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+FAUST 
+
+
+A Wragedp 
+
+
+BY 
+
+
+JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE 
+
+
+TRANSLATED, IN THE ORIGINAL METRES, BY 
+
+
+BAYARD TAYLOR 
+
+
+TWO VOLUMES IN ONE 
+VOL. I. 
+
+
+Wer die Dichtkunst will verstehen, 
+Muss ins Land der Dichtung gehen 
+Wer den Dichter will verstehen, 
+Muss in Dicnters Lande gehen. 
+GorTHE 
+
+
+
+
+
+a 
+4 
+
+
+Se ae 
+Ghe Rersioe Pregs | 
+
+
+BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
+HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
+Che Riverside Press Cambridge 
+
+
+WIO-LE 
+eT 
+ACIS 
+, Fe 
+
+as ee 
+x 
+wie 
+
+
+, COPYRIGHT, 1898 AND 1912, BY MARIE HANSEN TAYLOR 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+\ vA ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
+
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1870, BY BAYARD TAYLOR 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MARVARD UNIVERSITY 
+LIBRARY 
+
+
+JAN 30 1979 
+
+
+Vy eee 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE. 
+
+
+T is twenty years since I first determined to 
+
+attempt the translation of /aus/, in the origi- 
+nal metres. At that time, although more than a 
+score of English translations of the First Part, 
+and three or four of the Second Part, were in ex- 
+istence, the experiment had not yet been made. 
+The prose version of Hayward seemed to have 
+been accepted as the standard, in default of any- 
+thing more satisfactory: the English critics, gener- 
+ally sustaining the translator in his views concern- 
+ing the secondary importance of form in Poetry, 
+practically discouraged any further attempt ; and 
+no one, familiar with rhythmical expression through 
+the needs of his own nature, had devoted the ne- 
+cessary love and patience to an adequate repro- 
+duction of the great work of Goethe’s life. 
+
+Mr. Brooks was the first to undertake the task, 
+and the publication of his translation of the First 
+Part (in 1856) induced me, for a time, to give up 
+my own design. No previous English version ex- . 
+
+
+iy FAUST. 
+
+
+hibited such abnegation of the translator’s own 
+tastes and habits of thought, such reverent desire 
+to present the original in its purest form. The 
+care and conscience with which the work had been 
+performed were so apparent, that I now state with 
+reluctance what then seemed to me to be its only 
+deficiencies, — a lack of the lyrical fire and flu- 
+ency of the original in some passages, and an 
+occasional lowering of the tone through the use 
+of words which are literal, but not equivalent. 
+The plan of translation adopted by Mr. Brooks 
+was so entirely my own, that when further resi- 
+dence in Germany and a more careful study of 
+both parts of Fuust had satisfied me that the field 
+was still open, — that the means furnished by the 
+poetical affinity of the two languages had not yet 
+been exhausted, — nothing remained for me but to 
+follow him in all essential particulars. His exam- 
+ple confirmed me in the belief that there were few 
+difficulties in the way of a nearly literal yet thor- 
+oughly rhythmical version of /aus/, which might 
+not be overcome by loving labor. A comparison 
+of seventeen English translations, in the arbitrary 
+metres adopted by the translators, sufficiently 
+showed the danger of allowing license in this 
+respect: the white light of Goethe’s thought was 
+thereby passed through the tinced glass of other 
+minds, and assumed the coloring of each. More- 
+over, the plea of selecting different metres in the 
+hope of producing a similar effect is unreasonable, 
+where the identical metres are possible. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE. Vv 
+
+
+The value of form, in a poetical work, is the 
+first question to be considered. No poet ever 
+understood this question more thoroughly than 
+Goethe himself, or expressed a more positive opin- 
+ion in regard to it. The alternative modes of 
+translation which he presents (reported by Riemer, 
+quoted by Mrs. Austin, in her “ Characteristics of 
+Goethe,” and accepted by Mr. Hayward),* are 
+quite independent of his views concerning the 
+value of form, which we find given elsewhere, in 
+the clearest and most emphatic manner.f Poetry 
+
+
+# “<¢ There are two maxims of translation,’ says he: ‘the 
+me requires that the author, of a foreign nation, be brought 
+to us in such a manner that we may regard him as our own ; 
+the other, on the contrary, demands of us that we transport 
+ourselyes over to him, and adopt his situation, his mode of 
+speaking, and his peculiarities. The advantages of both are 
+sufficiently known to all instructed persons, from masterly 
+examples.’ ”’ 
+
+Is it necessary, however, that there should always be this 
+alternative ? Where the languages are kindred, and equally 
+capable of all varieties of metrical expression, may not both 
+these “maxims” be observed in the same translation ? 
+Goethe, it is true, was of the opinion that Fusst ought to be 
+given, in French, in the manner of Clément Marot; but this 
+was undoubtedly because he felt the inadequacy of modern 
+French to express the naive, simple realism of many pas- 
+sages. The same objection does not apply to English 
+There are a few archaic expressions in Faust, but no more 
+than are still allowed — nay, frequently encouraged — in tl. 
+English of our day. 
+
+t “You are right,” said Goethe; “there are great and 
+mysterious agencies included in the various forms of Poetry 
+If the substance of my ‘ Roman Elegies’ were to be ex- 
+
+
+vi FAUST, 
+
+
+is not simply a fashion of expression: it is the 
+form of expression absolutely required by a cer- 
+tain class of ideas. Poetry, indeed, may be dis- 
+tinguished from Prose by the single circumstance, 
+that it is the utterance of whatever in man cannot 
+be perfectly uttered in any other than a rhythmical 
+form: it is useless to say that the naked meaning 
+is independent of the form: on the contrary, the 
+form contributes essentially to the fulness of the 
+meaning. In Poetry which endures through its own 
+inherent vitality, there is no forced union of these 
+
+
+pressed in the tone and measure of Byron's ‘ Don Juan,’ it 
+would really have an atrocious effect.” — Eckermann. 
+
+‘“‘ The rhythm,” said Goethe, ‘‘is an unconscious result of 
+the poetic mood. If one should stop to consider it mechan- 
+ically, when about to write a poem, one would become be- 
+wildered and accomplish nothing of real poetical value.” — 
+Lhid. 
+
+““ All that is poetic in character should be rhythmically treated | 
+Such is my conviction; and if even a sort of poetic prose 
+should be gradually introduced, it would only show that the 
+distinction between prose and poetry had been completely 
+lost sight of.” — Goethe to Schiller, 1797. 
+
+Tycho Mommsen, in his excellent essay, Die Kunst des 
+Deutschen Uebersetsers aus neueren Sprachen, goes so far as to 
+say: ‘‘The metrical or rhymed modelling of a poetical work 
+is so essentially the germ of its being, that, rather than by 
+giving it up, we might hope to construct a similar work of 
+art before the eyes of our countrymen, by giving up or 
+changing the substance. The immeasurable result which 
+has followed works wherein the form has been retained — 
+such as the Homer of Voss, and the Shakespeare of Tieck 
+and Schlegel —is an incontrovertible evidence of the vital 
+ity of the endeavor.” 
+
+
+PREFACE. a 
+
+
+two elements. They are as intimately blended, 
+and with the same mysterious beauty, as the sexes 
+in the ancient Hermaphroditus. To attempt to 
+represent Poetry in Prose, is very much like at- 
+tempting to translate music into speech.* 
+
+The various theories of translation from the 
+Greek and Latin poets have been admirably stated 
+by Dryden in his Preface to the “ Translations 
+from Ovid’s Epistles,” and I do not wish to con- 
+tinue the endless discussion, — especially as our 
+literature needs examples, not opinions. A recent 
+expression, however, carries with it so much au- 
+thority, that I feel bound to present some consid- 
+erations which the accomplished scholar seems to 
+have overlooked. Mr. Lewesf justly says: ‘The 
+effect of poetry is a compound of music and sug- 
+gestion ; this music and this suggestion are inter- 
+mingled in words, which to alter is to alter the 
+effect. For words in poetry are not, as in prose, 
+simple representatives of objects and ideas: they 
+are parts of an organic whole, — they are tones in 
+the harmony.” He thereupon illustrates the effect 
+of translation by changing certain well-known 
+English stanzas into others, equivalent in meaning, 
+but lacking their felicity of words, their grace and 
+melody. I cannot accept this illustration as valid, 
+because Mr. Lewes purposely omits the very qual- 
+
+
+* “Goethe’s poems exercise a great sway over me, not 
+only by their meaning, but also by their rhythm. It is a lan- 
+guage which stimulates me to composition.” — Beethoven. 
+
+t Life of Goethe (Book VL.). 
+
+
+Vili FA OST. 
+
+
+ity which an honest translator should exhaust his 
+skill in endeavoring to reproduce. He turns away 
+from the ove dest word or phrase in the English lines 
+he quotes, whereas the translator seeks precisely 
+that one best word or phrase (having @// the re- 
+sources of his language at command), to represent 
+what is said in another language. More than this, 
+his task is not simply mechanical: he must feel, 
+and be guided by, a secondary inspiration. Sur- 
+rendering himself to the full possession of the 
+spirit which shall speak through him, he receives, 
+also, a portion of the same creative power. Mr. 
+Lewes reaches this conclusion: “If, therefore, we 
+reflect what a poem faust is, and that it contains 
+almost every variety of style and metre, it will be 
+tolerably evident that no one unacquainted with 
+the original can form an adequate idea of it from 
+translation,” * which is certainly correct of any 
+translation wherein something of the rhythmical 
+variety and beauty of the original is not retained. 
+That very much of the rhythmical character may 
+be retained in English, was long ago shown by 
+Mr. Carlyle,f in the passages which he translated, 
+
+
+* Mr. Lewes gives the following advice: ‘The English 
+reader would perhaps best succeed who should first read 
+Dr. Anster’s brilliant paraphrase, and then carefully go 
+through Hayward’s prose translation.” This is singularly 
+at variance with the view he has just expressed. Dr. 
+Anster’s version is an almost incredible dilution of the 
+original, written in ofker metres; while Hayward’s entirely 
+omits the element of poetry. 
+
+t Foreign Review, 1828. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE. iy 
+
+
+both literally and rhythmically, from the e/ena 
+(Part Second). In fact, we have so many in- 
+stances of the possibility of reciprocally transfer- 
+ring the finest qualities of English and German 
+poetry, that there is no sufficient excuse for an 
+unmetrical translation of Faust. I refer especially 
+to such subtile and melodious lyrics as “ The Cas- 
+tle by the Sea,” of Uhland, and the “ Silent Land ” 
+of Salis, translated by Mr. Longfellow ; Goethe’s 
+“Minstrel” and “Coptic Song,” by Dr. Hedge ; 
+Heine’s “ Two Grenadiers,” by Dr. Furness, and 
+many of Heine’s songs by Mr. Leland ; and also 
+to the German translations of English lyrics, by 
+Freiligrath and Strodtmann.* 
+
+I have a more serious objection, however, to 
+urge against Mr. Hayward’s prose translation. 
+
+
+* When Freiligrath can thus give us Walter Scott : — 
+
+
+‘*Kommt, wie der Wind kommt, 
+Wenn Walder erzittern ! 
+Komnt, wie die Brandung 
+Wenn Filotten zersplittern ! 
+Schnell heran, schnell herab, 
+Schneller kommt Alle ! — 
+Hiupiling und Bub’ und Knapp, 
+Herr und Vasalle!”’ 
+
+
+or Strodtmann thus reproduce Tennyson : — 
+
+
+** Es falit der Strahl auf Burg und Thal, 
+Und schneeige Gipfel, reich an Sagen ; 
+Viel’ Lichter wehn auf blauen Seen, 
+Bergab die Wasserstiirze jagen ! 
+Blas, Hifthorn, blas, in Wiederhall erschallend : 
+Blas, Horn — antwortet, Echos, hallend, hallend, hallend !” 
+
+
+— it must be a dull ear which would be satisfied with the 
+omission of rhythm and rhyme. 
+
+
+x FAUST. 
+
+
+Where all the restraints of verse are flung aside, 
+we should expect, at least, as accurate a reproduc- 
+tion of the sense, spirit, and tone of the original, 
+as the genius of our language will permit. So far 
+from having given us such a reproduction, Mr. 
+Hayward not only occasionally mistakes the exact 
+meaning of the German text,* but, wherever two 
+phrases may be used to express the meaning with 
+equal fidelity, he very frequently selects that which 
+has the less grace, strength, or beauty.t For there 
+are few things which may not be said, in English, 
+in a twofold manner, — one poetic, and the other 
+prosaic. In German, equally, a word which in 
+
+
+* On his second page, the line Mein Lied ertont der un- 
+bekannien Menge, ‘‘My song sounds to the unknown multi- 
+tude,” is translated : “‘ My sorrow voices itself to the strange 
+throng.” Other English translators, I notice, have followed 
+Mr. Hayward in mistaking Leed for Led. 
+
+t I take but one out of numerous instances, for the sake 
+of illustration. The close of the Soldier’s Song (Part I. 
+Scene II.) is: — 
+
+** Kihn is das Mithen, 
+Herrlich der Lohn ! 
+Und die Soldaten 
+Ziehen davon.” 
+Literally : 
+Bold is the endeavor, 
+Splendid the pay ! 
+And the soldiers 
+March away. 
+This Mr. Hayward translates : — 
+Bold the adventure, 
+Noble the reward — 
+And the soldiers 
+Are off. 
+
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE. xi 
+
+
+ordinary use has a bare prosaic character may 
+receive a fairer and finer quality from its place in 
+verse. The prose translator should certainly be 
+able to feel the manifestation of this law in both 
+languages, and should so choose his words as to 
+meet their reciprocal requirements. A man, how- 
+ever, who is not keenly sensible to the power and 
+beauty and value of rhythm, is likely to overlook 
+these delicate yet most necessary distinctions. 
+The author’s thought is stripped of a last grace in 
+passing through his mind, and frequently presents 
+very much the same resemblance to the original as 
+an unhewn shaft to the fluted column. Mr. Hay- 
+ward unconsciously illustrates his lack of a refined 
+appreciation of verse, “in giving,” as he says, “a 
+sort of rhythmical arrangement to the lyrical parts,” 
+his object being “to convey some notion of the 
+variety of versification which forms one great 
+charm of the poem.” A literal translation is al- 
+ways possible in the unrhymed passages ; but even 
+here Mr. Hayward’s ear did not dictate to him the 
+necessity of preserving the original rhythm. 
+
+While, therefore, I heartily recognize his lofty 
+appreciation of Faust, — while I honor him for the 
+patient and conscientious labor he has bestowed 
+upon his translation, —I cannot but feel that he 
+has himself illustrated the unsoundness of his ar- 
+gument. Nevertheless, the circumstance that his 
+prose translation of Faust has received so much 
+acceptance proves those qualities of the original 
+work which cannot be destroyed by a test so vio- 
+
+
+xii FAUST. 
+
+
+lent. From the cold bare outline thus produced, 
+the reader unacquainted with the German language 
+would scarcely guess what glow of color, what rich- 
+ness of changeful life, what fluent grace and energy 
+of movement have been lost in the process. We 
+must, of course, gratefully receive such an outline, 
+where a nearer approach to the form of the origi- 
+nal is impossible, but, until the latter has been 
+demonstrated, we are wrong to remain content 
+with the cheaper substitute. 
+
+It seems to me that in all discussions upon this 
+subject the capacities of the English language 
+have received but scanty justice. The intellectual 
+tendencies of our race have always been somewhat 
+conservative, and its standards of literary taste 
+or belief, once set up, are not varied without a 
+struggle. The English ear is suspicious of new 
+metres and unaccustomed forms of expression: 
+there are critical detectives on the track of every 
+author, and a violation of the accepted canons Is 
+followed by a summons to judgment. ‘Thus the 
+tendency is to contract rather than to expand the 
+acknowledged excellences of the language.* The 
+
+
+* I cannot resist the temptation of quoting the following 
+passage from Jacob Grimm: “No one of all the modern 
+languages has acquired a greater force and strength than the 
+English, through the derangement and relinquishment of its 
+ancient laws of sound. The unteachable (nevertheless /carn- 
+able) profusion of its middle-tones has conferred upon it an 
+intrinsic power of expression, such as no other human tongue 
+ever possessed. Its entire, thoroughly intellectual and won- 
+derfully successful foundation and perfected development 
+
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE. xiit 
+
+
+difficulties in the way of a nearly literal translation 
+of Faust in the original metres have been exagger- 
+ated, because certain affinities between the two 
+languages have not been properly considered. 
+With all the splendor of versification in the work, 
+it contains but few metres of which the English 
+tongue is not equally capable. Hood has famil- 
+iarized us with dactylic (triple) rhymes, and they 
+are remarkably abundant and skilful in Mr. Low- 
+ell’s “ Fable for the Critics”: even the unrhymed 
+iambic hexameter of the eéena occurs now and 
+then in Milton’s Samson Agonistes. It is true that 
+the metrical foot into which the German language 
+most naturally falls is the ¢vochaic, while in Englisn 
+it is the samdic: it is true that German is rich, 
+involved, and tolerant of new combinations, while 
+
+
+issued from a marvellous union of the two noblest tongues 
+of Europe, the Germanic and the Romanic. Their mutual 
+relation in the English language is well known, since the 
+former furnished chiefly the material basis, while the latter 
+added the intellectual conceptions. The English language, 
+by and through which the greatest and most eminent poet 
+of modern times — as contrasted with ancient classical 
+poetry — (of course I can refer only to Shakespeare) was 
+begotten and nourished, has a just claim to be called a lan- 
+guage of the world; and it appears to be destined, like tne 
+English race, to a higher and broader sway in all quarters 
+of the earth. For in richness, in compact adjustment of 
+parts, and in pure intelligence, none of the living languages 
+can be compared with it, — not even our German, which is 
+divided even as we are divided, and which must cast off m>ny 
+imperfections before it can boldly enter on its career.-. ~ 
+Ueber den Ursprung der Sprache. 
+
+
+xiv FAUST. 
+
+
+English is simple, direct, and rather shy of com- 
+pounds; but precisely these differences are so 
+modified in the German of Faust that there is a 
+mutual approach of the two languages. In Faust, 
+the iambic measure predominates ; the style is 
+compact; the many licenses which the author 
+allows himself are all directed towards a shorter 
+mode of construction. On the other hand, Eng- 
+lish metre compels the use of inversions, admits 
+many verbal liberties prohibited to prose, and so 
+inclines towards various flexible features of its 
+sister-tongue that many lines of Faust may be 
+repeated in English without the slightest change 
+of meaning, measure, or rhyme. There are words, 
+it is true, with so delicate a bloom upon them that 
+it can in no wise be preserved ; but even such 
+words will always lose less when they carry with 
+them their rhythmical atmosphere. The flow of 
+Goethe’s verse is sometimes so similar to that of 
+the corresponding English metre, that not only its 
+harmonies and ceesural pauses, but even its punc- 
+tuation, may be easily retained. 
+
+I am satisfied that the difference between a 
+translation of Faust in prose or metre is chiefly 
+one of labor, — and of that labor which is success- 
+ful in proportion as it is joyously performed. My 
+own task has been cheered by the discovery, that 
+the more closely I reproduced the language of the 
+original, the more of its rhythmical character was 
+transferred at the same time. If, now and then, 
+there was an inevitable alternative of meaning or 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE. xv 
+
+
+music, I gave the preference to the former. By 
+the term “ original metres ” I do not mean a nigid, 
+unyielding adherence to every foot, line, and 
+rhyme of the German original, although this has 
+very nearly been accomplished. Since the greater 
+part of the work is written in an irregular measure, 
+the lines varying from three to six feet, and the 
+rhymes arranged according to the author’s will, I 
+do not consider that an occasional change in the 
+number of feet, or order of rhyme, is any violation 
+of the metrical plan. The single slight liberty I 
+have taken with the lyrical passages is in Marga- 
+ret’s song, — “ The King of Thule,” —in which, 
+by omitting the alternate feminine rhymes, yet re- 
+taining the metre, I was enabled to make the trans- 
+lation strictly literal. If, in two or three instances, 
+I have left a line unrhymed, I have balanced the 
+omission by giving rhymes to other lines which 
+stand unrhymed in the original text. For the same 
+reason, I make no apology for the imperfect 
+rhymes, which are frequently a translation as well 
+as a necessity. With all its supreme qualities, 
+Faust is far from being a technically perfect work.* 
+
+
+* “ At present, everything runs in technical grooves, and 
+the critical gentlemen begin to wrangle whether in a rhyme 
+an s should correspond with an s and not with ss. If I were 
+young and reckless enough, I would purposely offend all 
+such technical caprices : I would use alliteration, assonance, 
+false rhyme, just according to my own will or convenience — 
+but, at the same time, I would attend to the main thing, and 
+endeavor to say so many good things that every 6ne would 
+be attracted to read and remember them.” — Goethe, in 1831. 
+
+
+xvi FA OST. 
+
+
+The feminine and dactylic rhymes, which have 
+been for the most part omitted by all metrical 
+translatars except Mr. Brooks, are indispensable. 
+The characteristic tone of many passages would 
+be nearly lost, without them. ‘They give spirit and 
+grace to the dialogue, point to the aphoristic por- 
+tions (especially in the Second Part), and an ever- 
+changing music to the lyrical passages. The 
+English language, though not so rich as the 
+German in such rhymes, is less deficient than 
+is generally supposed. The difficulty to be over- 
+come is one of construction rather than of the 
+vocabulary. ‘The present participle can only be 
+used to a limited extent, on account of its weak 
+termination, and the want of an accusative form 
+to the noun also restricts the arrangement of 
+words in English verse. I cannot hope to have 
+been always successful; but I have at least la- 
+bored long and patiently, bearing constantly in 
+mind not only the meaning of the original and 
+the mechanical structure of the lines, but also 
+that subtile and haunting music which seems to 
+govern rhythm instead of being governed by it. 
+
+The Second Part of Aaus¢ has been translated 
+five times into English (by Birch, Bernays, Mac- 
+donald, Archer Gurney, and Anster), but not one 
+of the versions has ever been published in the 
+United States. Inasmuch as this part was in- 
+cluded in Goethe’s original design, the First Part, 
+although apparently complete as a tragic episode, 
+is in reality but a fragment, wherein the deeper 
+
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE. XVil 
+
+
+problems upon which the work is based are left 
+unsolved. I consider, therefore, that the Second 
+Part is necessary (as necessary, indeed, as the 
+Faradiso to the Divina Commedia of Dante); and 
+my aim, in the second volume of this translation, 
+will be to make that necessity clear, alike to the 
+English reader and to those who follow various 
+German and English critics in disparaging the 
+original. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+AN GOETHE. ‘ é ‘ 5 é 
+
+
+DEDICATION. . gon rats ‘ 
+
+
+PRELUDE ON THE STAGE . ‘ 
+
+
+PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN . oe % 
+
+
+Scene I. 
+II. 
+HII. 
+IV. 
+V. 
+VL 
+VII. 
+VIIL 
+IX. 
+X. 
+XL 
+XII. 
+XIIL 
+
+
+XIV. 
+
+
+NIGHT (Faust’s Monologue) 
+
+
+BEFORE THE C1Ty-GATE 
+
+
+PROMENADE. 
+
+THE N&IGHBOR’S. HOUSE 
+STREET. ; : 
+GARDEN : ‘ - 
+A GARDEN-AREBOR . 
+Forest AND CAVERN . 
+
+
+THE Stupy (Zhe Exorcism) 
+THE Stupy (Zhe Compact) . 
+AUERBACH’S CELLAR 
+WitcnHEs’ KITCHEN 
+A STREET. ‘ oS: . le 
+EVENING ‘ . . 
+
+
+Pac 
+
+
+DD 7 
+
+
+17 
+
+
+8Fsess 
+
+
+I 
+113 
+Wy 
+123 
+126 
+135 
+138 
+146 
+148 
+
+
+xx CONTENTS. 
+
+
+XV. MARGARET’S Room . . 6 © « 354 
+XVI. MARTHA’Ss GARDEN. ow % 156 
+XVII AT THE FOUNTAIN . ‘ je - 163 
+XVIII. DOonyjon (Margaret's Prayer) Oe 166 
+XIX. NicutT (Valentine’s Death) . - « 168 
+XX. CATHEDRAL. ok . ° ; 175 
+
+
+XXI. WaALpurGIs-NIGHT . ‘ F ‘ . 178 
+XXII. OBERON AND TITANIA’S GOLDEN WED- 
+
+DING . . ae ‘ : - 195 
+
+XXIII. Dreary Day ‘ ; ‘ ‘ . 203 
+
+XXIV. NIGHT. . ‘ ; : 3 - 206 
+
+
+XXV. DUNGEON. . ‘ ° : . 207 
+
+
+NOTES . . . .. . . «© 2 27 
+
+
+APPENDIX. 
+I. THe Faust-LEGEND . . «© + + 337 
+IL CHRONOLOGY OF Faust .  - «© : = 345 
+
+
+III. ScENE FROM MARLOwE’s “ Faustus ” - 354 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+AN GOETHE. 
+
+
+L 
+
+
+[rRHA BENER Getst, tm Getsterretch verioren / 
+Wo immer Deine lichte Wohnung sey, 
+
+Zum hoh’ren Schaffen bist Du neugeboren, 
+
+Und singest dort die voll’re Litanei. 
+
+Von jenem Streben das Du auserkoren, 
+
+Vom reinsten Ether, drin Du athmest frei, 
+
+O neige Dich su gnadigem Erwiedern 
+
+Des letsten Wiederhalls von Deinen Liedern / 
+
+
+IT. 
+
+
+Den alten Musen die bestdubten Kronen 
+
+Nahmst Du, su neuem Glansz, mit kiihner Hand: 
+Du list die Rathsel dltester ALonen 
+
+Durch jiingeren Glauben, helleren Verstand, 
+
+
+xxii AN GOETHE. 
+
+
+Und machst, wo rege Menschengeister wohnen, 
+Die ganse Erde Dir sum Vaierland ; 
+
+Und Deine Finger sehn in Dir, verwundert, 
+Verkirpert schon das werdende Fakrhundert. 
+
+
+Til. 
+
+
+Was Du gesungen, Aller Lust und Klagen, 
+
+Des Lebens Wiederspriiche, neu vermahlt, — 
+
+Die Harfe tausendstimmig frisch geschlagen, 
+
+Die Shakspeare einst, die einst Homer gewéhlt, — 
+
+Darf ich in fremde Klange tibertragen 
+
+Das Alles, wo so Mancher schon gefehit ? 
+
+Lass Deinen Geist in meiner Stimme klingen, 
+
+Und was Du sangst, lass mith es Dir nachsingen / 
+B. T. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+DEDICATION.’ 
+
+
+ed 
+
+
+5 aie ye come, ye hovering Forms! I find ye, 
+As early to my clouded sight ye shone! 
+
+Shail I attempt, this once, to seize and bind ye? 
+
+Still o’er my heart is that illusion thrown? 
+
+Ye crowd more near! Then, be the reign assigned ye, 
+And sway me from your misty, shadowy zone! 
+
+My bosom thrills, with youthful passion shaken, 
+
+From magic airs that round your march awaken. 
+
+
+Of joyous days ye bring the blissful vision ; 
+
+The dear, familiar phantoms rise again, 
+
+And, like an old and half-extinct tradition, 
+
+First Love returns, with Friendship in his train. 
+Renewed is Pain: with mournful repetition 
+
+Life tracks his devious, labyrinthine chain, 
+
+And names the Good, whose cheating fortune tore them 
+From happy hours, and left me to deplore them. 
+
+
+They hear no longer these succeeding measures, 
+The souls, to whom my earliest songs I sang: 
+Dispersed the friendly troop, with all its pleasures, 
+And still, alas! the echoes first that rang! 
+
+VOL. I. 1 
+
+
+2 FAUST. 
+
+
+I bring the unknown multitude my treasures ; 
+
+Their very plaudits give my heart a pang, 
+
+And those beside, whose joy my Song so flattered, 
+
+If still they live, wide through the world are scattered. 
+
+
+And grasps me now a long-unwonted yearning 
+For that serene and solemn Spirit-Land: 
+
+My song, to faint AZolian murmurs turning, 
+Sways like a harp-string by the breezes fanned. 
+I thrill and tremble; tear on tear is burning, 
+And the stern heart is tenderly unmanned. 
+What I possess, I see far distant lying, 
+
+And what I lost, grows real and undying. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PRELUDE ON THE STAGE.’ 
+
+
+—@—— 
+
+
+MANAGER. Dramatic Poet. MERRY-ANDREW. 
+
+
+MANAGER. 
+
+
+OU two, who oft a helping hand 
+Have lent, in need and tribulation, 
+
+Come, let me know your expectation 
+Of this, our enterprise, in German land! 
+I wish the crowd to feel itself well treated, 
+Especially since it lives and lets me live ; 
+‘Lhe posts are set, the booth of boards completed,3 
+And each awaits the banquet I shall give. 
+Already there, with curious eyebrows raised, 
+They sit sedate, and hope to be amazed. 
+I know how one the People’s taste may flatter, 
+Yet here a huge embarrassment I feel: 
+What they ’re accustomed to, is no great matter. 
+But then, alas! they ’ve read an awful deal. 
+How shall we plan, that all be fresh and new, — 
+Important matter, yet attractive too? 
+For ’t is my pleasure to behold them surging, 
+When to our booth the current sets apace, 
+And with tremendous, oft-repeated urging, 
+Squeeze onward through the narrow gate of grace: 
+By daylight even, they push and cram in 
+
+
+4 FAUST. 
+
+
+To reach the seller’s box, a fighting host, 
+
+And as for bread, around a baker’s door, in famine, 
+To get a ticket break their necks almost. 
+
+This miracle alone can work the Poet 
+
+On men so various: now, my friend, pray show it. 
+
+
+POET. 
+
+
+Speak not to me of yonder motley masses, 
+
+Whom but to see, puts out the fire of Song! 
+
+Hide from my view the surging crowd that passes, 
+And in its whirlpool forces us along! . 
+
+No, lead me where some heavenly silence glasses 
+
+The purer joys that round the Poet throng, — 
+
+Where Love and Friendship still divinely fashion 
+
+The bonds that bless, the wreaths that crown his passion! 
+
+
+Ah, every utterance from the depths of feeling 
+The timid lips have stammeringly expressed, — 
+Now failing, now, perchance, success revealing, — 
+Gulps the wild Moment in its greedy breast ; 
+
+Or oft, reluctant years its warrant sealing, 
+
+Its perfect stature stands at last confessed ! 
+
+What dazzles, for the Moment spends its spirit: 
+What’s genuine, shall Posterity inherit. 
+
+
+MERRY-ANDREW. 
+
+
+Posterity! Don’t name the word to me! 
+
+If Z should choose to preach Posterity, 
+
+Where would you get cotemporary fun? 
+
+That men weé/ have it, there’s no blinking: . 
+A fine young fellow’s presence, to my thinking, 
+
+Is something worth, to every one. 
+
+Who genially his nature can outpour, 
+
+Takes from the People’s moods no irritation ; 
+
+The wider circle he acquires, the more 
+
+
+
+
+
+PRELUDE. 5 
+
+
+Securely works his inspiration. 
+
+Then pluck up heart, and give us sterling coin! 
+Let Fancy be with her attendants fitted, — 
+Sense, Reason, Sentiment, and Passion join, — 
+But have a care, lest Folly be omitted ! 
+
+
+MANAGER. 
+Chiefly, enough of incident prepare ! 
+They come to look, and they prefer to stare.‘ 
+Reel off a host of threads before their faces, 
+So that they gape in stupid wonder: then 
+By sheer diffuseness you have won their graces, 
+And are, at once, most popular of men. 
+Only by mass you touch the mass; for any 
+Will finally, himself, his bit select: 
+Who offers much, brings something unto many,5 
+And each goes home content with the effect. 
+If you ’ve a piece, why, just in pieces give it: 
+A hash, a stew, will bring success, believe it! 
+°T is easily displayed, and easy to invent. 
+What use, 2 Whole compactly to present? 
+Your hearers pick and pluck, as soon as they receive it! 
+
+
+POET. 
+
+
+You do not feel, how such a trade debases ; 
+How ill it suits the Artist, proud and true! 
+The botching work each fine pretender traces 
+Is, I perceive, a principle with you. 
+
+
+MANAGER. 
+
+
+Such a reproach not in the least offends; 
+
+A man who some result intends 
+
+Must use the tools that best are fitting. 
+Reflect, soft wood is given to you for splitting, 
+And then, observe for whom you write! 
+
+
+6 FAUST. 
+
+
+If one comes bored, exhausted quite, 
+
+Another, satiate, leaves the banquet’s tapers, 
+
+And, worst of all, full many a wight 
+
+Is fresh from reading of the daily papers. 
+
+Idly to us they come, as to a masquerade, 
+
+Mere curiosity their spirits warming : 
+
+The ladies with themselves, and with their finery, aid, 
+Without a salary their parts performing. 
+
+What dreams are yours in high poetic places? 
+You ’re pleased, forsooth, full houses to behold? 
+Draw near, and view your patrons’ faces ! 
+
+The half are coarse, the half are cold. 
+
+One, when the play is out, goes home to cards; 
+
+A wild night on a wench’s breast another chooses : 
+Why should you rack, poor, foolish bards, 
+
+For ends like these, the gracious Muses? 
+
+I tell you, give but more — more, ever more, they ask: 
+Thus shall you hit the mark of gain and glory. 
+Seek to confound your auditory ! 
+
+To satisfy them is a task. — 
+
+What ails you now? Is ’t suffering, or pleasure? 
+
+
+POET. 
+
+
+Go, find yourself a more obedient slave ! 
+What! shall the Poet that which Nature gave, 
+The highest right, supreme Humanity, 
+
+Forfeit so wantonly, to swell your treasure ? 
+Whence o’er the heart his empire free ? 
+
+The elements of Life how conquers he? 
+
+Is ’t not his heart’s accord, urged outward far and dim, 
+To wind the world in unison with him ? 
+
+When on the spindle, spun to endless distance, 
+By Nature’s listless hand the thread is twirled, 
+And the discordant tones of all existence 
+
+In sullen jangle are together hurled, 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PRELUDE. 4 
+
+
+Who, then, the changeless orders of creation 
+Divides, and kindles into rhythmic dance? 
+
+Who brings the One to join the general ordination, 
+Where it may throb in grandest consonance? 
+Who bids the storm to passion stir the bosom ? 
+
+In brooding souls the sunset burn above ? 
+
+Who scatters every fairest April blossom 
+
+Along the shining path of Love? 
+
+Who braids the noteless leaves to crowns, requiting 
+Desert with fame, in Action’s every field ? 
+
+Who makes Olympus sure, the Gods uniting? 
+The might of Man, as in the Bard revealed. 
+
+
+MERRY-ANDREW. 
+
+
+So, these fine forces, in conjunction, 
+
+Propel the high poetic function, 
+
+As in a love-adventure they might play! 
+
+You meet by accident; you feel, you stay, 
+
+And by degrees your heart is tangled ; 
+
+Bliss grows apace, and then its course is jangled ; 
+You’re ravished quite, then comes a touch of woe, 
+And there’s a neat romance, completed ere you know! 
+Let us, then, such a drama give! 
+
+Grasp the exhaustless life that all men live! 
+
+Each shares therein, though few may comprehend: 
+Where’er you touch, there’s interest without end. * 
+In motley pictures little light, 
+
+Much error, and of truth a glimmering mite, 
+
+Thus the best beverage is supplied, 
+
+Whence all the world is cheered and edified. 
+Then, at your play, behold the fairest flower 
+
+Of youth collect, to hear the revelation ! 
+
+Each tender soul, with sentimental power, 
+
+Sucks melancholy food from your creation ; 
+
+And now in this, now that, the leaven works, 
+
+
+8 FAUST. 
+
+
+For each beholds what in his bosom lurks. 
+
+They still are moved at once to weeping or to laughter, 
+Still wonder at your flights, enjoy the show they see: 
+A mind, once formed, is never suited after ; 
+
+One yet in growth will ever grateful be. 
+
+
+POET. 
+
+
+Then give me back that time of pleasures, 
+While yet in joyous growth I sang, — 
+When, like a fount, the crowding measures 
+Uninterrupted gushed and sprang! 
+
+Then bright mist veiled the world before me, 
+In opening buds a marvel woke, 
+
+As I the thousand blossoms broke, 
+
+Which every valley richly bore me! 
+
+I nothing had, and yet enough for youth — 
+Joy in Illusion, ardent thirst for Truth. 
+
+Give, unrestrained, the old emotion, 
+
+The bliss that touched the verge of pain, 
+The strength of Hate, Love’s deep devotion, «= 
+O, give me back my youth again! 
+
+
+MERRY-ANDREW. 
+
+
+Youth, good my friend, you certainly require 
+When foes in combat sorely press you; 
+When lovely maids, in fond desire, 
+
+Hang on your bosom and caress you; 
+When from the hard-won goal the wreath 
+Beckons afar, the race awaiting ; 
+
+When, after dancing out your breath, 
+
+You pass the night in dissipating : — 
+
+But that familiar harp with soul 
+
+To play, — with grace and bold expression, 
+And towards a self-erected goal 
+
+To walk with many a sweet digression, — 
+
+
+PRELUDE. 
+
+
+This, aged Sirs, belongs to you,® 
+
+And we no less revere you for that reason : 
+
+Age childish makes, they say, but ’t is not true; 
+We're only genuine children still, in Age’s season ! 
+
+
+MANAGER. 
+
+
+The words you ’ve bandied are sufficient ; 
+
+'T is deeds that I prefer to see: 
+
+In compliments you ’re both proficient, 
+
+But might, the while, more useful be. 
+
+What need to talk of Inspiration ? 
+
+’T is no companion of Delay. 
+
+If Poetry be your vocation, 
+
+Let Poetry your will obey! 
+
+Full well you know what here is wanting ; 
+
+The crowd for strongest drink is panting, 
+
+And such, forthwith, I’d have ycu brew. 
+What’s left undone to-day, To-morrow will not da 
+Waste not a day in vain digression : 
+
+With resolute, courageous trust 
+
+Seize every possible impression, 
+
+And make it firmly your possession ; 
+
+You ’ll then work on, because you must. 
+
+Upon our German stage, you know it, 
+
+Each tries his hand at what he will; 
+
+So, take of traps and scenes your fill, 
+
+And all you find, be sure to show it! 
+
+Use both the great and lesser heavenly light, ~ 
+Squander the stars in any number, 
+
+Beasts, birds, trees, rocks, and all such lumber, 
+Fire, water, darkness, Day and Night! 
+
+Thus, in our booth’s contracted sphere, 
+
+The circle of Creation will appear, 
+
+And move, as we deliberately impel, 
+
+
+From Heaven, across the World, to Heli !7 
+1° 
+
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN: 
+
+
+THE Lorp. THE HEaventy Hosts. Aféer- 
+wards MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+(Zhe THREE ARCHANGELS come forward.) 
+
+
+RAPHAEL. 
+
+
+HE sun-orb sings, in emulation, 
+’Mid brother-spheres, his ancient round: 
+
+His path predestined through Creation 
+He ends with step of thunder-sound. 
+The angels from his visage splendid 
+Draw power, whose measure none can say; 
+The lofty works, uncomprehended, 
+Are bright as on the earliest day. 
+
+
+GABRIEL. 
+
+
+And swift, and swift beyond conceiving, 
+The splendor of the world goes round, 
+Day’s Eden-brightness still relieving 
+The awful Night’s intense profound : 
+The ocean-tides in foam are breaking, 
+Against the rocks’ deep bases hurled, 
+And both, the spheric race partaking, 
+Eternal, swift, are onward whirled! 
+
+
+a FAUST. 
+
+
+MICHAEL. 
+
+
+_ And rival storms abroad are surging 
+From sea to land, from land to sea. 
+A chain of deepest action forging 
+Round all, in wrathful energy. 
+There flames a desolation, blazing 
+Before the Thunder’s crashing way: 
+Yet, Lord, Thy messengers are praising 
+The gentle movement of Thy Day. 
+
+
+THE THREE. 
+
+
+Though still by them uncomprehended, 
+From these the angels draw their power, 
+And all Thy works, sublime and splendid, 
+Are bright as in Creation’s hour.» 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Since Thou, O Lord, deign’st to approach again 
+
+And ask us how we do, in manner kindest, 
+
+And heretofore to meet myself wert fain, 
+
+Among Thy menials, now, my face Thou findest. 
+
+Pardon, this troop I cannot follow after '° 
+
+With lofty speech, though by them scorned and spurned 
+
+My pathos certainly would move Thy laughter, 
+
+If Thou hadst not all merriment unlearned. 
+
+Of suns and worlds I ’ve nothing to be quoted ; 
+
+How men torment themselves, is all I ’ve noted. 
+
+The little god o’ the world sticks to the same old wav, 
+
+And is as whimsical as on Creation’s day. 
+
+Life somewhat better might content him, 
+
+But for the gleam of heavenly light which Thou has¢ 
+lent him: 
+
+He calls it Reason — thence his power’s increased, 
+
+To be far beastlier than any beast. 
+
+Saving Thy Gracious Presence, he to me 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN. 4 
+
+
+A long-legged grasshopper appears to be, 
+
+That springing flies, and flying springs, 
+
+And in the grass the same old ditty sings. 
+Would he still lay among the grass he grows in! 
+Each bit of dung he seeks, to stick his nose in. 
+
+
+THE LORD. 
+Hast thou, then, nothing more to mention ? 
+Com’st ever, thus, with ill intention? 
+Find’st nothing right on earth, eternally ? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+No, Lord! I find things, there, still bad as they can be. 
+Man’s misery even to pity moves my nature ; 
+I’ve scarce the heart to plague the wretched creature. 
+
+
+THE LORD. 
+Know’st Faust? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+The Doctor Faust? 
+
+
+THE LORD. 
+My servant, he! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Forsooth! He serves you after strange devices : 
+No earthly meat or drink the fool suffices : 
+
+His spirit’s ferment far aspireth ; 
+
+Half conscious of his frenzied, crazed unrest, 
+The fairest stars from Heaven he requireth, 
+From Earth the highest raptures and the best, 
+And all the Near and Far that he desireth 
+
+Fails to subdue the tumult of his breast. 
+
+
+THE LORD. 
+
+
+Though still confused his service unto Me, 
+I soon shall lead him to a clearer morning. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+14 FAUST. 
+
+
+Sees not the gardener, even while buds his tree, 
+Both flower and fruit the future years adorning ? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+What will you bet? There’s still a chance to gain him, 
+If unto me full leave you give, 
+Gently upon my road to train him! 
+
+
+THE LORD. 
+
+
+As long as he on earth shall live, 
+
+So long I make no prohibition. 
+
+While Man’s desires and aspirations stir, 
+He cannot choose but err."! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+My thanks! I find the dead no acquisition, 
+
+And never cared to have them in my keeping. 
+
+I much prefer the cheeks where ruddy blood is leaping, 
+And when a corpse approaches, close my house: 
+
+It goes with me, as with the cat the mouse. 
+
+
+THE LORD. 
+
+
+Enough! What thou hast asked is granted. 
+Turn off this spirit from his fountain-head ; 
+
+To trap him, let thy snares be planted, 
+
+And him, with thee, be downward led; 
+
+Then stand abashed, when thou art forced to say: 
+A good man, through obscurest aspiration, 
+
+Has still an instinct of the one true way." 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Agreed! But ’t is a short probation. 
+
+About my bet I feel no trzpidation. 
+
+If I fulfil my expectation, 
+
+You ’ll let me triumph with a swelling breast: 
+
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN. 15 
+
+
+Dust shall he eat, and with a zest, 
+As did a certain snake, my near relation. 
+
+
+THE LORD. 
+
+
+Therein thou ’rt free, according to thy merits ; 
+The like of thee have never moved My hate. 
+
+Of all the bold, denying Spirits, 
+
+The waggish knave least trouble doth create. 
+Man’s active nature, flagging, seeks too soon the level; 
+Unqualified repose he learns to crave; 
+
+Whence, willingly, the comrade him I gave, 
+Who works, excites, and must create, as Devil. 
+But ye, God’s sons in love and duty,'3 
+
+Enjoy the rich, the ever-living Beauty ! 
+
+Creative Power, that works eternal schemes, 
+Clasp you in bonds of love, relaxing never, 
+
+And what in wavering apparition gleams 
+
+Fix in its place with thoughts that stand forever ! 
+
+
+(Heaven closes: the ARCHANGELS separate.) 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (so/us). 
+
+
+I like, at times, to hear The Ancient’s word, 
+And have a care to be most civil: 
+
+It ’s really kind of such a noble Lord 
+
+So humanly to gossip with the Devil! 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+FIRST PART OF THE TRAGEDY. 
+
+
+I. 
+
+
+NIGHT. 
+
+
+\4 lofty-arched, narrow, Gothic chamber. FAUST, in a 
+chair at his desk, restless.) 
+
+
+FAUST.* 
+
+
+I 'VE studied now Philosophy 
+And Jurisprudence, Medicine, — 
+And even, alas! Theology, — 
+From end to end, with labor keen; 
+And here, poor fool! with all my lore 
+I stand, no wiser than before: 
+I ’m Magister — yea, Doctor — hight, 
+And straight or cross-wise, wrong or right, 
+These ten years long, with many woes, 
+I ’ve led my scholars by the nose, — 
+And see, that nothing can be known! 
+That knowledge cuts me to the bone. 
+I’m cleverer, true, than those fops of teachers, 
+Doctors and Magisters, Scribes and Preachers ; 
+Neither scruples nor doubts come now to smite me, 
+Nor Hell nor Devil can longer affright me. 
+For this, all pleasure am I foregoing ; 
+I do not pretend to aught worth knowing, 
+
+
+
+
+
+18 FAUST, 
+
+
+I do not pretend I could be a teacher 
+To help or convert a fellow-creature. 
+Then, too, I ’ve neither lands nor gold, 
+Nor the world’s least pomp or honor hold — 
+No dog would endure such a curst existence! 
+Wherefore, from Magic I seek assistance, 
+
+' That many a secret perchance I reach 
+Through spirit-power and spirit-speech, 
+And thus the bitter task forego 
+Of saying the things I do not know, — 
+That I may detect the inmost force 
+Which binds the world, and guides its course; 
+Its germs, productive powers explore, 
+And rummage in empty words no more! 
+
+
+_O full and splendid Moon, whom I 
+Have, from this desk, seen climb the sky 
+So many a midnight, — would thy glow 
+For the last time beheld my woe! 
+Ever thine eye, most mournful friend, 
+O’er books and papers saw me bend; 
+But would that I, on mountains grand, 
+Amid thy blessed light could stand, 
+With spirits through mountain-caverns hover, 
+Float in thy twilight the meadows over, 
+And, freed from the fumes of lore that swathe me, 
+To health in thy dewy fountains bathe me! 
+
+
+Ah, me! this dungeon still I see, 
+
+This drear, accursed masonry, 
+
+Where even the welcome daylight strains 
+But duskly through the painted panes. 
+Hemmed in by many a toppling heap 
+
+Of books worm-eaten, gray with dust, 
+Which to the vaulted ceiling creep, 
+
+
+SCENE I. 19 
+
+
+Against the smoky paper thrust, — 
+With glasses, boxes, round me stacked, 
+And instruments together hurled, 
+Ancestral lumber, stuffed and packed — 
+Such is my world: and what a world! 
+
+
+And do I ask, wherefore my heart 
+Falters, oppressed with unknown needs? 
+Why some inexplicable smart 
+
+All movement of my life impedes ? 
+
+Alas! in living Nature’s stead, 
+
+Where God His human creature set, 
+
+In smoke and mould the fleshless dead 
+And bones of beasts surround me yet! 
+
+
+Fly! Up, and seek the broad, free land! *s 
+And this one Book of Mystery 
+
+From Nostradamus’ very hand,"* 
+
+Is ’t not sufficient company ? 
+
+When I the starry courses know, 
+
+And Nature’s wise instruction seek, 
+With light of power my soul shall glow, 
+As when to spirits spirits speak. 
+
+’T is vain, this empty brooding here, 
+Though guessed the holy symbols be: 
+Ye, Spirits, come — ye hover near — 
+Oh, if you hear me, answer me! 
+
+
+fle opens the Book, and perceives the sign of the Macvrocosm. yn 
+
+
+Ha! what a sudden rapture leaps from this 
+
+I view, through all my senses swiftly flowing ! 
+i feel a youthful, holy, vital bliss 
+
+{n every vein and fibre newly glowing. 
+
+Was it a God, who traced this sign, 
+
+With calm across my tumult stealing, 
+
+
+
+
+
+20 FAUST. 
+
+
+My troubled heart to joy unsealing, 
+
+With impulse, mystic and divine, 
+
+The powers of Nature here, around my path, revealing? 
+Am I a God?— so clear mine eyes! 
+
+In these pure features I behold 
+
+Creative Nature to my soul unfold. 
+
+What says the sage, now first I recognize: 
+“‘ The spirit-world no closures fasten; 
+
+Thy sense is shut, thy heart is dead: 
+Disciple, up! untiring, hasten 
+
+To bathe thy breast in morning-red!” 
+
+
+(He contemplates the sign.) 
+
+
+How each the Whole its substance gives, 
+
+Each in the other works and lives! 
+
+Like heavenly forces rising and descending, 
+
+Their golden urns reciprocally lending, 
+
+With wings that winnow blessing 
+
+From Heaven through Earth I see them pressing, 
+Filling the All with harmony unceasing! 
+
+How grand a show! but, ah! a show alone. 
+
+Thee, boundless Nature, how make thee my own? 
+Where you, ye breasts? Founts of all Being, shining, 
+Whereon hang Heaven’s and Earth’s desire, 
+Whereto our withered hearts aspire, — 
+
+Ye flow, ye feed: and am I vainly pining? 
+
+
+(He turns the leaves impatiently, and perceives the sign of the 
+Earth-Spirit.)*® 
+
+How otherwise upon me works this sign! 
+
+Thou, Spirit of the Earth, art nearer: 
+
+Even now my powers are loftier, clearer; 
+
+I glow, as drunk with new-made wine: 
+
+New strength and heart to meet the world incite me, 
+
+The woe of earth, the bliss of earth, invite me, 
+
+
+SCENE I. 21 
+
+
+And though the shock of storms may smite me, 
+
+No crash of shipwreck shall have power to fright me! 
+Clouds gather over me — 
+
+The moon conceals her light — 
+
+The lamp ’s extinguished ! — 
+
+Mists rise, — red, angry rays are darting 
+
+Around my head ! — There falls 
+
+A horror from the vaulted roof, 
+
+And seizes me! 
+
+I feel thy presence, Spirit I invoke! 
+
+Reveal thyself ! 
+
+Ha! in my heart what rending stroke! 
+
+With new impulsion 
+
+My senses heave in this convulsion ! 
+
+I feel thee draw my heart, absorb, exhaust me: 
+
+Thou must! thou must! and though my life it cost me! 
+
+
+(He seizes the book, and mysteriously pronounces the sign of the 
+Spirit. A ruddy flame flashes: the Spirit appears in the 
+flame.) 
+
+
+Who calls me? 
+
+
+SPIRIT. 
+
+
+FAUST (with averted head). 
+Terrible to see! 
+
+
+SPIRIT. 
+
+
+Me hast thou long with might attracted, 
+Long from my sphere thy food exacted, 
+
+
+And now — 
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Woe! I endure not thee! 
+
+
+SPIRIT. 
+To view me is thine aspiration, 
+My voice to hear, my countenance to see; 
+
+
+22 FAUST. 
+
+
+Thy powerful yearning moveth me, 
+
+Here am I !— what mean perturbation 
+
+Thee, superhuman, shakes? Thy soul’s high calling, 
+where? 
+
+Where is the breast, which from itself a world did bear, 
+
+And shaped and cherished — which with joy expanded, 
+
+To be our peer, with us, the Spirits, banded ? 
+
+Where art thou, Faust, whose voice has pierced to me, 
+
+Who towards me pressed with all thine energy? 
+
+He art thou, who, my presence breathing, seeing, 
+
+Trembles through all the depths of being, 
+
+A writhing worm, a terror-stricken form ? 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Thee, form of flame, shall I then fear? 
+Yes, I am Faust: I am thy peer! 
+
+
+SPIRIT. 
+
+
+In the tides of Life, in Action’s storm,» 
+
+A fluctuant wave, 
+
+A shuttle free, 
+
+Birth and the Grave, 
+
+An eternal sea, 
+
+A weaving, flowing 
+
+Life, all-glowing, 
+Thus at Time’s humming loom ’t is my hand prepares 
+The garment of Life which the Deity wears ! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Thou, who around the wide world wendest, 
+Thou busy Spirit, how near I feel to thee! 
+
+
+SPIRIT. 
+
+
+Thou ’rt like the Spirit which thou comprehendest, 
+
+
+Not me! 
+( Disappears.) 
+
+
+SCENE J. 23 
+
+
+PAUST (overwhelmed). 
+Not thee! 
+
+
+Whom thcn? 
+I, image of the Godhead! 
+Not even like thee! 
+
+(A knock.) 
+
+
+O Death! — I know it —’t is my Famulus! 
+My fairest luck finds no fruition: 
+
+In all the fulness of my vision 
+
+The soulless sneak disturbs me thus! 
+
+
+{Znter WAGNER, in dressing-gown and night-cap,a lamp im 
+his hand. Faust turns impatiently.) 
+
+
+WAGNER.” 
+
+
+Pardon, I heard your declamation ; 
+
+”T was sure an old Greek tragedy you read? 
+In such an art I crave some preparation, 
+Since now it stands one in good stead. 
+
+I’ve often heard it said, a preacher 
+
+Might learn, with a comedian for a teacher. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Yes, when the priest comedian is by nature, 
+As haply now and then the case may be. 
+
+
+WAGNER. 
+
+
+Ah, when one studies thus, a prisoned creature, 
+That scarce the world on holidays can see, — 
+Scarce through a glass, by rare occasion, 
+
+How shall one lead it by persuasion? 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+You ‘ll ne’er attain it, save you know the feeling, 
+Save from the soul it rises clear, 
+Serene in primal strength, compelling 
+
+
+24 FA OST. 
+
+
+The hearts and minds of all who hear. 
+
+You sit forever gluing, patching ; 
+
+You cook the scraps from others’ fare ; 
+
+And from your heap of ashes hatching 
+
+A starveling flame, ye blow it bare! 
+
+Take children’s, monkeys’ gaze admiring, 
+
+If such your taste, and be content; 
+
+But ne’er from heart to heart you ’ll speak inspiring, 
+Save your own heart is eloquent! 
+
+
+WAGNER. 
+
+
+Yet through delivery orators succeed ; 
+I feel that I am far behind, indeed. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Seek thou the honest recompense! 
+
+Beware, a tinkling fool to be! 
+
+With little art, clear wit and sense 
+
+Suggest their own delivery ; 
+
+And if thou ’rt moved to speak in earnest, 
+
+What need, that after words thou yearnest? 
+
+Yes, your discourses, with their glittering show, 
+Where ye for men twist shredded thought like paper, 
+Are unrefreshing as the winds that blow 
+
+The rustling leaves through chill autumnal vapor! 
+
+
+WAGNER. 
+
+
+Ah, God! but Art is long, 
+
+And Life, alas! is fleeting. 
+
+And oft, with zeal my critic-duties meeting, 
+In head and breast there ’s something wrong. 
+How hard it is to compass the assistance 
+Whereby one rises to the source! 
+
+And, haply, ere one travels half the course 
+Must the poor devil quit existence. 
+
+
+SCENE J. 25 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Is parchment, then, the holy fount before thee, 
+
+A draught wherefrom thy thirst forever slakes ? 
+
+No true refreshment can restore thee, 
+
+Save what from thine own soul spontaneous breaks. 
+
+
+WAGNER. 
+
+
+Pardon! a great delight is granted 
+
+When, in the spirit of the ages planted, 
+
+We mark how, ere our time, a sage has thought, 
+
+And then, how far his work, and grandly, we have 
+brought. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+O yes, up to the stars at last! 
+
+Listen, my friend: the ages that are past 
+Are now a book with seven seals protected : 
+What you the Spirit of the Ages call 
+
+Is nothing but the spirit of you all, 
+Wherein the Ages are reflected. 
+
+So, oftentimes, you miserably mar it! - 
+
+At the first glance who sees it runs away. 
+An offal-barrel and a lumber-garret, 
+
+Or, at the best, a Punch-and-Judy play, 
+With maxims most pragmatical and hitting, 
+As in the mouths of puppets are befitting! 
+
+
+WAGNER. 
+
+
+But then, the world — the human heart and brain! 
+Of these one covets some slight apprehension. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Yes, of the kind which men attain! 
+
+Who dares the child’s true name in public mention ? 
+
+The few, who thereof something really learned, 
+VOL. I. 2 
+
+
+6 FAUST. 
+
+
+Unwisely frank, with hearts that spurned concealing, 
+And to the mob laid bare each thought and feeling, 
+Have evermore been crucified and burned.*5 
+
+I pray you, Friend, ’t is now the dead of night; 
+
+Our converse here must be suspended. 
+
+
+WAGNER. 
+
+
+I would have shared your watches with delight, 
+
+That so our learned talk might be extended.* 
+
+To-morrow, though, Ill ask, in Easter leisure, 
+
+This and the other question, at your pleasure. 
+
+Most zealously I seek for erudition : 
+
+Much do I know — but to know all is my ambition. 
+
+[2 rsh 
+
+FAUST (solus). 
+
+That brain, alone, not loses hope, whose choice is 
+
+To stick in shallow trash forevermore, — 
+
+Which digs with eager hand for buried ore, 
+
+And, when it finds an angle-worm, rejoices! 
+
+
+Dare such a human voice disturb the flow, 
+Around me here, of spirit-presence fullest ? 
+
+And yet, this once my thanks I owe 
+
+To thee, of all earth’s sons the poorest, dullest! 
+For thou hast torn me from that desperate state 
+Which threatened soon to overwhelm my senses: 
+The apparition was so giant-great, 
+
+It dwarfed and withered all my soul’s pretences! 
+
+
+I, image of the Godhead, who began — 
+
+Deeming Eternal Truth secure in nearness — 
+
+To sun myself in heavenly light and clearness, 
+And laid aside the earthly man;— 
+
+], more than Cherub, whose free force had planned 
+To flow through Nature’s veins in glad pulsation, 
+
+
+SCENE 1. 27 
+
+
+To reach beyond, enjoying in creation 
+The life of Gods, behold my expiation! 
+A thunder-word hath swept me from my stand.77 
+
+
+With thee I dare not venture to compare me. 
+Though I possessed the power to draw thee near me, 
+The power to keep thee was denied my hand. 
+When that ecstatic moment held me, 
+
+I felt myself so small,.so great; 
+
+But thou hast ruthlessly repelled me 
+
+Back upon Man’s uncertain fate. 
+
+What shall I shun? Whose guidance borrow? 
+Shall I accept that stress and strife ? 
+
+Ah! every deed of ours, no less than every sorrow, 
+Impedes the onward march of life. 
+
+
+Some alien substance more and more is cleaving 
+
+To all the mind conceives of grand and fair ; 
+
+When this world’s Good is won by our achieving, 
+
+The Better, then, is named a cheat and snare. 
+
+The fine emotions, whence our lives we mould, 
+
+Lie in the earthly tumult dumb and cold. 
+
+If hopeful Fancy once, in daring flight, 
+
+Her longings to the Infinite expanded, 
+
+Yet now a narrow space contents her quite, 
+
+Since Time’s wild wave so many a fortune stranded. 
+
+Care at the bottom of the heart is lurking: 
+
+Her secret pangs in silence working, 
+
+She, restless, rocks herself, disturbing joy and rest : 
+
+In newer masks her face is ever drest, 
+
+By turns as house and land, as wife and child, pre 
+sented, — 
+
+As water, fire, as poison, steel : 
+
+We dread the blows we never feel, 
+
+Aud what we never lose is yet by us lamented ! 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+28 FAUST. 
+
+
+1 am not like the Gods! That truth is felt too deep: 
+The worm am I, that in the dust doth creep, —- 
+That, while in dust it lives and seeks its bread, 
+Is crushed and buried by the wanderer’s tread. 
+
+
+Is not this dust, these walls within them hold, 
+
+The hundred shelves, which cramp and chain me, 
+
+The frippery, the trinkets thousand-fold, 
+
+That in this mothy den restrain me? 
+
+Here shall I find the help I need? 
+
+Shall here a thousand volumes teach me only 
+
+That men, self-tortured, everywhere must bleed, — 
+
+And here and there one happy man sits lonely ?* 
+
+What mean’st thou by that grin, thou hollow skull, 
+
+Save that thy brain, like mine, a cloudy mirror, 
+
+Sought once the shining day, and then, in twilight dull, 
+
+Thirsting for Truth, went wretchedly to Error? 
+
+Ye instruments, forsooth, but jeer at me 
+
+With wheel and cog, and shapes uncouth of wonder ; 
+
+I found the portal, you the keys should be; 
+
+Your wards are deftly wrought, but drive no bolts 
+asunder ! 
+
+Mysterious even in open day, 
+
+Nature retains her veil, despite our clamors: 
+
+That which she doth not willingly display 
+
+Cannot be wrenched from her with levers, screws, and 
+hammers. 
+
+Ye ancient tools, whose use I never knew, 
+
+Here, since my father used ye, still ye moulder: 
+
+Thou, ancient scroll, hast worn thy smoky hue 
+
+Since at this desk the dim lamp wont to smoulder. 
+
+’T were better far, had I my little idly spent, 
+
+Than now to sweat beneath its burden, I confess it! 
+
+What from your fathers’ heritage is lent, 
+
+Earn it anew, to really possess it!» 
+
+
+SCENE I. 29 
+
+
+What serves not, is a sore impediment : 
+The Moment’s need creates the thing to serve and bless 
+it! 
+
+
+Yet, wherefore turns my gaze to yonder point so lightly ? 
+Is yonder flask a magnet for mine eyes ? 
+
+Whence, all around me, glows the air so brightly, 
+
+As when in woods at night the mellow moonbeam lies? 
+
+
+I hail thee, wondrous, rarest vial! 
+
+I take thee down devoutly, for the trial: 
+Man’s art and wit I venerate in thee. 
+
+Thou summary of gentle slumber-juices, 
+Essence of deadly finest powers and uses, 
+Unto thy master show thy favor free! 
+
+I see thee, and the stings of pain diminish ; 
+I grasp thee, and my struggles slowly finish: 
+My spirit’s flood-tide ebbeth more and more. 
+Out on the cpen ocean speeds my dreaming ; 
+The glassy flood before my feet is gleaming, 
+A new day beckons to a newer shore! 
+
+
+A fiery chariot, borne on buoyant pinions, 
+
+Sweeps near me now! I soon shall ready be 
+
+To pierce the ether’s high, unknown dominions, 
+
+To reach new spheres of pure activity ! 
+
+This godlike rapture, this supreme existence, 
+
+Do I, but now a worm, deserve to track? 
+
+Yes, resolute to reach some brighter distance, 
+
+On Earth’s fair sun | turn my back !3* 
+
+Yes, let me dare those gates to fling asunder, 
+
+Which every man would fain go slinking by! 
+
+’T is time, through deeds this word of truth to thunder: 
+That with the height of Gods Man’s dignity may vie! 
+Nor from that gloomy gulf to shrink affrighted, 
+
+
+30 FAUST. 
+
+
+Where Fancy doth herself to self-born pangs compel, — 
+
+To struggle toward that pass benighted, 
+
+Around whose narrow mouth flame all the fires o: 
+Hell, — 
+
+To take this step with cheerful resolution, 
+
+Though Nothingness should be the certain, swift con- 
+clusion ! 
+
+
+And now come down, thou cup of crystal clearest! 
+Fresh from thine ancient cover thou appearest, 
+So many years forgotten to my thought ! 
+Thou shon’st at old ancestral banquets cheery, 
+The solemn guests thou madest merry, 
+When one thy wassail to the other brought. 
+The rich and skilful figures o’er thee wrought, 
+The drinker’s duty, rhyme-wise to explain them, 
+Or in one breath below the mark to drain them, 
+From many a night of youth my memory caught. 
+Now to a neighbor shall I pass thee never, 
+Nor on thy curious art to test my wit endeavor: 
+Here is a juice whence sleep is swiftly born. 
+It fills with browner flood thy crystal hollow ; 
+I chose, prepared it: thus I follow, — 
+With all my soul the final drink I swallow, 
+A solemn festal cup, a greeting to the morn! 
+
+(He sets the goblet to his mouth, 
+
+
+(Chime of bells and choral song.) 
+
+
+CHORUS OF ANGELS.* 
+Christ is arisen! 
+
+Joy to the Mortal One, 
+Whom the unmerited, 
+Clinging, inherited 
+Needs did imprison. 
+
+
+SCENE I. 31 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+What hollow humming, what a sharp, clear stroke, 
+
+Drives from my lip the goblet’s, at their meeting ? 
+
+Announce the booming bells already woke 
+
+The first glad hour of Easter’s festal greeting? 
+
+Ye choirs, have ye begun the sweet, consoling chant, 
+
+Which, through the night of Death, the angels minis- 
+trant 
+
+Sang, God’s new Covenant repeating ? 
+
+
+CHORUS OF WOMEN. 
+
+
+With spices and precious 
+Balm, we arrayed him; 
+Faithful and gracious, 
+
+We tenderly laid him: 
+
+Linen to bind him 
+
+Cleanlily wound we: 
+
+Ah! when we would find him, 
+Christ no more found we! 
+
+
+CHORUS OF ANGELS. 
+
+
+Christ is ascended ! 
+
+Bliss hath invested him, — 
+Woes that molested him, 
+Trials that tested him, 
+Gloriously ended! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Why, here in dust, entice me with your spell, 
+Ye gentle, powerful sounds of Heaven? 
+Peal rather there, where tender natures dwell. 
+Your messages I hear, but faith has not been given; 
+The dearest child of Faith is Miracle. 
+I venture not to soar to yonder regions 
+Whence the glad tidings hither float ; 
+
+
+32 FAUST. 
+
+
+And yet, from childhood up familiar with the note, 
+
+To Life it now renews the old allegiance. 
+
+Once Heavenly Love sent down a burning kiss 
+
+Upon my brow, in Sabbath silence holy ; 
+
+And, filled with mystic presage, chimed the church-bell 
+slowly, 
+
+And prayer dissolved me in a fervent bliss.3 
+
+A sweet, uncomprehended yearning 
+
+Drove forth my feet through woods and meadows free, 
+
+And while a thousand tears were burning, 
+
+I felt a world arise for me. 
+
+These chants, to youth and all its sports appealing, 
+
+Proclaimed the Spring’s rejoicing holiday ; 
+
+And Memory holds me now, with childish feeling, 
+
+Back from the last, the solemn way. 
+
+Sound on, ye hymns of Heaven, so sweet and miid! 
+
+My tears gush forth: the Earth takes back her child! 
+
+
+CHORUS OF DISCIPLES. 
+
+
+Has He, victoriously, 
+Burst from the vaulted 
+Grave, and all-gioriously 
+Now sits exalted ? 
+
+Is He, in glow of birth, 
+Rapture creative near ? ¥ 
+Ah! to the woe of earth 
+Still are we native here. 
+We, his aspiring 
+Followers, Him we miss ; 
+Weeping, desiring, 
+Master, Thy bliss! 
+
+
+CHORUS OF ANGELS. 
+
+
+Christ is arisen, 
+Out of Corruption’s womb: 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE 1. 
+
+
+Burst ye the prison, 
+
+Break from your gloom ! 
+Praising and picading him, 
+Lovingly needing him, 
+Brotherly feeding him, 
+Preaching and speeding him, 
+Blessing, succeeding Him, 
+Thus is the Master near, — 
+Thus is He here! 
+
+
+34 FAUST. 
+
+
+II. 
+BEFORE THE CITY-GATE.ss 
+
+
+(Pedestrians of all kinds come forth.) 
+
+
+SEVERAL APPRENTICES. 
+W HY do you go that way? 
+
+
+OTHERS. 
+We're for the Hunters’-lodge, to-day. 
+
+
+THE FIRST. 
+We'll saunter to the Mill, in yonder hollow. 
+
+
+AN APPRENTICE. 
+Go to the River Tavern, I should say. 
+
+
+SECOND APPRENTICE. 
+But then, it’s not a pleasant way. 
+
+
+THE OTHERS. 
+And what will you ? 
+
+
+A THIRD. 
+As goes the crowd, I follow. 
+
+
+A FOURTH. 
+Come up to Burgdorf ? There you'll find good cheer, 
+The finest lasses and the best of beer, 
+And jolly rows and squabbles, trust me! 
+
+
+I 
+
+
+SCENE JI. 35 
+
+
+A FIFTH. 
+
+
+You swaggering fellow, is your hide 
+A third time itching to be tried ? 
+I won’t go there, your jolly rows disgust me ! 
+
+
+SERVANT-GIRL. 
+No,—no! I’ll turn and go to town again. 
+
+
+ANOTHER. 
+We'll surely find him by those poplars yonder. 
+
+
+THE FIRST. 
+That ’s no great luck for me, ’t is plain. 
+You ’ll have him, when and where you wander: 
+His partner in the dance you ’ll be, — 
+But what is all your fun to me ? 
+
+
+THE OTHER. 
+
+
+He’s surely not alone to-day: 
+He ’ll be with Curly-head, I heard him say. 
+
+
+A STUDENT. 
+Deuce ! how they step, the buxom wenches ! 
+Come, Brother! we must see them to the benches. 
+A strong, old beer, a pipe that stings and bites, 
+A girl in Sunday clothes, — these three are my delights 
+
+
+CITIZEN’S DAUGHTER. 
+
+
+Just see those handsome fellows, there ! 
+It’s really shameful, I declare ; — 
+
+To follow servant-girls, when they 
+
+Might have the most genteel society to-day! 
+
+
+SECOND STUDENT (fo the First). 
+
+
+Not quite so fast! Two others come behind, — 
+Those, dressed so prettily and neatly. 
+
+
+36 FAUST. 
+
+
+My neighbor ’s one of them, I find, 
+
+A girl that takes my heart, completety. 
+They go their way with looks demure, 
+But they ’ll accept us, after all, I’m sure. 
+
+
+THE FIRST. 
+
+
+No, Brother! not for me their formal ways. 
+Quick! lest our game escape us in the press: 
+The hand that wields the broom on Saturdays 
+Will best, on Sundays, fondle and caress. 
+
+
+CITIZEN. 
+
+
+He suits me not at all, our new-made Burgomaster ! 
+Since he’s installed, his arrogance grows faster. 
+How has he helped the town, I say? 
+
+Things worsen, — what improvement names he? 
+Obedience, more than ever, claims he, 
+
+And more than ever we must pay ! 
+
+
+BEGGAR (sings). 
+Good gentlemen and lovely ladies, 
+So red of cheek and fine of dress, 
+Behold, how needful here your aid is, 
+And see and lighten my distress ! 
+Let me not vainly sing my ditty ; 
+He’s only glad who gives away : 
+A holiday, that shows your pity, 
+Shall be for me a harvest-day ! 
+
+
+ANOTHER CITIZEN. e 
+
+
+On Sundays, holidays, there ’s naught I take delight in, 
+Like gossiping of war, and war’s array, 
+
+When down in Turkey, far away, 
+
+The foreign people are a-fighting. 
+
+One at the window sits, with glass and friends, 
+
+
+SCENE II. 37 
+
+
+And sees all sorts of ships go down the river gliding: 
+And blesses then, as home he wends 
+At night, our times of peace abiding. 
+
+
+THIRD CITIZEN. 
+Yes, Neighbor! that’s my notion, too: 
+Why, let them break their heads, let loose their passions, 
+And mix things madly through and through, 
+So, here, we keep our good old fashions ! 
+
+
+OLD WOMAN (fo the Citizen's Daughter). 
+Dear me, how fine! So handsome, and so young! 
+Who would n’t lose his heart, that met you? 
+Don’t be so proud! 1 ll hold my tongue, 
+And what you ’d like I ’ll undertake to get you. 
+
+
+CITIZEN’S DAUGHTER. 
+
+
+Come, Agatha! I shun the witch’s sight 
+
+Before folks, lest there be misgiving : 
+
+’T is true, she showed me, on Saint Andrew’s Night, 
+My future sweetheart, just as he were living. 
+
+
+THE OTHER. 
+
+
+She showed me mine, in crystal clear,” 
+
+With several wild young blades, a soldier-lover : 
+I seek him everywhere, I pry and peer, 
+
+And yet, somehow, his face I can’t discover. 
+
+
+SOLDIERS. 
+
+
+Castles, with lofty 
+Ramparts and towers, 
+Maidens disdainful 
+In Beauty’s array, 
+Both shall be ours! 
+Bold is the venture, 
+Splendid the pay! 
+
+
+38 FAUST. 
+
+
+Lads, let the trumpets 
+For us be suing, — 
+Calling to pleasure, 
+Calling to ruin. 
+Stormy our life is ; 
+Such is its boon! 
+Maidens and castles 
+Capitulate soon. 
+
+Bold is the venture, 
+Splendid the pay! 
+And the soldiers go marching, 
+Marching away! 
+
+
+FAUST AND WAGNER. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Released from ice are brook and river #* 
+
+By the quickening glance of the gracious Spring; 
+The colors of hope to the valley cling, 
+
+And weak old Winter himself must shiver. 
+Withdrawn to the mountains, a crownless king: 
+Whence, ever retreating, he sends again 
+Impotent showers of sleet that darkle 
+
+In belts across the green o’ the plain. 
+
+But the sun will permit no white to sparkle; 
+Everywhere form in development moveth : 
+
+He will brighten the world with the tints he loveth, 
+And, lacking blossoms, blue, yellow, and red, 
+
+He takes these gaudy people instead. 
+
+Turn thee about, and from this height 
+
+Back on the town direct thy sight. 
+
+Out of the hollow, gloomy gate, 
+
+The motley throngs come forth elate: 
+
+Each will the joy of the sunshine hoard, 
+
+To honor the Day of the Risen Lord! 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE I. 39 
+
+
+They feel, themselves, their resurrection : 
+From the low, dark rooms, scarce habitable ; 
+From the bonds of Work, from Trade’s restriction; 
+From the pressing weight of roof and gable ; 
+From the narrow, crushing streets and alleys ; 
+From the churches’ solemn and reverend night, 
+All come forth to the cheerful light. 
+
+How lively, see! the multitude sallies, 
+Scattering through gardens and fields remote, 
+While over the river, that broadly dallies, 
+Dances so many a festive boat; 
+*And overladen, nigh to sinking, 
+
+The last full wherry takes the stream. 
+
+Yonder afar, from the hill-paths blinking, 
+Their clothes are colors that softly gleam. 
+
+I hear the noise of the village, even; 
+
+Here is the People’s proper Heaven; 
+
+Here high and low contented see ! 
+
+Here I am Man, — dare man to be! 
+
+
+WAGNER. 
+
+
+To stroll with you, Sir Doctor, flatters ; 
+
+'T is honor, profit, unto me. 
+
+But I, alone, would shun these shallow matters. 
+Since all that ’s coarse provokes my enmity. 
+
+This fiddling, shouting, ten-pin rolling 
+
+I hate, — these noises of the throng: 
+
+They rave, as Satan were their sports controlling, 
+And call it mirth, and call it song! 
+
+
+PEASANTS, UNDER THE LINDEN-TREE. 
+(Dance and Song.) 
+All for the dance the shepherd dressed,» 
+In ribbons, wreath, and gayest vest 
+Himself with care arraying: 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Around the linden lass and lad 
+Already footed it like mad: 
+Hurrah! hurrah! 
+Hurrah — tarara-la ! 
+The fiddle-bow was playing. 
+
+
+He broke the ranks, no whit afraid, 
+And with his elbow punched a maid, 
+Who stood, the dance surveying: 
+The buxom wench, she turned and said: 
+‘“‘ Now, you I call a stupid-head!” 
+Hurrah! hurrah! 
+Hurrah — tarara-la ! 
+“ Be decent while you ’re staying!” 
+
+
+Then round the circle went their flight, 
+They danced to left, they danced to right : 
+Their kirtles all were playing. 
+They first grew red, and then grew warm, 
+And rested, panting, arm in arm, — 
+Hurrah! hurrah! 
+Hurrah — tarara-la! 
+And hips and elbows straying. 
+
+
+Now, don’t be so familiar here! 
+How many a one has fooled his dear, 
+Waylaying and betraying! 
+And yet, he coaxed her soon aside, 
+And round the linden sounded wide: 
+Hurrah! hurrah! 
+Hurrah — tarara-la! 
+And the fiddle-bow was playing. 
+
+
+OLD PEASANT. 
+Sir Doctor, it is good of you,” 
+That thus you condescend, to-day, 
+
+
+SCENE I. 41 
+
+
+Among this crowd of merry folk, 
+
+A highly-learned man, to stray. 
+
+Then also take the finest can, 
+
+We fill with fresh wine, for your sake: 
+I offer it, and humbly wish 
+
+That not alone your thirst it slake, — 
+That, as the drops below its brink, 
+
+So many days of life you drink! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+I take the cup you kindly reach, 
+With thanks and health to all and each. 
+
+
+(Zhe People gather in a circle about him.) 
+
+
+OLD PEASANT. 
+
+
+In truth, ’t is well and fitly timed, 
+That now our day of joy you share, 
+Who heretofore, in evil days, 
+
+Gave us so much of helping care. 
+Still many a man stands living here, 
+Saved by your father’s skilful hand, 
+That snatched him from the fever’s rage 
+And stayed the plague in all the land. 
+Then also you, though but a youth,# 
+Went into every house of pain: 
+Many the corpses carried forth, 
+
+But you in health came out again. 
+
+No test or trial you evaded : 
+
+A Helping God the helper aided. 
+
+
+ALL. 
+
+
+Health to the man, so skilled and tried, 
+That for our help he long may bide! 
+
+
+42 FAUST. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+To Him above bow down, my friends, 
+Who teaches help, and succor sends! 
+
+
+(He goes on with WAGNER.) 
+
+
+WAGNER. 
+
+
+With what a feeling, thou great man, must thou 
+Receive the people’s honest veneration! 
+
+How lucky he, whose gifts his station 
+
+With such advantages endow! 
+
+Thou ’rt shown to all the younger generation : 
+Fach asks, and presses near to gaze ; 
+
+The fiddie stops, the dance delays. 
+
+Thou goest, they stand in rows to see, 
+
+And all the caps are lifted high ; 
+
+A little more, and they would bend the knee 
+As if the Holy Host came by. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+A few more steps ascend, as far as yonder stone! — 
+
+Here from our wandering will we rest contented. 
+
+Here, lost in thought, I ’ve lingered oft alone, 
+
+When foolish fasts and prayers my life tormented. 
+
+Here, rich in hope and firm in faith, 
+
+With tears, wrung hands and sighs, I ’ve striven, 
+
+The end of that far-spreading death 
+
+Entreating from the Lord of Heaven! 
+
+Now like contempt the crowd’s applauses seem: 
+
+Couldst thou but read, within mine inmost spirit, 
+
+How little now I deem 
+
+That sire or son such praises merit! 
+
+My father’s was a sombre, brooding brain, 
+
+Which through the holy spheres of Nature groped and 
+wandered, 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE II. 43 
+
+
+And honestly, in his own fashion, pondered 
+
+With Jabor whimsical, and pain: 
+
+Who, in his dusky work-shop bending, 
+
+With proved adepts in company, 
+
+Made, from his recipes unending, 
+
+Opposing substances agree. 
+
+There was a Lion red, a wooer daring,” 
+
+Within the Lily’s tepid bath espoused, 
+
+And both, tormented then by flame unsparing, 
+
+By turns in either bridal chamber housed. 
+
+If then appeared, with colors splendid, 
+
+The young Queen in her crystal shell, 
+
+This was the medicine — the patients’ woes soon ended, 
+And none demanded: who got well ? 
+
+Thus we, our hellish boluses compounding, 
+
+Among these vales and hills surrounding, 
+
+Worse than the pestilence, have passed. 
+
+Thousands were done to death from poison of my giving; 
+And I must hear, by all the living, 
+
+The shameless murderers praised at last! 
+
+
+WAGNER. 
+
+
+Why, therefore, yield to such depression ? 
+
+A good man does his honest share 
+
+In exercising, with the strictest care, 
+
+The art bequeathed to his possession! 
+
+Dost thou thy father honor, as a youth? 
+
+Then may his teaching cheerfully impel thee : 
+Dost thou, as man, increase the stores of truth ? 
+Then may thine own son afterwards excel thee. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+O happy he, who still renews 
+The hope, from Error’s deeps to rise forever ! 
+That which one does not know, one needs to use ; 
+
+
+
+
+
+44 FAUST. 
+
+
+And what one knows, one uses never. 
+
+But let us not, by such despondence, so 
+
+The fortune of this hour embitter ! 
+
+Mark how, beneath the evening sunlight’s glow, 
+
+The green-embosomed houses glitter! 
+
+The glow retreats, done is the day of toil, 
+
+It yonder hastes, new fields of life exploring ; 
+
+Ah, that no wing can lift me from the soil, 
+
+Upon its track to follow, follow soaring ! 
+
+Then would I see eternal Evening gild 
+
+The silent world beneath me glowing, 
+
+On fire each mountain-peak, with peace each valley 
+filled, 
+
+The silver brook to golden rivers flowing. 
+
+The mountain-chain, with all its gorges deep, 
+
+Would then no more impede my godlike motion ; 
+
+And now before mine eyes expands the ocean 
+
+With all its bays, in shining sleep! 
+
+Yet, finally, the weary god is sinking ; 
+
+The new-born impulse fires my mind, — 
+
+I hasten on, his beams eternal drinking, 
+
+The Day before me and the Night behind, 
+
+Above me heaven unfurled, the floor of waves beneath 
+me, — 
+
+A glorious dream! though now the glories fade. 
+
+Alas ! the wings that lift the mind no aid 
+
+Of wings to lift the body can bequeath me. 
+
+Yet in each soul is born the pleasure 
+
+Of yearning onward, upward and away, 
+
+When o’er our heads, lost in the vaulted azure, 
+
+The lark sends down his flickering lay, — 
+
+When over crags and piny highlands 
+
+The poising eagle slowly soars, 
+
+And over plains and lakes and islands 
+
+The crane sails by to other shores. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE I. 45 
+
+
+WAGNER. 
+I've had, myself, at times, some odd caprices, 
+But never yet such impulse felt, as this is. 
+One soon fatigues, on woods and fields to look, 
+Nor would I beg the bird his wing to spare us: 
+How otherwise the mental raptures bear us 
+From page to page, from book to book! 
+Then winter nights take loveliness untold, 
+As warmer life in every limb had crowned you ; 
+And when your hands unroll some parchment rare and 
+old, 
+All Heaven descends, and opens bright around you! . 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+One impulse art thou conscious of, at best; 
+
+O, never seek to know the other! 
+
+Two souls, alas! reside within my breast, 
+
+And each withdraws from, and repels, its brother. 
+One with tenacious organs holds in love 
+
+And clinging lust the world in its embraces ; 
+
+The other strongly sweeps, this dust above, 
+
+Into the high ancestral spaces. 
+
+If there be airy spirits near, 
+
+’T wixt Heaven and Earth on potent errands fleeing, 
+Let them drop down the golden atmosphere, 
+
+And bear me forth to new and varied being! 
+
+Yea, if a magic mantle once were mine, 
+
+To waft me o’er the world at pleasure, 
+
+I would not for the costliest stores of treasure — 
+Not for a monarch’s robe — the gift resign. 
+
+
+WAGNER. 
+Invoke not thus the well-known throng, 
+Which through the firmament diffused is faring, 
+And danger thousand-fold, our race to wrong, 
+
+
+
+
+
+46 FAUST. 
+
+
+In every quarter is preparing. 
+
+Swift from the North the spirit-fangs so sharp“ 
+Sweep down, and with their barbéd points assail you; 
+Then from the East they come, to dry and warp 
+Your lungs, till breath and being fail you: 
+
+If from the Desert sendeth them the South, 
+
+With fire on fire your throbbing forehead crowning, 
+The West leads on a host, to cure the drouth 
+
+Only when meadow, field, and you are drowning. 
+They gladly hearken, prompt for injury, — 
+
+Gladly obey, because they gladly cheat us; 
+
+From Heaven they represent themselves to be, 
+And lisp like angels, when with lies they meet us 
+But, let us go! ’T is gray and dusky all: 
+
+The air is cold, the vapors fall. 
+
+At night, one learns his house to prize : — 
+
+Why stand you thus, with such astonished eyes? 
+What, in the twilight, can your mind so trouble ? 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Seest thou the black dog coursing there, through corn 
+and stubble ?4s 
+
+
+WAGNER. 
+Long since: yet deemed him not important in the least. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Inspect him close: for what tak’st thou the beast? 
+
+
+WAGNER. 
+
+
+Why, for a poodle who has lost his master, 
+And scents about, his track to find. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Seest thou the spiral circles, narrowing faster, 
+Which he, approaching, round us seems to wind? 
+
+
+SCENE II. 47 
+
+
+A streaming trail of fire, if I see rightly, 
+Follows his path of mystery. 
+WAGNER. 
+
+
+It may be that your eyes deceive you slightly ; 
+Naught but a plain black poodle do I see. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+It seems to me that with enchanted cunning 
+He snares our feet, some future chain to bind. 
+
+
+WAGNER. 
+
+
+I see him timidly, in doubt, around us running, 
+Since, in his master’s stead, two strangers doth he find 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+The circle narrows: he is near! 
+
+
+WAGNER. 
+
+
+A dog thou seest, and not a phantom, here! 
+Behold him stop — upon his belly crawl — 
+His tail set wagging: canine habits, all! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Come, follow us! Come here, at least! 
+
+
+WAGNER. 
+*T is the absurdest, drollest beast. 
+Stand still, and you will see him wait; 
+Address him, and he gambols straight ; 
+If something ’s lost, he’ll quickly bring it, — 
+Your cane, if in the stream you fling it. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+No doubt you’re right: no trace of mind, I own, 
+Is in the beast: I see but drill, alone. 
+
+
+
+
+
+48 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+WAGNER. 
+The dog, when he’s well educated, 
+Is by the wisest tolerated. 
+Yes, he deserves your favor thoroughly, — 
+The clever scholar of the students, he! 
+
+
+( They pass in the city-gate.) 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE Ill. 49 
+
+
+IIT. 
+THE STUDY. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+(Entering, with the poodle.) 
+EHIND me, field and meadow sleeping, 
+I leave in deep, prophetic night, 
+
+Within whose dread and holy keeping 
+The better soul awakes to light. . 
+The wild desires no longer win us, 
+The deeds of passion cease to chain; 
+The love of Man revives within us, 
+The love of God revives again. 
+
+
+Be still, thou poodle! make not such racket and riot! 
+Why at the threshold wilt snuffing be? 
+
+Behind the stove repose thee in quiet! 
+
+My softest cushion I give to thee. 
+
+As thou, up yonder, with running and leaping 
+Amused us hast, on the mountain’s crest, 
+
+So now I take thee into my keeping, 
+
+A welcome, but also a silent, guest. 
+
+
+Ah, when, within our narrow chamber 
+The lamp with friendly lustre glows, 
+Flames in the breast each faded ember, 
+And in the heart, itself that knows. 
+Then Hope again lends sweet assistance, 
+And Reason then resumes her speech : 
+One yearns, the rivers of existence, 
+The very founts of Life, to reach. 
+
+VOL. I. 3 D 
+
+
+50 FAUST. 
+
+
+Snarl not, poodle! To the sound that rises, 
+The sacred tones that my soul embrace, 
+This bestial noise is out of place. 
+
+We are used to see, that Man despises 
+
+What he never comprehends, 
+
+And the Good and the Beautiful vilipends, 
+Finding them often hard to measure : 
+
+Will the dog, like man, snarl Azs displeasure ? 
+
+
+But ah! I feel, though will thereto be stronger, 
+Contentment flows from out my breast no longer. 
+Why must the stream so soon run dry and fail us, 
+And burning thirst again assail us ? 
+
+Therein I ’ve borne so much probation! 
+
+And yet, this want may be supplied us ; 
+
+We call the Supernatural to guide us: 
+
+We pine and thirst for Revelation, 
+
+Which nowhere worthier is, more nobly sent, 
+Than here, in our New Testament. 
+
+I feel impelled, its meaning to determine, — 
+With honest purpose, once for all, 
+
+The hallowed Original 
+
+To change to my beloved German. 
+
+
+(He opens a volume, and commences.) 
+
+
+’T is written: “In the Beginning was the Word.” # 
+Here am I balked: who, now, can help afford ? 
+The Word ? — impossible so high to rate it; 
+
+And otherwise must | translate it, 
+
+If by the Spirit I am truly taught. 
+
+Then thus: “In the Beginning was the 7hought.” 
+This first line let me weigh completely, 
+
+Lest my impatient pen proceed too fleetly. 
+
+Is it the 7hoxght which works, creates, indeed ? 
+“In the Beginning was the Power,” I read. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE. III. 51 
+
+
+Yet, as 1 write, a warning is suggested, 
+That I the sense may not have fairly tested. 
+The Spirit aids me: now I see the light! 
+“In the Beginning was the Acé,” I write. 
+
+
+If I must share my chamber with thee, 
+Poodle, stop that howling, prithee! 
+Cease to bark and bellow! 
+
+Such a noisy, disturbing fellow 
+
+I'll no longer suffer near me. 
+
+One of us, dost hear me! 
+
+Must leave, I fear me. 
+
+No longer guest-right I bestow ; 
+
+The door is open, art free to go. 
+
+But what do I see in the creature? 
+Is that in the course of nature ? 
+
+Is’t actual fact? or Fancy’s shows? 
+How long and broad my poodle grows! 
+He rises mightily : 
+
+A canine form that cannot be! 
+
+What a spectre I ’ve harbored thus ! 
+He resembles a hippopotamus, 
+
+With fiery eyes, teeth terrible to see: 
+O, now am I sure of thee! 
+
+For all of thy half-hellish brood 
+
+The Key of Solomon is good.¥ 
+
+
+SPIRITS (i the corridor). 
+Some one, within, is caught ! 
+Stay without, follow him not! 
+Like the fox in a snare, 
+Quakes the old hel-lynx there. 
+Take heed — look about! 
+Back and forth hover, 
+
+Under and over, 
+
+
+52 
+
+
+FA OST. 
+
+
+And he’!l work himself out. 
+If your aid can avail him, 
+
+Let it not fail him ; 
+
+For he, without measure, 
+
+Has wrought for our pleasure. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+First, to encounter the beast, 
+The Words of the Four be addressed: # 
+Salamander, shine glorious ! 
+Wave, Undine, as bidden! 
+Sylph, be thou hidden ! 
+Gnome, be laborious! 
+
+
+Who knows not their sense 
+(These elements), — 
+
+Their properties 
+
+And power not sees, — 
+
+No mastery he inherits 
+Over the Spirits. 
+
+
+Vanish in flaming ether, 
+Salamander! 
+
+Flow foamingly together, 
+Undine! 
+
+Shine in meteor-sheen, 
+
+Sylph! 
+
+Bring help to hearth and shelf, 
+Incubus! Incubus! 
+
+Step forward, and finish thus ‘ 
+
+
+Of the Four, no feature 
+
+Lurks in the creature. 
+
+Quiet he lies, and grins disdain : 
+
+Not yet, it seems, have I given him pain. 
+
+
+SCENE Il. 53 
+
+
+Now, to undisguise thee, 
+Hear me exorcise thee! 
+Art thou, my gay one, 
+Hell’s fugitive stray-one ? 
+The sign witness now, 
+Before which they bow, 
+The cohorts of Hell! 
+
+
+With hair all bristling, it begins to swell. 
+
+
+Base Being, hearest thou ? 
+Knowest and fearest thou 
+
+The One, unoriginate,® 
+
+Named inexpressibly, 
+
+Through all Heaven impermeate, 
+Pierced irredressibly ! 
+
+
+Behind the stove still banned, 
+
+See it, an elephant, expand! 
+
+It fills the space entire, 
+
+Mist-like melting, ever faster. 
+
+*T is enough: ascend no higher, — 
+
+Lay thyself at the feet of the Master ! 
+Thou seest, not vain the threats I bring thee: 
+With holy fire I'll scorch and sting thee! 
+Wait not to know 
+
+The threefold dazzling glow ! 
+
+Wait not to know 
+
+The strongest art within my hands! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES ** 
+
+
+(ohsle the vapor is dissipating, steps forth from behind the stoun 
+in the costume of a Travelling Scholar). 
+
+
+Why such a noise? What are my lord’s commands? 
+
+
+54 FAUST. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+This was the poodle’s real core, 
+A travelling scholar, then? The casus is diverting. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+The learned gentleman I bow before: 
+You ’ve made me roundly sweat, that ’s certain! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+What is thy name? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+A question small, it seems, 
+For one whose mind the Word so much despises ; 
+Who, scorning all external gleams, 
+‘he depths of being only prizes. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+With all you gentlemen, the name ’s a test, 
+
+Whereby the nature usually is expressed. 
+
+Clearly the latter it implies 
+
+In names like Beelzebub, Destroyer, Father of Lies.* 
+Who art thou, then? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Part of that Power, not understood, 
+Which always wills the Bad, and always works the Good. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+What hidden sense in this enigma lies? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+I am the Spirit that Denies ! 53 
+And justly so: for all things, from the Void 
+Called forth, deserve to be destroyed : 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE III. 55 
+
+
+*T were better, then, were naught created. 
+Thus, all which you as Sin have rated, — 
+Destruction, — aught with Evil blent, — 
+That is my proper element. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Thou nam’st thyself a part, yet show’st complete to me? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+The modest truth I speak to thee. 
+
+If Man, that microcosmic fool, can see 
+
+Himself a whole so frequently, 
+
+Part of the Part am I, once All, in primal Night, — 
+Part of the Darkness which brought forth the Light, 
+The haughty Light, which now disputes the space, 
+And claims of Mother Night her ancient place. 
+
+And yet, the struggle fails; since Light, howe’er it weaves, 
+Still, fettered, unto bodies cleaves : 
+
+It flows from bodies, bodies beautifies ; 
+
+By bodies is its course impeded ; 
+
+And so, but little time is needed, 
+
+I hope, ere, as the bodies die, it dies! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+I see the plan thou art pursuing: 
+Thou canst not compass general ruin, 
+And hast on smaller scale begun. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+And truly ’t is not much, when all is done. 
+
+That which to Naught is in resistance set, — 
+
+The Something of this clumsy world, — has yet, 
+With all that I have undertaken, 
+
+Not been by me disturbed or shaken: 
+
+From earthquake, tempest, wave, volcano’s brand, 
+
+
+56 FAUST, 
+
+
+Back into quiet settle sea and land! 
+
+And that damned stuff, the bestial, human brood, — 
+What use, in having that to play with? 
+
+How many have I made away with! 
+
+And ever circulates a newer, fresher blood. 
+
+It makes me furious, such things beholding: 
+From Water, Earth, and Air unfolding, 
+
+A thousand germs break forth and grow, 
+
+In dry, and wet, and warm, and chilly ; 
+
+And had I not the Flame reserved, why, really, 
+There ’s nothing special of my own to show! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+So, to the actively eternal 
+Creative force, in cold disdain 
+You now oppose the fist infernal, 
+Whose wicked clench is all in vain! 
+Some other labor seek thou rather, 
+Queer Son of Chaos, to begin ! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Well, we ’ll consider: thou canst gather 
+My views, when next I venture in. 
+Might I, perhaps, depart at present? 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Why thou shouldst ask, I don’t perceive. 
+Though our acquaintance is so recent, 
+For further visits thou hast leave. 
+The window ’s here, the door is yonder ; 
+A chimney, also, you behold. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+I must confess that forth I may not wander, | 
+My steps by one slight obstacle controlled, — 
+The wizard’s-foot, that on your threshold made is.5s 
+
+
+SCENE Til. 57 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+The pentagram prohibits thee? 
+
+Why, tell me now, thou Son of Hades, 
+
+If that prevents, how cam’st thou in to me? 
+Could such a spirit be so cheated ? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Inspect the thing: the drawing ’s not completed. 
+The outer angle, you may see, 
+Is open left — the lines don’t fit it. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+‘Well, — Chance, this time, has fairly hit it! 
+And thus, thou ’rt prisoner to me? 
+It seems the business has succeeded. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+‘Che poodle naught remarked, as after mee he speeded; 
+But other aspects now obtain: 
+The Devil can’t get out again. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Try, then, the open window-pane ! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+for Devils and for spectres this is law: 
+Where they have entered in, there also they withdraw. 
+The first is free to us; we’re governed by the second. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+in Hell itself, then, laws are reckoned? 
+That’s well! So might a compact be 
+Made with you gentlemen —and binding, — surely ? 
+3* 
+
+
+
+
+
+58 FAUST, 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+All that is promised shall delight thee purely; 
+No skinflint bargain shalt thou see. 
+But this is not of swift conclusion; 
+We'll talk about the matter soon. 
+And now, I do entreat this boon — 
+Leave to withdraw from my intrusion. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+One moment more I ask thee to remain, 
+Some pleasant news, at least, to tell me. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Release me, now! I soon shall come again; 
+Then thou, at will, mayst question and compel me. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+I have not snares around thee cast; 
+
+Thyself bast led thyself into the meshes. 
+
+Who traps the Devil, hold him fast! 
+
+Not soon a second time he’ll catch a prey so precious. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+An’t please thee, also I’m content to stay, 
+And serve thee in a social station ; 
+
+But stipulating, that I may 
+
+With arts of mine afford thee recreation. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Thereto I willingly agree, 
+If the diversion pleasant be. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+My friend, thou ‘It win, past all pretences, 
+More in this hour to soothe thy senses, 
+Than in the year’s monotony. 
+
+
+SCENE Ill. 59 
+
+
+That which the dainty spirits sing thee, 
+The lovely pictures they shall bring thee. 
+Are more than magic’s empty show. 
+Thy scent will be to bliss invited; 
+
+Thy palate then with taste delighted, 
+Thy nerves of touch ecstatic glow! 
+
+All unprepared, the charm I spin: 
+We're here together, so begin! 
+
+
+SPIRITS.* 
+Vanish, ye darkling 
+Arches above him! 
+Loveliest weather, 
+Born of blue ether, 
+Break from the sky ! 
+O that the darkling 
+Clouds had departed! 
+Starlight is sparkling, 
+Tranquiller-hearted 
+Suns are on high. 
+Heaven’s own children 
+In beauty bewildering, 
+Waveringly bending, 
+Pass as they hover ; 
+Longing unending 
+Follows them over. 
+They, with their glowing 
+Garments, out-flowing, 
+Cover, in going, 
+Landscape and bower, 
+Where, in seclusion, 
+Lovers are plighted, 
+Lost in illusion. 
+
+Bower on bower! 
+Tendrils unblighted ! 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+FAOST. 
+
+
+Lo! in a shower 
+Grapes that o’ercluster 
+Gush into must, or 
+Flow into rivers 
+
+Of foaming and flashing 
+Wine, that is dashing 
+Gems, as it boundeth 
+Down the high places, 
+And spreading, surroundeth 
+With crystalline spaces, 
+In happy embraces, 
+Blossoming forelands, 
+Emerald shore-lands ! 
+And the winged races 
+Drink, and fly onward — 
+Fly ever sunward 
+
+To the enticing 
+
+Islands, that flatter, 
+Dipping and rising 
+Light on the water! 
+Hark, the inspiring 
+Sound of their quiring! 
+See, the entrancing 
+Whirl of their dancing ! 
+All in the air are 
+
+Freer and fairer. 
+
+Some of them scaling 
+Boldly the highlands, 
+Others are sailing, 
+Circling the islands ; 
+Others are flying ; 
+Life-ward all hieing, — 
+All for the distant 
+
+Star of existent 
+Rapture and Love! 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE 111. 61 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+He sleeps! Enough, ye fays! your airy number 
+
+Have sung him truly into slumber : 
+
+For this performance I your debtor prove. — 
+
+Not yet art thou the man, to catch the Fiend and hold 
+him !— 
+
+With fairest images of dreams infold him, 
+
+Plunge him in seas of sweet untruth! 
+
+Yet, for the threshold’s magic which controlled him, 
+
+The Devil needs a rat’s quick tooth. 
+
+I use no lengthened invocation : 
+
+Here rustles one that soon will work my liberation. 
+
+
+The lord of rats and eke of mice, 
+
+Of flies and bed-bugs, frogs and lice, 
+
+Summons thee hither to the door-sill, 
+
+To gnaw it where, with just a morsel 
+
+Of oil, he paints the spot for thee : — 
+
+There com’st thou, hopping on to me! 
+
+To work, at once! The point which made me craven 
+
+Is forward, on the ledge, engraven. 
+
+Another bite makes free the door : 
+
+So, dream thy dreams, O Faust, until we meer unce 
+more ! 
+
+
+FAUST (aweaking). 
+
+
+Am I again so foully cheated ? 
+
+Remains there naught of lofty spirit-sway, 
+But that a dream the Devil counterfeited, 
+And that a poodle ran away? 
+
+
+62 FACST. 
+
+
+IV. 
+
+
+THE STUDY. 
+FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+A KNOCK? Comein! Again my quiet broken ? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+‘Tis I! 
+FAUST. 
+Come in! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Thrice must the words be spoken. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Come in, then! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Thus thou pleasest me. 
+I hope we ’Il suit each other well ; 
+For now, thy vapors to dispel, 
+I come, a squire of high degree,57 
+In scarlet coat, with golden trimming, 
+A cloak in silken lustre swimming, 
+A tall cock’s-feather in my hat, 
+A long, sharp sword for show or quarrel, — 
+And I advise thee, brief and flat, 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE IV. 63 
+
+
+To don the self-same gay apparel, 
+That, from this den released, and free, 
+Life be at last revealed to thee ! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+This life of earth, whatever my attire, 
+
+Would pain me in its wonted fashion.* 
+
+Too old am I to play with passion ; 
+
+Too young, to be without desire. 
+
+What from the world have I to gain? 
+
+Thou shalt abstain — renounce — refrain ! 
+
+Such is the everlasting song 
+
+That in the ears of all men rings, — 
+
+That unrelieved, our whole life long, 
+
+Each hour, in passing, hoarsely sings. 
+
+In very terror I at morn awake, 
+
+Upon the verge of bitter weeping, 
+
+To see the day of disappointment break, 
+
+To no one hope of mine — not one — its promise keep- 
+ing :— 
+
+That even each joy’s presentiment 
+
+With wilful cavil would diminish, 
+
+With grinning masks of life prevent 
+
+My mind its fairest work to finish! 
+
+Then, too, when night descends, how anxiously 
+
+Upon my couch of sleep I lay me: 
+
+There, also, comes no rest to me,” 
+
+But some wild dream is sent to fray me. 
+
+The God that in my breast is owned 
+
+Can deeply stir the inner sources ; 
+
+The God, above my powers enthroned, 
+
+He cannot change external forces. 
+
+So, by the burden of my days oppressed, 
+
+Death is desired, and Life a thing unblest! 
+
+
+
+
+
+64 FAUST. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+And yet is never Death a wholly welcome guest. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+O fortunate, for whom, when victory glances, 
+The bloody laurels on the brow he bindeth ! 
+Whom, after rapid, maddening dances, 
+
+In clasping maiden-arms he findeth ! 
+
+O would that I, before that spirit-power, 
+Ravished and rapt from life, had sunken! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+And yet, by some one, in that nightly hour, 
+A certain liquid was not drunken. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Eavesdropping, ha! thy pleasure seems to be. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Omniscient am I not; yet much is known to me. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Though some familiar tone, retrieving 
+My thoughts from torment, led me on, 
+And sweet, clear echoes came, deceiving 
+A faith bequeathed from Childhood’s dawn, 
+Yet now I curse whate’er entices 
+
+And snares the soul with visions vain; 
+With dazzling cheats and dear devices 
+Confines it in this cave of pain! 
+
+Cursed be, at once, the high ambition 
+Wherewith the mind itself deludes ! 
+Cursed be the glare of apparition 
+
+That on the finer sense intrudes ! 
+
+
+SCENE IV. 65 
+
+
+Cursed be the lying dream’s impression 
+
+Of name, and fame, and laurelled brow! 
+Cursed, all that flatters as possession, 
+
+As wife and child, as knave and plow! 
+Cursed Mammon be, when he with treasures 
+To restless action spurs our fate! 
+
+Cursed when, for soft, indulgent leisures, 
+He lays for us the pillows straight! 
+
+Cursed be the vine’s transcendent nectar, — 
+The highest favor Love lets fall! 
+
+Cursed, also, Hope ! — cursed Faith, the spectre! 
+And cursed be Patience most of all! 
+
+
+CHORUS OF SPIRITS (snviséble).© 
+
+
+Woe! woe! 
+
+Thou hast it destroyed, 
+
+The beautiful world, 
+
+With powerful fist : 
+
+In ruin ’t is hurled, 
+
+By the blow of a demigod shattered! 
+The scattered 
+
+Fragments into the Void we carry, 
+Deploring 
+
+The beauty perished beyond restoring. 
+Mightier 
+
+For the children of men, 
+
+Brightlier 
+
+Build it again, 
+
+In thine own bosom build it anew! 
+Bid the new career 
+
+Commence, 
+
+With clearer sense, 
+
+And the new songs of cheer 
+
+Be sung thereto! 
+
+
+66 
+
+
+FA OST. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+These are the small dependants 
+
+Who give me attendance. 
+
+Hear them, to deeds and passion 
+
+Counsel in shrewd old-fashion ! 
+
+Into the world of strife, 
+
+Out of this lonely life 
+
+That of senses and sap has betrayed thee, 
+They would persuade thee. 
+
+This nursing of the pain forego thee, 
+That, like a vulture, feeds upon thy breast! 
+The worst society thou find’st will show thee 
+Thou art a man among the rest. 
+
+But ’t is not meant to thrust 
+
+Thee into the mob thou hatest! 
+
+I am not one of the greatest, 
+
+Yet, wilt thou to me entrust 
+
+Thy steps through life, I'll guide thee, — 
+Will willingly walk beside thee, — 
+
+Will serve thee at once and forever 
+
+With best endeavor, 
+
+And, if thou art satisfied, 
+
+Will as servant, slave, with thee abide. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+And what shall be my counter-service therefor ? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+The time is long: thou need’st not now insist. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+No—no! The Devil is an egotist, 
+And is not apt, without a why or wherefore, 
+“ For God’s sake,” others to assist. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE IJV. 67 
+
+
+Speak thy conditions plain and clear! 
+With such a servant danger comes, I fear. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Here, an unwearied slave, 1 ’ll wear thy tether, 
+And to thine every nod obedient be: 
+
+When here again we come together, 
+
+Then shalt thou do the same for me. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+The 7here my scruples naught increases. 
+When thou hast dashed this world to pieces, 
+The other, then, its place may fill. 
+
+Here, on this earth, my pleasures have their sources ; 
+Yon sun beholds my sorrows in his courses ; 
+And when from these my life itself divorces, 
+Let happen all that can or will! 
+
+Ill hear no more: ’t is vain to ponder 
+
+If there we cherish love or hate, 
+
+Or, in the spheres we dream of yonder, 
+
+A High and Low our souls await. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+In this sense, even, canst thou venture. 
+Come, bind thyself by prompt indenture, 
+And thou mine arts with joy shalt see: 
+What no man ever saw, I ’Il give to thee. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Canst thou, poor Devil, give me whatsoever ? 
+When was a human soul, in its supreme endeavor, 
+E’er understood by such as thou? 
+
+Yet, hast thou food which never satiates, now, — 
+The restless, ruddy gold hast thou, 
+
+That runs, quicksilver-like, one’s fingers through, — 
+
+
+68 FAUST. 
+
+
+A game whose winnings no man ever knew, — 
+
+A maid, that, even from my breast, 
+
+Beckons my neighbor with her wanton glances, 
+And Honor’s godlike zest, 
+
+The meteor that a moment dances, — 
+
+Show me the fruits that, ere they ’re gathered, rot, 
+And trees that daily with new leafage clothe them! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Such a demand alarms me not: 
+
+Such treasures have I, and can show them. 
+
+But still the time may reach us, good my friend, 
+When peace we crave and more luxurious diet. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+When on an idler’s bed I stretch myself in quiet, 
+There let, at once, my record end! 
+
+Canst thou with lying flattery rule me, 
+
+Until, self-pleased, myself I see, — 
+
+Canst thou with rich enjoyment fool me, 
+
+Let that day be the last for me! 
+
+The bet I offer. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Done! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+And heartily ! 
+When thus I hail the Moment flying: 
+“ Ah, still delay — thou art so fair!” % 
+Then bind me in thy bonds undying, 
+My final ruin then declare! 
+Then let the death-bell chime the token, 
+Then art thou from thy service free! 
+The clock may stop, the hand be broken, 
+Then Time be finished unto me! 
+
+
+SCENE IV. 69 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Consider well: my memory good is rated. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Thou hast a perfect right thereto. 
+
+My powers I have not rashly estimated : 
+
+A slave am I, whate’er 1 do— 
+
+If thine, or whose? ’t is need’ess to debate it. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Then at the Doctors’-banquet I, to-day, 
+
+Will as a servant wait behind thee. 
+
+But one thing more! Beyond all risk to bind thee, 
+Give me a line or two, I pray. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Demand’st thou, Pedant, too, a document? 
+
+Hast never known a man, nor proved his word’s intent? 
+Is ’t not enough, that what I speak to-day 
+
+Shall stand, with all my future days agreeing? 
+
+In all its tides sweeps not the world away, 
+
+And shall a promise bind my being? 
+
+Yet this delusion in our hearts we bear: 
+
+Who would himself therefrom deliver? 
+
+Blest he, whose bosom Truth makes pure and fair! 
+No sacrifice shall he repent of ever. 
+
+Nathless a parchment, writ and stamped with care, 
+A spectre is, which all to shun endeavor. 
+
+The word, alas! dies even in the pen, 
+
+And wax and leather keep the lordship then. 
+
+What wilt from me, Base Spirit, say ?— 
+
+Brass, marble, parchment, paper, clay? 
+
+The terms with graver, quill, or chisel, stated ? 
+
+I freely leave the choice to thee. 
+
+
+70 FA CST. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Why heat thyself, thus instantly, 
+
+With eloquence exaggerated ? 
+
+Each leaf for such a pact is good; 
+
+And to subscribe thy name thou ‘It take a drop of blood. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+If thou therewith art fully satisfied, 
+So let us by the farce abide. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Blood is a juice of rarest quality. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+fear not that I this pact shall seek to sever! 
+The promise that I make to thee 
+
+Is just the sum of my endeavor. 
+
+I have myself inflated all too high ; 
+
+My proper place is thy estate: 
+
+The Mighty Spirit deigns me no reply, 
+And Nature shuts on me her gate. 
+
+The thread of Thought at last is broken, 
+And knowledge brings disgust unspoken. 
+Let us the sensual deeps explore, 
+
+To quench the fervors of glowing passion! 
+Let every marvel take form and fashion 
+Through the impervious veil it wore! 
+Plunge we in Time’s tumultuous dance, 
+
+In the rush and roll of Circumstance ! 
+Then may delight and distress, 
+
+And worry and success, 
+
+Alternately follow, as best they can: 
+Restless activity proves the man! 
+
+
+SCENE IV. 7 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+For you no bound, no term is set. 
+Whether you everywhere be trying, 
+
+Or snatch a rapid bliss in flying, 
+
+May it agree with you, what you get! 
+Only fall to, and show no timid balking. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+But thou hast heard, ’t is not of joy we ’re talking. 
+
+I take the wildering whirl, enjoyment’s keenest pain, 
+Enamored hate, exhilarant disdain. 
+
+My bosom, of its thirst for knowledge sated, 
+
+Shall not, henceforth, from any pang be wrested, 
+And all of life for all mankind created % 
+
+Shall be within mine inmost being tested : 
+
+The highest, lowest forms my soul shall borrow, 
+Shall heap upon itself their bliss and sorrow, 
+
+And thus, my own sole self to all their selves expanded, 
+I too, at last, shall with them all be stranded! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Believe me, who for many a thousand year 
+The same tough meat have chewed and tested, 
+That from the cradle to the bier 
+
+No man the ancient leaven has digested! 
+Trust one of us, this Whole surpernal 
+
+Is made but for a God’s delight! 
+
+fe dwells in splendor single and eternal, 
+
+But ws he thrusts in darkness, out of sight, 
+And you he dowers with Day and Night. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Nay, but I will! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+A good reply! 
+
+
+72 FA OST. 
+
+
+One only fear still needs repeating : 
+
+The art is long, the time is fleeting. 
+
+Then let thyself be taught, say I! 
+
+Go, Jeague thyself with a poet, 
+
+Give the rein to his imagination, 
+
+Then wear the crown, and show it, 
+
+Of the qualities of his creation, — 
+
+The courage of the lion’s breed, 
+
+The wild stag’s speed, 
+
+The Italian’s fiery blood, 
+
+The North’s firm fortitude ! 
+
+Let him find for thee the secret tether 
+That binds the Noble and Mean together, 
+And teach thy pulses of youth and pleasure 
+To love by rule, and hate by measure ! 
+Id like, myself, such a one to see : 
+
+Sir Microcosm his name should be. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+What am I, then, if tis denied my part 
+The crown of all humanity to win me, 
+Whereto yearns every sense within me? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Why, on the whole, thou ’rt — what thou art. 
+
+Set wigs of million curls upon thy head, to raise thee, 
+Wear shoes an ell in height, —the truth veirays thee, 
+And thou remainest — what th.u art. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+I feel, indeed, that I have made the treasure 
+
+Of human thought and knowledge mine, in vain ; 
+And if I now sit down in restful leisure, 
+
+No fount of newer strength is in my brain: 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE IV. 73 
+
+
+I am no hair’s-breadth more in height, 
+Nor nearer to the Infinite. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Good Sir, you see the facts precisely 
+
+As they are seen by each and all. 
+
+We must arrange them now, more wisely, 
+
+Before the joys of life shall pall. 
+
+Why, Zounds! Both hands and feet are, truly — 
+And head and virile forces — thine: 
+
+Yet all that I indulge in newly, 
+
+Is ’t thence less wholly mine ? 
+
+If I ‘ve six stallions in my stall, 
+
+Are not their forces also lent me? 
+
+I speed along, completest man of all, 
+
+As though my legs were four-and-twenty. 
+
+Take hold, then ! let reflection rest, 
+
+And plunge into the world with zest! 
+
+I say to thee, a speculative wight 
+
+Is like a beast on moorlands lean, 
+
+That round and round some fiend misleads to evil plight, 
+While all about lie pastures fresh and green. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Then how shall we begin ? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+We'll try a wider sphere. 
+
+What place of martyrdom is here! 
+Is ’t life, I ask, is °t even prudence, 
+To bore thyself and bore the students ? 
+Let Neighbor Paunch to that attend ! 
+Why plague thyself with threshing straw forever ? 
+The best thou learnest, in the end 
+
+VOL. I. 4 
+
+
+
+
+
+74 FAUST. 
+
+
+Thou dar’st not tell the youngsters — never! 
+I hear one’s footsteps, hither steering. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+To see him now I have no heart. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+So long the poor boy waits a hearing, 
+
+He must not unconsoled depart. 
+
+Thy cap and mantle straightway lend me! 
+I'll play the comedy with art. 
+
+
+(He disguises himself.) 
+
+
+My wits, be certain, will befriend me. 
+
+But fifteen minutes’ time is all I need; 
+
+For our fine trip, meanwhile, prepare thyself with speed { 
+[Ax Fausr 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+(7x Faust’s long mantle.) 
+
+
+Reason and Knowledge only thou despise, 
+
+The highest strength in man that lies! 
+
+Let but the Lying Spirit bind thee 
+
+With magic works and shows that blind thee, 
+
+And I shall have thee fast and sure !@— 
+
+Fate such a bold, untrammelled spirit gave him, 
+
+As forwards, onwards, ever must endure ; 
+
+Whose over-hasty impulse drave him 
+
+Past earthly joys he might secure. 
+
+Dragged through the wildest life, will I enslave him, 
+Through flat and stale indifference ; 
+
+With struggling, chilling, checking, so deprave him 
+That, to his hot, insatiate sense, 
+
+The dream of drink shall mock, but never lave him: 
+
+
+SCENE IV. 75 
+
+
+Refreshment shall his lips in vain implore — 
+
+Had he not made himself the Devil’s, naught could save 
+him, 
+
+Still were he lost forevermore ! 
+
+
+(4 STUDENT enters.) 
+
+
+STUDENT. 
+
+
+A short time, only, am I here, 
+
+And come, devoted and sincere, 
+
+To greet and know the man of fame, 
+Whom men to me with reverence name. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Your courtesy doth flatter me : 
+You see a man, as others be. 
+Have you, perchance, elsewhere begun ? 
+
+
+STUDENT. 
+
+
+Receive me now, I pray, as one 
+
+Who comes to you with courage good, 
+
+Somewhat of cash, and healthy blood : 
+
+My mother was hardly willing to let me ; 
+
+But knowledge worth having I fain would get me. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Then you have reached the right place now. 
+
+
+STUDENT. 
+
+
+I’d like to leave it, I must avow ; 
+
+I find these walls, these vaulted spaces 
+Are anything but pleasant places. 
+
+’T is all so cramped and close and mean; 
+One sees no tree, no glimpse of green, 
+And when the lecture-halls receive me, 
+Seeing, hearing, and thinking leave me. 
+
+
+76 FAUST. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+All that depends on habitude. 
+So from its mother’s breasts a child 
+At first, reluctant, takes its food, 
+But soon to seek them is beguiled. 
+Thus, at the breasts of Wisdom clinging, 
+Thou ‘It find each day a greater rapture bringing. 
+
+
+STUDENT. 
+
+
+I'll hang thereon with joy, and freely drain them; 
+But tell me, pray, the proper means to gain them. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Explain, before you further speak, 
+The special faculty you seek. 
+
+
+STUDENT. 
+I crave the highest erudition ; 
+And fain would make my acquisition 
+All that there is in Earth and Heaven, 
+In Nature and in Science too. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Here is the genuine path for you; 
+Yet strict attention must be given. 
+
+
+STUDENT. 
+Body and soul thereon I ’ll wreak; 
+Yet, truly, I’ve some inclination 
+On summer holidays to seek 
+A little freedom and recreation. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Use well your time! It flies so swiftly from us; 
+But time through order may be won, J promise. 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE IV. 7 
+
+
+So, Friend, (my views to briefly sum,) 
+
+First, the collegium logicum. 
+
+There will your mind be drilled and braced, 
+As if in Spanish boots ’t were laced, 
+
+And thus, to graver paces brought, 
+
+*T will plod along the path of thought, 
+Instead of shooting here and there, 
+
+A will-o’-the-wisp in murky air. 
+
+Days will be spent to bid you know, 
+
+What once you did at a single blow, 
+
+Like eating and drinking, free and strong, — 
+That one, two, three! thereto belong. 
+
+Truly the fabric of mental fleece 
+
+Resembles a weaver’s masterpiece, 
+
+Where a thousand threads one treadle throws, 
+Where fly the shuttles hither and thither, 
+Unseen the threads are knit together, 
+
+And an infinite combination grows. 
+
+Then, the philosopher steps in 
+
+And shows, no otherwise it could have been: 
+The first was so, the second so, 
+
+Therefore the third and fourth are so; 
+
+Were not the first and second, then 
+
+The third and fourth had never been. 
+
+The scholars are everywhere believers, 
+
+But never succeed in being weavers. 
+
+He who would study organic existence, 
+
+First drives out the soul with rigid persistence ; 
+Then the parts in his hand he may hold and class, 
+But the spiritual link is lost, alas! 
+Enchetresin natura, this Chemistry names,” 
+Nor knows how herself she banters and blames! 
+
+
+STUDENT. 
+I cannot understand you quite 
+
+
+“8 FAUST. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Your mind will shortly be set aright, 
+When you have learned, all things reducing, 
+To classify them for your using. 
+
+
+STUDENT. 
+
+
+1 feel as stupid, from all you ’ve said, 
+As if a mill-wheel whirled in my head! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+And after — first and foremost duty — 
+
+Of Metaphysics learn the use and beauty ! 
+See that you most profoundly gain 
+
+What does not suit the human brain! 
+
+A splendid word to serve, you ’l! find 
+
+For what goes in — or won’t go in — your mind. 
+But first, at least this half a year, 
+
+To order rigidly adhere ; 
+
+Five hours a day, you understand, 
+
+And when the clock strikes, be on hand! 
+Prepare beforehand for your part 
+
+With paragraphs all got by heart, 
+
+So you can better watch, and look 
+
+That naught is said but what is in the book: 
+Yet in thy writing as unwearied be, 
+
+As did the Holy Ghost dictate to thee !@ 
+
+
+STUDENT. 
+
+
+No need to tell me twice to do it! 
+
+I think, how useful ’t is to write; 
+
+For what one has, in black and white, 
+
+One carries home and then goes through it. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Yet choose thyself a faculty ! 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE IV. 719 
+
+
+STUDENT. 
+I cannot reconcile myself to Jurisprudence. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Nor can I therefore greatly blame you students: 
+I know what science this has come to be. 
+
+All rights and laws are still transmitted 
+
+Like an eternal sickness of the race, — 
+
+From generation unto generation fitted, 
+
+And shifted round from place to place. 
+
+Reason becomes a sham, Beneficence a worry: 
+Thou art a grandchild, therefore woe to thee! 
+The right born with us, ours in verity, 
+
+This to consider, there’s, alas! no hurry. 
+
+
+STUDENT. 
+
+
+My own disgust is strengthened by your speech * 
+O lucky he, whom you shall teach! 
+I’ve almost for Theology decided. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+I should not wish to see you here misguided: 
+
+For, as regards this science, let me hint 
+
+T is very hard to shun the false direction ; 
+
+There ’s so much secret poison lurking in ’t, 
+
+So like the medicine, it baffles your detection. 
+Hear, therefore, one alone, for that is best, in sooth, 
+And simply take your master’s words for truth. 
+
+On words \et your attention centre !% 
+
+Then through the safest gate you ’ll enter 
+
+The temple-halls of Certainty. 
+
+
+STUDENT. 
+Yet in the word must some idea be. 
+
+
+
+
+
+80 FAUST. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Of course! But only shun too over-sharp a tension, 
+For just where fails the comprehension, 
+
+A word steps promptly in as deputy. 
+
+With words ’t is excellent disputing ; 
+
+Systems to words ’t is easy suiting ; 
+
+On words ’t is excellent believing ; 
+
+No word can ever lose a jot from thieving. 
+
+
+STUDENT. 
+
+
+Pardon! With many questions I detain you, 
+Yet must I trouble you again. 
+
+Of Medicine I still would fain 
+
+Hear one strong word that might explain you. 
+Three years is but a little space, 
+
+And, God! who can the field embrace ? 
+Ifone some index could be shown, 
+
+"T were easier groping forward, truly. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (aside), 
+
+
+I’m tired enough of this dry tone, — 
+Must play the Devil again, and fully. 
+( Aloud.) 
+To grasp the spirit of Medicine is easy: 
+Learn of the great and little world your fill, 
+To let it go at last, so please ye, 
+Just as God will! 
+In vain that through the realms of science you may drift; 
+Each one learns only — just what learn he can: 
+Yet he who grasps the Moment’s gift, 
+He is the proper man. 
+Well-made you are, ’t is not to be denied, 
+The rest a bold address will win you ; 
+If you but in yourself confide, 
+At once confide all others in you. 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE IV. 81 
+
+
+To lead the women, learn the special feeling ! 
+Their everlasting aches and groans, 
+
+In thousand tones, 
+
+Have all one source, one mode of healing ; 
+And if your acts are half discreet, 
+
+You ’ll always have them at your feet. 
+
+A title first must draw and interest them, 
+And show that yours all other arts exceeds ; 
+Then, as a greeting, you are free to touch and test them, 
+While, thus to do, for years another pleads. 
+You press and count the pulse’s dances, 
+
+And then, with burning sidelong glances, 
+You clasp the swelling hips, to see 
+
+If tightly laced her corsets be. 
+
+
+STUDENT. 
+That ’s better, now! The How and Where, one sees. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+My worthy friend, gray are all theories, 
+And green alone Life’s golden tree. 
+
+
+STUDENT. 
+
+
+J swear to you, ’tis like a dream to me. 
+Might I again presume, with trust unbounded, 
+To hear your wisdom thoroughly expounded ? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Most willingly, to what extent I may. 
+
+
+STUDENT. 
+I cannot really go away: 
+Allow me that my album first I reach you, — 
+Grant me this favor, I beseech you! 
+4* 
+
+
+
+
+
+82 FAUST. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Assuredly. 
+
+
+(He writes, and returns the book.) 
+
+
+STUDENT (reads). 
+Eritis sicut Dews, scientes bonuim et malum. 
+
+
+( Closes the book with reverence, and withdraws.) 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Follow the ancient text, and the snake thou wast ordered 
+to trample! 
+With all thy likeness to God, thou It yet be a sorry 
+
+
+example ! 
+(Faust enters.) 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Now, whither shall we go? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+As best it pleases thee. 
+The little world, and then the great, we ’ll see.” 
+With what delight, what profit winning, 
+Shalt thou sponge through the term beginning! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Yet with the flowing beard I wear, 
+Both ease and grace will fail me there. 
+The attempt, indeed, were a futile strife ; 
+I never could learn the ways of life. 
+I feel so small before others, and thence 
+Should always find embarrassments.”* 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+My friend, thou soon shalt lose all such misgiving: 
+Be thou but self-possessed, thou hast the art of living! 
+
+
+SCENE IV. 83 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+How shall we leave the house, and start? 
+Where hast thou servant, coach and horses ? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+We ’ll spread this cloak with proper art, 
+Then through the air direct our courses. 
+But only, on so bold a flight, 
+Be sure to have thy luggage light. 
+A little burning air, which I shall soon prepare us, 
+Above the earth will nimbly bear us, 
+And, if we’re light, we ’ll travel swift and clear: 
+I gratulate thee on thy new career!” 
+
+
+84 FAUST. 
+
+
+V. 
+
+
+AUERBACH’S CELLAR IN LEIPZIG. 
+CAROUSAL OF JOLLY COMPANIONS. 
+
+
+FROSCH. | 
+| fie no one laughing? no one drinking? 
+I'll teach you how to grin, I’m thinking. 
+To-day you ’re like wet straw, so tame; 
+And usually you ’re all aflame. 
+
+
+BRANDER. 
+
+
+Now that’s your fault; from you we nothing see, 
+No beastliness and no stupidity. 
+
+
+FROSCH. 
+(Pours a glass of wine over BRANDER’S head.) 
+There ’s both together! 
+
+
+BRANDER. 
+Twice a swine! 
+
+
+FROSCH. 
+You wanted them: I’ve given you mine. 
+
+
+SIEBEL. 
+
+
+Turn out who quarrels — out the door! 
+With open throat sing chorus, drink and roar! 
+Up! holla! ho! 
+
+
+SCENE V. 8s 
+
+
+ALTMAYER. 
+
+
+Woe’s me, the fearful bellow! 
+Bring cotton, quick! He’s split my ears, that fellow. 
+
+
+SIEBEL. 
+When the vault echoes to the song, 
+One first perceives the bass is deep and strong. 
+
+
+FROSCH. 
+
+
+Well said ! and out with him that takes the least offence! 
+Ah, tara, lara, da! 
+
+
+ALTMAYER. 
+Ah, tara, lara, da! 
+
+
+FROSCH. 
+The throats are tuned, commence ! 
+
+
+(Sirgs.) 
+The dear old holy Roman realm, 
+How does it hold together ? 
+
+
+BRANDER. 
+A nasty song! Fie! a political song74— 
+A most offensive song! Thank God, each morning, 
+therefore, 
+That you have not the Roman realm to care for! 
+At least, J hold it so much gain for me, 
+That I nor Chancellor nor Kaiser be. 
+Yet also we must have a ruling head, I hope, 
+And so we'll choose ourselves a Pope. 
+You know the quality that can 
+Decide the choice, and elevate the man. 
+
+
+FROSCH (sings). 
+
+
+Soar up, soar up, Dame Nightingale /7s 
+Ten thousand times my sweetheart hail / 
+
+
+86 FAUST. 
+
+
+SIEBEL. 
+No, greet my sweetheart not! I tell you, I'll resent it. 
+
+
+FROSCH. 
+My sweetheart greet and kiss! I dare you to prevent it! 
+
+
+(Simgs.) 
+Draw the latch / the darkness makes: 
+Draw the latch! the lover wakes. 
+Shut the latch! the morning breaks. 
+
+
+SIEBEL. 
+Yes, sing away, sing on, and praise, and brag of her! 
+I’ll wait my proper time for laughter : 
+Me by the nose she lead, and now she ’ll lead you after. 
+Her paramour should be an ugly gnome, 
+Where four roads cross, in wanton play to meet her: 
+An old he-goat, from Blocksberg coming home, 
+Should his good-night in lustful gallop bleat her! 
+A fellow made of genuine flesh and blood 
+Is for the wench a deal too good. 
+Greet her? NotI: unless, when meeting, 
+To smash her windows be a greeting! 
+
+
+BRANDER (founding on the table), 
+
+
+Attention! Hearken now to me! 
+
+Confess, Sirs, I know how to live. 
+
+Enamored persons here have we, 
+
+And J, as suits their quality, 
+
+Must something fresh for their advantage give. 
+Take heed! ’T is of the latest cut, my strain, 
+And all strike in at each refrain ! 
+
+
+(He sings.) 
+There was a rat in the cellar-nest, * 
+Whom fat and butter made smoother: 
+
+
+SCENE V. 87 
+
+
+He had a paunch beneath his vest 
+Like that of Doctor Luther. 
+
+The cook laid poison cunningly, 
+And then as sore oppressed was he 
+As if he had love in his bosom. 
+
+
+CHORUS (shouting). 
+As if he had love in his bosom! 
+
+
+BRANDER. 
+He ran around, he ran about, 
+His thirst in puddles laving ; 
+He gnawed and scratched the house throughout, 
+But nothing cured his raving. 
+He whirled and jumped, with torment mad, 
+And soon enough the poor beast had, 
+As if he had love in his bosom. 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+As if he had love in his bosom ! 
+
+
+BRANDER. 
+And driven at last, in open day, 
+He ran into the kitchen, 
+Fell on the hearth, and squirming lay, 
+In the last convulsion twitching. 
+Then laughed the murderess in her glee: 
+“Ha! ha! he’s at his last gasp,” said she, 
+“ As if he had love in his bosom!” 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+As if he had love in his bosom! 
+
+
+SIEBEL. 
+How the dull fools enjoy the matter’ 
+To me it is a proper art 
+Poison for such poor rats to scatter. 
+
+
+88 FAUST. 
+
+
+BRANDER. 
+Perhaps you ’ll warmly take their part? 
+
+
+ALTMAYER. 
+The bald-pate pot-belly I have noted: 
+Misfortune tames him by degrees ; 
+For in the rat by poison bloated 
+His own most natural form he sees. 
+
+
+FAUST AND MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Before all else, I bring thee hither 
+Where boon companions meet together, 
+To let thee see how smooth life runs away. 
+Here, for the folk, each day ’s a holiday: 
+With little wit, and ease to suit them, 
+They whirl in narrow, circling trails, 
+Like kittens playing with their tails ; 
+And if no headache persecute them, 
+So long the host may credit give, 
+They merrily and careless live. 
+
+
+BRANDER. 
+
+
+The fact is easy to unravel, 
+Their air’s so odd, they ’ve just returned from travel: 
+A single hour they ’ve not been here. 
+
+
+FROSCH. 
+
+
+You ’ve verily hit the truth! Leipzig to me is dear: 
+Paris in miniature, how it refines its people !77 
+
+
+SIEBEL. 
+Who are the strangers, should you guess? 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE V. 89 
+
+
+FROSCH. 
+
+
+Let me alone! Ill set them first to drinking, 
+
+And then, as one a child’s tooth draws, with cleverness, 
+I’ll worm their secret out, | ’m thinking. 
+
+They ’re of a noble house, that ’s very clear: 
+
+Haughty and discontented they appear. 
+
+
+BRANDER. 
+They ’re mountebanks, upon a revel. 
+
+
+ALTMAYER. 
+Perhaps. 
+
+
+FROSCH. 
+Look out, I ’ll smoke them now! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (fo Faust). 
+
+
+Not if he had them by the neck, I vow, 
+Would e’er these people scent the Devil! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Fair greeting, gentlemen! 
+
+
+SIEBEL. 
+Our thanks: we give the same. 
+
+
+(Murmurs, inspecting MEPHISTOPHELES from the side.) 
+
+
+In one foot is the fellow lame? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Is it permitted that we share your leisure ? 
+In place of cheering drink, which one seeks vainly here, 
+Your company shall give us pleasure. 
+
+
+ALTMAYER. 
+A most fastidious person you appear. 
+
+
+
+
+
+g0 FAUST. 
+
+
+FROSCH. 
+
+
+No doubt ’t was late when you from Rippach started ?* 
+And supping there with Hans occasioned your delay ? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES, 
+
+
+We passed, without a call, to-day. 
+
+At our last interview, before we parted 
+
+Much of his cousins did he speak, entreating 
+That we should give to each his kindly greeting. 
+
+
+(He bows to FROSCH.) 
+
+
+ALTMAYER (aside). 
+You have it now! he understands. 
+
+
+SIEBEL. 
+A knave sharp-set! 
+
+
+FROSCH. 
+Just wait awhile: I Il have him yet. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+If I am right, we heard the sound 
+
+Of well-trained voices, singing chorus; 
+And truly, song must here rebound 
+Superbly from the arches o’er us. 
+
+
+FROSCH. 
+Are you, perhaps, a virtuoso? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+O no! my wish is great, my power is only so-so. 
+
+
+ALTMAYER. 
+Give us a song! 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE V. 91 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+If you desire, a number. 
+
+
+SIEBEL. 
+So that it be a bran-new strain! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+We ’ve just retraced our way from Spain, 
+The lovely land of wine, and song, and slumber. 
+
+
+(Séngs.) 
+
+
+There was a king once reigning,” 
+Who had a big black flea — 
+
+
+FROSCH. 
+
+
+Hear, hear! A flea! D’ ye rightly take the jest? 
+I call a flea a tidy guest. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (sings). 
+
+
+There was a king once reigning, 
+Who had a big black flea, 
+
+And loved him past explaining, 
+
+As his own son were he. 
+
+He called his man of stitches ; 
+
+The tailor came straightway : 
+
+Here, measure the lad for breeches, 
+And measure his coat, I say! 
+
+
+BRANDER. 
+
+
+But mind, allow the tailor no caprices: 
+Enjoin upon him, as his head is dear, 
+To most exactly measure, sew and shear, 
+So that the breeches have no creases! 
+
+
+g2 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+In silk and velvet gleaming 
+He now was wholly drest — 
+Had a coat with ribbons streaming, 
+
+
+_ Across upon his breast. 
+
+
+He had the first of stations, 
+A minister’s star and name; 
+And also all his relations 
+Great lords at court became. 
+
+
+And the lords and ladies of honor 
+Were plagued, awake and in bed ; 
+The queen she got them upon her, 
+The maids were bitten and bled. 
+And they did not dare to brush them, 
+Or scratch them, day or night: 
+
+We crack them and we crush them, 
+At once, whene’er they bite. 
+
+
+CHORUS (shouting). 
+
+
+We crack them and we crush them, 
+At once, whene’er they bite ! 
+
+
+FROSCH. 
+
+
+Bravo! bravo! that was fine. 
+
+
+SIEBEL. 
+
+
+Every flea may it so befall! 
+
+
+BRANDER. 
+
+
+Point your fingers and nip them all! 
+
+
+ALTMAYER. 
+
+
+Hurrah for Freedom! Hurrah for wine! 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE V. 93 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+I fain would drink with you, my glass to Freedom 
+clinking, 
+If ’t were a better wine that here I see you drinking. 
+SIEBEL. 
+Don’t let us hear that speech again! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Did I not fear the landlord might complain, 
+Id treat these worthy guests, with pleasure, 
+To some from out our cellar’s treasure. 
+
+
+SIEBEL. 
+Just treat, and let the landlord me arraign ! 
+
+
+FROSCH. 
+
+
+And if the wine be good, our praises shall be ample. 
+But do not give too very small a sample ; 
+
+For, if its quality I decide, 
+
+With a good mouthful I must be supplied. 
+
+
+ALTMAYER (aside). 
+They ’re from the Rhine! I guessed as much, before. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Bring me a gimlet here! 
+
+
+BRANDER. 
+
+
+What shall therewith be done? 
+You ’ve not the casks already at the door? 
+
+
+ALTMAYER. 
+
+
+Yonder, within the landlord’s box of tools, there ’s 
+one ! 
+
+
+94 FAUST. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (éakes the gimict). 
+(Zo FROSCH.) 
+Now, give me of your taste some intimation. 
+
+
+FROSCH. 
+How do you mean? Have you so many kinds ? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+The choice is free: make up your minds. 
+
+
+ALTMAYER (fo FRoSCH). 
+Aha! you lick your chops, from sheer anticipation. 
+
+
+FROSCH. 
+Good! if I have the choice, so let the wine be 
+
+
+Rhenish ! 
+Our Fatherland can best the sparkling cup replenish. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES 
+
+
+(boring a hole in the edge of the table, at the place where 
+FROSCH s#és). 
+
+
+Get me a little wax, to make the stoppers, quick! 
+
+
+ALTMAYER. 
+Ah! I perceive a juggler’s trick. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (fo BRANDER). 
+And you? 
+
+
+BRANDER. 
+
+
+Champagne shall be my wine. 
+And let it sparkle fresh and fine! 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE V. 95 
+MEPHISTOPHELES 
+foores: in the mean time one has made the wax stoppers, and 
+plugged the holes with them). 
+BRANDER. 
+
+
+What ’s foreign one can’t always keep quite clear of, 
+For good things, oft, are not so near; 
+
+A German can’t endure the French to see or hear of,® 
+Yet drinks their wines with hearty cheer. 
+
+
+SIEBEL 
+(as MEPHISTOPHELES approaches his seat). 
+
+
+For me, I grant, sour wine is out of place; 
+Fill up my glass with sweetest, will you? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (boring). 
+Tokay shall flow at once, to fill you! 
+
+
+ALTMAYER. 
+
+
+No—look me, Sirs, straight in the face! 
+I see you have your fun at our expense. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES, 
+
+
+O no! with gentlemen of such pretence, 
+That were to venture far, indeed. 
+
+Speak out, and make your choice with speed! 
+With what a vintage can I serve you? 
+
+
+ALTMAYER. 
+With any —only satisfy our need. 
+
+
+(After the holes have been bored and plugged.) 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES 
+(with singular gestures). 
+Grapes the vine-stem bears, 
+
+Horns the he-goat wears ! 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+96 FAUST. 
+
+
+The grapes are juicy, the vines are wood, 
+The wooden table gives wine as good ! 
+Into the depths of Nature peer, — 
+
+Only believe, there ’s a miracle here! 
+
+
+Now draw the stoppers, and drink your fill! ® 
+
+
+ALL 
+
+
+las they draw out the stoppers, and the wine which has been 
+desired flows into the glass of each). 
+
+
+O beautiful fountain, that flows at will! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+But have a care, that you nothing spill! 
+( They drink repeatedly.) 
+
+
+ALL (sing). 
+As ’t were five hundred hogs, we feel 
+So cannibalic jolly! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+See, now, the race is happy — it is free! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+To leave them is my inclination. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Take notice, first! their bestiality 
+Will make a brilliant demonstration. 
+
+
+SIEBEL 
+\drinks carelessly: the wine spills upon the earth, and turns te 
+flame). 
+Help! Fire! Help! Hell-fire is sent! 
+
+
+SCENE V. 97 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES 
+(charming away the flame). 
+Be quiet, friendly element! 
+( Zo the revellers.) 
+A bit of purgatory ’t was for this time, merely. 
+
+
+SIEBEL. 
+What mean you? Wait!— you ’Il pay for ’t dearly! 
+You ’ll know us, to your detriment. 
+
+FROSCH. 
+Don’t try that game a second time upon us! 
+
+
+ALTMAYER. 
+I think we ’d better send him packing quietly. 
+
+
+SIEBEL,. 
+
+
+What, Sir! you dare to make so free, 
+And play your hocus-pocus on us! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Be still, old wine-tub. 
+SIEBEL. 
+Broomstick, you! 
+You face it out, impertinent and heady? 
+BRANDER. 
+Just wait! a shower of blows is ready. 
+
+
+ALTMAYER 
+(draws a stopper out of the table: fire fltes in his face). 
+Iburn! 1 burn! 
+SIEBEL. 
+*T is magic! Strike— 
+
+The knave is outlawed! Cut him as you like! 
+( They draw their knives, and rush upon MEPHISTOPHELES.) 
+
+VOL. 1. 5 : 
+
+
+98 FAUST. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES 
+(with solemn gestures). 
+
+
+False word and form of air, 
+Change place, and sense ensnare! ™ 
+Be here — and there! 
+
+
+(Zhey stand amased and look at each other.) 
+
+
+ALTMAYER. 
+Where am I? What a lovely land! 
+
+
+FROSCH. 
+Vines? Can I trust my eyes? 
+
+
+SIEBEL. 
+And purple grapes ar hand! 
+
+
+BRANDER. 
+Here, over this green arbor bending, 
+See, what a vine ! what grapes depending! 
+
+
+(He takes SIEBEL by the nose: the others do the came rtcipro- 
+cally, and raise their knives.) 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (as above). 
+Loose, Error, from their eyes the band, 
+And how the Devil jests, be now enlightened ! 
+
+
+(He disappears with FAUST: the revellers start and separate.) 
+
+
+SIEBEL. 
+What happened ? 
+ALTMAYER. 
+How? 
+
+
+FROSCH. 
+Was that your nose I tightened? 
+
+
+SCENE V. 99 
+
+
+BRANDER (/o SIEBEL). 
+And yours that still I have in hand? 
+
+
+ALTMAYER. 
+It was a blow that went through every limb! 
+Give me a chair! I sink! my senses swim. 
+FROSCH. . 
+But what has happened, tell me now? 
+
+
+SIEBEL. 
+
+Where is he? If I catch the scoundrel hiding, 
+He shall not leave alive, I vow. 
+
+ALTMAYER. 
+I saw him with these eyes upon a wine-cask riding 
+Out of the cellar-door, just now. 
+Still in my feet the fright like lead is weighing. 
+
+(He turns towards the table ) 
+
+Why! If the fount of wine should still be playing ? 
+
+
+SIEBEL. 
+*T was all deceit, and lying, false design ! 
+FROSCH. 
+
+
+And yet it seemed as I were drinking wine. 
+
+
+BRANDER. 
+But with the grapes how was it, pray ? 
+
+
+ALTMAYER. 
+Shall one believe no miracles, just say ! 
+
+
+100 FAUST. 
+
+
+VI. 
+
+
+WITCHES’ KITCHEN.'s 
+
+
+[Upon a low hearth stands a great caldron, under which a five 
+ts burning. Various figures appear in the vapors which 
+vise from the caldron. An ape sits beside it, skims tt, and 
+watches lest it boil over. The he-ape, with the young ones, 
+sits near and warms himself. Ceiling and walls are covercd 
+with the most fantastic witch-implements.| 
+
+
+FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+6b ecto crazy signs of witches’ craft repel me! 
+I shall recover, dost thou tell me, 
+
+Through this insane, chaotic play? 
+
+From an old hag shall I demand assistance ? 
+
+And will her foul mess take away 
+
+Full thirty years from my existence ? ® 
+
+Woe’s me, canst thou naught better find! 
+Another baffled hope must be lamented : 
+
+Has Nature, then, and has a noble mind 
+
+Not any potent balsam yet invented? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Once more, my friend, thou talkest sensibly. 
+There is, to make thee young, a simpler mode and apter; 
+But in another book ’t is writ for thee, 
+And is a most eccentric chapter. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Yet will I know it. 
+
+
+SCENE VI. roi 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Good! the method is revealed 
+Without or gold or magic or physician. 
+Betake thyself to yonder field, 
+There hoe and dig, as thy condition ; 
+Restrain thyself, thy sense and will 
+Within a narrow sphere to flourish ; 
+With unmixed food thy body nourish ; 
+Live with the ox as ox, and think it not a theft 
+That thou manur’st the acre which thou reapest ; — 
+That, trust me, is the best mode left, 
+Whereby for eighty years thy youth thou keepest ! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+I am not used to that; I cannot stoop to try it — 
+To take the spade in hand, and ply it. 
+The narrow being suits me not at all. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Then to thine aid the witch must call, 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Wherefore the hag, and her alone? 
+Canst thou thyself not brew the potion? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+That were a charming sport, I own: 
+
+I’d build a thousand bridges meanwhile, I’ve a notion, 
+Not Art and Science serve, alone ; 
+
+Patience must in the work be shown. 
+
+Long is the calm brain active in creation ; 
+
+Time, only, strengthens the fine fermentation. 
+
+And all, belonging thereunto, 
+
+Is rare and strange, howe’er you take it. 
+
+The Devil taught the thing, ’t is true, 
+
+And yet the Devil cannot make it. 
+
+
+102 FAUST. 
+
+
+( Perceiving the Animals.) 
+See, what a delicate race they be! 
+That is the maid! the man is he! 
+
+
+(Zo the Animals.) 
+It seems the mistress has gone away? 
+
+
+THE ANIMALS. 
+
+
+Carousing, to-day ! 
+Off and about, 
+By the chimney out! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+What time takes she for dissipating ? 
+
+
+THE ANIMALS. 
+While we to warm our paws are waiting. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (fo FAUST). 
+How findest thou the tender creatures ? 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Absurder than I ever yet did see. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Why, just such talk as this, for me, 
+Is that which has the most attractive features ! 
+
+
+(Zo the Animals.) 
+But tell me now, ye curséd puppets, 
+Why do ye stir the porridge so? 
+THE ANIMALS. 
+We're cooking watery soup for beggars.®s 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Then a great public you can show. 
+
+
+SCENE VI. 103 
+
+
+THE HE-APE ; 
+(comes up and fawns on MEPHISTOPHELES). 
+
+
+O cast thou the dice! 
+
+Make me rich in a trice, 
+Let me win in good season! 
+Things are badly controlled, 
+And had I but gold, 
+
+So had I my reason. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+How would the ape be sure his luck enhances, 
+Could he but try the lottery’s chances ! 
+(7 the mean time the young apes have been playing witn a 
+large ball, which they now roll forward.) 
+
+
+THE HE-APE. 
+
+
+The world ’s the ball: 
+Doth rise and fall, 
+And roll incessant : 
+Like glass doth ring, 
+A hollow thing, — 
+How soon will ’t spring, 
+And drop, quiescent? 
+Here bright it gleams, 
+Here brighter seems: 
+I live at present! 
+Dear son, I say, 
+Keep thou away ! 
+Thy doom is spoken ! 
+T is made of clay, 
+And will be broken. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+‘What means the sieve ? 
+
+
+104 FAUST. 
+
+
+THE HE-APE (taking tt down). 
+Wert thou the thief,™ 
+I’d know him and shame him. 
+
+
+(He runs to the SHE-APE, and lets her look through it.) 
+Look through the sieve! 
+
+
+Know’st thou the thief, 
+And darest not name him ? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (approaching the fire). 
+And what ’s this pot? 
+
+
+HE-APE AND SHE-APE. 
+The fool knows it not! 
+He knows not the pot, 
+He knows not the kettle ! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Impertinent beast ! 
+
+
+THE HE-APE. 
+Take the brush here, at least, 
+And sit down on the settle! 
+(He invites MEPHISTOPHELES /o sit down.) 
+
+
+FAUST 
+
+
+(who during all this time has been standing before a mirror, now 
+approaching and now retreating from it). 
+
+What do I see? What heavenly form revealed ® 
+
+Shows through the glass from Magic’s fair dominions ! 
+
+O lend me, Love, the swiftest of thy pinions, 
+
+And bear me to her bequteous field ! 
+
+Ah, if I leave this spot with fond designing, 
+
+If I attempt to venture near, 
+
+Dim, as through gathering mist, her charms appear ! — 
+
+
+SCENE VI. 105 
+
+
+A woman’s form, in beauty shining! 
+
+Can woman, then, so lovely be? 
+
+And must I find her body, there reclining, 
+Of all the heavens the bright epitome ? 
+Can Earth with such a thing be mated? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Why, surely, if a God first plagues Himself six days, 
+Then, self-contented, Bravo / says, 
+Must something clever be created. 
+This time, thine eyes be satiate! 
+I'll yet detect thy sweetheart and ensnare her, 
+And blest is he, who has the lucky fate, 
+Some day, as bridegroom, home to bear her. 
+
+(FAUST guses continually in the mirror. MEPHISTOPHELES, 
+stretching himself out on the settle, and playing with the brush, 
+continues to speak.) 
+
+So sit 1, like the King upon his throne: 
+I hold the sceptre, here, — and lack the crown alone. 
+
+
+THE ANIMALS 
+(who up to this time have been making all kinds of fantastic 
+movements together, bring a crown to MEPHISTOPHELFS 
+with great noise). 
+O be thou so good 
+With sweat and with blood 
+The crown to belime ! 
+(They handle the crown awkwardly and break it into two 
+pieces, with which they spring around.) 
+*T is done, let it be! 
+We speak and we see, 
+We hear and we rhyme! ® 
+
+
+FAUST (before the mirror). 
+
+
+Woe ’s me! I fear to lose my wits. 
+5 * 
+
+
+106 FAUST. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (fotnting to the Animals). 
+My own head, now, is really nigh to sinking. 
+
+
+THE ANIMALS. 
+
+
+If lucky our hits, 
+And everything fits, 
+’T is thoughts, and we ’re thinking! 
+
+
+FAUST (as above). 
+
+
+My bosom burns with that sweet vision ; 
+Let us, with speed, away from here! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (i the same attitude). 
+
+
+One must, at least, make this admission — 
+
+They ’re poets, genuine and sincere. 
+
+( Zhe caldvron, which the SHEZAPE has up to this time neglected 
+to watch, begins to boil over: there ensues a great flame, 
+which blazes out the chimney. The WITCH comes careering 
+down through the flame, with terrible cries.) 
+
+
+THE WITCH. 
+
+
+Ow! ow! ow! ow! 
+
+The damnéd beast — the curséd sow! 
+To leave the kettle, and singe the Frau! 
+Accurséd fere ! 
+
+
+( Perceiving FAUST and MEPHISTOPHELES. ) 
+
+
+What is that here ? 
+
+Who are you here? 
+
+What want you thus? 
+
+Who sneaks to us? 
+
+The fire-pain 
+
+Burn bone and brain! 
+
+(She plunges the skimming-ladle into the caldron, and scatters 
+
+flames towards FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, and the Ani- 
+mals. The Animals whimper.) 
+
+
+SCENE VI. 107 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES 
+Iveversing the brush, which he has been holding in his hand, 
+and striking among the jars and glasses). 
+In two! in two! 
+There lies the brew! 
+There lies the glass! 
+The joke will pass, 
+As time, foul ass ! 
+To the singing of thy crew. 
+
+
+(4s the WITCH starts back, full of wrath and horror :) 
+
+
+Ha! know’st thou me? Abomination, thou! 
+Know’st thou, at last, thy Lord and Master? 
+What hinders me from smiting now 
+
+Thee and thy monkey-sprites with fell disaster? 
+Hast for the scarlet coat no reverence? 
+
+Dost recognize no more the tall cock’s-feather ? 
+Have I concealed this countenance ? — 
+
+Must tell my name, old face of leather? 
+
+
+THE WITCH. 
+O pardon, Sir, the rough salute ! 
+Yet I perceive no cloven foot ; 
+And both your ravens, where are ¢hey now? 
+
+
+. MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+This time, I ’li let thee scape the debt; 
+
+For since we two together met, 
+
+'T is verily full many a day now. 
+
+Culture, which smooth the whole world licks, 
+
+Also unto the Devil sticks. 
+
+The days of that old Northern phantom now are over: 
+Where canst thou horns and tail and claws discover? 
+And, as regards the foot, which I can’t spare, in truth, 
+'T would only make the people shun me; 
+
+
+108 FAUST. 
+
+
+Therefore I ’ve worn, like many a spindly youth, 
+Falge calves these many years upon me. 
+
+
+THE WITCH (dancing). 
+Reason and sense forsake my brain, 
+Since I behold Squire Satan here again! 
+
+
+_ MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Woman, from such a name refrain! 
+
+
+THE WITCH. 
+Why so? What has it done to thee? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+It’s long been written in the Book of Fable; ® 
+Yet, therefore, no whit better men we see: 
+
+The Evil One has left, the evil ones are stable. 
+Sir Baron call me thou, then is the matter good; 
+A cavalier am I, like others in my bearing. 
+Thou hast no doubt about my noble blood : 
+
+See, here ’s the coat-of-arms that I am wearing! 
+
+
+(He makes an indecent gesture.) 
+
+
+THE WITCH (laughs immoderately). 
+
+
+Ha! ha! That’s just your way, I know: 
+A rogue you are, and you were always so. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (¢o FAUST). 
+My friend, take proper heed, I pray ! 
+To manage witches, this is just the way. 
+THE WITCH. 
+Wherein, Sirs, can I be of use? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Give us a goblet of the well-known juice! 
+
+
+SCENE VI. 109 
+
+
+But, I must beg you, of the oldest brewage ; 
+The years a double strength produce. 
+
+
+THE WITCH. 
+With all my heart! Now, here’s a bottle, 
+Wherefrom, sometimes, I wet my throttle, 
+Which, also, not the slightest, stinks ; 
+And willingly a glass I'll fill him. 
+
+( Whispering.) 
+
+Yet, if this man without due preparation drinks, 
+As well thou know’st, within an hour ’t will kill him. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+He is a friend of mine, with whom it will agree, 
+And he deserves thy kitchen’s best potation : 
+Come, draw thy circle, speak thine adjuration, 
+And fill thy goblet full and free! 
+
+
+THE WITCH 
+
+
+(uth fantastic gestures draws a circleand places mysterious ar- 
+
+
+ticles therein ; meanwhile the glasses begin to ring, the caldron 
+to sound, and make a musical accompaniment. Finally she 
+brings a great book, and stations in the circle the Apes, who 
+are obliged to serve as reading-desk, and to hold the torches. 
+She then beckons Faust to approach). 
+
+
+FAUST (to MEPHISTOPHELES). 
+Now, what shall come of this? the creatures antic, 
+The crazy stuff, the gestures frantic, — 
+All the repulsive cheats I view, — 
+Are known to me, and hated, too. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+O, nonsense! That’s a thing for laughter ; 
+Don’t be so terribly severe ! ) 
+
+
+
+
+
+110 . FAUST: 
+
+
+She juggles you as doctor now, that, after, 
+The beverage may work the proper cheer. 
+
+
+(He persuades FAUST to step into the circle.) 
+
+
+THE WITCH 
+(begins to declaim, with much emphasis, from the book). 
+See, thus it’s done! 
+Make ten of one, 
+And two let be, 
+Make even three, 
+And rich thou ’lt be. 
+Cast o’er the four! 
+From five and six 
+(The witch’s tricks) 
+Make seven and eight, 
+’T is finished straight! 
+And nine is one, 
+And ten is none. 
+This is the witch’s once-one’s-one |? 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+She talks like one who raves in fever. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Thou ’It hear much more before we leave her. 
+*T is all the same: the book I can repeat, 
+Such time I ’ve squandered o’er the history : 
+A contradiction thus complete * 
+
+Is always for the wise, no less than fools, a mystery. 
+The art is old and new, for verily 
+
+All ages have been taught the matter, — 
+
+By Three and One, and One and Three, 
+Error instead of Truth to scatter. 
+
+They prate and teach, and no one interferes ; 
+All from the fellowship of fools are shrinking. 
+
+
+SCENE V1. 1uy 
+
+
+Man usually believes, if only words he hears, 
+That also with them goes material for thinking! 
+
+
+THE WITCH (continues), 
+The lofty skill 
+Of Science, still 
+From all men deeply hidden! 
+Who takes no thought, 
+To him ’tis brought, 
+’T is given unsought, unbidden ! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+What nonsense she declaims before us! 
+My head is nigh to split, I fear: 
+
+It seems to me as if I hear 
+
+A hundred thousand fools in chorus. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+O Sibyl excellent, enough of adjuration ! 
+But hither bring us thy potation, 
+And quickly fill the beaker to the brim! 
+This drink will bring my friend no injuries : 
+He is a man of manifold degrees, 
+And many draughts are known to him. 
+(Zhe WITCH, with many ceremonies, pours the drink into a 
+cup; as FAUST sets it to his lips, a light flame arises.) 
+Down with it quickly! Drain it off! 
+*T will warm thy heart with new desire: 
+Art with the Devil hand and glove, 
+And wilt thou be afraid of fire ? 
+
+
+(Zhe W1iTCH breaks the circle: Faust steps forth.) 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES, 
+And now, away! Thou dar’st not rest. 
+
+
+¥I2 FAUST. 
+
+
+THE WITCH. 
+And much good may the liquor do thee! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (fo the WITCH). 
+
+
+Thy wish be on Walpurgis Night expressed ; 
+What boon I have, shall then be given unto thee. 
+
+
+THE WITCH. 
+
+
+Here is a song, which, if you sometimes sing, 
+You’ll find it of peculiar operation. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (to Faust). 
+Come, walk at once! A rapid occupation 
+Must start the needful perspiration, 
+And through thy frame the liquor’s potence fling. 
+The noble indolence 1 ’ll teach thee then to treasure,* 
+Andsoon thou ’It be aware, with keenest thrills of pleasure, 
+How Cupid stirs and leaps, on light and restless wing. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+One rapid glance within the mirror give me, 
+How beautiful that woman-form ! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+No, no! The paragon of all, believe me, 
+Thou soon shalt see, alive and warm. 
+(Aside.) 
+Thou It find, this drink thy blood compelling, 
+Each woman beautiful as Helen! 
+
+
+SCENE VII. 113 
+
+
+VII. 
+
+
+A STREET. 
+FAUST. MARGARET ( assing by). 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+AIR lady, let it not offend you, 
+That arm and escort I would lend you! 
+
+
+MARGARET.93 
+
+
+I’m neither lady, neither fair, 
+And home I can go without your care. 
+
+
+[She releases herself, and ext. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+By Heaven, the girl is wondrous fair! 
+
+Of all I ’ve seen, beyond compare; 
+
+So sweetly virtuous and pure, 
+
+And yet a little pert, be sure! 
+
+The lip so red, the cheek’s clear dawn, 
+I'll not forget while the world rolls on! 
+How she cast down her timid eyes, 
+
+Deep in my heart imprinted lies: 
+
+How short and sharp of speech was she,™ 
+Why, ’t was a real ecstasy ! 
+
+
+(MEPHISTOPHELES enters.\ 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Hear, of that girl 1d have possession ! 
+H 
+
+
+114 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Which, then ? 
+FAUST. 
+
+
+The one who just went by. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+She, there? She’s coming from confession, 
+Of every sin absolved; for I, 
+
+Behind her chair, was listening nigh. 
+
+So innocent is she, indeed, 
+
+That to confess she had no need. 
+
+I have no power o’er souls so green. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+And yet, she’s older than fourteen. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+How now! You’re talking like Jack Rake, 
+Who every flower for himself would take, 
+And fancies there are no favors more, 
+
+Nor honors, save for him in store; 
+
+Yet always does n’t the thing succeed. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Most Worthy Pedagogue, take heed ! 95 
+Let not a word of moral law be spoken! 
+I claim, I tell thee, all my right ; 
+And if that image of delight 
+Rest not within mine arms to-night, 
+At midnight is our compact broken. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPLELES. 
+But think, the chances of the case! 
+I need, at least, a fortnight’s space, 
+To find an opportune occasion. 
+
+
+SCENE VII. 115 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+Had I but seven hours for all, 
+I should not on the Devil call, 
+But win her by my own persuasion. 
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+You almost like a Frenchman prate ; 
+Yet, pray, don’t take it as annoyance! 
+Why, all at once, exhaust the joyance? 
+Your bliss is by no means so great 
+As if you’d use, to get control, 
+All sorts of tender rigmarole, 
+And knead and shape her to your thought, 
+As in Italian tales ’t is taught.* 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Without that, I have appetite. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+But now, leave jesting out of sight! 
+I tell you, once for all, that speed 
+With this fair girl will not succeed ; 
+By storm she cannot captured be; 
+We must make use of strategy. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Get me something the angel keeps ! 
+Lead me thither where she sleeps ! 
+Get me a kerchief from her breast, — 
+A garter that her knee has pressed! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+That you may see how much I ’d fain 
+Further and satisfy your pain, 
+We will no longer lose a minute ; 
+Ill find her room to-day, and take you in it. 
+
+
+116 FAUST. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+And shall I see — possess her ? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+No! 
+
+
+Unto a neighbor she must go, 
+
+And meanwhile thou, alone, mayst glow 
+With every hope of future pleasure, 
+Breathing her atmosphere in fullest measure. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Can we go thither ? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+’T is too early yet. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+A gift for her I bid thee get! 
+[Zxit. 
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Presents at once? That’s good: he’s certain to get at 
+
+
+her ! 
+Full many a pleasant place I know, 
+And treasures, buried long ago: 
+I must, perforce, look up the matter. 
+
+
+SCENE VIII. 117 
+
+
+VIII. 
+EVENING. 
+A SMALL, NEATLY KEPT CHAMBER. 
+
+
+MARGARET 
+( plaiting and binding up the braids of her hair). 
+I ’D something give, could I but say 
+Who was that gentleman, to-day. 
+Surely a gallant man was he, 
+And of a noble family ; 
+So much could I in his face behold, — 
+And he would n’t, else, have been so bold ! 
+[Lxst 
+MEPHISTOPHELES. FAUST. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Come in, but gently: follow me! 
+
+
+FAUST (after a moment's silence). 
+Leave me alone, I beg of thee! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (frying about). 
+Not every girl keeps things so neat. 
+
+
+FAUST (looking around). 
+O welcome, twilight soft and sweet,” 
+That breathes throughout this hallowed shrine! 
+Sweet pain of love, bind thou with fetters fleet 
+The heart that on the dew of hope must pine! 
+
+
+118 FAUST. 
+
+
+How all around a sense impresses 
+
+Of quiet, order, and content ! 
+
+This poverty what bounty blesses |! 
+
+What bliss within this narrow den is pent! 
+
+
+(He throws himself into a leathern arm-chair near the bed.) 
+
+
+Receive me, thou, that in thine open arms 
+Departed joy and pain wert wont to gather! 
+How oft the children, with their ruddy charms, 
+Hung here, around this throne, where sat the father! 
+Perchance my love, amid the childish band, 
+Grateful for gifts the Holy Christmas gave her, 
+Here meekly kissed the grandsire’s withered hand. 
+I feel, O maid! thy very soul 
+Of order and content around me whisper, — 
+Which leads thee with its motherly control, 
+The cloth upon thy board bids smoothly thee unroll, 
+The sand beneath thy feet makes whiter, crisper. 
+O dearest hand, to thee ’t is given 
+To change this hut into a lower heaven! 
+And here! 
+
+(He lifts one of the bed-curtains.) 
+
+
+What sweetest thrill is in my blood! 
+Here could I spend whole hours, delaying: 
+Here Nature shaped, as if in sportive playing, 
+The angel blossom from the bud. 
+
+
+Here lay the child, with Life’s warm essence 
+
+The tender bosom filled and fair, 
+
+And here was wrought, through holier, purer presence, 
+The form diviner beings wear! 
+
+
+And I? What drew me here with power? 
+How deeply am I moved, this hour! 
+
+
+SCENE VIII. 119 
+
+
+What seek I? Why so full my heart, and sore? 
+Miserable Faust! I know thee now no more. 
+
+
+Is there a magic vapor here? 
+
+I came, with lust of instant pleasure, 
+
+And lie dissolved in dreams of love’s sweet leisure ! 
+Are we the sport of every changeful atmosphere ? 
+
+
+And if, this moment, came she in to me, 
+How would I for the fault atonement render ! 
+How small the giant lout would be, 
+
+Prone at her feet, relaxed and tender! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Be quick! I see her there, returning. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Go! go! I never will retreat. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Here is a casket, not unmeet, 
+
+Which elsewhere I have just been earning. 
+Here, set it in the press, with haste! 
+
+I swear, ’t will turn her head, to spy it: 
+Some baubles I therein had placed, 
+
+That you might win another by it. 
+
+True, child is child, and play is play. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+I know not, should I do it?* 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Ask you, pray? 
+Yourself, perhaps, would keep the bubble ? 
+Then I suggest, ’t were fair and just 
+
+
+120 FA UST. 
+
+
+To spare the lovely day your lust, 
+
+And spare to me the further trouble. 
+You are not miserly, I trust? 
+
+I rub my hands, in expectation tender ~ 
+
+
+(He places the cashet in the press, and locks it again.) 
+
+
+Now quick, away ! 
+The sweet young maiden to betray, 
+So that by wish and will you bend her ; 
+And you look as though 
+To the lecture-hall you were forced to go, — 
+As if stood before you, gray and loath, 
+Physics and Metaphysics both! 
+But away ! 
+[ Excuct 
+MARGARET (with a lamp). 
+
+
+It is so close, so sultry, here! 
+(She opens the window.) 
+
+
+And yet ’t is not so warm outside. 
+
+I feel, I know not why, such fear ! — 
+Would mother came !— where can she bide? 
+My body ’s chill and shuddering, — 
+
+I ’m but a silly, fearsome thing! 
+
+
+(She begins to sing, while undressing.) 
+
+
+There was a King in Thule,» 
+Was faithful till the grave, — 
+Te whom his mistress, dying, 
+A golden goblet gave. 
+
+
+Naught was to him more precious ; 
+He drained it at every bout: 
+His eyes with tears ran over, 
+As oft as he drank thereout. 
+
+
+SCENE VII. 122 
+
+
+When came his time of dying, 
+The towns in his land he told, 
+Naught else to his heir denying 
+Except the goblet of gold. 
+
+
+He sat at the royal banquet 
+With his knights of high degree, 
+In the lofty hall of his fathers 
+In the Castle by the Sea. 
+
+
+There stood the old carouser, 
+And drank the last life-glow , 
+And hurled the hallowed goblet 
+Into the tide below. 
+
+
+He saw it plunging and filling, 
+And sinking deep in the sea: 
+Then fell his eyelids forever, 
+And never more drank he! 
+
+
+(She opens the press in order to arrange her clothes, and per 
+cetves the casket of jewels.) 
+
+
+How comes that lovely casket here to me? 
+
+I locked the press, most certainly. 
+
+T is truly wonderful! What can within it be? 
+Perhaps ’t was brought by some one as a pawn, 
+And mother gave a loan thereon? 
+
+And here there hangs a key to fit: 
+
+I have a mind to open it. 
+
+What is that? God in Heaven! Whence came 
+Such things? Never beheld I aught so fair! 
+Rich ornaments, such as a noble dame 
+
+On highest holidays might wear! 
+
+How would the pearl-chain suit my hair? 
+
+Ah, who may all this splendor own? 
+
+VOL. I. 6 
+
+
+ae FAUST. 
+
+
+(Ske adorns herself with the jewelry, and steps before the 
+mirror.) 
+Were but the ear-rings mine, a'one! 
+One has at once another air. 
+What helps one’s beauty, youthful blood ? 
+One may possess them, well and good; 
+But none the more do others care. 
+They praise us half in pity, sure: 
+To gold still tends, 
+On gold depends 
+
+
+All, all! Alas, we poor! 
+
+
+SCENE IX. 123 
+
+
+IX. 
+
+
+PROMENADE. 
+
+
+(Faust, walking thoughtfully up and down. To him MEPHis- 
+TOPHELES.) 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+B* all love ever rejected! By hell-fire hot and un 
+sparing ! 
+I wish I knew something worse, that I might use it for 
+swearing ! 
+FAUST. 
+What ails thee? What is ’t gripes thee, elf? 
+A face like thine beheld I never. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+I would myself unto the Devil deliver, 
+If I were not a Devil myself! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Thy head is out of order, sadly: 
+It much becomes thee to be raving madly. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Just think, the pocket of a priest should get 
+The trinkets left for Margaret! 
+
+The mother saw them, and, instanter, 
+
+A secret dread began to haunt her. © 
+
+Keen scent has she for tainted air; 
+
+She snuffs within her book of prayer, 
+
+
+124 FAUST. 
+
+
+And smells each article, to see 
+
+If sacred or profane it be; 
+
+So here she guessed, from every gem, 
+That not much blessing came with them. 
+“‘ My child,” she said, “ill-gotten good 
+Ensnares the soul, consumes the blood. 
+Before the Mother of God well lay it; 
+With heavenly manna she ’ll repay it!” = 
+But Margaret thought, with sour grimace, 
+“A gift-horse is not out of place, 
+
+And, truly! godless cannot be 
+
+The one who brought such things to me.” 
+A parson came, by the mother bidden: 
+He saw, at once, where the game was hidden, 
+And viewed it with a favor stealthy. 
+
+He spake: “ That is the proper view, — 
+Who overcometh, winneth too. 
+
+The Holy Church has a stomach healthy: 
+Hath eaten many a land as forfeit, 
+
+And never yet complained of surfeit: 
+
+The Church alone, beyond all question, 
+Has for ill-gotten goods the right digestion.” 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+A general practice is the same, 
+Which Jew and King may also claim. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Then bagged the spangles, chains, and rings, 
+As if but toadstools were the things, 
+
+And thanked no less, and thanked no more 
+Than if a sack of nuts he bore, — 
+
+Promised them fullest heavenly pay, 
+
+And deeply edified were they. 
+
+
+SCENE IX, 135 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+And Margaret? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Sits unrestful still, 
+And knows not what she should, or will; 
+Thinks on the jewels, day and night, 
+But more on him who gave her such delight. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+The darling’s sorrow gives me pain. 
+Get thou a set for her again! 
+The first was not a great display. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+O yes, the gentleman finds it all child’s-play ! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Fix and arrange it to my will; 
+And on her neighbor try thy skill! 
+Don’t be a Devil stiff as paste, 
+But get fresh jewels to her taste! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Yes, gracious Sir, in all obedience! 
+
+[Exit Faust 
+Such an enamored fool in air would blow 
+Sun, moon, and all the starry legions, 
+
+
+To give his sweetheart a diverting show. 
+[ Zxit 
+
+
+126 FAUST. 
+
+
+X. 
+
+
+THE NEIGHBOR’S HOUSE. 
+
+
+MARTHA (sous). 
+Ce forgive my husband, yet he 
+Has n’t done his duty by me! 
+Off in the world he went straightway, — 
+Left me lie in the straw where I lay, 
+And, truly, I did naught to fret him: 
+God knows I loved, and can’t forget him! 
+(She weeps.) 
+Perhaps he’s even dead! Ah, woe! — 
+Had I a certificate to show! 
+
+
+MARGARET (comes). 
+Dame Martha! 
+MARTHA. 
+
+
+Margaret! what ’s happened thee? 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+I scarce can stand, my knees are trembling! 
+I find a box, the first resembling, 
+Within my press! Of ebony, — 
+And things, all splendid to behold, 
+And richer far than were the old. : 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+
+
+You must n’t tell it to your mother! 
+’T would go to the priest, as did the other. 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE X. 127 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+Ah, look and see — just look and see! 
+
+
+MARTHA (adorning her). 
+O, what a blessed luck for thee! 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+But,gh ! in the streets I dare not bear them, 
+Nor in the church be seen to wear them 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+
+
+Yet thou canst often this way wander, 
+
+And secretly the jewels don, 
+
+Walk up and down an hour, before the mirror yonder, — 
+We'll have our private joy thereon. 
+
+And then a chance will come, a holiday, 
+
+When, piece by piece, can one the things abroad display, 
+A chain at first, then other ornament: 
+
+Thy mother will not see, and stories we ’ll invent. 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+Whoever could have brought me things so precious ? 
+That something ’s wrong, I feel suspicious. 
+
+
+(A knock.) 
+Good Heaven! My mother can that have been? 
+
+
+MARTHA (feeping through the blind). 
+"T is some strange gentleman. — Come in! 
+
+
+(MEPHISTOPHELES enters.) 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+That I so boldly introduce me, 
+I beg you, ladies, to excuse me. 
+
+
+128 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+(Steps back reverently, on seeing MARGARET.) 
+For Martha Schwerdtlein I ’d inquire! 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+I’m she: what does the gentleman desire? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (aside fo her). 
+It is enough that you are she: 
+You ’ve a visitor of high degree. 
+Pardon the freedom I have ta’en, — 
+Will after noon return again. 
+
+
+MARTHA (aloud). 
+
+
+Of all things in the world! Just hear — 
+He takes thee for a lady, dear! 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+I am a creature young and poor: 
+The gentleman ’s too kind. I ’m sure. 
+The jewels don’t belong to me. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Ah, not alone the jewelry! 
+The look, the manner, both betray — 
+Rejoiced am I that I may stay! 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+What is your business? 1 would fain — 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+J would I had a more cheerful strain ! 
+Take not unkindly its repeating : 
+Your husband ’s dead, and sends a greeting. 
+
+
+SCENE X. “129 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+
+
+Is dead? Alas, that heart so true! 
+My husband dead! Let me die, too! 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+Ah, dearest dame, let not your courage fail ! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Hear me relate the mournful tale! 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+Therefore I ’d never love, believe me! 
+A loss like this to death would grieve me. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Joy follows woe, woe after joy comes flying. 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+Relate his life’s sad close to me! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+In Padua buried, he is lying 
+Beside the good Saint Antony,'= 
+Within a grave well consecrated, 
+For cool, eternal rest created. 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+He gave you, further, no commission ? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+Yes, one of weight, with many sighs: 
+Three hundred masses buy, to save him from perdition ! 
+My hands are empty, otherwise. 
+6* 1 
+
+
+130 FAUST. 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+What! Nota pocket-piece? no jewelry? 
+What every journeyman within his wallet spares, 
+And as a token with him bears, 
+And rather starves or begs, than loses ? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Madan, it is a grief to me; 
+Yet, on my word, his cash was put to proper uses. 
+
+
+Besides, his penitence was very sore, 
+And he lamented his ill fortune all the more. 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+Alack, that men are so unfortunate ! 
+Surely for his soul’s sake full many a prayer I ’1l proffer. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+You well deserve a speedy marriage-offer : 
+You are so kind, compassionate. 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+O, no! As yet, it would not do. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+If not a husband, then a beau for you! 
+It is the greatest heavenly blessing, 
+To have a dear thing for one’s caressing. 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+The country’s custom is not so. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Custom, or not! It happens, though. 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+SCENE X. 131 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+
+Continue, pray ! 
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+I stood beside his bed of dying. 
+'T was something better than manure, — 
+Half-rotten straw: and yet, he died a Christian, sure, 
+And found that heavier scores to his account were lying, 
+He cried: “I find my conduct wholly hateful! 
+To leave my wife, my trade, in manner so ungrateful ! 
+Ah, the remembrance makes me die! 
+Would of my wrong to her I might be shriven !” 
+
+
+MARTHA (weeping). 
+The dear, good man! Long since was he forgiven. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+“Yet she, God knows! was more to blame than I.” 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+He lied! What! On the brink of death he slandered 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+In the last throes his senses wandered, 
+If I such things but half can judge. 
+He said: “I had no time for play, for gaping freedom: 
+First children, and then work for bread to feed ’em, — 
+For bread, in the widest sense, to drudge, 
+And could not even eat my share in peace and quiet!” 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+
+
+Had he all love, all faith forgotten in his riot ? 
+My work and worry, day and night? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Not so: the memory of it touched him quite. 
+Said he: “ When I from Malta went away 
+
+
+
+
+
+132 FAUST. 
+
+
+My prayers for wife and little ones were zealous, 
+And such a luck from Heaven befell us, 
+
+We made a Turkish merchantman our prey, 
+That to the Soldan bore a mighty treasure. 
+Then I received, as was most fit, 
+
+Since bravery was paid in fullest measure, 
+
+My well-apportioned share of it.” 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+Say, how? Say, where? If buried, did he own it? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Who knows, now, whither the four winds have blown it} 
+A fair young damsel took him in her care, 
+
+As he in Naples wandered round, unfriended ; 
+
+And she much love, much faith to him did bear, 
+
+So that he felt it till his days were ended. 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+The villain! From his children thieving! 
+Even all the misery on him cast 
+Could not prevent his shameful way of living ! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+But see! He’s dead therefrom, at last. 
+Were I in your place, do not doubt me, 
+I ’d mourn him decently a year, 
+And for another keep, meanwhile, my eyes about me. 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+
+
+Ah, God! another one so dear 
+
+As was my first, this world will hardly give me. 
+There never was a sweeter fool than mine, 
+Only he loved to roam and leave me, 
+
+And foreign wenches and foreign wine, 
+
+And the damned throw of dice, indeed. 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE X. 133 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Well, well! That might have done, however, 
+If he had only been as clever, 
+And treated your slips with as little heed. 
+I swear, with this condition, too, 
+1 would, myself, change rings with you. 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+The gentleman is pleased to jest. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (aside). 
+I ll cut away, betimes, from here : 
+She ’d take the Devil at his word, I fear. 
+(Zo MARGARET.) 
+How fares the heart within your breast? 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+What means the gentleman? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (aside). 
+Sweet innocent, thou art! 
+
+
+Aloud. 
+Ladies, farewell! 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+Farewell ! 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+A moment, ere we part! 
+I'd like to have a legal witness, 
+Where, how, and when he died, to certify with fitness. 
+Irregular ways I ’ve always hated ; 
+I want his death in the weekly paper stated.'°3 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Yes, my good dame, a pair of witnesses 
+Always the truth establishes. 
+
+
+134 
+
+
+FA OST. 
+
+
+I have a friend of high condition, 
+Who ’Il also add his deposition. 
+I ‘ll bring him here. 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+Good Sir, pray do! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+And this young lady will be present, too? 
+A gallant youth! has travelled far: 
+Ladies with him delighted are. 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+Before him I should blush, ashamed. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Before no king that could be named! 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+
+
+Behind the house, in my garden, then, 
+This eve we ’ll expect the gentlemen. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE X1. 135 
+
+
+XI. 
+STREET. 
+
+
+FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+H OW is it? under way? and soon complete? 
+
+
+' MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Ah, bravo! Do I find you burning? 
+Well, Margaret soon will still your yearning : 
+At Neighbor Martha’s you ’ll this evening meet. 
+A fitter woman ne’er was made 
+To ply the pimp and gypsy trade! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+"T is well. 
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Yet something is required from us. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+One service pays the other thus. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+We ’ve but to make a deposition valid 
+That now her husband’s limbs, outstretched and pallia, 
+At Padua rest, in consecrated soil. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Most wise! And first, of course, we ’ll make the jour- 
+ney thither? 
+
+
+136 FAUST. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Sancta simplicitas / no need of such a toil ; 
+Depose, with knowledge or without it, either ! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+If you ’ve naught better, then, I ’ll tear your pretty plan} 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Now, there you are! O holy man! 
+
+Is it the first time in your life you ’re driven 
+
+To bear false witness in a case? 
+
+Of God, the world and all that in it has a place, 
+
+Of Man, and all that moves the being of his race, 
+
+Have you not terms and definitions given 
+
+With brazen forehead, daring breast? 
+
+And, if you ’ll probe the thing profoundly, 
+
+Knew you so much — and you ’Il confess it roundly ! ~ 
+As here of Schwerdtlein’s death and place of restr 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Thou art, and thou remain’st, a sophist, liar. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Yes, knew I not more deeply thy desire. 
+For wilt thou not, no lover fairer, 
+
+Poor Margaret flatter, and ensnare her, 
+And all thy soul’s devotion swear her? 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+And from my heart. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+T is very fine! 
+Thine endless love, thy faith assuring, 
+The one almighty force enduring, — 
+Will that, too, prompt this heart of thine? 
+
+
+SCENE XI. 137 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Hold! hold! It will!— If such my flame, 
+
+And for the sense and power intense 
+
+I seek, and cannot find, a name ; 
+
+Then range with all my senses through creation, 
+Craving the speech of inspiration, 
+
+And call this ardor, so supernal, 
+
+Endless, eternal and eternal, — 
+
+Is that a devilish lying game? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+And yet I’m right! 
+FAUST. 
+Mark this, I beg of thee! 
+And spare my lungs henceforth : whoever 
+Intends to have the right, if but his tongue be clever, 
+Will have it, certainly. 
+But come: the further talking brings disgust, 
+For thou art right, especially since I must. 
+
+
+138 FAUST. 
+
+
+XIT. 
+
+
+GARDEN. 
+
+
+(MARGARET on FAUST’S arm. MARTHA and MEPHISTOPH- 
+ELES walking up and down.) 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+T FEEL, the gentleman ailows for me, 
+Demeans himself, and shames me by it; 
+
+A traveller is so used to be 
+
+Kindly content with any diet. 
+
+1 know too well that my poor gossip can 
+
+Ne’er entertain such an experienced man. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+A look from thee, a word, more entertains 
+Than all the lore of wisest brains. 
+(He kisses her hand.) 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+Don’t incommode yourself! How could you ever kiss it! 
+
+
+It is so ugly, rough to see ! 
+What work I do, — how hard and steady is it! 
+Mother is much too close with me. 
+[ They pass. 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+And you, Sir, travel always, do you not ? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Alas, that trade and duty us so harry! 
+
+
+SCENE XI. 139 
+
+
+With what a pang one leaves so many a spot, 
+And dares not even now and then to tarry! 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+In young, wild years it suits your ways, 
+This round and round the world in freedom sweeping ; 
+But then come on the evil days, 
+And so, as bachelor, into his grave a-creeping, 
+None ever found a thing to praise. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+I dread to see how such a fate advances. 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+Then, worthy Sir, improve betimes your chances ! 
+[ They pass 
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+Yes, out of sight is out of mind! 
+Your courtesy an easy grace is; 
+
+But you have friends in other places, 
+And sensibler than I, you ’Il find. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Trust me, dear heart! what men call sensible 
+Is oft mere vanity and narrowness. 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+How so? 
+FAUST. 
+Ah, that simplicity and innocence ne’er know 
+Themselves, their holy value, and their spell ! 
+That meekness, lowliness, the highest graces 
+Which Nature portions out so lovingly — 
+
+
+140 FAUST. 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+So you but think a moment’s space on me, 
+All times I ’ll have to think on you, all places ! 's 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+No doubt you ’re much alone? 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+Yes, for our household small has grown, 
+
+Yet must be cared for, you will own. 
+
+We have no maid: I do the knitting, sewing, sweeping, 
+The cooking, early work and late, in fact; 
+
+And mother, in her notions of housekeeping, 
+
+Is so exact! . 
+
+Not that she needs so much to keep expenses down: 
+We, more than others, might take comfort, rather: 
+A nice estate was left us by my father, 
+
+A house, a little garden near the town. 
+
+But now my days have less of noise and hurry ; 
+
+My brother is a soldier, 
+
+My little sister ’s dead. 
+
+True, with the child a troubled life I led, 
+
+Yet I would take again, and willing, all the worry, 
+So very dear was she. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+An angel, if like thee ! 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+I brought it up, and it was fond of me. 
+
+Father had died before it saw the light, 
+
+And mother’s case seemed hopeless quite, 
+
+So weak and miserable she lay ; 
+
+And she recovered, then, so slowly, day by day. 
+She could not think, herself, of giving 
+
+
+SCENE XI. 141 
+
+
+The poor wee thing its natural living; 
+And so I nursed it all alone 
+
+With milk and water: ’t was my own. 
+Lulled in my lap with many a song, 
+
+It smiled, and tumbled, and grew strong. 
+
+
+FAUST.., 
+The purest bliss was surely then thy dower. 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+But surely, also, many a weary hour. 
+I kept the baby’s cradle near 
+My bed at night: if ’t even stirred, I ’d guess it, 
+And waking, hear. 
+And I must nurse it, warm beside me press it, 
+And oft, to quiet it, my bed forsake, 
+And dandling back and forth the restless creature take, 
+Then at the wash-tub stand, at morning’s break ; 
+And then the marketing and kitchen-tending, 
+Day after day, the same thing, never-ending. 
+One’s spirits, Sir, are thus not always good, 
+But then one learns to relish rest and food. 
+[They pass 
+MARTHA. 
+Yes, the poor women are bad off, ’t is true: 
+A stubborn bachelor there ’s no converting. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+It but depends upon the like of you, 
+And I should turn to better ways than flirting. 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+
+
+Speak plainly, Sir, have you no one detected ? 
+Has not your heart been anywhere subjected? 
+
+
+1142 FA OST, 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+The proverb says: One’s own warm hearth 
+And a good wife, are gold and jewels worth. 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+I mean, have you not felt desire, though ne’er so slightly ? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+I ’ve everywhere, in fact, been entertained politely. 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+I meant to say, were you not touched in earnest, ever? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+One should allow one’s self to jest with ladies never. 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+Ah, you don’t understand ! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+I ’m sorry I ’m so blind: 
+But I am sure —that you are very kind. 
+[ They pass. 
+FAUST. 
+And me, thou angel! didst thou recognize, 
+As through the garden-gate I came? 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+Did you not see it? I cast down my eyes. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+And thou forgiv’st my freedom, and the blame 
+To my impertinence befitting, 
+As the Cathedral thou wert quitting? 
+
+
+SCENE XII. 143 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+I was confused, the like ne’er happened me; 
+No one could ever speak to my discredit. 
+
+Ah, thought I, in my conduct has he read it— 
+Something immcodest or unseemly free? 
+
+He seemed to have the sudden feeling 
+
+That with this wench ’t were very easy dealing. 
+I will confess, I knew not what appeal 
+
+On your behalf, here, in my bosom grew ; 
+
+But I was angry with myself, to feel 
+
+That I could not be angrier with you. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Sweet darling! 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+: Wait a while! 
+(She plucks a star-flower,* and pulls off the leaves, one after 
+the other.) 
+FAUST. 
+Shall that a nosegay be? 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+No, it is just in play. 
+FAUST. 
+How? 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+Go! you'll laugh at me 
+
+
+(She pulls off the Leaves and murmurs.) 
+
+
+PAUST. 
+What murmurest thou ? 
+
+
+144 FAUST. 
+
+
+MARGARET (half aloud). 
+He loves me — loves me not. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Thou sweet, angelic soul! 
+
+
+MARGARET (continues). 
+Loves me — not — loves me — not ~ 
+
+
+(plucking the last leaf, she cries with frank delight :) 
+He loves me! 
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Yes, child! and let this blossom-word 
+For thee be speech divine! He loves thee! 
+Ah, know’st thou what it means? He loves thee! . 
+
+
+(He grasps both her hands.) 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+I’m all a-tremble! 
+FAUST. 
+O tremble not! but let this look, 
+
+Let this warm clasp of hands declare thee 
+What is unspeakable! 
+To yield one wholly, and to feel a rapture 
+In yielding, that must be eternal! 
+Eternal !—for the end would be despair. 
+No, no, — no ending! no ending ! 
+
+
+MARTHA (coming forward ). 
+The night is falling. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Ay ! we must away. 
+
+
+
+
+
+VJ 
+
+
+SCENE XII. 14$ 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+
+
+I ’d ask you, longer here to tarry, 
+
+But evil tongues in this town have full play. 
+
+It’s as if nobody had nothing to fetch and carry,'” 
+Nor other labor, 
+
+But spying all the doings of one’s neighbor : 
+
+And one becomes the talk, do whatsoe’er one may. 
+Where is our couple now? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Flown up the alley yonder, 
+The wilful summer-birds! 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+He seems of her still fonder. 
+
+
+MESHISTOPHELES. 
+And she of him. So runs the world away! 
+
+
+VOL. L 
+
+
+
+
+
+146 FAUST. 
+
+
+XITI. 
+
+
+A GARDEN-ARBOR. 
+
+
+(MARGARET comes in, conceals herself behind the door, puts her 
+Singer to her lips, and peeps through the crack.) 
+
+
+El comes ! 
+
+
+I have thee! 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+FAUST (entering). 
+Ah, rogue ! a tease thou art: 
+
+
+(He kisses her.) 
+MARGARET 
+
+
+(clasping him, and returning the kiss). 
+Dearest man! I love thee from my heart. 
+
+
+(MEPHISTOPHELES &ntocks.) 
+
+
+FAUST (stamping his foot). 
+Who’s there ? 
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+A friend! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+A beast! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+’T is time to separate 
+
+
+SCENE X11. 147 
+
+
+MARTHA (coming). 
+Yes, Sir, ’t is late. 
+FAUST. 
+May I not, then, upoa you wait? 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+My mother would — farewell ! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+| Ah, car I vot remain ? 
+Farewell ! 
+
+
+' Adieu! 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+And soon to meet again! 
+[ Zxeunt FAUST and MEPHISTOPHELES; 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+Dear God! However is it, such 
+
+A man. can think and know so much ? 
+I stand ashamed and in amaze, 
+
+And answer “ Yes ” to all he says, 
+
+A poor, unknowing child! and he — 
+I can’t think what he finds in me! 
+
+
+148 FAUST. 
+
+
+XIV. 
+
+
+FOREST AND CAVERN. 
+
+
+FAUST (solus). 
+
+
+cent sublime, thou gav’st me, gav’st me al] 
+For which I prayed. Not unto me in vain 
+Hast thou thy countenance revealed in fire. 
+Thou gav’st me Nature as a kingdom grand, 
+With power to feel and to enjoy it. Thou 
+
+Not only cold, amazed acquaintance yield’st, 
+
+But grantest, that in her profoundest breast 
+
+I gaze, as in the bosom of a friend. 
+
+The ranks of living creatures thou dost lead 
+Before me, teaching me to know my brothers 
+
+In air and water and the silent wood. 
+
+And when the storm in forests roars and grinds, 
+The giant firs, in falling, neighbor boughs 
+
+And neighbor trunks with crushing weight bear down, 
+And falling, fill the hills with hollow thunders, — 
+Then to the cave secure thou leadest me, 
+
+Then show’st me mine own self, and in my breast 
+The deep, mysterious miracles unfold. 
+
+And when the perfect moon before my gaze 
+Comes up with soothing light, around me float 
+From every precipice and thicket damp 
+
+The silvery phantoms of the ages past, 
+
+And temper the austere delight of thought. 
+
+
+That nothing can be perfect unto Man 
+I now am conscious. With this ecstasy, 
+
+
+SCENE XIV. 149 
+
+
+Which brings me near and nearer to the Gods, 
+Thou gav’st the comrade, whom I now no more 
+Can do without, though, cold and scurnful, he 
+Demeans me to myself, and with a breath, 
+
+A word, transforms thy gifts to nothingness. 
+Within my breast he fans a lawless fire, 
+Unwearied, for that fair and lovely form: 
+
+Thus in desire I hasten to enjoyment, 
+
+And in enjoyment pine to feel desire. 
+
+
+(MEPHISTOPHELES enters.) 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Have you not led this life quite long enough? 
+How can a further test delight you? 
+’T is very well, that once one tries the stuff, 
+But something new must then requite you. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Would there were other work for thee ! 
+To plague my day auspicious thou returnest. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Well! I ’ll engage to let thee be: 
+Thou darest not tell me so in earnest. 
+The loss of thee were truly very slight, — 
+A comrade crazy, rude, repelling : 
+One has one’s hands full all the day and night; 
+If what one does, or leaves undone, is right, 
+From such a face as thine there is no telling. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+There is, again, thy proper tone! — 
+That thou hast bored me, I must thankful be! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES, 
+Poor Son of Earth, how couldst thou thus alone 
+Have led thy life, bereft of me ? 
+
+
+150 FAOST. ° 
+
+
+I, for a time, at least, have worked thy cure; 
+
+Thy fancy’s rickets plague thee not at all: 
+
+Had I not been, so hadst thou, sure, 
+
+Walked thyself off this earthly ball. 
+
+Why here to caverns, rocky hollows slinking, 
+
+Sit’st thou, as ’t were an owl a-blinking ? 
+
+Why suck’st, from sodden moss and dripping stone, 
+Toad-like, thy nourishment alone ? 
+
+A fine way, this, thy time to fill! 
+
+The Doctor ’s in thy body still. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+What fresh and vital forces, canst thou guess, 
+Spring from my commerce with the wilderness? 
+But, if thou hadst the power of guessing, 
+Thou wouldst be devil enough to grudge my soul the 
+blessing. " 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+A blessing drawn from supernatural fountains ! 
+
+In night and dew to lie ypon the mountains ; 
+
+All Heaven and Earth in rapture penetrating ; 
+
+Thyself to Godhood haughtily inflating ; 
+
+To grub with yearning force through Earth’s dark 
+marrow, 
+
+Compress the six days’ work within thy bosom nar- 
+row, +— 
+
+To taste, I know not what, in haughty power, 
+
+Thine own ecstatic life on all things shower, 
+
+Thine earthly self behind thee cast, 
+
+And then the lofty instinct, thus — 
+
+
+(With a gesture :) 
+at last, — 
+I dare n’t say how —to pluck the final flower ! 
+
+
+SCENE XIV. 1st 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Shame on thee! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Yes, thou findest that unpleasant! 
+Thou hast the moral right to cry me “shame!” at present. 
+One dares not that before chaste ears declare,'™™ 
+Which chaste hearts, notwithstanding, cannot spare; 
+And, once for all, I grudge thee not the pleasure 
+Of lying to thyself in moderate measure. 
+But such a course thou wilt not long endure; 
+Already art thou o’er-excited, 
+And, if it last, wilt soon be plighted 
+To madness and to horror, sure. 
+Enough of that! Thy love sits lonely yonder,* 
+By all things saddened and oppressed ; 
+Her thoughts and yearnings séek thee, tenderer, fonder,— 
+A mighty love is in her breast. 
+First came thy passion’s flood and poured around her 
+As when from melted snow a streamlet overflows; 
+Thou hast therewith so filled and drowned her, 
+That now /ky stream all shallow shows. 
+Methinks, instead of in the forests lording, 
+The noble Sir should find it good, 
+The love of this young silly blood 
+At once to set about rewarding. 
+Her time is miserably long; 
+She haunts her window, watching clouds that stray 
+O’er the old city-wall, and far away. 
+“Were I a little bird!” so runs her song,™* 
+Day long, and half night long. 
+Now she is lively, mostly sad, 
+Now, wept beyond her tears; 
+Then again quiet she appears, — 
+Always love-mad. 
+
+
+152 - FAUST. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Serpent! serpent! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (aside). 
+Ha! do I trap thee! 
+FAUST. 
+Get thee away with thine offences, _ 
+Reprobate! Name not that fairest thing, 
+Nor the desire for her sweet body bring 
+Again before my half-distracted senses ! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+What wouldst thou, then? She thinks that thou art 
+flown; 
+And half and half thou art, I own. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Yet am I near, and love keeps watch and ward; 
+Though I were ne’er so far, it cannot falter; 
+
+T envy even the Body of the Lord 
+
+The touching of her lips, before the altar. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+"T is very well! AZy envy oft reposes 
+On your twin-pair, that feed among the roses." 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Away, thou pimp! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+You rail, and it is fun to me. 
+The God, who fashioned youth and maid, 
+Perceived the noblest purpose of His trade, 
+And also made their opportunity. 
+Goon! It is a woe profound ! 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE XIV. T53 
+
+
+'T is for your sweetheart’s room you ’re bound, 
+And not for death, indeed. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+What are, within her arms, tne heavenly blisses ? 
+Though I be glowing with her kisses, 
+
+Do I not always share her need? 
+
+I am the fugitive, all houseless roaming, 
+
+The monster without aim or rest, 
+
+That like a cataract, down rocks and gorges foaming, 
+Leaps, maddened, into the abyss’s breast ! 
+
+And side-wards she, with young unwakened senses, 
+Within her cabin on the Alpine field 
+
+Her simple, homely life commences, 
+
+Her little world therein concealed. 
+
+And I, God’s hate flung o’er me, 
+
+Had not enough, to thrust 
+
+The stubborn rocks before me 
+
+And strike them into dust ! 
+
+She and her peace I yet must undermine: 
+
+Thou, Hell, hast claimed this sacrifice as thine! 
+Help, Devil! through the coming pangs to push me; 
+What must be, let it quickly be! 
+
+Let fall on me her fate, and also crush me, — 
+
+One ruin whelm both her and me ! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Again it seethes, again it glows! 
+Thou fool, go in and comfort her ! 
+When such a head as thine no outlet knows, 
+It thinks the end must soon occur. 
+Hail him, who keeps a steadfast mind! 
+Thou, else, dost well the devil-nature wear: 
+Naught so insipid in the world I find 
+As is a devil in despair. 
+
+7% 
+
+
+FAUST, 
+
+
+XV. 
+
+
+MARGARET’S ROOM. 
+
+
+MARGARET "3 
+(at the spinning-wheel, alone). 
+M Y peace is gone, 
+My heart is sore: 
+
+
+I never shall find it, 
+Ah, nevermore ! 
+
+
+Save I have him near, 
+The grave is here; 
+The world is gall 
+
+And bitterness all. 
+
+
+My poor weak head 
+Is racked and crazed; 
+My thought is lost, 
+My senses mazed. 
+
+
+My peace is gone, 
+My heart is sore: 
+
+I never shall find it, 
+Ah, nevermore ! 
+
+
+To see him, him only, 
+At the pane I sit; 
+
+To meet him, him only, 
+The house I quit. 
+
+
+SCENE XV. 155 
+
+
+His lofty gait, 
+
+His noble size, 
+
+The smile of his mouth, 
+The power of his eyes, 
+
+
+And the magic flow 
+
+Of his talk, the bliss 
+
+In the clasp of his hand, 
+And, ah! his kiss! 
+
+
+My peace is gone, 
+My heart is sore: 
+
+I never shall find it, 
+Ah, nevermore ! 
+
+
+My bosom yearns 
+
+For him alone ; 
+
+Ah, dared I clasp him, 
+And hold, and own! 
+
+
+And kiss his mouth, 
+To heart’s desire, 
+And on his kisses 
+At last expire ! 
+
+
+156 FAUST. 
+
+
+XVL 
+
+
+MARTHA’S GARDEN. 
+
+
+MARGARET. FAUST. 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+pee me, Henry ! — 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+What I can! 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+How is ’t with thy religion, pray? 
+Thou art a dear, good-hearted man, 
+And yet, I think, dost not incline that way. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Leave that, my child! Thou know’st my iove is tender; 
+For love, my blood and life would I surrender, 
+And as for Faith and Church, I grant to each his own. 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+That ’s not enough: we must believe thereon. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Must we? 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+Would that I had some influence! 
+Then, too, thou honorest not the Holy Sacraments. 
+
+
+SCENE XVI. 157 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+I honor them. 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+Desiring no possession. 
+I is long since thou hast been to mass or to confession. 
+Believest thou in God? 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+My darling, who shall dare 
+“1 believe in God!” to say? 
+Ask priest or sage the answer to declare, 
+And it will seem a mocking play, 
+A sarcasm on the asker. 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+Then thou believest not! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Hear me not falsely, sweetest countenance ! "4 
+Who dare express Him? 
+And who profess Him, 
+Saying: I believe in Him! 
+Who, feeling, seeing, 
+Deny His being, 
+Saying: I believe Him not! 
+The All-enfolding, 
+The All-upholding, 
+Folds and upholds he not 
+Thee, me, Himself ? 
+Arches not there the sky above us? 
+Lies not beneath us, firm, the earth? > 
+And rise not, on us shining, 
+Friendly, the everlasting stars ? 
+Look I not, eye to eye, on thee, 
+
+
+158 FAUST. 
+
+
+And feel’st not, thronging 
+
+To head and heart, the force, 
+
+Still weaving its eternal secret, 
+
+Invisible, visible, round thy life? 
+
+Vast as it is, fill with that force thy heart, 
+And when thou in the feeling wholly blessed art, 
+Call it, then, what thou wilt, — 
+
+Call it Bliss! Heart! Love! God! 
+
+I have no name to give it! 
+
+Feeling is all in all: 
+
+The Name is sound and smoke, 
+Obscuring Heaven's clear glow. 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+All that is fine and good, to hear it so: 
+Much the same way the preacher spoke, 
+Only with slightly different phrases. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+The same thing, in all places, 
+
+All hearts that beat beneath the heavenly day — 
+Each in its language — say ; 
+
+Then why not I, in mine, as well? 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+To hear it thus, it may seem passable; 
+And yet, some hitch in ’t there must be 
+For thou hast no Christianity. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Dear love! 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+I’ve long been grieved vo see 
+That thou art in such company. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE XVI. 159 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+How so? 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+The man who with thee goes, thy mate, 
+Within my deepest, inmost soul I hate. 
+In all my life there’s nothing 
+Has given my heart so keen a pang of loathing, 
+As his repulsive face has done. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Nay, fear him not, my sweetest one! 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+I feel his presence like something ill. 
+
+I’ve else, for all, a kindly will, 
+
+But, much as my heart to see thee yearneth, 
+The secret horror of him returneth ; 
+
+And I think the man a knave, as I live! 
+
+If I do him wrong, may God forgive ! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+There must be such queer birds, however. 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+Live with the like of him, may I never! 
+When once inside the door comes he, 
+
+He looks around so sneeringly, 
+
+And half in wrath: 
+
+One sees that in nothing no interest he hath: 
+’T is written on his very forehead 
+
+That love, to him, is a thing abhorréd. 
+
+I am so happy on thine arm, 
+
+So free, so yielding, and so warm, 
+
+And in his presence stifled seems my heart. 
+
+
+160 FAUST. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Foreboding angel that thou art! 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+It overcomes me in such degree, 
+
+That wheresoe’er he meets us, even, 
+
+I feel as though I'd lost my love for thee. 
+When he is by, I could not pray to Heaven. 
+That burns within me like a flame, 
+
+And surely, Henry, ’t is with thee the same. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+There, now, is thine antipathy ! 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+But I must go. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Ah, shall there never be 
+A quiet hour, to see us fondly plighted, 
+With breast to breast, and soul to soul united ? 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+Ah, if I only slept alone! 
+
+I’d draw the bolts to-night, for thy desire ; 
+But mother’s sleep so light has grown, 
+And if we were discovered by her, 
+
+’T would be my death upon the spot ! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Thou angel, fear it not! 
+
+Here is a phial: in her drink 
+
+But three drops of it measure, 
+
+And deepest sleep will on her senses sink. 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE XVI. 161 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+What would I not, to give thee pleasure? 
+It will not harm her, when one tries it? 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+If ’t would, my love, would I advise it? 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+Ah, dearest man, if but thy face I see, 
+I know not what compels me to thy will: 
+So much have I already done for thee, 
+That scarcely more is left me to fulfil. 
+
+
+[Exit 
+(Enter MEPHISTOPHELES. ) 
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+The monkey! Is she gone? 
+FAUST. 
+Hast played the spy again? 
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+I’ve heard, most fully, how she drew thee. 
+
+The. Doctor has been catechised, ’t is plain ; 
+
+Great good, I hope, the thing will do thee. 
+
+The girls have much desire to ascertain 
+
+If one is prim and good, as ancient rules compel: 
+
+If there he ’s led, they think, he ’ll follow them as well. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Thou, monster, wilt nor see nor own 
+
+How this pure soul, of faith so lowly, 
+
+So loving and ineffable, — 
+
+- The faith alone 
+
+That her salvation is, — with scruples holy 
+
+Pines, lest she hold as lost the man she loves so well ! 
+K 
+
+
+162 FAUST. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Thou, full of sensual, super-sensual desire, 
+A girl by the nose is leading thee. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Abortion, thou, of filth and fire! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+And then, how masterly she reads physiognomy ! 
+When I am present she’s impressed, she knows not how; 
+She in my mask a hidden sense would read : 
+She feels that surely I’m a genius now, — 
+Perhaps the very Devil, indeed! 
+Well, well, — to-night —? 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+What’s that to thee ? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Yet my delight ’t will also be ! 
+
+
+SCENE XVII. 163 
+
+
+XVII. 
+
+
+AT THE FOUNTAIN."s 
+MARGARET and LISBETH with pitchers. 
+
+
+LISBETH. 
+H AST nothing heard of Barbara ? 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+No, not a word. I go so little out. 
+
+
+LISBETH. 
+It’s true, Sibylla said, to-day. 
+She ’s played the fool at last, there ’s not a doubt. 
+Such taking-on of airs ! 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+How so? 
+
+
+LISBETH. 
+It stinks ! 
+
+
+She ’s feeding two, whene’er she eats and drinks. 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+Ah! 
+
+
+LISBETH. 
+And so, at last, it serves her rightly. 
+She clung to the fellow so long and tightly ! 
+
+
+That was a promenading ! 
+At village and dance parading! 
+
+
+
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+As the first they must everywhere shine, 
+And he treated her always to pies and wine, 
+And she made a to-do with her face so fine ; 
+So mean and shameless was her behavior, 
+She took all the presents the fellow gave her. 
+’T was kissing and coddling, on and on! 
+
+So now, at the end, the flower is gone. 
+
+
+MARGARET, 
+The poor, poor thing ! 
+
+
+LISBETH. 
+Dost pity her, at that ? 
+
+When one of us at spinning sat, 
+And mother, nights, ne’er let us out the door 
+She sported with her paramour. 
+On the door-bench, in the passage dark, 
+The length of the time they ’d never mark. 
+So now her head no more she ’I] lift, 
+But do church-penance in her sinner’s shift ! 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+He ’ll surely take her for his wife. 
+
+
+LISBETH. 
+
+
+-He’d bea fool! A brisk young blade 
+
+
+Has room, elsewhere, to ply his trade. 
+Besides, he’s gone. 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+That is not fair ! 
+
+
+LISBETH. 
+If him she gets, why let her beware ! 
+
+
+SCENE XVII. 165 
+
+
+The boys shall dash her wreath on the floor, 
+And we ’ll scatter chaff before her door !'*6 
+[Zxit. 
+MARGARET (returning home). 
+
+
+How scornfully I once reviled, 
+
+When some poor maiden was beguiled ! 
+More speech than any tongue suffices 
+
+I craved, to censure others’ vices. 
+
+Black as it seemed, I blackened still, 
+And blacker yet was in my will; 
+
+And blessed myself, and boasted high, — 
+And now —a living sin am I! 
+
+Yet— all that drove my heart thereto, 
+God! was so good, so dear, so true! 
+
+
+166 FAUST. 
+
+
+XVIII 
+DONJON." 
+
+
+(J a niche of the wall a shrine, with an image of the Mater 
+Dolorosa. Pots of flowers before it.) 
+
+
+MARGARET 
+
+
+“(putting fresh flowers in the pots). 
+NCLINE, O Maiden, 
+Thou sorrow-laden, 
+Thy gracious countenance upon my pain ! 
+
+
+The sword Thy heart in, 
+With anguish smarting, 
+Thou lookest up to where Thy Son is slain! 
+
+
+Thou seest the Father ; 
+Thy sad sighs gather, 
+And bear aloft Thy sorrow and His pain! 
+
+
+Ah, past guessing, 
+
+Beyond expressing, 
+
+The pangs that wring my flesh and bone } 
+Why this anxious heart so burneth, 
+
+Why it trembleth, why it yearneth, 
+Knowest Thou, and Thou alone! 
+
+
+Where’er I go, what sorrow, 
+What woe, what woe and sorrow 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE XWII. 167 
+
+
+Within my bosom aches! 
+Alone, and ah! unsleeping, 
+
+I’m weeping, weeping, weeping, 
+The heart within me breaks. 
+
+
+The pots before my window, 
+Alas! my tears did wet, 
+As in the early morning 
+For thee these flowers I set. 
+
+
+Within my lonely chamber 
+The morning sun shone red: 
+I sat, in utter sorrow, 
+Already on my bed. 
+
+
+Help! rescue me from death and stain! 
+O Maiden! . 
+
+Thou sorrow-laden, 
+
+Incline Thy countenance upon my pain i 
+
+
+168 FAUST. 
+
+
+XIX. 
+NIGH f. 
+
+
+STREET BEFORE MARGARET’S DOOR. 
+
+
+VALENTINE "8 
+(a soldier, MARGARET'S brother). 
+
+
+HEN I have sat at some carouse, 
+Where each to each his brag allows, 
+And many a comrade praised to me 
+His pink of girls right lustily, 
+With brimming glass that spilled the toast, 
+And elbows planted as in boast: 
+I sat in unconcerned repose, 
+And heard the swagger as it rose. 
+And stroking then my beard, I'd say, 
+Smiling, the bumper in my hand: 
+“Each well enough in her own way, 
+But is there one in all the land 
+Like sister Margaret, good as gold, — 
+One that to her can a candle hold?” 
+Cling! clang! “ Here’s to her!” went around 
+The board: “ He speaks the truth!” cried some; 
+“In her the flower o’ the sex is found!” 
+And all the swaggerers were dumb. 
+And now! — I could tear my hair with vexation, 
+And dash out my brains in desperation ! 
+With turned-up nose each scamp may face me, 
+With sneers and stinging taunts disgrace me, 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE XIX. 169 
+
+
+And, like a bankrupt debtor sitting, 
+
+A chance-dropped word may set me sweating! 
+Yet, though I thresh them all together, 
+
+I cannot call them liars, either. 
+
+
+But what comes sneaking, there, to view? 
+If I mistake not, there are two. 
+
+If ke’s one, let me at him drive ! 
+
+He shall not leave the spot alive. 
+
+
+Faust. MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+How from the window of the sacristy 
+Upward th’ eternal lamp sends forth a glimmer, 
+That, lessening side-wards, fainter grows and dimmer, 
+Till darkness closes from the sky ! 
+The shadows thus within my bosom gather. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+I’m like a sentimental tom-cat, rather, 
+
+That round the tall fire-ladders sweeps, 
+
+And stealthy, then, along the coping creeps: 
+Quite virtuous, withal, I come, 
+
+A little thievish and a little frolicsome. 
+
+I feel in every limb the presage 
+
+Forerunning the grand Walpurgis-Night: 
+Day after to-morrow. brings its message, 
+And one keeps watch then with delight. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Meanwhile, may not the treasure risen be, 
+Which there, behind, I glimmering see? 
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Shalt soon experience the pleasure, 
+To lift the kettle with its treasure. 
+VOL. I. 8 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+170 FAUST. 
+
+
+I lately gave therein a squint — 
+Saw splendid lion-dollars in ’t."9 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Not even a jewel, not a ring, 
+To deck therewith my darling girl? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+I saw, among the rest, a thing 
+That seemed to be a chain of pearl. 
+
+
+. FAUST. 
+That’s well, indeed! For painful is it 
+To bring no gift when her I visit. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Thou shouldst not find it so annoying, 
+
+Without return to be enjoying. 
+
+Now, while the sky leads forth its starry throng, 
+Thou ’It hear a masterpiece, no work completer: 
+I'll sing her, first, a moral song, 
+
+The surer, afterwards, to cheat her. 
+
+
+(Sings to the cither.) 
+
+
+What dost thou here'= 
+In daybreak clear, 
+Kathrina dear, 
+
+Before thy lover’s door? 
+Beware! the blade 
+
+Lets in a maid, 
+
+That out a maid 
+Departeth nevermore! 
+
+
+The coaxing shun 
+Of such an one! 
+When once ’t is done 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE XIX. 7% 
+
+
+Good-night to thee, poor thing! 
+
+Love’s time is brief : 
+
+Unto no thief 
+
+Be warm and lief, 
+
+But with the wedding-ring ! 
+
+VALENTINE (comes forward). 
+
+Whom wilt thou lure? God’s-element! 
+Rat-catching piper, thou ! — perdition !** 
+To the Devil, first, the instrument ! 
+To the Devil, then, the curst musician ! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+The cither’s smashed! For nothing more ’t is fitting. 
+
+
+VALENTINE. 
+There’s yet a skull I must be splitting! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (¢o Faust). 
+Sir Doctor, don’t retreat, I pray! 
+Stand by: I'll lead, if youll but tarry: 
+Out with your spit, without delay !' 
+You ’ve but to lunge, and I will parry. 
+
+
+VALENTINE. 
+Then parry that! 
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+Why not? ’t is light. 
+VALENTINE. 
+
+That, too! 
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+Of course. 
+
+
+VALENTINE, 
+
+
+I think the Devil must fight ! 
+How is it, then? my hand’s already lame. 
+
+
+172 FAUST. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (fo Faust). 
+Thrust home! 
+
+
+VALENTINE ( /adls). 
+O God! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Now is the lubber tame! 
+But come, away! ’T is time for us to fly ; 
+For there arises now a murderous cry. 
+With the police ’t were easy to compound it, 
+But here the penal court will sift and sound it. 
+[ Axst with Faust. 
+
+MARTHA (at the window). 
+
+Come out! come out! 
+
+
+MARGARET (at the window). 
+Quick, bring a light! 
+
+
+MARTHA (as adove). 
+They swear and storm, they yell and fight! 
+
+
+PEOPLE. 
+Here lies one dead already — see! 
+
+
+MARTHA (coming from the house). 
+The murderers, whither have they run? 
+
+
+MARGARET (coming out). 
+
+
+Who lies here? 
+PEOPLE. 
+
+
+°T is thy mother’s son! 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+Almighty God! what misery ! 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE XIX. 173 
+
+
+VALENTINE. 
+I’m dying! That is quickly said, 
+And quicker yet ’t is done. 
+Why howl, you women there? Instead, 
+Come here and listen, every one! 
+
+(All gather around him.) 
+
+My Margaret, see! still young thou art, 
+But not the least bit shrewd or smart, 
+Thy business thus to slight: 
+So this advice I bid thee heed — 
+Now that thou art a whore indeed, 
+Why, be one then, outright! 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+My brother! God! such words to me? 
+
+
+VALENTINE. 
+
+
+In this game let our Lord God be! 
+What ’s done ’s already done, alas! 
+What follows it, must come to pass. 
+With one begin’st thou secretly, 
+Then soon will others come to thee, 
+And when a dozen thee have known, 
+Thou ’rt also free to all the town. 
+
+
+When Shame is born and first appears, 
+She is in secret brought to light, 
+
+And then they draw the veil of night 
+
+Over her head and ears; 
+
+Her life, in fact, they ’re loath to spare her. 
+But let her growth and strength display, 
+She walks abroad unveiled by day, 
+
+Yet is not grown a whit the fairer. 
+
+The uglier she is to sight, 
+
+The more she seeks the day’s broad light. 
+
+
+174 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+The time I verily can discern 
+
+When all the honest folk will turn 
+
+From thee, thou jade! and seek protection 
+As from a corpse that breeds infection. 
+Thy guilty heart shall then dismay thee, 
+When they but look thee in the face : — 
+Shalt not in a golden chain array thee, 
+Nor at the altar take thy place! 
+
+Shalt not, in lace and ribbons flowing, 
+Make merry when the dance is going! 
+
+But in some corner, woe betide thee! 
+Among the beggars and cripples hide thee; 
+And so, though even God forgive, 
+
+On earth a damned existence live ! 
+
+
+MARTHA. 
+
+
+Commend your soul to God for pardon, 
+That you your heart with slander harden! 
+
+
+VALENTINE. 
+Thou pimp most infamous, be still! 
+Could I thy withered body kill, 
+’T would bring, for all my sinful pleasure, 
+Forgiveness in the richest measure. 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+My brother! This is Hell’s own pain! 
+
+
+VALENTINE. 
+
+
+I tell thee, from thy tears refrain ! 
+When thou from honor didst depart 
+
+It stabbed me to the very heart. 
+
+New through the slumber of the grave 
+I go to God as a soldier brave. 
+
+
+( Dies.) 
+
+
+i aT ce a aan a a 
+ene 
+
+
+SCENE XX. 175 
+
+
+XX. 
+
+
+CATHEDRAL."3 
+
+
+SERVICE, ORGAN AND ANTHEM. 
+
+
+(MARGARET among much people: the EVIL Spirit dehsnd 
+MARGARET.) 
+
+
+EVIL SPIRIT. 
+
+
+OW otherwise was it, Margaret, 
+When thou, still innocent, 
+Here to the altar cam’st, 
+And from the worn and fingered book 
+Thy prayers didst prattle, 
+Half sport of childhood, 
+Half God within thee ! 
+Margaret ! 
+Where tends thy thought ? 
+Within thy bosom 
+What hidden crime? 
+Pray’st thou for mercy on thy mother’s soul, 
+That fell asleep to long, long torment, and through thee ? 
+Upon thy threshold whose the blood ? 
+And stirreth not and quickens 
+Something beneath thy heart, 
+Thy life disquieting 
+With most foreboding presence ? 
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+Woe! woe! 
+Would I were free from the thoughts 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+£76 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+That cross me, drawing hither and thither, 
+Despite me ! 
+CHORUS. 
+Dies tra, dies illa,™4 
+Solvet seclum in favilla! 
+(Sound of the organ.) 
+
+
+EVIL SPIRIT. 
+
+
+Wrath takes thee ! 
+The trumpet peals ! 
+
+
+‘The graves tremble ! 
+
+
+And thy heart 
+
+From ashy rest 
+
+To fiery torments 
+
+Now again requickened, 
+Throbs to life ! 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+Would I were forth! 
+
+I feel as if the organ here 
+My breath takes from me, 
+My very heart 
+
+Dissolved by the anthem ! 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+
+
+Fudex ergo cum sedebit,s 
+Quidguid latet, adparebit, 
+Nil inultum remanebit. 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+I cannot breathe ! 
+The massy pillars 
+Imprison me! 
+
+The vaulted arches 
+Crush me! — Air! 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE XX. 179 
+
+
+EVIL SPIRIT. 
+Hide thyself! Sin and shame 
+Stay never hidden. 
+Air? Light? 
+Woe to thee! 
+CHORUS. 
+
+
+Quid sum miser tunc dicturus, 
+Quem patronum rogaturus, 
+Cum vix justus sit securus ? 
+
+
+EVIL SPIRIT. 
+
+
+They turn their faces, 
+
+The glorified, from thee : 
+
+The pure, their hands to offer, 
+Shuddering, refuse thee ! 
+Woe! 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+Quid sum miser tunc dicturus ? 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+Neighbor! your cordial ! }77 
+(Ske falls in a swoon.r 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+178 FAUST. 
+
+
+XXI. 
+WALPURGIS-NIGHT.™ 
+
+
+THE HARTZ MOUNTAINS. 
+District of Schierke and Elend. 
+FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES, 
+
+
+OST thou not wish a broomstick-steed’s assistance ? 
+The sturdiest he-goat I would gladly see: 
+The way we take, our goal is yet some distance. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+So long as in my legs I feel the fresh existence, 
+This knotted staff suffices me. 
+
+What need to shorten so the way ? 
+
+Along this labyrinth of vales to wander, 
+
+Then climb the rocky ramparts yonder, 
+Wherefrom the fountain flings eternal spray, . 
+
+Is such delight, my steps would fain delay. 
+
+The spring-time stirs within the fragrant birches, 
+And even the fir-tree feels it now: 
+
+Should then our limbs escape its gentle searches? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+I notice no such thing, I vow! 
+'T is winter still within my body: 
+Upon my path I wish for frost and snow. 
+
+
+SCENE XXJ/. 179 
+
+
+How sadly rises, incomplete and ruddy, 
+
+The moon’s lone disk, with its belated glow,'™ 
+
+And lights so dimly, that, as one advances, 
+
+At every step one strikes a rock or tree ! 
+
+Let us, then, use a Jack-o’-lantern’s glances: 
+
+I see one yonder, burning merrily. 
+
+Ho, there! my friend! I ’ll levy thine attendance: 
+Why waste so vainly thy resplendence ? 
+
+Be kind enough to light us up the steep! 
+
+
+WILL-O’-THE-WISP. 
+My reverence, I hope, will me enable 
+To curb my temperament unstable ; 
+For zigzag courses we are wont to keep. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Indeed? he ’d like mankind to imitate! 
+Now, in the Devil’s name, go straight, 
+Or I'll blow out his being’s flickering spark! 
+
+
+WILL-O’-THE-WISP. 
+
+
+You are the master of the house, I mark, 
+
+And I shall try to serve you nicely. 
+
+But then, reflect: the mountain ’s magic-mad to-day, 
+And if a will-o’-the-wisp must guide you on the way, 
+You must n’t take things too precisely. 
+
+
+FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, WILL-O’-THE-WISP 
+(i alternating song). 
+We, it seems, have entered newly 
+In the sphere of dreams enchanted. 
+Do thy bidding, guide us truly, 
+That our feet be forwards planted 
+In the vast, the desert spaces ! 
+
+
+180 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+See them swiftly changing places, 
+Trees on trees beside us trooping, 
+And the crags above us stooping, 
+And the rocky snouts, outgrowing, — 
+Hear them snoring, hear them blowing !'* 
+O’er the stones, the grasses, flowing 
+Stream and streamlet seek the hollow. 
+Hear I noises? songs that follow? 
+Hear I tender love-petitions ? 
+
+Voices of those heavenly visions? 
+Sounds of hope, of love undying ! 
+And the echoes, like traditions 
+
+Of old days, come faint and hollow. 
+
+
+Hoo-hoo! Shoo-hoo! Nearer hover 
+Jay and screech-owl, and the plover, — 
+Are they all awake and crying ? 
+
+Is ’t the salamander pushes, 
+Bloated-bellied, through the bushes ? 
+And the roots, like serpents twisted, 
+Through the sand and boulders toiling, 
+Fright us, weirdest links uncoiling 
+
+To entrap us, unresisted : 
+
+Living knots and gnarls uncanny 
+
+Feel with polypus-antenne 
+
+For the wanderer. Mice are flying, 
+Thousand-colored, herd-wise hieing 
+Through the moss and through the heather! 
+And the fire-flies wink and darkle, 
+Crowded swarms that soar and sparkle, 
+And in wildering escort gather ! 
+
+
+Tell me, if we still are standing, 
+
+Or if further we ’re ascending ? 
+
+All is turning, whirling, blending, 
+Trees and rocks with grinning faces, 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE XXII. 181 
+
+
+Wandering lights that spin in mazes, 
+Still increasing and expanding ! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Grasp my skirt with heart undaunted ! 
+Here a middle-peak is planted, 
+Whence one seéth, with amaze, 
+Mammon in the mountain blaze. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+How strangely glimmers through the hollows 
+A dreary light, like that of dawn! 
+
+Its exhalation tracks and follows 
+
+The deepest gorges, faint and wan. 
+
+Here steam, there rolling vapor sweepeth ; 
+Here burns the glow through film and haze: 
+Now like a tender thread it creepeth, 
+
+Now like a fountain leaps and plays. 
+
+Here winds away, and in a hundred 
+Divided veins the valley braids : 
+
+There, in a corner pressed and sundered, 
+Itself detaches, spreads and fades. 
+
+Here gush the sparkles incandescent 
+
+Like scattered showers of golden sand ; — 
+But, see! in all their height, at present, 
+The rocky ramparts blazing stand. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Has not Sir Mammon grandly lighted 
+
+His palace for this festal night? 
+
+*T is lucky thou hast seen the sight ; 
+
+The boisterous guests approach that were invited. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+How raves the tempest through the air ! *# 
+With what fierce blows upon my neck ’t is beating! 
+
+
+132 FA OST. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Under the old ribs of the rock retreating, 
+Hold fast, lest thou be hurled down the abysses there! 
+The night with the mist is black; 
+
+Hark! how the forests grind and crack! 
+Frightened, the owlets are scattered : 
+Hearken! the pillars are shattered, 
+
+The evergreen palaces shaking! 
+
+Boughs are groaning and breaking, 
+
+The tree-trunks terribly thunder, 
+
+The roots are twisting asunder ! 
+
+In frightfully intricate crashing 
+
+Each on the other is dashing, 
+
+And over the wreck-strewn gorges 
+
+The tempest whistles and surges! 
+Hear’st thou voices higher ringing? 
+
+Far away, or nearer singing? 
+
+Yes, the mountain’s side along, 
+
+Sweeps an infuriate glamouring song! 
+
+
+WITCHES (in chorus). 
+
+
+The witches ride to the Brocken’s top,'* 
+The stubble is yellow, and green the crop. 
+There gathers the crowd for carnival : 
+
+Sir Urian sits over all. 
+
+And so they go over stone and stock; 
+The witch she ——s, and ——s the buck. 
+
+
+A VOICE. 
+
+
+Alone, old Baubo ’s coming now ; "3 
+She rides upon a farrow-sow. 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+
+
+Then honor to whom the honor is due} 
+Dame Baubo first, to lead the crew! 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE XXI. 183 
+
+
+A tough old sow and the mother thereon, 
+Then follow the witches, every one. 
+
+
+A VOICE, 
+Which way com’st thou hither? 
+
+
+VOICE, 
+O’er the Ilsen-stone. 
+
+
+I peeped at the owl in her nest alone: 
+How she stared and glared! 
+
+
+VOICE. 
+Betake thee to Hell! 
+
+
+Why so fast and so fell? 
+
+
+VOICE. 
+
+
+She has scored and has flayed me: 
+See the wounds she has made me! 
+
+
+WITCHES (chorus). 
+The way is wide, the way is long: 
+See, what a wild and crazy throng! 
+The broom it scratches, the fork it thrusts, 
+The child is stifled, the mother bursts. 
+
+
+WIZARDS (semichorus). 
+As doth the snail in shell, we crawl: 
+Before us go the women all. 
+When towards the Devil’s House we tread, 
+Woman ’s a thousand steps ahead." 
+
+
+OTHER SEMICHORUS. 
+
+
+We do not measure with such care: 
+Woman in thousand steps is there, 
+But howsve’er she hasten may, 
+
+Man in one leap has cleared the way. 
+
+
+
+
+
+FA OST. 
+
+
+VOICE (from above). 
+Come on, come on, from Rocky Lake! 
+
+
+VOICE (from below). 
+Aloft we’d fain ourselves betake. 
+We've washed, and are bright as ever you will, 
+Yet we’re eternally sterile still.*3s 
+
+
+- BOTH CHORUSES. 
+The wind is hushed, the star shoots by, 
+The dreary moon forsakes the sky; 
+The magic notes, like spark on spark, 
+Drizzle, whistling through the dark.?* 
+
+
+VOICE (from below). 
+Halt, there! Ho, there! 
+
+
+VOICE (from above). 
+Who calls from the rocky cleft below there ? 
+
+
+VOICE (below). 
+Take me, too! take me, too! 
+I’m climbing now three hundred years, 
+And yet the summit cannot see: 
+Among my equals I would be. 
+
+
+BOTH CHORUSES. 
+Bears the broom and bears the stock, 
+Bears the fork and bears the buck: 
+Who cannot raise himself to-night 
+Is evermore a ruined wight. 
+
+
+HALF-WITCH (d¢e/ow). 
+
+
+So long I stumble, ill bestead, 
+And the others are now so far ahead! 
+
+
+SCENE XXI, 185 
+
+
+At home I ’ve neither rest nor cheer, 
+And yet I cannot gain them here. 
+
+
+CHORUS OF WITCHES. 
+To cheer the witch will salve avail ; 
+A rag will answer for a sail; 
+Each trough a goodly ship supplies ; 
+He ne’er will fly, who now not flies. 
+
+
+| BOTH CHORUSES. 
+When round the summit whirls our flight, 
+Then lower, and on the ground alight ; 
+And far and wide the heather press 
+With witchhood’s swarms of wantonness ! 
+
+
+( They settle down.) 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+They crowd and push, they roar and clatter! 
+They whirl and whistle, pull and chatter! 
+They shine, and spirt, and stink, and bum! 
+The true witch-element we learn. 
+
+Keep close! or we are parted, in our turn. 
+Where art thou? 
+
+
+FAUST (in the distance). 
+Here! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+What! whirled so far astray! 
+Then house-right I must use, and clear the way. 
+Make room! Squire Voland comes!'3® Room, gentle 
+
+rabble, room! 
+
+Here, Doctor, hold to me: in one jump we ’Il resume 
+An easier space, and from the crowd be free: 
+Jt ’s too much, even for the like of me. 
+
+
+186 FAUST. 
+
+
+Yonder, with special light, there ’s something shining 
+clearer ; 
+
+Within those bushes; I ’ve a mind to see. 
+
+Come on! we ’ll slip a little nearer. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Spirit of Contradiction! On! I "ll follow straight. 
+'T is planned most wisely, if I judge aright: 
+
+We climb the Brocken’s top in the Walpurgis-Night, 
+That arbitrarily, here, ourselves we isolate. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+But see, what motley flames among the heather! 
+There is a lively club together: 
+In smaller circles one is not alone. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Better the summit, I must own: 
+
+There fire and whirling smoke I see. 
+
+They seek the Evil One in wild confusion: 
+Many enigmas there might find solution. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+But there enigmas also knotted be. 
+
+Leave to the multitude their riot! 
+
+Here will we house ourselves in quiet. 
+
+It is an old, transmitted trade, 
+
+That in the greater world the little worlds are made. 
+I see stark-nude young witches congregate, 
+
+And old ones, veiled and hidden shrewdly: 
+
+On my account be kind, nor treat them rudely! 
+The trouble ’s small, the fun is great. 
+
+I hear the noise of instruments attuning, — 
+
+Vile din! yet one must learn to bear the crooning. 
+Come, come along! It mst be, I declare! 
+
+
+SCENE XX1. 187 
+
+
+! "ll go ahead and introduce thee there, 
+
+Thine obligation newly earning. 
+
+That is no little space: what say’st thou, friend ? 
+
+Look yonder ! thou canst scarcely see the end: 
+
+A hundred fires along the ranks are burning. 
+
+They dance, they chat, they cook, they drink, they 
+court : 
+
+Now where, just tell me, is there better sport ? 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Wilt thou, to introduce us to the revel, 
+Assume the part of wizard or of devil? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+I ’m mostly used, ’t is true, to go incognito, 
+But on a gala-day one may his orders show. 
+The Garter does not deck my suit, 
+But honored and at home is here the cloven foot. 
+Perceiv’st thou yonder snail? It cometh, slow and 
+steady ; 
+So delicately its feelers pry, 
+That it hath scented me already : 
+I cannot here disguise me, if I try. 
+But come! we ’ll go from this fire to a newer: 
+I am the go-between, and thou the wooer. 
+
+
+( Zo some, who are sitting around dying embers :) 
+Old gentlemen, why at the outskirts? Enter! 
+I ’d praise you if I found you snugly in the centre, 
+With youth and revel round you like a zone: 
+You each, at home, are quite enough alone. 
+
+
+GENERAL. 
+
+
+Say, who would put his trust in nations, 
+Howe’er for them one may have worked and planned? 
+
+
+188 FAUST. 
+
+
+For with the people, as with women, 
+Youth always has the upper hand. 
+
+
+MINISTER. 
+
+
+They ’re now too far from what is just and sage. 
+I praise the old ones, not unduly: 
+
+When we were all-in-all, then, truly, 
+
+Then was the real golden age. 
+
+
+PARVENU. 
+
+
+We also were not stupid, either, 
+
+And what we should not, often did; 
+
+But now all things have from their bases slid, 
+Just as we meant to hold them fast together. 
+
+
+AUTHOR. 
+
+
+Who, now, a work of moderate sense will read? 
+Such works are held as antiquate and mossy ; 
+And as regards the younger folk, indeed, 
+
+They never yet have been so pert and saucy. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES 
+(who all at once appears very old).*9 
+I feel that men are ripe for Judgment-Day, 
+Now for the last time I ’ve the witches’-hill ascended: 
+Since to the lees my cask is drained away, 
+The world’s, as well, must soon be ended. 
+
+
+HUCKSTER-WITCH. 
+
+
+Ye gentlemen, don’t pass me thus! 
+
+Let not the chance neglected be! 
+
+Behold my wares attentively : 
+
+The stock is rare and various. 
+
+And yet, there ’s nothing I ’ve collected — 
+No shop, on earth, like this you ’Il find !— 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE XX. 189 
+
+
+Which has not, once, sore hurt inflicted 
+
+Upon the world, and on mankind. 
+
+No dagger ’s here, that set not blood to flowing ; 
+No cup, that hath not once, within a healthy frame 
+Poured speedy death, in poison glowing : 
+
+No gems, that have not brought a maid to shame; 
+No sword, but severed ties for the unwary, 
+
+Or from behind struck down the adversary. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Gossip! the times thou badly comprehendest: 
+What ’s done has happed — what haps, is done! 
+*T were better if for novelties thou sendest; 
+
+By such alone can we be won. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Let me not lose myself in all this pother ! 
+This is a fair, as never was another! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+The whirlpool swirls to get above: 
+Thou ’rt shoved thyself, imagining to shove. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+But who is that? 
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Note her especially. 
+’T is Lilith. 
+FAUST. 
+Who? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+Adam’s first wife is she. 
+Beware the lure within her lovely tresses, 
+The splendid sole adornment of her hair! 
+
+
+
+
+
+190 FAUST. 
+
+
+When she succeeds therewith a youth to snare, 
+Not soon again she frees him from her jesses. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Those two, the old one with the young one sitting, 
+They ’ve danced already more than fitting. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+No rest to-night for young or old! 
+They start another dance: come now, let us take hold! 
+
+
+FAUST (dancing with the young witch). 
+A lovely dream once came to me ; *# 
+I then beheld an apple-tree, 
+
+And there two fairest apples shone : 
+They lured me so, I climbed thereon. 
+
+
+THE FAIR ONE. 
+
+
+Apples have been desired by you, 
+Since first in Paradise they grew; 
+And I am moved with joy, to know 
+That such within my garden grow. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (dancing with the old one). 
+A dissolute dream once came to me: 
+Therein I saw a cloven tree, 
+
+Which had a —— —— —; 
+Yet, —— as ’t was, I fancied it. 
+
+
+THE OLD ONE. 
+I offer here my best salute 
+Unto the knight with cloven foot ! 
+Let him a —— —— prepare, 
+If him ——- —— —— does not scare. 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE XX. 19% 
+
+
+PROKTOPHANTASMIST."43 
+Accurséd folk! How dare you venture thus? 
+Had you not, long since, demonstration 
+That ghosts can’t stand on ordinary foundation ? 
+And now you even dance, like one of us! 
+
+
+THE FAIR ONE (dancing). 
+Why does he come, then, to our ball ? 
+
+
+FAUST (dancing). 
+O, everywhere on him you fall ! 
+When others dance, he weighs the matter: 
+If he can’t every step bechatter, 
+Then ’t is the same as were the step not made; 
+But if you forwards go, his ire is most displayed. 
+If you would whirl in regular gyration 
+As he does in his dull old mill, 
+He ’d show, at any rate, good-will, — 
+Especially if you heard and heeded his hortation. 
+
+
+PROKTOPHANTASMIST. 
+You still are here? Nay, ’t is a thing unheard ! 
+Vanish, at once! We've said the enlightening word. 
+The pack of devils by no rules is daunted: 
+We are so wise, and yet is Tegel haunted. 
+To clear the folly out, how have I swept and stirred ! 
+'T will ne’er be clean: why, ’t is a thing unheard ! 
+
+
+THE FAIR ONE. 
+Then cease to bore us at our ball ! 
+
+
+PROKTOPHANTASMIST. 
+I tell you, spirits, to your face, 
+I give to spirit-despotism no place; 
+My spirit cannot practise it at all. 
+
+
+192 FAUST. 
+
+
+( Zhe dance continues.) 
+
+
+Naught will succeed, I see, amid such revels ; 
+Yet something from a tour I always save,™5 
+And hope, before my last step to the grave, 
+To overcome the poets and the devils. 
+
+
+
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+He now will seat him in the nearest puddle ; 
+The solace this, whereof he’s most assured: 
+And when upon his rump the leeches hang and fuddle, 
+He ’ll be of spirits and of Spirit cured. 
+(Zo Faust, who has left the dance :) 
+
+
+Wherefore forsakest thou the lovely maiden, 
+That in the dance so sweetly sang? 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Ah! in the midst of it there sprang 
+A red mouse from her mouth — sufficient reason !*# 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+That ’s nothing! One must not so squeamish be; 
+So the mouse was not gray, enough for thee. 
+Who ’d think of that in love’s selected season ? 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Then saw I — 
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+What? 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Mephisto, seest thou there, 
+Alone and far, a girl most pale and fair? 
+She falters on, her way scarce knowing, 
+As if with fettered feet that stay her going. 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE XX/. 193 
+
+
+I must confess, it seems to me 
+As if my kindly Margaret were she. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Let the thing be! All thence have evil drawn: 
+It is a magic shape, a lifeless eidolon. 
+
+Such to encounter is not good : 
+
+Their blank, set stare benumbs the human blood, 
+And one is almost turned to stone. 
+
+Medusa’s tale to thee is known. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Forsooth, the eyes they are of one whom, dying, 
+No hand with loving pressure closed ; 
+
+That is the breast whereon I once was lying, — 
+The body sweet, beside which I reposed! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+’T is magic all, thou fool, seduced so easily ! 
+Unto each man his love she seems to be. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+The woe, the rapture, so ensnare me, 
+That from her gaze I cannot tear me! 
+And, strange! around her fairest throat 
+A single scarlet band is gleaming, 
+
+No broader than a knife-blade seeming ! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Quite right! The mark I also note. 
+
+Her head beneath her arm she ’l] sometimes Carry; 
+*T was Perseus lopped it, her old adversary. 
+
+Thou crav’st the same illusion still ! 
+
+Come, let us mount this little hill; 
+
+The Prater shows neo livelier stir, '47 
+
+VOL. I. 9 M 
+
+
+394 FA OST. 
+
+
+And, if they ’ve not bewitched my sense, 
+I verily see a theatre. 
+What’s going on? 
+
+
+SERVIBILIS.*# 
+*T will shortly recommence: 
+
+A new performance — ’t is the last of seven. 
+To give that number is the custom here : 
+*T was by a Dilettante written, 
+And Dilettanti in the parts appear. 
+That now I vanish, pardon, I entreat you! 
+As Dilettante I the curtain raise. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+When I upon the Blocksberg meet you, 
+I find it good: for that ’s your proper place 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE XXII. 195 
+
+
+XXIT. 
+
+
+WALPURGIS-NIGHT’S DREAM. 
+OBERON AND TITANIA’S GOLDEN WEDDING." 
+INTERMEZZO. 
+
+
+MANAGER. 
+re S of Mieding, rest to-day ! *» 
+Needless your machinery: 
+Misty vale and mountain gray, 
+
+That is all the scenery. 
+
+
+HERALD. 
+
+
+That the wedding golden be, 
+Must fifty years be rounded: 
+But the Golden give to me, 
+When the strife ’s compounded. 
+
+
+OBERON. 
+Spirits, if you ’re here, be seen — 
+Show yourselves, delighted ! 
+Fairy king and fairy queen, 
+They are newly plighted. 
+
+
+PUCK.'# 
+Cometh Puck, and, light of limb, 
+Whisks and whirls in measure : 
+Come a hundred after him, 
+To share with him the pleasure. 
+
+
+196 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+ARIEL." 
+Ariel’s song is heavenly-pure, 
+His tones are sweet and rare ones: 
+Though ugly faces he allure, 
+Yet he allures the fair ones. 
+
+
+OBERON. 
+
+
+Spouses, who would fain agree, 
+Learn how we were mated ! 
+
+If your pairs would loving be, 
+First be separated ! 
+
+
+TITANIA. 
+If her whims the wife control, 
+And the man berate her, 
+Take him to the Northern Pole, 
+And her to the Equator ! 
+
+
+ORCHESTRA. TUTTI.'3 
+Fortissimo. 
+
+
+Snout of fly, mosquito-bill, 
+
+And kin of all conditions, 
+
+Frog in grass, and cricket-trill, — 
+These are the musicians ! 
+
+
+SOLO.'™4 
+
+
+See the bagpipe on our track! 
+
+*T is the soap-blown bubble: 
+Hear the schnecke-schnicke-schnack 
+Through his nostrils double ! 
+
+
+SPIRIT, JUST GROWING INTO FORM.'SS 
+
+
+Spider’s foot and paunch of toad, 
+And little wings — we know ’em ! 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE XXII. 197 
+
+
+A little creature ’t will not be, 
+But yet, a little poem. 
+
+
+A LITTLE COUPLE.'® 
+
+Little step and lofty leap 
+Through honey-dew and fragrance: 
+You ll never mount the airy steep 
+With all your tripping vagrance. 
+
+INQUISITIVE TRAVELLER."7 
+Is ’t but masquerading play ? 
+See I with precision ? 
+
+
+Oberon, the beauteous fay, 
+Meets, to-night, my vision ! 
+
+
+ORTHODOX.'!* 
+
+
+Not a claw, no tail I see! 
+
+And yet, beyond a cavil, | 
+Like “ the Gods of Greece,” must he 
+Also be a devil. 
+
+
+NORTHERN ARTIST.'® 
+I only seize, with sketchy air, 
+Some outlines of the tourney ; 
+Yet I betimes myself prepare 
+For my Italian journey. 
+
+
+PURIST. 
+
+
+My bad luck brings me here, alas! 
+How roars the orgy louder ! 
+
+And of the witches in the mass, 
+But only two wear powder. 
+
+
+YOUNG WITCH. 
+
+
+Powder becomes, like petticoat, 
+A gray and wrinkled noddy ; 
+
+
+198 FAUST, 
+
+
+So I sit naked on my goat, 
+And show a strapping body. 
+
+
+MATRON. 
+
+
+We’ve too much tact and policy 
+
+To rate with gibes a scolder ; 
+
+Yet, young and tender though you be, 
+I hope to see you moulder. 
+
+
+LEADER OF THE BAND. 
+
+
+Fly-snout and mosquito-bill, 
+
+Don’t swarm so round the Naked ! 
+Frog in grass and cricket-trill, 
+Observe the time, and make it! 
+
+
+WEATHERCOCK (towards one side). 
+Society to one’s desire! 
+Brides only, and the sweetest! 
+And bachelors of youth and fire, 
+And prospects the completest ! 
+
+
+WEATHERCOCK (fowards the other side). 
+And if the Earth don’t open now 
+To swallow up each ranter, 
+
+Why, then will I myself, I vow, 
+Jump into hell instanter ! 
+
+
+XENIES."* 
+Us as little insects see ! 
+With sharpest nippers flitting, 
+That our Papa Satan we 
+May honor as is fitting. 
+
+
+HENNINGS.'@ 
+
+
+How, in crowds together massed, 
+They are jesting, shameless ! 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE XXII. 199 
+
+
+They will even say, at last, 
+That their hearts are blameless. 
+
+
+MUSAGETES. 
+Among this witches’ revelry 
+His way one gladly loses ; 
+And, truly, it would easier be 
+Than to command the Muses. 
+
+
+CI-DEVANT GENIUS OF THE AGE, 
+
+
+The proper folks one’s talents laud: 
+Come on, and none shall pass us! 
+The Blocksberg has a summit broad, 
+Like Germany’s Parnassus. 
+
+
+INQUISITIVE TRAVELLER. 
+Say, who’s the stiff and pompous man? 
+He walks with haughty paces: 
+He snuffles all he snuffle can: 
+“He scents the Jesuits’ traces.” 
+
+
+CRANE. "3 
+
+
+Both clear and muddy streams, for me 
+Are good to fish and sport in: 
+
+And thus the pious man you see 
+
+With even devils consorting. 
+
+
+WORLDLING."™4 
+Yes, for the pious, I suspect, 
+All instruments are fitting ; 
+And on the Blocksberg they erect 
+Full many a place of meeting. 
+
+
+DANCER. 
+
+
+A newer chorus now succeeds ! 
+U hear the distant drumming. 
+
+
+200 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+‘Don’t be disturbed! ’t is, in the reeds, 
+The bittern’s changeless booming.” 
+
+
+DANCING-MASTER. 
+
+
+How each his legs in nimtle trip 
+Lifts up, and makes a clearance! 
+The crooked jump, the heavy skip, 
+Nor care for the appearance. 
+
+
+GOOD FELLOW." 
+The rabble by such hate are held, 
+To maim and slay delights them: 
+As Orpheus’ lyre the brutes compelled, 
+The bagpipe here unites them. 
+
+
+DOGMATIST. 
+I°ll not be led by any lure 
+Of doubts or critic-cavils : 
+The Devil must be something, sure, ~ 
+Or how should there be devils? 
+
+
+IDEALIST.*© 
+This once, the fancy wrought in me 
+Is really too despotic: 
+Forsooth, if I am all I see, 
+
+
+' I must be idiotic ! 
+
+
+REALIST. 
+
+
+This racking fuss on every hand, 
+It gives me great vexation ; 
+
+And, for the first time, here I stand 
+On insecure foundation. 
+
+
+SUPERNATURALIST. 
+
+
+With much delight I see the play, 
+And grant to these their merits, 
+
+
+SCENE XX/]7. 20r 
+
+
+Since from the devils I also may 
+Infer the better spirits. 
+
+
+SCEPTIC.*© 
+
+
+The flame they follow, on and on, 
+And think they ’re near the treasure: 
+But Devil rhymes with Dowd? alone, 
+So I am here with pleasure. 
+
+
+LEADER OF THE BAND. 
+Frog in green, and cricket-trill, 
+Such dilettants ! — perdition ! 
+Fly-snout and mosquito-bill, — 
+Each one’s a fine musician ! 
+
+
+THE ADROIT."® 
+Sanssouct, we call the clan 
+Of merry creatures so, then; 
+Go a-foot no more we can, 
+And on our heads we go, then. 
+
+
+THE AWKWARD. 
+Once many a bit we sponged; but now, 
+God help us! that is done with: 
+Our shoes are all danced out, we trow, 
+We ’ve but naked soles to run with. 
+
+
+WILL-0O’-THE-WISPS.,'9 
+From the marshes we appear, 
+Where we originated ; 
+Yet in the ranks, at once, we ’re here 
+As glittering gallants rated. 
+
+
+SHOOTING-STAR. 
+Darting hither from the sky, 
+In star and fire light shooting, 
+Q* 
+
+
+202 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Cross-wise now in grass I lie: 
+Who ’ll help me to my footing? 
+
+
+THE HEAVY FELLOWS. 
+Room! and round about us, room t 
+Trodden are the grasses: 
+
+Spirits also, spirits come, 
+And they are bulky masses. 
+
+
+PUCK. 
+Enter not so stall-fed quite, 
+Like elephant-calves about one! 
+And the heaviest weight to-night 
+Be Puck, himself, the stout one! 
+
+
+ARIEL. 
+
+
+If loving Nature at your back, 
+Or Mind, the wings uncloses, 
+Follow up my airy track 
+
+To the mount of roses! 
+
+
+ORCHESTRA. 
+Pianisssmo. 
+Cloud and trailing mist o’erhead 
+Are now illuminated: 
+Air in leaves, and wind in reed, 
+And all is dissipated.'” 
+
+
+SCENE XXII. 203 
+
+
+XXIII. 
+
+
+DREARY DAY.'# 
+A FIELD. 
+FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+N misery! In despair! Long wretchedly astray on 
+
+the face of the earth, and now imprisoned! That 
+gracious, illstarred creature shut in a dungeon as a 
+criminal, and given up to fearful torments! To this 
+has it come! to this ! — Treacherous, contemptible spir- 
+it, and thou hast concealed it from me! — Stand, then, 
+—stand! Roll the devilish eyes wrathfully in thy head! 
+Stand and defy me with thine intolerable presence! 
+Imprisoned! In irretrievable misery! Delivered up 
+to evil spirits, and to condemning, unfeeling Man! And 
+thou hast lulled me, meanwhile, with the most insipid 
+dissipations, hast concealed from me her increasing 
+wretchedness, and suffered her to go helplessly to ruin! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+She is not the first. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Dog! Abominable monster! Transform him, thou 
+Infinite Spirit! transform the reptile again into his dog- 
+shape, in which it pleased him often at night to scamper 
+on before me, to roll himself at the feet of the unsus- — 
+
+
+204 FAUST. 
+
+
+pecting wanderer, and hang upon his shoulders when 
+he fell! Transform him again into his favorite likeness, 
+that he may crawl upon his belly in the dust before me, 
+—that I may trample him, the outlawed, under foot! 
+Not the first! O woe! woe which no human soul can 
+grasp, that more than one being should sink into the 
+depths of this misery, —that the first, in its writhing 
+death-agony under the eyes of the Eternal Forgiver, did 
+not expiate the guilt of all others! The misery of this 
+single one pierces to the very marrow of my life; and 
+thou art calmly grinning at the fate of thousands! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Now we are already again at the end of our wits, 
+where the understanding of you men runs wild. Why 
+didst thou enter into fellowship with us, if thou canst 
+not carry it out? Wilt fly, and art not secure against 
+dizziness? Did we thrust ourselves upon thee, or thou 
+thyself upon us? 
+
+FAUST. 
+
+Gnash not thus thy devouring teeth at me! It fills 
+me with horrible disgust. Mighty, glorious Spirit, who 
+hast vouchsafed to me Thine apparition, who knowest 
+my heart and my soul, why fetter me to the felon-com- 
+rade, who feeds on mischief and gluts himself with 
+ruin ? 
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+Hast thou done? 
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Rescue her, or woe to thee! The fearfullest curse 
+be upon thee for thousands of ages ! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+I cannot loosen the bonds of the Avenger, nor unde 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE XXIII. 205 
+
+
+his bolts. Rescue her? Who was it that plunged her 
+into ruin? I, or thou? 
+(Faust looks around wildly.) 
+
+Wilt thou grasp the thunder? Well, that it has not 
+been given to you, miserable mortals! To crush to 
+pieces the innocent respondent —that is the tyrant- 
+fashion of relieving one’s self in embarrassments. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Take me thither! She shall be free! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+And the danger to which thou wilt expose thyself? 
+Know that the guilt of blood, from thy hand, still lies 
+upon the town! Avenging spirits hover over the spot 
+where the victim fell, and lie in wait for the returning 
+murderer. 
+
+FAUST. 
+
+That, too, from thee? Murder and death of a world 
+upon thee, monster! Take me thither, I say, and lib- 
+erate her! 
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+I will convey thee there; and hear, what I can do! 
+Have I all the power in Heaven and on Earth? I will 
+becloud the jailer’s senses: get possession of the key, 
+and lead her forth with human hand! I will keep 
+watch: the magic steeds are ready, I will carry you off. 
+So much is in my power. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Up and away! 
+
+
+206 FAUST. 
+
+
+XXIV. 
+
+
+NIGHT. 
+OPEN FIELD.'*72 
+
+
+(FAUST and MEPHISTOPHELES speeding omward on black 
+horses.) 
+FAUST. 
+
+\ K J HAT weave they there round the raven-stone ? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+I know not what they are brewing and doing. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Soaring up, sweeping down, bowing and bending! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+A witches’-guild. 
+FAUST. 
+They scatter, devote and doom! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+On! on! 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE XXV. 207 
+
+
+XXV. 
+DUNGEON. 
+
+
+FAUST 
+(with a bunch of keys and a lamp, before an tron door). 
+
+
+A SHUDDER, long unfelt, comes o’er me: 
+Mankind’s collected woe o’erwhelms me, here. 
+She dwells within the dark, damp walls before me, 
+And all her crime was a delusion dear! 
+
+What! I delay to free her? 
+
+I dread, once again to see her? 
+
+On! my shrinking but lingers Death more near. 
+
+
+(He grasps the lock: the sound of singing ts heard inside.) 
+
+
+My mother, the harlot,%73 
+
+Who put me to death ; 
+
+My father, the varilet, 
+
+Who eaten me hath / 
+
+Little sister, so good, 
+
+Laid my bones in the wood, 
+
+In the damp moss and clay: 
+
+Then was I a beautiful bird o the wood; 
+Fly away! Fly away! 
+
+
+FAUST (unlocking), 
+
+
+She does not dream her lover listens near; 
+That he the rattling chain, the rustling straw, can hear. 
+
+
+(He enters.) 
+
+
+208 FAUST. 
+
+
+MARGARET (Asding herself on the pallet). 
+Woe! woe! They come. O death of bitterness! 
+
+
+FAUST (whispering). 
+Hush! hush! The hour is come that frees thee. 
+
+
+MARGARET (throwing herself before him). 
+Art thou a man, then pity my distress! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Thy cries will wake the guards, and they will seize thee ! 
+(He takes hold of the fetters to unlock them.) 
+
+
+MARGARET (on her knees). 
+
+
+Who, headsman! unto thee such power 
+
+Over me could give ? 
+
+Thou ’rt come for me at midnight-hour : 
+
+Have mercy on me, let me live ! 
+
+Is ’t not soon enough when morning chime has rung? 
+
+
+(Ske rises.) 
+
+
+And I am yet so young, so young ! 
+
+And now Death comes, and ruin! 
+
+I, too, was fair, and that was my undoing. 
+
+My love was near, but now he ’s far; 
+
+Torn lies the wreath, scattered the blossoms are. 
+Seize me not thus so violently ! 
+
+Spare me! What have I done to thee? 
+
+Let me not vainly entreat thee! 
+
+I never chanced, in all my days, to meet thee ! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Shall I outlive this misery ? 
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE XXV, 209 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+Now am I wholly in thy might. 
+
+But let me suckle, first, my baby ! 
+
+I blissed it all this livelong night ; 
+
+They took ’t away, to vex me, maybe, 
+
+And now they say I killed the child outright. 
+
+And never shall I be glad again. 
+
+They sing songs about me! ’tis bad of the folk to doit! 
+There ’s an old story has the same refrain ; 
+
+Who bade them so construe it? 
+
+
+FAUST ( falling upon his knees). 
+Here lieth one who loves thee ever, 
+The thraldom of thy woe to sever. 
+
+
+MARGARET ( flinging herself beside him). 
+O let us kneel, and call the Saints to hide us! 
+Under the steps beside us, 
+The threshold under, 
+Hell heaves in thunder ! 
+The Evil One 
+With terrible wrath 
+Seeketh a path 
+His prey to discover! 
+
+
+FAUST (aloud). 
+Margaret! Margaret ! 
+MARGARET (attentively listening). 
+That was the voice of my lover! 
+(She springs to her feet: the fetters fall off.) 
+
+
+Where is he? I heard him call me. 
+lam free! No one shall enthral]] me. 
+
+
+210 FAUST. 
+
+
+To his neck will I fly, 
+
+On his bosom lie! 
+
+On the threshoid he stood, and Margaret / calling, 
+Midst of Hell’s howling and noises appalling, 
+Midst of the wrathful, infernal derision, 
+
+I knew the sweet sound of the voice of the vision! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+°T is I! 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+*T is thou! O, say it once again! 
+(Clasping hiss.) 
+?T is he! ’t is he! Where now is all my pain? 
+The anguish of the dungeon, and the chain ? 
+>T is thou! Thou comest to save me, 
+And I am saved ! — 
+Again the street I see 
+Where first I looked on thee ; 
+And the garden, brightly blooming, 
+Where I and Martha wait thy coming. 
+
+
+FAUST (strugpling to leave). 
+Come! Come with me! 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+Delay, now! 
+So fain I stay, when thou delayest ! 
+
+
+(Caressing Ain.) 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Away, now! 
+If longer here thou stayest, 
+We shall be made to dearly rue it. 
+
+
+SCENE XXV. 2I1r 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+Kiss me ! — canst no longer do it? 
+My friend, so short a time thou ’rt missing, 
+And hast unlearned thy kissing ? 
+Why is my heart so anxious, on thy breast? 
+Where once a heaven thy glances did create me, 
+A heaven thy loving words expressed, 
+And thou didst kiss, as thou wouldst suffocate me — 
+Kiss me ! 
+Or I ’ll kiss thee! 
+
+(She encbvraces him.) 
+
+
+Ah, woe! thy lips are chill, 
+And still. 
+
+How changed in fashion 
+Thy passion ! 
+
+Who has done me this ill? 
+
+
+(She turns away from him.) 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Come, follow me! My darling, be more bold: 
+I ll clasp thee, soon, with warmth a thousand-fold ; 
+But follow now! ’T is all I beg of thee. 
+
+
+MARGARET (turning to him). 
+And is it thou? Thou, surely, certainly ? 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+'T ig I! Come on! 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+Thou wilt unloose my chain, 
+And in thy lap wilt take me once again. 
+How comes it that thou dost not shrink from me ? — 
+Say, dost thou know, my friend. whom thou mak’st free? 
+
+
+212 FAUST. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Come! come! The night already vanisheth. 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+My mother have I put to death ; 
+
+I ’ve drowned the baby born to thee. 
+
+Was it not given to thee and me? 
+
+Thee, too!—’T is thou! It scarcely true doth seem — 
+Give me thy hand! ’T is not a dream! 
+Thy dear, dear hand ! — But, ah, ’t is wet! 
+Why, wipe it off! Methinks that yet 
+There ’s blood thereon. 
+
+Ah, God! what hast thou done? 
+
+Nay, sheathe thy sword at last! 
+
+Do not affray me! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+O, let the past be past! 
+Thy words will slay me! 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+No, no! Thou must outlive us. 
+
+Now Ill tell thee the graves to give us: 
+Thou must begin to-morrow 
+
+The work of sorrow ! 
+
+The best place give to my mother, 
+
+Then close at her side my brother, 
+
+And me a little away, 
+
+But not too very far, I pray ! 
+
+And here, on my right breast, my baby lay! 
+Nobody else will lie beside me! — 
+
+Ah, within thine arms to hide me, 
+
+That was a sweet and a gracious bliss, 
+
+But no more, no more can I attain it! 
+
+I would force myself on thee and constrain it, 
+
+
+SCENE XXYV. 213 
+
+
+And it seems thou repellest my kiss: 
+And yet ’t is thou, so good, so kind to see! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+If thou feel’st it is I, then come with me! 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+Out yonder ? 
+FAUST. 
+To freedom. 
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+If the grave is there, 
+Death lying in wait, then come! 
+From here to eternal rest: 
+No further step — no, no! 
+Thou goest away! O Henry, if I could go! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Thou canst! Just will it! Open stands the door. 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+I dare not go: there ’s no hope any more. 
+
+Why should I fly? They'll still my steps waylay ! 
+It is so wretched, forced to beg my living, 
+
+And a bad conscience sharper misery giving ! 
+
+It is so wretched, to be strange, forsaken, 
+
+And I'd still be followed and taken ! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+I ’ll stay with thee. 
+MARGARET. 
+Be quick! Be quick! 
+Save thy perishing child ! 
+Away! Follow the ridge 
+
+
+214 FAUST. 
+
+
+Up by the brook, 
+
+Over the bridge, 
+
+Into the wood, 
+
+To the left, where the plank is placed 
+In the pool! 
+
+Seize it in haste! 
+
+’T is trying to rise, 
+
+*T is struggling still ! 
+
+Save it! Save it! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Recall thy wandering will ! 
+One step, and thou art free at last! 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+If the mountain we had only passed ! 
+
+There sits my mother upon a stone, — 
+
+I feel an icy shiver ! 
+
+There sits my mother upon a stone, 
+
+And her head is wagging ever. 
+
+She beckons, she nods not, her heavy head falls o’er ; 
+She slept so long that she wakes no more. 
+
+She slept, while we were caressing : 
+
+Ah, those were the days of blessing! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Here words and prayers are nothing worth ; 
+Ill venture, then, to bear thee forth. 
+
+
+MARGARET. 7 
+
+
+No—let me go! Ill suffer no force! 
+Grasp me not so murderously ! 
+I ’ve done, else, all things for the love of thee. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+The day dawns: Dearest! Dearest! 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE XXV. 215 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+Day? Yes, the day comes, — the last day breaks for me! 
+My wedding-day it was to be ! '74 
+
+Tell no one thou has been with Margaret ! 
+Woe for my garland! The chances 
+
+Are over — ’t is all in vain! 
+
+We shall meet once again, 
+
+But not at the dances! 
+
+The crowd is thronging, no word is spoken : 
+The square below 
+
+And the streets overflow : 
+
+The death-bell tolls, the wand is broken. 
+
+I am seized, and bound, and delivered — 
+Shoved to the block — they give the sign! 
+Now over each neck has quivered 
+
+The blade that is quivering over mine. 
+Dumb lies the world like the grave! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+O had I ne’er been born ! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (appears outside). 
+Off! or you ’re lost ere morn. 
+Useless talking, delaying and praying ! 
+My horses are neighing : 
+The morning twilight is near. 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+What rises up from the threshold here ? 
+He! he! suffer him not! 
+
+What does he want in this holy spot ? 
+He seeks me! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Thou shalt live. 
+
+
+216 FAUST. 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+Judgment of God! myself to thee I give. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (fo Faust). 
+Come! or I ’ll leave her in the lurch, and thee! 
+
+
+MARGARET. 
+
+
+Thine am I, Father! rescue me! 
+
+Ye angels, holy cohorts, guard me,"75 
+Camp around, and from evil ward me! 
+Henry! I shudder to think of thee. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+She is judged !1%6 
+
+
+VOICE { from above). 
+She is saved ! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (fo FAUST.) 
+Hither to me! 
+
+
+(He disappears with Faust ) 
+
+
+VOICE (from within, dying away). 
+Henry! Henry! 
+
+
+
+
+
+AKL LO 
+
+
+NOTES. 
+
+
+Denn bei den alten lieben Todten 
+Braucht man Erklarung, will man Noten ; 
+Die Neuen glaubt man blank zu verstehn, 
+Doch ohne Dolmetsch wird’s auch nicht gehn. 
+GorTHE 
+
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION. 
+
+
+oa 
+
+
+N a work which has been the subject of such extensive 
+
+and continual comment, the passages which seem to re- 
+quire elucidation have, for the most part, been already de- 
+termined. At every point where the reader is supposed to 
+be doubtful in regard to the true path, not one, but a score 
+of tracks has been prepared for him. From the exhaustive 
+and somewhat wearisome work of Diintzer to the latest crit- 
+ical essay which has issued from the German press, the ref- 
+erences in the text to contemporary events or fashions of 
+thought have been detected ; the words of old or new coin- 
+age have been tested and classified ; and the obscure pas- 
+sages have received such a variety of interpretation, that 
+they finally grow clear again by the force of contrast. 
+
+My first intention was, to give the substance of German 
+criticism concerning both parts of Faust; but the further I 
+advanced, the more unprofitable appeared such a plan. The 
+work itself grew in clearness and coherence in proportion as 
+I withdrew from the cloudy atmosphere of its interpreters. 
+I have examined every commentary of importance, from 
+Schubarth (1820) and Hinrichs (1825) to Kreyssig (1866), 
+with this advantage, at least, — that each and all have led 
+me back to find in the author of Faust his own best com- 
+mentator. After making acquaintance, sometimes at the 
+
+
+
+
+
+220 FAUST. 
+
+
+cost of much patience, with the theories of many sincere 
+though self-asserting minds, and ascertaining what marvel- 
+lous webs of meaning may be spun by the critic around a 
+point of thought, simple enough in its poetical sense, I have 
+always returned to Goethe’s other works, to his correspond- 
+ence (especially with Schiller and Zelter) and his conver- 
+sations, sure of gaining new light and refreshment.* 
+
+I should only confuse the reader by attempting to set forth 
+all the forms of intellectual, ethical, or theological signifi- 
+cance which have been attached to the characters of Faust. 
+The intention of the work, reduced to its simplest element, 
+is easily grasped ; but if every true poet builds larger than 
+he knows, this drama, completed by the slow accretion of 
+sixty years of thought, may be assumed to have a vaster 
+background of design, change, and reference than almost 
+anything else in Literature. Like an old Gothic pile, its 
+outline is sometimes obscured in a labyrinth of details, 
+While, in the Notes which succeed, it will now and then be 
+Necessary for me to give the conflicting interpretations, I 
+shall endeavor to wander from the text as little as possible, 
+and, even when dealing with enigmas, to keep open a way 
+past, if not through them. The embarrassing abundance 
+of the material is somewhat diminished for me by the omis- 
+sion of all technical or philological criticism, and my chief 
+task will be to distinguish between those helps which all 
+
+
+* I am glad to find that this method, drawn from my own experience, is 
+substantially confirmed by Mr. Lewes, who, in his Li/e of Goethe (Book 
+VI.), says: “Critics usually devote their whole attention to an exposi- 
+tion of the Idea of Faust; and it seems to me that in this laborious 
+esearch after a remote explanation they have overlooked the more obvious 
+and natural explanation furnished by the work itself The reader who 
+has followed me thus far will be aware that I have little sympathy with 
+that Philosophy of Art which consists in translating Art into Philosophy, 
+and that I trouble myself, and him, very little with ‘ considerations on the 
+Idea.’ Experience tells me that the Artists themselves had quite other 
+objects in view than that of developing an Idea; and experience further 
+says that the Artist’s public is by no means primarily anxious about the 
+Idea, but leaves it entirely to the critics, — who cannot agree upon the 
+point among themselves.” 
+
+
+NOTES. Bae 
+
+
+readers require and the points which are interesting only to 
+special students of the work. 
+
+In many instances, I have simply illustrated the text 
+. by parallel passages. Where I have discovered these, in 
+Goethe’s works or correspondence, they have often been of 
+service in suggesting (in the absence of any direct evidence) 
+the probable time when certain scenes were written, and 
+thereby the interests or influences which may have then 
+swayed the author’s mind. The variation in tone between 
+different parts of the work, though sometimes very delicate, 
+is always perceptible ; and the reader to whom the original 
+is an unknown tongue needs all the side-lights which can be 
+thrown upon its translated forms. 
+
+The “ Paralipomena” (Supplementary Fragments) to Faust 
+nave not heretofore been given by any English translator. 
+Yet in a work of such importance we may also learn from 
+what the author has omitted, not less than from what he 
+has accepted. The variations made in his original design 
+assist us to a clearer comprehension of the design itself I 
+consider, therefore, that the passages of the “‘ Paralipomena”’ 
+have, properly, the character of explanatory notes ; and for 
+this reason I have inserted each, as nearly as possible, in its 
+appropriate place, instead of giving them in a body, as in 
+the standard German edition of Goethe. 
+
+Perhaps the most satisfactory commentary on Faust would 
+be a biography of Goethe, written with special reference to 
+this one work. In the Chronology of Faust (Appendix IT.) 
+I have given such particulars as are necessary to the illus- 
+tration of its interrupted yet life-long growth. It has not 
+been found possible to combine the Notes and the Chro- 
+nology without confusing the material; yet the two should 
+be taken as parallel explanations, which the reader needs to 
+follow at the same time. In conclusion, let me beg him not 
+to be discouraged, if, on the first reading, the meaning of 
+some passages, and their significance as portions of an * in- 
+commensurable” plan,—as Goethe himself characterized 
+it, —should not be entirely clear. When he has become 
+
+
+222 FAUST. 
+
+
+familiar with the history of the work, and is able to overlook 
+it as a whole, the fitness — or the unfitness— of the multi- 
+tude of parts becomes gradually evident; the compressed 
+meanings expand into breadth and distinctness; and even 
+those enigmas which seem to defy an ultimate analysis will 
+charm him by dissolving into new ones, or by showing him 
+forms of thought which fade and change as he seeks to re- 
+tain them. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 
+
+
+ese 
+
+
+I. DEDICATION. 
+
+
+The Dedication was certainly not written earlier than the 
+year 1797, when Goethe, encouraged by Schiller’s hearty in- 
+terest in the work, determined to complete the “ Fragment ” 
+of the First Part of Faust, published in 1790. Twenty-four 
+years had therefore elapsed since the first scenes of the work 
+were written: the poet was forty-eight years old, and the 
+conceptions which had haunted him in his twenty-first year 
+seemed already to belong to a dim and remote Past The 
+shadowy forms of the drama, which he again attempts to 
+seize and hold, bring with them the phantoms of the friends 
+to whom his earliest songs were sung. Of these friends, his 
+sister Cornelia, Merck, Lenz, Basedow, and Gotter were 
+dead ; Klopstock, Lavater, and the Stolbergs were estranged ; 
+and Jacobi, Klinger, Kestner, and others were separated 
+from him by the circumstances of their lives. Gotter died 
+in March, 1797, and, as it is evident from Goethe’s letters 
+to Schiller that he worked upon Faust only in the months 
+of May and June, in that year, the Dedication was probably 
+then written. 
+
+Nothing of Goethe has been more frequently translated 
+than these four stanzas, — and nothing, I may add, is more 
+difficult to the translator. 
+
+
+224 FAUST. 
+
+
+2. PRELUDE ON THE STAGE. 
+
+
+I am unable to ascertain precisely when this was written: 
+from Goethe’s correspondence, some inferences, which point 
+to the year 1798, may be drawn. It is unnecessary to follow 
+the critics in their philosophical analyses of this prelude, 
+which is sufficiently explained by calling it a “ poetic pref- 
+ace” to the work. Gdéschen’s edition of Goethe’s works, in 
+1790, had not been a successful venture: the “ Fragmeut ” 
+of Faust, although fully appreciated by the few, seemed to 
+have made no impression upon the public, while it had been 
+assailed and ridiculed by the author’s many literary enemies. 
+Goethe always published his poetical works without’ a pref- 
+ace; but in the “ Prelude on the Stage”’ he makes use of 
+the characters to contrast the Poet’s purest activity with the 
+tastes and desires of the Public, two classes of which are 
+represented by the Manager and Merry-Andrew. The dia- 
+logue indicates, in advance, the various elements — imagina- 
+tion, fancy, shrewd experience, folly, and ‘‘ dramatic non- 
+sense ” — which will be woven into the work. At the same 
+time, it indirectly admits and accounts for the author’s un- 
+popularity, and the lack of recognition which he still antici- 
+pates. 
+
+
+3. The posts are set, the booth of boards completed. 
+
+
+The “booth of boards” purposely refers to the rude, 
+transportable puppet theatres in which Goethe first saw 
+Faust represented. There is already a foreshadowing of 
+some of the qualities of Faust and Mephistopheles in the 
+Poet and Manager. 
+
+
+4. They come to look, and they prefer to stare. 
+
+Goethe writes, in 1802 (‘‘ Wermarisches Hoftheater”) : “One 
+can show the public no greater respect than in forbearing to 
+treat itasamob. The mob hurry unprepared to the theatre, 
+demand that which may be immediately enjoyed, desire to 
+stare, be amazed, laugh, weep, and therefore compel the 
+managers, who are dependent on them, to descend more or 
+ss to their level.” 
+
+
+NOTES. 225 
+
+
+5 Who offers much, brings something unto many. 
+“One should give his works the greatest possible variety 
+and excellence, so that each reader may be able to select 
+something for himself, and thus, in his own way, become a 
+participant.” — Goethe to Schiller (1798). 
+
+
+6. This, aged Strs, belongs to you. 
+
+It is the Poets whom the Merry-Andrew thus addresses. 
+His assertion of the perpetual youth of Genius is not ironi- 
+cal, but (as appears from the Manager’s remarks) is intended 
+as a compliment. 
+
+“To carry on the feelings of childhood into the powers of 
+manhood, to combine the child’s sense of wonder and nov- 
+eity with the appearances which every day, for perhaps forty 
+years, had rendered familiar, — 
+
+
+* Both sun and moon, and stars throughout the year, 
+And man and woman,’ — 
+
+
+this is the character and privilege of genius, and one of the 
+marks which distinguish genius from talent.” — Coleridge. 
+
+
+7. From Heaven, across the World, to Hell. 
+
+
+Goethe says to Eckermann (in 1827): “ People come and 
+ask, what idea I have embodied in my Faust? Asif I knew, 
+myself, and could express it! ‘roms Heaven, across the 
+World, to Hell’ —that might answer, if need were; but it 
+is not an idea, only the course of the action.” 
+
+The reference in this line, curiously enough, is to the 
+course of action in the old Faust-Legend, not to the close of 
+the Second Part, the scene of which is laid in Heaven, in- 
+stead of Hell. Yet at the time when the line was written 
+the project of the Second Part —in outline, at least — was 
+completed. Did Goethe simply intend to keep his secret 
+from the reader? 
+
+
+& PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN. 
+
+
+Some of Goethe’s commentators suppose that this Pro- 
+logue was added by him, from the circumstance that the 
+10 * Oo 
+
+
+226 FAUST. 
+
+
+design of Faust was not understood, in the “ Fragment ”’ first 
+published. It appears to have been written in June, 1797, 
+before the “ Prelude on the Stage,” and chiefly for the pur- 
+pose of setting forth the moral and intellectual problem 
+which underlies the drama. Although possibly suggested 
+vy the Prologue in Hell of two of the puppet-plays, its 
+character is evidently drawn from the interviews of Satan 
+with the Lord, in the first and second chapters of Job. 
+Upon this point, Goethe (in 1825) said to Eckermann: 
+‘‘My Mephistopheles sings a song of Shakespeare ; and why 
+should he not? Why should I give myself the trouble to 
+compose a new song, when Shakespeare’s was just the right 
+one, saying exactly what was necessary? If, therefore, the 
+scheme of my Faust has some resemblance to that of Job, 
+that is also quite right, and I should be praised rather than 
+c~nsured on account of it.” 
+
+The earnest reader will require no explanation of the 
+problem propounded in the Prologue. Goethe states it 
+without obscurity, and solves it in no uncertain terms at 
+the close of the Second Part. The mocking irreverence of 
+Mephistopheles, in the presence of the Lord, although it 
+belongs to the character which he plays throughout, seems 
+to have given some difficulty to the early English transla- 
+tors. Lord Leveson Gower terminates the Prologue with the 
+Chant of the Archangels; Mr. Blackie omits it entirely, but 
+adds it in an emasculated form, as an Appendix ; while Dr. 
+Anster satisfies his spirit of reverence by printing DER HERR 
+where the English text requires, ‘“‘The Lord.” Coleridge’s 
+charge of “blasphemy” evidently refers to this Prologue ; 
+but at the time when he made the charge, Coleridge was 
+hardly capable of appreciating the spirit in which Faust was 
+written. 
+
+It is very clear, from hints which Goethe let fall, that he 
+at one time contemplated the introduction into Faust of the 
+doctrine ascribed to Origen, — that it was possible for Satan 
+to repent and be restored to his former place as an angel of 
+light. Falk reports Goethe as saying: ‘“ Yet even the clever 
+Madame de Staél was greatly scandalized that I kept the 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 227 
+
+
+devil in such good-humor. In the presence of God the 
+Father, she insisted upon it, he ought to be more grim and 
+spiteful. What will she say if she sees him promoted a sten 
+higher, — nay, perhaps, meets him in heaven?” On another 
+occasion, he exclaimed (if we may trust Falk): ‘“‘ At bottom, 
+the most of us do not know how either to love or to hute. 
+They ‘don’t like’ me! An insipid phrase!—JI don’t like 
+them either. Especially when, after my death, my Walpur- 
+gis-Sack comes to be opened, and all the tormenting Stygian 
+spirits, imprisoned until then, shall be let loose to plague all 
+even as they plagued me ; or if, in the continuation of Faust, 
+they should happen to come upon a passage where the 
+Devil himself receives Grace and Mercy from God, — that. 
+I should say, they would not soon forgive !” 
+
+
+9. CHANT OF THE ARCHANGELS. 
+
+
+The three Archangels advance in the order of their dignity, 
+as it is given in the “Celestial Hierarchy” of Dionysius 
+Areopagita; who was also Dante’s authority on this point 
+(Paradiso, Canto XXVIII). Raphael, the inferior, com- 
+mences, and Michael, the chief, closes the chant. 
+
+Shelley speaks of this “astonishing chorus,” and very 
+truly says: “It is impossible to represent in another lan- 
+guage the melody of the versification: even the volatile 
+strength and delicacy of the ideas escape in the crucible of 
+translation, and the reader is surprised to find a caput mor 
+tuum.” 
+
+I shall not, however, imitate Shelley in adding a litera} 
+translation. Here, more than in almost any other poem, 
+the words acquire a new and indescribable power from their 
+rhythmical collocation. The vast, wonderful atmosphere of 
+space which envelops the lines could not be retained in 
+prose, however admirably literal. The movement of the 
+original is as important as its meaning. Shelley’s transla- 
+tion of the stanzas, however, is preferable to Hayward's, 
+which contains five inaccuracies. 
+
+The magnificent word Donnergang — ‘“‘ thunder-march” 
+
+
+228 FAUST. 
+
+
+(first stanza, fourth line)—had already occurred in a fine 
+line of one of Schiller’s earliest poems, — “ Elysium” :— 
+
+
+** Berge bebten unter dessen Donnergang.”’ 
+
+
+10. Pardon, this troop I cannot follow after. 
+
+
+Mephistopheles here refers to the Chant of the Archan- 
+gels. His mocking spirit is at once manifested in these 
+lines, and in his ironical repetition of ‘‘ the earliest day.” 
+
+
+11. While Man’s desires and aspirations stir, 
+He cannot choose but err. 
+
+
+The original of this is the single, weil-known line: Zs srvvt 
+der Mensch, so lang er strebt. It has seemed to me impossi- 
+ble to give the full meaning of these words — that error is a 
+natural accompaniment of the struggles and aspirations of 
+Man—in a single line. Here, as in a few other places, I do 
+not feel bouad to confine myself to the exact measure and 
+limit of the original. The reader may be interested in com- 
+paring some other versions : — 
+
+HAYWARD. — Man is liable to error, while his struggle 
+lasts. 
+
+ANSTER. — Man’s hour on Earth is weakness, error, strife. 
+
+Brooks. — Man errs and staggers from his birth. 
+
+SWANWICK. — Man, while he striveth, is prone to err. 
+
+BLACKIE. — Man must still err, so long he strives. 
+
+MARTIN. — Man, while his struggle lasts, is prone to stray. 
+
+BERESFORD. — Man errs as long as lasts his strife. 
+
+BIRCH. — Man ’s prone to err in acquisition. (!) 
+
+BLaze. — L’homme s’égare, tant qu’il cherche son but. 
+
+
+12, A good man, through obscurest aspiration, 
+Has still an instinct of the one true way. 
+
+In these lines the direction of the plot is indicated. They 
+suggest, in advance, its moral dénouement, at the close of 
+the Second Part. Goethe, on one occasion, compared the 
+“ Prologue in Heaven” to the overture of Mozart’s Don 
+Giovanni, in which a certain musical phrase occurs which is 
+
+
+NOTES. 229 
+
+
+not repeated until the fale; and his comparison had refer- 
+ence to the idea expressed in these lines. 
+
+
+13. But ye, God's sons in love and duty. 
+
+Here the Lord, turning away from Mephistopheles, sud- 
+denly addresses the Archangels and the Heavenly Hosts. 
+The expression Das Werdende, in the third following line, 
+which I have translated ‘ Creative Power,” means, literally, 
+“that which is developing into being.”’ Shelley, who was 
+not, and did not pretend to be, a good German scholar, en- 
+tirely misses the meaning of the closing quatrain, notwith- 
+standing he avoids the rhymed translation. His lines, 
+
+* Let that which ever operates and lives 
+Clasp you within the limits of its love ; 
+
+
+And seize with sweet and melancholy thought 
+The floating phantoms of its loveliness,” 
+
+
+have nothing of the suggestive force and fulness of the origi- 
+nal. 
+
+Hayward quotes, apparently from a private letter, Carlyle’s 
+interpretation of the passage: “ There is, clearly, no trans- 
+lating of these lines, especially on the spur of the moment ; 
+yet it seems to me that the meaning of them is pretty dis- 
+tinct. The Lord has just remarked, that man (poor fellow) 
+needs a devil, as travelling companion, to spur him on by 
+means of Denial ; whereupon, turning round (to the angels 
+and other perfect characters), he adds, ‘ But ye, the genuine 
+sons of Heaven, joy ye in the living fulness of the beautiful 
+(not of the logical, practical, contradictory, wherein man toils 
+imprisoned): let Being (or Existence), which is everywhere 
+a glorious birth, into higher being, as it forever works and 
+lives, encircle you with the soft ties of love ; and whatsoever 
+wavers in the doubtful empire of appearance’ (as all earthly 
+things do), ‘that do ye, by enduring thought, make firm.’ 
+Thus would Das Werdende, the thing that is a-being, mean 
+no less than the universe (the visible universe) itself ; and I 
+paraphrase it by ‘ Existence, which is everywhere a birth, 
+mto higher Existence,’ and make a comfortable enough kind 
+of sense out of that quatrain.” 
+
+
+230 FAUST. 
+
+
+The intention of the passage, we might suppose, is suffi- 
+ciently clear. It was Goethe’s habit, as an author. to quietly 
+ignore the conventional theology of his day: yet Mr. He- 
+raud insists that “‘The Lord” of the Prologue is the Sec- 
+ond Person of the Trinity, and that the four lines com- 
+mencing with Das Werdende are simply another fcrm of 
+invoking “the fellowship of the Holy Ghost!” The 
+unusual construction of these lines —the first half implying 
+a benediction, and the second half a command — has been 
+retained in the translation. 
+
+
+14. Faust’s Monologue. 
+
+
+This scene, from its commencement to the close of Wag. 
+ner’s interview with Faust, was probably written as early as 
+1773. In style, as well as in substance, it suggests the pup- 
+pet-play rather than the published Faust legend. In Wasr- 
+het und Dichtung, Goethe says, in describing his intercourse 
+with Herder, in Strasburg (1770): “The puppet-play echoed 
+and vibrated in many tones through my mind. I, also, had 
+gone from one branch of knowledge to another, and was 
+early enough convinced of the vanity of all. I had tried life 
+in many forms, and the experience had left me only the more 
+unsatisfied and worried. I now carried these thoughts about 
+with me, and indulged myself in them, in lonely hours, but 
+without committing anything to writing. Most of all, I 
+concealed from Herder my mystic-cabalistic chemistry, and 
+everything connected with it.” 
+
+The text of various puppet-plays, which has been recov- 
+ered by Simrock, Von der Hagen, and other zealous (;erman 
+scholars, enables us to detect the source of Goethe’s concep- 
+tion, —the original corner-stone whereupon he builded. In 
+the play, as given in Ulm and Strasburg, there is a brief 
+Prologue in Hell, in which Pluto orders the temptation of 
+Faust. Notwithstanding the variation of the action in the 
+different plays, the opening scene possesses very much the 
+same character in all of them. As performed by Schiitz, 
+about the beginning of this century, Faust is represented as 
+seated at a table, upon which lies an open book. His 
+
+
+NOTES. 231 
+
+
+soliloyay commences thus: “ With all my learning, I, 
+Johannes Faust, have accomplished just so much, that I 
+must vlush with self-shame. I am ridiculed everywhere, 
+no one reads my books, all despise me. How fain am I to 
+become more perfect! Therefore I am rigidly resolved to 
+instruct myself in necromancy.” 
+
+In Geisselbrecht’s puppet-play, Faust also sits at a table 
+and curns over the leaves of a book. He says: “I seek for 
+learning in this book and cannot find it. Though I study all 
+books from end to end, I cannot discover the touchstone of 
+wisdom. O, how unfortunate art thou, Faust! I have all 
+along thought that my luck must change, but in vain..... 
+O Fatherland! thus thou rewardest my industry, my labor, 
+the sleepless nights I have spent in fathoming the mysteries 
+of Theology! But,no! By Heaven, I will no longer delay, 
+I will take upon myself all labor, so that I may penetrate 
+into that which is concealed, and fathom the mysteries. of 
+nature !”” 
+
+In the Augsburg puppet-play, Faust exclaims: ‘I, too, 
+have long investigated, have gone through all arts and 
+sciences. I became a Theologian, consulted authorities, 
+weighed all, tested all, — polemics, exegesis, dogmatism. 
+All was babble: nothing breathed of Divinity! I became a 
+Jurist, endeavored to become acquainted with Justice, and 
+learned how to distort justice. I found ag idol, shaped 
+by the hands of self-interest and self-conceit, a bastard of 
+Justice, not herself. I became a Physician, intending to 
+learn the human structure, and the methods of supporting it 
+when it gives way ; but I found not what I sought, —I only 
+found the art of methodically murdering men. I became a 
+Philosopher, desiring to know the soul of man, to catch 
+Truth by the wings and Wisdom by the forelock ; and I 
+found shadows, vapors, follies, bound into a system!” 
+
+The reader is referred to the ‘“‘ Faust-Legend ”’ (Appen- 
+dix I.) for further information concerning these plays. I 
+have given the above quotations, to indicate Goethe's start- 
+ing-point — which is also his point of divergence — from the 
+popular story. 
+
+
+232 FAUST. 
+
+
+I have also added the opening scene of Marlowe’s “ Faus- 
+tus” (Appendix III.) for the sake of convenient compari. 
+son. 
+
+15. Fly! Up, and seck the broad, free land ! 
+
+
+‘“* Moreover, there are forces which increase one’s produc. 
+tiveness in rest and sleep ; but they are also found in move. 
+ment. There are such forces in water, and especially in the 
+atmosphere. In the fresh air of the open fields is where we 
+properly belong; it is as if the Spirit of God is there imme- 
+diately breathed upon man, and a divine power exercises its 
+influence over him.” — Goethe to Eckermann (1828). 
+
+
+16. From Nostradamus’ very hand. 
+
+
+The astrologer Nostradamus (whose real name was 
+Michel de Nétre-Dame) was born at St. Remy, in Provence, 
+in the year 1503. At first celebrated as a physician, he 
+finally devoted himself to astrology, and published, in 1555. 
+a collection of prophecies in rhymed quatrains, entitled Les 
+Prophecies de Michel Nostradamus, which created an imme- 
+diate sensation, and found many believers ; especially as 
+the death of Henry II. of France seemed to verify one of 
+his mystical predictions. He was appointed physician to 
+Charles IX. and continued the publication of his prophe- 
+cies, asserting, however, that the study of the planetary 
+aspects was nat alone sufficient, but that the gift of second- 
+sight, which God grants only to a few chosen persons, is 
+also necessary. He died in the year 1566; and even as late 
+as the year 1781 his prophecies were included in the Roman 
+Index Expurgatorius, for the reason that they declare the 
+downfall of the Papacy. 
+
+
+17. The Sign of the Macrocosm. 
+
+
+The term “ Macrocosm ” was used by Pico di Mirandola, 
+Paracelsus, and other mystical writers, to denote the uni- 
+verse. They imagined a mysterious correspondence between 
+the Macrocosm (the world in large) and the Microcosm (the 
+world in little), or Man; and most of the astrological theo- 
+ries were based on the influence of the former upon the latter. 
+
+
+NOTES. 233 
+
+
+From some of Goethe’s notes, still in existence, we learn 
+that during the time when the conception of Faust first 
+occupied his mind (1770- 73), he read Welling’s Opus Mago- 
+Cabbalisticum, Paracelsus, Valentinus, the Aurea Catena Ho- 
+meri, and even the Latin poet Manilius. 
+
+Mr. Blackie, in his Notes, quotes a description of the 
+Macrocosm from a Latin work of Robert Fludd, published 
+at Oppenheim in 1619; but the theory had already been 
+given in the Aeftap/us of Pico di Mirandola (about 1490). 
+The universe, according to him, consists of three worlds, 
+the earthly, the heavenly, and the super-heavenly. The first 
+includes our planet and its enveloping space, as far as 
+the orbit of the moon; the second, the sun and stars ; the 
+third, the governing Divine influences. The same phenom- 
+ena belong to each, but have different grades of manifesta- 
+tion. Thus the physical element of fire exists in the earthly 
+sphere, the warmth of the sun in the heavenly, anda seraphic, 
+spiritual fire in the empyrean; the first burns, the second 
+quickens, the third loves. ‘In addition to these three 
+worlds (the Macrocosm),” says Pico, “ there is a fourth (the 
+Microcosm), containing all embraced within them. This is 
+Man, in whom are included a body formed of the elements, 
+a heavenly spirit, reason, an angelic soul, and a resemblance 
+to God.” 
+
+The work of Cornelius Agrippa, De Occulta Philosophia, 
+which was also known to Goethe, contains many references 
+to these three divisions of the Macrocosm, and their recip- 
+rocal influences. The latter are described in the passage 
+commencing : “ How each the Whole its substance gives!” 
+
+Hayward quotes, as explanatory of these lines, the follow- 
+ing sentence from Herder’s /dcen zur Philosophie der Ge- 
+schichte der Menschhetz: “ When, therefore, I open the great 
+book of Heaven, and see before me this measureless palace, 
+which alone, and everywhere, the Godhead only has power 
+to fill, I conclude, as undistractedly as I can, from the whole 
+to the particular, and from the particular to the whole.” 
+
+The four lines which Faust apparently quotes (‘“ What 
+says the sage, now first I recognize”) are not from Nostra- 
+
+
+234 FAUST. 
+
+
+damus. They may possibly have been suggested by some- 
+thing in Jacob Boehme’s first wurk, ‘‘ Aurora, or the Rising 
+Dawn,” but it is not at all necessary that they should be an 
+actual quotation. 
+
+
+18 Zhe Sign of the Earth-Spirit. 
+
+“The Archzus of the Orphic doctrine, the spirit of the 
+elementary world, of the powerful, multiformed earthly uni- 
+verse, to which Faust feels himself nearer.” — Diseézer. 
+
+“The mighty and multiform universality of the Earth 
+itself.”” — FalZ. 
+
+“But few succeed in calling up, that is to say, grasping 
+in inspired contemplation, — the Earth-Spirit, the spirit of 
+History, of the movement of the human race ; and still fewer 
+is the number of those who can endure the ‘ form of flame,’ — 
+whose individuality is strong enough not to be swallowed up 
+in it.” — Xreyssig. 
+
+
+19. J the tides of Life, in Action’s storm. 
+
+This chant of the Earth-Spirit recalls the “ Creative Power 
+which eternally works and lives” in the Prologue in Heaven. 
+The closing line may have been suggested by a passage in 
+the work, De Sensu Rerum, of the Dominican monk, Campa- 
+nella: “ Mundus ergo totus est sensus, vita, anima, corpus 
+statua Dei altissimi.”” The “living garment of the Deity,” 
+however, is a much finer expression. The Spirit’s chant 
+probably lingered in Shelley's memory, when he wrote : — 
+
+
+** Nature’s vast frame — the web of human things, 
+Birth and the grave.”’ 
+
+
+20. O Death !—T know it — tts my Famulus! 
+
+
+The Latin word /amulus (servant) was appliec, in the 
+Middle Ages, to the shield-bearers of the knights, and also 
+to persons owing the obligation of service to the feudal 
+lords. The Famulus of Faust, however, is at the same time 
+a student, an amanuensis, an assistant in his laboratory, and 
+a servitor, in the academic sense. The term is still applied, 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 235 
+
+
+i the German Universities, to those poor students who fill 
+various minor offices for the sake of eking out their means 
+by the small salaries attached to them. 
+
+
+21. WAGNER. 
+
+The name— and perhaps also the primal suggestion of 
+the character —of Faust’s Famulus is taken from the old 
+legend, in which Christopher Wagner (see Appendix I.). 
+after Faust’s tragic end, succeeds to his knowledge and en- 
+ters on a similar, if not so brilliant a career. 
+
+It is an interesting coincidence that one of Goethe’s early 
+associates, during his residence in Strasburg and Frankfort, 
+was Heinrich Leopold Wagner (who died in 1779), and who 
+was also an author. Goethe not only read to him the early 
+scenes of Faust, but imparted to him, in confidence, the fate 
+of Margaret, as he meant to develop it; and Wagner was 
+faithless enough to make use of the material for a tragedy 
+of his own — Zhe /n/anticide— which was published in 
+1776. Schiller’s poem, with the same title (apparently sug- 
+gested by Wagner’s play), and Biirger’s ballad of ‘‘ The 
+Pastor of Taubenheim’s Daughter,” in which the subject is 
+very similar, were both written in the year 1781. 
+
+According to Hinrichs, Faust represents Philosophy, and 
+Wagner Empiricism. Diintzer calls the latter “ the repre- 
+sentative of dead pedantry, of knowledge mechanically ac- 
+quired ” ; while other critics consider that he symbolizes the 
+Philistine element in German life, — the hopelessly material, 
+prosaic, and commonplace. Deycks says of Wagner: “ His 
+thoroughly prosaic nature forms the sharpest contrast to 
+Faust, and it is impossible for him to enter into any rela- 
+tion with Mephistopheles, because he restricts himself to 
+beaten tracks, and is repelled by all tricksy wantonness, even 
+by all fresh, natural indulgence. He is the driest caricature 
+of pure rational, formal knowledge, without living thought or 
+poetry, and especially without religion.” 
+
+It was probably enough for Goethe that Wagner furnishes 
+a dramatic contrast of character, —a foil to the boundless 
+ideal cravings of Faust. He betrays his nature in the very 
+
+
+
+
+
+236 FA OST. 
+
+
+first words he utters, and is so admirably consistent through- 
+out, that the reader is never at a loss how to interpret him. 
+
+
+22. Where ye for men twist shredded thought like paper. 
+
+
+This line, which reads, literally, “In which ye twist (or 
+curl) paper-shreds for mankind,” has been curiously mis- 
+understood by most translators. The article der befo.e 
+Menschhett was supposed by Hayward to be in the genitive 
+instead of the dative case, and he gives the phrase thus: “in 
+which ye crisp the shreds of humanity”! Blackie even says 
+“the shavings of mankind,” and most of the other English 
+versions repeat the mistake, in one or another form. In the 
+French of Blaze and Stapfer, however, the reading is correct. 
+Goethe employs the word Schnitzel (shreds or clippings) as 
+a contemptuous figure of speech for the manner in which 
+thought is presented to mankind in the discourses described 
+by Faust. Therefore by using the expression “shredded 
+thought ” in English, the exact sense of the original is pre- 
+served. 
+
+
+23. Ah, God! but Art is long. 
+
+
+Goethe was very fond of using the “ ars longa, vita brevis” 
+of Hippocrates. It occurs again in Scene IV., where he 
+puts it into the mouth of Mephistopheles. The American 
+reader is already familiar with the phrase, from Mr. Long- 
+fellow’s beautiful application of it, in his “ Psalm of Life.” 
+
+
+24. Or, at the best, a Punch-and-Fudy play. 
+
+
+The German phrase, /faupt-und Staats-action, was applied, 
+about the end of the seventeenth century, to the popular 
+puppet-plays which represented famous passages of history. 
+It seems to have been, originally, a form of announcement 
+invented by some proprietor of a wandering puppet-theatre, 
+and may therefore be equivalently translated, as a “ First- 
+Class Political) Performance!”’ The phrase was afterwards 
+applied to plays acted upon the stage, and Goethe even 
+makes use of it to designate Shakespeare’s historical dramas. 
+in the puppet-plays the heroic figures (Alexander, Pompey, 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 237 
+
+
+Charlemagne, etc.) wére in the habit of uttering the most 
+grandiloquent, oracular sentences ; they were as didactic in 
+speech as they were reckless and melodramatic in action. 
+
+The word pragmatical, which I have adopted as it stands 
+in the original, has a somewhat different signification in Ger- 
+man. It indicates — here, at least — a pedantic assumption 
+and ostentation, in addition to the sense of meddlesome inter- 
+ference which it possesses in English. 
+
+
+25. Have evermore been crucified and burned. 
+
+
+‘There were need,” said I, ‘‘ of a second Redeemer com- 
+ing, to deliver us from the austerity, the discomfort and the 
+tremendous pressure of the circumstances under which we 
+live.” 
+
+“If he should come,’’ Goethe answered, “the people 
+would crucify him a second time.” — Goethe to Eckermann, 
+1829. 
+
+26. That so our learned talk might be extended. 
+
+
+In “ Faust: a Fragment,” published in 1790, Wagner’s 
+conversation terminates with this line. The first four lines 
+of Faust’s following soliloquy are then added, and the scene 
+suddenly ends. Then we abruptly break upon the conver- 
+sation between Faust and Mephistopheles, in Scene IV., at 
+the line, 
+
+** And all of life for all mankind created.” 
+
+The remainder of the Monologue, the scene before the city- 
+gate, the first scene in Faust’s study, and all of the second 
+as far as the line just quoted, were first published in the 
+completed edition of 1808. It is very certain, however, that 
+portions of these omitted scenes were written before 1790, 
+and were then withheld on account of their incompleteness. 
+
+
+27. A thunder-word hath swept me from my stand. 
+Faust here refers to the reply of the Earth-Spirit : — 
+
+
+** Thou ’rt like the spirit which thou comprehendest, 
+Not me!” 
+
+
+The overwhelming impression produced upon him by this 
+
+
+238 FAUST. 
+
+
+phrase is only suspended during Wagner’s visit, and now 
+works with renewed force upon his morbid mood, until it 
+swells to a natural climax. 
+
+
+28. And here and there one happy man sits lonely. 
+
+
+In the conversations of Goethe, recorded by Eckermann, 
+Riemer, and Falk, he more than once, in referring to his 
+early impressions of life, repeats the pessimistic idea con- 
+tained in these lines. This was one of the causes which 
+stirred in him the resolution to achieve, as far as possible, 
+his own independent development. The subjective charac- 
+ter of the early scenes of Faust is so clearly indicated that 
+we should have recognized it without Goethe’s admission. 
+In 1826, he said to Eckermann: “In Werther and Faust, I 
+was obliged to delve in my own breast; for the source of 
+that which I communicated lay near at hand.” 
+
+
+29. Sought once the shining day, and then in twilight dull. 
+
+
+The two adjectives in this line are /eicht (easy, buoyant) 
+and schwer (heavy). Hartung thinks that the former is a 
+misprint for /ick¢ (shining, bright) ; but he is evidently mis- 
+taken, since the adjectives are chosen to express opposite 
+qualities, and the phrase /ickten Tag occurs in the sixth line 
+following. I have chosen English words which are not pre- 
+cisely literal, but, by their antithetic character, convey a 
+similar meaning. 
+
+
+30. Earn it anew, to really possess it / 
+
+
+It was a favorite maxim of Goethe that no man can really 
+possess that which he has not personally acquired. He 
+considered his own inherited wealth and the many opportu- 
+nities of his life as means, the value of which must be meas- 
+ured by the results attained by their use. On one occasion 
+he said: “ Every 40 mot which I have uttered, has cost me 
+a purse of money ; half a million of my private property has 
+run through my hands, to enable me to learn what I know— 
+not only the entire estate of my father, but also my salary 
+and my considerable literary income for more than fifty 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 239 
+
+
+years.” At the close of the Second Part, he makes the 
+aged Faust say : — 
+
+
+‘“* He only earns his freedom and existence, 
+Who daily conquers them anew.” 
+
+
+31. On earth's fair sun I turn ny back. 
+
+
+Here, again, Goethe recalls a phase of his own psychologi- 
+cal experience, which he describes at some length in Wakhr- 
+hetund Dichtung (Book XIII.). Even before Jerusalem’s 
+suicide at Wetzlar had furnished him with the leading idea 
+of Werther, he had been drawn, by what he calls the gloomy 
+element in English literature, — especially by Ham/et, Young's 
+Night Thoughts, and the melancholy rhapsodies of Ossian, 
+—to study the phenomena of self-murder and apply them, 
+in imagination, to himself. Among all the instances with 
+which he was acquainted, none seemed to him nobler than 
+that of the Emperor Otho, who, after a cheerful banquet 
+with his friends, thrust a dagger into his heart. ‘ This was 
+the only deed,” he says (and in what follows, I suspect, 
+there is as much Dichtung as Wahrheit), “which seemed to 
+me worthy of imitation, and I was convinced that one who 
+could not act like Otho had no right to go voluntarily out 
+of the world. Through this conviction I rescued myself 
+both from the intention and the morbid fancy of suicide, 
+which haunted an idle youth in those fair times of peace. 
+I possessed a tolerable collection of weapons, wherein there 
+was a valuable, keen-edged dagger. This I placed con- 
+stantly beside my bed, and, before putting out the light, 
+endeavored to try whether it was possible to pierce my 
+breast, an inch or two deep, with the sharp point. Since, 
+however, the experiment never succeeded, I finally laughed 
+at myself, discarded all hypochondric distortions of fancy, 
+and determined to live.” 
+
+
+32. CHORUS OF ANGELS. 
+
+
+In this first chorus I have been forced, by the prime neces- 
+sity of preserving the meaning, to leave the second line un- 
+
+
+
+
+
+240 FAUST. 
+
+
+rhymed. The word schleivkenden, in the fourth line, whict 
+I have endeavored to express by “clinging” (Hayward has 
+‘‘ creeping,” Blackie “through his veins creeping,”’ and Dr. 
+Hedge ‘‘trailing”), is nearly equivalent to the English 
+phrase “dogging one’s steps.” The first.of the three Angelic 
+Choruses rejoices over Christ’s release from Mortality, the. 
+second exalts him as the “ Loving One,” and the third cele- 
+brates his restoration to the Divine creative activity. 
+
+Goethe heard a similar chant sung by the common people 
+in Rome, in the year 1788; but his immediate model was 
+undoubtedly the German Easter-hymn of the Middle Ages, 
+many variations of which are given in Wackernagel’s work. 
+One of these, dating from the thirteenth century, thus com- 
+
+
+mences s: = 
+‘* Christus ist erstanden 
+
+
+gewaerliche von dem tdt, 
+von allen sinen Banden 
+ist er erledigét.”” 
+
+
+(Christ is arisen 
+verily from death ; 
+From all his bonds 
+is he released. } 
+
+
+The universal Easter greeting, at this day, among the 
+Greeks, is Christos aneste / and the answer: alethos aneste ! 
+The same custom prevails throughout Russia, and in some 
+parts of Catholic Germany. 
+
+In 1772, Goethe, writing to Kestner on Christmas Day, 
+says: “ The watchman on the tower trumpeted his hymn 
+and awakened me: Praised be thou, Fesus Christ! 1 dearly 
+love this time of the year, and the hymns that are sung.” 
+
+
+33. And prayer dissolved me in a fervent bliss. 
+
+
+Again Goethe recalls his own early memories. These 
+lines describe the religious exaltation excited in his boyish 
+nature by Fraulein von Klettenburg, whom he has intro- 
+duced into Wilhelm Meister (Book VI.). in the “ Confessions 
+of a Fair Spirit.” The above line suggests a passage of this 
+episode : ‘Once I prayed, out of the depth of my heart: 
+
+
+NOTES. 241 
+
+
+‘now, Almighty One, give me faith!’ I was then in the 
+condition in which one must be, but seldom is, when one’s 
+prayers may be accepted by God. Who could paint what 
+I then felt! A powerful impulse drew my soul to the Cross, 
+on which Jesus perished. Thus my soul was near to Him 
+who became Man and died on the Cross, and in that mo- 
+men. I knew what faith is. ‘This is faith!’ I cried, and 
+sprang up, almost as in terror. For such emotions as these, 
+all words fail us.” 
+
+
+34 Is He, in glow of birth, 
+Rapture creative near ? 
+
+
+These two lines, in the original, are a marvel of com- 
+pressed expression. The closest literal translation is: “ Is 
+He, in the bliss of developing into (higher) being, near to 
+the joy of creating,” — that is, the bliss of being born into 
+the higher life to which He has ascended is sca:cely less 
+than the joy of the Divine creative activity. The "Disciples, 
+left behind and still sharing the woes of Earth, pewail the 
+beatitude which parts Him from them. 
+
+The final Chorus of the Angels, which follows, is a stum- 
+bling-block to the translator, on account of its fivefold dac- 
+tylic rhyme. The lines are, literally : — 
+
+
+Actively praising him, 
+Manifesting love, 
+Brotherly giving food, 
+Preaching, travelling, 
+Promising blessedness, 
+
+To you is the Master near, 
+To you, He is here! 
+
+
+In order to retain the rhyme, I have been obliged to express 
+a little more prominently the idea of ‘‘ Inasmuch as ye have 
+done it unto the least of one of these my brethren, ye have 
+done it unto me,” — which is implied in the original. Dr. 
+Hedge, I believe, is the only one who has hitherto endeav- 
+ored to reproduce the difficult structure of this Chorus. He 
+thus translates the five rhymes : — 
+VOL. I. F P 
+
+
+242 FAUST. 
+“ Active in chanty 
+Praise him in verity ! 
+His feast, prepare it ye ! 
+His message, bear it ye f 
+His joy, declare it ye 1” 
+
+
+35- BEFORE THE CitTy-GATE. 
+
+
+Goethe’s landscapes, like those of an artist, were always 
+drawn from real studies ;# and some of his commentators, 
+therefore, have tried to discover the original of this scene. 
+Strasburg, Frankfurt, and even Weimar, have been sug- 
+gested ; but the first of these places, on the level plain of 
+the Rhine, does not fit the description ; while, judging from 
+internal evidence, the opening of the scene must have been 
+written before Goethe’s migration to Weimar. Such fea- 
+tures as the river and vessels, the ferry, the suburban places 
+of resort, and the view of the town from a neighboring 
+height, indicate Frankfurt ; and the gay, motley life of the 
+multitude is another point of resemblance. 
+
+
+30. ’Tss true, she showed me, on Saint Andrew's Night. 
+
+St. Andrew’s Night is the 29th of November. It is cele- 
+brated, in some parts of Germany, by forms of divination 
+very similar to those which are practised in Scotland on 
+Hallow E’en (October 31st). The maidens, as in Keats’s 
+Eve of St. Agnes, believe that by calling upon St. Andrew, 
+naked, before getting into bed, the future sweetheart will 
+appear to them in a dream. Another plan is, to pour melted 
+lead through the wards of a key wherein there is the form 
+of a cross, into a basin of water fetched between eleven 
+o'clock and midnight: the cooling lead will then take the 
+form of tools which indicate the trade of the destined lover. 
+
+
+37- She showed me mine, in crystal clear. 
+A magi crystal, sometimes in the form of a sphere, but 
+© The sceve of his Elective A fisities, for mstance, has recently been 
+discovered at Wilhelmsthal, near Eisenach. Not only the castle, park, 
+
+
+and lake, but even the wood-paths and the minutest features of the sur 
+rounding landscape, are described with almost topograplical exactpess. 
+
+
+NOTES. 243 
+
+
+frequently, no doubt, as a lens, was employed for the pur- 
+pose of divination. The methods, in fact, were varied to 
+suit the superstition which employed them. In Pictor’s 
+“‘ Varieties of Ceremonial Magic ” (given in Scheible’s X7Zas- 
+tr), twenty-seven forms of divination are described at length, 
+but Crystallomancy is not among them. The ancients em- 
+ployed between forty and fifty different methods. 
+
+
+38. Released from te are brook and river. 
+
+
+If this passage was not added, or at least re-written, be- 
+tween 1797 and 1808, — as is possible, —it is interesting as 
+one of the first evidences of Goethe’s interest in Color, an 
+interest which finally developed into a passion, and quite 
+deceived him in regard to the importance of his observations. 
+His Farbenlekre (Science of Colors) was commenced in 1790 
+and completed in 1805, the year of Schiller’s death, although 
+it was not published forfour or five years afterwards. Either, 
+therefore, the allusions to color in this early scene harmo- 
+nized with the author’s later views, or they were afterwards 
+changed for the sake of harmony. 
+
+
+39. <All for the dance the shepherd dressed. 
+
+
+There is a reference to this song of the shepherds in Wsl- 
+helws Meister (Apprenticeship), where Philine says: “‘ Old 
+man, dost thou know the melody: “All for the danoe the 
+shepherd dressed ”?° ‘Oh, yes,’ he replied, ‘if you will sing 
+and represent the song, I shall not fail in my part.’ Philine 
+arose and stood in readiness. The old man struck up the 
+melody, and she sang a song which we cannot communicate 
+to our readers, because they perhaps might find it absurd 
+or even improper.” This portion of Wilkelm Meister was 
+published in 1795, which is another evidence of the early 
+origin of the scene. The graceful measure of the song, 
+which nevertheless expresses the roughest realism of Ger- 
+man peasant-life, can only be approximately given in another 
+language. 
+
+This episode, also, is suggested by Goetne’s earliest mem- 
+ories of the various popular festivals in Frankfurt. In Wahr- 
+
+
+244 FAUST. 
+
+
+heit und Dichtung (Book I.), he says: ‘On the right bank 
+of the Main, below the city, there is a sulphur spring, neatlr 
+enclosed, and surrounded with immemorial linden-trees 
+Not far from it stands the ‘Good People’s Hall,’ formerly 
+an hospital, built on account of this spring. The cattle of 
+the neighborhood were brought together upon the adjoining 
+commons, on a certain day of the year, and the herdsmen, 
+with their maidens, had a rural festival, with dances and 
+songs, with merriment and rough pranks. . . . The nurses 
+and maids, who are always ready to treat themselves to a 
+walk, never failed, from our earliest years, to take us with 
+them to such places, so that these country diversions are 
+among the very first impressions which I now recall.” 
+
+
+40. Sir Doctor, tt ts good of you. 
+
+It is very rarely that the first and third lines of a quatrain 
+are unrhymed in German. I have no doubt that Goethe in- 
+tended to represent, by a less musical verse, the more pro- 
+saic nature and speech of the common people. The words 
+he employs in the two addresses of the Old Peasant are the 
+simplest and plainest ; the fone of the verse is entirely that 
+of prose. 
+
+
+41. Then also you, though but a youth. 
+
+
+Diintzer conjectures that Goethe derived the idea of this 
+helpful activity of Faust, upon which rests the episode with 
+the peasants, from the history of Nostradamus. In the year 
+1525, when the latter was twenty-two years old, Provence 
+was devastated by a pestilence. The young physician went 
+boldly from house to house, through the villages, and saved 
+the lives of many of the sick, himself escaping all infection. 
+
+
+42. There was a Lion red, a wooer daring. 
+
+
+The jargon of the medieval alchemists, from Raymond 
+Lully to Paracelsus, is used in this description. The system 
+taught that all substances, especially metals, had either mas- 
+culine or feminine qualities, as well as inherent affinities and 
+antipathies. Campanella’s doctrine, that all the elements of 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 245 
+
+
+watter were endowed with sense and feeling, was very gen- 
+erally adopted by his successors in the art. Goethe drew 
+nis description of the preparation of the panacea partly from 
+Paracelsus, and partly from Welling’s Opus Mago-Cabbalis- 
+ticum. 
+
+The “Lion red ” is cinnabar, called a “ wooer daring ”’ on 
+account of the action of quicksilver in rushing to an intimate 
+union (an amalgam) with all other metals. The Lily is a 
+preparation of antimony, which bore the name of Litium Pura- 
+celst. Red, moreover, is the masculine, and white the femi- 
+nine color. The alembic containing these substances was 
+first placed in a “tepid bath’’—a vessel of warm water — 
+and gradually heated ; then “ tormented by flame unsparing ” 
+(“open flame,” in the original), the two were driven from 
+one “bridal chamber ” to another, — that is, their wedded 
+fumes were forced, by the heat, from the alembic into a glass 
+retort. If then, the “ young Queen,” the sublimated com- 
+pound of the two substances, appeared with a brilliant color 
+—ruby or royal purple being most highly esteemed — in the 
+retort, “this was the medicine.” The product reminds us 
+of calomel, which is usually formed by the sublimated union 
+of mercury and chlorine. 
+
+
+43. Lf there be airy spirits near. 
+
+
+In his conversations, Goethe more than once speaks of 
+his youthful belief in spirits, even relating circumstances 
+when he fancied their presence was manifested to him ; and 
+Riemer considers that this passage is simply an expression 
+of such belief. Diintzer, on the other hand, insisted that 
+Faust refers to the sylphs, or spirits of the air, as they were 
+tfecognized in the theories of the alchemists. I think it much 
+more probable that the following passage, from the Faust- 
+legend in its oldest form (Frankfurt, 1587), lingered in 
+Goethe’s memory. Faust says to Mephistopheles: ‘* My 
+servant, declare what spirit thou art!” The spirit answered 
+and said: “ / ama spirit, and a flving spirtt, potently ruling 
+under the heavens!” In the four lines of the text, followed 
+by the wish for a magic mantle (such as Mephistopheles 
+
+
+246 FAUST. 
+
+
+afterwards furnishes), Faust unconsciously invokes the spirit 
+which is already lying in wait for him, and which, thus 
+invited, appears immediately in the form of a black dog. 
+Wagner, however, who comprehends nothing but the dry 
+lore with which he is crammed, sees in Faust’s words only a 
+reference to the weather-spirits, and thereupon pompously 
+airs his own knowledge of the latter. 
+
+The expression, in the preceding couplet, that one part of 
+Faust’s dual spirit sweeps upwards “into the high ancestral 
+spaces,” suggests, equally, a passage in the Augsburg pup- 
+pet-play. He is there made to exclaim: “ Invisible Spirits, 
+receive me! I soar to your dominion. Yes, I will lift my- 
+self out of this wretched atmosphere, which is only for com- 
+mon men!” 
+
+
+44. Swift from the North the spirit-fangs so sharp. 
+
+The belief in evil spirits inhabiting the nether regions of the 
+atmosphere is very ancient. Paul calls Satan “the prince 
+of the power of the air” (Zphestans ii. 2), and thus gives 
+Christian currency to a much older superstition. In the 
+poem Zodtacus Vite, of Marcellus Palingenius (written about 
+the year 1527), the different atmospheric demons are minute- 
+ly described. Their names are Typhurgus (Mist-bringer), 
+Aplestus (the Insatiable), Philokreus (Lover of Flesh), and 
+Miastor (the Befouler). Wagner’s classification indicates 
+the effects of the four winds upon the weather and the hu- 
+man frame. In Germany, the east wind is dry and keen, 
+and the west wind brings rain. 
+
+Hayward, in his Notes, quotes the following additional 
+authorities : — 
+
+“The spirits of the aire will mix themselves with thun- 
+der and lightning, and so infest the clyme where they 
+Yaise any tempest, that soudainely great mortality shall 
+ensue to the inhabitants.” — Pierce Pennilesse his Supplica- 
+tion, 1592. 
+
+“The air is not so full of flies in summer, as it is at al 
+4imes of invisible devils: this Paracelsus stiffly maintains.” 
+— Burton, Anat, Part L 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 247 
+
+
+45. Seest thou ike black dog coursing there, through corn and 
+stubble ;’ 
+
+
+The appearance of Mephistopheles in the form of a dog is 
+a part of the uld legend. Manlius, in the report of his con- 
+versation with Melancthon, quotes the latter as having said : 
+“He (Faust) had a dog with him, which was the Devil.” 
+The theologian, Johann Gast, in his Sermones Conviviales, 
+describes a dinner given by Faust at Basle, at which he was 
+present, and remarks: “ He had also a dog and a horse 
+with him, both of which I believe were devils, for they were 
+able to do everything. Some persons told me that the dog 
+frequently took the shape of a servant and brought him food.” 
+In some of the early forms of the legend the name of the 
+dog is given as Prestigiar: he is described in Widmann as 
+large, shaggy, and black, but in other versions he is of a 
+dark red color. The Wagner-legends all agree in giving the 
+latter, as attendant, an evil spirit in the form of a monkey, 
+whom he called 4uerhahn (moor-cock). 
+
+Burns, in Zam O'Shanter, says : — 
+
+
+** A winnock-bunker in the east, 
+There sat auld Nick, in shape o’ beast, 
+A towsie tyke, black, grim, and large." 
+
+
+46. ’Ts written: “ In the Beginning was the Word.” 
+
+
+“T need hardly point out to the reader how artfully the 
+poet has managed by making Faust, in his perplexed state 
+of mind, hit upon the most difficult passage in the whole 
+Bible. The dissatisfaction which would thence arise would 
+bring his mind into a fit state for listening to the suggestions 
+of the tempter; and thus would this precipitate spirit of 
+discontent wrest the words of truth to his own destruction. 
+As to the interpretations he has given us of the AOTO, 
+they are as consistent and intelligible as the speculations of 
+human reason, upon one of the most obscure subjects to 
+which it can be directed, can be supposed to be.”” — Blackie, 
+Notes to his Translation of Faust (London, 1834). 
+
+This passage is not, as Blackie supposes, a fortunate in- 
+
+
+
+
+
+248 FAUST. 
+
+
+spiration of Goethe. It is directly suggested by the legend. 
+In Widmann’s “ Veritable History of Dr. Faust” (Ham- 
+burg, 1599) I find, in the fifteenth chapter. that Mephistoph- 
+eles thus answers Faust’s proposition to discuss with him 
+certain questions of theology: ‘‘In so far as it concerns the 
+Bible, which thou again art of a mind to read, there shall be 
+no more permitted to thee than, namely : the first, second, 
+and fifth books of Moses; all the others, except Job, shalt 
+thou let be ; and likewise in the New Testament thou mayst 
+read the three Disciples that write of the deeds of Christ, 
+that is to say, the tax-gatherer, the painter and the doctor 
+(meaning Mattheum, Marcum and Lucam) ; ésut Fokn shalt 
+thou avoid, and I forbid also the chatterer Paul, and such 
+others as wrote Epistles.” 
+
+This prohibition of the Fourth Gospel led Goethe, at 
+once, to the opening verse, the attempt to translate which 
+becomes not only a source of new perplexity to Faust, but 
+also serves to hasten the poodle’s transformation. The frag- 
+ments of Faust’s soliloquy, showing that his soul is turned 
+towards “the love of God,” disturb the evil spirit incorpo- 
+rated with the beast ; but the words of John, to which the 
+spirit has a special antipathy, compel him to betray his 
+presence. 
+
+The growth and terrible appearance of the poodle suggest 
+a passage in Neumann’s ‘Curious Observations concerning 
+the so-called Dr. Faust ” (1702). He says, on the authority 
+of Wier, the pupil of Cornelius Agrippa: ‘* A schoolmaster 
+of Gosslar had learned from Faust, the magician, the formula 
+by which certain verses may be used to imprison the Devil 
+in a glass. In order that he might not risk being inter- 
+rupted, he went one day into a forest ; and while he was in 
+the midst of his invocations, the Devil came unto him ina 
+horrible form, with fiery eyes, a nose curved like a cows 
+horn, with wild and fearful boar’s-tusks, a rough cat’s back, 
+and every way frightful.” 
+
+One of the illustrations in Widmann’s book represents 
+Mephistopheles appearing to Faust in front of ¢he stove in 
+the latter’s study, and conversing with him over the top of a 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 249 
+
+
+fire-screen. The text says that Faust first became aware of 
+the spirit as a shadow moving around the stove. 
+
+
+47. The Kcy of Solomon és good. 
+
+
+Solomon’s fame as a magician is mentioned by Josephus, 
+and also by Origen, who was acquainted with a work on the 
+manner of citing spirits to appear, ascribed to the Hebrew 
+king. There seems to be no doubt that Solomon was a 
+chief authority with the Jewish exorcists, from whom his 
+name and some of his supposed formule of invocation were 
+transmitted, until we find them in the Cabbala of the Middle 
+Ages. The Clavicula Salomonis is mentioned by Welling, 
+Paracelsus, and other writers, and some copies have been 
+preserved. It is claimed that the genuine original contained 
+only instructions by which good spirits might be invoked to 
+assist in good works, but the variations give also the method 
+of summoning evil spirits. In Fuust's Dretfacher Hollen- 
+ewang (copied in Scheible’s AVoster), the Clavicula Salo- 
+monis is given as it was communicated to Pope Sylvester by 
+Constantine, and translated in the Vatican, under Pope Julius 
+II. It is called ‘‘ The Necromantic Key of Solomon, or the 
+Key to the Magic Wisdom of Solomon, and to compel the 
+Spirits to every Manner of Service,” and commences: “At 
+first, pray (or sing) the following canticum hebraicum — Aba, 
+sarka, maccaf, sofar, holech, (segolta), pazergadol,”’ etc. Then 
+follow a number of similar invocations, together with the 
+“Seal of the highest wisdom of Solomon,” —a very com- 
+plicated figure of hexagonal form, — which must be held in 
+the hand. Faust. as the reader will remark, employs an 
+entirely different method of exorcism. 
+
+
+48. Zhe Words of the Four be addressed. 
+
+
+The universal belief in elementary spirits, during the 
+Middle Ages, was a natural inheritance from the ancient 
+faith. So much of their former half-divinity clung to them 
+that they were assigned an intermediate place between men 
+and genuine spirits. They were supposed to have positive 
+and unchangeable forms, of a finer, more ethereal flesh and 
+
+11 * 
+
+
+250 FAUST. 
+
+
+blood. and to be soulless, although the children born of their 
+intercourse with human beings received human souls. They 
+were classified, according to the element in which they lived, 
+as Salamanders (in Fire), Undines (in Water,) Sylphs (in 
+Air), and Gnomes (in Earth). Of these, the two latter 
+classes were supposed to be most familiar and friendly. 
+
+Pope (Rape of the Lock), in his Dedicatory Letter to Mrs, 
+Arabella Fermor, says, referring to the Rosicrucians : ‘‘ The 
+best account I know of them is in a French book called Le 
+Comte de Gabalis, which, both in its title and size, is so like 
+a novel, that many of the fair sex have read it for one by 
+mistake. According to these gentlemen, the four elements 
+are inhabited by spirits, which they call sylphs, gnomes, 
+nymphs, and salamanders. The gnomes, or demons of the 
+earth, delight in mischief ; but the sylphs, whose habita- 
+tion is in the air, are the best-conditioned creatures imagi- 
+nable.” 
+
+In the first canto of the Rafe of the Lock, the passage oc- 
+
+
+curs : — 
+“ For when the fair in all their pnde expire, 
+
+To their first elements their souls retire. 
+The sprites of fiery termagants in flame 
+Mount up, and take a salamander’s name. 
+Soft, yielding minds to water glide away, 
+And sip, with nymphs, their elemental tea. 
+The graver prude sinks downward to a gnome 
+In search of mischief still on earth to roam. 
+The light coquettes in sylphs aloft repair, 
+And sport and flutter in the fields of air.” 
+
+
+In the Comte de Gabalis, to which Pope refers, the four 
+classes of the elementary spirits are very minutely described. 
+It is there stated that they became invisible to the human 
+race through the sin of Adam, that they are more perfect 
+than men, “ proud in appearance, but docile in reality, great 
+lovers of science, officious towards sages, intolerant towards 
+fools.” 
+
+Faust, it will be noticed, uses ‘the Words of the Four,” 
+but without effect. He then repeats the adjuration, in an 
+other and stronger form. Here, however, the word Kobold 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 2st 
+
+
+(Gnome) is omitted, and Jcubus, the dwarfish, tricksy, 
+household spirit, is substituted. In German fairy-lore, there 
+is a relationship between the two, but they are not identical. 
+There seems to be no reason for the change ; and, as Goethe 
+attached no great importance to the passage, the rhyme, 
+alone, may have suggested it. - 
+
+
+49. Now, to undisguise thee, 
+Hear me exorcise thee! 
+
+
+The original is: ‘Thou shalt hear me more strongly ex- 
+orcise!’? Suspecting that an infernal spirit dwells in the 
+beast, Faust makes “the sign” of the cross, and the effect 
+is immediately manifest. Diintzer says, ‘‘ He presents to 
+him the name of Jesus,” — which is certainly a misconcep- 
+tion. Blackie quotes a passage from Cornelius Agrippa, 
+declaring that evil spirits are affrighted by the sign of the 
+cross. 
+
+Goethe, also, may have remembered the verse in the Epis- 
+tle of James (ii. 19): ‘‘ Thou believest tuat there is one God ; 
+thou doest well: the devils also believe, and tremble.” 
+
+
+50. Zhe One, unoriginate. . 
+
+
+Here Christ is described, but not named. The four lines 
+are, literally : 
+The Unoriginated, 
+Unuttered, 
+Diffused through all the Heavens, 
+Guiltily transpierced. 
+
+
+The strong spell is now working upon the spirit; and the 
+further threat of “the threefold, dazzling glow ” — the em- 
+blem of the Divine Trinity —or its ancient mystic symbol, 
+the rayed triangle, suffices to complete the exorcism. 
+
+Faust, in the old Hollenzwang, says: ‘ Again I command 
+thee, Spirit, by the words of might: Yesus Christ is become 
+flesh — therewith I compel thee, and hind thee, and exorcise 
+thee here, through Lucifer and Beelzebub and all the leaders 
+of the hellish host, whatever may be your names.” 
+
+
+
+
+
+ac? FAUST. 
+
+
+51. MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+The original form of this name was A/ephostophiles. There 
+has been much discussion in regard to its meaning; but 
+Diintzer’s conjecture is probably correct, — that it was im- 
+perfectly formed by some one who knew little Greek, and 
+was intended to signify not loving the light. The expressions 
+which Mephistopheles uses, in explaining his nature to Faust, 
+would seem to indicate that this was also Goethe’s under- 
+standing of the name. 
+
+Although, in most of the popular Faust-stories, Mephis- 
+topheles is often referred to as ‘“‘ the Devil,” it was well un- 
+derstood that he was only a devil. In ‘ Faust’s Miraculous 
+Art and Book of Marvels, or the Black Raven” (1469), the 
+powers and potentates of the Infernal Kingdom are thus 
+given: Aing, Lucifer; Viceroy, Belial ; Gubernatores, Satan, 
+Beelzebub, Astaroth, Pluto; CAsef Princes, Aziel, Mephis- 
+tophilis, Marbuel, Ariel, Aniguel, Anisel, and Barfael. 
+
+Goethe took only the name and a few circumstances con- 
+nected with the first appearance of Mephistopheles from the 
+legend : the character, from first to last, is his own creation. 
+Although he sometimes slyly used it (though less frequently 
+than Faust) as a mask through which to speak with his own 
+voice, he evidently drew the germ of some characteristics 
+from his early associate, Merck. His own strong instinct 
+led him to avoid the danger of personifying abstract ideas, 
+by seeking in life for all material which could give a dramatic 
+reality to his characters ; and he did not scruple to take that 
+which was nearest and most intimate. 
+
+“* Merck and 1,”’ said Goethe to Eckermann, in 1831, “‘al- 
+ways went together, like Faust and Mephistopheles. .... 
+All his pranks and tricks sprang from the basis of a higher 
+culture ; but, as he was not a productive nature, —on the 
+contrary, he possessed a strongly marked negative tendency, 
+— he was far more ready to blame than praise, and involun- 
+tarily sought out everything which might enable him to in- 
+dulge his habit.” 
+
+In Wahrheit und Dichtung (Book XII.) Goethe gives a 
+
+
+NOTES. 253 
+
+
+tareful and doubtless a correct picture of Merck’s character 
+and temperament. “This singular man,” he says, “ who 
+exercised the greatest influence upon my life, was a native 
+of Darmstadt. When I first knew him, he was Military 
+Paymaster there. Born with spirit and intelligence, he had 
+acquired much admirable knowledge, especially of modern 
+literature, and had busied himself in all directions and with 
+all the phenomena of Man and History. He had the faculty 
+of sharp and pointed judgment, and was esteemed both as an 
+honest, energetic man of business, and a rapid arithmetician. 
+Thoroughly self-possessed, he appeared everywhere as a most 
+agreeable companion for those to whom he had not made 
+himself dreaded by his keen, satirical speecn. He was long 
+and lean of form; his prominent, pointed nose was a con- 
+spicuous feature; keen blue, perhaps gray eyes, observantly 
+moving to and fro, gave something of the tiger to his 
+look. .... 
+
+“In his character there was a remarkable contradiction. 
+Naturally an upright, noble, worthy man, he was imbittered 
+against the world, and allowed such full sway to this moody 
+peculiarity that he felt an invincible inclination to show him- 
+self wilfully as a waggish knave, — nay, even a rogue. Calm, 
+reasonable, good, one moment, the next he would take a 
+whim, like a snail thrusting out its horns, to do something 
+which offended, aggrieved, or even positively injured another. 
+Yet, as one is attracted to associate with something danger- 
+ous, when one imagines himself to be secure against its at- 
+tack, my own inclination was all the greater to live in his 
+company and enjoy his good qualities, since [ felt the most 
+confident presentiment that he would not turn his evil side 
+
+
+* He was born in 1741, and was therefore eight years older than Goethe. 
+He travelled, as a young man, with a Baron von Bibra, married a French 
+woman in Geneva, and then settled in his native town. His literary 
+works were chiefly translations from the English (among them, Addison's 
+Cato), and critical and zsthetic papers in the periodicals of the day; but 
+his personal influence upon authors. especially Herder, Goethe, and La- 
+Vater, was very great. His domestic life was not happy, his circumstances 
+became embarrassed, and in 1791 he committed suicide. 
+
+
+“354 FAUST. 
+
+
+towards me. As, on the one hand, he disturbed society by 
+this morally restless spirit, this continual necessity to deal 
+with men spitefully and maliciously, so, on the other hand, 
+a different unrest, which he also carefully nourished within 
+himself, undermined his own contentment.”’ 
+
+In Widmann’s Faust-book, Mephistopheles appears in the 
+character of a monk. In the Geisselbrecht puppet-play 
+Faust commands him to put off his first terrible form, and 
+says : ‘‘ Thou mayst come as jurist, as doctor, or as hunter, 
+but it were better that thou appearest as a student.” In the 
+Ulm version, when Mephistopheles asks: ‘In what form 
+shall I appear?” Faust answers: ‘“ Like as a man.” In 
+the Strasburg play, Faust asks, after having chosen Mephis- 
+topheles : “ But why appearest thou to me under this mask ? 
+I wished for a devil, and not one of my own race.” Mephis- 
+topheles answers : “ Faust, perhaps we are then wholly dev- 
+ils, when we resemble you ; at least, no other mask suits us 
+better”” He thereafter next makes his appearance as a pos- 
+tilion. 
+
+Goethe’s choice of the character of a travelling scholar — 
+or, I should perhaps say, a vagabond scholar — was prob- 
+ably dictated by the succeeding scene (IV.), which was first 
+written. Another projected scene, given in the Puralipo- 
+mena (and added in a later note), furnishes additional rea- 
+sons. The travelling scholars of the Middle Ages were a 
+pretentious, adventurous class — the pedantic Bohemians of 
+those days — who wandered over Europe, maintaining theses, 
+entering into private or public discussions with equal flip- 
+pancy, and sponging upon the universities and monasteries. 
+The appearance of Mephistopheles in such a form is an iron- 
+ical reflection upon Faust’s devotion to learning ; yet the 
+latter is unconscious of this, and his first surprise gives way 
+to a contemptuous laugh. 
+
+
+52. ln names like Beelzebub, Destroyer, Father of Lies. 
+
+In the original, the first of these names is given as Fliegen- 
+gott, Fly-god. For the sake of metre, I have substituted 
+our familiar Hebrew equivalent, Beelzebub — or, more cor 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 256 
+
+
+rectly, Baalsebub. “Destroyer” and Liar, or “Father of 
+Lies,” are also familiar to us as Aéaddon and Satan. Faust 
+must be supposed to accept the orders of the infernal hie, 
+rarchy, as given in the cabalistic writings, whence his en- 
+deavor to identify the particular fiend whom he has invoked. 
+
+
+53. Lam the Spirit that Denies. 
+
+
+In declaring himself, first, to be part of that power “‘ which 
+always wills the Bad, and always works the Good,” Meph- 
+istopheles is unexpectedly frank. His expression coincides 
+exactly with the declaration of The Lord (see page 15), as to 
+the service he is obliged to perform. 
+
+In the passage which follows, he is equally honest, and the 
+above line clearly describes the part which he plays, from 
+beginning to end. He is the Spirit of Negation, and his 
+being exists through opposition to the positive Truth, and 
+Order, and Beauty, which proceed from the never-ending 
+creative energy of the Deity. The masks which we find him 
+assuming in the Second Part of Faust are all explained by 
+this necessity of Negation. His irreverence and irony are 
+not only a part of his nature, but they are further increased 
+by the impotence of his efforts — which he freely admits in 
+the following passages — to disturb the Divine system. 
+
+Mephistopheles draws his theory of the primeval darkness 
+from the Theogony of Hesiod. His reference to “‘ bodies ” 
+shows that he understands the physical and spiritual identity 
+of light and life. Since we have seen that, in Widmann’s 
+Faust-book, he prohibits to Faust the reading of the Gospel 
+of John, we may surmise a connection between his hostility 
+to light and these verses from the first chapter of that Gos- 
+pel : — 
+
+“In him was life; and the life was the light of men. 
+
+“And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness 
+comprehended it not.” 
+
+
+54. From Water, Earth, and Air unfolding, 
+A thousand germs break forth and grow. 
+
+
+“Let men continue to worship Him who gives the ox his 
+
+
+256 FAUST. 
+
+
+pasture, and to man food and drink, according to his need. 
+But I worship Him, who has filled the world with such a 
+productive energy, that, if only the millionth part became 
+embodied in living existences, the globe would so swarm 
+with them that War, Pestilence, Flood and Fire would be 
+powerless to diminish them. That is my God!” — Goethe 
+to Eckermann, 1831. 
+
+
+55- Zhe wizard ’'s-foot that on your threshold made 3. 
+
+
+In the original, Drudenfuss. Drud, from one root with 
+Druid, was the old German word for “ wizard.” The wiz- 
+ard’s-foot, or pentagram, was supposed to possess an espe- 
+cial potency against evil spirits. It is simply a five-rayed 
+star, thus: — 
+
+
+Its efficacy undoubtedly sprang from the circumstance that 
+it resolves itself into three triangles, and is thus a triple sym- 
+bol of the Trinity. Paracelsus ascribes a similar, though a 
+lesser, degree of virtue to the hexagram. Another pecul- 
+iarity of the pentagram is, that it may be drawn complete 
+from one point, without lifting the pencil, and therefore be- 
+longs to those involuntary hieroglyphics which we some- 
+times make, in moments of abstraction. Thus Tennyson, in 
+The Brook : — 
+
+
+** But Katie snatched her eyes at once from mine, 
+And sketching with her slender pointed foot 
+Some figure like a wizard’s pentagram 
+On garden gravel, let my query pass.” 
+
+
+56. SONG OF THE SPIRITS. 
+This remarkable chant is known in Germany (Goethe 
+himself being, I believe, the first to so designate it) as the 
+Einschliferungslied, or Lullaby. It is one of the few things 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 267 
+
+
+in the work which have proved to be a little too much for 
+the commentators, and they have generally let it alone. By 
+Gropping all philosophical theories, however, and applying 
+to it only the conditions of Poetic Art, we shall find it easily 
+comprehensible. Faust is hardly aware (although Mephis- 
+topheles zs) that a part of his almost despairing impatience 
+springs from the lack of all enjoyment of physical life ; and 
+the first business of these attendant spirits is to unfold be- 
+fore his enchanted eyes a series of dim, dissolving views — 
+sweet, formless, fantastic, and thus all the more dangerously 
+alluring — of sensuous delight. The pictures are blurred, as 
+in a semi-dream : they present nothing positive, upon which 
+Faust’s mind could fix, or by which it might be startled : but 
+they leave an impression behind, which gradually works it- 
+self into form. The echo of the wild, weird, interlinked mel- 
+ody remains in his soul, and he is not supposed to be con- 
+scious of its operation, even when, in the following scene, he 
+exclaims to Mephistopheles : — 
+
+
+* Let us the sensual deeps explore, 
+To quench the fervors of glowing passion !”’ 
+
+
+The rhythmical translation of this song — which, without 
+the original rhythm and rhyme, would lose nearly all its 
+value — is a head and heart breaking task. I can only say 
+that, after returning to it again and again, during a period 
+of six years, I can offer nothing better. 
+
+
+57. come, a squire of high degree. 
+
+The word Yunker, which Mephistopheles uses, corre- 
+sponds exactly with “squire,” as a term of chivalry. In the 
+text of the puppet-play, when he makes his appearance the 
+second time, he is described as wohlerkleidet — respectably 
+dressed His costume on the puppet-stage was a red tunic, 
+under a long mantle of black silk, and a cock’s-feather in his 
+hat. Goethe purposely retains this costume, because it is 
+sufficiently appropriate to his conception of the character, 
+which he expressly declares is too negative to he daimontc. 
+One of the very few hints of his intention which he allowed 
+
+Q 
+
+
+258 FAUST. 
+
+
+to escape him occurs in his conversation with an English 
+gentleman in 1825, as reported by Eckermann. “Really,” 
+said he, ‘I should not have advised you to read Faust. It’s 
+fantastic stuff, and transcends all ordinary sentiment. But, 
+since you have begun of your own accord, without asking 
+.ne, you may get through it the best way you can. Faust is 
+so singular an individual that only a few persons can repro- 
+duce his spiritual conditions in their own minds. Then the 
+character of Mephistopheles, through his irony, and as the 
+living result of a vast observation of the world, is also some- 
+thing very difficult to comprehend.” 
+
+Compare, also, the remarks of Mephistopheles to the 
+witch, in Scene VI. : — 
+
+
+** Culture, which smooth the whole world licks, 
+Also unto the Devil sticks.” 
+
+
+58. This life of earth, whatever my attire, 
+Would pain me in its wonted fashion. 
+
+The first fragment of the Paralipomena possibly belongs 
+here, although there is also a place for it towards the close 
+of the scene. In the following lines, omitted alike in the 
+editions of 1790 and 1808, Mephistopheles continues to ad- 
+vise a change of costume : — 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+When with externals thou art well endowed, 
+All will around thee flock, and flatter ; 
+
+A chap who’s not a little vain or proud, 
+Had better hang, and end the matter. 
+
+
+T have not been able to find any evidence concerning the 
+date of these rejected passages of Faust. Most of the Ger- 
+man critics agree that the first part of the scene, withheld in 
+the first edition, was afterwards materially altered by Goethe ; 
+some of them even venture to point out the portions remain- 
+ing from 1775, and those added in 1798, or later. Since, 
+however, the slight difference of style perceptible in the text 
+must disappear in the translation, it is not necessary to re- 
+peat their views. 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 259 
+
+
+59. There, also, comes no rest to me. 
+
+
+“When I say, My bed shall comfort me, my couch shall 
+ease my complaint ; 
+
+“Then thou scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me 
+through visions : 
+
+‘So that my soul chooseth strangling, and death rather 
+than my life.”” — od vii. 13, 14, 15- 
+
+
+60. CHORUS OF SPIRITS. 
+
+
+Faust’s curse, which includes even the sentiment of child- 
+ish faith that overcame him on the Easter morning, places 
+him, unconsciously, in the power of Mephistopheles. The 
+Chorus of Spirits indicates, in a few powerful lines, his rup- 
+ture with the order of life. The first words of Mephistoph- 
+eles which follow, would lead the reader to suppose that 
+the spirits were infernal, and thus a singular discrepancy be- 
+tween their character and their expressions is implied. Diint- 
+zer says: “ Their cry of woe and their lament over the beauty 
+of the world, which Faust has shattered, together with his 
+designation as demigod, can only be accepted as a scoffing 
+irony of the spirits, which, equally with Mephistopheles, well 
+know that they can give him no real compensation for the 
+fortune which he has criminally rejected.” Deycks’s com- 
+ment is less logical: ‘‘ He (Faust) can only recover through 
+his own act ; in his resolute breast, by clear intelligence, he 
+can create a soil wherefrom new songs will shoot. The 
+spirits allure to a life of deeds and poetry, to the broad, 
+great world. And Mephistopheles offers himself as a guide.” 
+
+In Leutbecher’s work, however, I find a hint of what I 
+believe to be the true intention of this Chorus. He says: 
+“The pure spirits who direct the harmonies of existence la- 
+ment over his (Faust’s) step, and encourage him to com- 
+mence another and fairer career. But Mephistopheles calls 
+these voices precociously shrewd, and proposes the condi- 
+tions of his compact, promising delights which, in advance, 
+appear worthless to Faust.” The lament is certainly not 
+tronical ; on the contrary, the course of the drama, as it is 
+
+
+260 FAUST. 
+
+
+afterwards developed, is here shadowed forth by the spirits, 
+and Mephistopheles no more comprehends them than Faust. 
+He is deceived, as in the Fifth Act of the Second Part. 
+
+In the Augsburg puppet-play, Faust is attended by a good 
+Genius, who, when he has signed the compact with Mephis- 
+topheles, exclaims : ‘‘ Woe to thy miserable soul !” and dis- 
+appears. 
+
+61. A High and Low our souls await. 
+
+
+‘Oh why must we, in order to speak of such things, use 
+images which only represent external conditions! Where is 
+there anything high or low, obscure or enlightened, in His 
+sight? We, only, have an Above and Below, a Day and a 
+Night. And just therein did He (Christ) resemble us, be- 
+cause we should otherwise have no share in Him.” — W- 
+helm Meister (Confessions of a Fair Spirit). 
+
+Goethe also places one of these phrases — 
+
+
+‘* And you he dowers with Day and Night!’ — 
+in the mouth of Mephistopheles, after the compact. 
+
+
+62. Show me the fruits that, ere they're gathered, rot. 
+
+
+This passage has given rise to a great deal of discussion. 
+The offer of Mephistopheles, — 
+
+
+** What no man ever saw, I'll give to thee, —"’ 
+
+
+which provokes Faust’s exclamation, is suggested by the 
+puppet-play. In the Strassburg version, Mephistopheles says : 
+‘I will fill for thee the goblet of delight, full and foaming, 
+as it never yet has been filled to any mortal.” 
+
+Faust’s reply seems to have puzzled many of the commen- 
+tators, some of whom—as Deycks, Hartung, Rosencranz 
+and Leutbecher — pass it over with slight notice, while 
+others endeavor to analyze the meaning. The following 
+quotations embrace the prit.cipal varieties of interpreta- 
+tion: — 
+
+1. “TI know thy rotten gifts, says Faust. Which of thy 
+fine goods of the earth wilt thou offer me? How could the 
+like of thee ever be capable of measuring the unquiet of 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 261 
+
+
+man’s breast? Hast thou food to serve up which never sat- 
+isfies ? Or canst thou only show trees which daily bloom 
+anew and bud again? I loathe this foliage of yesterday, this 
+tale which, ever the same, is told in the morning, and in the 
+evening dies away again — ‘show me the fruit that rots be- 
+fore it is gathered, and trees that daily renew their green!’ ” 
+— Falk. 
+
+2. “The promise of Mephistopheles appears to Faus. 
+but mockery. What can a devil give a man to satisfy him, 
+when he is not capable of giving it to himself? The gifts of 
+a devil, he says, are but delusions, and melt away in the 
+same manner as his quicksilver-like gold ; thus he can only 
+bestow fruits which would not rot before the plucking, but 
+no ever-budding tree sprouts forth beneath his skill and fos- 
+tering.” — Schubarth. 
+
+3. “ The meaning plainly is: —I know well thou, poor 
+devil, hast riches and other fleeting pleasures, that excite 
+our longing only that they may elude our grasp, that dazzle 
+only to deceive, and whose substantial worth is always in the 
+inverse ratio of their outward promise. Wouldst thou al- 
+lure me, thou must hold out fruits that rot, not a/ffer, but 
+before they are broken, and thus cannot, like the fruits of 
+mere sensuality, deceive us by an external glow when tempt- 
+ing us on the tree, but rotting whenever the hand of enjoy- 
+ment is stretched forth to pluck them. Show me no frail 
+blossom of a fleeting spring, but ‘trees which day by day 
+their green repair.’ ” — Blackie. 
+
+4. “ The most probable supposition is, that Faust’s mean- 
+ing is pretty near the same as in the subsequent speech, in 
+which he expresses a wish to enjoy all that is parce:’ed out 
+among mankind, pain and pleasure, success and disappoint- 
+ment, indifferently. Taking this wish into consideration, we 
+may well suppose him saying: ‘ You can give nothing of any 
+rea] value in the eyes of a man like me ; but if you have the 
+common perishable enjoyments of humanity to bestow, let 
+me have them.’” — Hayward. 
+
+5. “ Faust admits that the devil has all the different kinds 
+of Sodom-apples which he has enumerated, gold that melts 
+
+
+262 FAUST. 
+
+
+away in the hand, glory that vanishes like a meteor, and 
+pleasure that perishes in the possession. But all these tor- 
+ments are too insipid for Faust’s morbid and mad hankering 
+after the luxury of spiritual pain. Show me, he says, the 
+fruit that rots defore one can pluck it, and (a. still stronger 
+expression of his diseased craving for agony) trees that fade 
+so quickly as to be every day just putting forth new green, 
+only to tantalize one with perpetual promise and perpetual 
+disappointment.” — Brooks. 
+
+A careful study of the structure of the passage does not 
+permit me to accept any of these interpretations. Omitting 
+the first three lines, the remainder is a single sentence, vio- 
+lently interrupted by a dash (—) at the end of the eighth line. 
+The two lines which follow are contemptuous and scornful 
+metaphors, summing up the catalogue of the deceitful gifts 
+which Faust admits Mephistopheles can offer. They simply 
+repeat, in another form, what he has declared in the pre- 
+ceding lines. He commences the enumeration of the pleas- 
+ures whose worthlessness he knows, — gold, love, honor, — 
+then, breaking off impatiently, exclaims, referring to those 
+pleasures : — 
+
+
+“* Show me the fruits that, ere they ‘re gathered, rot, 
+And trees that daily with new leafage clothe them !”” 
+
+
+These images express the cheating, disappointing, inade- 
+quate character of al] the usual desires of men, to “(a human 
+soul, in its supreme endeavor.”” The tone of the passage is 
+keenly scornful and incredulous. Fatst seriously desires 
+nothing from Mephistopheles, not even the morbid luxury of 
+self-torment ; and in the bet which he offers, immediately af- 
+terwards, his reference to ‘‘an idler’s bed” seems to have 
+been suggested by the words of Mephistophles, rather than 
+by the craving of his own nature for repose. 
+
+
+63. When thus I hail the Moment flying: 
+
+“Ah, still delay — thou art so fair !” 
+Here Faust becomes earnest and definite. The one mo- 
+ment of supreme contentment is for him a symbol of endless 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 263 
+
+
+capacity for happiness. The wager with Mephistopheles 
+rests upon this couplet, which the reader must bear in his 
+memory until he meets with it again, at the close of the 
+Second Part. 
+
+There is no condition of this nature in the Faust-legends. 
+The compact there is, that Faust shall have whatever he de- 
+sires for the term of twenty-four years, when he passes, body 
+and soul, into the power of Mephistopheles. The only slight 
+resemblance to this passage, in any of the various versions, 
+may be found in the Strassburg play, where Mephistopheles 
+says: “ Faust, have I not said to thee, thou canst thyself 
+break the hour-glass of thy time? Thou hast done it in this 
+moment.” 
+
+
+64. Zhen at the Doctors -banquet I, to-day. 
+
+
+Mephistopheles refers to the inauguration feast, given on 
+taking a degree. 
+
+
+65. And all of life for all mankind created. 
+
+
+‘We are justly told,’”’ Goethe continued, ‘that the culti- 
+vation in common of human capacities is desirable, and also 
+the most important of aims. But man was not born for that; 
+properly each one must develop himself as a particular indi- 
+vidual, but also endeavor to attain an apprehension of what 
+all are, collectively.” — Zckermann, 1825. 
+
+This scene commences with the above line, in the edition 
+of 1790, and continues to the end in its present form, with- 
+out the change of a word. 
+
+
+66. And I shall have thee fast and sure |— 
+
+
+Goethe frequently makes use of a dask to denote both a 
+cbange in the address and a movement of the speaker. The 
+passage discussed in Note 62 is already an instance of this 
+peculiarity. Here, Mephistopheles looks after Faust’s re- 
+treating figure, and addresses him as if he were still present. 
+At the end of the above line, he turns away and continues 
+his soliloquy, speaking of Faust in the third person. 
+
+
+264 FAUST. 
+
+
+67. Encheiresin nature, this Chemistry names. 
+
+
+With the introduction of the Student (whom we shall meet 
+again, in the Second Part, as Baccalaureus), Mephistopheles 
+not only assumes the mantle of Faust, but Goethe also as- 
+sumes the mask of Mephistopheles. The episode, which is 
+wholly his own invention, was written during his intercourse 
+with Merck, and while his experience of academic teaching 
+was still fresh and far from edifying. He gives the following 
+account (in Wahrheit und Dichtung) of his study of logic, at 
+the University of Leipzig : “‘ I was at first diligent and faithful 
+in attending the lectures, but I remained as much in the dark 
+about philosophy as before. In logic, I found it altogether 
+unaccountable why those operations of the mind, which [ 
+had from my earliest years performed with the greatest ease, 
+should first be anatomized, individualized, and torn from their 
+natural union, before one could know how to use them Of 
+the subject-matter of God, the world and the soul, I thought 
+I knew just as much as my master, and he seemed to me, on - 
+not a few points to be sadly nonplussed.” 
+
+The “Spanish boots,” of which Mephistopheles speaks, 
+were instruments of torture used in the Middle Ages. They 
+were cases of wood, into which wedges were driven until the 
+calves of the victim’s legs were compressed into the smallest 
+possible space. 
+
+From logic, Mephistopheles passes to the method of scien- 
+tific investigation, wherein Goethe seems to have remembered 
+the couplet of Pope : — 
+
+
+** Like following life in creatures we dissect, 
+We lose it in the moment we detect.” 
+
+
+In a conversation with Falk (translated by Mrs. Austin) he 
+expresses corresponding views: ‘Our scientific men are 
+rather too fond of details. They count out to us the whole 
+consistency of earth in separate lots, and are so happy as 
+to have a separate name for every lot. That is argillaceous 
+earth; that is quartz; that is this, and this is that. But 
+what am I the better if I am ever so perfect in all these 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 265 
+
+
+names? When I hear them, I always think of the old Jines 
+in Faust, — 
+
+
+* Encheiresin natura nenut’s die Chemie, 
+Bohrt sich selber Esel, und weiss nicht wie !’ * 
+
+
+““What am I the better for these lots? what for their 
+names? I want to know what it is that impels every several 
+portion of the universe to seek out some other portion, — 
+either to rule or to obey it, — and qualifies some for the one 
+part and some for the other, according to a law innate in 
+them all, and operating like a voluntary choice. But this is 
+precisely the point upon which the most perfect and universal 
+silence prevails.”’ 
+
+Jn a letter to Wackenroder, Professor of Chemistry at 
+Jena, written in January, 1832, Goethe says: Notwithstand- 
+ing we willingly allow to Nature her secret Lucheiresis, 
+whereby she creates and sustains life, and, although no 
+mystics, we must finally admit the existence of an inscruta- 
+ble something, — yet mar cannot, if his aim be earnest, re- 
+strain himself from the attempt to drive the Inscrutable into 
+such close quarters that he is at least satisfied and willing 
+to confess himself defeated.” 
+
+The phrase enchetresin nature signifies, properly, ‘‘a treat- 
+ment of Nature.” Here, however, Goethe seems rather to 
+indicate the mysterious, elusive force by which Nature oper- 
+ates. 
+
+
+68. As did the Holy Ghost dictate to thee. 
+
+
+The practice of taking notes of the discourses which they 
+hear, is universal among the German students. Many of 
+the Professors encourage it by adopting a very slow, meas- 
+ured style of delivery. The advice of Mephistopheles is 
+the keenest irony upon these formal methods of imparting 
+knowledge. 
+
+
+® This was the original form of the couplet, as written. The meaning is 
+the same as in its present form, and the expression ‘* Bohet sich selber 
+Esel’’ (which Diintzer says came from the trick of putting the hands te 
+the sides of the head and wagging them, to represent ass’s ears), was 
+probably rejected, because it is pure slang. 
+
+VOL. I. 12 
+
+
+266 FAUST. 
+
+
+69. On words let your attention centre. 
+In the Witches’ Kitchen (Scene VI.) Mephistopheles 
+says :— 
+“Man usually believes, if only words he hears, 
+That also with them goes material for thinking.” 
+Elsewhere, however, Goethe says: ‘‘ Unfortunately, words 
+are usually mere expedients for man; he mostly thinks 
+and knows a thing better than he expresses it.” In the 
+‘above passage, Mephistopheles probably refers to “the 
+letter that killeth,’’ and exalts it, in consonance with his 
+character. 
+
+
+90. The little world, and then the great, we'll see. 
+
+
+The programme of both parts of Faust is given in this line. 
+No reference to the cabalistic Microcosm and Macrocosm is 
+intended: “the little world” is here Faust’s individual ex- 
+perience of human desires and passions ; he .issues from his 
+seclusion to share in the ordinary history of men. This 
+plan is developed, so far as necessary, in the First Part. 
+“Lhe great world ” is life on a broader stage of action: in- 
+tellectual forces are substituted for sentiments and passions: 
+the narrow interests of the individual are merged in those of 
+the race ; and Government, War, activity on a grand scale 
+and for universal, permanent ends, succeed, in order that 
+Faust’s knowledge of the life of man shall be rounded into 
+completeness. The Second Part of the work is devoted to 
+this latter experience. 
+
+
+71. Lfeel so small before others, and thence 
+Should always find embarrassments. 
+
+
+The following passage is the second of the Paralipomena, 
+and was undoubtedly designed as an answer to the above 
+lines. It seems to have been written at a later period, and 
+we may conjecture that Goethe omitted the lines because 
+they are not in accord with the manner of Mephistopheles 
+throughout the scene : — 
+
+
+NOTES. 267 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Learn then from me to meet Society ! 
+
+I come, both cheerful and collected, 
+
+And every heart is well-affected ; 
+
+I laugh, and each one laughs with me. 
+
+Rely, like me, upon your own pretences ; 
+
+There 's something to be dared, you must reflect : 
+For even women easily forgive offences, 
+
+
+If one respectfully forgets respect. 
+
+Not in divining-rods nor mandrake tragic, 
+But in good-humor lies the best of magic: 
+If I'm in unison with all, 
+
+I do not see how trouble could befall. 
+Then to the work, and show no hesitation ! 
+I only dread the preparation. 
+
+
+972 J gratulate thee on thy new career. 
+
+
+The “‘ Disputation,”” which Goethe projected, for the fur- 
+ther and clearer presentation of the characters of Faust, 
+Wagner, and Mephistopheles, was probably intended to 
+follow this scene. From the rough draught of his plan, 
+retained in the Paralifomena, the reader may guess, not 
+ouly the manner in which the rejected scene would have 
+been developed, but also the considerations which compelled 
+its rejection. I shall, therefore, give Goethe’s brief and not 
+always (to any but himself) intelligible prose outline, in- 
+serting the half-dozen rhythmical fragments in what appear 
+tu be their appropriate places. 
+
+
+DISPUTATION. 
+
+
+First Semichorus, Second Semichorus, 7éti of the Students, ex- 
+pressing the situation. The crowd, the surging to and fro, the pressine 
+in and out. 
+
+STUDENTS (teéthin). 
+Just let us out ! our dinners we are seeking. 
+Who speaks, forgets both meat and drink in speaking ; 
+But he who hears, grows faint at last. 
+
+
+STUDENTS (2utthout). 
+
+
+Just let us in ! our stomachs we ‘ve been testing ; 
+Ar commons we have sought our cheer. 
+
+
+268 FAUST. 
+
+
+Just let us in! we ’ll here do our digesting ; 
+We had no wine, and spirit 's here ! ® 
+
+
+WaGner, a8 opponent. He makes a compliment Separate voices, 
+The Rector to the beadle. The beadles command order. 
+
+The TRAVELLING SCHOLAR (Mephistopheles) enters. Abuses the 
+assembly. Chorus of students, half, entire. Abuses the respondent. 
+The latter declines. 
+
+THE TRAVELLING SCHOLAR. 
+
+
+Go out ! come in! Each keep his place in quiet ! 
+Upon this threshold what a riot ! 
+
+Make room, without! let those within retire, 
+Then fill their seats as you desire ! 
+
+
+Faust accepts the challenge. Condemns his swaggering. Demands 
+that be shall particularize. 
+MaEPHISTOPHRLES complies, but immediately begins a praise of vaga- 
+bondage and the experience which it gives. 
+Semichorus. 
+STUDENTS. 
+He ’s of the wandering race, the wight ; 
+He swaggers, yet he ’s in the right. 
+
+
+Faust. Unfavorable picture of the vagabond. 
+SeMICHORUS. 
+MupnuisToPpuHEtes. Forms of knowledge, lacking to the wisdom of the 
+,chools. 
+MEPHISTOPHELES, 
+
+
+Who speaks of doubts? Let me but hear ! 
+Who doubts, must never teach, 't is clear; 
+Who teaches, must be positive ! 
+
+
+Faust. Tv ceavrdy, in the finer sense. Challenges the opponent 
+to propose questions from experience, all of which Faust will answer. 
+
+MupnisTopuHries. Glaciers. Bolognese Fire. Fata Morgana. Beast. 
+Man. 
+
+Faust. Opposing question: where is the creative mirror? 
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. Compjiment. The answer another ume. 
+
+Faust. Conclusion. Dismissal. 
+
+Crorus, as Majority and Minority of the hearers. 
+
+Wacner’s fear, that the spirits may utter what Man supposes is whi 
+pered to himself. 
+
+
+® These are parts of either Semichorus Goethe's reference to tuc 
+commons is taken from the University of Leipzig, where, during his 
+studies, a large number of the poorer students were gratuitously furnished 
+with a common dinner, but without wine. 
+
+
+NOTES. 269 
+
+
+It is also possible that this Disputation may have been 
+designed as a substitute for the conversation between Mephb 
+istopheles and the Student, in which case it must haw 
+been projected at Rome, in the spring of 1788. On the Ist 
+of March, that year, Goethe writes: ‘It has been an abun- 
+dant week, and in memory it seems like a month. First, I 
+arranged the plan of Fasst,’”’ etc. Gdschen’s edition of his 
+works, in 1790, was meant to be complete, up to that year, 
+and the publication of Faust, as a ‘‘ Fragment,” in the sev- 
+enth volume, may have been due to that circumstance alone. 
+
+
+73- AUERBACH’S CELLAR IN LEIPZIG. 
+
+
+The locality of this scene possesses a double interest, 
+through its connection with the early Faust-legend and with 
+the academic years of the young Goethe. If the stranger 
+who visits Leipzig wil] seek the large, ancient house, No. 1, 
+Grimmaische Strasse, near the Market- Place, the sign ‘‘ AUER- 
+BACHS KELLER,” nearly on a level with the sidewalk, will 
+guide him down into the two vaulted chambers which have 
+echoed to the wit and song and revelry of four centuries of 
+jolly companions. He may still take Faust’s and Goethe’s 
+place, at the head of the table in the farther room, order his 
+wine from the seventieth or eightieth successor of the origi- 
+nal landlord, and, while awaiting the preparation of some 
+old-fashioned dish, study the two curious paintings, which 
+have filled semicircular spaces under the arches perhaps 
+since the year 1525. 
+
+Legends of Faust are as plentiful in Germany as those 
+vf kobolds or subterranean emperors; but these pictures, I 
+believe, are the only local records left to our day. Wid- 
+mann’s “ Veritable History ”’ (1599) mentions the year 1525 
+as the time when Faust began publicly to practise his magic 
+arts, and the same date upon the pictures may signify either 
+the year when they were painted, or when the event occurred 
+which they illustrate. On this point there is a difference of 
+opinion among the antiquarians, since Faust’s fate is men- 
+tioned in the inscriptions. Auerbach’s house was rebuilt in 
+
+
+470 FAUST. 
+
+
+1530, but the massive, vaulted cellars were evidently left 
+from the earlier building. The pictures, which were painted 
+by no mean artist, have not only grown very dingy, but they 
+were partly repainted in the years 1636, 1707, and 1759. 
+Under the present inscriptions, which have also been re- 
+newed, there are marks of an older one, probably identical, 
+although this cannot now be established as a fact. 
+
+The first picture (about ten feet in length by four in 
+height) represents Faust, with a full beard, a ruff around his 
+neck, mantle and fur cap, seated at the head of a table, with 
+a chased goblet in his hand. Next to him is a student who, 
+with lifted arm, is pouring wine from a glass, apparently as 
+a libation. Seven others are seated at the table, two of them 
+about to drink, while five are playing upon musical instru- 
+ments, —a portable clavichord, a lyre, flute, violin, and bass. 
+viol. At the left end of the picture there is a barrel of wine, 
+with a Ganymede in trunk-hose waiting beside it. A small 
+black dog, in the foreground, appears to be watching Faust. 
+Under this picture is the inscription : — 
+
+
+VIVE. BIBE. OBGRASGARE. MEMOR FAVSTI 
+HVIVS. ET HVIVS 
+
+POENA:: ADERAT CLAVDO HAC ASTERAT 
+AMPLA GRADV. 1525. 
+
+
+Some of the German scholars read the distich thus : ~ 
+Vive, bibe, obgrecare, memor Fausti hujus et hujus 
+Poene: aderat claudo hzc, ast erat ampla gradu. 
+
+(Live, drink, carouse, remembering Faust and his punishment: it came 
+slowly, but was in ample measure. ) 
+
+The other picture shows Faust, astride of the wine-cask, 
+which is flying through the door. His face is turned towards 
+the company, and he lifts one hand as a parting salutation. 
+The landlord, servants, and students gaze at him and at each 
+other with gestures expressive of fear and astonishment. 
+The six lines of German doggerel at the bottom of the pic- 
+ture also indicate a later date, since they refer to Faust’s 
+punishment. Blackie’s translation of this inscription is very 
+good : — 
+
+
+NOTES. 271 
+
+
+* Doctor Faustus, on that tyde, 
+From Auerbach’s cellar away did ryde, 
+Upon a wine-cask speedilie, 
+As many a mother’s son did see. 
+By subtle crafte he did that deede, 
+And he received the devil’s meede.”” 
+
+
+Goethe thus followed the main legend in bringing Faus 
+to Leipzig, after the compact with Mephistopheles. There 
+are some Satirical touches in the scene, however, which show 
+that something of his own recollections was interwoven with 
+the tradition. The other incidents taken from the legends 
+receive a different coloring from the circumstance that Meph- 
+istopheles is made the principal actor, Faust being a pas- 
+sive, and even an unwilling, spectator. 
+
+
+74. Anasty song! Fie! a political song. 
+
+When this line was written, it probably expressed no more 
+than a covert contempt for the pretence of a “ holy Roman 
+(German) Empire,” which was still kept up in the coronation 
+at Frankfurt, and in various legal and official forms. Never- 
+theless, the line has been frequently quoted by Goethe’s 
+literary enemies as an evidence that he would exclude all 
+political aspiration from literature. His silence during the 
+great national movement of 1813 and 1814 has been charged 
+to an absolute indifference to the fortunes of his country 
+and race, and very arbitrary inferences have been drawn 
+in regard to his own political sentiments. In a conversation 
+with Soret, in 1830, Goethe, after confessing his hearty ad- 
+miration of the political songs of Béranger, thus expresses 
+his own views : — 
+
+“A political poem is to be considered, however, even in 
+the most fortunate case, as the voice of a single nation, and 
+in most cases as the voice of a certain party; but, when it 
+succeeds, it inspires the highest enthusiasm of the nation or 
+the party. Moreover, a political poem is also the product 
+of a certain temporary phase of things, which, in passing 
+away, deducts from the poem whatever value it may have 
+derived directly from the subject” 
+
+
+272 FA UST. 
+
+
+He further said, in answer to Soret’s reference to the 
+attacks of which he had been the object, in 1814 and after- 
+wards: ‘“‘How could I have taken up arms without hate? 
+and how could I have hated without youth? If those events 
+had found me as a young man of twenty, I should certainly 
+not have been the last, but I was already well over sixty 
+years old, when they came..... National hatred is quite 
+a peculiar thing. You will always find that it is strongest 
+and fiercest, in the lowest stages of culture. But there is 
+also a stage where it entirely disappears, where one stands 
+to some extent aéove the nations, and sympathizes with the 
+weal or woe of a neighbor people as with that of one’s own. 
+This latter stage of culture suited my nature, and I had con- 
+firmed myself in it long before reaching my sixtieth year.” 
+
+So little significance is given to the expression which 
+Brander uses, that shortly afterwards, in the same scene, 
+Mephistopheles sings a song which is nothing but the keen- 
+est political satire. 
+
+
+75. Soar up, soar up, Dame Nightingale. 
+
+The couplet which Frosch sings belongs to several of the 
+early songs of the people. The “ Message of Love,” written 
+in 1639, commences : — 
+
+“* Soar up, Dame Nightingale, speed high, 
+And to my sweetheart’s window fly!” 
+Another song, of the same period, has these lines : — 
+‘Dame Nightingale, Dame Nightingale, 
+Many thousand times my sweetheart hail !"’ 
+
+The term “Dame Nightingale” was first used by the 
+Minnesingers as early as the eleventh century, and has been 
+perpetuated in the popular songs and ballads. The second 
+fragment which Frosch sings, to annoy Siebel (who has been 
+jilted and resents these strains of love), appears to be 
+Goethe’s. 
+
+
+76. There was a rat in the cellar-nest. 
+This song, which is entirely Goethe’s own, was probably 
+
+
+NOTES. 273 
+
+
+written in September, 1775, during the height of his passion 
+for “Lili.” In a letter to the Countess Augusta von Stol- 
+berg, written from Offenbach, he says: “‘ The day has gone 
+by passably, yet rather heavily: when I got up in the morn: 
+ing, I felt well, and wrote a scene of my Faust.”” Then. 
+after describing the incidents of the day, he adds: “TI felt, 
+all the time, like a rat that has eaten poison: it scampers 
+into all holes, drinks all moisture, swallows everything eat: 
+able that comes in its way, and its entrails burn with un- 
+quenchable fire.” In the song, it is not only Brander 
+satirizing Siebel, but also Goethe satirizing himself, in 
+order to escape the unrest of the strongest attachment of 
+his life. 
+
+The introduction of Luther’s burly figure as a comparison 
+seems also intended to ridicule Siebel, who is afterwards 
+described by Altmayer as “the bald-pate pot-belly,” and is 
+thus drawn by Cornelius, in his illustration of the scene. 
+The line, nevertheless, gave great offence in certain quar- 
+ters; and when Faust (under Tieck’s direction) was pre- 
+pared for representation on the stage, in Dresden, the open- 
+ing quatrain of the song was changed in this wise : — 
+
+There was a rat in the cellar-nest 
+Who lived on butter and cheeses : 
+
+
+He had a paunch beneath his vest, 
+Like the wisest of the Chineses ! 
+
+
+77- Paris in miniature, how it refines its people. 
+
+Leipzig, under the supreme rule of Gottsched, was a faint 
+and not seldom a ridiculous reflection of Parisian taste, in 
+art, literature, and society. Although Lessing, twenty years 
+before Goethe, had dealt the first blow at the pedantry and 
+affectation of the school, Gottsched was still living, and only 
+partially shorn of his authority, when Goethe entered the 
+University. In Wahrheit und Dichtung he gives a lively 
+picture of the assumed refinements in dress, speech, and 
+manners in Leipzig, and the annoyance which he endured 
+from being compelled to imitate them. The rough, racy 
+directness of the Rhine-German was prohibited to him, as 
+
+12* R 
+
+
+274 FAUST. 
+
+
+being vulgar; he was told to use the same expressions in 
+speech as in writing, and even his gestures and movements 
+were subjected to a continual censorship. 
+
+
+78 No doubt twas late when you from Rippach started? 
+
+Rippach is the last post-station before reaching Leipzig, 
+on the road from Weissenfels. The remark of Frosch is a 
+part of the “chaff” with which the older Surschen were 
+accustomed to entertain the Faxes, or Freshmen. ‘Hans 
+von Rippach ” is a slang name, denoting a coarse, awkward, 
+boorish fellow,—in fact, an equivalent for the Scotch Saw- 
+ney, 28 itis used in some localities. By hinting that Faust 
+and Mephistopheles have been supping with Hans von Rip- 
+pach, Frosch takes a delicate way of saying that they are 
+ignorant country clowns, in comparison with the refined 
+Parisians of Leipzig. 
+
+In Wieland’s correspondence, there is a letter to Merck, 
+wherem he complains of the manner in which the world is 
+governed by “children, dandies, night-caps, blockheads, 
+Don Quixotes and Hans von Rippachs.” 
+
+
+79. There was a king once reigning. 
+
+The commentators are agreed that this song is the keenest 
+and coarsest satire upon those court-favorites who make 
+their way to place and power, provide for al] the members 
+of their family, and attack and annoy society with perfect 
+impunity, so long as they possess the favor of the ruling 
+prince. It +s conjectured by some that Goethe had in view 
+a particular favorite at the Court of Weimar. Falk says 
+that the couplet at the close, repeated as chorus, expresses 
+the freedom of the people from the restraints of the court- 
+circles, The former are at hberty to suppress plagues and 
+parasites whenever they become annoying. 
+
+
+80. A German can't endure the French to see or hear of. 
+
+
+Brander’s assertion, in this line, must not be understood 
+in a political sense. The national German sentiment, in lit- 
+
+
+NOTES. 275 
+
+
+erature, preceded by many years the political hostility, which 
+first became general and permanent under the oppressions 
+of Napoleon. But at the time this scene was written, there 
+was a strong reaction, both against Gottsched and his 
+school, and against the subserviency to French literature and 
+taste manifested by many of the reigning princes of Ger- 
+many, Frederick the Great at their head. Lessing, and 
+Klopstock in a still greater measure, had already laid the 
+basis of a literary Deutschthum (Germanism), which Goethe 
+and his contemporaries confirmed for all time. The change 
+of sentiment was first accepted by the younger generation, 
+and especially by the students, of whom Brander is the 
+shrewdest and most respectable representative present in 
+Auerbach’s Cellar. 
+
+
+81. Now draw the stoppers, and drink your fill! 
+
+Goethe took this specimen of jugglery from the legend, 
+where, however, it is not performed by Mephistopheles but 
+by Faust. It is related as having taken place in Erfurt: 
+“Spake he (Faust), whether they would not like to try a 
+foreign wine or two: answered they, Yes, whereupon he 
+further asked, whether it should be Rephal, Malvasie. 
+Spanish or French wine, and one of them laughing made 
+answer, all those kinds were good Then Faust demanded 
+a gimlet, began to bore four holes, one after another, on the 
+border of the leaf of the table, stuck in stoppers, even as 
+people stick spigots in the heads of casks, called for several 
+fresh glasses, and, when all this had been done, he drew out 
+one stopper after another, and behold! out of each of the 
+aforesaid holes flowed unto each one the wine he had re- 
+quired, even as out of four casks, from the dry leaf of the 
+table.” 
+
+By making Mephistopheles the active agent in these delu- 
+sions, the scene in Auerbach’s Cellar assumes a different 
+character from that which it bears in the legend. Faust 
+speaks but twice, once simply in greeting, and again to ex- 
+press his wish to leave. From this point, he has nothing in 
+tommon with the traditional Faust. 
+
+
+276 FAUST. 
+
+
+82. False word and form of air, 
+Change place, and sense ensnare! 
+
+
+This last prank of Mephistopheles is also borrowed from 
+the Faust-legend, although it appears to be derived from 
+some older tradition. It is thus related in the work of 
+Camerarius (1602): “Once, when he (Faust) was in com- 
+pany with some of his acquaintances, who had heard much 
+of his magic arts, they begged him to give them a specimen 
+of his powers. After refusing for a long while, be finally 
+yielded to the tumultuous request of the not wholly sober 
+company, and promised to give them whatever they desired. 
+When they then unanimously asked for a vine full of ripe 
+grapes, in the belief that he would not be able to furnish such 
+a thing in that season (it being winter, namely), Faust prom- 
+ised that he would cause a vine to grow instantly forth from 
+the table, under the condition, that, until he should allow 
+them to cut off the grapes, they would observe the deepest 
+silence and not stir in their seats, otherwise they would be 
+in peril of death, When they had accepted this condition, 
+he so deluded the eyes and senses of the carousing company 
+that they fancied to see a very beautiful vine, with as many 
+wonderfully great bunches of grapes on it as there were 
+persons present. Enticed by the marvel of the thing, and 
+thirsty from drinking, they took hold of their knives, await- 
+ing the moment when they should be allowed to cut off the 
+bunches. Faust left them for a considerable time in their 
+delusion, until finally the vine and grapes disappeared as a 
+vapor, and they perceived that they had taken the noses of 
+each other to be the bunches, and had set their knives 
+thereto.” 
+
+The refrain, “As ’t were five hundred hogs,” etc., which 
+the students sing, after drinking the various wines, has the 
+character of certain coarse Bacchanalian measures, still 
+common to their class. Perhaps the resemblance in sound 
+between sax/f” (swill !) and saw (sow) originally suggested the 
+use of the latter as a vulgar slang word. Even Goethe once 
+speaks of himself, in a letter to Merck, as being saswohd. 
+
+
+NOTES. 277 
+
+
+83. Witches Kitchen. 
+
+
+Neither this scene nor the Walpurgis-Night (Scene X XI.) 
+has any connection with the Faust-legend. The chief motive 
+of the Witches’ Kitchen is, of course, the passional! rejuve- 
+nation of Faust, as introductory to the episode of Margaret; 
+but Goethe, with a wilful spirit, not unfrequently manifested 
+in his life and writings, seems to have also designed bur- 
+lesqueing the machinery of witchcraft and its use in litera- 
+ture. He wrote the scene towards the close of March, 1788, 
+in the gardens of the Villa Borghese, outside the wall of 
+Rome, at a time when his mind was thoroughly possessed 
+with the grace and beauty and irrecoverable symmetry of 
+ancient art. Perhaps, therefore, the very contrast between 
+his strong zsthetic passion and the character of his theme 
+led him to give the latter the ugliest, coarsest, and absurdest 
+expression. The scene has been a puzzle to many com- 
+mentators, because in the dialogues of Mephistopheles, the 
+Witch, and the Animals, some occult meaning is often pro- 
+vokingly implied. Goethe was too admirable an artist not 
+to bave intended this very effect, and not to have accom- 
+plished it by the simplest method, — that of giving the jargon 
+of witchcraft to his own definite ideas ; but, that there was 
+no necessary coherence between those ideas, no consistent 
+allegory intended, is evident from his own words, reported 
+by Falk: “They have now been tormenting themselves 
+for nearly thirty years with the broomsticks of the Blocks- 
+berg and the cat-dialogues of the Witches’ Kitchen, but they 
+have never yet rightly succeeded in interpreting and alle- 
+gorizing that dramatic-humoristic nonsense. Really, one ought 
+to play the joke oftener in his youth, and give them such 
+morsels as the Brocken.” [There is an untranslatable pun 
+in the original —solche Brocken wie den Brocken.] 
+
+There has been a great deal of not very important discus- 
+sion as to the meaning of the word Meerkatee. It has been 
+translated ‘“‘ Monkey,” “‘ Baboon,” “‘Cat-Ape,”’ “ Cat,” and 
+“Little Ring-tailed Monkey.” I follow Mephistopheles, 
+himself, in using the word “ Ape,” (Wie giiicklich wiirde sich 
+
+
+278 FAUST. 
+
+
+der Affe schétzen !) which will answer as well as any other 
+for those who insist on symbolism. Goethe probably took 
+his Meerkatser from the legend of Reineke Fuchs, wherein 
+they are introduced. 
+
+
+84. Full thirty years from my existence. 
+
+There is here an apparent contradiction between the age 
+of Faust and that which is implied in the first scene. The 
+deduction of thirty years, we must suppose, should leave him 
+as a youth of twenty, to begin his new experience of life ; 
+yet we can hardly imagine the man who has been teaching 
+for only ten years, and has barely attained his Doctor’s de- 
+gree, to be more than thirty-five. Diintzer thinks this is an 
+oversight of Goethe, arising from the long interva) between 
+the composition of the two scenes. 
+
+
+85. We're cooking watery soup for beggars. 
+
+Here we have a clew to some of the masked satire ia the 
+scene. In July, 1797, Goethe writes to Schiller concerning 
+a volume which he sends at the same time: “ Herewith 
+goes the again murdered, or rather putrefied, Gustavus IJ. ; 
+it is really just such a beggars’ soup as the German public 
+likes.” Falk died before the correspondence was published, 
+or he would not have given the following explanation of the 
+line: ‘An ironical reference to the coarse superstitions 
+which extend with a thick palpable shade among all nations 
+throughout the history of the world.” There seems to be no 
+doubt that in this expression and in the disjointed rhymes 
+uttered by the he-ape, Goethe meant to designate certain 
+classes of literary works, popular in Germany at the time. 
+
+
+86. Wert thou the thief. 
+
+
+The art of divination by means of a sieve (4oshinomancy) 
+was known to the ancients : it is mentioned in the third idy] 
+of Theocritus. In the life of Campanella—the Dominican 
+monk, with whose work, De Sensu Rerum, Goethe appears 
+to have been acquainted—the following story occurs: 
+“Some boys had lost a mantle, and in order to find ou 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 279 
+
+
+whither it had taken its flight, they hung up a sieve by the 
+middle on a peg, and then uttered the words ‘In the name 
+of St. Peter and in the name of St. Paul, has not so and so 
+stolen the mantle?’ They went over a number of names in 
+the same manner, but the sieve remained immovable, till 
+they pronounced the name of Flavius, and then it began to 
+wheel round about. Campanella, who saw it, was much 
+astonished, and prayed with the boys that God would not 
+suffer them to be blinded by the devil ; and, on making the 
+trial again, as soon as the name of Flavius was pronounced, 
+it began to wheel round about in a circle.” — Adelung, 
+Blackie's translation. 
+
+
+87. What dol see? What heavenly form revealed. 
+
+
+Some of the commentators insist that the form which Faust 
+sees in the magic mirror is that of Margaret, whom he meets 
+in the following scene; others suppose it to be Helena, 
+although when she appears in the Second Part (end of 
+Act I.) he expressly declares that the vision in the mirror 
+was but “a frothy phantom of such beauty.” A reference 
+to Goethe’s Jetters from Rome is all that is needed to satisfy 
+us that it is not an individual, but the perfect beauty of the 
+female form, which fascinates the eyes and brain of Faust. 
+Indeed, his exclamation, “Is it possible, then, that woman 
+is so beautiful?” indicates this, without any further evidence. 
+
+For nearly a year Goethe occupied himself with the study 
+of the human form, drawing from the antique and from life, 
+modelling in clay, and striving to develop a little technical 
+ability in Art. At the commencement of this period of 
+study he writes : ‘‘ Now at last I am possessed by the a/pha 
+and omega of all known things, the human form, and I cry: 
+‘Lord I will cling to thee until thou blessest me!’ though 
+I grow lame in the struggle.”’ Eight or nine months later, 
+just before his departure from Rome, he says: ‘‘In sucha 
+presence [that of the antique sculptures] one becomes more 
+than one’s ordinary self; one feels, that the noblest subject 
+with which we can b2 occupied, is the human form.” In 
+other letters he speaks of the disinclination with which he 
+teturns to ‘* formdess Germany.” 
+
+
+
+
+
+280 FAUST. 
+
+
+The image in the mirror is not a sensual but a purely 
+zsthetic symbol, the significance of which is not further 
+developed in the First Part of the work. The coarser ele- 
+ment through which Mephistopheles achieves a temporary 
+power over Faust is represented by the potion which the 
+witch administers to the latter. 
+
+
+88. We hear and we rhyme. 
+
+
+These lines, with the preceding and following ones, have 
+(perhaps purposely) a mixed significance. The crown which 
+the animals bring may be that of France, which, though 
+glued or belimed with the sweat and blood of the people, 
+was virtually broken at the time the passage was written ; 
+yet the line quoted above certainly refers again to the dreary 
+jingle of an inferior class of poets, who now and then, by 
+sheer good luck, get possession of a thought. The remark 
+of Mephistopheles, just before the appearance of the witch, 
+must be understood in the same sense. The reader must 
+not expect more than a half-interpretation of these passages, 
+and that only by giving up the idea of a coherent design. 
+
+
+89. 1t’s long been written in the Book of Fable. 
+
+
+The conversation between Mephistopheles and the witch 
+is full of ironical suggestions. It ridicules the popular idea 
+of the Devil, with his horns, hoofs, and the attendant ravens 
+(borrowed from Odin); it slyly refers to the denial of a 
+personal Spirit of Evil. promulgated by Kant in his philoso- 
+phy and Schleiermacher in his theology; it asserts that, 
+although men may be rid of the Evil One, there is not there- 
+fore any the less evil in the world ; and, by implication, satir- 
+izes the aristocracy through the claim of Mephistopheles to 
+the title of Baron. 
+
+
+90. This ts the witch's once-one’s-one ! 
+The common schoolboy term for the multiplication-table 
+in Germany is Ziama/leins, from its commencement, Zinmal 
+tins ist eins — once one is one! The jargon which the witch 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 281 
+
+
+declaims from the book is nothing but a nonsensical parody 
+of the cabalistic formula of the Middle Ages, wherein mysti- 
+cal properties are attributed to numbers. 
+
+In the Paralipomena, there is a verse which is generally 
+attributed to the omitted Disputation, yet which seems more 
+appropriate in this place. Mephistopheles says (apparently 
+to Faust) : — 
+
+Now, once for all, mark this, I pray — 
+A maxim weighty for thine actions ! 
+
+
+No mystery the numbers here convey, 
+Yet there ’s a great one in the fractions. 
+
+
+Ql. A contradiction thus complete. 
+
+
+The irreverent irony of Mephistopheles in this passage 
+hardly needs explanation. Some of the commentators have 
+shown great skill in avoiding the true interpretation. Hin- 
+richs, for example, asserts that it refers to Hegel’s system of 
+philosophy! Diintzer says: “One should properly attribute 
+this irony to Mephistopheles alone, and entirely absolve the 
+poet from it.” Goethe, nevertheless, used the mask of 
+Mephistopheles whenever it suited his convenience. In 
+1824, when speaking to Eckermann of his early life, he said : 
+‘I believed in God, in Nature, and in the final triumph of 
+Good over Evil; but that was not enough for the pious 
+souls. I was also required to believe that Three were One, 
+and One was Three, against which the instinct of truth in 
+my soul revolted: moreover, I could not perceive how I 
+should be helped thereby, in the slightest degree.” 
+
+Although the witch bewilders Faust when she speaks 
+again, she nevertheless expresses an article of Goethe’s 
+poetic creed — that the truest and deepest insight into things 
+is not the result of conscious labor, but falls upon the mind as 
+a free, pure, unsuspected gift. His distaste for metaphysics 
+arose from the fact that it forced him to think about his 
+thinking; whereas his object always was to preserve the 
+freedom, freshness, and spontaneous activity of his mind. 
+The lines declaimed by the witch suggest another of his 
+ephoristic fragments : — 
+
+
+282 FA OST. 
+
+
+Yes, that is the proper way, 
+
+When one can’t say 
+
+What one thinks, 
+
+If one thinks ; 
+
+But everything comes as if freely given ! 
+
+
+92. The noble indolence [ll teach thee then to treasure. 
+
+
+Mephistopheles understands very well that an indolent, 
+unregulated habit of life contributes to the growth of all 
+forms of physical appetite. He shows, throughout, such 
+familiarity with theological matters, that we may not un- 
+reasonably suspect him of having taken a hint from Dr. 
+
+
+Watts :— 
+** For Satan finds some mischief still 
+
+
+For idle hands to do.”’ 
+
+
+Perhaps Mephistopheles also recalled these lines, from 
+Milton’s Paradise Regained : — 
+“* For Solomon, he lived at ease, and full 
+Of honor, wealth, high fare, aim’d not beyond 
+
+
+Higher design than to enjoy his state : 
+Thence to the bait of women lay exposed.”’ 
+
+
+93- MARGARET. 
+
+
+We now take leave of the original Faust-legend, which 
+will not again be encountered until the appearance of Helena, 
+in the Second Part. The episode of Margaret is Goethe's 
+own creation, from beginning to end, and here, even more 
+than in the first monologue of Faust, he ‘‘ delved in his own 
+breast’’ for the passion which he represents. Margaret is 
+drawn partly from her namesake, whom Goethe, as a boy of 
+sixteen, imagined he loved ; and partly from his betrothed, 
+Lili (Anna Elizabeth Schénemann, the daughter of a banker 
+in Frankfurt), for whom he felt probably the strongest love 
+of his life, at the time these scenes of his Faust were written, 
+
+Gretchen (Maggie), or Margaret, is one of the fairest and 
+sweetest figures in the fifth book of Wasrheit und Dichtung. 
+Goethe describes how his facility in writing poems for occa- 
+sions brought him accidentally into society very much below 
+that into which he was born. Some of these chance com: 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 283 
+
+
+panions were even disreputable, and his association with 
+them was finally broken off by the legal investigations con- 
+cerning a forgery which one of them committed. Ata house 
+where they met, Margaret first appeared to wait upon them 
+in the place of a maid-servant. She was three or four years 
+older than Goethe, who was then in his sixteenth year, and 
+her quiet grace, beauty, and natural dignity made an instant 
+and deep impression upon him. “She was for the most 
+part,” he says, “calm and quiet. Her habit was to sit with 
+her arms crossed, leaning upon the table, a position which 
+showed her to great advantage ; and she would thus sit for 
+a long time together, with now and then a slight motion of 
+her head, which, however, was never made without meaning. 
+At times she threw in a word to help on the conversation, 
+but when she had done this, she immediately resumed her 
+calm and quiet attitude of attention.” 
+
+The account he gives of her manner suggests Faust’s first 
+interview with Margaret: “She gave no one her hand, not 
+¢ven me; she allowed no one to touch her: only, she often 
+sat down beside me, especially when I wrote or read aloud, 
+and then she placed her arm familiarly on my shoulder, 
+looked into the book, or on my verses, but when I attempted 
+to take the same freedom with her she immediately drew 
+back, and did not return so soon again. Yet she often re- 
+peated this position, and, indeed, there was a great uniform- 
+ity in all her gestures and motions, though they were always 
+graceful and beautiful.” 
+
+The last time Goethe saw her, just before the arrest of the 
+forger, she kissed him on the forehead at parting; but both 
+his love and self-love were bitterly wounded when, in the in- 
+vestigation which took place —and from which she came 
+forth with a spotless character —she testified that she had 
+looked upon him as a boy in whom she felt the interest of an 
+elder sister, and had encouraged his innocent liking for her 
+for the purpose of watching over and protecting him. She 
+left Frankfurt soon afterwards, and Goethe never heard of 
+ber again. 
+
+The engagement between Goethe and Lili, to whom he. 
+
+
+284 FAUST. 
+
+
+wrote some of his finest brief lyrics, was broken off by the 
+opposition of their respective families. The uncertainty and 
+unrest of his love is reflected in that of Faust. All the 
+scenes in which Margaret appears, up to that in the Cathe- 
+dral (Scene XX.), with the exception of Faust’s encounter 
+with Valentine (Scene XIX.), were written during the spring 
+of 1775, and Goethe’s relation to Lili was not finally broken 
+off until August of that year. 
+
+Margaret is one of the most pure and pathetic creations in 
+literature. Ignorant, uneducated (she uses none but the 
+simplest words and sometimes speaks ungrammatically), art- 
+lessly vain, yielding to deceit, and finally led to infamy, 
+crime, and madness, she is both real in her words and ways 
+and ideal in her embodiment of the pure woman-nature, and 
+of that alone. The German critics have made her typical 
+of many things, but she will always remain what Goethe 
+intended her to be —simply a woman. In her language, 
+throughout, there are no references except to Goethe’s own 
+early experiences of love: the reader may study her charac- 
+ter for himself, although an indescribable bloom and fresh- 
+ness is lost in transferring her story to another language. 
+
+
+94. How short and sharp of speech was she. 
+
+
+Perhaps the word “snappish” would best express the 
+meaning of the German phrase 4urs angebunden. Lord Leve- 
+son Gower, deceived by the form of the idiom, fell into a 
+very amusing blunder. He translates the couplet : — 
+
+* As with her gown held up, she fled, 
+That well-turned ankle well might turn one’s head !” 
+
+We are less surprised that a French translator should 
+have made the same mistake, and given the first line thus : 
+“Comme elle avait des courtes jupes!” “Even Blaze, whose 
+translation in many other respects is so careful and intelli- 
+gent, says: “‘ Quel corsage bien pris!” 
+
+
+95: Most Worthy Pedagogue, take heed ! 
+
+
+The original, Mein Herr Magister Lobesan, is given in a 
+different form by almost every translator. Goethe perhaps 
+
+
+NOTES. 285 
+
+
+borrowed the expression from the title of a satirical poem by 
+Neumeister, published in 1624—‘“ The Crowned M., in 
+German, Magister Lobesan.” Diintzer says it is a nick- 
+name applied to a Magister who makes a pompous display 
+of his dignity. Inasmuch as Faust ironically assumes that 
+Mephistopheles attempts to teach him morals, I have chosen 
+the word “ Pedagogue” as an equivalent. The following 
+are some of the varieties of translation, and they may help 
+the reader to a clearer comprehension of the phrase :— 
+
+Brackig. — Sir Knight of Pedantry. 
+
+Haywarp. — My good Mr. Sermonizer. 
+
+Brooks. — My worthy Master Gravity. 
+
+Martin. — Master Graveairs. 
+
+Leveson Gowsgr. — Mr. Check-my-speed. 
+
+ANsTER. — Most Reverend. 
+
+Brresrorp. — Sir Laudable. 
+
+
+96. As in Italhtan tales ’t is taught. 
+
+The word welsche (or wélscke) may signify either French 
+or Italian: in the Middle Ages it was often used in the 
+sense of “foreign.” Hartung supposes that by welsche 
+Geschich? Goethe simply meant romances, of whatever coun- 
+try; but it seems more probable that he had in mind the 
+amorous stories of Boccaccio, or the Heptameron. 
+
+
+97. O welcome, twilight soft and sweet ! 
+
+
+The reader will not fail to notice the entire change in 
+Faust, since the preceding scene, although only a few hours 
+are supposed to have elapsed. The “ atmosphere” upon 
+which Mephistopheles has calculated in advance, exercises 
+an influence of which he seems to be ignorant, while Faust, 
+after his first surrender to the new impression, hardly rec- 
+ognizes himself. At the meeting with Margaret, it is the 
+witch’s potion which speaks through him: here, the better 
+though obscure aspiration (vide the ‘* Prologue in Heaven’”’) 
+repossesses him, under the new, blissful, yet disquieting 
+form of love. Mephistopheles is, naturally, incapable of un- 
+derstanding the transformation in Faust’s feelings, because 
+the strongest negation of his denying nature is that of love. 
+
+
+
+
+
+286 FA OST. 
+
+
+Goethe was not only keenly sensitive to the operation of 
+atmospheric influences upon the mind, but he also believed 
+in the existence of a spiritual aura, through which impres- 
+sions, independent of the external senses, might be commu- 
+nicated. It is the atmosphere of peace, and order, and 
+contentment, and chastity, which unconsciously touches 
+Faust, in Margaret’s chamber; and it is the sultry breath 
+of evil,-of impending temptation and ruin, which oppresses 
+Margaret on her return. 
+
+
+98. J know not, should I do it? 
+
+
+Faust is so far redeemed by his awakening love that he 
+hesitates to use the gift which he had commanded Mephis- 
+topheles to furnish. The latter purposely misunderstands his 
+hesitation, and accuses him of wishing to keep the casket of 
+jewels for himself. Nevertheless, it is he, and not Faust, 
+who places the casket in the press. 
+
+
+99. There wasa King in Thule. 
+
+
+According to Goethe’s statement this ballad was written 
+in July, 1774, when he repeated it to his friend Jacobi. It 
+does not appear to have been originally intended for Fausé, 
+as were the songs in Auerbach’s Cellar; yet it is most fitting 
+that Margaret, in this crisis of her fate, should sing a ballad 
+of love and death, wherein the word Buhle (mistress or 
+leman) has a prophetic character. The “ King of Thule” 
+was first published in 1782 in a collection of ‘‘Sungs of the 
+People,” set to music by Baron von Seckendorff, with the 
+announcement added: ‘“‘ From Goethe’s Dr Faust.” ‘This 
+was eight years before the publication of this scene, in the 
+‘“‘ Fragment.” 
+
+It would seem impossible for any one to read the ballad 
+and not be satisfied with the story it so simply tells; yet one 
+of Goethe’s commentators, Hartung, insists on the following 
+interpretation: “It is based, like the ballad of ‘The Fisher.’ 
+on a deeper meaning. For, while the dying King grants all 
+else to his heirs, the elements, he gives only to the great 
+ocean that which is must precious to him—his Self, his 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 284 
+
+
+soul, which he desires shal] be united to the world-soul, no 
+matter whether it shall melt as a drop into the element of 
+soul-ether, or, hardened into a pearl, continue its individual 
+existence.” 
+
+As I have stated in the Preface, the feminine rhymes of 
+the first and third lines of each verse have been omitted, in 
+order to make the translati»n strictly literal. I have taken 
+this liberty (the only one I have allowed myself, in the lyri- 
+cal passages of the work) the more readily, because the 
+redundant syllable partly atones to the ear for the absence 
+of rhyme. In this instance I have considered it especially 
+necessary to preserve the simplicity of the original, and (if 
+that be possible) the weird, mystic sweetness of its move- 
+ment. To show how entirely these qualities may be lost, in 
+a language further removed from German than ours, I quote 
+Blaze’s translation of the last two verses : — 
+
+
+* Puis, se levant, le vieux compére 
+Huma le dernier coup vital, 
+Et jeta le sacré métal 
+Dans les vagues de l’onde amére. 
+
+
+“Tl le vit tomber, s’engloutir ; 
+Et quand il n’eut plus aucun doute, 
+Sentit ses yeux s’appesantir, 
+Puis jamais ne but une goutte ” 
+
+
+100. With heavenly manna she'll repay it 
+
+
+Margaret’s mother seems to have quoted from Revelation 
+fi. 17: “To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the 
+hidden manna,” and the parson, in the line “ Who over- 
+cometh, winneth too,” remembers verses 7, 11, and 26 in the 
+same chapter. 
+
+
+ror. THE NEIGHBOR’s HOUSE. 
+
+
+This scene surely requires no further explanation than 
+that contained in the two succeeding notes. The characters 
+ef Martha, Margaret, and Mephistopheles are placed before 
+us, in the clearest manner, by a few simple, realistic touches. 
+I need not repeat the conjectures of critics concerning Dame 
+
+
+288 FAUST. 
+
+
+Martha’s age and personal appearance. Here, and in Scene 
+XII., she is represented with such distinctness that the reade- 
+cannot mistake the part which Goethe intended her to fill. 
+If anything further were necessary, Mephistopheles charac- 
+terizes her sufficiently, in the following scene. 
+
+
+102. Jn Padua buried, he is lying, 
+Beside the good Saint Antony. 
+
+If this is anything more than a random statement of Meph- 
+istopheles, the irony is neither keen nor especially impor- 
+tant. The Saint is not the Antony of the Desert and the 
+temptations and the Irish ballad, but Antonio of Padua, a 
+relative of Godfrey of Bouillon. He was born in Lisbon in 
+1195, preached with such fervor that even the fishes rose to 
+the surface of the sea to listen to him, and died in Padua in 
+1231. The splendid basilica in which his ashes rest was not 
+completed until two centuries later. His chapel, with its 
+alti rilievi by Lombardi, Sansovino, and others, still attracts 
+the student of art. 
+
+Interments within the walls of cathedrals and churches in 
+Italy were not prohibited until the year 1809. 
+
+
+103. J want his death in the weekly paper stated. 
+
+
+There is, in Germany, an official registration of all mar- 
+riages, births, and deaths, which are published at stated 
+intervals. The laws relating to marriage require both par- 
+ties to furnish testimony that there are no legal impediments 
+to their union; hence the officially published death of Herr 
+Schwerdtlein is necessary, before Dame Martha can prop- 
+erly be considered a widow and at liberty to accept a second 
+spouse. 
+
+
+104. For thou art right, especially since I must. 
+
+
+Faust, in this line, admits his dependence on the aid of 
+Mephistopheles, and the necessity of giving false testimor. 
+in order to procure an interview with Margaret. No change 
+in the character of his passion is implied. 
+
+There is a passage in the Paralifomena which seems natu- 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 289 
+
+
+raily co belong here, although some of the German commen- 
+tators have given it a different place. Mephistopheles says, 
+apparently after Faust’s departure, when he has impatiently 
+spoken che above line : — 
+
+
+’T is hard, indeed, the younker’s ways commanding ; 
+Yet, as his tutor, I’ve no fear 
+
+I shall not rule the madcap, notwithstanding, 
+And nothing else concerns me here. 
+
+His own desires J let him follow slowly, 
+
+That mine, as well, may be accomplished wholly. 
+Much do I talk, yet always leave him free ; 
+
+If what he does should quite too stupid be, 
+
+My wisdom, thes, must make a revelation, 
+
+And I must drag him forth, as by the hair: 
+
+Yet, while one strives the folly to repair, 
+
+One gives for other folly fresh occasion. 
+
+
+105. All times I'll have to think on you, all places ! 
+
+
+These two lines are literally: ‘Think but a little mo- 
+ment’s space on me; I shall have time enough to think of 
+you.” I have been obliged, by the exigency of rhyme, to 
+express the latter phrase in different words; yet this is one 
+or those instances where #0 English words, though they may 
+perfectly convey the meaning, can possibly carry with them 
+the fulness and tenderness of sentiment which we feel in the 
+original. “/ch werde Zeit genug an euch su denken haben” 
+suggests, in some mysterious way, a contrast between Faust’s 
+place in life and Margaret’s, between the love of man and 
+that of woman, which the words do not seem to retain, when 
+translated. 
+
+
+106. She plucks a star-flower. 
+
+
+The original, sternd/ume, may mean either a china-aster, a 
+star-of-Bethlehem, a variety of primrose or of jonquil. Va. 
+rious modes of amorous divination by means of flowers were 
+known to the ancients (one of them is mentioned by Theoc- 
+ritus), and the Minnesinger, Walther von der Vogelweide, 
+describes a very similar method of ascertaining whether a 
+lover’s affection is returned. The single daisy (Ganseb/iim- 
+
+VOL. L 13 s 
+
+
+290 FAUST. 
+
+
+then in German) is sometimes used for the same purpose, 
+but it is a garden-flower, of course, which Margaret plucks. 
+
+
+107. J/t’s as tf nobody had nothing to fetch and carry. 
+
+The effect of a double negative in German is precisely the 
+same as in English, and it belongs equally to the vulgar dia- 
+lect. Goethe introduces it intentionally here as well as in 
+Scene XVI., where Margaret says, speaking of Mephistoph. 
+eles: ‘One sees that in nothing no interest he hath.” 1 
+have not felt at liberty to correct these purposed inelegances, 
+as most translators have done. They are trifling touches, 
+it is true, but they belong to the author’s design. 
+
+
+108. FOREST AND CAVERN. 
+
+
+Most of the German critics unite in the opinion that this 
+scene must have been written during Goethe’s residence in 
+Rome, or immediately after his return to Weimar. There is 
+a certain slight variation in tone which distinguishes it from 
+the earlier scenes. Mr. Lewes, in his ‘“ Life of Goethe,” 
+says: “I do not understand the relation of this scene to 
+the whole.” But, in his sketch of the growth of Fusst, Mr. 
+Lewes does not seem to be aware of the publication of the 
+“Fragment” in 1790. The “ Forest and Cavern” is there 
+given, not in its present position, but immediately after the 
+scene “ At the Fountain” (Scene XVII.), and consequently 
+after Margaret's fall. Goethe’s first design was, evidently, 
+to drive Faust from Margaret’s presence through the re- 
+morse following the deed, and his transfer of the scene to its 
+present place substitutes a moral resistance in advance of 
+the deed for the earlier motive. The character of Faust’s 
+love is not only elevated by this change, but the element of 
+good in his nature is again actively, and not merely rea 
+tevely, developed. 
+
+Some commentators have found a contradiction between 
+Faust’s almost inspired enjoyment of Nature in this scene, 
+and the character of his first monologue. Yet, if we read 
+the latter carefully, we shall find it pervaded with a longing 
+for ‘‘the broad, free land,” for release from the imprison- 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 291 
+
+
+ment of unsatisfying studies. His impatience is not with 
+Nature, but with the inadequacy of the physical sciences, 
+which endeavor to wrench from her “with levers, screws. 
+and hammers,” the secrets “which she doth not willingly 
+display.” Faust looks on Nature, now, with the eyes of a 
+lover, and she is transformed to his senses. It is no longer 
+a cold, amazed acquaintance ; her bosom is open to him -s 
+that of a friend, and all living creatures become his brothers. 
+The scoff of Mephistopheles does not move him, but he at 
+last succumbs to the picture which the latter draws of Mar- 
+garet’s loneliness and sorrow. 
+
+In Wahrheit und Dichtung we find the original suggestion 
+of the scene. After Goethe’s separation from the Margaret 
+of his boyhood, and the illness which followed, the paternal 
+government was more rigidly enforced. He was furnished 
+with a private tutor, a man of intelligence and of a kindly, 
+sympathetic nature, who soon became a friend. Goethe, 
+nevertheless, remained depressed and boyishly misanthropic 
+foratime. “I drew my friend with me into the woods,” he 
+says. ‘‘Leaving the monotonous fir-trees behind me, I 
+sought those beautiful, leafy groves, which are, indeed, of no 
+very great extent in that region, but are nevertheless of a 
+size sufficient to furnish concealment for a poor wounded 
+heart. I selected, in the deepest part of the wood, a sombre 
+spot where the ancient oaks and beeches grandly overshad- 
+owed a broad space of soil. The ground sloped upwards, 
+which added to the effect of the massive old trunks. This 
+clear space was surrounded with dense thickets, out of which 
+rose the venerable forms of moss-grown rocks, and an abun- 
+dant brook poured over them in a rapid cascade..... 
+
+“What I then felt, is still present to my mind; what I 
+said, it would be impossible for me to recall.” 
+
+Hartung, in his comment on this scene, says: ‘‘He 
+(Faust) also shanks God that He has given to him the com- 
+rade whom he can no longer do without,” etc. The reader 
+can judge for himself whether Faust does not simply toler- 
+ate the presence of Mephistopheles, through his conviction 
+that “nothing can be perfect unto man,” and the new ec- 
+
+
+
+
+
+202 FAUST. 
+
+
+stasy he feels must therefore be balanced by the degrading 
+fellowship. 
+
+
+109. One dares not that before chaste ears declare. 
+
+
+“Qui reprehendunt et irrident quod ea quz re turpia nor 
+sint, nominibus ac verbis flagitiosa ducamus, illa autem que 
+turpia sint nominibus appellemus suis : latrocinare, fraudare, 
+adulterare re turpe est, sed dicitur non obscene ; liberis 
+dare operam, re honestum est, nomine obsccenum.” — Cicero, 
+
+
+Of: I., 35- 
+
+
+110. Enough of that! Thy love sits lonely yonder. 
+
+
+Mephistopheles is shrewd enough to perceive that Faust 
+is thus far insensible to his mockery. He here suddenly 
+changes his tactics, and draws such a picture of the forsaken 
+Margaret that Faust, even in the exclamation “ Serpent: 
+serpent!” betrays how much he is moved. In this excla- 
+mation, and the assae¢ of Mephistopheles, I have omitted the 
+rhyme of the original, which could not possibly be repro- 
+duced without losing the subtile suggestiveness of the words. 
+Mr. Brooks nearly overcomes the difficulty by translating as 
+follows : — 
+
+
+Faust. Viper! Viper! 
+MEPHISTOPHELES (aside). Ay, and the prey grows riper I 
+
+
+111. “ Were la little bird!” so runs her song. 
+
+
+This is an old song of the people in Germany. Herder 
+published it in his Voldshieder, in 1779; but it was no doubt 
+already familiar to Goethe in his childhood. The original 
+melody, to which it is still sung, is as simple and sweet as 
+the words. I cannot do better than to borrow Mr. Brooks's 
+translation, which is very literal : — 
+
+
+‘* Were I a little bird, 
+_Had I two wings of mine, 
+I’d fly to my dear; 
+But that can never be, 
+So I stay here. 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 293 
+
+
+‘¢ Though I am far from thee, 
+Sleeping I ’m near to thee, 
+Talk with my dear; 
+
+When I awake again, 
+I am alone. 
+
+
+“* Scarce there ’s an hour in the night 
+When sleep does not take its flight, 
+And I think of thee, 
+
+How many thousand times 
+Thou gav’st thy heart to me.” 
+
+
+The expression “wept beyond her tears” is ausgrweint 
+(outwept) in the original. Goethe probably remembered 
+the line of Dante (/n/ferno, Canto XX XIII.) : — 
+
+
+Lo pianto stesso li pianger non lascia. 
+
+
+‘* Weeping itself there does not Jet them weep, 
+And grief that finds a barrier in the eyes 
+Turns itself inward to increase the anguish.” 
+Long fellow’s translation. 
+
+
+112. On your twin-pair, that feed among the roses. 
+
+
+The Song of Solomon is one of those books of the Old 
+Testament which Faust, in his contract with Mephistoph- 
+eles, according to one form of the old legend, was permitted 
+to read. We should not be surprised, therefore, to find the 
+latter quoting from it, although not quite correctly. 
+
+‘“‘ Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins, 
+which feed among the lilies.” — iv. 5. 
+
+Mr. Hayward quotes from a private letter to himself the 
+following singular advice which Schlegel gives in regard te 
+this couplet : — 
+
+“Je ne vous conseille pas de traduire cela littéralement. 
+On jeterait les hauts cris.” 
+
+
+113. MARGARET (at the spinning-wheel, alone). 
+
+
+This and the foregoing scene may be considered as nearly 
+identical in time. The lovers are separated: Faust strug- 
+gles with all the force of his nobler instinct to resist his 
+passion, while Margaret is wholly possessed by an intense, 
+anreasoning yearning for his presence. In representing her 
+
+
+294 FA OST. 
+
+
+as seated at the spinning-wheel, Goethe again remembers 
+the Margaret of his boyhood. Visiting the house on one 
+occasion, to meet, by appointment, the circle into which he 
+had been drawn, he says: ‘Only one of the young people 
+was at home. Margaret sat at the window and span; the 
+mother went back and forth..... She (Margaret) arose, 
+left her spinning-wheel, and approaching the table where I 
+sat gave me a severe lecture, yet with much good sense and 
+kindness.” | 
+
+Although some have fancied that in the opening line, 
+Meine Ruk’ ist hin, the lulling sound of the spinning-wheel 
+is indicated, the verses are meant to be a revery, not a song. 
+They are, indeed, articulate sighs ; the lines are almost as 
+short and simple as the first speech of a child, and the least 
+deviation from either the meaning or the melody of the 
+original (even the change of meine into my, in the first line) 
+takes away something of its indescribable sadness and 
+strength of desire. In the first verse, which is twice re- 
+peated as a refrain, I have been obliged to choose between 
+the repetition of the word feace in the third line and the use 
+of a pronoun which cannot, as in the German, fix its antece- 
+dent by its gender. The reader who prefers the grammatical 
+form to the more natural expression will at least understand 
+that it is here impossible to give both. There are prece- 
+dents for either alternative, in former translations. 
+
+
+114. Hear me not falsely, sweetest countenance ! 
+
+
+When Faust says, ‘‘ And as for Church and Faith, I leave 
+to each his own,” it is Goethe who speaks. His maxim 
+through life was not only tolerance but a respectful recogni- 
+tion of all forms of religious belief. Margaret here repre- 
+sents a class not peculiar to Germany. She insists on a 
+categorical explanation of Faust’s views, and when, in an- 
+swer to her question: “‘ Believest thou in God?” he hints at 
+the impossibility of comprehending the Divine Essence, she 
+misses the familiar phrases of her creed, and immediately 
+infers: ‘“‘ Then thou believest not!” 
+
+The passage which follows has been the subject of a great 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 295 
+
+
+deal of comment, from Madame de Staél (in her De ’Alle- 
+magne) to the latest writer on Faust. There is, however, 
+sufficient evidence that Goethe meant to state his own — 
+imperfect, as he admitted it to be — conception of the Deity. 
+He read Spinoza at an early age, and frequently expressed 
+his concurrence in the views of that philosopher, concern- 
+ing the ‘“‘immanence” of God in all things. The sun, the 
+stars, the earth, the human heart and all its emotions, are 
+simply “ invisible, visible’? manifestations of His existence. 
+Goethe’s intention is to acknowledge Him in His Infinite 
+aspects, not to define or describe Him. 
+
+In 1829, he said to Eckermann: “ The period of doubt is 
+past: every one, now, would as soon think of doubting his 
+own existence as that of God. Moreover, the nature of God, 
+immortality, the being of the soul and its connection with 
+the body are eternal problems, wherein the philosophers are 
+unable to give us any further knowledge.” 
+
+Two years later, Eckermann gives the following report of 
+Goethe’s views. The latter was then eighty-two years old. 
+‘* He is very far from supposing that he truly apprehends the 
+Highest Being. All his ora) and written utterances have 
+inculcated the belief that God is an inscrutable Existence, 
+whereof man has but approximate glimpses and presenti- 
+ments. All Nature and we human beings are, nevertheless, 
+so penetrated with the Divine element, that it sustains us, 
+that in it we live, work and be; that we sorrow and rejoice 
+through the operation of eternal laws, which we fulfil and 
+which are fulfilled in us, whether we perceive them or not. 
+He is firmly convinced that the Divine Power is everywhere 
+manifested, and that the Divine Love is everywhere active.” 
+
+In 1823 Goethe said to Soret: ‘‘ With the people, and 
+especially with the clergymen, who have Him daily upon 
+their tongues, God becomes a phrase, a mere name, which 
+they utter without any accompanying idea. But if they were 
+penetrated with His greatness, they would rather be dumb, 
+and for very reverence would not dare to name Him.” 
+
+This passage in Faust has sometimes been designated 
+“Goethe’s creed,” —an expression which he would have 
+
+
+296 FAUST. 
+
+
+repelled, since he considered all creeds as attempts to express 
+something beyond the reach of human intelligence. In 1813 
+he wrote to his friend Jacobi: ‘‘ For my part, with the mani- 
+fold directions in which my nature moves, I cannot be satis- 
+fied with a single mode of thought. As Poet and Artist J 
+am a polytheist ; on the other hand, as a student of Nature 
+I am a pantheist, — and both with equal positiveness. When 
+I need a God for my personal nature, as a moral and spirit- 
+ual man, He also exists for me. The heavenly and the 
+earthly things are such an immense realm, that it can only 
+be grasped by the collective intelligence of all beings.” 
+
+Whether Faust’s explanation is pantheism, in either a 
+spiritual or a materialistic form ; whether it is an ss#doctrinal 
+view permitted to a Christian, or, as Margaret fears, there is 
+“no Christianity ” in it, — are questions which the reader 
+will decide for himself. The terms Pantheism, Materialism, 
+and even Christianity, are so liable to random and partisan 
+use, that I prefer to leave without comment a passage, of 
+which Mr. Lewes says: “ Grander, deeper, holier thoughts 
+are not to be found in poetry.” 
+
+
+115. AT THE FOUNTAIN. 
+
+
+This is another of the scenes written in 1775. Its direct 
+and occasionally coarse realism has been condemned by some 
+critics, and one or two of the expressions have generally 
+been softened in translation. The vulgarity of Lisbeth, 
+nevertheless, has a purpose. Margaret is made to feel her 
+own situation, and the disgrace awaiting her, through the 
+expressions applied to the unfortunate Barbara, and the 
+reader’s sympathy is secured, with his first knowledge of her 
+fall. I have therefore translated the scene without change, 
+on the same principle which the Germans have adopted in 
+translating Shakespeare. 
+
+
+116. And we'll scatter chaff before her door. 
+The word Adckerling signifies either chaff or chopped straw 
+The old German custom, which is still observed in some 
+parts of the country, allowed the bridal wreath only to chaste 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 297 
+
+
+maidens. If one of sullied reputation ventured to assume it, 
+the wreath was torn from her head, and sometimes replaced 
+with one of straw, while on the eve of the marriage chaff 
+or chopped straw was scattered before her door. A widow 
+who marries again is allowed to wear a wreath, but not the 
+myrtle of the maiden bride. 
+
+Church-penance for unchastity was also formerly common 
+im England. In Germany the guilty person was obliged to 
+kneel before the altar, clad in a “sinner’s shift,” while the 
+clergyman severely rated her conduct, and read her petition 
+for pardon. 
+
+
+117. DONJON. 
+
+
+The word Zwinger, which Goethe uses, corresponds to 
+our “stronghold ” or ‘‘ donjon keep,” but is also sometimes 
+applied to the open angular space between the wall of a 
+town and one of the fortified gates. Goethe seems to use 
+the word in the latter sense. The shrine of a saint was 
+frequently placed in the re-entering angle, between which 
+and the city-wall there would be a partly enclosed space. 
+Mephistopheles represents Margaret as watching the clouds 
+“over the old city-wall,” from her window, whence her 
+home must have been in the street nearest to it, and the 
+shrine of the Mater Dolorosa, being close at hand, would be- 
+come her accustomed place of prayer. I have followed all 
+other translators in using the word donjon, simply because 
+we have no English word to describe the locality. 
+
+The opening of Margaret’s prayer suggests the well-known 
+Latin hymn of Jacoponus, written towards the close of the 
+thirteenth century :— 
+
+
+Stabat mater dolorosa 
+Juxta crucem lacrimosa, 
+Dum pendebat filius ; 
+Cujus animam gementem, 
+Contristatum et dolentem, 
+Pertransivit gladius, 
+
+
+Tf the revery at the spinning-wheel be a sigh of longing, 
+this is a cry for help, equally wonderful in words and metre ; 
+1 *# 
+
+
+
+
+
+2098 FAUST. 
+
+
+yet with a character equally elusive when we atterapt to 
+reproduce it in another language. 
+
+
+118. VALENTINE, a soldier, Marguret's brother. 
+
+
+This scene appears to have been written some time during 
+the year 1800, and probably after the completion of the Wal 
+purgis-Night (Scene XXI.). Goethe had been occupied, at 
+intervals, for some time previous, with the Aedena (Part Sec- 
+ond, Act III.), which he finally laid aside, with the determi- 
+nation to fill the gaps yet remaining in the First Part, before 
+proceeding further. In the Royal Library at Berlin, there is 
+an autograph manuscript of the scene, dated ‘ 1800.” 
+
+Niintzer insists that the unity of the plot is disturbed by 
+the introduction of Valentine, whose death, he asserts, has 
+no intimate connection with Margaret’s fall. Goethe’s de- 
+sign, nevertheless, may be easily conjectured, and the poets, 
+we imagine, will take sides with him against the critic. The 
+guilt of blood, which the action of Mephistopheles brings 
+upon Faust, obliges the latter to fly from the town, and he is 
+thus prevented from learning the shame and misery which 
+swiftly come upon Margaret. Without such a motive, his 
+flight would be a heartless desertion, at variance with the 
+expressions of his love in the preceding and following scenes. 
+Moreover, while the consequences of Margaret's fault suc- 
+ceed each other with terrible, cumulative retribution, her 
+right to pity and sympathy increases with them. We could 
+ill spare this picture of Valentine, the brave soldier, the hon- 
+est man, whose death is another necessary link in the fatal 
+chain of Margaret's destiny. 
+
+
+119. Saw splendid lion-dollars in’t. 
+
+The remark of Faust refers, apparently, to some buried 
+treasure which Mephistopheles has promised to raise for 
+him. ‘Lion-dollars” are of Dutch coinage, and so called 
+both from the city of Louvain (in German, Lowen —lion), in 
+Brabant, where they were first struck, and from the figure 
+of a lion on the obverse. They are also sometimes named 
+“ Brabanters.” A few specimens are still occasionally seen 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 299 
+
+
+in Germany: their value is about eighty-five cents. Hay. 
+ward is mistaken in saying that the lion-dollar is a Bohe- 
+mian coin. 
+
+“It was a generally disseminated belief that the interior 
+of the earth contains treasures, which must be raised by 
+whoever would possess them. It was supposed that the 
+treasure moved of itself, slowly seeking to approach the sur- 
+face. At stated times, frequently once in seven years, but 
+sometimes only once in a hundred, the treasure is above, 
+and waits to be lifted. If this is not accomplished, because 
+the necessary conditions are not fulfilled, it sinks back again. 
+It is generally contained in a kettle, and its approach to the 
+surface is indicated by a flame hovering over the spot.” — 
+Dinter. 
+
+120. What dost thou heref 
+
+The song of Mephistopheles is directly suggested, as 
+Goethe admitted (vide Note 8), by the song of Ophelia, in 
+Hamlet (Act IV., Scene V.):— 
+
+“Good morrow, ’t is Saint Valentine’s day, 
+All in the morning betime, 
+
+
+And I a maid at your window, 
+To be your Valentine. 
+
+
+“* Then up he rose, and don’d his clothes, 
+And dupped the chamber door ; 
+Let in the maid, that out a maid 
+Never departed more.” 
+
+
+In Schlegel’s translation, St. Charity (in the third verse) 
+is rendered St. Kathrin, whence Goethe probably took the 
+name “ Kathrina dear.” It also seems probable that the 
+name given to Margaret’s brother, Valentine, was suggested 
+by “your Valentine” in Ophelia’s song ; and all the more 
+so, since its Latin original, valens, is specially appropriate to 
+a soldier. 
+
+121. Rat-catching piper, thou! 
+
+
+Browning’s poem of “The Pied Piper of Hamelin” is so 
+well known that I need not give the old German legend to 
+which Valentine’s exciamation refers. Goethe’s song, Der 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+300 FAUST. 
+
+
+Rattenfanger, expresses still more clearly the meaning which 
+he attaches to the phrase. The man who charms innocent 
+maidens by his seductive arts, even as the piper by the notes 
+of his magical pipe charmed the rats of Hamelin, is a rat- 
+catcher. In “Romeo and Juliet” (Act III. Scene I.) Mer- 
+cutio says :— 
+
+“Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?” 
+
+
+122. Out with your spit, without delay ! 
+
+Flederwisch, the slang German word for ‘“‘sword,” which 
+Mephistopheles uses, means a goose’s wing, such as is used 
+by economical housewives for dusting furniture. Hayward 
+translates ‘“toasting-iron,” borrowing the expression from 
+Shakespeare; Mr. Brooks says “whisk,” and Mr. Martin 
+“duster,” — both of which are literal ; yet, in this instance, [ 
+prefer to use a cant word which is equivalent to the original. 
+
+
+123. CATHEDRAL. 
+
+
+This is the closing scene of “ Faust: a Fragment,” and 
+the last but one in which Margaret appears. She returns to 
+the Cathedral, before which Faust first met her in the street, 
+as she was coming from confession, where, as even Mephis- 
+topheles admits : — 
+
+“ So innocent is she, indeed, 
+That to confess she had no need.”’ 
+
+Without this contrast, the terrible power of the scene 
+must be felt by every reader. The short, unrhymed lines 
+express both the hoarse whispered threats of the Evil Spirit, 
+and the panting agony of the sinner. The line: ‘‘ Upor 
+thy threshold whose the blood ? ” fails in the edition of 1790. 
+and was added on account of the foregoing scene, which was 
+afterwards written. The confusion of Margaret’s thoughts, 
+presaging her later insanity, is indicated in the first words 
+3he utters. 
+
+
+124. Dyes tra, dies illa. 
+
+
+Goethe has elsewhere acknowledged the powerful impres- 
+sion which this old Latin chant made upon himself. Some 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 301 
+
+
+have attributed its arthorship to Gregory the Great, and 
+others to Bernhard of Clairvaux; but the scholars seem now 
+to be generally agreed that it is not of later origin than the 
+thirteenth century, and that Thomas of Celano was proba- 
+bly its author. It was accepted by the Roman Church, as 
+one of the seguentia of the requiem, before the year 1385. 
+The original text is engraved upon a marble tablet in the 
+church of St. Francesco in Mantua. The present form of 
+the chant is supposed to have been given by Felix Hammerlin 
+(in the early part of the fifteenth century), who omitted the 
+former opening stanzas, and added some others at the close. 
+In this form it has appeared in the Catholic missals, since 
+the Council of Trent. The chant has been translated up- 
+wards of seventy times into German, and fifteen times into 
+English. One of the closest versions, of the few in which 
+the feminine rhymes are retained, is that of Gen. John A. 
+Dix, who thus renders the first stanza : — 
+** Day of wrath, without a morrow ! 
+
+
+Earth shall end in flame and sorrow, 
+As from saint and seer we borrow.” 
+
+
+125. Fudex ergo cum sedebit. 
+
+
+We must suppose that the singing of the chant continues, 
+ahd that there is a pause after the close of the first verse, be- 
+fore the Evil Spirit again speaks. His second address cer- 
+tainly points to the third verse, of which it is a paraphrase: — 
+
+Tuba mirum spargens sonsim 
+Per sepuichra regionum 
+Coget omnes ante thronum. 
+
+Goethe passes over this and the two following verses until 
+the sixth, which is now quoted. Margaret is overpowered by 
+the declaration contained in it that all things hidden shall be 
+brought to light, and no guilt shall remain unpunished. 
+
+
+126. Quid sum miser tunc dicturus ? 
+
+
+This, the seventh verse, is most appropriately chosen for 
+the climax of the effect produced on Margaret by the grand 
+and terrible chant. Ifthe just shall be saved with difficulty, 
+
+
+
+
+
+302 FAUST. 
+
+
+what plea shall be uttered by this miserable sinner? In the 
+original, also, the threat of wrath and retribution culminates 
+here, the remaining ten verses having the character of peni- 
+tence and supplication. Diintzer censures Goethe for re- 
+peating the line: “ Qusd sum miser tunc dicturus?" for the 
+reason that it is not repeated in the Catholic service, and in- 
+sists that he ought to have given the first line of the follow- 
+ing verse — “‘ Rex tremenda mayestats,” instead of it. But 
+the poet, who prefers dramatic truth to the correctness of a 
+minute detail which is of no importance, justifies himself. 
+
+
+127. Neighbor! your cordial! 
+
+The original word, F/aschchen, means simply a phial; but 
+it is evidently the neighbor's pocket-flagon of smelling-salts 
+for which Margaret asks. In most of the English versions 
+we find “smelling-bottle,” but Mr. W. Taylor, of Norwich, 
+in his “ Historic Survey of German Poetry ” (London, 1830), 
+says “‘ Your dram-bottle! ” 
+
+
+128. WaALPURGIS-NIGHT. 
+
+
+This scene was written in 1800, probably twenty-five years 
+after its first conception. It is announced in the Witches’ 
+Kitchen (Scene VI.), in the words of Mephistopheles: ‘“‘ Thy 
+wish be on Walpurgis-Night expressed.” Goethe was ac- 
+customed to carry his poetical designs about with him for a 
+long time, from a sense of possession and private enjoyment 
+which he lost after they had been written. Perhaps, also, 
+his feeling for the repose and symmetry of classic art, which 
+was awakened during his Italian journey, and which mani- 
+fests itself in /phigenia in Tauris, Tasso, and even in Her- 
+mann and Dorothea, rendered it more difficult for him to 
+resume a theme so purely Gothic. He once said to Ecker- 
+mann: “I employed myself but once with the devil and 
+witch material; I was then glad to have consumed my 
+Northern inheritance, and turned again to the banquets of 
+the Greeks.” The original manuscript of the Walpurgis- 
+Night is in the Royal Library of Berlin: it is dated Novem 
+ber 5, 1800. 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 303 
+
+
+The title and character of the Witches’ Sabbath on the 
+summit of the Brocken, on the night between April 30 and 
+May 1, spring equally from the old and the new religion. 
+Walpurgis (or Walpurga, which is the most usual form of 
+the name) was the sister of Saints Willibald and Wunnibald, 
+and emigrated with them from England to Germany, as fol- 
+lowers of St. Boniface, in the eighth century. She died as 
+abbess of a convent at Heidenheim, in Franconia, and after 
+the extirpation of the old Teutonic faith became one of the 
+most popular saints, not only in Germany, but also in Hol- 
+land and England. The first of May, which was given to 
+her in the calendar, was the ancient festival-day of the Dru- 
+ids, when they made sacrifices upon their sacred mountains, 
+and kindled their May-fires. Inasmuch as their gods be- 
+came devils to their Christian descendants, the superstition 
+of a conclave of wizards, witches, and fiends on the Brocken 
+—or Blocksberg— naturally arose, and the name of the 
+pious Walpurgis thus became irrevocably attached to the 
+diabolical anniversary. The superstition probably grew 
+from the circumstance that the Druidic rites were celebrated 
+by night, and secretly, as their followers became few. Goethe 
+describes such a scene in his Cantata of ‘The First Wal- 
+purgis-Night ” (written in 1799), wherein his Druid sentinel, 
+on the lookout for suppressive Christians, sings : — 
+
+
+*¢ Mit dem Teufel, den sie fabeln, 
+Wollen wir sie selbst erschrecken.” 
+
+
+(With the Devil, whom they fable, 
+They themselves shal] now be frightened.] 
+
+
+Mr. Lewes is mistaken when he says: “ The scene on the 
+Blocksberg is part of the old Legend, and is to be found in 
+many versions of the puppet play.” There is no trace of it 
+in any of the forms of the legend or play which I have exam- 
+ined. The carnival of the witches on the Blocksberg is a 
+much older tradition than that of Faust, and the two were 
+never united in the popular stories, Johann Friedrich 
+Léwen, a native of Clausthal, in the Hartz, published in 
+1756 a comical epic, entitled “‘The Walpurgis-Night,” 
+
+
+304 FAUST. 
+
+
+wherein, apparently for the first time in literature, Faust 
+appears on the Blocksberg. I quote the following lines as 
+a specimen :— 
+
+
+“‘ At Beelzebub’s left hand there Doctor Faust was sitting ; 
+He filled his glass and drank most bravely, as was fitting, 
+And when the nectar made their spirits warm and strong, 
+The spectres cried ‘hurrah!’ Faust sang a drinking-song.”’ 
+
+
+Goethe was no doubt acquainted with this poem ; but the 
+Brocken itself, which can be seen in clear weather from the 
+Ettersberg near Weimar, or the Kiickelhahn at Ilmenau, al- 
+ways possessed a special attraction for him. In December, 
+1777, he first ascended the mountain, and thereafter wrote 
+his celebrated poem, ‘“‘ Hartz-Journey in Winter.” Before 
+leaving for Italy, he again twice made the ascent, both 
+through the region of Schierke and Elend, and on the north- 
+ern side, up the valley of the Ilse. 
+
+The Hartz Mountains are an isolated group, lying be- 
+tween the Elbe and Weser rivers, and their central and 
+highest peak, the Brocken, has an elevation of three thou- 
+sand eight hundred feet above the sea. It is a dark, wild 
+region, with forests of fir and birch on the lower heights, 
+traversed by foaming streams, one of which, the Bode, is 
+shut in by perpendicular walls of trap rock, severa] hundred 
+feet in height. On the loftier ridges huge masses of granite 
+interrupt, and sometimes overtop, the forests. Climbing the 
+Brocken in 1845, I passed the Walpurgis-Night in the high- 
+est inhabited house below the summit, which I reached the 
+next morning after wandering upwards for three hours 
+through a terrible storm. The descent in the afternoon, 
+through Schierke and Elend, under drifting masses of black 
+cloud and a driving scud of hail, snow, and rain, suggested, 
+at every step, the description of the scenery in Faust. 
+Schierke, the highest village in the Hartz, is a collection of 
+rude, weather-beaten wooden houses, surrounded by rocks 
+of the most fantastic shapes. Elend is two or three miles 
+distant, and much lower. The most spirited and picturesque 
+description of the Faust-scenery of the Hartz has been 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 305 
+
+
+given by Heine, in his Retsedsider — “ Pictures of Travel,” 
+which have been translated by Mr. Charles G. Leland. 
+
+A fragment of two lines in the Paralipomena was probably 
+intended for the opening of this scene : — 
+
+
+Faust. 
+
+
+The further northward one may go, 
+The plentier soot and witches grow. 
+
+
+129. The moon's lome disk, with its belated glow. 
+
+“The field of love, hate, hope, despair, and whatever other 
+names may be given to the conditions and passions of the 
+soul, is the poet’s natural inheritance, and he may use it 
+successfully. But he has no inherited instinct of how a 
+court of justice — for instance — is held, or how a parliament 
+or an imperial coronation is conducted ; and in order not to 
+violate truth the poet must make such subjects his own 
+through observation or acceptance from others. Thus, in 
+Faust, I was easily able to possess, by instinctive perception, 
+the gloomy mood of weariness of life in the hero, as well as 
+Margaret’s sentiment of love ; but, to say, for example : — 
+
+* How sadly rises, incomplete and reddy, 
+The moon’s lone disk, with its belated glow,’ — 
+
+/ 
+some previous observation of nature was necessary.” — 
+Goethe to Eckermann, 1824. 
+
+The time being near midnight, the moon, then rising, 
+would be approaching her last quarter. 
+
+I cannot give a better illustration of the efforts made bv a 
+certain class of German critics to attach a symbolical mean- 
+ing to every part of Faust, than the assertion of Leutbecher, 
+that the two lines : — 
+
+** The spring-time stirs within the fragrant 5irches, 
+And even the fir-tree (ich@e) feels it now,” 
+indicate the brrching which Fichte gave to Nicolai, in his 
+paper entitled : ‘“‘ Friedrich Nicolai, his Singular Opinions,” 
+&c.! Unfortunately for Leutbecher, this paper was pub 
+fished a year after Goethe wrote the Walpurgis-Night. 
+T 
+
+
+306 FAUST: 
+
+
+130. Hear them snoring, hear them bowing ! 
+
+Some of the huge, rocky “snouts,” near the village of 
+Schierke, have long been called Dse Schnarcher, The Snor- 
+ers. Near one of these rocks the magnet shows a great 
+variation, whence the people of the neighborhood claim that 
+it is the central-point of the world. Mephistopheles says, in 
+the Classical Walpurgis-Night (Second Part of Fass?) : — 
+
+The Snorers snarl at Elend, snorting peers ! 
+And all is finished for a thousand years- 
+
+Shelley translates the couplet with great spirit : — 
+
+) “The giant-snouted crags, ho! ho! 
+
+How they snort and how they blow !” 
+
+His version of the Walpurgis-Night, although not very 
+faithful, and containing frequent lines of his own interpola- 
+tion, nevertheless admirably reproduces the hurrying move- 
+ment and the weird atmosphere of the original. This is 
+the more remarkable since he disregards, for the most part, 
+the German metres. 
+
+
+138. How raves the tempest through the air [ 
+
+
+The word which I have translated “tempest,” is Wseds- 
+brant (wind’s-bride) in the original. It is the word employed 
+by Luther, in his translation of the Bible, for the italicized 
+words in the following verse from Acts (xxvii. 14): “ But 
+not long after there arose against it a fempestuous wind, 
+called Euroclydon.” A sudden and violent storm is still 
+called Windsbraut by the common people, in some parts of 
+Germany. 
+
+
+132. The witches ride to the Brocken’s top. 
+
+The same general explanation which has been applied to 
+the Witches’ Kitchen (vide Note 83) is also valid here. In 
+the separate voices and choruses which follow, a meaning is 
+constantly suggested, because each is arbitrarily attached to 
+a basis of satire or irony, without any necessary consistency 
+between them. Most of the German commentators suppose 
+that the crowding and pushing of the “‘ boisterous guests” 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 307 
+
+
+towards the summit of the Blocksberg is symbolical of the 
+Storm and Stress period of German Literature; but the 
+argument could not be made clear to the English reader, 
+without giving a comprehensive sketch of that period. I 
+shall, therefore, only mention those references concerning 
+which the critics are generally agreed. 
+
+Sir Urian is a name which was formerly ased to designate 
+an unknown person, or one whose name, even if known, it 
+was not thought proper to mention. In this sense it was 
+sometimes applied to the Devil. In the Parseval of Wollf- 
+ram von Eschenbach, the unprincipled Prince of Punturtois 
+is called Urian. 
+
+Hayward says of the omitted words in this verse: “In 
+Aristophanic language—the witch repdéra:, the he-goat 
+xwaBpé.” 
+
+
+133. Alone, eld Baubo’s coming now. 
+
+Baubo, in the Grecian myths, was the old nurse of Deme- 
+ter, or Ceres ; who, when the latter was plunged in grief for 
+the loss of Persephone, endeavored to divert her by inde- 
+cent stories and actions, and thus, finally, provoked her to 
+laughter. Goethe, therefore, makes her symbolize the gross, 
+shameless sensuality, which, according to all popular tradi- 
+tions, characterized the congregations of the witches, wiz- 
+ards, and devils. 
+
+
+134. Woman's a thousand steps ahead. 
+
+Riemer relates that Goethe, in the year 1807, said to him: 
+“When a woman once deviates from the right path, she 
+then walks blindly and regardless of consequences towards 
+evil; and a man who walks the evil way cannot begin to 
+keep pace with her, for he always retains a sort of con- 
+science, while she allows nature to work unchecked.” 
+
+
+135. Vetwe'vre dernally sterile still. 
+“ That is, they know all the rules by which to avoid faults, 
+but beyond this negative talent their powers do not reach, 
+and the very care with which they wash and cleanse, hinders 
+
+
+
+
+
+308 FAUST. 
+
+
+their productivenese. ‘To be free from faults, is both the 
+lowest and the highest degree ; for it springs from either 
+impotence or greatness.’ ”” — Hartung. 
+
+“It applies to the merely critical efforts of the day, which 
+can never attain to a creative character.” — Deychs. 
+
+“‘ These always washing, even bright and clean wizards, are 
+without doubt the zsthetic art-critics, to whom nothing is 
+ever right, but who themselves are unable to produce the 
+slightest thing.” — Dsintszer. 
+
+“The Blocksberg is the congregation of the evil ones, 
+the collection of the rabble who perversely follow mistaken 
+views of knowledge, will and power.” — Rosenkranz. 
+
+
+136. Drissle, whistling through the dark. 
+
+Shelley gives the following translation of this verse: — 
+
+“ The wind is still, the stars are fled, 
+The melancholy moon is dead ; 
+The magic notes, like spark on spark, 
+Drizzle, whistling through the dark.” 
+
+The Jast couplet here so perfectly retains the character ot 
+Im Sausen sprikt that I do not see how it could be other- 
+wise rendered without loss; and I therefore prefer to borrow 
+from Shelley rather than offer a less satisfactory translation. 
+
+
+137. 1’m climbing now three hundred years. 
+
+
+“ This can only mean Science (more than three hundred 
+years had elapsed since the revival of the sciences), which 
+cannot properly advance, because it is hindered by pedantry, 
+by the restriction of the schools (the rocky cleft).” — 
+Dintser. 
+
+“It means the cities and provinces of Germany, whereof 
+there were many at that time, which remained behind the 
+general development of the age.” — Deycks. 
+
+The “ Half-Witch,” who follows below, after the double 
+chorus, is generally accepted as indicating those half-talents 
+which, with all their ambition, never rise above mediocrity, 
+and are therefore bitterly jealous of the more gifted minds 
+which easily distance them in the race. 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 309 
+
+
+138. Make room! Squire Voland comes! 
+
+
+“In the poets of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries we 
+frequently meet with the word Védanét as a designation of 
+the Devil. In Berthold’s Diary we find the Evil One once 
+named as Sgvive Volland—in the play of Frau Jutta as the 
+Kuil Volland. The word means either ‘seducer’ or ‘the 
+Wicked One.’” — Diintser. 
+
+
+139. MEPHISTOPHELES (who all at once appears very old). 
+
+
+Whether the four characters who have just been intro- 
+duced are so many individual satires (Neycks, for instance, 
+asserts that the Author represents the Romantic school, 
+headed by Tieck and the Schlegels), is a point concerning 
+which the critics are not agreed But that the episode is a 
+general satire on the conventional, and therefore reactionary, 
+element in politics and literature is very evident. The words 
+of Mephistopheles and his assumption of age must be ac- 
+cepted as a burlesque imitation of the tone of the four speak- 
+ers: he simply takes up the strain and exaggerates it to the 
+point of absurdity. One of the German commentators, nev- 
+ertheless, considers that Mephistopheles gravely expresses 
+his own views. His explanation is: ‘“ And because the con- 
+tradictions of life and thought have reached their highest 
+pitch, but at the same time have found their end and solu- 
+tion, does Mephistopheles convince himself that he has 
+ascended the Blocksberg for the Jast time.” 
+
+The remaining fragments (Paralipomena) which belong to 
+the Walpurgis-Night may properly be given here: — 
+
+
+MEpnisTOPHELES, 
+Though but a bagpipe, give us music! Haste! 
+We have, like many noble fellows, 
+Much appetite and little taste. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+The piper famous 
+Of Hamelin, also mine old friend, 
+The dear rat-catcher who can tame us, 
+How goes — 
+
+
+310 FAUST. 
+
+
+Tue Rat-caTcHer oF HAMELIN. 
+
+
+I’m very well indeed, I thank you: 
+
+I am a hale and well-fed man, 
+
+Of twelve Philanthropines the patron, 
+And therewithal [a char/atan). 
+
+
+The Rat-catcher, here, is certainly Basedow, one of Goethe’s 
+early friends. He was a native of Hamburg, born in 1723, 
+and was noted as a teacher, even before his adoption and 
+advocacy of Rousseau’s system of education gave him a 
+wider and more important reputation. In 1774 he estab- 
+lished a model school, under the name of The PAslanthropin, 
+at Dessau. After four years, he left the place, and until his 
+death in 1790 was engaged in trying to establish similar in- 
+stitutions in other cities. 
+
+The word in brackets is Hartung’s suggestion for the 
+completion of the line. Diintzer thinks it should be Gro- 
+bian — “ boor.” 
+
+
+140. No dagger’s here, that set not blood to flowing. 
+Some commentators suppose that the “‘ Huckster- Witch” 
+(literally, a seller of all kinds of old rubbish) was intended 
+for the famous Nuremburg antiquarian, Von Murr; others 
+that the eccentric Hofrath Beireis, who had a remarkable 
+collection of curiosities at Helmstadt, was the original. 
+This is not a matter of much importance: the English 
+reader will be more interested in the resemblance between 
+the catalogue of the witch’s wares, and that given by Burns 
+in “Tam O’Shanter.” Goethe was probably acquainted 
+with the poems of Burns at the time the Walpurgis-Night 
+was written, ten years after the publication of ‘Tam O’Shan- 
+ter.” In a conversation with Soret, in 1827, he spoke with 
+great admiration of the Scottish poet, and gave evidence of 
+an intimate knowledge of his songs. For the sake of conr 
+parison, I quote the passage from ‘“‘ Tam O’Shanter” : — 
+** Coffins stood round like open presses, 
+
+That shaw‘d the dead in their last dresses ; 
+
+And by some devilish cantrip slight, 
+
+Each in his cauld hand held a light, — 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 318 
+
+
+By which heroic Tam was able 
+
+To note upon the haly table, 
+
+A murderer’s banes in gibbit airns; 
+Twa span-lang, wee, unchristen’d bairns; 
+A thief, new cutted frae a rape, 
+
+Wi’ his last gasp his gab did gape; 
+Five tomahawks wi’ bluid red-rusted ; 
+Five scymitars, wi’ murder crusted ; 
+
+A garter, which a babe had strangled ; 
+A knife, a father’s throat had mangled, 
+Whom his ain son o’ life bereft, 
+
+The gray hairs yet stack to the heft.” 
+
+
+Hayward is incorrect in stating that Goethe’s poem of 
+“The Dance of Death” clearly preceded ‘Tam O’Shanter.” 
+The correspondence with Knebel shows that the former 
+poem was written in October, 1813. Its character, more- 
+over, is quite distinct and original: not a line in it suggests 
+either Burns or the Walpurgis- Night. 
+
+
+141. Adam's first wife is she. 
+
+
+Burton, in his ‘‘ Anatomy of Melancholy,” says: “The 
+Talmudists say that Adam had a wife called Lilis before he 
+married Eve, and of her he begat nothing but devils. 
+
+The name, from the Hebrew root Zé/, darkness, signifies 
+the Nocturnal. The word occurs in Isaiah (xxxiv. 14); in 
+the Vulgate it is translated Zama, in Luther’s Bible Kodold, 
+and in our English version, screech-ow/l. According to the 
+Rabbinical writings, Lilith was created at the same time with 
+Adam, in such a manner that he and she were joined to- 
+gether by the back, as it is written, ‘‘male and female cre- 
+ated He them, and called their name Adam.” In this condi- 
+tion they did not agree at all, but quarrelled and tore each 
+other continually. Then the Lord repented that He had 
+made them so, and separated them into two independent 
+bodies; but even thus they would not live in peace, and 
+when Lilith devoted herself to witchcraft and courted the 
+society of Devils, Adam left her altogether. A new wife, 
+Eve, was afterwards created, to compensate him for his do 
+westic misfortune. 
+
+
+312 FAUST. 
+
+
+Lilith is described as having beautiful hair, in the meshes 
+of which lurk a multitude of evil spirits. She has such 
+power over infants — for eight days after birth for boys, and 
+twenty days for girls — that she is able to cause their death. 
+It was therefore the custom to hang an amulet, inscribed 
+with the names of the angels Senoi, Sansenoi, and Sanman- 
+geloph, around the child’s neck at birth; and from the 
+Latin exorcism Lilla abi! sung by the mother, some have 
+derived our word ZLud/aéy, although it has also a more ob- 
+vious derivation. Lilith was equally a seductress of young 
+men, using her golden hair as a lure to captivate them; but 
+the youth who loved her always died, and after his death a 
+single hair from her head was found twisted around his 
+heart. Mr. Dante Gabriel Rossetti has embodied this tra- 
+dition in a fine sonnet. 
+
+
+142. A lovely dream once came to me. 
+
+
+Byron, who read Shelley’s translation of the Walpurgis- 
+Night in manuscript, seems to have remembered the dance 
+of Faust and the young witch, in writing the sixth canto of 
+“* Don Juan.” 
+
+In the two verses given to Mephistopheles and the old 
+witch, the omitted words are thus omitted in the original. 
+The manuscript in the Royal Library at Berlin contains the 
+completed lines as written by Goethe. They are neither 
+better nor worse than many passages in Shakespeare, having 
+the coarseness, without the wit, of Rabelais; hence the 
+reader gains rather than loses by the omission. 
+
+
+143. PROKTOPHANTASMIST. 
+
+
+In Goethe’s original manuscript and in the first edition of 
+Fuust this name is given as “ Broktophantasmist,” as in 
+Shelley’s English and Stapfer’s French version. The mis- 
+take was therefore Goethe’s and not theirs, as later trans- 
+lators have charged. The word (from mrpwxrés, the buttocks) 
+points so directly to Friedrich Nicolai, the Berlin author 
+and publisher, that there is no difficulty in interpreting 
+Goethe’s satire. 
+
+
+NOTES. 313 
+
+
+Nicolai, the son of a bookseller, was born in Berlin in 
+1733, and succeeded to his father’s business at the age of 
+twenty-five, after having already commenced his career as 
+an author. He was the literary associate of Lessing and 
+Moses Mendelssohn, in the ‘“ Letters concerning Recent 
+German Literature” and the “ Universal German Library,” 
+published between 1759 and 1792. He shared the hostility 
+of the former to the romantic school, especially in its “‘ Storm 
+and Stress” period, and soon after the appearance of 
+Goethe’s “‘ Sorrows of Werther ” published a malicious and 
+rather stupid parody entitled ‘The Joys of Werther.” After 
+the death of his two great friends he seems to have con- 
+sidered himself their literary successor, and his pretensions 
+to be recognized as a critical authority were so arrogantly 
+and impudently displayed, that he soon brought upon him- 
+self the enmity, not of Goethe alone, but also of Herder, 
+Schiller, Kant, Fichte, and many other distinguished men. 
+His “ Account of a Journey through Germany and Switzer- 
+land,” (1781) in twelve volumes, gives, perhaps, the com- 
+pletest expression of his cold, restricted, yet dictatorial 
+nature. He has been called the Lrs-Philister — the arch- 
+representative of the commonplace, conventional element in 
+German literature. . 
+
+Carlyle says : ‘To the very last Nicolai could never per- 
+suade himself that there was anything in heaven or earth 
+that was not dreamt of in 4:5 philosophy. He was animated 
+with a fierce zeal against Jesuits; in this, most people 
+thought him partly right ; but when he wrote against Kant’s 
+philosophy without comprehending it, and judged of poetry 
+as he judged of Brunswick mexmme,* by its utility, many 
+people thought him wrong.” 
+
+Goethe, perhaps, might have forgiven the parody of “ Wer- 
+ther,” but Nicolai’s declaration that he would “ soon finish 
+Goethe,” at a time when he still retained considerable influ- 
+ence with the public, ‘while Géschen’s edition of Goethe's 
+works was neglected or assailed, was a more serious offence. 
+
+
+* A thick, sweet beer, peculiar to Brunswick. 
+
+
+VOL. 1. 14 
+
+
+314 FAUST. 
+
+
+Goethe was provoked into using the only weapon which he 
+considered fitting — ridicule, and he was assisted by Nicolai’s 
+own indiscretion. The latter, whose literary materialism was 
+his prominent quality,— who fought the spiritual element 
+as Luther fought the Devil, — was visited, in 1791, with an 
+avenging malady. He was troubled by apparitions of per- 
+sons living and dead, who filled his room, and for several - 
+weeks continued to haunt and torment him although he 
+knew them to be phantasms. He was finally relieved by the 
+application of leeches about the end of the spine, whence 
+Goethe’s term Proktophantasmist, which may be delicately 
+translated as ‘‘ Rump-visionary.” Nicolai published a very 
+minute account of his affliction and the manner of cure, and 
+thus furnished his antagonists with an effective source of rid- 
+icule. He died in 1811, after having seen himself pilloried 
+in the Walpurgis-Night. His services, nevertheless, must 
+not be wholly measured by the place which he here occupies, 
+He was evidently honest, although vain and narrow-minded. 
+For several years, his authority in Berlin was fully equal to 
+that of Gottsched in Leipzig, a generation before; and his 
+friendship with Lessing and Mendelssohn is an evidence 
+both of his culture and character. But when, not recogniz- 
+_ing the later giants, he attempted to stand in their way, he 
+was crushed. 
+
+
+144. Weare so wise, and yet is Tegel haunted. 
+
+
+Nicolai’s arrogant manner is parodied in this passage. 
+Since 4e does not believe in the spirits, it is incredible that 
+they will not vanish. His annoyance at their appearance in 
+Tegel —a small castle, a few miles northwest of Berlin, origi- 
+nally built as a hunting-lodge by the Elector of Brandenburg, 
+and more recently known as the home and burial-place of 
+Wilhelm and Alexander von Humboldt — is explained by 
+the circumstance that in 1797 apparitions were declared to 
+have visited the castle. So much excitement was created by 
+the report, that an official visit to Tegel was made by the 
+authorities, and attempts were instituted, but without suc- 
+cess, to discover the cause of the ghostly sights and sounds. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 315 
+
+
+In Varnhagen von Ense’s 7azebuch, published since his 
+death, I find the following curious statement : — 
+
+“ Tegel is haunted, as is known: this winter the Minister 
+(Wilhelm) von Humboldt is said to have seen his double 
+there. The servant entered, terrified to find him sitting 
+at his writing-desk, and confessed, in his confusion, that he 
+had just left him lying in bed. The Minister followed the 
+servant into his bedchamber, also saw himself lying in bed, 
+observed the thing for a while, did not approach nearer, 
+however, but went quietly away again. After half an hour 
+the apparition had disappeared.” 
+
+
+145. Yet something from a tour I always save. 
+
+
+This is an allusion to Nicolai’s interminable narrative of 
+his journey through Germany and Switzerland. The parody 
+of his manner is continued in his repetition of the same idea, 
+as in one of the Xensen which Goethe and Schiller wrote in 
+partnership in 1796: — 
+
+“ What he thinks of his age he says ; he gives his opinion, 
+Says it again aloud, says he has said it, and goes.” 
+
+The allusion of Mephistopheles to the leeches needs no 
+
+further explanation. 
+
+
+146. A red mouse from her mouth. 
+
+
+Goethe here refers to an old superstition concerning one 
+of the many forms of diabolical possession. Perhaps he also 
+remembered the following story, quoted by Hayward from 
+the Deutsche Sagen : — 
+
+“ The following incident occurred at a nobleman’s seat, in 
+Thiiringia, about the beginning of the seventeenth century. 
+The servants were paring fruit in the room, when a girl, be- 
+coming sleepy, left the others and laid herself down on a 
+bench, at a little distance from the others. After she had 
+Jain still a short time a little red mouse crept out of her 
+mouth, which was open. Most of the people saw it and 
+showed it to one another. The mouse ran hastily to the 
+open window, crept through, and remained a short space 
+
+
+316 FAUST. 
+
+
+without. A forward waiting-maid, whose curiosity was ex: 
+cited by what she saw, in spite of the remonstrances of the 
+rest went up to the inanimate maiden, shook her, moved her 
+to another place a little further off, and then left her. 
+Shortly afterwards the mouse returned, ran to the former 
+familiar spot where it had crept out of the maiden’s mouth, 
+ran up and down as if it could not find its way, and was at a 
+loss what to do, and then disappeared. The maiden, how- 
+ever, was dead and remained dead. The forward waiting- 
+maid repented of what she had done, but in vain. In the 
+same establishment a lad had before then been often tor- 
+mented by the sorceress, and could have no Paes ; this 
+ceased on the maiden’s death.” 
+
+Goethe probably intended the mouse as a symbol of the 
+bestial element in the Witches’ Sabbath, by which Faust is 
+disgusted and repelled. The apparition of Margaret, whicb 
+has also a prophetic character, is the external eidolon of his 
+own love and longing. 
+
+
+147. The Prater shows no livelier stir. 
+
+
+The Prater (from the Latin frvatum, a meadow) is the fa- 
+mous public park of Vienna, which the Emperor Joseph IL 
+dedicated ‘‘To the Human Race.” It is an island enclosed 
+by arms of the Danube, covered with a fine forest which is 
+intersected in all directions by magnificent drives and walks. 
+On holidays, Sunday afternoons, and pleasant summer éven- 
+ings half the population of Vienna may be found in the Pra- 
+ter, which is one of the liveliest and cheerfullest places of 
+recreation in Europe. 
+
+
+148. SERVIBILIS. 
+
+This term corresponds to the “supernumerary” of our 
+theatres. In 1799, Goethe wrote an article upon “ Dilettan- 
+tism ” in literature, of which the words spoken by the Ser- 
+vibilis are an echo. Diintzer says, referring to this passage : 
+“The Dilettanti. to whom we are now introduced, love an 
+immensity of material, for which reason they continually pro- 
+duce new pieces, and by scores together.” 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 317 
+
+
+149. OBERON AND TITANIA’S GOLDEN WEDDING. 
+
+
+This /sfermezzo had no place in the original plan of Fases#, 
+and Schiller is chiefly responsible for its insertion. In the 
+summer of 1796, Goethe, who had been reading the Xenia of 
+Martial, wrote a few imitations in German directed against 
+his literary antagonists. Schiller caught the idea at once ; 
+they met and worked together, sometimes independently, 
+while sometimes one furnished the conception and another 
+the words. The distiches grew so fast that they proposed 
+writing a thousand ; but the number published in the Musen- 
+almanach of the following winter was four hundred and thir- 
+teen. (They are all given in the Vachtrage su Goethe's Wer- 
+ken, by Eduard Boas: Berlin, 1859.) The effect was like 
+disturbing a hornet’s nest: the air of Germany was filled 
+with sounds of pain, rage, and malicious Jaughter. Mr. 
+Lewes says: ‘“‘ The sensation produced by Pope’s ‘ Dunciad’ 
+and Byron’s ‘English Bards and Scotch Reviewers,’ was 
+mild compared with the sensation produced by the Xenien, 
+although the wit and sarcasm of the latter is like milk and 
+water compared with the vitriol of the ‘Dunciad’ and the 
+
+English Bards.’”” Mr. Lewes, however, hardly appreciates 
+the peculiar sting of the Xenien, which do not satirize the 
+authors as individuals, so much as their intellectual peculi- 
+arities, 
+
+During the following summer, Goethe wrote “ Oberon and 
+Titania’s Golden Wedding ”’ — not in its present form — and 
+sent it to Schiller for the Musenalmanach of 1798, as a con- 
+tinuation of the aggressive movement. Schiller, writing to 
+him on the 2d of October, says: ‘ You will not find ‘ Obe- 
+ron’s Golden Wedding’ in the collection ; I have omitted it, 
+for two reasons. First, J thought it might be well to abso- 
+lutely leave out of this number of the A/manach all stings, 
+and assume a harmless air; and then I was not willing that 
+the Golden Wedding, for the amplification of which there is 
+so much material, should be limited to so few verses. It re- 
+mains to us for next year, as a treasure which may be greatly 
+increased.” 
+
+
+318 FAUST. 
+
+
+There is no reply to this in Goethe’s letters until] the 20th 
+of December, when he writes to Schiller from Weimar, after 
+his return from Switzerland : “‘ You have most considerately 
+omitted Oberon’s Golden Wedding. In the mean time it 
+has increased to double the number of verses; and I am in- 
+clined to think that the best place for it would be in Fuss.” 
+There were probably many changes, made by addition or 
+omission, before it appeared as an /#fermezso in the edition 
+of 1808. The “‘ Walpurgis-Night’s Dream” is a suggestion 
+from Shakespeare. Most of the allusions may still be de- 
+tected; yet something has undoubtedly been lost, through 
+the transitory character of the reputations thus satirized. 
+
+Considered in its relation to Faust, the piece can only be 
+regarded as an excrescence. At the time it was added, how- 
+ever, Goethe designed following it with another scene of the 
+Walpurgis-Night, the outline of which is given in Note 170. 
+Eckermann relates that, in like manner, Goethe inserted a 
+number of aphoristic passages and one or two poems, for 
+which there was no special place elsewhere, in the conclud- 
+ing part of Wilhelm Meister, where their appearance was a 
+puzzle to both critics and readers. 
+
+
+150. Sons of Mieding, rest to-day. 
+
+
+Mieding was a theatre-decorator at Weimar, and a great 
+favorite of Goethe and the Ducal Court. After his death, in 
+1782, Goethe celebrated him in the poem, ‘“ Mieding’s 
+Death.” 
+
+
+151. Puck, 
+
+
+Some commentators suppose that the Herald’s announce- 
+ment of the Golden Wedding refers to the final reconcilia- 
+tion of the conflicting elements in German literature. In 
+that case, Oberon and Titania must be accepted as repre- 
+senting the Classic and Romantic Schools, or perhaps Rea- 
+son and Imagination; their quarrel, in the ‘“‘ Midsummer- 
+Night’s Dream,” may have suggested to Goethe their use as 
+“ properties” for the representation of his satirical fancies. 
+
+Puck appears to stand for the whimsical, perverse element 
+
+
+NOTES. 319 
+
+
+which frequently appears to control the tastes of the multi- 
+tude, rather than for an individual. The name (from the 
+same root as the Swedish forka, a boy) and the tricksy 
+nature of the imp in Shakespeare, harmonize with this in- 
+terpretation. 
+
+
+152. ARIEL. 
+
+
+Ariel is called from the “Tempest” to join his fellow- 
+elves. Here he evidently represents Poetry, — the pure ele- 
+ment, above and untouched by the fashions of the day. 
+
+
+153- ORCHESTRA. 
+
+
+Perhaps Goethe had in his memory the Frogs of Aristoph- 
+anes. The Orchestra must eithez be the crowd of literary 
+aspirants, who, like insects, keep up a continual piping and 
+humming, which annoys the ear; or it represents the chorus 
+of followers surrounding the various literary celebrities of 
+the time, and repeating their several views with a shrill, 
+persistent iteration. 
+
+
+154. SOLo. 
+
+Some pompous bagpipe-droner is here indicated, but no- 
+body seems to know whom. Goethe invented the word 
+Schnecke-schnicke-schnack to describe the long-drawn, nasal 
+snarl of the instrument. 
+
+
+155. SPIRIT, JUST GROWING INTO FORM. 
+
+The name might be translated Zmbryo-Spirit. ‘ Goethe 
+undoubtedly herewith designates those botching poetasters, 
+who, without the slightest idea that every living poem must 
+flow spontaneously from within as an organic whole, miser- 
+ably tack and stitch rhymes together, and thus produce mal- 
+formations which they attempt to pass off as creations of 
+beauty.” — Dintser. 
+
+The following distich from the Yensen has a certain resenr 
+blance to the above : — 
+
+
+“ Everything in this poem is perfect, thought and expression, 
+Rhythm : but one thing it lacks: ’t is not a poesn at all.” 
+
+
+
+
+
+320 FAUST. 
+
+
+156. A LitTLe CovupLe. 
+
+
+Hartung thinks the Counts Stolberg are the couple; but 
+this is improbable, since they are afterwards introduced as 
+the Weathercock. Diintzer asserts that the verse represents 
+the union of bad music and commonplace poetry. 
+
+
+157. INQUISITIVE TRAVELLER. 
+
+
+This is Nicolai, in another mask. The meaning of his 
+reference to Oberon is not very clear, unless the latter rep- 
+resents the classic school. When he speaks the second time 
+in this /#fermezso the Inquisitive Traveller describes him- 
+self much more distinctly. 
+
+
+158 ORTHODOX. 
+
+
+Here speaks the class of bigots who persecuted Lessing, 
+assailed Klopstock and Goethe, and declared Schiller's 
+splendid poem, ‘The Gods of Greece,” to be “a combina- 
+tion of the most outrageous idolatry and the dreariest athe- 
+ism.”’ This phrase is from Count Friedrich Stolberg, who 
+became one of the mouth-pieces of the sect. His attack is 
+thus answered in the Xenien : — 
+
+
+“« When thou the Gods of Greece blasphemed, then cast thee Apollo 
+Down from Pamassus; and now goest thou to Heaven instead.” 
+
+
+159. NORTHERN ARTIST. 
+
+
+Some suppose this to be the Danish artist Carstens, who 
+died in Rome, in 1798; others select Fernow, a writer on 
+art, who spent some years in Rome with Carstens ; others 
+again insist that it is Goethe himself. Inasmuch as the point 
+made in the verse has become very obscure, and was prob- 
+ably not originally brilliant, the reader may take his choice 
+of these conjectures. 
+
+
+160. WEATHERCOCK. 
+Undoubtedly the Counts Stolberg. Goethe made a tour 
+through Switzerland with them, in 1775, when they were 
+ardent neophytes of ‘“‘Storm and Stress,” defying conven- 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 321 
+
+
+tionalities, and adoring “Nature” to such an extent that 
+they attempted to bathe in public in the villages. Twenty 
+years later they were narrowly orthodox, reactionary, and 
+absurdly prudish,—a transformation by no means uncom- 
+mon with semi-talents, and which may be studied in the 
+United States as well as in Germany. Turned on one side, 
+the Weathercock is enchanted with the nude witches, and 
+looks upon them as lovely brides; on the other side, it ex- 
+pects the earth to open and swallow them all. 
+
+The “ Purist ” of the fourth preceding verse is said to be 
+the philologist Campe, who is called in the Xenien a “‘ fear- 
+ful washerwoman,” cleansing the German language with lye 
+and sand. 
+
+161. XENIES. 
+
+
+The word signifies gifts, presented to a visitor. After 
+their publication in the Musenalmanach, the storm which 
+arose against them became so furious that they were de- 
+nounced in some quarters as having been directly inspired 
+by the Devil. Hence the allusion to “ Papa Satan.” 
+
+
+162. HENNINGS. 
+
+
+The Danish Chamberlain Friedrich von Hennings, in his 
+literary journal, the “Genius of the Age,” attacked Goethe 
+and Schiller in these words: “ They are faithless to their 
+high calling ; they have disgraced the Muse by their viru- 
+lence, their coarseness, their dulness, their personal rancor, 
+their poverty of ideas and their malignant delight in injury.” 
+Probably on account of this abuse he is introduced by name, 
+first ; then in the following verse as “ Leader of the Muses ” 
+(from the Afusaget, another journal which he conducted); 
+‘and a third time as the “‘ Crdevant Genius of the Age,” — 
+his journal having died a natural death in 1803. 
+
+The first verse parodies his abuse of Goethe and Schiller ; 
+the second hints that he would be more at home among 
+Blocksberg witches than as a leader of the Muses; and the 
+third satirizes his practice of giving a place on the German 
+Parnassus to such authors as flattered him by an obsequious 
+respect for his critical views. 
+
+14% U 
+
+
+
+
+
+$22 FAUST. 
+
+
+163. CRANE. 
+
+
+“Lavater was a thoroughly good man, but he was sub- 
+jected to powerful illusions, and the severe and total truth 
+was not his concern : he deceived himself and others... . . 
+His gait was‘like that of a crane, for which reason he appears 
+as the Crane on the Blocksberg.” — Goethe to Eckermann, 
+1829. 
+
+164. WORLDLING. 
+
+Weltkind, literally ‘ world-child,” a term which Goethe 
+applies to himself in his epigrammatic poem, ‘Dinner at 
+Coblenz,” where he sat between Lavater and Basedow :— 
+
+** Prophete rechts, Prophete links 
+Das Weltkind in der Mitten.” 
+(Prophets right, and Prophets left, 
+The World-child in the middle.} 
+
+He here speaks in his own person, satirizing Lavater and 
+his followers. 
+
+The Dancers, who follow, are the philosophers, the sound 
+of whose approaching drums turns out to be only the bitterns 
+booming their single monotonous note among the reeds. 
+
+
+165. GooD FELLow. 
+
+
+Hayward and most other English translators convert this 
+name into “ Fiddler,”’ either supposing that where there is 
+dancing there must be fiddling, or mistaking Fideler for 
+Fiedler. This verse and the foregoing (the “ Dancing Mas- 
+ter”) were first inserted in the last complete edition of 
+Goethe’s works, which appeared just before his death. The 
+Good Fellow is apparently introduced solely for the purpose 
+of commenting on the hate and mutual pugnacity of the phil- 
+osophic sects. 
+
+The Dogmatist, who, if he is a particular individual, can- 
+not easily be identified, suggests a passage in one of Goethe’s 
+detters to Schiller: “ The Copenhagen clique and all the 
+refined dwellers along the Baltic shore will derive from the 
+Xenten a new argument for the actual and incontrovertible 
+existence of the Devil; and we have therefore, after all, 
+done them an important service.” 
+
+
+NOTES. 323 
+
+
+166. IDEALIST. 
+
+
+It is generally admitted that this is Fichte, who, to borrow 
+the words of a German commentator, “comprehended the 
+Not-Me itself as a product of the self-determined Me, and 
+not as something existing externally to the Me.” When 
+Goethe heard that a company of riotous students had col- 
+lected before Fichte’s house and smashed his windows in 
+with stones, he remarked that Fichte might now convince 
+himself, in the most disagreeable way, that it was possible 
+“for a Not-Me to exist, externally to the Me.” 
+
+
+167. SCEPTIC. 
+
+This verse, like the preceding, represents a class. The 
+Sceptic compares the Supernaturalists to treasure-seekers, 
+who follow the appearance of flame and believe that they 
+will soon grasp the reality of gold. Since Doubt (Zwez/e/) 
+is the only rhyme — and, moreover, an imperfect one — for 
+Devil ( 7ex/e/), in German, the Sceptic finds himself at home 
+on the Blocksberg. 
+
+
+168 THE ADROIT. 
+
+
+Here the verses take a political turn, and the reader must 
+bear in mind the general break-up of the old order of things 
+in Europe, at the beginning of this century. The Adroit are 
+those who shift themselves according to political changes, 
+and walk on their heads or on their feet, as circumstances 
+may exact. 
+
+The following verse represents the opposite class, who 
+managed to sponge their way very well under the former 
+Régime, but cannot adapt themselves to the new order. 
+They are the parasites of a system, and with any change 
+their occupation is gone. 
+
+
+169. WILL-0O’-THE-WISPS 
+
+
+This and the next verse again indicate two exactly oppo- 
+site classes. The former are the political farwenus who are 
+thrown to the surface by a revolution, and, in spite of their 
+
+
+324 FAUST. 
+
+
+obscure origin, rank at once with the highest; while the 
+Shooting Star represents the titles and celebrities cast down 
+from their high places by the same political movement, an& 
+looking for any form of help which may again set them upon 
+their feet. 
+
+In the second following verse, — the “‘ Heavy Ones,” — 
+some commentators see the ignorant, brutal, revolutionary 
+masses ; others the writers of the Romantic school and their 
+exaggerated manner. In Goethe’s dithyrambic, “German 
+Parnassus,” he thus describes the crush and onset of the 
+masses of rude literary aspirants :— 
+
+
+“* Ah, the bushes down are trodden ! 
+Ah, the blossoms crushed and sodden 
+*Neath the footsteps of the brood : 
+Who shall brave their angry mood? ” 
+
+
+The latter interpretation is the more probable, since Ariel, 
+who is Poetry, addresses them in words appropriate to liter- 
+ary, not political masses. 
+
+When Puck speaks of himself as “ the stout one,” Goethe 
+seems to have remembered the words of the Fairy in the 
+“‘ Midsummer-Night’s Dream,”’ in taking leave of Puck : — 
+
+
+“ Farewell, thou lob of spirits! I "ll be gone.” 
+
+
+170. And all is dissipated. 
+
+The transition from this /stermesso to the succeeding 
+scene of Faust is too violent, and we cannot help wishing 
+that the course of the drama had not been thus interrupted. 
+Goethe, however, not only projected but partly wrote an ad- 
+ditional scene, devoted exclusively to the pure diabolism of 
+the medizval traditions. While we must admit that a correct 
+instinct led him to withhold it, we still must feel that an inter- 
+mediate scene is necessary. The gap which we recognize 
+was felt by the author, whose work was produced at long in- 
+tervals of time, and in fragments the character of which was 
+determined by his moods of mind. But he always preferred 
+an abrupt chasm to an unsatisfactory bridge. 
+
+The projected scene is generally styled “The Brocker 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 325 
+
+
+Scene” by the German commentators, although Hartung 
+takes the liberty of calling it “‘ The Court of Satan.” I trans- 
+late it (with the exception of one short passage) precisely as 
+it is given in the Paralipomena, with its rapid short-hand out- 
+lines, its incomplete dialogues and omitted lines, and leave 
+all comment to the reader : — 
+
+
+THE HARTZ MOUNTAINS. 
+
+
+A Hicuer RecIion. 
+
+
+After the Intermezzo: Solitude, Desert, blaxts of trumpets. Light- 
+ning, thunder from above. Columns of fire, stifling smoke. Rock, pro- 
+jecting therefrom: ’t is Satan. Much people around: delay: means 
+of pressing through: injury: cries. Chant: they stand in the inner 
+circle: the heat almost insupportable. Who stands next in the circle. 
+Satan’s address: presentations: investitures. Sinking of the appari- 
+tion. Volcano. Disorderly dissolution, breaking and storming away. 
+
+
+Summit or THe Brocxen. 
+
+
+SaTAN on his Throne. A Crowd of People around. Faust and 
+MEPHISTOPHELES tn the nearest circle. 
+
+
+SATAN (speaking from the throne). 
+The goats to the left hand, 
+The bucks to the right ! 
+
+The goats, they have scented 
+The bucks with delight : 
+And though in their nostrils 
+The sense were increased, 
+The goats would endure it, 
+Nor shrink in the least. 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+
+
+Fall down on your faces, 
+Your Master adore | 
+
+He teaches the people, 
+With pleasure, his lore. 
+To his oracles hearken « 
+He ’)l show you the clews 
+To the endless existence 
+That Nature renews | 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+SATAN (turning to the right). 
+Two things are before you, 
+Both splendid and grand : 
+The glittering gold 
+The one is purveyor, 
+
+The other devours ; 
+Then blest, who possesses 
+Together their powers | 
+
+
+A VOICE. 
+
+
+What says then the Master? 
+Remote from his station, 
+
+I catch not so clearly 
+
+The precious oration. 
+
+I cannot detect them, 
+
+The beautiful clews, 
+
+Nor see the existence 
+
+That Nature renews ! 
+
+
+SATAN (turning to the left). 
+Two things are before you 
+Of brilliancy clear : 
+
+The glittering gold 
+Then learn, all ye women, 
+Through gold to enjoy 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+
+
+Fall down on your faces, 
+Adoringly stirred ! 
+
+O blest, who is nearest 
+And heareth the word ! 
+
+
+A VOICE. 
+
+
+I stand at a distance 
+
+And listen so steady, 
+
+Yet many a word has 
+Escaped me already. 
+Who'll clearly repeat them? 
+Who ’ll show me the clews 
+To the endless existence 
+That Nature renews? 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 327 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (to a young witch). 
+Why weep’st thou, lovely little dear? 
+*T is not the place to shed a tear. 
+Hast thou been in the crowd too rudely pushed and penned? 
+
+
+MAIDEN. 
+
+
+Ah, no! The Master speaks so singular 
+
+
+And all are so delighted, it appears ; 
+Perhaps the great ones, only, comprehend? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+But, sweetheart, come now, dry thy tears! 
+So that the Devil’s meaning reach thine ears, 
+
+
+SATAN. 
+Ye young ones, before us 
+To stand ye are bidden ; 
+I see that on broomsticks 
+Ve hither have ridden : 
+
+
+SEPARATE AUDIENCES. 
+
+
+x. 
+Let me attain to that — 
+The power whereto thou knowest me aspirant, 
+Then gratefully, though born a Democrat, 
+Ill kiss thy hoofs no less, O Tyrant! 
+
+
+MASTER OF CEREMONIES. 
+
+
+The hoofs ! but once may that befall : 
+Thou must make up thy mind to go still further. 
+
+
+x. 
+What, then, requires the ritual? 
+
+
+SATAN. 
+Vassal, thou tested art ! 
+Now o’er a million souls thy freehold reaches ; 
+He who can praise like thee the Devil’s —— —a_<- 
+Shall never lack in sycophantic speeches. 
+
+
+328 FAUST. 
+
+
+ANOTHER PART OF THE BROCKEN. 
+
+
+Lowgr Racion. 
+
+
+Vision of Judgment. Crowd. They climb a tree. Remarks of the 
+people. On buming soil. The Idol naked. The hands bound on the 
+back. 
+
+
+CHANT. 
+
+
+Where hot and fresh fiows human blood, 
+For magic spells the reek is good. 
+
+The brotherhood, both black and gray, 
+Wins power for works that shun the day. 
+What hints of blood, we most require ; 
+What spills it, answers our desire. 
+Round fire and blood a measure tread ! 
+For now in fire shall blood be shed. 
+
+
+The wench she points, we know the sign ; 
+The toper drinks, ’tis blood, not wine. 
+The look, the drink, end what 's begun ; 
+The dagger’s bare, the deed is done. 
+Flows ne'er alone a fount of blood, 
+
+But other streamlets join the flood : 
+From place to place they gush and glide, 
+And gather more to swell the tide. 
+
+
+The head falls off: the blood leaps and extinguishes the fire. Night. 
+Tumult. Chattering of Devils’ changelings. Thereby Faust Jearns. 
+
+
+
+
+
+Some of the German commentators suppose that the 
+“black and gray brotherhood” of this concluding chant are 
+the Franciscan and Dominican monastic orders, and there- 
+fore that the fragment refers directly to the Inquisition. 
+Diintzer asserts that the heading “Another Part of the 
+Brocken”’ indicates that this is a separate outline for the 
+whole scene, intended as a substitute for the foregoing frag- 
+ments, not as a continuation of them. 
+
+
+171. DREARY Day. 
+
+
+Riemer states that Goethe dictated the whole of this scene 
+to him, as it stands, without a pause This must have oc- 
+curred between 1803, when he first entered Goethe's service, 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 329 
+
+
+and 1808, when the First Part was published. It does not 
+therefore follow that the scene was then composed, as most 
+of the critics seem to take for granted. The style of the 
+original at once suggests the Werther period, and I cannot 
+resist the impression that it was then first written, nearly in 
+its present form. There are evidences in Goethe’s corre- 
+spondence that more than one scene of Faust existed in prose, 
+many years before the time of which Riemer speaks ; and it 
+is quite possible that other plans for bridging over the gap 
+between the Walpurgis-Night and the Prison Scene have 
+been lost. It would be consistent with Goethe’s habits as 
+an author, to return to his first conception after the failure of 
+later ones, and, inasmuch as the metrical form of his poetry 
+depended on temporary moods, or varieties of inspiration, 
+—that is, it was never mechanically planned in advance, 
+— it is not stretching conjecture too far to assume that, be- 
+coming weary of so many fruitless attempts, he finally cic- 
+tated the scene from memory, as originally written. 
+
+Another proof that this or a very similar scene was in 
+existence before 1790, is the surprise expressed by Wieland 
+to Bottiger that the Faust “ Fragment” of that year did not 
+contain the passage wherein Faust becomes so furious that 
+even Mephistopheles is almost terrified at his violence. At 
+this time, ten years had elapsed since Goethe read the man- 
+uscript scenes before the Court circle of Weimar. 
+
+M. Stapfer insists that this scene was given in prose “in 
+order that it might not be said that any possible form of 
+expression was wanting to Faust.” The whole question of 
+employing metre or prose for dramatic subjects had been 
+thoroughly discussed by Schiller and Goethe, and the em- 
+phatic expression of the latter, “‘ Everything poetical in char- 
+acter must be rhythmically treated,” is sufficient evidence 
+that he was here guided by necessity rather than choice. 
+
+The remaining passages of the Paralip~omena belonging to 
+the First Part may now be appropriately given. 
+
+It would appear from the following verse that Gcethe at 
+one time intended taking Faust to Rome, as in the le- 
+gend : — 
+
+
+330 FAUST. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+From soot and witch away to speed 
+The pennon southward now must lead ; 
+Yet there, instead, the Fates compel 
+With priests and scorpions to dwell. 
+The next quatrain was evidently intended for the mouth 
+of Faust, on his southward journey : — 
+
+
+Warmer breezes, hither blow, 
+On our foreheads playing ! 
+Ye were wont to cheer us so 
+In our youthful straying. 
+
+
+Then follows the commencement of a scene, which may 
+have been designed as a substitute for that which suc- 
+ceeds : — 
+
+Hicuway. 
+
+
+al cross by the roadside; to the right an old castle on the hill; tn the 
+distance a feasant’s hut. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+What is ’t, Mephisto? Why such hurry? 
+Why at the cross cast down thine eyes ? 
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+I’m well aware it is a prejudice ; 
+But, never mind, I find the thing a worry. 
+The last fragment contains nothing from which its desti- 
+nation may be guessed : — 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Let none in earmest ask, or cavil; 
+I’m of my race ashamed, of late : 
+They fancy, when they say The Devil, 
+They ’ve uttered something great. 
+
+
+172. OPEN FIELD. 
+This brief, uncanny scene seems to have been inserted as 
+a transition between the different keys of those which pre- 
+cede and follow. The ‘‘Ravenstone” is the old German 
+word for a place of execution. Byron probably remembered 
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 33x 
+
+
+the expression, from Shelley’s oral translation, when he 
+wrote, in a rejected chorus of the “Deformed Trans- 
+
+
+formed” : — 
+“ The raven sits 
+
+
+On the raven-stone.” 
+
+
+173. My mother, the harlot. 
+
+
+The last line of Faust’s soliloquy at the door: “ Fort! 
+Dein Zagen sigert den Tod heran!” is one of those para- 
+doxical sentences, the meaning of which it is more easy to 
+feel than to reproduce. Zégern. like its English equivalent, 
+is an intransitive verb; but Shakespeare’s example may 
+justify me in using the verb fo Jinger, with an object, as 
+Goethe uses sdgern. The former expression is the literal 
+reproduction of the latter. 
+
+The song which Margaret sings is a variation of one in 
+the Low German dialect, in a story called the Mackandel- 
+Boom (The Juniper-Tree: the English translator, mistaking 
+Machandel for Mandel, renders it “almond tree”), included 
+by the brothers Grimm in their well-known collection of 
+popular fairy lore. I borrow Hayward’s abbreviation of the 
+story :— 
+
+“‘The wife of a rich man, whilst standing under a juniper 
+tree, wishes for a little child as white as snow and as red as 
+blood; and on another occasion expresses a wish to be 
+buried under the juniper when dead. Soon after, a little 
+boy, as white as snow and as red as blood, is born; the 
+mother dies of joy at beholding it, and is buried according 
+to her wish. The husband marries again, and has a daugh- 
+ter. The second wife, becoming jealous of the boy, murders 
+him, and serves him up at table for the unconscious father 
+to eat. The father finishes the whole dish, and throws the 
+bones under the table The little girl, who is made the in- 
+nocent assistant in her mother’s villany, picks them up, ties 
+them in a silk handkerchief, and buries them under the juni- 
+per tree. The tree begins to move its branches mysteri- 
+ously, and then a kind of cloud rises from it, a fire appears 
+in the cloud, and out of the fire comes a beautiful bird, 
+which flies about singing the following song : — 
+
+
+332 FAUST. 
+
+
+* Min Moder de mi slacht’t, 
+Min Vader de mi att, 
+Min Swester de Marleenken 
+Sécht alle mine Beeniken, 
+Un bindt sie in een syden Dook, 
+Legts unner den Machandelboom ; 
+Kywitt! Kywitt! ach watt en schén Vagel bin ich !’” 
+
+
+174. My wedding-day tt was to be! 
+
+One of the commentators asserts that this line must be 
+literally accepted, —that the day dawning was actually that 
+fixed upon by Faust for his marriage with Margaret! 
+
+The details of the execution, which Margaret describes, 
+belong to the past centuries. The tolling of the bell; the 
+breaking of a white wand by the judge after the reading of 
+the sentence of death, as a symbol that the culprit’s life is 
+thus broken; the binding to the seat, and the flash of the 
+executioner’s sword, are all features which accompanied the 
+act. 
+
+
+175. Ye angels, holy cohorts, guard me! 
+
+Wilhelm Meister gives evidence that Goethe made a care- 
+ful study of ‘“ Hamlet,” and the following lines, on the 
+appearance of the Ghost in the Queen’s chamber (Act IIL 
+Scene 4), may have lingered in his memory : — 
+
+
+“* Save me, and hover o’er me with your wings, 
+Ye heavenly guards !”’ 
+
+
+176. She ts judged! 
+
+Goethe here employs, in a different sense, a phrase from 
+the puppet-play. When the end of Faust’s twenty-four 
+years of enjoyment draws nigh, a voice calls from above: 
+Prepara te ad mortem! Soon after, interrupted by Faust’s 
+prayers and words of remorse, the exclamation follows: 
+Accusatus es!—then Fudicatus es! and finally: /s eternam 
+damnatus es !— whereupon Faust disappears from the eyes 
+of the spectators. 
+
+Some, forgetting that the terms of the compact have not 
+yet been fulfilled, interpret the words of Mephistopheles 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES. 333 
+
+
+“Hither to me!” as implying that he thenceforth takes full 
+possession of Faust. The voice from above announces that 
+Margaret is saved, and the scene instantly closes, as if the 
+mist and vapor out of which the forms arose had again rolled 
+over them. Goethe so concealed his plan for the Second 
+Part of Faust that we must first become familiar with it 
+before we can return and trace in the First Part the threads 
+which connect the two. 
+
+The “little world” of individual passion, emotion, and 
+aspiration here comes suddenly to an end; but beyond it 
+still lies the “great world,” where the interests and passions 
+which shape Society, Government, and the development of 
+the human race are set in motion to solve the problem of 
+Faust’s destiny 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+APPENDIX. 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+APPENDIX I. 
+
+
+THE FAUST-LEGEND. 
+
+
+O many references have been made, in the foregoing 
+Notes, to the various forms of the old Faust-legend, that 
+a brief account of its origin and the changes in its character 
+introduced by successive narrators is all that need now be 
+added. The reader who is specially interested in the subject 
+will find no difficulty in prosecuting his researches further : # 
+no legend of the Middle Ages has been so assiduously un- 
+earthed, dissected and expounded. 
+
+The slow revival of science in Germany, France and Italy, 
+furnished the ignorant multitude with many new names which 
+passed with them for those of sorcerers, and gradually dis- 
+placed the traditions of Virgilius, Merlin, and others who had 
+figured in their lore for many centuries. Raymond Lully, 
+Roger Bacon, Paracelsus, Cornelius Agrippa, the Abbot 
+Tritheim (Trithemius), and many other sincere though con- 
+fused workers, were believed by the people to be in league 
+with evil spirits, and their names became nuclei, around 
+which gathered all manner of floating traditions. The fif- 
+teenth and sixteenth centuries, from the movements in hu- 
+man thought which they brought forth, were naturally rich 
+in such stories, for even the most advanced minds still re- 
+tained a half-belief in occult spiritual forces. Melancthon, 
+himself, is our chief evidence in relation to the person and 
+character of the Faust of the legend. 
+
+
+* The collection of narratives given by Scheible in his A /oster, and the 
+accounts in Diintzer’s and Leutbecher’s commentaries on Faust, may 
+still be easily procured. 
+
+
+VOL. I I§ Vv 
+
+
+338 FAUST. 
+
+
+It is possible that there was another person of this name, 
+ind of some local reputation, in the fifteenth century. 
+George Sabellicus, a noted charlatan, of whom the Abbot 
+Tritheim writes in 1509, called himself Faustus minor. The 
+name (signifying fortunate, of good omen) was not unusual : 
+it was the baptismal name of the younger Socinus, who taught 
+his Unitarian doctrines in Poland and Transylvania, and 
+whom some have very absurdly attempted to connect with 
+the legend; for he was not born until 1539. The Johann 
+Faust of the popular stories was undoubtedly an individual 
+of that name, born towards the close of the fifteenth century, 
+in the little town of Knittlingen, near Maulbronn, in Wirtem- 
+berg. His parents were poor, but he was enabled by the 
+bequest of a rich uncle to study medicine. He attended the 
+University of Cracow (where he probably received his Doc- 
+tor’s degree), studied magic, which was there taught as an 
+accepted branch of knowledge, and appears to have after- 
+wards travelled for many years through Europe. Mantias 
+the disciple of Melancthon, quotes the latter as having said : 
+‘This fellow Faust escaped from our town of Wittenberg, 
+after our Duke John had given the order to have him im- 
+prisoned. He also escaped from Nuremberg, under the like 
+circumstances. This sorcerer Faust, an abominable beast, a 
+common sewer (cloaca) of many devils, boasted that he, by 
+his magic arts, had enabled the Imperial armies to win their 
+victories in Italy.” It was probably the famous battle of 
+Pavia (1525) of which Faust spoke, as the time of his visit to 
+Wittenberg appears to have been about the year 1530. 
+
+Another evidence of Faust is found im the /wdex Sanitatis 
+of the physician, Philip Begardi, which was published at 
+Worms in 1539 = He therein says: “ Since several years he 
+has gone through all regions, provinces and kingdoms, made 
+his name known to everybody, and is highly renowned for 
+his great skill, not alone in medicine, but also in chiro- 
+mancy, necromancy, physiognomy, visions in crystal, and the 
+like other arts. And also not only renowned, but written 
+down and known as an experienced master. Himself ad- 
+mitted, nor denied that it was so, and that his name was 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+APPENDIX. 339 
+
+
+Faustus, and called himself philosophum philosophorum. But 
+how many have complained to me that they were deceived by 
+him — verily a great number ! ” 
+
+The third witness is the theologian, Johann Gast, who in 
+his Sermones Conviviales describes a dinner given by Faust at 
+Basle, at which he was present. After mentioning the two 
+devils who attended Faust in the form of a dog and a horse, 
+he says: ‘“‘The wretch came to an end in a terrible manner ; 
+for the Devil strangled him. His dead body lay constantly 
+on its face on the bier, although it had been five times turned 
+upwards.” Gast probably makes this last statement on the 
+strength of some popular rumor. Faust seems to have grad- 
+ually passed out of notice, and we have no particulars of his 
+death which possess the least authenticity. Melancthon, in 
+his discourses as Professor at Wittenberg, Luther in his 
+“ table-talk,” and the other Protestant theologians of that 
+period, almost without exception, expressed their belief ina 
+personal, visible Devil, then specially active in their part of 
+the world. Luther even describes the annoyances to which 
+the Devil subjects him, with a candor which cannot now be 
+imitated ; and the same belief naturally took grosser and more 
+positive forms among the common people. The wandering 
+life of Johann Faust, as physician and necromancer, must have 
+made his name well known throughout Germany; his visit 
+to Wittenberg and the reference to him in the three works 
+already quoted, would distinguish him above others of his 
+class, and every floating rumor of diabolical compact, power, 
+and final punishment would thenceforth gather around his 
+name as iron filings around a magnet. 
+
+The various books of magic entitled Fazust's Hollenswang 
+(Infernal Influences) were all published with false early 
+dates, after Faust’s name became generally known, and are 
+therefore of no value as evidence The attempt, also, to 
+connect him with Fust, Guttenberg’s associate in printing, 
+has no foundation whatever. 
+
+The original form of the legend is the book published by 
+Spiess, in Frankfurt, in 15387. Its title runs thus: ‘‘ History 
+of Dr. Joh. Faust, the notorious sorcerer and black-artist: 
+
+
+340 FAUST. 
+
+
+How he bound himself to the Devil for a certain time: 
+What singular adventures befell him therein, what he did 
+and carried on until finally he received his well-deserved 
+pay- Mostly from his own posthumous writings; for all 
+presumptuous, rash and godless men, as a terrible example, 
+abominable instance and well-meant warning, collected and 
+put in print. James, IIII., Submit yourselves therefore to 
+God: resist the Devil, and he will flee from you.” The 
+book must have been instantly and widely popular, for a 
+second edition was published in 1588; a Low-German ver- 
+sion in Liibeck and an English ballad on the subject, the 
+same year ; an English translation in 1590, two Dutch trans- 
+lations in 1592, and one French in 1598 From the first of 
+these Marlowe obtained the material for his tragedy of ‘‘ Dr. 
+Faustus,’”’ which appears to have been first acted in London 
+in 1593, the year of his death. It was published in 1604, 
+and no doubt formed part of the repertory of the companies 
+of English strolling-players who were accustomed to visis 
+Germany. ‘ 
+
+In the Dutch translation dates are given, apparently fos 
+the purpose of making the story more credible. The year 
+1491 Is mentioned as that of Faust’s birth; his first compac 
+with the Devil, for seventeen years, was made on the 23d of 
+October, 1514; his second, for seven years, on the 3d of 
+August, 1531; and he was finally carried off by the Devil at 
+midnight, on the 23d of October, 1538. The term of twentv- 
+four years, which is not a mystical number, is thus obtained 
+by adding the two mystical terms, 17 and 7. In the English 
+translation the village of Kindling, in Silesia, is given as 
+Faust’s birthplace; another tradition, adopted in the origi- 
+na) Frankfurt work, says Roda, near Weimar. 
+
+This oldest book repeats Melancthon’s statement of 
+Faust’s studies at Cracow, and his fame as a physician and 
+sorcerer. It then describes the manner of his summoning 
+the Devil at night, in a forest near Wittenberg. Afterwards 
+the evil spirit visits him in his dwelling, and three severa) 
+“disputations ” take place, at the third of which the spirit 
+gives his name as Mephostophiles. The compact for the 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+APPENDIX. 341 
+
+
+term of twenty-four years is thereupon concluded. When 
+Faust pierces his hand with the point of a knife in order to 
+sign the compact, the blood flows into the form of the words 
+O Homo Fuge! signifying: “O man, fly from him!” Meph- 
+ostophiles first serves him in the form of a monk, supply- 
+ing him with food and wine from the cellars of the Bishop of 
+Salzburg and other prelates, and with rich garments from 
+Augsburg and Frankfurt, so that Faust and his Famulus, 
+Christopher Wagner, are enabled to live in the utmost lux- 
+ury. It was not long, however, before Faust desired to 
+marry, but this was in no wise permitted, Mephostophiles 
+saying that marriage was pleasing to God, and therefore a 
+violation of the compact. This feature of the legend grew 
+directly from the questions of the Reformation; and there 
+was a special meaning in giving the evil spirit the form of a 
+monk. Wagner, moreover, is said to have been the son of a 
+Catholic priest, picked up by Faust as a boy of fifteen, and 
+by him educated. 
+
+Then follow many discret wherein Faust questions 
+Mephostophiles in regard to the creation of the world, the 
+seasons, the planets, Hell and the infernal hierarchy, and is 
+himself taken to the latter place in a chariot drawn by drag- 
+ons. Afterwards, he wishes to visit the different parts of 
+the earth: Mephostophiles changes himself into a horse, 
+‘but with wings like a dromedary,” and flies with him 
+through the air. They travel to all parts of Europe and 
+finally come to Rome, where Faust lives three days in the 
+Vatican, invisible. As often as the Pope makes the sign of 
+the cross, he blows in his face: he also eats off the Pope’s 
+table and drinks the wine from his goblets, until His Holi- 
+ness commands all the bells of Rome to be rung, to dispel 
+the evil magic. Faust then goes to Constantinople, where 
+he appears in the Sultan’s palace in the form of Mahomet, 
+and lives in state. He next traverses Egypt, then Morocco, 
+the Orkney Islands, Scythia, Arabia, and Persia, and finally, 
+“from the highest peak of the dsland of Caucasus” has a 
+distant view of the Garden of Eden. After his return to 
+Germany he visits the Court of the Emperor Charles V. at 
+
+
+
+
+
+342 FAUST. 
+
+
+Innsbruck, and at the desire of the latter calls up before him 
+the shades of Alexander the Great and his wife. Many 
+pranks are also related, which he plays upon the knights 
+attending the Emperor. . 
+
+The remaining part of the book is principally taken up 
+with an account of the tricks and magical illusions with 
+which Faust diverted himself in Leipzig, Erfurt. Gotha, and 
+other parts of Northern Germany. He here resembles Till 
+Eulenspiegel much more than the ambitious student of Cra- 
+cow, who “took to himself the wings of an eagle, and would 
+explore all the secrets of heaven and earth.” He swallows 
+a span of horses and a load of hay; he cuts off heads and 
+replaces them ; makes flowers bloom at Christmas, draws 
+wine from a table, calls Helen of Troy from the shades at 
+the request of a company of students; and shows himself 
+everywhere as a gay, jovial companion, full of pranks, but 
+exercising his supernatural power quite as often for good as 
+for evil purposes. Finally, in the twenty-third year of his 
+compact, Mephostophiles brings the Grecian Helena to him ; 
+he becomes infatuated with her beauty, lives with her, and 
+by her has a son whom he names Justus Faustus. On the 
+night when his term of years expires, we find him in com- 
+pany with some students in a tavern of the village of Rim- 
+lich, near Wittenberg. He is overcome with melancholy, 
+and makes the students an address wherein he expresses his 
+great penitence, and his willingness that the Devil should 
+have his body, provided his soul may receive pardon. At 
+midnight a fearful storm arose: the next morning the walls 
+and floor of the room were sprinkled with the bloody frag- 
+ments of Faust, who had been so torn to pieces that no 
+member was left whole. Helena and her child had dis- 
+appeared. Wagner, by Faust’s will, became heir to his 
+property, part of which was a dwelling in the town of 
+Wittenberg. 
+
+The great popularity of the legend in this form led to the 
+preparation of Widmann’s larger and more ambitious work, 
+which was published at Hamburg, in 1599. Its title is: 
+* The Veritable History of the hideous and abominable sina 
+
+
+
+
+
+APPENDIX. 343 
+
+
+and vices, also of many wonderful and eerange adventures, 
+which D. Johannes Faustus, a notorious black-artist and 
+arch-sorcerer, by means of his black arr, committed even 
+until his terrible ending. Fitted out ana expounded with 
+necessary reminders and admirable instances, for manifold 
+instruction and warning.” The story is substantially the 
+same as in Spiess’s book, but many additional! anecdotes are 
+inserted, and all the details are amplified. Instead of three 
+“ disputations” between Faust and Mephostophiles, there 
+are fen, and each is followed — as, in fact, every chapter in 
+the work — by a long-winded theological discourse, called a 
+Reminder (Zrinnerung). These Reminders are pedantic and 
+fiercely Protestant in character : no opportunity is let slip to 
+illustrate the vices of Faust by references to the Roman 
+Church and its Popes. The name of the Famulus is changed 
+to Johann Wayger, and two or three stories, taken from 
+Luther’s table-talk, are arbitrarily applied to Faust ; whence 
+the work is not considered by scholars to be so fair a repre- 
+sentation of the popular traditions as that of Spiess. 
+
+A new edition of Widmann’s book, revised but not im- 
+proved by Dr. Pfitzer, was published in Nuremberg in 1674, 
+and revived the somewhat faded popularity of the legend. 
+The references to Faust in the Centuria of Camerarius (1602) 
+and in Neumann’s Disgussitio Historica, were known only to 
+the scholars, and Pfitzer’s reprint of Widmann was therefore 
+welcomed by the people, several editions having been called 
+for ina few years. By this time it was also represented as 
+a puppet-play, and the knowledge of Faust and his history 
+thus became universal in Germany. 
+
+The only other work which requires notice is an abbrevia. 
+tion of the legend, with some variations, written in a lively 
+narrative style, and published at Frankfurt and Leipzig in 
+the year 1728. The title is as follows: “The Compact 
+concluded by the Devil with Dr. Johann Faust, notorious 
+through the whole world as a sorcerer and arch-professor of 
+tbe Black Art, together with his adventurous course of life 
+and its terrifying end, all most minutely described. Now 
+again newly revised, compressed into an agreeable brevity, 
+
+
+344 FA OST. 
+
+
+and furnished in print as a hearty admonition and warning to 
+all wilful sinners, by One with Christian Intentions.” This 
+quaint and curious narrative was certainly known to Goethe, 
+as well as Widmann’s work. It is the last appearance of the 
+legend in a popular form: thenceforth, through many chan- 
+nels, the latter found its way into literature. 
+
+The original book of Spiess was followed in 1594 by an 
+account of the life of Christopher Wagner, whom the Devil 
+accompanied in the form of an ape, under the name of Auer- 
+hak» (moor-cock). It is an evident imitation of the story of 
+Faust ; there is a similar compact, there are magical tricks, 
+adventures, and airy travels, with a like tragical conclusion. 
+This book was translated into English the same year, and 
+immediately afterwards into Dutch; but there appears to 
+have been no further German edition until 1712, when the 
+original, with some additions, was reprinted in Berlin. In 
+1742, a play entitled “The Vicious Life and Terrible End of 
+Joh. Christoph Wagner,” was acted in the Frankfurt theatre. 
+
+The stamp of the sixteenth century — of its beliefs, its 
+superstitions, its struggles and its antagonisms—is unmis- 
+takably impressed on the legend. The singular individual, 
+half genius, half impostor, who bore the name of Faust, must 
+have typified then, as now, the activity of blind, formless, 
+unresting forces in the nature of the people; and through all 
+the coarseness and absurdity of the stories which they have 
+gathered around him, there are constant suggestions of the 
+general craving for some withheld knowledge or right. In 
+spite of Widmann’s “ Reminders ” and the “One with Chris- 
+tian In‘entions,” it is very doubtful whether the meral of 
+Faust’s ending overcame the sympathy of the people with 
+his courage or their admiration of his power. There are 
+elernents in the legend, the value of which even a purblind 
+poet could not help seeing, yet which the loftiest genius may 
+admit to be almost beyond his grasp. It ig not the least of 
+Goethe’s deserts, that, although in bis youth “a new Faust 
+was announced in every quarter of Germany.” he took up 
+the theme already hackneyed bv small talents, and made it 
+his own solely and forever. 
+
+
+
+
+
+APPENDIX. 348 
+
+
+APPENDIX II. 
+
+
+THE CHRONOLOGY OF FAUST. 
+
+
+AUST is the only great work in the literature of any 
+
+language which requires a biography. The first child 
+of Goethe’s brain and the Jast which knew the touch of his 
+hand, its growth runs parallel with his life and reflects all 
+forms of his manifold study and experience. While, there- 
+fore, its plan is simple, grand, and consistent from beginning 
+to end, the performance embraces so many varieties of style 
+and such a multitude of not always homogeneous elements, 
+that a chronological arrangement of the parts becomes ne 
+cessary as a guide to the reader. 
+
+During the illness which lasted for nearly a year after 
+Goethe’s return from Leipzig in 1768, while he was dis- 
+cussing religious questions with Fraulein von Klettenberg, 
+reading cabalistic works and making experiments in alchemy, 
+the subject of Faust, which was already familiar to him asa 
+child, through the puppet-plays, took powerful and perma- 
+nent hold on his imagination.* He carried it about with 
+
+
+* The premonitions of the ‘‘ Storm and Stress’ period, which were by 
+this time felt throughout Germany, directed the attention of many authors 
+towards Faust, as a subject for dramatic poetry. Lessing was the first to 
+take hold of it, but only fragments of three or four scenes of his tragedy 
+have been preserved. The work was completed before his journey to 
+Italy in 1775, and despatched from Dresden to Leipzig in a box which 
+was lost, and never afterwards came to light. Captain von Blankenburg, 
+in 1784, gave the following testimony concerning the tragedy, the manu- 
+script of which he had read: ‘*‘ He undertook his work at a time when ix 
+every quarter of Germany Fausts were announced as forthcoming ; and 
+I know that he completed it. I have been positively informed that he only 
+delayed its publication, in order that the other /axusts might first appear.” 
+
+Of these other Fausts one was published at Munich in 1775, another at 
+Mannheim in 1776, that of the painter Muller, Goethe’s friend, in 1778, 
+
+15 * 
+
+
+346 FAUST. 
+
+
+him in Strasburg, concealing it ‘rom Herder during their 
+intercourse in the winter of 1770 -71, and postponing it to 
+write his first great work, Gas von Berlichingen. He passed 
+the summer of 1772 at Wetzlar, but did not begin the com- 
+position of Werther, which was the direct result of his resi- 
+dence there, until the following year. “ Faust,” he says to 
+Eckermann, originated (in manuscript ?) at the same time 
+as Werther.” Thus the conception which he had grasped at 
+the age of twenty had been shaping itself in his brain for 
+four years, before any part of it was put into words Gotter, 
+whose acquaintance he had made in Wetzlar, sends him in 
+the summer of 1773 a poetical letter, in which he says: 
+“‘Send me, in return, thy Doctor Faust, as soon as he has 
+stormed out of tiiy head.” 
+
+It is not probable that more than the opening monologue 
+was written in 1773. Perhaps one or two of the first scenes 
+with Margaret were added the following year; for when 
+Klopstock visited Frankfurt in September, 1774, Goethe 
+read to him “some scenes” of Faust, which the older poet 
+then heartily praised, though he spoke slightingly of the 
+same scenes after they were published. In January, 1775, 
+Goethe read all that he had completed up to that time to his 
+friend Jacobi, who wrote to him in 1791, alluding to the pub- 
+lished ‘‘ Fragment”: “I knew nearly the whole of Fizst 
+already, and precisely for that reason I was doubly and trcbly 
+impressed by it. I have the same feeling now, as | had 
+sixteen years ago.” Except the “Cathedral” and * Dun- 
+geon”’ scenes, nearly all the parts in which Margaret is 
+introduced, as well as ‘“* Auerbach’s Cellar,” and the con- 
+versation of Mephistopheles.with the Student, were written 
+in the spring of 1775. It is very evident that Merck was 
+
+
+a fragment by Lenz in 1777, and a fifth in Salzburg, in 1782. Between 
+the publication of Goethe’s ‘‘ Fragment” in 1790 and that of the com- 
+pleted First Part in 1808, ine additional Faxsts, by various authors, 
+made their appearance ; and between the latter date and the pubtication 
+of the Second Part, in 1832, fowrteen more! Therefore, including the 
+work of Le<sing, the material of the Faust-legend was employed by 
+twenty-nine different authors, during the period which Goeth: devoted 
+to the elaboration of his own original design ! 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+APPENDIX. 347 
+
+
+also allowed to see the manuscript, and that Goethe’s de- 
+
+
+8ign was freely discussed among his friends. The publisher 
+
+
+Mylius, in Berlin, writes to Merck towards the end of 1774, 
+that he will take the manuscript of Goethe’s Sé//a for twenty 
+thalers (!), although he fears that the author may expect 
+“ fifty thalers for his next work, and perhaps a hundred louis 
+d’or for his Doctor Faust!” 
+
+Goethe says : “I brought the work with me to Weimar in 
+1775. i had written it on foolscap, without any erasures ; 
+for I was very careful not to write down a line which was 
+not good and might not be allowed to stand.” In this form 
+he read it to the Court circle, which at that time included 
+Wieland, Knebel, and Muszus. As nearly as can be ascer- 
+tained, the manuscript comprised the first half of Scene I., 
+the latter half of Scene IV., and the following series of scenes 
+to XVIII., with the exception of VI. and XIV. In addition 
+to these, there were probably several scenes which were af- 
+terwards omitted before the publication of the work, and one 
+(Scene XXIII., in prose) which was restored, many years 
+later. It is also evident that the plan of the whole work was 
+at least roughly outlined by this time. Its development, 
+however, —except through that secret, unconscious growth 
+which kept it alive under the production of so many other 
+works, — was now arrested for a long while. The concep- 
+tions of a young poet are always in advance of his power ; 
+hut there is a good attendant genius who thwarts and delays 
+the performance until the auspicious season. 
+
+In 1780, after the completion of /phigenia in Tauris, “nd 
+while his mind was still bathed in the Grecian atmosphere, 
+Goethe wrote portions of the /e/ena, for the Second Part of 
+Faust. There seems to be no doubt that the manuscript was 
+read to the Duke, Karl August, his mother, the Duchess 
+Amalia, to Herder and Knebel; but the scenes must have 
+been afterwards suppressed, for the existing //c/ena is cer- 
+tainly ofa later origin. This is, nevertheless, the only positive 
+evidence that anything was added to the work between 1775 
+and 1788. 
+
+Goethe’s journey to Italy was not only the realization of 
+
+
+348 FA OST. 
+
+
+an early desire, but it was also a necessary escape from the 
+irksome duties of his position at Weimar. He broke away 
+corcibly from affairs of state in order to recuperate himself 
+for poetry, and his eagerness and anxiety may be guessed 
+from the circumstance that he kept his plan secret from every 
+one except the Duke, fearing that he would never succeed if 
+his intention should become known. It was the old super- 
+stition of keeping silence while lifting a buried treasure. 
+The only manuscript he took with him was that of Faust, 
+which he had brought from Frankfurt, and which was now so 
+yellow and worn and frayed, that he says it might almost 
+have passed for an ancient codex. Nevertheless, he did not 
+succeed in returning to the work until the spring of 1788, 
+just before his final departure from Rome. He writes in 
+March: ‘It is a different thing, of course, to complete the 
+work now, instead of fifteen years ago; but I think nothing 
+is lost, since I feel sure of having regained the thread. In 
+so far as regards the tone of the whole, also, I am comforted : 
+I have already finished a new scene, and if the paper were 
+only smoked, I think no one could pick it out from the old 
+ones.” This new scene is the “ Witches’ Kitchen.” It is 
+doubtful whether the ‘“‘ Cathedral ” and “ Forest and Cavern” 
+were also added in Rome, or after his return to Weimar. 
+
+Finally, in 1790, in Géschen’s Leipzig edition of Goethe’s 
+works, Faust appeared as “ A Fragment.” I have already 
+mentioned, in the Notes, the scenes which it contains, from 
+I. to XX., with the exception of a gap from the middle of 
+Scene I. to the middle of Scene IV., and XIX. (Night: Val- 
+entine’s Death). The impression which the publication pro- 
+duced was not encouraging : the fragment was not generally 
+understood, and the power exhibited in the separate scenes 
+was only partially appreciated.* Goethe, occupied with 
+
+* Heyne, in Gottingen, wrote: ‘' There are fine passages in it, but with 
+them there are such things as only he could give to the world, who takes 
+all other men to be blockheads.”” Wieland expressed his regret that it 
+was such a patchwork of earlier and Jater labors. Schiller was then un- 
+satisfied with the impression it produced. and only Korner and Auguat 
+Schlegel] seem to have had some prescntiment of Goethe's design and the 
+grandeur of his fragmentary performance. 
+
+
+APPENDIX. 349 
+
+
+Wilhelm Meister and Hermann und Dorothea, banished it for 
+a time from his thoughts ; and the first instigation which led 
+him to resume the work came from Schiller, who thus wrote 
+to him on the 29th of November, 1794: ‘ But I have no less 
+desire to read those fragments of your Faust which are not 
+jet printed; for I confess that what I have already read 
+seems to me the torso of Hercules. In these scenes there is 
+a power and fulness of genius which clearly reveals the high- 
+est master-hand, and I wish to follow as far as possible the 
+bold and lofty nature which breathes through them.” Goethe 
+wrote in answer: “I can at present communicate nothing of 
+Faust; I do not dare to untie the package in which he is 
+imprisoned. I could not copy without continuing the work, 
+and I have no courage for that, now. If anything can restore 
+it to me in the future, it is surely your sympathy.” 
+
+It seems, however, that during the following winter Goethe 
+took the manuscript to Jena, and discussed the plan of the 
+work with Schiller, for in the summer of 1795 Wilhelm von 
+Humboldt writes to the latter, thanking him for his informa- 
+tion concerning Faust. ‘The plan,” he says, “is gigantic: 
+what a pity, therefore, that it will never be anything else than 
+a plan!” If Frau von Kalb’s memory is to be trusted, 
+Goethe wrote about this time the interview between Mephis- 
+topheles and the Baccalaureus (Part Second, Act II.), which 
+has generally been referred to a much later date. 
+
+There is no evidence that the First Part of Fasst was re- 
+sumed before 1797, when the “ Dedication ”’ and the ‘“‘ Pro- 
+logue in Heaven” were probably written, together with the 
+Intermezzo (Oberon and Titania’s Golden Wedding), which 
+was afterwards inserted by accident rather than design. In 
+1798 the “‘ Prelude on the Stage ” and perhaps the conclu- 
+sion of Scene I., together with Scene II. and III., appear to 
+have been written. It is probable that the concluding scene 
+of the First Part (the ‘ Dungeon ”’) was either produced or 
+rewritten at this time. Goethe writes to Schiller that he is 
+favored by “the lyrical mood of Spring,” and in several let- 
+ters announces the progress he is making in the work. Dur- 
+ing the year 1799 little, if anything, was accomplished: but 
+
+
+350 FAUST. 
+
+
+in 1800 Goethe commenced the composition of the Helena, 
+which is frequently mentioned in his correspondence with 
+Schiller during that year. He writes on one occasion: 
+“ During these eight days, I have fortunately been able to 
+hold fast the conception of the situations, of which you al- 
+ready know, and my Helena has actually entered on the 
+stage. But now the beauty in the ré/e of my heroine attracts 
+me so much, that I shall be disconsolate if I must at last 
+(since the whole can only be represented as a spectral ap- 
+pearance) transform her into a grinning mask.” Schiller 
+answers, apparently referring to former conversations: “ It 
+is a very important advantage, that you consciously advance 
+from the (artistically) pure to the impure, instead of seeking 
+a method of soaring from the impure to the pure, as is the 
+case with the rest of us barbarians. In Fasst, therefore, you 
+must everywhere assert your right of force” (Fasstrechi, an 
+untranslatable pun). 
+
+In the autumn of 1800, Goethe laid the Alena aside, and 
+devoted himself seriously to the completion of the First 
+Part. He wrote the Walpurgis-Night and the scene of 
+Valentine’s death, and then endeavored to fill the gap 
+remaining between the /#termesso and the ‘ Dungeon” 
+scene. In this he was unsuccessful, and all his remaining 
+labor from that time until] the publication of the First Part, 
+complete, in 1808, was probably merely that of adjustment 
+and revision. The depression which weighed upon him 
+after Schiller's death in 1805 affected his interest in Fasst 
+more than in any other of his literary plans. 
+
+When the First Part finally appeared, the following por- 
+tions of the Second Part appear to have been already in 
+existence: Scene I., and possibly a part of Scene II., of 
+Act I; Scene I. of Act II.; nearly the first half of Act 
+III. (Helena); and some fragments of Act V. There is no 
+doubt that Goethe knew, as he wrote to Zelter nearly twenty 
+years afterwards, “what was still necessary to be written, 
+but was not yet decided in regard to the ow.” It is not 
+necessary to recapitulate here all the interruptions, the vary- 
+ing literary and scientific interests, which came between the 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+APPENDIX. 351 
+
+
+pian and its fulfilment. Goethe was fifty-nine years old 
+when the First Part was published, and the years passed by 
+in other labors until he was seventy-five, before the impulse 
+to complete the Second Part returned to him. 
+
+In 1824 he gave to Eckermann a programme which he 
+had prepared for the completion of Wahrheit und Dichtung. 
+It contained a prose outline of the continuation of Faust, and 
+&ckermann wrote in reply: ‘Whether this plan of Faust 
+should be communicated or held in reserve, is a doubt which 
+can only be solved after the fragments already in existence 
+have been carefully examined, and it is clear whether the 
+hope of completing the work must be given up or not.” 
+This hint seems to have aroused Goethe: the plan was 
+withheld, and the work was commenced, certainly in the fol- 
+lowing year. The elena, to which he felt most strongly 
+attracted, received a new interest for him through the idea of 
+representing Byron in the child Euphorion, and the Act was 
+finished in 1826. It was published in 1827, in the fourth 
+volume of ‘‘Goethe’s Works, with the Author’s Fina] Re- 
+visions,” under the title of “‘ Helena: a Classico-Romantic 
+Phantasmagoria,” and at once excited the greatest interest 
+and curiosity. From Edinburgh to Moscow the European 
+critics seem to have been both delighted and puzzled by it. 
+Carlyle wrote an admirable paper upon it, in which he shows 
+great shrewdness in unriddling its symbolism. The encour- 
+agement which such a reception of the single act gave to 
+Goethe, stimulated him anew to complete the work, and for 
+four years longer it became the leading motive of his life. 
+
+In the beginning of 1828 the first three scenes of the First 
+Act— Faust’s Awakening, the Emperor’s Court, and the 
+Carnival Masquerade — were published in the twelfth vol- 
+ume of his works, and were received with an enthusiasm 
+equal to that which the Aé/ena called forth. Goethe, now 
+nearly eighty years old, worked slowly and with a laggard 
+power of invention ; but he held to his conceptions with the 
+same tenacity as in his earliest literary youth, and suffered 
+no favorable mood of body or mind to pass without adding 
+some lines. The portions already completed were fastened 
+
+
+352 FAUST. 
+
+
+together, with blank sheets of a different color between, in- 
+dicating the gaps yet to be filled; and he rejoiced from 
+month to month as the unwritten gave place to the written 
+color. During 1829 and 1830 the First Act was completed, 
+and the whole of the Second Act, including the Classical 
+Walpurgis-Night, was written; so that, at the beginning of 
+1831, there only remained the Fourth Act and the opening 
+scenes of the Fifth. This was the most laborious part of 
+the task, and has left upon it palpable traces of labor; but 
+by the end of July the work was done, and on his eighty- 
+second birthday, August 28, 1831, Goethe sealed up the 
+complete manuscript of the Second Part, to be opened and 
+published after his death. ‘“ From this time on,” he said to 
+Eckermann, “I look upon my life as a perfect gift, and it is 
+really indifferent what I may further do, or whether I shall 
+do anything.” Seven months afterwards, he was dead. 
+Faust is, in the most comprehensive sense, a drama of the 
+Life of Man. The course of its moral and intellectual plot, 
+as first designed by the author, is now and then delayed by 
+the material added to it during the different phases of his 
+own development, but was never changed. This plot is 
+chiefly unfolded to the reader through the medium of two 
+elements, which, from first to last, are combined in it, yet may 
+easily be separated. The difficulties in the way of its com- 
+prehension have been caused by the introduction of a third, 
+accidental, and unnecessary element, which is so interwoven 
+with the others (especially in the Second Part), that the reader 
+is often led away from the true path before he is aware of it. 
+The first of the elements, and the one which gives indi- 
+vidual coloring and reality to the characters, Goethe drew 
+from his own experience. All the earlier scenes, he de- 
+clares, were subjectively written: Mephistopheles and Faust 
+were the opposite poles of his own nature. His own ambi- 
+tion, disappointment, love, unrest, are all reflected through- 
+out the First Part; and the poise of his riper nature, his 
+zsthetic passion and his religious feeling, in the opening of 
+the First Act, the Ae/ena, and the Fifth Act of the Second 
+Part. The second element, drawn from his objective study 
+
+
+APPENDIX. 353 
+
+
+of men and his observation of the world, is blended witb 
+the former, but especially manifests itself in the aphoris- 
+tic character of much of the Second Part, and in the sym- 
+bolism which he so constantly employs for the sake of more 
+compressed expression. I have endeavored to indicate, in 
+the Notes, all that can be traced to his own personal expe- 
+rience, and thereby to furnish a guide which may direct the 
+reader to that more intimate and satisfactory knowledge 
+which will follow his own studies. 
+
+What I have called the accidental element is illustrated 
+by the /stermeszo, which was wilfully inserted ; by the lit- 
+erary satire in the Witches’ Kitchen and the Walpurgis- 
+Night ; and in the Second Part by the paper-money scene in 
+the First Act, the controversy of the Neptunists and Pluto- 
+nists in the Second and the Fourth, and the introduction of 
+Byron in the Third. All these features must be eliminated 
+from the moral and intellectual course of the action, with 
+which they have not the slightest connection. Indeed, the 
+whole of the Classical Walpurgis-Night, admirable and won- 
+derful as it is, in parts, forms a very roundabout mode of 
+transition from the Emperor’s Court to the allegory of He- 
+lena. Only by holding fast to the leading idea can we safely 
+follow its labyrinthine windings. 
+
+What Goethe himself said of Faxs¢ in his eightieth year, in 
+speaking of Stapfer’s French translation, may be quoted in 
+conclusion, as an estimate equally modest and just: “The 
+commendation which the work has received, far and near, 
+may perhaps be owing to this quality — that it permanently 
+preserves the period of development of a human soul, which 
+is tormented by all that afflicts mankind, shaken also by all 
+that disturbs it, repelled by all that it finds repellent, and 
+made happy by all that which it desires. The author is a 
+present far removed from such conditions: the world, like- 
+wise, has to some extent other struggles to undergo: never- 
+theless, the state of men, in joy and sorrow, remains very 
+much the same; and the latest-born will still find cause ta 
+acquaint himself with what has been enjoyed and suffered be- 
+fore him, in order to adapt himself to that which awaits him.” 
+
+
+354 FAUST. 
+
+
+APPENDIX III. 
+
+
+MARLOWE’S “DR. FAUSTUS.” 
+
+
+\ R. DYCE’S recent edition of Marlowe renders it un- 
+A necessary that I should add an account of the manner 
+in which the latter has treated the legend. His material, as 
+I have already stated, was the English translation of Spiess‘s 
+book, published in London in 1590. I quote the first scene, 
+because it offers both a resemblance and a contrast to the 
+first scene of Goethe :— 
+
+
+Enter Cnorus. 
+
+
+Not marching in the fields of Tharsimen, 
+Where Mars did mate the warlike Carthigen : 
+Nor sporting in the dalliance of love, 
+
+In courts of kings, where state is overturned ; 
+Nor in the pomp of proud, audacious deeds, 
+Intends our muse to vaunt his heavenly verse : 
+Only this, gentles, we must now perform, 
+
+The form of Faustus’ fortunes, good or bad: 
+And now to patient judgments we appeal, 
+
+And speak for Faustus in his infancy : 
+
+Now is he born of parents base of stock, 
+
+In Germany, within a town called Rhodes ; 
+
+At riper years to Wittenburg he went : 
+
+So much he profits in divinity, 
+
+That shortly he was graced with Doctor’s name, 
+Excelling all, and sweetly can dispute 
+
+In th’ heavenly matters of theology : 
+
+Till, swoln with cunning and a self-conceit, 
+His waxen wings did mount above his reach ; 
+And melting heavens conspired his overthrow ; 
+For falling to a devilish exercise, 
+
+And glutted now with learning’s golden gifts, 
+He surfeits on the cursed necromancy. 
+Nothing so sweet as magic is to him, 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+APPENDIX. 355 
+
+
+Which he prefers before his chiefest bliss, 
+Whereas his kinsman chiefly brought him up, 
+And this the man that in his study sits. 
+
+
+Act THe First. — Scene I. 
+
+
+Faustus tx Ais study. 
+
+
+Faust. Settle thy studies, Faustus, and beg, 
+To sound the depth of that thou wilt profess ; 
+Having commenced, be a divine in show, 
+
+Yet level at the end of every art, 
+
+And live and die in Aristotle’s works. 
+
+Sweet analytics, ’tis thou hast ravished me. 
+Bene disserere est fines logicis 
+
+Is, to dispute well, logic’s chiefest end? 
+Affords this art no greater miracle? 
+
+Then read no more ; thou hast attained that end. 
+A greater subject fitteth Faustus’ wit : 
+
+Bid economy farewell : and Galen come. 
+
+Be a physician, Faustus; heap up gold, 
+
+And be eternized for some wondrous cure ; 
+Suneneum bonum medicina sanitas ; 
+
+The end of physic is our bodies’ health. 
+
+Why, Faustus, hast thou not attained that end? 
+Are not thy bills hung up as monuments, 
+Whereby whole cities have escaped the plague, 
+And thousand desperate maladies been cured? 
+Yet thou art stil] but Faustus and a man. 
+Couldst thou make men to live eternally, 
+
+Or, being dead, raise them to life again, 
+
+Then this profession were to be esteemed. 
+Physic, farewell! Where is Justinian? 
+
+Si una eademque res legatur duobus, 
+
+Alter rem, alter valorem rei, &¢. 
+
+A petty case of paltry legacies. 
+
+E-xhereditari filium non potest Jater nisi, &¢. 
+Such is the subject of the institute, 
+
+And universal body of the law. 
+
+This study fits a mercenary drudge, 
+
+Who aims at nothing but external trash, 
+
+‘Noo servile and illiberal for me. 
+
+When all is done, divinity is best 
+
+Jerome’s Bible, Faustus: view it well. 
+Stifendium peccati mors est: ha! stipendium, &. 
+The reward of sin is death: that ’s hard. 
+
+
+356 FA OST. 
+
+
+St peccAsse neganeus, fallineur, et nulla est in nobis veritas : 
+If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, ana there 3s no truth in us 
+Why then belike we must sin, 
+
+And so consequently die. 
+
+Ay, we must die an everlasting death. 
+
+What doctrine call you this? Che sera, sera: 
+What will be, shall be ; divinity, adieu ! 
+
+These metaphysics of magicians, 
+
+And necromantic books are heavenly ! 
+
+Lines, circles, letters, characters : 
+
+Ay, these are those that Faustus most desires. 
+Oh ! what a world ot profit and delight, 
+
+Of power, of honur, and omnipotence, 
+
+Is promised to the studious artisan ! 
+
+All things that move between the quiet pole 
+Shall be at my command Emperors and kings 
+Are but obeyed in their several provinces ; 
+
+But his dominion that exceeds in this, 
+Stretches as far as doth the mind of man: 
+
+A sound magician is ademigod. 
+
+Here tire my orains to get a deity. 
+
+
+(Enter WAGNER.) 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+FAUST 
+A Lrageoy 
+
+
+JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE 
+
+
+TRANSLATED, IN THE ORIGINAL METRES, BY 
+
+
+BAYARD TAYLOR 
+
+
+TWO VOLUMES IN ONE 
+VOL. ILI. 
+
+
+Sein Obr vernimmt den Einklang der veer: 
+
+Was die Geschichte reicht, das Leben ci 
+
+Sein Bussen nimmt ¢s gleich und willig I. 
+
+Das weit Zerstreute sammelt sein Gemiith 
+
+Und sein Geliihl belebt das Unbelebte. 
+GortHr: Tatimn 
+
+
+
+
+
+BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
+HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
+Che Hivergive Press Cambridge 
+
+
+
+
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1871, BY BAYARD TAYLOR 
+COPYRIGHT, 1899 AND 1913, BY MARIE HANSEN TAYLOR 
+
+
+ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
+
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION. 
+
+
+— fo 
+
+
+Eleusin servat quod ostendat revisentibus. 
+Sangca, Qucest. Nat. vii. 31. 
+
+
+KNOW how much prepossession I encounter, 
+
+in claiming for the Second Part of Faust a 
+higher intellectual character, if a lower dramatic 
+and poetical value, than the First Part. In Mr. 
+Hayward’s Appendix, and Mr. Lewes’ Life of 
+Goethe, the Second Part is virtually declared to 
+be a secondary, unimportant work, chaotic in de- 
+tail and without any consistent design as a whole, 
+in short, the mistake of Goethe’s old age, instead 
+of being, as it really is, the conception of his 
+prime, partly written, and entirely planned, before 
+the publication of the First Part. 
+
+The five translations which have already ap- 
+peared have, unfortunately, not succeeded in pre- 
+senting the wc « clearly and attractively to the 
+English reader Those of Bernays, Macdonald, 
+and Gurney are characterized by knowledge of the 
+text, but give no satisfactory clew to the author’s 
+
+
+
+
+
+design ; while that of Dr. Anster, the most read. 
+able of all, and showing a further insight into the 
+meaning, is a very loose paraphrase, rather than a 
+translation. The original metres, which are here 
+even more important than in the First Part, have 
+been retained by no translator. I do not wish to 
+be understood as passing an unfriendly judgment 
+upon the labors of my predecessors ; for I have 
+learned what difficulties stood in their way, and 
+also how easy it is, in the perplexing labyrinth of 
+German comment, to miss the simplest and surest 
+key to Goethe’s many-sided allegories. 
+
+The first mistake which many of the critics have 
+‘made is in attempting any comparison of the two 
+‘parts. While the moral and intellectual problem, 
+which is first stated in the Prologue in Heaven, 
+advances through richer and broader phases of 
+development to its final solution, the story which 
+comes to an end in Margaret’s dungeon is not 
+resumed. The Second Part opens abruptly in a 
+broad, bright, crowded world ; we not only breathe 
+a new atmosphere, but we come back to Faust and 
+Mephistopheles as if after a separation of many 
+years, and find that our former acquaintances have 
+changed in the interval, even as ourselves. “It 
+must be remembered,” says Goethe, “that the 
+First Part is the development of a somewhat ob- 
+scure individual condition. It is almost wholly 
+subjective ; it is the expression of a confused, 
+restricted, and passionate nature.” On the other 
+hand, we learn from the study of Goethe’s life 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION. Vv 
+
+
+that the wealth of the material which he had 
+accumulated for the Second Part occasioned an 
+embarrassment in regard to the form, which partly 
+accounts for the long postponement of the work. 
+He expressly declares* that the Second Part of 
+the drama must be performed upon a different, a 
+broader, and more elevated stage of action ; that 
+one who has not lived in the world and acquired 
+some experience will not know how to compre- 
+hend it; and that, like an unsolved riddle, it will 
+repeatedly allure the reader to the renewed study 
+of its secret meanings. 
+
+The last of these declarations is not egotistical, 
+because it is so exactly true. No commentary can 
+exhaust the suggestiveness of the work. Schiller 
+doubted that a poetic measure could be formed, 
+capable of holding Goethe’s plan; and we find, 
+indeed, that the substance overflows its bounds on 
+all sides. With all which the critics have accom- 
+plished, they have still left enough untouched to 
+allow fresh discoveries to every sympathetic read- 
+er. There are circles within circles, forms which 
+beckon and then disappear ; and when we seem 
+to have reached the bottom of the author’s mean- 
+ing, we suspect that there is still something be- 
+yond. The framework lay buried so long in the 
+sea of Goethe’s mind, that it became completely 
+incrusted, here and there with a barnacle, it is 
+
+
+* Announcement of the Ae/ena (quoted in note 103). 
+Correspondence with Schiller, and Eckermann’s Conversa- 
+tions. 
+
+
+vi FAUST. 
+
+
+true, but also with a multitude of pearl-oysters 
+Many of the crowded references are directly de- 
+ducible from the allegory; still more are made 
+clear to us through a knowledge of Goethe’s devel- 
+opment, as man and poet ; while some few have 
+lost the clew to their existence, and must probably 
+always stand, orphaned and strange, on one side 
+or other of the plain line of development running 
+through the poem. 
+
+The early disparagement which the Second Part 
+of Faust received is only in our day beginning to 
+give way to an intelligent recognition of its grand 
+design, its wealth of illustration, and the almost 
+inexhaustible variety and beauty of its rhythmi- 
+cal forms. Although its two chief offences (to the 
+German mind) are not yet, and perhaps never can 
+be wholly, condoned, the period of misconception 
+is over, and the voices of rage or contempt, once 
+so frequently heard, are becoming faint and few. 
+The last twenty-five years have greatly added to 
+our means of elucidation ; and much that seemed 
+to be whim or purposed obscurity is now revealed 
+in clear and intelligible outlines. When Vischer 
+compares the work to a picture of the old Titian, 
+wherein the master-hand is still recognized, but 
+trembling with age and stippling in the color with 
+slow, painful touches, he forgets that the design 
+was already drawn, and some of the figures nearly 
+completed, in the Master's best days. I should 
+rather liken it to a great mosaic, which, looked at 
+near at hand, shows us the mixture of precious 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION. vil 
+
+
+marbles and common pebbles, of glass, jasper, 
+and lapis-lazuli; but, seen in the proper perspec- 
+tive, exhibits ‘only the Titanic struggle of Man, 
+surrounded with shapes of Beauty and Darkness, 
+towards a victorious immortality. 
+
+It would have been better, undoubtedly, if the 
+completion of the work had not been so long 
+delayed, and Goethe had thereby been able to 
+give us, with more limited stores of knowledge, a 
+greater poetic unity. It is hardly the feebleness 
+of the octogenarian which we perceive. The ac- 
+quisitions of the foregoing thirty years seemed to 
+have gradually formed a crust over the lambent 
+poetical element in his nature; but the native 
+force of the latter is nowhere so wonderfully re- 
+vealed as here, since it is still able to crack and 
+shiver the erudite surface of his mind, and to 
+flame out clearly and joyously. Wherever it thus 
+displays itself, it is still the same pure, illuminat- 
+ing, solving and blending power, as in his earlier 
+years. 
+
+The reader to whom this book is a new land 
+must of necessity be furnished with a compass 
+and an outline chart before he enters it. He 
+may, otherwise, lose his way in its tropical jun- 
+gles, before reaching that “ peak in Darien,” from 
+which Keats, like Balboa, beheld a new side of 
+the world. While the Notes contain as much in- 
+terpretation of the details of the plan as seems 
+to be possible at present, I consider that a brief 
+previous statement of the argument is absolutely 
+required. 
+
+
+Viil FA UST. 
+
+
+We must forget the tragical story of the First 
+Part, and return to the compact between Faust 
+and Mephistopheles, where the latter declares: 
+“The little world, and then the great, we ’ll see.” 
+‘The former world is at an end, and, after an open- 
+ing scene which symbolizes the healing influences 
+of Time and Nature, Faust and his companion 
+appear at the Court of the German Emperor. 
+The ruined condition of the realm gives Mephis- 
+topheles a chance of acquiring place and power 
+for Faust, through the introduction of a new finan- 
+cial system. While this is in progress, the days 
+of Carnival furnish the occasion for a Masquer- 
+ade, crowded with allegorical figures, representing 
+Society and Government. Goethe found that no 
+detached phases of life were adequate to his pur- 
+pose. Faust, in the First Part, is an individual, 
+in narrow association with other individuals: here 
+he is thrown into the movement of the world, the 
+phenomena of human development, and becomes, 
+to a certain extent, typical of Man. Hence the 
+allegorical character of the Masquerade, which is 
+confusing, from the great range and mixture of its 
+symbolism. 
+
+The Emperor’s wish to have Paris and Helena 
+called from the Shades (as in the original Legend) 
+is expressed when Faust is already growing weary 
+of the artificial life of the Court. Mephistopheles 
+sends him to the mysterious Mothers, that he 
+may acquire the means of evoking the models of 
+beauty ; and at this point the artistic, or zsthetic 
+
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION. ix 
+
+
+element —the sense of the Beautiful in the human 
+mind — is introduced as a most important agent 
+of human culture, gradually refining and purifying 
+Faust’s nature, and lifting it forever above all the 
+meanness and littleness of the world. Mephis 
+topheles is bound by his compact to serve, even in 
+fulfilling this aspiration which he cannot compre- 
+hend; but he obeys unwillingly, and with con. 
+tinual attempts to regain his diminishing power. 
+After the apparition of Helena, and Faust’s rash 
+attempt to possess at once the Ideal of the Beauti- 
+ful, the scene changes to the latter’s old Gothic 
+chamber, where we meet the Student of the First 
+Part as a Baccalaureus, and find Wagner, in his 
+laboratory, engaged in creating a Homunculus. 
+This whimsical sprite guides Faust and Mephis- 
+topheles to the Classical Walpurgis-Night, where 
+the former continues his pilgrimage towards He- 
+lena (the Beautiful), while the latter, true to his 
+negative character, finally reaches his ideal of 
+Ugliness in the Phorkyads. The allegory of the 
+Classical Walpurgis-Night is also difficult to be 
+unravelled, but it is not simply didactic, like that 
+of the Carnival Masquerade. A purer strain of 
+poetry breathes through it, and the magical moon- 
+light which shines upon its closing Festals of the 
+Sea prepares us for the sunbright atmosphere of 
+the Helena, 
+
+This interlude, occupying the Third Act, is an- 
+other allegory, complete in itself, and only lightly 
+attached to the course of the drama. While it 
+
+
+x FAUST. 
+
+
+exhibits, in the latter connection, the esthetic 
+purification of Faust’s nature, its leading motive 
+is the reconciliation of the Classic and Romantic 
+elements in Art and Literature. Euphorion, the 
+child of Faust and Helena, who vanishes in flame, 
+leaving only his garments and lyre behind him, is 
+then presented to us as Byron, and the Act closes 
+with a transmigration of “the fair humanities of 
+old religion” into the spirit and sentiment of 
+Modern Poetry. 
+
+The Fourth Act exhibits Faust to us, enlight- 
+ened and elevated above his former self, and anx- 
+ious for a grand and worthy sphere of activity. 
+His aim is, to bend Nature to the service of Man, 
+—to bar the ocean from a great stretch of half- 
+submerged land, and thus conquer the aimless 
+force of the unruly elements. Mephistopheles 
+takes advantage of the political dissensions of the 
+Empire, and the appearance of a new claimant for 
+the crown, at the head of an army, to proffer his 
+own and Faust’s services to the Emperor. A bat- 
+tle takes place; the rebels are defeated, through 
+the magic arts of Mephistopheles, and Faust re- 
+ceives the sea-shore in feoff forever. 
+
+The Fifth Act opens on the accomplished work. 
+Faust, a hundred years old, inhabits a palace, in 
+the midst of a green, thickly-peopted land, diked 
+from the sea. But he has not yet found the one 
+moment of supreme happiness. A pestilential 
+marsh still remains to be drained ; and he has not 
+succeeded in gaining the coveted possession of a 
+
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION. xi 
+
+
+sand-hill near his palace, the residence of an old 
+couple who have charge of a little chapel on the 
+downs. Mephistopheles endeavors to implicate 
+him in the guilty seizure of this Naboth’s vine- 
+yard, but is again baffled. Faust, become blind, 
+finds a clearer light dawning upon his spirit: while 
+the workmen are employed upon the canal which 
+completes his great work, he perceives that he has 
+created free and happy homes for the coming gen- 
+erations of men, and the fore-feeling of satisfied 
+achievement impels him to say to the passing 
+Moment: “ Ah, still delay,— thou art so fair!” 
+When the words are uttered, he sinks upon the 
+earth, dead. 
+
+The struggle of Mephistopheles with the angels 
+for the possession of Faust’s soul, and a scene in 
+Heaven, where Margaret appears, like Beatrice in 
+Dante’s /aradiso, as the spiritual guide of her 
+redeemed lover, close the drama. Although the 
+condition of the compact has been fulfilled, Meph- 
+istopheles loses his wager. In willing the Bad, 
+he has worked the Good: the “obscure aspiration ” 
+in Faust’s nature has lifted itself, through Love, 
+Experience, the refining power of the Beautiful, 
+and beneficent activity, to more than an instinct, 
+to a knowledge of “the one true way.” The 
+Epilogue in Heaven carries us back to the Prol- 
+ogue, and indicates to us, through a wondrous, 
+mystic symbolism, the victorious vitality of Good 
+and the omnipotence of the Divine Love. 
+
+Briefly, then, Act I. represents Society and Gov- 
+
+
+
+
+
+arr FAUST. 
+
+
+ernment; Acts II. and III. the development of 
+the Idea of the Beautiful as the highest human 
+attribute, with almost a saving power; Act IV., 
+War; and Act V., Beneficent Activity, crowned by 
+Grace and Redemption. The financial scheme, 
+the discussion of geological theories, the union of 
+the Classic and Romantic, and the introduction 
+of those three tricksy spirits, the Boy Charioteer, 
+Homunculus, and Euphorion (whom I have inter- 
+preted as different personifications of Goethe’s 
+own Poetic Genius), must be considered as digres- 
+sions from the direct course of the plot. In order 
+to understand how they originated, and the prob- 
+able raisons d’étre by which the author justified 
+them to his own mind, I refer the reader to the 
+Notes, which will be found indispensable. I 
+might, indeed, have greatly added to the latter, 
+had I not felt obliged to consider that those to 
+whom the material is not familiar may as easily 
+lose their clew through too much detail of inter- 
+pretation as from the unexplained text. 
+
+Goethe’s chief offence is the license which he 
+allows himself in regard to his language. We 
+find, especially in those portions which were last 
+written, frequent instances of crabbed, arbitrary 
+construction, words and compounds invented in 
+defiance of all rule, and various other deviations 
+from his own full, clear, and rounded style.* This 
+
+
+* “That which first repels the reader in this second 
+Faust-drama is the philological element, which is found 
+throughout the greater part of it. A dragging march of the 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION. xiii 
+
+
+has been contemptuously called the “ Privy-Coun- 
+cillor’s dialect ” (Geheimrathssprache) by some of 
+the critics, who assail Goethe with cries of wrath ; 
+but it is a feature of the original which cannot be 
+reproduced in the translation, and ought not to 
+be, if it could be. If the reader now and then 
+falls upon an unusual compound, or a seemingly 
+forced inversion of language, I must beg him to 
+remember that my sins against the poetical laws 
+of the English language are but a small percentage 
+of Goethe’s sins against the German. The other 
+difficulty seems to lie partly in the intellectual 
+constitution of the critics themselves, many of 
+whom are nothing if not metaphysical. The ful- 
+ness of the matter is such that various apparently 
+consistent theories may be drawn from it, and 
+much of the confusion which has thence ensued 
+has been charged to the author’s account. Here, 
+as in the First Part, the study of Goethe’s life and 
+other works has been my guide through the laby- 
+rinth of comment; I have endeavored to give, in 
+every case, the simplest and most obvious inter- 
+pretation, even if, to some readers, it may not 
+seem the most satisfactory. 
+
+
+diction, awkwardly long and painfully complicated sentences, 
+a mass of unsuccessful verbal forms and adaptations, unne- 
+cessarily obscure images, forced transitions, affected superla- 
+tive participles and compounds, —all these things operate 
+repellently enough upon many persons, and spoil, in advance, 
+their enjoyment of the work.” — Xastlin, Goethe's Faust, 
+Seine Kritiker und Ausleger, 
+
+
+xiv FAUST. 
+
+
+I have adhered, as those familiar with the origi- 
+nal text will perceive, to the same plan of trans- 
+lation. The original metres are more closely 
+reproduced than even in the First Part, for the 
+predominance of symbol and aphorism, in the 
+place of sentiment and passion, has, in this re- 
+spect, made my task more easy; and there are, 
+from beginning to end, less than a score of lines 
+where I have been compelled to take any liberty 
+with either rhythm or rhyme. Indeed, the form, 
+especially in the Ae/ena, is so intimately blended 
+with the symbolical meaning, that I cannot con- 
+ceive of the two being separated ; for they are 
+soul and body, and separation, to us, is death of 
+the one and disappearance of the other. The 
+classic metres, which Goethe uses, surely lend 
+themselves as readily to the English language as 
+to the German ; and, while I have rendered this 
+portion of the drama almost as literally as would 
+be possible in prose, I can only hope that the 
+unaccustomed ear will not be startled and repelled 
+by its new metrical character. I am not aware 
+that either the iambic trimeter or the trochaic 
+tetrameter has ever been introduced into English 
+verse. The classic reader, who may miss the 
+czesura here and there, will, I trust, recognize both 
+the necessity and the justification. 
+
+In conctuding this labor of years, I venture to 
+express the hope that, however I may have fallen 
+short of reproducing the original in another, though 
+a kindred language, I may, at least, have assisted 
+
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION. xv 
+
+
+in naturalizing the masterpiece of German litera- 
+ture among us, and to that extent have explained 
+the supreme place which has been accorded to 
+Goethe among the poets of the world. Where I 
+have differed from the German critics and com- 
+mentators, I would present the plea, that the laws 
+of construction are similar, whether one builds a 
+cottage or a palace ; and the least of authors, to 
+whom metrical expression is a necessity, may have 
+some natural instinct of the conceptions of the 
+
+
+highest. 
+
+
+March, 1871. 
+
+
+B. T. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ScENE 
+
+
+Il. 
+III. 
+IV. 
+
+
+VI. 
+VIL. 
+
+
+Il. 
+Il. 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF THE TRAGEDY. 
+
+
+CONTENTS. 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+
+
+A PLEASANT LANDSCAPE. 
+
+
+THE EMPEROR’S CASTLE 
+
+
+Spacious HALL (Carnrval Masquerade) . 
+
+
+PLEASURE-GARDEN (Pafer-Money Scheme) . 
+A Groomy GALLERY ( Zhe Mothers) 
+
+
+BRILLIANTLY LIGHTED HALLS 
+
+
+HALL OF THE KNIGHTS (farts and Helena) 
+
+
+A GOTHIC CHAMBER, FORMERLY FAUST’S 
+
+
+ACT IT. 
+
+
+LABORATORY (Homunculus) . 
+
+
+CLASSICAL WALPURGIS-NIGHT. 
+
+
+I. 
+IT. 
+IIl. 
+IV. 
+V. 
+
+
+THE PHARSALIAN FIRLDS 
+PENEUS 
+
+
+ON THE UPPER PENEUS, AS BEFORE 
+Rocky COVES OF THE ASGEAN SEA 
+
+
+TELCHINES OF RHODES. 
+
+
+kf 
+
+
+103 
+114 
+124 
+145 
+155 
+
+
+
+
+
+xviii CONTENTS. 
+
+
+ACT III. 
+THE HELENA . . .«© «© © © « « 364 
+
+
+ACT IV. 
+I. HicH MounrtTAINS ; ‘ P P 228 
+II. ON THE HEADLAND es ‘ F - 24! 
+
+
+III. THe RivaL Emperor’s TENT . ‘ ° 259 
+
+
+ACT V. 
+
+
+I. Open COUNTRY ‘ : : ; . « 271 
+II. IN THE LITTLE GARDEN. ° ‘ 274 
+III. PaLace. . ; . ; 
+IV. DEaD OF NIGHT . ‘ 
+
+V. MIDNIGHT (Faust’s Blinduess) . 
+
+
+VIL GREAT OUTER COURT OF THE PALACE (Faust’s 
+Death) . «© «© «© «6  . - + 292 
+
+
+VII. MounTaIn-Gorces, Forest, RocK, DESERT 305 
+
+
+PS 
+
+
+NOTES ee ee ee a a ne em 
+
+
+
+
+
+PSD Be 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF THE TRAGEDY. 
+
+
+IN FIVE ACTS. 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+VOL. IL. 3 
+
+
+
+
+
+A PLEASANT LANDSCAPE. 
+
+
+TWILIGHT. 
+
+
+Faust, bedded on flowery turf, fatigued, restless, endeavoring 
+to sleep. Circle of hovering spirits in motion: graceful, 
+diminutive figures. 
+
+ARIEL." 
+(Chant, accompanied by AEolian harps.) 
+HEN the Spring returns serener 
+
+Raining blossoms over all ; 
+When the fields with blessing greener 
+On the earth-born children call; 
+Then the craft of elves propitious 
+Hastes to help where help it can: 
+Be he holy, be he vicious, 
+Pity they the luckless man. 
+
+
+Who round this head in airy circles hover, 
+Yourselves in guise of noble Elves discover ! 
+The fierce convulsions of his heart compose ; 
+Remove the burning barbs of his remorses, 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+And cleanse his being from the suffered woes! 
+
+Four pauses makes the Night upon her courses,? 
+And now, delay not, let them kindly close! 
+
+First on the coolest pillow let him slumber, 
+
+Then sprinkle him with Lethe’s drowsy spray ! 
+
+His limbs no more shall cramps and chills encumber, 
+When sleep has made him strong to meet the day. 
+Perform, ye Elves, your fairest rite: 
+
+Restore him to the holy Light ! 
+
+
+CHORUS 3 
+(singly, by two or more, alternately and collectsvely). 
+
+
+When around the green-girt meadow 
+Balm the tepid winds exhale, 
+
+Then in fragrance and in shadow 
+Twilight spreads her misty veil : 
+Whispers peace in accents cheery, 
+Rocks the heart in childhood’s play, 
+And upon these eyelids weary 
+
+Shuts the golden gates of Day. 
+
+
+Now the Night already darkles, 
+Holy star succeeds to star; 
+Dazzling lights and fainter sparkles 
+Glimmer near and gleam afar : 
+Glimmer here, the lake reflecting, 
+Gleam in cloudless dark aboon ; 
+While, the bliss of rest protecting, 
+Reigns in pomp the perfect moon. 
+
+
+Now the Hours are cancelled for thee, 
+Pain and bliss have fled away : 
+Thou art whole: let faith restore thee ! 
+Trust the new, the rising Day! 
+
+
+/ 
+ACT 7. 
+
+
+Vales grow green, and hills are lifting 
+Through the shadow-rest of morn; 
+And in waves of silver, drifting 
+
+On to harvest, rolls the corn. 
+
+
+Wouldst thou win desires unbounded, 
+Yonder see the glory burn! 
+
+Lightly is thy life surrounded — 
+Sleep ’s a shell, to break and spurn! 
+When the crowd sways, unbelieving, 
+Show the daring will that warms! 
+
+He is crowned with all achieving, 
+Who perceives and then performs. 
+
+
+(4 tremendous tumult announces the approach of the Sun.) 
+
+
+ARIEL. 
+
+
+Hearken! Hark!—the Hours careering! 
+Sounding loud to spirit-hearing, 
+
+See the new-born Day appearing! 
+Rocky portals jarring shatter, 
+Phcebus’ wheels in rolling clatter, 
+With a crash the Light draws near !4 
+Pealing rays and trumpet-blazes, — 
+Eye is blinded, ear amazes : 
+
+The Unheard can no one hear ! 
+
+Slip within each blossom-bell, 
+Deeper, deeper, there to dwell, — 
+
+In the rocks, beneath the leaf! 
+
+If it strikes you, you are deaf. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Life’s pulses now with fresher force awaken 
+To greet the mild ethereal twilight o’er me; 
+This night, thou, Earth! hast also stood unshaken, 
+And now thou breathest new-refreshed before me, 
+
+
+6 FAUST, 
+
+
+And now beginnest, all thy gladness granting, 
+
+A vigorous resolution to restore me, 
+
+To seek that highest life for which I ’m panting. — 
+The world unfolded lies in twilight glimmer, 
+
+A thousand voices in the grove are chanting; 
+
+Vale in, vale out, the misty streaks grow dimmer; 
+The deeps with heavenly light are penetrated ; 
+The boughs, refreshed, lift up their leafy shimmer 
+From gulfs of air where sleepily they waited ; 
+Color on color from the background cleareth, 
+Where flower and leaf with trembling pearls are freighted: 
+And all around a Paradise appeareth. 
+
+
+Look up! — The mountain summits, grand, supernal,s 
+Herald, e’en now, the solemn hour that neareth ; 
+They earliest enjoy the light eternal 
+
+That later sinks, till here below we find it. 
+
+Now to the Alpine meadows, sloping vernal, 
+
+A newer beam descends ere we divined it, 
+
+And step by step unto the base hath bounded: 
+
+The sun comes forth! Alas, already blinded, 
+
+I turn away, with eyesight pierced and wounded ! 
+
+
+’T is thus, when, unto yearning hope’s endeavor, 
+Its highest wish on sweet attainment grounded, 
+The portals of fulfilment widely sever : 
+
+But if there burst from those eternal spaces 
+
+A flood of flame, we stand confounded ever ; 
+
+For Life’s pure torch we sought the shining traces, 
+And seas of fire— and what a fire ! — surprise us. 
+Is ’t Love? . Is’t Hate? that burningly embraces, 
+And that with pain and joy alternate tries us? 
+
+So that, our glances once more earthward throwing, 
+We seek in youthful drapery to disguise us. 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT I. 5 
+
+
+Behina me, therefore, let the sun be glowing! 
+
+The cataract, between the crags deep-riven, 
+
+I thus behold with rapture ever-growing. 
+
+From plunge to plunge in thousand streams ’t is given, 
+And yet a thousand, to the valleys shaded, 
+
+While foam and spray in air are whirled and driven. 
+Yet how superb, across the tumult braided, 
+
+The painted rainbow’s changeful life is bending, 
+Now clearly drawn, dissolving now and faded, 
+
+And evermore the showers of dew descending ! 
+
+Of human striving there ’s no symbol fuller : 
+Consider, and ’t is easy comprehending — 
+
+Life is not light, but the refracted color.‘ 
+
+
+
+
+
+3 FAUST. 
+
+
+II. 
+
+
+THE EMPEROR’S CASTLE. 
+HALL OF THE THRONE. 
+
+
+COUNCIL OF STATE AWAITING THE EMPEROR. 
+
+
+Trumpets. 
+
+
+Enter Court RETAINERS of all hinds, splendidly dressed. 
+The EMPEROR advances to the throne: the ASTROLOGER 
+on his right hand. 
+
+
+EMPEROR.’ 
+
+
+GREET you, Well-beloved and Trusty, 
+Assembled here from far and wide! 
+
+I see the Wise Man at my side; 
+
+But where ’s the Fool, his rival lusty ? 
+
+
+SQUIRE. 
+Behind thy mantle’s flowing swell 
+Suddenly on the stairs he fell: 
+They bore away the weight of fat; 
+If dead, or drunk? none knoweth that. 
+
+
+SECOND SQUIRE. 
+As quick as thought, through all the pother 
+Him to replace there came another, 
+Adorned and prinked with wondrous art, 
+Yet so grotesque that all men start. 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT 7. 9 
+
+
+The guards their halberds cross-wise hold 
+To bar him — them he thrusts apart: 
+Lo! here he comes, the Fool so bold! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (dnceling before the throne). 
+
+
+What ’s cursed and welcomely expected ?® 
+What is desired, yet always chased ? 
+What evermore with care protected ? 
+What is accused, condemned, disgraced ? 
+To whom dar’st thou not give a hearing? 
+Whose name hears each man willingly ? 
+What is ’t, before thy throne appearing? 
+What keeps itself away from thee ? 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+Spare us thy words! the time is pressing ; 
+This is no place for riddle-guessing : 
+These gentlemen such things explain. 
+Solve it thyself !— to hear I’m fain. 
+My old Fool went, I fear, an endless distance ; 
+Take thou his place, come here and lend assistance ! 
+
+
+JMEPHISTOPHELES goes up and stations himself on the Em 
+PEROR’S /e/t hand.) 
+
+
+MURMURS OF THE CROWD.9 
+
+
+Another fool — for worries new ! — 
+
+Whence came he ? — how did he get through ? 
+The old one fell — he ’s walked his path. — 
+He was a barrel — this, a lath! 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+So now, my Well-beloved and Loyal, 
+Be welcome all, from near and far ! 
+You meet beneath a fortunate star ; 
+
+
+Welfare and luck are now the aspects royal. 
+1% 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+FA OST. 
+
+
+But tell me why, in days so fair,” 
+
+When we’ve withdrawn ourselves from care, 
+And beards of beauty masquerading wear, — 
+When gay delights for us are waiting, 
+
+Why should we plague ourselves, deliberating ? 
+Yet, since the task you think we cannot shun, 
+"T is settled then, so be it done! 
+
+
+CHANCELLOR. 
+
+
+The highest virtue, like a halo-zone 
+
+Circles the Emperor’s head ; and he alone 
+
+Is worthy validly to exercise it. 
+
+*T is Justice !— all men love and prize it, 
+
+None can forego, but all require and want it: 
+The people look to him, that he should grant it. 
+But, ah! what help can human wit impart, 
+
+Or readiness of hand, or kindly heart, 
+
+When lies the State, as if in fever fretting, 
+
+And brooded Evil evil is begetting ? 
+
+Who looks abroad from off this height supreme 
+Throughout the realm, ’t is like a weary dream, 
+Where one deformity another mouldeth, 
+
+Where lawlessness itself by law upholdeth, 
+And ’t is an age of Error that unfoldeth ! 
+
+
+One plunders flocks, a woman one, 
+
+Cup, cross, and candlestick from altar, 
+And then to boast it does not palter, 
+
+Of limb or life nowise undone. 
+
+To Court behold the plaintiffs urging, 
+Where puffs the judge on cushions warm, 
+And swells, meanwhile, with fury surging, 
+Rebellion’s fast-increasing storm ! 
+
+His easy way through crime is broken, 
+Who his accomplices selects ; 
+
+
+ACT I. I$ 
+
+
+And “Guilty !” hears one only spoken 
+Where Innocence itself protects. 
+
+They all pull down what they should care for, = 
+Destroy their weal, in self-despite : 
+How can the sense develop, therefore, 
+Which, only, leads us to the Right ? 
+At last, the man of good intent 
+
+To flatterer and briber bendeth ; 
+
+The judge, debarred from punishment, 
+Mates with the felon, ere he endeth. 
+
+I ve painted black, but denser screen 
+I’d rather draw before the scene. 
+
+
+( Pause.) 
+
+
+Here measures cannot be evaded ; 
+When all offend, and none are aided, 
+His Majesty a victim stands. 
+
+
+GENERAL-IN-CHIEF. 
+
+
+In these wild days, how discords thicken ! 
+Each strikes and in return is stricken, 
+
+And they are deaf to all commands. 
+
+The burgher in his fortifications, 
+
+The knight upon his rocky nest, 
+
+Have sworn to worry out our patience 
+
+And keep their strength with stubborn crest. 
+The mercenaries, no whit better, 
+Impatiently demand their pay, 
+
+And, if we were not still their debtor, 
+
+They ’d start forthwith and march away. 
+
+Let one forbid what all would practise 
+
+And in a hornet’s nest he stands : 
+
+The realm which they should guard, the facv 1s, 
+7T is devastated by their hands. 
+
+They give the rein to wild disorder, 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+
+
+
+And half the world is wasted now ; 
+There still are kings beyond our border, 
+But none thinks it concerns him anyhow. 
+
+
+TREASURER. 
+
+
+Trust allies, and we soon shall rue us! 
+The subsidies they promised to us — 
+
+Like water in leaky pipes — don’t come. 
+Then, Sire, in all thy states extended 
+
+To whom hath now the rule descended ? 
+Where’er one goes, a new lord is at home, 
+And hopes to live in independence ; 
+
+He takes his course and we look on: 
+
+Such rights we ’ve given to our attendants 
+That all ovr right to anything is gone. 
+
+On parties, too, whate’er the name be, 
+Our trust, to-day, is far from great ; 
+Though loud their praise or fierce their blame be, 
+Indifferent is their love and hate. 
+
+The Ghibellines and Guelfs from labor 
+Are resting — both laid on the shelf. 
+
+Who, therefore, now will help his neighbor? 
+Each has enough, to help himself. 
+
+The gate of gold no more unlatches, 
+
+And each one gathers, digs, and scratches, 
+While our strong-box is void indeed. 
+
+
+LORD HIGH STEWARD. 
+What evil I, as well, am having! 
+We 're always trying to be saving, 
+And ever greater is our need: 
+Thus daily grows this task of mine. 
+The cooks have all they want at present, — 
+Wild-boar and deer, and hare and pheasant, 
+Duck, peacock, turkey, goose, and chicken: 
+
+
+ACT I. 13 
+
+
+These, paid in kind, are certain picking, 
+
+And do not seriously decline; 
+
+Yet, after all, we ’re.short of wine. 
+
+Where casks on casks were once our cellars filling, 
+Rare vintages of flavors finely thrilling, 
+
+The noble lords’ eternal swilling 
+
+Has drained them off, till not a drop appears. 
+The City Council, too, must tap their liquor ; 
+They drink from mug, and jug, and beaker, 
+Till no one longer sees or hears. 
+
+*T is I must pay for all the dances ; 
+
+The Jew will have me, past all chances ; 
+
+His notes of hand and his advances 
+
+Will soon eat up the coming years. 
+
+Before they ’re fat the swine are taken ; 
+Pawned is the pillow, ere one waken, 
+
+The bread is eaten ere the board it sees. 
+
+
+THE EMPEROR 
+(after some reflection, to MEPHISTOPHELES). 
+
+
+Say, Fool, canst thou not add a want to these? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+I? Notatall! I see the circling splendor — 
+Thyself, and thine! Should one his trust surrender, 
+Where Majesty thus unopposed commands, 
+
+Where ready power the hostile force disbands, 
+Where loyal wills, through understanding strong, 
+And mixed activities, around thee throng ? 
+
+What powers for evil could one see combining, — 
+For darkness, where such brilliant stars are shining? 
+
+
+MURMURS. 
+
+
+He is a scamp — who comprehends. — 
+He lies his way — until it ends. — 
+
+
+14 FAUST. 
+
+
+I know it now — what ’s in his mind. — 
+What then ?— A project lurks behind! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Where, in this world, doth not some lack appear? 
+Here this, there that, — but money’s lacking here. 
+True, from the floor you can’t at once collect it, 
+But, deepliest hidden, wisdom may detect it. 
+
+In veins of mountains, under building-bases, 
+Coined and uncoined, there ’s gold in many places: 
+And ask you who shall bring it to the light ? 
+
+A man endowed with Mind’s and Nature’s might. 
+
+
+CHANCELLOR. 
+
+
+Nature and Mind —to Christians we don’t speak sa 
+Thence to burn Atheists we seek so, 
+
+For such discourses very dangerous be. 
+Nature is Sin, and Mind is Devil: 
+
+Doubt they beget in shameless revel, 
+
+Their hybrid in deformity. 
+
+Not so with us ! — Two only races 
+
+Have in the Empire kept their places, 
+
+And prop the throne with worthy weight. 
+The Saints and Knights are they :" together 
+They breast each spell of thunder-weather, 
+And take for pay the Church and State. 
+
+The vulgar minds that breed confusion 
+
+Are met with an opposing hand: 
+
+They ’re wizards !— heretics! Delusion 
+Through them will ruin town and land. 
+
+And these will you, with brazen juggle, 
+Within this high assembly smuggle ? 
+
+For hearts corrupt you scheme and struggle ; 
+The Fool’s near kin are all the band. 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT 1. 15 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+By that, I know the learned lord you are! 
+What you don’t touch, is lying leagues afar ; 
+What you don’t grasp, is wholly lost to you; 
+What you don’t reckon, think you, can’t be true; 
+What you don’t weigh, it has no weight, alas! 
+What you don’t coin, you ’re sure it will not pass. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+Therewith to help our needs you naught determine. 
+What wilt thou, here, with such a Lenten sermon? 
+I ’m tired of the eternal If and How: 
+Money we want: good, then, procure it now! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+I "ll furnish what you wish, and more: ’t is, true, 
+A light task, but light things are hard to do. 
+The gold’s on hand, — yet, skilfully to win it, 
+That is the art: who knows how to begin it ? 
+Consider only, in those days of blood 
+When o’er the Empire poured a human flood, 
+How many men, such deadly terror steeled them, 
+Took their best goods, and here and there concealed 
+them! 
+*T was so beneath the mighty Roman sway, 
+And ever so repeated, till our day. 
+All that was buried in the earth, to save it: 
+The Emperor owns the earth, and he should have it 
+
+
+TREASURER. 
+
+
+Now, for a Fool, his words are rather bright: 
+That is indeed the old Imperial right. 
+
+
+CHANCELLOR. 
+Satan has laid his golden snares, to try us ; 
+Such things as these are neither right nor pious. 
+
+
+16 FAUST. 
+
+
+LORD HIGH STEWARD. 
+Let him but bring his gifts to Court, and share them, 
+And if things were a little wrong, I ’d bear them! 
+
+
+GENERAL-IN-CHIEF. 
+The Fool is shrewd, to promise each his needs ; 
+Whence it may come the soldier never heeds. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+And should you think, perchance, I overreach you, 
+Here ’s the Astrologer — ask him to teach you! 
+The spheres of Hour and House are in his ken: ™ 
+What are the heavenly aspects ? — tell us, then! 
+
+
+MURMURS. 
+Two rogues are they, — in league they ’ve grown, 
+Dreamer and Fool — so near the throne! 
+The song is old— and flatly sung. — 
+The Fool he prompts — the Wise Man’s tongue ! 
+
+
+ASTROLOGER 
+
+
+(speaks : MEPHISTOPHELES prompts). 
+The Sun himself is gold of purest ray ; 
+The herald, Mercury, serves for love and pay ; 
+Dame Venus has bewitched you all, for she, 
+Early and late, looks on you lovingly ; 
+Chaste Luna has her whims, no two alike ; 
+Mars threatens you, although he may not strike, 
+And Jupiter is still the splendid star. 
+Saturn is great, though seeming small and far: 
+As metal, him we don’t much venerate, 
+Of value slight, though heavy in his weight. 
+Now, when of Sol and Luna union’s had, — 
+Silver with gold, — then is the world made glad: 
+All else, with them, is easy to attain, — 
+Palaces, gardens, cheeks of rosy stain ; 
+
+
+ACT 7. 7 
+
+
+And these procures this highly learned man, 
+Who that can do which none of us e’er can. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+
+Two meanings in his words | find, 
+And yet they don’t convince my mind. 
+
+
+MURMURS. 
+
+
+Why tell us that ?— stuff stale and flat! 
+
+*T is quackery! — ’t is chemistry ! 
+
+I ve heard the strain— and hoped in vain, ~ 
+And though it come —’t is all a hum. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+They stand around, amazed, unknowing; 
+They do not trust the treasure-spell ; 
+One dreams of mandrake, nightly growing, 
+The other of the dog of Hell. 
+Why, then, should one suspect bewitching, 
+And why the other jest and prate, 
+When in their feet, they, too, shall feel the itching, 
+When they shall walk with tottering gait ? 
+
+
+All feel the secret operation 
+
+Of Nature’s ever-ruling might, 
+
+And from the bases of Creation 
+
+A living track winds up to light. 
+
+In every limb when something twitches 
+In any place uncanny, old, — 
+
+Decide at once, and dig for riches ! 
+There lies the fiddler, there the gold!" 
+
+
+MURMURS. 
+It hangs like lead my feet about. — 
+I’ve cramp i’ the arm — but that is gout. — 
+B 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+I ve tickling in the greater toe. — 
+
+Down all my back it pains me so. — 
+From signs like these ’t is very clear 
+The richest treasure-ground is here. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+
+Haste, then! Thou ’It not again make off! 
+Test now thy frothy, lying graces, 
+
+And show at once the golden places! 
+
+My sword and sceptre I will doff, 
+
+Mine own imperial hands | ’ll lend thee, 
+
+If thou liest not, therein befriend thee, 
+But, if thou liest, to Hell will send thee! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+I ’d find, in any case, the pathway there ! — 
+Yet I cannot enough declare 
+
+What, ownerless, waits everywhere. 
+
+The farmer, following his share, 
+
+Turns out a gold-crock with the mould : 
+
+He seeks saltpetre where the clay-walls stand,: 
+And findeth rolls of goldenest gold, 
+
+With joyful fright, in his impoverished hand. 
+What vaults there are to be exploded, 
+
+Along what shafts and mines corroded, 
+
+The gold-diviner’s steps are goaded, 
+
+Until the Under-world is nigh ! 
+
+In cellars vast he sees the precious 
+
+Cups, beakers, vases, plates, and dishes, 
+Row after row, resplendent lie: 
+
+Rich goblets, cut from rubies, stand there, 
+And, would he use them, lo! at hand there 
+Is ancient juice of strength divine. 
+
+Yet, trust to him who ’s knowledge gotten, 
+The wood o’ the staves has long been rotten, 
+
+
+ACT JI. 19 
+
+
+A cask of tartar holds the wine.*s 
+
+Not only gold and gems are hiding, 
+
+But of proud wines the heart abiding, 
+
+In terror and in night profound: 
+
+Herein assiduously expiore the wise ; 
+
+It is a farce, by day to recognize, 
+
+But mysteries are with darkness circled round. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+
+See thou to them! What profits the Obscure? 
+Whate’er has value comes to daylight, sure. 
+
+At dead of night who can the rogue betray? 
+
+Then all the cows are black, the cats are gray. 
+
+If pots are down there, full of heavy gold, 
+
+Drive on thy plough and turn them from the mould! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Take hoe and spade thyself, I pray thee, — 
+Thou shalt be great through peasant-toil ! 
+
+A herd of golden calves, to pay thee, 
+
+Will loose their bodies from the soil. 
+
+And then at once canst thou, with rapture, 
+Gems for thyself and for thy mistress capture: 
+Their tints and sparkles heighten the degree 
+Of Beauty as of Majesty. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+Then quick! at once! how Iong will it require? 
+
+
+ASTROLOGER 
+(prompted by MEPHISTOPHELES). 
+Sire, moderate such urgence of desire ! 
+
+
+Let first the gay, the motley pastime end ! 
+Not to the goal doth such distraction tend. 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+FA UST. 
+
+
+First self-command must quiet and assure us ; 
+The upper things the lower will procure us. 
+Who seeks for Good, must first be good; 
+
+Who seeks for joy, must moderate his blood ; 
+Who wine desires, let him the ripe grapes tread; 
+Who miracles, by stronger faith be led! 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+
+Let us the time in merriment efface! 
+And, to our wish, Ash-Wednesday comes apace. 
+Meanwhile, we ’ll surely celebrate withal 
+More jovially the maddening Carnival. 
+[Zrumpets. Hxeunt. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+How closely linked are Luck and Merit, 
+Doth never to these fools occur: 
+
+Had they the Philosopher’s Stone, I swear it, 
+The Stone would lack the Philosopher ! 
+
+
+ACT I. er 
+
+
+III. 
+
+
+SPACIOUS HALL. 
+
+
+WITH ADJOINING APARTMENTS 
+Arranged and Decorated for the Carnival Masquerade.© 
+
+
+HERALD. 
+
+
+HINK not, as in our German bounds, your chance is 
+Of Death’s or Fools’ or Devils’ dances: 
+Here cheerful revels you await. 
+Our Ruler, on his Roman expedition, 
+Hath for his profit, your fruition, 
+Crossed o’er the Alpine high partition, 
+And won himself a gayer State. 
+He to the holy slipper bowed him 
+And first the right of power besought ; 
+Then, as he went to get the Crown allowed him, 
+For us the Fool’s-cap he has also brought. 
+Now are we all new-born, to wear it: 
+Each tactful and experienced man, 
+Drawn cosily o’er head and ears, doth bear it; ° 
+A fool he seems, yet he must share it, 
+And be, thereby, as sober as he can. 
+They crowding come, | see already, 
+Close coupling, or withdrawn unsteady, — 
+The choruses, like youth from school. 
+Come in or out, bring on your ranks! 
+Before or after — ’t is the rule — 
+With all its hundred thousand pranks, 
+The World is one enormous Fool ! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+GARDEN-GIRLS.”’ 
+(Song, accompanied with mandolines.) 
+
+
+That we win your praises tender 
+We are decked in festa] gear; 
+
+At the German Court of splendor, 
+Girls of Florence, we appear. 
+
+
+On our locks of chestnut glosses 
+Wear we many a flowery bell ; 
+Silken threads and silken flosses 
+Here must play their parts, as well. 
+
+
+Our desert, not over-rated, 
+
+Seems to us assured and clear, 
+For by art we ’ve fabricated 
+Flowers that blossom all the year. 
+
+
+Every sort of colored snipping 
+Won its own symmetric right: 
+Though your wit on each be tripping, 
+In the whole you take delight. 
+
+
+We are fair to see and blooming, 
+Garden-girls, and gay of heart; 
+For the natural way of woman 
+Is so near akin to art. 
+
+
+HERALD. 
+
+
+Let us see the wealth of blossoms 
+Basket-crowning heads that bear them, 
+Garlanding your arms and bosoms! 
+Each select, and lightly wear them. 
+Haste ! and bosky arbors dressing, 
+
+Let a garden here enring us! 
+
+Worthy they of closer pressing, 
+Hucksters and the wares they bring us. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT J. 23 
+
+
+GARDEN-GIRLS. 
+
+
+Now in cheerful places chaffer, 
+But no marketing be ours ! 
+Briefly, clearly, let each laugher 
+Know the meaning of his flowers. 
+
+
+OLIVE BRANCH, WITH FRUIT. 
+
+
+Flowery sprays I do not covet; 
+Strife I shun, or branch above it, 
+Foe of conflict I remain. 
+
+Yet am I the marrow of nations, 
+Pledge of happy consummations, 
+Sign of peace on every plain. 
+
+Be, to-day, my lucky fate 
+Worthy head to decorate! 
+
+
+WREATH OF EARS (golden). 
+
+
+You to crown, the gifts of Ceres 
+Here their kindly grace have sent; 
+Unto Use what chiefly dear is 
+
+Be your fairest ornament! 
+
+
+FANCY WREATH. 
+
+
+Gayest blossoms, like to mallows, — 
+From the moss a marvel grew ! 
+Fashion calls to light, and hallows, 
+That which Nature never knew. 
+
+
+FANCY NOSEGAY. 
+
+
+What our name is, Theophrastus ,, 
+Would not dare to say: contrast us! 
+Yet we hope to please you purely, 
+
+If not all, yet many, surely, — 
+
+Such as fain we ’d have possess us, 
+Braiding us in shining tresses, 
+
+
+24 FAUST. 
+
+
+Or, a fairer fate deciding, 
+On the heart find rest abiding. 
+
+
+CHALLENGE. 
+
+
+Motley fancies blossom may 
+
+For the fashion of the day, 
+Whimsical and strangely moulded, 
+Such as Nature ne’er unfolded: 
+Bells of gold and stems of green 
+In the plenteous locks be seen ! — 
+Yet we 
+
+
+ROSEBUDS 
+
+
+lie concealed behind ; 
+Lucky, who shall freshly find! 
+When the summer-time returneth, 
+And the rosebud, bursting, burneth, } 
+Who such blisses would surrender ? | 
+Promise sweet, and yielding tender, | 
+They, in Flora’s realm, control 
+Swiftly eyes and sense and soul. 
+
+
+Under green, leafy arcades, the GARDEN-GIRLS adorn and 
+gracefully exhibit their wares ) 
+
+
+GARDENERS.” 
+(Song, accompanied with theorbos.) 
+
+
+Blossoms there, that sprout in quiet, 
+
+Round your heads their charms are weaving: 
+But the fruits are not deceiving, 
+
+One may try the mellow diet. 
+
+
+Sunburnt faces tempt with glowing 
+Cherries, peaches, plums, your vision : 
+Buy! for vain the eye’s decision 
+
+To the tongue’s and palate’s showing. 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT J. 25 
+
+
+Ripest fruit from sunniest closes 
+
+' Eat, with taste and pleasure smitten ! 
+Poems one may write on roses, 
+But the apple must be bitten. 
+
+
+Then permit that we be mated 
+With your youth, so flowery-fair : 
+Thus is also decorated, 
+Neighbor-like, our riper ware. 
+
+
+Under wreaths of flowery tether, 
+
+As the leafy arbors suit, 
+
+All may then be found together, 
+
+Buds and leaves, and flower and fruit! 
+
+
+[With alternating songs, accompanied with mandolines and 
+theorbos, both Choruses continue to set forth their wares upon 
+steps rising aloft, and to offer them to the spectators.) 
+
+
+MOTHER AND DAUGHTER.” 
+
+
+MOTHER. 
+
+
+Maiden, when thou cam’st to light, 
+Tiny caps I wrought thee; 
+
+Body tender, soft, and white, 
+Lovely face I brought thee. 
+
+As a bride I thought thee, led 
+
+To the richest, wooed and wed, 
+As a wife I thought thee. 
+
+
+Ah! already many a year, 
+
+Profitless, is over: 
+
+None of all the wooers here 
+
+Now around thee hover; 
+
+Though with one wast wont to dance, 
+VOL. II. 2 
+
+
+26 FAUST, 
+
+
+Gav’st another nudge and glance, — 
+Hast not found thy lover! 
+
+
+
+
+
+I to feast and revel thee 
+
+Vainly took, to match one: 
+
+Pawns, and hindmost man of three, 
+Would not help thee snatch one. 
+Every fool now wears his cap: 
+Sweetheart, open thou thy lap! 
+Still, perchance, mayst catch one ! 
+
+
+
+
+
+[Other maiden-playmates, young and beautiful, join the garden- 
+girls: the sound of familiar gossip ts heard. Fishers and 
+bird-catchers, with nests, fisking-rods, limed twigs, and other 
+implements, appear, and disperse themselves among the 
+maidens. Reciprocal attempts to win, to catch, to escape, and 
+
+
+to hold fast, give opportunity for the most agreeable dialogues.} 
+
+
+WOOD-CUTTERS.” 
+(Enter, boisterously and boorishly.) 
+
+Room ! make a clearing ! 
+Room in your revel! 
+The trees we level 
+That tumble cracking : 
+Where we ’re appearing 
+Look out for whacking. 
+Our praise adjudging, 
+Make clear this fable ! 
+Save Coarse were drudging 
+Within your borders, 
+Would Fine be able 
+To build their orders, 
+Howe’er they fretted ? 
+Be taught in season, 
+For you ’d be freezing 
+Had we not sweated ! 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+
+
+PULCINELLI 
+(uncouth, almost idiotic) 
+
+
+You, Fools, are trooping, 
+Since birth so stooping ; 
+The wise ones we are, 
+From burdens freer. 
+Our caps, though sleazy, 
+And jackets breezy 
+
+To wear are easy: 
+
+It gives us pleasure 
+
+To go with leisure, 
+
+With slippered shuffles 
+Through market-scuffles, 
+To gape at the pother, 
+Croak at each other! 
+Through crowded places 
+You always trace us, 
+Eel-like gliding, 
+Skipping and hiding, 
+Storming together : 
+Moreover, whether 
+
+You praise — reprove us, 
+It does n’t move us. 
+
+
+PARASITES (/awningly-lustful). 
+
+
+Ye woodland bandsmen, 
+And they, your clansmen, 
+The charcoal-burners, 
+
+To you we turn us: 
+
+For all such plodding, 
+Affirmative nodding, 
+Tortuous phrases, 
+Blowing both ways — is 
+Warming or chilling, 
+
+
+27 
+
+
+28 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Just as you ’re feeling: 
+What profit from it? 
+There might fall fire, 
+Enormous, dire, 
+
+From heaven’s summit, 
+Were there not billets 
+And coal in wagons, 
+
+To boil your skillets 
+And warm your flagons. 
+It roasts and frizzles ; 
+It boils and sizzles ! 
+The taster and picker, 
+The platter-licker, 
+
+He sniffs the roasting, 
+Suspects the fishes, 
+And clears, with boasting, 
+His patron’s dishes. 
+
+
+DRUNKEN MAN?3 (unconsciously). 
+
+
+Naught, to-day, bring melancholy ! 
+Since I feel so frank and free : 
+
+Fresh delight and songs so jolly, 
+
+And I brought them both with me! 
+Thus I ’m drinking, drinking, drinking? 
+Clink your glasses, clinking, clinking ! 
+You behind there, join the rout! 
+
+Clink them stout, and then it’s out! 
+
+
+Though my wife assailed me loudly, 
+Rumpled me through thin and thick; 
+And, howe’er I swaggered proudly, 
+Called me “ masquerading stick ”: 
+
+Yet I’m drinking, drinking, drinking ! 
+Clink your glasses! clinking, clinking ! 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT I. 29 
+
+
+Masking sticks, another bout! - 
+When you ’ve clinked them, drink them out} 
+
+
+Say not mine a silly boast is! 
+
+I am here in clover laid: 
+
+Trusts the host not, trusts the hostess, — 
+She refusing, trusts the maid. 
+
+Still I’m drinking, drinking, drinking! 
+Come, ye others, clinking, clinking! 
+Each to each! keep up the rout! 
+
+We, I’m thinking, drink them out. 
+
+
+How and where my fun I ’m spying, 
+Let me have it as I planned ! 
+
+Let me lie where I am lying, 
+
+For I cannot longer stand. 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+Every chum be drinking, drinking! 
+Toast afresh, with clinking, clinking! 
+Bravely keep your seats, and shout! 
+Under the table Ae ’s drunk out. 
+
+
+[74e HERALD announces various Poets*%4+— Poets of Nature, 
+Courtly and Knightly Minstrels, Sentimentaltsts as well as 
+Enthusiasts. In the crowd of competitors of all kinds, no 
+one allows another to commence his declamation. One slips 
+past with a few words :] 
+
+
+SATIRIST. 
+
+
+Know ye what myself, the Poet, 
+Would the most rejoice and cheer? 
+If I dared to sing, and utter, 
+
+That which no one wants to hear. 
+
+
+39 - FAUST. 
+
+
+[The Night and Churchyard Poets excuse themselves, because 
+they have just become engaged in a most interesting conversa- 
+tion with a newly-arisen vampire, and therefrom a new 
+school of poctry may possibly be developed. The HERALD és 
+obliged to accept their excuses, and meanwhile calls forth the 
+Grecian Mythology, which, even in modern masks, loses 
+neither sts character nor its power to charm.] 
+
+
+THE GRACES.’5 
+
+
+AGLAIA. 
+Life we bless with graces living ; 
+So be graceful in your giving ! 
+
+
+HEGEMONE. 
+
+
+Graceful be in your receival ; 
+Wish attained is sweet retrieval. 
+
+
+EUPHROSYNE. 
+
+
+And in days serene and spacious, 
+In your thanks be chiefly gracious! 
+
+
+THE Parcz.*% 
+
+
+ATROPOS. 
+
+
+I, the eldest, to the spinning 
+
+Have received the invitation ; 
+
+When the thread of Life’s beginning 
+There is need of meditation. 
+
+
+Finest flax I winnow featly 
+
+That your thread be softly given ; 
+Draw it through my fingers neatly, 
+Make it thin, and smooth, and even. 
+
+
+If too wanton your endeavor, 
+Grasping here of joy each token, 
+
+
+ACT 7. 31 
+
+
+Think, the thread won’t stretch forever! 
+Have a care! it might be broken. 
+
+
+CLOTHO. 
+
+
+Know that, given to me for wearing, 
+Lately were the shears supplied ; 
+Since men were not by the bearing 
+Of our eldest edified. 
+
+
+Useless webs she long untangled, 
+Dragging them to air and light; 
+Dreams of fortune, hope-bespangled, 
+Clipped and buried out of sight. 
+
+
+Also I, in ignorance idle, 
+
+Made mistakes in younger years, 
+But to-day, myself to bridle, 
+
+In their sheath I stick the shears. 
+
+
+Thus restrained in proper measure, 
+Favor I this cheerful place: 
+
+You these hours of liberal pleasure 
+Use at will, and run your race! 
+
+
+LACHESIS. 
+In my hands, the only skilful, 
+Was the ordered twisting placed; 
+Active are my ways, not wilful, 
+Erring not through over-haste. 
+
+
+Threads are coming, threads are reeling; 
+In its course I each restrain: 
+
+None, from off the circle wheeling, 
+
+Fails to fit within the skein. 
+
+
+32 FAUST. 
+
+
+If I once regardless gadded, 
+
+For the world my hopes were vain: 
+Hours are counted, years are added, 
+And the weaver takes the chain. 
+
+
+HERALD. 
+
+
+You would not recognize who now appear, 
+
+Though ne’er so learned you were in ancient writing ; 
+To look at them, in evil so delighting, 
+
+You ’d call them worthy guests, and welcome here. 
+
+
+They are THE FURIES,” no one will believe us, — 
+Fair, well-proportioned, friendly, young in years : 
+
+But make acquaintance, and straightway appears 
+How snake-like are such doves to wound, deceive us. 
+
+
+Though they are spiteful, yet on this occasion, 
+When every fool exults in all his blame, 
+
+They also do not crave angelic fame, 
+
+But own themselves the torments of the nation. 
+
+
+ALECTO. 
+
+
+What good of that, for you will trust us still! — 
+Each of us young and fair, a wheedling kitten. 
+Hath one of you a girl with whom he ’s smitten, 
+We'll rub and softly stroke his ears, until 
+
+
+*T is safe to tell him, spite of all his loathing, 
+That she has also this and the other flame, — 
+
+A blockhead he, or humpbacked, squint and lame, 
+And if betrothed to him, she’s good-for-nothing ! 
+
+
+We're skilled, as well, the bride to vex and sever: 
+Why scarce a week ago, her very lover 
+
+
+ACT J. 33 
+
+
+Contemptuous things fo ker was saying of her! 
+Though they make up, there’s something rankles ever. 
+
+
+MEGZERA. 
+
+
+That ’s a mere jest! For, let them once be married, 
+I go to work, and can, in every case, 
+
+The fairest bliss by wilful whims displace. 
+
+Man has his various moods, the hours are varied, 
+
+
+And, holding the Desired that once did charm him, 
+Each for the More-desired, a yearning fool, 
+
+Leaves the best fortune, use has rendered cool: 
+He flies the sun, and seeks the frost to warm him. 
+
+
+Of ills for all I understand the brewing, 
+And here Asmodi as my follower lead,* 
+To scatter mischief at the proper need, 
+And send the human race, in pairs, to ruin. 
+
+
+TISIPHONE. 
+
+
+Steel and poison J, not malice, 
+Mix and sharpen for the traitor : 
+Lov’st thou others, soon or later, 
+Ruin pours for thee the chalice. 
+
+
+Through the moment’s sweet libation 
+See the gall and wormwood stealing ! 
+Here no bargaining, no dealing ! 
+Like the act and retaliation. 
+
+
+No one babble of forgiving ! - 
+To the rocks I cry: Revenge / is 
+Echo’s answer: he who changes 
+Shall be missed among the living. 
+2* c 
+
+
+
+
+
+34 FAUST. 
+
+
+HERALD. 
+
+
+Do me the favor, now, to stand aside, 
+
+For that which comes is not to you allied. 
+
+You see a mountain pressing through the throng,” 
+The flanks with brilliant housings grandly hung, 
+A head with tusks, a snaky trunk below, — 
+
+A mystery, yet I the key will show. 
+
+A delicate woman sits upon his neck, 
+
+And with a wand persuades him to her beck; 
+The other, throned aloft, superb to see, 
+
+Stands in a glory, dazzling, blinding me. 
+
+Beside him walk two dames in chains ; one fearful 
+And sore depressed, the other glad and cheerful. 
+One longs for freedom and one feels she ’s free: 
+Let each declare us who she be! 
+
+
+FEAR. 
+
+
+Smoky torches, lamps are gleaming 
+Through the festal’s wildering train ; 
+Ah ! amid these faces scheming 
+
+I am fastened by my chain. 
+
+
+Off, ridiculously merry ! 
+
+I mistrust your grinning spite : 
+Each relentless adversary 
+Presses nearer in the night. 
+
+
+Friend would here as foe waylay me, 
+But I know the masking shapes ; 
+Yonder ’s one that wished to slay me, — 
+Now, discovered, he escapes. 
+
+
+From the world I fain would wander 
+Through whatever gate I find ; 
+But perdition threatens yonder, 
+And the horror holds my mind. 
+
+
+ACT 1. 35 
+
+
+HOPE. 
+
+
+Good my sisters, I salute you! 
+Though to-day already suit you, 
+Masquerading thus demurely, 
+
+Yet I know your purpose surely 
+
+To reveal yourselves to-morrow. 
+And if we, by torches lighted, 
+
+Fail to feel a special pleasure, 
+
+Yet in days of cheerful leisure, 
+
+At our will, delight we ’ll borrow, 
+Or alone or disunited 
+
+Free through fairest pastures ranging, 
+Rest and action interchanging, 
+
+And in life no cares that fetter 
+
+' Naught forego, but strive for better. 
+Welcome guests are all around us, 
+Let us mingle with the rest ! 
+Surely, what is best hath found us, 
+Or we ’ll somewhere find the best. 
+
+
+PRUDENCE. 
+
+
+Two of human foes, the greatest, 
+Fear and Hope, I bind the faster, 
+Thus to save you at the latest: 
+Clear the way for me, their master. 
+
+
+I conduct the live colossus, 
+Turret-crowned with weighty masses 5 
+And unweariedly he crosses, 
+
+Step by step, the steepest passes. 
+
+
+But a:oft the goddess planted, 
+With her broad and ready pinions, 
+Turns to spy where gain is granted 
+Everywhere in Man’s dominions. 
+
+
+
+
+
+36 
+
+
+FA OST. 
+
+
+Round her all is bright and glorious; 
+Splendor streams on all her courses : 
+Victory is she — the victorious 
+Goddess of all active forces. 
+
+
+ZOILO-THERSITES.” 
+
+
+Ho! ho! I’ve hit the time of day. 
+You ’re all together bad, I say! 
+
+But what appeared my goal to me 
+
+Is she up there, Dame Victory. 
+
+She, with her snowy wings spread out, 
+Thinks she ’s an eagle, past a doubt; 
+And, wheresoever she may stir, 
+
+That land and folk belong to her ; 
+
+But when a famous thing is done 
+
+I straightway put my harness on, 
+
+To lift the low, the high upset, 
+
+The bent to straighten, bend the straight, — 
+That, only, gives my heart a glow, 
+And on this earth I ’ll have it so. 
+
+
+HERALD. 
+
+
+Then take, thou beggar-cur, the blow, 
+This magic baton’s stroke of skill! — 
+So, twist and wriggle at thy will! 
+
+See how the double dwarfish ape 
+Rolls to a hideous ball in shape ! — 
+A marvel! ’T is an egg we view; 
+
+It puffs itself and cracks in two: 
+
+A pair of twins come forth to day, 
+The Adder and the Bat are they. 
+Forth in the dust one winds and creeps; 
+One darkly round the ceiling sweeps. 
+They haste to join in company : 
+
+The third therein I would not be! 
+
+
+ACT J. 37 
+
+
+MURMURS. 
+
+
+Come! the dance is yonder gay. — 
+No! I would I were away. — 
+Feel’st thou how the phantom race 
+Flits about us in this place ? — 
+Something whizzes past my hair. — 
+Round my feet I saw it fare. — 
+None of us are injured, though. — 
+But we all are frightened so. — 
+Wholly spoiled is now the fun. — 
+Which the vermin wanted done. 
+
+
+HERALD. 
+Since, as Herald, I am aiding 
+At your merry masquerading, 
+At the gate I ’m watching, fearful 
+Lest within your revels cheerful 
+Something slips of evil savor ; 
+And I neither shrink nor waver. 
+Yet, I fear, the airy spectres 
+Enter, baffling all detectors, 
+And from goblins that deceive you 
+I ’m unable to relieve you. 
+First, the dwarf became suspicious ; 
+Now a mightier pageant issues 
+Yonder, and it is my duty 
+To explain those forms of beauty: 
+But the thing I comprehend not, 
+How can I its meaning mention? 
+Help me to its comprehension ! 
+Through the crowd you see it wend not? 
+Lo! a four-horse chariot wondrous, 
+Hither drawn, the tumult sunders ; 
+Yet the crowd seems not to share in ’t — 
+Nowhere is a crush apparent. 
+
+
+
+
+
+38 
+
+
+FAOST. 
+
+
+Colored lights, in distance dimmer, 
+Motley stars around it shimmer; 
+Magic lantern-like they glimmer. 
+On it storms, as to assault. 
+
+Clear the way! I shudder! 
+
+
+BOY CHARIOTEER. 
+
+
+Halt! 
+Steeds, restrain the eager pinion, 
+Own the bridle’s old dominion, 
+Check yourselves, as I desire you, 
+Sweep away, when I inspire you! — 
+Honor we these festal spaces! 
+See, the fast increasing faces, 
+Circles, full of admiration ! 
+Herald, come! and in thy fashion, 
+Ere we take from here our glories, 
+Name us, and describe and show us! 
+For we ’re naught but allegories, 
+Therefore ’t is thy place to know us, 
+
+
+HERALD. 
+
+
+No, thy name from me is hidden, — 
+Could describe thee, were I bidden. 
+
+
+BOY CHARIOTEER. 
+
+
+Try it! 
+HERALD. 
+Granted, at the start, 
+Young and beautiful thou art, — 
+
+
+A half-grown boy ; and yet the woman-nature 
+Would rather see thee in completed stature. 
+To me thou seem’st a future fickle wooer, 
+Changing the old betrayed love for a newer. 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT 7. 39 
+
+
+BOY CHARIOTEER. 
+
+
+Go on! So far, ’t is very fine: 
+Make the enigma’s gay solution thine ! 
+
+
+HERALD. 
+
+
+Black lightning of the eyes, the dark locks glowing,® 
+Yet bright with jewelled anadem, 
+
+And light thy robe as flower on stem, 
+
+From shoulder unto buskin flowing 
+
+With tinsel-braid and purple hem! 
+
+One for a maiden might surmise thee, 
+
+Yet, good or ill, as it might be, 
+
+The maids, e’en now, would take and prize thee: 
+They ’d teach thee soon thy A B C. 
+
+
+BOY CHARIOTEER. 
+
+
+And he, who like a splendid vision, 
+Sits proudly on the chariot’s throne? 
+
+
+HERALD. 
+
+
+He seems a king, of mien Elysian ; 
+Blest those, who may his favor own! 
+
+No more has he to earn or capture ; 
+
+His glance detects where aught ’s amiss, 
+And to bestow his perfect rapture 
+
+Is more than ownership and bliss. 
+
+
+BOY CHARIOTEER. 
+
+
+Thou darest not at this point desist: 
+Describe him fully, I insist! 
+
+
+HERALD. 
+But undescribed is Dignity. 
+The healthy, full-moon face I see, 
+The ample mouth, the cheeks that fresher 
+Shine out beneath his turban’s pressure, 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+FAUOST. 
+
+
+Rich comfort in the robe he ’s wearing, — 
+What shall I say of such a bearing? 
+He seems, as ruler, known to me. 
+
+
+BOY CHARIOTEER. 
+Plutus, the God of Wealth, is he. 
+He hither comes in proud attire; 
+Much doth the Emperor him desire. 
+
+
+HERALD. 
+Of thee the WAat and How declare to me! 
+
+
+BOY CHARIOTEER. 
+
+
+I am Profusion, I am Poesy.# 
+
+The Poet I, whose perfect crown is sent 
+When he his own best goods hath freely spent. 
+Yet, rich in mine unmeasured pelf, 
+
+Like Plutus I esteem myself: 
+
+I prank and cheer his festal show 
+
+And whatsoe’er he lacks bestow. 
+
+
+HERALD. 
+
+
+Fresh charm to thee thy brag imparts, 
+But let us now behold thine arts! 
+
+
+BOY CHARIOTEER. 
+Just see me fillip with my fingers! 
+What brilliance round the chariot lingers, 
+And there a string of pearls appears ! 
+
+
+\continuing to fillip and snap his fingers in all directions :) 
+
+
+Take golden spangles for neck and ears, 
+Combs, and diadems free of flaw, 
+
+And jewelled rings as ne’er ye saw! 
+
+I also scatter flamelets bright, 
+
+Awaiting where they may ignite. 
+
+
+ACT I. 41 
+
+
+HERALD. 
+
+
+How strives the crowd with eager longing, 
+Almost upon the giver thronging! 
+
+As in a dream he snaps the toys; 
+
+All catch and snatch with crush and noise. 
+But now new tricks have I detected: 
+What each has zealously collected 
+
+His trouble doth but poorly pay ; 
+
+The gifts take wings and fly away. 
+
+The pearls are loosened from their band 
+And beetles crawl within his hand; 
+
+He shakes them off, and then instead, 
+Poor dolt, they hum around his head! 
+The others find their solid things 
+
+Are butterflies with gaudy wings. 
+
+How much the scamp to promise seems, 
+And only gives what golden gleams !3 
+
+
+BOY CHARIOTEER. 
+
+
+Masks to announce, I grant, thou ’rt worthy ; 
+
+But ’neath the shell of Being to bestir thee 
+
+Is not a herald’s courtly task: 
+
+A sharper sight for that we ask. 
+
+Yet every quarrel I evade; 
+
+To thee, my Chief, be speech and question made! 
+
+
+( Zurning to PLUTUS.) 
+
+
+Didst thou not unto me confide 
+
+The tempest of the steeds I guide? 
+
+Canst thou not on my guidance reckon? 
+Am I not there, where thou dost beckon? 
+And have I not, on pinions boldest, 
+Conquered for thee the palm thou holdest? 
+When in thy battles I have aided, 
+
+I ever have been fortunate ; 
+
+
+42 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Thy brow when laurels decorate, 
+Have I not them with hand and fancy braided ?™ 
+
+
+PLUTUS. 
+If there be need that I bear witness now, 
+I ’m glad to say: soul of my soul art thou! 
+Thine acts are always to my mind, 
+And thou the richer art, I find. 
+Thy service to reward, I hold 
+The green bough higher than my crowns of gold. 
+To all a true word spoken be: 
+Dear Son, I much delight in thee. 
+
+
+BOY CHARIOTEER (to the Crowd). 
+The greatest gifts my hand flings out, 
+See! I have scattered round about. 
+On divers heads there glows the tongue 
+Of flame which I upon them flung, — 
+Leaps back and forth among the shapes, 
+On this remains, from that escapes, 
+But very seldom upward streams 
+In transient flush of mellow beams; 
+And unto many, ere they mark, 
+It is extinct and leaves them dark. 
+
+
+CHATTER OF WOMEN. 
+Upon the chariot that man 
+Is certainly a charlatan: 
+There, perched behind, the clown is seen, 
+From thirst and hunger grown so lean 
+As one ne’er saw him; if you ’d pinch, 
+He has n’t flesh to feel and flinch. 
+
+
+THE STARVELING. 
+Disgusting women, off! I know 
+That when I come, you ’d have me go. 
+
+
+ACT 7. 43 
+
+
+When woman fed her own hearth-flame, 
+Then Avaritia was my name ;35 
+
+Then throve the household fresh and green, 
+For naught went out and much came in. 
+To chest and press I gave good heed, 
+
+And that you ’d call a vice, indeed ! 
+
+But since in later years, the fact is, 
+Economy the wife won’t practise, 
+
+And, like the host of spendthrift scholars, 
+Has more desires than she has dollars, 
+The husband much discomfort brooks, 
+
+For there are debts where’er he looks. 
+
+She spends what spoil she may recover 
+Upon her body, or her lover; 
+
+In luxury eats, and to excess 
+
+Drinks with the flirts that round her press ; 
+For me that raises money’s price: 
+
+Male is my gender, Avarice ! 
+
+
+LEADER OF THE WOMEN. 
+With dragons, mean may be the dragon; 
+It’s all, at best, but lying stuff! 
+He comes, the men to spur and egg on, 
+And now they ’re troublesome enough. 
+
+
+CROWD OF WOMEN. 
+The scarecrow! Knock him from the wagon! 
+What means the fag, to threaten here? 
+As if his ugly face we ’d fear! 
+Of wood and pasteboard is each dragon: 
+Come on — his words shall cost him dear! 
+
+
+HERALD. 
+
+
+Now, by my wand! Be still — let none stir! 
+Yet for my help there ’s scarcely need ; 
+
+
+
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+See how each grim and grisly monster, 
+Clearing the space around with speed, 
+Unfolds his fourfold wings of dread! 
+The dragons shake themselves in anger, 
+With flaming throats, and scaly clangor ; 
+The place is clear, the crowd has fled. 
+
+
+(PLUTUS descends from the chariot.) 
+
+
+HERALD. 
+
+
+How kingly comes he from above! 
+He beckons, and the dragons move; 
+Then from the chariot bring the chest 
+With gold, and Avarice thereon. 
+
+See, at his feet the load they rest ! 
+
+A marvel ’t is, how it was done. 
+
+
+PLUTUS (to the CHARIOTEER). 
+
+
+Now thou hast left the onerous burden here, 
+Thou ’rt wholly free: away to thine own sphere! 
+Here it is not! Confused and wild, to-day, 
+Distorted pictures press around our way. 
+
+Where clear thy gaze in sweet serenity, 
+
+Owning thyself, confiding but in thee, 
+
+Thither, where Good and Beauty are unfurled, 
+To Solitude !— and there create thy world! 
+
+
+BOY CHARIOTEER. 
+
+
+Thus, as an envoy, am I worthy of thee; 
+Thus, as my next of kindred, do I love thee. 
+Where thou art, is abundance; where I go 
+Each sees a splendid profit round him grow. 
+In inconsistent life each often wavers, 
+Whether to seek from thee, or me, the favors. 
+Thy followers may be indolent. ’t is true; 
+Who follows me, has always work to do. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT 1. 45 
+
+
+y My deeds are never secret and concealed ; 
+I only breathe, and I ’m at once revealed. } 
+Farewell, then! Thou the bliss hast granted me; 
+But whisper low, and I return to thee! 
+[Zxit, as he came. 
+
+
+PLUTUS. 
+
+
+*T is time, now, to unchain the precious metals ! 
+The padlocks with the herald’s wand I smite: 
+
+The chest is opened: look! from iron kettles 
+
+It pours like golden blood before your sight. 
+
+It hoils, and threatens to devour, as fuel, 
+
+Melting them, crown and ring and chain and jewel! 
+
+
+ALTERNATE CRIES OF THE CROWD. 
+
+
+See here, and there! they boil and swim; 
+The chest is filling to the brim ! — 
+Vessels of gold are burning there, 
+
+And minted rolls are turning there, 
+And dlucats jingle as they jump! — 
+
+O, how my heart begins to thump! — 
+All my desire I see, and more. 
+
+They ’re rolling now along the floor. — 
+*T is offered you: don’t be a dunce, 
+Stoop only, and be rich at once !— 
+Then, quick as lightning we, the rest, 
+Will take possession of the chest. 
+
+
+HERALD. 
+
+
+What ails ye, fools? What mean ye all? 
+*T is but a joke of Carnival. 
+
+To-night be your desires controlled; 
+Think you we ’d give you goods and gold? 
+Why, in this game there come to view 
+Too many counters even, for you. 
+
+
+46 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+A pleasant cheat, ye dolts! forsooth 
+You take at once for naked truth. 
+What’s truth to you? Illusion bare 
+Surrounds and rules you everywhere. 
+Thou Plutus-mask, Chief unrevealed, 
+Drive thou this people from the field! * 
+
+
+PLUTUS. 
+Thy wand thereto is fit and free; 
+Lend it a little while to me! 
+I dip it in the fiery brew, — 
+Look out, ye maskers ! all of you. 
+It shines, and snaps, and sparkles throws ; 
+The burning wand already glows. 
+Who crowdeth on, too near to me, 
+Is burned and scorched relentlessly. — 
+And now my circuit | ’ll commence. 
+
+
+CRIES AND CROWDING. 
+Woe’s me! We’re lost — there ’s no defence !~~ 
+Let each one fly, if fly he can ! — 
+Back! clear the way, you hindmost man! — 
+It sparkles fiercely in mine eyes. — 
+The burning wand upon me lies. — 
+We all are lost, we all are lost ! — 
+Back, back! ye maskers, jammed and tossed ! — 
+Back, senseless crowd, away from there ! — 
+O, had I wings, I ’d take the air. 
+
+
+PLUTUS. 
+Now is the circle crowded back, 
+And none, I think, scorched very black. 
+The throng retires, 
+Scared by the fires. 
+As guaranty for ordered law, 
+A ring invisible I draw. 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT J. 47 
+
+
+HERALD. 
+
+
+A nobie work is thine, to-night : 
+I thank thy wisdom and thy might. 
+
+
+PLUTUS. 
+
+
+Preserve thy patience, noble friend, 
+For many tumults yet impend. 
+
+
+AVARICE, 
+
+
+Thus, if one pleases, pleasantly 
+
+May one survey this circle stately ; 
+
+For, ever foremost, crowd the women greatly, 
+If aught to stare at, or to taste, there be. 
+Not yet entirely rusty are my senses! 
+
+A woman fair is always fair to me: 
+
+And since, to-day, it makes me no expenses, 
+We 'll go a courting confidently. 
+
+But in a place so populate 
+
+All words to every ear don’t penetrate ; 
+
+So, wisely I attempt, and hope success, 
+Myself by pantomime distinctly to express. 
+Hand, foot, and gesture will not quite suffice, 
+So I employ a jocular device. 
+
+Like clay will I the gold manipulate ; 
+
+One may transform it into any state. 
+
+
+HERALD. 
+
+
+What will the lean fool do ?37_ Has he, 
+So dry a starveling, humor? See, 
+
+He kneads the gold as it were dough ! 
+Beneath his hands ’t is soft; yet, though 
+He roll and squeeze it, for his pains 
+Disfigured still the stuff remains. 
+
+He turns to the women there, and they 
+All scream, and try to get away, 
+
+
+With gestures of disgust and loathing: 
+The ready rascal stops at nothing. 
+
+I fear he takes delight to see 
+
+He has offended decency. 
+
+J dare not silently endure it: 
+
+Give me my wand, that I may cure it! 
+
+
+PLUTUS. 
+The danger from without he does not see: 
+Let him alone; his Fool’s-hour fast is waning. 
+There ’ll be no space for his mad pranks remaining; 
+Mighty is Law, mightier Necessity. 
+
+
+TUMULT AND SONG. 
+The savage hosts, with shout and hail, 
+From mountain-height and forest-vale 
+Come, irresistibly as Fate: 
+Their mighty Pan they celebrate. 
+They know, forsooth, what none can guess, 
+And in the empty circle press. 
+
+
+PLUTUS. 
+
+
+I know you well, and your illustrious Pan! 
+Boldly together you ’ve performed your plan. 
+Full well I know what every one does not, 
+And clear for you, as duty bids, the spot. 
+
+Be Fortune still her favor lending! 
+
+The strangest things may here be bred: 
+They know not whitherward they ’re wending, 
+Because they have not looked ahead.¥* 
+
+
+SAVAGE SONG. 
+Furbished people, tinsel-stuff ! 
+They ’re coming rude, they ’re coming rough; 
+In mighty leap, in wildest race, 
+Coarse and strong they take their place. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT TI. 4G 
+
+
+FAUNS. 
+Fauns, pair on pair, 
+Come dancing down, 
+With oaken crown 
+On crispy hair; 
+The fine and pointed ear is seen, 
+Leaf-like, the clustering curls between: 
+A stubby nose, face broad and fiat, 
+The women don’t object to that; 
+For when his paw holds forth the Faun, 
+The fairest to the dance is drawn. 
+
+
+SATYR. 
+
+
+See now, behind, the Satyr skip, 
+With foot of goat, lean leg and hip, — 
+Lean and sinewy must they be: 
+
+For, chamois-like, on mountains he 
+Loveth to stand or scamper free. 
+Then, strong in freedom of the skies, 
+Child, wife, and man doth he despise, 
+Who, deep in the valley’s smoke and steam 
+That they live also, snugly dream ; 
+While, pure and undisturbed, alone 
+The upper world is all his own. 
+
+
+GNOMES.” 
+
+
+The little crowd comes tripping there ; 
+
+They don’t associate pair by pair. 
+
+In mossy garb, with lantern bright, 
+
+They move commingling, brisk and light, 
+
+Each working on his separate ground, 
+
+Like firefly-emmets swarming round; 
+
+And press and gather here and there, 
+
+Always industrious everywhere. 
+
+With the “Good People” kin we own; 
+VOL. II. 3 D 
+
+
+go 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+As surgeons of the rocks we ’re known. 
+Cupping the mountains, bleeding them 
+
+From fullest veins, depleting them 
+
+Of store of metals, which we pile, 
+
+And merrily greet: “Good cheer!” the while 
+Well-meant the words, believe us, then! 
+
+We are the friends of all good men. 
+
+Yet we the stores of gold unseal 
+
+That men may pander, pimp, and steal; 
+
+Nor iron shall fail his haughty hand 
+
+Who universal murder planned : 
+
+And who these three Commandments breaks 
+But little heed o’ the others takes. 
+
+For that we ’re not responsible : 
+
+We ’re patient — be you, too, as well! 
+
+
+GIANTS. 
+
+
+The wild men of the woods they ’re named, 
+And in the Hartz are known and famed ; 
+In naked nature’s ancient might 
+
+They come, each one a giant wight, 
+
+With fir-tree trunk in brawny hand, 
+Around the loins a puffy band, 
+
+The merest apron of leaf and bough : — 
+The Pope hath no such guards, I trow. 
+
+
+NYMPHS IN CHORUS. 
+( They surround the great PAN.) 
+
+
+He comes! We scan 
+
+The world’s great All, 
+
+Whose part doth fall 
+
+To mighty Pan. 
+
+Ye gayest ones, advance to him, 
+
+Your maddest measures dance to him! 
+Since serious and kind is he, 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT 7. 51 
+
+
+He wills that we should joyous be. 
+Under the blue, o’er-vaulting roof, 
+Ever he seemeth slumber-proof ; 
+
+Yet murmurs of the brooks he knows, 
+And soft airs lull him to repose. 
+
+At midday sleeping, o’er his brow 
+The leaf is moveless on the bough: 
+
+Of healthy buds tne balsam there 
+Pervades the still, suspended air: 
+
+The nymph no longer dares to leap, 
+And where she stands, she falls asleep, 
+But when, all unexpected, he 
+
+Maketh his voice heard terribly, 
+
+Like rattling thunder, roar of wave, 
+Then each one seeks himself to save; 
+The serried ranks disperse in fright, 
+The hero trembles in the fight. 
+
+Then honor to whom the honor is due, 
+And hail to him who led us to you! 
+
+
+DEPUTATION OF GNOMES 
+(to the great PAN). 
+When the rich possession, shining 
+Through the rocks in thread and vein, 
+To the skilful wand’s divining 
+Shows its labyrinthine chain, 
+
+
+We in vaults and caverns spacious, 
+Troglodytes, contented bide ; 
+While in purest daylight, gracious, 
+Thou the treasures dost divide. 
+
+
+Now we see, wilt thou believe us, 
+Here a wondrous fountain run, 
+Promising with ease to give us 
+What was hardly to be won. 
+
+
+
+
+
+52 
+
+
+FA OST. 
+
+
+Lo! It waits for thy attaining: 
+Then be moved to break the spell! 
+All the wealth which thou art gaining 
+Profits all the world as well. 
+
+
+PLUTUS (fo the HERALD). 
+We, in the highest sense, must be collected, 
+And let what say come, come, though unexpected, 
+Thy courage has not yet been counted short : 
+The fearful thing we now shall see will try it; 
+The world and History will both deny it, 
+So write it faithfully in thy report! 
+
+
+HERALD. 
+
+
+(Grasping the wand which Puurus holds in his hand.) 
+
+
+The dwarfs conduct the great Pan nigher, 
+Yet gently, to the fount of fire. 
+
+It bubbles from the throat profound, 
+Then sinks, retreating, to the ground, 
+And dark the open crater shows ; 
+
+And then again it boils and glows. 
+
+Great Pan in cheerful mood stands by, 
+Rejoiced the wondrous things to spy, 
+And right and left the foam-pearls fly. 
+How can he in the cheat confide? 
+
+He bends and stoops, to look inside. — 
+But now, behold! his beard falls in: 
+Whose is that smoothly-shaven chin ? 
+His hand conceals it from our sight. 
+What follows is a luckless plight ; 
+
+The beard, on fire, flies back to smite 
+His wreath and head and breast with flame: 
+To pain is turned the merry game. 
+
+They haste to quench the fire, but none 
+The swiftly -kindling flames can shun, 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ae 
+
+
+— om 
+
+
+ACT 7. 53 
+
+
+That flash and dart on other heads 
+
+Till wide the conflagration spreads : 
+Wrapped in the element, in turn 
+
+The masking groups take fire and burn. 
+But hark! what news is bruited here 
+From mouth to mouth, from ear to ear? 
+O evermore ill-fated night, 
+
+That brings to us such woe and blight ! 
+To-morrow will proclaim to all 
+
+What no one wishes to befall, 
+
+For everywhere the cry I hear: 
+
+“The Emperor suffers pain severe!” 
+
+O were the proclamation wrong ! 
+
+The Emperor burns and all his throng.# 
+Accurst be they who him misled, 
+
+With resinous twigs on breast and head, 
+To rave and bellow hither so, 
+
+To general, fatal overthrow. 
+
+O Youth! O Youth! wilt never thou 
+Limit thy draught of joy, in season? — 
+O Majesty, wilt never thou, 
+Omnipotent, direct with reason ? 
+
+The mimic woods enkindled are ; 
+
+The pointed tongues lick upward far 
+To where the rafters interlace: 
+
+A fiery doom hangs o’er the place. 
+
+Our cup of misery overflows, 
+
+For who shall save us no one knows. 
+The ash-heap of a night shall hide, 
+To-morrow, this imperial pride. 
+
+
+PLUTUS. 
+
+
+Terror is enough created ; 
+Now be help inaugurated ! 
+Smite, thou hallowed wand, and make 
+
+
+54 
+
+
+FA OST. 
+
+
+Earth beneath thee peal and quake ! 
+Thou, the spacious breadth of air, 
+Cooling vapors breathe and bear ! 
+Hither speed, around us growing, 
+Misty films and belts o’erflowing, 
+And the fiery tumult tame ! 
+
+Trickle, whisper, clouds, be crisper, 
+Roll in masses, softly drenching, 
+Mantling everywhere, and quenching! 
+Ye, the moist, the broadly bright’ning, 
+Change to harmless summer lightning 
+All this empty sport of flame ! — 
+When by spirits we ’re molested, 
+Then be Magic manifested. 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT £. | 55 
+
+
+IV. 
+
+
+PLEASURE-GARDEN. 
+
+
+THE MORNING SUN. 
+
+
+The EMPEROR, Ass Court, Gentlemen and Ladies: FAvust, 
+MEPHISTOPHELES, becomingly, according to the mode, not 
+showtly dressed: both kneel. 
+
+
+. FAUST. 
+GRRE pardon’st thou the jugglery of flame? 
+
+
+. EMPEROR (beckoning him to rise). 
+
+
+I wish more exhibitions of the same. 
+
+A-sudden stood I in a glowing sphere ; 
+
+It almost seemed as if I Pluto were. 
+
+There lay, like night, with little fires besprent, 
+
+A rocky bottom. Out of many a vent, 
+
+Whirling, a thousand savage flames ascended, 
+Till in a single vault their streamers blended. 
+The tongues even to the highest dome were shot, 
+That ever was, and ever then was not. 
+
+Through the far space of spiral shafts of flame 
+The long processions of the people came ; 
+Crowding, till all the circle was o’errun, 
+
+They did me homage, as they ’ve ever done. 
+Some from my Court I knew: to speak with candor, 
+A Prince I seemed o’er many a salamander. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+That art thou, Sire! Because each element 
+Fully accepts thy Majesty’s intent. 
+
+
+56 FAUST. 
+
+
+Obedient Fire is tested now by thee : 
+
+Where wildest heaving, leap into the Sea, 
+
+And scarce the pearly floor thy foot shall tread, 
+
+A grand rotunda rises o’er thy head: 
+
+Thou seest the green, translucent billows swelling, 
+With purple edge, for thy delightful dwelling, 
+Round thee, the central point. Walk thou at will, 
+The liquid palaces go with thee still! | 
+
+The very walls rejoice in life, disporting 
+
+In arrowy flight, in chasing and consorting : 
+Sea-marvels crowd around thé glory new and fair, 
+Shoot from all sides, yet none can enter there. 
+There gorgeous dragons, golden-armored, float ; 
+There gapes the shark, thou laughest in his throat. 
+However much this Court thy pride may please, 
+Yet hast thou never seen such throngs as these. 
+Nor from the loveliest shalt thou long be parted; 
+The curious Nereids come, the wild, shy-hearted, 
+To thy bright dwelling in the endless waters, — 
+Timid and sly as fish the youngest daughters, 
+The elder cunning: Thetis hears the news 
+
+And will, at once, her second Peleus choose. 
+
+The seat, then, on Olympus high and free — 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+
+The spaces of the air I leave to thee: 
+One all too early must ascend that throne. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+And Earth, high Prince! already is thine own. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+What fortune brought thee here, for our delights, 
+Directly from the One and Thousand Nights ? 
+If thou like Scheherazade art rich in stories, 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT 7. 57 
+
+
+My favor shall insure thee higher glories. 
+Be ready always, when your world of day, 
+As often haps, disgusts me every way ! 
+
+
+LORD HIGH STEWARD (enters hastily). 
+
+
+Highness Serene, I never dared expect 
+
+To trumpet forth a fortune so select 
+
+As this, supremely blessing me, 
+
+Which I announce with joy to thee: 
+Reckoning on reckoning ’s balanced squarely ; 
+The usurer’s claws are blunted rarely ; 
+
+I’m from my hellish worry free : 
+
+Things can’t in Heaven more cheerful be. 
+
+
+GENERAL-IN-CHIEF (follows hastily). 
+
+
+Arrears of pay are settled duly, 
+
+The army is enlisted newly ; 
+
+The trooper’s blood is all alive, 
+
+The landlords and the wenches thrive. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+
+How breathe your breasts in broader spaces ! 
+How cheerful are your furrowed faces! 
+How ye advance with nimble speed ! 
+
+
+TREASURER (appearing). 
+Ask these, ’t is they have done the deed! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+It is the Chancellor’s place the matter to present. 
+
+
+CHANCELLOR (who comes forward slowly). 
+
+
+In my old days I’m blest, and most content. 
+So hear and see the fortune-freighted leaf # 
+Which has transformed to happiness our grief. 
+
+
+2% 
+
+
+58 FAUST. 
+
+
+(He reads.) 
+
+
+“To all to whom this cometh, be it known: 
+
+A thousand crowns in worth this note doth own. 
+It to secure, as certain pledge, shall stand 
+
+All buried treasure in the Emperor’s land: 
+
+And ’t is decreed, perfecting thus the scheme, 
+The treasure, soon as raised, shall this redeem.” 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+A most enormous cheat — a crime, I fear! 
+Who forged the Emperor’s sign-manual here ? 
+Has there not been a punishment condign? 
+
+
+TREASURER. 
+Remember! Thou the note didst undersign ; 
+Last night, indeed. Thou stood’st as mighty Pan, 
+And thus the Chancellor’s speech, before thee, ran: 
+“Grant to thyself the festal pleasure, then 
+The People’s good —a few strokes of the pen!” 
+These didst thou give: they were, ere night retreated, 
+By skilful conjurers thousandfold repeated ; 
+And, that a like advantage all might claim, 
+We stampeti at once the series with thy name: 
+Tens, Thirties, Fifties, Hundreds, are prepared. 
+Thou canst not think how well the folk have fared. 
+Behold thy town, half-dead once, and decaying, 
+How all, alive, enjoying life, are straying! 
+Although thy name long since the world made glad, 
+Such currency as now it never had. 
+No longer needs the alphabet thy nation, 
+For in this sign each findeth his salvation. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+
+And with my people does it pass for gold? 
+For pay in court and camp, the notes they hold? 
+Then I must yield, although the thing ’s amazing. 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT I. 59 
+
+
+LORD HIGH STEWARD. 
+
+
+"T was scattered everywhere, like wild-fire blazing, 
+As currency, and none its course may stop. 
+
+A crowd surrounds each money-changer’s shop, 
+And every note is there accepted duly 
+
+For gold and silver’s worth — with discount, truly. 
+Thence is it spread to landlords, butchers, bakers: 
+One half the people feast as pleasure-takers ; 
+
+In raiment new the others proudly go, — 
+
+The tradesmen cut their cloth, the tailors sew. 
+The crowd * The Emperor’s health!” in cellars wishes, 
+Midst cooking, roasting, rattling of the dishes. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+If one along the lonely terrace stray, 
+
+He sees the lady, in superb array, 
+
+With brilliant peacock-fan before one eye; 
+
+A note she looks for, as she simpers by, 
+
+And readier than by wit or eloquence 
+
+Before Love’s favor falls the last defence. 
+One is not plagued his purse or sack to carry; 
+Such notes one lightly in his bosom bears, 
+Or them with fond epistles neatly pairs : 
+
+The priest devoutly in his breviary 
+
+Bears his: the soldier would more freely trip, 
+And lightens thus the girdle round his hip. 
+Your Majesty will pardon, if my carriage 
+Seems as it might the lofty work disparage. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+The overplus of wealth, in torpor bound, 
+Which 1n thy lands lies buried in the ground, 
+Is all unused; nor boldest thought can measure 
+The 2e7rowest boundaries of such a treasure. 
+
+
+60 FAUOST. 
+
+
+Imagination, in its highest flight, 
+
+Exerts itself, but cannot grasp it quite ; 
+
+Yet minds, that dare explore the secrets soundless, 
+In boundless things possess a faith that’s boundlesa 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Such paper, stead of gold and jewelry, 
+
+So handy is —one knows one’s property : 
+
+One has no need of bargains or exchanges, 
+
+But drinks of love or wine, as fancy ranges. 
+
+If one needs coin, the brokers ready stand, 
+
+And if it fail, one digs awhile the land. 
+
+Goblet and chain one then at auction sells, 
+
+And paper, liquidated thus, compels 
+
+The shame of doubters and their scornful wit. 
+The people wish naught else; they ’re used to it: 
+From this time forth, your borders, far and wide, 
+With jewels, gold, and paper are supplied. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+You ’ve given our empire this prosperity ; 
+The pay, then, equal to the service be! 
+The soil intrusted to your keeping, shall you 
+The best custodians be, to guard its value. 
+You know the hoards, well-kept, of all the land, 
+And when men dig, ’t is you must give command, 
+Unite then now, ye masters of our treasure, 
+This, your new dignity, to wear with pleasure, 
+And bring the Upper World, erewhile asunder, 
+In happiest conjunction with the Under! 
+
+
+TREASURER. 
+
+
+No further strife shall shake our joint position ; 
+
+
+I like to have as partner the magician. 
+[E£xit, with Faus? 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT Tf. 61 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+
+Man after man, the Court will I endow: 
+Let each confess for what he ’ll spend, and how! 
+
+
+PAGE (recetving). 
+I'll lead a jolly life, enjoy good cheer. 
+
+
+A SECOND (the same). 
+I ’ll buy at once some trinkets for my dear. 
+
+
+CHAMBERLAIN (accepting). 
+Wines twice as good shall down my throat go trickling, 
+
+
+A SECOND (the same). 
+I feel the dice within my pockets tickling. 
+
+
+KNIGHT BANNERET (refiectively). 
+My lands and castle shall be free of debt. 
+
+
+ANOTHER (the same). 
+I "ll add to other wealth the wealth I get. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+
+¥ hoped the gifts to bolder deeds would beckon ; 
+But he who knows you, knows whereon to reckon. 
+I see that, spite of all this treasure-burst, 
+
+You stay exactly as you were at first. 
+
+
+FOOL (approaching). 
+You scatter favors: grant me also some! 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+‘1 hou ’rt come to life? ’T would go at once for rum. 
+
+
+62 FA OST. 
+
+
+FOOL. 
+The magic leaves! I don’t quite comprehend. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+That I believe; for them thou ‘It badly spend. 
+
+
+FOOL. 
+There others drop: I don’t know what to do. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+
+Just pick them up! they fall to thy share, too. 
+| aires 
+FOOL. 
+Five thousand crowns are mine? How unexpected ! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Two-leggéd wine-skin, art thou resurrected ? 
+
+
+FOOL. 
+Much luck I ’ve had, but like this never yet. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Thou ’rt so rejoiced, it puts thee in a sweat. 
+
+
+FOOL. 
+But look at this, is ’t money’s-worth, indeed ? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+*T will bring thee what thy throat and belly need. 
+
+
+FOOL. 
+And cattle can I buy, and house and land? 
+
+
+' MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Gf course! just make an offer once, off-hand ! 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT I. 63 
+
+
+FOOL. 
+Castle and wood, and chase, and fishing? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+All! 
+I ’d like upon Your Worship then to call. 
+FOOL. 
+To-night as landed owner I shall sit. 
+| Exit, 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (solus). 
+Who now will doubt that this our Fool has wit? 
+
+
+64 FAUST. 
+
+
+v. 
+
+
+A GLOOMY GALLERY. 
+FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+yw wilt thou with me in this gloomy gallery ? 
+Is there not still enough of sport 
+There, in the crowded, motley Court, — 
+Not chance for tricks, and fun, and raillery ? 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Don’t tell me that !— In our old days the fun of it 
+Didst thou wear out, and I ’Il have none of it. 
+Thy wandering here and there is planned 
+
+Just to evade what I demand. 
+
+But I ’m tormented something to obtain ; 
+
+The Marshal drives me, and the Chamberlain. 
+The Emperor orders, he will instantly 
+
+Helen and Paris here before him see, — 
+
+The model forms of Man and Woman, wearing, 
+Distinctly shown, their ancient shape and bearing. 
+Now to the work! I dare not break my word. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+So thoughtlessly to promise was absurd. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Thou hast not, comrade, well reflected 
+What comes of having used thy powers : 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT J. 65 
+
+
+We ’ve made him rich; ’t is now expected 
+That we amuse his idle hours. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Thou deem’st the thing is quickly fixed: 
+Here before steeper ways we ’re standing ; 
+With strangest spheres wouldst thou be mixed, 
+And, sinful, addest new debts to the old, — 
+Think’st Helen will respond to thy commanding 
+As freely as the paper-ghosts of gold! | 
+With witches’-riches and with spectre-pictures, 
+And changeling-dwarfs, I ’ll give no cause for strictures ; 
+But Devil’s-darlings, though you may not scold ’em, 
+You cannot quite as heroines behold ’em. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+The old hand-organ still I hear thee play ! 
+From thee one always gets uncertain sense, 
+The father, thou, of all impediments : 
+For every means thou askest added pay. 
+A little muttering, and the thing takes place; 
+Ere one can turn, beside us here her shade is. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+I ’ve no concern with the old heathen race ; 
+They house within their special Hades.43 
+Yet there ’s a way. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Speak, nor delay thy history ! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Unwilling, I reveal a loftier mystery. — 
+
+In solitude are throned the Goddesses, 
+
+No Space around them, Place and Time still less; 
+E 
+
+
+66 FAUST. 
+
+
+Only to speak of them embarrasses. 
+They are THE MOTHERS!“ 
+
+
+FAUST (terrified). 
+Mothers ! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Hast thou dread? 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+The Mothers! Mothers ! —a strange word is said. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+It is so. Goddesses, unknown to ye, 
+
+The Mortals, — named by us unwillingly. 
+
+Delve in the deepest depths must thou, to reach them: 
+*T is thine own fault that we for help beseech them. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Where is the way? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+No way !— To the Unreachable, 
+Ne’er to be trodden! A way to the Unbeseechable, 
+Never to be besought! Art thou prepared? 
+There are no locks, no latches to be lifted ; 
+Through endless solitudes shalt thou be drifted. 
+Hast thou through solitudes and deserts fared ? 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+I think ’t were best to spare such speeches; 
+They smell too strongly of the witches, 
+
+Of cheats that long ago insnared. 
+
+Have I not known all earthly vanities ? 
+Learned the inane, and taught inanities ? 
+When as I felt I spake, with sense as guide, 
+The contradiction doubly shrill replied ; 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT 1. 67 
+
+
+Enforced by odious tricks, have I not fled 
+To solitudes and wildernesses dread, 
+And that I might not live alone, unheeded, 
+Myself at last unto the Devil deeded! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+And hadst thou swum to farthest verge of ocean, 
+And there the boundless space beheld, 
+Still hadst thou seen wave after wave in motion, 
+Even though impending doom thy fear compelled. 
+Thou hadst seen something, — in the beryl dim 
+Of peace-lulled seas the sportive dolphins swim ; 
+Hadst seen the flying clouds, sun, moon, and star: 
+Naught shalt thou see in eridless Void afar, — 
+Not hear thy footstep fall, nor meet 
+A stable spot to rest thy feet. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Thou speak’st, as of all mystagogues the chief, 
+Who e’er brought faithful neophytes to grief; 
+Only reversed : — I to the Void am sent, 
+That Art and Power therein I may augment: 
+To use me like the cat is thy desire, 
+To scratch for thee the chestnuts from the fire. 
+Come on, then! we ’ll explore, whate’er befall ; 
+In this, thy Nothing, may I find my All! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+I'll praise thee, ere we separate: I see 
+Thou knowest the Devil thoroughly. 
+Here, take this key ! 4 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+That little thing ? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Take hold of it, not undervaluing ! 
+
+
+
+
+
+68 FAUST. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+It glows, it shines, — increases in my hand! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+How much ’t is worth, thou soon shalt understand. 
+The Key will scent the true place from all others: 
+Follow it down ! —’t will lead thee to the Mothers, 
+
+
+FAUST (shuddering). 
+
+
+The Mothers! Like a blow it strikes me still ! 
+What is the word, to hear which makes me chill ? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Art thou so weak, disturbed by each new word ? 
+Wilt only hear what thou ’st already heard ? 
+
+To wondrous things art thou so used already, 
+
+Let naught, howe’er it sound, make thee unsteady! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Nathless in torpor lies no good for me ; 
+
+The chill of dread is Man’s best quality. 
+
+Though from the feeling oft the world may fend us, 
+Deeply we feel, once smitten, the Tremendous. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Descend, then! I could also say: Ascend! 
+*T were all the same. Escape from the Created 
+To shapeless forms in liberated spaces ! 
+Enjoy what long ere this was dissipated ! 
+There whirls the press, like clouds on clouds unfolding ; 
+Then with stretched arm swing high the key thou ’rt 
+holding! 
+FAUST (inspired ). 
+Good! grasping firmly, fresher strength I win: 
+My breast expands, let the great work begin! 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT J. 69 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+At last a blazing tripod tells thee this, 
+
+That there the utterly deepest bottom is. 
+
+Its light to thee will then the Mothers show, 
+Some in their seats, the others stand or go, 
+
+At their own will: Formation, Transformation, 
+The Eternal Mind’s eternal recreation, 
+
+Forms of all creatures, — there are floating free. 
+They ’ll see thee not; for only wraiths they see. 
+So pluck up heart, — the danger then is great, — 
+Go to the tripod ere thou hesitate, 
+
+And touch it with the key! 
+
+
+_ |Faust, with the key, assumes a decidedly commanding atti- 
+tude. MEPHISTOPHELES, observing him.) 
+
+
+So, that is right! 
+It will adhere, and follow thee to light. 
+Composedly mounting, by thy luck upborne, 
+Before they notice it, shalt thou return. 
+When thou the tripod hither hast conveyed, 
+Then call the hero, heroine, from the shade, — 
+The first that ever such a deed perfected: 
+*T is done, and thou thereto hast been selected. 
+For instantly, by magic process warmed, 
+To gods the incense-mist shall be transformed. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+What further now ? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Downward thy being strain! 
+Stamp and descend, stamping thou ’It rise again. 
+
+
+(Faust stamps, and sinks out of sight.) 
+
+
+If only, by the key, he something learn ! 
+I’m curious to see if he return. 
+
+
+70 FAUST. 
+
+
+VI. 
+
+
+BRILLIANTLY LIGHTED HALLS. 
+
+
+EMPEROR AND PRINCES. THE CouRT IN MOVE 
+MENT. 
+
+
+CHAMBERLAIN (fo MEPHISTOPHELES). 
+HE spirit-scene you ’ve promised, still you owe us; 
+Our Lord ’s impatient; come, the phantasm show 
+us | 
+LORD HIGH STEWARD. 
+Just now His Gracious Self did question me: | 
+Delay not, nor offend His Majesty ! : 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+My comrade ’s gone to set the work in motion; 
+How to begin, he has the proper notion. 
+
+In secret he the charms must cull, 
+
+Must labor with a fervor tragic: 
+
+Who would that treasure lift, the Beautiful, 
+Requires the highest Art, the sage’s Magic. 
+
+
+LORD HIGH STEWARD. 
+
+
+What arts you need, is all the same to me; 
+The Emperor wills that you should ready be. 
+
+
+A BLONDE (/o MEPHISTOPHELES). 
+
+
+One word, Sir! Here you see a visage fair, — 
+In sorry summer I another wear ! 
+There sprout a hundred brown and reddish freckles, 
+
+
+ACT I. 7 
+
+
+And vex my lily skin with ugly speckles. 
+A cure! 
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+’T is pity! Shining fair, yet smitten, — 
+
+Spotted, when May comes, like a panther-kitten ! 
+Take frog-spawn, tongues of toads, which cohobate, 
+Under the full moon deftly distillate, 
+And, whea it wanes, apply the mixture: 
+Next spring, the spots will be no more a fixture. 
+
+
+A BRUNETTE. 
+To sponge upon you, what a crowd ’s advancing ! 
+I beg a remedy: a frozen foot 
+Annoys me much, in walking as in dancing ; 
+And awkwardly I manage to salute. 
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+A gentle kick permit, then, from my foot! “ 
+
+
+THE BRUNETTE. 
+Well, — that might happen, when the two are lovers. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+My kick a more important meaning covers: 
+Stmilia similibus, when one is sick. 
+The foot cures foot, each limb its hurt can palliate ; 
+Come near! Take heed! and, pray you, don’t retaliate! 
+
+
+THE BRUNETTE (screaming). 
+
+
+Oh! oh! it stings! That was a fearful kick, 
+Like hoof of horse. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+But it has cured you, quick. 
+To dance whene’er you please, you now are able; 
+To press your lover’s foot, beneath the table. 
+
+
+
+
+
+72 FAUST. 
+
+
+LADY (pressing forwards). 
+Make room for me! Too great is my affliction, 
+My tortures worse than those described in fiction: 
+His bliss, till yesterday, was in my glances, 
+But now he turns his back, and spins with Aer romances. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+The matter ’s grave, but listen unto me! 
+
+Draw near to him with gentle, soft advances ; 
+
+Then take this coal and mark him stealthily 
+
+On mantle, shoulder, sleeve, — though ne’er so slight, 
+Yet penitent at once his heart will be. 
+
+The coal thereafter you must straightway swallow, 
+And let no sip of wine or water follow: 
+
+He ’ll sigh before your door this very night. 
+
+
+THE LADY. 
+It is not poison, sure? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (offended). 
+
+
+Respect, where it is due ! 
+To get such coals, you ’d travel many a mile: 
+They ’re from the embers of a funeral pile, 
+The fires whereof we once more hotly blew. 
+
+
+PAGE. 
+I love, yet still am counted adolescent. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (aside). 
+I know not whom to listen to, at present. 
+(Zo the Page.) 
+
+
+Let not the younger girls thy fancies fetter; 
+Those well in years know how to prize thee better. — 
+
+
+(Others crowd around him.) 
+Already others? ’T is a trial, sooth! 
+
+
+ACT I. 73 
+
+
+I "ll help myself, at last, with naked truth — 
+
+The worst device !—so great my misery. 
+
+O Mothers! Mothers! let but Faust go free! 
+(Gazing around him.) 
+
+The lights are burning dimly in the hall, 
+
+The Court is moving onward, one and all: 
+
+I see them march, according to degrees, 
+
+Through long arcades and distant galleries. 
+
+Now they assemble in the ample space 
+
+Of the Knights’ Hall; yet hardly all find place. 
+
+The breadth of walls is hung with arras rich, 
+
+And armor gleams from every nook and niche. 
+
+Here, I should think, there needs no magic word: 
+
+The ghosts will come, and of their own accord. 
+
+
+VOL. IL. 4 
+
+
+74 FAUST. 
+
+
+VII. 
+
+
+HALL OF THE KNIGHTS, DIMLY LIGHTED 
+(Zhe Emperor and Court have entered.) 
+
+
+HERALD.“ 
+
+
+INE ancient office, to proclaim the action, 
+
+Is by the spirits’ secret influence thwarted: 
+One tries in vain; such wildering distraction 
+Can’t be explained, or reasonably reported. 
+The chairs are ranged, the seats are ready all: 
+The Emperor sits, fronting the lofty wall, 
+Where on the tapestry the battles he 
+Of the great era may with comfort see. 
+Here now are all — Prince, Court, and their belonging, 
+Benches on benches in the background thronging ; 
+And lovers, too, in these dim hours enchanted, 
+Beside their loved ones lovingly are planted. 
+And now, since all have found convenient places, 
+We ’re ready: let the spirits show the-r faces 
+
+
+Trumpets. 
+
+
+ASTROLOGER. 
+
+
+Begin the Drama! ’T is the Sire’s command: 
+Ye walls, be severed straightway, and expand! 
+Naught hinders ; magic answers our desire: 
+The arras flies, as shrivelled up by fire ; 
+
+The walls are split, unfolded: in the gloom 
+
+A theatre appears to be created : 
+
+
+ACT J. 75 
+
+
+By mystic light are we illuminated, 
+And I ascend to the proscenium. — 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES 
+(rising to view in the prompter's box). 
+I hope to win, as prompter, general glory ; 
+For prompting is the Devil’s oratory. 
+(Zo the Astrologer.) 
+
+
+Thou know’st the tune and time the stars that lead; 
+Thou wilt my whispers like a master heed. 
+
+
+ASTROLOGER. 
+
+
+By power miraculous, we here behold 
+
+A massive temple of the days of old. 
+
+Like Atlas, who erewhile the heavens upbore, 
+The serried columns stand, an ample store: 
+Well may they for the weight of stone suffice, 
+Since two might bear a mighty edifice. 
+
+
+ARCHITECT.® 
+
+
+That the antique? As fine it can’t be rated ; 
+I ’d sooner style it awkward, over-weighted. 
+Coarse is called noble, and unwieldy, grand : 
+Give me the slender shafts that soar, expand ! 
+To lift the mind, a pointed arch may boast; 
+Such architecture edifies us most. 
+
+
+ASTROLOGER. 
+
+
+Receive with reverence the star-granted hours ; 
+Let magic words bind Reason’s restless powers, 
+But in return unbind, to circle free, 
+
+The wings of splendid, daring Phantasy ! 
+
+What you have boldly wished, see now achieved ! 
+Impossible ’t is— therefore to be believed. 
+
+
+
+
+
+76 FAUST. 
+
+
+(FAUST rises to view on the other side of the proscenium.) 
+In priestly surplice, crowned, a marvellous man, 
+He now fulfils what he in faith began. 
+
+With him, a tripod from the gulf comes up: 
+
+I scent the incense-odors from the cup. 
+
+He arms himself, the work to consecrate, 
+
+And henceforth it can be but fortunate. 
+
+
+FAUST (sudlimely). 
+
+
+Ye Mothers, in your name, who set your throne 
+In boundless Space, eternally alone, 
+
+And yet companioned! AW the forms of Being, 
+In movement, lifeless, ye are round you seeing. 
+Whate’er once was, there burns and brightens free 
+In splendor — for ’t would fain eternal be; © 
+And ye allot it, with all-potent might, 
+
+To Day’s pavilions and the vaults of Night. 
+Life seizes some, along his gracious course ; 
+Others arrests the bold Magician’s force ; 
+
+And he, bestowing as his faith inspires, 
+Displays the Marvellous, that each desires. 
+
+
+ASTROLOGER. 
+
+
+The glowing key has scarcely touched the cup, 
+And lo! through all the space, a mist rolls up: 
+It creeps about, and like a cloudy train, 
+Spreads, rounding, narrowing, parting, closed again. 
+And now, behold a spirit-masterpiece ! 
+
+Music is born from every wandering fleece. 
+
+The tones of air, I know not how they flow; 
+Where’er they move all things melodious grow. 
+The pillared shaft, the triglyph even rings : 
+
+I think, indeed, the whole bright temple sings. 
+The vapors settle; as the light film clears, 
+
+A beauteous youth, with rhythmic step, appears. 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT 7. 77 
+
+
+Here ends my task; his name I need not tell: 
+Who doth not know the gentle Paris well? = 
+
+
+LADY. 
+O, what a youthful bloom and strength I see! 
+
+
+A SECOND. 
+Fresh as a peach, and full of juice, is he! 
+
+
+A THIRD. 
+The finely drawn, the sweetly swelling lip! 
+
+
+A FOURTH. | 
+From such a cup, no doubt, you ’d like to sip? 
+
+
+A FIFTH. 
+He ’s handsome, if a little unrefined. 
+
+
+A SIXTH. 
+He might be somewhat gracefuller, to my mind. 
+
+
+KNIGHT. 
+
+
+The shepherd I detect; I find him wearing 
+No traces of the Prince, or courtly bearing. 
+
+
+ANOTHER. 
+
+
+O, yes! half-naked is the youth not bad; 
+But let us see him first in armor clad! 
+
+
+LADY. 
+He seats himself, with such a gentle grace! 
+
+
+KNIGHT. 
+You ’d find his lap, perchance, a pleasant place? 
+
+
+78 FAUST. 
+
+
+ANOTHER. 
+He lifts his arm so lightly o’er his head. 
+
+
+CHAMBERLAIN. 
+’T is not allowed: how thoroughly ill-bred ! 
+
+
+. LADY. 
+You lords find fault with all things evermore, 
+
+
+CHAMBERLAIN. 
+To stretch and yawn before the Emperor ! 
+
+
+LADY. 
+He only acts: he thinks he’s quite alone. 
+
+
+CHAMBERLAIN. 
+Even the play should be politely shown. 
+
+
+LADY. 
+Now sleep falls on the graceful youth so sweetly. 
+
+
+CHAMBERLAIN. 
+Now will he snore: ’t is natural, completely ! 
+
+
+YOUNG LADY. 
+Mixed with the incense-steam, what odor precious 
+Steals to my bosom, and my heart refreshes ? 
+_ OLDER LADY. 
+Forsooth, it penetrates and warms the feeling! 
+It comes from him. 
+OLDEST LADY. 
+
+
+His flower of youth, unsealing, 
+It is: Youth’s fine ambrosia, ripe, unfading, 
+The atmosphere around his form pervading. 
+(HELENA comes forward.) 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT I. 79 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+So, that is she? My sleep she would not waste: 
+She’s pretty, truly, but she’s not my taste. 
+
+
+ASTROLOGER. 
+
+
+There ’s nothing more for me to do, I trow; 
+
+As man of honor, I confess it now. 
+
+The Beauty comes, and had I tongues of fire, — 
+So many songs did Beauty e’er inspire, — 
+
+Who sees her, of his wits is dispossessed, 
+
+And who possessed her was too highly blessed. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Have I still eyes? Deep in my being springs 
+The fount of Beauty, in a torrent pouring ! 
+A heavenly gain my path of terror brings. 
+The world was void, and shut to my exploring, — 
+And, since my priesthood, how hath it been graced ! 
+Enduring ’t is, desirable, firm-based. 
+And let my breath of being blow to waste, 
+If I for thee unlearn my sacred duty ! 
+The form, that long erewhile my fancy captured,* 
+That from the magic mirror so enraptured, 
+Was but a frothy phantom of such beauty ! 
+*T is Thou, to whom the stir of all my forces, 
+The essence of my passion’s courses, — 
+Love, fancy, worship, madness, — here I render ! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (/rom the box). 
+Be calm !— you lose your réle, to be so tender! 
+
+
+OLDER LADY. 
+Tall and well-formed! Too small the head, alone. 
+
+
+YOUNGER LADY. 
+Just see her foot! A heavier ne’er was shown. 
+
+
+80 FAUST. 
+
+
+DIPLOMATIST. 
+
+
+Princesses of her style I’ve often seen: 
+From head to foot she ’s beautiful, I ween. 
+
+
+COURTIER. 
+She near the sleeper steals, so soft and sly. 
+
+
+LADY. 
+How ugly, near that youthful purity ! 
+
+
+POET. 
+Her beauty’s light is on him like a dawn. 
+
+
+LADY. 
+Endymion and Luna —as they ’re drawn! 
+
+
+POET. 
+
+
+Quite right! The yielding goddess seems to sink, 
+And o’er him bend, his balmy breath to drink. 
+Enviable fate — a kiss ! —the cup is full! 
+
+
+DUENNA. 
+Before all people ! — that is more than cool. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+A fearful favor to the boy ! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Be still! 
+Suffer the shade to do whate’er it will! 
+COURTIER. 
+She slips away, light-footed: he awakes. 
+
+
+LADY. 
+Just as I thought! Another look she takes. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT 7. 81 
+
+
+COURTIER. 
+He stares: what haps, to him a marvel is. 
+
+
+LADY. 
+But none to her, what she before her sees ! 
+
+
+COURTIER. 
+She turns around to him with dignity. 
+
+
+LADY. 
+
+
+I see, she means to put him through his paces: 
+All men, in such a case, act stupidly. 
+Then, too, he thinks that first he’s won her graces. 
+
+
+KNIGHT. 
+Majestically fine !— She pleases me. 
+
+
+LADY. 
+The courtesan! How very vulgar she! 
+
+
+PAGE. 
+Just where he is, is where I ’d like to be! 
+
+
+COURTIER. 
+Who would not fain be caught in such sweet meshes? 
+
+
+LADY. 
+
+
+Through many a hand hath passed that jewel precious ; 
+The gilding, too, is for the most part gone. 
+
+
+ANOTHER. 
+She has been worthless from her tenth year on. 
+
+
+KNIGHT. 
+Each takes the best that chance for him obtains; 
+I °d be contented with these fair remains. 
+4* F 
+
+
+82 FAUST. 
+
+
+A LEARNED MAN. 
+
+
+I freely own, though ! distinctly see, 
+
+’T is doubtful if the genuine one she be. 
+
+The Present leads us to exaggeration, 
+
+And I hold fast the written, old relation. 
+
+I read that, truly, ere her bloom was blighted, 
+The Trojan gray-beards greatly she delighted. 
+And here, methinks, it tallies perfectly : 
+
+I am not young, yet she delighteth me. 
+
+
+ASTROLOGER. 
+No more a boy! A bold, heroic form, 
+He clasps her, who can scarce resist the storm. 
+With arm grown strong he lifts her high and free: 
+
+
+Means he to bear her off? 
+FAUST. 
+Rash fool, let be! 
+Thou dar’st? Thou hear’st not? Hold!—I ’ll be 
+obeyed. 
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+The spectral drama thou thyself hast made! 
+
+
+ASTROLOGER. 
+
+
+A word more! After all we 've seen to-day, 
+I call the piece: Zhe Rape of Helena.* 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+What! Rape? Am I for nothing here? To stead me, 
+Is not this key still shining in my hand? 
+
+Through realms of terror, wastes, and waves it led me, 
+Through solitudes, to where I firmly stand. 
+
+Here foothold is! Realities here centre! 
+
+The strife with spirits here the mind may venture, 
+
+And on its grand, its double lordship enter ! 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT J. 83 
+
+
+How far she was, and nearer, how divine! 
+
+I “I! rescue her, and make her doubly mine. 
+
+Ye Mothers! Mothers! crown this wild endeavor ! 
+Who knows her once must hold her, and forever! 
+
+
+ASTROLOGER. 
+What art thou doing, Faust? O, look at him! 
+He seizes her: the form is growing dim. 
+He turns the key against the youth, and, lo! 
+It touches hm — Woe’s me! Away now! Woe on 
+
+
+woe ! 
+(Axplosion. YF iusr lies upon the earth. The Spirits dissolve 
+im vapor.) 
+MEPHISTOPHELES 
+(taking Faust upon his shoulders). 
+
+
+You have it now! One’s self with fools to hamper, 
+At last even on the Devil puts a damper. 
+
+
+Darkness. Tumult. 
+
+
+84 FAUST. 
+
+
+ACT II. 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+I. 
+
+
+A HIGH-ARCHED, NARROW, GOTHIC CHAM- 
+BER, FORMERLY FAUST’S, UNCHANGED. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES 
+‘coming forth from behind a curtain.3 While he holds st up 
+and looks behind him, FAUST ts seen lying stretched out upon 
+an antiquated bed). 
+IE there, ill-starred! seduced, unwise, 
+To bonds that surely hold the lover! 
+Whom Helena shall paralyze 
+Not soon his reason will recover. 
+(Looking around him.) 
+I look about, and through the glimmer 
+Unchanged, uninjured, all appears : 
+The colored window-panes, methinks, are dimmer, 
+The cobwebs have increased with years. 
+The ink is dry, the paper old and brown, 
+But each thing in its place I find: 
+Even the quill is here laid down, 
+Wherewith his compact with the Devil he signed. 
+Yea, deeper in, the barrel ’s red 
+With trace of blood I coaxed him then to shed. 
+A thing so totally unique 
+The great collectors would go far to seek. 
+
+
+ACT 7. 85 
+
+
+Half from its hook the old fur-robe is falling, 
+
+That ancient joke of mine recalling, 
+
+How once | taught the boy such truth 
+
+As still, it may be, nourishes the youth. 
+
+The wish returns, with zest acuter, 
+
+Aided by thee, thou rough disguise, 
+
+Once more to take on airs as college tutor, 
+
+As one infallible in one’s own eyes. 
+
+The savans this assurance know: 
+
+The Devil lost it, long ago! 
+
+( fe shakes the fur which he has taken down: moths, crickets, 
+and beetles fly out.) 
+
+
+CHORUS OF INSECTS. 
+
+
+Welcome, and hail to thee! 
+Patron, to-day : ; 
+We ’re flying and humming, 
+We hear and obey. 
+
+Singly and silently 
+
+Us thou hast sown ; 
+
+Hither, by thousands, 
+Father, we ’ve flown. 
+
+The imp in the bosom 
+
+Is snugly concealed ; 
+
+But lice in the fur-coat 
+
+Are sooner revealed. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+What glad surprise I feel, from this young life bestowed ' 
+One reaps in time, if one has only sowed. 
+
+Once more I ’ll shake the ancient fleeces out: 
+
+Still here and there a chance one flies about. — 
+
+Off, and around! in hundred thousand nooks 
+
+Hasten to hide yourselves — among the books, 
+
+There, in the pasteboard’s wormy holes, 
+
+
+86 FAUST. 
+
+
+Here, in the smoky parchment scrolls, 
+In dusty jars, that broken lie, 
+And yonder skull with empty eye. 
+In all this trash and mould unmatched, 
+Crotchets forever must be hatched. 
+(He puts on the fur-mantle.) 
+Come, once again upon my shoulders fall! 
+Once more am I the Principal. 
+But ’t is no good to ape the college; 
+For where are those who will my claim acknowledge ? 
+(Lle pulls the bell, which gives out a shrill, penetrating sound, 
+causing the halls to tremble and the doors to fly open.) 
+
+
+FAMULUS 
+
+(tottering hither down the long, dark gallery). 
+What a sound! What dreadful quaking! 
+Stairs are rocking, walls are shaking ; 
+Through the colored windows brightening 
+I behold the sudden lightning; 
+Floors above me crack and rumble, 
+Lime and lumber round me tumble, 
+And the door, securely bolted, 
+Is by magic force unfolded. — 
+There! How terrible! a Giant 
+Stands in Faust’s old fur, defiant! 
+As he looks, and beckons thither, 
+I could fall, my senses wither. 
+Shall I fly, or shall I wait? 
+What, O what shall be my fate! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (Jdeckoning). 
+Come hither, Friend! Your name is Nicodemus. 
+
+
+FAMULUS. 
+Most honored Sir, such is my name — Oremus / 
+
+
+
+
+
+| AcT 71. 87 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Dispense with that! 
+
+
+FAMULUS. 
+O joy! you know me yet. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES,. 
+
+
+Old, and a student still, — I don’t forget, 
+
+Most mossy Sir! Also a learned man 
+Continues study, since naught else he can. 
+
+’T is thus one builds a moderate house of cards; 
+The greatest minds ne’er end them, afterwards. 
+Your master is a skilful fellow, though : 
+
+The noble Doctor Wagner all must know. 
+
+The first in all the learned world is he, 
+
+Who now together holds it potently, 
+
+Wisdom increasing, daily making clearer. 
+
+How thirst for knowledge listener and hearer! 
+A mighty crowd around him flocks. 
+
+None for the rostrum e’er were meeter: 
+
+The keys he holds as doth Saint Peter, 
+
+The Under and the Upper he unlocks. 
+
+His light above all others sparkles surer, 
+
+No name or fame beside him lives: 
+
+Even that of Faust has grown obscurer ; 
+
+’T is he alone invents and gives. 
+
+
+FAMULUS. 
+
+
+Pardon, most honored Sir! if I am daring 
+
+To contradict you, in declaring 
+
+All that upon the subject has no bearing; 
+
+For modesty is his allotted part. 
+
+The incomprehensible disappearing 
+
+Of that great man to him is most uncheering ; 
+
+From his return he hopes new strength and joy of heart 
+
+
+
+
+
+88 
+
+
+FAUST. | 
+
+
+As 1n the days of Doctor Faust, the room, 
+Since he ’s away, all things unchanged, 
+
+Waits for its master, long estranged. 
+
+To venture in, I scarce presume. — 
+
+What stars must govern now the skies! 
+
+It seemed as if the basements quivered ; 
+
+The door-posts trembled, bolts were shivered : 
+You had not entered, otherwise. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Where may his present dwelling be? 
+Lead me to him! Bring him to me! 
+
+
+FAMULUS. 
+His prohibition is so keen! 
+I do not dare to intervene. 
+For months, his time unto the great work giving, 
+In most secluded silence he is living. 
+The daintiest of distinguished learners, 
+His face is like a charcoal-burner’s, 
+From nose to ears all black and deadened ; 
+His eyes from blowing flames are reddened : 
+Thus he, each moment, pants and longs, 
+And music make the clattering tongs. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+An entrance why should he deny me? 
+I'll expedite his luck, if he ’ll but try me! 
+
+
+(Zhe FAMULUS goes off: MEPHISTOPHELES seats himself with 
+
+
+gravity.) 
+Scarce have I taken my position here, 
+When there, behind, I see a guest appear. 
+I know him; he is of the schoel new-founded, 
+And his presumption will be quite unbounded. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT £1. 89 
+
+
+BACCALAUREUSSS (storming along the corridor). 
+
+
+Doors and entrances are open! 
+
+Well, — at last there ’s ground for hoping 
+That no more, in mouldy lumber, 
+Death-like, doth the Living slumber, 
+
+To himself privations giving, 
+
+Till he dies of very living! 
+
+
+All this masonry, I’m thinking, 
+
+To its overthrow is sinking ; 
+
+And, unless at once we hurry, 
+
+Us will crash and ruin bury. 
+
+Daring though I be, ’t were murther 
+Should I dare to venture further. 
+
+
+What is that I see before me? 
+
+Here, (what years have since rolled o’er me !) 
+Shy and unsophisticated, 
+
+I as honest freshman waited; 
+
+Here I let the gray-beards guide me, 
+
+Here their babble edified me! 
+
+
+Out of dry old volumes preaching, 
+
+What they knew, they lied in teaching ; 
+What they knew, themselves believed not, 
+Stealing life, that years retrieved not. 
+What! —in yonder cell benighted 
+
+One still sits, obscurely lighted ! 
+
+
+Nearer now, I see, astcunded, 
+
+Still he sits, with furs surrounded, — 
+Truly, as I saw him last, 
+
+Roughest fleeces round him cast! 
+Then adroit he seemed to be, 
+
+Not yet understood by me: 
+
+
+go FAUST. 
+
+
+But to-day ’t will naught avail him— 
+O, I'll neither fear nor fail him! 
+
+
+If, ancient Sir, that bald head, sidewards bending, 
+Hath not been dipped in Lethe’s river cold, 
+
+See, hitherward, your grateful scholar wending, 
+Outgrown the academic rods of old. 
+
+You ’re here, as then when I began; 
+
+But / am now another man. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+I’m glad my bell your visit brought me. 
+
+Your talents, then, I rated high ; 
+
+The worm, the chrysalid soon taught me 
+
+The future brilliant butterfly. 
+
+Your curly locks and ruffle-laces 
+
+A childish pleasure gave; you wooed the graces, 
+A queue, I think, you ’ve never worn ? 
+
+But now your head is cropped and shorn. 
+
+Quite bold and resolute you appear. 
+
+But don’t go, absolute, home from here! * 
+
+
+BACCALAUREUS. 
+
+
+Old master, in your old place leaning, 
+Think how the time has sped, the while! 
+Spare me your words of double meaning! 
+We take them now in quite another style. 
+You teased and vexed the honest youth; 
+You found it easy then, in truth, 
+
+To do what no one dares, to-day. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+If to the young the simple truth we say, 
+The green ones find it nowise pleasant play; 
+But afterwards, when years are over, 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT I. g! 
+
+
+And they the truth through their own hide discover, 
+Then they conceive, themselves have found it out: 
+“ The master was a fool!’ one hears them shout. 
+
+
+BACCALAUREUS, 
+A rogue, perhaps! What teacher will declare 
+The truth to us, exactly fair and square? 
+Each knows the way to lessen or exceed it, 
+Now stern, now lively, as the children need it. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Beyond a doubt, there is a time to learn; 
+But you are skilled to teach, I now discern. 
+Since many a moon, some circles of the sun, 
+The riches of experience you have won. 
+
+
+BACCALAUREUS. 
+Experience! mist and froth alone! 
+Nor with the mind at all coequal : 
+Confess, what one has always known 
+Is not worth knowing, in the sequel ! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (after a pause). 
+
+
+It ’s long seemed soto me. I was a fool: 
+My shallowness I now must ridicule. 
+
+
+BACCALAUREUS. 
+
+
+I’m glad of that! I hear some reason yet— 
+The first old man of sense I ever met! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+I sought for hidden treasures, grand and golden, 
+And hideous coals and ashes were my share. 
+
+
+BACCALAUREUS. 
+Confess that now your skull, though bald and olden, 
+Is worth no more than is yon empty, there! 
+
+
+
+
+
+92 FAUST. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (amiably). 
+Know’st thou, my friend, how rude thou art to me? 
+
+
+BACCALAUREUS. 
+One lies, in German, would one courteous be. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES 
+(wheeling his chair still nearer to the proscenium, to the speo 
+tators). 
+Up here am I deprived of light and air: 
+Shall I find shelter down among you there? 
+
+
+BACCALAUREUS. 
+It is presumptuous, that one will try 
+Still to be something, when the time’s gone by. 
+Man’s life lives in his blood, and where, in sooth, 
+So stirs the blood as in the veins of youth ? 
+There living blood in freshest power pulsates, 
+And newer life from its own life creates. 
+Then something’s done, then moves and works the man; 
+The weak fall out, the sturdy take the van. 
+While half the world beneath our yoke is brought, 
+What, then, have you accomplished? Nodded — 
+thought — 
+Dreamed, and considered — plan, and always plan! 
+Age is an ague-fever, it is clear, 
+With chills of moody want and dread; 
+When one has passed his thirtieth year, 
+One then is just the same as dead.‘ 
+’"T were best, betimes, to put you out o’ the way. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+The Devil, here, has nothing more to say. 
+
+
+BACCALAUREUS. 
+Save through my will, no Devil can there be. 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT I. 93 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (aside). 
+The Devil, though, will trip thee presently ! 
+
+
+BACCALAUREUS. 
+
+
+This is Youth’s noblest calling and most fit! 
+The world was not, ere I created it; 
+The sun I drew from out the orient sea; 
+The moon began her changeful course with me; 
+The Day put on his shining robes, to greet me; 
+The Earth grew green, and burst in flower to meet me, 
+And when I beckoned, from the primal night 
+The stars unveiled their splendors to my sight. 
+Who, save myself, to you deliverance brought 
+From commonplaces of restricted thought? 
+I, proud and free, even as dictates my mind, 
+Follow with joy the inward light I find, 
+And speed along, in mine own ecstasy, 
+Darkness behind, the Glory leading me ! 
+[ Exit 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Go hence, magnificent Original ! — 
+What grief on thee would insight cast! 
+Who can think wise or stupid things at all, 
+That were not thought already in the Past? 
+Yet even from him we ’re not in special peril ; 
+He will, erelong, to other thoughts incline : 
+The must may foam absurdly in the barrel, 
+Nathless it turns at last to wine. 
+(Zo the younger parterre, which does not applaud.) 
+
+
+My words, I see, have left you cold ; 
+For you, my children, it may fall so: 
+Consider now, the Devil’s old; 
+
+To understand him, be old also! 
+
+
+94 FAUST. 
+
+
+II. 
+
+
+LABORATORY. 
+
+
+After the manner of the Middle Ages ; extensive, pondtrom 
+apparatus for fantastic purposes. 
+
+
+WAGNER (at the furnace). 
+i Nese loud bell chimes with feazful clangor, 
+The sooty walls feel the vibration ; 
+Soon must the long suspense be ended 
+Of my most earnest expectation. 
+It shines, the darknesses are rended: 
+Within the phial’s inmost chamber 
+It gleams, as doth a living ember, — 
+Yea, a carbuncle, burning, bright’ning, | 
+It rays the darkness with its lightning. 
+Now white and clear the lustres blend! 
+O that I hold, nor lose it more ! 
+Ah, God! what rattles at the door? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (entering). 
+Welcome! I mean it as a friend. 
+
+
+WAGNER (anxiously). 
+Be welcome to the planet of the hour! 
+(Whisperinyg.) 
+Yet breath and speech suspend! <A work of power, 
+A splendid work, will soon be here displayed. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (whispering). 
+What is it, then ? 
+
+
+ACT 17. 95 
+
+
+WAGNER (whispering). 
+A man is being made. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Aman? And what enamored pair 
+Have you within the chimney hidden? 
+
+
+WAGNER. 
+
+
+Nay, God forbid! This procreation is most rare: 
+
+Of the old, senseless mode we ’re now well ridden. 
+The tender point, whence Life commenced its course, 
+The outward stress of gracious inward force, 
+
+Which took and gave, itself delineating, 
+
+First near, then foreign traits assimilating, 
+
+We now of all its dignity divest : 
+
+The beast therein may further find a zest, 
+
+But Man must learn, with his great gifts, to win 
+Henceforth a purer, loftier origin. 
+
+
+( Turning towards the furnace.) 
+
+
+It brightens, —see! Sure, now, my hopes increase 
+That if, from many hundred substances, 
+
+Through mixture — since on mixture all depends — 
+The human substance gently be compounded, 
+
+And by a closed retort surrounded, 
+
+Distilled, and fed, and slowly founded, 
+
+Then in success the secret labor ends. 
+
+
+(Again turning towards the furnace.) 
+
+
+'T will be! the mass is working clearer ! 
+Conviction gathers, truer, nearer ! 
+
+The mystery which for Man in Nature lies 
+We dare to test, by knowledge led; 
+
+And that which she was wont to organize 
+We crystallize, instead. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+96 FAUST. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Who lives, learns many secrets to unravel ; 
+
+For him, upon this earth, there ’s nothing new can be: 
+I’ve seen already, in my years of travel, 
+
+Much crystallized humanity. 
+
+
+WAGNER 
+(up to this time continuously attentive to the phial). 
+It mounts, it lightens, grows, —’t is won! 
+A moment more, and it is done! 
+Insane, at first, appears a great intent; 
+We yet shall laugh at chance in generation ; 
+A brain like this, for genuine thinking meant, 
+Will henceforth be a thinker’s sure creation. 
+(Rapturously inspecting the phial.) 
+The glass vibrates with sweet and powerful tone ; 
+It darkens, clears: it must arrive at being! 
+And now in delicate shape is shown 
+A pretty manikin, moving, living, seeing! 
+What more can we, what more the world demand ? 
+The secret, solved, all men may reach: 
+Hark! as the ringing tones expand, 
+They form a voice, result in speech. 
+
+
+HOMUNCULUS 9 
+
+(i the phial, to WAGNER). 
+How goes it, Daddy? It was then no jest! 
+Come, press me tenderly upon thy breast! 
+But not too hard, for fear the glass might shatter! 
+This is the quality of matter: 
+For what is natural, scarce the world has place; 
+What’s artificial, needs restricted space. 
+
+(7o MEPHISTOPHELES. ) 
+
+Thou rogue, Sir Cousin! here I find thee, too? 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT Il. 97 
+
+
+And at the proper time! My thanks are cue: 
+A lucky fortune led thee here to me; 
+
+Since I exist, then I must active be. 
+
+I'd fain begin my work without delay : 
+
+Thou art adroit in shortening my way. 
+
+
+WAGNER. 
+But first, a word! I’m shamed that answers fail me; 
+For old and young with problems so assail me. 
+Now, for example, none e’er comprehended 
+How soul and body wedded are and blended, — 
+Hold fast, as if defying separation, 
+Yet never cease their mutual irritation. 
+Therefore — 
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+Desist! I’d rather ask him why 
+The man and wife agree so wretchedly. 
+To thee, my friend, the thing will ne’er be clear: 
+There ’s work to do: for that the little fellow ’s here. 
+
+
+HOMUNCULUS. 
+What’s to be done? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES ( pointing to a side-door). 
+Thy talents here employ ! 
+
+
+WAGNER (still gasing at the phial). 
+Forsooth, thou art the very loveliest boy ! 
+(Zhe side-door opens: FAUST is seen stretched out upon a couch.) 
+
+
+HOMUNCULUS (astonished). 
+Significant ! — 
+(Zhe phial slips out of WAGNER’S hands, hovers over FAUST, 
+and shines upon him.) 
+Fair scenery !©@ — Waters, moving 
+VOL. II. 5 G 
+
+
+98 FAUST. 
+
+
+
+
+
+In forest shadows: women there, undressing, 
+
+The loveliest forms !— the picture is improving. 
+One, marked by beauty, splendidly expressing 
+Descent from Gods or high heroic races, 
+
+Now dips her foot in the translucent shimmer : 
+The living flame of her sweet form displaces 
+
+The yielding crystal, cool around the swimmer. 
+But what a sound of wings! What rapid dashing 
+Across the glassy pool, what fluttering, splashing ! 
+The maidens fly, alarmed; but only she, 
+
+The queen, looks on, composed and terror-free, | 
+And sees with proud and womanly delight | 
+The swan-prince press her knee with plumage white, 
+
+Importunately tame: he grows acquainted. — 
+
+But all at once floats up a vapor pale, 
+
+And covers with its closely-woven veil 
+
+The loveliest picture ever dreamed or painted. 
+
+
+
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+How much hast thou to tell, — what stories merry! 
+So small thou art, so great a visionary ! 
+Nothing see I! — 
+
+
+HOMUNCULUS. 
+
+
+Of course. Thou, from the North, 
+And in the age of mist brought forth, 
+In knighthood’s and in priestcraft’s murky den, 
+How should thy sight be clearer, then ? 
+In gloom alone art thou at home. 
+
+(Gazing around.) 
+Brown masonry, repellent, crumbling slowly, 
+Arch-pointed, finical, fantastic, lowly !— 
+If this man wakes, another danger ’s nigh; 
+At once upon the spot he ’ll die. 
+Wood-fountains, swans, and naked beauties, 
+
+
+ACT I. 99 
+
+
+Such was his dream of presage fair: 
+
+How should these dark surroundings suit his 
+Desires, when them / scarce can bear ? 
+Away with him ! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+I hail the issue’s chances. 
+
+
+HOMUNCULUS. 
+Command the warrior to the fight, 
+Conduct the maiden to the dances, 
+And all is finished, as is right. 
+Just now — there breaks on me a light — 
+*T is Classical Walpurgis-Night ; 
+Whate’er may come, it is the best event, 
+So bring him to his proper element! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+The like of that I never heard one mention. 
+
+
+HOMUNCULUS. 
+
+
+How should it have attracted your attention? 
+Only romantic ghosts are known to you; 
+A genuine phantom must be classic too. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+But whitherward shall then we travel, tell me? 
+Your antique cronies in advance repel me. 
+
+
+HOMUNCULUS. 
+Northwestwards, Satan, is thy park and pale, 
+But we, this time, southeastwards sail. 
+Peneus, there, the great plain wanders through, 
+By thickets, groves, and silent coves, and meadow 
+
+
+grasses ; 
+
+
+100 FAUST. 
+
+
+The level stretches to the mountain passes, 
+And o’er it lies Pharsalus, old and new. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Alas! have done! Bring not that fell collision 
+
+Of tyrant and of slave before my vision ! 
+
+I’m tired of that: for scarcely is it done 
+
+Than they the same thing have again begun; 
+
+And no one marks that he’s the puppet blind 
+
+Of sly Asmédi, lurking there behind. 
+
+They fight, we ’re told, their freedom’s right to save; 
+But, clearlier seen, ’t is slave that fights with slave. 
+
+
+HOMUNCULUS, 
+
+
+Leave unto men their fractiousness and clatter: 
+Each must protect himself, as best he can, 
+From boyhood up, and thus becomes a man. 
+How this one shall recover, is our matter. 
+
+Hast thou a method, let it tested be! 
+
+But hast thou none, so leave the case to me! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+There ’s many a Brocken-method I might try, 
+But pagan bolts, I find, the way deny. 
+
+The Grecian race was little worth, alway ; 
+
+It dazzles with the senses’ freer play, 
+
+To cheerful sins the heart of man entices; 
+While ours are ever counted gloomy vices. 
+Now, what shall be ? 
+
+
+HOMUNCULUS. 
+Shyness was ne’er thy blame. 
+When I to thee Thessalian witches name, 
+I ’ve not said nothing, that I know. 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT 1. 101 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (/ust/ully). 
+
+
+Thessalian witches! Well! The persons, those, 
+Whom I inquired for, long ago. 
+
+Night after night beside them to repose, 
+
+I think would hardly suit: but so, 
+
+° A mere espial, trial, — 
+
+
+HOMUNCULUS. 
+
+
+Here! cast o’er 
+The knight your magic mantle, and infold him ! 
+The rag will still, as heretofore, 
+Upon his airy course —and thine —uphold him. 
+I ll light the way. 
+
+
+WAGNER (anxiously). 
+And I? 
+
+
+HOMUNCULUS. 
+
+
+Eh? You 
+Will stay at home, most weighty work to do. 
+Unfold your ancient parchments, and collect 
+Life’s elements as your recipes direct, 
+One to the other with due caution fitting. 
+The Waa? consider, more the How and Why / 
+Meanwhile, about the world at random flitting, 
+I may detect the dot upon the “I.”® 
+The lofty aim will then accomplished be; 
+Such an endeavor merits such requital: 
+Gold, honor, glory, healthy forces vital, 
+And science, too, and virtue, — possibly. 
+Farewell ! 
+
+
+WAGNER (sorrowfully). 
+
+
+Farewell! It doth depress my heart: 
+I fear, alreacy, we forever part. 
+
+
+102 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Down to Peneus, with his aid! 
+Sir Cousin is a deft attendant. 
+(Ad spectatores.) 
+Upon the creatures we have made 
+We are, ourselves, at last, dependent. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT I. 103 
+
+
+ITI. 
+CLASSICAL WALPURGIS-NIGHT.& 
+
+
+I. 
+THE PHARSALIAN FIELDS. 
+Darkness. 
+
+
+ERICHTHO. 
+
+
+fe this night’s awful festival, as oft before, 
+
+I enter here, Erichtho, I, the gloomy one: 
+
+Not so atrocious as the evil poets draw, 
+
+In most superfluous slander — for they never cease 
+
+Their blame or praises . . . Over-whitened I behold 
+
+The vale, with waves of tents that glimmer gray afar, 
+
+The after-vision of that fatal, fearful night. 
+
+How oft is it repeated ! — will forever be 
+
+Forever re-enacted! No one grants the realm 
+
+Unto another: unto him whose might achieved 
+
+And rules it, none ; for each, incompetent to rule 
+
+His own internal self, is all too fain to sway 
+
+His neighbor’s will, even as his haughty mind inclines. 
+
+But here a lesson grand was battled to the end, 
+
+How force resists and grapples with the greater force, 
+
+The lovely, thousand-blossomed wreath of Freedom 
+rends, 
+
+And bends the stubborn laurel round the Ruler’s brow. 
+
+Here, of his days of early greatness Pompey dreamed: 
+
+Before the trembling balance Cesar yonder watched! 
+
+It will be weighed : the world knows unto whom it turned. 
+
+
+104 FAUST. 
+
+
+The watch-fires flash and glow, spendthrift of ruddy 
+flame ; 
+
+Reflections of the squandered blood the earth exhales, 
+
+And, lured by rare and marvellous splendor of the night, 
+
+The legion of Hellenic legends gathers here. 
+
+Round all the fires uncertain hover, or at ease 
+
+Sit near them, fabulous forms of ancient days. ... 
+
+The moon, imperfect, truly, but of clearest beam, 
+
+Arises, scattering mellow radiance everywhere : 
+
+Vanish the phantom tents, the fires are burning blue. 
+
+
+But o’er my head what unexp:cted meteor! 
+
+It shines, illuminates the sphere of earth below. 
+
+I scent the Living! therefore it becomes me not 
+
+Them to approach, I being harmful unto them : 
+
+An evil name it brings me, and it profits naught. 
+Already now it sinks: discreatly \ withdraw. 
+
+[Zxit 
+The Airy Trevellers ~bove. 
+
+
+HOMUNCULUS. 
+Once again the circle follow, 
+O’er the flames and horrors hover! 
+
+
+Ghostly ’t is in vale and hollow, 
+Spectral all that we discover 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+If, as through my window nightly 
+In the grewsome North, I see 
+Spectres hideous and unsightly, 
+Here is home, as there, to me. 
+
+
+HOMUNCULUS. 
+
+
+See! a tall one there is striding 
+On before us, in the shade. 
+
+
+ACT I1. 105 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Through the air she saw us gliding, 
+And it seems she is afraid. 
+
+
+HOMUNCULUS, 
+Let her stride! The knight be taken 
+Now, and set upon the strand: 
+Here to life again he ’ll waken, 
+Seeking it in fable-land. 
+
+
+FAUST (as he touches the earth). 
+Where is she ?— 
+
+
+HOMUNCULUS, 
+It ’s more than we can tell, 
+But to inquire would here be well. 
+Thou ’rt free to hasten, ere the day, 
+From flame to flame, and seek her so: 
+Who to the Mothers found his way, 
+Has nothing more to undergo. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+I also claim my share in the excursion ; 
+Yet know no better plan for our diversion, 
+Than that each one, amid these fires, 
+Should seek such fortunes as he most desires. 
+Then, as a sign to reunite us, 
+Let, little one, thy lantern sound and light us ! 
+
+
+HOMUNCULUS. 
+Thus shall it shine, and thus shall ring! 
+( The glass shines and rings powerfully.) 
+
+
+And now, away to many a marvellous thing! 
+c® 
+
+
+106 FAUST. 
+
+
+FAUST (so/us). 
+
+
+Where is she? — But no further question make { 
+If this were not the soil that bore her feet, 
+If not the wave that to her coming beat, 
+Yet ’t is the air that knows the tongue she spake. 
+Here, by a marvel! Here, on Grecian land! * 
+I felt at once the earth whereon I stand. 
+Through me, the sleeper, fresher spirit stealing, 
+I rise refreshed, Antzus in my feeling. 
+Together here I find the strangest store ; 
+Let me this labyrinth of flames explore. 
+[Goes away 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES ( prying around). 
+
+
+And as among these fires I wander, aimless, 
+
+I find myself so strange, so disconcerted : © 
+
+Quite naked most, a few are only shirted ; 
+
+The Griffins insolent, the Sphinxes shameless, 
+
+And what not all, with pinions and with tresses, 
+Before, behind, upon one’s eyesight presses ! — 
+Indecency, ’t is true, is our ideal, 
+
+But the Antique is too alive and real; 
+
+One must with modern thought the thing bemaster, 
+And in the fashion variously o’erplaster :— 
+Disgusting race! Yet I, perforce, must meet them, 
+And as new guest with due decorum greet them. — 
+Hail, then, Fair Ladies! Graybeards wise, good cheer: 
+
+
+GRIFFIN (snarling). 
+
+
+Not graybeards! Graybeards? No one likes to hear 
+One call him gray. For in each word there rings 
+
+The source, wherefrom its derivation springs.” 
+
+Gray, growling, grewsome, grinning, graves, and grimly 
+Etymologically accord, nor dimly, = - 
+
+And make us grim. 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT II. 107 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+And yet, why need you stiffen ? 
+You like the gv#f in your proud title, “ Griffin.” 
+GRIFFIN 
+(as above, and continuously so). 
+Of course! for this relation is found fit; 
+Though often censured, oftener praised was it. 
+
+
+Let one but g7zf at maidens, crowns, and gold : 
+Fortune is gracious to the Griper bold. 
+
+
+ANTS 
+(of the colossal kind). 
+You speak of gold, much had ourselves collected ; 
+In rocks‘and caverns secretly we trapped it: 
+The Arimaspean race our store detected, — 
+They ’re laughing now, so far away they ’ve snapped it, 
+
+
+¢ THE GRIFFINS. 
+We soon shall force them to confess. 
+
+
+THE ARIMASPEANS.® 
+
+
+But not in this free night of jubilee. 
+Before the morrow, all will squandered be ; 
+This time our efforts will obtain success. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES 
+(who has seated himself between the SPHINXES) 
+
+
+How soon I feel familiar here, among you! 
+I understand you, one and all. 
+
+
+SPHINX. 
+
+
+Our spirit-tones, when we have sung you, 
+Become, for you, material. 
+Now name thyself, till we shall know thee better. 
+
+
+108 FAUST. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+With many names would men my nature fetter. 
+
+Are Britons here? So round the world they wheel, 
+To stare at battle-fields, historic traces, | 
+Cascades, old walls, and classic dreary places; 
+
+And here were something worthy of their zeal. 
+
+Their Old Plays also testify of me ; 
+
+Men saw me there as “ Old Iniquity.” 
+
+
+
+
+
+SPHINX. 
+How did they hit on that? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+I know not, verily. | 
+
+
+- SPHINX. 
+
+
+Perhaps! Hast thou in star-lore any power ? 
+What say’st thou of the aspects of the hour? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (/ooking up). 
+
+
+Star shoots on star, the cloven moon doth ride 
+In brilliance ; in this place I ’m satisfied: 
+
+I warm myself against thy lion’s hide. 
+
+It were a loss to rise from out these shades: — 
+Propose enigmas, or at least charades! 
+
+
+SPHINX. 
+
+
+Express thyself, and ’t will a riddle be.% 
+
+Try once thine own analysis: ’t were merry. 
+“To both Devout and Wicked necessary: 
+
+To those, a breast-plate for ascetic fighting ; 
+
+To these, boon-comrade, in their pranks uniting ; 
+And both amusing Zeus, the fun-delighting.” 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT II. 109 
+
+
+FIRST GRIFFIN (snarling). 
+I like not him! 
+
+
+SECOND GRIFFIN (snarling more gruffly). 
+What will the fellow here ? 
+
+
+BOTH. 
+The Nasty One is not of us, ’t is clear! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (édruéally). 
+Think’st thou, perhaps, thy guest has nails to scratch, 
+That with thy sharper talons cannot match ? 
+Just try it once! 
+
+
+SPHINX (gently). 
+Stay, shouldst thou find it well; 
+But from our ranks thou wilt thyself expel. 
+In thine own land thou ’rt wont thyself to pamper, 
+Yet here, I think, thy spirits feel a damper. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Thine upper part entices; naught is fairer ; 
+But, further down, the beast excites my terror. 
+
+
+SPHINX. 
+Bitter, False one, will be thy expiation ; 
+Our claws are sound and worthy proof, 
+But thou, with withered horse’s-hoof, 
+Art ill at ease in our association. 
+
+
+(Zhe SIRENS prelude above.) 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+On yonder poplars by the river, 
+What are the birds that swing above? 
+
+
+
+
+
+Ir0o FAUST. 
+
+
+SPHINX. 
+
+
+Beware! The very best that ever 
+Existed, they have lured to love. 
+
+
+SIRENS.” 
+
+
+Ah, why vitiate your senses, 
+
+Where those Uglinesses darken ? 
+We, in crowds, come hither: hearken 
+How the accordant strain commences, 
+Meet for Sirens’ soft pretences ! 
+
+
+SPHINXES 
+(mocking them, in the same melody). 
+
+
+Let them to descend be bidden! 
+
+In the branches they have hidden 
+Hideous falcon-claws they ’re wearing, 
+And you ’ll feel their cruel tearing, 
+Once you lend them willing ear. 
+
+
+SIRENS. 
+
+
+Banish hate and envy, rather! 
+
+We the purest pleasures gather, 
+Under Heaven’s auspicious sphere ! 
+On the earth and on the ocean, 
+
+We, with cheerful beckoning motion, 
+Bid the wanderer welcome here. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+These are of novelties the neatest, 
+
+Where from the throat and harp-string sweetest 
+The tones around each other twine. 
+
+They ’re lost on me, these tinkling trickles; 
+The sound my ear-drum pats and tickles, 
+
+But cannot reach this heart of mine. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT I. 11m 
+
+
+SPHINXES. 
+
+
+Speak not of heart! Fool, so to call it! 
+An old and wrinkled leathern wallet 
+Would better suit that face of thine. 
+
+
+FAUST (approaching). 
+
+
+How strange! I, satisfied, behold these creatures, ~ 
+In the Repulsive, grand and solid features : 7 
+
+A fate propitious I behold advance. 
+
+Whither transports me now this solemn glance ? 
+
+
+(Pointing to the SPHINXES.) 
+Once before these took CEdipus his stand: 
+(Pointing to the SIRENS ) 
+These made Ulysses writhe in hempen band: 
+(Pointing to the ANTS.) 
+By these the highest treasure was amassed : 
+( Pointing to the GRIFFINS, ) 
+
+
+By these ’t was held inviolate and fast: 
+Fresh spirit fills me, face to face with these — 
+Grand are the Forms, and grand the Memories! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Once thou hadst cursed such crude antiques, 
+But now, it seems, they ’ve comfort given ; 
+For when a man his sweetheart seeks, 
+Welcome to him are monsters, even. 
+
+
+FAUST (fo the SPHINXES). 
+Ye woman-forms, give ear, and say 
+Hath one of you seen Helena? 
+SPHINXES. 
+
+
+Before her day our line expired in Greece ; 
+Our very last was slain by Hercules : 
+
+
+112 FAUST. 
+
+
+Yet ask of Chiron, if thou please. 
+He gallops round throughout this ghostly night, 
+And if he halt for thee, thy chance is bright. 
+
+
+SIRENS. 
+
+
+Thou art not to failure fated! 
+
+How Ulysses, lingering, learned us, 
+Nor, regardless passing, spurned us, 
+Manifold hath he narrated : 
+
+All to thee shall be confided, 
+Seekest thou our meads, divided 
+
+By the dark-green arms of Ocean. 
+
+
+SPHINX. 
+
+
+Let not thyself thus cheated be! 
+
+Not like Ulysses bound, — but we 
+
+Will with good counsel thee environ: 
+
+If thou canst find the noble Chiron, 
+
+Thou ‘It learn what I have promised thee. 
+
+
+[FAUST goes away, 
+MEPHISTOPHELES (i//-temperedly). 
+
+
+What croaks and flaps of wings go past! 
+One cannot see, they fly so fast, 
+
+In single file, from first to last: 
+
+A hunter would grow tired of these. 
+
+
+SPHINX. 
+
+
+The storm-wind like, that winter harrows, 
+Reached hardly by Alcides’ arrows, 
+They are the swift Stymphalides ; 
+
+And not ill-meant their greetings creak, 
+With goose’s foot and vulture’s beak. 
+They fain would join us in our places, 
+And show themselves as kindred races. 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT Ul. 113 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (as if intimidated). 
+Some other brute is hissing shrill. 
+
+
+SPHINX. 
+
+
+Be not afraid, though harsh the pan! 
+
+They are the hydra-heads, the old Lernzan, 
+
+Cut from the trunk, yet think they ’re something still. 
+But say, what means your air distressed ? 
+
+Why show your gestures such unrest ? 
+
+Where will you go? Then take your leave! 
+
+That chorus, there, I now perceive, 
+
+Turns like a weathercock your neck. Advance!— 
+Greet as you will each lovely countenance ! 
+
+They are the Lamiz, wenches vile, 
+
+With brazen brows and lips that smile, 
+
+Such as the satyr-folk have found so fair: 
+
+A cloven foot may venture all things there. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+But stay you here, that I again may find you? 
+
+
+SPHINX. 
+
+
+Yes! Join the airy rabble, there behind you! 
+From Egypt we, long since, with all our peers, 
+Accustomed were to reign a thousand years. 
+If for our place your reverence be won, 
+We rule for you the days of Moon and Sun. 
+We sit before the Pyramids 
+For the judgment of the Races, 
+Inundation, War, and Peace, — 
+With eternal changeless faces. 
+
+
+114 FAUST. 
+
+
+II. 
+PENEUS 
+
+
+(surrounded with NYMPHS and Tributary Streams). 
+
+
+PENEUS.” 
+
+
+TIR yourselves, ye whispering rushes, 
+Rustle, slender willow-bushes, 
+Sister reeds, breathe softer, crisper, 
+Trembling poplar-branches, whisper 
+To the interrupted dream! 
+Fearful premonitions wake me, 
+Secret shudders thrill and shake me 
+In my rippling, sleeping stream. 
+
+
+FAUST (advancing to the river), 
+
+
+Here, behind the vines that dangle 
+O’er the thicket’s bowery tangle, 
+
+If I heard aright, were noises 
+Similar to human voices. 
+
+Babbling seemed the wave to patter, 
+And the breeze in sport to chatter. 
+
+
+NYMPHS (¢o Faust). 
+
+
+For thee were it better 
+
+To lie here, reviving 
+
+In coolness thy body, 
+Outwearied with striving, — 
+The rest, that eludes thee, 
+To taste, and be free: 
+We'll rustle and murmur, 
+And whisper to thee. 
+
+
+ACT Il. © 115 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Iam awake! Let them delay me, 
+
+The incomparable Forms !— and sway me, 
+As yonder to my sight confessed ! 
+
+How strangely am I moved, how nearly ! 
+Are they but dreams ? or memories, merely? 
+Already once was I so blest. 
+
+Beneath the swaying bushes hiding, 
+
+The full, fresh waves are softly gliding ; 
+They scarcely rustle on their path: 
+
+A hundred founts from all sides hasten, 
+To fill a pure and sparkling basin, 
+
+The hollowed level of a bath. 
+
+The fair young limbs of women trouble 
+The watery glass that makes them double, 
+And doubles, thus, the eye’s delight : 
+
+In joyous bath each other aiding, 
+
+Or boldly swimming, shyly wading, 
+
+Then cry, and splash, and foamy fight. 
+
+It were enough, the picture viewing, — 
+My healthy eyesight here renewing, — 
+
+Yet I desire the still unseen. 
+
+My gaze would pierce through vonder cover, 
+Whose leafy wealth is folded over 
+
+The vision of the stately Queen. 
+
+
+Strange! across the crystal skimming, 
+From the coves the swans are swimming, 
+Moving in majestic state: 
+
+Floating calmly and united, 
+
+But how proud and self-delighted, 
+
+Head and neck they lift elate!... 
+
+One, his feathers proudly plum‘ng, 
+Boldly sn his grace presuming, 
+
+Leads the others in the race; 
+
+
+116 FA UST. 
+
+
+With his whitest plumage showing 
+Wave-like on the wave he’s throwing, 
+Speeds he to the sacred place... . 
+
+The others back and forth together 
+Swim on with smoothly shining feather, 
+And soon, in mimic battle met, 
+
+Shall chase aside the maids affrighted, 
+Till, for their own protection slighted, 
+Their bounden service they forget. 
+
+
+NYMPHS. 
+
+
+Sisters, bend and lay the ear 
+
+On the turf beside the river! 
+Sound of hoofs, if right I hear, 
+Swift approaching, seems to shiver. 
+Would I knew whose rapid flight 
+Brings a message to the Night ! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+As I think, the earth is ringing 
+From a charger, hither springing. 
+See there! See there! 
+A fortune comes, most fair: 
+Shall I attain its blessing ? 
+O, marvel past expressing ! 
+A rider trots towards us free : 
+Spirit and strength in him I see, — 
+Upon a snow-white steed careering. ... 
+I know him now, I hail with awe 
+The famous son of Philyra! — 
+Halt, Chiron, halt! I’ve something for thy hearing, 
+
+
+CHIRON.73 
+What then? What is it? 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT UW. oar 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Thy course delay! 
+
+
+CHIRON. 
+I rest not. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Take me with thee, then, I pray! 
+
+
+CHIRON. 
+
+
+Mount! and I thus can ask, at leisure, 
+Whither thy way. Thou standest on the shore ; 
+I ‘ll bear thee through the flood, with pleasure. 
+
+
+FAUST (mounting). 
+
+
+Whither thou wilt. I thank thee evermore. ... 
+
+The mighty man, the pedagogue, whose place 
+
+And fame it was, to teach a hero-race, — 
+
+The splendid circle of the Argonauts, 
+
+And all whose deeds made quick the Poet’s thoughts. 
+
+
+CHIRON. 
+We will not further speak of these! 
+As Mentor even Pallas is not venerated ; 
+And, after all, they manage as they please, 
+As if they ’d not been educated. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+The leech, who knoweth flower and fruit, 
+Whose lore can sound the deepest root, — 
+Who heals the sick, and soothes the wounded place, 
+Him, here, in mind and body I embrace! 
+
+
+CHIRON. 
+
+
+When heroes, near me, felt the smart, 
+My helpful knowledge failed them seldom ; 
+
+
+
+
+
+18 FAUST. 
+
+
+But, at the last, I left mine art 
+To priest and simple-gathering beldam. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Thy speech the true great man betrays, 
+Who cannot hear a word of praise ; 
+His modesty would fain confound us 
+To think his equals still were round us. 
+
+
+CHIRON. 
+
+
+‘Thou seemest skilled to feign such matter — 
+People and Prince alike to flatter. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+But surely thou wilt grant to me 
+
+That thou the greatest of thy time didst see, 
+
+Upon their paths of proud achievement trod, 
+
+And lived thy days, a serious demigod. 
+
+Among those grand, heroic forms of old, 
+
+Whom didst thou for the best and worthiest hold? 
+
+
+CHIRON. 
+
+
+Of those beneath the Argonauts’ bright banner, 
+Each worthy was in his peculiar manner, 
+
+And by the virtue of his strength selective 
+Sufficed therein, where others were defective. 
+Castor and Pollux were as victors hailed, 
+Where beauty and the grace of youth prevailed: 
+Decision, the swift deed for others’ aid, 
+
+Gave the fair crown before the Boreads laid : 
+Reflective, prudent, strong, in council wise, 
+
+So Jason ruled, delight of women’s eyes: 
+
+Then Orpheus, gentle, silent, brooding, lowering, 
+But when he struck the lyre, all-overpowering. 
+Sharp-sighted Lynceus, who by day and dark 
+
+
+ACT II. 119 
+
+
+Through shoreward breakers steered the sacred bark. 
+Danger is best endured where men are brothers ; 
+When one achieves, then praise him all the others, 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+But Hercules thy speech is wronging — 
+
+
+CHIRON. 
+
+
+Ah, me ! awaken not my longing!... 
+I had not seen, in Fields Elysian, 
+How Pheebus, Arés, Hermes, shine; 
+But there arose before my vision 
+
+’ A form that all men called divine. 
+
+A king by birth, as ne’er another, 
+
+A youth magnificent to view ; 
+Though subject to his elder brother, 
+And to the loveliest women, too. 
+
+No second such hath Gea granted,7 
+Or Hebe led to Heaven again ; 
+
+For him the songs are vainly chanted, 
+The marble hewn for him in vain. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Though ever to his form addicted, 
+
+His grace the sculptors could not wreak. 
+The fairest Man hast thou depicted, 
+Now of the fairest Woman speak ! 
+
+
+CHIRON. 
+
+
+What !— Little worth is woman’s beauty, 
+So oft an image dumb we see: 
+
+I only praise, in loving duty, 
+
+A being bright and full of glee. 
+
+For Beauty in herself delighteth; 
+
+And irresistibly she smiteth 
+
+
+120 FAUST. 
+
+
+When sweetly she with Grace uniteth, 
+Like Helena, when her I bore. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Her didst thou bear ? 
+
+
+CHIRON. 
+This back she pressed, 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Was I not wild enough, before ? 
+And now such seat, to make me blest! 
+
+
+CHIRON. 
+Just so she grasped me by the hair 
+As thou dost. 
+FAUSt. 
+
+
+O, I scarcely dare 
+To trust my senses ! — tell me more ! 
+She is my only aspiration ! 
+Whence didst thou bear her — to what shore ? 
+
+
+CHIRON. 
+
+
+Not difficult is the relation. 
+
+*T was then, when came the Dioscuri bold 
+
+To free their sister from the robbers’ hold; 
+
+But these, accustomed not to be subdued, 
+Regained their courage and in rage pursued. 
+
+The swamps below Eleusis did impede 
+
+The brothers’ and the sister’s flying speed : 
+
+The brothers waded: splashing through the reed, 
+I swam: then off she sprang, and pressing me 
+On the wet mane, caressing me, 
+
+She thanked with sweetly-wise and conscious tongue. 
+How charming was she ! — dear to age, so young! 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT I. 12% 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+But seven years old! — 
+
+
+CHIRON. 
+
+Philologists, I see, 
+Even as they cheat themselves, have cheated thee. 
+*T is curious with your mythologic dame : 75 
+The Poet takes her when he needs her name; 
+She grows not old, stays ever young and warm, 
+And of the most enticing form ; 
+Seduced in youth, in age enamoring still, — 
+Enough! no time can bind the Poet’s will. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Then let no bonds of Time be thrown around her! 
+Even as on Phere’s isle Achilles found her, 
+Beyond the bounds of Time. What blessing rare, 
+In spite of Fate such love to win and wear ! 
+
+And shall not I, by mightiest desire, 
+
+Unto my life that sole fair form acquire, 
+
+That shape eternal, peer of Gods above, 
+
+Tender as grand, sublime as sweet with love ? 
+Thou saw’st her once; f0-day I saw her beam, 
+The dream of Beauty, beautiful as Dream ! 
+
+My soul, my being, now is bound and chained ; 
+
+I cannot live, unless she be attained. 
+
+
+CHIRON. 
+
+
+Thou, Stranger ! feel’st, as man, such ecstasy ; 
+Among us, Spirits, mad thou seem’st to be. 
+
+Yet, as it haps, thy fortune now is omened ; 
+
+For every year, though only for a moment, 
+
+It is my wont to call at Manto’s dwelling, — 
+
+She, Esculapius’ child, whose prayers are swelling 
+Unto her father, that, his fame to brighten, 
+
+VOL. II. 6 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+122 FAUST. 
+
+
+The brains of doctors he at last enlighten, 
+
+And them from rashly dealing death may frighten. 
+I like her best of all the guild of Sibyls, — 
+
+Heipful and kind, with no fantastic fribbles ; 
+
+She hath the art. if thou the time canst borrow, 
+With roots of power to give thee healing thorough. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+But I will not be healed! my aim is mighty: 
+I will not be, like others, meanly flighty ! 
+
+
+CHIRON. 
+
+
+The noble fountain’s cure neglect thou not: 
+But quick dismount! We ’ve reached the spot. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+And whither, in this dreary night, hast thou 
+To land through pebbly rivers brought me now? 
+
+
+CHIRON. 
+
+
+Here Rome and Greece in battle tried their powers ; 
+Here flows Peneus, there Olympus towers, — 
+
+The greatest realm that e’er was lost in sand. 
+
+The monarch flies, the conquering burghers stand. 
+Look up and see, in moonlight shining clear, 
+
+The memorable, eternal Temple near! 
+
+
+MANTO” (dreaming within). 
+From horse-hoofs tremble 
+The sacred steps of the Temple! 
+The Demigods draw near. 
+
+
+CHIRON. 
+Quite right ! 
+Open your eyes, and see who’s here! 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT I. 123 
+
+
+MANTO (awaking). 
+Welcome! Thou dost not fail, 1 see. 
+
+
+CHIRON. 
+And still thy temple stands for thee! 
+
+
+MANTO. 
+And speedest thou still unremitting ? 
+
+
+CHIRON. 
+
+
+And thou in peaceful calm art sitting, 
+While 1 rejoice in restless heels ? 
+
+
+MANTO. 
+I wait, and Time around me wheels. 
+And he? 
+
+CHIRON. 
+
+
+The vortex of this night 
+Hath whirled him hither to thy sight. 
+Helen, with mad, distracted senses, 
+Helen he ’d win by all pretences, 
+And knows not how or where the task commences ; 
+But he deserves the Esculapian cure. 
+
+
+MANTO. 
+
+
+To whom the Impossible is lure 
+I love. 
+(CHIRON és already far away.) 
+
+
+Rash one, advance! there ’s joy for thee! 
+This dark way leads thee to Persephone. 
+Under Olympus’ hollow foot, 
+Secret, she waits prohibited salute. 
+I smuggled Orpheus in to her, of old: 
+Use thy chance better! On!—be bold! 
+| They descend. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+ITT. 
+
+
+ON THE UPPER PENEUS, AS BEFORE, 
+
+
+SIRENS. 
+
+LUNGE in cool Peneus’ wave! 
+
+There ’t is well to sport in swimming, 
+Songs with chorded voices hymning, 
+That the ill-starred folk we save. 
+Health is none where water fails ! 77 
+Let our hosts, with sounding pzan, 
+Hasten to the blue A°gzan, ; 
+Where each joy shall swell our sails. 
+
+( Earthquake.) 
+
+Back the frothy wave is flowing, 
+Now no longer downward going ; 
+Shakes the bed, the waters roar, 
+Cracks and smokes the stony shore. 
+Let us fly! Come, every one! 
+By this marvel profit none. 
+Leave, ye guests, this wild commotion 
+For the cheerful sports of Ocean, 
+Shining, where the quivering reaches, 
+Lightly heaving, bathe the beaches, — 
+There, where Luna’s double splendor 
+Freshens us with night-dews tender. 
+There the freest life delights us ; 
+Here the threatening Earthquake frights us: 
+Who is prudent, haste away! 
+Fearful is it, here to stay. 
+
+
+SEISMOS ® 
+(growling and jolting in the depths). 
+Once again the force applying, 
+Bravely with the shoulders prying, 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT I. 125 
+
+
+We to get above are trying, 
+Where to us must all give way. 
+
+
+SPHINXES. 
+
+
+What a most repulsive shaking, 
+Terrible and hideous quaking! 
+What a quivering and shocking, 
+Hither rolling, thither rocking ! 
+What vexation and dismay! 
+
+But we shall not change our station, 
+Were all Hell in agitation. ... 
+
+Now behold a dome upswelling, 
+Wonderful! °T is 4e, compelling, — 
+He, the hoary, antiquated, 
+
+' He who Delos’ isle created, 
+
+Bidding it from ocean break, 
+
+For the childed woman’s sake. 
+
+He, with all his force expended, 
+Rigid arms and shoulders bended, 
+Like an Atlas in his gesture 
+
+Pushes up the earth’s green vesture, 
+Loam and grit, and sand and shingle, 
+Where the shore and river mingle: 
+Thus our valley’s bosom quiet 
+Cross-wise tears he, in his riot. 
+
+In unwearied force defiant, 
+
+He, a caryatid-giant, 
+
+Bears a fearful weight of boulders, 
+Buried still below his shoulders ; 
+But no further shall be granted, 
+
+For the Sphinxes here are planted.» 
+
+
+SEISMOS. 
+
+
+The work alone I ’ve undertaken ; 
+The credit will be given to me: 
+
+
+426 FAUST. 
+
+
+Had I not jolted, shoved, and shaken, 
+
+How should this world so beauteous be ? 
+How stood aloft your mountains ever, 
+
+In pure and splendid blue of air, 
+
+Had I not heaved with huge endeavor 
+
+Till they, like pictures, charm you there? 
+When, where ancestral memory brightens, 
+Old Night and Chaos saw me sore betrayed, 
+And in the company of Titans 
+
+With Pelion and Ossa as with balls we played, 
+None could in ardent sport of youth surpass us, 
+Until, outwearied, at the last, 
+
+Even as a double cap, upon Parnassus 
+
+His summits wickedly we cast. 
+
+Apollo, now, upon that mount of wonder 
+Finds with the Muses his retreat: 
+
+For even Jove, and for his bolts of thunder, 
+I heaved and held the lofty seat. 
+
+Thus have I forced the fierce resistance 
+And struggled upward from the deep; 
+
+And summon now to new existence 
+
+The joyous dwellers of the steep. 
+
+
+SPHINXES. 
+
+
+’T is true, the hill would seem primeval, 
+
+And warranted of old to stand, 
+
+Had we not witnessed its upheaval, 
+
+Toiling and towering from the land. 
+
+A bushy forest, spreading, clothes its face, 
+And rocks on rocks are pressing to their place. 
+A Sphinx, therefrom, is by no fear o’ertaken : 
+We shall not let our sacred seats be shaken. 
+
+
+GRIFFINS.® 
+Gold in spangle, leaf, and spark 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT Il. 127 
+
+
+Glimmers through the fissures dark. 
+Quick, lest others should detect it, 
+Haste, ye Emmets, and collect it ! 
+
+
+CHORUS OF EMMETS. 
+
+
+As they, the giant ones, 
+Upward have thrown it, 
+Quick-footed, pliant ones, 
+Climb it and own it! 
+Rapidly in and out! 
+
+In each such fissure 
+
+Is every crumb about 
+Wealth for the wisher ! 
+Seek for them greedily, 
+Even the slightest : 
+Everywhere speedily 
+Gather the brightest ! 
+Diligent be, and bold — 
+Swarm to the fountain : 
+Only bring in the Gold! 
+Heed not the Mountain ! 
+
+
+GRIFFINS. 
+
+
+Come in! come in!— the treasure heap! 
+Our claws upon it we shall keep. 
+
+The most efficient bolts they are ; 
+
+The greatest wealth they safely bar. 
+
+
+PYGMIES. 
+
+
+Verily, here we sit securely ; 
+
+How it happened, is not clear. 
+
+Ask not whence we came ; for surely 
+’T is enough that we are here. 
+
+Unto Life ’s delighted dwelling 
+Suitable is every land ; 
+
+
+128 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Where a rifted rock is swelling, 
+
+Also is the Dwarf at hand. 
+
+Male and female, busy, steady, 
+
+We as models would suffice : 
+
+Who can tell if such already 
+
+Labored so in Paradise ? 
+
+Here our lot as best we measure, 
+
+And our star of fate is blest: 
+
+Mother Earth brings forth with pleasura, 
+In the East as in the West. 
+
+
+DACTYLS. 
+If she, in a single night, 
+The Pygmies brought to light, 
+Pygmiest of all she ll create yet, 
+And each find his mate yet! 
+
+
+PYGMY-ELDERS. 
+Be ye, in haste, 
+Conveniently placed ! 
+Labor, and lead 
+Strength unto speed ! 
+Peace is yet with ye, 
+Build now the smithy, — 
+The host be arrayed 
+With armor and blade! 
+Emmets, laborious, 
+Working victorious, 
+Scorning to settle, 
+Furnish us metal ! 
+Dactyls, your host, 
+Smallest and most, 
+Hear the requiring, 
+Bring wood for firing ! 
+Heap in the chambers 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT ff. 129 
+
+
+Fuel, untiring : 
+Furnish us embers! 
+
+
+GENERALISSIMO. 
+
+
+With arrow and bow, 
+Encounter the foe! 
+By yonder tanks 
+
+The heron-ranks, 
+
+The countless-nested, 
+The haughty-breasted, 
+At one quick blow 
+Shoot, and bring low ! 
+All together, 
+
+That we may feather 
+Our helmets so. 
+
+
+EMMETS AND DACTYLS. 
+
+
+Who now will save us! 
+We bring the iron, 
+And chains enslave us. 
+To break our fetters 
+Were now defiant ; 
+
+We bide our season, — 
+Meanwhile, be pliant ! 
+
+
+THE CRANES OF IBYCUS.™ 
+
+
+Murder-cries and moans of dying ! 
+Startled wings that flap in flying ! 
+What lament, what pain and fright 
+Pierces to our airy height ! 
+
+All have fallen in the slaughter, 
+Reddening with their blood the water 
+Pygmy-lust, misformed and cruel, 
+Robs the heron of his jewel. 
+
+On their helms the plumage waves, ~ 
+
+
+6* I 
+
+
+
+
+
+330 FAUST. 
+
+
+Yonder fat-paunched, bow-lecged knaves ! 
+Comrades of our files of motion, 
+Serried wanderers of ocean, 
+You we summon to requital 
+In a cause to you so vital. 
+Strength and blood let no one spare ! 
+Endless hate to them we swear ! 
+(They disperse, croaking in the asr.) 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (on the plain). 
+
+
+With ease the Northern witches I controlled, 
+
+But o’er these foreign sprites no power I hold. 
+
+The Blocksberg is a most convenient place ; 
+Howe’er one strays, one can his path retrace. 
+
+Dame Ilse watches for us from her stone,” 
+
+And Henry sits upon his mountain-throne : 
+
+The Snorers snarl at Elend — snorting peers, — 
+And all is finished for a thousand years. 
+
+But here, who knows if, even where he stand, 
+Beneath his feet may not puff up the land ? 
+
+I cheerily wander through a level glade, 
+
+And, all at once, behind me heaved, is made 
+
+A mountain — scarcely to be called so, true ; 
+
+Yet high enough the Sphinxes from my view 
+
+To intercept. ... Still many a fire flares out 
+
+Adown the vale, the mad concern about. ... 
+
+Still dance and hover, beckoning and retreating, 
+The gay groups round me, with their knavish greeting 
+But gently now! For, spoiled by stealthy pleasure, 
+One always seeks to snatch some dainty treasure. 
+
+
+LAMILE °3 
+(drawing MEPHISTOPHELES after them). 
+
+
+Quicker and quicker ! 
+And further take him! 
+
+
+ACT I. 131 
+
+
+Then hesitating, 
+Chattering and prating ! 
+*T is fun to make him — 
+Old, sinful Tricker ! — 
+Follow behind us : 
+
+To penance comes he 
+With halt-foot clumsy ; 
+He marches hobbling, 
+And forwards wobbling ; 
+His leg he trails 
+
+In haste to find us ; 
+
+We fly — he fails. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (standing still). 
+
+
+Accurséd fate! Deceived, as oft ! 
+
+Since Adam’s time seduced and scoffed ! 
+Though old we grow, not wisely schooled : 
+Enough already I ’ve been fooled ! 
+
+We know, how wholly worthless is the race, 
+With body corseted and painted face ; 
+
+Of health responsive own they not a tittle, 
+Where’er one grasps them, every limb is brittle. 
+The thing is known, and patent to our glances, 
+And yet, whene’er the trollops pipe, one dances. 
+
+
+LAMIZ ( pausing). 
+Halt! he reflects ; his steps delay: 
+Turn back to meet him, lest he get away ! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (striding forwards). 
+
+
+Forwards ! the doubt, my strength benumbing, 
+I won’t encourage foolishly ; 
+
+For were the witches not forthcoming, 
+
+Why, who the devil would Devil be! 
+
+
+132 
+
+
+FAUST.~ ; 
+
+
+LAMIA (very graciously), 
+Round this hero lightly moving, 
+Let his heart, the choice approving, 
+One of us select for loving ! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+True, in this uncertain lustre, 
+Seem ye fair maids, in a cluster; 
+Fain would I to you be juster. 
+
+
+EMPUSA ( pressing forwards). 
+
+
+Not me, too? I’m also fitted 
+In your train to be admitted ! 
+
+
+LAMIZ. 
+
+
+She ’s one too many ; for, in short, 
+She always ruins all our sport. 
+
+
+EMPUSA (to MEPHISTOPHELES). 
+
+
+Empusa, with the ass’s foot, 
+
+Thy cousin dear, gives thee salute ! 
+Only a horse’s hoof is thine, 
+
+And yet, Sir Cousin, greeting: fine ! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Strangers I here anticipated, 
+
+And find, alas! my near-related : 
+
+The old tale — instances by dozens — 
+From Hartz to Hellas always cousins ! 
+
+
+EMPUSA. 
+
+
+I act with promptness and decision ; 
+In many forms could meet thy vision > 
+Yet in thy honor now, instead, 
+
+Have I put on the ass’s head. 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT I. 133 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Great things, I see, are here portended, 
+Thus with the race as kinsman blended: 
+Let come what may, since I have known her — 
+The ass’s head — I ’d fain disown her. 
+
+
+LAMIZ. 
+
+
+Leave her, the Ugly! She doth scare 
+Whatever lovely seems and fair; 
+Whate’er was lovely, fair to see, 
+When she comes, ceases so to be. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+_ These cousins also, — soft, delicious, 
+Are one and all to me suspicious : 
+
+I fear, beneath their cheeks of roses 
+Some metamorphosis reposes. 
+
+
+LAMIZ. 
+
+
+But try — take hold! For we are many, 
+And if thou hast a lucky penny, 
+
+Secure thyself the highest prize ! 
+
+What means thy wanton organ-grinding ? 
+
+A wretched wooer ’t is, we ’re finding, 
+
+Yet swagger’st thus, and seem’st so wise! . oc 
+Now one of us will he lay hand on, 
+
+So by degrees your masks abandon, 
+
+And show your natures to his eyes ! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+The fairest here have I selected. ... 
+(Clasping her.) 
+O, what a broomstick, unexpected ! 
+(Grasping another.) 
+And this one?... Vilest countenance ! 
+
+
+334 FAUST. 
+
+
+LAMIA. 
+Think not thou ’rt worth a better chance! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+That little one, she warms my gizzard. ... 
+But through my hand she slips, a lizard ; 
+Her smooth braids, snaky-like, intwine. 
+
+I try the tall one, yet she worse is, — 
+
+I only grasp a Bacchic thyrsus, 
+
+The head a scaly cone of pine. 
+
+What follows next? Behold a fat one: 
+Perhaps I ’ll find delight in ¢Aa¢ one, 
+
+So, once for all, the chance renew ! 
+
+The Turks, for one so puffy, flabby, 
+Would pay a price by no means shabby... 
+But, ah! the puff-ball bursts in two! 
+
+
+LAMIZ£. 
+Now scatter widely, hovering, feigning, 
+In lightning-like, dark flight enchaining 
+The interloping witch’s-son ! 
+Uncertain circles, awful, poiseless ! 
+Horrid bat-wings, flying noiseless ! 
+He ’scapes too cheaply, when it’s done. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (shaking himself). 
+
+
+I ve not become, it seems, a great deal shrewder; 
+The North’s absurd, ’t is here absurder, ruder, 
+The spectres here preposterous as there, 
+
+People and poets shallow ware. 
+
+This masquerade resembles quite — 
+
+As everywhere — a dance of appetite. 
+
+I sought a lovely masked procession, 
+
+And caught such things, 1 stood aghast. ... 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT 11. 135 
+
+
+I’d give myself a false impression, 
+If this would only longer last. 
+
+
+(Losing himself among the rocks.) 
+
+
+Where am I then? and whither sped ? 
+
+There was a path; ’t isenow a dread. 
+
+By level ways I ’ve wandered hither, 
+
+Where rubble now is piled together. 
+
+I clamber up and down in vain; 
+
+Where shall I find my Sphinx again? 
+
+I had not dreamed so mad a sight, — 
+
+A mountain in a single night! 
+
+A bold witch-journey, to my thought: 
+
+Their Blocksberg with them they have brought. 
+
+
+OREAD (from the natural rock).° 
+
+
+Come up to me! My mountain old 
+
+In its primeval form behold! 
+
+Revere the steep and rocky stairs, ascending 
+
+Where Pindus’ offshoots with the plain are blending ! 
+Unshaken, thus I heaved my head 
+
+When o’er my shoulders Pompey fled. 
+
+Beside me this illusive rock 
+
+Will vanish at the crow of cock. 
+
+I see such fables oft upthrown, 
+
+And suddenly again go down. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Honor to thee, thou reverend Head, 
+With strength of oak engarlanded ! 
+The clearest moonlight never cleaves 
+The darkness of your crowded leaves. 
+I see between the bushes go 
+
+A light, with unpretending glow. 
+How all things fit and balance thus! 
+
+
+136 FAUST. 
+
+
+"T is verily Homunculus. 
+Now whence thy way, thou little lover ? 
+
+
+HOMUNCULUS. 
+
+
+From place to place I flit and hover, 
+
+And, in the best sense, I would*fain exist, 
+
+And most impatient am, my glass to shatter: 
+But what till now I ’ve witnessed, is ’t 
+
+Then strange if I mistrust the matter ? 
+
+Yet I ’ll be confidential, if thou list: 
+
+I follow two Philosophers this way. 
+
+*T was “ Nature!” “ Nature!” —all I heard them say; 
+I "ll cling to them, and see what they are seeing, 
+For they must understand this earthly being, 
+And I shall doubtless learn, in season, 
+
+Where to betake me with the soundest reason. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES., 
+Then do it of thy own accord! 
+For here, where spectres from their hell come, 
+Is the philosopher also welcome. 
+That so his art and favor delectate you, 
+At once a dozen new ones he ’ll create you. 
+Unless thou errest, thou wilt ne’er have sense ; 
+Wouldst thou exist, thyself the work commence ! 
+
+
+HOMUNCULUS. 
+Good counsel, also, is not to reject. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Then go thy way! We further will inspect. 
+[ They separate. 
+ANAXAGORAS (fo THALES). 
+
+
+Thy stubborn mind will not be rightened : 
+What else is needful, that thou be enlightened ? 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT JI. 137 
+
+
+THALES. 
+To every wind the billows yielding are ; 
+Yet from the cliff abrupt they keep themselves afar. 
+
+
+ANAXAGORAS. 
+By fiery vapors rose this rock you ’re seeing. 
+
+
+THALES. 
+In moisture came organic life to being. 
+
+
+HOMUNCULUS (éetween the two). 
+
+
+To walk with you may I aspire? 
+To come to being is my keen desire. 
+
+
+ANAXAGORUS. 
+
+
+Hast thou, O Thales! ever in a night 
+Brought forth from mud such mountain to the light? 
+
+
+THALES. 
+
+
+Nature, the living current of her powers, 
+
+Was never bound to Day and Night and Hours ; 
+She makes each form by rules that never fail, 
+And ’t is not Force, even on a mighty scale.” 
+
+
+ANAXAGORAS. 
+
+
+But here it was / — Plutonic fire, the shaper! 
+Explosive force of huge /Zolian vapor 
+
+Broke through the level Earth’s old crust primeval, 
+And raised the new hill with a swift upheaval ! 
+
+
+THALES. 
+What further shall therefrom result? The hill 
+Is there: ’t is well !—so let it stand there still ! 
+In such a strife one loses leisure precious, 
+Yet only leads the patient folk in leashes. 
+
+
+138 FAUST. 
+
+
+ANAXAGORAS. 
+
+
+The Mountain’s rocky clefts at once 
+Are peopled thick with Myrmidons, 
+With Pygmies, Emmets, Fingerlings, 
+And other active little things. 
+
+(Zo HOMUNCULUS.) 
+
+
+To greatness hast thou ne’er aspired, 
+But lived an eremite retired ; 
+
+Canst thou persuade thy mind to govern, 
+I ‘ll have thee chosen as their sovereign. 
+
+
+
+
+
+HOMUNCULUS. 
+What says my Thales? 
+
+
+THALES. 
+
+
+— Will not recommend : 
+For small means only unto small deeds tend, 
+But great means make the small man great. 
+See there! The Cranes, with purpose heinous! — 
+The troubled populace they menace, 
+And they would menace thus the king. 
+With pointed beaks and talons ample 
+The little men they pierce and trample : 
+Doom comes already thundering. 
+It was a crime, the heron-slaughter, 
+Beset amid their peaceful water ; 
+But from that rain of arrows deadly 
+A fell revenge arises redly, 
+And calls the kindred o’er the flood 
+To spill the Pygmies’ guilty blood. 
+What use for shield and helm and spear? 
+Or for the dwarfs the heron-feather ? 
+Dactyl and Emmet hide together : 
+Their cohorts scatter, seek the rear! 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT 7. 139 
+
+
+ANAXAGORAS 
+
+
+(after a pause, solemnly). 
+Though I the subterranean powers approve, 
+Yet help, in this case, must be sought above. ... 
+O thou aloft, in grace and vigor vernal, 
+Tri-named, tri-featured, and eternal, 
+By all my people’s woe I cry to thee, 
+Diana, Luna, Hecaté ! 
+Thou breast-expanding One, thou deeply-pondering, 
+Thou calmly-shining One, majestic wandering, 
+The fearful craters of thy shade unseal, 
+And free from spells thine ancient might reveal ! 
+( Passe.) 
+Am I too swiftly heard ? 
+Has then my cry 
+To yonder sky, 
+The course of Nature from its orbit stirred ? 
+
+
+And greater, ever greater, drawing near, 
+Behold the Goddess’ orbéd throne appear, 
+Enormous, fearful in its grimness, 
+
+With fires that redden through the dimness!... 
+No nearer! Disk of dread, tremendous, 
+
+Lest thou, with land and sea, to ruin send us! 
+Then were it true, Thessalian Pythonesses ® 
+With guilty spells, as Song confesses, 
+
+Once from thy path thy steps enchanted, 
+
+Till fatal gifts by thee were granted?... 
+
+The shield of splendor slowly darkles, 
+
+Then suddenly splits, and shines, and sparkles! 
+What rattling and what hissing follow, 
+
+With roar of winds and thunders hollow ! — 
+Before thy throne I speak my error. ... 
+
+O, pardon! J invoked the terror. 
+
+
+(Casts himself upon his face.) 
+
+
+140 FA OST. 
+
+
+THALES. 
+
+
+How many things can this man see and hear) 
+What happed, is not to me entirely clear ; 
+I’ve not, like him, experienced it. 
+
+The Hours are crazy, we ll admit; 
+
+For Luna calmly shines, and free, 
+
+In her high place, as formerly. 
+
+
+
+
+
+HOMUNCULUS. 
+
+
+Look yonder where the Pygmies fied ! 
+The round Hill has a pointed head. 
+
+I felt a huge rebound and shock ; 
+
+Down from the moon had fallen the rock, 
+And then, without the least ado, 
+
+Both foe and friend it smashed and slew. 
+I praise such arts as these, that show 
+Creation in a night fulfilled ; 
+
+That from above and from below 
+
+At once this mountain-pile could build. 
+
+
+THALES. 
+
+
+Be still! ’T was but imagined so. 
+Farewell, then, to the ugly brood ! 
+That thou wast not their king, is good. 
+Off to the cheerful festals of the Sea! 
+There as a marvellous guest, they "ll honor thee. 
+[ They depart 
+MEPHISTOPHELES 
+
+(climbing up the opposite side). 
+Here must I climb by steep and rocky stairways, 
+And roots of ancient oaks — the vilest rare ways ! 
+Upon my Hartz, the resinous atmosphere 
+Gives hint of pitch, to me almost as dear 
+As sulphur is, — but here, among these Greeks, _ 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT I. 141 
+
+
+For such a smell one long and vainly seeks; 
+And curious am | — for ’t is worth the knowing — 
+To find wherewith they keep their fires of Hell a-going, 
+
+
+DRYAD. 
+
+
+At home, be wise as it befits thee there; 
+
+Abroad, thou hast no cleverness to spare. 
+
+Thou shouldst not homeward turn thy mind, but here 
+The honor of the ancient oaks revere. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+One thinks on all relinquished there; 
+
+Use made it Paradise, and keeps it fair. 
+
+But say, what is ’t, in yonder cave 
+
+Obscure, a crouching triple-shape resembling ? 
+
+
+. DRYAD. 
+
+
+The Phorkyads!® Go there, if thou art brave ; 
+Address them, if thou canst, untrembling! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Why not! . . I something see, and am dumbfounded ! 
+
+Proud as I am, I must confess the truth: 
+
+I’ve never seen their like, in sooth, — 
+
+Worse than our hags, an Ugliness unbounded ! 
+
+How can the Deadly Sins then ever be 
+
+Found ugly in the least degree, 
+
+When one this triple dread shall see ? 
+
+We would not suffer them to dwell 
+
+Even at the dreariest door of Hell; 
+
+But here, in Beauty’s land, the Greek, 
+
+They ’re famed, because they ’re called antique.... 
+
+They stir, they seem to scent my coming; 
+
+Like vampire-bats, they ’re squeaking, twittering, hum 
+ming. 
+
+
+142 FAUST. 
+
+
+THE PHORKYADS. 
+
+
+Give me the eye, my sisters, that it spy 
+Who to our temple ventures now so nigh. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Most honored Dame! Approaching, by your leave, 
+Grant that your triple blessing I receive. 
+
+I come, though still unknown, yet, be it stated, 
+
+If I mistake not, distantly related. 
+
+Old, reverend Gods, already did I see; 
+
+To Ops and Rhea have I bowed the knee ; 
+
+The Parce even — your sisters — yesterday, 
+
+Or day before, they came across my way; 
+
+And yet the like of you ne’er met my sight: 
+
+Silent am I, and ravished with delight. 
+
+
+THE PHORKYADS. 
+This spirit seems to have intelligence. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+I am amazed no poet has the sense 
+
+To sing your praises, — say, how can it be 
+
+That we no pictures of your beauty see ? 
+
+Should not, through you, the chisel strive to wean us 
+From shapes like those of Juno, Pallas, Venus? 
+
+
+THE PHORKYADS. 
+
+
+Sunken in solitude and stillest night, 
+The mind of us ne’er took so far a flight. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+How should it, then? since here, concealed from view, 
+None ever see you, none are seen by you! 
+But choose those dwelling-places, and be known, 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT II. 143 
+
+
+Where Art and Splendor share an equal throne ; 
+Where swift, with double tread, day after day, 
+A marble block as hero walks away ; 
+
+Where — 
+
+
+THE PHORKYADS. 
+
+
+Cease, and rouse in us no longer vision! 
+What profit, if we knew them with precision ? — 
+We, born in night, akin to gloom alone, 
+Unto ourselves almost, to others quite, unknown. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+In such a case there ’s little more to say, 
+But one one’s self to others can convey. 
+One eye supplies you three, one tooth as well, 
+So were it mythologically possible 
+In two the being of the Three to cover, 
+And unto me the third fair form make over, 
+A short time, only. 
+
+
+' ONE. 
+Will it do, forsooth ? 
+
+
+THE OTHERS. 
+We 'll try it !— but without or eye or tooth. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Now just the best thing have you taken away. 
+How shall I then the image stern display ? 
+
+
+ONE. 
+
+
+T is easily done: just close one eye, 
+
+And let thy one side-tusk be seen thereby : 
+In profile, thus, with not a trait diminished, 
+Thy sisterly resemblance will be finished. 
+
+
+144 PAUST. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+So be it, then ! 
+
+
+THE PHORKYADS. 
+So be it! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES 
+(as PHORKYAD in profile). 
+
+
+Me behold, 
+The much-beloved son of Chaos old! 
+
+
+THE PHORKYADS. 
+Daughters of Chaos are we, by good right. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Disgrace! They ’ll call me now hermaphrodite. 
+
+
+THE PHORKYADS. 
+
+
+In our new sister-triad what a beauty ! 
+Two eyes have we, two teeth, for further duty. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Now from all eyes I'll hide this visage fell, 
+To fright the devils in the pool of Hell. 
+[Exit 
+
+
+ACT I. 145 
+
+
+IV. 
+
+
+ROCKY COVES OF THE ASGEAN SEA.» 
+The Moon delaying in the Zenith. 
+
+
+SIRENS 
+(couched upon the cliffs around, fiuting and singing). 
+HOUGH erewhile, by spells nocturnal, 
+Thee Thessalian hags infernal 
+Downward drew, with guilt intended, — 
+Look, from where thine arch is bended, 
+On the multitudinous, splendid 
+Twinkles of the billowy Ocean! 
+Shine upon the throngs in motion 
+O’er the waters, wild and free ! 
+To thy service vowed are we: 
+Fairest Luna, gracious be! 
+
+
+NEREIDS AND TRITONS 
+(a Wonders of the Sea). 
+
+
+Call with clearer, louder singing, 
+Through the Sea’s broad bosom ringing, 
+Call the tenants of the Deep! 
+When the storm swept unimpeded 
+We to stillest depths receded ; 
+Forth at sound of song we leap. 
+See! delighted and elated, 
+We ourselves have decorated, 
+With our golden crowns have crowned us, 
+With our spangled girdles bound us, 
+Chains and jewels hung around us! 
+All are spoils which you purvey ! 
+
+VOL. Il. 7 J 
+
+
+146 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Treasures, here in shipwreck swallowed, 
+You have lured, and we have. followed 
+You, the Demons of our bay. 
+
+
+SIRENS. 
+
+
+In the crystal cool, delicious, 
+Smoothly sport the happy fishes, 
+Pliant lives that nothing mar ; 
+Yet, ye festive crowds that gather, 
+We, to-day, would witness, rather, 
+That ye more than fishes are. 
+
+
+NEREIDS AND TRITONS. 
+
+
+We, before we hither wandered, 
+Thoroughly the question pondered : 
+Sisters, Brothers, speed afar ! 
+Briefest travel, light endurance, 
+Yield the validest assurance 
+
+That we more than fishes are. 
+
+
+[ TAcy depart. 
+SIRENS. 
+
+
+Off ! they have left the place, 
+
+Steering away to Samothrace,* 
+
+Vanished with favoring wind. 
+
+What is their purpose there, in the dreary 
+Domain of the lofty Cabiri? 
+
+Gods are they, but the strangest crew, 
+Ever begetting themselves anew, 
+
+And unto their own being blind. 
+
+
+In thy meridian stay, 
+
+Luna ! — graciously delay, 
+
+That the Night still embrace us, 
+And the Day not chase us! 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT I. 147 
+
+
+THALES 
+(on the shore, to HOMUNCULUS). 
+
+
+I fain would lead thee unto Nereus old. 
+Not distant are we from his cavern cold, 
+But stubbornness is his delight, 
+
+The peevish and repulsive wight. 
+Howe’er the human race has tried, 
+
+The Grumbler’s never satisfied: 
+
+Yet he the Future hath unsealed, 
+
+And men thereto their reverence yield, 
+And give him honor in his station. 
+‘Many his benefits have tasted. 
+
+
+HOMUNCULUS., 
+
+
+Then let us try, without more hesitation ! 
+My glass and flame will not at once be wasted. 
+
+
+NEREUS. 
+
+
+Are human voices those that reach mine ear ? 
+At once my wrath is kindled, keen and clear. 
+Aspiring forms, that high as Gods would ramble, 
+Yet ever damned their own selves to resemble. 
+In ancient years could I divinely rest, 
+
+Yet was impelled to benefit the Best ; 
+
+And when, at last, I saw my deeds completed, 
+
+It fully seemed as were the work defeated. 
+
+
+THALES. 
+
+
+And yet we trust thee, Graybeard of the Sea! 
+Thou art the Wise One: drive us not from thee! 
+Behold this Flame, in man’s similitude : 
+
+It yields itself unto thy counsel good. 
+
+
+NEREUS. 
+What! Counsel? When did ever men esteem it? 
+
+
+Wise words in hard ears are but lifeless lore. 
+Oft as the Act may smite them when they scheme it, 
+The People are as self-willed as before. 
+
+How warned I Paris, in paternal trust, 
+
+Before a foreign woman woke his lust! 
+
+Upon the Grecian strand he stood so bold ; 
+
+I saw in spirit, and to him foretold 
+
+The smoky winds, the overwhelming woe, 
+Beams all a-blaze, murder and death below, — 
+Troy’s judgment-day, held fast in lofty rhyme, 
+A terror through a thousand years of time! 
+
+My words seemed sport unto the reckless one : 
+His lust he followed: fallen was Ilion, — 
+
+A giant carcass, stiff, and hacked with steel, 
+To Pindus’ eagles ’t was a welcome meal. 
+Ulysses, too! cid I not him presage 
+
+The wiles of Circe and the Cyclops’ rage? 
+
+His paltering mind, his crew’s inconstant strain, 
+And what not all? —and did it bring him gain? 
+Till him, though late, the favoring billow bore, 
+A much-tossed wanderer, to the friendly shore. 
+
+
+THALES. 
+
+
+Such conduct, truly, gives the wise man pain, 
+And yet the good man once will try again. 
+An ounce of gratitu‘le, his help repaying, 
+Tons of ingratitude he sees outweighing. 
+And nothing trifling now we beg of thee ; 
+The boy here wishes to be born, and be. 
+
+
+NEREUS. 
+Let not my rarest mood be spoiled, I pray! 
+Far other business waits for me to-day. 
+I’ve hither bidden, by the wave and breeze, 
+The Graces of the Sea, the Dorides.* 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT II. 149 
+
+
+Olympus bears not, nor your lucent arch, 
+Such lovely forms, in such a lightsome march: 
+They fling themselves, in wild and wanton dalliance, 
+From the sea-dragons upon Neptune’s stallions, 
+Blent with the element so freely, brightly, 
+That even the foam appears to lift them lightly. 
+In Venus’ chariot-shell, with hues of morn, 
+Comes Galatea, now the fairest, borne; 
+Who, since that Cypris turned from us her face, 
+In Paphos reigns as goddess in her place. 
+Thus she, our loveliest, long since came to own, 
+As heiress, templed town and chariot-throne. 
+Away! the father’s hour of rapture clips 
+Hate from the heart, and harshness from the lips. 
+Away to Proteus! Ask that wondrous man 
+Of Being’s and of Transformation’s plan! 
+[He retires towards the sea. 
+
+
+THALES. 
+
+
+We, by this step, gain nothing: one may meet 
+Proteus, and straight he melts, dissolving fleet. 
+Though he remain, he only says 
+That which confuses and astonishes. 
+However, of such counsel thou hast need; 
+So, at a venture, let us thither speed! 
+[ They depart 
+SIRENS (on the rocks above). 
+
+
+What is ’t, that, far advancing, 
+Glides o’er the billows dancing ? 
+
+As, when the winds are shifted, 
+Shine snowy sails, uplifted, 
+
+So shine they o’er the waters, 
+Transfigured Ocean-daughters. 
+
+We ’Ill clamber down, and, near them, 
+Behold their forms, and hear them. 
+
+
+150 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+NEREIDS AND TRITONS. 
+What in our hands we bear you 
+Much comfort shall prepare you. 
+Chelone’s buckler giant 
+Shines with its forms defiant : — 
+They ’re Gods that we are bringing 
+High songs must you be singing! 
+
+
+SIRENS. 
+Small to the sight, 
+Great in their might, — 
+Saviours of the stranded, 
+Ancient Gods, and banded. 
+
+
+NEREIDS AND TRITONS. 
+We bring you the Cabiri 
+To festals calm and cheery ; 
+For where their sway extendeth 
+Neptune the realm befriendeth. 
+
+
+SIRENS. 
+We yield to your claim ; 
+When a shipwreck came, 
+Irresistibly you 
+Protected the crew. 
+
+
+NEREIDS AND TRITONS. 
+Three have we brought hither,* 
+The fourth refused us altogether: 
+He was the right one, said he, — 
+Their only thinker ready. 
+
+
+SIRENS. 
+One God the other God 
+Smites with the scoffer’s rod: 
+Honor all grace they bring, 
+Fear all evil they fling ! 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT I. Ist 
+
+
+NEREIDS AND TRITONS. 
+Seven are they, really. 
+
+
+SIRENS. 
+Where, then, stay the other three ? 
+
+
+NEREIDS AND TRITONS. 
+
+
+The truth we cannot gather: 
+
+Ask on Olympus, rather ! 
+
+There pines the eighth, forgotten, 
+By no one ever thought on! 
+
+In grace to us entreated, 
+
+But not yet all completed. 
+
+
+These incomparable, unchainable,™ 
+Are always further yearning, 
+
+With desire and hunger burning 
+For the Unattainable! 
+
+
+SIRENS. 
+
+
+These are our ways: 
+
+The God that sways 
+
+Sun, Moon, or other blaze, 
+We worship : for it pays. 
+
+
+NEREIDS AND TRITONS. 
+
+
+Highest glory for us behold, 
+Leading these festals cheery ! 
+
+
+SIRENS. 
+
+
+The heroes of the ancient time 
+
+Fail of their glory’s prime, 
+
+Where and howe’er it may unfold; 
+
+Though they have won the Fleece of Gold, — 
+Ye, the Cabiri ! 
+
+
+152 FAUST. 
+
+
+(Repeated as full chorus.) 
+
+
+Though they have won the Fleece of Gold, — 
+We! Ye! the Cabiri! 
+
+
+(Zhe NEREIDS and TRITONS move past.) 
+
+
+HOMUNCULUS. 
+
+
+These Malformations, every one, 
+Had earthen pots for models : 9% 
+Against them now the wise men run, 
+And break their stubborn noddles. 
+
+
+THALES. 
+
+
+That is the thing one wishes, just! 
+The coin takes value from its rust. 
+
+
+PROTEUS (unpercerved). 
+
+
+This pleases me, the old fable-ranger! 
+The more respectable, the stranger. 
+
+
+THALES. 
+Where art thou, Proteus ? 
+
+
+PROTEUS 
+(speaking ventriloqually, now near, now at a distance). 
+Here! and here! 
+
+
+THALES. 
+
+
+I pardon thee thine ancient jeer. 
+Cheat not a friend with vain oration : 
+Thou speak’st, I know, from a delusive station. 
+
+
+PROTEUS (as éf at a distance). 
+Farewell ! 
+THALES (softly to HOMUNCULUS). 
+
+
+He is quite near: shine brilliantly} 
+For curious as a fish is he; 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT II. 153 
+
+
+And in whatever form he hide, 
+A flame will make him hither glide. 
+
+
+HOMUNCULUS. 
+
+
+At once a flood of light I'll fling, 
+. Yet softly, lest the glass should spring. 
+
+
+PROTEUS 
+(in the form of a giant tortotse). 
+What shines so fair, so graciously ? 
+
+
+THALES (covering HOMUNCULUS). 
+Good! If thou wishest, canst thou nearer see. 
+Be not annoyed to take a little trouble, 
+And show thyself on man’s foundation double. 
+What we disclose, to whomsoe’er would see it, 
+With our will only, by our favor, be it! 
+
+
+PROTEUS (i2 a noble form). 
+Still world-wise pranks thou failest to forget. 
+
+
+THALES. 
+To change thy form remains thy pleasure yet. 
+(He uncovers HOMUNCULUS.) 
+
+
+. PROTEUS (astonished). 
+A shining dwarf! The like I ne’er did see ! 
+
+
+THALES. 
+
+
+He asks thy counsel, he desires to be. 
+He is, as I myself have heard him say, 
+(The thing ’s a marvel!) only born half-way. 
+He has no lack of qualities ideal, 
+But far too much of palpable and real.* 
+Till now the glass alone has given him weight, 
+And he would fain be soon incorporate. 
+7* 
+
+
+154 FAUST. 
+
+
+PROTEUS. 
+
+
+Thou art a genuine virgin’s-son : 
+Finished, ere thou shouldst be begun ! 
+
+
+THALES (whispering). 
+Viewed from another side, the thing seems critical: 
+He is, methinks, hermaphroditical ! 
+
+
+PROTEUS. 
+
+
+Then all the sooner ’t will succeed : 
+
+Let him but start, ’t will be arranged with speed. 
+No need to ponder here his origin ; 
+
+On the broad ocean’s breast must thou begin ! 
+One starts there first within a narrow pale,” 
+And finds, destroying lower forms, enjoyment: 
+Little by little, then, one climbs the scale, 
+
+And fits himself for loftier employment. 
+
+
+HOMUNCULUS. 
+
+
+Here breathes and blows a tender air; 
+And I delight me in the fragrance rare. 
+
+
+PROTEUS. 
+Yea, verily, my loveliest stripling ! 
+And farther on, far more enjoyable. 
+Around yon narrow spit the waves are rippling, 
+The halo bright and undestroyable ! 
+There to the host we ’ll nearer be, 
+Now floating hither o’er the sea. 
+Come with me there! 
+
+
+THALES. 
+I'll go along. 
+HOMUNCULUS. 
+A spirit-purpose, triply strong ! 
+
+
+ACT I. 155 
+
+
+V. 
+
+
+TELCHINES OF RHODES.#% 
+
+
+On Sea-Frorses and Sea-Dragons, wielding Neptune's Trident. 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+
+
+E ’ve forged for old Neptune the trident that urges 
+To smoothness and peace the refractory surges 
+When Jove tears the clouds of the tempest asunder, 
+*T is Neptune encounters the roll of the thunder: 
+The lightnings above may incessantly glow, 
+But wave upon wave dashes up from below, 
+And all that, between them, the terrors o’erpower, 
+Long tossed and tormented, the Deep shall devour; 
+. And thence he hath lent us his sceptre to-day. — 
+Now float we contented, in festal array. 
+
+
+SIRENS. 
+
+
+- You, to Helios consecrated, 
+To the bright Day’s blessing fated, — 
+You to this high Hour we hail: 
+Luna’s worship shall prevail ! 
+
+
+TELCHINES. 
+
+
+O loveliest Goddess by night over-vaulted! 
+
+Thou hearest with rapture thy brother exalted : 
+To listen to Rhodes thou wilt lean from the skies ; 
+To him, there, the pzans eternally rise. 
+
+When the day he begins, when he ends its career, 
+His beam is the brightest that falls on us here. 
+The mountains, the cities, the sea and the shore, 
+Are lovely and bright to the God they adore: 
+
+
+156 FAUST. 
+
+
+No mist hovers o’er us, and should one appear, 
+
+A beam and a brecze, and the Island is clear! 
+There Phcebus his form may by hundreds behold, — 
+Colossal, as youth, as the Gentle, the Bold; 
+
+For we were the first whose devotion began 
+
+To shape the high Gods in the image of Man. 
+
+
+
+
+
+PROTEUS. 
+
+
+But leave them to their boasting, singing ! 
+_ Beside the holy sunbeams, bringing 
+
+All life, their dead works are a jest. 
+
+They melt and cast, with zeal impassioned. 
+
+And what they once in bronze have fashioned, 
+
+They think it ’s something of the best. 
+
+These proud ones are at last made lowly : 
+
+The forms of Gods, that stood and shone, 
+
+Were by an earthquake overthrown, 
+
+And long since have been melted wholly. 
+
+This earthly toil, whate’er it be, 
+
+Is never else than drudgery: 
+
+A better life the waves declare thee,’ 
+
+And now to endless seas shall bear thee 
+
+Proteus- Dolphin. 
+
+
+(/7e transforms himself.) 
+*T is done! Behold! 
+Unto thy fairest fortune waken : 
+
+
+Upon my back shalt thou be taken, 
+And wedded to the Ocean old. 
+
+
+THALES. 
+Yield to the wish so wisely stated, 
+And at the source be thou created! 
+Be ready for the rapid plan! 
+There, by eternal canons wending, 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT Ui. 157 
+
+
+Through thousand, myriad forms ascending, 
+Thou shalt attain, in time, to Man. 
+
+
+(HOMUNCULUS mounts the Proteus-Dolphin.) 
+
+
+PROTEUS. 
+
+
+In spirit seek the watery distance! 
+Boundless shall there be thine existence, 
+And where to move, thy will be free. 
+But struggle not to higher orders ! 
+
+Once Man, within the human borders, 
+Then all is at an end for thee. 
+
+
+THALES. 
+
+
+That’s as it haps: ’tis no ill fate . 
+In one’s own day to be true man and great. 
+
+
+PROTEUS (fo THALES). 
+
+
+Some one, perchance, of thine own kind ! 
+Their lives continue long, I find; 
+
+For with thy pallid phantom-peers 
+
+I’ve seen thee now for many hundred years. 
+
+
+SIRENS (02 the rocks). 
+
+
+See! what rings of cloudlets, gliding 
+Round the moon, in circles play ! 
+They are doves whom Love is guiding, 
+With their wings as white as day. 
+Paphos hither sends them fleetly, 
+
+All her ardent birds, to us, 
+
+And our festival completely 
+
+Crowns with purest rapture, thus ! 
+
+
+NEREUS (advancing to THALES). 
+
+
+Though some nightly wanderer’s vision 
+Deem yon ring an airy spcctre, 
+
+
+158 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+We, the spirits, with decision 
+Entertain a view correcter : 
+
+They are doves, whose convoy gathers 
+Round my daughter’s chariot-shell, 
+With a flight of wondrous spell, 
+Learned in old days of the fathers. 
+
+
+THALES. 
+
+
+That I also think is best,” 
+
+Which the true man comfort gives, 
+When in warm and peaceful nest 
+Something holy for him lives. 
+
+
+PSYLLI AND MARSI '@ 
+(on sea-bulls, sea-heifers and sea-rams). 
+
+
+In hollow caves on Cyprus’ shore, 
+
+By the Sea-God still unbattered, 
+
+Not yet by Seismos shattered, 
+
+By eternal winds breathed o’er, 
+
+And still, as in days that are measured, 
+Contented and silently pleasured, 
+
+The chariot of Cypris we ’ve treasured. 
+
+By the murmurs, the nightly vibrations, 
+O’er the waves and their sweetest pulsations, 
+Unseen to the new generations, 
+
+The loveliest daughter we lead. 
+
+We fear not, as lightly we hie on, 
+
+Either Eagle or wing-lifted Lion, 
+
+Either Crescent or Cross, 
+
+Though the sky it emboss, — 
+
+Though it changefully triumphs and flashes, 
+In defeat to forgetfulness dashes, 
+
+Lays the fields and the cities in ashes! 
+Straightway, with speed, 
+
+The loveliest of mistresses forth we lead. 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT J. 
+
+
+SIRENS. 
+Lightly moved, with paces graver, 
+Circle round the car again; 
+Line on line inwoven, waver 
+Snake-like in a linking chain, — 
+Stalwart Nereids, come, enring us, 
+Rudest women, wild and free; 
+Tender Dorides, ye bring us 
+Her, the Mother of the Sea, — 
+Galatea, godlike woman, 
+Worthiest immortality, 
+Yet, like those of lineage human, 
+Sweet with loving grace is she. 
+
+
+_ DORIDES 
+(i chorus, mounted on dolphins, passing NEREUS). 
+Lend us, Luna, light and shadow, 
+Show this youthful flower and fire! 
+For we bring beloved spouses, 
+Praying for them to our sire. 
+
+
+(Zo NEREUS.) 
+
+
+They are boys, whom we have rescued 
+From the breaker’s teeth of dread ; 
+They, on reeds and mosses bedded, 
+Back to light and life we led: 
+
+Now must they, with glowing kisses, 
+Thank us for the granted blisses ; 
+On the youths thy favor shed ! 
+
+
+NEREUS. 
+
+
+
+
+
+Lo, now! what double gains your deed requite ! 
+
+
+You show compassion, and you take delight. 
+
+
+160 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+DORIDES. 
+
+
+If thou praisest our endeavor, 
+Father, grant the fond request, — 
+Let us hold them fast forever 
+
+On each young, immortal breast. 
+
+
+NEREUS. 
+Take joy in what you ’ve finely captured, 
+And shape to men the youthful crew; 
+I cannot grant the boon enraptured 
+Which only Zeus can give to you. 
+The billows, as they heave and rock you, 
+Allow to love no firmer stand, 
+So, when these fancies fade and mock you, 
+Send quietly the youths to land. 
+
+
+DORIDES. 
+
+
+Fair boys, we must part, forsooth ; 
+Yet we love you, we vow it! 
+
+We have asked for eternal truth, 
+But the Gods will not allow it 
+
+
+THE YOUTHS. 
+
+
+We sailor-boys, if still you would 
+Give love, as first you gave it, 
+We ’ve never had a life so good, 
+And would not better have it! 
+
+
+(GALATEA approaches on her chariot of shell.) ** 
+
+
+NEREUS. 
+*T is thou, O my darling! 
+
+
+GALATEA. 
+
+
+O, Sire! what delight 
+Linger, ye dolphins! I cling to the sight. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT I. 161 
+
+
+NEREUS. 
+
+
+Already past, they swiftly wander 
+
+On, in circling courses wheeling ! 
+
+What care they for the heart’s profoundest feeling ? 
+Ah, would they took me with them yonder ! 
+
+Yet a single glance can cheer 
+
+All the livelong barren year. 
+
+
+THALES. 
+
+
+Hail! All hail! with newer voices: 
+
+How my spirit rejoices, 
+
+By the True and the Beautiful penetrated ! 
+From Water was everything first created! 
+Water doth everything still sustain ! 
+
+Ocean, grant us thine endless reign ! 
+
+If the clouds thou wert sending not, 
+
+The swelling streams wert spending not, 
+The winding rivers bending not, 
+
+And all in thee were ending not, 
+
+Could mountains, and plains, and the world itself, be ? 
+The freshest existence is nourished by thee ! 
+
+
+ECHO 
+(chorus of the collective circles). 
+The freshest existence flows ever from thee! 
+
+
+NEREUS. 
+
+
+They turn and wheel again, afar ; 
+
+No longer face to face they are. 
+
+In linking circles, wide extending, — 
+In their festive dances blending, — 
+The countless cohorts now appear. 
+But Galatea’s chariot-shell 
+
+Still I see, and see it well: 
+
+
+
+
+
+162 FAUST. 
+
+
+It shines like a star 
+
+Through the crowds intwining. 
+
+Love from the tumult still is shining ! 
+
+Though ne’er so far, 
+
+It shimmers bright and clear, | 
+Ever true and near. 
+
+
+HOMUNCULUS. 
+
+
+This softly heaving brine on, 
+Whatever I may shine on 
+Is all with beauty crowned. 
+
+
+PROTEUS. 
+
+
+Within this moisture living, 
+Thy lamp now first is giving 
+A clear and splendid sound. 
+
+
+NEREUS. 
+What mystery new, ’mid the crowds that are wheeling, 
+Is now to our vision its wonders revealing ? 
+What flames round the shell at the feet of the Queen? — 
+Now flaring in force, and now shining serene, 
+As if by the pulses of love it were fed. 
+
+
+THALES. 
+
+
+Homunculus is it, by Proteus misled!... 
+
+And these are the signs of imperious yearning, 
+The presage of swelling, impatiently spurning : 
+He ’ll shiver his glass on the glittering throne — 
+He glows and he flashes, and now he hath flown! 
+
+
+SIRENS. 
+
+
+What fiery marvel the billows enlightens,’ 
+As one on the other is broken and brightens ? 
+
+
+ACT Il. 163 
+
+
+It flashes, and wavers, and hitherward plays! 
+On the path of the Night are the bodies ablaze, 
+And all things around are with flames overrun : 
+Then Eros be ruler, who all things begun! 
+Hail, ye Waves! Hail, Sea unbounded, 
+By the holy Fire surrounded ! 
+Water, hail! Hail, Fire, the splendid! 
+Hail, Adventure rarely ended ! 
+
+
+ALL TOGETHER. 
+Hail, ye Airs that softly flow! 
+Hail, ye caves of Earth below! 
+Honored now and evermore 
+Be the Elemental Four! 
+
+
+164 FAUST. 
+
+
+ACT ITI. 
+
+
+BEFORE THE PALACE OF MENELAUS IN 
+SPARTA. 
+
+
+HELENA enters, with the CHORUS of Captive Trojan Women. 
+PANTHALIS, Leader of the Chorus. 
+
+
+HELENA." 
+
+
+| MUCH admired and much reviled, — I, Helena, 
+
+, Come from the strand where we have disembarked 
+but now, 
+
+Still giddy from the restless rocking of the waves 
+
+Of Ocean, which from Phrygian uplands hitherwards 
+
+On high, opposing backs — Poseidon’s favor won 
+
+And Euros’ strength — have borne us to our native bay. 
+
+Below there, with the bravest of his warriors, now 
+
+King Menelaus feels the joy of his return; 
+
+But thou, O bid me welcome back, thou lofty House 
+
+Which Tyndarus, my father, on the gentle slope, 
+
+Returning from the Hill of Pallas, builded up; 
+
+And when I here with Clytemnestra sister-like, 
+
+With Castor and with Pollux gayly sporting, grew, 
+
+Before all Sparta’s houses nobly was adorned. 
+
+Ye valves of yon dark iron portals, ye I hail! 
+
+Once through your festive and inviting opening 
+
+It happened that to me, from many singled out, 
+
+The coming of the bridegroom Menelaus shone. 
+
+Unfold again for me, that I the King’s command 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT Ill. 165 
+
+
+Fulfil with strictness, as unto a spouse is meet: 
+
+Give entrance now, and let all things be left behind 
+Which hitherto have stormed upon me, full of doom! 
+For, since this place all unsuspicious I forsook 
+
+For Cytherza’s fane, as holy duty called, 
+
+But there the robber seized me, he the Phrygian, — 
+Happened have many things, which people far and wide 
+So fain relate, but which so fain hears not the one 
+
+Of whom the legend rose, and to a fable grew. 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+
+
+Disdain thou not, O beautiful Dame, 
+Possession proud of the highest estate ! 
+
+For the greatest fortune is thine alone, 
+
+The fame of beauty that towers o’er all. 
+The name of the hero heralds his path, 
+Thence proudly he strides ; 
+
+Yet bends at ance the stubbornest man, 
+And yields to all-conquering Beauty’s might. 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+Enough, with mine own spouse have I been hither 
+shipped, 
+And now by him beforehand to his city sent; 
+Yet what his purposes may be, I fail to guess. 
+Do I come here as wife? Or do I come as queen? 
+Or come, an offering for the Prince’s bitter pain, 
+And for the long-endured misfortune of the Greeks ? 
+For they, the Immortals, verily fixed my Fame and Fate 
+Ambiguously, attendants twain of doubtful worth 
+To Beauty, who upon this very threshold stand 
+With gloomy and with threatening presence at my side. 
+Then, even, in the hollow ship, but seldom looked 
+My spouse on me, nor ever word of comfort spake : 
+
+
+166 FAUST. 
+
+
+As if he brooded evil, fronting me he sat. 
+
+But now, when speeding towards the strand of that deep 
+cove 
+
+Eurotas makes, scarce had the foremost vessels’ prows 
+
+The land saluted, than he spake, as urged the Gods: 
+
+“ Here, in their ordered rank, my warriors disembark ; 
+
+Them shall I muster, ranged along the ocean-strand. 
+
+But thou go ever onwards, up the hallowed banks 
+
+Of fair Eurotas, dowered with gifts of plenteous fruit, 
+
+Guiding the stallions o’er the bloom of watery meads, 
+
+Till there, on that most lovely plain thy journey ends, 
+
+Where Lacedemon, once a fruitful spreading field, 
+
+Surrounded by austerest mountains, built its seat. 
+
+Set thou thy foot within the high-towered princely House, 
+
+And muster well the maids, whom there behind I left, 
+
+Together with the old and faithful Stewardess. 
+
+Let her display to thee the wealth of treasures stored, 
+
+Even as thy father them bequeathed, and I myself, 
+
+In war and peace accumulating, have amassed. 
+
+All things shalt thou in ancient order find: because 
+
+It is the Ruler’s privilege, that he all things 
+
+In faithful keeping find, returning to his house, — 
+
+Where’er he may have left it, each thing in its place; 
+
+For power to change in aught possesses not the slave.” 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+
+
+Let now the splendid, accumulate wealth 
+Rejoice and cheer thee, in eye and heart ! 
+
+For the gleam of chain and the glory of crown 
+Are lying idly in haughty repose : 
+
+But enter thou in and challenge them all, 
+
+And they will respond. 
+
+I rejoice to witness Beauty compete 
+
+With gold and pearl and the jewel-stone. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT I. 167 
+
+
+HELENA. , 
+
+
+Thereafter further came my lord’s imperious speech: 
+“ Now when all things in order thou inspected hast, 
+Then take so many tripods as thou needful deem’st, 
+And vessels manifold, such as desires at hand 
+
+Who offers to the Gods, fulfilling holy use, — 
+
+The kettles, also bowls, the shallow basin’s disk; 
+The purest water from the sacred fountain fill 
+
+In lofty urns; and further, also ready hold 
+
+The well-dried wood that rapidly accepts the flame; 
+And let the knife, well-sharpened, fail not finally ; 
+Yet all besides will I relinquish to thy care.” 
+
+So spake he, urging my departure; but no thing 
+
+Of living breath did he, who ordered thus, appoint, 
+That shall, to honor the Olympian Gods, be slain. 
+’T is critical; and yet I banish further care, 
+
+And let all things be now to the high Gods referred, 
+Who that fulfil, whereto their minds may be disposed, 
+Whether by men ’t is counted good, or whether bad ; 
+In either case we mortals, we are doomed to bear. 
+Already lifted oft the Offerer the axe 
+
+In consecration o’er the bowed neck of the beast, 
+And could not consummate the act; for enemies 
+Approaching, or Gods intervening, hindered him. 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+
+
+What shall happen, imagin’st thou not. 
+Queen, go forwards 
+
+With courage ! 
+
+Blessing and evil come 
+
+Unexpected to men: 
+
+Though announced, yet we do not believe. 
+Burned not Ilion, saw we not also 
+
+Death in the face, shamefullest death ? 
+And are we not here, 
+
+
+168 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+With thee companioned, joyously serving, 
+Seeing the dazzling sun in the heavens, 
+And the fairest of earth, too, — 
+
+Kindest one, thee, — we, the happy ? 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+
+
+Let come, what may! Whate’er awaits me, it beseems 
+That I without delay go up in the Royal House, 
+Which, long my need and yearning, forfeited almost, 
+Once more hath risen on my sight, I know not how. 
+My feet no longer bear me with such fearlessness 
+
+Up the high steps, which as a child I sprang across. 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+Cast ye, O sisters! ye 
+Sorrowful captives, 
+All your trouble far from ye! 
+Your mistress’s joy partake, 
+Helena’s joy partake, 
+Who the paternal hearth 
+Delightedly now is approaching, 
+Truly with late-returning 
+But with firmer and surer feet! 
+
+
+Praise ye the sacredest, 
+
+Still re-establishing 
+
+And home-bringing Immortals! 
+How the delivered one 
+
+Soars as on lifted wings 
+
+Over asperities, while in vain 
+The prisoned one, yearningly, 
+Over the fortress-parapet 
+Pineth with outspread arms! 
+
+
+But a God took hold of her, 
+The Expatriate, 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT 111. 169 
+
+
+And from Ilion’s ruins 
+Hither hath borne her again, 
+To the ancient, the newly embellished 
+Paternal house, 
+From unspeakable 
+- Raptures and torments, 
+Early youthful days, 
+Now refreshed, to remember. 
+
+
+PANTHALIS (as LEADER OF THE CHORUS). 
+
+
+Forsake ye now the joy-encompassed path of Song, 
+And towards the portal’s open valves your glances turn! 
+What, Sisters, do I see? Returneth not the Queen 
+With swift and agitated step again to us ? 
+
+What is it now, great Queen, what could encounter thee 
+To move and shake thee so, within thy house’s halls, 
+Instead of greeting? Thou canst not conceal the thing; 
+For strong repulsion written on thy brow I see, 
+
+And noble indignation, struggling with amaze. 
+
+
+HELENA 
+(who has left the wings of the portal open, excitedly). 
+
+
+4 common fear beseemeth not the child of Zeus ; 
+
+No lightly-passing hand of terror touches her ; 
+
+But that fell Horror, which the womb of ancient Night 
+
+With first of things delivered, rolled through many forms, 
+
+Like glowing clouds that from the mountain’s fiery throat 
+
+Whirl up expanding, even heroes’ breasts may shake. 
+
+Thus terribly have here to-day the Stygian Gods 
+
+Mine entrance in the house betokened, and I fain, 
+
+Even as a guest dismissed, would take myself away 
+
+From this oft-trodden threshold I so longed to tread. 
+
+But, no! hither have I retreated to the light; 
+
+Nor further shall ye force me, Powers, be who ye may ! 
+VOL. II. 8 
+
+
+170 FAUST. 
+
+
+Some consecration will I muse: then, purified, 
+The hearth-fire may the wife so welcome, as the lord. 
+
+
+LEADER OF THE CHORUS. 
+
+
+Discover, noble Dame, unto thy servants here, 
+Who reverently assist thee, what hath come to pass. | 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+
+
+What I beheld, shall ye with your own eyes behold, 
+
+If now that shape the ancient Night hath not at once 
+
+Re-swallowed to the wonders of her deepest breast. 
+
+But I with words will yet declare it, that ye know. 
+
+When solemnly, my nearest duty borne in mind, 
+
+The Royal House’s gloomy inner court | trod, 
+
+Amazed I saw the silent, dreary corridors. 
+
+No sound of diligent labor, going forwards, met 
+
+The ear, no signs of prompt and busy haste the eye ; 
+
+And not a maid appeared to me, no stewardess 
+
+Such as is wont to greet the stranger, friendly-wise. 
+
+But when towards the ample hearth-stone I advanced, 
+
+I saw, beside the glimmering ashes that remained, 
+
+A veiled and giant woman seated on the ground, 
+
+Not like to one who sleeps, but one deep-sunk in thought, 
+
+With words of stern command I summoned her to work, 
+
+The stewardess surmising, who meanwhile, perchance, 
+
+My spouse with forethought there had stationed when 
+he left; 
+
+But she, still crouched together, sat immovable. 
+
+Stirred by my threats at last, she lifted the right arm 
+
+As if from hearth and hall she beckoned me away. 
+
+I turned indignantly from her, and swiftly sped 
+
+Unto the steps whereon aloft the Thalamos 
+
+Adorned is set, and near thereto the treasure-room : 
+
+But suddenly from the floor the wondrous figure sprang, 
+
+Barring my way imperiously, and showed herself 
+
+
+ACT Il. 171 
+
+
+In haggard height, with hollow, blood-discolored eyes, 
+A shape so strange that eye and mind confounded are. 
+But to the winds I speak: for all in vain doth Speech 
+Fatigue itself, creatively to build up forms. 
+
+There look, yourselves! She even ventures forth to light! 
+Here are we masters, till the lord and king shall come. 
+The horrid births of Night doth Phoebus, Beauty’s friend, 
+Drive out of sight to caverns, or he binds them fast. 
+
+
+(PHORKYAS appears on the threshold, between the door-posts.) 
+
+
+CHORUS." 
+
+
+Much my experience, although the tresses, 
+
+Youthfully clustering, wave on my temples; 
+Many the terrible things 1 have witnessed, 
+
+Warriors lamenting, Ilion’s night, 
+
+When it fell. 
+
+
+Through the beclouded, dusty and maddened 
+Throngs of the combatants, heard I the Gods then 
+Terribly calling, heard I the iron 
+
+Accents of Discord clang through the field, 
+City-wards. 
+
+
+Ah, yet stood they, Ilion’s 
+Ramparts ; but ever the fiery glow 
+Ran from neighbor to neighbor walls, 
+Ever extending from here and there, 
+With the roar of its own storm, 
+
+Over the darkening city. 
+
+
+Flying saw I, through smoke and flame, 
+And the tongues of the blinding fire, 
+Fearful angering presence of Gods, 
+Stalking marvellous figures, 
+Giant-great, through the gloomy 
+Fire-illuminate vapors. 
+
+
+17? 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Saw I, or was it but 
+
+Dread of the mind, that fashioned 
+Forms so affrighting? Never can 
+Justly I say it? Yet that I Her, 
+Horrible, here with eyes behold, 
+Is to me known and certain: 
+Even to my hand were palpable, 
+Did not the terror restrain me, 
+Holding me back from the danger. 
+
+
+Which one of Phorkys’ 
+Daughters then art thou? 
+
+Since 1 compare thee 
+
+Unto that family. 
+
+Art thou, perchance, of the Graiz, 
+One of the dreaded gray-born, 
+One eye and tooth only 
+
+Owning alternately ? 
+
+
+Darest thou, Monster, 
+
+Here beside Beauty, 
+
+Unto high Phaebus’ 
+
+Vision display thee? 
+
+Step thou forth, notwithstanding ! 
+For the Ugly beholds he not, 
+Even as his hallowed glances 
+Never beheld the shadow. 
+
+
+Yet a sorrowful adverse fate, 
+
+Us mortals compelleth, alas! 
+
+To endure the unspeakable eye-pain 
+Which She, the accurst, reprehensible, 
+Provokes in the lovers of Beauty. 
+
+
+Yes, then hearken, if thou brazenly 
+Us shalt encounter, hear the curse, — 
+
+
+ACT II. 173 
+
+
+Hear the threat of every abuse 
+From the denouncing mouths of the Fortunate, 
+Whom the Gods themselves have fashioned ! 
+
+
+PHORKYAS."°S 
+
+
+Old is the saw, and yet its sense is high and true, 
+That Shame and Beauty ne’er together, hand in hand, 
+Pursued their way across the green domains of Earth. 
+Deep-rooted dwells in both such force of ancient hate, 
+That wheresoever on their way one haps to meet 
+
+The other, each upon her rival turns her back: 
+
+Then forth again vehemently they hasten on, 
+
+Shame deep depressed, but Beauty insolent and bold, 
+Till her at last the hollow night of Orcus takes, 
+
+If Age hath not beforehand fully tamed her pride. 
+
+So now I find ye, shameless ones, come from abroad 
+With arrogance o’erflowing, as a file of cranes 
+
+That with their hoarse, far-sounding clangor high in air, 
+A cloudy line, slow-moving, send their creaking tones 
+Below, the lone, belated wanderer to allure 
+
+That he look up; but, notwithstanding, go their way, 
+And he goes his: and likewise will it be, with us. 
+Who, then, are you, that round the Royal Palace high 
+Like Menads wild, or like Bacchantes, dare to rave ? 
+Who, then, are you, that you the House’s stewardess 
+Assail and howl at, as the breed of dogs the moon? 
+Think ye from me ’t is hidden, of what race ye are? 
+Ye brood, in war begotten and in battle bred, 
+
+Lustful of man, seducing no less than seduced, 
+Emasculating soldiers’, burghers’ strength alike! 
+Methinks, to see your crowd, a thick cicada-swarm 
+Hath settled on us, covering the green-sown fields. 
+Devourers ye of others’ toil! Ye snatch and taste, 
+Destroying in its bud the land’s prosperity ! 
+
+Wares are ye, plundered, bartered, and in market sold! 
+
+
+(74 FAUST. 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+
+
+Who rates the servant-maids in presence of the Dame 
+Audaciously invades the Mistress’ household-right : 
+Her only it becometh to commend what is 
+Praiseworthy, as to punish what is blamable. 
+
+Content, moreover, am I with the service which 
+
+They gave me, when the lofty strength of Ilion 
+Beleaguered stood, and fell in ruin: none the less 
+When we the sorrowful and devious hardships bore 
+
+Of errant travel, where each thinks but of himself. 
+Here, too, the like from this gay throng do I expect: 
+Not what the slave is, asks the lord, but how he serves. 
+Therefore be silent, cease to grin and jeer at them! 
+
+If thou the Palace hitherto hast guarded well 
+
+In place of Mistress, so much to thy credit stands ; 
+But now that she herself hath come, shouldst thou retire 
+Lest punishment, in place of pay deserved, befall ! 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+
+
+To threaten the domestics is a right assured, 
+
+Which she, the spouse august of the God-prospered 
+king, 
+
+By many years of wise discretion well hath earned. 
+
+Since thou, now recognized, thine ancient station here 
+
+Again assum’st, as Queen and Mistress of the House, 
+
+Grasp thou the reins so long relaxed, be ruler now, 
+
+Take in thy keep the treasure, and ourselves thereto! 
+
+But first of all protect me, who the eldest am, 
+
+From this pert throng, who with thee, Swan of Beauty. 
+matched, 
+
+Are only stumpy-winged and cackling, quacking geese. 
+
+
+LEADER OF THE CHORUS. 
+How ugly, near to Beauty, showeth Ugliness ! 
+
+
+ACT II. 175 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+How silly, near to understanding, want of sense ! 
+
+
+(Henceforth the CHORETIDS answer in turn, stepping singly 
+Sorth from the CHORUS.) 
+
+
+CHORETID I.*% 
+Of Father Erebus relate, relate of Mother Night ! 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+Speak thou of Scylla, sister-children of one flesh ! 
+
+
+CHORETID II. 
+Good store of hideous monsters shows thy family tree! 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+Go down to Orcus! There thy tribe and kindred seek! 
+
+
+CHORETID III. 
+Those who dwell there are all by far too young for thee. 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+On old Tiresias try thy lascivious arts ! 
+
+
+CHORETID Iv. 
+Orion’s nurse was great-great-grandchild unto thee! 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+rhee harpies, I suspect, did nurse and feed on filth. 
+
+
+CHORETID V. 
+Wherewith dost thou such choice emaciation feed ? 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+Not with the blood, for which thou all too greedy art. 
+
+
+176 FAUST. 
+
+
+CHORETID VI. 
+Thou, hungering for corpses, hideous corpse thyself ! 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+- The teeth of vampires in thy shameless muzzle shine ! 
+
+
+LEADER OF THE CHORUS. 
+Thine shall I stop, when I declare thee who thou art. 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+Then name thyself the first! The riddle thus is solved 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+
+
+Not angered, but in sorrow, do I intervene, 
+
+Prohibiting the storm of this alternate strife ! 
+
+For nothing more injurious meets the ruling lord 
+
+Than quarrels of his faithful servants, underhand. 
+
+The echo of his orders then returns no more 
+
+Accordantly to him in swiftly finished acts, 
+
+But, roaring wilfully, encompasses with storm 
+
+Him, self-confused, and chiding to the empty air. 
+
+Nor this alone: in most unmannered anger ye 
+
+Have conjured hither pictures of the shapes of dread, 
+
+‘Which so surround me, that to Orcus now I feel 
+
+My being whirled, despite these well-known native fields. 
+
+Can it be memory? Was it fancy, seizing me? 
+
+Was all that, 1? and am J, now? and shall I hence 
+forth be 
+
+The dream and terror of those town-destroying ones ? 
+
+I see the maidens shudder: but, the eldest, thou 
+
+
+Composedly standest — speak a word of sense to me! 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+
+
+Whoe’er the fortune manifold of years recalls, 
+Sees as a dream at last the favor of the Gods. 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT 11. 177 
+
+
+But thou, so highly dowered, so past all measure helped, 
+Saw’st in the ranks of life but love-desirous men, 
+
+To every boldest hazard kindled soon and spurred. 
+Thee early Theseus snatched, excited by desire, 
+
+Like Heraciés in strength, a splendid form of man 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+
+
+He bore me forth, a ten-year-old and slender roe, 
+And shut me in Aphidnus’ tower, in Attica. 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+But then, by Castor and by Pollux soon released, 
+The choicest crowd of heroes, wooing, round thee 
+pressed. 
+HELENA. 
+
+
+Yet most my secret favor, freely I confess, 
+Patroclus won, the likeness of Pelides he. 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+
+
+Wed by thy father’s will to Menelaus then, 
+The bold sea-rover, the sustainer of his house. 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+
+
+My sire the daughter gave him, and the government: 
+Then from our wedded nearness sprang Hermione. 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+
+
+Yet when he boldly claimed the heritage of Crete, 
+To thee, the lonely one, too fair a guest appeared. 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+
+
+Why wilt thou thus recall that semi-widowhood, 
+And all the hideous ruin it entailed on me? 
+ge 
+
+
+178 FAUST, 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+
+
+To me, a free-born Cretan, did that journey bring 
+Imprisonment, as well, — protracted slavery. 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+At once he hither ordered thee as stewardess, 
+Giving in charge the fortress and the treasure-stores. 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+
+
+Which thou forsookest, wending to the towered town 
+Of Ilion, and the unexhausted joys of love. 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+Name not those joys to me! for sorrow all too stern 
+Unendingly was poured upon my breast and brain. 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+
+
+Nathless, they say, dost thou appear in double form, 
+Beheld in Ilion, —in Egypt, too, beheld. 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+
+
+Make wholly not confused my clouded, wandering sense! 
+Even in this moment, who I am I cannot tell. 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+
+
+And then, they say, from out the hollow Realm of Shades 
+Achilles yet was joined in passion unto thee, 
+Who earlier loved thee, ’gainst all ordinances of Fate ! 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+To him, the Vision, I, a Vision, wed myself : 7 
+It was a dream, as even the words themselves declare. 
+I vanish hence, and to myself a Vision grow. 
+(Ske sinks into the arms of the SEMICHORUS.) 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT lll. 179 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+Silence! silence ! 
+False-seeing one, false-speaking one! 
+Out of the hideous, single-toothed 
+Mouth, what should be exhaled from 
+Such abominable horror-throat ! 
+For the Malevolent, seeming benevolent, — 
+Wolf’s wrath under the sheep’s woolly fleece, — 
+Fearfuller far is unto me than 
+Throat of the three-headed dog. 
+Anxiously listening stand we here. 
+When? how? where shall break again forth 
+Further malice 
+From the deeply-ambushed monster ? 
+
+
+Now, stead of friendly words and consoling, 
+Lethe-bestowing, gratefully mild, 
+
+Stirrest thou up from all the Past 
+
+Evillest more than good things, 
+
+And darkenest all at once 
+
+Both the gleam of the Present 
+
+And also the Future’s 
+
+Sweetly glimmering dawn of hope ! 
+
+
+Silence! silence! 
+
+That the Queen’s high spirit, 
+Nigh to forsake her now, 
+Hold out, and upbear yet 
+The Form of all forms 
+
+Which the sun shone on ever. 
+
+
+(HELENA Aas recovered, and stands again in the centre.) 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+
+
+Forth from transient vapors comes the lofty sun of this 
+bright day, 
+
+
+
+
+
+180 FAUST. 
+
+
+That, obscured, could so delight us, but in splendor 
+dazzles now. 
+
+As the world to thee is lovely, thou art lovely unto us; 
+
+Though as ugly they revile me, well 1 know the Beautiful. 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+
+Tottering step I from the Void that —dizzy, fainting, — 
+round me clused ; 
+
+And again would fain be resting, for so weary are my 
+limbs. 
+
+Yet to Queens beseemeth chiefly, as to all men it be- 
+seems, 
+
+Calm to be, and pluck up courage, whatsoe’er may 
+menace then. 
+
+
+PHORKYAS 
+
+
+Standing now in all thy greatness, and in all thy beauty, 
+here, 
+
+Says thine eye that thou commandest: what command’st 
+thou ? speak it out! 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+
+
+Be prepared, for much neglected in your quarrel, to atone! 
+Haste, a sacrifice to furnish, as the king hath ordered me! 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+
+
+All is ready in the palace — vessels, tripods, sharpened 
+axe, 
+For the sprinkling, fumigating : show to me the victim 
+now! 
+HELENA. 
+
+
+This the king not indicated. 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+Spake it not? O word of woe! 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT Wl. 181 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+What distress hath overcome thee ? 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+Queen, the offering art thou ! * 
+HELENA. 
+I? 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+And these. 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+Ah, woe and sorrow! 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+Thou shalt fall beneath the axe. 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+Fearful, yet foreboded! I, alas! 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+There seemeth no escape. 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+Ah! and what to us will happen ? 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+She will die a noble death ; 
+But upon the lofty beam, upholding rafter-frame and roof, 
+As in birding-time the throstles, ye in turn shall strug- 
+gling hang! 
+(HELENA and the CHORUS stand amazed and alarmed, in 
+striking, well-arranged groups.) 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+
+
+Ye Phantoms ! — like to frozen images ye stand, 
+In terror thus from Day to part, which is not yours. 
+
+
+182 FAUST. 
+
+
+Men, and the race of spectres like you, one and ail, 
+
+Renounce not willingly the bright beams of the sun; 
+
+But from the end may none implore or rescue them. 
+
+All know it, yet ’t is pleasant unto very few. 
+
+Enough! ye all are lost: now speedily to work ! 
+
+(She claps her hands: thereupon appear in the doorway muf- 
+fed dwarfish forms, which at once carry out with atacrity 
+the commands expressed.) 
+
+This way, ye gloomy, sphery-bodied monster throng! 
+
+Roll hitherwards ! ye here may damage as ye will. 
+
+The altar portable, the golden-horned, set up! 
+
+The axe let shimmering lie across the silver rim! 
+
+The urns of water fill! For soon, to wash away, 
+
+Shall be the black blood’s horrible and smutching stains. 
+
+Here spread the costly carpets out upon the dust, 
+
+That so the offering may kneel in queenly wise, 
+
+And folded then, although with severed head, at once 
+
+With decent dignity be granted sepulture ! 
+
+
+LEADER OF THE CHORUS. 
+
+
+The Queen is standing, sunk in thought, beside us here, 
+The maidens wither like the late-mown meadow grass ; 
+Methinks that I, the eldest, in high duty bound, 
+
+Should words exchange with thee, primeval eldest thou ! 
+Thou art experienced, wise, and seemest well-disposed, 
+Although this brainless throng assailed thee in mistake. 
+Declare then, if thou knowest, possible escape ! 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+’T is easy said. Upon the Queen it rests alone, 
+To save herself, and ye appendages with her. 
+But resolution, and the swiftest, needful is. 
+CHORUS. 
+
+
+Worthiest and most reverend of the Parcz, wisest sibyl 
+thou, 
+
+
+ACT I]. 183 
+
+
+Hold the golden shears yet open, then declare us Day 
+and Help! 
+
+We already feel discomfort of the soaring, swinging, 
+struggling ; 
+
+And our limbs in dances first would rather move in joy- 
+ous cadence, 
+
+Resting afterwards on lovers’ breasts. 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+Let these be timid! Pain I feel, but terror none; 
+Yet if thou know’st of rescue, grateful I accept ! 
+Unto the wise, wide-seeing mind is verily shown 
+The Impossible oft as possible. Then speak, and say! 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+Speak and tell us, tell us quickly, how escape we now 
+the fearful, 
+Fatal nooses, that so menace, like the vilest form of 
+necklace, 
+Wound about our tender throats? Already, in antici: 
+pation, 
+
+
+We can feel the choking, smothering — if thou, Rhea, 
+lofty Mother 
+Of the Gods, to mercy be not moved. 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+
+
+Have you then patience, such long-winded course of 
+speech 
+To hear in silence? Manifold the stories are. 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+Patience enough! Meanwhile, in hearing, still we live. 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+
+
+Whoso, to guard his noble wealth, abides at home, 
+And in his lofty dwelling well cements the chinks 
+
+
+184 FAUST. 
+
+
+And also from the pelting rain secures the roof, 
+
+With him, the long days of his life, shall all be well: 
+But whosoe’er his threshold’s holy square-hewn stone 
+Lightly with flying foot and guilty oversteps, 
+
+Finds, when he comes again, the ancient place, indeed, 
+But all things altered, if not utterly o’erthrown. 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+
+
+Wherefore declaim such well-known sayings here, as 
+these? 
+Thou wouldst narrate: then stir not up annoying themes! 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+
+
+It is historic truth, and nowise a reproach. 
+Sea-plundering, Menelaus steered from bay to bay; 
+He skirted as a foe the islands and the shores, 
+Returning with the booty, which in yonder rusts. 
+Then ten long years he passed in front of Ilion; 
+
+But for the voyage home how many know I not. 
+And now how is it, where we stand by Tyndarus’ 
+Exalted House? How is it with the regions round ? 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+
+
+Has then Abuse become incarnated in thee, 
+That canst not open once thy lips, except to blame ? 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+
+
+So many years deserted stood the valley-hills 
+
+That in the rear of Sparta northwards rise aloft, 
+Behind Taygetus; whence, as yet a nimble brook, 
+Eurotas downward rolls, and then, along our vale 
+
+By reed-beds broadly flowing, nourishes your swans. 
+Behind there in the mountain-dells a daring breed 
+Have settled, pressing forth from the Cimmerian Night, 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT Il. 185 
+
+
+And there have built a fortress inaccessible, 
+Whence land and people now they harry, as they please. 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+Have they accomplished that? Impossible it seems. 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+They had the time: it may be twenty years, in all. 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+Is one a Chicf? and are they robbers many — leagued? 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+
+
+Not robbers are they; yet of many one is Chief : ™ 
+
+I blame him not, although on me he also fell. 
+
+He might, indeed, have taken all; yet was content 
+With some /vee-gifts, he said: tribute he called it not. 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+How looked the man? 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+
+
+By no means ill: he pleased me well. 
+Cheerful and brave and bold, and nobly-formed is he, 
+A prudent man and wise, as few among the Greeks. 
+They call the race Barbarians ; yet I question much 
+If one so cruel be, as there by Ilion 
+In man-devouring rage so many heroes were ; 
+His greatness | respected, did confide in him. 
+And then, his fortress! That should ye yourselves 
+
+behold! 
+
+*T is something other than unwieldy masonry, 
+
+
+The which your fathers, helter-skelter tumbling, piled, — _ 
+
+
+Cyclopean like the Cyclops, stones undressed at once 
+Or stones undressed upheaving : there, however, there 
+
+
+186 FAUST. 
+
+
+All plumb and balanced is, conformed to square and rule. 
+Behold it from without! It rises heavenward up 
+So hard, so tight of joint, and mirror-smooth as steel. 
+To climb up there — nay, even your Thought itself slides 
+
+off ! 
+And mighty courts of ample space within, enclosed 
+Around with structures of all character and use. 
+There you see pillars, pillarets, arches great and small, 
+Balconies, galleries for looking out and in, 
+And coats of arms. 
+
+CHORUS. 
+
+
+What are they? 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+
+Ajax surely bore 
+A twisted serpent on his shield, as ye have seen. 
+The Seven also before Thebes had images, 
+Each one upon his shield, with many meanings rich. 
+One saw there moon and star on the nocturnal sky, 
+And goddesses, and heroes, ladders, torches, swords, - 
+And whatsoe’er afflicting threateneth good towns. 
+Such symbols also bore our own heroic band, 
+In shining tints, bequeathed from eldest ancestry. 
+You see there lions, eagles, likewise claws and beaks, 
+Then buffalo-horns, with wings and roses, peacock’s-tails, 
+And also bars — gold, black and silver, blue and red. 
+The like of these in halls are hanging, row on row, — 
+In halls unlimited and spacious as the world: 
+There might ye dance! 
+
+CHORUS. 
+
+
+But tell us, are there dancers there? 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+
+
+Ay, and the best! —a blooming, gold-haired throng of 
+boys, 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT III. 187 
+
+
+Breathing ambrosial youth! So only Paris breathed, 
+When he approached too nearly to the Queen. 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+Thou fall’st 
+
+
+Entirely from thy part: speak now the final word! 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+’Tis thou shalt speak it: say with grave distinctness, Yes! 
+Then straight will I surround thee with that fortress. 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+Speak, 
+O speak the one brief word, and save thyself and us! 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+
+
+What! Shan I fear King Menelaus may transgress 
+So most inhumanly, as thus to smite myself ? 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+
+
+Hast thou forgotten how he thy Deiphobus, 
+
+Brother of fallen Paris, who with stubborn claim 
+Took thee, the widow, as his fere, did visit with 
+Unheard-of mutilation? Nose and ears he cropped, 
+And otherwise disfigured: ’t was a dread to see. 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+That did he unto him: he did it for my sake. 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+Because of him he now will do the like to thee. 
+Beauty is indivisible :"° who once possessed 
+Her wholly, rather slays than only share in part. 
+( Trumpets in the distance: the CHORUS starts in terror.) 
+Even as the trumpet’s piercing clangor gripes and tears 
+The ear and entrail-nerves, thus Jealousy her claws 
+
+
+
+
+
+188 FAUST. 
+
+
+Drives in the bosom of the man, who ne’er forgets 
+What once was his, but now is lost, possessed no more. 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+
+
+Hear’st thou not the trumpets pealing? see’st thou not 
+the shine of swords? 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+King and Lord, be welcome hither! willing reckoning 
+will I give. 
+CHORUS. 
+What of us? 
+PHORKYAS. 
+
+
+You know it clearly, see her death before your eyes ; 
+There, within, your own shall follow: nay, there is no 
+help for you! 
+
+
+Pause. 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+
+
+What I may venture first to do, have I devised. 
+
+A hostile Demon art thou, that I feel full well, 
+
+And much I fear thou wilt convert the Good to Bad. 
+
+But first to yonder fortress now I follow thee; 
+
+What then shall come, I know: but what the Queen 
+thereby 
+
+As mystery in her deepest bosom may conceal, 
+
+Remain unguessed by all! Now, Ancient, lead the way! 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+O how gladly we go, 
+Hastening thither! 
+Chasing us, Death, 
+And, rising before us, 
+The towering castle’s 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT IU. 189 
+
+
+Inaccessible ramparts. 
+
+Guard us as well may they 
+
+As Ilion’s citadel-fort, 
+
+Which at last alone 
+
+Fell, through contemptible wiles ! 
+
+Mists arise and spread, obscuring the background, also the 
+
+nearer portion of the scene, at pleasure.) 
+
+How is it? how? 
+
+Sisters, look around! 
+
+Was it not cheerfullest day ? 
+
+Banded vapors are hovering up 
+
+Out of Eurotas’ holy stream; 
+
+Vanished een now hath the lovely 
+
+Reed-engarlanded shore from the sight, 
+
+Likewise the free, gracefully-proud, 
+
+Silently floating swans, 
+
+Mated in joy of their swimming, 
+
+See I, alas! no more. 
+
+
+Still — but still 
+
+Crying, I hear them, 
+
+Hoarsely crying afar! 
+opines death-presaging ! 
+
+Ah, may to us the tones not also, 
+Stead of deliverance promised, 
+Ruin announce at the last! — 
+Us, the swan-like and slender, 
+Long white-throated, and She, 
+Our fair swan-begotten. 
+
+Woe to us, woe! 
+
+
+All is covered and hid 
+
+Round us with vapor and cloud: 
+Each other behold we not! 
+What happens? do we advance? 
+
+
+190 FAUST. 
+
+
+Hover we only with 
+
+Skipping footstep along the ground? 
+
+Seest thou naught? Soars not even, perchance, 
+Hermes before us? Shines not the golden wand, 
+Bidding, commanding us back again 
+
+To the cheerless, gray-twilighted, 
+
+Full of impalpable phantoms, 
+
+Over-filled, eternally empty Hades ? 
+
+
+Yes, at once the air is gloomy, sunless vanish now the 
+vapors, 
+
+Gray and darkly, brown as buildings. Walls present 
+themselves before us, 
+
+Blank against our clearer vision. Is’t a court? a moat, 
+or pitfall ? 
+
+Fear-inspiring, any way! and Sisters, ah, behold us 
+prisoned, — 
+
+Prisoned now, as ne’er before ! 
+
+
+(Juner court-yard of a Castle, surrounded with rich, faw 
+tastic buildings of the Middle Ages.) 
+
+
+LEADER OF THE CHORUS. 
+
+
+Precipitate and foolish, type of women ye! 
+Dependent on the moment, sport of every breeze 
+That blows mischance or luck! and neither ever ye 
+Supported calmly. One is sure to contradict 
+
+The others fiercely, and cross-wise the others her: 
+Only in joy and pain ye howl and laugh alike. 
+
+Be silent now, and hearken what the Mistress here, 
+High-thoughted, may determine for herself and us ! 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+Where art thou, Pythoness? Whatever be thy name, 
+Step forth from out these arches of the gloomy keep! 
+if thou didst go, unto the wondrous hero-lord 
+
+
+ACT 1L1. 101 
+
+
+Me to announce, preparing thus reception fit, 
+Then take my thanks, and lead me speedily to him ! 
+| wish the wandering closed, I wish for rest alone. 
+
+
+LEADER OF THE CHORUS. 
+
+
+{n vain thou lookest, Queen, all ways around thee here3 
+That fatai shape hath vanished hence, perhaps remained 
+There in the mists, from out whose bosom hitherwards— 
+[ know not how — we came, swiftly, without a step. 
+Perhaps, indeed, she strays, lost in the labyrinth 
+
+Of many castles wondrously combined in one, 
+
+Seeking august and princely welcome from the lord. 
+But see! up yonder moves in readiness a crowd : 
+
+In galleries, at windows, through the portals, comes 
+
+A multitude of servants, hastening here and there ; 
+And this proclaims distinguished welcome to the guest. 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+
+
+My heart is relieved! O, yonder behold 
+
+How so orderly downward with lingering step 
+
+The crowd of the youths in dignity comes, 
+
+In regular march! Who hath given command 
+
+That they marshal in ranks, and so promptly disposed, 
+The youthfullest boys of the beautiful race ? 
+
+What shall most I admire? Js ’t the delicate gait, 
+
+Or the curls of the hair on the white of the brow, 
+
+Or the twin-rounded cheeks, blushing red like the peach, 
+And also, like them, with the silkiest down ? 
+
+Fain therein would I bite, yet I fear me to try ; 
+
+For, in similar case, was the mouth thereupor 
+
+Filled — I shudder to tell it ! — with ashes. 
+
+
+But they, the fairest, 
+Hither they come: 
+What do they bear ? 
+
+
+
+
+
+192- FAUST. 
+
+
+Steps to the throne 
+
+Carpet and seat, 
+
+Curtain and tent, 
+
+Or similar gear ; 
+
+Waving around, and 
+
+Cloudy wreaths forming 
+
+O’er the head of our Queen; 
+
+For she already ascendeth, 
+Invited, the sumptuous couch. 
+Come forward, now, 
+
+Step by step, 
+
+Solemnly ranged ! 
+
+Worthy, O, threefold worthy her, 
+May such a reception be blessed ! 
+
+
+(All that is described by the CHorRuS takes place by ~egrees 
+After the boys and squires have descended in a long proces 
+ston, FAUST appears above, at the head of the staircase, in 
+Anightly Court costume of the Middle Ages. and then corres 
+down slowly and with dignity.) 
+
+
+LEADER OF THE CHORUS 
+(observing him attentively). 
+
+
+If now, indeed, the Gods to this man have not lent — 
+
+As oft they do to men —a brave, transcendent form, 
+
+A winning presence, stately dignity of mien, 
+
+For temporary service, all be undertakes 
+
+Will always bring him triumph, whether in fight with 
+men, 
+
+Or in the minor wars with fairest ladies waged. 
+
+Him, verily, to hosts of others I prefer, 
+
+Whon, highly-famed withal, I have myself beheld. 
+
+With slow and solemn step, by reverence restrained, 
+
+I see the Prince approach: turn thou thy head, @ 
+Queen ! 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT U1. 193 
+
+
+FAUST 
+
+(approaching: a man in felters at his side). 
+Instead of solemn greeting, as beseems, 
+Or reverential welcome, bring I thee, 
+Fast-bound in welded fetters, here, the knave 
+Whose duty slighted cheated me of mine.'” 
+Kneel down, thou Culprit, that this lofty Dame 
+May hear the prompt confession of thy guilt! 
+This, Sovereign Mistress, is the man select 
+For piercing vision, on the turret high 
+Stationed to look around, the space of heaven 
+And breadth of earth to read with sharpest glance, 
+If here or there perchance come aught to view, — 
+Between the stronghold and the circling hills 
+If aught may move, whether the billowy herds 
+Or waves of arméd men: those we protect, 
+Encounter these. To-day — what negligence ! 
+Thou comest, he proclaims it not: we fail 
+In honorable reception, most deserved, 
+Of such high guest. Now forfeited hath he 
+His guilty life, and should have shed the blood 
+Of death deserved; but only thou shalt mete 
+Pardon or punishment, at thy good will. 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+So high the power, which thou hast granted me, 
+As Mistress and as Judge, although it were 
+(I may conjecture) meant but as a test, — 
+Yet now I use the Judge’s bounden right 
+To give the Accused a hearing: speak then, thou1 
+
+
+LYNCEUS, THE WARDER OF THE TOWER. 
+Let me kneel, and let me view her, 
+
+
+Let me live, or let me die! 
+VOL. II. 9 M 
+
+
+194 
+
+
+FA OST. 
+
+
+For enslaved, devoted to her, 
+This God-granted Dame, am I. 
+
+
+‘Watching for the Morn’s advancing 
+Where her pathways eastward run, 
+All at once, a sight entrancing, 
+
+In the South arose the sun."3 
+
+
+There to look, the Wonder drew me: 
+Not the glens, the summits cold, 
+
+
+Space of sky or landscape gloomy, — 
+Only Her did I behold. 
+
+
+Beam of sight to me was given, 
+Like the lynx on highest tree ; 
+
+But in vain I ’ve urged and striven, 
+*T was a dream that fettered me. 
+
+
+Could I know, or how be aided? 
+Think of tower or bolted gate? 
+Vapors rose and vapors faded, 
+And the Goddess came in state! 
+
+
+Eye and heart did I surrender 
+
+To the softly-shining spell : 
+Blinding all with Beauty’s splendor, 
+She hath blinded me, as well. 
+
+
+I forgot the warder’s duty 
+
+And the trumpet’s herald-call : 
+Threaten to destroy me! Beauty 
+Bindeth anger, frees her thrall. 
+
+
+H,SLENA. 
+
+
+The Evil which I bro ght, I dare no more 
+Chastise. Ah, woe to ne! What fate severe 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT Ll. 195 
+
+
+Pursues me, everywhere the breasts of men 
+
+So to infatuate, that nor them, nor aught 
+Besides of worth, they spare? Now plundering, 
+Seducing, fighting, hurried to and fro, 
+
+Heroes and Demigods, Gods, Demons even, 
+Hither and thither led me, sore-perplexed. 
+
+Sole, I the world bewildered, doubly more; 
+
+Now threefold, fourfold, woe on woe I bring. 
+Remove this guiltless man, let him go free! 
+
+The God-deluded merits no disgrace. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Amazed, O Queen, do I behold alike 
+
+The unerring archer and the stricken prey. 
+
+I see the bow, wherefrom the arrow sped 
+
+That wounded him. Arrows on arrows fly, 
+
+And strike me. I suspect the feathered hum 
+
+' Of bolts cross-fired through all the courts and towers. 
+What am I now? At once rebellious thou 
+Makest my faithfullest, and insecure 
+
+My walls. Thence do | fear that even my hosts 
+Obey the conquering and unconquered Dame. 
+What else remains, but that I give to thee . 
+Myself, and all I vainly fancied mine? 
+
+Let me, before thy feet, in fealty true, 
+
+Thee now acknowledge, Lady, whose approach 
+Won thee at once possession and the throne ! 
+
+
+LYNCEUS 
+(with a chest, and men who follow, bearing others). 
+Thou seest me, Queen, returned and free! 
+The wealthy begs a glance from thee : 
+
+
+Thee he beheld, and feeleth, since, 
+As beggar poor, yet rich as prince. 
+
+
+196 
+
+
+FAUST, 
+
+
+What was I erst? What now am I? 
+What shall I will ? — what do, or try? 
+What boots the eyesight’s sharpest ray? 
+Back from thy throne it bounds away. 
+
+
+Forth from the East we hither pressed,™ 
+And all was over with the West: 
+
+So long and broad the people massed, 
+The foremost knew not of the last. 
+
+
+The foremost fell, the second stood; 
+
+The third one’s lance was prompt and good; 
+Each one a hundred’s strength supplied : 
+Unnoted, thousands fell and died. 
+
+
+We onward pressed, in stormy chase; 
+The lords were we from place to place ; 
+And where, to-day, / ruled as chief, 
+The morrow brought another thief. 
+
+
+We viewed the ground, but viewed in haste: 
+The fairest woman one embraced, 
+One took the oxen from the stall; 
+The horses followed, one and all. 
+
+
+But my delight was to espy 
+
+What rarest was, to mind and eye ; 
+And all that others might amass 
+To me was so much withered grass. 
+
+
+I hunted on the treasure-trail 
+Where’er sharp sight could me avail: 
+In every pocket did I see, 
+
+And every chest was glass-to me. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT III. 197 
+
+
+And heaps of gold I came to own, 
+With many a splendid jewel-stone: 
+The emeralds only worthy seem 
+Greenly upon thy breast to gleam. 
+
+
+*Twixt lip and ear let swaying sleep 
+
+The pearly egg of Ocean’s deep ; 
+
+Such place the rubies dare not seek, 
+They ’re blanched beside the rosy cheek. 
+
+
+And thus, the treasure’s offering 
+
+I here before thy presence bring: 
+Laid at thy feet, be now revealed 
+The spoils of many a bloody field! 
+
+
+Though I have brought of chests a store, 
+Yet iron caskets have I more. 
+
+Let me attend thee, do thy will, 
+
+And I thy treasure-vaults will fill. 
+
+
+For scarcely didst thou mount the throne, 
+Than bowed to own and bent to own 
+
+Thy Beauty’s sway, that very hour, 
+Wisdom, and Wealth, and sovereign Power. 
+
+
+All such I held secure, as mine; 
+
+Now freed therefrom, behold it thine! 
+I deemed its worth and value plain; 
+Now see I, it was null and vain. 
+
+
+What I possessed from me doth pass, 
+Dispersed like mown and withered grass. 
+One bright and beauteous glance afford, 
+And all its worth is straight restored ! 
+
+
+198 FAUST. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Remove with speed the burden boldly won, 
+
+Not blamed, indeed, but neither with reward. 
+All is her own already, which the keep 
+
+Within it holds ; and special offer thus 
+
+Is useless. Go, and pile up wealth on wealth 
+In order fit! Present the show august 
+
+Of splendors yet unseen! The vaulted halls 
+Make shine like clearest heaven! Let Paradise 
+From lifeless pomp of life created be! 
+Hastening, before her footsteps be unrolled 
+The flower-embroidered carpets! Let her tread 
+Fall on the softest footing, and her glance, 
+Gods only bear undazed, on proudest pomp! 
+
+
+LYNCEUS. 
+
+
+What the lord commands is slight ; 
+For the servants, labor light: 
+
+Over wealth and blood and breath 
+This proud Beauty governeth. 
+
+Lo! thy warrior-throngs are tame ; 
+All the swords are blunt and lame; 
+Near the bright form we behold 
+Even the sun is pale and cold; 
+Near the riches of her face 
+
+All things empty, shorn of grace. 
+
+
+HELENA (fo Faust). 
+
+
+Fain to discourse with thee, I bid thee come 
+Up hither to my side! The empty place 
+Invites its lord, and thus secures me mine. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+First, kneeling, let the dedication be 
+Accepted, lofty Lady! Let me kiss 
+
+
+ACT I. 199 
+
+
+The gracious hand that lifts me to thy side. 
+Confirm me as co-regent of thy realm, 
+
+Whose borders are unknown, and win for thee 
+Guard, slave and worshipper, and all in one! 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+I hear and witness marvels manifold ; 
+Amazement takes me, much would I inquire. 
+Yet now instruct me wherefore spake the man 
+With strangely-sounding speech, friendly and strange: 
+Each sound appeared as yielding to the next," 
+And, when a word gave pleasure to the ear, 
+Another came, caressing then the first. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+If thee our people’s mode of speech delight, 
+O thou shalt be enraptured with our song, 
+Which wholly satisfies both ear and mind! 
+But it were best we exercise it now: 
+Alternate speech entices, calls it forth. 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+Canst thou to me that lovely speech impart? 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+"T is easy: it must issue from the heart; 
+And if the breast with yearning overflow, 
+One looks around, and asks — 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+Who shares the glow. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Nor Past nor Future shades an hour like this ; 
+But wholly in the Present — 
+
+
+
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+200 
+HELENA. 
+Is our bliss. 
+
+FAUST. 
+Gain, pledge, and fortune in the Present stand: 
+What confirmation does it ask? 
+
+HELENA. 
+
+My hand. 
+CHORUS. 
+
+
+Who would take it amiss, that our Princess 
+Granteth now to the Castle’s lord 
+Friendliest demonstration ? 
+
+For, indeed, collectively are we 
+
+Captives, as ofttimes already, 
+
+Since the infamous downfall 
+
+Of Ilion, and the perilous, 
+
+Labyrinthine, sorrowful voyage. 
+
+
+Women, to the love of men accustomed, 
+Dainty choosers are they not, 
+
+But proficients skilful ; 
+
+And unto golden-haired shepherds, 
+Perchance black, bristly Fauns, too, 
+Even as comes opportunity, 
+
+Unto the limbs in their vigor 
+
+Fully award they an equal right. 
+
+
+Near, and nearer already sit 
+
+They, to each other drawn, 
+Shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee; 
+Hand in hand, they bend and sway 
+Dver the throne’s 
+
+Softly-pillowed, luxurious pomp. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT Wi. 20% 
+
+
+Majesty here not withholds its 
+Secretest raptures, 
+
+Wiblfully, boldly revealed 
+
+Thus to the eyes of the people. 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+
+
+I feel so far away, and yet so near; 
+And am so fain to say: “Here am 1! here.” 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+I scarcely breathe ; I tremble; speech is dead: 
+It is a dream, and day and place have fled. 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+
+
+I seem as life were done, and yet so new, 
+Blent thus with thee, — to thee, the Unknown, true! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+To probe this rarest fate be not impelled ! 
+Being is duty, though a moment held. 
+
+
+PHORKYAS (violently entering). 
+
+
+Spell in lovers’ primers sweetly ! 
+
+Probe and dally, cosset featly, 
+
+Test your wanton sport completely ! 
+
+But there is not time, nor place. 
+
+Feel ye not the gloomy presage ? 
+
+Hear ye not the trumpet’s message r 
+
+For the ruin comes apace. 
+
+Menelaus with his legions 
+
+Storms across the hither regions ; 
+
+Call to battle all your race! 
+
+By the victors execrated, 
+
+Like Deiphobus mutilated, 
+
+Thou shalt pay for woman’s grace: 
+Q* 
+
+
+202 FAUST. 
+
+
+First shall dangle every light one, 
+At the altar, then, the Bright One 
+Find the keen axe in its place! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Disturbance rash! repulsively she presses in ; 
+
+Not even in danger meet is senseless violence. 
+
+Ill message makes the fairest herald ugly seem ; 
+
+Thou, Ugliest, delightest but in evil news. 
+
+Yet this time shalt thou not succeed ; with empty breath 
+Stir, shatter thou the air! There is no danger here, 
+And unto us were danger but an idle threat. 
+
+
+(Signals, explosions from the towers," trumpets and cornets, 
+martial music. A powerful armed force marches past.) 
+No! hero-bands, none ever braver, 
+At once shalt thou assembled see : 
+He, sole, deserves the ladies’ favor, 
+Whose arm defends them gallantly. 
+
+
+(70 the leaders of the troops, who detach themselves from the 
+columns, and come forwards.) 
+With rage restrained, in silence banded, 
+And certain of the victory-feast, 
+Ye, Northern blossoms, half expanded, 
+Ye, flowery fervors of the East ! 
+
+
+The light upon their armor breaking, 
+They plundered realm on realm, at will: 
+They come, and lo! the earth is quaking ; 
+They march away, it thunders still! 
+
+
+In Pylos we forsook the waters ; 
+
+The ancient Nestor is no more, 
+
+And soon our lawless army scatters 
+The troops of kings on Grecian shore. 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT Il. 203 
+
+
+Back from these walls, no more delaying, 
+Drive Menelaus to the sea! 
+
+There let him wander, robbing, slaying, 
+As was his wish and destiny. 
+
+
+I hail you Dukes, as forth ye sally 
+Beneath the rule of Sparta’s Queen ! 
+Now lay before her mount and valley, 
+And you shall share the kingdom green! 
+
+
+Thine, German, be the hand that forges 
+Defence for Corinth and her bays : 
+Achaia, with its hundred gorges, 
+
+I give thee, Goth, to hold and raise. 
+
+
+Towards Elis, Franks, direct your motion ; 
+Messene be the Saxon’s state : 
+
+The Norman claim and sweep the ocean, 
+And Argolis again make great! 
+
+
+Then each shall dwell in homes well-dowered, 
+And only outer foemen meet; 
+
+Yet still by Sparta over-towered, 
+
+The Queen’s ancestral, ancient seat. 
+
+
+Each one shall she behold, abiding 
+In lands that lack no liberal right ; 
+And at her feet ye ll seek, confiding, 
+Your confirmation, law and light ! 
+
+[Faust descends from the throne: the Princes form a cirest 
+around him, in order to receive special commands and tin- 
+structions.) 
+
+CHORUS. 
+Who for himself the Fairest desires, 
+First. of all things, let him 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+204 FAUST. 
+
+
+Bravely and wisely a weapon acquire ! 
+Flattering, indeed, he may conquer 
+What on earth is the highest; 
+
+But he quietly may not possess. 
+
+Wily sneaks entice her away, 
+Robbers boldly abduct her from him: 
+This to hinder be he prepared! 
+
+
+Therefore now our Prince I praise, 
+Holding him higher than others, 
+
+Since he wisdom and strength combines, 
+So that the strong men obedient stand, 
+Waiting his every beckon. 
+
+They his orders faithfully heed, 
+
+Each for the profiting of himself 
+
+As for the Ruler’s rewarding thanks, 
+And for the highest renown of both. 
+
+
+For who shall tear her away 
+
+Now, from the mighty possessor ? 
+
+His is she, and to him be she granted, 
+
+Doubly granved by us, whom he, 
+
+Even as her, within by sure walls hath surrounded, 
+And without by a powerful host. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+The gifts they ’ve won by our concession, — 
+In fee to each a wealthy land, — 
+
+
+Are grand and fair: grant them possession ! 
+We in the midst will take our stand. 
+
+
+And they in rivalry protect thee, 
+
+Half-Island, girdled by the sea 
+
+With whispering waves, — whose soft hill-chains connect 
+thee 
+
+With the last branch of Europe’s mountain-tree ! 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT J11. 205 
+
+
+This land, before all lands in splendor,*"” 
+On every race shall bliss confer, — 
+Which to my queen in glad surrender 
+Yiclds, as it first looked up to her, 
+
+
+When, ’mid Eurotas’ whispering rushes 
+She burst from Leda’s purple shell, 
+
+So blinding in her beauty’s flushes, 
+That mother, brothers, felt the spell ! 
+
+
+This Jond, which seeks thy sole direction, 
+Its brightest bloom hath now unfurled : 
+Prefer thy fatherland’s affection 
+
+To what is wholly thine, the world ! 
+
+
+And though upon its ridgy backs of mountains 
+The Sun’s cold arrow smites each cloven head, 
+Yet, where the rock is greened by falling fountains, 
+The wild-goat nibbles and is lightly fed. 
+
+
+The springs leap forth, the streams united follow ; 
+Green are the gorges, slopes, and meads below: 
+On hundred hillsides, cleft with many a hollow, 
+Thou seest the woolly herds like scattered snow. 
+
+
+Divided, cautious, graze with measured paces 
+The cattle onward to the dizzy edge, 
+
+Yet for them all are furnished sheltered places, 
+Whcre countless caverns arch the rocky ledge. 
+
+
+Pan guards them there, and nymphs of life are dwelling 
+In bushy clefts, that moist and freshest be; 
+
+And yearningly to higher regions swelling, 
+
+The branches crowd aloft of tree on tree. 
+
+
+206 FAUST. 
+
+
+Primeval woods! the strong oak there is regnant, 
+And bough crooks out from bough in stubborn state ; 
+The maple mild, with sweetest juices pregnant, 
+Shoots cleanly up, and dallies with its weight. 
+
+
+And motherly, in that still realm of shadows, 
+
+The warm milk flows, for child’s and lambkin’s lips: 
+At hand is fruit, the food of fertile meadows, 
+
+And from the hollow trunk the honey drips. 
+
+
+Here comfort is in birth transmitted ; 
+To cheek and lip here joy is sent: 
+Each is immortal in his station fitted, 
+And all are healthy and content. 
+
+
+And thus the child in that bright season gaineth 
+The father-strength, as in a dream : 
+
+We wonder; yet the question still remaineth, 
+
+If they are men, when Gods they seem. 
+
+
+So was Apollo shepherd-like in feature, 
+
+That other shepherds were as fair and fleet; 
+For where in such clear orbit moveth Nature, 
+All worlds in inter-action meet.'® 
+
+
+( Zaking his seat beside her.) 
+
+
+Thus hath success my fate and thine attended ; 
+Herceforth behind us let the Past be furled ! 
+O, feel thyself from highest God descended ! 
+For thou belongest to the primal world. 
+
+
+Thy life shall circumscribe no fortress frowning! 
+Still, in eternal youth, stands as it stood, 
+
+For us, our stay with every rapture crowning, 
+Arcadia in Sparta’s neighborhood. 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT M11. 207 
+
+
+To tread this happy soil at last incited, 
+Thy flight was towards a joyous destiny ! 
+Now let our throne become a bower unblighted, 
+Our bliss become Arcadian and free ! 
+| The scene of action is completely transformed. Against a range 
+of rocky caverns close bowers are constructed. A shadowy 
+grove extends to the foot of the rocks which rise on all sides. 
+Faust and HELENA are not seen: the CHORUS lies scattered 
+about, sleeping.] 
+PHORKYAS. 
+How long these maidens have been sleeping, know I not: 
+If they allowed themselves to dream what now mine eyes 
+So clearly saw, is equally unknown to me. 
+Therefore, I wake them. They, the Young, shall be 
+amazed, — 
+Ye also, Bearded Ones, who sit below and wait,» — 
+Solution of these marvels finally to see. 
+Awake! arise! and shake from off your locks the dew, 
+The slumber from your eyes! Listen, and cease to blink! 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+
+Speak and tell us, quickly tell us, all the wonders that 
+have happened ! 
+
+We shall hear with greater pleasure, if belief we cannot 
+give it, 
+
+For both eye and mind are weary, to behold these rocks 
+alone. 
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+
+Children, you have hardly rubbed your eyes, and are you 
+weary now ? 
+
+Hear me, then! Within these caverns, in the grottos 
+and the arbors, 
+
+Screen and shelter have been lent, as unto twain idyllic 
+lovers, 
+
+To our Lord and to our Lady. 
+
+
+208 FAUST. 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+How? within there? 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+Separated 
+From the world, me only did they summon to their quiet 
+service. 
+Honored thus, I stood beside them, but, as fit in one so 
+trusted, 
+Looked around at something other, turning here and there 
+at random, — 
+Seeking roots, and bark, and mosses, being skilled in 
+healing simples, — 
+And the twain were left alone. 
+CHORUS. 
+Speakest thou as if within were spaces roomy as the 
+
+
+world is: 
+Wood and meadow, lakes and rivers, — what a fable 
+dost thou spin! 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+
+
+Certainly, ye Inexperienced! Those are unexplored 
+recesses : 
+
+Hall on hall, and court on court succeeding, musingly I 
+tracked. 
+
+All at once a laughter echoes through the spaces of the 
+caverns ; 
+
+As I look, a Boy is leaping from the mother’s lap to 
+father’s, 
+
+From the father to the mother: the caressing and the 
+dandling, 
+
+Teasing pranks of silly fondness, cry of sport and shout 
+of rapture, 
+
+They, alternate, deafen me. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT IIT 209 
+
+
+He, a Genius naked, wingless, like a Faun without the 
+beasthood, 
+Leaps upon the solid pavement; yet the pavement now 
+reacting, 
+Sends him flying high in air, and at the second bound 
+or third, he 
+Seems to graze the vaulted roof. 
+Cries, disquieted, the mother: “ Leap repeatedly, at 
+“pleasure, 
+But beware of flying! for prohibited is flight to thee.” 
+And thus warns the faithful father: “ Dwells in earth 
+the force elastic 
+Which thee upwards thus impelleth ; touch but with thy 
+toe the surface, 
+Like the son of Earth, Antzus, straightway art thou 
+strong again.” 
+So he springs upon the rocky masses, from a dizzy 
+cornice 
+To another, and around, as springs a ball when sharply 
+struck. 
+Yet, a-sudden, in a crevice of the hollow gulf he ’s van- 
+ished, 
+And it seemeth we have lost him! Mother mourns, and 
+father comforts, 
+Shoulder-shrugging, anxiously I stand. But now, again, 
+what vision ! 
+Are there treasures yonder hidden? Garments striped 
+with broidered blossoms 
+Hath he werthily assumed. 
+Tassels from his shoulders swaying, fillets flutter round 
+his bosom, 
+In his hand the golden lyre, completely like a little 
+Phebus, 
+Cheerily to the brink he steps, the jutting edge: we 
+stand astounded, 
+
+
+210 FAUST. 
+
+
+And the parents in their rapture clasp each other to the 
+heart. 
+
+What around his head is shining? What it is, were 
+hard to warrant, 
+
+Whether golden gauds, or flame of all-subduing strength 
+of soul. 
+
+So he moves with stately gesture, even as boy himself 
+proclaiming 
+
+Future Master of all Beauty, all the melodies eternal 
+
+Throbbing in his flesh and blood; and you shall thus, 
+delighted, hear him, — 
+
+Thus shall you behold him, with a wonder never felt 
+before ! 
+
+CHORUS. 
+
+
+Call’st thou a marvel this, 
+Creta’s begotten ? 
+Poetic-didactical word 
+
+Hast thou listened to never? 
+Never yet hearkened Ionia’s 
+Never received also Hellas’ 
+Godlike, heroical treasure 
+
+Of ancient, primitive legends ? 
+
+
+All that ever happens 
+
+Now in the Present 
+
+Mocks like a mournful echo 
+
+The grander days of the Fathers. 
+Not comparable is thy story 
+Unto that loveliest falsehood, 
+Than Truth more credible, 
+
+Sung of the Son of Maia! 
+
+
+This strong and delicate, yet 
+Scarcely delivered suckling, 
+Swathe yc in purest downy bands, 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT If. aIt 
+
+
+Bind ye in precious diapered stuffs, 
+As is the gossiping nurse’s 
+Unreasonable notion! 
+
+Strongly and daintily draws, no less, 
+Now the rogue the flexible, 
+
+Firm yet elastic body 
+
+Cunningly out, and leaveth the close, 
+Purple, impeding shell 
+
+Quietly there in its place, 
+
+Like the completed butterfly, 
+
+Which from the chilly chrysalid 
+Nimbly, pinion-unfolding, slips, 
+
+Boldly and wilfully fluttering through 
+Sunshine-pervaded ether. 
+
+So he, too, the sprightliest : 
+
+That unto thieves and jugglers — 
+
+All the seekers of profit, as well, — 
+
+He the favorable Demon was, 
+
+Did he speedily manifest 
+
+By the skilfullest artifice. 
+
+Straight from the Ruler of Ocean stole 
+He the trident, — from Arés himself 
+Slyly the sword from the scabbard ; 
+Arrows and bow from Phebus, and then 
+‘Yongs that Hephestos was using. 
+Even from Zeus, the Father, bolts had he 
+Filched, had the fire not scared him. 
+Eros, also, he overcame 
+
+In leg-tripping wrestling match ; 
+
+Then from Cypris, as she caressed him, 
+Plundered the zone from her bosom. 
+
+LAve exquisite, purely melodious music of stringed tnst7isients 
+resounds from the cavern. All become attentive, ana soot 
+abpear to be deeply moved. From this point to the paust 
+designated, there is a full musical accompaniment.) 
+
+
+212 FAUST. 
+
+
+PHORKYAS. 
+Hark! the music, pure and golden 3 
+Free from fables be at last! 
+
+
+All your Gods, the medley olden, 
+Let depart! their day is past. 
+
+
+You no more are comprehended ; 
+We require a higher part: 
+
+By the heart must be expended 
+What shall work upon the heart. 
+
+
+(Ske retires towards the rocks.) 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+
+
+If the flattering music presses, 
+Fearful Being, to thine ears, 
+
+We, restored to health, confess us 
+Softened to the joy of tears. 
+
+
+Let the sun be missed from heaven, 
+When the soul is bright with morn! 
+What the world has never given 
+Now within our hearts is born. 
+
+
+(HELENA. Faust. EUPHORION st the costume already dc 
+scribed.) 
+
+
+EUPHORION.!3! 
+
+
+Hear ye songs of childish pleasure, 
+Ye are moved to playful glee ; 
+Seeing me thus dance in measure, 
+Leap your hearts parentally. 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+Love, in human wise to bless us, 
+In a noble Pair must be; 
+But divinely to possess us, 
+It must form a precious Three. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT III. 213 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+All we seek has therefore found us ; 
+I am thine and thou art mine! 
+
+So we stand as Love hath bound us: 
+Other fortune we resign. 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+
+
+Many years shall they, delighted, 
+Gather from the shining boy 
+Double bliss for hearts united : 
+In their union what a joy! 
+
+
+EUPHORION. 
+
+
+Let me be skipping, 
+
+Let me be leaping! 
+
+lv soar and circle, 
+Through ether sweeping, 
+Is now the passion 
+
+That me hath won. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+But gently! gently! 
+Not rashly faring ; 
+Lest plunge and ruin 
+Repay thy daring, 
+Perchance destroy thee, 
+Our darling son ! 
+
+
+EUPHORION. 
+
+
+I will not longer 
+Stagnate below here ! 
+Let go my tresses, 
+
+My hands let go, herc! 
+Let go my garments ! 
+They all are mine. 
+
+
+at4 
+
+
+FAOST. 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+
+
+O think! Bethink thee 
+To whom thou belongest ! 
+How it would grieve us, 
+And how thou wrongest 
+The fortune fairest, — 
+Mine, His, and Thine! 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+
+
+Soon shall, I fear me, 
+The sweet bond untwine ! 
+
+
+HELENA AND FAUST. 
+
+
+Curb, thou Unfortunate ! 
+For our desiring, 
+
+Thine over-importunate 
+Lofty aspiring ! 
+
+Rurally quiet, 
+
+Brighten the plain! 
+
+
+EUPHORION. 
+
+
+Since you will that I try it, 
+My flight I restrain. 
+
+
+(Winding in dance through the CHORUS, and arawing them 
+
+
+with him.) 
+Round them I hover free ; 
+Gay is the race: 
+Is this the melody ? 
+Move I with grace? 
+
+
+HELENA. 
+
+
+Yes, that is featly done: 
+Lead them through, every one, 
+Mazes of art! 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT Ii. ag 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Soon let it ended be! 
+Sight of such jugglery 
+Troubles my heart. 
+
+
+CHORUS 
+(with EUPHORION, dancing nimbly and singing, in interlink- 
+
+ing ranks). 
+When thou thine arms so fair 
+Charmingly liftest, 
+The curls of thy shining hair 
+Shakest and shiftest ; 
+When thou, with foot so light, 
+Brushest the earth in flight, 
+Hither and forth again 
+Leading the linkéd chain, 
+Then is thy goal in sight, 
+Loveliest Boy ! 
+All of our hearts in joy 
+Round thee unite. 
+
+Pause. 
+
+
+EUPHORION. 
+
+
+Not yet repose, 
+
+Ye light-footed roes ! 
+Now to new play 
+Forth, and away ! 
+
+I am the hunter, 
+You are the game. 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+Wouldst thou acquire us, 
+Be not so fast ! 
+
+We are desirous 
+
+
+216 
+
+
+FAUS7: 
+
+
+Only, at last, 
+Clasping thy beauty, 
+Kisses to claim! 
+
+
+EUPHORION. 
+
+
+Through groves and through hedges! 
+O’er cliffs and o’er ledges ! 
+
+Lightly what fell to me, 
+
+That I detest: 
+
+What I compel to me 
+
+Pleases me best. 
+
+
+HELENA AND FAUST. 
+How perverse, how wild he’s growing! 
+Vain to hope for moderation ; 
+Now it sounds like bugles blowing, 
+Over vale and forest pealing : 
+What disorder! What a bravl! 
+
+
+CHORUS 
+(entering singly, in haste). 
+Forth from us with swiftness ran he! 
+Spurning us with scornful feeling, 
+Now he drags from out the many 
+Here, the wildest one of all. 
+
+
+EUPHORION (bearing a young MAIDEN). 
+
+
+Here I drag the little racer, 
+
+And by force will I embrace her ; 
+For my bliss and for my zest 
+Press the fair, resisting breast, 
+Kiss the mouth, repellent still, — 
+Manifest my strength and will. 
+
+
+MAIDEN. 
+Let me go! This frame infoldeth 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT Ill. 217 
+
+
+Also courage, strength of soul: 
+Strong as thine, our will upholdeth, 
+When another would control. 
+
+I am in a strait, thou deemest ? 
+
+What a force thine arm would claim ! 
+Hold me, Fool, and ere thou dreamest 
+I will scorch thee, in my game. 
+
+
+(She turns to flame and flashes up in the air.) 
+To the airy spaces follow, . 
+
+
+Follow me to caverns hollow, 
+Snatch and hold thy vanished aim! 
+
+
+EUPHORION 
+(shaking off the last flames). 
+
+Rocks all around me here, 
+Over the forests hung! 
+Why should they bound me here ? 
+Still am I fresh and young. 
+Tempests are waking now, 
+Billows are breaking now: 
+Both far away I hear; 
+Fain would be near. 
+
+(He leaps ever farther up the rocks.) 
+
+
+HELENA, FAUST, AND CHORUS. 
+
+
+Chamois-like, dost thou aspire ? 
+Fearful of the fall are we. 
+
+
+EUPHORION. 
+
+
+I must clamber ever higher, 
+Ever further must I see. 
+
+
+Now, where I am, I spy! 
+Midst of the Isle am I: 
+VOL. IL 10 
+
+
+218 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Midst of Pelops’ land, 
+Kindred in soul, I stand ! 
+
+
+
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+
+
+Bide thou by grove and hill, 
+Peacefully, rather ! 
+
+We from the vineyards will 
+Grapes for thee gather, — 
+Grapes from the ridges tanned, 
+Figs, and the apple’s gold: 
+
+Ah! yet the lovely land, 
+Loving, behold ! 
+
+
+EUPHORION. 
+
+
+Dream ye the peaceful day ? 
+Dream, then, who may! 
+War ! is the countersign : 
+Victory — word divine ! 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+
+
+Who peace and unity 
+Scorneth, for war’s array, 
+With impunity 
+
+Slays his hope of a better day. 
+
+
+EUPHORION. 
+
+
+They, who this land have led 
+Through danger and dread, 
+Free, boundlessly brave, 
+Lavish of blood they gave, — 
+May they, with glorious 
+Untamable might, 
+
+Make us victorious, 
+
+Now, in the fight! 
+
+
+ACT I. 219 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+
+
+Look aloft! he seeks the Farness, 
+Yet to us not small he seems. 
+
+As for battle, as in harness, 
+
+He like steel and silver gleams. 
+
+
+EUPHORION. 
+
+
+Walls and towers no more immuring, 
+Each in vigor stands confessed ! 
+Fortress firm and most enduring 
+
+Is the soldier’s iron breast. 
+
+
+Would ye dwell in freemen’s houses? 
+Arm, and forth to combat wild! 
+
+See, as Amazons, your spouses, 
+
+And a hero every child ! 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+
+
+Hallowed Poesy, 
+Heavenward mounting, see! 
+Shining, the fairest star, 
+Farther, and still more far ! 
+Yet, from the distance blown, 
+Hear we the lightest tone, 
+And raptured are. 
+
+
+EUPHORION. 
+
+
+No, ’t is no child which thou beholdest — 
+A youth in arms, with haughty brow! 
+And with the Strongest, Freest, Boldest, 
+His soul is pledged, in manly vow. 
+
+I go! 
+
+For, lo! 
+
+The path to Glory opens now.'3 
+
+
+220 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+HELENA AND FAUST. 
+Thou thy being scarcely learnest, 
+Scarcely feel’st the Day’s glad beam, 
+When from giddy steeps thou yearnest 
+For the place of pain supreme! 
+Are then we 
+Naught to thee? 
+Is the gracious bond a dream ? 
+
+
+EUPHORION. 
+And hear ye thunders on the ocean? 
+From land the thunder-echoes call ? 
+In dust and foam, with fierce commotion, 
+The armies shock, the heroes fall! 
+The command 
+Is, sword in hand, 
+To die: ’t is certain, once for all. 
+
+
+HELENA, FAUST, AND CHORUS. 
+What a horror! We shall rue it! 
+Ah, is Death command to thee? 
+
+
+EUPHORION. 
+Shall I from the distance view it? 
+No! the fate be shared by me! 
+
+
+THE ABOVE. 
+Danger his arrogance brings: 
+Fatally bold ! 
+
+
+EUPHORION. 
+Yes !— and a pair of wings 
+See me unfold ! 
+Thither! I must!—and thus! 
+Grant me the flight! 
+
+
+[He casts himself into the air: the garments bear him a mo- 
+ment, his head is illuminated, and a streak of light follows.] 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT M11. ast 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+Icarus! Icarus! 
+Sorrowful sight! 
+
+
+[A beautiful Youth falls at the feet of the parents. We imagine 
+that in the dead body we perceive a well-known form ; yet 
+the corporeal part vanishes at once, and the aureole rises like 
+@ comet towards heaven. The garment, mantle, and lyre 
+remain upon the ground.) 
+
+
+HELENA AND FAUST. 
+
+
+Joy is followed, when scarce enjoyed, 
+By bitterest moan. 
+
+
+EUPHORION (/rom the depths). 
+
+
+Leave me here, in the gloomy Void, 
+Mother, not thus alone! 
+
+
+Pause. 
+
+
+CHORUS. [Dirge.]'™ 
+Not alone! where’er thou bidest ; 
+For we know thee what thou art. 
+Ah! if from the Day thou hidest, 
+Still to thee will cling each heart. 
+Scarce we venture to lament thee, 
+Singing, envious of thy fate; 
+For in storm and sun were lent thee 
+Song and courage, fair and great. 
+
+
+Ah! for earthly fortune fashioned, 
+Strength was thine, and proud descent: 
+Early erring, o’er-impassioned, 
+
+Youth, alas! from thee was rent. 
+
+For the world thine eye was rarest, 
+
+All the beart to thee was known: 
+
+
+FA OST. 
+
+
+Thine were loves of women fairest, 
+
+
+And a song thy very own. 
+
+
+Yet thou rannest uncontrolledly 
+
+In the net the fancies draw, 
+
+Thus thyself divorcing boldly 
+
+As from custom, so from law; 
+
+Till the highest thought expended 
+
+Set at last thy courage free: 
+
+Thou wouldst win achievement splendid, 
+But it was not given to thee. 
+
+
+Unto whom, then? Question dreary, 
+Destiny will never heed ; 
+
+When in evil days and weary, 
+Silently the people bleed. 
+
+But new songs shall still elate them : 
+Bow no longer and deplore ! 
+
+For the soil shall generate them, 
+
+As it hath done heretofore. 
+
+
+Complete pause. The music ceases. 
+
+
+HELENA (fo Faust). 
+
+
+Also in me, alas! an old word proves its truth, 
+That Bliss and Beauty ne’er enduringly unite. 
+Torn is the link of Life, no less than that of Love; 
+So, both lamenting, painfully I say: Farewell! 
+And cast myself again — once only — in thine arms. 
+Receive, Persephone, receive the boy and me. 
+
+(She ensbraces FAUST : her corporeal part disappears, her gare 
+
+
+ment and veil remain in his arms.) 
+
+
+PHORKYAS (fo Faust). 
+
+
+Hold fast what now alone remains to thee ! 
+The garment let not go! Already twitch 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT 1171. 423 
+
+
+The Demons at its skirts, and they would fain 
+To the Nether Regions drag it! Hold it fast! 
+It is no more the Goddess thou hast lost, 
+But godlike is it. For thy use employ 
+The grand and priceless gift, and soar aloft! 
+*T will bear thee swift from all things mean and low 
+To ether high, so long thou canst endure. 
+We'll meet again, far, very far from here. 
+(HELENA’S gurments dissolve into clouds,'°5 surround FAUST, 
+lift him aloft in the air, and move away with him.) 
+
+
+PHORKYAS 
+(takes up EUPHORION’S tunsc, mantle, and lyre from the earth, 
+
+steps forward to the proscensum, holds aloft these remains, and 
+speaks). 
+
+Good leavings have I still discovered ! 
+
+The Flame has vanished where it hovered, 
+
+Yet for the world no tears I spend. 
+
+Enough remains to start the Poets living, 
+
+And envy in their guilds to send ; 
+
+And, if their talents are beyond my giving, 
+
+At least the costume I can lend. 
+
+(She seats herself upon a column in the proscenium.) 
+
+
+PANTHALIS. 
+
+
+Now hasten, maidens! we are from the magic freed, 
+
+The old Thessalian trollop’s mind-compelling spell, — 
+
+Freed from the Jingling drone of much-bewildering 
+sound, 
+
+The ear confusing, and still more the inner sense. 
+
+Down, then, to Hades! since beforehand went the 
+Queen, 
+
+With solemn step descending. Now, upon the track, 
+
+Let straightway follow her the step of faithful maids! 
+
+Her shall we find beside the unfathomed, gloomy King. 
+
+
+224 FAUST. 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+
+
+Queens, of course, are satisfied everywhere: 
+Even in Hades take they highest rank, 
+Proudly associate with their peers, 
+With Persephone closely allied: 
+
+We, however, in the background 
+
+Of the asphodel-besprinkled meadows, 
+With the endless rows of poplars 
+
+And the fruitless willows ever mated, — 
+What amusement, then, have we ? 
+Bat-like to squeak and twitter 
+
+In whispers uncheery and ghostly ! 
+
+
+LEADER OF THE CHORUS. 
+
+
+Who hath not won a name, and seeks not noble works, 
+Belongs but to the elements: away then, ye! 
+My own intense desire is with my Queen to be ; 
+Service and faith secure the individual life.** 
+[ Exit. 
+ALL. 
+
+
+Given again to the daylight are we, 
+Persons no more, ’t is true, — 
+
+We feel it and know it, — 
+
+But to Hades return we never! 
+Nature, the Ever-living,'” 
+
+Makes to us spirits 
+
+Validest claim, and we to her also. 
+
+
+A PART OF THE CHORUS. 
+We, in trembling whispers, swaying rustle of a thousand 
+branches 
+Sweetly rocked, will lightly lure the rills of life, the 
+rootborn, upwards 
+To the twigs; and, or with foliage or exuberant gush 
+of blossoms, 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT III. 225 
+
+
+Will we freely deck their flying hair for prosperous airy 
+growth. 
+
+Then, when falls the fruit, will straightway gather glad- 
+dened herds and people, 
+
+Swiftly coming, briskly pressing, for the picking and 
+the tasting: 
+
+All, as if before the early Gods, will then around us 
+bend. 
+
+
+A SECOND PART. 
+
+
+We, beside these rocks, upon the far-off shining, glassy 
+mirror, 
+
+Coaxingly will bend and fluctuate, moving with the gen- 
+tle waters ; 
+
+We to every sound will hearken, song of bird or reedy 
+piping ; 
+
+Though the dreadful voice of Pan, a ready answer 
+shall we give: 
+
+Comes a murmur, we re-murmur, — thunder, we our 
+thunders waken 
+
+In reverberating crashes, doubly, trebly, tenfold flung! 
+
+
+A THIRD PART. 
+
+
+Sisters, we, of nimbler fancy, hasten with the brooklets 
+onward ; 
+
+For allure us yonder distant, richly-mantled mountain 
+ranges. 
+
+Ever downwards, ever deeper, in meandering curves 
+we water 
+
+First the meadow, then the pasture; then the garden 
+round the house, 
+
+Marked by slender peaks of cypress, shooting clearly 
+into ether 
+
+O’er the landscape and the waters and the fading line 
+of shore. 
+
+Io * 
+
+
+226 FAUST. 
+
+
+A FOURTH PART. 
+
+Fare, ye others, at your pleasure; we will girdle and 
+o’errustle 
+
+The completely-planted hillside, where the sprouting 
+vines are green. 
+
+There at every hour the passion of the vintager is wit- 
+nessed, : 
+
+And the loving diligence, that hath so doubtful a result. 
+
+Now with hoe and now with shovel, then with hilling, 
+pruning, tying, 
+
+Unto all the Gods he prayeth, chiefly to the Sun’s 
+bright god. 
+
+Small concern hath pampered Bacchus for his faithful 
+servant’s welfare, 
+
+But in arbors rests, and caverns, toying with the 
+youngest Faun. 
+
+For his semi-drunken visions whatsoever he hath needed, 
+
+It is furnished him in wine-skins, and in amphore and 
+vessels, 
+
+Right and left in cool recesses, cellared for eternal time. 
+
+But if now the Gods together, Helios before the others, 
+
+Have with breeze and dew and warmth and glow the 
+berries filled with juice, 
+
+Where the vintager in silence labored, all is life and 
+
+
+motion, 
+
+Every trellis stirs and rustles, and they go from stake to 
+Stake. 
+
+Baskets creak and buckets rattle, groaning tubs are 
+borne on back, 
+
+All towards the vat enormous and the treaders’ lusty 
+dance; 
+
+So is then the sacred bounty of the pure-born, juicy 
+berries 
+
+
+Rudely trodden; foaming, spirting, they are mixed and 
+grimly crushed. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT JI. 227 
+
+
+Now the ear is pierced with cymbals and the clash of 
+
+brazen bosses, 
+
+For, behold, is Dionysos from his mysteries revealed ! 
+
+Forth he comes with goat-foot Satyrs, whirling goat-foot 
+
+Satyresses, 
+
+While amid the rout Silenus’ big-eared beast unruly 
+
+brays. 
+
+Naught is spared! The cloven hoofs tread down all 
+
+decent custom ; 
+
+All the senses whirl bewildered, fearfully the ear is 
+
+stunned. 
+
+Drunkards fumble for the goblets, over-full are heads 
+
+and paunches ; 
+
+Here and there hath one misgivings, yet increases thus 
+
+the tumult; 
+
+For, the fresher must to garner, empty they the ancient 
+
+skin ! 
+
+[ 7ke curtain falls*% PHORKYAS, in the proscenium, rises to 
+@ giant height, steps down from the cothurni, removes her 
+mask and veil, and reveals herself as MEPHISTOPHELES, i 
+order, so far as tt may be necessary, to comment upon Lie 
+piece by way of Epilogue. 
+
+
+228 FAUST. 
+
+
+ACT IV. 
+
+
+a 
+HIGH MOUNTAINS. 
+
+
+Strong, serrated rocky peaks. A cloud approaches, pauses, and 
+settles down upon a projecting ledge. It then divides. 
+
+
+FAUST (séeps forth). 
+OWN-GAZING on the deepest solitudes below, 
+
+I tread deliberately this summit’s lonely edge, 
+Relinquishing my cloudy car, which hither bore 
+Me softly through the shining day o’er land and sea. 
+Unscattered, slowly moved, it separates from me. 
+Off eastward strives the mass with rounded, rolling 
+
+march : 
+And strives the eye, amazed, admiring, after it. 
+In motion it divides, in wave-like, changeful guise ; 
+Yet seems to shape a figure.'27 — Yes! mine eyes not 
+err ! — 
+
+On sun-illumined pillows beauteously reclined, 
+Colossal, truly, but a godlike woman-form, 
+Isee! The like of Juno, Leda, Helena, 
+Majestically lovely, floats before my sight ! 
+Ah, now ’t is broken! Towering broad and formlessly, 
+It rests along the east like distant icy hills, 
+And shapes the grand significance of fleeting days. 
+Yet still there clings a light and delicate band of mist 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV. 229 
+
+
+Around my breast and brow, caressing, cheering me. 
+
+Now light, delayingly, it soars and higher soars, 
+
+And folds together. — Cheats me an ecstatic form, 
+
+As early-youthful, long-foregone and highest bliss ? 
+
+The first glad treasures of my deepest heart break forth; 
+
+Aurora’s love, so light of pinion, is its type, 
+
+The swiftly-felt, the first, scarce-comprehended glance, 
+
+Outshining every treasure, when retained and held. 
+
+Like Spiritual Beauty mounts the gracious Form, 
+
+Dissolving not, but lifts itself through ether far, 
+
+And from my inner being bears the best away. 
+
+(A Seven-league Boot trips forward :*3° another immediately 
+follows. MEPHISTOPHELES steps out of them. The Boots 
+stride onward in haste.) 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+I call that genuine forward-striding! 
+
+But what thou mean’st, I ’d have thee own, 
+That in such horrors art abiding, 
+
+Amid these yawning jags of stone? 
+
+It was not here I learned to know them well ; 
+Such was, indeed, the bottom-ground of Hell. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+In foolish legends thou art never lacking ; 
+Again thy store thou set’st about unpacking. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (seriously). 
+
+
+When God the Lord — wherefore, I also know, — 
+Banned us from air to darkness deep and central, 
+Where round and round, in fierce, intensest glow, 
+Eternal fires were whirled in Earth’s hot entrail, 
+We found ourselves too much illuminated, 
+
+Yet crowded and uneasily situated. 
+
+The Devils all set up a coughing, sneezing, 
+
+
+230 FAUST. 
+
+
+At every vent without cessation wheezing: 
+With sulphur-stench and acids Hell dilated, 
+And such enormous gas was thence created, 
+That very soon Earth’s level, far extended, 
+Thick as it was, was heaved, and split, and rended! 
+The thing is plain, no theories o’ercome it: 
+What formerly was bottom, now is summit. 
+Hereon they base the law there ’s no disputing, 
+To give the undermost the topmost footing : 
+For we escaped from fiery dungeons there 
+
+To overplus of lordship of the air ; — 
+
+A mystery manifest and well concealed,’ 
+
+And to the people only late revealed. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+To me are mountain-masses grandly dumb : 
+
+I ask not, Whence? and ask not, Why? they come. 
+When Nature in herself her being founded, 
+Complete and perfect then the globe she rounded, 
+Glad of the summits and the gorges deep, 
+
+Set rock to rock, and mountain steep to steep, 
+
+The hills with easy outlines downward moulded, 
+Till gently from their feet the vales unfolded ! 
+
+They green and grow; with joy therein she ranges, 
+Requiring no insane, convulsive changes. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Yes, so you talk! You think it clear as sun; 
+
+But he knows otherwise, who saw it done. 
+
+For I was there, while still below was surging 
+
+The red abyss, and streamed the flaming tide, — 
+When Moloch’s hammer, welding rocks and forging, 
+Scattered the mountain-ruins far and wide. 
+
+O’er all the land the foreign blocks you spy there ; '* 
+Who solves the force that hurled them to their place ? 
+
+
+ACT LV. 231 
+
+
+The lore of learned men is all awry there ; 
+
+There lies the rock, and we must let it lie there; 
+We ’ve thought already — to our own disgrace. 
+Only the common, faithful people know, 
+
+And nothing shakes them in their firm believing: 
+Their wisdom ripened long ago, — 
+
+A marvel ’t is, of Satan’s own achieving. 
+
+On crutch of faith my traveller climbs the ridges, 
+Past Devil’s Rocks and over Devil’s Bridges. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Well, — ’t is remarkable and new 
+To note how Devils Nature view. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+What ’s all to me? Her shape let Nature wear! 
+
+The point of honor is, the Devil was there ! 
+
+We are the folk to compass grand designs : 
+
+Tumult, and Force, and Nonsense! See the signs !— 
+Yet now, with sober reason to address thee, 
+
+Did nothing on our outside shell impress ther ? 
+
+From this exceeding height thou saw’st unfurled 
+
+The glory of the Kingdoms of the World. 
+
+Yet, as thou art, unsatisfied, 
+
+Didst feel no lust of power and pride ? 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+I did! A mighty plan a fancy won: 
+Canst guess it? 
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+That is quickly done. 
+I'd take some town, — a capital, perchance, — 
+Its core, the people’s need of sustenance ; 
+With crooked alleys, pointed gables, 
+Beets, cabbage, onions, on the market-tables ; 
+
+
+232 FA OST. 
+
+
+With meat-stands, where the blue flies muster, 
+And round fat joints like gourmands cluster : 
+There shalt thou find, undoubtedly, 
+
+Stench, always, and activity. 
+
+Then ample squares, and streets whose measure 
+Assumes an air of lordly leisure ; 
+
+And last, without a gate to bar, 
+
+The boundless suburbs stretching far. 
+
+’T were joy to see the coaches go, 
+
+The noisy crowding to and fro, 
+
+The endless running, hither, thither, 
+
+Of scattered ants that stream together : 
+
+And whether walking, driving, riding, 
+
+Ever their central point abiding, 
+
+Honored by thousands, should be I. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Therewith I would not be contented ! 
+One likes to see the people multiply, 
+And in their wise with comfort fed, — 
+Developed even, taught, well-bred, 
+Yet one has only, when all ’s said, 
+The sum of rebels thus augmented." 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Then I should build, with conscious power and grace, 
+A pleasure-castle in a pleasant place ; 
+
+Where hill and forest, level, meadow, field, 
+
+Grandly transformed, should park and garden yield. 
+Before green walls of foliage velvet meadows, 
+
+With ordered paths and artful-falling shadows ; 
+Plunge of cascades o’er rocks with skill combined, 
+And fountain-jets of every form and kind, 
+
+There grandly shooting upwards from the middle, 
+While round the sides a thousand spirt and piddle. 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV. 233 
+
+
+Then for the fairest women, fresh and rosy, 
+
+I ’d build a lodge, convenient and cosey ; 
+
+And so the bright and boundless time 1 should 
+Pass in the loveliest social solitude. 
+
+Women, 1 say; and, once for all, believe 
+That in the plural I the sex conceive ! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Sardanapalus! Modern, — poor! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Then might one guess whereunto thou hast striven ? 
+Boldly-sublime it was, I ’m sure. 
+Since nearer to the moon thy flight was driven, 
+Would now thy mania that realm secure ? 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Not so! This sphere of earthly soil 
+Still gives us room for lofty doing. 
+Astounding plans e’en now are brewing : 
+I feel new strength for bolder toil. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES, 
+
+
+So, thou wilt Glory earn? ’T is plain to see 
+That heroines have been thy company. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Power and Estate to win, inspires my thought ! 
+The Deed is everything, the Glory naught. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Yet Poets shall proclaim the matter, 
+Thy fame to future ages flatter, 
+By folly further folly scatter ! 
+
+
+234 FAUST. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+All that is far beyond thy reach. 
+
+How canst thou know what men beseech ? 
+Thy cross-grained self, in malice banned, 
+How can it know what men demand? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+According to thy will so let it be! 
+Confide the compass of thy whims to me! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Mine eye was drawn to view the open Ocean : "3s 
+It swelled aloft, self-heaved and over-vaulting, 
+And then withdrew, and shook its waves in motion, 
+Again the breadth of level strand assaulting. 
+Then I was vexed, since arrogance can spite 
+The spirit free, which values every right, 
+
+And through excited passion of the blood 
+Discomfort it, as did the haughty flood. 
+
+I thought it chance, my vision did I strain; 
+
+The billow paused, then thundered back again, 
+Retiring from the goal so proudly won: 
+
+The hour returns, the sport ’s once more begun. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (ad sfectatores). 
+
+
+*T is nothing new whatever that one hears ; 
+I ’ve known it many a hundred thousand years. 
+
+
+FAUST 
+(continuing impassionedly). 
+The Sea sweeps on, in thousand quarters flowing, 
+Itself unfruitful, barrenness bestowing ; 
+It breaks and swells, and rolls, and overwhelms 
+The desert stretch of desolated realms. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+AcT IV. 235 
+
+
+There endless waves hold sway, in strength erected 
+And then withdrawn, — and nothing is effected. 
+If aught could drive me to despair, ’t were, truly 
+The aimless force of elements upruly. 
+Then dared my mind its dreams to over-soar: 
+Here would I fight, — subdue this fierce uproar ! 
+And possible ’t is !— Howe’er the tides may fill, 
+They gently fawn around the steadfast hill ; 
+A moderate height resists and drives asunder, 
+A moderate depth allures and leads them on. 
+So, swiftly, plans within my mind were drawn: 
+Let that high joy be mine forevermore, 
+To shut the lordly Ocean from the shore, 
+The watery waste to limit and to bar, 
+And push it back upon itself afar! 
+From step to step I settled how to fight it: 
+Such is my wish: dare thou to expedite it! 
+\Drums and martial music in the rear of the spectators, fron 
+the distance, on the right hand.) 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+How easy, that ! — Hear’st thou the drums afar? 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Who ’s wise likes not to hear of coming war. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+In War or Peace, ’t is wise to use the chance, 
+And draw some profit from each circumstance. 
+One watches, marks the moment, and is bold: 
+Here ’s opportunity ! — now, Faust, take hold ! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Spare me the squandering of thy riddle-pelf! 
+What means it, once for all? Explain thyself! 
+
+
+236 FA OST. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Upon my way, to me it was discovered 
+
+That mighty troubles o’er the Emperor hovered : 
+Thou knowest him. The while we twain, beside him, 
+With wealth illusive bounteously supplied him, 
+
+Then all the world was to be had for pay ; 
+
+For as a youth he held imperial sway, 
+
+And he was pleased to try it, whether 
+
+Both interests would not smoothly pair, 
+
+Since ’t were desirable and fair 
+
+To govern and enjoy, together. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+A mighty error! He who would command 
+Must in commanding find his highest blessing: 
+Then, let his breast with force of will expand, 
+But what he wills, be past another’s guessing ! 
+What to his faithful he hath whispered, that 
+
+Is turned to act, and men amaze thereat: 
+Thus will he ever be the highest-placed 
+
+And worthiest !— Enjoyment makes debased. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Such is he not! He dd enjoy, even he! 
+Meanwhile the realm was torn by anarchy, 
+
+Where great and small were warring with each other, 
+And brother drove and slaughtered brother, 
+Castle to castle, town ’gainst town arrayed, 
+
+The nobles and the guilds of trade, 
+
+The Bishop, with his chapter and congregation, -— 
+All meeting eyes but looked retaliation. 
+
+In churches death and murder; past the gates, 
+The merchants travelled under evil fates; 
+
+And all grew bolder, since no rule was drawn 
+
+For life, but: Self-defence !— So things went on. 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV. 237 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+They went, they limped, they fell, arose again, 
+Then tumbled headlong, and in heaps remain. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Such a condition no man dared abuse. 
+
+Each would be something, each set forth his dues; 
+The smallest even as full-measured passed : 
+
+Yet for the best it grew too bad at last. 
+
+The Capyble, they then arose with energy, 
+
+And sid: “ Who gives us Peace, shall ruler be. 
+The Emperor can and will not !— Be elected 
+An Emperor new, anew the realm directed, 
+Each one secure and sheltered stand, 
+
+And in a fresh-constructed land 
+
+Justice and Peace be mated and perfected !” 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Priest-like, that sounds. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Priests were they, to be sure ; 
+They meant their well-fed bellies to secure ; 
+They. more than all, therein were implicated." 
+The riot rose, the riot was consecrated, 
+And now our Emperor, whom we gave delight, 
+Comes hitherward, perchance for one last fight. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+I pity him; he was so frank, forgiving. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Come, we Il look on! There’s hope while one is living! 
+Let us release him from this narrow valley ! 
+He’s saved a thousand times, if once he rally: 
+
+
+238 FAUST. 
+
+
+Who knows how yet the dice may fall ? 
+If he has fortune, vassals come withal. 
+
+
+[ They cross over the middle range of mountains, and view tht 
+arrangement of the army in the valley. Drums and mils- 
+tary music resound from below.] 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+A good position is, I see, secured them ; 
+We ’ll join, then victory will be assured them. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+What further, I should like to know ? 
+Cheat! Blind delusion! Hollow show! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+No, — stratagems, for battle-winning ! 
+Be steadfast for the grand beginning, 
+And think upon thy lofty aim ! 
+If we secure the realm its rightful claimant, 
+Then shalt thou boldly kneel, and claim 
+The boundless strand in feoff, as payment. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+In many arts didst thou excel : 
+Come, win a battle now, as well! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+No, fhou shalt win it! Here, in brief, 
+Shalt thou be General-in-Chief. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+A high distinction thou wouldst lend, — 
+There to command, where naught 1 comprehead: 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV. 239 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Leave to the Staff the work and blame, 
+Then the Field-Marshal ’s sure of fame! 
+Of War-Uncouncils I have had enough, 
+And my War-Council fashion of the stuff 
+Of primal mountains’ primal human might: 
+He’s blest, for whom its elements unite! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+What do I see, with arms, in yonder place? 
+Hast thou aroused the mountain-race ? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES,. 
+No! But I ’ve brought, like Peter Squence,'” 
+From all the raff the quintessence. 
+The Three Mighty Men appear.1® 
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+My fellows draw already near! 
+
+
+Thou seest, of very different ages, 
+
+Of different garb and armor they appear: 
+
+They will not serve thee ill when battle rages. 
+(Ad spectatores.) 
+
+
+Now every child delights to see 
+
+The harness and the helm of knightly action ° 
+And allegoric, as the blackguards be, 
+
+They ’ll only all the more give satisfaction. 
+
+
+BULLY 
+( young, lightly armed, clad in motley). 
+When one shall meet me, face to face, 
+My fisticuffs shall on his chops be showered; 
+And midway in his headlong race, 
+Fast by his flying hair I ’ll catch the coward. 
+
+
+240 FAUST. 
+
+
+HAVEQUICK 
+(manly, well-armed, richly clad). 
+Such empty brawls are only folly ! 
+They spoil whate’er occasion brings. 
+In ¢aking, be unwearied wholly, 
+And after, look to other things! 
+
+
+HOLDFAST 
+
+(well in years, strongly-armed, without raiment). 
+Yet little gain thereafter lingers! 
+Soon slips great wealth between your fingers, 
+Borne by the tides of Life as down they run. 
+*T is well to take, indeed, but better still to hold: 
+Be by the gray old churl controlled, 
+And thou shalt plundered be by none. 
+
+
+( They descend the mountain together.) 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV. 241 
+
+
+IT. 
+
+
+ON THE HEADLAND. 
+
+
+Drums and military music from below. The EMPEROR'S tent 
+ts pitched. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. GENERAL-IN-CHIEF. LIFE-GUARDSMEN. 
+
+
+GENERAL-IN-CHIEF. 
+
+
+| fe still appears the prudentest of courses 
+That here, in this appropriate vale, 
+
+We have withdrawn and strongly massed our forces: 
+I firmly trust we shall not fail. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+
+What comes of it will soon be brought to light; 
+Yet I dislike this yielding, semi-flight. 
+
+
+GENERAL-IN-CHIEF. 
+
+
+Look down, my Prince, where our right flank is planted ! 
+The field which War desires hath here been granted: 
+Not steep the hills, yet access not preparing, 
+
+To us advantage, to the foe insnaring ; 
+
+Their cavalry will hardly dare surround 
+
+Our strength half hid, on undulating ground. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+My commendation, only, need I speak ; 
+Now arm and courage have the test they seek. 
+VOL. I. It 
+
+
+
+
+
+.242 FAUST. 
+
+
+GENERAL-IN-CHIEF. 
+
+
+Here, on the middle meadow’s level spaces 
+
+Thou seest the phalanx, eager in their places. 
+
+In air the lances gleam and sparkle, kissed 
+
+By sunshine, through the filmy morning mist. 
+
+How darkling sways the grand and powerful square! 
+The thousands burn for great achievements there. 
+Therein canst thou perceive the strength of masses ; 
+And thine, be sure, the foemen’s strength surpasses. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+
+Now first do I enjoy the stirring sight : 
+An army, thus, appears of double might. 
+
+
+GENERAL-IN-CHIEF. 
+
+
+But of our left I ’ve no report to make. 
+
+Brave heroes garrison the rocky brake; 
+
+The stony cliffs, by gleams of weapons specked, 
+The entrance to the close defile protect. 
+
+Here, as I guess, the foemen’s force will shatter, 
+Forced unawares upon the bloody matter. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+
+And there they march, false kin, one like the other! 
+Even as they styled me Uncle, Cousin, Brother, 
+Assuming more, and ever more defying, 
+
+The sceptre’s power, the throne’s respect, denying; 
+Then, in their feuds, the realm they devastated, 
+And now as Rebels march, against me mated ! 
+Awhile with halting minds the masses go, 
+
+Then ride the stream, wherever it may flow. 
+
+
+GENERAL-IN-CHIEF. 
+
+
+A faithful man, sent out some news to win, 
+Comes down the rocks: may he have lucky been ! 
+
+
+ACT IV. 243 
+
+
+FIRST SPY. 
+
+
+Luckily have we succeeded ; 
+
+Helped by bold and cunning art, 
+
+Here and there have pressed, and heeded, 
+But ’t is ill news we impart. 
+
+Many, purest homage pledging, 
+
+Like the faithful, fealty swore, — 
+
+For inertness now alleging 
+
+People’s danger, strife in store. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+
+They learn from selfishness self-preservation, 
+
+Not duty, honor, grateful inclination. 
+
+You do not think that, when your reckoning ’s shown, 
+The neighbor’s burning house shall fire your own! 
+
+
+GENERAL-IN-CHIEF. 
+
+
+The Second comes, descending slowly hither ; 
+A weary man, whose strength appears to wither. 
+
+
+SECOND SPY. 
+
+
+First with comfort we detected 
+
+What their plan confused was worth ; 
+Then, at once and unexpected, 
+
+Came another Emperor forth. 
+
+As he bids, in ordered manner 
+March the gathering hosts away ; 
+
+His unfolded lying banner 
+
+All have followed. — Sheep are they ! 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+
+Now, by a Rival Emperor shall I gain: 
+That / am Emperor, thus to me is plain. 
+
+
+244 FAUST. 
+
+
+But as a soldier I the mail put on; 
+
+Now for a higher aim the sword be drawn! 
+
+At all my shows, however grand to see, 
+
+Did nothing lack: but Danger lacked, fo me. 
+Though you but tilting at the ring suggested, 
+My heart beat high to be in tourney tested ; 
+And had you not from war my mind dissuaded, 
+For glorious deeds my name were now paraded. 
+But independence then did I acquire, 
+
+When I stood mirrored in the realm of fire: 
+
+In the dread element I dared to stand; — 
+
+’T was but a show, and yet the show was grand. 
+Of fame and victory I have dreamed alone ; 
+
+But for the base neglect [ now atone ! 
+
+
+(Zhe HERALDS are despatched to challenge the Rival Emperor 
+fo single combat.) 
+
+
+FAUust enters, in armor, with half-closed visor. The THREE 
+MIGHTY MEN, armed and clothed, as already described. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+We come, and hope our coming is not chidden ; 
+Prudence may help, though by the need unbidden. 
+The mountain race, thou know’st, think and explore, — 
+Of Nature and the rocks they read the lore. 
+
+The Spirits, forced from the level land to sever, 
+Are of the rocky hills more fain than ever. 
+
+Silent, they work through labyrinthine passes, 
+
+In rich, metallic fumes of noble gases, 
+
+On solving, testing, blending, most intent: 
+
+Their only passion, something to invent. 
+
+With gentle touch of spiritual power 
+
+They build transparent fabrics, hour by hour; 
+For they, in crystals and their silence, furled,'© 
+Behold events that rule the Upper World. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV. 245. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+
+I understand it, and can well agree ; 
+But say, thou gallant man, what ’s that to me? 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+The Sabine old, the Norcian necromancer," 
+Thy true and worthy servant, sends thee answer: 
+What fearful fate it was, that overhung him! 
+The fagots crackled, fire already stung him ; 
+
+The billets dry were closely round him fixed, 
+With pitch and rolls of brimstone intermixed ; 
+Not Man, nor God, nor Devil, him could save, — 
+The Emperor plucked him from his fiery grave. 
+It was in Rome. Still is he bound unto thee ; 
+Upon thy path his anxious thoughts pursue thee ; 
+Himself since that dread hour forgotten, he 
+Questions the stars, the depths, alone for thee. 
+Us he commissioned, by the swiftest courses 
+Thee to assist. Great are the mountain’s forces; 
+There Nature works all-potently and free, 
+Though stupid priests therein but magic see. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+
+On days of joy, when we the guests are greeting, 
+Who for their gay delight are gayly meeting, 
+Each gives us pleasure, as they push and pull, 
+And crowd, man after man, the chambers full; 
+Yet chiefly welcome is the brave man, thus, 
+
+‘ ‘When as a bold ally he brings to us 
+
+Now, in the fateful morning hour, his talents, 
+While Destiny uplifts her trembling balance. 
+Yet, while the fates of this high hour unfold, 
+Thy strong hand from the willing sword withhold, — 
+Honor the moment, when the hosts are striding, 
+For or against me, to the field deciding! 
+
+
+
+
+
+246 FAUST. 
+
+
+Self is the Man!'# Who crown and throne would claim 
+Must personally be worthy of the same. 
+
+And may the Phantom, which against us stands, 
+
+The self-styled Emperor, Lord of all our lands, 
+
+The army’s Duke, our Princes’ feudal head, 
+
+With mine own hand be hurled among the dead ! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Howe’er the need that thy great work be finished, 
+Risked were thy head, the chances were diminished, 
+Is not the helm adorned with plume and crest ? 
+The head it shields, that steels our courage best. 
+Without a head, what should the members bridle ? 
+Let it but sleep, they sink supine and idle. 
+If it be injured, all the hurt confess in ’t, 
+And all revive, when it is convalescent. 
+Then soon the arm its right shall reassert, 
+And lift the shield to save the skull from hurt: 
+The sword perceives at once its honored trust, 
+Parries with vigor, and repeats the thrust: 
+The gallant foot its share of luck will gain, 
+And plants itself upon the necks of slain. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+Such is my wrath; I ’d meet him thus, undaunted, 
+And see his proud head as my footstool planted ! 
+
+
+HERALDS (returning). 
+Little honor was accorded ; 
+We have met with scorn undoubted : 
+Our defiance, nobly worded, 
+As an empty farce they flouted : 
+“Lo, your Lord is but a vision, — 
+Echo of a vanished prime: 
+When we name him, says Tradition : 
+‘He was — once upon a time /'” 
+
+
+ACT IV. 247 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+It ’s happened as the best would fain have planned, 
+Who, firm and faithful, still beside thee stand. 
+There comes the foe, thy army waits and wishes ; 
+Order attack! the moment is auspicious. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+Yet I decline to exercise command. 
+( Zo the GENERAL-IN-CHIEF.) 
+Thy duty, Prince, be trusted to thy hand ! 
+
+
+GENERAL-IN-CHIEF. 
+
+
+Then let the right wing now advance apace ! 
+
+The enemy’s left, who just begin ascending, 
+
+Shall, ere the movement close, give up their place, 
+Before the youthful force our field defending. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Permit me, then, that this gay hero may 
+
+Be stationed in thy ranks, without delay, — 
+That with thy men most fully he consort, 
+And thus incorporate, ply his vigorous sport! 
+
+
+(He points to the MIGHTY MAN on the right.) 
+
+
+BULLY (coming forward).** 
+Who shows his face to me, before he turn 
+Shall find his cheekbones and his chops are shattered : 
+Who shows his back, one sudden blow shall earn, 
+Then head and pig-tail dangling hang, and battered! 
+And if thy men, like me, will lunge 
+With mace and sword, beside each other, 
+Man over man the foe shall plunge 
+And in their own deep blood shall smother ! 
+[Exit 
+
+
+
+
+
+248° FAUST. 
+
+
+GENERAL-IN-CHIEF. 
+Let then our centre phalanx follow slow, — 
+Engage with caution, yet with might, the foe! 
+There to the right, already overtaken, 
+Our furious force their plan has rudely shaken! 
+
+
+FAUST ( pointing to the middle one). 
+Let also this one now obey thy word ! 
+
+
+HAVEQUICK (comes forward). 
+Unto the host’s heroic duty . 
+Shall now be joined the thirst for booty ; 
+And be the goal, where all are sent, 
+The Rival Emperor’s sumptuous tent ! 
+He shall not long upon his seat be lorded: 
+To lead the phalanx be to me accorded | 
+
+
+SPEEDBOOTY 
+
+(sulleress, fawning upon him). 
+Though never tied to him by priest, 
+He is my sweetheart dear, at least. 
+Our autumn ’t is, of ripest gold ! 
+Woman is fierce when she takes hold, 
+And when she robs, is merciless : 
+All is allowed, so forth to victory press ! 
+
+[ Exeunt both, 
+GENERAL-IN-CHIEF. 
+
+Upon our left, as was to be foreseen, 
+Their right is strongly hurled. Yon rocks -between, 
+Ours will resist their furious beginning, 
+And hinder them the narrow pass from winning. 
+
+
+FAUST 
+(beckons to the MIGHTY MAN on the left). 
+I beg you, Sire, let this one also aid ; 
+°T is well when even the strong are stronger made. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV. 249 
+
+
+HOLDFAST (coming forwards). 
+
+
+Now let the left wing have no fear! 
+
+‘The ground is surely held, where I appear : 
+I am the Ancient you were told of : 
+
+No lightning splits what I keep hold of! 
+
+
+[ Exit 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES 
+(descending from above). 
+
+
+And now behold, how, more remote, 
+From every jagged rocky throat 
+
+Comes forth an arméd host, increasing, 
+Down every narrow pathway squeezing, 
+With helm and harness, sword and spear, 
+A living rampart in our rear, 
+
+And wait the sign to charge the foemen ! 
+
+
+(Aside, to the knowing ones.) 
+
+
+You must not ask whence comes the omen. 
+
+I have not been a careless scout, 
+
+But cleared the halls of armor round about. 
+They stood a-foot, they sat on horses, 
+
+Like Lords of Earth and real forces: 
+
+Once Emperors, Kings, and Knights were they, 
+Now empty shells, — the snails have crawled away. 
+Full many ghosts, arrayed so, have for us 
+Revamped the Middle Ages thus. 
+
+Whatever Devils now the shells select, 
+
+This once ’t will still create effect. 
+
+
+( Aloud.) 
+
+
+Hark! in advance they stir their anger, 
+
+Each jostling each with brassy clangor ! 
+
+The banner-rags of standards flutter flowing, 
+
+That restless waited for the breeze’s blowing. 
+11* 
+
+
+250 FAUST. 
+
+
+Here standeth ready, now, an ancient race; 
+In the new conflict it would fain have place. 
+| Zremendous peal of trumpets from above: a perceptible wavere 
+ing i the hostile army.) 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+The near horizon dims and darkles ; 
+
+Yet here and there with meaning sparkles 
+A ruddy and presaging glow ; 
+
+The blades are red where strife is sorest, 
+The atmosphere, the rocks, the forest, 
+The very heavens the combat show. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+The right flank holds its ground with vigor ; 
+There, towering over all, defiant, 
+Jack Bully works, the nimble giant, 
+And drives them with his wonted rigor. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+
+I first beheld one arm uplifted, 
+But now a dozen tossed and shifted: 
+Unnatural such things appear. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Hast thou not heard of vapors Banded, 
+O’er the Sicilian coasts expanded ? 
+There, hovering in daylight clear, 
+
+When mid-air gleams in rarer phases, 
+And mirrored in especial hazes, 
+
+A vision wonderful awakes : 
+
+There back and forth are cities bending, 
+With gardens rising and descending, 
+
+As form on form the ether breaks. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV. 251 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+
+Yet how suspicious! I behold 
+
+The tall spears tipped with gleams of gold: 
+Upon our phalanx’ shining lances 
+
+A nimble host of flamelets dances : 
+
+Too spectral it appears to me. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Pardon me, Lord, those are the traces 
+Of spirits of the vanished races, — 
+The fires of Pollux and of Castor, 
+Whom seamen call on in disaster : 
+They here collect their final strength for thee. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+
+But say, to whom are we indebted, 
+That Nature hath our plans abetted, 
+With shows of rarest potency ? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+To whom, indeed, but that old Roman 
+
+Whose care for thee at last is proved? 
+
+By the strong menace of thy foemen 
+
+His deepest nature has been moved. 
+
+His gratitude would see thee now delivered, 
+Though his own being for thy sake be shivered. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+
+They cheered my march, with every pomp invested ; 
+I felt my power, I meant to see it tested ; 
+
+So, carelessly, I found it well, as ruler, 
+
+To send the white beard where the air was cooler. 
+
+I robbed the Clergy of a pleasant savor, 
+
+And, truly, have not thus acquired their favor. 
+
+
+254 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Shall I, at last, since many years are over, 
+The payment for that merry deed recover? 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Free-hearted help heaps interest : 
+Look up, and cease to watch the foemen! 
+Methinks that Ae will send an omen: 
+Attend ! the sign is now expressed.'45 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+
+An Eagle hovers in the heavenly vault : 
+A Griffin follows, menacing assault. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Give heed! It seems most favorable. 
+The Griffin is a beast of fable: 
+How dare he claim a rival regal, 
+And meet in fight a genuine Eagle? 
+
+
+EMPEKOR. 
+And now, in circles wide extended, 
+They wheel involved, — then, like a flash, 
+Upon each other swiftly dash, 
+That necks be cleft and bodies rended! 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Mark now the evil Griffin quail! 
+Rumpled and torn, the foe he feareth, 
+And with his drooping lion’s-tail, 
+Plunged in the tree-tops, disappeareth. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+
+Even as presaged, so may it be! 
+I take the sign, admiringly. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV. 253 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (towards the right). 
+
+
+From the force of blows repeated 
+Have our enemies retreated ; 
+
+And in fight uncertain, shifting, 
+Towards their right they now are drifting, 
+Thus confusing, by their courses, 
+All the left flank of their forces. 
+See! our phalanx, firmly driven, 
+Moves to right, and, like the levin, 
+Strikes them in the weak position. — 
+Now, like waves in wild collision, 
+Equal powers, with rage opposing, 
+In the double fight are closing. 
+Gloriously the weapons rattle ; 
+
+We, at last, have won the battle! 
+
+
+EMPEROR 
+(on the left, to FAUST). 
+
+
+Look! it yonder seems suspicious ; 
+For our post the luck ’s capricious. 
+Not a stone I see them throw there; 
+Mounted are the rocks below there, 
+And the upper ones deserted. 
+
+Now !—to one huge mass converted 
+Nearer moves the foe, unshaken, 
+And perchance the pass hath taken. 
+Such the unholy plan’s conclusion ! 
+All your arts are but delusion. 
+
+
+Pause. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+There come my ravens, croaking presage ; 
+What nature, then, may be their message? 
+I fear we stand in evil plight. 
+
+
+254° 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+
+What mean these fatal birds enchanted ? 
+Their inky sails are hither slanted, 
+Hot from the rocky field of fight. 
+
+
+
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (to the Ravens). 
+
+
+Sit at mine ears, your flight retarded ! 
+He is not lost whom you have guarded ; 
+Your counsel ’s logical and right. 
+
+
+FAUST (¢o ‘the EMPEROR). 
+
+
+Thou hast, of course, been told of pigeons, 
+Taught to return from distant regions 
+
+To nests upon their native coast. 
+
+Here, differently, the plan ’s succeeded ; 
+The pigeon-post for Peace is needed, 
+
+But War requires the raven-post. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+The birds announce us sore mischances. 
+See, yonder, how the foe advances 
+Against our heroes’ rocky wall, 
+
+The nearest heights even now attaining ! 
+Should they succeed the pass in gaining, 
+Our fortunes, then, were critical. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+Defeat and cheat at last are on me! : 
+Into your meshes you have drawn me: 
+I shudder, since they bind me fast. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Courage! Not yet the die is cast. 
+Patience and knack, for knot-untying ! 
+The close will be the fiercest stand. 
+
+
+ACT IV. 255 
+
+
+Sure messengers for me are flying: 
+Command that I may give command ! 
+
+
+GENERAL-IN-CHIEF 
+
+(who has meanwhile arrived). 
+To follow these hast thou consented ; 
+Thence all the time was I tormented: 
+No fortune comes of jugglery. 
+The battle ’s lost, I cannot mend it; 
+’T was they began, and they may end it: 
+My baton I return to thee. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+Retain it for the better season 
+Which Fortune still to us may send! 
+I dread the customers with reason, — 
+The ravens and their ugly friend. 
+
+(Zo MEPHISTOPHELES.) 
+As for the baton, thou must leave it ; 
+Thou ’rt not, methinks, the proper man. 
+Command the fight, canst thou retrieve it! 
+Let happen all that happen can! 
+
+[Zxit into the tent with the GENERAL-IN-CHIER 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+The blunt stick still be his protection ! 
+*T would naught avail in or direction ; 
+There was a sort of Cross thereon. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+What ’s to be done ? 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+The thing is done ! #* — 
+Now, my black cousins, speed upon your duties 
+
+
+
+
+
+256 FACST. 
+
+
+To the mountain-lake! The Undines, watery beauties, 
+Entreat, the appearance of their floods to spare ! 
+
+By female arts, beyond our sharpest seeing, 
+
+They can divide the Appearance from the Being, 
+
+And all will swear the Being ’s there! 
+
+
+Pause. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Our ravens must, with flattery beladen, 
+
+Have sweetly coaxed each winsome water-maiden ; 
+The trickling streams at once descend. 
+
+The bald and rocky shoulders of the mountains 
+Give birth to full and swiftly-flowing fountains ; 
+Their victory is at an end. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+To such reception they ’re not used: 
+The boldest climbers grow confused. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Now brook roars down to brook with mighty bubble ; 
+Then from the mouths of glens they issue double, 
+And fling themselves, in arches, o’er the pale; 
+
+‘Then suddenly spread along the rocky level, 
+
+And to and fro foam onward in their revel, 
+
+As down a stairway hurled into the vale. 
+
+What boots their gallant, hero-like resistance ? 
+
+The billow bursts, and bears them down the distance ; 
+Before such wild uproar even I must quail. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Nothing I see of all this moist illusion : 
+
+To human eyes, alone, it brings confusion, . 
+And in the wondrous chance I take delight. 
+They fly in headlong, hurried masses ; 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV. 254 
+
+
+That they are drowning, think the asses: 
+Though on the solid land, they see an ocean, 
+And run absurdly with a swimming motion. 
+It is a most bewildering plight. 
+
+
+(Zhe Ravens return.) 
+
+
+To the high Master will I praise you duly; 
+
+But would you test yourselves as masters fully, 
+Then hasten to that smithy eerie, 
+
+Where the dwarf-people, never weary, 
+
+Hammer the sparks from ore and stone. 
+Demand, while there you prate and flatter, 
+
+A fire to shine, and shoot, and scatter, 
+
+As in the highest sense ’t is known. 
+
+’T is true that distant lightning, quivering far-lights, 
+And falling, quick as wink, of highest star-lights, 
+May happen any summer night; 
+
+- But lightning, loose among the tangled bushes, 
+And stars that hiss and fizzle in the rushes, 
+
+Are shows that seldom meet the sight. 
+
+Take no great pains, you understand ; 
+
+But first entreat, and then command! 
+
+
+(Exeunt the Ravens. All takes place as prescribed.) 
+
+
+Upon the foe falls Night’s thick curtain, 
+And step and march become uncertain! 
+In every quarter wandering blazes, 
+
+And sudden glare, that blinds and dazes ! 
+All that seems fine; yet we should hear 
+Their wild, commingled cries of fear. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+The hollow armor from the vaulted chambers 
+In the free air its ancient strength remembers : 
+It rattles there, and clatters all around, — 
+
+A wonderful, a cheating sound. 
+
+
+258 FAUST. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Quite right! The forms there ’s no restraining: 
+
+Already knightly whacks are raining, 
+
+As in the splendid times of old. 
+
+The brassarts there, as well as cuisses, 
+
+Are Guelfs and Ghibellines ; and this is 
+
+Renewal of the feud they hold. 
+
+Firm in transmitted hate they anchor, 
+
+And show implacably their rancor : 
+
+Now far and wide the noise hath rolled. 
+
+At last, the Devils find a hearty 
+
+Advantage in the hate of Party, 
+
+Till dread and ruin end the tale: 
+
+Repulsive sounds of rage and panic, 
+
+With others, piercing and Satanic, 
+
+Resound along the frightened vale ! 
+
+| Warlika tumult in the Orchestra, finally passing into lively 
+
+martial measures.) 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV. 259 
+
+
+III. 
+THE RIVAL EMPEROR’S TENT. 
+
+
+THRONE: RICH SURROUNDINGS. 
+HAVEQUICK. SPEEDBOOTY. 
+
+
+SPEEDBOOTY. 
+S° we are here the first, I see! 
+
+
+HAVEQUICK. 
+No raven flies so swift as we. 
+
+
+SPEEDBOOTY. 
+
+
+O, how the treasure-piles extend ! 
+Where shall I once begin? where end? 
+
+
+HAVEQUICK. 
+
+
+But all the space is full! And now 
+I krow not what to take, I vow! 
+
+
+SPEEDBOOTY. 
+
+
+This carpet is the thing I need! 
+My couch is often hard indeed. 
+
+
+HAVEQUICK. 
+
+
+Here hangs a morning-star, so strong, 
+The like of which I ’ve wanted long. 
+
+
+SPEEDBOOTY. 
+
+
+This crimson mantle, bound with gold, 
+Is like the one my dreams foretold. 
+
+
+
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+HAVEQUICK (taking the weapon). 
+With this, a man is quickly sped ; 
+One strikes him dead, and goes ahead. 
+Thou art already laden so, 
+And nothing right thy sack can show. 
+This rubbish, rather, here forsake, 
+And one of yonder caskets take! 
+The army’s modest pay they hold, 
+Their bellies full of purest gold. 
+
+
+SPEEDBOOTY. 
+
+
+O what a murderous weight is there! 
+I cannot lift it, cannot bear. 
+
+
+HAVEQUICK. 
+
+
+Quick, bend and squat to take the pack! 
+I ’ll heave it on thy sturdy back. 
+
+
+SPEEDBOOTY. 
+
+
+Ome! Alack! the burden slips: 
+The weight has crushed my back and hips. 
+(Zhe chest falls and bursts open.) 
+
+
+HAVEQUICK. 
+
+
+There lies the red gold in a heap! 
+Quick, rake and take what thou canst keep! 
+
+
+SPEEDBOOTY (crouching down). 
+
+
+Quick, let the booty fill my lap! 
+’T will still be quite enough, mayhap. 
+
+
+HAVEQUICK. 
+So! there ’s enough! Now haste, and go! 
+(She rises.) 
+The apron has a hole, ah woe! 
+
+
+ACT IV. 261 
+
+
+Wherever thou dost walk or stand, 
+Thou sowest treasure on the land." 
+
+
+GUARDSMEN (of our EMPEROR). 
+
+
+What seek ye here with wanton eyes? 
+Ye rummage the Imperial prize ! 
+
+
+HAVEQUICK. 
+We hazarded our limbs for pay, 
+And now we take our share of prey. 
+In hostile tents ’t is always so, 
+And we are soldiers too, you know. 
+
+
+GUARDSMEN. 
+Among our troops he comes to grief 
+Who ’s both a soldier and a thief : 
+Who serves our Emperor fair and free, 
+Let him an honest soldier be! 
+
+
+HAVEQUICK. 
+O yes! such honesty we know: 
+’T is Contribution, — call it so! '# 
+In the same mould you all are made . 
+“ Give!” is the password of your trade. 
+(7o SPEEDBOOTY.) 
+With what thou hast, the coast we ’ll clear: 
+
+
+As guests we are not welcome here. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+FIRST GUARDSMAN. 
+
+
+Why didst thou not at once bestow 
+On the scamp’s face a smashing blow? 
+
+
+SECOND. 
+
+
+I know not, — had not strength to strike ; 
+They seemed to me so phantom-like. 
+
+
+: 262 FAUST. 
+
+
+THIRD. 
+
+
+Something there was disturbed my sight, — 
+A flash: I could not see aright. 
+
+
+FOURTH. 
+
+
+J, also, can declare it not: 
+
+The whole day long it was so hot, 
+
+So sultry, close, and terrible ; 
+
+One man stood firm, another fell ; 
+
+We groped and fought, with valor rash, 
+
+The foemen fell at every slash ; 
+
+Before one’s eyes there was a mist, 
+
+And something roared, and hummed, and hissed ; 
+So to the end, and here are we, 
+
+And how it happened, cannot see. 
+
+
+{ 7hke EMPEROR enters, accompanied by FouR PRINCES. The 
+GUARDSMEN retire.) 
+
+
+EMPEROR.'” 
+
+
+Now fare he, as he may! For us is won the battle, 
+
+And o’er the plain the foe have fled like frightened cattle. 
+
+The trait’rous treasure, here, the empty throne, we ’ve 
+found, 
+
+That, hung with tapestry, contracts the space around. 
+
+Enthroned in honor we, true guardsmen us protecting, 
+
+The people’s envoys are imperially expecting. 
+
+The messengers of joy arrive from every side, 
+
+And, loyal now to us, the realm is pacified. 
+
+Though in our fight, perchance, some jugglery was woven, 
+
+Yet, at the last, our own unaided strength we ’ve proven. 
+
+True, accidents sometimes for combatants are good ; 
+
+A stone may fall from heaven, on foes a shower of blood; 
+
+From rocky caves may ring tremendous strains of wonder, 
+
+That lift our hearts with faith, and drive the foe asunder. 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV. 263 
+The Conquered yielded, scourged by Scorn’s immortal 
+
+
+9 
+
+The Victor, as he boasts, exalts the favoring God ; 
+And all responsive shout, unordered, unentreated : 
+“ We praise Thee, God our Lord !” from million throats 
+
+repeated. 
+Yet as the highest praise, so rarely else expressed, 
+I turn my pious glance on mine own grateful breast. 
+A young and lively Prince may give his days to pleasure ; 
+Him teach the years, at last, the moment’s use to measure. 
+Therefore, without delay, I call ye, for support, 
+Beside me, worthy Four, in realm and house and court. 
+
+
+(Zo the First.) 
+
+
+Thine was, O Prince! the host’s arrangement, wise in- 
+spection, 
+
+Then, in the nick of time, heroic, bold direction : 
+
+Act now in peace, as Time thine offices may show! 
+
+Arch-Marshal shalt thou be: the sword I here bestow. 
+
+
+ARCH-MARSHAL. 
+
+
+Thy faithful host, till now employed for civil order, 
+
+Thee and thy throne secured, shall strengthen next thy 
+border : 
+
+Then let us be allowed, when festal throngs are poured 
+
+Through thine ancestral halls, to dress for thee the board. 
+
+Before thee brightly borne, and brightly held beside thee, 
+
+Thy Majesty’s support, the sword shall guard and guide 
+thee! 
+
+
+EMPEROR (fo the SECOND). 
+He who as gallant man can also gracious be, 
+Thou, — be Arch-Chamberlain ! — not light the place, 
+for thee. 
+Thou art the highest now of all the house-retainers 
+
+
+264 FAUST. 
+
+
+Whose strife makes service bad, — the threateners and 
+complainers : 
+
+Let thy example be an honored sign to these, 
+
+How they the Prince and Court, and all, should seek to 
+please ! 
+
+
+ARCH-CHAMBERLAIN. 
+To speed thy high design, thy grace is fair precursor : 
+The Better to assist, and injure not the Worser, — 
+Be frank, yet cunning not, and calm without deceit ! 
+If thou but read my heart, I’m honored as is meet. 
+But let my fancy now to festal service hasten ! 
+Thou goest to the board, I bear the golden basin, 
+And hold thy rings for thee, that on such blissful days 
+Thy hands may be refreshed, as 1 beneath thy gaze. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+
+Too serious am I still, to plan such celebration; 
+Yet be itso! We need a giad inauguration. 
+
+
+( Zo the THIRD.) 
+
+
+_I choose thee Arch-High-Steward! ‘Therefore hence- 
+forth be 
+
+Chase, poultry-yard, and manor subject unto thee! 
+
+Give me at all times choice of dishes I delight in, 
+
+As with the month they come, and cooked with appe 
+tite in! 
+
+
+ARCH-HIGH-STEWARD. 
+
+
+A rigid fast shall be the penalty I wish, 
+
+Until before thee stands a goodly-savored dish. 
+
+The kitchen-folk shall join, and gladly heed my reasons 
+To bring the distant near and expedite the seasons. 
+Yet rare and early things shall not delight thee long: 
+Thy taste desires, instead, the simple and the strong. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV. 265 
+
+
+EMPEROR (fo the FOURTH). 
+Since here, perforce, we plan but feasts, and each is sharer, 
+Be thou for me transformed, young hero, to Cup-bearer ! 
+Arch Cup-Bearer, take heed, that all those vaults of mine 
+Richly replenished be with noblest taps of wine ! 
+Be temperate thyself, howe’er temptation presses, 
+Nor let occasion’s lure mislead thee to excesses ! 
+
+
+ARCH CUP-BEARER. 
+
+
+My Prince, the young themselves, if trust in them be 
+shown, 
+
+Are, ere one looks around, already men full-grown. 
+
+I at the lordly feast shall also take my station, 
+
+And give thy sideboard’s pomp the noblest decoration 
+
+Of gorgeous vessels, golden, silver, grand to see; 
+
+Yet first the fairest cup will I select for thee, — 
+
+A clear Venetian glass, good cheer within it waiting, 
+
+Helping the taste of wine, yet ne’er intoxicating. 
+
+One oft confides too much on such a treasured store: 
+
+Thy moderation, though, High Lord, protects thee more. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+What, in this earnest hour, for you have I intended, 
+From valid mouth confidingly you ’ve comprehended. 
+The Emperor’s word is great, his gift is therefore sure, 
+But needs, for proper force, his written signature : 
+The high sign-manual fails. Here, for commission 
+
+needful, 
+I see the right man come, of the right moment heedful. 
+
+
+(Zhe ARCHBISHOP-ARCH-CHANCELLOR enters.) 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+If in the keystone of the arch the vault confide, 
+'T is then securely built, for endless time and tide. 
+VOL. II. 12 
+
+
+
+
+
+266 FAUST. 
+
+
+Thou seest Four Princes here! To them we ’ve just 
+expounded 
+How next our House and Court shall be more stably 
+founded. 
+Now, all the realm contains, within its bounds enclosed, 
+Shall be, with weight and power, upon Ye Five imposed ! 
+Your landed wealth shall be before all others splendid ; 
+Therefore at once have I your properties extended 
+From their inheritance, who raised ’gainst us the hand. 
+You I award, ye Faithful, many a lovely land, 
+Together with the right, as you may have occasion, 
+To spread them by exchange, or purchase, or invasion: 
+Then be it clearly fixed, that you unhindered use 
+Whate’er prerogatives have been the landlord’s dues. 
+When ye, as Judges, have the final sentence spoken, 
+By no appeal from your high Court shall it be broken: 
+Then levies, tax and rent, pass-money, tolls and fees 
+Are yours, —of mines and salt and coin the royalties. 
+That thus my gratitude may validly be stated, 
+You next to Majesty hereby I ’ve elevated. 
+
+
+ARCHBISHOP. 
+
+
+In deepest thanks to thee we humbly all unite: 
+Thou mak’st us strong and sure, and strengthenest thy 
+
+might. 
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+Yet higher dignities I give for your fulfilling. 
+Still for my realm I live, and still to live am willing; 
+Yet old ancestral lines compel the prudent mind 
+To look from present deeds to that which looms behind. 
+I, also, in my time, must meet the sure Redresser ; 
+Your duty be it, then, to choose me a successor. 
+Crowned, at the altar raise his consecrated form, 
+That so may end in peace what here began in storm! 
+
+
+ACT IV. 267 - 
+
+
+ARCH-CHANCELLOR. 
+With pride profound, yet humbly, as our guise evinces, 
+Behold, before thee bowed, the first of earthly princes ! 
+So long the faithful blood our living veins shall fill, 
+We are the body which obeys thy lightest will. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+Now, to conclude, let all that we have here asserted, 
+Be, for the future time, to document converted ! 
+’T is true that ye, as lords, have your possession free, 
+With this condition, though, that it unparcelled be; 
+And what ye have from us, howe’er ye swell the treas- 
+
+
+ure, 
+Shall to the eldest son descend in equal measure. 
+
+
+ARCH-CHANCELLOR. 
+On parchment I, at once, shall gladly tabulate, 
+To bless the realm and us, the statute of such weight: 
+The copy and the seals the Chancery shall procure us, 
+Thy sacred hand shall then validity assure us. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+Dismissal now I grant, that you, assembled, may 
+Deliberate upon the great, important day. 
+(Zhe Secular Princes retire.) 
+
+
+ARCHBISHOP 
+(remains and speaks pathetically). 
+The Chancellor withdrew, the Bishop stands before 
+thee: 
+A warning spirit bids that straightway he implore thee! 
+His heart paternal quakes with anxious fear for thee. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+In this glad hour what may thy dread misgiving be? 
+
+
+268 FAUST. 
+
+
+ARCHBISHOP. 
+
+
+Alas, in such an hour, how much my pain must greaten,. 
+
+To find thy hallowed head in covenant with Satan ! 
+
+True, to the throne, it seems, hast thou secured thy 
+right ; 
+
+But, woe! in God the Lord’s, the Holy Pontiff’s spite. 
+
+Swift shall he punish when he learns the truth — the 
+latter : 
+
+Thy sinful realm at once with holy ban he ’ll shatter ! 
+
+He still remembers how, amid thy highest state, 
+
+When newly crowned, thou didst the wizard liberate.'> 
+
+Thy diadem but made thy heart for Christians harden, 
+
+For on that head accurst fell its first beam of pardon. 
+
+Now beat thy breast, and from thy guilty stores, this 
+day, 
+
+Unto the Sanctuary a moderate mite repay ! 
+
+The spacious sweep of hills, where stood thy tent 
+erected, — 
+
+Where Evil Spirits then, united, thee protected, — 
+
+Where late the Liar-Prince thy hearing did secure, — 
+
+Devote thou, meekly taught, to pious use and pure, 
+
+With hill and forest dense, far as they stretch extended, 
+
+And slopes that greenly swell for pastures never ended, 
+
+Then crystal lakes of fish, unnumbered brooks that flow 
+
+In foamy windings down, and braid the vale below; 
+
+The broad vale then, itself, with mead, and lawn, and 
+hollow! 
+
+Thus penitence is shown, and pardon soon shall follow. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+For this, my heavy sin, my terror is profound : 
+By thinc own measure shalt thou draw the borders 
+round. | 
+ARCHBISHOP. 
+
+
+First be the spot profane, where sin was perpetrated, 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV. 269 
+
+
+To God’s high service soon and wholly dedicated ! 
+
+With speed the walls arise to meet the mind’s desire; 
+
+The rising morning sun already lights the choir; 
+
+The growing structure spreads, the transept stands ex- 
+alted ; 
+
+Joy of Believers, then, the nave is lifted, vaulted ; 
+
+And while they press with zeal within the portals grand, 
+
+The first clear call of bells is swept across the land, 
+
+Pealed from the lofty towers that heavenwards have 
+striven : 
+
+The penitent draws near, new life to him is given. 
+
+The consecration-day — O, may it soon be sent !— 
+
+Thy presence then shall be the highest ornament. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+So great a work shall be my pious proclamation 
+To praise the Lord our God, and work mine expiation. 
+Enough! I feel, e’en now, how high my thoughts as- 
+pire. 
+ARCHBISHOP. 
+As Chancellor, next, the formal treaty I require. 
+
+
+EMPEROR. 
+
+
+A formal document, — the Church needs full requital’. 
+Bring it to me, and I with joy will sign her title! 
+
+
+ARCHBISHOP 
+(has taken leave, but turns back again at the door), 
+
+
+At once unto the work devote, that it may stand, 
+Tithes, levies, tax, — the total income of the land, 
+Forever. Much it needs, to be supported fairly, 
+And careful maintenance will also cost us rarely : 
+And, that it soon be built, on such a lonesome wold, 
+Thou ‘It from thy booty spare to us some little gold. 
+
+
+270 FAUST. 
+
+
+Moreover, we shall want — here, most, we claim assist- 
+ance — 
+
+Lumber, and lime, and slate, and such like, from a dis- 
+tance. 
+
+The people these shall haul, thus from the pulpit taught; 
+
+The Church shall bless the man, whose team for her 
+
+
+has wrought. 
+[Zxst. 
+
+
+. EMPEROR. 
+The sin is very sore, wherewith my soul is weighted : 
+Much damage unto me the Sorcerers have created. 
+
+
+ARCHBISHOP 
+(returning once again, with profoundest genufiections). 
+Pardon, O Prince! to him, that vile, notorious man, 
+The Empire’s coast was given; but him shall smite the 
+ban, 
+Unless thy penitence the Church’s wrath relaxes 
+There, too, with tithes and gifts, and revenues and taxes. 
+
+
+EMPEROR (tU-humoredly). 
+The land doth not exist: far in the sea it lies. 
+
+
+ARCHBISHOP. 
+
+
+Who patient is, and right, his day shall yet arise. 
+Your word for us remains, and makes secure our trover! 
+| Zxit. 
+
+
+EMPEROR (solus). 
+I might as well, at last, make all the Empire over! 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT V. 271 
+
+
+ACT V.* 
+
+
+——¢—— 
+I. 
+
+
+OPEN COUNTRY. 
+
+
+WANDERER. 
+
+
+ES! ’t is they, the dusky lindens ; 
+There they stand in sturdy age: 
+
+And again shall I behold them, 
+After such a pilgrimage ? 
+’T is the ancient place, the drifted 
+Downs, the hut that sheltered me, 
+When the billow, storm-uplifted, 
+Hurled me shoreward from the sea! 
+Here with blessing would I greet them, 
+They, my hosts, the helpful pair, — 
+Old, indeed, if now I meet them, 
+Since they then had hoary hair. 
+Pious folk, from whom I parted! 
+Be my greeting here renewed, 
+If ye still, as open-hearted, 
+Taste the bliss of doing good! 
+
+
+BAUCIS'* (a little woman, very old). 
+
+
+Gently, stranger! lest thou cumber 
+Rest, whereof my spouse hath need ! 
+He but gains from longest slumber 
+Strength for briefest waking deed. 
+
+
+272 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+WANDERER. 
+
+
+Tell me, mother, art thou even 
+She, to whom my thanks I bear, — 
+I, the youth, whose life was given 
+By your kind, united care? 
+Art thou Baucis, who the coldly 
+Fading mouth refreshment gave ? 
+(The Husband appears.) 
+Thou, Philemon, who so boldly 
+Drew my treasure from the wave ? 
+From your fire, so quickly burning, 
+From your silver-sounding bell, 
+Changed my doom, to fortune turning, 
+When the dread adventure fell. 
+Forth upon the sand-hills stealing, 
+Let me view the boundless sea! 
+Let me pray, devoutly kneeling, 
+Till my burdened heart be free ! 
+(He walks forward upon the downs.) 
+
+
+PHILEMON (fo BAUCIS). 
+
+
+Haste, and let the meal be dighted 
+’Neath the garden’s blooming trees! 
+Let him go, and be affrighted ! 
+
+He ’ll believe not what he sees. 
+
+
+(Follows, and stands beside the WANDERERS 
+
+
+Where the savage waves maltreated 
+You, on shores of breaking foam, 
+See, a garden lies completed, 
+
+Like an Eden-dream of home! 
+
+Old was I, no longer eager, 
+Helpful, as the younger are: 
+
+And when I had lost my vigor, 
+
+Also was the wave afar. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT V. 273 
+
+
+Wise lords set their serfs in motion, 
+Dikes upraised and ditches led, 
+Minishing the rights of Ocean, 
+Lords to be in Ocean’s stead. 
+
+See the green of many a meadow, 
+Field and garden, wood and town! 
+Come, our table waits in shadow! 
+For the sun is going down. 
+
+Sails afar are gliding yonder ; 
+Nightly to the port they fare: 
+
+To their nest the sea-birds wander, 
+For a harbor waits them there. 
+Distant now, thou hardly seést 
+Where the Sea’s blue arc is spanned,'3 — 
+Right and left, the broadest, freest 
+Stretch of thickly-peopled land. 
+
+
+12* R 
+
+
+274 FAUST. 
+
+
+IT. 
+IN THE LITTLE GARDEN. 
+
+
+THE THREE AT THE TABLE. 
+
+
+BAUCIS (fo the Stranger). 
+
+
+A® thou dumb? Of all we ’ve brought here, 
+In thy mouth shall nothing fall ? 
+
+
+PHILEMON. 
+
+
+He would know the marvel wrought here : 
+Fain thou speakest: tell him all! 
+
+
+BAUCIS. 
+
+
+’T was a marvel, if there ’s any! 
+And the thought disturbs me still: 
+In a business so uncanny 
+
+Surely helped the Powers of IIL 
+
+
+PHILEMON. 
+
+
+Can the Emperor’s soul be perilled, 
+Who on him the strand bestowed ? 
+Gave the mandate not the herald, 
+Trumpeting, as on he rode? 
+
+Near our downs, all unexpected, 
+Was the work’s beginning seen, 
+Tents and huts ! — but, soon erected, 
+Rose a palace o’er the green. 
+
+
+BAUCIS. 
+Knaves in vain by day were storming,'™ 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT VP. 275 
+
+
+Plying pick and spade alike ; 
+Where the fires at night were swarming, 
+Stood, the following day, a dike. 
+Nightly rose the sounds of sorrow, 
+Human victims there must bleed: 
+Lines of torches, on the morrow, 
+Were canals that seaward lead. 
+He would seize our field of labor, 
+Hut and garden, godlessly : 
+
+Since he lords it as our neighbor, 
+We to him must subject be. 
+
+
+PHILEMON. 
+
+
+Yet he bids, in compensation, 
+Fair estate of newer land. 
+
+
+BAUCIS. 
+
+
+Trust not watery foundation ! 
+Keep upon the hill thy stand ! 
+
+
+PHILEMON. 
+
+
+Let us, to the chapel straying, 
+
+Ere the sunset-glow has died, 
+
+Chime the vespers, kneel, and, praying, 
+Still in our old God confide! 
+
+
+295 FAUST. 
+
+
+IIT. 
+
+
+PALACE. 
+
+
+SPACIOUS PLEASURE-GARDEN: BROAD, STRAIGHTLY- 
+cuT CANAL. 
+
+
+FAUST (in extreme old age, walking about, meditative). 
+
+
+LYNCEUS, THE WARDER 
+(through the speaking-trumpet). 
+
+
+oe sun goes down, the ships are veering 
+To reach the port, with song and cheer : 
+A heavy galley, now appearing 
+
+On the canal, will soon be here. 
+
+The gaudy pennons merrily flutter, 
+
+The masts and rigging upward climb : 
+Blessings on thee the seamen utter, 
+
+And Fortune greets thee at thy prime. 
+
+
+( The lsttle bell rings on the downs.) 
+
+
+FAUST (starting). 
+Accurséd chime! As in derision 
+It wounds me, like a spiteful shot: 
+My realm is boundless to my vision, 
+Yet at my back this vexing blot! 
+The bell proclaims, with envious bluster, 
+My grand estate lacks full design : *55 
+The brown old hut, the linden-cluster, 
+The crumbling chapel, are not mine. 
+If there I wished for recreation, 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT V. 277 
+
+
+Another’s shade would give no cheer: 
+A thorn it is, a sharp vexation, — 
+Would I were far away from here ! 
+
+
+WARDER (from above). 
+With evening wind and favoring tide, 
+See the gay galley hither glide! 
+How richly, on its rapid track, 
+Tower chest and casket, bale and sack! 
+(A splendid Galley, richly and brilliantly laden with the pro- 
+ductions of Foreign Countries.) 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. THE THREE MIGHTY MEN. 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+
+
+Here we have landed : 
+Furl the sail ! 
+
+Hail to the Master, 
+Patron, hail! 
+
+
+(They disembark : the goods ave brought ashore.) 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+We ’ve proved our worth in many ways, 
+Delighted, if the Patron praise ! 
+
+We sailed away with vessels twain, 
+With twenty come to port again.'* 
+
+Of great successes to relate, 
+
+We only need to show our freight. 
+
+Free is the mind on Ocean free - 
+
+Who there can ponder sluggishly ? 
+
+You only need a rapid grip: 
+
+You catch a fish, you seize a ship; 
+
+And when you once are lord of three, 
+The fourth is grappled easily ; 
+
+The fifth is then in evil plight; 
+
+You have the Power, and thus the Right. 
+
+
+278 FAUST. 
+
+
+You count the Whaf, and not the How: 
+If I have ever navigated, 
+
+War, Trade and Piracy, I vow, 
+
+Are three in one, and can’t be separated! 
+
+
+THE THREE MIGHTY MEN. 
+
+
+No thank and hail? 
+No hail and thank? 
+As if our freight 
+
+To him were rank! 
+He makes a face 
+
+Of great disgust ; 
+The royal wealth 
+Displease him must. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Expect no further 
+Any pay ; 
+
+Your own good share 
+Ye took away. 
+
+
+THE MIGHTY MEN. 
+
+
+We only took it 
+For pastime fair ; 
+We all demand 
+An equal share. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+First, arrange them 
+In hall on hall, — 
+The precious treasures, 
+Together all! 
+If such a splendor 
+Meets his ken, 
+
+
+And he regards it - 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT V. 279 
+
+
+More closely then, 
+
+A niggard he 
+
+Won’t be, at least: 
+
+He ’ll give our squadron 
+
+Feast on feast. 
+
+To-morrow the gay birds hither wend," 
+And I can best to them attend. 
+
+
+(Zhe cargo ts removed.) 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (fo FAUST). 
+
+
+With gloomy gaze, with serious brow, 
+Of this great fortune hearest thou. 
+Crowned is thy wisest industry, 
+And reconciled are shore and sea; 
+And from the shore, to swifter wakes, 
+The willing sea the vessels takes. 
+Speak, then, that here, from thy proud seat, 
+Thine arm may clasp the world complete. 
+Here, on this spot, the work was planned ; 
+Here did the first rough cabin stand ; 
+A little ditch was traced, a groove, 
+Where now the feathered oar-blades move. 
+Thy high intent, thy servants’ toil, 
+From land and sea have won the spoil. 
+From here — 
+FAUST. 
+
+Still that accursed Here / 
+To me a burden most severe. 
+To thee, so clever, I declare it, — 
+It gives my very heart a sting ; 
+It is impossible to bear it! 
+Yet shamed am I, to say the thing. 
+The old ones, there, should make concession ; 
+A shady seat would I create : 
+The lindens, not my own possession, 
+
+
+FA OST. 
+
+
+Disturb my joy in mine estate. 
+
+There would I, for a view unbaffled, 
+From bough to bough erect a scaffold, 
+Till for my gaze a look be won 
+
+O’er everything that I have done, — 
+To see before me, unconfined, 
+
+The masterpiece of human mind, 
+Wisely asserting to my sense 
+
+The people’s gain of residence. 
+
+No sorer plague can us attack, 
+
+Than rich to be, and something lack ! # 
+The chiming bell, the lindens’ breath, 
+Oppress like air in vaults of death: 
+My force of will, my potence grand, 
+Is shattered here upon the sand. 
+
+How shall I ban it from my feeling ! 
+
+I rave whene’er the bell is pealing. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES, 
+’T is natural that so great a spite 
+Thy life should thus imbitter quite. 
+Who doubts it? Every noble ear, 
+Disgusted, must the jangle hear; 
+And that accurséd bim-bam-booming, 
+
+
+Through the clear sky of evening glooming, 
+Is mixed with each event that passes, 
+
+
+From baby’s bath to burial-masses, 
+As if, between its dam and dine, 
+Life were a dream, in memory dim. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Their obstinate, opposing strain 
+Darkens the brightest solid gain, 
+Till one, in plague and worry thrust 
+Grows tired, at last, of being just. 
+
+
+ACT V. 281 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Why be annoyed, when thou canst well despise them ? 
+Wouldst thou not long since colonize them ? 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Then go, and clear them out with speed ! 
+Thou knowest the fair estate, indeed, 
+I chose for the old people’s need. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+We 'll set them down on other land; 
+Ere you can look, again they "ll stand: 
+When they ’ve the violence outgrown, 
+Their pleasant dwelling shall atone. 
+
+
+(He whistles shrilly.) 
+THE THREE enter. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Come, as the Master bids, and let 
+The fleet a feast to-morrow get! 
+
+
+THE THREE. 
+
+
+Reception bad the old Master gave: 
+A jolly feast is what we crave. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES 
+(ad spectatores). 
+
+
+It happens as it happed of old: 
+Still Naboth’s vineyard we behold ! 
+
+
+282 FAUST. 
+
+
+IV. 
+
+
+DEAD OF NIGHT. 
+
+
+LYNCEUS, THE WARDER 
+(singing on the watch-tower of the Palace). 
+OR seeing intended, 
+Employed for my sight, 
+The tower ’s my dwelling, 
+The world my delight. 
+I gaze on the Distant, 
+I look.on the Near, — 
+The moon and the planets, 
+The forest and deer. 
+So see I in all things 
+The grace without end, 
+And even as they please me, 
+Myself I commend. 
+Thou fortunate Vision, 
+Of all thou wast ’ware, 
+Whatever it might be, 
+Yet still it was fair! 
+Pause. 
+
+
+Not alone that I delight me, 
+
+Have I here been stationed so :— 
+What a horror comes, to fright me, 
+From the darksome world below ! 
+Sparks of fire I see outgushing 
+Through the night of linden-trees ; 
+
+
+Stronger yet the glow is flushing, 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT V. 283 
+
+
+Fanned to fury by the breeze. 
+Ah! the cabin burns, unheeded, 
+Damp and mossy though it stand: 
+Quick assistance here is needed, 
+And no rescue is at hand! 
+Ah, the good old father, mother, 
+Else so careful of the fire, 
+Doomed amid the smoke to smother !— 
+The catastrophe how dire! 
+Now the blackening pile stands lonely 
+In the flames that redly swell : 
+If the good old folk be only 
+Rescued from the burning hell! 
+Dazzling tongues the crater launches 
+Through the leaves and through the branches; 
+Withered boughs, at last ignited, 
+Break, in burning, from the tree : 
+Why must I be thus far-sighted ? 
+Witness such calamity ? 
+Now the little chapel crashes 
+*Neath a branch’s falling blow ; 
+Soon the climbing, spiry flashes 
+Set the tree-tops in a glow. 
+Down to where the trunks are planted 
+Burn they like a crimson dawn. 
+
+Long pause. Chant. 
+What erewhile the eye enchanted 
+With the centuries is gone. 
+
+
+#AUST 
+(on the balcony, towards the downs). 
+Above, what whining lamentation ? 
+The word, the tone, too late I heed. 
+My warder wails: | feel vexation 
+
+
+284 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+At heart, for this impatient deed. 
+
+Yet be the lindens extirpated, 
+
+Till half-charred trunks the spot deface, 
+A look-in-the-land is soon created, 
+Whence I can view the boundless space. 
+Thence shall I see the newer dwelling 
+Which for the ancient pair I raise, 
+
+Who, my benign forbearance feeling, 
+Shall there enjoy their latter days. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES AND THE THREE (de/ow). 
+
+
+We hither come upon the run! 
+Forgive! not happily ’t was done. 
+
+We knocked and beat, but none replied, 
+And entrance ever was denied ; 
+
+Of jolts and blows we gave good store, 
+And broken lay the rotten door ; 
+
+We called aloud, with direst threat, 
+
+But still no hearing could we get. 
+
+And, as it haps, with such a deed, 
+
+They would not hear, they would not heed ; 
+But we began, without delay, 
+
+To drive the stubborn folks away. 
+
+The pair had then an easy lot: 
+
+They fell, and died upon the spot. 
+
+A stranger, who was there concealed, 
+And fought, was left upon the field; 
+But in the combat, fierce and fast, 
+From coals, that round about were cast, 
+The straw took fire. Now merrily 
+
+One funeral pile consumes the three. 
+
+
+FAUST, 
+Deaf unto my commands were ye! 
+
+
+ACT V. 285 
+
+
+Exchange I meant, not robbery. 
+The inconsiderate, savage blow 
+I curse! Bear ye the guilt, and go! 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+
+
+The proverb old still runs its course : 
+Bend willingly to greater force ! 
+If you are bold, and face the strife, 
+Stake house and home, and then — your life! 
+[Zxeunt. 
+FAUST (on the balcony). 
+
+
+The stars conceal their glance and giow, 
+The fire sinks down, and flickers low ; 
+A damp wind fans it with its wings, 
+And smoke and vapor hither brings. 
+Quick bidden, and too quick obeyed ! — 
+What hovers hither like a shade ? 
+
+
+286 FAUST. 
+
+
+V. 
+MIDNIGHT.™ 
+Four Gray Women enter. 
+FIRST. 
+M Y name, it is Want. 
+SECOND. 
+And mine, it is Guilt. 
+THIRD. 
+And mine, it is Care. 
+FOURTH. 
+Necessity, mine." 
+
+
+THREE TOGETHER. 
+The portal is bolted, we cannot get in: . 
+The owner is rich, we ’ve no business within. 
+
+
+WANT. 
+I shrink to a shadow. 
+
+
+GUILT. 
+I shrink unto naught. 
+
+
+NECESSITY. 
+The pampered from me turn the face and the thought. 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT V. 287 
+
+
+CARE. 
+Ye Sisters, ye neither can enter, nor dare; 
+But the keyhole is free to the entrance of Care. 
+(CARE aisappears.) 
+
+
+WANT. 
+Ye, grisly old Sisters, be banished from here! 
+
+
+GUILT. 
+Beside thee, and bound to thee, I shall appear! 
+
+
+NECESSITY. 
+-At your heels goes Necessity, blight in her breath. 
+
+
+THE THREE. 
+
+
+The clouds are in motion, and cover each star! 
+
+Behind there, behind! from afar, from afar, 
+
+He cometh, our Brother! he comes, he is — — — 
+— — — Death! 
+
+
+FAUST (i the Palace). | 
+
+
+Four saw I come, but those that went were three ; 
+
+The sense of what they said was hid from me, 
+
+But something like “ Vecessity” I heard ; 
+
+Thereafter, “ Death,” a gloomy, threatening word ! 
+
+It sounded hollow, spectrally subdued : 
+
+Not yet have I my liberty made good: 
+
+If I could banish Magic’s fell creations, 
+
+And totally unlearn the incantations, — 
+
+Stood I, O Nature! Man alone in thee, | 
+Then were it worth one’s while a man to be! ™s | 
+Ere in the Obscure I sought it, such was I, — 
+
+Ere I had cursed the world so wickedly. 
+
+
+
+
+
+288. FA CST. 
+
+
+Now fills the air so many 2 haunting shape, 
+
+That no one knows how best he may escape. 
+
+What though One Day with rational brightness beams, 
+The Night entangles us in webs of dreams. 
+
+From our young fields of life we come, elate: 
+
+There croaks a bird: what croaks he? Evil fate! 
+
+By Superstition constantly insnared, 
+
+It grows to us, and warns, and is declared. 
+
+Intimidated thus, we stand alone. — 
+
+The portal jars, yet entrance is there none. 
+
+
+(Agitated. 
+Is any one here? 
+CARE. 
+Yes! must be my reply. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+And thou, who art thou, then ? 
+CARE. 
+Well, — here am I. 
+FAUST. 
+Avaunt! 
+CARE. 
+
+
+I am where I should be. 
+
+
+FAUST 
+(jirst angry, then composed, addressing himself). 
+Take care, and speak no word of sorcery! 
+
+
+CARE. 
+
+
+Though no ear should choose to hear me, 
+Yet the shrinking heart must fear me: 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT V. 289 
+
+
+Though transformed to mortal eyes, 
+
+Grimmest power I exercise. 
+
+On the land, or ocean yonder, 
+
+I, a dread companion, wander, 
+
+Always found, yet never sought, 
+
+Praised or cursed, as I have wrought! 
+Hast chou not Care already known ? 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+I only through the world have flown : 
+
+Each appetite I seized as by the hair; 
+
+What not sufficed me, forth I let it fare, 
+
+And what escaped me, I let go. 
+
+[ ’ve only craved, accomplished my delight, 
+
+Then wished a second time, and thus with might 
+Stormed through my life: at first ’t was grand, completely, 
+But now it moves most wisely and discreetly. 
+The sphere of Earth is known enough to me ; 
+
+The view beyond is barred immutably : 
+
+A fool, who there his blinking eyes directeth, 
+
+And o’er his clouds of peers a place expecteth ! 
+
+Firm let him stand, and look around him well! 
+
+This World means something to the Capable. 
+
+Why needs he through Eternity to wend ? 
+
+He here acquires what he can apprehend. 
+
+Thus let him wander down his earthly day; 
+
+When spirits haunt, go quietly his way ; 
+
+In marching onwards, bliss and torment find, 
+
+Though, every moment, with unsated mind ! 
+
+
+CARE. 
+
+
+Whom I once possess, shall never 
+Find the world worth his endeavor: 
+Endless gloom around him folding, 
+Rise nor set of sun beholding, 
+
+VOL. II. 13 S 
+
+
+290 
+
+
+FA OST. 
+
+
+Perfect in external senses, 
+Inwardly his darkness dense is ; 
+And he knows not how to measure 
+True possession of his treasure. 
+Luck and II] become caprices ; 
+Still he starves in all increases ; 
+Be it happiness or sorrow, 
+
+He postpones it till the morrow; 
+To the Future only cleaveth: 
+Nothing, therefore, he achieveth. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Desist! So shalt thou not get hold of me! 
+I have no mind to hear such drivel. 
+Depart! Thy gloomy litany 
+
+Might even befool the wisest man to evil. 
+
+
+CARE. 
+
+
+Shall he go, or come ?— how guide him? 
+Prompt decision is denied him; 
+
+Midway on the trodden highway 
+Halting, he attempts a by-way ; 
+
+Ever more astray, bemisted, 
+
+Everything beholding twisted, 
+Burdening himself and others, 
+
+Taking breath, he chokes and smothers, 
+Though not choked, in Life not sharing, 
+Not resigned, and not despairing ! 
+
+Such incessant rolling, spinning, — 
+Painful quitting, hard beginning, — 
+Now constraint, now liberation, — 
+Semi-sleep, poor recreation, 
+
+Firmly in his place insnare him 
+
+And, at last, for Hell prepare him! 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT V. 20% 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+IlLomened spectres! By your treatment strays 
+A thousand times the human race to error: 
+
+Ye even transform the dull, indifferent days 
+
+To vile confusion of entangling terror. 
+
+*T is hard, I know, from Dzmons to escape; 
+
+The spirit’s bond breaks not, howe’er one tries it; 
+And yet, O Care, thy power, thy creeping shape, 
+Think not that I shall recognize it! 
+
+
+CARE. 
+
+
+So feel it now: my curse thou ’It find, 
+
+When forth from thee I ’ve swiftly passed ! 
+Throughout their whole existence men are blind; 
+So, Faust, be thou like them at last! 
+
+
+(She breathes in his face.) 
+
+
+FAUST (blinded ). 
+The Night seems deeper now to press around me, 
+But in my inmost spirit all is light ; "6 
+I rest not till the finished work hath crowned me: 
+The master’s Word alone bestows the might. 
+Up from your couches, vassals, man by man! 
+Make grandly visible my daring plan! 
+Seize now your tools, with spade and shovel press ! 
+The work traced out must be a swift success. 
+Quick diligence, severest ordering 
+The most superb reward shall bring ; 
+And, that the mighty work completed stands, 
+One mind suffices for a thousand hands. 
+
+
+
+
+
+292 FAOST. 
+
+
+VI. 
+
+
+GREAT OUTER COURT OF THE PALACE 
+
+
+Torches. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (i advance, as Overseer). 
+
+
+OME here, come here! Come on, come on! 
+Ye Lemures, loose-hung creatures ! 
+Of sinew, ligament, and bone 
+Your knitted semi-natures ! 
+
+
+LEMURES (i Chorus). 
+Without delay are we at hand, 
+And half ’t is our impression 
+That this concerns a spacious land, 
+Whereof we ’ll have possession. 
+The pointed stakes, we bring them all, 
+The measuring-chain, for distance ; 
+But we ’ve forgotten why the call 
+Was made for our assistance. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+Here is no need of your artistic zeal : 
+
+Proceed as you may think it best! 
+
+Your tallest lay full length, from head to heel, 
+And lift the turf around him, all the rest! 
+
+As for our fathers made, prepare 
+
+To excavate a lengthened square! 
+
+From palace to the narrow house transferred, 
+Such is, at last, the issue most absurd. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT V. : 293 
+LEMURES *© 
+(digging with mocking gestures). 
+In youth when I did love, did love, 
+Methought it was very sweet; 
+When ’t was jolly and merry every way, 
+And I blithely moved my feet. 
+
+
+But now old Age, with his stealing steps, 
+Hath clawed me with his crutch: 
+
+I stumbled over the door of a grave ; 
+Why leave they open such? 
+
+
+FAUST 
+(comes forth from the Palace, groping his way along the door- 
+posts). 
+How I rejoice, to hear the clattering spade ! 
+It is the crowd, for me in service moiling, 
+Till Earth be reconciled to toiling, 
+Till the proud waves be stayed, 
+And the sea girded with a rigid zone. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (aside). 
+
+
+And yet, thou ’rt laboring for us alone, 
+With all thy dikes and bulwarks daring; 
+Since thou for Neptune art preparing — 
+The Ocean-Devil — carousal great. 
+
+In every way shall ye be stranded ; 
+
+The elements with us are banded, 
+
+And ruin is the certain fate. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+Overseer! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Here! 
+
+
+294 ‘ FA OST. 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+However possible, 
+Collect a crowd of men with vigor, 
+Spur by indulgence, praise, or rigor, — 
+Reward, allure, conscript, compel ! 
+Each day report me, and correctly note 
+How grows in length the undertaken moat. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (half aloud ). 
+
+
+When they to me the information gave, 
+They spake not of a moat, but of —a@ grave.™ 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Below the hills a marshy plain 
+
+Infects what I so long have been retrieving ; 
+This stagnant pool likewise to drain 
+
+Were now my latest and my best achieving. 
+
+To many millions let me furnish soil, 
+
+Though not secure, yet free to active toil ; 
+
+Green, fertile fields, where men and herds go forth 
+At once, with comfort, on the newest Earth, 
+
+And swiftly settled on the hill’s firm base, 
+Created by the bold, industrious race. 
+
+A land like Paradise here, round about : 
+
+Up to the brink the tide may roar without, 
+
+And though it gnaw, to burst with force the limit, 
+By common impulse all unite to hem it. 
+
+Yes! to this thought I hold with firm persistence ; 
+The last result of wisdom stamps it true: 
+
+He only earns his freedom and existence, 
+
+Who daily conquers them anew.'® 
+
+Thus here, by dangers girt, shall glide away 
+
+Of childhood, manhood, age, the vigorous day: 
+And such a throng I fain would see, — 
+
+Stand on free soil among a people free ! 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT V. 295 
+
+
+Then dared I hail the Moment fleeing: 
+“ Ah, still delay — thou art so fair /” 
+The traces cannot, of mine earthly being, 
+In zons perish, — they are there ! — 
+In proud fore-feeling of such lofty bliss, 
+I now enjoy the highest Moment, — this ! 
+|Faust sinks back: the LEMURES take him and lay him upon 
+the ground.) 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+No joy could sate him, and suffice no bliss! 
+To catch but shifting shapes was his endeavor: 
+The latest, poorest, emptiest Moment — this, — 
+He wished to hold it fast forever. 
+Me he resisted in such vigorous wise, 
+But Time is lord, on earth the old man lies.*® 
+The clock stands still — 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+Stands still! silent as midnight, now! 
+The index falls. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+It falls ; and it is finished, here! 
+
+
+CHORUS. 
+
+"T is past! 
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+— Past! a stupid word. 
+
+If past, then why ? 
+Past and pure Naught, complete monotony ! 
+What good for us, this endlessly creating ? — 
+What is created then annihilating? 
+“‘ And now it’s past!” Why read a page so twisted? 
+’T is just the same as if it ne’er existed, 
+
+
+FAUST. 
+
+
+Yet goes in circles round as if it had, however: 
+I ’d rather choose, instead, the Void forever. 
+
+
+SEPULTURE.'7 
+
+
+LEMUR. Solo. 
+
+
+Who then hath built the house so ill, 
+With shovel and with spade ? 
+
+
+LEMURES. Chorus. 
+
+
+For thee, dull guest, in hempen vest, 
+It all too well was made. 
+
+
+LEMUR. Solo. 
+
+
+Who then so ill hath decked the hall ? 
+No chairs, nor table any ! 
+
+
+LEMURES. Chorus. 
+
+
+*T was borrowed to return at call: 
+The creditors are so many. 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+The Body lies, and if the Spirit flee, 
+
+I ll show it speedily my blood-signed title. — 
+But, ah! they ’ve found such methods of requital, 
+His souls the Devil must oft abstracted see ! 
+
+One now offends, the ancient way ; 
+
+Upon the new we ’re not yet recommended : 
+Once, I alone secured my prey, 
+
+But now by helpers need to be befriended. 
+
+In all things we must feel the spite ! 
+
+Transmitted custom, ancient right, — 
+
+Nothing, indeed, can longer one confide in. 
+
+Once with the last breath left the soul her house ; 
+I kept good watch, and like the nimblest mouse, 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT V. 297- 
+
+
+Whack! was she caught, and fast my claws her hide in! 
+
+Now she delays, and is not fain to quit 
+
+The dismal place, the corpse’s hideous mansion ; 
+
+The elements, in hostile, fierce expansion, 
+
+Drive her, at last, disgracefully from it. 
+
+And though I fret and worry till I ’m weary, 
+
+When? How? and Where? remains the fatal query : 
+
+Old Death is now no longer swift and strong ; 
+
+Even the Whether has been doubtful long. 
+
+Oft I beheld with lust the rigid members : 
+
+*T was only sham; Life kindled from its embers. 
+(Fantastic, whirling gestures of conjuration.) 
+
+Come on! Strike up the double quick, anew, 
+
+With straight or crooked horns, ye gentlemen infernal ! 
+
+Of the old Devil-grit and kernel, 
+
+And bring at once the Jaws of Hell with you ! 
+
+Hell hath a multitude of jaws, in short,'7* 
+
+To use as suiteth place and dignity ; 
+
+But we, however, in this final sport, 
+
+Will henceforth less considerate be. 
+
+
+( Zhe fearful Faws of Hell open, on the left.) 
+The side-tusks yawn: then from the throat abysmal 
+The raging, fiery torrents flow, 
+And in the vapors of the background dismal 
+I see the city flame in endless glow. 
+Up to the teeth the breakers lash the red arena ; 
+The Damned, in hope of help, are swimming through; 
+But, caught and mangled by the fell hyena, 
+Their path of fiery torment they renew. 
+In every nook new horrors flash and brighten, 
+In narrow space so much of dread supreme! 
+Well have you done, the sinners thus to frighten ; 
+But still they ‘ll think it lie, and cheat, and dream! 
+
+
+(Zo the stout Devils. with short, straight horns.) 
+13* 
+
+
+298 FAUST. 
+
+
+Now, paunchy scamps, with cheeks so redly burning ! 
+Ye glow, so fat with hellish sulphur fed ; 
+
+With necks thick-set and stumpy, never turning, — 
+Watch here below, if phosphor-light be shed : 
+
+It is the Soul, the wingéd Psyche is it; 
+
+Pluck off the wings, ’t is but a hideous worm : '# 
+First with my stamp and seal the thing I ’ll visit, 
+Then fling it to the whirling, fiery storm ! 
+
+The lower parts be well inspected, 
+
+Ye Bloats! perform your duty well: 
+
+If there the Soul her seat selected 
+
+We cannot yet exactly tell. 
+
+Oft in the navel doth she stay: 
+
+Look out for that, she thence may slip away ! 
+
+
+( Zo the lean Devils, with long, crooked horas.) 
+
+
+Ye lean buffoons, file-leaders strange and giant, 
+Grasp in the air, yourselves no respite give ! 
+Strong in the arms, with talons sharp and pliant, 
+That ye may seize the fluttering fugitive ! 
+
+In her old home discomforted she lies, 
+
+And Genius, surely, seeks at once to rise.'73 
+
+
+(Glory from above, on the right.) 
+
+
+THE HEAVENLY HOST. 
+
+
+Envoys, unhindered, 
+Heavenly kindred, 
+Follow us here! 
+Sinners forgiving, 
+Dust to make living! 
+Lovingest features 
+Unto all creatures 
+
+- Show in your swaying, 
+Delaying career ! 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT V. 299 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+Discords I hear, a harsh, disgusting strumming, 
+Flung from above with the unwelcome Day; 
+T is that emasculate and bungled humming 
+Which Pious Cant delights in, every way. 
+You know how we, atrociously contented, 
+Destruction for the human race have planned : 
+But the most infamous that we ’ve invented 
+Is just the thing their prayers demand.'74 
+The fops, they come as hypocrites, to fool us! 
+Thus many have they snatched, before our eyes: 
+With our own weapons they would overrule us ; 
+They ’re also Devils — in disguise. 
+To lose this case would be your lasting shame; 
+On to the grave, and fortify your claim ! 
+
+
+CHORUS OF ANGELS (scattering roses).*75 
+Roses, ye glowing ones, 
+Balsam-bestowing ones ! 
+Fluttering, quivering, 
+Sweetness delivering, 
+Branching unblightedly, 
+Budding delightedly, 
+Bloom and be seen! 
+Springtime declare him, 
+In purple and green! 
+Paradise bear him, 
+
+The Sleeper serene! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (fo the Satans). 
+Why do ye jerk and squat? Is this Hell’s rule? 
+Stand to your ground, and let them sprinkle ! 
+Back to his place each gawky fool ! 
+They think, perhaps, with such a flowery crinkle, 
+
+
+300 FAUST. 
+
+
+As if ’t were snow, the Devils’ heat to cool: 
+Your breath shall make it melt, and shrink, and wrinkle. 
+Now blow, ye Blowers !— ’T is enough, enough ! 
+Before your breath fades all the floating stuff. 
+Not so much violence, — shut jaws and noses! 
+Forsooth, ye blow too strongly at the roses. 
+
+The proper measure can you never learn? 
+
+They sting not only, but they wither, burn ! 
+They hover on with flames of deadly lustre: 
+Resist them ye, and close together cluster ! — 
+Your force gives out; all courage fails you so: 
+The Devils scent-the strange, alluring glow. 
+
+
+ANGELS.'% 
+Blossoms of gratitude, 
+Flames of beatitude, 
+Love they are bearing now, 
+Rapture preparing now, 
+As the heart may ! 
+Truth in its nearness, 
+Ether in clearness, 
+Give the Eternal Hosts 
+Everywhere Day! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+O curse and shame upon such dolts be sped ! 
+Each Satan stands upon his head! 
+In somersaults the stout ones whirl and swerve, 
+And into Hell plunge bottom-uppermost. 
+Now may your bath be hot as you deserve! 
+But I remain, unflinching, at my post. 
+
+
+(Beating off the hovering roses.) 
+
+
+Off, will-o’-the-wisps! Bright as ye seem to be, 
+When caught, the vilest clinging filth are ye. 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT V. 301 
+
+
+Why flutter thus? Off with you, quick !— 
+Like pitch and sulphur on my neck they stick. 
+
+
+CHORUS OF ANGELS.'77 
+
+
+What not appertaineth 
+
+To you, cease to share it! 
+What inwardly paineth, 
+Refuse ye to bear it! 
+
+If it press in with might, 
+Use we our stronger right: 
+Love but the Loving 
+Leads to the Light! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES. 
+
+
+My head, heart, liver, by the flames are rent! 
+
+An over-devilish element ! — 
+
+Sharper than Hell’s red conflagration ! 
+
+Thence so enormous is your lamentation, 
+Unfortunate Enamored! who, so spurned, 
+
+Your heads towards the sweethearts’ side have turned. 
+Mine, too! What twists my head in like position? 
+With them am I not sworn to competition ? 
+
+The sight of them once made my hatred worse. 
+Hath then an alien force transpierced my nature? 
+I like to see them, youths of loveliest stature ; 
+What now restrains me, that I dare not curse ? 7 — 
+And if I take their cozening bait so, 
+
+Who else, henceforth, the veriest fool will be? 
+
+The stunning fellows, whom I hate so, 
+
+How very charming they appear to me! — 
+
+Tell me, sweet children, ere I miss you, 
+
+Are ye not of the race of Lucifer? 
+
+You are so fair, forsooth, I'd like to kiss you; 
+
+It seems to me as if ye welcome were. 
+
+I feel as comfortable and as trustful, 
+
+
+302 FAUST. 
+
+
+As though a thousand times ere this we ’d met! 
+So surreptitiously catlike-lustful : 
+
+With every glance ye ’re fairer, fairer yet. 
+
+O, nearer come, — O, grant me one sweet look! 
+
+
+ANGELS. 
+
+
+We come! Why shrink? Canst not our presence 
+brook ? 
+Now we approach : so, if thou canst, remain ! 
+
+
+(Zhe ANGELS, coming forward, occupy the whole space.) 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES 
+
+(who is crowded into the proscenium). 
+Us, Spirits damned, you brand with censure, 
+Yet you are wizards by indenture ; 
+For man and woman, luring, you enchain. — 
+What chance the curst adventure brings me? 
+Is this Love’s chosen element? 
+The fire o’er all my body stings me; 
+My neck I scarcely feel, so hotly sprent. — 
+Ye hover back and forth; sink down and settle! 
+Move your sweet limbs with more of worldly mettle! 
+The serious air befits you well, awhile, 
+But I should like, just once, to see you smile; 
+That were, for me, an everlasting rapture. 
+I mean, as lovers look, the heart to capture ; 
+About the mouth a simper there must be. 
+Thee, tall one, as enticing I ’l] admit thee; 
+The priestly mien does not at al] befit thee, 
+So look at me the least bit wantonly ! 
+You might be nakeder, and modest made so: 
+Your shirts’ long drapery is over-moral. — 
+They turh !— and, from the rear surveyed so, 
+With their attraction there ’s no need to quarrel! 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT V. 303 
+
+
+CHORUS OF ANGELS.!75 
+Love still revealing, 
+Flames, become clearer! 
+All, cursed with error, 
+Truth be their healing ! 
+Glad self-retrieval 
+Free them from Evil, 
+
+In the all-folding Breast, 
+Blessed, to rest! 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (collecting himself). 
+How is ’t with me ?— Like Job, the boils have cleft me 
+From head to foot, so that myself I shun ; 
+Yet triumph also, when my self-inspection ’s done, — 
+When self and tribe I have confided in. 
+The noble Devil-parts, at least, are left me! 
+This love-attack ’s a rash upon the skin. 
+Burned out already are the scurvy fires, 
+And one and all I damn you, as the case requires ! 
+
+
+CHORUS OF ANGELS. 
+Hallowed glories ! 
+Round whom they brood, 
+Wakes unto being 
+Of bliss with the Good. 
+Join ye, the Glorified, 
+Rise to your goal! 
+Airs are all purified, — 
+Breathe now the Soul! 
+( They rise, bearing away the immortal part of FAUST.) 
+
+
+MEPHISTOPHELES (looking around him). 
+
+
+But how ?— at once I find them failing ! 
+This race of minors takes me by surprise ! 
+
+
+304 FAUST. 
+
+
+They with their booty heavenwards are sailing ; 
+Thence on this grave they cast their greedy eyes! 
+My rare, great treasure they have peculated: 
+The lofty soul, to me hypothecated, 
+
+They ’ve rapt away from me in cunning wise. 
+But unto whom shall I appeal for justice ? 
+
+Who would secure to me my well-earned right? 
+Tricked so in one’s old days, a great disgust is ; 
+And I deserve it, this infernal spite. 
+
+I ’ve managed in a most disgraceful fashion ; 
+
+A great investment has been thrown away: 
+
+By lowest lust seduced, and senseless passion, 
+The old, case-hardened Devil went astray.’ 
+And if, from all this childish-silly stuff 
+
+His shrewd experience could not wrest him, 
+
+So is, forsooth, the folly quite enough, 
+
+Which, in conclusion, hath possessed him. 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT V. 305 
+
+
+VII. 
+
+
+MOUNTAIN-GORGES, FOREST, ROCK, 
+DESERT. 
+
+
+Hoty ANCHORITES,™® 
+Divided in ascending planes, posted among the ravines, 
+
+
+CHORUS AND ECHO. 
+
+
+ORESTS are waving grand, 
+Rocks, they are huge at hand, 
+
+Clutching, the roots expand, 
+Thickly the tree-trunks stand; 
+Foaming comes wave on wave; 
+Shelter hath deepest cave ; 
+Lions are prowling dumb, 
+Friendly where’er we come, 
+Honoring the sacred place, 
+Refuge of Love and Grace! 
+
+
+PATER ECSTATICUS ™ 
+
+
+(Aovering up and down). 
+Endless ecstatic fire, 
+Glow of the pure desire, 
+Pain of the pining breast, 
+Rapture of God possessed ! 
+Arrows, transpierce ye me, 
+Lances, coerce ye me, 
+Bludgeons, so batter me, 
+Lightnings, so shatter me, 
+
+
+306 
+
+
+FA OST. 
+
+
+That all of mortality’s 
+Vain unrealities 
+
+Die, and the Star above 
+Beam but Eternal Love! 
+
+
+PATER PROFUNDUS."3 
+(Lower Region.) 
+
+As at my feet abysses cloven 
+Rest on abysses deep below; 
+As thousand severed streams are woven 
+To foamy floods that plunging go; 
+As, up by self-impulsion driven, 
+The tree its weight sustains in air, 
+To Love, almighty Love, ’t is given 
+All things to form, and all to bear. 
+Around me sounds a savage roaring, 
+As rocks and forests heaved and swayed, 
+Yet plunges, bounteous in its pouring, 
+The wealth of waters down the glade, 
+Appointed, then, the vales to brighten ; 
+The bolt, that flaming struck and burst, 
+The atmosphere tp cleanse and lighten, 
+Which pestilence in its bosom nursed, — 
+Love’s heralds both, the powers proclaiming, 
+Which, aye creative, us infold. 
+May they, within my bosom flaming, 
+Inspire the mind, confused and cold, 
+Which frets itself, through blunted senses, 
+As by the sharpest fetter-smart ! 
+O God, soothe Thou my thoughts bewildered, 
+Enlighten Thou my needy heart ! 
+
+
+PATER SERAPHICUS,™ 
+(Middle Region.) 
+What a cloud of morning hovers 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT VP. 307 
+
+
+O’er the pine-trees’ tossing hair ! 
+Can I guess what life it covers ? 
+They are spirits, young and fair. 
+
+
+CHORUS OF BLESSED BOYS."5 
+
+
+Tell us, Father, where we wander ; 
+Tell us, Kind One, who are we. 
+Happy are we; for so tender 
+
+Unto all, it is, To Be. 
+
+
+PATER SERAPHICUS. 
+
+Boys, brought forth in midnights haunted, 
+Half-unsealed the sense and brain, 
+For the parents lost when granted, 
+For the angels sweetest gain ! 
+That a loving heart is nigh you 
+You can feel: then come to me! 
+But of earthly ways that try you, 
+Blest ones ! not a trace have ye. 
+Enter in mine eyes: enjoy them, 
+Organs for the earthly sphere ! 
+As your own ye may employ them : 
+Look upon the landscape here! 
+
+(He takes them into himself.) ™ 
+
+
+Those are trees, there rocks defend us: 
+Here, a stream that leaps below, 
+
+And with plunges, wild, tremendous, 
+Shorteneth its journey so. 
+
+
+BLESSED BOYS (from within him). 
+To a vision grand we waken, 
+But the scenes too gloomy show ; 
+We with fear and dread are shaken : 
+Kindest Father, let us go! 
+
+
+308 FAUST. 
+
+
+PATER SERAPHICUS. 
+
+
+Upward rise to higher borders ! 
+Ever grow, insensibly, 
+
+As, by pure, eternal orders, 
+
+God’s high Presence strengthens ye! 
+Such the Spirits’ sustentation, 
+
+With the freest ether blending ; 
+Love’s eternal Revelation, 
+
+To Beatitude ascending. 
+
+
+CHORUS OF BLESSED BOYS 
+(circling around the highest sumemest). 
+
+Hands now enring ye, 
+Joyously wheeling ! 
+Soar ye and sing ye, 
+With holiest feeling ! 
+The Teacher before ye, 
+Trust, and be bold! 
+Whom ye adore, ye 
+Him shall behold. 
+
+
+ANGELS 
+(soaring tn the higher atmosphere, bearing the immortal part of 
+
+Faust). 
+
+The noble Spirit now is free, 
+
+And saved from evil scheming : 
+
+Whoe’er aspires unweariedly 
+
+Is not beyond redeeming.” 
+
+And if he feels the grace of Love 
+
+. That from On High is given, 
+The Blessed Hosts, that wait above, 
+Shall welcome him to Heaven ! 
+
+
+THE YOUNGER ANGELS. 
+They, the roses, freely spended 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT F. 309 
+
+
+By the penstent, the zlorious, 
+
+Helped to make the fight victorious, 
+And the lofty work is ended. 
+
+We this precious Soul have won us; 
+Evil ones we forced to shun us ; 
+Deviis fled us, when we hit them: 
+*Stead of pangs of Heli, that bit them, 
+Love-pangs felt they, sharper, vaster : 
+Even he, old Satan- Master, 
+
+Pierced with keenest pain, retreated. 
+Now rejoice! The work ’s completed! 
+
+
+THE MORE PERFECT ANGELS. 
+Earth’s residue to bear 
+Hath sorely pressed us ; 
+It were not pure and fair, 
+Though ’t were asbestus. 
+When every element 
+The mind’s high forces 
+Have seized, subdued, and blent, 
+No Angel divorces 
+Twin-natures single grown, 
+That inly mate them: 
+Eternal Love, alone, 
+Can separate them.'® 
+
+
+THE YOUNGER ANGELS. 
+Mist-like on heights above, 
+We now are seeing 
+Nearer and nearer move 
+Spiritual Being. 
+
+The clouds are growing clear ; 
+And moving throngs appear 
+Of Blessed Boys, 
+
+Free from the earthly gloom, 
+
+
+310 FAUST. 
+
+
+In circling poise, 
+
+Who taste the cheer 
+
+Of the new spring-time bloom 
+Of the upper sphere. 
+
+Let them inaugurate 
+
+Him to the perfect state, 
+Now, as their peer ! 
+
+
+THE BLESSED BOYS. 
+
+
+Gladly receive we now . 
+
+Him, as a chrysalis : 
+Therefore achieve we now 
+Pledge of our bliss. 
+
+The earth-flakes dissipate 
+That cling around him! 
+
+See, he is fair and great! 
+Divine Life hath crowned him. 
+
+
+DOCTOR MARIANUS ‘9 
+(in the highest, purest cell). 
+Free is the view at last, 
+The spirit lifted : 
+There women, floating past, 
+Are upward drifted : 
+The Glorious One therein, 
+With star-crown tender, — 
+The pure, the Heavenly Queen, 
+I know her splendor. 
+(Enraptured.) 
+
+
+Highest Mistress of the World! 
+Let me in the azure 
+
+Tent of Heaven, in light unfurled, 
+Here thy Mystery measure! 
+Justify sweet thoughts that move 
+Breast of man to meet thee, 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT V. 311 
+
+
+And with holy bliss of love 
+Bear him up to greet thee ! 
+With unconquered courage we 
+Do thy bidding highest ; 
+But at once shall gentle be, 
+When thou pacifiest. 
+Virgin, pure in brightest sheen, 
+Mother sweet, supernal, — 
+Unto us Elected Queen, 
+Peer of Gods Eternal ! 
+Light clouds are circling 
+Around her splendor, — 
+Penitent women 
+Of natures tender, 
+Her knees embracing, 
+Ether respiring, 
+Mercy requiring ! 
+Thou, in immaculate ray, 
+Mercy not leavest, 
+And the lightly led astray, 
+Who trust thee, receivest ! 
+Jn their weakness fallen at :ength, 
+Hard it is to save them : 
+Who can crush, by native strength, 
+Vices that enslave them? 
+Whose the foot that may not slip 
+On the surface slanting? 
+Whom befool not eye and lip, 
+Breath and voice enchanting ? 
+
+
+(Zhe MATER GLORIOSA soars into the space.) ** 
+
+
+CHORUS OF WOMEN PENITENTS. 
+To heights thou ‘rt speeding 
+Of endless Eden : 
+
+Receive our pleading, 
+
+
+312 FAUST. 
+
+
+Transcendent Maiden, 
+With Mercy laden! 
+
+
+MAGNA PECCATRIX.'* (St. Luke, vii. 36.) 
+
+
+By the love before him kneeling, — 
+Him, Thy Son, a godlike vision ; 
+
+By the tears like balsam stealing, 
+Spite of Pharisees’ derision ; 
+
+By the box, whose ointment precious 
+Shed its spice and odors cheery ; 
+
+By the locks, whose softest meshes 
+Dried the holy feet and weary ! — 
+
+
+MULIER SAMARITANA. (St. John, iv.) 
+
+
+By that well, the ancient station 
+Whither Abram’s flocks were driven; 
+By the jar, whose restoration 
+
+To the Saviour’s lips was given; 
+
+By the fountain, pure and vernal, 
+Thence its present bounty spending, — 
+Overflowing, bright, eternal, 
+
+Watering the worlds unending ! — 
+
+
+MARIA ZGYPTIACA. (Acta Sanctorum.) 
+By the place, where the Immortal 
+Body of the Lord hath lain ; 
+
+By the arm, which, from the portal, 
+Warning, thrust me back again ; 
+By the forty years’ repentance 
+
+In the lonely desert-land ; 
+
+By the blissful farewell sentence 
+Which I wrote upon the sand ! — 
+
+
+THE THREE. 
+Thou Thy presence not deniest 
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT V. 313 
+
+
+Unto sinful women ever, — 
+
+Liftest them to win the highest 
+
+Gain of penitent endeavor, — 
+
+So, from this good soul withdraw not — 
+Who but once forgot, transgressing, 
+Who her loving error saw not — 
+Pardon adequate, and blessing ! 
+
+
+UNA PCENITENTIUM '* 
+(formerly named Margaret, stealing closer). 
+Incline, O Maiden, 
+With Mercy laden, 
+In light unfading, 
+Thy gracious countenance upon my bliss! 
+My loved, my lover, 
+His trials over 
+In yonder world, returns to me in this! 
+
+
+BLESSED BOYS 
+(approaching in hovering circles). 
+With mighty limbs he towers 
+Already above us ; 
+He, for this love of ours, 
+Will richlier love us. 
+Early were we removed, 
+Ere Life could reach us; 
+Yet he hath learned and proved, 
+And he will teach us. 
+
+
+THE PENITENT 
+(formerly named Margaret). 
+The spirit-choir around him seeing, 
+New to himself, he scarce divines 
+His heritage of new-born Being, 
+When like the Holy Host he shines. 
+VOL. IL 14 
+
+
+314 FAUST. 
+
+
+Behold, how he each band hath cloven, 
+The earthly life had round him thrown, 
+And through his garb, of ether woven, 
+The early force of youth is shown ! 
+Vouchsafe to me that I instruct him ! 
+Still dazzles him the Day’s new glare. 
+
+
+MATER GLORIOSA. 
+
+
+Rise, thou, to higher spheres! Conduct him, 
+Wha, feeling thee, shall follow there ! #% 
+
+
+DOCTOR MARIANUS 
+( prostrate, adoring). 
+
+Penitents, look up, elate, 
+Where she beams salvation; 
+Gratefully to blessed fate 
+Grow, in re-creation ! 
+Be our souls, as they have been, 
+Dedicate to Thee! 
+Virgin Holy, Mother, Queen, 
+Goddess, gracious be! 
+
+
+CHORUS MYSTICUS.™ 
+All things transitory 
+But as symbols are sent: 
+Earth’s insufficiency 
+Here grows to Event: 
+The Indescribable, 
+Here it is done: 
+The Woman-Soul leadeth us 
+Upward and on! 
+
+
+¥ 
+
+
diff --git a/year4/semester2/CT414/assignments/assignment2/data/augustine_city_of_god.txt b/year4/semester2/CT414/assignments/assignment2/data/augustine_city_of_god.txt
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+mM 
+
+
+MODERN Be LIBRARY 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+SAINT AUGUSTINE 
+THE 
+CITY OF GOD 
+
+
+TRANSLATED BY Marcus Dons, D.D. 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION BY THOMAS MERTON 
+
+
+m 
+
+
+A 
+
+
+THE MODERN LIBRARY 
+NEW YORK 
+
+
+2000 Modern Library Paperback Edition 
+Introduction copyright © 1950 and copyright renewed 1978 by Random House, Inc. 
+Biographical note copyright © 1999 by Random House, Inc. 
+
+
+All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright 
+Conventions. Published in the United States by 
+Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada 
+
+
+by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto. 
+MODERN LIBRARY and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc. 
+
+
+LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA 
+Augustine, Saint, Bishop of Hippo. 
+[De civitate Dei. English] 
+The city of God/translated by Marcus Dods; 
+introduction by Thomas Merton 
+p. cm. 
+eISBN: 978-0-307-76476-8 
+1. Kingdom of God—Early works to 1800. 2. Apologetics—Early church, 
+ca.30-600. I. Dods, Marcus, 1834-1909. _ II. Title. 
+BR65.A64E5 1994 
+213.7’2—dc20 93-27971 
+
+
+Modern Library website address: www.modernlibrary.com 
+
+
+v3.1 
+
+
+CONTENTS 
+
+
+Cover 
+Title Page 
+Copyright 
+
+
+Introduction by Thomas Merton 
+
+
+BOOK I. 
+Augustine censures the pagans, who attributed the calamities of the 
+world, and especially the sack of Rome by the Goths, to the Christian 
+religion and its prohibition of the worship of the gods. 
+
+
+BOOK II. 
+A review of the calamities suffered by the Romans before the time of 
+Christ, showing that their gods had plunged them into corruption and 
+vice. 
+
+
+BOOK III. 
+
+
+The external calamities of Rome. 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 
+That empire was given to Rome not by the gods, but by the One True 
+God. 
+
+
+BOOK V. 
+Of fate, freewill, and God’s prescience, and of the source of the virtues 
+of the ancient Romans. 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 
+
+
+Of Varro’s threefold division of theology, and of the inability of the 
+gods to contribute anything to the happiness of the future life. 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 
+Of the “select gods” of the civil theology, and that eternal life is not 
+obtained by worshipping them. 
+
+
+Some account of the Socratic and Platonic philosophy, and a 
+refutation of the doctrine of Apuleius that the demons should be 
+worshipped as mediators between gods and men. 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 
+Of those who allege a distinction among demons, some being good 
+and others evil. 
+
+
+Porphyry’s doctrine of redemption. 
+
+
+BOOK XI. 
+Augustine passes to the second part of the work, in which the origin, 
+progress, and destinies of the earthly and heavenly cities are 
+discussed.—Speculations regarding the creation of the world. 
+
+
+
+
+
+BOOK XII. 
+
+
+Of the creation of angels and men, and of the origin of evil. 
+
+
+BOOK XIII. 
+
+
+That death is penal, and had its origin in Adam’s sin. 
+
+BOOK XIV. 
+Of the punishment and results of man’s first sin, and of the 
+propagation of man without lust. 
+
+
+BOOK XV. 
+The progress of the earthly and heavenly cities traced by the sacred 
+history. 
+
+
+BOOK XVI. 
+The history of the city of God from Noah to the time of the kings of 
+Israel. 
+
+
+BOOK XVII. 
+
+
+The history of the city of God from the times of the prophets to Christ. 
+
+
+BOOK XVIII. 
+A parallel history of the earthly and heavenly cities from the time of 
+Abraham to the end of the world. 
+
+
+BOOK XIX. 
+A review of the philosophical opinions regarding the Supreme Good, 
+and a comparison of these opinions with the Christian belief regarding 
+happiness. 
+
+
+Of the last judgment, and the declarations regarding it in the Old and 
+New Testaments. 
+
+
+BOOK XXI. 
+Of the eternal punishment of the wicked in hell, and of the various 
+objections urged against it. 
+
+
+BOOK XXII. 
+Of the eternal happiness of the saints, the resurrection of the body, 
+and the miracles of the early Church. 
+
+
+
+
+
+Commentary 
+Reading Group Guide for The City of God 
+
+
+About the Author 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+BY THOMAS MERTON 
+
+
+Here is a book that was written over fifteen hundred years ago by a 
+mystic in North Africa. Yet to those who have ears to hear, it has a great 
+deal to say to many of us who are not mystics, today, in America. The 
+City of God is a monumental theology of history. It grew out of St. 
+Augustine’s meditations on the fall of the Roman Empire. But his 
+analysis is timeless and universal. That is to say, it is Catholic in the 
+etymological sense of the word. It is also Catholic in the sense that St. 
+Augustine’s view of history is the view held by the Catholic Church, and 
+by all Catholic tradition since the Apostles. It is a theology of history 
+built on revelation, developed above all from the inspired pages of St. 
+Paul’s Epistles and St. John’s Apocalypse. 
+
+To those who do not know St. Augustine, the figure of the great 
+Bishop of Hippo (the modern name of the city is Bona) may seem quite 
+remote. And to one who attempts to make his first acquaintance with 
+Augustine by starting to read The City of God from the beginning without 
+a guide, the saint may remain an unappealing personality and his book 
+may appear to be nothing more than a maze of curious, ancient fancies. 
+
+St. Augustine began to write this book three years after Rome first 
+collapsed and opened its gates to a barbarian invader. Alaric and his 
+Goths sacked the city in 410. Rome had been the inviolate mistress of 
+the world for a thousand years. The fall of the city that some had 
+thought would stand forever demoralized what was left of the civilized 
+world. Those who still took the pagan gods seriously—and it seems they 
+were not a few—looked about them for a scapegoat upon which to lay 
+the guilt for this catastrophe. The Christians had emerged from the 
+catacombs and had been officially recognized by the convert Emperor 
+Constantine. Nevertheless Christianity remained the object of 
+superstitious fear on the part of many, and it was inevitable that the bad 
+luck that had befallen the Empire should be blamed on the Catholic 
+
+
+Church. St. Augustine took up his pen in 413 and set about proving the 
+absurdity of such a charge. This furnished him with the subject matter 
+for the first ten books of The City of God—a work that was written 
+slowly, and appeared in installments over a period of thirteen years. But 
+the topic that first engaged his attention—Christianity versus the official 
+pagan religion of imperial Rome—is not one that will strike us, today, as 
+a living issue. Nor was it altogether worthy of the genius of Augustine. 
+After several years of writing he abandoned this aspect of the problem, 
+and left it to be disposed of by a certain Orosius, who will probably 
+never find his way into the catalogue of the Modern Library. We owe 
+him at least a debt of gratitude for having set Augustine free to write 
+about the problem that really interested him: the theology of the “two 
+cities” and of the intervention of God in human history. 
+
+The saint does not settle down to treat the real theme of his work until 
+he reaches Book Eleven. And even then, he takes such a broad view of 
+his subject that his approach to the main point seems to us 
+extraordinarily unhurried. He pauses to solve many questions of detail. 
+He embarks on a historical exegesis of the Old and New Testaments in 
+order to show how the “two cities” have entered into the very substance 
+of sacred history. Finally he completes this extraordinary panorama with 
+a view of the final end of the two cities, and of their respective fates in 
+eternity. How many Americans will have the patience to follow him 
+through all of this? Those who do so will certainly find themselves 
+profoundly changed by the experience, because they will have been 
+exposed to a summary of Christian dogma. It is an exposition that can 
+only be fully appreciated if it is read in the spirit in which it was written. 
+And The City of God is an exposition of dogma that was not only written 
+but lived. 
+
+What do we mean when we say that Augustine lived the theology that 
+he wrote? Are we implying, for instance, that other theologians have not 
+lived up to their principles? No. That possibility is not what concerns us 
+here. It is more than a question of setting down on paper a series of 
+abstract principles and then applying them in practice. Christianity is 
+more than a moral code, more than a philosophy, more than a system of 
+rites. Although it is sufficient, in the abstract, to divide the Catholic 
+religion into three aspects and call them creed, code and cult, yet in 
+practice, the integral Christian life is something far more than all this. It 
+
+
+is more than a belief; it is a life. That is to say, it is a belief that is lived 
+and experienced and expressed in action. The action in which it is 
+expressed, experienced and lived is called a mystery. This mystery is the 
+sacred drama which keeps ever present in history the Sacrifice that was 
+once consummated by Christ on Calvary. In plain words—if you can 
+accept them as plain—Christianity is the life and death and resurrection 
+of Christ going on day after day in the souls of individual men and in the 
+heart of society. 
+
+It is this Christ-life, this incorporation into the Body of Christ, this 
+union with His death and resurrection as a matter of conscious 
+experience, that St. Augustine wrote of in his Confessions. But Augustine 
+not only experienced the reality of Christ living in his own soul. He was 
+just as keenly aware of the presence and action, the Birth, Sacrifice, 
+Death and Resurrection of the Mystical Christ in the midst of human 
+society. And this experience, this vision, if you would call it that, 
+qualified him to write a book that was to be, in fact, the autobiography 
+of the Catholic Church. That is what The City of God is. Just as truly as 
+the Confessions are the autobiography of St. Augustine, The City of God is 
+the autobiography of the Church written by the most Catholic of her 
+great saints. 
+
+That is the substance of the book. But how is the average modern 
+American going to get at that substance? Evidently, the treatment of the 
+theme is so leisurely and so meandering and so diffuse that The City of 
+God, more than any other book, requires an introduction. The best we 
+can do here is to offer a few practical suggestions as to how to tackle it. 
+
+The first of these suggestions is this: since, after all, The City of God 
+reflects much of St. Augustine’s own personality and is colored by it, the 
+reader who has never met Augustine before ought to go first of all to the 
+Confessions. Once he gets to know the saint, he will be better able to 
+understand Augustine’s view of society. Then, no one who is not a 
+specialist, with a good background of history or of theology or of 
+philosophy, ought not to attempt to read the City, for the first time, 
+beginning at page one. The living heart of the City is found in Book 
+Nineteen, and this is the section that will make the most immediate 
+appeal to us today because it is concerned with the theology of peace. 
+However, Book Nineteen cannot be understood all by itself. The best 
+source for solutions to the most pressing problems it will raise is Book 
+
+
+Fourteen, where the origin of the two Cities is sketched, in an essay on 
+original sin. Finally, the last Book (Twenty-two), which is perhaps the 
+finest of them all, and a fitting climax to the whole work, will give the 
+reader a broad view of St. Augustine’s whole scheme because it describes 
+the end of the City of God, the communal vision of the elect in Paradise, 
+the contemplation which is the life of the “City of Vision” in heaven and 
+the whole purpose of man’s creation. 
+
+It may come as a surprise to some to learn that St. Augustine quite 
+spontaneously regarded contemplation as a communal endeavor. 
+Solitude may be necessary for certain degrees of contemplative prayer 
+on earth, but in heaven contemplation is the beatitude not merely of 
+separate individuals but of an entire city. That city is a living organism 
+whose mind is the Truth of God and whose will is His Love and His 
+Liberty. 
+
+God created Adam as a pure contemplative. Material creation was 
+subject to Adam’s reason, and the soul of Adam was perfectly subjected 
+to God. United to God in a very high degree of vision and love, Adam 
+would have transmitted to all mankind his own perfection, his own 
+liberty, his own peace in the vision of God. In Adam all men were to be, 
+as it were, “one contemplative” perfectly united to one another in their 
+one vision and love of the One Truth. 
+
+Original sin, an act of spiritual apostasy from the contemplative vision 
+and love of God, severed the union with God that depended on the 
+subjection of Adam’s will to the will of God. Since God is Truth, Adam’s 
+apostasy from Him was a fall into falsehood, unreality. Since God is 
+unity, Adam’s fall was a collapse into division and disharmony. All 
+mankind fell from God in Adam. And just as Adam’s soul was divided 
+against itself by sin, so all men were divided against one another by 
+selfishness. The envy of Cain, which would have been impossible in 
+Eden, bred murder in a world where each self-centered individual had 
+become his own little god, his own judge and standard of good and evil, 
+falsity and truth. 
+
+St. Augustine traces the history of this divided city of conflict and hate 
+through all history from the fall of Adam to the end of time and even 
+into eternity. But at the same time he contemplates and exposes to our 
+gaze the history of that other City, planned by God to repair the work 
+that Adam’s sin could not be allowed to ruin. It was in the “new Adam,” 
+
+
+Christ, that man was to be raised again to the friendship and vision of 
+God—not indeed the contemplation Adam had enjoyed in Eden, still less 
+the clear vision of beatitude: but heaven was to begin on earth in faith 
+and charity. God would be “seen” but only in darkness and man would 
+be united in “one Body” but only at the cost of struggle and self-sacrifice. 
+The whole of history since the ascension of Jesus into heaven is 
+concerned with one work only: the building and perfecting of this “City 
+of God.” Even the wars, persecutions, and all the other evils which have 
+made the history of empires terrible to read and more terrible to live 
+through, have had only this one purpose: they have been the flails with 
+which God has separated the wheat from the chaff, the elect from the 
+damned. They have been the tools that have fashioned the living stones 
+which God would set in the walls of His city of vision. 
+
+The difference between the two cities is the difference between two 
+loves. Those who are united in the City of God are united by the love of 
+God and of one another in God. Those who belong to the other city are 
+indeed not united in any real sense: but it can be said that they have one 
+thing in common besides their opposition to God: each one of them is 
+intent on the love of himself above all else. In St. Augustine’s classical 
+expression: “These two cities were made by two loves: the earthly city 
+by the love of self unto the contempt of God, and the heavenly city by 
+the love of God unto the contempt of self.” (Bk. 14, c. 28.) The earthly 
+city glories in its own power, the heavenly in the power of God. 
+
+But there is a deeper psychological explanation of these two loves and 
+of the way they contribute to the formation of two distinct societies. The 
+love which unites the citizens of the heavenly city is disinterested love, 
+or charity. The other city is built on selfish love, or cupidity. Now there 
+are two reasons why only one of these loves—charity—can serve as the 
+foundation for a happy and peaceful commonwealth. The first reason is 
+metaphysical: charity is a love that leads the will to the possession of 
+true values because it sees all things in their right order. It sees creatures 
+for what they are, means to the possession of God. It uses them only as 
+means and thus arrives successfully at the end, which is God. But 
+cupidity is doomed from the start to frustration because it is based on a 
+false system of values. It takes created things for ends in themselves, 
+which they are not. The will that seeks rest in creatures for their own 
+sake stops on the way to its true end, terminates in a value which does 
+
+
+not exist, and thus frustrates all its deepest capacities for happiness and 
+peace. The second reason is psychological and moral. Those who love 
+God love a supreme and infinite good that cannot be diminished by 
+being shared. Those who place their hopes on the possession of created 
+and limited goods are doomed to conflict with one another and to 
+everlasting fear of losing whatever they may have gained. Hence the city 
+that is united in charity will be the only one to possess true peace, 
+because it is the only one that conforms to the true order of things, the 
+order established by God. The city that is united merely by an alliance of 
+temporal interests cannot promise itself more than a temporary cessation 
+from hostilities and its order will never be anything but a makeshift. 
+
+St. Augustine has left us a famous illustration of the way the citizens 
+of the heavenly city are united in their knowledge and love of God. At 
+the beginning of his De Doctrina Christiana he calls to mind the audience 
+in a Roman theater. He shows us the spectators, coming together, 
+strangers, from different places, to sit and watch the play. Soon one of 
+the actors begins to arouse the admiration of individuals. They like him 
+and they begin to applaud. Then, finding their own enthusiasm 
+reproduced in others, they “begin to love one another for the sake of him 
+that they love.” A bond is established; they begin to encourage one 
+another in applauding their favorite. Anyone who has been to the opera 
+in a large Italian city will appreciate St. Augustine’s description. The 
+enthusiasm spreads through the crowd, and a “society” is spontaneously 
+generated by this common bond of love for a common object of 
+contemplation. At the same time, those who do not share this admiration 
+and love are, by that very fact, excluded and divided off into another, 
+contrary society. So it is with the two cities of heaven and earth. Their 
+two loves divide them beyond reconciliation. They are traveling in 
+opposite directions and thus it is impossible that their roads should ever 
+reach the same term. 
+
+Nevertheless, the fact that the two cities are opposed to one another 
+does not mean that they cannot peacefully co-exist here on earth. It is 
+not impossible that they should agree upon a modus vivendi. They can 
+come to terms, and it is well that they should do so. The temporal 
+advantage of worldly society is well served when the citizens of heaven 
+still living in the world are protected by the temporal power. And 
+although the Church as a whole can only profit by persecution, 
+
+
+nevertheless temporal peace is a greater blessing, and one to be prayed 
+and worked for, since it provides the normal condition under which 
+most men can safely expect to work out their eternal destiny. 
+
+Was St. Augustine planning a temporal theocracy, a Holy Roman 
+Empire in The City of God? It is abundantly clear that the City he 
+described is the Kingdom of Christ which, as Jesus told Pilate, is “not of 
+this world.” Nevertheless, that does not mean that Augustine would 
+necessarily have frowned upon a temporal theocracy. But it certainly 
+entitles us to suppose that he would not have placed very high hopes in 
+one. 
+
+The real value of this book, then, is not to be found in the help it may 
+offer in solving immediate problems of policy in the world. What it 
+offers us is something far more important. It opens our eyes to the deep 
+and vital view of history which is the Christian and mystical view, the 
+vision of St. Paul and of the Evangelists who knew that Christ had come 
+into the world to “draw all things to Himself” (John 12:32) and who saw 
+that “all things worked together for the good of them that love God” 
+(Romans 8:28) because all the good and evil of history, all the prosperity 
+and adversity which come upon the saints in this life serve only to 
+forward the growth of the Mystical Christ “unto a perfect man and unto 
+the measure of the age of the fulness of Christ” (Ephesians 4:13). This 
+eschatological view of history contemplates with joy the running out of 
+the sands of time and looks forward with gladness to the Last Day that 
+will make manifest the full and final glory of the “Whole Christ.” The 
+City of God, for those who can understand it, contains the secret of death 
+and life, war and peace, hell and heaven. 
+
+
+Appey OF GETHSEMANI 
+
+
+January 4, 1950. 
+
+
+BOOK FIRST 
+
+
+ARGUMENT 
+
+
+AUGUSTINE CENSURES THE PAGANS, WHO ATTRIBUTED THE CALAMITIES OF THE WORLD, AND 
+ESPECIALLY THE RECENT SACK OF ROME BY THE GOTHS, TO THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION, AND ITS 
+PROHIBITION OF THE WORSHIP OF THE GODS. HE SPEAKS OF THE BLESSINGS AND ILLS OF LIFE, WHICH 
+THEN, AS ALWAYS, HAPPENED TO GOOD AND BAD MEN ALIKE. FINALLY, HE REBUKES THE 
+SHAMELESSNESS OF THOSE WHO CAST UP TO THE CHRISTIANS THAT THEIR WOMEN HAD BEEN VIOLATED 
+
+
+BY THE SOLDIERS. 
+
+
+PREFACE, EXPLAINING HIS DESIGN IN UNDERTAKING THIS WORK 
+
+
+I glorious city of God is my theme in this work, which you, my 
+dearest son Marcellinus, suggested, and which is due to you by my 
+promise. I have undertaken its defence against those who prefer their 
+own gods to the Founder of this city—a city surpassingly glorious, 
+whether we view it as it still lives by faith in this fleeting course of time, 
+and sojourns as a stranger in the midst of the ungodly, or as it shall 
+dwell in the fixed stability of its eternal seat, which it now with patience 
+waits for, expecting until “righteousness shall return unto judgment,”1 
+and it obtain, by virtue of its excellence, final victory and perfect peace. 
+A great work this, and an arduous; but God is my helper. For I am aware 
+what ability is requisite to persuade the proud how great is the virtue of 
+humility, which raises us, not by a quite human arrogance, but by a 
+divine grace, above all earthly dignities that totter on this shifting scene. 
+For the King and Founder of this city of which we speak, has in Scripture 
+uttered to His people a dictum of the divine law in these words: “God 
+resisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble.”2 But this, which 
+is God’s prerogative, the inflated ambition of a proud spirit also affects, 
+and dearly loves that this be numbered among its attributes, to 
+
+
+“Show pity to the humbled soul, 
+
+
+And crush the sons of pride.”3 
+
+
+And therefore, as the plan of this work we have undertaken requires, and 
+as occasion offers, we must speak also of the earthly city, which, though 
+it be mistress of the nations, is itself ruled by its lust of rule. 
+
+
+1. Of the adversaries of the name of Christ, whom the barbarians for Christ’s sake spared when 
+
+
+they stormed the city 
+
+
+For to this earthly city belong the enemies against whom I have to 
+defend the city of God. Many of them, indeed, being reclaimed from 
+their ungodly error, have become sufficiently creditable citizens of this 
+city; but many are so inflamed with hatred against it, and are so 
+ungrateful to its Redeemer for His signal benefits, as to forget that they 
+would now be unable to utter a single word to its prejudice, had they 
+not found in its sacred places, as they fled from the enemy’s steel, that 
+life in which they now boast themselves. Are not those very Romans, 
+who were spared by the barbarians through their respect for Christ, 
+become enemies to the name of Christ? The reliquaries of the martyrs 
+and the churches of the apostles bear witness to this; for in the sack of 
+the city they were open sanctuary for all who fled to them, whether 
+Christian or Pagan. To their very threshold the bloodthirsty enemy 
+raged; there his murderous fury owned a limit. Thither did such of the 
+enemy as had any pity convey those to whom they had given quarter, 
+lest any less mercifully disposed might fall upon them. And, indeed, 
+when even those murderers who everywhere else showed themselves 
+pitiless came to these spots where that was forbidden which the licence 
+of war permitted in every other place, their furious rage for slaughter 
+was bridled, and their eagerness to take prisoners was quenched. Thus 
+escaped multitudes who now reproach the Christian religion, and impute 
+to Christ the ills that have befallen their city; but the preservation of 
+their own life—a boon which they owe to the respect entertained for 
+Christ by the barbarians—they attribute not to our Christ, but to their 
+own good luck. They ought rather, had they any right perceptions, to 
+attribute the severities and hardships inflicted by their enemies, to that 
+divine providence which is wont to reform the depraved manners of men 
+by chastisement, and which exercises with similar afflictions the 
+righteous and praiseworthy—either translating them, when they have 
+passed through the trial, to a better world, or detaining them still on 
+earth for ulterior purposes. And they ought to attribute it to the spirit of 
+
+
+these Christian times, that, contrary to the custom of war, these 
+bloodthirsty barbarians spared them, and spared them for Christ’s sake, 
+whether this mercy was actually shown in promiscuous places, or in 
+those places specially dedicated to Christ’s name, and of which the very 
+largest were selected as sanctuaries, that full scope might thus be given 
+to the expansive compassion which desired that a large multitude might 
+find shelter there. Therefore ought they to give God thanks, and with 
+sincere confession flee for refuge to His name, that so they may escape 
+the punishment of eternal fire—they who with lying lips took upon them 
+this name, that they might escape the punishment of present destruction. 
+For of those whom you see insolently and shamelessly insulting the 
+servants of Christ, there are numbers who would not have escaped that 
+destruction and slaughter had they not pretended that they themselves 
+were Christ’s servants. Yet now, in ungrateful pride and most impious 
+madness, and at the risk of being punished in everlasting darkness, they 
+perversely oppose that name under which they fraudulently protected 
+themselves for the sake of enjoying the light of this brief life. 
+
+
+2. That it is quite contrary to the usage of war, that the victors should spare the vanquished for 
+the sake of their gods 
+
+
+There are histories of numberless wars, both before the building of 
+Rome and since its rise and the extension of its dominion: let these be 
+read, and let one instance be cited in which, when a city had been taken 
+by foreigners, the victors spared those who were found to have fled for 
+sanctuary to the temples of their gods;4 or one instance in which a 
+barbarian general gave orders that none should be put to the sword who 
+had been found in this or that temple. Did not Æneas see 
+
+
+“Dying Priam at the shrine, 
+
+
+Staining the hearth he made divine?”° 
+
+
+Did not Diomedes and Ulysses 
+
+
+“Drag with red hands, the sentry slain, 
+Her fateful image from your fane, 
+Her chaste locks touch, and stain with gore 
+
+
+The virgin coronal she wore?”® 
+
+
+Neither is that true which follows, that 
+
+
+“Thenceforth the tide of fortune changed, 
+
+
+And Greece grew weak.”” 
+
+
+For after this they conquered and destroyed Troy with fire and sword; 
+after this they beheaded Priam as he fled to the altars. Neither did Troy 
+perish because it lost Minerva. For what had Minerva herself first lost, 
+that she should perish? Her guards perhaps? No doubt; just her guards. 
+For as soon as they were slain, she could be stolen. It was not, in fact, 
+the men who were preserved by the image, but the image by the men. 
+How, then, was she invoked to defend the city and the citizens, she who 
+could not defend her own defenders? 
+
+
+3. That the Romans did not show their usual sagacity when they trusted that they would be 
+benefited by the gods who had been unable to defend Troy 
+
+
+And these be the gods to whose protecting care the Romans were 
+delighted to entrust their city! O too, too piteous mistake! And they are 
+enraged at us when we speak thus about their gods, though, so far from 
+being enraged at their own writers, they part with money to learn what 
+they say; and, indeed, the very teachers of these authors are reckoned 
+worthy of a salary from the public purse, and of other honours. There is 
+Virgil, who is read by boys, in order that this great poet, this most 
+famous and approved of all poets, may impregnate their virgin minds, 
+and may not readily be forgotten by them, according to that saying of 
+Horace, 
+
+
+“The fresh cask long keeps its first tang.”® 
+
+
+Well, in this Virgil, I say, Juno is introduced as hostile to the Trojans, 
+and stirring up Æolus, the king of the winds, against them in the words, 
+
+
+“A race I hate now ploughs the sea, 
+Transporting Troy to Italy, 
+
+
+And home-gods conquered”? ... 
+
+
+And ought prudent men to have entrusted the defence of Rome to these 
+conquered gods? But it will be said, this was only the saying of Juno, 
+
+
+who, like an angry woman, did not know what she was saying. What, 
+then, says Aineas himself—AZneas who is so often designated “pious?” 
+Does he not say, 
+
+
+“Lo! Panthus, ’scaped from death by flight, 
+Priest of Apollo on the height, 
+His conquered gods with trembling hands 
+
+
+He bears, and shelter swift demands?”!° 
+
+
+Is it not clear that the gods (whom he does not scruple to call 
+“conquered”) were rather entrusted to Aineas than he to them, when it is 
+said to him, 
+
+
+“The gods of her domestic shrines 
+
+
+Your country to your care consigns?”!1 
+
+
+If, then, Virgil says that the gods were such as these, and were 
+conquered, and that when conquered they could not escape except under 
+the protection of a man, what madness is it to suppose that Rome had 
+been wisely entrusted to these guardians, and could not have been taken 
+unless it had lost them! Indeed, to worship conquered gods as protectors 
+and champions, what is this but to worship, not good divinities, but evil 
+omens?!2 Would it not be wiser to believe, not that Rome would never 
+have fallen into so great a calamity had not they first perished, but 
+rather that they would have perished long since had not Rome preserved 
+them as long as she could? For who does not see, when he thinks of it, 
+what a foolish assumption it is that they could not be vanquished under 
+vanquished defenders, and that they only perished because they had lost 
+their guardian gods, when, indeed, the only cause of their perishing was 
+that they chose for their protectors gods condemned to perish? The 
+poets, therefore, when they composed and sang these things about the 
+conquered gods, had no intention to invent falsehoods, but uttered, as 
+honest men, what the truth extorted from them. This, however, will be 
+carefully and copiously discussed in another and more fitting place. 
+Meanwhile I will briefly, and to the best of my ability, explain what I 
+meant to say about these ungrateful men who blasphemously impute to 
+Christ the calamities which they deservedly suffer in consequence of 
+
+
+their own wicked ways, while that which is for Christ’s sake spared them 
+in spite of their wickedness they do not even take the trouble to notice; 
+and in their mad and blasphemous insolence, they use against His name 
+those very lips wherewith they falsely claimed that same name that their 
+lives might be spared. In the places consecrated to Christ, where for His 
+sake no enemy would injure them, they restrained their tongues that 
+they might be safe and protected; but no sooner do they emerge from 
+these sanctuaries, than they unbridle these tongues to hurl against Him 
+curses full of hate. 
+
+
+4. Of the asylum of Juno in Troy, which saved no one from the Greeks; and of the churches of 
+the apostles, which protected from the barbarians all who fled to them 
+
+
+Troy itself, the mother of the Roman people, was not able, as I have 
+said, to protect its own citizens in the sacred places of their gods from 
+the fire and sword of the Greeks, though the Greeks worshipped the 
+same gods. Not only so, but 
+
+
+“Phoenix and Ulysses fell 
+
+In the void courts by Juno’s cell 
+
+Were set the spoil to keep; 
+Snatched from the burning shrines away, 
+There Ilium’s mighty treasure lay, 
+Rich altars, bowls of massy gold, 
+And captive raiment, rudely rolled 
+
+In one promiscuous heap; 
+While boys and matrons, wild with fear, 
+
+
+In long array were standing near.”!3 
+
+
+In other words, the place consecrated to so great a goddess was chosen, 
+not that from it none might be led out a captive, but that in it all the 
+captives might be immured. Compare now this “asylum”—the asylum 
+not of an ordinary god, not of one of the rank and file of gods, but of 
+Jove’s own sister and wife, the queen of all the gods—with the churches 
+built in memory of the apostles. Into it were collected the spoils rescued 
+from the blazing temples and snatched from the gods, not that they 
+might be restored to the vanquished, but divided among the victors; 
+while into these was carried back, with the most religious observance 
+
+
+and respect, everything which belonged to them, even though found 
+elsewhere. There liberty was lost; here preserved. There bondage was 
+strict; here strictly excluded. Into that temple men were driven to 
+become the chattels of their enemies, now lording it over them; into 
+these churches men were led by their relenting foes, that they might be 
+at liberty. In fine, the gentle!+ Greeks appropriated that temple of Juno 
+to the purposes of their own avarice and pride; while these churches of 
+Christ were chosen even by the savage barbarians as the fit scenes for 
+humility and mercy. But perhaps, after all, the Greeks did in that victory 
+of theirs spare the temples of those gods whom they worshipped in 
+common with the Trojans, and did not dare to put to the sword or make 
+captive the wretched and vanquished Trojans who fled thither; and 
+perhaps Virgil, in the manner of poets, has depicted what never really 
+happened? But there is no question that he depicted the usual custom of 
+an enemy when sacking a city. 
+
+
+5. Cesar’s statement regarding the universal custom of an enemy when sacking a city 
+
+
+Even Cesar himself gives us positive testimony regarding this custom; 
+for, in his deliverance in the senate about the conspirators, he says (as 
+Sallust, a historian of distinguished veracity, writes!5) “that virgins and 
+boys are violated, children torn from the embrace of their parents, 
+matrons subjected to whatever should be the pleasure of the conquerors, 
+temples and houses plundered, slaughter and burning rife; in fine, all 
+things filled with arms, corpses, blood, and wailing.” If he had not 
+mentioned temples here, we might suppose that enemies were in the 
+habit of sparing the dwellings of the gods. And the Roman temples were 
+in danger of these disasters, not from foreign foes, but from Catiline and 
+his associates, the most noble senators and citizens of Rome. But these, it 
+may be said, were abandoned men, and the parricides of their 
+fatherland. 
+
+
+6. That not even the Romans, when they took cities, spared the conquered in their temples 
+
+
+Why, then, need our argument take note of the many nations who 
+have waged wars with one another, and have nowhere spared the 
+conquered in the temples of their gods? Let us look at the practice of the 
+Romans themselves: let us, I say, recall and review the Romans, whose 
+chief praise it has been “to spare the vanquished and subdue the proud,” 
+
+
+and that they preferred “rather to forgive than to revenge an injury;”16 
+and among so many and great cities which they have stormed, taken, 
+and overthrown for the extension of their dominion, let us be told what 
+temples they were accustomed to exempt, so that whoever took refuge in 
+them was free. Or have they really done this, and has the fact been 
+suppressed by the historians of these events? Is it to be believed, that 
+men who sought out with the greatest eagerness points they could 
+praise, would omit those which, in their own estimation, are the most 
+signal proofs of piety? Marcus Marcellus, a distinguished Roman, who 
+took Syracuse, a most splendidly adorned city, is reported to have 
+bewailed its coming ruin, and to have shed his own tears over it before 
+he spilt its blood. He took steps also to preserve the chastity even of his 
+enemy. For before he gave orders for the storming of the city, he issued 
+an edict forbidding the violation of any free person. Yet the city was 
+sacked according to the custom of war; nor do we anywhere read, that 
+even by so chaste and gentle a commander orders were given that no 
+one should be injured who had fled to this or that temple. And this 
+certainly would by no means have been omitted, when neither his 
+weeping nor his edict preservative of chastity could be passed in silence. 
+Fabius, the conqueror of the city of Tarentum, is praised for abstaining 
+from making booty of the images. For when his secretary proposed the 
+question to him, what he wished done with the statues of the gods, 
+which had been taken in large numbers, he veiled his moderation under 
+a joke. For he asked of what sort they were; and when they reported to 
+him that there were not only many large images, but some of them 
+armed, “Oh,” says he, “let us leave with the Tarentines their angry 
+gods.” Seeing, then, that the writers of Roman history could not pass in 
+silence, neither the weeping of the one general nor the laughing of the 
+other, neither the chaste pity of the one nor the facetious moderation of 
+the other, on what occasion would it be omitted, if, for the honour of 
+any of their enemy’s gods, they had shown this particular form of 
+leniency, that in any temple slaughter or captivity was prohibited? 
+
+
+7. That the cruelties which occurred in the sack of Rome were in accordance with the custom of 
+
+
+war, whereas the acts of clemency resulted from the influence of Christ’s name 
+
+
+All the spoiling, then, which Rome was exposed to in the recent 
+calamity—all the slaughter, plundering, burning, and misery—was the 
+
+
+result of the custom of war. But what was novel, was that savage 
+barbarians showed themselves in so gentle a guise, that the largest 
+churches were chosen and set apart for the purpose of being filled with 
+the people to whom quarter was given, and that in them none were 
+slain, from them none forcibly dragged; that into them many were led by 
+their relenting enemies to be set at liberty, and that from them none 
+were led into slavery by merciless foes. Whoever does not see that this is 
+to be attributed to the name of Christ, and to the Christian temper, is 
+blind; whoever sees this, and gives no praise, is ungrateful; whoever 
+hinders any one from praising it, is mad. Far be it from any prudent man 
+to impute this clemency to the barbarians. Their fierce and bloody minds 
+were awed, and bridled, and marvellously tempered by Him who so long 
+before said by His prophet, “I will visit their transgression with the rod, 
+and their iniquities with stripes; nevertheless my loving-kindness will I 
+not utterly take from them.”!7 
+
+
+8. Of the advantages and disadvantages which often indiscriminately accrue to good and wicked 
+
+
+men 
+
+
+Will some one say, Why, then, was this divine compassion extended 
+even to the ungodly and ungrateful? Why, but because it was the mercy 
+of Him who daily “maketh His sun to rise on the evil and on the good, 
+and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.”!8 For though some of 
+these men, taking thought of this, repent of their wickedness and reform, 
+some, as the apostle says, “despising the riches of His goodness and long- 
+suffering, after their hardness and impenitent heart, treasure up unto 
+themselves wrath against the day of wrath and revelation of the 
+righteous judgment of God, who will render to every man according to 
+his deeds:”19 nevertheless does the patience of God still invite the 
+wicked to repentance, even as the scourge of God educates the good to 
+patience. And so, too, does the mercy of God embrace the good that it 
+may cherish them, as the severity of God arrests the wicked to punish 
+them. To the divine providence it has seemed good to prepare in the 
+world to come for the righteous good things, which the unrighteous shall 
+not enjoy; and for the wicked evil things, by which the good shall not be 
+tormented. But as for the good things of this life, and its ills, God has 
+willed that these should be common to both; that we might not too 
+eagerly covet the things which wicked men are seen equally to enjoy, 
+
+
+nor shrink with an unseemly fear from the ills which even good men 
+often suffer. 
+
+There is, too, a very great difference in the purpose served both by 
+those events which we call adverse and those called prosperous. For the 
+good man is neither uplifted with the good things of time, nor broken by 
+its ills; but the wicked man, because he is corrupted by this world’s 
+happiness, feels himself punished by its unhappiness.29 Yet often, even 
+in the present distribution of temporal things, does God plainly evince 
+His own interference. For if every sin were now visited with manifest 
+punishment, nothing would seem to be reserved for the final judgment; 
+on the other hand, if no sin received now a plainly divine punishment, it 
+would be concluded that there is no divine providence at all. And so of 
+the good things of this life: if God did not by a very visible liberality 
+confer these on some of those persons who ask for them, we should say 
+that these good things were not at His disposal; and if He gave them to 
+all who sought them, we should suppose that such were the only 
+rewards of His service; and such a service would make us not godly, but 
+greedy rather, and covetous. Wherefore, though good and bad men 
+suffer alike, we must not suppose that there is no difference between the 
+men themselves, because there is no difference in what they both suffer. 
+For even in the likeness of the sufferings, there remains an unlikeness in 
+the sufferers; and though exposed to the same anguish, virtue and vice 
+are not the same thing. For as the same fire causes gold to glow brightly, 
+and chaff to smoke; and under the same flail the straw is beaten small, 
+while the grain is cleansed; and as the lees are not mixed with the oil, 
+though squeezed out of the vat by the same pressure, so the same 
+violence of affliction proves, purges, clarifies the good, but damns, ruins, 
+exterminates the wicked. And thus it is that in the same affliction the 
+wicked detest God and blaspheme, while the good pray and praise. So 
+material a difference does it make, not what ills are suffered, but what 
+kind of man suffers them. For, stirred up with the same movement, mud 
+exhales a horrible stench, and ointment emits a fragrant odour. 
+
+
+9. Of the reasons for administering correction to bad and good together 
+
+
+What, then, have the Christians suffered in that calamitous period, 
+which would not profit every one who duly and faithfully considered the 
+following circumstances? First of all, they must humbly consider those 
+
+
+very sins which have provoked God to fill the world with such terrible 
+disasters; for although they be far from the excesses of wicked, immoral, 
+and ungodly men, yet they do not judge themselves so clean removed 
+from all faults as to be too good to suffer for these even temporal ills. 
+For every man, however laudably he lives, yet yields in some points to 
+the lust of the flesh. Though he do not fall into gross enormity of 
+wickedness, and abandoned viciousness, and abominable profanity, yet 
+he slips into some sins, either rarely or so much the more frequently as 
+the sins seem of less account. But not to mention this, where can we 
+readily find a man who holds in fit and just estimation those persons on 
+account of whose revolting pride, luxury, and avarice, and cursed 
+iniquities and impiety, God now smites the earth as His predictions 
+threatened? Where is the man who lives with them in the style in which 
+it becomes us to live with them? For often we wickedly blind ourselves 
+to the occasions of teaching and admonishing them, sometimes even of 
+reprimanding and chiding them, either because we shrink from the 
+labour or are ashamed to offend them, or because we fear to lose good 
+friendships, lest this should stand in the way of our advancement, or 
+injure us in some worldly matter, which either our covetous disposition 
+desires to obtain, or our weakness shrinks from losing. So that, although 
+the conduct of wicked men is distasteful to the good, and therefore they 
+do not fall with them into that damnation which in the next life awaits 
+such persons, yet, because they spare their damnable sins through fear, 
+therefore, even though their own sins be slight and venial, they are 
+justly scourged with the wicked in this world, though in eternity they 
+quite escape punishment. Justly, when God afflicts them in common 
+with the wicked, do they find this life bitter, through love of whose 
+sweetness they declined to be bitter to these sinners. 
+
+If any one forbears to reprove and find fault with those who are doing 
+wrong, because he seeks a more seasonable opportunity, or because he 
+fears they may be made worse by his rebuke, or that other weak persons 
+may be disheartened from endeavouring to lead a good and pious life, 
+and may be driven from the faith; this man’s omission seems to be 
+occasioned not by covetousness, but by a charitable consideration. But 
+what is blameworthy is, that they who themselves revolt from the 
+conduct of the wicked, and live in quite another fashion, yet spare those 
+faults in other men which they ought to reprehend and wean them from; 
+
+
+and spare them because they fear to give offence, lest they should injure 
+their interests in those things which good men may innocently and 
+legitimately use—though they use them more greedily than becomes 
+persons who are strangers in this world, and profess the hope of a 
+heavenly country. For not only the weaker brethren, who enjoy married 
+life, and have children (or desire to have them), and own houses and 
+establishments, whom the apostle addresses in the churches, warning 
+and instructing them how they should live, both the wives with their 
+husbands, and the husbands with their wives, the children with their 
+parents, and parents with their children, and servants with their masters, 
+and masters with their servants—not only do these weaker brethren 
+gladly obtain and grudgingly lose many earthly and temporal things on 
+account of which they dare not offend men whose polluted and wicked 
+life greatly displeases them; but those also who live at a higher level, 
+who are not entangled in the meshes of married life, but use meagre 
+food and raiment, do often take thought of their own safety and good 
+name, and abstain from finding fault with the wicked, because they fear 
+their wiles and violence. And although they do not fear them to such an 
+extent as to be drawn to the commission of like iniquities, nay, not by 
+any threats or violence soever; yet those very deeds which they refuse to 
+share in the commission of, they often decline to find fault with, when 
+possibly they might by finding fault prevent their commission. They 
+abstain from interference, because they fear that, if it fail of good effect, 
+their own safety or reputation may be damaged or destroyed; not 
+because they see that their preservation and good name are needful, that 
+they may be able to influence those who need their instruction, but 
+rather because they weakly relish the flattery and respect of men, and 
+fear the judgments of the people, and the pain or death of the body; that 
+is to say, their non-intervention is the result of selfishness, and not of 
+love. 
+
+Accordingly, this seems to me to be one principal reason why the good 
+are chastised along with the wicked, when God is pleased to visit with 
+temporal punishments the profligate manners of a community. They are 
+punished together, not because they have spent an equally corrupt life, 
+but because the good as well as the wicked, though not equally with 
+them, love this present life; while they ought to hold it cheap, that the 
+wicked, being admonished and reformed by their example, might lay 
+
+
+hold of life eternal. And if they will not be the companions of the good 
+in seeking life everlasting, they should be loved as enemies, and be dealt 
+with patiently. For so long as they live, it remains uncertain whether 
+they may not come to a better mind. These selfish persons have more 
+cause to fear than those to whom it was said through the prophet, “He is 
+taken away in his iniquity, but his blood will I require at the watchman’s 
+hand.”2! For watchmen or overseers of the people are appointed in 
+churches, that they may unsparingly rebuke sin. Nor is that man guiltless 
+of the sin we speak of, who, though he be not a watchman, yet sees in 
+the conduct of those with whom the relationships of this life bring him 
+into contact, many things that should be blamed, and yet overlooks 
+them, fearing to give offence, and lose such worldly blessings as may 
+legitimately be desired, but which he too eagerly grasps. Then, lastly, 
+there is another reason why the good are afflicted with temporal 
+calamities—the reason which Job’s case exemplifies: that the human 
+spirit may be proved, and that it may be manifested with what fortitude 
+of pious trust, and with how unmercenary a love, it cleaves to God.22 
+
+
+10. That the saints lose nothing in losing temporal goods 
+
+
+These are the considerations which one must keep in view, that he 
+may answer the question whether any evil happens to the faithful and 
+godly which cannot be turned to profit. Or shall we say that the question 
+is needless, and that the apostle is vapouring when he says, “We know 
+that all things work together for good to them that love God?”23 
+
+They lost all they had. Their faith? Their godliness? The possessions of 
+the hidden man of the heart, which in the sight of God are of great 
+price?24 Did they lose these? For these are the wealth of Christians, to 
+whom the wealthy apostle said, “Godliness with contentment is great 
+gain. For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can 
+carry nothing out. And having food and raiment, let us be therewith 
+content. But they that will be rich fall into temptation and a snare, and 
+into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in destruction and 
+perdition. For the love of money is the root of all evil; which, while 
+some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced 
+themselves through with many sorrows.”25 
+
+They, then, who lost their worldly all in the sack of Rome, if they 
+owned their possessions as they had been taught by the apostle, who 
+
+
+himself was poor without, but rich within—that is to say, if they used 
+the world as not using it—could say in the words of Job, heavily tried, 
+but not overcome: “Naked came I out of my mother’s womb, and naked 
+shall I return thither: the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; as it 
+pleased the Lord, so has it come to pass: blessed be the name of the 
+Lord.”26 Like a good servant, Job counted the will of his Lord his great 
+possession, by obedience to which his soul was enriched; nor did it 
+grieve him to lose, while yet living, those goods which he must shortly 
+leave at his death. But as to those feebler spirits who, though they 
+cannot be said to prefer earthly possessions to Christ, do yet cleave to 
+them with a somewhat immoderate attachment, they have discovered by 
+the pain of losing these things how much they were sinning in loving 
+them. For their grief is of their own making; in the words of the apostle 
+quoted above, “they have pierced themselves through with many 
+sorrows.” For it was well that they who had so long despised these 
+verbal admonitions should receive the teaching of experience. For when 
+the apostle says, “They that will be rich fall into temptation,” and so on, 
+what he blames in riches is not the possession of them, but the desire of 
+them. For elsewhere he says, “Charge them that are rich in this world, 
+that they be not high-minded, nor trust in uncertain riches, but in the 
+living God, who giveth us richly all things to enjoy; that they do good, 
+that they be rich in good works, ready to distribute, willing to 
+communicate; laying up in store for themselves a good foundation 
+against the time to come, that they may lay hold on eternal life.”2” They 
+who were making such a use of their property have been consoled for 
+light losses by great gains, and have had more pleasure in those 
+possessions which they have securely laid past, by freely giving them 
+away, than grief in those which they entirely lost by an anxious and 
+selfish hoarding of them. For nothing could perish on earth save what 
+they would be ashamed to carry away from earth. Our Lord’s injunction 
+runs, “Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and 
+rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal; but lay up 
+for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth 
+corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: for where 
+your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”28 And they who have 
+listened to this injunction have proved in the time of tribulation how 
+well they were advised in not despising this most trustworthy teacher, 
+
+
+and most faithful and mighty guardian of their treasure. For if many 
+were glad that their treasure was stored in places which the enemy 
+chanced not to light upon, how much better founded was the joy of 
+those who, by the counsel of their God, had fled with their treasure to a 
+citadel which no enemy can possibly reach! Thus our Paulinus, bishop of 
+Nola,22 who voluntarily abandoned vast wealth and became quite poor, 
+though abundantly rich in holiness, when the barbarians sacked Nola, 
+and took him prisoner, used silently to pray, as he afterwards told me, 
+“O Lord, let me not be troubled for gold and silver, for where all my 
+treasure is Thou knowest.” For all his treasure was where he had been 
+taught to hide and store it by Him who had also foretold that these 
+calamities would happen in the world. Consequently those persons who 
+obeyed their Lord when He warned them where and how to lay up 
+treasure, did not lose even their earthly possessions in the invasion of 
+the barbarians; while those who are now repenting that they did not 
+obey Him have learnt the right use of earthly goods, if not by the 
+wisdom which would have prevented their loss, at least by the 
+experience which follows it. 
+
+But some good and Christian men have been put to the torture, that 
+they might be forced to deliver up their goods to the enemy. They could 
+indeed neither deliver nor lose that good which made themselves good. 
+If, however, they preferred torture to the surrender of the mammon of 
+iniquity, then I say they were not good men. Rather they should have 
+been reminded that, if they suffered so severely for the sake of money, 
+they should endure all torment, if need be, for Christ’s sake; that they 
+might be taught to love Him rather who enriches with eternal felicity all 
+who suffer for Him, and not silver and gold, for which it was pitiable to 
+suffer, whether they preserved it by telling a lie, or lost it by telling the 
+truth. For under these tortures no one lost Christ by confessing Him, no 
+one preserved wealth save by denying its existence. So that possibly the 
+torture which taught them that they should set their affections on a 
+possession they could not lose, was more useful than those possessions 
+which, without any useful fruit at all, disquieted and tormented their 
+anxious owners. But then we are reminded that some were tortured who 
+had no wealth to surrender, but who were not believed when they said 
+so. These too, however, had perhaps some craving for wealth, and were 
+not willingly poor with a holy resignation; and to such it had to be made 
+
+
+plain, that not the actual possession alone, but also the desire of wealth, 
+deserved such excruciating pains. And even if they were destitute of any 
+hidden stores of gold and silver, because they were living in hopes of a 
+better life—I know not indeed if any such person was tortured on the 
+supposition that he had wealth; but if so, then certainly in confessing, 
+when put to the question, a holy poverty, he confessed Christ. And 
+though it was scarcely to be expected that the barbarians should believe 
+him, yet no confessor of a holy poverty could be tortured without 
+receiving a heavenly reward. 
+
+Again, they say that the long famine laid many a Christian low. But 
+this, too, the faithful turned to good uses by a pious endurance of it. For 
+those whom famine killed outright it rescued from the ills of this life, as 
+a kindly disease would have done; and those who were only hunger- 
+bitten were taught to live more sparingly, and inured to longer fasts. 
+
+
+11. Of the end of this life, whether it is material that it be long delayed 
+
+
+But, it is added, many Christians were slaughtered, and were put to 
+death in a hideous variety of cruel ways. Well if this be hard to bear, it is 
+assuredly the common lot of all who are born into this life. Of this at 
+least I am certain, that no one has ever died who was not destined to die 
+some time. Now the end of life puts the longest life on a par with the 
+shortest. For of two things which have alike ceased to be, the one is not 
+better, the other worse—the one greater, the other less.30 And of what 
+consequence is it what kind of death puts an end to life, since he who 
+has died once is not forced to go through the same ordeal a second time? 
+And as in the daily casualties of life every man is, as it were, threatened 
+with numberless deaths, so long as it remains uncertain which of them is 
+his fate, I would ask whether it is not better to suffer one and die, than 
+to live in fear of all? I am not unaware of the poor-spirited fear which 
+prompts us to choose rather to live long in fear of so many deaths, than 
+to die once and so escape them all; but the weak and cowardly shrinking 
+of the flesh is one thing, and the well-considered and reasonable 
+persuasion of the soul quite another. That death is not to be judged an 
+evil which is the end of a good life; for death becomes evil only by the 
+retribution which follows it. They, then, who are destined to die, need 
+not be careful to inquire what death they are to die, but into what place 
+death will usher them. And since Christians are well aware that the 
+
+
+death of the godly pauper whose sores the dogs licked was far better 
+than of the wicked rich man who lay in purple and fine linen, what harm 
+could these terrific deaths do to the dead who had lived well? 
+
+
+12. Of the burial of the dead: that the denial of it to Christians does them no injury? 
+
+
+Further still, we are reminded that in such a carnage as then occurred, 
+the bodies could not even be buried. But godly confidence is not 
+appalled by so ill-omened a circumstance; for the faithful bear in mind 
+that assurance has been given that not a hair of their head shall perish, 
+and that, therefore, though they even be devoured by beasts, their 
+blessed resurrection will not hereby be hindered. The Truth would 
+nowise have said, “Fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to 
+kill the soul,”32 if anything whatever that an enemy could do to the body 
+of the slain could be detrimental to the future life. Or will some one 
+perhaps take so absurd a position as to contend that those who kill the 
+body are not to be feared before death, and lest they kill the body, but 
+after death, lest they deprive it of burial? If this be so, then that is false 
+which Christ says, “Be not afraid of them that kill the body, and after 
+that have no more that they can do;”33 for it seems they can do great 
+injury to the dead body. Far be it from us to suppose that the Truth can 
+be thus false. They who kill the body are said “to do something,” 
+because the death-blow is felt, the body still having sensation; but after 
+that, they have no more that they can do, for in the slain body there is 
+no sensation. And so there are indeed many bodies of Christians lying 
+unburied; but no one has separated them from heaven, nor from that 
+earth which is all filled with the presence of Him who knows whence He 
+will raise again what He created. It is said, indeed, in the Psalm: “The 
+dead bodies of Thy servants have they given to be meat unto the fowls of 
+the heaven, the flesh of Thy saints unto the beasts of the earth. Their 
+blood have they shed like water round about Jerusalem; and there was 
+none to bury them.”34 But this was said rather to exhibit the cruelty of 
+those who did these things, than the misery of those who suffered them. 
+To the eyes of men this appears a harsh and doleful lot, yet “precious in 
+the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints.”35 Wherefore all these last 
+offices and ceremonies that concern the dead, the careful funeral 
+arrangements, and the equipment of the tomb, and the pomp of 
+obsequies, are rather the solace of the living than the comfort of the 
+
+
+dead. If a costly burial does any good to a wicked man, a squalid burial, 
+or none at all, may harm the godly. His crowd of domestics furnished the 
+purple-clad Dives with a funeral gorgeous in the eye of man; but in the 
+sight of God that was a more sumptuous funeral which the ulcerous 
+pauper received at the hands of the angels, who did not carry him out to 
+a marble tomb, but bore him aloft to Abraham’s bosom. 
+
+The men against whom I have undertaken to defend the city of God 
+laugh at all this. But even their own philosophers?6 have despised a 
+careful burial; and often whole armies have fought and fallen for their 
+earthly country without caring to inquire whether they would be left 
+exposed on the field of battle, or become the food of wild beasts. Of this 
+noble disregard of sepulture poetry has well said: “He who has no tomb 
+has the sky for his vault.”37 How much less ought they to insult over the 
+unburied bodies of Christians, to whom it has been promised that the 
+flesh itself shall be restored, and the body formed anew, all the members 
+of it being gathered not only from the earth, but from the most secret 
+recesses of any other of the elements in which the dead bodies of men 
+have lain hid! 
+
+
+13. Reasons for burying the bodies of the saints 
+
+
+Nevertheless the bodies of the dead are not on this account to be 
+despised and left unburied; least of all the bodies of the righteous and 
+faithful, which have been used by the Holy Ghost as His organs and 
+instruments for all good works. For if the dress of a father, or his ring, or 
+anything he wore, be precious to his children, in proportion to the love 
+they bore him, with how much more reason ought we to care for the 
+bodies of those we love, which they wore far more closely and 
+intimately than any clothing? For the body is not an extraneous 
+ornament or aid, but a part of man’s very nature. And therefore to the 
+righteous of ancient times the last offices were piously rendered, and 
+sepulchres provided for them, and obsequies celebrated;38 and they 
+themselves, while yet alive, gave commandment to their sons about the 
+burial, and, on occasion, even about the removal of their bodies to some 
+favourite place.3? And Tobit, according to the angel’s testimony, is 
+commended, and is said to have pleased God by burying the dead.49 Our 
+Lord Himself, too, though He was to rise again the third day, applauds, 
+and commends to our applause, the good work of the religious woman 
+
+
+who poured precious ointment over His limbs, and did it against His 
+burial.41 And the Gospel speaks with commendation of those who were 
+careful to take down His body from the cross, and wrap it lovingly in 
+costly cerements, and see to its burial.42 These instances certainly do not 
+prove that corpses have any feeling; but they show that God’s 
+providence extends even to the bodies of the dead, and that such pious 
+offices are pleasing to Him, as cherishing faith in the resurrection. And 
+we may also draw from them this wholesome lesson, that if God does 
+not forget even any kind office which loving care pays to the 
+unconscious dead, much more does He reward the charity we exercise 
+towards the living. Other things, indeed, which the holy patriarchs said 
+of the burial and removal of their bodies, they meant to be taken in a 
+prophetic sense; but of these we need not here speak at large, what we 
+have already said being sufficient. But if the want of those things which 
+are necessary for the support of the living, as food and clothing, though 
+painful and trying, does not break down the fortitude and virtuous 
+endurance of good men, nor eradicate piety from their souls, but rather 
+renders it more fruitful, how much less can the absence of the funeral, 
+and of the other customary attentions paid to the dead, render those 
+wretched who are already reposing in the hidden abodes of the blessed! 
+Consequently, though in the sack of Rome and of other towns the dead 
+bodies of the Christians were deprived of these last offices, this is neither 
+the fault of the living, for they could not render them; nor an infliction 
+to the dead, for they cannot feel the loss. 
+
+
+14. Of the captivity of the saints, and that divine consolation never failed them therein 
+
+
+But, say they, many Christians were even led away captive. This 
+indeed were a most pitiable fate, if they could be led away to any place 
+where they could not find their God. But for this calamity also sacred 
+Scripture affords great consolation. The three youths*3 were captives; 
+Daniel was a captive; so were other prophets: and God, the comforter, 
+did not fail them. And in like manner He has not failed His own people 
+in the power of a nation which, though barbarous, is yet human—He 
+who did not abandon the prophet*4 in the belly of a monster. These 
+things, indeed, are turned to ridicule rather than credited by those with 
+whom we are debating; though they believe what they read in their own 
+books, that Arion of Methymna, the famous lyrist,45 when he was 
+
+
+thrown overboard, was received on a dolphin’s back and carried to land. 
+But that story of ours about the prophet Jonah is far more incredible— 
+more incredible because more marvellous, and more marvellous because 
+a greater exhibition of power. 
+
+
+15. Of Regulus, in whom we have an example of the voluntary endurance of captivity for the sake 
+
+
+of religion; which yet did not profit him, though he was a worshipper of the gods 
+
+
+But among their own famous men they have a very noble example of 
+the voluntary endurance of captivity in obedience to a religious scruple. 
+Marcus Attilius Regulus, a Roman general, was a prisoner in the hands of 
+the Carthaginians. But they, being more anxious to exchange their 
+prisoners with the Romans than to keep them, sent Regulus as a special 
+envoy with their own ambassadors to negotiate this exchange, but bound 
+him first with an oath, that if he failed to accomplish their wish, he 
+would return to Carthage. He went, and persuaded the senate to the 
+opposite course, because he believed it was not for the advantage of the 
+Roman republic to make an exchange of prisoners. After he had thus 
+exerted his influence, the Romans did not compel him to return to the 
+enemy; but what he had sworn he voluntarily performed. But the 
+Carthaginians put him to death with refined, elaborate, and horrible 
+tortures. They shut him up in a narrow box, in which he was compelled 
+to stand, and in which finely sharpened nails were fixed all round about 
+him, so that he could not lean upon any part of it without intense pain; 
+and so they killed him by depriving him of sleep.4© With justice, indeed, 
+do they applaud the virtue which rose superior to so frightful a fate. 
+However, the gods he swore by were those who are now supposed to 
+avenge the prohibition of their worship, by inflicting these present 
+calamities on the human race. But if these gods, who were worshipped 
+specially in this behalf, that they might confer happiness in this life, 
+either willed or permitted these punishments to be inflicted on one who 
+kept his oath to them, what more cruel punishment could they in their 
+anger have inflicted on a perjured person? But why may I not draw from 
+my reasoning a double inference? Regulus certainly had such reverence 
+for the gods, that for his oath’s sake he would neither remain in his own 
+land, nor go elsewhere, but without hesitation returned to his bitterest 
+enemies. If he thought that this course would be advantageous with 
+respect to this present life, he was certainly much deceived, for it 
+
+
+brought his life to a frightful termination. By his own example, in fact, 
+he taught that the gods do not secure the temporal happiness of their 
+worshippers; since he himself, who was devoted to their worship, was 
+both conquered in battle and taken prisoner, and then, because he 
+refused to act in violation of the oath he had sworn by them, was 
+tortured and put to death by a new, and hitherto unheard of, and all too 
+horrible kind of punishment. And on the supposition that the 
+worshippers of the gods are rewarded by felicity in the life to come, 
+why, then, do they calumniate the influence of Christianity? why do 
+they assert that this disaster has overtaken the city because it has ceased 
+to worship its gods, since, worship them as assiduously as it may, it may 
+yet be as unfortunate as Regulus was? Or will some one carry so 
+wonderful a blindness to the extent of wildly attempting, in the face of 
+the evident truth, to contend that though one man might be unfortunate, 
+though a worshipper of the gods, yet a whole city could not be so? That 
+is to say, the power of their gods is better adapted to preserve multitudes 
+than individuals—as if a multitude were not composed of individuals. 
+But if they say that M. Regulus, even while a prisoner and enduring 
+these bodily torments, might yet enjoy the blessedness of a virtuous 
+soul,47 then let them recognise that true virtue by which a city also may 
+be blessed. For the blessedness of a community and of an individual flow 
+from the same source; for a community is nothing else than a 
+harmonious collection of individuals. So that I am not concerned 
+meantime to discuss what kind of virtue Regulus possessed: enough, that 
+by his very noble example they are forced to own that the gods are to be 
+worshipped not for the sake of bodily comforts or external advantages; 
+for he preferred to lose all such things rather than offend the gods by 
+whom he had sworn. But what can we make of men who glory in having 
+such a citizen, but dread having a city like him? If they do not dread 
+this, then let them acknowledge that some such calamity as befell 
+Regulus may also befall a community, though they be worshipping their 
+gods as diligently as he; and let them no longer throw the blame of their 
+misfortunes on Christianity. But as our present concern is with those 
+Christians who were taken prisoners, let those who take occasion from 
+this calamity to revile our most wholesome religion in a fashion not less 
+imprudent than impudent, consider this and hold their peace; for if it 
+was no reproach to their gods that a most punctilious worshipper of 
+
+
+theirs should, for the sake of keeping his oath to them, be deprived of his 
+native land without hope of finding another, and fall into the hands of 
+his enemies, and be put to death by a long-drawn and exquisite torture, 
+much less ought the Christian name to be charged with the captivity of 
+those who believe in its power, since they, in confident expectation of a 
+heavenly country, know that they are pilgrims even in their own homes. 
+
+
+16. Of the violation of the consecrated and other Christian virgins to which they were subjected in 
+captivity, and to which their own will gave no consent; and whether this contaminated their 
+
+
+souls 
+
+
+But they fancy they bring a conclusive charge against Christianity, 
+when they aggravate the horror of captivity by adding that not only 
+wives and unmarried maidens, but even consecrated virgins, were 
+violated. But truly, with respect to this, it is not Christian faith, nor 
+piety, nor even the virtue of chastity, which is hemmed into any 
+difficulty: the only difficulty is so to treat the subject as to satisfy at once 
+modesty and reason. And in discussing it we shall not be so careful to 
+reply to our accusers as to comfort our friends. Let this, therefore, in the 
+first place, be laid down as an unassailable position, that the virtue 
+which makes the life good has its throne in the soul, and thence rules the 
+members of the body, which becomes holy in virtue of the holiness of 
+the will; and that while the will remains firm and unshaken, nothing that 
+another person does with the body, or upon the body, is any fault of the 
+person who suffers it, so long as he cannot escape it without sin. But as 
+not only pain may be inflicted, but lust gratified on the body of another, 
+whenever anything of this latter kind takes place, shame invades even a 
+thoroughly pure spirit from which modesty has not departed—shame, 
+lest that act which could not be suffered without some sensual pleasure, 
+should be believed to have been committed also with some assent of the 
+will. 
+
+
+17. Of suicide committed through fear of punishment or dishonour 
+
+
+And consequently, even if some of these virgins killed themselves to 
+avoid such disgrace, who that has any human feeling would refuse to 
+forgive them? And as for those who would not put an end to their lives, 
+lest they might seem to escape the crime of another by a sin of their 
+own, he who lays this to their charge as a great wickedness is himself 
+
+
+not guiltless of the fault of folly. For if it is not lawful to take the law 
+into our own hands, and slay even a guilty person, whose death no 
+public sentence has warranted, then certainly he who kills himself is a 
+homicide, and so much the guiltier of his own death, as he was more 
+innocent of that offence for which he doomed himself to die. Do we 
+justly execrate the deed of Judas, and does truth itself pronounce that by 
+hanging himself he rather aggravated than expiated the guilt of that 
+most iniquitous betrayal, since, by despairing of God’s mercy in his 
+sorrow that wrought death, he left to himself no place for a healing 
+penitence? How much more ought he to abstain from laying violent 
+hands on himself who has done nothing worthy of such a punishment! 
+For Judas, when he killed himself, killed a wicked man; but he passed 
+from this life chargeable not only with the death of Christ, but with his 
+own: for though he killed himself on account of his crime, his killing 
+himself was another crime. Why, then, should a man who has done no ill 
+do ill to himself, and by killing himself kill the innocent to escape 
+another’s guilty act, and perpetrate upon himself a sin of his own, that 
+the sin of another may not be perpetrated on him? 
+
+
+18. Of the violence which may be done to the body by another’s lust, while the mind remains 
+
+
+inviolate 
+
+
+But is there a fear that even another’s lust may pollute the violated? It 
+will not pollute, if it be another’s: if it pollute, it is not another’s, but is 
+shared also by the polluted. But since purity is a virtue of the soul, and 
+has for its companion virtue the fortitude which will rather endure all 
+ills than consent to evil; and since no one, however magnanimous and 
+pure, has always the disposal of his own body, but can control only the 
+consent and refusal of his will, what sane man can suppose that, if his 
+body be seized and forcibly made use of to satisfy the lust of another, he 
+thereby loses his purity? For if purity can be thus destroyed, then 
+assuredly purity is no virtue of the soul; nor can it be numbered among 
+those good things by which the life is made good, but among the good 
+things of the body, in the same category as strength, beauty, sound and 
+unbroken health, and, in short, all such good things as may be 
+diminished without at all diminishing the goodness and rectitude of our 
+life. But if purity be nothing better than these, why should the body be 
+perilled that it may be preserved? If, on the other hand, it belongs to the 
+
+
+soul, then not even when the body is violated is it lost. Nay more, the 
+virtue of holy continence, when it resists the uncleanness of carnal lust, 
+sanctifies even the body, and therefore when this continence remains 
+unsubdued, even the sanctity of the body is preserved, because the will 
+to use it holily remains, and, so far as lies in the body itself, the power 
+also. 
+
+For the sanctity of the body does not consist in the integrity of its 
+members, nor in their exemption from all touch; for they are exposed to 
+various accidents which do violence to and wound them, and the 
+surgeons who administer relief often perform operations that sicken the 
+spectator. A midwife, suppose, has (whether maliciously or accidentally, 
+or through unskilfulness) destroyed the virginity of some girl, while 
+endeavouring to ascertain it: I suppose no one is so foolish as to believe 
+that, by this destruction of the integrity of one organ, the virgin has lost 
+anything even of her bodily sanctity. And thus, so long as the soul keeps 
+this firmness of purpose which sanctifies even the body, the violence 
+done by another’s lust makes no impression on this bodily sanctity, 
+which is preserved intact by one’s own persistent continence. Suppose a 
+virgin violates the oath she has sworn to God, and goes to meet her 
+seducer with the intention of yielding to him, shall we say that as she 
+goes she is possessed even of bodily sanctity, when already she has lost 
+and destroyed that sanctity of soul which sanctifies the body? Far be it 
+from us to so misapply words. Let us rather draw this conclusion, that 
+while the sanctity of the soul remains even when the body is violated, 
+the sanctity of the body is not lost; and that, in like manner, the sanctity 
+of the body is lost when the sanctity of the soul is violated, though the 
+body itself remain intact. And therefore a woman who has been violated 
+by the sin of another, and without any consent of her own, has no cause 
+to put herself to death; much less has she cause to commit suicide in 
+order to avoid such violation, for in that case she commits certain 
+homicide to prevent a crime which is uncertain as yet, and not her own. 
+
+
+19. Of Lucretia, who put an end to her life because of the outrage done her 
+
+
+This, then, is our position, and it seems sufficiently lucid. We maintain 
+that when a woman is violated while her soul admits no consent to the 
+iniquity, but remains inviolably chaste, the sin is not hers, but his who 
+violates her. But do they against whom we have to defend not only the 
+
+
+souls, but the sacred bodies too of these outraged Christian captives—do 
+they, perhaps, dare to dispute our position? But all know how loudly 
+they extol the purity of Lucretia, that noble matron of ancient Rome. 
+When King Tarquin’s son had violated her body, she made known the 
+wickedness of this young profligate to her husband Collatinus, and to 
+Brutus her kinsman, men of high rank and full of courage, and bound 
+them by an oath to avenge it. Then, heart-sick, and unable to bear the 
+shame, she put an end to her life. What shall we call her? An adulteress, 
+or chaste? There is no question which she was. Not more happily than 
+truly did a declaimer say of this sad occurrence: “Here was a marvel: 
+there were two, and only one committed adultery.” Most forcibly and 
+truly spoken. For this declaimer, seeing in the union of the two bodies 
+the foul lust of the one, and the chaste will of the other, and giving heed 
+not to the contact of the bodily members, but to the wide diversity of 
+their souls, says: “There were two, but the adultery was committed only 
+by one.” 
+
+But how is it, that she who was no partner to the crime bears the 
+heavier punishment of the two? For the adulterer was only banished 
+along with his father; she suffered the extreme penalty. If that was not 
+impurity by which she was unwillingly ravished, then this is not justice 
+by which she, being chaste, is punished. To you I appeal, ye laws and 
+judges of Rome. Even after the perpetration of great enormities, you do 
+not suffer the criminal to be slain untried. If, then, one were to bring to 
+your bar this case, and were to prove to you that a woman not only 
+untried, but chaste and innocent, had been killed, would you not visit 
+the murderer with punishment proportionably severe? This crime was 
+committed by Lucretia; that Lucretia so celebrated and lauded slew the 
+innocent, chaste, outraged Lucretia. Pronounce sentence. But if you 
+cannot, because there does not compear any one whom you can punish, 
+why do you extol with such unmeasured laudation her who slew an 
+innocent and chaste woman? Assuredly you will find it impossible to 
+defend her before the judges of the realms below, if they be such as your 
+poets are fond of representing them; for she is among those 
+
+
+“Who guiltless sent themselves to doom, 
+And all for loathing of the day, 
+
+
+In madness threw their lives away.” 
+
+
+And if she with the others wishes to return, 
+
+
+“Fate bars the way: around their keep 
+The slow unlovely waters creep, 
+And bind with ninefold chain.”48 
+
+
+Or perhaps she is not there, because she slew herself conscious of guilt, 
+not of innocence? She herself alone knows her reason; but what if she 
+was betrayed by the pleasure of the act, and gave some consent to 
+Sextus, though so violently abusing her, and then was so affected with 
+remorse, that she thought death alone could expiate her sin? Even 
+though this were the case, she ought still to have held her hand from 
+suicide, if she could with her false gods have accomplished a fruitful 
+repentance. However, if such were the state of the case, and if it were 
+false that there were two, but one only committed adultery; if the truth 
+were that both were involved in it, one by open assault, the other by 
+secret consent, then she did not kill an innocent woman; and therefore 
+her erudite defenders may maintain that she is not among that class of 
+the dwellers below “who guiltless sent themselves to doom.” But this 
+case of Lucretia is in such a dilemma, that if you extenuate the homicide, 
+you confirm the adultery: if you acquit her of adultery, you make the 
+charge of homicide heavier; and there is no way out of the dilemma, 
+when one asks, If she was adulterous, why praise her? if chaste, why slay 
+her? 
+
+Nevertheless, for our purpose of refuting those who are unable to 
+comprehend what true sanctity is, and who therefore insult over our 
+outraged Christian women, it is enough that in the instance of this noble 
+Roman matron it was said in her praise, “There were two, but the 
+adultery was the crime of only one.” For Lucretia was confidently 
+believed to be superior to the contamination of any consenting thought 
+to the adultery. And accordingly, since she killed herself for being 
+subjected to an outrage in which she had no guilty part, it is obvious 
+that this act of hers was prompted not by the love of purity, but by the 
+overwhelming burden of her shame. She was ashamed that so foul a 
+crime had been perpetrated upon her, though without her abetting; and 
+this matron, with the Roman love of glory in her veins, was seized with 
+a proud dread that, if she continued to live, it would be supposed she 
+
+
+willingly did not resent the wrong that had been done her. She could not 
+exhibit to men her conscience, but she judged that her self-inflicted 
+punishment would testify her state of mind; and she burned with shame 
+at the thought that her patient endurance of the foul affront that another 
+had done her, should be construed into complicity with him. Not such 
+was the decision of the Christian women who suffered as she did, and 
+yet survive. They declined to avenge upon themselves the guilt of others, 
+and so add crimes of their own to those crimes in which they had no 
+share. For this they would have done had their shame driven them to 
+homicide, as the lust of their enemies had driven them to adultery. 
+Within their own souls, in the witness of their own conscience, they 
+enjoy the glory of chastity. In the sight of God, too, they are esteemed 
+pure, and this contents them; they ask no more: it suffices them to have 
+opportunity of doing good, and they decline to evade the distress of 
+human suspicion, lest they thereby deviate from the divine law. 
+
+
+20. That Christians have no authority for committing suicide in any circumstances whatever 
+
+
+It is not without significance, that in no passage of the holy canonical 
+books there can be found either divine precept or permission to take 
+away our own life, whether for the sake of entering on the enjoyment of 
+immortality, or of shunning, or ridding ourselves of anything whatever. 
+Nay, the law, rightly interpreted, even prohibits suicide, where it says, 
+“Thou shalt not kill.” This is proved specially by the omission of the 
+words “thy neighbour,” which are inserted when false witness is 
+forbidden: “Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour.” 
+Nor yet should any one on this account suppose he has not broken this 
+commandment if he has borne false witness only against himself. For the 
+love of our neighbour is regulated by the love of ourselves, as it is 
+written, “Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.” If, then, he who 
+makes false statements about himself is not less guilty of bearing false 
+witness than if he had made them to the injury of his neighbour; 
+although in the commandment prohibiting false witness only his 
+neighbour is mentioned, and persons taking no pains to understand it 
+might suppose that a man was allowed to be a false witness to his own 
+hurt; how much greater reason have we to understand that a man may 
+not kill himself, since in the commandment, “Thou shalt not kill,” there 
+is no limitation added nor any exception made in favour of any one, and 
+
+
+least of all in favour of him on whom the command is laid! And so some 
+attempt to extend this command even to beasts and cattle, as if it 
+forbade us to take life from any creature. But if so, why not extend it 
+also to the plants, and all that is rooted in and nourished by the earth? 
+For though this class of creatures have no sensation, yet they also are 
+said to live, and consequently they can die; and therefore, if violence be 
+done them, can be killed. So, too, the apostle, when speaking of the 
+seeds of such things as these, says, “That which thou sowest is not 
+quickened except it die;” and in the Psalm it is said, “He killed their 
+vines with hail.” Must we therefore reckon it a breaking of this 
+commandment, “Thou shalt not kill,” to pull a flower? Are we thus 
+insanely to countenance the foolish error of the Manichezans? Putting 
+aside, then, these ravings, if, when we say, Thou shalt not kill, we do not 
+understand this of the plants, since they have no sensation, nor of the 
+irrational animals that fly, swim, walk, or creep, since they are 
+dissociated from us by their want of reason, and are therefore by the just 
+appointment of the Creator subjected to us to kill or keep alive for our 
+own uses; if so, then it remains that we understand that commandment 
+simply of man. The commandment is, “Thou shalt not kill man;” 
+therefore neither another nor yourself, for he who kills himself still kills 
+nothing else than man. 
+
+
+21. Of the cases in which we may put men to death without incurring the guilt of murder 
+
+
+However, there are some exceptions made by the divine authority to 
+its own law, that men may not be put to death. These exceptions are of 
+two kinds, being justified either by a general law, or by a special 
+commission granted for a time to some individual. And in this latter 
+case, he to whom authority is delegated, and who is but the sword in the 
+hand of him who uses it, is not himself responsible for the death he 
+deals. And, accordingly, they who have waged war in obedience to the 
+divine command, or in conformity with His laws have represented in 
+their persons the public justice or the wisdom of government, and in this 
+capacity have put to death wicked men; such persons have by no means 
+violated the commandment, “Thou shalt not kill.” Abraham indeed was 
+not merely deemed guiltless of cruelty, but was even applauded for his 
+piety, because he was ready to slay his son in obedience to God, not to 
+his own passion. And it is reasonably enough made a question, whether 
+
+
+we are to esteem it to have been in compliance with a command of God 
+that Jephthah killed his daughter, because she met him when he had 
+vowed that he would sacrifice to God whatever first met him as he 
+returned victorious from battle. Samson, too, who drew down the house 
+on himself and his foes together, is justified only on this ground, that the 
+Spirit who wrought wonders by him had given him secret instructions to 
+do this. With the exception, then, of these two classes of cases, which are 
+justified either by a just law that applies generally, or by a special 
+intimation from God Himself, the fountain of all justice, whoever kills a 
+man, either himself or another, is implicated in the guilt of murder. 
+
+
+22. That suicide can never be prompted by magnanimity 
+
+
+But they who have laid violent hands on themselves are perhaps to be 
+admired for their greatness of soul, though they cannot be applauded for 
+the soundness of their judgment. However, if you look at the matter 
+more closely, you will scarcely call it greatness of soul, which prompts a 
+man to kill himself rather than bear up against some hardships of 
+fortune, or sins in which he is not implicated. Is it not rather proof of a 
+feeble mind, to be unable to bear either the pains of bodily servitude or 
+the foolish opinion of the vulgar? And is not that to be pronounced the 
+greater mind, which rather faces than flees the ills of life, and which, in 
+comparison of the light and purity of conscience, holds in small esteem 
+the judgment of men, and specially of the vulgar, which is frequently 
+involved in a mist of error? And, therefore, if suicide is to be esteemed a 
+magnanimous act, none can take higher rank for magnanimity than that 
+Cleombrotus, who (as the story goes), when he had read Plato’s book in 
+which he treats of the immortality of the soul, threw himself from a 
+wall, and so passed from this life to that which he believed to be better. 
+For he was not hard pressed by calamity, nor by any accusation, false or 
+true, which he could not very well have lived down: there was, in short, 
+no motive but only magnanimity urging him to seek death, and break 
+away from the sweet detention of this life. And yet that this was a 
+magnanimous rather than a justifiable action, Plato himself, whom he 
+had read, would have told him; for he would certainly have been 
+forward to commit, or at least to recommend suicide, had not the same 
+bright intellect which saw that the soul was immortal, discerned also 
+that to seek immortality by suicide was to be prohibited rather than 
+
+
+encouraged. 
+
+Again, it is said many have killed themselves to prevent an enemy 
+doing so. But we are not inquiring whether it has been done, but 
+whether it ought to have been done. Sound judgment is to be preferred 
+even to examples, and indeed examples harmonize with the voice of 
+reason; but not all examples, but those only which are distinguished by 
+their piety, and are proportionately worthy of imitation. For suicide we 
+cannot cite the example of patriarchs, prophets, or apostles; though our 
+Lord Jesus Christ, when He admonished them to flee from city to city if 
+they were persecuted, might very well have taken that occasion to 
+advise them to lay violent hands on themselves, and so escape their 
+persecutors. But seeing He did not do this, nor proposed this mode of 
+departing this life, though He were addressing His own friends for whom 
+He had promised to prepare everlasting mansions, it is obvious that such 
+examples as are produced from the “nations that forget God,” give no 
+warrant of imitation to the worshippers of the one true God. 
+
+
+23. What we are to think of the example of Cato, who slew himself because unable to endure 
+
+
+Cesar’s victory. 
+
+
+Besides Lucretia, of whom enough has already been said, our 
+advocates of suicide have some difficulty in finding any other 
+prescriptive example unless it be that of Cato, who killed himself at 
+Utica. His example is appealed to, not because he was the only man who 
+did so, but because he was so esteemed as a learned and excellent man, 
+that it could plausibly be maintained that what he did was and is a good 
+thing to do. But of this action of his, what can I say but that his own 
+friends, enlightened men as he, prudently dissuaded him, and therefore 
+judged his act to be that of a feeble rather than a strong spirit, and 
+dictated not by honourable feeling forestalling shame, but by weakness 
+shrinking from hardships? Indeed, Cato condemns himself by the advice 
+he gave to his dearly loved son. For if it was a disgrace to live under 
+Ceesar’s rule, why did the father urge the son to this disgrace, by 
+encouraging him to trust absolutely to Cesar’s generosity? Why did he 
+not persuade him to die along with himself? If Torquatus was applauded 
+for putting his son to death, when contrary to orders he had engaged, 
+and engaged successfully, with the enemy, why did conquered Cato 
+spare his conquered son, though he did not spare himself? Was it more 
+
+
+disgraceful to be a victor contrary to orders, than to submit to a victor 
+contrary to the received ideas of honour? Cato, then, cannot have 
+deemed it to be shameful to live under Cesar’s rule; for had he done so, 
+the father’s sword would have delivered his son from this disgrace. The 
+truth is, that his son, who he both hoped and desired would be spared by 
+Cæsar, was not more loved by him than Cesar was envied the glory of 
+pardoning him (as indeed Cesar himself is reported to have said‘); or if 
+envy is too strong a word, let us say he was ashamed that this glory 
+should be his. 
+
+
+24. That in that virtue in which Regulus excels Cato, Christians are pre-eminently distinguished 
+
+
+Our opponents are offended at our preferring to Cato the saintly Job, 
+who endured dreadful evils in his body rather than deliver himself from 
+all torment by self-inflicted death; or other saints, of whom it is recorded 
+in our authoritative and trustworthy books that they bore captivity and 
+the oppression of their enemies rather than commit suicide. But their 
+own books authorize us to prefer to Marcus Cato, Marcus Regulus. For 
+Cato had never conquered Cesar; and when conquered by him, 
+disdained to submit himself to him, and that he might escape this 
+submission put himself to death. Regulus, on the contrary, had formerly 
+conquered the Carthaginians, and in command of the army of Rome had 
+won for the Roman republic a victory which no citizen could bewail, and 
+which the enemy himself was constrained to admire; yet afterwards, 
+when he in his turn was defeated by them, he preferred to be their 
+captive rather than to put himself beyond their reach by suicide. Patient 
+under the domination of the Carthaginians, and constant in his love of 
+the Romans, he neither deprived the one of his conquered body nor the 
+other of his unconquered spirit. Neither was it love of life that prevented 
+him from killing himself. This was plainly enough indicated by his 
+unhesitatingly returning, on account of his promise and oath, to the 
+same enemies whom he had more grievously provoked by his words in 
+the senate than even by his arms in battle. Having such a contempt of 
+life, and preferring to end it by whatever torments excited enemies 
+might contrive, rather than terminate it by his own hand, he could not 
+more distinctly have declared how great a crime he judged suicide to be. 
+Among all their famous and remarkable citizens, the Romans have no 
+better man to boast of than this, who was neither corrupted by 
+
+
+prosperity, for he remained a very poor man after winning such 
+victories; nor broken by adversity, for he returned intrepidly to the most 
+miserable end. But if the bravest and most renowned heroes, who had 
+but an earthly country to defend, and who, though they had but false 
+gods, yet rendered them a true worship, and carefully kept their oath to 
+them; if these men, who by the custom and right of war put conquered 
+enemies to the sword, yet shrank from putting an end to their own lives 
+even when conquered by their enemies; if, though they had no fear at all 
+of death, they would yet rather suffer slavery than commit suicide, how 
+much rather must Christians, the worshippers of the true God, the 
+aspirants to a heavenly citizenship, shrink from this act, if in God’s 
+providence they have been for a season delivered into the hands of their 
+enemies to prove or to correct them! And, certainly, Christians subjected 
+to this humiliating condition will not be deserted by the Most High, who 
+for their sakes humbled Himself. Neither should they forget that they are 
+bound by no laws of war, nor military orders, to put even a conquered 
+enemy to the sword; and if a man may not put to death the enemy who 
+has sinned, or may yet sin against him, who is so infatuated as to 
+maintain that he may kill himself because an enemy has sinned, or is 
+going to sin, against him? 
+
+
+25. That we should not endeavour by sin to obviate sin 
+
+
+But, we are told, there is ground to fear that, when the body is 
+subjected to the enemy’s lust, the insidious pleasure of sense may entice 
+the soul to consent to the sin, and steps must be taken to prevent so 
+disastrous a result. And is not suicide the proper mode of preventing not 
+only the enemy’s sin, but the sin of the Christian so allured? Now, in the 
+first place, the soul which is led by God and His wisdom, rather than by 
+bodily concupiscence, will certainly never consent to the desire aroused 
+in its own flesh by another’s lust. And, at all events, if it be true, as the 
+truth plainly declares, that suicide is a detestable and damnable 
+wickedness, who is such a fool as to say, Let us sin now, that we may 
+obviate a possible future sin; let us now commit murder, lest we perhaps 
+afterwards should commit adultery? If we are so controlled by iniquity 
+that innocence is out of the question, and we can at best but make a 
+choice of sins, is not a future and uncertain adultery preferable to a 
+present and certain murder? Is it not better to commit a wickedness 
+
+
+which penitence may heal, than a crime which leaves no place for 
+healing contrition? I say this for the sake of those men or women who 
+fear they may be enticed into consenting to their violator’s lust, and 
+think they should lay violent hands on themselves, and so prevent, not 
+another’s sin, but their own. But far be it from the mind of a Christian 
+confiding in God, and resting in the hope of His aid; far be it, I say, from 
+such a mind to yield a shameful consent to pleasures of the flesh, 
+howsoever presented. And if that lustful disobedience, which still dwells 
+in our mortal members, follows its own law irrespective of our will, 
+surely its motions in the body of one who rebels against them are as 
+blameless as its motions in the body of one who sleeps. 
+
+
+26. That in certain peculiar cases the examples of the saints are not to be followed 
+
+
+But, they say, in the time of persecution some holy women escaped 
+those who menaced them with outrage, by casting themselves into rivers 
+which they knew would drown them; and having died in this manner, 
+they are venerated in the church catholic as martyrs. Of such persons I 
+do not presume to speak rashly. I cannot tell whether there may not 
+have been vouchsafed to the church some divine authority, proved by 
+trustworthy evidences, for so honouring their memory: it may be that it 
+is so. It may be they were not deceived by human judgment, but 
+prompted by divine wisdom, to their act of self-destruction. We know 
+that this was the case with Samson. And when God enjoins any act, and 
+intimates by plain evidence that He has enjoined it, who will call 
+obedience criminal? Who will accuse so religious a submission? But then 
+every man is not justified in sacrificing his son to God, because Abraham 
+was commendable in so doing. The soldier who has slain a man in 
+obedience to the authority under which he is lawfully commissioned, is 
+not accused of murder by any law of his state; nay, if he has not slain 
+him, it is then he is accused of treason to the state, and of despising the 
+law. But if he has been acting on his own authority, and at his own 
+impulse, he has in this case incurred the crime of shedding human blood. 
+And thus he is punished for doing without orders the very thing he is 
+punished for neglecting to do when he has been ordered. If the 
+commands of a general make so great a difference, shall the commands 
+of God make none? He, then, who knows it is unlawful to kill himself, 
+may nevertheless do so if he is ordered by Him whose commands we 
+
+
+may not neglect. Only let him be very sure that the divine command has 
+been signified. As for us, we can become privy to the secrets of 
+conscience only in so far as these are disclosed to us, and so far only do 
+we judge: “No one knoweth the things of a man, save the spirit of man 
+which is in him.”5° But this we affirm, this we maintain, this we every 
+way pronounce to be right, that no man ought to inflict on himself 
+voluntary death, for this is to escape the ills of time by plunging into 
+those of eternity; that no man ought to do so on account of another 
+man’s sins, for this were to escape a guilt which could not pollute him, 
+by incurring great guilt of his own; that no man ought to do so on 
+account of his own past sins, for he has all the more need of this life that 
+these sins may be healed by repentance; that no man should put an end 
+to this life to obtain that better life we look for after death, for those 
+who die by their own hand have no better life after death. 
+
+
+27. Whether voluntary death should be sought in order to avoid sin 
+
+
+There remains one reason for suicide which I mentioned before, and 
+which is thought a sound one—namely, to prevent one’s falling into sin 
+either through the blandishments of pleasure or the violence of pain. If 
+this reason were a good one, then we should be impelled to exhort men 
+at once to destroy themselves, as soon as they have been washed in the 
+laver of regeneration, and have received the forgiveness of all sin. Then 
+is the time to escape all future sin, when all past sin is blotted out. And if 
+this escape be lawfully secured by suicide, why not then specially? Why 
+does any baptized person hold his hand from taking his own life? Why 
+does any person who is freed from the hazards of this life again expose 
+himself to them, when he has power so easily to rid himself of them all, 
+and when it is written, “He who loveth danger shall fall into it?”5!1 Why 
+does he love, or at least face, so many serious dangers, by remaining in 
+this life from which he may legitimately depart? But is any one so 
+blinded and twisted in his moral nature, and so far astray from the truth, 
+as to think that, though a man ought to make away with himself for fear 
+of being led into sin by the oppression of one man, his master, he ought 
+yet to live, and so expose himself to the hourly temptations of this 
+world, both to all those evils which the oppression of one master 
+involves, and to numberless other miseries in which this life inevitably 
+implicates us? What reason, then, is there for our consuming time in 
+
+
+those exhortations by which we seek to animate the baptized, either to 
+virginal chastity, or vidual continence, or matrimonial fidelity, when we 
+have so much more simple and compendious a method of deliverance 
+from sin, by persuading those who are fresh from baptism to put an end 
+to their lives, and so pass to their Lord pure and well-conditioned? If any 
+one thinks that such persuasion should be attempted, I say not he is 
+foolish, but mad. With what face, then, can he say to any man, “Kill 
+yourself, lest to your small sins you add a heinous sin, while you live 
+under an unchaste master, whose conduct is that of a barbarian?” How 
+can he say this, if he cannot without wickedness say, “Kill yourself, now 
+that you are washed from all your sins, lest you fall again into similar or 
+even aggravated sins, while you live in a world which has such power to 
+allure by its unclean pleasures, to torment by its horrible cruelties, to 
+overcome by its errors and terrors?” It is wicked to say this; it is 
+therefore wicked to kill oneself. For if there could be any just cause of 
+suicide, this were so. And since not even this is so, there is none. 
+
+
+28. By what judgment of God the enemy was permitted to indulge his lust on the bodies of 
+continent Christians 
+
+
+Let not your life, then, be a burden to you, ye faithful servants of 
+Christ, though your chastity was made the sport of your enemies. You 
+have a grand and true consolation, if you maintain a good conscience, 
+and know that you did not consent to the sins of those who were 
+permitted to commit sinful outrage upon you. And if you should ask why 
+this permission was granted, indeed it is a deep providence of the 
+Creator and Governor of the world; and “unsearchable are His 
+judgments, and His ways past finding out.”52 Nevertheless, faithfully 
+interrogate your own souls, whether ye have not been unduly puffed up 
+by your integrity, and continence, and chastity; and whether ye have not 
+been so desirous of the human praise that is accorded to these virtues, 
+that ye have envied some who possessed them. I, for my part, do not 
+know your hearts, and therefore I make no accusation; I do not even 
+hear what your hearts answer when you question them. And yet, if they 
+answer that it is as I have supposed it might be, do not marvel that you 
+have lost that by which you can win men’s praise, and retain that which 
+cannot be exhibited to men. If you did not consent to sin, it was because 
+God added His aid to His grace that it might not be lost, and because 
+
+
+shame before men succeeded to human glory that it might not be loved. 
+But in both respects even the fainthearted among you have a 
+consolation, approved by the one experience, chastened by the other; 
+justified by the one, corrected by the other. As to those whose hearts, 
+when interrogated, reply that they have never been proud of the virtue 
+of virginity, widowhood, or matrimonial chastity, but, condescending to 
+those of low estate, rejoiced with trembling in these gifts of God, and 
+that they have never envied any one the like excellences of sanctity and 
+purity, but rose superior to human applause, which is wont to be 
+abundant in proportion to the rarity of the virtue applauded, and rather 
+desired that their own number be increased, than that by the smallness 
+of their numbers each of them should be conspicuous;—even such 
+faithful women, I say, must not complain that permission was given to 
+the barbarians so grossly to outrage them; nor must they allow 
+themselves to believe that God overlooked their character when He 
+permitted acts which no one with impunity commits. For some most 
+flagrant and wicked desires are allowed free play at present by the secret 
+judgment of God, and are reserved to the public and final judgment. 
+Moreover, it is possible that those Christian women, who are 
+unconscious of any undue pride on account of their virtuous chastity, 
+whereby they sinlessly suffered the violence of their captors, had yet 
+some lurking infirmity which might have betrayed them into a proud 
+and contemptuous bearing, had they not been subjected to the 
+humiliation that befell them in the taking of the city. As, therefore, some 
+men were removed by death, that no wickedness might change their 
+disposition, so these women were outraged lest prosperity should 
+corrupt their modesty. Neither those women, then, who were already 
+puffed up by the circumstance that they were still virgins, nor those who 
+might have been so puffed up had they not been exposed to the violence 
+of the enemy, lost their chastity, but rather gained humility: the former 
+were saved from pride already cherished, the latter from pride that 
+would shortly have grown upon them. 
+
+We must further notice that some of those sufferers may have 
+conceived that continence is a bodily good, and abides so long as the 
+body is inviolate, and did not understand that the purity both of the 
+body and the soul rests on the stedfastness of the will strengthened by 
+God’s grace, and cannot be forcibly taken from an unwilling person. 
+
+
+From this error they are probably now delivered. For when they reflect 
+how conscientiously they served God, and when they settle again to the 
+firm persuasion that He can in nowise desert those who so serve Him, 
+and so invoke His aid; and when they consider, what they cannot doubt, 
+how pleasing to Him is chastity, they are shut up to the conclusion that 
+He could never have permitted these disasters to befall His saints, if by 
+them that saintliness could be destroyed which He Himself had bestowed 
+upon them, and delights to see in them. 
+
+
+29. What the servants of Christ should say in reply to the unbelievers who cast in their teeth that 
+Christ did not rescue them from the fury of their enemies 
+
+
+The whole family of God, most high and most true, has therefore a 
+consolation of its own—a consolation which cannot deceive, and which 
+has in it a surer hope than the tottering and falling affairs of earth can 
+afford. They will not refuse the discipline of this temporal life, in which 
+they are schooled for life eternal; nor will they lament their experience 
+of it, for the good things of earth they use as pilgrims who are not 
+detained by them, and its ills either prove or improve them. As for those 
+who insult over them in their trials, and when ills befall them say, 
+“Where is thy God?”53 we may ask them where their gods are when they 
+suffer the very calamities for the sake of avoiding which they worship 
+their gods, or maintain they ought to be worshipped; for the family of 
+Christ is furnished with its reply: our God is everywhere present, wholly 
+everywhere; not confined to any place. He can be present unperceived, 
+and be absent without moving; when He exposes us to adversities, it is 
+either to prove our perfections or correct our imperfections; and in 
+return for our patient endurance of the sufferings of time, He reserves 
+for us an everlasting reward. But who are you, that we should deign to 
+speak with you even about your own gods, much less about our God, 
+who is “to be feared above all gods? For all the gods of the nations are 
+idols; but the Lord made the heavens.”54 
+
+
+30. That those who complain of Christianity really desire to live without restraint in shameful 
+luxury 
+
+
+If the famous Scipio Nasica were now alive, who was once your 
+pontiff, and was unanimously chosen by the senate, when, in the panic 
+created by the Punic war, they sought for the best citizen to entertain 
+
+
+the Phrygian goddess, he would curb this shamelessness of yours, though 
+you would perhaps scarcely dare to look upon the countenance of such a 
+man. For why in your calamities do you complain of Christianity, unless 
+because you desire to enjoy your luxurious licence unrestrained, and to 
+lead an abandoned and profligate life without the interruption of any 
+uneasiness or disaster? For certainly your desire for peace, and 
+prosperity, and plenty is not prompted by any purpose of using these 
+blessings honestly, that is to say, with moderation, sobriety, temperance, 
+and piety; for your purpose rather is to run riot in an endless variety of 
+sottish pleasures, and thus to generate front your prosperity a moral 
+pestilence which will prove a thousandfold more disastrous than the 
+fiercest enemies. It was such a calamity as this that Scipio, your chief 
+pontiff, your best man in the judgment of the whole senate, feared when 
+he refused to agree to the destruction of Carthage, Rome’s rival; and 
+opposed Cato, who advised its destruction. He feared security, that 
+enemy of weak minds, and he perceived that a wholesome fear would be 
+a fit guardian for the citizens. And he was not mistaken: the event 
+proved how wisely he had spoken. For when Carthage was destroyed, 
+and the Roman republic delivered from its great cause of anxiety, a 
+crowd of disastrous evils forthwith resulted from the prosperous 
+condition of things. First concord was weakened, and destroyed by fierce 
+and bloody seditions; then followed, by a concatenation of baleful 
+causes, civil wars, which brought in their train such massacres, such 
+bloodshed, such lawless and cruel proscription and plunder, that those 
+Romans who, in the days of their virtue, had expected injury only at the 
+hands of their enemies, now that their virtue was lost, suffered greater 
+cruelties at the hands of their fellow-citizens. The lust of rule, which 
+with other vices existed among the Romans in more unmitigated 
+intensity than among any other people, after it had taken possession of 
+the more powerful few, subdued under its yoke the rest, worn and 
+wearied. 
+
+
+31. By what steps the passion for governing increased among the Romans 
+
+
+For at what stage would that passion rest when once it has lodged in a 
+proud spirit, until by a succession of advances it has reached even the 
+throne? And to obtain such advances nothing avails but unscrupulous 
+ambition. But unscrupulous ambition has nothing to work upon, save in 
+
+
+a nation corrupted by avarice and luxury. Moreover, a people becomes 
+avaricious and luxurious by prosperity; and it was this which that very 
+prudent man Nasica was endeavouring to avoid when he opposed the 
+destruction of the greatest, strongest, wealthiest city of Rome’s enemy. 
+He thought that thus fear would act as a curb on lust, and that lust being 
+curbed would not run riot in luxury, and that luxury being prevented 
+avarice would be at an end; and that these vices being banished, virtue 
+would flourish and increase, to the great profit of the state; and liberty, 
+the fit companion of virtue, would abide unfettered. For similar reasons, 
+and animated by the same considerate patriotism, that same chief pontiff 
+of yours—I still refer to him who was adjudged Rome’s best man without 
+one dissentient voice—threw cold water on the proposal of the senate to 
+build a circle of seats round the theatre, and in a very weighty speech 
+warned them against allowing the luxurious manners of Greece to sap 
+the Roman manliness, and persuaded them not to yield to the enervating 
+and emasculating influence of foreign licentiousness. So authoritative 
+and forcible were his words, that the senate was moved to prohibit the 
+use even of those benches which hitherto had been customarily brought 
+to the theatre for the temporary use of the citizens.55 How eagerly would 
+such a man as this have banished from Rome the scenic exhibitions 
+themselves, had he dared to oppose the authority of those whom he 
+supposed to be gods! For he did not know that they were malicious 
+devils; or if he did, he supposed they should rather be propitiated than 
+despised. For there had not yet been revealed to the Gentiles the 
+heavenly doctrine which should purify their hearts by faith, and 
+transform their natural disposition by humble godliness, and turn them 
+from the service of proud devils to seek the things that are in heaven, or 
+even above the heavens. 
+
+
+32. Of the establishment of scenic entertainments 
+
+
+Know then, ye who are ignorant of this, and ye who feign ignorance 
+be reminded, while you murmur against Him who has freed you from 
+such rulers, that the scenic games, exhibitions of shameless folly and 
+licence, were established at Rome, not by men’s vicious cravings, but by 
+the appointment of your gods. Much more pardonably might you have 
+rendered divine honours to Scipio than to such gods as these. The gods 
+were not so moral as their pontiff. But give me now your attention, if 
+
+
+your mind, inebriated by its deep potations of error, can take in any 
+sober truth. The gods enjoined that games be exhibited in their honour 
+to stay a physical pestilence; their pontiff prohibited the theatre from 
+being constructed, to prevent a moral pestilence. If, then, there remains 
+in you sufficient mental enlightenment to prefer the soul to the body, 
+choose whom you will worship. Besides, though the pestilence was 
+stayed, this was not because the voluptuous madness of stage-plays had 
+taken possession of a warlike people hitherto accustomed only to the 
+games of the circus; but these astute and wicked spirits, foreseeing that 
+in due course the pestilence would shortly cease, took occasion to infect, 
+not the bodies, but the morals of their worshippers, with a far more 
+serious disease. And in this pestilence these gods find great enjoyment, 
+because it benighted the minds of men with so gross a darkness, and 
+dishonoured them with so foul a deformity, that even quite recently (will 
+posterity be able to credit it?) some of those who fled from the sack of 
+Rome and found refuge in Carthage, were so infected with this disease, 
+that day after day they seemed to contend with one another who should 
+most madly run after the actors in the theatres. 
+
+
+33. That the overthrow of Rome has not corrected the vices of the Romans 
+
+
+O infatuated men, what is this blindness, or rather madness, which 
+possesses you? How is it that while, as we hear, even the eastern nations 
+are bewailing your ruin, and while powerful states in the most remote 
+parts of the earth are mourning your fall as a public calamity, ye 
+yourselves should be crowding to the theatres, should be pouring into 
+them and filling them; and, in short, be playing a madder part now than 
+ever before? This was the foul plague-spot, this the wreck of virtue and 
+honour that Scipio sought to preserve you from when he prohibited the 
+construction of theatres; this was his reason for desiring that you might 
+still have an enemy to fear, seeing as he did how easily prosperity would 
+corrupt and destroy you. He did not consider that republic flourishing 
+whose walls stand, but whose morals are in ruins. But the seductions of 
+evil-minded devils had more influence with you than the precautions of 
+prudent men. Hence the injuries you do, you will not permit to be 
+imputed to you; but the injuries you suffer, you impute to Christianity. 
+Depraved by good fortune, and not chastened by adversity, what you 
+desire in the restoration of a peaceful and secure state, is not the 
+
+
+tranquillity of the commonwealth, but the impunity of your own vicious 
+luxury. Scipio wished you to be hard pressed by an enemy, that you 
+might not abandon yourselves to luxurious manners; but so abandoned 
+are you, that not even when crushed by the enemy is your luxury 
+repressed. You have missed the profit of your calamity; you have been 
+made most wretched, and have remained most profligate. 
+
+
+34. Of God’s clemency in moderating the ruin of the city 
+
+
+And that you are yet alive is due to God, who spares you that you may 
+be admonished to repent and reform your lives. It is He who has 
+permitted you, ungrateful as you are, to escape the sword of the enemy, 
+by calling yourselves His servants, or by finding asylum in the sacred 
+places of the martyrs. 
+
+It is said that Romulus and Remus, in order to increase the population 
+of the city they founded, opened a sanctuary in which every man might 
+find asylum and absolution of all crime—a remarkable foreshadowing of 
+what has recently occurred in honour of Christ. The destroyers of Rome 
+followed the example of its founders. But it was not greatly to their 
+credit that the latter, for the sake of increasing the number of their 
+citizens, did that which the former have done, lest the number of their 
+enemies should be diminished. 
+
+
+35. Of the sons of the church who are hidden among the wicked, and of false Christians within 
+the church 
+
+
+Let these and similar answers (if any fuller and fitter answers can be 
+found) be given to their enemies by the redeemed family of the Lord 
+Christ, and by the pilgrim city of King Christ. But let this city bear in 
+mind, that among her enemies lie hid those who are destined to be 
+fellow-citizens, that she may not think it a fruitless labour to bear what 
+they inflict as enemies until they become confessors of the faith. So, too, 
+as long as she is a stranger in the world, the city of God has in her 
+communion, and bound to her by the sacraments, some who shall not 
+eternally dwell in the lot of the saints. Of these, some are not now 
+recognised; others declare themselves, and do not hesitate to make 
+common cause with our enemies in murmuring against God, whose 
+sacramental badge they wear. These men you may to-day see thronging 
+the churches with us, to-morrow crowding the theatres with the godless. 
+
+
+But we have the less reason to despair of the reclamation even of such 
+persons, if among our most declared enemies there are now some, 
+unknown to themselves, who are destined to become our friends. In 
+truth, these two cities are entangled together in this world, and 
+intermixed until the last judgment effect their separation. I now proceed 
+to speak, as God shall help me, of the rise, progress, and end of these 
+two cities; and what I write, I write for the glory of the city of God, that, 
+being placed in comparison with the other, it may shine with a brighter 
+lustre. 
+
+
+36. What subjects are to be handled in the following discourse 
+
+
+But I have still some things to say in confutation of those who refer 
+the disasters of the Roman republic to our religion, because it prohibits 
+the offering of sacrifices to the gods. For this end I must recount all, or 
+as many as may seem sufficient, of the disasters which befell that city 
+and its subject provinces, before these sacrifices were prohibited; for all 
+these disasters they would doubtless have attributed to us, if at that time 
+our religion had shed its light upon them, and had prohibited their 
+sacrifices. I must then go on to show what social well-being the true 
+God, in whose hand are all kingdoms, vouchsafed to grant to them that 
+their empire might increase. I must show why He did so, and how their 
+false gods, instead of at all aiding them, greatly injured them by guile 
+and deceit. And, lastly, I must meet those who, when on this point 
+convinced and confuted by irrefragable proofs, endeavour to maintain 
+that they worship the gods, not hoping for the present advantages of this 
+life, but for those which are to be enjoyed after death. And this, if I am 
+not mistaken, will be the most difficult part of my task, and will be 
+worthy of the loftiest argument; for we must then enter the lists with the 
+philosophers, not the mere common herd of philosophers, but the most 
+renowned, who in many points agree with ourselves, as regarding the 
+immortality of the soul, and that the true God created the world, and by 
+His providence rules all He has created. But as they differ from us on 
+other points, we must not shrink from the task of exposing their errors, 
+that, having refuted the gainsaying of the wicked with such ability as 
+God may vouchsafe, we may assert the city of God, and true piety, and 
+the worship of God, to which alone the promise of true and everlasting 
+felicity is attached. Here, then, let us conclude, that we may enter on 
+
+
+these subjects in a fresh book. 
+
+1 Ps. xciv. 15, rendered otherwise in Eng. ver. 
+
+2 Jas. iv. 6 and 1 Pet. v. 5. 
+
+3 Virgil, Aneid, vi. 854. 
+
+4 The Benedictines remind us that Alexander and Xenophon, at least on some occasions, did so. 
+° Virgil, AEneid, ii. 501-2. The renderings of Virgil are from Coningtos. 
+
+6 Ibid. ii. 166. 
+
+7 Ibid. 
+
+8 Horace, Ep. I. ii. 69. 
+
+9 Aineid, i. 71. 
+
+10 Ibid. ii. 319. 
+
+11 Ibid. 293. 
+
+12 Non numina bona, sed omina mala. 
+
+13 Virgil, Aineid, ii. 761. 
+
+14 Though “levis” was the word usually employed to signify the inconstancy of the Greeks, it is 
+
+
+evidently here used, in opposition to “immanis” of the following clause, to indicate that the 
+
+
+Greeks were more civilised than the barbarians, and not relentless, but, as we say, easily moved. 
+15 De Conj. Cat. c. 51. 
+
+16 Sallust, Cat. Conj. ix. 
+
+17 Ps, Ixxxix. 32. 
+
+18 Matt. v. 45. 
+
+19 Rom. ii. 4. 
+
+
+20 So Cyprian (Contra Demetrianum) says, “Poenam de adversis mundi ille sentlt, cui et letitia et 
+
+
+gloria omnis in mundo est.” 
+
+21 Ezek. xxxiii. 6. 
+
+22 Compare with this chapter the first homily of Chrysostom to the people of Antioch. 
+23 Rom. viii. 28. 
+
+24 1 Pet. iii. 4. 
+
+25 1 Tim. vi. 6-10. 
+
+26 Job i. 21. 
+
+27 1 Tim. vi. 17-19. 
+
+28 Matt. vi. 19-21. 
+
+
+29 Paulinus was a native of Bordeaux, and both by inheritance and marriage acquired great 
+wealth, which, after his conversion in his thirty-sixth year, he distributed to the poor. He became 
+bishop of Nola in A.D. 409, being then in his fifty-sixth year. Nola was taken by Alaric shortly 
+
+
+after the sack of Rome. 
+
+
+30 Much of a kindred nature might be gathered from the Stoics. Antoninus says (ii. 14): “Though 
+thou shouldest be going to live 3000 years, and as many times 10,000 years, still remember that 
+no man loses any other life than this which he now lives, nor lives any other than this which he 
+
+
+now loses. The longest and the shortest are thus brought to the same.” 
+
+31 Augustine expresses himself more fully on this subject in his tract, De cura pro mortuis gerenda. 
+32 Matt. x. 28. 
+
+33 Luke xii. 4. 
+
+34 Ds, Ixxix. 2, 3. 
+
+35 Ps. cxvi. 15. 
+
+
+36 Diogenes especially, and his followers. See also Seneca, De Tranq. c. 14, and Epist. 92; and in 
+Cicero’s Tusc. Disp. i. 43, the answer of Theodorus, the Cyrenian philosopher, to Lysimachus, who 
+threatened him with the cross: “Threaten that to your courtiers; it is of no consequence to 
+
+
+Theodorus whether he rot in the earth or in the air.” 
+
+
+37 Lucan, Pharsalia, vii. 819, of those whom Cæsar forbade to be buried after the battle of 
+
+
+Pharsalia. 
+
+38 Gen. xxv. 9, xxxv. 29, etc. 
+39 Gen. xlvii. 29, 1. 24. 
+
+40 Tob. xii. 12. 
+
+41 Matt. xxvi. 10-13. 
+
+42 John xix. 38. 
+
+43 Dan. iii. 
+
+44 Jonah. 
+
+
+45 “Second to none,” as he is called by Herodotus, who first of all tells his well-known story (Clio. 
+23, 24). 
+
+
+46 Augustine here uses the words of Cicero (“vigilando peremerunt”), who refers to Regulus, in 
+Pisonem, c. 19. Aulus Gellius, quoting Tubero and Tuditanus (vi. 4), adds some further particulars 
+regarding these tortures. 
+
+47 As the Stoics generally would affirm. 
+
+
+48 Virgil, Æneid, vi. 434. 
+
+
+49 Plutarch’s Life of Cato, 72. 
+50 1 Cor. ii. 11. 
+
+51 Ecclus. iii. 27. 
+
+52 Rom. xi. 33. 
+
+53 Ps, xlii. 10. 
+
+54 Ps, xcvi. 4, 5. 
+
+
+55 Originally the spectators had to stand, and now (according to Livy, Ep. xlviii.) the old custom 
+
+
+was restored. 
+
+
+BOOK SECOND 
+
+
+ARGUMENT 
+
+
+IN THIS BOOK AUGUSTINE REVIEWS THOSE CALAMITIES WHICH THE ROMANS SUFFERED BEFORE THE 
+TIME OF CHRIST, AND WHILE THE WORSHIP OF THE FALSE GODS WAS UNIVERSALLY PRACTISED; AND 
+DEMONSTRATES THAT, FAR FROM BEING PRESERVED FROM MISFORTUNE BY THE GODS, THE ROMANS 
+HAVE BEEN BY THEM OVERWHELMED WITH THE ONLY, OR AT LEAST THE GREATEST, OF ALL CALAMITIES 
+
+
+—THE CORRUPTION OF MANNERS, AND THE VICES OF THE SOUL. 
+1. Of the limits which must be put to the necessity of replying to an adversary 
+
+
+f the feeble mind of man did not presume to resist the clear evidence 
+
+of truth, but yielded its infirmity to wholesome doctrines, as to a 
+health-giving medicine, until it obtained from God, by its faith and piety, 
+the grace needed to heal it, they who have just ideas, and express them 
+in suitable language, would need to use no long discourse to refute the 
+errors of empty conjecture. But this mental infirmity is now more 
+prevalent and hurtful than ever, to such an extent that even after the 
+truth has been as fully demonstrated as man can prove it to man, they 
+hold for the very truth their own unreasonable fancies, either on account 
+of their great blindness, which prevents them from seeing what is plainly 
+set before them, or on account of their opinionative obstinacy, which 
+prevents them from acknowledging the force of what they do see. There 
+therefore frequently arises a necessity of speaking more fully on those 
+points which are already clear, that we may, as it were, present them not 
+to the eye, but even to the touch, so that they may be felt even by those 
+who close their eyes against them. And yet to what end shall we ever 
+bring our discussions, or what bounds can be set to our discourse, if we 
+proceed on the principle that we must always reply to those who reply 
+to us? For those who are either unable to understand our arguments, or 
+are so hardened by the habit of contradiction, that though they 
+understand they cannot yield to them, reply to us, and, as it is written, 
+“speak hard things,”! and are incorrigibly vain. Now, if we were to 
+propose to confute their objections as often as they with brazen face 
+
+
+chose to disregard our arguments, and as often as they could by any 
+means contradict our statements, you see how endless, and fruitless, and 
+painful a task we should be undertaking. And therefore I do not wish my 
+writings to be judged even by you, my son Marcellinus, nor by any of 
+those others at whose service this work of mine is freely and in all 
+Christian charity put, if at least you intend always to require a reply to 
+every exception which you hear taken to what you read in it; for so you 
+would become like those silly women of whom the apostle says that they 
+are “always learning, and never able to come to the knowledge of the 
+truth.”2 
+
+
+2. Recapitulation of the contents of the first book 
+
+
+In the foregoing book, having begun to speak of the city of God, to 
+which I have resolved, Heaven helping me, to consecrate the whole of 
+this work, it was my first endeavour to reply to those who attribute the 
+wars by which the world is being devastated, and specially the recent 
+sack of Rome by the barbarians, to the religion of Christ, which prohibits 
+the offering of abominable sacrifices to devils. I have shown that they 
+ought rather to attribute it to Christ, that for His name’s sake the 
+barbarians, in contravention of all custom and law of war, threw open as 
+sanctuaries the largest churches, and in many instances showed such 
+reverence to Christ, that not only His genuine servants, but even those 
+who in their terror feigned themselves to be so, were exempted from all 
+those hardships which by the custom of war may lawfully be inflicted. 
+Then out of this there arose the question, why wicked and ungrateful 
+men were permitted to share in these benefits; and why, too, the 
+hardships and calamities of war were inflicted on the godly as well as on 
+the ungodly. And in giving a suitably full answer to this large question, I 
+occupied some considerable space, partly that I might relieve the 
+anxieties which disturb many when they observe that the blessings of 
+God, and the common and daily human casualties, fall to the lot of bad 
+men and good without distinction; but mainly that I might minister some 
+consolation to those holy and chaste women who were outraged by the 
+enemy, in such a way as to shock their modesty, though not to sully 
+their purity, and that I might preserve them from being ashamed of life, 
+though they have no guilt to be ashamed of. And then I briefly spoke 
+against those who with a most shameless wantonness insult over those 
+
+
+poor Christians who were subjected to those calamities, and especially 
+over those brokenhearted and humiliated, though chaste and holy 
+women; these fellows themselves being most depraved and unmanly 
+profligates, quite degenerate from the genuine Romans, whose famous 
+deeds are abundantly recorded in history, and everywhere celebrated, 
+but who have found in their descendants the greatest enemies of their 
+glory. In truth, Rome, which was founded and increased by the labours 
+of these ancient heroes, was more shamefully ruined by their 
+descendants, while its walls were still standing, than it is now by the 
+razing of them. For in this ruin there fell stones and timbers; but in the 
+ruin those profligates effected, there fell, not the mural, but the moral 
+bulwarks and ornaments of the city, and their hearts burned with 
+passions more destructive than the flames which consumed their houses. 
+Thus I brought my first book to a close. And now I go on to speak of 
+those calamities which that city itself, or its subject provinces, have 
+suffered since its foundation; all of which they would equally have 
+attributed to the Christian religion, if at that early period the doctrine of 
+the gospel against their false and deceiving gods had been as largely and 
+freely proclaimed as now. 
+
+
+3. That we need only to read history in order to see what calamities the Romans suffered before 
+
+
+the religion of Christ began to compete with the worship of the gods 
+
+
+But remember that, in recounting these things, I have still to address 
+myself to ignorant men; so ignorant, indeed, as to give birth to the 
+common saying, “Drought and Christianity go hand in hand.”3 There are 
+indeed some among them who are thoroughly well educated men, and 
+have a taste for history, in which the things I speak of are open to their 
+observation; but in order to irritate the uneducated masses against us, 
+they feign ignorance of these events, and do what they can to make the 
+vulgar believe that those disasters, which in certain places and at certain 
+times uniformly befall mankind, are the result of Christianity, which is 
+being everywhere diffused, and is possessed of a renown and brilliancy 
+which quite eclipse their own gods.* Let them then, along with us, call to 
+mind with what various and repeated disasters the prosperity of Rome 
+was blighted, before ever Christ had come in the flesh, and before His 
+name had been blazoned among the nations with that glory which they 
+vainly grudge. Let them, if they can, defend their gods in this article, 
+
+
+since they maintain that they worship them in order to be preserved 
+from these disasters, which they now impute to us if they suffer in the 
+least degree. For why did these gods permit the disasters I am to speak 
+of to fall on their worshippers before the preaching of Christ’s name 
+offended them, and put an end to their sacrifices? 
+
+
+4. That the worshippers of the gods never received from them any healthy moral precepts, and that 
+
+
+in celebrating their worship all sorts of impurities were practised 
+
+
+First of all, we would ask why their gods took no steps to improve the 
+morals of their worshippers. That the true God should neglect those who 
+did not seek His help, that was but justice; but why did those gods, from 
+whose worship ungrateful men are now complaining that they are 
+prohibited, issue no laws which might have guided their devotees to a 
+virtuous life? Surely it was but just, that such care as men showed to the 
+worship of the gods, the gods on their part should have to the conduct of 
+men. But, it is replied, it is by his own will a man goes astray. Who 
+denies it? But none the less was it incumbent on these gods, who were 
+men’s guardians, to publish in plain terms the laws of a good life, and 
+not to conceal them from their worshippers. It was their part to send 
+prophets to reach and convict such as broke these laws, and publicly to 
+proclaim the punishments which await evildoers, and the rewards which 
+may be looked for by those that do well. Did ever the walls of any of 
+their temples echo to any such warning voice? I myself, when I was a 
+young man, used sometimes to go to the sacrilegious entertainments and 
+spectacles; I saw the priests raving in religious excitement, and heard the 
+choristers; I took pleasure in the shameful games which were celebrated 
+in honour of gods and goddesses, of the virgin Coelestis,> and 
+Berecynthia,© the mother of all the gods. And on the holy day 
+consecrated to her purification, there were sung before her couch 
+productions so obscene and filthy for the ear—I do not say of the mother 
+of the gods, but of the mother of any senator or honest man—nay, so 
+impure, that not even the mother of the foul-mouthed players 
+themselves could have formed one of the audience. For natural 
+reverence for parents is a bond which the most abandoned cannot 
+ignore. And, accordingly, the lewd actions and filthy words with which 
+these players honoured the mother of the gods, in presence of a vast 
+assemblage and audience of both sexes, they could not for very shame 
+
+
+have rehearsed at home in presence of their own mothers. And the 
+crowds that were gathered from all quarters by curiosity, offended 
+modesty must, I should suppose, have scattered in the confusion of 
+shame. If these are sacred rites, what is sacrilege? If this is purification, 
+what is pollution? This festivity was called the Tables,” as if a banquet 
+were being given at which unclean devils might find suitable 
+refreshment. For it is not difficult to see what kind of spirits they must 
+be who are delighted with such obscenities, unless, indeed, a man be 
+blinded by these evil spirits passing themselves off under the name of 
+gods, and either disbelieves in their existence, or leads such a life as 
+prompts him rather to propitiate and fear them than the true God. 
+
+
+5. Of the obscenities practised in honour of the mother of the gods 
+
+
+In this matter I would prefer to have as my assessors in judgment, not 
+those men who rather take pleasure in these infamous customs than take 
+pains to put an end to them, but that same Scipio Nasica who was 
+chosen by the senate as the citizen most worthy to receive in his hands 
+the image of that demon Cybele, and convey it into the city. He would 
+tell us whether he would be proud to see his own mother so highly 
+esteemed by the state as to have divine honours adjudged to her; as the 
+Greeks and Romans and other nations have decreed divine honours to 
+men who had been of material service to them, and have believed that 
+their mortal benefactors were thus made immortal and enrolled among 
+the gods.8 Surely he would desire that his mother should enjoy such 
+felicity were it possible. But if we proceeded to ask him whether, among 
+the honours paid to her, he would wish such shameful rites as these to 
+be celebrated, would he not at once exclaim that he would rather his 
+mother lay stone-dead, than survive as a goddess to lend her ear to these 
+obscenities? Is it possible that he who was of so severe a morality, that 
+he used his influence as a Roman senator to prevent the building of a 
+theatre in that city dedicated to the manly virtues, would wish his 
+mother to be propitiated as a goddess with words which would have 
+brought the blush to her cheek when a Roman matron? Could he 
+possibly believe that the modesty of an estimable woman would be so 
+transformed by her promotion to divinity, that she would suffer herself 
+to be invoked and celebrated in terms so gross and immodest, that if she 
+had heard the like while alive upon earth, and had listened without 
+
+
+stopping her ears and hurrying from the spot, her relatives, her husband, 
+and her children would have blushed for her? Therefore, the mother of 
+the gods being such a character as the most profligate man would be 
+ashamed to have for his mother, and meaning to enthral the minds of 
+the Romans, demanded for her service their best citizen, not to ripen 
+him still more in virtue by her helpful counsel, but to entangle him by 
+her deceit, like her of whom it is written, “The adulteress will hunt for 
+the precious soul.”? Her intent was to puff up this high-souled man by an 
+apparently divine testimony to his excellence, in order that he might rely 
+upon his own eminence in virtue, and make no further efforts after true 
+piety and religion, without which natural genius, however brilliant, 
+vapours into pride and comes to nothing. For what but a guileful 
+purpose could that goddess demand the best man, seeing that in her own 
+sacred festivals she requires such obscenities as the best men would be 
+covered with shame to hear at their own tables? 
+
+
+6. That the gods of the pagans never inculcated holiness of life 
+
+
+This is the reason why those divinities quite neglected the lives and 
+morals of the cities and nations who worshipped them, and threw no 
+dreadful prohibition in their way to hinder them from becoming utterly 
+corrupt, and to preserve them from those terrible and detestable evils 
+which visit not harvests and vintages, not house and possessions, not the 
+body which is subject to the soul, but the soul itself, the spirit that rules 
+the whole man. If there was any such prohibition, let it be produced, let 
+it be proved. They will tell us that purity and probity were inculcated 
+upon those who were initiated in the mysteries of religion, and that 
+secret incitements to virtue were whispered in the ear of the élite; but 
+this is an idle boast: Let them show or name to us the places which were 
+at any time consecrated to assemblages in which, instead of the obscene 
+songs and licentious acting of players, instead of the celebration of those 
+most filthy and shameless Fugalia!9 (well called Fugalia, since they 
+banish modesty and right feeling), the people were commanded in the 
+name of the gods to restrain avarice, bridle impurity, and conquer 
+ambition; where, in short, they might learn in that school which Persius 
+vehemently lashes them to, when he says: “Be taught, ye abandoned 
+creatures, and ascertain the causes of things; what we are, and for what 
+end we are born; what is the law of our success in life, and by what art 
+
+
+we may turn the goal without making shipwreck; what limit we should 
+put to our wealth, what we may lawfully desire, and what uses filthy 
+lucre serves; how much we should bestow upon our country and our 
+family; learn, in short, what God meant thee to be, and what place He 
+has ordered you to fill.”!1 Let them name to us the places where such 
+instructions were wont to be communicated from the gods, and where 
+the people who worshipped them were accustomed to resort to hear 
+them, as we can point to our churches built for this purpose in every 
+land where the Christian religion is received. 
+
+
+7. That the suggestions of philosophers are precluded from having any moral effect, because they 
+have not the authority which belongs to divine instruction, and because man’s natural bias to 
+
+
+evil induces him rather to follow the examples of the gods than to obey the precepts of men 
+
+
+But will they perhaps remind us of the schools of the philosophers, 
+and their disputations? In the first place, these belong not to Rome, but 
+to Greece; and even if we yield to them that they are now Roman, 
+because Greece itself has become a Roman province, still the teachings 
+of the philosophers are not the commandments of the gods, but the 
+discoveries of men, who, at the prompting of their own speculative 
+ability, made efforts to discover the hidden laws of nature, and the right 
+and wrong in ethics, and in dialectic what was consequent according to 
+the rules of logic, and what was inconsequent and erroneous. And some 
+of them, by God’s help, made great discoveries; but when left to 
+themselves they were betrayed by human infirmity, and fell into 
+mistakes. And this was ordered by divine providence, that their pride 
+might be restrained, and that by their example it might be pointed out 
+that it is humility which has access to the highest regions. But of this we 
+shall have more to say, if the Lord God of truth permit, in its own 
+place.12 However, if the philosophers have made any discoveries which 
+are sufficient to guide men to virtue and blessedness, would it not have 
+been greater justice to vote divine honours to them? Were it not more 
+accordant with every virtuous sentiment to read Plato’s writings in a 
+“Temple of Plato,” than to be present in the temples of devils to witness 
+the priests of Cybele!3 mutilating themselves, the effeminate being 
+consecrated, the raving fanatics cutting themselves, and whatever other 
+cruel or shameful, or shamefully cruel or cruelly shameful, ceremony is 
+enjoined by the ritual of such gods as these? Were it not a more suitable 
+
+
+education, and more likely to prompt the youth to virtue, if they heard 
+public recitals of the laws of the gods, instead of the vain laudation of 
+the customs and laws of their ancestors? Certainly all the worshippers of 
+the Roman gods, when once they are possessed by what Persius calls 
+“the burning poison of lust,”!4 prefer to witness the deeds of Jupiter 
+rather than to hear what Plato taught or Cato censured. Hence the young 
+profligate in Terence, when he sees on the wall a fresco representing the 
+fabled descent of Jupiter into the lap of Danaé in the form of a golden 
+shower, accepts this as authoritative precedent for his own 
+licentiousness, and boasts that he is an imitator of God. “And what 
+God?” he says. “He who with his thunder shakes the loftiest temples. 
+And was I, a poor creature compared to him, to make bones of it? No; I 
+did it, and with all my heart.”!5 
+
+
+8. That the theatrical exhibitions publishing the shameful actions of the gods, propitiated rather 
+than offended them 
+
+
+But, some one will interpose, these are the fables of poets, not the 
+deliverances of the gods themselves. Well, I have no mind to arbitrate 
+between the lewdness of theatrical entertainments and of mystic rites; 
+only this I say, and history bears me out in making the assertion, that 
+those same entertainments, in which the fictions of poets are the main 
+attraction, were not introduced in the festivals of the gods by the 
+ignorant devotion of the Romans, but that the gods themselves gave the 
+most urgent commands to this effect, and indeed extorted from the 
+Romans these solemnities and celebrations in their honour. I touched on 
+this in the preceding book, and mentioned that dramatic entertainments 
+were first inaugurated at Rome on occasion of a pestilence, and by 
+authority of the pontiff. And what man is there who is not more likely to 
+adopt, for the regulation of his own life, the examples that are 
+represented in plays which have a divine sanction, rather than the 
+precepts written and promulgated with no more than human authority? 
+If the poets gave a false representation of Jove in describing him as 
+adulterous, then it were to be expected that the chaste gods should in 
+anger avenge so wicked a fiction, in place of encouraging the games 
+which circulated it. Of these plays, the most inoffensive are comedies 
+and tragedies, that is to say, the dramas which poets write for the stage, 
+and which, though they often handle impure subjects, yet do so without 
+
+
+the filthiness of language which characterizes many other performances; 
+and it is these dramas which boys are obliged by their seniors to read 
+and learn as a part of what is called a liberal and gentlemanly 
+education.16 
+
+
+9. That the poetical licence which the Greeks, in obedience to their gods, allowed, was restrained 
+
+
+by the ancient Romans 
+
+
+The opinion of the ancient Romans on this matter is attested by Cicero 
+in his work De Republica, in which Scipio, one of the interlocutors, says, 
+“The lewdness of comedy could never have been suffered by audiences, 
+unless the customs of society had previously sanctioned the same 
+lewdness.” And in the earlier days the Greeks preserved a certain 
+reasonableness in their licence, and made it a law, that whatever 
+comedy wished to say of any one, it must say it of him by name. And so 
+in the same work of Cicero’s, Scipio says, “Whom has it not aspersed? 
+Nay, whom has it not worried? Whom has it spared? Allow that it may 
+assail demagogues and factions, men injurious to the commonwealth—a 
+Cleon, a Cleophon, a Hyperbolus. That is tolerable, though it had been 
+more seemly for the public censor to brand such men, than for a poet to 
+lampoon them; but to blacken the fame of Pericles with scurrilous verse, 
+after he had with the utmost dignity presided over their state alike in 
+war and in peace, was as unworthy of a poet, as if our own Plautus or 
+Nevius were to bring Publius and Cneius Scipio on the comic stage, or 
+as if Ceecilius were to caricature Cato.” And then a little after he goes on: 
+“Though our Twelve Tables attached the penalty of death only to a very 
+few offences, yet among these few this was one: if any man should have 
+sung a pasquinade, or have composed a satire calculated to bring infamy 
+or disgrace on another person. Wisely decreed. For it is by the decisions 
+of magistrates, and by a well-informed justice, that our lives ought to be 
+judged, and not by the flighty fancies of poets; neither ought we to be 
+exposed to hear calumnies, save where we have the liberty of replying, 
+and defending ourselves before an adequate tribunal.” This much I have 
+judged it advisable to quote from the fourth book of Cicero’s De 
+Republica; and I have made the quotation word for word, with the 
+exception of some words omitted, and some slightly transposed, for the 
+sake of giving the sense more readily. And certainly the extract is 
+pertinent to the matter I am endeavouring to explain. Cicero makes some 
+
+
+further remarks, and concludes the passage by showing that the ancient 
+Romans did not permit any living man to be either praised or blamed on 
+the stage. But the Greeks, as I said, though not so moral, were more 
+logical in allowing this licence which the Romans forbade: for they saw 
+that their gods approved and enjoyed the scurrilous language of low 
+comedy when directed not only against men, but even against 
+themselves; and this, whether the infamous actions imputed to them 
+were the fictions of poets, or were their actual iniquities commemorated 
+and acted in the theatres. And would that the spectators had judged 
+them worthy only of laughter, and not of imitation! Manifestly it had 
+been a stretch of pride to spare the good name of the leading men and 
+the common citizens, when the very deities did not grudge that their 
+own reputation should be blemished. 
+
+
+10. That the devils, in suffering either false or true crimes to be laid to their charge, meant to do 
+
+
+men a mischief 
+
+
+It is alleged, in excuse of this practice, that the stories told of the gods 
+are not true, but false, and mere inventions; but this only makes matters 
+worse, if we form our estimate by the morality our religion teaches; and 
+if we consider the malice of the devils, what more wily and astute 
+artifice could they practise upon men? When a slander is uttered against 
+a leading statesman of upright and useful life, is it not reprehensible in 
+proportion to its untruth and groundlessness? What punishment, then, 
+shall be sufficient when the gods are the objects of so wicked and 
+outrageous an injustice? But the devils, whom these men repute gods, 
+are content that even iniquities they are guiltless of should be ascribed 
+to them, so long as they may entangle men’s minds in the meshes of 
+these opinions, and draw them on along with themselves to their 
+predestinated punishment: whether such things were actually committed 
+by the men whom these devils, delighting in human infatuation, cause to 
+be worshipped as gods, and in whose stead they, by a thousand malign 
+and deceitful artifices, substitute themselves, and so receive worship; or 
+whether, though they were really the crimes of men, these wicked spirits 
+gladly allowed them to be attributed to higher beings, that there might 
+seem to be conveyed from heaven itself a sufficient sanction for the 
+perpetration of shameful wickedness. The Greeks, therefore, seeing the 
+character of the gods they served, thought that the poets should 
+
+
+certainly not refrain from showing up human vices on the stage, either 
+because they desired to be like their gods in this, or because they were 
+afraid that, if they required for themselves a more unblemished 
+reputation than they asserted for the gods, they might provoke them to 
+anger. 
+
+
+11. That the Greeks admitted players to offices of state, on the ground that men who pleased the 
+gods should not be contemptuously treated by their fellows 
+
+
+It was a part of this same reasonableness of the Greeks which induced 
+them to bestow upon the actors of these same plays no inconsiderable 
+civic honours. In the above-mentioned book of the De Republica, it is 
+mentioned that Aischines, a very eloquent Athenian, who had been a 
+tragic actor in his youth, became a statesman, and that the Athenians 
+again and again sent another tragedian, Aristodemus, as their 
+plenipotentiary to Philip. For they judged it unbecoming to condemn 
+and treat as infamous persons those who were the chief actors in the 
+scenic entertainments which they saw to be so pleasing to the gods. No 
+doubt this was immoral of the Greeks, but there can be as little doubt 
+they acted in conformity with the character of their gods; for how could 
+they have presumed to protect the conduct of the citizens from being cut 
+to pieces by the tongues of poets and players, who were allowed, and 
+even enjoined by the gods, to tear their divine reputation to tatters? And 
+how could they hold in contempt the men who acted in the theatres 
+those dramas which, as they had ascertained, gave pleasure to the gods 
+whom they worshipped? Nay, how could they but grant to them the 
+highest civic honours? On what plea could they honour the priests who 
+offered for them acceptable sacrifices to the gods, if they branded with 
+infamy the actors who in behalf of the people gave to the gods that 
+pleasure or honour which they demanded, and which, according to the 
+account of the priests, they were angry at not receiving? Labeo,!7 whose 
+learning makes him an authority on such points, is of opinion that the 
+distinction between good and evil deities should find expression in a 
+difference of worship; that the evil should be propitiated by bloody 
+sacrifices and doleful rites, but the good with a joyful and pleasant 
+observance, as, e.g. (as he says himself), with plays, festivals, and 
+banquets.!8 All this we shall, with God’s help, hereafter discuss. At 
+present, and speaking to the subject on hand, whether all kinds of 
+
+
+offerings are made indiscriminately to all the gods, as if all were good 
+(and it is an unseemly thing to conceive that there are evil gods; but 
+these gods of the pagans are all evil, because they are not gods, but evil 
+spirits), or whether, as Labeo thinks, a distinction is made between the 
+offerings presented to the different gods, the Greeks are equally justified 
+in honouring alike the priests by whom the sacrifices are offered, and 
+the players by whom the dramas are acted, that they may not be open to 
+the charge of doing an injury to all their gods, if the plays are pleasing to 
+all of them, or (which were still worse) to their good gods, if the plays 
+are relished only by them. 
+
+
+12. That the Romans, by refusing to the poets the same licence in respect of men which they 
+allowed them in the case of the gods, showed a more delicate sensitiveness regarding themselves 
+
+
+than regarding the gods 
+
+
+The Romans, however, as Scipio boasts in that same discussion, 
+declined having their conduct and good name subjected to the assaults 
+and slanders of the poets, and went so far as to make it a capital crime if 
+any one should dare to compose such verses. This was a very honourable 
+course to pursue, so far as they themselves were concerned, but in 
+respect of the gods it was proud and irreligious: for they knew that the 
+gods not only tolerated, but relished, being lashed by the injurious 
+expressions of the poets, and yet they themselves would not suffer this 
+same handling; and what their ritual prescribed as acceptable to the 
+gods, their law prohibited as injurious to themselves. How then, Scipio, 
+do you praise the Romans for refusing this licence to the poets, so that 
+no citizen could be calumniated, while you know that the gods were not 
+included under this protection? Do you count your senate-house worthy 
+of so much higher a regard than the Capitol? Is the one city of Rome 
+more valuable in your eyes than the whole heaven of gods, that you 
+prohibit your poets from uttering any injurious words against a citizen, 
+though they may with impunity cast what imputations they please upon 
+the gods, without the interference of senator, censor, prince, or pontiff? 
+It was, forsooth, intolerable that Plautus or Nevius should attack Publius 
+and Cneius Scipio, insufferable that Czecilius should lampoon Cato; but 
+quite proper that your Terence should encourage youthful lust by the 
+wicked example of supreme Jove. 
+
+
+13. That the Romans should have understood that gods who desired to be worshipped in licentious 
+
+
+entertainments were unworthy of divine honour 
+
+
+But Scipio, were he alive, would possibly reply: “How could we attach 
+a penalty to that which the gods themselves have consecrated? For the 
+theatrical entertainments in which such things are said, and acted, and 
+performed, were introduced into Roman society by the gods, who 
+ordered that they should be dedicated and exhibited in their honour.” 
+But was not this, then, the plainest proof that they were no true gods, 
+nor in any respect worthy of receiving divine honours from the republic? 
+Suppose they had required that in their honour the citizens of Rome 
+should be held up to ridicule, every Roman would have resented the 
+hateful proposal. How then, I would ask, can they be esteemed worthy of 
+worship, when they propose that their own crimes be used as material 
+for celebrating their praises? Does not this artifice expose them, and 
+prove that they are detestable devils? Thus the Romans, though they 
+were superstitious enough to serve as gods those who made no secret of 
+their desire to be worshipped in licentious plays, yet had sufficient 
+regard to their hereditary dignity and virtue, to prompt them to refuse to 
+players any such rewards as the Greeks accorded them. On this point we 
+have this testimony of Scipio, recorded in Cicero: “They [the Romans] 
+considered comedy and all theatrical performances as disgraceful, and 
+therefore not only debarred players from offices and honours open to 
+ordinary citizens, but also decreed that their names should be branded 
+by the censor, and erased from the roll of their tribe.” An excellent 
+decree, and another testimony to the sagacity of Rome; but I could wish 
+their prudence had been more thoroughgoing and consistent. For when I 
+hear that if any Roman citizen chose the stage as his profession, he not 
+only closed to himself every laudable career, but even became an outcast 
+from his own tribe, I cannot but exclaim: This is the true Roman spirit, 
+this is worthy of a state jealous of its reputation. But then some one 
+interrupts my rapture, by inquiring with what consistency players are 
+debarred from all honours, while plays are counted among the honours 
+due to the gods? For a long while the virtue of Rome was 
+uncontaminated by theatrical exhibitions;!9 and if they had been 
+adopted for the sake of gratifying the taste of the citizens, they would 
+have been introduced hand in hand with the relaxation of manners. But 
+the fact is, that it was the gods who demanded that they should be 
+
+
+exhibited to gratify them. With what justice, then, is the player 
+excommunicated by whom God is worshipped? On what pretext can you 
+at once adore him who exacts, and brand him who acts these plays? 
+This, then, is the controversy in which the Greeks and Romans are 
+engaged. The Greeks think they justly honour players, because they 
+worship the gods who demand plays: the Romans, on the other hand, do 
+not suffer an actor to disgrace by his name his own plebeian tribe, far 
+less the senatorial order. And the whole of this discussion may be 
+summed up in the following syllogism. The Greeks give us the major 
+premiss: If such gods are to be worshipped, then certainly such men may 
+be honoured. The Romans add the minor: But such men must by no 
+means be honoured. The Christians draw the conclusion: Therefore such 
+gods must by no means be worshipped. 
+
+
+14. That Plato, who excluded poets from a well-ordered city, was better than these gods who 
+desire to be honoured by theatrical plays 
+
+
+We have still to inquire why the poets who write the plays, and who 
+by the law of the twelve tables are prohibited from injuring the good 
+name of the citizens, are reckoned more estimable than the actors, 
+though they so shamefully asperse the character of the gods? Is it right 
+that the actors of these poetical and God-dishonouring effusions be 
+branded, while their authors are honoured? Must we not here award the 
+palm to a Greek, Plato, who, in framing his ideal republic,2° conceived 
+that poets should be banished from the city as enemies of the state? He 
+could not brook that the gods be brought into disrepute, nor that the 
+minds of the citizens be depraved and besotted, by the fictions of the 
+poets. Compare now human nature as you see it in Plato, expelling poets 
+from the city that the citizens be uninjured, with the divine nature as 
+you see it in these gods exacting plays in their own honour. Plato strove, 
+though unsuccessfully, to persuade the light-minded and _ lascivious 
+Greeks to abstain from so much as writing such plays; the gods used 
+their authority to extort the acting of the same from the dignified and 
+sober-minded Romans. And not content with having them acted, they 
+had them dedicated to themselves, consecrated to themselves, solemnly 
+celebrated in their own honour. To which, then, would it be more 
+becoming in a state to decree divine honours—to Plato, who prohibited 
+these wicked and licentious plays, or to the demons who delighted in 
+
+
+blinding men to the truth of what Plato unsuccessfully sought to 
+inculcate? 
+
+This philosopher, Plato, has been elevated by Labeo to the rank of a 
+demigod, and set thus upon a level with such as Hercules and Romulus. 
+Labeo ranks demigods higher than heroes, but both he counts among the 
+deities. But I have no doubt that he thinks this man whom he reckons a 
+demigod worthy of greater respect not only than the heroes, but also 
+than the gods themselves. The laws of the Romans and the speculations 
+of Plato have this resemblance, that the latter pronounces a wholesale 
+condemnation of poetical fictions, while the former restrain the licence 
+of satire, at least so far as men are the objects of it. Plato will not suffer 
+poets even to dwell in his city: the laws of Rome prohibit actors from 
+being enrolled as citizens; and if they had not feared to offend the gods 
+who had asked the services of the players, they would in all likelihood 
+have banished them altogether. It is obvious, therefore, that the Romans 
+could not receive, nor reasonably expect to receive, laws for the 
+regulation of their conduct from their gods, since the laws they 
+themselves enacted far surpassed and put to shame the morality of the 
+gods. The gods demand stage-plays in their own honour; the Romans 
+exclude the players from all civic honours:2! the former commanded that 
+they should be celebrated by the scenic representation of their own 
+disgrace; the latter commanded that no poet should dare to blemish the 
+reputation of any citizen. But that demigod Plato resisted the lust of such 
+gods as these, and showed the Romans what their genius had left 
+incomplete; for he absolutely excluded poets from his ideal state, 
+whether they composed fictions with no regard to truth, or set the worst 
+possible examples before wretched men under the guise of divine 
+actions. We for our part, indeeed, reckon Plato neither a god nor a 
+demigod; we would not even compare him to any of God’s holy angels, 
+nor to the truth-speaking prophets, nor to any of the apostles or martyrs 
+of Christ, nay, not to any faithful Christian man. The reason of this 
+opinion of ours we will, God prospering us, render in its own place. 
+Nevertheless, since they wish him to be considered a demigod, we think 
+he certainly is more entitled to that rank, and is every way superior, if 
+not to Hercules and Romulus (though no historian could ever narrate nor 
+any poet sing of him that he had killed his brother, or committed any 
+crime), yet certainly to Priapus, or a Cynocephalus,22 or the Fever23— 
+
+
+divinities whom the Romans have partly received from foreigners, and 
+partly consecrated by home-grown rites. How, then, could gods such as 
+these be expected to promulgate good and wholesome laws, either for 
+the prevention of moral and social evils, or for their eradication where 
+they had already sprung up?—gods who used their influence even to 
+sow and cherish profligacy, by appointing that deeds truly or falsely 
+ascribed to them should be published to the people by means of 
+theatrical exhibitions, and by thus gratuitously fanning the flame of 
+human lust with the breath of a seemingly divine approbation. In vain 
+does Cicero, speaking of poets, exclaim against this state of things in 
+these words: “When the plaudits and acclamation of the people, who sit 
+as infallible judges, are won by the poets, what darkness benights the 
+mind, what fears invade, what passions inflame it!”24 
+
+
+15. That it was vanity, not reason, which created some of the Roman gods 
+
+
+But is it not manifest that vanity rather than reason regulated the 
+choice of some of their false gods? This Plato, whom they reckon a 
+demigod, and who used all his eloquence to preserve men from the most 
+dangerous spiritual calamities, has yet not been counted worthy even of 
+a little shrine; but Romulus, because they can call him their own, they 
+have esteemed more highly than many gods, though their secret doctrine 
+can allow him the rank only of a demigod. To him they allotted a 
+flamen, that is to say, a priest of a class so highly esteemed in their 
+religion (distinguished, too, by their conical mitres), that for only three 
+of their gods were flamens appointed—the Flamen Dialis for Jupiter, 
+Martialis for Mars, and Quirinalis for Romulus (for when the ardour of 
+his fellow-citizens had given Romulus a seat among the gods, they gave 
+him this new name Quirinus). And thus by this honour Romulus has 
+been preferred to Neptune and Pluto, Jupiter’s brothers, and to Saturn 
+himself, their father. They have assigned the same priesthood to serve 
+him as to serve Jove; and in giving Mars (the reputed father of Romulus) 
+the same honour, is this not rather for Romulus’ sake than to honour 
+Mars? 
+
+
+16. That if the gods had really possessed any regard for righteousness, the Romans should have 
+
+
+received good laws from them, instead of having to borrow them from other nations 
+
+
+Moreover, if the Romans had been able to receive a rule of life from 
+
+
+their gods, they would not have borrowed Solon’s laws from the 
+Athenians, as they did some years after Rome was founded; and yet they 
+did not keep them as they received them, but endeavoured to improve 
+and amend them.25 Although Lycurgus pretended that he was authorized 
+by Apollo to give laws to the Lacedemonians, the sensible Romans did 
+not choose to believe this, and were not induced to borrow laws from 
+Sparta. Numa Pompilius, who succeeded Romulus in the kingdom, is 
+said to have framed some laws, which, however, were not sufficient for 
+the regulation of civic affairs. Among these regulations were many 
+pertaining to religious observances, and yet he is not reported to have 
+received even these from the gods. With respect, then, to moral evils, 
+evils of life and conduct—evils which are so mighty, that, according to 
+the wisest pagans,26 by them states are ruined while their cities stand 
+uninjured—their gods made not the smallest provision for preserving 
+their worshippers from these evils, but, on the contrary, took special 
+pains to increase them, as we have previously endeavoured to prove. 
+
+
+17. Of the rape of the Sabine women, and other iniquities perpetrated in Rome’s palmiest days 
+
+
+But possibly we are to find the reason for this neglect of the Romans 
+by their gods, in the saying of Sallust, that “equity and virtue prevailed 
+among the Romans not more by force of laws than of nature.”27 I 
+presume it is to this inborn equity and goodness of disposition we are to 
+ascribe the rape of the Sabine women. What, indeed, could be more 
+equitable and virtuous, than to carry off by force, as each man was fit, 
+and without their parents’ consent, girls who were strangers and guests, 
+and who had been decoyed and entrapped by the pretence of a 
+spectacle! If the Sabines were wrong to deny their daughters when the 
+Romans asked for them, was it not a greater wrong in the Romans to 
+carry them off after that denial? The Romans might more justly have 
+waged war against the neighbouring nation for having refused their 
+daughters in marriage when they first sought them, than for having 
+demanded them back when they had stolen them. War should have been 
+proclaimed at first: it was then that Mars should have helped his warlike 
+son, that he might by force of arms avenge the injury done him by the 
+refusal of marriage, and might also thus win the women he desired. 
+There might have been some appearance of “right of war” in a victor 
+carrying off, in virtue of this right, the virgins who had been without any 
+
+
+show of right denied him; whereas there was no “right of peace” 
+entitling him to carry off those who were not given to him, and to wage 
+an unjust war with their justly enraged parents. One happy circumstance 
+was indeed connected with this act of violence, viz., that though it was 
+commemorated by the games of the circus, yet even this did not 
+constitute it a precedent in the city or realm of Rome. If one would find 
+fault with the results of this act, it must rather be on the ground that the 
+Romans made Romulus a god in spite of his perpetrating this iniquity; 
+for one cannot reproach them with making this deed any kind of 
+precedent for the rape of women. 
+
+Again, I presume it was due to this natural equity and virtue, that 
+after the expulsion of King Tarquin, whose son had violated Lucretia, 
+Junius Brutus the consul forced Lucius Tarquinius Collatinus, Lucretia’s 
+husband and his own colleague, a good and innocent man, to resign his 
+office and go into banishment, on the one sole charge that he was of the 
+name and blood of the Tarquins. This injustice was perpetrated with the 
+approval, or at least connivance, of the people, who had themselves 
+raised to the consular office both Collatinus and Brutus. Another 
+instance of this equity and virtue is found in their treatment of Marcus 
+Camillus. This eminent man, after he had rapidly conquered the Veians, 
+at that time the most formidable of Rome’s enemies, and who had 
+maintained a ten years’ war, in which the Roman army had suffered the 
+usual calamities attendant on bad generalship, after he had restored 
+security to Rome, which had begun to tremble for its safety, and after he 
+had taken the wealthiest city of the enemy, had charges brought against 
+him by the malice of those that envied his success, and by the insolence 
+of the tribunes of the people; and seeing that the city bore him no 
+gratitude for preserving it, and that he would certainly be condemned, 
+he went into exile, and even in his absence was fined 10,000 asses. 
+Shortly after, however, his ungrateful country had again to seek his 
+protection from the Gauls. But I cannot now mention all the shameful 
+and iniquitous acts with which Rome was agitated, when the aristocracy 
+attempted to subject the people, and the people resented their 
+encroachments, and the advocates of either party were actuated rather 
+by the love of victory than by any equitable or virtuous consideration. 
+
+
+18. What the history of Sallust reveals regarding the life of the Romans, either when straitened 
+
+
+by anxiety or relaxed in security 
+
+
+I will therefore pause, and adduce the testimony of Sallust himself, 
+whose words in praise of the Romans (that “equity and virtue prevailed 
+among them not more by force of laws than of nature”) have given 
+occasion to this discussion. He was referring to that period immediately 
+after the expulsion of the kings, in which the city became great in an 
+incredibly short space of time. And yet this same writer acknowledges in 
+the first book of his history, in the very exordium of his work, that even 
+at that time, when a very brief interval had elapsed after the government 
+had passed from kings to consuls, the more powerful men began to act 
+unjustly, and occasioned the defection of the people from the patricians, 
+and other disorders in the city. For after Sallust had stated that the 
+Romans enjoyed greater harmony and a purer state of society between 
+the second and third Punic wars than at any other time, and that the 
+cause of this was not their love of good order, but their fear lest the 
+peace they had with Carthage might be broken (this also, as we 
+mentioned, Nasica contemplated when he opposed the destruction of 
+Carthage, for he supposed that fear would tend to repress wickedness, 
+and to preserve wholesome ways of living), he then goes on to say: “Yet, 
+after the destruction of Carthage, discord, avarice, ambition, and the 
+other vices which are commonly generated by prosperity, more than 
+ever increased.” If they “increased,” and that “more than ever,” then 
+already they had appeared, and had been increasing. And so Sallust adds 
+this reason for what he said. “For,” he says, “the oppressive measures of 
+the powerful, and the consequent secessions of the plebs from the 
+patricians, and other civil dissensions, had existed from the first, and 
+affairs were administered with equity and well-tempered justice for no 
+longer a period than the short time after the expulsion of the kings, 
+while the city was occupied with the serious Tuscan war and Tarquin’s 
+vengeance.” You see how, even in that brief period after the expulsion of 
+the kings, fear, he acknowledges, was the cause of the interval of equity 
+and good order. They were afraid, in fact, of the war which Tarquin 
+waged against them, after he had been driven from the throne and the 
+city, and had allied himself with the Tuscans. But observe what he adds: 
+“After that, the patricians treated the people as their slaves, ordering 
+them to be scourged or beheaded just as the kings had done, driving 
+
+
+them from their holdings, and harshly tyrannizing over those who had 
+no property to lose. The people, overwhelmed by these oppressive 
+measures, and most of all by exorbitant usury, and obliged to contribute 
+both money and personal service to the constant wars, at length took 
+arms, and seceded to Mount Aventine and Mount Sacer, and thus 
+obtained for themselves tribunes and protective laws. But it was only the 
+second Punic war that put an end on both sides to discord and strife.” 
+You see what kind of men the Romans were, even so early as a few years 
+after the expulsion of the kings; and it is of these men he says, that 
+“equity and virtue prevailed among them not more by force of law than 
+of nature.” 
+
+Now, if these were the days in which the Roman republic shows fairest 
+and best, what are we to say or think of the succeeding age, when, to use 
+the words of the same historian, “changing little by little from the fair 
+and virtuous city it was, it became utterly wicked and dissolute?” This 
+was, as he mentions, after the destruction of Carthage. Sallust’s brief sum 
+and sketch of this period may be read in his own history, in which he 
+shows how the profligate manners which were propagated by prosperity 
+resulted at last even in civil wars. He says: “And from this time the 
+primitive manners, instead of undergoing an insensible alteration as 
+hitherto they had done, were swept away as by a torrent: the young men 
+were so depraved by luxury and avarice, that it may justly be said that 
+no father had a son who could either preserve his own patrimony, or 
+keep his hands off other men’s.” Sallust adds a number of particulars 
+about the vices of Sylla, and the debased condition of the republic in 
+general; and other writers make similar observations, though in much 
+less striking language. 
+
+However, I suppose you now see, or at least any one who gives his 
+attention has the means of seeing, in what a sink of iniquity that city 
+was plunged before the advent of our heavenly King. For these things 
+happened not only before Christ had begun to teach, but before He was 
+even born of the Virgin. If, then, they dare not impute to their gods the 
+grievous evils of those former times, more tolerable before the 
+destruction of Carthage, but intolerable and dreadful after it, although it 
+was the gods who by their malign craft instilled into the minds of men 
+the conceptions from which such dreadful vices branched out on all 
+sides, why do they impute these present calamities to Christ, who 
+
+
+teaches life-giving truth, and forbids us to worship false and deceitful 
+gods, and who, abominating and condemning with His divine authority 
+those wicked and hurtful lusts of men, gradually withdraws His own 
+people from a world that is corrupted by these vices, and is falling into 
+ruins, to make of them an eternal city, whose glory rests not on the 
+acclamations of vanity, but on the judgment of truth? 
+
+
+19. Of the corruption which had grown upon the Roman republic before Christ abolished the 
+worship of the gods 
+
+
+Here, then, is this Roman republic, “which has changed little by little 
+from the fair and virtuous city it was, and has become utterly wicked 
+and dissolute.” It is not I who am the first to say this, but their own 
+authors, from whom we learned it for a fee, and who wrote it long 
+before the coming of Christ. You see how, before the coming of Christ, 
+and after the destruction of Carthage, “the primitive manners, instead of 
+undergoing insensible alteration, as hitherto they had done, were swept 
+away as by a torrent; and how depraved by luxury and avarice the youth 
+were.” Let them now, on their part, read to us any laws given by their 
+gods to the Roman people, and directed against luxury and avarice. And 
+would that they had only been silent on the subjects of chastity and 
+modesty, and had not demanded from the people indecent and shameful 
+practices, to which they lent a pernicious patronage by their so-called 
+divinity. Let them read our commandments in the Prophets, Gospels, 
+Acts of the Apostles, or Epistles; let them peruse the large number of 
+precepts against avarice and luxury which are everywhere read to the 
+congregations that meet for this purpose, and which strike the ear, not 
+with the uncertain sound of a philosophical discussion, but with the 
+thunder of God’s own oracle pealing from the clouds. And yet they do 
+not impute to their gods the luxury and avarice, the cruel and dissolute 
+manners, that had rendered the republic utterly wicked and corrupt, 
+even before the coming of Christ; but whatever affliction their pride and 
+effeminacy have exposed them to in these latter days, they furiously 
+impute to our religion. If the kings of the earth and all their subjects, if 
+all princes and judges of the earth, if young men and maidens, old and 
+young, every age, and both sexes; if they whom the Baptist addressed, 
+the publicans and the soldiers, were all together to hearken to and 
+observe the precepts of the Christian religion regarding a just and 
+
+
+virtuous life, then should the republic adorn the whole earth with its 
+own felicity, and attain in life everlasting to the pinnacle of kingly glory. 
+But because this man listens, and that man scoffs, and most are 
+enamoured of the blandishments of vice rather than the wholesome 
+severity of virtue, the people of Christ, whatever be their condition— 
+whether they be kings, princes, judges, soldiers, or provincials, rich or 
+poor, bond or free, male or female—are enjoined to endure this earthly 
+republic, wicked and dissolute as it is, that so they may by this 
+endurance win for themselves an eminent place in that most holy and 
+august assembly of angels and republic of heaven, in which the will of 
+God is the law. 
+
+
+20. Of the kind of happiness and life truly delighted in by those who inveigh against the 
+
+
+Christian religion 
+
+
+But the worshippers and admirers of these gods delight in imitating 
+their scandalous iniquities, and are nowise concerned that the republic 
+be less depraved and licentious. Only let it remain undefeated, they say, 
+only let it flourish and abound in resources; let it be glorious by its 
+victories, or still better, secure in peace; and what matters it to us? This 
+is our concern, that every man be able to increase his wealth so as to 
+supply his daily prodigalities, and so that the powerful may subject the 
+weak for their own purposes. Let the poor court the rich for a living, and 
+that under their protection they may enjoy a sluggish tranquillity; and 
+let the rich abuse the poor as their dependants, to minister to their pride. 
+Let the people applaud not those who protect their interests, but those 
+who provide them with pleasure. Let no severe duty be commanded, no 
+impurity forbidden. Let kings estimate their prosperity, not by the 
+righteousness, but by the servility of their subjects. Let the provinces 
+stand loyal to the kings, not as moral guides, but as lords of their 
+possessions and purveyors of their pleasures; not with a hearty 
+reverence, but a crooked and servile fear. Let the laws take cognizance 
+rather of the injury done to another man’s property, than of that done to 
+one’s own person. If a man be a nuisance to his neighbour, or injure his 
+property, family, or person, let him be actionable; but in his own affairs 
+let every one with impunity do what he will in company with his own 
+family, and with those who willingly join him. Let there be a plentiful 
+supply of public prostitutes for every one who wishes to use them, but 
+
+
+specially for those who are too poor to keep one for their private use. Let 
+there be erected houses of the largest and most ornate description: in 
+these let there be provided the most sumptuous banquets, where every 
+one who pleases may, by day or night, play, drink, vomit,28 dissipate. 
+Let there be everywhere heard the rustling of dancers, the loud, 
+immodest laughter of the theatre; let a succession of the most cruel and 
+the most voluptuous pleasures maintain a perpetual excitement. If such 
+happiness is distasteful to any, let him be branded as a public enemy; 
+and if any attempt to modify or put an end to it, let him be silenced, 
+banished, put an end to. Let these be reckoned the true gods, who 
+procure for the people this condition of things, and preserve it when 
+once possessed. Let them be worshipped as they wish; let them demand 
+whatever games they please, from or with their own worshippers; only 
+let them secure that such felicity be not imperilled by foe, plague, or 
+disaster of any kind. What sane man would compare a republic such as 
+this, I will not say to the Roman empire, but to the palace of 
+Sardanapalus, the ancient king who was so abandoned to pleasures, that 
+he caused it to be inscribed on his tomb, that now that he was dead, he 
+possessed only those things which he had swallowed and consumed by 
+his appetites while alive? If these men had such a king as this, who, 
+while self-indulgent, should lay no severe restraint on them, they would 
+more enthusiastically consecrate to him a temple and a flamen than the 
+ancient Romans did to Romulus. 
+
+
+21. Cicero’s opinion of the Roman republic 
+
+
+But if our adversaries do not care how foully and disgracefully the 
+Roman republic be stained by corrupt practices, so long only as it holds 
+together and continues in being, and if they therefore pooh-pooh the 
+testimony of Sallust to its “utterly wicked and profligate” condition, 
+what will they make of Cicero’s statement, that even in his time it had 
+become entirely extinct, and that there remained extant no Roman 
+republic at all? He introduces Scipio (the Scipio who had destroyed 
+Carthage) discussing the republic, at a time when already there were 
+presentiments of its speedy ruin by that corruption which Sallust 
+describes. In fact, at the time when the discussion took place, one of the 
+Gracchi, who, according to Sallust, was the first great instigator of 
+seditions, had already been put to death. His death, indeed, is mentioned 
+
+
+in the same book. Now Scipio, in the end of the second book, says: “As, 
+among the different sounds which proceed from lyres, flutes, and the 
+human voice, there must be maintained a certain harmony which a 
+cultivated ear cannot endure to hear disturbed or jarring, but which may 
+be elicited in full and absolute concord by the modulation even of voices 
+very unlike one another; so, where reason is allowed to modulate the 
+diverse elements of the state, there is obtained a perfect concord from 
+the upper, lower, and middle classes as from various sounds; and what 
+musicians call harmony in singing, is concord in matters of state, which 
+is the strictest bond and best security of any republic, and which by no 
+ingenuity can be retained where justice has become extinct.” Then, when 
+he had expatiated somewhat more fully, and had more copiously 
+illustrated the benefits of its presence and the ruinous effects of its 
+absence upon a state, Pilus, one of the company present at the 
+discussion, struck in and demanded that the question should be more 
+thoroughly sifted, and that the subject of justice should be freely 
+discussed for the sake of ascertaining what truth there was in the maxim 
+which was then becoming daily more current, that “the republic cannot 
+be governed without injustice.” Scipio expressed his willingness to have 
+this maxim discussed and sifted, and gave it as his opinion that it was 
+baseless, and that no progress could be made in discussing the republic 
+unless it was established, not only that this maxim, that “the republic 
+cannot be governed without injustice,” was false, but also that the truth 
+is, that it cannot be governed without the most absolute justice. And the 
+discussion of this question, being deferred till the next day, is carried on 
+in the third book with great animation. For Pilus himself undertook to 
+defend the position that the republic cannot be governed without 
+injustice, at the same time being at special pains to clear himself of any 
+real participation in that opinion. He advocated with great keenness the 
+cause of injustice against justice, and endeavoured by plausible reasons 
+and examples to demonstrate that the former is beneficial, the latter 
+useless, to the republic. Then, at the request of the company, Lelius 
+attempted to defend justice, and strained every nerve to prove that 
+nothing is so hurtful to a state as injustice; and that without justice a 
+republic can neither be governed, nor even continue to exist. 
+
+When this question has been handled to the satisfaction of the 
+company, Scipio reverts to the original thread of discourse, and repeats 
+
+
+with commendation his own brief definition of a republic, that it is the 
+weal of the people. “The people” he defines as being not every 
+assemblage or mob, but an assemblage associated by a common 
+acknowledgment of law, and by a community of interests. Then he 
+shows the use of definition in debate; and from these definitions of his 
+own he gathers that a republic, or “weal of the people,” then exists only 
+when it is well and justly governed, whether by a monarch, or an 
+aristocracy, or by the whole people. But when the monarch is unjust, or, 
+as the Greeks say, a tyrant; or the aristocrats are unjust, and form a 
+faction; or the people themselves are unjust, and become, as Scipio for 
+want of a better name calls them, themselves the tyrant, then the 
+republic is not only blemished (as had been proved the day before), but 
+by legitimate deduction from those definitions, it altogether ceases to be. 
+For it could not be the people’s weal when a tyrant factiously lorded it 
+over the state; neither would the people be any longer a people if it were 
+unjust, since it would no longer answer the definition of a people—‘“an 
+assemblage associated by a common acknowledgment of law, and by a 
+community of interests.” 
+
+When, therefore, the Roman republic was such as Sallust described it, 
+it was not “utterly wicked and profligate,” as he says, but had altogether 
+ceased to exist, if we are to admit the reasoning of that debate 
+maintained on the subject of the republic by its best representatives. 
+Tully himself, too, speaking not in the person of Scipio or any one else, 
+but uttering his own sentiments, uses the following language in the 
+beginning of the fifth book, after quoting a line from the poet Ennius, in 
+which he said, “Rome’s severe morality and her citizens are her 
+safeguard.” “This verse,” says Cicero, “seems to me to have all the 
+sententious truthfulness of an oracle. For neither would the citizens have 
+availed without the morality of the community, nor would the morality 
+of the commons without outstanding men have availed either to 
+establish or so long to maintain in vigour so grand a republic with so 
+wide and just an empire. Accordingly, before our day, the hereditary 
+usages formed our foremost men, and they on their part retained the 
+usages and institutions of their fathers. But our age, receiving the 
+republic as a chef-d’ceuvre of another age which has already begun to 
+grow old, has not merely neglected to restore the colours of the original, 
+but has not even been at the pains to preserve so much as the general 
+
+
+outline and most outstanding features. For what survives of that 
+primitive morality which the poet called Rome’s safeguard? It is so 
+obsolete and forgotten, that, far from practising it, one does not even 
+know it. And of the citizens what shall I say? Morality has perished 
+through poverty of great men; a poverty for which we must not only 
+assign a reason, but for the guilt of which we must answer as criminals 
+charged with a capital crime. For it is through our vices, and not by any 
+mishap, that we retain only the name of a republic, and have long since 
+lost the reality.” 
+
+This is the confession of Cicero, long indeed after the death of 
+Africanus, whom he introduced as an interlocutor in his work De 
+Republica, but still before the coming of Christ. Yet, if the disasters he 
+bewails had been lamented after the Christian religion had been 
+diffused, and had begun to prevail, is there a man of our adversaries 
+who would not have thought that they were to be imputed to the 
+Christians? Why, then, did their gods not take steps then to prevent the 
+decay and extinction of that republic, over the loss of which Cicero, long 
+before Christ had come in the flesh, sings so lugubrious a dirge? Its 
+admirers have need to inquire whether, even in the days of primitive 
+men and morals, true justice flourished in it; or was it not perhaps even 
+then, to use the casual expression of Cicero, rather a coloured painting 
+than the living reality? But, if God will, we shall consider this elsewhere. 
+For I mean in its own place to show that—according to the definitions in 
+which Cicero himself, using Scipio as his mouthpiece, briefly 
+propounded what a republic is, and what a people is, and according to 
+many testimonies, both of his own lips and of those who took part in 
+that same debate—Rome never was a republic, because true justice had 
+never a place in it. But accepting the more feasible definitions of a 
+republic, I grant there was a republic of a certain kind, and certainly 
+much better administered by the more ancient Romans than by their 
+modern representatives. But the fact is, true justice has no existence save 
+in that republic whose founder and ruler is Christ, if at least any choose 
+to call this a republic; and indeed we cannot deny that it is the people’s 
+weal. But if perchance this name, which has become familiar in other 
+connections, be considered alien to our common parlance, we may at all 
+events say that in this city is true justice; the city of which Holy 
+Scripture says, “Glorious things are said of thee, O city of God.” 
+
+
+22. That the Roman gods never took any steps to prevent the republic from being ruined by 
+
+
+immorality 
+
+
+But what is relevant to the present question is this, that however 
+admirable our adversaries say the republic was or is, it is certain that by 
+the testimony of their own most learned writers it had become, long 
+before the coming of Christ, utterly wicked and dissolute, and indeed 
+had no existence, but had been destroyed by profligacy. To prevent this, 
+surely these guardian gods ought to have given precepts of morals and a 
+rule of life to the people by whom they were worshipped in so many 
+temples, with so great a variety of priests and sacrifices, with such 
+numberless and diverse rites, so many festal solemnities, so many 
+celebrations of magnificent games. But in all this the demons only 
+looked after their own interest, and cared not at all how their 
+worshippers lived, or rather were at pains to induce them to lead an 
+abandoned life, so long as they paid these tributes to their honour, and 
+regarded them with fear. If any one denies this, let him produce, let him 
+point to, let him read the laws which the gods had given against 
+sedition, and which the Gracchi transgressed when they threw 
+everything into confusion; or those Marius, and Cinna, and Carbo broke 
+when they involved their country in civil wars, most iniquitous and 
+unjustifiable in their causes, cruelly conducted, and yet more cruelly 
+terminated; or those which Sylla scorned, whose life, character, and 
+deeds, as described by Sallust and other historians, are the abhorrence of 
+all mankind. Who will deny that at that time the republic had become 
+extinct? 
+
+Possibly they will be bold enough to suggest in defence of the gods, 
+that they abandoned the city on account of the profligacy of the citizens, 
+according to the lines of Virgil: 
+
+
+“Gone from each fane, each sacred shrine, 
+
+
+Are those who made this realm divine.”22 
+
+
+But, firstly, if it be so, then they cannot complain against the Christian 
+religion, as if it were that which gave offence to the gods and caused 
+them to abandon Rome, since the Roman immorality had long ago 
+driven from the altars of the city a cloud of little gods, like as many flies. 
+And yet where was this host of divinities, when, long before the 
+
+
+corruption of the primitive morality, Rome was taken and burnt by the 
+Gauls? Perhaps they were present, but asleep? For at that time the whole 
+city fell into the hands of the enemy, with the single exception of the 
+Capitoline hill; and this too would have been taken, had not—the 
+watchful geese aroused the sleeping gods! And this gave occasion to the 
+festival of the goose, in which Rome sank nearly to the superstition of 
+the Egyptians, who worship beasts and birds. But of these adventitious 
+evils which are inflicted by hostile armies or by some disaster, and 
+which attach rather to the body than the soul, I am not meanwhile 
+disputing. At present I speak of the decay of morality, which at first 
+almost imperceptibly lost its brilliant hue, but afterwards was wholly 
+obliterated, was swept away as by a torrent, and involved the republic in 
+such disastrous ruin, that though the houses and walls remained 
+standing, the leading writers do not scruple to say that the republic was 
+destroyed. Now, the departure of the gods “from each fane, each sacred 
+shrine,” and their abandonment of the city to destruction, was an act of 
+justice, if their laws inculcating justice and a moral life had been held in 
+contempt by that city. But what kind of gods were these, pray, who 
+declined to live with a people who worshipped them, and whose corrupt 
+life they had done nothing to reform? 
+
+
+23. That the vicissitudes of this life are dependent not on the favour or hostility of demons, but 
+on the will of the true God 
+
+
+But, further, is it not obvious that the gods have abetted the fulfilment 
+of men’s desires, instead of authoritatively bridling them? For Marius, a 
+low-born and self-made man, who ruthlessly provoked and conducted 
+civil wars, was so effectually aided by them, that he was seven times 
+consul, and died full of years in his seventh consulship, escaping the 
+hands of Sylla, who immediately afterwards came into power. Why, 
+then, did they not also aid him, so as to restrain him from so many 
+enormities? For if it is said that the gods had no hand in his success, this 
+is no trivial admission, that a man can attain the dearly coveted felicity 
+of this life even though his own gods be not propitious; that men can be 
+loaded with the gifts of fortune as Marius was, can enjoy health, power, 
+wealth, honours, dignity, length of days, though the gods be hostile to 
+him; and that, on the other hand, men can be tormented as Regulus was, 
+with captivity, bondage, destitution, watchings, pain, and cruel death, 
+
+
+though the gods be his friends. To concede this is to make a 
+compendious confession that the gods are useless, and their worship 
+superfluous. If the gods have taught the people rather what goes clean 
+counter to the virtues of the soul, and that integrity of life which meets a 
+reward after death; if even in respect of temporal and transitory 
+blessings they neither hurt those whom they hate nor profit whom they 
+love, why are they worshipped, why are they invoked with such eager 
+homage? Why do men murmur in difficult and sad emergencies, as if the 
+gods had retired in anger? and why, on their account, is the Christian 
+religion injured by the most unworthy calumnies? If in temporal matters 
+they have power either for good or for evil, why did they stand by 
+Marius, the worst of Rome’s citizens, and abandon Regulus, the best? 
+Does this not prove themselves to be most unjust and wicked? And even 
+if it be supposed that for this very reason they are the rather to be feared 
+and worshipped, this is a mistake; for we do not read that Regulus 
+worshipped them less assiduously than Marius. Neither is it apparent 
+that a wicked life is to be chosen, on the ground that the gods are 
+supposed to have favoured Marius more than Regulus. For Metellus, the 
+most highly esteemed of all the Romans, who had five sons in the 
+consulship, was prosperous even in this life; and Catiline, the worst of 
+men, reduced to poverty and defeated in the war his own guilt had 
+aroused, lived and perished miserably. Real and secure felicity is the 
+peculiar possession of those who worship that God by whom alone it can 
+be conferred. 
+
+It is thus apparent, that when the republic was being destroyed by 
+profligate manners, its gods did nothing to hinder its destruction by the 
+direction or correction of its manners, but rather accelerated its 
+destruction by increasing the demoralization and corruption that already 
+existed. They need not pretend that their goodness was shocked by the 
+iniquity of the city, and that they withdrew in anger. For they were 
+there, sure enough; they are detected, convicted: they were equally 
+unable to break silence so as to guide others, and to keep silence so as to 
+conceal themselves. I do not dwell on the fact that the inhabitants of 
+Minturne took pity on Marius, and commended him to the goddess 
+Marica in her grove, that she might give him success in all things, and 
+that from the abyss of despair in which he then lay he forthwith 
+returned unhurt to Rome, and entered the city the ruthless leader of a 
+
+
+ruthless army; and they who wish to know how bloody was his victory, 
+how unlike a citizen, and how much more relentlessly than any foreign 
+foe he acted, let them read the histories. But this, as I said, I do not 
+dwell upon; nor do I attribute the bloody bliss of Marius to, I know not 
+what Minturnian goddess [Marica], but rather to the secret providence 
+of God, that the mouths of our adversaries might be shut, and that they 
+who are not led by passion, but by prudent consideration of events, 
+might be delivered from error. And even if the demons have any power 
+in these matters, they have only that power which the secret decree of 
+the Almighty allots to them, in order that we may not set too great store 
+by earthly prosperity, seeing it is oftentimes vouchsafed even to wicked 
+men like Marius; and that we may not, on the other hand, regard it as an 
+evil, since we see that many good and pious worshippers of the one true 
+God are, in spite of the demons, pre-eminently successful; and, finally, 
+that we may not suppose that these unclean spirits are either to be 
+propitiated or feared for the sake of earthly blessings or calamities: for as 
+wicked men on earth cannot do all they would, so neither can these 
+demons, but only in so far as they are permitted by the decree of Him 
+whose judgments are fully comprehensible, justly reprehensible by none. 
+
+
+24. Of the deeds of Sylla, in which the demons boasted that he had their help 
+
+
+It is certain that Sylla—whose rule was so cruel, that, in comparison 
+with it, the preceding state of things which he came to avenge was 
+regretted—when first he advanced towards Rome to give battle to 
+Marius, found the auspices so favourable when he sacrificed, that, 
+according to Livy’s account, the augur Postumius expressed his 
+willingness to lose his head if Sylla did not, with the help of the gods, 
+accomplish what he designed. The gods, you see, had not departed from 
+“every fane and sacred shrine,” since they were still predicting the issue 
+of these affairs, and yet were taking no steps to correct Sylla himself. 
+Their presages promised him great prosperity, but no threatenings of 
+theirs subdued his evil passions. And then, when he was in Asia 
+conducting the war against Mithridates, a message from Jupiter was 
+delivered to him by Lucius Titius, to the effect that he would conquer 
+Mithridates; and so it came to pass. And afterwards, when he was 
+meditating a return to Rome for the purpose of avenging in the blood of 
+the citizens injuries done to himself and his friends, a second message 
+
+
+from Jupiter was delivered to him by a soldier of the sixth legion, to the 
+effect that it was he who had predicted the victory over Mithridates, and 
+that now he promised to give him power to recover the republic from his 
+enemies, though with great bloodshed. Sylla at once inquired of the 
+soldier what form had appeared to him; and, on his reply, recognised 
+that it was the same as Jupiter had formerly employed to convey to him 
+the assurance regarding the victory over Mithridates. How, then, can the 
+gods be justified in this matter for the care they took to predict these 
+shadowy successes, and for their negligence in correcting Sylla, and 
+restraining him from stirring up a civil war so lamentable and atrocious, 
+that it not merely disfigured, but extinguished, the republic? The truth 
+is, as I have often said, and as Scripture informs us, and as the facts 
+themselves sufficiently indicate, the demons are found to look after their 
+own ends only, that they may be regarded and worshipped as gods, and 
+that men may be induced to offer to them a worship which associates 
+them with their crimes, and involves them in one common wickedness 
+and judgment of God. 
+
+Afterwards, when Sylla had come to Tarentum, and had sacrificed 
+there, he saw on the head of the victim’s liver the likeness of a golden 
+crown. Thereupon the same soothsayer Postumius interpreted this to 
+signify a signal victory, and ordered that he only should eat of the 
+entrails. A little afterwards, the slave of a certain Lucius Pontius cried 
+out, “I am Bellona’s messenger; the victory is yours, Sylla!” Then he 
+added that the Capitol should be burned. As soon as he had uttered this 
+prediction he left the camp, but returned the following day more excited 
+than ever, and shouted, “The Capitol is fired!” And fired indeed it was. 
+This it was easy for a demon both to foresee and quickly to announce. 
+But observe, as relevant to our subject, what kind of gods they are under 
+whom these men desire to live, who blaspheme the Saviour that delivers 
+the wills of the faithful from the dominion of devils. The man cried out 
+in prophetic rapture, “The victory is yours, Sylla!” And to certify that he 
+spoke by a divine spirit, he predicted also an event which was shortly to 
+happen, and which indeed did fall out, in a place from which he in 
+whom this spirit was speaking was far distant. But he never cried, 
+Forbear thy villanies, Sylla!—the villanies which were committed at 
+Rome by that victor to whom a golden crown on the calf’s liver had been 
+shown as the divine evidence of his victory. If such signs as this were 
+
+
+customarily sent by just gods, and not by wicked demons, then certainly 
+the entrails he consulted should rather have given Sylla intimation of the 
+cruel disasters that were to befall the city and himself. For that victory 
+was not so conducive to his exaltation to power, as it was fatal to his 
+ambition; for by it he became so insatiable in his desires, and was 
+rendered so arrogant and reckless by prosperity, that he may be said 
+rather to have inflicted a moral destruction on himself than corporal 
+destruction on his enemies. But these truly woful and deplorable 
+calamities the gods gave him no previous hint of, neither by entrails, 
+augury, dream, nor prediction. For they feared his amendment more 
+than his defeat. Yea, they took good care that this glorious conqueror of 
+his own fellow-citizens should be conquered and led captive by his own 
+infamous vices, and should thus be the more submissive slave of the 
+demons themselves. 
+
+
+25. How powerfully the evil spirits incite men to wicked actions, by giving them the quasi-divine 
+
+
+authority of their example 
+
+
+Now, who does not hereby comprehend—unless he has preferred to 
+imitate such gods rather than by divine grace to withdraw himself from 
+their fellowship—who does not see how eagerly these evil spirits strive 
+by their example to lend, as it were, divine authority to crime? Is not 
+this proved by the fact that they were seen in a wide plain in Campania 
+rehearsing among themselves the battle which shortly after took place 
+there with great bloodshed between the armies of Rome? For at first 
+there were heard loud crashing noises, and afterwards many reported 
+that they had seen for some days together two armies engaged. And 
+when this battle ceased, they found the ground all indented with just 
+such footprints of men and horses as a great conflict would leave. If, 
+then, the deities were veritably fighting with one another, the civil wars 
+of men are sufficiently justified; yet, by the way, let it be observed that 
+such pugnacious gods must be very wicked or very wretched. If, 
+however, it was but a sham-fight, what did they intend by this, but that 
+the civil wars of the Romans should seem no wickedness, but an 
+imitation of the gods? For already the civil wars had begun; and before 
+this, some lamentable battles and execrable massacres had occurred. 
+Already many had been moved by the story of the soldier, who, on 
+stripping the spoils of his slain foe, recognised in the stripped corpse his 
+
+
+own brother, and, with deep curses on civil wars, slew himself there and 
+then on his brother’s body. To disguise the bitterness of such tragedies, 
+and kindle increasing ardour in this monstrous warfare, these malign 
+demons, who were reputed and worshipped as gods, fell upon this plan 
+of revealing themselves in a state of civil war, that no compunction for 
+fellow-citizens might cause the Romans to shrink from such battles, but 
+that the human criminality might be justified by the divine example. By 
+a like craft, too, did these evil spirits command that scenic 
+entertainments, of which I have already spoken, should be instituted and 
+dedicated to them. And in these entertainments the poetical 
+compositions and actions of the drama ascribed such iniquities to the 
+gods, that every one might safely imitate them, whether he believed the 
+gods had actually done such things, or, not believing this, yet perceived 
+that they most eagerly desired to be represented as having done them. 
+And that no one might suppose, that in representing the gods as fighting 
+with one another, the poets had slandered them, and imputed to them 
+unworthy actions, the gods themselves, to complete the deception, 
+confirmed the compositions of the poets by exhibiting their own battles 
+to the eyes of men, not only through actions in the theatres, but in their 
+own persons on the actual field. 
+
+We have been forced to bring forward these facts, because their 
+authors have not scrupled to say and to write that the Roman republic 
+had already been ruined by the depraved moral habits of the citizens, 
+and had ceased to exist before the advent of our Lord Jesus Christ. Now 
+this ruin they do not impute to their own gods, though they impute to 
+our Christ the evils of this life, which cannot ruin good men, be they 
+alive or dead. And this they do, though our Christ has issued so many 
+precepts inculcating virtue and restraining vice; while their own gods 
+have done nothing whatever to preserve that republic that served them, 
+and to restrain it from ruin by such precepts, but have rather hastened 
+its destruction, by corrupting its morality through their pestilent 
+example. No one, I fancy, will now be bold enough to say that the 
+republic was then ruined because of the departure of the gods “from 
+each fane, each sacred shrine,” as if they were the friends of virtue, and 
+were offended by the vices of men. No, there are too many presages 
+from entrails, auguries, soothsayings, whereby they boastingly 
+proclaimed themselves prescient of future events and controllers of the 
+
+
+fortune of war—all of which prove them to have been present. And had 
+they been indeed absent, the Romans would never in these civil wars 
+have been so far transported by their own passions as they were by the 
+instigations of these gods. 
+
+
+26. That the demons gave in secret certain obscure instructions in morals, while in public their 
+
+
+own solemnities inculcated all wickedness 
+
+
+Seeing that this is so—seeing that the filthy and cruel deeds, the 
+disgraceful and criminal actions of the gods, whether real or feigned, 
+were at their own request published, and were consecrated, and 
+dedicated in their honour as sacred and stated solemnities; seeing they 
+vowed vengeance on those who refused to exhibit them to the eyes of 
+all, that they might be proposed as deeds worthy of imitation, why is it 
+that these same demons, who, by taking pleasure in such obscenities, 
+acknowledge themselves to be unclean spirits, and by delighting in their 
+own villanies and iniquities, real or imaginary, and by requesting from 
+the immodest, and extorting from the modest, the celebration of these 
+licentious acts, proclaim themselves instigators to a criminal and lewd 
+life;—why, I ask, are they represented as giving some good moral 
+precepts to a few of their own elect, initiated in the secrecy of their 
+shrines? If it be so, this very thing only serves further to demonstrate the 
+malicious craft of these pestilent spirits. For so great is the influence of 
+probity and chastity, that all men, or almost all men, are moved by the 
+praise of these virtues; nor is any man so depraved by vice, but he hath 
+some feeling of honour left in him. So that, unless the devil sometimes 
+transformed himself, as Scripture says, into an angel of light,3° he could 
+not compass his deceitful purpose. Accordingly, in public, a bold 
+impurity fills the ear of the people with noisy clamour; in private, a 
+feigned chastity speaks in scarce audible whispers to a few: an open 
+stage is provided for shameful things, but on the praiseworthy the 
+curtain falls: grace hides, disgrace flaunts: a wicked deed draws an 
+overflowing house, a virtuous speech finds scarce a hearer, as though 
+purity were to be blushed at, impurity boasted of. Where else can such 
+confusion reign, but in devils’ temples? Where, but in the haunts of 
+deceit? For the secret precepts are given as a sop to the virtuous, who 
+are few in number; the wicked examples are exhibited to encourage the 
+vicious, who are countless. 
+
+
+Where and when those initiated in the mysteries of Coelestis received 
+any good instructions, we know not. What we do know is, that before 
+her shrine, in which her image is set, and amidst a vast crowd gathering 
+from all quarters, and standing closely packed together, we were 
+intensely interested spectators of the games which were going on, and 
+saw, as we pleased to turn the eye, on this side a grand display of 
+harlots, on the other the virgin goddess: we saw this virgin worshipped 
+with prayer and with obscene rites. There we saw no shamefaced mimes, 
+no actress overburdened with modesty: all that the obscene rites 
+demanded was fully complied with. We were plainly shown what was 
+pleasing to the virgin deity, and the matron who witnessed the spectacle 
+returned home from the temple a wiser woman. Some, indeed, of the 
+more prudent women turned their faces from the immodest movements 
+of the players, and learned the art of wickedness by a furtive regard. For 
+they were restrained, by the modest demeanour due to men, from 
+looking boldly at the immodest gestures; but much more were they 
+restrained from condemning with chaste heart the sacred rites of her 
+whom they adored. And yet this licentiousness—which, if practised in 
+one’s home, could only be done there in secret—was practised as a 
+public lesson in the temple; and if any modesty remained in men, it was 
+occupied in marvelling that wickedness which men could not 
+unrestrainedly commit should be part of the religious teaching of the 
+gods, and that to omit its exhibition should incur the anger of the gods. 
+What spirit can that be, which by a hidden inspiration stirs men’s 
+corruption, and goads them to adultery, and feeds on the full-fledged 
+iniquity, unless it be the same that finds pleasure in such religious 
+ceremonies, sets in the temples images of devils, and loves to see in play 
+the images of vices; that whispers in secret some righteous sayings to 
+deceive the few who are good, and scatters in public invitations to 
+profligacy, to gain possession of the millions who are wicked? 
+
+
+27. That the obscenities of those plays which the Romans consecrated in order to propitiate their 
+gods, contributed largely to the overthrow of public order 
+
+
+Cicero, a weighty man, and a philosopher in his way, when about to 
+be made edile, wished the citizens to understand?! that, among the other 
+duties of his magistracy, he must propitiate Flora by the celebration of 
+games. And these games are reckoned devout in proportion to their 
+
+
+lewdness. In another place,32 and when he was now consul, and the state 
+in great peril, he says that games had been celebrated for ten days 
+together, and that nothing had been omitted which could pacify the 
+gods: as if it had not been more satisfactory to irritate the gods by 
+temperance, than to pacify them by debauchery; and to provoke their 
+hate by honest living, than soothe it by such unseemly grossness. For no 
+matter how cruel was the ferocity of those men who were threatening 
+the state, and on whose account the gods were being propitiated: it 
+could not have been more hurtful than the alliance of gods who were 
+won with the foulest vices. To avert the danger which threatened men’s 
+bodies, the gods were conciliated in a fashion that drove virtue from 
+their spirits; and the gods did not enrol themselves as defenders of the 
+battlements against the besiegers, until they had first stormed and 
+sacked the morality of the citizens. This propitiation of such divinities— 
+a propitiation so wanton, so impure, so immodest, so wicked, so filthy, 
+whose actors the innate and praiseworthy virtue of the Romans disabled 
+from civic honours, erased from their tribe, recognised as polluted and 
+made infamous;—this propitiation, I say, so foul, so detestable, and alien 
+from every religious feeling, these fabulous and ensnaring accounts of 
+the criminal actions of the gods, these scandalous actions which they 
+either shamefully and wickedly committed, or more shamefully and 
+wickedly feigned, all this the whole city learned in public both by the 
+words and gestures of the actors. They saw that the gods delighted in the 
+commission of these things, and therefore believed that they wished 
+them not only to be exhibited to them, but to be imitated by themselves. 
+But as for that good and honest instruction which they speak of, it was 
+given in such secrecy, and to so few (if indeed given at all), that they 
+seemed rather to fear it might be divulged, than that it might not be 
+practised. 
+
+
+28. That the Christian religion is health-giving 
+
+
+They, then, are but abandoned and ungrateful wretches, in deep and 
+fast bondage to that malign spirit, who complain and murmur that men 
+are rescued by the name of Christ from the hellish thraldom of these 
+unclean spirits, and from a participation in their punishment, and are 
+brought out of the night of pestilential ungodliness into the light of most 
+healthful piety. Only such men could murmur that the masses flock to 
+
+
+the churches and their chaste acts of worship, where a seemly separation 
+of the sexes is observed; where they learn how they may so spend this 
+earthly life, as to merit a blessed eternity hereafter; where Holy 
+Scripture and instruction in righteousness are proclaimed from a raised 
+platform in presence of all, that both they who do the word may hear to 
+their salvation, and they who do it not may hear to judgment. And 
+though some enter who scoff at such precepts, all their petulance is 
+either quenched by a sudden change, or is restrained through fear or 
+shame. For no filthy and wicked action is there set forth to be gazed at 
+or to be imitated; but either the precepts of the true God are 
+recommended, His miracles narrated, His gifts praised, or His benefits 
+implored. 
+
+
+29. An exhortation to the Romans to renounce paganism 
+
+
+This, rather, is the religion worthy of your desires, O admirable 
+Roman race—the progeny of your Scevolas and Scipios, of Regulus, and 
+of Fabricius. This rather covet, this distinguish from that foul vanity and 
+crafty malice of the devils. If there is in your nature any eminent virtue, 
+only by true piety is it purged and perfected, while by impiety it is 
+wrecked and punished. Choose now what you will pursue, that your 
+praise may be not in yourself, but in the true God, in whom is no error. 
+For of popular glory you have had your share; but by the secret 
+providence of God, the true religion was not offered to your choice. 
+Awake, it is now day; as you have already awaked in the persons of 
+some in whose perfect virtue and sufferings for the true faith we glory: 
+for they, contending on all sides with hostile powers, and conquering 
+them all by bravely dying, have purchased for us this country of ours 
+with their blood; to which country we invite you, and exhort you to add 
+yourselves to the number of the citizens of this city, which also has a 
+sanctuary?3 of its own in the true remission of sins. Do not listen to those 
+degenerate sons of thine who slander Christ and Christians, and impute 
+to them these disastrous times, though they desire times in which they 
+may enjoy rather impunity for their wickedness than a peaceful life. 
+Such has never been Rome’s ambition even in regard to her earthly 
+country. Lay hold now on the celestial country, which is easily won, and 
+in which you will reign truly and for ever. For there shalt thou find no 
+vestal fire, no Capitoline stone, but the one true God 
+
+
+“No date, no goal will here ordain: 
+
+
+But grant an endless, boundless reign.”34 
+
+
+No longer, then, follow after false and deceitful gods; abjure them 
+rather, and despise them, bursting forth into true liberty. Gods they are 
+not, but malignant spirits, to whom your eternal happiness will be a sore 
+punishment. Juno, from whom you deduce your origin according to the 
+flesh, did not so bitterly grudge Rome’s citadels to the Trojans, as these 
+devils whom yet ye repute gods, grudge an everlasting seat to the race of 
+mankind. And thou thyself hast in no wavering voice passed judgment 
+on them, when thou didst pacify them with games, and yet didst account 
+as infamous the men by whom the plays were acted. Suffer us, then, to 
+assert thy freedom against the unclean spirits who had imposed on thy 
+neck the yoke of celebrating their own shame and filthiness. The actors 
+of these divine crimes thou hast removed from offices of honour; 
+supplicate the true God, that He may remove from thee those gods who 
+delight in their crimes—a most disgraceful thing if the crimes are really 
+theirs, and a most malicious invention if the crimes are feigned. Well 
+done, in that thou hast spontaneously banished from the number of your 
+citizens all actors and players. Awake more fully: the majesty of God 
+cannot be propitiated by that which defiles the dignity of man. How, 
+then, can you believe that gods who take pleasure in such lewd plays, 
+belong to the number of the holy powers of heaven, when the men by 
+whom these plays are acted are by yourselves refused admission into the 
+number of Roman citizens even of the lowest grade? Incomparably more 
+glorious than Rome, is that heavenly city in which for victory you have 
+truth; for dignity, holiness; for peace, felicity; for life, eternity. Much less 
+does it admit into its society such gods, if thou dost blush to admit into 
+thine such men. Wherefore, if thou wouldst attain to the blessed city, 
+shun the society of devils. They who are propitiated by deeds of shame, 
+are unworthy of the worship of right-hearted men. Let these, then, be 
+obliterated from your worship by the cleansing of the Christian religion, 
+as those men were blotted from your citizenship by the censor’s mark. 
+
+But, so far as regards carnal benefits, which are the only blessings the 
+wicked desire to enjoy, and carnal miseries, which alone they shrink 
+from enduring, we will show in the following book that the demons have 
+not the power they are supposed to have; and although they had it, we 
+
+
+ought rather on that account to despise these blessings, than for the sake 
+of them to worship those gods, and by worshipping them to miss the 
+attainment of these blessings they grudge us. But that they have not even 
+this power which is ascribed to them by those who worship them for the 
+sake of temporal advantages, this, I say, I will prove in the following 
+book; so let us here close the present argument. 
+
+1 Ps. xciv. 4. 
+
+2 2 Tim. iii. 7. 
+
+3“Pluvia defit, causa Christiani.” Similar accusations and similar replies may be seen in the 
+celebrated passage of Tertullian’s Apol. c. 40, and in the eloquent exordium of Arnobius, C. 
+Gentes. 
+
+4 Augustine is supposed to refer to Symmachus, who similarly accused the Christians in his 
+address to the Emperor Valentinianus in the year 384. At Augustine’s request, Paulus Orosius 
+
+
+wrote his history in confutation of Symmachus’ charges. 
+
+
+° Tertullian (Apol. c. 24) mentions Ccelestis as specially worshipped in Africa. Augustine 
+mentions her again in the 26th chapter of this book, and in other parts of his works. 
+
+6 Berecynthia is one of the many names of Rhea or Cybele. Livy (xxix. 11) relates that the image 
+of Cybele was brought to Rome the day before the ides of April, which was accordingly dedicated 
+as her feast-day. The image, it seems, had to be washed in the stream Almon, a tributary of the 
+Tiber, before being placed in the temple of Victory; and each year, as the festival returned, the 
+washing was repeated with much pomp at the same spot. Hence Lucan’s line (i. 600), ‘Et lotam 
+
+
+parvo revocant Almone Cybelen,’ and the elegant verses of Ovid, Fast. iv. 337 et seq. 
+7 “Fercula,” dishes, or courses. 
+
+8 See Cicero, De Nat. Deor. ii. 24. 
+
+9 Prov. vi. 26. 
+
+
+10 Fugalia. Vives is uncertain to what feast Augustine refers. Censorinus understands him to refer 
+to a feast celebrating the expulsion of the kings from Rome. This feast, however (celebrated on 
+the 24th February), was commonly called “Regifugium.” 
+
+11 Persius, Sat. iii. 66-72. 
+
+12 See below, books viii.-xii. 
+
+13 “Galli,” the castrated priests of Cybele, who were named after the river Gallus, in Phrygia, the 
+water of which was supposed to intoxicate or madden those who drank it. According to Vitruvius 
+(viii. 3), there was a similar fountain in Paphlagonia. Apuleius (Golden Ass, viii.) gives a graphic 
+
+
+and humorous description of the dress, dancing, and imposture of these priests; mentioning, 
+
+
+among other things, that they lashed themselves with whips and cut themselves with knives till 
+the ground was wet with blood. 
+
+14 Persius, Sat. iii. 37. 
+
+15 Ter, Eun. iii. 5. 36; and cf. the similar allusion in Aristoph. Clouds, 1033—4. It may be added 
+that the argument of this chapter was largely used by the wiser of the heathen themselves. 
+Dionysius Hal. (ii. 20) and Seneca (De Brev. Vit. c. xvi.) make the very same complaint; and it 
+will be remembered that his adoption of this reasoning was one of the grounds on which 
+
+
+Euripides was suspected of atheism. 
+16 This sentence recalls Augustine’s own experience as a boy, which he bewails in his Confessions. 
+17 Labeo, a jurist of the time of Augustus, learned in law and antiquities, and the author of 
+
+
+several works much prized by his own and some succeeding ages. The two articles in Smith’s 
+
+
+Dictionary on Antistius and Cornelius Labeo should be read. 
+
+18 “Lectisternia,” feasts in which the images of the gods were laid on pillows in the streets, and 
+all kinds of food set before them. 
+
+19 According to Livy (vii. 2), theatrical exhibitions were introduced in the year 392 A.U.C. Before 
+that time, he says, there had only been the games of the circus. The Romans sent to Etruria for 
+players, who were called “histriones,” “hister” being the Tuscan word for a player. Other 
+particulars are added by Livy. 
+
+20 See the Republic, book iii. 
+
+21 Comp. Tertullian, De Spectac. c. 22. 
+
+22 The Egyptian gods represented with dogs’ heads, called by Lucan (viii. 832) semicanes deos. 
+
+
+23 The Fever had, according to Vives, three altars in Rome. See Cicero, De Nat. Deor. iii. 25, and 
+A‘lian Var. Hist. xii. 11. 
+
+24 Cicero, De Republica, v. Compare the third Tusculan Queest. c. ii. 
+
+25 In the year A.U. 299, three ambassadors were sent from Rome to Athens to copy Solon’s laws, 
+and acquire information about the institutions of Greece. On their return the Decemviri were 
+appointed to draw up a code; and finally, after some tragic interruptions, the celebrated Twelve 
+Tables were accepted as the fundamental statutes of Roman law (fons universi publici privatique 
+juris). These were graven on brass, and hung up for public information. Livy, iii. 31-34. 
+
+26 Possibly he refers to Plautus’ Persa, iv. 4. 11-14. 
+
+27 Sallust, Cat. Con. ix. Compare the similar saying of Tacitus regarding the chastity of the 
+Germans: “Plusque ibi boni mores valent, quam alibi bone leges” (Germ. xix.). 
+
+28 The same collocation of words is used by Cicero with reference to the well-known mode of 
+
+
+renewing the appetite in use among the Romans. 
+
+
+29 Aineid, ii. 351-2. 
+
+30 2 Cor. xi. 14. 
+
+31 Cicero, C. Verrem, vi. 8. 
+
+32 Cicero. C. Catilinam, iii. 8. 
+
+33 Alluding to the sanctuary given to all who fled to Rome in its early days. 
+
+
+34 Virgil, Aineid, i. 278. 
+
+
+BOOK THIRD 
+
+
+ARGUMENT 
+
+
+AS IN THE FOREGOING BOOK AUGUSTINE HAS PROVED REGARDING MORAL AND SPIRITUAL CALAMITIES, 
+SO IN THIS BOOK HE PROVES REGARDING EXTERNAL AND BODILY DISASTERS, THAT SINCE THE 
+FOUNDATION OF THE CITY THE ROMANS HAVE BEEN CONTINUALLY SUBJECT TO THEM; AND THAT EVEN 
+WHEN THE FALSE GODS WERE WORSHIPPED WITHOUT A RIVAL, BEFORE THE ADVENT OF CHRIST, THEY 
+
+
+AFFORDED NO RELIEF FROM SUCH CALAMITIES. 
+
+
+1. Of the ills which alone the wicked fear, and which the world continually suffered, even when 
+the gods were worshipped 
+
+
+f moral and spiritual evils, which are above all others to be 
+
+deprecated, I think enough has already been said to show that the 
+false gods took no steps to prevent the people who worshipped them 
+from being overwhelmed by such calamities, but rather aggravated the 
+ruin. I see I must now speak of those evils which alone are dreaded by 
+the heathen—famine, pestilence, war, pillage, captivity, massacre, and 
+the like calamities, already enumerated in the first book. For evil men 
+account those things alone evil which do not make men evil; neither do 
+they blush to praise good things, and yet to remain evil among the good 
+things they praise. It grieves them more to own a bad house than a bad 
+life, as if it were man’s greatest good to have everything good but 
+himself. But not even such evils as were alone dreaded by the heathen 
+were warded off by their gods, even when they were most unrestrictedly 
+worshipped. For in various times and places before the advent of our 
+Redeemer, the human race was crushed with numberless and sometimes 
+incredible calamities; and at that time what gods but those did the world 
+worship, if you except the one nation of the Hebrews, and, beyond them, 
+such individuals as the most secret and most just judgment of God 
+counted worthy of divine grace?! But that I may not be prolix, I will be 
+silent regarding the heavy calamities that have been suffered by any 
+other nations, and will speak only of what happened to Rome and the 
+Roman empire, by which I mean Rome properly so called, and those 
+
+
+lands which already, before the coming of Christ, had by alliance or 
+conquest become, as it were, members of the body of the state. 
+
+
+2. Whether the gods, whom the Greeks and Romans worshipped in common, were justified in 
+permitting the destruction of Ilium 
+
+
+First, then, why was Troy or Ilium, the cradle of the Roman people 
+(for I must not overlook nor disguise what I touched upon in the first 
+book2), conquered, taken, and destroyed by the Greeks, though it 
+esteemed and worshipped the same gods as they? Priam, some answer, 
+paid the penalty of the perjury of his father Laomedon.? Then it is true 
+that Laomedon hired Apollo and Neptune as his workmen. For the story 
+goes that he promised them wages, and then broke his bargain. I wonder 
+that famous diviner Apollo toiled at so huge a work, and never suspected 
+Laomedon was going to cheat him of his pay. And Neptune too, his 
+uncle, brother of Jupiter, king of the sea, it really was not seemly that he 
+should be ignorant of what was to happen. For he is introduced by 
+Homer‘ (who lived and wrote before the building of Rome) as predicting 
+something great of the posterity of Æneas, who in fact founded Rome. 
+And as Homer says, Neptune also rescued Æneas in a cloud from the 
+wrath of Achilles, though (according to Virgils) 
+
+
+“All his will was to destroy 
+
+
+His own creation, perjured Troy.” 
+
+
+Gods, then, so great as Apollo and Neptune, in ignorance of the cheat 
+that was to defraud them of their wages, built the walls of Troy for 
+nothing but thanks and thankless people.© There may be some doubt 
+whether it is not a worse crime to believe such persons to be gods, than 
+to cheat such gods. Even Homer himself did not give full credence to the 
+story; for while he represents Neptune, indeed, as hostile to the Trojans, 
+he introduces Apollo as their champion, though the story implies that 
+both were offended by that fraud. If, therefore, they believe their fables, 
+let them blush to worship such gods; if they discredit the fables, let no 
+more be said of the “Trojan perjury;” or let them explain how the gods 
+hated Trojan, but loved Roman perjury. For how did the conspiracy of 
+Catiline, even in so large and corrupt a city, find so abundant a supply of 
+men whose hands and tongues found them a living by perjury and civic 
+
+
+broils? What else but perjury corrupted the judgments pronounced by so 
+many of the senators? What else corrupted the people’s votes and 
+decisions of all causes tried before them? For it seems that the ancient 
+practice of taking oaths has been preserved even in the midst of the 
+greatest corruption, not for the sake of restraining wickedness by 
+religious fear, but to complete the tale of crimes by adding that of 
+
+
+perjury. 
+3. That the gods could not be offended by the adultery of Paris, this crime being so common 
+
+
+among themselves. 
+
+
+There is no ground, then, for representing the gods (by whom, as they 
+say, that empire stood, though they are proved to have been conquered 
+by the Greeks) as being enraged at the Trojan perjury. Neither, as others 
+again plead in their defence, was it indignation at the adultery of Paris 
+that caused them to withdraw their protection from Troy. For their habit 
+is to be instigators and instructors in vice, not its avengers. “The city of 
+Rome,” says Sallust, “was first built and inhabited, as I have heard, by 
+the Trojans, who, flying their country, under the conduct of Æneas, 
+wandered about without making any settlement.”” If, then, the gods 
+were of opinion that the adultery of Paris should be punished, it was 
+chiefly the Romans, or at least the Romans also, who should have 
+suffered; for the adultery was brought about by Æneas’ mother. But how 
+could they hate in Paris a crime which they made no objection to in 
+their own sister Venus, who (not to mention any other instance) 
+committed adultery with Anchises, and so became the mother of Æneas? 
+Is it because in the one case Menelaus8 was aggrieved, while in the other 
+Vulcan? connived at the crime? For the gods, I fancy, are so little jealous 
+of their wives, that they make no scruple of sharing them with men. But 
+perhaps I may be suspected of turning the myths into ridicule, and not 
+handling so weighty a subject with sufficient gravity. Well, then, let us 
+say that Aineas is not the son of Venus. I am willing to admit it; but is 
+Romulus any more the son of Mars? For why not the one as well as the 
+other? Or is it lawful for gods to have intercourse with women, unlawful 
+for men to have intercourse with goddesses? A hard, or rather an 
+incredible condition, that what was allowed to Mars by the law of 
+Venus, should not be allowed to Venus herself by her own law. However, 
+both cases have the authority of Rome; for Cesar in modern times 
+
+
+believed no less that he was descended from Venus,!9° than the ancient 
+Romulus believed himself the son of Mars. 
+
+
+4. Of Varro’s opinion, that it is useful for men to feign themselves the offspring of the gods 
+
+
+Some one will say, But do you believe all this? Not I indeed. For even 
+Varro, a very learned heathen, all but admits that these stories are false, 
+though he does not boldly and confidently say so. But he maintains it is 
+useful for states that brave men believe, though falsely, that they are 
+descended from the gods; for that thus the human spirit, cherishing the 
+belief of its divine descent, will both more boldly venture into great 
+enterprises, and will carry them out more energetically, and will 
+therefore by its very confidence secure more abundant success. You see 
+how wide a field is opened to falsehood by this opinion of Varro’s, which 
+I have expressed as well as I could in my own words; and how 
+comprehensible it is, that many of the religions and sacred legends 
+should be feigned in a community in which it was judged profitable for 
+the citizens that lies should be told even about the gods themselves. 
+
+
+5. That it is not credible that the gods should have punished the adultery of Paris, seeing they 
+showed no indignation at the adultery of the mother of Romulus 
+
+
+But whether Venus could bear Æneas to a human father Anchises, or 
+Mars beget Romulus of the daughter of Numitor, we leave as unsettled 
+questions. For our own Scriptures suggest the very similar question, 
+whether the fallen angels had sexual intercourse with the daughters of 
+men, by which the earth was at that time filled with giants, that is, with 
+enormously large and strong men. At present, then, I will limit my 
+discussion to this dilemma: If that which their books relate about the 
+mother of Æneas and the father of Romulus be true, how can the gods 
+be displeased with men for adulteries which, when committed by 
+themselves, excite no displeasure? If it is false, not even in this case can 
+the gods be angry that men should really commit adulteries, which, even 
+when falsely attributed to the gods, they delight in. Moreover, if the 
+adultery of Mars be discredited, that Venus also may be freed from the 
+imputation, then the mother of Romulus is left unshielded by the pretext 
+of a divine seduction. For Sylvia was a vestal priestess, and the gods 
+ought to avenge this sacrilege on the Romans with greater severity than 
+Paris’ adultery on the Trojans. For even the Romans themselves in 
+
+
+primitive times used to go so far as to bury alive any vestal who was 
+detected in adultery, while women unconsecrated, though they were 
+punished, were never punished with death for that crime; and thus they 
+more earnestly vindicated the purity of shrines they esteemed divine, 
+than of the human bed. 
+
+
+6. That the gods exacted no penalty for the fratricidal act of Romulus. 
+
+
+I add another instance: If the sins of men so greatly incensed those 
+divinities, that they abandoned Troy to fire and sword to punish the 
+crime of Paris, the murder of Romulus’ brother ought to have incensed 
+them more against the Romans than the cajoling of a Greek husband 
+moved them against the Trojans: fratricide in a newly-born city should 
+have provoked them more than adultery in a city already flourishing. It 
+makes no difference to the question we now discuss, whether Romulus 
+ordered his brother to be slain, or slew him with his own hand; a crime 
+this latter which many shamelessly deny, many through shame doubt, 
+many in grief disguise. And we shall not pause to examine and weigh the 
+testimonies of historical writers on the subject. All agree that the brother 
+of Romulus was slain, not by enemies, not by strangers. If it was 
+Romulus who either commanded or perpetrated this crime, Romulus was 
+more truly the head of the Romans than Paris of the Trojans; why then 
+did he who carried off another man’s wife bring down the anger of the 
+gods on the Trojans, while he who took his brother’s life obtained the 
+guardianship of those same gods? If, on the other hand, that crime was 
+not wrought either by the hand or will of Romulus, then the whole city 
+is chargeable with it, because it did not see to its punishment, and thus 
+committed, not fratricide, but parricide, which is worse. For both 
+brothers were the founders of that city, of which the one was by villany 
+prevented from being a ruler. So far as I see, then, no evil can be 
+ascribed to Troy which warranted the gods in abandoning it to 
+destruction, nor any good to Rome which accounts for the gods visiting 
+it with prosperity; unless the truth be, that they fled from Troy because 
+they were vanquished, and betook themselves to Rome to practise their 
+characteristic deceptions there. Nevertheless they kept a footing for 
+themselves in Troy, that they might deceive future inhabitants who 
+repeopled these lands; while at Rome, by a wider exercise of their 
+malignant arts, they exulted in more abundant honours. 
+
+
+7. Of the destruction of Ilium by Fimbria, a lieutenant of Marius 
+
+
+And surely we may ask what wrong poor Ilium had done, that, in the 
+first heat of the civil wars of Rome, it should suffer at the hand of 
+Fimbria, the veriest villain among Marius’ partisans, a more fierce and 
+cruel destruction than the Grecian sack.!1 For when the Greeks took it 
+many escaped, and many who did not escape were suffered to live, 
+though in captivity. But Fimbria from the first gave orders that not a life 
+should be spared, and burnt up together the city and all its inhabitants. 
+Thus was Ilium requited, not by the Greeks, whom she had provoked by 
+wrong-doing; but by the Romans, who had been built out of her ruins; 
+while the gods, adored alike of both sides, did simply nothing, or, to 
+speak more correctly, could do nothing. Is it then true, that at this time 
+also, after Troy had repaired the damage done by the Grecian fire, all 
+the gods by whose help the kingdom stood, “forsook each fane, each 
+sacred shrine?” 
+
+But if so, I ask the reason; for in my judgment, the conduct of the gods 
+was as much to be reprobated as that of the townsmen to be applauded. 
+For these closed their gates against Fimbria, that they might preserve the 
+city for Sylla, and were therefore burnt and consumed by the enraged 
+general. Now, up to this time, Sylla’s cause was the more worthy of the 
+two; for till now he used arms to restore the republic, and as yet his 
+good intentions had met with no reverses. What better thing, then, could 
+the Trojans have done? What more honourable, what more faithful to 
+Rome, or more worthy of her relationship, than to preserve their city for 
+the better part of the Romans, and to shut their gates against a parricide 
+of his country? It is for the defenders of the gods to consider the ruin 
+which this conduct brought on Troy. The gods deserted an adulterous 
+people, and abandoned Troy to the fires of the Greeks, that out of her 
+ashes a chaster Rome might arise. But why did they a second time 
+abandon this same town, allied now to Rome, and not making war upon 
+her noble daughter, but preserving a most stedfast and pious fidelity to 
+Rome’s most justifiable faction? Why did they give her up to be 
+destroyed, not by the Greek heroes, but by the basest of the Romans? Or, 
+if the gods did not favour Sylla’s cause, for which the unhappy Trojans 
+maintained their city, why did they themselves predict and promise Sylla 
+such successes? Must we call them flatterers of the fortunate, rather than 
+
+
+helpers of the wretched? Troy was not destroyed, then, because the gods 
+deserted it. For the demons, always watchful to deceive, did what they 
+could. For, when all the statues were overthrown and burnt together 
+with the town, Livy tells us that only the image of Minerva is said to 
+have been found standing uninjured amidst the ruins of her temple; not 
+that it might be said in their praise, “The gods who made this realm 
+divine,” but that it might not be said in their defence, They are “gone 
+from each fane, each sacred shrine:” for that marvel was permitted to 
+them, not that they might be proved to be powerful, but that they might 
+be convicted of being present. 
+
+
+8. Whether Rome ought to have been entrusted to the Trojan gods? 
+
+
+Where, then, was the wisdom of entrusting Rome to the Trojan gods, 
+who had demonstrated their weakness in the loss of Troy? Will some one 
+say that, when Fimbria stormed Troy, the gods were already resident in 
+Rome? How, then, did the image of Minerva remain standing? Besides, if 
+they were at Rome when Fimbria destroyed Troy, perhaps they were at 
+Troy when Rome itself was taken and set on fire by the Gauls. But as 
+they are very acute in hearing, and very swift in their movements, they 
+came quickly at the cackling of the goose to defend at least the Capitol, 
+though to defend the rest of the city they were too long in being warned. 
+
+
+9. Whether it is credible that the peace during the reign of Numa was brought about by the gods 
+
+
+It is also believed that it was by the help of the gods that the successor 
+of Romulus, Numa Pompilius, enjoyed peace during his entire reign, and 
+shut the gates of Janus, which are customarily kept open!2 during war. 
+And it is supposed he was thus requited for appointing many religious 
+observances among the Romans. Certainly that king would have 
+commanded our congratulations for so rare a leisure, had he been wise 
+enough to spend it on wholesome pursuits, and, subduing a pernicious 
+curiosity, had sought out the true God with true piety. But as it was, the 
+gods were not the authors of his leisure; but possibly they would have 
+deceived him less had they found him busier. For the more disengaged 
+they found him, the more they themselves occupied his attention. Varro 
+informs us of all his efforts, and of the arts he employed to associate 
+these gods with himself and the city; and in its own place, if God will, I 
+shall discuss these matters. Meanwhile, as we are speaking of the 
+
+
+benefits conferred by the gods, I readily admit that peace is a great 
+benefit; but it is a benefit of the true God, which, like the sun, the rain, 
+and other supports of life, is frequently conferred on the ungrateful and 
+wicked. But if this great boon was conferred on Rome and Pompilius by 
+their gods, why did they never afterwards grant it to the Roman empire 
+during even more meritorious periods? Were the sacred rites more 
+efficient at their first institution than during their subsequent 
+celebration? But they had no existence in Numa’s time, until he added 
+them to the ritual; whereas afterwards they had already been celebrated 
+and preserved, that benefit might arise from them. How, then, is it that 
+those forty-three, or as others prefer it, thirty-nine years of Numa’s reign, 
+were passed in unbroken peace, and yet that afterwards, when the 
+worship was established, and the gods themselves, who were invoked by 
+it, were the recognised guardians and patrons of the city, we can with 
+difficulty find during the whole period, from the building of the city to 
+the reign of Augustus, one year—that, viz., which followed the close of 
+the first Punic war—in which, for a marvel, the Romans were able to 
+shut the gates of war?!3 
+
+
+10. Whether it was desirable that the Roman empire should be increased by such a furious 
+succession of wars, when it might have been quiet and safe by following in the peaceful ways of 
+
+
+Numa 
+
+
+Do they reply that the Roman empire could never have been so widely 
+extended, nor so glorious, save by constant and unintermitting wars? A 
+fit argument, truly! Why must a kingdom be distracted in order to be 
+great? In this little world of man’s body, is it not better to have a 
+moderate stature, and health with it, than to attain the huge dimensions 
+of a giant by unnatural torments, and when you attain it to find no rest, 
+but to be pained the more in proportion to the size of your members? 
+What evil would have resulted, or rather what good would not have 
+resulted, had those times continued which Sallust sketched, when he 
+says, “At first the kings (for that was the first title of empire in the 
+world) were divided in their sentiments: part cultivated the mind, others 
+the body: at that time the life of men was led without covetousness; 
+every one was sufficiently satisfied with his own!”!4 Was it requisite, 
+then, for Rome’s prosperity, that the state of things which Virgil 
+reprobates should succeed : 
+
+
+“At length stole on a baser age, 
+And war’s indomitable rage, 
+
+
+And greedy lust of gain?”!5 
+
+
+But obviously the Romans have a plausible defence for undertaking 
+and carrying on such disastrous wars—to wit, that the pressure of their 
+enemies forced them to resist, so that they were compelled to fight, not 
+by any greed of human applause, but by the necessity of protecting life 
+and liberty. Well, let that pass. Here is Sallust’s account of the matter: 
+“For when their state, enriched with laws, institutions, territory, seemed 
+abundantly prosperous and sufficiently powerful, according to the 
+ordinary law of human nature, opulence gave birth to envy. Accordingly, 
+the neighbouring kings and states took arms and assaulted them. A few 
+allies lent assistance; the rest, struck with fear, kept aloof from dangers. 
+But the Romans, watchful at home and in war, were active, made 
+preparations, encouraged one another, marched to meet their enemies— 
+protected by arms their liberty, country, parents. Afterwards, when they 
+had repelled the dangers by their bravery, they carried help to their 
+allies and friends, and procured alliances more by conferring than by 
+receiving favours.”!6 This was to build up Rome’s greatness by 
+honourable means. But, in Numa’s reign, I would know whether the long 
+peace was maintained in spite of the incursions of wicked neighbours, or 
+if these incursions were discontinued that the peace might be 
+maintained? For if even then Rome was harassed by wars, and yet did 
+not meet force with force, the same means she then used to quiet her 
+enemies without conquering them in war, or terrifying them with the 
+onset of battle, she might have used always, and have reigned in peace 
+with the gates of Janus shut. And if this was not in her power, then 
+Rome enjoyed peace not at the will of her gods, but at the will of her 
+neighbours round about, and only so long as they cared to provoke her 
+with no war, unless perhaps these pitiful gods will dare to sell to one 
+man as their favour what lies not in their power to bestow, but in the 
+will of another man. These demons, indeed, in so far as they are 
+permitted, can terrify or incite the minds of wicked men by their own 
+peculiar wickedness. But if they always had this power, and if no action 
+were taken against their efforts by a more secret and higher power, they 
+would be supreme to give peace or the victories of war, which almost 
+
+
+always fall out through some human emotion, and frequently in 
+opposition to the will of the gods, as is proved not only by lying legends, 
+which scarcely hint or signify any grain of truth, but even by Roman 
+history itself. 
+
+
+11. Of the statue of Apollo at Cume, whose tears are supposed to have portended disaster to the 
+
+
+Greeks, whom the god was unable to succour 
+
+
+And it is still this weakness of the gods which is confessed in the story 
+of the Cuman Apollo, who is said to have wept for four days during the 
+war with the Achzans and King Aristonicus. And when the augurs were 
+alarmed at the portent, and had determined to cast the statue into the 
+sea, the old men of Cume interposed, and related that a similar prodigy 
+had occurred to the same image during the wars against Antiochus and 
+against Perseus, and that by a decree of the senate gifts had been 
+presented to Apollo, because the event had proved favourable to the 
+Romans. Then soothsayers were summoned who were supposed to have 
+greater professional skill, and they pronounced that the weeping of 
+Apollo’s image was propitious to the Romans, because Cumz was a 
+Greek colony, and that Apollo was bewailing (and thereby presaging) 
+the grief and calamity that was about to light upon his own land of 
+Greece, from which he had been brought. Shortly afterwards it was 
+reported that King Aristonicus was defeated and made _ prisoner—a 
+defeat certainly opposed to the will of Apollo; and this he indicated by 
+even shedding tears from his marble image. And this shows us that, 
+though the verses of the poets are mythical, they are not altogether 
+devoid of truth, but describe the manners of the demons in a sufficiently 
+fit style. For in Virgil Diana mourned for Camilla,!”7 and Hercules wept 
+for Pallas doomed to die.18 This is perhaps the reason why Numa 
+Pompilius, too, when, enjoying prolonged peace, but without knowing or 
+inquiring from whom he received it, he began in his leisure to consider 
+to what gods he should entrust the safe keeping and conduct of Rome, 
+and not dreaming that the true, almighty, and most high God cares for 
+earthly affairs, but recollecting only that the Trojan gods which Æneas 
+had brought to Italy had been able to preserve neither the Trojan nor 
+Lavinian kingdom founded by Æneas himself, concluded that he must 
+provide other gods as guardians of fugitives and helpers of the weak, and 
+add them to those earlier divinities who had either come over to Rome 
+
+
+with Romulus, or when Alba was destroyed. 
+
+
+12. That the Romans added a vast number of gods to those introduced by Numa, and that their 
+
+
+numbers helped them not at all 
+
+
+But though Pompilius introduced so ample a ritual, yet did not Rome 
+see fit to be content with it. For as yet Jupiter himself had not his chief 
+temple—it being King Tarquin who built the Capitol. And A‘sculapius 
+left Epidaurus for Rome, that in this foremost city he might have a finer 
+field for the exercise of his great medical skill.19 The mother of the gods, 
+too, came I know not whence from Pessinus; it being unseemly that, 
+while her son presided on the Capitoline hill, she herself should lie hid 
+in obscurity. But if she is the mother of all the gods, she not only 
+followed some of her children to Rome, but left others to follow her. I 
+wonder, indeed, if she were the mother of Cynocephalus, who a long 
+while afterwards came from Egypt. Whether also the goddess Fever was 
+her offspring, is a matter for her grandson, A‘sculapius2° to decide. But 
+of whatever breed she be, the foreign gods will not presume, I trust, to 
+call a goddess base-born who is a Roman citizen. Who can number the 
+deities to whom the guardianship of Rome was entrusted? Indigenous 
+and imported, both of heaven, earth, hell, seas, fountains, rivers; and, as 
+Varro says, gods certain and uncertain, male and female: for, as among 
+animals, so among all kinds of gods are there these distinctions. Rome, 
+then, enjoying the protection of such a cloud of deities, might surely 
+have been preserved from some of those great and horrible calamities, of 
+which I can mention but a few. For by the great smoke of her altars she 
+summoned to her protection, as by a beacon-fire, a host of gods, for 
+whom she appointed and maintained temples, altars, sacrifices, priests, 
+and thus offended the true and most high God, to whom alone all this 
+ceremonial is lawfully due. And, indeed, she was more prosperous when 
+she had fewer gods; but the greater she became, the more gods she 
+thought she should have, as the larger ship needs to be manned by a 
+larger crew. I suppose she despaired of the smaller number, under whose 
+protection she had spent comparatively happy days, being able to defend 
+her greatness. For even under the kings (with the exception of Numa 
+Pompilius, of whom I have already spoken), how wicked a 
+contentiousness must have existed to occasion the death of Romulus’ 
+brother! 
+
+
+13. By what right or agreement the Romans obtained their first wives 
+
+
+How is it that neither Juno, who with her husband Jupiter even then 
+cherished 
+
+
+“Rome’s sons, the nation of the gown,”2! 
+
+
+nor Venus herself, could assist the children of the loved Æneas to find 
+wives by some right and equitable means? For the lack of this entailed 
+upon the Romans the lamentable necessity of stealing their wives, and 
+then waging war with their fathers-in-law; so that the wretched women, 
+before they had recovered from the wrong done them by their husbands, 
+were dowried with the blood of their fathers. “But the Romans 
+conquered their neighbours.” Yes; but with what wounds on both sides, 
+and with what sad slaughter of relatives and neighbours! The war of 
+Cæsar and Pompey was the contest of only one father-in-law with one 
+son-in-law; and before it began, the daughter of Cæsar, Pompey’s wife, 
+was already dead. But with how keen and just an accent of grief does 
+Lucan22 exclaim: “I sing that worse than civil war waged in the plains of 
+Emathia, and in which the crime was justified by the victory!” 
+
+The Romans, then, conquered that they might, with hands stained in 
+the blood of their fathers-in-law, wrench the miserable girls from their 
+embrace—girls who dared not weep for their slain parents, for fear of 
+offending their victorious husbands; and while yet the battle was raging, 
+stood with their prayers on their lips, and knew not for whom to utter 
+them. Such nuptials were certainly prepared for the Roman people not 
+by Venus, but Bellona; or possibly that infernal fury Alecto had more 
+liberty to injure them now that Juno was aiding them, than when the 
+prayers of that goddess had excited her against Aineas. Andromache in 
+captivity was happier than these Roman brides. For though she was a 
+slave, yet, after she had become the wife of Pyrrhus, no more Trojans fell 
+by his hand; but the Romans slew in battle the very fathers of the brides 
+they fondled. Andromache, the victor’s captive, could only mourn, not 
+fear, the death of her people. The Sabine women, related to men still 
+combatants, feared the death of their fathers when their husbands went 
+out to battle, and mourned their death as they returned, while neither 
+their grief nor their fear could be freely expressed. For the victories of 
+their husbands, involving the destruction of fellow-townsmen, relatives, 
+brothers, fathers, caused either pious agony or cruel exaltation. 
+
+
+Moreover, as the fortune of war is capricious, some of them lost their 
+husbands by the sword of their parents, while others lost husband and 
+father together in mutual destruction. For the Romans by no means 
+escaped with impunity, but they were driven back within their walls, 
+and defended themselves behind closed gates; and when the gates were 
+opened by guile, and the enemy admitted into the town, the Forum itself 
+was the field of a hateful and fierce engagement of fathers-in-law and 
+sons-in-law. The ravishers were indeed quite defeated, and, flying on all 
+sides to their houses, sullied with new shame their original shameful and 
+lamentable triumph. It was at this juncture that Romulus, hoping no 
+more from the valour of his citizens, prayed Jupiter that they might 
+stand their ground; and from this occasion the god gained the name of 
+Stator. But not even thus would the mischief have been finished, had not 
+the ravished women themselves flashed out with dishevelled hair, and 
+cast themselves before their parents, and thus disarmed their just rage, 
+not with the arms of victory, but with the supplications of filial affection. 
+Then Romulus, who could not brook his own brother as a colleague, was 
+compelled to accept Titus Tatius, king of the Sabines, as his partner on 
+the throne. But how long would he who misliked the fellowship of his 
+own twin-brother endure a stranger? So, Tatius being slain, Romulus 
+remained sole king, that he might be the greater god. See what rights of 
+marriage these were that fomented unnatural wars. These were the 
+Roman leagues of kindred, relationship, alliance, religion. This was the 
+life of the city so abundantly protected by the gods. You see how many 
+severe things might be said on this theme; but our purpose carries us 
+past them, and requires our discourse for other matters. 
+
+
+14. Of the wickedness of the war waged by the Romans against the Albans, and of the victories 
+won by the lust of power 
+
+
+But what happened after Numa’s reign, and under the other kings, 
+when the Albans were provoked into war, with sad results not to 
+themselves alone, but also to the Romans? The long peace of Numa had 
+become tedious; and with what endless slaughter and detriment of both 
+states did the Roman and Alban armies bring it to an end! For Alba, 
+which had been founded by Ascanius, son of Æneas, and which was 
+more properly the mother of Rome than Troy herself, was provoked to 
+battle by Tullus Hostilius, king of Rome, and in the conflict both 
+
+
+inflicted and received such damage, that at length both parties wearied 
+of the struggle. It was then devised that the war should be decided by 
+the combat of three twin-brothers from each army: from the Romans the 
+three Horatii stood forward, from the Albans the three Curiatii. Two of 
+the Horatii were overcome and disposed of by the Curiatii; but by the 
+remaining Horatius the three Curiatii were slain. Thus Rome remained 
+victorious, but with such a sacrifice that only one survivor returned to 
+his home. Whose was the loss on both sides? Whose the grief, but of the 
+offspring of Aeneas, the descendants of Ascanius, the progeny of Venus, 
+the grandsons of Jupiter? For this, too, was a “worse than civil” war, in 
+which the belligerent states were mother and daughter. And to this 
+combat of the three twin-brothers there was added another atrocious 
+and horrible catastrophe. For as the two nations had formerly been 
+friendly (being related and neighbours), the sister of the Horatii had 
+been betrothed to one of the Curiatii; and she, when she saw her brother 
+wearing the spoils of her betrothed, burst into tears, and was slain by 
+her own brother in his anger. To me, this one girl seems to have been 
+more humane than the whole Roman people. I cannot think her to blame 
+for lamenting the man to whom already she had plighted her troth, or, 
+as perhaps she was doing, for grieving that her brother should have slain 
+him to whom he had promised his sister. For why do we praise the grief 
+of Æneas (in Virgil23) over the enemy cut down even by his own hand? 
+Why did Marcellus shed tears over the city of Syracuse, when he 
+recollected, just before he destroyed, its magnificence and meridian 
+glory, and thought upon the common lot of all things? I demand, in the 
+name of humanity, that if men are praised for tears shed over enemies 
+conquered by themselves, a weak girl should not be counted criminal for 
+bewailing her lover slaughtered by the hand of her brother. While, then, 
+that maiden was weeping for the death of her betrothed inflicted by her 
+brother’s hand, Rome was rejoicing that such devastation had been 
+wrought on her mother state, and that she had purchased a victory with 
+such an expenditure of the common blood of herself and the Albans. 
+
+Why allege to me the mere names and words of “glory” and “victory?” 
+Tear off the disguise of wild delusion, and look at the naked deeds: 
+weigh them naked, judge them naked. Let the charge be brought against 
+Alba, as Troy was charged with adultery. There is no such charge, none 
+like it found: the war was kindled only in order that there 
+
+
+“Might sound in languid ears the cry 
+Of Tullus and of victory.”2+ 
+
+
+This vice of restless ambition was the sole motive to that social and 
+parricidal war—a vice which Sallust brands in passing; for when he has 
+spoken with brief but hearty commendation of those primitive times in 
+which life was spent without covetousness, and every one was 
+sufficiently satisfied with what he had, he goes on: “But after Cyrus in 
+Asia, and the Lacedemonians and Athenians in Greece, began to subdue 
+cities and nations, and to account the lust of sovereignty a sufficient 
+ground for war, and to reckon that the greatest glory consisted in the 
+greatest empire;”25 and so on, as I need not now quote. This lust of 
+sovereignty disturbs and consumes the human race with frightful ills. By 
+this lust Rome was overcome when she triumphed over Alba, and 
+praising her own crime, called it glory. For, as our Scriptures say, “the 
+wicked boasteth of his heart’s desire, and blesseth the covetous, whom 
+the Lord abhorreth.”26 Away, then, with these deceitful masks, these 
+deluding whitewashes, that things may be truthfully seen and 
+scrutinized. Let no man tell me that this and the other was a “great” 
+man, because he fought and conquered so and so. Gladiators fight and 
+conquer, and this barbarism has its meed of praise; but I think it were 
+better to take the consequences of any sloth, than to seek the glory won 
+by such arms. And if two gladiators entered the arena to fight, one being 
+father, the other his son, who would endure such a spectacle? who 
+would not be revolted by it? How, then, could that be a glorious war 
+which a daughter-state waged against its mother? Or did it constitute a 
+difference, that the battlefield was not an arena, and that the wide plains 
+were filled with the carcases not of two gladiators, but of many of the 
+flower of two nations; and that those contests were viewed not by the 
+amphitheatre, but by the whole world, and furnished a profane spectacle 
+both to those alive at the time, and to their posterity, so long as the fame 
+of it is handed down? 
+
+Yet those gods, guardians of the Roman empire, and, as it were, 
+theatric spectators of such contests as these, were not satisfied until the 
+sister of the Horatii was added by her brother’s sword as a third victim 
+from the Roman side, so that Rome herself, though she won the day, 
+should have as many deaths to mourn. Afterwards, as a fruit of the 
+
+
+victory, Alba was destroyed, though it was there the Trojan gods had 
+formed a third asylum after Ilium had been sacked by the Greeks, and 
+after they had left Lavinium, where Æneas had founded a kingdom in a 
+land of banishment. But probably Alba was destroyed because from it 
+too the gods had migrated, in their usual fashion, as Virgil says : 
+
+
+“Gone from each fane, each sacred shrine, 
+
+
+Are those who made this realm divine.”27 
+
+
+Gone, indeed, and from now their third asylum, that Rome might seem 
+all the wiser in committing herself to them after they had deserted three 
+other cities. Alba, whose king Amulius had banished his brother, 
+displeased them; Rome, whose king Romulus had slain his brother, 
+pleased them. But before Alba was destroyed, its population, they say, 
+was amalgamated with the inhabitants of Rome, so that the two cities 
+were one. Well, admitting it was so, yet the fact remains that the city of 
+Ascanius, the third retreat of the Trojan gods, was destroyed by the 
+daughter-city. Besides, to effect this pitiful conglomerate of the war’s 
+leavings, much blood was spilt on both sides. And how shall I speak in 
+detail of the same wars, so often renewed in subsequent reigns, though 
+they seemed to have been finished by great victories; and of wars that 
+time after time were brought to an end by great slaughters, and which 
+yet time after time were renewed by the posterity of those who had 
+made peace and struck treaties? Of this calamitous history we have no 
+small proof, in the fact that no subsequent king closed the gates of war; 
+and therefore, with all their tutelar gods, no one of them reigned in 
+peace. 
+
+
+15. What manner of life and death the Roman kings had 
+
+
+And what was the end of the kings themselves? Of Romulus, a 
+flattering legend tells us that he was assumed into heaven. But certain 
+Roman historians relate that he was torn in pieces by the senate for his 
+ferocity, and that a man, Julius Proculus, was suborned to give out that 
+Romulus had appeared to him, and through him commanded the Roman 
+people to worship him as a god; and that in this way the people, who 
+were beginning to resent the action of the senate, were quieted and 
+pacified. For an eclipse of the sun had also happened; and this was 
+
+
+attributed to the divine power of Romulus by the ignorant multitude, 
+who did not know that it was brought about by the fixed laws of the 
+sun’s course: though this grief of the sun might rather have been 
+considered proof that Romulus had been slain, and that the crime was 
+indicated by this deprivation of the sun’s light; as, in truth, was the case 
+when the Lord was crucified through the cruelty and impiety of the 
+Jews. For it is sufficiently demonstrated that this latter obscuration of 
+the sun did not occur by the natural laws of the heavenly bodies, 
+because it was then the Jewish passover, which is held only at full moon, 
+whereas natural eclipses of the sun happen only at the last quarter of the 
+moon. Cicero, too, shows plainly enough that the apotheosis of Romulus 
+was imaginary rather than real, when, even while he is praising him in 
+one of Scipio’s remarks in the De Republica, he says: “Such a reputation 
+had he acquired, that when he suddenly disappeared during an eclipse of 
+the sun, he was supposed to have been assumed into the number of the 
+gods, which could be supposed of no mortal who had not the highest 
+reputation for virtue.”28 By these words, “he suddenly disappeared,” we 
+are to understand that he was mysteriously made away with by the 
+violence either of the tempest or of a murderous assault. For their other 
+writers speak not only of an eclipse, but of a sudden storm also, which 
+certainly either afforded opportunity for the crime, or itself made an end 
+of Romulus. And of Tullus Hostilius, who was the third king of Rome, 
+and who was himself destroyed by lightning, Cicero in the same book 
+says, that “he was not supposed to have been deified by this death, 
+possibly because the Romans were unwilling to vulgarize the promotion 
+they were assured or persuaded of in the case of Romulus, lest they 
+should bring it into contempt by gratuitously assigning it to all and 
+sundry.” In one of his invectives,29 too, he says, in round terms, “The 
+founder of this city, Romulus, we have raised to immortality and divinity 
+by kindly celebrating his services;” implying that his deification was not 
+real, but reputed, and called so by courtesy on account of his virtues. In 
+the dialogue Hortensius, too, while speaking of the regular eclipses of the 
+sun, he says that they “produce the same darkness as covered the death 
+of Romulus, which happened during an eclipse of the sun.” Here you see 
+he does not at all shrink from speaking of his “death,” for Cicero was 
+more of a reasoner than an eulogist. 
+
+The other kings of Rome, too, with the exception of Numa Pompilius 
+
+
+and Ancus Marcius, who died natural deaths, what horrible ends they 
+had! Tullus Hostilius, the conqueror and destroyer of Alba, was, as I 
+said, himself and all his house consumed by lightning. Priscus Tarquinius 
+was slain by his predecessor’s sons. Servius Tullius was foully murdered 
+by his son-in-law Tarquinius Superbus, who succeeded him on the 
+throne. Nor did so flagrant a parricide committed against Rome’s best 
+king drive from their altars and shrines those gods who were said to 
+have been moved by Paris’ adultery to treat poor Troy in this style, and 
+abandon it to the fire and sword of the Greeks. Nay, the very Tarquin 
+who had murdered, was allowed to succeed his father-in-law. And this 
+infamous parricide, during the reign he had secured by murder, was 
+allowed to triumph in many victorious wars, and to build the Capitol 
+from their spoils; the gods meanwhile not departing, but abiding, and 
+abetting, and suffering their king Jupiter to preside and reign over them 
+in that very splendid Capitol, the work of a parricide. For he did not 
+build the Capitol in the days of his innocence, and then suffer 
+banishment for subsequent crimes; but to that reign during which he 
+built the Capitol, he won his way by unnatural crime. And when he was 
+afterwards banished by the Romans, and forbidden the city, it was not 
+for his own but his son’s wickedness in the affair of Lucretia—a crime 
+perpetrated not only without his cognizance, but in his absence. For at 
+that time he was besieging Ardea, and fighting Rome’s battles; and we 
+cannot say what he would have done had he been aware of his son’s 
+crime. Notwithstanding, though his opinion was neither inquired into 
+nor ascertained, the people stripped him of royalty; and when he 
+returned to Rome with his army, it was admitted, but he was excluded, 
+abandoned by his troops, and the gates shut in his face. And yet, after he 
+had appealed to the neighbouring states, and tormented the Romans 
+with calamitous but unsuccessful wars, and when he was deserted by the 
+ally on whom he most depended, despairing of regaining the kingdom, 
+he lived a retired and quiet life for fourteen years, as it is reported, in 
+Tusculum, a Roman town, where he grew old in his wife’s company, and 
+at last terminated his days in a much more desirable fashion than his 
+father-in-law, who had perished by the hand of his son-in-law; his own 
+daughter abetting, if report be true. And this Tarquin the Romans called, 
+not the Cruel, nor the Infamous, but the Proud; their own pride perhaps 
+resenting his tyrannical airs. So little did they make of his murdering 
+
+
+their best king, his own father-in-law, that they elected him their own 
+king. I wonder if it was not even more criminal in them to reward so 
+bountifully so great a criminal. And yet there was no word of the gods 
+abandoning the altars; unless, perhaps, some one will say in defence of 
+the gods, that they remained at Rome for the purpose of punishing the 
+Romans, rather than of aiding and profiting them, seducing them by 
+empty victories, and wearing them out by severe wars. Such was the life 
+of the Romans under the kings during the much-praised epoch of the 
+state which extends to the expulsion of Tarquinius Superbus in the 243d 
+year, during which all those victories, which were bought with so much 
+blood and such disasters, hardly pushed Rome’s dominion twenty miles 
+from the city; a territory which would by no means bear comparison 
+with that of any petty Getulian state. 
+
+
+16. Of the first Roman consuls, the one of whom drove the other from the country, and shortly 
+after perished at Rome by the hand of a wounded enemy, and so ended a career of unnatural 
+
+
+murders 
+
+
+To this epoch let us add also that of which Sallust says, that it was 
+ordered with justice and moderation, while the fear of Tarquin and of a 
+war with Etruria was impending. For so long as the Etrurians aided the 
+efforts of Tarquin to regain the throne, Rome was convulsed with 
+distressing war. And therefore he says that the state was ordered with 
+justice and moderation, through the pressure of fear, not through the 
+influence of equity. And in this very brief period, how calamitous a year 
+was that in which consuls were first created, when the kingly power was 
+abolished! They did not fulfil their term of office. For Junius Brutus 
+deprived his colleague Lucius Tarquinius Collatinus, and banished him 
+from the city; and shortly after he himself fell in battle, at once slaying 
+and slain, having formerly put to death his own sons and his brothers-in- 
+law, because he had discovered that they were conspiring to restore 
+Tarquin. It is this deed that Virgil shudders to record, even while he 
+seems to praise it; for when he says, 
+
+
+“And call his own rebellious seed 
+
+
+For menaced liberty to bleed,” 
+
+
+he immediately exclaims, 
+
+
+“Unhappy father! howsoe’er 
+The deed be judged by after days;” 
+
+
+that is to say, let posterity judge the deed as they please, let them praise 
+and extol the father who slew his sons, he is unhappy. And then he adds, 
+as if to console so unhappy a man : 
+
+
+“His country’s love shall all o’erbear, 
+
+
+And unextinguished thirst of praise.”3° 
+
+
+In the tragic end of Brutus, who slew his own sons, and though he slew 
+his enemy, Tarquin’s son, yet could not survive him, but was survived by 
+Tarquin the elder, does not the innocence of his colleague Collatinus 
+seem to be vindicated, who, though a good citizen, suffered the same 
+punishment as Tarquin himself, when that tyrant was banished? For 
+Brutus himself is said to have been a relative?! of Tarquin. But Collatinus 
+had the misfortune to bear not only the blood, but the name of Tarquin. 
+To change his name, then, not his country, would have been his fit 
+penalty: to abridge his name by this word, and be called simply L. 
+Collatinus. But he was not compelled to lose what he could lose without 
+detriment, but was stripped of the honour of the first consulship, and 
+was banished from the land he loved. Is this, then, the glory of Brutus— 
+this injustice, alike detestable and profitless to the republic? Was it to 
+this he was driven by “his country’s love, and unextinguished thirst of 
+praise?” 
+
+When Tarquin the tyrant was expelled, L. Tarquinius Collatinus, the 
+husband of Lucretia, was created consul along with Brutus. How justly 
+the people acted, in looking more to the character than the name of a 
+citizen! How unjustly Brutus acted, in depriving of honour and country 
+his colleague in that new office, whom he might have deprived of his 
+name, if it were so offensive to him! Such were the ills, such the 
+disasters, which fell out when the government was “ordered with justice 
+and moderation.” Lucretius, too, who succeeded Brutus, was carried off 
+by disease before the end of that same year. So P. Valerius, who 
+succeeded Collatinus, and M. Horatius, who filled the vacancy 
+occasioned by the death of Lucretius, completed that disastrous and 
+funereal year, which had five consuls. Such was the year in which the 
+
+
+Roman republic inaugurated the new honour and office of the 
+consulship. 
+
+
+17. Of the disasters which vexed the Roman republic after the inauguration of the consulship, 
+
+
+and of the non-intervention of the gods of Rome 
+
+
+After this, when their fears were gradually diminished—not because 
+the wars ceased, but because they were not so furious—that period in 
+which things were “ordered with justice and moderation” drew to an 
+end, and there followed that state of matters which Sallust thus briefly 
+sketches: “Then began the patricians to oppress the people as slaves, to 
+condemn them to death or scourging, as the kings had done, to drive 
+them from their holdings, and to tyrannize over those who had no 
+property to lose. The people, overwhelmed by these oppressive 
+measures, and most of all by usury, and obliged to contribute both 
+money and personal service to the constant wars, at length took arms 
+and seceded to Mount Aventine and Mount Sacer, and thus secured for 
+themselves tribunes and protective laws. But it was only the second 
+Punic war that put an end on both sides to discord and strife.”32 But why 
+should I spend time in writing such things, or make others spend it in 
+reading them? Let the terse summary of Sallust suffice to intimate the 
+misery of the republic through all that long period till the second Punic 
+war—how it was distracted from without by unceasing wars, and torn 
+with civil broils and dissensions. So that those victories they boast were 
+not the substantial joys of the happy, but the empty comforts of 
+wretched men, and seductive incitements to turbulent men to concoct 
+disasters upon disasters. And let not the good and prudent Romans be 
+angry at our saying this; and indeed we need neither deprecate nor 
+denounce their anger, for we know they will harbour none. For we speak 
+no more severely than their own authors, and much less elaborately and 
+strikingly; yet they diligently read these authors, and compel their 
+children to learn them. But they who are angry, what would they do to 
+me were I to say what Sallust says? “Frequent mobs, seditions, and at 
+last civil wars, became common, while a few leading men on whom the 
+masses were dependent, affected supreme power under the seemly 
+pretence of seeking the good of senate and people; citizens were judged 
+good or bad, without reference to their loyalty to the republic (for all 
+were equally corrupt); but the wealthy and dangerously powerful were 
+
+
+esteemed good citizens, because they maintained the existing state of 
+things.” Now, if those historians judged that an honourable freedom of 
+speech required that they should not be silent regarding the blemishes of 
+their own state, which they have in many places loudly applauded in 
+their ignorance of that other and true city in which citizenship is an 
+everlasting dignity; what does it become us to do, whose liberty ought to 
+be so much greater, as our hope in God is better and more assured, when 
+they impute to our Christ the calamities of this age, in order that men of 
+the less instructed and weaker sort may be alienated from that city in 
+which alone eternal and blessed life can be enjoyed? Nor do we utter 
+against their gods anything more horrible than their own authors do, 
+whom they read and circulate. For, indeed, all that we have said we 
+have derived from them, and there is much more to say of a worse kind 
+which we are unable to say. 
+
+Where, then, were those gods who are supposed to be justly 
+worshipped for the slender and delusive prosperity of this world, when 
+the Romans, who were seduced to their service by lying wiles, were 
+harassed by such calamities? Where were they when Valerius the consul 
+was killed while defending the Capitol, that had been fired by exiles and 
+slaves? He was himself better able to defend the temple of Jupiter, than 
+that crowd of divinities with their most high and mighty king, whose 
+temple he came to the rescue of, were able to defend him. Where were 
+they when the city, worn out with unceasing seditions, was waiting in 
+some kind of calm for the return of the ambassadors who had been sent 
+to Athens to borrow laws, and was desolated by dreadful famine and 
+pestilence? Where were they when the people, again distressed with 
+famine, created for the first time a prefect of the market; and when 
+Spurius Melius, who, as the famine increased, distributed corn to the 
+famishing masses, was accused of aspiring to royalty, and at the instance 
+of this same prefect, and on the authority of the superannuated dictator 
+L. Quintius, was put to death by Quintus Servilius, master of the horse— 
+an event which occasioned a serious and dangerous riot? Where were 
+they when that very severe pestilence visited Rome, on account of which 
+the people, after long and wearisome and useless supplications of the 
+helpless gods, conceived the idea of celebrating Lectisternia, which had 
+never been done before; that is to say, they set couches in honour of the 
+gods, which accounts for the name of this sacred rite, or rather 
+
+
+sacrilege?33 Where were they when, during ten successive years of 
+reverses, the Roman army suffered frequent and great losses among the 
+Veians, and would have been destroyed but for the succour of Furius 
+Camillus, who was afterwards banished by an ungrateful country? 
+Where were they when the Gauls took, sacked, burned, and desolated 
+Rome? Where were they when that memorable pestilence wrought such 
+destruction, in which Furius Camillus too perished, who first defended 
+the ungrateful republic from the Veians, and afterwards saved it from 
+the Gauls? Nay, during this plague they introduced a new pestilence of 
+scenic entertainments, which spread its more fatal contagion, not to the 
+bodies, but the morals of the Romans? Where were they when another 
+frightful pestilence visited the city—I mean the poisonings imputed to an 
+incredible number of noble Roman matrons, whose characters were 
+infected with a disease more fatal than any plagne? Or when both 
+consuls at the head of the army were beset by the Samnites in the 
+Caudine Forks, and forced to strike a shameful treaty, 600 Roman 
+knights being kept as hostages; while the troops, having laid down their 
+arms, and being stripped of everything, were made to pass under the 
+yoke with one garment each? Or when, in the midst of a serious 
+pestilence, lightning struck the Roman camp and killed many? Or when 
+Rome was driven, by the violence of another intolerable plague, to send 
+to Epidaurus for A‘sculapius as a god of medicine; since the frequent 
+adulteries of Jupiter in his youth had not perhaps left this king of all 
+who so long reigned in the Capitol, any leisure for the study of 
+medicine? Or when, at one time, the Lucanians, Brutians, Samnites, 
+Tuscans, and Senonian Gauls conspired against Rome, and first slew her 
+ambassadors, then overthrew an army under the pretor, putting to the 
+sword 13,000 men, besides the commander and seven tribunes? Or when 
+the people, after the serious and long-continued disturbances at Rome, at 
+last plundered the city and withdrew to Janiculus; a danger so grave, 
+that Hortensius was created dictator—an office which they had recourse 
+to only in extreme emergencies; and he, having brought back the people, 
+died while yet he retained his office—an event without precedent in the 
+case of any dictator, and which was a shame to those gods who had now 
+Aésculapius among them? 
+
+At that time, indeed, so many wars were everywhere engaged in, that 
+through scarcity of soldiers they enrolled for military service the 
+
+
+proletarii, who received this name, because, being too poor to equip for 
+military service, they had leisure to beget offspring.3+ Pyrrhus, king of 
+Greece, and at that time of wide-spread renown, was invited by the 
+Tarentines to enlist himself against Rome. It was to him that Apollo, 
+when consulted regarding the issue of his enterprise, uttered with some 
+pleasantry so ambiguous an oracle, that whichever alternative happened, 
+the god himself should be counted divine. For he so worded the oracle,35 
+that whether Pyrrhus was conquered by the Romans, or the Romans by 
+Pyrrhus, the soothsaying god would securely await the issue. And then 
+what frightful massacres of both armies ensued! Yet Pyrrhus remained 
+conqueror, and would have been able now to proclaim Apollo a true 
+diviner, as he understood the oracle, had not the Romans been the 
+conquerors in the next engagement. And while such disastrous wars 
+were being waged, a terrible disease broke out among the women. For 
+the pregnant women died before delivery. And A‘sculapius, I fancy, 
+excused himself in this matter on the ground that he professed to be 
+arch-physician, not midwife. Cattle, too, similarly perished; so that it 
+was believed that the whole race of animals was destined to become 
+extinct. Then what shall I say of that memorable winter in which the 
+weather was so incredibly severe, that in the Forum frightfully deep 
+snow lay for forty days together, and the Tiber was frozen? Had such 
+things happened in our time, what accusations we should have heard 
+from our enemies! And that other great pestilence, which raged so long 
+and carried off so many; what shall I say of it? Spite of all the drugs of 
+Aésculapius, it only grew worse in its second year, till at last recourse 
+was had to the Sibylline books—a kind of oracle which, as Cicero says in 
+his De Divinatione, owes significance to its interpreters, who make 
+doubtful conjectures as they can or as they wish. In this instance, the 
+cause of the plague was said to be that so many temples had been used 
+as private residences. And thus Aisculapius for the present escaped the 
+charge of either ignominious negligence or want of skill. But why were 
+so many allowed to occupy sacred tenements without interference, 
+unless because supplication had long been addressed in vain to such a 
+crowd of gods, and so by degrees the sacred places were deserted of 
+worshippers, and being thus vacant, could without offence be put at 
+least to some human uses? And the temples, which were at that time 
+laboriously recognised and restored that the plague might be stayed, fell 
+
+
+afterwards into disuse, and were again devoted to the same human uses. 
+Had they not thus lapsed into obscurity, it could not have been pointed 
+to as proof of Varro’s great erudition, that in his work on sacred places 
+he cites so many that were unknown. Meanwhile, the restoration of the 
+temples procured no cure of the plague, but only a fine excuse for the 
+gods. 
+
+
+18. The disasters suffered by the Romans in the Punic wars, which were not mitigated by the 
+
+
+protection of the gods 
+
+
+In the Punic wars, again, when victory hung so long in the balance 
+between the two kingdoms, when two powerful nations were straining 
+every nerve and using all their resources against one another, how many 
+smaller kingdoms were crushed, how many large and flourishing cities 
+were demolished, how many states were overwhelmed and ruined, how 
+many districts and lands far and near were desolated! How often were 
+the victors on either side vanquished! What multitudes of men, both of 
+those actually in arms and of others, were destroyed! What huge navies, 
+too, were crippled in engagements, or were sunk by every kind of 
+marine disaster! Were we to attempt to recount or mention these 
+calamities, we should become writers of history. At that period Rome 
+was mightily perturbed, and resorted to vain and ludicrous expedients. 
+On the authority of the Sibylline books, the secular games were 
+reappointed, which had been inaugurated a century before, but had 
+faded into oblivion in happier times. The games consecrated to the 
+infernal gods were also renewed by the pontiffs; for they, too, had sunk 
+into disuse in the better times. And no wonder; for when they were 
+renewed, the great abundance of dying men made all hell rejoice at its 
+riches, and give itself up to sport: for certainly the ferocious wars, and 
+disastrous quarrels, and bloody victories—now on one side, and now on 
+the other—though most calamitous to men, afforded great sport and a 
+rich banquet to the devils. But in the first Punic war there was no more 
+disastrous event than the Roman defeat in which Regulus was taken. We 
+made mention of him in the two former books as an incontestably great 
+man, who had before conquered and subdued the Carthaginians, and 
+who would have put an end to the first Punic war, had not an inordinate 
+appetite for praise and glory prompted him to impose on the worn-out 
+Carthaginians harder conditions than they could bear. If the unlooked- 
+
+
+for captivity and unseemly bondage of this man, his fidelity to his oath, 
+and his surpassingly cruel death, do not bring a blush to the face of the 
+gods, it is true that they are brazen and bloodless. 
+
+Nor were there wanting at that time very heavy disasters within the 
+city itself. For the Tiber was extraordinarily flooded, and destroyed 
+almost all the lower parts of the city; some buildings being carried away 
+by the violence of the torrent, while others were soaked to rottenness by 
+the water that stood round them even after the flood was gone. This 
+visitation was followed by a fire which was still more destructive, for it 
+consumed some of the loftier buildings round the Forum, and spared not 
+even its own proper temple, that of Vesta, in which virgins chosen for 
+this honour, or rather for this punishment, had been employed in 
+conferring, as it were, everlasting life on fire, by ceaselessly feeding it 
+with fresh fuel. But at the time we speak of, the fire in the temple was 
+not content with being kept alive: it raged. And when the virgins, scared 
+by its vehemence, were unable to save those fatal images which had 
+already brought destruction on three cities36 in which they had been 
+received, Metellus the priest, forgetful of his own safety, rushed in and 
+rescued the sacred things, though he was half roasted in doing so. For 
+either the fire did not recognise even him, or else the goddess of fire was 
+there—a goddess who would not have fled from the fire supposing she 
+had been there. But here you see how a man could be of greater service 
+to Vesta than she could be to him. Now if these gods could not avert the 
+fire from themselves, what help against flames or flood could they bring 
+to the state of which they were the reputed guardians? Facts have shown 
+that they were useless. These objections of ours would be idle if our 
+adversaries maintained that their idols are consecrated rather as symbols 
+of things eternal, than to secure the blessings of time; and that thus, 
+though the symbols, like all material and visible things, might perish, no 
+damage thereby resulted to the things for the sake of which they had 
+been consecrated, while, as for the images themselves, they could be 
+renewed again for the same purposes they had formerly served. But with 
+lamentable blindness, they suppose that, through the intervention of 
+perishable gods, the earthly well-being and temporal prosperity of the 
+state can be preserved from perishing. And so, when they are reminded 
+that even when the gods remained among them this well-being and 
+prosperity were blighted, they blush to change the opinion they are 
+
+
+unable to defend. 
+
+
+19. Of the calamity of the second Punic war, which consumed the strength of both parties 
+
+
+As to the second Punic war, it were tedious to recount the disasters it 
+brought on both the nations engaged in so protracted and shifting a war, 
+that (by the acknowledgment even of those writers who have made it 
+their object not so much to narrate the wars as to eulogize the dominion 
+of Rome) the people who remained victorious were less like conquerors 
+than conquered. For, when Hannibal poured out of Spain over the 
+Pyrenees, and overran Gaul, and burst through the Alps, and during his 
+whole course gathered strength by plundering and subduing as he went, 
+and inundated Italy like a torrent, how bloody were the wars, and how 
+continuous the engagements, that were fought! How often were the 
+Romans vanquished! How many towns went over to the enemy, and how 
+many were taken and subdued! What fearful battles there were, and how 
+often did the defeat of the Romans shed lustre on the arms of Hannibal! 
+And what shall I say of the wonderfully crushing defeat at Cannz, where 
+even Hannibal, cruel as he was, was yet sated with the blood of his 
+bitterest enemies, and gave orders that they be spared? From this field of 
+battle he sent to Carthage three bushels of gold rings, signifying that so 
+much of the rank of Rome had that day fallen, that it was easier to give 
+an idea of it by measure than by numbers; and that the frightful 
+slaughter of the common rank and file whose bodies lay undistinguished 
+by the ring, and who were numerous in proportion to their meanness, 
+was rather to be conjectured than accurately reported. In fact, such was 
+the scarcity of soldiers after this, that the Romans impressed their 
+criminals on the promise of impunity, and their slaves by the bribe of 
+liberty, and out of these infamous classes did not so much recruit as 
+create an army. But these slaves, or, to give them all their titles, these 
+freedmen who were enlisted to do battle for the republic of Rome, 
+lacked arms. And so they took arms from the temples, as if the Romans 
+were saying to their gods: Lay down those arms you have held so long in 
+vain, if by chance our slaves may be able to use to purpose what you, 
+our gods, have been impotent to use. At that time, too, the public 
+treasury was too low to pay the soldiers, and private resources were used 
+for public purposes; and so generously did individuals contribute of their 
+property, that, saving the gold ring and bulla which each wore, the 
+
+
+pitiful mark of his rank, no senator, and much less any of the other 
+orders and tribes, reserved any gold for his own use. But if in our day 
+they were reduced to this poverty, who would be able to endure their 
+reproaches, barely endurable as they are now, when more money is 
+spent on actors for the sake of a superfluous gratification, than was then 
+disbursed to the legions? 
+
+
+20. Of the destruction of the Saguntines, who received no help from the Roman gods, though 
+perishing on account of their fidelity to Rome 
+
+
+But among all the disasters of the second Punic war, there occurred 
+none more lamentable, or calculated to excite deeper complaint, than 
+the fate of the Saguntines. This city of Spain, eminently friendly to 
+Rome, was destroyed by its fidelity to the Roman people. For when 
+Hannibal had broken treaty with the Romans, he sought occasion for 
+provoking them to war, and accordingly made a fierce assault upon 
+Saguntum. When this was reported at Rome, ambassadors were sent to 
+Hannibal, urging him to raise the siege; and when this remonstrance was 
+neglected, they proceeded to Carthage, lodged complaint against the 
+breaking of the treaty, and returned to Rome without accomplishing 
+their object. Meanwhile the siege went on; and in the eighth or ninth 
+month, this opulent but ill-fated city, dear as it was to its own state and 
+to Rome, was taken, and subjected to treatment which one cannot read 
+much less narrate, without horror. And yet, because it bears directly on 
+the matter in hand, I will briefly touch upon it. First, then, famine 
+wasted the Saguntines, so that even human corpses were eaten by some: 
+so at least it is recorded. Subsequently, when thoroughly worn out, that 
+they might at least escape the ignominy of falling into the hands of 
+Hannibal, they publicly erected a huge funeral pile, and cast themselves 
+into its flames, while at the same time they slew their children and 
+themselves with the sword. Could these gods, these debauchees and 
+gourmands, whose mouths water for fat sacrifices, and whose lips utter 
+lying divinations—could they not do anything in a case like this? Could 
+they not interfere for the preservation of a city closely allied to the 
+Roman people, or prevent it perishing for its fidelity to that alliance of 
+which they themselves had been the mediators? Saguntum, faithfully 
+keeping the treaty it had entered into before these gods, and to which it 
+had firmly bound itself by an oath, was besieged, taken, and destroyed 
+
+
+by a perjured person. If afterwards, when Hannibal was close to the 
+walls of Rome, it was the gods who terrified him with lightning and 
+tempest, and drove him to a distance, why, I ask, did they not thus 
+interfere before? For I make bold to say, that this demonstration with 
+the tempest would have been more honourably made in defence of the 
+allies of Rome—who were in danger on account of their reluctance to 
+break faith with the Romans, and had no resources of their own—than in 
+defence of the Romans themselves, who were fighting in their own 
+cause, and had abundant resources to oppose Hannibal. If, then, they 
+had been the guardians of Roman prosperity and glory, they would have 
+preserved that glory from the stain of this Saguntine disaster; and how 
+silly it is to believe that Rome was preserved from destruction at the 
+hands of Hannibal by the guardian care of those gods who were unable 
+to rescue the city of Saguntum from perishing through its fidelity to the 
+alliance of Rome. If the population of Saguntum had been Christian, and 
+had suffered as it did for the Christian faith (though, of course, 
+Christians would not have used fire and sword against their own 
+persons), they would have suffered with that hope which springs from 
+faith in Christ—the hope not of a brief temporal reward, but of unending 
+and eternal bliss. What, then, will the advocates and apologists of these 
+gods say in their defence, when charged with the blood of these 
+Saguntines; for they are professedly worshipped and invoked for this 
+very purpose of securing prosperity in this fleeting and transitory life? 
+Can anything be said but what was alleged in the case of Regulus’ death? 
+For though there is a difference between the two cases, the one being an 
+individual, the other a whole community, yet the cause of destruction 
+was in both cases the keeping of their plighted troth. For it was this 
+which made Regulus willing to return to his enemies, and this which 
+made the Saguntines unwilling to revolt to their enemies. Does, then, the 
+keeping of faith provoke the gods to anger? Or is it possible that not 
+only individuals, but even entire communities, perish while the gods are 
+propitious to them? Let our adversaries choose which alternative they 
+will. If, on the one hand, those gods are enraged at the keeping of faith, 
+let them enlist perjured persons as their worshippers. If, on the other 
+hand, men and states can suffer great and terrible calamities, and at last 
+perish while favoured by the gods, then does their worship not produce 
+happiness as its fruit. Let those, therefore, who suppose that they have 
+
+
+fallen into distress because their religious worship has been abolished, 
+lay aside their anger; for it were quite possible that did the gods not only 
+remain with them, but regard them with favour, they might yet be left to 
+mourn an unhappy lot, or might, even like Regulus and the Saguntines, 
+be horribly tormented, and at last perish miserably. 
+
+
+21. Of the ingratitude of Rome to Scipio, its deliverer, and of its manners during the period 
+which Sallust describes as the best 
+
+
+Omitting many things, that I may not exceed the limits of the work I 
+have proposed to myself, I come to the epoch between the second and 
+last Punic wars, during which, according to Sallust, the Romans lived 
+with the greatest virtue and concord. Now, in this period of virtue and 
+harmony, the great Scipio, the liberator of Rome and Italy, who had with 
+surprising ability brought to a close the second Punic war—that horrible, 
+destructive, dangerous contest—who had defeated Hannibal and 
+subdued Carthage, and whose whole life is said to have been dedicated 
+to the gods, and cherished in their temples—this Scipio, after such a 
+triumph, was obliged to yield to the accusations of his enemies, and to 
+leave his country, which his valour had saved and liberated, to spend the 
+remainder of his days in the town of Liternum, so indifferent to a recall 
+from exile, that he is said to have given orders that not even his remains 
+should lie in his ungrateful country. It was at that time also that the 
+proconsul Cn. Manlius, after subduing the Galatians, introduced into 
+Rome the luxury of Asia, more destructive than all hostile armies. It was 
+then that iron bedsteads and expensive carpets were first used; then, too, 
+that female singers were admitted at banquets, and other licentious 
+abominations were introduced. But at present I meant to speak, not of 
+the evils men voluntarily practise, but of those they suffer in spite of 
+themselves. So that the case of Scipio, who succumbed to his enemies, 
+and died in exile from the country he had rescued, was mentioned by me 
+as being pertinent to the present discussion; for this was the reward he 
+received from those Roman gods whose temples he saved from Hannibal, 
+and who are worshipped only for the sake of securing temporal 
+happiness. But since Sallust, as we have seen, declares that the manners 
+of Rome were never better than at that time, I therefore judged it right 
+to mention the Asiatic luxury then introduced, that it might be seen that 
+what he says is true, only when that period is compared with the others, 
+
+
+during which the morals were certainly worse, and the factions more 
+violent. For at that time—I mean between the second and third Punic 
+war—that notorious Lex Voconia was passed, which prohibited a man 
+from making a woman, even an only daughter, his heir; than which law I 
+am at a loss to conceive what could be more unjust. It is true that in the 
+interval between these two Punic wars the misery of Rome was 
+somewhat less. Abroad, indeed, their forces were consumed by wars, yet 
+also consoled by victories; while at home there were not such 
+disturbances as at other times. But when the last Punic war had 
+terminated in the utter destruction of Rome’s rival, which quickly 
+succumbed to the other Scipio, who thus earned for himself the surname 
+of Africanus, then the Roman republic was overwhelmed with such a 
+host of ills, which sprang from the corrupt manners induced by 
+prosperity and security, that the sudden overthrow of Carthage is seen to 
+have injured Rome more seriously than her long-continued hostility. 
+During the whole subsequent period down to the time of Cesar 
+Augustus, who seems to have entirely deprived the Romans of liberty—a 
+liberty, indeed, which in their own judgment was no longer glorious, but 
+full of broils and dangers, and which now was quite enervated and 
+languishing—and who submitted all things again to the will of a 
+monarch, and infused as it were a new life into the sickly old age of the 
+republic, and inaugurated a fresh régime;—during this whole period, I 
+say, many military disasters were sustained on a variety of occasions, all 
+of which I here pass by. There was specially the treaty of Numantia, 
+blotted as it was with extreme disgrace; for the sacred chickens, they 
+say, flew out of the coop, and thus augured disaster to Mancinus the 
+consul; just as if, during all these years in which that little city of 
+Numantia had withstood the besieging army of Rome, and had become a 
+terror to the republic, the other generals had all marched against it 
+under unfavourable auspices. 
+
+
+22. Of the edict of Mithridates, commanding that all Roman citizens found in Asia should be 
+slain 
+
+
+These things, I say, I pass in silence; but I can by no means be silent 
+regarding the order given by Mithridates, king of Asia, that on one day 
+all Roman citizens residing anywhere in Asia (where great numbers of 
+them were following their private business) should be put to death: and 
+
+
+this order was executed. How miserable a spectacle was then presented, 
+when each man was suddenly and treacherously murdered wherever he 
+happened to be, in the field or on the road, in the town, in his own 
+home, or in the street, in market or temple, in bed or at table! Think of 
+the groans of the dying, the tears of the spectators, and even of the 
+executioners themselves. For how cruel a necessity was it that compelled 
+the hosts of these victims, not only to see these abominable butcheries in 
+their own houses, but even to perpetrate them: to change their 
+countenance suddenly from the bland kindliness of friendship, and in the 
+midst of peace set about the business of war; and, shall I say, give and 
+receive wounds, the slain being pierced in body, the slayer in spirit! Had 
+all these murdered persons, then, despised auguries? Had they neither 
+public nor household gods to consult when they left their homes and set 
+out on that fatal journey? If they had not, our adversaries have no 
+reason to complain of these Christian times in this particular, since long 
+ago the Romans despised auguries as idle. If, on the other hand, they did 
+consult omens, let them tell us what good they got thereby, even when 
+such things were not prohibited, but authorized, by human, if not by 
+divine law. 
+
+
+23. Of the internal disasters which vexed the Roman republic, and followed a portentous 
+
+
+madness which seized all the domestic animals 
+
+
+But let us now mention, as succinctly as possible, those disasters 
+which were still more vexing, because nearer home; I mean those 
+discords which are erroneously called civil, since they destroy civil 
+interests. The seditions had now become urban wars, in which blood was 
+freely shed, and in which parties raged against one another, not with 
+wrangling and verbal contention, but with physical force and arms. 
+What a sea of Roman blood was shed, what desolations and devastations 
+were occasioned in Italy by wars social, wars servile, wars civil! Before 
+the Latins began the social war against Rome, all the animals used in the 
+service of man—dogs, horses, asses, oxen, and all the rest that are 
+subject to man—suddenly grew wild, and forgot their domesticated 
+tameness, forsook their stalls and wandered at large, and could not be 
+closely approached either by strangers or their own masters without 
+danger. If this was a portent, how serious a calamity must have been 
+portended by a plague which, whether portent or no, was in itself a 
+
+
+serious calamity! Had it happened in our day, the heathen would have 
+been more rabid against us than their animals were against them. 
+
+
+24. Of the civil dissension occasioned by the sedition of the Gracchi 
+
+
+The civil wars originated in the seditions which the Gracchi excited 
+regarding the agrarian laws; for they were minded to divide among the 
+people the lands which were wrongfully possessed by the nobility. But to 
+reform an abuse of so long standing was an enterprise full of peril, or 
+rather, as the event proved, of destruction. For what disasters 
+accompanied the death of the elder Gracchus! what slaughter ensued 
+when, shortly after, the younger brother met the same fate! For noble 
+and ignoble were indiscriminately massacred; and this not by legal 
+authority and procedure, but by mobs and armed rioters. After the death 
+of the younger Gracchus, the consul Lucius Opimius, who had given 
+battle to him within the city, and had defeated and put to the sword 
+both himself and his confederates, and had massacred many of the 
+citizens, instituted a judicial examination of others, and is reported to 
+have put to death as many as 3000 men. From this it may be gathered 
+how many fell in the riotous encounters, when the result even of a 
+judicial investigation was so bloody. The assassin of Gracchus himself 
+sold his head to the consul for its weight in gold, such being the previous 
+agreement. In this massacre, too, Marcus Fulvius, a man of consular 
+rank, with all his children, was put to death. 
+
+
+25. Of the temple of Concord, which was erected by a decree of the senate on the scene of these 
+
+
+seditions and massacres 
+
+
+A pretty decree of the senate it was, truly, by which the temple of 
+Concord was built on the spot where that disastrous rising had taken 
+place, and where so many citizens of every rank had fallen.37 I suppose 
+it was that the monument of the Gracchi’s punishment might strike the 
+eye and affect the memory of the pleaders. But what was this but to 
+deride the gods, by building a temple to that goddess who, had she been 
+in the city, would not have suffered herself to be torn by such 
+dissensions? Or was it that Concord was chargeable with that bloodshed 
+because she had deserted the minds of the citizens, and was therefore 
+incarcerated in that temple? For if they had any regard to consistency, 
+why did they not rather erect on that site a temple of Discord? Or is 
+
+
+there a reason for Concord being a goddess while Discord is none? Does 
+the distinction of Labeo hold here, who would have made the one a 
+good, the other an evil deity?—a distinction which seems to have been 
+suggested to him by the mere fact of his observing at Rome a temple to 
+Fever as well as one to Health. But, on the same ground, Discord as well 
+as Concord ought to be deified. A hazardous venture the Romans made 
+in provoking so wicked a goddess, and in forgetting that the destruction 
+of Troy had been occasioned by her taking offence. For, being indignant 
+that she was not invited with the other gods [to the nuptials of Peleus 
+and Thetis], she created dissension among the three goddesses by 
+sending in the golden apple, which occasioned strife in heaven, victory 
+to Venus, the rape of Helen, and the destruction of Troy. Wherefore, if 
+she was perhaps offended that the Romans had not thought her worthy 
+of a temple among the other gods in their city, and therefore disturbed 
+the state with such tumults, to how much fiercer passion would she be 
+roused when she saw the temple of her adversary erected on the scene of 
+that massacre, or, in other words, on the scene of her own handiwork! 
+Those wise and learned men are enraged at our laughing at these follies; 
+and yet, being worshippers of good and bad divinities alike, they cannot 
+escape this dilemma about Concord and Discord: either they have 
+neglected the worship of these goddesses, and preferred Fever and War, 
+to whom there are shrines erected of great antiquity, or they have 
+worshipped them, and after all Concord has abandoned them, and 
+Discord has tempestuously hurled them into civil wars. 
+
+
+26. Of the various kinds of wars which followed the building of the temple of Concord 
+
+
+But they supposed that, in erecting the temple of Concord within the 
+view of the orators, as a memorial of the punishment and death of the 
+Gracchi, they were raising an effectual obstacle to sedition. How much 
+effect it had, is indicated by the still more deplorable wars that followed. 
+For after this the orators endeavoured not to avoid the example of the 
+Gracchi, but to surpass their projects; as did Lucius Saturninus, a tribune 
+of the people, and Caius Servilius the prætor, and some time after 
+Marcus Drusus, all of whom stirred seditions which first of all 
+occasioned bloodshed, and then the social wars by which Italy was 
+grievously injured, and reduced to a piteously desolate and wasted 
+condition. Then followed the servile war and the civil wars; and in them 
+
+
+what battles were fought, and what blood was shed, so that almost all 
+the peoples of Italy, which formed the main strength of the Roman 
+empire, were conquered as if they were barbarians! Then even historians 
+themselves find it difficult to explain how the servile war was begun by 
+a very few, certainly less than seventy gladiators, what numbers of fierce 
+and cruel men attached themselves to these, how many of the Roman 
+generals this band defeated, and how it laid waste many districts and 
+cities. And that was not the only servile war: the province of Macedonia, 
+and subsequently Sicily and the sea-coast, were also depopulated by 
+bands of slaves. And who can adequately describe either the horrible 
+atrocities which the pirates first committed, or the wars they afterwards 
+maintained against Rome? 
+
+
+27. Of the civil war between Marius and Sylla 
+
+
+But when Marius, stained with the blood of his fellow-citizens, whom 
+the rage of party had sacrificed, was in his turn vanquished and driven 
+from the city, it had scarcely time to breathe freely, when, to use the 
+words of Cicero, “Cinna and Marius together returned and took 
+possession of it. Then, indeed, the foremost men in the state were put to 
+death, its lights quenched. Sylla afterwards avenged this cruel victory; 
+but we need not say with what loss of life, and with what ruin to the 
+republic.”38 For of this vengeance, which was more destructive than if 
+the crimes which it punished had been committed with impunity, Lucan 
+says: “The cure was excessive, and too closely resembled the disease. 
+The guilty perished, but when none but the guilty survived: and then 
+private hatred and anger, unbridled by law, were allowed free 
+indulgence.”39 In that war between Marius and Sylla, besides those who 
+fell in the field of battle, the city, too, was filled with corpses in its 
+streets, squares, markets, theatres, and temples; so that it is not easy to 
+reckon whether the victors slew more before or after victory, that they 
+might be, or because they were, victors. As soon as Marius triumphed, 
+and returned from exile, besides the butcheries everywhere perpetrated, 
+the head of the consul Octavius was exposed on the rostrum; Cæsar and 
+Fimbria were assassinated in their own houses; the two Crassi, father 
+and son, were murdered in one another’s sight; Bebius and Numitorius 
+were disembowelled by being dragged with hooks; Catulus escaped the 
+hands of his enemies by drinking poison; Merula, the flamen of Jupiter, 
+
+
+cut his veins and made a libation of his own blood to his god. Moreover, 
+every one whose salutation Marius did not answer by giving his hand, 
+was at once cut down before his face. 
+
+
+28. Of the victory of Sylla, the avenger of the cruelties of Marius 
+
+
+Then followed the victory of Sylla, the so-called avenger of the 
+cruelties of Marius. But not only was his victory purchased with great 
+bloodshed; but when hostilities were finished, hostility survived, and the 
+subsequent peace was bloody as the war. To the former and still recent 
+massacres of the elder Marius, the younger Marius and Carbo, who 
+belonged to the same party, added greater atrocities. For when Sylla 
+approached, and they despaired not only of victory, but of life itself, 
+they made a promiscuous massacre of friends and foes. And, not satisfied 
+with staining every corner of Rome with blood they besieged the senate, 
+and led forth the senators to death from the curia as from a prison. 
+Mucius Scevola the pontiff was slain at the altar of Vesta, which he had 
+clung to because no spot in Rome was more sacred than her temple; and 
+his blood well-nigh extinguished the fire which was kept alive by the 
+constant care of the virgins. Then Sylla entered the city victorious, after 
+having slaughtered in the Villa Publica, not by combat, but by an order, 
+7000 men who had surrendered, and were therefore unarmed; so fierce 
+was the rage of peace itself, even after the rage of war was extinct. 
+Moreover, throughout the whole city every partisan of Sylla slew whom 
+he pleased, so that the number of deaths went beyond computation, till 
+it was suggested to Sylla that he should allow some to survive, that the 
+victors might not be destitute of subjects. Then this furious and 
+promiscuous licence to murder was checked, and much relief was 
+expressed at the publication of the proscription list, containing though it 
+did the death-warrant of two thousand men of the highest ranks, the 
+senatorial and equestrian. The large number was indeed saddening, but 
+it was consolatory that a limit was fixed; nor was the grief at the 
+numbers slain so great as the joy that the rest were secure. But this very 
+security, hard-hearted as it was, could not but bemoan the exquisite 
+torture applied to some of those who had been doomed to die. For one 
+was torn to pieces by the unarmed hands of the executioners; men 
+treating a living man more savagely than wild beasts are used to tear an 
+abandoned corpse. Another had his eyes dug out, and his limbs cut away 
+
+
+bit by bit, and was forced to live a long while, or rather to die a long 
+while, in such torture. Some celebrated cities were put up to auction, 
+like farms; and one was collectively condemned to slaughter, just as an 
+individual criminal would be condemned to death. These things were 
+done in peace when the war was over, not that victory might be more 
+speedily obtained, but that, after being obtained, it might not be thought 
+lightly of. Peace vied with war in cruelty, and surpassed it: for while war 
+overthrew armed hosts, peace slew the defenceless. War gave liberty to 
+him who was attacked, to strike if he could; peace granted to the 
+survivors not life, but an unresisting death. 
+
+
+29. A comparison of the disasters which Rome experienced during the Gothic and Gallic 
+
+
+invasions, with those occasioned by the authors of the civil wars 
+
+
+What fury of foreign nations, what barbarian ferocity, can compare 
+with this victory of citizens over citizens? Which was more disastrous, 
+more hideous, more bitter to Rome: the recent Gothic and the old Gallic 
+invasion, or the cruelty displayed by Marius and Sylla and their partisans 
+against men who were members of the same body as themselves? The 
+Gauls, indeed, massacred all the senators they found in any part of the 
+city except the Capitol, which alone was defended; but they at least sold 
+life to those who were in the Capitol, though they might have starved 
+them out if they could not have stormed it. The Goths, again, spared so 
+many senators, that it is the more surprising that they killed any. But 
+Sylla, while Marius was still living, established himself as conqueror in 
+the Capitol, which the Gauls had not violated, and thence issued his 
+death-warrants; and when Marius had escaped by flight, though destined 
+to return more fierce and bloodthirsty than ever, Sylla issued from the 
+Capitol even decrees of the senate for the slaughter and confiscation of 
+the property of many citizens. Then, when Sylla left, what did the 
+Marian faction hold sacred or spare, when they gave no quarter even to 
+Mucius, a citizen, a senator, a pontiff, and though clasping in piteous 
+embrace the very altar in which, they say, reside the destinies of Rome? 
+And that final proscription list of Sylla’s, not to mention countless other 
+massacres, despatched more senators than the Goths could even plunder. 
+
+
+30. Of the connection of the wars which with great severity and frequency followed one another 
+before the advent of Christ 
+
+
+With what effrontery, then, with what assurance, with what 
+impudence, with what folly, or rather insanity, do they refuse to impute 
+these disasters to their own gods, and impute the present to our Christ! 
+These bloody civil wars, more distressing, by the avowal of their own 
+historians, than any foreign wars, and which were pronounced to be not 
+merely calamitous, but absolutely ruinous to the republic, began long 
+before the coming of Christ, and gave birth to one another; so that a 
+concatenation of unjustifiable causes led from the wars of Marius and 
+Sylla to those of Sertorius and Catiline, of whom the one was proscribed, 
+the other brought up by Sylla; from this to the war of Lepidus and 
+Catulus, of whom the one wished to rescind, the other to defend the acts 
+of Sylla; from this to the war of Pompey and Cæsar, of whom Pompey 
+had been a partisan of Sylla, whose power he equalled or even 
+surpassed, while Cæsar condemned Pompey’s power because it was not 
+his own, and yet exceeded it when Pompey was defeated and slain. From 
+him the chain of civil wars extended to the second Cæsar, afterwards 
+called Augustus, and in whose reign Christ was born. For even Augustus 
+himself waged many civil wars; and in these wars many of the foremost 
+men perished, among them that skilful manipulator of the republic, 
+Cicero. Caius [Julius] Cæsar, when he had conquered Pompey, though 
+he used his victory with clemency, and granted to men of the opposite 
+faction both life and honours, was suspected of aiming at royalty, and 
+was assassinated in the curia by a party of noble senators, who had 
+conspired to defend the liberty of the republic. His power was then 
+coveted by Antony, a man of very different character, polluted and 
+debased by every kind of vice, who was strenuously resisted by Cicero 
+on the same plea of defending the liberty of the republic. At this juncture 
+that other Cæsar, the adopted son of Caius, and afterwards, as I said, 
+known by the name of Augustus, had made his début as a young man of 
+remarkable genius. This youthful Cæsar was favoured by Cicero, in order 
+that his influence might counteract that of Antony; for he hoped that 
+Cæsar would overthrow and blast the power of Antony, and establish a 
+free state—so blind and unaware of the future was he: for that very 
+young man, whose advancement and influence he was fostering, allowed 
+Cicero to be killed as the seal of an alliance with Antony, and subjected 
+to his own rule the very liberty of the republic in defence of which he 
+had made so many orations. 
+
+
+31. That it is effrontery to impute the present troubles to Christ and the prohibition of polytheistic 
+
+
+worship, since even when the gods were worshipped such calamities befell the people 
+
+
+Let those who have no gratitude to Christ for His great benefits, blame 
+their own gods for these heavy disasters. For certainly when these 
+occurred the altars of the gods were kept blazing, and there rose the 
+mingled fragrance of “Sabaean incense and fresh garlands;”4° the priests 
+were clothed with honour, the shrines were maintained in splendour; 
+sacrifices, games, sacred ecstasies, were common in the temples; while 
+the blood of the citizens was being so freely shed, not only in remote 
+places, but among the very altars of the gods. Cicero did not choose to 
+seek sanctuary in a temple, because Mucius had sought it there in vain. 
+But they who most unpardonably calumniate this Christian era, are the 
+very men who either themselves fled for asylum to the places specially 
+dedicated to Christ, or were led there by the barbarians that they might 
+be safe. In short, not to recapitulate the many instances I have cited, and 
+not to add to their number others which it were tedious to enumerate, 
+this one thing I am persuaded of, and this every impartial judgment will 
+readily acknowledge, that if the human race had received Christianity 
+before the Punic wars, and if the same desolating calamities which these 
+wars brought upon Europe and Africa had followed the introduction of 
+Christianity, there is no one of those who now accuse us who would not 
+have attributed them to our religion. How intolerable would their 
+accusations have been, at least so far as the Romans are concerned, if the 
+Christian religion had been received and diffused prior to the invasion of 
+the Gauls, or to the ruinous floods and fires which desolated Rome, or to 
+those most calamitous of all events, the civil wars! And those other 
+disasters, which were of so strange a nature that they were reckoned 
+prodigies, had they happened since the Christian era, to whom but to the 
+Christians would they have imputed these as crimes? I do not speak of 
+those things which were rather surprising than hurtful—oxen speaking, 
+unborn infants articulating some words in their mothers’ wombs, 
+serpents flying, hens and women being changed into the other sex; and 
+other similar prodigies which, whether true or false, are recorded not in 
+their imaginative, but in their historical works, and which do not injure, 
+but only astonish men. But when it rained earth, when it rained chalk, 
+when it rained stones—not hailstones, but real stones—this certainly was 
+
+
+calculated to do serious damage. We have read in their books that the 
+fires of Etna, pouring down from the top of the mountain to the 
+neighbouring shore, caused the sea to boil, so that rocks were burnt up, 
+and the pitch of ships began to run—a phenomenon incredibly 
+surprising, but at the same time no less hurtful. By the same violent 
+heat, they relate that on another occasion Sicily was filled with cinders, 
+so that the houses of the city Catina were destroyed and buried under 
+them—a calamity which moved the Romans to pity them, and remit 
+their tribute for that year. One may also read that Africa, which had by 
+that time become a province of Rome, was visited by a prodigious 
+multitude of locusts, which, after consuming the fruit and foliage of the 
+trees, were driven into the sea in one vast and measureless cloud; so that 
+when they were drowned and cast upon the shore the air was polluted, 
+and so serious a pestilence produced that in the kingdom of Masinissa 
+alone they say there perished 800,000 persons, besides a much greater 
+number in the neighbouring districts. At Utica they assure us that, of 
+30,000 soldiers then garrisoning it, there survived only ten. Yet which of 
+these disasters, suppose they happened now, would not be attributed to 
+the Christian religion by those who thus thoughtlessly accuse us, and 
+whom we are compelled to answer? And yet to their own gods they 
+attribute none of these things, though they worship them for the sake of 
+escaping lesser calamities of the same kind, and do not reflect that they 
+who formerly worshipped them were not preserved from these serious 
+disasters. 
+
+
+1 Compare Aug. Epist. ad Deogratias, 102, 13; and De Præd, Sanct. 19. 
+2 Ch. iv. 
+
+3 Virg. Georg. i. 502, ‘Laomedonteæ luimus perjuria Trojæ. 
+
+4 Tliad, xx. 293 et seqq. 
+
+° Aineid, v. 810, 811. 
+
+6 Gratis et ingratis. 
+
+7 De Conj. Cat. vi. 
+
+8 Helen’s husband. 
+
+2 Venus’ husband. 
+
+
+10 Suetonius, in his Life of Julius Cesar (c. 6), relates that, in pronouncing a funeral oration in 
+
+
+praise of his aunt Julia, Cesar claimed for the Julian gens to which his family belonged a descent 
+
+
+from Venus, through Iulus, son of Æneas. 
+11 Livy, 83, one of the lost books; and Appian, in Mithridat. 
+
+
+12 The gates of Janus were not the gates of a temple, but the gates of a passage called Janus, 
+
+
+which was used only for military purposes; shut therefore in peace, open in war. 
+13 The year of the Consuls T. Manlius and C. Atilius, A.U.C. 519. 
+14 Sall. Conj. Cat. ii. 
+
+15 Æneid, viii. 326-7. 
+
+16 Sall. Cat. Conj. vi. 
+
+17 Æneid, xi. 532. 
+
+18 bid. x. 464. 
+
+19 Livy, x. 47 
+
+20 Being son of Apollo. 
+
+21 Virgil, Ain. i. 286. 
+
+22 Pharsal. v. 1. 
+
+
+23 Aineid, x. 821, of Lausus: 
+“But when Anchises’ son surveyed 
+The fair, fair face so ghastly made, 
+He groaned, by tenderness unmanned, 
+And stretched the sympathizing hand,” etc. 
+
+
+24 Virgil, Aineid, vi. 813. 
+
+25 Sallust, Cat. Conj. ii. 
+
+26 Ps, x. 3. 
+
+27 Aineid, ii. 351-2. 
+
+28 Cicero, De Rep. ii. 10. 
+
+29 Contra Cat. iii. 2. 
+
+30 Æneid, vi. 820, etc. 
+
+31 His nephew. 
+
+32 Hist. i. 
+
+33 Lectisternia, from lectus, a couch, and sterno, I spread. 
+34 Proletarius, from proles, offspring. 
+
+35 The oracle ran: “Dico te, Pyrrhe, vincere posse Romanos.” 
+
+
+36 Troy, Lavinia, Alba. 
+
+
+37 Under the inscription on the temple some person wrote the line, “Vecordiz opus «dem facit 
+
+
+Concordie”—The work of discord makes the temple of Concord. 
+38 Cicero, in Catilin. iii. sub. fin. 
+
+39 Lucan, Pharsal. ii. 142-146. 
+
+40 Virgil, Aineid, i. 417. 
+
+
+BOOK FOURTH! 
+
+
+ARGUMENT 
+
+
+IN THIS BOOK IT IS PROVED THAT THE EXTENT AND LONG DURATION OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE IS TO BE 
+ASCRIBED, NOT TO JOVE OR THE GODS OF THE HEATHEN, TO WHOM INDIVIDUALLY SCARCE EVEN SINGLE 
+THINGS AND THE VERY BASEST FUNCTIONS WERE BELIEVED TO BE ENTRUSTED, BUT TO THE ONE TRUE 
+GOD, THE AUTHOR OF FELICITY, BY WHOSE POWER AND JUDGMENT EARTHLY KINGDOMS ARE FOUNDED 
+AND MAINTAINED. 
+
+
+1. Of the things which have been discussed in the first book 
+
+
+H aving begun to speak of the city of God, I have thought it necessary 
+first of all to reply to its enemies, who, eagerly pursuing earthly 
+joys, and gaping after transitory things, throw the blame of all the 
+sorrow they suffer in them—rather through the compassion of God in 
+admonishing, than His severity in punishing—on the Christian religion, 
+which is the one salutary and true religion. And since there is among 
+them also an unlearned rabble, they are stirred up as by the authority of 
+the learned to hate us more bitterly, thinking in their inexperience that 
+things which have happened unwontedly in their days were not wont to 
+happen in other times gone by; and whereas this opinion of theirs is 
+confirmed even by those who know that it is false, and yet dissemble 
+their knowledge in order that they may seem to have just cause for 
+murmuring against us, it was necessary, from books in which their 
+authors recorded and published the history of bygone times that it might 
+be known, to demonstrate that it is far otherwise than they think; and at 
+the same time to teach that the false gods, whom they openly 
+worshipped, or still worship in secret, are most unclean spirits, and most 
+malignant and deceitful demons, even to such a pitch that they take 
+delight in crimes which, whether real or only fictitious, are yet their 
+own, which it has been their will to have celebrated in honour of them 
+at their own festivals; so that human infirmity cannot be called back 
+
+
+from the perpetration of damnable deeds, so long as authority is 
+furnished for imitating them that seems even divine. These things we 
+have proved, not from our own conjectures, but partly from recent 
+memory, because we ourselves have seen such things celebrated, and to 
+such deities, partly from the writings of those who have left these things 
+on record to posterity, not as if in reproach, but as in honour of their 
+own gods. Thus Varro, a most learned man among them, and of the 
+weightiest authority, when he made separate books concerning things 
+human and things divine, distributing some among the human, others 
+among the divine, according to the special dignity of each, placed the 
+scenic plays not at all among things human, but among things divine; 
+though, certainly, if only there were good and honest men in the state, 
+the scenic plays ought not to be allowed even among things human. And 
+this he did not on his own authority, but because, being born and 
+educated at Rome, he found them among the divine things. Now as we 
+briefly stated in the end of the first book what we intended afterwards to 
+discuss, and as we have disposed of a part of this in the next two books, 
+we see what our readers will expect us now to take up. 
+
+
+2. Of those things which are contained in Books Second and Third 
+
+
+We had promised, then, that we would say something against those 
+who attribute the calamities of the Roman republic to our religion, and 
+that we would recount the evils, as many and great as we could 
+remember or might deem sufficient, which that city, or the provinces 
+belonging to its empire, had suffered before their sacrifices were 
+prohibited, all of which would beyond doubt have been attributed to us, 
+if our religion had either already shone on them, or had thus prohibited 
+their sacrilegious rites. These things we have, as we think, fully disposed 
+of in the second and third books, treating in the second of evils in 
+morals, which alone or chiefly are to be accounted evils; and in the 
+third, of those which only fools dread to undergo—namely, those of the 
+body or of outward things—which for the most part the good also suffer. 
+But those evils by which they themselves become evil, they take, I do 
+not say patiently, but with pleasure. And how few evils have I related 
+concerning that one city and its empire! Not even all down to the time of 
+Cesar Augustus. What if I had chosen to recount and enlarge on those 
+evils, not which men have inflicted on each other, such as the 
+
+
+devastations and destructions of war, but which happen in earthly 
+things, from the elements of the world itself? Of such evils Apuleius 
+speaks briefly in one passage of that book which he wrote, De Mundo, 
+saying that all earthly things are subject to change, overthrow, and 
+destruction.2 For, to use his own words, by excessive earthquakes the 
+ground has burst asunder, and cities with their inhabitants have been 
+clean destroyed: by sudden rains whole regions have been washed away; 
+those also which formerly had been continents, have been insulated by 
+strange and new-come waves, and others, by the subsiding of the sea, 
+have been made passable by the foot of man: by winds and storms cities 
+have been overthrown; fires have flashed forth from the clouds, by 
+which regions in the East being burnt up have perished; and on the 
+western coasts the like destructions have been caused by the bursting 
+forth of waters and floods. So, formerly, from the lofty craters of Etna, 
+rivers of fire kindled by God have flowed like a torrent down the steeps. 
+If I had wished to collect from history wherever I could, these and 
+similar instances, where should I have finished what happened even in 
+those times before the name of Christ had put down those of their idols, 
+so vain and hurtful to true salvation? I promised that I should also point 
+out which of their customs, and for what cause, the true God, in whose 
+power all kingdoms are, had deigned to favour to the enlargement of 
+their empire; and how those whom they think gods can have profited 
+them nothing, but much rather hurt them by deceiving and beguiling 
+them; so that it seems to me I must now speak of these things, and 
+chiefly of the increase of the Roman empire. For I have already said not 
+a little, especially in the second book, about the many evils introduced 
+into their manners by the hurtful deceits of the demons whom they 
+worshipped as gods. But throughout all the three books already 
+completed, where it appeared suitable, we have set forth how much 
+succour God, through the name of Christ, to whom the barbarians 
+beyond the custom of war paid so much honour, has bestowed on the 
+good and bad, according as it is written, “Who maketh His sun to rise on 
+the good and the evil, and giveth rain to the just and the unjust.” 
+
+
+3. Whether the great extent of the empire, which has been acquired only by wars, is to be 
+reckoned among the good things either of the wise or the happy 
+
+
+Now, therefore, let us see how it is that they dare to ascribe the very 
+
+
+great extent and duration of the Roman empire to those gods whom they 
+contend that they worship honourably, even by the obsequies of vile 
+games and the ministry of vile men: although I should like first to 
+inquire for a little what reason, what prudence, there is in wishing to 
+glory in the greatness and extent of the empire, when you cannot point 
+out the happiness of men who are always rolling, with dark fear and 
+cruel lust, in warlike slaughters and in blood, which, whether shed in 
+civil or foreign war, is still human blood; so that their joy may be 
+compared to glass in its fragile splendour, of which one is horribly afraid 
+lest it should be suddenly broken in pieces. That this may be more easily 
+discerned, let us not come to nought by being carried away with empty 
+boasting, or blunt the edge of our attention by loud-sounding names of 
+things, when we hear of peoples, kingdoms, provinces. But let us 
+suppose a case of two men; for each individual man, like one letter in a 
+language, is as it were the element of a city or kingdom, however far- 
+spreading in its occupation of the earth. Of these two men let us suppose 
+that one is poor, or rather of middling circumstances; the other very 
+rich. But the rich man is anxious with fears, pining with discontent, 
+burning with covetousness, never secure, always uneasy, panting from 
+the perpetual strife of his enemies, adding to his patrimony indeed by 
+these miseries to an immense degree, and by these additions also 
+heaping up most bitter cares. But that other man of moderate wealth is 
+contented with a small and compact estate, most dear to his own family, 
+enjoying the sweetest peace with his kindred neighbours and friends, in 
+piety religious, benignant in mind, healthy in body, in life frugal, in 
+manners chaste, in conscience secure. I know not whether any one can 
+be such a fool, that he dare hesitate which to prefer. As, therefore, in the 
+case of these two men, so in two families, in two nations, in two 
+kingdoms, this test of tranquillity holds good; and if we apply it 
+vigilantly and without prejudice, we shall quite easily see where the 
+mere show of happiness dwells, and where real felicity. Wherefore if the 
+true God is worshipped, and if He is served with genuine rites and true 
+virtue, it is advantageous that good men should long reign both far and 
+wide. Nor is this advantageous so much to themselves, as to those over 
+whom they reign. For, so far as concerns themselves, their piety and 
+probity, which are great gifts of God, suffice to give them true felicity, 
+enabling them to live well the life that now is, and afterwards to receive 
+
+
+that which is eternal. In this world, therefore, the dominion of good men 
+is profitable, not so much for themselves as for human affairs. But the 
+dominion of bad men is hurtful chiefly to themselves who rule, for they 
+destroy their own souls by greater licence in wickedness; while those 
+who are put under them in service are not hurt except by their own 
+iniquity. For to the just all the evils imposed on them by unjust rulers 
+are not the punishment of crime, but the test of virtue. Therefore the 
+good man, although he is a slave, is free; but the bad man, even if he 
+reigns, is a slave, and that not of one man, but, what is far more 
+grievous, of as many masters as he has vices; of which vices when the 
+divine Scripture treats, it says, “For of whom any man is overcome, to 
+the same he is also the bond-slave.”4 
+
+
+4. How like kingdoms without justice are to robberks 
+
+
+Justice being taken away, then, what are kingdoms but great 
+robberies? For what are robberies themselves, but little kingdoms? The 
+band itself is made up of men; it is ruled by the authority of a prince, it 
+is knit together by the pact of the confederacy; the booty is divided by 
+the law agreed on. If, by the admittance of abandoned men, this evil 
+increases to such a degree that it holds places, fixes abodes, takes 
+possession of cities, and subdues peoples, it assumes the more plainly the 
+name of a kingdom, because the reality is now manifestly conferred on 
+it, not by the removal of covetousness, but by the addition of impunity. 
+Indeed, that was an apt and true reply which was given to Alexander the 
+Great by a pirate who had been seized. For when that king had asked the 
+man what he meant by keeping hostile possession of the sea, he 
+answered with bold pride, “What thou meanest by seizing the whole 
+earth; but because I do it with a petty ship, I am called a robber, whilst 
+thou who dost it with a great fleet art styled emperor.”5 
+
+
+5. Of the runaway gladiators whose power became like that of royal dignity 
+
+
+I shall not therefore stay to inquire what sort of men Romulus 
+gathered together, seeing he deliberated much about them—how, being 
+assumed out of that life they led into the fellowship of his city, they 
+might cease to think of the punishment they deserved, the fear of which 
+had driven them to greater villanies; so that henceforth they might be 
+made more peaceable members of society. But this I say, that the Roman 
+
+
+empire, which by subduing many nations had already grown great and 
+an object of universal dread, was itself greatly alarmed, and only with 
+much difficulty avoided a disastrous overthrow, because a mere handful 
+of gladiators in Campania, escaping from the games, had recruited a 
+great army, appointed three generals, and most widely and cruelly 
+devastated Italy. Let them say what god aided these men, so that from a 
+small and contemptible band of robbers they attained to a kingdom, 
+feared even by the Romans, who had such great forces and fortresses. Or 
+will they deny that they were divinely aided because they did not last 
+long?© As if, indeed, the life of any man whatever lasted long. In that 
+case, too, the gods aid no one to reign, since all individuals quickly die; 
+nor is sovereign power to be reckoned a benefit, because in a little time 
+in every man, and thus in all of them one by one, it vanishes like a 
+vapour. For what does it matter to those who worshipped the gods under 
+Romulus, and are long since dead, that after their death the Roman 
+empire has grown so great, while they plead their causes before the 
+powers beneath? Whether those causes are good or bad, it matters not to 
+the question before us. And this is to be understood of all those who 
+carry with them the heavy burden of their actions, having in the few 
+days of their life swiftly and hurriedly passed over the stage of the 
+imperial office, although the office itself has lasted through long spaces 
+of time, being filled by a constant succession of dying men. If, however, 
+even those benefits which last only for the shortest time are to be 
+ascribed to the aid of the gods, these gladiators were not a little aided, 
+who broke the bonds of their servile condition, fled, escaped, raised a 
+great and most powerful army, obedient to the will and orders of their 
+chiefs and much feared by the Roman majesty, and remaining 
+unsubdued by several Roman generals, seized many places, and, having 
+won very many victories, enjoyed whatever pleasures they wished, and 
+did what their lust suggested, and, until at last they were conquered, 
+which was done with the utmost difficulty, lived sublime and dominant. 
+But let us come to greater matters. 
+
+
+6. Concerning the covetousness of Ninus, who was the first who made war on his neighbours, 
+
+
+that he might rule more widely 
+
+
+Justinus, who wrote Greek or rather foreign history in Latin, and 
+briefly, like Trogus Pompeius whom he followed, begins his work thus: 
+
+
+“In the beginning of the affairs of peoples and nations the government 
+was in the hands of kings, who were raised to the height of this majesty 
+not by courting the people, but by the knowledge good men had of their 
+moderation. The people were held bound by no laws; the decisions of 
+the princes were instead of laws. It was the custom to guard rather than 
+to extend the boundaries of the empire; and kingdoms were kept within 
+the bounds of each ruler’s native land. Ninus king of the Assyrians first 
+of all, through new lust of empire, changed the old and, as it were, 
+ancestral custom of nations. He first made war on his neighbours, and 
+wholly subdued as far as to the frontiers of Libya the nations as yet 
+untrained to resist.” And a little after he says: “Ninus established by 
+constant possession the greatness of the authority he had gained. Having 
+mastered his nearest neighbours, he went on to others, strengthened by 
+the accession of forces, and by making each fresh victory the instrument 
+of that which followed, subdued the nations of the whole East.” Now, 
+with whatever fidelity to fact either he or Trogus may in general have 
+written—for that they sometimes told lies is shown by other more 
+trustworthy writers—yet it is agreed among other authors, that the 
+kingdom of the Assyrians was extended far and wide by King Ninus. And 
+it lasted so long, that the Roman empire has not yet attained the same 
+age; for, as those write who have treated of chronological history, this 
+kingdom endured for twelve hundred and forty years from the first year 
+in which Ninus began to reign, until it was transferred to the Medes. But 
+to make war on your neighbours, and thence to proceed to others, and 
+through mere lust of dominion to crush and subdue people who do you 
+no harm, what else is this to be called than great robbery? 
+
+
+7. Whether earthly kingdoms in their rise and fall have been either aided or deserted by the help 
+of the gods 
+
+
+If this kingdom was so great and lasting without the aid of the gods, 
+why is the ample territory and long duration of the Roman empire to be 
+ascribed to the Roman gods? For whatever is the cause in it, the same is 
+in the other also. But if they contend that the prosperity of the other also 
+is to be attributed to the aid of the gods, I ask of which? For the other 
+nations whom Ninus overcame, did not then worship other gods. Or if 
+the Assyrians had gods of their own, who, so to speak, were more skilful 
+workmen in the construction and preservation of the empire, whether 
+
+
+are they dead, since they themselves have also lost the empire; or, 
+having been defrauded of their pay, or promised a greater, have they 
+chosen rather to go over to the Medes, and from them again to the 
+Persians, because Cyrus invited them, and promised them something still 
+more advantageous? This nation, indeed, since the time of the kingdom 
+of Alexander the Macedonian, which was as brief in duration as it was 
+great in extent, has preserved its own empire, and at this day occupies 
+no small territories in the East. If this is so, then either the gods are 
+unfaithful, who desert their own and go over to their enemies, which 
+Camillus, who was but a man, did not do, when, being victor and 
+subduer of a most hostile state, although he had felt that Rome, for 
+whom he had done so much, was ungrateful, yet afterwards, forgetting 
+the injury and remembering his native land, he freed her again from the 
+Gauls; or they are not so strong as gods ought to be, since they can be 
+overcome by human skill or strength. Or if, when they carry on war 
+among themselves, the gods are not overcome by men, but some gods 
+who are peculiar to certain cities are perchance overcome by other gods, 
+it follows that they have quarrels among themselves which they uphold, 
+each for his own part. Therefore a city ought not to worship its own 
+gods, but rather others who aid their own worshippers. Finally, whatever 
+may have been the case as to this change of sides, or flight, or migration, 
+or failure in battle on the part of the gods, the name of Christ had not 
+yet been proclaimed in those parts of the earth when these kingdoms 
+were lost and transferred through great destructions in war. For if, after 
+more than twelve hundred years, when the kingdom was taken away 
+from the Assyrians, the Christian religion had there already preached 
+another eternal kingdom, and put a stop to the sacrilegious worship of 
+false gods, what else would the foolish men of that nation have said, but 
+that the kingdom which had been so long preserved, could be lost for no 
+other cause than the desertion of their own religions and the reception of 
+Christianity? In which foolish speech that might have been uttered, let 
+those we speak of observe their own likeness, and blush, if there is any 
+sense of shame in them, because they have uttered similar complaints; 
+although the Roman empire is afflicted rather than changed—a thing 
+which has befallen it in other times also, before the name of Christ was 
+heard, and it has been restored after such affliction—a thing which even 
+in these times is not to be despaired of. For who knows the will of God 
+
+
+concerning this matter? 
+
+
+8. Which of the gods can the Romans suppose presided over the increase and preservation of their 
+empire, when they have believed that even the care of single things could scarcely be committed 
+
+
+to single gods? 
+
+
+Next let us ask, if they please, out of so great a crowd of gods which 
+the Romans worship, whom in especial, or what gods they believe to 
+have extended and preserved that empire. Now, surely of this work, 
+which is so excellent and so very full of the highest dignity, they dare 
+not ascribe any part to the goddess Cloacina,’” or to Volupia, who has her 
+appellation from voluptuousness; or to Libentina, who has her name 
+from lust; or to Vaticanus, who presides over the screaming of infants; or 
+to Cunina, who rules over their cradles. But how is it possible to recount 
+in one part of this book all the names of gods or goddesses, which they 
+could scarcely comprise in great volumes, distributing among these 
+divinities their peculiar offices about single things? They have not even 
+thought that the charge of their lands should be committed to any one 
+god: but they have entrusted their farms to Rusina; the ridges of the 
+mountains to Jugatinus; over the downs they have set the goddess 
+Collatina; over the valleys, Vallonia. Nor could they even find one 
+Segetia so competent, that they could commend to her care all their corn 
+crops at once; but so long as their seed-corn was still under the ground, 
+they would have the goddess Seia set over it; then, whenever it was 
+above ground and formed straw, they set over it the goddess Segetia; 
+and when the grain was collected and stored, they set over it the goddess 
+Tutilina, that it might be kept safe. Who would not have thought that 
+goddess Segetia sufficient to take care of the standing corn until it had 
+passed from the first green blades to the dry ears? Yet she was not 
+enough for men, who loved a multitude of gods, that the miserable soul, 
+despising the chaste embrace of the one true God, should be prostituted 
+to a crowd of demons. Therefore they set Proserpina over the 
+germinating seeds; over the joints and knots of the stems, the god 
+Nodotus; over the sheaths enfolding the ears, the goddess Volutina; 
+when the sheaths opened that the spike might shoot forth, it was 
+ascribed to the goddess Patelana; when the stems stood all equal with 
+new ears, because the ancients described this equalizing by the term 
+hostire, it was ascribed to the goddess Hostilina; when the grain was in 
+
+
+flower, it was dedicated to the goddess Flora; when full of milk, to the 
+god Lacturnus; when maturing, to the goddess Matuta; when the crop 
+was runcated—that is, removed from the soil—to the goddess Runcina. 
+Nor do I yet recount them all, for I am sick of all this, though it gives 
+them no shame. Only, I have said these very few things, in order that it 
+may be understood they dare by no means say that the Roman empire 
+has been established, increased, and preserved by their deities, who had 
+all their own functions assigned to them in such a way, that no general 
+oversight was entrusted to any one of them. When, therefore, could 
+Segetia take care of the empire, who was not allowed to take care of the 
+corn and the trees? When could Cunina take thought about war, whose 
+oversight was not allowed to go beyond the cradles of the babies? When 
+could Nodotus give help in battle, who had nothing to do even with the 
+sheath of the ear, but only with the knots of the joints? Every one sets a 
+porter at the door of his house, and because he is a man, he is quite 
+sufficient; but these people have set three gods, Forculus to the doors, 
+Cardea to the hinge, Limentinus to the threshold.8 Thus Forculus could 
+not at the same time take care also of the hinge and the threshold. 
+
+
+9. Whether the great extent and long duration of the Roman empire should be ascribed to Jove, 
+
+
+whom his worshippers believe to be the chief god 
+
+
+Therefore omitting, or passing by for a little, that crowd of petty gods, 
+we ought to inquire into the part performed by the great gods, whereby 
+Rome has been made so great as to reign so long over so many nations. 
+Doubtless, therefore, this is the work of Jove. For they will have it that 
+he is the king of all the gods and goddesses, as is shown by his sceptre 
+and by the Capitol on the lofty hill. Concerning that god they publish a 
+saying which, although that of a poet, is most apt, “All things are full of 
+Jove.”9 Varro believes that this god is worshipped, although called by 
+another name, even by those who worship one God alone without any 
+image. But if this is so, why has he been so badly used at Rome (and 
+indeed by other nations too), that an image of him should be made?—a 
+thing which was so displeasing to Varro himself, that although he was 
+overborne by the perverse custom of so great a city, he had not the least 
+hesitation in both saying and writing, that those who have appointed 
+images for the people have both taken away fear and added error. 
+
+
+10. What opinions those have followed who have set divers gods over divers parts of the world 
+
+
+Why, also, is Juno united to him as his wife, who is called at once 
+“sister and yokefellow?”!° Because, say they, we have Jove in the ether, 
+Juno in the air; and these two elements are united, the one being 
+superior, the other inferior. It is not he, then, of whom it is said, “All 
+things are full of Jove,” if Juno also fills some part. Does each fill either, 
+and are both of this couple in both of these elements, and in each of 
+them at the same time? Why, then, is the ether given to Jove, the air to 
+Juno? Besides, these two should have been enough. Why is it that the 
+sea is assigned to Neptune, the earth to Pluto? And that these also might 
+not be left without mates, Salacia is joined to Neptune, Proserpine to 
+Pluto. For they say that, as Juno possesses the lower part of the heavens 
+—that is, the air—so Salacia possesses the lower part of the sea, and 
+Froserpine the lower part of the earth. They seek how they may patch up 
+these fables, but they find no way. For, if these things were so, their 
+ancient sages would have maintained that there are three chief elements 
+of the world, not four, in order that each of the elements might have a 
+pair of gods. Now, they have positively affirmed that the ether is one 
+thing, the air another. But water, whether higher or lower, is surely 
+water. Suppose it ever so unlike, can it ever be so much so as no longer 
+to be water? And the lower earth, by whatever divinity it may be 
+distinguished, what else can it be than earth? Lo, then, since the whole 
+physical world is complete in these four or three elements, where shall 
+Minerva be? What should she possess, what should she fill? For she is 
+placed in the Capitol along with these two, although she is not the 
+offspring of their marriage. Or if they say that she possesses the higher 
+part of the ether—and on that account the poets have feigned that she 
+sprang from the head of Jove—why then is she not rather reckoned 
+queen of the gods, because she is superior to Jove? Is it because it would 
+be improper to set the daughter before the father? Why, then, is not that 
+rule of justice observed concerning Jove himself toward Saturn? Is it 
+because he was conquered? Have they fought then? By no means, say 
+they; that is an old wife’s fable. Lo, we are not to believe fables, and 
+must hold more worthy opinions concerning the gods! Why, then, do 
+they not assign to the father of Jove a seat, if not of higher, at least of 
+equal honour? Because Saturn, say they, is length of time.!! Therefore 
+they who worship Saturn worship Time; and it is insinuated that Jupiter, 
+the king of the gods, was born of Time. For is anything unworthy said 
+
+
+when Jupiter and Juno are said to have been sprung from Time, if he is 
+the heaven and she is the earth, since both heaven and earth have been 
+made, and are therefore not eternal? For their learned and wise men 
+have this also in their books. Nor is that saying taken by Virgil out of 
+poetic figments, but out of the books of philosophers. 
+
+
+“Then Ether, the Father Almighty, in copious showers descended Into his spouse’s glad 
+
+
+bosom, making it fertile,”!2 
+
+
+—that is, into the bosom of Tellus, or the earth. Although here, also, 
+they will have it that there are some differences, and think that in the 
+earth herself Terra is one thing, Tellus another, and Tellumo another. 
+And they have all these as gods, called by their own names, 
+distinguished by their own offices, and venerated with their own altars 
+and rites. This same earth also they call the mother of the gods, so that 
+even the fictions of the poets are more tolerable, if, according, not to 
+their poetical but sacred books, Juno is not only the sister and wife, but 
+also the mother of Jove. The same earth they worship as Ceres, and also 
+as Vesta; while yet they more frequently affirm that Vesta is nothing else 
+than fire, pertaining to the hearths, without which the city cannot exist; 
+and therefore virgins are wont to serve her, because as nothing is born of 
+a virgin, so nothing is born of fire;—but all this nonsense ought to be 
+completely abolished and extinguished by Him who is born of a virgin. 
+For who can bear that, while they ascribe to the fire so much honour, 
+and, as it were, chastity, they do not blush sometimes even to call Vesta 
+Venus, so that honoured virginity may vanish in her handmaidens? For if 
+Vesta is Venus, how can virgins rightly serve her by abstaining from 
+venery? Are there two Venuses, the one a virgin, the other not a maid? 
+Or rather, are there three, one the goddess of virgins, who is also called 
+Vesta, another the goddess of wives, and another of harlots? To her also 
+the Phenicians offered a gift by prostituting their daughters before they 
+united them to husbands.!3 Which of these is the wife of Vulcan? 
+Certainly not the virgin, since she has a husband. Far be it from us to say 
+it is the harlot, lest we should seem to wrong the son of Juno and fellow- 
+worker of Minerva. Therefore it is to be understood that she belongs to 
+the married people; but we would not wish them to imitate her in what 
+she did with Mars. “Again,” say they, “you return to fables.” What sort of 
+
+
+justice is that, to be angry with us because we say such things of their 
+gods, and not to be angry with themselves, who in their theatres most 
+willingly behold the crimes of their gods? And—a thing incredible, if it 
+were not thoroughly well proved—these very theatric representations of 
+the crimes of their gods have been instituted in honour of these same 
+gods. 
+
+
+11. Concerning the many gods whom the pagan doctors defend as being one and the same Jove 
+
+
+Let them therefore assert as many things as ever they please in 
+physical reasonings and disputations. One while let Jupiter be the soul of 
+this corporeal world, who fills and moves that whole mass, constructed 
+and compacted out of four, or as many elements as they please; another 
+while, let him yield to his sister and brothers their parts of it: now let 
+him be the ether, that from above he may embrace Juno, the air spread 
+out beneath; again, let him be the whole heaven along with the air, and 
+impregnate with fertilizing showers and seeds the earth, as his wife, and, 
+at the same time, his mother (for this is not vile in divine beings); and 
+yet again (that it may not be necessary to run through them all), let him, 
+the one god, of whom many think it has been said by a most noble poet, 
+or God pervadeth all things, 
+
+ll lands, and the tracts of the sea, and the depth of the heavens,”!4— 
+
+
+let it be him who in the ether is Jupiter; in the air, Juno; in the sea, 
+Neptune; in the lower parts of the sea, Salacia; in the earth, Pluto; in the 
+lower part of the earth, Proserpine; on the domestic hearths, Vesta; in 
+the furnace of the workmen, Vulcan; among the stars, Sol, and Luna, and 
+the Stars; in divination, Apollo; in merchandise, Mercury; in Janus, the 
+initiator; in Terminus, the terminator; Saturn, in time; Mars and Bellona, 
+in war; Liber, in vineyards; Ceres, in corn-fields; Diana, in forests; 
+Minerva, in learning. Finally, let it be him who is in that crowd, as it 
+were, of plebeian gods: let him preside under the name of Liber over the 
+seed of men, and under that of Libera over that of women: let him be 
+Diespiter, who brings forth the birth to the light of day: let him be the 
+goddess Mena, whom they set over the menstruation of women: let him 
+be Lucina, who is invoked by women in childbirth: let him bring help to 
+those who are being born, by taking them up from the bosom of the 
+earth, and let him be called Ops: let him open the mouth in the crying 
+
+
+babe, and be called the god Vaticanus: let him lift it from the earth, and 
+be called the goddess Levana; let him watch over cradles, and be called 
+the goddess Cunina: let it be no other than he who is in those goddesses, 
+who sing the fates of the new born, and are called Carmentes: let him 
+preside over fortuitous events, and be called Fortuna: in the goddess 
+Rumina, let him milk out the breast to the little one, because the 
+ancients termed the breast ruma: in the goddess Potina, let him 
+administer drink: in the goddess Educa, let him supply food: from the 
+terror of infants, let him be styled Paventia: from the hope which comes, 
+Venilia; from voluptuousness, Volupia; from action, Agenor: from the 
+stimulants by which man is spurred on to much action, let him be named 
+the goddess Stimula: let him be the goddess Strenia, for making 
+strenuous; Numeria, who teaches to number; Camoena, who teaches to 
+sing: let him be both the god Consus for granting counsel, and the 
+goddess Sentia for inspiring sentences: let him be the goddess Juventas, 
+who, after the robe of boyhood is laid aside, takes charge of the 
+beginning of the youthful age: let him be Fortuna Barbata, who endues 
+adults with a beard, whom they have not chosen to honour; so that this 
+divinity, whatever it may be, should at least be a male god, named either 
+Barbatus, from barba, like Nodotus, from nodus; or, certainly, not 
+Fortuna, but because he has beards, Fortunius: let him, in the god 
+Jugatinus, yoke couples in marriage; and when the girdle of the virgin 
+wife is loosed, let him be invoked as the goddess Virginiensis: let him be 
+Mutunus or Tuternus, who, among the Greeks, is called Priapus. If they 
+are not ashamed of it, let all these which I have named, and whatever 
+others I have not named (for I have not thought fit to name all), let all 
+these gods and goddesses be that one Jupiter, whether, as some will 
+have it, all these are parts of him, or are his powers, as those think who 
+are pleased to consider him the soul of the world, which is the opinion 
+of most of their doctors, and these the greatest. If these things are so 
+(how evil they may be I do not yet meanwhile inquire), what would they 
+lose, if they, by a more prudent abridgment, should worship one god? 
+For what part of him could be contemned if he himself should be 
+worshipped? But if they are afraid lest parts of him should be angry at 
+being passed by or neglected, then it is not the case, as they will have it, 
+that this whole is as the life of one living being, which contains all the 
+gods together, as if they were its virtues, or members, or parts; but each 
+
+
+part has its own life separate from the rest, if it is so that one can be 
+angered, appeased, or stirred up more than another. But if it is said that 
+all together—that is, the whole Jove himself—would be offended if his 
+parts were not also worshipped singly and minutely, it is foolishly 
+spoken. Surely none of them could be passed by if he who singly 
+possesses them all should be worshipped. For, to omit other things which 
+are innumerable, when they say that all the stars are parts of Jove, and 
+are all alive and have rational souls, and therefore without controversy 
+are gods, can they not see how many they do not worship, to how many 
+they do not build temples or set up altars, and to how very few, in fact, 
+of the stars they have thought of setting them up and offering sacrifice? 
+If, therefore, those are displeased who are not severally worshipped, do 
+they not fear to live with only a few appeased, while all heaven is 
+displeased? But if they worship all the stars because they are part of 
+Jove whom they worship, by the same compendious method they could 
+supplicate them all in him alone. For in this way no one would be 
+displeased, since in him alone all would be supplicated. No one would be 
+contemned, instead of there being just cause of displeasure given to the 
+much greater number who are passed by in the worship offered to some; 
+especially when Priapus, stretched out in vile nakedness, is preferred to 
+those who shine from their supernal abode. 
+
+
+12. Concerning the opinion of those who have thought that God is the soul of the world, and the 
+world is the body of God 
+
+
+Ought not men of intelligence, and indeed men of every kind, to be 
+stirred up to examine the nature of this opinion? For there is no need of 
+excellent capacity for this task, that putting away the desire of 
+contention, they may observe that if God is the soul of the world, and 
+the world is as a body to Him, who is the soul, He must be one living 
+being consisting of soul and body, and that this same God is a kind of 
+womb of nature containing all things in Himself, so that the lives and 
+souls of all living things are taken, according to the manner of each one’s 
+birth, out of His soul which vivifies that whole mass, and therefore 
+nothing at all remains which is not a part of God. And if this is so, who 
+cannot see what impious and irreligious consequences follow, such as 
+that whatever one may trample, he must trample a part of God, and in 
+slaying any living creature, a part of God must be slaughtered? But I am 
+
+
+unwilling to utter all that may occur to those who think of it, yet cannot 
+be spoken without irreverence. 
+
+
+13. Concerning those who assert that only rational animals are parts of the one God 
+
+
+But if they contend that only rational animals, such as men, are parts 
+of God, I do not really see how, if the whole world is God, they can 
+separate beasts from being parts of Him. But what need is there of 
+striving about that? Concerning the rational animal himself—that is, 
+man—what more unhappy belief can be entertained than that a part of 
+God is whipped when a boy is whipped? And who, unless he is quite 
+mad, could bear the thought that parts of God can become lascivious, 
+iniquitous, impious, and altogether damnable? In brief, why is God 
+angry at those who do not worship Him, since these offenders are parts 
+of Himself? It remains, therefore, that they must say that all the gods 
+have their own lives; that each one lives for himself, and none of them is 
+a part of any one; but that all are to be worshipped—at least as many as 
+can be known and worshipped; for they are so many it is impossible that 
+all can be so. And of all these, I believe that Jupiter, because he presides 
+as king, is thought by them to have both established and extended the 
+Roman empire. For if he has not done it, what other god do they believe 
+could have attempted so great a work, when they must all be occupied 
+with their own offices and works, nor can one intrude on that of 
+another? Could the kingdom of men then be propagated and increased 
+by the king of the gods? 
+
+
+14. The enlargement of kingdoms is unsuitably ascribed to Jove; for if, as they will have it, Victoria 
+
+
+is a goddess, she alone would suffice for this business 
+
+
+Here, first of all, I ask, why even the kingdom itself is not some god? 
+For why should not it also be so, if Victory is a goddess? Or what need is 
+there of Jove himself in this affair, if Victory favours and is propitious, 
+and always goes to those whom she wishes to be victorious? With this 
+goddess favourable and propitious, even if Jove was idle and did 
+nothing, what nations could remain unsubdued, what kingdom would 
+not yield? But perhaps it is displeasing to good men to fight with most 
+wicked unrighteousness, and provoke with voluntary war neighbours 
+who are peaceable and do no wrong, in order to enlarge a kingdom? If 
+they feel thus, I entirely approve and praise them. 
+
+
+15. Whether it is suitable for good men to wish to rule more widely 
+
+
+Let them ask, then, whether it is quite fitting for good men to rejoice 
+in extended empire. For the iniquity of those with whom just wars are 
+carried on favours the growth of a kingdom, which would certainly have 
+been small if the peace and justice of neighbours had not by any wrong 
+provoked the carrying on of war against them; and human affairs being 
+thus more happy, all kingdoms would have been small, rejoicing in 
+neighbourly concord; and thus there would have been very many 
+kingdoms of nations in the world, as there are very many houses of 
+citizens in a city. Therefore, to carry on war and extend a kingdom over 
+wholly subdued nations seems to bad men to be felicity, to good men 
+necessity. But because it would be worse that the injurious should rule 
+over those who are more righteous, therefore even that is not unsuitably 
+called felicity. But beyond doubt it is greater felicity to have a good 
+neighbour at peace, than to conquer a bad one by making war. Your 
+wishes are bad, when you desire that one whom you hate or fear should 
+be in such a condition that you can conquer him. If, therefore, by 
+carrying on wars that were just, not impious or unrighteous, the Romans 
+could have acquired so great an empire, ought they not to worship as a 
+goddess even the injustice of foreigners? For we see that this has co- 
+operated much in extending the empire, by making foreigners so unjust 
+that they became people with whom just wars might be carried on, and 
+the empire increased. And why may not injustice, at least that of foreign 
+nations, also be a goddess, if Fear and Dread, and Ague have deserved to 
+be Roman gods? By these two, therefore—that is, by foreign injustice, 
+and the goddess Victoria, for injustice stirs up causes of wars, and 
+Victoria brings these same wars to a happy termination—the empire has 
+increased, even although Jove has been idle. For what part could Jove 
+have here, when those things which might be thought to be his benefits 
+are held to be gods, called gods, worshipped as gods, and are themselves 
+invoked for their own parts? He also might have some part here, if he 
+himself might be called Empire, just as she is called Victory. Or if empire 
+is the gift of Jove, why may not victory also be held to be his gift? And it 
+certainly would have been held to be so, had he been recognised and 
+worshipped, not as a stone in the Capitol, but as the true King of kings 
+and Lord of lords. 
+
+
+16. What was the reason why the Romans, in detailing separate gods for all things and all 
+
+
+movements of the mind, chose to have the temple of Quiet outside the gates 
+
+
+But I wonder very much, that while they assigned to separate gods 
+single things, and (well nigh) all movements of the mind; that while they 
+invoked the goddess Agenoria, who should excite to action; the goddess 
+Stimula, who should stimulate to unusual action; the goddess Murcia, 
+who should not move men beyond measure, but make them, as 
+Pomponius says, murcid—that is, too slothful and inactive; the goddess 
+Strenua, who should make them strenuous; and that while they offered 
+to all these gods and goddesses solemn and public worship, they should 
+yet have been unwilling to give public acknowledgment to her whom 
+they name Quies because she makes men quiet, but built her temple 
+outside the Colline gate. Whether was this a symptom of an unquiet 
+mind, or rather was it thus intimated that he who should persevere in 
+worshipping that crowd, not, to be sure, of gods, but of demons, could 
+not dwell with quiet; to which the true Physician calls, saying, “Learn of 
+me, for I am meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest unto your 
+souls?” 
+
+
+17. Whether, if the highest power belongs to Jove, Victoria also ought to be worshipped 
+
+
+Or do they say, perhaps, that Jupiter sends the goddess Victoria, and 
+that she, as it were, acting in obedience to the king of the gods, comes to 
+those to whom he may have despatched her, and takes up her quarters 
+on their side? This is truly said, not of Jove, whom they, according to 
+their own imagination, feign to be king of the gods, but of Him who is 
+the true eternal King, because he sends, not Victory, who is no person, 
+but His angel, and causes whom He pleases to conquer; whose counsel 
+may be hidden, but cannot be unjust. For if Victory is a goddess, why is 
+not Triumph also a god, and joined to Victory either as husband, or 
+brother, or son? Indeed, they have imagined such things concerning the 
+gods, that if the poets had feigned the like, and they should have been 
+discussed by us, they would have replied that they were laughable 
+figments of the poets not to be attributed to true deities. And yet they 
+themselves did not laugh when they were, not reading in the poets, but 
+worshipping in the temples such doating follies. Therefore they should 
+entreat Jove alone for all things, and supplicate him only. For if Victory 
+is a goddess, and is under him as her king, wherever he might have sent 
+
+
+her, she could not dare to resist and do her own will rather than his. 
+
+
+18. With what reason they who think Felicity and Fortune goddesses have distinguished them 
+
+
+What shall we say, besides, of the idea that Felicity also is a goddess? 
+She has received a temple; she has merited an altar; suitable rites of 
+worship are paid to her. She alone, then, should be worshipped. For 
+where she is present, what good thing can be absent? But what does a 
+man wish, that he thinks Fortune also a goddess and worships her? Is 
+felicity one thing, fortune another? Fortune, indeed, may be bad as well 
+as good; but felicity, if it could be bad, would not be felicity. Certainly 
+we ought to think all the gods of either sex (if they also have sex) are 
+only good. This says Plato; this say other philosophers; this say all 
+estimable rulers of the republic and the nations. How is it, then, that the 
+goddess Fortune is sometimes good, sometimes bad? Is it perhaps the 
+case that when she is bad she is not a goddess, but is suddenly changed 
+into a malignant demon? How many Fortunes are there then? Just as 
+many as there are men who are fortunate, that is, of good fortune. But 
+since there must also be very many others who at the very same time are 
+men of bad fortune, could she, being one and the same Fortune, be at 
+the same time both bad and good—the one to these, the other to those? 
+She who is the goddess, is she always good? Then she herself is felicity. 
+Why, then, are two names given her? Yet this is tolerable; for it is 
+customary that one thing should be called by two names. But why 
+different temples, different altars, different rituals? There is a reason, say 
+they, because Felicity is she whom the good have by previous merit; but 
+fortune, which is termed good without any trial of merit, befalls both 
+good and bad men fortuitously, whence also she is named Fortune. How, 
+therefore, is she good, who without any discernment comes both to the 
+good and to the bad? Why is she worshipped, who is thus blind, running 
+at random on any one whatever, so that for the most part she passes by 
+her worshippers, and cleaves to those who despise her? Or if her 
+worshippers profit somewhat, so that they are seen by her and loved, 
+then she follows merit, and does not come fortuitously. What, then, 
+becomes of that definition of fortune? What becomes of the opinion that 
+she has received her very name from fortuitous events? For it profits one 
+nothing to worship her if she is truly fortune. But if she distinguishes her 
+worshippers, so that she may benefit them, she is not fortune. Or does 
+
+
+Jupiter send her too, whither he pleases? Then let him alone be 
+worshipped; because Fortune is not able to resist him when he 
+commands her, and sends her where he pleases. Or, at least, let the bad 
+worship her, who do not choose to have merit by which the goddess 
+Felicity might be invited. 
+
+
+19. Concerning Fortuna Muliebris!* 
+
+
+To this supposed deity, whom they call Fortuna, they ascribe so much, 
+indeed, that they have a tradition that the image of her, which was 
+dedicated by the Roman matrons, and called Fortuna Muliebris, has 
+spoken, and has said, once and again, that the matrons pleased her by 
+their homage; which, indeed, if it is true, ought not to excite our 
+wonder. For it is not so difficult for malignant demons to deceive, and 
+they ought the rather to advert to their wits and wiles, because it is that 
+goddess who comes by haphazard who has spoken, and not she who 
+comes to reward merit. For Fortuna was loquacious, and Felicitas mute; 
+and for what other reason but that men might not care to live rightly, 
+having made Fortuna their friend, who could make them fortunate 
+without any good desert? And truly, if Fortuna speaks, she should at 
+least speak, not with a womanly, but with a manly voice; lest they 
+themselves who have dedicated the image should think so great a 
+miracle has been wrought by feminine loquacity. 
+
+
+20. Concerning Virtue and Faith, which the pagans have honoured with temples and sacred rites, 
+passing by other good qualities, which ought likewise to have been worshipped, if deity was 
+rightly attributed to these 
+
+
+They have made Virtue also a goddess, which, indeed, if it could be a 
+goddess, had been preferable to many. And now, because it is not a 
+goddess, but a gift of God, let it be obtained by prayer from Him, by 
+whom alone it can be given, and the whole crowd of false gods vanishes. 
+But why is Faith believed to be a goddess, and why does she herself 
+receive temple and altar? For whoever prudently acknowledges her 
+makes his own self an abode for her. But how do they know what faith 
+is, of which it is the prime and greatest function that the true God may 
+be believed in? But why had not virtue sufficed? Does it not include faith 
+also? Forasmuch as they have thought proper to distribute virtue into 
+four divisions—prudence, justice, fortitude, and temperance—and as 
+
+
+each of these divisions has its own virtues, faith is among the parts of 
+justice, and has the chief place with as many of us as know what that 
+saying means, “The just shall live by faith.”!© But if Faith is a goddess, I 
+wonder why these keen lovers of a multitude of gods have wronged so 
+many other goddesses, by passing them by, when they could have 
+dedicated temples and altars to them likewise. Why has temperance not 
+deserved to be a goddess, when some Roman princes have obtained no 
+small glory on account of her? Why, in fine, is fortitude not a goddess, 
+who aided Mucius when he thrust his right hand into the flames; who 
+aided Curtius, when for the sake of his country he threw himself 
+headlong into the yawning earth; who aided Decius the sire, and Decius 
+the son, when they devoted themselves for the army?—though we might 
+question whether these man had true fortitude, if this concerned our 
+present discussion. Why have prudence and wisdom merited no place 
+among the gods? Is it because they are all worshipped under the general 
+name of Virtue itself? Then they could thus worship the true God also, of 
+whom all the other gods are thought to be parts. But in that one name of 
+virtue is comprehended both faith and chastity, which yet have obtained 
+separate altars in temples of their own. 
+
+
+21. That although not understanding them to be the gifts of God, they ought at least to have been 
+content with Virtue and Felicity 
+
+
+These, not verity but vanity has made goddesses. For these are gifts of 
+the true God, not themselves goddesses. However, where virtue and 
+felicity are, what else is sought for? What can suffice the man whom 
+virtue and felicity do not suffice? For surely virtue comprehends all 
+things we need do, felicity all things we need wish for. If Jupiter, then, 
+was worshipped in order that he might give these two things—because, 
+if extent and duration of empire is something good, it pertains to this 
+same felicity—why is it not understood that they are not goddesses, but 
+the gifts of God? But if they are judged to be goddesses, then at least that 
+other great crowd of gods should not be sought after. For, having 
+considered all the offices which their fancy has distributed among the 
+various gods and goddesses, let them find out, if they can, anything 
+which could be bestowed by any god whatever on a man possessing 
+virtue, possessing felicity. What instruction could be sought either from 
+Mercury or Minerva, when Virtue already possessed all in herself? 
+
+
+Virtue, indeed, is defined by the ancients as itself the art of living well 
+and rightly. Hence, because virtue is called in Greek #p¢™4, it has been 
+thought the Latins have derived from it the term art. But if Virtue cannot 
+come except to the clever, what need was there of the god Father Catius, 
+who should make men cautious, that is, acute, when Felicity could 
+confer this? Because, to be born clever belongs to felicity. Whence, 
+although goddess Felicity could not be worshipped by one not yet born, 
+in order that, being made his friend, she might bestow this on him, yet 
+she might confer this favour on parents who were her worshippers, that 
+clever children should be born to them. What need had women in 
+childbirth to invoke Lucina, when, if Felicity should be present, they 
+would have, not only a good delivery, but good children too? What need 
+was there to commend the children to the goddess Ops when they were 
+being born; to the god Vaticanus in their birth-cry; to the goddess 
+Cunina when lying cradled; to the goddess Rumina when sucking; to the 
+god Statilinus when standing; to the goddess Adeona when coming; to 
+Abeona when going away; to the goddess Mens that they might have a 
+good mind; to the god Volumnus, and the goddess Volumna, that they 
+might wish for good things; to the nuptial gods, that they might make 
+good matches; to the rural gods, and chiefly to the goddess Fructesca 
+herself, that they might receive the most abundant fruits; to Mars and 
+Bellona, that they might carry on war well; to the goddess Victoria, that 
+they might be victorious; to the god Honor, that they might be 
+honoured; to the goddess Pecunia, that they might have plenty money; 
+to the god Aesculanus, and his son Argentinus, that they might have 
+brass and silver coin? For they set down Aesculanus as the father of 
+Argentinus for this reason, that brass coin began to be used before silver. 
+But I wonder Argentinus has not begotten Aurinus, since gold coin also 
+has followed. Could they have him for a god, they would prefer Aurinus 
+both to his father Argentinus and his grandfather Aesculanus, just as 
+they set Jove before Saturn. Therefore, what necessity was there on 
+account of these gifts, either of soul, or body, or outward estate, to 
+worship and invoke so great a crowd of gods, all of whom I have not 
+mentioned, nor have they themselves been able to provide for all human 
+benefits, minutely and singly methodized, minute and single gods, when 
+the one goddess Felicity was able, with the greatest ease, compendiously 
+to bestow the whole of them? nor should any other be sought after, 
+
+
+either for the bestowing of good things, or for the averting of evil. For 
+why should they invoke the goddess Fessonia for the weary; for driving 
+away enemies, the goddess Pellonia; for the sick, as a physician, either 
+Apollo or Aisculapius, or both together if there should be great danger? 
+Neither should the god Spiniensis be entreated that he might root out 
+the thorns from the fields; nor the goddess Rubigo that the mildew might 
+not come—Felicitas alone being present and guarding, either no evils 
+would have arisen, or they would have been quite easily driven away. 
+Finally, since we treat of these two goddesses, Virtue and Felicity, if 
+felicity is the reward of virtue, she is not a goddess, but a gift of God. 
+But if she is a goddess, why may she not be said to confer virtue itself, 
+inasmuch as it is a great felicity to attain virtue? 
+
+
+22. Concerning the knowledge of the worship due to the gods, which Varro glories in having 
+
+
+himself conferred on the Romans 
+
+
+What is it, then, that Varro boasts he has bestowed as a very great 
+benefit on his fellow-citizens, because he not only recounts the gods who 
+ought to be worshipped by the Romans, but also tells what pertains to 
+each of them? “Just as it is of no advantage,” he says, “to know the 
+name and appearance of any man who is a physician, and not know that 
+he is a physician, so,” he says, “it is of no advantage to know well that 
+Aésculapius is a god, if you are not aware that he can bestow the gift of 
+health, and consequently do not know why you ought to supplicate 
+him.” He also affirms this by another comparison, saying, “No one is 
+able, not only to live well, but even to live at all, if he does not know 
+who is a smith, who a baker, who a weaver, from whom he can seek any 
+utensil, whom he may take for a helper, whom for a leader, whom for a 
+teacher;” asserting, “that in this way it can be doubtful to no one, that 
+thus the knowledge of the gods is useful, if one can know what force, 
+and faculty, or power any god may have in anything. For from this we 
+may be able,” he says, “to know what god we ought to call to, and 
+invoke for any cause; lest we should do as too many are wont to do, and 
+desire water from Liber, and wine from Lymphs.” Very useful, forsooth! 
+Who would not give this man thanks if he could show true things, and if 
+he could teach that the one true God, from whom all good things are, is 
+to be worshipped by men? 
+
+
+23. Concerning Felicity, whom the Romans, who venerate many gods, for a long time did not 
+
+
+worship with divine honour, though she alone would have sufficed instead of all 
+
+
+But how does it happen, if their books and rituals are true, and 
+Felicity is a goddess, that she herself is not appointed as the only one to 
+be worshipped, since she could confer all things, and all at once make 
+men happy? For who wishes anything for any other reason than that he 
+may become happy? Why was it left to Lucullus to dedicate a temple to 
+so great a goddess at so late a date, and after so many Roman rulers? 
+Why did Romulus himself, ambitious as he was of founding a fortunate 
+city, not erect a temple to this goddess before all others? Why did he 
+supplicate the other gods for anything, since he would have lacked 
+nothing had she been with him? For even he himself would neither have 
+been first a king, then afterwards, as they think, a god, if this goddess 
+had not been propitious to him. Why, therefore, did he appoint as gods 
+for the Romans, Janus, Jove, Mars, Picus, Faunus, Tiberinus, Hercules, 
+and others, if there were more of them? Why did Titus Tatius add 
+Saturn, Ops, Sun, Moon, Vulcan, Light, and whatever others he added, 
+among whom was even the goddess Cloacina, while Felicity was 
+neglected? Why did Numa appoint so many gods and so many goddesses 
+without this one? Was it perhaps because he could not see her among so 
+great a crowd? Certainly king Hostilius would not have introduced the 
+new gods Fear and Dread to be propitiated, if he could have known or 
+might have worshipped this goddess. For, in presence of Felicity, Fear 
+and Dread would have disappeared—I do not say propitiated, but put to 
+flight. Next, I ask, how is it that the Roman empire had already 
+immensely increased before any one worshipped Felicity? Was the 
+empire, therefore, more great than happy? For how could true felicity be 
+there, where there was not true piety? For piety is the genuine worship 
+of the true God, and not the worship of as many demons as there are 
+false gods. Yet even afterwards, when Felicity had already been taken 
+into the number of the gods, the great infelicity of the civil wars ensued. 
+Was Felicity perhaps justly indignant, both because she was invited so 
+late, and was invited not to honour, but rather to reproach, because 
+along with her were worshipped Priapus, and Cloacina, and Fear and 
+Dread, and Ague, and others which were not gods to be worshipped, but 
+the crimes of the worshippers? Last of all, if it seemed good to worship 
+so great a goddess along with a most unworthy crowd, why at least was 
+
+
+she not worshipped in a more honourable way than the rest? For is it not 
+intolerable that Felicity is placed neither among the gods Consentes,17 
+whom they allege to be admitted into the council of Jupiter, nor among 
+the gods whom they term Select? Some temple might be made for her 
+which might be pre-eminent, both in loftiness of site and dignity of style. 
+Why, indeed, not something better than is made for Jupiter himself? For 
+who gave the kingdom even to Jupiter but Felicity? I am supposing that 
+when he reigned he was happy. Felicity, however, is certainly more 
+valuable than a kingdom. For no one doubts that a man might easily be 
+found who may fear to be made a king; but no one is found who is 
+unwilling to be happy. Therefore, if it is thought they can be consulted 
+by augury, or in any other way, the gods themselves should be consulted 
+about this thing, whether they may wish to give place to Felicity. If, 
+perchance, the place should already be occupied by the temples and 
+altars of others, where a greater and more lofty temple might be built to 
+Felicity, even Jupiter himself might give way, so that Felicity might 
+rather obtain the very pinnacle of the Capitoline hill. For there is not any 
+one who would resist Felicity, except, which is impossible, one who 
+might wish to be unhappy. Certainly, if he should be consulted, Jupiter 
+would in no case do what those three gods, Mars, Terminus, and 
+Juventas, did, who positively refused to give place to their superior and 
+king. For, as their books record, when king Tarquin wished to construct 
+the Capitol, and perceived that the place which seemed to him to be the 
+most worthy and suitable was preoccupied by other gods, not daring to 
+do anything contrary to their pleasure, and believing that they would 
+willingly give place to a god who was so great, and was their own 
+master, because there were many of them there when the Capitol was 
+founded, he inquired by augury whether they chose to give place to 
+Jupiter, and they were all willing to remove thence except those whom I 
+have named, Mars, Terminus, and Juventas; and therefore the Capitol 
+was built in such a way that these three also might be within it, yet with 
+such obscure signs that even the most learned men could scarcely know 
+this. Surely, then, Jupiter himself would by no means despise Felicity as 
+he was himself despised by Terminus, Mars, and Juventas. But even they 
+themselves who had not given place to Jupiter, would certainly give 
+place to Felicity, who had made Jupiter king over them. Or if they 
+should not give place, they would act thus not out of contempt of her, 
+
+
+but because they chose rather to be obscure in the house of Felicity, than 
+to be eminent without her in their own places. 
+
+Thus the goddess Felicity being established in the largest and loftiest 
+place, the citizens should learn whence the furtherance of every good 
+desire should be sought. And so, by the persuasion of nature herself the 
+superfluous multitude of other gods being abandoned, Felicity alone 
+would be worshipped, prayer would be made to her alone, her temple 
+alone would be frequented by the citizens who wished to be happy, 
+which no one of them would not wish; and thus felicity, who was sought 
+for from all the gods, would be sought for only from her own self. For 
+who wishes to receive from any god anything else than felicity, or what 
+he supposes to tend to felicity? Wherefore, if Felicity has it in her power 
+to be with what man she pleases (and she has it if she is a goddess), 
+what folly is it, after all, to seek from any other god her whom you can 
+obtain by request from her own self! Therefore they ought to honour this 
+goddess above other gods, even by dignity of place. For, as we read in 
+their own authors, the ancient Romans paid greater honours to I know 
+not what Summanus, to whom they attributed nocturnal thunderbolts, 
+than to Jupiter, to whom diurnal thunderbolts were held to pertain. But, 
+after a famous and conspicuous temple had been built to Jupiter, owing 
+to the dignity of the building, the multitude resorted to him in so great 
+numbers, that scarce one can be found who remembers even to have 
+read the name of Summanus, which now he cannot once hear named. 
+But if Felicity is not a goddess, because, as is true, it is a gift of God, that 
+god must be sought who has power to give it, and that hurtful multitude 
+of false gods must be abandoned which the vain multitude of foolish 
+men follows after, making gods to itself of the gifts of God, and 
+offending Himself whose gifts they are by the stubbornness of a proud 
+will. For he cannot be free from infelicity who worships Felicity as a 
+goddess, and forsakes God, the giver of felicity; just as he cannot be free 
+from hunger who licks a painted loaf of bread, and does not buy it of the 
+man who has a real one. 
+
+
+24. The reasons by which the pagans attempt to defend their worshipping among the gods the 
+divine gifts themselves 
+
+
+We may, however, consider their reasons. Is it to be believed, say 
+they, that our forefathers were besotted even to such a degree as not to 
+
+
+know that these things are divine gifts, and not gods? But as they knew 
+that such things are granted to no one, except by some god freely 
+bestowing them, they called the gods whose names they did not find out 
+by the names of those things which they deemed to be given by them; 
+sometimes slightly altering the name for that purpose, as, for example, 
+from war they have named Bellona, not bellum; from cradles, Cunina, not 
+cune; from standing corn, Segetia, not seges; from apples, Pomona, not 
+pomum; from oxen, Bubona, not bos. Sometimes, again, with no 
+alteration of the word, just as the things themselves are named, so that 
+the goddess who gives money is called Pecunia, and money is not 
+thought to be itself a goddess: so of Virtus, who gives virtue; Honor, who 
+gives honour; Concordia, who gives concord; Victoria, who gives victory. 
+So, they say, when Felicitas is called a goddess, what is meant is not the 
+thing itself which is given, but that deity by whom felicity is given. 
+
+
+25. Concerning the one God only to be worshipped, who, although His name is unknown, is yet 
+deemed to be the giver of felicity 
+
+
+Having had that reason rendered to us, we shall perhaps much more 
+easily persuade, as we wish, those whose heart has not become too much 
+hardened. For if now human infirmity has perceived that felicity cannot 
+be given except by some god; if this was perceived by those who 
+worshipped so many gods, at whose head they set Jupiter himself; if, in 
+their ignorance of the name of Him by whom felicity was given, they 
+agreed to call Him by the name of that very thing which they believed 
+He gave;—then it follows that they thought that felicity could not be 
+given even by Jupiter himself, whom they already worshipped, but 
+certainly by him whom they thought fit to worship under the name of 
+Felicity itself. I thoroughly affirm the statement that they believed 
+felicity to be given by a certain God whom they knew not: let Him 
+therefore be sought after, let Him be worshipped, and it is enough. Let 
+the train of innumerable demons be repudiated, and let this God suffice 
+every man whom his gift suffices. For him, I say, God the giver of felicity 
+will not be enough to worship, for whom felicity itself is not enough to 
+receive. But let him for whom it suffices (and man has nothing more he 
+ought to wish for) serve the one God, the giver of felicity. This God is 
+not he whom they call Jupiter. For if they acknowledged him to be the 
+giver of felicity, they would not seek, under the name of Felicity itself, 
+
+
+for another god or goddess by whom felicity might be given; nor could 
+they tolerate that Jupiter himself should be worshipped with such 
+infamous attributes. For he is said to be the debaucher of the wives of 
+others; he is the shameless lover and ravisher of a beautiful boy. 
+
+
+26. Of the scenic plays, the celebration of which the gods have exacted from their worshippers 
+
+
+“But,” says Cicero, “Homer invented these things, and transferred 
+things human to the gods: I would rather transfer things divine to us.”18 
+The poet, by ascribing such crimes to the gods, has justly displeased the 
+grave man. Why, then, are the scenic plays, where these crimes are 
+habitually spoken of, acted, exhibited, in honour of the gods, reckoned 
+among things divine by the most learned men? Cicero should exclaim, 
+not against the inventions of the poets, but against the customs of the 
+ancients. Would not they have exclaimed in reply, What have we done? 
+The gods themselves have loudly demanded that these plays should be 
+exhibited in their honour, have fiercely exacted them, have menaced 
+destruction unless this was performed, have avenged its neglect with 
+great severity, and have manifested pleasure at the reparation of such 
+neglect. Among their virtuous and wonderful deeds the following is 
+related. It was announced in a dream to Titus Latinius, a Roman rustic, 
+that he should go to the senate and tell them to recommence the games 
+of Rome, because on the first day of their celebration a condemned 
+criminal had been led to punishment in sight of the people, an incident 
+so sad as to disturb the gods who were seeking amusement from the 
+games. And when the peasant who had received this intimation was 
+afraid on the following day to deliver it to the senate, it was renewed 
+next night in a severer form: he lost his son, because of his neglect. On 
+the third night he was warned that a yet graver punishment was 
+impending, if he should still refuse obedience. When even thus he did 
+not dare to obey, he fell into a virulent and horrible disease. But then, on 
+the advice of his friends, he gave information to the magistrates, and 
+was carried in a litter into the senate, and having, on declaring his 
+dream, immediately recovered strength, went away on his own feet 
+whole.19 The senate, amazed at so great a miracle, decreed that the 
+games should be renewed at fourfold cost. What sensible man does not 
+see that men, being put upon by malignant demons, from whose 
+domination nothing save the grace of God through Jesus Christ our Lord 
+
+
+sets free, have been compelled by force to exhibit to such gods as these, 
+plays which, if well advised, they should condemn as shameful? Certain 
+it is that in these plays the poetic crimes of the gods are celebrated, yet 
+they are plays which were re-established by decree of the senate, under 
+compulsion of the gods. In these plays the most shameless actors 
+celebrated Jupiter as the corrupter of chastity, and thus gave him 
+pleasure. If that was a fiction, he would have been moved to anger; but 
+if he was delighted with the representation of his crimes, even although 
+fabulous, then, when he happened to be worshipped, who but the devil 
+could be served? Is it so that he could found, extend, and preserve the 
+Roman empire, who was more vile than any Roman man whatever, to 
+whom such things were displeasing? Could he give felicity who was so 
+infelicitously worshipped, and who, unless he should be thus 
+worshipped, was yet more infelicitously provoked to anger? 
+
+
+27. Concerning the three kinds of gods about which the pontiff Sceevola has discoursed 
+
+
+It is recorded that the very learned pontiff Scevola2° had 
+distinguished about three kinds of gods—one introduced by the poets, 
+another by the philosophers, another by the statesmen. The first kind he 
+declares to be trifling, because many unworthy things have been 
+invented by the poets concerning the gods; the second does not suit 
+states, because it contains some things that are superfluous, and some, 
+too, which it would be prejudicial for the people to know. It is no great 
+matter about the superfiuous things, for it is a common saying of skilful 
+lawyers, “Superfluous things do no harm.”2! But what are those things 
+which do harm when brought before the multitude? “These,” he says, 
+“that Hercules, Aisculapius, Castor and Pollux, are not gods; for it is 
+declared by learned men that these were but men, and yielded to the 
+common lot of mortals.” What else? “That states have not the true 
+images of the gods; because the true God has neither sex, nor age, nor 
+definite corporeal members.” The pontiff is not willing that the people 
+should know these things; for he does not think they are false. He thinks 
+it expedient, therefore, that states should be deceived in matters of 
+religion; which Varro himself does not hesitate even to say in his books 
+about things divine. Excellent religion! to which the weak, who requires 
+to be delivered, may flee for succour; and when he seeks for the truth by 
+which he may be delivered, it is believed to be expedient for him that he 
+
+
+be deceived. And, truly, in these same books, Sczvola is not silent as to 
+his reason for rejecting the poetic sort of gods—to wit, “because they so 
+disfigure the gods that they could not bear comparison even with good 
+men, when they make one to commit theft, another adultery; or, again, 
+to say or do something else basely and foolishly; as that three goddesses 
+contested (with each other) the prize of beauty, and the two vanquished 
+by Venus destroyed Troy; that Jupiter turned himself into a bull or swan 
+that he might copulate with some one; that a goddess married a man, 
+and Saturn devoured his children; that, in fine, there is nothing that 
+could be imagined, either of the miraculous or vicious, which may not 
+be found there, and yet is far removed from the nature of the gods.” O 
+chief pontiff Sceevola, take away the plays if thou art able; instruct the 
+people that they may not offer such honours to the immortal gods, in 
+which, if they like, they may admire the crimes of the gods, and, so far 
+as it is possible, may, if they please, imitate them. But if the people shall 
+have answered thee, You, O pontiff, have brought these things in among 
+us, then ask the gods themselves at whose instigation you have ordered 
+these things, that they may not order such things to be offered to them. 
+For if they are bad, and therefore in no way to be believed concerning 
+the majority of the gods, the greater is the wrong done the gods about 
+whom they are feigned with impunity. But they do not hear thee, they 
+are demons, they teach wicked things, they rejoice in vile things; not 
+only do they not count it a wrong if these things are feigned about them, 
+but it is a wrong they are quite unable to bear if they are not acted at 
+their stated festivals. But now, if thou wouldst call on Jupiter against 
+them, chiefly for that reason that more of his crimes are wont to be 
+acted in the scenic plays, is it not the case that, although you call him 
+god Jupiter, by whom this whole world is ruled and administered, it is 
+he to whom the greatest wrong is done by you, because you have 
+thought he ought to be worshipped along with them, and have styled 
+him their king? 
+
+
+28. Whether the worship of the gods has been of service to the Romans in obtaining and 
+extending the empire 
+
+
+Therefore such gods, who are propitiated by such honours, or rather 
+are impeached by them (for it is a greater crime to delight in having 
+such things said of them falsely, than even if they could be said truly), 
+
+
+could never by any means have been able to increase and preserve the 
+Roman empire. For if they could have done it, they would rather have 
+bestowed so grand a gift on the Greeks, who, in this kind of divine 
+things—that is, in scenic plays—have worshipped them more 
+honourably and worthily, although they have not exempted themselves 
+from those slanders of the poets, by whom they saw the gods torn in 
+pieces, giving them licence to ill-use any man they pleased, and have not 
+deemed the scenic players themselves to be base, but have held them 
+worthy even of distinguished honour. But just as the Romans were able 
+to have gold money, although they did not worship a god Aurinus, so 
+also they could have silver and brass coin, and yet worship neither 
+Argentinus nor his father Aésculanus; and so of all the rest, which it 
+would be irksome for me to detail. It follows, therefore, both that they 
+could not by any means attain such dominion if the true God was 
+unwilling; and that if these gods, false and many, were unknown or 
+contemned, and He alone was known and worshipped with sincere faith 
+and virtue, they would both have a better kingdom here, whatever might 
+be its extent, and whether they might have one here or not, would 
+afterwards receive an eternal kingdom. 
+
+
+29. Of the falsity of the augury by which the strength and stability of the Roman empire was 
+considered to be indicated 
+
+
+For what kind of augury is that which they have declared to be most 
+beautiful, and to which I referred a little ago, that Mars, and Terminus, 
+and Juventas would not give place even to Jove the king of the gods? 
+For thus, they say, it was signified that the nation dedicated to Mars— 
+that is, the Roman—should yield to none the place it once occupied; 
+likewise, that on account of the god Terminus, no one would be able to 
+disturb the Roman frontiers; and also, that the Roman youth, because of 
+the goddess Juventas, should yield to no one. Let them see, therefore, 
+how they can hold him to be the king of their gods, and the giver of 
+their own kingdom, if these auguries set him down for an adversary, to 
+whom it would have been honourable not to yield. However, if these 
+things are true, they need not be at all afraid. For they are not going to 
+confess that the gods who would not yield to Jove have yielded to 
+Christ. For, without altering the boundaries of the empire, Jesus Christ 
+has proved Himself able to drive them, not only from their temples, but 
+
+
+from the hearts of their worshippers. But, before Christ came in the 
+flesh, and, indeed, before these things which we have quoted from their 
+books could have been written, but yet after that auspice was made 
+under king Tarquin, the Roman army has been divers times scattered or 
+put to flight, and has shown the falseness of the auspice, which they 
+derived from the fact that the goddess Juventas had not given place to 
+Jove; and the nation dedicated to Mars was trodden down in the city 
+itself by the invading and triumphant Gauls; and the boundaries of the 
+empire, through the falling away of many cities to Hannibal, had been 
+hemmed into a narrow space. Thus the beauty of the auspices is made 
+void, and there has remained only the contumacy against Jove, not of 
+gods, but of demons. For it is one thing not to have yielded, and another 
+to have returned whither you have yielded. Besides, even afterwards, in 
+the oriental regions, the boundaries of the Roman empire were changed 
+by the will of Hadrian; for he yielded up to the Persian empire those 
+three noble provinces, Armenia, Mesopotamia, and Assyria. Thus that 
+god Terminus, who according to these books was the guardian of the 
+Roman frontiers, and by that most beautiful auspice had not given place 
+to Jove, would seem to have been more afraid of Hadrian, a king of men, 
+than of the king of the gods. The aforesaid provinces having also been 
+taken back again, almost within our own recollection the frontier fell 
+back, when Julian, given up to the oracles of their gods, with 
+immoderate daring ordered the victualling ships to be set on fire. The 
+army being thus left destitute of provisions, and he himself also being 
+presently killed by the enemy, and the legions being hard pressed, while 
+dismayed by the loss of their commander, they were reduced to such 
+extremities that no one could have escaped, unless by articles of peace 
+the boundaries of the empire had then been established where they still 
+remain; not, indeed, with so great a loss as was suffered by the 
+concession of Hadrian, but still at a considerable sacrifice. It was a vain 
+augury, then, that the god Terminus did not yield to Jove, since he 
+yielded to the will of Hadrian, and yielded also to the rashness of Julian, 
+and the necessity of Jovinian. The more intelligent and grave Romans 
+have seen these things, but have had little power against the custom of 
+the state, which was bound to observe the rites of the demons; because 
+even they themselves, although they perceived that these things were 
+vain, yet thought that the religious worship which is due to God should 
+
+
+be paid to the nature of things which is established under the rule and 
+government of the one true God, “serving,” as saith the apostle, “the 
+creature more than the Creator, who is blessed for evermore.”22 The help 
+of this true God was necessary to send holy and truly pious men, who 
+would die for the true religion that they might remove the false from 
+among the living. 
+
+
+30. What kind of things even their worshippers have owned they have thought about the gods of 
+the nations 
+
+
+Cicero the augur laughs at auguries, and reproves men for regulating 
+the purposes of life by the cries of crows and jackdaws.23 But it will be 
+said that an academic philosopher, who argues that all things are 
+uncertain, is unworthy to have any authority in these matters. In the 
+second book of his De Natura Deorum,24 he introduces Lucilius Balbus, 
+who, after showing that superstitions have their origin in physical and 
+philosophical truths, expresses his indignation at the setting up of 
+images and fabulous notions, speaking thus: “Do you not therefore see 
+that from true and useful physical discoveries the reason may be drawn 
+away to fabulous and imaginary gods? This gives birth to false opinions 
+and turbulent errors, and superstitions well-nigh old-wifeish. For both 
+the forms of the gods, and their ages, and clothing, and ornaments, are 
+made familiar to us; their genealogies, too, their marriages, kinships, and 
+all things about them, are debased to the likeness of human weakness. 
+They are even introduced as having perturbed minds; for we have 
+accounts of the lusts, cares, and angers of the gods. Nor, indeed, as the 
+fables go, have the gods been without their wars and battles. And that 
+not only when, as in Homer, some gods on either side have defended 
+two opposing armies, but they have even carried on wars on their own 
+account, as with the Titans or with the Giants. Such things it is quite 
+absurd either to say or to believe: they are utterly frivolous and 
+groundless.” Behold, now, what is confessed by those who defend the 
+gods of the nations. Afterwards he goes on to say that some things 
+belong to superstition, but others to religion, which he thinks good to 
+teach according to the Stoics. “For not only the philosophers,” he says, 
+“but also our forefathers, have made a distinction between superstition 
+and religion. For those,” he says, “who spent whole days in prayer, and 
+offered sacrifice, that their children might outlive them, are called 
+
+
+superstitious.”25 Who does not see that he is trying, while he fears the 
+public prejudice, to praise the religion of the ancients, and that he 
+wishes to disjoin it from superstition, but cannot find out how to do so? 
+For if those who prayed and sacrificed all day were called superstitious 
+by the ancients, were those also called so who instituted (what he 
+blames) the images of the gods of diverse age and distinct clothing, and 
+invented the genealogies of gods, their marriages, and kinships? When, 
+therefore, these things are found fault with as superstitious, he 
+implicates in that fault the ancients who instituted and worshipped such 
+images. Nay, he implicates himself, who, with whatever eloquence he 
+may strive to extricate himself and be free, was yet under the necessity 
+of venerating these images; nor dared he so much as whisper in a 
+discourse to the people what in this disputation he plainly sounds forth. 
+Let us Christians, therefore, give thanks to the Lord our God—not to 
+heaven and earth, as that author argues, but to Him who has made 
+heaven and earth; because these superstitions, which that Balbus, like a 
+babbler,2© scarcely reprehends, He, by the most deep lowliness of Christ, 
+by the preaching of the apostles, by the faith of the martyrs dying for the 
+truth and living with the truth, has overthrown, not only in the hearts of 
+the religious, but even in the temples of the superstitious, by their own 
+free service. 
+
+
+31. Concerning the opinions of Varro, who, while reprobating the popular belief, thought that their 
+
+
+worship should be confined to one god, though he was unable to discover the true God 
+
+
+What says Varro himself, whom we grieve to have found, although not 
+by his own judgment, placing the scenic plays among things divine? 
+When in many passages he is exhorting, like a religious man, to the 
+worship of the gods, does he not in doing so admit that he does not in 
+his own judgment believe those things which he relates that the Roman 
+state has instituted; so that he does not hesitate to affirm that if he were 
+founding a new state, he could enumerate the gods and their names 
+better by the rule of nature? But being born into a nation already 
+ancient, he says that he finds himself bound to accept the traditional 
+names and surnames of the gods, and the histories connected with them, 
+and that his purpose in investigating and publishing these details is to 
+incline the people to worship the gods, and not to despise them. By 
+which words this most acute man sufficiently indicates that he does not 
+
+
+publish all things, because they would not only have been contemptible 
+to himself, but would have seemed despicable even to the rabble, unless 
+they had been passed over in silence. I should be thought to conjecture 
+these things, unless he himself, in another passage, had openly said, in 
+speaking of religious rites, that many things are true which it is not only 
+not useful for the common people to know, but that it is expedient that 
+the people should think otherwise, even though falsely, and therefore 
+the Greeks have shut up the religious ceremonies and mysteries in 
+silence, and within walls. In this he no doubt expresses the policy of the 
+so-called wise men by whom states and peoples are ruled. Yet by this 
+crafty device the malign demons are wonderfully delighted, who possess 
+alike the deceivers and the deceived, and from whose tyranny nothing 
+sets free save the grace of God through Jesus Christ our Lord. 
+
+The same most acute and learned author also says, that those alone 
+seem to him to have perceived what God is, who have believed Him to 
+be the soul of the world, governing it by design and reason.27 And by 
+this, it appears, that although he did not attain to the truth—for the true 
+God is not a soul, but the maker and author of the soul—yet if he could 
+have been free to go against the prejudices of custom, he could have 
+confessed and counselled others that the one God ought to be 
+worshipped, who governs the world by design and reason; so that on this 
+subject only this point would remain to be debated with him, that he 
+had called Him a soul, and not rather the creator of the soul. He says, 
+also, that the ancient Romans, for more than a hundred and seventy 
+years, worshipped the gods without an image.28 “And if this custom,” he 
+says, “could have remained till now, the gods would have been more 
+purely worshipped.” In favour of this opinion, he cites as a witness 
+among others the Jewish nation; nor does he hesitate to conclude that 
+passage by saying of those who first consecrated images for the people, 
+that they have both taken away religious fear from their fellow-citizens, 
+and increased error, wisely thinking that the gods easily fall into 
+contempt when exhibited under the stolidity of images. But as he does 
+not say they have transmitted error, but that they have increased it, he 
+therefore wishes it to be understood that there was error already when 
+there were no images. Wherefore, when he says they alone have 
+perceived what God is who have believed Him to be the governing soul 
+of the world, and thinks that the rites of religion would have been more 
+
+
+purely observed without images, who fails to see how near he has come 
+to the truth? For if he had been able to do anything against so inveterate 
+an error, he would certainly have given it as his opinion both that the 
+one God should be worshipped, and that He should be worshipped 
+without an image; and having so nearly discovered the truth, perhaps he 
+might easily have been put in mind of the mutability of the soul, and 
+might thus have perceived that the true God is that immutable nature 
+which made the soul itself. Since these things are so, whatever ridicule 
+such men have poured in their writings against the plurality of the gods, 
+they have done so rather as compelled by the secret will of God to 
+confess them, than as trying to persuade others. If, therefore, any 
+testimonies are adduced by us from these writings, they are adduced for 
+the confutation of those who are unwilling to consider from how great 
+and malignant a power of the demons the singular sacrifice of the 
+shedding of the most holy blood, and the gift of the imparted Spirit, can 
+set us free. 
+
+
+32. In what interest the princes of the nations wished false religions to continue among the 
+
+
+people subject to them 
+
+
+Varro says also, concerning the generations of the gods, that the 
+people have inclined to the poets rather than to the natural philosophers; 
+and that therefore their forefathers—that is, the ancient Romans— 
+believed both in the sex and the generations of the gods, and settled 
+their marriages; which certainly seems to have been done for no other 
+cause except that it was the business of such men as were prudent and 
+wise to deceive the people in matters of religion, and in that very thing 
+not only to worship, but also to imitate the demons, whose greatest lust 
+is to deceive. For just as the demons cannot possess any but those whom 
+they have deceived with guile, so also men in princely office, not indeed 
+being just, but like demons, have persuaded the people in the name of 
+religion to receive as true those things which they themselves knew to 
+be false; in this way, as it were, binding them up more firmly in civil 
+society, so that they might in like manner possess them as subjects. But 
+who that was weak and unlearned could escape the deceits of both the 
+princes of the state and the demons? 
+
+
+33. That the times of all kings and kingdoms are ordained by the judgment and power of the true 
+God 
+
+
+Therefore that God, the author and giver of felicity, because He alone 
+is the true God, Himself gives earthly kingdoms both to good and bad. 
+Neither does He do this rashly, and, as it were, fortuitously—because He 
+is God, not fortune—but according to the order of things and times, 
+which is hidden from us, but thoroughly known to Himself; which same 
+order of times, however, He does not serve as subject to it, but Himself 
+rules as lord and appoints as governor. Felicity He gives only to the 
+good. Whether a man be a subject or a king makes no difference: he may 
+equally either possess or not possess it. And it shall be full in that life 
+where kings and subjects exist no longer. And therefore earthly 
+kingdoms are given by Him both to the good and the bad; lest His 
+worshippers, still under the conduct of a very weak mind, should covet 
+these gifts from Him as some great things. And this is the mystery of the 
+Old Testament, in which the New was hidden, that there even earthly 
+gifts are promised: those who were spiritual understanding even then, 
+although not yet openly declaring, both the eternity which was 
+symbolized by these earthly things, and in what gifts of God true felicity 
+could be found. 
+
+
+34. Concerning the kingdom of the Jews, which was founded by the one and true God, and 
+
+
+preserved by Him as long as they remained in the true religion 
+
+
+Therefore, that it might be known that these earthly good things, after 
+which those pant who cannot imagine better things, remain in the power 
+of the one God Himself, not of the many false gods whom the Romans 
+have formerly believed worthy of worship, He multiplied His people in 
+Egypt from being very few, and delivered them out of it by wonderful 
+signs. Nor did their women invoke Lucina when their offspring was 
+being incredibly multiplied; and that nation having increased incredibly, 
+He Himself delivered, He Himself saved them from the hands of the 
+Egyptians, who persecuted them, and wished to kill all their infants. 
+Without the goddess Rumina they sucked; without Cunina they were 
+cradled; without Educa and Potina they took food and drink; without all 
+those puerile gods they were educated; without the nuptial gods they 
+were married; without the worship of Priapus they had conjugal 
+intercourse; without invocation of Neptune the divided sea opened up a 
+way for them to pass over, and overwhelmed with its returning waves 
+their enemies who pursued them. Neither did they consecrate any 
+
+
+goddess Mannia when they received manna from heaven; nor, when the 
+smitten rock poured forth water to them when they thirsted, did they 
+worship Nymphs and Lymphs. Without the mad rites of Mars and 
+Bellona they carried on war; and while, indeed, they did not conquer 
+without victory, yet they did not hold it to be a goddess, but the gift of 
+their God. Without Segetia they had harvests; without Bubona, oxen; 
+honey without Mellona; apples without Pomona: and, in a word, 
+everything for which the Romans thought they must supplicate so great 
+a crowd of false gods, they received much more happily from the one 
+true God. And if they had not sinned against Him with impious curiosity, 
+which seduced them like magic arts, and drew them to strange gods and 
+idols, and at last led them to kill Christ, their kingdom would have 
+remained to them, and would have been, if not more spacious, yet more 
+happy, than that of Rome. And now that they are dispersed through 
+almost all lands and nations, it is through the providence of that one 
+true God; that whereas the images, altars, groves, and temples of the 
+false gods are everywhere overthrown, and their sacrifices prohibited, it 
+may be shown from their books how this has been foretold by their 
+prophets so long before; lest, perhaps, when they should be read in ours, 
+they might seem to be invented by us. But now, reserving what is to 
+follow for the following book, we must here set a bound to the prolixity 
+of this one. 
+
+
+1 In Augustine’s letter to Evodius (169), which was written towards the end of the year 415, he 
+mentions that this fourth book and the following one were begun and finished during that same 
+
+
+year. 
+2 Comp. Bacon’s Essay on the Vicissitudes of Things. 
+
+3 Matt. v. 45. 
+
+4 Pet. ii. 19. 
+
+° Nonius Marcell. borrows this anecdote from Cicero, De Repub. iii. 
+6 It was extinguished by Crassus in its third year. 
+
+
+7 Cloacina, supposed by Lactantius (De falsa relig. i. 20), Cyprian (De Idol. vanit.), and Augustine 
+(infra, c. 23) to be the goddess of the “cloaca,” or sewage of Rome. Others, however, suppose it 
+to be equivalent to Cluacina, a title given to Venus, because the Romans after the end of the 
+
+
+Sabine war purified themselves (cluere) in the vicinity of her statue. 
+
+
+8 Forculum foribus, Cardeam cardini, Limentinum limini. 
+
+
+9 Virgil, Eclog. iii. 60. 
+
+10 Virgil, Æneid, i. 47. 
+
+11 Cicero, De Nat. Deor. ii. 25. 
+
+12 Virgil, Georg. ii. 325, 326. 
+
+13 Eusebius, De Prap. Evang. i. 10. 
+
+14 Virgil, Georg. iv. 221, 222. 
+
+15The feminine Fortune. 
+
+16 Hab. ii. 4. 
+
+17 So called from the consent or harmony of the celestial movements of these gods. 
+18Tusc. Quest. i. 26. 
+
+19 Livy, ii. 36; Cicero, De Divin. 26. 
+
+20 Called by Cicero (De Oratore, i. 39) the most eloquent of lawyers, and the best skilled lawyer 
+among eloquent men. 
+
+21 Superflua non nocent. 
+
+22 Rom. i. 25. 
+
+23De Divin. ii. 37. 
+
+24 Cic. De Nat. Deorum, lib. ii. c. 28. 
+
+25 Superstition, from superstes. Against this etymology of Cicero, see Lact. Inst. Div. iv. 28. 
+26 Balbus, from balbutiens, stammering, babbling. 
+
+27 See Cicero, De Nat. Devr. i. 2. 
+
+
+28 Plutarch’s Numa, c. 8. 
+
+
+BOOK FIFTH: 
+
+
+ARGUMENT 
+
+
+AUGUSTINE FIRST DISCUSSES THE DOCTRINE OF FATE, FOR THE SAKE OF CONFUTING THOSE WHO ARE 
+DISPOSED TO REFER TO FATE THE POWER AND INCREASE OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE, WHICH COULD NOT BE 
+ATTRIBUTED TO FALSE GODS, AS HAS BEEN SHOWN IN THE PRECEDING BOOK. AFTER THAT, HE PROVES 
+THAT THERE IS NO CONTRADICTION BETWEEN GOD’S PRESCIENCE AND OUR FREE WILL. HE THEN SPEAKS 
+OF THE MANNERS OF THE ANCIENT ROMANS, AND SHOWS IN WHAT SENSE IT WAS DUE TO THE VIRTUE 
+OF THE ROMANS THEMSELVES, AND IN HOW FAR TO THE COUNSEL OF GOD, THAT HE INCREASED THEIR 
+DOMINION, THOUGH THEY DID NOT WORSHIP HIM. FINALLY, HE EXPLAINS WHAT IS TO BE ACCOUNTED 
+
+
+THE TRUE HAPPINESS OF THE CHRISTIAN EMPERORS. 
+
+
+PREFACE 
+
+
+ince, then, it is established that the complete attainment of all we 
+
+desire is that which constitutes felicity, which is no goddess, but a 
+gift of God, and that therefore men can worship no god save Him who is 
+able to make them happy—and were Felicity herself a goddess, she 
+would with reason be the only object of worship—since, I say, this is 
+established, let us now go on to consider why God, who is able to give 
+with all other things those good gifts which can be possessed by men 
+who are not good, and consequently not happy, has seen fit to grant 
+such extended and long-continued dominion to the Roman empire; for 
+that this was not effected by that multitude of false gods which they 
+worshipped, we have both already adduced, and shall, as occasion offers, 
+yet adduce considerable proof. 
+
+
+1. That the cause of the Roman empire, and of all kingdoms, is neither fortuitous nor consists in 
+
+
+the position of the stars? 
+
+
+The cause, then, of the greatness of the Roman empire is neither 
+fortuitous nor fatal, according to the judgment or opinion of those who 
+call those things fortuitous which either have no causes, or such causes as 
+do not proceed from some intelligible order, and those things fatal which 
+
+
+happen independently of the will of God and man, by the necessity of a 
+certain order. In a word, human kingdoms are established by divine 
+providence. And if any one attributes their existence to fate, because he 
+calls the will or the power of God itself by the name of fate, let him keep 
+his opinion, but correct his language. For why does he not say at first 
+what he will say afterwards, when some one shall put the question to 
+him, What he means by fate? For when men hear that word, according to 
+the ordinary use of the language, they simply understand by it the virtue 
+of that particular position of the stars which may exist at the time when 
+any one is born or conceived, which some separate altogether from the 
+will of God, whilst others affirm that this also is dependent on that will. 
+But those who are of opinion that, apart from the will of God, the stars 
+determine what we shall do, or what good things we shall possess, or 
+what evils we shall suffer, must be refused a hearing by all, not only by 
+those who hold the true religion, but by those who wish to be the 
+worshippers of any gods whatsoever, even false gods. For what does this 
+opinion really amount to but this, that no god whatever is to be 
+worshipped or prayed to? Against these, however, our present 
+disputation is not intended to be directed, but against those who, in 
+defence of those whom they think to be gods, oppose the Christian 
+religion. They, however, who make the position of the stars depend on 
+the divine will, and in a manner decree what character each man shall 
+have, and what good or evil shall happen to him, if they think that these 
+same stars have that power conferred upon them by the supreme power 
+of God, in order that they may determine these things according to their 
+will, do a great injury to the celestial sphere, in whose most brilliant 
+senate, and most splendid senate-house, as it were, they suppose that 
+wicked deeds are decreed to be done—such deeds as that if any 
+terrestrial state should decree them, it would be condemned to 
+overthrow by the decree of the whole human race. What judgment, then, 
+is left to God concerning the deeds of men, who is Lord both of the stars 
+and of men, when to these deeds a celestial necessity is attributed? Or, if 
+they do not say that the stars, though they have indeed received a 
+certain power from God, who is supreme, determine those things 
+according to their own discretion, but simply that His commands are 
+fulfilled by them instrumentally in the application and enforcing of such 
+necessities, are we thus to think concerning God even what it seemed 
+
+
+unworthy that we should think concerning the will of the stars? But, if 
+the stars are said rather to signify these things than to effect them, so 
+that that position of the stars is, as it were, a kind of speech predicting, 
+not causing future things—for this has been the opinion of men of no 
+ordinary learning—certainly the mathematicians are not wont so to 
+speak, saying, for example, Mars in such or such a position signifies a 
+homicide, but makes a homicide. But, nevertheless, though we grant that 
+they do not speak as they ought, and that we ought to accept as the 
+proper form of speech that employed by the philosophers in predicting 
+those things which they think they discover in the position of the stars, 
+how comes it that they have never been able to assign any cause why, in 
+the life of twins, in their actions, in the events which befall them, in 
+their professions, arts, honours, and other things pertaining to human 
+life, also in their very death, there is often so great a difference, that, as 
+far as these things are concerned, many entire strangers are more like 
+them than they are like each other, though separated at birth by the 
+smallest interval of time, but at conception generated by the same act of 
+copulation, and at the same moment? 
+
+
+2. On the difference in the health of twins 
+
+
+Cicero says that the famous physician Hippocrates has left in writing 
+that he had suspected that a certain pair of brothers were twins, from 
+the fact that they both took ill at once, and their disease advanced to its 
+crisis and subsided in the same time in each of them.? Posidonius the 
+Stoic, who was much given to astrology, used to explain the fact by 
+supposing that they had been born and conceived under the same 
+constellation. In this question the conjecture of the physician is by far 
+more worthy to be accepted, and approaches much nearer to credibility, 
+since, according as the parents were affected in body at the time of 
+copulation, so might the first elements of the foetuses have been affected, 
+so that all that was necessary for their growth and development up till 
+birth having been supplied from the body of the same mother, they 
+might be born with like constitutions. Thereafter, nourished in the same 
+house, on the same kinds of food, where they would have also the same 
+kinds of air, the same locality, the same quality of water—which, 
+according to the testimony of medical science, have a very great 
+influence, good or bad, on the condition of bodily health—and where 
+
+
+they would also be accustomed to the same kinds of exercise, they would 
+have bodily constitutions so similar that they would be similarly affected 
+with sickness at the same time and by the same causes. But, to wish to 
+adduce that particular position of the stars which existed at the time 
+when they were born or conceived as the cause of their being 
+simultaneously affected with sickness, manifests the greatest arrogance, 
+when so many beings of most diverse kinds, in the most diverse 
+conditions, and subject to the most diverse events, may have been 
+conceived and born at the same time, and in the same district, lying 
+under the same sky. But we know that twins do not only act differently, 
+and travel to very different places, but that they also suffer from 
+different kinds of sickness; for which Hippocrates would give what is in 
+my opinion the simplest reason, namely, that, through diversity of food 
+and exercise, which arises not from the constitution of the body, but 
+from the inclination of the mind, they may have come to be different 
+from each other in respect of health. Moreover, Posidonius, or any other 
+asserter of the fatal influence of the stars, will have enough to do to find 
+anything to say to this, if he be unwilling to impose upon the minds of 
+the uninstructed in things of which they are ignorant. But, as to what 
+they attempt to make out from that very small interval of time elapsing 
+between the births of twins, on account of that point in the heavens 
+where the mark of the natal hour is placed, and which they call the 
+“horoscope,” it is either disproportionately small to the diversity which 
+is found in the dispositions, actions, habits, and fortunes of twins, or it is 
+disproportionately great when compared with the estate of twins, 
+whether low or high, which is the same for both of them, the cause for 
+whose greatest difference they place, in every case, in the hour on which 
+one is born; and, for this reason, if the one is born so immediately after 
+the other that there is no change in the horoscope, I demand an entire 
+similarity in all that respects them both, which can never be found in the 
+case of any twins. But if the slowness of the birth of the second give time 
+for a change in the horoscope, I demand different parents, which twins 
+can never have. 
+
+
+3. Concerning the arguments which Nigidius the mathematician drew from the potter’s wheel, in 
+the question about the birth of twins 
+
+
+It is to no purpose, therefore, that that famous fiction about the 
+
+
+potter’s wheel is brought forward, which tells of the answer which 
+Nigidius is said to have given when he was perplexed with this question, 
+and on account of which he was called Figulus.4 For, having whirled 
+round the potter’s wheel with all his strength, he marked it with ink, 
+striking it twice with the utmost rapidity, so that the strokes seemed to 
+fall on the very same part of it. Then, when the rotation had ceased, the 
+marks which he had made were found upon the rim of the wheel at no 
+small distance apart. Thus, said he, considering the great rapidity with 
+which the celestial sphere revolves, even though twins were born with as 
+short an interval between their births as there was between the strokes 
+which I gave this wheel, that brief interval of time is equivalent to a very 
+great distance in the celestial sphere. Hence, said he, come whatever 
+dissimilitudes may be remarked in the habits and fortunes of twins. This 
+argument is more fragile than the vessels which are fashioned by the 
+rotation of that wheel. For if there is so much significance in the heavens 
+which cannot be comprehended by observation of the constellations, 
+that, in the case of twins, an inheritance may fall to the one and not to 
+the other, why, in the case of others who are not twins, do they dare, 
+having examined their constellations, to declare such things as pertain to 
+that secret which no one can comprehend, and to attribute them to the 
+precise moment of the birth of each individual? Now, if such predictions 
+in connection with the natal hours of others who are not twins are to be 
+vindicated on the ground that they are founded on the observation of 
+more extended spaces in the heavens, whilst those very small moments 
+of time which separated the births of twins, and correspond to minute 
+portions of celestial space, are to be connected with trifling things about 
+which the mathematicians are not wont to be consulted—for who would 
+consult them as to when he is to sit, when to walk abroad, when and on 
+what he is to dine?—how can we be justified in so speaking, when we 
+can point out such manifold diversity both in the habits, doings, and 
+destinies of twins? 
+
+
+4. Concerning the twins Esau and Jacob, who were very unlike each other both in their character 
+
+
+and actions 
+
+
+In the time of the ancient fathers, to speak concerning illustrious 
+persons, there were born two twin brothers, the one so immediately after 
+the other, that the first took hold of the heel of the second. So great a 
+
+
+difference existed in their lives and manners, so great a dissimilarity in 
+their actions, so great a difference in their parents’ love for them 
+respectively, that the very contrast between them produced even a 
+mutual hostile antipathy. Do we mean, when we say that they were so 
+unlike each other, that when the one was walking the other was sitting, 
+when the one was sleeping the other was waking—which differences are 
+such as are attributed to those minute portions of space which cannot be 
+appreciated by those who note down the position of the stars which 
+exists at the moment of one’s birth, in order that the mathematicians 
+may be consulted concerning it? One of these twins was for a long time a 
+hired servant; the other never served. One of them was beloved by his 
+mother; the other was not so. One of them lost that honour which was so 
+much valued among their people; the other obtained it. And what shall 
+we say of their wives, their children, and their possessions? How 
+different they were in respect to all these! If, therefore, such things as 
+these are connected with those minute intervals of time which elapse 
+between the births of twins, and are not to be attributed to the 
+constellations, wherefore are they predicted in the case of others from 
+the examination of their constellations? And if, on the other hand, these 
+things are said to be predicted, because they are connected, not with 
+minute and inappreciable moments, but with intervals of time which can 
+be observed and noted down, what purpose is that potter’s wheel to 
+serve in this matter, except it be to whirl round men who have hearts of 
+clay, in order that they may be prevented from detecting the emptiness 
+of the talk of the mathematicians? 
+
+
+5. In what manner the mathematicians are convicted of professing a vain science 
+
+
+Do not those very persons whom the medical sagacity of Hippocrates 
+led him to suspect to be twins, because their disease was observed by 
+him to develope to its crisis and to subside again in the same time in 
+each of them—do not these, I say, serve as a sufficient refutation of 
+those who wish to attribute to the influence of the stars that which was 
+owing to a similarity of bodily constitution? For wherefore were they 
+both sick of the same disease, and at the same time, and not the one 
+after the other in the order of their birth? (for certainly they could not 
+both be born at the same time.) Or, if the fact of their having been born 
+at different times by no means necessarily implies that they must be sick 
+
+
+at different times, why do they contend that the difference in the time of 
+their births was the cause of their difference in other things? Why could 
+they travel in foreign parts at different times, marry at different times, 
+beget children at different times, and do many other things at different 
+times, by reason of their having been born at different times, and yet 
+could not, for the same reason, also be sick at different times? For if a 
+difference in the moment of birth changed the horoscope, and 
+occasioned dissimilarity in all other things, why has that 
+simultaneousness which belonged to their conception remained in their 
+attacks of sickness? Or, if the destinies of health are involved in the time 
+of conception, but those of other things be said to be attached to the 
+time of birth, they ought not to predict anything concerning health from 
+examination of the constellations of birth, when the hour of conception 
+is not also given, that its constellations may be inspected. But if they say 
+that they predict attacks of sickness without examining the horoscope of 
+conception, because these are indicated by the moments of birth, how 
+could they inform either of these twins when he would be sick, from the 
+horoscope of his birth, when the other also, who had not the same 
+horoscope of birth, must of necessity fall sick at the same time? Again, I 
+ask, if the distance of time between the births of twins is so great as to 
+occasion a difference of their constellations on account of the difference 
+of their horoscopes, and therefore of all the cardinal points to which so 
+much influence is attributed, that even from such change there comes a 
+difference of destiny, how is it possible that this should be so, since they 
+cannot have been conceived at different times? Or, if two conceived at 
+the same moment of time could have different destinies with respect to 
+their births, why may not also two born at the same moment of time 
+have different destinies for life and for death? For if the one moment in 
+which both were conceived did not hinder that the one should be born 
+before the other, why, if two are born at the same moment, should 
+anything hinder them from dying at the same moment? If a simultaneous 
+conception allows of twins being differently affected in the womb, why 
+should not simultaneousness of birth allow of any two individuals 
+having different fortunes in the world? and thus would all the fictions of 
+this art, or rather delusion, be swept away. What strange circumstance is 
+this, that two children conceived at the same time, nay, at the same 
+moment, under the same position of the stars, have different fates which 
+
+
+bring them to different hours of birth, whilst two children, born of two 
+different mothers, at the same moment of time, under one and the same 
+position of the stars, cannot have different fates which shall conduct 
+them by necessity to diverse manners of life and of death? Are they at 
+conception as yet without destinies, because they can only have them if 
+they be born? What, therefore, do they mean when they say that, if the 
+hour of the conception be found, many things can be predicted by these 
+astrologers? from which also arose that story which is reiterated by 
+some, that a certain sage chose an hour in which to lie with his wife, in 
+order to secure his begetting an illustrious son. From this opinion also 
+came that answer of Posidonius, the great astrologer and also 
+philosopher, concerning those twins who were attacked with sickness at 
+the same time, namely, “That this had happened to them because they 
+were conceived at the same time, and born at the same time.” For 
+certainly he added “conception,” lest it should be said to him that they 
+could not both be born at the same time, knowing that at any rate they 
+must both have been conceived at the same time; wishing thus to show 
+that he did not attribute the fact of their being similarly and 
+simultaneously affected with sickness to the similarity of their bodily 
+constitutions as its proximate cause, but that he held that even in respect 
+of the similarity of their health, they were bound together by a sidereal 
+connection. If, therefore, the time of conception has so much to do with 
+the similarity of destinies, these same destinies ought not to be changed 
+by the circumstances of birth; or, if the destinies of twins be said to be 
+changed because they are born at different times, why should we not 
+rather understand that they had been already changed in order that they 
+might be born at different times? Does not, then, the will of men living 
+in the world change the destinies of birth, when the order of birth can 
+change the destinies they had at conception? 
+
+
+6. Concerning twins of different sexes 
+
+
+But even in the very conception of twins, which certainly occurs at the 
+same moment in the case of both, it often happens that the one is 
+conceived a male, and the other a female. I know two of different sexes 
+who are twins. Both of them are alive, and in the flower of their age; and 
+though they resemble each other in body, as far as difference of sex will 
+permit, still they are very different in the whole scope and purpose of 
+
+
+their lives (consideration being had of those differences which 
+necessarily exist between the lives of males and females)—the one 
+holding the office of a count, and being almost constantly away from 
+home with the army in foreign service, the other never leaving her 
+country’s soil, or her native district. Still more—and this is more 
+incredible, if the destinies of the stars are to be believed in, though it is 
+not wonderful if we consider the wills of men, and the free gifts of God 
+—he is married; she is a sacred virgin: he has begotten a numerous 
+offspring; she has never even married. But is not the virtue of the 
+horoscope very great? I think I have said enough to show the absurdity 
+of that. But, say those astrologers, whatever be the virtue of the 
+horoscope in other respects, it is certainly of significance with respect to 
+birth. But why not also with respect to conception, which takes place 
+undoubtedly with one act of copulation? And, indeed, so great is the 
+force of nature, that after a woman has once conceived, she ceases to be 
+liable to conception. Or were they, perhaps, changed at birth, either he 
+into a male, or she into a female, because of the difference in their 
+horoscopes? But, whilst it is not altogether absurd to say that certain 
+sidereal influences have some power to cause differences in bodies alone 
+—as, for instance, we see that the seasons of the year come round by the 
+approaching and receding of the sun, and that certain kinds of things are 
+increased in size or diminished by the waxings and wanings of the moon, 
+such as sea-urchins, oysters, and the wonderful tides of the ocean—it 
+does not follow that the wills of men are to be made subject to the 
+position of the stars. The astrologers, however, when they wish to bind 
+our actions also to the constellations, only set us on investigating 
+whether, even in these bodies, the changes may not be attributable to 
+some other than a sidereal cause. For what is there which more 
+intimately concerns a body than its sex? And yet, under the same 
+position of the stars, twins of different sexes may be conceived. 
+Wherefore, what greater absurdity can be affirmed or believed than that 
+the position of the stars, which was the same for both of them at the 
+time of conception, could not cause that the one child should not have 
+been of a different sex from her brother, with whom she had a common 
+constellation, whilst the position of the stars which existed at the hour of 
+their birth could cause that she should be separated from him by the 
+great distance between marriage and holy virginity? 
+
+
+7. Concerning the choosing of a day for marriage, or for planting, or sowing 
+
+
+Now, will any one bring forward this, that in choosing certain 
+particular days for particular actions, men bring about certain new 
+destinies for their actions? That man, for instance, according to this 
+doctrine, was not born to have an illustrious son, but rather a 
+contemptible one, and therefore, being a man of learning, he chose an 
+hour in which to lie with his wife. He made, therefore, a destiny which 
+he did not have before, and from that destiny of his own making 
+something began to be fatal which was not contained in the destiny of 
+his natal hour. Oh, singular stupidity! A day is chosen on which to 
+marry; and for this reason, I believe, that unless a day be chosen, the 
+marriage may fall on an unlucky day, and turn out an unhappy one. 
+What then becomes of what the stars have already decreed at the hour of 
+birth? Can a man be said to change by an act of choice that which has 
+already been determined for him, whilst that which he himself has 
+determined in the choosing of a day cannot be changed by another 
+power? Thus, if men alone, and not all things under heaven, are subject 
+to the influence of the stars, why do they choose some days as suitable 
+for planting vines or trees, or for sowing grain, other days as suitable for 
+taming beasts on, or for putting the males to the females, that the cows 
+and mares may be impregnated, and for such-like things? If it be said 
+that certain chosen days have an influence on these things, because the 
+constellations rule over all terrestrial bodies, animate and inanimate, 
+according to differences in moments of time, let it be considered what 
+innumerable multitudes of beings are born or arise, or take their origin 
+at the very same instant of time, which come to ends so different, that 
+they may persuade any little boy that these observations about days are 
+ridiculous. For who is so mad as to dare affirm that all trees, all herbs, 
+all beasts, serpents, birds, fishes, worms, have each separately their own 
+moments of birth or commencement? Nevertheless, men are wont, in 
+order to try the skill of the mathematicians, to bring before them the 
+constellations of dumb animals, the constellations of whose birth they 
+diligently observe at home with a view to this discovery; and they prefer 
+those mathematicians to all others, who say from the inspection of the 
+constellations that they indicate the birth of a beast and not of a man. 
+They also dare tell what kind of beast it is, whether it is a woolbearing 
+
+
+beast, or a beast suited for carrying burthens, or one fit for the plough, 
+or for watching a house; for the astrologers are also tried with respect to 
+the fates of dogs, and their answers concerning these are followed by 
+shouts of admiration on the part of those who consult them. They so 
+deceive men as to make them think that during the birth of a man the 
+births of all other beings are suspended, so that not even a fly comes to 
+life at the same time that he is being born, under the same region of the 
+heavens. And if this be admitted with respect to the fly, the reasoning 
+cannot stop there, but must ascend from flies till it lead them up to 
+camels and elephants. Nor are they willing to attend to this, that when a 
+day has been chosen whereon to sow a field, so many grains fall into the 
+ground simultaneously, germinate simultaneously, spring up, come to 
+perfection, and ripen simultaneously; and yet, of all the ears which are 
+coeval, and, so to speak, congerminal, some are destroyed by mildew, 
+some are devoured by the birds, and some are pulled by men. How can 
+they say that all these had their different constellations, which they see 
+coming to so different ends? Will they confess that it is folly to choose 
+days for such things, and to affirm that they do not come within the 
+sphere of the celestial decree, whilst they subject men’ alone to the stars, 
+on whom alone in the world God has bestowed free wills? All these 
+things being considered, we have good reason to believe that, when the 
+astrologers give very many wonderful answers, it is to be attributed to 
+the occult inspiration of spirits not of the best kind, whose care it is to 
+insinuate into the minds of men, and to confirm in them, those false and 
+noxious opinions concerning the fatal influence of the stars, and not to 
+their marking and inspecting of horoscopes, according to some kind of 
+art which in reality has no existence. 
+
+
+8. Concerning those who call by the name of fate, not the position of the stars, but the 
+
+
+connection of causes which dcpends on the will of God 
+
+
+But, as to those who call by the name of fate, not the disposition of the 
+stars as it may exist when any creature is conceived, or born, or 
+commences its existence, but the whole connection and train of causes 
+which makes everything become what it does become, there is no need 
+that I should labour and strive with them in a merely verbal controversy, 
+since they attribute the so-called order and connection of causes to the 
+will and power of God most high, who is most rightly and most truly 
+
+
+believed to know all things before they come to pass, and to leave 
+nothing unordained; from whom are all powers, although the wills of all 
+are not from Him. Now, that it is chiefly the will of God most high, 
+whose power extends itself irresistibly through all things which they call 
+fate, is proved by the following verses, of which, if I mistake not, 
+Anneus Seneca is the author:— 
+
+
+“Father supreme, Thou ruler of the lofty heavens, 
+
+Lead me where’er it is Thy pleasure; I will give 
+
+A prompt obedience, making no delay, 
+
+Lo! here I am. Promptly I come to do Thy sovereign will; 
+If Thy command shall thwart my inclination, I will still 
+Follow Thee groaning, and the work assigned, 
+
+With all the suffering of a mind repugnant, 
+
+Will perform, being evil; which, had I been good, 
+
+I should have undertaken and performed, though hard, 
+With virtuous cheerfulness. 
+
+The Fates do lead the man that follows willing; 
+
+But the man that is unwilling, him they drag.”> 
+
+
+Most evidently, in this last verse, he calls that “fate” which he had 
+before called “the will of the Father supreme,” whom, he says, is ready 
+to obey that he may be led, being willing, not dragged, being unwilling, 
+since “the Fates do lead the man that follows willing, but the man that is 
+unwilling, him they drag.” 
+
+The following Homeric lines, which Cicero translates into Latin, also 
+favour this opinion:— 
+
+
+“Such are the minds of men, as is the light 
+Which Father Jove himself doth pour 
+
+
+Illustrious o’er the fruitful earth.”© 
+
+
+Not that Cicero wishes that a poetical sentiment should have any weight 
+in a question like this; for when he says that the Stoics, when asserting 
+the power of fate, were in the habit of using these verses from Homer, he 
+is not treating concerning the opinion of that poet, but concerning that 
+of those philosophers, since by these verses, which they quote in 
+
+
+connection with the controversy which they hold about fate, is most 
+distinctly manifested what it is which they reckon fate, since they call by 
+the name of Jupiter him whom they reckon the supreme god, from 
+whom, they say, hangs the whole chain of fates. 
+
+
+9. Concerning the foreknowledge of God and the free will of man, in opposition to the definition 
+
+
+of Cicero 
+
+
+The manner in which Cicero addresses himself to the task of refuting 
+the Stoics, shows that he did not think he could effect anything against 
+them in argument unless he had first demolished divination.” And this 
+he attempts to accomplish by denying that there is any knowledge of 
+future things, and maintains with all his might that there is no such 
+knowledge either in God or man, and that there is no prediction of 
+events. Thus he both denies the foreknowledge of God, and attempts by 
+vain arguments, and by opposing to himself certain oracles very easy to 
+be refuted, to overthrow all prophecy, even such as is clearer than the 
+light (though even these oracles are not refuted by him). 
+
+But, in refuting these conjectures of the mathematicians, his argument 
+is triumphant, because truly these are such as destroy and refute 
+themselves. Nevertheless, they are far more tolerable who assert the fatal 
+influence of the stars than they who deny the foreknowledge of future 
+events. For, to confess that God exists, and at the same time to deny that 
+He has foreknowledge of future things, is the most manifest folly. This 
+Cicero himself saw, and therefore attempted to assert the doctrine 
+embodied in the words of Scripture, “The fool hath said in his heart, 
+There is no God.”8 That, however, he did not do in his own person, for 
+he saw how odious and offensive such an opinion would be; and, 
+therefore in his book on the nature of the gods,? he makes Cotta dispute 
+concerning this against the Stoics, and preferred to give his own opinion 
+in favour of Lucilius Balbus, to whom he assigned the defence of the 
+Stoical position, rather than in favour of Cotta, who maintained that no 
+divinity exists. However, in his book on divination, he in his own person 
+most openly opposes the doctrine of the prescience of future things. But 
+all this he seems to do in order that he may not grant the doctrine of 
+fate, and by so doing destroy free will. For he thinks that, the knowledge 
+of future things being once conceded, fate follows as so necessary a 
+consequence that it cannot be denied. 
+
+
+But, let these perplexing debatings and disputations of the 
+philosophers go on as they may, we, in order that we may confess the 
+most high and true God Himself, do confess His will, supreme power, 
+and prescience. Neither let us be afraid lest, after all, we do not do by 
+will that which we do by will, because He, whose foreknowledge is 
+infallible, foreknew that we would do it. It was this which Cicero was 
+afraid of, and therefore opposed foreknowledge. The Stoics also 
+maintained that all things do not come to pass by necessity, although 
+they contended that all things happen according to destiny. What is it, 
+then, that Cicero feared in the prescience of future things? Doubtless it 
+was this—that if all future things have been foreknown, they will 
+happen in the order in which they have been foreknown; and if they 
+come to pass in this order, there is a certain order of things foreknown 
+by God; and if a certain order of things, then a certain order of causes, 
+for nothing can happen which is not preceded by some efficient cause. 
+But if there is a certain order of causes according to which everything 
+happens which does happen, then by fate, says he, all things happen 
+which do happen. But if this be so, then is there nothing in our own 
+power, and there is no such thing as freedom of will; and if we grant 
+that, says he, the whole economy of human life is subverted. In vain are 
+laws enacted. In vain are reproaches, praises, chidings, exhortations had 
+recourse to; and there is no justice whatever in the appointment of 
+rewards for the good, and punishments for the wicked. And that 
+consequences so disgraceful, and absurd, and pernicious to humanity 
+may not follow, Cicero chooses to reject the foreknowledge of future 
+things, and shuts up the religious mind to this alternative, to make 
+choice between two things, either that something is in our own power, 
+or that there is foreknowledge—both of which cannot be true; but if the 
+one is affirmed, the other is thereby denied. He therefore, like a truly 
+great and wise man, and one who consulted very much and very skilfully 
+for the good of humanity, of those two chose the freedom of the will, to 
+confirm which he denied the foreknowledge of future things; and thus, 
+wishing to make men free, he makes them sacrilegious. But the religious 
+mind chooses both, confesses both, and maintains both by the faith of 
+piety. But how so? says Cicero; for the knowledge of future things being 
+granted, there follows a chain of consequences which ends in this, that 
+there can be nothing depending on our own free wills. And further, if 
+
+
+there is anything depending on our wills, we must go backwards by the 
+same steps of reasoning till we arrive at the conclusion that there is no 
+foreknowledge of future things. For we go backwards through all the 
+steps in the following order:—If there is free will, all things do not 
+happen according to fate; if all things do not happen according to fate, 
+there is not a certain order of causes; and if there is not a certain order 
+of causes, neither is there a certain order of things foreknown by God— 
+for things cannot come to pass except they are preceded by efficient 
+causes—but, if there is no fixed and certain order of causes foreknown 
+by God, all things cannot be said to happen according as He foreknew 
+that they would happen. And further, if it is not true that all things 
+happen just as they have been foreknown by Him, there is not, says he, 
+in God any foreknowledge of future events. 
+
+Now, against the sacrilegious and impious darings of reason, we assert 
+both that God knows all things before they come to pass, and that we do 
+by our free will whatsoever we know and feel to be done by us only 
+because we will it. But that all things come to pass by fate, we do not 
+say; nay we affirm that nothing comes to pass by fate; for we 
+demonstrate that the name of fate, as it is wont to be used by those who 
+speak of fate, meaning thereby the position of the stars at the time of 
+each one’s conception or birth, is an unmeaning word, for astrology itself 
+is a delusion. But an order of causes in which the highest efficiency is 
+attributed to the will of God, we neither deny nor do we designate it by 
+the name of fate, unless, perhaps, we may understand fate to mean that 
+which is spoken, deriving it from fari, to speak; for we cannot deny that 
+it is written in the sacred Scriptures, “God hath spoken once; these two 
+things have I heard, that power belongeth unto God. Also unto Thee, O 
+God, belongeth mercy: for Thou wilt render unto every man according to 
+his works.”!9 Now the expression, “Once hath He spoken,” is to be 
+understood as meaning “immovably,” that is, unchangeably hath He 
+spoken, inasmuch as He knows unchangeably all things which shall be, 
+and all things which He will do. We might, then, use the word fate in the 
+sense it bears when derived from fari, to speak, had it not already come 
+to be understood in another sense, into which I am unwilling that the 
+hearts of men should unconsciously slide. But it does not follow that, 
+though there is for God a certain order of all causes, there must therefore 
+be nothing depending on the free exercise of our own wills, for our wills 
+
+
+themselves are included in that order of causes which is certain to God, 
+and is embraced by His foreknowledge, for human wills are also causes 
+of human actions; and He who foreknew all the causes of things would 
+certainly among those causes not have been ignorant of our wills. For 
+even that very concession which Cicero himself makes is enough to 
+refute him in this argument. For what does it help him to say that 
+nothing takes place without a cause, but that every cause is not fatal, 
+there being a fortuitous cause, a natural cause, and a voluntary cause? It 
+is sufficient that he confesses that whatever happens must be preceded 
+by a cause. For we say that those causes which are called fortuitous are 
+not a mere name for the absence of causes, but are only latent, and we 
+attribute them either to the will of the true God, or to that of spirits of 
+some kind or other. And as to natural causes, we by no means separate 
+them from the will of Him who is the author and framer of all nature. 
+But now as to voluntary causes. They are referable either to God, or to 
+angels, or to men, or to animals of whatever description, if indeed those 
+instinctive movements of animals devoid of reason, by which, in 
+accordance with their own nature, they seek or shun various things, are 
+to be called wills. And when I speak of the wills of angels, I mean either 
+the wills of good angels, whom we call the angels of God, or of the 
+wicked angels, whom we call the angels of the devil, or demons. Also by 
+the wills of men I mean the wills either of the good or of the wicked. 
+And from this we conclude that there are no efficient causes of all things 
+which come to pass unless voluntary causes, that is, such as belong to 
+that nature, which is the spirit of life. For the air or wind is called spirit, 
+but, inasmuch as it is a body, it is not the spirit of life. The spirit of life, 
+therefore, which quickens all things, and is the creator of every body, 
+and of every created spirit, is God Himself, the uncreated spirit. In His 
+supreme will resides the power which acts on the wills of all created 
+spirits, helping the good, judging the evil, controlling all, granting power 
+to some, not granting it to others. For, as He is the creator of all natures, 
+so also is He the bestower of all powers, not of all wills; for wicked wills 
+are not from Him, being contrary to nature, which is from Him. As to 
+bodies, they are more subject to wills; some to our wills, by which I 
+mean the wills of all living mortal creatures, but more to the wills of 
+men than of beasts. But all of them are most of all subject to the will of 
+God, to whom all wills also are subject, since they have no power except 
+
+
+what He has bestowed upon them. The cause of things, therefore, which 
+makes but is not made, is God; but all other causes both make and are 
+made. Such are all created spirits, and especially the rational. Material 
+causes, therefore, which may rather be said to be made than to make, 
+are not to be reckoned among efficient causes, because they can only do 
+what the wills of spirits do by them. How, then, does an order of causes 
+which is certain to the foreknowledge of God necessitate that there 
+should be nothing which is dependent on our wills, when our wills 
+themselves have a very important place in the order of causes? Cicero, 
+then, contends with those who call this order of causes fatal, or rather 
+designate this order itself by the name of fate; to which we have an 
+abhorrence, especially on account of the word, which men have become 
+accustomed to understand as meaning what is not true. But, whereas he 
+denies that the order of all causes is most certain, and perfectly clear to 
+the prescience of God, we detest his opinion more than the Stoics do. For 
+he either denies that God exists—which, indeed, in an assumed 
+personage, he has laboured to do, in his book De Natura Deorum—or if 
+he confesses that He exists, but denies that He is prescient of future 
+things, what is that but just “the fool saying in his heart there is no 
+God?” For one who is not prescient of all future things is not God. 
+Wherefore our wills also have just so much power as God willed and 
+foreknew that they should have; and therefore whatever power they 
+have, they have it within most certain limits; and whatever they are to 
+do, they are most assuredly to do, for He whose foreknowledge is 
+infallible foreknew that they would have the power to do it, and would 
+do it. Wherefore, if I should choose to apply the name of fate to anything 
+at all, I should rather say that fate belongs to the weaker of two parties, 
+will to the stronger, who has the other in his power, than that the 
+freedom of our will is excluded by that order of causes, which, by an 
+unusual application of the word peculiar to themselves, the Stoics call 
+Fate. 
+
+
+10. Whether our wills are ruled by necessity 
+
+
+Wherefore, neither is that necessity to be feared, for dread of which 
+the Stoics laboured to make such distinctions among the causes of things 
+as should enable them to rescue certain things from the dominion of 
+necessity, and to subject others to it. Among those things which they 
+
+
+wished not to be subject to necessity they placed our wills, knowing that 
+they would not be free if subjected to necessity. For if that is to be called 
+our necessity which is not in our power, but even though we be unwilling 
+effects what it can effect—as, for instance, the necessity of death—it is 
+manifest that our wills by which we live uprightly or wickedly are not 
+under such a necessity; for we do many things which, if we were not 
+willing, we should certainly not do. This is primarily true of the act of 
+willing itself—for if we will, it is; if we will not, it is not—for we should 
+not will if we were unwilling. But if we define necessity to be that 
+according to which we say that it is necessary that anything be of such 
+or such a nature, or be done in such and such a manner, I know not why 
+we should have any dread of that necessity taking away the freedom of 
+our will. For we do not put the life of God or the foreknowledge of God 
+under necessity if we should say that it is necessary that God should live 
+for ever, and foreknow all things; as neither is His power diminished 
+when we say that He cannot die or fall into error—for this is in such a 
+way impossible to Him, that if it were possible for Him, He would be of 
+less power. But assuredly He is rightly called omnipotent, though He can 
+neither die nor fall into error. For He is called omnipotent on account of 
+His doing what He wills, not on account of His suffering what He wills 
+not; for if that should befall Him, He would by no means be omnipotent. 
+Wherefore, He cannot do some things for the very reason that He is 
+omnipotent. So also, when we say that it is necessary that, when we will, 
+we will by free choice, in so saying we both affirm what is true beyond 
+doubt, and do not still subject our wills thereby to a necessity which 
+destroys liberty. Our wills, therefore, exist as wills, and do themselves 
+whatever we do by willing, and which would not be done if we were 
+unwilling. But when any one suffers anything, being unwilling, by the 
+will of another, even in that case will retains its essential validity—we 
+do not mean the will of the party who inflicts the suffering, for we 
+resolve it into the power of God. For if a will should simply exist, but not 
+be able to do what it wills, it would be overborne by a more powerful 
+will. Nor would this be the case unless there had existed will, and that 
+not the will of the other party, but the will of him who willed, but was 
+not able to accomplish what he willed. Therefore, whatsoever a man 
+suffers contrary to his own will, he ought not to attribute to the will of 
+men, or of angels, or of any created spirit, but rather to His will who 
+
+
+gives power to wills. It is not the case, therefore, that because God 
+foreknew what would be in the power of our wills, there is for that 
+reason nothing in the power of our wills. For he who foreknew this did 
+not foreknow nothing. Moreover, if He who foreknew what would be in 
+the power of our wills did not foreknow nothing, but something, 
+assuredly, even though He did foreknow, there is something in the 
+power of our wills. Therefore we are by no means compelled, either, 
+retaining the prescience of God, to take away the freedom of the will, or, 
+retaining the freedom of the will, to deny that He is prescient of future 
+things, which is impious. But we embrace both. We faithfully and 
+sincerely confess both. The former, that we may believe well; the latter, 
+that we may live well. For he lives ill who does not believe well 
+concerning God. Wherefore, be it far from us, in order to maintain our 
+freedom, to deny the prescience of Him by whose help we are or shall be 
+free. Consequently, it is not in vain that laws are enacted, and that 
+reproaches, exhortations, praises, and vituperations are had recourse to; 
+for these also He foreknew, and they are of great avail, even as great as 
+He foreknew that they would be of. Prayers, also, are of avail to procure 
+those things which He foreknew that He would grant to those who 
+offered them; and with justice have rewards been appointed for good 
+deeds, and punishments for sins. For a man does not therefore sin 
+because God foreknew that be would sin. Nay, it cannot be doubted but 
+that it is the man himself who sins when he does sin, because He, whose 
+foreknowledge is infallible, foreknew not that fate, or fortune, or 
+something else would sin, but that the man himself would sin, who, if he 
+wills not, sins not. But if he shall not will to sin, even this did God 
+foreknow. 
+
+
+11. Concerning the universal providence of God in the laws of which all things are 
+
+
+comprehended 
+
+
+Therefore God supreme and true, with His Word and Holy Spirit 
+(which three are one), one God omnipotent, creator and maker of every 
+soul and of every body; by whose gift all are happy who are happy 
+through verity and not through vanity; who made man a rational animal 
+consisting of soul and body, who, when he sinned, neither permitted him 
+to go unpunished, nor left him without mercy; who has given to the 
+good and to the evil, being in common with stones, vegetable life in 
+
+
+common with trees, sensuous life in common with brutes, intellectual 
+life in common with angels alone; from whom is every mode, every 
+species, every order; from whom are measure, number, weight; from 
+whom is everything which has an existence in nature, of whatever kind 
+it be, and of whatever value; from whom are the seeds of forms and the 
+forms of seeds, and the motion of seeds and of forms; who gave also to 
+flesh its origin, beauty, health, reproductive fecundity, disposition of 
+members, and the salutary concord of its parts; who also to the irrational 
+soul has given memory, sense, appetite, but to the rational soul, in 
+addition to these, has given intelligence and will; who has not left, not to 
+speak of heaven and earth, angels and men, but not even the entrails of 
+the smallest and most contemptible animal, or the feather of a bird, or 
+the little flower of a plant, or the leaf of a tree, without an harmony, 
+and, as it were, a mutual peace among all its parts;—that God can never 
+be believed to have left the kingdoms of men, their dominations and 
+servitudes, outside of the laws of His providence. 
+
+
+12. By what virtues the ancient Romans merited that the true God, although they did not 
+
+
+worship Him, should enlarge their empire 
+
+
+Wherefore let us go on to consider what virtues of the Romans they 
+were which the true God, in whose power are also the kingdoms of the 
+earth, condescended to help in order to raise the empire, and also for 
+what reason He did so. And, in order to discuss this question on clearer 
+ground, we have written the former books, to show that the power of 
+those gods, who, they thought, were to be worshipped with such trifling 
+and silly rites, had nothing to do in this matter; and also what we have 
+already accomplished of the present volume, to refute the doctrine of 
+fate, lest any one who might have been already persuaded that the 
+Roman empire was not extended and preserved by the worship of these 
+gods, might still be attributing its extension and preservation to some 
+kind of fate, rather than to the most powerful will of God most high. The 
+ancient and primitive Romans, therefore, though their history shows us 
+that, like all the other nations, with the sole exception of the Hebrews, 
+they worshipped false gods, and sacrificed victims, not to God, but to 
+demons, have nevertheless this commendation bestowed on them by 
+their historian, that they were “greedy of praise, prodigal of wealth, 
+desirous of great glory, and content with a moderate fortune.”!! Glory 
+
+
+they most ardently loved: for it they wished to live, for it they did not 
+hesitate to die. Every other desire was repressed by the strength of their 
+passion for that one thing. At length their country itself, because it 
+seemed inglorious to serve, but glorious to rule and to command, they 
+first earnestly desired to be free, and then to be mistress. Hence it was 
+that, not enduring the domination of kings, they put the government 
+into the hands of two chiefs, holding office for a year, who were called 
+consuls, not kings or lords.!2 But royal pomp seemed inconsistent with 
+the administration of a ruler (regentis), or the benevolence of one who 
+consults (that is, for the public good) (consulentis), but rather with the 
+haughtiness of a lord (dominantis). King Tarquin, therefore, having been 
+banished, and the consular government having been instituted, it 
+followed, as the same author already alluded to says in his praises of the 
+Romans, that “the state grew with amazing rapidity after it had obtained 
+liberty, so great a desire of glory had taken possession of it.” That 
+eagerness for praise and desire of glory, then, was that which 
+accomplished those many wonderful things, laudable, doubtless, and 
+glorious according to human judgment. The same Sallust praises the 
+great men of his own time, Marcus Cato, and Caius Cesar, saying that 
+for a long time the republic had no one great in virtue, but that within 
+his memory there had been these two men of eminent virtue, and very 
+different pursuits. Now, among the praises which he pronounces on 
+Cesar he put this, that he wished for a great empire, an army, and a new 
+war, that he might have a sphere where his genius and virtue might 
+shine forth. Thus it was ever the prayer of men of heroic character that 
+Bellona would excite miserable nations to war, and lash them into 
+agitation with her bloody scourge, so that there might be occasion for 
+the display of their valour. This, forsooth, is what that desire of praise 
+and thirst for glory did. Wherefore, by the love of liberty in the first 
+place, afterwards also by that of domination and through the desire of 
+praise and glory, they achieved many great things; and their most 
+eminent poet testifies to their having been prompted by all these 
+motives : 
+
+
+“Porsenna there, with pride elate, 
+Bids Rome to Tarquin ope her gate; 
+With arms he hems the city in, 
+
+
+Æneas’ sons stand firm to win.”!% 
+
+
+At that time it was their greatest ambition either to die bravely or to live 
+free; but when liberty was obtained, so great a desire of glory took 
+possession of them, that liberty alone was not enough unless domination 
+also should be sought, their great ambition being that which the same 
+poet puts into the mouth of Jupiter : 
+
+
+“Nay, Juno’s self, whose wild alarms 
+Set ocean, earth, and heaven in arms, 
+Shall change for smiles her moody frown, 
+And vie with me in zeal to crown 
+Rome’s sons, the nation of the gown. 
+
+So stands my will. There comes a day, 
+While Rome’s great ages hold their way, 
+When old Assaracus’s sons 
+
+Shall quit them on the myrmidons, 
+
+O’er Phthia and Mycene reign, 
+
+And humble Argos to their chain.”!4 
+
+
+Which things, indeed, Virgil makes Jupiter predict as future, whilst, in 
+reality, he was only himself passing in review in his own mind things 
+which were already done, and which were beheld by him as present 
+realities. But I have mentioned them with the intention of showing that, 
+next to liberty, the Romans so highly esteemed domination, that it 
+received a place among those things on which they bestowed the 
+greatest praise. Hence also it is that that poet, preferring to the arts of 
+other nations those arts which peculiarly belong to the Romans, namely, 
+the arts of ruling and commanding, and of subjugating and vanquishing 
+nations, says, 
+
+
+“Others, belike, with happier grace, 
+From bronze or stone shall call the face, 
+Plead doubtful causes, map the skies, 
+And tell when planets set or rise; 
+But Roman thou, do thou control 
+
+The nations far and wide; 
+
+
+Be this thy genius, to impose 
+
+
+The rule of peace on vanquished foes, 
+Show pity to the humbled soul, 
+And crush the sons of pride.”!5 
+
+
+These arts they exercised with the more skill the less they gave 
+themselves up to pleasures, and to enervation of body and mind in 
+coveting and amassing riches, and through these corrupting morals, by 
+extorting them from the miserable citizens and lavishing them on base 
+stage-players. Hence these men of base character, who abounded when 
+Sallust wrote and Virgil sang these things, did not seek after honours and 
+glory by these arts, but by treachery and deceit. Wherefore the same 
+says, “But at first it was rather ambition than avarice that stirred the 
+minds of men, which vice, however, is nearer to virtue. For glory, 
+honour, and power are desired alike by the good man and by the 
+ignoble; but the former,” he says, “strives onward to them by the true 
+way, whilst the other, knowing nothing of the good arts, seeks them by 
+fraud and deceit.”16 And what is meant by seeking the attainment of 
+glory, honour, and power by good arts, is to seek them by virtue, and 
+not by deceitful intrigue; for the good and the ignoble man alike desire 
+these things, but the good man strives to overtake them by the true way. 
+The way is virtue, along which he presses as to the goal of possession— 
+namely, to glory, honour, and power. Now that this was a sentiment 
+engrained in the Roman mind, is indicated even by the temples of their 
+gods; for they built in very close proximity the temples of Virtue and 
+Honour, worshipping as gods the gifts of God. Hence we can understand 
+what they who were good thought to be the end of virtue, and to what 
+they ultimately referred it, namely, to honour; for, as to the bad, they 
+had no virtue though they desired honour, and strove to possess it by 
+fraud and deceit. Praise of a higher kind is bestowed upon Cato, for he 
+says of him, “The less he sought glory, the more it followed him.”!7 We 
+say praise of a higher kind; for the glory with the desire of which the 
+Romans burned is the judgment of men thinking well of men. And 
+therefore virtue is better, which is content with no human judgment save 
+that of one’s own conscience. Whence the apostle says, “For this is our 
+glory, the testimony of our conscience.”!18 And in another place he says, 
+“But let every one prove his own work, and then he shall have glory in 
+himself, and not in another.”19 That glory, honour, and power, therefore, 
+
+
+which they desired for themselves, and to which the good sought to 
+attain by good arts, should not be sought after by virtue, but virtue by 
+them. For there is no true virtue except that which is directed towards 
+that end in which is the highest and ultimate good of man. Wherefore 
+even the honours which Cato sought he ought not to have sought, but 
+the state ought to have conferred them on him unsolicited, on account of 
+his virtues. 
+
+But of the two great Romans of that time, Cato was he whose virtue 
+was by far the nearest to the true idea of virtue. Wherefore, let us refer 
+to the opinion of Cato himself, to discover what was the judgment he 
+had formed concerning the condition of the state both then and in 
+former times. “I do not think,” he says, “that it was by arms that our 
+ancestors made the republic great from being small. Had that been the 
+case, the republic of our day would have been by far more flourishing 
+than that of their times, for the number of our allies and citizens is far 
+greater; and, besides, we possess a far greater abundance of armour and 
+of horses than they did. But it was other things than these that made 
+them great, and we have none of them: industry at home, just 
+government without, a mind free in deliberation, addicted neither to 
+crime nor to lust. Instead of these, we have luxury and avarice, poverty 
+in the state, opulence among citizens; we laud riches, we follow laziness; 
+there is no difference made between the good and the bad; all the 
+rewards of virtue are got possession of by intrigue. And no wonder, 
+when every individual consults only for his own good, when ye are the 
+slaves of pleasure at home, and, in public affairs, of money and favour, 
+no wonder that an onslaught is made upon the unprotected republic.”29 
+
+He who hears these words of Cato or of Sallust probably thinks that 
+such praise bestowed on the ancient Romans was applicable to all of 
+them, or, at least, to very many of them. It is not so; otherwise the things 
+which Cato himself writes, and which I have quoted in the second book 
+of this work, would not be true. In that passage he says, that even from 
+the very beginning of the state wrongs were committed by the more 
+powerful, which led to the separation of the people from the fathers, 
+besides which there were other internal dissensions; and the only time at 
+which there existed a just and moderate administration was after the 
+banishment of the kings, and that no longer than whilst they had cause 
+to be afraid of Tarquin, and were carrying on the grievous war which 
+
+
+had been undertaken on his account against Etruria; but afterwards the 
+fathers oppressed the people as slaves, flogged them as the kings had 
+done, drove them from their land, and, to the exclusion of all others, 
+held the government in their own hands alone. And to these discords, 
+whilst the fathers were wishing to rule, and the people were unwilling to 
+serve, the second Punic war put an end; for again great fear began to 
+press upon their disquieted minds, holding them back from those 
+distractions by another and greater anxiety, and bringing them back to 
+civil concord. But the great things which were then achieved were 
+accomplished through the administration of a few men, who were good 
+in their own way. And by the wisdom and forethought of these few good 
+men, which first enabled the republic to endure these evils and mitigated 
+them, it waxed greater and greater. And this the same historian affirms, 
+when he says that, reading and hearing of the many illustrious 
+achievements of the Roman people in peace and in was, by land and by 
+sea, he wished to understand what it was by which these great things 
+were specially sustained. For he knew that very often the Romans had 
+with a small company contended with great legions of the enemy; and 
+he knew also that with small resources they had carried on wars with 
+opulent kings. And he says that, after having given the matter much 
+consideration, it seemed evident to him that the pre-eminent virtue of a 
+few citizens had achieved the whole, and that that explained how 
+poverty overcame wealth, and small numbers great multitudes. But, he 
+adds, after that the state had been corrupted by luxury and indolence, 
+again the republic, by its own greatness, was able to bear the vices of its 
+magistrates and generals. Wherefore even the praises of Cato are only 
+applicable to a few; for only a few were possessed of that virtue which 
+leads men to pursue after glory, honour, and power by the true way— 
+that is, by virtue itself. This industry at home, of which Cato speaks, was 
+the consequence of a desire to enrich the public treasury, even though 
+the result should be poverty at home; and therefore, when he speaks of 
+the evil arising out of the corruption of morals, he reverses the 
+expression, and says, “Poverty in the state, riches at home.” 
+
+
+13. Concerning the love of praise, which, though it is a vice, is reckoned a virtue, because by it 
+
+
+greater vice is restrained 
+
+
+Wherefore, when the kingdoms of the East had been illustrious for a 
+
+
+long time, it pleased God that there should also arise a Western empire, 
+which, though later in time, should be more illustrious in extent and 
+greatness. And, in order that it might overcome the grievous evils which 
+existed among other nations, He purposely granted it to such men as, for 
+the sake of honour, and praise, and glory, consulted well for their 
+country, in whose glory they sought their own, and whose safety they 
+did not hesitate to prefer to their own, suppressing the desire of wealth 
+and many other vices for this one vice, namely, the love of praise. For he 
+has the soundest perception who recognises that even the love of praise 
+is a vice; nor has this escaped the perception of the poet Horace, who 
+says, 
+
+
+“You're bloated by ambition? take advice: 
+
+
+Yon book will ease you if you read it thrice.”21 
+
+
+And the same poet, in a lyric song, hath thus spoken with the desire of 
+repressing the passion for domination : 
+
+
+“Rule an ambitious spirit, and thou hast 
+A wider kingdom than if thou shouldst join 
+To distant Gades Lybia, and thus 
+
+
+Shouldst hold in service either Carthaginian.”22 
+
+
+Nevertheless, they who restrain baser lusts, not by the power of the 
+Holy Spirit obtained by the faith of piety, or by the love of intelligible 
+beauty, but by desire of human praise, or, at all events, restrain them 
+better by the love of such praise, are not indeed yet holy, but only less 
+base. Even Tully was not able to conceal this fact; for, in the same books 
+which he wrote, De Republica, when speaking concerning the education 
+of a chief of the state, who ought, he says, to be nourished on glory, goes 
+on to say that their ancestors did many wonderful and illustrious things 
+through desire of glory. So far, therefore, from resisting this vice, they 
+even thought that it ought to be excited and kindled up, supposing that 
+that would be beneficial to the republic. But not even in his books on 
+philosophy does Tully dissimulate this poisonous opinion, for he there 
+avows it more clearly than day. For when he is speaking of those studies 
+which are to be pursued with a view to the true good, and not with the 
+
+
+vainglorious desire of human praise, he introduces the following 
+universal and general statement : 
+
+
+“Honour nourishes the arts, and all are stimulated to the prosecution of studies by glory; 
+
+
+and those pursuits are always neglected which are generally discredited.”2° 
+
+
+14. Concerning the eradication of the love of human praise, because all the glory of the righteous 
+is in God 
+
+It is, therefore, doubtless far better to resist this desire than to yield to 
+it, for the purer one is from this defilement, the liker is he to God; and, 
+though this vice be not thoroughly eradicated from his heart—for it does 
+not cease to tempt even the minds of those who are making good 
+progress in virtue—at any rate, let the desire of glory be surpassed by 
+the love of righteousness, so that, if there be seen anywhere “lying 
+neglected things which are generally discredited,” if they are good, if 
+they are right, even the love of human praise may blush and yield to the 
+love of truth. For so hostile is this vice to pious faith, if the love of glory 
+be greater in the heart than the fear or love of God, that the Lord said, 
+“How can ye believe, who look for glory from one another, and do not 
+seek the glory which is from God alone?”24 Also, concerning some who 
+had believed on Him, but were afraid to confess Him openly, the 
+evangelist says, “They loved the praise of men more than the praise of 
+God;”25 which did not the holy apostles, who, when they proclaimed the 
+name of Christ in those places where it was not only discredited, and 
+therefore neglected—according as Cicero says, “Those things are always 
+neglected which are generally discredited,”—but was even held in the 
+utmost detestation, holding to what they had heard from the Good 
+Master, who was also the physician of minds, “If any one shall deny me 
+before men, him will I also deny before my Father who is in heaven, and 
+before the angels of God,”26 amidst maledictions and reproaches, and 
+most grievous persecutions and cruel punishments, were not deterred 
+from the preaching of human salvation by the noise of human 
+indignation. And when, as they did and spake divine things, and lived 
+divine lives, conquering, as it were, hard hearts, and introducing into 
+them the peace of righteousness, great glory followed them in the church 
+of Christ, they did not rest in that as in the end of their virtue, but, 
+referring that glory itself to the glory of God, by whose grace they were 
+what they were, they sought to kindle, also by that same flame, the 
+
+
+minds of those for whose good they consulted, to the love of Him, by 
+whom they could be made to be what they themselves were. For their 
+Master had taught them not to seek to be good for the sake of human 
+glory, saying, “Take heed that ye do not your righteousness before men 
+to be seen of them, or otherwise ye shall not have a reward from your 
+Father who is in heaven.”27 But again, lest, understanding this wrongly, 
+they should, through fear of pleasing men, be less useful through 
+concealing their goodness, showing for what end they ought to make it 
+known, He says, “Let your works shine before men, that they may see 
+your good deeds, and glorify your Father who is in heaven.”28 Not, 
+observe, “that ye may be seen by them, that is, in order that their eyes 
+may be directed upon you,”—for of yourselves ye are nothing—but “that 
+they may glorify your Father who is in heaven,” by fixing their regards 
+on whom they may become such as ye are. These the martyrs followed, 
+who surpassed the Sczvolas, and the Curtiuses, and the Deciuses, both in 
+true virtue, because in true piety, and also in the greatness of their 
+number. But since those Romans were in an earthly city, and had before 
+them, as the end of all the offices undertaken in its behalf, its safety, and 
+a kingdom, not in heaven, but in earth—not in the sphere of eternal life, 
+but in the sphere of demise and succession, where the dead are 
+succeeded by the dying—what else but glory should they love, by which 
+they wished even after death to live in the mouths of their admirers? 
+
+
+15. Concerning the temporal reward which God granted to the virtues of the Romans 
+
+
+Now, therefore, with regard to those to whom God did not purpose to 
+give eternal life with His holy angels in His own celestial city, to the 
+society of which that true piety which does not render the service of 
+religion, which the Greeks call 4=*p¢‘2, to any save the true God conducts, 
+if He had also withheld from them the terrestrial glory of that most 
+excellent empire, a reward would not have been rendered to their good 
+arts—that is, their virtues—by which they sought to attain so great 
+glory. For as to those who seem to do some good that they may receive 
+glory from men, the Lord also says, “Verily I say unto you, they have 
+received their reward.”29 So also these despised their own private affairs 
+for the sake of the republic, and for its treasury resisted avarice, 
+consulted for the good of their country with a spirit of freedom, addicted 
+neither to what their laws pronounced to be crime nor to lust. By all 
+
+
+these acts, as by the true way, they pressed forward to honours, power, 
+and glory; they were honoured among almost all nations; they imposed 
+the laws of their empire upon many nations; and at this day, both in 
+literature and history, they are glorious among almost all nations. There 
+is no reason why they should complain against the justice of the 
+supreme and true God—“they have received their reward.” 
+
+
+16. Concerning the reward of the holy citizens of the celestial city, to whom the example of the 
+
+
+virtues of the Roman are useful 
+
+
+But the reward of the saints is far different, who even here endured 
+reproaches for that city of God which is hateful to the lovers of this 
+world. That city is eternal. There none are born, for none die. There is 
+true and full felicity—not a goddess, but a gift of God. Thence we 
+receive the pledge of faith, whilst on our pilgrimage we sigh for its 
+beauty. There rises not the sun on the good and the evil, but the Sun of 
+Righteousness protects the good alone. There no great industry shall be 
+expended to enrich the public treasury by suffering privations at home, 
+for there is the common treasury of truth. And, therefore, it was not only 
+for the sake of recompensing the citizens of Rome that her empire and 
+glory had been so signally extended, but also that the citizens of that 
+eternal city, during their pilgrimage here, might diligently and soberly 
+contemplate these examples, and see what a love they owe to the 
+supernal country on account of life eternal, if the terrestrial country was 
+so much beloved by its citizens on account of human glory. 
+
+
+17. To what profit the Romans carried on wars, and how much they contributed to the well- 
+
+
+being of those whom they conquered 
+
+
+For, as far as this life of mortals is concerned, which is spent and 
+ended in a few days, what does it matter under whose government a 
+dying man lives, if they who govern do not force him to impiety and 
+iniquity? Did the Romans at all harm those nations, on whom, when 
+subjugated, they imposed their laws, except in as far as that was 
+accomplished with great slaughter in war? Now, had it been done with 
+consent of the nations, it would have been done with greater success, but 
+there would have been no glory of conquest, for neither did the Romans 
+themselves live exempt from those laws which they imposed on others. 
+Had this been done without Mars and Bellona, so that there should have 
+
+
+been no place for victory, no one conquering where no one had fought, 
+would not the condition of the Romans and of the other nations have 
+been one and the same, especially if that had been done at once which 
+afterwards was done most humanely and most acceptably, namely, the 
+admission of all to the rights of Roman citizens who belonged to the 
+Roman empire, and if that had been made the privilege of all which was 
+formerly the privilege of a few, with this one condition, that the humbler 
+class who had no lands of their own should live at the public expense— 
+an alimentary impost, which would have been paid with a much better 
+grace by them into the hands of good administrators of the republic, of 
+which they were members, by their own hearty consent, than it would 
+have been paid with had it to be extorted from them as conquered men? 
+For I do not see what it makes for the safety, good morals, and certainly 
+not for the dignity, of men, that some have conquered and others have 
+been conquered, except that it yields them that most insane pomp of 
+human glory, in which “they have received their reward,” who burned 
+with excessive desire of it, and carried on most eager wars. For do not 
+their lands pay tribute? Have they any privilege of learning what the 
+others are not privileged to learn? Are there not many senators in the 
+other countries who do not even know Rome by sight? Take away 
+outward show,2° and what are all men after all but men? But even 
+though the perversity of the age should permit that all the better men 
+should be more highly honoured than others, neither thus should human 
+honour be held at a great price, for it is smoke which has no weight. But 
+let us avail ourselves even in these things of the kindness of God. Let us 
+consider how great things they despised, how great things they endured, 
+what lusts they subdued for the sake of human glory, who merited that 
+glory, as it were, in reward for such virtues; and let this be useful to us 
+even in suppressing pride, so that, as that city in which it has been 
+promised us to reign as far surpasses this one as heaven is distant from 
+the earth, as eternal life surpasses temporal joy, solid glory empty praise, 
+or the society of angels the society of mortals, or the glory of Him who 
+made the sun and moon the light of the sun and moon, the citizens of so 
+great a country may not seem to themselves to have done anything very 
+great, if, in order to obtain it, they have done some good works or 
+endured some evils, when those men for this terrestrial country already 
+obtained, did such great things, suffered such great things. And 
+
+
+especially are all these things to be considered, because the remission of 
+sins which collects citizens to the celestial country has something in it to 
+which a shadowy resemblance is found in that asylum of Romulus, 
+whither escape from the punishment of all manner of crimes 
+congregated that multitude with which the state was to be founded. 
+
+
+18. How far Christians ought to be from boasting, if they have done anything for the love of the 
+
+
+eternal country, when the Romans did such great things for human glory and a terrestrial city 
+
+
+What great thing, therefore, is it for that eternal and celestial city to 
+despise all the charms of this world, however pleasant, if for the sake of 
+this terrestrial city Brutus could even put to death his son—a sacrifice 
+which the heavenly city compels no one to make? But certainly it is 
+more difficult to put to death one’s sons, than to do what is required to 
+be done for the heavenly country, even to distribute to the poor those 
+things which were looked upon as things to be amassed and laid up for 
+one’s children, or to let them go, if there arise any temptation which 
+compels us to do so, for the sake of faith and righteousness. For it is not 
+earthly riches which make us or our sons happy; for they must either be 
+lost by us in our lifetime, or be possessed when we are dead, by whom 
+we know not, or perhaps by whom we would not. But it is God who 
+makes us happy, who is the true riches of minds. But of Brutus, even the 
+poet who celebrates his praises testifies that it was the occasion of 
+unhappiness to him that he slew his son, for he says, 
+
+
+“And call his own rebellious seed 
+For menaced liberty to bleed. 
+Unhappy father! howsoe’er 
+
+The deed be judged by after days.” 
+
+
+But in the following verse he consoles him in his unhappiness, saying, 
+
+
+“His country’s love shall all o’erbear.” 
+
+
+There are those two things, namely, liberty and the desire of human 
+praise, which compelled the Romans to admirable deeds. If, therefore, 
+for the liberty of dying men, and for the desire of human praise which is 
+sought after by mortals, sons could be put to death by a father, what 
+great thing is it, if, for the true liberty which has made us free from the 
+
+
+dominion of sin, and death, and the devil—not through the desire of 
+human praise, but through the earnest desire of freeing men, not from 
+King Tarquin, but from demons and the prince of the demons—we 
+should, I do not say put to death our sons, but reckon among our sons 
+Christ’s poor ones? If, also, another Roman chief, surnamed Torquatus, 
+slew his son, not because he fought against his country, but because, 
+being challenged by an enemy, he through youthful impetuosity fought, 
+though for his country, yet contrary to orders which he his father had 
+given as general; and this he did, notwithstanding that his son was 
+victorious, lest there should be more evil in the example of authority 
+despised, than good in the glory of slaying an enemy;—if, I say, 
+Torquatus acted thus, wherefore should they boast themselves, who, for 
+the laws of a celestial country, despise all earthly good things, which are 
+loved far less than sons? If Furius Camillus, who was condemned by 
+those who envied him, notwithstanding that he had thrown off from the 
+necks of his countrymen the yoke of their most bitter enemies, the 
+Veientes, again delivered his ungrateful country from the Gauls, because 
+he had no other in which he could have better opportunities for living a 
+life of glory;—if Camillus did thus, why should he be extolled as having 
+done some great thing, who, having, it may be, suffered in the church at 
+the hands of carnal enemies most grievous and dishonouring injury, has 
+not betaken himself to heretical enemies, or himself raised some heresy 
+against her, but has rather defended her, as far as he was able, from the 
+most pernicious perversity of heretics, since there is not another church, 
+I say not in which one can live a life of glory, but in which eternal life 
+can be obtained? If Mucius, in order that peace might be made with King 
+Porsenna, who was pressing the Romans with a most grievous war, when 
+he did not succeed in slaying Porsenna, but slew another by mistake for 
+him, reached forth his right hand and laid it on a red-hot altar, saying 
+that many such as he saw him to be had conspired for his destruction, so 
+that Porsenna, terrified at his daring, and at the thought of a conspiracy 
+of such as he, without any delay recalled all his warlike purposes, and 
+made peace;—if, I say, Mucius did this, who shall speak of his 
+meritorious claims to the kingdom of heaven, if for it he may have given 
+to the flames not one hand, but even his whole body, and that not by his 
+own spontaneous act, but because he was persecuted by another? If 
+Curtius, spurring on his steed, threw himself all armed into a precipitous 
+
+
+gulf, obeying the oracles of their gods, which had commanded that the 
+Romans should throw into that gulf the best thing which they possessed, 
+and they could only understand thereby that, since they excelled in men 
+and arms, the gods had commanded that an armed man should be cast 
+headlong into that destruction;—if he did this, shall we say that that 
+man has done a great thing for the eternal city who may have died by a 
+like death, not, however, precipitating himself spontaneously into a gulf, 
+but having suffered this death at the hands of some enemy of his faith, 
+more especially when he has received from his Lord, who is also King of 
+his country, a more certain oracle, “Fear not them who kill the body, but 
+cannot kill the soul?”32 If the Decii dedicated themselves to death, 
+consecrating themselves in a form of words, as it were, that falling, and 
+pacifying by their blood the wrath of the gods, they might be the means 
+of delivering the Roman army;—if they did this, let not the holy martyrs 
+carry themselves proudly, as though they had done some meritorious 
+thing for a share in that country where are eternal life and felicity, if 
+even to the shedding of their blood, loving not only the brethren for 
+whom it was shed, but, according as had been commanded them, even 
+their enemies by whom it was being shed, they have vied with one 
+another in faith of love and love of faith. If Marcus Pulvillus, when 
+engaged in dedicating a temple to Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva, received 
+with such indifference the false intelligence which was brought to him of 
+the death of his son, with the intention of so agitating him that he 
+should go away, and thus the glory of dedicating the temple should fall 
+to his colleague;—if he received that intelligence with such indifference 
+that he even ordered that his son should be cast out unburied, the love 
+of glory having overcome in his heart the grief of bereavement, how 
+shall any one affirm that he has done a great thing for the preaching of 
+the gospel, by which the citizens of the heavenly city are delivered from 
+divers errors, and gathered together from divers wanderings, to whom 
+his Lord has said, when anxious about the burial of his father, “Follow 
+me, and let the dead bury their dead?”33 Regulus, in order not to break 
+his oath, even with his most cruel enemies, returned to them from Rome 
+itself, because (as he is said to have replied to the Romans when they 
+wished to retain him) he could not have the dignity of an honourable 
+citizen at Rome after having been a slave to the Africans, and the 
+Carthaginians put him to death with the utmost tortures, because he had 
+
+
+spoken against them in the senate. If Regulus acted thus, what tortures 
+are not to be despised for the sake of good faith toward that country to 
+whose beatitude faith itself leads? Or what will a man have rendered to 
+the Lord for all He has bestowed upon him, if, for the faithfulness he 
+owes to Him, he shall have suffered such things as Regulus suffered at 
+the hands of his most ruthless enemies for the good faith which he owed 
+to them? And how shall a Christian dare vaunt himself of his voluntary 
+poverty, which he has chosen in order that during the pilgrimage of this 
+life he may walk the more disencumbered on the way which leads to the 
+country where the true riches are, even God Himself;—how, I say, shall 
+he vaunt himself for this, when he hears or reads that Lucius Valerius, 
+who died when he was holding the office of consul, was so poor that his 
+funeral expenses were paid with money collected by the people?—or 
+when he hears that Quintius Cincinnatus, who, possessing only four 
+acres of land, and cultivating them with his own hands, was taken from 
+the plough to be made dictator—an office more honourable even than 
+that of consul—and that, after having won great glory by conquering the 
+enemy, he preferred notwithstanding to continue in his poverty? Or how 
+shall he boast of having done a great thing, who has not been prevailed 
+upon by the offer of any reward of this world to renounce his connection 
+with that heavenly and eternal country, when he hears that Fabricius 
+could not be prevailed on to forsake the Roman city by the great gifts 
+offered to him by Pyrrhus king of the Epirots, who promised him the 
+fourth part of his kingdom, but preferred to abide there in his poverty as 
+a private individual? For if, when their republic—that is, the interest of 
+the people, the interest of the country, the common interest—was most 
+prosperous and wealthy, they themselves were so poor in their own 
+houses, that one of them, who had already been twice a consul, was 
+expelled from that senate of poor men by the censor, because he was 
+discovered to possess ten pounds weight of silver-plate—since, I say, 
+those very men by whose triumphs the public treasury was enriched 
+were so poor, ought not all Christians, who make common property of 
+their riches with a far nobler purpose, even that (according to what is 
+written in the Acts of the Apostles) they may distribute to each one 
+according to his need, and that no one may say that anything is his own, 
+but that all things may be their common possession34—ought they not to 
+understand that they should not vaunt themselves, because they do that 
+
+
+to obtain the society of angels, when those men did well-nigh the same 
+thing to preserve the glory of the Romans? 
+
+How could these, and whatever like things are found in the Roman 
+history, have become so widely known, and have been proclaimed by so 
+great a fame, had not the Roman empire, extending far and wide, been 
+raised to its greatness by magnificent successes? Wherefore, through that 
+empire, so extensive and of so long continuance, so illustrious and 
+glorious also through the virtues of such great men, the reward which 
+they sought was rendered to their earnest aspirations, and also examples 
+are set before us, containing necessary admonition, in order that we may 
+be stung with shame if we shall see that we have not held fast those 
+virtues for the sake of the most glorious city of God, which are, in 
+whatever way, resembled by those virtues which they held fast for the 
+sake of the glory of a terrestrial city, and that, too, if we shall feel 
+conscious that we have held them fast, we may not be lifted up with 
+pride, because, as the apostle says, “The sufferings of the present time 
+are not worthy to be compared to the glory which shall be revealed in 
+us.”35 But so far as regards human and temporal glory, the lives of these 
+ancient Romans were reckoned sufficiently worthy. Therefore, also, we 
+see, in the light of that truth which, veiled in the Old Testament, is 
+revealed in the New, namely, that it is not in view of terrestrial and 
+temporal benefits, which divine providence grants promiscuously to 
+good and evil, that God is to be worshipped, but in view of eternal life, 
+everlasting gifts, and of the society of the heavenly city itself;—in the 
+light of this truth we see that the Jews were most righteously given as a 
+trophy to the glory of the Romans; for we see that these Romans, who 
+rested on earthly glory, and sought to obtain it by virtues, such as they 
+were, conquered those who, in their great depravity, slew and rejected 
+the giver of true glory, and of the eternal city. 
+
+
+19. Concerning the difference between true glory and the desire of domination 
+
+
+There is assuredly a difference between the desire of human glory and 
+the desire of domination; for, though he who has an overweening delight 
+in human glory will be also very prone to aspire earnestly after 
+domination, nevertheless they who desire the true glory even of human 
+praise strive not to displease those who judge well of them. For there are 
+many good moral qualities, of which many are competent judges, 
+
+
+although they are not possessed by many; and by those good moral 
+qualities those men press on to glory, honour, and domination, of whom 
+Sallust says, “But they press on by the true way.” 
+
+But whosoever, without possessing that desire of glory which makes 
+one fear to displease those who judge his conduct, desires domination 
+and power, very often seeks to obtain what he loves by most open 
+crimes. Therefore he who desires glory presses on to obtain it either by 
+the true way, or certainly by deceit and artifice, wishing to appear good 
+when he is not. Therefore to him who possesses virtues it is a great 
+virtue to despise glory; for contempt of it is seen by God, but is not 
+manifest to human judgment. For whatever any one does before the eyes 
+of men in order to show himself to be a despiser of glory, if they suspect 
+that he is doing it in order to get greater praise—that is, greater glory— 
+he has no means of demonstrating to the perceptions of those who 
+suspect him that the case is really otherwise than they suspect it to be. 
+But he who despises the judgment of praisers, despises also the rashness 
+of suspectors. Their salvation, indeed, he does not despise, if he is truly 
+good; for so great is the righteousness of that man who receives his 
+virtues from the Spirit of God, that he loves his very enemies, and so 
+loves them that he desires that his haters and detractors may be turned 
+to righteousness, and become his associates, and that not in an earthly 
+but in a heavenly country. But with respect to his praisers, though he 
+sets little value on their praise, he does not set little value on their love; 
+neither does he elude their praise, lest he should forfeit their love. And, 
+therefore, he strives earnestly to have their praises directed to Him from 
+whom every one receives whatever in him is truly praiseworthy. But he 
+who is a despiser of glory, but is greedy of domination, exceeds the 
+beasts in the vices of cruelty and luxuriousness. Such, indeed, were 
+certain of the Romans, who, wanting the love of esteem, wanted not the 
+thirst for domination; and that there were many such, history testifies. 
+But it was Nero Cesar who was the first to reach the summit, and, as it 
+were, the citadel, of this vice; for so great was his luxuriousness, that 
+one would have thought there was nothing manly to be dreaded in him, 
+and such his cruelty, that, had not the contrary been known, no one 
+would have thought there was anything effeminate in his character. 
+Nevertheless power and domination are not given even to such men save 
+by the providence of the most high God, when He judges that the state 
+
+
+of human affairs is worthy of such lords. The divine utterance is clear on 
+this matter; for the Wisdom of God thus speaks: “By me kings reign, and 
+tyrants possess the land.”3° But, that it may not be thought that by 
+“tyrants” is meant, not wicked and impious kings, but brave men, in 
+accordance with the ancient use of the word, as when Virgil says, 
+
+
+“For know that treaty may not stand 
+
+
+Where king greets king and joins not band,”37 
+
+
+in another place it is most unambiguously said of God, that He “maketh 
+the man who is an hypocrite to reign on account of the perversity of the 
+people.”38 Wherefore, though I have, according to my ability, shown for 
+what reason God, who alone is true and just, helped forward the 
+Romans, who were good according to a certain standard of an earthly 
+state, to the acquirement of the glory of so great an empire, there may 
+be, nevertheless, a more hidden cause, known better to God than to us, 
+depending on the diversity of the merits of the human race. Among all 
+who are truly pious, it is at all events agreed that no one without true 
+piety—that is, true worship of the true God—can have true virtue; and 
+that it is not true virtue which is the slave of human praise. Though, 
+nevertheless, they who are not citizens of the eternal city, which is 
+called the city of God in the sacred Scriptures, are more useful to the 
+earthly city when they possess even that virtue than if they had not even 
+that. But there could be nothing more fortunate for human affairs than 
+that, by the mercy of God, they who are endowed with true piety of life, 
+if they have the skill for ruling people, should also have the power. But 
+such men, however great virtues they possess in this life, attribute it 
+solely to the grace of God that He has bestowed it on them—willing, 
+believing, seeking. And, at the same time, they understand how far they 
+are short of that perfection of righteousness which exists in the society of 
+those holy angels for which they are striving to fit themselves. But 
+however much that virtue may be praised and cried up, which without 
+true piety is the slave of human glory, it is not at all to be compared 
+even to the feeble beginnings of the virtue of the saints, whose hope is 
+placed in the grace and mercy of the true God. 
+
+
+20. That it is as shameful for the virtues to serve human glory as bodily pleasure 
+
+
+Philosophers—who place the end of human good in virtue itself, in 
+order to put to shame certain other philosophers, who indeed approve of 
+the virtues, but measure them all with reference to the end of bodily 
+pleasure, and think that this pleasure is to be sought for its own sake, 
+but the virtues on account of pleasure—are wont to paint a kind of 
+word-picture, in which Pleasure sits like a luxurious queen on a royal 
+seat, and all the virtues are subjected to her as slaves, watching her nod, 
+that they may do whatever she shall command. She commands Prudence 
+to be ever on the watch to discover how Pleasure may rule, and be safe. 
+Justice she orders to grant what benefits she can, in order to secure 
+those friendships which are necessary for bodily pleasure; to do wrong to 
+no one, lest, on account of the breaking of the laws, Pleasure be not able 
+to live in security. Fortitude she orders to keep her mistress, that is, 
+Pleasure, bravely in her mind, if any affliction befall her body which 
+does not occasion death, in order that by remembrance of former 
+delights she may mitigate the poignancy of present pain. Temperance 
+she commands to take only a certain quantity even of the most favourite 
+food, lest, through immoderate use, anything prove hurtful by disturbing 
+the health of the body, and thus Pleasure, which the Epicureans make to 
+consist chiefly in the health of the body, be grievously offended. Thus 
+the virtues, with the whole dignity of their glory, will be the slaves of 
+Pleasure, as of some imperious and disreputable woman. 
+
+There is nothing, say our philosophers, more disgraceful and 
+monstrous than this picture, and which the eyes of good men can less 
+endure. And they say the truth. But I do not think that the picture would 
+be sufficiently becoming, even if it were made so that the virtues should 
+be represented as the slaves of human glory; for, though that glory be 
+not a luxurious woman, it is nevertheless puffed up, and has much 
+vanity in it. Wherefore it is unworthy of the solidity and firmness of the 
+virtues to represent them as serving this glory, so that Prudence shall 
+provide nothing, Justice distribute nothing, Temperance moderate 
+nothing, except to the end that men may be pleased and vainglory 
+served. Nor will they be able to defend themselves from the charge of 
+such baseness, whilst they, by way of being despisers of glory, disregard 
+the judgment of other men, seem to themselves wise, and please 
+themselves. For their virtue—if, indeed, it is virtue at all—is only in 
+another way subjected to human praise; for he who seeks to please 
+
+
+himself seeks still to please man. But he who, with true piety towards 
+God, whom he loves, believes, and hopes in, fixes his attention more on 
+those things in which he displeases himself, than on those things, if there 
+are any such, which please himself, or rather, not himself, but the truth, 
+does not attribute that by which he can now please the truth to anything 
+but to the mercy of Him whom he has feared to displease, giving thanks 
+for what in him is healed, and pouring out prayers for the healing of that 
+which is yet unhealed. 
+
+
+21. That the Roman dominion was granted by Him from whom is all power, and by whose 
+
+
+providence all things are ruled 
+
+
+These things being so, we do not attribute the power of giving 
+kingdoms and empires to any save to the true God, who gives happiness 
+in the kingdom of heaven to the pious alone, but gives kingly power on 
+earth both to the pious and the impious, as it may please Him, whose 
+good pleasure is always just. For though we have said something about 
+the principles which guide His administration, in so far as it has seemed 
+good to Him to explain it, nevertheless it is too much for us, and far 
+surpasses our strength, to discuss the hidden things of men’s hearts, and 
+by a clear examination to determine the merits of various kingdoms. He, 
+therefore, who is the one true God, who never leaves the human race 
+without just judgment and help, gave a kingdom to the Romans when He 
+would, and as great as He would, as He did also to the Assyrians, and 
+even the Persians, by whom, as their own books testify, only two gods 
+are worshipped, the one good and the other evil—to say nothing 
+concerning the Hebrew people, of whom I have already spoken as much 
+as seemed necessary, who, as long as they were a kingdom, worshipped 
+none save the true God. The same, therefore, who gave to the Persians 
+harvests, though they did not worship the goddess Segetia, who gave the 
+other blessings of the earth, though they did not worship the many gods 
+which the Romans supposed to preside, each one over some particular 
+thing, or even many of them over each several thing—He, I say, gave the 
+Persians dominion, though they worshipped none of those gods to whom 
+the Romans believed themselves indebted for the empire. And the same 
+is true in respect of men as well as nations. He who gave power to 
+Marius gave it also to Caius Cesar; He who gave it to Augustus gave it 
+also to Nero; He also who gave it to the most benignant emperors, the 
+
+
+Vespasians, father and son, gave it also to the cruel Domitian; and, 
+finally, to avoid the necessity of going over them all, He who gave it to 
+the Christian Constantine gave it also to the apostate Julian, whose 
+gifted mind was deceived by a sacrilegious and detestable curiosity, 
+stimulated by the love of power. And it was because he was addicted 
+through curiosity to vain oracles, that, confident of victory, he burned 
+the ships which were laden with the provisions necessary for his army, 
+and therefore, engaging with hot zeal in rashly audacious enterprises, he 
+was soon slain, as the just consequence of his recklessness, and left his 
+army unprovisioned in an enemy’s country, and in such a predicament 
+that it never could have escaped, save by altering the boundaries of the 
+Roman empire, in violation of that omen of the god Terminus of which I 
+spoke in the preceding book; for the god Terminus yielded to necessity, 
+though he had not yielded to Jupiter. Manifestly these things are ruled 
+and governed by the one God according as He pleases; and if His motives 
+are hid, are they therefore unjust? 
+
+
+22. The durations and issues of war depend on the will of God 
+
+
+Thus also the durations of wars are determined by Him as He may see 
+meet, according to His righteous will, and pleasure, and mercy, to afflict 
+or to console the human race, so that they are sometimes of longer, 
+sometimes of shorter duration. The war of the Pirates and the third 
+Punic war were terminated with incredible celerity. Also the war of the 
+fugitive gladiators, though in it many Roman generals and the consuls 
+were defeated, and Italy was terribly wasted and ravaged, was 
+nevertheless ended in the third year, having itself been, during its 
+continuance, the end of much. The Picentes, the Marsi, and the Peligni, 
+not distant but Italian nations, after a long and most loyal servitude 
+under the Roman yoke, attempted to raise their heads into liberty, 
+though many nations had now been subjected to the Roman power, and 
+Carthage had been overthrown. In this Italian war the Romans were very 
+often defeated, and two consuls perished, besides other noble senators; 
+nevertheless this calamity was not protracted over a long space of time, 
+for the fifth year put an end to it. But the second Punic war, lasting for 
+the space of eighteen years, and occasioning the greatest disasters and 
+calamities to the republic, wore out and well-nigh consumed the 
+strength of the Romans; for in two battles about seventy thousand 
+
+
+Romans fell.39 The first Punic war was terminated after having been 
+waged for three-and-twenty years. The Mithridatic war was waged for 
+forty years. And that no one may think that in the early and much 
+belauded times of the Romans they were far braver and more able to 
+bring wars to a speedy termination, the Samnite war was protracted for 
+nearly fifty years; and in this war the Romans were so beaten that they 
+were even put under the yoke. But because they did not love glory for 
+the sake of justice, but seemed rather to have loved justice for the sake 
+of glory, they broke the peace and the treaty which had been concluded. 
+These things I mention, because many, ignorant of past things, and some 
+also dissimulating what they know, if in Christian times they see any 
+war protracted a little longer than they expected, straightway make a 
+fierce and insolent attack on our religion, exclaiming that, but for it, the 
+deities would have been supplicated still, according to ancient rites; and 
+then, by that bravery of the Romans, which, with the help of Mars and 
+Bellona, speedily brought to an end such great wars, this war also would 
+be speedily terminated. Let them, therefore, who have read history 
+recollect what long-continued wars, having various issues and entailing 
+woful slaughter, were waged by the ancient Romans, in accordance with 
+the general truth that the earth, like the tempestuous deep, is subject to 
+agitations from tempests—tempests of such evils, in various degrees— 
+and let them sometimes confess what they do not like to own, and not, 
+by madly speaking against God, destroy themselves and deceive the 
+ignorant. 
+
+
+23. Concerning the war in which Radagaisus, king of the Goths, a worshipper of demons, was 
+
+
+conquered in one day, with all his mighty forces 
+
+
+Nevertheless they do not mention with thanksgiving what God has 
+very recently, and within our own memory, wonderfully and mercifully 
+done, but as far as in them lies they attempt, if possible, to bury it in 
+universal oblivion. But should we be silent about these things, we should 
+be in like manner ungrateful. When Radagaisus, king of the Goths, 
+having taken up his position very near to the city, with a vast and savage 
+army, was already close upon the Romans, he was in one day so speedily 
+and so thoroughly beaten, that, whilst not even one Roman was 
+wounded, much less slain, far more than a hundred thousand of his army 
+were prostrated, and he himself and his sons, having been captured, 
+
+
+were forthwith put to death, suffering the punishment they deserved. For 
+had so impious a man, with so great and so impious a host, entered the 
+city, whom would he have spared? what tombs of the martyrs would he 
+have respected? in his treatment of what person would he have 
+manifested the fear of God? whose blood would he have refrained from 
+shedding? whose chastity would he have wished to preserve inviolate? 
+But how loud would they not have been in the praises of their gods! 
+How insultingly they would have boasted, saying that Radagaisus had 
+conquered, that he had been able to achieve such great things, because 
+he propitiated and won over the gods by daily sacrifices—a thing which 
+the Christian religion did not allow the Romans to do! For when he was 
+approaching to those places where he was overwhelmed at the nod of 
+the Supreme Majesty, as his fame was everywhere increasing, it was 
+being told us at Carthage that the pagans were believing, publishing, and 
+boasting, that he, on account of the help and protection of the gods 
+friendly to him, because of the sacrifices which he was said to be daily 
+offering to them, would certainly not be conquered by those who were 
+not performing such sacrifices to the Roman gods, and did not even 
+permit that they should be offered by any one. And now these wretched 
+men do not give thanks to God for His great mercy, who, having 
+determined to chastise the corruption of men, which was worthy of far 
+heavier chastisement than the corruption of the barbarians, tempered 
+His indignation with such mildness as, in the first instance, to cause that 
+the king of the Goths should be conquered in a wonderful manner, lest 
+glory should accrue to demons, whom he was known to be supplicating, 
+and thus the minds of the weak should be overthrown; and then, 
+afterwards, to cause that, when Rome was to be taken, it should be taken 
+by those barbarians who, contrary to any custom of all former wars, 
+protected, through reverence for the Christian religion, those who fled 
+for refuge to the sacred places, and who so opposed the demons 
+themselves, and the rites of impious sacrifices, that they seemed to be 
+carrying on a far more terrible war with them than with men. Thus did 
+the true Lord and Governor of things both scourge the Romans 
+mercifully, and, by the marvellous defeat of the worshippers of demons, 
+show that those sacrifices were not necessary even for the safety of 
+present things; so that, by those who do not obstinately hold out, but 
+prudently consider the matter, true religion may not be deserted on 
+
+
+account of the urgencies of the present time, but may be more clung to 
+in most confident expectation of eternal life. 
+
+
+24. What was the happiness of the Christian emperors, and how far it was true happiness 
+
+
+For neither do we say that certain Christian emperors were therefore 
+happy because they ruled a long time, or, dying a peaceful death, left 
+their sons to succeed them in the empire, or subdued the enemies of the 
+republic, or were able both to guard against and to suppress the attempt 
+of hostile citizens rising against them. These and other gifts or comforts 
+of this sorrowful life even certain worshippers of demons have merited 
+to receive, who do not belong to the kingdom of God to which these 
+belong; and this is to be traced to the mercy of God, who would not have 
+those who believe in Him desire such things as the highest good. But we 
+say that they are happy if they rule justly; if they are not lifted up amid 
+the praises of those who pay them sublime honours, and the 
+obsequiousness of those who salute them with an excessive humility, but 
+remember that they are men; if they make their power the handmaid of 
+His majesty by using it for the greatest possible extension of His worship; 
+if they fear, love, worship God; if more than their own they love that 
+kingdom in which they are not afraid to have partners; if they are slow 
+to punish, ready to pardon; if they apply that punishment as necessary to 
+government and defence of the republic, and not in order to gratify their 
+own enmity; if they grant pardon, not that iniquity may go unpunished, 
+but with the hope that the transgressor may amend his ways; if they 
+compensate with the lenity of mercy and the liberality of benevolence 
+for whatever severity they may be compelled to decree; if their luxury is 
+as much restrained as it might have been unrestrained; if they prefer to 
+govern depraved desires rather than any nation whatever; and if they do 
+all these things, not through ardent desire of empty glory, but through 
+love of eternal felicity, not neglecting to offer to the true God, who is 
+their God, for their sins, the sacrifices of humility, contrition, and prayer. 
+Such Christian emperors, we say, are happy in the present time by hope, 
+and are destined to be so in the enjoyment of the reality itself, when that 
+which we wait for shall have arrived. 
+
+
+25. Concerning the prosperity which God granted to the Christian emperor Constantine 
+
+
+For the good God, lest men, who believe that He is to be worshipped 
+
+
+with a view to eternal life, should think that no one could attain to all 
+this high estate, and to this terrestrial dominion, unless he should be a 
+worshipper of the demons—supposing that these spirits have great 
+power with respect to such things—for this reason He gave to the 
+Emperor Constantine, who was not a worshipper of demons, but of the 
+true God Himself, such fulness of earthly gifts as no one would even dare 
+wish for. To him also He granted the honour of founding a city,4° a 
+companion to the Roman empire, the daughter, as it were, of Rome 
+itself, but without any temple or image of the demons. He reigned for a 
+long period as sole emperor, and unaided held and defended the whole 
+Roman world. In conducting and carrying on wars he was most 
+victorious; in overthrowing tyrants he was most successful. He died at a 
+great age, of sickness and old age, and left his sons to succeed him in the 
+empire.*! But again, lest any emperor should become a Christian in 
+order to merit the happiness of Constantine, when every one should be a 
+Christian for the sake of eternal life, God took away Jovian far sooner 
+than Julian, and permitted that Gratian should be slain by the sword of a 
+tyrant. But in his case there was far more mitigation of the calamity than 
+in the case of the great Pompey, for he could not be avenged by Cato, 
+whom he had left, as it were, heir to the civil war. But Gratian, though 
+pious minds require not such consolations, was avenged by Theodosius, 
+whom he had associated with himself in the empire, though he had a 
+little brother of his own, being more desirous of a faithful alliance than 
+of extensive power. 
+
+
+26. On the faith and piety of Theodosius Augustus 
+
+
+And on this account, Theodosius not only preserved during the 
+lifetime of Gratian that fidelity which was due to him, but also, after his 
+death, he, like a true Christian, took his little brother Valentinian under 
+his protection, as joint emperor, after he had been expelled by Maximus, 
+the murderer of his father. He guarded him with paternal affection, 
+though he might without any difficulty have got rid of him, being 
+entirely destitute of all resources, had he been animated with the desire 
+of extensive empire, and not with the ambition of being a benefactor. It 
+was therefore a far greater pleasure to him, when he had adopted the 
+boy, and preserved to him his imperial dignity, to console him by his 
+very humanity and kindness. Afterwards, when that success was 
+
+
+rendering Maximus terrible, Theodosius, in the midst of his perplexing 
+anxieties, was not drawn away to follow the suggestions of a sacrilegious 
+and unlawful curiosity, but sent to John, whose abode was in the desert 
+of Egypt—for he had learned that this servant of God (whose fame was 
+spreading abroad) was endowed with the gift of prophecy—and from 
+him he received assurance of victory. Immediately the slayer of the 
+tyrant Maximus, with the deepest feelings of compassion and respect, 
+restored the boy Valentinianus to his share in the empire from which he 
+had been driven. Valentinianus being soon after slain by secret 
+assassination, or by some other plot or accident, Theodosius, having 
+again received a response from the prophet, and placing entire 
+confidence in it, marched against the tyrant Eugenius, who had been 
+unlawfully elected to succeed that emperor, and defeated his very 
+powerful army, more by prayer than by the sword. Some soldiers who 
+were at the battle reported to me that all the missiles they were 
+throwing were snatched from their hands by a vehement wind, which 
+blew from the direction of Theodosius’ army upon the enemy; nor did it 
+only drive with greater velocity the darts which were hurled against 
+them, but also turned back upon their own bodies the darts which they 
+themselves were throwing. And therefore the poet Claudian, although an 
+alien from the name of Christ, nevertheless says in his praises of him, “O 
+prince, too much beloved by God, for thee Æolus pours armed tempests 
+from their caves; for thee the air fights, and the winds with one accord 
+obey thy bugles.”42 But the victor, as he had believed and predicted, 
+overthrew the statues of Jupiter, which had been, as it were, consecrated 
+by I know not what kind of rites against him, and set up in the Alps. And 
+the thunderbolts of these statues, which were made of gold, he 
+mirthfully and graciously presented to his couriers, who (as the joy of 
+the occasion permitted) were jocularly saying that they would be most 
+happy to be struck by such thunderbolts. The sons of his own enemies, 
+whose fathers had been slain not so much by his orders as by the 
+vehemence of war, having fled for refuge to a church, though they were 
+not yet Christians, he was anxious, taking advantage of the occasion, to 
+bring over to Christianity, and treated them with Christian love. Nor did 
+he deprive them of their property, but, besides allowing them to retain 
+it, bestowed on them additional honours. He did not permit private 
+animosities to affect the treatment of any man after the war. He was not 
+
+
+like Cinna, and Marius, and Sylla, and other such men, who wished not 
+to finish civil wars even when they were finished, but rather grieved that 
+they had arisen at all, than wished that when they were finished they 
+should harm any one. Amid all these events, from the very 
+commencement of his reign, he did not cease to help the troubled church 
+against the impious by most just and merciful laws, which the heretical 
+Valens, favouring the Arians, had vehemently afflicted. Indeed, he 
+rejoiced more to be a member of this church than he did to be a king 
+upon the earth. The idols of the Gentiles he everywhere ordered to be 
+overthrown, understanding well that not even terrestrial gifts are placed 
+in the power of demons, but in that of the true God. And what could be 
+more admirable than his religious humility, when, compelled by the 
+urgency of certain of his intimates, he avenged the grievous crime of the 
+Thessalonians, which at the prayer of the bishops he had promised to 
+pardon, and, being laid hold of by the discipline of the church, did 
+penance in such a way that the sight of his imperial loftiness prostrated 
+made the people who were interceding for him weep more than the 
+consciousness of offence had made them fear it when enraged? These 
+and other similar good works, which it would be long to tell, he carried 
+with him from this world of time, where the greatest human nobility and 
+loftiness are but vapour. Of these works the reward is eternal happiness, 
+of which God is the giver, though only to those who are sincerely pious. 
+But all other blessings and privileges of this life, as the world itself, light, 
+air, earth, water, fruits, and the soul of man himself, his body, senses, 
+mind, life, He lavishes on good and bad alike. And among these blessings 
+is also to be reckoned the possession of an empire, whose extent He 
+regulates according to the requirements of His providential government 
+at various times. Whence, I see, we must now answer those who, being 
+confuted and convicted by the most manifest proofs, by which it is 
+shown that for obtaining these terrestrial things, which are all the 
+foolish desire to have, that multitude of false gods is of no use, attempt 
+to assert that the gods are to be worshipped with a view to the interest, 
+not of the present life, but of that which is to come after death. For as to 
+those who, for the sake of the friendship of this world, are willing to 
+worship vanities, and do not grieve that they are left to their puerile 
+understandings, I think they have been sufficiently answered in these 
+five books; of which books, when I had published the first three, and 
+
+
+they had begun to come into the hands of many, I heard that certain 
+persons were preparing against them an answer of some kind or other in 
+writing. Then it was told me that they had already written their answer, 
+but were waiting a time when they could publish it without danger. 
+Such persons I would advise not to desire what cannot be of any 
+advantage to them; for it is very easy for a man to seem to himself to 
+have answered arguments, when he has only been unwilling to be silent. 
+For what is more loquacious than vanity? And though it be able, if it 
+like, to shout more loudly than the truth, it is not, for all that, more 
+powerful than the truth. But let men consider diligently all the things 
+that we have said, and if, perchance, judging without party spirit, they 
+shall clearly perceive that they are such things as may rather be shaken 
+than torn up by their most impudent garrulity, and, as it were, satirical 
+and mimic levity, let them restrain their absurdities, and let them choose 
+rather to be corrected by the wise than to be lauded by the foolish. For if 
+they are waiting an opportunity, not for liberty to speak the truth, but 
+for licence to revile, may not that befall them which Tully says 
+concerning some one, “Oh, wretched man! who was at liberty to sin?”43 
+Wherefore, whoever he be who deems himself happy because of licence 
+to revile, he would be far happier if that were not allowed him at all; for 
+he might all the while, laying aside empty boast, be contradicting those 
+to whose views he is opposed by way of free consultation with them, and 
+be listening, as it becomes him, honourably, gravely, candidly, to all that 
+can be adduced by those whom he consults by friendly disputation. 
+
+
+1 Written in the year 415. 
+
+
+2 On the application of astrology to national prosperity, and the success of certain religions, see 
+
+
+Lecky’s Rationalism, i. 303. 
+
+
+3 This fact is not recorded in any of the extant works of Hippocrates or Cicero. Vives supposes it 
+
+
+may have found place in Cicero’s book, De Fato. 
+4 i.e. the potter. 
+
+5 Epist. 107. 
+
+6 Odyssey, xviii. 136, 137. 
+
+7 De Divinat. ii. 
+
+8 Ps. xiv. 1. 
+
+
+9 Book iii. 
+
+
+10 Ps, lxii. 11, 12. 
+11 Sallust, Cat. vii. 
+
+
+12 Augustine notes that the name consul is derived from consulere, and thus signifies a more 
+
+
+benign rule than that of a rex (from regere), or dominus (from dominari). 
+13 Æneid, viii. 646. 
+
+14 Æneid, i. 279. 
+
+15 Æneid, vi. 847. 
+
+16 Sallust, in Cat. c. xi. 
+17 Sallust, in Cat. c. 54. 
+18 2 Cor. i. 12. 
+
+19 Gal. vi. 4. 
+
+20 Sallust, in Cat. c. 52. 
+21 Horace, Epist. i. 1. 36. 37. 
+22 Hor. Carm. ii. 2. 
+
+23 Tusc. Ouast. i. 2. 
+
+24 John v. 44. 
+
+25 John xii. 43. 
+
+26 Matt. x. 33. 
+
+27 Matt. vi. 1. 
+
+28 Matt. v. 16. 
+
+29 Matt. vi. 2. 
+
+30 Jactantia. 
+
+31 Æneid, vi. 820. 
+
+32 Matt. x. 28. 
+
+33 Matt. viii. 22. 
+
+34 Acts ii. 45. 
+
+35 Rom. viii. 18. 
+
+36 Prov. viii. 15. 
+
+37 Æneid. vii. 266 
+38Job xxxiv. 30. 
+
+
+39 Of the Thrasymene Lake and Cannæ. 
+
+
+40 Constantinople. 
+41 Constantius, Constantine, and Constans. 
+42 Panegyr. de tertio Honorii consulatu. 
+
+
+43 Tusc. Quest. v. 19. 
+
+
+BOOK SIXTH 
+
+
+ARGUMENT 
+
+
+MITHERTO THE ARGUMENT HAS BEEN CONDUCTED AGAINST THOSE WHO BELIEVE THAT THE GODS ARE 
+TO BE WORSHIPPED FOR THE SAKE OF TEMPORAL ADVANTAGES, NOW IT IS DIRECTED AGAINST THOSE 
+WHO BELIEVE THAT THEY ARE TO BE WORSHIPPED FOR THE SAKE OF ETERNAL LIFE. AUGUSTINE 
+DEVOTES THE FIVE FOLLOWING BOOKS TO THE CONFUTATION OF THIS LATTER BELIEF, AND FIRST OF ALL 
+SHOWS HOW MEAN AN OPINION OF THE GODS WAS HELD BY VARRO HIMSELF, THE MOST ESTEEMED 
+WRITER ON HEATHEN THEOLOGY. OF THIS THEOLOGY AUGUSTINE ADOPTS VARRO’S DIVISION INTO 
+THREE KINDS, MYTHICAL, NATURAL, AND CIVIL; AND AT ONCE DEMONSTRATES THAT NEITHER THE 
+
+
+MYTHICAL NOR THE CIVIL CAN CONTRIBUTE ANYTHING TO THE HAPPINESS OF THE FUTURE LIFE. 
+
+
+PREFACE 
+
+
+[2 the five former books, I think I have sufficiently disputed against 
+those who believe that the many false gods, which the Christian truth 
+shows to be useless images, or unclean spirits and pernicious demons, or 
+certainly creatures, not the Creator, are to be worshipped for the 
+advantage of this mortal life, and of terrestrial affairs, with that rite and 
+service which the Greeks call 4t¢¢«, and which is due to the one true 
+God. And who does not know that, in the face of excessive stupidity and 
+obstinacy, neither these five nor any other number of books whatsoever 
+could be enough, when it is esteemed the glory of vanity to yield to no 
+amount of strength on the side of truth—certainly to his destruction over 
+whom so heinous a vice tyrannizes? For, notwithstanding all the 
+assiduity of the physician who attempts to effect a cure, the disease 
+remains unconquered, not through any fault of his, but because of the 
+incurableness of the sick man. But those who thoroughly weigh the 
+things which they read, having understood and considered them, 
+without any, or with no great and excessive degree of that obstinacy 
+which belongs to a long-cherished error, will more readily judge that, in 
+the five books already finished, we have done more than the necessity of 
+the question demanded, than that we have given it less discussion than it 
+
+
+required. And they cannot have doubted but that all the hatred which 
+the ignorant attempt to bring upon the Christian religion on account of 
+the disasters of this life, and the destruction and change which befall 
+terrestrial things, whilst the learned do not merely dissimulate. but 
+encourage that hatred, contrary to their own consciences, being 
+possessed by a mad impiety;—they cannot have doubted, I say, but that 
+this hatred is devoid of right reflection and reason, and full of most light 
+temerity, and most pernicious animosity. 
+
+
+1. Of those who maintain that they worship the gods not for the sake of temporal, but eternal 
+
+
+advantages 
+
+
+Now, as, in the next place (as the promised order demands), those are 
+to be refuted and taught who contend that the gods of the nations, 
+which the Christian truth destroys, are to be worshipped not on account 
+of this life, but on account of that which is to be after death, I shall do 
+well to commence my disputation with the truthful oracle of the holy 
+psalm, “Blessed is the man whose hope is the Lord God, and who 
+respecteth not vanities and lying follies.”! Nevertheless, in all vanities 
+and lying follies the philosophers are to be listened to with far more 
+toleration, who have repudiated those opinions and errors of the people; 
+for the people set up images to the deities, and either feigned concerning 
+those whom they call immortal gods many false and unworthy things, or 
+believed them, already feigned, and, when believed, mixed them up with 
+their worship and sacred rites. 
+
+With those men who, though not by free avowal of their convictions, 
+do still testify that they disapprove of those things by their muttering 
+disapprobation during disputations on the subject, it may not be very far 
+amiss to discuss the following question: Whether, for the sake of the life 
+which is to be after death, we ought to worship, not the one God, who 
+made all creatures spiritual and corporeal, but those many gods who, as 
+some of these philosophers hold, were made by that one God, and placed 
+by Him in their respective sublime spheres, and are therefore considered 
+more excellent and more noble than all the others?2 But who will assert 
+that it must be affirmed and contended that those gods, certain of whom 
+I have mentioned in the fourth book,? to whom are distributed, each to 
+each, the charges of minute things, do bestow eternal life? But will those 
+most skilled and most acute men, who glory in having written for the 
+
+
+great benefit of men, to teach on what account each god is to be 
+worshipped, and what is to be sought from each, lest with most 
+disgraceful absurdity, such as a mimic is wont for the sake of merriment 
+to exhibit, water should be sought from Liber, wine from the Lymphs— 
+will those men indeed affirm to any man supplicating the immortal gods, 
+that when he shall have asked wine from the Lymphs, and they shall 
+have answered him, “We have water, seek wine from Liber,” he may 
+rightly say, “If ye have not wine, at least give me eternal life?” What 
+more monstrous than this absurdity? Will not these Lymphs—for they 
+are wont to be very easily made laugh*—laughing loudly (if they do not 
+attempt to deceive like demons), answer the suppliant, “O man, dost 
+thou think that we have life (vitam) in our power, who thou hearest have 
+not even the vine (vitem)?” It is therefore most impudent folly to seek 
+and hope for eternal life from such gods as are asserted so to preside 
+over the separate minute concernments of this most sorrowful and short 
+life, and whatever is useful for supporting and propping it, as that if 
+anything which is under the care and power of one be sought from 
+another, it is so incongruous and absurd that it appears very like to 
+mimic drollery—which, when it is done by mimics knowing what they 
+are doing, is deservedly laughed at in the theatre, but when it is done by 
+foolish persons, who do not know better, is more deservedly ridiculed in 
+the world. Wherefore, as concerns those gods which the states have 
+established, it has been cleverly invented and handed down to memory 
+by learned men, what god or goddess is to be supplicated in relation to 
+every particular thing—what, for instance, is to be sought from Liber, 
+what from the Lymphs, what from Vulcan, and so of all the rest, some of 
+whom I have mentioned in the fourth book, and some I have thought 
+right to omit. Further, if it is an error to seek wine from Ceres, bread 
+from Liber, water from Vulcan, fire from the Lymphs, how much greater 
+absurdity ought it to be thought, if supplication be made to any one of 
+these for eternal life? 
+
+Wherefore, if, when we were inquiring what gods or goddesses are to 
+be believed to be able to confer earthly kingdoms upon men, all things 
+having been discussed, it was shown to be very far from the truth to 
+think that even terrestrial kingdoms are established by any of those 
+many false deities, is it not most insane impiety to believe that eternal 
+life, which is, without any doubt or comparison, to be preferred to all 
+
+
+terrestrial kingdoms, can be given to any one by any of these gods? For 
+the reason why such gods seemed to us not to be able to give even an 
+earthly kingdom, was not because they are very great and exalted, whilst 
+that is something small and abject, which they, in their so great 
+sublimity, would not condescend to care for, but because, however 
+deservedly any one may, in consideration of human frailty, despise the 
+falling pinnacles of an earthly kingdom, these gods have presented such 
+an appearance as to seem most unworthy to have the granting and 
+preserving of even those entrusted to them; and consequently, if (as we 
+have taught in the two last books of our work, where this matter is 
+treated of) no god out of all that crowd, either belonging to, as it were, 
+the plebeian or to the noble gods, is fit to give mortal kingdoms to 
+mortals, how much less is he able to make immortals of mortals? 
+
+And more than this, if, according to the opinion of those with whom 
+we are now arguing, the gods are to be worshipped, not on account of 
+the present life, but of that which is to be after death, then, certainly, 
+they are not to be worshipped on account of those particular things 
+which are distributed and portioned out (not by any law of rational 
+truth, but by mere vain conjecture) to the power of such gods, as they 
+believe they ought to be worshipped, who contend that their worship is 
+necessary for all the desirable things of this mortal life, against whom I 
+have disputed sufficiently, as far as I was able, in the five preceding 
+books. These things being so, if the age itself of those who worshipped( 
+the goddess Juventas should be characterized by remarkable vigour, 
+whilst her despisers should either die within the years of youth, or 
+should, during that period, grow cold as with the torpor of old age, if 
+bearded Fortuna should cover the cheeks of her worshippers more 
+handsomely and more gracefully than all others, whilst we should see 
+those by whom she was despised either altogether beardless or ill- 
+bearded; even then we should most rightly say, that thus far these 
+several gods had power, limited in some way by their functions, and 
+that, consequently, neither ought eternal life to be sought from Juventas, 
+who could not give a beard, nor ought any good thing after this life to be 
+expected from Fortuna Barbata, who has no power even in this life to 
+give the age itself at which the beard grows. But now, when their 
+worship is necessary not even on account of those very things which 
+they think are subjected to their power—for many worshippers of the 
+
+
+goddess Juventas have not been at all vigorous at that age, and many 
+who do not worship her rejoice in youthful strength; and also many 
+suppliants of Fortuna Barbata have either not been able to attain to any 
+beard at all, not even an ugly one, although they who adore her in order 
+to obtain a beard are ridiculed by her bearded despisers—is the human 
+heart really so foolish as to believe that that worship of the gods, which 
+it acknowledges to be vain and ridiculous with respect to those very 
+temporal and swiftly passing gifts, over each of which one of these gods 
+is said to preside, is fruitful in results with respect to eternal life? And 
+that they are able to give eternal life has not been affirmed even by 
+those who, that they might be worshipped by the silly populace 
+distributed in minute division among them these temporal occupations, 
+that none of them might sit idle; for they had supposed the existence of 
+an exceedingly great number. 
+
+
+2. What we are to believe that Varro thought concerning the gods of the nations, whose various 
+kinds and sacred rites he has shown to be such that he would have acted more reverently 
+
+
+towards them had he been altogether silent concerning them 
+
+
+Who has investigated those things more carefully than Marcus Varro? 
+Who has discovered them more learnedly? Who has considered them 
+more attentively? Who has distinguished them more acutely? Who has 
+written about them more diligently and more fully?—who, though he is 
+less pleasing in his eloquence, is nevertheless so full of instruction and 
+wisdom, that in all the erudition which we call secular, but they liberal, 
+he will teach the student of things as much as Cicero delights the student 
+of words. And even Tully himself renders him such testimony, as to say 
+in his Academic books that he had held that disputation which is there 
+carried on with Marcus Varro, “a man,” he adds, “unquestionably the 
+acutest of all men, and, without any doubt, the most learned.”5 He does 
+not say the most eloquent or the most fluent, for in reality he was very 
+deficient in this faculty, but he says, “of all men the most acute.” And in 
+those books—that is, the Academic—where he contends that all things 
+are to be doubted, he adds of him, “without any doubt the most 
+learned.” In truth, he was so certain concerning this thing, that he laid 
+aside that doubt which he is wont to have recourse to in all things, as if, 
+when about to dispute in favour of the doubt of the Academics, he had, 
+with respect to this one thing, forgotten that he was an Academic. But in 
+
+
+the first book, when he extols the literary works of the same Varro, he 
+says, “Us straying and wandering in our own city like strangers, thy 
+books, as it were, brought home, that at length we might come to know 
+of who we were and where we were. Thou hast opened up to us the age 
+of the country, the distribution of seasons, the laws of sacred things, and 
+of the priests; thou hast opened up to us domestic and public discipline; 
+thou hast pointed out to us the proper places for religious ceremonies, 
+and hast informed us concerning sacred places. Thou hast shown us the 
+names, kinds, offices, causes of all divine and human things.” 
+
+This man, then, of so distinguished and excellent acquirements, and, 
+as Terentian briefly says of him in a most elegant verse, 
+
+
+“Varro, a man universally informed,”” 
+
+
+who read so much that we wonder when he had time to write, wrote so 
+much that we can scarcely believe any one could have read it all—this 
+man, I say, so great in talent, so great in learning, had he been an 
+opposer and destroyer of the so-called divine things of which he wrote, 
+and had he said that they pertained to superstition rather than to 
+religion, might perhaps, even in that case, not have written so many 
+things which are ridiculous, contemptible, detestable. But when he so 
+worshipped these same gods, and so vindicated their worship, as to say, 
+in that same literary work of his, that he was afraid lest they should 
+perish, not by an assault by enemies, but by the negligence of the 
+citizens, and that from this ignominy they are being delivered by him, 
+and are being laid up and preserved in the memory of the good by 
+means of such books, with a zeal far more beneficial than that through 
+which Metellus is declared to have rescued the sacred things of Vesta 
+from the flames, and Æneas to have rescued the Penates from the 
+burning of Troy; and when he, nevertheless, gives forth such things to be 
+read by succeeding ages as are deservedly judged by wise and unwise to 
+be unfit to be read, and to be most hostile to the truth of religion; what 
+ought we to think but that a most acute and learned man—not, however, 
+made free by the Holy Spirit—was overpowered by the custom and laws 
+of his state, and, not being able to be silent about those things by which 
+he was influenced, spoke of them under pretence of commending 
+religion? 
+
+
+3. Varro’s distribution of his book which he composed concerning the antiquities of human and 
+
+
+divine things 
+
+
+He wrote forty-one books of antiquities. These he divided into human 
+and divine things. Twenty-five he devoted to human things, sixteen to 
+divine things; following this plan in that division—namely, to give six 
+books to each of the four divisions of human things. For he directs his 
+attention to these considerations: who perform, where they perform, 
+when they perform, what they perform. Therefore in the first six books 
+he wrote concerning men; in the second six, concerning places; in the 
+third six, concerning times; in the fourth and last six, concerning things. 
+Four times six, however, make only twenty-four. But he placed at the 
+head of them one separate work, which spoke of all these things 
+conjointly. 
+
+In divine things, the same order he preserved throughout, as far as 
+concerns those things which are performed to the gods. For sacred things 
+are performed by men in places and times. These four things I have 
+mentioned he embraced in twelve books, allotting three to each. For he 
+wrote the first three concerning men, the following three concerning 
+places, the third three concerning times, and the fourth three concerning 
+sacred rites—showing who should perform, where they should perform, 
+when they should perform, what they should perform, with most subtle 
+distinction. But because it was necessary to say—and that especially was 
+expected—to whom they should perform sacred rites, he wrote 
+concerning the gods themselves the last three books; and these five times 
+three made fifteen. But they are in all, as we have said, sixteen. For he 
+put also at the beginning of these one distinct book, speaking by way of 
+introduction of all which follows; which being finished, he proceeded to 
+subdivide the first three in that fivefold distribution which pertain to 
+men, making the first concerning high priests, the second concerning 
+augurs, the third concerning the fifteen men presiding over the sacred 
+ceremonies.’ The second three he made concerning places, speaking in 
+one of them concerning their chapels, in the second concerning their 
+temples, and in the third concerning religious places. The next three 
+which follow these, and pertain to times—that is, to festival days—he 
+distributed so as to make one concerning holidays, the other concerning 
+the circus games, and the third concerning scenic plays. Of the fourth 
+three, pertaining to sacred things, he devoted one to consecrations, 
+
+
+another to private, the last to public, sacred rites. In the three which 
+remain, the gods themselves follow this pompous train, as it were, for 
+whom all this culture has been expended. In the first book are the 
+certain gods, in the second the uncertain, in the third, and last of all, the 
+chief and select gods. 
+
+
+4. That from the disputation of Varro, it follows that the worshippers of the gods regard human 
+
+
+things as more ancient than divine things 
+
+
+In this whole series of most beautiful and most subtle distributions and 
+distinctions, it will most easily appear evident from the things we have 
+said already, and from what is to be said hereafter, to any man who is 
+not, in the obstinacy of his heart, an enemy to himself, that it is vain to 
+seek and to hope for, and even most impudent to wish for eternal life. 
+For these institutions are either the work of men or of demons—not of 
+those whom they call good demons, but, to speak more plainly, of 
+unclean, and, without controversy, malign spirits, who with wonderful 
+slyness and secretness suggest to the thoughts of the impious, and 
+sometimes openly present to their understandings, noxious opinions, by 
+which the human mind grows more and more foolish, and becomes 
+unable to adapt itself to and abide in the immutable and eternal truth, 
+and seek to confirm these opinions by every kind of fallacious attestation 
+in their power. This very same Varro testifies that he wrote first 
+concerning human things, but afterwards concerning divine things, 
+because the states existed first, and afterward these things were 
+instituted by them. But the true religion was not instituted by any 
+earthly state, but plainly it established the celestial city. It, however, is 
+inspired and taught by the true God, the giver of eternal life to His true 
+worshippers. 
+
+The following is the reason Varro gives when he confesses that he had 
+written first concerning human things, and afterwards of divine things, 
+because these divine things were instituted by men:—“As the painter is 
+before the painted tablet, the mason before the edifice, so states are 
+before those things which are instituted by states.” But he says that he 
+would have written first concerning the gods, afterwards concerning 
+men, if he had been writing concerning the whole nature of the gods—as 
+if he were really writing concerning some portion of, and not all, the 
+nature of the gods; or as if, indeed, some portion of, though not all, the 
+
+
+nature of the gods ought not to be put before that of men. How, then, 
+comes it that in those last three books, when he is diligently explaining 
+the certain, uncertain, and select gods, he seems to pass over no portion 
+of the nature of the gods? Why, then, does he say, “If we had been 
+writing on the whole nature of the gods, we would first have finished the 
+divine things before we touched the human?” For he either writes 
+concerning the whole nature of the gods, or concerning some portion of 
+it, or concerning no part of it at all. If concerning it all, it is certainly to 
+be put before human things; if concerning some part of it, why should it 
+not, from the very nature of the case, precede human things? Is not even 
+some part of the gods to be preferred to the whole of humanity? But if it 
+is too much to prefer a part of the divine to all human things, that part is 
+certainly worthy to be preferred to the Romans at least. For he writes the 
+books concerning human things, not with reference to the whole world, 
+but only to Rome; which books he says he had properly placed, in the 
+order of writing, before the books on divine things, like a painter before 
+the painted tablet, or a mason before the building, most openly 
+confessing that, as a picture or a structure, even these divine things were 
+instituted by men. There remains only the third supposition, that he is to 
+be understood to have written concerning no divine nature, but that he 
+did not wish to say this openly, but left it to the intelligent to infer; for 
+when one says “not all,” usage understands that to mean “some,” but it 
+may be understood as meaning none, because that which is none is 
+neither all nor some. In fact, as he himself says, if he had been writing 
+concerning all the nature of the gods, its due place would have been 
+before human things in the order of writing. But, as the truth declares, 
+even though Varro is silent, the divine nature should have taken 
+precedence of Roman things, though it were not all, but only some. But it 
+is properly put after, therefore it is none. His arrangement, therefore, was 
+due, not to a desire to give human things priority to divine things, but to 
+his unwillingness to prefer false things to true. For in what he wrote on 
+human things, he followed the history of affairs; but in what he wrote 
+concerning those things which they call divine, what else did he follow 
+but mere conjectures about vain things? This, doubtless, is what, in a 
+subtle manner, he wished to signify; not only writing concerning divine 
+things after the human, but even giving a reason why he did so; for if he 
+had suppressed this, some, perchance, would have defended his doing so 
+
+
+in one way, and some in another. But in that very reason he has 
+rendered, he has left nothing for men to conjecture at will, and has 
+sufficiently proved that he preferred men to the institutions of men, not 
+the nature of men to the nature of the gods. Thus he confessed that, in 
+writing the books concerning divine things, he did not write concerning 
+the truth which belongs to nature, but the falseness which belongs to 
+error; which he has elsewhere expressed more openly (as I have 
+mentioned in the fourth book?), saying that, had he been founding a new 
+city himself, he would have written according to the order of nature; but 
+as he had only found an old one, he could not but follow its custom. 
+
+
+5. Concerning the three kinds of theology according to Varro, namely, one fabulous, the other 
+natural, the third civil 
+
+
+Now what are we to say of this proposition of his, namely, that there 
+are three kinds of theology, that is, of the account which is given of the 
+gods; and of these, the one is called mythical, the other physical, and the 
+third civil? Did the Latin usage permit, we should call the kind which he 
+has placed first in order fabular,!° but let us call it fabulous,1! for 
+mythical is derived from the Greek ðs, a fable; but that the second 
+should be called natural, the usage of speech now admits; the third he 
+himself has designated in Latin, calling it civil.12 Then he says, “they call 
+that kind mythical which the poets chiefly use; physical, that which the 
+philosophers use; civil, that which the people use. As to the first I have 
+mentioned,” says he, “in it are many fictions, which are contrary to the 
+dignity and nature of the immortals. For we find in it that one god has 
+been born from the head, another from the thigh, another from drops of 
+blood; also, in this we find that gods have stolen, committed adultery, 
+served men; in a word, in this all manner of things are attributed to the 
+gods, such as may befall, not merely any man, but even the most 
+contemptible man.” He certainly, where he could, where he dared, 
+where he thought he could do it with impunity, has manifested, without 
+any of the haziness of ambiguity, how great injury was done to the 
+nature of the gods by lying fables; for he was speaking, not concerning 
+natural theology, not concerning civil, but concerning fabulous theology, 
+which he thought he could freely find fault with. 
+
+Let us see, now, what he says concerning the second kind. “The second 
+kind which I have explained,” he says, “is that concerning which 
+
+
+philosophers have left many books, in which they treat such questions as 
+these: what gods there are, where they are, of what kind and character 
+they are, since what time they have existed, or if they have existed from 
+eternity; whether they are of fire, as Heraclitus believes; or of number, 
+as Pythagoras; or of atoms, as Epicurus says; and other such things, 
+which men’s ears can more easily hear inside the walls of a school than 
+outside in the Forum.” He finds fault with nothing in this kind of 
+theology which they call physical, and which belongs to philosophers, 
+except that he has related their controversies among themselves, through 
+which there has arisen a multitude of dissentient sects. Nevertheless he 
+has removed this kind from the Forum, that is, from the populace, but he 
+has shut it up in schools. But that first kind, most false and most base, he 
+has not removed from the citizens. Oh, the religious ears of the people, 
+and among them even those of the Romans, that are not able to bear 
+what the philosophers dispute concerning the gods! But when the poets 
+sing and stage-players act such things as are derogatory to the dignity 
+and the nature of the immortals, such as may befall not a man merely, 
+but the most contemptible man, they not only bear, but willingly listen 
+to. Nor is this all, but they even consider that these things please the 
+gods, and that they are propitiated by them. 
+
+But some one may say, Let us distinguish these two kinds of theology, 
+the mythical and the physical—that is, the fabulous and the natural— 
+from this civil kind about which we are now speaking. Anticipating this, 
+he himself has distinguished them. Let us see now how he explains the 
+civil theology itself. I see, indeed, why it should be distinguished as 
+fabulous, even because it is false, because it is base, because it is 
+unworthy. But to wish to distinguish the natural from the civil, what else 
+is that but to confess that the civil itself is false? For if that be natural, 
+what fault has it that it should be excluded? And if this which is called 
+civil be not natural, what merit has it that it should be admitted? This, 
+in truth, is the cause why he wrote first concerning human things, and 
+afterwards concerning divine things; since in divine things he did not 
+follow nature, but the institution of men. Let us look at this civil 
+theology of his, “The third kind,” says he, “is that which citizens in 
+cities, and especially the priests, ought to know and to administer. From 
+it is to be known what god each one may suitably worship, what sacred 
+rites and sacrifices each one may suitably perform.” Let us still attend to 
+
+
+what follows. “The first theology,” he says, “is especially adapted to the 
+theatre, the second to the world, the third to the city.” Who does not see 
+to which he gives the palm? Certainly to the second, which he said 
+above is that of the philosophers. For he testifies that this pertains to the 
+world, than which they think there is nothing better. But those two 
+theologies, the first and the third—to wit, those of the theatre and of the 
+city—has he distinguished them or united them? For although we see 
+that the city is in the world, we do not see that it follows that any things 
+belonging to the city pertain to the world. For it is possible that such 
+things may be worshipped and believed in the city, according to false 
+opinions, as have no existence either in the world or out of it. But where 
+is the theatre but in the city? Who instituted the theatre but the state? 
+For what purpose did it constitute it but for scenic plays? And to what 
+class of things do scenic plays belong but to those divine things 
+concerning which these books of Varro’s are written with so much 
+ability? 
+
+
+6. Concerning the mythic, that is, the fabulous, theology, and the civil, against Varro 
+
+
+O Marcus Varro! thou art the most acute, and without doubt the most 
+learned, but still a man, not God—now lifted up by the Spirit of God to 
+see and to announce divine things, thou seest, indeed, that divine things 
+are to be separated from human trifles and lies, but thou fearest to 
+offend those most corrupt opinions of the populace, and their customs in 
+public superstitions, which thou thyself, when thou considerest them on 
+all sides, perceivest, and all your literature loudly pronounces to be 
+abhorrent from the nature of the gods, even of such gods as the frailty of 
+the human mind supposes to exist in the elements of this world. What 
+can the most excellent human talent do here? What can human learning, 
+though manifold, avail thee in this perplexity? Thou desirest to worship 
+the natural gods; thou art compelled to worship the civil. Thou hast 
+found some of the gods to be fabulous, on whom thou vomitest forth 
+very freely what thou thinkest, and, whether thou willest or not, thou 
+wettest therewith even the civil gods. Thou sayest, forsooth, that the 
+fabulous are adapted to the theatre, the natural to the world, and the 
+civil to the city; though the world is a divine work, but cities and 
+theatres are the works of men, and though the gods who are laughed at 
+in the theatre are not other than those who are adored in the temples; 
+
+
+and ye do not exhibit games in honour of other gods than those to whom 
+ye immolate victims. How much more freely and more subtly wouldst 
+thou have decided these hadst thou said that some gods are natural, 
+others established by men; and concerning those who have been so 
+established, the literature of the poets gives one account, and that of the 
+priests another—both of which are, nevertheless, so friendly the one to 
+the other, through fellowship in falsehood, that they are both pleasing to 
+the demons, to whom the doctrine of the truth is hostile. 
+
+That theology, therefore, which they call natural, being put aside for a 
+moment, as it is afterwards to be discussed, we ask if any one is really 
+content to seek a hope for eternal life from poetical, theatrical, scenic 
+gods? Perish the thought! The true God avert so wild and sacrilegious a 
+madness! What, is eternal life to be asked from those gods whom these 
+things pleased, and whom these things propitiate, in which their own 
+crimes are represented? No one, as I think, has arrived at such a pitch of 
+headlong and furious impiety. So then, neither by the fabulous nor by 
+the civil theology does any one obtain eternal life. For the one sows base 
+things concerning the gods by feigning them, the other reaps by 
+cherishing them; the one scatters lies, the other gathers them together; 
+the one pursues divine things with false crimes, the other incorporates 
+among divine things the plays which are made up of these crimes; the 
+one sounds abroad in human songs impious fictions concerning the gods, 
+the other consecrates these for the festivities of the gods themselves; the 
+one sings the misdeeds and crimes of the gods, the other loves them; the 
+one gives forth or feigns, the other either attests the true or delights in 
+the false. Both are base; both are damnable. But the one which is 
+theatrical teaches public abomination, and that one which is of the city 
+adorns itself with that abomination. Shall eternal life be hoped for from 
+these, by which this short and temporal life is polluted? Does the society 
+of wicked men pollute our life if they insinuate themselves into our 
+affections, and win our assent? and does not the society of demons 
+pollute the life, who are worshipped with their own crimes?—if with 
+true crimes, how wicked the demons! if with false, how wicked the 
+worship! 
+
+When we say these things, it may perchance seem to some one who is 
+very ignorant of these matters that only those things concerning the gods 
+which are sung in the songs of the poets and acted on the stage are 
+
+
+unworthy of the divine majesty, and ridiculous, and too detestable to be 
+celebrated, whilst those sacred things which not stage-players but priests 
+perform are pure and free from all unseemliness. Had this been so, never 
+would any one have thought that these theatrical abominations should 
+be celebrated in their honour, never would the gods themselves have 
+ordered them to be performed to them. But men are in nowise ashamed 
+to perform these things in the theatres, because similar things are carried 
+on in the temples. In short, when the fore-mentioned author attempted 
+to distinguish the civil theology from the fabulous and natural, as a sort 
+of third and distinct kind, he wished it to be understood to be rather 
+tempered by both than separated from either. For he says that those 
+things which the poets write are less than the people ought to follow, 
+whilst what the philosophers say is more than it is expedient for the 
+people to pry into. “Which,” says he, “differ in such a way, that 
+nevertheless not a few things from both of them have been taken to the 
+account of the civil theology; wherefore we will indicate what the civil 
+theology has in common with that of the poet, though it ought to be 
+more closely connected with the theology of philosophers.” Civil 
+theology is therefore not quite disconnected from that of the poets. 
+Nevertheless, in another place, concerning the generations of the gods, 
+he says that the people are more inclined toward the poets than toward 
+the physical theologists. For in this place he said what ought to be done; 
+in that other place, what was really done. He said that the latter had 
+written for the sake of utility, but the poets for the sake of amusement. 
+And hence the things from the poets’ writings, which the people ought 
+not to follow, are the crimes of the gods; which, nevertheless, amuse 
+both the people and the gods. For, for amusement’s sake, he says, the 
+poets write, and not for that of utility; nevertheless they write such 
+things as the gods will desire, and the people perform. 
+
+
+7. Concerning the likeness and agreement of the fabulous and civil theologies 
+
+
+That theology, therefore, which is fabulous, theatrical, scenic, and full 
+of all baseness and unseemliness, is taken up into the civil theology; and 
+part of that theology, which in its totality is deservedly judged to be 
+worthy of reprobation and rejection, is pronounced worthy to be 
+cultivated and observed;—not at all an incongruous part, as I have 
+undertaken to show, and one which, being alien to the whole body, was 
+
+
+unsuitably attached to and suspended from it, but a part entirely 
+congruous with, and most harmoniously fitted to the rest, as a member 
+of the same body. For what else do those images, forms, ages, sexes, 
+characteristics of the gods show? If the poets have Jupiter with a beard, 
+and Mercury beardless, have not the priests the same? Is the Priapus of 
+the priests less obscene than the Priapus of the players? Does he receive 
+the adoration of worshippers in a different form from that in which he 
+moves about the stage for the amusement of spectators? Is not Saturn old 
+and Apollo young in the shrines where their images stand, as well as 
+when represented by actors’ masks? Why are Forculus, who presides 
+over doors, and Limentinus, who presides over thresholds and lintels, 
+male gods, and Cardea between them feminine, who presides over 
+hinges? Are not those things found in books on divine things, which 
+grave poets have deemed unworthy of their verses? Does the Diana of 
+the theatre carry arms, whilst the Diana of the city is simply a virgin? Is 
+the stage Apollo a lyrist, but the Delphic Apollo ignorant of this art? But 
+these things are decent compared with the more shameful things. What 
+was thought of Jupiter himself by those who placed his wet nurse in the 
+Capitol? Did they not bear witness to Euhemerus, who, not with the 
+garrulity of a fable-teller, but with the gravity of an historian who had 
+diligently investigated the matter, wrote that all such gods had been men 
+and mortals? And they who appointed the Epulones as parasites at the 
+table of Jupiter, what else did they wish for but mimic sacred rites? For 
+if any mimic had said that parasites of Jupiter were made use of at his 
+table, he would assuredly have appeared to be seeking to call forth 
+laughter. Varro said it—not when he was mocking, but when he was 
+commending the gods did he say it. His books on divine, not on human, 
+things testify that he wrote this—not where he set forth the scenic 
+games, but where he explained the Capitoline laws. In a word, he is 
+conquered, and confesses that, as they made the gods with a human 
+form, so they believed that they are delighted with human pleasures. 
+
+For also malign spirits were not so wanting to their own business as 
+not to confirm noxious opinions in the minds of men by converting them 
+into sport. Whence also is that story about the sacristan of Hercules, 
+which says that, having nothing to do, he took to playing at dice as a 
+pastime, throwing them alternately with the one hand for Hercules, with 
+the other for himself, with this understanding, that if he should win, he 
+
+
+should from the funds of the temple prepare himself a supper, and hire a 
+mistress; but if Hercules should win the game, he himself should, at his 
+own expense, provide the same for the pleasure of Hercules. Then, when 
+he had been beaten by himself, as though by Hercules, he gave to the 
+god Hercules the supper he owed him, and also the most noble harlot 
+Larentina. But she, having fallen asleep in the temple, dreamed that 
+Hercules had had intercourse with her, and had said to her that she 
+would find her payment with the youth whom she should first meet on 
+leaving the temple, and that she was to believe this to be paid to her by 
+Hercules. And so the first youth that met her on going, out was the 
+wealthy Tarutius, who kept her a long time, and when he died left her 
+his heir. She, having obtained a most ample fortune, that she should not 
+seem ungrateful for the divine hire, in her turn made the Roman people 
+her heir, which she thought to be most acceptable to the deities; and, 
+having disappeared, the will was found. By which meritorious conduct 
+they say that she gained divine honours. 
+
+Now had these things been feigned by the poets and acted by the 
+mimics, they would without any doubt have been said to pertain to the 
+fabulous theology, and would have been judged worthy to be separated 
+from the dignity of the civil theology. But when these shameful things— 
+not of the poets, but of the people; not of the mimics, but of the sacred 
+things; not of the theatres, but of the temples, that is, not of the 
+fabulous, but of the civil theology—are reported by so great an author, 
+not in vain do the actors represent with theatrical art the baseness of the 
+gods, which is so great; but surely in vain do the priests attempt, by rites 
+called sacred, to represent their nobleness of character, which has no 
+existence. There are sacred rites of Juno; and these are celebrated in her 
+beloved island, Samos, where she was given in marriage to Jupiter. 
+There are sacred rites of Ceres, in which Proserpine is sought for, having 
+been carried off by Pluto. There are sacred rites of Venus, in which, her 
+beloved Adonis being slain by a boar’s tooth, the lovely youth is 
+lamented. There are sacred rites of the mother of the gods, in which the 
+beautiful youth Atys, loved by her, and castrated by her through a 
+woman’s jealousy, is deplored by men who have suffered the like 
+calamity, whom they call Galli. Since, then, these things are more 
+unseemly than all scenic abomination, why is it that they strive to 
+separate, as it were, the fabulous fictions of the poet concerning the 
+
+
+gods, as, forsooth, pertaining to the theatre, from the civil theology 
+which they wish to belong to the city, as though they were separating 
+from noble and worthy things, things unworthy and base? Wherefore 
+there is more reason to thank the stage-actors, who have spared the eyes 
+of men, and have not laid bare by theatrical exhibition all the things 
+which are hid by the walls of the temples. What good is to be thought of 
+their sacred rites which are concealed in darkness, when those which are 
+brought forth into the light are so detestable? And certainly they 
+themselves have seen what they transact in secret through the agency of 
+mutilated and effeminate men. Yet they have not been able to conceal 
+those same men miserably and vilely enervated and corrupted. Let them 
+persuade whom they can that they transact anything holy through such 
+men, who, they cannot deny, are numbered, and live among their sacred 
+things. We know not what they transact, but we know through whom 
+they transact; for we know what things are transacted on the stage, 
+where never, even in a chorus of harlots, hath one who is mutilated or 
+an effeminate appeared. And, nevertheless, even these things are acted 
+by vile and infamous characters; for, indeed, they ought not to be acted 
+by men of good character. What, then, are those sacred rites, for the 
+performance of which holiness has chosen such men as not even the 
+obscenity of the stage has admitted? 
+
+
+8. Concerning the interpretations, consisting of natural explanations, which the pagan teachers 
+
+
+attempt to show for their gods 
+
+
+But all these things, they say, have certain physical, that is, natural 
+interpretations, showing their natural meaning; as though in this 
+disputation we were seeking physics and not theology, which is the 
+account, not of nature, but of God. For although He who is the true God 
+is God, not by opinion, but by nature, nevertheless all nature is not God; 
+for there is certainly a nature of man, of a beast, of a tree, of a stone— 
+none of which is God. For if, when the question is concerning the mother 
+of the gods, that from which the whole system of interpretation starts 
+certainly is, that the mother of the gods is the earth, why do we make 
+further inquiry? why do we carry our investigation through all the rest 
+of it? What can more manifestly favour them who say that all those gods 
+were men? For they are earth-born in the sense that the earth is their 
+mother. But in the true theology the earth is the work, not the mother, 
+
+
+of God. But in whatever way their sacred rites may be interpreted, and 
+whatever reference they may have to the nature of things, it is not 
+according to nature, but contrary to nature, that men should be 
+effeminates. This disease, this crime, this abomination, has a recognised 
+place among those sacred things, though even depraved men will 
+scarcely be compelled by torments to confess they are guilty of it. Again, 
+if these sacred rites, which are proved to be fouler than scenic 
+abominations, are excused and justified on the ground that they have 
+their own interpretations, by which they are shown to symbolize the 
+nature of things, why are not the poetical things in like manner excused 
+and justified? For many have interpreted even these in like fashion, to 
+such a degree that even that which they say is the most monstrous and 
+most horrible—namely, that Saturn devoured his own children—has 
+been interpreted by some of them to mean that length of time, which is 
+signified by the name of Saturn, consumes whatever it begets; or that, as 
+the same Varro thinks, Saturn belongs to seeds which fall back again 
+into the earth from whence they spring. And so one interprets it in one 
+way, and one in another. And the same is to be said of all the rest of this 
+theology. 
+
+And, nevertheless, it is called the fabulous theology, and is censured, 
+cast off, rejected, together with all such interpretations belonging to it. 
+And not only by the natural theology, which is that of the philosophers, 
+but also by this civil theology, concerning which we are speaking, which 
+is asserted to pertain to cities and peoples, it is judged worthy of 
+repudiation, because it has invented unworthy things concerning the 
+gods. Of which, I wot, this is the secret: that those most acute and 
+learned men, by whom those things were written, understood that both 
+theologies ought to be rejected—to wit, both that fabulous and this civil 
+one—but the former they dared to reject, the latter they dared not; the 
+former they set forth to be censured, the latter they showed to be very 
+like it; not that it might be chosen to be held in preference to the other, 
+but that it might be understood to be worthy of being rejected together 
+with it. And thus, without danger to those who feared to censure the 
+civil theology, both of them being brought into contempt, that theology 
+which they call natural might find a place in better disposed minds; for 
+the civil and the fabulous are both fabulous and both civil. He who shall 
+wisely inspect the vanities and obscenities of both will find that they are 
+
+
+both fabulous; and he who shall direct his attention to the scenic plays 
+pertaining to the fabulous theology in the festivals of the civil gods, and 
+in the divine rites of the cities, will find they are both civil. How, then, 
+can the power of giving eternal life be attributed to any of those gods 
+whose own images and sacred rites convict them of being most like to 
+the fabulous gods, which are most openly reprobated, in forms, ages, 
+sex, characteristics, marriages, generations, rites; in all which things they 
+are understood either to have been men, and to have had their sacred 
+rites and solemnities instituted in their honour according to the life or 
+death of each of them, the demons suggesting and confirming this error, 
+or certainly most foul spirits, who, taking advantage of some occasion or 
+other, have stolen into the minds of men to deceive them? 
+
+
+9. Concerning the special offices of the gods 
+
+
+And as to those very offices of the gods, so meanly and so minutely 
+portioned out, so that they say that they ought to be supplicated, each 
+one according to his special function—about which we have spoken 
+much already, though not all that is to be said concerning it—are they 
+not more consistent with mimic buffoonery than divine majesty? If any 
+one should use two nurses for his infant, one of whom should give 
+nothing but food, the other nothing but drink, as these make use of two 
+goddesses for this purpose, Educa and Potina, he should certainly seem 
+to be foolish, and to do in his house a thing worthy of a mimic. They 
+would have Liber to have been named from “liberation,” because 
+through him males at the time of copulation are liberated by the 
+emission of the seed. They also say that Libera (the same in their opinion 
+as Venus) exercises the same function in the case of women, because 
+they say that they also emit seed; and they also say that on this account 
+the same part of the male and of the female is placed in the temple, that 
+of the male to Liber, and that of the female to Libera. To these things 
+they add the women assigned to Liber, and the wine for exciting lust. 
+Thus the Bacchanalia are celebrated with the utmost insanity, with 
+respect to which Varro himself confesses that such things would not be 
+done by the Bacchanals except their minds were highly excited. These 
+things, however, afterwards displeased a saner senate, and it ordered 
+them to be discontinued. Here, at length, they perhaps perceived how 
+much power unclean spirits, when held to be gods, exercise over the 
+
+
+minds of men. These things, certainly, were not to be done in the 
+theatres; for there they play, not rave, although to have gods who are 
+delighted with such plays is very like raving. 
+
+But what kind of distinction is this which he makes between the 
+religious and the superstitious man, saying that the gods are feared!3 by 
+the superstitious man, but are reverenced!‘ as parents by the religious 
+man, not feared as enemies; and that they are all so good that they will 
+more readily spare those who are impious than hurt one who is 
+innocent? And yet he tells us that three gods are assigned as guardians to 
+a woman after she has been delivered, lest the god Silvanus come in and 
+molest her; and that in order to signify the presence of these protectors, 
+three men go round the house during the night, and first strike the 
+threshold with a hatchet, next with a pestle, and the third time sweep it 
+with a brush, in order that these symbols of agriculture having been 
+exhibited, the god Silvanus might be hindered from entering, because 
+neither are trees cut down or pruned without a hatchet, neither is grain 
+ground without a pestle, nor corn heaped up without a besom. Now from 
+these three things three gods have been named: Intercidona, from the 
+cutl5 made by the hatchet; Pilumnus, from the pestle; Diverra, from the 
+besom;—by which guardian gods the woman who has been delivered is 
+preserved against the power of the god Silvanus. Thus the guardianship 
+of kindly-disposed gods would not avail against the malice of a 
+mischievous god, unless they were three to one, and fought against him, 
+as it were, with the opposing emblems of cultivation, who, being an 
+inhabitant of the woods, is rough, horrible, and uncultivated. Is this the 
+innocence of the gods? Is this their concord? Are these the health-giving 
+deities of the cities, more ridiculous than the things which are laughed at 
+in the theatres? 
+
+When a male and a female are united, the god Jugatinus presides. 
+Well, let this be borne with. But the married woman must be brought 
+home: the god Domiducus also is invoked. That she may be in the house, 
+the god Domitius is introduced. That she may remain with her husband, 
+the goddess Manturnæ is used. What more is required? Let human 
+modesty be spared. Let the lust of flesh and blood go on with the rest, 
+the secret of shame being respected. Why is the bed-chamber filled with 
+a crowd of deities, when even the groomsmen!® have departed? And, 
+moreover, it is so filled, not that in consideration of their presence more 
+
+
+regard may be paid to chastity, but that by their help the woman, 
+naturally of the weaker sex, and trembling with the novelty of her 
+situation, may the more readily yield her virginity. For there are the 
+goddess Virginiensis, and the god-father Subigus, and the goddess- 
+mother Prema, and the goddess Pertunda, and Venus, and Priapus.!7 
+What is this? If it was absolutely necessary that a man, labouring at this 
+work, should be helped by the gods, might not some one god or goddess 
+have been sufficient? Was Venus not sufficient alone, who is even said to 
+be named from this, that without her power a woman does not cease to 
+be a virgin? If there is any shame in men, which is not in the deities, is it 
+not the case that, when the married couple believe that so many gods of 
+either sex are present, and busy at this work, they are so much affected 
+with shame, that the man is less moved, and the woman more reluctant? 
+And certainly, if the goddess Virginiensis is present to loose the virgin’s 
+zone, if the god Subigus is present that the virgin may be got under the 
+man, if the goddess Prema is present that, having been got under him, 
+she may be kept down, and may not move herself, what has the goddess 
+Pertunda to do there? Let her blush; let her go forth. Let the husband 
+himself do something. It is disgraceful that any one but himself should 
+do that from which she gets her name. But perhaps she is tolerated 
+because she is said to be a goddess, and not a god. For if she were 
+believed to be a male, and were called Pertundus, the husband would 
+demand more help against him for the chastity of his wife than the 
+newly-delivered woman against Silvanus. But why am I saying this, 
+when Priapus, too, is there, a male to excess, upon whose immense and 
+most unsightly member the newly-married bride is commanded to sit, 
+according to the most honourable and most religious custom of matrons? 
+
+Let them go on, and let them attempt with all the subtlety they can to 
+distinguish the civil theology from the fabulous, the cities from the 
+theatres, the temples from the stages, the sacred things of the priests 
+from the songs of the poets, as honourable things from base things, 
+truthful things from fallacious, grave from light, serious from ludicrous, 
+desirable things from things to be rejected, we understand what they do. 
+They are aware that that theatrical and fabulous theology hangs by the 
+civil, and is reflected back upon it from the songs of the poets as from a 
+mirror; and thus, that theology having been exposed to view which they 
+do not dare to condemn, they more freely assail and censure that picture 
+
+
+of it, in order that those who perceive what they mean may detest this 
+very face itself of which that is the picture—which, however, the gods 
+themselves, as though seeing themselves in the same mirror, love so 
+much, that it is better seen in both of them who and what they are. 
+Whence, also, they have compelled their worshippers, with terrible 
+commands, to dedicate to them the uncleanness of the fabulous 
+theology, to put them among their solemnities, and reckon them among 
+divine things; and thus they have both shown themselves more 
+manifestly to be most impure spirits, and have made that rejected and 
+reprobated theatrical theology a member and a part of this, as it were, 
+chosen and approved theology of the city, so that, though the whole is 
+disgraceful and false, and contains in it fictitious gods, one part of it is in 
+the literature of the priests, the other in the songs of the poets. Whether 
+it may have other parts is another question. At present, I think, I have 
+sufficiently shown, on account of the division of Varro, that the theology 
+of the city and that of the theatre belong to one civil theology. 
+Wherefore, because they are both equally disgraceful, absurd, shameful, 
+false, far be it from religious men to hope for eternal life from either the 
+one or the other. 
+
+In fine, even Varro himself, in his account and enumeration of the 
+gods, starts from the moment of a man’s conception. He commences the 
+series of those gods who take charge of man with Janus, carries it on to 
+the death of the man decrepit with age, and terminates it with the 
+goddess Nenia, who is sung at the funerals of the aged. After that, he 
+begins to give an account of the other gods, whose province is not man 
+himself, but man’s belongings, as food, clothing, and all that is necessary 
+for this life; and, in the case of all these, he explains what is the special 
+office of each, and for what each ought to be supplicated. But with all 
+this scrupulous and comprehensive diligence, he has neither proved the 
+existence, nor so much as mentioned the name, of any god from whom 
+eternal life is to be sought—the one object for which we are Christians. 
+Who, then, is so stupid as not to perceive that this man, by setting forth 
+and opening up so diligently the civil theology, and by exhibiting its 
+likeness to that fabulous, shameful, and disgraceful theology, and also by 
+teaching that that fabulous sort is also a part of this other, was labouring 
+to obtain a place in the minds of men for none but that natural theology 
+which he says pertains to philosophers, with such subtlety that he 
+
+
+censures the fabulous, and, not daring openly to censure the civil, shows 
+its censurable character by simply exhibiting it; and thus, both being 
+reprobated by the judgment of men of right understanding, the natural 
+alone remains to be chosen? But concerning this in its own place, by the 
+help of the true God, we have to discuss more diligently. 
+
+
+10. Concerning the liberty of Seneca, who more vehemently censured the civil theology than 
+Varro did the fabulous 
+
+
+That liberty, in truth, which this man wanted, so that he did not dare 
+to censure that theology of the city, which is very similar to the 
+theatrical, so openly as he did the theatrical itself, was, though not fully, 
+yet in part possessed by Annzus Seneca, whom we have some evidence 
+to show to have flourished in the times of our apostles. It was in part 
+possessed by him, I say, for he possessed it in writing, but not in living. 
+For in that book which he wrote against superstition,!8 he more 
+copiously and vehemently censured that civil and urban theology than 
+Varro the theatrical and fabulous. For, when speaking concerning 
+images, he says, “They dedicate images of the sacred and inviolable 
+immortals in most worthless and motionless matter. They give them the 
+appearance of man, beasts, and fishes, and some make them of mixed 
+sex, and heterogeneous bodies. They call them deities, when they are 
+such that if they should get breath and should suddenly meet them, they 
+would be held to be monsters.” Then, a while afterwards, when extolling 
+the natural theology, he had expounded the sentiments of certain 
+philosophers, he opposes to himself a question, and says, “Here some 
+one says, Shall I believe that the heavens and the earth are gods, and 
+that some are above the moon and some below it? Shall I bring forward 
+either Plato or the peripatetic Strato, one of whom made God to be 
+without a body, the other without a mind?” In answer to which he says, 
+“And, really, what truer do the dreams of Titus Tatius, or Romulus, or 
+Tullus Hostilius appear to thee? Tatius declared the divinity of the 
+goddess Cloacina; Romulus that of Picus and Tiberinus; Tullus Hostilius 
+that of Pavor and Pallor, the most disagreeable affections of men, the 
+one of which is the agitation of the mind under fright, the other that of 
+the body, not a disease, indeed, but a change of colour.” Wilt thou rather 
+believe that these are deities, and receive them into heaven? But with 
+what freedom he has written concerning the rites themselves, cruel and 
+
+
+shameful! “One,” he says, “castrates himself, another cuts his arms. 
+Where will they find room for the fear of these gods when angry, who 
+use such means of gaining their favour when propitious? But gods who 
+wish to be worshipped in this fashion should be worshipped in none. So 
+great is the frenzy of the mind when perturbed and driven from its seat, 
+that the gods are propitiated by men in a manner in which not even men 
+of the greatest ferocity and fable-renowned cruelty vent their rage. 
+Tyrants have lacerated the limbs of some; they never ordered any one to 
+lacerate his own. For the gratification of royal lust, some have been 
+castrated; but no one ever, by the command of his lord, laid violent 
+hands on himself to emasculate himself. They kill themselves in the 
+temples. They supplicate with their wounds and with their blood. If any 
+one has time to see the things they do and the things they suffer, he will 
+find so many things unseemly for men of respectability, so unworthy of 
+freemen, so unlike the doings of sane men, that no one would doubt that 
+they are mad, had they been mad with the minority; but now the 
+multitude of the insane is the defence of their sanity.” 
+
+He next relates those things which are wont to be done in the Capitol, 
+and with the utmost intrepidity insists that they are such things as one 
+could only believe to be done by men making sport, or by madmen. For, 
+having spoken with derision of this, that in the Egyptian sacred rites 
+Osiris, being lost, is lamented for, but straightway, when found, is the 
+occasion of great joy by his reappearance, because both the losing and 
+the finding of him are feigned; and yet that grief and that joy which are 
+elicited thereby from those who have lost nothing and found nothing are 
+real;—having, I say, so spoken of this, he says, “Still there is a fixed time 
+for this frenzy. It is tolerable to go mad once in the year. Go into the 
+Capitol. One is suggesting divine commands!9 to a god; another is telling 
+the hours to Jupiter; one is a lictor; another is an anointer, who with the 
+mere movement of his arms imitates one anointing. There are women 
+who arrange the hair of Juno and Minerva, standing far away not only 
+from her image, but even from her temple. These move their fingers in 
+the manner of hair-dressers. There are some women who hold a mirror. 
+There are some who are calling the gods to assist them in court. There 
+are some who are holding up documents to them, and are explaining to 
+them their cases. A learned and distinguished comedian, now old and 
+decrepit, was daily playing the mimic in the Capitol, as though the gods 
+
+
+would gladly be spectators of that which men had ceased to care about. 
+Every kind of artificers working for the immortal gods is dwelling there 
+in idleness.” And a little after he says, “Nevertheless these, though they 
+give themselves up to the gods for purposes superfluous enough, do not 
+do so for any abominable or infamous purpose. There sit certain women 
+in the Capitol who think they are beloved by Jupiter; nor are they 
+frightened even by the look of the, if you will believe the poets, most 
+wrathful Juno.” 
+
+This liberty Varro did not enjoy. It was only the poetical theology he 
+seemed to censure. The civil, which this man cuts to pieces, he was not 
+bold enough to impugn. But if we attend to the truth, the temples where 
+these things are performed are far worse than the theatres where they 
+are represented. Whence, with respect to these sacred rites of the civil 
+theology, Seneca preferred, as the best course to be followed by a wise 
+man, to feign respect for them in act, but to have no real regard for them 
+at heart. “All which things,” he says, “a wise man will observe as being 
+commanded by the laws, but not as being pleasing to the gods.” And a 
+little after he says, “And what of this, that we unite the gods in marriage, 
+and that not even naturally, for we join brothers and sisters? We marry 
+Bellona to Mars, Venus to Vulcan, Salacia to Neptune. Some of them we 
+leave unmarried, as though there were no match for them, which is 
+surely needless, especially when there are certain unmarried goddesses, 
+as Populonia, or Fulgora, or the goddess Rumina, for whom I am not 
+astonished that suitors have been awanting. All this ignoble crowd of 
+gods, which the superstition of ages has amassed, we ought,” he says, “to 
+adore in such a way as to remember all the while that its worship 
+belongs rather to custom than to reality.” Wherefore, neither those laws 
+nor customs instituted in the civil theology that which was pleasing to 
+the gods, or which pertained to reality. But this man, whom philosophy 
+had made, as it were, free, nevertheless, because he was an illustrious 
+senator of the Roman people, worshipped what he censured, did what he 
+condemned, adored what he reproached, because, forsooth, philosophy 
+had taught him something great—namely, not to be superstitious in the 
+world, but, on account of the laws of cities and the customs of men, to 
+be an actor, not on the stage, but in the temples—conduct the more to 
+be condemned, that those things which he was deceitfully acting he so 
+acted that the people thought he was acting sincerely. But a stage-actor 
+
+
+would rather delight people by acting plays than take them in by false 
+pretences. 
+
+
+11. What Seneca thought concerning the Jews 
+
+
+Seneca, among the other superstitions of civil theology, also found 
+fault with the sacred things of the Jews, and especially the sabbaths, 
+affirming that they act uselessly in keeping those seventh days, whereby 
+they lose through idleness about the seventh part of their life, and also 
+many things which demand immediate attention are damaged. The 
+Christians, however, who were already most hostile to the Jews, he did 
+not dare to mention, either for praise or blame, lest, if he praised them, 
+he should do so against the ancient custom of his country, or, perhaps, if 
+he should blame them, he should do so against his own will. 
+
+When he was speaking concerning those Jews, he said, “When, 
+meanwhile, the customs of that most accursed nation have gained such 
+strength that they have been now received in all lands, the conquered 
+have given laws to the conquerors.” By these words he expresses his 
+astonishment; and, not knowing what the providence of God was leading 
+him to say, subjoins in plain words an opinion by which he showed what 
+he thought about the meaning of those sacred institutions: “For,” he 
+says, “those, however, know the cause of their rites, whilst the greater 
+part of the people know not why they perform theirs.” But concerning 
+the solemnities of the Jews, either why or how far they were instituted 
+by divine authority, and afterwards, in due time, by the same authority 
+taken away from the people of God, to whom the mystery of eternal life 
+was revealed, we have both spoken elsewhere, especially when we were 
+treating against the Manicheans, and also intend to speak in this work in 
+a more suitable place. 
+
+
+12. That when once the vanity of the gods of the nations has been exposed, it cannot be doubted 
+that they are unable to bestow eternal life on any one, when they cannot afford help even with 
+
+
+respect to the things of this temporal life 
+
+
+Now, since there are three theologies, which the Greeks call 
+respectively mythical, physical, and political, and which may be called 
+in Latin fabulous, natural, and civil; and since neither from the fabulous, 
+which even the worshippers of many and false gods have themselves 
+most freely censured, nor from the civil, of which that is convicted of 
+
+
+being a part, or even worse than it, can eternal life be hoped for from 
+any of these theologies—if any one thinks that what has been said in this 
+book is not enough for him, let him also add to it the many and various 
+dissertations concerning God as the giver of felicity, contained in the 
+former books, especially the fourth one. 
+
+For to what but to felicity should men consecrate themselves, were 
+felicity a goddess? However, as it is not a goddess, but a gift of God, to 
+what God but the giver of happiness ought we to consecrate ourselves, 
+who piously love eternal life, in which there is true and full felicity? But 
+I think, from what has been said, no one ought to doubt that none of 
+these gods is the giver of happiness, who are worshipped with such 
+shame, and who, if they are not so worshipped, are more shamefully 
+enraged, and thus confess that they are most foul spirits. Moreover, how 
+can he give eternal life who cannot give happiness? For we mean by 
+eternal life that life where there is endless happiness. For if the soul live 
+in eternal punishments, by which also those unclean spirits shall be 
+tormented, that is rather eternal death than eternal life. For there is no 
+greater or worse death than when death never dies. But because the soul 
+from its very nature, being created immortal, cannot be without some 
+kind of life, its utmost death is alienation from the life of God in an 
+eternity of punishment. So, then, He only who gives true happiness gives 
+eternal life, that is, an endlessly happy life. And since those gods whom 
+this civil theology worships have been proved to be unable to give this 
+happiness, they ought not to be worshipped on account of those 
+temporal and terrestrial things, as we showed in the five former books, 
+much less on account of eternal life, which is to be after death, as we 
+have sought to show in this one book especially, whilst the other books 
+also lend it their co-operation. But since the strength of inveterate habit 
+has its roots very deep, if any one thinks that I have not disputed 
+sufficiently to show that this civil theology ought to be rejected and 
+shunned, let him attend to another book which, with God’s help, is to be 
+joined to this one. 
+
+
+1 Ps. xl. 4. 
+2 Plato, in the Timæus. 
+3 Ch. xi. and xxi. 
+
+
+4 See Virgil, Ec. iii. 9. 
+
+
+° Of the four books De Acad., dedicated to Varro, only a part of the first is extant. 
+6 Cicero, De Quest. Acad. i. 3. 
+7 In his book De Metris, chapter on phalecian verses. 
+
+
+8 Tarquin the Proud, having bought the books of the sibyl, appointed two men to preserve and 
+interpret them (Dionys. Halic. Antiq. iv. 62). These were afterwards increased to ten, while the 
+
+
+plebeians were contending for larger privileges; and subsequently five more were added. 
+9 Ch. 31. 
+
+10Fabulare. 
+
+11Fabulosum. 
+
+12Civile. 
+
+13Timeri. 
+
+l4Vereri. 
+
+15Intercido, I cut or cleave 
+
+16Paranymphi. 
+
+17 Comp. Tertullian, Adv. Nat. ii. 11; Arnobius, Contra Gent. iv.; Lactantius, Inst. i. 20. 
+18 Mentioned also by Tertullian, Apol. 12, but not extant. 
+
+
+19Numina. Another reading is nomina; and with either reading another translation is admissible: 
+
+
+“One is announcing to a god the names (or gods) who salute him.” 
+
+
+BOOK SEVENTH 
+
+
+ARGUMENT 
+
+
+IN THIS BOOK IT IS SHOWN THAT ETERNAL LIFE IS NOT OBTAINED BY THE WORSHIP OF JANUS, JUPITER, 
+
+
+SATURN, AND THE OTHER “SELECT GODS” OF THE CIVIL THEOLOGY. 
+
+
+PREFACE 
+
+
+L' will be the duty of those who are endowed with quicker and better 
+understandings, in whose case the former books are sufficient, and 
+more than sufficient, to effect their intended object, to bear with me 
+with patience and equanimity whilst I attempt with more than ordinary 
+diligence to tear up and eradicate depraved and ancient opinions hostile 
+to the truth of piety, which the long-continued error of the human race 
+has fixed very deeply in unenlightened minds; co-operating also in this, 
+according to my little measure, with the grace of Him who, being the 
+true God, is able to accomplish it, and on whose help I depend in my 
+work; and, for the sake of others, such should not deem superfluous 
+what they feel to be no longer necessary for themselves. A very great 
+matter is at stake when the true and truly holy divinity is commended to 
+men as that which they ought to seek after and to worship; not, 
+however, on account of the transitory vapour of mortal life, but on 
+account of life eternal, which alone is blessed, although the help 
+necessary for this frail life we are now living is also afforded us by it. 
+
+
+1. Whether, since it is evident that Deity is not to be found in the civil theology, we are to believe 
+that it is to be found in the select gods 
+
+
+If there is any one whom the sixth book, which I have last finished, 
+has not persuaded that this divinity, or, so to speak, deity—for this word 
+also our authors do not hesitate to use, in order to translate more 
+accurately that which the Greeks call %é6t¢;—if there is any one, I say, 
+whom the sixth book has not persuaded that this divinity or deity is not 
+to be found in that theology which they call civil, and which Marcus 
+
+
+Varro has explained in sixteen books—that is, that the happiness of 
+eternal life is not attainable through the worship of gods such as states 
+have established to be worshipped, and that in such a form—perhaps, 
+when he has read this book, he will not have anything further to desire 
+in order to the clearing up of this question. For it is possible that some 
+one may think that at least the select and chief gods, whom Varro 
+comprised in his last book, and of whom we have not spoken 
+sufficiently, are to be worshipped on account of the blessed life, which is 
+none other than eternal. In respect to which matter I do not say what 
+Tertullian said, perhaps more wittily than truly, “If gods are selected like 
+onions, certainly the rest are rejected as bad.”! I do not say this, for I see 
+that even from among the select, some are selected for some greater and 
+more excellent office: as in warfare, when recruits have been elected, 
+there are some again elected from among those for the performance of 
+some greater military service; and in the church, when persons are 
+elected to be overseers, certainly the rest are not rejected, since all good 
+Christians are deservedly called elect; in the erection of a building 
+corner stones are elected, though the other stones, which are destined 
+for other parts of the structure, are not rejected; grapes are elected for 
+eating, whilst the others, which we leave for drinking, are not rejected. 
+There is no need of adducing many illustrations, since the thing is 
+evident. Wherefore the selection of certain gods from among many 
+affords no proper reason why either he who wrote on this subject, or the 
+worshippers of the gods, or the gods themselves, should be spurned. We 
+ought rather to seek to know what gods these are, and for what purpose 
+they may appear to have been selected. 
+
+
+2. Who are the select gods, and whether they are held to be exempt from the offices of the 
+
+
+commoner gods 
+
+
+The following gods, certainly, Varro signalizes as select, devoting one 
+book to this subject: Janus, Jupiter, Saturn, Genius, Mercury, Apollo, 
+Mars, Vulcan, Neptune, Sol, Orcus, father Liber, Tellus, Ceres, Juno, 
+Luna, Diana, Minerva, Venus, Vesta; of which twenty gods, twelve are 
+males, and eight females. Whether are these deities called select, because 
+of their higher spheres of administration in the world, or because they 
+have become better known to the people, and more worship has been 
+expended on them? If it be on account of the greater works which are 
+
+
+performed by them in the world, we ought not to have found them 
+among that, as it were, plebeian crowd of deities, which has assigned to 
+it the charge of minute and trifling things. For, first of all, at the 
+conception of a foetus, from which point all the works commence which 
+have been distributed in minute detail to many deities, Janus himself 
+opens the way for the reception of the seed; there also is Saturn, on 
+account of the seed itself; there is Liber,2 who liberates the male by the 
+effusion of the seed; there is Libera, whom they also would have to be 
+Venus, who confers this same benefit on the woman, namely, that she 
+also be liberated by the emission of the seed;—all these are of the 
+number of those who are called select. But there is also the goddess 
+Mena, who presides over the menses; though the daughter of Jupiter, 
+ignoble nevertheless. And this province of the menses the same author, 
+in his book on the select gods, assigns to Juno herself, who is even queen 
+among the select gods; and here, as Juno Lucina, along with the same 
+Mena, her stepdaughter, she presides over the same blood. There also 
+are two gods, exceedingly obscure, Vitumnus and Sentinus—the one of 
+whom imparts life to the foetus, and the other sensation; and, of a truth, 
+they bestow, most ignoble though they be, far more than all those noble 
+and select gods bestow. For, surely, without life and sensation, what is 
+the whole foetus which a woman carries in her womb, but a most vile 
+and worthless thing, no better than slime and dust? 
+
+
+3. How there is no reason which can be shown for the selection of certain gods, when the 
+
+
+administration of more exalted offices is assigned to many inferior gods 
+
+
+What is the cause, therefore, which has driven so many select gods to 
+these very small works, in which they are excelled by Vitumnus and 
+Sentinus, though little known and sunk in obscurity, inasmuch as they 
+confer the munificent gifts of life and sensation? For the select Janus 
+bestows an entrance, and, as it were, a door? for the seed; the select 
+Saturn bestows the seed itself; the select Liber bestows on men the 
+emission of the same seed; Libera, who is Ceres or Venus, confers the 
+same on women; the select Juno confers (not alone, but together with 
+Mena, the daughter of Jupiter) the menses, for the growth of that which 
+has been conceived; and the obscure and ignoble Vitumnus confers life, 
+whilst the obscure and ignoble Sentinus confers sensation;—which two 
+last things are as much more excellent than the others, as they 
+
+
+themselves are excelled by reason and intellect. For as those things 
+which reason and understand are preferable to those which, without 
+intellect and reason, as in the case of cattle, live and feel; so also those 
+things which have been endowed with life and sensation are deservedly 
+preferred to those things which neither live nor feel. Therefore Vitumnus 
+the life-giver,4 and Sentinus the sense-giver,5 ought to have been 
+reckoned among the select gods, rather than Janus the admitter of seed, 
+and Saturn the giver or sower of seed, and Liber and Libera the movers 
+and liberators of seed; which seed is not worth a thought, unless it attain 
+to life and sensation. Yet these select gifts are not given by select gods, 
+but by certain unknown, and, considering their dignity, neglected gods. 
+But if it be replied that Janus has dominion over all beginnings, and 
+therefore the opening of the way for conception is not without reason 
+assigned to him; and that Saturn has dominion over all seeds, and 
+therefore the sowing of the seed whereby a human being is generated 
+cannot be excluded from his operation; that Liber and Libera have power 
+over the emission of all seeds, and therefore preside over those seeds 
+which pertain to the procreation of men; that Juno presides over all 
+purgations and births, and therefore she has also charge of the 
+purgations of women and the births of human beings;—if they give this 
+reply, let them find an answer to the question concerning Vitumnus and 
+Sentinus, whether they are willing that these likewise should have 
+dominion over all things which live and feel. If they grant this, let them 
+observe in how sublime a position they are about to place them. For to 
+spring from seeds is in the earth and of the earth, but to live and feel are 
+supposed to be properties even of the sidereal gods. But if they say that 
+only such things as come to life in flesh, and are supported by senses, are 
+assigned to Sentinus, why does not that God who made all things live 
+and feel, bestow on flesh also life and sensation, in the universality of 
+His operation conferring also on foetuses this gift? And what, then, is the 
+use of Vitumnus and Sentinus? But if these, as it were, extreme and 
+lowest things have been committed by Him who presides universally 
+over life and sense to these gods as to servants, are these select gods 
+then so destitute of servants, that they could not find any to whom even 
+they might commit those things, but with all their dignity, for which 
+they are, it seems, deemed worthy to be selected, were compelled to 
+perform their work along with ignoble ones? Juno is select queen of the 
+
+
+gods, and the sister and wife of Jupiter; nevertheless she is Iterduca, the 
+conductor, to boys, and performs this work along with a most ignoble 
+pair—the goddesses Abeona and Adeona. There they have also placed 
+the goddess Mens, who gives to boys a good mind, and she is not placed 
+among the select gods; as if anything greater could be bestowed on a 
+man than a good mind. But Juno is placed among the select because she 
+is Iterduca and Domiduca (she who conducts one on a journey, and who 
+conducts him home again); as if it is of any advantage for one to make a 
+journey, and to be conducted home again, if his mind is not good. And 
+yet the goddess who bestows that gift has not been placed by the 
+selectors among the select gods, though she ought indeed to have been 
+preferred even to Minerva, to whom, in this minute distribution of work, 
+they have allotted the memory of boys. For who will doubt that it is a 
+far better thing to have a good mind, than ever so great a memory? For 
+no one is bad who has a good mind,® but some who are very bad are 
+possessed of an admirable memory, and are so much the worse, the less 
+they are able to forget the bad things which they think. And yet Minerva 
+is among the select gods, whilst the goddess Mens is hidden by a 
+worthless crowd. What shall I say concernin Virtus? What concerning 
+Felicitas?—concerning whom I have already spoken much in the fourth 
+book;7 to whom, though they held them to be goddesses, they have not 
+thought fit to assign a place among the select gods, among whom they 
+have given a place to Mars and Orcus, the one the causer of death, the 
+other the receiver of the dead. 
+
+Since, therefore, we see that even the select gods themselves work 
+together with the others, like a senate with the people, in all those 
+minute works which have been minutely portioned out among many 
+gods; and since we find that far greater and better things are 
+administered by certain gods who have not been reckoned worthy to be 
+selected than by those who are called select, it remains that we suppose 
+that they were called select and chief, not on account of their holding 
+more exalted offices in the world, but because it happened to them to 
+become better known to the people. And even Varro himself says, that in 
+that way obscurity had fallen to the lot of some father gods and mother 
+goddesses,’ as it falls to the lot of men. If, therefore, Felicity ought not 
+perhaps to have been put among the select gods, because they did not 
+attain to that noble position by merit, but by chance, Fortune at least 
+
+
+should have been placed among them, or rather before them; for they 
+say that that goddess distributes to every one the gifts she receives, not 
+according to any rational arrangement, but according as chance may 
+determine. She ought to have held the uppermost place among the select 
+gods, for among them chiefly it is that she shows what power she has. 
+For we see that they have been selected not on account of some eminent 
+virtue or rational happiness, but by that random power of Fortune which 
+the worshippers of these gods think that she exerts. For that most 
+eloquent man Sallust also may perhaps have the gods themselves in view 
+when he says: “But, in truth, fortune rules in everything; it renders all 
+things famous or obscure, according to caprice rather than according to 
+truth.”9 For they cannot discover a reason why Venus should have been 
+made famous, whilst Virtus has been made obscure, when the divinity of 
+both of them has been solemnly recognised by them, and their merits are 
+not to be compared. Again, if she has deserved a noble position on 
+account of the fact that she is much sought after—for there are more 
+who seek after Venus than after Virtus—why has Minerva been 
+celebrated whilst Pecunia has been left in obscurity, although 
+throughout the whole human race avarice allures a far greater number 
+than skill? And even among those who are skilled in the arts, you will 
+rarely find a man who does not practise his own art for the purpose of 
+pecuniary gain; and that for the sake of which anything is made, is 
+always valued more than that which is made for the sake of something 
+else. If, then, this selection of gods has been made by the judgment of 
+the foolish multitude, why has not the goddess Pecunia been preferred to 
+Minerva, since there are many artificers for the sake of money? But if 
+this distinction has been made by the few wise, why has Virtus not been 
+preferred to Venus, when reason by far prefers the former? At all events, 
+as I have already said, Fortune herself—who, according to those who 
+attribute most influence to her, renders all things famous or obscure 
+according to caprice rather than according to the truth—since she has 
+been able to exercise so much power even over the gods, as, according to 
+her capricious judgment, to render those of them famous whom she 
+would, and those obscure whom she would; Fortune herself ought to 
+occupy the place of pre-eminence among the select gods, since over 
+them also she has such pre-eminent power. Or must we suppose that the 
+reason why she is not among the select is simply this, that even Fortune 
+
+
+herself has had an adverse fortune? She was adverse, then, to herself, 
+since, whilst ennobling others, she herself has remained obscure. 
+
+
+4. The inferior gods, whose names are not associated with infamy, have been better dealt with 
+
+
+than the select gods, whose infamies are celebrated 
+
+
+However, any one who eagerly seeks for celebrity and renown, might 
+congratulate those select gods, and call them fortunate, were it not that 
+he saw that they have been selected more to their injury than to their 
+honour. For that low crowd of gods have been protected by their very 
+meanness and obscurity from being overwhelmed with infamy. We 
+laugh, indeed, when we see them distributed by the mere fiction of 
+human opinions, according to the special works assigned to them, like 
+those who farm small portions of the public revenue, or like workmen in 
+the street of the silversmiths,!° where one vessel, in order that it may go 
+out perfect, passes through the hands of many, when it might have been 
+finished by one perfect workman. But the only reason why the combined 
+skill of many workmen was thought necessary, was, that it is better that 
+each part of an art should be learned by a special workman, which can 
+be done speedily and easily, than that they should all be compelled to be 
+perfect in one art throughout all its parts, which they could only attain 
+slowly and with difficulty. Nevertheless there is scarcely to be found one 
+of the non-select gods who has brought infamy on himself by any crime, 
+whilst there is scarce any one of the select gods who has not received 
+upon himself the brand of notable infamy. These latter have descended 
+to the humble works of the others, whilst the others have not come up to 
+their sublime crimes. Concerning Janus, there does not readily occur to 
+my recollection anything infamous; and perhaps he was such an one as 
+lived more innocently than the rest, and further removed from misdeeds 
+and crimes. He kindly received and entertained Saturn when he was 
+fleeing; he divided his kingdom with his guest, so that each of them had 
+a city for himself!1—the one Janiculum, and the other Saturnia. But 
+those seekers after every kind of unseemliness in the worship of the gods 
+have disgraced him, whose life they found to be less disgraceful than 
+that of the other gods, with an image of monstrous deformity, making it 
+sometimes with two faces, and sometimes, as it were, double, with four 
+faces.12 Did they wish that, as the most of the select gods had lost 
+shamel3 through the perpetration of shameful crimes, his greater 
+
+
+innocence should be marked by a greater number of faces?!4 
+
+
+5. Concerning the more secret doctrine of the pagans, and concerning the physical interpretations 
+
+
+But let us hear their own physical interpretations by which they 
+attempt to colour, as with the appearance of profounder doctrine, the 
+baseness of most miserable error. Varro, in the first place, commends 
+these interpretations so strongly as to say, that the ancients invented the 
+images, badges, and adornments of the gods, in order that when those 
+who went to the mysteries should see them with their bodily eyes, they 
+might with the eyes of their mind see the soul of the world, and its parts, 
+that is, the true gods; and also that the meaning which was intended by 
+those who made their images with the human form, seemed to be this— 
+namely, that the mind of mortals, which is in a human body, is very like 
+to the immortal mind,!5 just as vessels might be placed to represent the 
+gods, as, for instance, a wine-vessel might be placed in the temple of 
+Liber, to signify wine, that which is contained being signified by that 
+which contains. Thus by an image which had the human form the 
+rational soul was signified, because the human form is the vessel, as it 
+were, in which that nature is wont to be contained which they attribute 
+to God, or to the gods. These are the mysteries of doctrine to which that 
+most learned man penetrated in order that he might bring them forth to 
+the light. But, O thou most acute man, hast thou lost among those 
+mysteries that prudence which led thee to form the sober opinion, that 
+those who first established those images for the people took away fear 
+from the citizens and added error, and that the ancient Romans 
+honoured the gods more chastely without images? For it was through 
+consideration of them that thou wast emboldened to speak these things 
+against the later Romans. For if those most ancient Romans also had 
+worshipped images, perhaps thou wouldst have suppressed by the 
+silence of fear all those sentiments (true sentiments, nevertheless) 
+concerning the folly of setting up images, and wouldst have extolled 
+more loftily, and more loquaciously, those mysterious doctrines 
+consisting of these vain and pernicious fictions. Thy soul, so learned and 
+so clever (and for this I grieve much for thee), could never through these 
+mysteries have reached its God; that is, the God by whom, not with 
+whom, it was made, of whom it is not a part, but a work—that God who 
+is not the soul of all things, but who made every soul, and in whose light 
+
+
+alone every soul is blessed, if it be not ungrateful for His grace. 
+
+But the things which follow in this book will show what is the nature 
+of these mysteries, and what value is to be set upon them. Meanwhile, 
+this most learned man confesses as his opinion that the soul of the world 
+and its parts are the true gods, from which we perceive that his theology 
+(to wit, that same natural theology to which he pays great regard) has 
+been able, in its completeness, to extend itself even to the nature of the 
+rational soul. For in this book (concerning the select gods) he says a very 
+few things by anticipation concerning the natural theology; and we shall 
+see whether he has been able in that book, by means of physical 
+interpretations, to refer to this natural theology that civil theology, 
+concerning which he wrote last when treating of the select gods. Now, if 
+he has been able to do this, the whole is natural; and in that case, what 
+need was there for distinguishing so carefully the civil from the natural? 
+But if it has been distinguished by a veritable distinction, then, since not 
+even this natural theology with which he is so much pleased is true (for 
+though it has reached as far as the soul, it has not reached to the true 
+God who made the soul), how much more contemptible and false is that 
+civil theology which is chiefly occupied about what is corporeal, as will 
+be shown by its very interpretations, which they have with such 
+diligence sought out and enucleated, some of which I must necessarily 
+mention! 
+
+
+6. Concerning the opinion of Varro, that God is the soul of the world, which nevertheless, in its 
+
+
+various parts, has many souls whose nature is divine 
+
+
+The same Varro, then, still speaking by anticipation, says that he 
+thinks that God is the soul of the world (which the Greeks call »óspog), 
+and that this world itself is God; but as a wise man, though he consists of 
+body and mind, is nevertheless called wise on account of his mind, so 
+the world is called God on account of mind, although it consists of mind 
+and body. Here he seems, in some fashion at least, to acknowledge one 
+God; but that he may introduce more, he adds that the world is divided 
+into two parts, heaven and earth, which are again divided each into two 
+parts, heaven into ether and air, earth into water and land, of all which 
+the ether is the highest, the air second, the water third, and the earth the 
+lowest. All these four parts, he says, are full of souls; those which are in 
+the ether and air being immortal, and those which are in the water and 
+
+
+on the earth mortal. From the highest part of the heavens to the orbit of 
+the moon there are souls, namely, the stars and planets; and these are 
+not only understood to be gods, but are seen to be such. And between 
+the orbit of the moon and the commencement of the region of clouds 
+and winds there are aerial souls; but these are seen with the mind, not 
+with the eyes, and are called Heroes, and Lares, and Genii. This is the 
+natural theology which is briefly set forth in these anticipatory 
+statements, and which satisfied not Varro only, but many philosophers 
+besides. This I must discuss more carefully, when, with the help of God, I 
+shall have completed what I have yet to say concerning the civil 
+theology, as far as it concerns the select gods. 
+
+
+7. Whether it is reasonable to separate Janus and Terminus as two distinct deities 
+
+
+Who, then, is Janus, with whom Varro commences? He is the world. 
+Certainly a very brief and unambiguous reply. Why, then, do they say 
+that the beginnings of things pertain to him, but the ends to another 
+whom they call Terminus? For they say that two months have been 
+dedicated to these two gods, with reference to beginnings and ends— 
+January to Janus, and February to Terminus—over and above those ten 
+months which commence with March and end with December. And they 
+say that that is the reason why the Terminalia are celebrated in the 
+month of February, the same month in which the sacred purification is 
+made which they call Februum, and from which the month derives its 
+name.!6 Do the beginnings of things, therefore, pertain to the world, 
+which is Janus, and not also the ends, since another god has been placed 
+over them? Do they not own that all things which they say begin in this 
+world also come to end in this world? What folly it is, to give him only 
+half power in work, when in his image they give him two faces! Would it 
+not be a far more elegant way of interpreting the two-faced image, to say 
+that Janus and Terminus are the same, and that the one face has 
+reference to beginnings, the other to ends? For one who works ought to 
+have respect to both. For he who in every forthputting of activity does 
+not look back on the beginning, does not look forward to the end. 
+Wherefore it is necessary that prospective intention be connected with 
+retrospective memory. For how shall one find how to finish anything, if 
+he has forgotten what it was which he had begun? But if they thought 
+that the blessed life is begun in this world, and perfected beyond the 
+
+
+world, and for that reason attributed to Janus, that is, to the world, only 
+the power of beginnings, they should certainly have preferred Terminus 
+to him, and should not have shut him out from the number of the select 
+gods. Yet even now, when the beginnings and ends of temporal things 
+are represented by these two gods, more honour ought to have been 
+given to Terminus. For the greater joy is that which is felt when 
+anything is finished; but things begun are always cause of much anxiety 
+until they are brought to an end, which end he who begins anything 
+very greatly longs for, fixes his mind on, expects, desires; nor does any 
+one ever rejoice over anything he has begun, unless it be brought to an 
+end. 
+
+
+8. For what reason the worshippers of Janus have made his image with two faces, when they 
+
+
+would sometimes have it be seen with four 
+
+
+But now let the interpretation of the two-faced image be produced. 
+For they say that it has two faces, one before and one behind, because 
+our gaping mouths seem to resemble the world: whence the Greeks call 
+the palate %%p2s, and some Latin poets,!7 he says, have called the 
+heavens palatum [the palate]; and from the gaping mouth, they say, 
+there is a way out in the direction of the teeth, and a way in in the 
+direction of the gullet. See what the world has been brought to on 
+account of a Greek or a poetical word for our palate! Let this god be 
+worshipped only on account of saliva, which has two open doorways 
+under the heavens of the palate—one through which part of it may be 
+spitten out, the other through which part of it may be swallowed down. 
+Besides, what is more absurd than not to find in the world itself two 
+doorways opposite to each other, through which it may either receive 
+anything into itself, or cast it out from itself; and to seek of our throat 
+and gullet, to which the world has no resemblance, to make up an image 
+of the world in Janus, because the world is said to resemble the palate, to 
+which Janus bears no likeness? But when they make him four-faced, and 
+call him double Janus, they interpret this as having reference to the four 
+quarters of the world, as though the world looked out on anything, like 
+Janus through his four faces. Again, if Janus is the world, and the world 
+consists of four quarters, then the image of the two-faced Janus is false. 
+Or if it is true, because the whole world is sometimes understood by the 
+expression east and west, will any one call the world double when north 
+
+
+and south also are mentioned, as they call Janus double when he has 
+four faces? They have no way at all of interpreting, in relation to the 
+world, four doorways by which to go in and to come out as they did in 
+the case of the two-faced Janus, where they found, at any rate in the 
+human mouth, something which answered to what they said about him; 
+unless perhaps Neptune come to their aid, and hand them a fish, which, 
+besides the mouth and gullet, has also the openings of the gills, one on 
+each side. Nevertheless, with all the doors, no soul escapes this vanity 
+but that one which hears the truth saying, “I am the door.”!8 
+
+
+9. Concerning the power of Jupiter, and a comparison of Jupiter with Janus 
+
+
+But they also show whom they would have Jove (who is also called 
+Jupiter) understood to be. He is the god, say they, who has the power of 
+the causes by which anything comes to be in the world. And how great a 
+thing this is, that most noble verse of Virgil testifies : 
+
+
+“Happy is he who has learned the causes of things.”19 
+
+
+But why is Janus preferred to him? Let that most acute and most learned 
+man answer us this question. “Because,” says he, “Janus has dominion 
+over first things, Jupiter over highest2° things. Therefore Jupiter is 
+deservedly held to be the king of all things; for highest things are better 
+than first things: for although first things precede in time, highest things 
+excel by dignity.” 
+
+Now this would have been rightly said had the first parts of things 
+which are done been distinguished from the highest parts; as, for 
+instance, it is the beginning of a thing done to set out, the highest part to 
+arrive. The commencing to learn is the first part of a thing begun, the 
+acquirement of knowledge is the highest part. And so of all things: the 
+beginnings are first, the ends highest. This matter, however, has been 
+already discussed in connection with Janus and Terminus. But the causes 
+which are attributed to Jupiter are things effecting, not things effected; 
+and it is impossible for them to be prevented in time by things which are 
+made or done, or by the beginnings of such things; for the thing which 
+makes is always prior to the thing which is made. Therefore, though the 
+beginnings of things which are made or done pertain to Janus, they are 
+nevertheless not prior to the efficient causes which they attribute to 
+
+
+Jupiter. For as nothing takes place without being preceded by an 
+efficient cause, so without an efficient cause nothing begins to take 
+place. Verily, if the people call this god Jupiter, in whose power are all 
+the causes of all natures which have been made, and of all natural 
+things, and worship him with such insults and infamous criminations, 
+they are guilty of more shocking sacrilege than if they should totally 
+deny the existence of any god. It would therefore be better for them to 
+call some other god by the name of Jupiter—some one worthy of base 
+and criminal honours; substituting instead of Jupiter some vain fiction 
+(as Saturn is said to have had a stone given to him to devour instead of 
+his son), which they might make the subject of their blasphemies, rather 
+than speak of that god as both thundering and committing adultery— 
+ruling the whole world, and laying himself out for the commission of so 
+many licentious acts—having in his power nature and the highest causes 
+of all natural things, but not having his own causes good. 
+
+Next, I ask what place they find any longer for this Jupiter among the 
+gods, if Janus is the world; for Varro defined the true gods to be the soul 
+of the world, and the parts of it. And therefore whatever falls not within 
+this definition, is certainly not a true god, according to them. Will they 
+then say that Jupiter is the soul of the world, and Janus the body—that 
+is, this visible world? If they say this, it will not be possible for them to 
+affirm that Janus is a god. For even, according to them, the body of the 
+world is not a god, but the soul of the world and its parts. Wherefore 
+Varro, seeing this, says that he thinks God is the soul of the world, and 
+that this world itself is God; but that as a wise man, though he consists 
+of soul and body, is nevertheless called wise from the soul, so the world 
+is called God from the soul, though it consists of soul and body. 
+Therefore the body of the world alone is not God, but either the soul of 
+it alone, or the soul and the body together, yet so as that it is God not by 
+virtue of the body, but by virtue of the soul. If, therefore, Janus is the 
+world, and Janus is a god, will they say, in order that Jupiter may be a 
+god, that he is some part of Janus? For they are wont rather to attribute 
+universal existence to Jupiter; whence the saying, “All things are full of 
+Jupiter.”21 Therefore they must think Jupiter also, in order that he may 
+be a god, and especially king of the gods, to be the world, that he may 
+rule over the other gods—according to them, his parts. To this effect, 
+also, the same Varro expounds certain verses of Valerius Soranus?2 in 
+
+
+that book which he wrote apart from the others concerning the worship 
+of the gods. These are the verses: 
+
+
+“Almighty Jove, progenitor of kings, and things, and gods, 
+And eke the mother of the gods, god one and all.” 
+
+
+But in the same book he expounds these verses by saying that as the 
+male emits seed, and the female receives it, so Jupiter, whom they 
+believed to be the world, both emits all seeds from himself and receives 
+them into himself. For which reason, he says, Soranus wrote, “Jove, 
+progenitor and mother;” and with no less reason said that one and all 
+were the same. For the world is one, and in that one are all things. 
+
+
+10. Whether the distinction between Janus and Jupiter is a proper one 
+
+
+Since, therefore, Janus is the world, and Jupiter is the world, 
+wherefore are Janus and Jupiter two gods, while the world is but one? 
+Why do they have separate temples, separate altars, different rites, 
+dissimilar images? If it be because the nature of beginnings is one, and 
+the nature of causes another, and the one has received the name of 
+Janus, the other of Jupiter; is it then the case, that if one man has two 
+distinct offices of authority, or two arts, two judges or two artificers are 
+spoken of, because the nature of the offices or the arts is different? So 
+also with respect to one god: if he have the power of beginnings and of 
+causes, must he therefore be thought to be two gods, because beginnings 
+and causes are two things? But if they think that this is right, let them 
+also affirm that Jupiter is as many gods as they have given him 
+surnames, on account of many powers; for the things from which these 
+surnames are applied to him are many and diverse. I shall mention a few 
+of them. 
+
+
+11. Concerning the surnames of Jupiter, which are referred not to many gods, but to one and the 
+
+
+same god 
+
+
+They have called him Victor, Invictus, Opitulus, Impulsor, Stator, 
+Centumpeda, Supinalis, Tigillus, Almus, Ruminus, and other names 
+which it were long to enumerate. But these surnames they have given to 
+one god on account of diverse causes and powers, but yet have not 
+compelled him to be, on account of so many things, as many gods. They 
+
+
+gave him these surnames because he conquered all things; because he 
+was conquered by none; because he brought help to the needy; because 
+he had the power of impelling, stopping, stablishing, throwing on the 
+back; because as a beam23 he held together and sustained the world; 
+because he nourished all things; because, like the pap,24 he nourished 
+animals. Here, we perceive, are some great things and some small things; 
+and yet it is one who is said to perform them all. I think that the causes 
+and the beginnings of things, on account of which they have thought 
+that the one world is two gods, Jupiter and Janus, are nearer to each 
+other than the holding together of the world, and the giving of the pap 
+to animals; and yet, on account of these two works so far apart from 
+each other, both in nature and dignity, there has not been any necessity 
+for the existence of two gods; but one Jupiter has been called, on 
+account of the one Tigillus, on account of the other Ruminus. I am 
+unwilling to say that the giving of the pap to sucking animals might 
+have become Juno rather than Jupiter, especially when there was the 
+goddess Rumina to help and to serve her in this work; for I think it may 
+be replied that Juno herself is nothing else than Jupiter, according to 
+those verses of Valerius Soranus, where it has been said : 
+
+
+“Almighty Jove, progenitor of kings, and things, and gods, 
+And eke the mother of the gods,” etc. 
+
+
+Why, then, was he called Ruminus, when they who may perchance 
+inquire more diligently may find that he is also that goddess Rumina? 
+
+If, then, it was rightly thought unworthy of the majesty of the gods, 
+that in one ear of corn one god should have the care of the joint, another 
+that of the husk, how much more unworthy of that majesty is it, that one 
+thing, and that of the lowest kind, even the giving of the pap to animals 
+that they may be nourished, should be under the care of two gods, one 
+of whom is Jupiter himself, the very king of all things, who does this not 
+along with his own wife, but with some ignoble Rumina (unless perhaps 
+he himself is Rumina, being Ruminus for males and Rumina for 
+females)! I should certainly have said that they had been unwilling to 
+apply to Jupiter a feminine name, had he not been styled in these verses 
+“progenitor and mother,” and had I not read among other surnames of 
+his that of Pecunia [money], which we found as a goddess among those 
+
+
+petty deities, as I have already mentioned in the fourth book. But since 
+both males and females have money [pecuniam], why has he not been 
+called both Pecunius and Pecunia? That is their concern. 
+
+
+12. That Jupiter is also called Pecunia 
+
+
+How elegantly they have accounted for this name! “He is also called 
+Pecunia,” say they, “because all things belong to him.” Oh how grand an 
+explanation of the name of a deity! Yes; he to whom all things belong is 
+most meanly and most contumeliously called Pecunia. In comparison of 
+all things which are contained by heaven and earth, what are all things 
+together which are possessed by men under the name of money?25 And 
+this name, forsooth, hath avarice given to Jupiter, that whoever was a 
+lover of money might seem to himself to love not an ordinary god, but 
+the very king of all things himself. But it would be a far different thing if 
+he had been called Riches. For riches are one thing, money another. For 
+we call rich the wise, the just, the good, who have either no money or 
+very little. For they are more truly rich in possessing virtue, since by it, 
+even as respects things necessary for the body, they are content with 
+what they have. But we call the greedy poor, who are always craving 
+and always wanting. For they may possess ever so great an amount of 
+money; but whatever be the abundance of that, they are not able but to 
+want. And we properly call God Himself rich; not, however, in money, 
+but in omnipotence. Therefore they who have abundance of money are 
+called rich, but inwardly needy if they are greedy. So also, those who 
+have no money are called poor, but inwardly rich if they are wise. 
+
+What, then, ought the wise man to think of this theology, in which the 
+king of the gods receives the name of that thing “which no wise man has 
+desired?”26 For had there been anything wholesomely taught by this 
+philosophy concerning eternal life, how much more appropriately would 
+that god who is the ruler of the world have been called by them not 
+money, but wisdom, the love of which purges from the filth of avarice, 
+that is, of the love of money! 
+
+
+13. That when it is expounded what Saturn is, what Genius is, it comes to this, that both of them 
+
+
+are shown to be Jupiter. 
+
+
+But why speak more of this Jupiter, with whom perchance all the rest 
+are to be identified; so that, he being all, the opinion as to the existence 
+
+
+of many gods may remain as a mere opinion, empty of all truth? And 
+they are all to be referred to him, if his various parts and powers are 
+thought of as so many gods, or if the principle of mind which they think 
+to be diffused through all things has received the names of many gods 
+from the various parts which the mass of this visible world combines in 
+itself, and from the manifold administration of nature. For what is 
+Saturn also? “One of the principal gods,” he says, “who has dominion 
+over all sowings.” Does not the exposition of the verses of Valerius 
+Soranus teach that Jupiter is the world, and that he emits all seeds from 
+himself, and receives them into himself? 
+
+It is he, then, with whom is the dominion of all sowings. What is 
+Genius? “He is the god who is set over, and has the power of begetting, 
+all things.” Who else than the world do they believe to have this power, 
+to which it has been said : 
+
+
+“Almighty Jove, progenitor and mother?” 
+
+
+And when in another place he says that Genius is the rational soul of 
+every one, and therefore exists separately in each individual, but that the 
+corresponding soul of the world is God, he just comes back to this same 
+thing—namely, that the soul of the world itself is to be held to be, as it 
+were, the universal genius. This, therefore, is what he calls Jupiter. For if 
+every genius is a god, and the soul of every man a genius, it follows that 
+the soul of every man is a god. But if very absurdity compels even these 
+theologists themselves to shrink from this, it remains that they call that 
+genius god by special and pre-eminent distinction, whom they call the 
+soul of the world, and therefore Jupiter. 
+
+
+14. Concerning the offices of Mercury and Mars 
+
+
+But they have not found how to refer Mercury and Mars to any parts 
+of the world, and to the works of God which are in the elements; and 
+therefore they have set them at least over human works, making them 
+assistants in speaking and in carrying on wars. Now Mercury, if he has 
+also the power of the speech of the gods, rules also over the king of the 
+gods himself, if Jupiter, as he receives from him the faculty of speech, 
+also speaks according as it is his pleasure to permit him—which surely is 
+absurd; but if it is only the power over human speech which is held to be 
+
+
+attributed to him, then we say it is incredible that Jupiter should have 
+condescended to give the pap not only to children, but also to beasts— 
+from which he has been surnamed Ruminus—and yet should have been 
+unwilling that the care of our speech, by which we excel the beasts, 
+should pertain to him. And thus speech itself both belongs to Jupiter, 
+and is Mercury. But if speech itself is said to be Mercury, as those things 
+which are said concerning him by way of interpretation show it to be;— 
+for he is said to have been called Mercury, that is, he who runs 
+between,2” because speech runs between men: they say also that the 
+Greeks call him ‘Eas, because speech, or interpretation, which certainly 
+belongs to speech, is called by them é#nvei#: also he is said to preside 
+over payments, because speech passes between sellers and buyers: the 
+wings, too, which he has on his head and on his feet, they say, mean that 
+speech passes winged through the air: he is also said to have been called 
+the messenger,28 because by means of speech all our thoughts are 
+expressed;29—if, therefore, speech itself is Mercury, then, even by their 
+own confession, he is not a god. But when they make to themselves gods 
+of such as are not even demons, by praying to unclean spirits, they are 
+possessed by such as are not gods, but demons. In like manner, because 
+they have not been able to find for Mars any element or part of the 
+world in which he might perform some works of nature of whatever 
+kind, they have said that he is the god of war, which is a work of men, 
+and that not one which is considered desirable by them. If, therefore, 
+Felicitas should give perpetual peace, Mars would have nothing to do. 
+But if war itself is Mars, as speech is Mercury, I wish it were as true that 
+there were no war to be falsely called a god, as it is true that it is not a 
+god. 
+
+
+15. Concerning certain stars which the pagans have called by the names of their gods 
+
+
+But possibly these stars which have been called by their names are 
+these gods. For they call a certain star Mercury, and likewise a certain 
+other star Mars. But among those stars which are called by the names of 
+gods, is that one which they call Jupiter, and yet with them Jupiter is 
+the world. There also is that one they call Saturn, and yet they give to 
+him no small property besides—namely, all seeds. There also is that 
+brightest of them all which is called by them Venus, and yet they will 
+have this same Venus to be also the moon:—not to mention how Venus 
+
+
+and Juno are said by them to contend about that most brilliant star, as 
+though about another golden apple. For some say that Lucifer belongs to 
+Venus, and some to Juno. But, as usual, Venus conquers. For by far the 
+greatest number assign that star to Venus, so much so that there is 
+scarcely found one of them who thinks otherwise. But since they call 
+Jupiter the king of all, who will not laugh to see his star so far surpassed 
+in brilliancy by the star of Venus? For it ought to have been as much 
+more brilliant than the rest, as he himself is more powerful. They answer 
+that it only appears so because it is higher up, and very much farther 
+away from the earth. If, therefore, its greater dignity has deserved a 
+higher place, why is Saturn higher in the heavens than Jupiter? Was the 
+vanity of the fable which made Jupiter king not able to reach the stars? 
+And has Saturn been permitted to obtain at least in the heavens, what he 
+could not obtain in his own kingdom nor in the Capitol? 
+
+But why has Janus received no star? If it is because he is the world, 
+and they are all in him, the world is also Jupiter’s, and yet he has one. 
+Did Janus compromise his case as best he could, and instead of the one 
+star which he does not have among the heavenly bodies, accept so many 
+faces on earth? Again, if they think that on account of the stars alone 
+Mercury and Mars are parts of the world, in order that they may be able 
+to have them for gods, since speech and war are not parts of the world, 
+but acts of men, how is it that they have made no altars, established no 
+rites, built no temples for Aries, and Taurus, and Cancer, and Scorpio, 
+and the rest which they number as the celestial signs, and which consist 
+not of single stars, but each of them of many stars, which also they say 
+are situated above those already mentioned in the highest part of the 
+heavens, where a more constant motion causes the stars to follow an 
+undeviating course? And why have they not reckoned them as gods, I do 
+not say among those select gods, but not even among those, as it were, 
+plebeian gods? 
+
+
+16. Concerning Apollo and Diana, and the other select gods whom they would have to be parts 
+of the world 
+
+
+Although they would have Apollo to be a diviner and physician, they 
+have nevertheless given him a place as some part of the world. They 
+have said that he is also the sun; and likewise they have said that Diana, 
+his sister, is the moon, and the guardian of roads. Whence also they will 
+
+
+have her be a virgin, because a road brings forth nothing. They also 
+make both of them have arrows, because those two planets send their 
+rays from the heavens to the earth. They make Vulcan to be the fire of 
+the world; Neptune the waters of the world; Father Dis, that is, Orcus, 
+the earthy and lowest part of the world. Liber and Ceres they set over 
+seeds—the former over the seeds of males, the latter over the seeds of 
+females; or the one over the fluid part of seed, but the other over the dry 
+part. And all this together is referred to the world, that is, to Jupiter, 
+who is called “progenitor and mother,” because he emitted all seeds 
+from himself, and received them into himself. For they also make this 
+same Ceres to be the Great Mother, who they say is none other than the 
+earth, and call her also Juno. And therefore they assign to her the second 
+causes of things, notwithstanding that it has been said to Jupiter, 
+“progenitor and mother of the gods;” because, according to them, the 
+whole world itself is Jupiter’s. Minerva, also, because they set her over 
+human arts, and did not find even a star in which to place her, has been 
+said by them to be either the highest ether, or even the moon. Also 
+Vesta herself they have thought to be the highest of the goddesses, 
+because she is the earth; although they have thought that the milder fire 
+of the world, which is used for the ordinary purposes of human life, not 
+the more violent fire, such as belongs to Vulcan, is to be assigned to her. 
+And thus they will have all those select gods to be the world and its 
+parts—some of them the whole world, others of them its parts; the 
+whole of it Jupiter—its parts, Genius, Mater Magna, Sol and Luna, or 
+rather Apollo and Diana, and so on. And sometimes they make one god 
+many things; sometimes one thing many gods. Many things are one god 
+in the case of Jupiter; for both the whole world is Jupiter, and the sky 
+alone is Jupiter, and the star alone is said and held to be Jupiter. Juno 
+also is mistress of second causes—Juno is the air, Juno is the earth; and 
+had she won it over Venus, Juno would have been the star. Likewise 
+Minerva is the highest ether, and Minerva is likewise the moon, which 
+they suppose to be in the lowest limit of the ether. And also they make 
+one thing many gods in this way. The world is both Janus and Jupiter; 
+also the earth is Juno, and Mater Magna, and Ceres. 
+
+
+17. That even Varro himself pronounced his own opinions regarding the gods ambiguous 
+
+
+And the same is true with respect to all the rest, as is true with respect 
+
+
+to those things which I have mentioned for the sake of example. They do 
+not explain them, but rather involve them. They rush hither and thither, 
+to this side or to that, according as they are driven by the impulse of 
+erratic opinion; so that even Varro himself has chosen rather to doubt 
+concerning all things, than to affirm anything. For, having written the 
+first of the three last books concerning the certain gods, and having 
+commenced in the second of these to speak of the uncertain gods, he 
+says: “I ought not to be censured for having stated in this book the 
+doubtful opinions concerning the gods. For he who, when he has read 
+them, shall think that they both ought to be, and can be, conclusively 
+judged of, will do so himself. For my own part, I can be more easily led 
+to doubt the things which I have written in the first book, than to 
+attempt to reduce all the things I shall write in this one to any orderly 
+system.” Thus he makes uncertain not only that book concerning the 
+uncertain gods, but also that other concerning the certain gods. 
+Moreover, in that third book concerning the select gods, after having 
+exhibited by anticipation as much of the natural theology as he deemed 
+necessary, and when about to commence to speak of the vanities and 
+lying insanities of the civil theology, where he was not only without the 
+guidance of the truth of things, but was also pressed by the authority of 
+tradition, he says: “I will write in this book concerning the public gods of 
+the Roman people, to whom they have dedicated temples, and whom 
+they have conspicuously distinguished by many adornments; but, as 
+Xenophon of Colophon writes, I will state what I think, not what I am 
+prepared to maintain: it is for man to think those things, for God to 
+know them.” 
+
+It is not, then, an account of things comprehended and most certainly 
+believed which he promised, when about to write those things which 
+were instituted by men. He only timidly promises an account of things 
+which are but the subject of doubtful opinion. Nor, indeed, was it 
+possible for him to affirm with the same certainty that Janus was the 
+world, and such like things; or to discover with the same certainty such 
+things as how Jupiter was the son of Saturn, while Saturn was made 
+subject to him as king:—he could, I say, neither affirm nor discover such 
+things with the same certainty with which he knew such things as that 
+the world existed, that the heavens and earth existed, the heavens bright 
+with stars, and the earth fertile through seeds; or with the same perfect 
+
+
+conviction with which he believed that this universal mass of nature is 
+governed and administered by a certain invisible and mighty force. 
+
+
+18. A more credible cause of the rise of pagan error 
+
+
+A far more credible account of these gods is given, when it is said that 
+they were men, and that to each one of them sacred rites and solemnities 
+were instituted, according to his particular genius, manners, actions, 
+circumstances; which rites and solemnities, by gradually creeping 
+through the souls of men, which are like demons, and eager for things 
+which yield them sport, were spread far and wide; the poets adorning 
+them with lies, and false spirits seducing men to receive them. For it is 
+far more likely that some youth, either impious himself, or afraid of 
+being slain by an impious father, being desirous to reign, dethroned his 
+father, than that (according to Varro’s interpretation) Saturn was 
+overthrown by his son Jupiter; for cause, which belongs to Jupiter, is 
+before seed, which belongs to Saturn. For had this been so, Saturn would 
+never have been before Jupiter, nor would he have been the father of 
+Jupiter. For cause always precedes seed, and is never generated from 
+seed. But when they seek to honour by natural interpretation most vain 
+fables or deeds of men, even the acutest men are so perplexed that we 
+are compelled to grieve for their folly also. 
+
+
+19. Concerning the interpretations which compose the reason of the worship of Saturn 
+
+
+They said, says Varro, that Saturn was wont to devour all that sprang 
+from him, because seeds returned to the earth from whence they sprang. 
+And when it is said that a lump of earth was put before Saturn to be 
+devoured instead of Jupiter, it is signified, he says, that before the art of 
+ploughing was discovered, seeds were buried in the earth by the hands 
+of men. The earth itself, then, and not seeds, should have been called 
+Saturn, because it in a manner devours what it has brought forth, when 
+the seeds which have sprung from it return again into it. And what has 
+Saturn’s receiving of a lump of earth instead of Jupiter to do with this, 
+that the seeds were covered in the soil by the hands of men? Was the 
+seed kept from being devoured, like other things, by being covered with 
+the soil? For what they say would imply that he who put on the soil took 
+away the seed, as Jupiter is said to have been taken away when the 
+lump of soil was offered to Saturn instead of him, and not rather that the 
+
+
+soil, by covering the seed, only caused it to be devoured the more 
+eagerly. Then, in that way, Jupiter is the seed, and not the cause of the 
+seed, as was said a little before. 
+
+But what shall men do who cannot find anything wise to say, because 
+they are interpreting foolish things? Saturn has a pruning-knife. That, 
+says Varro, is on account of agriculture. Certainly in Saturn’s reign there 
+as yet existed no agriculture, and therefore the former times of Saturn 
+are spoken of, because, as the same Varro interprets the fables, the 
+primeval men lived on those seeds which the earth produced 
+spontaneously. Perhaps he received a pruning-knife when he had lost his 
+sceptre; that he who had been a king, and lived at ease during the first 
+part of his time, should become a laborious workman whilst his son 
+occupied the throne. Then he says that boys were wont to be immolated 
+to him by certain peoples, the Carthaginians for instance; and also that 
+adults were immolated by some nations, for example the Gauls— 
+because, of all seeds, the human race is the best. What need we say more 
+concerning this most cruel vanity? Let us rather attend to and hold by 
+this, that these interpretations are not carried up to the true God—a 
+living, incorporeal, unchangeable nature, from whom a blessed life 
+enduring for ever may be obtained—but that they end in things which 
+are corporeal, temporal, mutable, and mortal. And whereas it is said in 
+the fables that Saturn castrated his father Coelus, this signifies, says 
+Varro, that the divine seed belongs to Saturn, and not to Coelus; for this 
+reason, as far as a reason can be discovered, namely, that in heaven3° 
+nothing is born from seed. But, lo! Saturn, if he is the son of Ccelus, is 
+the son of Jupiter. For they affirm times without number, and that 
+emphatically, that the heavens?! are Jupiter. Thus those things which 
+come not of the truth, do very often, without being impelled by any one, 
+themselves overthrow one another. He says that Saturn was called Kpéves, 
+which in the Greek tongue signifies a space of time,32 because, without 
+that, seed cannot be productive. These and many other things are said 
+concerning Saturn, and they are all referred to seed. But Saturn surely, 
+with all that great power, might have sufficed for seed. Why are other 
+gods demanded for it, especially Liber and Libera, that is, Ceres?— 
+concerning whom again, as far as seed is concerned, he says as many 
+things as if he had said nothing concerning Saturn. 
+
+
+20. Concerning the rites of Eleusinian Ceres 
+
+
+Now among the rites of Ceres, those Eleusinian rites are much famed 
+which were in the highest repute among the Athenians, of which Varro 
+offers no interpretation except with respect to corn, which Ceres 
+discovered, and with respect to Proserpine, whom Ceres lost, Orcus 
+having carried her away. And this Proserpine herself, he says, signifies 
+the fecundity of seeds. But as this fecundity departed at a certain season, 
+whilst the earth wore an aspect of sorrow through the consequent 
+sterility, there arose an opinion that the daughter of Ceres, that is, 
+fecundity itself, who was called Proserpine, from proserpere (to creep 
+forth, to spring), had been carried away by Orcus, and detained among 
+the inhabitants of the nether world; which circumstance was celebrated 
+with public mourning. But since the same fecundity again returned, 
+there arose joy because Proserpine had been given back by Orcus, and 
+thus these rites were instituted. Then Varro adds, that many things are 
+taught in the mysteries of Ceres which only refer to the discovery of 
+fruits. 
+
+
+21. Concerning the shamefulness of the rites which are celebrated in honour of Liber 
+
+
+Now as to the rites of Liber, whom they have set over liquid seeds, and 
+therefore not only over the liquors of fruits, among which wine holds, so 
+to speak, the primacy, but also over the seeds of animals:—as to these 
+rites, I am unwilling to undertake to show to what excess of turpitude 
+they had reached, because that would entail a lengthened discourse, 
+though I am not unwilling to do so as a demonstration of the proud 
+stupidity of those who practise them. Among other rites which I am 
+compelled from the greatness of their number to omit, Varro says that in 
+Italy, at the places where roads crossed each other, the rites of Liber 
+were celebrated with such unrestrained turpitude, that the private parts 
+of a man were worshipped in his honour. Nor was this abomination 
+transacted in secret, that some regard at least might be paid to modesty, 
+but was wantonly and openly displayed. For during the festival of Liber, 
+this obscene member, placed on a car, was carried with great honour, 
+first over the cross-roads in the country, and then into the city. But in 
+the town of Lavinium a whole month was devoted to Liber alone, during 
+the days of which all the people gave themselves up to the most 
+dissolute conversation, until that member had been carried through the 
+
+
+forum and brought to rest in its own place; on which unseemly member 
+it was necessary that the most honourable mation should place a wreath 
+in the presence of all the people. Thus, forsooth, was the god Liber to be 
+appeased in order to the growth of seeds. Thus was enchantment to be 
+driven away from fields, even by a matron’s being compelled to do in 
+public what not even a harlot ought to be permitted to do in a theatre, if 
+there were matrons among the spectators. For these reasons, then, 
+Saturn alone was not believed to be sufficient for seeds—namely, that 
+the impure mind might find occasions for multiplying the gods; and that, 
+being righteously abandoned to uncleanliness by the one true God, and 
+being prostituted to the worship of many false gods, through an avidity 
+for ever greater and greater uncleanness, it should call these sacrilegious 
+rites sacred things, and should abandon itself to be violated and polluted 
+by crowds of foul demons. 
+
+
+22. Concerning Neptune. and Salacia, and Venilia 
+
+
+Now Neptune had Salacia to wife, who they say is the nether waters of 
+the sea. Wherefore was Venilia also joined to him? Was it not simply 
+through the lust of the soul desiring a greater number of demons to 
+whom to prostitute itself, and not because this goddess was necessary to 
+the perfection of their sacred rites? But let the interpretation of this 
+illustrious theology be brought forward to restrain us from this censuring 
+by rendering a satisfactory reason. Venilia, says this theology, is the 
+wave which comes to the shore, Salacia the wave which returns into the 
+sea. Why, then, are there two goddesses, when it is one wave which 
+comes and returns? Certainly it is mad lust itself, which in its eagerness 
+for many deities resembles the waves which break on the shore. For 
+though the water which goes is not different from that which returns, 
+still the soul which goes and returns not is defiled by two demons, whom 
+it has taken occasion by this false pretext to invite. I ask thee, O Varro, 
+and you who have read such works of learned men, and think ye have 
+learned something great—I ask you to interpret this, I do not say in a 
+manner consistent with the eternal and unchangeable nature which 
+alone is God, but only in a manner consistent with the doctrine 
+concerning the soul of the world and its parts, which ye think to be the 
+true gods. It is a somewhat more tolerable thing that ye have made that 
+part of the soul of the world which pervades the sea your god Neptune. 
+
+
+Is the wave, then, which comes to the shore and returns to the main, two 
+parts of the world, or two parts of the soul of the world? Who of you is 
+so silly as to think so? Why, then, have they made to you two goddesses? 
+The only reason seems to be, that your wise ancestors have provided, not 
+that many gods should rule you, but that many of such demons as are 
+delighted with those vanities and falsehoods should possess you. But 
+why has that Salacia, according to this interpretation, lost the lower part 
+of the sea, seeing that she was represented as subject to her husband? 
+For in saying that she is the receding wave, ye have put her on the 
+surface. Was she enraged at her husband for taking Venilia as a 
+concubine, and thus drove him from the upper part of the sea? 
+
+
+23. Concerning the earth, which Varro affirms to be a goddess, because that soul of the world 
+which he thinks to be God pervades also this lowest part of his body, and imparts to it a divine 
+
+
+force 
+
+
+Surely the earth, which we see full of its own living creatures, is one; 
+but for all that, it is but a mighty mass among the elements, and the 
+lowest part of the world. Why, then, would they have it to be a goddess? 
+Is it because it is fruitful? Why, then, are not men rather held to be gods, 
+who render it fruitful by cultivating it; but though they plough it, do not 
+adore it? But, say they, the part of the soul of the world which pervades 
+it makes it a goddess. As if it were not a far more evident thing, nay, a 
+thing which is not called in question, that there is a soul in man. And yet 
+men are not held to be gods, but (a thing to be sadly lamented), with 
+wonderful and pitiful delusion, are subjected to those who are not gods, 
+and than whom they themselves are better, as the objects of deserved 
+worship and adoration. And certainly the same Varro, in the book 
+concerning the select gods, affirms that there are three grades of soul in 
+universal nature. One which pervades all the living parts of the body, 
+and has not sensation, but only the power of life—that principle which 
+penetrates into the bones, nails, and hair. By this principle in the world 
+trees are nourished, and grow without being possessed of sensation, and 
+live in a manner peculiar to themselves. The second grade of soul is that 
+in which there is sensation. This principle penetrates into the eyes, ears, 
+nostrils, mouth, and the organs of sensation. The third grade of soul is 
+the highest, and is called mind, where intelligence has its throne. This 
+grade of soul no mortal creatures except man are possessed of. Now this 
+
+
+part of the soul of the world, Varro says, is called God, and in us is 
+called Genius. And the stones and earth in the world, which we see, and 
+which are not pervaded by the power of sensation, are, as it were, the 
+bones and nails of God. Again, the sun, moon, and stars, which we 
+perceive, and by which He perceives, are His organs of perception. 
+Moreover, the ether is His mind; and by the virtue which is in it, which 
+penetrates into the stars, it also makes them gods; and because it 
+penetrates through them into the earth, it makes the goddess Tellus, 
+whence again it enters and permeates the sea and ocean, making them 
+the god Neptune. 
+
+Let him return from this, which he thinks to be natural theology, back 
+to that from which he went out, in order to rest from the fatigue 
+occasioned by the many turnings and windings of his path. Let him 
+return, I say, let him return to the civil theology. I wish to detain him 
+there a while. I have somewhat to say which has to do with that 
+theology. I am not yet saying, that if the earth and stones are similar to 
+our bones and nails, they are in like manner devoid of intelligence, as 
+they are devoid of sensation. Nor am I saying that, if our bones and nails 
+are said to have intelligence, because they are in a man who has 
+intelligence, he who says that the things analogous to these in the world 
+are gods, is as stupid as he is who says that our bones and nails are men. 
+We shall perhaps have occasion to dispute these things with the 
+philosophers. At present, however, I wish to deal with Varro as a 
+political theologian. For it is possible that, though he may seem to have 
+wished to lift up his head, as it were, into the liberty of natural theology, 
+the consciousness that the book with which he was occupied was one 
+concerning a subject belonging to civil theology, may have caused him 
+to relapse into the point of view of that theology, and to say this in order 
+that the ancestors of his nation, and other states, might not be believed 
+to have bestowed on Neptune an irrational worship. What I am to say is 
+this: Since the earth is one, why has not that part of the soul of the 
+world which permeates the earth made it that one goddess which he 
+calls Tellus? But had it done so, what then had become of Orcus, the 
+brother of Jupiter and Neptune, whom they call Father Dis?33 And 
+where, in that case, had been his wife Proserpine, who, according to 
+another opinion given in the same book, is called, not the fecundity of 
+the earth, but its lower part?34 But if they say that part of the soul of the 
+
+
+world, when it permeates the upper part of the earth, makes the god 
+Father Dis, but when it pervades the nether part of the same the goddess 
+Proserpine; what, in that case, will that Tellus be? For all that which she 
+was has been divided into these two parts, and these two gods; so that it 
+is impossible to find what to make or where to place her as a third 
+goddess, except it be said that those divinities Orcus and Proserpine are 
+the one goddess Tellus, and that they are not three gods, but one or two, 
+whilst notwithstanding they are called three, held to be three, 
+worshipped as three, having their own several altars, their own shrines, 
+rites, images, priests, whilst their own false demons also through these 
+things defile the prostituted soul. Let this further question be answered: 
+What part of the earth does a part of the soul of the world permeate in 
+order to make the god Tellumo? No, says he; but the earth being one and 
+the same, has a double life—the masculine, which produces seed, and 
+the feminine, which receives and nourishes the seed. Hence it has been 
+called Tellus from the feminine principle, and Tellumo from the 
+masculine. Why, then, do the priests, as he indicates, perform divine 
+service to four gods, two others being added—namely, to Tellus, 
+Tellumo, Altor, and Rusor? We have already spoken concerning Tellus 
+and Tellumo. But why do they worship Altor?35 Because, says he, all that 
+springs of the earth is nourished by the earth. Wherefore do they 
+worship Rusor?36 Because all things return back again to the place 
+whence they proceeded. 
+
+
+24. Concerning the surnames of Tellus and their significations, which, although they indicate many 
+properties, ought not to have established the opinion that there is a corresponding number of 
+gods 
+
+
+The one earth, then, on account of this fourfold virtue, ought to have 
+had four surnames, but not to have been considered as four gods—as 
+Jupiter and Juno, though they have so many surnames, are for all that 
+only single deities—for by all these surnames it is signified that a 
+manifold virtue belongs to one god or to one goddess; but the multitude 
+of surnames does not imply a multitude of gods. But as sometimes even 
+the vilest women themselves grow tired of those crowds which they have 
+sought after under the impulse of wicked passion, so also the soul, 
+become vile, and prostituted to impure spirits, sometimes begins to 
+loathe to multiply to itself gods to whom to surrender itself to be 
+
+
+polluted by them, as much as it once delighted in so doing. For Varro 
+himself, as if ashamed of that crowd of gods, would make Tellus to be 
+one goddess. “They say,” says he, “that whereas the one great mother 
+has a tympanum, it is signified that she is the orb of the earth; whereas 
+she has towers on her head, towns are signified; and whereas seats are 
+fixed round about her, it is signified that whilst all things move, she 
+moves not. And their having made the Galli to serve this goddess, 
+signifies that they who are in need of seed ought to follow the earth, for 
+in it all seeds are found. By their throwing themselves down before her, 
+it is taught,” he says, “that they who cultivate the earth should not sit 
+idle, for there is always something for them to do. The sound of the 
+cymbals signifies the noise made by the throwing of iron utensils, and by 
+men’s hands, and all other noises connected with agricultural operations; 
+and these cymbals are of brass, because the ancients used brazen utensils 
+in their agriculture before iron was discovered. They place beside the 
+goddess an unbound and tame lion, to show that there is no kind of land 
+so wild and so excessively barren as that it would be profitless to 
+attempt to bring it in and cultivate it.” Then he adds that, because they 
+gave many names and surnames to mother Tellus, it came to be thought 
+that these signified many gods. “They think,” says he, “that Tellus is 
+Ops, because the earth is improved by labour; Mother, because it brings 
+forth much; Great, because it brings forth seed; Proserpine, because 
+fruits creep forth from it; Vesta, because it is invested with herbs. And 
+thus,” says he, “they not at all absurdly identify other goddesses with the 
+earth.” If, then, it is one goddess (though, if the truth were consulted, it 
+is not even that), why do they nevertheless separate it into many? Let 
+there be many names of one goddess, and let there not be as many 
+goddesses as there are names. 
+
+But the authority of the erring ancients weighs heavily on Varro, and 
+compels him, after having expressed this opinion, to show signs of 
+uneasiness; for he immediately adds, “With which things the opinion of 
+the ancients, who thought that there were really many goddesses, does 
+not conflict.” How does it not conflict, when it is entirely a different 
+thing to say that one goddess has many names, and to say that there are 
+many goddesses? But it is possible, he says, that the same thing may 
+both be one, and yet have in it a plurality of things. I grant that there are 
+many things in one man; are there therefore in him many men? In like 
+
+
+manner, in one goddess there are many things; are there therefore also 
+many goddesses? But let them divide, unite, multiply, reduplicate, and 
+implicate as they like. 
+
+These are the famous mysteries of Tellus and the Great Mother, all of 
+which are shown to have reference to mortal seeds and to agriculture. 
+Do these things, then—namely, the tympanum, the towers, the Galli, the 
+tossing to and fro of limbs, the noise of cymbals, the images of lions—do 
+these things, having this reference and this end, promise eternal life? Do 
+the mutilated Galli, then, serve this Great Mother in order to signify that 
+they who are in need of seed should follow the earth, as though it were 
+not rather the case that this very service caused them to want seed? For 
+whether do they, by following this goddess, acquire seed, being in want 
+of it, or, by following her, lose seed when they have it? Is this to 
+interpret or to deprecate? Nor is it considered to what a degree malign 
+demons have gained the upper hand, inasmuch as they have been able to 
+exact such cruel rites without having dared to promise any great things 
+in return for them. Had the earth not been a goddess, men would have, 
+by labouring, laid their hands on it in order to obtain seed through it, 
+and would not have laid violent hands on themselves in order to lose 
+seed on account of it. Had it not been a goddess, it would have become 
+so fertile by the hands of others, that it would not have compelled a man 
+to be rendered barren by his own hands; nor that in the festival of Liber 
+an honourable matron put a wreath on the private parts of a man in the 
+sight of the multitude, where perhaps her husband was standing by 
+blushing and perspiring, if there is any shame left in men; and that in 
+the celebration of marriages the newly-married bride was ordered to sit 
+upon Priapus. These things are bad enough, but they are small and 
+contemptible in comparison with that most cruel abomination, or most 
+abominable cruelty, by which either set is so deluded that neither 
+perishes of its wound. There the enchantment of fields is feared; here the 
+amputation of members is not feared. There the modesty of the bride is 
+outraged, but in such a manner as that neither her fruitfulness nor even 
+her virginity is taken away; here a man is so mutilated that he is neither 
+changed into a woman nor remains a man. 
+
+
+25. The interpretation of the mutilation of Atys which the doctrine of the Greek sages set forth 
+
+
+Varro has not spoken of that Atys, nor sought out any interpretation 
+
+
+for him, in memory of whose being loved by Ceres the Gallus is 
+mutilated. But the learned and wise Greeks have by no means been silent 
+about an interpretation so holy and so illustrious. The celebrated 
+philosopher Porphyry has said that Atys signifies the flowers of spring, 
+which is the most beautiful season, and therefore was mutilated because 
+the flower falls before the fruit appears.37 They have not, then, 
+compared the man himself, or rather that semblance of a man they 
+called Atys, to the flower, but his male organs—these, indeed, fell whilst 
+he was living. Did I say fell? nay, truly they did not fall, nor were they 
+plucked off, but torn away. Nor when that flower was lost did any fruit 
+follow, but rather sterility. What, then, do they say is signified by the 
+castrated Atys himself, and whatever remained to him after his 
+castration? To what do they refer that? What interpretation does that 
+give rise to? Do they, after vain endeavours to discover an 
+interpretation, seek to persuade men that that is rather to be believed 
+which report has made public, and which has also been written 
+concerning his having been a mutilated man? Our Varro has very 
+properly opposed this, and has been unwilling to state it; for it certainly 
+was not unknown to that most learned man. 
+
+
+26. Concerning the abomination of the sacred rites of the Great Mother 
+
+
+Concerning the effeminates consecrated to the same Great Mother, in 
+defiance of all the modesty which belongs to men and women, Varro has 
+not wished to say anything, nor do I remember to have read anywhere 
+aught concerning them. These effeminates, no later than yesterday, were 
+going through the streets and places of Carthage with anointed hair, 
+whitened faces, relaxed bodies, and feminine gait, exacting from the 
+people the means of maintaining their ignominious lives. Nothing has 
+been said concerning them. Interpretation failed, reason blushed, speech 
+was silent. The Great Mother has surpassed all her sons, not in greatness 
+of deity, but of crime. To this monster not even the monstrosity of Janus 
+is to be compared. His deformity was only in his image; hers was the 
+deformity of cruelty in her sacred rites. He has a redundancy of members 
+in stone images; she inflicts the loss of members on men. This 
+abomination is not surpassed by the licentious deeds of Jupiter, so many 
+and so great. He, with all his seductions of women, only disgraced 
+heaven with one Ganymede; she, with so many avowed and public 
+
+
+effeminates, has both defiled the earth and outraged heaven. Perhaps we 
+may either compare Saturn to this Magna Mater, or even set him before 
+her in this kind of abominable cruelty, for he mutilated his father. But at 
+the festivals of Saturn men could rather be slain by the hands of others 
+than mutilated by their own. He devoured his sons, as the poets say, and 
+the natural theologists interpret this as they list. History says he slew 
+them. But the Romans never received, like the Carthaginians, the custom 
+of sacrificing their sons to him. This Great Mother of the gods, however, 
+has brought mutilated men into Roman temples, and has preserved that 
+cruel custom, being believed to promote the strength of the Romans by 
+emasculating their men. Compared with this evil, what are the thefts of 
+Mercury, the wantonness of Venus, and the base and flagitious deeds of 
+the rest of them, which we might bring forward from books, were it not 
+that they are daily sung and danced in the theatres? But what are these 
+things to so great an evil—an evil whose magnitude was only 
+proportioned to the greatness of the Great Mother—especially as these 
+are said to have been invented by the poets? as if the poets had also 
+invented this, that they are acceptable to the gods. Let it be imputed, 
+then, to the audacity and impudence of the poets that these things have 
+been sung and written of. But that they have been incorporated into the 
+body of divine rites and honours, the deities themselves demanding and 
+extorting that incorporation, what is that but the crime of the gods? nay 
+more, the confession of demons and the deception of wretched men? But 
+as to this, that the Great Mother is considered to be worshipped in the 
+appropriate form when she is worshipped by the consecration of 
+mutilated men, this is not an invention of the poets, nay, they have 
+rather shrunk from it with horror than sung of it. Ought any one, then, 
+to be consecrated to these select gods, that he may live blessedly after 
+death, consecrated to whom he could not live decently before death, 
+being subjected to such foul supersitions, and bound over to unclean 
+demons? But all these things, says Varro, are to be referred to the 
+world.38 Let him consider if it be not rather to the unclean.3? But why 
+not refer that to the world which is demonstrated to be in the world? 
+We, however, seek for a mind which, trusting to true religion, does not 
+adore the world as its god, but for the sake of God praises the world as a 
+work of God, and, purified from mundane defilements, comes pure?° to 
+God Himself who founded the world.41 
+
+
+27. Concerning the figments of the physical theologists, who neither worship the true divinity, nor 
+perform the worship wherewith the true divinity should be served 
+
+
+We see that these select gods have, indeed, become more famous than 
+the rest; not, however, that their merits may be brought to light, but that 
+their opprobrious deeds may not be hid. Whence it is more credible that 
+they were men, as not only poetic but also historical literature has 
+handed down. For this which Virgil says, 
+
+
+“Then from Olympus’ heights came down 
+Good Saturn, exiled from his throne 
+
+
+By Jove, his mightier heir;”42 
+
+
+and what follows with reference to this affair, is fully related by the 
+historian, Euhemerus, and has been translated into Latin by Ennius. And 
+as they who have written before us in the Greek or in the Latin tongue 
+against such errors as these have said much concerning this matter, I 
+have thought it unnecessary to dwell upon it. When I consider those 
+physical reasons, then, by which learned and acute men attempt to turn 
+human things into divine things, all I see is that they have been able to 
+refer these things only to temporal works and to that which has a 
+corporeal nature, and even though invisible still mutable; and this is by 
+no means the true God. But if this worship had been performed as the 
+symbolism of ideas at least congruous with religion, though it would 
+indeed have been cause of grief that the true God was not announced 
+and proclaimed by its symbolism, nevertheless it could have been in 
+some degree borne with, when it did not occasion and command the 
+performance of such foul and abominable things. But since it is impiety 
+to worship the body or the soul for the true God, by whose indwelling 
+alone the soul is happy, how much more impious is it to worship those 
+things through which neither soul nor body can obtain either salvation 
+or human honour? Wherefore if with temple, priest, and sacrifice, which 
+are due to the true God, any element of the world be worshipped, or any 
+created spirit, even though not impure and evil, that worship is still evil, 
+not because the things are evil by which the worship is performed, but 
+because those things ought only to be used in the worship of Him to 
+whom alone such worship and service are due. But if any one insist that 
+he worships the one true God—that is, the Creator of every soul and of 
+
+
+every body—with stupid and monstrous idols, with human victims, with 
+putting a wreath on the male organ, with the wages of unchastity, with 
+the cutting of limbs, with emasculation, with the consecration of 
+effeminates, with impure and obscene plays, such a one does not sin 
+because he worships One who ought not to be worshipped, but because 
+he worships Him who ought to be worshipped in a way in which He 
+ought not to be worshipped. But he who worships with such things—that 
+is, foul and obscene things—and that not the true God, namely, the 
+maker of soul and body, but a creature, even though not a wicked 
+creature, whether it be soul or body, or soul and body together, twice 
+sins against God, because he both worships for God what is not God, and 
+also worships with such things as neither God nor what is not God ought 
+to be worshipped with. It is, indeed, manifest how these pagans worship 
+—that is, how shamefully and criminally they worship; but what or 
+whom they worship would have been left in obscurity, had not their 
+history testified that those same confessedly base and foul rites were 
+rendered in obedience to the demands of the gods, who exacted them 
+with terrible severity. Wherefore it is evident beyond doubt that this 
+whole civil theology is occupied in inventing means for attracting 
+wicked and most impure spirits, inviting them to visit senseless images, 
+and through these to take possession of stupid hearts. 
+
+
+28. That the doctrine of Varro concerning theology is in no part consistent with itself 
+
+
+To what purpose, then, is it that this most learned and most acute man 
+Varro attempts, as it were, with subtle disputation, to reduce and refer 
+all these gods to heaven and earth? He cannot do it. They go out of his 
+hands like water; they shrink back; they slip down and fall. For when 
+about to speak of the females, that is, the goddesses, he says, “Since, as I 
+observed in the first book concerning places, heaven and earth are the 
+two origins of the gods, on which account they are called celestials and 
+terrestrials, and as I began in the former books with heaven, speaking of 
+Janus, whom some have said to be heaven, and others the earth, so I 
+now commence with Tellus in speaking concerning the goddesses.” I can 
+understand what embarrassment so great a mind was experiencing. For 
+he is influenced by the perception of a certain plausible resemblance, 
+when he says that the heaven is that which does, and the earth that 
+which suffers, and therefore attributes the masculine principle to the 
+
+
+one, and the feminine to the other—not considering that it is rather He 
+who made both heaven and earth who is the maker of both activity and 
+passivity. On this principle he interprets the celebrated mysteries of the 
+Samothracians, and promises, with an air of great devoutness, that he 
+will by writing expound these mysteries, which have not been so much 
+as known to his countrymen, and will send them his exposition. Then he 
+says that he had from many proofs gathered that, in those mysteries, 
+among the images one signifies heaven, another the earth, another the 
+patterns of things, which Plato calls ideas. He makes Jupiter to signify 
+heaven, Juno the earth, Minerva the ideas. Heaven, by which anything is 
+made; the earth, from which it is made; and the pattern, according to 
+which it is made. But, with respect to the last, I am forgetting to say that 
+Plato attributed so great an importance to these ideas as to say, not that 
+anything was made by heaven according to them, but that according to 
+them heaven itself was made.4*3 To return, however—it is to be observed 
+that Varro has, in the book on the select gods, lost that theory of these 
+gods, in whom he has, as it were, embraced all things. For he assigns the 
+male gods to heaven, the females to earth; among which latter he has 
+placed Minerva, whom he had before placed above heaven itself. Then 
+the male god Neptune is in the sea, which pertains rather to earth than 
+to heaven. Last of all, father Dis, who is called in Greek Mħoótov, another 
+male god, brother of both (Jupiter and Neptune), is also held to be a god 
+of the earth, holding the upper region of the earth himself, and allotting 
+the nether region to his wife Proserpine. How, then, do they attempt to 
+refer the gods to heaven, and the goddesses to earth? What solidity, 
+what consistency, what sobriety has this disputation? But that Tellus is 
+the origin of the goddesses—the great mother, to wit, beside whom there 
+is continually the noise of the mad and abominable revelry of 
+effeminates and mutilated men, and men who cut themselves, and 
+indulge in frantic gesticulations—how is it, then, that Janus is called the 
+head of the gods, and Tellus the head of the goddesses? In the one case 
+error does not make one head, and in the other frenzy does not make a 
+sane one. Why do they vainly attempt to refer these to the world? Even 
+if they could do so, no pious person worships the world for the true God. 
+Nevertheless, plain truth makes it evident that they are not able even to 
+do this. Let them rather identify them with dead men and most wicked 
+demons, and no further question will remain. 
+
+
+29. That all things which the physical theologists have referred to the world and its parts, they 
+ought to have referred to the one true God 
+
+
+For all those things which, according to the account given of those 
+gods, are referred to the world by so-called physical interpretation, may, 
+without any religious scruple, be rather assigned to the true God, who 
+made heaven and earth, and created every soul and every body; and the 
+following is the manner in which we see that this may be done. We 
+worship God—not heaven and earth, of which two parts this world 
+consists, nor the soul or souls diffused through all living things—but God 
+who made heaven and earth, and all things which are in them; who 
+made every soul, whatever be the nature of its life, whether it have life 
+without sensation and reason, or life with sensation, or life with both 
+sensation and reason. 
+
+
+30. How piety distinguishes the Creator from the creatures, so that, instead of one God, there are 
+not worshipped as many gods as there are works of the one author 
+
+
+And now, to begin to go over those works of the one true God, on 
+account of which these have made to themselves many and false gods, 
+whilst they attempt to give an honourable interpretation to their many 
+most abominable and most infamous mysteries—we worship that God 
+who has appointed to the natures created by Him both the beginnings 
+and the end of their existing and moving; who holds, knows, and 
+disposes the causes of things; who hath created the virtue of seeds; who 
+hath given to what creatures He would a rational soul, which is called 
+mind; who hath bestowed the faculty and use of speech; who hath 
+imparted the gift of foretelling future things to whatever spirits it 
+seemed to Him good; who also Himself predicts future things, through 
+whom He pleases, and through whom He will remove diseases; who, 
+when the human race is to be corrected and chastised by wars, regulates 
+also the beginnings, progress, and ends of these wars; who hath created 
+and governs the most vehement and most violent fire of this world, in 
+due relation and proportion to the other elements of immense nature; 
+who is the governor of all the waters; who hath made the sun brightest 
+of all material lights, and hath given him suitable power and motion; 
+who hath not withdrawn, even from the inhabitants of the nether world, 
+His dominion and power; who hath appointed to mortal natures their 
+suitable seed and nourishment, dry or liquid; who establishes and makes 
+
+
+fruitful the earth; who bountifully bestows its fruits on animals and on 
+men; who knows and ordains, not only principal causes, but also 
+subsequent causes; who hath determined for the moon her motion; who 
+affords ways in heaven and on earth for passage from one place to 
+another; who hath granted also to human minds, which He hath created, 
+the knowledge of the various arts for the help of life and nature; who 
+hath appointed the union of male and female for the propagation of 
+offspring; who hath favoured the societies of men with the gift of 
+terrestrial fire for the simplest and most familiar purposes, to burn on 
+the hearth and to give light. These are, then, the things which that most 
+acute and most learned man Varro has laboured to distribute among the 
+select gods, by I know not what physical interpretation, which he has got 
+from other sources, and also conjectured for himself. But these things the 
+one true God makes and does, but as the same God—that is, as He who is 
+wholly everywhere, included in no space, bound by no chains, mutable 
+in no part of His being, filling heaven and earth with omnipresent 
+power, not with a needy nature. Therefore He governs all things in such 
+a manner as to allow them to perform and exercise their own proper 
+movements. For although they can be nothing without Him, they are not 
+what He is. He does also many things through angels; but only from 
+Himself does He beatify angels. So also, though He send angels to men 
+for certain purposes, He does not for all that beatify men by the good 
+inherent in the angels, but by Himself, as He does the angels themselves. 
+
+
+31. What benefits God gives to the followers of the truth to enjoy over and above His general 
+bounty 
+
+
+For, besides such benefits as, according to this administration of 
+nature of which we have made some mention, He lavishes on good and 
+bad alike, we have from Him a great manifestation of great love, which 
+belongs only to the good. For although we can never sufficiently give 
+thanks to Him, that we are, that we live, that we behold heaven and 
+earth, that we have mind and reason by which to seek after Him who 
+made all these things, nevertheless, what hearts, what number of 
+tongues, shall affirm that they are sufficient to render thanks to Him for 
+this, that He hath not wholly departed from us, laden and overwhelmed 
+with sins, averse to the contemplation of His light, and blinded by the 
+love of darkness, that is, of iniquity, but hath sent to us His own Word, 
+
+
+who is His only Son, that by His birth and suffering for us in the flesh, 
+which He assumed, we might know how much God valued man, and 
+that by that unique sacrifice we might be purified from all our sins, and 
+that, love being shed abroad in our hearts by His Spirit, we might, 
+having surmounted all difficulties, come into eternal rest, and the 
+ineffable sweetness of the contemplation of Himself? 
+
+
+32. That at no time in the past was the mystery of Christ’s redemption awanting, but was at all 
+
+
+times declared, though in various forms 
+
+
+This mystery of eternal life, even from the beginning of the human 
+race, was, by certain signs and sacraments suitable to the times, 
+announced through angels to those to whom it was meet. Then the 
+Hebrew people was congregated into one republic, as it were, to perform 
+this mystery; and in that republic was foretold, sometimes through men 
+who understood what they spake, and sometimes through men who 
+understood not, all that had transpired since the advent of Christ until 
+now, and all that will transpire. This same nation, too, was afterwards 
+dispersed through the nations, in order to testify to the scriptures in 
+which eternal salvation in Christ had been declared. For not only the 
+prophecies which are contained in words, nor only the precepts for the 
+right conduct of life, which teach morals and piety, and are contained in 
+the sacred writings—not only these, but also the rites, priesthood, 
+tabernacle or temple, altars, sacrifices, ceremonies, and whatever else 
+belongs to that service which is due to God, and which in Greek is 
+properly called 4«*peia_all these signified and fore-announced those 
+things which we who believe in Jesus Christ unto eternal life believe to 
+have been fulfilled, or behold in process of fulfilment, or confidently 
+believe shall yet be fulfilled. 
+
+
+33. That only through the Christian religion could the deceit of malign spirits, who rejoice in the 
+
+
+errors of men, have been manifested 
+
+
+This, the only true religion, has alone been able to manifest that the 
+gods of the nations are most impure demons, who desire to be thought 
+gods, availing themselves of the names of certain defunct souls, or the 
+appearance of mundane creatures, and with proud impurity rejoicing in 
+things most base and infamous, as though in divine honours, and 
+envying human souls their conversion to the true God. From whose most 
+
+
+cruel and most impious dominion a man is liberated when he believes on 
+Him who has afforded an example of humility, following which men 
+may rise as great as was that pride by which they fell. Hence are not 
+only those gods, concerning whom we have already spoken much, and 
+many others belonging to different nations and lands, but also those of 
+whom we are now treating, who have been selected as it were into the 
+senate of the gods—selected, however, on account of the notoriousness 
+of their crimes, not on account of the dignity of their virtues—whose 
+sacred things Varro attempts to refer to certain natural reasons, seeking 
+to make base things honourable, but cannot find how to square and 
+agree with these reasons, because these are not the causes of those rites, 
+which he thinks, or rather wishes to be thought to be so. For had not 
+only these, but also all others of this kind, been real causes, even though 
+they had nothing to do with the true God and eternal life, which is to be 
+sought in religion, they would, by affording some sort of reason drawn 
+from the nature of things, have mitigated in some degree that offence 
+which was occasioned by some turpitude or absurdity in the sacred rites, 
+which was not understood. This he attempted to do in respect to certain 
+fables of the theatres, or mysteries of the shrines; but he did not acquit 
+the theatres of likeness to the shrines, but rather condemned the shrines 
+for likeness to the theatres. However, he in some way made the attempt 
+to soothe the feelings shocked by horrible things, by rendering what he 
+would have to be natural interpretations. 
+
+
+34. Concerning the books of Numa Pompilius, which the senate ordered to be burned, in order that 
+
+
+the causes of sacred rites therein assigned should not become known 
+
+
+But, on the other hand, we find, as the same most learned man has 
+related, that the causes of the sacred rites which were given from the 
+books of Numa Pompilius could by no means be tolerated, and were 
+considered unworthy, not only to become known to the religious by 
+being read, but even to lie written in the darkness in which they had 
+been concealed. For now let me say what I promised in the third book of 
+this work to say in its proper place. For, as we read in the same Varro’s 
+book on the worship of the gods, “A certain one Terentius had a field at 
+the Janiculum, and once, when his ploughman was passing the plough 
+near to the tomb of Numa Pompilius, he turned up from the ground the 
+books of Numa, in which were written the causes of the sacred 
+
+
+institutions; which books he carried to the prætor, who, having read the 
+beginnings of them, referred to the senate what seemed to be a matter of 
+so much importance. And when the chief senators had read certain of 
+the causes why this or that rite was instituted, the senate assented to the 
+dead Numa, and the conscript fathers, as though concerned for the 
+interests of religion, ordered the pretor to burn the books.”44 Let each 
+one believe what he thinks; nay, let every champion of such impiety say 
+whatever mad contention may suggest. For my part, let it suffice to 
+suggest that the causes of those sacred things which were written down 
+by King Numa Pompilius, the institutor of the Roman rites, ought never 
+to have become known to people or senate, or even to the priests 
+themselves; and also that Numa himself attained to these secrets of 
+demons by an illicit curiosity, in order that he might write them down, 
+so as to be able, by reading, to be reminded of them. However, though 
+he was king, and had no cause to be afraid of any one, he neither dared 
+to teach them to any one, nor to destroy them by obliteration, or any 
+other form of destruction. Therefore, because he was unwilling that any 
+one should know them, lest men should be taught infamous things, and 
+because he was afraid to violate them, lest he should enrage the demons 
+against himself, he buried them in what he thought a safe place, 
+believing that a plough could not approach his sepulchre. But the senate, 
+fearing to condemn the religious solemnities of their ancestors, and 
+therefore compelled to assent to Numa, were nevertheless so convinced 
+that those books were pernicious, that they did not order them to be 
+buried again, knowing that human curiosity would thereby be excited to 
+seek with far greater eagerness after the matter already divulged, but 
+ordered the scandalous relics to be destroyed with fire; because, as they 
+thought it was now a necessity to perform those sacred rites, they judged 
+that the error arising from ignorance of their causes was more tolerable 
+than the disturbance which the knowledge of them would occasion the 
+state. 
+
+
+35. Concerning the hydromancy through which Numa was befooled by certain images of demons 
+
+
+seen in the water 
+
+
+For Numa himself also, to whom no prophet of God, no holy angel was 
+sent, was driven to have recourse to hydromancy, that he might see the 
+images of the gods in the water (or, rather, appearances whereby the 
+
+
+demons made sport of him), and might learn from them what he ought 
+to ordain and observe in the sacred rites. This kind of divination, says 
+Varro, was introduced from the Persians, and was used by Numa 
+himself, and at an after time by the philosopher Pythagoras. In this 
+divination, he says, they also inquire at the inhabitants of the nether 
+world, and make use of blood; and this the Greeks call vexponavtelavy, But 
+whether it be called necromancy or hydromancy it is the same thing, for 
+in either case the dead are supposed to foretell future things. But by 
+what artifices these things are done, let themselves consider; for I am 
+unwilling to say that these artifices were wont to be prohibited by the 
+laws, and to be very severely punished even in the Gentile states, before 
+the advent of our Saviour. I am unwilling, I say, to affirm this, for 
+perhaps even such things were then allowed. However, it was by these 
+arts that Pompilius learned those sacred rites which he gave forth as 
+facts, whilst he concealed their causes; for even he himself was afraid of 
+that which he had learned. The senate also caused the books in which 
+those causes were recorded to be burned. What is it, then, to me, that 
+Varro attempts to adduce all sorts of fanciful physical interpretations, 
+which if these books had contained, they would certainly not have been 
+burned? For otherwise the conscript fathers would also have burned 
+those books which Varro published and dedicated to the high priest 
+Cesar.45 Now Numa is said to have married the nymph Egeria, because 
+(as Varro explains it in the forementioned book) he carried forth+© water 
+wherewith to perform his hydromancy. Thus facts are wont to be 
+converted into fables through false colourings. It was by that 
+hydromancy, then, that that over-curious Roman king learned both the 
+sacred rites which were to be written in the books of the priests, and also 
+the causes of those rites—which latter, however, he was unwilling that 
+any one besides himself should know. Wherefore he made these causes, 
+as it were, to die along with himself, taking care to have them written by 
+themselves, and removed from the knowledge of men by being buried in 
+the earth. Wherefore the things which are written in those books were 
+either abominations of demons, so foul and noxious as to render that 
+whole civil theology execrable even in the eyes of such men as those 
+senators, who had accepted so many shameful things in the sacred rites 
+themselves, or they were nothing else than the accounts of dead men, 
+whom, through the lapse of ages, almost all the Gentile nations had 
+
+
+come to believe to be immortal gods; whilst those same demons were 
+delighted even with such rites, having presented themselves to receive 
+worship under pretence of being those very dead men whom they had 
+caused to be thought immortal gods by certain fallacious miracles, 
+performed in order to establish that belief. But, by the hidden 
+providence of the true God, these demons were permitted to confess 
+these things to their friend Numa, having been gained by those arts 
+through which necromancy could be performed, and yet were not 
+constrained to admonish him rather at his death to burn than to bury the 
+books in which they were written. But, in order that these books might 
+be unknown, the demons could not resist the plough by which they were 
+thrown up, or the pen of Varro, through which the things which were 
+done in reference to this matter have come down even to our 
+knowledge. For they are not able to effect anything which they are not 
+allowed; but they are permitted to influence those whom God, in His 
+deep and just judgment, according to their deserts, gives over either to 
+be simply afflicted by them, or to be also subdued and deceived. But 
+how pernicious these writings were judged to be, or how alien from the 
+worship of the true Divinity, may be understood from the fact that the 
+senate preferred to burn what Pompilius had hid, rather than to fear 
+what he feared, so that he could not dare to do that. Wherefore let him 
+who does not desire to live a pious life even now, seek eternal life by 
+means of such rites. But let him who does not wish to have fellowship 
+with malign demons have no fear for the noxious superstition wherewith 
+they are worshipped, but let him recognise the true religion by which 
+they are unmasked and vanquished. 
+
+
+1Tert. Apol. 13, “Nec electio sine reprobatione;” and Ad Nationes, ii. 9, “Si dei ut bulbi seliguntur, 
+
+
+qui non seliguntur, reprobi pronuntiantur.” 
+
+2Cicero, De Nat. Deor. ii., distinguishes this Liber from Liber Bacchus, son of Jupiter and Semele. 
+3 Januam. 
+
+4 Vivificator. 
+
+° Sensificator. 
+
+© As we say, “right-minded.” 
+
+7 Ch. 21, 23. 
+
+
+8 The father Saturn, and the mother Ops, e.g., being more obscure than their son Jupiter and 
+
+
+daughter Juno. 
+
+9 Sallust, Cat. Conj. ch. 8. 
+
+10 Vicus argentarius. 
+
+11 Virgil, Aineid, viii. 357, 358. 
+12 Quadrifrons. 
+
+13 Frons. 
+
+
+14 “Quanto iste innocentior esset, tanto frontosior appareret;” being used for the shamelessness of 
+
+
+innocence, as we use “face” for the shamelessness of impudence. 
+15 Cicero, Tusc. Quest. v. 13. 
+
+
+16 An interesting account of the changes made in the Roman year by Numa is given in Plutarch’s 
+life of that king. Ovid also (Fasti, ii.) explains the derivation of February, telling us that it was the 
+last month of the old year, and took its name from the lusctrations performed then: “Februa 
+
+
+Romani dixere piamina patres.” 
+
+17 Ennius, in Cicero, De Nat. Deor. ii. 18. 
+
+18 John x. 9. 
+
+19 Georgic. ii. 470. 
+
+20 Summa, which also includes the meaning “last.” 
+
+21 Virgil, Eclog. iii. 60, who borrows the expression from the Phenomena of Aratus. 
+22 Soranus lived about B.C. 100. See Smith’s Dict. 
+
+23 Tigillus. 
+
+24 Ruma. 
+
+
+25 “Pecunia,” that is, property; the original meaning of “pecunia” being property in cattle, then 
+
+
+property or wealth of any kind. Comp. Augustine, De discipl. Christ. 6. 
+26 Sallust, Catil. c. 11. 
+
+27 Quasi medius currens. 
+
+28 Nuncius. 
+
+29 Enunciantur. 
+
+30 Ccelo. 
+
+31 Coelum. 
+
+32 Sc. Xoóvoş, 
+
+33 See c. 16. 
+
+
+34 Varro. De Ling. Lat. v. 68. 
+
+
+35 Nourisher. 
+
+36 Returner. 
+
+37 In the book De Ratione Naturali Deorum. 
+38 Mundum. 
+
+39 Immundum. 
+
+40 Mundus. 
+
+41 Mundum. 
+
+42 Virgil, Aineid, viii. 319-20. 
+43 In the Timeaus. 
+
+44 Plutarch’s Numa; Livy, xl. 29. 
+45 Comp. Lactantius, Instit. i. 6. 
+
+
+46 Egesserit. 
+
+
+BOOK EIGHTH 
+
+
+ARGUMENT 
+
+
+AUGUSTINE COMES NOW TO THE THIRD KIND OF THEOLOGY, THAT IS, THE NATURAL, AND TAKES UP THE 
+QUESTION, WHETHER THE WORSHIP OF THE GODS OF THE NATURAL THEOLOGY IS OF ANY AVAIL TOWARDS 
+SECURING BLESSEDNESS IN THE LIFE TO COME. THIS QUESTION HE PREFERS TO DISCUSS WITH THE PLATONISTS, 
+BECAUSE THE PLATONIC SYSTEM IS “FACILE PRINCEPS” AMONG PHILOSOPHIES, AND MAKES THE NEAREST 
+APPROXIMATION TO CHRISTIAN TRUTH. IN PURSUING THIS ARGUMENT, HE FIRST REFUTES APULEIUS, AND ALL 
+WHO MAINTAIN THAT THE DEMONS SHOULD BE WORSHIPPED AS MESSENGERS AND MEDIATORS BETWEEN GODS 
+AND MEN; DEMONSTRATING THAT BY NO POSSIBILITY CAN MEN BE RECONCILED TO GOOD GODS BY DEMONS, 
+WHO ARE THE SLAVES OF VICE, AND WHO DELIGHT IN AND PATRONIZE WHAT GOOD AND WISE MEN ABHOR AND 
+
+
+CONDEMN,—THE BLASPHEMOUS FICTIONS OF POETS, THEATRICAL EXHIBITIONS, AND MAGICAL ARTS. 
+
+
+1. That the question of natural theology is to be discussed with those philosophers who sought a 
+more excellent wisdom 
+
+
+W e shall require to apply our mind with far greater intensity to the 
+present question than was requisite in the solution and unfolding 
+of the questions handled in the preceding books; for it is not with 
+ordinary men, but with philosophers that we must confer concerning the 
+theology which they call natural. For it is not like the fabulous, that is, 
+the theatrical; nor the civil, that is, the urban theology: the one of which 
+displays the crimes of the gods, whilst the other manifests their criminal 
+desires, which demonstrate them to be rather malign demons than gods. 
+It is, we say, with philosophers we have to confer with respect to this 
+theology—men whose very name, if rendered into Latin. signifies those 
+who profess the love of wisdom. Now, if wisdom is God, who made all 
+things, as is attested by the divine authority and truth,! then the 
+philosopher is a lover of God. But since the thing itself, which is called 
+by this name, exists not in all who glory in the name—for it does not 
+follow, of course, that all who are called philosophers are lovers of true 
+
+
+wisdom—we must needs select from the number of those with whose 
+opinions we have been able to acquaint ourselves by reading, some with 
+whom we may not unworthily engage in the treatment of this question. 
+For I have not in this work undertaken to refute all the vain opinions of 
+the philosophers, but only such as pertain to theology, which Greek 
+word we understand to mean an account or explanation of the divine 
+nature. Nor, again, have I undertaken to refute all the vain theological 
+opinions of all the philosophers, but only of such of them as, agreeing in 
+the belief that there is a divine nature, and that this divine nature is 
+concerned about human affairs, do nevertheless deny that the worship of 
+the one unchangeable God is sufficient for the obtaining of a blessed life 
+after death, as well as at the present time; and hold that, in order to 
+obtain that life, many gods, created, indeed, and appointed to their 
+several spheres by that one God, are to be worshipped. These approach 
+nearer to the truth than even Varro; for, whilst he saw no difficulty in 
+extending natural theology in its entirety even to the world and the soul 
+of the world, these acknowledge God as existing above all that is of the 
+nature of soul, and as the Creator not only of this visible world, which is 
+often called heaven and earth, but also of every soul whatsoever, and as 
+Him who gives blessedness to the rational soul—of which kind is the 
+human soul—by participation in His own unchangeable and incorporeal 
+light. There is no one, who has even a slender knowledge of these things, 
+who does not know of the Platonic philosophers, who derive their name 
+from their master Plato. Concerning this Plato, then, I will briefly state 
+such things as I deem necessary to the present question, mentioning 
+beforehand those who preceded him in time in the same department of 
+literature. 
+
+
+2. Concerning the two schools of philosophers, that is, the Italic and Ionic, and their founders 
+
+
+As far as concerns the literature of the Greeks, whose language holds a 
+more illustrious place than any of the languages of the other nations, 
+history mentions two schools of philosophers, the one called the Italic 
+school, originating in that part of Italy which was formerly called Magna 
+Grecia; the other called the Ionic school, having its origin in those 
+regions which are still called by the name of Greece. The Italic school 
+had for its founder Pythagoras of Samos, to whom also the term 
+“philosophy” is said to owe its origin. For whereas formerly those who 
+
+
+seemed to excel others by the laudable manner in which they regulated 
+their lives were called sages, Pythagoras, on being asked what he 
+professed, replied that he was a philosopher, that is, a student or lover of 
+wisdom; for it seemed to him to be the height of arrogance to profess 
+oneself a sage.2 The founder of the Ionic school, again, was Thales of 
+Miletus, one of those seven who were styled the “seven sages,” of whom 
+six were distinguished by the kind of life they lived, and by certain 
+maxims which they gave forth for the proper conduct of life. Thales was 
+distinguished as an investigator into the nature of things; and, in order 
+that he might have successors in his school, he committed his 
+dissertations to writing. That, however, which especially rendered him 
+eminent was his ability, by means of astronomical calculations, even to 
+predict eclipses of the sun and moon. He thought, however, that water 
+was the first principle of things, and that of it all the elements of the 
+world, the world itself, and all things which are generated in it, 
+ultimately consist. Over all this work, however, which, when we 
+consider the world, appears so admirable, he set nothing of the nature of 
+divine mind. To him succeeded Anaximander, his pupil, who held a 
+different opinion concerning the nature of things; for he did not hold 
+that all things spring from one principle, as Thales did, who held that 
+principle to be water, but thought that each thing springs from its own 
+proper principle. These principles of things he believed to be infinite in 
+number, and thought that they generated innumerable worlds, and all 
+the things which arise in them. He thought, also, that these worlds are 
+subject to a perpetual process of alternate dissolution and regeneration, 
+each one continuing for a longer or shorter period of time, according to 
+the nature of the case; nor did he, any more than Thales, attribute 
+anything to a divine mind in the production of all this activity of things. 
+Anaximander left as his successor his disciple Anaximenes, who 
+attributed all the causes of things to an infinite air. He neither denied 
+nor ignored the existence of gods, but, so far from believing that the air 
+was made by them, he held, on the contrary, that they sprang from the 
+air. Anaxagoras, however, who was his pupil, perceived that a divine 
+mind was the productive cause of all things which we see, and said that 
+all the various kinds of things, according to their several modes and 
+species, were produced out of an infinite matter consisting of 
+homogeneous particles, but by the efficiency of a divine mind. Diogenes, 
+
+
+also, another pupil of Anaximenes, said that a certain air was the 
+original substance of things out of which all things were produced, but 
+that it was possessed of a divine reason, without which nothing could be 
+produced from it. Anaxagoras was succeeded by his disciple Archelaus, 
+who also thought that all things consisted of homogeneous particles, of 
+which each particular thing was made, but that those particles were 
+pervaded by a divine mind, which perpetually energized all the eternal 
+bodies, namely, those particles, so that they are alternately united and 
+separated. Socrates, the master of Plato, is said to have been the disciple 
+of Archelaus; and on Plato’s account it is that I have given this brief 
+historical sketch of the whole history of these schools. 
+
+
+3. Of the Socratic philosophy 
+
+
+Socrates is said to have been the first who directed the entire effort of 
+philosophy to the correction and regulation of manners, all who went 
+before him having expended their greatest efforts in the investigation of 
+physical, that is, natural phenomena. However, it seems to me that it 
+cannot be certainly discovered whether Socrates did this because he was 
+wearied of obscure and uncertain things, and so wished to direct his 
+mind to the discovery of something manifest and certain, which was 
+necessary in order to the obtaining of a blessed life—that one great 
+object toward which the labour, vigilance, and industry of all 
+philosophers seem to have been directed—or whether (as some yet more 
+favourable to him suppose) he did it because he was unwilling that 
+minds defiled with earthly desires should essay to raise themselves 
+upward to divine things. For he saw that the causes of things were 
+sought for by them—which causes he believed to be ultimately reducible 
+to nothing else than the will of the one true and supreme God—and on 
+this account he thought they could only be comprehended by a purified 
+mind; and therefore that all diligence ought to be given to the 
+purification of the life by good morals, in order that the mind, delivered 
+from the depressing weight of lusts, might raise itself upward by its 
+native vigour to eternal things, and might, with purified understanding, 
+contemplate that nature which is incorporeal and unchangeable light, 
+where live the causes of all created natures. It is evident, however, that 
+he hunted out and pursued, with a wonderful pleasantness of style and 
+argument, and with a most pointed and insinuating urbanity, the 
+
+
+foolishness of ignorant men, who thought that they knew this or that— 
+sometimes confessing his own ignorance, and sometimes dissimulating 
+his knowledge, even in those very moral questions to which he seems to 
+have directed the whole force of his mind. And hence there arose 
+hostility against him, which ended in his being calumniously impeached, 
+and condemned to death. Afterwards, however, that very city of the 
+Athenians, which had publicly condemned him, did publicly bewail him 
+—the popular indignation having turned with such vehemence on his 
+accusers, that one of them perished by the violence of the multitude, 
+whilst the other only escaped a like punishment by voluntary and 
+perpetual exile. 
+
+Illustrious, therefore, both in his life and in his death, Socrates left 
+very many disciples of his philosophy, who vied with one another in 
+desire for proficiency in handling those moral questions which concern 
+the chief good (summum bonum), the possession of which can make a 
+man blessed; and because, in the disputations of Socrates, where he 
+raises all manner of questions, makes assertions, and then demolishes 
+them, it did not evidently appear what he held to be the chief good, 
+every one took from these disputations what pleased him best, and every 
+one placed the final good’ in whatever it appeared to himself to consist. 
+Now, that which is called the final good is that at which, when one has 
+arrived, he is blessed. But so diverse were the opinions held by those 
+followers of Socrates concerning this final good, that (a thing scarcely to 
+be credited with respect to the followers of one master) some placed the 
+chief good in pleasure, as Aristippus, others in virtue, as Antisthenes. 
+Indeed, it were tedious to recount the various opinions of various 
+disciples. 
+
+
+4. Concerning Plato, the chief among the disciples of Socrates, and his threefold division of 
+philosophy 
+
+
+But, among the disciples of Socrates, Plato was the one who shone 
+with a glory which far excelled that of the others, and who not unjustly 
+eclipsed them all. By birth an Athenian of honourable parentage, he far 
+surpassed his fellow-disciples in natural endowments, of which he was 
+possessed in a wonderful degree. Yet, deeming himself and the Socratic 
+discipline far from sufficient for bringing philosophy to perfection, he 
+travelled as extensively as he was able, going to every place famed for 
+
+
+the cultivation of any science of which he could make himself master. 
+Thus he learned from the Egyptians whatever they held and taught as 
+important; and from Egypt, passing into those parts of Italy which were 
+filled with the fame of the Pythagoreans, he mastered, with the greatest 
+facility, and under the most eminent teachers, all the Italic philosophy 
+which was then in vogue. And, as he had a peculiar love for his master 
+Socrates, he made him the speaker in all his dialogues, putting into his 
+mouth whatever he had learned, either from others, or from the efforts 
+of his own powerful intellect, tempering even his moral disputations 
+with the grace and politeness of the Socratic style. And, as the study of 
+wisdom consists in action and contemplation, so that one part of it may 
+be called active, and the other contemplative—the active part having 
+reference to the conduct of life, that is, to the regulation of morals, and 
+the contemplative part to the investigation into the causes of nature and 
+into pure truth—Socrates is said to have excelled in the active part of 
+that study, while Pythagoras gave more attention to its contemplative 
+part, on which he brought to bear all the force of his great intellect. To 
+Plato is given the praise of having perfected philosophy by combining 
+both parts into one. He then divides it into three parts—the first moral, 
+which is chiefly occupied with action; the second natural, of which the 
+object is contemplation; and the third rational, which discriminates 
+between the true and the false. And though this last is necessary both to 
+action and contemplation, it is contemplation, nevertheless, which lays 
+peculiar claim to the office of investigating the nature of truth. Thus this 
+tripartite division is not contrary to that which made the study of 
+wisdom to consist in action and contemplation. Now, as to what Plato 
+thought with respect to each of these parts—that is, what he believed to 
+be the end of all actions, the cause of all natures, and the light of all 
+intelligences—it would be a question too long to discuss, and about 
+which we ought not to make any rash affirmation. For, as Plato liked 
+and constantly affected the well-known method of his master Socrates, 
+namely, that of dissimulating his knowledge or his opinions, it is not 
+easy to discover clearly what he himself thought on various matters, any 
+more than it is to discover what were the real opinions of Socrates. We 
+must, nevertheless, insert into our work certain of those opinions which 
+he expresses in his writings, whether he himself uttered them, or 
+narrates them as expressed by others, and seems himself to approve of— 
+
+
+opinions sometimes favourable to the true religion, which our faith takes 
+up and defends, and sometimes contrary to it, as, for example, in the 
+questions concerning the existence of one God or of many, as it relates to 
+the truly blessed life which is to be after death. For those who are 
+praised as having most closely followed Plato, who is justly preferred to 
+all the other philosophers of the Gentiles, and who are said to have 
+manifested the greatest acuteness in understanding him, do perhaps 
+entertain such an idea of God as to admit that in Him are to be found the 
+cause of existence, the ultimate reason for the understanding, and the 
+end in reference to which the whole life is to be regulated. Of which 
+three things, the first is understood to pertain to the natural, the second 
+to the rational, and the third to the moral part of philosophy. For if man 
+has been so created as to attain, through that which is most excellent in 
+him, to that which excels all things—that is, to the one true and 
+absolutely good God, without whom no nature exists, no doctrine 
+instructs, no exercise profits—let Him be sought in whom all things are 
+secure to us, let Him be discovered in whom all truth becomes certain to 
+us, let Him be loved in whom all becomes right to us. 
+
+
+5. That it is especially with the Platonists that we must carry on our disputations on matters of 
+
+
+theology, their opinions being preferable to those of all other philosophers 
+
+
+If, then, Plato defined the wise man as one who imitates, knows, loves 
+this God, and who is rendered blessed through fellowship with Him in 
+His own blessedness, why discuss with the other philosophers? It is 
+evident that none come nearer to us than the Platonists. To them, 
+therefore, let that fabulous theology give place which delights the minds 
+of men with the crimes of the gods; and that civil theology also, in which 
+impure demons, under the name of gods, have seduced the peoples of 
+the earth given up to earthly pleasures, desiring to be honoured by the 
+errors of men, and, by filling the minds of their worshippers with impure 
+desires, exciting them to make the representation of their crimes one of 
+the rites of their worship, whilst they themselves found in the spectators 
+of these exhibitions a most pleasing spectacle—a theology in which, 
+whatever was honourable in the temple, was defiled by its mixture with 
+the obscenity of the theatre, and whatever was base in the theatre was 
+vindicated by the abominations of the temples. To these philosophers 
+also the interpretations of Varro must give place, in which he explains 
+
+
+the sacred rites as having reference to heaven and earth, and to the seeds 
+and operations of perishable things; for, in the first place, those rites 
+have not the signification which he would have men believe is attached 
+to them, and therefore truth does not follow him in his attempt so to 
+interpret them; and even if they had this signification, still those things 
+ought not to be worshipped by the rational soul as its god which are 
+placed below it in the scale of nature, nor ought the soul to prefer to 
+itself as gods things to which the true God has given it the preference. 
+The same must be said of those writings pertaining to the sacred rites, 
+which Numa Pompilius took care to conceal by causing them to be 
+buried along with himself, and which, when they were afterwards turned 
+up by the plough, were burned by order of the senate. And, to treat 
+Numa with all honour, let us mention as belonging to the same rank as 
+these writings that which Alexander of Macedon wrote to his mother as 
+communicated to him by Leo, an Egyptian high priest. In this letter not 
+only Picus and Faunus, and Æneas and Romulus, or even Hercules and 
+Æsculapius and Liber, born of Semele, and the twin sons of Tyndareus, 
+or any other mortals who have been deified, but even the principal gods 
+themselves,4 to whom Cicero, in his Tusculan questions,” alludes without 
+mentioning their names, Jupiter, Juno, Saturn, Vulcan, Vesta, and many 
+others whom Varro attempts to identify with the parts or the elements of 
+the world, are shown to have been men. There is, as we have said, a 
+similarity between this case and that of Numa; for, the priest being 
+afraid because he had revealed a mystery, earnestly begged of Alexander 
+to command his mother to burn the letter which conveyed these 
+communications to her. Let these two theologies, then, the fabulous and 
+the civil, give place to the Platonic philosophers, who have recognised 
+the true God as the author of all things, the source of the light of truth, 
+and the bountiful bestower of all blessedness. And not these only, but to 
+these great acknowledgers of so great a God, those philosophers must 
+yield who, having their mind enslaved to their body, supposed the 
+principles of all things to be material; as Thales, who held that the first 
+principle of all things was water; Anaximenes, that it was air; the Stoics, 
+that it was fire; Epicurus, who affirmed that it consisted of atoms, that is 
+to say, of minute corpuscules; and many others whom it is needless to 
+enumerate, but who believed that bodies, simple or compound, animate 
+or inanimate, but nevertheless bodies, were the cause and principle of all 
+
+
+things. For some of them—as, for instance, the Epicureans—believed 
+that living things could originate from things without life; others held 
+that all things living or without life spring from a living principle, but 
+that, nevertheless, all things, being material, spring from a material 
+principle. For the Stoics thought that fire, that is, one of the four 
+material elements of which this visible world is composed, was both 
+living and intelligent, the maker of the world and of all things contained 
+in it—that it was in fact God. These and others like them have only been 
+able to suppose that which their hearts enslaved to sense have vainly 
+suggested to them. And yet they have within themselves something 
+which they could not see: they represented to themselves inwardly 
+things which they had seen without, even when they were not seeing 
+them, but only thinking of them. But this representation in thought is no 
+longer a body, but only the similitude of a body; and that faculty of the 
+mind by which this similitude of a body is seen is neither a body nor the 
+similitude of a body; and the faculty which judges whether the 
+representation is beautiful or ugly is without doubt superior to the object 
+judged of. This principle is the understanding of man, the rational soul; 
+and it is certainly not a body, since that similitude of a body which it 
+beholds and judges of is itself not a body. The soul is neither earth, nor 
+water, nor air, nor fire, of which four bodies, called the four elements we 
+see that this world is composed. And if the soul is not a body, how 
+should God, its Creator, be a body? Let all those philosophers, then, give 
+place, as we have said, to the Platonists, and those also who have been 
+ashamed to say that God is a body, but yet have thought that our souls 
+are of the same nature as God. They have not been staggered by the 
+great changeableness of the soul—an attribute which it would be 
+impious to ascribe to the divine nature—but they say it is the body 
+which changes the soul, for in itself it is unchangeable. As well might 
+they say, “Flesh is wounded by some body, for in itself it is 
+invulnerable.” In a word, that which is unchangeable can be changed by 
+nothing, so that that which can be changed by the body cannot properly 
+be said to be immutable. 
+
+
+6. Concerning the meaning of the Platonists in that part of philosophy called physical 
+
+
+These philosophers, then, whom we see not undeservedly exalted 
+above the rest in fame and glory, have seen that no material body is 
+
+
+God, and therefore they have transcended all bodies in seeking for God. 
+They have seen that whatever is changeable is not the most high God, 
+and therefore they have transcended every soul and all changeable 
+spirits in seeking the supreme. They have seen also that, in every 
+changeable thing, the form which makes it that which it is, whatever be 
+its mode or nature, can only be through Him who truly is, because He is 
+unchangeable. And therefore, whether we consider the whole body of 
+the world, its figure, qualities, and orderly movement, and also all the 
+bodies which are in it; or whether we consider all life, either that which 
+nourishes and maintains, as the life of trees, or that which, besides this, 
+has also sensation, as the life of beasts; or that which adds to all these 
+intelligence, as the life of man; or that which does not need the support 
+of nutriment, but only maintains, feels, understands, as the life of angels 
+—all can only be through Him who absolutely is. For to Him it is not one 
+thing to be, and another to live, as though He could be, not living; nor is 
+it to Him one thing to live, and another thing to understand, as though 
+He could live, not understanding; nor is it to Him one thing to 
+understand, another thing to be blessed, as though He could understand 
+and not be blessed. But to Him to live, to understand, to be blessed, are 
+to be. They have understood, from this unchangeableness and this 
+simplicity, that all things must have been made by Him, and that He 
+could Himself have been made by none. For they have considered that 
+whatever is is either body or life, and that life is something better than 
+body, and that the nature of body is sensible, and that of life intelligible. 
+Therefore they have preferred the intelligible nature to the sensible. We 
+mean by sensible things such things as can be perceived by the sight and 
+touch of the body; by intelligible things, such as can be understood by 
+the sight of the mind. For there is no corporeal beauty, whether in the 
+condition of a body, as figure, or in its movement, as in music, of which 
+it is not the mind that judges. But this could never have been, had there 
+not existed in the mind itself a superior form of these things, without 
+bulk, without noise of voice, without space and time. But even in respect 
+of these things, had the mind not been mutable, it would not have been 
+possible for one to judge better than another with regard to sensible 
+forms. He who is clever judges better than he who is slow, he who is 
+skilled than he who is unskilful, he who is practised than he who is 
+unpractised; and the same person judges better after he has gained 
+
+
+experience than he did before. But that which is capable of more and 
+less is mutable; whence able men, who have thought deeply on these 
+things, have gathered that the first form is not to be found in those 
+things whose form is changeable. Since, therefore, they saw that body 
+and mind might be more or less beautiful in form, and that, if they 
+wanted form, they could have no existence, they saw that there is some 
+existence in which is the first form, unchangeable, and therefore not 
+admitting of degrees of comparison, and in that they most rightly 
+believed was the first principle of things, which was not made, and by 
+which all things were made. Therefore that which is known of God He 
+manifested to them when His invisible things were seen by them, being 
+understood by those things which have been made; also His eternal 
+power and Godhead by whom all visible and temporal things have been 
+created.6 We have said enough upon that part of theology which they 
+call physical, that is, natural. 
+
+
+7. How much the Platonists are to be held as excelling other philosophers in logic, i.e. rational 
+
+
+philosophy 
+
+
+Then, again, as far as regards the doctrine which treats of that which 
+they call logic, that is, rational philosophy, far be it from us to compare 
+them with those who attributed to the bodily senses the faculty of 
+discriminating truth, and thought that all we learn is to be measured by 
+their untrustworthy and fallacious rules. Such were the Epicureans, and 
+all of the same school. Such also were the Stoics, who ascribed to the 
+bodily senses that expertness in disputation which they so ardently love, 
+called by them dialectic, asserting that from the senses the mind 
+conceives the notions (twee) of those things which they explicate by 
+definition. And hence is developed the whole plan and connection of 
+their learning and teaching. I often. wonder with respect to this, how 
+they can say that none are beautiful but the wise; for by what bodily 
+sense have they perceived that beauty, by what eyes of the flesh have 
+they seen wisdom’s comeliness of form? Those, however, whom we 
+justly rank before all others, have distinguished those things which are 
+conceived by the mind from those which are perceived by the senses, 
+neither taking away from the senses anything to which they are 
+competent, nor attributing to them anything beyond their competency. 
+And the light of our understandings, by which all things are learned by 
+
+
+us, they have affirmed to be that selfsame God by whom all things were 
+made. 
+
+
+8. That the Platonists hold the first rank in moral philosophy also 
+
+
+The remaining part of philosophy is morals, or what is called by the 
+Greeks «4, in which is discussed the question concerning the chief good 
+—that which will leave us nothing further to seek in order to be blessed, 
+if only we make all our actions refer to it, and seek it not for the sake of 
+something else, but for its own sake. Therefore it is called the end, 
+because we wish other things on account of it, but itself only for its own 
+sake. This beatific good, therefore, according to some, comes to a man 
+from the body, according to others, from the mind, and, according to 
+others, from both together. For they saw that man himself consists of 
+soul and body; and therefore they believed that from either of these two, 
+or from both together, their well-being must proceed, consisting in a 
+certain final good, which could render them blessed, and to which they 
+might refer all their actions, not requiring anything ulterior to which to 
+refer that good itself. This is why those who have added a third kind of 
+good things, which they call extrinsic—as honour, glory, wealth, and the 
+like—have not regarded them as part of the final good, that is, to be 
+sought after for their own sake, but as things which are to be sought for 
+the sake of something else, affirming that this kind of good is good to the 
+good, and evil to the evil. Wherefore, whether they have sought the 
+good of man from the mind or from the body, or from both together, it is 
+still only from man they have supposed that it must be sought. But they 
+who have sought it from the body have sought it from the inferior part 
+of man; they who have sought it from the mind, from the superior part; 
+and they who have sought it from both, from the whole man. Whether, 
+therefore, they have sought it from any part, or from the whole man, 
+still they have only sought it from man; nor have these differences, being 
+three, given rise only to three dissentient sects of philosophers, but to 
+many. For diverse philosophers have held diverse opinions, both 
+concerning the good of the body, and the good of the mind, and the 
+good of both together. Let, therefore, all these give place to those 
+philosophers who have not affirmed that a man is blessed by the 
+enjoyment of the body, or by the enjoyment of the mind, but by the 
+enjoyment of God—enjoying Him, however, not as the mind does the 
+
+
+body or itself, or as one friend enjoys another, but as the eye enjoys 
+light, if, indeed, we may draw any comparison between these things. But 
+what the nature of this comparison is, will, if God help me, be shown in 
+another place, to the best of my ability. At present, it is sufficient to 
+mention that Plato determined the final good to be to live according to 
+virtue, and affirmed that he only can attain to virtue who knows and 
+imitates God—which knowledge and imitation are the only cause of 
+blessedness. Therefore he did not doubt that to philosophize is to love 
+God, whose nature is incorporeal. Whence it certainly follows that the 
+student of wisdom, that is, the philosopher, will then become blessed 
+when he shall have begun to enjoy God. For though he is not necessarily 
+blessed who enjoys that which he loves (for many are miserable by 
+loving that which ought not to be loved, and still more miserable when 
+they enjoy it), nevertheless no one is blessed who does not enjoy that 
+which he loves. For even they who love things which ought not to be 
+loved do not count themselves blessed by loving merely, but by enjoying 
+them. Who, then, but the most miserable will deny that he is blessed, 
+who enjoys that which he loves, and loves the true and highest good? 
+But the true and highest good, according to Plato, is God, and therefore 
+he would call him a philosopher who loves God; for philosophy is 
+directed to the obtaining of the blessed life, and he who loves God is 
+blessed in the enjoyment of God. 
+
+
+9. Concerning that philosophy which has come nearest to the Christian faith 
+
+
+Whatever philosophers, therefore, thought concerning the supreme 
+God, that He is both the maker of all created things, the light by which 
+things are known, and the good in reference to which things are to be 
+done; that we have in Him the first principle of nature, the truth of 
+doctrine, and the happiness of life—whether these philosophers may be 
+more suitably called Platonists, or whether they may give some other 
+name to their sect; whether, we say, that only the chief men of the Ionic 
+school, such as Plato himself, and they who have well understood him, 
+have thought thus; or whether we also include the Italic school, on 
+account of Pythagoras and the Pythagoreans, and all who may have held 
+like opinions; and, lastly, whether also we include all who have been 
+held wise men and philosophers among all nations who are discovered 
+to have seen and taught this, be they Atlantics, Libyans, Egyptians, 
+
+
+Indians, Persians, Chaldeans, Scythians, Gauls, Spaniards, or of other 
+nations—we prefer these to all other philosophers, and confess that they 
+approach nearest to us. 
+
+
+10. That the excellency of the Christian religion is above all the science of philosophers 
+
+
+For although a Christian man instructed only in ecclesiastical 
+literature may perhaps be ignorant of the very name of Platonists, and 
+may not even know that there have existed two schools of philosophers 
+speaking the Greek tongue, to wit, the Ionic and Italic, he is nevertheless 
+not so deaf with respect to human affairs, as not to know that 
+philosophers profess the study, and even the possession, of wisdom. He 
+is on his guard, however, with respect to those who philosophize 
+according to the elements of this world, not according to God, by whom 
+the world itself was made; for he is warned by the precept of the apostle, 
+and faithfully hears what has been said, “Beware that no one deceive 
+you through philosophy and vain deceit, according to the elements of 
+the world.”” Then, that he may not suppose that all philosophers are 
+such as do this, he hears the same apostle say concerning certain of 
+them, “Because that which is known of God is manifest among them, for 
+God has manifested it to them. For His invisible things from the creation 
+of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things which are 
+made, also His eternal power and Godhead.”8 And, when speaking to the 
+Athenians, after having spoken a mighty thing concerning God, which 
+few are able to understand, “In Him we live, and move, and have our 
+being,”? he goes on to say, “As certain also of your own have said.” He 
+knows well, too, to be on his guard against even these philosophers in 
+their errors. For where it has been said by him, “that God has manifested 
+to them by those things which are made His invisible things, that they 
+might be seen by the understanding,” there it has also been said that 
+they did not rightly worship God Himself, because they paid divine 
+honours, which are due to Him alone, to other things also to which they 
+ought not to have paid them—‘“because, knowing God, they glorified 
+Him not as God; neither were thankful, but became vain in their 
+imaginations, and their foolish heart was darkened. Professing 
+themselves to be wise, they became fools, and changed the glory of the 
+incorruptible God into the likeness of the image of corruptible man, and 
+of birds, and fourfooted beasts, and creeping things;”!0—where the 
+
+
+apostle would have us understand him as meaning the Romans, and 
+Greeks, and Egyptians, who gloried in the name of wisdom; but 
+concerning this we will dispute with them afterwards. With respect, 
+however, to that wherein they agree with us we prefer them to all 
+others, namely, concerning the one God, the author of this universe, who 
+is not only above every body, being incorporeal, but also above all souls, 
+being incorruptible—our principle, our light, our good. And though the 
+Christian man, being ignorant of their writings, does not use in 
+disputation words which he has not learned—not calling that part of 
+philosophy natural (which is the Latin term), or physical (which is the 
+Greek one), which treats of the investigation of nature; or that part 
+rational, or logical, which deals with the question how truth may be 
+discovered; or that part moral, or ethical, which concerns morals, and 
+shows how good is to be sought, and evil to be shunned—he is not, 
+therefore, ignorant that it is from the one true and supremely good God 
+that we have that nature in which we are made in the image of God, and 
+that doctrine by which we know Him and ourselves, and that grace 
+through which, by cleaving to Him, we are blessed. This, therefore, is 
+the cause why we prefer these to all the others, because, whilst other 
+philosophers have worn out their minds and powers in seeking the 
+causes of things, and endeavouring to discover the right mode of 
+learning and of living, these, by knowing God, have found where resides 
+the cause by which the universe has been constituted, and the light by 
+which truth is to be discovered, and the fountain at which felicity is to 
+be drunk. All philosophers, then, who have had these thoughts 
+concerning God, whether Platonists or others, agree with us. But we 
+have thought it better to plead our cause with the Platonists, because 
+their writings are better known. For the Greeks, whose tongue holds the 
+highest place among the languages of the Gentiles, are loud in their 
+praises of these writings; and the Latins, taken with their excellence, or 
+their renown, have studied them more heartily than other writings, and, 
+by translating them into our tongue, have given them greater celebrity 
+and notoriety. 
+
+
+11. How Plato has been able to approach so nearly to Christian knowledge 
+
+
+Certain partakers with us in the grace of Christ, wonder when they 
+hear and read that Plato had conceptions concerning God, in which they 
+
+
+recognise considerable agreement with the truth of our religion. Some 
+have concluded from this, that when he went to Egypt he had heard the 
+prophet Jeremiah, or, whilst travelling in the same country, had read the 
+prophetic scriptures, which opinion I myself have expressed in certain of 
+my writings.1! But a careful calculation of dates, contained in 
+chronological history, shows that Plato was born about a hundred years 
+after the time in which Jeremiah prophesied, and, as he lived eighty-one 
+years, there are found to have been about seventy years from his death 
+to that time when Ptolemy, king of Egypt, requested the prophetic 
+scriptures of the Hebrew people to be sent to him from Judea, and 
+committed them to seventy Hebrews, who also knew the Greek tongue, 
+to be translated and kept. Therefore, on that voyage of his, Plato could 
+neither have seen Jeremiah, who was dead so long before, nor have read 
+those same scriptures which had not yet been translated into the Greek 
+language, of which he was a master, unless, indeed, we say that, as he 
+was most earnest in the pursuit of knowledge, he also studied those 
+writings through an interpreter, as he did those of the Egyptians—not, 
+indeed, writing a translation of them (the facilities for doing which were 
+only gained even by Ptolemy in return for munificent acts of kindness, !2 
+though fear of his kingly authority might have seemed a sufficient 
+motive), but learning as much as he possibly could concerning their 
+contents by means of conversation. What warrants this supposition is the 
+opening verses of Genesis: “In the beginning God made the heaven and 
+earth. And the earth was invisible, and without order; and darkness was 
+over the abyss: and the Spirit of God moved over the waters.”13 For in 
+the Timaceus, when writing on the formation of the world, he says that 
+God first united earth and fire; from which it is evident that he assigns to 
+fire a place in heaven. This opinion bears a certain resemblance to the 
+statement, “In the beginning God made heaven and earth.” Plato next 
+speaks of those two intermediary elements, water and air, by which the 
+other two extremes, namely, earth and fire, were mutually united; from 
+which circumstance he is thought to have so understood the words, “The 
+Spirit of God moved over the waters.” For, not paying sufficient 
+attention to the designations given by those scriptures to the Spirit of 
+God, he may have thought that the four elements are spoken of in that 
+place, because the air also is called spirit.14 Then, as to Plato’s saying 
+that the philosopher is a lover of God, nothing shines forth more 
+
+
+conspicuously in those sacred writings. But the most striking thing in 
+this connection, and that which most of all inclines me almost to assent 
+to the opinion that Plato was not ignorant of those writings, is the 
+answer which was given to the question elicited from the holy Moses 
+when the words of God were conveyed to him by the angel; for, when he 
+asked what was the name of that God who was commanding him to go 
+and deliver the Hebrew people out of Egypt, this answer was given: “I 
+am who am; and thou shalt say to the children of Israel, He who is sent 
+me unto you;”!5 as though compared with Him that truly is, because He 
+is unchangeable, those things which have been created mutable are not 
+—a truth which Plato vehemently held, and most diligently commended. 
+And I know not whether this sentiment is anywhere to be found in the 
+books of those who were before Plato, unless in that book where it is 
+said, “I am who am; and thou shalt say to the children of Israel, Who is 
+sent me unto you.” 
+
+
+12. That even the Platonists, though they say these things concerning the one true God, nevertheless 
+
+
+thought that sacred rites were to be performed in honour of many gods 
+
+
+But we need not determine from what source he learned these things 
+—whether it was from the books of the ancients who preceded him, or, 
+as is more likely, from the words of the apostle: “Because that which is 
+known of God has been manifested among them, for God hath 
+manifested it to them. For His invisible things from the creation of the 
+world are clearly seen, being understood by those things which have 
+been made, also His eternal power and Godhead.”!6 From whatever 
+source he may have derived this knowledge, then, I think I have made it 
+sufficiently plain that I have not chosen the Platonic philosophers 
+undeservedly as the parties with whom to discuss; because the question 
+we have just taken up concerns the natural theology—the question, 
+namely, whether sacred rites are to be performed to one God, or to 
+many, for the sake of the happiness which is to be after death. I have 
+specially chosen them because their juster thoughts concerning the one 
+God who made heaven and earth, have made them illustrious among 
+philosophers. This has given them such superiority to all others in the 
+judgment of posterity, that, though Aristotle, the disciple of Plato, a man 
+of eminent abilities, inferior in eloquence to Plato, yet far superior to 
+many in that respect, had founded the Peripatetic sect—so called 
+
+
+because they were in the habit of walking about during their 
+disputations—and though he had, through the greatness of his fame, 
+gathered very many disciples into his school, even during the life of his 
+master; and though Plato at his death was succeeded in his school, 
+which was called the Academy, by Speusippus, his sister’s son, and 
+Xenocrates, his beloved disciple, who, together with their successors, 
+were called from this name of the school, Academics; nevertheless the 
+most illustrious recent philosophers, who have chosen to follow Plato, 
+have been unwilling to be called Peripatetics, or Academics, but have 
+preferred the name of Platonists. Among these were the renowned 
+Plotinus, Iamblichus, and Porphyry, who were Greeks, and the African 
+Apuleius, who was learned both in the Greek and Latin tongues. All 
+these, however, and the rest who were of the same school, and also Plato 
+himself, thought that sacred rites ought to be performed in honour of 
+many gods. 
+
+
+13. Concerning the opinion of Plato, according to which he defined the gods as beings entirely 
+good and the friends of virtue 
+
+
+Therefore, although in many other important respects they differ from 
+us, nevertheless with respect to this particular point of difference, which 
+I have just stated, as it is one of great moment, and the question on hand 
+concerns it, I will first ask them to what gods they think that sacred rites 
+are to be performed—to the good or to the bad, or to both the good and 
+the bad? But we have the opinion of Plato affirming that all the gods are 
+good, and that there is not one of the gods bad. It follows, therefore, that 
+these are to be performed to the good, for then they are performed to 
+gods; for if they are not good, neither are they gods. Now, if this be the 
+case (for what else ought we to believe concerning the gods?), certainly 
+it explodes the opinion that the bad gods are to be propitiated by sacred 
+rites in order that they may not harm us, but the good gods are to be 
+invoked in order that they may assist us. For there are no bad gods, and 
+it is to the good that, as they say, the due honour of such rites is to be 
+paid. Of what character, then, are those gods who love scenic displays, 
+even demanding that a place be given them among divine things, and 
+that they be exhibited in their honour? The power of these gods proves 
+that they exist, but their liking such things proves that they are bad. For 
+it is well known what Plato’s opinion was concerning scenic plays. He 
+
+
+thinks that the poets themselves, because they have composed songs so 
+unworthy of the majesty and goodness of the gods, ought to be banished 
+from the state. Of what character, therefore, are those gods who contend 
+with Plato himself about those scenic plays? He does not suffer the gods 
+to be defamed by false crimes; the gods command those same crimes to 
+be celebrated in their own honour. 
+
+In fine, when they ordered these plays to be inaugurated, they not 
+only demanded base things, but also did cruel things, taking from Titus 
+Latinius his son, and sending a disease upon him because he had refused 
+to obey them, which they removed when he had fulfilled their 
+commands. Plato, however, bad though they were, did not think they 
+were to be feared; but, holding to his opinion with the utmost firmness 
+and constancy, does not hesitate to remove from a well-ordered state all 
+the sacrilegious follies of the poets, with which these gods are delighted 
+because they themselves are impure. But Labeo places this same Plato 
+(as I have mentioned already in the second book!”) among the demi- 
+gods. Now Labeo thinks that the bad deities are to be propitiated with 
+bloody victims, and by fasts accompanied with the same, but the good 
+deities with plays, and all other things which are associated with 
+joyfulness. How comes it, then, that the demi-god Plato so persistently 
+dares to take away those pleasures, because he deems them base, not 
+from the demi-gods but from the gods, and these the good gods? And, 
+moreover, those very gods themselves do certainly refute the opinion of 
+Labeo, for they showed themselves in the case of Latinius to be not only 
+wanton and sportive, but also cruel and terrible. Let the Platonists, 
+therefore, explain these things to us, since, following the opinion of their 
+master, they think that all the gods are good and honourable, and 
+friendly to the virtues of the wise, holding it unlawful to think otherwise 
+concerning any of the gods. We will explain it, say they. Let us then 
+attentively listen to them. 
+
+
+14. Of the opinion of those who have said that rational souls are of three kinds, to wit, those of the 
+
+
+celestial gods, those of the aerial demons, and those of terrestrial men 
+
+
+There is, say they, a threefold division of all animals endowed with a 
+rational soul, namely, into gods, men, and demons. The gods occupy the 
+loftiest region, men the lowest, the demons the middle region. For the 
+abode of the gods is heaven, that of men the earth, that of the demons 
+
+
+the air. As the dignity of their regions is diverse, so also is that of their 
+natures; therefore the gods are better than men and demons. Men have 
+been placed below the gods and demons, both in respect of the order of 
+the regions they inhabit, and the difference of their merits. The demons, 
+therefore, who hold the middle place, as they are inferior to the gods, 
+than whom they inhabit a lower region, so they are superior to men, 
+than whom they inhabit a loftier one. For they have immortality of body 
+in common with the gods, but passions of the mind in common with 
+men. On which account, say they, it is not wonderful that they are 
+delighted with the obscenities of the theatre, and the fictions of the 
+poets, since they are also subject to human passions, from which the 
+gods are far removed, and to which they are altogether strangers. 
+Whence we conclude that it was not the gods, who are all good and 
+highly exalted, that Plato deprived of the pleasure of theatric plays, by 
+reprobating and prohibiting the fictions of the poets, but the demons. 
+
+Of these things many have written: among others Apuleius, the 
+Platonist of Madaura, who composed a whole work on the subject, 
+entitled, Concerning the God of Socrates. He there discusses and explains 
+of what kind that deity was who attended on Socrates, a sort of familiar, 
+by whom it is said he was admonished to desist from any action which 
+would not turn out to his advantage. He asserts most distinctly, and 
+proves at great length, that it was not a god but a demon; and he 
+discusses with great diligence the opinion of Plato concerning the lofty 
+estate of the gods, the lowly estate of men, and the middle estate of 
+demons. These things being so, how did Plato dare to take away, if not 
+from the gods, whom he removed from all human contagion, certainly 
+from the demons, all the pleasures of the theatre, by expelling the poets 
+from the state? Evidently in this way he wished to admonish the human 
+soul, although still confined in these moribund members, to despise the 
+shameful commands of the demons, and to detest their impurity, and to 
+choose rather the splendour of virtue. But if Plato showed himself 
+virtuous in answering and prohibiting these things, then certainly it was 
+shameful of the demons to command them. Therefore either Apuleius is 
+wrong, and Socrates’ familiar did not belong to this class of deities, or 
+Plato held contradictory opinions, now honouring the demons, now 
+removing from the well-regulated state the things in which they 
+delighted, or Socrates is not to be congratulated on the friendship of the 
+
+
+demon, of which Apuleius was so ashamed that he entitled his book On 
+the God of Socrates, whilst according to the tenor of his discussion, 
+wherein he so diligently and at such length distinguishes gods from 
+demons, he ought not to have entitled it, Concerning the God, but 
+Concerning the Demon of Socrates. But he preferred to put this into the 
+discussion itself rather than into the title of his book. For, through the 
+sound doctrine which has illuminated human society, all, or almost all 
+men have such a horror at the name of demons, that every one who, 
+before reading the dissertation of Apuleius, which sets forth the dignity 
+of demons, should have read the title of the book, On the Demon of 
+Socrates, would certainly have thought that the author was not a sane 
+man. But what did even Apuleius find to praise in the demons, except 
+subtlety and strength of body and a higher place of habitation? For when 
+he spoke generally concerning their manners, he said nothing that was 
+good, but very much that was bad. Finally, no one, when he has read 
+that book, wonders that they desired to have even the obscenity of the 
+stage among divine things, or that, wishing to be thought gods, they 
+should be delighted with the crimes of the gods, or that all those sacred 
+solemnities, whose obscenity occasions laughter, and whose shameful 
+cruelty causes horror, should be in agreement with their passions. 
+
+
+15. That the demons are not better than men because of their aerial bodies, or on account of 
+
+
+their superior place of abode 
+
+
+Wherefore let not the mind truly religious, and submitted to the true 
+God, suppose that demons are better than men, because they have better 
+bodies. Otherwise it must put many beasts before itself which are 
+superior to us both in acuteness of the senses, in ease and quickness of 
+movement, in strength and in long-continued vigour of body. What man 
+can equal the eagle or the vulture in strength of vision? Who can equal 
+the dog in acuteness of smell? Who can equal the hare, the stag, and all 
+the birds in swiftness? Who can equal in strength the lion or the 
+elephant? Who can equal in length of life the serpents, which are 
+affirmed to put off old age along with their skin, and to return to youth 
+again? But as we are better than all these by the possession of reason 
+and understanding, so we ought also to be better than the demons by 
+living good and virtuous lives. For divine providence gave to them 
+bodies of a better quality than ours, that that in which we excel them 
+
+
+might in this way be commended to us as deserving to be far more cared 
+for than the body, and that we should learn to despise the bodily 
+excellence of the demons compared with goodness of life, in respect of 
+which we are better than they, knowing that we too shall have 
+immortality of body—not an immortality tortured by eternal 
+punishment, but that which is consequent on purity of soul. 
+
+But now, as regards loftiness of place, it is altogether ridiculous to be 
+so influenced by the fact that the demons inhabit the air, and we the 
+earth, as to think that on that account they are to be put before us; for in 
+this way we put all the birds before ourselves. But the birds, when they 
+are weary with flying, or require to repair their bodies with food, come 
+back to the earth to rest or to feed, which the demons, they say, do not. 
+Are they, therefore, inclined to say that the birds are superior to us, and 
+the demons superior to the birds? But if it be madness to think so, there 
+is no reason why we should think that, on account of their inhabiting a 
+loftier element, the demons have a claim to our religious submission. But 
+as it is really the case that the birds of the air are not only not put before 
+us who dwell on the earth, but are even subjected to us on account of 
+the dignity of the rational soul which is in us, so also it is the case that 
+the demons, though they are aerial, are not better than we who are 
+terrestrial because the air is higher than the earth, but, on the contrary, 
+men are to be put before demons because their despair is not to be 
+compared to the hope of pious men. Even that law of Plato’s, according 
+to which he mutually orders and arranges the four elements, inserting 
+between the two extreme elements—namely, fire, which is in the highest 
+degree mobile, and the immoveable earth—the two middle ones, air and 
+water, that by how much the air is higher up than the water, and the fire 
+than the air, by so much also are the waters higher than the earth—this 
+law, I say, sufficiently admonishes us not to estimate the merits of 
+animated creatures according to the grades of the elements. And 
+Apuleius himself says that man is a terrestrial animal in common with 
+the rest, who is nevertheless to be put far before aquatic animals, though 
+Plato puts the waters themselves before the land. By this he would have 
+us understand that the same order is not to be observed when the 
+question concerns the merits of animals, though it seems to be the true 
+one in the gradation of bodies; for it appears to be possible that a soul of 
+a higher order may inhabit a body of a lower, and a soul of a lower 
+
+
+order a body of a higher. 
+
+
+16. What Apuleius the Platonist thought concerning the manners and actions of demons 
+
+
+The same Apuleius, when speaking concerning the manners of 
+demons, said that they are agitated with the same perturbations of mind 
+as men; that they are provoked by injuries, propitiated by services and 
+by gifts, rejoice in honours, are delighted with a variety of sacred rites, 
+and are annoyed if any of them be neglected. Among other things, he 
+also says that on them depend the divinations of augurs, soothsayers, 
+and prophets, and the revelations of dreams; and that from them also are 
+the miracles of the magicians. But, when giving a brief definition of 
+them, he says, “Demons are of an animal nature, passive in soul, rational 
+in mind, aerial in body, eternal in time.” “Of which five things, the three 
+first are common to them and us, the fourth peculiar to themselves, and 
+the fifth common to them with the gods.”18 But I see that they have in 
+common with the gods two of the first things, which they have in 
+common with us. For he says that the gods also are animals; and when 
+he is assigning to every order of beings its own element, he places us 
+among the other terrestrial animals which live and feel upon the earth. 
+Wherefore, if the demons are animals as to genus, this is common to 
+them, not only with men, but also with the gods and with beasts; if they 
+are rational as to their mind, this is common to them with the gods and 
+with men; if they are eternal in time, this is common to them with the 
+gods only; if they are passive as to their soul, this is common to them 
+with men only; if they are aerial in body, in this they are alone. 
+Therefore it is no great thing for them to be of an animal nature, for so 
+also are the beasts; in being rational as to mind, they are not above 
+ourselves, for so are we also; and as to their being eternal as to time, 
+what is the advantage of that if they are not blessed? for better is 
+temporal happiness than eternal misery. Again, as to their being passive 
+in soul, how are they in this respect above us, since we also are so, but 
+would not have been so had we not been miserable? Also, as to their 
+being aerial in body, how much value is to be set on that, since a soul of 
+any kind whatsoever is to be set above every body? and therefore 
+religious worship, which ought to be rendered from the soul, is by no 
+means due to that thing which is inferior to the soul. Moreover, if he 
+had, among those things which he says belong to demons, enumerated 
+
+
+virtue, wisdom, happiness, and affirmed that they have those things in 
+common with the gods, and, like them, eternally, he would assuredly 
+have attributed to them something greatly to be desired, and much to be 
+prized. And even in that case it would not have been our duty to 
+worship them like God on account of these things, but rather to worship 
+Him from whom we know they had received them. But how much less 
+are they really worthy of divine honour—those aerial animals who are 
+only rational that they may be capable of misery, passive that they may 
+be actually miserable, and eternal that it may be impossible for them to 
+end their misery! 
+
+
+17. Whether it is proper that men should worship those spirits from whose vices it is necessary 
+that they be freed 
+
+
+Wherefore, to omit other things, and confine our attention to that 
+which he says is common to the demons with us, let us ask this question: 
+If all the four elements are full of their own animals, the fire and the air 
+of immortal, and the water and the earth of mortal ones, why are the 
+souls of demons agitated by the whirlwinds and tempests of passions?— 
+for the Greek word *4%¢ means perturbation, whence he chose to call the 
+demons “passive in soul,” because the word passion, which is derived 
+from *4#40¢, signified a commotion of the mind contrary to reason. Why, 
+then, are these things in the minds of demons which are not in beasts? 
+For if anything of this kind appears in beasts, it is not perturbation, 
+because it is not contrary to reason, of which they are devoid. Now it is 
+foolishness or misery which is the cause of these perturbations in the 
+case of men, for we are not yet blessed in the possession of that 
+perfection of wisdom which is promised to us at last, when we shall be 
+set free from our present mortality. But the gods, they say, are free from 
+these perturbations, because they are not only eternal, but also blessed; 
+for they also have the same kind of rational souls, but most pure from all 
+spot and plague. Wherefore, if the gods are free from perturbation 
+because they are blessed, not miserable animals, and the beasts are free 
+from them because they are animals which are capable neither of 
+blessedness nor misery, it remains that the demons, like men, are subject 
+to perturbations because they are not blessed but miserable animals. 
+What folly, therefore, or rather what madness, to submit ourselves 
+through any sentiment of religion to demons, when it belongs to the true 
+
+
+religion to deliver us from that depravity which makes us like to them! 
+For Apuleius himself, although he is very sparing toward them, and 
+thinks they are worthy of divine honours, is nevertheless compelled to 
+confess that they are subject to anger; and the true religion commands us 
+not to be moved with anger, but rather to resist it. The demons are won 
+over by gifts; and the true religion commands us to favour no one on 
+account of gifts received. The demons are flattered by honours; but the 
+true religion commands us by no means to be moved by such things. The 
+demons are haters of some men and lovers of others, not in consequence 
+of a prudent and calm judgment, but because of what he calls their 
+“passive soul;” whereas the true religion commands us to love even our 
+enemies. Lastly, the true religion commands us to put away all 
+disquietude of heart, and agitation of mind, and also all commotions and 
+tempests of the soul, which Apuleius asserts to be continually swelling 
+and surging in the souls of demons. Why, therefore, except through 
+foolishness and miserable error, shouldst thou humble thyself to worship 
+a being to whom thou desirest to be unlike in thy life? And why shouldst 
+thou pay religious homage to him whom thou art unwilling to imitate, 
+when it is the highest duty of religion to imitate Him whom thou 
+worshippest? 
+
+
+18. What kind of religion that is which teaches that men ought to employ the advocacy of demons 
+
+
+in order to be recommended to the favour of the good gods 
+
+
+In vain, therefore, have Apuleius, and they who think with him, 
+conferred on the demons the honour of placing them in the air, between 
+the ethereal heavens and the earth, that they may carry to the gods the 
+prayers of men, to men the answers of the gods; for Plato held, they say, 
+that no god has intercourse with man. They who believe these things 
+have thought it unbecoming that men should have intercourse with the 
+gods, and the gods with men, but a befitting thing that the demons 
+should have intercourse with both gods and men, presenting to the gods 
+the petitions of men, and conveying to men what the gods have granted; 
+so that a chaste man, and one who is a stranger to the crimes of the 
+magic arts, must use as patrons, through whom the gods may be induced 
+to hear him, demons who love these crimes, although the very fact of his 
+not loving them ought to have recommended him to them as one who 
+deserved to be listened to with greater readiness and willingness on their 
+
+
+part. They love the abominations of the stage, which chastity does not 
+love. They love, in the sorceries of the magicians, “a thousand arts of 
+inflicting harm,”!9 which innocence does not love. Yet both chastity and 
+innocence, if they wish to obtain anything from the gods, will not be 
+able to do so by their own merits, except their enemies act as mediators 
+on their behalf. Apuleius need not attempt to justify the fictions of the 
+poets, and the mockeries of the stage. If human modesty can act so 
+faithlessly towards itself as not only to love shameful things, but even to 
+think that they are pleasing to the divinity, we can cite on the other side 
+their own highest authority and teacher, Plato. 
+
+
+19. Of the impiety of the magic art, which is dependent on the assistance of malign spirits 
+
+
+Moreover, against those magic arts, concerning which some men, 
+exceedingly wretched and exceedingly impious, delight to boast, may 
+not public opinion itself be brought forward as a witness? For why are 
+those arts so severely punished by the laws, if they are the works of 
+deities who ought to be worshipped? Shall it be said that the Christians 
+have ordained those laws by which magic arts are punished? With what 
+other meaning, except that these sorceries are without doubt pernicious 
+to the human race, did the most illustrious poet say, 
+
+
+“By heaven, I swear, and your dear life, 
+Unwillingly these arms I wield, 
+And take, to meet the coming strife, 
+
+
+Enchantment’s sword and shield.”29 
+
+
+And that also which he says in another place concerning magic arts, 
+
+
+“l’ve seen him to another place transport the standing corn,”2! 
+
+
+has reference to the fact that the fruits of one field are said to be 
+transferred to another by these arts which this pestiferous and accursed 
+doctrine teaches. Does not Cicero inform us that, among the laws of the 
+Twelve Tables, that is, the most ancient laws of the Romans, there was a 
+law written which appointed a punishment to be inflicted on him who 
+should do this?22 Lastly, was it before Christian judges that Apuleius 
+himself was accused of magic arts?23 Had he known these arts to be 
+
+
+divine and pious, and congruous with the works of divine power, he 
+ought not only to have confessed, but also to have professed them, 
+rather blaming the laws by which these things were prohibited and 
+pronounced worthy of condemnation, while they ought to have been 
+held worthy of admiration and respect. For by so doing, either he would 
+have persuaded the judges to adopt his own opinion, or, if they had 
+shown their partiality for unjust laws, and condemned him to death 
+notwithstanding his praising and commending such things, the demons 
+would have bestowed on his soul such rewards as he deserved, who, in 
+order to proclaim and set forth their divine works, had not feared the 
+loss of his human life. As our martyrs, when that religion was charged 
+on them as a crime, by which they knew they were made safe and most 
+glorious throughout eternity, did not choose, by denying it, to escape 
+temporal punishments, but rather by confessing, professing, and 
+proclaiming it, by enduring all things for it with fidelity and fortitude, 
+and by dying for it with pious calmness, put to shame the law by which 
+the religion was prohibited, and caused its revocation. But there is 
+extant a most copious and eloquent oration of this Platonic philosopher, 
+in which he defends himself against the charge of practising these arts, 
+affirming that he is wholly a stranger to them, and only wishing to show 
+his innocence by denying such things as cannot be innocently 
+committed. But all the miracles of the magicians, who he thinks are 
+justly deserving of condemnation, are performed according to the 
+teaching and by the power of demons. Why, then, does he think that 
+they ought to be honoured? For he asserts that they are necessary, in 
+order to present our prayers to the gods, and yet their works are such as 
+we must shun if we wish our prayers to reach the true God. Again, I ask, 
+what kind of prayers of men does he suppose are presented to the good 
+gods by the demons? If magical prayers, they will have none such; if 
+lawful prayers, they will not receive them through such beings. But if a 
+sinner who is penitent pour out prayers, especially if he has committed 
+any crime of sorcery, does he receive pardon through the intercession of 
+those demons by whose instigation and help he has fallen into the sin he 
+mourns? or do the demons themselves, in order that they may merit 
+pardon for the penitent, first become penitents because they have 
+deceived them? This no one ever said concerning the demons; for had 
+this been the case, they would never have dared to seek for themselves 
+
+
+divine honours. For how should they do so who desired by penitence to 
+obtain the grace of pardon, seeing that such detestable pride could not 
+exist along with a humility worthy of pardon? 
+
+
+20. Whether we are to believe that the good gods are more willing to have intercourse with 
+
+
+demons than with men 
+
+
+But does any urgent and most pressing cause compel the demons to 
+mediate between the gods and men, that they may offer the prayers of 
+men, and bring back the answers from the gods? and if so, what, pray, is 
+that cause, what is that so great necessity? Because, say they, no god has 
+intercourse with man. Most admirable holiness of God, which has no 
+intercourse with a supplicating man, and yet has intercourse with an 
+arrogant demon! which has no intercourse with a penitent man, and yet 
+has intercourse with a deceiving demon! which has no intercourse with a 
+man fleeing for refuge to the divine nature, and yet has intercourse with 
+a demon feigning divinity! which has no intercourse with a man seeking 
+pardon, and yet has intercourse with a demon persuading to wickedness! 
+which has no intercourse with a man expelling the poets by means of 
+philosophical writings from a _ well-regulated state, and yet has 
+intercourse with a demon requesting from the princes and priests of a 
+state the theatrical performance of the mockeries of the poets! which has 
+no intercourse with the man who prohibits the ascribing of crime to the 
+gods, and yet has intercourse with a demon who takes delight in the 
+fictitious representation of their crimes! which has no intercourse with a 
+man punishing the crimes of the magicians by just laws, and yet has 
+intercourse with a demon teaching and practising magical arts! which 
+has no intercourse with a man shunning the imitation of a demon, and 
+yet has intercourse with a demon lying in wait for the deception of a 
+man! 
+
+
+21. Whether the gods use the demons as messengers and interpreters, and whether they are 
+
+
+deceived by them willingly, or without their own knowledge 
+
+
+But herein, no doubt, lies the great necessity for this absurdity, so 
+unworthy of the gods, that the ethereal gods, who are concerned about 
+human affairs, would not know what terrestrial men were doing unless 
+the aerial demons should bring them intelligence, because the ether is 
+suspended far away from the earth and far above it, but the air is 
+
+
+contiguous both to the ether and to the earth. O admirable wisdom! 
+what else do these men think concerning the gods who, they say, are all 
+in the highest degree good, but that they are concerned about human 
+affairs, lest they should seem unworthy of worship, whilst, on the other 
+hand, from the distance between the elements, they are ignorant of 
+terrestrial things? It is on this account that they have supposed the 
+demons to be necessary as agents, through whom the gods may inform 
+themselves with respect to human affairs, and through whom, when 
+necessary, they may succour men; and it is on account of this office that 
+the demons themselves have been held as deserving of worship. If this be 
+the case, then a demon is better known by these good gods through 
+nearness of body, than a man is by goodness of mind. O mournful 
+necessity! or shall I not rather say detestable and vain error, that I may 
+not impute vanity to the divine nature! For if the gods can, with their 
+minds free from the hindrance of bodies, see our mind, they do not need 
+the demons as messengers from our mind to them; but if the ethereal 
+gods, by means of their bodies, perceive the corporeal indices of minds, 
+as the countenance, speech, motion, and thence understand what the 
+demons tell them, then it is also possible that they may be deceived by 
+the falsehoods of demons. Moreover, if the divinity of the gods cannot be 
+deceived by the demons, neither can it be ignorant of our actions. But I 
+would they would tell me whether the demons have informed the gods 
+that the fictions of the poets concerning the crimes of the gods displease 
+Plato, concealing the pleasure which they themselves take in them; or 
+whether they have concealed both, and have preferred that the gods 
+should be ignorant with respect to this whole matter, or have told both, 
+as well the pious prudence of Plato with respect to the gods as their own 
+lust, which is injurious to the gods; or whether they have concealed 
+Plato’s opinion, according to which he was unwilling that the gods 
+should be defamed with falsely alleged crimes through the impious 
+licence of the poets, whilst they have not been ashamed nor afraid to 
+make known their own wickedness, which makes them love theatrical 
+plays, in which the infamous deeds of the gods are celebrated. Let them 
+choose which they will of these four alternatives, and let them consider 
+how much evil any one of them would require them to think of the gods. 
+For if they choose the first, they must then confess that it was not 
+possible for the good gods to dwell with the good Plato, though he 
+
+
+sought to prohibit things injurious to them, whilst they dwelt with evil 
+demons, who exulted in their injuries; and this because they suppose 
+that the good gods can only know a good man, placed at so great a 
+distance from them, through the mediation of evil demons, whom they 
+could know on account of their nearness to themselves.24 If they shall 
+choose the second, and shall say that both these things are concealed by 
+the demons, so that the gods are wholly ignorant both of Plato’s most 
+religious law and the sacrilegious pleasure of the demons, what, in that 
+case, can the gods know to any profit with respect to human affairs 
+through these mediating demons, when they do not know those things 
+which are decreed, through the piety of good men, for the honour of the 
+good gods against the lust of evil demons? But if they shall choose the 
+third, and reply that these intermediary demons have communicated, 
+not only the opinion of Plato, which prohibited wrongs to be done to the 
+gods, but also their own delight in these wrongs, I would ask if such a 
+communication is not rather an insult? Now the gods, hearing both and 
+knowing both, not only permit the approach of those malign demons, 
+who desire and do things contrary to the dignity of the gods and the 
+religion of Plato, but also, through these wicked demons, who are near 
+to them, send good things to the good Plato, who is far away from them; 
+for they inhabit such a place in the concatenated series of the elements, 
+that they can come into contact with those by whom they are accused, 
+but not with him by whom they are defended—knowing the truth on 
+both sides, but not being able to change the weight of the air and the 
+earth. There remains the fourth supposition; but it is worse than the rest. 
+For who will suffer it to be said that the demons have made known the 
+calumnious fictions of the poets concerning the immortal gods, and also 
+the disgraceful mockeries of the theatres, and their own most ardent lust 
+after, and most sweet pleasure in these things, whilst they have 
+concealed from them that Plato, with the gravity of a philosopher, gave 
+it as his opinion that all these things ought to be removed from a well- 
+regulated republic; so that good gods are now compelled, through such 
+messengers, to know the evil doings of the most wicked beings, that is to 
+say, of the messengers themselves, and are not allowed to know the good 
+deeds of the philosophers, though the former are for the injury, but these 
+latter for the honour of the gods themselves? 
+
+
+22. That we must, notwithstanding the opinion of Apuleius, reject the worship of demons 
+
+
+None of these four alternatives, then, is to be chosen; for we dare not 
+suppose such unbecoming things concerning the gods as the adoption of 
+any one of them would lead us to think. It remains, therefore, that no 
+credence whatever is to be given to the opinion of Apuleius and the 
+other philosophers of the same school, namely, that the demons act as 
+messengers and interpreters between the gods and men to carry our 
+petitions from us to the gods, and to bring back to us the help of the 
+gods. On the contrary, we must believe them to be spirits most eager to 
+inflict harm, utterly alien from righteousness, swollen with pride, pale 
+with envy, subtle in deceit; who dwell indeed in this air as in a prison, in 
+keeping with their own character, because, cast down from the height of 
+the higher heaven, they have been condemned to dwell in this element 
+as the just reward of irretrievable transgression. But, though the air is 
+situated above the earth and the waters, they are not on that account 
+superior in merit to men, who, though they do not surpass them as far as 
+their earthly bodies are concerned, do nevertheless far excel them 
+through piety of mind—they having made choice of the true God as their 
+helper. Over many, however, who are manifestly unworthy of 
+participation in the true religion, they tyrannize as over captives whom 
+they have subdued—the greatest part of whom they have persuaded of 
+their divinity by wonderful and lying signs, consisting either of deeds or 
+of predictions. Some, nevertheless, who have more attentively and 
+diligently considered their vices, they have not been able to persuade 
+that they are gods, and so have feigned themselves to be messengers 
+between the gods and men. Some, indeed, have thought that not even 
+this latter honour ought to be acknowledged as belonging to them, not 
+believing that they were gods, because they saw that they were wicked, 
+whereas the gods, according to their view, are all good. Nevertheless 
+they dared not say that they were wholly unworthy of all divine honour, 
+for fear of offending the multitude, by whom, through inveterate 
+superstition, the demons were served by the performance of many rites, 
+and the erection of many temples. 
+
+
+23. What Hermes Trismegistus thought concerning idolatry, and from what source he knew that 
+the superstitions of Egypt were to be abolished 
+
+
+The Egyptian Hermes, whom they call Trismegistus, had a different 
+
+
+opinion concerning those demons. Apuleius, indeed, denies that they are 
+gods; but when he says that they hold a middle place between the gods 
+and men, so that they seem to be necessary for men as mediators 
+between them and the gods, he does not distinguish between the 
+worship due to them and the religious homage due to the supernal gods. 
+This Egyptian, however, says that there some gods made by the supreme 
+God, and some made by men. Any one who hears this, as I have stated 
+it, no doubt supposes that it has reference to images, because they are 
+the works of the hands of men; but he asserts that visible and tangible 
+images are, as it were, only the bodies of the gods, and that there dwell 
+in them certain spirits, which have been invited to come into them, and 
+which have power to inflict harm, or to fulfil the desires of those by 
+whom divine honours and services are rendered to them. To unite, 
+therefore, by a certain art, those invisible spirits to visible and material 
+things, so as to make, as it were, animated bodies, dedicated and given 
+up to those spirits who inhabit them—this, he says, is to make gods, 
+adding that men have received this great and wonderful power. I will 
+give the words of this Egyptian as they have been translated into our 
+tongue: “And, since we have undertaken to discourse concerning the 
+relationship and fellowship between men and the gods, know, O 
+Aésculapius, the power and strength of man. As the Lord and Father, or 
+that which is highest, even God, is the maker of the celestial gods, so 
+man is the maker of the gods who are in the temples, content to dwell 
+near to men.”25 And a little after he says, “Thus humanity, always 
+mindful of its nature and origin, perseveres in the imitation of divinity; 
+and as the Lord and Father made eternal gods, that they should be like 
+Himself, so humanity fashioned its own gods according to the likeness of 
+its own countenance.” When this A‘sculapius, to whom especially he was 
+speaking, had answered him, and had said, “Dost thou mean the statues, 
+O Trismegistus?”—“Yes, the statues,” replied he, “however unbelieving 
+thou art, O Aisculapius—the statues, animated, and full of sensation and 
+spirit, and who do such great and wonderful things—the statues, 
+prescient of future things, and foretelling them by lot, by prophet, by 
+dreams, and many other things, who bring diseases on men and cure 
+them again, giving them joy or sorrow according to their merits. Dost 
+thou not know, O Atsculapius, that Egypt is an image of heaven, or, 
+more truly, a translation and descent of all things which are ordered and 
+
+
+transacted there—that it is, in truth, if we may say so, to be the temple 
+of the whole world? And yet, as it becomes the prudent man to know all 
+things beforehand, ye ought not to be ignorant of this, that there is a 
+time coming when it shall appear that the Egyptians have all in vain, 
+with pious mind, and with most scrupulous diligence, waited on the 
+divinity, and when all their holy worship shall come to nought, and be 
+found to be in vain.” 
+
+Hermes then follows out at great length the statements of this passage, 
+in which he seems to predict the present time, in which the Christian 
+religion is overthrowing all lying figments with a vehemence and liberty 
+proportioned to its superior truth and holiness, in order that the grace of 
+the true Saviour may deliver men from those gods which man has made, 
+and subject them to that God by whom man was made. But when 
+Hermes predicts these things, he speaks as one who is a friend to these 
+same mockeries of demons, and does not clearly express the name of 
+Christ. On the contrary, he deplores, as if it had already taken place, the 
+future abolition of those things by the observance of which there was 
+maintained in Egypt a resemblance of heaven—he bears witness to 
+Christianity by a kind of mournful prophecy. Now it was with reference 
+to such that the apostle said, that “knowing God, they glorified Him not 
+as God, neither were thankful, but became vain in their imaginations, 
+and their foolish heart was darkened; professing themselves to be wise, 
+they became fools, and changed the glory of the incorruptible God into 
+the likeness of the image of corruptible man,”2° and so on, for the whole 
+passage is too long to quote. For Hermes makes many such statements 
+agreeable to the truth concerning the one true God who fashioned this 
+world. And I know not how he has become so bewildered by that 
+“darkening of the heart” as to stumble into the expression of a desire 
+that men should always continue in subjection to those gods which he 
+confesses to be made by men, and to bewail their future removal; as if 
+there could be anything more wretched than mankind tyrannized over 
+by the work of his own hands, since man, by worshipping the works of 
+his own hands, may more easily cease to be man, than the works of his 
+hands can, through his worship of them, become gods. For it can sooner 
+happen that man, who has received an honourable position, may, 
+through lack of understanding, become comparable to the beasts, than 
+that the works of man may become preferable to the work of God, made 
+
+
+in His own image, that is, to man himself. Wherefore deservedly is man 
+left to fall away from Him who made him, when he prefers to himself 
+that which he himself has made. 
+
+For these vain, deceitful, pernicious, sacrilegious things did the 
+Egyptian Hermes sorrow, because he knew that the time was coming 
+when they should be removed. But his sorrow was as impudently 
+expressed as his knowledge was imprudently obtained; for it was not the 
+Holy Spirit who revealed these things to him, as He had done to the holy 
+prophets, who, foreseeing these things, said with exultation, “If a man 
+shall make gods, lo, they are no gods;”27 and in another place, “And it 
+shall come to pass in that day, saith the Lord, that I will cut off the 
+names of the idols out of the land, and they shall no more be 
+remembered.”28 But the holy Isaiah prophesies expressly concerning 
+Egypt in reference to this matter, saying, “And the idols of Egypt shall be 
+moved at His presence, and their heart shall be overcome in them,”29 
+and other things to the same effect. And with the prophet are to be 
+classed those who rejoiced that that which they knew was to come had 
+actually come—as Simeon, or Anna, who immediately recognised Jesus 
+when He was born, or Elisabeth, who in the Spirit recognised Him when 
+He was conceived, or Peter, who said by the revelation of the Father, 
+“Thou art Christ, the Son of the living God.”3° But to this Egyptian those 
+spirits indicated the time of their own destruction, who also, when the 
+Lord was present in the flesh, said with trembling, “Art Thou come 
+hither to destroy us before the time?”3! meaning by destruction before 
+the time, either that very destruction which they expected to come, but 
+which they did not think would come so suddenly as it appeared to have 
+done, or only that destruction which consisted in their being brought 
+into contempt by being made known. And, indeed, this was a destruction 
+before the time, that is, before the time of judgment, when they are to be 
+punished with eternal damnation, together with all men who are 
+implicated in their wickedness, as the true religion declares, which 
+neither errs nor leads into error; for it is not like him who, blown hither 
+and thither by every wind of doctrine, and mixing true things with 
+things which are false, bewails as about to perish a religion which he 
+afterwards confesses to be error. 
+
+
+24. How Hermes openly confessed the error of his forefathers, the coming destruction of which 
+
+
+he nevertheless bewailed 
+
+
+After a long interval, Hermes again comes back to the subject of the 
+gods which men have made, saying as follows: “But enough on this 
+subject. Let us return to man and to reason, that divine gift on account 
+of which man has been called a rational animal. For the things which 
+have been said concerning man, wonderful though they are, are less 
+wonderful than those which have been said concerning reason. For man 
+to discover the divine nature, and to make it, surpasses the wonder of all 
+other wonderful things. Because, therefore, our forefathers erred very far 
+with respect to the knowledge of the gods, through incredulity and 
+through want of attention to their worship and service, they invented 
+this art of making gods; and this art once invented, they associated with 
+it a suitable virtue borrowed from universal nature, and, being incapable 
+of making souls, they evoked those of demons or of angels, and united 
+them with these holy images and divine mysteries, in order that through 
+these souls the images might have power to do good or harm to men.” I 
+know not whether the demons themselves could have been made, even 
+by adjuration, to confess as he has confessed in these words: “Because 
+our forefathers erred very far with respect to the knowledge of the gods, 
+through incredulity and through want of attention to their worship and 
+service, they invented the art of making gods.” Does he say that it was a 
+moderate degree of error which resulted in their discovery of the art of 
+making gods, or was he content to say “they erred?” No; he must needs 
+add “very far,” and say, “They erred very far.” It was this great error and 
+incredulity, then, of their forefathers who did not attend to the worship 
+and service of the gods, which was the origin of the art of making gods. 
+And yet this wise man grieves over the ruin of this art at some future 
+time, as if it were a divine religion. Is he not verily compelled by divine 
+influence, on the one hand, to reveal the past error of his forefathers, 
+and by a diabolical influence, on the other hand, to bewail the future 
+punishment of demons? For if their forefathers, by erring very far with 
+respect to the knowledge of the gods, through incredulity and aversion 
+of mind from their worship and service, invented the art of making gods, 
+what wonder is it that all that is done by this detestable art, which is 
+opposed to the divine religion, should be taken away by that religion, 
+when truth corrects error, faith refutes incredulity, and conversion 
+
+
+rectifies aversion? 
+
+For if he had only said, without mentioning the cause, that his 
+forefathers had discovered the art of making gods, it would have been 
+our duty, if we paid any regard to what is right and pious, to consider 
+and to see that they could never have attained to this art if they had not 
+erred from the truth, if they had believed those things which are worthy 
+of God, if they had attended to divine worship and service. However, if 
+we alone should say that the causes of this art were to be found in the 
+great error and incredulity of men, and aversion of the mind erring from 
+and unfaithful to divine religion, the impudence of those who resist the 
+truth were in some way to be borne with; but when he who admires in 
+man, above all other things, this power which it has been granted him to 
+practise, and sorrows because a time is coming when all those figments 
+of gods invented by men shall even be commanded by the laws to be 
+taken away—when even this man confesses nevertheless, and explains 
+the causes which led to the discovery of this art, saying that their 
+ancestors, through great error and incredulity, and through not 
+attending to the worship and service of the gods, invented this art of 
+making gods—what ought we to say, or rather to do, but to give to the 
+Lord our God all the thanks we are able, because He has taken away 
+those things by causes the contrary of those which led to their 
+institution? For that which the prevalence of error instituted, the way of 
+truth took away; that which incredulity instituted, faith took away; that 
+which aversion from divine worship and service instituted, conversion to 
+the one true and holy God took away. Nor was this the case only in 
+Egypt, for which country alone the spirit of the demons lamented in 
+Hermes, but in all the earth, which sings to the Lord a new song,?2 as the 
+truly holy and truly prophetic Scriptures have predicted, in which it is 
+written, “Sing unto the Lord a new song; sing unto the Lord, all the 
+earth.” For the title of this psalm is, “When the house was built after the 
+captivity.” For a house is being built to the Lord in all the earth, even 
+the city of God, which is the holy Church, after that captivity in which 
+demons held captive those men who, through faith in God, became 
+living stones in the house. For although man made gods, it did not 
+follow that he who made them was not held captive by them, when, by 
+worshipping them, he was drawn into fellowship with them—into the 
+fellowship not of stolid idols, but of cunning demons; for what are idols 
+
+
+but what they are represented to be in the same Scriptures, “They have 
+eyes, but they do not see,”33 and, though artistically fashioned, are still 
+without life and sensation? But unclean spirits, associated through that 
+wicked art with these same idols, have miserably taken captive the souls 
+of their worshippers, by bringing them down into fellowship with 
+themselves. Whence the apostle says, “We know that an idol is nothing, 
+but those things which the Gentiles sacrifice they sacrifice to demons, 
+and not to God; and I would not ye should have fellowship with 
+demons.”34 After this captivity, therefore, in which men were held by 
+malign demons, the house of God is being built in all the earth; whence 
+the title of that psalm in which it is said, “Sing unto the Lord a new 
+song; sing unto the Lord, all the earth. Sing unto the Lord, bless His 
+name; declare well His salvation from day to day. Declare His glory 
+among the nations, among all people His wonderful things. For great is 
+the Lord, and much to be praised: He is terrible above all gods. For all 
+the gods of the nations are demons: but the Lord made the heavens.”35 
+Wherefore he who sorrowed because a time was coming when the 
+worship of idols should be abolished, and the domination of the demons 
+over those who worshipped them, wished, under the influence of a 
+demon, that that captivity should always continue, at the cessation of 
+which that psalm celebrates the building of the house of the Lord in all 
+the earth. Hermes foretold these things with grief, the prophet with 
+joyfulness; and because the Spirit is victorious who sang these things 
+through the ancient prophets, even Hermes himself was compelled in a 
+wonderful manner to confess, that those very things which he wished 
+not to be removed, and at the prospect of whose removal he was 
+sorrowful, had been instituted, not by prudent, faithful, and religious, 
+but by erring and unbelieving men, averse to the worship and service of 
+the gods. And although he calls them gods, nevertheless, when he says 
+that they were made by such men as we certainly ought not to be, he 
+shows, whether he will or not, that they are not to be worshipped by 
+those who do not resemble these image-makers, that is, by prudent, 
+faithful, and religious men, at the same time also making it manifest that 
+the very men who made them involved themselves in the worship of 
+those as gods who were not gods. For true is the saying of the prophet, 
+“If a man make gods, lo, they are no gods.”36 Such gods, therefore, 
+acknowledged by such worshippers and made by such men, did Hermes 
+
+
+call “gods made by men,” that is to say, demons, through some art of I 
+know not what description, bound by the chains of their own lusts to 
+images. But, nevertheless, he did not agree with that opinion of the 
+Platonic Apuleius, of which we have already shown the incongruity and 
+absurdity, namely, that they were interpreters and intercessors between 
+the gods whom God made, and men whom the same God made, bringing 
+to God the prayers of men, and from God the gifts given in answer to 
+these prayers. For it is exceedingly stupid to believe that gods whom 
+men have made have more influence with gods whom God has made 
+than men themselves have, whom the very same God has made. And 
+consider, too, that it is a demon which bound by a man to an image by 
+means of an impious art, has been made a god, but a god to such a man 
+only, not to every man. What kind of god, therefore, is that which no 
+man would make but one erring, incredulous, and averse to the true 
+God? Moreover, if the demons which are worshipped in the temples, 
+being introduced by some kind of strange art into images, that is, into 
+visible representations of themselves, by those men who by this art made 
+gods when they were straying away from, and were averse to the 
+worship and service of the gods—if, I say, those demons are neither 
+mediators nor interpreters between men and the gods, both on account 
+of their own most wicked and base manners, and because men, though 
+erring, incredulous, and averse from the worship and service of the gods, 
+are nevertheless beyond doubt better than the demons whom they 
+themselves have evoked, then it remains to be affirmed that what power 
+they possess they possess as demons, doing harm by bestowing 
+pretended benefits—harm all the greater for the deception—or else 
+openly and undisguisedly doing evil to men. They cannot, however, do 
+anything of this kind unless where they are permitted by the deep and 
+secret providence of God, and then only so far as they are permitted. 
+When, however, they are permitted, it is not because they, being 
+midway between men and the gods, have through the friendship of the 
+gods great power over men; for these demons cannot possibly be friends 
+to the good gods who dwell in the holy and heavenly habitation, by 
+whom we mean holy angels and rational creatures, whether thrones, or 
+dominations, or principalities, or powers, from whom they are as far 
+separated in disposition and character as vice is distant from virtue, 
+wickedness from goodness. 
+
+
+25. Concerning those things which may be common to the holy angels and to men 
+
+
+Wherefore we must by no means seek, through the supposed 
+mediation of demons, to avail ourselves of the benevolence or 
+beneficence of the gods, or rather of the good angels, but through 
+resembling them in the possession of a good will, through which we are 
+with them, and live with them, and worship with them the same God, 
+although we cannot see them with the eyes of our flesh. But it is not in 
+locality we are distant from them, but in merit of life, caused by our 
+miserable unlikeness to them in will, and by the weakness of our 
+character; for the mere fact of our dwelling on earth under the 
+conditions of life in the flesh does not prevent our fellowship with them. 
+It is only prevented when we, in the impurity of our hearts, mind earthly 
+things. But in this present time, while we are being healed that we may 
+eventually be as they are, we are brought near to them by faith, if by 
+their assistance we believe that He who is their blessedness is also ours. 
+
+
+26. That all the religion of the pagans has reference to dead men 
+
+
+It is certainly a remarkable thing how this Egyptian, when expressing 
+his grief that a time was coming when those things would be taken away 
+from Egypt, which he confesses to have been invented by men erring, 
+incredulous, and averse to the service of divine religion, says, among 
+other things, “Then shall that land, the most holy place of shrines and 
+temples, be full of sepulchres and dead men,” as if, in sooth, if these 
+things were not taken away, men would not die! as if dead bodies could 
+be buried elsewhere than in the ground! as if, as time advanced, the 
+number of sepulchres must not necessarily increase in proportion to the 
+increase of the number of the dead! But they who are of a perverse 
+mind, and opposed to us, suppose that what he grieves for is that the 
+memorials of our martyrs were to succeed to their temples and shrines, 
+in order, forsooth, that they may have grounds for thinking that gods 
+were worshipped by the pagans in temples, but that dead men are 
+worshipped by us in sepulchres. For with such blindness do impious 
+men, as it were, stumble over mountains, and will not see the things 
+which strike their own eyes, that they do not attend to the fact that in all 
+the literature of the pagans there are not found any, or scarcely any 
+gods, who have not been men, to whom, when dead, divine honours 
+have been paid. I will not enlarge on the fact that Varro says that all 
+
+
+dead men are thought by them to be gods Manes, and proves it by those 
+sacred rites which are performed in honour of almost all the dead, 
+among which he mentions funeral games, considering this the very 
+highest proof of divinity, because games are only wont to be celebrated 
+in honour of divinities. Hermes himself, of whom we are now treating, in 
+that same book in which, as if foretelling future things, he says with 
+sorrow, “Then shall that land, the most holy place of shrines and 
+temples, be full of sepulchres and dead men,” testifies that the gods of 
+Egypt were dead men. For, having said that their forefathers, erring very 
+far with respect to the knowledge of the gods, incredulous and 
+inattentive to the divine worship and service, invented the art of making 
+gods, with which art, when invented, they associated the appropriate 
+virtue which is inherent in universal nature, and by mixing up that 
+virtue with this art, they called forth the souls of demons or of angels 
+(for they could not make souls), and caused them to take possession of, 
+or associate themselves with holy images and divine mysteries, in order 
+that through these souls the images might have power to do good or 
+harm to men;—having said this, he goes on, as it were, to prove it by 
+illustrations, saying, “Thy grandsire, O A‘sculapius, the first discoverer of 
+medicine, to whom a temple was consecrated in a mountain of Libya, 
+near to the shore of the crocodiles, in which temple lies his earthly man, 
+that is, his body—for the better part of him, or rather the whole of him, 
+if the whole man is in the intelligent life, went back to heaven—affords 
+even now by his divinity all those helps to infirm men, which formerly 
+he was wont to afford to them by the art of medicine.” He says, 
+therefore, that a dead man was worshipped as a god in that place where 
+he had his sepulchre. He deceives men by a falsehood, for the man 
+“went back to heaven.” Then he adds, “Does not Hermes, who was my 
+grand-sire, and whose name I bear, abiding in the country which is 
+called by his name, help and preserve all mortals who come to him from 
+every quarter?” For this elder Hermes, that is, Mercury, who, he says, 
+was his grandsire, is said to be buried in Hermopolis, that is, in the city 
+called by his name; so here are two gods whom he affirms to have been 
+men, Aisculapius and Mercury. Now concerning A‘sculapius, both the 
+Greeks and the Latins think the same thing; but as to Mercury, there are 
+many who do not think that he was formerly a mortal, though Hermes 
+testifies that he was his grandsire. But are these two different individuals 
+
+
+who were called by the same name? I will not dispute much whether 
+they are different individuals or not. It is sufficient to know that this 
+Mercury of whom Hermes speaks is, as well as Aisculapius, a god who 
+once was a man, according to the testimony of this same Tris-megistus, 
+esteemed so great by his countrymen, and also the grandson of Mercury 
+himself. 
+
+Hermes goes on to say, “But do we know how many good things Isis, 
+the wife of Osiris, bestows when she is propitious, and what great 
+opposition she can offer when enraged?” Then, in order to show that 
+there were gods made by men through this art, he goes on to say, “For it 
+is easy for earthly and mundane gods to be angry, being made and 
+composed by men out of either nature;” thus giving us to understand 
+that he believed that demons were formerly the souls of dead men, 
+which, as he says, by means of a certain art invented by men very far in 
+error, incredulous, and irreligious, were caused to take possession of 
+images, because they who made such gods were not able to make souls. 
+When, therefore, he says “either nature,” he means soul and body—the 
+demon being the soul, and the image the body. What, then, becomes of 
+that mournful complaint, that the land of Egypt, the most holy place of 
+shrines and temples, was to be full of sepulchres and dead men? Verily, 
+the fallacious spirit, by whose inspiration Hermes spoke these things, 
+was compelled to confess through him that even already that land was 
+full of sepulchres and of dead men, whom they were worshipping as 
+gods. But it was the grief of the demons which was expressing itself 
+through his mouth, who were sorrowing on account of the punishments 
+which were about to fall upon them at the tombs of the martyrs. For in 
+many such places they are tortured and compelled to confess, and are 
+cast out of the bodies of men, of which they had taken possession. 
+
+
+27. Concerning the nature of the honour which the Christians pay to their martyrs 
+
+
+But, nevertheless, we do not build temples, and ordain priests, rites, 
+and sacrifices for these same martyrs; for they are not our gods, but their 
+God is our God. Certainly we honour their reliquaries, as the memorials 
+of holy men of God who strove for the truth even to the death of their 
+bodies, that the true religion might be made known, and false and 
+fictitious religions exposed. For if there were some before them who 
+thought that these religions were really false and fictitious, they were 
+
+
+afraid to give expression to their convictions. But who ever heard a 
+priest of the faithful, standing at an altar built for the honour and 
+worship of God over the holy body of some martyr, say in the prayers, I 
+offer to thee a sacrifice, O Peter, or O Paul, or O Cyprian? for it is to God 
+that sacrifices are offered at their tombs—the God who made them both 
+men and martyrs, and associated them with holy angels in celestial 
+honour; and the reason why we pay such honours to their memory is, 
+that by so doing we may both give thanks to the true God for their 
+victories, and, by recalling them afresh to remembrance, may stir 
+ourselves up to imitate them by seeking to obtain like crowns and palms, 
+calling to our help that same God on whom they called. Therefore, 
+whatever honours the religious may pay in the places of the martyrs, 
+they are but honours rendered to their memory,?7 not sacred rites or 
+sacrifices offered to dead men as to gods. And even such as bring thither 
+food—which, indeed, is not done by the better Christians, and in most 
+places of the world is not done at all—do so in order that it may be 
+sanctified to them through the merits of the martyrs, in the name of the 
+Lord of the martyrs, first presenting the food and offering prayer, and 
+thereafter taking it away to be eaten, or to be in part bestowed upon the 
+needy.38 But he who knows the one sacrifice of Christians, which is the 
+sacrifice offered in those places, also knows that these are not sacrifices 
+offered to the martyrs. It is, then, neither with divine honours nor with 
+human crimes, by which they worship their gods, that we honour our 
+martyrs; neither do we offer sacrifices to them, or convert the crimes of 
+the gods into their sacred rites. For let those who will and can read the 
+letter of Alexander to his mother Olympias, in which he tells the things 
+which were revealed to him by the priest Leon, and let those who have 
+read it recall to memory what it contains, that they may see what great 
+abominations have been handed down to memory, not by poets, but by 
+the mystic writings of the Egyptians, concerning the goddess Isis, the 
+wife of Osiris, and the parents of both, all of whom, according to these 
+writings, were royal personages. Isis, when sacrificing to her parents, is 
+said to have discovered a crop of barley, of which she brought some ears 
+to the king her husband, and his councillor Mercurius, and hence they 
+identify her with Ceres. Those who read the letter may there see what 
+was the character of those people to whom when dead sacred rites were 
+instituted as to gods, and what those deeds of theirs were which 
+
+
+furnished the occasion for these rites. Let them not once dare to compare 
+in any respect those people, though they hold them to be gods, to our 
+holy martyrs, though we do not hold them to be gods. For we do not 
+ordain priests and offer sacrifices to our martyrs, as they do to their dead 
+men, for that would be incongruous, undue, and unlawful, such being 
+due only to God; and thus we do not delight them with their own crimes, 
+or with such shameful plays as those in which the crimes of the gods are 
+celebrated, which are either real crimes committed by them at a time 
+when they were men, or else, if they never were men, fictitious crimes 
+invented for the pleasure of noxious demons. The god of Socrates, if he 
+had a god, cannot have belonged to this class of demons. But perhaps 
+they who wished to excel in this art of making gods, imposed a god of 
+this sort on a man who was a stranger to, and innocent of any 
+connection with that art. What need we say more? No one who is even 
+moderately wise imagines that demons are to be worshipped on account 
+of the blessed life which is to be after death. But perhaps they will say 
+that all the gods are good, but that of the demons some are bad and 
+some good, and that it is the good who are to be worshipped, in order 
+that through them we may attain to the eternally blessed life. To the 
+examination of this opinion we will devote the following book. 
+
+
+1 Wisdom vii. 24-27. 
+
+2 “Sapiens,” that is, a wise man, one who had attained to wisdom. 
+3 Finem boni. 
+
+4 Dii majorum gentium. 
+
+5 Booki. 13. 
+
+6 Rom. i. 19, 20. 
+
+7 Col. ii. 8. 
+
+8 Rom. i. 19, 20. 
+
+2 Acts xvii. 28. 
+
+10 Rom. i. 21-23. 
+
+11 De Doctrina Christiana, ii. 43. Comp. Retract. ii. 4, 2. 
+
+12 Liberating Jewish slaves, and sending gifts to the temple. See Josephus. Ant. xii. 2. 
+13 Gen. i. 1, 2. 
+
+
+14 Spiritus. 
+
+
+15 Ex, iii. 14. 
+
+16 Rom. i. 20. 
+
+17 Ch. 14. 
+
+18 De Deo Socratis. 
+
+19 Virgil, Ain. 7. 338. 
+
+20 Virgil, Æ. 4. 492, 493. 
+21 Virgil, Ec. 8. 99. 
+
+
+22 Pliny (Hist. Nat. xxviii. 2) and others quote the law as running: “Qui fruges incantasit, qui 
+
+
+malum carmen incantasit.... neu alienam segetem pelexeris.” 
+23 Before Claudius, the prefect of Africa, a heathen. 
+24Another reading, “whom they could not know, though near to themselves.” 
+
+
+25 These quotations are from a dialogue between Hermes and A‘sculapius, which is said to have 
+
+
+been translated into Latin by Apuleius. 
+26 Rom. i. 21. 
+
+27 Jer. xvi. 20. 
+
+28 Zech. xiii. 2. 
+
+29 Isa. xix. 1. 
+
+30 Matt. xvi. 16. 
+
+31 Matt. viii. 29. 
+
+32 Ps, xcvi. 1. 
+
+33 Ps. cxv. 5, etc. 
+
+34 1 Cor. x. 19, 20. 
+
+35 Ps. xcvi. 1-5. 
+
+36 Jer. xvi. 20. 
+
+37 Ornamenta memoriarum. 
+
+
+38 Comp. The Confessions, vi. 2. 
+
+
+BOOK NINTH 
+
+
+ARGUMENT 
+
+
+HAVING IN THE PRECEDING BOOK SHOWN THAT THE WORSHIP OF DEMONS MUST BE ABJURED, SINCE THEY IN A 
+THOUSAND WAYS PROCLAIM THEMSELVES TO BE WICKED SPIRITS, AUGUSTINE IN THIS BOOK MEETS THOSE WHO 
+ALLEGE A DISTINCTION AMONG DEMONS, SOME BEING EVIL, WHILE OTHERS ARE GOOD; AND HAVING EXPLODED 
+THIS DISTINCTION, HE PROVES THAT TO NO DEMON, BUT TO CHRIST ALONE, BELONGS THE OFFICE OF 
+
+
+PROVIDING MEN WITH ETERNAL BLESSEDNESS. 
+
+
+1. The point at which the discussion has arrived, and what remains to be handled 
+
+
+S ome have advanced the opinion that there are both good and bad 
+gods; but some, thinking more respectfully of the gods, have 
+attributed to them so much honour and praise as to preclude the 
+supposition of any god being wicked. But those who have maintained 
+that there are wicked gods as well as good ones have included the 
+demons under the name “gods,” and sometimes, though more rarely, 
+have called the gods demons; so that they admit that Jupiter, whom they 
+make the king and head of all the rest, is called a demon by Homer.! 
+Those, on the other hand, who maintain that the gods are all good, and 
+far more excellent than the men who are justly called good, are moved 
+by the actions of the demons, which they can neither deny nor impute to 
+the gods whose goodness they affirm, to distinguish between gods and 
+demons; so that, whenever they find anything offensive in the deeds or 
+sentiments by which unseen spirits manifest their power, they believe 
+this to proceed not from the gods, but from the demons. At the same 
+time they believe that, as no god can hold direct intercourse with men, 
+these demons hold the position of mediators, ascending with prayers, 
+and returning with gifts. This is the opinion of the Platonists, the ablest 
+and most esteemed of their philosophers, with whom we therefore chose 
+to debate this question—whether the worship of a number of gods is of 
+any service towards obtaining blessedness in the future life. And this is 
+
+
+the reason why, in the preceding book, we have inquired how the 
+demons, who take pleasure in such things as good and wise men loathe 
+and execrate, in the sacrilegious and immoral fictions which the poets 
+have written, not of men, but of the gods themselves, and in the wicked 
+and criminal violence of magical arts, can be regarded as more nearly 
+related and more friendly to the gods than men are, and can mediate 
+between good men and the good gods; and it has been demonstrated 
+that this is absolutely impossible. 
+
+
+2. Whether among the demons, inferior to the gods, there are any good spirits under whose 
+
+
+guardianship the human soul might reach true blessedness 
+
+
+This book, then, ought, according to the promise made in the end of 
+the preceding one, to contain a discussion, not of the difference which 
+exists among the gods, who, according to the Platonists, are all good, nor 
+of the difference between gods and demons, the former of whom they 
+separate by a wide interval from men, while the latter are placed 
+intermediately between the gods and men, but of the difference, since 
+they make one, among the demons themselves. This we shall discuss so 
+far as it bears on our theme. It has been the common and usual belief 
+that some of the demons are bad, others good; and this opinion, whether 
+it be that of the Platonists or any other sect, must by no means be passed 
+over in silence, lest some one suppose he ought to cultivate the good 
+demons in order that by their mediation he may be accepted by the 
+gods, all of whom he believes to be good, and that he may live with 
+them after death; whereas he would thus be ensnared in the toils of 
+wicked spirits, and would wander far from the true God, with whom 
+alone, and in whom alone, the human soul, that is to say, the soul that is 
+rational and intellectual, is blessed. 
+
+
+3. What Apuleius attributes to the demons, to whom, though he does not deny them reason, he 
+
+
+does not ascribe virtue 
+
+
+What, then, is the difference between good and evil demons? For the 
+Platonist Apuleius, in a treatise on this whole subject,2 while he says a 
+great deal about their aerial bodies, has not a word to say of the spiritual 
+virtues with which, if they were good, they must have been endowed. 
+Not a word has he said, then, of that which could give them happiness; 
+but proof of their misery he has given, acknowledging that their mind, 
+
+
+by which they rank as reasonable beings, is not only not imbued and 
+fortified with virtue so as to resist all unreasonable passions, but that it 
+is somehow agitated with tempestuous emotions, and is thus on a level 
+with the mind of foolish men. His own words are: “It is this class of 
+demons the poets refer to, when, without serious error, they feign that 
+the gods hate and love individuals among men, prospering and 
+ennobling some, and opposing and distressing others. Therefore, pity, 
+indignation, grief, joy, every human emotion is experienced by the 
+demons, with the same mental disturbance, and the same tide of feeling 
+and thought. These turmoils and tempests banish them far from the 
+tranquillity of the celestial gods.” Can there be any doubt that in these 
+words it is not some inferior part of their spiritual nature, but the very 
+mind by which the demons hold their rank as rational beings, which he 
+says is tossed with passion like a stormy sea? They cannot, then, be 
+compared even to wise men, who with undisturbed mind resist these 
+perturbations to which they are exposed in this life, and from which 
+human infirmity is never exempt, and who do not yield themselves to 
+approve of or perpetrate anything which might deflect them from the 
+path of wisdom and law of rectitude. They resemble in character, though 
+not in bodily appearance, wicked and foolish men. I might indeed say 
+they are worse, inasmuch as they have grown old in iniquity, and 
+incorrigible by punishment. Their mind, as Apuleius says, is a sea tossed 
+with tempest, having no rallying point of truth or virtue in their soul 
+from which they can resist their turbulent and depraved emotions. 
+
+
+4. The opinion of the Peripatetics and Stoics about mental emotions 
+
+
+Among the philosophers there are two opinions about these mental 
+emotions, which the Greeks call *46n, while some of our own writers, as 
+Cicero, call them perturbations, some affections, and some, to render 
+the Greek word more accurately, passions. Some say that even the wise 
+man is subject to these perturbations, though moderated and controlled 
+by reason, which imposes laws upon them, and so restrains them within 
+necessary bounds. This is the opinion of the Platonists and Aristotelians; 
+for Aristotle was Plato’s disciple, and the founder of the Peripatetic 
+school. But others, as the Stoics, are of opinion that the wise man is not 
+subject to these perturbations. But Cicero, in his book De Finibus, shows 
+that the Stoics are here at variance with the Platonists and Peripatetics 
+
+
+rather in words than in reality; for the Stoics decline to apply the term 
+“goods” to external and bodily advantages,* because they reckon that 
+the only good is virtue, the art of living well, and this exists only in the 
+mind. The other philosophers, again, use the simple and customary 
+phraseology, and do not scruple to call these things goods, though in 
+comparison of virtue, which guides our life, they are little and of small 
+esteem. And thus it is obvious that, whether these outward things are 
+called goods or advantages, they are held in the same estimation by both 
+parties, and that in this matter the Stoics are pleasing themselves merely 
+with a novel phraseology. It seems, then, to me that in this question, 
+whether the wise man is subject to mental passions, or wholly free from 
+them, the controversy is one of words rather than of things; for I think 
+that, if the reality and not the mere sound of the words is considered, the 
+Stoics hold precisely the same opinion as the Platonists and Peripatetics. 
+For, omitting for brevity’s sake other proofs which I might adduce in 
+support of this opinion, I will state but one which I consider conclusive. 
+Aulus Gellius, a man of extensive erudition, and gifted with an eloquent 
+and graceful style, relates, in his work entitled Noctes Attice,> that he 
+once made a voyage with an eminent Stoic philosopher; and he goes on 
+to relate fully and with gusto what I shall barely state, that when the 
+ship was tossed and in danger from a violent storm, the philosopher 
+grew pale with terror. This was noticed by those on board, who, though 
+themselves threatened with death, were curious to see whether a 
+philosopher would be agitated like other men. When the tempest had 
+passed over, and as soon as their security gave them freedom to resume 
+their talk, one of the passengers, a rich and luxurious Asiatic, begins to 
+banter the philosopher, and rally him because he had even become pale 
+with fear, while he himself had been unmoved by the impending 
+destruction. But the philosopher availed himself of the reply of 
+Aristippus the Socratic, who, on finding himself similarly bantered by a 
+man of the same character, answered, “You had no cause for anxiety for 
+the soul of a profligate debauchee, but I had reason to be alarmed for the 
+soul of Aristippus.” The rich man being thus disposed of, Aulus Gellius 
+asked the philosopher, in the interests of science and not to annoy him, 
+what was the reason of his fear? And he, willing to instruct a man so 
+zealous in the pursuit of knowledge, at once took from his wallet a book 
+of Epictetus the Stoic,© in which doctrines were advanced which 
+
+
+precisely harmonized with those of Zeno and Chrysippus, the founders of 
+the Stoical school. Aulus Gellius says that he read in this book that the 
+Stoics maintain that there are certain impressions made on the soul by 
+external objects which they call phantasie, and that it is not in the power 
+of the soul to determine whether or when it shall be invaded by these. 
+When these impressions are made by alarming and formidable objects, it 
+must needs be that they move the soul even of the wise man, so that for 
+a little he trembles with fear, or is depressed by sadness, these 
+impressions anticipating the work of reason and self-control; but this 
+does not imply that the mind accepts these evil impressions, or approves 
+or consents to them. For this consent is, they think, in a man’s power; 
+there being this difference between the mind of the wise man and that of 
+the fool, that the fool’s mind yields to these passions and consents to 
+them, while that of the wise man, though it cannot help being invaded 
+by them, yet retains with unshaken firmness a true and steady 
+persuasion of those things which it ought rationally to desire or avoid. 
+This account of what Aulus Gellius relates that he read in the book of 
+Epictetus about the sentiments and doctrines of the Stoics I have given 
+as well as I could, not, perhaps, with his choice language, but with 
+greater brevity, and, I think, with greater clearness. And if this be true, 
+then there is no difference, or next to none, between the opinion of the 
+Stoics and that of the other philosophers regarding mental passions and 
+perturbations, for both parties agree in maintaining that the mind and 
+reason of the wise man are not subject to these. And perhaps what the 
+Stoics mean by asserting this, is that the wisdom which characterizes the 
+wise man is clouded by no error and sullied by no taint, but, with this 
+reservation that his wisdom remains undisturbed, he is exposed to the 
+impressions which the goods and ills of this life (or, as they prefer to call 
+them, the advantages or disadvantages) make upon them. For we need 
+not say that if that philosopher had thought nothing of those things 
+which he thought he was forthwith to lose, life and bodily safety, he 
+would not have been so terrified by his danger as to betray his fear by 
+the pallor of his cheek. Nevertheless, he might suffer this mental 
+disturbance, and yet maintain the fixed persuasion that life and bodily 
+safety, which the violence of the tempest threatened to destroy, are not 
+those good things which make their possessors good, as the possession of 
+righteousness does. But in so far as they persist that we must call them 
+
+
+not goods but advantages, they quarrel about words and neglect things. 
+For what difference does it make whether goods or advantages be the 
+better name, while the Stoic no less than the Peripatetic is alarmed at 
+the prospect of losing them, and while, though they name them 
+differently, they hold them in like esteem? Both parties assure us that, if 
+urged to the commission of some immorality or crime by the threatened 
+loss of these goods or advantages, they would prefer to lose such things 
+as preserve bodily comfort and security rather than commit such things 
+as violate righteousness. And thus the mind in which this resolution is 
+well grounded suffers no perturbations to prevail with it in opposition to 
+reason, even though they assail the weaker parts of the soul; and not 
+only so, but it rules over them, and, while it refuses its consent and 
+resists them, administers a reign of virtue. Such a character is ascribed to 
+Æneas by Virgil when he says, 
+
+
+“He stands immovable by tears, 
+
+
+Nor tenderest words with pity hears.”7 
+
+
+5. That the passions which assail the souls of Christians do not seduce them to vice, but exercise 
+
+
+their virtue 
+
+
+We need not at present give a careful and copious exposition of the 
+doctrine of Scripture, the sum of Christian knowledge, regarding these 
+passions. It subjects the mind itself to God, that He may rule and aid it, 
+and the passions, again, to the mind, to moderate and bridle them, and 
+turn them to righteous uses. In our ethics, we do not so much inquire 
+whether a pious soul is angry, as why he is angry; not whether he is sad, 
+but what is the cause of his sadness; not whether he fears, but what he 
+fears. For I am not aware that any right thinking person would find fault 
+with anger at a wrongdoer which seeks his amendment, or with sadness 
+which intends relief to the suffering, or with fear lest one in danger be 
+destroyed. The Stoics, indeed, are accustomed to condemn compassion.® 
+But how much more honourable had it been in that Stoic we have been 
+telling of, had he been disturbed by compassion prompting him to 
+relieve a fellow-creature, than to be disturbed by the fear of shipwreck? 
+Far better, and more humane, and more consonant with pious 
+sentiments, are the words of Cicero in praise of Cæsar, when he says, 
+“Among your virtues none is more admirable and agreeable than your 
+
+
+compassion.”? And what is compassion but a fellow-feeling for another’s 
+misery, which prompts us to help him if we can? And this emotion is 
+obedient to reason, when compassion is shown without violating right, 
+as when the poor are relieved, or the penitent forgiven. Cicero, who 
+knew how to use language, did not hesitate to call this a virtue, which 
+the Stoics are not ashamed to reckon among the vices, although, as the 
+book of that eminent Stoic, Epictetus, quoting the opinions of Zeno and 
+Chrysippus, the founders of the school, has taught us, they admit that 
+passions of this kind invade the soul of the wise man, whom they would 
+have to be free from all vice. Whence it follows that these very passions 
+are not judged by them to be vices, since they assail the wise man 
+without forcing him to act against reason and virtue; and that, therefore, 
+the opinion of the Peripatetics or Platonists and of the Stoics is one and 
+the same. But, as Cicero says,!9 mere logomachy is the bane of these 
+pitiful Greeks, who thirst for contention rather than for truth. However, 
+it may justly be asked, whether our subjection to these affections, even 
+while we follow virtue, is a part of the infirmity of this life? For the holy 
+angels feel no anger while they punish those whom the eternal law of 
+God consigns to punishment, no fellow-feeling with misery while they 
+relieve the miserable, no fear while they aid those who are in danger; 
+and yet ordinary language ascribes to them also these mental emotions, 
+because, though they have none of our weakness, their acts resemble the 
+actions to which these emotions move us; and thus even God Himself is 
+said in Scripture to be angry, and yet without any perturbation. For this 
+word is used of the effect of His vengeance, not of the disturbing mental 
+affection. 
+
+
+6. Of the passions which, according to Apuleius, agitate the demons who are supposed by him 
+
+
+to mediate between gods and men 
+
+
+Deferring for the present the question about the holy angels, let us 
+examine the opinion of the Platonists, that the demons who mediate 
+between gods and men are agitated by passions. For if their mind, 
+though exposed to their incursion, still remained free and superior to 
+them, Apuleius could not have said that their hearts are tossed with 
+passions as the sea by stormy winds.1!1 Their mind, then—that superior 
+part of their soul whereby they are rational beings, and which, if it 
+
+
+actually exists in them, should rule and bridle the turbulent passions of 
+the inferior parts of the soul—this mind of theirs, I say, is, according to 
+the Platonist referred to, tossed with a hurricane of passions. The mind 
+of the demons, therefore, is subject to the emotions of fear, anger, lust, 
+and all similar affections. What part of them, then, is free, and endued 
+with wisdom, so that they are pleasing to the gods, and the fit guides of 
+men into purity of life, since their very highest part, being the slave of 
+passion and subject to vice, only makes them more intent on deceiving 
+and seducing, in proportion to the mental force and energy of desire 
+they possess? 
+
+
+7. That the Platonists maintain that the poets wrong the gods by representing them as distracted by 
+party feeling, to which the demons, and not the gods, are subject 
+
+
+But if any one says that it is not of all the demons, but only of the 
+wicked, that the poets, not without truth, say that they violently love or 
+hate certain men—for it was of them Apuleius said that they were driven 
+about by strong currents of emotion—how can we accept this 
+interpretation, when Apuleius, in the very same connection, represents 
+all the demons, and not only the wicked, as intermediate between gods 
+and men by their aerial bodies? The fiction of the poets, according to 
+him, consists in their making gods of demons, and giving them the 
+names of gods, and assigning them as allies or enemies to individual 
+men, using this poetical licence, though they profess that the gods are 
+very different in character from the demons, and far exalted above them 
+by their celestial abode and wealth of beatitude. This, I say, is the poets’ 
+fiction, to say that these are gods who are not gods, and that, under the 
+names of gods, they fight among themselves about the men whom they 
+love or hate with keen partisan feeling. Apuleius says that this is not far 
+from the truth, since, though they are wrongfully called by the names of 
+the gods, they are described in their own proper character as demons. To 
+this category, he says, belongs the Minerva of Homer, “who interposed 
+in the ranks of the Greeks to restrain Achilles.”12 For that this was 
+Minerva he supposes to be poetical fiction; for he thinks that Minerva is 
+a goddess, and he places her among the gods whom he believes to be all 
+good and blessed in the sublime ethereal region, remote from 
+intercourse with men. But that there was a demon favourable to the 
+Greeks and adverse to the Trojans, as another, whom the same poet 
+
+
+mentions under the name of Venus or Mars (gods exalted above earthly 
+affairs in their heavenly habitations), was the Trojans’ ally and the foe of 
+the Greeks, and that these demons fought for those they loved against 
+those they hated—in all this he owned that the poets stated something 
+very like the truth. For they made these statements about beings to 
+whom he ascribes the same violent and tempestuous passions as disturb 
+men, and who are therefore capable of loves and hatreds not justly 
+formed, but formed in a party spirit, as the spectators in races or hunts 
+take fancies and prejudices. It seems to have been the great fear of this 
+Platonist that the poetical fictions should be believed of the gods, and 
+not of the demons who bore their names. 
+
+
+8. How Apuleius defines the gods who dwell in heaven, the demons who occupy the air, and men 
+
+
+who inhabit earth 
+
+
+The definition which Apuleius gives of demons, and in which he of 
+course includes all demons, is that they are in nature animals, in soul 
+subject to passion, in mind reasonable, in body aerial, in duration 
+eternal. Now in these five qualities he has named absolutely nothing 
+which is proper to good men and not also to bad. For when Apuleius had 
+spoken of the celestials first, and had then extended his description so as 
+to include an account of those who dwell far below on the earth, that, 
+after describing the two extremes of rational being, he might proceed to 
+speak of the intermediate demons, he says, “Men, therefore, who are 
+endowed with the faculty of reason and speech, whose soul is immortal 
+and their members mortal, who have weak and anxious spirits, dull and 
+corruptible bodies, dissimilar characters, similar ignorance, who are 
+obstinate in their audacity, and persistent in their hope, whose labour is 
+vain, and whose fortune is ever on the wane, their race immortal, 
+themselves perishing, each generation replenished with creatures whose 
+life is swift and their wisdom slow, their death sudden and their life a 
+wail—these are the men who dwell on the earth.”!3 In recounting so 
+many qualities which belong to the large proportion of men, did he 
+forget that which is the property of the few when he speaks of their 
+wisdom being slow? If this had been omitted, this his description of the 
+human race, so carefully elaborated, would have been defective. And 
+when he commended the excellence of the gods, he affirmed that they 
+excelled in that very blessedness to which he thinks men must attain by 
+
+
+wisdom. And therefore, if he had wished us to believe that some of the 
+demons are good, he should have inserted in his description something 
+by which we might see that they have, in common with the gods, some 
+share of blessedness, or, in common with men, some wisdom. But, as it 
+is, he has mentioned no good quality by which the good may be 
+distinguished from the bad. For although he refrained from giving a full 
+account of their wickedness, through fear of offending, not themselves 
+but their worshippers, for whom he was writing, yet he sufficiently 
+indicated to discerning readers what opinion he had of them; for only in 
+the one article of the eternity of their bodies does he assimilate them to 
+the gods, all of whom, he asserts, are good and blessed, and absolutely 
+free from what he himself calls the stormy passions of the demons; and 
+as to the soul, he quite plainly affirms that they resemble men and not 
+the gods, and that this resemblance lies not in the possession of wisdom, 
+which even men can attain to, but in the perturbation of passions which 
+sway the foolish and wicked, but is so ruled by the good and wise that 
+they prefer not to admit rather than to conquer it. For if he had wished 
+it to be understood that the demons resembled the gods in the eternity 
+not of their bodies but of their souls, he would certainly have admitted 
+men to share in this privilege, because, as a Platonist, he of course must 
+hold that the human soul is eternal. Accordingly, when describing this 
+race of living beings, he said that their souls were immortal, their 
+members mortal. And, consequently, if men have not eternity in 
+common with the gods because they have mortal bodies, demons have 
+eternity in common with the gods because their bodies are immortal. 
+
+
+9. Whether the intercession of the demons can secure for men the friendship of the celestial gods 
+
+
+How, then, can men hope for a favourable introduction to the 
+friendship of the gods by such mediators as these, who are, like men, 
+defective in that which is the better part of every living creature, viz. the 
+soul, and who resemble the gods only in the body, which is the inferior 
+part? For a living creature or animal consists of soul and body, and of 
+these two parts the soul is undoubtedly the better; even though vicious 
+and weak, it is obviously better than even the soundest and strongest 
+body, for the greater excellence of its nature is not reduced to the level 
+of the body even by the pollution of vice, as gold, even when tarnished, 
+is more precious than the purest silver or lead. And yet these mediators, 
+
+
+by whose interposition things human and divine are to be harmonized, 
+have an eternal body in common with the gods and a vicious soul in 
+common with men—as if the religion by which these demons are to 
+unite gods and men were a bodily, and not a spiritual matter. What 
+wickedness, then, or punishment has suspended these false and deceitful 
+mediators, as it were head downwards, so that their inferior part, their 
+body, is linked to the gods above, and their superior part, the soul, 
+bound to men beneath; united to the celestial gods by the part that 
+serves, and miserable, together with the inhabitants of earth, by the part 
+that rules? For the body is the servant, as Sallust says: “We use the soul 
+to rule, the body to obey;”14 adding, “the one we have in common with 
+the gods, the other with the brutes.” For he was here speaking of men; 
+and they have, like the brutes, a mortal body. These demons, whom our 
+philosophic friends have provided for us as mediators with the gods, 
+may indeed say of the soul and body, the one we have in common with 
+the gods, the other with men; but, as I said, they are as it were 
+suspended and bound head downwards, having the slave, the body, in 
+common with the gods, the master, the soul, in common with miserable 
+men—their inferior part exalted, their superior part depressed. And 
+therefore, if any one supposes that, because they are not subject, like 
+terrestrial animals, to the separation of soul and body by death, they 
+therefore resemble the gods in their eternity, their body must not be 
+considered a chariot of an eternal triumph, but rather the chain of an 
+eternal punishment. 
+
+
+10. That, according to Plotinus, men, whose body is mortal, are less wretched than demons, 
+
+
+whose body is eternal 
+
+
+Plotinus, whose memory is quite recent,!5 enjoys the reputation of 
+having understood Plato better than any other of his disciples. In 
+speaking of human souls, he says, “The Father in compassion made their 
+bonds mortal;”!6 that is to say, he considered it due to the Father’s 
+mercy that men, having a mortal body, should not be for ever confined 
+in the misery of this life. But of this mercy the demons have been judged 
+unworthy, and they have received, in conjunction with a soul subject to 
+passions, a body not mortal like man’s, but eternal. For they should have 
+been happier than men if they had, like men, had a mortal body, and, 
+like the gods, a blessed soul. And they should have been equal to men, if 
+
+
+in conjunction with a miserable soul they had at least received, like men, 
+a mortal body, so that death might have freed them from trouble, if, at 
+least, they should have attained some degree of piety. But, as it is, they 
+are not only no happier than men, having, like them, a miserable soul, 
+they are also more wretched, being eternally bound to the body; for he 
+does not leave us to infer that by some progress in wisdom and piety 
+they can become gods, but expressly says that they are demons for ever. 
+
+
+11. Of the opinion of the Platonists, that the souls of men become demons when disembodied 
+
+
+He!7 says, indeed, that the souls of men are demons, and that men 
+become Lares if they are good, Lemures or Larve if they are bad, and 
+Manes if it is uncertain whether they deserve well or ill. Who does not 
+see at a glance that this is a mere whirlpool sucking men to moral 
+destruction? For, however wicked men have been, if they suppose they 
+shall become Larve or divine Manes, they will become the worse the 
+more love they have for inflicting injury; for, as the Larve are hurtful 
+demons made out of wicked men, these men must suppose that after 
+death they will be invoked with sacrifices and divine honours that they 
+may inflict injuries. But this question we must not pursue. He also states 
+that the blessed are called in Greek e8aipoves, because they are good souls, 
+that is to say, good demons, confirming his opinion that the souls of men 
+are demons. 
+
+
+12. Of the three opposite qualities by which the Platonists distinguish between the nature of men 
+
+
+and that of demons 
+
+
+But at present we are speaking of those beings whom he described as 
+being properly intermediate between gods and men, in nature animals, 
+in mind rational, in soul subject to passion, in body aerial, in duration 
+eternal. When he had distinguished the gods, whom he placed in the 
+highest heaven, from men, whom he placed on earth, not only by 
+position but also by the unequal dignity of their natures, he concluded in 
+these words: “You have here two kinds of animals: the gods, widely 
+distinguished from men by sublimity of abode, perpetuity of life, 
+perfection of nature; for their habitations are separated by so wide an 
+interval that there can be no intimate communication between them, 
+and while the vitality of the one is eternal and indefeasible, that of the 
+others is fading and precarious, and while the spirits of the gods are 
+
+
+exalted in bliss, those of men are sunk in miseries.”!8 Here I find three 
+opposite qualities ascribed to the extremes of being, the highest and 
+lowest. For, after mentioning the three qualities for which we are to 
+admire the gods, he repeated, though in other words, the same three as a 
+foil to the defects of man. The three qualities are, “sublimity of abode, 
+perpetuity of life, perfection of nature.” These he again mentioned so as 
+to bring out their contrasts in man’s condition. As he had mentioned 
+“sublimity of abode,” he says, “Their habitations are separated by so 
+wide an interval;” as he had mentioned “perpetuity of life,” he says, that 
+“while divine life is eternal and indefeasible, human life is fading and 
+precarious;” and as he had mentioned “perfection of nature,” he says, 
+that “while the spirits of the gods are exalted in bliss, those of men are 
+sunk in miseries.” These three things, then, he predicates of the gods, 
+exaltation, eternity, blessedness; and of man he predicates the opposite, 
+lowliness of habitation, mortality, misery. 
+
+
+13. How the demons can mediate between gods and men if they have nothing in common with 
+
+
+both, being neither blessed like the gods, nor miserable like men 
+
+
+If, now, we endeavour to find between these opposites the mean 
+occupied by the demons, there can be no question as to their local 
+position; for, between the highest and lowest place, there is a place 
+which is rightly considered and called the middle place. The other two 
+qualities remain, and to them we must give greater care, that we may 
+see whether they are altogether foreign to the demons, or how they are 
+so bestowed upon them without infringing upon their mediate position. 
+We may dismiss the idea that they are foreign to them. For we cannot 
+say that the demons, being rational animals, are neither blessed nor 
+wretched, as we say of the beasts and plants, which are void of feeling 
+and reason, or as we say of the middle place, that it is neither the 
+highest nor the lowest. The demons, being rational, must be either 
+miserable or blessed. And, in like manner, we cannot say that they are 
+neither mortal nor immortal; for all living things either live eternally or 
+end life in death. Our author, besides, stated that the demons are 
+eternal. What remains for us to suppose, then, but that these mediate 
+beings are assimilated to the gods in one of the two remaining qualities, 
+and to men in the other? For if they received both from above, or both 
+from beneath, they should no longer be mediate, but either rise to the 
+
+
+gods above, or sink to men beneath. Therefore, as it has been 
+demonstrated that they must possess these two qualities, they will hold 
+their middle place if they receive one from each party. Consequently, as 
+they cannot receive their eternity from beneath, because it is not there to 
+receive, they must get it from above; and accordingly they have no 
+choice but to complete their mediate position by accepting misery from 
+men. 
+
+According to the Platonists, then, the gods, who occupy the highest 
+place, enjoy eternal blessedness, or blessed eternity; men, who occupy 
+the lowest, a mortal misery, or a miserable mortality; and the demons, 
+who occupy the mean, a miserable eternity, or an eternal misery. As to 
+those five things which Apuleius included in his definition of demons, he 
+did not show, as he promised, that the demons are mediate. For three of 
+them, that their nature is animal, their mind rational, their soul subject 
+to passions, he said that they have in common with men; one thing, their 
+eternity, in common with the gods; and one proper to themselves, their 
+aerial body. How, then, are they intermediate, when they have three 
+things in common with the lowest, and only one in common with the 
+highest? Who does not see that the intermediate position is abandoned 
+in proportion as they tend to, and are depressed towards, the lowest 
+extreme? But perhaps we are to accept them as intermediate because of 
+their one property of an aerial body, as the two extremes have each their 
+proper body, the gods an ethereal, men a terrestrial body, and because 
+two of the qualities they possess in common with man they possess also 
+in common with the gods, namely, their animal nature and rational 
+mind. For Apuleius himself, in speaking of gods and men, said, “You 
+have two animal natures.” And Platonists are wont to ascribe a rational 
+mind to the gods. Two qualities remain, their liability to passion, and 
+their eternity—the first of which they have in common with men, the 
+second with the gods; so that they are neither wafted to the highest nor 
+depressed to the lowest extreme, but perfectly poised in their 
+intermediate position. But then, this is the very circumstance which 
+constitutes the eternal misery, or miserable eternity, of the demons. For 
+he who says that their soul is subject to passions would also have said 
+that they are miserable, had he not blushed for their worshippers. 
+Moreover, as the world is governed, not by fortuitous haphazard, but, as 
+the Platonists themselves avow, by the providence of the supreme God, 
+
+
+the misery of the demons would not be eternal unless their wickedness 
+were great. 
+
+If, then, the blessed are rightly styled eudemons, the demons 
+intermediate between gods and men are not eudemons. What, then, is 
+the local position of those good demons, who, above men but beneath 
+the gods, afford assistance to the former, minister to the latter? For if 
+they are good and eternal, they are doubtless blessed. But eternal 
+blessedness destroys their intermediate character, giving them a close 
+resemblance to the gods, and widely separating them from men. And 
+therefore the Platonists will in vain strive to show how the good demons, 
+if they are both immortal and blessed, can justly be said to hold a middle 
+place between the gods, who are immortal and blessed, and men, who 
+are mortal and miserable. For if they have both immortality and 
+blessedness in common with the gods, and neither of these in common 
+with men, who are both miserable and mortal, are they not rather 
+remote from men and united with the gods, than intermediate between 
+them? They would be intermediate if they held one of their qualities in 
+common with the one party, and the other with the other, as man is a 
+kind of mean between angels and beasts—the beast being an irrational 
+and mortal animal, the angel a rational and immortal one, while man, 
+inferior to the angel and superior to the beast, and having in common 
+with the one mortality, and with the other reason, is a rational and 
+mortal animal. So, when we seek for an intermediate between the 
+blessed immortals and miserable mortals, we should find a being which 
+is either mortal and blessed, or immortal and miserable. 
+
+
+14. Whether men, though mortal, can enjoy true blessedness 
+
+
+It is a great question among men, whether man can be mortal and 
+blessed. Some, taking the humbler view of his condition, have denied 
+that he is capable of blessedness so long as he continues in this mortal 
+life; others, again, have spurned this idea, and have been bold enough to 
+maintain that, even though mortal, men may be blessed by attaining 
+wisdom. But if this be the case, why are not these wise men constituted 
+mediators between miserable mortals and the blessed immortals, since 
+they have blessedness in common with the latter, and mortality in 
+common with the former? Certainly, if they are blessed, they envy no 
+one (for what more miserable than envy?), but seek with all their might 
+
+
+to help miserable mortals on to blessedness, so that after death they may 
+become immortal, and be associated with the blessed and immortal 
+angels. 
+
+
+15. Of the man Christ Jesus, the Mediator between God and men 
+
+
+But if, as is much more probable and credible, it must needs be that all 
+men, so long as they are mortal, are also miserable, we must seek an 
+intermediate who is not only man, but also God, that, by the 
+interposition of His blessed mortality, He may bring men out of their 
+mortal misery to a blessed immortality. In this intermediate two things 
+are requisite, that He become mortal, and that He do not continue 
+mortal. He did become mortal, not rendering the divinity of the Word 
+infirm, but assuming the infirmity of flesh. Neither did He continue 
+mortal in the flesh, but raised it from the dead; for it is the very fruit of 
+His mediation that those, for the sake of whose redemption He became 
+the Mediator, should not abide eternally in bodily death. Wherefore it 
+became the Mediator between us and God to have both a transient 
+mortality and a permanent blessedness, that by that which is transient 
+He might be assimilated to mortals, and might translate them from 
+mortality to that which is permanent. Good angels, therefore, cannot 
+mediate between miserable mortals and blessed immortals, for they 
+themselves also are both blessed and immortal; but evil angels can 
+mediate, because they are immortal like the one party, miserable like the 
+other. To these is opposed the good Mediator, who, in opposition to their 
+immortality and misery, has chosen to be mortal for a time, and has 
+been able to continue blessed in eternity. It is thus He has destroyed, by 
+the humility of His death and the benignity of His blessedness, those 
+proud immortals and hurtful wretches, and has prevented them from 
+seducing to misery by their boast of immortality those men whose hearts 
+He has cleansed by faith, and whom He has thus freed from their impure 
+dominion. 
+
+Man, then, mortal and miserable, and far removed from the immortal 
+and the blessed, what medium shall he choose by which he may be 
+united to immortality and blessedness? The immortality of the demons, 
+which might have some charm for man, is miserable; the mortality of 
+Christ, which might offend man, exists no longer. In the one there is the 
+fear of an eternal misery; in the other, death, which could not be eternal, 
+
+
+can no longer be feared, and blessedness, which is eternal, must be 
+loved. For the immortal and miserable mediator interposes himself to 
+prevent us from passing to a blessed immortality, because that which 
+hinders such a passage, namely, misery, continues in him; but the mortal 
+and blessed Mediator interposed Himself, in order that, having passed 
+through mortality, He might of mortals make immortals (showing His 
+power to do this in His own resurrection), and from being miserable to 
+raise them to the blessed company from the number of whom He had 
+Himself never departed. There is, then, a wicked mediator, who 
+separates friends, and a good Mediator, who reconciles enemies. And 
+those who separate are numerous, because the multitude of the blessed 
+are blessed only by their participation in the one God; of which 
+participation the evil angels being deprived, they are wretched, and 
+interpose to hinder rather than to help this blessedness, and by their 
+very number prevent us from reaching that one beatific good, to obtain 
+which we need not many but one Mediator, the uncreated Word of God, 
+by whom all things were made, and in partaking of whom we are 
+blessed. I do not say that He is Mediator because He is the Word, for as 
+the Word He is supremely blessed and supremely immortal, and 
+therefore far from miserable mortals; but He is Mediator as He is man, 
+for by His humanity He shows us that, in order to obtain that blessed 
+and beatific good, we need not seek other mediators to lead us through 
+the successive steps of this attainment, but that the blessed and beatific 
+God, having Himself become a partaker of our humanity, has afforded us 
+ready access to the participation of His divinity. For in delivering us 
+from our mortality and misery, He does not lead us to the immortal and 
+blessed angels, so that we should become immortal and blessed by 
+participating in their nature, but He leads us straight to that Trinity, by 
+participating in which the angels themselves are blessed. Therefore, 
+when He chose to be in the form of a servant, and lower than the angels, 
+that He might be our Mediator, He remained higher than the angels, in 
+the form of God—Himself at once the way of life on earth and life itself 
+in heaven. 
+
+
+16. Whether it is reasonable in the Platonists to determine that the celestial gods decline contact 
+with earthly things and intercourse with men, who therefore require the intercession of the 
+
+
+demons 
+
+
+That opinion, which the same Platonist avers that Plato uttered, is not 
+true, “that no god holds intercourse with men.”!9 And this, he says, is 
+the chief evidence of their exaltation, that they are never contaminated 
+by contact with men. He admits, therefore, that the demons are 
+contaminated; and it follows that they cannot cleanse those by whom 
+they are themselves contaminated, and thus all alike become impure, the 
+demons by associating with men, and men by worshipping the demons. 
+Or, if they say that the demons are not contaminated by associating and 
+dealing with men, then they are better than the gods, for the gods, were 
+they to do so, would be contaminated. For this, we are told, is the glory 
+of the gods, that they are so highly exalted that no human intercourse 
+can sully them. He affirms, indeed, that the supreme God, the Creator of 
+all things, whom we call the true God, is spoken of by Plato as the only 
+God whom the poverty of human speech fails even passably to describe; 
+and that even the wise, when their mental energy is as far as possible 
+delivered from the trammels of connection with the body, have only 
+such gleams of insight into His nature as may be compared to a flash of 
+lightning illuminating the darkness. If, then, this supreme God, who is 
+truly exalted above all things, does nevertheless visit the minds of the 
+wise, when emancipated from the body, with an intelligible and 
+ineffable presence, though this be only occasional, and as it were a swift 
+flash of light athwart the darkness, why are the other gods so sublimely 
+removed from all contact with men, as if they would be polluted by it? 
+as if it were not a sufficient refutation of this to lift up our eyes to those 
+heavenly bodies which give the earth its needful light. If the stars, 
+though they, by his account, are visible gods, are not contaminated 
+when we look at them, neither are the demons contaminated when men 
+see them quite closely. But perhaps it is the human voice, and not the 
+eye, which pollutes the gods; and therefore the demons are appointed to 
+mediate and carry men’s utterances to the gods, who keep themselves 
+remote through fear of pollution? What am I to say of the other senses? 
+For by smell neither the demons, who are present, nor the gods, though 
+they were present and inhaling the exhalations of living men, would be 
+polluted if they are not contaminated with the effluvia of the carcases 
+offered in sacrifice. As for taste, they are pressed by no necessity of 
+repairing bodily decay, so as to be reduced to ask food from men. And 
+touch is in their own power. For while it may seem that contact is so 
+
+
+called, because the sense of touch is specially concerned in it, yet the 
+gods, if so minded, might mingle with men, so as to see and be seen, 
+hear and be heard; and where is the need of touching? For men would 
+not dare to desire this, if they were favoured with the sight or 
+conversation of gods or good demons; and if through excessive curiosity 
+they should desire it, how could they accomplish their wish without the 
+consent of the god or demon, when they cannot touch so much as a 
+sparrow unless it be caged? 
+
+There is, then, nothing to hinder the gods from mingling in a bodily 
+form with men, from seeing and being seen, from speaking and hearing. 
+And if the demons do thus mix with men, as I said, and are not polluted, 
+while the gods, were they to do so, should be polluted, then the demons 
+are less liable to pollution than the gods. And if even the demons are 
+contaminated, how can they help men to attain blessedness after death, 
+if, so far from being able to cleanse them, and present them clean to the 
+unpolluted gods, these mediators are themselves polluted? And if they 
+cannot confer this benefit on men, what good can their friendly 
+mediation do? Or shall its result be, not that men find entrance to the 
+gods, but that men and demons abide together in a state of pollution, 
+and consequently of exclusion from blessedness? Unless, perhaps, some 
+one may say that, like sponges or things of that sort, the demons 
+themselves, in the process of cleansing their friends, become themselves 
+the filthier in proportion as the others become clean. But if this is the 
+solution, then the gods, who shun contact or intercourse with men for 
+fear of pollution, mix with demons who are far more polluted. Or 
+perhaps the gods, who cannot cleanse men without polluting themselves, 
+can without pollution cleanse the demons who have been contaminated 
+by human contact? Who can believe such follies, unless the demons have 
+practised their deceit upon him? If seeing and being seen is 
+contamination, and if the gods, whom Apuleius himself calls visible, “the 
+brilliant lights of the world,”2° and the other stars, are seen by men, are 
+we to believe that the demons, who cannot be seen unless they please, 
+are safer from contamination? Or if it is only the seeing and not the 
+being seen which contaminates, then they must deny that these gods of 
+theirs, these brilliant lights of the world, see men when their rays beam 
+upon the earth. Their rays are not contaminated by lighting on all 
+manner of pollution, and are we to suppose that the gods would be 
+
+
+contaminated if they mixed with men, and even if contact were needed 
+in order to assist them? For there is contact between the earth and the 
+sun’s or moon’s rays, and yet this does not pollute the light. 
+
+
+17. That to obtain the blessed life, which consists in partaking of the supreme good, man needs 
+
+
+such mediation as is furnished not by a demon, but by Christ alone 
+
+
+I am considerably surprised that such learned men, men who 
+pronounce all material and sensible things to be altogether inferior to 
+those that are spiritual and intelligible, should mention bodily contact in 
+connection with the blessed life. Is that sentiment of Plotinus forgotten? 
+—“We must fly to our beloved fatherland. There is the Father, there our 
+all. What fleet or flight shall convey us thither? Our way is, to become 
+like God.”21 If, then, one is nearer to God the liker he is to Him, there is 
+no other distance from God than unlikeness to Him. And the soul of man 
+is unlike that incorporeal and unchangeable and eternal essence, in 
+proportion as it craves things temporal and mutable. And as the things 
+beneath, which are mortal and impure, cannot hold intercourse with the 
+immortal purity which is above, a mediator is indeed needed to remove 
+this difficulty; but not a mediator who resembles the highest order of 
+being by possessing an immortal body, and the lowest by having a 
+diseased soul, which makes him rather grudge that we be healed than 
+help our cure. We need a Mediator who, being united to us here below 
+by the mortality of His body, should at the same time be able to afford 
+us truly divine help in cleansing and liberating us by means of the 
+immortal righteousness of His spirit, whereby He remained heavenly 
+even while here upon earth. Far be it from the incontaminable God to 
+fear pollution from the man22 He assumed, or from the men among 
+whom He lived in the form of a man. For, though His incarnation 
+showed us nothing else, these two wholesome facts were enough, that 
+true divinity cannot be polluted by flesh, and that demons are not to be 
+considered better than ourselves because they have not flesh.23 This, 
+then, as Scripture says, is the “Mediator between God and man, the man 
+Christ Jesus,”24 of whose divinity, whereby He is equal to the Father, 
+and humanity, whereby He has become like us, this is not the place to 
+speak as fully as I could. 
+
+
+18. That the deceitful demons, while promising to conduct men to God by their intercession, 
+mean to turn them from the path of truth 
+
+
+As to the demons, these false and deceitful mediators, who, though 
+their uncleanness of spirit frequently reveals their misery and malignity, 
+yet, by virtue of the levity of their aerial bodies and the nature of the 
+places they inhabit, do contrive to turn us aside and hinder our spiritual 
+progress; they do not help us towards God, but rather prevent us from 
+reaching Him. Since even in the bodily way, which is erroneous and 
+misleading, and in which righteousness does not walk—for we must rise 
+to God not by bodily ascent, but by incorporeal or spiritual conformity 
+to Him—in this bodily way, I say, which the friends of the demons 
+arrange according to the weight of the various elements, the aerial 
+demons being set between the ethereal gods and earthy men, they 
+imagine the gods to have this privilege, that by this local interval they 
+are preserved from the pollution of human contact. Thus they believe 
+that the demons are contaminated by men rather than men cleansed by 
+the demons, and that the gods themselves should be polluted unless their 
+local superiority preserved them. Who is so wretched a creature as to 
+expect purification by a way in which men are contaminating, demons 
+contaminated, and gods contaminable? Who would not rather choose 
+that way whereby we escape the contamination of the demons, and are 
+cleansed from pollution by the incontaminable God, so as to be 
+associated with the uncontaminated angels? 
+
+
+19. That even among their own worshippers the name “demon” has never a good signification 
+
+
+But as some of these demonolators, as I may call them, and among 
+them Labeo, allege that those whom they call demons are by others 
+called angels, I must, if I would not seem to dispute merely about words, 
+say something about the good angels. The Platonists do not deny their 
+existence, but prefer to call them good demons. But we, following 
+Scripture, according to which we are Christians, have learned that some 
+of the angels are good, some bad, but never have we read in Scripture of 
+good demons; but wherever this or any cognate term occurs, it is applied 
+only to wicked spirits. And this usage has become so universal, that, 
+even among those who are called pagans, and who maintain that 
+demons as well as gods should be worshipped, there is scarcely a man, 
+no matter how well read and learned, who would dare to say by way of 
+praise to his slave, You have a demon, or who could doubt that the man 
+to whom he said this would consider it a curse? Why, then, are we to 
+
+
+subject ourselves to the necessity of explaining away what we have said 
+when we have given offence by using the word demon, with which every 
+one, or almost every one, connects a bad meaning, while we can so 
+easily evade this necessity by using the word angel? 
+
+
+20. Of the kind of knowledge which puffs up the demons 
+
+
+However, the very origin of the name suggests something worthy of 
+consideration, if we compare it with the divine books. They are called 
+demons from a Greek word meaning knowledge.25 Now the apostle, 
+speaking with the Holy Spirit, says, “Knowledge puffeth up, but charity 
+buildeth up.”26 And this can only be understood as meaning that without 
+charity knowledge does no good, but inflates a man or magnifies him 
+with an empty windiness. The demons, then, have knowledge without 
+charity, and are thereby so inflated or proud, that they crave those 
+divine honours and religious services which they know to be due to the 
+true God, and still, as far as they can, exact these from all over whom 
+they have influence. Against this pride of the demons, under which the 
+human race was held subject as its merited punishment, there was 
+exerted the mighty influence of the humility of God, who appeared in 
+the form of a servant; but men, resembling the demons in pride, but not 
+in knowledge, and being puffed up with uncleanness, failed to recognise 
+Him. 
+
+
+21. To what extent the Lord was pleased to make Himself known to the demons 
+
+
+The devils themselves knew this manifestation of God so well, that 
+they said to the Lord, though clothed with the infirmity of flesh, “What 
+have we to do with Thee, Jesus of Nazareth? Art Thou come to destroy 
+us before the time?”2”7 From these words, it is clear that they had great 
+knowledge, and no charity. They feared His power to punish, and did 
+not love His righteousness. He made known to them so much as He 
+pleased, and He was pleased to make known so much as was needful. 
+But He made Himself known, not as to the holy angels, who know Him 
+as the Word of God, and rejoice in His eternity, which they partake, but 
+as was requisite to strike with terror the beings from whose tyranny He 
+was going to free those who were predestined to His kingdom and the 
+glory of it, eternally true and truly eternal. He made Himself known, 
+therefore, to the demons, not by that which is life eternal, and the 
+
+
+unchangeable light which illumines the pious, whose souls are cleansed 
+by the faith that is in Him, but by some temporal effects of His power, 
+and evidences of His mysterious presence, which were more easily 
+discerned by the angelic senses even of wicked spirits than by human 
+infirmity. But when He judged it advisable gradually to suppress these 
+signs, and to retire into deeper obscurity, the prince of the demons 
+doubted whether He were the Christ, and endeavoured to ascertain this 
+by tempting Him, in so far as He permitted Himself to be tempted, that 
+He might adapt the manhood He wore to be an example for our 
+imitation. But after that temptation, when, as Scripture says, He was 
+ministered to28 by the angels who are good and holy, and therefore 
+objects of terror to the impure spirits, He revealed more and more 
+distinctly to the demons how great He was, so that, even though the 
+infirmity of His flesh might seem contemptible, none dared to resist His 
+authority. 
+
+
+22. The difference between the knowledge of the holy angels and that of the demons 
+
+
+The good angels, therefore, hold cheap all that knowledge of material 
+and transitory things which the demons are so proud of possessing—not 
+that they are ignorant of these things, but because the love of God, 
+whereby they are sanctified, is very dear to them, and because, in 
+comparison of that not merely immaterial but also unchangeable and 
+ineffable beauty, with the holy love of which they are inflamed, they 
+despise all things which are beneath it, and all that is not it, that they 
+may with every good thing that is in them enjoy that good which is the 
+source of their goodness. And therefore they have a more certain 
+knowledge even of those temporal and mutable things, because they 
+contemplate their principles and causes in the word of God, by which 
+the world was made—those causes by which one thing is approved, 
+another rejected, and all arranged. But the demons do not behold in the 
+wisdom of God these eternal, and, as it were, cardinal causes of things 
+temporal, but only foresee a larger part of the future than men do, by 
+reason of their greater acquaintance with the signs which are hidden 
+from us. Sometimes, too, it is their own intentions they predict. And, 
+finally, the demons are frequently, the angels never, deceived. For it is 
+one thing, by the aid of things temporal and changeable, to conjecture 
+the changes that may occur in time, and to modify such things by one’s 
+
+
+own will and faculty—and this is to a certain extent permitted to the 
+demons—it is another thing to foresee the changes of times in the 
+eternal and immutable laws of God, which live in His wisdom, and to 
+know the will of God, the most infallible and powerful of all causes, by 
+participating in His spirit; and this is granted to the holy angels by a just 
+discretion. And thus they are not only eternal, but blessed. And the good 
+wherein they are blessed is God, by whom they were created. For 
+without end they enjoy the contemplation and participation of Him. 
+
+
+23. That the name of gods is falsely given to the gods of the Gentiles, though Scripture applies it 
+both to the holy angels and just men 
+
+
+If the Platonists prefer to call these angels gods rather than demons, 
+and to reckon them with those who Plato, their founder and master, 
+maintains were created by the supreme God,29 they are welcome to do 
+so, for I will not spend strength in fighting about words. For if they say 
+that these beings are immortal, and yet created by the supreme God, 
+blessed but by cleaving to their Creator and not by their own power, 
+they say what we say, whatever name they call these beings by. And that 
+this is the opinion either of all or the best of the Platonists can be 
+ascertained by their writings. And regarding the name itself, if they see 
+fit to call such blessed and immortal creatures gods, this need not give 
+rise to any serious discussion between us, since in our own Scriptures we 
+read, “The God of gods, the Lord hath spoken;”3° and again, “Confess to 
+the God of gods;”31 and again, “He is a great King above all gods.”32 And 
+where it is said, “He is to be feared above all gods,” the reason is 
+forthwith added, for it follows, “for all the gods of the nations are idols, 
+but the Lord made the heavens.”33 He said, “above all gods,” but added, 
+“of the nations;” that is to say, above all those whom the nations count 
+gods, in other words, demons. By them He is to be feared with that 
+terror in which they cried to the Lord, “Hast Thou come to destroy us?” 
+But where it is said, “the God of gods,” it cannot be understood as the 
+god of the demons; and far be it from us to say that “great King above all 
+gods” means “great King above all demons.” But the same Scripture also 
+calls men who belong to God’s people “gods:” “I have said, Ye are gods, 
+and all of you children of the Most High.”34 Accordingly, when God is 
+styled God of gods, this may be understood of these gods; and so, too, 
+when He is styled a great King above all gods. 
+
+
+Nevertheless, some one may say, if men are called gods because they 
+belong to God’s people, whom He addresses by means of men and 
+angels, are not the immortals, who already enjoy that felicity which men 
+seek to attain by worshipping God, much more worthy of the title? And 
+what shall we reply to this, if not that it is not without reason that in 
+holy Scripture men are more expressly styled gods than those immortal 
+and blessed spirits to whom we hope to be equal in the resurrection, 
+because there was a fear that the weakness of unbelief, being overcome 
+with the excellence of these beings, might presume to constitute some of 
+them a god? In the case of men this was a result that need not be 
+guarded against. Besides, it was right that the men belonging to God’s 
+people should be more expressly called gods, to assure and certify them 
+that He who is called God of gods is their God; because, although those 
+immortal and blessed spirits who dwell in the heavens are called gods, 
+yet they are not called gods of gods, that is to say, gods of the men who 
+constitute God’s people, and to whom it is said, “I have said, Ye are 
+gods, and all of you the children of the Most High.” Hence the saying of 
+the apostle, “Though there be that are called gods, whether in heaven or 
+in earth, as there be gods many and lords many, but to us there is but 
+one God, the Father, of whom are all things, and we in Him; and one 
+Lord Jesus Christ, by whom are all things, and we in Him.”35 
+
+We need not, therefore, laboriously contend about the name, since the 
+reality is so obvious as to admit of no shadow of doubt. That which we 
+say, that the angels who are sent to announce the will of God to men 
+belong to the order of blessed immortals, does not satisfy the Platonists, 
+because they believe that this ministry is discharged, not by those whom 
+they call gods, in other words, not by blessed immortals, but by demons, 
+whom they dare not affirm to be blessed, but only immortal, or if they 
+do rank them among the blessed immortals, yet only as good demons, 
+and not as gods who dwell in the heaven of heavens remote from all 
+human contact. But, though it may seem mere wrangling about a name, 
+yet the name of demon is so detestable that we cannot bear in any sense 
+to apply it to the holy angels. Now, therefore, let us close this book in 
+the assurance that, whatever we call these immortal and blessed spirits, 
+who yet are only creatures, they do not act as mediators to introduce to 
+everlasting felicity miserable mortals, from whom they are severed by a 
+twofold distinction. And those others who are mediators, in so far as 
+
+
+they have immortality in common with their superiors, and misery in 
+common with their inferiors (for they are justly miserable in punishment 
+of their wickedness), cannot bestow upon us, but rather grudge that we 
+should possess, the blessedness from which they themselves are 
+excluded. And so the friends of the demons have nothing considerable to 
+allege why we should rather worship them as our helpers than avoid 
+them as traitors to our interests. As for those spirits who are good, and 
+who are therefore not only immortal but also blessed, and to whom they 
+suppose we should give the title of gods, and offer worship and sacrifices 
+for the sake of inheriting a future life, we shall, by God’s help, 
+endeavour in the following book to show that these spirits, call them by 
+what name, and ascribe to them what nature you will, desire that 
+religious worship be paid to God alone, by whom they were created, and 
+by whose communications of Himself to them they are blessed. 
+
+1 See Plutarch, on the Cessation of Oracles. 
+
+2 The De Deo Socratis. 
+
+3 De Fin. iii. 20; Tusc. Disp. iii. 4. 
+
+4 The distinction between bona and commoda is thus given by Seneca (Ep. 87, ed fin.): 
+“Commodum est quod plus usus est quam molestiæ; bonum sincerum debet esse et ab omni parte 
+innoxium.” 
+
+5 Book xix. ch. 1. 
+
+6 See Diog. Lart. ii. 71. 
+
+7 Virgil, Æneid, iv. 449. 
+
+8 Seneca, De Clem. ii. 4 and 5. 
+
+9 Pro. Lig. c. 12. 
+
+10 De Oratore, i. 11, 47. 
+
+11 De Deo Soc. 
+
+12 De Deo Soc. 
+
+13 De Deo Soc. 
+
+14 Cat. Conj. i. 
+
+15 Plotinus died in 270 A.D. For his relation to Plato, see Augustine’s Contra Acad. iii. 41. 
+
+
+16 Ennead, iv. 3. 12. 
+
+
+17 Apuleius, not Plotinus. 
+
+
+18 De Deo Socratis. 
+
+19 Apuleius, ibid 
+
+20 Virgil, Georg. i. 5. 
+
+21 Augustine apparently quotes from memory from two passages of the Enneades, I. vi. 8, and ii. 
+3. 
+
+22 Or, humanity. 
+
+23 Comp. De Trin. 13. 22. 
+
+24 1 Tim. ii. 5. 
+
+25 8alpov == Sater, knowing; so Plato, Cratylus, 398. B. 
+26 1 Cor. viii. 1. 
+
+27 Mark i. 24 
+
+28 Matt. iv. 3-11. 
+
+29 Timæus. 
+
+30 Ps. 1. 1. 
+
+31 Ps. cxxxvi. 2. 
+
+32 Ps, xcv. 3. 
+
+33 Ps, xcvi. 5, 6. 
+
+34 Ps. Ixxxii. 6. 
+
+
+35 1 Cor. viii. 5, 6. 
+
+
+BOOK TENTH 
+
+
+ARGUMENT 
+
+
+IN THIS BOOK AUGUSTINE TEACHES THAT THE GOOD ANGELS WISH GOD ALONE, WHOM THEY THEMSELVES 
+SERVE, TO RECEIVE THAT DIVINE HONOUR WHICH IS RENDERED BY SACRIFICE, AND WHICH IS CALLED “LATREIA.” 
+HE THEN GOES ON TO DISPUTE AGAINST PORPHYRY ABOUT THE PRINCIPLE AND WAY OF THE SOUL’S CLEANSING 
+
+
+AND DELIVERANCE. 
+
+
+1. That the Platonists themselves have determined that God alone can confer happiness either on 
+angels or men, but that it yet remains a question whether those spirits whom they direct us to 
+worship, that we may obtain happiness, wish sacrifice to be offered to themselves, or to the one 
+God only. 
+
+
+t is the decided opinion of all who use their brains, that all men desire 
+
+to be happy. But who are happy, or how they become so, these are 
+questions, about which the weakness of human understanding stirs 
+endless and angry controversies, in which philosophers have wasted 
+their strength and expended their leisure. To adduce and discuss their 
+various opinions would be tedious, and is unnecessary. The reader may 
+remember what we said in the eighth book, while making a selection of 
+the philosophers with whom we might discuss the question regarding the 
+future life of happiness, whether we can reach it by paying divine 
+honours to the one true God, the Creator of all gods, or by worshipping 
+many gods, and he will not expect us to repeat here the same argument, 
+especially as, even if he has forgotten it, he may refresh his memory by 
+reperusal. For we made selection of the Platonists, justly esteemed the 
+noblest of the philosophers, because they had the wit to perceive that 
+the human soul, immortal and rational, or intellectual, as it is, cannot be 
+happy except by partaking of the light of that God by whom both itself 
+and the world were made; and also that the happy life which all men 
+desire cannot be reached by any who does not cleave with a pure and 
+holy love to that one supreme good, the unchangeable God. But as even 
+
+
+these philosophers, whether accommodating to the folly and ignorance 
+of the people, or, as the apostle says, “becoming vain in their 
+imaginations,”! supposed or allowed others to suppose that many gods 
+should be worshipped, so that some of them considered that divine 
+honour by worship and sacrifice should be rendered even to the demons 
+(an error I have already exploded), we must now, by God’s help, 
+ascertain what is thought about our religious worship and piety by those 
+immortal and blessed spirits, who dwell in the heavenly places among 
+dominations, principalities, powers, whom the Platonists call gods, and 
+some either good demons, or, like us, angels—that is to say, to put it 
+more plainly, whether the angels desire us to offer sacrifice and worship, 
+and to consecrate our possessions and ourselves, to them, or only to God, 
+theirs and ours. 
+
+For this is the worship which is due to the Divinity, or, to speak more 
+accurately, to the Deity; and, to express this worship in a single word, as 
+there does not occur to me any Latin term sufficiently exact, I shall avail 
+myself, whenever necessary, of a Greek word. Astpei«, whenever it occurs 
+in Scripture, is rendered by the word service. But that service which is 
+due to men, and in reference to which the apostle writes that servants 
+must be subject to their own masters,2 is usually designated by another 
+word in Greek,? whereas the service which is paid to God alone by 
+worship, is always, or almost always, called %p1sxeia in the usage of those 
+who wrote from the divine oracles. This cannot so well be called simply 
+“cultus,” for in that case it would not seem to be due exclusively to God; 
+for the same word is applied to the respect we pay either to the memory 
+or the living presence of men. From it, too, we derive the words 
+agriculture, colonist, and others.4 And the heathen call their gods 
+“coelicolae,” not because they worship heaven, but because they dwell 
+in it, and as it were colonize it—not in the sense in which we call those 
+colonists who are attached to their native soil to cultivate it under the 
+rule of the owners, but in the sense in which the great master of the 
+Latin language says, “There was an ancient city inhabited by Tyrian 
+colonists.”° He called them colonists, not because they cultivated the 
+soil, but because they inhabited the city. So, too, cities that have hived 
+off from larger cities are called colonies. Consequently, while it is quite 
+true that, using the word in a special sense, “cult” can be rendered to 
+none but God, yet, as the word is applied to other things besides, the cult 
+
+
+due to God cannot in Latin be expressed by this word alone. 
+
+The word “religion” might seem to express more definitely the 
+worship due to God alone, and therefore Latin translators have used this 
+word to represent %xxela; yet, as not only the uneducated, but also the 
+best instructed, use the word religion to express human ties, and 
+relationships, and affinities, it would inevitably produce ambiguity to 
+use this word in discussing the worship of God, unable as we are to say 
+that religion is nothing else than the worship of God, without 
+contradicting the common usage which applies this word to the 
+observance of social relationships. “Piety,” again, or, as the Greeks say, 
+ebcéBera, is commonly understood as the proper designation of the worship 
+of God. Yet this word also is used of dutifulness to parents. The common 
+people, too, use it of works of charity, which, I suppose, arises from the 
+circumstance that God enjoins the performance of such works, and 
+declares that He is pleased with them instead of, or in preference to 
+sacrifices. From this usage it has also come to pass that God Himself is 
+called pious,© in which sense the Greeks never use edsefetv, though edeépera 
+is applied to works of charity by their common people also. In some 
+passages of Scripture, therefore, they have sought to preserve the 
+distinction by using not &sé$ee, the more general word, but %ovéfera, 
+which literally denotes the worship of God. We, on the other hand, 
+cannot express either of these ideas by one word. This worship, then, 
+which in Greek is called à«tpsi«, and in Latin “servitus” [service], but the 
+service due to God only; this worship, which in Greek is called ®pnoxsia, 
+and in Latin “religio,” but the religion by which we are bound to God 
+only; this worship, which they call %02éfe:a, but which we cannot express 
+in one word, but call it the worship of God—this, we say, belongs only 
+to that God who is the true God, and who makes His worshippers gods.7 
+And therefore, whoever these immortal and blessed inhabitants of 
+heaven be, if they do not love us, and wish us to be blessed, then we 
+ought not to worship them; and if they do love us and desire our 
+happiness, they cannot wish us to be made happy by any other means 
+than they themselves have enjoyed—for how could they wish our 
+blessedness to flow from one source, theirs from another? 
+
+
+2. The opinion of Plotinus the Platonist regarding enlightenment from above 
+
+
+But with these more estimable philosophers we have no dispute in this 
+
+
+matter. For they perceived, and in various forms abundantly expressed 
+in their writings, that these spirits have the same source of happiness as 
+ourselves—a certain intelligible light, which is their God, and is different 
+from themselves, and illumines them that they may be penetrated with 
+light, and enjoy perfect happiness in the participation of God. Plotinus, 
+commenting on Plato, repeatedly and strongly asserts that not even the 
+soul which they believe to be the soul of the world, derives its 
+blessedness from any other source than we do, viz. from that Light 
+which is distinct from it and created it, and by whose intelligible 
+illumination it enjoys light in things intelligible. He also compares those 
+spritual things to the vast and conspicuous heavenly bodies, as if God 
+were the sun, and the soul the moon; for they suppose that the moon 
+derives its light from the sun. That great Platonist, therefore, says that 
+the rational soul, or rather the intellectual soul—in which class he 
+comprehends the souls of the blessed immortals who inhabit heaven— 
+has no nature superior to it save God, the Creator of the world and the 
+soul itself, and that these heavenly spirits derive their blessed life, and 
+the light of truth, from the same source as ourselves, agreeing with the 
+gospel where we read, “There was a man sent from God whose name 
+was John; the same came for a witness to bear witness of that Light, that 
+through Him all might believe. He was not that Light, but that he might 
+bear witness of the Light. That was the true Light which lighteth every 
+man that cometh into the world;”8—a distinction which sufficiently 
+proves that the rational or intellectual soul such as John had cannot be 
+its own light, but needs to receive illumination from another, the true 
+Light. This John himself avows when he delivers his witness: “We have 
+all received of His fulness.”9 
+
+
+3. That the Platonists, though knowing something of the Creator of the universe, have 
+misunderstood the true worship of God, by giving divine honour to angels, good or bad 
+
+
+This being so, if the Platonists, or those who think with them, knowing 
+God, glorified Him as God and gave thanks, if they did not become vain 
+in their own thoughts, if they did not originate or yield to the popular 
+errors, they would certainly acknowledge that neither could the blessed 
+immortals retain, nor we miserable mortals reach, a happy condition 
+without worshipping the one God of gods, who is both theirs and ours. 
+To Him we owe the service which is called in Greek 4«tp¢'@, whether we 
+
+
+render it outwardly or inwardly; for we are all His temple, each of us 
+severally and all of us together, because He condescends to inhabit each 
+individually and the whole harmonious body, being no greater in all 
+than in each, since He is neither expanded nor divided. Our heart when 
+it rises to Him is His altar; the priest who intercedes for us is His Only- 
+begotten; we sacrifice to Him bleeding victims when we contend for His 
+truth even unto blood; to Him we offer the sweetest incense when we 
+come before Him burning with holy and pious love; to Him we devote 
+and surrender ourselves and His gifts in us; to Him, by solemn feasts and 
+on appointed days, we consecrate the memory of His benefits, lest 
+through the lapse of time ungrateful oblivion should steal upon us; to 
+Him we offer on the altar of our heart the sacrifice of humility and 
+praise, kindled by the fire of burning love. It is that we may see Him, so 
+far as He can be seen; it is that we may cleave to Him, that we are 
+cleansed from all stain of sins and evil passions, and are consecrated in 
+His name. For He is the fountain of our happiness, He the end of all our 
+desires. Being attached to Him, or rather let me say, re-attached—for we 
+had detached ourselves and lost hold of Him!°—being, I say, re-attached 
+to Him, we tend towards Him by love, that we may rest in Him, and find 
+our blessedness by attaining that end. For our good, about which 
+philosophers have so keenly contended, is nothing else than to be united 
+to God. It is, if I may say so, by spiritually embracing Him that the 
+intellectual soul is filled and impregnated with true virtues. We are 
+enjoined to love this good with all our heart, with all our soul, with all 
+our strength. To this good we ought to be led by those who love us, and 
+to lead those we love. Thus are fulfilled those two commandments on 
+which hang all the law and the prophets: “Thou shalt love the Lord thy 
+God with all thy heart, and with all thy mind, and with all thy soul;” and 
+“Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.”!1 For, that man might be 
+intelligent in his self-love, there was appointed for him an end to which 
+he might refer all his actions, that he might be blessed. For he who loves 
+himself wishes nothing else than this. And the end set before him is “to 
+draw near to God.”!2 And so, when one who has this intelligent self-love 
+is commanded to love his neighbour as himself, what else is enjoined 
+than that he shall do all in his power to commend to him the love of 
+God? This is the worship of God, this is true religion, this right piety, 
+this the service due to God only. If any immortal power, then, no matter 
+
+
+with what virtue endowed, loves us as himself, he must desire that we 
+find our happiness by submitting ourselves to Him, in submission to 
+whom he himself finds happiness. If he does not worship God, he is 
+wretched, because deprived of God; if he worships God, he cannot wish 
+to be worshipped in God’s stead. On the contrary, these higher powers 
+acquiesce heartily in the divine sentence in which it is written, “He that 
+sacrificeth unto any god, save unto the Lord only, he shall be utterly 
+destroyed.”13 
+
+
+4. That sacrifice is due to the true God only 
+
+
+But, putting aside for the present the other religious services with 
+which God is worshipped, certainly no man would dare to say that 
+sacrifice is due to any but God. Many parts, indeed, of divine worship 
+are unduly used in showing honour to men, whether through an 
+excessive humility or pernicious flattery; yet, while this is done, those 
+persons who are thus worshipped and venerated, or even adored, are 
+reckoned no more than human; and who ever thought of sacrificing save 
+to one whom he knew, supposed, or feigned to be a god? And how 
+ancient a part of God’s worship sacrifice is, those two brothers, Cain and 
+Abel, sufficiently show, of whom God rejected the elder’s sacrifice, and 
+looked favourably on the younger’s. 
+
+
+5. Of the sacrifices which God does not require, but wished to be observed for the exhibition of 
+
+
+those things which He does require 
+
+
+And who is so foolish as to suppose that the things offered to God are 
+needed by Him for some uses of His own? Divine Scripture in many 
+places explodes this idea. Not to be wearisome, suffice it to quote this 
+brief saying from a psalm: “I have said to the Lord, Thou art my God: for 
+Thou needest not my goodness.”!4 We must believe, then, that God has 
+no need, not only of cattle, or any other earthly and material thing, but 
+even of man’s righteousness, and that whatever right worship is paid to 
+God profits not Him, but man. For no man would say he did a benefit to 
+a fountain by drinking, or to the light by seeing. And the fact that the 
+ancient church offered animal sacrifices, which the people of God now-a- 
+days reads of without imitating, proves nothing else than this, that those 
+sacrifices signified the things which we do for the purpose of drawing 
+near to God, and inducing our neighbour to do the same. A sacrifice, 
+
+
+therefore, is the visible sacrament or sacred sign of an invisible sacrifice. 
+Hence that penitent in the psalm, or it may be the Psalmist himself, 
+entreating God to be merciful to his sins, says, “If Thou desiredst 
+sacrifice, I would give it: Thou delightest not in whole burnt-offerings. 
+The sacrifice of God is a broken heart: a heart contrite and humble God 
+will not despise.”!5 Observe how, in the very words in which he is 
+expressing God’s refusal of sacrifice, he shows that God requires 
+sacrifice. He does not desire the sacrifice of a slaughtered beast, but He 
+desires the sacrifice of a contrite heart. Thus, that sacrifice which he says 
+God does not wish, is the symbol of the sacrifice which God does wish. 
+God does not wish sacrifices in the sense in which foolish people think 
+He wishes them, viz. to gratify His own pleasure. For if He had not 
+wished that the sacrifices He requires, as, e.g., a heart contrite and 
+humbled by penitent sorrow, should be symbolized by those sacrifices 
+which He was thought to desire because pleasant to Himself, the old law 
+would never have enjoined their presentation; and they were destined to 
+be merged when the fit opportunity arrived, in order that men might not 
+suppose that the sacrifices themselves, rather than the things symbolized 
+by them, were pleasing to God or acceptable in us. Hence, in another 
+passage from another psalm, he says, “If I were hungry, I would not tell 
+thee; for the world is mine and the fulness thereof. Will I eat the flesh of 
+bulls, or drink the blood of goats?”!6 as if He should say, Supposing such 
+things were necessary to me, I would never ask thee for what I have in 
+my own hand. Then he goes on to mention what these signify: “Offer 
+unto God the sacrifice of praise, and pay thy vows unto the Most High. 
+And call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee, and thou 
+shalt glorify me.”!7 So in another prophet: “Wherewith shall I come 
+before the Lord, and bow myself before the High God? Shall I come 
+before Him with burnt-offerings, with calves of a year old? Will the Lord 
+be pleased with thousands of rams, or with ten thousands of rivers of 
+oil? Shall I give my first-born for my transgression, the fruit of my body 
+for the sin of my soul? Hath He showed thee, O man, what is good; and 
+what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, 
+and to walk humbly with thy God?”!8 In the words of this prophet, these 
+two things are distinguished and set forth with sufficient explicitness, 
+that God does not require these sacrifices for their own sakes, and that 
+He does require the sacrifices which they symbolize. In the epistle 
+
+
+entitled “To the Hebrews” it is said, “To do good and to communicate, 
+forget not: for with such sacrifices God is well pleased.”!9 And so, when 
+it is written, “I desire mercy rather than sacrifice,”2° nothing else is 
+meant than that one sacrifice is preferred to another; for that which in 
+common speech is called sacrifice is only the symbol of the true sacrifice. 
+Now mercy is the true sacrifice, and therefore it is said, as I have just 
+quoted, “with such sacrifices God is well pleased.” All the divine 
+ordinances, therefore, which we read concerning the sacrifices in the 
+service of the tabernacle or the temple, we are to refer to the love of God 
+and our neighbour. For “on these two commandments,” as it is written, 
+“hang all the law and the prophets.”21 
+
+
+6. Of the true and perfect sacrifice 
+
+
+Thus a true sacrifice is every work which is done that we may be 
+united to God in holy fellowship, and which has a reference to that 
+supreme good and end in which alone we can be truly blessed.22 And 
+therefore even the mercy we show to men, if it is not shown for God’s 
+sake, is not a sacrifice. For, though made or offered by man, sacrifice is a 
+divine thing, as those who called it sacrifice23 meant to indicate. Thus 
+man himself, consecrated in the name of God, and vowed to God, is a 
+sacrifice in so far as he dies to the world that he may live to God. For 
+this is a part of that mercy which each man shows to himself; as it is 
+written, “Have mercy on thy soul by pleasing God.”24 Our body, too, is a 
+sacrifice when we chasten it by temperance, if we do so as we ought, for 
+God’s sake, that we may not yield our members instruments of 
+unrighteousness unto sin, but instruments of righteousness unto God.25 
+Exhorting to this sacrifice, the apostle says, “I beseech you, therefore, 
+brethren, by the mercy of God, that ye present your bodies a living 
+sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service.”26 If, 
+then, the body, which, being inferior, the soul uses as a servant or 
+instrument, is a sacrifice when it is used rightly, and with reference to 
+God, how much more does the soul itself become a sacrifice when it 
+offers itself to God, in order that, being inflamed by the fire of His love, 
+it may receive of His beauty and become pleasing to Him, losing the 
+shape of earthly desire, and being remoulded in the image of permanent 
+loveliness? And this, indeed, the apostle subjoins, saying, “And be not 
+conformed to this world; but be ye transformed in the renewing of your 
+
+
+mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect 
+will of God.”27 Since, therefore, true sacrifices are works of mercy to 
+ourselves or others, done with a reference to God, and since works of 
+mercy have no other object than the relief of distress or the conferring of 
+happiness, and since there is no happiness apart from that good of which 
+it is said, “It is good for me to be very near to God,”28 it follows that the 
+whole redeemed city, that is to say, the congregation or community of 
+the saints, is offered to God as our sacrifice through the great High 
+Priest, who offered Himself to God in His passion for us, that we might 
+be members of this glorious head, according to the form of a servant. For 
+it was this form He offered, in this He was offered, because it is 
+according to it He is Mediator, in this He is our Priest, in this the 
+Sacrifice. Accordingly, when the apostle had exhorted us to present our 
+bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, our reasonable service, 
+and not to be conformed to the world, but to be transformed in the 
+renewing of our mind, that we might prove what is that good, and 
+acceptable, and perfect will of God, that is to say, the true sacrifice of 
+ourselves, he says, “For I say, through the grace of God which is given 
+unto me, to every man that is among you, not to think of himself more 
+highly than he ought to think, but to think soberly, according as God 
+hath dealt to every man the measure of faith. For, as we have many 
+members in one body, and all members have not the same office, so we, 
+being many, are one body in Christ, and every one members one of 
+another, having gifts differing according to the grace that is given to 
+us.”29 This is the sacrifice of Christians: we, being many, are one body in 
+Christ. And this also is the sacrifice which the Church continually 
+celebrates in the sacrament of the altar, known to the faithful, in which 
+she teaches that she herself is offered in the offering she makes to God. 
+
+
+7. Of the love of the holy angels, which prompts them to desire that we worship the one true 
+God, and not themselves 
+
+
+It is very right that these blessed and immortal spirits, who inhabit 
+celestial dwellings, and rejoice in the communications of their Creator’s 
+fulness, firm in His eternity, assured in His truth, holy by His grace, 
+since they compassionately and tenderly regard us miserable mortals, 
+and wish us to become immortal and happy, do not desire us to sacrifice 
+to themselves, but to Him whose sacrifice they know themselves to be in 
+
+
+common with us. For we and they together are the one city of God, to 
+which it is said in the psalm, “Glorious things are spoken of thee, O city 
+of God;”3° the human part sojourning here below, the angelic aiding 
+from above. For from that heavenly city, in which God’s will is the 
+intelligible and unchangeable law, from that heavenly council-chamber 
+—for they sit in counsel regarding us—that holy Scripture, descended to 
+us by the ministry of angels, in which it is written, “He that sacrificeth 
+unto any god, save unto the Lord only, he shall be utterly destroyed”3!— 
+this Scripture, this law, these precepts, have been confirmed by such 
+miracles, that it is sufficiently evident to whom these immortal and 
+blessed spirits, who desire us to be like themselves, wish us to sacrifice. 
+
+
+8. Of the miracles which God has condescended to adhibit, through the ministry of angels, to His 
+promises for the confirmation of the faith of the godly 
+
+
+I should seem tedious were I to recount all the ancient miracles, which 
+were wrought in attestation of God’s promises which He made to 
+Abraham thousands of years ago, that in his seed all the nations of the 
+earth should be blessed.32 For who can but marvel that Abraham’s 
+barren wife should have given birth to a son at an age when not even a 
+prolific woman could bear children; or, again, that when Abraham 
+sacrificed, a flame from heaven should have run between the divided 
+parts;33 or that the angels in human form, whom he had hospitably 
+entertained, and who had renewed God’s promise of offspring, should 
+also have predicted the destruction of Sodom by fire from heaven;34 and 
+that his nephew Lot should have been rescued from Sodom by the angels 
+as the fire was just descending, while his wife, who looked back as she 
+went, and was immediately turned into salt, stood as a sacred beacon 
+warning us that no one who is being saved should long for what he is 
+leaving? How striking also were the wonders done by Moses to rescue 
+God’s people from the yoke of slavery in Egypt, when the magi of the 
+Pharaoh, that is, the king of Egypt, who tyrannized over this people, 
+were suffered to do some wonderful things that they might be 
+vanquished all the more signally! They did these things by the magical 
+arts and incantations to which the evil spirits or demons are addicted; 
+while Moses, having as much greater power as he had right on his side, 
+and having the aid of angels, easily conquered them in the name of the 
+Lord who made heaven and earth. And, in fact, the magicians failed at 
+
+
+the third plague; whereas Moses, dealing out the miracles delegated to 
+him, brought ten plagues upon the land, so that the hard hearts of 
+Pharaoh and the Egyptians yielded, and the people were let go. But, 
+quickly repenting, and essaying to overtake the departing Hebrews, who 
+had crossed the sea on dry ground, they were covered and overwhelmed 
+in the returning waters. What shall I say of those frequent and 
+stupendous exhibitions of divine power, while the people were 
+conducted through the wilderness?—of the waters which could not be 
+drunk, but lost their bitterness, and quenched the thirsty, when at God’s 
+command a piece of wood was cast into them? of the manna that 
+descended from heaven to appease their hunger, and which begat worms 
+and putrefied when any one collected more than the appointed quantity, 
+and yet, though double was gathered on the day before the Sabbath (it 
+not being lawful to gather it on that day), remained fresh? of the birds 
+which filled the camp, and turned appetite into satiety when they longed 
+for flesh, which it seemed impossible to supply to so vast a population? 
+of the enemies who met them, and opposed their passage with arms, and 
+were defeated without the loss of a single Hebrew, when Moses prayed 
+with his hands extended in the form of a cross? of the seditious persons 
+who arose among God’s people, and separated themselves from the 
+divinely-ordered community, and were swallowed up alive by the earth, 
+a visible token of an invisible punishment? of the rock struck with the 
+rod, and pouring out waters more than enough for all the host? of the 
+deadly serpents’ bites, sent in just punishment of sin, but healed by 
+looking at the lifted brazen serpent, so that not only were the tormented 
+people healed, but a symbol of the crucifixion of death set before them 
+in this destruction of death by death? It was this serpent which was 
+preserved in memory of this event, and was afterwards worshipped by 
+the mistaken people as an idol, and was destroyed by the pious and God- 
+fearing king Hezekiah, much to his credit. 
+
+
+9. Of the illicit arts connected with demonolatry, and of which the Platonist Porphyry adopts 
+some, and discards others 
+
+
+These miracles, and many others of the same nature, which it were 
+tedious to mention, were wrought for the purpose of commending the 
+worship of the one true God, and prohibiting the worship of a multitude 
+of false gods. Moreover, they were wrought by simple faith and godly 
+
+
+confidence, not by the incantations and charms composed under the 
+influence of a criminal tampering with the unseen world, of an art which 
+they call either magic, or by the more abominable title necromancy,?° or 
+the more honourable designation theurgy; for they wish to discriminate 
+between those whom the people call magicians, who practise 
+necromancy, and are addicted to illicit arts and condemned, and those 
+others who seem to them to be worthy of praise for their practice of 
+theurgy—the truth, however, being that both classes are the slaves of the 
+deceitful rites of the demons whom they invoke under the names of 
+angels. 
+
+For even Porphyry promises some kind of purgation of the soul by the 
+help of theurgy, though he does so with some hesitation and shame, and 
+denies that this art can secure to any one a return to God; so that you 
+can detect his opinion vacillating between the profession of philosophy 
+and an art which he feels to be presumptuous and sacrilegious. For at 
+one time he warns us to avoid it as deceitful, and prohibited by law, and 
+dangerous to those who practise it; then again, as if in deference to its 
+advocates, he declares it useful for cleansing one part of the soul, not, 
+indeed, the intellectual part, by which the truth of things intelligible, 
+which have no sensible images, is recognised, but the spiritual part, 
+which takes cognizance of the images of things material. This part, he 
+says, is prepared and fitted for intercourse with spirits and angels, and 
+for the vision of the gods, by the help of certain theurgic consecrations, 
+or, as they call them, mysteries. He acknowledges, however, that these 
+theurgic mysteries impart to the intellectual soul no such purity as fits it 
+to see its God, and recognise the things that truly exist. And from this 
+acknowledgment we may infer what kind of gods these are, and what 
+kind of vision of them is imparted by theurgic consecrations, if by it one 
+cannot see the things which truly exist. He says, further, that the 
+rational, or, as he prefers calling it, the intellectual soul, can pass into 
+the heavens without the spiritual part being cleansed by theurgic art, 
+and that this art cannot so purify the spiritual part as to give it entrance 
+to immortality and eternity. And therefore, although he distinguishes 
+angels from demons, asserting that the habitation of the latter is in the 
+air, while the former dwell in the ether and empyrean, and although he 
+advises us to cultivate the friendship of some demon, who may be able 
+after our death to assist us, and elevate us at least a little above the earth 
+
+
+—for he owns that it is by another way we must reach the heavenly 
+society of the angels—he at the same time distinctly warns us to avoid 
+the society of demons, saying that the soul, expiating its sin after death, 
+execrates the worship of demons by whom it was entangled. And of 
+theurgy itself, though he recommends it as reconciling angels and 
+demons, he cannot deny that it treats with powers which either 
+themselves envy the soul its purity, or serve the arts of those who do 
+envy it. He complains of this through the mouth of some Chaldzan or 
+other: “A good man in Chaldza complains,” he says, “that his most 
+strenuous efforts to cleanse his soul were frustrated, because another 
+man, who had influence in these matters, and who envied him purity, 
+had prayed to the powers, and bound them by his conjuring not to listen 
+to his request. Therefore,” adds Porphyry, “what the one man bound, the 
+other could not loose.” And from this he concludes that theurgy is a craft 
+which accomplishes not only good but evil among gods and men; and 
+that the gods also have passions, and are perturbed and agitated by the 
+emotions which Apuleius attributed to demons and men, but from which 
+he preserved the gods by that sublimity of residence, which, in common 
+with Plato, he accorded to them. 
+
+
+10. Concerning iheurgy, which promises a delusive purification of the soul by the invocation of 
+
+
+demons 
+
+
+But here we have another and a much more learned Platonist than 
+Apuleius, Porphyry, to wit, asserting that, by I know not what theurgy, 
+even the gods themselves are subjected to passions and perturbations; 
+for by adjurations they were so bound and terrified that they could not 
+confer purity of soul—were so terrified by him who imposed on them a 
+wicked command, that they could not by the same theurgy be freed from 
+that terror, and fulfil the righteous behest of him who prayed to them, or 
+do the good he sought. Who does not see that all these things are fictions 
+of deceiving demons, unless he be a wretched slave of theirs, and an 
+alien from the grace of the true Liberator? For if the Chaldazan had been 
+dealing with good gods, certainly a well-disposed man, who sought to 
+purify his own soul, would have had more influence with them than an 
+evil-disposed man seeking to hinder him. Or, if the gods were just, and 
+considered the man unworthy of the purification he sought, at all events 
+they should not have been terrified by an envious person, nor hindered, 
+
+
+as Porphyry avows, by the fear of a stronger deity, but should have 
+simply denied the boon on their own free judgment. And it is surprising 
+that that well-disposed Chaldzan, who desired to purify his soul by 
+theurgical rites, found no superior deity who could either terrify the 
+frightened gods still more, and force them to confer the boon, or 
+compose their fears, and so enable them to do good without compulsion 
+—even supposing that the good theurgist had no rites by which he 
+himself might purge away the taint of fear from the gods whom he 
+invoked for the purification of his own soul. And why is it that there is a 
+god who has power to territy the inferior gods, and none who has power 
+to free them from fear? Is there found a god who listens to the envious 
+man, and frightens the gods from doing good? and is there not found a 
+god who listens to the well-disposed man, and removes the fear of the 
+gods that they may do him good? O excellent theurgy! O admirable 
+purification of the soul!—a theurgy in which the violence of an impure 
+envy has more influence than the entreaty of purity and holiness. Rather 
+let us abominate and avoid the deceit of such wicked spirits, and listen 
+to sound doctrine. As to those who perform these filthy cleansings by 
+sacrilegious rites, and see in their initiated state (as he further tells us, 
+though we may question this vision) certain wonderfully lovely 
+appearances of angels or gods, this is what the apostle refers to when he 
+speaks of “Satan transforming himself into an angel of light.”36 For these 
+are the delusive appearances of that spirit who longs to entangle 
+wretched souls in the deceptive worship of many and false gods, and to 
+turn them aside from the true worship of the true God, by whom alone 
+they are cleansed and healed, and who, as was said of Proteus, “turns 
+himself into all shapes,”37 equally hurtful, whether he assaults us as an 
+enemy, or assumes the disguise of a friend. 
+
+
+11. Of Porphyry’s epistle to Anebo, in which he asks for information about the differences 
+
+
+among demons 
+
+
+It was a better tone which Porphyry adopted in his letter to Anebo the 
+Egyptian, in which, assuming the character of an inquirer consulting 
+him, he unmasks and explodes these sacrilegious arts. In that letter, 
+indeed, he repudiates all demons, whom he maintains to be so foolish as 
+to be attracted by the sacrificial vapours, and therefore residing not in 
+the ether, but in the air beneath the moon, and indeed in the moon 
+
+
+itself. Yet he has not the boldness to attribute to all the demons all the 
+deceptions and malicious and foolish practices which justly move his 
+indignation. For, though he acknowledges that as a race demons are 
+foolish, he so far accommodates himself to popular ideas as to call some 
+of them benignant demons. He expresses surprise that sacrifices not only 
+incline the gods, but also compel and force them to do what men wish; 
+and he is at a loss to understand how the sun and moon, and other 
+visible celestial bodies—for bodies he does not doubt that they are—are 
+considered gods, if the gods are distinguished from the demons by their 
+incorporeality; also, if they are gods, how some are called beneficent and 
+others hurtful, and how they, being corporeal, are numbered with the 
+gods, who are incorporeal. He inquires further, and still as one in doubt, 
+whether diviners and wonderworkers are men of unusually powerful 
+souls, or whether the power to do these things is communicated by 
+spirits from without. He inclines to the latter opinion, on the ground that 
+it is by the use of stones and herbs that they lay spells on people, and 
+open closed doors, and do similar wonders. And on this account, he says, 
+some suppose that there is a race of beings whose property it is to listen 
+to men—a race deceitful, full of contrivances, capable of assuming all 
+forms, simulating gods, demons, and dead men—and that it is this race 
+which brings about all these things which have the appearance of good 
+or evil, but that what is really good they never help us in, and are indeed 
+unacquainted with, for they make wickedness easy, but throw obstacles 
+in the path of those who eagerly follow virtue; and that they are filled 
+with pride and rashness, delight in sacrificial odours, are taken with 
+flattery. These and the other characteristics of this race of deceitful and 
+malicious spirits, who come into the souls of men and delude their 
+senses, both in sleep and waking, he describes not as things of which he 
+is himself convinced, but only with so much suspicion and doubt as to 
+cause him to speak of them as commonly received opinions. We should 
+sympathize with this great philosopher in the difficulty he experienced 
+in acquainting himself with and confidently assailing the whole 
+fraternity of devils, which any Christian old woman would 
+unhesitatingly describe and most unreservedly detest. Perhaps, however, 
+he shrank from offending Anebo, to whom he was writing, himself the 
+most eminent patron of these mysteries, or the others who marvelled at 
+these magical feats as divine works, and closely allied to the worship of 
+
+
+the gods. 
+
+However, he pursues this subject, and, still in the character of an 
+inquirer, mentions some things which no sober judgment could attribute 
+to any but malicious and deceitful powers. He asks why, after the better 
+class of spirits have been invoked, the worse should be commanded to 
+perform the wicked desires of men; why they do not hear a man who has 
+just left a woman’s embrace, while they themselves make no scruple of 
+tempting men to incest and adultery; why their priests are commanded 
+to abstain from animal food for fear of being polluted by the corporeal 
+exhalations, while they themselves are attracted by the fumes of 
+sacrifices and other exhalations; why the initiated are forbidden to touch 
+a dead body, while their mysteries are celebrated almost entirely by 
+means of dead bodies; why it is that a man addicted to any vice should 
+utter threats, not to a demon or to the soul of a dead man, but to the sun 
+and moon, or some of the heavenly bodies, which he intimidates by 
+imaginary terrors, that he may wring from them a real boon—for he 
+threatens that he will demolish the sky, and such like impossibilities— 
+that those gods, being alarmed, like silly children, with imaginary and 
+absurd threats, may do what they are ordered. Porphyry further relates 
+that a man Cheremon, profoundly versed in these sacred or rather 
+sacrilegious mysteries, had written that the famous Egyptian mysteries of 
+Isis and her husband Osiris had very great influence with the gods to 
+compel them to do what they were ordered, when he who used the spells 
+threatened to divulge or do away with these mysteries, and cried with a 
+threatening voice that he would scatter the members of Osiris if they 
+neglected his orders. Not without reason is Porphyry surprised that a 
+man should utter such wild and empty threats against the gods—not 
+against gods of no account, but against the heavenly gods, and those that 
+shine with sidereal light—and that these threats should be effectual to 
+constrain them with resistless power, and alarm them so that they fulfil 
+his wishes. Not without reason does he, in the character of an inquirer 
+into the reasons of these surprising things, give it to be understood that 
+they are done by that race of spirits which he previously described as if 
+quoting other people’s opinions—spirits who deceive not, as he said, by 
+nature, but by their own corruption, and who simulate gods and dead 
+men, but not, as he said, demons, for demons they really are. As to his 
+idea that by means of herbs, and stones, and animals, and certain 
+
+
+incantations and noises, and drawings, sometimes fanciful, and 
+sometimes copied from the motions of the heavenly bodies, men create 
+upon earth powers capable of bringing about various results, all that is 
+only the mystification which these demons practise on those who are 
+subject to them, for the sake of furnishing themselves with merriment at 
+the expense of their dupes. Either, then, Porphyry was sincere in his 
+doubts and inquiries, and mentioned these things to demonstrate and 
+put beyond question that they were the work, not of powers which aid 
+us in obtaining life, but of deceitful demons; or, to take a more 
+favourable view of the philosopher, he adopted this method with the 
+Egyptian who was wedded to these errors, and was proud of them, that 
+he might not offend him by assuming the attitude of a teacher, nor 
+discompose his mind by the altercation of a professed assailant, but, by 
+assuming the character of an inquirer, and the humble attitude of one 
+who was anxious to learn, might turn his attention to these matters, and 
+show how worthy they are to be despised and relinquished. Towards the 
+conclusion of his letter, he requests Anebo to inform him what the 
+Egyptian wisdom indicates as the way to blessedness. But as to those 
+who hold intercourse with the gods, and pester them only for the sake of 
+finding a runaway slave, or acquiring property, or making a bargain of a 
+marriage, or such things, he declares that their pretensions to wisdom 
+are vain. He adds that these same gods, even granting that on other 
+points their utterances were true, were yet so ill-advised and 
+unsatisfactory in their disclosures about blessedness, that they cannot be 
+either gods or good demons, but are either that spirit who is called the 
+deceiver, or mere fictions of the imagination. 
+
+
+12. Of the miracles wrought by the true God through the ministry of the holy angels 
+
+
+Since by means of these arts wonders are done which quite surpass 
+human power, what choice have we but to believe that these predictions 
+and operations, which seem to be miraculous and divine, and which at 
+the same time form no part of the worship of the one God, in adherence 
+to whom, as the Platonists themselves abundantly testify, all blessedness 
+consists, are the pastime of wicked spirits, who thus seek to seduce and 
+hinder the truly godly? On the other hand, we cannot but believe that all 
+miracles, whether wrought by angels or by other means, so long as they 
+are so done as to commend the worship and religion of the one God in 
+
+
+whom alone is blessedness, are wrought by those who love us in a true 
+and godly sort, or through their means, God Himself working in them. 
+For we cannot listen to those who maintain that the invisible God works 
+no visible miracles; for even they believe that He made the world, which 
+surely they will not deny to be visible. Whatever marvel happens in this 
+world, it is certainly less marvellous than this whole world itself—I 
+mean the sky and earth, and all that is in them—and these God certainly 
+made. But, as the Creator Himself is hidden and incomprehensible to 
+man, so also is the manner of creation. Although, therefore, the standing 
+miracle of this visible world is little thought of, because always before 
+us, yet, when we arouse ourselves to contemplate it, it is a greater 
+miracle than the rarest and most unheard-of marvels. For man himself is 
+a greater miracle than any miracle done through his instrumentality. 
+Therefore God, who made the visible heaven and earth, does not disdain 
+to work visible miracles in heaven or earth, that He may thereby awaken 
+the soul which is immersed in things visible to worship Himself, the 
+Invisible. But the place and time of these miracles are dependent on His 
+unchangeable will, in which things future are ordered as if already they 
+were accomplished. For He moves things temporal without Himself 
+moving in time. He does not in one way know things that are to be, and, 
+in another, things that have been; neither does He listen to those who 
+pray otherwise than as He sees those that will pray. For, even when His 
+angels hear us, it is He Himself who hears us in them, as in His true 
+temple not made with hands, as in those men who are His saints; and 
+His answers, though accomplished in time, have been arranged by His 
+eternal appointment. 
+
+
+13. Of the invisible God, who has often made Himself visible, not as He really is, but as the 
+beholders could bear the sight 
+
+
+Neither need we be surprised that God, invisible as He is, should often 
+have appeared visibly to the patriarchs. For as the sound which 
+communicates the thought conceived in the silence of the mind is not 
+the thought itself, so the form by which God, invisible in His own 
+nature, became visible, was not God Himself. Nevertheless it is He 
+Himself who was seen under that form, as that thought itself is heard in 
+the sound of the voice; and the patriarchs recognised that, though the 
+bodily form was not God, they saw the invisible God. For, though Moses 
+
+
+conversed with God, yet he said, “If I have found grace in Thy sight, 
+show me Thyself, that I may see and know Thee.”38 And as it was fit that 
+the law, which was given, not to one man or a few enlightened men, but 
+to the whole of a populous nation, should be accompanied by 
+aweinspiring signs, great marvels were wrought, by the ministry of 
+angels, before the people on the mount where the law was being given 
+to them through one man, while the multitude beheld the awful 
+appearances. For the people of Israel believed Moses, not as the 
+Lacedemonians believed their Lycurgus, because he had received from 
+Jupiter or Apollo the laws he gave them. For when the law which 
+enjoined the worship of one God was given to the people, marvellous 
+signs and earthquakes, such as the divine wisdom judged sufficient, were 
+brought about in the sight of all, that they might know that it was the 
+Creator who could thus use creation to promulgate His law. 
+
+
+14. That the one God is to be worshipped not only for the sake of eternal blessings, but also in 
+
+
+connection with temporal prosperity, because all things are regulated by His providence 
+
+
+The education of the human race, represented by the people of God, 
+has advanced, like that of an individual, through certain epochs, or, as it 
+were, ages, so that it might gradually rise from earthly to heavenly 
+things, and from the visible to the invisible. This object was kept so 
+clearly in view, that, even in the period when temporal rewards were 
+promised, the one God was presented as the object of worship, that men 
+might not acknowledge any other than the true Creator and Lord of the 
+spirit, even in connection with the earthly blessings of this transitory 
+life. For he who denies that all things, which either angels or men can 
+give us, are in the hand of the one Almighty, is a madman. The Platonist 
+Plotinus discourses concerning providence, and, from the beauty of 
+flowers and foliage, proves that from the supreme God, whose beauty is 
+unseen and ineffable, providence reaches down even to these earthly 
+things here below; and he argues that all these frail and perishing things 
+could not have so exquisite and elaborate a beauty, were they not 
+fashioned by Him whose unseen and unchangeable beauty continually 
+pervades all things.39 This is proved also by the Lord Jesus, where He 
+says, “Consider the lilies, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they 
+spin. And yet I say unto you that Solomon in all his glory was not 
+arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothe the grass of the field, 
+
+
+which to-day is and to-morrow is cast into the oven, how much more 
+shall He clothe you, O ye of little faith!”4° It was best, therefore, that the 
+soul of man, which was still weakly desiring earthly things, should be 
+accustomed to seek from God alone even these petty temporal boons, 
+and the earthly necessaries of this transitory life, which are contemptible 
+in comparison with eternal blessings, in order that the desire even of 
+these things might not draw it aside from the worship of Him, to whom 
+we come by despising and forsaking such things. 
+
+
+15. Of the ministry of the holy angels, by which they fulfil the providence of God 
+
+
+And so it has pleased Divine Providence, as I have said, and as we 
+read in the Acts of the Apostles,*! that the law enjoining the worship of 
+one God should be given by the disposition of angels. But among them 
+the person of God Himself visibly appeared, not, indeed, in His proper 
+substance, which ever remains invisible to mortal eyes, but by the 
+infallible signs furnished by creation in obedience to its Creator. He 
+made use, too, of the words of human speech, uttering them syllable by 
+syllable successively, though in His own nature He speaks not in a bodily 
+but in a spiritual way; not to sense, but to the mind; not in words that 
+occupy time, but, if I may so say, eternally, neither beginning to speak 
+nor coming to an end. And what He says is accurately heard, not by the 
+bodily but by the mental ear of His ministers and messengers, who are 
+immortally blessed in the enjoyment of His unchangeable truth; and the 
+directions which they in some ineffable way receive, they execute 
+without delay or difficulty in the sensible and visible world. And this law 
+was given in conformity with the age of the world, and contained at the 
+first earthly promises, as I have said, which, however, symbolized 
+eternal ones; and these eternal blessings few understood, though many 
+took a part in the celebration of their visible signs. Nevertheless, with 
+one consent both the words and the visible rites of that law enjoin the 
+worship of one God—not one of a crowd of gods, but Him who made 
+heaven and earth, and every soul and every spirit which is other than 
+Himself. He created; all else was created; and, both for being and well- 
+being, all things need Him who created them. 
+
+
+16. Whether those angels who demand that we pay them divine honour, or those who teach us to 
+
+
+render holy service, not to themselves, but to God, are to be trusted about the way to life eternal 
+
+
+What angels, then, are we to believe in this matter of blessed and 
+eternal life?—those who wish to be worshipped with religious rites and 
+observances, and require that men sacrifice to them; or those who say 
+that all this worship is due to one God, the Creator, and teach us to 
+render it with true piety to Him, by the vision of whom they are 
+themselves already blessed, and in whom they promise that we shall be 
+so? For that vision of God is the beauty of a vision so great, and is so 
+infinitely desirable, that Plotinus does not hesitate to say that he who 
+enjoys all other blessings in abundance, and has not this, is supremely 
+miserable.42 Since, therefore, miracles are wrought by some angels to 
+induce us to worship this God, by others, to induce us to worship 
+themselves; and since the former forbid us to worship these, while the 
+latter dare not forbid us to worship God, which are we to listen to? Let 
+the Platonists reply, or any philosophers, or the theurgists, or rather, 
+periurgists+7—for this name is good enough for those who practise such 
+arts. In short, let all men answer—if, at least, there survives in them any 
+spark of that natural perception which, as rational beings, they possess 
+when created—let them, I say, tell us whether we should sacrifice to the 
+gods or angels who order us to sacrifice to them, or to that One to whom 
+we are ordered to sacrifice by those who forbid us to worship either 
+themselves or these others. If neither the one party nor the other had 
+wrought miracles, but had merely uttered commands, the one to 
+sacrifice to themselves, the other forbidding that, and ordering us to 
+sacrifice to God, a godly mind would have been at no loss to discern 
+which command proceeded from proud arrogance, and which from true 
+religion. I will say more. If miracles had been wrought only by those 
+who demand sacrifice for themselves, while those who forbade this, and 
+enjoined sacrificing to the one God only, thought fit entirely to forego 
+the use of visible miracles, the authority of the latter was to be preferred 
+by all who would use, not their eyes only, but their reason. But since 
+God, for the sake of commending to us the oracles of His truth, has, by 
+means of these immortal messengers, who proclaim His majesty and not 
+their own pride, wrought miracles of surpassing grandeur, certainty, and 
+distinctness, in order that the weak among the godly might not be drawn 
+away to false religion by those who require us to sacrifice to them and 
+endeavour to convince us by stupendous appeals to our senses, who is so 
+utterly unreasonable as not to choose and follow the truth, when he 
+
+
+finds that it is heralded by even more striking evidences than falsehood? 
+
+As for those miracles which history ascribes to the gods of the heathen 
+—I do not refer to those prodigies which at intervals happen from some 
+unknown physical causes, and which are arranged and appointed by 
+Divine Providence, such as monstrous births, and unusual meteorological 
+phenomena, whether startling only, or also injurious, and which are said 
+to be brought about and removed by communication with demons, and 
+by their most deceitful craft—but I refer to these prodigies which 
+manifestly enough are wrought by their power and force, as, that the 
+household gods which Æneas carried from Troy in his flight moved from 
+place to place; that Tarquin cut a whetstone with a razor; that the 
+Epidaurian serpent attached himself as a companion to Æsculapius on 
+his voyage to Rome; that the ship in which the image of the Phrygian 
+mother stood, and which could not be moved by a host of men and oxen, 
+was moved by one weak woman, who attached her girdle to the vessel 
+and drew it, as proof of her chastity; that a vestal, whose virginity was 
+questioned, removed the suspicion by carrying from the Tiber a sieve full 
+of water without any of it dropping: these, then, and the like, are by no 
+means to be compared for greatness and virtue to those which, we read, 
+were wrought among God’s people. How much less can we compare 
+those marvels, which even the laws of heathen nations prohibit and 
+punish—I mean the magical and theurgic marvels, of which the great 
+part are merely illusions practised upon the senses, as the drawing down 
+of the moon, “that,” as Lucan says, “it may shed a stronger influence on 
+the plants?”44 And if some of these do seem to equal those which are 
+wrought by the godly, the end for which they are wrought distinguishes 
+the two, and shows that ours are incomparably the more excellent. For 
+those miracles commend the worship of a plurality of gods, who deserve 
+worship the less the more they demand it; but these of ours commend 
+the worship of the one God, who, both by the testimony of His own 
+Scriptures, and by the eventual abolition of sacrifices, proves that He 
+needs no such offerings. If, therefore, any angels demand sacrifice for 
+themselves, we must prefer those who demand it, not for themselves, but 
+for God, the Creator of all, whom they serve. For thus they prove how 
+sincerely they love us, since they wish by sacrifice to subject us, not to 
+themselves, but to Him by the contemplation of whom they themselves 
+are blessed, and to bring us to Him from whom they themselves have 
+
+
+never strayed. If, on the other hand, any angels wish us to sacrifice, not 
+to one, but to many, not, indeed, to themselves, but to the gods whose 
+angels they are, we must in this case also prefer those who are the angels 
+of the one God of gods, and who so bid us to worship Him as to preclude 
+our worshipping any other. But, further, if it be the case, as their pride 
+and deceitfulness rather indicate, that they are neither good angels nor 
+the angels of good gods, but wicked demons, who wish sacrifice to be 
+paid, not to the one only and supreme God, but to themselves, what 
+better protection against them can we choose than that of the one God 
+whom the good angels serve, the angels who bid us sacrifice, not to 
+themselves, but to Him whose sacrifice we ourselves ought to be? 
+
+
+17. Concerning the ark of the covenant, and the miraculous signs whereby God authenticated the 
+
+
+law and the promise 
+
+
+On this account it was that the law of God, given by the disposition of 
+angels, and which commanded that the one God of gods alone receive 
+sacred worship, to the exclusion of all others, was deposited in the ark, 
+called the ark of the testimony. By this name it is sufficiently indicated, 
+not that God, who was worshipped by all those rites, was shut up and 
+enclosed in that place, though His responses emanated from it along 
+with signs appreciable by the senses, but that His will was declared from 
+that throne. The law itself, too, was engraven on tables of stone, and, as 
+I have said, deposited in the ark, which the priests carried with due 
+reverence during the sojourn in the wilderness, along with the 
+tabernacle, which was in like manner called the tabernacle of the 
+testimony; and there was then an accompanying sign, which appeared as 
+a cloud by day and as a fire by night; when the cloud moved, the camp 
+was shifted, and where it stood the camp was pitched. Besides these 
+signs, and the voices which proceeded from the place where the ark was, 
+there were other miraculous testimonies to the law. For when the ark 
+was carried across Jordan, on the entrance to the land of promise, the 
+upper part of the river stopped in its course, and the lower part flowed 
+on, so as to present both to the ark and the people dry ground to pass 
+over. Then, when it was carried seven times round the first hostile and 
+polytheistic city they came to, its walls suddenly fell down, though 
+assaulted by no hand, struck by no battering-ram. Afterwards, too, when 
+they were now resident in the land of promise, and the ark had, in 
+
+
+punishment of their sin, been taken by their enemies, its captors 
+triumphantly placed it in the temple of their favourite god, and left it 
+shut up there, but, on opening the temple next day, they found the 
+image they used to pray to fallen to the ground and shamefully 
+shattered. Then, being themselves alarmed by portents, and still more 
+shamefully punished, they restored the ark of the testimony to the 
+people from whom they had taken it. And what was the manner of its 
+restoration? They placed it on a wagon, and yoked to it cows from which 
+they had taken the calves, and let them choose their own course, 
+expecting that in this way the divine will would be indicated; and the 
+cows, without any man driving or directing them, steadily pursued the 
+way to the Hebrews, without regarding the lowing of their calves, and 
+thus restored the ark to its worshippers. To God these and such like 
+wonders are small, but they are mighty to terrify and give wholesome 
+instruction to men. For if philosophers, and especially the Platonists, are 
+with justice esteemed wiser than other men, as I have just been 
+mentioning, because they taught that even these earthly and 
+insignificant things are ruled by Divine Providence, inferring this from 
+the numberless beauties which are observable not only in the bodies of 
+animals, but even in plants and grasses, how much more plainly do these 
+things attest the presence of divinity which happen at the time 
+predicted, and in which that religion is commended which forbids the 
+offering of sacrifice to any celestial, terrestrial, or infernal being, and 
+commands it to be offered to God only, who alone blesses us by His love 
+for us, and by our love to Him, and who, by arranging the appointed 
+times of those sacrifices, and by predicting that they were to pass into a 
+better sacrifice by a better Priest, testified that He has no appetite for 
+these sacrifices, but through them indicated others of more substantial 
+blessing—and all this not that He Himself may be glorified by these 
+honours, but that we may be stirred up to worship and cleave to Him, 
+being inflamed by His love, which is our advantage rather than His? 
+
+
+18. Against those who deny that the books of the Church are to be believed about the miracles 
+whereby the people of God were educated 
+
+
+Will some one say that these miracles are false, that they never 
+happened, and that the records of them are lies? Whoever says so, and 
+asserts that in such matters no records whatever can be credited, may 
+
+
+also say that there are no gods who care for human affairs. For they have 
+induced men to worship them only by means of miraculous works, 
+which the heathen histories testify, and by which the gods have made a 
+display of their own power rather than done any real service. This is the 
+reason why we have not undertaken in this work, of which we are now 
+writing the tenth book, to refute those who either deny that there is any 
+divine power, or contend that it does not interfere with human affairs, 
+but those who prefer their own god to our God, the Founder of the holy 
+and most glorious city, not knowing that He is also the invisible and 
+unchangeable Founder of this visible and changing world, and the truest 
+bestower of the blessed life which resides not in things created, but in 
+Himself. For thus speaks His most trustworthy prophet: “It is good for 
+me to be united to God.”45 Among philosophers it is a question, what is 
+that end and good to the attainment of which all our duties are to have a 
+relation? The Psalmist did not say, It is good for me to have great 
+wealth, or to wear imperial insignia, purple, sceptre, and diadem; or, as 
+some even of the philosophers have not blushed to say, It is good for me 
+to enjoy sensual pleasure; or, as the better men among them seemed to 
+say, My good is my spiritual strength; but, “It is good for me to be united 
+to God.” This he had learned from Him whom the holy angels, with the 
+accompanying witness of miracles, presented as the sole object of 
+worship. And hence he himself became the sacrifice of God, whose 
+spiritual love inflamed him, and into whose ineffable and incorporeal 
+embrace he yearned to cast himself. Moreover, if the worshippers of 
+many gods (whatever kind of gods they fancy their own to be) believe 
+that the miracles recorded in their civil histories, or in the books of 
+magic, or of the more respectable theurgy, were wrought by these gods, 
+what reason have they for refusing to believe the miracles recorded in 
+those writings, to which we owe a credence as much greater as He is 
+greater to whom alone these writings teach us to sacrifice? 
+
+
+19. On the reasonableness of offering, as the true religion teaches, a visible sacrifice to the one 
+true and invisible God 
+
+
+As to those who think that these visible sacrifices are suitably offered 
+to other gods, but that invisible sacrifices, the graces of purity of mind 
+and holiness of will, should be offered, as greater and better, to the 
+invisible God, Himself greater and better than all others, they must be 
+
+
+oblivious that these visible sacrifices are signs of the invisible, as the 
+words we utter are the signs of things. And therefore, as in prayer or 
+praise we direct intelligible words to Him to whom in our heart we offer 
+the very feelings we are expressing, so we are to understand that in 
+sacrifice we offer visible sacrifice only to Him to whom in our heart we 
+ought to present ourselves an invisible sacrifice. It is then that the 
+angels, and all those superior powers who are mighty by their goodness 
+and piety, regard us with pleasure, and rejoice with us and assist us to 
+the utmost of their power. But if we offer such worship to them, they 
+decline it; and when on any mission to men they become visible to the 
+senses, they positively forbid it. Examples of this occur in holy writ. 
+Some fancied they should, by adoration or sacrifice, pay the same 
+honour to angels as is due to God, and were prevented from doing so by 
+the angels themselves, and ordered to render it to Him to whom alone 
+they know it to be due. And the holy angels have in this been imitated 
+by holy men of God. For Paul and Barnabas, when they had wrought a 
+miracle of healing in Lycaonia, were thought to be gods, and the 
+Lycaonians desired to sacrifice to them, and they humbly and piously 
+declined this honour, and announced to them the God in whom they 
+should believe. And those deceitful and proud spirits, who exact 
+worship, do so simply because they know it to be due to the true God: 
+For that which they take pleasure in is not, as Porphyry says and some 
+fancy, the smell of the victims, but divine honours. They have, in fact, 
+plenty odours on all hands, and if they wished more, they could provide 
+them for themselves. But the spirits who arrogate to themselves divinity 
+are delighted not with the smoke of carcases, but with the suppliant 
+spirit which they deceive and hold in subjection, and hinder from 
+drawing near to God, preventing him from offering himself in sacrifice to 
+God by inducing him to sacrifice to others. 
+
+
+20. Of the supreme and true sacrifice which was effected by the Mediator between God and men 
+
+
+And hence that true Mediator, in so far as, by assuming the form of a 
+servant, He became the Mediator between God and men, the man Christ 
+Jesus, though in the form of God He received sacrifice together with the 
+Father, with whom He is one God, yet in the form of a servant He chose 
+rather to be than to receive a sacrifice, that not even by this instance any 
+one might have occasion to suppose that sacrifice should be rendered to 
+
+
+any creature. Thus He is both the Priest who offers and the Sacrifice 
+offered. And He designed that there should be a daily sign of this in the 
+sacrifice of the Church, which, being His body, learns to offer herself 
+through Him. Of this true Sacrifice the ancient sacrifices of the saints 
+were the various and numerous signs; and it was thus variously figured, 
+just as one thing is signified by a variety of words, that there may be less 
+weariness when we speak of it much. To this supreme and true sacrifice 
+all false sacrifices have given place. 
+
+
+21. Of the power delegated to demons for the trial and glorification of the saints, who conquer not 
+by propitiating the spirits of the air, but by abiding in God 
+
+
+The power delegated to the demons at certain appointed and well- 
+adjusted seasons, that they may give expression to their hostility to the 
+city of God by stirring up against it the men who are under their 
+influence, and may not only receive sacrifice from those who willingly 
+offer it, but may also extort it from the unwilling by violent persecution; 
+—this power is found to be not merely harmless, but even useful to the 
+Church, completing as it does the number of martyrs, whom the city of 
+God esteems as all the more illustrious and honoured citizens, because 
+they have striven even to blood against the sin of impiety. If the 
+ordinary language of the Church allowed it, we might more elegantly 
+call these men our heroes. For this name is said to be derived from Juno, 
+who in Greek is called Héré, and hence, according to the Greek myths, 
+one of her sons was called Heros. And these fables mystically signified 
+that Juno was mistress of the air, which they suppose to be inhabited by 
+the demons and the heroes, understanding by heroes the souls of the 
+well-deserving dead. But for a quite opposite reason would we call our 
+martyrs heroes—supposing, as I said, that the usage of ecclesiastical 
+language would admit of it—not because they lived along with the 
+demons in the air, but because they conquered these demons or powers 
+of the air, and among them Juno herself, be she what she may, not 
+unsuitably represented, as she commonly is by the poets, as hostile to 
+virtue, and jealous of men of mark aspiring to the heavens. Virgil, 
+however, unhappily gives way, and yields to her; for, though he 
+represents her as saying, “I am conquered by A‘neas,”4© Helenus gives 
+Æneas himself this religious advice : 
+
+
+“Pay vows to Juno: overbear 
+
+
+Her queenly soul with gift and prayer.”47 
+
+
+In conformity with this opinion, Porphyry—expressing, however, not so 
+much his own views as other people’s—says that a good god or genius 
+cannot come to a man unless the evil genius has been first of all 
+propitiated, implying that the evil deities had greater power than the 
+good; for, until they have been appeased and give place, the good can 
+give no assistance; and if the evil deities oppose, the good can give no 
+help; whereas the evil can do injury without the good being able to 
+prevent them. This is not the way of the true and truly holy religion; not 
+thus do our martyrs conquer Juno, that is to say, the powers of the air, 
+who envy the virtues of the pious. Our heroes, if we could so call them, 
+overcome Héré, not by suppliant gifts, but by divine virtues. As Scipio, 
+who conquered Africa by his valour, is more suitably styled Africanus 
+than if he had appeased his enemies by gifts, and so won their mercy. 
+
+
+22. Whence the saints derive power against demons and true purification of heart 
+
+
+It is by true piety that men of God cast out the hostile power of the air 
+which opposes godliness; it is by exorcising it, not by propitiating it; and 
+they overcome all the temptations of the adversary by praying, not to 
+him, but to their own God against him. For the devil cannot conquer or 
+subdue any but those who are in league with sin; and therefore he is 
+conquered in the name of Him who assumed humanity, and that without 
+sin, that Himself being both Priest and Sacrifice, He might bring about 
+the remission of sins, that is to say, might bring it about through the 
+Mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, by whom we are 
+reconciled to God, the cleansing from sin being accomplished. For men 
+are separated from God only by sins, from which we are in this life 
+cleansed not by our own virtue, but by the divine compassion; through 
+His indulgence, not through our own power. For, whatever virtue we 
+call our own is itself bestowed upon us by His goodness. And we might 
+attribute too much to ourselves while in the flesh, unless we lived in the 
+receipt of pardon until we laid it down. This is the reason why there has 
+been vouchsafed to us, through the Mediator, this grace that we who are 
+polluted by sinful flesh should be cleansed by the likeness of sinful flesh. 
+By this grace of God, wherein He has shown His great compassion 
+
+
+toward us, we are both governed by faith in this life, and, after this life, 
+are led onwards to the fullest perfection by the vision of immutable 
+truth. 
+
+
+23. Of the principles which, according to the Platonists, regulate the purification of the soul 
+
+
+Even Porphyry asserts that it was revealed by divine oracles that we 
+are not purified by any sacrifices4® to sun or moon, meaning it to be 
+inferred that we are not purified by sacrificing to any gods. For what 
+mysteries can purify, if those of the sun and moon, which are esteemed 
+the chief of the celestial gods, do not purify? He says, too, in the same 
+place, that “principles” can purify, lest it should be supposed, from his 
+saying that sacrificing to the sun and moon cannot purify, that 
+sacrificing to some other of the host of gods might do so. And what he as 
+a Platonist means by “principles,” we know.*9 For he speaks of God the 
+Father and God the Son, whom he calls (writing in Greek) the intellect 
+or mind of the Father;5° but of the Holy Spirit he says either nothing, or 
+nothing plainly, for I do not understand what other he speaks of as 
+holding the middle place between these two. For if, like Plotinus in his 
+discussion regarding the three principal substances,5! he wished us to 
+understand by this third the soul of nature, he would certainly not have 
+given it the middle place between these two, that is, between the Father 
+and the Son. For Plotinus places the soul of nature after the intellect of 
+the Father, while Porphyry, making it the mean, does not place it after, 
+but between the others. No doubt he spoke according to his light, or as 
+he thought expedient; but we assert that the Holy Spirit is the Spirit not 
+of the Father only, nor of the Son only, but of both. For philosophers 
+speak as they have a mind to, and in the most difficult matters do not 
+scruple to offend religious ears; but we are bound to speak according to 
+a certain rule, lest freedom of speech beget impiety of opinion about the 
+matters themselves of which we speak. 
+
+
+24. Of the one only true principle which alone purifies and renews human nature 
+
+
+Accordingly, when we speak of God, we do not affirm two or three 
+principles, no more than we are at liberty to affirm two or three gods; 
+although, speaking of each, of the Father, or of the Son, or of the Holy 
+Ghost, we confess that each is God: and yet we do not say, as the 
+Sabellian heretics say, that the Father is the same as the Son, and the 
+
+
+Holy Spirit the same as the Father and the Son; but we say that the 
+Father is the Father of the Son, and the Son the Son of the Father, and 
+that the Holy Spirit of the Father and the Son is neither the Father nor 
+the Son. It was therefore truly said that man is cleansed only by a 
+Principle, although the Platonists erred in speaking in the plural of 
+principles. But Porphyry, being under the dominion of these envious 
+powers, whose influence he was at once ashamed of and afraid to throw 
+off, refused to recognise that Christ is the Principle by whose incarnation 
+we are purified. Indeed he despised Him, because of the flesh itself 
+which He assumed, that He might offer a sacrifice for our purification—a 
+great mystery, unintelligible to Porphyry’s pride, which that true and 
+benignant Redeemer brought low by His humility, manifesting Himself 
+to mortals by the mortality which He assumed, and which the malignant 
+and deceitful mediators are proud of wanting, promising, as the boon of 
+immortals, a deceptive assistance to wretched men. Thus the good and 
+true Mediator showed that it is sin which is evil, and not the substance 
+or nature of flesh; for this, together with the human soul, could without 
+sin be both assumed and retained, and laid down in death, and changed 
+to something better by resurrection. He showed also that death itself, 
+although the punishment of sin, was submitted to by Him for our sakes 
+without sin, and must not be evaded by sin on our part, but rather, if 
+opportunity serves, be borne for righteousness’ sake. For he was able to 
+expiate sins by dying, because He both died, and not for sin of His own. 
+But He has not been recognised by Porphyry as the Principle, otherwise 
+he would have recognised Him as the Purifier. The Principle is neither 
+the flesh nor the human soul in Christ, but the Word by which all things 
+were made. The flesh, therefore, does not by its own virtue purify, but 
+by virtue of the Word by which it was assumed, when “the Word became 
+flesh and dwelt among us.”52 For, speaking mystically of eating His 
+flesh, when those who did not understand Him were offended and went 
+away, saying, “This is an hard saying, who can hear it?” He answered to 
+the rest who remained, “It is the Spirit that quickeneth; the flesh 
+profiteth nothing.”53 The Principle, therefore, having assumed a human 
+soul and flesh, cleanses the soul and flesh of believers. Therefore, when 
+the Jews asked Him who He was, He answered that He was the 
+Principle.54+ And this we carnal and feeble men, liable to sin, and 
+involved in the darkness of ignorance, could not possibly understand, 
+
+
+unless we were cleansed and healed by Him, both by means of what we 
+were, and of what we were not. For we were men, but we were not 
+righteous; whereas in His incarnation there was a human nature, but it 
+was righteous, and not sinful. This is the mediation whereby a hand is 
+stretched to the lapsed and fallen; this is the seed “ordained by angels,” 
+by whose ministry the law also was given enjoining the worship of one 
+God, and promising that this Mediator should come. 
+
+
+25. That all the saints, both under the law and before it, were justified by faith in the mystery of 
+Christ’s incarnation 
+
+
+It was by faith in this mystery, and godliness of life, that purification 
+was attainable even by the saints of old, whether before the law was 
+given to the Hebrews (for God and the angels were even then present as 
+instructors), or in the periods under the law, although the promises of 
+spiritual things, being presented in figure, seemed to be carnal, and 
+hence the name of Old Testament. For it was then the prophets lived, by 
+whom, as by angels, the same promise was announced; and among them 
+was he whose grand and divine sentiment regarding the end and 
+supreme good of man I have just now quoted, “It is good for me to 
+cleave to God.”55 In this psalm the distinction between the Old and New 
+Testaments is distinctly announced. For the Psalmist says, that when he 
+saw that the carnal and earthly promises were abundantly enjoyed by 
+the ungodly, his feet were almost gone, his steps had well-nigh slipped; 
+and that it seemed to him as if he had served God in vain, when he saw 
+that those who despised God increased in that prosperity which he 
+looked for at God’s hand. He says, too, that, in investigating this matter 
+with the desire of understanding why it was so, he had laboured in vain, 
+until he went into the sanctuary of God, and understood the end of those 
+whom he had erroneously considered happy. Then he understood that 
+they were cast down by that very thing, as he says, which they had 
+made their boast, and that they had been consumed and perished for 
+their iniquities; and that that whole fabric of temporal prosperity had 
+become as a dream when one awaketh, and suddenly finds himself 
+destitute of all the joys he had imaged in sleep. And, as in this earth or 
+earthy city they seemed to themselves to be great, he says, “O Lord, in 
+Thy city Thou wilt reduce their image to nothing.” He also shows how 
+beneficial it had been for him to seek even earthly blessings only from 
+
+
+the one true God, in whose power are all things, for he says, “As a beast 
+was I before Thee, and I am always with Thee.” “As a beast,” he says, 
+meaning that he was stupid. For I ought to have sought from Thee such 
+things as the ungodly could not enjoy as well as I, and not those things 
+which I saw them enjoying in abundance, and hence concluded I was 
+serving Thee in vain, because they who declined to serve Thee had what 
+I had not. Nevertheless, “I am always with Thee,” because even in my 
+desire for such things I did not pray to other gods. And consequently he 
+goes on, “Thou hast holden me by my right hand, and by Thy counsel 
+Thou hast guided me, and with glory hast taken me up;” as if all earthly 
+advantages were left-hand blessings, though, when he saw them enjoyed 
+by the wicked, his feet had almost gone. “For what,” he says, “have I in 
+heaven, and what have I desired from Thee upon earth?” He blames 
+himself, and is justly displeased with himself; because, though he had in 
+heaven so vast a possession (as he afterwards understood), he yet sought 
+from his God on earth a transitory and fleeting happiness—a happiness 
+of mire, we may say. “My heart and my flesh,” he says, “fail, O God of 
+my heart.” Happy failure, from things below to things above! And hence 
+in another psalm he says, “My soul longeth, yea, even faileth, for the 
+courts of the Lord.”5© Yet, though he had said of both his heart and his 
+flesh that they were failing, he did not say, O God of my heart and my 
+flesh, but, O God of my heart; for by the heart the flesh is made clean. 
+Therefore, says the Lord, “Cleanse that which is within, and the outside 
+shall be clean also.”57 He then says that God Himself—not anything 
+received from Him, but Himself—is his portion. “The God of my heart, 
+and my portion for ever.” Among the various objects of human choice, 
+God alone satisfied him. “For, lo,” he says, “they that are far from Thee 
+shall perish: Thou destroyest all them that go a-whoring from Thee”— 
+that is, who prostitute themselves to many gods. And then follows the 
+verse for which all the rest of the psalm seems to prepare: “It is good for 
+me to cleave to God”—not to go far off; not to go a-whoring with a 
+multitude of gods. And then shall this union with God be perfected, 
+when all that is to be redeemed in us has been redeemed. But for the 
+present we must, as he goes on to say, “place our hope in God.” “For 
+that which is seen,” says the apostle, “is not hope. For what a man sees, 
+why does he yet hope for? But if we hope for that we see not, then do 
+we with patience wait for it.”58 Being, then, for the present established 
+
+
+in this hope, let us do what the Psalmist further indicates, and become in 
+our measure angels or messengers of God, declaring His will, and 
+praising His glory and His grace. For when he had said, “To place my 
+hope in God,” he goes on, “that I may declare all Thy praises in the gates 
+of the daughter of Zion.” This is the most glorious city of God; this is the 
+city which knows and worships one God: she is celebrated by the holy 
+angels, who invite us to their society, and desire us to become fellow- 
+citizens with them in this city; for they do not wish us to worship them 
+as our gods, but to join them in worshipping their God and ours; nor to 
+sacrifice to them, but, together with them, to become a sacrifice to God. 
+Accordingly, whoever will lay aside malignant obstinacy, and consider 
+these things, shall be assured that all these blessed and immortal spirits, 
+who do not envy us (for if they envied they were not blessed), but rather 
+love us, and desire us to be as blessed as themselves, look on us with 
+greater pleasure, and give us greater assistance, when we join them in 
+worshipping one God, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, than if we were to 
+offer to themselves sacrifice and worship. 
+
+
+26. Of Porphyry’s weakness in wavering between the confession of the true God and the worship 
+
+
+of demons 
+
+
+I know not how it is so, but it seems to me that Porphyry blushed for 
+his friends the theurgists; for he knew all that I have adduced, but did 
+not frankly condemn polytheistic worship. He said, in fact, that there are 
+some angels who visit earth, and reveal divine truth to theurgists, and 
+others who publish on earth the things that belong to the Father, His 
+height and depth. Can we believe, then, that the angels whose office it is 
+to declare the will of the Father, wish us to be subject to any but Him 
+whose will they declare? And hence, even this Platonist himself 
+judiciously observes that we should rather imitate than invoke them. We 
+ought not, then, to fear that we may offend these immortal and happy 
+subjects of the one God by not sacrificing to them; for this they know to 
+be due only to the one true God, in allegiance to whom they themselves 
+find their blessedness, and therefore they will not have it given to them, 
+either in figure or in the reality, which the mysteries of sacrifice 
+symbolized. Such arrogance belongs to proud and wretched demons, 
+whose disposition is diametrically opposite to the piety of those who are 
+subject to God, and whose blessedness consists in attachment to Him. 
+
+
+And, that we also may attain to this bliss, they aid us, as is fit, with 
+sincere kindliness, and usurp over us no dominion, but declare to us Him 
+under whose rule we are then fellow-subjects. Why, then, O philosopher, 
+do you still fear to speak freely against the powers which are inimical 
+both to true virtue and to the gifts of the true God? Already you have 
+discriminated between the angels who proclaim God’s will, and those 
+who visit theurgists, drawn down by I know not what art. Why do you 
+still ascribe to these latter the honour of declaring divine truth? If they 
+do not declare the will of the Father, what divine revelations can they 
+make? Are not these the evil spirits who were bound over by the 
+incantations of an envious man,°? that they should not grant purity of 
+soul to another, and could not, as you say, be set free from these bonds 
+by a good man anxious for purity, and recover power over their own 
+actions? Do you still doubt whether these are wicked demons; or do you, 
+perhaps, feign ignorance, that you may not give offence to the 
+theurgists, who have allured you by their secret rites, and have taught 
+you, as a mighty boon, these insane and pernicious devilries? Do you 
+dare to elevate above the air, and even to heaven, these envious powers, 
+or pests, let me rather call them, less worthy of the name of sovereign 
+than of slaves, as you yourself own; and are you not ashamed to place 
+them even among your sidereal gods, and so put a slight upon the stars 
+themselves? 
+
+
+27. Of the impiety of Porphyry, which is worse than even the mistake of Apuleius 
+
+
+How much more tolerable and accordant with human feeling is the 
+error of your Platonist co-sectary Apuleius! for he attributed the diseases 
+and storms of human passions only to the demons who occupy a grade 
+beneath the moon, and makes even this avowal as by constraint 
+regarding gods whom he honours; but the superior and celestial gods, 
+who inhabit the ethereal regions, whether visible, as the sun, moon, and 
+other luminaries, whose brilliancy makes them conspicuous, or invisible, 
+but believed in by him, he does his utmost to remove beyond the 
+slightest stain of these perturbations. It is not, then, from Plato, but from 
+your Chaldean teachers you have learned to elevate human vices to the 
+ethereal and empyreal regions of the world and to the celestial 
+firmament, in order that your theurgists might be able to obtain from 
+your gods divine revelations; and yet you make yourself superior to 
+
+
+these divine revelations by your intellectual life, which dispenses with 
+these theurgic purifications as not needed by a philosopher. But, by way 
+of rewarding your teachers, you recommend these arts to other men, 
+who, not being philosophers, may be persuaded to use what you 
+acknowledge to be useless to yourself, who are capable of higher things; 
+so that those who cannot avail themselves of the virtue of philosophy, 
+which is too arduous for the multitude, may, at your instigation, betake 
+themselves to theurgists by whom they may be purified, not, indeed, in 
+the intellectual, but in the spiritual part of the soul. Now, as the persons 
+who are unfit for philosophy form incomparably the majority of 
+mankind, more may be compelled to consult these secret and illicit 
+teachers of yours than frequent the Platonic schools. For these most 
+impure demons, pretending to be ethereal gods, whose herald and 
+messenger you have become, have promised that those who are purified 
+by theurgy in the spiritual part of their soul shall not indeed return to 
+the Father, but shall dwell among the ethereal gods above the aerial 
+regions. But such fancies are not listened to by the multitudes of men 
+whom Christ came to set free from the tyranny of demons. For in Him 
+they have the most gracious cleansing, in which mind, spirit, and body 
+alike participate. For, in order that He might heal the whole man from 
+the plague of sin, He took without sin the whole human nature. Would 
+that you had known Him, and would that you had committed yourself 
+for healing to Him rather than to your own frail and infirm human 
+virtue, or to pernicious and curious arts! He would not have deceived 
+you; for Him your own oracles, on your own showing, acknowledged 
+holy and immortal. It is of Him, too, that the most famous poet speaks, 
+poetically indeed, since he applies it to the person of another, yet truly, 
+if you refer it to Christ, saying, “Under thine auspices, if any traces of 
+our crimes remain, they shall be obliterated, and earth freed from its 
+perpetual fear.”6° By which he indicates that, by reason of the infirmity 
+which attaches to this life, the greatest progress in virtue and 
+righteousness leaves room for the existence, if not of crimes, yet of the 
+traces of crimes, which are obliterated only by that Saviour of whom this 
+verse speaks. For that he did not say this at the prompting of his own 
+fancy, Virgil tells us in almost the last verse of that 4th Eclogue, when he 
+says, “The last age predicted by the Cumzan sibyl has now arrived;” 
+whence it plainly appears that this had been dictated by the Cumzan 
+
+
+sibyl. But those theurgists, or rather demons, who assume the 
+appearance and form of gods, pollute rather than purify the human spirit 
+by false appearances and the delusive mockery of unsubstantial forms. 
+How can those whose own spirit is unclean cleanse the spirit of man? 
+Were they not unclean, they would not be bound by the incantations of 
+an envious man, and would neither be afraid nor grudge to bestow that 
+hollow boon which they promise. But it is sufficient for our purpose that 
+you acknowledge that the intellectual soul, that is, our mind, cannot be 
+justified by theurgy; and that even the spiritual or inferior part of our 
+soul cannot by this act be made eternal and immortal, though you 
+maintain that it can be purified by it. Christ, however, promises life 
+eternal; and therefore to Him the world flocks, greatly to your 
+indignation, greatly also to your astonishment and confusion. What 
+avails your forced avowal that theurgy leads men astray, and deceives 
+vast numbers by its ignorant and foolish teaching, and that it is the most 
+manifest mistake to have recourse by prayer and sacrifice to angels and 
+principalities, when at the same time, to save yourself from the charge of 
+spending labour in vain on such arts, you direct men to the theurgists, 
+that by their means men, who do not live by the rule of the intellectual 
+soul, may have their spiritual soul purified? 
+
+
+28. How it is that Porphyry has been so blind as not to recognise the true wisdom—Christ 
+
+
+You drive men, therefore, into the most palpable error. And yet you 
+are not ashamed of doing so much harm, though you call yourself a 
+lover of virtue and wisdom. Had you been true and faithful in this 
+profession, you would have recognised Christ, the virtue of God and the 
+wisdom of God, and would not, in the pride of vain science, have 
+revolted from His wholesome humility. Nevertheless you acknowledge 
+that the spiritual part of the soul can be purified by the virtue of chastity 
+without the aid of those theurgic arts and mysteries which you wasted 
+your time in learning. You even say, sometimes, that these mysteries do 
+not raise the soul after death, so that, after the termination of this life, 
+they seem to be of no service even to the part you call spiritual; and yet 
+you recur on every opportunity to these arts, for no other purpose, so far 
+as I see, than to appear an accomplished theurgist, and gratify those who 
+are curious in illicit arts, or else to inspire others with the same 
+curiosity. But we give you all praise for saying that this art is to be 
+
+
+feared, both on account of the legal enactments against it, and by reason 
+of the danger involved in the very practice of it. And would that in this, 
+at least, you were listened to by its wretched votaries, that they might be 
+withdrawn from entire absorption in it, or might even be preserved from 
+tampering with it at all! You say, indeed, that ignorance, and the 
+numberless vices resulting from it, cannot be removed by any mysteries, 
+but only by the *atp'*¢ voids, that is, the Father’s mind or intellect 
+conscious of the Father’s will. But that Christ is this mind you do not 
+believe; for Him you despise on account of the body He took of a woman 
+and the shame of the cross; for your lofty wisdom spurns such low and 
+contemptible things, and soars to more exalted regions. But He fulfils 
+what the holy prophets truly predicted regarding Him: “I will destroy the 
+wisdom of the wise, and bring to nought the prudence of the prudent.”6! 
+For He does not destroy and bring to nought His own gift in them, but 
+what they arrogate to themselves, and do not hold of Him. And hence 
+the apostle, having quoted this testimony from the prophet, adds, 
+“Where is the wise? where is the scribe? where is the disputer of this 
+world? Hath not God made foolish the wisdom of this world? For after 
+that, in the wisdom of God, the world by wisdom knew not God, it 
+pleased God by the foolishness of preaching to save them that believe. 
+For the Jews require a sign, and the Greeks seek after wisdom; but we 
+preach Christ crucified, unto the Jews a stumbling-block, and unto the 
+Greeks foolishness; but unto them which are called, both Jews and 
+Greeks, Christ the power of God, and the wisdom of God. Because the 
+foolishness of God is wiser than men; and the weakness of God is 
+stronger than men.”62 This is despised as a weak and foolish thing by 
+those who are wise and strong in themselves; yet this is the grace which 
+heals the weak, who do not proudly boast a blessedness of their own, but 
+rather humbly acknowledge their real misery. 
+
+
+29. Of the incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ, which the Platonists in their impiety blush to 
+
+
+acknowledge 
+
+
+You proclaim the Father and His Son, whom you call the Father’s 
+intellect or mind, and between these a third, by whom we suppose you 
+mean the Holy Spirit, and in your own fashion you call these three Gods. 
+In this, though your expressions are inaccurate, you do in some sort, and 
+as through a veil, see what we should strive towards; but the incarnation 
+
+
+of the unchangeable Son of God, whereby we are saved, and are enabled 
+to reach the things we believe, or in part understand, this is what you 
+refuse to recognise. You see in a fashion, although at a distance, 
+although with filmy eye, the country in which we should abide; but the 
+way to it you know not. Yet you believe in grace, for you say it is 
+granted to few to reach God by virtue of intelligence. For you do not say, 
+“Few have thought fit or have wished,” but, “It has been granted to 
+few”—distinctly acknowledging God’s grace, not man’s sufficiency. You 
+also use this word more expressly, when, in accordance with the opinion 
+of Plato, you make no doubt that in this life a man cannot by any means 
+attain to perfect wisdom, but that whatever is lacking is in the future life 
+made up to those who live intellectually, by God’s providence and grace. 
+Oh, had you but recognised the grace of God in Jesus Christ our Lord, 
+and that very incarnation of His, wherein He assumed a human soul and 
+body, you might have seemed the brightest example of grace!©3 But what 
+am I doing? I know it is useless to speak to a dead man—useless, at least, 
+so far as regards you, but perhaps not in vain for those who esteem you 
+highly, and love you on account of their love of wisdom or curiosity 
+about those arts which you ought not to have learned; and these persons 
+I address in your name. The grace of God could not have been more 
+graciously commended to us than thus, that the only Son of God, 
+remaining unchangeable in Himself, should assume humanity, and 
+should give us the hope of His love, by means of the mediation of a 
+human nature, through which we, from the condition of men, might 
+come to Him who was so far off—the immortal from the mortal; the 
+unchangeable from the changeable; the just from the unjust; the blessed 
+from the wretched. And, as He had given us a natural instinct to desire 
+blessedness and immortality, He Himself continuing to be blessed, but 
+assuming mortality, by enduring what we fear, taught us to despise it, 
+that what we long for He might bestow upon us. 
+
+But in order to your acquiescence in this truth, it is lowliness that is 
+requisite, and to this it is extremely difficult to bend you. For what is 
+there incredible, especially to men like you, accustomed to speculation, 
+which might have predisposed you to believe in this—what is there 
+incredible, I say, in the assertion that God assumed a human soul and 
+body? You yourselves ascribe such excellence to the intellectual soul, 
+which is, after all, the human soul, that you maintain that it can become 
+
+
+consubstantial with that intelligence of the Father whom you believe in 
+as the Son of God. What incredible thing is it, then, if some one soul be 
+assumed by Him in an ineffable and unique manner for the salvation of 
+many? Moreover, our nature itself testifies that a man is incomplete 
+unless a body be united with the soul. This certainly would be more 
+incredible, were it not of all things the most common; for we should 
+more easily believe in a union between spirit and spirit, or, to use your 
+own terminology, between the incorporeal and the incorporeal, even 
+though the one were human, the other divine, the one changeable and 
+the other unchangeable, than in a union between the corporeal and the 
+incorporeal. But perhaps it is the unprecedented birth of a body from a 
+virgin that staggers you? But, so far from this being a difficulty, it ought 
+rather to assist you to receive our religion, that a miraculous person was 
+born miraculously. Or, do you find a difficulty in the tact that, after His 
+body had been given up to death, and had been changed into a higher 
+kind of body by resurrection, and was now no longer mortal but 
+incorruptible, He carried it up into heavenly places? Perhaps you refuse 
+to believe this, because you remember that Porphyry, in these very 
+books from which I have cited so much, and which treat of the return of 
+the soul, so frequently teaches that a body of every kind is to be escaped 
+from, in order that the soul may dwell in blessedness with God. But here, 
+in place of following Porphyry, you ought rather to have corrected him, 
+especially since you agree with him in believing such incredible things 
+about the soul of this visible world and huge material frame. For, as 
+scholars of Plato, you hold that the world is an animal, and a very happy 
+animal, which you wish to be also everlasting. How, then, is it never to 
+be loosed from a body, and yet never lose its happiness, if, in order to 
+the happiness of the soul, the body must be left behind? The sun, too, 
+and the other stars, you not only acknowledge to be bodies, in which 
+you have the cordial assent of all seeing men, but also, in obedience to 
+what you reckon a profounder insight, you declare that they are very 
+blessed animals, and eternal, together with their bodies. Why is it, then, 
+that when the Christian faith is pressed upon you, you forget, or pretend 
+to ignore, what you habitually discuss or teach? Why is it that you refuse 
+to be Christians, on the ground that you hold opinions which, in fact, 
+you yourself demolish? Is it not because Christ came in lowliness, and ye 
+are proud? The precise nature of the resurrection bodies of the saints 
+
+
+may sometimes occasion discussion among those who are best read in 
+the Christian Scriptures; yet there is not among us the smallest doubt 
+that they shall be everlasting, and of a nature exemplified in the instance 
+of Christ’s risen body. But whatever be their nature, since we maintain 
+that they shall be absolutely incorruptible and immortal, and shall offer 
+no hindrance to the soul’s contemplation by which it is fixed in God, and 
+as you say that among the celestials the bodies of the eternally blessed 
+are eternal, why do you maintain that, in order to blessedness, every 
+body must be escaped from? Why do you thus seek such a plausible 
+reason for escaping from the Christian faith, if not because, as I again 
+say, Christ is humble and ye proud? Are ye ashamed to be corrected? 
+This is the vice of the proud. It is, forsooth, a degradation for learned 
+men to pass from the school of Plato to the discipleship of Christ, who by 
+His Spirit taught a fisherman to think and to say, “In the beginning was 
+the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The 
+same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by Him; and 
+without Him was not anything made that was made. In Him was life; 
+and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in darkness; and 
+the darkness comprehended it not.”64 The old saint Simplicianus, 
+afterwards bishop of Milan, used to tell me that a certain Platonist was 
+in the habit of saying that this opening passage of the holy gospel, 
+entitled “According to John,” should be written in letters of gold, and 
+hung up in all churches in the most conspicuous place. But the proud 
+scorn to take God for their Master, because “the Word was made flesh 
+and dwelt among us.”©5 So that, with these miserable creatures, it is not 
+enough that they are sick, but they boast of their sickness, and are 
+ashamed of the medicine which could heal them. And, doing so, they 
+secure not elevation, but a more disastrous fall. 
+
+
+30. Porphyry’s emendations and modifications of Platonism. 
+
+
+If it is considered unseemly to emend anything which Plato has 
+touched, why did Porphyry himself make emendations, and these not a 
+few? for it is very certain that Plato wrote that the souls of men return 
+after death to the bodies of beasts.6© Plotinus also, Porphyry’s teacher, 
+held this opinion;®” yet Porphyry justly rejected it. He was of opinion 
+that human souls return indeed into human bodies, but not into the 
+bodies they had left, but other new bodies. He shrank from the other 
+
+
+opinion, lest a woman who had returned into a mule might possibly 
+carry her own son on her back. He did not shrink, however, from a 
+theory which admitted the possibility of a mother coming back into a 
+girl and marrying her own son. How much more honourable a creed is 
+that which was taught by the holy and truthful angels, uttered by the 
+prophets who were moved by God’s Spirit, preached by Him who was 
+foretold as the coming Saviour by His forerunning heralds, and by the 
+apostles whom He sent forth, and who filled the whole world with the 
+gospel—how much more honourable, I say, is the belief that souls return 
+once for all to their own bodies, than that they return again and again to 
+divers bodies? Nevertheless Porphyry, as I have said, did considerably 
+improve upon this opinion, in so far, at least, as he maintained that 
+human souls could transmigrate only into human bodies, and made no 
+scruple about demolishing the bestial prisons into which Plato had 
+wished to cast them. He says, too, that God put the soul into the world 
+that it might recognise the evils of matter, and return to the Father, and 
+be for ever emancipated from the polluting contact of matter. And 
+although here is some inappropriate thinking (for the soul is rather given 
+to the body that it may do good; for it would not learn evil unless it did 
+it), yet he corrects the opinion of other Platonists, and that on a point of 
+no small importance, inasmuch as he avows that the soul, which is 
+purged from all evil and received to the Father’s presence, shall never 
+again suffer the ills of this life. By this opinion he quite subverted the 
+favourite Platonic dogma, that as dead men are made out of living ones, 
+so living men are made out of dead ones; and he exploded the idea 
+which Virgil seems to have adopted from Plato, that the purified souls 
+which have been sent into the Elysian fields (the poetic name for the 
+joys of the blessed) are summoned to the river Lethe, that is, to the 
+oblivion of the past, 
+
+
+“That earthward they may pass once more, 
+Remembering not the things before, 
+And with a blind propension yearn 
+
+
+To fleshly bodies to return.”©8 
+
+
+This found no favour with Porphyry, and very justly; for it is indeed 
+foolish to believe that souls should desire to return from that life, which 
+
+
+cannot be very blessed unless by the assurance of its permanence, and to 
+come back into this life, and to the pollution of corruptible bodies, as if 
+the result of perfect purification were only to make defilement desirable. 
+For if perfect purification effects the oblivion of all evils, and the 
+oblivion of evils creates a desire for a body in which the soul may again 
+be entangled with evils, then the supreme felicity will be the cause of 
+infelicity, and the perfection of wisdom the cause of foolishness, and the 
+purest cleansing the cause of defilement. And, however long the 
+blessedness of the soul last, it cannot be founded on truth, if, in order to 
+be blessed, it must be deceived. For it cannot be blessed unless it be free 
+from fear. But, to be free from fear, it must be under the false impression 
+that it shall be always blessed—the false impression, for it is destined to 
+be also at some time miserable. How, then, shall the soul rejoice in truth, 
+whose joy is founded on falsehood? Porphyry saw this, and therefore 
+said that the purified soul returns to the Father, that it may never more 
+be entangled in the polluting contact with evil. The opinion, therefore, 
+of some Platonists, that there is a necessary revolution carrying souls 
+away and bringing them round again to the same things, is false. But, 
+were it true, what were the advantage of knowing it? Would the 
+Platonists presume to allege their superiority to us, because we were in 
+this life ignorant of what they themselves were doomed to be ignorant of 
+when perfected in purity and wisdom in another and better life, and 
+which they must be ignorant of if they are to be blessed? If it were most 
+absurd and foolish to say so, then certainly we must prefer Porphyry’s 
+opinion to the idea of a circulation of souls through constantly 
+alternating happiness and misery. And if this is just, here is a Platonist 
+emending Plato, here is a man who saw what Plato did not see, and who 
+did not shrink from correcting so illustrious a master, but preferred truth 
+to Plato. 
+
+
+31. Against the arguments on which the Platonists ground their assertion that the human soul is 
+
+
+co-eternal with God 
+
+
+Why, then, do we not rather believe the divinity in those matters, 
+which human talent cannot fathom? Why do we not credit the assertion 
+of divinity, that the soul is not co-eternal with God, but is created, and 
+once was not? For the Platonists seemed to themselves to allege an 
+adequate reason for their rejection of this doctrine, when they affirmed 
+
+
+that nothing could be everlasting which had not always existed. Plato, 
+however, in writing concerning the world and the gods in it, whom the 
+Supreme made, most expressly states that they had a beginning and yet 
+would have no end, but, by the sovereign will of the Creator, would 
+endure eternally. But, by way of interpreting this, the Platonists have 
+discovered that he meant a beginning, not of time, but of cause. “For as 
+if a foot,” they say, “had been always from eternity in dust, there would 
+always have been a print underneath it; and yet no one would doubt that 
+this print was made by the pressure of the foot, nor that, though the one 
+was made by the other, neither was prior to the other; so,” they say, “the 
+world and the gods created in it have always been, their Creator always 
+existing, and yet they were made.” If, then, the soul has always existed, 
+are we to say that its wretchedness has always existed? For if there is 
+something in it which was not from eternity, but began in time, why is it 
+impossible that the soul itself, though not previously existing, should 
+begin to be in time? Its blessedness, too, which, as he owns, is to be 
+more stable, and indeed endless, after the soul’s experience of evils—this 
+undoubtedly has a beginning in time, and yet is to be always, though 
+previously it had no existence. This whole argumentation, therefore, to 
+establish that nothing can be endless except that which has had no 
+beginning, falls to the ground. For here we find the blessedness of the 
+soul, which has a beginning, and yet has no end. And, therefore, let the 
+incapacity of man give place to the authority of God; and let us take our 
+belief regarding the true religion from the ever-blessed spirits, who do 
+not seek for themselves that honour which they know to be due to their 
+God and ours, and who do not command us to sacrifice save only to 
+Him, whose sacrifice, as I have often said already, and must often say 
+again, we and they ought together to be, offered through that Priest who 
+offered Himself to death a sacrifice for us, in that human nature which 
+He assumed, and according to which He desired to be our Priest. 
+
+
+32. Of the universal way of the soul’s deliverance, which Porphyry did not find because he did not 
+rightly seek it, and which the grace of Christ has alone thrown open 
+
+
+This is the religion which possesses the universal way for delivering 
+the soul; for, except by this way, none can be delivered. This is a kind of 
+royal way, which alone leads to a kingdom which does not totter like all 
+temporal dignities, but stands firm on eternal foundations. And when 
+
+
+Porphyry says, towards the end of the first book De Regressu Anime, that 
+no system of doctrine which furnishes the universal way for delivering 
+the soul has as yet been received, either from the truest philosophy, or 
+from the ideas and practices of the Indians, or from the reasoning®9 of 
+the Chaldzans, or from any source whatever, and that no historical 
+reading had made him acquainted with that way, he manifestly 
+acknowledges that there is such a way, but that as yet he was not 
+acquainted with it. Nothing of all that he had so laboriously learned 
+concerning the deliverance of the soul, nothing of all that he seemed to 
+others, if not to himself, to know and believe, satisfied him. For he 
+perceived that there was still wanting a commanding authority which it 
+might be right to follow in a matter of such importance. And when he 
+says that he had not learned from any truest philosophy a system which 
+possessed the universal way of the soul’s deliverance, he shows plainly 
+enough, as it seems to me, either that the philosophy of which he was a 
+disciple was not the truest, or that it did not comprehend such a way. 
+And how can that be the truest philosophy which does not possess this 
+way? For what else is the universal way of the soul’s deliverance than 
+that by which all souls universally are delivered, and without which, 
+therefore, no soul is delivered? And when he says, in addition, “or from 
+the ideas and practices of the Indians, or from the reasoning of the 
+Chaldeans, or from any source whatever,” he declares in the most 
+unequivocal language that this universal way of the soul’s deliverance 
+was not embraced in what he had learned either from the Indians or the 
+Chaldeans; and yet he could not forbear stating that it was from the 
+Chaldzans he had derived these divine oracles of which he makes such 
+frequent mention. What, therefore, does he mean by this universal way 
+of the soul’s deliverance, which had not yet been made known by any 
+truest philosophy, or by the doctrinal systems of those nations which 
+were considered to have great insight in things divine, because they 
+indulged more freely in a curious and fanciful science and worship of 
+angels? What is this universal way of which he acknowledges his 
+ignorance, if not a way which does not belong to one nation as its 
+special property, but is common to all, and divinely bestowed? 
+Porphyry, a man of no mediocre abilities, does not question that such a 
+way exists; for he believes that Divine Providence could not have left 
+men destitute of this universal way of delivering the soul. For he does 
+
+
+not say that this way does not exist, but that this great boon and 
+assistance has not yet been discovered, and has not come to his 
+knowledge. And no wonder; for Porphyry lived in an age when this 
+universal way of the soul’s deliverance—in other words, the Christian 
+religion—was exposed to the persecutions of idolaters and demon- 
+worshippers, and earthly rulers,70 that the number of martyrs or 
+witnesses for the truth might be completed and consecrated, and that by 
+them proof might be given that we must endure all bodily sufferings in 
+the cause of the holy faith, and for the commendation of the truth. 
+Porphyry, being a witness of these persecutions, concluded that this way 
+was destined to a speedy extinction, and that it, therefore, was not the 
+universal way of the soul’s deliverance, and did not see that the very 
+thing that thus moved him, and deterred him from becoming a Christian, 
+contributed to the confirmation and more effectual commendation of our 
+religion. 
+
+This, then, is the universal way of the soul’s deliverance, the way that 
+is granted by the divine compassion to the nations universally. And no 
+nation to which the knowledge of it has already come, or may hereafter 
+come, ought to demand, Why so soon? or, Why so late?—for the design 
+of Him who sends it is impenetrable by human capacity. This was felt by 
+Porphyry when he confined himself to saying that this gift of God was 
+not yet received, and had not yet come to his knowledge. For, though 
+this was so, he did not on that account pronounce that the way itself had 
+no existence. This, I say, is the universal way for the deliverance of 
+believers, concerning which the faithful Abraham received the divine 
+assurance, “In thy seed shall all nations be blessed.””! He, indeed, was 
+by birth a Chaldean; but, that he might receive these great promises, 
+and that there might be propagated from him a seed “disposed by angels 
+in the hand of a Mediator,”’2 in whom this universal way, thrown open 
+to all nations for the deliverance of the soul, might be found, he was 
+ordered to leave his country, and kindred, and father’s house. Then was 
+he himself, first of all, delivered from the Chaldzan superstitions, and by 
+his obedience worshipped the one true God, whose promises he 
+faithfully trusted. This is the universal way, of which it is said in holy 
+prophecy, “God be merciful unto us, and bless us, and cause His face to 
+shine upon us; that Thy way may be known upon earth, Thy saving 
+health among all nations.””3 And hence, when our Saviour, so long after, 
+
+
+had taken flesh of the seed of Abraham, He says of Himself, “I am the 
+way, the truth, and the life.””74 This is the universal way, of which so 
+long before it had been predicted, “And it shall come to pass in the last 
+days, that the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established in the 
+top of the mountains, and shall be exalted above the hills; and all 
+nations shall flow unto it. And many people shall go and say, Come ye, 
+and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of 
+Jacob; and He will teach us of His ways, and we will walk in His paths: 
+for out of Sion shall go forth the law, and the word of the Lord from 
+Jerusalem.”75 This way, therefore, is not the property of one, but of all 
+nations. The law and the word of the Lord did not remain in Zion and 
+Jerusalem, but issued thence to be universally diffused. And therefore 
+the Mediator Himself, after His resurrection, says to His alarmed 
+disciples, “These are the words which I spake unto you while I was yet 
+with you, that all things must be fulfilled which were written in the law 
+of Moses, and in the prophets, and in the Psalms, concerning me. Then 
+opened He their understandings that they might understand the 
+Scriptures, and said unto them, Thus it is written, and thus it behoved 
+Christ to suffer, and to rise from the dead the third day: and that 
+repentance and remission of sins should be preached in His name among 
+all nations, beginning at Jerusalem.”76 This is the universal way of the 
+soul’s deliverance, which the holy angels and the holy prophets formerly 
+disclosed where they could among the few men who found the grace of 
+God, and especially in the Hebrew nation, whose commonwealth was, as 
+it were, consecrated to prefigure and fore-announce the city of God 
+which was to be gathered from all nations, by their tabernacle, and 
+temple, and priesthood, and sacrifices. In some explicit statements, and 
+in many obscure foreshadowings, this way was declared; but latterly 
+came the Mediator Himself in the flesh, and His blessed apostles, 
+revealing how the grace of the New Testament more openly explained 
+what had been obscurely hinted to preceding generations, in conformity 
+with the relation of the ages of the human race, and as it pleased God in 
+His wisdom to appoint, who also bore them witness with signs and 
+miracles, some of which I have cited above. For not only were there 
+visions of angels, and words heard from those heavenly ministrants, but 
+also men of God, armed with the word of simple piety, cast out unclean 
+spirits from the bodies and senses of men, and healed deformities and 
+
+
+sicknesses; the wild beasts of earth and sea, the birds of air, inanimate 
+things, the elements, the stars, obeyed their divine commands; the 
+powers of hell gave way before them, the dead were restored to life. I 
+say nothing of the miracles peculiar and proper to the Saviour’s own 
+person, especially the nativity and the resurrection; in the one of which 
+He wrought only the mystery of a virgin maternity, while in the other 
+He furnished an instance of the resurrection which all shall at last 
+experience. This way purifies the whole man, and prepares the mortal in 
+all his parts for immortality. For, to prevent us from seeking for one 
+purgation for the part which Porphyry calls intellectual, and another for 
+the part he calls spiritual, and another for the body itself, our most 
+mighty and truthful Purifier and Saviour assumed the whole human 
+nature. Except by this way, which has been present among men both 
+during the period of the promises and of the proclamation of their 
+fulfilment, no man has been delivered, no man is delivered, no man shall 
+be delivered. 
+
+As to Porphyry’s statement that the universal way of the soul’s 
+deliverance had not yet come to his knowledge by any acquaintance he 
+had with history, I would ask, what more remarkable history can be 
+found than that which has taken possession of the whole world by its 
+authoritative voice? or what more trustworthy than that which narrates 
+past events, and predicts the future with equal clearness, and in the 
+unfulfilled predictions of which we are constrained to believe by those 
+that are already fulfilled? For neither Porphyry nor any Platonists can 
+despise divination and prediction, even of things that pertain to this life 
+and earthly matters, though they justly despise ordinary soothsaying and 
+the divination that is connected with magical arts. They deny that these 
+are the predictions of great men, or are to be considered important, and 
+they are right; for they are founded, either on the foresight of subsidiary 
+causes, as to a professional eye much of the course of a disease is 
+foreseen by certain premonitory symptoms, or the unclean demons 
+predict what they have resolved to do, that they may thus work upon the 
+thoughts and desires of the wicked with an appearance of authority, and 
+incline human frailty to imitate their impure actions. It is not such things 
+that the saints who walk in the universal way care to predict as 
+important, although, for the purpose of commending the faith, they 
+knew and often predicted even such things as could not be detected by 
+
+
+human observation, nor be readily verified by experience. But there 
+were other truly important and divine events which they predicted, in so 
+far as it was given them to know the will of God. For the incarnation of 
+Christ, and all those important marvels that were accomplished in Him, 
+and done in His name; the repentance of men and the conversion of their 
+wills to God; the remission of sins, the grace of righteousness, the faith 
+of the pious, and the multitudes in all parts of the world who believe in 
+the true divinity; the overthrow of idolatry and demon worship, and the 
+testing of the faithful by trials; the purification of those who persevered, 
+and their deliverance from all evil; the day of judgment, the resurrection 
+of the dead, the eternal damnation of the community of the ungodly, 
+and the eternal kingdom of the most glorious city of God, ever-blessed in 
+the enjoyment of the vision of God—these things were predicted and 
+promised in the Scriptures of this way; and of these we see so many 
+fulfilled, that we justly and piously trust that the rest will also come to 
+pass. As for those who do not believe, and consequently do not 
+understand, that this is the way which leads straight to the vision of God 
+and to eternal fellowship with Him, according to the true predictions 
+and statements of the Holy Scriptures, they may storm at our position, 
+but they cannot storm it. 
+
+And therefore, in these ten books, though not meeting, I dare say, the 
+expectation of some, yet I have, as the true God and Lord has vouchsafed 
+to aid me, satisfied the desire of certain persons, by refuting the 
+objections of the ungodly, who prefer their own gods to the Founder of 
+the holy city, about which we undertook to speak. Of these ten books, 
+the first five were directed against those who think we should worship 
+the gods for the sake of the blessings of this life, and the second five 
+against those who think we should worship them for the sake of the life 
+which is to be after death. And now, in fulfilment of the promise I made 
+in the first book, I shall go on to say, as God shall aid me, what I think 
+needs to be said regarding the origin, history, and deserved ends of the 
+two cities, which, as already remarked, are in this world commingled 
+and implicated with one another. 
+
+
+1 Rom. i. 21. 
+2 Eph. vi. 5. 
+
+
+3 Namely, hatpeia. comp. Quæst. in Exod. 94; Quæst. in Gen. 21; Contra Faustum, 15. 9, etc. 
+
+
+4 Agricole, coloni, incole. 
+
+5 Virgil, Æneid, i. 12. 
+
+6 2 Chron. xxx. 9; Eccl. xi. 13; Judith vii. 20. 
+7 Ps. Ixxxii. 6. 
+
+8 John i. 6-9. 
+
+9 Ibid. 16. 
+
+
+10 Augustine here remarks, in a clause that cannot be given in English, that the word religio is 
+
+
+derived from religere.—So Cicero, De Nat. Deor. ii. 28. 
+11 Matt. xxii. 37-40. 
+
+12 ps, Ixxiii. 28. 
+
+13 Ex, xxii. 20. 
+
+14 ps, xvi. 2. 
+
+15 Ps. li. 16, 17. 
+
+16 Ps, 1. 12, 13. 
+
+17 Ps. 1. 14, 15. 
+
+18 Micah vi. 6-8. 
+
+19 Heb. xiii. 16. 
+
+20 Hos. vi. 6. 
+
+21 Matt. xxii. 40. 
+
+22 On the service rendered to the Church by this definition, see Waterland’s Works, v. 124. 
+23 Literally, a sacred action. 
+24 Ecclus. xxx. 24. 
+
+25 Rom. vi. 13. 
+
+26 Rom. xii. 1. 
+
+27 Rom. xii. 2. 
+
+28 Ps, lxxiii. 28. 
+
+29 Rom. xii. 3-6 
+
+30 Ps, Ixxxvii. 3. 
+
+31 Ex. xxii. 20. 
+
+32 Gen. xviii. 18. 
+
+
+33 Gen. xv. 17. In his Retractations, ii. 43, Augustine says that he should not have spoken of this 
+
+
+as miraculous, because it was an appearance seen in sleep. 
+34 Gen. xviii. 
+
+35 Goetia. 
+
+36 2 Cor. xi. 14. 
+
+37 Virgil, Georg. iv. 411. 
+
+38 Fx. xxxiii. 13. 
+
+39 Plotin. Ennead. III. ii. 13. 
+
+40 Matt. vi. 28-30. 
+
+41 Acts vii. 53. 
+
+42 Ennead. I. vi. 7. 
+
+43 Meaning, officious meddlers. 
+44 Pharsal. vi. 503. 
+
+45 Ps. lxxiii. 28. 
+
+46 Æneid, vii. 310. 
+
+47 Æneid, iii. 438, 439. 
+
+
+48 Teletis. 
+
+
+49 The Platonists of the Alexandrian and Athenian schools, from Plotinus to Proclus, are at one in 
+
+
+recognising in God three principles or hypostases: 1st, the One or the Good, which is the Father; 
+
+
+2d, the Intelligence or Word, which is the Son; 3d, the Soul, which is the universal principle of 
+
+
+life. But as to the nature and order of these hypostases, the Alexandrians are no longer at one 
+
+
+with the school of Athens. On the very subtle differences between the Trinity of Plotinus and that 
+of Porphyry, consult M. Jules Simon, ii. 110, and M. Vacherot, ii. 37.—SAISSET. 
+
+
+50 See below, c. 28 
+51 Ennead. v. 1. 
+
+52 John i. 14. 
+
+53 John vi. 60-64. 
+
+
+54John viii. 25; or “the beginning,” following a different reading from ours. 
+
+
+55 Ps, lxxiii. 28. 
+
+56 Ps, Ixxxiv. 2. 
+
+97 Matt. xxiii. 26. 
+58 Rom. viii. 24, 25. 
+
+
+59 See above, c. 
+
+
+60 Virgil, Eclog. iv. 13, 14. 
+
+61 Isa. xxix. 14. 
+
+62 1 Cor. i. 19-25. 
+
+63 According to another reading, “You might have seen it to be,” etc. 
+64 John i. 1-5. 
+
+65 John i. 14. 
+
+66 Comp. Euseb. Proep. Evan. xiii. 16. 
+
+67 Ennead. iii. 4. 2. 
+
+68 Aneid, vi. 750, 751. 
+
+69 Inductio. 
+
+70 Namely, under Diocletian and Maximian. 
+71 Gen. xxii. 18. 
+
+72 Gal. iii. 19. 
+
+73 Ps, Ixvii. 1, 2. 
+
+74 John xiv. 6. 
+
+79 Isa. ii. 2, 3. 
+
+
+76 Luke xxiv. 44-47. 
+
+
+BOOK ELEVENTH 
+
+
+ARGUMENT 
+
+
+HERE BEGINS THE SECOND PART! OF THIS WORK, WHICH TREATS OF THE ORIGIN, HISTORY, AND 
+DESTINIES OF THE TWO CITIES, THE EARTHLY AND THE HEAVENLY. IN THE FIRST PLACE, AUGUSTINE 
+SHOWS IN THIS BOOK HOW THE TWO CITIES WERE FORMED ORIGINALLY, BY THE SEPARATION OF THE 
+GOOD AND BAD ANGELS; AND TAKES OCCASION TO TREAT OF THE CREATION OF THE WORLD, AS IT IS 
+
+
+DESCRIBED IN HOLY SCRIPTURE IN THE BEGINNING OF THE BOOK OF GENESIS. 
+1. Of this part of the work, wherein we begin to explain the origin and end of the two cities 
+
+
+T he city of God we speak of is the same to which testimony is borne 
+by that Scripture, which excels all the writings of all nations by its 
+divine authority, and has brought under its influence all kinds of minds, 
+and this not by a casual intellectual movement, but obviously by an 
+express providential arrangement. For there it is written, “Glorious 
+things are spoken of thee, O city of God.”2 And in another psalm we 
+read, “Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised in the city of our God, 
+in the mountain of His holiness, increasing the joy of the whole earth.” 
+And, a little after, in the same psalm, “As we have heard, so have we 
+seen in the city of the Lord of hosts, in the city of our God. God has 
+established it for ever.” And in another, “There is a river the streams 
+whereof shall make glad the city of our God, the holy place of the 
+tabernacles of the Most High. God is in the midst of her, she shall not be 
+moved.”4 From these and similar testimonies, all of which it were 
+tedious to cite, we have learned that there is a city of God, and its 
+Founder has inspired us with a love which makes us covet its citizenship. 
+To this Founder of the holy city the citizens of the earthly city prefer 
+their own gods, not knowing that He is the God of gods, not of false, ie. 
+of impious and proud gods, who, being deprived of His unchangeable 
+and freely communicated light, and so reduced to a kind of poverty- 
+stricken power, eagerly grasp at their own private privileges, and seek 
+divine honours from their deluded subjects; but of the pious and holy 
+
+
+gods, who are better pleased to submit themselves to one, than to 
+subject many to themselves, and who would rather worship God than be 
+worshipped as God. But to the enemies of this city we have replied in 
+the ten preceding books, according to our ability and the help afforded 
+by our Lord and King. Now, recognising what is expected of me, and not 
+unmindful of my promise, and relying, too, on the same succour, I will 
+endeavour to treat of the origin, and progress, and deserved destinies of 
+the two cities (the earthly and the heavenly, to wit), which, as we said, 
+are in this present world commingled, and as it were entangled together. 
+And, first, I will explain how the foundations of these two cities were 
+originally laid, in the difference that arose among the angels. 
+
+
+2. Of the knowledge of God, to which no man can attain save through the Mediator between 
+
+
+God and men, the man Christ Jesus 
+
+
+It is a great and very rare thing for a man, after he has contemplated 
+the whole creation, corporeal and incorporeal, and has discerned its 
+mutability, to pass beyond it, and, by the continued soaring of his mind, 
+to attain to the unchangeable substance of God, and, in that height of 
+contemplation, to learn from God Himself that none but He has made all 
+that is not of the divine essence. For God speaks with a man not by 
+means of some audible creature dinning in his ears, so that atmospheric 
+vibrations connect Him that makes with him that hears the sound, nor 
+even by means of a spiritual being with the semblance of a body, such as 
+we see in dreams or similar states; for even in this case He speaks as if to 
+the ears of the body, because it is by means of the semblance of a body 
+He speaks, and with the appearance of a real interval of space—for 
+visions are exact representations of bodily objects. Not by these, then, 
+does God speak, but by the truth itself, if any one is prepared to hear 
+with the mind rather than with the body. For He speaks to that part of 
+man which is better than all else that is in him, and than which God 
+Himself alone is better. For since man is most properly understood (or, if 
+that cannot be, then, at least, believed) to be made in God’s image, no 
+doubt it is that part of him by which he rises above those lower parts he 
+has in common with the beasts, which brings him nearer to the Supreme. 
+But since the mind, itself, though naturally capable of reason and 
+intelligence, is disabled by besotting and inveterate vices not merely 
+from delighting and abiding in, but even from tolerating His 
+
+
+unchangeable light, until it has been gradually healed, and renewed, and 
+made capable of such felicity, it had, in the first place, to be 
+impregnated with faith, and so purified. And that in this faith it might 
+advance the more confidently towards the truth, the truth itself, God, 
+God’s Son, assuming humanity without destroying His divinity, 
+established and founded this faith, that there might be a way for man to 
+man’s God through a God-man. For this is the Mediator between God 
+and men, the man Christ Jesus. For it is as man that He is the Mediator 
+and the Way. Since, if the way lieth between him who goes, and the 
+place whither he goes, there is hope of his reaching it; but if there be no 
+way, or if he know not where it is, what boots it to know whither he 
+should go? Now the only way that is infallibly secured against all 
+mistakes, is when the very same person is at once God and man, God our 
+end, man our way.® 
+
+
+3. Of the authority of the canonical Scriptures composed by the Divine Spirit 
+
+
+This Mediator, having spoken what He judged sufficient, first by the 
+prophets, then by His own lips, and afterwards by the apostles, has 
+besides produced the Scripture which is called canonical, which has 
+paramount authority, and to which we yield assent in all matters of 
+which we ought not to be ignorant, and yet cannot know of ourselves. 
+For if we attain the knowledge of present objects by the testimony of our 
+own senses,” whether internal or external, then, regarding objects 
+remote from our own senses, we need others to bring their testimony, 
+since we cannot know them by our own, and we credit the persons to 
+whom the objects have been or are sensibly present. Accordingly, as in 
+the case of visible objects which we have not seen, we trust those who 
+have, (and likewise with all sensible objects,) so in the case of things 
+which are perceived’ by the mind and spirit, ie. which are remote from 
+our own interior sense, it behoves us to trust those who have seen them 
+set in that incorporeal light, or abidingly contemplate them. 
+
+
+4. That the world is neither without beginning, nor yet created by a new decree of God, by which 
+He afterwards willed what He had not before willed 
+
+
+Of all visible things, the world is the greatest; of all invisible, the 
+greatest is God. But, that the world is, we see; that God is, we believe. 
+That God made the world, we can believe from no one more safely than 
+
+
+from God Himself. But where have we heard Him? Nowhere more 
+distinctly than in the Holy Scriptures, where His prophet said, “In the 
+beginning God created the heavens and the earth.”2 Was the prophet 
+present when God made the heavens and the earth? No; but the wisdom 
+of God, by whom all things were made, was there,!9 and wisdom 
+insinuates itself into holy souls, and makes them the friends of God and 
+His prophets, and noiselessly informs them of His works. They are taught 
+also by the angels of God, who always behold the face of the Father,1!1 
+and announce His will to whom it befits. Of these prophets was he who 
+said and wrote, “In the beginning God created the heavens and the 
+earth.” And so fit a witness was he of God, that the same Spirit of God, 
+who revealed these things to him, enabled him also so long before to 
+predict that our faith also would be forthcoming. 
+
+But why did God choose then to create the heavens and earth which 
+up to that time He had not made?!2 If they who put this question wish to 
+make out that the world is eternal and without beginning, and that 
+consequently it has not been made by God, they are strangely deceived, 
+and rave in the incurable madness of impiety. For, though the voices of 
+the prophets were silent, the world itself, by its well-ordered changes 
+and movements, and by the fair appearance of all visible things, bears a 
+testimony of its own, both that it has been created, and also that it could 
+not have been created save by God, whose greatness and beauty are 
+unutterable and invisible. As for those!3 who own, indeed, that it was 
+made by God, and yet ascribe to it not a temporal but only a creational 
+beginning, so that in some scarcely intelligible way the world should 
+always have existed a created world, they make an assertion which 
+seems to them to defend God from the charge of arbitrary hastiness, or 
+of suddenly conceiving the idea of creating the world as a quite new 
+idea, or of casually changing His will, though He be unchangeable. But I 
+do not see how this supposition of theirs can stand in other respects, and 
+chiefly in respect of the soul; for if they contend that it is co-eternal with 
+God, they will be quite at a loss to explain whence there has accrued to 
+it new misery, which through a previous eternity had not existed. For if 
+they said that its happiness and misery ceaselessly alternate, they must 
+say, further, that this alternation will continue for ever; whence will 
+result this absurdity, that, though the soul is called blessed, it is not so in 
+this, that it foresees its own misery and disgrace. And yet, if it does not 
+
+
+foresee it, and supposes that it will be neither disgraced nor wretched, 
+but always blessed, then it is blessed because it is deceived; and a more 
+foolish statement one cannot make. But if their idea is that the soul’s 
+misery has alternated with its bliss during the ages of the past eternity, 
+but that now, when once the soul has been set free, it will return 
+henceforth no more to misery, they are nevertheless of opinion that it 
+has never been truly blessed before, but begins at last to enjoy a new 
+and uncertain happiness; that is to say, they must acknowledge that 
+some new thing, and that an important and signal thing, happens to the 
+soul which never in a whole past eternity happened it before. And if they 
+deny that God’s eternal purpose included this new experience of the 
+soul, they deny that He is the Author of its blessedness, which is 
+unspeakable impiety. If, on the other hand, they say that the future 
+blessedness of the soul is the result of a new decree of God, how will 
+they show that God is not chargeable with that mutability which 
+displeases them? Further, if they acknowledge that it was created in 
+time, but will never perish in time—that it has, like number,!4 a 
+beginning but no end—and that, therefore, having once made trial of 
+misery, and been delivered from it, it will never again return thereto, 
+they will certainly admit that this takes place without any violation of 
+the immutable counsel of God. Let them, then, in like manner believe 
+regarding the world that it too could be made in time, and yet that God, 
+in making it, did not alter His eternal design. 
+
+
+5. That we ought not to seek to comprehend the infinite ages of time before the world, nor the 
+
+
+infinite realms of space 
+
+
+Next, we must see what reply can be made to those who agree that 
+God is the Creator of the world, but have difficulties about the time of its 
+creation, and what reply, also, they can make to difficulties we might 
+raise about the place of its creation. For, as they demand why the world 
+was created then and no sooner, we may ask why it was created just 
+here where it is, and not elsewhere. For if they imagine infinite spaces of 
+time before the world, during which God could not have been idle, in 
+like manner they may conceive outside the world infinite realms of 
+space, in which, if any one says that the Omnipotent cannot hold His 
+hand from working, will it not follow that they must adopt Epicurus’ 
+dream of innumerable worlds? with this difference only, that he asserts 
+
+
+that they are formed and destroyed by the fortuitous movements of 
+atoms, while they will hold that they are made by God’s hand, if they 
+maintain that, throughout the boundless immensity of space, stretching 
+interminably in every direction round the world, God cannot rest, and 
+that the worlds which they suppose Him to make cannot be destroyed. 
+For here the question is with those who, with ourselves, believe that God 
+is spiritual, and the Creator of all existences but Himself. As for others, it 
+is a condescension to dispute with them on a religious question, for they 
+have acquired a reputation only among men who pay divine honours to 
+a number of gods, and have become conspicuous among the other 
+philosophers for no other reason than that, though they are still far from 
+the truth, they are near it in comparison with the rest. While these, then, 
+neither confine in any place, nor limit, nor distribute the divine 
+substance, but, as is worthy of God, own it to be wholly though 
+spiritually present everywhere, will they perchance say that this 
+substance is absent from such immense spaces outside the world, and is 
+occupied in one only, (and that a very little one compared with the 
+infinity beyond,) the one, namely, in which is the world? I think they 
+will not proceed to this absurdity. Since they maintain that there is but 
+one world, of vast material bulk, indeed, yet finite, and in its own 
+determinate position, and that this was made by the working of God, let 
+them give the same account of God’s resting in the infinite times before 
+the world as they give of His resting in the infinite spaces outside of it. 
+And as it does not follow that God set the world in the very spot it 
+occupies and no other by accident rather than by divine reason, 
+although no human reason can comprehend why it was so set, and 
+though there was no merit in the spot chosen to give it the precedence of 
+infinite others, so neither does it follow that we should suppose that God 
+was guided by chance when He created the world in that and no earlier 
+time, although previous times had been running by during an infinite 
+past, and though there was no difference by which one time could be 
+chosen in preference to another. But if they say that the thoughts of men 
+are idle when they conceive infinite places, since there is no place beside 
+the world, we reply that, by the same showing, it is vain to conceive of 
+the past times of God’s rest, since there is no time before the world. 
+
+
+6. That the world and time had both one beginning, and the one did not anticipate the other 
+
+
+For if eternity and time are rightly distinguished by this, that time 
+does not exist without some movement and transition, while in eternity 
+there is no change, who does not see that there could have been no time 
+had not some creature been made, which by some motion could give 
+birth to change—the various parts of which motion and change, as they 
+cannot be simultaneous, succeed one another—and thus, in these shorter 
+or longer intervals of duration, time would begin? Since then, God, in 
+whose eternity is no change at all, is the Creator and Ordainer of time, I 
+do not see how He can be said to have created the world after spaces of 
+time had elapsed, unless it be said that prior to the world there was 
+some creature by whose movement time could pass. And if the sacred 
+and infallible Scriptures say that in the beginning God created the 
+heavens and the earth, in order that it may be understood that He had 
+made nothing previously—for if He had made anything before the rest, 
+this thing would rather be said to have been made “in the beginning”— 
+then assuredly the world was made, not in time, but simultaneously with 
+time. For that which is made in time is made both after and before some 
+time—after that which is past, before that which is future. But none 
+could then be past, for there was no creature by whose movements its 
+duration could be measured. But simultaneously with time the world 
+was made, if in the world’s creation change and motion were created, as 
+seems evident from the order of the first six or seven days. For in these 
+days the morning and evening are counted, until, on the sixth day, all 
+things which God then made were finished, and on the seventh the rest 
+of God was mysteriously and sublimely signalized. What kind of days 
+these were it is extremely difficult, or perhaps impossible for us to 
+conceive, and how much more to say! 
+
+
+7. Of the nature of the first days, which are said to have had morning and evening, before there 
+was a sun 
+
+
+We see, indeed, that our ordinary days have no evening but by the 
+setting, and no morning but by the rising, of the sun; but the first three 
+days of all were passed without sun, since it is reported to have been 
+made on the fourth day. And first of all, indeed, light was made by the 
+word of God, and God, we read, separated it from the darkness, and 
+called the light Day, and the darkness Night; but what kind of light that 
+was, and by what periodic movement it made evening and morning, is 
+
+
+beyond the reach of our senses; neither can we understand how it was, 
+and yet must unhesitatingly believe it. For either it was some material 
+light, whether proceeding from the upper parts of the world, far 
+removed from our sight, or from the spot where the sun was afterwards 
+kindled; or under the name of light the holy city was signified, composed 
+of holy angels and blessed spirits, the city of which the apostle says, 
+“Jerusalem which is above is our eternal mother in heaven;”!5 and in 
+another place, “For ye are all the children of the light, and the children 
+of the day; we are not of the night, nor of darkness.”!© Yet in some 
+respects we may appropriately speak of a morning and evening of this 
+day also. For the knowledge of the creature is, in comparison of the 
+knowledge of the Creator, but a twilight; and so it dawns and breaks into 
+morning when the creature is drawn to the praise and love of the 
+Creator; and night never falls when the Creator is not forsaken through 
+love of the creature. In fine, Scripture, when it would recount those days 
+in order, never mentions the word night. It never says, “Night was,” but 
+“The evening and the morning were the first day.” So of the second and 
+the rest. And, indeed, the knowledge of created things contemplated by 
+themselves is, so to speak, more colourless than when they are seen in 
+the wisdom of God, as in the art by which they were made. Therefore 
+evening is a more suitable figure than night; and yet, as I said, morning 
+returns when the creature returns to the praise and love of the Creator. 
+When it does so in the knowledge of itself, that is the first day; when in 
+the knowledge of the firmament, which is the name given to the sky 
+between the waters above and those beneath, that is the second day; 
+when in the knowledge of the earth, and the sea, and all things that 
+grow out of the earth, that is the third day; when in the knowledge of 
+the greater and less luminaries, and all the stars, that is the fourth day; 
+when in the knowledge of all animals that swim in the waters and that 
+fly in the air, that is the fifth day; when in the knowledge of all animals 
+that live on the earth, and of man himself, that is the sixth day.1!” 
+
+
+8. What we are to understand of God’s resting on the seventh day, after the six days’ work 
+
+
+When it is said that God rested on the seventh day from all His works, 
+and hallowed it, we are not to conceive of this in a childish fashion, as if 
+work were a toil to God, who “spake and it was done”—spake by the 
+spiritual and eternal, not audible and transitory word. But God’s rest 
+
+
+signifies the rest of those who rest in God, as the joy of a house means 
+the joy of those in the house who rejoice, though not the house, but 
+something else, causes the joy. How much more intelligible is such 
+phraseology, then, if the house itself, by its own beauty, makes the 
+inhabitants joyful! For in this case we not only call it joyful by that 
+figure of speech in which the thing containing is used for the thing 
+contained (as when we say, “The theatres applaud,” “The meadows 
+low,” meaning that the men in the one applaud, and the oxen in the 
+other low), but also by that figure in which the cause is spoken of as if it 
+were the effect, as when a letter is said to be joyful, because it makes its 
+readers so. Most appropriately, therefore, the sacred narrative states that 
+God rested, meaning thereby that those rest who are in Him, and whom 
+He makes to rest. And this the prophetic narrative promises also to the 
+men to whom it speaks, and for whom it was written, that they 
+themselves, after those good works which God does in and by them, if 
+they have managed by faith to get near to God in this life, shall enjoy in 
+Him eternal rest. This was prefigured to the ancient people of God by the 
+rest enjoined in their sabbath law, of which, in its own place, I shall 
+speak more at large. 
+
+
+9. What the Scriptures teach us to believe concerning the creation of the angels 
+
+
+At present, since I have undertaken to treat of the origin of the holy 
+city, and first of the holy angels, who constitute a large part of this city, 
+and indeed the more blessed part, since they have never been 
+expatriated, I will give myself to the task of explaining, by God’s help, 
+and as far as seems suitable, the Scriptures which relate to this point. 
+Where Scripture speaks of the world’s creation, it is not plainly said 
+whether or when the angels were created; but if mention of them is 
+made, it is implicitly under the name of “heaven,” when it is said, “In 
+the beginning God created the heavens and the earth,” or perhaps rather 
+under the name of “light,” of which presently. But that they were wholly 
+omitted, I am unable to believe, because it is written that God on the 
+seventh day rested from all His works which He made; and this very 
+book itself begins, “In the beginning God created the heavens and the 
+earth,” so that before heaven and earth God seems to have made 
+nothing. Since, therefore, He began with the heavens and the earth—and 
+the earth itself, as Scripture adds, was at first invisible and formless, 
+
+
+light not being as yet made, and darkness covering the face of the deep 
+(that is to say, covering an undefined chaos of earth and sea, for where 
+light is not, darkness must needs be)—and then when all things, which 
+are recorded to have been completed in six days, were created and 
+arranged, how should the angels be omitted, as if they were not among 
+the works of God, from which on the seventh day He rested? Yet, though 
+the fact that the angels are the work of God is not omitted here, it is 
+indeed not explicitly mentioned; but elsewhere Holy Scripture asserts it 
+in the clearest manner. For in the Hymn of the Three Children in the 
+Furnace it was said, “O all ye works of the Lord, bless ye the Lord;”!8 
+and among these works mentioned afterwards in detail, the angels are 
+named. And in the psalm it is said, “Praise ye the Lord from the heavens, 
+praise Him in the heights. Praise ye Him, all His angels; praise ye Him, 
+all His hosts. Praise ye Him, sun and moon; praise Him, all ye stars of 
+light. Praise Him, ye heaven of heavens; and ye waters that be above the 
+heavens. Let them praise the name of the Lord; for He commanded, and 
+they were created.”!9 Here the angels are most expressly and by divine 
+authority said to have been made by God, for of them among the other 
+heavenly things it is said, “He commanded, and they were created.” 
+Who, then, will be bold enough to suggest that the angels were made 
+after the six days’ creation? If any one is so foolish, his folly is disposed 
+of by a scripture of like authority, where God says, “When the stars were 
+made, the angels praised me with a loud voice.”2° The angels therefore 
+existed before the stars; and the stars were made the fourth day. Shall 
+we then say that they were made the third day? Far from it; for we know 
+what was made that day. The earth was separated from the water, and 
+each element took its own distinct form, and the earth produced all that 
+grows on it. On the second day, then? Not even on this; for on it the 
+firmament was made between the waters above and beneath, and was 
+called “Heaven,” in which firmament the stars were made on the fourth 
+day. There is no question, then, that if the angels are included in the 
+works of God during these six days, they are that light which was called 
+“Day,” and whose unity Scripture signalizes by calling that day not the 
+“first day,” but “one day.”2! For the second day, the third, and the rest 
+are not other days; but the same “one” day is repeated to complete the 
+number six or seven, so that there should be knowledge both of God’s 
+works and of His rest. For when God said, “Let there be light, and there 
+
+
+was light,” if we are justified in understanding in this light the creation 
+of the angels, then certainly they were created partakers of the eternal 
+light which is the unchangeable Wisdom of God, by which all things 
+were made, and whom we call the only-begotten Son of God; so that 
+they, being illumined by the Light that created them, might themselves 
+become light and be called “Day,” in participation of that unchangeable 
+Light and Day which is the Word of God, by whom both themselves and 
+all else were made. “The true Light, which lighteth every man that 
+cometh into the world”22— this Light lighteth also every pure angel, that 
+he may be light not in himself, but in God; from whom if an angel turn 
+away, he becomes impure, as are all those who are called unclean 
+spirits, and are no longer light in the Lord, but darkness in themselves, 
+being deprived of the participation of Light eternal. For evil has no 
+positive nature; but the loss of good has received the name “evil.”23 
+
+
+10. Of the simple and unchangeable Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, one God, in whom 
+
+
+substance and quality are identical 
+
+
+There is, accordingly, a good which is alone simple, and therefore 
+alone unchangeable, and this is God. By this Good have all others been 
+created, but not simple, and therefore not unchangeable. “Created,” I say 
+—that is, made, not begotten. For that which is begotten of the simple 
+Good is simple as itself, and the same as itself. These two we call the 
+Father and the Son; and both together with the Holy Spirit are one God; 
+and to this Spirit the epithet Holy is in Scripture, as it were, 
+appropriated. And He is another than the Father and the Son, for He is 
+neither the Father nor the Son. I say “another,” not “another thing,” 
+because He is equally with them the simple Good, unchangeable and co- 
+eternal. And this Trinity is one God; and none the less simple because a 
+Trinity. For we do not say that the nature of the good is simple, because 
+the Father alone possesses it, or the Son alone, or the Holy Ghost alone; 
+nor do we say, with the Sabellian heretics, that it is only nominally a 
+Trinity, and has no real distinction of persons; but we say it is simple, 
+because it is what it has, with the exception of the relation of the 
+persons to one another. For, in regard to this relation, it is true that the 
+Father has a Son, and yet is not Himself the Son; and the Son has a 
+Father, and is not Himself the Father. But, as regards Himself, 
+irrespective of relation to the other, each is what He has; thus, He is in 
+
+
+Himself living, for He has life, and is Himself the Life which He has. 
+
+It is for this reason, then, that the nature of the Trinity is called 
+simple, because it has not anything which it can lose, and because it is 
+not one thing and its contents another, as a cup and the liquor, or a body 
+and its colour, or the air and the light or heat of it, or a mind and its 
+wisdom. For none of these is what it has: the cup is not liquor, nor the 
+body colour, nor the air light and heat, nor the mind wisdom. And hence 
+they can be deprived of what they have, and can be turned or changed 
+into other qualities and states, so that the cup may be emptied of the 
+liquid of which it is full, the body be discoloured, the air darken, the 
+mind grow silly. The incorruptible body which is promised to the saints 
+in the resurrection cannot, indeed, lose its quality of incorruption, but 
+the bodily substance and the quality of incorruption are not the same 
+thing. For the quality of incorruption resides entire in each several part, 
+not greater in one and less in another; for no part is more incorruptible 
+than another. The body, indeed, is itself greater in whole than in part; 
+and one part of it is larger, another smaller, yet is not the larger more 
+incorruptible than the smaller. The body, then, which is not in each of 
+its parts a whole body, is one thing; incorruptibility, which is throughout 
+complete, is another thing;—for every part of the incorruptible body, 
+however unequal to the rest otherwise, is equally incorrupt. For the 
+hand, e.g., is not more incorrupt than the finger because it is larger than 
+the finger; so, though finger and hand are unequal, their incorruptibility 
+is equal. Thus, although incorruptibility is inseparable from an 
+incorruptible body, yet the substance of the body is one thing, the 
+quality of incorruption another. And therefore the body is not what it 
+has. The soul itself, too, though it be always wise (as it will be eternally 
+when it is redeemed), will be so by participating in the unchangeable 
+wisdom, which it is not; for though the air be never robbed of the light 
+that is shed abroad in it, it is not on that account the same thing as the 
+light. I do not mean that the soul is air, as has been supposed by some 
+who could not conceive a_ spiritual nature;24 but, with much 
+dissimilarity, the two things have a kind of likeness, which makes it 
+suitable to say that the immaterial soul is illumined with the immaterial 
+light of the simple wisdom of God, as the material air is irradiated with 
+material light, and that, as the air, when deprived of this light, grows 
+dark, (for material darkness is nothing else than air wanting light,25) so 
+
+
+the soul, deprived of the light of wisdom, grows dark. 
+
+According to this, then, those things which are essentially and truly 
+divine are called simple, because in them quality and substance are 
+identical, and because they are divine, or wise, or blessed in themselves, 
+and without extraneous supplement. In Holy Scripture, it is true, the 
+Spirit of wisdom is called “manifold”2© because it contains many things 
+in it; but what it contains it also is, and it being one is all these things. 
+For neither are there many wisdoms, but one, in which are untold and 
+infinite treasures of things intellectual, wherein are all invisible and 
+unchangeable reasons of things visible and changeable which were 
+created by it.2” For God made nothing unwittingly; not even a human 
+workman can be said to do so. But if He knew all that He made, He 
+made only those things which He had known. Whence flows a very 
+striking but true conclusion, that this world could not be known to us 
+unless it existed, but could not have existed unless it had been known to 
+God. 
+
+
+11. Whether the angels that fell partook of the blessedness which the holy angels have always 
+
+
+enjoyed from the time of their creation 
+
+
+And since these things are so, those spirits whom we call angels were 
+never at any time or in any way darkness, but, as soon as they were 
+made, were made light; yet they were not so created in order that they 
+might exist and live in any way whatever, but were enlightened that 
+they might live wisely and blessedly. Some of them, having turned away 
+from this light, have not won this wise and blessed life, which is 
+certainly eternal, and accompanied with the sure confidence of its 
+eternity; but they have still the life of reason, though darkened with 
+folly, and this they cannot lose, even if they would. But who can 
+determine to what extent they were partakers of that wisdom before 
+they fell? And how shall we say that they participated in it equally with 
+those who through it are truly and fully blessed, resting in a true 
+certainty of eternal felicity? For if they had equally participated in this 
+true knowledge, then the evil angels would have remained eternally 
+blessed equally with the good, because they were equally expectant of it. 
+For, though a life be never so long, it cannot be truly called eternal if it 
+is destined to have an end; for it is called life inasmuch as it is lived, but 
+eternal because it has no end. Wherefore, although everything eternal is 
+
+
+not therefore blessed (for hell-fire is eternal), yet if no life can be truly 
+and perfectly blessed except it be eternal, the life of these angels was not 
+blessed, for it was doomed to end, and therefore not eternal, whether 
+they knew it or not. In the one case fear, in the other ignorance, 
+prevented them from being blessed. And even if their ignorance was not 
+so great as to breed in them a wholly false expectation, but left them 
+wavering in uncertainty whether their good would be eternal or would 
+some time terminate, this very doubt concerning so grand a destiny was 
+incompatible with the plenitude of blessedness which we believe the 
+holy angels enjoyed. For we do not so narrow and restrict the 
+application of the term “blessedness” as to apply it to God only,28 
+though doubtless He is so truly blessed that greater blessedness cannot 
+be; and, in comparison of His blessedness, what is that of the angels, 
+though, according to their capacity, they be perfectly blessed? 
+
+
+12. A comparison of the blessedness of the righteous, who have not yet received the divine 
+
+
+reward, with that of our first parents in paradise 
+
+
+And the angels are not the only members of the rational and 
+intellectual creation whom we call blessed. For who will take upon him 
+to deny that those first men in Paradise were blessed previously to sin, 
+although they were uncertain how long their blessedness was to last, and 
+whether it would be eternal (and eternal it would have been had they 
+not sinned)—who, I say, will do so, seeing that even now we not 
+unbecomingly call those blessed whom we see leading a righteous and 
+holy life in hope of immortality, who have no harrowing remorse of 
+conscience, but obtain readily divine remission of the sins of their 
+present infirmity? These, though they are certain that they shall be 
+rewarded if they persevere, are not certain that they will persevere. For 
+what man can know that he will persevere to the end in the exercise and 
+increase of grace, unless he has been certified by some revelation from 
+Him who, in His just and secret judgment, while He deceives none, 
+informs few regarding this matter? Accordingly, so far as present 
+comfort goes, the first man in Paradise was more blessed than any just 
+man in this insecure state; but as regards the hope of future good, every 
+man who not merely supposes, but certainly knows that he shall 
+eternally enjoy the most high God in the company of angels, and beyond 
+the reach of ill—this man, no matter what bodily torments afflict him, is 
+
+
+more blessed than was he who, even in that great felicity of Paradise, 
+was uncertain of his fate.29 
+
+
+13. Whether all the angels were so created in one common state of felicity, that those who fell were 
+not aware that they would fall, and that those who stood received assurance of their own 
+
+
+perseverance after the ruin of the fallen 
+
+
+From all this, it will readily occur to any one that the blessedness 
+which an intelligent being desires as its legitimate object results from a 
+combination of these two things, namely, that it uninterruptedly enjoy 
+the unchangeable good, which is God; and that it be delivered from all 
+dubiety, and know certainly that it shall eternally abide in the same 
+enjoyment. That it is so with the angels of light we piously believe; but 
+that the fallen angels, who by their own default lost that light, did not 
+enjoy this blessedness even before they sinned, reason bids us conclude. 
+Yet if their life was of any duration before they fell, we must allow them 
+a blessedness of some kind, though not that which is accompanied with 
+foresight. Or, if it seems hard to believe that, when the angels were 
+created, some were created in ignorance either of their perseverance or 
+their fall, while others were most certainly assured of the eternity of 
+their felicity—if it is hard to believe that they were not all from the 
+beginning on an equal footing, until these who are now evil did of their 
+own will fall away from the light of goodness, certainly it is much harder 
+to believe that the holy angels are now uncertain of their eternal 
+blessedness, and do not know regarding themselves as much as we have 
+been able to gather regarding them from the Holy Scriptures. For what 
+catholic Christian does not know that no new devil will ever arise among 
+the good angels, as he knows that this present devil will never again 
+return into the fellowship of the good? For the truth in the gospel 
+promises to the saints and the faithful that they will be equal to the 
+angels of God; and it is also promised them that they will “go away into 
+life eternal.”30 But if we are certain that we shall never lapse from 
+eternal felicity, while they are not certain, then we shall not be their 
+equals, but their superiors. But as the truth never deceives, and as we 
+shall be their equals, they must be certain of their blessedness. And 
+because the evil angels could not be certain of that, since their 
+blessedness was destined to come to an end, it follows either that the 
+angels were unequal, or that, if equal, the good angels were assured of 
+
+
+the eternity of their blessedness after the perdition of the others; unless, 
+possibly, some one may say that the words of the Lord about the devil, 
+“He was a murderer from the beginning, and abode not in the truth,”3! 
+are to be understood as if he was not only a murderer from the 
+beginning of the human race, when man, whom he could kill by his 
+deceit, was made, but also that he did not abide in the truth from the 
+time of his own creation, and was accordingly never blessed with the 
+holy angels, but refused to submit to his Creator, and proudly exulted as 
+if in a private lordship of his own, and was thus deceived and deceiving. 
+For the dominion of the Almighty cannot be eluded; and he who will not 
+piously submit himself to things as they are, proudly feigns, and mocks 
+himself with a state of things that does not exist; so that what the 
+blessed Apostle John says thus becomes intelligible: “The devil sinneth 
+from the beginning”32—that is, from the time he was created he refused 
+righteousness which none but a will piously subject to God can enjoy. 
+Whoever adopts this opinion at least disagrees with those heretics the 
+Manichees, and with any other pestilential sect that may suppose that 
+the devil has derived from some adverse evil principle a nature proper to 
+himself. These persons are so befooled by error, that, although they 
+acknowledge with ourselves the authority of the gospels, they do not 
+notice that the Lord did not say, “The devil was naturally a stranger to 
+the truth,” but “The devil abode not in the truth,” by which He meant us 
+to understand that he had fallen from the truth, in which, if he had 
+abode, he would have become a partaker of it, and have remained in 
+blessedness along with the holy angels.33 
+
+
+14. An explanation of what is said of the devil, that he did not abide in the truth, because the 
+
+
+truth was not in him 
+
+
+Moreover, as if we had been inquiring why the devil did not abide in 
+the truth, our Lord subjoins the reason, saying, “because the truth is not 
+in him.” Now, it would be in him had he abode in it. But the 
+phraseology is unusual. For, as the words stand, “He abode not in the 
+truth, because the truth is not in him,” it seems as if the truth’s not being 
+in him were the cause of his not abiding in it; whereas his not abiding in 
+the truth is rather the cause of its not being in him. The same form of 
+speech is found in the psalm: “I have called upon Thee, for Thou hast 
+heard me, O God,”34 where we should expect it to be said, Thou hast 
+
+
+heard me, O God, for I have called upon Thee. But when he had said, “I 
+have called,” then, as if some one were seeking proof of this, he 
+demonstrates the effectual earnestness of his prayer by the effect of 
+God’s hearing it; as if he had said, The proof that I have prayed is that 
+Thou hast heard me. 
+
+
+15. How we are to understand the words, “The devil sinneth from the beginning” 
+
+
+As for what John says about the devil, “The devil sinneth from the 
+beginning,”35 they36 who suppose it is meant hereby that the devil was 
+made with a sinful nature, misunderstand it; for if sin be natural, it is 
+not sin at all. And how do they answer the prophetic proofs—either 
+what Isaiah says when he represents the devil under the person of the 
+king of Babylon, “How art thou fallen, O Lucifer, son of the morning!”37 
+or what Ezekiel says, “Thou hast been in Eden, the garden of God; every 
+precious stone was thy covering,”38 where it is meant that he was some 
+time without sin; for a little after it is still more explicitly said, “Thou 
+wast perfect in thy ways?” And if these passages cannot well be 
+otherwise interpreted, we must understand by this one also, “He abode 
+not in the truth,” that he was once in the truth, but did not remain in it. 
+And from this passage, “The devil sinneth from the beginning,” it is not 
+to be supposed that he sinned from the beginning of his created 
+existence, but from the beginning of his sin, when by his pride he had 
+once commenced to sin. There is a passage, too, in the Book of Job, of 
+which the devil is the subject: “This is the beginning of the creation of 
+God, which He made to be a sport to His angels,”39 which agrees with 
+the psalm, where it is said, “There is that dragon which Thou hast made 
+to be a sport therein.”49 But these passages are not to lead us to suppose 
+that the devil was originally created to be the sport of the angels, but 
+that he was doomed to this punishment after his sin. His beginning, 
+then, is the handiwork of God; for there is no nature, even among the 
+least, and lowest, and last of the beasts, which was not the work of Him 
+from whom has proceeded all measure, all form, all order, without 
+which nothing can be planned or conceived. How much more, then, is 
+this angelic nature, which surpasses in dignity all else that He has made, 
+the handiwork of the Most High! 
+
+
+16. Of the ranks and differences of the creatures, estimated by their utility, or according to the 
+natural gradations of being 
+
+
+For, among those beings which exist, and which are not of God the 
+Creator’s essence, those which have life are ranked above those which 
+have none; those that have the power of generation, or even of desiring 
+above those which want this faculty. And, among things that have life, 
+the sentient are higher than those which have no sensation, as animals 
+are ranked above trees. And, among the sentient, the intelligent are 
+above those that have not intelligence—men, e.g., above cattle. And, 
+among the intelligent, the immortal, such as the angels, above the 
+mortal, such as men. These are the gradations according to the order of 
+nature; but according to the utility each man finds in a thing, there are 
+various standards of value, so that it comes to pass that we prefer some 
+things that have no sensation to some sentient beings. And so strong is 
+this preference, that, had we the power, we would abolish the latter 
+from nature altogether, whether in ignorance of the place they hold in 
+nature, or, though we know it, sacrificing them to our own convenience. 
+Who, e.g., would not rather have bread in his house than mice, gold than 
+fleas? But there is little to wonder at in this, seeing that even when 
+valued by men themselves (whose nature is certainly of the highest 
+dignity), more is often given for a horse than for a slave, for a jewel than 
+for a maid. Thus the reason of one contemplating nature prompts very 
+different judgments from those dictated by the necessity of the needy, or 
+the desire of the voluptuous; for the former considers what value a thing 
+in itself has in the scale of creation, while necessity considers how it 
+meets its need; reason looks for what the mental light will judge to be 
+true, while pleasure looks for what pleasantly titillates the bodily sense. 
+But of such consequence in rational natures is the weight, so to speak, of 
+will and of love, that though in the order of nature angels rank above 
+men, yet, by the scale of justice, good men are of greater value than bad 
+angels. 
+
+
+17. That the flow of wickedness is not nature, but contrary to nature, and has its origin, not in 
+the Creator, but in the will 
+
+
+It is with reference to the nature, then, and not to the wickedness of 
+the devil, that we are to understand these words, “This is the beginning 
+of God’s handiwork;’”4!1 for, without doubt, wickedness can be a flaw or 
+vice#2 only where the nature previously was not vitiated. Vice, too, is so 
+contrary to nature, that it cannot but damage it. And therefore departure 
+
+
+from God would be no vice, unless in a nature whose property it was to 
+abide with God. So that even the wicked will is a strong proof of the 
+goodness of the nature. But God, as He is the supremely good Creator of 
+good natures, so is He of evil wills the most just Ruler; so that, while 
+they make an ill use of good natures, He makes a good use even of evil 
+wills. Accordingly, He caused the devil (good by God’s creation, wicked 
+by his own will) to be cast down from his high position, and to become 
+the mockery of His angels—that is, He caused his temptations to benefit 
+those whom he wishes to injure by them. And because God, when He 
+created him, was certainly not ignorant of his future malignity, and 
+foresaw the good which He Himself would bring out of his evil, therefore 
+says the psalm, “This leviathan whom Thou hast made to be a sport 
+therein,”*3 that we may see that, even while God in His goodness created 
+him good, He yet had already foreseen and arranged how He would 
+make use of him when he became wicked. 
+
+
+18. Of the beauty of the universe, which becomes, by God’s ordinance, more brilliant by the 
+
+
+opposition of contraries 
+
+
+For God would never have created any, I do not say angel, but even 
+man, whose future wickedness He foreknew, unless He had equally 
+known to what uses in behalf of the good He could turn him, thus 
+embellishing the course of the ages, as it were an exquisite poem set off 
+with antitheses. For what are called antitheses are among the most 
+elegant of the ornaments of speech. They might be called in Latin 
+“oppositions,” or, to speak more accurately, “contrapositions;” but this 
+word is not in common use among us,*4 though the Latin, and indeed 
+the languages of all nations, avail themselves of the same ornaments of 
+style. In the Second Epistle to the Corinthians the Apostle Paul also 
+makes a graceful use of antithesis, in that place where he says, “By the 
+armour of righteousness on the right hand and on the left, by honour 
+and dishonour, by evil report and good report: as deceivers, and yet true; 
+as unknown, and yet well known; as dying, and, behold, we live; as 
+chastened, and not killed; as sorrowful, yet alway rejoicing; as poor, yet 
+making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing all things.”45 
+As, then, these oppositions of contraries lend beauty to the language, so 
+the beauty of the course of this world is achieved by the opposition of 
+contraries, arranged, as it were, by an eloquence not of words, but of 
+
+
+things. This is quite plainly stated in the Book of Ecclesiasticus, in this 
+way: “Good is set against evil, and life against death: so is the sinner 
+against the godly. So look upon all the works of the Most High, and 
+these are two and two, one against another.”46 
+
+
+19. What, seemingly, we are to understand by the words, “God divided the light from the 
+darkness” 
+
+
+Accordingly, though the obscurity of the divine word has certainly this 
+advantage, that it causes many opinions about the truth to be started 
+and discussed, each reader seeing some fresh meaning in it, yet, 
+whatever is said to be meant by an obscure passage should be either 
+confirmed by the testimony of obvious facts, or should be asserted in 
+other and less ambiguous texts. This obscurity is beneficial, whether the 
+sense of the author is at last reached after the discussion of many other 
+interpretations, or whether, though that sense remain concealed, other 
+truths are brought out by the discussion of the obscurity. To me it does 
+not seem incongruous with the working of God, if we understand that 
+the angels were created when that first light was made, and that a 
+separation was made between the holy and the unclean angels, when, as 
+is said, “God divided the light from the darkness; and God called the 
+light Day, and the darkness He called Night.” For He alone could make 
+this discrimination, who was able also, before they fell, to foreknow that 
+they would fall, and that, being deprived of the light of truth, they 
+would abide in the darkness of pride. For, so far as regards the day and 
+night, with which we are familiar, He commanded those luminaries of 
+heaven that are obvious to our senses to divide between the light and 
+the darkness. “Let there be,” He says, “lights in the firmament of the 
+heaven, to divide the day from the night;” and shortly after He says, 
+“And God made two great lights; the greater light to rule the day, and 
+the lesser light to rule the night: the stars also. And God set them in the 
+firmament of the heaven, to give light upon the earth, and to rule over 
+the day and over the night, and to divide the light from the darkness.”47 
+But between that light, which is the holy company of the angels 
+spiritually radiant with the illumination of the truth, and that opposing 
+darkness, which is the noisome foulness of the spiritual condition of 
+those angels who are turned away from the light of righteousness, only 
+He Himself could divide, from whom their wickedness (not of nature, 
+
+
+but of will), while yet it was future, could not be hidden or uncertain. 
+
+
+20. Of the words which follow the separation of light and darkness, “And God saw the light that 
+
+
+it was good” 
+
+
+Then, we must not pass from this passage of Scripture without 
+noticing that when God said, “Let there be light, and there was light,” it 
+was immediately added, “And God saw the light that it was good.” No 
+such expression followed the statement that He separated the light from 
+the darkness, and called the light Day and the darkness Night, lest the 
+seal of His approval might seem to be set on such darkness, as well as on 
+the light. For when the darkness was not subject of disapprobation, as 
+when it was divided by the heavenly bodies from this light which our 
+eyes discern, the statement that God saw that it was good is inserted, not 
+before, but after the division is recorded. “And God set them,” so runs 
+the passage, “in the firmament of the heaven, to give light upon the 
+earth, and to rule over the day and over the night, and to divide the light 
+from the darkness: and God saw that it was good.” For He approved of 
+both, because both were sinless. But where God said, “Let there be light, 
+and there was light; and God saw the light that it was good;” and the 
+narrative goes on, “and God divided the light from the darkness: and 
+God called the light Day, and the darkness He called Night,” there was 
+not in this place subjoined the statement, “And God saw that it was 
+good,” lest both should be designated good, while one of them was evil, 
+not by nature, but by its own fault. And therefore, in this case, the light 
+alone received the approbation of the Creator, while the angelic 
+darkness, though it had been ordained, was yet not approved. 
+
+
+21. Of God’s eternal and unchangeable knowledge and will, whereby all He has made pleased Him 
+
+
+in the eternal design as well as in the actual result 
+
+
+For what else is to be understood by that invariable refrain, “And God 
+saw that it was good,” than the approval of the work in its design, which 
+is the wisdom of God? For certainly God did not in the actual 
+achievement of the work first learn that it was good, but, on the 
+contrary, nothing would have been made had it not been first known by 
+Him. While, therefore, He sees that that is good which, had He not seen 
+it before it was made, would never have been made, it is plain that He is 
+not discovering, but teaching that it is good. Plato, indeed, was bold 
+
+
+enough to say that, when the universe was completed, God was, as it 
+were, elated with joy.48 And Plato was not so foolish as to mean by this 
+that God was rendered more blessed by the novelty of His creation; but 
+he wished thus to indicate that the work now completed met with its 
+Maker’s approval, as it had while yet in design. It is not as if the 
+knowledge of God were of various kinds, knowing in different ways 
+things which as yet are not, things which are, and things which have 
+been. For not in our fashion does He look forward to what is future, nor 
+at what is present, nor back upon what is past; but in a manner quite 
+different and far and profoundly remote from our way of thinking. For 
+He does not pass from this to that by transition of thought, but beholds 
+all things with absolute unchangeableness; so that of those things which 
+emerge in time, the future, indeed, are not yet, and the present are now, 
+and the past no longer are; but all of these are by Him comprehended in 
+His stable and eternal presence. Neither does He see in one fashion by 
+the eye, in another by the mind, for He is not composed of mind and 
+body; nor does His present knowledge differ from that which it ever was 
+or shall be, for those variations of time, past, present, and future, though 
+they alter our knowledge, do not affect His, “with whom is no 
+variableness, neither shadow of turning.”49 Neither is there any growth 
+from thought to thought in the conceptions of Him in whose spiritual 
+vision all things which He knows are at once embraced. For as without 
+any movement that time can measure, He Himself moves all temporal 
+things, so He knows all times with a knowledge that time cannot 
+measure. And therefore He saw that what He had made was good, when 
+He saw that it was good to make it. And when He saw it made, He had 
+not on that account a twofold nor any way increased knowledge of it; as 
+if He had less knowledge before He made what He saw. For certainly He 
+would not be the perfect worker He is, unless His knowledge were so 
+perfect as to receive no addition from His finished works. Wherefore, if 
+the only object had been to inform us who made the light, it had been 
+enough to say, “God made the light;” and if further information 
+regarding the means by which it was made had been intended, it would 
+have sufficed to say, “And God said, Let there be light, and there was 
+light,” that we might know not only that God had made the world, but 
+also that He had made it by the word. But because it was right that three 
+leading truths regarding the creature be intimated to us, viz., who made 
+
+
+it, by what means, and why, it is written, “God said, Let there be light, 
+and there was light. And God saw the light that it was good.” If, then, 
+we ask who made it, it was “God.” If, by what means, He said “Let it 
+be,” and it was. If we ask, why He made it, “it was good.” Neither is 
+there any author more excellent than God, nor any skill more efficacious 
+than the word of God, nor any cause better than that good might be 
+created by the good God. This also Plato has assigned as the most 
+sufficient reason for the creation of the world, that good works might be 
+made by a good God;5° whether he read this passage, or, perhaps, was 
+informed of these things by those who had read them, or, by his quick- 
+sighted genius, penetrated to things spiritual and invisible through the 
+things that are created, or was instructed regarding them by those who 
+had discerned them. 
+
+
+22. Of those who do not approve of certain things which are a part of this good creation of a good 
+Creator, and who think that there is some natural evil 
+
+
+This cause, however, of a good creation, namely, the goodness of God 
+—this cause, I say, so just and fit, which, when piously and carefully 
+weighed, terminates all the controversies of those who inquire into the 
+origin of the world, has not been recognised by some heretics,5! because 
+there are, forsooth, many things, such as fire, frost, wild beasts, and so 
+forth, which do not suit but injure this thin-blooded and frail mortality 
+of our flesh, which is at present under just punishment. They do not 
+consider how admirable these things are in their own places, how 
+excellent in their own natures, how beautifully adjusted to the rest of 
+creation, and how much grace they contribute to the universe by their 
+own contributions as to a commonwealth; and how serviceable they are 
+even to ourselves, if we use them with a knowledge of their fit 
+adaptations—so that even poisons, which are destructive when used 
+injudiciously, become wholesome and medicinal when used in 
+conformity with their qualities and design; just as, on the other hand, 
+those things which give us pleasure, such as food, drink, and the light of 
+the sun, are found to be hurtful when immoderately or unseasonably 
+used. And thus divine providence admonishes us not foolishly to 
+vituperate things, but to investigate their utility with care; and, where 
+our mental capacity or infirmity is at fault, to believe that there is a 
+utility, though hidden, as we have experienced that there were other 
+
+
+things which we all but failed to discover. For this concealment of the 
+use of things is itself either an exercise of our humility or a levelling of 
+our pride; for no nature at all is evil, and this is a name for nothing but 
+the want of good. But from things earthly to things heavenly, from the 
+visible to the invisible, there are some things better than others; and for 
+this purpose are they unequal, in order that they might all exist. Now 
+God is in such sort a great worker in great things, that He is not less in 
+little things—for these little things are to be measured not by their own 
+greatness (which does not exist), but by the wisdom of their Designer; 
+as, in the visible appearance of a man, if one eyebrow be shaved off, 
+how nearly nothing is taken from the body, but how much from the 
+beauty!—for that is not constituted by bulk, but by the proportion and 
+arrangement of the members. But we do not greatly wonder that 
+persons, who suppose that some evil nature has been generated and 
+propagated by a kind of opposing principle proper to it, refuse to admit 
+that the cause of the creation was this, that the good God produced a 
+good creation. For they believe that He was driven to this enterprise of 
+creation by the urgent necessity of repulsing the evil that warred against 
+Him, and that He mixed His good nature with the evil for the sake of 
+restraining and conquering it; and that this nature of His, being thus 
+shamefully polluted, and most cruelly oppressed and held captive, He 
+labours to cleanse and deliver it, and with all His pains does not wholly 
+succeed; but such part of it as could not be cleansed from that 
+defilement is to serve as a prison and chain of the conquered and 
+incarcerated enemy. The Manichzans would not drivel, or rather, rave 
+in such a style as this, if they believed the nature of God to be, as it is, 
+unchangeable and absolutely incorruptible, and subject to no injury; and 
+if, moreover, they held in Christian sobriety, that the soul which has 
+shown itself capable of being altered for the worse by its own will, and 
+of being corrupted by sin, and so, of being deprived of the light of 
+eternal truth—that this soul, I say, is not a part of God, nor of the same 
+nature as God, but is created by Him, and is far different from its 
+Creator. 
+
+
+23. Of the error in which the doctrine of Origen is involved 
+
+
+But it is much more surprising that some even of those who, with 
+ourselves, believe that there is one only source of all things, and that no 
+
+
+nature which is not divine can exist unless originated by that Creator, 
+have yet refused to accept with a good and simple faith this so good and 
+simple a reason of the world’s creation, that a good God made it good; 
+and that the things created, being different from God, were inferior to 
+Him, and yet were good, being created by none other than He. But they 
+say that souls, though not, indeed, parts of God, but created by Him, 
+sinned by abandoning God; that, in proportion to their various sins, they 
+merited different degrees of debasement from heaven to earth, and 
+diverse bodies as prison-houses; and that this is the world, and this the 
+cause of its creation, not the production of good things, but the 
+restraining of evil. Origen is justly blamed for holding this opinion. For 
+in the books which he entitles *¢p! 4px, that is, Of origins, this is his 
+sentiment, this his utterance. And I cannot sufficiently express my 
+astonishment, that a man so erudite and well versed in ecclesiastical 
+literature, should not have observed, in the first place, how opposed this 
+is to the meaning of this authoritative Scripture, which, in recounting all 
+the works of God, regularly adds, “And God saw that it was good;” and, 
+when all were completed, inserts the words, “And God saw everything 
+that He had made, and, behold, it was very good.”52 Was it not 
+obviously meant to be understood that there was no other cause of the 
+world’s creation than that good creatures should be made by a good 
+God? In this creation, had no one sinned, the world would have been 
+filled and beautified with natures good without exception; and though 
+there is sin, all things are not therefore full of sin, for the great majority 
+of the heavenly inhabitants preserve their nature’s integrity. And the 
+sinful will, though it violated the order of its own nature, did not on that 
+account escape the laws of God, who justly orders all things for good. 
+For as the beauty of a picture is increased by well-managed shadows, so, 
+to the eye that has skill to discern it, the universe is beautified even by 
+sinners, though, considered by themselves, their deformity is a sad 
+blemish. 
+
+In the second place, Origen, and all who think with him, ought to 
+have seen that if it were the true opinion that the world was created in 
+order that souls might, for their sins, be accommodated with bodies in 
+which they should be shut up as in houses of correction, the more venial 
+sinners receiving lighter and more ethereal bodies, while the grosser and 
+graver sinners received bodies more crass and grovelling, then it would 
+
+
+follow that the devils, who are deepest in wickedness, ought, rather than 
+even wicked men, to have earthly bodies, since these are the grossest 
+and least ethereal of all. But in point of fact, that we might see that the 
+deserts of souls are not to be estimated by the qualities of bodies, the 
+wickedest devil possesses an ethereal body, while man, wicked, it is true, 
+but with a wickedness small and venial in comparison with his, received 
+even before his sin a body of clay. And what more foolish assertion can 
+be advanced than that God, by this sun of ours, did not design to benefit 
+the material creation, or lend lustre to its loveliness, and therefore 
+created one single sun for this single world, but that it so happened that 
+one soul only had so sinned as to deserve to be enclosed in such a body 
+as it is? On this principle, if it had chanced that not one, but two, yea, or 
+ten, or a hundred had sinned similarly, and with a like degree of guilt, 
+then this world would have one hundred suns. And that such is not the 
+case, is due not to the considerate foresight of the Creator, contriving the 
+safety and beauty of things material, but rather to the fact that so fine a 
+quality of sinning was hit upon by only one soul, so that it alone has 
+merited such a body. Manifestly persons holding such opinions should 
+aim at confining, not souls of which they know not what they say, but 
+themselves, lest they fall, and deservedly, far indeed from the truth. And 
+as to these three answers which I formerly recommended when in the 
+case of any creature the questions are put, Who made it? By what 
+means? Why? that it should be replied, God, By the Word, Because it 
+was good—as to these three answers, it is very questionable whether the 
+Trinity itself is thus mystically indicated, that is, the Father, the Son, and 
+the Holy Ghost, or whether there is some good reason for this 
+acceptation in this passage of Scripture—this, I say, is questionable, and 
+one can’t be expected to explain everything in one volume. 
+
+
+24. Of the divine Trinity, and the indications of its presence scattered everywhere among its 
+
+
+works 
+
+
+We believe, we maintain, we faithfully preach, that the Father begat 
+the Word, that is, Wisdom, by which all things were made, the only- 
+begotten Son, one as the Father is one, eternal as the Father is eternal, 
+and, equally with the Father, supremely good; and that the Holy Spirit is 
+the Spirit alike of Father and of Son, and is Himself consubstantial and 
+co-eternal with both; and that this whole is a Trinity by reason of the 
+
+
+individuality53 of the persons, and one God by reason of the indivisible 
+divine substance, as also one Almighty by reason of the indivisible 
+omnipotence; yet so that, when we inquire regarding each singly, it is 
+said that each is God and Almighty; and, when we speak of all together, 
+it is said that there are not three Gods, nor three Almighties, but one 
+God Almighty; so great is the indivisible unity of these Three, which 
+requires that it be so stated. But, whether the Holy Spirit of the Father, 
+and of the Son, who are both good, can be with propriety called the 
+goodness of both, because He is common to both, I do not presume to 
+determine hastily. Nevertheless, I would have less hesitation in saying 
+that He is the holiness of both, not as if He were a divine attribute 
+merely, but Himself also the divine substance, and the third person in 
+the Trinity. I am the rather emboldened to make this statement, because, 
+though the Father is a spirit, and the Son a spirit, and the Father holy, 
+and the Son holy, yet the third person is distinctively called the Holy 
+Spirit, as if He were the substantial holiness consubstantial with the 
+other two. But if the divine goodness is nothing else than the divine 
+holiness, then certainly it is a reasonable studiousness, and not 
+presumptuous intrusion, to inquire whether the same Trinity be not 
+hinted at in an enigmatical mode of speech, by which our inquiry is 
+stimulated, when it is written who made each creature, and by what 
+means, and why. For it is the Father of the Word who said, Let there be. 
+And that which was made when He spoke was certainly made by means 
+of the Word. And by the words, “God saw that it was good,” it is 
+sufficiently intimated that God made what was made not from any 
+necessity, nor for the sake of supplying any want, but solely from His 
+own goodness, ie., because it was good. And this is stated after the 
+creation had taken place, that there might be no doubt that the thing 
+made satisfied the goodness on account of which it was made. And if we 
+are right in understanding that this goodness is the Holy Spirit, then the 
+whole Trinity is revealed to us in the creation. In this, too, is the origin, 
+the enlightenment, the blessedness of the holy city which is above 
+among the holy angels. For if we inquire whence it is, God created it; or 
+whence its wisdom, God illumined it; or whence its blessedness, God is 
+its bliss. It has its form by subsisting in Him; its enlightenment by 
+contemplating Him; its joy by abiding in Him. It is; it sees; it loves. In 
+God’s eternity is its life; in God’s truth its light; in God’s goodness its joy. 
+
+
+25. Of the division of philosophy into three parts 
+
+
+As far as one can judge, it is for the same reason that philosophers 
+have aimed at a threefold division of science, or rather, were enabled to 
+see that there was a threefold division (for they did not invent, but only 
+discovered it), of which one part is called physical, another logical, the 
+third ethical. The Latin equivalents of these names are now naturalized 
+in the writings of many authors, so that these divisions are called 
+natural, rational, and moral, on which I have touched slightly in the 
+eighth book. Not that I would conclude that these philosophers, in this 
+threefold division, had any thought of a trinity in God, although Plato is 
+said to have been the first to discover and promulgate this distribution, 
+and he saw that God alone could be the author of nature, the bestower 
+of intelligence, and the kindler of love by which life becomes good and 
+blessed. But certain it is that, though philosophers disagree both 
+regarding the nature of things, and the mode of investigating truth, and 
+of the good to which all our actions ought to tend, yet in these three 
+great general questions all their intellectual energy is spent. And though 
+there be a confusing diversity of opinion, every man striving to establish 
+his own opinion in regard to each of these questions, yet no one of them 
+all doubts that nature has some cause, science some method, life some 
+end and aim. Then, again, there are three things which every artificer 
+must possess if he is to effect anything—nature, education, practice. 
+Nature is to be judged by capacity, education by knowledge, practice by 
+its fruit. I am aware that, properly speaking, fruit is what one enjoys, use 
+[practice] what one uses. And this seems to be the difference between 
+them, that we are said to enjoy that which in itself, and irrespective of 
+other ends, delights us; to use that which we seek for the sake of some 
+end beyond. For which reason the things of time are to be used rather 
+than enjoyed, that we may deserve to enjoy things eternal; and not as 
+those perverse creatures who would fain enjoy money and use God—not 
+spending money for God’s sake, but worshipping God for money’s sake. 
+However, in common parlance, we both use fruits and enjoy uses. For 
+we correctly speak of the “fruits of the field,” which certainly we all use 
+in the present life. And it was in accordance with this usage that I said 
+that there were three things to be observed in a man, nature, education, 
+practice. From these the philosophers have elaborated, as I said, the 
+
+
+threefold division of that science by which a blessed life is attained: the 
+natural having respect to nature, the rational to education, the moral to 
+practice. If, then, we were ourselves the authors of our nature, we should 
+have generated knowledge in ourselves, and should not require to reach 
+it by education, i.e., by learning it from others. Our love, too, proceeding 
+from ourselves and returning to us, would suffice to make our life 
+blessed, and would stand in need of no extraneous enjoyment. But now, 
+since our nature has God as its requisite author, it is certain that we 
+must have Him for our teacher that we may be wise; Him, too, to 
+dispense to us spiritual sweetness that we may be blessed. 
+
+
+26. Of the image of the supreme Trinity, which we find in some sort in human nature even in its 
+
+
+present state 
+
+
+And we indeed recognise in ourselves the image of God, that is, of the 
+supreme Trinity, an image which, though it be not equal to God, or 
+rather, though it be very far removed from Him—being neither co- 
+eternal, nor, to say all in a word, consubstantial with Him—is yet nearer 
+to Him in nature than any other of His works, and is destined to be yet 
+restored, that it may bear a still closer resemblance. For we both are, 
+and know that we are, and delight in our being, and our knowledge of it. 
+Moreover, in these three things no true-seeming illusion disturbs us; for 
+we do not come into contact with these by some bodily sense, as we 
+perceive the things outside of us—colours, e.g., by seeing, sounds by 
+hearing, smells by smelling, tastes by tasting, hard and soft objects by 
+touching—of all which sensible objects it is the images resembling them, 
+but not themselves which we perceive in the mind and hold in the 
+memory, and which excite us to desire the objects. But, without any 
+delusive representation of images or phantasms, I am most certain that I 
+am, and that I know and delight in this. In respect of these truths, I am 
+not at all afraid of the arguments of the Academicians, who say, What if 
+you are deceived? For if I am deceived, I am.54 For he who is not, cannot 
+be deceived; and if I am deceived, by this same token I am. And since I 
+am if I am deceived, how am I deceived in believing that I am? for it is 
+certain that I am if I am deceived. Since, therefore, I, the person 
+deceived, should be, even if I were deceived, certainly I am not deceived 
+in this knowledge that I am. And, consequently, neither am I deceived in 
+knowing that I know. For, as I know that I am, so I know this also, that I 
+
+
+know. And when I love these two things, I add to them a certain third 
+thing, namely, my love, which is of equal moment. For neither am I 
+deceived in this, that I love, since in those things which I love I am not 
+deceived; though even if these were false, it would still be true that I 
+loved false things. For how could I justly be blamed and prohibited from 
+loving false things, if it were false that I loved them? But, since they are 
+true and real, who doubts that when they are loved, the love of them is 
+itself true and real? Further, as there is no one who does not wish to be 
+happy, so there is no one who does not wish to be. For how can he be 
+happy, if he is nothing? 
+
+
+27. Of existence, and knowledge of it, and the love of both 
+
+
+And truly the very fact of existing is by some natural spell so pleasant, 
+that even the wretched are, for no other reason, unwilling to perish; and, 
+when they feel that they are wretched, wish not that they themselves be 
+annihilated, but that their misery be so. Take even those who, both in 
+their own esteem, and in point of fact, are utterly wretched, and who are 
+reckoned so, not only by wise men on account of their folly, but by those 
+who count themselves blessed, and who think them wretched because 
+they are poor and destitute—if any one should give these men an 
+immortality, in which their misery should be deathless, and should offer 
+the alternative, that if they shrank from existing eternally in the same 
+misery they might be annihilated, and exist nowhere at all, nor in any 
+condition, on the instant they would joyfully, nay exultantly, make 
+election to exist always, even in such a condition, rather than not exist at 
+all. The well-known feeling of such men witnesses to this. For when we 
+see that they fear to die, and will rather live in such misfortune than end 
+it by death, is it not obvious enough how nature shrinks from 
+annihilation? And, accordingly, when they know that they must die, 
+they seek, as a great boon, that this mercy be shown them, that they 
+may a little longer live in the same misery, and delay to end it by death. 
+And so they indubitably prove with what glad alacrity they would accept 
+immortality, even though it secured to them endless destruction. What! 
+do not even all irrational animals, to whom such calculations are 
+unknown, from the huge dragons down to the least worms, all testify 
+that they wish to exist, and therefore shun death by every movement in 
+their power? Nay, the very plants and shrubs, which have no such life as 
+
+
+enables them to shun destruction by movements we can see, do not they 
+all seek, in their own fashion, to conserve their existence, by rooting 
+themselves more and more deeply in the earth, that so they may draw 
+nourishment, and throw out healthy branches towards the sky? In fine, 
+even the lifeless bodies, which want not only sensation but seminal life, 
+yet either seek the upper air or sink deep, or are balanced in an 
+intermediate position, so that they may protect their existence in that 
+situation where they can exist in most accordance with their nature. 
+
+And how much human nature loves the knowledge of its existence, 
+and how it shrinks from being deceived, will be sufficiently understood 
+from this fact, that every man prefers to grieve in a sane mind, rather 
+than to be glad in madness. And this grand and wonderful instinct 
+belongs to men alone of all animals; for, though some of them have 
+keener eyesight than ourselves for this world’s light, they cannot attain 
+to that spiritual light with which our mind is somehow irradiated, so 
+that we can form right judgments of all things. For our power to judge is 
+proportioned to our acceptance of this light. Nevertheless, the irrational 
+animals, though they have not knowledge, have certainly something 
+resembling knowledge; whereas the other material things are said to be 
+sensible, not because they have senses, but because they are the objects 
+of our senses. Yet among plants, their nourishment and generation have 
+some resemblance to sensible life. However, both these and all material 
+things have their causes hidden in their nature; but their outward forms, 
+which lend beauty to this visible structure of the world, are perceived by 
+our senses, so that they seem to wish to compensate for their own want 
+of knowledge by providing us with knowledge. But we perceive them by 
+our bodily senses in such a way that we do not judge of them by these 
+senses. For we have another and far superior sense, belonging to the 
+inner man, by which we perceive what things are just, and what unjust 
+—just by means of an intelligible idea, unjust by the want of it. This 
+sense is aided in its functions neither by the eyesight, nor by the orifice 
+of the ear, nor by the air-holes of the nostrils, nor by the palate’s taste, 
+nor by any bodily touch. By it I am assured both that I am, and that I 
+know this; and these two I love, and in the same manner I am assured 
+that I love them. 
+
+
+28. Whether we ought to love the love itself with which we love our existence and our knowledge of 
+
+
+it, that so we may more nearly resemble the image of the divine Trinity 
+
+
+We have said as much as the scope of this work demands regarding 
+these two things, to wit, our existence, and our knowledge of it, and how 
+much they are loved by us, and how there is found even in the lower 
+creatures a kind of likeness of these things, and yet with a difference. We 
+have yet to speak of the love wherewith they are loved, to determine 
+whether this love itself is loved. And doubtless it is; and this is the proof. 
+Because in men who are justly loved, it is rather love itself that is loved; 
+for he is not justly called a good man who knows what is good, but who 
+loves it. Is it not then obvious that we love in ourselves the very love 
+wherewith we love whatever good we love? For there is also a love 
+wherewith we love that which we ought not to love: and this love is 
+hated by him who loves that wherewith he loves what ought to be loved. 
+For it is quite possible for both to exist in one man. And this co-existence 
+is good for a man, to the end that this love which conduces to our living 
+well may grow, and the other, which leads us to evil may decrease, until 
+our whole life be perfectly healed and transmuted into good. For if we 
+were beasts, we should love the fleshly and sensual life, and this would 
+be our sufficient good; and when it was well with us in respect of it, we 
+should seek nothing beyond. In like manner, if we were trees, we could 
+not, indeed, in the strict sense of the word, love anything; nevertheless 
+we should seem, as it were, to long for that by which we might become 
+more abundantly and luxuriantly fruitful. If we were stones, or waves, or 
+wind, or flame, or anything of that kind, we should want, indeed, both 
+sensation and life, yet should possess a kind of attraction towards our 
+own proper position and natural order. For the specific gravity of bodies 
+is, as it were, their love, whether they are carried downwards by their 
+weight, or upwards by their levity. For the body is borne by its gravity, 
+as the spirit by love, whithersoever it is borne.5> But we are men, 
+created in the image of our Creator, whose eternity is true, and whose 
+truth is eternal, whose love is eternal and true, and who Himself is the 
+eternal, true, and adorable Trinity, without confusion, without 
+separation; and, therefore, while, as we run over all the works which He 
+has established, we may detect, as it were, His footprints, now more and 
+now less distinct even in those things that are beneath us, since they 
+could not so much as exist, or be bodied forth in any shape, or follow 
+
+
+and observe any law, had they not been made by Him who supremely is, 
+and is supremely good and supremely wise; yet in ourselves beholding 
+His image, let us, like that younger son of the gospel, come to ourselves, 
+and arise and return to Him from whom by our sin we had departed. 
+There our being will have no death, our knowledge no error, our love no 
+mishap. But now, though we are assured of our possession of these three 
+things, not on the testimony of others, but by our own consciousness of 
+their presence, and because we see them with our own most truthful 
+interior vision, yet, as we cannot of ourselves know how long they are to 
+continue, and whether they shall never cease to be, and what issue their 
+good or bad use will lead to, we seek for others who can acquaint us of 
+these things, if we have not already found them. Of the trustworthiness 
+of these witnesses, there will, not now, but subsequently, be an 
+opportunity of speaking. But in this book let us go on as we have begun, 
+with God’s help, to speak of the city of God, not in its state of pilgrimage 
+and mortality, but as it exists ever immortal in the heavens—that is, let 
+us speak of the holy angels who maintain their allegiance to God, who 
+never were, nor ever shall be, apostate, between whom and those who 
+forsook light eternal and became darkness, God, as we have already said, 
+made at the first a separation. 
+
+
+29. Of the knowledge by which the holy angels know God in His essence, and by which they see the 
+
+
+causes of His works in the art of the worker, before they see them in the works of the artist 
+
+
+Those holy angels come to the knowledge of God not by audible 
+words, but by the presence to their souls of immutable truth, i.e., of the 
+only-begotten Word of God; and they know this Word Himself, and the 
+Father, and their Holy Spirit, and that this Trinity is indivisible, and that 
+the three persons of it are one substance, and that there are not three 
+Gods but one God; and this they so know, that it is better understood by 
+them than we are by ourselves. Thus, too, they know the creature also, 
+not in itself, but by this better way, in the wisdom of God, as if in the art 
+by which it was created; and, consequently, they know themselves better 
+in God than in themselves, though they have also this latter knowledge. 
+For they were created, and are different from their Creator. In Him, 
+therefore, they have, as it were, a noonday knowledge; in themselves, a 
+twilight knowledge, according to our former explanations.°° For there is 
+a great difference between knowing a thing in the design in conformity 
+
+
+to which it was made, and knowing it in itself—e.g., the straightness of 
+lines and correctness of figures is known in one way when mentally 
+conceived, in another when described on paper; and justice is known in 
+one way in the unchangeable truth, in another in the spirit of a just man. 
+So is it with all other things—as, the firmament between the water 
+above and below, which was called the heaven; the gathering of the 
+waters beneath, and the laying bare of the dry land, and the production 
+of plants and trees; the creation of sun, moon, and stars; and of the 
+animals out of the waters, fowls, and fish, and monsters of the deep; and 
+of everything that walks or creeps on the earth, and of man himself, who 
+excels all that is on the earth—all these things are known in one way by 
+the angels in the Word of God, in which they see the eternally abiding 
+causes and reasons according to which they were made, and in another 
+way in themselves: in the former, with a clearer knowledge; in the latter, 
+with a knowledge dimmer, and rather of the bare works than of the 
+design. Yet, when these works are referred to the praise and adoration of 
+the Creator Himself, it is as if morning dawned in the minds of those 
+who contemplate them. 
+
+
+30. Of the perfection of the number six, which is the first of the numbers which is composed of 
+its aliquot parts 
+
+
+These works are recorded to have been completed in six days (the 
+same day being six times repeated), because six is a perfect number—not 
+because God required a protracted time, as if He could not at once create 
+all things, which then should mark the course of time by the movements 
+proper to them, but because the perfection of the works was signified by 
+the number six. For the number six is the first which is made up of its 
+own 7 parts, ie., of its sixth, third, and half, which are respectively one, 
+two, and three, and which make a total of six. In this way of looking at a 
+number, those are said to be its parts which exactly divide it, as a half, a 
+third, a fourth, or a fraction with any denominator—e.g., four is a part of 
+nine, but not therefore an aliquot part; but one is, for it is the ninth part; 
+and three is, for it is the third. Yet these two parts, the ninth and the 
+third, or one and three, are far from making its whole sum of nine. So 
+again, in the number ten, four is a part, yet does not divide it; but one is 
+an aliquot part, for it is a tenth; so it has a fifth, which is two; and a half, 
+which is five. But these three parts, a tenth, a fifth, and a half, or one, 
+
+
+two, and five, added together, do not make ten, but eight. Of the number 
+twelve, again, the parts added together exceed the whole; for it has a 
+twelfth, that is, one; a sixth, or two; a fourth, which is three; a third, 
+which is four; and a half, which is six. But one, two, three, four, and six 
+make up, not twelve, but more, viz. sixteen. So much I have thought fit 
+to state for the sake of illustrating the perfection of the number six, 
+which is, as I said, the first which is exactly made up of its own parts 
+added together; and in this number of days God finished His work.58 
+And, therefore, we must not despise the science of numbers, which, in 
+many passages of holy Scripture, is found to be of eminent service to the 
+careful interpreter.5? Neither has it been without reason numbered 
+among God’s praises, “Thou hast ordered all things in number, and 
+measure, and weight.”60 
+
+
+31. Of the seventh day, in which completeness and repose are celebrated 
+
+
+But, on the seventh day (ie., the same day repeated seven times, 
+which number is also a perfect one, though for another reason), the rest 
+of God is set forth, and then, too, we first hear of its being hallowed. So 
+that God did not wish to hallow this day by His works, but by His rest, 
+which has no evening, for it is not a creature; so that, being known in 
+one way in the Word of God, and in another in itself, it should make a 
+twofold knowledge, daylight and dusk (day and evening). Much more 
+might be said about the perfection of the number seven, but this book is 
+already too long, and I fear lest I should seem to catch at an opportunity 
+of airing my little smattering of science more childishly than profitably. I 
+must speak, therefore, in moderation and with dignity, lest, in too keenly 
+following “number,” I be accused of forgetting “weight” and “measure.” 
+Suffice it here to say, that three is the first whole number that is odd, 
+four the first that is even, and of these two seven is composed. On this 
+account it is often put for all numbers together, as, “A just man falleth 
+seven times, and riseth up again”6!—that is, let him fall never so often, 
+he will not perish (and this was meant to be understood not of sins, but 
+of afflictions conducing to lowliness). Again, “Seven times a day will I 
+praise Thee,”62 which elsewhere is expressed thus, “I will bless the Lord 
+at all times.”63 And many such instances are found in the divine 
+authorities, in which the number seven is, as I said, commonly used to 
+express the whole, or the completeness of anything. And so the Holy 
+
+
+Spirit, of whom the Lord says, “He will teach you all truth,” is signified 
+by this number.®> In it is the rest of God, the rest His people find in Him. 
+For rest is in the whole, ie. in perfect completeness, while in the part 
+there is labour. And thus we labour as long as we know in part; “but 
+when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be 
+done away.”6® It is even with toil we search into the Scriptures 
+themselves. But the holy angels, towards whose society and assembly we 
+sigh while in this our toilsome pilgrimage, as they already abide in their 
+eternal home, so do they enjoy perfect facility of knowledge and felicity 
+of rest. It is without difficulty that they help us; for their spiritual 
+movements, pure and free, cost them no effort. 
+
+
+32. Of the opinion that the angels were created before the world 
+
+
+But if some one oppose our opinion, and say that the holy angels are 
+not referred to when it is said, “Let there be light, and there was light;” 
+if he suppose or teach that some material light, then first created, was 
+meant, and that the angels were created, not only before the firmament 
+dividing the waters and named “the heaven,” but also before the time 
+signified in the words, “In the beginning God created the heaven and the 
+earth;” if he allege that this phrase, “In the beginning,” does not mean 
+that nothing was made before (for the angels were), but that God made 
+all things by His Wisdom or Word, who is named in Scripture “the 
+Beginning,” as He Himself, in the gospel, replied to the Jews when they 
+asked Him who He was, that He was the Beginning;®7—I will not contest 
+the point, chiefly because it gives me the liveliest satisfaction to find the 
+Trinity celebrated in the very beginning of the book of Genesis. For, 
+having said, “In the Beginning God created the heaven and the earth,” 
+meaning that the Father made them in the Son (as the psalm testifies 
+where it says, “How manifold are Thy works, O Lord! in Wisdom hast 
+Thou made them all”68), a little afterwards mention is fitly made of the 
+Holy Spirit also. For, when it had been told us what kind of earth God 
+created at first, or what the mass or matter was which God, under the 
+name of “heaven and earth,” had provided for the construction of the 
+world, as is told in the additional words, “And the earth was without 
+form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep,” then, for 
+the sake of completing the mention of the Trinity, it is immediately 
+added, “And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.” Let 
+
+
+each one, then, take it as he pleases; for it is so profound a passage, that 
+it may well suggest, for the exercise of the reader’s tact, many opinions, 
+and none of them widely departing from the rule of faith. At the same 
+time, let none doubt that the holy angels in their heavenly abodes are, 
+though not, indeed, co-eternal with God, yet secure and certain of 
+eternal and true felicity. To their company the Lord teaches that His 
+little ones belong; and not only says, “They shall be equal to the angels 
+of God,”6? but shows, too, what blessed contemplation the angels 
+themselves enjoy, saying, “Take heed that ye despise not one of these 
+little ones: for I say unto you, that in heaven their angels do always 
+behold the face of my Father which is in heaven.”70 
+
+
+33. Of the two different and dissimilar communities of angels, which are not inappropriately 
+
+
+signified by the names light and darkness 
+
+
+That certain angels sinned, and were thrust down to the lowest parts 
+of this world, where they are, as it were, incarcerated till their final 
+damnation in the day of judgment, the Apostle Peter very plainly 
+declares, when he says that “God spared not the angels that sinned, but 
+cast them down to hell, and delivered them into chains of darkness to be 
+reserved unto judgment.””7! Who, then, can doubt that God, either in 
+foreknowledge or in act, separated between these and the rest? And who 
+will dispute that the rest are justly called “light?” For even we who are 
+yet living by faith, hoping only and not yet enjoying equality with them, 
+are already called “light” by the apostle: “For ye were sometimes 
+darkness, but now are ye light in the Lord.””2 But as for these apostate 
+angels, all who understand or believe them to be worse than unbelieving 
+men are well aware that they are called “darkness.” Wherefore, though 
+light and darkness are to be taken in their literal signification in these 
+passages of Genesis in which it is said, “God said, Let there be light, and 
+there was light,” and “God divided the light from the darkness,” yet, for 
+our part, we understand these two societies of angels—the one enjoying 
+God, the other swelling with pride; the one to whom it is said, “Praise ye 
+Him, all His angels,”73 the other whose prince says, “All these things will 
+I give Thee if Thou wilt fall down and worship me;”74 the one blazing 
+with the holy love of God, the other reeking with the unclean lust of self- 
+advancement. And since, as it is written, “God resisteth the proud, but 
+giveth grace unto the humble,”75 we may say, the one dwelling in the 
+
+
+heaven of heavens, the other cast thence, and raging through the lower 
+regions of the air; the one tranquil in the brightness of piety, the other 
+tempest-tossed with beclouding desires; the one, at God’s pleasure, 
+tenderly succouring, justly avenging—the other, set on by its own pride, 
+boiling with the lust of subduing and hurting; the one the minister of 
+God’s goodness to the utmost of their good pleasure, the other held in by 
+God’s power from doing the harm it would; the former laughing at the 
+latter when it does good unwillingly by its persecutions, the latter 
+envying the former when it gathers in its pilgrims. These two angelic 
+communities, then, dissimilar and contrary to one another, the one both 
+by nature good and by will upright, the other also good by nature but by 
+will depraved, as they are exhibited in other and more explicit passages 
+of holy writ, so I think they are spoken of in this book of Genesis under 
+the names of light and darkness; and even if the author perhaps had a 
+different meaning, yet our discussion of the obscure language has not 
+been wasted time; for, though we have been unable to discover his 
+meaning, yet we have adhered to the rule of faith, which is sufficiently 
+ascertained by the faithful from other passages of equal authority. For, 
+though it is the material works of God which are here spoken of, they 
+have certainly a resemblance to the spiritual, so that Paul can say, “Ye 
+are all the children of light, and the children of the day: we are not of 
+the night, nor of darkness.”76 If, on the other hand, the author of Genesis 
+saw in the words what we see, then our discussion reaches this more 
+satisfactory conclusion, that the man of God, so eminently and divinely 
+wise, or rather, that the Spirit of God who by him recorded God’s works 
+which were finished on the sixth day, may be supposed not to have 
+omitted all mention of the angels, whether he included them in the 
+words “in the beginning,” because He made them first, or, which seems 
+most likely, because He made them in the only-begotten Word. And, 
+under these names heaven and earth, the whole creation is signified, 
+either as divided into spiritual and material, which seems the more 
+likely, or into the two great parts of the world in which all created 
+things are contained, so that, first of all, the creation is presented in sum, 
+and then its parts are enumerated according to the mystic number of the 
+days. 
+
+
+34. Of the idea that the angels were meant where the separation of the waters by the firmament is 
+
+
+spoken of, and of that other idea that the waters were not created 
+
+
+Some,’7 however, have supposed that the angelic hosts are somehow 
+referred to under the name of waters, and that this is what is meant by, 
+“Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters:”78 that the waters 
+above should be understood of the angels, and those below either of the 
+visible waters, or of the multitude of bad angels, or of the nations of 
+men. If this be so, then it does not here appear when the angels were 
+created, but when they were separated. Though there have not been 
+wanting men foolish and wicked enough’? to deny that the waters were 
+made by God, because it is nowhere written, “God said, Let there be 
+waters.” With equal folly they might say the same of the earth, for 
+nowhere do we read, “God said, Let the earth be.” But, say they, it is 
+written, “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.” Yes, 
+and there the water is meant, for both are included in one word. For 
+“the sea is His,” and the psalm says, “and He made it; and His hands 
+formed the dry land.”8° But those who would understand the angels by 
+the waters above the skies have a difficulty about the specific gravity of 
+the elements, and fear that the waters, owing to their fluidity and 
+weight, could not be set in the upper parts of the world. So that, if they 
+were to construct a man upon their own principles, they would not put 
+in his head any moist humours, or “phlegm” as the Greeks call it, and 
+which acts the part of water among the elements of our body. But, in 
+God’s handiwork, the head is the seat of the phlegm, and surely most 
+fitly; and yet, according to their supposition, so absurdly that if we were 
+not aware of the fact, and were informed by this same record that God 
+had put a moist and cold and therefore heavy humour in the uppermost 
+part of man’s body, these world-weighers would refuse belief. And if 
+they were confronted with the authority of Scripture, they would 
+maintain that something else must be meant by the words. But, were we 
+to investigate and discover all the details which are written in this divine 
+book regarding the creation of the world, we should have much to say, 
+and should widely digress from the proposed aim of this work. Since, 
+then, we have now said what seemed needful regarding these two 
+diverse and contrary communities of angels, in which the origin of the 
+two human communities (of which we intend to speak anon) is also 
+found, let us at once bring this book also to a conclusion. 
+
+
+1 Written in the year 416 or 417. 
+
+2 Ps. Ixxxvii. 3. 
+
+3 Ps. xlviii. 1. 
+
+4 Ps. xlvi. 4. 
+
+5 Homine assumto, non Deo consumto. 
+
+6 Quo itur Deus, qua itur homo. 
+
+7 A clause is here inserted to give the etymology of præsentia from præ sensibus. 
+8 Another derivation, sententia from sensus, the inward perception of the mind. 
+2 Gen. i. 1. 
+
+10 Prov. viii. 27. 
+
+11 Matt. xviii. 10. 
+
+
+12 A common question among the Epicureans; urged by Velleius in Cic. De Nat. Deor. i. 9; 
+adopted by the Manichzans and spoken to by Augustine in the Conf. xi. 10, 12, also in De Gen. 
+
+
+contra Man. i. 3. 
+
+13 The Neo-Platonists. 
+
+14 Number begins at one, but runs on infinitely. 
+15 Gal. iv. 26. 
+
+16 ] Thess. v. 5. 
+
+17 Comp. de Gen ad lit. i. and iv. 
+
+18 Ver, 35. 
+
+19 ps, exlviii. 1-5. 
+
+20 Job xxxviii. 7. 
+
+
+21 Vives here notes that the Greek theologians and Jerome held, with Plato, that spiritual 
+creatures were made first, and used by God in the creation of things material. The Latin 
+
+
+theologians and Basil held that God made all things at once. 
+22 John i. 9. 
+23 Mali enim nulla natura est: sed amissio boni, mali nomen accepit. 
+
+
+24 Plutarch (De Plac. Phil. i. 3, and iv. 3) tells us that this opinion was held by Anaximenes of 
+Miletus, the followers of Anaxagoras, and many of the Stoics. Diogenes the Cynic, as well as 
+Diogenes of Apollonia, seems to have adopted the same opinion. See Zeller’s Stoics, pp. 121 and 
+199. 
+
+
+25 “Ubi lux non est, tenebra sunt, non quis aliquid sunt tenebra, sed ipsa lucis absentia tenebre 
+
+
+dicuntur.”—Aug. De Gen. contra Man. 7. 
+26 Wisdom vii. 22. 
+
+
+27 The strongly Platonic tinge of this language is perhaps best preserved in a bare literal 
+
+
+translation. 
+
+
+28 Vives remarks that the ancients defined blessedness as an absolutely perfect state in all good, 
+peculiar to God. Perhaps Augustine had a reminiscence of the remarkable discussion in the Tusc. 
+Disp. lib. v., and the definition “Neque ulla alia huic verbo, quum beatum dicimus, subjecta notio 
+
+
+est, nisi, secretis malis omnibus, cumulata bonorum complexio.” 
+
+29 With this chapter compare the books De Dono Persever. and De Correp. et Gratia. 
+30 Matt. xxv. 46. 
+
+31 John viii. 44. 
+
+32 1 John iii. 8. 
+
+33 Cf. Gen. ad Lit. xi. 27 et seqq. 
+
+34 Ps, xvii. 6. 
+
+35 John iii. 8. 
+
+36 The Manichzans. 
+
+37 Isa. xiv. 12. 
+
+38 Ezek. xxviii. 13. 
+
+39 Job xl. 14 (LXX.). 
+
+40 Ps. civ. 26. 
+
+41Job. xl. 14 (LXX.). 
+
+421t must be kept in view that “vice” has, in his passage, the meaning of sinful blemish. 
+43Ps. civ. 26. 
+
+44 Quintilian uses it commonly in the sense of antithesis. 
+
+45 2 Cor. vi. 7-10. 
+
+46 Ecclus. xxxiii. 15. 
+
+47 Gen. i. 14-18. 
+
+
+48 The reference is to the Timeeus, p. 37 C., where he says, “When the parent Creator perceived 
+this created image of the eternal gods in life and motion, He was delighted, and in His joy 
+considered how He might make it still liker its model.” 
+
+
+49 Jas. i. 17. 
+
+
+50 The passage referred to is in the Timeeus, p. 29 D.: “Let us say what was the cause of the 
+
+
+Creator’s forming this universe. He was good; and in the good no envy is ever generated about 
+anything whatever. Therefore, being free from envy, He desired that all things should, as much 
+
+
+as possible, resemble Himself.” 
+51The Manichaeans, to wit. 
+
+52 Gen. I. 31. 
+
+53 Proprietas. 
+
+
+54 This is one of the passages cited by Sir William Hamilton, along with the “Cogito, ergo sum” of 
+Descartes, in confirmation of his proof, that in so far as we are conscious of certain modes of 
+existence, in so far we possess an absolute certainty that we exist. See note A in Hamilton’s Reid, 
+p. 744. 
+
+
+°5 Compare the Confessions, xiii. 9. 
+
+56 Ch.7. 
+
+57 Or aliquot parts. 
+
+58 Comp. Aug. Gen. ad Lit. iv. 2, and De Trinitate, iv. 7. 
+
+59 For passages illustrating early opinions regarding numbers, see Smith’s Dict. Art number. 
+60 Wisd. xi. 20. 
+
+61 Prov. xxiv. 16. 
+
+62 Ps, cxix. 164. 
+
+63 Ps. xxxiv. 1. 
+
+64 John xvi. 13. 
+
+
+65 In Isa. xi. 2, as he shows in his eighth sermon, where this subject is further pursued; otherwise, 
+
+
+one might have supposed he referred to Rev. iii. 1. 
+
+66 1 Cor. xiii. 10. 
+
+67 Augustine refers to John viii. 25; see p. 329. He might rather have referred to Rev. iii. 14. 
+68 Ps. civ. 24. 
+
+69 Matt. xxii. 30. 
+
+70 Matt. xviii. 10. 
+
+71 2 Peter ii. 4. 
+
+72 Eph. v. 8. 
+
+73 Ps. exlviii. 2. 
+
+74 Matt. iv. 9. 
+
+
+75 Jas. iv. 6. 
+
+
+76 1 Thess. v. 5. 
+
+
+77 Augustine himself published this idea in his Conf. xiii. 32, but afterwards retracted it, as “said 
+without sufficient consideration” (Retract. II. vi. 2). Epiphanius and Jerome ascribe it to Origen. 
+78 Gen. i. 6. 
+
+79 Namely, the Audians and Sampszans, insignificant heretical sects mentioned by Theodoret 
+and Epiphanius. 
+
+
+80 Ps, xcv. 5. 
+
+
+BOOK TWELFTH 
+
+
+ARGUMENT 
+
+
+AUGUSTINE FIRST INSTITUTES TWO INQUIRIES REGARDING THE ANGELS; NAMELY, WHENCE IS THERE IN 
+SOME A GOOD, AND IN OTHERS AN EVIL WILL? AND, WHAT IS THE REASON OF THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE 
+GOOD, AND THE MISERY OF THE EVIL? AFTERWARDS HE TREATS OF THE CREATION OF MAN, AND 
+
+
+TEACHES THAT HE IS NOT FROM ETERNITY, BUT WAS CREATED, AND BY NONE OTHER THAN GOD. 
+
+
+1. That the nature of the angels, both good and bad, is one and the same 
+
+
+L' has already, in the preceding book, been shown how the two cities 
+originated among the angels. Before I speak of the creation of man, 
+and show how the cities took their rise, so far as regards the race of 
+rational mortals, I see that I must first, so far as I can, adduce what may 
+demonstrate that it is not incongruous and unsuitable to speak of a 
+society composed of angels and men together; so that there are not four 
+cities or societies—two, namely, of angels, and as many of men—but 
+rather two in all, one composed of the good, the other of the wicked, 
+angels or men indifferently. 
+
+That the contrary propensities in good and bad angels have arisen, not 
+from a difference in their nature and origin, since God, the good Author 
+and Creator of all essences, created them both, but from a difference in 
+their wills and desires, it is impossible to doubt. While some stedfastly 
+continued in that which was the common good of all, namely, in God 
+Himself, and in His eternity, truth, and love; others, being enamoured 
+rather of their own power, as if they could be their own good, lapsed to 
+this private good of their own, from that higher and beatific good which 
+was common to all, and, bartering the lofty dignity of eternity for the 
+inflation of pride, the most assured verity for the slyness of vanity, 
+uniting love for factious partisanship, they became proud, deceived, 
+envious. The cause, therefore, of the blessedness of the good is 
+adherence to God. And so the cause of the others’ misery will be found 
+in the contrary, that is, in their not adhering to God. Wherefore, if when 
+
+
+the question is asked, why are the former blessed, it is rightly answered, 
+because they adhere to God; and when it is asked, why are the latter 
+miserable, it is rightly answered, because they do not adhere to God— 
+then there is no other good for the rational or intellectual creature save 
+God only. Thus, though it is not every creature that can be blessed (for 
+beasts, trees, stones, and things of that kind have not this capacity), yet 
+that creature which has the capacity cannot be blessed of itself, since it 
+is created out of nothing, but only by Him by whom it has been created. 
+For it is blessed by the possession of that whose loss makes it miserable. 
+He, then, who is blessed not in another, but in himself, cannot be 
+miserable, because he cannot lose himself. 
+
+Accordingly we say that there is no unchangeable good but the one, 
+true, blessed God; that the things which He made are indeed good 
+because from Him, yet mutable because made not out of Him, but out of 
+nothing. Although, therefore, they are not the supreme good, for God is 
+a greater good, yet those mutable things which can adhere to the 
+immutable good, and so be blessed, are very good; for so completely is 
+He their good, that without Him they cannot but be wretched. And the 
+other created things in the universe are not better on this account, that 
+they cannot be miserable. For no one would say that the other members 
+of the body are superior to the eyes, because they cannot be blind. But as 
+the sentient nature, even when it feels pain, is superior to the stony, 
+which can feel none, so the rational nature, even when wretched, is 
+more excellent than that which lacks reason or feeling, and can therefore 
+experience no misery. And since this is so, then in this nature which has 
+been created so excellent, that though it be mutable itself, it can yet 
+secure its blessedness by adhering to the immutable good, the supreme 
+God; and since it is not satisfied unless it be perfectly blessed, and 
+cannot be thus blessed save in God—in this nature, I say, not to adhere 
+to God, is manifestly a fault.1 Now every fault injures the nature, and is 
+consequently contrary to the nature. The creature, therefore, which 
+cleaves to God, differs from those who do not, not by nature, but by 
+fault; and yet by this very fault the nature itself is proved to be very 
+noble and admirable. For that nature is certainly praised, the fault of 
+which is justly blamed. For we justly blame the fault because it mars the 
+praiseworthy nature. As, then, when we say that blindness is a defect of 
+the eyes, we prove that sight belongs to the nature of the eyes; and when 
+
+
+we say that deafness is a defect of the ears, hearing is thereby proved to 
+belong to their nature;—so, when we say that it is a fault of the angelic 
+creature that it does not cleave to God, we hereby most plainly declare 
+that it pertained to its nature to cleave to God. And who can worthily 
+conceive or express how great a glory that is, to cleave to God, so as to 
+live to Him, to draw wisdom from Him, to delight in Him, and to enjoy 
+this so great good, without death, error, or grief? And thus, since every 
+vice is an injury of the nature, that very vice of the wicked angels, their 
+departure from God, is sufficient proof that God created their nature so 
+good, that it is an injury to it not to be with God. 
+
+
+2 That there is no entity? contrary to the divine, because nonentity seems to be that which is 
+
+
+wholly opposite to Him who supremely and always is 
+
+
+This may be enough to prevent any one from supposing, when we 
+speak of the apostate angels, that they could have another nature, 
+derived, as it were, from some different origin, and not from God. From 
+the great impiety of this error we shall disentangle ourselves the more 
+readily and easily, the more distinctly we understand that which God 
+spoke by the angel when He sent Moses to the children of Israel: “I am 
+that I am.” For since God is the supreme existence, that is to say, 
+supremely is, and is therefore unchangeable, the things that He made He 
+empowered to be, but not to be supremely like Himself. To some He 
+communicated a more ample, to others a more limited existence, and 
+thus arranged the natures of beings in ranks. For as from sapere comes 
+sapientia, so from esse comes essentia—a new word indeed, which the old 
+Latin writers did not use, but which is naturalized in our day,* that our 
+language may not want an equivalent for the Greek oieia. For this is 
+expressed word for word by essentia. Consequently, to that nature which 
+supremely is, and which created all else that exists, no nature is contrary 
+save that which does not exist. For nonentity is the contrary of that 
+which is. And thus there is no being contrary to God, the Supreme Being, 
+and Author of all beings whatsoever. 
+
+
+3. That the enemies of God are so, not by nature but by will, which, as it injures them, injures a 
+
+
+good nature; so if vice does not injure, it is not vice 
+
+
+In Scripture they are called God’s enemies who oppose His rule, not by 
+nature, but by vice; having no power to hurt Him, but only themselves. 
+
+
+For they are His enemies, not through their power to hurt, but by their 
+will to oppose Him. For God is unchangeable, and wholly proof against 
+injury. Therefore the vice which makes those who are called His enemies 
+resist Him, is an evil not to God, but to themselves. And to them it is an 
+evil, solely because it corrupts the good of their nature. It is not nature, 
+therefore, but vice, which is contrary to God. For that which is evil is 
+contrary to the good. And who will deny that God is the supreme good? 
+Vice, therefore, is contrary to God, as evil to good. Further, the nature it 
+vitiates is a good, and therefore to this good also it is contrary. But while 
+it is contrary to God only as evil to good, it is contrary to the nature it 
+vitiates, both as evil and as hurtful. For to God no evils are hurtful; but 
+only to natures mutable and corruptible, though, by the testimony of the 
+vices themselves, originally good. For were they not good, vices could 
+not hurt them. For how do they hurt them but by depriving them of 
+integrity, beauty, welfare, virtue, and, in short, whatever natural good 
+vice is wont to diminish or destroy? But if there be no good to take 
+away, then no injury can be done, and consequently there can be no 
+vice. For it is impossible that there should be a harmless vice. Whence 
+we gather, that though vice cannot injure the unchangeable good, it can 
+injure nothing but good; because it does not exist where it does not 
+injure. This, then, may be thus formulated: Vice cannot be in the highest 
+good, and cannot be but in some good. Things solely good, therefore, 
+can in some circumstances exist; things solely evil, never; for even those 
+natures which are vitiated by an evil will, so far indeed as they are 
+vitiated, are evil, but in so far as they are natures they are good. And 
+when a vitiated nature is punished, besides the good it has in being a 
+nature, it has this also, that it is not unpunished.® For this is just, and 
+certainly everything just is a good. For no one is punished for natural, 
+but for voluntary vices. For even the vice which by the force of habit and 
+long continuance has become a second nature, had its origin in the will. 
+For at present we are speaking of the vices of the nature, which has a 
+mental capacity for that enlightenment which discriminates between 
+what is just and what is unjust. 
+
+
+4. Of the nature of irrational and lifeless creatures, which in their own kind and order do not 
+
+
+mar the beauty of the universe 
+
+
+But it is ridiculous to condemn the faults of beasts and trees, and other 
+
+
+such mortal and mutable things as are void of intelligence, sensation, or 
+life, even though these faults should destroy their corruptible nature; for 
+these creatures received, at their Creator’s will, an existence fitting them, 
+by passing away and giving place to others, to secure that lowest form of 
+beauty, the beauty of seasons, which in its own place is a requisite part 
+of this world. For things earthly were neither to be made equal to things 
+heavenly, nor were they, though inferior, to be quite omitted from the 
+universe. Since, then, in those situations where such things are 
+appropriate, some perish to make way for others that are born in their 
+room, and the less succumb to the greater, and the things that are 
+overcome are transformed into the quality of those that have the 
+mastery, this is the appointed order of things transitory. Of this order the 
+beauty does not strike us, because by our mortal frailty we are so 
+involved in a part of it, that we cannot perceive the whole, in which 
+these fragments that offend us are harmonized with the most accurate 
+fitness and beauty. And therefore, where we are not so well able to 
+perceive the wisdom of the Creator, we are very properly enjoined to 
+believe it, lest in the vanity of human rashness we presume to find any 
+fault with the work of so great an Artificer. At the same time, if we 
+attentively consider even these faults of earthly things, which are neither 
+voluntary nor penal, they seem to illustrate the excellence of the natures 
+themselves, which are all originated and created by God; for it is that 
+which pleases us in this nature which we are displeased to see removed 
+by the fault—unless even the natures themselves displease men, as often 
+happens when they become hurtful to them, and then men estimate 
+them not by their nature, but by their utility; as in the case of those 
+animals whose swarms scourged the pride of the Egyptians. But in this 
+way of estimating, they may find fault with the sun itself; for certain 
+criminals or debtors are sentenced by the judges to be set in the sun. 
+Therefore it is not with respect to our convenience or discomfort, but 
+with respect to their own nature, that the creatures are glorifying to 
+their Artificer. Thus even the nature of the eternal fire, penal though it 
+be to the condemned sinners, is most assuredly worthy of praise. For 
+what is more beautiful than fire flaming, blazing, and shining? What 
+more useful than fire for warming, restoring, cooking, though nothing is 
+more destructive than fire burning and consuming? The same thing, 
+then, when applied in one way, is destructive, but when applied 
+
+
+suitably, is most beneficial. For who can find words to tell its uses 
+throughout the whole world? We must not listen, then, to those who 
+praise the light of fire but find fault with its heat, judging it not by its 
+nature, but by their convenience or discomfort. For they wish to see, but 
+not to be burnt. But they forget that this very light which is so pleasant 
+to them, disagrees with and hurts weak eyes; and in that heat which is 
+disagreeable to them, some animals find the most suitable conditions of 
+a healthy life. 
+
+
+5. That in all natures, of every kind and rank, God is glorified 
+
+
+All natures, then, inasmuch as they are, and have therefore a rank and 
+species of their own, and a kind of internal harmony, are certainly good. 
+And when they are in the places assigned to them by the order of their 
+nature, they preserve such being as they have received. And those things 
+which have not received everlasting being, are altered for better or for 
+worse, so as to suit the wants and motions of those things to which the 
+Creator’s law has made them subservient; and thus they tend in the 
+divine providence to that end which is embraced in the general scheme 
+of the government of the universe. So that, though the corruption of 
+transitory and perishable things brings them to utter destruction, it does 
+not prevent their producing that which was designed to be their result. 
+And this being so, God, who supremely is, and who therefore created 
+every being which has not supreme existence (for that which was made 
+of nothing could not be equal to Him, and indeed could not be at all had 
+He not made it), is not to be found fault with on account of the 
+creature’s faults, but is to be praised in view of the natures He has made. 
+
+
+6 What the cause of the blessedness of the good angels is, and what the cause of the misery of 
+the wicked 
+
+
+Thus the true cause of the blessedness of the good angels is found to 
+be this, that they cleave to Him who supremely is. And if we ask the 
+cause of the misery of the bad, it occurs to us, and not unreasonably, 
+that they are miserable because they have forsaken Him who supremely 
+is, and have turned to themselves who have no such essence. And this 
+vice, what else is it called than pride? For “pride is the beginning of 
+sin.”6 They were unwilling, then, to preserve their strength for God; and 
+as adherence to God was the condition of their enjoying an ampler 
+
+
+being, they diminished it by preferring themselves to Him. This was the 
+first defect, and the first impoverishment, and the first flaw of their 
+nature, which was created, not indeed supremely existent, but finding its 
+blessedness in the enjoyment of the Supreme Being; whilst by 
+abandoning Him it should become, not indeed no nature at all, but a 
+nature with a less ample existence, and therefore wretched. 
+
+If the further question be asked, What was the efficient cause of their 
+evil will? there is none. For what is it which makes the will bad, when it 
+is the will itself which makes the action bad? And consequently the bad 
+will is the cause of the bad action, but nothing is the efficient cause of 
+the bad will. For if anything is the cause, this thing either has or has not 
+a will. If it has, the will is either good or bad. If good, who is so left to 
+himself as to say that a good will makes a will bad? For in this case a 
+good will would be the cause of sin; a most absurd supposition. On the 
+other hand, if this hypothetical thing has a bad will, I wish to know what 
+made it so; and that we may not go on for ever, I ask at once, what made 
+the first evil will bad? For. that is not the first which was itself corrupted 
+by an evil will, but that is the first which was made evil by no other will. 
+For if it were preceded by that which made it evil, that will was first 
+which made the other evil. But if it is replied, “Nothing made it evil; it 
+always was evil,” I ask if it has been existing in some nature. For if not, 
+then it did not exist at all; and if it did exist in some nature, then it 
+vitiated and corrupted it, and injured it, and consequently deprived it of 
+good. And therefore the evil will could not exist in an evil nature, but in 
+a nature at once good and mutable, which this vice could injure. For if it 
+did no injury, it was no vice; and consequently the will in which it was, 
+could not be called evil. But if it did injury, it did it by taking away or 
+diminishing good. And therefore there could not be from eternity, as was 
+suggested, an evil will in that thing in which there had been previously a 
+natural good, which the evil will was able to diminish by corrupting it. 
+If, then, it was not from eternity, who, I ask, made it? The only thing 
+that can be suggested in reply is, that something which itself had no will, 
+made the will evil. I ask, then, whether this thing was superior, inferior, 
+or equal to it? If superior, then it is better. How, then, has it no will, and 
+not rather a good will? The same reasoning applies if it was equal; for so 
+long as two things have equally a good will, the one cannot produce in 
+the other an evil will. Then remains the supposition that that which 
+
+
+corrupted the will of the angelic nature which first sinned, was itself an 
+inferior thing without a will. But that thing, be it of the lowest and most 
+earthly kind, is certainly itself good, since it is a nature and being, with a 
+form and rank of its own in its own kind and order. How, then, can a 
+good thing be the efficient cause of an evil will? How, I say, can good be 
+the cause of evil? For when the will abandons what is above itself, and 
+turns to what is lower, it becomes evil—not because that is evil to which 
+it turns, but because the turning itself is wicked. Therefore it is not an 
+inferior thing which has made the will evil, but it is itself which has 
+become so by wickedly and inordinately desiring an inferior thing. For if 
+two men, alike in physical and moral constitution, see the same corporal 
+beauty, and one of them is excited by the sight to desire an illicit 
+enjoyment, while the other stedfastly maintains a modest restraint of his 
+will, what do we suppose brings it about, that there is an evil will in the 
+one and not in the other? What produces it in the man in whom it 
+exists? Not the bodily beauty, for that was presented equally to the gaze 
+of both, and yet did not produce in both an evil will. Did the flesh of the 
+one cause the desire as he looked? But why did not the flesh of the 
+other? Or was it the disposition? But why not the disposition of both? 
+For we are supposing that both were of a like temperament of body and 
+soul. Must we, then, say that the one was tempted by a secret suggestion 
+of the evil spirit? As if it was not by his own will that he consented to 
+this suggestion and to any inducement whatever! This consent, then, this 
+evil will which he presented to the evil suasive influence—what was the 
+cause of it, we ask? For, not to delay on such a difficulty as this, if both 
+are tempted equally, and one yields and consents to the temptation, 
+while the other remains unmoved by it, what other account can we give 
+of the matter than this, that the one is willing, the other unwilling, to 
+fall away from chastity? And what causes this but their own wills, in 
+cases at least such as we are supposing, where the temperament is 
+identical? The same beauty was equally obvious to the eyes of both; the 
+same secret temptation pressed on both with equal violence. However 
+minutely we examine the case, therefore, we can discern nothing which 
+caused the will of the one to be evil. For if we say that the man himself 
+made his will evil, what was the man himself before his will was evil but 
+a good nature created by God, the unchangeable good? Here are two 
+men who, before the temptation, were alike in body and soul, and of 
+
+
+whom one yielded to the tempter who persuaded him, while the other 
+could not be persuaded to desire that lovely body which was equally 
+before the eyes of both. Shall we say of the successfully tempted man 
+that he corrupted his own will, since he was certainly good before his 
+will became bad? Then, why did he do so? Was it because his will was a 
+nature, or because it was made of nothing? We shall find that the latter 
+is the case. For if a nature is the cause of an evil will, what else can we 
+say than that evil arises from good, or that good is the cause of evil? And 
+how can it come to pass that a nature, good though mutable, should 
+produce any evil—that is to say, should make the will itself wicked? 
+
+
+7. That we ought not to expect to find any efficient cause of the evil will 
+
+
+Let no one, therefore, look for an efficient cause of the evil will; for it 
+is not efficient, but deficient, as the will itself is not an effecting of 
+something, but a defect. For defection from that which supremely is, to 
+that which has less of being—this is to begin to have an evil will. Now, 
+to seek to discover the causes of these defections—causes, as I have said, 
+not efficient, but deficient—is as if some one sought to see darkness, or 
+hear silence. Yet both of these are known by us, and the former by 
+means only of the eye, the latter only by the ear; but not by their 
+positive actuality,” but by their want of it. Let no one, then, seek to 
+know from me what I know that I do not know; unless he perhaps wishes 
+to learn to be ignorant of that of which all we know is, that it cannot be 
+known. For those things which are known not by their actuality, but by 
+their want of it, are known, if our expression may be allowed and 
+understood, by not knowing them, that by knowing them they may be 
+not known. For when the eyesight surveys objects that strike the sense, it 
+nowhere sees darkness but where it begins not to see. And so no other 
+sense but the ear can perceive silence, and yet it is only perceived by not 
+hearing. Thus, too, our mind perceives intelligible forms by 
+understanding them; but when they are deficient, it knows them by not 
+knowing them; for “who can understand defects?”8 
+
+
+8. Of the misdirected love whereby the will fell away from the immutable to the mutable good 
+
+
+This I do know, that the nature of God can never, nowhere, nowise be 
+defective, and that natures made of nothing can. These latter, however, 
+the more being they have, and the more good they do (for then they do 
+
+
+something positive), the more they have efficient causes; but in so far as 
+they are defective in being, and consequently do evil (for then what is 
+their work but vanity?), they have deficient causes. And I know likewise, 
+that the will could not become evil, were it unwilling to become so; and 
+therefore its failings are justly punished, being not necessary, but 
+voluntary. For its defections are not to evil things, but are themselves 
+evil; that is to say, are not towards things that are naturally and in 
+themselves evil, but the defection of the will is evil, because it is 
+contrary to the order of nature, and an abandonment of that which has 
+supreme being for that which has less. For avarice is not a fault inherent 
+in gold, but in the man who inordinately loves gold, to the detriment of 
+justice, which ought to be held in incomparably higher regard than gold. 
+Neither is luxury the fault of lovely and charming objects, but of the 
+heart that inordinately loves sensual pleasures, to the neglect of 
+temperance, which attaches us to objects more lovely in their 
+spirituality, and more delectable by their incorruptibility. Nor yet is 
+boasting the fault of human praise, but of the soul that is inordinately 
+fond of the applause of men, and that makes light of the voice of 
+conscience. Pride, too, is not the fault of him who delegates power, nor 
+of power itself, but of the soul that is inordinately enamoured of its own 
+power, and despises the more just dominion of a higher authority. 
+Consequently he who inordinately loves the good which any nature 
+possesses, even though he obtain it, himself becomes evil in the good, 
+and wretched because deprived of a greater good. 
+
+
+9. Whether the angels, besides receiving from God their nature, received from Him also their good 
+will by the Holy Spirit imbuing them with love 
+
+
+There is, then, no natural efficient cause, or, if I may be allowed the 
+expression, no essential cause, of the evil will, since itself is the origin of 
+evil in mutable spirits, by which the good of their nature is diminished 
+and corrupted; and the will is made evil by nothing else than defection 
+from God—a defection of which the cause, too, is certainly deficient. But 
+as to the good will, if we should say that there is no efficient cause of it, 
+we must beware of giving currency to the opinion that the good will of 
+the good angels is not created, but is co-eternal with God. For if they 
+themselves are created, how can we say that their good will was eternal? 
+But if created, was it created along with themselves, or did they exist for 
+
+
+a time without it? If along with themselves, then doubtless it was 
+created by Him who created them, and, as soon as ever they were 
+created, they attached themselves to Him who created them, with the 
+love He created in them. And they are separated from the society of the 
+rest, because they have continued in the same good will; while the 
+others have fallen away to another will, which is an evil one, by the very 
+fact of its being a falling away from the good; from which, we may add, 
+they would not have fallen away had they been unwilling to do so. But if 
+the good angels existed for a time without a good will, and produced it 
+in themselves without God’s interference, then it follows that they made 
+themselves better than He made them. Away with such a thought? For 
+without a good will, what were they but evil? Or if they were not evil, 
+because they had not an evil will any more than a good one (for they 
+had not fallen away from that which as yet they had not begun to 
+enjoy), certainly they were not the same, not so good, as when they 
+came to have a good will. Or if they could not make themselves better 
+than they were made by Him who is surpassed by none in His work, 
+then certainly, without His helpful operation, they could not come to 
+possess that good will which made them better. And though their good 
+will effected that they did not turn to themselves, who had a more 
+stinted existence, but to Him who supremely is, and that, being united to 
+Him, their own being was enlarged, and they lived a wise and blessed 
+life by His communications to them, what does this prove but that the 
+will, however good it might be, would have continued helplessly only to 
+desire Him, had not He who had made their nature out of nothing, and 
+yet capable of enjoying Him, first stimulated it to desire Him, and then 
+filled it with Himself, and so made it better? 
+
+Besides, this too has to be inquired into, whether, if the good angels 
+made their own will good, they did so with or without will? If without, 
+then it was not their doing. If with, was the will good or bad? If bad, 
+how could a bad will give birth to a good one? If good, then already 
+they had a good will. And who made this will, which already they had, 
+but He who created them with a good will, or with that chaste love by 
+which they cleaved to Him, in one and the same act creating their 
+nature, and endowing it with grace? And thus we are driven to believe 
+that the holy angels never existed without a good will or the love of 
+God. But the angels who, though created good, are yet evil now, became 
+
+
+so by their own will. And this will was not made evil by their good 
+nature, unless by its voluntary defection from good; for good is not the 
+cause of evil, but a defection from good is. These angels, therefore, 
+either received less of the grace of the divine love than those who 
+persevered in the same; or if both were created equally good, then, while 
+the one fell by their evil will, the others were more abundantly assisted, 
+and attained to that pitch of blessedness at which they became certain 
+they should never fall from it—as we have already shown in the 
+preceding book.? We must therefore acknowledge, with the praise due to 
+the Creator, that not only of holy men, but also of the holy angels, it can 
+be said that “the love of God is shed abroad in their hearts by the Holy 
+Ghost, which is given unto them.”1!0 And that not only of men, but 
+primarily and principally of angels it is true, as it is written, “It is good 
+to draw near to God.”!! And those who have this good in common, have, 
+both with Him to whom they draw near, and with one another, a holy 
+fellowship, and form one city of God—His living sacrifice, and His living 
+temple. And I see that, as I have now spoken of the rise of this city 
+among the angels, it is time to speak of the origin of that part of it which 
+is hereafter to be united to the immortal angels, and which at present is 
+being gathered from among mortal men, and is either sojourning on 
+earth, or, in the persons of those who have passed through death, is 
+resting in the secret receptacles and abodes of disembodied spirits. For 
+from one man, whom God created as the first, the whole human race 
+descended, according to the faith of Holy Scripture, which deservedly is 
+of wonderful authority among all nations throughout the world; since, 
+among its other true statements, it predicted, by its divine foresight, that 
+all nations would give credit to it. 
+
+
+10. Of the falseness of the history which allots many thousand years to the world’s past 
+
+
+Let us, then, omit the conjectures of men who know not what they 
+say, when they speak of the nature and origin of the human race. For 
+some hold the same opinion regarding men that they hold regarding the 
+world itself, that they have always been. Thus Apuleius says when he is 
+describing our race, “Individually they are mortal, but collectively, and 
+as a race, they are immortal.”!2 And when they are asked, how, if the 
+human race has always been, they vindicate the truth of their history, 
+which narrates who were the inventors, and what they invented, and 
+
+
+who first instituted the liberal studies and the other arts, and who first 
+inhabited this or that region, and this or that island? they reply,!3 that 
+most, if not all lands, were so desolated at intervals by fire and flood, 
+that men were greatly reduced in numbers, and from these, again, the 
+population was restored to its former numbers, and that thus there was 
+at intervals a new beginning made, and though those things which had 
+been interrupted and checked by the severe devastations were only 
+renewed, yet they seemed to be originated then; but that man could not 
+exist at all save as produced by man. But they say what they think, not 
+what they know. 
+
+They are deceived, too, by those highly mendacious documents which 
+profess to give the history of many thousand years, though, reckoning by 
+the sacred writings, we find that not 6000 years have yet passed.14 And, 
+not to spend many words in exposing the baselessness of these 
+documents, in which so many thousands of years are accounted for, nor 
+in proving that their authorities are totally inadequate, let me cite only 
+that letter which Alexander the Great wrote to his mother Olympias,15 
+giving her the narrative he had from an Egyptian priest, which he had 
+extracted from their sacred archives, and which gave an account of 
+kingdoms mentioned also by the Greek historians. In this letter of 
+Alexander’s a term of upwards of 5000 years is assigned to the kingdom 
+of Assyria; while in the Greek history only 1300 years are reckoned from 
+the reign of Bel himself, whom both Greek and Egyptian agree in 
+counting the first king of Assyria. Then to the empire of the Persians and 
+Macedonians this Egyptian assigned more than 8000 years, counting to 
+the time of Alexander, to whom he was speaking; while among the 
+Greeks, 485 years are assigned to the Macedonians down to the death of 
+Alexander, and to the Persians 233 years, reckoning to the termination 
+of his conquests. Thus these give a much smaller number of years than 
+the Egyptians; and indeed, though multiplied three times, the Greek 
+chronology would still be shorter. For the Egyptians are said to have 
+formerly reckoned only four months to their year;!© so that one year, 
+according to the fuller and truer computation now in use among them as 
+well as among ourselves, would comprehend three of their old years. But 
+not even thus, as I said, does the Greek history correspond with the 
+Egyptian in its chronology. And therefore the former must receive the 
+greater credit, because it does not exceed the true account of the 
+
+
+duration of the world as it is given by our documents, which are truly 
+sacred. Further, if this letter of Alexander, which has become so famous, 
+differs widely in this matter of chronology from the probable credible 
+account, how much less can we believe these documents which, though 
+full of fabulous and fictitious antiquities, they would fain oppose to the 
+authority of our well-known and divine books, which predicted that the 
+whole world would believe them, and which the whole world 
+accordingly has believed; which proved, too, that it had truly narrated 
+past events by its prediction of future events, which have so exactly 
+come to pass! 
+
+
+11. Of those who suppose that this world indeed is not eternal, but that either there are numberless 
+worlds, or that one and the same world is perpetually resolved into its elements, and renewed at 
+
+
+the conclusion of fixed cycles 
+
+
+There are some, again, who, though they do not suppose that this 
+world is eternal, are of opinion either that this is not the only world, but 
+that there are numberless worlds, or that indeed it is the only one, but 
+that it dies, and is born again at fixed intervals, and this times without 
+number;!7 but they must acknowledge that the human race existed 
+before there were other men to beget them. For they cannot suppose 
+that, if the whole world perish, some men would be left alive in the 
+world, as they might survive in floods and conflagrations, which those 
+other speculators suppose to be partial, and from which they can 
+therefore reasonably argue that a few men survived whose posterity 
+would renew the population; but as they believe that the world itself is 
+renewed out of its own material, so they must believe that out of its 
+elements the human race was produced, and then that the progeny of 
+mortals sprang like that of other animals from their parents. 
+
+
+12. How these persons are to be answered, who find fault with the creation of man on the score 
+
+
+of its recent date 
+
+
+As to those who are always asking why man was not created during 
+these countless ages of the infinitely extended past, and came into being 
+so lately that, according to Scripture, less than 6000 years have elapsed 
+since he began to be, I would reply to them regarding the creation of 
+man, just as I replied regarding the origin of the world to those who will 
+not believe that it is not eternal, but had a beginning, which even Plato 
+
+
+himself most plainly declares, though some think his statement was not 
+consistent with his real opinion.18 If it offends them that the time that 
+has elapsed since the creation of man is so short, and his years so few 
+according to our authorities, let them take this into consideration, that 
+nothing that has a limit is long, and that all the ages of time being finite, 
+are very little, or indeed nothing at all, when compared to the 
+interminable eternity. Consequently, if there had elapsed since the 
+creation of man, I do not say five or six, but even sixty or six hundred 
+thousand years, or sixty times as many, or six hundred or six hundred 
+thousand times as many, or this sum multiplied until it could no longer 
+be expressed in numbers, the same question could still be put, Why was 
+he not made before? For the past and boundless eternity during which 
+God abstained from creating man is so great, that, compare it with what 
+vast and untold number of ages you please, so long as there is a definite 
+conclusion of this term of time, it is not even as if you compared the 
+minutest drop of water with the ocean that everywhere flows around the 
+globe. For of these two, one indeed is very small, the other incomparably 
+vast, yet both are finite; but that space of time which starts from some 
+beginning, and is limited by some termination, be it of what extent it 
+may, if you compare it with that which has no beginning, I know not 
+whether to say we should count it the very minutest thing, or nothing at 
+all. For, take this limited time, and deduct from the end of it, one by 
+one, the briefest moments (as you might take day by day from a man’s 
+life, beginning at the day in which he now lives, back to that of his 
+birth), and though the number of moments you must subtract in this 
+backward movement be so great that no word can express it, yet this 
+subtraction will some time carry you to the beginning. But if you take 
+away from a time which has no beginning, I do not say brief moments 
+one by one, nor yet hours, or days, or months, or years even in 
+quantities, but terms of years so vast that they cannot be named by the 
+most skilful arithmetician—take away terms of years as vast as that 
+which we have supposed to be gradually consumed by the deduction of 
+moments—and take them away not once and again repeatedly, but 
+always, and what do you effect, what do you make by your deduction, 
+since you never reach the beginning which has no existence? Wherefore, 
+that which we now demand after five thousand odd years, our 
+descendants might with like curiosity demand after six hundred 
+
+
+thousand years, supposing these dying generations of men continue so 
+long to decay and be renewed, and supposing posterity continues as 
+weak and ignorant as ourselves. The same question might have been 
+asked by those who have lived before us, and while man was even newer 
+upon earth. The first man himself, in short, might, the day after, or the 
+very day of his creation, have asked why he was created no sooner. And 
+no matter at what earlier or later period he had been created, this 
+controversy about the commencement of this world’s history would have 
+had precisely the same difficulties as it has now. 
+
+
+13. Of the revolution of the ages, which some philosophers believe will bring all things round again, 
+
+
+after a certain fixed cycle, to the same order and form as at first 
+
+
+This controversy some philosophers have seen no other approved 
+means of solving than by introducing cycles of time, in which there 
+should be a constant renewal and repetition of the order of nature;19 and 
+they have therefore asserted that these cycles will ceaselessly recur, one 
+passing away and another coming, though they are not agreed as to 
+whether one permanent world shall pass through all these cycles, or 
+whether the world shall at fixed intervals die out, and be renewed so as 
+to exhibit a recurrence of the same phenomena—the things which have 
+been, and those which are to be, coinciding. And from this fantastic 
+vicissitude they exempt not even the immortal soul that has attained 
+wisdom, consigning it to a ceaseless transmigration between delusive 
+blessedness and real misery. For how can that be truly called blessed 
+which has no assurance of being so eternally, and is either in ignorance 
+of the truth, and blind to the misery that is approaching, or; knowing it, 
+is in misery and fear? Or if it passes to bliss, and leaves miseries for ever, 
+then there happens in time a new thing which time shall not end. Why 
+not, then, the world also? Why may not man, too, be a similar thing? So 
+that, by following the straight path of sound doctrine, we escape, I know 
+not what circuitous paths, discovered by deceiving and deceived sages. 
+
+Some, too, in advocating these recurring cycles that restore all things 
+to their original, cite in favour of their supposition what Solomon says in 
+the book of Ecclesiastes: “What is that which hath been? It is that which 
+shall be. And what is that which is done? It is that which shall be done: 
+and there is no new thing under the sun. Who can speak and say, See, 
+this is new? It hath been already of old time, which was before us.”20 
+
+
+This he said either of those things of which he had just been speaking— 
+the succession of generations, the orbit of the sun, the course of rivers— 
+or else of all kinds of creatures that are born and die. For men were 
+before us, are with us, and shall be after us; and so all living things and 
+all plants. Even monstrous and irregular productions, though differing 
+from one another, and though some are reported as solitary instances, 
+yet resemble one another generally, in so far as they are miraculous and 
+monstrous, and, in this sense, have been, and shall be, and are no new 
+and recent things under the sun. However, some would understand these 
+words as meaning that in the predestination of God all things have 
+already existed, and that thus there is no new thing under the sun. At all 
+events, far be it from any true believer to suppose that by these words of 
+Solomon those cycles are meant, in which, according to those 
+philosophers, the same periods and events of time are repeated; as if, for 
+example, the philosopher Plato, having taught in the school at Athens 
+which is called the Academy, so, numberless ages before, at long but 
+certain intervals, this same Plato, and the same school, and the same 
+disciples existed, and so also are to be repeated during the countless 
+cycles that are yet to be—far be it, I say, from us to believe this. For 
+once Christ died for our sins; and, rising from the dead, He dieth no 
+more. “Death hath no more dominion over Him;”2! and we ourselves 
+after the resurrection shall be “ever with the Lord,”22 to whom we now 
+say, as the sacred Psalmist dictates, “Thou shalt keep us, O Lord, Thou 
+shalt preserve us from this generation.”23 And that too which follows, is, 
+I think, appropriate enough: “The wicked walk in a circle;” not because 
+their life is to recur by means of these circles, which these philosophers 
+imagine, but because the path in which their false doctrine now runs is 
+circuitous. 
+
+
+14. Of the creation of the human race in time, and how this was effected without any new design 
+
+
+or change of purpose on God’s part 
+
+
+What wonder is it if, entangled in these circles, they find neither 
+entrance nor egress? For they know not how the human race, and this 
+mortal condition of ours, took its origin, nor how it will be brought to an 
+end, since they cannot penetrate the inscrutable wisdom of God. For, 
+though Himself eternal, and without beginning, yet He caused time to 
+have a beginning; and man, whom He had not previously made, He 
+
+
+made in time, not from a new and sudden resolution, but by His 
+unchangeable and eternal design. Who can search out the unsearchable 
+depth of this purpose, who can scrutinize the inscrutable wisdom, 
+where-with God, without change of will, created man, who had never 
+before been, and gave him an existence in time, and increased the 
+human race from one individual? For the Psalmist himself, when he had 
+first said, “Thou shalt keep us, O Lord, Thou shalt preserve us from this 
+generation for ever,” and had then rebuked those whose foolish and 
+impious doctrine preserves for the soul no eternal deliverance and 
+blessedness, adds immediately, “The wicked walk in a circle.” Then, as if 
+it were said to him, “What then do you believe, feel, know? Are we to 
+believe that it suddenly occurred to God to create man, whom He had 
+never before made in a past eternity—God, to whom nothing new can 
+occur, and in whom is no changeableness?” the Psalmist goes on to 
+reply, as if addressing God Himself, “According to the depth of Thy 
+wisdom Thou hast multiplied the children of men.” Let men, he seems to 
+say, fancy what they please, let them conjecture and dispute as seems 
+good to them, but Thou hast multiplied the children of men according to 
+the depth of thy wisdom, which no man can comprehend. For this is a 
+depth indeed, that God always has been, and that man, whom He had 
+never made before, He willed to make in time, and this without 
+changing His design and will. 
+
+
+15. Whether we are to believe that God, as He has always been sovereign Lord, has always had 
+creatures over whom He exercised His sovereignty; and in what sense we can say that the 
+
+
+creature has always been, and yet cannot say it is co-eternal 
+
+
+For my own part, indeed, as I dare not say that there ever was a time 
+when the Lord God was not Lord,?4 so I ought not to doubt that man had 
+no existence before time, and was first created in time. But when I 
+consider what God could be the Lord of, if there was not always some 
+creature, I shrink from making any assertion, remembering my own 
+insignificance, and that it is written, “What man is he that can know the 
+counsel of God? or who can think what the will of the Lord is? For the 
+thoughts of mortal men are timid, and our devices are but uncertain. For 
+the corruptible body presseth down the soul, and the earthly tabernacle 
+weigheth down the mind that museth upon many things.”25 Many things 
+certainly do I muse upon in this earthly tabernacle, because the one 
+
+
+thing which is true among the many, or beyond the many, I cannot find. 
+If, then, among these many thoughts, I say that there have always been 
+creatures for Him to be Lord of, who is always and ever has been Lord, 
+but that these creatures have not always been the same, but succeeded 
+one another (for we would not seem to say that any is coeternal with the 
+Creator, an assertion condemned equally by faith and sound reason), I 
+must take care lest I fall into the absurd and ignorant error of 
+maintaining that by these successions and changes mortal creatures have 
+always existed, whereas the immortal creatures had not begun to exist 
+until the date of our own world, when the angels were created; if at least 
+the angels are intended by that light which was first made, or, rather, by 
+that heaven of which it is said, “In the beginning God created the 
+heavens and the earth.”26 The angels at least did not exist before they 
+were created; for if we say that they have always existed, we shall seem 
+to make them co-eternal with the Creator. Again, if I say that the angels 
+were not created in time, but existed before all times, as those over 
+whom God, who has ever been Sovereign, exercised His sovereignty, 
+then I shall be asked whether, if they were created before all time, they, 
+being creatures, could possibly always exist. It may perhaps be replied, 
+Why not always, since that which is in all time may very properly be said 
+to be “always?” Now, so true is it that these angels have existed in all 
+time, that even before time was, they were created; if at least time began 
+with the heavens, and the angels existed before the heavens. And if time 
+was even before the heavenly bodies, not indeed marked by hours, days, 
+months, and years,—for these measures of time’s periods which are 
+commonly and properly called times, did manifestly begin with the 
+motion of the heavenly bodies, and so God said, when He appointed 
+them, “Let them be for signs, and for seasons, and for days, and for 
+years,”27—if, I say, time was before these heavenly bodies by some 
+changing movement, whose parts succeeded one another and could not 
+exist simultaneously, and if there was some such movement among the 
+angels which necessitated the existence of time, and that they from their 
+very creation should be subject to these temporal changes, then they 
+have existed in all time, for time came into being along with them. And 
+who will say that what was in all time, was not always? 
+
+But if I make such a reply, it will be said to me, How, then, are they 
+not co-eternal with the Creator, if He and they always have been? How 
+
+
+even can they be said to have been created, if we are to understand that 
+they have always existed? What shall we reply to this? Shall we say that 
+both statements are true? that they always have been, since they have 
+been in all time, they being created along with time, or time along with 
+them, and yet that also they were created? For, similarly, we will not 
+deny that time itself was created, though no one doubts that time has 
+been in all time; for if it has not been in all time, then there was a time 
+when there was no time. But the most foolish person could not make 
+such an assertion. For we can reasonably say there was a time when 
+Rome was not; there was a time when Jerusalem was not; there was a 
+time when Abraham was not; there was a time when man was not, and 
+so on: in fine, if the world was not made at the commencement of time, 
+but after some time had elapsed, we can say there was a time when the 
+world was not. But to say there was a time when time was not, is as 
+absurd as to say there was a man when there was no man; or, this world 
+was when this world was not. For if we are not referring to the same 
+object, the form of expression may be used, as, there was another man 
+when this man was not. Thus we can reasonably say there was another 
+time when this time was not; but not the merest simpleton could say 
+there was a time when there was no time. As, then, we say that time was 
+created, though we also say that it always has been, since in all time 
+time has been, so it does not follow that if the angels have always been, 
+they were therefore not created. For we say that they have always been, 
+because they have been in all time; and we say they have been in all 
+time, because time itself could no wise be without them. For where there 
+is no creature whose changing movements admit of succession, there 
+cannot be time at all. And consequently, even if they have always 
+existed, they were created; neither, if they have always existed, are they 
+therefore co-eternal with the Creator. For He has always existed in 
+unchangeable eternity; while they were created, and are said to have 
+been always, because they have been in all time, time being impossible 
+without the creature. But time passing away by its changefulness, cannot 
+be co-eternal with changeless eternity. And consequently, though the 
+immortality of the angels does not pass in time, does not become past as 
+if now it were not, nor has a future as if it were not yet, still their 
+movements, which are the basis of time, do pass from future to past; and 
+therefore they cannot be co-eternal with the Creator, in whose 
+
+
+movement we cannot say that there has been that which now is not or 
+shall be that which is not yet. Wherefore, if God always has been Lord, 
+He has always had creatures under His dominion,—creatures, however, 
+not begotten of Him, but created by Him out of nothing; nor co-eternal 
+with Him, for He was before them, though at no time without them, 
+because He preceded them, not by the lapse of time, but by His abiding 
+eternity. But if I make this reply to those who demand how He was 
+always Creator, always Lord, if there were not always a subject creation; 
+or how this was created, and not rather co-eternal with its Creator, if it 
+always was, I fear I may be accused of recklessly affirming what I know 
+not, instead of teaching what I know. I return, therefore, to that which 
+our Creator has seen fit that we should know; and those things which He 
+has allowed the abler men to know in this life, or has reserved to be 
+known in the next by the perfected saints, I acknowledge to be beyond 
+my capacity. But I have thought it right to discuss these matters without 
+making positive assertions, that they who read may be warned to abstain 
+from hazardous questions, and may not deem themselves fit for 
+everything. Let them rather endeavour to obey the wholesome injunction 
+of the apostle, when he says, “For I say, through the grace given unto 
+me, to every man that is among you, not to think of himself more highly 
+than he ought to think; but to think soberly, according as God hath dealt 
+to every man the measure of faith.”28 For if an infant receive 
+nourishment suited to its strength, it becomes capable, as it grows, of 
+taking more; but if its strength and capacity be overtaxed, it dwines 
+away in place of growing. 
+
+
+16. How we are to understand God’s promise of life eternal, which was uttered before the 
+
+
+“eternal times” 
+
+
+I own that I do not know what ages passed before the human race was 
+created, yet I have no doubt that no created thing is co-eternal with the 
+Creator. But even the apostle speaks of time as eternal, and this with 
+reference, not to the future, but, which is more surprising, to the past. 
+For he says, “In hope of eternal life, which God that cannot lie promised 
+before the eternal times, but hath in due times manifested His word.”29 
+You see he says that in the past there have been eternal times, which, 
+however, were not co-eternal with God. And since God before these 
+eternal times not only existed, but also “promised” life eternal, which He 
+
+
+manifested in its own times (that is to say, in due times), what else is 
+this than His word? For this is life eternal. But then, how did He 
+promise; for the promise was made to men, and yet they had no 
+existence before eternal times? Does this not mean that, in His own 
+eternity, and in His co-eternal word, that which was to be in its own 
+time was already predestined and fixed? 
+
+
+17. What defense is made by sound faith regarding God’s unchangeable counsel and will, against 
+the reasonings of those who hold that the works of God are eternally repeated in revolving 
+
+
+cycles that restore all things as they were 
+
+
+Of this, too, I have no doubt, that before the first man was created, 
+there never had been a man at all, neither this same man himself 
+recurring by I know not what cycles, and having made I know not how 
+many revolutions, nor any other of similar nature. From this belief I am 
+not frightened by philosophical arguments, among which that is 
+reckoned the most acute which is founded on the assertion that the 
+infinite cannot be comprehended by any mode of knowledge. 
+Consequently, they argue, God has in His own mind finite conceptions of 
+all finite things which He makes. Now it cannot be supposed that His 
+goodness was ever idle; for if it were, there should be ascribed to Him an 
+awakening to activity in time, from a past eternity of inactivity, as if He 
+repented of an idleness that had no beginning, and proceeded, therefore, 
+to make a beginning of work. This being the case, they say it must be 
+that the same things are always repeated, and that as they pass, so they 
+are destined always to return, whether amidst all these changes the 
+world remains the same,—the world which has always been, and yet was 
+created,—or that the world in these revolutions is perpetually dying out 
+and being renewed; otherwise, if we point to a time when the works of 
+God were begun, it would be believed that He considered His past 
+eternal leisure to be inert and indolent, and therefore condemned and 
+altered it as displeasing to Himself. Now if God is supposed to have been 
+indeed always making temporal things, but different from one another, 
+and one after the other, so that He thus came at last to make man, whom 
+He had never made before, then it may seem that He made man not with 
+knowledge (for they suppose no knowledge can comprehend the infinite 
+succession of creatures), but at the dictate of the hour, as it struck Him 
+at the moment, with a sudden and accidental change of mind. On the 
+
+
+other hand, say they, if those cycles be admitted, and if we suppose that 
+the same temporal things are repeated, while the world either remains 
+identical through all these rotations, or else dies away and is renewed, 
+then there is ascribed to God neither the slothful ease of a past eternity, 
+nor a rash and unforeseen creation. And if the same things be not thus 
+repeated in cycles, then they cannot by any science or prescience be 
+comprehended in their endless diversity. Even though reason could not 
+refute, faith would smile at these argumentations, with which the 
+godless endeavour to turn our simple piety from the right way, that we 
+may walk with them “in a circle.” But by the help of the Lord our God, 
+even reason, and that readily enough, shatters these revolving circles 
+which conjecture frames. For that which specially leads these men astray 
+to prefer their own circles to the straight path of truth, is, that they 
+measure by their own human, changeable, and narrow intellect the 
+divine mind, which is absolutely unchangeable, infinitely capacious, 
+and, without succession of thought, counting all things without number. 
+So that saying of the apostle comes true of them, for, “comparing 
+themselves with themselves, they do not understand.”3° For because 
+they do, in virtue of a new purpose, whatever new thing has occurred to 
+them to be done (their minds being changeable), they conclude it is so 
+with God; and thus compare, not God,—for they cannot conceive God, 
+but think of one like themselves when they think of Him,—not God, but 
+themselves, and not with Him, but with themselves. For our part, we 
+dare not believe that God is affected in one way when He works, in 
+another when He rests. Indeed, to say that He is affected at all, is an 
+abuse of language, since it implies that there comes to be something in 
+His nature which was not there before. For he who is affected is acted 
+upon, and whatever is acted upon is changeable. In His leisure, 
+therefore, is no laziness, indolence, inactivity; as in His work is no 
+labour, effort, industry. He can act while He reposes, and repose while 
+He acts. He can begin a new work with (not a new, but) an eternal 
+design; and what He has not made before, He does not now begin to 
+make because He repents of His former repose. But when one speaks of 
+His former repose and subsequent operation (and I know not how men 
+can understand these things), this “former” and “subsequent” are applied 
+only to the things created, which formerly did not exist, and 
+subsequently came into existence. But in God the former purpose is not 
+
+
+altered and obliterated by the subsequent and different purpose, but by 
+one and the same eternal and unchangeable will He effected regarding 
+the things He created, both that formerly, so long as they were not, they 
+should not be, and that subsequently, when they began to be, they 
+should come into existence. And thus, perhaps, He would show in a very 
+striking way, to those who have eyes for such things, how independent 
+He is of what He makes, and how it is of His own gratuitous goodness 
+He creates, since from eternity He dwelt without creatures in no less 
+perfect a blessedness. 
+
+
+18. Against those who assert that things that are infinite?! cannot be comprehended by the 
+knowledge of God 
+
+
+As for their other assertion, that God’s knowledge cannot comprehend 
+things infinite, it only remains for them to affirm, in order that they may 
+sound the depths of their impiety, that God does not know all numbers. 
+For it is very certain that they are infinite; since, no matter at what 
+number you suppose an end to be made, this number can be, I will not 
+say, increased by the addition of one more, but however great it be, and 
+however vast be the multitude of which it is the rational and scientific 
+expression, it can still be not only doubled, but even multiplied. 
+Moreover, each number is so defined by its own properties, that no two 
+numbers are equal. They are therefore both unequal and different from 
+one another; and while they are simply finite, collectively they are 
+infinite. Does God, therefore, not know numbers on account of this 
+infinity; and does His knowledge extend only to a certain height in 
+numbers, while of the rest He is ignorant? Who is so left to himself as to 
+say so? Yet they can hardly pretend to put numbers out of the question, 
+or maintain that they have nothing to do with the knowledge of God; for 
+Plato,32 their great authority, represents God as framing the world on 
+numerical principles; and in our books also it is said to God, “Thou hast 
+ordered all things in number, and measure, and weight.”33 The prophet 
+also says, “Who bringeth out their host by number.”34 And the Saviour 
+says in the Gospel, “The very hairs of your head are all numbered.”35 Far 
+be it, then, from us to doubt that all number is known to Him “whose 
+understanding,” according to the Psalmist, “is infinite.”36 The infinity of 
+number, though there be no numbering of infinite numbers, is yet not 
+incomprehensible by Him whose understanding is infinite. And thus, if 
+
+
+everything which is comprehended is defined or made finite by the 
+comprehension of him who knows it, then all infinity is in some 
+ineffable way made finite to God, for it is comprehensible by His 
+knowledge. Wherefore, if the infinity of numbers cannot be infinite to 
+the knowledge of God, by which it is comprehended, what are we poor 
+creatures that we should presume to fix limits to His knowledge, and say 
+that unless the same temporal things be repeated by the same periodic 
+revolutions, God cannot either foreknow His creatures that He may make 
+them, or know them when He has made them? God, whose knowledge is 
+simply manifold, and uniform in its variety, comprehends all 
+incomprehensibles with so incomprehensible a comprehension, that 
+though He willed always to make His later works novel and unlike what 
+went before them, He could not produce them without order and 
+foresight, nor conceive them suddenly, but by His eternal 
+foreknowledge. 
+
+
+19. Of worlds without end, or ages of ages37 
+
+
+I do not presume to determine whether God does so, and whether 
+these times which are called “ages of ages” are joined together in a 
+continuous series, and succeed one another with a regulated diversity, 
+and leave exempt from their vicissitudes only those who are freed from 
+their misery, and abide without end in a blessed immortality; or whether 
+these are called “ages of ages,” that we may understand that the ages 
+remain unchangeable in God’s unwavering wisdom, and are the efficient 
+causes, as it were, of those ages which are being spent in time. Possibly 
+“ages” is used for “age,” so that nothing else is meant by “ages of ages” 
+than by “age of age,” as nothing else is meant by “heavens of heavens” 
+than by “heaven of heaven.” For God called the firmament, above which 
+are the waters, “Heaven,” and yet the psalm says, “Let the waters that 
+are above the heavens praise the name of the Lord.”38 Which of these 
+two meanings we are to attach to “ages of ages,” or whether there is not 
+some other and better meaning still, is a very profound question; and the 
+subject we are at present handling presents no obstacle to our 
+meanwhile deferring the discussion of it, whether we may be able to 
+determine anything about it, or may only be made more cautious by its 
+further treatment, so as to be deterred from making any rash 
+affirmations in a matter of such obscurity. For at present we are 
+
+
+disputing the opinion that affirms the existence of those periodic 
+revolutions by which the same things are always recurring at intervals of 
+time. Now, whichever of these suppositions regarding the “ages of ages” 
+be the true one, it avails nothing for the substantiating of those cycles; 
+for whether the ages of ages be not a repetition of the same world, but 
+different worlds succeeding one another in a regulated connection, the 
+ransomed souls abiding in well-assured bliss without any recurrence of 
+misery, or whether the ages of ages be the eternal causes which rule 
+what shall be and is in time, it equally follows, that those cycles which 
+bring round the same things have no existence; and nothing more 
+thoroughly explodes them than the fact of the eternal life of the saints. 
+
+
+20. Of the impiety of those who assert that the souls which enjoy true and perfect blessedness, must 
+
+
+yet again and again in these periodic revolutions return to labour and misery 
+
+
+What pious ears could bear to hear that after a life spent in so many 
+and severe distresses (if, indeed, that should be called a life at all which 
+is rather a death, so utter that the love of this present death makes us 
+fear that death which delivers us from it), that after evils so disastrous, 
+and miseries of all kinds have at length been expiated and finished by 
+the help of true religion and wisdom, and when we have thus attained to 
+the vision of God, and have entered into bliss by the contemplation of 
+spiritual light and participation in His unchangeable immortality, which 
+we burn to attain,—that we must at some time lose all this, and that 
+they who do lose it are cast down from that eternity, truth, and felicity 
+to infernal mortality and shameful foolishness, and are involved in 
+accursed woes, in which God is lost, truth held in detestation, and 
+happiness sought in iniquitous impurities? and that this will happen 
+endlessly again and again, recurring at fixed intervals, and in regularly 
+returning periods? and that this everlasting and ceaseless revolution of 
+definite cycles, which remove and restore true misery and deceitful bliss 
+in turn, is contrived in order that God may be able to know His own 
+works, since on the one hand He cannot rest from creating, and on the 
+other, cannot know the infinite number of His creatures, if He always 
+makes creatures? Who, I say, can listen to such things? Who can accept 
+or suffer them to be spoken? Were they true, it were not only more 
+prudent to keep silence regarding them, but even (to express myself as 
+best I can) it were the part of wisdom not to know them. For if in the 
+
+
+future world we shall not remember these things, and by this oblivion be 
+blessed, why should we now increase our misery, already burdensome 
+enough, by the knowledge of them? If, on the other hand, the knowledge 
+of them will be forced upon us hereafter, now at least let us remain in 
+ignorance, that in the present expectation we may enjoy a blessedness 
+which the future reality is not to bestow; since in this life we are 
+expecting to obtain life everlasting, but in the world to come are to 
+discover it to be blessed, but not everlasting. 
+
+And if they maintain that no one can attain to the blessedness of the 
+world to come, unless in this life he has been indoctrinated in those 
+cycles in which bliss and misery relieve one another, how do they avow 
+that the more a man loves God, the more readily he attains to 
+blessedness—they who teach what paralyzes love itself? For who would 
+not be more remiss and lukewarm in his love for a person whom he 
+thinks he shall be forced to abandon, and whose truth and wisdom he 
+shall come to hate; and this, too, after he has quite attained to the 
+utmost and most blissful knowledge of Him that he is capable of? Can 
+any one be faithful in his love, even to a human friend, if he knows that 
+he is destined to become his enemy?39 God forbid that there be any truth 
+in an opinion which threatens us with a real misery that is never to end, 
+but is often and endlessly to be interrupted by intervals of fallacious 
+happiness. For what happiness can be more fallacious and false than that 
+in whose blaze of truth we yet remain ignorant that we shall be 
+miserable, or in whose most secure citadel we yet fear that we shall be 
+so? For if, on the one hand, we are to be ignorant of coming calamity, 
+then our present misery is not so shortsighted, for it is assured of coming 
+bliss. If, on the other hand, the disaster that threatens is not concealed 
+from us in the world to come, then the time of misery which is to be at 
+last exchanged for a state of blessedness, is spent by the soul more 
+happily than its time of happiness, which is to end in a return to misery. 
+And thus our expectation of unhappiness is happy, but of happiness 
+unhappy. And therefore, as we here suffer present ills, and hereafter fear 
+ills that are imminent, it were truer to say that we shall always be 
+miserable, than that we can some time be happy. 
+
+But these things are declared to be false by the loud testimony of 
+religion and truth; for religion truthfully promises a true blessedness, of 
+which we shall be eternally assured, and which cannot be interrupted by 
+
+
+any disaster. Let us therefore keep to the straight path, which is Christ, 
+and, with Him as our Guide and Saviour, let us turn away in heart and 
+mind from the unreal and futile cycles of the godless. Porphyry, Platonist 
+though he was, abjured the opinion of his school, that in these cycles 
+souls are ceaselessly passing away and returning, either being struck 
+with the extravagance of the idea, or sobered by his knowledge of 
+Christianity. As I mentioned in the tenth book,*° he preferred saying that 
+the soul, as it had been sent into the world that it might know evil, and 
+be purged and delivered from it, was never again exposed to such an 
+experience after it had once returned to the Father. And if he abjured the 
+tenets of his school, how much more ought we Christians to abominate 
+and avoid an opinion so unfounded and hostile to our faith? But having 
+disposed of these cycles and escaped out of them, no necessity compels 
+us to suppose that the human race had no beginning in time, on the 
+ground that there is nothing new in nature which, by I know not what 
+cycles, has not at some previous period existed, and is not hereafter to 
+exist again. For if the soul, once delivered, as it never was before, is 
+never to return to misery, then there happens in its experience 
+something which never happened before; and this, indeed, something of 
+the greatest consequence, to wit, the secure entrance into eternal felicity. 
+And if in an immortal nature there can occur a novelty, which never has 
+been, nor ever shall be, reproduced by any cycle, why is it disputed that 
+the same may occur in mortal natures? If they maintain that blessedness 
+is no new experience to the soul, but only a return to that state in which 
+it has been eternally, then at least its deliverance from misery is 
+something new, since, by their own showing, the misery from which it is 
+delivered is itself, too, a new experience. And if this new experience fell 
+out by accident, and was not embraced in the order of things appointed 
+by Divine Providence, then where are those determinate and measured 
+cycles in which no new thing happens, but all things are reproduced as 
+they were before? If, however, this new experience was embraced in that 
+providential order of nature (whether the soul was exposed to the evil of 
+this world for the sake of discipline, or fell into it by sin), then it is 
+possible for new things to happen which never happened before, and 
+which yet are not extraneous to the order of nature. And if the soul is 
+able by its own imprudence to create for itself a new misery, which was 
+not unforeseen by the Divine Providence, but was provided for in the 
+
+
+order of nature along with the deliverance from it, how can we, even 
+with all the rashness of human vanity, presume to deny that God can 
+create new things—new to the world, but not to Him—which He never 
+before created, but yet foresaw from all eternity? If they say that it is 
+indeed true that ransomed souls return no more to misery, but that even 
+so no new thing happens, since there always have been, now are, and 
+ever shall be a succession of ransomed souls, they must at least grant 
+that in this case there are new souls to whom the misery and the 
+deliverance from it are new. For if they maintain that those souls out of 
+which new men are daily being made (from whose bodies, if they have 
+lived wisely, they are so delivered that they never return to misery) are 
+not new, but have existed from eternity, they must logically admit that 
+they are infinite. For however great a finite number of souls there were, 
+that would not have sufficed to make perpetually new men from 
+eternity,—men whose souls were to be eternally freed from this mortal 
+state, and never afterwards to return to it. And our philosophers will find 
+it hard to explain how there is an infinite number of souls in an order of 
+nature which they require shall be finite, that it may be known by God. 
+
+And now that we have exploded these cycles which were supposed to 
+bring back the soul at fixed periods to the same miseries, what can seem 
+more in accordance with godly reason than to believe that it is possible 
+for God both to create new things never before created, and in doing so, 
+to preserve His will unaltered? But whether the number of eternally 
+redeemed souls can be continually increased or not, let the philosophers 
+themselves decide, who are so subtle in determining where infinity 
+cannot be admitted. For our own part, our reasoning holds in either 
+case. For if the number of souls can be indefinitely increased, what 
+reason is there to deny that what had never before been created, could 
+be created? since the number of ransomed souls never existed before, 
+and has yet not only been once made, but will never cease to be anew 
+coming into being. If, on the other hand, it be more suitable that the 
+number of eternally ransomed souls be definite, and that this number 
+will never be increased, yet this number, whatever it be, did assuredly 
+never exist before, and it cannot increase, and reach the amount it 
+signifies, without having some beginning; and this beginning never 
+before existed. That this beginning, therefore, might be, the first man 
+was created. 
+
+
+21. That there was created at first but one individual, and that the human race was created in 
+him 
+
+Now that we have solved, as well as we could, this very difficult 
+question about the eternal God creating new things, without any novelty 
+of will, it is easy to see how much better it is that God was pleased to 
+produce the human race from the one individual whom He created, than 
+if He had originated it in several men. For as to the other animals, He 
+created some solitary, and naturally seeking lonely places—as the eagles, 
+kites, lions, wolves, and such like; others gregarious, which herd 
+together, and prefer to live in company—as pigeons, starlings, stags, and 
+little fallow deer, and the like: but neither class did He cause to be 
+propagated from individuals, but called into being several at once. Man, 
+on the other hand, whose nature was to be a mean between the angelic 
+and bestial, He created in such sort, that if he remained in subjection to 
+His Creator as his rightful Lord, and piously kept His commandments, he 
+should pass into the company of the angels, and obtain, without the 
+intervention of death,41 a blessed and endless immortality; but if he 
+offended the Lord his God by a proud and disobedient use of his free 
+will, he should become subject to death, and live as the beasts do—the 
+slave of appetite, and doomed to eternal punishment after death. And 
+therefore God created only one single man, not, certainly, that he might 
+be a solitary bereft of all society, but that by this means the unity of 
+society and the bond of concord might be more effectually commended 
+to him, men being bound together not only by similarity of nature, but 
+by family affection. And indeed He did not even create the woman that 
+was to be given him as his wife, as he created the man, but created her 
+out of the man, that the whole human race might derive from one man. 
+
+
+22. That God foreknew that the first man would sin, and that He at the same time foresaw how 
+large a multitude of godly persons would by His grace be translated to the fellowship of the 
+angels 
+
+
+And God was not ignorant that man would sin, and that, being himself 
+made subject now to death, he would propagate men doomed to die, and 
+that these mortals would run to such enormities in sin, that even the 
+beasts devoid of rational will, and who were created in numbers from 
+the waters and the earth, would live more securely and peaceably with 
+their own kind than men, who had been propagated from one individual 
+
+
+for the very purpose of commending concord. For not even lions or 
+dragons have ever waged with their kind such wars as men have waged 
+with one another.42 But God foresaw also that by His grace a people 
+would be called to adoption, and that they, being justified by the 
+remission of their sins, would be united by the Holy Ghost to the holy 
+angels in eternal peace, the last enemy, death, being destroyed; and He 
+knew that this people would derive profit from the consideration that 
+God had caused all men to be derived from one, for the sake of showing 
+how highly He prizes unity in a multitude. 
+
+
+23. Of the nature of the human soul created in the image of God 
+
+
+God, then, made man in His own image. For He created for him a soul 
+endowed with reason and intelligence, so that he might excel all the 
+creatures of earth, air, and sea, which were not so gifted. And when He 
+had formed the man out of the dust of the earth, and had willed that his 
+soul should be such as I have said—whether He had already made it, 
+and now by breathing imparted it to man, or rather made it by 
+breathing, so that that breath which God made by breathing (for what 
+else is “to breathe” than to make breath?) is the soul,42,—He made also a 
+wife for him, to aid him in the work of generating his kind, and her He 
+formed of a bone taken out of the man’s side, working in a divine 
+manner. For we are not to conceive of this work in a carnal fashion, as if 
+God wrought as we commonly see artisans, who use their hands, and 
+material furnished to them, that by their artistic skill they may fashion 
+some material object. God’s hand is God’s power; and He, working 
+invisibly, effects visible results. But this seems fabulous rather than true 
+to men, who measure by customary and everyday works the power and 
+wisdom of God, whereby He understands and produces without seeds 
+even seeds themselves; and because they cannot understand the things 
+which at the beginning were created, they are sceptical regarding them 
+—as if the very things which they do know about human propagation, 
+conceptions and births, would seem less incredible if told to those who 
+had no experience of them; though these very things, too, are attributed 
+by many rather to physical and natural causes than to the work of the 
+divine mind. 
+
+
+24. Whether the angels can be said to be the creators of any, even the least creature 
+
+
+But in this book we have nothing to do with those who do not believe 
+that the divine mind made or cares for this world. As for those who 
+believe their own Plato, that all mortal animals—among whom man 
+holds the pre-eminent place, and is near to the gods themselves—were 
+created not by that most high God who made the world, but by other 
+lesser gods created by the Supreme, and exercising a delegated power 
+under His control—if only those persons be delivered from the 
+superstition which prompts them to seek a plausible reason for paying 
+divine honours and sacrificing to these gods as their creators, they will 
+easily be disentangled also from this their error. For it is blasphemy to 
+believe or to say (even before it can be understood) that any other than 
+God is creator of any nature, be it never so small and mortal. And as for 
+the angels, whom those Platonists prefer to call gods, although they do, 
+so far as they are permitted and commissioned, aid in the production of 
+the things around us, yet not on that account are we to call them 
+creators, any more than we call gardeners the creators of fruits and 
+trees. 
+
+
+25. That God alone is the Creator of every kind of creature, whatever its nature or form 
+
+
+For whereas there is one form which is given from without to every 
+bodily substance—such as the form which is constructed by potters and 
+smiths, and that class of artists who paint and fashion forms like the 
+body of animals—but another and internal form which is not itself 
+constructed, but, as the efficient cause, produces not only the natural 
+bodily forms, but even the life itself of the living creatures, and which 
+proceeds from the secret and hidden choice of an intelligent and living 
+nature—let that first-mentioned form be attributed to every artificer, but 
+this latter to one only, God, the Creator and Originator who made the 
+world itself and the angels, without the help of world or angels. For the 
+same divine and, so to speak, creative energy, which cannot be made, 
+but makes, and which gave to the earth and sky their roundness—this 
+same divine, effective, and creative energy gave their roundness to the 
+eye and to the apple; and the other natural objects which we anywhere 
+see, received also their form, not from without, but from the secret and 
+profound might of the Creator, who said, “Do not I fill heaven and 
+earth?”44 and whose wisdom it is that “reacheth from one end to another 
+mightily; and sweetly doth she order all things.”45 Wherefore I know not 
+
+
+what kind of aid the angels, themselves created first, afforded to the 
+Creator in making other things. I cannot ascribe to them what perhaps 
+they cannot do, neither ought I to deny them such faculty as they have. 
+But, by their leave, I attribute the creating and originating work which 
+gave being to all natures to God, to whom they themselves thankfully 
+ascribe their existence. We do not call gardeners the creators of their 
+fruits, for we read, “Neither is he that planteth anything, neither he that 
+watereth, but God that giveth the increase.”46 Nay, not even the earth 
+itself do we call a creator, though she seems to be the prolific mother of 
+all things which she aids in germinating and bursting forth from the 
+seed, and which she keeps rooted in her own breast; for we likewise 
+read, “God giveth it a body, as it hath pleased Him, and to every seed his 
+own body.”47 We ought not even to call a woman the creatress of her 
+own offspring; for He rather is its creator who said to His servant, 
+“Before I formed thee in the womb, I knew thee.”48 And although the 
+various mental emotions of a pregnant woman do produce in the fruit of 
+her womb similar qualities—as Jacob with his peeled wands caused 
+piebald sheep to be produced—yet the mother as little creates her 
+offspring, as she created herself. Whatever bodily or seminal causes, 
+then, may be used for the production of things, either by the co- 
+operation of angels, men, or the lower animals, or by sexual generation; 
+and whatever power the desires and mental emotions of the mother have 
+to produce in the tender and plastic foetus, corresponding lineaments and 
+colours; yet the natures themselves, which are thus variously affected, 
+are the production of none but the most high God. It is His occult power 
+which pervades all things, and is present in all without being 
+contaminated, which gives being to all that is, and modifies and limits 
+its existence; so that without Him it would not be thus or thus, nor 
+would have any being at all.49 If, then, in regard to that outward form 
+which the workman’s hand imposes on his work, we do not say that 
+Rome and Alexandria were built by masons and architects, but by the 
+kings by whose will, plan, and resources they were built, so that the one 
+has Romulus, the other Alexander, for its founder; with how much 
+greater reason ought we to say that God alone is the Author of all 
+natures, since He neither uses for His work any material which was not 
+made by Him, nor any workmen who were not also made by Him, and 
+since, if He were, so to speak, to withdraw from created things His 
+
+
+creative power, they would straightway relapse into the nothingness in 
+which they were before they were created? “Before,” I mean, in respect 
+of eternity, not of time. For what other creator could there be of time, 
+than He who created those things whose movements make time?50° 
+
+
+26. Of that opinion of the Platonists, that the angels were themselves indeed created by God, but 
+that afterwards they created man’s body 
+
+
+It is obvious, that in attributing the creation of the other animals to 
+those inferior gods who were made by the Supreme, he meant it to be 
+understood that the immortal part was taken from God Himself, and that 
+these minor creators added the mortal part; that is to say, he meant 
+them to be considered the creators of our bodies, but not of our souls. 
+But since Porphyry maintains that if the soul is to be purified, all 
+entanglement with a body must be escaped from; and at the same time 
+agrees with Plato and the Platonists in thinking that those who have not 
+spent a temperate and honourable life return to mortal bodies as their 
+punishment (to bodies of brutes in Plato’s opinion, to human bodies in 
+Porphyry’s); it follows that those whom they would have us worship as 
+our parents and authors, that they may plausibly call them gods, are, 
+after all, but the forgers of our fetters and chains—not our creators, but 
+our jailers and turnkeys, who lock us up in the most bitter and 
+melancholy house of correction. Let the Platonists, then, either cease 
+menacing us with our bodies as the punishment of our souls, or 
+preaching that we are to worship as gods those whose work upon us 
+they exhort us by all means in our power to avoid and escape from. But, 
+indeed, both opinions are quite false. It is false that souls return again to 
+this life to be punished; and it is false that there is any other creator of 
+anything in heaven or earth, than He who made the heaven and the 
+earth. For if we live in a body only to expiate our sins, how says Plato in 
+another place, that the world could not have been the most beautiful and 
+good, had it not been filled with all kinds of creatures, mortal and 
+immortal?5! But if our creation even as mortals be a divine benefit, how 
+is it a punishment to be restored to a body, that is, to a divine benefit? 
+And if God, as Plato continually maintains, embraced in His eternal 
+intelligence the ideas both of the universe and of all the animals, how, 
+then, should He not with His own hand make them all? Could He be 
+unwilling to be the constructor of works, the idea and plan of which 
+
+
+called for His ineffable and ineffably to be praised intelligence? 
+
+
+27. That the whole plenitude of the human race was embraced in the first man, and that God there 
+saw the portion of it which was to be honoured and rewarded, and that which was to be 
+
+
+condemned and punished 
+
+
+With good cause, therefore, does the true religion recognise and 
+proclaim that the same God who created the universal cosmos, created 
+also all the animals, souls as well as bodies. Among the terrestrial 
+animals man was made by Him in His own image, and, for the reason I 
+have given, was made one individual, though he was not left solitary. 
+For there is nothing so social by nature, so unsocial by its corruption, as 
+this race. And human nature has nothing more appropriate, either for 
+the prevention of discord, or for the healing of it, where it exists, than 
+the remembrance of that first parent of us all, whom God was pleased to 
+create alone, that all men might be derived from one, and that they 
+might thus be admonished to preserve unity among their whole 
+multitude. But from the fact that the woman was made for him from his 
+side, it was plainly meant that we should learn how dear the bond 
+between man and wife should be. These works of God do certainly seem 
+extraordinary, because they are the first works. They who do not believe 
+them, ought not to believe any prodigies; for these would not be called 
+prodigies did they not happen out of the ordinary course of nature. But, 
+is it possible that anything should happen in vain, however hidden be its 
+cause, in so grand a government of divine providence? One of the sacred 
+Psalmists says, “Come, behold the works of the Lord, what prodigies He 
+hath wrought in the earth.”52 Why God made woman out of man’s side, 
+and what this first prodigy prefigured, I shall, with God’s help, tell in 
+another place. But at present, since this book must be concluded, let us 
+merely say that in this first man, who was created in the beginning, 
+there was laid the foundation, not indeed evidently, but in God’s 
+foreknowledge, of these two cities or societies, so far as regards the 
+human race. For from that man all men were to be derived—some of 
+them to be associated with the good angels in their reward, others with 
+the wicked in punishment; all being ordered by the secret yet just 
+judgment of God. For since it is written, “All the paths of the Lord are 
+mercy and truth,”53 neither can His grace be unjust, nor His justice 
+cruel. 
+
+
+1 Vitium: perhaps “fault” most nearly embraces all the uses of this word. 
+2 Essentia. 
+
+3 Ex, iii. 14. 
+
+4 Quintilian calls it dura. 
+
+
+° With this may be compared the argument of Socrates in the Gorgias, in which it is shown that 
+to escape punishment is worse than to suffer it, and that the greatest of evils is to do wrong and 
+
+
+not be chastised. 
+6 Eccles. x. 13. 
+
+7 Specie. 
+
+8 Ps, xix. 12. 
+
+9C. 13. 
+
+10 Rom. v. 5. 
+
+11 Ps, lxxiii. 28. 
+12 De Deo Socratis. 
+
+
+13 Augustine no doubt refers to the interesting account given by Critias, near the beginning of the 
+Timæus, of the conversation of Solon with the Egyptian priests. 
+
+14 Augustine here follows the chronology of Eusebius, who reckons 5611 years from the Creation 
+to the taking of Rome by the Goths; adopting the Septuagint version of the patriarchal ages. 
+
+15 See above, viii. 5. 
+
+16 It is not apparent to what Augustine refers. The Arcadians, according to Macrobius (Saturn. i. 
+7), divided their year into three months, and the Egyptians divided theirs into three seasons: 
+each of these seasons having four months, it is possible that Augustine may have referred to this. 
+
+
+See Wilkinson’s excursus on the Egyptian year, in Rawlinson’s Herod. Book ii. 
+
+
+17 The former opinion was held by Democritus and his disciple Epicurus; the latter by Heraclitus, 
+
+
+who supposed that “God amused Himself” by thus renewing worlds. 
+
+
+18 The Alexandrian Neo-Platonists endeavoured in this way to escape from the obvious meaning 
+
+
+of the Timeeus. 
+
+
+19 Antoninus says (ii. 14), “All things from eternity are of like forms, and come round in a 
+circle.” Cf. also ix. 28, and the references to more ancient philosophical writers in Gataker’s notes 
+
+
+on these passages. 
+20 Eccles. i. 9, 10. So Origen, de Prin. iii. 5, and ii. 3. 
+21 Rom. vi. 9. 
+
+
+221 Thess. iv. 16. 
+
+
+23 Ps, xii. 7. 
+
+24 Cf. de Trin. v. 17. 
+25 Wisdom ix. 13-15. 
+26 Gen. i. 1. 
+
+27 Gen. i. 14. 
+
+28 Rom. xii. 3. 
+
+
+29 Titus i. 2, 3. Augustine here follows the version of Jerome. and not the Vulgate. Comp. Contra 
+Priscill. 6, and de Gen. c. Man. iv. 4. 
+
+
+30 2 Cor. x. 12. Here, and in Enar. in Ps. xxxiv., and also in Cont. Faust. xxii. 47, Augustine 
+
+
+follows the Greek, and not the Vulgate. 
+
+31 i.e. indefinite, or an indefinite succession of things. 
+32 Again in the Timeus. 
+
+33 Wisdom xi. 20. 
+
+34 Isa. xl. 26. 
+
+35 Matt. x. 30. 
+
+36 Ps, exlvii. 5. 
+
+37 De sæculis sæculorum. 
+
+38 Ps. cxlviii. 4. 
+
+
+39 Cicero has the same (de Amicitia, 16): “Quonam modo quisquam amicus esse poterit, cui se 
+putabit inimicum esse posse?” He also quotes Scipio to the effect that no sentiment is more 
+unfriendly to friendship than this, that we should love as if some day we were to hate. 
+40 C. 30. 
+41 Coquæus remarks that this is levelled against the Pelagians. 
+42 “Quando leoni 
+
+Fortior eripuit vitam leo? quo nemore unquam 
+
+Exspiravit aper majoris dentibus apri? 
+
+Indica tigris agit rabida cum tigride pacem 
+
+Perpetuam; sævis inter se convenit ursis. 
+
+Ast homini,” etc. 
+
+JUVENAL, Sat. xv. 160-5. 
+
+43 See this further discussed in Gen. ad Lit. vii. 35, and in Delitzsch’s Bibl. Psychology. 
+44 Jer. xxiii. 24. 
+
+
+45 Wisdom, viii. 1. 
+
+
+46 1 Cor. iii. 7. 
+
+47 1 Cor. xv. 38. 
+
+48 Jer. i. 5. 
+
+49 Compare de Trin. iii. 13-16. 
+50 See Book xi. 5. 
+
+
+51 “The Deity, desirous of making the universe in all respects resemble the most beautiful and 
+entirely perfect of intelligible objects, formed it into one visible animal, containing within itself 
+all the other animals with which it is naturally allied.—Timeus, c. xi. 
+
+
+52 Ps. xlvi. 8. 
+
+
+53 Ps, xxv. 10. 
+
+
+BOOK THIRTEENTH 
+
+
+ARGUMENT 
+
+
+IN THIS BOOK IT IS TAUGHT THAT DEATH IS PENAL, AND HAD ITS ORIGIN IN ADAM’S SIN. 
+1. Of the fall of the first man, through which mortality has been contracted 
+
+
+H aving disposed of the very difficult questions concerning the origin 
+of our world and the beginning of the human race, the natural order 
+requires that we now discuss the fall of the first man (we may say of the 
+first men), and of the origin and propagation of human death. For God 
+had not made man like the angels, in such a condition that, even though 
+they had sinned, they could none the more die. He had so made them, 
+that if they discharged the obligations of obedience, an angelic 
+immortality and a blessed eternity might ensue, without the intervention 
+of death; but if they disobeyed, death should be visited on them with 
+just sentence—which, too, has been spoken to in the preceding book. 
+
+
+2. Of that death which can affect an immortal soul, and of that to which the body is subject 
+
+
+But I see I must speak a little more carefully of the nature of death. 
+For although the human soul is truly affirmed to be immortal, yet it also 
+has a certain death of its own. For it is therefore called immortal, 
+because, in a sense, it does not cease to live and to feel; while the body 
+is called mortal, because it can be forsaken of all life, and cannot by 
+itself live at all. The death, then, of the soul takes place when God 
+forsakes it, as the death of the body when the soul forsakes it. Therefore 
+the death of both—that is, of the whole man—occurs when the soul, 
+forsaken by God, forsakes the body. For, in this case, neither is God the 
+life of the soul, nor the soul the life of the body. And this death of the 
+whole man is followed by that which, on the authority of the divine 
+oracles, we call the second death. This the Saviour referred to when He 
+said, “Fear Him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.”! 
+And since this does not happen before the soul is so joined to its body 
+that they cannot be separated at all, it may be matter of wonder how the 
+
+
+body can be said to be killed by that death in which it is not forsaken by 
+the soul, but, being animated and rendered sensitive by it, is tormented. 
+For in that penal and everlasting punishment, of which in its own place 
+we are to speak more at large, the soul is justly said to die, because it 
+does not live in connection with God; but how can we say that the body 
+is dead, seeing that it lives by the soul? For it could not otherwise feel 
+the bodily torments which are to follow the resurrection. Is it because 
+life of every kind is good, and pain an evil, that we decline to say that 
+that body lives, in which the soul is the cause, not of life, but of pain? 
+The soul, then, lives by God when it lives well, for it cannot live well 
+unless by God working in it what is good; and the body lives by the soul 
+when the soul lives in the body, whether itself be living by God or no. 
+For the wicked man’s life in the body is a life not of the soul, but of the 
+body, which even dead souls—that is, souls forsaken of God—can confer 
+upon bodies, how little soever of their own proper life, by which they 
+are immortal, they retain. But in the last damnation, though man does 
+not cease to feel, yet because this feeling of his is neither sweet with 
+pleasure nor wholesome with repose, but painfully penal, it is not 
+without reason called death rather than life. And it is called the second 
+death because it follows the first, which sunders the two cohering 
+essences, whether these be God and the soul, or the soul and the body. 
+Of the first and bodily death, then, we may say that to the good it is 
+good, and evil to the evil. But, doubtless, the second, as it happens to 
+none of the good, so it can be good for none. 
+
+
+3. Whether death, which by the sin of our first parents has passed upon all men, is the 
+
+
+punishment of sin, even to the good 
+
+
+But a question not to be shirked arises: Whether in very truth death, 
+which separates soul and body, is good to the good?2 For if it be, how 
+has it come to pass that such a thing should be the punishment of sin? 
+For the first men would not have suffered death had they not sinned. 
+How, then, can that be good to the good, which could not have 
+happened except to the evil? Then, again, if it could only happen to the 
+evil, to the good it ought not to be good, but non-existent. For why 
+should there be any punishment where there is nothing to punish? 
+Wherefore we must say that the first men were indeed so created, that if 
+they had not sinned, they would not have experienced any kind of death; 
+
+
+but that, having become sinners, they were so punished with death, that 
+whatsoever sprang from their stock should also be punished with the 
+same death. For nothing else could be born of them than that which they 
+themselves had been. Their nature was deteriorated in proportion to the 
+greatness of the condemnation of their sin, so that what existed as 
+punishment in those who first sinned, became a natural consequence in 
+their children. For man is not produced by man, as he was from the dust. 
+For dust was the material out of which man was made: man is the parent 
+by whom man is begotten. Wherefore earth and flesh are not the same 
+thing, though flesh be made of earth. But as man the parent is, such is 
+man the offspring. In the first man, therefore, there existed the whole 
+human nature, which was to be transmitted by the woman to posterity, 
+when that conjugal union received the divine sentence of its own 
+condemnation; and what man was made, not when created, but when he 
+sinned and was punished, this he propagated, so far as the origin of sin 
+and death are concerned. For neither by sin nor its punishment was he 
+himself reduced to that infantine and helpless infirmity of body and 
+mind which we see in children. For God ordained that infants should 
+begin the world as the young of beasts begin it, since their parents had 
+fallen to the level of the beasts in the fashion of their life and of their 
+death; as it is written, “Man when he was in honour understood not; he 
+became like the beasts that have no understanding.”3 Nay more, infants, 
+we see, are even feebler in the use and movement of their limbs, and 
+more infirm to choose and refuse, than the most tender offspring of 
+other animals; as if the force that dwells in human nature were destined 
+to surpass all other living things so much the more eminently, as its 
+energy has been longer restrained, and the time of its exercise delayed, 
+just as an arrow flies the higher the further back it has been drawn. To 
+this infantine imbecility* the first man did not fall by his lawless 
+presumption and just sentence; but human nature was in his person 
+vitiated and altered to such an extent, that he suffered in his members 
+the warring of disobedient lust, and became subject to the necessity of 
+dying. And what he himself had become by sin and punishment, such he 
+generated those whom he begot; that is to say, subject to sin and death. 
+And if infants are delivered from this bondage of sin by the Redeemer’s 
+grace, they can suffer only this death which separates soul and body; but 
+being redeemed from the obligation of sin, they do not pass to that 
+
+
+second endless and penal death. 
+
+
+4. Why death, the punishment of sin, is not withheld from those who by the grace of 
+
+
+regeneration are absolved from sin 
+
+
+If, moreover, any one is solicitous about this point, how, if death be 
+the very punishment of sin, they whose guilt is cancelled by grace do yet 
+suffer death, this difficulty has already been handled and solved in our 
+other work which we have written on the baptism of infants.5 There it 
+was said that the parting of soul and body was left, though its 
+connection with sin was removed, for this reason, that if the immortality 
+of the body followed immediately upon the sacrament of regeneration, 
+faith itself would be thereby enervated. For faith is then only faith when 
+it waits in hope for what is not yet seen in substance. And by the vigour 
+and conflict of faith, at least in times past, was the fear of death 
+overcome. Specially was this conspicuous in the holy martyrs, who could 
+have had no victory, no glory, to whom there could not even have been 
+any conflict, if, after the laver of regeneration, saints could not suffer 
+bodily death. Who would not, then, in company with the infants 
+presented for baptism, run to the grace of Christ, that so he might not be 
+dismissed from the body? And thus faith would not be tested with an 
+unseen reward; and so would not even be faith, seeking and receiving an 
+immediate recompense of its works. But now, by the greater and more 
+admirable grace of the Saviour the punishment of sin is turned to the 
+service of righteousness. For then it was proclaimed to man, “If thou 
+sinnest, thou shalt die;” now it is said to the martyr, “Die, that thou sin 
+not.” Then it was said, “If ye transgress the commandments, ye shall 
+die;” now it is said, “If ye decline death, ye transgress the 
+commandment.” That which was formerly set as an object of terror, that 
+men might not sin, is now to be undergone if we would not sin. Thus, by 
+the unutterable mercy of God, even the very punishment of wickedness 
+has become the armour of virtue, and the penalty of the sinner becomes 
+the reward of the righteous. For then death was incurred by sinning, 
+now righteousness is fulfilled by dying. In the case of the holy martyrs it 
+is so; for to them the persecutor proposes the alternative, apostasy or 
+death. For the righteous prefer by believing to suffer what the first 
+transgressors suffered by not believing. For unless they had sinned, they 
+would not have died; but the martyrs sin if they do not die. The one died 
+
+
+because they sinned, the others do not sin because they die. By the guilt 
+of the first, punishment was incurred; by the punishment of the second, 
+guilt is prevented. Not that death, which was before an evil, has become 
+something good, but only that God has granted to faith this grace, that 
+death, which is the admitted opposite to life, should become the 
+instrument by which life is reached. 
+
+
+5. As the wicked make an ill use of the law, which is good, so the good make a good use of 
+
+
+death, which is an ill 
+
+
+The apostle, wishing to show how hurtful a thing sin is, when grace 
+does not aid us, has not hesitated to say that the strength of sin is that 
+very law by which sin is prohibited. “The sting of death is sin, and the 
+strength of sin is the law.”6 Most certainly true; for prohibition increases 
+the desire of illicit action, if righteousness is not so loved that the desire 
+of sin is conquered by that love. But unless divine grace aid us, we 
+cannot love nor delight in true righteousness. But lest the law should be 
+thought to be an evil, since it is called the strength of sin, the apostle, 
+when treating a similar question in another place, says, “The law indeed 
+is holy, and the commandment holy, and just, and good. Was then that 
+which is holy made death unto me? God forbid. But sin, that it might 
+appear sin, working death in me by that which is good; that sin by the 
+commandment might become exceeding sinful.”” Exceeding, he says, 
+because the transgression is more heinous when through the increasing 
+lust of sin the law itself also is despised. Why have we thought it worth 
+while to mention this? For this reason, because, as the law is not an evil 
+when it increases the lust of those who sin, so neither is death a good 
+thing when it increases the glory of those who suffer it, since either the 
+former is abandoned wickedly, and makes transgressors, or the latter is 
+embraced for the truth’s sake, and makes martyrs. And thus the law is 
+indeed good, because it is prohibition of sin, and death is evil because it 
+is the wages of sin; but as wicked men make an evil use not only of evil, 
+but also of good things, so the righteous make a good use not only of 
+good, but also of evil things. Whence it comes to pass that the wicked 
+make an ill use of the law, though the law is good; and that the good die 
+well, though death is an evil. 
+
+
+6. Of the evil of death in general, considered as the separation of soul and body 
+
+
+Wherefore, as regards bodily death, that is, the separation of the soul 
+from the body, it is good unto none while it is being endured by those 
+who we say are in the article of death. For the very violence with which 
+body and soul are wrenched asunder, which in the living had been 
+conjoined and closely intertwined, brings with it a harsh experience, 
+jarring horridly on nature so long as it continues, till there comes a total 
+loss of sensation, which arose from the very interpenetration of spirit 
+and flesh. And all this anguish is sometimes forestalled by one stroke of 
+the body or sudden flitting of the soul, the swiftness of which prevents it 
+from being felt. But whatever that may be in the dying which with 
+violently painful sensation robs of all sensation, yet, when it is piously 
+and faithfully borne, it increases the merit of patience, but does not 
+make the name of punishment inapplicable. Death, proceeding by 
+ordinary generation from the first man, is the punishment of all who are 
+born of him, yet, if it be endured for righteousness’ sake, it becomes the 
+glory of those who are born again; and though death be the award of sin, 
+it sometimes secures that nothing be awarded to sin. 
+
+
+7. Of the death which the unbaptized®, suffer for the confession of Christ 
+
+
+For whatever unbaptized persons die confessing Christ, this confession 
+is of the same efficacy for the remission of sins as if they were washed in 
+the sacred font of baptism. For He who said, “Except a man be born of 
+water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God,”? 
+made also an exception in their favour, in that other sentence where He 
+no less absolutely said, “Whosoever shall confess me before men, him 
+will I confess also before my Father which is in heaven;!° and in another 
+place, “Whosoever will lose his life for my sake, shall find it.”!1 And this 
+explains the verse, “Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His 
+saints.”12 For what is more precious than a death by which a man’s sins 
+are all forgiven, and his merits increased an hundredfold? For those who 
+have been baptized when they could no longer escape death, and have 
+departed this life with all their sins blotted out, have not equal merit 
+with those who did not defer death, though it was in their power to do 
+so, but preferred to end their life by confessing Christ, rather than by 
+denying Him to secure an opportunity of baptism. And even had they 
+denied Him under pressure of the fear of death, this too would have 
+been forgiven them in that baptism, in which was remitted even the 
+
+
+enormous wickedness of those who had slain Christ. But how abundant 
+in these men must have been the grace of the Spirit, who breathes where 
+He listeth, seeing that they so dearly loved Christ as to be unable to deny 
+Him even in so sore an emergency, and with so sure a hope of pardon! 
+Precious, therefore, is the death of the saints, to whom the grace of 
+Christ has been applied with such gracious effects, that they do not 
+hesitate to meet death themselves, if so be they might meet Him. And 
+precious is it, also, because it has proved that what was originally 
+ordained for the punishment of the sinner, has been used for the 
+production of a richer harvest of righteousness. But not on this account 
+should we look upon death as a good thing, for it is diverted to such 
+useful purposes, not by any virtue of its own, but by the divine 
+interference. Death was originally proposed as an object of dread, that 
+sin might not be committed; now it must be undergone that sin may not 
+be committed, or, if committed, be remitted, and the award of 
+righteousness bestowed on him whose victory has earned it. 
+
+
+8. That the saints, by suffering the first death for the truth’s sake, are freed from the second 
+
+
+For if we look at the matter a little more carefully, we shall see that 
+even when a man dies faithfully and laudably for the truth’s sake, it is 
+still death he is avoiding. For he submits to some part of death, for the 
+very purpose of avoiding the whole, and the second and eternal death 
+over and above. He submits to the separation of soul and body, lest the 
+soul be separated both from God and from the body, and so the whole 
+first death be completed, and the second death receive him everlastingly. 
+Wherefore death is indeed, as I said, good to none while it is being 
+actually suffered, and while it is subduing the dying to its power; but it 
+is meritoriously endured for the sake of retaining or winning what is 
+good. And regarding what happens after death, it is no absurdity to say 
+that death is good to the good, and evil to the evil. For the disembodied 
+spirits of the just are at rest; but those of the wicked suffer punishment 
+till their bodies rise again—those of the just to life everlasting, and of 
+the others to death eternal, which is called the second death. 
+
+
+9. Whether we should say that the moment of death, in which sensation ceases, occurs in the 
+
+
+experience of the dying or in that of the dead 
+
+
+The point of time in which the souls of the good and evil are separated 
+
+
+from the body, are we to say it is after death, or in death rather? If it is 
+after death, then it is not death which is good or evil, since death is done 
+with and past, but it is the life which the soul has now entered on. Death 
+was an evil when it was present, that is to say, when it was being 
+suffered by the dying; for to them it brought with it a severe and 
+grievous experience, which the good make a good use of. But when 
+death is past, how can that which no longer is be either good or evil? 
+Still further, if we examine the matter more closely, we shall see that 
+even that sore and grievous pain which the dying experience is not death 
+itself. For so long as they have any sensation, they are certainly still 
+alive; and, if still alive, must rather be said to be in a state previous to 
+death than in death. For when death actually comes, it robs us of all 
+bodily sensation, which, while death is only approaching, is painful. And 
+thus it is difficult to explain how we speak of those who are not yet 
+dead, but are agonized in their last and mortal extremity, as being in the 
+article of death. Yet what else can we call them than dying persons? for 
+when death which was imminent shall have actually come, we can no 
+longer call them dying but dead. No one, therefore, is dying unless 
+living; since even he who is in the last extremity of life, and, as we say, 
+giving up the ghost, yet lives. The same person is therefore at once dying 
+and living, but drawing near to death, departing from life; yet in life, 
+because his spirit yet abides in the body; not yet in death, because not 
+yet has his spirit forsaken the body. But if, when it has forsaken it, the 
+man is not even then in death, but after death, who shall say when he is 
+in death? On the one hand, no one can be called dying, if a man cannot 
+be dying and living at the same time; and as long as the soul is in the 
+body, we cannot deny that he is living. On the other hand, if the man 
+who is approaching death be rather called dying, I know not who is 
+living. 
+
+
+10. Of the life of mortals, which is rather to be called death than life 
+
+
+For no sooner do we begin to live in this dying body, than we begin to 
+move ceaselessly towards death.13 For in the whole course of this life (if 
+life we must call it) its mutability tends towards death. Certainly there is 
+no one who is not nearer it this year than last year, and to-morrow than 
+to-day, and to-day than yesterday, and a short while hence than now, 
+
+
+and now than a short while ago. For whatever time we live is deducted 
+from our whole term of life, and that which remains is daily becoming 
+less and less; so that our whole life is nothing but a race towards death, 
+in which no one is allowed to stand still for a little space, or to go 
+somewhat more slowly, but all are driven forwards with an impartial 
+movement, and with equal rapidity. For he whose life is short spends a 
+day no more swiftly than he whose life is longer. But while the equal 
+moments are impartially snatched from both, the one has a nearer and 
+the other a more remote goal to reach with this their equal speed. It is 
+one thing to make a longer journey, and another to walk more slowly. 
+He, therefore, who spends longer time on his way to death does not 
+proceed at a more leisurely pace, but goes over more ground. Further, if 
+every man begins to die, that is, is in death, as soon as death has begun 
+to show itself in him (by taking away life, to wit; for when life is all 
+taken away, the man will be then not in death, but after death), then he 
+begins to die so soon as he begins to live. For what else is going on in all 
+his days, hours, and moments, until this slow-working death is fully 
+consummated? And then comes the time after death, instead of that in 
+which life was being withdrawn, and which we called being in death. 
+Man, then, is never in life from the moment he dwells in this dying 
+rather than living body—if, at least, he cannot be in life and death at 
+once. Or rather, shall we say, he is in both?—in life, namely, which he 
+lives till all is consumed; but in death also, which he dies as his life is 
+consumed? For if he is not in life, what is it which is consumed till all be 
+gone? And if he is not in death, what is this consumption itself? For 
+when the whole of life has been consumed, the expression “after death” 
+would be meaningless, had that consumption not been death. And if, 
+when it has all been consumed, a man is not in death but after death, 
+when is he in death, unless when life is being consumed away? 
+
+
+11. Whether one can both be living and dead at the same time 
+
+
+But if it is absurd to say that a man is in death before he reaches death 
+(for to what is his course running as he passes through life, if already he 
+is in death?), and if it outrage common usage to speak of a man being at 
+once alive and dead, as much as it does so, to speak of him as at once 
+asleep and awake, it remains to be asked when a man is dying? For, 
+before death comes, he is not dying but living; and when death has 
+
+
+come, he is not dying but dead. The one is before, the other after death. 
+When, then, is he in death so that we can say he is dying? For as there 
+are three times, before death, in death, after death, so there are three 
+states corresponding, living, dying, dead. And it is very hard to define 
+when a man is in death or dying, when he is neither living, which is 
+before death, nor dead, which is after death, but dying, which is in 
+death. For so long as the soul is in the body, especially if consciousness 
+remain, the man certainly lives; for body and soul constitute the man. 
+And thus, before death, he cannot be said to be in death; but when, on 
+the other hand, the soul has departed, and all bodily sensation is extinct, 
+death is past, and the man is dead. Between these two states the dying 
+condition finds no place; for if a man yet lives, death has not arrived; if 
+he has ceased to live, death is past. Never, then, is he dying, that is, 
+comprehended in the state of death. So also in the passing of time—you 
+try to lay your finger on the present, and cannot find it, because the 
+present occupies no space, but is only the transition of time from the 
+future to the past. Must we then conclude that there is thus no death of 
+the body at all? For if there is, where is it, since it is in no one, and no 
+one can be in it? Since, indeed, if there is yet life, death is not yet; for 
+this state is before death, not in death: and if life has already ceased, 
+death is not present; for this state is after death, not in death. On the 
+other hand, if there is no death before or after, what do we mean when 
+we say “after death,” or “before death?” This is a foolish way of speaking 
+if there is no death. And would that we had lived so well in Paradise that 
+in very truth there were now no death! But not only does it now exist, 
+but so grievous a thing is it, that no skill is sufficient either to explain or 
+to escape it. 
+
+Let us, then, speak in the customary way—no man ought to speak 
+otherwise—and let us call the time before death come, “before death;” as 
+it is written, “Praise no man before his death.”!4 And when it has 
+happened, let us say that “after death” this or that took place. And of the 
+present time let us speak as best we can, as when we say, “He, when 
+dying, made his will, and left this or that to such and such persons”— 
+though, of course, he could not do so unless he were living, and did this 
+rather before death than in death. And let us use the same phraseology 
+as Scripture uses; for it makes no scruple of saying that the dead are not 
+after but in death. So that verse, “For in death there is no remembrance 
+
+
+of thee.”!5 For until the resurrection men are justly said to be in death; 
+as every one is said to be in sleep till he awakes. However, though we 
+can say of persons in sleep that they are sleeping, we cannot speak in 
+this way of the dead, and say they are dying. For, so far as regards the 
+death of the body, of which we are now speaking, one cannot say that 
+those who are already separated from their bodies continue dying. But 
+this, you see, is just what I was saying—that no words can explain how 
+either the dying are said to live, or how the dead are said, even after 
+death, to be in death. For how can they be after death if they be in 
+death, especially when we do not even call them dying, as we call those 
+in sleep, sleeping; and those in languor, languishing; and those in grief, 
+grieving; and those in life, living? And yet the dead, until they rise 
+again, are said to be in death, but cannot be called dying. 
+
+And therefore I think it has not unsuitably nor inappropriately come to 
+pass, though not by the intention of man, yet perhaps with divine 
+purpose, that this Latin word moritur cannot be declined by the 
+grammarians according to the rule followed by similar words. For oritur 
+gives the form ortus est for the perfect; and all similar verbs form this 
+tense from their perfect participles. But if we ask the perfect of moritur, 
+we get the regular answer, mortuus est with a double u. For thus mortuus 
+is pronounced, like fatuus, arduus, conspicuus, and similar words, which 
+are not perfect participles but adjectives, and are declined without 
+regard to tense. But mortuus, though in form an adjective, is used as 
+perfect participle, as if that were to be declined which cannot be 
+declined; and thus it has suitably come to pass that, as the thing itself 
+cannot in point of fact be declined, so neither can the word significant of 
+the act be declined. Yet, by the aid of our Redeemer’s grace, we may 
+manage at least to decline the second. For that is more grievous still, 
+and, indeed, of all evils the worst, since it consists not in the separation 
+of soul and body, but in the uniting of both in death eternal. And there, 
+in striking contrast to our present conditions, men will not be before or 
+after death, but always in death; and thus never living, never dead, but 
+endlessly dying. And never can a man be more disastrously in death than 
+when death itself shall be deathless. 
+
+
+12. What death God intended, when He threatened our first parents with death if they should 
+
+
+disobey His commandment 
+
+
+When, therefore, it is asked what death it was with which God 
+threatened our first parents if they should transgress the commandment 
+they had received from Him, and should fail to preserve their obedience 
+—whether it was the death of soul, or of body, or of the whole man, or 
+that which is called second death—we must answer, It is all. For the first 
+consists of two; the second is the complete death, which consists of all. 
+For, as the whole earth consists of many lands, and the Church universal 
+of many churches, so death universal consists of all deaths. The first 
+consists of two, one of the body, and another of the soul. So that the first 
+death is a death of the whole man, since the soul without God and 
+without the body suffers punishment for a time; but the second is when 
+the soul, without God but with the body, suffers punishment everlasting. 
+When, therefore, God said to that first man whom he had placed in 
+Paradise, referring to the forbidden fruit, “In the day that thou eatest 
+thereof thou shalt surely die,”!© that threatening included not only the 
+first part of the first death, by which the soul is deprived of God; nor 
+only the subsequent part of the first death, by which the body is 
+deprived of the soul; nor only the whole first death itself, by which the 
+soul is punished in separation from God and from the body;—but it 
+includes whatever of death there is, even to that final death which is 
+called second, and to which none is subsequent. 
+
+
+13. What was the first punishment of the transgression of our first parents? 
+
+
+For, as soon as our first parents had transgressed the commandment, 
+divine grace forsook them, and they were confounded at their own 
+wickedness; and therefore they took fig-leaves (which were possibly the 
+first that came to hand in their troubled state of mind), and covered 
+their shame; for though their members remained the same, they had 
+shame now where they had none before. They experienced a new motion 
+of their flesh, which had become disobedient to them, in strict 
+retribution of their own disobedience to God. For the soul, revelling in 
+its own liberty, and scorning to serve God, was itself deprived of the 
+command it had formerly maintained over the body. And because it had 
+wilfully deserted its superior Lord, it no longer held its own inferior 
+servant; neither could it hold the flesh subject, as it would always have 
+been able to do had it remained itself subject to God. Then began the 
+flesh to lust against the Spirit,!” in which strife we are born, deriving 
+
+
+from the first transgression a seed of death, and bearing in our members, 
+and in our vitiated nature, the contest or even victory of the flesh. 
+
+
+14. In what state man was made by God, and into what estate he fell by the choice of his own 
+will 
+
+For God, the author of natures, not of vices, created man upright; but 
+man, being of his own will corrupted, and justly condemned, begot 
+corrupted and condemned children. For we all were in that one man, 
+since we all were that one man who fell into sin by the woman who was 
+made from him before the sin. For not yet was the particular form 
+created and distributed to us, in which we as individuals were to live, 
+but already the seminal nature was there from which we were to be 
+propagated; and this being vitiated by sin, and bound by the chain of 
+death, and justly condemned, man could not be born of man in any 
+other state. And thus, from the bad use of free will, there originated the 
+whole train of evil, which, with its concatenation of miseries, convoys 
+the human race from its depraved origin, as from a corrupt root, on to 
+the destruction of the second death, which has no end, those only being 
+excepted who are freed by the grace of God. 
+
+
+15. That Adam in his sin forsook God ere God forsook him, and that his falling away from God 
+was the first death of the soul 
+
+
+It may perhaps be supposed that because God said, “Ye shall die the 
+death,”18 and not “deaths,” we should understand only that death which 
+occurs when the soul is deserted by God, who is its life; for it was not 
+deserted by God, and so deserted Him, but deserted Him, and so was 
+deserted by Him. For its own will was the originator of its evil, as God 
+was the originator of its motions towards good, both in making it when 
+it was not, and in re-making it when it had fallen and perished. But 
+though we suppose that God meant only this death, and that the words, 
+“In the day ye eat of it ye shall die the death,” should be understood as 
+meaning, “In the day ye desert me in disobedience, I will desert you in 
+justice,” yet assuredly in this death the other deaths also were 
+threatened, which were its inevitable consequence. For in the first 
+stirring of the disobedient motion which was felt in the flesh of the 
+disobedient soul, and which caused our first parents to cover their 
+shame, one death indeed is experienced, that, namely, which occurs 
+
+
+when God forsakes the soul. (This was intimated by the words He 
+uttered, when the man, stupefied by fear, had hid himself, “Adam, where 
+art thou?”!9—words which He used not in ignorance of inquiry, but 
+warning him to consider where he was, since God was not with him.) 
+But when the soul itself forsook the body, corrupted and decayed with 
+age, the other death was experienced of which God had spoken in 
+pronouncing man’s sentence, “Earth thou art, and unto earth shalt thou 
+return.”29 And of these two deaths that first death of the whole man is 
+composed. And this first death is finally followed by the second, unless 
+man be freed by grace. For the body would not return to the earth from 
+which it was made, save only by the death proper to itself, which occurs 
+when it is forsaken of the soul, its life. And therefore it is agreed among 
+all Christians who truthfully hold the catholic faith, that we are subject 
+to the death of the body, not by the law of nature, by which God 
+ordained no death for man, but by His righteous infliction on account of 
+sin; for God, taking vengeance on sin, said to the man, in whom we all 
+then were, “Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.” 
+
+
+16. Concerning the philosophers who think that the separation of soul and body is not penal, 
+though Plato represents the supreme Deity as promising to the inferior gods that they shall never 
+be dismissed from their bodies 
+
+
+But the philosophers against whom we are defending the city of God, 
+that is, His Church, seem to themselves to have good cause to deride us, 
+because we say that the separation of the soul from the body is to be 
+held as part of man’s punishment. For they suppose that the blessedness 
+of the soul then only is complete, when it is quite denuded of the body, 
+and returns to God a pure and simple, and, as it were, naked soul. On 
+this point, if I should find nothing in their own literature to refute this 
+opinion, I should be forced laboriously to demonstrate that it is not the 
+body, but the corruptibility of the body, which is a burden to the soul. 
+Hence that sentence of Scripture we quoted in a foregoing book, “For the 
+corruptible body presseth down the soul.”2! The word corruptible is 
+added to show that the soul is burdened, not by any body whatsoever, 
+but by the body such as it has become in consequence of sin. And even 
+though the word had not been added, we could understand nothing else. 
+But when Plato most expressly declares that the gods who are made by 
+the Supreme have immortal bodies, and when he introduces their Maker 
+
+
+himself promising them as a great boon that they should abide in their 
+bodies eternally, and never by any death be loosed from them, why do 
+these adversaries of ours, for the sake of troubling the Christian faith, 
+feign to be ignorant of what they quite well know, and even prefer to 
+contradict themselves rather than lose an opportunity of contradicting 
+us? Here are Plato’s words, as Cicero has translated them,22 in which he 
+introduces the Supreme addressing the gods He had made, and saying, 
+“Ye who are sprung from a divine stock, consider of what works I am the 
+parent and author. These (your bodies) are indestructible so long as I 
+will it; although all that is composed can be destroyed. But it is wicked 
+to dissolve what reason has compacted. But, seeing that ye have been 
+born, ye cannot indeed be immortal and indestructible; yet ye shall by 
+no means be destroyed, nor shall any fates consign you to death, and 
+prove superior to my will, which is a stronger assurance of your 
+perpetuity than those bodies to which ye were joined when ye were 
+born.” Plato, you see, says that the gods are both mortal by the 
+connection of the body and soul, and yet are rendered immortal by the 
+will and decree of their Maker. If, therefore, it is a punishment to the 
+soul to be connected with any body whatever, why does God address 
+them as if they were afraid of death, that is, of the separation of soul and 
+body? Why does He seek to reassure them by promising them 
+immortality, not in virtue of their nature, which is composite and not 
+simple, but by virtue of His invincible will, whereby He can effect that 
+neither things born die, nor things compounded be dissolved, but 
+preserved eternally? 
+
+Whether this opinion of Plato’s about the stars is true or not, is 
+another question. For we cannot at once grant to him that these 
+luminous bodies or globes, which by day and night shine on the earth 
+with the light of their bodily substance, have also intellectual and 
+blessed souls which animate each its own body, as he confidently affirms 
+of the universe itself, as if it were one huge animal, in which all other 
+animals were contained.23 But this, as I said, is another question, which 
+we have not undertaken to discuss at present. This much only I deemed 
+right to bring forward, in opposition to those who so pride themselves 
+on being, or on being called Platonists, that they blush to be Christians, 
+and who cannot brook to be called by a name which the common people 
+also bear, lest they vulgarize the philosophers’ coterie, which is proud in 
+
+
+proportion to its exclusiveness. These men, seeking a weak point in the 
+Christian doctrine, select for attack the eternity of the body, as if it were 
+a contradiction to contend for the blessedness of the soul, and to wish it 
+to be always resident in the body, bound, as it were, in a lamentable 
+chain; and this although Plato, their own founder and master, affirms 
+that it was granted by the Supreme as a boon to the gods He had made, 
+that they should not die, that is, should not be separated from the bodies 
+with which He had connected them. 
+
+
+17. Against those who affirm that earthly bodies cannot be made incorruptible and eternal 
+
+
+These same philosophers further contend that terrestrial bodies cannot 
+be eternal, though they make no doubt that the whole earth, which is 
+itself the central member of their god—not, indeed, of the greatest, but 
+yet of a great god, that is, of this whole world—is eternal. Since, then, 
+the Supreme made for them another god, that is, this world, superior to 
+the other gods beneath Him; and since they suppose that this god is an 
+animal, having, as they affirm, a rational or intellectual soul enclosed in 
+the huge mass of its body, and having, as the fitly situated and adjusted 
+members of its body, the four elements, whose union they wish to be 
+indissoluble and eternal, lest perchance this great god of theirs might 
+some day perish; what reason is there that the earth, which is the central 
+member in the body of a greater creature, should be eternal, and the 
+bodies of other terrestrial creatures should not possibly be eternal if God 
+should so will it? But earth, say they, must return to earth, out of which 
+the terrestrial bodies of the animals have been taken. For this, they say, 
+is the reason of the necessity of their death and dissolution, and this the 
+manner of their restoration to the solid and eternal earth whence they 
+came. But if any one says the same thing of fire, holding that the bodies 
+which are derived from it to make celestial beings must be restored to 
+the universal fire, does not the immortality which Plato represents these 
+gods as receiving from the Supreme evanesce in the heat of this dispute? 
+Or does this not happen with those celestials because God, whose will, as 
+Plato says, overpowers all powers, has willed it should not be so? What, 
+then, hinders God from ordaining the same of terrestrial bodies? And 
+since, indeed, Plato acknowledges that God can prevent things that are 
+born from dying, and things that are joined from being sundered, and 
+things that are composed from being dissolved, and can ordain that the 
+
+
+souls once allotted to their bodies should never abandon them, but enjoy 
+along with them immortality and everlasting bliss, why may He not also 
+effect that terrestrial bodies die not? Is God powerless to do everything 
+that is special to the Christian’s creed, but powerful to effect everything 
+the Platonists desire? The philosophers, forsooth, have been admitted to 
+a knowledge of the divine purposes and power which has been denied to 
+the prophets! The truth is, that the Spirit of God taught His prophets so 
+much of His will as He thought fit to reveal, but the philosophers, in 
+their efforts to discover it, were deceived by human conjecture. 
+
+But they should not have been so led astray, I will not say by their 
+ignorance, but by their obstinacy, as to contradict themselves so 
+frequently; for they maintain, with all their vaunted might, that in order 
+to the happiness of the soul, it must abandon not only its earthly body, 
+but every kind of body. And yet they hold that the gods, whose souls are 
+most blessed, are bound to everlasting bodies, the celestials to fiery 
+bodies, and the soul of Jove himself (or this world, as they would have 
+us believe) to all the physical elements which compose this entire mass 
+reaching from earth to heaven. For this soul Plato believes to be 
+extended and diffused by musical numbers,24 from the middle of the 
+inside of the earth, which geometricians call the centre, outwards 
+through all its parts to the utmost heights and extremities of the 
+heavens; so that this world is a very great and blessed immortal animal, 
+whose soul has both the perfect blessedness of wisdom, and never leaves 
+its own body, and whose body has life everlasting from the soul, and by 
+no means clogs or hinders it, though itself be not a simple body, but 
+compacted of so many and so huge materials. Since, therefore, they 
+allow so much to their own conjectures, why do they refuse to believe 
+that by the divine will and power immortality can be conferred on 
+earthly bodies, in which the souls would be neither oppressed with the 
+burden of them, nor separated from them by any death, but live 
+eternally and blessedly? Do they not assert that their own gods so live in 
+bodies of fire, and that Jove himself, their king, so lives in the physical 
+elements? If, in order to its blessedness, the soul must quit every kind of 
+body, let their gods flit from the starry spheres, and Jupiter from earth 
+to sky; or, if they cannot do so, let them be pronounced miserable. But 
+neither alternative will these men adopt. For, on the one hand, they dare 
+not ascribe to their own gods a departure from the body, lest they should 
+
+
+seem to worship mortals; on the other hand, they dare not deny their 
+happiness, lest they should acknowledge wretches as gods. Therefore, to 
+obtain blessedness, we need not quit every kind of body, but only the 
+corruptible, cumbersome, painful, dying—not such bodies as the 
+goodness of God contrived for the first man, but such only as man’s sin 
+entailed. 
+
+
+18. Of earthly bodies, which the philosophers affirm cannot be in heavenly places, because 
+whatever is of earth is by its natural weight attracted to earth 
+
+
+But it is necessary, they say, that the natural weight of earthly bodies 
+either keep them on earth or draw them to it; and therefore they cannot 
+be in heaven. Our first parents were indeed on earth, in a well-wooded 
+and fruitful spot, which has been named Paradise. But let our adversaries 
+a little more carefully consider this subject of earthly weight, because it 
+has important bearings, both on the ascension of the body of Christ, and 
+also on the resurrection body of the saints. If human skill can by some 
+contrivance fabricate vessels that float, out of metals which sink as soon 
+as they are placed on the water, how much more credible is it that God, 
+by some occult mode of operation, should even more certainly effect that 
+these earthy masses be emancipated from the downward pressure of 
+their weight? This cannot be impossible to that God by whose almighty 
+will, according to Plato, neither things born perish, nor things composed 
+dissolve, especially since it is much more wonderful that spiritual and 
+bodily essences be conjoined than that bodies be adjusted to other 
+material substances. Can we not also easily believe that souls, being 
+made perfectly blessed, should be endowed with the power of moving 
+their earthy but incorruptible bodies as they please, with almost 
+spontaneous movement, and of placing them where they please with the 
+readiest action? If the angels transport whatever terrestrial creatures 
+they please from any place they please, and convey them whither they 
+please, is it to be believed that they cannot do so without toil and the 
+feeling of burden? Why, then, may we not believe that the spirits of the 
+saints, made perfect and blessed by divine grace, can carry their own 
+bodies where they please, and set them where they will? For, though we 
+have been accustomed to notice, in bearing weights, that the larger the 
+quantity the greater the weight of earthy bodies is, and that the greater 
+the weight the more burdensome it is, yet the soul carries the members 
+
+
+of its own flesh with less difficulty when they are massive with health, 
+than in sickness when they are wasted. And though the hale and strong 
+man feels heavier to other men carrying him than the lank and sickly, 
+yet the man himself moves and carries his own body with less feeling of 
+burden when he has the greater bulk of vigorous health, than when his 
+frame is reduced to a minimum by hunger or disease. Of such 
+consequence, in estimating the weight of earthly bodies, even while yet 
+corruptible and mortal, is the consideration not of dead weight, but of 
+the healthy equilibrium of the parts. And what words can tell the 
+difference between what we now call health and future immortality? Let 
+not the philosophers, then, think to upset our faith with arguments from 
+the weight of bodies; for I don’t care to inquire why they cannot believe 
+an earthly body can be in heaven, while the whole earth is suspended on 
+nothing. For perhaps the world keeps its central place by the same law 
+that attracts to its centre all heavy bodies. But this I say, if the lesser 
+gods, to whom Plato committed the creation of man and the other 
+terrestrial creatures, were able, as he affirms, to withdraw from the fire 
+its quality of burning, while they left it that of lighting, so that it should 
+shine through the eyes; and if to the supreme God Plato also concedes 
+the power of preserving from death things that have been born, and of 
+preserving from dissolution things that are composed of parts so 
+different as body and spirit;—are we to hesitate to concede to this same 
+God the power to operate on the flesh of him whom He has endowed 
+with immortality, so as to withdraw its corruption but leave its nature, 
+remove its burdensome weight but retain its seemly form and members? 
+But concerning our belief in the resurrection of the dead, and concerning 
+their immortal bodies, we shall speak more at large, God willing, in the 
+end of this work. 
+
+
+19. Against the opinion of those who do not believe that the primitive men would have been 
+
+
+immortal if they had not sinned 
+
+
+At present let us go on, as we have begun, to give some explanation 
+regarding the bodies of our first parents. I say then, that, except as the 
+just consequence of sin, they would not have been subjected even to this 
+death, which is good to the good—this death, which is not exclusively 
+known and believed in by a few, but is known to all, by which soul and 
+body are separated, and by which the body of an animal which was but 
+
+
+now visibly living is now visibly dead. For though there can be no 
+manner of doubt that the souls of the just and holy dead live in peaceful 
+rest, yet so much better would it be for them to be alive in healthy, well- 
+conditioned bodies, that even those who hold the tenet that it is most 
+blessed to be quit of every kind of body, condemn this opinion in spite of 
+themselves. For no one will dare to set wise men, whether yet to die or 
+already dead—in other words, whether already quit of the body, or 
+shortly to be so—above the immortal gods, to whom the Supreme, in 
+Plato, promises as a munificent gift life indissoluble, or in eternal union 
+with their bodies. But this same Plato thinks that nothing better can 
+happen to men than that they pass through life piously and justly, and 
+being separated from their bodies, be received into the bosom of the 
+gods, who never abandon theirs; “that, oblivious of the past, they may 
+revisit the upper air, and conceive the longing to return again to the 
+body.”25 Virgil is applauded for borrowing this from the Platonic system. 
+Assuredly Plato thinks that the souls of mortals cannot always be in their 
+bodies, but must necessarily be dismissed by death; and, on the other 
+hand, he thinks that without bodies they cannot endure for ever, but 
+with ceaseless alternation pass from life to death, and from death to life. 
+This difference, however, he sets between wise men and the rest, that 
+they are carried after death to the stars, that each man may repose for a 
+while in a star suitable for him, and may thence return to the labours 
+and miseries of mortals when he has become oblivious of his former 
+misery, and possessed with the desire of being embodied. Those, again, 
+who have lived foolishly transmigrate into bodies fit for them, whether 
+human or bestial. Thus he has appointed even the good and wise souls to 
+a very hard lot indeed, since they do not receive such bodies as they 
+might always and even immortally inhabit, but such only as they can 
+neither permanently retain nor enjoy eternal purity without. Of this 
+notion of Plato’s, we have in a former book already said26 that Porphyry 
+was ashamed in the light of these Christian times, so that he not only 
+emancipated human souls from a destiny in the bodies of beasts, but also 
+contended for the liberation of the souls of the wise from all bodily ties, 
+so that, escaping from all flesh, they might, as bare and blessed souls, 
+dwell with the Father time without end. And that he might not seem to 
+be outbid by Christ’s promise of life everlasting to His saints, he also 
+established purified souls in endless felicity, without return to their 
+
+
+former woes; but, that he might contradict Christ, he denies the 
+resurrection of incorruptible bodies, and maintains that these souls will 
+live eternally, not only without earthly bodies, but without any bodies at 
+all. And yet, whatever he meant by this teaching, he at least did not 
+teach that these souls should offer no religious observance to the gods 
+who dwelt in bodies. And why did he not, unless because he did not 
+believe that the souls, even though separate from the body, were 
+superior to those gods? Wherefore, if these philosophers will not dare (as 
+I think they will not) to set human souls above the gods who are most 
+blessed, and yet are tied eternally to their bodies, why do they find that 
+absurd which the Christian faith preaches,2”7 namely, that our first 
+parents were so created that, if they had not sinned, they would not 
+have been dismissed from their bodies by any death, but would have 
+been endowed with immortality as the reward of their obedience, and 
+would have lived eternally with their bodies; and further, that the saints 
+will in the resurrection inhabit those very bodies in which they have 
+here toiled, but in such sort that neither shall any corruption or 
+unwieldiness be suffered to attach to their flesh, nor any grief or trouble 
+to cloud their felicity? 
+
+
+20. That the flesh now resting in peace shall be raised to a perfection not enjoyed by the flesh of 
+
+
+our first parents 
+
+
+Thus the souls of departed saints are not affected by the death which 
+dismisses them from their bodies, because their flesh rests in hope, no 
+matter what indignities it receives after sensation is gone. For they do 
+not desire that their bodies be forgotten, as Plato thinks fit, but rather, 
+because they remember what has been promised by Him who deceives 
+no man, and who gave them security for the safe keeping even of the 
+hairs of their head, they with a longing patience wait in hope of the 
+resurrection of their bodies, in which they have suffered many 
+hardships, and are now to suffer never again. For if they did not “hate 
+their own flesh,” when it, with its native infirmity, opposed their will, 
+and had to be constrained by the spiritual law, how much more shall 
+they love it, when it shall even itself have become spiritual! For as, when 
+the spirit serves the flesh, it is fitly called carnal, so, when the flesh 
+serves the spirit, it will justly be called spiritual. Not that it is converted 
+into spirit, as some fancy from the words, “It is sown in corruption, it is 
+
+
+raised in incorruption,”28 but because it is subject to the spirit with a 
+perfect and marvellous readiness of obedience, and responds in all things 
+to the will that has entered on immortality—all reluctance, all 
+corruption, and all slowness being removed. For the body will not only 
+be better than it was here in its best estate of health, but it will surpass 
+the bodies of our first parents ere they sinned. For, though they were not 
+to die unless they should sin, yet they used food as men do now, their 
+bodies not being as yet spiritual, but animal only. And though they 
+decayed not with years, nor drew nearer to death—a condition secured 
+to them in God’s marvellous grace by the tree of life, which grew along 
+with the forbidden tree in the midst of Paradise—yet they took other 
+nourishment, though not of that one tree, which was interdicted not 
+because it was itself bad, but for the sake of commending a pure and 
+simple obedience, which is the great virtue of the rational creature set 
+under the Creator as his Lord. For, though no evil thing was touched, yet 
+if a thing forbidden was touched, the very disobedience was sin. They 
+were, then, nourished by other fruit, which they took that their animal 
+bodies might not suffer the discomfort of hunger or thirst; but they 
+tasted the tree of life, that death might not steal upon them from any 
+quarter, and that they might not, spent with age, decay. Other fruits 
+were, so to speak, their nourishment, but this their sacrament. So that 
+the tree of life would seem to have been in the terrestrial Paradise what 
+the wisdom of God is in the spiritual, of which it is written, “She is a tree 
+of life to them that lay hold upon her.”29 
+
+
+21. Of Paradise, that it can be understood in a spiritual sense without sacrificing the historic 
+
+
+truth of the narrative regarding the real place 
+
+
+On this account some allegorize all that concerns Paradise itself, 
+where the first men, the parents of the human race, are, according to the 
+truth of holy Scripture, recorded to have been; and they understand all 
+its trees and fruit-bearing plants as virtues and habits of life, as if they 
+had no existence in the external world, but were only so spoken of or 
+related for the sake of spiritual meanings. As if there could not be a real 
+terrestrial Paradise! As if there never existed these two women, Sarah 
+and Hagar, nor the two sons who were born to Abraham, the one of the 
+bond woman, the other of the free, because the apostle says that in them 
+the two covenants were prefigured; or as if water never flowed from the 
+
+
+rock when Moses struck it, because therein Christ can be seen in a 
+figure, as the same apostle says, “Now that rock was Christ!”3° No one, 
+then, denies that Paradise may signify the life of the blessed; its four 
+rivers, the four virtues, prudence, fortitude, temperance, and justice; its 
+trees, all useful knowledge; its fruits, the customs of the godly; its tree of 
+life, wisdom herself, the mother of all good; and the tree of the 
+knowledge of good and evil, the experience of a broken commandment. 
+The punishment which God appointed was in itself a just, and therefore 
+a good thing; but man’s experience of it is not good. 
+
+These things can also and more profitably be understood of the 
+Church, so that they become prophetic foreshadowings of things to 
+come. Thus Paradise is the Church, as it is called in the Canticles;3! the 
+four rivers of Paradise are the four gospels; the fruit-trees the saints, and 
+the fruit their works; the tree of life is the holy of holies, Christ; the tree 
+of the knowledge of good and evil, the will’s free choice. For if man 
+despise the will of God, he can only destroy himself; and so he learns the 
+difference between consecrating himself to the common good and 
+revelling in his own. For he who loves himself is abandoned to himself, 
+in order that, being overwhelmed with fears and sorrows, he may cry, if 
+there be yet soul in him to feel his ills, in the words of the psalm, “My 
+soul is cast down within me,”32 and when chastened, may say, “Because 
+of his strength I will wait upon Thee.”33 These and similar allegorical 
+interpretations may be suitably put upon Paradise without giving offence 
+to any one, while yet we believe the strict truth of the history, confirmed 
+by its circumstantial narrative of facts.34 
+
+
+22. That the bodies of the saints shall after the resurrection be spiritual, and yet flesh shall not 
+
+
+be changed into spirit 
+
+
+The bodies of the righteous, then, such as they shall be in the 
+resurrection, shall need neither any fruit to preserve them from dying of 
+disease or the wasting decay of old age, nor any other physical 
+nourishment to allay the cravings of hunger or of thirst; for they shall be 
+invested with so sure and every way inviolable an immortality, that they 
+shall not eat save when they choose, nor be under the necessity of 
+eating, while they enjoy the power of doing so. For so also was it with 
+the angels who presented themselves to the eye and touch of men, not 
+because they could do no otherwise, but because they were able and 
+
+
+desirous to suit themselves to men by a kind of manhood ministry. For 
+neither are we to suppose, when men receive them as guests, that the 
+angels eat only in appearance, though to any who did not know them to 
+be angels they might seem to eat from the same necessity as ourselves. 
+So these words spoken in the Book of Tobit, “You saw me eat, but you 
+saw it but in vision;”55 that is, you thought I took food as you do for the 
+sake of refreshing my body. But if in the case of the angels another 
+opinion seems more capable of defence, certainly our faith leaves no 
+room to doubt regarding our Lord Himself, that even after His 
+resurrection, and when now in spiritual but yet real flesh, He ate and 
+drank with His disciples; for not the power, but the need, of eating and 
+drinking is taken from these bodies. And so they will be spiritual, not 
+because they shall cease to be bodies, but because they shall subsist by 
+the quickening spirit. 
+
+
+23. What we are to understand by the animal and spiritual body; or of those who die in Adam, 
+
+
+and of those who are made alive in Christ 
+
+
+For as those bodies of ours, that have a living soul, though not as yet a 
+quickening spirit, are called soul-informed bodies, and yet are not souls 
+but bodies, so also those bodies are called spiritual—yet God forbid we 
+should therefore suppose them to be spirits and not bodies—which, 
+being quickened by the Spirit, have the substance, but not the 
+unwieldiness and corruption of flesh. Man will then be not earthly but 
+heavenly—not because the body will not be that very body which was 
+made of earth, but because by its heavenly endowment it will be a fit 
+inhabitant of heaven, and this not by losing its nature, but by changing 
+its quality. The first man, of the earth earthy, was made a living soul, not 
+a quickening spirit—which rank was reserved for him as the reward of 
+obedience. And therefore his body, which required meat and drink to 
+satisfy hunger and thirst, and which had no absolute and indestructible 
+immortality, but by means of the tree of life warded off the necessity of 
+dying, and was thus maintained in the flower of youth—this body, I say, 
+was doubtless not spiritual, but animal; and yet it would not have died 
+but that it provoked God’s threatened vengeance by offending. And 
+though sustenance was not denied him even outside Paradise, yet, being 
+forbidden the tree of life, he was delivered over to the wasting of time, 
+at least in respect of that life which, had he not sinned, he might have 
+
+
+retained perpetually in Paradise, though only in an animal body, till 
+such time as it became spiritual in acknowledgment of his obedience. 
+
+Wherefore, although we understand that this manifest death, which 
+consists in the separation of soul and body, was also signified by God 
+when He said, “In the day thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die,”36 it 
+ought not on that account to seem absurd that they were not dismissed 
+from the body on that very day on which they took the forbidden and 
+death-bringing fruit. For certainly on that very day their nature was 
+altered for the worse and vitiated, and by their most just banishment 
+from the tree of life they were involved in the necessity even of bodily 
+death, in which necessity we are born. And therefore the apostle does 
+not say, “The body indeed is doomed to die on account of sin,” but he 
+says, “The body indeed is dead because of sin.” Then he adds, “But if the 
+Spirit of Him that raised up Jesus from the dead dwell in you, He that 
+raised up Christ from the dead shall also quicken your mortal bodies by 
+His Spirit that dwelleth in you.”37 Then accordingly shall the body 
+become a quickening spirit which is now a living soul; and yet the 
+apostle calls it “dead,” because already it lies under the necessity of 
+dying. But in Paradise it was so made a living soul, though not a 
+quickening spirit, that it could not properly be called dead, for, save 
+through the commission of sin, it could not come under the power of 
+death. Now, since God by the words, “Adam, where art thou?” pointed 
+to the death of the soul, which results when He abandons it, and since in 
+the words, “Earth thou art, and unto earth shalt thou return,”38 He 
+signified the death of the body, which results when the soul departs from 
+it, we are led, therefore, to believe that He said nothing of the second 
+death, wishing it to be kept hidden, and reserving it for the New 
+Testament dispensation, in which it is most plainly revealed. And this He 
+did in order that, first of all, it might be evident that this first death, 
+which is common to all, was the result of that sin which in one man 
+became common to all.39 But the second death is not common to all, 
+those being excepted who were “called according to His purpose. For 
+whom He did foreknow, He also did predestinate to be conformed to the 
+image of His Son, that He might be the first-born among many 
+brethren.”4° Those the grace of God has, by a Mediator, delivered from 
+the second death. 
+
+Thus the apostle states that the first man was made in an animal body. 
+
+
+For, wishing to distinguish the animal body which now is from the 
+spiritual, which is to be in the resurrection, he says, “It is sown in 
+corruption, it is raised in incorruption: it is sown in dishonour, it is 
+raised in glory: it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power: it is sown a 
+natural body, it is raised a spiritual body.” Then, to prove this, he goes 
+on, “There is a natural body, and there is a spiritual body.” And to show 
+what the animated body is, he says, “Thus it was written, The first man 
+Adam was made a living soul, the last Adam was made a quickening 
+spirit.”41 He wished thus to show what the animated body is, though 
+Scripture did not say of the first man Adam, when his soul was created 
+by the breath of God, “Man was made in an animated body,” but “Man 
+was made a living soul.”42 By these words, therefore, “The first man was 
+made a living soul,” the apostle wishes man’s animated body to be 
+understood. But how he wishes the spiritual body to be understood he 
+shows when he adds, “But the last Adam was made a quickening spirit,” 
+plainly referring to Christ, who has so risen from the dead that He 
+cannot die any more. He then goes on to say, “But that was not first 
+which is spiritual, but that which is natural; and afterward that which is 
+spiritual.” And here he much more clearly asserts that he referred to the 
+animal body when he said that the first man was made a living soul, and 
+to the spiritual when he said that the last man was made a quickening 
+spirit. The animal body is the first, being such as the first Adam had, and 
+which would not have died had he not sinned, being such also as we 
+now have, its nature being changed and vitiated by sin to the extent of 
+bringing us under the necessity of death, and being such as even Christ 
+condescended first of all to assume, not indeed of necessity, but of 
+choice; but afterwards comes the spiritual body, which already is worn 
+by anticipation by Christ as our head, and will be worn by His members 
+in the resurrection of the dead. 
+
+Then the apostle subjoins a notable difference between these two men, 
+saying, “The first man is of the earth, earthy; the second man is the Lord 
+from heaven. As is the earthy, such are they also that are earthy; and as 
+is the heavenly, such are they also that are heavenly. And as we have 
+borne the image of the earthy, we shall also bear the image of the 
+heavenly.”43 So he elsewhere says, “As many of you as have been 
+baptized into Christ have put on Christ;”44 but in very deed this shall be 
+accomplished when that which is animal in us by our birth shall have 
+
+
+become spiritual in our resurrection. For, to use his words again, “We 
+are saved by hope.”45 Now we bear the image of the earthly man by the 
+propagation of sin and death, which pass on us by ordinary generation; 
+but we bear the image of the heavenly by the grace of pardon and life 
+eternal, which regeneration confers upon us through the Mediator of 
+God and men, the Man Christ Jesus. And He is the heavenly Man of 
+Paul’s passage, because He came from heaven to be clothed with a body 
+of earthly mortality, that He might clothe it with heavenly immortality. 
+And he calls others heavenly, because by grace they become His 
+members, that, together with them, He may become one Christ, as head 
+and body. In the same epistle he puts this yet more clearly: “Since by 
+man came death, by Man came also the resurrection of the dead. For as 
+in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive”46—that is to 
+say, in a spiritual body which shall be made a quickening spirit. Not that 
+all who die in Adam shall be members of Christ—for the great majority 
+shall be punished in eternal death—but he uses the word “all” in both 
+clauses, because, as no one dies in an animal body except in Adam, so no 
+one is quickened a spiritual body save in Christ. We are not, then, by any 
+means to suppose that we shall in the resurrection have such a body as 
+the first man had before he sinned, nor that the words, “As is the earthy, 
+such are they also that are earthy,” are to be understood of that which 
+was brought about by sin; for we are not to think that Adam had a 
+spiritual body before he fell, and that, in punishment of his sin, it was 
+changed into an animal body. If this be thought, small heed has been 
+given to the words of so great a teacher, who says, “There is a natural 
+body, there is also a spiritual body; as it is written, The first man Adam 
+was made a living soul.” Was it after sin he was made so? or was not this 
+the primal condition of man from which the blessed apostle selects his 
+testimony to show what the animal body is? 
+
+
+24. How we must understand that breathing of God by which “the first man was made a living 
+soul,” and that also by which the Lord conveyed His Spirit to His disciples when He said, 
+“Receive ye the Holy Ghost.” 
+
+
+Some have hastily supposed from the words, “God breathed into 
+Adam’s nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living soul,”47 that 
+a soul was not then first given to man, but that the soul already given 
+was quickened by the Holy Ghost. They are encouraged in this 
+
+
+supposition by the fact that the Lord Jesus after His resurrection 
+breathed on His disciples, and said, “Receive ye the Holy Spirit.”48 From 
+this they suppose that the same thing was effected in either case, as if 
+the evangelist had gone on to say, And they became living souls. But if 
+he had made this addition, we should only understand that the Spirit is 
+in some way the life of souls, and that without Him reasonable souls 
+must be accounted dead, though their bodies seem to live before our 
+eyes. But that this was not what happened when man was created, the 
+very words of the narrative sufficiently show: “And God made man dust 
+of the earth;” which some have thought to render more clearly by the 
+words, “And God formed man of the clay of the earth.” For it had before 
+been said that “there went up a mist from the earth, and watered the 
+whole face of the ground,”49 in order that the reference to clay, formed 
+of this moisture and dust, might be understood. For on this verse there 
+immediately follows the announcement, “And God created man dust of 
+the earth;” so those Greek manuscripts have it from which this passage 
+has been translated into Latin. But whether one prefers to read “created” 
+or “formed,” where the Greek reads ixdasey, is of little importance; yet 
+“formed” is the better rendering. But those who preferred “created” 
+thought they thus avoided the ambiguity arising from the fact, that in 
+the Latin language the usage obtains that those are said to form a thing 
+who frame some feigned and fictitious thing. This man, then, who was 
+created of the dust of the earth, or of the moistened dust or clay—this 
+“dust of the earth” (that I may use the express words of Scripture) was 
+made, as the apostle teaches, an animated body when he received a soul. 
+This man, he says, “was made a living soul;” that is, this fashioned dust 
+was made a living soul. 
+
+They say, Already he had a soul, else he would not be called a man; 
+for man is not a body alone, nor a soul alone, but a being composed of 
+both. This, indeed, is true, that the soul is not the whole man, but the 
+better part of man; the body not the whole, but the inferior part of man; 
+and that then, when both are joined, they receive the name of man— 
+which, however, they do not severally lose even when we speak of them 
+singly. For who is prohibited from saying, in colloquial usage, “That man 
+is dead, and is now at rest or in torment,” though this can be spoken 
+only of the soul; or “He is buried in such and such a place,” though this 
+refers only to the body? Will they say that Scripture follows no such 
+
+
+usage? On the contrary, it so thoroughly adopts it, that even while a 
+man is alive, and body and soul are united, it calls each of them singly 
+by the name “man,” speaking of the soul as the “inward man,” and of the 
+body as the “outward man,”5° as if there were two men, though both 
+together are indeed but one. But we must understand in what sense man 
+is said to be in the image of God, and is yet dust, and to return to the 
+dust. The former is spoken of the rational soul, which God by His 
+breathing, or, to speak more appropriately, by His inspiration, conveyed 
+to man, that is, to his body; but the latter refers to his body, which God 
+formed of the dust, and to which a soul was given, that it might become 
+a living body, that is, that man might become a living soul. 
+
+Wherefore, when our Lord breathed on His disciples, and said, 
+“Receive ye the Holy Ghost,” He certainly wished it to be understood 
+that the Holy Ghost was not only the Spirit of the Father, but of the 
+only-begotten Son Himself. For the same Spirit is, indeed, the Spirit of 
+the Father and of the Son, making with them the trinity of Father, Son, 
+and Spirit, not a creature, but the Creator. For neither was that material 
+breath which proceeded from the mouth of His flesh the very substance 
+and nature of the Holy Spirit, but rather the intimation, as I said, that 
+the Holy Spirit was common to the Father and to the Son; for they have 
+not each a separate Spirit, but both one and the same. Now this Spirit is 
+always spoken of in sacred Scripture by the Greek word *ve%«, as the 
+Lord, too, named Him in the place cited when He gave Him to His 
+disciples, and intimated the gift by the breathing of His lips; and there 
+does not occur to me any place in the whole Scriptures where He is 
+otherwise named. But in this passage where it is said, “And the Lord 
+formed man dust of the earth, and breathed, or inspired, into his face the 
+breath of life;” the Greek has not espa, the usual word for the Holy 
+Spirit, but =, a word more frequently used of the creature than of the 
+Creator; and for this reason some Latin interpreters have preferred to 
+render it by “breath” rather than “spirit.” For this word occurs also in 
+the Greek in Isa. lvii. 16, where God says, “I have made all breath,” 
+meaning, doubtless, all souls. Accordingly, this word *vo%4 is sometimes 
+rendered “breath,” sometimes “spirit,” sometimes “inspiration,” 
+sometimes “aspiration,” sometimes “soul,” even when it is used of God. 
+Iive, on the other hand, is uniformly rendered “spirit,” whether of man, 
+of whom the apostle says, “For what man knoweth the things of a man, 
+
+
+save the spirit of man which is in him?”5! or of beast, as in the book of 
+Solomon, “Who knoweth the spirit of man that goeth upward, and the 
+spirit of the beast that goeth downward to the earth?”52 or of that 
+physical spirit which is called wind, for so the Psalmist calls it: “Fire and 
+hail; snow and vapours; stormy wind;”°3 or of the uncreated Creator 
+Spirit, of whom the Lord said in the gospel, “Receive ye the Holy Ghost,” 
+indicating the gift by the breathing of His mouth; and when He says, “Go 
+ye and baptize all nations in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of 
+the Holy Ghost,”54 words which very expressly and excellently commend 
+the Trinity; and where it is said, “God is a Spirit;”55 and in very many 
+other places of the sacred writings. In all these quotations from Scripture 
+we do not find in the Greek the word =o% used, but meða, and in the 
+Latin, not flatus, but spiritus. Wherefore, referring again to that place 
+where it is written, “He inspired,” or, to speak more properly, “breathed 
+into his face the breath of life,” even though the Greek had not used =o% 
+(as it has) but 7a, it would not on that account necessarily follow that 
+the Creator Spirit, who in the Trinity is distinctively called the Holy 
+Ghost, was meant, since, as has been said, it is plain that *ve%« is used 
+not only of the Creator, but also of the creature. 
+
+But, say they, when the Scripture used the word “spirit,”5© it would 
+not have added “of life” unless it meant us to understand the Holy Spirit; 
+nor, when it said, “Man became a soul,” would it also have inserted the 
+word “living” unless that life of the soul were signified which is 
+imparted to it from above by the gift of God. For, seeing that the soul by 
+itself has a proper life of its own, what need, they ask, was there of 
+adding living, save only to show that the life which is given it by the 
+Holy Spirit was meant? What is this but to fight strenuously for their 
+own conjectures, while they carelessly neglect the teaching of Scripture? 
+Without troubling themselves much, they might have found in a 
+preceding page of this very book of Genesis the words, “Let the earth 
+bring forth the living soul,”57 when all the terrestrial animals were 
+created. Then at a slight interval, but still in the same book, was it 
+impossible for them to notice this verse, “All in whose nostrils was the 
+breath of life, of all that was in the dry land, died,” by which it was 
+signified that all the animals which lived on the earth had perished in 
+the deluge? If, then, we find that Scripture is accustomed to speak both 
+of the “living soul” and the “spirit of life” even in reference to beasts; 
+
+
+and if in this place, where it is said, “All things which have the spirit of 
+life,” the word *%, not *ve%e, is used; why may we not say, What need 
+was there to add “living,” since the soul cannot exist without being 
+alive? or, What need to add “of life” after the word spirit? But we 
+understand that Scripture used these expressions in its ordinary style so 
+long as it speaks of animals, that is, animated bodies, in which the soul 
+serves as the residence of sensation; but when man is spoken of, we 
+forget the ordinary and established usage of Scripture, whereby it 
+signifies that man received a rational soul, which was not produced out 
+of the waters and the earth like the other living creatures, but was 
+created by the breath of God. Yet this creation was so ordered that the 
+human soul should live in an animal body, like those other animals of 
+which the Scripture said, “Let the earth produce every living soul,” and 
+regarding which it again says that in them is the breath of life, where the 
+word *04 and not *v*%« is used in the Greek, and where certainly not the 
+Holy Spirit, but their spirit, is signified under that name. 
+
+But, again, they object that breath is understood to have been emitted 
+from the mouth of God; and if we believe that is the soul, we must 
+consequently acknowledge it to be of the same substance, and equal to 
+that wisdom, which says, “I come out of the mouth of the Most High.”58 
+Wisdom, indeed, does not say it was breathed out of the mouth of God, 
+but proceeded out of it. But as we are able, when we breathe, to make a 
+breath, not of our own human nature, but of the surrounding air, which 
+we inhale and exhale as we draw our breath and breathe again, so 
+almighty God was able to make breath, not of His own nature, nor of the 
+creature beneath Him, but even of nothing; and this breath, when He 
+communicated it to man’s body, He is most appropriately said to have 
+breathed or inspired—the Immaterial breathing it also immaterial, but 
+the Immutable not also the immutable; for it was created, He uncreated. 
+Yet, that these persons who are forward to quote Scripture, and yet 
+know not the usages of its language, may know that not only what is 
+equal and consubstantial with God is said to proceed out of His mouth, 
+let them hear or read what God says: “So then because thou art 
+lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out of my mouth.”59 
+
+There is no ground, then, for our objecting, when the apostle so 
+expressly distinguishes the animal body from the spiritual—that is to 
+say, the body in which we now are from that in which we are to be. He 
+
+
+says, “It is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body. There is a 
+natural body, and there is a spiritual body. And so it is written, The first 
+man Adam was made a living soul; the last Adam was made a 
+quickening spirit. Howbeit that was not first which is spiritual, but that 
+which is natural; and afterward that which is spiritual. The first man is 
+of the earth, earthy; the second man is the Lord from heaven. As is the 
+earthy, such are they also that are earthy; and as is the heavenly, such 
+are they also that are heavenly. And as we have borne the image of the 
+earthy, we shall also bear the image of the heavenly.”6° Of all which 
+words of his we have previously spoken. The animal body, accordingly, 
+in which the apostle says that the first man Adam was made, was not so 
+made that it could not die at all, but so that it should not die unless he 
+should have sinned. That body, indeed, which shall be made spiritual 
+and immortal by the quickening Spirit shall not be able to die at all; as 
+the soul has been created immortal, and therefore, although by sin it 
+may be said to die, and does lose a certain life of its own, namely, the 
+Spirit of God, by whom it was enabled to live wisely and blessedly, yet it 
+does not cease living a kind of life, though a miserable, because it is 
+immortal by creation. So, too, the rebellious angels, though by sinning 
+they did in a sense die, because they forsook God, the Fountain of life, 
+which while they drank they were able to live wisely and well, yet they 
+could not so die as to utterly cease living and feeling, for they are 
+immortals by creation. And so, after the final judgment, they shall be 
+hurled into the second death, and not even there be deprived of life or of 
+sensation, but shall suffer torment. But those men who have been 
+embraced by God’s grace, and are become the fellow-citizens of the holy 
+angels who have continued in bliss, shall never more either sin or die, 
+being endued with spiritual bodies; yet, being clothed with immortality, 
+such as the angels enjoy, of which they cannot be divested even by 
+sinning, the nature of their flesh shall continue the same, but all carnal 
+corruption and unwieldiness shall be removed. 
+
+There remains a question which must be discussed, and, by the help of 
+the Lord God of truth, solved: If the motion of concupiscence in the 
+unruly members of our first parents arose out of their sin, and only when 
+the divine grace deserted them; and if it was on that occasion that their 
+eyes were opened to see, or, more exactly, notice their nakedness, and 
+that they covered their shame because the shameless motion of their 
+
+
+members was not subject to their will—how, then, would they have 
+begotten children had they remained sinless as they were created? But as 
+this book must be concluded, and so large a question cannot be 
+summarily disposed of, we may relegate it to the following book, in 
+which it will be more conveniently treated. 
+
+
+1 Matt. x. 28. 
+
+
+2 On this question compare the 24th and 25th epistles of Jerome, de obitu Lew. and de obitu 
+
+
+Blesille filie. Coquzus. 
+3 Ps. xlix. 12. 
+4 On which see further in de Peccat. Mer. i. 67 et seq. 
+
+
+° De Baptismo Parvulorum is the second half of the title of the book, de Peccatorum Meritis et 
+Remissione. 
+
+
+6 1 Cor. xv. 56. 
+
+7 Rom. vii. 12, 13 
+
+8 Literally, unregenerate. 
+9 John iii. 5. 
+
+10 Matt. x. 32. 
+
+11 Matt. xvi. 25. 
+
+12 Ps, cxvi. 15. 
+
+
+13 Much of this paradoxical statement about death is taken from Seneca. See, among other 
+places, his epistle on the premeditation of future dangers, the passage beginning, “Quotidie 
+
+
+morimur, quotidie enim demitur aliqua pars vitæ.” 
+
+14 Ecclus. xi. 28. 
+
+15 Ps, vi. 5. 
+
+16 Gen. ii. 17. 
+
+17 Gal. v. 17. 
+
+18 Gen. ii. 17. 
+
+19 Gen. iii. 9. 
+
+20 Gen. iii. 19. 
+
+21 Wisdom ix. 15. 
+
+22 A translation of part of the TimaEus, given in a little book of Cicero’s, De Universo. 
+
+
+23 Plato, in the Timæus, represents the Demiurgus as constructing the kosmos or universe to be a 
+
+
+complete representation of the idea of animal. He planted in its centre a soul, spreading outwards 
+so as to pervade the whole body of the kosmos; and then he introduced into it those various 
+species of animals which were contained in the idea of animal. Among these animals stand first 
+the celestial, the gods embodied in the stars; and of these the oldest is the earth, set in the centre 
+of all, close packed round the great axis which traverses the centre of the kosmos.—See the 
+
+
+Timeus and Grote’s Plato, iii. 250 et seq. 
+
+24 On these numbers see Grote’s Plato, iii. 254. 
+25 Virgil, Aineid, vi. 750, 751. 
+
+26 Book x. 30. 
+
+
+27 A catena of passages, showing that this is the catholic Christian faith, will be found in Bull’s 
+State of Man before the Fall (Works, vol. ii.). 
+
+
+28 1 Cor. xv. 42. 
+29 Prov. iii. 18. 
+30 1 Cor. x. 4. 
+31 Cant. iv. 13. 
+32 Ps, xlii. 6. 
+
+33 Ps, lix. 9. 
+
+
+34 Those who wish to pursue this subject will find a pretty full collection of opinions in the 
+learned commentary on Genesis by the Jesuit Pererius. Philo was, of course, the leading culprit, 
+but Ambrose and other Church fathers went nearly as far. Augustine condemns the Seleucians for 
+
+
+this among other heresies, that they denied a visible Paradise.—De Herres, 59. 
+35 Tobit xii. 19. 
+
+36 Gen. ii. 17. 
+
+37 Rom. viii. 10, 11. 
+
+38Gen. iii. 19. 
+
+39 “In uno commune factum est omnibus.” 
+40 Rom. viii. 28, 29. 
+
+41 1 Cor. xv. 42-45. 
+
+42 Gen. ii. 7. 
+
+43 1 Cor. xv. 47-49. 
+
+44 Gal. iii. 27. 
+
+45 Rom. viii. 24. 
+
+
+46 1 Cor. xv. 21, 22. 
+
+
+47 Gen. ii. 7. 
+
+48 John xx. 22. 
+
+49 Gen. ii. 6. 
+
+50 2 Cor. iv. 16. 
+
+51 1 Cor. ii. 11. 
+
+52 Eccles. iii. 21. 
+53 Ps, exlviii. 8. 
+
+54 Matt. xxviii. 19. 
+55 John iv. 24. 
+
+56 “Breath,” Eng. ver. 
+57 Gen. i. 24. 
+
+58 Ecclus. xxiv. 3. 
+59 Rev. iii. 16. 
+
+
+60 1 Cor. xv. 44-49. 
+
+
+BOOK FOURTEENTH! 
+
+
+ARGUMENT 
+
+
+AUGUSTINE AGAIN TREATS OF THE SIN OF THE FIRST MAN, AND TEACHES THAT IT IS THE CAUSE OF THE 
+CARNAL LIFE AND VICIOUS AFFECTIONS OF MAN. ESPECIALLY HE PROVES THAT THE SHAME WHICH 
+ACCOMPANIES LUST IS THE JUST PUNISHMENT OF THAT DISOBEDIENCE, AND INQUIRES HOW MAN, IF HE 
+
+
+HAD NOT SINNED, WOULD HAVE BEEN ABLE WITHOUT LUST TO PROPAGATE HIS KIND. 
+
+
+1. That the disobedience of the first man would have plunged all men into the endless misery of the 
+second death, had not the grace of God rescued many 
+
+
+W e have already stated in the preceding books that God, desiring not 
+only that the human race might be able by their similarity of 
+nature to associate with one another, but also that they might be bound 
+together in harmony and peace by the ties of relationship, was pleased 
+to derive all men from one individual, and created man with such a 
+nature that the members of the race should not have died, had not the 
+two first (of whom the one was created out of nothing, and the other out 
+of him) merited this by their disobedience; for by them so great a sin 
+was committed, that by it the human nature was altered for the worse, 
+and was transmitted also to their posterity, liable to sin and subject to 
+death. And the kingdom of death so reigned over men, that the deserved 
+penalty of sin would have hurled all headlong even into the second 
+death, of which there is no end, had not the undeserved grace of God 
+saved some therefrom. And thus it has come to pass, that though there 
+are very many and great nations all over the earth, whose rites and 
+customs, speech, arms, and dress, are distinguished by marked 
+differences, yet there are no more than two kinds of human society, 
+which we may justly call two cities, according to the language of our 
+Scriptures. The one consists of those who wish to live after the flesh, the 
+other of those who wish to live after the spirit; and when they severally 
+achieve what they wish, they live in peace, each after their kind. 
+
+
+2. Of carnal life, which is to be understood not only of living in bodily indulgence, but also of 
+
+
+living in the vices of the inner man 
+
+
+First, we must see what it is to live after the flesh, and what to live 
+after the spirit. For any one who either does not recollect, or does not 
+sufficiently weigh, the language of sacred Scripture, may, on first 
+hearing what we have said, suppose that the Epicurean philosophers live 
+after the flesh, because they place man’s highest good in bodily pleasure; 
+and that those others do so who have been of opinion that in some form 
+or other bodily good is man’s supreme good; and that the mass of men 
+do so who, without dogmatizing or philosophizing on the subject, are so 
+prone to lust that they cannot delight in any pleasure save such as they 
+receive from bodily sensations: and he may suppose that the Stoics, who 
+place the supreme good of men in the soul, live after the spirit; for what 
+is man’s soul, if not spirit? But in the sense of the divine Scripture both 
+are proved to live after the flesh. For by flesh it means not only the body 
+of a terrestrial and mortal animal, as when it says, “All flesh is not the 
+same flesh, but there is one kind of flesh of men, another flesh of beasts, 
+another of fishes, another of birds,”2 but it uses this word in many other 
+significations; and among these various usages, a frequent one is to use 
+flesh for man himself, the nature of man taking the part for the whole, as 
+in the words, “By the deeds of the law there shall no flesh be justified;”3 
+for what does he mean here by “no flesh” but “no man?” And this, 
+indeed, he shortly after says more plainly: “No man shall be justified by 
+the law;”4 and in the Epistle to the Galatians, “Knowing that a man is 
+not justified by the works of the law.” And so we understand the words, 
+“And the Word was made flesh”5—that is, man, which some not 
+accepting in its right sense, have supposed that Christ had not a human 
+soul.6 For as the whole is used for the part in the words of Mary 
+Magdalene in the Gospel, “They have taken away my Lord, and I know 
+not where they have laid Him,”” by which she meant only the flesh of 
+Christ, which she supposed had been taken from the tomb where it had 
+been buried, so the part is used for the whole, flesh being named, while 
+man is referred to, as in the quotations above cited. 
+
+Since, then, Scripture uses the word flesh in many ways, which there 
+is not time to collect and investigate, if we are to ascertain what it is to 
+live after the flesh (which is certainly evil, though the nature of flesh is 
+not itself evil), we must carefully examine that passage of the epistle 
+
+
+which the Apostle Paul wrote to the Galatians, in which he says, “Now 
+the works of the flesh are manifest, which are these: adultery, 
+fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, 
+variance, emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies, envyings, 
+murders, drunkenness, revellings, and such like: of the which I tell you 
+before, as I have also told you in time past, that they which do such 
+things shall not inherit the kingdom of God.” This whole passage of the 
+apostolic epistle being considered, so far as it bears on the matter in 
+hand, will be sufficient to answer the question, what it is to live after the 
+flesh. For among the works of the flesh which he said were manifest, and 
+which he cited for condemnation, we find not only those which concern 
+the pleasure of the flesh, as fornications, uncleanness, lasciviousness, 
+drunkenness, revellings, but also those which, though they be remote 
+from fleshly pleasure, reveal the vices of the soul. For who does not see 
+that idolatries, witchcrafts, hatreds, variance, emulations, wrath, strife, 
+heresies, envyings, are vices rather of the soul than of the flesh? For it is 
+quite possible for a man to abstain from fleshly pleasures for the sake of 
+idolatry or some heretical error; and yet, even when he does so, he is 
+proved by this apostolic authority to be living after the flesh; and in 
+abstaining from fleshly pleasure, he is proved to be practising damnable 
+works of the flesh. Who that has enmity has it not in his soul? or who 
+would say to his enemy, or to the man he thinks his enemy, You have a 
+bad flesh towards me, and not rather, You have a bad spirit towards me? 
+In fine, if any one heard of what I may call “carnalities,” he would not 
+fail to attribute them to the carnal part of man; so no one doubts that 
+“animosities” belong to the soul of man. Why then does the doctor of the 
+Gentiles in faith and verity call all these and similar things works of the 
+flesh, unless because, by that mode of speech whereby the part is used 
+for the whole, he means us to understand by the word flesh the man 
+himself? 
+
+
+3. That sin is caused not by the flesh, but by the soul, and that the corruption contracted from 
+
+
+sin is not sin, but sin’s punishment 
+
+
+But if any one says that the flesh is the cause of all vices and ill 
+conduct, inasmuch as the soul lives wickedly only because it is moved by 
+the flesh, it is certain he has not carefully considered the whole nature of 
+man. For “the corruptible body, indeed, weigheth down the soul.”9 
+
+
+Whence, too, the apostle, speaking of this corruptible body, of which he 
+had shortly before said, “though our outward man perish,”!° says, “We 
+know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we 
+have a building of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the 
+heavens. For in this we groan, earnestly desiring to be clothed upon with 
+our house which is from heaven: if so be that being clothed we shall not 
+be found naked. For we that are in this tabernacle do groan, being 
+burdened: not for that we would be unclothed, but clothed upon, that 
+mortality might be swallowed up in life.”!1 We are then burdened with 
+this corruptible body; but knowing that the cause of this burden- 
+someness is not the nature and substance of the body, but its corruption, 
+we do not desire to be deprived of the body, but to be clothed with its 
+immortality. For then, also, there will be a body, but it shall no longer 
+be a burden, being no longer corruptible. At present, then, “the 
+corruptible body presseth down the soul, and the earthly tabernacle 
+weigheth down the mind that museth upon many things,” nevertheless 
+they are in error who suppose that all the evils of the soul proceed from 
+the body. 
+
+Virgil, indeed, seems to express the sentiments of Plato in the beautiful 
+lines, where he says— 
+
+
+“A fiery strength inspires their lives, 
+
+An essence that from heaven derives, 
+Though clogged in part by limbs of clay, 
+And the dull ‘vesture of decay;’”!2 
+
+
+but though he goes on to mention the four most common mental 
+emotions—desire, fear, joy, sorrow—with the intention of showing that 
+the body is the origin of all sins and vices, saying— 
+
+
+“Hence wild desires and groveling fears, 
+And human laughter, human tears, 
+Immured in dungeon-seeming night, 
+
+
+They look abroad, yet see no light,”!3 
+
+
+yet we believe quite otherwise. For the corruption of the body, which 
+weighs down the soul, is not the cause but the punishment of the first 
+
+
+sin; and it was not the corruptible flesh that made the soul sinful, but the 
+sinful soul that made the flesh corruptible. And though from this 
+corruption of the flesh there arise certain incitements to vice, and indeed 
+vicious desires, yet we must not attribute to the flesh all the vices of a 
+wicked life, in case we thereby clear the devil of all these, for he has no 
+flesh. For though we cannot call the devil a fornicator or drunkard, or 
+ascribe to him any sensual indulgence (though he is the secret instigator 
+and prompter of those who sin in these ways), yet he is exceedingly 
+proud and envious. And this viciousness has so possessed him, that on 
+account of it he is reserved in chains of darkness to everlasting 
+punishment.!4 Now these vices, which have dominion over the devil, the 
+apostle attributes to the flesh, which certainly the devil has not. For he 
+says “hatred, variance, emulations, strife, envying” are the works of the 
+flesh; and of all these evils pride is the origin and head, and it rules in 
+the devil though he has no flesh. For who shows more hatred to the 
+saints? who is more at variance with them? who more envious, bitter, 
+and jealous? And since he exhibits all these works, though he has no 
+flesh, how are they works of the flesh, unless because they are the works 
+of man, who is, as I said, spoken of under the name of flesh? For it is not 
+by having flesh, which the devil has not, but by living according to 
+himself—that is, according to man—that man became like the devil. For 
+the devil too, wished to live according to himself when he did not abide 
+in the truth; so that when he lied, this was not of God, but of himself, 
+who is not only a liar, but the father of lies, he being the first who lied, 
+and the originator of lying as of sin. 
+
+
+4. What it is to live according to man, and what to live according to God 
+
+
+When, therefore, man lives according to man, not according to God, 
+he is like the devil. Because not even an angel might live according to an 
+angel, but only according to God, if he was to abide in the truth, and 
+speak God’s truth and not his own lie. And of man, too, the same apostle 
+says in another place, “If the truth of God hath more abounded through 
+my lie;”!5—“my lie,” he said, and “God’s truth.” When, then, a man lives 
+according to the truth, he lives not according to himself, but according 
+to God; for He was God who said, “I am the truth.”!© When, therefore, 
+man lives according to himself—that is, according to man, not according 
+to God—assuredly he lives according to a lie; not that man himself is a 
+
+
+lie, for God is his author and creator, who is certainly not the author and 
+creator of a lie, but because man was made upright, that he might not 
+live according to himself, but according to Him that made him—in other 
+words, that he might do His will and not his own; and not to live as he 
+was made to live, that is a lie. For he certainly desires to be blessed even 
+by not living so that he may be blessed. And what is a lie if this desire be 
+not? Wherefore it is not without meaning said that all sin is a lie. For no 
+sin is committed save by that desire or will by which we desire that it be 
+well with us, and shrink from it being ill with us. That, therefore, is a lie 
+which we do in order that it may be well with us, but which makes us 
+more miserable than we were. And why is this, but because the source of 
+man’s happiness lies only in God, whom he abandons when he sins, and 
+not in himself, by living according to whom he sins? 
+
+In enunciating this proposition of ours, then, that because some live 
+according to the flesh and others according to the spirit there have 
+arisen two diverse and conflicting cities, we might equally well have 
+said, “because some live according to man, others according to God.” For 
+Paul says very plainly to the Corinthians, “For whereas there is among 
+you envying and strife, are ye not carnal, and walk according to man?”!7 
+So that to walk according to man and to be carnal are the same; for by 
+flesh, that is, by a part of man, man is meant. For before he said that 
+those same persons were animal whom afterwards he calls carnal, 
+saying, “For what man knoweth the things of a man, save the spirit of 
+man which is in him? even so the things of God knoweth no man, but 
+the Spirit of God. Now we have received not the spirit of this world, but 
+the Spirit which is of God; that we might know the things which are 
+freely given to us of God. Which things also we speak, not in the words 
+which man’s wisdom teacheth, but which the Holy Ghost teacheth; 
+comparing spiritual things with spiritual. But the animal man perceiveth 
+not the things of the Spirit of God; for they are foolishness unto him.”!8 
+It is to men of this kind, then, that is, to animal men, he shortly after 
+says, “And I, brethren, could not speak unto you as unto spiritual, but as 
+unto carnal.”!9 And this is to be interpreted by the same usage, a part 
+being taken for the whole. For both the soul and the flesh, the 
+component parts of man, can be used to signify the whole man; and so 
+the animal man and the carnal man are not two different things, but one 
+and the same thing, viz. man living according to man. In the same way it 
+
+
+is nothing else than men that are meant either in the words, “By the 
+deeds of the law there shall no flesh be justified;”29 or in the words, 
+“Seventy-five souls went down into Egypt with Jacob.”2! In the one 
+passage, “no flesh” signifies “no man;” and in the other, by “seventy-five 
+souls” seventy-five men are meant. And the expression, “not in words 
+which man’s wisdom teacheth,” might equally be “not in words which 
+fleshly wisdom teacheth;” and the expression, “ye walk according to 
+man,” might be “according to the flesh.” And this is still more apparent 
+in the words which followed: “For while one saith, I am of Paul, and 
+another, I am of Apollos, are ye not men?” The same thing which he had 
+before expressed by “ye are animal,” “ye are carnal,” he now expresses 
+by “ye are men;” that is, ye live according to man, not according to God, 
+for if you lived according to Him, you should be gods. 
+
+
+5. That the opinion of the Platonists regarding the nature of body and soul is not so censurable as 
+that of the Manicheans, but that even it is objectionable, because it ascribes the origin of vices 
+to the nature of the flesh 
+
+
+There is no need, therefore, that in our sins and vices we accuse the 
+nature of the flesh to the injury of the Creator, for in its own kind and 
+degree the flesh is good; but to desert the Creator good, and live 
+according to the created good, is not good, whether a man choose to live 
+according to the flesh, or according to the soul, or according to the 
+whole human nature, which is composed of flesh and soul, and which is 
+therefore spoken of either by the name flesh alone, or by the name soul 
+alone. For he who extols the nature of the soul as the chief good, and 
+condemns the nature of the flesh as if it were evil, assuredly is fleshly 
+both in his love of the soul and hatred of the flesh; for these his feelings 
+arise from human fancy, not from divine truth. The Platonists, indeed, 
+are not so foolish as, with the Manichzans, to detest our present bodies 
+as an evil nature;22 for they attribute all the elements of which this 
+visible and tangible world is compacted, with all their qualities, to God 
+their Creator. Nevertheless, from the death-infected members and 
+earthly construction of the body they believe the soul is so affected, that 
+there are thus originated in it the diseases of desires, and fears, and joy, 
+and sorrow, under which four perturbations, as Cicero23 calls them, or 
+passions, as most prefer to name them with the Greeks, is included the 
+whole viciousness of human life. But if this be so, how is it that Æneas in 
+
+
+Virgil, when he had heard from his father in Hades that the souls should 
+return to bodies, expresses surprise at this declaration, and exclaims : 
+
+
+“O father! and can thought conceive 
+
+That happy souls this realm would leave, 
+And seek the upper sky, 
+
+With sluggish clay to reunite? 
+
+This direful longing for the light, 
+
+
+Whence comes it, say, and why?”24 
+
+
+This direful longing, then, does it still exist even in that boasted purity of 
+the disembodied spirits, and does it still proceed from the death-infected 
+members and earthly limbs? Does he not assert that, when they begin to 
+long to return to the body, they have already been delivered from all 
+these so-called pestilences of the body? From which we gather that, were 
+this endlessly alternating purification and defilement of departing and 
+returning souls as true as it is most certainly false, yet it could not be 
+averred that all culpable and vicious motions of the soul originate in the 
+earthly body; for, on their own showing, “this direful longing,” to use 
+the words of their noble exponent, is so extraneous to the body, that it 
+moves the soul that is purged of all bodily taint, and is existing apart 
+from any body whatever, and moves it, moreover, to be embodied again. 
+So that even they themselves acknowledge that the soul is not only 
+moved to desire, fear, joy, sorrow, by the flesh, but that it can also be 
+agitated with these emotions at its own instance. 
+
+
+6. Of the character of the human will which makes the affections of the soul right or wrong 
+
+
+But the character of the human will is of moment; because, if it is 
+wrong, these motions of the soul will be wrong, but if it is right, they 
+will be not merely blameless, but even praiseworthy. For the will is in 
+them all; yea, none of them is anything else than will. For what are 
+desire and joy but a volition of consent to the things we wish? And what 
+are fear and sadness but a volition of aversion from the things which we 
+do not wish? But when consent takes the form of seeking to possess the 
+things we wish, this is called desire; and when consent takes the form of 
+enjoying the things we wish, this is called joy. In like manner, when we 
+turn with aversion from that which we do not wish to happen, this 
+
+
+volition is termed fear; and when we turn away from that which has 
+happened against our will, this act of will is called sorrow. And generally 
+in respect of all that we seek or shun, as a man’s will is attracted or 
+repelled, so it is changed and turned into these different affections. 
+Wherefore the man who lives according to God, and not according to 
+man, ought to be a lover of good, and therefore a hater of evil. And since 
+no one is evil by nature, but whoever is evil is evil by vice, he who lives 
+according to God ought to cherish towards evil men a perfect hatred, so 
+that he shall neither hate the man because of his vice, nor love the vice 
+because of the man, but hate the vice and love the man. For the vice 
+being cursed, all that ought to be loved, and nothing that ought to be 
+hated, will remain. 
+
+
+7. That the words love and regard (amor and dilectio) are in Scripture used indifferently of 
+
+
+good and evil affection 
+
+
+He who resolves to love God, and to love his neighbour as himself, not 
+according to man but according to God, is on account of this love said to 
+be of a good will; and this is in Scripture more commonly called charity, 
+but it is also, even in the same books, called love. For the apostle says 
+that the man to be elected as a ruler of the people must be a lover of 
+good.25 And when the Lord Himself had asked Peter, “Hast thou a regard 
+for me (diligis) more than these?” Peter replied, “Lord, Thou knowest 
+that I love (amo) Thee.” And again a second time the Lord asked not 
+whether Peter loved (amaret) Him, but whether he had a regard 
+(diligeret) for Him, and he again answered, “Lord, Thou knowest that I 
+love (amo) Thee.” But on the third interrogation the Lord Himself no 
+longer says, “Hast thou a regard (diligis) for me,” but “Lovest thou (amas) 
+me?” And then the evangelist adds, “Peter was grieved because He said 
+unto him the third time, Lovest thou (amas) me?” though the Lord had 
+not said three times but only once, “Lovest thou (amas) me?” and twice 
+“Diligis me?” from which we gather that, even when the Lord said, 
+“diligis,” He used an equivalent for “amas.” Peter, too, throughout used 
+one word for the one thing, and the third time also replied, “Lord, Thou 
+knowest all things, Thou knowest that I love (amo) Thee.”26 
+
+I have judged it right to mention this, because some are of opinion 
+that charity or regard (dilectio) is one thing, love (amor) another. They 
+say that dilectio is used of a good affection, amor of an evil love. But it is 
+
+
+very certain that even secular literature knows no such distinction. 
+However, it is for the philosophers to determine whether and how they 
+differ, though their own writings sufficiently testify that they make great 
+account of love (amor) placed on good objects, and even on God Himself. 
+But we wished to show that the Scriptures of our religion, whose 
+authority we prefer to all writings whatsoever, make no distinction 
+between amor, dilectio, and caritas; and we have already shown that amor 
+is used in a good connection. And if any one fancy that amor is no doubt 
+used both of good and bad loves, but that dilectio is reserved for the good 
+only, let him remember what the psalm says, “He that loveth (diligit) 
+iniquity hateth his own soul;”27 and the words of the Apostle John, “If 
+any man love (diligere) the world, the love (dilectio) of the Father is not 
+in him.”28 Here you have in one passage dilectio used both in a good and 
+a bad sense. And if any one demands an instance of amor being used in a 
+bad sense (for we have already shown its use in a good sense), let him 
+read the words, “For men shall be lovers (amantes) of their own selves, 
+lovers (amatores) of money.”29 
+
+The right will is, therefore, well-directed love, and the wrong will is 
+ill-directed love. Love, then, yearning to have what is loved, is desire; 
+and having and enjoying it, is joy; fleeing what is opposed to it, is fear; 
+and feeling what is opposed to it, when it has befallen it, it is sadness. 
+Now these motions are evil if the love is evil; good if the love is good. 
+What we assert let us prove from Scripture. The apostle “desires to 
+depart, and to be with Christ.”30 And, “My soul desired to long for Thy 
+judgments;”3! or if it is more appropriate to say, “My soul longed to 
+desire Thy judgments.” And, “The desire of wisdom bringeth to a 
+kingdom.”32 Yet there has always obtained the usage of understanding 
+desire and concupiscence in a bad sense if the object be not defined. But 
+joy is used in a good sense: “Be glad in the Lord, and rejoice, ye 
+righteous.”33 And, “Thou hast put gladness in my heart.”34 And, “Thou 
+wilt fill me with joy with Thy countenance.”35 Fear is used in a good 
+sense by the apostle when he says, “Work out your salvation with fear 
+and trembling.”36 And, “Be not high-minded, but fear.”37 And, “I fear, 
+lest by any means, as the serpent beguiled Eve through his subtilty, so 
+your minds should be corrupted from the simplicity that is in Christ.”38 
+But with respect to sadness, which Cicero prefers to call sickness 
+(egritudo), and Virgil pain (dolor) (as he says, “Dolent gaudentque”3?), but 
+
+
+which I prefer to call sorrow, because sickness and pain are more 
+commonly used to express bodily suffering—with respect to this 
+emotion, I say, the question whether it can be used in a good sense is 
+more difficult. 
+
+
+8. Of the three perturbations, which the Stoics admitted in the soul of the wise man to the exclusion 
+
+
+of grief or sadness, which the manly mind ought not to experience 
+
+
+Those emotions which the Greeks call eixafeia, and which Cicero calls 
+constantie, the Stoics would restrict to three; and, instead of three 
+“perturbations” in the soul of the wise man, they substituted severally, in 
+place of desire, will; in place of joy, contentment; and for fear, caution; 
+and as to sickness or pain, which we, to avoid ambiguity, preferred to 
+call sorrow, they denied that it could exist in the mind of a wise man. 
+Will, they say, seeks the good, for this the wise man does. Contentment 
+has its object in good that is possessed, and this the wise man 
+continually possesses. Caution avoids evil, and this the wise man ought 
+to avoid. But sorrow arises from evil that has already happened; and as 
+they suppose that no evil can happen to the wise man, there can be no 
+representative of sorrow in his mind. According to them, therefore, none 
+but the wise man wills, is contented, uses caution; and that the fool can 
+do no more than desire, rejoice, fear, be sad. The former three affections 
+Cicero calls constantie, the last four perturbationes. Many, however, call 
+these last passions; and, as I have said, the Greeks call the former einateta:, 
+and the latter *#64, And when I made a careful examination of Scripture 
+to find whether this terminology was sanctioned by it, I came upon this 
+saying of the prophet: “There is no contentment to the wicked, saith the 
+Lord;”49 as if the wicked might more properly rejoice than be contented 
+regarding evils, for contentment is the property of the good and godly. I 
+found also that verse in the Gospel: “Whatsoever ye would that men 
+should do unto you, do ye even so unto them;”4! which seems to imply 
+that evil or shameful things may be the object of desire, but not of will. 
+Indeed, some interpreters have added “good things” to make the 
+expression more in conformity with customary usage, and have given 
+this meaning, “Whatsoever good deeds that ye would that men should 
+do unto you.” For they thought that this would prevent any one from 
+wishing other men to provide him with unseemly, not to say shameful, 
+gratifications—luxurious banquets, for example—on the supposition that 
+
+
+if he returned the like to them he would be fulfilling this precept. In the 
+Greek Gospel, however, from which the Latin is translated, “good” does 
+not occur, but only, “All things whatsoever ye would that men should do 
+unto you, do ye even so unto them,” and, as I believe, because “good” is 
+already included in the word “would;” for He does not say “desire.” 
+
+Yet though we may sometimes avail ourselves of these precise 
+proprieties of language, we are not to be always bridled by them; and 
+when we read those writers against whose authority it is unlawful to 
+reclaim, we must accept the meanings above mentioned in passages 
+where a right sense can be educed by no other interpretation, as in those 
+instances we adduced partly from the prophet, partly from the Gospel. 
+For who does not know that the wicked exult with joy? Yet “there is no 
+contentment for the wicked, saith the Lord.” And how so, unless because 
+contentment, when the word is used in its proper and distinctive 
+significance, means something different from joy? In like manner, who 
+would deny that it were wrong to enjoin upon men that whatever they 
+desire others to do to them they should themselves do to others, lest 
+they should mutually please one another by shameful and illicit 
+pleasure? And yet the precept, “Whatsoever ye would that men should do 
+unto you, do ye even so to them,” is very wholesome and just. And how 
+is this, unless because the will is in this place used strictly, and signifies 
+that will which cannot have evil for its object? But ordinary phraseology 
+would not have allowed the saying, “Be unwilling to make any manner 
+of lie,”42 had there not been also an evil will, whose wickedness 
+separates it from that which the angels celebrated, “Peace on earth, of 
+good will to men.”43 For “good” is superfluous if there is no other kind 
+of will but good will. And why should the apostle have mentioned it 
+among the praises of charity as a great thing, that “it rejoices not in 
+iniquity,” unless because wickedness does so rejoice? For even with 
+secular writers these words are used indifferently. For Cicero, that most 
+fertile of orators, says, “I desire, conscript fathers, to be merciful.”44 And 
+who would be so pedantic as to say that he should have said “I will” 
+rather than “I desire,” because the word is used in a good connection? 
+Again, in Terence, the profligate youth, burning with wild lust, says, “I 
+will nothing else than Philumena.”45 That this “will” was lust is 
+sufficiently indicated by the answer of his old servant which is there 
+introduced: “How much better were it to try and banish that love from 
+
+
+your heart, than to speak so as uselessly to inflame your passion still 
+more!” And that contentment was used by secular writers in a bad sense, 
+that verse of Virgil testifies, in which he most succinctly comprehends 
+these four perturbations— 
+
+
+“Hence they fear and desire, grieve and are content”4® 
+
+
+The same author had also used the expression, “the evil contentments of 
+the mind.”4” So that good and bad men alike will, are cautious, and 
+contented; or, to say the same thing in other words, good and bad men 
+alike desire, fear, rejoice, but the former in a good, the latter in a bad 
+fashion, according as the will is right or wrong. Sorrow itself, too, which 
+the Stoics would not allow to be represented in the mind of the wise 
+man, is used in a good sense, and especially in our writings. For the 
+apostle praises the Corinthians because they had a godly sorrow. But 
+possibly some one may say that the apostle congratulated them because 
+they were penitently sorry, and that such sorrow can exist only in those 
+who have sinned. For these are his words: “For I perceive that the same 
+epistle hath made you sorry, though it were but for a season. Now I 
+rejoice, not that ye were made sorry, but that ye sorrowed to repentance; 
+for ye were made sorry after a godly manner, that ye might receive 
+damage by us in nothing. For godly sorrow worketh repentance to 
+salvation not to be repented of, but the sorrow of the world worketh 
+death. For, behold, this selfsame thing that ye sorrowed after a godly 
+sort, what carefulness it wrought in you!”48 Consequently the Stoics may 
+defend themselves by replying,#2 that sorrow is indeed useful for 
+repentance of sin, but that this can have no place in the mind of the wise 
+man, inasmuch as no sin attaches to him of which he could sorrowfully 
+repent, nor any other evil the endurance or experience of which could 
+make him sorrowful. For they say that Alcibiades (if my memory does 
+not deceive me), who believed himself happy, shed tears when Socrates 
+argued with him, and demonstrated that he was miserable because he 
+was foolish. In his case, therefore, folly was the cause of this useful and 
+desirable sorrow, wherewith a man mourns that he is what he ought not 
+to be. But the Stoics maintain not that the fool, but that the wise man, 
+cannot be sorrowful. 
+
+
+9. Of the perturbations of the soul which appear as right affections in the life of the righteous 
+
+
+But so far as regards this question of mental perturbations, we have 
+answered these philosophers in the ninth book5° of this work, showing 
+that it is rather a verbal than a real dispute, and that they seek 
+contention rather than truth. Among ourselves, according to the sacred 
+Scriptures and sound doctrine, the citizens of the holy city of God, who 
+live according to God in the pilgrimage of this life, both fear and desire, 
+and grieve and rejoice. And because their love is rightly placed, all these 
+affections of theirs are right. They fear eternal punishment, they desire 
+eternal life; they grieve because they themselves groan within 
+themselves, waiting for the adoption, the redemption of their body;5! 
+they rejoice in hope, because there “shall be brought to pass the saying 
+that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory.”52 In like manner they 
+fear to sin, they desire to persevere; they grieve in sin, they rejoice in 
+good works. They fear to sin, because they hear that “because iniquity 
+shall abound, the love of many shall wax cold.”53 They desire to 
+persevere, because they hear that it is written, “He that endureth to the 
+end shall be saved.”54 They grieve for sin, hearing that “If we say that 
+we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.”55 They 
+rejoice in good works, because they hear that “the Lord loveth a cheerful 
+giver.”56 In like manner, according as they are strong or weak, they fear 
+or desire to be tempted, grieve or rejoice in temptation. They fear to be 
+tempted, because they hear the injunction, “If a man be overtaken in a 
+fault, ye which are spiritual restore such an one in the spirit of 
+meekness; considering thyself, lest thou also be tempted.”57 They desire 
+to be tempted, because they hear one of the heroes of the city of God 
+saying, “Examine me, O Lord, and tempt me: try my reins and my 
+heart.”58 They grieve in temptations, because they see Peter weeping;°?9 
+they rejoice in temptations, because they hear James saying, “My 
+brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations.”6° 
+
+And not only on their own account do they experience these emotions, 
+but also on account of those whose deliverance they desire and whose 
+perdition they fear, and whose loss or salvation affects them with grief 
+or with joy. For if we who have come into the Church from among the 
+Gentiles may suitably instance that noble and mighty hero who glories 
+in his infirmities, the teacher (doctor) of the nations in faith and truth, 
+who also laboured more than all his fellow-apostles, and instructed the 
+tribes of God’s people by his epistles, which edified not only those of his 
+
+
+own time, but all those who were to be gathered in—that hero, I say, 
+and athlete of Christ, instructed by Him, anointed of His Spirit, crucified 
+with Him, glorious in Him, lawfully maintaining a great conflict on the 
+theatre of this world, and being made a spectacle to angels and men,®! 
+and pressing onwards for the prize of his high calling®62—-very joyfully do 
+we with the eyes of faith behold him rejoicing with them that rejoice, 
+and weeping with them that weep;63 though hampered by fightings 
+without and fears within;6* desiring to depart and to be with Christ; 
+longing to see the Romans, that he might have some fruit among them as 
+among other Gentiles; being jealous over the Corinthians, and fearing 
+in that jealousy lest their minds should be corrupted from the chastity 
+that is in Christ;67 having great heaviness and continual sorrow of heart 
+for the Israelites,©8 because they, being ignorant of God’s righteousness, 
+and going about to establish their own righteousness, have not 
+submitted themselves unto the righteousness of God;®? and expressing 
+not only his sorrow, but bitter lamentation over some who had formerly 
+sinned and had not repented of their uncleanness and fornications.79 
+
+If these emotions and affections, arising as they do from the love of 
+what is good and from a holy charity, are to be called vices, then let us 
+allow these emotions which are truly vices to pass under the name of 
+virtues. But since these affections, when they are exercised in a 
+becoming way, follow the guidance of right reason, who will dare to say 
+that they are diseases or vicious passions? Wherefore even the Lord 
+Himself, when He condescended to lead a human life in the form of a 
+slave, had no sin whatever, and yet exercised these emotions where He 
+judged they should be exercised. For as there was in Him a true human 
+body and a true human soul, so was there also a true human emotion. 
+When, therefore, we read in the Gospel that the hard-heartedness of the 
+Jews moved Him to sorrowful indignation,”! that He said, “I am glad for 
+your sakes, to the intent ye may believe,”72 that when about to raise 
+Lazarus He even shed tears,73 that He earnestly desired to eat the 
+passover with His disciples,74 that as His passion drew near His soul was 
+sorrowful,”5 these emotions are certainly not falsely ascribed to Him. But 
+as He became man when it pleased Him, so, in the grace of His definite 
+purpose, when it pleased Him He experienced those emotions in His 
+human soul. 
+
+But we must further make the admission, that even when these 
+
+
+affections are well regulated, and according to God’s will, they are 
+peculiar to this life, not to that future life we look for, and that often we 
+yield to them against our will. And thus sometimes we weep in spite of 
+ourselves, being carried beyond ourselves, not indeed by culpable desire, 
+but by praiseworthy charity. In us, therefore, these affections arise from 
+human infirmity; but it was not so with the Lord Jesus, for even His 
+infirmity was the consequence of His power. But so long as we wear the 
+infirmity of this life, we are rather worse men than better if we have 
+none of these emotions at all. For the apostle vituperated and 
+abominated some who, as he said, were “without natural affection.”76 
+The sacred Psalmist also found fault with those of whom he said, “I 
+looked for some to lament with me, and there was none.”’7 For to be 
+quite free from pain while we are in this place of misery is only 
+purchased, as one of this world’s literati perceived and remarked,’® at 
+the price of blunted sensibilities both of mind and body. And therefore 
+that which the Greeks call éxdé6ea, and what the Latins would call, if their 
+language would allow them, “impassibilitas,” if it be taken to mean an 
+impassibility of spirit and not of body, or, in other words, a freedom 
+from those emotions which are contrary to reason and disturb the mind, 
+then it is obviously a good and most desirable quality, but it is not one 
+which is attainable in this life. For the words of the apostle are the 
+confession, not of the common herd, but of the eminently pious, just, 
+and holy men: “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the 
+truth is not in us.”72 When there shall be no sin in a man, then there 
+shall be this ráðs. At present it is enough if we live without crime; and 
+he who thinks he lives without sin puts aside not sin, but pardon. And if 
+that is to be called apathy, where the mind is the subject of no emotion, 
+then who would not consider this insensibility to be worse than all 
+vices? It may, indeed, reasonably be maintained that the perfect 
+blessedness we hope for shall be free from all sting of fear or sadness; 
+but who that is not quite lost to truth would say that neither love nor joy 
+shall be experienced there? But if by apathy a condition be meant in 
+which no fear terrifies nor any pain annoys, we must in this life 
+renounce such a state if we would live according to God’s will, but may 
+hope to enjoy it in that blessedness which is promised as our eternal 
+condition. 
+
+For that fear of which the Apostle John says, “There is no fear in love; 
+
+
+but perfect love casteth out fear, because fear hath torment. He that 
+feareth is not made perfect in love”’8°—that fear is not of the same kind 
+as the Apostle Paul felt lest the Corinthians should be seduced by the 
+subtlety of the serpent; for love is susceptible of this fear, yea, love alone 
+is capable of it. But the fear which is not in love is of that kind of which 
+Paul himself says, “For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again 
+to fear.”81 But as for that “clean fear which endureth for ever,”82 if it is 
+to exist in the world to come (and how else can it be said to endure for 
+ever?), it is not a fear deterring us from evil which may happen, but 
+preserving us in the good which cannot be lost. For where the love of 
+acquired good is unchangeable, there certainly the fear that avoids evil 
+is, if I may say so, free from anxiety. For under the name of “clean fear” 
+David signifies that will by which we shall necessarily shrink from sin, 
+and guard against it, not with the anxiety of weakness, which fears that 
+we may strongly sin, but with the tranquillity of perfect love. Or if no 
+kind of fear at all shall exist in that most imperturbable security of 
+perpetual and blissful delights, then the expression, “The fear of the Lord 
+is clean, enduring for ever,” must be taken in the same sense as that 
+other, “The patience of the poor shall not perish for ever.”83 For 
+patience, which is necessary only where ills are to be borne, shall not be 
+eternal, but that which patience leads us to will be eternal. So perhaps 
+this “clean fear” is said to endure for ever, because that to which fear 
+leads shall endure. 
+
+And since this is so—since we must live a good life in order to attain 
+to a blessed life—a good life has all these affections right, a bad life has 
+them wrong. But in the blessed life eternal there will be love and joy, 
+not only right, but also assured; but fear and grief there will be none. 
+Whence it already appears in some sort what manner of persons the 
+citizens of the city of God must be in this their pilgrimage, who live after 
+the spirit, not after the flesh—that is to say, according to God, not 
+according to man—and what manner of persons they shall be also in 
+that immortality whither they are journeying. And the city or society of 
+the wicked, who live not according to God, but according to man, and 
+who accept the doctrines of men or devils in the worship of a false and 
+contempt of the true divinity, is shaken with those wicked emotions as 
+by diseases and disturbances. And if there be some of its citizens who 
+seem to restrain and, as it were, temper those passions, they are so 
+
+
+elated with ungodly pride, that their disease is as much greater as their 
+pain is less. And if some, with a vanity monstrous in proportion to its 
+rarity, have become enamoured of themselves because they can be 
+stimulated and excited by no emotion, moved or bent by no affection, 
+such persons rather lose all humanity than obtain true tranquillity. For a 
+thing is not necessarily right because it is inflexible, nor healthy because 
+it is insensible. 
+
+
+10. Whether it is to be believed that our first parents in Paradise, before they sinned, were free 
+from all perturbation 
+
+
+But it is a fair question, whether our first parent or first parents (for 
+there was a marriage of two), before they sinned, experienced in their 
+animal body such emotions as we shall not experience in the spiritual 
+body when sin has been purged and finally abolished. For if they did, 
+then how were they blessed in that boasted place of bliss, Paradise? For 
+who that is affected by fear or grief can be called absolutely blessed? 
+And what could those persons fear or suffer in such affluence of 
+blessings, where neither death nor ill-health was feared, and where 
+nothing was wanting which a good will could desire, and nothing 
+present which could interrupt man’s mental or bodily enjoyment? Their 
+love to God was unclouded, and their mutual affection was that of 
+faithful and sincere marriage; and from this love flowed a wonderful 
+delight, because they always enjoyed what was loved. Their avoidance 
+of sin was tranquil; and, so long as it was maintained, no other ill at all 
+could invade them and bring sorrow. Or did they perhaps desire to touch 
+and eat the forbidden fruit, yet feared to die; and thus both fear and 
+desire already, even in that blissful place, preyed upon those first of 
+mankind? Away with the thought that such could be the case where 
+there was no sin! And, indeed, this is already sin, to desire those things 
+which the law of God forbids, and to abstain from them through fear of 
+punishment, not through love of righteousness. Away, I say, with the 
+thought, that before there was any sin, there should already have been 
+committed regarding that fruit the very sin which our Lord warns us 
+against regarding a woman: “Whosoever looketh on a woman to lust 
+after her, hath committed adultery with her already in his heart.”84 As 
+happy, then, as were these our first parents, who were agitated by no 
+mental perturbations, and annoyed by no bodily discomforts, so happy 
+
+
+should the whole human race have been, had they not introduced that 
+evil which they have transmitted to their posterity, and had none of 
+their descendants committed iniquity worthy of damnation; but this 
+original blessedness continuing until, in virtue of that benediction which 
+said, “Increase and multiply,”85 the number of the predestined saints 
+should have been completed, there would then have been bestowed that 
+higher felicity which is enjoyed by the most blessed angels—a 
+blessedness in which there should have been a secure assurance that no 
+one would sin, and no one die; and so should the saints have lived, after 
+no taste of labour, pain, or death, as now they shall live in the 
+resurrection, after they have endured all these things. 
+
+
+11. Of the fall of the first man, in whom nature was created good, and can be restored only by 
+its Author 
+
+
+But because God foresaw all things, and was therefore not ignorant 
+that man also would fall, we ought to consider this holy city in 
+connection with what God foresaw and ordained, and not according to 
+our own ideas, which do not embrace God’s ordination. For man, by his 
+sin, could not disturb the divine counsel, nor compel God to change 
+what He had decreed; for God’s foreknowledge had anticipated both— 
+that is to say, both how evil the man whom He had created good should 
+become, and what good He Himself should even thus derive from him. 
+For though God is said to change His determinations (so that in a 
+tropical sense the Holy Scripture says even that God repented®®), this is 
+said with reference to man’s expectation, or the order of natural causes, 
+and not with reference to that which the Almighty had foreknown that 
+He would do. Accordingly God, as it is written, made man upright,87 and 
+consequently with a good will. For if he had not had a good will, he 
+could not have been upright. The good will, then, is the work of God; for 
+God created him with it. But the first evil will, which preceded all man’s 
+evil acts, was rather a kind of falling away from the work of God to its 
+own works than any positive work. And therefore the acts resulting were 
+evil, not having God, but the will itself for their end; so that the will or 
+the man himself, so far as his will is bad, was as it were the evil tree 
+bringing forth evil fruit. Moreover, the bad will, though it be not in 
+harmony with, but opposed to nature, inasmuch as it is a vice or 
+blemish, yet it is true of it as of all vice, that it cannot exist except in a 
+
+
+nature, and only in a nature created out of nothing, and not in that 
+which the Creator has begotten of Himself, as He begot the Word, by 
+whom all things were made. For though God formed man of the dust of 
+the earth, yet the earth itself, and every earthly material, is absolutely 
+created out of nothing; and man’s soul, too, God created out of nothing, 
+and joined to the body, when He made a man. But evils are so 
+thoroughly overcome by good, that though they are permitted to exist, 
+for the sake of demonstrating how the most righteous foresight of God 
+can make a good use even of them, yet good can exist without evil, as in 
+the true and supreme God Himself, and as in every invisible and visible 
+celestial creature that exists above this murky atmosphere; but evil 
+cannot exist without good, because the natures in which evil exists, in so 
+far as they are natures, are good. And evil is removed, not by removing 
+any nature, or part of a nature, which had been introduced by the evil, 
+but by healing and correcting that which had been vitiated and 
+depraved. The will, therefore, is then truly free, when it is not the slave 
+of vices and sins. Such was it given us by God; and this being lost by its 
+own fault, can only be restored by Him who was able at first to give it. 
+And therefore the truth says, “If the Son shall make you free, ye shall be 
+free indeed;”88 which is equivalent to saying, If the Son shall save you, 
+ye shall be saved indeed. For He is our Liberator, inasmuch as He is our 
+Saviour. 
+
+Man then lived with God for his rule in a paradise at once physical 
+and spiritual. For neither was it a paradise only physical for the 
+advantage of the body, and not also spiritual for the advantage of the 
+mind; nor was it only spiritual to afford enjoyment to man by his 
+internal sensations, and not also physical to afford him enjoyment 
+through his external senses. But obviously it was both for both ends. But 
+after that proud and therefore envious angel (of whose fall I have said as 
+much as I was able in the eleventh and twelfth books of this work, as 
+well as that of his fellows, who, from being God’s angels, became his 
+angels), preferring to rule with a kind of pomp of empire rather than to 
+be another’s subject, fell from the spiritual Paradise, and essaying to 
+insinuate his persuasive guile into the mind of man, whose unfallen 
+condition provoked him to envy now that himself was fallen, he chose 
+the serpent as his mouthpiece in that bodily Paradise in which it and all 
+the other earthly animals were living with those two human beings, the 
+
+
+man and his wife, subject to them, and harmless; and he chose the 
+serpent because, being slippery, and moving in tortuous windings, it was 
+suitable for his purpose. And this animal being subdued to his wicked 
+ends by the presence and superior force of his angelic nature, he abused 
+as his instrument, and first tried his deceit upon the woman, making his 
+assault upon the weaker part of that human alliance, that he might 
+gradually gain the whole, and not supposing that the man would readily 
+give ear to him, or be deceived, but that he might yield to the error of 
+the woman. For as Aaron was not induced to agree with the people 
+when they blindly wished him to make an idol, and yet yielded to 
+constraint; and as it is not credible that Solomon was so blind as to 
+suppose that idols should be worshipped, but was drawn over to such 
+sacrilege by the blandishments of women; so we cannot believe that 
+Adam was deceived, and supposed the devil’s word to be truth, and 
+therefore transgressed God’s law, but that he by the drawings of kindred 
+yielded to the woman, the husband to the wife, the one human being to 
+the only other human being. For not without significance did the apostle 
+say, “And Adam was not deceived, but the woman being deceived was in 
+the transgression;”89 but he speaks thus, because the woman accepted as 
+true what the serpent told her, but the man could not bear to be severed 
+from his only companion, even though this involved a partnership in sin. 
+He was not on this account less culpable, but sinned with his eyes open. 
+And so the apostle does not say, “He did not sin,” but “He was not 
+deceived.” For he shows that he sinned when he says, “By one man sin 
+entered into the world,”9° and immediately after more distinctly, “In the 
+likeness of Adam’s transgression.” But he meant that those are deceived 
+who do not judge that which they do to be sin; but he knew. Otherwise 
+how were it true “Adam was not deceived?” But having as yet no 
+experience of the divine severity, he was possibly deceived in so far as 
+he thought his sin venial. And consequently he was not deceived as the 
+woman was deceived, but he was deceived as to the judgment which 
+would be passed on his apology: “The woman whom thou gavest to be 
+with me, she gave me, and I did eat.”9! What need of saying more? 
+Although they were not both deceived by credulity, yet both were 
+entangled in the snares of the devil, and taken by sin. 
+
+
+12. Of the nature of man’s first sin 
+
+
+If any one finds a difficulty in understanding why other sins do not 
+alter human nature as it was altered by the transgression of those first 
+human beings, so that on account of it this nature is subject to the great 
+corruption we feel and see, and to death, and is distracted and tossed 
+with so many furious and contending emotions, and is certainly far 
+different from what it was before sin, even though it were then lodged in 
+an animal body—if, I say, any one is moved by this, he ought not to 
+think that that sin was a small and light one because it was committed 
+about food, and that not bad nor noxious, except because it was 
+forbidden; for in that spot of singular felicity God could not have created 
+and planted any evil thing. But by the precept He gave, God commended 
+obedience, which is, in a sort, the mother and guardian of all the virtues 
+in the reasonable creature, which was so created that submission is 
+advantageous to it, while the fulfilment of its own will in preference to 
+the Creator’s is destruction. And as this commandment enjoining 
+abstinence from one kind of food in the midst of great abundance of 
+other kinds was so easy to keep—so light a burden to the memory—and, 
+above all, found no resistance to its observance in lust, which only 
+afterwards sprung up as the penal consequence of sin, the iniquity of 
+violating it was all the greater in proportion to the ease with which it 
+might have been kept. 
+
+
+13. That in Adam’s sin an evil will preceded the evil act 
+
+
+Our first parents fell into open disobedience because already they 
+were secretly corrupted; for the evil act had never been done had not an 
+evil will preceded it. And what is the origin of our evil will but pride? 
+For “pride is the beginning of sin.”92 And what is pride but the craving 
+for undue exaltation? And this is undue exaltation, when the soul 
+abandons Him to whom it ought to cleave as its end, and becomes a kind 
+of end to itself. This happens when it becomes its own satisfaction. And 
+it does so when it falls away from that unchangeable good which ought 
+to satisfy it more than itself. This falling away is spontaneous; for if the 
+will had remained stedfast in the love of that higher and changeless 
+good by which it was illumined to intelligence and kindled into love, it 
+would not have turned away to find satisfaction in itself, and so become 
+frigid and benighted; the woman would not have believed the serpent 
+spoke the truth, nor would the man have preferred the request of his 
+
+
+wife to the command of God, nor have supposed that it was a venial 
+transgression to cleave to the partner of his life even in a partnership of 
+sin. The wicked deed, then—that is to say, the transgression of eating 
+the forbidden fruit—was committed by persons who were already 
+wicked. That “evil fruit”93 could be brought forth only by “a corrupt 
+tree.” But that the tree was evil was not the result of nature; for certainly 
+it could become so only by the vice of the will, and vice is contrary to 
+nature. Now, nature could not have been depraved by vice had it not 
+been made out of nothing. Consequently, that it is a nature, this is 
+because it is made by God; but that it falls away from Him, this is 
+because it is made out of nothing. But man did not so fall away% as to 
+become absolutely nothing; but being turned towards himself, his being 
+became more contracted than it was when he clave to Him who 
+supremely is. Accordingly, to exist in himself, that is, to be his own 
+satisfaction after abandoning God, is not quite to become a nonentity, 
+but to approximate to that. And therefore the holy Scriptures designate 
+the proud by another name, “self-pleasers.” For it is good to have the 
+heart lifted up, yet not to one’s self, for this is proud, but to the Lord, for 
+this is obedient, and can be the act only of the humble. There is, 
+therefore, something in humility which, strangely enough, exalts the 
+heart, and something in pride which debases it. This seems, indeed, to be 
+contradictory, that loftiness should debase and lowliness exalt. But pious 
+humility enables us to submit to what is above us; and nothing is more 
+exalted above us than God; and therefore humility, by making us subject 
+to God, exalts us. But pride, being a defect of nature, by the very act of 
+refusing subjection and revolting from Him who is supreme, falls to a 
+low condition; and then comes to pass what is written: “Thou castedst 
+them down when they lifted up themselves.”95 For he does not say, 
+“when they had been lifted up,” as if first they were exalted, and then 
+afterwards cast down; but “when they lifted up themselves” even then 
+they were cast down—that is to say, the very lifting up was already a 
+fall. And therefore it is that humility is specially recommended to the 
+city of God as it sojourns in this world, and is specially exhibited in the 
+city of God, and in the person of Christ its King; while the contrary vice 
+of pride, according to the testimony of the sacred writings, specially 
+rules his adversary the devil. And certainly this is the great difference 
+which distinguishes the two cities of which we speak, the one being the 
+
+
+society of the godly men, the other of the ungodly, each associated with 
+the angels that adhere to their party, and the one guided and fashioned 
+by love of self, the other by love of God. 
+
+The devil, then, would not have ensnared man in the open and 
+manifest sin of doing what God had forbidden, had man not already 
+begun to live for himself. It was this that made him listen with pleasure 
+to the words, “Ye shall be as gods,”96 which they would much more 
+readily have accomplished by obediently adhering to their supreme and 
+true end than by proudly living to themselves. For created gods are gods 
+not by virtue of what is in themselves, but by a participation of the true 
+God. By craving to be more, man becomes less; and by aspiring to be 
+self-sufficing, he fell away from Him who ttruly suffices him. 
+Accordingly, this wicked desire which prompts man to please himself as 
+if he were himself light, and which thus turns him away from that light 
+by which, had he followed it, he would himself have become light—this 
+wicked desire, I say, already secretly existed in him, and the open sin 
+was but its consequence. For that is true which is written, “Pride goeth 
+before destruction, and before honour is humility;”97 that is to say, 
+secret ruin precedes open ruin, while the former is not counted ruin. For 
+who counts exaltation ruin, though no sooner is the Highest forsaken 
+than a fall is begun? But who does not recognise it as ruin, when there 
+occurs an evident and indubitable transgression of the commandment? 
+And consequently, God’s prohibition had reference to such an act as, 
+when committed, could not be defended on any pretence of doing what 
+was righteous.28 And I make bold to say that it is useful for the proud to 
+fall into an open and indisputable transgression, and so displease 
+themselves, as already, by pleasing themselves, they had fallen. For 
+Peter was in a healthier condition when he wept and was dissatisfied 
+with himself, than when he boldly presumed and satisfied himself. And 
+this is averred by the sacred Psalmist when he says, “Fill their faces with 
+shame, that they may seek Thy name, O Lord;”99 that is, that they who 
+have pleased themselves in seeking their own glory may be pleased and 
+satisfied with Thee in seeking Thy glory. 
+
+
+14. Of the pride in the sin, which was worse than the sin itself 
+
+
+But it is a worse and more damnable pride which casts about for the 
+shelter of an excuse even in manifest sins, as these our first parents did, 
+
+
+of whom the woman said, “The serpent beguiled me, and I did eat;” and 
+the man said, “The woman whom Thou gavest to be with me, she gave 
+me of the tree, and I did eat.”!00 Here there is no word of begging 
+pardon, no word of entreaty for healing. For though they do not, like 
+Cain, deny that they have perpetrated the deed, yet their pride seeks to 
+refer its wickedness to another—the woman’s pride to the serpent, the 
+man’s to the woman. But where there is a plain transgression of a divine 
+commandment, this is rather to accuse than to excuse oneself. For the 
+fact that the woman sinned on the serpent’s persuasion, and the man at 
+the woman’s offer, did not make the transgression less, as if there were 
+any one whom we ought rather to believe or yield to than God. 
+
+
+15. Of the justice of the punishment with which our first parents were visited for their 
+disobedience 
+
+
+Therefore, because the sin was a despising of the authority of God— 
+who had created man; who had made him in His own image; who had 
+set him above the other animals; who had placed him in Paradise; who 
+had enriched him with abundance of every kind and of safety; who had 
+laid upon him neither many, nor great, nor difficult commandments, but, 
+in order to make a wholesome obedience easy to him, had given him a 
+single very brief and very light precept by which He reminded that 
+creature whose service was to be free that He was Lord—it was just that 
+condemnation followed, and condemnation such that man, who by 
+keeping the commandments should have been spiritual even in his flesh, 
+became fleshly even in his spirit; and as in his pride he had sought to be 
+his own satisfaction, God in His justice abandoned him to himself, not to 
+live in the absolute independence he affected, but instead of the liberty 
+he desired, to live dissatisfied with himself in a hard and miserable 
+bondage to him to whom by sinning he had yielded himself, doomed in 
+spite of himself to die in body as he had willingly become dead in spirit, 
+condemned even to eternal death (had not the grace of God delivered 
+him) because he had forsaken eternal life. Whoever thinks such 
+punishment either excessive or unjust shows his inability to measure the 
+great iniquity of sinning where sin might so easily have been avoided. 
+For as Abraham’s obedience is with justice pronounced to be great, 
+because the thing commanded, to kill his son, was very difficult, so in 
+Paradise the disobedience was the greater, because the difficulty of that 
+
+
+which was commanded was imperceptible. And as the obedience of the 
+second Man was the more laudable because He became obedient even 
+“unto death,”!91 so the disobedience of the first man was the more 
+detestable because he became disobedient even unto death. For where 
+the penalty annexed to disobedience is great, and the thing commanded 
+by the Creator is easy, who can sufficiently estimate how great a 
+wickedness it is, in a matter so easy, not to obey the authority of so great 
+a power, even when that power deters with so terrible a penalty? 
+
+In short, to say all in a word, what but disobedience was the 
+punishment of disobedience in that sin? For what else is man’s misery 
+but his own disobedience to himself, so that in consequence of his not 
+being willing to do what he could do, he now wills to do what he 
+cannot? For though he could not do all things in Paradise before he 
+sinned, yet he wished to do only what he could do, and therefore he 
+could do all things he wished. But now, as we recognise in his offspring, 
+and as divine Scripture testifies, “Man is like to vanity.”192 For who can 
+count how many things he wishes which he cannot do, so long as he is 
+disobedient to himself, that is, so long as his mind and his flesh do not 
+obey his will? For in spite of himself his mind is both frequently 
+disturbed, and his flesh suffers, and grows old, and dies; and in spite of 
+ourselves we suffer whatever else we suffer, and which we would not 
+suffer if our nature absolutely and in all its parts obeyed our will. But is 
+it not the infirmities of the flesh which hamper it in its service? Yet what 
+does it matter how its service is hampered, so long as the fact remains, 
+that by the just retribution of the sovereign God whom we refused to be 
+subject to and serve, our flesh, which was subjected to us, now torments 
+us by insubordination, although our disobedience brought trouble on 
+ourselves, not upon God? For He is not in need of our service as we of 
+our body’s; and therefore what we did was no punishment to Him, but 
+what we receive is so to us. And the pains which are called bodily are 
+pains of the soul in and from the body. For what pain or desire can the 
+flesh feel by itself and without the soul? But when the flesh is said to 
+desire or to suffer, it is meant, as we have explained, that the man does 
+so, or some part of the soul which is affected by the sensation of the 
+flesh, whether a harsh sensation causing pain, or gentle, causing 
+pleasure. But pain in the flesh is only a discomfort of the soul arising 
+from the flesh, and a kind of shrinking from its suffering, as the pain of 
+
+
+the soul which is called sadness is a shrinking from those things which 
+have happened to us in spite of ourselves. But sadness is frequently 
+preceded by fear, which is itself in the soul, not in the flesh; while bodily 
+pain is not preceded by any kind of fear of the flesh, which can be felt in 
+the flesh before the pain. But pleasure is preceded by a certain appetite 
+which is felt in the flesh like a craving, as hunger and thirst and that 
+generative appetite which is most commonly identified with the name 
+“lust,” though this is the generic word for all desires. For anger itself was 
+defined by the ancients as nothing else than the lust of revenge;103 
+although sometimes a man is angry even at inanimate objects which 
+cannot feel his vengeance, as when one breaks a pen, or crushes a quill 
+that writes badly. Yet even this, though less reasonable, is in its way a 
+lust of revenge, and is, so to speak, a mysterious kind of shadow of [the 
+great law of] retribution, that they who do evil should suffer evil. There 
+is, therefore a lust for revenge, which is called anger; there is a lust of 
+money, which goes by the name of avarice; there is a lust of conquering, 
+no matter by what means, which is called opinionativeness; there is a 
+lust of applause, which is named boasting. There are many and various 
+lusts, of which some have names of their own, while others have not. For 
+who could readily give a name to the lust of ruling, which yet has a 
+powerful influence in the soul of tyrants, as civil wars bear witness? 
+
+
+16. Of the evil of lust—a word which, though applicable to many vices, is specially appropriated 
+to sexual uncleanness 
+
+
+Although, therefore, lust may have many objects, yet when no object 
+is specified, the word lust usually suggests to the mind the lustful 
+excitement of the organs of generation. And this lust not only takes 
+possession of the whole body and outward members, but also makes 
+itself felt within, and moves the whole man with a passion in which 
+mental emotion is mingled with bodily appetite, so that the pleasure 
+which results is the greatest of all bodily pleasures. So possessing indeed 
+is this pleasure, that at the moment of time in which it is consummated, 
+all mental activity is suspended. What friend of wisdom and holy joys, 
+who, being married, but knowing, as the apostle says, “how to possess 
+his vessel in sanctification and honour, not in the disease of desire, as 
+the Gentiles who know not God,”!04 would not prefer, if this were 
+possible, to beget children without this lust, so that in this function of 
+
+
+begetting offspring the members created for this purpose should not be 
+stimulated by the heat of lust, but should be actuated by his volition, in 
+the same way as his other members serve him for their respective ends? 
+But even those who delight in this pleasure are not moved to it at their 
+own will, whether they confine themselves to lawful or transgress to 
+unlawful pleasures; but sometimes this lust importunes them in spite of 
+themselves, and sometimes fails them when they desire to feel it, so that 
+though lust rages in the mind, it stirs not in the body. Thus, strangely 
+enough, this emotion not only fails to obey the legitimate desire to beget 
+offspring, but also refuses to serve lascivious lust; and though it often 
+opposes its whole combined energy to the soul that resists it, sometimes 
+also it is divided against itself, and while it moves the soul, leaves the 
+body unmoved. 
+
+
+17. Of the nakedness of our first parents, which they saw after their base and shameful sin 
+
+
+Justly is shame very specially connected with this lust; justly, too, 
+these members themselves, being moved and restrained not at our will, 
+but by a certain independent autocracy, so to speak, are called 
+“shameful.” Their condition was different before sin. For as it is written, 
+“They were naked and were not ashamed”!05—not that their nakedness 
+was unknown to them, but because nakedness was not yet shameful, 
+because not yet did lust move those members without the will’s consent; 
+not yet did the flesh by its disobedience testify against the disobedience 
+of man. For they were not created blind, as the unenlightened vulgar 
+fancy;!06 for Adam saw the animals to whom he gave names, and of Eve 
+we read, “The woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it 
+was pleasant to the eyes.”107 Their eyes, therefore, were open, but were 
+not open to this, that is to say, were not observant so as to recognise 
+what was conferred upon them by the garment of grace, for they had no 
+consciousness of their members warring against their will. But when 
+they were stripped of this grace,198 that their disobedience might be 
+punished by fit retribution, there began in the movement of their bodily 
+members a shameless novelty which made nakedness indecent: it at once 
+made them observant and made them ashamed. And therefore, after they 
+violated God’s command by open transgression, it is written: “And the 
+eyes of them both were opened, and they knew that they were naked; 
+and they sewed fig leaves together, and made themselves aprons.”109 
+
+
+“The eyes of them both were opened,” not to see, for already they saw, 
+but to discern between the good they had lost and the evil into which 
+they had fallen. And therefore also the tree itself which they were 
+forbidden to touch was called the tree of the knowledge of good and evil 
+from this circumstance, that if they ate of it it would impart to them this 
+knowledge. For the discomfort of sickness reveals the pleasure of health. 
+“They knew,” therefore, “that they were naked”—naked of that grace 
+which prevented them from being ashamed of bodily nakedness while 
+the law of sin offered no resistance to their mind. And thus they 
+obtained a knowledge which they would have lived in blissful ignorance 
+of, had they, in trustful obedience to God, declined to commit that 
+offence which involved them in the experience of the hurtful effects of 
+unfaithfulness and disobedience. And therefore, being ashamed of the 
+disobedience of their own flesh, which witnessed to their disobedience 
+while it punished it, “they sewed fig leaves together, and made 
+themselves aprons,” that is, cinctures for their privy parts; for some 
+interpreters have rendered the word by succinctoria. Campestria is, 
+indeed, a Latin word, but it is used of the drawers or aprons used for a 
+similar purpose by the young men who stripped for exercise in the 
+campus; hence those who were so girt were commonly called campestrati. 
+Shame modestly covered that which lust disobediently moved in 
+opposition to the will which was thus punished for its own disobedience. 
+Consequently all nations, being propagated from that one stock, have so 
+strong an instinct to cover the shameful parts, that some barbarians do 
+not uncover them even in the bath, but wash with their drawers on. In 
+the dark solitudes of India also, though some philosophers go naked, and 
+are therefore called gymnosophists, yet they make an exception in the 
+case of these members, and cover them. 
+
+
+18. Of the shame which attends all sexual intercourse 
+
+
+Lust requires for its consummation darkness and secrecy; and this not 
+only when unlawful intercourse is desired, but even such fornication as 
+the earthly city has legalized. Where there is no fear of punishment, 
+these permitted pleasures still shrink from the public eye. Even where 
+provision is made for this lust, secrecy also is provided; and while lust 
+found it easy to remove the prohibitions of law, shamelessness found it 
+impossible to lay aside the veil of retirement. For even shameless men 
+
+
+call this shameful; and though they love the pleasure, dare not display it. 
+What! does not even conjugal intercourse, sanctioned as it is by law for 
+the propagation of children, legitimate and honourable though it be, 
+does it not seek retirement from every eye? Before the bridegroom 
+fondles his bride, does he not exclude the attendants, and even the para- 
+nymphs, and such friends as the closest ties have admitted to the bridal 
+chamber? The greatest master of Roman eloquence says, that all right 
+actions wish to be set in the light, Le. desire to be known. This right 
+action, however, has such a desire to be known, that yet it blushes to be 
+seen. Who does not know what passes between husband and wife that 
+children may be born? Is it not for this purpose that wives are married 
+with such ceremony? And yet, when this well-understood act is gone 
+about for the procreation of children, not even the children themselves, 
+who may already have been born to them, are suffered to be witnesses. 
+This right action seeks the light, in so far as it seeks to be known, but yet 
+dreads being seen. And why so, if not because that which is by nature 
+fitting and decent is so done as to be accompanied with a shame- 
+begetting penalty of sin? 
+
+
+19. That it is now necessary, as it was not before man sinned, to bridle anger and lust by the 
+
+
+restraining influence of wisdom 
+
+
+Hence it is that even the philosophers who have approximated to the 
+truth have avowed that anger and lust are vicious mental emotions, 
+because, even when exercised towards objects which wisdom does not 
+prohibit, they are moved in an ungoverned and inordinate manner, and 
+consequently need the regulation of mind and reason. And they assert 
+that this third part of the mind is posted as it were in a kind of citadel, 
+to give rule to these other parts, so that, while it rules and they serve, 
+man’s righteousness is preserved without a breach.110 These parts, then, 
+which they acknowledge to be vicious even in a wise and temperate 
+man, so that the mind, by its composing and restraining influence, must 
+bridle and recall them from those objects towards which they are 
+unlawfully moved, and give them access to those which the law of 
+wisdom sanctions—that anger, e.g., may be allowed for the enforcement 
+of a just authority, and lust for the duty of propagating offspring—these 
+parts, I say, were not vicious in Paradise before sin, for they were never 
+moved in opposition to a holy will towards any object from which it was 
+
+
+necessary that they should be withheld by the restraining bridle of 
+reason. For though now they are moved in this way, and are regulated 
+by a bridling and restraining power, which those who live temperately, 
+justly, and godly exercise, sometimes with ease, and sometimes with 
+greater difficulty, this is not the sound health of nature, but the 
+weakness which results from sin. And how is it that shame does not hide 
+the acts and words dictated by anger or other emotions, as it covers the 
+motions of lust, unless because the members of the body which we 
+employ for accomplishing them are moved, not by the emotions 
+themselves, but by the authority of the consenting will? For he who in 
+his anger rails at or even strikes some one, could not do so were not his 
+tongue and hand moved by the authority of the will, as also they are 
+moved when there is no anger. But the organs of generation are so 
+subjected to the rule of lust, that they have no motion but what it 
+communicates. It is this we are ashamed of; it is this which blushingly 
+hides from the eyes of onlookers. And rather will a man endure a crowd 
+of witnesses when he is unjustly venting his anger on some one, than the 
+eye of one man when he innocently copulates with his wife. 
+
+
+20. Of the foolish beastliness of the Cynics 
+
+
+It is this which those canine or synic!!! philosophers have overlooked, 
+when they have, in violation of the modest instincts of men, boastfully 
+proclaimed their unclean and shameless opinion, worthy indeed of dogs, 
+viz., that as the matrimonial act is legitimate, no one should be ashamed 
+to perform it openly, in the street or in any public place. Instinctive 
+shame has overborne this wild fancy. For though it is related!12 that 
+Diogenes once dared to put his opinion in practice, under the impression 
+that his sect would be all the more famous if his egregious shamelessness 
+were deeply graven in the memory of mankind, yet this example was not 
+afterwards followed. Shame had more influence with them, to make 
+them blush before men, than error to make them affect a resemblance to 
+dogs. And possibly, even in the case of Diogenes, and those who did 
+imitate him, there was but an appearance and pretence of copulation, 
+and not the reality. Even at this day there are still Cynic philosophers to 
+be seen; for these are Cynics who are not content with being clad in the 
+pallium, but also carry a club; yet no one of them dares to do this that we 
+speak of. If they did, they would be spat upon, not to say stoned, by the 
+
+
+mob. Human nature, then, is without doubt ashamed of this lust; and 
+justly so, for the insubordination of these members, and their defiance of 
+the will, are the clear testimony of the punishment of man’s first sin. 
+And it was fitting that this should appear specially in those parts by 
+which is generated that nature which has been altered for the worse by 
+that first and great sin—that sin from whose evil connection no one can 
+escape, unless God’s grace expiate in him individually that which was 
+perpetrated to the destruction of all in common, when all were in one 
+man, and which was avenged by God’s justice. 
+
+
+21. That man’s transgression did not annul the blessing of fecundity pronounced upon man 
+
+
+before he sinned, but infected it with the disease of lust 
+
+
+Far be it, then, from us to suppose that our first parents in Paradise 
+felt that lust which caused them afterwards to blush and hide their 
+nakedness, or that by its means they should have fulfilled the 
+benediction of God, “Increase and multiply and replenish the earth;”113 
+for it was after sin that lust began. It was after sin that our nature, 
+having lost the power it had over the whole body, but not having lost all 
+shame, perceived, noticed, blushed at, and covered it. But that blessing 
+upon marriage, which encouraged them to increase and multiply and 
+replenish the earth, though it continued even after they had sinned, was 
+yet given before they sinned, in order that the procreation of children 
+might be recognised as part of the glory of marriage, and not of the 
+punishment of sin. But now, men being ignorant of the blessedness of 
+Paradise, suppose that children could not have been begotten there in 
+any other way than they know them to be begotten now, ie. by lust, at 
+which even honourable marriage blushes; some not simply rejecting, but 
+sceptically deriding the divine Scriptures, in which we read that our first 
+parents, after they sinned, were ashamed of their nakedness, and 
+covered it; while others, though they accept and honour Scripture, yet 
+conceive that this expression, “Increase and multiply,” refers not to 
+carnal fecundity, because a similar expression is used of the soul in the 
+words, “Thou wilt multiply me with strength in my soul;”!!4 and so, too, 
+in the words which follow in Genesis, “And replenish the earth, and 
+subdue it,” they understand by the earth the body which the soul fills 
+with its presence, and which it rules over when it is multiplied in 
+strength. And they hold that children could no more then than now be 
+
+
+begotten without lust, which, after sin, was kindled, observed, blushed 
+for, and covered; and even that children would not have been born in 
+Paradise, but only outside of it, as in fact it turned out. For it was after 
+they were expelled from it that they came together to beget children, 
+and begot them. 
+
+
+22. Of the conjugal union as it was originally instituted and blessed by God 
+
+
+But we, for our part, have no manner of doubt that to increase and 
+multiply and replenish the earth in virtue of the blessing of God, is a gift 
+of marriage as God instituted it from the beginning before man sinned, 
+when He created them male and female—in other words, two sexes 
+manifestly distinct. And it was this work of God on which His blessing 
+was pronounced. For no sooner had Scripture said, “Male and female 
+created He them,”!!5 than it immediately continues, “And God blessed 
+them, and God said unto them, Increase, and multiply, and replenish the 
+earth, and subdue it,” etc. And though all these things may not 
+unsuitably be interpreted in a spiritual sense, yet “male and female” 
+cannot be understood of two things in one man, as if there were in him 
+one thing which rules, another which is ruled; but it is quite clear that 
+they were created male and female, with bodies of different sexes, for 
+the very purpose of begetting offspring, and so increasing, multiplying, 
+and replenishing the earth; and it is great folly to oppose so plain a fact. 
+It was not of the spirit which commands and the body which obeys, nor 
+of the rational soul which rules and the irrational desire which is ruled, 
+nor of the contemplative virtue which is supreme and the active which is 
+subject, nor of the understanding of the mind and the sense of the body, 
+but plainly of the matrimonial union by which the sexes are mutually 
+bound together, that our Lord, when asked whether it were lawful for 
+any cause to put away one’s wife (for on account of the hardness of the 
+hearts of the Israelites Moses permitted a bill of divorcement to be 
+given), answered and said, “Have ye not read that He which made them 
+at the beginning made them male and female, and said, For this cause 
+shall a man leave father and mother, and shall cleave to his wife, and 
+they twain shall be one flesh? Wherefore they are no more twain, but 
+one flesh. What, therefore, God hath joined together, let not man put 
+asunder.”!16 It is certain, then, that from the first men were created, as 
+we see and know them to be now, of two sexes, male and female, and 
+
+
+that they are called one, either on account of the matrimonial union, or 
+on account of the origin of the woman, who was created from the side of 
+the man. And it is by this original example, which God Himself 
+instituted, that the apostle admonishes all husbands to love their own 
+wives in particular.117 
+
+
+23. Whether generation should have taken place even in Paradise had man not sinned, or whether 
+
+
+there should have been any contention there between chastity and lust 
+
+
+But he who says that there should have been neither copulation nor 
+generation but for sin, virtually says that man’s sin was necessary to 
+complete the number of the saints. For if these two by not sinning 
+should have continued to live alone, because, as is supposed, they could 
+not have begotten children had they not sinned, then certainly sin was 
+necessary in order that there might be not only two but many righteous 
+men. And if this cannot be maintained without absurdity, we must 
+rather believe that the number of the saints fit to complete this most 
+blessed city would have been as great though no one had sinned, as it is 
+now that the grace of God gathers its citizens out of the multitude of 
+sinners, so long as the children of this world generate and are 
+generated.118 
+
+And therefore that marriage, worthy of the happiness of Paradise, 
+should have had desirable fruit without the shame of lust, had there 
+been no sin. But how that could be, there is now no example to teach us. 
+Nevertheless, it ought not to seem incredible that one member might 
+serve the will without lust then, since so many serve it now. Do we now 
+move our feet and hands when we will to do the things we would by 
+means of these members? do we meet with no resistance in them, but 
+perceive that they are ready servants of the will, both in our own case 
+and in that of others, and especially of artisans employed in mechanical 
+operations, by which the weakness and clumsiness of nature become, 
+through industrious exercise, wonderfully dexterous? and shall we not 
+believe that, like as all those members obediently serve the will, so also 
+should the members have discharged the function of generation, though 
+lust, the award of disobedience, had been awanting? Did not Cicero, in 
+discussing the difference of governments in his De Republica, adopt a 
+simile from human nature, and say that we command our bodily 
+members as children, they are so obedient; but that the vicious parts of 
+
+
+the soul must be treated as slaves, and be coerced with a more stringent 
+authority? And no doubt, in the order of nature, the soul is more 
+excellent than the body; and yet the soul commands the body more 
+easily than itself. Nevertheless this lust, of which we at present speak, is 
+the more shameful on this account, because the soul is therein neither 
+master of itself, so as not to lust at all, nor of the body, so as to keep the 
+members under the control of the will; for if they were thus ruled, there 
+should be no shame. But now the soul is ashamed that the body, which 
+by nature is inferior and subject to it, should resist its authority. For in 
+the resistance experienced by the soul in the other emotions there is less 
+shame, because the resistance is from itself, and thus, when it is 
+conquered by itself, itself is the conqueror, although the conquest is 
+inordinate and vicious, because accomplished by those parts of the soul 
+which ought to be subject to reason, yet, being accomplished by its own 
+parts and energies, the conquest is, as I say, its own. For when the soul 
+conquers itself to a due subordination, so that its unreasonable motions 
+are controlled by reason, while it again is subject to God, this is a 
+conquest virtuous and praiseworthy. Yet there is less shame when the 
+soul is resisted by its own vicious parts than when its will and order are 
+resisted by the body, which is distinct from and inferior to it, and 
+dependent on it for life itself. 
+
+But so long as the will retains under its authority the other members, 
+without which the members excited by lust to resist the will cannot 
+accomplish what they seek, chastity is preserved, and the delight of sin 
+foregone. And certainly, had not culpable disobedience been visited with 
+penal disobedience, the marriage of Paradise should have been ignorant 
+of this struggle and rebellion, this quarrel between will and lust, that the 
+will may be satisfied and lust restrained, but those members, like all the 
+rest, should have obeyed the will. The field of generation!19 should have 
+been sown by the organ created for this purpose, as the earth is sown by 
+the hand. And whereas now, as we essay to investigate this subject more 
+exactly, modesty hinders us, and compels us to ask pardon of chaste 
+ears, there would have been no cause to do so, but we could have 
+discoursed freely, and without fear of seeming obscene, upon all those 
+points which occur to one who meditates on the subject. There would 
+not have been even words which could be called obscene, but all that 
+might be said of these members would have been as pure as what is said 
+
+
+of the other parts of the body. Whoever, then, comes to the perusal of 
+these pages with unchaste mind, let him blame his disposition, not his 
+nature; let him brand the actings of his own impurity, not the words 
+which necessity forces us to use, and for which every pure and pious 
+reader or hearer will very readily pardon me, while I expose the folly of 
+that scepticism which argues solely on the ground of its own experience, 
+and has no faith in anything beyond. He who is not scandalized at the 
+apostle’s censure of the horrible wickedness of the women who “changed 
+the natural use into that which is against nature,”!29 will read all this 
+without being shocked, especially as we are not, like Paul, citing and 
+censuring a damnable uncleanness, but are explaining, so far as we can, 
+human generation, while with Paul we avoid all obscenity of language. 
+
+
+24. That if men had remained innocent and obedient in Paradise, the generative organs should 
+
+
+have been in subjection to the will as the other members are 
+
+
+The man, then, would have sown the seed, and the woman received it, 
+as need required, the generative organs being moved by the will, not 
+excited by lust. For we move at will not only those members which are 
+furnished with joints of solid bone, as the hands, feet, and fingers, but 
+we move also at will those which are composed of slack and soft nerves: 
+we can put them in motion, or stretch them out, or bend and twist them, 
+or contract and stiffen them, as we do with the muscles of the mouth 
+and face. The lungs, which are the very tenderest of the viscera except 
+the brain, and are therefore carefully sheltered in the cavity of the chest, 
+yet for all purposes of inhaling and exhaling the breath, and of uttering 
+and modulating the voice, are obedient to the will when we breathe, 
+exhale, speak, shout, or sing, just as the bellows obey the smith or the 
+organist. I will not press the fact that some animals have a natural power 
+to move a single spot of the skin with which their whole body is 
+covered, if they have felt on it anything they wish to drive off—a power 
+so great, that by this shivering tremor of the skin they can not only 
+shake off flies that have settled on them, but even spears that have fixed 
+in their flesh. Man, it is true, has not this power; but is this any reason 
+for supposing that God could not give it to such creatures as He wished 
+to possess it? And therefore man himself also might very well have 
+enjoyed absolute power over his members had he not forfeited it by his 
+disobedience; for it was not difficult for God to form him so that what is 
+
+
+now moved in his body only by lust should have been moved only at 
+will. 
+
+We know, too, that some men are differently constituted from others, 
+and have some rare and remarkable faculty of doing with their body 
+what other men can by no effort do, and, indeed, scarcely believe when 
+they hear of others doing. There are persons who can move their ears, 
+either one at a time, or both together. There are some who, without 
+moving the head, can bring the hair down upon the forehead, and move 
+the whole scalp backwards and forwards at pleasure. Some, by lightly 
+pressing their stomach, bring up an incredible quantity and variety of 
+things they have swallowed, and produce whatever they please, quite 
+whole, as if out of a bag. Some so accurately mimic the voices of birds 
+and beasts and other men, that, unless they are seen, the difference 
+cannot be told. Some have such command of their bowels, that they can 
+break wind continuously at pleasure, so as to produce the effect of 
+singing. I myself have known a man who was accustomed to sweat 
+whenever he wished. It is well known that some weep when they please, 
+and shed a flood of tears. But far more incredible is that which some of 
+our brethren saw quite recently. There was a presbyter called Restitutus, 
+in the parish of the Calamensian!21 Church, who, as often as he pleased 
+(and he was asked to do this by those who desired to witness so 
+remarkable a phenomenon), on some one imitating the wailings of 
+mourners, became so insensible, and lay in a state so like death, that not 
+only had he no feeling when they pinched and pricked him, but even 
+when fire was applied to him, and he was burned by it, he had no sense 
+of pain except afterwards from the wound. And that his body remained 
+motionless, not by reason of his self-command, but because he was 
+insensible, was proved by the fact that he breathed no more than a dead 
+man; and yet he said that, when any one spoke with more than ordinary 
+distinctness, he heard the voice, but as if it were a long way off. Seeing, 
+then, that even in this mortal and miserable life the body serves some 
+men by many remarkable movements and moods beyond the ordinary 
+course of nature, what reason is there for doubting that, before man was 
+involved by his sin in this weak and corruptible condition, his members 
+might have served his will for the propagation of offspring without lust? 
+Man has been given over to himself because he abandoned God, while 
+he sought to be self-satisfying; and disobeying God, he could not obey 
+
+
+even himself. Hence it is that he is involved in the obvious misery of 
+being unable to live as he wishes. For if he lived as he wished, he would 
+think himself blessed; but he could not be so if he lived wickedly. 
+
+
+25. Of true blessedness, which this present life cannot enjoy 
+
+
+However, if we look at this a little more closely, we see that no one 
+lives as he wishes but the blessed, and that no one is blessed but the 
+righteous. But even the righteous himself does not live as he wishes, 
+until he has arrived where he cannot die, be deceived, or injured, and 
+until he is assured that this shall be his eternal condition. For this nature 
+demands; and nature is not fully and perfectly blessed till it attains what 
+it seeks. But what man is at present able to live as he wishes, when it is 
+not in his power so much as to live? He wishes to live, he is compelled 
+to die. How, then, does he live as he wishes who does not live as long as 
+he wishes? or if he wishes to die, how can he live as he wishes, since he 
+does not wish even to live? Or if he wishes to die, not because he 
+dislikes life, but that after death he may live better, still he is not yet 
+living as he wishes, but only has the prospect of so living when, through 
+death, he reaches that which he wishes. But admit that he lives as he 
+wishes, because he has done violence to himself, and forced himself not 
+to wish what he cannot obtain, and to wish only what he can (as Terence 
+has it, “Since you cannot do what you will, will what you can”!22), is he 
+therefore blessed because he is patiently wretched? For a blessed life is 
+possessed only by the man who loves it. If it is loved and possessed, it 
+must necessarily be more ardently loved than all besides; for whatever 
+else is loved must be loved for the sake of the blessed life. And if it is 
+loved as it deserves to be—and the man is not blessed who does not love 
+the blessed life as it deserves—then he who so loves it cannot but wish it 
+to be eternal. Therefore it shall then only be blessed when it is eternal. 
+
+
+26. That we are to believe that in Paradise our first parents begat offspring without blushing 
+
+
+In Paradise, then, man lived as he desired so long as he desired what 
+God had commanded. He lived in the enjoyment of God, and was good 
+by God’s goodness; he lived without any want, and had it in his power so 
+to live eternally. He had food that he might not hunger, drink that he 
+might not thirst, the tree of life that old age might not waste him. There 
+was in his body no corruption, nor seed of corruption, which could 
+
+
+produce in him any unpleasant sensation. He feared no inward disease, 
+no outward accident. Soundest health blessed his body, absolute 
+tranquillity his soul. As in Paradise there was no excessive heat or cold, 
+so its inhabitants were exempt from the vicissitudes of fear and desire. 
+No sadness of any kind was there, nor any foolish joy; true gladness 
+ceaselessly flowed from the presence of God, who was loved “out of a 
+pure heart, and a good conscience, and faith unfeigned.”!23 The honest 
+love of husband and wife made a sure harmony between them. Body and 
+spirit worked harmoniously together, and the commandment was kept 
+without labour. No languor made their leisure wearisome; no sleepiness 
+interrupted their desire to labour.!24 
+
+In such happy circumstances and general human well-being we should 
+be far from suspecting that offspring could not have been begotten 
+without the disease of lust, but those parts, like all the rest, would be set 
+in motion at the command of the will; and without the seductive 
+stimulus of passion, with calmness of mind and with no corrupting of the 
+integrity of the body, the husband would lie upon the bosom of his wife. 
+Nor ought we not to believe this because it cannot be proved by 
+experiment. But rather, since no wild heat of passion would arouse those 
+parts of the body, but a spontaneous power, according to the need, 
+would be present, thus must we believe that the male semen could have 
+been introduced into the womb of the wife with the integrity of the 
+female genital organ being preserved, just as now, with that same 
+integrity being safe, the menstrual flow of blood can be emitted from the 
+womb of a virgin. To be sure, the seed could be introduced in the same 
+way through which the menses can be emitted. In order that not the 
+groans of labor-pain should relax the female organs for parturition, but 
+rather the impulse of the fully developed foetus, thus not the eager 
+desire of lust, but the normal exercise of the will, should join the male 
+and female for breeding and conception. 
+
+We speak of things which are now shameful, and although we try, as 
+well as we are able, to conceive them as they were before they became 
+shameful, yet necessity compels us rather to limit our discussion to the 
+bounds set by modesty than to extend it as our moderate faculty of 
+discourse might suggest. For since that which I have been speaking of 
+was not experienced even by those who might have experienced it—I 
+mean our first parents (for sin and its merited banishment from Paradise 
+
+
+anticipated this passionless generation on their part)—when sexual 
+intercourse is spoken of now, it suggests to men’s thoughts not such a 
+placid obedience to the will as is conceivable in our first parents, but 
+such violent acting of lust as they themselves have experienced. And 
+therefore modesty shuts my mouth, although my mind conceives the 
+matter clearly. But Almighty God, the supreme and supremely good 
+Creator of all natures, who aids and rewards good wills, while He 
+abandons and condemns the bad, and rules both, was not destitute of a 
+plan by which He might people His city with the fixed number of 
+citizens which His wisdom had foreordained even out of the condemned 
+human race, discriminating them not now by merits, since the whole 
+mass was condemned as if in a vitiated root, but by grace, and showing, 
+not only in the case of the redeemed, but also in those who were not 
+delivered, how much grace He has bestowed upon them. For every one 
+acknowledges that he has been rescued from evil, not by deserved, but 
+by gratuitous goodness, when he is singled out from the company of 
+those with whom he might justly have borne a common punishment, 
+and is allowed to go scathless. Why, then, should God not have created 
+those who He foresaw would sin, since He was able to show in and by 
+them both what their guilt merited, and what His grace bestowed, and 
+since, under His creating and disposing hand, even the perverse disorder 
+of the wicked could not pervert the right order of things? 
+
+
+27. Of the angels and men who sinned, and that their wickedness did not disturb the order of 
+
+
+God’s providence 
+
+
+The sins of men and angels do nothing to impede the “great works of 
+the Lord which accomplish His will.”125 For He who by His providence 
+and omnipotence distributes to every one his own portion, is able to 
+make good use not only of the good, but also of the wicked. And thus 
+making a good use of the wicked angel, who, in punishment of his first 
+wicked volition, was doomed to an obduracy that prevents him now 
+from willing any good, why should not God have permitted him to tempt 
+the first man, who had been created upright, that is to say, with a good 
+will? For he had been so constituted, that if he looked to God for help, 
+man’s goodness should defeat the angel’s wickedness; but if by proud 
+self-pleasing he abandoned God, his Creator and Sustainer, he should be 
+conquered. If his will remained upright, through leaning on God’s help, 
+
+
+he should be rewarded; if it became wicked, by forsaking God, he should 
+be punished. But even this trusting in God’s help could not itself be 
+accomplished without God’s help, although man had it in his own power 
+to relinquish the benefits of divine grace by pleasing himself. For as it is 
+not in our power to live in this world without sustaining ourselves by 
+food, while it is in our power to refuse this nourishment and cease to 
+live, as those do who kill themselves, so it was not in man’s power, even 
+in Paradise, to live as he ought without God’s help; but it was in his 
+power to live wickedly, though thus he should cut short his happiness, 
+and incur very just punishment. Since, then, God was not ignorant that 
+man would fall, why should He not have suffered him to be tempted by 
+an angel who hated and envied him? It was not, indeed, that He was 
+unaware that he should be conquered, but because He foresaw that by 
+the man’s seed, aided by divine grace, this same devil himself should be 
+conquered, to the greater glory of the saints. All was brought about in 
+such a manner, that neither did any future event escape God’s 
+foreknowledge, nor did His foreknowledge compel any one to sin, and so 
+as to demonstrate in the experience of the intelligent creation, human 
+and angelic, how great a difference there is between the private 
+presumption of the creature and the Creator’s protection. For who will 
+dare to believe or say that it was not in God’s power to prevent both 
+angels and men from sinning? But God preferred to leave this in their 
+power, and thus to show both what evil could be wrought by their pride, 
+and what good by His grace. 
+
+
+28. Of the nature of the two cities, the earthly and the heavenly 
+
+
+Accordingly, two cities have been formed by two loves: the earthly by 
+the love of self, even to the contempt of God; the heavenly by the love of 
+God, even to the contempt of self. The former, in a word, glories in itself, 
+the latter in the Lord. For the one seeks glory from men; but the greatest 
+glory of the other is God, the witness of conscience. The one lifts up its 
+head in its own glory; the other says to its God, “Thou art my glory, and 
+the lifter up of mine head.”126 In the one, the princes and the nations it 
+subdues are ruled by the love of ruling; in the other, the princes and the 
+subjects serve one another in love, the latter obeying, while the former 
+take thought for all. The one delights in its own strength, represented in 
+the persons of its rulers; the other says to its God, “I will love Thee, O 
+
+
+Lord, my strength.”!27 And therefore the wise men of the one city, living 
+according to man, have sought for profit to their own bodies or souls, or 
+both, and those who have known God “glorified Him not as God, neither 
+were thankful, but became vain in their imaginations, and their foolish 
+heart was darkened; professing themselves to be wise”—that is, glorying 
+in their own wisdom, and being possessed by pride—“they became fools, 
+and changed the glory of the incorruptible God into an image made like 
+to corruptible man, and to birds, and four-footed beasts, and creeping 
+things.” For they were either leaders or followers of the people in 
+adoring images, “and worshipped and served the creature more than the 
+Creator, who is blessed for ever.”!28 But in the other city there is no 
+human wisdom, but only godliness, which offers due worship to the true 
+God, and looks for its reward in the society of the saints, of holy angels 
+as well as holy men, “that God may be all in all.”129 
+
+
+1 This book is referred to in another work of Augustine’s (contra Advers. Legis et Prophet. i. 18), 
+which was written about the year 420. 
+
+
+2 1 Cor. xv. 39. 
+
+3 Rom. iii. 20. 
+
+4 Gal. iii. 11. 
+
+5 John. i. 14. 
+
+6 The Apollinarians. 
+7 John xx. 13. 
+
+8 Gal. v. 19-21. 
+
+9 Wisd. ix. 15. 
+
+10 2 Cor. iv. 16. 
+
+11 2 Cor. v. 1-4. 
+
+12 Aineid, vi. 730-32. 
+13 Ib. 733, 734. 
+
+14 On the punishment of the devil, see the De Agone Christi, 3-5, and De Nat. Boni, 33. 
+15 Rom. iii. 7. 
+
+16 John xiv. 6. 
+
+17 1 Cor. iii. 3. 
+
+
+18 ] Cor. ii. 11-14. 
+
+
+19 1 Cor. iii. 1. 
+
+20 Rom. iii. 20. 
+
+21 Gen. xlvi. 27. 
+
+22 See Augustine, De Hæres. 46. 
+23 Tusc. Quæst. iv. 6. 
+24 Æneid, vi. 719-21. 
+25 Tit. i. 8, according to Greek and Vulgate. 
+26 John xxi. 15-17. On these synonyms see the commentaries in loc. 
+27 Ps, xi. 5. 
+
+28 1 John ii. 15. 
+
+29 2 Tim. iii. 2. 
+
+30 Phil. i. 23 
+
+31 Ps. cxix. 20. 
+
+32 Wisd. vi. 20. 
+
+33 Ps. xxxii. 11. 
+
+34 Ps, iv. 7. 
+
+35 Ps, xvi. 11. 
+
+36 Phil. ii. 12. 
+
+37 Rom. xi. 20. 
+
+38 2 Cor. xi. 3. 
+
+39 Aineid, vi. 733. 
+
+40 Isa. lvii. 21. 
+
+41 Matt. vii. 12. 
+
+42 Ecclus. vii. 13. 
+
+43 Luke ii. 14. 
+
+44 Cat. i. 2. 
+
+45 Ter. Andr. ii. 1, 6. 
+46 Aneid. vi. 733. 
+
+47 Æneid. v. 278. 
+
+48 2 Cor. vii. 8-11. 
+49 Tusc. Disp. iii. 32. 
+
+
+50 Ç, 4, 5. 
+
+51 Rom. viii. 23. 
+52 1 Cor. xv. 54. 
+53 Matt. xxiv. 12. 
+54 Matt. x. 22. 
+
+55 1 John i. 8. 
+
+56 2 Cor. ix. 7. 
+
+97 Gal. vi. 1. 
+
+58 Ps, xxvi. 2. 
+
+59 Matt. xxvi. 75. 
+60 Jas. i. 2. 
+
+61 1 Cor. iv. 9. 
+62 Phil. iii. 14. 
+63 Rom. xii. 15. 
+64 2 Cor. vii. 5. 
+65 Phil. i. 23. 
+
+66 Rom. i. 11-13. 
+67 2 Cor. xi. 1-3. 
+68 Rom. ix. 2. 
+
+69 Rom. x. 3. 
+
+70 2 Cor. xii. 21. 
+71 Mark iii. 5. 
+
+72 John xi. 15. 
+73 John xi. 35. 
+74 Luke xxii. 15. 
+75 Matt. xxvi. 38. 
+76 Rom. i. 31. 
+
+77 Ps. lxix. 20. 
+
+78 Crantor, an Academic philosopher quoted by Cicero, Tusc. Quæst. iii. 6. 
+79 1 Johni. 8. 
+
+80 1 John iv. 18. 
+
+
+81 Rom. viii. 15. 
+
+82 Ps, xix. 9. 
+
+83 Ps, ix. 18. 
+
+84 Matt. v. 28. 
+
+85 Gen. i. 28. 
+
+86 Gen. vi. 6, and 1 Sam. xv. 11. 
+87 Eccles. vii. 29. 
+
+88 John viii. 36. 
+
+89 ] Tim. ii. 14. 
+
+90 Rom. v. 12. 
+
+91 Gen. iii. 12. 
+
+92 Ecclus. x. 13. 
+
+93 Matt. vii. 18. 
+
+94 Defecit. 
+
+95 Ps, lxxiii. 18. 
+
+96 Gen. iii. 5. 
+
+97 Prov. xviii. 12. 
+
+98 That is to say, it was an obvious and indisputable transgression. 
+99 Ps, Ixxxiii. 16. 
+
+100 Gen. iii. 12, 13. 
+
+101 Phil. ii. 8. 
+
+102 Ps, exliv. 4. 
+
+103 Cicero, Tusc. Quest. iii. 6 and iv. 9. So Aristotle. 
+104 ] Thess. iv. 4. 
+
+105 Gen. ii. 25. 
+
+
+106 An error which arose from the words, “The eyes of them both were opened,” Gen. iii. 7.—See 
+De Genesi ad lit. ii. 40. 
+
+107 Gen. iii. 6. 
+
+108 This doctrine and phraseology of Augustine being important in connection with his whole 
+theory of the fall, we give some parallel passages to show that the words are not used at random: 
+De Genesi ad lit. xi. 41; De Corrept. et Gratia, xi. 31; and especially Cont. Julia. iv. 82. 
+
+
+109 Gen. iii. 7. 
+
+
+110 See Plato’s Republic, book iv. 
+
+111 The one word being the Latin form, the other the Greek, of the same adjective. 
+112 By Diogenes Laertius, vi. 69, and Cicero, De Offic. i. 41. 
+113 Gen. i. 28. 
+
+114 Ps, exxxviii. 3. 
+
+115 Gen. i. 27, 28. 
+
+116 Matt. xix. 4, 5. 
+
+117 Eph. v. 25. 
+
+118 Luke xx. 34. 
+
+119 See Virgil, Georg. iii. 136. 
+
+120 Rom. i. 26. 
+
+
+121 The position of Calama is described by Augustine as between Constantine and Hippo, but 
+nearer Hippo.—Contra Lit. Petil. ii. 228. A full description of it is given in Poujoulat’s Histoire de 
+S. Augustin, i. 340, who says it was one of the most important towns of Numidia, eighteen 
+leagues south of Hippo, and represented by the modern Ghelma. It is to its bishop, Possidius, we 
+
+
+owe the contemporary Life of Augustine. 
+
+122 Andr. ii. 1, 5. 
+
+123 ] Tim. i. 5. 
+
+124 Compare Basil’s Homily on Paradise, and John Damascene, De Fide Orthod, ii. 11. 
+125 Ps, cxi. 2. 
+
+126 Ps, iii. 3. 
+
+127 Ps, xviii. 1. 
+
+128 Rom. i. 21-25. 
+
+
+129 1 Cor. xv. 28. 
+
+
+BOOK FIFTEENTH 
+
+
+ARGUMENT 
+
+
+HAVING TREATED IN THE FOUR PRECEDING BOOKS OF THE ORIGIN OF THE TWO CITIES, THE EARTHLY 
+AND THE HEAVENLY, AUGUSTINE EXPLAINS THEIR GROWTH AND PROGRESS IN THE FOUR BOOKS WHICH 
+FOLLOW; AND, IN ORDER TO DO SO, HE EXPLAINS THE CHIEF PASSAGES OF THE SACRED HISTORY WHICH 
+BEAR UPON THIS SUBJECT. IN THIS FIFTEENTH BOOK HE OPENS THIS PART OF HIS WORK BY EXPLAINING 
+THE EVENTS RECORDED IN GENESIS FROM THE TIME OF CAIN AND ABEL TO THE DELUGE. 
+
+
+1. Of the two lines of the human race which from first to last divide it 
+
+
+f the bliss of Paradise, of Paradise itself, and of the life of our first 
+
+parents there, and of their sin and punishment, many have thought 
+much, spoken much, written much. We ourselves, too, have spoken of 
+these things in the foregoing books, and have written either what we 
+read in the Holy Scriptures, or what we could reasonably deduce from 
+them. And were we to enter into a more detailed investigation of these 
+matters, an endless number of endless questions would arise, which 
+would involve us in a larger work than the present occasion admits. We 
+cannot be expected to find room for replying to every question that may 
+be started by unoccupied and captious men, who are ever more ready to 
+ask questions than capable of understanding the answer. Yet I trust we 
+have already done justice to these great and difficult questions regarding 
+the beginning of the world, or of the soul, or of the human race itself. 
+This race we have distributed into two parts, the one consisting of those 
+who live according to man, the other of those who live according to 
+God. And these we also mystically call the two cities, or the two 
+communities of men, of which the one is predestined to reign eternally 
+with God, and the other to suffer eternal punishment with the devil. 
+This, however, is their end, and of it we are to speak afterwards. At 
+present, as we have said enough about their origin, whether among the 
+angels, whose numbers we know not, or in the two first human beings, it 
+seems suitable to attempt an account of their career, from the time when 
+
+
+our two first parents began to propagate the race until all human 
+generation shall cease. For this whole time or world-age, in which the 
+dying give place and those who are born succeed, is the career of these 
+two cities concerning which we treat. 
+
+Of these two first parents of the human race, then, Cain was the first- 
+born, and he belonged to the city of men; after him was born Abel, who 
+belonged to the city of God. For as in the individual the truth of the 
+apostle’s statement is discerned, “that is not first which is spiritual, but 
+that which is natural, and afterward that which is spiritual,”! whence it 
+comes to pass that each man, being derived from a condemned stock, is 
+first of all born of Adam evil and carnal, and becomes good and spiritual 
+only afterwards, when he is graffed into Christ by regeneration: so was it 
+in the human race as a whole. When these two cities began to run their 
+course by a series of deaths and births, the citizen of this world was the 
+first-born, and after him the stranger in this world, the citizen of the city 
+of God, predestinated by grace, elected by grace, by grace a stranger 
+below, and by grace a citizen above. By grace—for so far as regards 
+himself he is sprung from the same mass, all of which is condemned in 
+its origin; but God, like a potter (for this comparison is introduced by the 
+apostle judiciously, and not without thought), of the same lump made 
+one vessel to honour, another to dishonour.2 But first the vessel to 
+dishonour was made, and after it another to honour. For in each 
+individual, as I have already said, there is first of all that which is 
+reprobate, that from which we must begin, but in which we need not 
+necessarily remain; afterwards is that which is well-approved, to which 
+we may by advancing attain, and in which, when we have reached it, we 
+may abide. Not, indeed, that every wicked man shall be good, but that 
+no one will be good who was not first of all wicked; but the sooner any 
+one becomes a good man, the more speedily does he receive this title, 
+and abolish the old name in the new. Accordingly, it is recorded of Cain 
+that he built a city,? but Abel, being a sojourner, built none. For the city 
+of the saints is above, although here below it begets citizens, in whom it 
+sojourns till the time of its reign arrives, when it shall gather together all 
+in the day of the resurrection; and then shall the promised kingdom be 
+given to them, in which they shall reign with their Prince, the King of 
+the ages, time without end. 
+
+
+2. Of the children of the flesh and the children of the promise 
+
+
+There was indeed on earth, so long as it was needed, a symbol and 
+foreshadowing image of this city, which served the purpose of reminding 
+men that such a city was to be, rather than of making it present; and this 
+image was itself called the holy city, as a symbol of the future city, 
+though not itself the reality. Of this city which served as an image, and 
+of that free city it typified, Paul writes to the Galatians in these terms: 
+“Tell me, ye that desire to be under the law, do ye not hear the law? For 
+it is written, that Abraham had two sons, the one by a bond maid, the 
+other by a free woman. But he who was of the bond woman was born 
+after the flesh, but he of the free woman was by promise. Which things 
+are an allegory:* for these are the two covenants; the one from the 
+mount Sinai, which gendereth to bondage, which is Agar. For this Agar 
+is mount Sinai in Arabia, and answereth to Jerusalem which now is, and 
+is in bondage with her children. But Jerusalem which is above is free, 
+which is the mother of us all. For it is written, Rejoice, thou barren that 
+bearest not; break forth and cry, thou that travailest not: for the desolate 
+hath many more children than she which hath an husband. Now we, 
+brethren, as Isaac was, are the children of promise. But as then he that 
+was born after the flesh persecuted him that was born after the Spirit, 
+even so it is now. Nevertheless, what saith the Scripture? Cast out the 
+bond woman and her son: for the son of the bond woman shall not be 
+heir with the son of the free woman. And we, brethren, are not children 
+of the bond woman, but of the free, in the liberty wherewith Christ hath 
+made us free.”5 This interpretation of the passage, handed down to us 
+with apostolic authority, shows how we ought to understand the 
+Scriptures of the two covenants—the old and the new. One portion of 
+the earthly city became an image of the heavenly city, not having a 
+significance of its own, but signifying another city, and therefore 
+serving, or “being in bondage.” For it was founded not for its own sake, 
+but to prefigure another city; and this shadow of a city was also itself 
+foreshadowed by another preceding figure. For Sarah’s handmaid Agar, 
+and her son, were an image of this image. And as the shadows were to 
+pass away when the full light came, Sarah, the free woman, who 
+prefigured the free city (which again was also prefigured in another way 
+by that shadow of a city Jerusalem), therefore said, “Cast out the bond 
+
+
+woman and her son; for the son of the bond woman shall not be heir 
+with my son Isaac,” or, as the apostle says, “with the son of the free 
+woman.” In the earthly city, then, we find two things—its own obvious 
+presence, and its symbolic presentation of the heavenly city. Now 
+citizens are begotten to the earthly city by nature vitiated by sin, but to 
+the heavenly city by grace freeing nature from sin; whence the former 
+are called “vessels of wrath,” the latter “vessels of mercy.” And this was 
+typified in the two sons of Abraham—Ishmael, the son of Agar the 
+handmaid, being born according to the flesh, while Isaac was born of the 
+free woman Sarah, according to the promise. Both, indeed, were of 
+Abraham’s seed; but the one was begotten by natural law, the other was 
+given by gracious promise. In the one birth, human action is revealed; in 
+the other, a divine kindness comes to light. 
+
+
+3. That Sarah’s barrenness was made productive by God’s grace 
+
+
+Sarah, in fact, was barren; and, despairing of offspring, and being 
+resolved that she would have at least through her handmaid that 
+blessing she saw she could not in her own person procure, she gave her 
+handmaid to her husband, to whom she herself had been unable to bear 
+children. From him she required this conjugal duty, exercising her own 
+right in another’s womb. And thus Ishmael was born according to the 
+common law of human generation, by sexual intercourse. Therefore it is 
+said that he was born “according to the flesh”’—not because such births 
+are not the gifts of God, nor His handiwork, whose creative wisdom 
+“reaches,” as it is written, “from one end to another mightily, and 
+sweetly doth she order all things,”” but because, in a case in which the 
+gift of God, which was not due to men and was the gratuitous largess of 
+grace, was to be conspicuous, it was requisite that a son be given in a 
+way which no effort of nature could compass. Nature denies children to 
+persons of the age which Abraham and Sarah had now reached; besides 
+that, in Sarah’s case, she was barren even in her prime. This nature, so 
+constituted that offspring could not be looked for, symbolized the nature 
+of the human race vitiated by sin and by just consequence condemned, 
+which deserves no future felicity. Fitly, therefore, does Isaac, the child of 
+promise, typify the children of grace, the citizens of the free city, who 
+dwell together in everlasting peace, in which self-love and self-will have 
+no place, but a ministering love that rejoices in the common joy of all, of 
+
+
+many hearts makes one, that is to say, secures a perfect concord. 
+
+
+4. Of the conflict and peace of the earthly city 
+
+
+But the earthly city, which shall not be everlasting (for it will no 
+longer be a city when it has been committed to the extreme penalty), has 
+its good in this world, and rejoices in it with such joy as such things can 
+afford. But as this is not a good which can discharge its devotees of all 
+distresses, this city is often divided against itself by litigations, wars, 
+quarrels, and such victories as are either life-destroying or shortlived. 
+For each part of it that arms against another part of it seeks to triumph 
+over the nations though itself in bondage to vice. If, when it has 
+conquered, it is inflated with pride, its victory is life-destroying; but if it 
+turns its thoughts upon the common casualties of our mortal condition, 
+and is rather anxious concerning the disasters that may befall it than 
+elated with the successes already achieved, this victory, though of a 
+higher kind, is still only short-lived; for it cannot abidingly rule over 
+those whom it has victoriously subjugated. But the things which this city 
+desires cannot justly be said to be evil, for it is itself, in its own kind, 
+better than all other human good. For it desires earthly peace for the 
+sake of enjoying earthly goods, and it makes war in order to attain to 
+this peace; since, if it has conquered, and there remains no one to resist 
+it, it enjoys a peace which it had not while there were opposing parties 
+who contested for the enjoyment of those things which were too small to 
+satisfy both. This peace is purchased by toilsome wars; it is obtained by 
+what they style a glorious victory. Now, when victory remains with the 
+party which had the juster cause, who hesitates to congratulate the 
+victor, and style it a desirable peace? These things, then, are good 
+things, and without doubt the gifts of God. But if they neglect the better 
+things of the heavenly city, which are secured by eternal victory and 
+peace never-ending, and so inordinately covet these present good things 
+that they believe them to be the only desirable things, or love them 
+better than those things which are believed to be better—if this be so, 
+then it is necessary that misery follow and ever increase. 
+
+
+5. Of the fratricidal act of the founder of the earthly city, and the corresponding crime of the 
+
+
+founder of Rome 
+
+
+Thus the founder of the earthly city was a fratricide. Overcome with 
+
+
+envy, he slew his own brother, a citizen of the eternal city, and a 
+sojourner on earth. So that we cannot be surprised that this first 
+specimen, or, as the Greeks say, archetype of crime, should, long 
+afterwards, find a corresponding crime at the foundation of that city 
+which was destined to reign over so many nations, and be the head of 
+this earthly city of which we speak. For of that city also, as one of their 
+poets has mentioned, “the first walls were stained with a brother’s 
+blood,”’ or, as Roman history records, Remus was slain by his brother 
+Romulus. And thus there is no difference between the foundation of this 
+city and of the earthly city, unless it be that Romulus and Remus were 
+both citizens of the earthly city. Both desired to have the glory of 
+founding the Roman republic, but both could not have as much glory as 
+if one only claimed it; for he who wished to have the glory of ruling 
+would certainly rule less if his power were shared by a living consort. In 
+order, therefore, that the whole glory might be enjoyed by one, his 
+consort was removed; and by this crime the empire was made larger 
+indeed, but inferior, while otherwise it would have been less, but better. 
+Now these brothers, Cain and Abel, were not both animated by the same 
+earthly desires, nor did the murderer envy the other because he feared 
+that, by both ruling, his own dominion would be curtailed—for Abel was 
+not solicitous to rule in that city which his brother built—he was moved 
+by that diabolical, envious hatred with which the evil regard the good, 
+for no other reason than because they are good while themselves are 
+evil. For the possession of goodness is by no means diminished by being 
+shared with a partner either permanent or temporarily assumed; on the 
+contrary, the possession of goodness is increased in proportion to the 
+concord and charity of each of those who share it. In short, he who is 
+unwilling to share this possession cannot have it; and he who is most 
+willing to admit others to a share of it will have the greatest abundance 
+to himself. The quarrel, then, between Romulus and Remus shows how 
+the earthly city is divided against itself; that which fell out between Cain 
+and Abel illustrated the hatred that subsists between the two cities, that 
+of God and that of men. The wicked war with the wicked; the good also 
+war with the wicked. But with the good, good men, or at least perfectly 
+good men, cannot war; though, while only going on towards perfection, 
+they war to this extent, that every good man resists others in those 
+points in which he resists himself. And in each individual “the flesh 
+
+
+lusteth against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh.”9 This spiritual 
+lusting, therefore, can be at war with the carnal lust of another man; or 
+carnal lust may be at war with the spiritual desires of another, in some 
+such way as good and wicked men are at war; or, still more certainly, 
+the carnal lusts of two men, good but not yet perfect, contend together, 
+just as the wicked contend with the wicked, until the health of those 
+who are under the treatment of grace attains final victory. 
+
+
+6. Of the weaknesses which even the citizens of the city of God suffer during this earthly pilgrimage 
+
+
+in punishment of sin, and of which they are healed by God’s care 
+
+
+This sickliness—that is to say, that disobedience of which we spoke in 
+the fourteenth book—is the punishment of the first disobedience. It is 
+therefore not nature, but vice; and therefore it is said to the good who 
+are growing in grace, and living in this pilgrimage by faith, “Bear ye one 
+another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.”1° In like manner it is 
+said elsewhere, “Warn them that are unruly, comfort the feeble-minded, 
+support the weak, be patient toward all men. See that none render evil 
+for evil unto any man.”!! And in another place, “If a man be overtaken 
+in a fault, ye which are spiritual restore such an one in the spirit of 
+meekness; considering thyself, lest thou also be tempted.”!2 And 
+elsewhere, “Let not the sun go down upon your wrath.”!3 And in the 
+Gospel, “If thy brother shall trespass against thee, go and tell him his 
+fault between thee and him alone.”!4 So too of sins which may create 
+scandal the apostle says, “Them that sin rebuke before all, that others 
+also may fear.”!5 For this purpose, and that we may keep that peace 
+without which no man can see the Lord,!© many precepts are given 
+which carefully inculcate mutual forgiveness; among which we may 
+number that terrible word in which the servant is ordered to pay his 
+formerly remitted debt of ten thousand talents, because he did not remit 
+to his fellow-servant his debt of two hundred pence. To which parable 
+the Lord Jesus added the words, “So likewise shall my heavenly Father 
+do also unto you, if ye from your hearts forgive not every one his 
+brother.”!7 It is thus the citizens of the city of God are healed while still 
+they sojourn in this earth and sigh for the peace of their heavenly 
+country. The Holy Spirit, too, works within, that the medicine externally 
+applied may have some good result. Otherwise, even though God 
+Himself make use of the creatures that are subject to Him, and in some 
+
+
+human form address our human senses, whether we receive those 
+impressions in sleep or in some external appearance, still, if He does not 
+by His own inward grace sway and act upon the mind, no preaching of 
+the truth is of any avail. But this God does, distinguishing between the 
+vessels of wrath and the vessels of mercy, by His own very secret but 
+very just providence. When He Himself aids the soul in His own hidden 
+and wonderful ways, and the sin which dwells in our members, and is, 
+as the apostle teaches, rather the punishment of sin, does not reign in 
+our mortal body to obey the lusts of it, and when we no longer yield our 
+members as instruments of unrighteousness,!8 then the soul is converted 
+from its own evil and selfish desires, and, God possessing it, it possesses 
+itself in peace even in this life, and afterwards, with perfected health and 
+endowed with immortality, will reign without sin in peace everlasting. 
+
+
+7. Of the cause of Cain’s crime and his obstinacy, which not even the word of God could subdue 
+
+
+But though God made use of this very mode of address which we have 
+been endeavouring to explain, and spoke to Cain in that form by which 
+He was wont to accommodate Himself to our first parents and converse 
+with them as a companion, what good influence had it on Cain? Did he 
+not fulfil his wicked intention of killing his brother even after he was 
+warned by God’s voice? For when God had made a distinction between 
+their sacrifices, neglecting Cain’s, regarding Abel’s, which was doubtless 
+intimated by some visible sign to that effect; and when God had done so 
+because the works of the one were evil but those of his brother good, 
+Cain was very wroth, and his countenance fell. For thus it is written: 
+“And the Lord said unto Cain, Why art thou wroth, and why is thy 
+countenance fallen? If thou offerest rightly, but dost not rightly 
+distinguish, hast thou not sinned? Fret not thyself, for unto thee shall be 
+his turning, and thou shalt rule over him.”!9 In this admonition 
+administered by God to Cain, that clause indeed, “If thou offerest rightly, 
+but dost not rightly distinguish, hast thou not sinned?” is obscure, 
+inasmuch as it is not apparent for what reason or purpose it was spoken, 
+and many meanings have been put upon it, as each one who discusses it 
+attempts to interpret it according to the rule of faith. The truth is, that a 
+sacrifice is “rightly offered” when it is offered to the true God, to whom 
+alone we must sacrifice. And it is “not rightly distinguished” when we do 
+not rightly distinguish the places or seasons or materials of the offering, 
+
+
+or the person offering, or the person to whom it is presented, or those to 
+whom it is distributed for food after the oblation. Distinguishing2° is 
+here used for discriminating—whether when an offering is made in a 
+place where it ought not or of a material which ought to be offered not 
+there but elsewhere; or when an offering is made at a wrong time, or of 
+a material suitable not then but at some other time; or when that is 
+offered which in no place nor any time ought to be offered; or when a 
+man keeps to himself choicer specimens of the same kind than he offers 
+to God; or when he or any other who may not lawfully partake profanely 
+eats of the oblation. In which of these particulars Cain displeased God, it 
+is difficult to determine. But the Apostle John, speaking of these 
+brothers, says, “Not as Cain, who was of that wicked one, and slew his 
+brother. And wherefore slew he him? Because his own works were evil, 
+and his brother’s righteous.”2! He thus gives us to understand that God 
+did not respect his offering because it was not rightly “distinguished” in 
+this, that he gave to God something of his own but kept himself to 
+himself. For this all do who follow not God’s will but their own, who live 
+not with an upright but a crooked heart, and yet offer to God such gifts 
+as they suppose will procure from Him that He aid them not by healing 
+but by gratifying their evil passions. And this is the characteristic of the 
+earthly city, that it worships God or gods who may aid it in reigning 
+victoriously and peacefully on earth not through love of doing good, but 
+through lust of rule. The good use the world that they may enjoy God: 
+the wicked, on the contrary, that they may enjoy the world would fain 
+use God—those of them, at least, who have attained to the belief that He 
+is and takes an interest in human affairs. For they who have not yet 
+attained even to this belief are still at a much lower level. Cain, then, 
+when he saw that God had respect to his brother’s sacrifice, but not to 
+his own, should have humbly chosen his good brother as his example, 
+and not proudly counted him his rival. But he was wroth, and his 
+countenance fell. This angry regret for another person’s goodness, even 
+his brother’s, was charged upon him by God as a great sin. And He 
+accused him of it in the interrogation, “Why art thou wroth, and why is 
+thy countenance fallen?” For God saw that he envied his brother and of 
+this He accused him. For to men, from whom the heart of their fellow is 
+hid, it might be doubtful and quite uncertain whether that sadness 
+bewailed his own wickedness by which, as he had learned, he had 
+
+
+displeased God, or his brother’s goodness, which had pleased God, and 
+won His favourable regard to his sacrifice. But God, in giving the reason 
+why He refused to accept Cain’s offering and why Cain should rather 
+have been displeased at himself than at his brother, shows him that 
+though he was unjust in “not rightly distinguishing,” that is, not rightly 
+living and being unworthy to have his offering received, he was more 
+unjust by far in hating his just brother without a cause. 
+
+Yet He does not dismiss him without counsel, holy, just, and good. 
+“Fret not thyself,” He says, “for unto thee shall be his turning, and thou 
+shalt rule over him.” Over his brother, does He mean? Most certainly 
+not. Over what, then, but sin? For He had said, “Thou hast sinned,” and 
+then He added, “Fret not thyself, for to thee shall be its turning, and 
+thou shalt rule over it.”22 And the “turning” of sin to the man can be 
+understood of his conviction that the guilt of sin can be laid at no other 
+man’s door but his own. For this is the health-giving medicine of 
+penitence, and the fit plea for pardon; so that, when it is said, “To thee 
+its turning,” we must not supply “shall be,” but we must read, “To thee 
+let its turning be,” understanding it as a command, not as a prediction. 
+For then shall a man rule over his sin when he does not prefer it to 
+himself and defend it, but subjects it by repentance; otherwise he that 
+becomes protector of it shall surely become its prisoner. But if we 
+understand this sin to be that carnal concupiscence of which the apostle 
+says, “The flesh lusteth against the spirit,”23 among the fruits of which 
+he names envy, by which assuredly Cain was stung and excited to 
+destroy his brother, then we may properly supply the words “shall be,” 
+and read, “To thee shall be its turning, and thou shalt rule over it.” For 
+when the carnal part which the apostle calls sin, in that place where he 
+says, “It is not I who do it, but sin that dwelleth in me,”24 that part 
+which the philosophers also call vicious, and which ought not to lead the 
+mind, but which the mind ought to rule and restrain by reason from 
+illicit motions—when, then, this part has been moved to perpetrate any 
+wickedness, if it be curbed and if it obey the word of the apostle, “Yield 
+not your members instruments of unrighteousness unto sin,”25 it is 
+turned towards the mind and subdued and conquered by it, so that 
+reason rules over it as a subject. It was this which God enjoined on him 
+who was kindled with the fire of envy against his brother, so that he 
+sought to put out of the way him whom he should have set as an 
+
+
+example. “Fret not thyself,” or compose thyself, He says: withhold thy 
+hand from crime; let not sin reign in your mortal body to fulfil it in the 
+lusts thereof, nor yield your members instruments of unrighteousness 
+unto sin. “For to thee shall be its turning,” so long as you do not 
+encourage it by giving it the rein, but bridle it by quenching its fire. 
+“And thou shalt rule over it;” for when it is not allowed any external 
+actings, it yields itself to the rule of the governing mind and righteous 
+will, and ceases from even internal motions. There is something similar 
+said in the same divine book of the woman, when God questioned and 
+judged them after their sin, and pronounced sentence on them all—the 
+devil in the form of the serpent, the woman and her husband in their 
+own persons. For when He had said to her, “I will greatly multiply thy 
+sorrow and thy conception; in sorrow shalt thou bring forth children,” 
+then He added, “and thy turning shall be to thy husband, and he shall 
+rule over thee.”26 What is said to Cain about his sin, or about the vicious 
+concupiscence of his flesh, is here said of the woman who had sinned; 
+and we are to understand that the husband is to rule his wife as the soul 
+rules the flesh. And therefore, says the apostle, “He that loveth his wife, 
+loveth himself; for no man ever yet hated his own flesh.”27 This flesh, 
+then, is to be healed, because it belongs to ourselves: is not to be 
+abandoned to destruction as if it were alien to our nature. But Cain 
+received that counsel of God in the spirit of one who did not wish to 
+amend. In fact, the vice of envy grew stronger in him; and, having 
+entrapped his brother, he slew him. Such was the founder of the earthly 
+city. He was also a figure of the Jews who slew Christ the Shepherd of 
+the flock of men, prefigured by Abel the shepherd of sheep: but as this is 
+an allegorical and prophetical matter, I forbear to explain it now; 
+besides, I remember that I have made some remarks upon it in writing 
+against Faustus the Manichzan.28 
+
+
+8. What Cain’s reason was for building a city so early in the history of the human race 
+
+
+At present it is the history which I aim at defending, that Scripture 
+may not be reckoned incredible when it relates that one man built a city 
+at a time in which there seem to have been but four men upon earth, or 
+rather indeed but three, after one brother slew the other—to wit, the 
+first man the father of all, and Cain himself, and his son Enoch, by 
+whose name the city was itself called. But they who are moved by this 
+
+
+consideration forget to take into account that the writer of the sacred 
+history does not necessarily mention all the men who might be alive at 
+that time, but those only whom the scope of his work required him to 
+name. The design of that writer (who in this matter was the instrument 
+of the Holy Ghost) was to descend to Abraham through the successions 
+of ascertained generations propagated from one man, and then to pass 
+from Abraham’s seed to the people of God, in whom, separated as they 
+were from other nations, was prefigured and predicted all that relates to 
+the city whose reign is eternal, and to its king and founder Christ, which 
+things were foreseen in the Spirit as destined to come; yet neither is this 
+object so effected as that nothing is said of the other society of men 
+which we call the earthly city, but mention is made of it so far as seemed 
+needful to enhance the glory of the heavenly city by contrast to its 
+opposite. Accordingly, when the divine Scripture, in mentioning the 
+number of years which those men lived, concludes its account of each 
+man of whom it speaks, with the words, “And he begat sons and 
+daughters, and all his days were so and so, and he died,” are we to 
+understand that, because it does not name those sons and daughters, 
+therefore, during that long term of years over which one lifetime 
+extended in those early days, there might not have been born very many 
+men, by whose united numbers not one but several cities might have 
+been built? But it suited the purpose of God, by whose inspiration these 
+histories were composed, to arrange and distinguish from the first these 
+two societies in their several generations—that on the one side the 
+generations of men, that is to say, of those who live according to man, 
+and on the other side the generations of the sons of God, that is to say, 
+of men living according to God, might be traced down together and yet 
+apart from one another as far as the deluge, at which point their 
+dissociation and association are exhibited: their dissociation, inasmuch 
+as the generations of both lines are recorded in separate tables, the one 
+line descending from the fratricide Cain, the other from Seth, who had 
+been born to Adam instead of him whom his brother slew; their 
+association, inasmuch as the good so deteriorated that the whole race 
+became of such a character that it was swept away by the deluge, with 
+the exception of one just man, whose name was Noah, and his wife and 
+three sons and three daughters-in-law, which eight persons were alone 
+deemed worthy to escape from that desolating visitation which 
+
+
+destroyed all men. 
+
+Therefore, although it is written, “And Cain knew his wife, and she 
+conceived and bare Enoch, and he builded a city and called the name of 
+the city after the name of his son Enoch,”29 it does not follow that we 
+are to believe this to have been his first-born; for we cannot suppose that 
+this is proved by the expression “he knew his wife,” as if then for the 
+first time he had had intercourse with her. For in the case of Adam, the 
+father of all, this expression is used not only when Cain, who seems to 
+have been his first-born, was conceived, but also afterwards the same 
+Scripture says, “Adam knew Eve his wife, and she conceived and bare a 
+son, and called his name Seth.”30 Whence it is obvious that Scripture 
+employs this expression neither always when a birth is recorded nor then 
+only when the birth of a first-born is mentioned. Neither is it necessary 
+to suppose that Enoch was Cain’s first-born because he named his city 
+after him. For it is quite possible that though he had other sons, yet for 
+some reason the father loved him more than the rest. Judah was not the 
+first-born, though he gives his name to Judæa and the Jews. But even 
+though Enoch was the first-born of the city’s founder, that is no reason 
+for supposing that the father named the city after him as soon as he was 
+born; for at that time he, being but a solitary man, could not have 
+founded a civic community, which is nothing else than a multitude of 
+men bound together by some associating tie. But when his family 
+increased to such numbers that he had quite a population, then it 
+became possible to him both to build a city, and give it, when founded, 
+the name of his son. For so long was the life of those antediluvians, that 
+he who lived the shortest time of those whose years are mentioned in 
+Scripture attained to the age of 753 years.31 And though no one attained 
+the age of a thousand years, several exceeded the age of nine hundred. 
+Who then can doubt that during the lifetime of one man the human race 
+might be so multiplied that there would be a population to build and 
+occupy not one but several cities? And this might very readily be 
+conjectured from the fact that from one man, Abraham, in not much 
+more than four hundred years, the numbers of the Hebrew race so 
+increased, that in the exodus of that people from Egypt there are 
+recorded to have been six hundred thousand men capable of bearing 
+arms,32 and this over and above the Idumæans, who, though not 
+numbered with Israel’s descendants, were yet sprung from his brother, 
+
+
+also a grandson of Abraham; and over and above the other nations 
+which were of the same stock of Abraham, though not through Sarah— 
+that is, his descendants by Hagar and Keturah, the Ishmaelites, 
+Midianites, etc. 
+
+
+9. Of the long life and greater stature of the antediluvians 
+
+
+Wherefore no one who considerately weighs facts will doubt that Cain 
+might have built a city, and that a large one, when it is observed how 
+prolonged were the lives of men, unless perhaps some sceptic take 
+exception to this very length of years which our authors ascribe to the 
+antediluvians and deny that this is credible. And so, too, they do not 
+believe that the size of men’s bodies was larger then than now, though 
+the most esteemed of their own poets, Virgil, asserts the same, when he 
+speaks of that huge stone which had been fixed as a landmark, and 
+which a strong man of those ancient times snatched up as he fought, and 
+ran, and hurled, and cast it— 
+
+
+“Scarce twelve strong men of later mould 
+
+
+That weight could on their necks uphold;”33 
+
+
+thus declaring his opinion that the earth then produced mightier men. 
+And if in the more recent times, how much more in the ages before the 
+world-renowned deluge? But the large size of the primitive human body 
+is often proved to the incredulous by the exposure of sepulchres, either 
+through the wear of time or the violence of torrents or some accident, 
+and in which bones of incredible size have been found or have rolled 
+out. I myself, along with some others, saw on the shore at Utica a man’s 
+molar tooth of such a size, that if it were cut down into teeth such as we 
+have, a hundred, I fancy, could have been made out of it. But that, I 
+believe, belonged to some giant. For though the bodies of ordinary men 
+were then larger than ours, the giants surpassed all in stature. And 
+neither in our own age nor any other have there been altogether wanting 
+instances of gigantic stature, though they may be few. The younger 
+Pliny, a most learned man, maintains that the older the world becomes, 
+the smaller will be the bodies of men.34 And he mentions that Homer in 
+his poems often lamented the same decline; and this he does not laugh at 
+as a poetical figment, but in his character of a recorder of natural 
+
+
+wonders accepts it as historically true. But, as I said, the bones which are 
+from time to time discovered prove the size of the bodies of the 
+ancients,°5 and will do so to future ages, for they are slow to decay. But 
+the length of an antediluvian’s life cannot now be proved by any such 
+monumental evidence. But we are not on this account to withhold our 
+faith from the sacred history, whose statements of past fact we are the 
+more inexcusable in discrediting, as we see the accuracy of its prediction 
+of what was future. And even that same Pliny?6 tells us that there is still 
+a nation in which men live 200 years. If, then, in places unknown to us, 
+men are believed to have a length of days which is quite beyond our 
+own experience, why should we not believe the same of times distant 
+from our own? Or are we to believe that in other places there is what is 
+not here, while we do not believe that in other times there has been 
+anything but what is now? 
+
+
+10. Of the different computation of the ages of the antediluvians, given by the Hebrew 
+
+
+manuscripts and by our own37 
+
+
+Wherefore, although there is a discrepancy for which I cannot account 
+between our manuscripts and the Hebrew, in the very number of years 
+assigned to the antediluvians, yet the discrepancy is not so great that 
+they do not agree about their longevity. For the very first man, Adam, 
+before he begot his son Seth, is in our manuscripts found to have lived 
+230 years, but in the Hebrew mss. 130. But after he begot Seth, our 
+copies read that he lived 700 years, while the Hebrew give 800. And 
+thus, when the two periods are taken together, the sum agrees. And so 
+throughout the succeeding generations, the period before the father 
+begets a son is always made shorter by 100 years in the Hebrew, but the 
+period after his son is begotten is longer by 100 years in the Hebrew 
+than in our copies. And thus, taking the two periods together, the result 
+is the same in both. And in the sixth generation there is no discrepancy 
+at all. In the seventh, however, of which Enoch is the representative, 
+who is recorded to have been translated without death because he 
+pleased God, there is the same discrepancy as in the first five 
+generations, 100 years more being ascribed to him by our mss. before he 
+begat a son. But still the result agrees; for according to both documents 
+he lived before he was translated 365 years. In the eighth generation the 
+discrepancy is less than in the others, and of a different kind. For 
+
+
+Methuselah, whom Enoch begat, lived, before he begat his successor, not 
+100 years less, but 100 years more, according to the Hebrew reading; 
+and in our mss. again these years are added to the period after he begat 
+his son; so that in this case also the sum-total is the same. And it is only 
+in the ninth generation, that is, in the age of Lamech, Methuselah’s son 
+and Noah’s father, that there is a discrepancy in the sum-total; and even 
+in this case it is slight. For the Hebrew mss. represent him as living 
+twenty-four years more than ours assign to him. For before he begat his 
+son, who was called Noah, six years fewer are given to him by the 
+Hebrew mss. than by ours; but after he begat this son, they give him 
+thirty years more than ours; so that, deducting the former six, there 
+remains, as we said, a surplus of twenty-four. 
+
+
+11. Of Methuselah’s age, which seems to extend fourteen years beyond the deluge 
+
+
+From this discrepancy between the Hebrew books and our own arises 
+the well-known question as to the age of Methuselah;3° for it is 
+computed that he lived for fourteen years after the deluge, though 
+Scripture relates that of all who were then upon the earth only the eight 
+souls in the ark escaped destruction by the flood, and of these 
+Methuselah was not one. For, according to our books, Methuselah, 
+before he begat the son whom he called Lamech, lived 167 years; then 
+Lamech himself, before his son Noah was born, lived 188 years, which 
+together make 355 years. Add to these the age of Noah at the date of the 
+deluge, 600 years, and this gives a total of 955 from the birth of 
+Methuselah to the year of the flood. Now all the years of the life of 
+Methuselah are computed to be 969; for when he had lived 167 years, 
+and had begotten his son Lamech, he then lived after this 802 years, 
+which makes a total, as we said, of 969 years. From this, if we deduct 
+955 years from the birth of Methuselah to the flood, there remain 
+fourteen years, which he is supposed to have lived after the flood. And 
+therefore some suppose that, though he was not on earth (in which it is 
+agreed that every living thing which could not naturally live in water 
+perished), he was for a time with his father, who had been translated, 
+and that he lived there till the flood had passed away. This hypothesis 
+they adopt, that they may not cast a slight on the trustworthiness of 
+versions which the Church has received into a position of high 
+
+
+authority,39 and because they believe that the Jewish mss. rather than our 
+own are in error. For they do not admit that this is a mistake of the 
+translators, but maintain that there is a falsified statement in the 
+original, from which, through the Greek, the Scripture has been 
+translated into our own tongue. They say that it is not credible that the 
+seventy translators, who simultaneously and unanimously produced one 
+rendering, could have erred, or, in a case in which no interest of theirs 
+was involved, could have falsified their translation; but that the Jews, 
+envying us our translation of their Law and Prophets, have made 
+alterations in their texts so as to undermine the authority of ours. This 
+opinion or suspicion let each man adopt according to his own judgment. 
+Certain it is that Methuselah did not survive the flood, but died in the 
+very year it occurred, if the numbers given in the Hebrew ss. are true. 
+My own opinion regarding the seventy translators I will, with God’s 
+help, state more carefully in its own place, when I have come down 
+(following the order which this work requires) to that period in which 
+their translation was executed.4° For the present question, it is enough 
+that, according to our versions, the men of that age had lives so long as 
+to make it quite possible that, during the lifetime of the first-born of the 
+two sole parents then on earth, the human race multiplied sufficiently to 
+form a community. 
+
+
+12. Of the opinion of those who do not believe that in these primitive times men lived so long as 
+
+
+is stated 
+
+
+For they are by no means to be listened to who suppose that in those 
+times years were differently reckoned, and were so short that one of our 
+years may be supposed to be equal to ten of theirs. So that they say, 
+when we read or hear that some man lived 900 years, we should 
+understand ninety—ten of those years making but one of ours, and ten of 
+ours equalling 100 of theirs. Consequently, as they suppose, Adam was 
+twenty-three years of age when he begat Seth, and Seth himself was 
+twenty years and six months old when his son Enos was born, though 
+the Scripture calls these months 205 years. For, on the hypothesis of 
+those whose opinion we are explaining, it was customary to divide one 
+such year as we have into ten parts, and to call each part a year. And 
+each of these parts was composed of six days squared; because God 
+finished His works in six days, that He might rest the seventh. Of this I 
+
+
+disputed according to my ability in the eleventh book.4! Now six 
+squared, or six times six, gives thirty-six days; and this multiplied by ten 
+amounts to 360 days, or twelve lunar months. As for the five remaining 
+days which are needed to complete the solar year, and for the fourth 
+part of a day, which requires that into every fourth or leap-year a day be 
+added, the ancients added such days as the Romans used to call 
+“intercalary,” in order to complete the number of the years. So that 
+Enos, Seth’s son, was nineteen years old when his son Cainan was born, 
+though Scripture calls these years 190. And so through all the 
+generations in which the ages of the antediluvians are given, we find in 
+our versions that almost no one begat a son at the age of 100 or under, 
+or even at the age of 120 or thereabouts; but the youngest fathers are 
+recorded to have been 160 years old and upwards. And the reason of 
+this, they say, is that no one can beget children when he is ten years old, 
+the age spoken of by those men as 100, but that sixteen is the age of 
+puberty, and competent now to propagate offspring; and this is the age 
+called by them 160. And that it may not be thought incredible that in 
+these days the year was differently computed from our own, they adduce 
+what is recorded by several writers of history, that the Egyptians had a 
+year of four months, the Acarnanians of six, and the Lavinians of 
+thirteen months.42 The younger Pliny, after mentioning that some 
+writers reported that one man had lived 152 years, another ten more, 
+others 200, others 300, that some had even reached 500 and 600, and a 
+few 800 years of age, gave it as his opinion that all this must be ascribed 
+to mistaken computation. For some, he says, make summer and winter 
+each a year; others make each season a year, like the Arcadians, whose 
+years, he says, were of three months. He added, too, that the Egyptians, 
+of whose little years of four months we have spoken already, sometimes 
+terminated their year at the wane of each moon; so that with them there 
+are produced lifetimes of 1000 years. 
+
+By these plausible arguments certain persons, with no desire to 
+weaken the credit of this sacred history, but rather to facilitate belief in 
+it by removing the difficulty of such incredible longevity, have been 
+themselves persuaded, and think they act wisely in persuading others, 
+that in these days the year was so brief that ten of their years equal but 
+one of ours, while ten of ours equal 100 of theirs. But there is the 
+plainest evidence to show that this is quite false. Before producing this 
+
+
+evidence, however, it seems right to mention a conjecture which is yet 
+more plausible. From the Hebrew manuscripts we could at once refute 
+this confident statement; for in them Adam is found to have lived not 
+230 but 130 years before he begat his third son. If, then, this mean 
+thirteen years by our ordinary computation, then he must have begotten 
+his first son when he was only twelve or thereabouts. Who can at this 
+age beget children according to the ordinary and familiar course of 
+nature? But not to mention him, since it is possible he may have been 
+able to beget his like as soon as he was created—for it is not credible 
+that he was created so little as our infants are—not to mention him, his 
+son was not 205 years old when he begat Enos, as our versions have it, 
+but 105, and consequently, according to this idea, was not eleven years 
+old. But what shall I say of his son Cainan, who, though by our version 
+170 years old, was by the Hebrew text seventy when he beget 
+Mahalaleel? If seventy years in those times meant only seven of our 
+years, what man of seven years old begets children? 
+
+
+13. Whether, in computing years, we ought to follow the Hebrew or the Septuagint 
+
+
+But if I say this, I shall presently be answered, It is one of the Jews’ 
+lies. This, however, we have disposed of above, showing that it cannot 
+be that men of so just a reputation as the seventy translators should have 
+falsified their version. However, if I ask them which of the two is more 
+credible, that the Jewish nation, scattered far and wide, could have 
+unanimously conspired to forge this lie, and so, through envying others 
+the authority of their Scriptures, have deprived themselves of their 
+verity; or that seventy men, who were also themselves Jews, shut up in 
+one place (for Ptolemy king of Egypt had got them together for this 
+work), should have envied foreign nations that same truth, and by 
+common consent inserted these errors: who does not see which can be 
+more naturally and readily believed? But far be it from any prudent man 
+to believe either that the Jews, however malicious and wrong-headed, 
+could have tampered with so many and so widely-dispersed manuscripts; 
+or that those renowned seventy individuals had any common purpose to 
+grudge the truth to the nations. One must therefore more plausibly 
+maintain, that when first their labours began to be transcribed from the 
+copy in Ptolemy’s library, some such misstatement might find its way 
+into the first copy made, and from it might be disseminated far and 
+
+
+wide; and that this might arise from no fraud, but from a mere copyist’s 
+error. This is a sufficiently plausible account of the difficulty regarding 
+Methuselah’s life, and of that other case in which there is a difference in 
+the total of twenty-four years. But in those cases in which there is a 
+methodical resemblance in the falsification, so that uniformly the one 
+version allots to the period before a son and successor is born 100 years 
+more than the other, and to the period subsequent 100 years less, and 
+vice versd, so that the totals may agree—and this holds true of the first, 
+second, third, fourth, fifth, and seventh generations—in these cases error 
+seems to have, if we may say so, a certain kind of constancy, and savours 
+not of accident, but of design. 
+
+Accordingly, that diversity of numbers which distinguishes the 
+Hebrew from the Greek and Latin copies of Scripture, and which consists 
+of a uniform addition and deduction of 100 years in each lifetime for 
+several consecutive generations, is to be attributed neither to the malice 
+of the Jews nor to men so diligent and prudent as the seventy 
+translators, but to the error of the copyist who was first allowed to 
+transcribe the manuscript from the library of the above-mentioned king. 
+For even now, in cases where numbers contribute nothing to the easier 
+comprehension or more satisfactory knowledge of anything, they are 
+both carelessly transcribed, and still more carelessly emended. For who 
+will trouble himself to learn how many thousand men the several tribes 
+of Israel contained? He sees no resulting benefit of such knowledge. Or 
+how many men are there who are aware of the vast advantage that lies 
+hid in this knowledge? But in this case, in which during so many 
+consecutive generations 100 years are added in one manuscript where 
+they are not reckoned in the other, and then, after the birth of the son 
+and successor, the years which were wanting are added, it is obvious 
+that the copyist who contrived this arrangement designed to insinuate 
+that the antediluvians lived an excessive number of years only because 
+each year was excessively brief, and that he tried to draw the attention 
+to this fact by his statement of their age of puberty at which they 
+became able to beget children. For, lest the incredulous might stumble at 
+the difficulty of so long a lifetime, he insinuated that 100 of their years 
+equalled but ten of ours; and this insinuation he conveyed by adding 100 
+years whenever he found the age below 160 years or thereabouts, 
+deducting these years again from the period after the son’s birth, that 
+
+
+the total might harmonize. By this means he intended to ascribe the 
+generation of offspring to a fit age, without diminishing the total sum of 
+years ascribed to the lifetime of the individuals. And the very fact that in 
+the sixth generation he departed from this uniform practice, inclines us 
+all the rather to believe that when the circumstances we have referred to 
+required his alterations, he made them; seeing that when this 
+circumstance did not exist, he made no alteration. For in the same 
+generation he found in the Hebrew mss. that Jared lived before he begat 
+Enoch 162 years, which, according to the short year computation, is 
+sixteen years and somewhat less than two months, an age capable of 
+procreation; and therefore it was not necessary to add 100 short years, 
+and so make the age twenty-six years of the usual length; and of course 
+it was not necessary to deduct, after the son’s birth, years which he had 
+not added before it. And thus it comes to pass that in this instance there 
+is no variation between the two manuscripts. 
+
+This is corroborated still further by the fact that in the eighth 
+generation, while the Hebrew books assign 18243 years to Methuselah 
+before Lamech’s birth, ours assign to him twenty less, though usually 
+100 years are added to this period; then, after Lamech’s birth, the twenty 
+years are restored, so as to equalize the total in the two books. For if his 
+design was that these 170 years be understood as seventeen, so as to suit 
+the age of puberty, as there was no need for him adding anything, so 
+there was none for his subtracting anything; for in this case he found an 
+age fit for the generation of children, for the sake of which he was in the 
+habit of adding those 100 years in cases where he did not find the age 
+already sufficient. This difference of twenty years we might, indeed, 
+have supposed had happened accidentally, had he not taken care to 
+restore them afterwards as he had deducted them from the period 
+before, so that there might be no deficiency in the total. Or are we 
+perhaps to suppose that there was the still more astute design of 
+concealing the deliberate and uniform addition of 100 years to the first 
+period and their deduction from the subsequent period—did he design to 
+conceal this by doing something similar, that is to say, adding and 
+deducting, not indeed a century, but some years, even in a case in which 
+there was no need for his doing so? But whatever may be thought of 
+this, whether it be believed that he did so or not, whether, in fine, it be 
+so or not, I would have no manner of doubt that when any diversity is 
+
+
+found in the books, since both cannot be true to fact, we do well to 
+believe in preference that language out of which the translation was 
+made into another by translators. For there are three Greek mss., one 
+Latin, and one Syriac, which agree with one another, and in all of these 
+Methuselah is said to have died six years before the deluge. 
+
+
+14. That the years in those ancient times were of the same length as our own 
+
+
+Let us now see how it can be plainly made out that in the enormously 
+protracted lives of those men the years were not so short that ten of their 
+years were equal to only one of ours, but were of as great length as our 
+own, which are measured by the course of the sun. It is proved by this, 
+that Scripture states that the flood occurred in the six hundredth year of 
+Noah’s life. But why in the same place is it also written, “The waters of 
+the flood were upon the earth in the six hundredth year of Noah’s life, in 
+the second month, the twenty-seventh day of the month,” if that very 
+brief year (of which it took ten to make one of ours) consisted of thirty- 
+six days? For so scant a year, if the ancient usage dignified it with the 
+name of year, either has not months, or its month must be three days, so 
+that it may have twelve of them. How then was it here said, “In the six 
+hundredth year, the second month, the twenty-seventh day of the 
+month,” unless the months then were of the same length as the months 
+now? For how else could it be said that the flood began on the twenty- 
+seventh day of the second month? Then afterwards, at the end of the 
+flood, it is thus written: “And the ark rested in the seventh month, on the 
+twenty-seventh day of the month, on the mountains of Ararat. And the 
+waters decreased continually until the eleventh month: on the first day 
+of the month were the tops of the mountains seen.”45 But if the months 
+were such as we have, then so were the years. And certainly months of 
+three days each could not have a twenty-seventh day. Or if every 
+measure of time was diminished in proportion, and a thirtieth part of 
+three days was then called a day, then that great deluge, which is 
+recorded to have lasted forty days and forty nights, was really over in 
+less than four of our days. Who can away with such foolishness and 
+absurdity? Far be this error from us—an error which seeks to build up 
+our faith in the divine Scriptures on false conjecture, only to demolish 
+our faith at another point. It is plain that the day then was what it now 
+is, a space of four-and-twenty hours, determined by the lapse of day and 
+
+
+night; the month then equal to the month now, which is defined by the 
+rise and completion of one moon; the year then equal to the year now, 
+which is completed by twelve lunar months, with the addition of five 
+days and a-fourth to adjust it with the course of the sun. It was a year of 
+this length which was reckoned the six hundredth of Noah’s life; and in 
+the second month, the twenty-seventh day of the month, the flood began 
+—a flood which, as is recorded, was caused by heavy rains continuing 
+for forty days, which days had not only two hours and a little more, but 
+four-and-twenty hours, completing a night and a day. And consequently 
+those antediluvians lived more than 900 years, which were years as long 
+as those which afterwards Abraham lived 175 of, and after him his son 
+Isaac 180, and his son Jacob nearly 150, and some time after, Moses 
+120, and men now seventy or eighty, or not much longer, of which years 
+it is said, “their strength is labour and sorrow.”46 
+
+But that discrepancy of numbers which is found to exist between our 
+own and the Hebrew text does not touch the longevity of the ancients; 
+and if there is any diversity so great that both versions cannot be true, 
+we must take our ideas of the real facts from that text out of which our 
+own version has been translated. However, though any one who pleases 
+has it in his power to correct this version, yet it is not unimportant to 
+observe that no one has presumed to emend the Septuagint from the 
+Hebrew text in the many places where they seem to disagree. For this 
+difference has not been reckoned a falsification; and for my own part I 
+am persuaded it ought not to be reckoned so. But where the difference is 
+not a mere copyist’s error, and where the sense is agreeable to truth and 
+illustrative of truth, we must believe that the divine Spirit prompted 
+them to give a varying version, not in their function of translators, but in 
+the liberty of prophesying. And therefore we find that the apostles justly 
+sanction the Septuagint, by quoting it as well as the Hebrew when they 
+adduce proofs from the Scriptures. But as I have promised to treat this 
+subject more carefully, if God help me, in a more fitting place, I will now 
+go on with the matter in hand. For there can be no doubt that, the lives 
+of men being so long, the first-born of the first man could have built a 
+city—a city, however, which was earthly, and not that which is called 
+the city of God, to describe which we have taken in hand this great 
+work. 
+
+
+15. Whether it is credible that the men of the primitive age abstained from sexual intercourse until 
+that date at which it is recorded that they begat children 
+
+
+Some one, then, will say, Is it to be believed that a man who intended 
+to beget children, and had no intention of continence, abstained from 
+sexual intercourse a hundred years and more, or even, according to the 
+Hebrew version, only a little less, say eighty, seventy, or sixty years; or, 
+if he did not abstain, was unable to beget offspring? This question 
+admits of two solutions. For either puberty was so much later as the 
+whole life was longer, or, which seems to me more likely, it is not the 
+first-born sons that are here mentioned, but those whose names were 
+required to fill up the series until Noah was reached, from whom again 
+we see that the succession is continued to Abraham, and after him down 
+to that point of time until which it was needful to mark by pedigree the 
+course of the most glorious city, which sojourns as a stranger in this 
+world, and seeks the heavenly country. That which is undeniable is that 
+Cain was the first who was born of man and woman. For had he not 
+been the first who was added by birth to the two unborn persons, Adam 
+could not have said what he is recorded to have said, “I have gotten a 
+man by the Lord.”4” He was followed by Abel, whom the elder brother 
+slew, and who was the first to show, by a kind of foreshadowing of the 
+sojourning city of God, what iniquitous persecutions that city would 
+suffer at the hands of wicked and, as it were, earth-born men, who love 
+their earthly origin, and delight in the earthly happiness of the earthly 
+city. But how old Adam was when he begat these sons does not appear. 
+After this the generations diverge, the one branch deriving from Cain, 
+the other from him whom Adam begot in the room of Abel slain by his 
+brother, and whom he called Seth, saying, as it is written, “For God hath 
+raised me up another seed for Abel whom Cain slew.”48 These two series 
+of generations accordingly, the one of Cain, the other of Seth, represent 
+the two cities in their distinctive ranks, the one the heavenly city, which 
+sojourns on earth, the other the earthly, which gapes after earthly joys, 
+and grovels in them as if they were the only joys. But though eight 
+generations, including Adam, are registered before the flood, no man of 
+Cain’s line has his age recorded at which the son who succeeded him 
+was begotten. For the Spirit of God refused to mark the times before the 
+flood in the generations of the earthly city, but preferred to do so in the 
+
+
+heavenly line, as if it were more worthy of being remembered. Further, 
+when Seth was born, the age of his father is mentioned; but already he 
+had begotten other sons, and who will presume to say that Cain and 
+Abel were the only ones previously begotten? For it does not follow that 
+they alone had been begotten of Adam, because they alone were named 
+in order to continue the series of generations which it was desirable to 
+mention. For though the names of all the rest are buried in silence, yet it 
+is said that Adam begot sons and daughters; and who that cares to be 
+free from the charge of temerity will dare to say how many his offspring 
+numbered? It was possible enough that Adam was divinely prompted to 
+say, after Seth was born, “For God hath raised up to me another seed for 
+Abel,” because that son was to be capable of representing Abel’s 
+holiness, not because he was born first after him in point of time. Then 
+because it is written, “And Seth lived 205 years,” or, according to the 
+Hebrew reading, “105 years, and begat Enos,”49 who but a rash man 
+could affirm that this was his first-born? Will any man do so to excite 
+our wonder, and cause us to inquire how for so many years he remained 
+free from sexual intercourse, though without any purpose of continuing 
+so, or how, if he did not abstain, he yet had no children? Will any man 
+do so when it is written of him, “And he begat sons and daughters, and 
+all the days of Seth were 912 years, and he died?”59 And similarly 
+regarding those whose years are afterwards mentioned, it is not 
+disguised that they begat sons and daughters. 
+
+Consequently it does not at all appear whether he who is named as the 
+son was himself the first begotten. Nay, since it is incredible that those 
+fathers were either so long in attaining puberty, or could not get wives, 
+or could not impregnate them, it is also incredible that those sons were 
+their first-born. But as the writer of the sacred history designed to 
+descend by well-marked intervals through a series of generations to the 
+birth and life of Noah, in whose time the flood occurred, he mentioned 
+not those sons who were first begotten, but those by whom the 
+succession was handed down. 
+
+Let me make this clearer by here inserting an example, in regard to 
+which no one can have any doubt that what I am asserting is true. The 
+evangelist Matthew, where he designs to commit to our memories the 
+generation of the Lord’s flesh by a series of parents, beginning from 
+Abraham and intending to reach David, says, “Abraham begat Isaac;”51 
+
+
+why did he not say Ishmael, whom he first begat? Then “Isaac begat 
+Jacob;” why did he not say Esau, who was the first-born? Simply 
+because these sons would not have helped him to reach David. Then 
+follows, “And Jacob begat Judah and his brethren:” was Judah the first 
+begotten? “Judah,” he says, “begat Pharez and Zara;” yet neither were 
+these twins the first-born of Judah, but before them he had begotten 
+three other sons. And so in the order of the generations he retained those 
+by whom he might reach David, so as to proceed onwards to the end he 
+had in view. And from this we may understand that the antediluvians 
+who are mentioned were not the first-born, but those through whom the 
+order of the succeeding generations might be carried on to the patriarch 
+Noah. We need not, therefore, weary ourselves with discussing the 
+needless and obscure question as to their lateness of reaching puberty. 
+
+
+16. Of marriage between blood-relations, in regard to which the present law could not bind the 
+
+
+men of the earliest ages 
+
+
+As, therefore, the human race, subsequently to the first marriage of 
+the man who was made of dust, and his wife who was made out of his 
+side, required the union of males and females in order that it might 
+multiply, and as there were no human beings except those who had been 
+born of these two, men took their sisters for wives—an act which was as 
+certainly dictated by necessity in these ancient days as afterwards it was 
+condemned by the prohibitions of religion. For it is very reasonable and 
+just that men, among whom concord is honourable and useful, should be 
+bound together by various relationships; and that one man should not 
+himself sustain many relationships, but that the various relationships 
+should be distributed among several, and should thus serve to bind 
+together the greatest number in the same social interests. “Father” and 
+“father-in-law” are the names of two relationships. When, therefore, a 
+man has one person for his father, another for his father-in-law, 
+friendship extends itself to a larger number. But Adam in his single 
+person was obliged to hold both relations to his sons and daughters, for 
+brothers and sisters were united in marriage. So too Eve his wife was 
+both mother and mother-in-law to her children of both sexes; while, had 
+there been two women, one the mother, the other the mother-in-law, the 
+family affection would have had a wider field. Then the sister herself by 
+becoming a wife sustained in her single person two relationships, which, 
+
+
+had they been distributed among individuals, one being sister, and 
+another being wife, the family tie would have embraced a greater 
+number of persons. But there was then no material for effecting this, 
+since there were no human beings but the brothers and sisters born of 
+those two first parents. Therefore, when an abundant population made it 
+possible, men ought to choose for wives women who were not already 
+their sisters; for not only would there then be no necessity for marrying 
+sisters, but, were it done, it would be most abominable. For if the 
+grandchildren of the first pair, being now able to choose their cousins for 
+wives, married their sisters, then it would no longer be only two but 
+three relationships that were held by one man, while each of these 
+relationships ought to have been held by a separate individual, so as to 
+bind together by family affection a larger number. For one man would in 
+that case be both father, and father-in-law, and uncle52 to his own 
+children (brother and sister now man and wife); and his wife would be 
+mother, aunt, and mother-in-law to them; and they themselves would be 
+not only brother and sister, and man and wife, but cousins also, being 
+the children of brother and sister. Now, all these relationships, which 
+combined three men into one, would have embraced nine persons had 
+each relationship been held by one individual, so that a man had one 
+person for his sister, another his wife, another his cousin, another his 
+father, another his uncle, another his father-in-law, another his mother, 
+another his aunt, another his mother-in-law; and thus the social bond 
+would not have been tightened to bind a few, but loosened to embrace a 
+larger number of relations. 
+
+And we see that, since the human race has increased and multiplied, 
+this is so strictly observed even among the profane worshippers of many 
+and false gods, that though their laws perversely allow a brother to 
+marry his sister,°3 yet custom, with a finer morality, prefers to forego 
+this licence; and though it was quite allowable in the earliest ages of the 
+human race to marry one’s sister, it is now abhorred as a thing which no 
+circumstances could justify. For custom has very great power either to 
+attract or to shock human feeling. And in this matter, while it restrains 
+concupiscence within due bounds, the man who neglects and disobeys it 
+is justly branded as abominable. For if it is iniquitous to plough beyond 
+our own boundaries through the greed of gain, is it not much more 
+iniquitous to transgress the recognised boundaries of morals through 
+
+
+sexual lust? And with regard to marriage in the next degree of 
+consanguinity, marriage between cousins, we have observed that in our 
+own time the customary morality has prevented this from being 
+frequent, though the law allows it. It was not prohibited by divine law, 
+nor as yet had human law prohibited it; nevertheless, though legitimate, 
+people shrank from it, because it lay so close to what was illegitimate, 
+and in marrying a cousin seemed almost to marry a sister—for cousins 
+are so Closely related that they are called brothers and sisters,54 and are 
+almost really so. But the ancient fathers, fearing that near relationship 
+might gradually in the course of generations diverge, and become distant 
+relationship, or cease to be relationship at all, religiously endeavoured to 
+limit it by the bond of marriage before it became distant, and thus, as it 
+were, to call it back when it was escaping them. And on this account, 
+even when the world was full of people, though they did not choose 
+wives from among their sisters or half-sisters, yet they preferred them to 
+be of the same stock as themselves. But who doubts that the modern 
+prohibition of the marriage even of cousins is the more seemly 
+regulation—not merely on account of the reason we have been urging, 
+the multiplying of relationships, so that one person might not absorb 
+two, which might be distributed to two persons, and so increase the 
+number of people bound together as a family, but also because there is 
+in human nature I know not what natural and praiseworthy 
+shamefacedness which restrains us from desiring that connection which, 
+though for propagation, is yet lustful, and which even conjugal modesty 
+blushes over, with any one to whom consanguinity bids us render 
+respect? 
+
+The sexual intercourse of man and woman, then, is in the case of 
+mortals a kind of seed-bed of the city; but while the earthly city needs 
+for its population only generation, the heavenly needs also regeneration 
+to rid it of the taint of generation. Whether before the deluge there was 
+any bodily or visible sign of regeneration, such as was afterwards 
+enjoined upon Abraham when he was circumcised, or what kind of sign 
+it was, the sacred history does not inform us. But it does inform us that 
+even these earliest of mankind sacrificed to God, as appeared also in the 
+case of the two first brothers; Noah, too, is said to have offered sacrifices 
+to God when he had come forth from the ark after the deluge. And 
+concerning this subject we have already said in the foregoing books that 
+
+
+the devils arrogate to themselves divinity, and require sacrifice that they 
+may be esteemed gods, and delight in these honours on no other account 
+than this, because they know that true sacrifice is due to the true God. 
+
+
+17. Of the two fathers and leaders who sprang from one progenitor 
+
+
+Since, then, Adam was the father of both lines—the father, that is to 
+say, both of the line which belonged to the earthly, and of that which 
+belonged to the heavenly city—when Abel was slain, and by his death 
+exhibited a marvellous mystery, there were henceforth two lines 
+proceeding from two fathers, Cain and Seth, and in those sons of theirs, 
+whom it behoved to register, the tokens of these two cities began to 
+appear more distinctly. For Cain begat Enoch, in whose name he built a 
+city, an earthly one, which was not from home in this world, but rested 
+satisfied with its temporal peace and happiness. Cain, too, means 
+“possession;” wherefore at his birth either his father or mother said, “I 
+have gotten a man through God.” Then Enoch means “dedication;” for 
+the earthly city is dedicated in this world in which it is built, for in this 
+world it finds the end towards which it aims and aspires. Further, Seth 
+signifies “resurrection,” and Enos his son signifies “man,” not as Adam, 
+which also signifies man but is used in Hebrew indifferently for man and 
+woman, as it is written, “Male and female created He them, and blessed 
+them, and called their name Adam,”°5 leaving no room to doubt that 
+though the woman was distinctively called Eve, yet the name Adam, 
+meaning man, was common to both. But Enos means man in so 
+restricted a sense, that Hebrew linguists tell us it cannot be applied to 
+woman: it is the equivalent of the “child of the resurrection,” when they 
+neither marry nor are given in marriage.56 For there shall be no 
+generation in that place to which regeneration shall have brought us. 
+Wherefore I think it not immaterial to observe that in those generations 
+which are propagated from him who is called Seth, although daughters 
+as well as sons are said to have been begotten, no woman is expressly 
+registered by name; but in those which sprang from Cain at the very 
+termination to which the line runs, the last person named as begotten is 
+a woman. For we read, “Methusael begat Lamech. And Lamech took 
+unto him two wives: the name of the one was Adah, and the name of the 
+other Zillah. And Adah bare Jabal: he was the father of the shepherds 
+that dwell in tents. And his brother’s name was Jubal: he was the father 
+
+
+of all such as handle the harp and organ. And Zillah, she also bare 
+Tubal-Cain, an instructor of every artificer in brass and iron: and the 
+sister of Tubal-Cain was Naamah.”57 Here terminate all the generations 
+of Cain, being eight in number, including Adam—to wit, seven from 
+Adam to Lamech, who married two wives, and whose children, among 
+whom a woman also is named, form the eighth generation. Whereby it is 
+elegantly signified that the earthly city shall to its termination have 
+carnal generations proceeding from the intercourse of males and 
+females. And therefore the wives themselves of the man who is the last 
+named father of Cain’s line are registered in their own names—a practice 
+nowhere followed before the deluge save in Eve’s case. Now as Cain, 
+signifying possession, the founder of the earthly city, and his son Enoch, 
+meaning dedication, in whose name it was founded, indicate that this 
+city is earthly both in its beginning and in its end—a city in which 
+nothing more is hoped for than can be seen in this world—so Seth, 
+meaning resurrection, and being the father of generations registered 
+apart from the others, we must consider what this sacred history says of 
+his son. 
+
+
+18. The significance of Abel, Seth, and Enos to Christ and His body the Church 
+
+
+“And to Seth,” it is said, “there was born a son, and he called his name 
+Enos: he hoped to call on the name of the Lord God.”58 Here we have a 
+loud testimony to the truth. Man, then, the son of the resurrection, lives 
+in hope: he lives in hope as long as the city of God, which is begotten by 
+faith in the resurrection, sojourns in this world. For in these two men, 
+Abel, signifying “grief,” and his brother Seth, signifying “resurrection,” 
+the death of Christ and His life from the dead are prefigured. And by 
+faith in these is begotten in this world the city of God, that is to say, the 
+man who has hoped to call on the name of the Lord. “For by hope,” says 
+the apostle, “we are saved: but hope that is seen is not hope: for what a 
+man seeth, why doth he yet hope for? But if we hope for that we see not, 
+then do we with patience wait for it.”"59 Who can avoid referring this to 
+a profound mystery? For did not Abel hope to call upon the name of the 
+Lord God when his sacrifice is mentioned in Scripture as having been 
+accepted by God? Did not Seth himself hope to call on the name of the 
+Lord God, of whom it was said, “For God hath appointed me another 
+seed instead of Abel?” Why then is this which is found to be common to 
+
+
+all the godly specially attributed to Enos, unless because it was fit that in 
+him, who is mentioned as the first-born of the father of those 
+generations which were separated to the better part of the heavenly city, 
+there should be a type of the man, or society of men, who live not 
+according to man in contentment with earthly felicity, but according to 
+God in hope of everlasting felicity? And it was not said, “He hoped in 
+the Lord God,” nor “He called on the name of the Lord God,” but “He 
+hoped to call on the name of the Lord God.” And what does this “hoped 
+to call” mean, unless it is a prophecy that a people should arise who, 
+according to the election of grace, would call on the name of the Lord 
+God? It is this which has been said by another prophet, and which the 
+apostle interprets of the people who belong to the grace of God: “And it 
+shall be that whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be 
+saved.”60 For these two expressions, “And he called his name Enos, 
+which means man,” and “He hoped to call on the name of the Lord 
+God,” are sufficient proof that man ought not to rest his hopes in 
+himself; as it is elsewhere written, “Cursed is the man that trusteth in 
+man.”6! Consequently no one ought to trust in himself that he shall 
+become a citizen of that other city which is not dedicated in the name of 
+Cain’s son in this present time, that is to say, in the fleeting course of 
+this mortal world, but in the immortality of perpetual blessedness. 
+
+
+19. The significance of Enoch’s translation 
+
+
+For that line also of which Seth is the father has the name 
+“Dedication” in the seventh generation from Adam, counting Adam. For 
+the seventh from him is Enoch, that is, Dedication. But this is that man 
+who was translated because he pleased God, and who held in the order 
+of the generations a remarkable place, being the seventh from Adam, a 
+number signalized by the consecration of the Sabbath. But, counting 
+from the diverging point of the two lines, or from Seth, he was the sixth. 
+Now it was on the sixth day God made man, and consummated His 
+works. But the translation of Enoch prefigured our deferred dedication; 
+for though it is indeed already accomplished in Christ our Head, who so 
+rose again that He shall die no more, and who was Himself also 
+translated, yet there remains another dedication of the whole house, of 
+which Christ Himself is the foundation, and this dedication is deferred 
+
+
+till the end, when all shall rise again to die no more. And whether it is 
+the house of God, or the temple of God, or the city of God, that is said to 
+be dedicated, it is all the same, and equally in accordance with the usage 
+of the Latin language. For Virgil himself calls the city of widest empire 
+“the house of Assaracus,”©2 meaning the Romans, who were descended 
+through the Trojans from Assaracus. He also calls them the house of 
+Æneas, because Rome was built by those Trojans who had come to Italy 
+under Æneas.63 For that poet imitated the sacred writings, in which the 
+Hebrew nation, though so numerous, is called the house of Jacob. 
+
+
+20. How it is that Cain’s line terminates in the eighth generation, while Noah, though descended 
+from the same father, Adam, is found to be the tenth from him 
+
+
+Some one will say, If the writer of this history intended, in 
+enumerating the generations from Adam through his son Seth, to 
+descend through them to Noah, in whose time the deluge occurred, and 
+from him again to trace the connected generations down to Abraham, 
+with whom Matthew begins the pedigree of Christ the eternal King of 
+the city of God, what did he intend by enumerating the generations from 
+Cain, and to what terminus did he mean to trace them? We reply, To the 
+deluge, by which the whole stock of the earthly city was destroyed, but 
+repaired by the sons of Noah. For the earthly city and community of men 
+who live after the flesh will never fail until the end of this world, of 
+which our Lord says, “The children of this world generate, and are 
+generated.”64 But the city of God, which sojourns in this world, is 
+conducted by regeneration to the world to come, of which the children 
+neither generate nor are generated. In this world generation is common 
+to both cities; though even now the city of God has many thousand 
+citizens who abstain from the act of generation; yet the other city also 
+has some citizens who imitate these, though erroneously. For to that city 
+belong also those who have erred from the faith, and introduced divers 
+heresies; for they live according to man, not according to God. And the 
+Indian gymnosophists, who are said to philosophize in the solitudes of 
+India in a state of nudity, are its citizens; and they abstain from 
+marriage. For continence is not a good thing, except when it is practised 
+in the faith of the highest good, that is, God. Yet no one is found to have 
+practised it before the deluge; for indeed even Enoch himself, the 
+seventh from Adam, who is said to have been translated without dying, 
+
+
+begat sons and daughters before he was translated, and among these was 
+Methuselah, by whom the succession of the recorded generations is 
+maintained. 
+
+Why, then, is so small a number of Cain’s generations registered, if it 
+was proper to trace them to the deluge, and if there was no such delay of 
+the date of puberty as to preclude the hope of offspring for a hundred or 
+more years? For if the author of this book had not in view some one to 
+whom he might rigidly trace the series of generations, as he designed in 
+those which sprang from Seth’s seed to descend to Noah, and thence to 
+start again by a rigid order, what need was there of omitting the first- 
+born sons for the sake of descending to Lamech, in whose sons that line 
+terminates—that is to say, in the eighth generation from Adam, or the 
+seventh from Cain—as if from this point he had wished to pass on to 
+another series, by which he might reach either the Israelitish people, 
+among whom the earthly Jerusalem presented a prophetic figure of the 
+heavenly city, or to Jesus Christ, “according to the flesh, who is over all, 
+God blessed for ever,”©5 the Maker and Ruler of the heavenly city? What, 
+I say, was the need of this, seeing that the whole of Cain’s posterity were 
+destroyed in the deluge? From this it is manifest that they are the first- 
+born sons who are registered in this genealogy. Why, then, are there so 
+few of them? Their numbers in the period before the deluge must have 
+been greater, if the date of puberty bore no proportion to their longevity, 
+and they had children before they were a hundred years old. For 
+supposing they were on an average thirty years old when they began to 
+beget children, then, as there are eight generations, including Adam and 
+Lamech’s children, 8 times 30 gives 240 years; did they then produce no 
+more children in all the rest of the time before the deluge? With what 
+intention, then, did he who wrote this record make no mention of 
+subsequent generations? For from Adam to the deluge there are 
+reckoned, according to our copies of Scripture, 2262 years,6© and 
+according to the Hebrew text, 1656 years. Supposing, then, the smaller 
+number to be the true one, and subtracting from 1656 years 240, is it 
+credible that during the remaining 1400 and odd years until the deluge 
+the posterity of Cain begat no children? 
+
+But let any one who is moved by this call to mind that when I 
+discussed the question, how it is credible that those primitive men could 
+abstain for so many years from begetting children, two modes of solution 
+
+
+were found—either a puberty late in proportion to their longevity, or 
+that the sons registered in the genealogies were not the first-born, but 
+those through whom the author of the book intended to reach the point 
+aimed at, as he intended to reach Noah by the generations of Seth. So 
+that, if in the generations of Cain there occurs no one whom the writer 
+could make it his object to reach by omitting the first-borns and 
+inserting those who would serve such a purpose, then we must have 
+recourse to the supposition of late puberty, and say that only at some 
+age beyond a hundred years they became capable of begetting children, 
+so that the order of the generations ran through the first-borns, and 
+filled up even the whole period before the deluge, long though it was. It 
+is, however, possible that, for some more secret reason which escapes 
+me, this city, which we say is earthly, is exhibited in all its generations 
+down to Lamech and his sons, and that then the writer withholds from 
+recording the rest which may have existed before the deluge. And 
+without supposing so late a puberty in these men, there might be 
+another reason for tracing the generations by sons who were not first- 
+borns, viz. that the same city which Cain built, and named after his son 
+Enoch, may have had a widely extended dominion and many kings, not 
+reigning simultaneously, but successively, the reigning king begetting 
+always his successor. Cain himself would be the first of these kings; his 
+son Enoch, in whose name the city in which he reigned was built, would 
+be the second; the third Irad, whom Enoch begat; the fourth Mehujael, 
+whom Irad begat; the fifth Methusael, whom Mehujael begat; the sixth 
+Lamech, whom Methusael begat, and who is the seventh from Adam 
+through Cain. But it was not necessary that the first-born should succeed 
+their fathers in the kingdom, but those would succeed who were 
+recommended by the possession of some virtue useful to the earthly city, 
+or who were chosen by lot, or the son who was best liked by his father 
+would succeed by a kind of hereditary right to the throne. And the 
+deluge may have happened during the lifetime and reign of Lamech, and 
+may have destroyed him along with all other men, save those who were 
+in the ark. For we cannot be surprised that, during so long a period from 
+Adam to the deluge, and with the ages of individuals varying as they 
+did, there should not be an equal number of generations in both lines, 
+but seven in Cain’s, and ten in Seth’s; for as I have already said, Lamech 
+is the seventh from Adam, Noah the tenth; and in Lamech’s case not one 
+
+
+son only is registered, as in the former instances, but more, because it 
+was uncertain which of them would have succeeded when he died, if 
+there had intervened any time to reign between his death and the 
+deluge. 
+
+But in whatever manner the generations of Cain’s line are traced 
+downwards, whether it be by first-born sons or by the heirs to the 
+throne, it seems to me that I must by no means omit to notice that, when 
+Lamech had been set down as the seventh from Adam, there were 
+named, in addition, as many of his children as made up this number to 
+eleven, which is the number signifying sin; for three sons and one 
+daughter are added. The wives of Lamech have another signification, 
+different from that which I am now pressing. For at present I am 
+speaking of the children, and not of those by whom the children were 
+begotten. Since, then, the law is symbolized by the number ten—whence 
+that memorable Decalogue—there is no doubt that the number eleven, 
+which goes beyond®7 ten, symbolizes the transgression of the law, and 
+consequently sin. For this reason, eleven veils of goat’s skin were 
+ordered to be hung in the tabernacle of the testimony, which served in 
+the wanderings of God’s people as an ambulatory temple. And in that 
+haircloth there was a reminder of sins, because the goats were to be set 
+on the left hand of the Judge; and therefore, when we confess our sins, 
+we prostrate ourselves in haircloth, as if we were saying what is written 
+in the psalm, “My sin is ever before me.”68 The progeny of Adam, then, 
+by Cain the murderer, is completed in the number eleven, which 
+symbolizes sin; and this number itself is made up by a woman, as it was 
+by the same sex that beginning was made of sin by which we all die. 
+And it was committed that the pleasure of the flesh, which resists the 
+spirit, might follow; and so Naamah, the daughter of Lamech, means 
+“pleasure.” But from Adam to Noah, in the line of Seth, there are ten 
+generations. And to Noah three sons are added, of whom, while one fell 
+into sin, two were blessed by their father; so that, if you deduct the 
+reprobate and add the gracious sons to the number, you get twelve—a 
+number signalized in the case of the patriarchs and of the apostles, and 
+made up of the parts of the number seven multiplied into one another— 
+for three times four, or four times three, give twelve. These things being 
+so, I see that I must consider and mention how these two lines, which by 
+their separate genealogies depict the two cities, one of earth-born, the 
+
+
+other of regenerated persons, became afterwards so mixed and confused, 
+that the whole human race, with the exception of eight persons, 
+deserved to perish in the deluge. 
+
+
+21. Why it is that, as soon as Cain’s son Enoch has been named, the genealogy is forthwith 
+continued as far as the deluge, while after the mention of Enos, Seth’s son, the narrative returns 
+
+
+again to the creation of man 
+
+
+We must first see why, in the enumeration of Cain’s posterity, after 
+Enoch, in whose name the city was built, has been first of all mentioned, 
+the rest are at once enumerated down to that terminus of which I have 
+spoken, and at which that race and the whole line was destroyed in the 
+deluge; while, after Enos the son of Seth has been mentioned, the rest 
+are not at once named down to the deluge, but a clause is inserted to the 
+following effect: “This is the book of the generations of Adam. In the day 
+that God created man, in the likeness of God made He him; male and 
+female created He them; and blessed them, and called their name Adam, 
+in the day when they were created.”©9 This seems to me to be inserted 
+for this purpose, that here again the reckoning of the times may start 
+from Adam himself—a purpose which the writer had not in view in 
+speaking of the earthly city, as if God mentioned it, but did not take 
+account of its duration. But why does he return to this recapitulation 
+after mentioning the son of Seth, the man who hoped to call on the 
+name of the Lord God, unless because it was fit thus to present these two 
+cities, the one beginning with a murderer and ending in a murderer (for 
+Lamech, too, acknowledges to his two wives that he had committed 
+murder), the other built up by him who hoped to call upon the name of 
+the Lord God? For the highest and complete terrestrial duty of the city of 
+God, which is a stranger in this world, is that which was exemplified in 
+the individual who was begotten by him who typified the resurrection of 
+the murdered Abel. That one man is the unity of the whole heavenly 
+city, not yet indeed complete, but to be completed, as this prophetic 
+figure foreshows. The son of Cain, therefore, that is, the son of 
+possession (and of what but an earthly possession?), may have a name in 
+the earthly city which was built in his name. It is of such the Psalmist 
+says, “They call their lands after their own names.””9 Wherefore they 
+incur what is written in another psalm: “Thou, O Lord, in Thy city wilt 
+despise their image.”7! But as for the son of Seth, the son of the 
+
+
+resurrection, let him hope to call on the name of the Lord God. For he 
+prefigures that society of men which says, “But I am like a green olive- 
+tree in the house of God: I have trusted in the mercy of God.”72 But let 
+him not seek the empty honours of a famous name upon earth, for 
+“Blessed is the man that maketh the name of the Lord his trust, and 
+respecteth not vanities nor lying follies.””73 After having presented the 
+two cities, the one founded in the material good of this world, the other 
+in hope in God, but both starting from a common gate opened in Adam 
+into this mortal state, and both running on and running out to their 
+proper and merited ends, Scripture begins to reckon the times, and in 
+this reckoning includes other generations, making a recapitulation from 
+Adam, out of whose condemned seed, as out of one mass handed over to 
+merited damnation, God made some vessels of wrath to dishonour and 
+others vessels of mercy to honour; in punishment rendering to the 
+former what is due, in grace giving to the latter what is not due: in order 
+that by the very comparison of itself with the vessels of wrath, the 
+heavenly city, which sojourns on earth, may learn not to put confidence 
+in the liberty of its own will, but may hope to call on the name of the 
+Lord God. For will, being a nature which was made good by the good 
+God, but mutable by the immutable, because it was made out of nothing, 
+can both decline from good to do evil, which takes place when it freely 
+chooses, and can also escape the evil and do good, which takes place 
+only by divine assistance. 
+
+
+22. Of the fall of the sons of God who were captivated by the daughters of men, whereby all, with 
+the exception of eight persons, deservedly perished in the deluge 
+
+
+When the human race, in the exercise of this freedom of will, 
+increased and advanced, there arose a mixture and confusion of the two 
+cities by their participation in a common iniquity. And this calamity, as 
+well as the first, was occasioned by woman, though not in the same way; 
+for these women were not themselves betrayed, neither did they 
+persuade the men to sin, but having belonged to the earthly city and 
+society of the earthly, they had been of corrupt manners from the first, 
+and were loved for their bodily beauty by the sons of God, or the citizens 
+of the other city which sojourns in this world. Beauty is indeed a good 
+gift of God; but that the good may not think it a great good, God 
+dispenses it even to the wicked. And thus, when the good that is great 
+
+
+and proper to the good was abandoned by the sons of God, they fell to a 
+paltry good which is not peculiar to the good, but common to the good 
+and the evil; and when they were captivated by the daughters of men, 
+they adopted the manners of the earthly to win them as their brides, and 
+forsook the godly ways they had followed in their own holy society. And 
+thus beauty, which is indeed God’s handiwork, but only a temporal, 
+carnal, and lower kind of good, is not fitly loved in preference to God, 
+the eternal, spiritual, and unchangeable good. When the miser prefers 
+his gold to justice, it is through no fault of the gold, but of the man; and 
+so with every created thing. For though it be good, it may be loved with 
+an evil as well as with a good love: it is loved rightly when it is loved 
+ordinately; evilly, when inordinately. It is this which some one has 
+briefly said in these verses in praise of the Creator:74 “These are Thine, 
+they are good, because Thou art good who didst create them. There is in 
+them nothing of ours, unless the sin we commit when we forget the 
+order of things, and instead of Thee love that which Thou hast made.” 
+
+But if the Creator is truly loved, that is, if He Himself is loved and not 
+another thing in His stead, He cannot be evilly loved; for love itself is to 
+be ordinately loved, because we do well to love that which, when we 
+love it, makes us live well and virtuously. So that it seems to me that it 
+is a brief but true definition of virtue to say, it is the order of love; and 
+on this account, in the Canticles, the bride of Christ, the city of God, 
+sings, “Order love within me.”75 It was the order of this love then, this 
+charity or attachment, which the sons of God disturbed when they 
+forsook God, and were enamoured of the daughters of men.76 And by 
+these two names (sons of God and daughters of men) the two cities are 
+sufficiently distinguished. For though the former were by nature children 
+of men, they had come into possession of another name by grace. For in 
+the same Scripture in which the sons of God are said to have loved the 
+daughters of men, they are also called angels of God; whence many 
+suppose that they were not men but angels. 
+
+
+23. Whether we are to believe that angels, who are of a spiritual substance, fell in love with the 
+
+
+beauty of women, and sought them in marriage, and that from this connection giants were born 
+
+
+In the third book of this work (c. 5) we made a passing reference to 
+this question, but did not decide whether angels, inasmuch as they are 
+spirits, could have bodily intercourse with women. For it is written, 
+
+
+“Who maketh His angels spirits,””7” that is, He makes those who are by 
+nature spirits His angels by appointing them to the duty of bearing His 
+messages. For the Greek word ayyehos, which in Latin appears as 
+“angelus,” means a messenger. But whether the Psalmist speaks of their 
+bodies when he adds, “and His ministers a flaming fire,” or means that 
+God’s ministers ought to blaze with love as with a spiritual fire, is 
+doubtful. However, the same trustworthy Scripture testifies that angels 
+have appeared to men in such bodies as could not only be seen, but also 
+touched. There is, too, a very general rumour, which many have verified 
+by their own experience, or which trustworthy persons who have heard 
+the experience of others corroborate, that sylvans and fauns, who are 
+commonly called “incubi,” had often made wicked assaults upon women, 
+and satisfied their lust upon them; and that certain devils, called Duses 
+by the Gauls, are constantly attempting and effecting this impurity is so 
+generally affirmed, that it were impudent to deny it.78 From these 
+assertions, indeed, I dare not determine whether there be some spirits 
+embodied in an aerial substance (for this element, even when agitated 
+by a fan, is sensibly felt by the body), and who are capable of lust and of 
+mingling sensibly with women; but certainly I could by no means believe 
+that God’s holy angels could at that time have so fallen, nor can I think 
+that it is of them the Apostle Peter said, “For if God spared not the 
+angels that sinned, but cast them down to hell, and delivered them into 
+chains of darkness, to be reserved unto judgment.”79 I think he rather 
+speaks of those who first apostatized from God, along with their chief 
+the devil, who enviously deceived the first man under the form of a 
+serpent. But the same holy Scripture affords the most ample testimony 
+that even godly men have been called angels; for of John it is written: 
+“Behold, I send my messenger (angel) before Thy face, who shall prepare 
+Thy way.”80 And the prophet Malachi, by a peculiar grace specially 
+communicated to him, was called an angel.®! 
+
+But some are moved by the fact that we have read that the fruit of the 
+connection between those who are called angels of God and the women 
+they loved were not men like our own breed, but giants; just as if there 
+were not born even in our own time (as I have mentioned above) men of 
+much greater size than the ordinary stature. Was there not at Rome a 
+few years ago, when the destruction of the city now accomplished by the 
+Goths was drawing near, a woman, with her father and mother, who by 
+
+
+her gigantic size overtopped all others? Surprising crowds from all 
+quarters came to see her, and that which struck them most was the 
+circumstance that neither of her parents were quite up to the tallest 
+ordinary stature. Giants therefore might well be born, even before the 
+sons of God, who are also called angels of God, formed a connection 
+with the daughters of men, or of those living according to men, that is to 
+say, before the sons of Seth formed a connection with the daughters of 
+Cain. For thus speaks even the canonical Scripture itself in the book in 
+which we read of this; its words are: “And it came to pass, when men 
+began to multiply on the face of the earth, and daughters were born unto 
+them, that the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair 
+[good]; and they took them wives of all which they chose. And the Lord 
+God said, My Spirit shall not always strive with man, for that he also is 
+flesh: yet his days shall be an hundred and twenty years. There were 
+giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of 
+God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, 
+the same became the giants, men of renown.”82 These words of the 
+divine book sufficiently indicate that already there were giants in the 
+earth in those days, in which the sons of God took wives of the children 
+of men, when they loved them because they were good, that is, fair. For 
+it is the custom of this Scripture to call those who are beautiful in 
+appearance “good.” But after this connection had been formed, then too 
+were giants born. For the words are: “There were giants in the earth in 
+those days, and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the 
+daughters of men.” Therefore there were giants both before, “in those 
+days,” and “also after that.” And the words, “they bare children to 
+them,” show plainly enough that before the sons of God fell in this 
+fashion they begat children to God, not to themselves—that is to say, not 
+moved by the lust of sexual intercourse, but discharging the duty of 
+propagation, intending to produce not a family to gratify their own 
+pride, but citizens to people the city of God; and to these they as God’s 
+angels would bear the message, that they should place their hope in 
+God, like him who was born of Seth the son of resurrection, and who 
+hoped to call on the name of the Lord God, in which hope they and their 
+offspring would be co-heirs of eternal blessings, and brethren in the 
+family of which God is the Father. 
+
+But that those angels were not angels in the sense of not being men, as 
+
+
+some suppose, Scripture itself decides, which unambiguously declares 
+that they were men. For when it had first been stated that “the angels of 
+God saw the daughters of men that they were fair, and they took them 
+wives of all which they chose,” it was immediately added, “And the Lord 
+God said, My Spirit shall not always strive with these men, for that they 
+also are flesh.” For by the Spirit of God they had been made angels of 
+God, and sons of God; but declining towards lower things, they are 
+called men, a name of nature, not of grace; and they are called flesh, as 
+deserters of the Spirit, and by their desertion deserted [by Him]. The 
+Septuagint indeed calls them both angels of God and sons of God, 
+though all the copies do not show this, some having only the name “sons 
+of God.” And Aquila, whom the Jews prefer to the other interpreters,83 
+has translated neither angels of God nor sons of God, but sons of gods. 
+But both are correct. For they were both sons of God, and thus brothers 
+of their own fathers, who were children of the same God; and they were 
+sons of gods, because begotten by gods, together with whom they 
+themselves also were gods, according to that expression of the psalm: “I 
+have said, Ye are gods, and all of you are children of the Most High.”84 
+For the Septuagint translators are justly believed to have received the 
+Spirit of prophecy; so that, if they made any alterations under His 
+authority, and did not adhere to a strict translation, we could not doubt 
+that this was divinely dictated. However, the Hebrew word may be said 
+to be ambiguous, and to be susceptible of either translation, “sons of 
+God,” or “sons of gods.” 
+
+Let us omit, then, the fables of those scriptures which are called 
+apocryphal, because their obscure origin was unknown to the fathers 
+from whom the authority of the true Scriptures has been transmitted to 
+us by a most certain and well-ascertained succession. For though there is 
+some truth in these apocryphal writings, yet they contain so many false 
+statements, that they have no canonical authority. We cannot deny that 
+Enoch, the seventh from Adam, left some divine writings, for this is 
+asserted by the Apostle Jude in his canonical epistle. But it is not 
+without reason that these writings have no place in that canon of 
+Scripture which was preserved in the temple of the Hebrew people by 
+the diligence of successive priests; for their antiquity brought them 
+under suspicion, and it was impossible to ascertain whether these were 
+his genuine writings, and they were not brought forward as genuine by 
+
+
+the persons who were found to have carefully preserved the canonical 
+books by a successive transmission. So that the writings which are 
+produced under his name, and which contain these fables about the 
+giants, saying that their fathers were not men, are properly judged by 
+prudent men to be not genuine; just as many writings are produced by 
+heretics under the names both of other prophets, and, more recently, 
+under the names of the apostles, all of which, after careful examination, 
+have been set apart from canonical authority under the title of 
+Apocrypha. There is therefore no doubt that, according to the Hebrew 
+and Christian canonical Scriptures, there were many giants before the 
+deluge, and that these were citizens of the earthly society of men, and 
+that the sons of God, who were according to the flesh the sons of Seth, 
+sunk into this community when they forsook righteousness. Nor need we 
+wonder that giants should be born even from these. For all of their 
+children were not giants; but there were more then than in the 
+remaining periods since the deluge. And it pleased the Creator to 
+produce them, that it might thus be demonstrated that neither beauty, 
+nor yet size and strength, are of much moment to the wise man, whose 
+blessedness lies in spiritual and immortal blessings, in far better and 
+more enduring gifts, in the good things that are the peculiar property of 
+the good, and are not shared by good and bad alike. It is this which 
+another prophet confirms when he says, “These were the giants, famous 
+from the beginning, that were of so great stature, and so expert in war. 
+Those did not the Lord choose, neither gave He the way of knowledge 
+unto them; but they were destroyed because they had no wisdom, and 
+perished through their own foolishness.”85 
+
+
+24. How we are to understand this which the Lord said to those who were to perish in the flood: 
+“Their days shall be 120 years” 
+
+
+But that which God said, “Their days shall be an hundred and twenty 
+years,” is not to be understood as a prediction that henceforth men 
+should not live longer than 120 years—for even after the deluge we find 
+that they lived more than 500 years—but we are to understand that God 
+said this when Noah had nearly completed his fifth century, that is, had 
+lived 480 years, which Scripture, as it frequently uses the name of the 
+whole for the largest part, calls 500 years. Now the deluge came in the 
+600th year of Noah’s life, the second month; and thus 120 years were 
+
+
+predicted as being the remaining span of those who were doomed, which 
+years being spent, they should be destroyed by the deluge. And it is not 
+unreasonably believed that the deluge came as it did, because already 
+there were not found upon earth any who were not worthy of sharing a 
+death so manifestly judicial—not that a good man, who must die some 
+time, would be a jot the worse of such a death after it was past. 
+Nevertheless there died in the deluge none of those mentioned in the 
+sacred Scripture as descended from Seth. But here is the divine account 
+of the cause of the deluge: “The Lord God saw that the wickedness of 
+man was great in the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts 
+of his heart was only evil continually. And it repented®® the Lord that He 
+had made man on the earth, and it grieved Him at His heart. And the 
+Lord said, I will destroy man, whom I have created, from the face of the 
+earth; both man and beast, and the creeping thing, and the fowls of the 
+air: for 1am angry that I have made them.”87 
+
+
+25. Of the anger of God, which does not inflame His mind, nor disturb His unchangeable 
+tranquillity 
+
+
+The anger of God is not a disturbing emotion of His mind, but a 
+judgment by which punishment is inflicted upon sin. His thought and 
+reconsideration also are the unchangeable reason which changes things; 
+for He does not, like man, repent of anything He has done, because in all 
+matters His decision is as inflexible as His prescience is certain. But if 
+Scripture were not to use such expressions as the above, it would not 
+familiarly insinuate itself into the minds of all classes of men, whom it 
+seeks access to for their good, that it may alarm the proud, arouse the 
+careless, exercise the inquisitive, and satisfy the intelligent; and this it 
+could not do, did it not first stoop, and in a manner descend, to them 
+where they lie. But its denouncing death on all the animals of earth and 
+air is a declaration of the vastness of the disaster that was approaching: 
+not that it threatens destruction to the irrational animals as if they too 
+had incurred it by sin. 
+
+
+26. That the ark which Noah was ordered to make figures in every respect Christ and the church 
+
+
+Moreover, inasmuch as God commanded Noah, a just man, and, as the 
+truthful Scripture says, a man perfect in his generation—not indeed with 
+the perfection of the citizens of the city of God in that immortal 
+
+
+condition in which they equal the angels, but in so far as they can be 
+perfect in their sojourn in this world—inasmuch as God commanded 
+him, I say, to make an ark, in which he might be rescued from the 
+destruction of the flood, along with his family, ie. his wife, sons, and 
+daughters-in-law, and along with the animals who, in obedience to God’s 
+command, came to him into the ark: this is certainly a figure of the city 
+of God sojourning in this world; that is to say, of the church, which is 
+rescued by the wood on which hung the Mediator of God and men, the 
+man Christ Jesus.88 For even its very dimensions, in length, breadth, and 
+height, represent the human body in which He came, as it had been 
+foretold. For the length of the human body, from the crown of the head 
+to the sole of the foot, is six times its breadth from side to side, and ten 
+times its depth or thickness, measuring from back to front: that is to say, 
+if you measure a man as he lies on his back or on his face, he is six times 
+as long from head to foot as he is broad from side to side, and ten times 
+as long as he is high from the ground. And therefore the ark was made 
+300 cubits in length, 50 in breadth, and 30 in height. And its having a 
+door made in the side of it certainly signified the wound which was 
+made when the side of the Crucified was pierced with the spear: for by 
+this those who come to Him enter; for thence flowed the sacraments by 
+which those who believe are initiated. And the fact that it was ordered 
+to be made of squared timbers, signifies the immoveable steadiness of 
+the life of the saints; for however you turn a cube, it still stands. And the 
+other peculiarities of the ark’s construction are signs of features of the 
+church. 
+
+But we have not now time to pursue this subject; and, indeed, we have 
+already dwelt upon it in the work we wrote against Faustus the 
+Manichean, who denies that there is anything prophesied of Christ in 
+the Hebrew books. It may be that one man’s exposition excels another’s, 
+and that ours is not the best; but all that is said must be referred to this 
+city of God we speak of, which sojourns in this wicked world as in a 
+deluge, at least if the expositor would not widely miss the meaning of 
+the author. For example, the interpretation I have given in the work 
+against Faustus, of the words, “with lower, second, and third storeys 
+shalt thou make it,” is, that because the church is gathered out of all 
+nations, it is said to have two storeys, to represent the two kinds of men 
+—the circumcision, to wit, and the uncircumcision, or, as the apostle 
+
+
+otherwise calls them, Jews and Gentiles; and to have three storeys, 
+because all the nations were replenished from the three sons of Noah. 
+Now any one may object to this interpretation, and may give another 
+which harmonizes with the rule of faith. For as the ark was to have 
+rooms not only on the lower, but also on the upper storeys, which were 
+called “third storeys,” that there might be a habitable space on the third 
+floor from the basement, some one may interpret these to mean the 
+three graces commended by the apostle—faith, hope, and charity. Or 
+even more suitably they may be supposed to represent those three 
+harvests in the gospel, thirtyfold, sixtyfold, an hundredfold—chaste 
+marriage dwelling in the ground floor, chaste widowhood in the upper, 
+and chaste virginity in the top storey. Or any better interpretation may 
+be given, so long as the reference to this city is maintained. And the 
+same statement I would make of all the remaining particulars in this 
+passage which require exposition, viz. that although different 
+explanations are given, yet they must all agree with the one harmonious 
+catholic faith. 
+
+
+27. Of the ark and the deluge, and that we cannot agree with those who receive the bare history, 
+but reject the allegorical interpretation, nor with those who maintain the figurative and not the 
+
+
+historical meaning 
+
+
+Yet no one ought to suppose either that these things were written for 
+no purpose, or that we should study only the historical truth, apart from 
+any allegorical meanings; or, on the contrary, that they are only 
+allegories, and that there were no such facts at all, or that, whether it be 
+so or no, there is here no prophecy of the church. For what right-minded 
+man will contend that books so religiously preserved during thousands 
+of years, and transmitted by so orderly a succession, were written 
+without an object, or that only the bare historical facts are to be 
+considered when we read them? For, not to mention other instances, if 
+the number of the animals entailed the construction of an ark of great 
+size, where was the necessity of sending into it two unclean and seven 
+clean animals of each species, when both could have been preserved in 
+equal numbers? Or could not God, who ordered them to be preserved in 
+order to replenish the race, restore them in the same way He had created 
+them? 
+
+But they who contend that these things never happened, but are only 
+
+
+figures setting forth other things, in the first place suppose that there 
+could not be a flood so great that the water should rise fifteen cubits 
+above the highest mountains, because it is said that clouds cannot rise 
+above the top of Mount Olympus, because it reaches the sky where there 
+is none of that thicker atmosphere in which winds, clouds, and rains 
+have their origin. They do not reflect that the densest element of all, 
+earth, can exist there; or perhaps they deny that the top of the mountain 
+is earth. Why, then, do these measurers and weighers of the elements 
+contend that earth can be raised to those aerial altitudes, and that water 
+cannot, while they admit that water is lighter, and liker to ascend than 
+earth? What reason do they adduce why earth, the heavier and lower 
+element, has for so many ages scaled to the tranquil ether, while water, 
+the lighter, and more likely to ascend, is not suffered to do the same 
+even for a brief space of time? 
+
+They say, too, that the area of that ark could not contain so many 
+kinds of animals of both sexes, two of the unclean and seven of the 
+clean. But they seem to me to reckon only one area of 300 cubits long 
+and 50 broad, and not to remember that there was another similar in the 
+storey above, and yet another as large in the storey above that again; 
+and that there was consequently an area of 900 cubits by 150. And if we 
+accept what Origen89 has with some appropriateness suggested, that 
+Moses the man of God, being, as it is written, “learned in all the wisdom 
+of the Egyptians,”99 who delighted in geometry, may have meant 
+geometrical cubits, of which they say that one is equal to six of our 
+cubits, then who does not see what a capacity these dimensions give to 
+the ark? For as to their objection that an ark of such size could not be 
+built, it is a very silly calumny; for they are aware that huge cities have 
+been built, and they should remember that the ark was an hundred years 
+in building. Or, perhaps, though stone can adhere to stone when 
+cemented with nothing but lime, so that a wall of several miles may be 
+constructed, yet plank cannot be riveted to plank by mortices, bolts, 
+nails, and pitch-glue, so as to construct an ark which was not made with 
+curved ribs but straight timbers, which was not to be launched by its 
+builders but to be lifted by the natural pressure of the water when it 
+reached it, and which was to be preserved from shipwreck as it floated 
+about rather by divine oversight than by human skill. 
+
+As to another customary inquiry of the scrupulous about the very 
+
+
+minute creatures, not only such as mice and lizards, but also locusts, 
+beetles, flies, fleas, and so forth, whether there were not in the ark a 
+larger number of them than was determined by God in His command, 
+those persons who are moved by this difficulty are to be reminded that 
+the words “every creeping thing of the earth” only indicate that it was 
+not needful to preserve in the ark the animals that can live in the water, 
+whether the fishes that live submerged in it, or the sea-birds that swim 
+on its surface. Then, when it is said “male and female,” no doubt 
+reference is made to the repairing of the races, and consequently there 
+was no need for those creatures being in the ark which are born without 
+the union of the sexes from inanimate things, or from their corruption; 
+or if they were in the ark, they might be there as they commonly are in 
+houses, not in any determinate numbers; or if it was necessary that there 
+should be a definite number of all those animals that cannot naturally 
+live in the water, that so the most sacred mystery which was being 
+enacted might be bodied forth and perfectly figured in actual realities, 
+still this was not the care of Noah or his sons, but of God. For Noah did 
+not catch the animals and put them into the ark, but gave them entrance 
+as they came seeking it. For this is the force of the words, “They shall 
+came unto thee,”?!—not, that is to say, by man’s effort, but by God’s 
+will. But certainly we are not required to believe that those which have 
+no sex also came; for it is expressly and definitely said, “They shall be 
+male and female.”9! For there are some animals which are born out of 
+corruption, but yet afterwards they themselves copulate and produce 
+offspring, as flies; but others, which have no sex, like bees. Then, as to 
+those animals which have sex, but without ability to propagate their 
+kind, like mules and she-mules, it is probable that they were not in the 
+ark, but that it was counted sufficient to preserve their parents, to wit, 
+the horse and the ass; and this applies to all hybrids. Yet, if it was 
+necessary for the completeness of the mystery, they were there; for even 
+this species has “male and female.” 
+
+Another question is commonly raised regarding the food of the 
+carnivorous animals—whether, without transgressing the command 
+which fixed the number to be preserved, there were necessarily others 
+included in the ark for their sustenance; or, as is more probable, there 
+might be some food which was not flesh, and which yet suited all. For 
+we know how many animals whose food is flesh eat also vegetable 
+
+
+products and fruits, especially figs and chestnuts. What wonder is it, 
+therefore, if that wise and just man was instructed by God what would 
+suit each, so that without flesh he prepared and stored provision fit for 
+every species? And what is there which hunger would not make animals 
+eat? Or what could not be made sweet and wholesome by God, who, 
+with a divine facility, might have enabled them to do without food at all, 
+had it not been requisite to the completeness of so great a mystery that 
+they should be fed? But none but a contentious man can suppose that 
+there was no prefiguring of the church in so manifold and circumstantial 
+a detail. For the nations have already so filled the church, and are 
+comprehended in the framework of its unity, the clean and unclean 
+together, until the appointed end, that this one very manifest fulfilment 
+leaves no doubt how we should interpret even those others which are 
+somewhat more obscure, and which cannot so readily be discerned. And 
+since this is so, if not even the most audacious will presume to assert 
+that these things were written without a purpose, or that though the 
+events really happened they mean nothing, or that they did not really 
+happen, but are only allegory, or that at all events they are far from 
+having any figurative reference to the church; if it has been made out 
+that, on the other hand, we must rather believe that there was a wise 
+purpose in their being committed to memory and to writing, and that 
+they did happen, and have a significance, and that this significance has a 
+prophetic reference to the church, then this book, having served this 
+purpose, may now be closed, that we may go on to trace in the history 
+subsequent to the deluge the courses of the two cities—the earthly, that 
+lives according to men, and the heavenly, that lives according to God. 
+
+
+11 Cor. xv. 46. 
+
+2 Rom. ix. 21. 
+
+3 Gen. iv. 17. 
+
+4 Comp. De Trin. xv. c. 15. 
+° Gal. iv. 21-31. 
+
+6 Rom. ix. 22, 23. 
+
+7 Wisdom viii. 1. 
+
+8 Lucan, Phar. i. 95. 
+
+
+9 Gal. v. 17. 
+
+
+10 Gal. vi. 2. 
+
+11 Thess. v. 14, 15. 
+
+12 Gal. vi. 1. 
+
+13 Eph. iv. 26. 
+
+14 Matt. xviii. 15. 
+
+15 1 Tim. v. 20. 
+
+16 Heb. xii. 14. 
+
+17 Matt. xviii. 35. 
+
+18 Rom. vi. 12, 13. 
+
+19 Gen. iv. 6, 7. 
+
+20 Literally, “division.” 
+
+21 1 John iii. 12. 
+
+22 We alter the pronoun to suit Augustine’s interpretation. 
+
+23 Gal. v. 17. 
+
+24 Rom. vii. 17. 
+
+25 Rom. vi. 13. 
+
+26 Gen. iii. 16. 
+
+27 Eph. v. 28, 29. 
+
+28 C, Faustum. Man. xii. c. 9. 
+
+29 Gen. iv. 17. 
+
+30 Gen. iv. 25. 
+
+31 Lamech, according to the LXX. 
+
+32 Fx. xii. 37. 
+
+33 Virgil, Æneid, xii. 899, 900. Compare the Iliad. v. 302, and Juvenal. xv. 65 et seqq. 
+“Terra malos homines nunc educat atque pusillos.” 
+
+34 Plin. Hist. Nat. vii. 16. 
+
+35 See the account given by Herodotus (i. 67) of the discovery of the bones of Orestes, which, as 
+the story goes, gave a stature of seven cubits. 
+
+36 Pliny, Hist. Nat. vii. 49, merely reports what he had read in Hellanicus about the Epirotes of 
+Etolia. 
+
+
+37 “Our own MSS.,” of which Augustine here speaks, were the Latin versions of the Septuagint 
+
+
+used by the Church before Jerome’s was received; the “Hebrew MSS.” were the versions made 
+
+
+from the Hebrew text. Compare De Doct. Christ. ii. 15 et seqq. 
+
+38 Jerome (De Quest. Heb. in Gen.) says it was a question famous in all the churches.—VIVES. 
+39 “Quos in auctoritatem celebriorum Ecclesia suscepit.” 
+
+40 See below, book xviii. c. 42-44. 
+
+41 ¢. 8. 
+
+
+42 On this subject see Wilkinson’s note to the second book (appendix) of Rawlinson’s Herodotus, 
+
+
+where all available references are given. 
+
+
+43 One hundred and eighty-seven is the number given in the Hebrew, and one hundred and sixty- 
+seven in the Septuagint; but notwithstanding the confusion, the argument of Augustine is easily 
+
+
+followed. 
+
+44 Gen. vii. 10, 11 (in our version the seventeenth day). 
+
+45 Gen. viii. 4, 5. 
+
+46 Ps. xc. 10. 
+
+47 Gen. iv. 1. 
+
+48 Gen. iv. 25. 
+
+49 Gen. v. 6. 
+
+50 Gen. v. 8. 
+
+51 Matt. i. 2. 
+
+52 His own children being the children of his sister, and therefore his nephews. 
+53 This was allowed by the Egyptians and Athenians, never by the Romans. 
+54 Both in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, though not uniformly, nor in Latin commonly. 
+55 Gen. V. 2. 
+
+56 Luke xx. 35, 36. 
+
+57 Gen. iv. 18-22. 
+
+58 Gen. iv. 26. 
+
+59 Rom. viii. 24, 25. 
+
+60 Rom. x. 13. 
+
+61 Jer, xvii. 5. 
+
+62 Æneid, i. 288. 
+
+63 Æneid, iii. 97. 
+
+64 Luke xx. 34. 
+
+
+65 Rom. ix. 5. 
+
+
+66 Eusebius, Jerome, Bede, and others, who follow the Septuagint, reckon only 2242 years, which 
+
+
+Vives explains by supposing Augustine to have made a copyist’s error. 
+67 Transgreditur. 
+
+68 Ps, li. 3. 
+
+69 Gen. v. 1. 
+
+70 Ps, xlix. 11. 
+
+71 Ps. lxxiii. 20. 
+
+72 Ps, lii. 8. 
+
+73 Ps, xl. 4. 
+
+74 Or, according to another reading, “Which I briefly said in these verses in praise of a taper.” 
+75 Cant. ii. 4. 
+
+76 See De Doct. Christ. i. 28. 
+
+77 Ps. civ. 4. 
+
+
+78 On these kinds of devils, see the note of Vives in loc., or Lecky’s Hist. of Rationalism, i. 26, who 
+quotes from Maury’s Histoire de la Magie that the Dusll were Celtic spirits, and are the origin of 
+
+
+our “Deuce.” 
+79 2 Pet. ii. 4. 
+80 Mark i. 2. 
+81 Mal. ii. 7. 
+
+
+82 Gen. vi. 1-4. Lactantius (Inst. ii. 15), Sulpicius Severus (Hist. i. 2), and others suppose from 
+this passage that angels had commerce with the daughters of men. See further references in the 
+
+
+Commentary of Pererius in loc. 
+
+
+83 Aquila lived in the time of Hadrian, to whom he is said to have been related. He was 
+excommunicated from the Church for the practice of astrology; and is best known by his 
+translation of the Hebrew Scriptures into Greek, which he executed with great care and accuracy, 
+though he has been charged with falsifying passages to support the Jews in their opposition to 
+Christianity. 
+
+
+84 Ps. lxxxii. 6. 
+
+85 Baruch iii. 26-28. 
+
+86 Lit.: “The Lord thought and reconsidered.” 
+87 Gen. vi. 5-7. 
+
+88 1 Tim. ii. 5. 
+
+
+89 In his second homily on Genesis. 
+
+
+90 Acts vii. 22. 
+91 Gen. vi. 19, 20. 
+91 Gen. vi. 19, 20. 
+
+
+BOOK SIXTEENTH 
+
+
+ARGUMENT 
+
+
+IN THE FORMER PART OF THIS BOOK, FROM THE FIRST TO THE TWELFTH CHAPTER, THE PROGRESS OF 
+THE TWO CITIES, THE EARTHLY AND THE HEAVENLY, FROM NOAH TO ABRAHAM, IS EXHIBITED FROM 
+HOLY SCRIPTURE IN THE LATTER PART, THE PROGRESS OF THE HEAVENLY ALONE, FROM ABRAHAM TO 
+
+
+THE KINGS OF ISRAEL, IS THE SUBJECT. 
+
+
+1. Whether, after the deluge, from Noah to Abraham, any families can be found who lived 
+according to God 
+
+
+L' is difficult to discover from Scripture, whether, after the deluge, 
+traces of the holy city are continuous, or are so interrupted by 
+intervening seasons of godlessness, that not a single worshipper of the 
+one true God was found among men; because from Noah, who, with his 
+wife, three sons, and as many daughters-in-law, achieved deliverance in 
+the ark from the destruction of the deluge, down to Abraham, we do not 
+find in the canonical books that the piety of any one is celebrated by 
+express divine testimony, unless it be in the case of Noah, who 
+commends with a prophetic benediction his two sons Shem and Japheth, 
+while he beheld and foresaw what was long afterwards to happen. It was 
+also by this prophetic spirit that, when his middle son—that is, the son 
+who was younger than the first and older than the last born—had sinned 
+against him, he cursed him not in his own person, but in his son’s (his 
+own grandson’s), in the words, “Cursed be the lad Canaan; a servant 
+shall he be unto his brethren.”! Now Canaan was born of Ham, who, so 
+far from covering his sleeping father’s nakedness, had divulged it. For 
+the same reason also he subjoins the blessing on his two other sons, the 
+oldest and youngest, saying, “Blessed be the Lord God of Shem; and 
+Canaan shall be his servant. God shall gladden Japheth, and he shall 
+dwell in the houses of Shem.”2 And so, too, the planting of the vine by 
+Noah, and his intoxication by its fruit, and his nakedness while he slept, 
+and the other things done at that time, and recorded, are all of them 
+
+
+pregnant with prophetic meanings, and veiled in mysteries. 
+
+
+2. What was prophetically prefigured in the sons of Noah 
+
+
+The things which then were hidden are now sufficiently revealed by 
+the actual events which have followed. For who can carefully and 
+intelligently consider these things without recognising them 
+accomplished in Christ? Shem, of whom Christ was born in the flesh, 
+means “named.” And what is of greater name than Christ, the fragrance 
+of whose name is now everywhere perceived, so that even prophecy 
+sings of it beforehand, comparing it in the Song of Songs‘ to ointment 
+poured forth? Is it not also in the houses of Christ, that is, in the 
+churches, that the “enlargement” of the nations dwells? For Japheth 
+means “enlargement.” And Ham (ie. hot), who was the middle son of 
+Noah, and, as it were, separated himself from both, and remained 
+between them, neither belonging to the first-fruits of Israel nor to the 
+fulness of the Gentiles, what does he signify but the tribe of heretics, hot 
+with the spirit, not of patience, but of impatience, with which the breasts 
+of heretics are wont to blaze, and with which they disturb the peace of 
+the saints? But even the heretics yield an advantage to those that make 
+proficiency, according to the apostle’s saying, “There must also be 
+heresies, that they which are approved may be made manifest among 
+you.”° Whence, too, it is elsewhere said, “The son that receives 
+instruction will be wise, and he uses the foolish as his servant.”© For 
+while the hot restlessness of heretics stirs questions about many articles 
+of the catholic faith, the necessity of defending them forces us both to 
+investigate them more accurately, to understand them more clearly, and 
+to proclaim them more earnestly; and the question mooted by an 
+adversary becomes the occasion of instruction. However, not only those 
+who are openly separated from the church, but also all who glory in the 
+Christian name, and at the same time lead abandoned lives, may without 
+absurdity seem to be figured by Noah’s middle son: for the passion of 
+Christ, which was signified by that man’s nakedness, is at once 
+proclaimed by their profession, and dishonoured by their wicked 
+conduct. Of such, therefore, it has been said, “By their fruits ye shall 
+know them.”” And therefore was Ham cursed in his son, he being, as it 
+were, his fruit. So, too, this son of his, Canaan, is fitly interpreted “their 
+movement,” which is nothing else than their work. But Shem and 
+
+
+Japheth, that is to say, the circumcision and uncircumcision, or, as the 
+apostle otherwise calls them, the Jews and Greeks, but called and 
+justified, having somehow discovered the nakedness of their father 
+(which signifies the Saviour’s passion), took a garment and laid it upon 
+their backs, and entered backwards and covered their father’s nakedness, 
+without their seeing what their reverence hid. For we both honour the 
+passion of Christ as accomplished for us, and we hate the crime of the 
+Jews who crucified Him. The garment signifies the sacrament, their 
+backs the memory of things past: for the church celebrates the passion of 
+Christ as already accomplished, and no longer to be looked forward to, 
+now that Japheth already dwells in the habitations of Shem, and their 
+wicked brother between them. 
+
+But the wicked brother is, in the person of his son (i.e. his work), the 
+boy, or slave, of his good brothers, when good men make a skilful use of 
+bad men, either for the exercise of their patience or for their 
+advancement in wisdom. For the apostle testifies that there are some 
+who preach Christ from no pure motives; “but,” says he, “whether in 
+pretence or in truth, Christ is preached; and I therein do rejoice, yea, and 
+will rejoice.”8 For it is Christ Himself who planted the vine of which the 
+prophet says, “The vine of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel;”9 and 
+He drinks of its wine, whether we thus understand that cup of which He 
+says, “Can ye drink of the cup that I shall drink of?”!° and, “Father, if it 
+be possible, let this cup pass from me,”!! by which He obviously means 
+His passion. Or, as wine is the fruit of the vine, we may prefer to 
+understand that from this vine, that is to say, from the race of Israel, He 
+has assumed flesh and blood that He might suffer; “and he was 
+drunken,” that is, He suffered; “and was naked,” that is, His weakness 
+appeared in His suffering, as the apostle says, “though He was crucified 
+through weakness.”!2 Wherefore the same apostle says, “The weakness 
+of God is stronger than men; and the foolishness of God is wiser than 
+men.”!3 And when to the expression “he was naked” Scripture adds “in 
+his house,” it elegantly intimates that Jesus was to suffer the cross and 
+death at the hands of His own household, His own kith and kin, the 
+Jews. This passion of Christ is only externally and verbally professed by 
+the reprobate, for what they profess they do not understand. But the 
+elect hold in the inner man this so great mystery, and honour inwardly 
+in the heart this weakness and foolishness of God. And of this there is a 
+
+
+figure in Ham going out to proclaim his father’s nakedness; while Shem 
+and Japheth, to cover or honour it, went in, that is to say, did it 
+inwardly. 
+
+These secrets of divine Scripture we investigate as well as we can. All 
+will not accept our interpretation with equal confidence, but all hold it 
+certain that these things were neither done nor recorded without some 
+foreshadowing of future events, and that they are to be referred only to 
+Christ and His church, which is the city of God, proclaimed from the 
+very beginning of human history by figures which we now see 
+everywhere accomplished. From the blessing of the two sons of Noah, 
+and the cursing of the middle son, down to Abraham, or for more than a 
+thousand years, there is, as I have said, no mention of any righteous 
+persons who worshipped God. I do not therefore conclude that there 
+were none; but it had been tedious to mention every one, and would 
+have displayed historical accuracy rather than prophetic foresight. The 
+object of the writer of these sacred books, or rather of the Spirit of God 
+in him, is not only to record the past, but to depict the future, so far as it 
+regards the city of God; for whatever is said of those who are not its 
+citizens, is given either for her instruction, or as a foil to enhance her 
+glory. Yet we are not to suppose that all that is recorded has some 
+signification; but those things which have no signification of their own 
+are interwoven for the sake of the things which are significant. It is only 
+the ploughshare that cleaves the soil; but to effect this, other parts of the 
+plough are requisite. It is only the strings in harps and other musical 
+instruments which produce melodious sounds; but that they may do so, 
+there are other parts of the instrument which are not indeed struck by 
+those who sing, but are connected with the strings which are struck, and 
+produce musical notes. So in this prophetic history some things are 
+narrated which have no significance, but are, as it were, the framework 
+to which the significant things are attached. 
+
+
+3. Of the generations of the three sons of Noah 
+
+
+We must therefore introduce into this work an explanation of the 
+generations of the three sons of Noah, in so far as that may illustrate the 
+progress in time of the two cities. Scripture first mentions that of the 
+youngest son, who is called Japheth: he had eight sons,!+ and by two of 
+these sons seven grandchildren, three by one son, four by the other; in 
+
+
+all, fifteen descendants. Ham, Noah’s middle son, had four sons, and by 
+one of them five grandsons, and by one of these two great-grandsons; in 
+all, eleven. After enumerating these, Scripture returns to the first of the 
+sons, and says, “Cush begat Nimrod; he began to be a giant on the earth. 
+He was a giant hunter against the Lord God: wherefore they say, As 
+Nimrod the giant hunter against the Lord. And the beginning of his 
+kingdom was Babylon, Erech, Accad, and Calneh, in the land of Shinar. 
+Out of that land went forth Assur, and built Nineveh, and the city 
+Rehoboth, and Calah, and Resen between Nineveh and Calah: this was a 
+great city.” Now this Cush, father of the giant Nimrod, is the first-named 
+among the sons of Ham, to whom five sons and two grandsons are 
+ascribed. But he either begat this giant after his grandsons were born, or, 
+which is more credible, Scripture speaks of him separately on account of 
+his eminence; for mention is also made of his kingdom, which began 
+with that magnificent city Babylon, and the other places, whether cities 
+or districts, mentioned along with it. But what is recorded of the land of 
+Shinar which belonged to Nimrod’s kingdom, to wit, that Assur went 
+forth from it and built Nineveh and the other cities mentioned with it, 
+happened long after; but he takes occasion to speak of it here on account 
+of the grandeur of the Assyrian kingdom, which was wonderfully 
+extended by Ninus son of Belus, and founder of the great city Nineveh, 
+which was named after him, Nineveh, from Ninus. But Assur, father of 
+the Assyrian, was not one of the sons of Ham, Noah’s middle son, but is 
+found among the sons of Shem, his eldest son. Whence it appears that 
+among Shem’s offspring there arose men who afterwards took possession 
+of that giant’s kingdom, and advancing from it, founded other cities, the 
+first of which was called Nineveh, from Ninus. From him Scripture 
+returns to Ham’s other son, Mizraim; and his sons are enumerated, not as 
+seven individuals, but as seven nations. And from the sixth, as if from 
+the sixth son, the race called the Philistines are said to have sprung; so 
+that there are in all eight. Then it returns again to Canaan, in whose 
+person Ham was cursed; and his eleven sons are named. Then the 
+territories they occupied, and some of the cities, are named. And thus, if 
+we count sons and grandsons, there are thirty-one of Ham’s descendants 
+registered. 
+
+It remains to mention the sons of Shem, Noah’s eldest son; for to him 
+this genealogical narrative gradually ascends from the youngest. But in 
+
+
+the commencement of the record of Shem’s sons there is an obscurity 
+which calls for explanation, since it is closely connected with the object 
+of our investigation. For we read, “Unto Shem also, the father of all the 
+children of Heber, the brother of Japheth the elder, were children 
+born.”!5 This is the order of the words: And to Shem was born Heber, 
+even to himself, that is, to Shem himself was born Heber, and Shem is 
+the father of all his children. We are intended to understand that Shem is 
+the patriarch of all his posterity who were to be mentioned, whether 
+sons, grandsons, great-grandsons, or descendants at any remove. For 
+Shem did not beget Heber, who was indeed in the fifth generation from 
+him. For Shem begat, among other sons, Arphaxad; Arphaxad begat 
+Cainan, Cainan begat Salah, Salah begat Heber. And it was with good 
+reason that he was named first among Shem’s offspring, taking 
+precedence even of his sons, though only a grandchild of the fifth 
+generation; for from him, as tradition says, the Hebrews derived their 
+name, though the other etymology which derives the name from 
+Abraham (as if Abrahews) may possibly be correct. But there can be little 
+doubt that the former is the right etymology, and that they were called 
+after Heber, Heberews, and then, dropping a letter, Hebrews; and so was 
+their language called Hebrew, which was spoken by none but the people 
+of Israel among whom was the city of God, mysteriously prefigured in all 
+the people, and truly present in the saints. Six of Shem’s sons then are 
+first named, then four grandsons born to one of these sons; then it 
+mentions another son of Shem, who begat a grandson; and his son, 
+again, or Shem’s great-grandson, was Heber. And Heber begat two sons, 
+and called the one Peleg, which means “dividing;” and Scripture subjoins 
+the reason of this name, saying, “for in his days was the earth divided.” 
+What this means will afterwards appear. Heber’s other son begat twelve 
+sons; consequently all Shem’s descendants are twenty-seven. The total 
+number of the progeny of the three sons of Noah is seventy-three, fifteen 
+by Japheth, thirty-one by Ham, twenty-seven by Shem. Then Scripture 
+adds, “These are the sons of Shem, after their families, after their 
+tongues, in their lands, after their nations.” And so of the whole number: 
+“These are the families of the sons of Noah after their generations, in 
+their nations; and by these were the isles of the nations dispersed 
+through the earth after the flood.” From which we gather that the 
+seventy-three (or rather, as I shall presently show, seventy-two) were not 
+
+
+individuals, but nations. For in a former passage, when the sons of 
+Japheth were enumerated, it is said in conclusion, “By these were the 
+isles of the nations divided in their lands, every one after his language, 
+in their tribes, and in their nations.” 
+
+But nations are expressly mentioned among the sons of Ham, as I 
+showed above. “Mizraim begat those who are called Ludim;” and so also 
+of the other seven nations. And after enumerating all of them, it 
+concludes, “These are the sons of Ham, in their families, according to 
+their languages, in their territories, and in their nations.” The reason, 
+then, why the children of several of them are not mentioned, is that they 
+belonged by birth to other nations, and did not themselves become 
+nations. Why else is it, that though eight sons are reckoned to Japheth, 
+the sons of only two of these are mentioned; and though four are 
+reckoned to Ham, only three are spoken of as having sons; and though 
+six are reckoned to Shem, the descendants of only two of these are 
+traced? Did the rest remain childless? We cannot suppose so; but they 
+did not produce nations so great as to warrant their being mentioned, 
+but were absorbed in the nations to which they belonged by birth. 
+
+
+4. Of the diversity of languages, and of the founding of Babylon 
+
+
+But though these nations are said to have been dispersed according to 
+their languages, yet the narrator recurs to that time when all had but 
+one language, and explains how it came to pass that a diversity of 
+languages was introduced. “The whole earth,” he says, “was of one lip, 
+and all had one speech. And it came to pass, as they journeyed from the 
+east, that they found a plain in the land of Shinar, and dwelt there. And 
+they said one to another, Come, and let us make bricks, and burn them 
+thoroughly. And they had bricks for stone, and slime for mortar. And 
+they said, Come, and let us build for ourselves a city, and a tower whose 
+top shall reach the sky; and let us make us a name, before we be 
+scattered abroad on the face of all the earth. And the Lord came down to 
+see the city and the tower, which the children of men builded. And the 
+Lord God said, Behold, the people is one, and they have all one 
+language; and this they begin to do: and now nothing will be restrained 
+from them, which they have imagined to do. Come, and let us go down, 
+and confound there their language, that they may not understand one 
+another’s speech. And God scattered them thence on the face of all the 
+
+
+earth: and they left off to build the city and the tower. Therefore the 
+name of it is called Confusion; because the Lord did there confound the 
+language of all the earth: and the Lord God scattered them thence on the 
+face of all the earth.”!© This city, which was called Confusion, is the 
+same as Babylon, whose wonderful construction Gentile history also 
+notices. For Babylon means Confusion. Whence we conclude that the 
+giant Nimrod was its founder, as had been hinted a little before, where 
+Scripture, in speaking of him, says that the beginning of his kingdom 
+was Babylon, that is, Babylon had a supremacy over the other cities as 
+the metropolis and royal residence; although it did not rise to the grand 
+dimensions designed by its proud and impious founder. The plan was to 
+make it so high that it should reach the sky, whether this was meant of 
+one tower which they intended to build higher than the others, or of all 
+the towers, which might be signified by the singular number, as we 
+speak of “the soldier,” meaning the army, and of the frog or the locust, 
+when we refer to the whole multitude of frogs and locusts in the plagues 
+with which Moses smote the Egyptians.!7 But what did these vain and 
+presumptuous men intend? How did they expect to raise this lofty mass 
+against God, when they had built it above all the mountains and the 
+clouds of the earth’s atmosphere? What injury could any spiritual or 
+material elevation do to God? The safe and true way to heaven is made 
+by humility, which lifts up the heart to the Lord, not against Him; as this 
+giant is said to have been a “hunter against the Lord.” This has been 
+misunderstood by some through the ambiguity of the Greek word, and 
+they have translated it, not “against the Lord,” but “before the Lord;” for 
+tvavtioy Means both “before” and “against.” In the Psalm this word is 
+rendered, “Let us weep before the Lord our Maker.”!8 The same word 
+occurs in the book of Job, where it is written, “Thou hast broken into 
+fury against the Lord.”!9 And so this giant is to be recognised as a 
+“hunter against the Lord.” And what is meant by the term “hunter” but 
+deceiver, oppressor, and destroyer of the animals of the earth? He and 
+his people, therefore, erected this tower against the Lord, and so gave 
+expression to their impious pride; and justly was their wicked intention 
+punished by God, even though it was unsuccessful. But what was the 
+nature of the punishment? As the tongue is the instrument of 
+domination, in it pride was punished; so that man, who would not 
+understand God when He issued His commands, should be 
+
+
+misunderstood when he himself gave orders. Thus was that conspiracy 
+disbanded, for each man retired from those he could not understand, and 
+associated with those whose speech was intelligible; and the nations 
+were divided according to their languages, and scattered over the earth 
+as seemed good to God, who accomplished this in ways hidden from and 
+incomprehensible to us. 
+
+
+5. Of God’s coming down to confound the languages of the builders of the city 
+
+
+We read, “The Lord came down to see the city and the tower which 
+the sons of men built:” it was not the sons of God, but that society which 
+lived in a merely human way, and which we call the earthly city. God, 
+who is always wholly everywhere, does not move locally; but He is said 
+to descend when He does anything in the earth out of the usual course, 
+which, as it were, makes His presence felt. And in the same way, He 
+does not by “seeing” learn some new thing, for He cannot ever be 
+ignorant of anything; but He is said to see and recognise, in time, that 
+which He causes others to see and recognise. And therefore that city was 
+not previously being seen as God made it be seen when He showed how 
+offensive it was to Him. We might, indeed, interpret God’s descending to 
+the city of the descent of His angels in whom He dwells; so that the 
+following words, “And the Lord God said, Behold, they are all one race 
+and of one language,” and also what follows, “Come, and let us go down 
+and confound their speech,” are a recapitulation, explaining how the 
+previously intimated “descent of the Lord” was accomplished. For if He 
+had already gone down, why does He say, “Come, and let us go down 
+and confound?”—words which seem to be addressed to the angels, and 
+to intimate that He who was in the angels descended in their descent. 
+And the words most appropriately are, not, “Go ye down and confound,” 
+but, “Let us confound their speech;” showing that He so works by His 
+servants, that they are themselves also fellow-labourers with God, as the 
+apostle says, “For we are fellow-labourers with God.”20 
+
+
+6. What we are to understand by God’s speaking to the angels 
+
+
+We might have supposed that the words uttered at the creation of 
+man, “Let us,” and not Let me, “make man,” were addressed to the 
+angels, had He not added “in our image;” but as we cannot believe that 
+man was made in the image of angels, or that the image of God is the 
+
+
+same as that of angels, it is proper to refer this expression to the 
+plurality of the Trinity. And yet this Trinity, being one God, even after 
+saying “Let us make,” goes on to say, “And God made man in His 
+image,”2! and not “Gods made,” or “in their image.” And were there any 
+difficulty in applying to the angels the words, “Come, and let us go down 
+and confound their speech,” we might refer the plural to the Trinity, as 
+if the Father were addressing the Son and the Holy Spirit; but it rather 
+belongs to the angels to approach God by holy movements, that is, by 
+pious thoughts, and thereby to avail themselves of the unchangeable 
+truth which rules in the court of heaven as their eternal law. For they 
+are not themselves the truth; but partaking in the creative truth, they are 
+moved towards it as the fountain of life, that what they have not in 
+themselves they may obtain in it. And this movement of theirs is steady, 
+for they never go back from what they have reached. And to these angels 
+God does not speak, as we speak to one another, or to God, or to angels, 
+or as the angels speak to us, or as God speaks to us through them: He 
+speaks to them in an ineffable manner of His own, and that which He 
+says is conveyed to us in a manner suited to our capacity. For the 
+speaking of God antecedent and superior to all His works, is the 
+immutable reason of His work: it has no noisy and passing sound, but an 
+energy eternally abiding and producing results in time. Thus He speaks 
+to the holy angels; but to us, who are far off, He speaks otherwise. 
+When, however, we hear with the inner ear some part of the speech of 
+God, we approximate to the angels. But in this work I need not labour to 
+give an account of the ways in which God speaks. For either the 
+unchangeable Truth speaks directly to the mind of the rational creature 
+in some indescribable way, or speaks through the changeable creature, 
+either presenting spiritual images to our spirit, or bodily voices to our 
+bodily sense. 
+
+The words, “Nothing will be restrained from them which they have 
+imagined to do,”22 are assuredly not meant as an affirmation, but as an 
+interrogation, such as is used by persons threatening, as, e.g., when Dido 
+exclaims, 
+
+
+“They will not take arms and pursue?”23 
+
+
+We are to understand the words as if it had been said, Shall nothing be 
+
+
+restrained from them which they have imagined to do?24 From these 
+three men, therefore, the three sons of Noah we mean, 73, or rather, as 
+the catalogue will show, 72 nations and as many languages were 
+dispersed over the earth, and as they increased filled even the islands. 
+But the nations multiplied much more than the languages. For even in 
+Africa we know several barbarous nations which have but one language; 
+and who can doubt that, as the human race increased, men contrived to 
+pass to the islands in ships? 
+
+
+7. Whether even the remotest islands received their FAUNA from the animals which were 
+
+
+preserved, through the deluge, in the ark 
+
+
+There is a question raised about all those kinds of beasts which are not 
+domesticated, nor are produced like frogs from the earth, but are 
+propagated by male and female parents, such as wolves and animals of 
+that kind; and it is asked how they could be found in the islands after 
+the deluge, in which all the animals not in the ark perished, unless the 
+breed was restored from those which were preserved in pairs in the ark. 
+It might, indeed, be said that they crossed to the islands by swimming, 
+but this could only be true of those very near the mainland; whereas 
+there are some so distant, that we fancy no animal could swim to them. 
+But if men caught them and took them across with themselves, and thus 
+propagated these breeds in their new abodes, this would not imply an 
+incredible fondness for the chase. At the same time, it cannot be denied 
+that by the intervention of angels they might be transferred by God’s 
+order or permission. If, however, they were produced out of the earth as 
+at their first creation, when God said, “Let the earth bring forth the 
+living creature,”25 this makes it more evident that all kinds of animals 
+were preserved in the ark, not so much for the sake of renewing the 
+stock, as of prefiguring the various nations which were to be saved in 
+the church; this, I say, is more evident, if the earth brought forth many 
+animals in islands to which they could not cross over. 
+
+
+8. Whether certain monstrous races of men are derived from the stock of Adam or Noah’s sons 
+
+
+It is also asked whether we are to believe that certain monstrous races 
+of men, spoken of in secular history,2© have sprung from Noah’s sons, or 
+rather, I should say, from that one man from whom they themselves 
+were descended. For it is reported that some have one eye in the middle 
+
+
+of the forehead; some, feet turned backwards from the heel; some, a 
+double sex, the right breast like a man, the left like a woman, and that 
+they alternately beget and bring forth: others are said to have no mouth, 
+and to breathe only through the nostrils; others are but a cubit high, and 
+are therefore called by the Greeks “Pigmies:”27 they say that in some 
+places the women conceive in their fifth year, and do not live beyond 
+their eighth. So, too, they tell of a race who have two feet but only one 
+leg, and are of marvellous swiftness, though they do not bend the knee: 
+they are called Skiopodes, because in the hot weather they lie down on 
+their backs and shade themselves with their feet. Others are said to have 
+no head, and their eyes in their shoulders; and other human or quasi- 
+human races are depicted in mosaic in the harbour esplanade of 
+Carthage, on the faith of histories of rarities. What shall I say of the 
+Cynocephali, whose dog-like head and barking proclaim them beasts 
+rather than men? But we are not bound to believe all we hear of these 
+monstrosities. But whoever is anywhere born a man, that is, a rational 
+mortal animal, no matter what unusual appearance he presents in 
+colour, movement, sound, nor how peculiar he is in some power, part, or 
+quality of his nature, no Christian can doubt that he springs from that 
+one protoplast. We can distinguish the common human nature from that 
+which is peculiar, and therefore wonderful. 
+
+The same account which is given of monstrous births in individual 
+cases can be given of monstrous races. For God, the Creator of all, knows 
+where and when each thing ought to be, or to have been created, 
+because He sees the similarities and diversities which can contribute to 
+the beauty of the whole. But He who cannot see the whole is offended by 
+the deformity of the part, because he is blind to that which balances it, 
+and to which it belongs. We know that men are born with more than 
+four fingers on their hands or toes on their feet: this is a smaller matter; 
+but far from us be the folly of supposing that the Creator mistook the 
+number of a man’s fingers, though we cannot account for the difference. 
+And so in cases where the divergence from the rule is greater. He whose 
+works no man justly finds fault with, knows what He has done. At 
+Hippo-Diarrhytus there is a man whose hands are crescent-shaped, and 
+have only two fingers each, and his feet similarly formed. If there were a 
+race like him, it would be added to the history of the curious and 
+wonderful. Shall we therefore deny that this man is descended from that 
+
+
+one man who was first created? As for the Androgyni, or 
+Hermaphrodites, as they are called, though they are rare, yet from time 
+to time there appear persons of sex so doubtful, that it remains uncertain 
+from which sex they take their name; though it is customary to give 
+them a masculine name, as the more worthy. For no one ever called 
+them Hermaphroditesses. Some years ago, quite within my own 
+memory, a man was born in the East, double in his upper, but single in 
+his lower half—having two heads, two chests, four hands, but one body 
+and two feet like an ordinary man; and he lived so long that many had 
+an opportunity of seeing him. But who could enumerate all the human 
+births that have differed widely from their ascertained parents? As, 
+therefore, no one will deny that these are all descended from that one 
+man, so all the races which are reported to have diverged in bodily 
+appearance from the usual course which nature generally or almost 
+universally preserves, if they are embraced in that definition of man as 
+rational and mortal animals, unquestionably trace their pedigree to that 
+one first father of all. We are supposing these stories about various races 
+who differ from one another and from us to be true; but possibly they 
+are not; for if we were not aware that apes, and monkeys, and sphinxes 
+are not men, but beasts, those historians would possibly describe them 
+as races of men, and flaunt with impunity their false and vainglorious 
+discoveries. But supposing they are men of whom these marvels are 
+recorded, what if God has seen fit to create some races in this way, that 
+we might not suppose that the monstrous births which appear among 
+ourselves are the failures of that wisdom whereby He fashions the 
+human nature, as we speak of the failure of a less perfect workman? 
+Accordingly, it ought not to seem absurd to us, that as in individual 
+races there are monstrous births, so in the whole race there are 
+monstrous races. Wherefore, to conclude this question cautiously and 
+guardedly, either these things which have been told of some races have 
+no existence at all; or if they do exist, they are not human races; or if 
+they are human, they are descended from Adam. 
+
+
+9. Whether we are to believe in the Antipodes 
+
+
+But as to the fable that there are Antipodes, that is to say, men on the 
+opposite side of the earth, where the sun rises when it sets to us, men 
+
+
+who walk with their feet opposite ours, that is on no ground credible. 
+And, indeed, it is not affirmed that this has been learned by historical 
+knowledge, but by scientific conjecture, on the ground that the earth is 
+suspended within the concavity of the sky, and that it has as much room 
+on the one side of it as on the other: hence they say that the part which 
+is beneath must also be inhabited. But they do not remark that, although 
+it be supposed or scientifically demonstrated that the world is of a round 
+and spherical form, yet it does not follow that the other side of the earth 
+is bare of water; nor even, though it be bare, does it immediately follow 
+that it is peopled. For Scripture, which proves the truth of its historical 
+statements by the accomplishment of its prophecies, gives no false 
+information; and it is too absurd to say that some men might have taken 
+ship and traversed the whole wide ocean, and crossed from this side of 
+the world to the other, and that thus even the inhabitants of that distant 
+region are descended from that one first man. Wherefore let us seek if 
+we can find the city of God that sojourns on earth among those human 
+races who are catalogued as having been divided into seventy-two 
+nations and as many languages. For it continued down to the deluge and 
+the ark, and is proved to have existed still among the sons of Noah by 
+their blessings, and chiefly in the eldest son Shem; for Japheth received 
+this blessing, that he should dwell in the tents of Shem. 
+
+
+10. Of the genealogy of Shem, in whose line the city of God is preserved till the time of Abraham 
+
+
+It is necessary, therefore, to preserve the series of generations 
+descending from Shem, for the sake of exhibiting the city of God after 
+the flood; as before the flood it was exhibited in the series of generations 
+descending from Seth. And therefore does divine Scripture, after 
+exhibiting the earthly city as Babylon or “Confusion,” revert to the 
+patriarch Shem, and recapitulate the generations from him to Abraham, 
+specifying besides, the year in which each father begat the son that 
+belonged to this line, and how long he lived. And unquestionably it is 
+this which fulfils the promise I made, that it should appear why it is said 
+of the sons of Heber, “The name of the one was Peleg, for in his days the 
+earth was divided.”28 For what can we understand by the division of the 
+earth, if not the diversity of languages? And, therefore, omitting the 
+other sons of Shem, who are not concerned in this matter, Scripture 
+gives the genealogy of those by whom the line runs on to Abraham, as 
+
+
+before the flood those are given who carried on the line to Noah from 
+Seth. Accordingly this series of generations begins thus: “These are the 
+generations of Shem: Shem was an hundred years old, and begat 
+Arphaxad two years after the flood. And Shem lived after he begat 
+Arphaxad five hundred years, and begat sons and daughters.” In like 
+manner it registers the rest, naming the year of his life in which each 
+begat the son who belonged to that line which extends to Abraham. It 
+specifies, too, how many years he lived thereafter, begetting sons and 
+daughters, that we may not childishly suppose that the men named were 
+the only men, but may understand how the population increased, and 
+how regions and kingdoms so vast could be populated by the 
+descendants of Shem; especially the kingdom of Assyria, from which 
+Ninus subdued the surrounding nations, reigning with brilliant 
+prosperity, and bequeathing to his descendants a vast but thoroughly 
+consolidated empire, which held together for many centuries. 
+
+But to avoid needless prolixity, we shall mention not the number of 
+years each member of this series lived, but only the year of his life in 
+which he begat his heir, that we may thus reckon the number of years 
+from the flood to Abraham, and may at the same time leave room to 
+touch briefly and cursorily upon some other matters necessary to our 
+argument. In the second year, then, after the flood, Shem when he was a 
+hundred years old begat Arphaxad; Arphaxad when he was 135 years 
+old begat Cainan; Cainan when he was 130 years begat Salah. Salah 
+himself, too, was the same age when he begat Eber. Eber lived 134 
+years, and begat Peleg, in whose days the earth was divided. Peleg 
+himself lived 130 years, and begat Reu; and Reu lived 132 years, and 
+begat Serug; Serug 130, and begat Nahor; and Nahor 79, and begat 
+Terah; and Terah 70, and begat Abram, whose name God afterwards 
+changed into Abraham. There are thus from the flood to Abraham 1072 
+years, according to the Vulgate or Septuagint versions. In the Hebrew 
+copies far fewer years are given; and for this either no reason or a not 
+very credible one is given. 
+
+When, therefore, we look for the city of God in these seventy-two 
+nations, we cannot affirm that while they had but one lip, that is, one 
+language, the human race had departed from the worship of the true 
+God, and that genuine godliness had survived only in those generations 
+which descend from Shem through Arphaxad and reach to Abraham; but 
+
+
+from the time when they proudly built a tower to heaven, a symbol of 
+godless exaltation, the city or society of the wicked becomes apparent. 
+Whether it was only disguised before, or non-existent; whether both 
+cities remained after the flood—the godly in the two sons of Noah who 
+were blessed, and in their posterity, and the ungodly in the cursed son 
+and his descendants, from whom sprang that mighty hunter against the 
+Lord—is not easily determined. For possibly—and certainly this is more 
+credible—there were despisers of God among the descendants of the two 
+sons, even before Babylon was founded, and worshippers of God among 
+the descendants of Ham. Certainly neither race was ever obliterated 
+from earth. For in both the Psalms in which it is said, “They are all gone 
+aside, they are altogether become filthy; there is none that doeth good, 
+no, not one,” we read further, “Have all the workers of iniquity no 
+knowledge? who eat up my people as they eat bread, and call not upon 
+the Lord.”29 There was then a people of God even at that time. And 
+therefore the words, “There is none that doeth good, no, not one,” were 
+said of the sons of men, not of the sons of God. For it had been 
+previously said, “God looked down from heaven upon the sons of men, 
+to see if any understood and sought after God;” and then follow the 
+words which demonstrate that all the sons of men, that is, all who 
+belong to the city which lives according to man, not according to God, 
+are reprobate. 
+
+
+11. That the original language in use among men was that which was afterwards called Hebrew, 
+
+
+from Heber, in whose family it was preserved when the confusion of tongues occurred 
+
+
+Wherefore, as the fact of all using one language did not secure the 
+absence of sin-infected men from the race—for even before the deluge 
+there was one language, and yet all but the single family of just Noah 
+were found worthy of destruction by the flood—so when the nations, by 
+a prouder godlessness, earned the punishment of the dispersion and the 
+confusion of tongues, and the city of the godless was called Confusion or 
+Babylon, there was still the house of Heber in which the primitive 
+language of the race survived. And therefore, as I have already 
+mentioned, when an enumeration is made of the sons of Shem, who each 
+founded a nation, Heber is first mentioned, although he was of the fifth 
+generation from Shem. And because, when the other races were divided 
+by their own peculiar languages, his family preserved that language 
+
+
+which is not unreasonably believed to have been the common language 
+of the race, it was on this account thenceforth named Hebrew. For it 
+then became necessary to distinguish this language from the rest by a 
+proper name; though, while there was only one, it had no other name 
+than the language of man, or human speech, it alone being spoken by 
+the whole human race. Some one will say: If the earth was divided by 
+languages in the days of Peleg, Heber’s son, that language, which was 
+formerly common to all, should rather have been called after Peleg. But 
+we are to understand that Heber himself gave to his son the name Peleg, 
+which means Division; because he was born when the earth was divided, 
+that is, at the very time of the division, and that this is the meaning of 
+the words, “In his days the earth was divided.”3° For unless Heber had 
+been still alive when the languages were multiplied, the language which 
+was preserved in his house would not have been called after him. We are 
+induced to believe that this was the primitive and common language, 
+because the multiplication and change of languages was introduced as a 
+punishment, and it is fit to ascribe to the people of God an immunity 
+from this punishment. Nor is it without significance that this is the 
+language which Abraham retained, and that he could not transmit it to 
+all his descendants, but only to those of Jacob’s line, who distinctively 
+and eminently constituted God’s people, and received His covenants, and 
+were Christ’s progenitors according to the flesh. In the same way, Heber 
+himself did not transmit that language to all his posterity, but only to the 
+line from which Abraham sprang. And thus, although it is not expressly 
+stated, that when the wicked were building Babylon there was a godly 
+seed remaining, this indistinctness is intended to stimulate research 
+rather than to elude it. For when we see that originally there was one 
+common language, and that Heber is mentioned before all Shem’s sons, 
+though he belonged to the fifth generation from him, and that the 
+language which the patriarchs and prophets used, not only in their 
+conversation, but in the authoritative language of Scripture, is called 
+Hebrew, when we are asked where that primitive and common language 
+was preserved after the confusion of tongues, certainly, as there can be 
+no doubt that those among whom it was preserved were exempt from 
+the punishment it embodied, what other suggestion can we make, than 
+that it survived in the family of him whose name it took, and that this is 
+no small proof of the righteousness of this family, that the punishment 
+
+
+with which the other families were visited did not fall upon it? 
+
+But yet another question is mooted: How did Heber and his son Peleg 
+each found a nation, if they had but one language? For no doubt the 
+Hebrew nation propagated from Heber through Abraham, and becoming 
+through him a great people, is one nation. How, then, are all the sons of 
+the three branches of Noah’s family enumerated as founding a nation 
+each, if Heber and Peleg did not so? It is very probable that the giant 
+Nimrod founded also his nation, and that Scripture has named him 
+separately on account of the extraordinary dimensions of his empire and 
+of his body, so that the number of seventy-two nations remains. But 
+Peleg was mentioned, not because he founded a nation (for his race and 
+language are Hebrew), but on account of the critical time at which he 
+was born, all the earth being then divided. Nor ought we to be surprised 
+that the giant Nimrod lived to the time in which Babylon was founded 
+and the confusion of tongues occurred, and the consequent division of 
+the earth. For though Heber was in the sixth generation from Noah, and 
+Nimrod in the fourth, it does not follow that they could not be alive at 
+the same time. For when the generations are few, they live longer and 
+are born later; but when they are many, they live a shorter time, and 
+come into the world earlier. We are to understand that, when the earth 
+was divided, the descendants of Noah who are registered as founders of 
+nations were not only already born, but were of an age to have immense 
+families, worthy to be called tribes or nations. And therefore we must by 
+no means suppose that they were born in the order in which they were 
+set down; otherwise, how could the twelve sons of Joktan, another son 
+of Heber’s, and brother of Peleg, have already founded nations, if Joktan 
+was born, as he is registered, after his brother Peleg, since the earth was 
+divided at Peleg’s birth? We are therefore to understand that, though 
+Peleg is named first, he was born long after Joktan, whose twelve sons 
+had already families so large as to admit of their being divided by 
+different languages. There is nothing extraordinary in the last born being 
+first named: of the sons of Noah, the descendants of Japheth are first 
+named; then the sons of Ham, who was the second son; and last the sons 
+of Shem, who was the first and oldest. Of these nations the names have 
+partly survived, so that at this day we can see from whom they have 
+sprung, as the Assyrians from Assur, the Hebrews from Heber, but partly 
+have been altered in the lapse of time, so that the most learned men, by 
+
+
+profound research in ancient records, have scarcely been able to discover 
+the origin, I do not say of all, but of some of these nations. There is, for 
+example, nothing in the name Egyptians to show that they are descended 
+from Mizraim, Ham’s son, nor in the name Ethiopians to show a 
+connection with Cush, though such is said to be the origin of these 
+nations. And if we take a general survey of the names, we shall find that 
+more have been changed than have remained the same. 
+
+
+12. Of the era in Abraham’s life from which a new period in the holy succession begins 
+
+
+Let us now survey the progress of the city of God from the era of the 
+patriarch Abraham, from whose time it begins to be more conspicuous, 
+and the divine promises which are now fulfilled in Christ are more fully 
+revealed. We learn, then, from the intimations of holy Scripture, that 
+Abraham was born in the country of the Chaldeans, a land belonging to 
+the Assyrian empire. Now, even at that time impious superstitions were 
+rife with the Chaldeans, as with other nations. The family of Terah, to 
+which Abraham belonged, was the only one in which the worship of the 
+true God survived, and the only one, we may suppose, in which the 
+Hebrew language was preserved; although Joshua the son of Nun tells us 
+that even this family served other gods in Mesopotamia.3! The other 
+descendants of Heber gradually became absorbed in other races and 
+other languages. And thus, as the single family of Noah was preserved 
+through the deluge of water to renew the human race, so, in the deluge 
+of superstition that flooded the whole world there remained but the one 
+family of Terah in which the seed of God’s city was preserved. And as, 
+when Scripture has enumerated the generations prior to Noah, with their 
+ages, and explained the cause of the flood before God began to speak to 
+Noah about the building of the ark, it is said, “These are the generations 
+of Noah;” so also now, after enumerating the generations from Shem, 
+Noah’s son, down to Abraham, it then signalizes an era by saying, “These 
+are the generations of Terah: Terah begat Abram, Nahor, and Haran; and 
+Haran begat Lot. And Haran died before his father Terah in the land of 
+his nativity, in Ur of the Chaldees. And Abram and Nahor took them 
+wives: the name of Abram’s wife was Sarai; and the name of Nahor’s 
+wife Milcah, the daughter of Haran, the father of Milcah, and the father 
+of Iscah.”32 This Iscah is supposed to be the same as Sarah, Abraham’s 
+wife. 
+
+
+13. Why, in the account of Terah’s emigration, on his forsaking the Chaldeans and passing over 
+
+
+into Mesopotamia, no mention is made of his son Nahor 
+
+
+Next it is related how Terah with his family left the region of the 
+Chaldeans and came into Mesopotamia, and dwelt in Haran. But nothing 
+is said about one of his sons called Nahor, as if he had not taken him 
+along with him. For the narrative runs thus: “And Terah took Abram his 
+son, and Lot the son of Haran, his son’s son, and Sarai his daughter-in- 
+law, his son Abram’s wife, and led them forth out of the region of the 
+Chaldeans to go into the land of Canaan; and he came into Haran, and 
+dwelt there.”33 Nahor and Milcah his wife are nowhere named here. But 
+afterwards, when Abraham sent his servant to take a wife for his son 
+Isaac, we find it thus written: “And the servant took ten camels of the 
+camels of his lord, and of all the goods of his lord, with him; and arose, 
+and went into Mesopotamia, into the city of Nahor.”34 This and other 
+testimonies of this sacred history show that Nahor, Abraham’s brother, 
+had also left the region of the Chaldeans, and fixed his abode in 
+Mesopotamia, where Abraham dwelt with his father. Why, then, did the 
+Scripture not mention him, when Terah with his family went forth out of 
+the Chaldean nation and dwelt in Haran, since it mentions that he took 
+with him not only Abraham his son, but also Sarah his daughter-in-law, 
+and Lot his grandson? The only reason we can think of is, that perhaps 
+he had lapsed from the piety of his father and brother, and adhered to 
+the superstition of the Chaldeans, and had afterwards emigrated thence, 
+either through penitence, or because he was persecuted as a suspected 
+person. For in the book called Judith, when Holofernes, the enemy of the 
+Israelites, inquired what kind of nation that might be, and whether war 
+should be made against them, Achior, the leader of the Ammonites, 
+answered him thus: “Let our lord now hear a word from the mouth of 
+thy servant, and I will declare unto thee the truth concerning the people 
+which dwelleth near thee in this hill country, and there shall no lie come 
+out of the mouth of thy servant. For this people is descended from the 
+Chaldeans, and they dwelt heretofore in Mesopotamia, because they 
+would not follow the gods of their fathers, which were glorious in the 
+land of the Chaldeans, but went out of the way of their ancestors, and 
+adored the God of heaven, whom they knew; and they cast them out 
+from the face of their gods, and they fled into Mesopotamia, and dwelt 
+
+
+there many days. And their God said to them, that they should depart 
+from their habitation, and go into the land of Canaan; and they dwelt,”35 
+etc., as Achior the Ammonite narrates. Whence it is manifest that the 
+house of Terah had suffered persecution from the Chaldeans for the true 
+piety with which they worshipped the one and true God. 
+
+
+14. Of the years of Terah, who completed his lifetime in Haran 
+
+
+On Terah’s death in Mesopotamia, where he is said to have lived 205 
+years, the promises of God made to Abraham now begin to be pointed 
+out; for thus it is written: “And the days of Terah in Haran were two 
+hundred and five years, and he died in Haran.”36 This is not to be taken 
+as if he had spent all his days there, but that he there completed the 
+days of his life, which were two hundred and five years: otherwise it 
+would not be known how many years Terah lived, since it is not said in 
+what year of his life he came into Haran; and it is absurd to suppose 
+that, in this series of generations, where it is carefully recorded how 
+many years each one lived, his age was the only one not put on record. 
+For although some whom the same Scripture mentions have not their 
+age recorded, they are not in this series, in which the reckoning of time 
+is continuously indicated by the death of the parents and the succession 
+of the children. For this series, which is given in order from Adam to 
+Noah, and from him down to Abraham, contains no one without the 
+number of the years of his life. 
+
+
+15. Of the time of the migration of Abraham, when, according to the commandment of God, he 
+
+
+went out from Haran 
+
+
+When, after the record of the death of Terah, the father of Abraham, 
+we next read, “And the Lord said to Abram, Get thee out of thy country, 
+and from thy kindred, and from thy father’s house,”37 etc., it is not to be 
+supposed, because this follows in the order of the narrative, that it also 
+followed in the chronological order of events. For if it were so, there 
+would be an insoluble difficulty. For after these words of God which 
+were spoken to Abraham, the Scripture says: “And Abram departed, as 
+the Lord had spoken unto him; and Lot went with him. Now Abraham 
+was seventy-five years old when he departed out of Haran.”38 How can 
+this be true if he departed from Haran after his father’s death? For when 
+Terah was seventy years old, as is intimated above, he begat Abraham; 
+
+
+and if to this number we add the seventy-five years which Abraham 
+reckoned when he went out of Haran, we get 145 years. Therefore that 
+was the number of years of Terah, when Abraham departed out of that 
+city of Mesopotamia; for he had reached the seventy-fifth year of his life, 
+and thus his father, who begat him in the seventieth year of his life, had 
+reached, as was said, his 145th. Therefore he did not depart thence after 
+his father’s death, that, is, after the 205 years his father lived; but the 
+year of his departure from that place, seeing it was his seventy-fifth, is 
+inferred beyond a doubt to have been the 145th of his father, who begat 
+him in his seventieth year. And thus it is to be understood that the 
+Scripture, according to its custom, has gone back to the time which had 
+already been passed by the narrative; just as above, when it had 
+mentioned the grandsons of Noah, it said that they were in their nations 
+and tongues; and yet afterwards, as if this also had followed in order of 
+time, it says, “And the whole earth was of one lip, and one speech for 
+all.”39 How, then, could they be said to be in their own nations and 
+according to their own tongues, if there was one for all; except because 
+the narrative goes back to gather up what it had passed over? Here, too, 
+in the same way, after saying, “And the days of Terah in Haran were 205 
+years, and Terah died in Haran,” the Scripture, going back to what had 
+been passed over in order to complete what had been begun about 
+Terah, says, “And the Lord said to Abram, Get thee out of thy 
+country,”49 etc. After which words of God it is added, “And Abram 
+departed, as the Lord spake unto him; and Lot went with him. But 
+Abram was seventy-five years old when he departed out of Haran.” 
+Therefore it was done when his father was in the 145th year of his age; 
+for it was then the seventy-fifth of his own. But this question is also 
+solved in another way, that the seventy-five years of Abraham when he 
+departed out of Haran are reckoned from the year in which he was 
+delivered from the fire of the Chaldeans, not from that of his birth, as if 
+he was rather to be held as having been born then. 
+
+Now the blessed Stephen, in narrating these things in the Acts of the 
+Apostles, says: “The God of glory appeared unto our father Abraham, 
+when he was in Mesopotamia, before he dwelt in Charran, and said unto 
+him, Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred, and from thy 
+father’s house, and come into the land which I will show thee.”4! 
+According to these words of Stephen, God spoke to Abraham, not after 
+
+
+the death of his father, who certainly died in Haran, where his son also 
+dwelt with him, but before he dwelt in that city, although he was 
+already in Mesopotamia. Therefore he had already departed from the 
+Chaldeans. So that when Stephen adds, “Then Abraham went out of the 
+land of the Chaldeans, and dwelt in Charran,”42 this does not point out 
+what took place after God spoke to him (for it was not after these words 
+of God that he went out of the land of the Chaldeans, since he says that 
+God spoke to him in Mesopotamia), but the word “then” which he uses 
+refers to that whole period from his going out of the land of the 
+Chaldeans and dwelling in Haran. Likewise in what follows, “And 
+thenceforth, when his father was dead, he settled him in this land, 
+wherein ye now dwell, and your fathers,” he does not say, after his 
+father was dead he went out from Haran; but thenceforth he settled him 
+here, after his father was dead. It is to be understood, therefore, that 
+God had spoken to Abraham when he was in Mesopotamia, before he 
+dwelt in Haran; but that he came to Haran with his father, keeping in 
+mind the precept of God, and that he went out thence in his own 
+seventy-fifth year, which was his father’s 145th. But he says that his 
+settlement in the land of Canaan, not his going forth from Haran, took 
+place after his father’s death; because his father was already dead when 
+he purchased the land, and personally entered on possession of it. But 
+when, on his having already settled in Mesopotamia, that is, already 
+gone out of the land of the Chaldeans, God says, “Get thee out of thy 
+country, and from thy kindred, and from thy father’s house,”43 this 
+means, not that he should cast out his body from thence, for he had 
+already done that, but that he should tear away his soul. For he had not 
+gone out from thence in mind, if he was held by the hope and desire of 
+returning—a hope and desire which was to be cut off by God’s command 
+and help, and by his own obedience. It would indeed be no incredible 
+supposition that afterwards, when Nahor followed his father, Abraham 
+then fulfilled the precept of the Lord, that he should depart out of Haran 
+with Sarah his wife and Lot his brother’s son. 
+
+
+16. Of the order and nature of the promises of God which were made to Abraham 
+
+
+God’s promises made to Abraham are now to be considered; for in 
+these the oracles of our God,*4 that is, of the true God, began to appear 
+more openly concerning the godly people, whom prophetic authority 
+
+
+foretold. The first of these reads thus: “And the Lord said unto Abram, 
+Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred, and from thy father’s 
+house, and go into a land that I will show thee: and I will make of thee a 
+great nation, and I will bless thee, and magnify thy name; and thou shalt 
+be blessed: and I will bless them that bless thee, and curse them that 
+curse thee: and in thee shall all tribes of the earth be blessed.”45 Now it 
+is to be observed that two things are promised to Abraham, the one, that 
+his seed should possess the land of Canaan, which is intimated when it is 
+said, “Go into a land that I will show thee, and I will make of thee a 
+great nation;” but the other far more excellent, not about the carnal but 
+the spiritual seed, through which he is the father, not of the one Israelite 
+nation, but of all nations who follow the footprints of his faith, which 
+was first promised in these words, “And in thee shall all tribes of the 
+earth be blessed.” Eusebius thought this promise was made in Abraham’s 
+seventy-fifth year, as if soon after it was made Abraham had departed 
+out of Haran; because the Scripture cannot be contradicted, in which we 
+read, “Abram was seventy and five years old when he departed out of 
+Haran.” But if this promise was made in that year, then of course 
+Abraham was staying in Haran with his father; for he could not depart 
+thence unless he had first dwelt there. Does this, then, contradict what 
+Stephen says, “The God of glory appeared to our father Abraham, when 
+he was in Mesopotamia, before he dwelt in Charran?”46 But it is to be 
+understood that the whole took place in the same year—both the 
+promise of God before Abraham dwelt in Haran, and his dwelling in 
+Haran, and his departure thence—not only because Eusebius in the 
+Chronicles reckons from the year of this promise, and shows that after 
+430 years the exodus from Egypt took place, when the law was given, 
+but because the Apostle Paul also mentions it. 
+
+
+17. Of the three most famous kingdoms of the nations, of which one, that is, the Assyrian, was 
+
+
+already very eminent when Abraham was born 
+
+
+During the same period there were three famous kingdoms of the 
+nations, in which the city of the earth-born, that is, the society of men 
+living according to man under the domination of the fallen angels, 
+chiefly flourished, namely, the three kingdoms of Sicyon, Egypt, and 
+Assyria. Of these, Assyria was much the most powerful and sublime; for 
+that king Ninus, son of Belus, had subdued the people of all Asia except 
+
+
+India. By Asia I now mean not that part which is one province of this 
+greater Asia, but what is called Universal Asia, which some set down as 
+the half, but most as the third part of the whole world—the three being 
+Asia, Europe, and Africa, thereby making an unequal division. For the 
+part called Asia stretches from the south through the east even to the 
+north; Europe from the north even to the west; and Africa from the west 
+even to the south. Thus we see that two, Europe and Africa, contain one 
+half of the world, and Asia alone the other half. And these two parts are 
+made by the circumstance, that there enters between them from the 
+ocean all the Mediterranean water, which makes this great sea of ours. 
+So that, if you divide the world into two parts, the east and the west, 
+Asia will be in the one, and Europe and Africa in the other. So that of 
+the three kingdoms then famous, one, namely Sicyon, was not under the 
+Assyrians, because it was in Europe; but as for Egypt, how could it fail to 
+be subject to the empire which ruled all Asia with the single exception of 
+India? In Assyria, therefore, the dominion of the impious city had the 
+pre-eminence. Its head was Babylon—an earth-born city, most fitly 
+named, for it means confusion. There Ninus reigned after the death of 
+his father Belus, who first had reigned there sixty-five years. His son 
+Ninus, who, on his father’s death, succeeded to the kingdom, reigned 
+fifty-two years, and had been king forty-three years when Abraham was 
+born, which was about the 1200th year before Rome was founded, as it 
+were another Babylon in the west. 
+
+
+18. Of the repeated address of God to Abraham, in which He promised the land of Canaan to 
+him and to his seed 
+
+
+Abraham, then, having departed out of Haran in the seventy-fifth year 
+of his own age, and in the hundred and forty-fifth of his father’s, went 
+with Lot, his brother’s son, and Sarah his wife, into the land of Canaan, 
+and came even to Sichem, where again he received the divine oracle, of 
+which it is thus written: “And the Lord appeared unto Abram, and said 
+unto him, Unto thy seed will I give this land.”47 Nothing is promised 
+here about that seed in which he is made the father of all nations, but 
+only about that by which he is the father of the one Israelite nation; for 
+by this seed that land was possessed. 
+
+
+19. Of the divine preservation of Sarah’s chastity in Egypt, when Abraham had called her not his 
+wife but his sister 
+
+
+Having built an altar there, and called upon God, Abraham proceeded 
+thence and dwelt in the desert, and was compelled by pressure of famine 
+to go on into Egypt. There he called his wife his sister, and told no lie. 
+For she was this also, because she was near of blood; just as Lot, on 
+account of the same nearness, being his brother’s son, is called his 
+brother. Now he did not deny that she was his wife, but held his peace 
+about it, committing to God the defence of his wife’s chastity, and 
+providing as a man against human wiles; because if he had not provided 
+against the danger as much as he could, he would have been tempting 
+God rather than trusting in Him. We have said enough about this matter 
+against the calumnies of Faustus the Manichzan. At last what Abraham 
+had expected the Lord to do took place. For Pharaoh, king of Egypt, who 
+had taken her to him as his wife, restored her to her husband on being 
+severely plagued. And far be it from us to believe that she was defiled by 
+lying with another; because it is much more credible that, by these great 
+afflictions, Pharaoh was not permitted to do this. 
+
+
+20. Of the parting of Lot and Abraham, which they agreed to without breach of charity 
+
+
+On Abraham’s return out of Egypt to the place he had left, Lot, his 
+brother’s son, departed from him into the land of Sodom, without breach 
+of charity. For they had grown rich, and began to have many herdmen of 
+cattle, and when these strove together, they avoided in this way the 
+pugnacious discord of their families. Indeed, as human affairs go, this 
+cause might even have given rise to some strife between themselves. 
+Consequently these are the words of Abraham to Lot, when taking 
+precaution against this evil, “Let there be no strife between me and thee, 
+and between my herdmen and thy herdmen; for we be brethren. Behold, 
+is not the whole land before thee? Separate thyself from me: if thou wilt 
+go to the left hand, I will go to the right; or if thou wilt go to the right 
+hand, I will go to the left.”48 From this, perhaps, has arisen a pacific 
+custom among men, that when there is any partition of earthly things, 
+the greater should make the division, the less the choice. 
+
+
+21. Of the third promise of God, by which He assured the land of Canaan to Abraham and his 
+
+
+seed in perpetuity 
+
+
+Now, when Abraham and Lot had separated, and dwelt apart, owing 
+to the necessity of supporting their families, and not to vile discord, and 
+
+
+Abraham was in the land of Canaan, but Lot in Sodom, the Lord said to 
+Abraham in a third oracle, “Lift up thine eyes, and look from the place 
+where thou now art, to the north, and to Africa, and to the east, and to 
+the sea; for all the land which thou seest, to thee will I give it, and to thy 
+seed for ever. And I will make thy seed as the dust of the earth: if any 
+one can number the dust of the earth, thy seed shall also be numbered. 
+Arise, and walk through the land, in the length of it, and in the breadth 
+of it; for unto thee will I give it.”49 It does not clearly appear whether in 
+this promise that also is contained by which he is made the father of all 
+nations. For the clause, “And I will make thy seed as the dust of the 
+earth,” may seem to refer to this, being spoken by that figure the Greeks 
+call hyperbole, which indeed is figurative, not literal. But no person of 
+understanding can doubt in what manner the Scripture uses this and 
+other figures. For that figure (that is, way of speaking) is used when 
+what is said is far larger than what is meant by it; for who does not see 
+how incomparably larger the number of the dust must be than that of all 
+men can be from Adam himself down to the end of the world? How 
+much greater, then, must it be than the seed of Abraham—not only that 
+pertaining to the nation of Israel, but also that which is and shall be 
+according to the imitation of faith in all nations of the whole wide 
+world! For that seed is indeed very small in comparison with the 
+multitude of the wicked, although even those few of themselves make an 
+innumerable multitude, which by a hyperbole is compared to the dust of 
+the earth. Truly that multitude which was promised to Abraham is not 
+innumerable to God, although to man; but to God not even the dust of 
+the earth is so. Further, the promise here made may be understood not 
+only of the nation of Israel, but of the whole seed of Abraham, which 
+may be fitly compared to the dust for multitude, because regarding it 
+also there is the promise5° of many children, not according to the flesh, 
+but according to the spirit. But we have therefore said that this does not 
+clearly appear, because the multitude even of that one nation, which was 
+born according to the flesh of Abraham through his grandson Jacob, has 
+increased so much as to fill almost all parts of the world. Consequently, 
+even it might by hyperbole be compared to the dust for multitude, 
+because even it alone is innumerable by man. Certainly no one questions 
+that only that land is meant which is called Canaan. But that saying, “To 
+thee will I give it, and to thy seed for ever,” may move some, if by “for 
+
+
+ever” they understand “to eternity.” But if in this passage they take “for 
+ever” thus, as we firmly hold it means, that the beginning of the world 
+to come is to be ordered from the end of the present, there is still no 
+difficulty, because, although the Israelites are expelled from Jerusalem, 
+they still remain in other cities in the land of Canaan, and shall remain 
+even to the end; and when that whole land is inhabited by Christians, 
+they also are the very seed of Abraham. 
+
+
+22. Of Abraham’s overcoming the enemies of Sodom, when he delivered Lot from captivity and 
+was blessed by Melchizedek the priest 
+
+
+Having received this oracle of promise, Abraham migrated, and 
+remained in another place of the same land, that is, beside the oak of 
+Mamre, which was Hebron. Then on the invasion of Sodom, when five 
+kings carried on war against four, and Lot was taken captive with the 
+conquered Sodomites, Abraham delivered him from the enemy, leading 
+with him to battle three hundred and eighteen of his home-born 
+servants, and won the victory for the kings of Sodom, but would take 
+nothing of the spoils when offered by the king for whom he had won 
+them. He was then openly blessed by Melchizedek, who was priest of 
+God Most High, about whom many and great things are written in the 
+epistle which is inscribed to the Hebrews, which most say is by the 
+Apostle Paul, though some deny this. For then first appeared the 
+sacrifice which is now offered to God by Christians in the whole wide 
+world, and that is fulfilled which long after the event was said by the 
+prophet to Christ, who was yet to come in the flesh, “Thou art a priest 
+for ever after the order of Melchizedek”5!—that is to say, not after the 
+order of Aaron, for that order was to be taken away when the things 
+shone forth which were intimated beforehand by these shadows. 
+
+
+23. Of the word of the Lord to Abraham, by which it was promised to him that his posterity 
+should be multiplied according to the multitude of the stars; on believing which he was declared 
+
+
+justified while yet in uncircumcision 
+
+
+The word of the Lord came to Abraham in a vision also. For when God 
+promised him protection and exceeding great reward, he, being 
+solicitous about posterity, said that a certain Eliezer of Damascus, born 
+in his house, would be his heir. Immediately he was promised an heir, 
+not that house-born servant, but one who was to come forth of Abraham 
+
+
+himself; and again a seed innumerable, not as the dust of the earth, but 
+as the stars of heaven—which rather seems to me a promise of a 
+posterity exalted in celestial felicity. For, so far as multitude is 
+concerned, what are the stars of heaven to the dust of the earth, unless 
+one should say the comparison is like inasmuch as the stars also cannot 
+be numbered? For it is not to be believed that all of them can be seen. 
+For the more keenly one observes them, the more does he see. So that it 
+is to be supposed some remain concealed from the keenest observers, to 
+say nothing of those stars which are said to rise and set in another part 
+of the world most remote from us. Finally, the authority of this book 
+condemns those like Aratus or Eudoxus, or any others who boast that 
+they have found out and written down the complete number of the stars. 
+Here, indeed, is set down that sentence which the apostle quotes in order 
+to commend the grace of God, “Abraham believed God, and it was 
+counted to him for righteousness;”52 lest the circumcision should glory, 
+and be unwilling to receive the uncircumcised nations to the faith of 
+Christ. For at the time when he believed, and his faith was counted to 
+him for righteousness, Abraham had not yet been circumcised. 
+
+
+24. Of the meaning of the sacrifice Abraham was commanded to offer when he supplicated to be 
+
+
+taught about those things he had believed 
+
+
+In the same vision, God in speaking to him also says, “I am God that 
+brought thee out of the region of the Chaldees, to give thee this land to 
+inherit it.”°3 And when Abram asked whereby he might know that he 
+should inherit it, God said to him, “Take me an heifer of three years old, 
+and a she-goat of three years old, and a ram of three years old, and a 
+turtle-dove, and a pigeon. And he took unto him all these, and divided 
+them in the midst, and laid each piece one against another; but the birds 
+divided he not. And the fowls came down,” as it is written, “on the 
+carcases, and Abram sat down by them. But about the going down of the 
+sun, great fear fell upon Abram; and, lo, an horror of great darkness fell 
+upon him. And He said unto Abram, Know of a surety that thy seed shall 
+be a stranger in a land not theirs, and they shall reduce them to 
+servitude; and shall afflict them four hundred years: but the nation 
+whom they shall serve will I judge; and afterward shall they come out 
+hither with great substance. And thou shalt go to thy fathers in peace; 
+kept in a good old age. But in the fourth generation they shall come 
+
+
+hither again: for the iniquity of the Amorites is not yet full. And when 
+the sun was setting, there was a flame, and a smoking furnace, and 
+lamps of fire, that passed through between those pieces. In that day the 
+Lord made a covenant with Abram, saying, Unto thy seed will I give this 
+land, from the river of Egypt unto the great river Euphrates: the Kenites, 
+and the Kenizzites, and the Kadmonites, and the Hittites, and the 
+Perizzites, and the Rephaims, and the Amorites, and the Canaanites, and 
+the Hivites, and the Girgashites, and the Jebusites.”54 
+
+All these things were said and done in a vision from God; but it would 
+take long, and would exceed the scope of this work, to treat of them 
+exactly in detail. It is enough that we should know that, after it was said 
+Abram believed in God, and it was counted to him for righteousness, he 
+did not fail in faith in saying, “Lord God, whereby shall I know that I 
+shall inherit it?” for the inheritance of that land was promised to him. 
+Now he does not say, How shall I know, as if he did not yet believe; but 
+he says, “Whereby shall I know,” meaning that some sign might be given 
+by which he might know the manner of those things which he had 
+believed, just as it is not for lack of faith the Virgin Mary says, “How 
+shall this be, seeing I know not a man?”59 for she inquired as to the way 
+in which that should take place which she was certain would come to 
+pass. And when she asked this, she was told, “The Holy Ghost shall come 
+upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall overshadow thee.”5© Here 
+also, in fine, a symbol was given, consisting of three animals, a heifer, a 
+she-goat, and a ram, and two birds, a turtle-dove and pigeon, that he 
+might know that the things which he had not doubted should come to 
+pass were to happen in accordance with this symbol. Whether, therefore, 
+the heifer was a sign that the people should be put under the law, the 
+she-goat that the same people was to become sinful, the ram that they 
+should reign (and these animals are said to be of three years old for this 
+reason, that there are three remarkable divisions of time, from Adam to 
+Noah, and from him to Abraham, and from him to David, who, on the 
+rejection of Saul, was first established by the will of the Lord in the 
+kingdom of the Israelite nation: in this third division, which extends 
+from Abraham to David, that people grew up as if passing through the 
+third age of life), or whether they had some other more suitable 
+meaning, still I have no doubt whatever that spiritual things were 
+prefigured by them as well as by the turtle-dove and pigeon. And it is 
+
+
+said, “But the birds divided he not,” because carnal men are divided 
+among themselves, but the spiritual not at all, whether they seclude 
+themselves from the busy conversation of men, like the turtle-dove, or 
+dwell among them, like the pigeon; for both birds are simple and 
+harmless, signifying that even in the Israelite people, to which that land 
+was to be given, there would be individuals who were children of the 
+promise, and heirs of the kingdom that is5” to remain in eternal felicity. 
+But the fowls coming down on the divided carcases represent nothing 
+good, but the spirits of this air, seeking some food for themselves in the 
+division of carnal men. But that Abraham sat down with them, signifies 
+that even amid these divisions of the carnal, true believers shall 
+persevere to the end. And that about the going down of the sun great 
+fear fell upon Abraham and a horror of great darkness, signifies that 
+about the end of this world believers shall be in great perturbation and 
+tribulation, of which the Lord said in the gospel, “For then shall be great 
+tribulation, such as was not from the beginning.”58 
+
+But what is said to Abraham, “Know of a surety that thy seed shall be 
+a stranger in a land not theirs, and they shall reduce them to servitude, 
+and shall afflict them 400 years,” is most clearly a prophecy about the 
+people of Israel which was to be in servitude in Egypt. Not that this 
+people was to be in that servitude under the oppressive Egyptians for 
+400 years, but it is foretold that this should take place in the course of 
+those 400 years. For as it is written of Terah the father of Abraham, 
+“And the days of Terah in Haran were 205 years,”59 not because they 
+were all spent there, but because they were completed there, so it is said 
+here also, “And they shall reduce them to servitude, and shall afflict 
+them 400 years,” for this reason, because that number was completed, 
+not because it was all spent in that affliction. The years are said to be 
+400 in round numbers, although they were a little more—whether you 
+reckon from this time, when these things were promised to Abraham, or 
+from the birth of Isaac, as the seed of Abraham, of which these things 
+are predicted. For, as we have already said above, from the seventy-fifth 
+year of Abraham, when the first promise was made to him, down to the 
+exodus of Israel from Egypt, there are reckoned 430 years, which the 
+apostle thus mentions: “And this I say, that the covenant confirmed by 
+God, the law, which was made 430 years after, cannot disannul, that it 
+should make the promise of none effect.”6° So then these 430 years 
+
+
+might be called 400, because they are not much more, especially since 
+part even of that number had already gone by when these things were 
+shown and said to Abraham in vision, or when Isaac was born in his 
+father’s 100th year, twenty-five years after the first promise, when of 
+these 430 years there now remained 405, which God was pleased to call 
+400. No one will doubt that the other things which follow in the 
+prophetic words of God pertain to the people of Israel. 
+
+When it is added, “And when the sun was now setting there was a 
+flame, and lo, a smoking furnace, and lamps of fire, which passed 
+through between those pieces,” this signifies that at the end of the world 
+the carnal shall be judged by fire. For just as the affliction of the city of 
+God, such as never was before, which is expected to take place under 
+Antichrist, was signified by Abraham’s horror of great darkness about 
+the going down of the sun, that is, when the end of the world draws nigh 
+—so at the going down of the sun, that is, at the very end of the world, 
+there is signified by that fire the day of judgment, which separates the 
+carnal who are to be saved by fire from those who are to be condemned 
+in the fire. And then the covenant made with Abraham particularly sets 
+forth the land of Canaan, and names eleven tribes in it from the river of 
+Egypt even to the great river Euphrates. It is not then from the great 
+river of Egypt, that is, the Nile, but from a small one which separates 
+Egypt from Palestine, where the city of Rhinocorura is. 
+
+
+25. Of Sarah’s handmaid, Hagar, whom she herself wished to be Abraham’s concubine 
+
+
+And here follow the times of Abraham’s sons, the one by Hagar the 
+bond maid, the other by Sarah the free woman, about whom we have 
+already spoken in the previous book. As regards this transaction, 
+Abraham is in no way to be branded as guilty concerning this concubine, 
+for he used her for the begetting of progeny, not for the gratification of 
+lust; and not to insult, but rather to obey his wife, who supposed it 
+would be a solace of her barrenness if she could make use of the fruitful 
+womb of her handmaid to supply the defect of her own nature, and by 
+that law of which the apostle says, “Likewise also the husband hath not 
+power of his own body, but the wife,”©! could, as a wife, make use of 
+him for childbearing by another, when she could not do so in her own 
+person. Here there is no wanton lust, no filthy lewdness. The handmaid 
+is delivered to the husband by the wife for the sake of progeny, and is 
+
+
+received by the husband for the sake of progeny, each seeking, not guilty 
+excess, but natural fruit. And when the pregnant bond woman despised 
+her barren mistress, and Sarah, with womanly jealousy, rather laid the 
+blame of this on her husband, even then Abraham showed that he was 
+not a slavish lover, but a free begetter of children, and that in using 
+Hagar he had guarded the chastity of Sarah his wife, and had gratified 
+her will and not his own—had received her without seeking, had gone in 
+to her without being attached, had impregnated without loving her—for 
+he says, “Behold, thy maid is in thy hands: do to her as it pleaseth 
+thee;”62 a man able to use women as a man should—his wife 
+temperately, his handmaid compliantly, neither intemperately! 
+
+
+26. Of God’s attestation to Abraham, by which He assures him, when now old, of a son by the 
+barren Sarah, and appoints him the father of the nations, and seals his faith in the promise by 
+
+
+the sacrament of circumcision 
+
+
+After these things Ishmael was born of Hagar; and Abraham might 
+think that in him was fulfilled what God had promised him, saying, 
+when he wished to adopt his home-born servant, “This shall not be thine 
+heir; but he that shall come forth of thee, he shall be thine heir.”63 
+Therefore, lest he should think that what was promised was fulfilled in 
+the handmaid’s son, “when Abram was ninety years old and nine, God 
+appeared to him, and said unto him, I am God; be well-pleasing in my 
+sight, and be without complaint, and I will make my covenant between 
+me and thee, and will fill thee exceedingly.”64 
+
+Here there are more distinct promises about the calling of the nations 
+in Isaac, that is, in the son of the promise, by which grace is signified, 
+and not nature; for the son is promised from an old man and a barren 
+old woman. For although God effects even the natural course of 
+procreation, yet where the agency of God is manifest, through the decay 
+or failure of nature, grace is more plainly discerned. And because this 
+was to be brought about, not by generation, but by regeneration, 
+circumcision was enjoined now, when a son was promised of Sarah. And 
+by ordering all, not only sons, but also home-born and purchased 
+servants to be circumcised, he testifies that this grace pertains to all. For 
+what else does circumcision signify than a nature renewed on the 
+putting off of the old? And what else does the eighth day mean than 
+Christ, who rose again when the week was completed, that is, after the 
+
+
+Sabbath? The very names of the parents are changed: all things proclaim 
+newness, and the new covenant is shadowed forth in the old. For what 
+does the term old covenant imply but the concealing of the new? And 
+what does the term new covenant imply but the revealing of the old? 
+The laughter of Abraham is the exultation of one who rejoices, not the 
+scornful laughter of one who mistrusts. And those words of his in his 
+heart, “Shall a son be born to me that am an hundred years old? and 
+shall Sarah, that is ninety years old, bear?” are not the words of doubt, 
+but of wonder. And when it is said, “And I will give to thee, and to thy 
+seed after thee, the land in which thou art a stranger, all the land of 
+Canaan, for an everlasting possession,” if it troubles any one whether 
+this is to be held as fulfilled, or whether its fulfilment may still be looked 
+for, since no kind of earthly possession can be everlasting for any nation 
+whatever, let him know that the word translated everlasting by our 
+writers is what the Greeks term aiévey, which is derived from aidy, the 
+Greek for seculum, an age. But the Latins have not ventured to translate 
+this by secular, lest they should change the meaning into something 
+widely different. For many things are called secular which so happen in 
+this world as to pass away even in a short time; but what is term aidviov 
+either has no end, or lasts to the very end of this world. 
+
+
+27. Of the male, who was to lose his soul if he was not circumcised on the eighth day, because 
+
+
+he had broken God’s covenant 
+
+
+When it is said, “The male who is not circumcised in the flesh of his 
+foreskin, that soul shall be cut off from his people, because he hath 
+broken my covenant,”©5 some may be troubled how that ought to be 
+understood, since it can be no fault of the infant whose life it is said 
+must perish; nor has the covenant of God been broken by him, but by his 
+parents, who have not taken care to circumcise him. But even the 
+infants, not personally in their own life, but according to the common 
+origin of the human race, have all broken God’s covenant in that one in 
+whom all have sinned.©6 Now there are many things called God’s 
+covenants besides those two great ones, the old and the new, which any 
+one who pleases may read and know. For the first covenant, which was 
+made with the first man, is just this: “In the day ye eat thereof, ye shall 
+surely die.”6” Whence it is written in the book called Ecclesiasticus, “All 
+flesh waxeth old as doth a garment. For the covenant from the beginning 
+
+
+is, Thou shalt die the death.”©8 Now, as the law was more plainly given 
+afterward, and the apostle says, “Where no law is, there is no 
+prevarication,”©? on what supposition is what is said in the psalm true, 
+“T accounted all the sinners of the earth prevaricators,””° except that all 
+who are held liable for any sin are accused of dealing deceitfully 
+(prevaricating) with some law? If on this account, then, even the infants 
+are, according to the true belief, born in sin, not actual but original, so 
+that we confess they have need of grace for the remission of sins, 
+certainly it must be acknowledged that in the same sense in which they 
+are sinners they are also prevaricators of that law which was given in 
+Paradise, according to the truth of both scriptures, “I accounted all the 
+sinners of the earth prevaricators,” and “Where no law is, there is no 
+prevarication.” And thus, because circumcision was the sign of 
+regeneration, and the infant, on account of the original sin by which 
+God’s covenant was first broken, was not undeservedly to lose his 
+generation unless delivered by regeneration, these divine words are to be 
+understood as if it had been said, Whoever is not born again, that soul 
+shall perish from his people, because he hath broken my covenant, since 
+he also has sinned in Adam with all others. For had He said, Because he 
+hath broken this my covenant, He would have compelled us to 
+understand by it only this of circumcision; but since He has not expressly 
+said what covenant the infant has broken, we are free to understand Him 
+as speaking of that covenant of which the breach can be ascribed to an 
+infant. Yet if any one contends that it is said of nothing else than 
+circumcision, that in it the infant has broken the covenant of God 
+because he is not circumcised, he must seek some method of explanation 
+by which it may be understood without absurdity (such as this) that he 
+has broken the covenant, because it has been broken in him although 
+not by him. Yet in this case also it is to be observed that the soul of the 
+infant, being guilty of no sin of neglect against itself, would perish 
+unjustly, unless original sin rendered it obnoxious to punishment. 
+
+
+28. Of the change of name in Abraham and Sarah, who received the gift of fecundity when they 
+
+
+were incapable of regeneration owing to the barrenness of one, and the old age of both 
+
+
+Now when a promise so great and clear was made to Abraham, in 
+which it was so plainly said to him, “I have made thee a father of many 
+nations, and I will increase thee exceedingly, and I will make nations of 
+
+
+thee, and kings shall go forth of thee. And I will give thee a son of Sarah; 
+and I will bless him, and he shall become nations, and kings of nations 
+shall be of him”7!—a promise which we now see fulfilled in Christ— 
+from that time forward this couple are not called in Scripture, as 
+formerly, Abram and Sarai, but Abraham and Sarah, as we have called 
+them from the first, for every one does so now. The reason why the 
+name of Abraham was changed is given: “For,” He says, “I have made 
+thee a father of many nations.” This, then, is to be understood to be the 
+meaning of Abraham; but Abram, as he was formerly called, means 
+“exalted father.” The reason of the change of Sarah’s name is not given; 
+but as those say who have written interpretations of the Hebrew names 
+contained in these books, Sarah means “my princess,” and Sarai 
+“strength.” Whence it is written in the Epistle to the Hebrews, “Through 
+faith also Sarah herself received strength to conceive seed.””2 For both 
+were old, as the Scripture testifies; but she was also barren, and had 
+ceased to menstruate, so that she could no longer bear children even if 
+she had not been barren. Further, if a woman is advanced in years, yet 
+still retains the custom of women, she can bear children to a young man, 
+but not to an old man, although that same old man can beget, but only 
+of a younger woman; as after Sarah’s death Abraham could of Keturah, 
+because he met with her in her lively age. This, then, is what the apostle 
+mentions as wonderful, saying, besides, that Abraham’s body was now 
+dead;73 because at that age he was no longer able to beget children of 
+any woman who retained now only a small part of her natural vigour. Of 
+course we must understand that his body was dead only to some 
+purposes, not to all; for if it was so to all, it would no longer be the aged 
+body of a living man, but the corpse of a dead one. Although that 
+question, how Abraham begot children of Keturah, is usually solved in 
+this way, that the gift of begetting which he received from the Lord, 
+remained even after the death of his wife, yet I think that solution of the 
+question which I have followed is preferable, because, although in our 
+days an old man of a hundred years can beget children of no woman, it 
+was not so then, when men still lived so long that a hundred years did 
+not yet bring on them the decrepitude of old age. 
+
+
+29. Of the three men or angels, in whom the Lord is related to have appeared to Abraham at the 
+
+
+oak of Mamre 
+
+
+God appeared again to Abraham at the oak of Mamre in three men, 
+who it is not to be doubted were angels, although some think that one of 
+them was Christ, and assert that He was visible before He put on flesh. 
+Now it belongs to the divine power, and invisible, incorporeal, and 
+incommutable nature, without changing itself at all, to appear even to 
+mortal men, not by what it is, but by what is subject to it. And what is 
+not subject to it? Yet if they try to establish that one of these three was 
+Christ by the fact that, although he saw three, he addressed the Lord in 
+the singular, as it is written, “And, lo, the three men stood by him: and, 
+when he saw them, he ran to meet them from the tent-door, and 
+worshipped toward the ground, and said, Lord, if I have found favour 
+before thee,””4 etc.; why do they not advert to this also, that when two 
+of them came to destroy the Sodomites, while Abraham still spoke to 
+one, calling him Lord, and interceding that he would not destroy the 
+righteous along with the wicked in Sodom, Lot received these two in 
+such a way that he too in his conversation with them addressed the Lord 
+in the singular? For after saying to them in the plural, “Behold, my lords, 
+turn aside into your servant’s house,”7° etc., yet it is afterwards said, 
+“And the angels laid hold upon his hand, and the hand of his wife, and 
+the hands of his two daughters, because the Lord was merciful unto him. 
+And it came to pass, whenever they had led him forth abroad, that they 
+said, Save thy life; look not behind thee, neither stay thou in all this 
+region: save thyself in the mountain, lest thou be caught. And Lot said 
+unto them, I pray thee, Lord, since thy servant hath found grace in thy 
+sight,”76 etc. And then after these words the Lord also answered him in 
+the singular, although He was in two angels, saying, “See, I have 
+accepted thy face,””7 etc. This makes it much more credible that both 
+Abraham in the three men and Lot in the two recognised the Lord, 
+addressing Him in the singular number, even when they were addressing 
+men; for they received them as they did for no other reason than that 
+they might minister human refection to them as men who needed it. Yet 
+there was about them something so excellent, that those who showed 
+them hospitality as men could not doubt that God was in them as He 
+was wont to be in the prophets, and therefore sometimes addressed them 
+in the plural, and sometimes God in them in the singular. But that they 
+were angels the Scripture testifies, not only in this book of Genesis, in 
+which these transactions are related, but also in the Epistle to the 
+
+
+Hebrews, where in praising hospitality it is said, “For thereby some have 
+entertained angels unawares.”78 By these three men, then, when a son 
+Isaac was again promised to Abraham by Sarah, such a divine oracle was 
+also given that it was said, “Abraham shall become a great and 
+numerous nation, and all the nations of the earth shall be blessed in 
+him.”79 And here these two things are promised with the utmost brevity 
+and fulness—the nation of Israel according to the flesh, and all nations 
+according to faith. 
+
+
+30. Of Lot’s deliverance from Sodom, and its consumption by fire from heaven; and of 
+
+
+Abimelech, whose lust could not harm Sarah’s chastity 
+
+
+After this promise Lot was delivered out of Sodom, and a fiery rain 
+from heaven turned into ashes that whole region of the impious city, 
+where custom had made sodomy as prevalent as laws have elsewhere 
+made other kinds of wickedness. But this punishment of theirs was a 
+specimen of the divine judgment to come. For what is meant by the 
+angels forbidding those who were delivered to look back, but that we are 
+not to look back in heart to the old life which, being regenerated 
+through grace, we have put off, if we think to escape the last judgment? 
+Lot’s wife, indeed, when she looked back, remained, and, being turned 
+into salt, furnished to believing men a condiment by which to savour 
+somewhat the warning to be drawn from that example. Then Abraham 
+did again at Gerar, with Abimelech the king of that city, what he had 
+done in Egypt about his wife, and received her back untouched in the 
+same way. On this occasion, when the king rebuked Abraham for not 
+saying she was his wife, and calling her his sister, he explained what he 
+had been afraid of, and added this further, “And yet indeed she is my 
+sister by the father’s side, but not by the mother’s;”8° for she was 
+Abraham’s sister by his own father, and so near of kin. But her beauty 
+was so great, that even at that advanced age she could be fallen in love 
+with. 
+
+
+31. Of Isaac, who was born according to the promise, whose name was given on account of the 
+
+
+laughter of both parents 
+
+
+After these things a son was born to Abraham, according to God’s 
+promise, of Sarah, and was called Isaac, which means laughter. For his 
+father had laughed when he was promised to him, in wondering delight, 
+
+
+and his mother, when he was again promised by those three men, had 
+laughed, doubting for joy; yet she was blamed by the angel because that 
+laughter, although it was for joy, yet was not full of faith. Afterwards she 
+was confirmed in faith by the same angel. From this, then, the boy got 
+his name. For when Isaac was born and called by that name, Sarah 
+showed that her laughter was not that of scornful reproach, but that of 
+joyful praise; for she said, “God hath made me to laugh, so that every 
+one who hears will laugh with me.”8! Then in a little while the bond 
+maid was cast out of the house with her son; and, according to the 
+apostle, these two women signify the old and new covenants—Sarah 
+representing that of the Jerusalem which is above, that is, the city of 
+God.82 
+
+
+32. Of Abraham’s obedience and faith, which were proved by the offering up of his son in 
+
+
+sacrifice; and of Sarah’s death 
+
+
+Among other things, of which it would take too long time to mention 
+the whole, Abraham was tempted about the offering up of his well- 
+beloved son Isaac, to prove his pious obedience, and so make it known 
+to the world, not to God. Now every temptation is not blameworthy; it 
+may even be praiseworthy, because it furnishes probation. And, for the 
+most part, the human mind cannot attain to self-knowledge otherwise 
+than by making trial of its powers through temptation, by some kind of 
+experimental and not merely verbal self-interrogation; when, if it has 
+acknowledged the gift of God, it is pious, and is consolidated by stedfast 
+grace and not puffed up by vain boasting. Of course Abraham could 
+never believe that God delighted in human sacrifices; yet when the 
+divine commandment thundered, it was to be obeyed, not disputed. Yet 
+Abraham is worthy of praise, because he all along believed that his son, 
+on being offered up, would rise again; for God had said to him, when he 
+was unwilling to fulfil his wife’s pleasure by casting out the bond maid 
+and her son, “In Isaac shall thy seed be called.” No doubt He then goes 
+on to say, “And as for the son of this bond woman, I will make him a 
+great nation, because he is thy seed.”83 How then is it said, “In Isaac 
+shall thy seed be called,” when God calls Ishmael also his seed? The 
+apostle, in explaining this, says, “In Isaac shall thy seed be called, that is, 
+they which are the children of the flesh, these are not the children of 
+God: but the children of the promise are counted for the seed.”84 In 
+
+
+order, then, that the children of the promise may be the seed of 
+Abraham, they are called in Isaac, that is, are gathered together in Christ 
+by the call of grace. Therefore the father, holding fast from the first the 
+promise which behoved to be fulfilled through this son whom God had 
+ordered him to slay, did not doubt that he whom he once thought it 
+hopeless he should ever receive would be restored to him when he had 
+offered him up. It is in this way the passage in the Epistle to the 
+Hebrews is also to be understood and explained. “By faith,” he says, 
+“Abraham overcame, when tempted about Isaac: and he who had 
+received the promise offered up his only son, to whom it was said, In 
+Isaac shall thy seed be called: thinking that God was able to raise him 
+up, even from the dead;” therefore he has added, “from whence also he 
+received him in a similitude.”85 In whose similitude but His of whom the 
+apostle says, “He that spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for 
+us all?”86 And on this account Isaac also himself carried to the place of 
+sacrifice the wood on which he was to be offered up, just as the Lord 
+Himself carried His own cross. Finally, since Isaac was not to be slain, 
+after his father was forbidden to smite him, who was that ram by the 
+offering of which that sacrifice was completed with typical blood? For 
+when Abraham saw him, he was caught by the horns in a thicket. What, 
+then, did he represent but Jesus, who, before He was offered up, was 
+crowned with thorns by the Jews? 
+
+But let us rather hear the divine words spoken through the angel. For 
+the Scripture says, “And Abraham stretched forth his hand to take the 
+knife, that he might slay his son. And the Angel of the Lord called unto 
+him from heaven, and said, Abraham. And he said, Here am I. And he 
+said, Lay not thine hand upon the lad, neither do thou anything unto 
+him: for now I know that thou fearest God, and hast not spared thy 
+beloved son for my sake.”87 It is said, “Now I know,” that is, Now I have 
+made to be known; for God was not previously ignorant of this. Then, 
+having offered up that ram instead of Isaac his son, “Abraham,” as we 
+read, “called the name of that place The Lord seeth: as they say this day, 
+In the mount the Lord hath appeared.”88 As it is said, “Now I know,” for 
+Now I have made to be known, so here, “The Lord sees,” for The Lord 
+hath appeared, that is, made Himself to be seen. “And the Angel of the 
+Lord called unto Abraham from heaven the second time, saying, By 
+myself have I sworn, saith the Lord; because thou hast done this thing, 
+
+
+and hast not spared thy beloved son for my sake; that in blessing I will 
+bless thee, and in multiplying I will multiply thy seed as the stars of 
+heaven, and as the sand which is upon the seashore; and thy seed shall 
+possess by inheritance the cities of the adversaries: and in thy seed shall 
+all the nations of the earth be blessed; because thou hast obeyed my 
+voice.”89 In this manner is that promise concerning the calling of the 
+nations in the seed of Abraham confirmed even by the oath of God, after 
+that burnt-offering which typified Christ. For He had often promised, but 
+never sworn. And what is the oath of God, the true and faithful, but a 
+confirmation of the promise, and a certain reproof to the unbelieving? 
+
+After these things Sarah died, in the 127th year of her life, and the 
+137th of her husband; for he was ten years older than she, as he himself 
+says, when a son is promised to him by her: “Shall a son be born to me 
+that am an hundred years old? and shall Sarah, that is ninety years old, 
+bear?”90 Then Abraham bought a field, in which he buried his wife. And 
+then, according to Stephen’s account, he was settled in that land, 
+entering then on actual possession of it—that is, after the death of his 
+father, who is inferred to have died two years before. 
+
+
+33. Of Rebecca, the grand-daughter of Nahor, whom Isaac took to wife 
+
+
+Isaac married Rebecca, the grand-daughter of Nahor, his father’s 
+brother, when he was forty years old, that is, in the 140th year of his 
+father’s life, three years after his mother’s death. Now when a servant 
+was sent to Mesopotamia by his father to fetch her, and when Abraham 
+said to that servant, “Put thy hand under my thigh, and I will make thee 
+swear by the Lord, the God of heavens, and the Lord of the earth, that 
+thou shalt not take a wife unto my son Isaac of the daughters of the 
+Canaanites,”9! what else was pointed out by this, but that the Lord, the 
+God of heaven, and the Lord of the earth, was to come in the flesh which 
+was to be derived from that thigh? Are these small tokens of the foretold 
+truth which we see fulfilled in Christ? 
+
+
+34. What is meant by Abraham’s marrying Keturah after Sarah’s death 
+
+
+What did Abraham mean by marrying Keturah after Sarah’s death? Far 
+be it from us to suspect him of incontinence, especially when he had 
+reached such an age and such sanctity of faith. Or was he still seeking to 
+
+
+beget children, though he held fast, with most approved faith, the 
+promise of God that his children should be multiplied out of Isaac as the 
+stars of heaven and the dust of the earth? And yet, if Hagar and Ishmael, 
+as the apostle teaches us, signified the carnal people of the old covenant, 
+why may not Keturah and her sons also signify the carnal people who 
+think they belong to the new covenant? For both are called both the 
+wives and the concubines of Abraham; but Sarah is never called a 
+concubine (but only a wife). For when Hagar is given to Abraham, it is 
+written, “And Sarai, Abram’s wife, took Hagar the Egyptian, her 
+handmaid, after Abram had dwelt ten years in the land of Canaan, and 
+gave her to her husband Abram to be his wife.”92 And of Keturah, whom 
+he took after Sarah’s departure, we read, “Then again Abraham took a 
+wife, whose name was Keturah.”93 Lo, both are called wives, yet both 
+are found to have been concubines; for the Scripture afterward says, 
+“And Abraham gave his whole estate unto Isaac his son. But unto the 
+sons of his concubines Abraham gave gifts, and sent them away from his 
+son Isaac, (while he yet lived,) eastward, unto the east country.”94 
+Therefore the sons of the concubines, that is, the heretics and the carnal 
+Jews, have some gifts, but do not attain the promised kingdom; “For 
+they which are the children of the flesh, these are not the children of 
+God: but the children of the promise are counted for the seed, of whom 
+it was said, In Isaac shall thy seed by called.”95 For I do not see why 
+Keturah, who was married after the wife’s death, should be called a 
+concubine, except on account of this mystery. But if any one is unwilling 
+to put such meanings on these things, he need not calumniate Abraham. 
+For what if even this was provided against the heretics who were to be 
+the opponents of second marriages, so that it might be shown that it was 
+no sin in the case of the father of many nations himself, when, after his 
+wife’s death, he married again? And Abraham died when he was 175 
+years old, so that he left his son Isaac seventy-five years old, having 
+begotten him when 100 years old. 
+
+
+35. What was indicated by the divine answer about the twins still shut up in the womb of 
+
+
+Rebecca their mother 
+
+
+Let us now see how the times of the city of God run on from this point 
+among Abraham’s descendants. In the time from the first year of Isaac’s 
+life to the seventieth, when his sons were born, the only memorable 
+
+
+thing is, that when he prayed God that his wife, who was barren, might 
+bear, and the Lord granted what he sought, and she conceived, the twins 
+leapt while still enclosed in her womb. And when she was troubled by 
+this struggle, and inquired of the Lord, she received this answer: “Two 
+nations are in thy womb, and two manner of people shall be separated 
+from thy bowels; and the one people shall overcome the other people, 
+and the elder shall serve the younger.”96 The Apostle Paul would have us 
+understand this as a great instance of grace;97 for the children being not 
+yet born, neither having done any good or evil, the younger is chosen 
+without any good desert, and the elder is rejected, when beyond doubt, 
+as regards original sin, both were alike, and as regards actual sin, neither 
+had any. But the plan of the work on hand does not permit me to speak 
+more fully of this matter now, and I have said much about it in other 
+works. Only that saying, “The elder shall serve the younger,” is 
+understood by our writers, almost without exception, to mean that the 
+elder people, the Jews, shall serve the younger people, the Christians. 
+And truly, although this might seem to be fulfilled in the Idumean 
+nation, which was born of the elder (who had two names, being called 
+both Esau and Edom, whence the name Idumeans), because it was 
+afterwards to be overcome by the people which sprang from the 
+younger, that is, by the Israelites, and was to become subject to them; 
+yet it is more suitable to believe that, when it was said, “The one people 
+shall overcome the other people, and the elder shall serve the younger,” 
+that prophecy meant some greater thing; and what is that except what is 
+evidently fulfilled in the Jews and Christians? 
+
+
+36. Of the oracle and blessing which Isaac received, just as his father did, being beloved for his 
+sake 
+
+
+Isaac also received such an oracle as his father had often received. Of 
+this oracle it is thus written: “And there was a famine over the land, 
+beside the first famine that was in the days of Abraham. And Isaac went 
+unto Abimelech king of the Philistines unto Gerar. And the Lord 
+appeared unto him, and said, Go not down into Egypt; but dwell in the 
+land which I shall tell thee of. And abide in this land, and I will be with 
+thee, and will bless thee: unto thee and unto thy seed I will give all this 
+land; and I will establish mine oath, which I sware unto Abraham thy 
+father: and I will multiply thy seed as the stars of heaven, and will give 
+
+
+unto thy seed all this land: and in thy seed shall all the nations of the 
+earth be blessed; because that Abraham thy father obeyed my voice, and 
+kept my precepts, my commandments, my righteousness, and my 
+laws.”98 This patriarch neither had another wife, nor any concubine, but 
+was content with the twin-children begotten by one act of generation. 
+He also was afraid, when he lived among strangers, of being brought 
+into danger owing to the beauty of his wife, and did like his father in 
+calling her his sister, and not telling that she was his wife; for she was 
+his near blood-relation by the father’s and mother’s side. She also 
+remained untouched by the strangers, when it was known she was his 
+wife. Yet we ought not to prefer him to his father because he knew no 
+woman besides his one wife. For beyond doubt the merits of his father’s 
+faith and obedience were greater, inasmuch as God says it is for his sake 
+He does Isaac good: “In thy seed,” He says, “shall all the nations of the 
+earth be blessed, because that Abraham thy father obeyed my voice, and 
+kept my precepts, my commandments, my statutes, and my laws.” And 
+again in another oracle He says, “I am the God of Abraham thy father: 
+fear not, for I am with thee, and will bless thee, and multiply thy seed 
+for my servant Abraham’s sake.”99 So that we must understand how 
+chastely Abraham acted, because imprudent men, who seek some 
+support for their own wickedness in the Holy Scriptures, think he acted 
+through lust. We may also learn this, not to compare men by single good 
+things, but to consider everything in each; for it may happen that one 
+man has something in his life and character in which he excels another, 
+and it may be far more excellent than that in which the other excels him. 
+And thus, according to sound and true judgment, while continence is 
+preferable to marriage, yet a believing married man is better than a 
+continent unbeliever; for the unbeliever is not only less praiseworthy, 
+but is even highly detestable. We must conclude, then, that both are 
+good; yet so as to hold that the married man who is most faithful and 
+most obedient is certainly better than the continent man whose faith and 
+obedience are less. But if equal in other things, who would hesitate to 
+prefer the continent man to the married? 
+
+
+37. Of the things mystically prefigured in Esau and Jacob 
+
+
+Isaac’s two sons, Esau and Jacob, grew up together. The primacy of 
+the elder was transferred to the younger by a bargain and agreement 
+
+
+between them, when the elder immoderately lusted after the lentiles the 
+younger had prepared for food, and for that price sold his birthright to 
+him, confirming it with an oath. We learn from this that a person is to be 
+blamed, not for the kind of food he eats, but for immoderate greed. Isaac 
+grew old, and old age deprived him of his eyesight. He wished to bless 
+the elder son, and instead of the elder, who was hairy, unwittingly 
+blessed the younger, who put himself under his father’s hands, having 
+covered himself with kid-skins, as if bearing the sins of others. Lest we 
+should think this guile of Jacob’s was fraudulent guile, instead of seeking 
+in it the mystery of a great thing, the Scripture has predicted in the 
+words just before, “Esau was a cunning hunter, a man of the field; and 
+Jacob was a simple man, dwelling at home.”!90 Some of our writers have 
+interpreted this, “without guile.” But whether the Greek &Aasto¢ means 
+“without guile,” or “simple,” or rather “without feigning,” in the 
+receiving of that blessing what is the guile of the man without guile? 
+What is the guile of the simple, what the fiction of the man who does not 
+lie, but a profound mystery of the truth? But what is the blessing itself? 
+“See,” he says, “the smell of my son is as the smell of a full field which 
+the Lord hath blessed: therefore God give thee of the dew of heaven, and 
+of the fruitfulness of the earth, and plenty of corn and wine: let nations 
+serve thee, and princes adore thee: and be lord of thy brethren, and let 
+thy father’s sons adore thee: cursed be he that curseth thee, and blessed 
+be he that blesseth thee.”101 The blessing of Jacob is therefore a 
+proclamation of Christ to all nations. It is this which has come to pass, 
+and is now being fulfilled. Isaac is the law and the prophecy: even by the 
+mouth of the Jews Christ is blessed by prophecy as by one who knows 
+not, because it is itself not understood. The world like a field is filled 
+with the odour of Christ’s name: His is the blessing of the dew of heaven, 
+that is, of the showers of divine words; and of the fruitfulness of the 
+earth, that is, of the gathering together of the peoples: His is the plenty 
+of corn and wine, that is, the multitude that gathers bread and wine in 
+the sacrament of His body and blood. Him the nations serve, Him 
+princes adore. He is the Lord of His brethren, because His people rules 
+over the Jews. Him His Father’s sons adore, that is, the son of Abraham 
+according to the flesh. He is cursed that curseth Him, and he that 
+blesseth Him is blessed. Christ, I say, who is ours is blessed, that is, truly 
+spoken of out of the mouths of the Jews, when, although erring, they yet 
+
+
+sing the law and the prophets, and think they are blessing another for 
+whom they erringly hope. So, when the elder son claims the promised 
+blessing, Isaac is greatly afraid, and wonders when he knows that he has 
+blessed one instead of the other, and demands who he is; yet he does not 
+complain that he has been deceived, yea, when the great mystery is 
+revealed to him, in his secret heart he at once eschews angers, and 
+confirms the blessing. “Who then,” he says, “hath hunted me venison, 
+and brought it me, and I have eaten of all before thou camest, and have 
+blessed him, and he shall be blessed?”!92 Who would not rather have 
+expected the curse of an angry man here, if these things had been done 
+in an earthly manner, and not by inspiration from above? Of things 
+done, yet done prophetically; on the earth, yet celestially; by men, yet 
+divinely! If everything that is fertile of so great mysteries should be 
+examined carefully, many volumes would be filled; but the moderate 
+compass fixed for this work compels us to hasten to other things. 
+
+
+38. Of, Jacob’s mission to Mesopotamia to get a wife, and of the vision which he saw in a dream 
+
+
+by the way, and of his getting four women when he sought one wife 
+
+
+Jacob was sent by his parents to Mesopotamia that he might take a 
+wife there. These were his father’s words on sending him: “Thou shalt 
+not take a wife of the daughters of the Canaanites. Arise, fly to 
+Mesopotamia, to the house of Bethuel, thy mother’s father, and take thee 
+a wife from thence of the daughters of Laban thy mother’s brother. And 
+may God bless thee, and increase thee, and multiply thee; and thou shalt 
+be an assembly of peoples; and give to thee the blessing of Abraham thy 
+father, and to thy seed after thee; that thou mayest inherit the land 
+wherein thou dwellest, which God gave unto Abraham.”!03 Now we 
+understand here that the seed of Jacob is separated from Isaac’s other 
+seed which came through Esau. For when it is said, “In Isaac shall thy 
+seed be called,”!94 by this seed is meant solely the city of God; so that 
+from it is separated Abraham’s other seed, which was in the son of the 
+bond woman, and which was to be in the sons of Keturah. But until now 
+it had been uncertain regarding Isaac’s twin-sons whether that blessing 
+belonged to both or only to one of them; and if to one, which of them it 
+was. This is now declared when Jacob is prophetically blessed by his 
+father, and it is said to him, “And thou shalt be an assembly of peoples, 
+and God give to thee the blessing of Abraham thy father.” 
+
+
+When Jacob was going to Mesopotamia, he received in a dream an 
+oracle, of which it is thus written: “And Jacob went out from the well of 
+the oath,195 and went to Haran. And he came to a place, and slept there, 
+for the sun was set; and he took of the stones of the place, and put them 
+at his head, and slept in that place, and dreamed. And behold a ladder 
+set up on the earth, and the top of it reached to heaven; and the angels 
+of God ascended and descended by it. And the Lord stood above it, and 
+said, Iam the God of Abraham thy father, and the God of Isaac; fear not: 
+the land whereon thou sleepest, to thee will I give it, and to thy seed; 
+and thy seed shall be as the dust of the earth; and it shall be spread 
+abroad to the sea, and to Africa, and to the north, and to the east: and all 
+the tribes of the earth shall be blessed in thee and in thy seed. And, 
+behold, I am with thee, to keep thee in all thy way wherever thou goest, 
+and I will bring thee back into this land; for I will not leave thee, until I 
+have done all which I have spoken to thee of. And Jacob awoke out of 
+his sleep, and said, Surely the Lord is in this place, and I knew it not. 
+And he was afraid, and said, How dreadful is this place! this is none 
+other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven. And Jacob 
+arose, and took the stone that he had put under his head there, and set it 
+up for a memorial, and poured oil upon the top of it. And Jacob called 
+the name of that place the house of God.”196 This is prophetic. For Jacob 
+did not pour oil on the stone in an idolatrous way, as if making it a god; 
+neither did he adore that stone, or sacrifice to it. But since the name of 
+Christ comes from the chrism or anointing, something pertaining to the 
+great mystery was certainly represented in this. And the Saviour Himself 
+is understood to bring this latter to remembrance in the gospel, when He 
+says of Nathanael, “Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile!”107 
+because Israel who saw this vision is no other than Jacob. And in the 
+same place He says, “Verily, verily, I say unto you, Ye shall see heaven 
+open, and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of 
+man.” 
+
+Jacob went on to Mesopotamia to take a wife from thence. And the 
+divine Scripture points out how, without unlawfully desiring any of 
+them, he came to have four women, of whom he begat twelve sons and 
+one daughter; for he had come to take only one. But when one was 
+falsely given him in place of the other, he did not send her away after 
+unwittingly using her in the night, lest he should seem to have put her to 
+
+
+shame; but as at that time, in order to multiply posterity, no law forbade 
+a plurality of wives, he took her also to whom alone he had promised 
+marriage. As she was barren, she gave her handmaid to her husband that 
+she might have children by her; and her elder sister did the same thing 
+in imitation of her, although she had borne, because she desired to 
+multiply progeny. We do not read that Jacob sought any but one, or that 
+he used many, except for the purpose of begetting offspring, saving 
+conjugal rights; and he would not have done this, had not his wives, 
+who had legitimate power over their own husband’s body, urged him to 
+do it. So he begat twelve sons and one daughter by four women. Then he 
+entered into Egypt by his son Joseph, who was sold by his brethren for 
+envy, and carried there, and who was there exalted. 
+
+
+39. The reason why Jacob was also called Israel 
+
+
+As I said a little ago, Jacob was also called Israel, the name which was 
+most prevalent among the people descended from him. Now this name 
+was given him by the angel who wrestled with him on the way back 
+from Mesopotamia, and who was most evidently a type of Christ. For 
+when Jacob overcame him, doubtless with his own consent, that the 
+mystery might be represented, it signified Christ’s passion, in which the 
+Jews are seen overcoming Him. And yet he besought a blessing from the 
+very angel he had overcome; and so the imposition of this name was the 
+blessing. For Israel means seeing God,!98 which will at last be the reward 
+of all the saints. The angel also touched him on the breadth of the thigh 
+when he was overcoming him, and in that way made him lame. So that 
+Jacob was at one and the same time blessed and lame: blessed in those 
+among that people who believed in Christ, and lame in the unbelieving. 
+For the breadth of the thigh is the multitude of the family. For there are 
+many of that race of whom it was prophetically said beforehand, “And 
+they have halted in their paths.”109 
+
+
+40. How it is said that Jacob went into Egypt with seventy-five souls, when most of those who 
+
+
+are mentioned were born at a later period 
+
+
+Seventy-five men are reported to have entered Egypt along with 
+Jacob, counting him with his children. In this number only two women 
+are mentioned, one a daughter, the other a grand-daughter. But when 
+
+
+the thing is carefully considered, it does not appear that Jacob’s 
+offspring was so numerous on the day or year when he entered Egypt. 
+There are also included among them the great-grandchildren of Joseph, 
+who could not possibly be born already. For Jacob was then 130 years 
+old, and his son Joseph thirty-nine; and as it is plain that he took a wife 
+when he was thirty or more, how could he in nine years have great- 
+grandchildren by the children whom he had by that wife? Now, since 
+Ephraim and Manasseh, the sons of Joseph, could not even have 
+children, for Jacob found them boys under nine years old when he 
+entered Egypt, in what way are not only their sons but their grandsons 
+reckoned among those seventy-five who then entered Egypt with Jacob? 
+For there is reckoned there Machir the son of Manasseh, grandson of 
+Joseph, and Machir’s son, that is, Gilead, grandson of Manasseh, great- 
+grandson of Joseph; there, too, is he whom Ephraim, Joseph’s other son, 
+begot, that is, Shuthelah, grandson of Joseph, and Shuthelah’s son Ezer, 
+grandson of Ephraim, and great-grandson of Joseph, who could not 
+possibly be in existence when Jacob came into Egypt, and there found 
+his grandsons, the sons of Joseph, their grandsires, still boys under nine 
+years of age.110 But doubtless, when the Scripture mentions Jacob’s 
+entrance into Egypt with seventy-five souls, it does not mean one day, or 
+one year, but that whole time as long as Joseph lived, who was the cause 
+of his entrance. For the same Scripture speaks thus of Joseph: “And 
+Joseph dwelt in Egypt, he and his brethren, and all his father’s house: 
+and Joseph lived 110 years, and saw Ephraim’s children of the third 
+generation.”!11 That is, his great-grandson, the third from Ephraim; for 
+the third generation means son, grandson, great-grandson. Then it is 
+added, “The children also of Machir, the son of Manasseh, were born 
+upon Joseph’s knees.”112 And this is that grandson of Manasseh, and 
+great-grandson of Joseph. But the plural number is employed according 
+to scriptural usage; for the one daughter of Jacob is spoken of as 
+daughters, just as in the usage of the Latin tongue liberi is used in the 
+plural for children even when there is only one. Now, when Joseph’s 
+own happiness is proclaimed, because he could see his great- 
+grandchildren, it is by no means to be thought they already existed in 
+the thirty-ninth year of their great-grandsire Joseph, when his father 
+Jacob came to him in Egypt. But those who diligently look into these 
+things will the less easily be mistaken, because it is written, “These are 
+
+
+the names of the sons of Israel who entered into Egypt along with Jacob 
+their father.”!13 For this means that the seventy-five are reckoned along 
+with him, not that they were all with him when he entered Egypt; for, as 
+I have said, the whole period during which Joseph, who occasioned his 
+entrance, lived, is held to be the time of that entrance. 
+
+
+41. Of the blessing which Jacob promised in Judah his son 
+
+
+If, on account of the Christian people in whom the city of God 
+sojourns in the earth, we look for the flesh of Christ in the seed of 
+Abraham, setting aside the sons of the concubines, we have Isaac; if in 
+the seed of Isaac, setting aside Esau, who is also Edom, we have Jacob, 
+who also is Israel; if in the seed of Israel himself, setting aside the rest, 
+we have Judah, because Christ sprang of the tribe of Judah. Let us hear, 
+then, how Israel, when dying in Egypt, in blessing his sons, prophetically 
+blessed Judah. He says: “Judah, thy brethren shall praise thee: thy hands 
+shall be on the back of thine enemies; thy father’s children shall adore 
+thee. Judah is a lion’s whelp: from the sprouting, my son, thou art gone 
+up: lying down, thou hast slept as a lion, and as a lion’s whelp; who shall 
+awake him? A prince shall not be lacking out of Judah, and a leader 
+from his thighs, until the things come that are laid up for him; and He 
+shall be the expectation of the nations. Binding his foal unto the vine, 
+and his ass’s foal to the choice vine; he shall wash his robe in wine, and 
+his clothes in the blood of the grape: his eyes are red with wine, and his 
+teeth are whiter than milk.”!14 I have expounded these words in 
+disputing against Faustus the Manichean; and I think it is enough to 
+make the truth of this prophecy shine, to remark that the death of Christ 
+is predicted by the word about his lying down, and not the necessity, but 
+the voluntary character of His death, in the title of lion. That power He 
+Himself proclaims in the gospel, saying, “I have the power of laying 
+down my life, and I have the power of taking it again. No man taketh it 
+from me; but I lay it down of myself, and take it again.”!15 So the lion 
+roared, so He fulfilled what He said. For to this power what is added 
+about the resurrection refers, “Who shall awake him?” This means that 
+no man but Himself has raised Him, who also said of His own body, 
+“Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.”116 And the 
+very nature of His death, that is, the height of the cross, is understood by 
+the single word, “Thou art gone up.” The evangelist explains what is 
+
+
+added, “Lying down, thou hast slept,” when he says, “He bowed His 
+head, and gave up the ghost.”!17 Or at least His burial is to be 
+understood, in which He lay down sleeping, and whence no man raised 
+Him, as the prophets did some, and as He Himself did others; but He 
+Himself rose up as if from sleep. As for His robe which He washes in 
+wine, that is, cleanses from sin in His own blood, of which blood those 
+who are baptized know the mystery, so that he adds, “And his clothes in 
+the blood of the grape,” what is it but the Church? “And his eyes are red 
+with wine,” [these are] His spiritual people drunken with His cup, of 
+which the psalm sings, “And thy cup that makes drunken, how excellent 
+it is!” “And his teeth are whiter than milk.”!!8—that is, the nutritive 
+words which, according to the apostle, the babes drink, being as yet 
+unfit for solid food.119 And it is He in whom the promises of Judah were 
+laid up, so that until they come, princes, that is, the kings of Israel, shall 
+never be lacking out of Judah. “And He is the expectation of the 
+nations.” This is too plain to need exposition. 
+
+
+42. Of the sons of Joseph, whom Jacob blessed, prophetically changing his hands 
+
+
+Now, as Isaac’s two sons, Esau and Jacob, furnished a type of the two 
+people, the Jews and the Christians (although as pertains to carnal 
+descent it was not the Jews but the Idumeans who came of the seed of 
+Esau, nor the Christian nations but rather the Jews who came of Jacob’s; 
+for the type holds only as regards the saying, “The elder shall serve the 
+younger”!20), so the same thing happened in Joseph’s two sons; for the 
+elder was a type of the Jews, and the younger of the Christians. For 
+when Jacob was blessing them, and laid his right hand on the younger, 
+who was at his left, and his left hand on the elder, who was at his right, 
+this seemed wrong to their father, and he admonished his father by 
+trying to correct his mistake and show him which was the elder. But he 
+would not change his hands, but said, “I know, my son, I know. He also 
+shall become a people, and he also shall be exalted; but his younger 
+brother shall be greater than he, and his seed shall become a multitude 
+of nations.”!21 And these two promises show the same thing. For that 
+one is to become “a people;” this one “a multitude of nations.” And what 
+can be more evident than that these two promises comprehend the 
+people of Israel, and the whole world of Abraham’s seed, the one 
+according to the flesh, the other according to faith? 
+
+
+43. Of the times of Moses and Joshua the son of Nun, of the judges, and there after of the kings, of 
+whom Saul was the first, but David is to be regarded as the chief, both by the oath and by merit 
+
+
+Jacob being dead, and Joseph also, during the remaining 144 years 
+until they went out of the land of Egypt that nation increased to an 
+incredible degree, even although wasted by so great persecutions, that at 
+one time the male children were murdered at their birth, because the 
+wondering Egyptians were terrified at the too great increase of that 
+people. Then Moses, being stealthily kept from the murderers of the 
+infants, was brought to the royal house, God preparing to do great things 
+by him, and was nursed and adopted by the daughter of Pharaoh (that 
+was the name of all the kings of Egypt), and became so great a man that 
+he—yea, rather God, who had promised this to Abraham, by him—drew 
+that nation, so wonderfully multiplied, out of the yoke of hardest and 
+most grievous servitude it had borne there. At first, indeed, he fled 
+thence (we are told he fled into the land of Midian), because, in 
+defending an Israelite, he had slain an Egyptian, and was afraid. 
+Afterward, being divinely commissioned in the power of the Spirit of 
+God, he overcame the magi of Pharaoh who resisted him. Then, when 
+the Egyptians would not let God’s people go, ten memorable plagues 
+were brought by Him upon them—the water turned into blood, the frogs 
+and lice, the flies, the death of the cattle, the boils, the hail, the locusts, 
+the darkness, the death of the first-born. At last the Egyptians were 
+destroyed in the Red Sea while pursuing the Israelites, whom they had 
+let go when at length they were broken by so many great plagues. The 
+divided sea made a way for the Israelites who were departing, but, 
+returning on itself, it overwhelmed their pursuers with its waves. Then 
+for forty years the people of God went through the desert, under the 
+leadership of Moses, when the tabernacle of testimony was dedicated, in 
+which God was worshipped by sacrifices prophetic of things to come, 
+and that was after the law had been very terribly given in the mount, for 
+its divinity was most plainly attested by wonderful signs and voices. This 
+took place soon after the exodus from Egypt, when the people had 
+entered the desert, on the fiftieth day after the passover was celebrated 
+by the offering up of a lamb, which is so completely a type of Christ, 
+foretelling that through His sacrificial passion He should go from this 
+world to the Father (for pascha in the Hebrew tongue means transit), that 
+
+
+when the new covenant was revealed, after Christ our passover was 
+offered up, the Holy Spirit came from heaven on the fiftieth day; and He 
+is called in the gospel the Finger of God, because He recalls to our 
+remembrance the things done before by way of types, and because the 
+tables of that law are said to have been written by the finger of God. 
+
+On the death of Moses, Joshua the son of Nun ruled the people, and 
+led them into the land of promise, and divided it among them. By these 
+two wonderful leaders wars were also carried on most prosperously and 
+wonderfully, God calling to witness that they had got these victories not 
+so much on account of the merit of the Hebrew people as on account of 
+the sins of the nations they subdued. After these leaders there were 
+judges, when the people were settled in the land of promise, so that, in 
+the meantime, the first promise made to Abraham began to be fulfilled 
+about the one nation, that is, the Hebrew, and about the land of Canaan; 
+but not as yet the promise about all nations, and the whole wide world, 
+for that was to be fulfilled, not by the observances of the old law, but by 
+the advent of Christ in the flesh, and by the faith of the gospel. And it 
+was to prefigure this that it was not Moses, who received the law for the 
+people on Mount Sinai, that led the people into the land of promise, but 
+Joshua, whose name also was changed at God’s command, so that he 
+was called Jesus. But in the times of the judges prosperity alternated 
+with adversity in war, according as the sins of the people and the mercy 
+of God were displayed. 
+
+We come next to the times of the kings. The first who reigned was 
+Saul; and when he was rejected and laid low in battle and his offspring 
+rejected so that no kings should arise out of it, David succeeded to the 
+kingdom, whose son Christ is chiefly called. He was made a kind of 
+starting-point and beginning of the advanced youth of God’s people, who 
+had passed a kind of age of puberty from Abraham to this David. And it 
+is not in vain that the evangelist Matthew records the generations in 
+such a way as to sum up this first period from Abraham to David in 
+fourteen generations. For from the age of puberty man begins to be 
+capable of generation; therefore he starts the list of generations from 
+Abraham, who also was made the father of many nations when he got 
+his name changed. So that previously this family of God’s people was in 
+its childhood, from Noah to Abraham; and for that reason the first 
+language was then learned, that is, the Hebrew. For man begins to speak 
+
+
+in childhood, the age succeeding infancy, which is so termed because 
+then he cannot speak.122 And that first age is quite drowned in oblivion, 
+just as the first age of the human race was blotted out by the flood; for 
+who is there that can remember his infancy? Wherefore in this progress 
+of the city of God, as the previous book contained that first age, so this 
+one ought to contain the second and third ages, in which third age, as 
+was shown by the heifer of three years old, the she-goat of three years 
+old, and the ram of three years old, the yoke of the law was imposed, 
+and there appeared abundance of sins, and the beginning of the earthly 
+kingdom arose, in which there were not lacking spiritual men, of whom 
+the turtle-dove and pigeon represented the mystery. 
+
+
+1 Gen. ix. 25. 
+
+2 Gen. ix. 26, 27. 
+
+3 See Contra Faust. xii. c. 22 sqq. 
+4 Song of Solomon i. 3. 
+5 1 Cor. xi. 19. 
+
+6 Prov. x. 5 (LXX.). 
+
+7 Matt. vii. 20. 
+
+8 Phil. i. 18. 
+
+9 Isa. v. 7. 
+
+10 Matt. xx. 22. 
+
+11 Matt. xxvi. 39. 
+
+12 2 Cor. xiii. 4. 
+
+13 1 Cor. i. 25. 
+
+
+14 Augustine here follows the Greek version, which introduces the name Elisa among the sons of 
+Japheth, though not found in the Hebrew. It is not found in the Complutensian Greek translation, 
+
+
+nor in the MSS. used by Jerome. 
+15 Gen. x. 21. 
+
+16 Gen. xi. 1-9. 
+
+17 Ex. x, 
+
+18 Ps., xcv. 6. 
+
+19 Job. xv. 13. 
+
+
+20 1 Cor. iii. 9. 
+
+
+21 Gen. i. 26. 
+
+22 Gen. xi. 6. 
+
+23 Virgil, Aineid, iv. 592. 
+
+24 Here Augustine remarks on the addition of the particle ne to the word non, which he has made 
+to bring out the sense. 
+
+25 Gen. i. 24. 
+
+26 Pliny, Hist. Nat. vii. 2; Aulus Gellius, Noct. Att. ix. 4. 
+
+27 From vys, a cubit. 
+28 Gen. x. 25. 
+
+29 Ps, xiv. 3, 4, liii. 3, 4. 
+30 Gen. x. 25. 
+
+31 Josh. xxiv. 2. 
+
+32 Gen. xi. 27-29. 
+
+33 Gen. xi. 31. 
+
+34 Gen. xxiv. 10. 
+
+35 Judith v. 5-9. 
+
+36 Gen. xi. 32. 
+
+37 Gen. xii. 1. 
+
+38 Gen. xii. 4. 
+
+39 Gen. xi. 1. 
+
+40 Gen. xii. 1. 
+
+41 Acts vii. 2. 3. 
+
+42 Acts vii. 4. 
+
+43 Gen. xii. 1. 
+
+44 Various reading, “of our Lord Jesus Christ.” 
+45 Gen. xii. 1-3. 
+
+46 Acts vii. 2. 
+
+47 Gen. xii. 7. 
+
+48 Gen. xiii. 8, 9. 
+
+49 Gen. xiii. 14-17. 
+
+
+50 Various reading, “the express promise.” 
+
+
+51 Ps. cx. 4. 
+
+52 Rom. iv. 3; Gen. xv. 6. 
+
+53 Gen. xv. 7. 
+
+54 Gen. xv. 9-21. 
+
+55 Luke i. 34. 
+
+56 Luke i. 35. 
+
+57 Various reading, “who are to remain.” 
+58 Matt. xxiv. 21. 
+
+59 Gen. xi. 32. 
+
+60 Gal. iii. 17. 
+
+61 1 Cor. vii. 4. 
+
+62 Gen. xvi. 6. 
+
+63 Gen. xv. 4. 
+
+64 Gen. xvii. 1-22. The passage is given in full by Augustine. 
+65 Gen. xvii. 14. 
+
+66 Rom. v. 12, 19. 
+
+67 Gen. ii. 17. 
+
+68 Ecclus. xv. 17. 
+
+69 Rom. iv. 15. 
+
+70 Ps, cxix. 119. Augustine and the Vulgate follow the LXX. 
+71 Gen. xvii. 5, 6, 16. 
+
+72 Heb. xi. 11. 
+
+73 Heb. xi. 12. 
+
+74 Gen. xviii. 2, 3. 
+
+75 Gen. xix. 2. 
+
+76 Gen. xix. 16-19. 
+
+77 Gen, xix. 21. 
+
+78 Heb. xiii. 2. 
+
+79 Gen. xviii. 18. 
+
+80 Gen. xx. 12. 
+
+
+81 Gen. xxi. 6. 
+
+
+82 Gal. iv. 24-26. 
+
+83 Gen. xxi. 12, 13. 
+84 Rom. ix. 7, 8. 
+
+85 Heb. xi. 17-19. 
+
+86 Rom. viii. 32. 
+
+87 Gen. xxii. 10-12. 
+88 Gen. xxii. 14. 
+
+89 Gen. xxii. 15-18. 
+90 Gen. xvii. 17. 
+
+91 Gen. xxiv. 2, 3. 
+
+92 Gen. xvi. 3. 
+
+93 Gen. xxv. 1. 
+
+94 Gen. xxv. 5, 6. 
+
+95 Rom. ix. 7, 8. 
+
+96 Gen. xxv. 23. 
+
+97 Rom. ix. 10-13. 
+
+98 Gen. xxvi. 1-5. 
+
+99 Gen. xxvi. 24. 
+
+100 Gen. xxv. 27. 
+
+101 Gen. xxvii. 27-29. 
+103 Gen, xxviii. 1-4. 
+102 Gen. xxvii. 33. 
+
+104 Gen. xxi. 12. 
+
+105 Beer-Sheba. 
+
+106 Gen. xxviii. 10-19. 
+107 John i. 47, 51. 
+108 Gen. xxxii. 28: Israel = “a prince of God;” ver. 30: Peniel = “the face of God.” 
+109 Ps, xviii. 45. 
+
+
+110 Augustine here follows the Septuagint, which at Gen. xlvi. 20 adds these names to those of 
+
+
+Manasseh and Ephraim, and at ver. 27 gives the whole number as seventy-five. 
+
+
+111 Gen. 1. 22, 23. 
+
+
+112 Gen. 1. 23. 
+
+113 Gen. xlvi. 8. 
+
+114 Gen. xlix. 8-12. 
+
+115 John x. 18. 
+
+116 John ii. 19. 
+
+117 John xix. 30. 
+
+118 Gen. xlix. 12. 
+
+119] Pet. ii. 2; 1 Cor. iii. 2 
+120 Gen. xxv. 23. 
+
+121 Gen. xlviii. 19. 
+
+
+122 Infans, from in, not, and fari, to speak. 
+
+
+BOOK SEVENTEENTH 
+
+
+ARGUMENT 
+
+
+IN THIS BOOK THE HISTORY OF THE CITY OF GOD IS TRACED DURING THE PERIOD OF THE KINGS AND 
+PROPHETS FROM SAMUEL TO DAVID, EVEN TO CHRIST; AND THE PROPHECIES WHICH ARE RECORDED IN 
+THE BOOKS OF KINGS, PSALMS, AND THOSE OF SOLOMON, ARE INTERPRETED OF CHRIST AND THE 
+CHURCH. 
+
+
+1. Of the prophetic age 
+
+
+y the favour of God we have treated distinctly of His promises made 
+
+to Abraham, that both the nation of Israel according to the flesh, and 
+all nations according to faith, should be his seed, and the city of God, 
+proceeding according to the order of time, will point! out how they were 
+fulfilled. Having therefore in the previous book come down to the reign 
+of David, we shall now treat of what remains, so far as may seem 
+sufficient for the object of this work, beginning at the same reign. Now, 
+from the time when holy Samuel began to prophesy, and ever onward 
+until the people of Israel was led captive into Babylonia, and until, 
+according to the prophecy of holy Jeremiah, on Israel’s return thence 
+after seventy years, the house of God was built anew, this whole period 
+is the prophetic age. For although both the patriarch Noah himself, in 
+whose days the whole earth was destroyed by the flood, and others 
+before and after him down to this time when there began to be kings 
+over the people of God, may not undeservedly be styled prophets, on 
+account of certain things pertaining to the city of God and the kingdom 
+of heaven, which they either predicted or in any way signified should 
+come to pass, and especially since we read that some of them, as 
+Abraham and Moses, were expressly so styled, yet those are most and 
+chiefly called the days of the prophets from the time when Samuel began 
+to prophesy, who at God’s command first anointed Saul to be king, and, 
+on his rejection, David himself, whom others of his issue should succeed 
+as long as it was fitting they should do so. If, therefore, I wished to 
+
+
+rehearse all that the prophets have predicted concerning Christ, while 
+the city of God, with its members dying and being born in constant 
+succession, ran its course through those times, this work would extend 
+beyond all bounds. First, because the Scripture itself, even when, in 
+treating in order of the kings and of their deeds and the events of their 
+reigns, it seems to be occupied in narrating as with historical diligence 
+the affairs transacted, will be found, if the things handled by it are 
+considered with the aid of the Spirit of God, either more, or certainly not 
+less, intent on foretelling things to come than on relating things past. 
+And who that thinks even a little about it does not know how laborious 
+and prolix a work it would be, and how many volumes it would require 
+to search this out by thorough investigation and demonstrate it by 
+argument? And then, because of that which without dispute pertains to 
+prophecy, there are so many things concerning Christ and the kingdom 
+of heaven, which is the city of God, that to explain these a larger 
+discussion would be necessary than the due proportion of this work 
+admits of. Therefore I shall, if I can, so limit myself, that in carrying 
+through this work, I may, with God’s help, neither say what is 
+superfluous nor omit what is necessary. 
+
+
+2. At what time the promise of God was fulfilled concerning the land of Canaan, which even 
+
+
+carnal Israel got in possession 
+
+
+In the preceding book we said, that in the promise of God to Abraham 
+two things were promised from the beginning, the one, namely, that his 
+seed should possess the land of Canaan, which was intimated when it 
+was said, “Go into a land that I will show thee, and I will make of thee a 
+great nation;”2 but the other far more excellent, concerning not the 
+carnal but the spiritual seed, by which he is the father, not of the one 
+nation of Israel, but of all nations who follow the footsteps of his faith, 
+which began to be promised in these words, “And in thee shall all 
+families of the earth be blessed.”3 And thereafter we showed by yet 
+many other proofs that these two things were promised. Therefore the 
+seed of Abraham, that is, the people of Israel according to the flesh, 
+already was in the land of promise; and there, not only by holding and 
+possessing the cities of the enemies, but also by having kings, had 
+already begun to reign, the promises of God concerning that people 
+being already in great part fulfilled: not only those that were made to 
+
+
+those three fathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and whatever others 
+were made in their times, but those also that were made through Moses 
+himself, by whom the same people was set free from servitude in Egypt, 
+and by whom all bygone things were revealed in his times, when he led 
+the people through the wilderness. But neither by the illustrious leader 
+Jesus the son of Nun, who led that people into the land of promise, and, 
+after driving out the nations, divided it among the twelve tribes 
+according to God’s command, and died; nor after him, in the whole time 
+of the judges, was the promise of God concerning the land of Canaan 
+fulfilled, that it should extend from some river of Egypt even to the great 
+river Euphrates; nor yet was it still prophesied as to come, but its 
+fulfilment was expected. And it was fulfilled through David, and 
+Solomon his son, whose kingdom was extended over the whole promised 
+space; for they subdued all those nations, and made them tributary. And 
+thus, under those kings, the seed of Abraham was established in the land 
+of promise according to the flesh, that is, in the land of Canaan, so that 
+nothing yet remained to the complete fulfilment of that earthly promise 
+of God, except that, so far as pertains to temporal prosperity, the Hebrew 
+nation should remain in the same land by the succession of posterity in 
+an unshaken state even to the end of this mortal age, if it obeyed the 
+laws of the Lord its God. But since God knew it would not do this, He 
+used His temporal punishments also for training His few faithful ones in 
+it, and for giving needful warning to those who should afterwards be in 
+all nations, in whom the other promise, revealed in the New Testament, 
+was about to be fulfilled through the incarnation of Christ. 
+
+
+3. Of the threefold meaning of the prophecies, which are to be referred now to the earthly, now 
+
+
+to the heavenly Jerusalem, and now again to both 
+
+
+Wherefore just as that divine oracle to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and 
+all the other prophetic signs or sayings which are given in the earlier 
+sacred writings, so also the other prophecies from this time of the kings 
+pertain partly to the nation of Abraham’s flesh, and partly to that seed of 
+his in which all nations are blessed as fellow-heirs of Christ by the New 
+Testament, to the possessing of eternal life and the kingdom of the 
+heavens. Therefore they pertain partly to the bond maid who gendereth 
+to bondage, that is, the earthly Jerusalem, which is in bondage with her 
+children; but partly to the free city of God, that is, the true Jerusalem 
+
+
+eternal in the heavens, whose children are all those that live according 
+to God in the earth: but there are some things among them which are 
+understood to pertain to both—to the bond maid properly, to the free 
+woman figuratively. 
+
+Therefore prophetic utterances of three kinds are to be found; 
+forasmuch as there are some relating to the earthly Jerusalem, some to 
+the heavenly, and some to both. I think it proper to prove what I say by 
+examples. The prophet Nathan was sent to convict king David of heinous 
+sin, and predict to him what future evils should be consequent on it. 
+Who can question that this and the like pertain to the terrestrial city, 
+whether publicly, that is, for the safety or help of the people, or 
+privately, when there are given forth for each one’s private good divine 
+utterances whereby something of the future may be known for the use of 
+temporal life? But where we read, “Behold, the days come, saith the 
+Lord, that I will make for the house of Israel, and for the house of Judah, 
+a new testament: not according to the testament that I settled for their 
+fathers in the day when I laid hold of their hand to lead them out of the 
+land of Egypt; because they continued not in my testament, and I 
+regarded them not, saith the Lord. For this is the testament that I will 
+make for the house of Israel: after those days, saith the Lord, I will give 
+my laws in their mind, and will write them upon their hearts, and I will 
+see to them; and I will be to them a God, and they shall be to me a 
+people;”5—without doubt this is prophesied to the Jerusalem above, 
+whose reward is God Himself, and whose chief and entire good it is to 
+have Him, and to be His. But this pertains to both, that the city of God is 
+called Jerusalem, and that it is prophesied the house of God shall be in 
+it; and this prophecy seems to be fulfilled when king Solomon builds that 
+most noble temple. For these things both happened in the earthly 
+Jerusalem, as history shows, and were types of the heavenly Jerusalem. 
+And this kind of prophecy, as it were compacted and commingled of 
+both the others in the ancient canonical books, containing historical 
+narratives, is of very great significance, and has exercised and exercises 
+greatly the wits of those who search holy writ. For example, what we 
+read of historically as predicted and fulfilled in the seed of Abraham 
+according to the flesh, we must also inquire the allegorical meaning of, 
+as it is to be fulfilled in the seed of Abraham according to faith. And so 
+much is this the case, that some have thought there is nothing in these 
+
+
+books either foretold and effected, or effected although not foretold, that 
+does not insinuate something else which is to be referred by figurative 
+signification to the city of God on high, and to her children who are 
+pilgrims in this life. But if this be so, then the utterances of the prophets, 
+or rather the whole of those Scriptures that are reckoned under the title 
+of the Old Testament, will be not of three, but of two different kinds. For 
+there will be nothing there which pertains to the terrestrial Jerusalem 
+only, if whatever is there said and fulfilled of or concerning her signifies 
+something which also refers by allegorical prefiguration to the celestial 
+Jerusalem; but there will be only two kinds, one that pertains to the free 
+Jerusalem, the other to both. But just as, I think, they err greatly who 
+are of opinion that none of the records of affairs in that kind of writings 
+mean anything more than that they so happened, so I think those very 
+daring who contend that the whole gist of their contents lies in 
+allegorical significations. Therefore I have said they are threefold, not 
+twofold. Yet, in holding this opinion, I do not blame those who may be 
+able to draw out of everything there a spiritual meaning, only saving, 
+first of all, the historical truth. For the rest, what believer can doubt that 
+those things are spoken vainly which are such that, whether said to have 
+been done or to be yet to come, they do not beseem either human or 
+divine affairs? Who would not recall these to spiritual understanding if 
+he could, or confess that they should be recalled by him who is able? 
+
+
+4. About the prefigured change of the Israelitic kingdom and priesthood, and about the things 
+Hannah the mother of Samuel prophesied, personating the Church 
+
+
+Therefore the advance of the city of God, where it reached the times 
+of the kings, yielded a figure, when, on the rejection of Saul, David first 
+obtained the kingdom on such a footing that thenceforth his descendants 
+should reign in the earthly Jerusalem in continual succession; for the 
+course of affairs signified and foretold, what is not to be passed by in 
+silence, concerning the change of things to come, what belongs to both 
+Testaments, the Old and the New—where the priesthood and kingdom 
+are changed by one who is a priest, and at the same time a king, new 
+and everlasting, even Christ Jesus. For both the substitution in the 
+ministry of God, on Eli’s rejection as priest, of Samuel, who executed at 
+once the office of priest and judge, and the establishment of David in the 
+kingdom, when Saul was rejected, typified this of which I speak. And 
+
+
+Hannah herself, the mother of Samuel, who formerly was barren, and 
+afterwards was gladdened with fertility, does not seem to prophesy 
+anything else, when she exultingly pours forth her thanksgiving to the 
+Lord, on yielding up to God the same boy she had born and weaned with 
+the same piety with which she had vowed him. For she says, “My heart 
+is made strong in the Lord, and my horn is exalted in my God; my mouth 
+is enlarged over mine enemies; I am made glad in Thy salvation. Because 
+there is none holy as the Lord; and none is righteous as our God: there is 
+none holy save Thee. Do not glory so proudly, and do not speak lofty 
+things, neither let vaunting talk come out of your mouth: for a God of 
+knowledge is the Lord, and a God preparing His curious designs. The 
+bow of the mighty hath He made weak, and the weak are girded with 
+strength. They that were full of bread are diminished; and the hungry 
+have passed beyond the earth: for the barren hath born seven; and she 
+that hath many children is waxed feeble. The Lord killeth and maketh 
+alive: He bringeth down to hell, and bringeth up again. The Lord maketh 
+poor and maketh rich: He bringeth low and lifteth up. He raiseth up the 
+poor out of the dust, and lifteth up the beggar from the dunghill, that He 
+may set him among the mighty of [His] people, and maketh them inherit 
+the throne of glory; giving the vow to him that voweth, and He hath 
+blessed the years of the just: for man is not mighty in strength. The Lord 
+shall make His adversary weak: the Lord is holy. Let not the prudent 
+glory in his prudence; and let not the mighty glory in his might; and let 
+not the rich glory in his riches: but let him that glorieth glory in this, to 
+understand and know the Lord, and to do judgment and justice in the 
+midst of the earth. The Lord hath ascended into the heavens, and hath 
+thundered: He shall judge the ends of the earth, for He is righteous: and 
+He giveth strength to our kings, and shall exalt the horn of His Christ.”6 
+Do you say that these are the words of a single weak woman giving 
+thanks for the birth of a son? Can the mind of men be so much averse to 
+the light of truth as not to perceive that the sayings this woman pours 
+forth exceed her measure? Moreover, he who is suitably interested in 
+these things which have already begun to be fulfilled even in this earthly 
+pilgrimage also, does he not apply his mind, and perceive, and 
+acknowledge, that through this woman—whose very name, which is 
+Hannah, means “His grace”—the very Christian religion, the very city of 
+God, whose king and founder is Christ, in fine, the very grace of God, 
+
+
+hath thus spoken by the prophetic Spirit, whereby the proud are cut off 
+so that they fall, and the humble are filled so that they rise, which that 
+hymn chiefly celebrates? Unless perchance any one will say that this 
+woman prophesied nothing, but only lauded God with exulting praise on 
+account of the son whom she had obtained in answer to prayer. What 
+then does she mean when she says, “The bow of the mighty hath He 
+made weak, and the weak are girded with strength; they that were full 
+of bread are diminished, and the hungry have gone beyond the earth; for 
+the barren hath born seven, and she that hath many children is waxed 
+feeble?” Had she herself born seven, although she had been barren? She 
+had only one when she said that; neither did she bear seven afterwards, 
+nor six, with whom Samuel himself might be the seventh, but three 
+males and two females. And then, when as yet no one was king over that 
+people, whence, if she did not prophesy, did she say what she puts at the 
+end, “He giveth strength to our kings, and shall exalt the horn of His 
+Christ?” 
+
+Therefore let the Church of Christ, the city of the great King,” full of 
+grace, prolific of offspring, let her say what the prophecy uttered about 
+her so long before by the mouth of this pious mother confesses, “My 
+heart is made strong in the Lord, and my horn is exalted in my God.” 
+Her heart is truly made strong, and her horn is truly exalted, because not 
+in herself, but in the Lord her God. “My mouth is enlarged over mine 
+enemies;” because even in pressing straits the word of God is not bound, 
+not even in preachers who are bound.® “I am made glad,” she says, “in 
+Thy salvation.” This is Christ Jesus Himself, whom old Simeon, as we 
+read in the Gospel, embracing as a little one, yet recognising as great, 
+said, “Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes 
+have seen Thy salvation.”? Therefore may the Church say, “I am made 
+glad in Thy salvation. For there is none holy as the Lord, and none is 
+righteous as our God;” as holy and sanctifying, just and justifying.1° 
+“There is none holy beside Thee;” because no one becomes so except by 
+reason of Thee. And then it follows, “Do not glory so proudly, and do not 
+speak lofty things, neither let vaunting talk come out of your mouth. For 
+a God of knowledge is the Lord.” He knows you even when no one 
+knows; for “he who thinketh himself to be something when he is nothing 
+deceiveth himself.”!1 These things are said to the adversaries of the city 
+of God who belong to Babylon, who presume in their own strength, and 
+
+
+glory in themselves, not in the Lord; of whom are also the carnal 
+Israelites, the earth-born inhabitants of the earthly Jerusalem, who, as 
+saith the apostle, “being ignorant of the righteousness of God,”!2 that is, 
+which God, who alone is just, and the justifier, gives to man, “and 
+wishing to establish their own,” that is, which is as it were procured by 
+their own selves, not bestowed by Him, “are not subject to the 
+righteousness of God,” just because they are proud, and think they are 
+able to please God with their own, not with that which is of God, who is 
+the God of knowledge, and therefore also takes the oversight of 
+consciences, there beholding the thoughts of men that they are vain,!3 if 
+they are of men, and are not from Him. “And preparing,” she says, “His 
+curious designs.” What curious designs do we think these are, save that 
+the proud must fall, and the humble rise? These curious designs she 
+recounts, saying, “The bow of the mighty is made weak, and the weak 
+are girded with strength.” The bow is made weak, that is, the intention 
+of those who think themselves so powerful, that without the gift and 
+help of God they are able by human sufficiency to fulfil the divine 
+commandments; and those are girded with strength whose inward cry is, 
+“Have mercy upon me, O Lord, for I am weak.”!4 
+
+“They that were full of bread,” she says, “are diminished, and the 
+hungry have gone beyond the earth.” Who are to be understood as full of 
+bread except those same who were as if mighty, that is, the Israelites, to 
+whom were committed the oracles of God?15 But among that people the 
+children of the bond maid were diminished—by which word minus, 
+although it is Latin, the idea is well expressed that from being greater 
+they were made less—because, even in the very bread, that is, the divine 
+oracles, which the Israelites alone of all nations have received, they 
+savour earthly things. But the nations to whom that law was not given, 
+after they have come through the New Testament to these oracles, by 
+thirsting much have gone beyond the earth, because in them they have 
+savoured not earthly, but heavenly things. And the reason why this is 
+done is as it were sought; “for the barren,” she says, “hath born seven, 
+and she that hath many children is waxed feeble.” Here all that had been 
+prophesied hath shone forth to those who understood the number seven, 
+which signifies the perfection of the universal Church. For which reason 
+also the Apostle John writes to the seven churches,!6 showing in that 
+way that he writes to the totality of the one Church; and in the Proverbs 
+
+
+of Solomon it is said aforetime, prefiguring this, “Wisdom hath builded 
+her house, she hath strengthened her seven pillars.”!7 For the city of God 
+was barren in all nations before that child arose whom we see.!8 We also 
+see that the temporal Jerusalem, who had many children, is now waxed 
+feeble. Because, whoever in her were sons of the free woman were her 
+strength; but now, forasmuch as the letter is there, and not the spirit, 
+having lost her strength, she is waxed feeble. 
+
+“The Lord killeth and maketh alive:” He has killed her who had many 
+children, and made this barren one alive, so that she has born seven. 
+Although it may be more suitably understood that He has made those 
+same alive whom He has killed. For she, as it were, repeats that by 
+adding, “He bringeth down to hell, and bringeth up.” To whom truly the 
+apostle says, “If ye be dead with Christ, seek those things which are 
+above, where Christ sitteth on the right hand of God.”!9 Therefore they 
+are killed by the Lord in a salutary way, so that he adds, “Savour things 
+which are above, not things on the earth;” so that these are they who, 
+hungering, have passed beyond the earth. “For ye are dead,” he says: 
+behold how God savingly kills! Then there follows, “And your life is hid 
+with Christ in God:” behold how God makes the same alive! But does He 
+bring them down to hell and bring them up again? It is without 
+controversy among believers that we best see both parts of this work 
+fulfilled in Him, to wit, our Head, with whom the apostle has said our 
+life is hid in God. “For when He spared not His own Son, but delivered 
+Him up for us all,”2° in that way, certainly, He has killed Him. And 
+forasmuch as He raised Him up again from the dead, He has made Him 
+alive again. And since His voice is acknowledged in the prophecy, “Thou 
+wilt not leave my soul in hell,”2! He has brought Him down to hell and 
+brought Him up again. By this poverty of His we are made rich;22 for 
+“the Lord maketh poor and maketh rich.” But that we may know what 
+this is, let us hear what follows: “He bringeth low and lifteth up;” and 
+truly He humbles the proud and exalts the humble. Which we also read 
+elsewhere, “God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace to the humble.”23 
+This is the burden of the entire song of this woman whose name is 
+interpreted “His grace.” 
+
+Farther, what is added, “He raiseth up the poor from the earth,” I 
+understand of none better than of Him who, as was said a little ago, 
+“was made poor for us, when He was rich, that by His poverty we might 
+
+
+be made rich.” For He raised Him from the earth so quickly that His 
+flesh did not see corruption. Nor shall I divert from Him what is added, 
+“And raiseth up the poor from the dunghill.” For indeed he who is the 
+poor man is also the beggar.24 But by the dunghill from which he is 
+lifted up we are with the greatest reason to understand the persecuting 
+Jews, of whom the apostle says, when telling that when he belonged to 
+them he persecuted the Church, “What things were gain to me, those I 
+counted loss for Christ; and I have counted them not only loss, but even 
+dung, that I might win Christ.”25 Therefore that poor one is raised up 
+from the earth above all the rich, and that beggar is lifted up from that 
+dunghill above all the wealthy, “that he may sit among the mighty of the 
+people,” to whom He says, “Ye shall sit upon twelve thrones,”26 “and to 
+make them inherit the throne of glory.” For these mighty ones had said, 
+“Lo, we have forsaken all and followed Thee.” They had most mightily 
+vowed this vow. 
+
+But whence do they receive this, except from Him of whom it is here 
+immediately said, “Giving the vow to him that voweth?” Otherwise they 
+would be of those mighty ones whose bow is weakened. “Giving,” she 
+saith, “the vow to him that voweth.” For no one could vow anything 
+acceptable to God, unless he received from Him that which he might 
+vow. There follows, “And He hath blessed the years of the just,” to wit, 
+that he may live for ever with Him to whom it is said, “And Thy years 
+shall have no end.” For there the years abide; but here they pass away, 
+yea, they perish: for before they come they are not, and when they shall 
+have come they shall not be, because they bring their own end with 
+them. Now of these two, that is, “giving the vow to him that voweth,” 
+and “He hath blessed the years of the just,” the one is what we do, the 
+other what we receive. But this other is not received from God, the 
+liberal giver, until He, the helper, Himself has enabled us for the former; 
+“for man is not mighty in strength.” “The Lord shall make his adversary 
+weak,” to wit, him who envies the man that vows, and resists him, lest 
+he should fulfil what he has vowed. Owing to the ambiguity of the 
+Greek, it may also be understood “his own adversary.” For when God 
+has begun to possess us, immediately he who had been our adversary 
+becomes His, and is conquered by us; but not by our own strength, “for 
+man is not mighty in strength.” Therefore “the Lord shall make His own 
+adversary weak, the Lord is holy,” that he may be conquered by the 
+
+
+saints, whom the Lord, the Holy of holies, hath made saints. For this 
+reason, “let not the prudent glory in his prudence, and let not the mighty 
+glory in his might, and let not the rich glory in his riches; but let him 
+that glorieth glory in this—to understand and know the Lord, and to do 
+judgment and justice in the midst of the earth.” He in no small measure 
+understands and knows the Lord who understands and knows that even 
+this, that he can understand and know the Lord, is given to him by the 
+Lord. “For what hast thou,” saith the apostle, “that thou hast not 
+received? But if thou hast received it, why dost thou glory as if thou 
+hadst not received it?”27 That is, as if thou hadst of thine own self 
+whereof thou mightest glory. Now, he does judgment and justice who 
+lives aright. But he lives aright who yields obedience to God when He 
+commands. “The end of the commandment,” that is, to which the 
+commandment has reference, “is charity out of a pure heart, and a good 
+conscience, and faith unfeigned.” Moreover, this “charity,” as the 
+Apostle John testifies, “is of God.”28 Therefore to do justice and 
+judgment is of God. But what is “in the midst of the earth?” For ought 
+those who dwell in the ends of the earth not to do judgment and justice? 
+Who would say so? Why, then, is it added, “In the midst of the earth?” 
+For if this had not been added, and it had only been said, “To do 
+judgment and justice,” this commandment would rather have pertained 
+to both kinds of men—both those dwelling inland and those on the sea- 
+coast. But lest any one should think that, after the end of the life led in 
+this body, there remains a time for doing judgment and justice which he 
+has not done while he was in the flesh, and that the divine judgment can 
+thus be escaped, “in the midst of the earth” appears to me to be said of 
+the time when every one lives in the body; for in this life every one 
+carries about his own earth, which, on a man’s dying, the common earth 
+takes back, to be surely returned to him on his rising again. Therefore 
+“in the midst of the earth,” that is, while our soul is shut up in this 
+earthly body, judgment and justice are to be done, which shall be 
+profitable for us hereafter, when “every one shall receive according to 
+that he hath done in the body, whether good or bad.”29 For when the 
+apostle there says “in the body,” he means in the time he has lived in the 
+body. Yet if any one blaspheme with malicious mind and impious 
+thought, without any member of his body being employed in it, he shall 
+not therefore be guiltless because he has not done it with bodily motion, 
+
+
+for he will have done it in that time which he has spent in the body. In 
+the same way we may suitably understand what we read in the psalm, 
+“But God, our King before the worlds, hath wrought salvation in the 
+midst of the earth;”3° so that the Lord Jesus may be understood to be 
+our God who is before the worlds, because by Him the worlds were 
+made, working our salvation in the midst of the earth, for the Word was 
+made flesh and dwelt in an earthly body. 
+
+Then after Hannah has prophesied in these words, that he who 
+glorieth ought to glory not in himself at all, but in the Lord, she says, on 
+account of the retribution which is to come on the day of judgment, 
+“The Lord hath ascended into the heavens, and hath thundered: He shall 
+judge the ends of the earth, for He is righteous.” Throughout she holds 
+to the order of the creed of Christians: For the Lord Christ has ascended 
+into heaven, and is to come thence to judge the quick and dead.?! For, as 
+saith the apostle, “Who hath ascended but He who hath also descended 
+into the lower parts of the earth? He that descended is the same also that 
+ascended up above all heavens, that He might fill all things.32 Therefore 
+He hath thundered through His clouds, which He hath filled with His 
+Holy Spirit when He ascended up. Concerning which the bond maid 
+Jerusalem—that is, the unfruitful vineyard—is threatened in Isaiah the 
+prophet that they shall rain no showers upon her. But “He shall judge 
+the ends of the earth” is spoken as if it had been said, “even the 
+extremes of the earth.” For it does not mean that He shall not judge the 
+other parts of the earth, who, without doubt, shall judge all men. But it 
+is better to understand by the extremes of the earth the extremes of man, 
+since those things shall not be judged which, in the middle time, are 
+changed for the better or the worse, but the ending in which he shall be 
+found who is judged. For which reason it is said, “He that shall persevere 
+even unto the end, the same shall be saved.”33 He, therefore, who 
+perseveringly does judgment and justice in the midst of the earth shall 
+not be condemned when the extremes of the earth shall be judged. “And 
+giveth,” she saith, “strength to our kings,” that He may not condemn 
+them in judging. He giveth them strength whereby as kings they rule the 
+flesh, and conquer the world in Him who hath poured out His blood for 
+them. “And shall exalt the horn of His Christ.” How shall Christ exalt the 
+horn of His Christ? For He of whom it was said above, “The Lord hath 
+ascended into the heavens,” meaning the Lord Christ, Himself, as it is 
+
+
+said here, “shall exalt the horn of His Christ.” Who, therefore, is the 
+Christ of His Christ? Does it mean that He shall exalt the horn of each 
+one of His believing people, as she says in the beginning of this hymn, 
+“Mine horn is exalted in my God?” For we can rightly call all those 
+christs who are anointed with His chrism, forasmuch as the whole body 
+with its head is one Christ.34 These things hath Hannah, the mother of 
+Samuel, the holy and much-praised man, prophesied, in which, indeed, 
+the change of the ancient priesthood was then figured and is now 
+fulfilled, since she that had many children is waxed feeble, that the 
+barren who hath born seven might have the new priesthood in Christ. 
+
+
+5. Of those things which a man of God spake by the Spirit to Eli the priest, signifying that the 
+
+
+priesthood which had been appointed according to Aaron was to be taken away 
+
+
+But this is said more plainly by a man of God sent to Eli the priest 
+himself, whose name indeed is not mentioned, but whose office and 
+ministry show him to have been indubitably a prophet. For it is thus 
+written: “And there came a man of God unto Eli, and said, Thus saith the 
+Lord, I plainly revealed myself unto thy father’s house, when they were 
+in the land of Egypt slaves in Pharaoh’s house; and I chose thy father’s 
+house out of all the sceptres of Israel to fill the office of priest for me, to 
+go up to my altar, to burn incense and wear the ephod; and I gave thy 
+father’s house for food all the offerings made by fire of the children of 
+Israel. Wherefore then hast thou looked at mine incense and at mine 
+offerings with an impudent eye, and hast glorified thy sons above me, to 
+bless the first-fruits of every sacrifice in Israel before me? Therefore thus 
+saith the Lord God of Israel, I said thy house and thy father’s house 
+should walk before me for ever: but now the Lord saith, Be it far from 
+me; for them that honour me will I honour, and he that despiseth me 
+shall be despised. Behold, the days come, that I will cut off thy seed, and 
+the seed of thy father’s house, and thou shalt never have an old man in 
+my house. And I will cut off the man of thine from mine altar, so that his 
+eyes shall be consumed, and his heart shall melt away; and every one of 
+thy house that is left shall fall by the sword of men. And this shall be a 
+sign unto thee that shall come upon these thy two sons, Hophni and 
+Phinehas; in one day they shall die both of them. And I will raise me up 
+a faithful priest, that shall do according to all that is in mine heart and 
+in my soul; and I will build him a sure house, and he shall walk before 
+
+
+my Christ for ever. And it shall come to pass that he who is left in thine 
+house shall come to worship him with a piece of money saying, Put me 
+into one part of thy priesthood, that I may eat bread.”35 
+
+We cannot say that this prophecy, in which the change of the ancient 
+priesthood is foretold with so great plainness, was fulfilled in Samuel; for 
+although Samuel was not of another tribe than that which had been 
+appointed by God to serve at the altar, yet he was not of the sons of 
+Aaron, whose offspring was set apart that the priests might be taken out 
+of it. And thus by that transaction also the same change which should 
+come to pass through Christ Jesus is shadowed forth, and the prophecy 
+itself in deed, not in word, belonged to the Old Testament properly, but 
+figuratively to the New, signifying by the fact just what was said by the 
+word to Eli the priest through the prophet. For there were afterwards 
+priests of Aaron’s race, such as Zadok and Abiathar during David’s reign, 
+and others in succession, before the time came when those things which 
+were predicted so long before about the changing of the priesthood 
+behoved to be fulfilled by Christ. But who that now views these things 
+with a believing eye does not see that they are fulfilled? Since, indeed, 
+no tabernacle, no temple, no altar, no sacrifice, and therefore no priest 
+either, has remained to the Jews, to whom it was commanded in the law 
+of God that he should be ordained of the seed of Aaron; which is also 
+mentioned here by the prophet, when he says, “Thus saith the Lord God 
+of Israel, I said thy house and thy father’s house shall walk before me for 
+ever: but now the Lord saith, That be far from me; for them that honour 
+me will I honour, and he that despiseth me shall be despised.” For that 
+in naming his father’s house he does not mean that of his immediate 
+father, but that of Aaron, who first was appointed priest, to be succeeded 
+by others descended from him, is shown by the preceding words, when 
+he says, “I was revealed unto thy father’s house, when they were in the 
+land of Egypt slaves in Pharaoh’s house; and I chose thy father’s house 
+out of all the sceptres of Israel to fill the office of priest for me.” Which 
+of the fathers in that Egyptian slavery, but Aaron, was his father, who, 
+when they were set free, was chosen to the priesthood? It was of his 
+lineage, therefore, he has said in this passage it should come to pass that 
+they should no longer be priests; which already we see fulfilled. If faith 
+be watchful, the things are before us: they are discerned, they are 
+grasped, and are forced on the eyes of the unwilling, so that they are 
+
+
+seen: “Behold the days come,” he says, “that I will cut off thy seed, and 
+the seed of thy father’s house, and thou shalt never have an old man in 
+mine house. And I will cut off the man of thine from mine altar, so that 
+his eyes shall be consumed and his heart shall melt away.” Behold the 
+days which were foretold have already come. There is no priest after the 
+order of Aaron; and whoever is a man of his lineage, when he sees the 
+sacrifice of the Christians prevailing over the whole world, but that great 
+honour taken away from himself, his eyes fail and his soul melts away 
+consumed with grief. 
+
+But what follows belongs properly to the house of Eli, to whom these 
+things were said: “And every one of thine house that is left shall fall by 
+the sword of men. And this shall be a sign unto thee that shall come 
+upon these thy two sons, Hophni and Phinehas; in one day they shall die 
+both of them.” This, therefore, is made a sign of the change of the 
+priesthood from this man’s house. by which it is signified that the 
+priesthood of Aaron’s house is to be changed. For the death of this man’s 
+sons signified the death not of the men, but of the priesthood itself of the 
+sons of Aaron. But what follows pertains to that Priest whom Samuel 
+typified by succeeding this one. Therefore the things which follow are 
+said of Christ Jesus the true Priest of the New Testament: “And I will 
+raise me up a faithful Priest that shall do according to all that is in mine 
+heart and in my soul; and I will build Him a sure house.” The same is the 
+eternal Jerusalem above. “And He shall walk,” saith He, “before my 
+Christ always.” “He shall walk” means “he shall be conversant with,” 
+just as He had said before of Aaron’s house, “I said that thine house and 
+thy father’s house shall walk before me for ever.” But what He says, “He 
+shall walk before my Christ,” is to be understood entirely of the house 
+itself, not of the priest, who is Christ Himself, the Mediator and Saviour. 
+His house, therefore, shall walk before Him. “Shall walk” may also be 
+understood to mean from death to life, all the time this mortality passes 
+through, even to the end of this world. But where God says, “Who will 
+do all that is in mine heart and in my soul,” we must not think that God 
+has a soul, for He is the Author of souls; but this is said of God 
+tropically, not properly, just as He is said to have hands and feet, and 
+other corporal members. And, lest it should be supposed from such 
+language that man in the form of this flesh is made in the image of God, 
+wings also are ascribed to Him, which man has not at all; and it is said 
+
+
+to God, “Hide me under the shadow of Thy wings,”36 that men may 
+understand that such things are said of that ineffable nature not in 
+proper but in figurative words. 
+
+But what is added, “And it shall come to pass that he who is left in 
+thine house shall come to worship Him,” is not said properly of the 
+house of this Eli, but of that Aaron, the men of which remained even to 
+the advent of Jesus Christ, of which race there are not wanting men even 
+to this present. For of that house of Eli it had already been said above, 
+“And every one of thine house that is left shall fall by the sword of men.” 
+How, therefore, could it be truly said here, “And it shall come to pass 
+that every one that is left shall come to worship him,” if that is true, that 
+no one shall escape the avenging sword, unless he would have it 
+understood of those who belong to the race of that whole priesthood 
+after the order of Aaron? Therefore, if it is of these the predestinated 
+remnant, about whom another prophet has said, “The remnant shall be 
+saved;”37 whence the apostle also says, “Even so then at this time also 
+the remnant according to the election of grace is saved;”38 since it is 
+easily understood to be of such a remnant that it is said, “He that is left 
+in thine house,” assuredly he believes in Christ; just as in the time of the 
+apostle very many of that nation believed; nor are there now wanting 
+those, although very few, who yet believe, and in them is fulfilled what 
+this man of God has here immediately added, “He shall come to worship 
+him with a piece of money;” to worship whom, if not that Chief Priest, 
+who is also God? For in that priesthood after the order of Aaron men did 
+not come to the temple or altar of God for the purpose of worshipping 
+the priest. But what is that he says, “With a piece of money,” if not the 
+short word of faith, about which the apostle quotes the saying, “A 
+consummating and shortening word will the Lord make upon the 
+earth?”39 But that money is put for the word the psalm is a witness, 
+where it is sung, “The words of the Lord are pure words, money tried 
+with the fire.”4° 
+
+What then does he say who comes to worship the priest of God, even 
+the Priest who is God? “Put me into one part of Thy priesthood, to eat 
+bread.” I do not wish to be set in the honour of my fathers, which is 
+none; put me in a part of Thy priesthood. For “I have chosen to be mean 
+in Thine house;”41 I desire to be a member, no matter what, or how 
+small, of Thy priesthood. By the priesthood he here means the people 
+
+
+itself, of which He is the Priest who is the Mediator between God and 
+men, the man Christ Jesus.42 This people the Apostle Peter calls “a holy 
+people, a royal priesthood.”43 But some have translated, “Of Thy 
+sacrifice,” not “Of Thy priesthood,” which no less signifies the same 
+Christian people. Whence the Apostle Paul says, “We being many are one 
+bread, one body.”44 [And again he says, “Present your bodies a living 
+sacrifice.”45] What, therefore, he has added, to “eat bread,” also 
+elegantly expresses the very kind of sacrifice of which the Priest Himself 
+says, “The bread which I will give is my flesh for the life of the world.”46 
+The same is the sacrifice not after the order of Aaron, but after the order 
+of Melchizedek:47 let him that readeth understand.48 Therefore this short 
+and salutarily humble confession, in which it is said, “Put me in a part of 
+Thy priesthood, to eat bread,” is itself the piece of money, for it is both 
+brief, and it is the Word of God who dwells in the heart of one who 
+believes. For because He had said above, that He had given for food to 
+Aaron’s house the sacrificial victims of the Old Testament, where He 
+says, “I have given thy father’s house for food all things which are 
+offered by fire of the children of Israel,” which indeed were the sacrifices 
+of the Jews; therefore here He has said, “To eat bread,” which is in the 
+New Testament the sacrifice of the Christians. 
+
+
+6. Of the Jewish priesthood and kingdom, which, although promised to be established for ever, did 
+
+
+not continue; so that other things are to be understood to which eternity is assured 
+
+
+While, therefore, these things now shine forth as clearly as they were 
+loftily foretold, still some one may not vainly be moved to ask, How can 
+we be confident that all things are to come to pass which are predicted 
+in these books as about to come, if this very thing which is there 
+divinely spoken, “Thine house and thy father’s house shall walk before 
+me for ever,” could not have effect? For we see that priesthood has been 
+changed; and there can be no hope that what was promised to that 
+house may some time be fulfilled, because that which succeeds on its 
+being rejected and changed is rather predicted as eternal. He who says 
+this does not yet understand, or does not recollect, that this very 
+priesthood after the order of Aaron was appointed as the shadow of a 
+future eternal priesthood; and therefore, when eternity is promised to it, 
+it is not promised to the mere shadow and figure, but to what is 
+shadowed forth and prefigured by it. But lest it should be thought the 
+
+
+shadow itself was to remain, therefore its mutation also behoved to be 
+foretold. 
+
+In this way, too, the kingdom of Saul himself, who certainly was 
+reprobated and rejected, was the shadow of a kingdom yet to come 
+which should remain to eternity. For, indeed, the oil with which he was 
+anointed, and from that chrism he is called Christ, is to be taken in a 
+mystical sense, and is to be understood as a great mystery; which David 
+himself venerated so much in him, that he trembled with smitten heart 
+when, being hid in a dark cave, which Saul also entered when pressed by 
+the necessity of nature, he had come secretly behind him and cut off a 
+small piece of his robe, that he might be able to prove how he had 
+spared him when he could have killed him, and might thus remove from 
+his mind the suspicion through which he had vehemently persecuted the 
+holy David, thinking him his enemy. Therefore he was much afraid lest 
+he should be accused of violating so great a mystery in Saul, because he 
+had thus meddled even his clothes. For thus it is written: “And David’s 
+heart smote him because he had taken away the skirt of his cloak.”49 But 
+to the men with him, who advised him to destroy Saul thus delivered up 
+into his hands, he saith, “The Lord forbid that I should do this thing to 
+my lord, the Lord’s christ, to lay my hand upon him, because he is the 
+Lord’s christ.” Therefore he showed so great reverence to this shadow of 
+what was to come, not for its own sake, but for the sake of what it 
+prefigured. Whence also that which Samuel says to Saul, “Since thou 
+hast not kept my commandment which the Lord commanded thee, 
+whereas now the Lord would have prepared thy kingdom over Israel for 
+ever, yet now thy kingdom shall not continue for thee; and the Lord will 
+seek Him a man after His own heart, and the Lord will command him to 
+be prince over His people, because thou hast not kept that which the 
+Lord commanded thee,”5° is not to be taken as if God had settled that 
+Saul himself should reign for ever, and afterwards, on his sinning, would 
+not keep this promise; nor was He ignorant that he would sin, but He 
+had established his kingdom that it might be a figure of the eternal 
+kingdom. Therefore he added, “Yet now thy kingdom shall not continue 
+for thee.” Therefore what it signified has stood and shall stand; but it 
+shall not stand for this man, because he himself was not to reign for 
+ever, nor his offspring; so that at least that word “for ever” might seem 
+to be fulfilled through his posterity one to another. “And the Lord,” he 
+
+
+saith, “will seek Him a man,” meaning either David or the Mediator of 
+the New Testament,5! who was figured in the chrism with which David 
+also and his offspring was anointed. But it is not as if He knew not where 
+he was that God thus seeks Him a man, but, speaking through a man, He 
+speaks as a man, and in this sense seeks us. For not only to God the 
+Father, but also to His Only-begotten, who came to seek what was lost,52 
+we had been known already even so far as to be chosen in Him before 
+the foundation of the world.53 “He will seek him,” therefore means, He 
+will have His own (just as if He had said, Whom He already has known 
+to be His own He will show to others to be His friend). Whence in Latin 
+this word (querrit) receives a preposition and becomes acquirit (acquires), 
+the meaning of which is plain enough; although even without the 
+addition of the preposition gu@rere is understood as acquirere, whence 
+gains are called questus. 
+
+
+7. Of the disruption of the kingdom of Israel, by which the perpetual division of the spiritual 
+from the carnal Israel was prefigured 
+
+
+Again Saul sinned through disobedience, and again Samuel says to 
+Him in the word of the Lord, “Because thou hast despised the word of 
+the Lord, the Lord hath despised thee, that thou mayest not be king over 
+Israel.”54 And again for the same sin, when Saul confessed it, and prayed 
+for pardon, and besought Samuel to return with him to appease the 
+Lord, he said, “I will not return with thee: for thou hast despised the 
+word of the Lord, and the Lord will despise thee that thou mayest not be 
+king over Israel. And Samuel turned his face to go away, and Saul laid 
+hold upon the skirt of his mantle, and rent it. And Samuel said unto him, 
+The Lord hath rent the kingdom from Israel out of thine hand this day, 
+and will give it to thy neighbour, who is good above thee, and will 
+divide Israel in twain. And He will not be changed, neither will He 
+repent: for He is not as a man, that He should repent; who threatens and 
+does not persist.”°5 He to whom it is said, “The Lord will despise thee 
+that thou mayest not be king over Israel,” and “The Lord hath rent the 
+kingdom from Israel out of thine hand this day,” reigned forty years over 
+Israel—that is, just as long a time as David himself—yet heard this in the 
+first period of his reign, that we may understand it was said because 
+none of his race was to reign, and that we may look to the race of David, 
+whence also is sprung, according to the flesh,°° the Mediator between 
+
+
+God and men, the man Christ Jesus.57 
+
+But the Scripture has not what is read in most Latin copies, “The Lord 
+hath rent the kingdom of Israel out of thine hand this day,” but just as 
+we have set it down it is found in the Greek copies, “The Lord hath rent 
+the kingdom from Israel out of thine hand;” that the words “out of thine 
+hand” may be understood to mean “from Israel.” Therefore this man 
+figuratively represented the people of Israel, which was to lose the 
+kingdom, Christ Jesus our Lord being about to reign, not carnally, but 
+spiritually. And when it is said of Him, “And will give it to thy 
+neighbour,” that is to be referred to the fleshly kinship, for Christ, 
+according to the flesh, was of Israel, whence also Saul sprang. But what 
+is added, “Good above thee,” may indeed be understood, “Better than 
+thee,” and indeed some have thus translated it; but it is better taken 
+thus, “Good above thee,” as meaning that because He is good, therefore 
+He must be above thee, according to that other prophetic saying, “Till I 
+put all Thine enemies under Thy feet.”58 And among them is Israel, from 
+whom, as His persecutor, Christ took away the kingdom; although the 
+Israel in whom there was no guile may have been there too, a sort of 
+grain, as it were, of that chaff. For certainly thence came the apostles, 
+thence so many martyrs, of whom Stephen is the first, thence so many 
+churches, which the Apostle Paul names, magnifying God in their 
+conversion. 
+
+Of which thing I do not doubt what follows is to be understood, “And 
+will divide Israel in twain,” to wit, into Israel pertaining to the bond 
+woman, and Israel pertaining to the free. For these two kinds were at 
+first together, as Abraham still clave to the bond woman, until the 
+barren, made fruitful by the grace of God, cried, “Cast out the bond 
+woman and her son.”°9 We know, indeed, that on account of the sin of 
+Solomon, in the reign of his son Rehoboam Israel was divided in two, 
+and continued so, the separate parts having their own kings, until that 
+whole nation was overthrown with a great destruction, and carried away 
+by the Chaldeans. But what was this to Saul, when, if any such thing was 
+threatened, it would be threatened against David himself, whose son 
+Solomon was? Finally, the Hebrew nation is not now divided internally, 
+but is dispersed through the earth indiscriminately, in the fellowship of 
+the same error. But that division with which God threatened the 
+kingdom and people in the person of Saul, who represented them, is 
+
+
+shown to be eternal and unchangeable by this which is added, “And He 
+will not be changed, neither will He repent: for He is not as a man, that 
+He should repent; who threatens and does not persist”—that is, a man 
+threatens and does not persist, but not God, who does not repent like 
+man. For when we read that He repents, a change of circumstance is 
+meant, flowing from the divine immutable foreknowledge. Therefore, 
+when God is said not to repent, it is to be understood that He does not 
+change. 
+
+We see that this sentence concerning this division of the people of 
+Israel, divinely uttered in these words, has been altogether irremediable 
+and quite perpetual. For whoever have turned, or are turning, or shall 
+turn thence to Christ, it has been according to the foreknowledge of God, 
+not according to the one and the same nature of the human race. 
+Certainly none of the Israelites, who, cleaving to Christ, have continued 
+in Him, shall ever be among those Israelites who persist in being His 
+enemies even to the end of this life, but shall for ever remain in the 
+separation which is here foretold. For the Old Testament, from the 
+Mount Sinai, which gendereth to bondage,®°? profiteth nothing, unless 
+because it bears witness to the New Testament. Otherwise, however long 
+Moses is read, the veil is put over their heart; but when any one shall 
+turn thence to Christ, the veil shall be taken away.®! For the very desire 
+of those who turn is changed from the old to the new, so that each no 
+longer desires to obtain carnal but spiritual felicity. Wherefore that great 
+prophet Samuel himself, before he had anointed Saul, when he had cried 
+to the Lord for Israel, and He had heard him, and when he had offered a 
+whole burnt-offering, as the aliens were coming to battle against the 
+people of God, and the Lord thundered above them and they were 
+confused, and fell before Israel and were overcome; [then] he took one 
+stone and set it up between the old and new Massephat (Mizpeh), and 
+called its name Ebenezer, which means “the stone of the helper,” and 
+said, “Hitherto hath the Lord helped us.”62 Massephat is interpreted 
+“desire.” That stone of the helper is the mediation of the Saviour, by 
+which we go from the old Massephat to the new—that is, from the desire 
+with which carnal happiness was expected in the carnal kingdom to the 
+desire with which the truest spiritual happiness is expected in the 
+kingdom of heaven; and since nothing is better than that, the Lord 
+helpeth us hitherto. 
+
+
+8. Of the promises made to David in his son, which are in no wise fulfilled in Solomon, but most 
+fully in Christ 
+
+
+And now I see I must show what, pertaining to the matter I treat of, 
+God promised to David himself, who succeeded Saul in the kingdom, 
+whose change prefigured that final change on account of which all 
+things were divinely spoken, all things were committed to writing. When 
+many things had gone prosperously with king David, he thought to make 
+a house for God, even that temple of most excellent renown which was 
+afterwards built by king Solomon his son. While he was thinking of this, 
+the word of the Lord came to Nathan the prophet, which he brought to 
+the king, in which, after God had said that a house should not be built 
+unto Him by David himself, and that in all that long time He had never 
+commanded any of His people to build Him a house of cedar, he says, 
+“And now thus shalt thou say unto my servant David, Thus saith God 
+Almighty, I took thee from the sheep-cote that thou mightest be for a 
+ruler over my people in Israel: and I was with thee whithersoever thou 
+wentest, and have cut off all thine enemies from before thy face, and 
+have made thee a name, according to the name of the great ones who 
+are over the earth. And I will appoint a place for my people Israel, and 
+will plant him, and he shall dwell apart, and shall be troubled no more; 
+and the son of wickedness shall not humble him any more, as from the 
+beginning, from the days when I appointed judges over my people Israel. 
+And I will give thee rest from all thine enemies, and the Lord will tell 
+[hath told] thee, because thou shalt build an house for Him. And it shall 
+come to pass when thy days be fulfilled, and thou shalt sleep with thy 
+fathers, that I will raise up thy seed after thee, which shall proceed out 
+of thy bowels, and I will prepare his kingdom. He shall build me an 
+house for my name; and I will order his throne even to eternity. I will be 
+his Father, and he shall be my son. And if he commit iniquity, I will 
+chasten him with the rod of men, and with the stripes of the sons of 
+men: but my mercy I will not take away from him, as I took it away from 
+those whom I put away from before my face. And his house shall be 
+faithful, and his kingdom even for evermore before me, and his throne 
+shall be set up even for evermore.”63 
+
+He who thinks this grand promise was fulfilled in Solomon greatly 
+errs; for he attends to the saying, “He shall build me an house,” but he 
+
+
+does not attend to the saying, “His house shall be faithful, and his 
+kingdom for evermore before me.” Let him therefore attend and behold 
+the house of Solomon full of strange women worshipping false gods, and 
+the king himself, aforetime wise, seduced by them, and cast down into 
+the same idolatry: and let him not dare to think that God either 
+promised this falsely, or was unable to foreknow that Solomon and his 
+house would become what they did. But we ought not to be in doubt 
+here, or to see the fulfilment of these things save in Christ our Lord, who 
+was made of the seed of David according to the flesh,64 lest we should 
+vainly and uselessly look for some other here, like the carnal Jews. For 
+even they understand this much, that the son whom they read of in that 
+place as promised to David was not Solomon; so that, with wonderful 
+blindness to Him who was promised and is now declared with so great 
+manifestation, they say they hope for another. Indeed, even in Solomon 
+there appeared some image of the future event, in that he built the 
+temple, and had peace according to his name (for Solomon means 
+“pacific”), and in the beginning of his reign was wonderfully 
+praiseworthy; but while, as a shadow of Him that should come, he 
+foreshowed Christ our Lord, he did not also in his own person resemble 
+Him. Whence some things concerning him are so written as if they were 
+prophesied of himself, while the Holy Scripture, prophesying even by 
+events, somehow delineates in him the figure of things to come. For, 
+besides the books of divine history, in which his reign is narrated, the 
+72d Psalm also is inscribed in the title with his name, in which so many 
+things are said which cannot at all apply to him, but which apply to the 
+Lord Christ with such evident fitness as makes it quite apparent that in 
+the one the figure is in some way shadowed forth, but in the other the 
+truth itself is presented. For it is known within what bounds the 
+kingdom of Solomon was enclosed; and yet in that psalm, not to speak of 
+other things, we read, “He shall have dominion from sea even to sea, 
+and from the river to the ends of the earth,”©5 which we see fulfilled in 
+Christ. Truly he took the beginning of His reigning from the river where 
+John baptized; for, when pointed out by him, He began to be 
+acknowledged by the disciples, who called Him not only Master, but also 
+Lord. 
+
+Nor was it for any other reason that, while his father David was still 
+living, Solomon began to reign, which happened to none other of their 
+
+
+kings, except that from this also it might be clearly apparent that it was 
+not himself this prophecy spoken to his father signified beforehand, 
+saying, “And it shall come to pass when thy days be fulfilled, and thou 
+shalt sleep with thy fathers, that I will raise up thy seed which shall 
+proceed out of thy bowels, and I will prepare His kingdom.” How, 
+therefore, shall it be thought on account of what follows, “He shall build 
+me an house,” that this Solomon is prophesied, and not rather be 
+understood on account of what precedes, “When thy days be fulfilled, 
+and thou shalt sleep with thy fathers, I will raise up thy seed after thee,” 
+that another pacific One is promised, who is foretold as about to be 
+raised up, not before David’s death, as he was, but after it? For however 
+long the interval of time might be before Jesus Christ came, beyond 
+doubt it was after the death of king David, to whom He was so promised, 
+that He behoved to come, who should build an house of God, not of 
+wood and stone, but of men, such as we rejoice He does build. For to 
+this house, that is, to believers, the apostle saith, “The temple of God is 
+holy, which temple ye are.”66 
+
+
+9. How like the prophecy about Christ in the 89th Psalm is to the things promised in Nathan’s 
+prophecy in the Books of Samuel 
+
+
+Wherefore also in the 89th Psalm, of which the title is, “An instruction 
+for himself by Ethan the Israelite,” mention is made of the promises God 
+made to king David, and some things are there added similar to those 
+found in the Book of Samuel, such as this, “I have sworn to David my 
+servant that I will prepare his seed for ever.”67 And again, “Then thou 
+spakest in vision to thy sons, and saidst, I have laid help upon the 
+mighty One, and have exalted the chosen One out of my people. I have 
+found David my servant, and with my holy oil I have anointed him. For 
+mine hand shall help him, and mine arm shall strengthen him. The 
+enemy shall not prevail against him, and the son of iniquity shall harm 
+him no more. And I will beat down his foes from before his face, and 
+those that hate him will I put to flight. And my truth and my mercy shall 
+be with him, and in my name shall his horn be exalted. I will set his 
+hand also in the sea, and his right hand in the rivers. He shall cry unto 
+me, Thou art my Father, my God, and the undertaker of my salvation. 
+Also I will make him my first-born, high among the kings of the earth. 
+My mercy will I keep for him for evermore, and my covenant shall be 
+
+
+faithful (sure) with him. His seed also will I set for ever and ever, and his 
+throne as the days of heaven.”©8 Which words, when rightly understood, 
+are all understood to be about the Lord Jesus Christ, under the name of 
+David, on account of the form of a servant, which the same Mediator 
+assumed®? from the virgin of the seed of David.70 For immediately 
+something is said about the sins of his children, such as is set down in 
+the Book of Samuel, and is more readily taken as if of Solomon. For 
+there, that is, in the Book of Samuel, he says, “And if he commit 
+iniquity, I will chasten him with the rod of men, and with the stripes of 
+the sons of men; but my mercy will I not take away from him,”7! 
+meaning by stripes the strokes of correction. Hence that saying, “Touch 
+ye not my christs.””2 For what else is that than, Do not harm them? But 
+in the psalm, when speaking as if of David, He says something of the 
+same kind there too. “If his children,” saith He, “forsake my law, and 
+walk not in my judgments; if they profane my righteousnesses, and keep 
+not my commandments; I will visit their iniquities with the rod, and 
+their faults with stripes: but my mercy I will not make void from him.”73 
+He did not say “from them,” although He spoke of his children, not of 
+himself; but he said “from him,” which means the same thing if rightly 
+understood. For of Christ Himself, who is the head of the Church, there 
+could not be found any sins which required to be divinely restrained by 
+human correction, mercy being still continued; but they are found in His 
+body and members, which is His people. Therefore in the Book of 
+Samuel it is said, “iniquity of Him,” but in the psalm, “of His children,” 
+that we may understand that what is said of His body is in some way 
+said of Himself. Wherefore also, when Saul persecuted His body, that is, 
+His believing people, He Himself saith from heaven, “Saul, Saul, why 
+persecutest thou me?”74 Then in the following words of the psalm He 
+says, “Neither will I hurt in my truth, nor profane my covenant, and the 
+things that proceed from my lips I will not disallow. Once have I sworn 
+by my holiness, if I lie unto David”75—that is, I will in no wise lie unto 
+David; for Scripture is wont to speak thus. But what that is in which He 
+will not lie, He adds, saying, “His seed shall endure for ever, and his 
+throne as the sun before me, and as the moon perfected for ever, and a 
+faithful witness in heaven.”76 
+
+
+10. How different the acts in the kingdom of the earthly Jerusalem are from those which God had 
+
+
+promised, so that the truth of the promise should be understood to pertain to the glory of the 
+other King and kingdom 
+
+
+That it might not be supposed that a promise so strongly expressed 
+and confirmed was fulfilled in Solomon, as if he hoped for, yet did not 
+find it, he says, “But Thou hast cast off, and hast brought to nothing, O 
+Lord.””7 This truly was done concerning the kingdom of Solomon among 
+his posterity, even to the overthrow of the earthly Jerusalem itself, 
+which was the seat of the kingdom, and especially the destruction of the 
+very temple which had been built by Solomon. But lest on this account 
+God should be thought to have done contrary to His promise, 
+immediately he adds, “Thou hast delayed Thy Christ.””8 Therefore he is 
+not Solomon, nor yet David himself, if the Christ of the Lord is delayed. 
+For while all the kings are called His christs, who were consecrated with 
+that mystical chrism, not only from king David downwards, but even 
+from that Saul who first was anointed king of that same people, David 
+himself indeed calling him the Lord’s christ, yet there was one true 
+Christ, whose figure they bore by the prophetic unction, who, according 
+to the opinion of men, who thought he was to be understood as come in 
+David or in Solomon, was long delayed, but who, according as God had 
+disposed, was to come in His own time. The following part of this psalm 
+goes on to say what in the meantime, while He was delayed, was to 
+become of the kingdom of the earthly Jerusalem, where it was hoped He 
+would certainly reign: “Thou hast overthrown the covenant of Thy 
+servant; Thou hast profaned in the earth his sanctuary. Thou hast broken 
+down all his walls; Thou hast put his strongholds in fear. All that pass by 
+the way spoil him; he is made a reproach to his neighbours. Thou hast 
+set up the right hand of his enemies; Thou hast made all his enemies to 
+rejoice. Thou hast turned aside the help of his sword, and hast not 
+helped him in war. Thou hast destroyed him from cleansing; Thou hast 
+dashed down his seat to the ground. Thou hast shortened the days of his 
+seat; Thou hast poured confusion over him.”79 All these things came 
+upon Jerusalem the bond woman, in which some also reigned who were 
+children of the free woman, holding that kingdom in temporary 
+stewardship, but holding the kingdom of the heavenly Jerusalem, whose 
+children they were, in true faith, and hoping in the true Christ. But how 
+these things came upon that kingdom, the history of its affairs points out 
+
+
+if it is read. 
+
+
+11. Of the substance of the people of God, which through His assumption of flesh is in Christ, 
+
+
+who alone had power to deliver His own soul from hell 
+
+
+But after having prophesied these things, the prophet betakes him to 
+praying to God; yet even the very prayer is prophecy: “How long, Lord, 
+dost Thou turn away in the end?”80 “Thy face” is understood, as it is 
+elsewhere said, “How long dost Thou turn away Thy face from me?”81! 
+For therefore some copies have here not “dost,” but “wilt Thou turn 
+away;” although it could be understood, “Thou turnest away Thy mercy, 
+which Thou didst promise to David.” But when he says, “in the end,” 
+what does it mean, except even to the end? By which end is to be 
+understood the last time, when even that nation is to believe in Christ 
+Jesus, before which end what He has just sorrowfully bewailed must 
+come to pass. On account of which it is also added here, “Thy wrath 
+shall burn like fire. Remember what is my substance.”82 This cannot be 
+better understood than of Jesus Himself, the substance of His people, of 
+whose nature His flesh is. “For not in vain,” he says, “hast Thou made all 
+the sons of men.”83 For unless the one Son of man had been the 
+substance of Israel, through which Son of man many sons of men should 
+be set free, all the sons of men would have been made wholly in vain. 
+But now indeed all mankind through the fall of the first man has fallen 
+from the truth into vanity; for which reason another psalm says, “Man is 
+like to vanity: his days pass away as a shadow;”84 yet God has not made 
+all the sons of men in vain, because He frees many from vanity through 
+the Mediator Jesus, and those whom He did not foreknow as to be 
+delivered, He made not wholly in vain in the most beautiful and most 
+just ordination of the whole rational creation, for the use of those who 
+were to be delivered, and for the comparison of the two cities by mutual 
+contrast. Thereafter it follows, “Who is the man that shall live, and shall 
+not see death? shall he snatch his soul from the hand of hell?”85 Who is 
+this but that substance of Israel out of the seed of David, Christ Jesus, of 
+whom the apostle says, that “rising from the dead He now dieth not, and 
+death shall no more have dominion over Him?”86 For He shall so live 
+and not see death, that yet He shall have been dead; but shall have 
+delivered His soul from the hand of hell, whither He had descended in 
+order to loose some from the chains of hell; but He hath delivered it by 
+
+
+that power of which He says in the Gospel, “I have the power of laying 
+down my life, and I have the power of taking it again.”87 
+
+
+12. To whose person the entreaty for the promises is to be understood to belong, when he says in 
+
+
+the psalm, “Where are Thine ancient compassions, Lord?” etc. 
+
+
+But the rest of this psalm runs thus: “Where are Thine ancient 
+compassions, Lord, which Thou swarest unto David in Thy truth? 
+Remember, Lord, the reproach of Thy servants, which I have borne in 
+my bosom of many nations; wherewith Thine enemies have reproached, 
+O Lord, wherewith they have reproached the change of Thy Christ.”88 
+Now it may with very good reason be asked whether this is spoken in 
+the person of those Israelites who desired that the promise made to 
+David might be fulfilled to them; or rather of the Christians, who are 
+Israelites not after the flesh but after the Spirit.89 This certainly was 
+spoken or written in the time of Ethan, from whose name this psalm gets 
+its title, and that was the same as the time of David’s reign; and 
+therefore it would not have been said, “Where are Thine ancient 
+compassions, Lord, which Thou hast sworn unto David in Thy truth?” 
+unless the prophet had assumed the person of those who should come 
+long afterwards, to whom that time when these things were promised to 
+David was ancient. But it may be understood thus, that many nations, 
+when they persecuted the Christians, reproached them with the passion 
+of Christ, which Scripture calls His change, because by dying He is made 
+immortal. The change of Christ, according to this passage, may also be 
+understood to be reproached by the Israelites, because, when they hoped 
+He would be theirs, He was made the Saviour of the nations; and many 
+nations who have believed in Him by the New Testament now reproach 
+them who remain in the old with this: so that it is said, “Remember, 
+Lord, the reproach of Thy servants;” because through the Lord’s not 
+forgetting, but rather pitying them, even they after this reproach are to 
+believe. But what I have put first seems to me the most suitable 
+meaning. For to the enemies of Christ who are reproached with this, that 
+Christ hath left them, turning to the Gentiles,90 this speech is 
+incongruously assigned, “Remember, Lord, the reproach of Thy 
+servants,” for such Jews are not to be styled the servants of God; but 
+these words fit those who, if they suffered great humiliations through 
+persecution for the name of Christ, could call to mind that an exalted 
+
+
+kingdom had been promised to the seed of David, and in desire of it, 
+could say not despairingly, but as asking, seeking, knocking,?! “Where 
+are Thine ancient compassions, Lord, which Thou swarest unto David in 
+Thy truth? Remember, Lord, the reproach of Thy servants, that I have 
+borne in my bosom of many nations;” that is, have patiently endured in 
+my inward parts. “That Thine enemies have reproached, O Lord, 
+wherewith they have reproached the change of Thy Christ,” not thinking 
+it a change, but a consumption.92 But what does “Remember, Lord,” 
+mean, but that Thou wouldst have compassion, and wouldst for my 
+patiently borne humiliation reward me with the excellency which Thou 
+swarest unto David in Thy truth? But if we assign these words to the 
+Jews, those servants of God who, on the conquest of the earthly 
+Jerusalem, before Jesus Christ was born after the manner of men, were 
+led into captivity, could say such things, understanding the change of 
+Christ, because indeed through Him was to be surely expected, not an 
+earthly and carnal felicity, such as appeared during the few years of king 
+Solomon, but a heavenly and spiritual felicity; and when the nations, 
+then ignorant of this through unbelief, exulted over and insulted the 
+people of God for being captives, what else was this than ignorantly to 
+reproach with the change of Christ those who understand the change of 
+Christ? And therefore what follows when this psalm is concluded, “Let 
+the blessing of the Lord be for evermore, amen, amen,” is suitable 
+enough for the whole people of God belonging to the heavenly 
+Jerusalem, whether for those things that lay hid in the Old Testament 
+before the New was revealed, or for those that, being now revealed in 
+the New Testament, are manifestly discerned to belong to Christ. For the 
+blessing of the Lord in the seed of David does not belong to any 
+particular time, such as appeared in the days of Solomon, but is for 
+evermore to be hoped for, in which most certain hope it is said, “Amen, 
+amen;” for this repetition of the word is the confirmation of that hope. 
+Therefore David understanding this, says in the second Book of Kings, in 
+the passage from which we digressed to this psalm,93 “Thou hast spoken 
+also for Thy servant’s house for a great while to come.”94 Therefore also 
+a little after he says, “Now begin, and bless the house of Thy servant for 
+evermore,” etc., because the son was then about to be born from whom 
+his posterity should be continued to Christ, through whom his house 
+should be eternal, and should also be the house of God. For it is called 
+
+
+the house of David on account of David’s race; but the selfsame is called 
+the house of God on account of the temple of God, made of men, not of 
+stones, where shall dwell for evermore the people with and in their God, 
+and God with and in His people, so that God may fill His people, and the 
+people be filled with their God, while God shall be all in all, Himself 
+their reward in peace who is their strength in war. Therefore, when it is 
+said in the words of Nathan, “And the Lord will tell thee what an house 
+thou shalt build for Him,”95 it is afterwards said in the words of David, 
+“For Thou, Lord Almighty, God of Israel, hast opened the ear of Thy 
+servant, saying, I will build thee an house.”96 For this house is built both 
+by us through living well, and by God through helping us to live well; 
+for “except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it.”97 
+And when the final dedication of this house shall take place, then what 
+God here says by Nathan shall be fulfilled, “And I will appoint a place 
+for my people Israel, and will plant him, and he shall dwell apart, and 
+shall be troubled no more; and the son of iniquity shall not humble him 
+any more, as from the beginning, from the days when I appointed judges 
+over my people Israel.”98 
+
+
+13. Whether the truth of this promised peace can be ascribed to those times passed away under 
+Solomon 
+
+
+Whoever hopes for this so great good in this world, and in this earth, 
+his wisdom is but folly. Can any one think it was fulfilled in the peace of 
+Solomon’s reign? Scripture certainly commends that peace with excellent 
+praise as a shadow of that which is to come. But this opinion is to be 
+vigilantly opposed, since after it is said, “And the son of iniquity shall 
+not humble him any more,” it is immediately added, “as from the 
+beginning, from the days in which I appointed judges over my people 
+Israel.”99 For the judges were appointed over that people from the time 
+when they received the land of promise, before kings had begun to be 
+there. And certainly the son of iniquity, that is, the foreign enemy, 
+humbled him through periods of time in which we read that peace 
+alternated with wars; and in that period longer times of peace are found 
+than Solomon had, who reigned forty years. For under that judge who is 
+called Ehud there were eighty years of peace.!00 Be it far from us, 
+therefore, that we should believe the times of Solomon are predicted in 
+this promise, much less indeed those of any other king whatever. For 
+
+
+none other of them reigned in such great peace as he; nor did that nation 
+ever at all hold that kingdom so as to have no anxiety lest it should be 
+subdued by enemies: for in the very great mutability of human affairs 
+such great security is never given to any people, that it should not dread 
+invasions hostile to this life. Therefore the place of this promised 
+peaceful and secure habitation is eternal, and of right belongs eternally 
+to Jerusalem the free mother, where the genuine people of Israel shall 
+be: for this name is interpreted “Seeing God;” in the desire of which 
+reward a pious life is to be led through faith in this miserable 
+pilgrimage. 101 
+
+
+14. Of David’s concern in the writing of the Psalms 
+
+
+In the progress of the city of God through the ages, therefore, David 
+first reigned in the earthly Jerusalem as a shadow of that which was to 
+come. Now David was a man skilled in songs, who dearly loved musical 
+harmony, not with a vulgar delight, but with a believing disposition, and 
+by it served his God, who is the true God, by the mystical representation 
+of a great thing. For the rational and well-ordered concord of diverse 
+sounds in harmonious variety suggests the compact unity of the well- 
+ordered city. Then almost all his prophecy is in psalms, of which a 
+hundred and fifty are contained in what we call the Book of Psalms, of 
+which some will have it those only were made by David which are 
+inscribed with his name. But there are also some who think none of 
+them were made by him except those which are marked “Of David;” but 
+those which have in the title “For David” have been made by others who 
+assumed his person. Which opinion is refuted by the voice of the Saviour 
+Himself in the Gospel, when He says that David himself by the Spirit 
+said Christ was his Lord; for the 110th Psalm begins thus, “The Lord said 
+unto my Lord, Sit Thou at my right hand, until I make thine enemies Thy 
+footstool.”102 And truly that very psalm, like many more, has in the title, 
+not “of David,” but “for David.” But those seem to me to hold the more 
+credible opinion, who ascribe to him the authorship of all these hundred 
+and fifty psalms, and think that he prefixed to some of them the names 
+even of other men, who prefigured something pertinent to the matter, 
+but chose to have no man’s name in the titles of the rest, just as God 
+inspired him in the management of this variety, which, although dark, is 
+not meaningless. Neither ought it to move one not to believe this, that 
+
+
+the names of some prophets who lived long after the times of king David 
+are read in the inscriptions of certain psalms in that book, and that the 
+things said there seem to be spoken as it were by them. Nor was the 
+prophetic Spirit unable to reveal to king David, when he prophesied, 
+even these names of future prophets, so that he might prophetically sing 
+something which should suit their persons; just as it was revealed to a 
+certain prophet that king Josiah should arise and reign after more than 
+three hundred years, who predicted his future deeds also along with his 
+name. 103 
+
+
+15. Whether all the things prophesied in the Psalms concerning Christ and His Church should be 
+taken up in the text of this work 
+
+
+And now I see it may be expected of me that I shall open up in this 
+part of this book what David may have prophesied in the Psalms 
+concerning the Lord Jesus Christ or His Church. But although I have 
+already done so in one instance, I am prevented from doing as that 
+expectation seems to demand, rather by the abundance than the scarcity 
+of matter. For the necessity of shunning prolixity forbids my setting 
+down all things; yet I fear lest if I select some I shall appear to many, 
+who know these things, to have passed by the more necessary. Besides, 
+the proof that is adduced ought to be supported by the context of the 
+whole psalm, so that at least there may be nothing against it if 
+everything does not support it; lest we should seem, after the fashion of 
+the centos, to gather for the thing we wish, as it were verses out of a 
+grand poem, what shall be found to have been written not about it, but 
+about some other and widely different thing. But ere this could be 
+pointed out in each psalm, the whole of it must be expounded; and how 
+great a work that would be, the volumes of others, as well as our own, in 
+which we have done it, show well enough. Let him then who will, or 
+can, read these volumes, and he will find out how many and great things 
+David, at once king and prophet, has prophesied concerning Christ and 
+His Church, to wit, concerning the King and the city which He has built. 
+
+
+16. Of the things pertaining to Christ and the Church, said either openly or tropically in the 45th 
+Psalm 
+
+
+For whatever direct and manifest prophetic utterances there may be 
+about anything, it is necessary that those which are tropical should be 
+
+
+mingled with them; which, chiefly on account of those of slower 
+understanding, thrust upon the more learned the laborious task of 
+clearing up and expounding them. Some of them, indeed, on the very 
+first blush, as soon as they are spoken, exhibit Christ and the Church, 
+although some things in them that are less intelligible remain to be 
+expounded at leisure. We have an example of this in that same Book of 
+Psalms: “My heart bubbled up a good matter: I utter my words to the 
+king. My tongue is the pen of a scribe, writing swiftly. Thy form is 
+beautiful beyond the sons of men; grace is poured out in Thy lips: 
+therefore God hath blessed Thee for evermore. Gird Thy sword about 
+Thy thigh, O Most Mighty. With Thy goodliness and Thy beauty go 
+forward, proceed prosperously, and reign, because of Thy truth, and 
+meekness, and righteousness; and Thy right hand shall lead Thee forth 
+wonderfully. Thy sharp arrows are most powerful. The people shall fall 
+under Thee: in the heart of the King’s enemies. Thy throne, O God, is for 
+ever and ever: a rod of direction is the rod of Thy kingdom. Thou hast 
+loved righteousness, and hast hated iniquity: therefore God, Thy God, 
+hath anointed Thee with the oil of exultation above Thy fellows. Myrrh 
+and drops, and cassia from Thy vestments, from the houses of ivory: out 
+of which the daughters of kings have delighted Thee in Thine 
+honour.”1!04 Who is there, no matter how slow, but must here recognise 
+Christ whom we preach, and in whom we believe, if he hears that He is 
+God, whose throne is for ever and ever, and that He is anointed by God, 
+as God indeed anoints, not with a visible, but with a spiritual and 
+intelligible chrism? For who is so untaught in this religion, or so deaf to 
+its far and wide spread fame, as not to know that Christ is named from 
+this chrism, that is, from this anointing? But when it is acknowledged 
+that this King is Christ, let each one who is already subject to Him who 
+reigns because of truth, meekness, and righteousness, inquire at his 
+leisure into these other things that are here said tropically: how His form 
+is beautiful beyond the sons of men, with a certain beauty that is the 
+more to be loved and admired the less it is corporeal; and what His 
+sword, arrows, and other things of that kind may be, which are set 
+down, not properly, but tropically. 
+
+Then let him look upon His Church, joined to her so great Husband in 
+spiritual marriage and divine love, of which it is said in these words 
+which follow, “The queen stood upon Thy right hand in gold- 
+
+
+embroidered vestments, girded about with variety. Hearken, O daughter, 
+and look, and incline thine ear; forget also thy people, and thy father’s 
+house. Because the King hath greatly desired thy beauty; for He is the 
+Lord thy God. And the daughters of Tyre shall worship Him with gifts; 
+the rich among the people shall entreat Thy face. The daughter of the 
+King has all her glory within, in golden fringes, girded about with 
+variety. The virgins shall be brought after her to the King: her 
+neighbours shall be brought to Thee. They shall be brought with 
+gladness and exultation: they shall be led into the temple of the King. 
+Instead of thy fathers, sons shall be born to thee: thou shalt establish 
+them as princes over all the earth. They shall be mindful of thy name in 
+every generation and descent. Therefore shall the people acknowledge 
+thee for evermore, even for ever and ever.”!95 I do not think any one is 
+so stupid as to believe that some poor woman is here praised and 
+described, as the spouse, to wit, of Him to whom it is said, “Thy throne, 
+O God, is for ever and ever: a rod of direction is the rod of Thy kingdom. 
+Thou hast loved righteousness and hated iniquity: therefore God, Thy 
+God, hath anointed Thee with the oil of exultation above Thy 
+fellows;”196 that is, plainly, Christ above Christians. For these are His 
+fellows, out of the unity and concord of whom in all nations that queen 
+is formed, as it is said of her in another psalm, “The city of the great 
+King.”107 The same is Sion spiritually, which name in Latin is interpreted 
+speculatio (discovery); for she descries the great good of the world to 
+come, because her attention is directed thither. In the same way she is 
+also Jerusalem spiritually, of which we have already said many things. 
+Her enemy is the city of the devil, Babylon, which is interpreted 
+“confusion.” Yet out of this Babylon this queen is in all nations set free 
+by regeneration, and passes from the worst to the best King—that is, 
+from the devil to Christ. Wherefore it is said to her, “Forget thy people 
+and thy father’s house.” Of this impious city those also are a portion who 
+are Israelites only in the flesh and not by faith, enemies also of this great 
+King Himself, and of His queen. For Christ, having come to them, and 
+been slain by them, has the more become the King of others, whom He 
+did not see in the flesh. Whence our King Himself says through the 
+prophecy of a certain psalm, “Thou wilt deliver me from the 
+contradictions of the people; Thou wilt make me head of the nations. A 
+people whom I have not known hath served me: in the hearing of the ear 
+
+
+it hath obeyed me.”198 Therefore this people of the nations, which Christ 
+did not know in His bodily presence, yet has believed in that Christ as 
+announced to it; so that it might be said of it with good reason, “In the 
+hearing of the ear it hath obeyed me,” for “faith is by hearing.”!09 This 
+people, I say, added to those who are the true Israelites both by the flesh 
+and by faith, is the city of God, which has brought forth Christ Himself 
+according to the flesh, since He was in these Israelites only. For thence 
+came the Virgin Mary, in whom Christ assumed flesh that He might be a 
+man. Of which city another psalm says, “Mother Sion, shall a man say, 
+and the man is made in her, and the Highest Himself hath founded 
+her.”110 Who is this Highest, save God? And thus Christ, who is God, 
+before He became man through Mary in that city, Himself founded it by 
+the patriarchs and prophets. As therefore was said by prophecy so long 
+before to this queen, the city of God, what we already can see fulfilled, 
+“Instead of thy fathers, sons are born to thee; thou shalt make them 
+princes over all the earth;”!11 so out of her sons truly are set up even her 
+fathers [princes] through all the earth, when the people, coming 
+together to her, confess to her with the confession of eternal praise for 
+ever and ever. Beyond doubt, whatever interpretation is put on what is 
+here expressed somewhat darkly in figurative language, ought to be in 
+agreement with these most manifest things. 
+
+
+17. Of those things in the 110th Psalm which relate to the priesthood of Christ, and in the 22d 
+
+
+to His passion 
+
+
+Just as in that psalm also where Christ is most openly proclaimed as 
+Priest, even as He is here as King, “The Lord said unto my Lord, Sit Thou 
+at my right hand, until I make Thine enemies Thy footstool.”!!2 That 
+Christ sits on the right hand of God the Father is believed, not seen; that 
+His enemies also are put under His feet doth not yet appear; it is being 
+done, [therefore] it will appear at last: yea, this is now believed, 
+afterward it shall be seen. But what follows, “The Lord will send forth 
+the rod of Thy strength out of Sion, and rule Thou in the midst of Thine 
+enemies,”!13 is so clear, that to deny it would imply not merely unbelief 
+and mistake, but downright impudence. And even enemies must 
+certainly confess that out of Sion has been sent the law of Christ which 
+we call the gospel, and acknowledge as the rod of His strength. But that 
+He rules in the midst of His enemies, these same enemies among whom 
+
+
+He rules themselves bear witness, gnashing their teeth and consuming 
+away, and having power to do nothing against Him. Then what he says a 
+little after, “The Lord hath sworn and will not repent,”!!14 by which 
+words He intimates that what He adds is immutable, “Thou art a priest 
+for ever after the order of Melchizedek,”115 who is permitted to doubt of 
+whom these things are said, seeing that now there is nowhere a 
+priesthood and sacrifice after the order of Aaron, and everywhere men 
+offer under Christ as the Priest, which Melchezidek showed when he 
+blessed Abraham? Therefore to these manifest things are to be referred, 
+when rightly understood, those things in the same psalm that are set 
+down a little more obscurely, and we have already made known in our 
+popular sermons how these things are to be rightly understood. So also 
+in that where Christ utters through prophecy the humiliation of His 
+passion, saying, “They pierced my hands and feet; they counted all my 
+bones. Yea, they looked and stared at me.”!16 By which words he 
+certainly meant His body stretched out on the cross, with the hands and 
+feet pierced and perforated by the striking through of the nails, and that 
+He had in that way made Himself a spectacle to those who looked and 
+stared. And he adds, “They parted my garments among them, and over 
+my vesture they cast lots.”117 How this prophecy has been fulfilled the 
+Gospel history narrates. Then, indeed, the other things also which are 
+said there less openly are rightly understood when they agree with those 
+which shine with so great clearness; especially because those things also 
+which we do not believe as past, but survey as present, are beheld by the 
+whole world, being now exhibited just as they are read of in this very 
+psalm as predicted so long before. For it is there said a little after, “All 
+the ends of the earth shall remember, and turn unto the Lord, and all the 
+kindreds of the nations shall worship before Him; for the kingdom is the 
+Lord’s, and He shall rule the nations.” 
+
+
+18. Of the 3d, 41st, 15th, and 68th Psalms, in which the death and resurrection of the Lord are 
+prophesied 
+
+
+About His resurrection also the oracles of the Psalms are by no means 
+silent. For what else is it that is sung in His person in the 3d Psalm, “I 
+laid me down and took a sleep, [and] I awaked, for the Lord shall 
+sustain me?”!118 Is there perchance any one so stupid as to believe that 
+the prophet chose to point it out to us as something great that He had 
+
+
+slept and risen up, unless that sleep had been death, and that awaking 
+the resurrection, which behoved to be thus prophesied concerning 
+Christ? For in the 41st Psalm also it is shown much more clearly, where 
+in the person of the Mediator, in the usual way, things are narrated as if 
+past which were prophesied as yet to come, since these things which 
+were yet to come were in the predestination and foreknowledge of God 
+as if they were done, because they were certain. He says, “Mine enemies 
+speak evil of me; When shall he die, and his name perish? And if he 
+came in to see me, his heart spake vain things: he gathered iniquity to 
+himself. He went out of doors, and uttered it all at once. Against me all 
+mine enemies whisper together: against me do they devise evil. They 
+have planned an unjust thing against me. Shall not he that sleeps also 
+rise again?”!19 These words are certainly so set down here that he may 
+be understood to say nothing else than if he said, Shall not He that died 
+recover life again? The previous words clearly show that His enemies 
+have meditated and planned His death, and that this was executed by 
+him who came in to see, and went out to betray. But to whom does not 
+Judas here occur, who, from being His disciple, became His betrayer? 
+Therefore because they were about to do what they had plotted—that is, 
+were about to kill Him—he, to show them that with useless malice they 
+were about to kill Him who should rise again, so adds this verse, as if he 
+said, What vain thing are you doing? What will be your crime will be my 
+sleep. “Shall not He that sleeps also rise again?” And yet he indicates in 
+the following verses that they should not commit so great an impiety 
+with impunity, saying, “Yea, the man of my peace in whom I trusted, 
+who ate my bread, hath enlarged the heel over me;”!29 that is, hath 
+trampled me under foot. “But Thou,” he saith, “O Lord, be merciful unto 
+me, and raise me up, that I may requite them.”121 Who can now deny 
+this who sees the Jews, after the passion and resurrection of Christ, 
+utterly rooted up from their abodes by warlike slaughter and 
+destruction? For, being slain by them, He has risen again, and has 
+requited them meanwhile by temporary discipline, save that for those 
+who are not corrected He keeps it in store for the time when He shall 
+judge the quick and the dead.122 For the Lord Jesus Himself, in pointing 
+out that very man to the apostles as His betrayer, quoted this very verse 
+of this psalm, and said it was fulfilled in Himself: “He that ate my bread 
+enlarged the heel over me.” But what he says, “In whom I trusted,” does 
+
+
+not suit the head but the body. For the Saviour Himself was not ignorant 
+of him concerning whom He had already said before, “One of you is a 
+devil.”123 But He is wont to assume the person of His members, and to 
+ascribe to Himself what should be said of them, because the head and 
+body is one Christ;!24 whence that saying in the Gospel, “I was an 
+hungered, and ye gave me to eat.”!25 Expounding which, He says, “Since 
+ye did it to one of the least of mine, ye did it to me.”1!26 Therefore He 
+said that He had trusted, because His disciples then had trusted 
+concerning Judas; for he was numbered with the apostles.127 
+
+But the Jews do not expect that the Christ whom they expect will die; 
+therefore they do not think ours to be Him whom the law and the 
+prophets announced, but feign to themselves I know not whom of their 
+own, exempt from the suffering of death. Therefore, with wonderful 
+emptiness and blindness, they contend that the words we have set down 
+signify, not death and resurrection, but sleep and awaking again. But the 
+16th Psalm also cries to them, “Therefore my heart is jocund, and my 
+tongue hath exulted; moreover, my flesh also shall rest in hope: for Thou 
+wilt not leave my soul in hell; neither wilt Thou give Thine Holy One to 
+see corruption.”!28 Who but He that rose again the third day could say 
+His flesh had rested in this hope; that His soul, not being left in hell, but 
+speedily returning to it, should revive it, that it should not be corrupted 
+as corpses are wont to be, which they can in no wise say of David the 
+prophet and king? The 68th Psalm also cries out, “Our God is the God of 
+salvation: even of the Lord the exit was by death.”!29 What could be 
+more openly said? For the God of salvation is the Lord Jesus, which is 
+interpreted Saviour, or Healing One. For this reason this name was 
+given, when it was said before He was born of the virgin: “Thou shalt 
+bring forth a Son, and shalt call his name Jesus; for He shall save His 
+people from their sins.”!130 Because His blood was shed for the remission 
+of their sins, it behoved Him to have no other exit from this life than 
+death. Therefore, when it had been said, “Our God is the God of 
+salvation,” immediately it was added, “Even of the Lord the exit was by 
+death,” in order to show that we were to be saved by His dying. But that 
+saying is marvellous, “Even of the Lord,” as if it was said, Such is that 
+life of mortals, that not even the Lord Himself could go out of it 
+otherwise save through death. 
+
+
+19. Of the 69th Psalm, in which the obstinate unbelief of the Jews is declared 
+
+
+But when the Jews will not in the least yield to the testimonies of this 
+prophecy, which are so manifest, and are also brought by events to so 
+clear and certain a completion, certainly that is fulfilled in them which is 
+written in that psalm which here follows. For when the things which 
+pertain to His passion are prophetically spoken there also in the person 
+of Christ, that is mentioned which is unfolded in the Gospel: “They gave 
+me gall for my meat; and in my thirst they gave me vinegar for 
+drink.”!31 And as it were after such a feast and dainties in this way given 
+to Himself, presently He brings in [these words]: “Let their table become 
+a trap before them, and a retribution, and an offence: let their eyes be 
+dimmed that they see not, and their back be always bowed down,”!32 
+etc. Which things are not spoken as wished for, but are predicted under 
+the prophetic form of wishing. What wonder, then, if those whose eyes 
+are dimmed that they see not do not see these manifest things? What 
+wonder if those do not look up at heavenly things whose back is always 
+bowed down that they may grovel among earthly things? For these 
+words transferred from the body signify mental faults. Let these things 
+which have been said about the Psalms, that is, about king David’s 
+prophecy, suffice, that we may keep within some bound. But let those 
+readers excuse us who knew them all before; and let them not complain 
+about those perhaps stronger proofs which they know or think I have 
+passed by. 
+
+
+20. Of David’s reign and merit; and of his son Solomon, and that prophecy relating to Christ which 
+is found either in those books which are joined to those written by him, or in those which are 
+indubitably his 
+
+
+David therefore reigned in the earthly Jerusalem, a son of the 
+heavenly Jerusalem, much praised by the divine testimony; for even his 
+faults are overcome by great piety, through the most salutary humility of 
+his repentance, that he is altogether one of those of whom he himself 
+says, “Blessed are they whose iniquities are forgiven, and whose sins are 
+covered.”133 After him Solomon his son reigned over the same whole 
+people, who, as was said before, began to reign while his father was still 
+alive. This man, after good beginnings, made a bad end. For indeed 
+“prosperity, which wears out the minds of the wise,”!34 hurt him more 
+than that wisdom profited him, which even yet is and shall hereafter be 
+
+
+renowned, and was then praised far and wide. He also is found to have 
+prophesied in his books, of which three are received as of canonical 
+authority, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and the Song of Songs. But it has been 
+customary to ascribe to Solomon other two, of which one is called 
+Wisdom, the other Ecclesiasticus, on account of some resemblance of 
+style—but the more learned have no doubt that they are not his; yet of 
+old the Church, especially the Western, received them into authority—in 
+the one of which, called the Wisdom of Solomon, the passion of Christ is 
+most openly prophesied. For indeed His impious murderers are quoted as 
+saying, “Let us lie in wait for the righteous, for he is unpleasant to us, 
+and contrary to our works; and he upbraideth us with our transgressions 
+of the law, and objecteth to our disgrace the transgressions of our 
+education. He professeth to have the knowledge of God, and he calleth 
+himself the Son of God. He was made to reprove our thoughts. He is 
+grievous for us even to behold; for his life is unlike other men’s, and his 
+ways are different. We are esteemed of him as counterfeits; and he 
+abstaineth from our ways as from filthiness. He extols the latter end of 
+the righteous; and glorieth that he hath God for his Father. Let us see, 
+therefore, if his words be true; and let us try what shall happen to him, 
+and we shall know what shall be the end of him. For if the righteous be 
+the Son of God, He will undertake for him, and deliver him out of the 
+hand of those that are against him. Let us put him to the question with 
+contumely and torture, that we may know his reverence, and prove his 
+patience. Let us condemn him to the most shameful death; for by His 
+own sayings He shall be respected. These things did they imagine, and 
+were mistaken; for their own malice hath quite blinded them.”!35 But in 
+Ecclesiasticus the future faith of the nations is predicted in this manner: 
+“Have mercy upon us, O God, Ruler of all, and send Thy fear upon all 
+the nations: lift up Thine hand over the strange nations, and let them see 
+Thy power. As Thou wast sanctified in us before them, so be Thou 
+sanctified in them before us, and let them acknowledge Thee, according 
+as we also have acknowledged Thee; for there is not a God beside Thee, 
+O Lord.”136 We see this prophecy in the form of a wish and prayer 
+fulfilled through Jesus Christ. But the things which are not written in the 
+canon of the Jews cannot be quoted against their contradictions with so 
+great validity. 
+
+But as regards those three books which it is evident are Solomon’s, 
+
+
+and held canonical by the Jews, to show what of this kind may be found 
+in them pertaining to Christ and the Church demands a laborious 
+discussion, which, if now entered on, would lengthen this work unduly. 
+Yet what we read in the Proverbs of impious men saying, “Let us 
+unrighteously hide in the earth the righteous man; yea, let us swallow 
+him up alive as hell, and let us take away his memory from the earth: let 
+us seize his precious possession,”1!37 is not so obscure that it may not be 
+understood, without laborious exposition, of Christ and His possession 
+the Church. Indeed, the gospel parable about the wicked husbandmen 
+shows that our Lord Jesus Himself said something like it: “This is the 
+heir; come, let us kill him, and the inheritance shall be ours.”!38 In like 
+manner also that passage in this same book, on which we have already 
+touched!39 when we were speaking of the barren woman who hath born 
+seven, must soon after it was uttered have come to be understood of only 
+Christ and the Church by those who knew that Christ was the Wisdom of 
+God. “Wisdom hath builded her an house, and hath set up seven pillars; 
+she hath sacrificed her victims, she hath mingled her wine in the bowl; 
+she hath also furnished her table. She hath sent her servants summoning 
+to the bowl with excellent proclamation, saying, Who is simple, let him 
+turn aside to me. And to the void of sense she hath said, Come, eat of my 
+bread, and drink of the wine which I have mingled for you.”!49 Here 
+certainly we perceive that the Wisdom of God, that is, the Word co- 
+eternal with the Father, hath builded Him an house, even a human body 
+in the virgin womb, and hath subjoined the Church to it as members to a 
+head, hath slain the martyrs as victims, hath furnished a table with wine 
+and bread, where appears also the priesthood after the order of 
+Melchizedek, and hath called the simple and the void of sense, because, 
+as saith the apostle, “He hath chosen the weak things of this world that 
+He might confound the things which are mighty.”!4! Yet to these weak 
+ones she saith what follows, “Forsake simplicity, that ye may live; and 
+seek prudence, that ye may have life.”!142 But to be made partakers of 
+this table is itself to begin to have life. For when he says in another 
+book, which is called Ecclesiastes, “There is no good for a man, except 
+that he should eat and drink,”!43 what can he be more credibly 
+understood to say, than what belongs to the participation of this table 
+which the Mediator of the New Testament Himself, the Priest after the 
+order of Melchizedek, furnishes with His own body and blood? For that 
+
+
+sacrifice has succeeded all the sacrifices of the Old Testament, which 
+were slain as a shadow of that which was to come; wherefore also we 
+recognise the voice in the 40th Psalm as that of the same Mediator 
+speaking through prophecy, “Sacrifice and offering Thou didst not 
+desire; but a body hast Thou perfected for me.”144 Because, instead of all 
+these sacrifices and oblations, His body is offered, and is served up to the 
+partakers of it. For that this Ecclesiastes, in this sentence about eating 
+and drinking, which he often repeats, and very much commends, does 
+not savour the dainties of carnal pleasures, is made plain enough when 
+he says, “It is better to go into the house of mourning than to go into the 
+house of feasting.”!45 And a little after He says, “The heart of the wise is 
+in the house of mourning, and the heart of the simple in the house of 
+feasting.”146 But I think that more worthy of quotation from this book 
+which relates to both cities, the one of the devil, the other of Christ, and 
+to their kings, the devil and Christ: “Woe to thee, O land,” he says, 
+“when thy king is a youth, and thy princes eat in the morning! Blessed 
+art thou, O land, when thy king is the son of nobles, and thy princes eat 
+in season, in fortitude, and not in confusion!”147 He has called the devil 
+a youth, because of the folly and pride, and rashness and unruliness, and 
+other vices which are wont to abound at that age; but Christ is the Son 
+of nobles, that is, of the holy patriarchs, of those belonging to the free 
+city, of whom He was begotten in the flesh. The princes of that and other 
+cities are eaters in the morning, that is, before the suitable hour, because 
+they do not expect the seasonable felicity, which is the true, in the world 
+to come, desiring to be speedily made happy with the renown of this 
+world; but the princes of the city of Christ patiently wait for the time of 
+a blessedness that is not fallacious. This is expressed by the words, “in 
+fortitude, and not in confusion,” because hope does not deceive them; of 
+which the apostle says, “But hope maketh not ashamed.”1!48 A psalm also 
+saith, “For they that hope in Thee shall not be put to shame.”!49 But now 
+the Song of Songs is a certain spiritual pleasure of holy minds, in the 
+marriage of that King and Queen-city, that is, Christ and the Church. But 
+this pleasure is wrapped up in allegorical veils, that the Bridegroom may 
+be more ardently desired, and more joyfully unveiled, and may appear; 
+to whom it is said in this same song, “Equity hath delighted Thee;”1!5° 
+and the bride who those hears, “Charity is in thy delights.”!5! We pass 
+over many things in silence, in our desire to finish this work. 
+
+
+21. Of the kings after Solomon, both in Judah and Israel 
+
+
+The other kings of the Hebrews after Solomon are scarcely found to 
+have prophesied, through certain enigmatic words or actions of theirs, 
+what may pertain to Christ and the Church, either in Judah or Israel; for 
+so were the parts of that people styled, when, on account of Solomon’s 
+offence, from the time of Rehoboam his son, who succeeded him in the 
+kingdom, it was divided by God as a punishment. The ten tribes, indeed, 
+which Jeroboam the servant of Solomon received, being appointed the 
+king in Samaria, were distinctively called Israel, although this had been 
+the name of that whole people; but the two tribes, namely, of Judah and 
+Benjamin, which for David’s sake, lest the kingdom should be wholly 
+wrenched from his race, remained subject to the city of Jerusalem, were 
+called Judah, because that was the tribe whence David sprang. But 
+Benjamin, the other tribe which, as was said, belonged to the same 
+kingdom, was that whence Saul sprang before David. But these two 
+tribes together, as was said, were called Judah, and were distinguished 
+by this name from Israel, which was the distinctive title of the ten tribes 
+under their own king. For the tribe of Levi, because it was the priestly 
+one, bound to the servitude of God, not of the kings, was reckoned the 
+thirteenth. For Joseph, one of the twelve sons of Israel, did not, like the 
+others, form one tribe, but two, Ephraim and Manasseh. Yet the tribe of 
+Levi also belonged more to the kingdom of Jerusalem, where was the 
+temple of God whom it served. On the division of the people, therefore, 
+Rehoboam, son of Solomon, reigned in Jerusalem as the first king of 
+Judah, and Jeroboam, servant of Solomon, in Samaria as king of Israel. 
+And when Rehoboam wished as a tyrant to pursue that separated part 
+with war, the people were prohibited from fighting with their brethren 
+by God, who told them through a prophet that He had done this; whence 
+it appeared that in this matter there had been no sin either of the king or 
+people of Israel, but the accomplished will of God the avenger. When 
+this was known, both parts settled down peaceably, for the division 
+made was not religious but political. 
+
+
+22. Of Jeroboam, who profaned the people put under him by the impiety of idolatry, amid which, 
+however, God did not cease to inspire the prophets, and to guard many from the crime of 
+idolatry 
+
+
+But Jeroboam king of Israel, with perverse mind, not believing in God, 
+
+
+whom he had proved true in promising and giving him the kingdom, 
+was afraid lest, by coming to the temple of God which was in Jerusalem, 
+where, according to the divine law, that whole nation was to come in 
+order to sacrifice, the people should be seduced from him, and return to 
+David’s line as the seed royal; and set up idolatry in his kingdom, and 
+with horrible impiety beguiled the people, ensnaring them to the 
+worship of idols with himself. Yet God did not altogether cease to 
+reprove by the prophets, not only that king, but also his successors and 
+imitators in his impiety, and the people too. For there the great and 
+illustrious prophets Elijah and Elisha his disciple arose, who also did 
+many wonderful works. Even there, when Elijah said, “O Lord, they have 
+slain Thy prophets, they have digged down Thine altars; and I am left 
+alone, and they seek my life,” it was answered that seven thousand men 
+were there who had not bowed the knee to Baal.152 
+
+
+23. Of the varying condition of both the Hebrew kingdoms, until the people of both were at 
+different times led into captivity, Judah being afterwards recalled into his kingdom, which 
+finally passed into the power of the Romans 
+
+
+So also in the kingdom of Judah pertaining to Jerusalem prophets 
+were not lacking even in the times of succeeding kings, just as it pleased 
+God to send them, either for the prediction of what was needful, or for 
+correction of sin and instruction in righteousness;!53 for there, too, 
+although far less than in Israel, kings arose who grievously offended God 
+by their impieties, and, along with their people, who were like them, 
+were smitten with moderate scourges. The no small merits of the pious 
+kings there are praised indeed. But we read that in Israel the kings were, 
+some more, others less, yet all wicked. Each part, therefore, as the divine 
+providence either ordered or permitted, was both lifted up by prosperity 
+and weighed down by adversity of various kinds; and it was afflicted not 
+only by foreign, but also by civil wars with each other, in order that by 
+certain existing causes the mercy or anger of God might be manifested; 
+until, by His growing indignation, that whole nation was by the 
+conquering Chaldeans not only overthrown in its abode, but also for the 
+most part transported to the lands of the Assyrians—first, that part of the 
+thirteen tribes called Israel, but afterwards Judah also, when Jerusalem 
+and that most noble temple was cast down—in which lands it rested 
+seventy years in captivity. Being after that time sent forth thence, they 
+
+
+rebuilt the overthrown temple. And although very many stayed in the 
+lands of the strangers, yet the kingdom no longer had two separate parts, 
+with different kings over each, but in Jerusalem there was one prince 
+over them; and at certain times, from every direction wherever they 
+were, and from whatever place they could, they all came to the temple 
+of God which was there. Yet not even then were they without foreign 
+enemies and conquerors; yea, Christ found them tributaries of the 
+Romans. 
+
+
+24. Of the prophets, who either were the last among the Jews, or whom the gospel history reports 
+about the time of Christ’s nativity 
+
+
+But in that whole time after they returned from Babylon, after 
+Malachi, Haggai, and Zechariah, who then prophesied, and Ezra, they 
+had no prophets down to the time of the Saviour’s advent except another 
+Zechariah, the father of John, and Elisabeth his wife, when the nativity 
+of Christ was already close at hand; and when He was already born, 
+Simeon the aged, and Anna a widow, and now very old; and, last of all, 
+John himself, who, being a young man, did not predict that Christ, now 
+a young man, was to come, but by prophetic knowledge pointed Him out 
+although unknown; for which reason the Lord Himself says, “The law 
+and the prophets were until John.”!54 But the prophesying of these five 
+is made known to us in the gospel, where the virgin mother of our Lord 
+herself is also found to have prophesied before John. But this prophecy 
+of theirs the wicked Jews do not receive; but those innumerable persons 
+received it who from them believed the gospel. For then truly Israel was 
+divided in two, by that division which was foretold by Samuel the 
+prophet to king Saul as immutable. But even the reprobate Jews hold 
+Malachi, Haggai, Zechariah, and Ezra as the last received into canonical 
+authority. For there are also writings of these, as of others, who being 
+but a very few in the great multitude of prophets, have written those 
+books which have obtained canonical authority, of whose predictions it 
+seems good to me to put in this work some which pertain to Christ and 
+His Church; and this, by the Lord’s help, shall be done more 
+conveniently in the following book, that we may not further burden this 
+one, which is already too long. 
+
+
+1 “Has pointed.” 
+
+
+2 Gen. xii. 1, 2. 
+
+
+3 Gen. xii. 3. 
+
+4 Gal. iv. 22-31. 
+
+° Heb. viii. 8-10. 
+
+© 1 Sam. ii. 1-10. 
+
+7 Ps. xlviii. 2. 
+
+8 2 Tim. ii. 9.; Eph. vi. 20. 
+
+9 Luke ii. 25-30. 
+
+10 Rom. iii. 26. 
+
+11 Gal. vi. 3. 
+
+12 Rom. x. 3. 
+
+13 Ps. xciv. 11; 1 Cor. iii. 20. 
+14 Ps, vi. 2. 
+
+15 Rom. iii. 2. 
+
+16 Rev. i. 4. 
+
+17 Prov. ix. 1. 
+
+18 “By whom we see her made fruitful.” 
+19 Col. iii. 1-3. 
+
+20 Rom. viii. 32. 
+
+21 Ps, xvi. 10; Acts ii. 27, 31. 
+22 2 Cor. viii. 9. 
+
+23 Jas. iv. 6; 1 Pet. v. 5. 
+
+24 “For the poor man is the same as the beggar.” 
+25 Phil. iii. 7, 8. 
+
+26 Matt. xix. 27, 28. 
+
+27 1 Cor. iv. 7 
+
+28 ] John iv. 7. 
+
+29 2 Cor. v. 10. 
+
+30 Ps, Ixxiv. 12. 
+
+31 Acts x. 42. 
+
+32 Eph. iv. 9, 10. 
+
+
+33 Matt. xxiv. 13. 
+
+
+34 1 Cor. xii. 12. 
+
+35 1 Sam. ii. 27-36. 
+36 Ps, xvii. 8. 
+
+37 Isa. x. 21. 
+
+38 Rom. xi. 5. 
+
+39 Isa. xxviii. 22; Rom. ix. 28. 
+40 Ps, xii. 6. 
+
+41 Ps, Ixxxiv. 10. 
+42] Tim. ii. 5. 
+
+43 1 Pet. ii. 9. 
+
+44 1 Cor. x. 17. 
+
+45 Rom. xii. 1. 
+
+46 John vi. 51. 
+
+47 Heb. vii. 11, 27. 
+48 Matt. xxiv. 15. 
+
+49 1 Sam. xxiv. 5, 6. 
+50 1 Sam. xiii. 13, 14. 
+51 Heb. ix. 15. 
+
+52 Luke xix. 10. 
+
+53 Eph. i. 4. 
+
+54 1 Sam. xv. 23. 
+
+55 1 Sam. xv. 26-29. 
+56 Rom. i. 3. 
+
+57 1 Tim. ii. 5. 
+
+58 Ps, cx. 1. 
+
+59 Gen. xxi. 10. 
+
+60 Gal. iv. 25. 
+
+61 2 Cor. iii. 15, 16. 
+62 1 Sam. vii. 9-12. 
+63 2 Sam. vii. 8-16. 
+
+
+64 Rom. i. 3. 
+
+
+65 Ps. lxxii. 8. 
+
+66 1 Cor. iii. 17. 
+
+67 Ps, Ixxxix. 3, 4. 
+
+68 Ps, Ixxxix. 19-29. 
+
+69 Phil. ii. 7. 
+
+70 Matt. i. 1, 18 Luke i. 27. 
+71 2 Sam. vii. 14, 15. 
+72 Ps. ev. 15. 
+
+73 Ps. Ixxxix. 30-33. 
+
+74 Acts. ix. 4. 
+
+75 Ps, Ixxxix. 34, 35. 
+
+76 Ps, Ixxxix. 36, 37. 
+
+77 Ps, Ixxxix. 38. 
+
+78 Ps. Ixxxix. 38. 
+
+79 Ps. Ixxxix. 39-45. 
+
+80 Ps, Ixxxix. 46. 
+
+81 Ps, xiii. 1. 
+
+82 Ps, Ixxxix. 46, 47. 
+
+83 Ps. Ixxxix. 47. 
+
+84 Ps. cxliv. 4. 
+
+85 Ps. Ixxxix. 48. 
+
+86 Rom. vi. 9. 
+
+87 John x. 18. 
+
+88 Ps. Ixxxix. 49-51. 
+
+89 Rom. iii. 28, 29. 
+
+90 Acts xiii. 46. 
+
+91 Matt. vii. 7, 8. 
+
+92 Another reading, “consummation.” 
+93 See above, chap. viii. 
+94 2 Sam. vii. 19. 
+
+
+95 2 Sam. vii. 8. 
+
+
+96 2 Sam. vii. 27. 
+
+97 Ps. exxvii. 1. 
+
+98 2 Sam. vii. 10, 11. 
+
+99 2 Sam. vii. 10, 11. 
+
+100 Judg. iii. 30. 
+
+101 Israel = “a prince of God;” Peniel = “the face of God” (Gen. xxxii. 28-30). 
+102 Ps, cx. 1, quoted in Matt. xxii. 44. 
+
+103 1 Kings xiii. 2; fulfilled 2 Kings xxiii. 15-17. 
+
+104 Ps, xlv. 1-9. 
+
+105 Ps, xlv. 9-17. 
+
+106 Ps, xlv. 7. 
+
+107 Ps, xlviii. 2. 
+
+108 Ps, xviii. 43. 
+
+109 Rom. x. 5. 
+
+110 Pg, Ixxxvii. 5. 
+
+111 Ps, xlv. 16. 
+
+112 Ps, cx. 1. 
+113 Ps, cx. 2. 
+114 Ps, cx. 4. 
+115 Ps, cx. 4. 
+116 Ps. xxii. 16, 17. 
+
+117 Ps. xxii. 18, 19. 
+
+118 Ps, iii. 5. 
+
+119 Ps, xli. 5-8. 
+
+120 Ps, xli. 9. 
+
+121 Ps, xli. 10. 
+
+122 2 Tim. iv. 1; 2 Pet. iv. 5. 
+123 John vi. 70. 
+
+124 1 Cor. xii. 12. 
+
+125 Matt. xxv. 35. 
+
+
+126 Matt. xxv. 40. 
+
+
+127 Acts. i. 17. 
+
+128 Ps, xvi. 9, 10. 
+
+129 Ps, lxviii. 20. 
+
+130 Matt. i. 21. 
+
+131 Ps. lxix. 21; Matt. xxvii. 34, 48. 
+132 Ps, lxix. 22, 23. 
+
+133 Ps. xxxii. 1. 
+
+134 Sallust, Bel. Cat. c. xi. 
+
+135 Wisd. ii. 12-21. 
+
+136 Ecclus. xxxvi. 1-5. 
+
+137 Prov. i. 11-13. 
+
+138 Matt. xxi. 38. 
+
+139 Ch. 4. 
+
+140 Prov. ix. 1-5 (ver. 1 is quoted above in ch. 4). 
+141 1 Cor. i. 27. 
+
+142 Prov. ix. 6. 
+
+143 Eccles. ii. 24, iii. 13, v. 18, viii. 15. 
+144 Ps. xl. 6. 
+
+145 Eccles. vii. 2. 
+
+146 Eccles. vii. 4. 
+
+147 Eccles. x. 16, 17. 
+
+148 Rom. v. 5. 
+
+149 Ps, lxix. 6. 
+
+150 Cant. i. 4 
+
+151 Cant. vii. 6. 
+
+152 1 Kings xix. 10, 14, 15. 
+
+153 2 Tim. iii. 16. 
+
+
+154 Matt. xi. 13. 
+
+
+BOOK EIGHTEENTH 
+
+
+ARGUMENT 
+
+
+AUGUSTINE TRACES THE PARALLEL COURSES OF THE EARTHLY AND HEAVENLY CITIES FROM THE TIME 
+OF ABRAHAM TO THE END OF THE WORLD; AND ALLUDES TO THE ORACLES REGARDING CHRIST, BOTH 
+THOSE UTTERED BY THE SIBYLS, AND THOSE OF THE SACRED PROPHETS WHO WROTE AFTER THE 
+
+
+FOUNDATION OF ROME, HOSEA, AMOS, ISAIAH, MICAH, AND THEIR SUCCESSORS. 
+
+
+1. Of those things down to the times of the Saviour which have been discussed in the seventeen 
+books 
+
+
+eo to write of the rise, progress, and appointed end of the two 
+cities, one of which is God’s, the other this world’s, in which, so far as 
+mankind is concerned, the former is now a stranger. But first of all I 
+undertook, so far as His grace should enable me, to refute the enemies of 
+the city of God, who prefer their gods to Christ its founder, and fiercely 
+hate Christians with the most deadly malice. And this I have done in the 
+first ten books. Then, as regards my threefold promise which I have just 
+mentioned, I have treated distinctly, in the four books which follow the 
+tenth, of the rise of both cities. After that, I have proceeded from the 
+first man down to the flood in one book, which is the fifteenth of this 
+work; and from that again down to Abraham our work has followed both 
+in chronological order. From the patriarch Abraham down to the time of 
+the Israelite kings, at which we close our sixteenth book, and thence 
+down to the advent of Christ Himself in the flesh, to which period the 
+seventeenth book reaches, the city of God appears from my way of 
+writing to have run its course alone; whereas it did not run its course 
+alone in this age, for both cities, in their course amid mankind, certainly 
+experienced chequered times together just as from the beginning. But I 
+did this in order that, first of all, from the time when the promises of 
+God began to be more clear, down to the virgin birth of Him in whom 
+those things promised from the first were to be fulfilled, the course of 
+that city which is God’s might be made more distinctly apparent, 
+
+
+without interpolation of foreign matter from the history of the other city, 
+although down to the revelation of the new covenant it ran its course, 
+not in light, but in shadow. Now, therefore, I think fit to do what I 
+passed by, and show, so far as seems necessary, how that other city ran 
+its course from the times of Abraham, so that attentive readers may 
+compare the two. 
+
+
+2. Of the kings and times of the earthly city which were synchronous with the times of the saints, 
+
+
+reckoning from the rise of Abraham 
+
+
+The society of mortals spread abroad through the earth everywhere, 
+and in the most diverse places, although bound together by a certain 
+fellowship of our common nature, is yet for the most part divided 
+against itself, and the strongest oppress the others, because all follow 
+after their own interests and lusts, while what is longed for either 
+suffices for none, or not for all, because it is not the very thing. For the 
+vanquished succumb to the victorious, preferring any sort of peace and 
+safety to freedom itself; so that they who chose to die rather than be 
+slaves have been greatly wondered at. For in almost all nations the very 
+voice of nature somehow proclaims, that those who happen to be 
+conquered should choose rather to be subject to their conquerors than to 
+be killed by all kinds of warlike destruction. This does not take place 
+without the providence of God, in whose power it lies that any one 
+either subdues or is subdued in war; that some are endowed with 
+kingdoms, others made subject to kings. Now, among the very many 
+kingdoms of the earth into which, by earthly interest or lust, society is 
+divided (which we call by the general name of the city of this world), we 
+see that two, settled and kept distinct from each other both in time and 
+place, have grown far more famous than the rest, first that of the 
+Assyrians, then that of the Romans. First came the one, then the other. 
+The former arose in the east, and, immediately on its close, the latter in 
+the west. I may speak of other kingdoms and other kings as appendages 
+of these. 
+
+Ninus, then, who succeeded his father Belus, the first king of Assyria, 
+was already the second king of that kingdom when Abraham was born in 
+the land of the Chaldees. There was also at that time a very small 
+kingdom of Sicyon, with which, as from an ancient date, that most 
+universally learned man Marcus Varro begins, in writing of the Roman 
+
+
+race. For from these kings of Sicyon he passes to the Athenians, from 
+them to the Latins, and from these to the Romans. Yet very little is 
+related about these kingdoms, before the foundation of Rome, in 
+comparison with that of Assyria. For although even Sallust, the Roman 
+historian, admits that the Athenians were very famous in Greece, yet he 
+thinks they were greater in fame than in fact. For in speaking of them he 
+says, “The deeds of the Athenians, as I think, were very great and 
+magnificent, but yet somewhat less than reported by fame. But because 
+writers of great genius arose among them, the deeds of the Athenians 
+were celebrated throughout the world as very great. Thus the virtue of 
+those who did them was held to be as great as men of transcendent 
+genius could represent it to be by the power of laudatory words.”! This 
+city also derived no small glory from literature and philosophy, the 
+study of which chiefly flourished there. But as regards empire, none in 
+the earliest times was greater than the Assyrian, or so widely extended. 
+For when Ninus the son of Belus was king, he is reported to have 
+subdued the whole of Asia, even to the boundaries of Libya, which as to 
+number is called the third part, but as to size is found to be the half of 
+the whole world. The Indians in the eastern regions were the only people 
+over whom he did not reign; but after his death Semiramis his wife made 
+war on them. Thus it came to pass that all the people and kings in those 
+countries were subject to the kingdom and authority of the Assyrians, 
+and did whatever they were commanded. Now Abraham was born in 
+that kingdom among the Chaldees, in the time of Ninus. But since 
+Grecian affairs are much better known to us than Assyrian, and those 
+who have diligently investigated the antiquity of the Roman nation’s 
+origin have followed the order of time through the Greeks to the Latins, 
+and from them to the Romans, who themselves are Latins, we ought on 
+this account, where it is needful, to mention the Assyrian kings, that it 
+may appear how Babylon, like a first Rome, ran its course along with the 
+city of God, which is a stranger in this world. But the things proper for 
+insertion in this work in comparing the two cities, that is, the earthly 
+and heavenly, ought to be taken mostly from the Greek and Latin 
+kingdoms, where Rome herself is like a second Babylon. 
+
+At Abraham’s birth, then, the second kings of Assyria and Sicyon 
+respectively were Ninus and Europs, the first having been Belus and 
+AEgialeus. But when God promised Abraham, on his departure from 
+
+
+Babylonia, that he should become a great nation, and that in his seed all 
+nations of the earth should be blessed, the Assyrians had their seventh 
+king, the Sicyons their fifth; for the son of Ninus reigned among them 
+after his mother Semiramis, who is said to have been put to death by 
+him for attempting to defile him by incestuously lying with him. Some 
+think that she founded Babylon, and indeed she may have founded it 
+anew. But we have told, in the sixteenth book, when or by whom it was 
+founded. Now the son of Ninus and Semiramis, who succeeded his 
+mother in the kingdom, is also called Ninus by some, but by others 
+Ninias, a patronymic word. Telexion then held the kingdom of the 
+Sicyons. In his reign times were quiet and joyful to such a degree, that 
+after his death they worshipped him as a god by offering sacrifices and 
+by celebrating games, which are said to have been first instituted on this 
+occasion. 
+
+
+3. What kings reigned in Assyria and Sicyon when, according to the promise, Isaac was born to 
+Abraham in his hundredth year, and when the twins Esau and Jacob were born of Rebecca to 
+
+
+Isaac in his sixtieth year 
+
+
+In his times also, by the promise of God, Isaac, the son of Abraham, 
+was born to his father when he was a hundred years old, of Sarah his 
+wife, who, being barren and old, had already lost hope of issue. Aralius 
+was then the fifth king of the Assyrians. To Isaac himself, in his sixtieth 
+year, were born twin-sons, Esau and Jacob, whom Rebecca his wife bore 
+to him, their grandfather Abraham, who died on completing a hundred 
+and seventy years, being still alive, and reckoning his hundred and 
+sixtieth year.2 At that time there reigned as the seventh kings—among 
+the Assyrians, that more ancient Xerxes, who was also called Balzus; 
+and among the Sicyons, Thuriachus, or, as some write his name, 
+Thurimachus. The kingdom of Argos, in which Inachus reigned first, 
+arose in the time of Abraham’s grandchildren. And I must not omit what 
+Varro relates, that the Sicyons were also wont to sacrifice at the tomb of 
+their seventh king Thuriachus. In the reign of Armamitres in Assyria and 
+Leucippus in Sicyon as the eighth kings, and of Inachus as the first in 
+Argos, God spoke to Isaac, and promised the same two things to him as 
+to his father—namely, the land of Canaan to his seed, and the blessing of 
+all nations in his seed. These same things were promised to his son, 
+Abraham’s grandson, who was at first called Jacob, afterwards Israel, 
+
+
+when Belocus was the ninth king of Assyria, and Phoroneus, the son of 
+Inachus, reigned as the second king of Argos, Leucippus still continuing 
+king of Sicyon. In those times, under the Argive king Phoroneus, Greece 
+was made more famous by the institution of certain laws and judges. On 
+the death of Phoroneus, his younger brother Phegous built a temple at 
+his tomb, in which he was worshipped as God, and oxen were sacrificed 
+to him. I believe they thought him worthy of so great honour, because in 
+his part of the kingdom (for their father had divided his territories 
+between them, in which they reigned during his life) he had founded 
+chapels for the worship of the gods, and had taught them to measure 
+time by months and years, and to that extent to keep count and 
+reckoning of events. Men still uncultivated, admiring him for these 
+novelties, either fancied he was, or resolved that he should be made, a 
+god after his death. Io also is said to have been the daughter of Inachus, 
+who was afterwards called Isis, when she was worshipped in Egypt as a 
+great goddess; although others write that she came as a queen out of 
+Ethiopia, and because she ruled extensively and justly, and instituted for 
+her subjects letters and many useful things, such divine honour was 
+given her there after she died, that if any one said she had been human, 
+he was charged with a capital crime. 
+
+
+4. Of the times of Jacob and his son Joseph 
+
+
+In the reign of Balezus, the ninth king of Assyria, and Mesappus, the 
+eighth of Sicyon, who is said by some to have been also called Cephisos 
+(if indeed the same man had both names, and those who put the other 
+name in their writings have not rather confounded him with another 
+man), while Apis was third king of Argos, Isaac died, a hundred and 
+eighty years old, and left his twin-sons a hundred and twenty years old. 
+Jacob, the younger of these, belonged to the city of God about which we 
+write (the elder being wholly rejected), and had twelve sons, one of 
+whom, called Joseph, was sold by his brothers to merchants going down 
+to Egypt, while his grandfather Isaac was still alive. But when he was 
+thirty years of age, Joseph stood before Pharaoh, being exalted out of 
+the humiliation he endured, because, in divinely interpreting the king’s 
+dreams, he foretold that there would be seven years of plenty, the very 
+rich abundance of which would be consumed by seven other years of 
+
+
+famine that should follow. On this account the king made him ruler over 
+Egypt, liberating him from prison, into which he had been thrown for 
+keeping his chastity intact; for he bravely preserved it from his mistress, 
+who wickedly loved him, and told lies to his weakly credulous master, 
+and did not consent to commit adultery with her, but fled from her, 
+leaving his garment in her hands when she laid hold of him. In the 
+second of the seven years of famine Jacob came down into Egypt to his 
+son with all he had, being a hundred and thirty years old, as he himself 
+said in answer to the king’s question. Joseph was then thirty-nine, if we 
+add seven years of plenty and two of famine to the thirty he reckoned 
+when honoured by the king. 
+
+
+5. Of Apis king of Argos, whom the Egyptians called Serapis, and worshipped with divine 
+honours 
+
+
+In these times Apis king of Argos crossed over into Egypt in ships, and, 
+on dying there, was made Serapis, the chief god of all the Egyptians. 
+Now Varro gives this very ready reason why, after his death, he was 
+called, not Apis, but Serapis. The ark in which he was placed when dead, 
+which every one now calls a sarcophagus, was then called in Greek 7%, 
+and they began to worship him when buried in it before his temple was 
+built; and from Soros and Apis he was called first [Sorosapis, or] Sorapis, 
+and then Serapis, by changing a letter, as easily happens. It was decreed 
+regarding him also, that whoever should say he had been a man should 
+be capitally punished. And since in every temple where Isis and Serapis 
+were worshipped there was also an image which, with finger pressed on 
+the lips, seemed to warn men to keep silence, Varro thinks this signifies 
+that it should be kept secret that they had been human. But that bull 
+which, with wonderful folly, deluded Egypt nourished with abundant 
+delicacies in honour of him, was not called Serapis, but Apis, because 
+they worshipped him alive without a sarcophagus. On the death of that 
+bull, when they sought and found a calf of the same colour—that is, 
+similarly marked with certain white spots—they believed it was 
+something miraculous, and divinely provided for them. Yet it was no 
+great thing for the demons, in order to deceive them, to show to a cow 
+when she was conceiving and pregnant the image of such a bull, which 
+she alone could see, and by it attract the breeding passion of the mother, 
+so that it might appear in a bodily shape in her young, just as Jacob so 
+
+
+managed with the spotted rods that the sheep and goats were born 
+spotted. For what men can do with real colours and substances, the 
+demons can very easily do by showing unreal forms to breeding animals. 
+
+
+6. Who were kings of Argos, and of Assyria, when Jacob died in Egypt 
+
+
+Apis, then, who died in Egypt, was not the king of Egypt, but of Argos. 
+He was succeeded by his son Argus, from whose name the land was 
+called Argos and the people Argives, for under the earlier kings neither 
+the place nor the nation as yet had this name. While he then reigned 
+over Argos, and Eratus over Sicyon, and Balæus still remained king of 
+Assyria, Jacob died in Egypt a hundred and forty-seven years old, after 
+he had, when dying, blessed his sons and his grandsons by Joseph, and 
+prophesied most plainly of Christ, saying in the blessing of Judah, “A 
+prince shall not fail out of Judah, nor a leader from his thighs, until 
+those things come which are laid up for him; and He is the expectation 
+of the nations.”3 In the reign of Argus Greece began to use fruits, and to 
+have crops of corn in cultivated fields, the seed having been brought 
+from other countries. Argus also began to be accounted a god after his 
+death, and was honoured with a temple and sacrifices. This honour was 
+conferred in his reign, before being given to him, on a private individual 
+for being the first to yoke oxen in the plough. This was one Homogyrus, 
+who was struck by lightning. 
+
+
+7. Who were kings when Joseph died in Egypt 
+
+
+In the reign of Mamitus, the twelfth king of Assyria, and Plemnæus, 
+the eleventh of Sicyon, while Argus still reigned over the Argives, Joseph 
+died in Egypt a hundred and ten years old. After his death, the people of 
+God, increasing wonderfully, remained in Egypt a hundred and forty-five 
+years, in tranquillity at first, until those who knew Joseph were dead. 
+Afterward, through envy of their increase, and the suspicion that they 
+would at length gain their freedom, they were oppressed with 
+persecutions and the labours of intolerable servitude, amid which, 
+however, they still grew, being multiplied with God-given fertility. 
+During this period the same kingdoms continued in Assyria and Greece. 
+
+
+8. Who were kings when Moses was born, and what gods began to be worshipped then 
+
+
+When Saphrus reigned as the fourteenth king of Assyria, and 
+Orthopolis as the twelfth of Sicyon, and Criasus as the fifth of Argos, 
+Moses was born in Egypt, by whom the people of God were liberated 
+from the Egyptian slavery, in which they behoved to be thus tried that 
+they might desire the help of their Creator. Some have thought that 
+Prometheus lived during the reign of the kings now named. He is 
+reported to have formed men out of clay, because he was esteemed the 
+best teacher of wisdom; yet it does not appear what wise men there were 
+in his days. His brother Atlas is said to have been a great astrologer; and 
+this gave occasion for the fable that he held up the sky, although the 
+vulgar opinion about his holding up the sky appears rather to have been 
+suggested by a high mountain named after him. Indeed, from those times 
+many other fabulous things began to be invented in Greece; yet, down to 
+Cecrops king of Athens, in whose reign that city received its name, and 
+in whose reign God brought His people out of Egypt by Moses, only a 
+few dead heroes are reported to have been deified according to the vain 
+superstition of the Greeks. Among these were Melantomice, the wife of 
+king Criasus, and Phorbas their son, who succeeded his father as sixth 
+king of the Argives, and Iasus, son of Triopas, their seventh king, and 
+their ninth king, Sthenelas, or Stheneleus, or Sthenelus—for his name is 
+given differently by different authors. In those times also, Mercury, the 
+grandson of Atlas by his daughter Maia, is said to have lived, according 
+to the common report in books. He was famous for his skill in many arts, 
+and taught them to men, for which they resolved to make him, and even 
+believed that he deserved to be, a god after death. Hercules is said to 
+have been later, yet belonging to the same period; although some, whom 
+I think mistaken, assign him an earlier date than Mercury. But at 
+whatever time they were born, it is agreed among grave historians, who 
+have committed these ancient things to writing, that both were men, and 
+that they merited divine honours from mortals because they conferred 
+on them many benefits to make this life more pleasant to them. Minerva 
+was far more ancient than these; for she is reported to have appeared in 
+virgin age in the times of Ogyges at the lake called Triton, from which 
+she is also styled Tritonia, the inventress truly of many works, and the 
+more readily believed to be a goddess because her origin was so little 
+known. For what is sung about her having sprung from the head of 
+Jupiter belongs to the region of poetry and fable, and not to that of 
+
+
+history and real fact. And historical writers are not agreed when Ogyges 
+flourished, in whose time also a great flood occurred—not that greatest 
+one from which no man escaped except those who could get into the ark, 
+for neither Greek nor Latin history knew of it, yet a greater flood than 
+that which happened afterward in Deucalion’s time. For Varro begins the 
+book I have already mentioned at this date, and does not propose to 
+himself, as the starting-point from which he may arrive at Roman affairs, 
+anything more ancient than the flood of Ogyges, that is, which happened 
+in the time of Ogyges Now our writers of chronicles—first Eusebius, and 
+afterwards Jerome, who entirely follow some earlier historians in this 
+opinion—relate that the flood of Ogyges happened more than three 
+hundred years after, during the reign of Phoroneus, the second king of 
+Argos. But whenever he may have lived, Minerva was already 
+worshipped as a goddess when Cecrops reigned in Athens, in whose 
+reign the city itself is reported to have been rebuilt or founded. 
+
+
+9. When the city of Athens was founded, and what reason Varro assigns for its name 
+
+
+Athens certainly derived its name from Minerva, who in Greek is 
+called ’A®nyn, and Varro points out the following reason why it was so 
+called. When an olive-tree suddenly appeared there, and water burst 
+forth in another place, these prodigies moved the king to send to the 
+Delphic Apollo to inquire what they meant and what he should do. He 
+answered that the olive signified Minerva, the water Neptune, and that 
+the citizens had it in their power to name their city as they chose, after 
+either of these two gods whose signs these were. On receiving this 
+oracle, Cecrops convoked all the citizens of either sex to give their vote, 
+for it was then the custom in those parts for the women also to take part 
+in public deliberations. When the multitude was consulted, the men gave 
+their votes for Neptune, the women for Minerva; and as the women had 
+a majority of one, Minerva conquered. Then Neptune, being enraged, 
+laid waste the lands of the Athenians, by casting up the waves of the sea; 
+for the demons have no difficulty in scattering any waters more widely. 
+The same authority said, that to appease his wrath the women should be 
+visited by the Athenians with the threefold punishment—that they 
+should no longer have any vote; that none of their children should be 
+named after their mothers; and that no one should call them Athenians. 
+Thus that city, the mother and nurse of liberal doctrines, and of so many 
+
+
+and so great philosophers, than whom Greece had nothing more famous 
+and noble, by the mockery of demons about the strife of their gods, a 
+male and female, and from the victory of the female one through the 
+women, received the name of Athens; and, on being damaged by the 
+vanquished god, was compelled to punish the very victory of the 
+victress, fearing the waters of Neptune more than the arms of Minerva. 
+For in the women who were thus punished, Minerva, who had 
+conquered, was conquered too, and could not even help her voters so far 
+that, although the right of voting was henceforth lost, and the mothers 
+could not give their names to the children, they might at least be 
+allowed to be called Athenians, and to merit the name of that goddess 
+whom they had made victorious over a male god by giving her their 
+votes. What and how much could be said about this, if we had not to 
+hasten to other things in our discourse, is obvious. 
+
+
+10. What Varro reports about the term Areopagus, and about Deucalion’s flood 
+
+
+Marcus Varro, however, is not willing to credit lying fables against the 
+gods, lest he should find something dishonouring to their majesty; and 
+therefore he will not admit that the Areopagus, the place where the 
+Apostle Paul disputed with the Athenians, got this name because Mars, 
+who in Greek is called Aes, when he was charged with the crime of 
+homicide, and was judged by twelve gods in that field, was acquitted by 
+the sentence of six; because it was the custom, when the votes were 
+equal, to acquit rather than condemn. Against this opinion, which is 
+much most widely published, he tries, from the notices of obscure books, 
+to support another reason for this name, lest the Athenians should be 
+thought to have called it Areopagus from the words “Mars” and “field,” 
+as if it were the field of Mars, to the dishonour of the gods, forsooth, 
+from whom he thinks lawsuits and judgments far removed. And he 
+asserts that this which is said about Mars is not less false than what is 
+said about the three goddesses, to wit, Juno, Minerva, and Venus, whose 
+contest for the palm of beauty, before Paris as judge, in order to obtain 
+the golden apple, is not only related, but is celebrated in songs and 
+dances amid the applause of the theatres, in plays meant to please the 
+gods who take pleasure in these crimes of their own, whether real or 
+fabled. Varro does not believe these things, because they are 
+incompatible with the nature of the gods and of morality; and yet, in 
+
+
+giving not a fabulous but a historic reason for the name of Athens, he 
+inserts in his books the strife between Neptune and Minerva as to whose 
+name should be given to that city, which was so great that, when they 
+contended by the display of prodigies, even Apollo dared not judge 
+between them when consulted; but, in order to end the strife of the gods, 
+just as Jupiter sent the three goddesses we have named to Paris, so he 
+sent them to men, when Minerva won by the vote, and yet was defeated 
+by the punishment of her own voters, for she was unable to confer the 
+title of Athenians on the women who were her friends, although she 
+could impose it on the men who were her opponents. In these times, 
+when Cranaos reigned at Athens as the successor of Cecrops, as Varro 
+writes, but, according to our Eusebius and Jerome, while Cecrops 
+himself still remained, the flood occurred which is called Deucalion’s, 
+because it occurred chiefly in those parts of the earth in which he 
+reigned. But this flood did not at all reach Egypt or its vicinity. 
+
+
+11. When Moses led the people out of Egypt; and who were kings when his successor Joshua the 
+son of Nun died 
+
+
+Moses led the people out of Egypt in the last time of Cecrops king of 
+Athens, when Ascatades reigned in Assyria, Marathus in Sicyon, Triopas 
+in Argos; and having led forth the people, he gave them at Mount Sinai 
+the law he received from God, which is called the Old Testament, 
+because it has earthly promises, and because, through Jesus Christ, there 
+was to be a New Testament, in which the kingdom of heaven should be 
+promised. For the same order behoved to be observed in this as is 
+observed in each man who prospers in God, according to the saying of 
+the apostle, “That is not first which is spiritual, but that which is 
+natural,” since, as he says, and that truly, “The first man of the earth, is 
+earthly; the second man, from heaven, is heavenly.”5 Now Moses ruled 
+the people for forty years in the wilderness, and died a hundred and 
+twenty years old, after he had prophesied of Christ by the types of carnal 
+observances in the tabernacle, priesthood, and sacrifices, and many 
+other mystic ordinances. Joshua the son of Nun succeeded Moses, and 
+settled in the land of promise the people he had brought in, having by 
+divine authority conquered the people by whom it was formerly 
+possessed. He also died, after ruling the people twenty-seven years after 
+the death of Moses, when Amyntas reigned in Assyria as the eighteenth 
+
+
+king, Coracos as the sixteenth in Sicyon, Danaos as the tenth in Argos, 
+Ericthonius as the fourth in Athens. 
+
+
+12. Of the rituals of false gods instituted by the kings of Greece in the period from Israel’s 
+exodus from Egypt down to the death of Joshua the son of Nun 
+
+
+During this period, that is, from Israel’s exodus from Egypt down to 
+the death of Joshua the son of Nun, through whom that people received 
+the land of promise, rituals were instituted to the false gods by the kings 
+of Greece, which, by stated celebration, recalled the memory of the 
+flood, and of men’s deliverance from it, and of that troublous life they 
+then led in migrating to and fro between the heights and the plains. For 
+even the Luperci,© when they ascend and descend the sacred path, are 
+said to represent the men who sought the mountain summits because of 
+the inundation of water, and returned to the lowlands on its subsidence. 
+In those times, Dionysus, who was also called Father Liber, and was 
+esteemed a god after death, is said to have shown the vine to his host in 
+Attica. Then the musical games were instituted for the Delphic Apollo, to 
+appease his anger, through which they thought the regions of Greece 
+were afflicted with barrenness, because they had not defended his 
+temple which Danaos burnt when he invaded those lands; for they were 
+warned by his oracle to institute these games. But king Ericthonius first 
+instituted games to him in Attica, and not to him only, but also to 
+Minerva, in which games the olive was given as the prize to the victors, 
+because they relate that Minerva was the discoverer of that fruit, as 
+Liber was of the grape. In those years Europa is alleged to have been 
+carried off by Xanthus king of Crete (to whom we find some give 
+another name), and to have borne him Rhadamanthus, Sarpedon, and 
+Minos, who are more commonly reported to have been the sons of 
+Jupiter by the same woman. Now those who worship such gods regard 
+what we have said about Xanthus king of Crete as true history; but this 
+about Jupiter, which the poets sing, the theatres applaud, and the people 
+celebrate, as empty fable got up as a reason for games to appease the 
+deities, even with the false ascription of crimes to them. In those times 
+Hercules was held in honour in Tyre, but that was not the same as he 
+whom we spoke of above. In the more secret history there are said to 
+have been several who were called Father Liber and Hercules. This 
+Hercules, whose great deeds are reckoned as twelve (not including the 
+
+
+slaughter of Antzeus the African, because that affair pertains to another 
+Hercules), is declared in their books to have burned himself on Mount 
+QEta, because he was not able, by that strength with which he had 
+subdued monsters, to endure the disease under which he languished. At 
+that time the king, or rather tyrant Busiris, who is alleged to have been 
+the son of Neptune by Libya the daughter of Epaphus, is said to have 
+offered up his guests in sacrifice to the gods. Now it must not be 
+believed that Neptune committed this adultery, lest the gods should be 
+criminated; yet such things must be ascribed to them by the poets and in 
+the theatres, that they may be pleased with them. Vulcan and Minerva 
+are said to have been the parents of Ericthonius king of Athens, in whose 
+last years Joshua the son of Nun is found to have died. But since they 
+will have it that Minerva is a virgin, they say that Vulcan, being 
+disturbed in the struggle between them, poured out his seed into the 
+earth, and on that account the man born of it received that name; for in 
+the Greek language ‘'¢ is “strife,” and x®4v “earth,” of which two words 
+Ericthonius is a compound. Yet it must be admitted that the more 
+learned disprove and disown such things concerning their gods, and 
+declare that this fabulous belief originated in the fact that in the temple 
+at Athens, which Vulcan and Minerva had in common, a boy who had 
+been exposed was found wrapped up in the coils of a dragon, which 
+signified that he would become great, and, as his parents were unknown, 
+he was called the son of Vulcan and Minerva, because they had the 
+temple in common. Yet that fable accounts for the origin of his name 
+better than this history. But what does it matter to us? Let the one in 
+books that speak the truth edify religious men, and the other in lying 
+fables delight impure demons. Yet these religious men worship them as 
+gods. Still, while they deny these things concerning them, they cannot 
+clear them of all crime, because at their demand they exhibit plays in 
+which the very things they wisely deny are basely done, and the gods 
+are appeased by these false and base things. Now, even although the 
+play celebrates an unreal crime of the gods, yet to delight in the 
+ascription of an unreal crime is a real one. 
+
+
+13. What fables were invented at the time when judges began to rule the Hebrews 
+
+
+After the death of Joshua the son of Nun, the people of God had 
+judges, in whose times they were alternately humbled by afflictions on 
+
+
+account of their sins, and consoled by prosperity through the compassion 
+of God. In those times were invented the fables about Triptolemus, who, 
+at the command of Ceres, borne by winged snakes, bestowed corn on the 
+needy lands in flying over them; about that beast the Minotaur, which 
+was shut up in the Labyrinth, from which men who entered its 
+inextricable mazes could find no exit; about the Centaurs, whose form 
+was a compound of horse and man; about Cerberus, the three-headed 
+dog of hell; about Phryxus and his sister Hellas, who fled, borne by a 
+winged ram; about the Gorgon, whose hair was composed of serpents, 
+and who turned those who looked on her into stone; about Bellerophon, 
+who was carried by a winged horse called Pegasus; about Amphion, who 
+charmed and attracted the stones by the sweetness of his harp; about the 
+artificer Deedalus and his son Icarus, who flew on wings they had fitted 
+on; about GEdipus, who compelled a certain four-footed monster with a 
+human face, called a sphynx, to destroy herself by casting herself 
+headlong, having solved the riddle she was wont to propose as insoluble; 
+about Antzus, who was the son of the earth, for which reason, on falling 
+on the earth, he was wont to rise up stronger, whom Hercules slew; and 
+perhaps there are others which I have forgotten. These fables, easily 
+found in histories containing a true account of events, bring us down to 
+the Trojan war, at which Marcus Varro has closed his second book about 
+the race of the Roman people; and they are so skilfully invented by men 
+as to involve no scandal to the gods. But whoever have pretended as to 
+Jupiter’s rape of Ganymede, a very beautiful boy, that king Tantalus 
+committed the crime, and the fable ascribed it to Jupiter; or as to his 
+impregnating Danae as a golden shower, that it means that the woman’s 
+virtue was corrupted by gold: whether these things were really done or 
+only fabled in those days, or were really done by others and falsely 
+ascribed to Jupiter, it is impossible to tell how much wickedness must 
+have been taken for granted in men’s hearts that they should be thought 
+able to listen to such lies with patience. And yet they willingly accepted 
+them, when, indeed, the more devotedly they worshipped Jupiter, they 
+ought the more severely to have punished those who durst say such 
+things of him. But they not only were not angry at those who invented 
+these things, but were afraid that the gods would be angry at them if 
+they did not act such fictions even in the theatres. In those times Latona 
+bore Apollo, not him of whose oracle we have spoken above as so often 
+
+
+consulted, but him who is said, along with Hercules, to have fed the 
+flocks of king Admetus; yet he was so believed to be a god, that very 
+many, indeed almost all, have believed him to be the selfsame Apollo. 
+Then also Father Liber made war in India, and led in his army many 
+women called Bacche, who were notable not so much for valour as for 
+fury. Some, indeed, write that this Liber was both conquered and bound; 
+and some that he was slain in Persia, even telling where he was buried; 
+and yet in his name, as that of a god, the unclean demons have instituted 
+the sacred, or rather the sacrilegious, Bacchanalia, of the outrageous 
+vileness of which the senate, after many years, became so much ashamed 
+as to prohibit them in the city of Rome. Men believed that in those times 
+Perseus and his wife Andromeda were raised into heaven after their 
+death, so that they were not ashamed or afraid to mark out their images 
+by constellations, and call them by their names. 
+
+
+14. Of the theological poets 
+
+
+During the same period of time arose the poets, who were also called 
+theologues, because they made hymns about the gods; yet about such 
+gods as, although great men, were yet but men, or the elements of this 
+world which the true God made, or creatures who were ordained as 
+principalities and powers according to the will of the Creator and their 
+own merit. And if, among much that was vain and false, they sang 
+anything of the one true God, yet, by worshipping Him along with others 
+who are not gods, and showing them the service that is due to Him 
+alone, they did not serve Him at all rightly; and even such poets as 
+Orpheus, Muszus, and Linus, were unable to abstain from dishonouring 
+their gods by fables. But yet these theologues worshipped the gods, and 
+were not worshipped as gods, although the city of the ungodly is wont, I 
+know not how, to set Orpheus over the sacred, or rather sacrilegious, 
+rites of hell. The wife of king Athamas, who was called Ino, and her son 
+Melicertes, perished by throwing themselves into the sea, and were, 
+according to popular belief, reckoned among the gods, like other men of 
+the same times, [among whom were] Castor and Pollux. The Greeks, 
+indeed, called her who was the mother of Melicertes, Leucothea, the 
+Latins Matuta; but both thought her a goddess. 
+
+
+15. Of the fall of the kingdom of Argos, when Picus the son of Saturn first received his father’s 
+
+
+kingdom of Laurentum 
+
+
+During those times the kingdom of Argos came to an end, being 
+transferred to Mycene, from which Agamemnon came, and the kingdom 
+of Laurentum arose, of which Picus son of Saturn was the first king, 
+when the woman Deborah judged the Hebrews; but it was the Spirit of 
+God who used her as His agent, for she was also a prophetess, although 
+her prophecy is so obscure that we could not demonstrate, without a 
+long discussion, that it was uttered concerning Christ. Now the Laurentes 
+already reigned in Italy, from whom the origin of the Roman people is 
+quite evidently derived after the Greeks; yet the kingdom of Assyria still 
+lasted, in which Lampares was the twenty-third king when Picus first 
+began to reign at Laurentum. The worshippers of such gods may see 
+what they are to think of Saturn the father of Picus, who deny that he 
+was a man; of whom some also have written that he himself reigned in 
+Italy before Picus his son; and Virgil in his wellknown book says— 
+
+
+“That race indocile, and through mountains high 
+Dispersed, he settled, and endowed with laws, 
+And named their country Latium, because 
+Latent within their coasts he dwelt secure. 
+Tradition says the golden ages pure 
+
+
+Began when he was king.”” 
+
+
+But they regard these as poetic fancies, and assert that the father of Picus 
+was Sterces rather, and relate that, being a most skilful husbandman, he 
+discovered that the fields could be fertilized by the dung of animals, 
+which is called stercus from his name. Some say he was called Stercutius. 
+But for whatever reason they chose to call him Saturn, it is yet certain 
+they made this Sterces or Stercutius a god for his merit in agriculture; 
+and they likewise received into the number of these gods Picus his son, 
+whom they affirm to have been a famous augur and warrior. Picus begot 
+Faunus, the second king of Laurentum; and he too is, or was, a god with 
+them. These divine honours they gave to dead men before the Trojan 
+wat. 
+
+
+16. Of Diomedes, who after the destruction of Troy was placed among the gods, while his 
+
+
+companions are said to have been changed into birds 
+
+
+Troy was overthrown, and its destruction was everywhere sung and 
+made well known even to boys; for it was signally published and spread 
+abroad, both by its own greatness and by writers of excellent style. And 
+this was done in the reign of Latinus the son of Faunus, from whom the 
+kingdom began to be called Latium instead of Laurentum. The victorious 
+Greeks, on leaving Troy destroyed and returning to their own countries, 
+were torn and crushed by divers and horrible calamities. Yet even from 
+among them they increased the number of their gods, for they made 
+Diomedes a god. They allege that his return home was prevented by a 
+divinely imposed punishment, and they prove, not by fabulous and 
+poetic falsehood, but by historic attestation, that his companions were 
+turned into birds. Yet they think that, even although he was made a god, 
+he could neither restore them to the human form by his own power, nor 
+yet obtain it from Jupiter his king, as a favour granted to a new 
+inhabitant of heaven. They also say that his temple is in the island of 
+Diomedza, not far from Mount Garganus in Apulia, and that these birds 
+fly round about this temple, and worship in it with such wonderful 
+obedience, that they fill their beaks with water and sprinkle it; and if 
+Greeks, or those born of the Greek race, come there, they are not only 
+still, but fly to meet them; but if they are foreigners, they fly up at their 
+heads, and wound them with such severe strokes as even to kill them. 
+For they are said to be well enough armed for these combats with their 
+hard and large beaks. 
+
+
+17. What Varro says of incredible transformations of men 
+
+
+In support of this story, Varro relates others no less incredible about 
+that most famous sorceress Circe, who changed the companions of 
+Ulysses into beasts, and about the Arcadians, who, by lot, swam across a 
+certain pool, and were turned into wolves there, and lived in the deserts 
+of that region with wild beasts like themselves. But if they never fed on 
+human flesh for nine years, they were restored to the human form on 
+swimming back again through the same pool. Finally, he expressly 
+names one Demenetus, who, on tasting a boy offered up in sacrifice by 
+the Arcadians to their god Lyczus according to their custom, was 
+changed into a wolf, and, being restored to his proper form in the tenth 
+year, trained himself as a pugilist, and was victorious at the Olympic 
+games. And the same historian thinks that the epithet Lyczus was 
+
+
+applied in Arcadia to Pan and Jupiter for no other reason than this 
+metamorphosis of men into wolves, because it was thought it could not 
+be wrought except by a divine power. For a wolf is called in Greek ħuxòg, 
+from which the name Lycezus appears to be formed. He says also that the 
+Roman Luperci were as it were sprung of the seed of these mysteries. 
+
+
+18. What we should believe concerning the transformations which seem to happen to men 
+
+
+through the art of demons 
+
+
+Perhaps our readers expect us to say something about this so great 
+delusion wrought by the demons; and what shall we say but that men 
+must fly out of the midst of Babylon?8 For this prophetic precept is to be 
+understood spiritually in this sense, that by going forward in the living 
+God, by the steps of faith, which worketh by love, we must flee out of 
+the city of this world, which is altogether a society of ungodly angels 
+and men. Yea, the greater we see the power of the demons to be in these 
+depths, so much the more tenaciously must we cleave to the Mediator 
+through whom we ascend from these lowest to the highest places. For if 
+we should say these things are not to be credited, there are not wanting 
+even now some who would affirm that they had either heard on the best 
+authority, or even themselves experienced, something of that kind. 
+Indeed we ourselves, when in Italy, heard such things about a certain 
+region there, where landladies of inns, imbued with these wicked arts, 
+were said to be in the habit of giving to such travellers as they chose, or 
+could manage, something in a piece of cheese by which they were 
+changed on the spot into beasts of burden, and carried whatever was 
+necessary, and were restored to their own form when the work was 
+done. Yet their mind did not become bestial, but remained rational and 
+human, just as Apuleius, in the books he wrote with the title of The 
+Golden Ass, has told, or feigned, that it happened to his own self that, on 
+taking poison, he became an ass, while retaining his human mind. 
+
+These things are either false, or so extraordinary as to be with good 
+reason disbelieved. But it is to be most firmly believed that Almighty 
+God can do whatever He pleases, whether in punishing or favouring, and 
+that the demons can accomplish nothing by their natural power (for 
+their created being is itself angelic, although made malign by their own 
+fault), except what He may permit, whose judgments are often hidden, 
+but never unrighteous. And indeed the demons, if they really do such 
+
+
+things as these on which this discussion turns, do not create real 
+substances, but only change the appearance of things created by the true 
+God so as to make them seem to be what they are not. I cannot therefore 
+believe that even the body, much less the mind, can really be changed 
+into bestial forms and lineaments by any reason, art, or power of the 
+demons; but the phantasm of a man, which even in thought or dreams 
+goes through innumerable changes, may, when the man’s senses are laid 
+asleep or overpowered, be presented to the senses of others in a 
+corporeal form, in some indescribable way unknown to me, so that 
+men’s bodies themselves may lie somewhere, alive, indeed, yet with 
+their senses locked up much more heavily and firmly than by sleep, 
+while that phantasm, as it were embodied in the shape of some animal, 
+may appear to the senses of others, and may even seem to the man 
+himself to be changed, just as he may seem to himself in sleep to be so 
+changed, and to bear burdens; and these burdens, if they are real 
+substances, are borne by the demons, that men may be deceived by 
+beholding at the same time the real substance of the burdens and the 
+simulated bodies of the beasts of burden. For a certain man called 
+Prestantius used to tell that it had happened to his father in his own 
+house, that he took that poison in a piece of cheese, and lay in his bed as 
+if sleeping, yet could by no means be aroused. But he said that after a 
+few days he as it were woke up and related the things he had suffered as 
+if they had been dreams, namely, that he had been made a sumpter 
+horse, and, along with other beasts of burden, had carried provisions for 
+the soldiers of what is called the Rhoetian Legion, because it was sent to 
+Rhoetia. And all this was found to have taken place just as he told, yet it 
+had seemed to him to be his own dream. And another man declared that 
+in his own house at night, before he slept, he saw a certain philosopher, 
+whom he knew very well, come to him and explain to him some things 
+in the Platonic philosophy which he had previously declined to explain 
+when asked. And when he had asked this philosopher why he did in his 
+house what he had refused to do at home, he said, “I did not do it, but I 
+dreamed I had done it.” And thus what the one saw when sleeping was 
+shown to the other when awake by a phantasmal image. 
+
+These things have not come to us from persons we might deem 
+unworthy of credit, but from informants we could not suppose to be 
+deceiving us. Therefore what men say and have committed to writing 
+
+
+about the Arcadians being often changed into wolves by the Arcadian 
+gods, or demons rather, and what is told in song about Circe 
+transforming the companions of Ulysses,? if they were really done, may, 
+in my opinion, have been done in the way I have said. As for Diomedes’ 
+birds, since their race is alleged to have been perpetuated by constant 
+propagation, I believe they were not made through the metamorphosis 
+of men, but were slyly substituted for them on their removal, just as the 
+hind was for Iphigenia, the daughter of king Agamemnon. For juggleries 
+of this kind could not be difficult for the demons if permitted by the 
+judgment of God; and since that virgin was afterward found alive, it is 
+easy to see that a hind had been slyly substituted for her. But because 
+the companions of Diomedes were of a sudden nowhere to be seen, and 
+afterward could nowhere be found, being destroyed by bad avenging 
+angels, they were believed to have been changed into those birds, which 
+were secretly brought there from other places where such birds were, 
+and suddenly substituted for them by fraud. But that they bring water in 
+their beaks and sprinkle it on the temple of Diomedes, and that they 
+fawn on men of Greek race and persecute aliens, is no wonderful thing 
+to be done by the inward influence of the demons, whose interest it is to 
+persuade men that Diomedes was made a god, and thus to beguile them 
+into worshipping many false gods, to the great dishonour of the true 
+God; and to serve dead men, who even in their lifetime did not truly 
+live, with temples, altars, sacrifices, and priests, all which, when of the 
+right kind, are due only to the one living and true God. 
+
+
+19. That Æneas came into Italy when Abdon the judge ruled over the Hebrews 
+
+
+After the capture and destruction of Troy, Æneas, with twenty ships 
+laden with the Trojan relics, came into Italy, when Latinus reigned there, 
+Menestheus in Athens, Polyphidos in Sicyon, and Tautanos in Assyria, 
+and Abdon was judge of the Hebrews. On the death of Latinus, Æneas 
+reigned three years, the same kings continuing in the abovenamed 
+places, except that Pelasgus was now king in Sicyon, and Sampson was 
+judge of the Hebrews, who is thought to be Hercules, because of his 
+wonderful strength. Now the Latins made Æneas one of their gods, 
+because at his death he was nowhere to be found. The Sabines also 
+placed among the gods their first king, Sancus, [Sangus], or Sanctus, as 
+some call him. At that time Codrus king of Athens exposed himself 
+
+
+incognito to be slain by the Peloponnesian foes of that city, and so was 
+slain. In this way, they say, he delivered his country. For the 
+Peloponnesians had received a response from the oracle, that they 
+should overcome the Athenians only on condition that they did not slay 
+their king. Therefore he deceived them by appearing in a poor man’s 
+dress, and provoking them, by quarrelling, to murder him. Whence 
+Virgil says, “Or the quarrels of Codrus.”19 And the Athenians worshipped 
+this man as a god with sacrificial honours. The fourth king of the Latins 
+was Silvius the son of Æneas, not by Creüsa, of whom Ascanius the third 
+king was born, but by Lavinia the daughter of Latinus, and he is said to 
+have been his posthumous child. Oneus was the twenty-ninth king of 
+Assyria, Melanthus the sixteenth of the Athenians, and Eli the priest was 
+judge of the Hebrews; and the kingdom of Sicyon then came to an end, 
+after lasting, it is said, for nine hundred and fifty-nine years. 
+
+
+20. Of the succession of the line of kings among the Israelites after the times of the judges 
+
+
+While these kings reigned in the places mentioned, the period of the 
+judges being ended, the kingdom of Israel next began with king Saul, 
+when Samuel the prophet lived. At that date those Latin kings began 
+who were surnamed Silvii, having that surname, in addition to their 
+proper name, from their predecessor, that son of Æneas who was called 
+Silvius; just as, long afterward, the successors of Cæsar Augustus were 
+surnamed Cæsars. Saul being rejected, so that none of his issue should 
+reign, on his death David succeeded him in the kingdom, after he had 
+reigned forty years. Then the Athenians ceased to have kings after the 
+death of Codrus, and began to have a magistracy to rule the republic. 
+After David, who also reigned forty years, his son Solomon was king of 
+Israel, who built that most noble temple of God at Jerusalem. In his time 
+Alba was built among the Latins, from which thereafter the kings began 
+to be styled kings not of the Latins, but of the Albans, although in the 
+same Latium. Solomon was succeeded by his son Rehoboam, under 
+whom that people was divided into two kingdoms, and its separate parts 
+began to have separate kings. 
+
+
+21. Of the kings of Latium, the first and twelfth of whom, Æneas and Aventinus, were made 
+gods 
+
+
+After Æneas, whom they deified, Latium had eleven kings, none of 
+
+
+whom was deified. But Aventinus, who was the twelfth after Æneas, 
+having been laid low in war, and buried in that hill still called by his 
+name, was added to the number of such gods as they made for 
+themselves. Some, indeed, were unwilling to write that he was slain in 
+battle, but said he was nowhere to be found, and that it was not from his 
+name, but from the alighting of birds, that hill was called Aventinus.11 
+After this no god was made in Latium except Romulus the founder of 
+Rome. But two kings are found between these two, the first of whom I 
+shall describe in the Virgilian verse : 
+
+
+“Next came that Procas, glory of the Trojan race.”12 
+
+
+That greatest of all kingdoms, the Assyrian, had its long duration 
+brought to a close in his time, the time of Rome’s birth drawing nigh. 
+For the Assyrian empire was transferred to the Medes after nearly 
+thirteen hundred and five years, if we include the reign of Belus, who 
+begot Ninus, and, content with a small kingdom, was the first king there. 
+Now Procas reigned before Amulius. And Amulius had made his brother 
+Numitor’s daughter, Rhea by name, who was also called Ilia, a vestal 
+virgin, who conceived twin sons by Mars, as they will have it, in that 
+way honouring or excusing her adultery, adding as a proof that a she- 
+wolf nursed the infants when exposed. For they think this kind of beast 
+belongs to Mars, so that the she-wolf is believed to have given her teats 
+to the infants, because she knew they were the sons of Mars her lord; 
+although there are not wanting persons who say that when the crying 
+babes lay exposed, they were first of all picked up by I know not what 
+harlot, and sucked her breasts first (now harlots were called lupæ, she- 
+wolves, from which their vile abodes are even yet called lupanaria), and 
+that afterwards they came into the hands of the shepherd Faustulus, and 
+were nursed by Acca his wife. Yet what wonder is it, if, to rebuke the 
+king who had cruelly ordered them to be thrown into the water, God 
+was pleased, after divinely delivering them from the water, to succour, 
+by means of a wild beast giving milk, these infants by whom so great a 
+city was to be founded? Amulius was succeeded in the Latian kingdom 
+by his brother Numitor, the grandfather of Romulus; and Rome was 
+founded in the first year of this Numitor, who from that time reigned 
+along with his grandson Romulus. 
+
+
+22. That Rome was founded when the Assyrian kingdom perished, at which time Hezekiah 
+reigned in Judah 
+
+
+To be brief, the city of Rome was founded, like another Babylon, and 
+as it were the daughter of the former Babylon, by which God was 
+pleased to conquer the whole world, and subdue it far and wide by 
+bringing it into one fellowship of government and laws. For there were 
+already powerful and brave peoples and nations trained to arms, who 
+did not easily yield, and whose subjugation necessarily involved great 
+danger and destruction as well as great and horrible labour. For when 
+the Assyrian kingdom subdued almost all Asia, although this was done 
+by fighting, yet the wars could not be very fierce or difficult, because the 
+nations were as yet untrained to resist, and neither so many nor so great 
+as afterward; forasmuch as, after that greatest and indeed universal 
+flood, when only eight men escaped in Noah’s ark, not much more than 
+a thousand years had passed when Ninus subdued all Asia with the 
+exception of India. But Rome did not with the same quickness and 
+facility wholly subdue all those nations of the east and west which we 
+see brought under the Roman empire, because, in its gradual increase, in 
+whatever direction it was extended, it found them strong and warlike. At 
+the time when Rome was founded, then, the people of Israel had been in 
+the land of promise seven hundred and eighteen years. Of these years 
+twenty-seven belong to Joshua the son of Nun, and after that three 
+hundred and twenty-nine to the period of the judges. But from the time 
+when the kings began to reign there, three hundred and sixty-two years 
+had passed. And at that time there was a king in Judah called Ahaz, or, 
+as others compute, Hezekiah his successor, the best and most pious king, 
+who it is admitted reigned in the times of Romulus. And in that part of 
+the Hebrew nation called Israel, Hoshea had begun to reign. 
+
+
+23. Of the Erythrean sibyl, who is known to have sung many things about Christ more plainly 
+than the other sibyls 
+
+
+Some say the Erythrean sibyl prophesied at this time. Now Varro 
+declares there were many sibyls, and not merely one. This sibyl of 
+Erythre certainly wrote some things concerning Christ which are quite 
+manifest, and we first read them in the Latin tongue in verses of bad 
+Latin, and unrhythmical, through the unskilfulness, as we afterward 
+learned, of some interpreter unknown to me. For Flaccianus, a very 
+
+
+famous man, who was also a proconsul, a man of most ready eloquence 
+and much learning, when we were speaking about Christ, produced a 
+Greek manuscript, saying that it was the prophecies of the Erythrean 
+sibyl, in which he pointed out a certain passage which had the initial 
+letters of the lines so arranged that these words could be read in them: ‘ 
+Inoodg Xprstd¢ sod viog swryp which mean, “Jesus Christ the Son of God, the 
+Saviour.” And these verses, of which the initial letters yield that 
+meaning, contain what follows as translated by some one into Latin in 
+good rhythm : 
+
+
+= Judgment shall moisten the carth with the sweat of its standard, 
+
+ΠEver enduring, behold the King shall come through the ages, 
+
+M Sent to be here in the flesh, and Judge at the last of the world, 
+© O God, the believing and faithless alike shall behold Thee 
+
++3 Uplifted with saints, when at last the ages are ended. 
+
+ws Sisted before Him are souls in the flesh for His judgment. 
+
+
+M Hid in thick vapours, the while desolate lieth the earth. 
+
+* Rejected by men are the idols and long hidden treasures ; 
+
+tw Earth is consumed by the fire, and it searcheth the ocean and heaven ; 
+Issuing forth, it destroyeth the terrible portals of hell. 
+
+W Saints in their body and soul freedom and light shall inherit ; 
+
++) Those who are guilty shall burn in fire and brimstone for ever. 
+
+© Occult actions revealing, each one shall publish his secrets ; 
+
+ta Secrets of every man’s heart God shall reveal in the light. 
+
+@® Then shall be weeping and wailing, yea, and guashing of teeth ; 
+
+tw Eclipsed is the sun, and silenced the stars in their chorus. 
+
+© Over and gone is the splendour of moonlight, melted the heaven. 
+
++3 Uplifted by Him are the valleys, and cast down the mountains. 
+3 Utterly gone among men are distinctions of lofty and lowly 
+
+™ Into the plains rush the hills, the skies and oceans are mingled. 
+
+© Ob, what an end of all things! earth broken in pieces shall perish ; 
+M Swelling together at once shall the waters and flames fow in rivers. 
+
+
+M Soundiñg the archangel’s trumpet shall peal down from heaven, 
+
+© Over the wicked who groan in their guilt and their manifold sorrows. 
+
+» Trembling, tbe earth shall be opened, revealing chaos and hell, 
+
+m Every king before God shall stand in that day to be judged. 
+
+» Rivers of fire and of brimstone shall fall from the heavens. 
+In these Latin verses the meaning of the Greek is correctly given, 
+although not in the exact order of the lines as connected with the initial 
+letters; for in three of them, the fifth, eighteenth, and nineteenth, where 
+the Greek letter y occurs, Latin words could not be found beginning with 
+the corresponding letter, and yielding a suitable meaning. So that, if we 
+note down together the initial letters of all the lines in our Latin 
+translation except those three in which we retain the letter y in the 
+proper place, they will express in five Greek words this meaning, “Jesus 
+Christ the Son of God, the Saviour.” And the verses are twenty-seven, 
+which is the cube of three. For three times three are nine; and nine itself, 
+
+
+if tripled, so as to rise from the superficial square to the cube, comes to 
+
+
+twenty-seven. But if you join the initial letters of these five Greek words, 
+Incods Xprordg BeoF viog cwryp, which mean, “Jesus Christ the Son of God, the 
+Saviour,” they will make the word ‘x®s, that is, “fish,” in which word 
+Christ is mystically understood, because He was able to live, that is, to 
+exist, without sin in the abyss of this mortality as in the depth of waters. 
+But this sibyl, whether she is the Erythrean, or, as some rather 
+believe, the Cumzean, in her whole poem, of which this is a very small 
+portion, not only has nothing that can relate to the worship of the false 
+or feigned gods, but rather speaks against them and their worshippers in 
+such a way that we might even think she ought to be reckoned among 
+those who belong to the city of God. Lactantius also inserted in his work 
+the prophecies about Christ of a certain sibyl, he does not say which. But 
+I have thought fit to combine in a single extract, which may seem long, 
+what he has set down in many short quotations. She says, “Afterward He 
+shall come into the injurious hands of the unbelieving, and they will give 
+God buffets with profane hands, and with impure mouth will spit out 
+envenomed spittle; but He will with simplicity yield His holy back to 
+stripes. And He will hold His peace when struck with the fist, that no 
+one may find out what word, or whence, He comes to speak to hell; and 
+He shall be crowned with a crown of thorns. And they gave Him gall for 
+meat, and vinegar for His thirst: they will spread this table of 
+inhospitality. For thou thyself, being foolish, hast not understood thy 
+God, deluding the minds of mortals, but hast both crowned Him with 
+thorns and mingled for Him bitter gall. But the veil of the temple shall 
+be rent; and at midday it shall be darker than night for three hours. And 
+He shall die the death, taking sleep for three days; and then returning 
+from hell, He first shall come to the light, the beginning of the 
+resurrection being shown to the recalled.” Lactantius made use of these 
+sibylline testimonies, introducing them bit by bit in the course of his 
+discussion as the things he intended to prove seemed to require, and we 
+have set them down in one connected series, uninterrupted by comment, 
+only taking care to mark them by capitals, if only the transcribers do not 
+neglect to preserve them hereafter. Some writers, indeed, say that the 
+Erythrean sibyl was not in the time of Romulus, but of the Trojan war. 
+
+
+24. That the seven sages flourished in the reign of Romulus, when the ten tribes which were called 
+
+
+Israel were led into captivity by the Chaldeans, and Romulus, when dead, had divine honours 
+
+
+conferred on him 
+
+
+While Romulus reigned, Thales the Milesian is said to have lived, 
+being one of the seven sages, who succeeded the theological poets, of 
+whom Orpheus was the most renowned, and were called 29, that is, 
+sages. During that time the ten tribes, which on the division of the 
+people were called Israel, were conquered by the Chaldeans and led 
+captive into their lands, while the two tribes which were called Judah, 
+and had the seat of their kingdom in Jerusalem, remained in the land of 
+Judea. As Romulus, when dead, could nowhere be found, the Romans, as 
+is everywhere notorious, placed him among the gods—a thing which by 
+that time had already ceased to be done, and which was not done 
+afterwards till the time of the Cæsars, and then not through error, but in 
+flattery; so that Cicero ascribes great praises to Romulus, because he 
+merited such honours not in rude and unlearned times, when men were 
+easily deceived, but in times already polished and learned, although the 
+subtle and acute loquacity of the philosophers had not yet culminated. 
+But although the later times did not deify dead men, still they did not 
+cease to hold and worship as gods those deified of old; nay, by images, 
+which the ancients never had, they even increased the allurements of 
+vain and impious superstition, the unclean demons effecting this in their 
+heart, and also deceiving them by lying oracles, so that even the 
+fabulous crimes of the gods, which were not once imagined by a more 
+polite age, were yet basely acted in the plays in honour of these same 
+false deities. Numa reigned after Romulus; and although he had thought 
+that Rome would be better defended the more gods there were, yet on 
+his death he himself was not counted worthy of a place among them, as 
+if it were supposed that he had so crowded heaven that a place could not 
+be found for him there. They report that the Samian sibyl lived while he 
+reigned at Rome, and when Manasseh began to reign over the Hebrews 
+—an impious king, by whom the prophet Isaiah is said to have been 
+slain. 
+
+
+25. What philosophers were famous when Tarquinius Priscus reigned over the Romans, and 
+
+
+Zedekiah over the Hebrews, when Jerusalem was taken and the temple overthrown 
+
+
+When Zedekiah reigned over the Hebrews, and Tarquinius Priscus, the 
+successor of Ancus Martius, over the Romans, the Jewish people was led 
+captive into Babylon, Jerusalem and the temple built by Solomon being 
+
+
+overthrown. For the prophets, in chiding them for their iniquity and 
+impiety, predicted that these things should come to pass, especially 
+Jeremiah, who even stated the numbers of years. Pittacus of Mitylene, 
+another of the sages, is reported to have lived at that time. And Eusebius 
+writes that, while the people of God were held captive in Babylon, the 
+five other sages lived, who must be added to Thales, whom we 
+mentioned above, and Pittacus, in order to make up the seven. These are 
+Solon of Athens, Chilo of Lacedemon, Periander of Corinth, Cleobulus of 
+Lindus, and Bias of Priene. These flourished after the theological poets, 
+and were called sages, because they excelled other men in a certain 
+laudable line of life, and summed up some moral precepts in 
+epigrammatic sayings. But they left posterity no literary monuments, 
+except that Solon is alleged to have given certain laws to the Athenians, 
+and Thales was a natural philosopher, and left books of his doctrine in 
+short proverbs. In that time of the Jewish captivity, Anaximander, 
+Anaximenes, and Xenophanes, the natural philosophers, flourished. 
+Pythagoras also lived then, and at this time the name philosopher was 
+first used. 
+
+
+26. That at the time when the captivity of the Jews was brought to an end, on the completion of 
+
+
+seventy years, the Romans also were freed from kingly rule 
+
+
+At this time, Cyrus king of Persia, who also ruled the Chaldeans and 
+Assyrians, having somewhat relaxed the captivity of the Jews, made fifty 
+thousand of them return in order to rebuild the temple. They only began 
+the first foundations and built the altar; but, owing to hostile invasions, 
+they were unable to go on, and the work was put off to the time of 
+Darius. During the same time also those things were done which are 
+written in the book of Judith, which, indeed, the Jews are said not to 
+have received into the canon of the Scriptures. Under Darius king of 
+Persia, then, on the completion of the seventy years predicted by 
+Jeremiah the prophet, the captivity of the Jews was brought to an end, 
+and they were restored to liberty. Tarquin then reigned as the seventh 
+king of the Romans. On his expulsion, they also began to be free from 
+the rule of their kings. Down to this time the people of Israel had 
+prophets; but, although they were numerous, the canonical writings of 
+only a few of them have been preserved among the Jews and among us. 
+In closing the previous book, I promised to set down something in this 
+
+
+one about them, and I shall now do so. 
+
+
+27. Of the times of the prophets whose oracles are contained in books, and who sang many things 
+about the call of the Gentiles at the time when the Roman kingdom began and the Assyrian 
+came to an end 
+
+
+In order that we may be able to consider these times, let us go back a 
+a little to earlier times. At the beginning of the book of the prophet 
+Hosea, who is placed first of twelve, it is written, “The word of the Lord 
+which came to Hosea in the days of Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz, and 
+Hezekiah, kings of Judah.”!3 Amos also writes that he prophesied in the 
+days of Uzziah, and adds the name of Jeroboam king of Israel, who lived 
+at the same time.!4 Isaiah the son of Amos—either the above-named 
+prophet, or, as is rather affirmed, another who was not a prophet, but 
+was called by the same name—also puts at the head of his book these 
+four kings named by Hosea, saying by way of preface that he prophesied 
+in their days.15 Micah also names the same times as those of his 
+prophecy, after the days of Uzziah;!© for he names the same three kings 
+as Hosea named—Jotham, Ahaz, and Hezekiah. We find from their own 
+writings that these men prophesied contemporaneously. To these are 
+added Jonah in the reign of Uzziah, and Joel in that of Jotham, who 
+succeeded Uzziah. But we can find the date of these two prophets in the 
+chronicles,!7 not in their own writings, for they say nothing about it 
+themselves. Now these days extend from Procas king of the Latins, or his 
+predecessor Aventinus, down to Romulus king of the Romans, or even to 
+the beginning of the reign of his successor, Numa Pompilius. Hezekiah 
+king of Judah certainly reigned till then. So that thus these fountains of 
+prophecy, as I may call them, burst forth at once during those times 
+when the Assyrian kingdom failed and the Roman began; so that, just as 
+in the first period of the Assyrian kingdom Abraham arose, to whom the 
+most distinct promises were made that all nations should be blessed in 
+his seed, so at the beginning of the western Babylon, in the time of 
+whose government Christ was to come in whom these promises were to 
+be fulfilled, the oracles of the prophets were given not only in spoken 
+but in written words, for a testimony that so great a thing should come 
+to pass. For although the people of Israel hardly ever lacked prophets 
+from the time when they began to have kings, these were only for their 
+own use, not for that of the nations. But when the more manifestly 
+
+
+prophetic Scripture began to be formed, which was to benefit the nations 
+too, it was fitting that it should begin when this city was founded which 
+was to rule the nations. 
+
+
+28. Of the things pertaining to the gospel of Christ which Hosea and Amos prophesied 
+
+
+The prophet Hosea speaks so very profoundly that it is laborious work 
+to penetrate his meaning. But, according to promise, we must insert 
+something from his book. He says, “And it shall come to pass that in the 
+place where it was said unto them, Ye are not my people, there they 
+shall be called the sons of the living God.”!8 Even the apostles 
+understood this as a prophetic testimony of the calling of the nations 
+who did not formerly belong to God; and because this same people of 
+the Gentiles is itself spiritually among the children of Abraham, and for 
+that reason is rightly called Israel, therefore he goes on to say, “And the 
+children of Judah and the children of Israel shall be gathered together in 
+one, and shall appoint themselves one headship, and shall ascend from 
+the earth.”!19 We should but weaken the savour of this prophetic oracle if 
+we set ourselves to expound it. Let the reader but call to mind that 
+corner-stone and those two walls of partition, the one of the Jews, the 
+other of the Gentiles,2°9 and he will recognise them, the one under the 
+term sons of Judah, the other as sons of Israel, supporting themselves by 
+one and the same headship, and ascending from the earth. But that those 
+carnal Israelites who are now unwilling to believe in Christ shall 
+afterward believe, that is, their children shall (for they themselves, of 
+course, shall go to their own place by dying), this same prophet testifies, 
+saying, “For the children of Israel shall abide many days without a king, 
+without a prince, without a sacrifice, without an altar, without a 
+priesthood, without manifestations.”2! Who does not see that the Jews 
+are now thus? But let us hear what he adds: “And afterward shall the 
+children of Israel return, and seek the Lord their God, and David their 
+king, and shall be amazed at the Lord and at His goodness in the latter 
+days.”22 Nothing is clearer than this prophecy, in which by David, as 
+distinguished by the title of king, Christ is to be understood, “who is 
+made,” as the apostle says, “of the seed of David according to the 
+flesh.”23 This prophet has also foretold the resurrection of Christ on the 
+third day, as it behoved to be foretold, with prophetic loftiness, when he 
+says, “He will heal us after two days, and in the third day we shall rise 
+
+
+again.”24 In agreement with this the apostle says to us, “If ye be risen 
+with Christ, seek those things which are above.”25 Amos also prophesies 
+thus concerning such things: “Prepare thee, that thou mayst invoke thy 
+God, O Israel; for lo, I am binding the thunder, and creating the spirit, 
+and announcing to men their Christ.”26 And in another place he says, “In 
+that day will I raise up the tabernacle of David that is fallen, and build 
+up the breaches thereof; and I will raise up his ruins, and will build them 
+up again as in the days of old: that the residue of men may inquire for 
+me, and all the nations upon whom my name is invoked, saith the Lord 
+that doeth this.”27 
+
+
+29. What things are predicted by Isaiah concerning Christ and the Church 
+
+
+The prophecy of Isaiah is not in the book of the twelve prophets, who 
+are called the minor from the brevity of their writings, as compared with 
+those who are called the greater prophets because they published larger 
+volumes. Isaiah belongs to the latter, yet I connect him with the two 
+above named, because he prophesied at the same time. Isaiah, then, 
+together with his rebukes of wickedness, precepts of righteousness, and 
+predictions of evil, also prophesied much more than the rest about Christ 
+and the Church, that is, about the King and that city which he founded; 
+so that some say he should be called an evangelist rather than a prophet. 
+But, in order to finish this work, I quote only one out of many in this 
+place. Speaking in the person of the Father, he says, “Behold, my servant 
+shall understand, and shall be exalted and glorified very much. As many 
+shall be astonished at Thee.”28 This is about Christ. 
+
+But let us now hear what follows about the Church. He says, “Rejoice, 
+O barren, thou that barest not; break forth and cry, thou that didst not 
+travail with child: for many more are the children of the desolate than of 
+her that has an husband.”29 But these must suffice; and some things in 
+them ought to be expounded; yet I think those parts sufficient which are 
+so plain that even enemies must be compelled against their will to 
+understand them. 
+
+
+30. What Micah, Jonah, and Joel prophesied in accordance with the New Testament 
+
+
+The prophet Micah, representing Christ under the figure of a great 
+mountain, speaks thus: “It shall come to pass in the last days, that the 
+manifested mountain of the Lord shall be prepared on the tops of the 
+
+
+mountains, and it shall be exalted above the hills; and people shall 
+hasten unto it. Many nations shall go, and shall say, Come, let us go up 
+into the mountain of the Lord, and into the house of the God of Jacob; 
+and He will show us His way, and we will go in His paths: for out of 
+Zion shall proceed the law, and the word of the Lord out of Jerusalem. 
+And He shall judge among many people, and rebuke strong nations afar 
+off.”30 This prophet predicts the very place in which Christ was born, 
+saying, “And thou, Bethlehem, of the house of Ephratah, art the least 
+that can be reckoned among the thousands of Judah; out of thee shall 
+come forth unto me a leader, to be the prince in Israel; and His going 
+forth is from the beginning, even from the days of eternity. Therefore 
+will He give them [up] even until the time when she that travaileth shall 
+bring forth; and the remnant of His brethren shall be converted to the 
+sons of Israel. And He shall stand, and see, and feed His flock in the 
+strength of the Lord, and in the dignity of the name of the Lord His God: 
+for now shall He be magnified even to the utmost of the earth.”31 
+
+The prophet Jonah, not so much by speech as by his own painful 
+experience, prophesied Christ’s death and resurrection much more 
+clearly than if he had proclaimed them with his voice. For why was he 
+taken into the whale’s belly and restored on the third day, but that he 
+might be a sign that Christ should return from the depths of hell on the 
+third day? 
+
+I should be obliged to use many words in explaining all that Joel 
+prophesies in order to make clear those that pertain to Christ and the 
+Church. But there is one passage I must not pass by, which the apostles 
+also quoted when the Holy Spirit came down from above on the 
+assembled believers according to Christ’s promise. He says, “And it shall 
+come to pass after these things, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all 
+flesh; and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your old 
+men shall dream, and your young men shall see visions: and even on my 
+servants and mine handmaids in those days will I pour out my Spirit.”32 
+
+
+31. Of the predictions concerning the salvation of the world in Christ, in Obadiah, Nahum, and 
+Habakkuk 
+
+
+The date of three of the minor prophets, Obadiah, Nahum, and 
+Habakkuk, is neither mentioned by themselves nor given in the 
+chronicles of Eusebius and Jerome. For although they put Obadiah with 
+
+
+Micah, yet when Micah prophesied does not appear from that part of 
+their writings in which the dates are noted. And this, I think, has 
+happened through their error in negligently copying the works of others. 
+But we could not find the two others now mentioned in the copies of the 
+chronicles which we have; yet because they are contained in the canon, 
+we ought not to pass them by. 
+
+Obadiah, so far as his writings are concerned, the briefest of all the 
+prophets, speaks against Idumea, that is, the nation of Esau, that 
+reprobate elder of the twin sons of Isaac and grandsons of Abraham. 
+Now if, by that form of speech in which a part is put for the whole, we 
+take Idumea as put for the nations, we may understand of Christ what he 
+says among other things, “But upon Mount Sion shall be safety, and 
+there shall be a Holy One.”33 And a little after, at the end of the same 
+prophecy, he says, “And those who are saved again shall come up out of 
+Mount Sion, that they may defend Mount Esau, and it shall be a 
+kingdom to the Lord.”54 It is quite evident this was fulfilled when those 
+saved again out of Mount Sion—that is, the believers in Christ from 
+Judea, of whom the apostles are chiefly to be acknowledged—went up to 
+defend Mount Esau. How could they defend it except by making safe, 
+through the preaching of the gospel, those who believed that they might 
+be “delivered from the power of darkness and translated into the 
+kingdom of God?”35 This he expressed as an inference, adding, “And it 
+shall be to the Lord a kingdom.” For Mount Sion signifies Judea, where 
+it is predicted there shall be safety, and a Holy One, that is, Christ Jesus. 
+But Mount Esau is Idumea, which signifies the Church of the Gentiles, 
+which, as I have expounded, those saved again out of Sion have 
+defended that it should be a kingdom to the Lord. This was obscure 
+before it took place; but what believer does not find it out now that it is 
+done? 
+
+As for the prophet Nahum, through him God says, “I will exterminate 
+the graven and the molten things: I will make thy burial. For lo, the feet 
+of Him that bringeth good tidings and announceth peace are swift upon 
+the mountains! O Judah, celebrate thy festival days, and perform thy 
+vows; for now they shall not go on any more so as to become antiquated. 
+It is completed, it is consumed, it is taken away. He ascendeth who 
+breathes in thy face, delivering thee out of tribulation.”36 Let him that 
+remembers the gospel call to mind who hath ascended from hell and 
+
+
+breathed the Holy Spirit in the face of Judah, that is, of the Jewish 
+disciples; for they belong to the New Testament, whose festival days are 
+so spiritually renewed that they cannot become antiquated. Moreover, 
+we already see the graven and molten things, that is, the idols of the 
+false gods, exterminated through the gospel, and given up to oblivion as 
+of the grave, and we know that this prophecy is fulfilled in this very 
+thing. 
+
+Of what else than the advent of Christ, who was to come, is Habakkuk 
+understood to say, “And the Lord answered me, and said, Write the 
+vision openly on a tablet of boxwood, that he that readeth these things 
+may understand. For the vision is yet for a time appointed, and it will 
+arise in the end, and will not become void: if it tarry, wait for it; because 
+it will surely come, and will not be delayed?”37 
+
+
+32. Of the prophecy that is contained in the prayer and song of Habakkuk 
+
+
+In his prayer, with a song, to whom but the Lord Christ does he say, 
+“O Lord, I have heard Thy hearing, and was afraid: O Lord, I have 
+considered Thy works, and was greatly afraid?”38 What is this but the 
+inexpressible admiration of the foreknown, new, and sudden salvation of 
+men? “In the midst of two living creatures thou shalt be recognised.” 
+What is this but either between the two testaments, or between the two 
+thieves, or between Moses and Elias talking with Him on the mount? 
+“While the years draw nigh, Thou wilt be recognised; at the coming of 
+the time Thou wilt be shown,” does not even need exposition. “While my 
+soul shall be troubled at Him, in wrath Thou wilt be mindful of mercy.” 
+What is this but that He puts Himself for the Jews, of whose nation He 
+was, who were troubled with great anger and crucified Christ, when He, 
+mindful of mercy, said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what 
+they do?”39 “God shall come from Teman, and the Holy One from the 
+shady and close mountain.”49 What is said here, “He shall come from 
+Teman.” some interpret “from the south,” or “from the south-west,” by 
+which is signified the noonday, that is, the fervour of charity and the 
+splendour of truth. “The shady and close mountain” might be understood 
+in many ways, yet I prefer to take it as meaning the depth of the divine 
+Scriptures, in which Christ is prophesied: for in the Scriptures there are 
+many things shady and close which exercise the mind of the reader; and 
+Christ comes thence when he who has understanding finds Him there. 
+
+
+“His power covereth up the heavens, and the earth is full of His praise.” 
+What is this but what is also said in the psalm, “Be Thou exalted, O God, 
+above the heavens; and Thy glory above all the earth?”4! “His splendour 
+shall be as the light.” What is it but that the fame of Him shall illuminate 
+believers? “Horns are in His hands.” What is this but the trophy of the 
+cross? “And He hath placed the firm charity of His strength”42 needs no 
+exposition. “Before His face shall go the word, and it shall go forth into 
+the field after His feet.” What is this but that He should both be 
+announced before His coming hither and after His return hence? “He 
+stood, and the earth was moved.” What is this but that “He stood” for 
+succour, “and the earth was moved” to believe? “He regarded, and the 
+nations melted;” that is, He had compassion, and made the people 
+penitent. “The mountains are broken with violence;” that is, through the 
+power of those who work miracles the pride of the haughty is broken. 
+“The everlasting hills flowed down;” that is, they are humbled in time 
+that they may be lifted up for eternity. “I saw His goings [made] eternal 
+for His labours;” that is, I beheld His labour of love not left without the 
+reward of eternity. “The tents of Ethiopia shall be greatly afraid, and the 
+tents of the land of Midian;” that is, even those nations which are not 
+under the Roman authority, being suddenly terrified by the news of Thy 
+wonderful works, shall become a Christian people. “Wert Thou angry at 
+the rivers, O Lord? or was Thy fury against the rivers? or was Thy rage 
+against the sea?” This is said because He does not now come to condemn 
+the world, but that the world through Him might be saved.43 “For Thou 
+shalt mount upon Thy horses, and Thy riding shall be salvation;” that is, 
+Thine evangelists shall carry Thee, for they are guided by Thee, and Thy 
+gospel is salvation to them that believe in Thee. “Bending, Thou wilt 
+bend Thy bow against the sceptres, saith the Lord;” that is, Thou wilt 
+threaten even the kings of the earth with Thy judgment. “The earth shall 
+be cleft with rivers;” that is, by the sermons of those who preach Thee 
+flowing in upon them, men’s hearts shall be opened to make confession, 
+to whom it is said, “Rend your hearts and not your garments.”44 What 
+does “The people shall see Thee and grieve” mean, but that in mourning 
+they shall be blessed?45 What is “Scattering the waters in marching,” but 
+that by walking in those who everywhere proclaim Thee, Thou wilt 
+scatter hither and thither the streams of Thy doctrine? What is “The 
+abyss uttered its voice?” Is it not that the depth of the human heart 
+
+
+expressed what it perceived? The words, “The depth of its phantasy,” are 
+an explanation of the previous verse, for the depth is the abyss; and 
+“Uttered its voice” is to be understood before them, that is, as we have 
+said, it expressed what it perceived. Now the phantasy is the vision, 
+which it did not hold or conceal, but poured forth in confession. “The 
+sun was raised up, and the moon stood still in her course;” that is, Christ 
+ascended into heaven, and the Church was established under her King. 
+“Thy darts shall go in the light;” that is, Thy words shall not be sent in 
+secret, but openly. For He had said to His own disciples, “What I tell you 
+in darkness, that speak ye in the light.”46 “By threatening thou shalt 
+diminish the earth;” that is, by that threatening Thou shalt humble men. 
+“And in fury Thou shalt cast down the nations;” for in punishing those 
+who exalt themselves Thou dashest them one against another. “Thou 
+wentest forth for the salvation of Thy people, that Thou mightest save 
+Thy Christ; Thou hast sent death on the heads of the wicked.” None of 
+these words require exposition. “Thou hast lifted up the bonds, even to 
+the neck.” This may be understood even of the good bonds of wisdom, 
+that the feet may be put into its fetters, and the neck into its collar. 
+“Thou hast struck off in amazement of mind the bonds” must be 
+understood for, He lifts up the good and strikes off the bad, about which 
+it is said to Him, “Thou hast broken asunder my bonds,”47 and that “in 
+amazement of mind,” that is, wonderfully. “The heads of the mighty 
+shall be moved in it;” to wit, in that wonder. “They shall open their teeth 
+like a poor man eating secretly.” For some of the mighty among the Jews 
+shall come to the Lord, admiring His works and words, and shall 
+greedily eat the bread of His doctrine in secret for fear of the Jews, just 
+as the Gospel has shown they did. “And Thou hast sent into the sea Thy 
+horses, troubling many waters,” which are nothing else than many 
+people; for unless all were troubled, some would not be converted with 
+fear, others pursued with fury. “I gave heed, and my belly trembled at 
+the voice of the prayer of my lips; and trembling entered into my bones, 
+and my habit of body was troubled under me.” He gave heed to those 
+things which he said, and was himself terrified at his own prayer, which 
+he had poured forth prophetically, and in which he discerned things to 
+come. For when many people are troubled, he saw the threatening 
+tribulation of the Church, and at once acknowledged himself a member 
+of it, and said, “I shall rest in the day of tribulation,” as being one of 
+
+
+those who are rejoicing in hope, patient in tribulation.48 “That I may 
+ascend,” he says, “among the people of my pilgrimage,” departing quite 
+from the wicked people of his carnal kinship, who are not pilgrims in 
+this earth, and do not seek the country above.‘9 “Although the fig-tree,” 
+he says, “shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; the labour 
+of the olive shall lie, and the fields shall yield no meat; the sheep shall 
+be cut off from the meat, and there shall be no oxen in the stalls.” He 
+sees that nation which was to slay Christ about to lose the abundance of 
+spiritual supplies, which, in prophetic fashion, he has set forth by the 
+figure of earthly plenty. And because that nation was to suffer such 
+wrath of God, because, being ignorant of the righteousness of God, it 
+wished to establish its own,5° he immediately says, “Yet will I rejoice in 
+the Lord; I will joy in God my salvation. The Lord God is my strength, 
+and He will set my feet in completion; He will place me above the 
+heights, that I may conquer in His song,” to wit, in that song of which 
+something similar is said in the psalm, “He set my feet upon a rock, and 
+directed my goings, and put in my mouth a new song, a hymn to our 
+God.”5! He therefore conquers in the song of the Lord, who takes 
+pleasure in His praise, not in his own; that “He that glorieth, let him 
+glory in the Lord.”52 But some copies have, “I will joy in God my Jesus,” 
+which seem to me better than the version of those who, wishing to put it 
+in Latin, have not set down that very name which for us it is dearer and 
+sweeter to name. 
+
+
+33. What Jeremiah and Zephaniah have, by the prophetic Spirit, spoken before concerning Christ 
+
+
+and the calling of the nations 
+
+
+Jeremiah, like Isaiah, is one of the greater prophets, not of the minor, 
+like the others from whose writings I have just given extracts. He 
+prophesied when Josiah reigned in Jerusalem, and Ancus Martius at 
+Rome, when the capitivity of the Jews was already at hand; and he 
+continued to prophesy down to the fifth month of the captivity, as we 
+find from his writings. Zephaniah, one of the minor prophets, is put 
+along with him, because he himself says that he prophesied in the days 
+of Josiah; but he does not say till when. Jeremiah thus prophesied not 
+only in the times of Ancus Martius, but also in those of Tarquinius 
+Priscus, whom the Romans had for their fifth king. For he had already 
+begun to reign when that captivity took place. Jeremiah, in prophesying 
+
+
+of Christ, says, “The breath of our mouth, the Lord Christ, was taken in 
+our sins,”°3 thus briefly showing both that Christ is our Lord and that He 
+suffered for us. Also in another place he says, “This is my God, and there 
+shall none other be accounted of in comparison of Him; who hath found 
+out all the way of prudence, and hath given it to Jacob His servant, and 
+to Israel His beloved: afterward He was seen on the earth, and conversed 
+with men.”54 Some attribute this testimony not to Jeremiah, but to his 
+secretary, who was called Baruch; but it is more commonly ascribed to 
+Jeremiah. Again the same prophet says concerning Him, “Behold the 
+days come, saith the Lord, that I will raise up unto David a righteous 
+shoot, and a King shall reign and shall be wise, and shall do judgment 
+and justice in the earth. In those days Judah shall be saved, and Israel 
+shall dwell confidently: and this is the name which they shall call Him, 
+Our righteous Lord.”55 And of the calling of the nations which was to 
+come to pass, and which we now see fulfilled, he thus spoke: “O Lord my 
+God, and my refuge in the day of evils, to Thee shall the nations come 
+from the utmost end of the earth, saying, Truly our fathers have 
+worshipped lying images, wherein there is no profit.”56 But that the 
+Jews, by whom He behoved even to be slain, were not going to 
+acknowledge Him, this prophet thus intimates: “Heavy is the heart 
+through all; and He is a man, and who shall know Him?”57 That passage 
+also is his which I have quoted in the seventeenth book concerning the 
+new testament, of which Christ is the Mediator. For Jeremiah himself 
+says, “Behold, the days come, saith the Lord, that I will complete over 
+the house of Jacob a new testament,” and the rest, which may be read 
+there.58 
+
+For the present I shall put down those predictions about Christ by the 
+prophet Zephaniah, who prophesied with Jeremiah. “Wait ye upon me, 
+saith the Lord, in the day of my resurrection, in the future; because it is 
+my determination to assemble the nations, and gather together the 
+kingdoms.”59 And again he says, “The Lord will be terrible upon them, 
+and will exterminate all the gods of the earth; and they shall worship 
+Him every man from his place, even all the isles of the nations.”©9 And a 
+little after he says, “Then will I turn to the people a tongue, and to His 
+offspring, that they may call upon the name of the Lord, and serve Him 
+under one yoke. From the borders of the rivers of Ethiopia shall they 
+bring sacrifices unto me. In that day thou shalt not be confounded for all 
+
+
+thy curious inventions, which thou hast done impiously against me: for 
+then I will take away from thee the naughtiness of thy trespass; and thou 
+shalt no more magnify thyself above thy holy mountain. And I will leave 
+in thee a meek and humble people, and they who shall be left of Israel 
+shall fear the name of the Lord.”61 These are the remnant of whom the 
+apostle quotes that which is elsewhere prophesied: “Though the number 
+of the children of Israel be as the sand of the sea, a remnant shall be 
+saved.”62 These are the remnant of that nation who have believed in 
+Christ. 
+
+
+34. Of the prophecy of Daniel and Ezekiel, other two of the greater prophets 
+
+
+Daniel and Ezekiel, other two of the greater prophets, also first 
+prophesied in the very captivity of Babylon. Daniel even defined the 
+time when Christ was to come and suffer by the exact date. It would take 
+too long to show this by computation, and it has been done often by 
+others before us. But of His power and glory he has thus spoken: “I saw 
+in a night vision, and, behold, one like the Son of man was coming with 
+the clouds of heaven, and He came even to the Ancient of days, and He 
+was brought into His presence. And to Him there was given dominion, 
+and honour, and a kingdom: and all people, tribes, and tongues shall 
+serve Him. His power is an everlasting power, which shall not pass 
+away, and His kingdom shall not be destroyed.”63 
+
+Ezekiel also, speaking prophetically in the person of God the Father, 
+thus foretells Christ, speaking of Him in the prophetic manner as David 
+because He assumed flesh of the seed of David, and on account of that 
+form of a servant in which He was made man, He who is the Son of God 
+is also called the servant of God. He says, “And I will set up over my 
+sheep one Shepherd, who will feed them, even my servant David; and He 
+shall feed them, and He shall be their shepherd. And I the Lord will be 
+their God, and my servant David a prince in the midst of them. I the 
+Lord have spoken.”64 And in another place he says, “And one King shall 
+be over them all: and they shall no more be two nations, neither shall 
+they be divided any more into two kingdoms: neither shall they defile 
+themselves any more with their idols, and their abominations, and all 
+their iniquities. And I will save them out of all their dwelling-places 
+wherein they have sinned, and will cleanse them; and they shall be my 
+people, and I will be their God. And my servant David shall be king over 
+
+
+them, and there shall be one Shepherd for them all.”65 
+
+
+35. Of the prophecy of the three prophets, Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi 
+
+
+There remain three minor prophets, Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi, 
+who prophesied at the close of the captivity. Of these Haggai more 
+openly prophesies of Christ and the Church thus briefly: “Thus saith the 
+Lord of hosts, Yet one little while, and I will shake the heaven, and the 
+earth, and the sea, and the dry land; and I will move all nations, and the 
+desired of all nations shall come.”6® The fulfilment of this prophecy is in 
+part already seen, and in part hoped for in the end. For He moved the 
+heaven by the testimony of the angels and the stars, when Christ became 
+incarnate. He moved the earth by the great miracle of His birth of the 
+virgin. He moved the sea and the dry land, when Christ was proclaimed 
+both in the isles and in the whole world. So we see all nations moved to 
+the faith; and the fulfilment of what follows, “And the desired of all 
+nations shall come,” is looked for at His last coming. For ere men can 
+desire and wait for Him, they must believe and love Him. 
+
+Zechariah says of Christ and the Church, “Rejoice greatly O daughter 
+of Sion; shout joyfully, O daughter of Jerusalem: behold, thy King shall 
+come unto thee, just and the Saviour; Himself poor, and mounting an 
+ass, and a colt the foal of an ass: and His dominion shall be from sea to 
+sea, and from the river even to the ends of the earth.”6”7 How this was 
+done, when the Lord Christ on His journey used a beast of burden of this 
+kind, we read in the Gospel, where, also, as much of this prophecy is 
+quoted as appears sufficient for the context. In another place, speaking 
+in the Spirit of prophecy to Christ Himself of the remission of sins 
+through His blood, he says, “Thou also, by the blood of Thy testament, 
+hast sent forth Thy prisoners from the lake wherein is no water.”68 
+Different opinions may be held, consistently with right belief, as to what 
+he meant by this lake. Yet it seems to me that no meaning suits better 
+than that of the depth of human misery, which is, as it were, dry and 
+barren, where there are no streams of righteousness, but only the mire of 
+iniquity. For it is said of it in the Psalms, “And He led me forth out of the 
+lake of misery, and from the miry clay.”69 
+
+Malachi, foretelling the Church which we now behold propagated 
+through Christ, says most openly to the Jews, in the person of God, “I 
+have no pleasure in you, and I will not accept a gift at your hand. For 
+
+
+from the rising even to the going down of the sun, my name is great 
+among the nations; and in every place sacrifice shall be made, and a 
+pure oblation shall be offered unto my name: for my name shall be great 
+among the nations, saith the Lord.”7° Since we can already see this 
+sacrifice offered to God in every place, from the rising of the sun to his 
+going down, through Christ’s priesthood after the order of Melchizedek, 
+while the Jews, to whom it was said, “I have no pleasure in you, neither 
+will I accept a gift at your hand,” cannot deny that their sacrifice has 
+ceased, why do they still look for another Christ, when they read this in 
+the prophecy, and see it fulfilled, which could not be fulfilled except 
+through Him? And a little after he says of Him, in the person of God, 
+“My covenant was with Him of life and peace; and I gave to Him that He 
+might fear me with fear, and be afraid before my name. The law of truth 
+was in His mouth: directing in peace He hath walked with me, and hath 
+turned many away from iniquity. For the Priest’s lips shall keep 
+knowledge, and they shall seek the law at His mouth: for He is the Angel 
+of the Lord Almighty.”7”! Nor is it to be wondered at that Christ Jesus is 
+called the Angel of the Almighty God. For just as He is called a servant 
+on account of the form of a servant in which He came to men, so He is 
+called an angel on account of the evangel which He proclaimed to men. 
+For if we interpret these Greek words, evangel is “good news,” and angel 
+is “messenger.” Again he says of Him, “Behold I will send mine angel, 
+and He will look out the way before my face: and the Lord, whom ye 
+seek, shall suddenly come into His temple, even the Angel of the 
+testament, whom ye desire. Behold, He cometh, saith the Lord Almighty, 
+and who shall abide the day of His entry, or who shall stand at His 
+appearing?”’2 In this place he has foretold both the first and second 
+advent of Christ: the first, to wit, of which he says, “And He shall come 
+suddenly into His temple;” that is, into His flesh, of which He said in the 
+Gospel, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up again.”73 
+And of the second advent he says, “Behold, He cometh, saith the Lord 
+Almighty, and who shall abide the day of His entry, or who shall stand 
+at His appearing?” But what he says, “The Lord whom ye seek, and the 
+Angel of the testament whom ye desire,” just means that even the Jews, 
+according to the Scriptures which they read, shall seek and desire Christ. 
+But many of them did not acknowledge that He whom they sought and 
+desired had come, being blinded in their hearts, which were preoccupied 
+
+
+with their own merits. Now what he here calls the testament, either 
+above, where he says, “My testament had been with Him,” or here, 
+where he has called Him the Angel of the testament, we ought, beyond a 
+doubt, to take to be the new testament, in which the things promised are 
+eternal, and not the old, in which they are only temporal. Yet many who 
+are weak are troubled when they see the wicked abound in such 
+temporal things, because they value them greatly, and serve the true 
+God to be rewarded with them. On this account, to distinguish the 
+eternal blessedness of the new testament, which shall be given only to 
+the good, from the earthly felicity of the old, which for the most part is 
+given to the bad as well, the same prophet says, “Ye have made your 
+words burdensome to me: yet ye have said, In what have we spoken ill 
+of Thee? Ye have said, Foolish is every one who serves God; and what 
+profit is it that we have kept His observances, and that we have walked 
+as suppliants before the face of the Lord Almighty? And now we call the 
+aliens blessed; yea, all that do wicked things are built up again; yea, they 
+are opposed to God and are saved. They that feared the Lord uttered 
+these reproaches every one to his neighbour: and the Lord hearkened 
+and heard; and He wrote a book of remembrance before Him, for them 
+that fear the Lord and that revere His name.”74 By that book is meant 
+the New Testament. Finally, let us hear what follows: “And they shall be 
+an acquisition for me, saith the Lord Almighty, in the day which I make; 
+and I will choose them as a man chooseth his son that serveth him. And 
+ye shall return, and shall discern between the just and the unjust, and 
+between him that serveth God and him that serveth Him not. For, 
+behold, the day cometh burning as an oven, and it shall burn them up; 
+and all the aliens and all that do wickedly shall be stubble: and the day 
+that shall come will set them on fire, saith the Lord Almighty, and shall 
+leave neither root nor branch. And unto you that fear my name shall the 
+Sun of Righteousness arise, and health shall be in His wings; and ye shall 
+go forth, and exult as calves let loose from bonds. And ye shall tread 
+down the wicked, and they shall be ashes under your feet, in the day in 
+which I shall do [this], saith the Lord Almighty.”75 This day is the day of 
+judgment, of which, if God will, we shall speak more fully in its own 
+place. 
+
+
+36. About Esdras and the books of the Maccabees 
+
+
+After these three prophets, Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi, during the 
+same period of the liberation of the people from the Babylonian 
+servitude Esdras also wrote, who is historical rather than prophetical, as 
+is also the book called Esther, which is found to relate, for the praise of 
+God, events not far from those times; unless, perhaps, Esdras is to be 
+understood as prophesying of Christ in that passage where, on a question 
+having arisen among certain young men as to what is the strongest 
+thing, when one had said kings, another wine, the third women, who for 
+the most part rule kings, yet that same third youth demonstrated that 
+the truth is victorious over all.76 For by consulting the Gospel we learn 
+that Christ is the Truth. From this time, when the temple was rebuilt, 
+down to the time of Aristobulus, the Jews had not kings but princes; and 
+the reckoning of their dates is found, not in the Holy Scriptures which 
+are called canonical, but in others, among which are also the books of 
+the Maccabees. These are held as canonical, not by the Jews, but by the 
+Church, on account of the extreme and wonderful sufferings of certain 
+martyrs, who, before Christ had come in the flesh, contended for the law 
+of God even unto death, and endured most grievous and horrible evils. 
+
+
+37. That prophetic records are found which are more ancient than any fountain of the Gentile 
+
+
+philosophy 
+
+
+In the time of our prophets, then, whose writings had already come to 
+the knowledge of almost all nations, the philosophers of the nations had 
+not yet arisen—at least, not those who were called by that name, which 
+originated with Pythagoras the Samian, who was becoming famous at 
+the time when the Jewish captivity ended. Much more, then, are the 
+other philosophers found to be later than the prophets. For even Socrates 
+the Athenian, the master of all who were then most famous, holding the 
+pre-eminence in that department that is called the moral or active, is 
+found after Esdras in the chronicles. Plato also was born not much later, 
+who far outwent the other disciples of Socrates. If, besides these, we take 
+their predecessors, who had not yet been styled philosophers, to wit, the 
+seven sages, and then the physicists, who succeeded Thales, and imitated 
+his studious search into the nature of things, namely, Anaximander, 
+Anaximenes, and Anaxagoras, and some others, before Pythagoras first 
+professed himself a philosopher, even these did not precede the whole of 
+our prophets in antiquity of time, since Thales, whom the others 
+
+
+succeeded, is said to have flourished in the reign of Romulus, when the 
+stream of prophecy burst forth from the fountains of Israel in those 
+writings which spread over the whole world. So that only those 
+theological poets, Orpheus, Linus, and Muszus, and, it may be, some 
+others among the Greeks, are found earlier in date than the Hebrew 
+prophets whose writings we hold as authoritative. But not even these 
+preceded in time our true divine, Moses, who authentically preached the 
+one true God, and whose writings are first in the authoritative canon; 
+and therefore the Greeks, in whose tongue the literature of this age 
+chiefly appears, have no ground for boasting of their wisdom, in which 
+our religion, wherein is true wisdom, is most evidently more ancient at 
+least, if not superior. Yet it must be confessed that before Moses there 
+had already been, not indeed among the Greeks, but among barbarous 
+nations, as in Egypt, some doctrine which might be called their wisdom, 
+else it would not have been written in the holy books that Moses was 
+learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians,”7” as he was, when, being 
+born there, and adopted and nursed by Pharaoh’s daughter, he was also 
+liberally educated. Yet not even the wisdom of the Egyptians could be 
+antecedent in time to the wisdom of our prophets, because even 
+Abraham was a prophet. And what wisdom could there be in Egypt 
+before Isis had given them letters, whom they thought fit to worship as a 
+goddess after her death? Now Isis is declared to have been the daughter 
+of Inachus, who first began to reign in Argos when the grandsons of 
+Abraham are known to have been already born. 
+
+
+38. That the ecclesiastical canon has not admitted certain writings on account of their too great 
+
+
+antiquity, lest through them false things should be inserted instead of true 
+
+
+If I may recall far more ancient times, our patriarch Noah was 
+certainly even before that great deluge, and I might not undeservedly 
+call him a prophet, forasmuch as the ark he made, in which he escaped 
+with his family, was itself a prophecy of our times.78 What of Enoch, the 
+seventh from Adam? Does not the canonical epistle of the Apostle Jude 
+declare that he prophesied?7? But the writings of these men could not be 
+held as authoritative either among the Jews or us, on account of their 
+too great antiquity, which made it seem needful to regard them with 
+suspicion, lest false things should be set forth instead of true. For some 
+writings which are said to be theirs are quoted by those who, according 
+
+
+to their own humour, loosely believe what they please. But the purity of 
+the canon has not admitted these writings, not because the authority of 
+these men who pleased God is rejected, but because they are not 
+believed to be theirs. Nor ought it to appear strange if writings for which 
+so great antiquity is claimed are held in suspicion, seeing that in the 
+very history of the kings of Judah and Israel containing their acts, which 
+we believe to belong to the canonical Scripture, very many things are 
+mentioned which are not explained there, but are said to be found in 
+other books which the prophets wrote, the very names of these prophets 
+being sometimes given, and yet they are not found in the canon which 
+the people of God received. Now I confess the reason of this is hidden 
+from me; only I think that even those men, to whom certainly the Holy 
+Spirit revealed those things which ought to be held as of religious 
+authority, might write some things as men by historical diligence, and 
+others as prophets by divine inspiration; and these things were so 
+distinct, that it was judged that the former should be ascribed to 
+themselves, but the latter to God speaking through them: and so the one 
+pertained to the abundance of knowledge, the other to the authority of 
+religion. In that authority the canon is guarded. So that, if any writings 
+outside of it are now brought forward under the name of the ancient 
+prophets, they cannot serve even as an aid to knowledge, because it is 
+uncertain whether they are genuine; and on this account they are not 
+trusted, especially those of them in which some things are found that are 
+even contrary to the truth of the canonical books, so that it is quite 
+apparent they do not belong to them. 
+
+
+39. About the Hebrew written characters which that language always possessed 
+
+
+Now we must not believe that Heber, from whose name the word 
+Hebrew is derived, preserved and transmitted the Hebrew language to 
+Abraham only as a spoken language, and that the Hebrew letters began 
+with the giving of the law through Moses; but rather that this language, 
+along with its letters, was preserved by that succession of fathers. Moses, 
+indeed, appointed some among the people of God to teach letters, before 
+they could know any letters of the divine law. The Scripture calls these 
+men Ypaypareoazywyets who may be called in Latin inductores or 
+introductores of letters, because they, as it were, introduce them into the 
+hearts of the learners, or rather lead those whom they teach into them. 
+
+
+Therefore no nation could vaunt itself over our patriarchs and prophets 
+by any wicked vanity for the antiquity of its wisdom; since not even 
+Egypt, which is wont falsely and vainly to glory in the antiquity of her 
+doctrines, is found to have preceded in time the wisdom of our 
+patriarchs in her own wisdom, such as it is. Neither will any one dare to 
+say that they were most skilful in wonderful sciences before they knew 
+letters, that is, before Isis came and taught them there. Besides, what, for 
+the most part, was that memorable doctrine of theirs which was called 
+wisdom but astronomy, and it may be some other sciences of that kind, 
+which usually have more power to exercise men’s wit than to enlighten 
+their minds with true wisdom? As regards philosophy, which professes to 
+teach men something which shall make them happy, studies of that kind 
+flourished in those lands about the times of Mercury whom they called 
+Trismegistus, long before the sages and philosophers of Greece, but yet 
+after Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph, and even after Moses himself. 
+At that time, indeed, when Moses was born, Atlas is found to have lived, 
+that great astronomer, the brother of Prometheus, and maternal 
+grandson of the elder Mercury, of whom that Mercury Trismegistus was 
+the grandson. 
+
+
+40. About the most mendacious vanity of the Egyptians, in which they ascribe to their science an 
+
+
+antiquity of a hundred thousand years 
+
+
+In vain, then, do some babble with most empty presumption, saying 
+that Egypt has understood the reckoning of the stars for more than a 
+hundred thousand years. For in what books have they collected that 
+number who learned letters from Isis their mistress, not much more than 
+two thousand years ago? Varro, who has declared this, is no small 
+authority in history, and it does not disagree with the truth of the divine 
+books. For as it is not yet six thousand years since the first man, who is 
+called Adam, are not those to be ridiculed rather than refuted who try to 
+persuade us of anything regarding a space of time so different from, and 
+contrary to, the ascertained truth? For what historian of the past should 
+we credit more than him who has also predicted things to come which 
+we now see fulfilled? And the very disagreement of the historians among 
+themselves furnishes a good reason why we ought rather to believe him 
+who does not contradict the divine history which we hold. But, on the 
+other hand, the citizens of the impious city, scattered everywhere 
+
+
+through the earth, when they read the most learned writers, none of 
+whom seems to be of contemptible authority, and find them disagreeing 
+among themselves about affairs most remote from the memory of our 
+age, cannot find out whom they ought to trust. But we, being sustained 
+by divine authority in the history of our religion, have no doubt that 
+whatever is opposed to it is most false, whatever may be the case 
+regarding other things in secular books, which, whether true or false, 
+yield nothing of moment to our living rightly and happily. 
+
+
+41. About the discord of philosophic opinion, and the concord of the Scriptures that are held as 
+canonical by the Church 
+
+
+But let us omit further examination of history, and return to the 
+philosophers from whom we digressed to these things. They seem to 
+have laboured in their studies for no other end than to find out how to 
+live in a way proper for laying hold of blessedness. Why, then, have the 
+disciples dissented from their masters, and the fellow-disciples from one 
+another, except because as men they have sought after these things by 
+human sense and human reasonings? Now, although there might be 
+among them a desire of glory, so that each wished to be thought wiser 
+and more acute than another, and in no way addicted to the judgment of 
+others, but the inventor of his own dogma and opinion, yet I may grant 
+that there were some, or even very many of them, whose love of truth 
+severed them from their teachers or fellow-disciples, that they might 
+strive for what they thought was the truth, whether it was so or not. But 
+what can human misery do, or how or where can it reach forth, so as to 
+attain blessedness, if divine authority does not lead it? Finally, let our 
+authors, among whom the canon of the sacred books is fixed and 
+bounded, be far from disagreeing in any respect. It is not without good 
+reason, then, that not merely a few people prating in the schools and 
+gymnasia in captious disputations, but so many and great people, both 
+learned and unlearned, in countries and cities, have believed that God 
+spoke to them or by them, ie. the canonical writers, when they wrote 
+these books. There ought, indeed, to be but few of them, lest on account 
+of their multitude what ought to be religiously esteemed should grow 
+cheap; and yet not so few that their agreement should not be wonderful. 
+For among the multitude of philosophers, who in their works have left 
+behind them the monuments of their dogmas, no one will easily find any 
+
+
+who agree in all their opinions. But to show this is too long a task for 
+this work. 
+
+But what author of any sect is so approved in this demon-worshipping 
+city, that the rest who have differed from or opposed him in opinion 
+have been disapproved? The Epicureans asserted that human affairs 
+were not under the providence of the gods; and the Stoics, holding the 
+opposite opinion, agreed that they were ruled and defended by 
+favourable and tutelary gods. Yet were not both sects famous among the 
+Athenians? I wonder, then, why Anaxagoras was accused of a crime for 
+saying that the sun was a burning stone, and denying that it was a god at 
+all; while in the same city Epicurus flourished gloriously and lived 
+securely, although he not only did not believe that the sun or any star 
+was a god, but contended that neither Jupiter nor any of the gods dwelt 
+in the world at all, so that the prayers and supplications of men might 
+reach them! Were not both Aristippus and Antisthenes there, two noble 
+philosophers and both Socratic? yet they placed the chief end of life 
+within bounds so diverse and contradictory, that the first made the 
+delight of the body the chief good, while the other asserted that man 
+was made happy mainly by the virtue of the mind. The one also said that 
+the wise man should flee from the republic; the other, that he should 
+administer its affairs. Yet did not each gather disciples to follow his own 
+sect? Indeed, in the conspicuous and well-known porch, in gymnasia, in 
+gardens, in places public and private, they openly strove in bands each 
+for his own opinion, some asserting there was one world, others 
+innumerable worlds; some that this world had a beginning, others that it 
+had not; some that it would perish, others that it would exist always; 
+some that it was governed by the divine mind, others by chance and 
+accident; some that souls are immortal, others that they are mortal—and 
+of those who asserted their immortality, some said they transmigrated 
+through beasts, others that it was by no means so, while of those who 
+asserted their mortality, some said they perished immediately after the 
+body, others that they survived either a little while or a longer time, but 
+not always; some fixing supreme good in the body, some in the mind, 
+some in both; others adding to the mind and body external good things; 
+some thinking that the bodily senses ought to be trusted always, some 
+not always, others never. Now what people, senate, power, or public 
+dignity of the impious city has ever taken care to judge between all these 
+
+
+and other well-nigh innumerable dissensions of the philosophers, 
+approving and accepting some, and disapproving and rejecting others? 
+Has it not held in its bosom at random, without any judgment, and 
+confusedly, so many controversies of men at variance, not about fields, 
+houses, or anything of a pecuniary nature, but about those things which 
+make life either miserable or happy? Even if some true things were said 
+in it, yet falsehoods were uttered with the same licence; so that such a 
+city has not amiss received the title of the mystic Babylon. For Babylon 
+means confusion, as we remember we have already explained. Nor does 
+it matter to the devil, its king, how they wrangle among themselves in 
+contradictory errors, since all alike deservedly belong to him on account 
+of their great and varied impiety. 
+
+But that nation, that people, that city, that republic, these Israelites, to 
+whom the oracles of God were entrusted, by no means confounded with 
+similar licence false prophets with the true prophets; but, agreeing 
+together, and differing in nothing, acknowledged and upheld the 
+authentic authors of their sacred books. These were their philosophers, 
+these were their sages, divines, prophets, and teachers of probity and 
+piety. Whoever was wise and lived according to them was wise and lived 
+not according to men, but according to God who hath spoken by them. If 
+sacrilege is forbidden there, God hath forbidden it. If it is said, “Honour 
+thy father and thy mother,”8° God hath commanded it. If it is said, 
+“Thou shalt not commit adultery, Thou shalt not kill, Thou shalt not 
+steal,”8! and other similar commandments, not human lips but the 
+divine oracles have enounced them. Whatever truth certain 
+philosophers, amid their false opinions, were able to see, and strove by 
+laborious discussions to persuade men of—such as that God has made 
+this world, and Himself most providently governs it, or of the nobility of 
+the virtues, of the love of country, of fidelity in friendship, of good 
+works and everything pertaining to virtuous manners, although they 
+knew not to what end and what rule all these things were to be referred 
+—all these, by words prophetic, that is, divine, although spoken by men, 
+were commended to the people in that city, and not inculcated by 
+contention in arguments, so that he who should know them might be 
+afraid of contemning, not the wit of men, but the oracle of God. 
+
+
+42. By what dispensation of God’s providence the sacred Scriptures of the Old Testament were 
+
+
+translated out of Hebrew into Greek, that they might be made known to all the nations 
+
+
+One of the Ptolemies, kings of Egypt, desired to know and have these 
+sacred books. For after Alexander of Macedon, who is also styled the 
+Great, had by his most wonderful, but by no means enduring power, 
+subdued the whole of Asia, yea, almost the whole world, partly by force 
+of arms, partly by terror, and, among other kingdoms of the East, had 
+entered and obtained Judea also, on his death his generals did not 
+peaceably divide that most ample kingdom among them for a possession, 
+but rather dissipated it, wasting all things by wars. Then Egypt began to 
+have the Ptolemies as her kings. The first of them, the son of Lagus, 
+carried many captive out of Judea into Egypt. But another Ptolemy, 
+called Philadelphus, who succeeded him, permitted all whom he had 
+brought under the yoke to return free; and, more than that, sent kingly 
+gifts to the temple of God, and begged Eleazar, who was the high priest, 
+to give him the Scriptures, which he had heard by report were truly 
+divine, and therefore greatly desired to have in that most noble library 
+he had made. When the high priest had sent them to him in Hebrew, he 
+afterwards demanded interpreters of him, and there were given him 
+seventy-two, out of each of the twelve tribes six men, most learned in 
+both languages, to wit, the Hebrew and Greek; and their translation is 
+now by custom called the Septuagint. It is reported, indeed, that there 
+was an agreement in their words so wonderful, stupendous, and plainly 
+divine, that when they had sat at this work, each one apart (for so it 
+pleased Ptolemy to test their fidelity), they differed from each other in 
+no word which had the same meaning and force, or in the order of the 
+words; but, as if the translators had been one, so what all had translated 
+was one, because in very deed the one Spirit had been in them all. And 
+they received so wonderful a gift of God, in order that the authority of 
+these Scriptures might be commended not as human but divine, as 
+indeed it was, for the benefit of the nations who should at some time 
+believe, as we now see them doing. 
+
+
+43. Of the authority of the Septuagint translation, which, saving the honour of the Hebrew 
+
+
+original, is to be preferred to all translations 
+
+
+For while there were other interpreters who translated these sacred 
+oracles out of the Hebrew tongue into Greek, as Aquila, Symmachus, and 
+Theodotion, and also that translation which, as the name of the author is 
+
+
+unknown, is quoted as the fifth edition, yet the Church has received this 
+Septuagint translation just as if it were the only one; and it has been 
+used by the Greek Christian people, most of whom are not aware that 
+there is any other. From this translation there has also been made a 
+translation in the Latin tongue, which the Latin churches use. Our times, 
+however, have enjoyed the advantage of the presbyter Jerome, a man 
+most learned, and skilled in all three languages, who translated these 
+same Scriptures into the Latin speech, not from the Greek, but from the 
+Hebrew. But although the Jews acknowledge this very learned labour of 
+his to be faithful, while they contend that the Septuagint translators 
+have erred in many places, still the churches of Christ judge that no one 
+should be preferred to the authority of so many men, chosen for this 
+very great work by Eleazar, who was then high priest; for even if there 
+had not appeared in them one spirit, without doubt divine, and the 
+seventy learned men had, after the manner of men, compared together 
+the words of their translation, that what pleased them all might stand, 
+no single translator ought to be preferred to them; but since so great a 
+sign of divinity has appeared in them, certainly, if any other translator of 
+their Scriptures from the Hebrew into any other tongue is faithful, in 
+that case he agrees with these seventy translators, and if he is not found 
+to agree with them, then we ought to believe that the prophetic gift is 
+with them. For the same Spirit who was in the prophets when they spoke 
+these things was also in the seventy men when they translated them, so 
+that assuredly they could also say something else, just as if the prophet 
+himself had said both, because it would be the same Spirit who said 
+both; and could say the same thing differently, so that, although the 
+words were not the same, yet the same meaning should shine forth to 
+those of good understanding; and could omit or add something, so that 
+even by this it might be shown that there was in that work not human 
+bondage, which the translator owed to the words, but rather divine 
+power, which filled and ruled the mind of the translator. Some, however, 
+have thought that the Greek copies of the Septuagint version should be 
+emended from the Hebrew copies; yet they did not dare to take away 
+what the Hebrew lacked and the Septuagint had, but only added what 
+was found in the Hebrew copies and was lacking in the Septuagint, and 
+noted them by placing at the beginning of the verses certain marks in 
+the form of stars which they call asterisks. And those things which the 
+
+
+Hebrew copies have not, but the Septuagint have, they have in like 
+manner marked at the beginning of the verses by horizontal spit-shaped 
+marks like those by which we denote ounces; and many copies having 
+these marks are circulated even in Latin.82 But we cannot, without 
+inspecting both kinds of copies, find out those things which are neither 
+omitted nor added, but expressed differently, whether they yield another 
+meaning not in itself unsuitable, or can be shown to explain the same 
+meaning in another way. If, then, as it behoves us, we behold nothing 
+else in these Scriptures than what the Spirit of God has spoken through 
+men, if anything is in the Hebrew copies and is not in the version of the 
+Seventy, the Spirit of God did not choose to say it through them, but 
+only through the prophets. But whatever is in the Septuagint and not in 
+the Hebrew copies, the same Spirit chose rather to say through the 
+latter, thus showing that both were prophets. For in that manner He 
+spoke as He chose, some things through Isaiah, some through Jeremiah, 
+some through several prophets, or else the same thing through this 
+prophet and through that. Further, whatever is found in both editions, 
+that one and the same Spirit willed to say through both, but so as that 
+the former preceded in prophesying, and the latter followed in 
+prophetically interpreting them; because, as the one Spirit of peace was 
+in the former when they spoke true and concordant words, so the 
+selfsame one Spirit hath appeared in the latter, when, without mutual 
+conference, they yet interpreted all things as if with one mouth. 
+
+
+44. How the threat of the destruction of the Ninevites is to be understood, which in the Hebrew 
+extends to forty days, while in the Septuagint it is contracted to three 
+
+
+But some one may say, “How shall I know whether the prophet Jonah 
+said to the Ninevites, ‘Yet three days and Nineveh shall be overthrown,’ 
+or forty days?”83 For who does not see that the prophet could not say 
+both, when he was sent to terrify the city by the threat of imminent 
+ruin? For if its destruction was to take place on the third day, it certainly 
+could not be on the fortieth; but if on the fortieth, then certainly not on 
+the third. If, then, I am asked which of these Jonah may have said, I 
+rather think what is read in the Hebrew, “Yet forty days and Nineveh 
+shall be overthrown.” Yet the Seventy, interpreting long afterward, could 
+say what was different and yet pertinent to the matter, and agree in the 
+selfsame meaning, although under a different signification. And this may 
+
+
+admonish the reader not to despise the authority of either, but to raise 
+himself above the history, and search for those things which the history 
+itself was written to set forth. These things, indeed, took place in the city 
+of Nineveh, but they also signified something else too great to apply to 
+that city; just as, when it happened that the prophet himself was three 
+days in the whale’s belly, it signified besides, that He who is Lord of all 
+the prophets should be three days in the depths of hell. Wherefore, if 
+that city is rightly held as prophetically representing the Church of the 
+Gentiles, to wit, as brought down by penitence, so as no longer to be 
+what it had been, since this was done by Christ in the Church of the 
+Gentiles, which Nineveh represented, Christ Himself was signified both 
+by the forty and by the three days: by the forty, because He spent that 
+number of days with His disciples after the resurrection, and then 
+ascended into heaven, but by the three days, because He rose on the 
+third day. So that, if the reader desires nothing else than to adhere to the 
+history of events, he may be aroused from his sleep by the Septuagint 
+interpreters, as well as the prophets, to search into the depth of the 
+prophecy, as if they had said, In the forty days seek Him in whom thou 
+mayest also find the three days—the one thou wilt find in His ascension, 
+the other in His resurrection. Because that which could be most suitably 
+signified by both numbers, of which one is used by Jonah the prophet, 
+the other by the prophecy of the Septuagint version, the one and self- 
+same Spirit hath spoken. I dread prolixity, so that I must not 
+demonstrate this by many instances in which the seventy interpreters 
+may be thought to differ from the Hebrew, and yet, when well 
+understood, are found to agree. For which reason I also, according to my 
+capacity, following the footsteps of the apostles, who themselves have 
+quoted prophetic testimonies from both, that is, from the Hebrew and 
+the Septuagint, have thought that both should be used as authoritative, 
+since both are one, and divine. But let us now follow out as we can what 
+remains. 
+
+
+45. That the Jews ceased to have prophets after the rebuilding of the temple, and from that time 
+until the birth of Christ were afflicted with continual adversity, to prove that the building of 
+
+
+another temple had been promised by prophetic voices 
+
+
+The Jewish nation no doubt became worse after it ceased to have 
+prophets, just at the very time when, on the rebuilding of the temple 
+
+
+after the captivity in Babylon, it hoped to become better. For so, indeed, 
+did that carnal people understand what was foretold by Haggai the 
+prophet, saying, “The glory of this latter house shall be greater than that 
+of the former.”84 Now, that this is said of the new testament, he showed 
+a little above, where he says, evidently promising Christ, “And I will 
+move all nations, and the desired One shall come to all nations.”85 In 
+this passage the Septuagint translators, giving another sense more 
+suitable to the body than the Head, that is, to the Church than to Christ, 
+have said by prophetic authority, “The things shall come that are chosen 
+of the Lord from all nations,” that is, men, of whom Jesus saith in the 
+Gospel, “Many are called, but few are chosen.”86 For by such chosen 
+ones of the nations there is built, through the new testament, with living 
+stones, a house of God far more glorious than that temple was which was 
+constructed by king Solomon, and rebuilt after the captivity. For this 
+reason, then, that nation had no prophets from that time, but was 
+afflicted with many plagues by kings of alien race, and by the Romans 
+themselves, lest they should fancy that this prophecy of Haggai was 
+fulfilled by that rebuilding of the temple. 
+
+For not long after, on the arrival of Alexander, it was subdued, when, 
+although there was no pillaging, because they dared not resist him, and 
+thus, being very easily subdued, received him peaceably, yet the glory of 
+that house was not so great as it was when under the free power of their 
+own kings. Alexander, indeed, offered up sacrifices in the temple of God, 
+not as a convert to His worship in true piety, but thinking, with impious 
+folly, that He was to be worshipped along with false gods. Then Ptolemy 
+son of Lagus, whom I have already mentioned, after Alexander’s death 
+carried them captive into Egypt. His successor, Ptolemy Philadelphus, 
+most benevolently dismissed them; and by him it was brought about, as I 
+have narrated a little before, that we should have the Septuagint version 
+of the Scriptures. Then they were crushed by the wars which are 
+explained in the books of the Maccabees. Afterward they were taken 
+captive by Ptolemy king of Alexandria, who was called Epiphanes. Then 
+Antiochus king of Syria compelled them by many and most grievous 
+evils to worship idols, and filled the temple itself with the sacrilegious 
+superstitions of the Gentiles. Yet their most vigorous leader Judas, who 
+is also called Maccabeus, after beating the generals of Antiochus, 
+cleansed it from all that defilement of idolatry. 
+
+
+But not long after, one Alcimus, although an alien from the sacerdotal 
+tribe, was, through ambition, made pontiff, which was an impious thing. 
+After almost fifty years, during which they never had peace, although 
+they prospered in some affairs, Aristobulus first assumed the diadem 
+among them, and was made both king and pontiff. Before that, indeed, 
+from the time of their return from the Babylonish captivity and the 
+rebuilding of the temple, they had not kings, but generals or principes. 
+Although a king himself may be called a prince, from his principality in 
+governing, and a leader, because he leads the army, but it does not 
+follow that all who are princes and leaders may also be called kings, as 
+that Aristobulus was. He was succeeded by Alexander, also both king 
+and pontiff, who is reported to have reigned over them cruelly. After 
+him his wife Alexandra was queen of the Jews, and from her time 
+downwards more grievous evils pursued them; for this Alexandra’s sons, 
+Aristobulus and Hyrcanus, when contending with each other for the 
+kingdom, called in the Roman forces against the nation of Israel. For 
+Hyrcanus asked assistance from them against his brother. At that time 
+Rome had already subdued Africa and Greece, and ruled extensively in 
+other parts of the world also, and yet, as if unable to bear her own 
+weight, had, in a manner, broken herself by her own size. For indeed she 
+had come to grave domestic seditions, and from that to social wars, and 
+by and by to civil wars, and had enfeebled and worn herself out so 
+much, that the changed state of the republic, in which she should be 
+governed by kings, was now imminent. Pompey then, a most illustrious 
+prince of the Roman people, having entered Judea with an army, took 
+the city, threw open the temple, not with the devotion of a suppliant, 
+but with the authority of a conqueror, and went, not reverently, but 
+profanely, into the holy of holies, where it was lawful for none but the 
+pontiff to enter. Having established Hyrcanus in the pontificate, and set 
+Antipater over the subjugated nation as guardian or procurator, as they 
+were then called, he led Aristobulus with him bound. From that time the 
+Jews also began to be Roman tributaries. Afterward Cassius plundered 
+the very temple. Then after a few years it was their desert to have 
+Herod, a king of foreign birth, in whose reign Christ was born. For the 
+time had now come signified by the prophetic Spirit through the mouth 
+of the patriarch Jacob, when he says, “There shall not be lacking a 
+prince out of Judah, nor a teacher from his loins, until He shall come for 
+
+
+whom it is reserved; and He is the expectation of the nations.”87 There 
+lacked not therefore a Jewish prince of the Jews until that Herod, who 
+was the first king of a foreign race received by them. Therefore it was 
+now the time when He should come for whom that was reserved which 
+is promised in the New Testament, that He should be the expectation of 
+the nations. But it was not possible that the nations should expect He 
+would come, as we see they did, to do judgment in the splendour of 
+power, unless they should first believe in Him when He came to suffer 
+judgment in the humility of patience. 
+
+
+46. Of the birth of our Saviour, whereby the Word was made flesh; and of the dispersion of the 
+
+
+Jews among all nations, as had been prophesied 
+
+
+While Herod, therefore, reigned in Judea, and Cæsar Augustus was 
+emperor at Rome, the state of the republic being already changed, and 
+the world being set at peace by him, Christ was born in Bethlehem of 
+Judah, man manifest out of a human virgin, God hidden out of God the 
+Father. For so had the prophet foretold: “Behold, a virgin shall conceive 
+in the womb, and bring forth a Son, and they shall call His name 
+Immanuel, which, being interpreted, is, God with us.”88 He did many 
+miracles that He might commend God in Himself, some of which, even 
+as many as seemed sufficient to proclaim Him, are contained in the 
+evangelic Scripture. The first of these is, that He was so wonderfully 
+born, and the last, that with His body raised up again from the dead He 
+ascended into heaven. But the Jews who slew Him, and would not 
+believe in Him, because it behoved Him to die and rise again, were yet 
+more miserably wasted by the Romans, and utterly rooted out from their 
+kingdom, where aliens had already ruled over them, and were dispersed 
+through the lands (so that indeed there is no place where they are not), 
+and are thus by their own Scriptures a testimony to us that we have not 
+forged the prophecies about Christ. And very many of them, considering 
+this, even before His passion, but chiefly after His resurrection, believed 
+on Him, of whom it was predicted, “Though the number of the children 
+of Israel be as the sand of the sea, the remnant shall be saved.”89 But the 
+rest are blinded, of whom it was predicted, “Let their table be made 
+before them a trap, and a retribution, and a stumbling-block. Let their 
+eyes be darkened lest they see, and bow down their back alway.”90 
+Therefore, when they do not believe our Scriptures, their own, which 
+
+
+they blindly read, are fulfilled in them, lest perchance any one should 
+say that the Christians have forged these prophecies about Christ which 
+are quoted under the name of the sibyl, or of others, if such there be, 
+who do not belong to the Jewish people. For us, indeed, those suffice 
+which are quoted from the books of our enemies, to whom we make our 
+acknowledgment, on account of this testimony, which, in spite of 
+themselves, they contribute by their possession of these books, while 
+they themselves are dispersed among all nations, wherever the Church of 
+Christ is spread abroad. For a prophecy about this thing was sent before 
+in the Psalms, which they also read, where it is written, “My God, His 
+mercy shall prevent me. My God hath shown me concerning mine 
+enemies, that Thou shalt not slay them, lest they should at last forget 
+Thy law: disperse them in Thy might.”9! Therefore God has shown the 
+Church in her enemies the Jews the grace of His compassion, since, as 
+saith the apostle, “their offence is the salvation of the Gentiles.”92 And 
+therefore He has not slain them, that is, He has not let the knowledge 
+that they are Jews be lost in them, although they have been conquered 
+by the Romans, lest they should forget the law of God, and their 
+testimony should be of no avail in this matter of which we treat. But it 
+was not enough that he should say, “Slay them not, lest they should at 
+last forget Thy law,” unless he had also added, “Disperse them;” because 
+if they had only been in their own land with that testimony of the 
+Scriptures, and not everywhere, certainly the Church which is 
+everywhere could not have had them as witnesses among all nations to 
+the prophecies which were sent before concerning Christ. 
+
+
+47. Whether before Christian times there were any outside of the Israelite race who belonged to 
+the fellowship of the heavenly city 
+
+
+Wherefore if we read of any foreigner—that is, one neither born of 
+Israel nor received by that people into the canon of the sacred books— 
+having prophesied something about Christ, if it has come or shall come 
+to our knowledge, we can refer to it over and above; not that this is 
+necessary, even if wanting, but because it is not incongruous to believe 
+that even in other nations there may have been men to whom this 
+mystery was revealed, and who were also impelled to proclaim it, 
+whether they were partakers of the same grace or had no experience of 
+it, but were taught by bad angels, who, as we know, even confessed the 
+
+
+present Christ, whom the Jews did not acknowledge. Nor do I think the 
+Jews themselves dare contend that no one has belonged to God except 
+the Israelites, since the increase of Israel began on the rejection of his 
+elder brother. For in very deed there was no other people who were 
+specially called the people of God; but they cannot deny that there have 
+been certain men even of other nations who belonged, not by earthly but 
+heavenly fellowship, to the true Israelites, the citizens of the country 
+that is above. Because, if they deny this, they can be most easily 
+confuted by the case of the holy and wonderful man Job, who was 
+neither a native nor a proselyte, that is, a stranger joining the people of 
+Israel, but, being bred of the Idumean race, arose there and died there 
+too, and who is so praised by the divine oracle, that no man of his times 
+is put on a level with him as regards justice and piety. And although we 
+do not find his date in the chronicles, yet from his book, which for its 
+merit the Israelites have received as of canonical authority, we gather 
+that he was in the third generation after Israel. And I doubt not it was 
+divinely provided, that from this one case we might know that among 
+other nations also there might be men pertaining to the spiritual 
+Jerusalem who have lived according to God and have pleased Him. And 
+it is not to be supposed that this was granted to any one, unless the one 
+Mediator between God and men, the Man Christ Jesus,93 was divinely 
+revealed to him; who was pre-announced to the saints of old as yet to 
+come in the flesh, even as He is announced to us as having come, that 
+the selfsame faith through Him may lead all to God who are 
+predestinated to be the city of God, the house of God, and the temple of 
+God. But whatever prophecies concerning the grace of God through 
+Christ Jesus are quoted, they may be thought to have been forged by the 
+Christians. So that there is nothing of more weight for confuting all sorts 
+of aliens, if they contend about this matter, and for supporting our 
+friends, if they are truly wise, than to quote those divine predictions 
+about Christ which are written in the books of the Jews, who have been 
+torn from their native abode and dispersed over the whole world in 
+order to bear this testimony, so that the Church of Christ has everywhere 
+increased. 
+
+
+48. That Haggai’s prophecy, in which he said that the glory of the house of God would be greater 
+than that of the first had been,?* was really fulfilled, not in the rebuilding of the temple, but in 
+
+
+the Church of Christ 
+
+
+This house of God is more glorious than that first one which was 
+constructed of wood and stone, metals, and other precious things. 
+Therefore the prophecy of Haggai was not fulfilled in the rebuilding of 
+that temple. For it can never be shown to have had so much glory after 
+it was rebuilt as it had in the time of Solomon; yea, rather, the glory of 
+that house is shown to have been diminished, first by the ceasing of 
+prophecy, and then by the nation itself suffering so great calamities, 
+even to the final destruction made by the Romans, as the things above- 
+mentioned prove. But this house which pertains to the new testament is 
+just as much more glorious as the living stones, even believing, renewed 
+men, of which it is constructed are better. But it was typified by the 
+rebuilding of that temple for this reason, because the very renovation of 
+that edifice typifies in the prophetic oracle another testament which is 
+called the new. When, therefore, God said by the prophet just named, 
+“And I will give peace in this place,”95 He is to be understood who is 
+typified by that typical place; for since by that rebuilt place is typified 
+the Church which was to be built by Christ, nothing else can be accepted 
+as the meaning of the saying, “I will give peace in this place,” except I 
+will give peace in the place which that place signifies. For all typical 
+things seem in some way to personate those whom they typify, as it is 
+said by the apostle, “That Rock was Christ.”9© Therefore the glory of this 
+new testament house is greater than the glory of the old testament 
+house; and it will show itself as greater when it shall be dedicated. For 
+then “shall come the desired of all nations,”97 as we read in the Hebrew. 
+For before His advent He had not yet been desired by all nations. For 
+they knew not Him whom they ought to desire, in whom they had not 
+believed. Then, also, according to the Septuagint interpretation (for it 
+also is a prophetic meaning), “shall come those who are elected of the 
+Lord out of all nations.” For then indeed there shall come only those 
+who are elected, whereof the apostle saith, “According as He hath 
+chosen us in Him before the foundation of the world.”98 For the Master 
+Builder who said, “Many are called, but few are chosen,”99 did not say 
+this of those who, on being called, came in such a way as to be cast out 
+from the feast, but would point out the house built up of the elect, which 
+henceforth shall dread no ruin. Yet because the churches are also full of 
+
+
+those who shall be separated by the winnowing as in the threshing-floor, 
+the glory of this house is not so apparent now as it shall be when every 
+one who is there shall be there always. 
+
+
+49. Of the indiscriminate increase of the Church, wherein many reprobate are in this world 
+
+
+mixed with the elect 
+
+
+In this wicked world, in these evil days, when the Church measures 
+her future loftiness by her present humility, and is exercised by goading 
+fears, tormenting sorrows, disquieting labours, and dangerous 
+temptations, when she soberly rejoices, rejoicing only in hope, there are 
+many reprobate mingled with the good, and both are gathered together 
+by the gospel as in a drag net;!00 and in this world, as in a sea, both 
+swim enclosed without distinction in the net, until it is brought ashore, 
+when the wicked must be separated from the good, that in the good, as 
+in His temple, God may be all in all. We acknowledge, indeed, that His 
+word is now fulfilled who spake in the psalm, and said, “I have 
+announced and spoken; they are multiplied above number.”!°1 This 
+takes place now, since He has spoken, first by the mouth of his 
+forerunner John, and afterward by His own mouth, saying, “Repent: for 
+the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”!02 He chose disciples, whom He also 
+called apostles,1°3 of lowly birth, unhonoured, and illiterate, so that 
+whatever great thing they might be or do, He might be and do it in 
+them. He had one among them whose wickedness He could use well in 
+order to accomplish His appointed passion, and furnish His Church an 
+example of bearing with the wicked. Having sown the holy gospel as 
+much as that behoved to be done by His bodily presence, He suffered, 
+died, and rose again, showing by His passion what we ought to suffer for 
+the truth, and by His resurrection what we ought to hope for in 
+adversity; saving always the mystery of the sacrament, by which His 
+blood was shed for the remission of sins. He held converse on the earth 
+forty days with His disciples, and in their sight ascended into heaven, 
+and after ten days sent the promised Holy Spirit. It was given as the 
+chief and most necessary sign of His coming on those who had believed, 
+that every one of them spoke in the tongues of all nations; thus 
+signifying that the unity of the catholic Church would embrace all 
+nations, and would in like manner speak in all tongues. 
+
+
+50. Of the preaching of the gospel, which is made more famous and powerful by the sufferings of 
+
+
+its preachers 
+
+
+Then was fulfilled that prophecy, “Out of Sion shall go forth the law, 
+and the word of the Lord out of Jerusalem;”194 and the prediction of the 
+Lord Christ Himself, when, after the resurrection, “He opened the 
+understanding” of His amazed disciples “that they might understand the 
+Scriptures, and said unto them that thus it is written, and thus it 
+behoved Christ to suffer, and to rise from the dead the third day, and 
+that repentance and remission of sins should be preached in His name 
+among all nations, beginning at Jerusalem.”195 And again, when, in 
+reply to their questioning about the day of His last coming, He said, “It 
+is not for you to know the times or the seasons which the Father hath 
+put in His own power; but ye shall receive the power of the Holy Ghost 
+coming upon you, and ye shall be witnesses unto me both in Jerusalem, 
+and in all Judea, and Samaria, and even unto the ends of the earth.”106 
+First of all, the Church spread herself abroad from Jerusalem; and when 
+very many in Judea and Samaria had believed, she also went into other 
+nations by those who announced the gospel, whom, as lights, He Himself 
+had both prepared by His word and kindled by His Holy Spirit. For He 
+had said to them, “Fear ye not them which kill the body, but are not able 
+to kill the soul.”!07 And that they might not be frozen with fear, they 
+burned with the fire of charity. Finally, the gospel of Christ was 
+preached in the whole world, not only by those who had seen and heard 
+Him both before His passion and after His resurrection, but also after 
+their death by their successors, amid the horrible persecutions, diverse 
+torments and deaths of the martyrs, God also bearing them witness, both 
+with signs and wonders, and divers miracles and gifts of the Holy 
+Ghost,!08 that the people of the nations, believing in Him who was 
+crucified for their redemption, might venerate with Christian love the 
+blood of the martyrs which they had poured forth with devilish fury, and 
+the very kings by whose laws the Church had been laid waste might 
+become profitably subject to that name they had cruelly striven to take 
+away from the earth, and might begin to persecute the false gods for 
+whose sake the worshippers of the true God had formerly been 
+persecuted. 
+
+
+51. That the catholic faith may be confirmed even by the dissensions of the heretics 
+
+
+But the devil, seeing the temples of the demons deserted, and the 
+
+
+human race running to the name of the liberating Mediator, has moved 
+the heretics under the Christian name to resist the Christian doctrine, as 
+if they could be kept in the city of God indifferently without any 
+correction, just as the city of confusion indifferently held the 
+philosophers who were of diverse and adverse opinions. Those, 
+therefore, in the Church of Christ who savour anything morbid and 
+depraved, and, on being corrected that they may savour what is 
+wholesome and right, contumaciously resist, and will not amend their 
+pestiferous and deadly dogmas, but persist in defending them, become 
+heretics, and, going without, are to be reckoned as enemies who serve 
+for her discipline. For even thus they profit by their wickedness those 
+true catholic members of Christ, since God makes a good use even of the 
+wicked, and all things work together for good to them that love Him.109 
+For all the enemies of the Church, whatever error blinds or malice 
+depraves them, exercise her patience if they receive the power to afflict 
+her corporally; and if they only oppose her by wicked thought, they 
+exercise her wisdom: but at the same time, if these enemies are loved, 
+they exercise her benevolence, or even her beneficence, whether she 
+deals with them by persuasive doctrine or by terrible discipline. And 
+thus the devil, the prince of the impious city, when he stirs up his own 
+vessels against the city of God that sojourns in this world, is permitted to 
+do her no harm. For without doubt the divine providence procures for 
+her both consolation through prosperity, that she may not be broken by 
+adversity, and trial through adversity, that she may not be corrupted by 
+prosperity; and thus each is tempered by the other, as we recognise in 
+the Psalms that voice which arises from no other cause, “According to 
+the multitude of my griefs in my heart, Thy consolations have delighted 
+my soul.”!10 Hence also is that saying of the apostle, “Rejoicing in hope, 
+patient in tribulation.”!11 
+
+For it is not to be thought that what the same teacher says can at any 
+time fail, “Whoever will live piously in Christ shall suffer 
+persecution.”1!12 Because even when those who are without do not rage, 
+and thus there seems to be, and really is, tranquillity, which brings very 
+much consolation, especially to the weak, yet there are not wanting, yea, 
+there are many within who by their abandoned manners torment the 
+hearts of those who live piously, since by them the Christian and 
+catholic name is blasphemed; and the dearer that name is to those who 
+
+
+will live piously in Christ, the more do they grieve that through the 
+wicked, who have a place within, it comes to be less loved than pious 
+minds desire. The heretics themselves also, since they are thought to 
+have the Christian name and sacraments, Scriptures, and profession, 
+cause great grief in the hearts of the pious, both because many who wish 
+to be Christians are compelled by their dissensions to hesitate, and many 
+evil-speakers also find in them matter for blaspheming the Christian 
+name, because they too are at any rate called Christians. By these and 
+similar depraved manners and errors of men, those who will live piously 
+in Christ suffer persecution, even when no one molests or vexes their 
+body; for they suffer this persecution, not in their bodies, but in their 
+hearts. Whence is that word, “According to the multitude of my griefs in 
+my heart;” for he does not say, in my body. Yet, on the other hand, none 
+of them can perish, because the immutable divine promises are thought 
+of. And because the apostle says, “The Lord knoweth them that are 
+His;113 for whom He did foreknow, He also predestinated [to be] 
+conformed to the image of His Son,”!!4 none of them can perish; 
+therefore it follows in that psalm, “Thy consolations have delighted my 
+soul.”115 But that grief which arises in the hearts of the pious, who are 
+persecuted by the manners of bad or false Christians, is profitable to the 
+sufferers, because it proceeds from the charity in which they do not wish 
+them either to perish or to hinder the salvation of others. Finally, great 
+consolations grow out of their chastisement, which imbue the souls of 
+the pious with a fecundity as great as the pains with which they were 
+troubled concerning their own perdition. Thus in this world, in these evil 
+days, not only from the time of the bodily presence of Christ and His 
+apostles, but even from that of Abel, whom first his wicked brother slew 
+because he was righteous,!16 and thenceforth even to the end of this 
+world, the Church has gone forward on pilgrimage amid the 
+persecutions of the world and the consolations of God. 
+
+
+52. Whether we should believe what some think, that, as the ten persecutions which are past have 
+been fulfilled, there remains no other beyond the eleventh, which must happen in the very time 
+of Antichrist 
+
+
+I do not think, indeed, that what some have thought or may think is 
+rashly said or believed, that until the time of Antichrist the Church of 
+Christ is not to suffer any persecutions besides those she has already 
+
+
+suffered—that is, ten—and that the eleventh and last shall be inflicted by 
+Antichrist. They reckon as the first that made by Nero, the second by 
+Domitian, the third by Trajan, the fourth by Antoninus, the fifth by 
+Severus, the sixth by Maximin, the seventh by Decius, the eighth by 
+Valerian, the ninth by Aurelian, the tenth by Diocletian and Maximian. 
+For as there were ten plagues in Egypt before the people of God could 
+begin to go out, they think this is to be referred to as showing that the 
+last persecution by Antichrist must be like the eleventh plague, in which 
+the Egyptians, while following the Hebrews with hostility, perished in 
+the Red Sea when the people of God passed through on dry land. Yet I 
+do not think persecutions were prophetically signified by what was done 
+in Egypt, however nicely and ingeniously those who think so may seem 
+to have compared the two in detail, not by the prophetic Spirit, but by 
+the conjecture of the human mind, which sometimes hits the truth, and 
+sometimes is deceived. But what can those who think this say of the 
+persecution in which the Lord Himself was crucified? In which number 
+will they put it? And if they think the reckoning is to be made exclusive 
+of this one, as if those must be counted which pertain to the body, and 
+not that in which the Head Himself was set upon and slain, what can 
+they make of that one which, after Christ ascended into heaven, took 
+place in Jerusalem, when the blessed Stephen was stoned; when James 
+the brother of John was slaughtered with the sword; when the Apostle 
+Peter was imprisoned to be killed, and was set free by the angel; when 
+the brethren were driven away and scattered from Jerusalem; when 
+Saul, who afterward became the Apostle Paul, wasted the Church; and 
+when he himself, publishing the glad tidings of the faith he had 
+persecuted, suffered such things as he had inflicted, either from the Jews 
+or from other nations, where he most fervently preached Christ 
+everywhere? Why, then, do they think fit to start with Nero, when the 
+Church in her growth had reached the times of Nero amid the most cruel 
+persecutions, about which it would be too long to say anything? But if 
+they think that only the persecutions made by kings ought to be 
+reckoned, it was king Herod who also made a most grievous one after 
+the ascension of the Lord. And what account do they give of Julian, 
+whom they do not number in the ten? Did not he persecute the Church, 
+who forbade the Christians to teach or learn liberal letters? Under him, 
+the elder Valentinian, who was the third emperor after him, stood forth 
+
+
+as a confessor of the Christian faith, and was dismissed from his 
+command in the army. I shall say nothing of what he did at Antioch, 
+except to mention his being struck with wonder at the freedom and 
+cheerfulness of one most faithful and stedfast young man, who, when 
+many were seized to be tortured, was tortured during a whole day, and 
+sang under the instrument of torture, until the emperor feared lest he 
+should succumb under the continued cruelties and put him to shame at 
+last, which made him dread and fear that he would be yet more 
+dishonourably put to the blush by the rest. Lastly, within our own 
+recollection, did not Valens the Arian, brother of the foresaid 
+Valentinian, waste the catholic Church by great persecution throughout 
+the East? But how unreasonable it is not to consider that the Church, 
+which bears fruit and grows through the whole world, may suffer 
+persecution from kings in some nations even when she does not suffer it 
+in others! Perhaps, however, it was not to be reckoned a persecution 
+when the king of the Goths, in Gothia itself, persecuted the Christians 
+with wonderful cruelty, when there were none but catholics there, of 
+whom very many were crowned with martyrdom, as we have heard from 
+certain brethren who had been there at that time as boys, and 
+unhesitatingly called to mind that they had seen these things? And what 
+took place in Persia of late? Was not persecution so hot against the 
+Christians (if even yet it is allayed) that some of the fugitives from it 
+came even to Roman towns? When I think of these and the like things, it 
+does not seem to me that the number of persecutions with which the 
+Church is to be tried can be definitely stated. But, on the other hand, it 
+is no less rash to affirm that there will be some persecutions by kings 
+besides that last one, about which no Christian is in doubt. Therefore we 
+leave this undecided, supporting or refuting neither side of this question, 
+but only restraining men from the audacious presumption of affirming 
+either of them. 
+
+
+53. Of the hidden time of the final persecution 
+
+
+Truly Jesus Himself shall extinguish by His presence that last 
+persecution which is to be made by Antichrist. For so it is written, that 
+“He shall slay him with breath of His mouth, and empty him with the 
+brightness of His presence.”!17 It is customary to ask, When shall that 
+be? But this is quite unreasonable. For had it been profitable for us to 
+
+
+know this, by whom could it better have been told than by God Himself, 
+the Master, when the disciples questioned Him? For they were not silent 
+when with Him, but inquired of Him, saying, “Lord, wilt Thou at this 
+time present the kingdom to Israel, or when?”!18 But He said, “It is not 
+for you to know the times, which the Father hath put in His own power.” 
+When they got that answer, they had not at all questioned Him about the 
+hour, or day, or year, but about the time. In vain, then, do we attempt to 
+compute definitely the years that may remain to this world, when we 
+may hear from the mouth of the Truth that it is not for us to know this. 
+Yet some have said that four hundred, some five hundred, others a 
+thousand years, may be completed from the ascension of the Lord up to 
+His final coming. But to point out how each of them supports his own 
+opinion would take too long, and is not necessary; for indeed they use 
+human conjectures, and bring forward nothing certain from the 
+authority of the canonical Scriptures. But on this subject He puts aside 
+the figures of the calculators, and orders silence, who says, “It is not for 
+you to know the times, which the Father hath put in His own power.” 
+But because this sentence is in the Gospel, it is no wonder that the 
+worshippers of the many and false gods have been none the less 
+restrained from feigning that by the responses of the demons, whom 
+they worship as gods, it has been fixed how long the Christian religion is 
+to last. For when they saw that it could not be consumed by so many 
+and great persecutions, but rather drew from them wonderful 
+enlargements, they invented I know not what Greek verses, as if poured 
+forth by a divine oracle to some one consulting it, in which, indeed, they 
+make Christ innocent of this, as it were, sacrilegious crime, but add that 
+Peter by enchantments brought it about that the name of Christ should 
+be worshipped for three hundred and sixty-five years, and, after the 
+completion of that number of years, should at once take end. Oh the 
+hearts of learned men! Oh, learned wits, meet to believe such things 
+about Christ as you are not willing to believe in Christ, that His disciple 
+Peter did not learn magic arts from Him, yet that, although He was 
+innocent, His disciple was an enchanter, and chose that His name rather 
+than his own should be worshipped through his magic arts, his great 
+labours and perils, and at last even the shedding of his blood! If Peter 
+the enchanter made the world so love Christ, what did Christ the 
+innocent do to make Peter so love Him? Let them answer themselves 
+
+
+then, and, if they can, let them understand that the world, for the sake of 
+eternal life, was made to love Christ by that same supernal grace which 
+made Peter also love Christ for the sake of the eternal life to be received 
+from Him, and that even to the extent of suffering temporal death for 
+Him. And then, what kind of gods are these who are able to predict such 
+things, yet are not able to avert them, succumbing in such a way to a 
+single enchanter and wicked magician (who, as they say, having slain a 
+yearling boy and torn him to pieces, buried him with nefarious rites), 
+that they permitted the sect hostile to themselves to gain strength for so 
+great a time, and to surmount the horrid cruelties of so many great 
+persecutions, not by resisting but by suffering, and to procure the 
+overthrow of their own images, temples, rituals, and oracles? Finally, 
+what god was it—not ours, certainly, but one of their own—who was 
+either enticed or compelled by so great wickedness to perform these 
+things? For those verses say that Peter bound, not any demon, but a god 
+to do these things. Such a god have they who have not Christ. 
+
+
+54. Of the very foolish lie of the pagans, in feigning that the Christian religion was not to last 
+beyond three hundred and sixty-five years 
+
+
+I might collect these and many similar arguments, if that year had not 
+already passed by which lying divination has promised, and deceived 
+vanity has believed. But as a few years ago three hundred and sixty-five 
+years were completed since the time when the worship of the name of 
+Christ was established by His presence in the flesh, and by the apostles, 
+what other proof need we seek to refute that falsehood? For, not to place 
+the beginning of this period at the nativity of Christ, because as an infant 
+and boy He had no disciples, yet, when He began to have them, beyond 
+doubt the Christian doctrine and religion then became known through 
+His bodily presence, that is, after He was baptized in the river Jordan by 
+the ministry of John. For on this account that prophecy went before 
+concerning Him: “He shall reign from sea even to sea, and from the river 
+even to the ends of the earth.”119 But since, before He suffered and rose 
+from the dead, the faith had not yet been defined to all, but was defined 
+in the resurrection of Christ (for so the Apostle Paul speaks to the 
+Athenians, saying, “But now 
+
+He announces to men that all everywhere should repent, because He 
+hath appointed a day in which to judge the world in equity, by the Man 
+
+
+in whom He hath defined the faith to all men, raising Him from the 
+dead”!20), it is better that, in settling this question, we should start from 
+that point, especially because the Holy Spirit was then given, just as He 
+behoved to be given after the resurrection of Christ in that city from 
+which the second law, that is, the new testament, ought to begin. For the 
+first, which is called the old testament, was given from Mount Sinai 
+through Moses. But concerning this which was to be given by Christ it 
+was predicted, “Out of Sion shall go forth the law, and the word of the 
+Lord out of Jerusalem;”!21 whence He Himself said, that repentance in 
+His name behoved to be preached among all nations, but yet beginning 
+at Jerusalem.122 There, therefore, the worship of this name took its rise, 
+that Jesus should be believed in, who died and rose again. There his 
+faith blazed up with such noble beginnings, that several thousand men, 
+being converted to the name of Christ with wonderful alacrity, sold their 
+goods for distribution among the needy, thus, by a holy resolution and 
+most ardent charity, coming to voluntary poverty, and prepared 
+themselves, amid the Jews who raged and thirsted for their blood, to 
+contend for the truth even to death, not with armed power, but with 
+more powerful patience. If this was accomplished by no magic arts, why 
+do they hesitate to believe that the other could be done throughout the 
+whole world by the same divine power by which this was done? But 
+supposing Peter wrought that enchantment so that so great a multitude 
+of men at Jerusalem was thus kindled to worship the name of Christ, 
+who had either seized and fastened Him to the cross, or reviled Him 
+when fastened there, we must still inquire when the three hundred and 
+sixty-five years must be completed, counting from that year. Now Christ 
+died when the Gemini were consuls, on the eighth day before the 
+kalends of April. He rose the third day, as the apostles have proved by 
+the evidence of their own senses. Then forty days after, He ascended into 
+Heaven. Ten days after, that is, on the fiftieth after His resurrection, He 
+sent the Holy Spirit; then three thousand men believed when the 
+apostles preached Him. Then, therefore, arose the worship of that name, 
+as we believe, and according to the real truth, by the efficacy of the Holy 
+Spirit, but, as impious vanity has feigned or thought, by the magic arts 
+of Peter. A little afterward, too, on a wonderful sign being wrought, 
+when at Peter’s own word a certain beggar, so lame from his mother’s 
+womb that he was carried by others and laid down at the gate of the 
+
+
+temple, where he begged alms, was made whole in the name of Jesus 
+Christ, and leaped up, five thousand men believed, and thenceforth the 
+Church grew by sundry accessions of believers. Thus we gather the very 
+day with which that year began, namely, that on which the Holy Spirit 
+was sent, that is, during the ides of May. And, on counting the consuls, 
+the three hundred and sixty-five years are found completed on the same 
+ides in the consulate of Honorius and Eutychianus. Now, in the following 
+year, in the consulate of Mallius Theodoras, when, according to that 
+oracle of the demons or figment of men, there ought already to have 
+been no Christian religion, it was not necessary to inquire what 
+perchance was done in other parts of the earth. But, as we know, in the 
+most noted and eminent city Carthage, in Africa, Gaudentius and Jovius, 
+officers of the Emperor Honorius, on the fourteenth day before the 
+kalends of April, overthrew the temples and broke the images of the 
+false gods. And from that time to the present, during almost thirty years, 
+who does not see how much the worship of the name of Christ has 
+increased, especially after many of those became Christians who had 
+been kept back from the faith by thinking that divination true, but saw 
+when that same number of years was completed that it was empty and 
+ridiculous? We, therefore, who are called and are Christians, do not 
+believe in Peter, but in Him whom Peter believed—being edified by 
+Peter’s sermons about Christ, not poisoned by his incantations; and not 
+deceived by his enchantments, but aided by his good deeds. Christ 
+Himself, who was Peter’s Master in the doctrine which leads to eternal 
+life, is our Master too. 
+
+But let us now at last finish this book, after thus far treating of, and 
+showing as far as seemed sufficient, what is the mortal course of the two 
+cities, the heavenly and the earthly, which are mingled together from 
+the beginning down to the end. Of these, the earthly one has made to 
+herself of whom she would, either from any other quarter, or even from 
+among men, false gods whom she might serve by sacrifice; but she which 
+is heavenly, and is a pilgrim on the earth, does not make false gods, but 
+is herself made by the true God, of whom she herself must be the true 
+sacrifice. Yet both alike either enjoy temporal good things, or are 
+afflicted with temporal evils, but with diverse faith, diverse hope, and 
+diverse love, until they must be separated by the last judgment, and each 
+must receive her own end, of which there is no end. About these ends of 
+
+
+both we must next treat. 
+
+1 Sallust, Bell. Cat. c. 8. 
+
+2 In the Hebrew text, Gen. xxv. 7, a hundred and seventy-five years. 
+3 Gen. xlix. 10. 
+
+4 Aone and zvyog, 
+
+2 1 Cor. xv. 46, 47. 
+
+6 The priests who officiated at the Lupercalis. 
+
+7 AAneid, viii. 321. 
+
+8 Isa. xlviii. 20. 
+
+9 Virgil, Eclogue, viii. 70. 
+
+10 Virgil, Eclogue, v. 11. 
+
+11 Varro, De Lingua Latina, v. 43. 
+
+12 Æneid, vi. 767. 
+
+13 Hos. i. 1. 
+
+14 Amos. i. 1. 
+
+15 Isa. i. 1. Isaiah’s father was Amoz, a different name. 
+16 Mic. i. 1. 
+
+17 The chronicles of Eusebius and Jerome. 
+
+18 Hos. i. 10. 
+
+19 Hos. i. 11. 
+
+20 Gal. ii. 14-20. 
+
+21 Hos. iii. 4. 
+
+22 Hos. iii 5. 
+
+23 Rom. i. 3. 
+
+24 Hos. vi. 2. 
+
+25 Col. iii. 1. 
+
+26 Amos iv. 12, 13. 
+
+27 Amos ix. 11, 12; Acts xv. 15-17. 
+
+28 Isa. lii. 13-liii. 13. Augustine quotes these passages in full. 
+29 Isa. liv. 1-5. 
+
+
+30 Mic. iv. 1-3. 
+
+
+31 Mic. v. 2-4. 
+
+32 Joel ii. 28, 29. 
+33 Obad. 17. 
+
+34 Obad. 21. 
+
+35 Col. i. 13. 
+
+36 Nah. i. 14 ii. 1. 
+37 Hab. ii. 2, 3. 
+38 Hab. iii. 2. 
+
+39 Luke xxiii. 34. 
+40 Hab. iii. 3. 
+
+41 Ps. lvii. 5, 11 
+42 Hab. iii. 4. 
+
+43 John iii. 17. 
+
+44 Joel ii. 13. 
+
+45 Matt. v. 4. 
+
+46 Matt. x. 27. 
+
+47 Ps. cxvi. 16. 
+
+48 Rom. xii. 12. 
+49 Heb. xi. 13, 16. 
+50 Rom. x. 3. 
+
+51 Ps, xl. 2, 3. 
+
+52 Jer. ix. 23, 24, as in 1 Cor. i. 31. 
+53 Lam. iv. 20. 
+
+54 Bar. iii. 35-37. 
+55 Jer. xxiii. 5, 6. 
+56 Jer. xvi. 19. 
+
+57 Jer. xvii. 9. 
+
+58 Jer. xxxi. 31; see Bk. xvii. 3. 
+59 Zeph. iii. 8. 
+
+60 Zeph. ii. 11. 
+
+61 Zeph. iii. 9-12. 
+
+
+62 Isa. x. 22; Rom. ix. 27. 
+
+63 Dan. vii. 13, 14. 
+
+64 Ezek. xxxiv. 23. 
+
+65 Ezek. xxxvii. 22-24. 
+
+66 Hag. ii. 6. 
+
+67 Zech. ix. 9, 10. 
+
+68 Zech. ix. 11. 
+
+69 Ps, xl. 2. 
+
+70 Mal. i. 10, 11. 
+
+71 Mal. ii. 5-7. 
+
+72 Mal. iii. 1, 2. 
+
+73 John ii. 19. 
+
+74 Mal. iii. 13-16. 
+
+75 Mal. iii. 17-iv. 3. 
+
+76 Esdras iii. and iv. 
+
+77 Acts. vii. 22. 
+
+78 Heb. xi. 7; 1 Pet. iii. 20, 21. 
+
+79 Jude 14. 
+
+80 Fx. xx. 12. 
+
+81 Ex. xx. 13-15, the order as in Mark x. 19. 
+82 Var. reading, “both in Greek and Latin.” 
+83 Jon. iii. 4. 
+
+84 Hag. ii. 9. 
+
+85 Hag. ii. 7. 
+
+86 Matt. xxii. 14. 
+
+87 Gen. xlix. 10. 
+
+88 Isa. vii. 14, as in Matt. i. 23. 
+
+89 Isa. x. 22, as in Rom. ix. 27, 28. 
+90 Ps, Ixix. 22, 23; Rom. xi. 9, 10. 
+91 Ps. Ixix 10, 11. 
+
+
+92 Rom. xi. 11. 
+
+
+93 1 Tim. ii. 5. 
+
+94 Hag. ii. 9. 
+
+95 Hag. ii. 9. 
+
+96 1 Cor. x. 4; Ex. xvii. 6. 
+97 Hag. ii. 7. 
+
+98 Eph. i. 4. 
+
+99 Matt. xxii. 11-14. 
+100 Matt. xiii. 47-50. 
+101 Ps, xl. 5. 
+
+102 Matt. iii. 2, iv. 17. 
+103 Luke vi. 13. 
+
+104 Tsa. ii. 3. 
+
+105 Luke xxiv. 45—47. 
+106 Acts i. 7, 8. 
+
+107 Matt. x. 28. 
+
+108 Heb. li. 4. 
+
+109 Rom. viii. 28. 
+
+110 Ps, xciv. 19. 
+
+111 Rom. xii. 12. 
+
+112 2 Tim. iii. 12. 
+
+113 2 Tim. ii. 19. 
+
+114 Rom. viii. 29. 
+
+115 Ps, xciv. 19. 
+
+116 1 John iii. 12. 
+
+117 Isa. xi. 4; 2 Thess. i. 9. 
+118 Acts i. 6, 7. 
+
+119 Ps, lxxii. 8. 
+
+120 Acts xvii. 30, 31. 
+121 Iga, ii. 3. 
+
+
+122 Luke xxiv. 47. 
+
+
+BOOK NINETEENTH 
+
+
+ARGUMENT. 
+
+
+IN THIS BOOK THE END OF THE TWO CITIES, THE EARTHLY AND THE HEAVENLY, IS DISCUSSED. 
+AUGUSTINE REVIEWS THE OPINIONS OF THE PHILOSOPHERS REGARDING THE SUPREME GOOD, AND 
+THEIR VAIN EFFORTS TO MAKE FOR THEMSELVES A HAPPINESS IN THIS LIFE; AND, WHILE HE REFUTES 
+THESE, HE TAKES OCCASION TO SHOW WHAT THE PEACE AND HAPPINESS BELONGING TO THE HEAVENLY 
+
+
+CITY, OR THE PEOPLE OF CHRIST, ARE BOTH NOW AND HEREAFTER. 
+
+
+1. That Varro has made out that two hundred and eighty-eight different sects of philosophy might 
+
+
+be formed by the various opinions regarding the supreme good 
+
+
+A: I see that I have still to discuss the fit destinies of the two cities, 
+the earthly and the heavenly, must first explain, so far as the limits 
+of this work allow me, the reasonings by which men have attempted to 
+make for themselves a happiness in this unhappy life, in order that it 
+may be evident, not only from divine authority, but also from such 
+reasons as can be adduced to unbelievers, how the empty dreams of the 
+philosophers differ from the hope which God gives to us, and from the 
+substantial fulfilment of it which He will give us as our blessedness. 
+Philosophers have expressed a great variety of diverse opinions 
+regarding the ends of goods and of evils, and this question they have 
+eagerly canvassed, that they might, if possible, discover what makes a 
+man happy. For the end of our good is that for the sake of which other 
+things are to be desired, while it is to be desired for its own sake; and 
+the end of evil is that on account of which other things are to be 
+shunned, while it is avoided on its own account. Thus, by the end of 
+good, we at present mean, not that by which good is destroyed, so that it 
+no longer exists, but that by which it is finished, so that it becomes 
+complete; and by the end of evil we mean, not that which abolishes it, 
+but that which completes its development. These two ends, therefore, 
+are the supreme good and the supreme evil; and, as I have said, those 
+who have in this vain life professed the study of wisdom have been at 
+great pains to discover these ends, and to obtain the supreme good and 
+
+
+avoid the supreme evil in this life. And although they erred in a variety 
+of ways, yet natural insight has prevented them from wandering from 
+the truth so far that they have not placed the supreme good and evil, 
+some in the soul, some in the body, and some in both. From this 
+tripartite distribution of the sects of philosophy, Marcus Varro, in his 
+book De Philosophia,! has drawn so large a variety of opinions, that, by a 
+subtle and minute analysis of distinctions, he numbers without difficulty 
+as many as 288 sects—not that these have actually existed, but sects 
+which are possible. 
+
+To illustrate briefly what he means, I must begin with his own 
+introductory statement in the above-mentioned book, that there are four 
+things which men desire, as it were by nature without a master, without 
+the help of any instruction, without industry or the art of living which is 
+called virtue, and which is certainly learned:2 either pleasure, which is 
+an agreeable stirring of the bodily sense; or repose, which excludes every 
+bodily inconvenience; or both these, which Epicurus calls by the one 
+name, pleasure; or the primary objects of nature,? which comprehend 
+the things already named and other things, either bodily, such as health, 
+and safety, and integrity of the members, or spiritual, such as the greater 
+and less mental gifts that are found in men. Now these four things— 
+pleasure, repose, the two combined, and the primary objects of nature— 
+exist in us in such sort that we must either desire virtue on their 
+account, or them for the sake of virtue, or both for their own sake; and 
+consequently there arise from this distinction twelve sects, for each is by 
+this consideration tripled. I will illustrate this in one instance, and, 
+having done so, it will not be difficult to understand the others. 
+According, then, as bodily pleasure is subjected, preferred, or united to 
+virtue, there are three sects. It is subjected to virtue when it is chosen as 
+subservient to virtue. Thus it is a duty of virtue to live for one’s country, 
+and for its sake to beget children, neither of which can be done without 
+bodily pleasure. For there is pleasure in eating and drinking, pleasure 
+also in sexual intercourse. But when it is preferred to virtue, it is desired 
+for its own sake, and virtue is chosen only for its sake, and to effect 
+nothing else than the attainment or preservation of bodily pleasure. And 
+this, indeed, is to make life hideous; for where virtue is the slave of 
+pleasure it no longer deserves the name of virtue. Yet even this 
+disgraceful distortion has found some philosophers to patronize and 
+
+
+defend it. Then virtue is united to pleasure when neither is desired for 
+the other’s sake, but both for their own. And therefore, as pleasure, 
+according as it is subjected, preferred, or united to virtue, makes three 
+sects, so also do repose, pleasure and repose combined, and the prime 
+natural blessings, make their three sects each. For as men’s opinions 
+vary, and these four things are sometimes subjected, sometimes 
+preferred, and sometimes united to virtue, there are produced twelve 
+sects. But this number again is doubled by the addition of one difference, 
+viz. the social life; for whoever attaches himself to any of these sects 
+does so either for his own sake alone, or for the sake of a companion, for 
+whom he ought to wish what he desires for himself. And thus there will 
+be twelve of those who think some one of these opinions should be held 
+for their own sakes, and other twelve who decide that they ought to 
+follow this or that philosophy not for their own sakes only, but also for 
+the sake of others whose good they desire as their own. These twenty- 
+four sects again are doubled, and become forty-eight by adding a 
+difference taken from the New Academy. For each of these four and 
+twenty sects can hold and defend their opinion as certain, as the Stoics 
+defended the position that the supreme good of man consisted solely in 
+virtue; or they can be held as probable, but not certain, as the New 
+Academics did. There are, therefore, twenty-four who hold their 
+philosophy as certainly true, other twenty-four who hold their opinions 
+as probable, but not certain. Again, as each person who attaches himself 
+to any of these sects may adopt the mode of life either of the Cynics or 
+of the other philosophers, this distinction will double the number, and so 
+make ninety-six sects. Then, lastly, as each of these sects may be adhered 
+to either by men who love a life of ease, as those who have through 
+choice or necessity addicted themselves to study, or by men who love a 
+busy life, as those who, while philosophizing, have been much occupied 
+with state affairs and public business, or by men who choose a mixed 
+life, in imitation of those who have apportioned their time partly to 
+erudite leisure, partly to necessary business: by these differences the 
+number of the sects is tripled, and becomes 288. 
+
+I have thus, as briefly and lucidly as I could, given in my own words 
+the opinions which Varro expresses in his book. But how he refutes all 
+the rest of these sects, and chooses one, the Old Academy, instituted by 
+Plato, and continuing to Polemo, the fourth teacher of that school of 
+
+
+philosophy which held that their system was certain; and how on this 
+ground he distinguishes it from the New Academy,* which began with 
+Polemo’s successor Arcesilaus, and held that all things are uncertain; and 
+how he seeks to establish that the Old Academy was as free from error as 
+from doubt—all this, I say, were too long to enter upon in detail, and yet 
+I must not altogether pass it by in silence. Varro then rejects, as a first 
+step, all those differences which have multiplied the number of sects; 
+and the ground on which he does so is that they are not differences 
+about the supreme good. He maintains that in philosophy a sect is 
+created only by its having an opinion of its own different from other 
+schools on the point of the ends-in-chief. For man has no other reason 
+for philosophizing than that he may be happy; but that which makes him 
+happy is itself the supreme good. In other words, the supreme good is 
+the reason of philosophizing; and therefore that cannot be called a sect 
+of philosophy which pursues no way of its own towards the supreme 
+good. Thus, when it is asked whether a wise man will adopt the social 
+life, and desire and be interested in the supreme good of his friend as in 
+his own, or will, on the contrary, do all that he does merely for his own 
+sake, there is no question here about the supreme good, but only about 
+the propriety of associating or not associating a friend in its 
+participation: whether the wise man will do this not for his own sake, 
+but for the sake of his friend in whose good he delights as in his own. So, 
+too, when it is asked whether all things about which philosophy is 
+concerned are to be considered uncertain, as by the New Academy, or 
+certain, as the other philosophers maintain, the question here is not 
+what end should be pursued, but whether or not we are to believe in the 
+substantial existence of that end; or, to put it more plainly, whether he 
+who pursues the supreme good must maintain that it is a true good, or 
+only that it appears to him to be true, though possibly it may be delusive 
+—both pursuing one and the same good. The distinction, too, which is 
+founded on the dress and manners of the Cynics, does not touch the 
+question of the chief good, but only the question whether he who 
+pursues that good which seems to himself true should live as do the 
+Cynics. There were, in fact, men who, though they pursued different 
+things as the supreme good, some choosing pleasure, others virtue, yet 
+adopted that mode of life which gave the Cynics their name. Thus, 
+whatever it is which distinguishes the Cynics from other philosophers, 
+
+
+this has no bearing on the choice and pursuit of that good which 
+constitutes happiness. For if it had any such bearing, then the same 
+habits of life would necessitate the pursuit of the same chief good, and 
+diverse habits would necessitate the pursuit of different ends. 
+
+
+2. How Varro, by removing all the differences which do not form sects, but are merely secondary 
+
+
+questions, reaches three definitions of the chief good, of which we must choose one 
+
+
+The same may be said of those three kinds of life, the life of studious 
+leisure and search after truth, the life of easy engagement in affairs, and 
+the life in which both these are mingled. When it is asked, which of 
+these should be adopted, this involves no controversy about the end of 
+good, but inquires which of these three puts a man in the best position 
+for finding and retaining the supreme good. For this good, as soon as a 
+man finds it, makes him happy; but lettered leisure, or public business, 
+or the alternation of these, do not necessarily constitute happiness. 
+Many, in fact, find it possible to adopt one or other of these modes of 
+life, and yet to miss what makes a man happy. The question, therefore, 
+regarding the supreme good and the supreme evil, and which 
+distinguishes sects of philosophy, is one; and these questions concerning 
+the social life, the doubt of the Academy, the dress and food of the 
+Cynics, the three modes of life—the active, the contemplative, and the 
+mixed—these are different questions, into none of which the question of 
+the chief good enters. And therefore, as Marcus Varro multiplied the 
+sects to the number of 288 (or whatever larger number he chose) by 
+introducing these four differences derived from the social life, the New 
+Academy, the Cynics, and the threefold form of life, so, by removing 
+these differences as having no bearing on the supreme good, and as 
+therefore not constituting what can properly be called sects, he returns 
+to those twelve schools which concern themselves with inquiring what 
+that good is which makes man happy, and he shows that one of these is 
+true, the rest false. In other words, he dismisses the distinction founded 
+on the threefold mode of life, and so decreases the whole number by 
+two-thirds, reducing the sects to ninety-six. Then, putting aside the Cynic 
+peculiarities, the number decreases by a half, to forty-eight. Taking away 
+next the distinction occasioned by the hesitancy of the New Academy, 
+the number is again halved, and reduced to twenty-four. Treating in a 
+similar way the diversity introduced by the consideration of the social 
+
+
+life, there are left but twelve, which this difference had doubled to 
+twenty-four. Regarding these twelve, no reason can be assigned why 
+they should not be called sects. For in them the sole inquiry is regarding 
+the supreme good and the ultimate evil—that is to say, regarding the 
+supreme good, for this being found, the opposite evil is thereby found. 
+Now, to make these twelve sects, he multiplies by three these four things 
+—pleasure, repose, pleasure and repose combined, and the primary 
+objects of nature which Varro calls primigenia. For as these four things 
+are sometimes subordinated to virtue, so that they seem to be desired 
+not for their own sake, but for virtue’s sake; sometimes preferred to it, so 
+that virtue seems to be necessary not on its own account, but in order to 
+attain these things; sometimes joined with it, so that both they and 
+virtue are desired for their own sakes—we must multiply the four by 
+three, and thus we get twelve sects. But from those four things Varro 
+eliminates three—pleasure, repose, pleasure and repose combined—not 
+because he thinks these are not worthy of the place assigned them, but 
+because they are included in the primary objects of nature. And what 
+need is there, at any rate, to make a threefold division out of these two 
+ends, pleasure and repose, taking them first severally and then 
+conjunctly, since both they, and many other things besides, are 
+comprehended in the primary objects of nature? Which of the three 
+remaining sects must be chosen? This is the question that Varro dwells 
+upon. For whether one of these three or some other be chosen, reason 
+forbids that more than one be true. This we shall afterwards see; but 
+meanwhile let us explain as briefly and distinctly as we can how Varro 
+makes his selection from these three, that is, from the sects which 
+severally hold that the primary objects of nature are to be desired for 
+virtue’s sake, that virtue is to be desired for their sake, and that virtue 
+and these objects are to be desired each for their own sake. 
+
+
+3. Which of the three leading opinions regarding the chief good should be preferred, according to 
+Varro, who follows Antiochus and the Old Academy 
+
+
+Which of these three is true and to be adopted he attempts to show in 
+the following manner. As it is the supreme good, not of a tree, or of a 
+beast, or of a god, but of man, that philosophy is in quest of, he thinks 
+that, first of all, we must define man. He is of opinion that there are two 
+parts in human nature, body and soul, and makes no doubt that of these 
+
+
+two the soul is the better and by far the more worthy part. But whether 
+the soul alone is the man, so that the body holds the same relation to it 
+as a horse to the horseman, this he thinks has to be ascertained. The 
+horseman is not a horse and a man, but only a man, yet he is called a 
+horseman, because he is in some relation to the horse. Again, is the body 
+alone the man, having a relation to the soul such as the cup has to the 
+drink? For it is not the cup and the drink it contains which are called the 
+cup, but the cup alone; yet it is so called because it is made to hold the 
+drink. Or, lastly, is it neither the soul alone nor the body alone, but both 
+together, which are man, the body and the soul being each a part, but 
+the whole man being both together, as we call two horses yoked 
+together a pair, of which pair the near and the off horse is each a part, 
+but we do not call either of them, no matter how connected with the 
+other, a pair, but only both together? Of these three alternatives, then, 
+Varro chooses the third, that man is neither the body alone, nor the soul 
+alone, but both together. And therefore the highest good, in which lies 
+the happiness of man, is composed of goods of both kinds, both bodily 
+and spiritual. And consequently he thinks that the primary objects of 
+nature are to be sought for their own sake, and that virtue, which is the 
+art of living, and can be communicated by instruction, is the most 
+excellent of spiritual goods. This virtue, then, or art of regulating life, 
+when it has received these primary objects of nature which existed 
+independently of it, and prior to any instruction, seeks them all, and 
+itself also, for its own sake; and it uses them, as it also uses itself, that 
+from them all it may derive profit and enjoyment, greater or less, 
+according as they are themselves greater or less; and while it takes 
+pleasure in all of them, it despises the less that it may obtain or retain 
+the greater when occasion demands. Now, of all goods, spiritual or 
+bodily, there is none at all to compare with virtue. For virtue makes a 
+good use both of itself and of all other goods in which lies man’s 
+happiness; and where it is absent, no matter how many good things a 
+man has, they are not for his good, and consequently should not be 
+called good things while they belong to one who makes them useless by 
+using them badly. The life of man, then, is called happy when it enjoys 
+virtue and these other spiritual and bodily good things without which 
+virtue is impossible. It is called happier if it enjoys some or many other 
+good things which are not essential to virtue; and happiest of all, if it 
+
+
+lacks not one of the good things which pertain to the body and the soul. 
+For life is not the same thing as virtue, since not every life, but a wisely 
+regulated life, is virtue; and yet, while there can be life of some kind 
+without virtue, there cannot be virtue without life. This I might apply to 
+memory and reason, and such mental faculties; for these exist prior to 
+instruction, and without them there cannot be any instruction, and 
+consequently no virtue, since virtue is learned. But bodily advantages, 
+such as swiftness of foot, beauty, or strength, are not essential to virtue, 
+neither is virtue essential to them, and yet they are good things; and, 
+according to our philosophers, even these advantages are desired by 
+virtue for its own sake, and are used and enjoyed by it in a becoming 
+manner. 
+
+They say that this happy life is also social, and loves the advantages of 
+its friends as its own, and for their sake wishes for them what it desires 
+for itself, whether these friends live in the same family, as a wife, 
+children, domestics; or in the locality where one’s home is, as the 
+citizens of the same town; or in the world at large, as the nations bound 
+in common human brotherhood; or in the universe itself, comprehended 
+in the heavens and the earth, as those whom they call gods, and provide 
+as friends for the wise man, and whom we more familiarly call angels. 
+Moreover, they say that, regarding the supreme good and evil, there is 
+no room for doubt, and that they therefore differ from the New Academy 
+in this respect, and they are not concerned whether a philosopher 
+pursues those ends which they think true in the Cynic dress and manner 
+of life or in some other. And, lastly, in regard to the three modes of life, 
+the contemplative, the active, and the composite, they declare in favour 
+of the third. That these were the opinions and doctrines of the Old 
+Academy, Varro asserts on the authority of Antiochus, Cicero’s master 
+and his own, though Cicero makes him out to have been more frequently 
+in accordance with the Stoics than with the Old Academy. But of what 
+importance is this to us, who ought to judge the matter on its own 
+merits, rather than to understand accurately what different men have 
+thought about it? 
+
+
+4. What the Christians believe regarding the supreme good and evil, in opposition to the 
+
+
+philosophers, who have maintained that the supreme good is in themselves 
+
+
+If, then, we be asked what the city of God has to say upon these 
+
+
+points, and, in the first place, what its opinion regarding the supreme 
+good and evil is, it will reply that life eternal is the supreme good, death 
+eternal the supreme evil, and that to obtain the one and escape the other 
+we must live rightly. And thus it is written, “The just lives by faith,”5 for 
+we do not as yet see our good, and must therefore live by faith; neither 
+have we in ourselves power to live rightly, but can do so only if He who 
+has given us faith to believe in His help do help us when we believe and 
+pray. As for those who have supposed that the sovereign good and evil 
+are to be found in this life, and have placed it either in the soul or the 
+body, or in both, or, to speak more explicitly, either in pleasure or in 
+virtue, or in both; in repose or in virtue, or in both; in pleasure and 
+repose, or in virtue, or in all combined; in the primary objects of nature, 
+or in virtue, or in both—all these have, with a marvellous shallowness, 
+sought to find their blessedness in this life and in themselves. Contempt 
+has been poured upon such ideas by the Truth, saying by the prophet, 
+“The Lord knoweth the thoughts of men” (or, as the Apostle Paul cites 
+the passage, “The Lord knoweth the thoughts of the wise”) “that they are 
+vain.”6 
+
+For what flood of eloquence can suffice to detail the miseries of this 
+life? Cicero, in the Consolation on the death of his daughter, has spent all 
+his ability in lamentation; but how inadequate was even his ability here? 
+For when, where, how, in this life can these primary objects of nature be 
+possessed so that they may not be assailed by unforeseen accident? Is the 
+body of the wise man exempt from any pain which may dispel pleasure, 
+from any disquietude which may banish repose? The amputation or 
+decay of the members of the body puts an end to its integrity, deformity 
+blights its beauty, weakness its health, lassitude its vigour, sleepiness or 
+sluggishness its activity—and which of these is it that may not assail the 
+flesh of the wise man? Comely and fitting attitudes and movements of 
+the body are numbered among the prime natural blessings; but what if 
+some sickness makes the members tremble? what if a man suffers from 
+curvature of the spine to such an extent that his hands reach the ground, 
+and he goes upon all-fours like a quadruped? Does not this destroy all 
+beauty and grace in the body, whether at rest or in motion? What shall I 
+say of the fundamental blessings of the soul, sense and intellect, of 
+which the one is given for the perception, and the other for the 
+comprehension of truth? But what kind of sense is it that remains when 
+
+
+a man becomes deaf and blind? where are reason and intellect when 
+disease makes a man delirious? We can scarcely, or not at all, refrain 
+from tears, when we think of or see the actions and words of such frantic 
+persons, and consider how different from and even opposed to their own 
+sober judgment and ordinary conduct their present demeanour is. And 
+what shall I say of those who suffer from demoniacal possession? Where 
+is their own intelligence hidden and buried while the malignant spirit is 
+using their body and soul according to his own will? And who is quite 
+sure that no such thing can happen to the wise man in this life? Then, as 
+to the perception of truth, what can we hope for even in this way while 
+in the body, as we read in the true book of Wisdom, “The corruptible 
+body weigheth down the soul, and the earthly tabernacle presseth down 
+the mind that museth upon many things?”” And eagerness, or desire of 
+action, if this is the right meaning to put upon the Greek 4%, is also 
+reckoned among the primary advantages of nature; and yet is it not this 
+which produces those pitiable movements of the insane, and those 
+actions which we shudder to see, when sense is deceived and reason 
+deranged? 
+
+In fine, virtue itself, which is not among the primary objects of nature, 
+but succeeds to them as the result of learning, though it holds the 
+highest place among human good things, what is its occupation save to 
+wage perpetual war with vices—not those that are outside of us, but 
+within; not other men’s, but our own—a war which is waged especially 
+by that virtue which the Greeks call segposóvn and we temperance,® and 
+which bridles carnal lusts, and prevents them from winning the consent 
+of the spirit to wicked deeds? For we must not fancy that there is no vice 
+in us, when, as the apostle says, “The flesh lusteth against the spirit;”9 
+for to this vice there is a contrary virtue, when, as the same writer says, 
+“The spirit lusteth against the flesh.” “For these two,” he says, “are 
+contrary one to the other, so that you cannot do the things which you 
+would.” But what is it we wish to do when we seek to attain the supreme 
+good, unless that the flesh should cease to lust against the spirit, and 
+that there be no vice in us against which the spirit may lust? And as we 
+cannot attain to this in the present life, however ardently we desire it, 
+let us by God’s help accomplish at least this, to preserve the soul from 
+succumbing and yielding to the flesh that lusts against it, and to refuse 
+our consent to the perpetration of sin. Far be it from us, then, to fancy 
+
+
+that while we are still engaged in this intestine war, we have already 
+found the happiness which we seek to reach by victory. And who is there 
+so wise that he has no conflict at all to maintain against his vices? 
+
+What shall I say of that virtue which is called prudence? Is not all its 
+vigilance spent in the discernment of good from evil things, so that no 
+mistake may be admitted about what we should desire and what avoid? 
+And thus it is itself a proof that we are in the midst of evils, or that evils 
+are in us; for it teaches us that it is an evil to consent to sin, and a good 
+to refuse this consent. And yet this evil, to which prudence teaches and 
+temperance enables us not to consent, is removed from this life neither 
+by prudence nor by temperance. And justice, whose office it is to render 
+to every man his due, whereby there is in man himself a certain just 
+order of nature, so that the soul is subjected to God, and the flesh to the 
+soul, and consequently both soul and flesh to God—does not this virtue 
+demonstrate that it is as yet rather labouring towards its end than 
+resting in its finished work? For the soul is so much the less subjected to 
+God as it is less occupied with the thought of God; and the flesh is so 
+much the less subjected to the spirit as it lusts more vehemently against 
+the spirit. So long, therefore, as we are beset by this weakness, this 
+plague, this disease, how shall we dare to say that we are safe? and if 
+not safe, then how can we be already enjoying our final beatitude? Then 
+that virtue which goes by the name of fortitude is the plainest proof of 
+the ills of life, for it is these ills which it is compelled to bear patiently. 
+And this holds good, no matter though the ripest wisdom co-exists with 
+it. And I am at a loss to understand how the Stoic philosophers can 
+presume to say that these are no ills, though at the same time they allow 
+the wise man to commit suicide and pass out of this life if they become 
+so grievous that he cannot or ought not to endure them. But such is the 
+stupid pride of these men who fancy that the supreme good can be found 
+in this life, and that they can become happy by their own resources, that 
+their wise man, or at least the man whom they fancifully depict as such, 
+is always happy, even though he become blind, deaf, dumb, mutilated, 
+racked with pains, or suffer any conceivable calamity such as may 
+compel him to make away with himself; and they are not ashamed to 
+call the life that is beset with these evils happy. O happy life, which 
+seeks the aid of death to end it! If it is happy, let the wise man remain in 
+it; but if these ills drive him out of it, in what sense is it happy? Or how 
+
+
+can they say that these are not evils which conquer the virtue of 
+fortitude, and force it not only to yield, but so to rave that it in one 
+breath calls life happy and recommends it to be given up? For who is so 
+blind as not to see that if it were happy it would not be fled from? And if 
+they say we should flee from it on account of the infirmities that beset it, 
+why then do they not lower their pride and acknowledge that it is 
+miserable? Was it, I would ask, fortitude or weakness which prompted 
+Cato to kill himself? for he would not have done so had he not been too 
+weak to endure Cesar’s victory. Where, then, is his fortitude? It has 
+yielded, it has succumbed, it has been so thoroughly overcome as to 
+abandon, forsake, flee this happy life. Or was it no longer happy? Then it 
+was miserable. How, then, were these not evils which made life 
+miserable, and a thing to be escaped from? 
+
+And therefore those who admit that these are evils, as the Peripatetics 
+do, and the Old Academy, the sect with Varro advocates, express a more 
+intelligible doctrine; but theirs also is a surprising mistake, for they 
+contend that this is a happy life which is beset by these evils, even 
+though they be so great that he who endures them should commit 
+suicide to escape them. “Pains and anguish of body,” says Varro, “are 
+evils, and so much the worse in proportion to their severity; and to 
+escape them you must quit this life.” What life, I pray? This life, he says, 
+which is oppressed by such evils. Then it is happy in the midst of these 
+very evils on account of which you say we must quit it? Or do you call it 
+happy because you are at liberty to escape these evils by death? What, 
+then, if by some secret judgment of God you were held fast and not 
+permitted to die, nor suffered to live without these evils? In that case, at 
+least, you would say that such a life was miserable. It is soon 
+relinquished, no doubt, but this does not make it not miserable; for were 
+it eternal, you yourself would pronounce it miserable. Its brevity, 
+therefore, does not clear it of misery; neither ought it to be called 
+happiness because it is a brief misery. Certainly there is a mighty force 
+in these evils which compel a man—according to them, even a wise man 
+—to cease to be a man that he may escape them, though they say, and 
+say truly, that it is as it were the first and strongest demand of nature 
+that a man cherish himself, and naturally therefore avoid death, and 
+should so stand his own friend as to wish and vehemently aim at 
+continuing to exist as a living creature, and subsisting in this union of 
+
+
+soul and body. There is a mighty force in these evils to overcome this 
+natural instinct by which death is by every means and with all a man’s 
+efforts avoided, and to overcome it so completely that what was avoided 
+is desired, sought after, and if it cannot in any other way be obtained, is 
+inflicted by the man on himself. There is a mighty force in these evils 
+which make fortitude a homicide—if, indeed, that is to be called 
+fortitude which is so thoroughly overcome by these evils, that it not only 
+cannot preserve by patience the man whom it undertook to govern and 
+defend, but is itself obliged to kill him. The wise man, I admit, ought to 
+bear death with patience, but when it is inflicted by another. If, then, as 
+these men maintain, he is obliged to inflict it on himself, certainly it 
+must be owned that the ills which compel him to this are not only evils, 
+but intolerable evils. The life, then, which is either subject to accidents, 
+or environed with evils so considerable and grievous, could never have 
+been called happy, if the men who give it this name had condescended 
+to yield to the truth, and to be conquered by valid arguments, when they 
+inquired after the happy life, as they yield to unhappiness, and are 
+overcome by overwhelming evils, when they put themselves to death, 
+and if they had not fancied that the supreme good was to be found in 
+this mortal life; for the very virtues of this life, which are certainly its 
+best and most useful possessions, are all the more telling proofs of its 
+miseries in proportion as they are helpful against the violence of its 
+dangers, toils, and woes. For if these are true virtues—and such cannot 
+exist save in those who have true piety—they do not profess to be able 
+to deliver the men who possess them from all miseries; for true virtues 
+tell no such lies, but they profess that by the hope of the future world 
+this life, which is miserably involved in the many and great evils of this 
+world, is happy as it is also safe. For if not yet safe, how could it be 
+happy? And therefore the Apostle Paul, speaking not of men without 
+prudence, temperance, fortitude, and justice, but of those whose lives 
+were regulated by true piety, and whose virtues were therefore true, 
+says, “For we are saved by hope: now hope which is seen is not hope; for 
+what a man seeth, why doth he yet hope for? But if we hope for that we 
+see not, then do we with patience wait for it.”19 As, therefore, we are 
+saved, so we are made happy by hope. And as we do not as yet possess a 
+present, but look for a future salvation, so is it with our happiness, and 
+this “with patience;” for we are encompassed with evils, which we ought 
+
+
+patiently to endure, until we come to the ineffable enjoyment of 
+unmixed good; for there shall be no longer anything to endure. 
+Salvation, such as it shall be in the world to come, shall itself be our 
+final happiness. And this happiness these philosophers refuse to believe 
+in, because they do not see it, and attempt to fabricate for themselves a 
+happiness in this life, based upon a virtue which is as deceitful as it is 
+proud. 
+
+
+5. Of the social life, which, though most desirable, is frequently disturbed by many distresses 
+
+
+We give a much more unlimited approval to their idea that the life of 
+the wise man must be social. For how could the city of God (concerning 
+which we are already writing no less than the nineteenth book of this 
+work) either take a beginning or be developed, or attain its proper 
+destiny, if the life of the saints were not a social life? But who can 
+enumerate all the great grievances with which human society abounds in 
+the misery of this mortal state? Who can weigh them? Hear how one of 
+their comic writers makes one of his characters express the common 
+feelings of all men in this matter: “I am married; this is one misery. 
+Children are born to me; they are additional cares.”!1 What shall I say of 
+the miseries of love which Terence also recounts—“slights, suspicions, 
+quarrels, war to-day, peace to-morrow?”!2 Is not human life full of such 
+things? Do they not often occur even in honourable friendships? On all 
+hands we experience these slights, suspicions, quarrels, war, all of which 
+are undoubted evils; while, on the other hand, peace is a doubtful good, 
+because we do not know the heart of our friend, and though we did 
+know it to-day, we should be as ignorant of what it might be to-morrow. 
+Who ought to be, or who are more friendly than those who live in the 
+same family? And yet who can rely even upon this friendship, seeing 
+that secret treachery has often broken it up, and produced enmity as 
+bitter as the amity was sweet, or seemed sweet by the most perfect 
+dissimulation? It is on this account that the words of Cicero so move the 
+heart of every one, and provoke a sigh: “There are no snares more 
+dangerous than those which lurk under the guise of duty or the name of 
+relationship. For the man who is your declared foe you can easily baffle 
+by precaution; but this hidden, intestine, and domestic danger not 
+merely exists, but overwhelms you before you can foresee and examine 
+it.”13 It is also to this that allusion is made by the divine saying, “A 
+
+
+man’s foes are those of his own household”!4—words which one cannot 
+hear without pain; for though a man have sufficient fortitude to endure 
+it with equanimity, and sufficient sagacity to baffle the malice of a 
+pretended friend, yet if he himself is a good man, he cannot but be 
+greatly pained at the discovery of the perfidy of wicked men, whether 
+they have always been wicked and merely feigned goodness, or have 
+fallen from a better to a malicious disposition. If, then, home, the natural 
+refuge from the ills of life, is itself not safe, what shall we say of the city, 
+which, as it is larger, is so much the more filled with lawsuits civil and 
+criminal, and is never free from the fear, if sometimes from the actual 
+outbreak, of disturbing and bloody insurrections and civil wars? 
+
+
+6. Of the error of human judgments when the truth is hidden 
+
+
+What shall I say of these judgments which men pronounce on men, 
+and which are necessary in communities, whatever outward peace they 
+enjoy? Melancholy and lamentable judgments they are, since the judges 
+are men who cannot discern the consciences of those at their bar, and 
+are therefore frequently compelled to put innocent witnesses to the 
+torture to ascertain the truth regarding the crimes of other men. What 
+shall I say of torture applied to the accused himself? He is tortured to 
+discover whether he is guilty, so that, though innocent, he suffers most 
+undoubted punishment for crime that is still doubtful, not because it is 
+proved that he committed it, but because it is not ascertained that he did 
+not commit it. Thus the ignorance of the judge frequently involves an 
+innocent person in suffering. And what is still more unendurable—a 
+thing, indeed, to be bewailed, and, if that were possible, watered with 
+fountains of tears—is this, that when the judge puts the accused to the 
+question, that he may not unwittingly put an innocent man to death, the 
+result of this lamentable ignorance is that this very person, whom he 
+tortured that he might not condemn him if innocent, is condemned to 
+death both tortured and innocent. For if he has chosen, in obedience to 
+the philosophical instructions to the wise man, to quit this life rather 
+than endure any longer such tortures, he declares that he has committed 
+the crime which in fact he has not committed. And when he has been 
+condemned and put to death, the judge is still in ignorance whether he 
+has put to death an innocent or a guilty person, though he put the 
+
+
+accused to the torture for the very purpose of saving himself from 
+condemning the innocent; and consequently he has both tortured an 
+innocent man to discover his innocence, and has put him to death 
+without discovering it. If such darkness shrouds social life, will a wise 
+judge take his seat on the bench or no? Beyond question he will. For 
+human society, which he thinks it a wickedness to abandon, constrains 
+him and compels him to this duty. And he thinks it no wickedness that 
+innocent witnesses are tortured regarding the crimes of which other men 
+are accused; or that the accused are put to the torture, so that they are 
+often overcome with anguish, and, though innocent, make false 
+confessions regarding themselves, and are punished; or that, though they 
+be not condemned to die, they often die during, or in consequence of, 
+the torture; or that sometimes the accusers, who perhaps have been 
+prompted by a desire to benefit society by bringing criminals to justice, 
+are themselves condemned through the ignorance of the judge, because 
+they are unable to prove the truth of their accusations though they are 
+true, and because the witnesses lie, and the accused endures the torture 
+without being moved to confession. These numerous and important evils 
+he does not consider sins; for the wise judge does these things, not with 
+any intention of doing harm, but because his ignorance compels him, 
+and because human society claims him as a judge. But though we 
+therefore acquit the judge of malice, we must none the less condemn 
+human life as miserable. And if he is compelled to torture and punish the 
+innocent because his office and his ignorance constrain him, is he a 
+happy as well as a guiltless man? Surely it were proof of more profound 
+considerateness and finer feeling were he to recognise the misery of 
+these necessities, and shrink from his own implication in that misery; 
+and had he any piety about him, he would cry to God, “From my 
+necessities deliver Thou me.”!5 
+
+
+7. Of the diversity of languages, by which the intercourse of men is prevented; and of the misery 
+
+
+of wars, even of those called just 
+
+
+After the state or city comes the world, the third circle of human 
+society—the first being the house, and the second the city. And the 
+world, as it is larger, so it is fuller of dangers, as the greater sea is the 
+more dangerous. And here, in the first place, man is separated from man 
+by the difference of languages. For if two men, each ignorant of the 
+
+
+other’s language, meet, and are not compelled to pass, but, on the 
+contrary, to remain in company, dumb animals, though of different 
+species, would more easily hold intercourse than they, human beings 
+though they be. For their common nature is no help to friendliness when 
+they are prevented by diversity of language from conveying their 
+sentiments to one another; so that a man would more readily hold 
+intercourse with his dog than with a foreigner. But the imperial city has 
+endeavoured to impose on subject nations not only her yoke, but her 
+language, as a bond of peace, so that interpreters, far from being scarce, 
+are numberless. This is true; but how many great wars, how much 
+slaughter and bloodshed, have provided this unity! And though these are 
+past, the end of these miseries has not yet come. For though there have 
+never been wanting, nor are yet wanting, hostile nations beyond the 
+empire, against whom wars have been and are waged, yet, supposing 
+there were no such nations, the very extent of the empire itself has 
+produced wars of a more obnoxious description—social and civil wars— 
+and with these the whole race has been agitated, either by the actual 
+conflict or the fear of a renewed outbreak. If I attempted to give an 
+adequate description of these manifold disasters, these stern and lasting 
+necessities, though I am quite unequal to the task, what limit could I set? 
+But, say they, the wise man will wage just wars. As if he would not all 
+the rather lament the necessity of just wars, if he remembers that he is a 
+man; for if they were not just he would not wage them, and would 
+therefore be delivered from all wars. For it is the wrong-doing of the 
+opposing party which compels the wise man to wage just wars; and this 
+wrong-doing, even though it gave rise to no war, would still be matter of 
+grief to man because it is man’s wrong-doing. Let every one, then, who 
+thinks with pain on all these great evils, so horrible, so ruthless, 
+acknowledge that this is misery. And if any one either endures or thinks 
+of them without mental pain, this is a more miserable plight still, for he 
+thinks himself happy because he has lost human feeling. 
+
+
+8. That the friendship of good men cannot be securely rested in, so long as the dangers of this life 
+
+
+force us to be anxious 
+
+
+In our present wretched condition we frequently mistake a friend for 
+an enemy, and an enemy for a friend. And if we escape this pitiable 
+blindness, is not the unfeigned confidence and mutual love of true and 
+
+
+good friends our one solace in human society, filled as it is with 
+misunderstandings and calamities? And yet the more friends we have, 
+and the more widely they are scattered, the more numerous are our fears 
+that some portion of the vast masses of the disasters of life may light 
+upon them. For we are not only anxious lest they suffer from famine, 
+war, disease, captivity, or the inconceivable horrors of slavery, but we 
+are also affected with the much more painful dread that their friendship 
+may be changed into perfidy, malice, and injustice. And when these 
+contingencies actually occur—as they do the more frequently the more 
+friends we have, and the more widely they are scattered—and when they 
+come to our knowledge, who but the man who has experienced it can 
+tell with what pangs the heart is torn? We would, in fact, prefer to hear 
+that they were dead, although we could not without anguish hear of 
+even this. For if their life has solaced us with the charms of friendship, 
+can it be that their death should affect us with no sadness? He who will 
+have none of this sadness must, if possible, have no friendly intercourse. 
+Let him interdict or extinguish friendly affection; let him burst with 
+ruthless insensibility the bonds of every human relationship; or let him 
+contrive so to use them that no sweetness shall distil into his spirit. But 
+if this is utterly impossible, how shall we contrive to feel no bitterness in 
+the death of those whose life has been sweet to us? Hence arises that 
+grief which affects the tender heart like a wound or a bruise, and which 
+is healed by the application of kindly consolation. For though the cure is 
+affected all the more easily and rapidly the better condition the soul is 
+in, we must not on this account suppose that there is nothing at all to 
+heal. Although, then, our present life is afflicted, sometimes in a milder, 
+sometimes in a more painful degree, by the death of those very dear to 
+us, and especially of useful public men, yet we would prefer to hear that 
+such men were dead rather than to hear or perceive that they had fallen 
+from the faith, or from virtue—in other words, that they were spiritually 
+dead. Of this vast material for misery the earth is full, and therefore it is 
+written, “Is not human life upon earth a trial?”!6 And with the same 
+reference the Lord says, “Woe to the world because of offences!”!7 and 
+again, “Because iniquity abounded, the love of many shall wax cold.”18 
+And hence we enjoy some gratification when our good friends die; for 
+though their death leaves us in sorrow, we have the consolatory 
+assurance that they are beyond the ills by which in this life even the best 
+
+
+of men are broken down or corrupted, or are in danger of both results. 
+
+
+9. Of the friendship of the holy angels, which men cannot be sure of in this life, owing to the deceit 
+of the demons who hold in bondage the worshippers of a plurality of gods 
+
+
+The philosophers who wished us to have the gods for our friends rank 
+the friendship of the holy angels in the fourth circle of society, 
+advancing now from the three circles of society on earth to the universe, 
+and embracing heaven itself. And in this friendship we have indeed no 
+fear that the angels will grieve us by their death or deterioration. But as 
+we cannot mingle with them as familiarly as with men (which itself is 
+one of the grievances of this life), and as Satan, as we read,!9 sometimes 
+transforms himself into an angel of light, to tempt those whom it is 
+necessary to discipline, or just to deceive, there is great need of God’s 
+mercy to preserve us from making friends of demons in disguise, while 
+we fancy we have good angels for our friends; for the astuteness and 
+deceitfulness of these wicked spirits is equalled by their hurtfulness. And 
+is this not a great misery of human life, that we are involved in such 
+ignorance as, but for God’s mercy, makes us a prey to these demons? 
+And it is very certain that the philosophers of the godless city, who have 
+maintained that the gods were their friends, had fallen a prey to the 
+malignant demons who rule that city, and whose eternal punishment is 
+to be shared by it. For the nature of these beings is sufficiently evinced 
+by the sacred or rather sacrilegious observances which form their 
+worship, and by the filthy games in which their crimes are celebrated, 
+and which they themselves originated and exacted from their 
+worshippers as a fit propitiation. 
+
+
+10. The reward prepared for the saints after they have endured the trial of this life 
+
+
+But not even the saints and faithful worshippers of the one true and 
+most high God are safe from the manifold temptations and deceits of the 
+demons. For in this abode of weakness, and in these wicked days, this 
+state of anxiety has also its use, stimulating us to seek with keener 
+longing for that security where peace is complete and unassailable. 
+There we shall enjoy the gifts of nature, that is to say, all that God the 
+Creator of all natures has bestowed upon ours—gifts not only good, but 
+eternal—not only of the spirit, healed now by wisdom, but also of the 
+body renewed by the resurrection. There the virtues shall no longer be 
+
+
+struggling against any vice or evil, but shall enjoy the reward of victory, 
+the eternal peace which no adversary shall disturb. This is the final 
+blessedness, this the ultimate consummation, the unending end. Here, 
+indeed, we are said to be blessed when we have such peace as can be 
+enjoyed in a good life; but such blessedness is mere misery compared to 
+that final felicity. When we mortals possess such peace as this mortal life 
+can afford, virtue, if we are living rightly, makes a right use of the 
+advantages of this peaceful condition; and when we have it not, virtue 
+makes a good use even of the evils a man suffers. But this is true virtue, 
+when it refers all the advantages it makes a good use of, and all that it 
+does in making good use of good and evil things, and itself also, to that 
+end in which we shall enjoy the best and greatest peace possible. 
+
+
+11. Of the happiness of the eternal peace, which constitutes the end or true perfection of the 
+saints 
+
+
+And thus we may say of peace, as we have said of eternal life, that it is 
+the end of our good; and the rather because the Psalmist says of the city 
+of God, the subject of this laborious work, “Praise the Lord, O Jerusalem; 
+praise thy God, O Zion: for He hath strengthened the bars of thy gates; 
+He hath blessed thy children within thee; who hath made thy borders 
+peace.”20 For when the bars of her gates shall be strengthened, none 
+shall go in or come out from her; consequently we ought to understand 
+the peace of her borders as that final peace we are wishing to declare. 
+For even the mystical name of the city itself, that is, Jerusalem, means, as 
+I have already said, “Vision of Peace.” But as the word peace is 
+employed in connection with things in this world in which certainly life 
+eternal has no place, we have preferred to call the end or supreme good 
+of this city life eternal rather than peace. Of this end the apostle says, 
+“But now, being freed from sin, and become servants to God, ye have 
+your fruit unto holiness, and the end life eternal.”2! But, on the other 
+hand, as those who are not familiar with Scripture may suppose that the 
+life of the wicked is eternal life, either because of the immortality of the 
+soul, which some of the philosophers even have recognised, or because 
+of the endless punishment of the wicked, which forms a part of our faith, 
+and which seems impossible unless the wicked live for ever, it may 
+therefore be advisable, in order that every one may readily understand 
+
+
+what we mean, to say that the end or supreme good of this city is either 
+peace in eternal life, or eternal life in peace. For peace is a good so great, 
+that even in this earthly and mortal life there is no word we hear with 
+such pleasure, nothing we desire with such zest, or find to be more 
+thoroughly gratifying. So that if we dwell for a little longer on this 
+subject, we shall not, in my opinion, be wearisome to our readers, who 
+will attend both for the sake of understanding what is the end of this city 
+of which we speak, and for the sake of the sweetness of peace which is 
+dear to all. 
+
+
+12. That even the fierceness of war and all the disquietude of men make towards this one end of 
+
+
+peace, which every nature desires 
+
+
+Whoever gives even moderate attention to human affairs and to our 
+common nature, will recognise that if there is no man who does not wish 
+to be joyful, neither is there any one who does not wish to have peace. 
+For even they who make war desire nothing but victory—desire, that is 
+to say, to attain to peace with glory. For what else is victory than the 
+conquest of those who resist us? and when this is done there is peace. It 
+is therefore with the desire for peace that wars are waged, even by those 
+who take pleasure in exercising their warlike nature in command and 
+battle. And hence it is obvious that peace is the end sought for by war. 
+For every man seeks peace by waging war, but no man seeks war by 
+making peace. For even they who intentionally interrupt the peace in 
+which they are living have no hatred of peace, but only wish it changed 
+into a peace that suits them better. They do not, therefore, wish to have 
+no peace, but only one more to their mind. And in the case of sedition, 
+when men have separated themselves from the community, they yet do 
+not effect what they wish, unless they maintain some kind of peace with 
+their fellow-conspirators. And therefore even robbers take care to 
+maintain peace with their comrades, that they may with greater effect 
+and greater safety invade the peace of other men. And if an individual 
+happen to be of such unrivalled strength, and to be so jealous of 
+partnership, that he trusts himself with no comrades, but makes his own 
+plots, and commits depredations and murders on his own account, yet he 
+maintains some shadow of peace with such persons as he is unable to 
+kill, and from whom he wishes to conceal his deeds. In his own home, 
+too, he makes it his aim to be at peace with his wife and children, and 
+
+
+any other members of his household; for unquestionably their prompt 
+obedience to his every look is a source of pleasure to him. And if this be 
+not rendered, he is angry, he chides and punishes; and even by this 
+storm he secures the calm peace of his own home, as occasion demands. 
+For he sees that peace cannot be maintained unless all the members of 
+the same domestic circle be subject to one head, such as he himself is in 
+his own house. And therefore if a city or nation offered to submit itself 
+to him, to serve him in the same style as he had made his household 
+serve him, he would no longer lurk in a brigand’s hiding-places, but lift 
+his head in open day as a king; though the same covetousness and 
+wickedness should remain in him. And thus all men desire to have peace 
+with their own circle whom they wish to govern as suits themselves. For 
+even those whom they make war against they wish to make their own, 
+and impose on them the laws of their own peace. 
+
+But let us suppose a man such as poetry and mythology speak of—a 
+man so insociable and savage as to be called rather a semi-man than a 
+man.22 Although, then, his kingdom was the solitude of a dreary cave, 
+and he himself was so singularly bad-hearted that he was named Kak6c 
+which is the Greek word for bad; though he had no wife to soothe him 
+with endearing talk, no children to play with, no sons to do his bidding, 
+no friend to enliven him with intercourse, not even his father Vulcan 
+(though in one respect he was happier than his father, not having 
+begotten a monster like himself); although he gave to no man, but took 
+as he wished whatever he could, from whomsoever he could, when he 
+could; yet in that solitary den, the floor of which, as Virgil23 says, was 
+always reeking with recent slaughter, there was nothing else than peace 
+sought, a peace in which no one should molest him, or disquiet him with 
+any assault or alarm. With his own body he desired to be at peace; and 
+he was satisfied only in proportion as he had this peace. For he ruled his 
+members, and they obeyed him; and for the sake of pacifying his mortal 
+nature, which rebelled when it needed anything, and of allaying the 
+sedition of hunger which threatened to banish the soul from the body, 
+he made forays, slew, and devoured, but used the ferocity and 
+savageness he displayed in these actions only for the preservation of his 
+own life’s peace. So that, had he been willing to make with other men 
+the same peace which he made with himself in his own cave, he would 
+neither have been called bad, nor a monster, nor a semi-man. Or if the 
+
+
+appearance of his body and his vomiting smoky fires frightened men 
+from having any dealings with him, perhaps his fierce ways arose not 
+from a desire to do mischief, but from the necessity of finding a living. 
+But he may have had no existence, or, at least, he was not such as the 
+poets fancifully describe him, for they had to exalt Hercules, and did so 
+at the expense of Cacus. It is better, then, to believe that such a man or 
+semi-man never existed, and that this, in common with many other 
+fancies of the poets, is mere fiction. For the most savage animals (and he 
+is said to have been almost a wild beast) encompass their own species 
+with a ring of protecting peace. They cohabit, beget, produce, suckle, 
+and bring up their young, though very many of them are not gregarious, 
+but solitary—not like sheep, deer, pigeons, starlings, bees, but such as 
+lions, foxes, eagles, bats. For what tigress does not gently purr over her 
+cubs, and lay aside her ferocity to fondle them? What kite, solitary as he 
+is when circling over his prey, does not seek a mate, build a nest, hatch 
+the eggs, bring up the young birds, and maintain with the mother of his 
+family as peaceful a domestic alliance as he can? How much more 
+powerfully do the laws of man’s nature move him to hold fellowship and 
+maintain peace with all men so far as in him lies, since even wicked men 
+wage war to maintain the peace of their own circle, and wish that, if 
+possible, all men belonged to them, that all men and things might serve 
+but one head, and might, either through love or fear, yield themselves to 
+peace with him! It is thus that pride in its perversity apes God. It abhors 
+equality with other men under Him; but, instead of His rule, it seeks to 
+impose a rule of its own upon its equals. It abhors, that is to say, the just 
+peace of God, and loves its own unjust peace; but it cannot help loving 
+peace of one kind or other. For there is no vice so clean contrary to 
+nature that it obliterates even the faintest traces of nature. 
+
+He, then, who prefers what is right to what is wong, and what is well- 
+ordered to what is perverted, sees that the peace of unjust men is not 
+worthy to be called peace in comparison with the peace of the just. And 
+yet even what is perverted must of necessity be in harmony with, and 
+independence on, and in some part of the order of things, for otherwise 
+it would have no existence at all. Suppose a man hangs with his head 
+downwards, this is certainly a perverted attitude of body and 
+arrangement of its members; for that which nature requires to be above 
+is beneath, and vice versd. This perversity disturbs the peace of the body, 
+
+
+and is therefore painful. Nevertheless the spirit is at peace with its body, 
+and labours for its preservation, and hence the suffering; but if it is 
+banished from the body by its pains, then, so long as the bodily 
+framework holds together, there is in the remains a kind of peace among 
+the members, and hence the body remains suspended. And inasmuch as 
+the earthy body tends towards the earth, and rests on the bond by which 
+it is suspended, it tends thus to its natural peace, and the voice of its 
+own weight demands a place for it to rest; and though now lifeless and 
+without feeling, it does not fall from the peace that is natural to its place 
+in creation, whether it already has it, or is tending towards it. For if you 
+apply embalming preparations to prevent the bodily frame from 
+mouldering and dissolving, a kind of peace still unites part to part, and 
+keeps the whole body in a suitable place on the earth—in other words, 
+in a place that is at peace with the body. If, on the other hand, the body 
+receive no such care, but be left to the natural course, it is disturbed by 
+exhalations that do not harmonize with one another, and that offend our 
+senses; for it is this which is perceived in putrefaction until it is 
+assimilated to the elements of the world, and particle by particle enters 
+into peace with them. Yet throughout this process the laws of the most 
+high Creator and Governor are strictly observed, for it is by Him the 
+peace of the universe is administered. For although minute animals are 
+produced from the carcase of a larger animal, all these little atoms, by 
+the law of the same Creator, serve the animals they belong to in peace. 
+And although the flesh of dead animals be eaten by others, no matter 
+where it be carried, nor what it be brought into contact with, nor what it 
+be converted and changed into, it still is ruled by the same laws which 
+pervade all things for the conservation of every mortal race, and which 
+bring things that fit one another into harmony. 
+
+
+13. Of the universal peace which the law of nature preserves through all disturbances, and by 
+which every one reaches his desert in a way regulated by the just Judge 
+
+
+The peace of the body then consists in the duly proportioned 
+arrangement of its parts. The peace of the irrational soul is the 
+harmonious repose of the appetites, and that of the rational soul the 
+harmony of knowledge and action. The peace of body and soul is the 
+well-ordered and harmonious life and health of the living creature. 
+Peace between man and God is the well-ordered obedience of faith to 
+
+
+eternal law. Peace between man and man is well-ordered concord. 
+Domestic peace is the well-ordered concord between those of the family 
+who rule and those who obey. Civil peace is a similar concord among 
+the citizens. The peace of the celestial city is the perfectly ordered and 
+harmonious enjoyment of God, and of one another in God. The peace of 
+all things is the tranquillity of order. Order is the distribution which 
+allots things equal and unequal, each to its own place. And hence, 
+though the miserable, in so far as they are such, do certainly not enjoy 
+peace, but are severed from that tranquillity of order in which there is 
+no disturbance, nevertheless, inasmuch as they are deservedly and justly 
+miserable, they are by their very misery connected with order. They are 
+not, indeed, conjoined with the blessed, but they are disjoined from 
+them by the law of order. And though they are disquieted, their 
+circumstances are notwithstanding adjusted to them, and consequently 
+they have some tranquillity of order, and therefore some peace. But they 
+are wretched because, although not wholly miserable, they are not in 
+that place where any mixture of misery is impossible. They would, 
+however, be more wretched if they had not that peace which arises from 
+being in harmony with the natural order of things. When they suffer, 
+their peace is in so far disturbed; but their peace continues in so far as 
+they do not suffer, and in so far as their nature continues to exist. As, 
+then, there may be life without pain, while there cannot be pain without 
+some kind of life, so there may be peace without war, but there cannot 
+be war without some kind of peace, because war supposes the existence 
+of some natures to wage it, and these natures cannot exist without peace 
+of one kind or other. 
+
+And therefore there is a nature in which evil does not or even cannot 
+exist; but there cannot be a nature in which there is no good. Hence not 
+even the nature of the devil himself is evil, in so far as it is nature, but it 
+was made evil by being perverted. Thus he did not abide in the truth,24 
+but could not escape the judgment of the Truth; he did not abide in the 
+tranquillity of order, but did not therefore escape the power of the 
+Ordainer. The good imparted by God to his nature did not screen him 
+from the justice of God by which order was preserved in his punishment; 
+neither did God punish the good which He had created, but the evil 
+which the devil had committed. God did not take back all He had 
+imparted to his nature, but something He took and something He left, 
+
+
+that there might remain enough to be sensible of the loss of what was 
+taken. And this very sensibility to pain is evidence of the good which has 
+been taken away and the good which has been left. For, were nothing 
+good left, there could be no pain on account of the good which had been 
+lost. For he who sins is still worse if he rejoices in his loss of 
+righteousness. But he who is in pain, if he derives no benefit from it, 
+mourns at least the loss of health. And as righteousness and health are 
+both good things, and as the loss of any good thing is matter of grief, not 
+of joy—if, at least, there is no compensation, as spiritual righteousness 
+may compensate for the loss of bodily health—certainly it is more 
+suitable for a wicked man to grieve in punishment than to rejoice in his 
+fault. As, then, the joy of a sinner who has abandoned what is good is 
+evidence of a bad will, so his grief for the good he has lost when he is 
+punished is evidence of a good nature. For he who laments the peace his 
+nature has lost is stirred to do so by some relics of peace which make his 
+nature friendly to itself. And it is very just that in the final punishment 
+the wicked and godless should in anguish bewail the loss of the natural 
+advantages they enjoyed, and should perceive that they were most justly 
+taken from them by that God whose benign liberality they had despised. 
+God, then, the most wise Creator and most just Ordainer of all natures, 
+who placed the human race upon earth as its greatest ornament, 
+imparted to men some good things adapted to this life, to wit, temporal 
+peace, such as we can enjoy in this life from health and safety and 
+human fellowship, and all things needful for the preservation and 
+recovery of this peace, such as the objects which are accommodated to 
+our outward senses, light, night, the air, and waters suitable for us, and 
+everything the body requires to sustain, shelter, heal, or beautify it: and 
+all under this most equitable condition, that every man who made a 
+good use of these advantages suited to the peace of his mortal condition, 
+should receive ampler and better blessings, namely, the peace of 
+immortality, accompanied by glory and honour in an endless life made 
+fit for the enjoyment of God and of one another in God; but that he who 
+used the present blessings badly should both lose them and should not 
+receive the others. 
+
+
+14. Of the order and law which obtain in heaven and earth, whereby it comes to pass that 
+
+
+human society is served by those who rule it 
+
+
+The whole use, then, of things temporal has a reference to this result 
+of earthly peace in the earthly community, while in the city of God it is 
+connected with eternal peace. And therefore, if we were irrational 
+animals, we should desire nothing beyond the proper arrangement of the 
+parts of the body and the satisfaction of the appetites—nothing, 
+therefore, but bodily comfort and abundance of pleasures, that the peace 
+of the body might contribute to the peace of the soul. For if bodily peace 
+be awanting, a bar is put to the peace even of the irrational soul, since it 
+cannot obtain the gratification of its appetites. And these two together 
+help out the mutual peace of soul and body, the peace of harmonious life 
+and health. For as animals, by shunning pain, show that they love bodily 
+peace, and, by pursuing pleasure to gratify their appetites, show that 
+they love peace of soul, so their shrinking from death is a sufficient 
+indication of their intense love of that peace which binds soul and body 
+in close alliance. But, as man has a rational soul, he subordinates all this 
+which he has in common with the beasts to the peace of his rational 
+soul, that his intellect may have free play and may regulate his actions, 
+and that he may thus enjoy the well-ordered harmony of knowledge and 
+action which constitutes, as we have said, the peace of the rational soul. 
+And for this purpose he must desire to be neither molested by pain, nor 
+disturbed by desire, nor extinguished by death, that he may arrive at 
+some useful knowledge by which he may regulate his life and manners. 
+But, owing to the liability of the human mind to fall into mistakes, this 
+very pursuit of knowledge may be a snare to him unless he has a divine 
+Master, whom he may obey without misgiving, and who may at the 
+same time give him such help as to preserve his own freedom. And 
+because, so long as he is in this mortal body, he is a stranger to God, he 
+walks by faith, not by sight; and he therefore refers all peace, bodily or 
+spiritual or both, to that peace which mortal man has with the immortal 
+God, so that he exhibits the well-ordered obedience of faith to eternal 
+law. But as this divine Master inculcates two precepts—the love of God 
+and the love of our neighbour—and as in these precepts a man finds 
+three things he has to love—God, himself, and his neighbour—and that 
+he who loves God loves himself thereby, it follows that he must 
+endeavour to get his neighbour to love God, since he is ordered to love 
+his neighbour as himself. He ought to make this endeavour in behalf of 
+his wife, his children, his household, all within his reach, even as he 
+
+
+would wish his neighbour to do the same for him if he needed it; and 
+consequently he will be at peace, or in well-ordered concord, with all 
+men, as far as in him lies. And this is the order of this concord, that a 
+man, in the first place, injure no one, and, in the second, do good to 
+every one he can reach. Primarily, therefore, his own household are his 
+care, for the law of nature and of society gives him readier access to 
+them and greater opportunity of serving them. And hence the apostle 
+says, “Now, if any provide not for his own, and specially for those of his 
+own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel.”25 
+This is the origin of domestic peace, or the well-ordered concord of those 
+in the family who rule and those who obey. For they who care for the 
+rest rule—the husband the wife, the parents the children, the masters the 
+servants; and they who are cared for obey—the women their husbands, 
+the children their parents, the servants their masters. But in the family of 
+the just man who lives by faith and is as yet a pilgrim journeying on to 
+the celestial city, even those who rule serve those whom they seem to 
+command; for they rule not from a love of power, but from a sense of 
+the duty they owe to others—not because they are proud of authority, 
+but because they love mercy. 
+
+
+15. Of the liberty proper to man’s nature, and the servitude introduced by sin,— a servitude in 
+which the man whose will is wicked is the slave of his own lust, though he is free so far as 
+
+
+regards other men 
+
+
+This is prescribed by the order of nature: it is thus that God has 
+created man. For “let them,” He says, “have dominion over the fish of 
+the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every creeping thing 
+which creepeth on the earth.”26 He did not intend that His rational 
+creature, who was made in His image, should have dominion over 
+anything but the irrational creation—not man over man, but man over 
+the beasts. And hence the righteous men in primitive times were made 
+shepherds of cattle rather than kings of men, God intending thus to teach 
+us what the relative position of the creatures is, and what the desert of 
+sin; for it is with justice, we believe, that the condition of slavery is the 
+result of sin. And this is why we do not find the word “slave” in any part 
+of Scripture until righteous Noah branded the sin of his son with this 
+name. It is a name, therefore, introduced by sin and not by nature. The 
+origin of the Latin word for slave is supposed to be found in the 
+
+
+circumstance that those who by the law of war were liable to be killed 
+were sometimes preserved by their victors, and were hence called 
+servants.2”7 And these circumstances could never have arisen save 
+through sin. For even when we wage a just war, our adversaries must be 
+sinning; and every victory, even though gained by wicked men, is a 
+result of the first judgment of God, who humbles the vanquished either 
+for the sake of removing or of punishing their sins. Witness that man of 
+God, Daniel, who, when he was in captivity, confessed to God his own 
+sins and the sins of his people, and declares with pious grief that these 
+were the cause of the captivity.28 The prime cause, then, of slavery is 
+sin, which brings man under the dominion of his fellow—that which 
+does not happen save by the judgment of God, with whom is no 
+unrighteousness, and who knows how to award fit punishments to every 
+variety of offence. But our Master in heaven says, “Every one who doeth 
+sin is the servant of sin.”29 And thus there are many wicked masters who 
+have religious men as their slaves, and who are yet themselves in 
+bondage; “for of whom a man is overcome, of the same is he brought in 
+bondage.”39 And beyond question it is a happier thing to be the slave of 
+a man than of a lust; for even this very lust of ruling, to mention no 
+others, lays waste men’s hearts with the most ruthless dominion. 
+Moreover, when men are subjected to one another in a peaceful order, 
+the lowly position does as much good to the servant as the proud 
+position does harm to the master. But by nature, as God first created us, 
+no one is the slave either of man or of sin. This servitude is, however, 
+penal, and is appointed by that law which enjoins the preservation of the 
+natural order and forbids its disturbance; for if nothing had been done in 
+violation of that law, there would have been nothing to restrain by penal 
+servitude. And therefore the apostle admonishes slaves to be subject to 
+their masters, and to serve them heartily and with good-will, so that, if 
+they cannot be freed by their masters, they may themselves make their 
+slavery in some sort free, by serving not in crafty fear, but in faithful 
+love, until all unrighteousness pass away, and all principality and every 
+human power be brought to nothing, and God be all in all. 
+
+
+16. Of equitable rule 
+
+
+And therefore, although our righteous fathers?! had slaves, and 
+
+
+administered their domestic affairs so as to distinguish between the 
+condition of slaves and the heirship of sons in regard to the blessings of 
+this life, yet in regard to the worship of God, in whom we hope for 
+eternal blessings, they took an equally loving oversight of all the 
+members of their household. And this is so much in accordance with the 
+natural order, that the head of the household was called paterfamilias; 
+and this name has been so generally accepted, that even those whose 
+rule is unrighteous are glad to apply it to themselves. But those who are 
+true fathers of their households desire and endeavour that all the 
+members of their household, equally with their own children, should 
+worship and win God, and should come to that heavenly home in which 
+the duty of ruling men is no longer necessary, because the duty of caring 
+for their everlasting happiness has also ceased; but, until they reach that 
+home, masters ought to feel their position of authority a greater burden 
+than servants their service. And if any member of the family interrupts 
+the domestic peace by disobedience, he is corrected either by word or 
+blow, or some kind of just and legitimate punishment, such as society 
+permits, that he may himself be the better for it, and be readjusted to the 
+family harmony from which he had dislocated himself. For as it is not 
+benevolent to give a man help at the expense of some greater benefit he 
+might receive, so it is not innocent to spare a man at the risk of his 
+falling into graver sin. To be innocent, we must not only do harm to no 
+man, but also restrain him from sin or punish his sin, so that either the 
+man himself who is punished may profit by his experience, or others be 
+warned by his example. Since, then, the house ought to be the beginning 
+or element of the city, and every beginning bears reference to some end 
+of its own kind, and every element to the integrity of the whole of which 
+it is an element, it follows plainly enough that domestic peace has a 
+relation to civic peace—in other words, that the well-ordered concord of 
+domestic obedience and domestic rule has a relation to the well-ordered 
+concord of civic obedience and civic rule. And therefore it follows, 
+further, that the father of the family ought to frame his domestic rule in 
+accordance with the law of the city, so that the household may be in 
+harmony with the civic order. 
+
+
+17. What produces peace, and what discord, between the heavenly and earthly cities 
+
+
+But the families which do not live by faith seek their peace in the 
+
+
+earthly advantages of this life; while the families which live by faith look 
+for those eternal blessings which are promised, and use as pilgrims such 
+advantages of time and of earth as do not fascinate and divert them from 
+God, but rather aid them to endure with greater ease, and to keep down 
+the number of those burdens of the corruptible body which weigh upon 
+the soul. Thus the things necessary for this mortal life are used by both 
+kinds of men and families alike, but each has its own peculiar and 
+widely different aim in using them. The earthly city, which does not live 
+by faith, seeks an earthly peace, and the end it proposes, in the well- 
+ordered concord of civic obedience and rule, is the combination of men’s 
+wills to attain the things which are helpful to this life. The heavenly city, 
+or rather the part of it which sojourns on earth and lives by faith, makes 
+use of this peace only because it must, until this mortal condition which 
+necessitates it shall pass away. Consequently, so long as it lives like a 
+captive and a stranger in the earthly city, though it has already received 
+the promise of redemption, and the gift of the Spirit as the earnest of it, 
+it makes no scruple to obey the laws of the earthly city, whereby the 
+things necessary for the maintenance of this mortal life are administered; 
+and thus, as this life is common to both cities, so there is a harmony 
+between them in regard to what belongs to it. But, as the earthly city has 
+had some philosophers whose doctrine is condemned by the divine 
+teaching, and who, being deceived either by their own conjectures or by 
+demons, supposed that many gods must be invited to take an interest in 
+human affairs, and assigned to each a separate function and a separate 
+department—to one the body, to another the soul; and in the body itself, 
+to one the head, to another the neck, and each of the other members to 
+one of the gods; and in like manner, in the soul, to one god the natural 
+capacity was assigned, to another education, to another anger, to 
+another lust; and so the various affairs of life were assigned—cattle to 
+one, corn to another, wine to another, oil to another, the woods to 
+another, money to another, navigation to another, wars and victories to 
+another, marriages to another, births and fecundity to another, and other 
+things to other gods: and as the celestial city, on the other hand, knew 
+that one God only was to be worshipped, and that to Him alone was due 
+that service which the Greeks call 4#p¢’@ and which can be given only to 
+a god, it has come to pass that the two cities could not have common 
+laws of religion, and that the heavenly city has been compelled in this 
+
+
+matter to dissent, and to become obnoxious to those who think 
+differently, and to stand the brunt of their anger and hatred and 
+persecutions, except in so far as the minds of their enemies have been 
+alarmed by the multitude of the Christians and quelled by the manifest 
+protection of God accorded to them. This heavenly city, then, while it 
+sojourns on earth, calls citizens out of all nations, and gathers together a 
+society of pilgrims of all languages, not scrupling about diversities in the 
+manners, laws, and institutions whereby earthly peace is secured and 
+maintained, but recognising that, however various these are, they all 
+tend to one and the same end of earthly peace. It therefore is so far from 
+rescinding and abolishing these diversities, that it even preserves and 
+adapts them, so long only as no hindrance to the worship of the one 
+supreme and true God is thus introduced. Even the heavenly city, 
+therefore, while in its state of pilgrimage, avails itself of the peace of 
+earth, and, so far as it can without injuring faith and godliness, desires 
+and maintains a common agreement among men regarding the 
+acquisition of the necessaries of life, and makes this earthly peace bear 
+upon the peace of heaven; for this alone can be truly called and 
+esteemed the peace of the reasonable creatures, consisting as it does in 
+the perfectly ordered and harmonious enjoyment of God and of one 
+another in God. When we shall have reached that peace, this mortal life 
+shall give place to one that is eternal, and our body shall be no more this 
+animal body which by its corruption weighs down the soul, but a 
+spiritual body feeling no want, and in all its members subjected to the 
+will. In its pilgrim state the heavenly city possesses this peace by faith; 
+and by this faith it lives righteously when it refers to the attainment of 
+that peace every good action towards God and man; for the life of the 
+city is a social life. 
+
+
+18. How different the uncertainty of the New Academy is from the certainty of the Christian 
+faith 
+
+
+As regards the uncertainty about everything which Varro alleges to be 
+the differentiating characteristic of the New Academy, the city of God 
+thoroughly detests such doubt as madness. Regarding matters which it 
+apprehends by the mind and reason it has most absolute certainty, 
+although its knowledge is limited because of the corruptible body 
+pressing down the mind, for, as the apostle says, “We know in part.”22 It 
+
+
+believes also the evidence of the senses which the mind uses by aid of 
+the body; for [if one who trusts his senses is sometimes deceived], he is 
+more wretchedly deceived who fancies he should never trust them. It 
+believes also the Holy Scriptures, old and new, which we call canonical, 
+and which are the source of the faith by which the just lives,33 and by 
+which we walk without doubting whilst we are absent from the Lord.34 
+So long as this faith remains inviolate and firm, we may without blame 
+entertain doubts regarding some things which we have neither perceived 
+by sense nor by reason, and which have not been revealed to us by the 
+canonical Scriptures, nor come to our knowledge through witnesses 
+whom it is absurd to disbelieve. 
+
+
+19. Of the dress and habits of the Christian people 
+
+
+It is a matter of no moment in the city of God whether he who adopts 
+the faith that brings men to God adopts it in one dress and manner of life 
+or another, so long only as he lives in conformity with the 
+commandments of God. And hence, when philosophers themselves 
+become Christians, they are compelled, indeed, to abandon their 
+erroneous doctrines, but not their dress and mode of living, which are no 
+obstacle to religion. So that we make no account of that distinction of 
+sects which Varro adduced in connection with the Cynic school, 
+provided always nothing indecent or self-indulgent is retained. As to 
+these three modes of life, the contemplative, the active, and the 
+composite, although, so long as a man’s faith is preserved, he may 
+choose any of them without detriment to his eternal interests, yet he 
+must never overlook the claims of truth and duty. No man has a right to 
+lead such a life of contemplation as to forget in his own ease the service 
+due to his neighbour; nor has any man a right to be so immersed in 
+active life as to neglect the contemplation of God. The charm of leisure 
+must not be indolent vacancy of mind, but the investigation or discovery 
+of truth, that thus every man may make solid attainments without 
+grudging that others do the same. And, in active life, it is not the 
+honours or power of this life we should covet, since all things under the 
+sun are vanity, but we should aim at using our position and influence, if 
+these have been honourably attained, for the welfare of those who are 
+under us, in the way we have already explained.?5 It is to this the apostle 
+
+
+refers when he says, “He that desireth the episcopate desireth a good 
+work.”36 He wished to show that the episcopate is the title of a work, 
+not of an honour. It is a Greek word, and signifies that he who governs 
+superintends or takes care of those whom he governs: for éxi means over, 
+and cxonxeivy to see; therefore émexoneiv means “to oversee.”37 So that he who 
+loves to govern rather than to do good is no bishop. Accordingly no one 
+is prohibited from the search after truth, for in this leisure may most 
+laudably be spent; but it is unseemly to covet the high position requisite 
+for governing the people, even though that position be held and that 
+government be administered in a seemly manner. And therefore holy 
+leisure is longed for by the love of truth; but it is the necessity of love to 
+undertake requisite business. If no one imposes this burden upon us, we 
+are free to sift and contemplate truth; but if it be laid upon us, we are 
+necessitated for love’s sake to undertake it. And yet not even in this case 
+are we obliged wholly to relinquish the sweets of contemplation; for 
+were these to be withdrawn, the burden might prove more than we 
+could bear. 
+
+
+20. That the saints are in this life blessed in hope 
+
+
+Since, then, the supreme good of the city of God is perfect and eternal 
+peace, not such as mortals pass into and out of by birth and death, but 
+the peace of freedom from all evil, in which the immortals ever abide, 
+who can deny that that future life is most blessed, or that, in comparison 
+with it, this life which now we live is most wretched, be it filled with all 
+blessings of body and soul and external things? And yet, if any man uses 
+this life with a reference to that other which he ardently loves and 
+confidently hopes for, he may well be called even now blessed, though 
+not in reality so much as in hope. But the actual possession of the 
+happiness of this life, without the hope of what is beyond, is but a false 
+happiness and profound misery. For the true blessings of the soul are not 
+now enjoyed; for that is no true wisdom which does not direct all its 
+prudent observations, manly actions, virtuous self-restraint, and just 
+arrangements, to that end in which God shall be all and all in a secure 
+eternity and perfect peace. 
+
+
+21. Whether there ever was a Roman republic answering to the definitions of Scipio in Cicero’s 
+
+
+dialogue 
+
+
+This, then, is the place where I should fulfil the promise I gave in the 
+second book of this work,38 and explain, as briefly and clearly as 
+possible, that if we are to accept the definitions laid down by Scipio in 
+Cicero’s De Republica, there never was a Roman republic; for he briefly 
+defines a republic as the weal of the people. And if this definition be 
+true, there never was a Roman republic, for the people’s weal was never 
+attained among the Romans. For the people, according to his definition, 
+is an assemblage associated by a common acknowledgment of right and 
+by a community of interests. And what he means by a common 
+acknowledgment of right he explains at large, showing that a republic 
+cannot be administered without justice. Where, therefore, there is no 
+true justice there can be no right. For that which is done by right is 
+justly done, and what is unjustly done cannot be done by right. For the 
+unjust inventions of men are neither to be considered nor spoken of as 
+rights; for even they themselves say that right is that which flows from 
+the fountain of justice, and deny the definition which is commonly given 
+by those who misconceive the matter, that right is that which is useful to 
+the stronger party. Thus, where there is not true justice there can be no 
+assemblage of men associated by a common acknowledgment of right, 
+and therefore there can be no people, as defined by Scipio or Cicero; and 
+if no people, then no weal of the people, but only of some promiscuous 
+multitude unworthy of the name of people. Consequently, if the republic 
+is the weal of the people, and there is no people if it be not associated by 
+a common acknowledgment of right, and if there is no right where there 
+is no justice, then most certainly it follows that there is no republic 
+where there is no justice. Further, justice is that virtue which gives every 
+one his due. Where, then, is the justice of man, when he deserts the true 
+God and yields himself to impure demons? Is this to give every one his 
+due? Or is he who keeps back a piece of ground from the purchaser, and 
+gives it to a man who has no right to it, unjust, while he who keeps back 
+himself from the God who made him, and serves wicked spirits, is just? 
+
+This same book, De Republica, advocates the cause of justice against 
+injustice with great force and keenness. The pleading for injustice 
+against justice was first heard, and it was asserted that without injustice 
+a republic could neither increase nor even subsist, for it was laid down 
+as an absolutely unassailable position that it is unjust for some men to 
+rule and some to serve; and yet the imperial city to which the republic 
+
+
+belongs cannot rule her provinces without having recourse to this 
+injustice. It was replied in behalf of justice, that this ruling of the 
+provinces is just, because servitude may be advantageous to the 
+provincials, and is so when rightly administered—that is to say, when 
+lawless men are prevented from doing harm. And further, as they 
+became worse and worse so long as they were free, they will improve by 
+subjection. To confirm this reasoning, there is added an eminent 
+example drawn from nature: for “why,” it is asked, “does God rule man, 
+the soul the body, the reason the passions and other vicious parts of the 
+soul?” This example leaves no doubt that, to some, servitude is useful; 
+and, indeed, to serve God is useful to all. And it is when the soul serves 
+God that it exercises a right control over the body; and in the soul itself 
+the reason must be subject to God if it is to govern as it ought the 
+passions and other vices. Hence, when a man does not serve God, what 
+justice can we ascribe to him, since in this case his soul cannot exercise a 
+just control over the body, nor his reason over his vices? And if there is 
+no justice in such an individual, certainly there can be none in a 
+community composed of such persons. Here, therefore, there is not that 
+common acknowledgment of right which makes an assemblage of men a 
+people whose affairs we call a republic. And why need I speak of the 
+advantageousness, the common participation in which, according to the 
+definition, makes a people? For although, if you choose to regard the 
+matter attentively, you will see that there is nothing advantageous to 
+those who live godlessly, as every one lives who does not serve God but 
+demons, whose wickedness you may measure by their desire to receive 
+the worship of men though they are most impure spirits, yet what I have 
+said of the common acknowledgment of right is enough to demonstrate 
+that, according to the above definition, there can be no people, and 
+therefore no republic, where there is no justice. For if they assert that in 
+their republic the Romans did not serve unclean spirits, but good and 
+holy gods, must we therefore again reply to this evasion, though already 
+we have said enough, and more than enough, to expose it? He must be 
+an uncommonly stupid, or a shamelessly contentious person, who has 
+read through the foregoing books to this point, and can yet question 
+whether the Romans served wicked and impure demons. But, not to 
+speak of their character, it is written in the law of the true God, “He that 
+sacrificeth unto any god save unto the Lord only, he shall be utterly 
+
+
+destroyed.”39 He, therefore, who uttered so menacing a commandment 
+decreed that no worship should be given either to good or bad gods. 
+
+
+22. Whether the God whom the Christians serve is the true God to whom alone sacrifice ought to 
+be paid 
+
+
+But it may be replied, Who is this God, or what proof is there that He 
+alone is worthy to receive sacrifice from the Romans? One must be very 
+blind to be still asking who this God is. He is the God whose prophets 
+predicted the things we see accomplished. He is the God from whom 
+Abraham received the assurance, “In thy seed shall all nations be 
+blessed.”49 That this was fulfilled in Christ, who, according to the flesh 
+sprang from that seed, is recognised, whether they will or no, even by 
+those who have continued to be the enemies of this name. He is the God 
+whose divine Spirit spake by the men whose predictions I cited in the 
+preceding books, and which are fulfilled in the Church which has 
+extended over all the world. This is the God whom Varro, the most 
+learned of the Romans, supposed to be Jupiter, though he knows not 
+what he says; yet I think it right to note the circumstance that a man of 
+such learning was unable to suppose that this God had no existence or 
+was contemptible, but believed Him to be the same as the supreme God. 
+In fine, He is the God whom Porphyry, the most learned of the 
+philosophers, though the bitterest enemy of the Christians, confesses to 
+be a great God, even according to the oracles of those whom he esteems 
+gods. 
+
+
+23. Porphyry’s account of the responses given by the oracles of the gods concerning Christ 
+
+
+For in his book called & doyiwy grosegiag in which he collects and 
+comments upon the responses which he pretends were uttered by the 
+gods concerning divine things, he says—I give his own words as they 
+have been translated from the Greek: “To one who inquired what god he 
+should propitiate in order to recall his wife from Christianity, Apollo 
+replied in the following verses.” Then the following words are given as 
+those of Apollo: “You will probably find it easier to write lasting 
+characters on the water, or lightly fly like a bird through the air, than to 
+restore right feeling in your impious wife once she has polluted herself. 
+Let her remain as she pleases in her foolish deception, and sing false 
+laments to her dead God, who was condemned by right-minded judges, 
+
+
+and perished ignominiously by a violent death.” Then after these verses 
+of Apollo (which we have given in a Latin version that does not preserve 
+the metrical form), he goes on to say: “In these verses Apollo exposed 
+the incurable corruption of the Christians, saying that the Jews, rather 
+than the Christians, recognised God.” See how he misrepresents Christ, 
+giving the Jews the preference to the Christians in the recognition of 
+God. This was his explanation of Apollo’s verses, in which he says that 
+Christ was put to death by right-minded or just judges—in other words, 
+that He deserved to die. I leave the responsibility of this oracle regarding 
+Christ on the lying interpreter of Apollo, or on this philosopher who 
+believed it or possibly himself invented it; as to its agreement with 
+Porphyry’s opinions or with other oracles, we shall in a little have 
+something to say. In this passage, however, he says that the Jews, as the 
+interpreters of God, judged justly in pronouncing Christ to be worthy of 
+the most shameful death. He should have listened, then, to this God of 
+the Jews to whom he bears this testimony, when that God says, “He that 
+sacrificeth to any other god save to the Lord alone shall be utterly 
+destroyed.” But let us come to still plainer expressions, and hear how 
+great a God Porphyry thinks the God of the Jews is. Apollo, he says, 
+when asked whether word, i.e. reason, or law is the better thing, replied 
+in the following verses. Then he gives the verses of Apollo, from which I 
+select the following as sufficient: “God, the Generator, and the King prior 
+to all things, before whom heaven and earth, and the sea, and the 
+hidden places of hell tremble, and the deities themselves are afraid, for 
+their law is the Father whom the holy Hebrews honour.” In this oracle of 
+his god Apollo, Porphyry avowed that the God of the Hebrews is so great 
+that the deities themselves are afraid before Him. I am surprised, 
+therefore, that when God said, He that sacrificeth to other gods shall be 
+utterly destroyed, Porphyry himself was not afraid lest he should be 
+destroyed for sacrificing to other gods. 
+
+This philosopher, however, has also some good to say of Christ, 
+oblivious, as it were, of that contumely of his of which we have just been 
+speaking; or as if his gods spoke evil of Christ only while asleep, and 
+recognised Him to be good, and gave Him His deserved praise, when 
+they awoke. For, as if he were about to proclaim some marvellous thing 
+passing belief, he says, “What we are going to say will certainly take 
+some by surprise. For the gods have declared that Christ was very pious, 
+
+
+and has become immortal, and that they cherish his memory: that the 
+Christians, however, are polluted, contaminated, and involved in error. 
+And many other such things,” he says, “do the gods say against the 
+Christians.” Then he gives specimens of the accusations made, as he 
+says, by the gods against them, and goes on: “But to some who asked 
+Hecate whether Christ were a God, she replied, You know the condition 
+of the disembodied immortal soul and that if it has been severed from 
+wisdom it always errs. The soul you refer to is that of a man foremost in 
+piety: they worship it because they mistake the truth.” To this so-called 
+oracular response he adds the following words of his own: “Of this very 
+pious man, then, Hecate said that the soul, like the souls of other good 
+men, was after death dowered with immortality, and that the Christians 
+through ignorance worship it. And to those who ask why he was 
+condemned to die, the oracle of the goddess replied, The body, indeed, is 
+always exposed to torments, but the souls of the pious abide in heaven. 
+And the soul you inquire about has been the fatal cause of error to other 
+souls which were not fated to receive the gifts of the gods, and to have 
+the knowledge of immortal Jove. Such souls are therefore hated by the 
+gods; for they who were fated not to receive the gifts of the gods, and 
+not to know God, were fated to be involved in error by means of him 
+you speak of. He himself, however, was good, and heaven has been 
+opened to him as to other good men. You are not, then, to speak evil of 
+him, but to pity the folly of men: and through him men’s danger is 
+imminent.” 
+
+Who is so foolish as not to see that these oracles were either composed 
+by a clever man with a strong animus against the Christians, or were 
+uttered as responses by impure demons with a similar design—that is to 
+say, in order that their praise of Christ may win credence for their 
+vituperation of Christians; and that thus they may, if possible, close the 
+way of eternal salvation, which is identical with Christianity? For they 
+believe that they are by no means counterworking their own hurtful 
+craft by promoting belief in Christ, so long as their calumniation of 
+Christians is also accepted; for they thus secure that even the man who 
+thinks well of Christ declines to become a Christian, and is therefore not 
+delivered from their own rule by the Christ he praises. Besides, their 
+praise of Christ is so contrived that whosoever believes in Him as thus 
+represented will not be a true Christian but a Photinian heretic, 
+
+
+recognising only the humanity, and not also the divinity of Christ, and 
+will thus be precluded from salvation and from deliverance out of the 
+meshes of these devilish lies. For our part, we are no better pleased with 
+Hecate’s praises of Christ than with Apollo’s calumniation of Him. Apollo 
+says that Christ was put to death by right-minded judges, implying that 
+He was unrighteous. Hecate says that He was a most pious man, but no 
+more. The intention of both is the same, to prevent men from becoming 
+Christians, because if this be secured, men shall never be rescued from 
+their power. But it is incumbent on our philosopher, or rather on those 
+who believe in these pretended oracles against the Christians, first of all, 
+if they can, to bring Apollo and Hecate to the same mind regarding 
+Christ, so that either both may condemn or both praise Him. And even if 
+they succeeded in this, we for our part would notwithstanding repudiate 
+the testimony of demons, whether favourable or adverse to Christ. But 
+when our adversaries find a god and goddess of their own at variance 
+about Christ, the one praising, the other vituperating Him, they can 
+certainly give no credence, if they have any judgment, to mere men who 
+blaspheme the Christians. 
+
+When Porphyry or Hecate praises Christ, and adds that He gave 
+Himself to the Christians as a fatal gift, that they might be involved in 
+error, he exposes, as he thinks, the causes of this error. But before I cite 
+his words to that purpose, I would ask, If Christ did thus give Himself to 
+the Christians to involve them in error, did He do so willingly, or against 
+His will? If willingly, how is He righteous? If against His will, how is He 
+blessed? However, let us hear the causes of this error. “There are,” he 
+says, “in a certain place very small earthly spirits, subject to the power 
+of evil demons. The wise men of the Hebrews, among whom was this 
+Jesus, as you have heard from the oracles of Apollo cited above, turned 
+religious persons from these very wicked demons and minor spirits, and 
+taught them rather to worship the celestial gods, and especially to adore 
+God the Father. This,” he said, “the gods enjoin; and we have already 
+shown how they admonish the soul to turn to God, and command it to 
+worship Him. But the ignorant and the ungodly, who are not destined to 
+receive favours from the gods, nor to know the immortal Jupiter, not 
+listening to the gods and their messages, have turned away from all 
+gods, and have not only refused to hate, but have venerated the 
+prohibited demons. Professing to worship God, they refuse to do those 
+
+
+things by which alone God is worshipped. For God, indeed, being the 
+Father of all, is in need of nothing; but for us it is good to adore Him by 
+means of justice, chastity, and other virtues, and thus to make life itself 
+a prayer to Him, by inquiring into and imitating His nature. For 
+inquiry,” says he, “purifies and imitation deifies us, by moving us nearer 
+to Him.” He is right in so far as he proclaims God the Father, and the 
+conduct by which we should worship Him. Of such precepts the 
+prophetic books of the Hebrews are full, when they praise or blame the 
+life of the saints. But in speaking of the Christians he is in error, and 
+calumniates them as much as is desired by the demons whom he takes 
+for gods, as if it were difficult for any man to recollect the disgraceful 
+and shameful actions which used to be done in the theatres and temples 
+to please the gods, and to compare with these things what is heard in 
+our churches, and what is offered to the true God, and from this 
+comparison to conclude where character is edified, and where it is 
+ruined. But who but a diabolical spirit has told or suggested to this man 
+so manifest and vain a lie, as that the Christians reverenced rather than 
+hated the demons, whose worship the Hebrews prohibited? But that 
+God, whom the Hebrew sages worshipped, forbids sacrifice to be offered 
+even to the holy angels of heaven and divine powers, whom we, in this 
+our pilgrimage, venerate and love as our most blessed fellow-citizens. 
+For in the law which God gave to His Hebrew people He utters this 
+menace, as in a voice of thunder: “He that sacrificeth unto any god, save 
+unto the Lord only, he shall be utterly destroyed.”4! And that no one 
+might suppose that this prohibition extends only to the very wicked 
+demons and earthly spirits, whom this philosopher calls very small and 
+inferior —for even these are in the Scripture called gods, not of the 
+Hebrews, but of the nations, as the Septuagint translators have shown in 
+the psalm where it is said, “For all the gods of the nations are demons”42 
+—that no one might suppose, I say, that sacrifice to these demons was 
+prohibited, but that sacrifice might be offered to all or some of the 
+celestials, it was immediately added, “save unto the Lord alone.”43 The 
+God of the Hebrews, then, to whom this renowned philosopher bears 
+this signal testimony, gave to His Hebrew people a law, composed in the 
+Hebrew language, and not obscure and unknown, but published now in 
+every nation, and in this law it is written, “He that sacrificeth unto any 
+god, save unto the Lord alone, he shall be utterly destroyed.” What need 
+
+
+is there to seek further proofs in the law or the prophets of this same 
+thing? Seek, we need not say, for the passages are neither few nor 
+difficult to find; but what need to collect and apply to my argument the 
+proofs which are thickly sown and obvious, and by which it appears 
+clear as day that sacrifice may be paid to none but the supreme and true 
+God? Here is one brief but decided, even menacing, and certainly true 
+utterance of that God whom the wisest of our adversaries so highly 
+extol. Let this be listened to, feared, fulfilled, that there may be no 
+disobedient soul cut off. “He that sacrifices,” He says, not because He 
+needs anything, but because it behoves us to be His possession. Hence 
+the Psalmist in the Hebrew Scriptures sings, “I have said to the Lord, 
+Thou art my God, for Thou needest not my good.”44 For we ourselves, 
+who are His own city, are His most noble and worthy sacrifice, and it is 
+this mystery we celebrate in our sacrifices, which are well known to the 
+faithful, as we have explained in the preceding books. For through the 
+prophets the oracles of God declared that the sacrifices which the Jews 
+offered as a shadow of that which was to be would cease, and that the 
+nations, from the rising to the setting of the sun, would offer one 
+sacrifice. From these oracles, which we now see accomplished, we have 
+made such selections as seemed suitable to our purpose in this work. 
+And therefore, where there is not this righteousness whereby the one 
+supreme God rules the obedient city according to His grace, so that it 
+sacrifices to none but Him, and whereby, in all the citizens of this 
+obedient city, the soul consequently rules the body and reason the vices 
+in the rightful order, so that, as the individual just man, so also the 
+community and people of the just, live by faith, which works by love, 
+that love whereby man loves God as He ought to be loved, and his 
+neighbour as himself—there, I say, there is not an assemblage associated 
+by a common acknowledgment of right, and by a community of 
+interests. But if there is not this, there is not a people, if our definition 
+be true, and therefore there is no republic; for where there is no people 
+there can be no republic. 
+
+
+24. The definition which must be given of a people and a republic, in order to vindicate the 
+
+
+assumption of these titles by the Romans and by other kingdoms 
+
+
+But if we discard this definition of a people, and, assuming another, 
+say that a people is an assemblage of reasonable beings bound together 
+
+
+by a common agreement as to the objects of their love, then, in order to 
+discover the character of any people, we have only to observe what they 
+love. Yet whatever it loves, if only it is an assemblage of reasonable 
+beings and not of beasts, and is bound together by an agreement as to 
+the objects of love, it is reasonably called a people; and it will be a 
+superior people in proportion as it is bound together by higher interests, 
+inferior in proportion as it is bound together by lower. According to this 
+definition of ours, the Roman people is a people, and its weal is without 
+doubt a commonwealth or republic. But what its tastes were in its early 
+and subsequent days, and how it declined into sanguinary seditions and 
+then to social and civil wars, and so burst asunder or rotted off the bond 
+of concord in which the health of a people consists, history shows, and 
+in the preceding books I have related at large. And yet I would not on 
+this account say either that it was not a people, or that its administration 
+was not a republic, so long as there remains an assemblage of reasonable 
+beings bound together by a common agreement as to the objects of love. 
+But what I say of this people and of this republic I must be understood to 
+think and say of the Athenians or any Greek state, of the Egyptians, of 
+the early Assyrian Babylon, and of every other nation, great or small, 
+which had a public government. For, in general, the city of the ungodly, 
+which did not obey the command of God that it should offer no sacrifice 
+save to Him alone, and which, therefore, could not give to the soul its 
+proper command over the body, nor to the reason its just authority over 
+the vices, is void of true justice. 
+
+
+25. That where there is no true religion there are no true virtues 
+
+
+For though the soul may seem to rule the body admirably, and the 
+reason the vices, if the soul and reason do not themselves obey God, as 
+God has commanded them to serve Him, they have no proper authority 
+over the body and the vices. For what kind of mistress of the body and 
+the vices can that mind be which is ignorant of the true God, and which, 
+instead of being subject to His authority, is prostituted to the corrupting 
+influences of the most vicious demons? It is for this reason that the 
+virtues which it seems to itself to possess, and by which it restrains the 
+body and the vices that it may obtain and keep what it desires, are 
+rather vices than virtues so long as there is no reference to God in the 
+matter. For although some suppose that virtues which have a reference 
+
+
+only to themselves, and are desired only on their own account, are yet 
+true and genuine virtues, the fact is that even then they are inflated with 
+pride, and are therefore to be reckoned vices rather than virtues. For as 
+that which gives life to the flesh is not derived from flesh, but is above 
+it, so that which gives blessed life to man is not derived from man, but is 
+something above him; and what I say of man is true of every celestial 
+power and virtue whatsoever. 
+
+
+26. Of the peace which is enjoyed by the people that are alienated from God, and the use made of 
+it by the people of God in the time of its pilgrimage 
+
+
+Wherefore, as the life of the flesh is the soul, so the blessed life of man 
+is God, of whom the sacred writings of the Hebrews say, “Blessed is the 
+people whose God is the Lord.”45 Miserable, therefore, is the people 
+which is alienated from God. Yet even this people has a peace of its own 
+which is not to be lightly esteemed, though, indeed, it shall not in the 
+end enjoy it, because it makes no good use of it before the end. But it is 
+our interest that it enjoy this peace meanwhile in this life; for as long as 
+the two cities are commingled, we also enjoy the peace of Babylon. For 
+from Babylon the people of God is so freed that it meanwhile sojourns in 
+its company. And therefore the apostle also admonished the Church to 
+pray for kings and those in authority, assigning as the reason, “that we 
+may live a quiet and tranquil life in all godliness and love.”46 And the 
+prophet Jeremiah, when predicting the captivity that was to befall the 
+ancient people of God, and giving them the divine command to go 
+obediently to Babylonia, and thus serve their God, counselled them also 
+to pray for Babylonia, saying, “In the peace thereof shall ye have 
+peace”47—the temporal peace which the good and the wicked together 
+enjoy. 
+
+
+27. That the peace of those who serve God cannot in this mortal life be apprehended in its 
+
+
+perfection 
+
+
+But the peace which is peculiar to ourselves we enjoy now with God 
+by faith, and shall hereafter enjoy eternally with Him by sight. But the 
+peace which we enjoy in this life, whether common to all or peculiar to 
+ourselves, is rather the solace of our misery than the positive enjoyment 
+of felicity. Our very righteousness, too, though true in so far as it has 
+respect to the true good, is yet in this life of such a kind that it consists 
+
+
+rather in the remission of sins than in the perfecting of virtues. Witness 
+the prayer of the whole city of God in its pilgrim state, for it cries to God 
+by the mouth of all its members, “Forgive us our debts as we forgive our 
+debtors.”48 And this prayer is efficacious not for those whose faith is 
+“without works and dead,”49 but for those whose faith “worketh by 
+love.”59 For as reason, though subjected to God, is yet “pressed down by 
+the corruptible body,”5! so long as it is in this mortal condition, it has 
+not perfect authority over vice, and therefore this prayer is needed by 
+the righteous. For though it exercises authority, the vices do not submit 
+without a struggle. For however well one maintains the conflict, and 
+however thoroughly he has subdued these enemies, there steals in some 
+evil thing, which, if it do not find ready expression in act, slips out by 
+the lips, or insinuates itself into the thought; and therefore his peace is 
+not full so long as he is at war with his vices. For it is a doubtful conflict 
+he wages with those that resist, and his victory over those that are 
+defeated is not secure, but full of anxiety and effort. Amidst these 
+temptations, therefore, of all which it has been summarily said in the 
+divine oracles, “Is not human life upon earth a temptation?”52 who but a 
+proud man can presume that he so lives that he has no need to say to 
+God, “Forgive us our debts?” And such a man is not great, but swollen 
+and puffed up with vanity, and is justly resisted by Him who abundantly 
+gives grace to the humble. Whence it is said, “God resisteth the proud, 
+but giveth grace to the humble.”53 In this, then, consists the 
+righteousness of a man, that he submit himself to God, his body to his 
+soul, and his vices, even when they rebel, to his reason, which either 
+defeats or at least resists them; and also that he beg from God grace to 
+do his duty,5¢ and the pardon of his sins, and that he render to God 
+thanks for all the blessings he receives. But, in that final peace to which 
+all our righteousness has reference, and for the sake of which it is 
+maintained, as our nature shall enjoy a sound immortality and 
+incorruption, and shall have no more vices, and as we shall experience 
+no resistance either from ourselves or from others, it will not be 
+necessary that reason should rule vices which no longer exist, but God 
+shall rule the man, and the soul shall rule the body, with a sweetness 
+and facility suitable to the felicity of a life which is done with bondage. 
+And this condition shall there be eternal, and we shall be assured of its 
+eternity; and thus the peace of this blessedness and the blessedness of 
+
+
+this peace shall be the supreme good. 
+
+
+28. The end of the wicked 
+
+
+But, on the other hand, they who do not belong to this city of God 
+shall inherit eternal misery, which is also called the second death, 
+because the soul shall then be separated from God its life, and therefore 
+cannot be said to live, and the body shall be subjected to eternal pains. 
+And consequently this second death shall be the more severe, because no 
+death shall terminate it. But war being contrary to peace, as misery to 
+happiness, and life to death, it is not without reason asked what kind of 
+war can be found in the end of the wicked answering to the peace which 
+is declared to be the end of the righteous? The person who puts this 
+question has only to observe what it is in war that is hurtful and 
+destructive, and he shall see that it is nothing else than the mutual 
+opposition and conflict of things. And can he conceive a more grievous 
+and bitter war than that in which the will is so opposed to passion, and 
+passion to the will, that their hostility can never be terminated by the 
+victory of either, and in which the violence of pain so conflicts with the 
+nature of the body, that neither yields to the other? For in this life, when 
+this conflict has arisen, either pain conquers and death expels the feeling 
+of it, or nature conquers and health expels the pain. But in the world to 
+come the pain continues that it may torment, and the nature endures 
+that it may be sensible of it; and neither ceases to exist, lest punishment 
+also should cease. Now, as it is through the last judgment that men pass 
+to these ends, the good to the supreme good, the evil to the supreme 
+evil, I will treat of this judgment in the following book. 
+
+
+1 Not extant. 
+
+2 Alluding to the vexed question whether virtue could be taught. 
+
+3 The prima nature, or *e@ra xara ®06w of the Stoics. 
+
+4 Frequently called the Middle Academy; the New beginning with Carneades. 
+5 Hab. ii. 4. 
+
+6 Ps. xciv. 11, and 1 Cor. iii. 20. 
+
+7 Wisdom ix. 15. 
+
+
+8 Cicero, Tusc. Quæst. iii. 8. 
+
+
+9Gal. v. 17. 
+
+10 Rom. viii. 24. 
+
+11 Terent. Adelph. v. 4. 
+12 Eunuch. i. 1. 
+
+13 In Verrem, ii. 1. 15. 
+14 Matt. x. 36. 
+
+15 Ps, xxv. 17. 
+
+16 Job vii. 1. 
+
+17 Matt. xvii. 7. 
+
+18 Matt. xxiv. 12. 
+
+19 2 Cor. xi. 14. 
+
+20 Ps, exlvii. 12-14. 
+
+21 Rom. vi. 22. 
+
+22 He refers to the giant Cacus. 
+23 Æneid, viii. 195. 
+
+24 John viii. 44. 
+
+25 1 Tim. v. 8. 
+
+26 Gen. i. 26. 
+
+27 Servus, “a slave,” from servare, “to preserve.” 
+
+28 Dan. ix. 
+
+29 John viii. 34. 
+
+30 2 Pet. ii. 19. 
+
+31 The patriarchs. 
+
+32 1 Cor. xiii. 9. 
+
+33 Hab. ii. 4. 
+
+34 2 Cor. v. 6. 
+
+35 Ch. 6. 
+
+36 1 Tim. iii. 1. 
+
+37 Augustine’s words are: “ts quippe ’ super;’exexés vero, ‘intentio’ est: amoxexety si velimus, latine ’ 
+superintendere ’ possumus dicere.” 
+
+
+38 Ch. 21. 
+
+
+39 Ex. xxii. 20. 
+40 Gen. xxii. 18. 
+41 Ex. xxii. 20. 
+42 Ps. xcvi. 5. 
+
+
+43 Augustine here warns his readers against a possible misunderstanding of the Latin word for 
+
+
+“alone” (soli), which might be rendered “the sun.” 
+44 Ps, xvi. 2. 
+
+45 Ps. cxliv. 15. 
+
+46 1 Tim. ii. 2; var. reading, “purity.” 
+47 Jer. xxix. 7. 
+
+48 Matt. vi. 12. 
+
+49 Jas. ii. 17. 
+
+50 Gal. v. 6. 
+
+51 Wisdom ix. 15. 
+
+52 Job vii. 1. 
+
+53 Jas. iv. 6; 1 Pet. v. 5. 
+
+
+54 Gratia meritorum. 
+
+
+BOOK TWENTIETH 
+
+
+ARGUMENT 
+
+
+CONCERNING THE LAST JUDGMENT, AND THE DECLARATIONS REGARDING IT IN THE OLD AND NEW 
+TESTAMENTS. 
+
+
+1. That although God is always judging, it is nevertheless reasonable to confine our attention in 
+this book to His last Judgment 
+
+
+poo to speak, in dependence on God’s grace, of the day of His 
+final judgment, and to affirm it against the ungodly and incredulous, 
+we must first of all lay, as it were, in the foundation of the edifice the 
+divine declarations. Those persons who do not believe such declarations 
+do their best to oppose to them false and illusive sophisms of their own, 
+either contending that what is adduced from Scripture has another 
+meaning, or altogether denying that it is an utterance of God’s. For I 
+suppose no man who understands what is written, and believes it to be 
+communicated by the supreme and true God through holy men, refuses 
+to yield and consent to these declarations, whether he orally confesses 
+his consent, or is from some evil influence ashamed or afraid to do so; or 
+even, with an opinionativeness closely resembling madness, makes 
+strenuous efforts to defend what he knows and believes to be false 
+against what he knows and believes to be true. 
+
+That, therefore, which the whole Church of the true God holds and 
+professes as its creed, that Christ shall come from heaven to judge quick 
+and dead, this we call the last day, or last time, of the divine judgment. 
+For we do not know how many days this judgment may occupy; but no 
+one who reads the Scriptures, however negligently, need be told that in 
+them “day” is customarily used for “time.” And when we speak of the 
+day of God’s judgment, we add the word last or final for this reason, 
+because even now God judges, and has judged from the beginning of 
+human history, banishing from paradise, and excluding from the tree of 
+life, those first men who perpetrated so great a sin. Yea, He was certainly 
+
+
+exercising judgment also when He did not spare the angels who sinned, 
+whose prince, overcome by envy, seduced men after being himself 
+seduced. Neither is it without God’s profound and just judgment that the 
+life of demons and men, the one in the air, the other on earth, is filled 
+with misery, calamities, and mistakes. And even though no one had 
+sinned, it could only have been by the good and right judgment of God 
+that the whole rational creation could have been maintained in eternal 
+blessedness by a persevering adherence to its Lord. He judges, too, not 
+only in the mass, condemning the race of devils and the race of men to 
+be miserable on account of the original sin of these races, but He also 
+judges the voluntary and personal acts of individuals. For even the devils 
+pray that they may not be tormented,! which proves that without 
+injustice they might either be spared or tormented according to their 
+deserts. And men are punished by God for their sins often visibly, always 
+secretly, either in this life or after death, although no man acts rightly 
+save by the assistance of divine aid; and no man or devil acts 
+unrighteously save by the permission of the divine and most just 
+judgment. For, as the apostle says, “There is no unrighteousness with 
+God;”2 and as he elsewhere says, “His judgments are inscrutable, and His 
+ways past finding out.”3 In this book, then, I shall speak, as God permits, 
+not of those first judgments, nor of these intervening judgments of God, 
+but of the last judgment, when Christ is to come from heaven to judge 
+the quick and the dead. For that day is properly called the day of 
+judgment, because in it there shall be no room left for the ignorant 
+questioning why this wicked person is happy and that righteous man 
+unhappy. In that day true and full happiness shall be the lot of none but 
+the good, while deserved and supreme misery shall be the portion of the 
+wicked, and of them only. 
+
+
+2. That in the mingled web of human affairs God’s judgment is present, though it cannot be 
+discerned 
+
+
+In this present time we learn to bear with equanimity the ills to which 
+even good men are subject, and to hold cheap the blessings which even 
+the wicked enjoy. And consequently, even in those conditions of life in 
+which the justice of God is not apparent, His teaching is salutary. For we 
+do not know by what judgment of God this good man is poor and that 
+bad man rich; why he who, in our opinion, ought to suffer acutely for 
+
+
+his abandoned life enjoys himself, while sorrow pursues him whose 
+praiseworthy life leads us to suppose he should be happy; why the 
+innocent man is dismissed from the bar not only unavenged, but even 
+condemned, being either wronged by the iniquity of the judge, or 
+overwhelmed by false evidence, while his guilty adversary, on the other 
+hand, is not only discharged with impunity, but even has his claims 
+admitted; why the ungodly enjoys good health, while the godly pines in 
+sickness; why ruffians are of the soundest constitution, while they who 
+could not hurt any one even with a word are from infancy afflicted with 
+complicated disorders; why he who is useful to society is cut off by 
+premature death, while those who, as it might seem, ought never to have 
+been so much as born have lives of unusual length; why he who is full of 
+crimes is crowned with honours, while the blameless man is buried in 
+the darkness of neglect. But who can collect or enumerate all the 
+contrasts of this kind? But if this anomalous state of things were uniform 
+in this life, in which, as the sacred Psalmist says, “Man is like to vanity, 
+his days as a shadow that passeth away”4—so uniform that none but 
+wicked men won the transitory prosperity of earth, while only the good 
+suffered its ills—this could be referred to the just and even benign 
+judgment of God. We might suppose that they who were not destined to 
+obtain those everlasting benefits which constitute human blessedness 
+were either deluded by transitory blessings as the just reward of their 
+wickedness, or were, in God’s mercy, consoled by them, and that they 
+who were not destined to suffer eternal torments were afflicted with 
+temporal chastisement for their sins, or were stimulated to greater 
+attainment in virtue. But now, as it is, since we not only see good men 
+involved in the ills of life, and bad men enjoying the good of it, which 
+seems unjust, but also that evil often overtakes evil men, and good 
+surprises the good, the rather on this account are God’s judgments 
+unsearchable, and His ways past finding out. Although, therefore, we do 
+not know by what judgment these things are done or permitted to be 
+done by God, with whom is the highest virtue, the highest wisdom, the 
+highest justice, no infirmity, no rashness, no unrighteousness, yet it is 
+salutary for us to learn to hold cheap such things, be they good or evil, 
+as attach indifferently to good men and bad, and to covet those good 
+things which belong only to good men, and flee those evils which belong 
+only to evil men. But when we shall have come to that judgment, the 
+
+
+date of which is called peculiarly the day of judgment, and sometimes 
+the day of the Lord, we shall then recognise the justice of all God’s 
+judgments, not only of such as shall then be pronounced, but of all 
+which take effect from the beginning, or may take effect before that 
+time. And in that day we shall also recognise with what justice so many, 
+or almost all, the just judgments of God in the present life defy the 
+scrutiny of human sense or insight, though in this matter it is not 
+concealed from pious minds that what is concealed is just. 
+
+
+3. What Solomon, in the book of Ecclesiastes, says regarding the things which happen alike to 
+
+
+good and wicked men 
+
+
+Solomon, the wisest king of Israel, who reigned in Jerusalem, thus 
+commences the book called Ecclesiastes, which the Jews number among 
+their canonical Scriptures: “Vanity of vanities, said Ecclesiastes, vanity of 
+vanities; all is vanity. What profit hath a man of all his labour which he 
+hath taken under the sun?”5 And after going on to enumerate, with this 
+as his text, the calamities and delusions of this life, and the shifting 
+nature of the present time, in which there is nothing substantial, nothing 
+lasting, he bewails, among the other vanities that are under the sun, this 
+also, that though wisdom excelleth folly as light excelleth darkness, and 
+though the eyes of the wise man are in his head, while the fool walketh 
+in darkness,® yet one event happeneth to them all, that is to say, in this 
+life under the sun, unquestionably alluding to those evils which we see 
+befall good and bad men alike. He says, further, that the good suffer the 
+ills of life as if they were evil-doers, and the bad enjoy the good of life as 
+if they were good. “There is a vanity which is done upon the earth; that 
+there be just men unto whom it happeneth according to the work of the 
+wicked: again, there be wicked men, to whom it happeneth according to 
+the work of the righteous. I said, that this also is vanity.”” This wisest 
+man devoted this whole book to a full exposure of this vanity, evidently 
+with no other object than that we might long for that life in which there 
+is no vanity under the sun, but verity under Him who made the sun. In 
+this vanity, then, was it not by the just and righteous judgment of God 
+that man, made like to vanity, was destined to pass away? But in these 
+days of vanity it makes an important difference whether he resists or 
+yields to the truth, and whether he is destitute of true piety or a partaker 
+of it—important not so far as regards the acquirement of the blessings or 
+
+
+the evasion of the calamities of this transitory and vain life, but in 
+connection with the future judgment which shall make over to good men 
+good things, and to bad men bad things, in permanent, inalienable 
+possession. In fine, this wise man concludes this book of his by saying, 
+“Fear God, and keep His commandments: for this is every man. For God 
+shall bring every work into judgment, with every despised person, 
+whether it be good, or whether it be evil.”8 What truer, terser, more 
+salutary enouncement could be made? “Fear God,” he says, “and keep 
+His commandments: for this is every man.” For whosoever has real 
+existence, is this, is a keeper of God’s commandments; and he who is not 
+this, is nothing. For so long as he remains in the likeness of vanity, he is 
+not renewed in the image of the truth. “For God shall bring into 
+judgment every work “—that is, whatever man does in this life 
+—“whether it be good or whether it be evil, with every despised 
+person”—that is, with every man who here seems despicable, and is 
+therefore not considered; for God sees even him, and does not despise 
+him nor pass him over in His judgment. 
+
+
+4. That proofs of the last judgment will be adduced, first from the New Testament, and then 
+from the Old 
+
+
+The proofs, then, of this last judgment of God which I propose to 
+adduce shall be drawn first from the New Testament and then from the 
+Old. For although the Old Testament is prior in point of time, the New 
+has the precedence in intrinsic value; for the Old acts the part of herald 
+to the New. We shall therefore first cite passages from the New 
+Testament, and confirm them by quotations from the Old Testament. The 
+Old contains the law and the prophets, the New the gospel and the 
+apostolic epistles. Now the apostle says, “By the law is the knowledge of 
+sin. But now the righteousness of God without the law is manifested, 
+being witnessed by the law and the prophets; now the righteousness of 
+God is by faith of Jesus Christ upon all them that believe.”? This 
+righteousness of God belongs to the New Testament, and evidence for it 
+exists in the old books, that is to say, in the law and the prophets. I shall 
+first, then, state the case, and then call the witnesses. This order Jesus 
+Christ Himself directs us to observe, saying, “The scribe instructed in the 
+kingdom of God is like a good householder, bringing out of his treasure 
+things new and old.”!° He did not say “old and new,” which He certainly 
+
+
+would have said had He not wished to follow the order of merit rather 
+than that of time. 
+
+
+5. The passages in which the Saviour declares that there shall be a divine judgment in the end of 
+the world 
+
+
+The Saviour Himself, while reproving the cities in which He had done 
+great works, but which had not believed, and while setting them in 
+unfavourable comparison with foreign cities, says, “But I say unto you, It 
+shall be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon at the day of judgment than 
+for you.”!1 And a little after He says, “Verily, I say unto you, It shall be 
+more tolerable for the land of Sodom in the day of judgment than for 
+thee.”!2 Here He most plainly predicts that a day of judgment is to come. 
+And in another place He says, “The men of Nineveh shall rise in 
+judgment with this generation, and shall condemn it: because they 
+repented at the preaching of Jonas; and, behold, a greater than Jonas is 
+here. The queen of the south shall rise up in the judgment with this 
+generation, and shall condemn it: for she came from the uttermost parts 
+of the earth to hear the words of Solomon; and, behold, a greater than 
+Solomon is here.”!3 Two things we learn from this passage, that a 
+judgment is to take place, and that it is to take place at the resurrection 
+of the dead. For when He spoke of the Ninevites and the queen of the 
+south, He certainly spoke of dead persons, and yet He said that they 
+should rise up in the day of judgment. He did not say, “They shall 
+condemn,” as if they themselves were to be the judges, but because, in 
+comparison with them, the others shall be justly condemned. 
+
+Again, in another passage, in which He was speaking of the present 
+intermingling and future separation of the good and bad—the separation 
+which shall be made in the day of judgment—He adduced a comparison 
+drawn from the sown wheat and the tares sown among them, and gave 
+this explanation of it to His disciples: “He that soweth the good seed is 
+the Son of man,”!4 etc. Here, indeed, He did not name the judgment or 
+the day of judgment, but indicated it much more clearly by describing 
+the circumstances, and foretold that it should take place in the end of 
+the world. 
+
+In like manner He says to His disciples, “Verily I say unto you, That ye 
+which have followed me, in the regeneration, when the Son of man shall 
+sit on the throne of His glory, ye also shall sit upon twelve thrones, 
+
+
+judging the twelve tribes of Israel.”15 Here we learn that Jesus shall 
+judge with His disciples. And therefore He said elsewhere to the Jews, 
+“If I by Beelzebub cast out devils, by whom do your sons cast them out? 
+Therefore they shall be your judges.”1!© Neither ought we to suppose that 
+only twelve men shall judge along with Him, though He says that they 
+shall sit upon twelve thrones; for by the number twelve is signified the 
+completeness of the multitude of those who shall judge. For the two 
+parts of the number seven (which commonly symbolizes totality), that is 
+to say, four and three, multiplied into one another, give twelve. For four 
+times three, or three times four, are twelve. There are other meanings, 
+too, in this number twelve. Were not this the right interpretation of the 
+twelve thrones, then since we read that Matthias was ordained an 
+apostle in the room of Judas the traitor, the Apostle Paul, though he 
+laboured more than them all,!” should have no throne of judgment; but 
+he unmistakably considers himself to be included in the number of the 
+judges when he says, “Know ye not that we shall judge angels?”!8 The 
+same rule is to be observed in applying the number twelve to those who 
+are to be judged. For though it was said, “judging the twelve tribes of 
+Israel,” the tribe of Levi, which is the thirteenth, shall not on this 
+account be exempt from judgment, neither shall judgment be passed 
+only on Israel and not on the other nations. And by the words “in the 
+regeneration” He certainly meant the resurrection of the dead to be 
+understood; for our flesh shall be regenerated by incorruption, as our 
+soul is regenerated by faith. 
+
+Many passages I omit, because, though they seem to refer to the last 
+judgment, yet on a closer examination they are found to be ambiguous, 
+or to allude rather to some other event—whether to that coming of the 
+Saviour which continually occurs in His Church, that is, in His members, 
+in which He comes little by little, and piece by piece, since the whole 
+Church is His body, or to the destruction of the earthly Jerusalem. For 
+when He speaks even of this, He often uses language which is applicable 
+to the end of the world and that last and great day of judgment, so that 
+these two events cannot be distinguished unless all the corresponding 
+passages bearing on the subject in the three evangelists, Matthew, Mark, 
+and Luke, are compared with one another—for some things are put more 
+obscurely by one evangelist and more plainly by another—so that it 
+becomes apparent what things are meant to be referred to one event. It 
+
+
+is this which I have been at pains to do in a letter which I wrote to 
+Hesychius of blessed memory, bishop of Salon, and entitled, “Of the End 
+of the World.”19 
+
+I shall now cite from the Gospel according to Matthew the passage 
+which speaks of the separation of the good from the wicked by the most 
+efficacious and final judgment of Christ: “When the Son of man,” he 
+says, “shall come in His glory,... then shall He say also unto them on His 
+left hand, Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for 
+the devil and his angels.”20 Then He in like manner recounts to the 
+wicked the things they had not done, but which He had said those on the 
+right hand had done. And when they ask when they had seen Him in 
+need of these things, He replies that, inasmuch as they had not done it to 
+the least of His brethren, they had not done it unto Him, and concludes 
+His address in the words, “And these shall go away into everlasting 
+punishment, but the righteous into life eternal.” Moreover, the evangelist 
+John most distinctly states that He had predicted that the judgment 
+should be at the resurrection of the dead. For after saying, “The Father 
+judgeth no man, but hath committed all judgment unto the Son; that all 
+men should honour the Son, even as they honour the Father: he that 
+honoureth not the Son, honoureth not the Father which hath sent Him;” 
+He immediately adds, “Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that heareth my 
+word and believeth on Him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall 
+not come into judgment; but is passed from death to life.”21 Here He said 
+that believers on Him should not come into judgment. How, then, shall 
+they be separated from the wicked by judgment, and be set at His right 
+hand, unless judgment be in this passage used for condemnation? For 
+into judgment, in this sense, they shall not come who hear His word, and 
+believe on Him that sent Him. 
+
+
+6. What is the first resurrection, and what the second 
+
+
+After that He adds the words, “Verily, verily, I say unto you, The hour 
+is coming, and now is, when the dead shall hear the voice of the Son of 
+God; and they that hear shall live. For as the Father hath life in Himself; 
+so hath He given to the Son to have life in Himself.”22 As yet He does 
+not speak of the second resurrection, that is, the resurrection of the 
+body, which shall be in the end, but of the first, which now is. It is for 
+
+
+the sake of making this distinction that He says, “The hour is coming, 
+and now is.” Now this resurrection regards not the body, but the soul. 
+For souls, too, have a death of their own in wickedness and sins, 
+whereby they are the dead of whom the same lips say, “Suffer the dead 
+to bury their dead”23—that is, let those who are dead in soul bury them 
+that are dead in body. It is of these dead, then—the dead in ungodliness 
+and wickedness—that He says, “The hour is coming, and now is, when 
+the dead shall hear the voice of the Son of God; and they that hear shall 
+live.” “They that hear,” that is, they who obey, believe, and persevere to 
+the end. Here no difference is made between the good and the bad. For 
+it is good for all men to hear His voice and live, by passing to the life of 
+godliness from the death of ungodliness. Of this death the Apostle Paul 
+say, “Therefore all are dead, and He died for all, that they which live 
+should not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto Him which died for 
+them and rose again.”2* Thus all, without one exception, were dead in 
+sins, whether original or voluntary sins, sins of ignorance, or sins 
+committed against knowledge; and for all the dead there died the one 
+only person who lived, that is, who had no sin whatever, in order that 
+they who live by the remission of their sins should live, not to 
+themselves, but to Him who died for all, for our sins, and rose again for 
+our justification, that we, believing in Him who justifies the ungodly, 
+and being justified from ungodliness or quickened from death, may be 
+able to attain to the first resurrection which now is. For in this first 
+resurrection none have a part save those who shall be eternally blessed; 
+but in the second, of which He goes on to speak, all, as we shall learn, 
+have a part, both the blessed and the wretched. The one is the 
+resurrection of mercy, the other of judgment. And therefore it is written 
+in the psalm, “I will sing of mercy and of judgment: unto Thee, O Lord, 
+will I sing.”25 
+
+And of this judgment He went on to say, “And hath given Him 
+authority to execute judgment also, because He is the Son of man.” Here 
+He shows that He will come to judge in that flesh in which He had come 
+to be judged. For it is to show this He says, “because He is the Son of 
+man.” And then follow the words for our purpose: “Marvel not at this: 
+for the hour is coming, in the which all that are in the graves shall hear 
+His voice, and shall come forth; they that have done good, unto the 
+resurrection of life; and they that have done evil, unto the resurrection 
+
+
+of judgment.”26 This judgment He uses here in the same sense as a little 
+before, when He says, “He that heareth my word, and believeth on Him 
+that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into judgment, but 
+is passed from death to life;” ie., by having a part in the first 
+resurrection, by which a transition from death to life is made in this 
+present time, he shall not come into damnation, which He mentions by 
+the name of judgment, as also in the place where He says, “but they that 
+have done evil unto the resurrection of judgment,” i.e. of damnation. He, 
+therefore, who would not be damned in the second resurrection, let him 
+rise in the first. For “the hour is coming, and now is, when the dead shall 
+hear the voice of the Son of God; and they that hear shall live,” ie. shall 
+not come into damnation, which is called the second death; into which 
+death, after the second or bodily resurrection, they shall be hurled who 
+do not rise in the first or spiritual resurrection. For “the hour is coming” 
+(but here He does not say, “and now is,” because it shall come in the end 
+of the world in the last and greatest judgment of God) “when all that are 
+in the graves shall hear His voice and shall come forth.” He does not say, 
+as in the first resurrection, “And they that hear shall live.” For all shall 
+not live, at least with such life as ought alone to be called life because it 
+alone is blessed. For some kind of life they must have in order to hear, 
+and come forth from the graves in their rising bodies. And why all shall 
+not live He teaches in the words that follow: “They that have done good, 
+to the resurrection of life’—these are they who shall live; “but they that 
+have done evil, to the resurrection of judgment”—these are they who 
+shall not live, for they shall die in the second death. They have done evil 
+because their life has been evil; and their life has been evil because it 
+has not been renewed in the first or spiritual resurrection which now is, 
+or because they have not persevered to the end in their renewed life. As, 
+then, there are two regenerations, of which I have already made mention 
+—the one according to faith, and which takes place in the present life by 
+means of baptism; the other according to the flesh, and which shall be 
+accomplished in its incorruption and immortality by means of the great 
+and final judgment—so are there also two resurrections—the one the 
+first and spiritual resurrection, which has place in this life, and preserves 
+us from coming into the second death; the other the second, which does 
+not occur now, but in the end of the world, and which is of the body, not 
+of the soul, and which by the last judgment shall dismiss some into the 
+
+
+second death, others into that life which has no death. 
+
+
+7. What is written in the Revelation of John regarding the two resurrections, and the thousand 
+
+
+years, and what may reasonably be held on these points 
+
+
+The evangelist John has spoken of these two resurrections in the book 
+which is called the Apocalypse, but in such a way that some Christians 
+do not understand the first of the two, and so construe the passage into 
+ridiculous fancies. For the Apostle John says in the foresaid book, “And I 
+saw an angel come down from heaven.... Blessed and holy is he that 
+hath part in the first resurrection: on such the second death hath no 
+power; but they shall be priests of God and of Christ, and shall reign 
+with Him a thousand years.”27 Those who, on the strength of this 
+passage, have suspected that the first resurrection is future and bodily, 
+have been moved, among other things, specially by the number of a 
+thousand years, as if it were a fit thing that the saints should thus enjoy 
+a kind of Sabbath-rest during that period, a holy leisure after the labours 
+of the six thousand years since man was created, and was on account of 
+his great sin dismissed from the blessedness of paradise into the woes of 
+this mortal life, so that thus, as it is written, “One day is with the Lord as 
+a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day,”28 there should 
+follow on the completion of six thousand years, as of six days, a kind of 
+seventh-day Sabbath in the succeeding thousand years; and that it is for 
+this purpose the saints rise, viz: to celebrate this Sabbath. And this 
+opinion would not be objectionable, if it were believed that the joys of 
+the saints in that Sabbath shall be spiritual, and consequent on the 
+presence of God; for I myself, too, once held this opinion.29 But, as they 
+assert that those who then rise again shall enjoy the leisure of 
+immoderate carnal banquets, furnished with an amount of meat and 
+drink such as not only to shock the feeling of the temperate, but even to 
+surpass the measure of credulity itself, such assertions can be believed 
+only by the carnal. They who do believe them are called by the spiritual 
+Chiliasts, which we may literally reproduce by the name Millenarians.3° 
+It were a tedious process to refute these opinions point by point: we 
+prefer proceeding to show how that passage of Scripture should be 
+understood. 
+
+The Lord Jesus Christ Himself says, “No man can enter into a strong 
+man’s house, and spoil his goods, except he first bind the strong man”31 
+
+
+—meaning by the strong man the devil, because he had power to take 
+captive the human race; and meaning by his goods which he was to take, 
+those who had been held by the devil in divers sins and iniquities, but 
+were to become believers in Himself. It was then for the binding of this 
+strong one that the apostle saw in the Apocalypse “an angel coming 
+down from heaven, having the key of the abyss, and a chain in his hand. 
+And he laid hold,” he says, “on the dragon, that old serpent, which is 
+called the devil and Satan, and bound him a thousand years”—that is, 
+bridled and restrained his power so that he could not seduce and gain 
+possession of those who were to be freed. Now the thousand years may 
+be understood in two ways, so far as occurs to me: either because these 
+things happen in the sixth thousand of years or sixth millennium (the 
+latter part of which is now passing), as if during the sixth day, which is 
+to be followed by a Sabbath which has no evening, the endless rest of 
+the saints, so that, speaking of a part under the name of the whole, he 
+calls the last part of the millennium—the part, that is, which had yet to 
+expire before the end of the world—a thousand years; or he used the 
+thousand years as an equivalent for the whole duration of this world, 
+employing the number of perfection to mark the fulness of time. For a 
+thousand is the cube of ten. For ten times ten makes a hundred, that is, 
+the square on a plane superficies. But to give this superficies height, and 
+make it a cube, the hundred is again multiplied by ten, which gives a 
+thousand. Besides, if a hundred is sometimes used for totality, as when 
+the Lord said by way of promise to him that left all and followed Him, 
+“He shall receive in this world an hundredfold;”32 of which the apostle 
+gives, as it were, an explanation when he says, “As having nothing, yet 
+possessing all things”33—for even of old it had been said, The whole 
+world is the wealth of a believer—with how much greater reason is a 
+thousand put for totality since it is the cube, while the other is only the 
+square? And for the same reason we cannot better interpret the words of 
+the psalm, “He hath been mindful of His covenant for ever, the word 
+which He commanded to a thousand generations,”34 than by 
+understanding it to mean “to all generations.” 
+
+“And he cast him into the abyss”—ie. cast the devil into the abyss. By 
+the abyss is meant the countless multitude of the wicked whose hearts 
+are unfathomably deep in malignity against the Church of God; not that 
+the devil was not there before, but he is said to be cast in thither, 
+
+
+because, when prevented from harming believers, he takes more 
+complete possession of the ungodly. For that man is more abundantly 
+possessed by the devil who is not only alienated from God, but also 
+gratuitously hates those who serve God. “And shut him up, and set a seal 
+upon him, that he should deceive the nations no more till the thousand 
+years should be fulfilled.” “Shut him up”—ie. prohibited him from going 
+out, from doing what was forbidden. And the addition of “set a seal 
+upon him” seems to me to mean that it was designed to keep it a secret 
+who belonged to the devil’s party and who did not. For in this world this 
+is a secret, for we cannot tell whether even the man who seems to stand 
+shall fall, or whether he who seems to lie shall rise again. But by the 
+chain and prisonhouse of this interdict the devil is prohibited and 
+restrained from seducing those nations which belong to Christ, but 
+which he formerly seduced or held in subjection. For before the 
+foundation of the world God chose to rescue these from the power of 
+darkness, and to translate them into the kingdom of the Son of His love, 
+as the apostle says.35 For what Christian is not aware that he seduces 
+nations even now, and draws them with himself to eternal punishment, 
+but not those predestined to eternal life? And let no one be dismayed by 
+the circumstance that the devil often seduces even those who have been 
+regenerated in Christ, and begun to walk in God’s way. For “the Lord 
+knoweth them that are His,”36 and of these the devil seduces none to 
+eternal damnation. For it is as God, from whom nothing is hid even of 
+things future, that the Lord knows them; not as a man, who sees a man 
+at the present time (if he can be said to see one whose heart he does not 
+see), but does not see even himself so far as to be able to know what 
+kind of person he is to be. The devil, then, is bound and shut up in the 
+abyss that he may not seduce the nations from which the Church is 
+gathered, and which he formerly seduced before the Church existed. For 
+it is not said “that he should not seduce any man,” but “that he should 
+not seduce the nations”—meaning, no doubt, those among which the 
+Church exists—“till the thousand years should be fulfilled”—ie. either 
+what remains of the sixth day which consists of a thousand years, or all 
+the years which are to elapse till the end of the world. 
+
+The words, “that he should not seduce the nations till the thousand 
+years should be fulfilled,” are not to be understood as indicating that 
+afterwards he is to seduce only those nations from which the predestined 
+
+
+Church is composed, and from seducing whom he is restrained by that 
+chain and imprisonment; but they are used in conformity with that 
+usage frequently employed in Scripture and exemplified in the psalm, 
+“So our eyes wait upon the Lord our God, until He have mercy upon 
+us”37—not as if the eyes of His servants would no longer wait upon the 
+Lord their God when He had mercy upon them. Or the order of the 
+words is unquestionably this, “And he shut him up and set a seal upon 
+him, till the thousand years should be fulfilled;” and the interposed 
+clause, “that he should seduce the nations no more,” is not to be 
+understood in the connection in which it stands, but separately, and as if 
+added afterwards, so that the whole sentence might be read, “And He 
+shut him up and set a seal upon him till the thousand years should be 
+fulfilled, that he should seduce the nations no more”—ie. he is shut up 
+till the thousand years be fulfilled, on this account, that he may no more 
+deceive the nations. 
+
+
+8. Of the binding and loosing of the devil 
+
+
+“After that,” says John, “he must be loosed a little season.” If the 
+binding and shutting up of the devil means his being made unable to 
+seduce the Church, must his loosing be the recovery of this ability? By 
+no means. For the Church predestined and elected before the foundation 
+of the world, the Church of which it is said, “The Lord knoweth them 
+that are His,” shall never be seduced by him. And yet there shall be a 
+Church in this world even when the devil shall be loosed, as there has 
+been since the beginning, and shall be always, the places of the dying 
+being filled by new believers. For a little after John says that the devil, 
+being loosed, shall draw the nations whom he has seduced in the whole 
+world to make war against the Church, and that the number of these 
+enemies shall be as the sand of the sea. “And they went up on the 
+breadth of the earth, and compassed the camp of the saints about, and 
+the beloved city: and fire came down from God out of heaven and 
+devoured them. And the devil who seduced them was cast into the lake 
+of fire and brimstone, where the beast and the false prophet are, and 
+shall be tormented day and night for ever and ever.”38 This relates to the 
+last judgment, but I have thought fit to mention it now, lest any one 
+might suppose that in that short time during which the devil shall be 
+
+
+loose there shall be no Church upon earth, whether because the devil 
+finds no Church, or destroys it by manifold persecutions. The devil, then, 
+is not bound during the whole time which this book embraces—that is, 
+from the first coming of Christ to the end of the world, when He shall 
+come the second time—not bound in this sense, that during this interval, 
+which goes by the name of a thousand years, he shall not seduce the 
+Church, for not even when loosed shall he seduce it. For certainly if his 
+being bound means that he is not able or not permitted to seduce the 
+Church, what can the loosing of him mean but his being able or 
+permitted to do so? But God forbid that such should be the case! But the 
+binding of the devil is his being prevented from the exercise of his whole 
+power to seduce men, either by violently forcing or fraudulently 
+deceiving them into taking part with him. If he were during so long a 
+period permitted to assail the weakness of men, very many persons, such 
+as God would not wish to expose to such temptation, would have their 
+faith overthrown, or would be prevented from believing; and that this 
+might not happen, he is bound. 
+
+But when the short time comes he shall be loosed. For he shall rage 
+with the whole force of himself and his angels for three years and six 
+months; and those with whom he makes war shall have power to 
+withstand all his violence and stratagems. And if he were never loosed, 
+his malicious power would be less patent, and less proof would be given 
+of the stedfast fortitude of the holy city: it would, in short, be less 
+manifest what good use the Almighty makes of his great evil. For the 
+Almighty does not absolutely seclude the saints from his temptation, but 
+shelters only their inner man, where faith resides, that by outward 
+temptation they may grow in grace. And He binds him that he may not, 
+in the free and eager exercise of his malice, hinder or destroy the faith of 
+those countless weak persons, already believing or yet to believe, from 
+whom the Church must be increased and completed; and he will in the 
+end loose him, that the city of God may see how mighty an adversary it 
+has conquered, to the great glory of its Redeemer, Helper, Deliverer. And 
+what are we in comparison with those believers and saints who shall 
+then exist, seeing that they shall be tested by the loosing of an enemy 
+with whom we make war at the greatest peril even when he is bound? 
+Although it is also certain that even in this intervening period there have 
+been and are some soldiers of Christ so wise and strong, that if they were 
+
+
+to be alive in this mortal condition at the time of his loosing, they would 
+both most wisely guard against, and most patiently endure, all his snares 
+and assaults. 
+
+Now the devil was thus bound not only when the Church began to be 
+more and more widely extended among the nations beyond Judea, but is 
+now and shall be bound till the end of the world, when he is to be 
+loosed. Because even now men are, and doubtless to the end of the 
+world shall be, converted to the faith from the unbelief in which he held 
+them. And this strong one is bound in each instance in which he is 
+spoiled of one of his goods; and the abyss in which he is shut up is not at 
+an end when those die who were alive when first he was shut up in it, 
+but these have been succeeded, and shall to the end of the world be 
+succeeded, by others born after them with a like hate of the Christians, 
+and in the depth of whose blind hearts he is continually shut up as in an 
+abyss. But it is a question whether, during these three years and six 
+months when he shall be loose, and raging with all his force, any one 
+who has not previously believed shall attach himself to the faith. For 
+how in that case would the words hold good, “Who entereth into the 
+house of a strong one to spoil his goods, unless first he shall have bound 
+the strong one?” Consequently this verse seems to compel us to believe 
+that during that time, short as it is, no one will be added to the Christian 
+community, but that the devil will make war with those who have 
+previously become Christians, and that, though some of these may be 
+conquered and desert to the devil, these do not belong to the 
+predestinated number of the sons of God. For it is not without reason 
+that John, the same apostle as wrote this Apocalypse, says in his epistle 
+regarding certain persons, “They went out from us, but they were not of 
+us; for if they had been of us, they would no doubt have remained with 
+us.”39 But what shall become of the little ones? For it is beyond all belief 
+that in these days there shall not be found some Christian children born, 
+but not yet baptized, and that there shall not also be some born during 
+that very period; and if there be such, we cannot believe that their 
+parents shall not find some way of bringing them to the laver of 
+regeneration. But if this shall be the case, how shall these goods be 
+snatched from the devil when he is loose, since into his house no man 
+enters to spoil his goods unless he has first bound him? On the contrary, 
+we are rather to believe that in these days there shall be no lack either of 
+
+
+those who fall away from, or of those who attach themselves to the 
+Church; but there shall be such resoluteness, both in parents to seek 
+baptism for their little ones, and in those who shall then first believe, 
+that they shall conquer that strong one, even though unbound—that is, 
+shall both vigilantly comprehend, and patiently bear up against him, 
+though employing such wiles and putting forth such force as he never 
+before used; and thus they shall be snatched from him even though 
+unbound. And yet the verse of the Gospel will not be untrue, “Who 
+entereth into the house of the strong one to spoil his goods, unless he 
+shall first have bound the strong one?” For in accordance with this true 
+saying that order is observed—the strong one first bound, and then his 
+goods spoiled; for the Church is so increased by the weak and strong 
+from all nations far and near, that by its most robust faith in things 
+divinely predicted and accomplished, it shall be able to spoil the goods 
+of even the unbound devil. For as we must own that, “when iniquity 
+abounds, the love of many waxes cold,”49 and that those who have not 
+been written in the book of life shall in large numbers yield to the severe 
+and unprecedented persecutions and stratagems of the devil now loosed, 
+so we cannot but think that not only those whom that time shall find 
+sound in the faith, but also some who till then shall be without, shall 
+become firm in the faith they have hitherto rejected, and mighty to 
+conquer the devil even though unbound, God’s grace aiding them to 
+understand the Scriptures, in which, among other things, there is 
+foretold that very end which they themselves see to be arriving. And if 
+this shall be so, his binding is to be spoken of as preceding, that there 
+might follow a spoiling of him both bound and loosed; for it is of this it 
+is said, “Who shall enter into the house of the strong one to spoil his 
+goods, unless he shall first have bound the strong one?” 
+
+
+9. What the reign of the saints with Christ for a thousand years is, and how it differs from the 
+
+
+eternal kingdom 
+
+
+But while the devil is bound, the saints reign with Christ during the 
+same thousand years, understood in the same way, that is, of the time of 
+His first coming.4! For, leaving out of account that kingdom concerning 
+which He shall say in the end, “Come, ye blessed of my Father, take 
+possession of the kingdom prepared for you,”42 the Church could not 
+now be called His kingdom or the kingdom of heaven unless His saints 
+
+
+were even now reigning with Him, though in another and far different 
+way; for to His saints He says, “Lo, I am with you always, even to the 
+end of the world.”43 Certainly it is in this present time that the scribe 
+well instructed in the kingdom of God, and of whom we have already 
+spoken, brings forth from his treasure things new and old. And from the 
+Church those reapers shall gather out the tares which He suffered to 
+grow with the wheat till the harvest, as He explains in the words, “The 
+harvest is the end of the world; and the reapers are the angels. As 
+therefore the tares are gathered together and burned with fire, so shall it 
+be in the end of the world. The Son of man shall send His angels, and 
+they shall gather out of His kingdom all offences.”44 Can He mean out of 
+that kingdom in which are no offences? Then it must be out of His 
+present kingdom, the Church, that they are gathered. So He says, “He 
+that breaketh one of the least of these commandments, and teacheth 
+men so, shall be called least in the kingdom of heaven: but he that doeth 
+and teacheth thus shall be called great in the kingdom of heaven.”45 He 
+speaks of both as being in the kingdom of heaven, both the man who 
+does not perform the commandments which He teaches—for “to break” 
+means not to keep, not to perform—and the man who does and teaches 
+as He did; but the one He calls least, the other great. And He 
+immediately adds, “For I say unto you, that except your righteousness 
+exceed that of the scribes and Pharisees”—that is, the righteousness of 
+those who break what they teach; for of the scribes and Pharisees He 
+elsewhere says, “For they say and do not;”46—unless, therefore, your 
+righteousness exceed theirs, that is, so that you do not break but rather 
+do what you teach, “ye shall not enter the kingdom of heaven.”4”7 We 
+must understand in one sense the kingdom of heaven in which exist 
+together both he who breaks what he teaches and he who does it, the 
+one being least, the other great, and in another sense the kingdom of 
+heaven into which only he who does what he teaches shall enter. 
+Consequently, where both classes exist, it is the Church as it now is, but 
+where only the one shall exist, it is the Church as it is destined to be 
+when no wicked person shall be in her. Therefore the Church even now 
+is the kingdom of Christ, and the kingdom of heaven. Accordingly, even 
+now His saints reign with Him, though otherwise than as they shall reign 
+hereafter; and yet, though the tares grow in the Church along with the 
+wheat, they do not reign with Him. For they reign with Him who do 
+
+
+what the apostle says, “If ye be risen with Christ, mind the things which 
+are above, where Christ sitteth at the right hand of God. Seek those 
+things which are above, not the things which are on the earth.”48 Of 
+such persons he also says that their conversation is in heaven.*9 In fine, 
+they reign with Him who are so in His kingdom that they themselves are 
+His kingdom. But in what sense are those the kingdom of Christ who, to 
+say no more, though they are in it until all offences are gathered out of it 
+at the end of the world, yet seek their own things in it, and not the 
+things that are Christ’s?50 
+
+It is then of this kingdom militant, in which conflict with the enemy is 
+still maintained, and war carried on with warring lusts, or government 
+laid upon them as they yield, until we come to that most peaceful 
+kingdom in which we shall reign without an enemy, and it is of this first 
+resurrection in the present life, that the Apocalypse speaks in the words 
+just quoted. For, after saying that the devil is bound a thousand years 
+and is afterwards loosed for a short season, it goes on to give a sketch of 
+what the Church does or of what is done in the Church in those days, in 
+the words, “And I saw seats and them that sat upon them, and judgment 
+was given.” It is not to be supposed that this refers to the last judgment, 
+but to the seats of the rulers and to the rulers themselves by whom the 
+Church is now governed. And no better interpretation of judgment being 
+given can be produced than that which we have in the words, “What ye 
+bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and what ye loose on earth shall 
+be loosed in heaven.”5! Whence the apostle says, “What have I to do 
+with judging them that are without? do not ye judge them that are 
+within?”52 “And the souls,” says John, “of those who were slain for the 
+testimony of Jesus and for the word of God”—understanding what he 
+afterwards says, “reigned with Christ a thousand years”53—that is, the 
+souls of the martyrs not yet restored to their bodies. For the souls of the 
+pious dead are not separated from the Church, which even now is the 
+kingdom of Christ; otherwise there would be no remembrance made of 
+them at the altar of God in the partaking of the body of Christ, nor 
+would it do any good in danger to run to His baptism, that we might not 
+pass from this life without it; nor to reconciliation, if by penitence or a 
+bad conscience any one may be severed from His body. For why are 
+these things practised, if not because the faithful, even though dead, are 
+His members? Therefore, while these thousand years run on, their souls 
+
+
+reign with Him, though not as yet in conjunction with their bodies. And 
+therefore in another part of this same book we read, “Blessed are the 
+dead who die in the Lord from henceforth: and now, saith the Spirit, that 
+they may rest from their labours; for their works do follow them.”54 The 
+Church, then, begins its reign with Christ now in the living and in the 
+dead. For, as the apostle says, “Christ died that He might be Lord both of 
+the living and of the dead.”55 But he mentioned the souls of the martyrs 
+only, because they who have contended even to death for the truth, 
+themselves principally reign after death; but, taking the part for the 
+whole, we understand the words of all others who belong to the Church, 
+which is the kingdom of Christ. 
+
+As to the words following, “And if any have not worshipped the beast 
+nor his image, nor have received his inscription on their forehead, or on 
+their hand,” we must take them of both the living and the dead. And 
+what this beast is, though it requires a more careful investigation, yet it 
+is not inconsistent with the true faith to understand it of the ungodly city 
+itself, and the community of unbelievers set in opposition to the faithful 
+people and the city of God. “His image” seems to me to mean his 
+simulation, to wit, in those men who profess to believe, but live as 
+unbelievers. For they pretend to be what they are not, and are called 
+Christians, not from a true likeness, but from a deceitful image. For to 
+this beast belong not only the avowed enemies of the name of Christ and 
+His most glorious city, but also the tares which are to be gathered out of 
+His kingdom, the Church, in the end of the world. And who are they 
+who do not worship the beast and his image, if not those who do what 
+the apostle says, “Be not yoked with unbelievers?”56 For such do not 
+worship, ie. do not consent, are not subjected; neither do they receive 
+the inscription, the brand of crime, on their forehead by their profession, 
+on their hand by their practice. They, then, who are free from these 
+pollutions, whether they still live in this mortal flesh, or are dead, reign 
+with Christ even now, through this whole interval which is indicated by 
+the thousand years, in a fashion suited to this time. 
+
+“The rest of them,” he says, “did not live.” For now is the hour when 
+the dead shall hear the voice of the Son of God, and they that hear shall 
+live; and the rest of them shall not live. The words added, “until the 
+thousand years are finished,” mean that they did not live in the time in 
+which they ought to have lived by passing from death to life. And 
+
+
+therefore, when the day of the bodily resurrection arrives, they shall 
+come out of their graves, not to life, but to judgment, namely, to 
+damnation, which is called the second death. For whosoever has not 
+lived until the thousand years be finished, ie. during this whole time in 
+which the first resurrection is going on—whosoever has not heard the 
+voice of the Son of God, and passed from death to life—that man shall 
+certainly in the second resurrection, the resurrection of the flesh, pass 
+with his flesh into the second death. For he goes on to say, “This is the 
+first resurrection. Blessed and holy is he that hath part in the first 
+resurrection,” or who experiences it. Now he experiences it who not only 
+revives from the death of sin, but continues in this renewed life. “In 
+these the second death hath no power.” Therefore it has power in the 
+rest, of whom he said above, “The rest of them did not live until the 
+thousand years were finished;” for in this whole intervening time, called 
+a thousand years, however lustily they lived in the body, they were not 
+quickened to life out of that death in which their wickedness held them, 
+so that by this revived life they should become partakers of the first 
+resurrection, and so the second death should have no power over them. 
+
+
+10. What is to be replied to those who think that resurrection pertains only to bodies and not to 
+
+
+souls 
+
+
+There are some who suppose that resurrection can be predicated only 
+of the body, and therefore they contend that this first resurrection (of 
+the Apocalypse) is a bodily resurrection. For, say they, “to rise again” 
+can only be said of things that fall. Now, bodies fall in death.5”7 There 
+cannot, therefore be a resurrection of souls, but of bodies. But what do 
+they say to the apostle who speaks of a resurrection of souls? For 
+certainly it was in the inner and not the outer man that those had risen 
+again to whom he says, “If ye have risen with Christ, mind the things 
+that are above.”58 The same sense he elsewhere conveyed in other 
+words, saying, “That as Christ has risen from the dead by the glory of the 
+Father, so we also may walk in newness of life.”59 So, too, “Awake thou 
+that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light.”6° 
+As to what they say about nothing being able to rise again but what 
+falls, whence they conclude that resurrection pertains to bodies only, 
+and not to souls, because bodies fall, why do they make nothing of the 
+words, “Ye that fear the Lord, wait for His mercy; and go not aside lest 
+
+
+ye fall;”61 and “To his own Master he stands or falls;”62 and “He that 
+thinketh he standeth, let him take heed lest he fall?”63 For I fancy this 
+fall that we are to take heed against is a fall of the soul, not of the body. 
+If, then, rising again belongs to things that fall, and souls fall, it must be 
+owned that souls also rise again. To the words, “In them the second 
+death hath no power,” are added the words, “but they shall be priests of 
+God and Christ, and shall reign with Him a thousand years;” and this 
+refers not to the bishops alone, and presbyters, who are now specially 
+called priests in the Church; but as we call all believers Christians on 
+account of the mystical chrism, so we call all priests because they are 
+members of the one Priest. Of them the Apostle Peter says, “A holy 
+people, a royal priesthood.”6* Certainly he implied, though in a passing 
+and incidental way, that Christ is God, saying priests of God and Christ, 
+that is, of the Father and the Son, though it was in His servant-form and 
+as Son of man that Christ was made a Priest for ever after the order of 
+Melchizedek. But this we have already explained more than once. 
+
+
+11. Of Gog and Magog, who are to be roused by the devil to persecute the Church, when he is 
+loosed in the end of the world 
+
+
+“And when the thousand years are finished, Satan shall be loosed from 
+his prison, and shall go out to seduce the nations which are in the four 
+corners of the earth, Gog and Magog, and shall draw them to battle, 
+whose number is as the sand of the sea.” This, then, is his purpose in 
+seducing them, to draw them to this battle. For even before this he was 
+wont to use as many and various seductions as he could contrive. And 
+the words, “he shall go out” mean, he shall burst forth from lurking 
+hatred into open persecution. For this persecution, occurring while the 
+final judgment is imminent, shall be the last which shall be endured by 
+the holy Church throughout the world, the whole city of Christ being 
+assailed by the whole city of the devil, as each exists on earth. For these 
+nations which he names Gog and Magog are not to be understood of 
+some barbarous nations in some part of the world, whether the Getz and 
+Massageteze, as some conclude from the initial letters, or some other 
+foreign nations not under the Roman government. For John marks that 
+they are spread over the whole earth, when he says, “The nations which 
+are in the four corners of the earth,” and he added that these are Gog 
+and Magog. The meaning of these names we find to be, Gog, “a roof,” 
+
+
+Magog, “from a roof’—a house, as it were, and he who comes out of the 
+house. They are therefore the nations in which we found that the devil 
+was shut up as in an abyss, and the devil himself coming out from them 
+and going forth, so that they are the roof, he from the roof. Or if we 
+refer both words to the nations, not one to them and one to the devil, 
+then they are both the roof, because in them the old enemy is at present 
+shut up, and as it were roofed in; and they shall be from the roof when 
+they break forth from concealed to open hatred. The words, “And they 
+went up on the breadth of the earth, and encompassed the camp of the 
+saints and the beloved city,” do not mean that they have come, or shall 
+come, to one place, as if the camp of the saints and the beloved city 
+should be in some one place; for this camp is nothing else than the 
+Church of Christ extending over the whole world. And consequently 
+wherever the Church shall be—and it shall be in all nations, as is 
+signified by “the breadth of the earth”—there also shall be the camp of 
+the saints and the beloved city, and there it shall be encompassed by the 
+savage persecution of all its enemies; for they too shall exist along with 
+it in all nations—that is, it shall be straitened, and hard pressed, and 
+shut up in the straits of tribulation, but shall not desert its military duty, 
+which is signified by the word “camp.” 
+
+
+12. Whether the fire that came down out of heaven and devoured them refers to the last 
+
+
+punishment of the wicked 
+
+
+The words, “And fire came down out of heaven and devoured them,” 
+are not to be understood of the final punishment which shall be inflicted 
+when it is said, “Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire;”6> for 
+then they shall be cast into the fire, not fire come down out of heaven 
+upon them. In this place “fire out of heaven” is well understood of the 
+firmness of the saints, wherewith they refuse to yield obedience to those 
+who rage against them. For the firmament is “heaven,” by whose 
+firmness these assailants shall be pained with blazing zeal, for they shall 
+be impotent to draw away the saints to the party of Antichrist. This is 
+the fire which shall devour them, and this is “from God;” for it is by 
+God’s grace the saints become unconquerable, and so torment their 
+enemies. For as in a good sense it is said, “The zeal of Thine house hath 
+consumed me,”6 so in a bad sense it is said, “Zeal hath possessed the 
+
+
+uninstructed people, and now fire shall consume the enemies,”67 “And 
+now,” that is to say, not the fire of the last judgment. Or if by this fire 
+coming down out of heaven and consuming them, John meant that blow 
+wherewith Christ in His coming is to strike those persecutors of the 
+Church whom He shall then find alive upon earth, when He shall kill 
+Antichrist with the breath of His mouth,©68 then even this is not the last 
+judgment of the wicked; but the last judgment is that which they shall 
+suffer when the bodily resurrection has taken place. 
+
+
+13. Whether the time of the persecution of Antichrist should be reckoned in the thousand years 
+
+
+This last persecution by Antichrist shall last for three years and six 
+months, as we have already said, and as is affirmed both in the book of 
+Revelation and by Daniel the prophet. Though this time is brief, yet not 
+without reason is it questioned whether it is comprehended in the 
+thousand years in which the devil is bound and the saints reign with 
+Christ, or whether this little season should be added over and above to 
+these years. For if we say that they are included in the thousand years, 
+then the saints reign with Christ during a more protracted period than 
+the devil is bound. For they shall reign with their King and Conqueror 
+mightily even in that crowning persecution when the devil shall now be 
+unbound and shall rage against them with all his might. How then does 
+Scripture define both the binding of the devil and the reign of the saints 
+by the same thousand years, if the binding of the devil ceases three years 
+and six months before this reign of the saints with Christ? On the other 
+hand, if we say that the brief space of this persecution is not to be 
+reckoned as a part of the thousand years, but rather as an additional 
+period, we shall indeed be able to interpret the words, “The priests of 
+God and of Christ shall reign with Him a thousand years; and when the 
+thousand years shall be finished, Satan shall be loosed out of his prison;” 
+for thus they signify that the reign of the saints and the bondage of the 
+devil shall cease simultaneously, so that the time of the persecution we 
+speak of should be contemporaneous neither with the reign of the saints 
+nor with the imprisonment of Satan, but should be reckoned over and 
+above as a superadded portion of time. But then in this case we are 
+forced to admit that the saints shall not reign with Christ during that 
+persecution. But who can dare to say that His members shall not reign 
+
+
+with Him at that very juncture when they shall most of all, and with the 
+greatest fortitude, cleave to Him, and when the glory of resistance and 
+the crown of martyrdom shall be more conspicuous in proportion to the 
+hotness of the battle? Or if it is suggested that they may be said not to 
+reign, because of the tribulations which they shall suffer, it will follow 
+that all the saints who have formerly, during the thousand years, 
+suffered tribulation, shall not be said to have reigned with Christ during 
+the period of their tribulation, and consequently even those whose souls 
+the author of this book says that he saw, and who were slain for the 
+testimony of Jesus and the word of God, did not reign with Christ when 
+they were suffering persecution, and they were not themselves the 
+kingdom of Christ, though Christ was then pre-eminently possessing 
+them. This is indeed perfectly absurd, and to be scouted. But assuredly 
+the victorious souls of the glorious martyrs, having overcome and 
+finished all griefs and toils, and having laid down their mortal members, 
+have reigned, and do reign, with Christ till the thousand years are 
+finished, that they may afterwards reign with Him when they have 
+received their immortal bodies. And therefore during these three years 
+and a half the souls of those who were slain for His testimony, both 
+those which formerly passed from the body and those which shall pass in 
+that last persecution, shall reign with Him till the mortal world come to 
+an end, and pass into that kingdom in which there shall be no death. 
+And thus the reign of the saints with Christ shall last longer than the 
+bonds and imprisonment of the devil, because they shall reign with their 
+King the Son of God for these three years and a half during which the 
+devil is no longer bound. It remains, therefore, that when we read that 
+“the priests of God and of Christ shall reign with Him a thousand years; 
+and when the thousand years are finished, the devil shall be loosed from 
+his imprisonment,” that we understand either that the thousand years of 
+the reign of the saints does not terminate, though the imprisonment of 
+the devil does—so that both parties have their thousand years, that is, 
+their complete time, yet each with a different actual duration 
+appropriate to itself, the kingdom of the saints being longer, the 
+imprisonment of the devil shorter—or at least that, as three years and six 
+months is a very short time, it is not reckoned as either deducted from 
+the whole time of Satan’s imprisonment, or as added to the whole 
+duration of the reign of the saints, as we have shown above in the 
+
+
+sixteenth book®? regarding the round number of four hundred years, 
+which were specified as four hundred, though actually somewhat more; 
+and similar expressions are often found in the sacred writings, if one will 
+mark them. 
+
+
+14. Of the damnation of the devil and his adherents; and a sketch of the bodily resurrection of 
+all the dead, and of the final retributive judgment 
+
+
+After this mention of the closing persecution, he summarily indicates 
+all that the devil, and the city of which he is the prince, shall suffer in 
+the last judgment. For he says, “And the devil who seduced them is cast 
+into the lake of fire and brimstone, in which are the beast and the false 
+prophet, and they shall be tormented day and night for ever and ever.” 
+We have already said that by the beast is well understood the wicked 
+city. His false prophet is either Antichrist or that image or figment of 
+which we have spoken in the same place. After this he gives a brief 
+narrative of the last judgment itself, which shall take place at the second 
+or bodily resurrection of the dead, as it had been revealed to him: “I saw 
+a throne great and white, and One sitting on it from whose face the 
+heaven and the earth fled away, and their place was not found.” He does 
+not say, “I saw a throne great and white, and One sitting on it, and from 
+His face the heaven and the earth fled away,” for it had not happened 
+then, i.e. before the living and the dead were judged; but he says that he 
+saw Him sitting on the throne from whose face heaven and earth fled 
+away, but afterwards. For when the judgment is finished, this heaven 
+and earth shall cease to be, and there will be a new heaven and a new 
+earth. For this world shall pass away by transmutation, not by absolute 
+destruction. And therefore the apostle says, “For the figure of this world 
+passeth away. I would have you be without anxiety.”70 The figure, 
+therefore, passes away, not the nature. After John had said that he had 
+seen One sitting on the throne from whose face heaven and earth fled, 
+though not till afterwards, he said, “And I saw the dead, great and small: 
+and the books were opened; and another book was opened, which is the 
+book of the life of each man: and the dead were judged out of those 
+things which were written in the books, according to their deeds.” He 
+said that the books were opened, and a book; but he left us at a loss as to 
+the nature of this book, “which is,” he says, “the book of the life of each 
+
+
+9 
+. 
+
+
+man.” By those books, then, which he first mentioned, we are to 
+understand the sacred books old and new, that out of them it might be 
+shown what commandments God had enjoined; and that book of the life 
+of each man is to show what commandments each man has done or 
+omitted to do. If this book be materially considered, who can reckon its 
+size or length, or the time it would take to read a book in which the 
+whole life of every man is recorded? Shall there be present as many 
+angels as men, and shall each man hear his life recited by the angel 
+assigned to him? In that case there will be not one book containing all 
+the lives, but a separate book for every life. But our passage requires us 
+to think of one only. “And another book was opened,” it says. We must 
+therefore understand it of a certain divine power, by which it shall be 
+brought about that every one shall recall to memory all his own works, 
+whether good or evil, and shall mentally survey them with a marvellous 
+rapidity, so that this knowledge will either accuse or excuse conscience, 
+and thus all and each shall be simultaneously judged. And this divine 
+power is called a book, because in it we shall as it were read all that it 
+causes us to remember. That he may show who the dead, small and 
+great, are who are to be judged, he recurs to this which he had omitted 
+or rather deferred, and says, “And the sea presented the dead which 
+were in it; and death and hell gave up the dead which were in them.” 
+This of course took place before the dead were judged, yet it is 
+mentioned after. And so, I say, he returns again to what he had omitted. 
+But now he preserves the order of events, and for the sake of exhibiting 
+it repeats in its own proper place what he had already said regarding the 
+dead who were judged. For after he had said, “And the sea presented the 
+dead which were in it, and death and hell gave up the dead which were 
+in them,” he immediately subjoined what he had already said, “and they 
+were judged every man according to their works.” For this is just what 
+he had said before, “And the dead were judged according to their 
+works.” 
+
+
+15. Who the dead are who are given up to judgment by the sea, and by death and hell 
+
+
+But who are the dead which were in the sea, and which the sea 
+presented? For we cannot suppose that those who die in the sea are not 
+in hell, nor that their bodies are preserved in the sea; nor yet, which is 
+
+
+still more absurd, that the sea retained the good, while hell received the 
+bad. Who could believe this? But some very sensibly suppose that in this 
+place the sea is put for this world. When John then wished to signify 
+that those whom Christ should find still alive in the body were to be 
+judged along with those who should rise again, he called them dead, 
+both the good to whom it is said, “For ye are dead, and your life is hid 
+with Christ in God,”7! and the wicked of whom it is said, “Let the dead 
+bury their dead.”72 They may also be called dead, because they wear 
+mortal bodies, as the apostle says, “The body indeed is dead because of 
+sin; but the spirit is life because of righteousness;”73 proving that in a 
+living man in the body there is both a body which is dead, and a spirit 
+which is life. Yet he did not say that the body was mortal, but dead, 
+although immediately after he speaks in the more usual way of mortal 
+bodies. These, then, are the dead which were in the sea, and which the 
+sea presented, to wit, the men who were in this world because they had 
+not yet died, and whom the world presented for judgment. “And death 
+and hell,” he says, “gave up the dead which were in them.” The sea 
+presented them because they had merely to be found in the place where 
+they were; but death and hell gave them up or restored them, because 
+they called them back to life, which they had already quitted. And 
+perhaps it was not without reason that neither death nor hell were judged 
+sufficient alone, and both were mentioned—death to indicate the good, 
+who have suffered only death and not hell; hell to indicate the wicked, 
+who suffer also the punishment of hell. For if it does not seem absurd to 
+believe that the ancient saints who believed in Christ and His then future 
+coming, were kept in places far removed indeed from the torments of the 
+wicked, but yet in hell,74 until Christ’s blood and His descent into these 
+places delivered them, certainly good Christians, redeemed by that 
+precious price already paid, are quite unacquainted with hell while they 
+wait for their restoration to the body, and the reception of their reward. 
+After saying, “They were judged every man according to their works,” he 
+briefly added what the judgment was: “Death and hell were cast into the 
+lake of fire;” by these names designating the devil and the whole 
+company of his angels, for he is the author of death and the pains of 
+hell. For this is what he had already, by anticipation, said in clearer 
+language: “The devil who seduced them was cast into a lake of fire and 
+brimstone.” The obscure addition he had made in the words, “in which 
+
+
+were also the beast and the false prophet,” he here explains, “They who 
+were not found written in the book of life were cast into the lake of fire.” 
+This book is not for reminding God, as if things might escape Him by 
+forgetfulness, but it symbolizes His predestination of those to whom 
+eternal life shall be given. For it is not that God is ignorant, and reads in 
+the book to inform Himself, but rather His infallible prescience is the 
+book of life in which they are written, that is to say, known beforehand. 
+
+
+16. Of the new heaven and the new earth 
+
+
+Having finished the prophecy of judgment, so far as the wicked are 
+concerned, it remains that he speak also of the good. Having briefly 
+explained the Lord’s words, “These will go away into everlasting 
+punishment,” it remains that he explain the connected words, “but the 
+righteous into life eternal.”75 “And I saw,” he says, “a new heaven and a 
+new earth: for the first heaven and the first earth have passed away; and 
+there is no more sea.”76 This will take place in the order which he has by 
+anticipation declared in the words, “I saw One sitting on the throne, 
+from whose face heaven and earth fled.” For as soon as those who are 
+not written in the book of life have been judged and cast into eternal fire 
+—the nature of which fire, or its position in the world or universe, I 
+suppose is known to no man, unless perhaps the divine Spirit reveal it to 
+some one—then shall the figure of this world pass away in a 
+conflagration of universal fire, as once before the world was flooded 
+with a deluge of universal water. And by this universal conflagration the 
+qualities of the corruptible elements which suited our corruptible bodies 
+shall utterly perish, and our substance shall receive such qualities as 
+shall, by a wonderful transmutation, harmonize with our immortal 
+bodies, so that, as the world itself is renewed to some better thing, it is 
+fitly accommodated to men, themselves renewed in their flesh to some 
+better thing. As for the statement, “And there shall be no more sea,” I 
+would not lightly say whether it is dried up with that oxcessive heat, or 
+is itself also turned into some better thing. For we read that there shall 
+be a new heaven and a new earth, but I do not remember to have 
+anywhere read anything of a new sea, unless what I find in this same 
+book, “As it were a sea of glass like crystal.””7 But he was not then 
+speaking of this end of the world, neither does he seem to speak of a 
+
+
+literal sea, but “as it were a sea.” It is possible that, as prophetic diction 
+delights in mingling figurative and real language, and thus in some sort 
+veiling the sense, so the words “And there is no more sea” may be taken 
+in the same sense as the previous phrase, “And the sea presented the 
+dead which were in it.” For then there shall be no more of this world, no 
+more of the surgings and restlessness of human life, and it is this which 
+is symbolized by the sea. 
+
+
+17. Of the endless glory of the Church 
+
+
+“And I saw,” he says, “a great city, new Jerusalem, coming down from 
+God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I 
+heard a great voice from the throne, saying, Behold, the tabernacle of 
+God is with men, and He will dwell with them, and they shall be His 
+people, and God Himself shall be with them. And God shall wipe away 
+all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither 
+sorrow, nor crying, but neither shall there be any more pain: because the 
+former things have passed away. And He that sat upon the throne said, 
+Behold, I make all things new.”78 This city is said to come down out of 
+heaven, because the grace with which God formed it is of heaven. 
+Wherefore He says to it by Isaiah, “I am the Lord that formed thee.”79 It 
+is indeed descended from heaven from its commencement, since its 
+citizens during the course of this world grow by the grace of God, which 
+cometh down from above through the laver of regeneration in the Holy 
+Ghost sent down from heaven. But by God’s final judgment, which shall 
+be administered by His Son Jesus Christ, there shall by God’s grace be 
+manifested a glory so pervading and so new, that no vestige of what is 
+old shall remain; for even our bodies shall pass from their old corruption 
+and mortality to new incorruption and immortality. For to refer this 
+promise to the present time, in which the saints are reigning with their 
+King a thousand years, seems to me excessively barefaced, when it is 
+most distinctly said, “God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and 
+there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, but there shall 
+be no more pain.” And who is so absurd, and blinded by contentious 
+opinionativeness, as to be audacious enough to affirm that in the midst 
+of the calamities of this mortal state, God’s people, or even one single 
+saint, does live, or has ever lived, or shall ever live, without tears or pain 
+
+
+—the fact being that the holier a man is, and the fuller of holy desire, so 
+much the more abundant is the tearfulness of his supplication? Are not 
+these the utterances of a citizen of the heavenly Jerusalem: “My tears 
+have been my meat day and night;”8° and “Every night shall I make my 
+bed to swim; with my tears shall I water my couch;”8! and “My groaning 
+is not hid from Thee;”82 and “My sorrow was renewed?”83 Or are not 
+those God’s children who groan, being burdened, not that they wish to 
+be unclothed, but clothed upon, that mortality may be swallowed up of 
+life?84 Do not they even who have the first-fruits of the Spirit groan 
+within themselves, waiting for the adoption, the redemption of their 
+body?85 Was not the Apostle Paul himself a citizen of the heavenly 
+Jerusalem, and was not so all the more when he had heaviness and 
+continual sorrow of heart for his Israelitish brethren?86 But when shall 
+there be no more death in that city, except when it shall be said, “O 
+death, where is thy contention?87 O death, where is thy sting? The sting 
+of death is sin.”88 Obviously there shall be no sin when it can be said, 
+“Where is”—— But as for the present it is not some poor weak citizen of 
+this city, but this same Apostle John himself who says, “If we say that 
+we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.”89 No 
+doubt, though this book is called the Apocalypse, there are in it many 
+obscure passages to exercise the mind of the reader, and there are few 
+passages so plain as to assist us in the interpretation of the others, even 
+though we take pains; and this difficulty is increased by the repetition of 
+the same things, in forms so different, that the things referred to seem to 
+be different, although in fact they are only differently stated. But in the 
+words, “God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be 
+no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, but there shall be no more 
+pain,” there is so manifest a reference to the future world and the 
+immortality and eternity of the saints—for only then and only there shall 
+such a condition be realized—that if we think this obscure, we need not 
+expect to find anything plain in any part of Scripture. 
+
+
+18. What the Apostle Peter predicted regarding the last judgment 
+
+
+Let us now see what the Apostle Peter predicted concerning this 
+judgment. “There shall come,” he says, “in the last days scoffers.... 
+Nevertheless we, according to His promise, look for new heavens and a 
+
+
+new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness.”9° There is nothing said here 
+about the resurrection of the dead, but enough certainly regarding the 
+destruction of this world. And by his reference to the deluge he seems as 
+it were to suggest to us how far we should believe the ruin of the world 
+will extend in the end of the world. For he says that the world which 
+then was perished, and not only the earth itself, but also the heavens, by 
+which we understand the air, the place and room of which was occupied 
+by the water. Therefore the whole, or almost the whole, of the gusty 
+atmosphere (which he calls heaven, or rather the heavens, meaning the 
+earth’s atmosphere, and not the upper air in which sun, moon, and stars 
+are set) was turned into moisture, and in this way perished together with 
+the earth, whose former appearance had been destroyed by the deluge. 
+“But the heavens and the earth which are now, by the same word are 
+kept in store, reserved unto fire against the day of judgment and 
+perdition of ungodly men.” Therefore the heavens and the earth, or the 
+world which was preserved from the water to stand in place of that 
+world which perished in the flood, is itself reserved to fire at last in the 
+day of the judgment and perdition of ungodly men. He does not hesitate 
+to affirm that in this great change men also shall perish: their nature, 
+however, shall notwithstanding continue, though in eternal 
+punishments. Some one will perhaps put the question, If after judgment 
+is pronounced the world itself is to burn, where shall the saints be 
+during the conflagration, and before it is replaced by a new heavens and 
+a new earth, since somewhere they must be, because they have material 
+bodies? We may reply that they shall be in the upper regions into which 
+the flame of that conflagration shall not ascend, as neither did the water 
+of the flood; for they shall have such bodies that they shall be wherever 
+they wish. Moreover, when they have become immortal and 
+incorruptible, they shall not greatly dread the blaze of that 
+conflagration, as the corruptible and mortal bodies of the three men 
+were able to live unhurt in the blazing furnace. 
+
+
+19. What the Apostle Paul wrote to the Thessalonians about the manifestation of Antichrist 
+which shall precede the day of the Lord 
+
+
+I see that I must omit many of the statements of the gospels and 
+epistles about this last judgment, that this volume may not become 
+
+
+unduly long; but I can on no account omit what the Apostle Paul says, in 
+writing to the Thessalonians, “We beseech you, brethren, by the coming 
+of our Lord Jesus Christ,”?! etc. 
+
+No one can doubt that he wrote this of Antichrist and of the day of 
+judgment, which he here calls the day of the Lord, nor that he declared 
+that this day should not come unless he first came who is called the 
+apostate—apostate, to wit, from the Lord God. And if this may justly be 
+said of all the ungodly, how much more of him? But it is uncertain in 
+what temple he shall sit, whether in that ruin of the temple which was 
+built by Solomon, or in the Church; for the apostle would not call the 
+temple of any idol or demon the temple of God. And on this account 
+some think that in this passage Antichrist means not the prince himself 
+alone, but his whole body, that is, the mass of men who adhere to him, 
+along with him their prince; and they also think that we should render 
+the Greek more exactly were we to read, not “in the temple of God,” but 
+“for” or “as the temple of God,” as if he himself were the temple of God, 
+the Church.22 Then as for the words, “And now ye know what 
+withholdeth,” ie. ye know what hindrance or cause of delay there is, 
+“that he might be revealed in his own time;” they show that he was 
+unwilling to make an explicit statement, because he said that they knew. 
+And thus we who have not their knowledge wish and are not able even 
+with pains to understand what the apostle referred to, especially as his 
+meaning is made still more obscure by what he adds. For what does he 
+mean by “For the mystery of iniquity doth already work: only he who 
+now holdeth, let him hold until he be taken out of the way: and then 
+shall the wicked be revealed?” I frankly confess I do not know what he 
+means. I will nevertheless mention such conjectures as I have heard or 
+read. 
+
+Some think that the Apostle Paul referred to the Roman empire, and 
+that he was unwilling to use language more explicit, lest he should incur 
+the calumnious charge of wishing ill to the empire which it was hoped 
+would be eternal; so that in saying, “For the mystery of iniquity doth 
+already work,” he alluded to Nero, whose deeds already seemed to be as 
+the deeds of Antichrist. And hence some suppose that he shall rise again 
+and be Antichrist. Others, again, suppose that he is not even dead, but 
+that he was concealed that he might be supposed to have been killed, 
+and that he now lives in concealment in the vigour of that same age 
+
+
+which he had reached when he was believed to have perished, and will 
+live until he is revealed in his own time and restored to his kingdom.93 
+But I wonder that men can be so audacious in their conjectures. 
+However, it is not absurd to believe that these words of the apostle, 
+“Only he who now holdeth, let him hold until he be taken out of the 
+way,” refer to the Roman empire, as if it were said, “Only he who now 
+reigneth, let him reign until he be taken out of the way.” “And then shall 
+the wicked be revealed:” no one doubts that this means Antichrist. But 
+others think that the words, “Ye know what withholdeth,” and “The 
+mystery of iniquity worketh,” refer only to the wicked and the 
+hypocrites who are in the Church, until they reach a number so great as 
+to furnish Antichrist with a great people, and that this is the mystery of 
+iniquity, because it seems hidden; also that the apostle is exhorting the 
+faithful tenaciously to hold the faith they hold when he says, “Only he 
+who now holdeth, let him hold until he be taken out of the way,” that is, 
+until the mystery of iniquity which now is hidden departs from the 
+Church. For they suppose that it is to this same mystery John alludes 
+when in his epistle he says, “Little children, it is the last time: and as ye 
+have heard that Antichrist shall come, even now are there many 
+antichrists; whereby we know that it is the last time. They went out from 
+us, but they were not of us; for if they had been of us, they would no 
+doubt have continued with us.”94 As therefore there went out from the 
+Church many heretics, whom John calls “many antichrists,” at that time 
+prior to the end, and which John calls “the last time,” so in the end they 
+shall go out who do not belong to Christ, but to that last Antichrist, and 
+then he shall be revealed. 
+
+Thus various, then, are the conjectural explanations of the obscure 
+words of the apostle. That which there is no doubt he said is this, that 
+Christ will not come to judge quick and dead unless Antichrist, His 
+adversary, first come to seduce those who are dead in soul; although 
+their seduction is a result of God’s secret judgment already passed. For, 
+as it is said, “his presence shall be after the working of Satan, with all 
+power, and signs, and lying wonders, and with all seduction of 
+unrighteousness in them that perish.” For then shall Satan be loosed, and 
+by means of that Antichrist shall work with all power in a lying though a 
+wonderful manner. It is commonly questioned whether these works are 
+called “signs and lying wonders” because he is to deceive men’s senses 
+
+
+by false appearances, or because the things he does, though they be true 
+prodigies, shall be a lie to those who shall believe that such things could 
+be done only by God, being ignorant of the devil’s power, and especially 
+of such unexampled power as he shall then for the first time put forth. 
+For when he fell from heaven as fire, and at a stroke swept away from 
+the holy Job his numerous household and his vast flocks, and then as a 
+whirlwind rushed upon and smote the house and killed his children, 
+these were not deceitful appearances, and yet they were the works of 
+Satan to whom God had given this power. Why they are called signs and 
+lying wonders we shall then be more likely to know when the time itself 
+arrives. But whatever be the reason of the name, they shall be such signs 
+and wonders as shall seduce those who shall deserve to be seduced, 
+“Decause they received not the love of the truth that they might be 
+saved.” Neither did the apostle scruple to go on to say, “For this cause 
+God shall send upon them the working of error that they should believe 
+a lie.” For God shall send, because God shall permit the devil to do these 
+things, the permission being by His own just judgment, though the doing 
+of them is in pursuance of the devil’s unrighteous and malignant 
+purpose, “that they all might be judged who believed not the truth, but 
+had pleasure in unrighteousness.” Therefore, being judged, they shall be 
+seduced, and, being seduced, they shall be judged. But, being judged, 
+they shall be seduced by those secretly just and justly secret judgments 
+of God, with which He has never ceased to judge since the first sin of the 
+rational creatures; and, being seduced, they shall be judged in that last 
+and manifest judgment administered by Jesus Christ, who was Himself 
+most unjustly judged and shall most justly judge. 
+
+
+20. What the same apostle taught in the first Epistle to the Thessalonians regarding the 
+
+
+resurrection of the dead 
+
+
+But the apostle has said nothing here regarding the resurrection of the 
+dead; but in his first Epistle to the Thessalonians he says, “We would not 
+have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep,”95 
+etc. These words of the apostle most distinctly proclaim the future 
+resurrection of the dead, when the Lord Christ shall come to judge the 
+quick and the dead. 
+
+But it is commonly asked whether those whom our Lord shall find 
+
+
+alive upon earth, personated in this passage by the apostle and those 
+who were alive with him, shall never die at all, or shall pass with 
+incomprehensible swiftness through death to immortality in the very 
+moment during which they shall be caught up along with those who rise 
+again to meet the Lord in the air? For we cannot say that it is impossible 
+that they should both die and revive again while they are carried aloft 
+through the air. For the words, “And so shall we ever be with the Lord,” 
+are not to be understood as if he meant that we shall always remain in 
+the air with the Lord; for He Himself shall not remain there, but shall 
+only pass through it as He comes. For we shall go to meet Him as He 
+comes, not where He remains; but “so shall we be with the Lord,” that is, 
+we shall be with Him possessed of immortal bodies wherever we shall be 
+with Him. We seem compelled to take the words in this sense, and to 
+suppose that those whom the Lord shall find alive upon earth shall in 
+that brief space both suffer death and receive immortality; for this same 
+apostle says, “In Christ shall all be made alive;”9° while, speaking of the 
+same resurrection of the body, he elsewhere says, “That which thou 
+sowest is not quickened, except it die.”97 How, then, shall those whom 
+Christ shall find alive upon earth be made alive to immortality in Him if 
+they die not, since on this very account it is said, “That which thou 
+sowest is not quickened, except it die?” Or if we cannot properly speak 
+of human bodies as sown, unless in so far as by dying they do in some 
+sort return to the earth, as also the sentence pronounced by God against 
+the sinning father of the human race runs, “Earth thou art, and unto 
+earth shalt thou return,”98 we must acknowledge that those whom Christ 
+at His coming shall find still in the body are not included in these words 
+of the apostle nor in those of Genesis; for, being caught up into the 
+clouds, they are certainly not sown, neither going nor returning to the 
+earth, whether they experience no death at all or die for a moment in 
+the air. 
+
+But, on the other hand, there meets us the saying of the same apostle 
+when he was speaking to the Corinthians about the resurrection of the 
+body, “We shall all rise,” or, as other mss. read, “We shall all sleep.”99 
+Since, then, there can be no resurrection unless death has preceded, and 
+since we can in this passage understand by sleep nothing else than 
+death, how shall all either sleep or rise again if so many persons whom 
+Christ shall find in the body shall neither sleep nor rise again? If, then, 
+
+
+we believe that the saints who shall be found alive at Christ’s coming, 
+and shall be caught up to meet Him, shall in that same ascent pass from 
+mortal to immortal bodies, we shall find no difficulty in the words of the 
+apostle, either when he says, “That which thou sowest is not quickened, 
+except it die,” or when he says, “We shall all rise,” or “all sleep,” for not 
+even the saints shall be quickened to immortality unless they first die, 
+however briefly; and consequently they shall not be exempt from 
+resurrection which is preceded by sleep, however brief. And why should 
+it seem to us incredible that that multitude of bodies should be, as it 
+were, sown in the air, and should in the air forthwith revive immortal 
+and incorruptible, when we believe, on the testimony of the same 
+apostle, that the resurrection shall take place in the twinkling of an eye, 
+and that the dust of bodies long dead shall return with incomprehensible 
+facility and swiftness to those members that are now to live endlessly? 
+Neither do we suppose that in the case of these saints the sentence, 
+“Earth thou art, and unto earth shalt thou return,” is null, though their 
+bodies do not, on dying, fall to earth, but both die and rise again at once 
+while caught up into the air. For “Thou shalt return to earth” means, 
+Thou shalt at death return to that which thou wert before life began. 
+Thou shalt, when exanimate, be that which thou wert before thou wast 
+animate. For it was into a face of earth that God breathed the breath of 
+life when man was made a living soul; as if it were said, Thou art earth 
+with a soul, which thou wast not; thou shalt be earth without a soul, as 
+thou wast. And this is what all bodies of the dead are before they rot; 
+and what the bodies of those saints shall be if they die, no matter where 
+they die, as soon as they shall give up that life which they are 
+immediately to receive back again. In this way, then, they return or go 
+to earth, inasmuch as from being living men they shall be earth, as that 
+which becomes cinder is said to go to cinder; that which decays, to go to 
+decay; and so of six hundred other things. But the manner in which this 
+shall take place we can now only feebly conjecture, and shall understand 
+it only when it comes to pass. For that there shall be a bodily 
+resurrection of the dead when Christ comes to judge quick and dead, we 
+must believe if we would be Christians. But if we are unable perfectly to 
+comprehend the manner in which it shall take place, our faith is not on 
+this account vain. Now, however, we ought, as we formerly promised, to 
+show, as far as seems necessary, what the ancient prophetic books 
+
+
+predicted concerning this final judgment of God; and I fancy no great 
+time need be spent in discussing and explaining these predictions, if the 
+reader has been careful to avail himself of the help we have already 
+furnished. 
+
+
+21. Utterances of the prophet Isaiah regarding the resurrection of the dead and the retributive 
+judgment 
+
+
+The prophet Isaiah says, “The dead shall rise again, and all who were 
+in the graves shall rise again; and all who are in the earth shall rejoice: 
+for the dew which is from Thee is their health, and the earth of the 
+wicked shall fall.”10° All the former part of this passage relates to the 
+resurrection of the blessed; but the words, “the earth of the wicked shall 
+fall,” is rightly understood as meaning that the bodies of the wicked 
+shall fall into the ruin of damnation. And if we would more exactly and 
+carefully scrutinize the words which refer to the resurrection of the 
+good, we may refer to the first resurrection the words, “the dead shall 
+rise again,” and to the second the following words, “and all who were in 
+the graves shall rise again.” And if we ask what relates to those saints 
+whom the Lord at His coming shall find alive upon earth, the following 
+clause may suitably be referred to them: “All who are in the earth shall 
+rejoice: for the dew which is from Thee is their health.” By “health” in 
+this place it is best to understand immortality. For that is the most 
+perfect health which is not repaired by nourishment as by a daily 
+remedy. In like manner the same prophet, affording hope to the good 
+and terrifying the wicked regarding the day of judgment, says, “Thus 
+saith the Lord, Behold, I will flow down upon them as a river of peace, 
+and upon the glory of the Gentiles as a rushing torrent: their sons shall 
+be carried on the shoulders, and shall be comforted on the knees. As one 
+whom his mother comforteth, so shall I comfort you; and ye shall be 
+comforted in Jerusalem. And ye shall see, and your heart shall rejoice, 
+and your bones shall rise up like a herb; and the hand of the Lord shall 
+be known by His worshippers, and He shall threaten the contumacious. 
+For, behold, the Lord shall come as a fire, and as a whirlwind His 
+chariots, to execute vengeance with indignation, and wasting with a 
+flame of fire. For with fire of the Lord shall all the earth be judged, and 
+all flesh with His sword: many shall be wounded by the Lord.”!91 In His 
+
+
+promise to the good he says that He will flow down as a river of peace, 
+that is to say, in the greatest possible abundance of peace. With this 
+peace we shall in the end be refreshed; but of this we have spoken 
+abundantly in the preceding book. It is this river in which he says He 
+shall flow down upon those to whom He promises so great happiness, 
+that we may understand that in the region of that felicity, which is in 
+heaven, all things are satisfied from this river. But because there shall 
+thence flow, even upon earthly bodies, the peace of incorruption and 
+immortality, therefore he says that He shall flow down as this river, that 
+He may as it were pour Himself from things above to things beneath, 
+and make men the equals of the angels. By “Jerusalem,” too, we should 
+understand not that which serves with her children, but that which, 
+according to the apostle, is our free mother, eternal in the heavens.192 In 
+her we shall be comforted as we pass toil-worn from earth’s cares and 
+calamities, and be taken up as her children on her knees and shoulders. 
+Inexperienced and new to such blandishments, we shall be received into 
+unwonted bliss. There we shall see, and our heart shall rejoice. He does 
+not say what we shall see; but what but God, that the promise in the 
+Gospel may be fulfilled in us, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they 
+shall see God?”103 What shall we see but all those things which now we 
+see not, but believe in, and of which the idea we form, according to our 
+feeble capacity, is incomparably less than the reality? “And ye shall see,” 
+he says, “and your heart shall rejoice.” Here ye believe, there ye shall 
+see. 
+
+But because he said, “Your heart shall rejoice,” lest we should suppose 
+that the blessings of that Jerusalem are only spiritual, he adds, “And 
+your bones shall rise up like a herb,” alluding to the resurrection of the 
+body, and as it were supplying an omission he had made. For it will not 
+take place when we have seen; but we shall see when it has taken place. 
+For he had already spoken of the new heavens and the new earth, 
+speaking repeatedly, and under many figures, of the things promised to 
+the saints, and saying, “There shall be new heavens, and a new earth: 
+and the former shall not be remembered nor come into mind; but they 
+shall find in it gladness and exultation. Behold, I will make Jerusalem an 
+exultation, and my people a joy. And I will exult in Jerusalem, and joy in 
+my people; and the voice of weeping shall be no more heard in her;”104 
+and other promises, which some endeavour to refer to carnal enjoyment 
+
+
+during the thousand years. For, in the manner of prophecy, figurative 
+and literal expressions are mingled, so that a serious mind may, by 
+useful and salutary effort, reach the spiritual sense; but carnal 
+sluggishness, or the slowness of an uneducated and undisciplined mind, 
+rests in the superficial letter, and thinks there is nothing beneath to be 
+looked for. But let this be enough regarding the style of those prophetic 
+expressions just quoted. And now, to return to their interpretation. When 
+he had said, “And your bones shall rise up like a herb,” in order to show 
+that it was the resurrection of the good, though a bodily resurrection, to 
+which he alluded, he added, “And the hand of the Lord shall be known 
+by His worshippers.” What is this but the hand of Him who distinguishes 
+those who worship from those who despise Him? Regarding these the 
+context immediately adds, “And He shall threaten the contumacious,” or, 
+as another translator has it, “the unbelieving.” He shall not actually 
+threaten them, but the threats which are now uttered shall then be 
+fulfilled in effect. “For behold,” he says, “the Lord shall come as a fire, 
+and as a whirlwind His chariots, to execute vengeance with indignation, 
+and wasting with a flame of fire. For with fire of the Lord shall all the 
+earth be judged, and all flesh with His sword: many shall be wounded by 
+the Lord.” By fire, whirlwind, sword, he means the judicial punishment of 
+God. For he says that the Lord Himself shall come as a fire, to those, that 
+is to say, to whom His coming shall be penal. By His chariots (for the 
+word is plural) we suitably understand the ministration of angels. And 
+when he says that all flesh and all the earth shall be judged with His fire 
+and sword, we do not understand the spiritual and holy to be included, 
+but the earthly and carnal, of whom it is said that they “mind earthly 
+things,”!95 and “to be carnally minded is death,”!96 and whom the Lord 
+calls simply flesh when He says, “My Spirit shall not always remain in 
+these men, for they are flesh.”197 As to the words, “Many shall be 
+wounded by the Lord,” this wounding shall produce the second death. It 
+is possible, indeed, to understand fire, sword, and wound in a good sense. 
+For the Lord said that He wished to send fire on the earth.!08 And the 
+cloven tongues appeared to them as fire when the Holy Spirit came.109 
+And our Lord says, “I am not come to send peace on earth, but a 
+sword.”!10 And Scripture says that the word of God is a doubly sharp 
+sword,!11 on account of the two edges, the two Testaments. And in the 
+Song of Songs the holy Church says that she is wounded with love!!2— 
+
+
+pierced, as it were, with the arrow of love. But here, where we read or 
+hear that the Lord shall come to execute vengeance, it is obvious in what 
+sense we are to understand these expressions. 
+
+After briefly mentioning those who shall be consumed in this 
+judgment, speaking of the wicked and sinners under the figure of the 
+meats forbidden by the old law, from which they had not abstained, he 
+summarily recounts the grace of the new testament, from the first 
+coming of the Saviour to the last judgment, of which we now speak; and 
+herewith he concludes his prophecy. For he relates that the Lord 
+declares that He is coming to gather all nations, that they may come and 
+witness His glory.1!3 For, as the apostle says, “All have sinned and are in 
+want of the glory of God.”!14 And he says that He will do wonders 
+among them, at which they shall marvel and believe in Him; and that 
+from them He will send forth those that are saved into various nations, 
+and distant islands which have not heard His name nor seen His glory, 
+and that they shall declare His glory among the nations, and shall bring 
+the brethren of those to whom the prophet was speaking, ie. shall bring 
+to the faith under God the Father the brethren of the elect Israelites; and 
+that they shall bring from all nations an offering to the Lord on beasts of 
+burden and waggons (which are understood to mean the aids furnished 
+by God in the shape of angelic or human ministry), to the holy city 
+Jerusalem, which at present is scattered over the earth, in the faithful 
+saints. For where divine aid is given, men believe, and where they 
+believe, they come. And the Lord compared them, in a figure, to the 
+children of Israel offering sacrifice to Him in His house with psalms, 
+which is already everywhere done by the Church; and He promised that 
+from among them He would choose for Himself priests and Levites, 
+which also we see already accomplished. For we see that priests and 
+Levites are now chosen, not from a certain family and blood, as was 
+originally the rule in the priesthood according to the order of Aaron, but 
+as befits the new testament, under which Christ is the High Priest after 
+the order of Melchizedek, in consideration of the merit which is 
+bestowed upon each man by divine grace. And these priests are not to be 
+judged by their mere title, which is often borne by unworthy men, but 
+by that holiness which is not common to good men and bad. 
+
+After having thus spoken of this mercy of God which is now 
+experienced by the Church, and is very evident and familiar to us, he 
+
+
+foretells also the ends to which men shall come when the last judgment 
+has separated the good and the bad, saying by the prophet, or the 
+prophet himself speaking for God, “For as the new heavens and the new 
+earth shall remain before me, said the Lord, so shall your seed and your 
+name remain, and there shall be to them month after month, and 
+Sabbath after Sabbath. All flesh shall come to worship before me in 
+Jerusalem, said the Lord. And they shall go out, and shall see the 
+members of the men who have sinned against me: their worm shall not 
+die, neither shall their fire be quenched; and they shall be for a spectacle 
+to all flesh.”115 At this point the prophet closed his book, as at this point 
+the world shall come to an end. Some, indeed, have translated 
+“carcases”!16 instead of “members of the men,” meaning by carcases the 
+manifest punishment of the body, although carcase is commonly used 
+only of dead flesh, while the bodies here spoken of shall be animated, 
+else they could not be sensible of any pain; but perhaps they may, 
+without absurdity, be called carcases, as being the bodies of those who 
+are to fall into the second death. And for the same reason it is said, as I 
+have already quoted, by this same prophet, “The earth of the wicked 
+shall fall.”117 It is obvious that those translators who use a different 
+word for men do not mean to include only males, for no one will say that 
+the women who sinned shall not appear in that judgment; but the male 
+sex, being the more worthy, and that from which the woman was 
+derived, is intended to include both sexes. But that which is especially 
+pertinent to our subject is this, that since the words “All flesh shall 
+come” apply to the good, for the people of God shall be composed of 
+every race of men—for all men shall not be present, since the greater 
+part shall be in punishment—but, as I was saying, since flesh is used of 
+the good, and members or carcases of the bad, certainly it is thus put 
+beyond a doubt that that judgment in which the good and the bad shall 
+be allotted to their destinies shall take place after the resurrection of the 
+body, our faith in which is thoroughly established by the use of these 
+words. 
+
+
+22. What is meant by the good going out to see the punishment of the wicked 
+
+
+But in what way shall the good go out to see the punishment of the 
+wicked? Are they to leave their happy abodes by a bodily movement, 
+
+
+and proceed to the places of punishment, so as to witness the torments 
+of the wicked in their bodily presence? Certainly not; but they shall go 
+out by knowledge. For this expression, go out, signifies that those who 
+shall be punished shall be without. And thus the Lord also calls these 
+places “the outer darkness,”!18 to which is opposed that entrance 
+concerning which it is said to the good servant, “Enter into the joy of thy 
+Lord,” that it may not be supposed that the wicked can enter thither and 
+be known, but rather that the good by their knowledge go out to them, 
+because the good are to know that which is without. For those who shall 
+be in torment shall not know what is going on within in the joy of the 
+Lord; but they who shall enter into that joy shall know what is going on 
+outside in the outer darkness. Therefore it is said, “They shall go out,” 
+because they shall know what is done by those who are without. For if 
+the prophets were able to know things that had not yet happened, by 
+means of that indwelling of God in their minds, limited though it was, 
+shall not the immortal saints know things that have already happened, 
+when God shall be all in all?119 The seed, then, and the name of the 
+saints shall remain in that blessedness—the seed, to wit, of which John 
+says, “And his seed remaineth in him;”!29 and the name, of which it was 
+said through Isaiah himself, “I will give them an everlasting name.”!21 
+“And there shall be to them month after month, and Sabbath after 
+Sabbath,” as if it were said, Moon after moon, and rest upon rest, both of 
+which they shall themselves be when they shall pass from the old 
+shadows of time into the new lights of eternity. The worm that dieth not, 
+and the fire that is not quenched, which constitute the punishment of the 
+wicked, are differently interpreted by different people. For some refer 
+both to the body, others refer both to the soul; while others again refer 
+the fire literally to the body, and the worm figuratively to the soul, 
+which seems the more credible idea. But the present is not the time to 
+discuss this difference, for we have undertaken to occupy this book with 
+the last judgment, in which the good and the bad are separated: their 
+rewards and punishments we shall more carefully discuss elsewhere. 
+
+
+23. What Daniel predicted regarding the persecution of Antichrist, the judgment of God, and the 
+kingdom of the saints 
+
+
+Daniel prophesies of the last judgment in such a way as to indicate 
+
+
+that Antichrist shall first come, and to carry on his description to the 
+eternal reign of the saints. For when in prophetic vision he had seen four 
+beasts, signifying four kingdoms, and the fourth conquered by a certain 
+king, who is recognised as Antichrist, and after this the eternal kingdom 
+of the Son of man, that is to say, of Christ, he says, “My spirit was 
+terrified, I Daniel in the midst of my body, and the visions of my head 
+troubled me,”!22etc. Some have interpreted these four kingdoms as 
+signifying those of the Assyrians, Persians, Macedonians, and Romans. 
+They who desire to understand the fitness of this interpretation may read 
+Jerome’s book on Daniel, which is written with a sufficiency of care and 
+erudition. But he who reads this passage, even half-asleep, cannot fail to 
+see that the kingdom of Antichrist shall fiercely, though for a short time, 
+assail the Church before the last judgment of God shall introduce the 
+eternal reign of the saints. For it is patent from the context that the time, 
+times, and half a time, means a year, and two years, and half a year, that 
+is to say, three years and a half. Sometimes in Scripture the same thing is 
+indicated by months. For though the word times seems to be used here in 
+the Latin indefinitely, that is only because the Latins have no dual, as the 
+Greeks have, and as the Hebrews also are said to have. Times, therefore, 
+is used for two times. As for the ten kings, whom, as it seems, Antichrist 
+is to find in the person of ten individuals when he comes, I own I am 
+afraid we may be deceived in this, and that he may come unexpectedly 
+while there are not ten kings living in the Roman world. For what if this 
+number ten signifies the whole number of kings who are to precede his 
+coming, as totality is frequently symbolized by a thousand, or a hundred, 
+or seven, or other numbers, which it is not necessary to recount? 
+
+In another place the same Daniel says, “And there shall be a time of 
+trouble, such as was not since there was born a nation upon earth until 
+that time: and in that time all Thy people which shall be found written 
+in the book shall be delivered. And many of them that sleep in the 
+mound of earth shall arise, some to everlasting life, and some to shame 
+and everlasting confusion. And they that be wise shall shine as the 
+brightness of the firmament; and many of the just as the stars for 
+ever.”!23 This passage is very similar to the one we have quoted from the 
+Gospel,!24 at least so far as regards the resurrection of dead bodies. For 
+those who are there said to be “in the graves” are here spoken of as 
+“sleeping in the mound of earth,” or, as others translate, “in the dust of 
+
+
+earth.” There it is said, “They shall come forth;” so here, “They shall 
+arise.” There, “They that have done good, to the resurrection of life; and 
+they that have done evil, to the resurrection of judgment;” here, “Some 
+to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting confusion.” 
+Neither is it to be supposed a difference, though in place of the 
+expression in the Gospel, “All who are in their graves,” the prophet does 
+not say “all,” but “many of them that sleep in the mound of earth.” For 
+many is sometimes used in Scripture for all. Thus it was said to Abraham, 
+“T have set thee as the father of many nations,” though in another place 
+it was said to him, “In thy seed shall all nations be blessed.”!25 Of such a 
+resurrection it is said a little afterwards to the prophet himself, “And 
+come thou and rest: for there is yet a day till the completion of the 
+consummation; and thou shalt rest, and rise in thy lot in the end of the 
+days.”126 
+
+
+24. Passages from the Psalms of David which predict the end of the world and the last judgment 
+
+
+There are many allusions to the last judgment in the Psalms, but for 
+the most part only casual and slight. I cannot, however, omit to mention 
+what is said there in express terms of the end of this world: “In the 
+beginning hast Thou laid the foundations of the earth, O Lord; and the 
+heavens are the work of Thy hands. They shall perish, but Thou shalt 
+endure; yea, all of them shall wax old like a garment; and as a vesture 
+Thou shalt change them, and they shall be changed: but Thou art the 
+same, and Thy years shall not fail.”!27 Why is it that Porphyry, while he 
+lauds the piety of the Hebrews in worshipping a God great and true, and 
+terrible to the gods themselves, follows the oracles of these gods in 
+accusing the Christians of extreme folly because they say that this world 
+shall perish? For here we find it said in the sacred books of the Hebrews, 
+to that God whom this great philosopher acknowledges to be terrible 
+even to the gods themselves, “The heavens are the work of Thy hands: 
+they shall perish.” When the heavens, the higher and more secure part of 
+the world, perish, shall the world itself be preserved? If this idea is not 
+relished by Jupiter, whose oracle is quoted by this philosopher as an 
+unquestionable authority in rebuke of the credulity of the Christians, 
+why does he not similarly rebuke the wisdom of the Hebrews as folly, 
+seeing that the prediction is found in their most holy books? But if this 
+Hebrew wisdom, with which Porphyry is so captivated that he extols it 
+
+
+through the utterances of his own gods, proclaims that the heavens are 
+to perish, how is he so infatuated as to detest the faith of the Christians 
+partly, if not chiefly, on this account, that they believe the world is to 
+perish?—though how the heavens are to perish if the world does not is 
+not easy to see. And, indeed, in the sacred writings which are peculiar to 
+ourselves, and not common to the Hebrews and us—I mean the 
+evangelic and apostolic books—the following expressions are used: “The 
+figure of this world passeth away;”!28 “The world passeth away;”129 
+“Heaven and earth shall pass away”!30—expressions which are, I fancy, 
+somewhat milder than “They shall perish.” In the Epistle of the Apostle 
+Peter, too, where the world which then was is said to have perished, 
+being overflowed with water, it is sufficiently obvious what part of the 
+world is signified by the whole, and in what sense the word perished is to 
+be taken, and what heavens were kept in store, reserved unto fire against 
+the day of judgment and perdition of ungodly men.!31 And when he says 
+a little afterwards, “The day of the Lord will come as a thief; in the 
+which the heavens shall pass away with a great rush, and the elements 
+shall melt with burning heat, and the earth and the works which are in it 
+shall be burned up;” and then adds, “Seeing, then, that all these things 
+shall be dissolved, what manner of persons ought ye to be?”!32— these 
+heavens which are to perish may be understood to be the same which he 
+said were kept in store reserved for fire; and the elements which are to 
+be burned are those which are full of storm and disturbance in this 
+lowest part of the world in which he said that these heavens were kept 
+in store; for the higher heavens in whose firmament are set the stars are 
+safe, and remain in their integrity. For even the expression of Scripture, 
+that “the stars shall fall from heaven,”!33 not to mention that a different 
+interpretation is much preferable, rather shows that the heavens 
+themselves shall remain, if the stars are to fall from them. This 
+expression, then, is either figurative, as is more credible, or this 
+phenomenon will take place in this lowest heaven, like that mentioned 
+by Virgil— 
+
+
+“A meteor with a train of light 
+Athwart the sky gleamed dazzling bright, 
+
+
+Then in Idzan woods was lost.”!34 
+
+
+But the passage I have quoted from the psalm seems to except none of 
+the heavens from the destiny of destruction; for he says, “The heavens 
+are the works of Thy hands: they shall perish;” so that, as none of them 
+are excepted from the category of God’s works, none of them are 
+excepted from destruction. For our opponents will not condescend to 
+defend the Hebrew piety, which has won the approbation of their gods, 
+by the words of the Apostle Peter, whom they vehemently detest; nor 
+will they argue that, as the apostle in his epistle understands a part when 
+he speaks of the whole world perishing in the flood, though only the 
+lowest part of it, and the corresponding heavens were destroyed, so in 
+the psalm the whole is used for a part, and it is said “They shall perish,” 
+though only the lowest heavens are to perish. But since, as I said, they 
+will not condescend to reason thus, lest they should seem to approve of 
+Peters meaning, or ascribe as much importance to the final 
+conflagration as we ascribe to the deluge, whereas they contend that no 
+waters or flames could destroy the whole human race, it only remains to 
+them to maintain that their gods lauded the wisdom of the Hebrews 
+because they had not read this psalm. 
+
+It is the last judgment of God which is referred to also in the 50th 
+Psalm in the words, “God shall come manifestly, our God, and shall not 
+keep silence: fire shall devour before Him, and it shall be very 
+tempestuous round about Him. He shall call the heaven above, and the 
+earth, to judge His people. Gather His saints together to Him; they who 
+make a covenant with Him over sacrifices.”135 This we understand of our 
+Lord Jesus Christ, whom we look for from heaven to judge the quick and 
+the dead. For He shall come manifestly to judge justly the just and the 
+unjust, who before came hiddenly to be unjustly judged by the unjust. 
+He, I say, shall come manifestly, and shall not keep silence, that is, shall 
+make Himself known by His voice of judgment, who before, when He 
+came hiddenly, was silent before His judge when He was led as a sheep 
+to the slaughter, and, as a lamb before the shearer, opened not His 
+mouth, as we read that it was prophesied of Him by Isaiah,136 and as we 
+see it fulfilled in the Gospel.137 As for the fire and tempest, we have 
+already said how these are to be interpreted when we were explaining a 
+similar passage in Isaiah.138 As to the expression, “He shall call the 
+heaven above,” as the saints and the righteous are rightly called heaven, 
+no doubt this means what the apostle says, “We shall be caught up 
+
+
+together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air.”139 For if 
+we take the bare literal sense, how is it possible to call the heaven 
+above, as if the heaven could be anywhere else than above? And the 
+following expression, “And the earth to judge His people,” if we supply 
+only the words, “He shall call,” that is to say, “He shall call the earth 
+also,” and do not supply “above,” seems to give us a meaning in 
+accordance with sound doctrine, the heaven symbolizing those who will 
+judge along with Christ, and the earth those who shall be judged; and 
+thus the words, “He shall call the heaven above,” would not mean, “He 
+shall catch up into the air,” but “He shall lift up to seats of judgment.” 
+Possibly, too, “He shall call the heaven,” may mean, He shall call the 
+angels in the high and lofty places, that He may descend with them to do 
+judgment; and “He shall call the earth also “would then mean, He shall 
+call the men on the earth to judgment. But if with the words “and the 
+earth “we understand not only “He shall call,” but also “above,” so as to 
+make the full sense be, He shall call the heaven above, and He shall call 
+the earth above, then I think it is best understood of the men who shall 
+be caught up to meet Christ in the air, and that they are called the heaven 
+with reference to their souls, and the earth with reference to their bodies. 
+Then what is “to judge His people,” but to separate by judgment the 
+good from the bad, as the sheep from the goats? Then he turns to 
+address the angels: “Gather His saints together unto Him.” For certainly 
+a matter so important must be accomplished by the ministry of angels. 
+And if we ask who the saints are who are gathered unto Him by the 
+angels, we are told, “They who make a covenant with Him over 
+sacrifices.” This is the whole life of the saints, to make a covenant with 
+God over sacrifices. For “over sacrifices” either refers to works of mercy, 
+which are preferable to sacrifices in the judgment of God, who says, “I 
+desire mercy more than sacrifices;”!49 or if “over sacrifices” means in 
+sacrifices, then these very works of mercy are the sacrifices with which 
+God is pleased, as I remember to have stated in the tenth book of this 
+work;!41 and in these works the saints make a covenant with God, 
+because they do them for the sake of the promises which are contained 
+in His new testament or covenant. And hence, when His saints have been 
+gathered to Him and set at His right hand in the last judgment, Christ 
+shall say, “Come, ye blessed of my Father, take possession of the 
+kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was 
+
+
+hungry, and ye gave me to eat,”!42 and so on, mentioning the good 
+works of the good, and their eternal rewards assigned by the last 
+sentence of the Judge. 
+
+
+25. Of Malachi’s prophecy, in which he speaks of the last judgment, and of a cleansing which 
+
+
+some are to undergo by purifying punishments 
+
+
+The prophet Malachi or Malachias, who is also called Angel, and is by 
+some (for Jerome!43 tells us that this is the opinion of the Hebrews) 
+identified with Ezra the priest,!44 others of whose writings have been 
+received into the canon, predicts the last judgment, saying, “Behold, He 
+cometh, saith the Lord Almighty; and who shall abide the day of His 
+entrance?... for I am the Lord your God, and I change not.”!45 From 
+these words it more evidently appears that some shall in the last 
+judgment suffer some kind of purgatorial punishments; for what else can 
+be understood by the word, “Who shall abide the day of His entrance, or 
+who shall be able to look upon Him? for He enters as a moulder’s fire, 
+and as the herb of fullers: and He shall sit fusing and purifying as if over 
+gold and silver: and He shall purify the sons of Levi, and pour them out 
+like gold and silver?” Similarly Isaiah says, “The Lord shall wash the 
+filthiness of the sons and daughters of Zion, and shall cleanse away the 
+blood from their midst, by the spirit of judgment and by the spirit of 
+burning.”!46 Unless perhaps we should say that they are cleansed from 
+filthiness and in a manner clarified, when the wicked are separated from 
+them by penal judgment, so that the elimination and damnation of the 
+one party is the purgation of the others, because they shall henceforth 
+live free from the contamination of such men. But when he says, “And 
+he shall purify the sons of Levi, and pour them out like gold and silver, 
+and they shall offer to the Lord sacrifices in righteousness; and the 
+sacrifices of Judah and Jerusalem shall be pleasing to the Lord,” he 
+declares that those who shall be purified shall then please the Lord with 
+sacrifices of righteousness, and consequently they themselves shall be 
+purified from their own unrighteousness which made them displeasing 
+to God. Now they themselves, when they have been purified, shall be 
+sacrifices of complete and perfect righteousness; for what more 
+acceptable offering can such persons make to God than themselves? But 
+this question of purgatorial punishments we must defer to another time, 
+
+
+to give it a more adequate treatment. By the sons of Levi and Judah and 
+Jerusalem we ought to understand the Church herself, gathered not from 
+the Hebrews only, but from other nations as well; nor such a Church as 
+she now is, when “if we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, 
+and the truth is not in us,”147 but as she shall then be, purged by the last 
+judgment as a threshing-floor by a winnowing wind, and those of her 
+members who need it being cleansed by fire, so that there remains 
+absolutely not one who offers sacrifice for his sins. For all who make 
+such offerings are assuredly in their sins, for the remission of which they 
+make offerings, that having made to God an acceptable offering, they 
+may then be absolved. 
+
+
+26. Of the sacrifices offered to God by the saints, which are to be pleasing to Him, as in the 
+
+
+primitive days and former years 
+
+
+And it was with the design of showing that His city shall not then 
+follow this custom, that God said that the sons of Levi should offer 
+sacrifices in righteousness—not therefore in sin, and consequently not 
+for sin. And hence we see how vainly the Jews promise themselves a 
+return of the old times of sacrificing according to the law of the old 
+testament, grounding on the words which follow, “And the sacrifice of 
+Judah and Jerusalem shall be pleasing to the Lord, as in the primitive 
+days, and as in former years.” For in the times of the law they offered 
+sacrifices not in righteousness but in sins, offering especially and 
+primarily for sins, so much so that even the priest himself, whom we 
+must suppose to have been their most righteous man, was accustomed to 
+offer, according to God’s commandments, first for his own sins, and then 
+for the sins of the people. And therefore we must explain how we are to 
+understand the words, “as in the primitive days, and as in former years;” 
+for perhaps he alludes to the time in which our first parents were in 
+paradise. Then, indeed, intact and pure from all stain and blemish of sin, 
+they offered themselves to God as the purest sacrifices. But since they 
+were banished thence on account of their transgression, and human 
+nature was condemned in them, with the exception of the one Mediator 
+and those who have been baptized, and are as yet infants, “there is none 
+clean from stain, not even the babe whose life has been but for a day 
+upon the earth.”!48 But if it be replied that those who offer in faith may 
+
+
+be said to offer in righteousness, because the righteous lives by faith!49 
+—he deceives himself, however, if he says that he has no sin, and 
+therefore he does not say so, because he lives by faith—will any man say 
+this time of faith can be placed on an equal footing with that 
+consummation when they who offer sacrifices in righteousness shall be 
+purified by the fire of the last judgment? And consequently, since it must 
+be believed that after such a cleansing the righteous shall retain no sin, 
+assuredly that time, so far as regards its freedom from sin, can be 
+compared to no other period, unless to that during which our first 
+parents lived in paradise in the most innocent happiness before their 
+transgression. It is this period, then, which is properly understood when 
+it is said, “as in the primitive days, and as in former years.” For in Isaiah, 
+too, after the new heavens and the new earth have been promised, 
+among other elements in the blessedness of the saints which are there 
+depicted by allegories and figures, from giving an adequate explanation 
+of which I am prevented by a desire to avoid prolixity, it is said, 
+“According to the days of the tree of life shall be the days of my 
+people.”150 And who that has looked at Scripture does not know where 
+God planted the tree of life, from whose fruit He excluded our first 
+parents when their own iniquity ejected them from paradise, and round 
+which a terrible and fiery fence was set? 
+
+But if any one contends that those days of the tree of life mentioned 
+by the prophet Isaiah are the present times of the Church of Christ, and 
+that Christ Himself is prophetically called the Tree of Life, because He is 
+Wisdom, and of wisdom Solomon says, “It is a tree of life to all who 
+embrace it;”!5! and if they maintain that our first parents did not pass 
+years in paradise, but were driven from it so soon that none of their 
+children were begotten there, and that therefore that time cannot be 
+alluded to in words which run, “as in the primitive days, and as in 
+former years,” I forbear entering on this question, lest by discussing 
+everything I become prolix, and leave the whole subject in uncertainty. 
+For I see another meaning, which should keep us from believing that a 
+restoration of the primitive days and former years of the legal sacrifices 
+could have been promised to us by the prophet as a great boon. For the 
+animals selected as victims under the old law were required to be 
+immaculate, and free from all blemish whatever, and symbolized holy 
+men free from all sin, the only instance of which character was found in 
+
+
+Christ. As, therefore, after the judgment those who are worthy of such 
+purification shall be purified even by fire, and shall be rendered 
+thoroughly sinless, and shall offer themselves to God in righteousness, 
+and be indeed victims immaculate and free from all blemish whatever, 
+they shall then certainly be “as in the primitive days, and as in former 
+years,” when the purest victims were offered, the shadow of this future 
+reality. For there shall then be left in the body and soul of the saints the 
+purity which was symbolized in the bodies of these victims. 
+
+Then, with reference to those who are worthy not of cleansing but of 
+damnation, He says, “And I will draw near to you to judgment, and I will 
+be a swift witness against evil-doers and against adulterers;” and after 
+enumerating other damnable crimes, He adds, “For I am the Lord your 
+God, and I am not changed.” It is as if He said, Though your fault has 
+changed you for the worse, and my grace has changed you for the better, 
+I am not changed. And he says that He Himself will be a witness, 
+because in His judgment He needs no witnesses; and that He will be 
+“swift,” either because He is to come suddenly, and the judgment which 
+seemed to lag shall be very swift by His unexpected arrival, or because 
+He will convince the consciences of men directly and without any prolix 
+harangue. “For,” as it is written, “in the thoughts of the wicked His 
+examination shall be conducted.”!52 And the apostle says, “The thoughts 
+accusing or else excusing, in the day in which God shall judge the 
+hidden things of men, according to my gospel in Jesus Christ.”!53 Thus, 
+then, shall the Lord be a swift witness, when He shall suddenly bring 
+back into the memory that which shall convince and punish the 
+conscience. 
+
+
+27. Of the separation of the good and the bad, which proclaim the discriminating influence of 
+the last judgment 
+
+
+The passage also which I formerly quoted for another purpose from 
+this prophet refers to the last judgment, in which he says, “They shall be 
+mine, saith the Lord Almighty, in the day in which I make up my 
+gains,”154 etc. When this diversity between the rewards and punishments 
+which distinguish the righteous from the wicked shall appear under that 
+Sun of righteousness in the brightness of life eternal—a diversity which 
+is not discerned under this sun which shines on the vanity of this life— 
+
+
+there shall then be such a judgment as has never before been. 
+
+
+28. That the law of Moses must be spiritually understood to preclude the damnable murmurs of 
+
+
+a carnal interpretation 
+
+
+In the succeeding words, “Remember the law of Moses my servant, 
+which I commanded to him in Horeb for all Israel,”155 the prophet 
+opportunely mentions precepts and statutes, after declaring the 
+important distinction hereafter to be made between those who observe 
+and those who despise the law. He intends also that they learn to 
+interpret the law spiritually, and find Christ in it, by whose judgment 
+that separation between the good and the bad is to be made. For it is not 
+without reason that the Lord Himself says to the Jews, “Had ye believed 
+Moses, ye would have believed me; for he wrote of me.”156 For by 
+receiving the law carnally, without perceiving that its earthly promises 
+were figures of things spiritual, they fell into such murmurings as 
+audaciously to say, “It is vain to serve God; and what profit is it that we 
+have kept His ordinance, and that we have walked suppliantly before the 
+face of the Lord Almighty? And now we call aliens happy; yea, they that 
+work wickedness are set up.”!57 It was these words of theirs which in a 
+manner compelled the prophet to announce the last judgment, in which 
+the wicked shall not even in appearance be happy, but shall manifestly 
+be most miserable; and in which the good shall be oppressed with not 
+even a transitory wretchedness, but shall enjoy unsullied and eternal 
+felicity. For he had previously cited some similar expressions of those 
+who said, “Every one that doeth evil is good in the sight of the Lord, and 
+such are pleasing to Him.”158 It was, I say, by understanding the law of 
+Moses carnally that they had come to murmur thus against God. And 
+hence, too, the writer of the 73d Psalm says that his feet were almost 
+gone, his steps had well-nigh slipped, because he was envious of sinners 
+while he considered their prosperity, so that he said among other things, 
+How doth God know, and is there knowledge in the Most High? and 
+again, Have I sanctified my heart in vain, and washed my hands in 
+innocency?!59 He goes on to say that his efforts to solve this most 
+difficult problem, which arises when the good seem to be wretched and 
+the wicked happy, were in vain until he went into the sanctuary of God, 
+and understood the last things.16° For in the last judgment things shall 
+
+
+not be so; but in the manifest felicity of the righteous and manifest 
+misery of the wicked quite another state of things shall appear. 
+
+
+29. Of the coming of Elias before the judgment, that the Jews may be converted to Christ by his 
+preaching and explanation of Scripture 
+
+
+After admonishing them to give heed to the law of Moses, as he 
+foresaw that for a long time to come they would not understand it 
+spiritually and rightly, he went on to say, “And, behold, I will send to 
+you Elias the Tishbite before the great and signal day of the Lord come: 
+and he shall turn the heart of the father to the son, and the heart of a 
+man to his next of kin, lest I come and utterly smite the earth.”!6! It is a 
+familiar theme in the conversation and heart of the faithful, that in the 
+last days before the judgment the Jews shall believe in the true Christ, 
+that is, our Christ, by means of this great and admirable prophet Elias 
+who shall expound the law to them. For not without reason do we hope 
+that before the coming of our Judge and Saviour Elias shall come, 
+because we have good reason to believe that he is now alive; for, as 
+Scripture most distinctly informs us,!62 he was taken up from this life in 
+a chariot of fire. When, therefore, he is come, he shall give a spiritual 
+explanation of the law which the Jews at present understand carnally, 
+and shall thus “turn the heart of the father to the son,” that is, the heart 
+of fathers to their children; for the Septuagint translators have frequently 
+put the singular for the plural number. And the meaning is, that the 
+sons, that is, the Jews, shall understand the law as the fathers, that is, 
+the prophets, and among them Moses himself, understood it. For the 
+heart of the fathers shall be turned to their children when the children 
+understand the law as their fathers did; and the heart of the children 
+shall be turned to their fathers when they have the same sentiments as 
+the fathers. The Septuagint used the expression, “and the heart of a man 
+to his next of kin,” because fathers and children are eminently 
+neighbours to one another. Another and a preferable sense can be found 
+in the words of the Septuagint translators, who have translated Scripture 
+with an eye to prophecy, the sense, viz., that Elias shall turn the heart of 
+God the Father to the Son, not certainly as if he should bring about this 
+love of the Father for the Son, but meaning that he should make it 
+known, and that the Jews also, who had previously hated, should then 
+
+
+love the Son who is our Christ. For so far as regards the Jews, God has 
+His heart turned away from our Christ, this being their conception about 
+God and Christ. But in their case the heart of God shall be turned to the 
+Son when they themselves shall turn in heart, and learn the love of the 
+Father towards the Son. The words following, “and the heart of a man to 
+his next of kin”—that is, Elias shall also turn the heart of a man to his 
+next of kin—how can we understand this better than as the heart of a 
+man to the man Christ? For though in the form of God, He is our God, 
+yet, taking the form of a servant, He condescended to become also our 
+next of kin. It is this, then, which Elias will do, “lest,” he says, “I come 
+and smite the earth utterly.” For they who mind earthly things are the 
+earth. Such are the carnal Jews until this day; and hence these murmurs 
+of theirs against God, “The wicked are pleasing to Him,” and “It is a vain 
+thing to serve God.” 163 
+
+
+30. That in the books of the Old Testament, where it is said that God shall judge the world, the 
+person of Christ is not explicitly indicated, but it plainly appears from some passages in which 
+the Lord God speaks that Christ is meant 
+
+
+There are many other passages of Scripture bearing on the last 
+judgment of God—so many, indeed, that to cite them all would swell 
+this book to an unpardonable size. Suffice it to have proved that both 
+Old and New Testament enounce the judgment. But in the Old it is not 
+so definitely declared as in the New that the judgment shall be 
+administered by Christ, that is, that Christ shall descend from heaven as 
+the Judge; for when it is therein stated by the Lord God or His prophet 
+that the Lord God shall come, we do not necessarily understand this of 
+Christ. For both the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost are the 
+Lord God. We must not, however, leave this without proof. And 
+therefore we must first show how Jesus Christ speaks in the prophetical 
+books under the title of the Lord God, while yet there can be no doubt 
+that it is Jesus Christ who speaks; so that in other passages where this is 
+not at once apparent, and where nevertheless it is said that the Lord God 
+will come to that last judgment, we may understand that Jesus Christ is 
+meant. There is a passage in the prophet Isaiah which illustrates what I 
+mean. For God says by the prophet, “Hear me, Jacob and Israel, whom I 
+call. I am the first, and I am for ever: and my hand has founded the 
+earth, and my right hand has established the heaven. I will call them, 
+
+
+and they shall stand together, and be gathered, and hear. Who has 
+declared to them these things? In love of thee I have done thy pleasure 
+upon Babylon, that I might take away the seed of the Chaldeans. I have 
+spoken, and I have called: I have brought him, and have made his way 
+prosperous. Come ye near unto me, and hear this. I have not spoken in 
+secret from the beginning; when they were made, there was I. And now 
+the Lord God and His Spirit hath sent me.”!64 It was Himself who was 
+speaking as the Lord God; and yet we should not have understood that it 
+was Jesus Christ had He not added, “And now the Lord God and His 
+Spirit hath sent me.” For He said this with reference to the form of a 
+servant, speaking of a future event as if it were past, as in the same 
+prophet we read, “He was led as a sheep to the slaughter,”!©5 not “He 
+shall be led;” but the past tense is used to express the future. And 
+prophecy constantly speaks in this way. 
+
+There is also another passage in Zechariah which plainly declares that 
+the Almighty sent the Almighty; and of what persons can this be 
+understood but of God the Father and God the Son? For it is written, 
+“Thus saith the Lord Almighty, After the glory hath He sent me unto the 
+nations which spoiled you; for he that toucheth you toucheth the apple 
+of His eye. Behold, I will bring mine hand upon them, and they shall be 
+a spoil to their servants: and ye shall know that the Lord Almighty hath 
+sent me.”!66 Observe, the Lord Almighty saith that the Lord Almighty 
+sent Him. Who can presume to understand these words of any other than 
+Christ, who is speaking to the lost sheep of the house of Israel? For He 
+says in the Gospel, “I am not sent save to the lost sheep of the house of 
+Israel,”167 which He here compared to the pupil of God’s eye, to signify 
+the profoundest love. And to this class of sheep the apostles themselves 
+belonged. But after the glory, to wit, of His resurrection—for before it 
+happened the evangelist said that “Jesus was not yet glorified”!©8—He 
+was sent unto the nations in the persons of His apostles; and thus the 
+saying of the psalm was fulfilled, “Thou wilt deliver me from the 
+contradictions of the people; Thou wilt set me as the head of the 
+nations.”169 So that those who had spoiled the Israelites, and whom the 
+Israelites had served when they were subdued by them, were not 
+themselves to be spoiled in the same fashion, but were in their own 
+persons to become the spoil of the Israelites. For this had been promised 
+to the apostles when the Lord said, “I will make you fishers of men.”!7° 
+
+
+And to one of them He says, “From henceforth thou shalt catch men.”!71 
+They were then to become a spoil, but in a good sense, as those who are 
+snatched from that strong one when he is bound by a stronger.1!72 
+
+In like manner the Lord, speaking by the same prophet, says, “And it 
+shall come to pass in that day, that I will seek to destroy all the nations 
+that come against Jerusalem. And I will pour upon the house of David, 
+and upon the inhabitants of Jerusalem, the spirit of grace and mercy; 
+and they shall look upon me because they have insulted me, and they 
+shall mourn for Him as for one very dear, and shall be in bitterness as 
+for an only-begotten.”!73 To whom but to God does it belong to destroy 
+all the nations that are hostile to the holy city Jerusalem, which “come 
+against it,” that is, are opposed to it, or, as some translate, “come upon 
+it,” as if putting it down under them; or to pour out upon the house of 
+David and the inhabitants of Jerusalem the spirit of grace and mercy? 
+This belongs doubtless to God, and it is to God the prophet ascribes the 
+words; and yet Christ shows that He is the God who does these so great 
+and divine things, when He goes on to say, “And they shall look upon 
+me because they have insulted me, and they shall mourn for Him as if 
+for one very dear (or beloved), and shall be in bitterness for Him as for 
+an only-begotten.” For in that day the Jews—those of them, at least, 
+who shall receive the spirit of grace and mercy—when they see Him 
+coming in His majesty, and recognise that it is He whom they, in the 
+person of their parents, insulted when He came before in His 
+humiliation, shall repent of insulting Him in His passion: and their 
+parents themselves, who were the perpetrators of this huge impiety, 
+shall see Him when they rise; but this will be only for their punishment, 
+and not for their correction. It is not of them we are to understand the 
+words, “And I will pour upon the house of David, and upon the 
+inhabitants of Jerusalem, the spirit of grace and mercy, and they shall 
+look upon me because they have insulted me;” but we are to understand 
+the words of their descendants, who shall at that time believe through 
+Elias. But as we say to the Jews, You killed Christ, although it was their 
+parents who did so, so these persons shall grieve that they in some sort 
+did what their progenitors did. Although, therefore, those that receive 
+the spirit of mercy and grace, and believe, shall not be condemned with 
+their impious parents, yet they shall mourn as if they themselves had 
+done what their parents did. Their grief shall arise not so much from 
+
+
+guilt as from pious affection. Certainly the words which the Septuagint 
+have translated, “They shall look upon me because they insulted me,” 
+stand in the Hebrew, “They shall look upon me whom they pierced.”!74 
+And by this word the crucifixion of Christ is certainly more plainly 
+indicated. But the Septuagint translators preferred to allude to the insult 
+which was involved in His whole passion. For in point of fact they 
+insulted Him both when He was arrested and when He was bound, when 
+He was judged, when He was mocked by the robe they put on Him and 
+the homage they did on bended knee, when He was crowned with thorns 
+and struck with a rod on the head, when He bore His cross, and when at 
+last He hung upon the tree. And therefore we recognise more fully the 
+Lord’s passion when we do not confine ourselves to one interpretation, 
+but combine both, and read both “insulted” and “pierced.” 
+
+When, therefore, we read in the prophetical books that God is to come 
+to do judgment at the last, from the mere mention of the judgment, and 
+although there is nothing else to determine the meaning, we must gather 
+that Christ is meant; for though the Father will judge, He will judge by 
+the coming of the Son. For He Himself, by His own manifested presence, 
+“judges no man, but has committed all judgment to the Son;”!75 for as 
+the Son was judged as a man, He shall also judge in human form. For it 
+is none but He of whom God speaks by Isaiah under the name of Jacob 
+and Israel, of whose seed Christ took a body, as it is written, “Jacob is 
+my servant, I will uphold Him; Israel is mine elect, my Spirit has 
+assumed Him: I have put my Spirit upon Him; He shall bring forth 
+judgment to the Gentiles. He shall not cry, nor cease, neither shall His 
+voice be heard without. A bruised reed shall He not break, and the 
+smoking flax shall He not quench: but in truth shall He bring forth 
+judgment. He shall shine and shall not be broken, until He sets judgment 
+in the earth: and the nations shall hope in His name.”!76 The Hebrew has 
+not “Jacob” and “Israel;” but the Septuagint translators, wishing to show 
+the significance of the expression “my servant,” and that it refers to the 
+form of a servant in which the Most High humbled Himself, inserted the 
+name of that man from whose stock He took the form of a servant. The 
+Holy Spirit was given to Him, and was manifested, as the evangelist 
+testifies, in the form of a dove.!77 He brought forth judgment to the 
+Gentiles, because He predicted what was hidden from them. In His 
+meekness He did not cry, nor did He cease to proclaim the truth. But His 
+
+
+voice was not heard, nor is it heard, without, because He is not obeyed 
+by those who are outside of His body. And the Jews themselves, who 
+persecuted Him, He did not break, though as a bruised reed they had 
+lost their integrity, and as smoking flax their light was quenched; for He 
+spared them, having come to be judged and not yet to judge. He brought 
+forth judgment in truth, declaring that they should be punished did they 
+persist in their wickedness. His face shone on the Mount,!78 His fame in 
+the world. He is not broken nor overcome, because neither in Himself 
+nor in His Church has persecution prevailed to annihilate Him. And 
+therefore that has not, and shall not, be brought about which His 
+enemies said or say, “When shall He die, and His name perish?”!79 “until 
+He set judgment in the earth.” Behold, the hidden thing which we were 
+seeking is discovered. For this is the last judgment, which He will set in 
+the earth when He comes from heaven. And it is in Him, too, we already 
+see the concluding expression of the prophecy fulfilled: “In His name 
+shall the nations hope.” And by this fulfilment, which no one can deny, 
+men are encouraged to believe in that which is most impudently denied. 
+For who could have hoped for that which even those who do not yet 
+believe in Christ now see fulfilled among us, and which is so undeniable 
+that they can but gnash their teeth and pine away? Who, I say, could 
+have hoped that the nations would hope in the name of Christ, when He 
+was arrested, bound, scourged, mocked, crucified, when even the 
+disciples themselves had lost the hope which they had begun to have in 
+Him? The hope which was then entertained scarcely by the one thief on 
+the cross, is now cherished by nations everywhere on the earth, who are 
+marked with the sign of the cross on which He died that they may not 
+die eternally. 
+
+That the last judgment, then, shall be administered by Jesus Christ in 
+the manner predicted in the sacred writings is denied or doubted by no 
+one, unless by those who, through some incredible animosity or 
+blindness, decline to believe these writings, though already their truth is 
+demonstrated to all the world. And at or in connection with that 
+judgment the following events shall come to pass, as we have learned: 
+Elias the Tishbite shall come; the Jews shall believe; Antichrist shall 
+persecute; Christ shall judge; the dead shall rise; the good and the 
+wicked shall be separated; the world shall be burned and renewed. All 
+these things, we believe, shall come to pass; but how, or in what order, 
+
+
+human understanding cannot perfectly teach us, but only the experience 
+of the events themselves. My opinion, however, is, that they will happen 
+in the order in which I have related them. 
+
+Two books yet remain to be written by me, in order to complete, by 
+God’s help, what I promised. One of these will explain the punishment of 
+the wicked, the other the happiness of the righteous; and in them I shall 
+be at special pains to refute, by God’s grace, the arguments by which 
+some unhappy creatures seem to themselves to undermine the divine 
+promises and threatenings, and to ridicule as empty words statements 
+which are the most salutary nutriment of faith. But they who are 
+instructed in divine things hold the truth and omnipotence of God to be 
+the strongest arguments in favour of those things which, however 
+incredible they seem to men, are yet contained in the Scriptures, whose 
+truth has already in many ways been proved; for they are sure that God 
+can in no wise lie, and that He can do what is impossible to the 
+unbelieving. 
+
+
+1 Matt. viii. 29. 
+
+2 Rom. ix. 14. 
+
+3 Rom. xi. 33. 
+
+4 Ps. cxliv. 4. 
+
+5 Eccles. i. 2, 3. 
+
+6 Eccles. ii. 13, 14. 
+7 Eccles. viii. 14. 
+
+8 Eccles. xii. 13, 14. 
+2 Rom. iii. 20-22. 
+10 Matt. xiii. 52. 
+
+11 Matt. xi. 22. 
+
+12 Matt. xi. 24. 
+
+13 Matt. xii. 41, 42. 
+14 Augustine quotes the whole passage, Matt. xiii. 37-43. 
+15 Matt. xix. 28. 
+
+16 Matt. xii. 27. 
+
+
+17 1 Cor. xv. 10. 
+
+
+18 1 Cor. vi. 3. 
+
+19 Ep. 199. 
+
+20 Matt. xxv. 34-41, given in full. 
+21 John v. 22-24. 
+
+22 John v. 25, 26. 
+
+23 Matt. viii. 22. 
+
+24 2 Cor. v. 14, 15. 
+
+25 Ps, ci. 1. 
+
+26 John v. 28, 29. 
+
+27 Rev. xx. 1-6. The whole passage is quoted. 
+28 2 Pet. iii. 8. 
+
+29 Serm. 259. 
+
+30 Milliarii. 
+
+31 Mark iii. 27; “Vasa” for “goods.” 
+32 Matt. xix. 29. 
+
+33 2 Cor. vi. 10. 
+
+34 Ps. cv. 8. 
+
+35 Col. i. 13. 
+
+36 2 Tim. ii. 19. 
+
+37 Ps, cxxiii. 2. 
+
+38 Rev. xx. 9, 10. 
+
+39 1 John ii. 19. 
+
+40 Matt. xxiv. 12. 
+
+41 Between His first and second coming. 
+42 Matt. xxv. 34. 
+
+43 Matt. xxviii. 20. 
+
+44 Matt. xiii. 39-41. 
+
+45 Matt. v. 19. 
+
+46 Matt. xxiii. 3. 
+
+47 Matt. v. 20. 
+
+
+48 Col. iii. 1, 2. 
+
+
+49 Phil. iii. 20. 
+
+50 Phil. ii. 21. 
+
+51 Matt. xviii. 18. 
+52 1 Cor. v. 12. 
+53 Rev. xx. 4. 
+
+94 Rey. xiv. 13. 
+55 Rom. xiv. 9. 
+56 2 Cor. vi. 14. 
+°7 And, as Augustine remarks, are therefore called cadavera, from cadere, “to fall.” 
+58 Col. iii. 1. 
+
+59 Rom. vi. 4. 
+
+60 Eph. v. 14. 
+
+61 Ecclus. ii. 7. 
+62 Rom. xiv. 4. 
+63 1 Cor. x. 12. 
+64 1 Peter ii. 9. 
+65 Matt. xxv. 41. 
+66 Ps, lxix. 9. 
+
+67 Isa. xxvi. 11. 
+68 Thess. ii. 8. 
+
+69 Ch. 24. 
+
+70 Cor. vii. 31, 32. 
+71 Col. iii. 3. 
+
+72 Matt. viii. 22. 
+73 Rom. viii. 10. 
+
+
+74“Apud inferos,” ie. in hell, in the sense in which the word is used in the Psalms and in the 
+Creed. 
+
+
+75 Matt. xxv. 46. 
+76 Rev. xxi. 1. 
+77 Rev. xv. 2. 
+
+
+78 Rev. xxi. 2-5. 
+
+
+79 Isa. xlv. 8. 
+
+80 Ps, xlii. 3. 
+
+81 Ps, vi. 6. 
+
+82 Ps. xxxviii. 9. 
+
+83 Ps. xxxix. 2. 
+
+84 Cor. v. 4. 
+
+85 Rom. viii. 23. 
+
+86 Rom. ix. 2. 
+
+87 Augustine therefore read “«n, and not with the Vulgate, vixn. 
+88 Cor. xv. 55. 
+
+89 John i. 8. 
+
+90 Pet. iii. 3-13. The whole passage is quoted by Augustine. 
+
+
+91 Thess. ii. 1-11. Whole passage given in the Latin. In ver. 3 refuga is used instead of the 
+Vulgate’s discessio. 
+
+
+92 Augustine adds the words, “Sicut dicimus, Sedet in amicum, id est, velut amicus; vel si quid 
+aliud isto locutionis genere dici solet.” 
+
+
+93 Suetonius’ Nero, c. 57. 
+94 John ii. 18, 19. 
+95 Thess. iv. 13-16. 
+96 Cor. xv. 22. 
+
+97 Cor. xv. 36. 
+
+98 Gen. iii. 19. 
+
+99 Cor. xv. 51. 
+
+100 Tsa. xxvi. 19. 
+101 Isa. lxvi. 12-16. 
+102 Gal. iv. 26. 
+
+103 Matt. v. 8. 
+
+104 Isa. lxv. 17-19. 
+105 Phil. iii. 19. 
+
+106 Rom. viii. 6. 
+
+
+107 Gen. vi. 3. 
+
+
+108 Luke xii. 49. 
+
+109 Acts ii. 3. 
+
+110 Matt. x. 34. 
+
+111 Heb. iv. 12. 
+
+112 Song of Sol. ii. 5. 
+
+113 Isa. Ixvi. 18. 
+
+114 Rom. iii. 23. 
+
+115 Isa. lxvi. 22-24. 
+
+116 As the Vulgate: cadavera virorum. 
+
+
+117 Here Augustine inserts the remark, “Who does not see that cadavera (carcases) are so called 
+
+
+from cadendo (falling)?” 
+
+118 Matt. xxv. 30. 
+
+119 Cor. xv. 28. 
+
+120 John iii. 9. 
+
+120 Isa. lvi. 5. 
+
+122 Dan. vii. 15-28. Passage cited at length. 
+123 Dan. xii. 1-3. 
+
+124 John v. 28. 
+
+125 Gen. xvii. 5, and xxii. 18. 
+126 Dan. xii. 13. 
+
+127 Ps, cii. 25-27. 
+
+128 1 Cor. vii. 31. 
+
+129 1 John ii. 17. 
+
+130 Matt. xxiv. 35. 
+
+131 2 Pet. iii. 6. 
+
+132 2 Pet. iii. 10, 11. 
+
+133 Matt. xxiv. 29. 
+
+134 Æneid, ii. 694. 
+
+135 Ps. 1. 3-5. 
+
+136 Isa. liii. 7. 
+
+
+137 Matt. xxvi. 63. 
+
+
+138 Ch. 21. 
+
+139 1 Thess. iv. 17. 
+
+140 Hos. vi. 6. 
+
+141 Ch. 6. 
+
+142 Matt. xxv. 34. 
+
+143 Tn his Proem. ad Mal. 
+144 See Smith’s Bible Dict. 
+145 Mal. iii. 1-6. Whole passage quoted. 
+146 Isa. iv. 4. 
+
+147 1 John i. 8. 
+
+148 Job xiv. 4. 
+
+149 Rom. i. 17. 
+
+150 Isa. Ixv. 22. 
+
+151 Prov. iii. 18. 
+
+152 Wisd. i. 9. 
+
+153 Rom. ii. 15, 16. 
+
+154 Mal. iii. 17-iv. 3. 
+
+155 Mal. iv. 4. 
+
+156 John v. 46. 
+
+157 Mal. iii. 14, 15. 
+
+158 Mal. ii. 17. 
+
+159 In innocentibus. 
+
+160 Ps, lxxiii. 
+
+161 Mal. iv. 5, 6. 
+
+162 2 Kings ii. 11. 
+
+163 Mal. ii. 17, iii. 14. 
+164 Īsa. xlviii. 12-16. 
+165 Isa. liii. 7. 
+
+166 Zech. ii. 8, 9. 
+
+167 Matt. xv. 24. 
+
+
+168 John vii. 39. 
+
+
+169 Ps, xviii. 43. 
+170 Matt. iv. 19. 
+171 Luke v. 10. 
+
+172 Matt. xii. 29. 
+173 Zech. xii. 9, 10. 
+174 So the Vulgate. 
+175 John v. 22. 
+
+176 Tsa. xlii. 1—4. 
+177 John i. 32. 
+
+178 Matt. xvii. 1, 2. 
+
+
+179 Ps. xli. 5. 
+
+
+BOOK TWENTY-FIRST 
+
+
+ARGUMENT 
+
+
+OF THE END RESERVED FOR THE CITY OF THE DEVIL, NAMELY, THE ETERNAL PUNISHMENT OF THE 
+
+
+DAMNED; AND OF THE ARGUMENTS WHICH UNBELIEF BRINGS AGAINST IT. 
+
+
+1. Of the order of the discussion, which requires that we first speak of the eternal punishment of 
+
+
+the lost in company with the devil, and then of the eternal happiness of the saints 
+
+
+[res with such ability as God may grant me, to discuss in this 
+book more thoroughly the nature of the punishment which shall be 
+assigned to the devil and all his retainers, when the two cities, the one of 
+God, the other of the devil, shall have reached their proper ends through 
+Jesus Christ our Lord, the Judge of quick and dead. And I have adopted 
+this order, and preferred to speak, first of the punishment of the devils, 
+and afterwards of the blessedness of the saints, because the body 
+partakes of either destiny; and it seems to be more incredible that bodies 
+endure in everlasting torments than that they continue to exist without 
+any pain in everlasting felicity. Consequently, when I shall have 
+demonstrated that that punishment ought not to be incredible, this will 
+materially aid me in proving that which is much more credible, viz. the 
+immortality of the bodies of the saints which are delivered from all pain. 
+Neither is this order out of harmony with the divine writings, in which 
+sometimes, indeed, the blessedness of the good is placed first, as in the 
+words, “They that have done good, unto the resurrection of life; and they 
+that have done evil, unto the resurrection of damnation;”! but 
+sometimes also last, as, “The Son of man shall send forth His angels, and 
+they shall gather out of His kingdom all things which offend, and shall 
+cast them into a furnace of fire: there shall be wailing and gnashing of 
+teeth. Then shall the righteous shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of 
+His Father;”2 and that, “These shall go away into everlasting 
+punishment, but the righteous into life eternal.”? And though we have 
+not room to cite instances, any one who examines the prophets will find 
+
+
+that they adopt now the one arrangement and now the other. My own 
+reason for following the latter order I have given. 
+
+
+2. Whether it is possible for bodies to last for ever in burning fire 
+
+
+What, then, can I adduce to convince those who refuse to believe that 
+human bodies, animated and living, can not only survive death, but also 
+last in the torments of everlasting fires? They will not allow us to refer 
+this simply to the power of the Almighty, but demand that we persuade 
+them by some example. If, then, we reply to them, that there are animals 
+which certainly are corruptible, because they are mortal, and which yet 
+live in the midst of flames; and likewise, that in springs of water so hot 
+that no one can put his hand in it with impunity a species of worm is 
+found, which not only lives there, but cannot live elsewhere; they either 
+refuse to believe these facts unless we can show them, or, if we are in 
+circumstances to prove them by ocular demonstration or by adequate 
+testimony, they contend, with the same scepticism, that these facts are 
+not examples of what we seek to prove, inasmuch as these animals do 
+not live for ever, and besides, they live in that blaze of heat without 
+pain, the element of fire being congenial to their nature, and causing it 
+to thrive and not to suffer—just as if it were not more incredible that it 
+should thrive than that it should suffer in such circumstances. It is 
+strange that anything should suffer in fire and yet live, but stranger that 
+it should live in fire and not suffer. If, then, the latter be believed, why 
+not also the former? 
+
+
+3. Whether bodily suffering necessarily terminates in the destruction of the flesh 
+
+
+But, say they, there is no body which can suffer and cannot also die. 
+How do we know this? For who can say with certainty that the devils do 
+not suffer in their bodies, when they own that they are grievously 
+tormented? And if it is replied that there is no earthly body—that is to 
+say, no solid and perceptible body, or, in one word, no flesh—which can 
+suffer and cannot die, is not this to tell us only what men have gathered 
+from experience and their bodily senses? For they indeed have no 
+acquaintance with any flesh but that which is mortal; and this is their 
+whole argument, that what they have had no experience of they judge 
+quite impossible. For we cannot call it reasoning to make pain a 
+
+
+presumption of death, while, in fact, it is rather a sign of life. For though 
+it be a question whether that which suffers can continue to live for ever, 
+yet it is certain that everything which suffers pain does live, and that 
+pain can exist only in a living subject. It is necessary, therefore, that he 
+who is pained be living, not necessary that pain kill him; for every pain 
+does not kill even those mortal bodies of ours which are destined to die. 
+And that any pain kills them is caused by the circumstance that the soul 
+is so connected with the body that it succumbs to great pain and 
+withdraws; for the structure of our members and vital parts is so infirm 
+that it cannot bear up against that violence which causes great or 
+extreme agony. But in the life to come this connection of soul and body 
+is of such a kind, that as it is dissolved by no lapse of time, so neither is 
+it burst asunder by any pain. And so, although it be true that in this 
+world there is no flesh which can suffer pain and yet cannot die, yet in 
+the world to come there shall be flesh such as now there is not, as there 
+will also be death such as now there is not. For death will not be 
+abolished, but will be eternal, since the soul will neither be able to enjoy 
+God and live, nor to die and escape the pains of the body. The first death 
+drives the soul from the body against her will: the second death holds 
+the soul in the body against her will. The two have this in common, that 
+the soul suffers against her will what her own body inflicts. 
+
+Our opponents, too, make much of this, that in this world there is no 
+flesh which can suffer pain and cannot die; while they make nothing of 
+the fact that there is something which is greater than the body. For the 
+spirit, whose presence animates and rules the body, can both suffer pain 
+and cannot die. Here then is something which, though it can feel pain, is 
+immortal. And this capacity, which we now see in the spirit of all, shall 
+be hereafter in the bodies of the damned. Moreover, if we attend to the 
+matter a little more closely, we see that what is called bodily pain is 
+rather to be referred to the soul. For it is the soul, not the body, which is 
+pained, even when the pain originates with the body—the soul feeling 
+pain at the point where the body is hurt. As then we speak of bodies 
+feeling and living, though the feeling and life of the body are from the 
+soul, so also we speak of bodies being pained, though no pain can be 
+suffered by the body apart from the soul. (The soul, then, is pained with 
+the body in that part where something occurs to hurt it) and it is pained 
+alone, though it be in the body, when some invisible cause distresses it, 
+
+
+while the body is safe and sound. Even when not associated with the 
+body it is pained; for certainly that rich man was suffering in hell when 
+he cried, “I am tormented in this flame.”* But as for the body, it suffers 
+no pain when it is soulless; and even when animate it can suffer only by 
+the soul’s suffering. If, therefore, we might draw a just presumption from 
+the existence of pain to that of death, and conclude that where pain can 
+be felt death can occur, death would rather be the property of the soul, 
+for to it pain more peculiarly belongs. But, seeing that that which suffers 
+most cannot die, what ground is there for supposing that those bodies, 
+because destined to suffer, are therefore destined to die? The Platonists 
+indeed maintained that these earthly bodies and dying members gave 
+rise to the fears, desires, griefs, and joys of the soul. “Hence,” says Virgil 
+(i.e. from these earthly bodies and dying members), 
+
+
+“Hence wild desires and grovelling fears, 
+
+
+And human laughter, human tears.”° 
+
+
+But in the fourteenth book of this work,© we have proved that, 
+according to the Platonists’ own theory, souls, even when purged from 
+all pollution of the body, are yet possessed by a monstrous desire to 
+return again into their bodies. But where desire can exist, certainly pain 
+also can exist; for desire frustrated, either by missing what it aims at or 
+losing what it had attained, is turned into pain. And therefore, if the 
+soul, which is either the only or the chief sufferer, has yet a kind of 
+immortality of its own, it is inconsequent to say that because the bodies 
+of the damned shall suffer pain, therefore they shall die. (In fine, if the 
+body causes the soul to suffer, why can the body not cause death as well 
+as suffering, unless because it does not follow that what causes pain 
+causes death as well?) And why then is it incredible that these fires can 
+cause pain but not death to those bodies we speak of, just as the bodies 
+themselves cause pain, but not therefore death, to the souls? Pain is 
+therefore no necessary presumption of death. 
+
+
+4. Examples from nature proving that bodies may remain unconsumed and alive in fire 
+
+
+If, therefore, the salamander lives in fire, as naturalists? have 
+recorded, and if certain famous mountains of Sicily have been 
+
+
+continually on fire from the remotest antiquity until now, and yet 
+remain entire, these are sufficiently convincing examples that everything 
+which burns is not consumed. As the soul, too, is a proof that not 
+everything which can suffer pain can also die, why then do they yet 
+demand that we produce real examples to prove that it is not incredible 
+that the bodies of men condemned to everlasting punishment may retain 
+their soul in the fire, may burn without being consumed, and may suffer 
+without perishing? For suitable properties will be communicated to the 
+substance of the flesh by Him who has endowed the things we see with 
+so marvellous and diverse properties, that their very multitude prevents 
+our wonder. For who but God the Creator of all things has given to the 
+flesh of the peacock its antiseptic property? This property, when I first 
+heard of it, seemed to me incredible; but it happened at Carthage that a 
+bird of this kind was cooked and served up to me, and, taking a suitable 
+slice of flesh from its breast, I ordered it to be kept, and when it had 
+been kept as many days as make any other flesh stinking, it was 
+produced and set before me, and emitted no offensive smell. And after it 
+had been laid by for thirty days and more, it was still in the same state; 
+and a year after, the same still, except that it was a little more shrivelled, 
+and drier. Who gave to chaff such power to freeze that it preserves snow 
+buried under it, and such power to warm that it ripens green fruit? 
+
+But who can explain the strange properties of fire itself, which 
+blackens everything it burns, though itself bright; and which, though of 
+the most beautiful colours, discolours almost all it touches and feeds 
+upon, and turns blazing fuel into grimy cinders? Still this is not laid 
+down as an absolutely uniform law; for, on the contrary, stones baked in 
+glowing fire themselves also glow, and though the fire be rather of a red 
+hue, and they white, yet white is congruous with light, and black with 
+darkness. Thus, though the fire burns the wood in calcining the stones, 
+these contrary effects do not result from the contrariety of the materials. 
+For though wood and stone differ, they are not contraries, like black and 
+white, the one of which colours is produced in the stones, while the 
+other is produced in the wood by the same action of fire, which imparts 
+its own brightness to the former, while it begrimes the latter, and which 
+could have no effect on the one were it not fed by the other. Then what 
+wonderful properties do we find in charcoal, which is so brittle that a 
+light tap breaks it and a slight pressure pulverizes it, and yet is so strong 
+
+
+that no moisture rots it, nor any time causes it to decay. So enduring is 
+it, that it is customary in laying down landmarks to put charcoal 
+underneath them, so that if, after the longest interval, any one raises an 
+action, and pleads that there is no boundary stone, he may be convicted 
+by the charcoal below. What then has enabled it to last so long without 
+rotting, though buried in the damp earth in which [its original] wood 
+rots, except this same fire which consumes all things? 
+
+Again, let us consider the wonders of lime; for besides, growing white 
+in fire, which makes other things black, and of which I have already said 
+enough, it has also a mysterious property of conceiving fire within it. 
+Itself cold to the touch, it yet has a hidden store of fire, which is not at 
+once apparent to our senses, but which experience teaches us, lies as it 
+were slumbering within it even while unseen. And it is for this reason 
+called “quick lime,” as if the fire were the invisible soul quickening the 
+visible substance or body. But the marvellous thing is, that this fire is 
+kindled when it is extinguished. For to disengage the hidden fire the 
+lime is moistened or drenched with water, and then, though it be cold 
+before, it becomes hot by that very application which cools what is hot. 
+As if the fire were departing from the lime and breathing its last, it no 
+longer lies hid, but appears; and then the lime lying in the coldness of 
+death cannot be requickened, and what we before called “quick,” we 
+now call “slaked.” What can be stranger than this? Yet there is a greater 
+marvel still. For if you treat the lime, not with water, but with oil, which 
+is as fuel to fire, no amount of oil will heat it. Now if this marvel had 
+been told us of some Indian mineral which we had no opportunity of 
+experimenting upon, we should either have forthwith pronounced it a 
+falsehood, or certainly should have been greatly astonished. But things 
+that daily present themselves to our own observation we despise, not 
+because they are really less marvellous, but because they are common; 
+so that even some products of India itself, remote as it is from ourselves, 
+cease to excite our admiration as soon as we can admire them at our 
+leisure.8 
+
+The diamond is a stone possessed by many among ourselves, 
+especially by jewellers and lapidaries, and the stone is so hard that it can 
+be wrought neither by iron nor fire, nor, they say, by anything at all 
+except goat’s blood. But do you suppose it is as much admired by those 
+who own it and are familiar with its properties as by those to whom it is 
+
+
+shown for the first time? Persons who have not seen it perhaps do not 
+believe what is said of it, or if they do, they wonder as at a thing beyond 
+their experience; and if they happen to see it, still they marvel because 
+they are unused to it, but gradually familiar experience [of it] dulls their 
+admiration. We know that the loadstone has a wonderful power of 
+attracting iron. When I first saw it I was thunderstruck, for I saw an iron 
+ring attracted and suspended by the stone; and then, as if it had 
+communicated its own property to the iron it attracted, and had made it 
+a substance like itself, this ring was put near another, and lifted it up; 
+and as the first ring clung to the magnet, so did the second ring to the 
+first. A third and a fourth were similarly added, so that there hung from 
+the stone a kind of chain of rings, with their hoops connected, not 
+interlinking, but attached together by their outer surface. Who would 
+not be amazed at this virtue of the stone, subsisting as it does not only in 
+itself, but transmitted through so many suspended rings, and binding 
+them together by invisible links? Yet far more astonishing is what I 
+heard about this stone from my brother in the episcopate, Severus 
+bishop of Milevis. He told me that Bathanarius, once count of Africa, 
+when the bishop was dining with him, produced a magnet, and held it 
+under a silver plate on which he placed a bit of iron; then as he moved 
+his hand with the magnet underneath the plate, the iron upon the plate 
+moved about accordingly. The intervening silver was not affected at all, 
+but precisely as the magnet was moved backwards and forwards below 
+it, no matter how quickly, so was the iron attracted above. I have related 
+what I myself have witnessed; I have related what I was told by one 
+whom I trust as I trust my own eyes. Let me further say what I have read 
+about this magnet. When a diamond is laid near it, it does not lift iron; 
+or if it has already lifted it, as soon as the diamond approaches, it drops 
+it. These stones come from India. But if we cease to admire them 
+because they are now familiar, how much less must they admire them 
+who procure them very easily and send them to us? Perhaps they are 
+held as cheap as we hold lime, which, because it is common, we think 
+nothing of, though it has the strange property of burning when water, 
+which is wont to quench fire, is poured on it, and of remaining cool 
+when mixed with oil, which ordinarily feeds fire. 
+
+
+5. That there are many things which reason cannot account for, and which are nevertheless true 
+
+
+Nevertheless, when we declare the miracles which God has wrought, 
+or will yet work, and which we cannot bring under the very eyes of men, 
+sceptics keep demanding that we shall explain these marvels to reason. 
+And because we cannot do so, inasmuch as they are above human 
+comprehension, they suppose we are speaking falsely. These persons 
+themselves, therefore, ought to account for all these marvels which we 
+either can or do see. And if they perceive that this is impossible for man 
+to do, they should acknowledge that it cannot be concluded that a thing 
+has not been or shall not be because it cannot be reconciled to reason, 
+since there are things now in existence of which the same is true. I will 
+not, then, detail the multitude of marvels which are related in books, 
+and which refer not to things that happened once and passed away, but 
+that are permanent in certain places, where, if any one has the desire 
+and opportunity, he may ascertain their truth; but a few only I recount. 
+The following are some of the marvels men tell us:—The salt of 
+Agrigentum in Sicily, when thrown into the fire, becomes fluid as if it 
+were in water, but in the water it crackles as if it were in the fire. The 
+Garamante have a fountain? so cold by day that no one can drink it, so 
+hot by night no one can touch it. In Epirus, too, there is a fountain 
+which, like all others, quenches lighted torches, but, unlike all others, 
+lights quenched torches. There is a stone found in Arcadia, and called 
+asbestos, because once lit it cannot be put out. The wood of a certain 
+kind of Egyptian fig-tree sinks in water, and does not float like other 
+wood; and, stranger still, when it has been sunk to the bottom for some 
+time, it rises again to the surface, though nature requires that when 
+soaked in water it should be heavier than ever. Then there are the apples 
+of Sodom, which grow indeed to an appearance of ripeness, but, when 
+you touch them with hand or tooth, the peel cracks, and they crumble 
+into dust and ashes. The Persian stone pyrites burns the hand when it is 
+tightly held in it, and so gets its name from fire. In Persia, too, there is 
+found another stone called selenite, because its interior brilliancy waxes 
+and wanes with the moon. Then in Cappadocia the mares are 
+impregnated by the wind, and their foals live only three years. Tilon, an 
+Indian island, has this advantage over all other lands, that no tree which 
+grows in it ever loses its foliage. 
+
+These and numberless other marvels recorded in the history, not of 
+past events, but of permanent localities, I have no time to enlarge upon 
+
+
+and diverge from my main object; but let those sceptics who refuse to 
+credit the divine writings give me, if they can, a rational account of 
+them. For their only ground of unbelief in the Scriptures is, that they 
+contain incredible things, just such as I have been recounting. For, say 
+they, reason cannot admit that flesh burn and remain unconsumed, 
+suffer without dying. Mighty reasoners, indeed, who are competent to 
+give the reason of all the marvels that exist! Let them then give us the 
+reason of the few things we have cited, and which, if they did not know 
+they existed, and were only assured by us they would at some future 
+time occur, they would believe still less than that which they now refuse 
+to credit on our word. For which of them would believe us if, instead of 
+saying that the living bodies of men hereafter will be such as to endure 
+everlasting pain and fire without ever dying, we were to say that in the 
+world to come there will be salt which becomes liquid in fire as if it 
+were in water, and crackles in water as if it were in fire; or that there 
+will be a fountain whose water in the chill air of night is so hot that it 
+cannot be touched, while in the heat of day it is so cold that it cannot be 
+drunk; or that there will be a stone which by its own heat burns the 
+hand when tightly held, or a stone which cannot be extinguished if it has 
+been lit in any part; or any of those wonders I have cited, while omitting 
+numberless others? If we were to say that these things would be found in 
+the world to come, and our sceptics were to reply, “If you wish us to 
+believe these things, satisfy our reason about each of them,” we should 
+confess that we could not, because the frail comprehension of man 
+cannot master these and such-like wonders of God’s working; and that 
+yet our reason was thoroughly convinced that the Almighty does nothing 
+without reason, though the frail mind of man cannot explain the reason; 
+and that while we are in many instances uncertain what He intends, yet 
+that it is always most certain that nothing which He intends is 
+impossible to Him; and that when He declares His mind, we believe Him 
+whom we cannot believe to be either powerless or false. Nevertheless 
+these cavillers at faith and exactors of reason, how do they dispose of 
+those things of which a reason cannot be given, and which yet exist, 
+though in apparent contrariety to the nature of things? If we had 
+announced that these things were to be, these sceptics would have 
+demanded from us the reason of them, as they do in the case of those 
+things which we are announcing as destined to be. And consequently, as 
+
+
+these present marvels are not non-existent, though human reason and 
+discourse are lost in such works of God, so those things we speak of are 
+not impossible because inexplicable; for in this particular they are in the 
+same predicament as the marvels of earth. 
+
+
+6. That all marvels are not of nature’s production, but that some are due to human ingenuity 
+
+
+and others to diabolic contrivance 
+
+
+At this point they will perhaps reply, “These things have no existence; 
+we don’t believe one of them; they are travellers’ tales and fictitious 
+romances;” and they may add what has the appearance of argument, and 
+say, “If you believe such things as these, believe what is recorded in the 
+same books, that there was or is a temple of Venus in which a 
+candelabrum set in the open air holds a lamp, which burns so strongly 
+that no storm or rain extinguishes it, and which is therefore called, like 
+the stone mentioned above, the asbestos or inextinguishable lamp.” They 
+may say this with the intention of putting us into a dilemma: for if we 
+say this is incredible, then we shall impugn the truth of the other 
+recorded marvels; if, on the other hand, we admit that this is credible, 
+we shall avouch the pagan deities. But, as I have already said in the 
+eighteenth book of this work, we do not hold it necessary to believe all 
+that profane history contains, since, as Varro says, even historians 
+themselves disagree on so many points, that one would think they 
+intended and were at pains to do so; but we believe, if we are disposed, 
+those things which are not contradicted by these books, which we do not 
+hesitate to say we are bound to believe. But as to those permanent 
+miracles of nature, whereby we wish to persuade the sceptical of the 
+miracles of the world to come, those are quite sufficient for our purpose 
+which we ourselves can observe, or of which it is not difficult to find 
+trustworthy witnesses. Moreover, that temple of Venus, with its 
+inextinguishable lamp, so far from hemming us into a corner, opens an 
+advantageous field to our argument. For to this inextinguishable lamp 
+we add a host of marvels wrought by men, or by magic—that is, by men 
+under the influence of devils, or by the devils directly—for such marvels 
+we cannot deny without impugning the truth of the sacred Scriptures we 
+believe. That lamp, therefore, was either by some mechanical and 
+human device fitted with asbestos, or it was arranged by magical art in 
+
+
+order that the worshippers might be astonished, or some devil under the 
+name of Venus so signally manifested himself that this prodigy both 
+began and became permanent. Now devils are attracted to dwell in 
+certain temples by means of the creatures (God’s creatures, not theirs), 
+who present to them what suits their various tastes. They are attracted 
+not by food like animals, but, like spirits, by such symbols as suit their 
+taste, various kinds of stones, woods, plants, animals, songs, rites. And 
+that men may provide these attractions, the devils first of all cunningly 
+seduce them, either by imbuing their hearts with a secret poison, or by 
+revealing themselves under a friendly guise, and thus make a few of 
+them their disciples, who become the instructors of the multitude. For 
+unless they first instructed men, it were impossible to know what each of 
+them desires, what they shrink from, by what name they should be 
+invoked or constrained to be present. Hence the origin of magic and 
+magicians. But, above all, they possess the hearts of men, and are chiefly 
+proud of this possession when they transform themselves into angels of 
+light. Very many things that occur, therefore, are their doing; and these 
+deeds of theirs we ought all the more carefully to shun as we 
+acknowledge them to be very surprising. And yet these very deeds 
+forward my present arguments. For if such marvels are wrought by 
+unclean devils, how much mightier are the holy angels! and what cannot 
+that God do who made the angels themselves capable of working 
+miracles! 
+
+If, then, very many effects can be contrived by human art, of so 
+surprising a kind that the uninitiated think them divine, as when, e.g., in 
+a certain temple two magnets have been adjusted, one in the roof, 
+another in the floor, so that an iron image is suspended in mid-air 
+between them, one would suppose by the power of the divinity, were he 
+ignorant of the magnets above and beneath; or, as in the case of that 
+lamp of Venus which we already mentioned as being a skilful adaptation 
+of asbestos; if, again, by the help of magicians, whom Scripture calls 
+sorcerers and enchanters, the devils could gain such power that the 
+noble poet Virgil should consider himself justified in describing a very 
+powerful magician in these lines : 
+
+
+“Her charms can cure what souls she please, 
+Rob other hearts of healthful ease, 
+
+
+Turn rivers backward to their source, 
+And make the stars forget their course, 
+And call up ghosts from night: 
+The ground shall bellow ‘neath your feet: 
+The mountain-ash shall quit its seat, 
+And travel down the height;”10 
+
+
+if this be so, how much more able is God to do those things which to 
+sceptics are incredible, but to His power easy, since it is He who has 
+given to stones and all other things their virtue, and to men their skill to 
+use them in wonderful ways; He who has given to the angels a nature 
+more mighty than that of all that lives on earth; He whose power 
+surpasses all marvels, and whose wisdom in working, ordaining, and 
+permitting is no less marvellous in its governance of all things than in its 
+creation of all! 
+
+
+7. That the ultimate reason for believing miracles is the omnipotence of the Creator 
+
+
+Why, then, cannot God effect both that the bodies of the dead shall 
+rise, and that the bodies of the damned shall be tormented in everlasting 
+fire—God, who made the world full of countless miracles in sky, earth, 
+air, and waters, while itself is a miracle unquestionably greater and more 
+admirable than all the marvels it is filled with? But those with whom or 
+against whom we are arguing, who believe both that there is a God who 
+made the world, and that there are gods created by Him who administer 
+the world’s laws as His vicegerents—our adversaries, I say, who, so far 
+from denying emphatically, assert that there are powers in the world 
+which effect marvellous results (whether of their own accord, or because 
+they are invoked by some rite or prayer, or in some magical way), when 
+we lay before them the wonderful properties of other things which are 
+neither rational animals nor rational spirits, but such material objects as 
+those we have just cited, are in the habit of replying, This is their natural 
+property, their nature; these are the powers naturally belonging to them. 
+Thus the whole reason why Agrigentine salt dissolves in fire and crackles 
+in water is that this is its nature. Yet this seems rather contrary to 
+nature, which has given not to fire but to water the power of melting 
+salt, and the power of scorching it not to water but to fire. But this, they 
+
+
+say, is the natural property of this salt, to show effects contrary to these. 
+The same reason, therefore, is assigned to account for that Garamantian 
+fountain, of which one and the same runlet is chill by day and boiling by 
+night, so that in either extreme it cannot be touched. So also of that 
+other fountain which, though it is cold to the touch, and though it, like 
+other fountains, extinguishes a lighted torch, yet, unlike other fountains, 
+and in a surprising manner, kindles an extinguished torch. So of the 
+asbestos stone, which, though it has no heat of its own, yet when kindled 
+by fire applied to it, cannot be extinguished. And so of the rest, which I 
+am weary of reciting, and in which, though there seems to be an 
+extraordinary property contrary to nature, yet no other reason is given 
+for them than this, that this is their nature—a brief reason truly, and, I 
+own, a satisfactory reply. But since God is the author of all natures, how 
+is it that our adversaries, when they refuse to believe what we affirm, on 
+the ground that it is impossible, are unwilling to accept from us a better 
+explanation than their own, viz. that this is the will of Almighty God— 
+for certainly He is called Almighty only because He is mighty to do all 
+He will—He who was able to create so many marvels, not only 
+unknown, but very well ascertained, as I have been showing, and which, 
+were they not under our own observation, or reported by recent and 
+credible witnesses, would certainly be pronounced impossible? For as for 
+those marvels which have no other testimony than the writers in whose 
+books we read them, and who wrote without being divinely instructed, 
+and are therefore liable to human error, we cannot justly blame any one 
+who declines to believe them. 
+
+For my own part, I do not wish all the marvels I have cited to be 
+rashly accepted, for I do not myself believe them implicitly, save those 
+which have either come under my own observation, or which any one 
+can readily verify—such as the lime which is heated by water and cooled 
+by oil; the magnet which by its mysterious and insensible suction 
+attracts the iron, but has no effect on a straw; the peacock’s flesh which 
+triumphs over the corruption from which not the flesh of Plato is 
+exempt; the chaff so chilling that it prevents snow from melting, so 
+heating that it forces apples to ripen; the glowing fire, which, in 
+accordance with its glowing appearance, whitens the stones it bakes, 
+while, contrary to its glowing appearance, it begrimes most things it 
+burns (just as dirty stains are made by oil, however pure it be, and as the 
+
+
+lines drawn by white silver are black); the charcoal, too, which by the 
+action of fire is so completely changed from its original, that a finely 
+marked piece of wood becomes hideous, the tough becomes brittle, the 
+decaying incorruptible. Some of these things I know in common with 
+many other persons, some of them in common with all men; and there 
+are many others which I have not room to insert in this book. But of 
+those which I have cited, though I have not myself seen, but only read 
+about them, I have been unable to find trustworthy witnesses from 
+whom I could ascertain whether they are facts, except in the case of that 
+fountain in which burning torches are extinguished and extinguished 
+torches lit, and of the apples of Sodom, which are ripe to appearance, 
+but are filled with dust. And indeed I have not met with any who said 
+they had seen that fountain in Epirus, but with some who knew there 
+was a similar fountain in Gaul not far from Grenoble. The fruit of the 
+trees of Sodom, however, is not only spoken of in books worthy of 
+credit, but so many persons say that they have seen it that I cannot 
+doubt the fact. But the rest of the prodigies I receive without definitely 
+affirming or denying them; and I have cited them because I read them in 
+the authors of our adversaries, and that I might prove how many things 
+many among themselves believe, because they are written in the works 
+of their own literary men, though no rational explanation of them is 
+given, and yet they scorn to believe us when we assert that Almighty 
+God will do what is beyond their experience and observation; and this 
+they do even though we assign a reason for His work. For what better 
+and stronger reason for such things can be given than to say that the 
+Almighty is able to bring them to pass, and will bring them to pass, 
+having predicted them in those books in which many other marvels 
+which have already come to pass were predicted? Those things which 
+are regarded as impossible will be accomplished according to the word, 
+and by the power of that God who predicted and effected that the 
+incredulous nations should believe incredible wonders. 
+
+
+8. That it is not contrary to nature that, in an object whose nature is known, there should be 
+
+
+discovered an alteration of the properties which have been known as its natural properties 
+
+
+But if they reply that their reason for not believing us when we say 
+that human bodies will always burn and yet never die, is that the nature 
+of human bodies is known to be quite otherwise constituted; if they say 
+
+
+that for this miracle we cannot give the reason which was valid in the 
+case of those natural miracles, viz. that this is the natural property, the 
+nature of the thing—for we know that this is not the nature of human 
+flesh—we find our answer in the sacred writings, that even this human 
+flesh was constituted in one fashion before there was sin—was 
+constituted, in fact, so that it could not die—and in another fashion after 
+sin, being made such as we see it in this miserable state of mortality, 
+unable to retain enduring life. And so in the resurrection of the dead 
+shall it be constituted differently from its present well-known condition. 
+But as they do not believe these writings of ours, in which we read what 
+nature man had in paradise, and how remote he was from the necessity 
+of death—and indeed, if they did believe them, we should of course have 
+little trouble in debating with them the future punishment of the 
+damned—we must produce from the writings of their own most learned 
+authorities some instances to show that it is possible for a thing to 
+become different from what it was formerly known characteristically to 
+be. 
+
+From the book of Marcus Varro, entitled, Of the Race of the Roman 
+People, I cite word for word the following instance: “There occurred a 
+remarkable celestial portent; for Castor records that, in the brilliant star 
+Venus, called Vesperugo by Plautus, and the lovely Hesperus by Homer, 
+there occurred so strange a prodigy, that it changed its colour, size, 
+form, course, which never happened before nor since. Adrastus of 
+Cyzicus, and Dion of Naples, famous mathematicians, said that this 
+occurred in the reign of Ogyges.” So great an author as Varro would 
+certainly not have called this a portent had it not seemed to be contrary 
+to nature. For we say that all portents are contrary to nature; but they 
+are not so. For how is that contrary to nature which happens by the will 
+of God, since the will of so mighty a Creator is certainly the nature of 
+each created thing? A portent, therefore, happens not contrary to nature, 
+but contrary to what we know as nature. But who can number the 
+multitude of portents recorded in profane histories? Let us then at 
+present fix our attention on this one only which concerns the matter in 
+hand. What is there so arranged by the Author of the nature of heaven 
+and earth as the exactly ordered course of the stars? What is there 
+established by laws so sure and inflexible? And yet, when it pleased Him 
+who with sovereignty and supreme power regulates all He has created, a 
+
+
+star conspicuous among the rest by its size and splendour changed its 
+colour, size, form, and, most wonderful of all, the order and law of its 
+course! Certainly that phenomenon disturbed the canons of the 
+astronomers, if there were any then, by which they tabulate, as by 
+unerring computation, the past and future movements of the stars, so as 
+to take upon them to affirm that this which happened to the morning 
+star (Venus) never happened before nor since. But we read in the divine 
+books that even the sun itself stood still when a holy man, Joshua the 
+son of Nun, had begged this from God until victory should finish the 
+battle he had begun; and that it even went back, that the promise of 
+fifteen years added to the life of king Hezekiah might be sealed by this 
+additional prodigy. But these miracles, which were vouchsafed to the 
+merits of holy men, even when our adversaries believe them, they 
+attribute to magical arts; so Virgil, in the lines I quoted above, ascribes 
+to magic the power to 
+
+
+“Turn rivers backward to their source, 
+
+
+And make the stars forget their course.” 
+
+
+For in our sacred books we read that this also happened, that a river 
+“turned backward,” was stayed above while the lower part flowed on, 
+when the people passed over under the above-mentioned leader, Joshua 
+the son of Nun; and also when Elias the prophet crossed; and afterwards, 
+when his disciple Elisha passed through it: and we have just mentioned 
+how, in the case of king Hezekiah, the greatest of the “stars forgot its 
+course.” But what happened to Venus, according to Varro, was not said 
+by him to have happened in answer to any man’s prayer. 
+
+Let not the sceptics then benight themselves in this knowledge of the 
+nature of things, as if divine power cannot bring to pass in an object 
+anything else than what their own experience has shown them to be in 
+its nature. Even the very things which are most commonly known as 
+natural would not be less wonderful nor less effectual to excite surprise 
+in all who beheld them, if men were not accustomed to admire nothing 
+but what is rare. For who that thoughtfully observes the countless 
+multitude of men, and their similarity of nature, can fail to remark with 
+surprise and admiration the individuality of each man’s appearance, 
+suggesting to us, as it does, that unless men were like one another, they 
+
+
+would not be distinguished from the rest of the animals; while unless, on 
+the other hand, they were unlike, they could not be distinguished from 
+one another, so that those whom we declare to be like, we also find to 
+be unlike? And the unlikeness is the more wonderful consideration of the 
+two; for a common nature seems rather to require similarity. And yet, 
+because the very rarity of things is that which makes them wonderful, 
+we are filled with much greater wonder when we are introduced to two 
+men so like, that we either always or frequently mistake in endeavouring 
+to distinguish between them. 
+
+But possibly, though Varro is a heathen historian, and a very learned 
+one, they may disbelieve that what I have cited from him truly occurred; 
+or they may say the example is invalid, because the star did not for any 
+length of time continue to follow its new course, but returned to its 
+ordinary orbit. There is, then, another phenomenon at present open to 
+their observation, and which, in my opinion, ought to be sufficient to 
+convince them that, though they have observed and ascertained some 
+natural law, they ought not on that account to prescribe to God, as if He 
+could not change and turn it into something very different from what 
+they have observed. The land of Sodom was not always as it now is; but 
+once it had the appearance of other lands, and enjoyed equal if not 
+richer fertility; for, in the divine narrative, it was compared to the 
+paradise of God. But after it was touched [by fire] from heaven, as even 
+pagan history testifies, and as is now witnessed by those who visit the 
+spot, it became unnaturally and horribly sooty in appearance; and its 
+apples, under a deceitful appearance of ripeness, contain ashes within. 
+Here is a thing which was of one kind, and is of another. You see how its 
+nature was converted by the wonderful transmutation wrought by the 
+Creator of all natures into so very disgusting a diversity—an alteration 
+which after so long a time took place, and after so long a time still 
+continues. 
+
+As therefore it was not impossible to God to create such natures as He 
+pleased, so it is not impossible to Him to change these natures of His 
+own creation into whatever He pleases, and thus spread abroad a 
+multitude of those marvels which are called monsters, portents, 
+prodigies, phenomena,!! and which if I were minded to cite and record, 
+what end would there be to this work? They say that they are called 
+“monsters,” because they demonstrate or signify something; “portents,” 
+
+
+because they portend something; and so forth.!2 But let their diviners see 
+how they are either deceived, or even when they do predict true things, 
+it is because they are inspired by spirits, who are intent upon entangling 
+the minds of men (worthy, indeed, of such a fate) in the meshes of a 
+hurtful curiosity, or how they light now and then upon some truth, 
+because they make so many predictions. Yet, for our part, these things 
+which happen contrary to nature, and are said to be contrary to nature 
+(as the apostle, speaking after the manner of men, says, that to graff the 
+wild olive into the good olive, and to partake of its fatness, is contrary to 
+nature), and are called monsters, phenomena, portents, prodigies, ought 
+to demonstrate, portend, predict that God will bring to pass what He has 
+foretold regarding the bodies of men, no difficulty preventing Him, no 
+law of nature prescribing to Him His limit. How He has foretold what He 
+is to do, I think I have sufficiently shown in the preceding book, culling 
+from the sacred Scriptures, both of the New and Old Testaments, not, 
+indeed, all the passages that relate to this, but as many as I judged to 
+suffice for this work. 
+
+
+9. Of hell, and the nature of eternal punishments 
+
+
+So then what God by His prophet has said of the everlasting 
+punishment of the damned shall come to pass—shall without fail come 
+to pass—“their worm shall not die, neither shall their fire be 
+quenched.”!3 In order to impress this upon us most forcibly, the Lord 
+Jesus Himself, when ordering us to cut off our members, meaning 
+thereby those persons whom a man loves as the most useful members of 
+his body, says, “It is better for thee to enter into life maimed, than 
+having two hands to go into hell, into the fire that never shall be 
+quenched; where their worm dieth not, and their fire is not quenched.” 
+Similarly of the foot: “It is better for thee to enter halt into life, than 
+having two feet to be cast into hell, into the fire that never shall be 
+quenched; where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched.” So, 
+too, of the eye: “It is better for thee to enter into the kingdom of God 
+with one eye, than having two eyes to be cast into hell fire; where their 
+worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched.”!4 He did not shrink from 
+using the same words three times over in one passage. And who is not 
+terrified by this repetition, and by the threat of that punishment uttered 
+
+
+so vehemently by the lips of the Lord Himself? 
+
+Now they who would refer both the fire and the worm to the spirit, 
+and not to the body, affirm that the wicked, who are separated from the 
+kingdom of God, shall be burned, as it were, by the anguish of a spirit 
+repenting too late and fruitlessly; and they contend that fire is therefore 
+not inappropriately used to express this burning torment, as when the 
+apostle exclaims, “Who is offended, and I burn not?”!5 The worm, too, 
+they think, is to be similarly understood. For it is written, they say, “As 
+the moth consumes the garment, and the worm the wood, so does grief 
+consume the heart of a man.”!6 But they who make no doubt that in that 
+future punishment both body and soul shall suffer, affirm that the body 
+shall be burned with fire, while the soul shall be, as it were, gnawed by 
+a worm of anguish. Though this view is more reasonable—for it is 
+absurd to suppose that either body or soul will escape pain in the future 
+punishment—yet, for my own part, I find it easier to understand both as 
+referring to the body than to suppose that neither does; and I think that 
+Scripture is silent regarding the spiritual pain of the damned, because, 
+though not expressed, it is necessarily understood that in a body thus 
+tormented the soul also is tortured with a fruitless repentance. For we 
+read in the ancient Scriptures, “The vengeance of the flesh of the 
+ungodly is fire and worms.”!7 It might have been more briefly said, “The 
+vengeance of the ungodly.” Why, then, was it said, “The flesh of the 
+ungodly,” unless because both the fire and the worm are to be the 
+punishment of the flesh? Or if the object of the writer in saying, “The 
+vengeance of the flesh,” was to indicate that this shall be the punishment 
+of those who live after the flesh (for this leads to the second death, as 
+the apostle intimated when he said, “For if ye live after the flesh, ye 
+shall die”!8), let each one make his own choice, either assigning the fire 
+to the body and the worm to the soul—the one figuratively, the other 
+really—or assigning both really to the body. For I have already 
+sufficiently made out that animals can live in the fire, in burning 
+without being consumed, in pain without dying, by a miracle of the most 
+omnipotent Creator, to whom no one can deny that this is possible, if he 
+be not ignorant by whom has been made all that is wonderful in all 
+nature. For it is God Himself who has wrought all these miracles, great 
+and small, in this world which I have mentioned, and incomparably 
+more which I have omitted, and who has enclosed these marvels in this 
+
+
+world, itself the greatest miracle of all. Let each man, then, choose 
+which he will, whether he thinks that the worm is real and pertains to 
+the body, or that spiritual things are meant by bodily representations, 
+and that it belongs to the soul. But which of these is true will be more 
+readily discovered by the facts themselves, when there shall be in the 
+saints such knowledge as shall not require that their own experience 
+teach them the nature of these punishments, but as shall, by its own 
+fulness and perfection, suffice to instruct them in this matter. For “now 
+we know in part, until that which is perfect is come;”!9 only, this we 
+believe about those future bodies, that they shall be such as shall 
+certainly be pained by the fire. 
+
+
+10. Whether the fire of hell, if it be material fire, can burn the wicked spirits, that is to say, 
+
+
+devils, who are immaterial 
+
+
+Here arises the question: If the fire is not to be immaterial, analogous 
+to the pain of the soul, but material, burning by contact, so that bodies 
+may be tormented in it, how can evil spirits be punished in it? For it is 
+undoubtedly the same fire which is to serve for the punishment of men 
+and of devils, according to the words of Christ: “Depart from me, ye 
+cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels;”20 
+unless, perhaps, as learned men have thought, the devils have a kind of 
+body made of that dense and humid air which we feel strikes us when 
+the wind is blowing. And if this kind of substance could not be affected 
+by fire, it could not burn when heated in the baths. For in order to burn, 
+it is first burned, and affects other things as itself is affected. But if any 
+one maintains that the devils have no bodies, this is not a matter either 
+to be laboriously investigated, or to be debated with keenness. For why 
+may we not assert that even immaterial spirits may, in some 
+extraordinary way, yet really be pained by the punishment of material 
+fire, if the spirits of men, which also are certainly immaterial, are both 
+now contained in material members of the body, and in the world to 
+come shall be indissolubly united to their own bodies? Therefore, though 
+the devils have no bodies, yet their spirits, that is, the devils themselves, 
+shall be brought into thorough contact with the material fires, to be 
+tormented by them; not that the fires themselves with which they are 
+brought into contact shall be animated by their connection with these 
+
+
+spirits, and become animals composed of body and spirit, but, as I said, 
+this junction will be effected in a wonderful and ineffable way, so that 
+they shall receive pain from the fires, but give no life to them. And, in 
+truth, this other mode of union, by which bodies and spirits are bound 
+together and become animals, is thoroughly marvellous, and beyond the 
+comprehension of man, though this it is which is man. 
+
+I would indeed say that these spirits will burn without any body of 
+their own, as that rich man was burning in hell when he exclaimed, “I 
+am tormented in this flame,”2! were I not aware that it is aptly said in 
+reply, that that flame was of the same nature as the eyes he raised and 
+fixed on Lazarus, as the tongue on which he entreated that a little 
+cooling water might be dropped, or as the finger of Lazarus, with which 
+he asked this this might be done—all of which took place where souls 
+exist without bodies. Thus, therefore, both that flame in which he 
+burned and that drop he begged were immaterial, and resembled the 
+visions of sleepers or persons in an ecstasy, to whom immaterial objects 
+appear in a bodily form. For the man himself who is in such a state, 
+though it be in spirit only, not in body, yet sees himself so like to his 
+own body that he cannot discern any difference whatever. But that hell, 
+which also is called a lake of fire and brimstone,22 will be material fire, 
+and will torment the bodies of the damned, whether men or devils—the 
+solid bodies of the one, aerial bodies of the others; or if only men have 
+bodies as well as souls, yet the evil spirits, though without bodies, shall 
+be so connected with the bodily fires as to receive pain without 
+imparting life. One fire certainly shall be the lot of both, for thus the 
+truth has declared. 
+
+
+11. Whether it is just that the punishments of sins last longer than the sins themselves lasted 
+
+
+Some, however, of those against whom we are defending the city of 
+God, think it unjust that any man be doomed to an eternal punishment 
+for sins which, no matter how great they were, were perpetrated in a 
+brief space of time; as if any law ever regulated the duration of the 
+punishment by the duration of the offence punished! Cicero tells us that 
+the laws recognise eight kinds of penalty—damages, imprisonment, 
+scourging, reparation,23 disgrace, exile, death, slavery. Is there any one 
+of these which may be compressed into a brevity proportioned to the 
+
+
+rapid commission of the offence, so that no longer time may be spent in 
+its punishment than in its perpetration, unless, perhaps, reparation? For 
+this requires that the offender suffer what he did, as that clause of the 
+law says, “Eye for eye, tooth for tooth.”24 For certainly it is possible for 
+an offender to lose his eye by the severity of legal retaliation in as brief a 
+time as he deprived another of his eye by the cruelty of his own 
+lawlessness. But if scourging be a reasonable penalty for kissing another 
+man’s wife, is not the fault of an instant visited with long hours of 
+atonement, and the momentary delight punished with lasting pain? 
+What shall we say of imprisonment? Must the criminal be confined only 
+for so long a time as he spent on the offence for which he is committed? 
+or is not a penalty of many years? confinement imposed on the slave 
+who has provoked his master with a word, or has struck him a blow that 
+is quickly over? And as to damages, disgrace, exile, slavery, which are 
+commonly inflicted so as to admit of no relaxation or pardon, do not 
+these resemble eternal punishments in so far as this short life allows a 
+resemblance? For they are not eternal only because the life in which 
+they are endured is not eternal; and yet the crimes which are punished 
+with these most protracted sufferings are perpetrated in a very brief 
+space of time. Nor is there any one who would suppose that the pains of 
+punishment should occupy as short a time as the offence; or that murder, 
+adultery, sacrilege, or any other crime, should be measured, not by the 
+enormity of the injury or wickedness, but by the length of time spent in 
+its perpetration. Then as to the award of death for any great crime, do 
+the laws reckon the punishment to consist in the brief moment in which 
+death is inflicted, or in this, that the offender is eternally banished from 
+the society of the living? And just as the punishment of the first death 
+cuts men off from this present mortal city, so does the punishment of the 
+second death cut men off from that future immortal city. For as the laws 
+of this present city do not provide for the executed criminal’s return to 
+it, so neither is he who is condemned to the second death recalled again 
+to life everlasting. But if temporal sin is visited with eternal punishment, 
+how, then, they say, is that true which your Christ says, “With the same 
+measure that ye mete withal it shall be measured to you again?”25 and 
+they do not observe that “the same measure” refers, not to an equal 
+space of time, but to the retribution of evil, or, in other words, to the 
+law by which he who has done evil suffers evil. Besides, these words 
+
+
+could be appropriately understood as referring to the matter of which 
+our Lord was speaking when He used them, viz. judgments and 
+condemnation. Thus, if he who unjustly judges and condemns is himself 
+justly judged and condemned, he receives “with the same measure 
+“though not the same thing as he gave. For judgment he gave, and 
+judgment he receives, though the judgment he gave was unjust, the 
+judgment he receives just. 
+
+
+12. Of the greatness of the first transgression, on account of which eternal punishment is due to 
+
+
+all who are not within the pale of the Saviour’s grace 
+
+
+But eternal punishment seems hard and unjust to human perceptions, 
+because in the weakness of our mortal condition there is wanting that 
+highest and purest wisdom by which it can be perceived how great a 
+wickedness was committed in that first transgression. The more 
+enjoyment man found in God, the greater was his wickedness in 
+abandoning Him; and he who destroyed in himself a good which might 
+have been eternal, became worthy of eternal evil. Hence the whole mass 
+of the human race is condemned; for he who at first gave entrance to sin 
+has been punished with all his posterity who were in him as in a root, so 
+that no one is exempt from this just and due punishment, unless 
+delivered by mercy and undeserved grace; and the human race is so 
+apportioned that in some is displayed the efficacy of merciful grace, in 
+the rest the efficacy of just retribution. For both could not be displayed 
+in all; for if all had remained26 under the punishment of just 
+condemnation, there would have been seen in no one the mercy of 
+redeeming grace. And, on the other hand, if all had been transferred 
+from darkness to light, the severity of retribution would have been 
+manifested in none. But many more are left under punishment than are 
+delivered from it, in order that it may thus be shown what was due to 
+all. And had it been inflicted on all, no one could justly have found fault 
+with the justice of Him who taketh vengeance; whereas, in the 
+deliverance of so many from that just award, there is cause to render the 
+most cordial thanks to the gratuitous bounty of Him who delivers. 
+
+
+13. Against the opinion of those who think that the punishments of the wicked after death are 
+
+
+purgatorial 
+
+
+The Platonists, indeed, while they maintain that no sins are 
+unpunished, suppose that all punishment is administered for remedial 
+purposes,2’ be it inflicted by human or divine law, in this life or after 
+death; for a man may be scathless here, or, though punished, may yet 
+not amend. Hence that passage of Virgil, where, when he had said of our 
+earthly bodies and mortal members, that our souls derive— 
+
+
+“Hence wild desires and grovelling fears, 
+And human laughter, human tears; 
+Immured in dungeon-seeming night, 
+
+
+They look abroad, yet see no light,” 
+
+
+goes on to say: 
+
+
+“Nay, when at last the life has fled, 
+And left the body cold and dead, 
+F’en then there passes not away 
+The painful heritage of clay; 
+
+
+Full many a long-contracted stain 
+
+
+Perforce must linger deep in grain. 
+
+So penal sufferings they endure 
+
+For ancient crime, to make them pure; 
+
+Some hang aloft in open view, 
+
+For winds to pierce them through and through, 
+While others purge their guilt deep-dyed 
+
+
+In burning fire or whelming tide.”28 
+
+
+They who are of this opinion would have all punishments after death to 
+be purgatorial; and as the elements of air, fire, and water are superior to 
+earth, one or other of these may be the instrument of expiating and 
+purging away the stain contracted by the contagion of earth. So Virgil 
+hints at the air in the words, “Some hang aloft for winds to pierce;” at 
+the water in “whelming tide;” and at fire in the expression “in burning 
+fire.” For our part, we recognise that even in this life some punishments 
+are purgatorial—not, indeed, to those whose life is none the better, but 
+rather the worse for them, but to those who are constrained by them to 
+
+
+amend their life. All other punishments, whether temporal or eternal, 
+inflicted as they are on every one by divine providence, are sent either 
+on account of past sins, or of sins presently allowed in the life, or to 
+exercise and reveal a man’s graces. They may be inflicted by the 
+instrumentality of bad men and angels as well as of the good. For even if 
+any one suffers some hurt through another’s wickedness or mistake, the 
+man indeed sins whose ignorance or injustice does the harm; but God, 
+why by His just though hidden judgment permits it to be done, sins not. 
+But temporary punishments are suffered by some in this life only, by 
+others after death, by others both now and then; but all of them before 
+that last and strictest judgment. But of those who suffer temporary 
+punishments after death, all are not doomed to those everlasting pains 
+which are to follow that judgment; for to some, as we have already said, 
+what is not remitted in this world is remitted in the next, that is, they 
+are not punished with the eternal punishment of the world to come. 
+
+
+14. Of the temporary punishments of this life to which the human condition is subject 
+
+
+Quite exceptional are those who are not punished in this life, but only 
+afterwards. Yet that there have been some who have reached the 
+decrepitude of age without experiencing even the slightest sickness, and 
+who have had uninterrupted enjoyment of life, I know both from report 
+and from my own observation. However, the very life we mortals lead is 
+itself all punishment, for it is all temptation, as the Scriptures declare, 
+where it is written, “Is not the life of man upon earth a temptation?29 
+For ignorance is itself no slight punishment, or want of culture, which it 
+is with justice thought so necessary to escape, that boys are compelled, 
+under pain of severe punishment, to learn trades or letters; and the 
+learning to which they are driven by punishment is itself so much of a 
+punishment to them, that they sometimes prefer the pain that drives 
+them to the pain to which they are driven by it. And who would not 
+shrink from the alternative, and elect to die, if it were proposed to him 
+either to suffer death or to be again an infant? Our infancy, indeed, 
+introducing us to this life not with laughter but with tears, seems 
+unconsciously to predict the ills we are to encounter.39 Zoroaster alone 
+is said to have laughed when he was born, and that unnatural omen 
+portended no good to him. For he is said to have been the inventor of 
+
+
+magical arts, though indeed they were unable to secure to him even the 
+poor felicity of this present life against the assaults of his enemies. For, 
+himself king of the Bactrians, he was conquered by Ninus king of the 
+Assyrians. In short, the words of Scripture, “An heavy yoke is upon the 
+sons of Adam, from the day that they go out of their mother’s womb till 
+the day that they return to the mother of all things,”3!1—these words so 
+infallibly find fulfilment, that even the little ones, who by the laver of 
+regeneration have been freed from the bond of original sin in which 
+alone they were held, yet suffer many ills, and in some instances are 
+even exposed to the assaults of evil spirits. But let us not for a moment 
+suppose that this suffering is prejudicial to their future happiness, even 
+though it has so increased as to sever soul from body, and to terminate 
+their life in that early age. 
+
+
+15. That everything which the grace of God does in the way of rescuing us from the inveterate evils 
+
+
+in which we are sunk, pertains to the future world, in which all things are made new 
+
+
+Nevertheless, in the “heavy yoke that is laid upon the sons of Adam, 
+from the day that they go out of their mother’s womb to the day that 
+they return to the mother of all things,” there is found an admirable 
+though painful monitor teaching us to be sober-minded, and convincing 
+us that this life has become penal in consequence of that outrageous 
+wickedness which was perpetrated in Paradise, and that all to which the 
+New Testament invites belongs to that future inheritance which awaits 
+us in the world to come, and is offered for our acceptance, as the earnest 
+that we may, in its own due time, obtain that of which it is the pledge. 
+Now, therefore, let us walk in hope, and let us by the spirit mortify the 
+deeds of the flesh, and so make progress from day to day. For “the Lord 
+knoweth them that are His;”32 and “as many as are led by the Spirit of 
+God, they are sons of God,”33 but by grace, not by nature. For there is 
+but one Son of God by nature, who in His compassion became Son of 
+man for our sakes, that we, by nature sons of men, might by grace 
+become through Him sons of God. For he, abiding unchangeable, took 
+upon Him our nature, that thereby He might take us to Himself; and, 
+holding fast His own divinity, He became partaker of our infirmity, that 
+we, being changed into some better thing, might, by participating in His 
+righteousness and immortality, lose our own properties of sin and 
+mortality, and preserve whatever good quality He had implanted in our 
+
+
+nature, perfected now by sharing in the goodness of His nature. For as 
+by the sin of one man we have fallen into a misery so deplorable, so by 
+the righteousness of one Man, who also is God, shall we come to a 
+blessedness inconceivably exalted. Nor ought any one to trust that he 
+has passed from the one man to the other until he shall have reached 
+that place where there is no temptation, and have entered into the peace 
+which he seeks in the many and various conflicts of this war, in which 
+“the flesh lusteth against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh.”34 
+Now, such a war as this would have had no existence, if human nature 
+had, in the exercise of free will, continued stedfast in the uprightness in 
+which it was created. But now in its misery it makes war upon itself, 
+because in its blessedness it would not continue at peace with God; and 
+this, though it be a miserable calamity, is better than the earlier stages of 
+this life, which do not recognise that a war is to be maintained. For 
+better is it to contend with vices than without conflict to be subdued by 
+them. Better, I say, is war with the hope of peace everlasting than 
+captivity without any thought of deliverance. We long, indeed, for the 
+cessation of this war, and, kindled by the flame of divine love, we burn 
+for entrance on that well-ordered peace in which whatever is inferior is 
+for ever subordinated to what is above it. But if (which God forbid) there 
+had been no hope of so blessed a consummation, we should still have 
+preferred to endure the hardness of this conflict, rather than, by our non- 
+resistance, to yield ourselves to the dominion of vice. 
+
+
+16. The laws of grace, which extend to all the epochs of the life of the regenerate 
+
+
+But such is God’s mercy towards the vessels of mercy which He has 
+prepared for glory, that even the first age of man, that is, infancy, which 
+submits without any resistance to the flesh, and the second age, which is 
+called boyhood, and which has not yet understanding enough to 
+undertake this warfare, and therefore yields to almost every vicious 
+pleasure (because though this age has the power of speech,35 and may 
+therefore seem to have passed infancy, the mind is still too weak to 
+comprehend the commandment), yet if either of these ages has received 
+the sacraments of the Mediator, then, although the present life be 
+immediately brought to an end, the child, having been translated from 
+the power of darkness to the kingdom of Christ, shall not only be saved 
+
+
+from eternal punishments, but shall not even suffer purgatorial torments 
+after death. For spiritual regeneration of itself suffices to prevent any 
+evil consequences resulting after death from the connection with death 
+which carnal generation forms.3° But when we reach that age which can 
+now comprehend the commandment, and submit to the dominion of 
+law, we must declare war upon vices, and wage this war keenly, lest we 
+be landed in damnable sins. And if vices have not gathered strength, by 
+habitual victory they are more easily overcome and subdued; but if they 
+have been used to conquer and rule, it is only with difficulty and labour 
+they are mastered. And indeed this victory cannot be sincerely and truly 
+gained but by delighting in true righteousness, and it is faith in Christ 
+that gives this. For if the law be present with its command, and the 
+Spirit be absent with His help, the presence of the prohibition serves 
+only to increase the desire to sin, and adds the guilt of transgression. 
+Sometimes, indeed, patent vices are overcome by other and hidden 
+vices, which are reckoned virtues, though pride and a kind of ruinous 
+self-sufficiency are their informing principles. According vices are then 
+only to be considered overcome when they are conquered by the love of 
+God, which God Himself alone gives, and which He gives only through 
+the Mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, who became 
+a partaker of our mortality that He might make us partakers of His 
+divinity. But few indeed are they who are so happy as to have passed 
+their youth without committing any damnable sins, either by dissolute 
+or violent conduct, or by following some godless and unlawful opinions, 
+but have subdued by their greatness of soul everything in them which 
+could make them the slaves of carnal pleasures. The greater number 
+having first become transgressors of the law that they have received, and 
+having allowed vice to have the ascendency in them, then flee to grace 
+for help, and so, by a penitence more bitter, and a struggle more violent 
+than it would otherwise have been, they subdue the soul to God, and 
+thus give it its lawful authority over the flesh, and become victors. 
+Whoever, therefore, desires to escape eternal punishment, let him not 
+only be baptized, but also justified in Christ, and so let him in truth pass 
+from the devil to Christ. And let him not fancy that there are any 
+purgatorial pains except before that final and dreadful judgment. We 
+must not, however, deny that even the eternal fire will be proportioned 
+to the deserts of the wicked, so that to some it will be more, and to 
+
+
+others less painful, whether this result be accomplished by a variation in 
+the temperature of the fire itself, graduated according to everyone’s 
+merit, or whether it be that the heat remains the same, but that all do 
+not feel it with equal intensity of torment. 
+
+
+17. Of those who fancy that no men shall be punished eternally 
+
+
+I must now, I see, enter the lists of amicable controversy with those 
+tender-hearted Christians who decline to believe that any, or that all of 
+those whom the infallibly just Judge may pronounce worthy of the 
+punishment of hell, shall suffer eternally, and who suppose that they 
+shall be delivered after a fixed term of punishment, longer or shorter 
+according to the amount of each man’s sin. In respect of this matter, 
+Origen was even more indulgent; for he believed that even the devil 
+himself and his angels, after suffering those more severe and prolonged 
+pains which their sins deserved, should be delivered from their torments, 
+and associated with the holy angels. But the Church, not without reason, 
+condemned him for this and other errors, especially for his theory of the 
+ceaseless alternation of happiness and misery, and the interminable 
+transitions from the one state to the other at fixed periods of ages; for in 
+this theory he lost even the credit of being merciful, by allotting to the 
+saints real miseries for the expiation of their sins, and false happiness, 
+which brought them no true and secure joy, that is, no fearless assurance 
+of eternal blessedness. Very different, however, is the error we speak of 
+which is dictated by the tenderness of these Christians who suppose that 
+the sufferings of those who are condemned in the judgment will be 
+temporary, while the blessedness of all who are sooner or later set free 
+will be eternal. Which opinion, if it is good and true because it is 
+merciful, will be so much the better and truer in proportion as it 
+becomes more merciful. Let, then, this fountain of mercy be extended, 
+and flow forth even to the lost angels, and let them also be set free, at 
+least after as many and long ages as seem fit! Why does this stream of 
+mercy flow to all the human race, and dry up as soon as it reaches the 
+angelic? And yet they dare not extend their pity further, and propose the 
+deliverance of the devil himself. Or if any one is bold enough to do so, 
+he does indeed put to shame their charity, but is himself convicted of 
+error that is more unsightly, and a wresting of God’s truth that is more 
+
+
+perverse, in proportion as his clemency of sentiment seems to be 
+greater.37 
+
+
+18. Of those who fancy that, on account of the saints’ intercession, no man shall be damned in 
+
+
+the last judgment 
+
+
+There are others, again, with whose opinions I have become 
+acquainted in conversation, who, though they seem to reverence the 
+holy Scriptures, are yet of reprehensible life, and who accordingly, in 
+their own interest, attribute to God a still greater compassion towards 
+men. For they acknowledge that it is truly predicted in the divine word 
+that the wicked and unbelieving are worthy of punishment, but they 
+assert that, when the judgment comes, mercy will prevail. For, say they, 
+God, having compassion on them, will give them up to the prayers and 
+intercessions of His saints. For if the saints used to pray for them when 
+they suffered from their cruel hatred, how much more will they do so 
+when they see them prostrate and humble suppliants? For we cannot, 
+they say, believe that the saints shall lose their bowels of compassion 
+when they have attained the most perfect and complete holiness; so that 
+they who, when still sinners, prayed for their enemies, should now, 
+when they are freed from sin, withhold from interceding for their 
+suppliants. Or shall God refuse to listen to so many of His beloved 
+children, when their holiness has purged their prayers of all hindrance to 
+His answering them? And the passage of the psalm which is cited by 
+those who admit that wicked men and infidels shall be punished for a 
+long time, though in the end delivered from all sufferings, is claimed 
+also by the persons we are now speaking of as making much more for 
+them. The verse runs: “Shall God forget to be gracious? Shall He in anger 
+shut up His tender mercies?”38 His anger, they say, would condemn all 
+that are unworthy of everlasting happiness to endless punishment. But if 
+He suffer them to be punished for a long time, or even at all, must He 
+not shut up His tender mercies, which the Psalmist implies He will not 
+do? For he does not say, Shall He in anger shut up His tender mercies for 
+a long period? but he implies that He will not shut them up at all. 
+
+And they deny that thus God’s threat of judgment is proved to be false 
+even though He condemn no man, any more than we can say that His 
+threat to overthrow Nineveh was false, though the destruction which 
+
+
+was absolutely predicted was not accomplished. For He did not say, 
+“Nineveh shall be overthrown if they do not repent and amend their 
+ways,” but without any such condition He foretold that the city should 
+be overthrown. And this prediction, they maintain, was true because 
+God predicted the punishment which they deserved, although He was 
+not to inflict it. For though He spared them on their repentance, yet He 
+was certainly aware that they would repent, and, not-withstanding, 
+absolutely and definitely predicted that the city should be overthrown. 
+This was true, they say, in the truth of severity, because they were 
+worthy of it; but in respect of the compassion which checked His anger, 
+so that He spared the suppliants from the punishment with which He 
+had threatened the rebellious, it was not true. If, then, He spared those 
+whom His own holy prophet was provoked at His sparing, how much 
+more shall He spare those more wretched suppliants for whom all His 
+saints shall intercede? And they suppose that this conjecture of theirs is 
+not hinted at in Scripture, for the sake of stimulating many to 
+reformation of life through fear of very protracted or eternal sufferings, 
+and of stimulating others to pray for those who have not reformed. 
+However, they think that the divine oracles are not altogether silent on 
+this point; for they ask to what purpose is it said, “How great is Thy 
+goodness which Thou hast hidden for them that fear Thee,”29 if it be not 
+to teach us that the great and hidden sweetness of God’s mercy is 
+concealed in order that men may fear? To the same purpose they think 
+the apostle said, “For God hath concluded all men in unbelief, that He 
+may have mercy upon all,”4° signifying that no one should be 
+condemned by God. And yet they who hold this opinion do not extend it 
+to the acquittal or liberation of the devil and his angels. Their human 
+tenderness is moved only towards men, and they plead chiefly their own 
+cause, holding out false hopes of impunity to their own depraved lives 
+by means of this quasi compassion of God to the whole race. 
+Consequently they who promise this impunity even to the prince of the 
+devils and his satellites make a still fuller exhibition of the mercy of God. 
+
+
+19. Of those who promise impunity from all sins even to heretics, through virtue of their 
+participation of the body of Christ 
+
+
+So, too, there are others who promise this deliverance from eternal 
+
+
+punishment, not, indeed, to all men, but only to those who have been 
+washed in Christian baptism, and who become partakers of the body of 
+Christ, no matter how they have lived, or what heresy or impiety they 
+have fallen into. They ground this opinion on the saying of Jesus, “This 
+is the bread which cometh down from heaven, that if any man eat 
+thereof, he shall not die. I am the living bread which came down from 
+heaven. If a man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever.”41 Therefore, 
+say they, it follows that these persons must be delivered from death 
+eternal, and at one time or other be introduced to everlasting life. 
+
+
+20. Of those who promise this indulgence not to all, but only to those who have been baptised as 
+
+
+catholics, though afterwards they have broken out into many crimes and heresies 
+
+
+There are others still who make this promise not even to all who have 
+received the sacraments of the baptism of Christ and of His body, but 
+only to the catholics, however badly they have lived. For these have 
+eaten the body of Christ, not only sacramentally but really, being 
+incorporated in His body, as the apostle says, “We, being many, are one 
+bread, one body;”42 so that, though they have afterwards lapsed into 
+some heresy, or even into heathenism and idolatry, yet by virtue of this 
+one thing, that they have received the baptism of Christ, and eaten the 
+body of Christ, in the body of Christ, that is to say, in the catholic 
+Church, they shall not die eternally, but at one time or other obtain 
+eternal life; and all that wickedness of theirs shall not avail to make their 
+punishment eternal, but only proportionately long and severe. 
+
+
+21. Of those who assert that all catholics who continue in the faith, even though by the depravity 
+of their lives they have merited hell fire, shall be saved on account of the “foundation” of their 
+faith 
+
+
+There are some, too, who found upon the expression of Scripture, “He 
+that endureth to the end shall be saved,”43 and who promise salvation 
+only to those who continue in the Church catholic; and though such 
+persons have lived badly, yet, say they, they shall be saved as by fire 
+through virtue of the foundation of which the apostle says, “For other 
+foundation hath no man laid than that which is laid, which is Christ 
+Jesus. Now if any man build upon this foundation gold, silver, precious 
+stones, wood, hay, stubble; every man’s work shall be made manifest: for 
+the day of the Lord, shall declare it, for it shall be revealed by fire; and 
+
+
+each man’s work shall be proved of what sort it is. If any man’s work 
+shall endure which he hath built thereupon, he shall receive a reward. 
+But if any man’s work shall be burned, he shall suffer loss: but he 
+himself shall be saved; yet so as through fire.”44 They say, accordingly, 
+that the catholic Christian, no matter what his life be, has Christ as his 
+foundation, while this foundation is not possessed by any heresy which 
+is separated from the unity of His body. And therefore, through virtue of 
+this foundation, even though the catholic Christian by the inconsistency 
+of his life has been as one building up wood, hay, stubble, upon it, they 
+believe that he shall be saved by fire, in other words, that he shall be 
+delivered after tasting the pain of that fire to which the wicked shall be 
+condemned at the last judgment. 
+
+
+22. Of those who fancy that the sins which are intermingled with alms-deeds shall not be 
+charged at the day of judgment 
+
+
+I have also met with some who are of opinion that such only as 
+neglect to cover their sins with alms-deeds shall be punished in 
+everlasting fire; and they cite the words of the Apostle James, “He shall 
+have judgment without mercy who hath shown no mercy.”45 Therefore, 
+say they, he who has not amended his ways, but yet has intermingled his 
+profligate and wicked actions with works of mercy, shall receive mercy 
+in the judgment, so that he shall either quite escape condemnation, or 
+shall be liberated from his doom after some time shorter or longer. They 
+suppose that this was the reason why the Judge Himself of quick and 
+dead declined to mention anything else than works of mercy done or 
+omitted, when awarding to those on His right hand life eternal, and to 
+those on His left everlasting punishment.4© To the same purpose, they 
+say, is the daily petition we make in the Lord’s prayer, “Forgive us our 
+debts, as we forgive our debtors.”47 For, no doubt, whoever pardons the 
+person who has wronged him does a charitable action. And this has been 
+so highly commended by the Lord Himself, that He says, “For if ye 
+forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you: 
+but if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father 
+forgive your trespasses.”48 And so it is to this kind of almsdeeds that the 
+saying of the Apostle James refers, “He shall have judgment without 
+mercy that hath shown no mercy.” And our Lord, they say, made no 
+
+
+distinction of great and small sins, but “Your Father will forgive your 
+sins, if ye forgive men theirs.” Consequently they conclude that, though 
+a man has led an abandoned life up to the last day of it, yet whatsoever 
+his sins have been, they are all remitted by virtue of this daily prayer, if 
+only he has been mindful to attend to this one thing, that when they 
+who have done him any injury ask his pardon, he forgive them from his 
+heart. 
+
+When, by God’s help, I have replied to all these errors, I shall conclude 
+this (twenty-first) book. 
+
+
+23. Against those who are of opinion that the punishment neither of the devil nor of wicked men 
+
+
+shall be eternal 
+
+
+First of all, it behoves us to inquire and to recognise why the Church 
+has not been able to tolerate the idea that promises cleansing or 
+indulgence to the devil even after the most severe and protracted 
+punishment. For so many holy men, imbued with the spirit of the Old 
+and New Testament, did not grudge to angels of any rank or character 
+that they should enjoy the blessedness of the heavenly kingdom after 
+being cleansed by suffering, but rather they perceived that they could 
+not invalidate nor evacuate the divine sentence which the Lord predicted 
+that He would pronounce in the judgment, saying, “Depart from me, ye 
+cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels.”49 For 
+here it is evident that the devil and his angels shall burn in everlasting 
+fire. And there is also that declaration in the Apocalypse, “The devil 
+their deceiver was cast into the lake of fire and brimstone, where also 
+are the beast and the false prophet. And they shall be tormented day and 
+night for ever.”59 In the former passage “everlasting” is used, in the 
+latter “for ever;” and by these words Scripture is wont to mean nothing 
+else than endless duration. And therefore no other reason, no reason 
+more obvious and just, can be found for holding it as the fixed and 
+immovable belief of the truest piety, that the devil and his angels shall 
+never return to the justice and life of the saints, than that Scripture, 
+which deceives no man, says that God spared them not, and that they 
+were condemned beforehand by Him, and cast into prisons of darkness 
+in hell,5! being reserved to the judgment of the last day, when eternal 
+fire shall receive them, in which they shall be tormented world without 
+
+
+end. And if this be so, how can it be believed that all men, or even some, 
+shall be withdrawn from the endurance of punishment after some time 
+has been spent in it? how can this be believed without enervating our 
+faith in the eternal punishment of the devils? For if all or some of those 
+to whom it shall be said, “Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting 
+fire, prepared for the devil and his angels,”52 are not to be always in that 
+fire, then what reason is there for believing that the devil and his angels 
+shall always be there? Or is perhaps the sentence of God, which is to be 
+pronounced on wicked men and angels alike, to be true in the case of the 
+angels, false in that of men? Plainly it will be so if the conjectures of 
+men are to weigh more than the word of God. But because this is absurd, 
+they who desire to be rid of eternal punishment ought to abstain from 
+arguing against God, and rather, while yet there is opportunity, obey the 
+divine commands. Then what a fond fancy is it to suppose that eternal 
+punishment means long-continued punishment, while eternal life means 
+life without end, since Christ in the very same passage spoke of both in 
+similar terms in one and the same sentence, “These shall go away into 
+eternal punishment, but the righteous into life eternal!”53 If both 
+destinies are “eternal,” then we must either understand both as long- 
+continued but at last terminating, or both as endless. For they are 
+correlative—on the one hand, punishment eternal, on the other hand, 
+life eternal. And to say in one and the same sense, life eternal shall be 
+endless, punishment eternal shall come to an end, is the height of 
+absurdity. Wherefore, as the eternal life of the saints shall be endless, so 
+too the eternal punishment of those who are doomed to it shall have no 
+end. 
+
+
+24. Against those who fancy that in the judgment of God all the accused will be spared in virtue 
+of the prayers of the saints 
+
+
+And this reasoning is equally conclusive against those who, in their 
+own interest, but under the guise of a greater tenderness of spirit, 
+attempt to invalidate the words of God, and who assert that these words 
+are true, not because men shall suffer those things which are threatened 
+by God, but because they deserve to suffer them. For God, they say, will 
+yield them to the prayers of His saints, who will then the more earnestly 
+pray for their enemies, as they shall be more perfect in holiness, and 
+
+
+whose prayers will be the more efficacious and the more worthy of God’s 
+ear, because now purged from all sin whatsoever. Why, then, if in that 
+perfected holiness their prayers be so pure and all-availing will they not 
+use them in behalf of the angels for whom eternal fire is prepared, that 
+God may mitigate His sentence and alter it, and extricate them from that 
+fire? Or will there, perhaps, be come one hardy enough to affirm that 
+even the holy angels will make common cause with holy men (then 
+become the equals of God’s angels), and will intercede for the guilty, 
+both men and angels, that mercy may spare them the punishment which 
+truth has pronounced them to deserve? But this has been asserted by no 
+one sound in the faith, nor will be. Otherwise there is no reason why the 
+Church should not even now pray for the devil and his angels, since God 
+her Master has ordered her to pray for her enemies. The reason, then, 
+which prevents the Church from now praying for the wicked angels, 
+whom she knows to be her enemies, is the identical reason which shall 
+prevent her, however perfected in holiness, from praying at the last 
+judgment for those men who are to be punished in eternal fire. At 
+present she prays for her enemies among men, because they have yet 
+opportunity for fruitful repentance. For what does she especially beg for 
+them but that “God would grant them repentance,” as the apostle says, 
+“that they may return to soberness out of the snare of the devil, by 
+whom they are held captive according to his will?”54 But if the Church 
+were certified who those are, who, though they are still abiding in this 
+life, are yet predestinated to go with the devil into eternal fire, then for 
+them she could no more pray than for him. But since she has this 
+certainty regarding no man, she prays for all her enemies who yet live in 
+this world; and yet she is not heard in behalf of all. But she is heard in 
+the case of those only who, though they oppose the Church, are yet 
+predestinated to become her sons through her intercession. But if any 
+retain an impenitent heart until death, and are not converted from 
+enemies into sons, does the Church continue to pray for them, for the 
+spirits, i.e., of such persons deceased? And why does she cease to pray 
+for them, unless because the man who was not translated into Christ’s 
+kingdom while he was in the body, is now judged to be of Satan’s 
+following? 
+
+It is then, I say, the same reason which prevents the Church at any 
+time from praying for the wicked angels, which prevents her from 
+
+
+praying hereafter for those men who are to be punished in eternal fire; 
+and this also is the reason why, though she prays even for the wicked so 
+long as they live, she yet does not even in this world pray for the 
+unbelieving and godless who are dead. For some of the dead, indeed, the 
+prayer of the Church or of pious individuals is heard; but it is for those 
+who, having been regenerated in Christ, did not spend their life so 
+wickedly that they can be judged unworthy of such compassion, nor so 
+well that they can be considered to have no need of it. As also, after the 
+resurrection, there will be some of the dead to whom, after they have 
+endured the pains proper to the spirits of the dead, mercy shall be 
+accorded, and acquittal from the punishment of eternal fire. For were 
+there not some whose sins, though not remitted in this life, shall be 
+remitted in that which is to come, it could not be truly said, “They shall 
+not be forgiven, neither in this world, neither in that which is to 
+come.”55 But when the Judge of quick and dead has said, “Come, ye 
+blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the 
+foundation of the world,” and to those on the other side, “Depart from 
+me, ye cursed, into the eternal fire, which is prepared for the devil and 
+his angels,” and “These shall go away into eternal punishment, but the 
+righteous into eternal life,”5° it were excessively presumptuous to say 
+that the punishment of any of those who God has said shall go away into 
+eternal punishment shall not be eternal, and so bring either despair or 
+doubt upon the corresponding promise of life eternal. 
+
+Let no man then so understand the words of the Psalmist, “Shall God 
+forget to be gracious? shall He shut up in His anger His tender 
+mercies?”57 as if the sentence of God were true of good men, false of bad 
+men, or true of good men and wicked angels but false of bad men. For 
+the Psalmist’s words refer to the vessels of mercy and the children of the 
+promise, of whom the prophet himself was one; for when he had said, 
+“Shall God forget to be gracious? shall He shut up in His anger His 
+tender mercies?” and then immediately subjoins, “And I said, Now I 
+begin: this is the change wrought by the right hand of the Most High,”58 
+he manifestly explained what he meant by the words, “Shall He shut up 
+in His anger His tender mercies?” For God’s anger is this mortal life, in 
+which man is made like to vanity, and his days pass as a shadow.°5? Yet 
+in this anger God does not forget to be gracious, causing His sun to shine 
+and His rain to descend on the just and the unjust;6° and thus He does 
+
+
+not in His anger cut short His tender mercies, and especially in what the 
+Psalmist speaks of in the words, “Now I begin: this change is from the 
+right hand of the Most High;” for He changes for the better the vessels of 
+mercy, even while they are still in this most wretched life, which is 
+God’s anger, and even while His anger is manifesting itself in this 
+miserable corruption; for “in His anger He does not shut up His tender 
+mercies.” And since the truth of this divine canticle is quite satisfied by 
+this application of it, there is no need to give it a reference to that place 
+in which those who do not belong to the city of God are punished in 
+eternal fire. But if any persist in extending its application to the torments 
+of the wicked, let them at least understand it so that the anger of God, 
+which has threatened the wicked with eternal punishment, shall abide, 
+but shall be mixed with mercy to the extent of alleviating the torments 
+which might justly be inflicted; so that the wicked shall neither wholly 
+escape, nor only for a time endure these threatened pains, but that they 
+shall be less severe and more endurable than they deserve. Thus the 
+anger of God shall continue, and at the same time He will not in this 
+anger shut up His tender mercies. But even this hypothesis I am not to 
+be supposed to affirm because I do not positively oppose it.®! 
+
+As for those who find an empty threat rather than a truth in such 
+passages as these: “Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire;” and 
+“These shall go away into eternal punishment;”62 and “They shall be 
+tormented for ever and ever;”63 and “Their worm shall not die, and their 
+fire shall not be quenched”64—such persons, I say, are most emphatically 
+and abundantly refuted, not by me so much as by the divine Scripture 
+itself. For the men of Nineveh repented in this life, and therefore their 
+repentance was fruitful, inasmuch as they sowed in that field which the 
+Lord meant to be sown in tears that it might afterwards be reaped in joy. 
+And yet who will deny that God’s prediction was fulfilled in their case, if 
+at least he observes that God destroys sinners not only in anger but also 
+in compassion? For sinners are destroyed in two ways—either, like the 
+Sodomites, the men themselves are punished for their sins, or, like the 
+Ninevites, the men’s sins are destroyed by repentance. God’s prediction, 
+therefore, was fulfilled—the wicked Nineveh was overthrown, and a 
+good Nineveh built up. For its walls and houses remained standing; the 
+city was overthrown in its depraved manners. And thus, though the 
+prophet was provoked that the destruction which the inhabitants 
+
+
+dreaded, because of his prediction, did not take place, yet that which 
+God’s foreknowledge had predicted did take place, for He who foretold 
+the destruction knew how it should be fulfilled in a less calamitous 
+sense. 
+
+But that these perversely compassionate persons may see what is the 
+purport of these words, “How great is the abundance of Thy sweetness, 
+Lord, which Thou hast hidden for them that fear Thee,”6> let them read 
+what follows: “And Thou hast perfected it for them that hope in Thee.” 
+For what means, “Thou hast hidden it for them that fear Thee,” “Thou 
+hast perfected it for them that hope in Thee,” unless this, that to those 
+who through fear of punishment seek to establish their own 
+righteousness by the law, the righteousness of God is not sweet, because 
+they are ignorant of it? They have not tasted it. For they hope in 
+themselves, not in Him; and therefore God’s abundant sweetness is 
+hidden from them. They fear God, indeed, but it is with that servile fear 
+“which is not in love; for perfect love casteth out fear.”6° Therefore to 
+them that hope in Him He perfecteth His sweetness, inspiring them with 
+His own love, so that with a holy fear, which love does not cast out, but 
+which endureth for ever, they may, when they glory, glory in the Lord. 
+For the righteousness of God is Christ, “who is of God made unto us,” as 
+the apostle says, “wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and 
+redemption: as it is written, He that glorieth, let him glory in the 
+Lord.”67 This righteousness of God, which is the gift of grace without 
+merits, is not known by those who go about to establish their own 
+righteousness, and are therefore not subject to the righteousness of God, 
+which is Christ.68 But it is in this righteousness that we find the great 
+abundance of God’s sweetness, of which the psalm says, “Taste and see 
+how sweet the Lord is.”69 And this we rather taste than partake of to 
+satiety in this our pilgrimage. We hunger and thirst for it now, that 
+hereafter we may be satisfied with it when we see Him as He is, and that 
+is fulfilled which is written, “I shall be satisfied when Thy glory shall be 
+manifested.”7° It is thus that Christ perfects the great abundance of His 
+sweetness to them that hope in Him. But if God conceals His sweetness 
+from them that fear Him in the sense that these our objectors fancy, so 
+that men’s ignorance of His purpose of mercy towards the wicked may 
+lead them to fear Him and live better, and so that there may be prayer 
+made for those who are not living as they ought, how then does He 
+
+
+perfect His sweetness to them that hope in Him, since, if their dreams be 
+true, it is this very sweetness which will prevent Him from punishing 
+those who do not hope in Him? Let us then seek that sweetness of His, 
+which He perfects to them that hope in Him, not that which He is 
+supposed to perfect to those who despise and blaspheme Him; for in 
+vain, after this life, does a man seek for what he has neglected to provide 
+while in this life. 
+
+Then, as to that saying of the apostle, “For God hath concluded all in 
+unbelief, that He may have mercy upon all,”7! it does not mean that He 
+will condemn no one; but the foregoing context shows what is meant. 
+The apostle composed the epistle for the Gentiles who were already 
+believers; and when he was speaking to them of the Jews who were yet 
+to believe, he says, “For as ye in times past believed not God, yet have 
+now obtained mercy through their unbelief; even so have these also now 
+not believed, that through your mercy they also may obtain mercy.” 
+Then he added the words in question with which these persons beguile 
+themselves: “For God concluded all in unbelief, that He might have 
+mercy upon all.” All whom, if not all those of whom he was speaking, 
+just as if he had said, “Both you and them?” God then concluded all 
+those in unbelief, both Jews and Gentiles, whom He foreknew and 
+predestinated to be conformed to the image of His Son, in order that 
+they might be confounded by the bitterness of unbelief, and might 
+repent and believingly turn to the sweetness of God’s mercy, and might 
+take up that exclamation of the psalm, “How great is the abundance of 
+Thy sweetness, O Lord, which Thou hast hidden for them that fear Thee, 
+but hast perfected to them that hope,” not in themselves, but “in Thee.” 
+He has mercy, then, on all the vessels of mercy. And what means “all?” 
+Both those of the Gentiles and those of the Jews whom He predestinated, 
+called, justified, glorified: none of these will be condemned by Him; but 
+we cannot say none of all men whatever. 
+
+
+25. Whether those who received heretical baptism, and have afterwards fallen away to wickedness 
+of life; or those who have received catholic baptism, but have afterwards passed over to heresy 
+and schism; or those who have remained in the catholic Church in which they were baptized, 
+but have continued to live immorally—may hope through the virtue of the sacraments for the 
+
+
+remission of eternal punishment 
+
+
+But let us now reply to those who promise deliverance from eternal 
+
+
+fire, not to the devil and his angels (as neither do they of whom we have 
+been speaking), nor even to all men whatever, but only to those who 
+have been washed by the baptism of Christ, and have become partakers 
+of His body and blood, no matter how they have lived, no matter what 
+heresy or impiety they have fallen into. But they are contradicted by the 
+apostle, where he says, “Now the works of the flesh are manifest, which 
+are these; fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, witchcraft, 
+hatred, variances, emulations, wrath, strife, heresies, envyings, 
+drunkenness, revellings, and the like: of the which I tell you before, as I 
+have also told you in time past, for they which do such things shall not 
+inherit the kingdom of God.””2 Certainly this sentence of the apostle is 
+false, if such persons shall be delivered after any lapse of time, and shall 
+then inherit the kingdom of God. But as it is not false, they shall 
+certainly never inherit the kingdom of God. And if they shall never enter 
+that kingdom, then they shall always be retained in eternal punishment; 
+for there is no middle place where he may live unpunished who has not 
+been admitted into that kingdom. 
+
+And therefore we may reasonably inquire how we are to understand 
+these words of the Lord Jesus: “This is the bread which cometh down 
+from heaven, that a man may eat thereof, and not die. I am the living 
+bread which came down from heaven. If any man eat of this bread, he 
+shall live for ever.””3 And those, indeed, whom we are now answering, 
+are refuted in their interpretation of this passage by those whom we are 
+shortly to answer, and who do not promise this deliverance to all who 
+have received the sacraments of baptism and the Lord’s body, but only 
+to the catholics, however wickedly they live; for these, say they, have 
+eaten the Lord’s body not only sacramentally, but really, being 
+constituted members of His body, of which the apostle says, “We being 
+many are one bread, one body.””4 He then who is in the unity of Christ’s 
+body (that is to say, in the Christian membership), of which body the 
+faithful have been wont to receive the sacrament at the altar, that man is 
+truly said to eat the body and drink the blood of Christ. And 
+consequently heretics and schismatics being separate from the unity of 
+this body, are able to receive the same sacrament, but with no profit to 
+themselves—nay, rather to their own hurt, so that they are rather more 
+severely judged than liberated after some time. For they are not in that 
+bond of peace which is symbolized by that sacrament. 
+
+
+But again, even those who sufficiently understand that he who is not 
+in the body of Christ cannot be said to eat the body of Christ, are in 
+error when they promise liberation from the fire of eternal punishment 
+to persons who fall away from the unity of that body into heresy, or 
+even into heathenish superstition. For, in the first place, they ought to 
+consider how intolerable it is, and how discordant with sound doctrine, 
+to suppose that many, indeed, or almost all, who have forsaken the 
+Church catholic, and have originated impious heresies and become 
+heresiarchs, should enjoy a destiny superior to those who never were 
+catholics, but have fallen into the snares of these others; that is to say, if 
+the fact of their catholic baptism and original reception of the sacrament 
+of the body of Christ in the true body of Christ is sufficient to deliver 
+these heresiarchs from eternal punishment. For certainly he who deserts 
+the faith, and from a deserter becomes an assailant, is worse than he 
+who has not deserted the faith he never held. And, in the second place, 
+they are contradicted by the apostle, who, after enumerating the works 
+of the flesh, says with reference to heresies, “They who do such things 
+shall not inherit the kingdom of God.” 
+
+And therefore neither ought such persons as lead an abandoned and 
+damnable life to be confident of salvation, though they persevere to the 
+end in the communion of the Church catholic, and comfort themselves 
+with the words, “He that endureth to the end shall be saved.” By the 
+iniquity of their life they abandon that very righteousness of life which 
+Christ is to them, whether it be by fornication, or by perpetrating in 
+their body the other uncleannesses which the apostle would not so much 
+as mention, or by a dissolute luxury, or by doing any one of those things 
+of which he says, “They who do such things shall not inherit the 
+kingdom of God.” Consequently, they who do such things shall not exist 
+anywhere but in eternal punishment, since they cannot be in the 
+kingdom of God. For, while they continue in such things to the very end 
+of life, they cannot be said to abide in Christ to the end; for to abide in 
+Him is to abide in the faith of Christ. And this faith, according to the 
+apostle’s definition of it, “worketh by love.”75 And “love,” as he 
+elsewhere says, “worketh no evil.””© Neither can these persons be said to 
+eat the body of Christ, for they cannot even be reckoned among His 
+members. For, not to mention other reasons, they cannot be at once the 
+members of Christ and the members of a harlot. In fine, He Himself, 
+
+
+when He says, “He that eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood, dwelleth 
+in me, and I in him,”77 shows what it is in reality, and not 
+sacramentally, to eat His body and drink His blood; for this is to dwell in 
+Christ, that He also may dwell in us. So that it is as if He said, He that 
+dwelleth not in me, and in whom I do not dwell, let him not say or think 
+that he eateth my body or drinketh my blood. Accordingly, they who are 
+not Christ’s members do not dwell in Him. And they who make 
+themselves members of a harlot, are not members of Christ unless they 
+have penitently abandoned that evil, and have returned to this good to 
+be reconciled to it. 
+
+
+26. What it is to have Christ for a foundation, and who they are to whom salvation as by fire is 
+
+
+promised 
+
+
+But, say they, the catholic Christians have Christ for a foundation, and 
+they have not fallen away from union with Him, no matter how 
+depraved a life they have built on this foundation, as wood, hay, stubble; 
+and accordingly the well-directed faith by which Christ is their 
+foundation will suffice to deliver them some time from the continuance 
+of that fire, though it be with loss, since those things they have built on 
+it shall be burned. Let the Apostle James summarily reply to them: “If 
+any man say he has faith, and have not works, can faith save him?”78 
+And who then is it, they ask, of whom the Apostle Paul says, “But he 
+himself shall be saved, yet so as by fire?”79 Let us join them in their 
+inquiry; and one thing is very certain, that it is not he of whom James 
+speaks, else we should make the two apostles contradict one another, if 
+the one says, “Though a man’s works be evil, his faith will save him as 
+by fire,” while the other says, “If he have not good works, can his faith 
+save him?” 
+
+We shall then ascertain who it is who can be saved by fire, if we first 
+discover what it is to have Christ for a foundation. And this we may very 
+readily learn from the image itself. In a building the foundation is first. 
+Whoever, then, has Christ in his heart, so that no earthly or temporal 
+things—not even those that are legitimate and allowed—are preferred to 
+Him, has Christ as a foundation. But if these things be preferred, then 
+even though a man seem to have faith in Christ, yet Christ is not the 
+foundation to that man; and much more if he, in contempt of wholesome 
+
+
+precepts, seek forbidden gratifications, is he clearly convicted of putting 
+Christ not first but last, since he has despised Him as his ruler, and has 
+preferred to fulfil his own wicked lusts, in contempt of Christ’s 
+commands and allowances. Accordingly, if any Christian man loves a 
+harlot, and, attaching himself to her, becomes one body, he has not now 
+Christ for a foundation. But if any one loves his own wife, and loves her 
+as Christ would have him love her, who can doubt that he has Christ for 
+a foundation? But if he loves her in the world’s fashion, carnally, as the 
+disease of lust prompts him, and as the Gentiles love who know not God, 
+even this the apostle, or rather Christ by the apostle, allows as a venial 
+fault. And therefore even such a man may have Christ for a foundation. 
+For so long as he does not prefer such an affection or pleasure to Christ, 
+Christ is his foundation, though on it he builds wood, hay, stubble; and 
+therefore he shall be saved as by fire. For the fire of affliction shall burn 
+such luxurious pleasures and earthly loves, though they be not 
+damnable, because enjoyed in lawful wedlock. And of this fire the fuel is 
+bereavement, and all those calamities which consume these joys. 
+Consequently the superstructure will be loss to him who has built it, for 
+he shall not retain it, but shall be agonized by the loss of those things in 
+the enjoyment of which he found pleasure. But by this fire he shall be 
+saved through virtue of the foundation, because even if a persecutor 
+demanded whether he would retain Christ or these things, he would 
+prefer Christ. Would you hear, in the apostle’s own words, who he is 
+who builds on the foundation gold, silver, precious stones? “He that is 
+unmarried,” he says, “careth for the things that belong to the Lord, how 
+he may please the Lord.”89 Would you hear who he is that buildeth 
+wood, hay, stubble? “But he that is married careth for the things that are 
+of the world, how he may please his wife.”8! “Every man’s work shall be 
+made manifest: for the day shall declare it”—the day, no doubt, of 
+tribulation—“because,” says he, “it shall be revealed by fire.”82 He calls 
+tribulation fire, just as it is elsewhere said, “The furnace proves the 
+vessels of the potter, and the trial of affliction righteous men.”83 And 
+“The fire shall try every man’s work of what sort it is. If any man’s work 
+abide “—for a man’s care for the things of the Lord, how he may please 
+the Lord, abides—” which he hath built thereupon, he shall receive a 
+reward “—that is, he shall reap the fruit of his care.” But if any man’s 
+work shall be burned, he shall suffer loss “—for what he loved he shall 
+
+
+not retain:—” but he himself shall be saved “—for no tribulation shall 
+have moved him from that stable foundation—“yet so as by fire;”84 for 
+that which he possessed with the sweetness of love he does not lose 
+without the sharp sting of pain. Here, then, as seems to me, we have a 
+fire which destroys neither, but enriches the one, brings loss to the 
+other, proves both. 
+
+But if this passage [of Corinthians] is to interpret that fire of which the 
+Lord shall say to those on His left hand, “Depart from me, ye cursed, into 
+everlasting fire,”85 so that among these we are to believe there are those 
+who build on the foundation wood, hay, stubble, and that they, through 
+virtue of the good foundation, shall after a time be liberated from the 
+fire that is the award of their evil deserts, what then shall we think of 
+those on the right hand, to whom it shall be said, “Come, ye blessed of 
+my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you,”8© unless that they are 
+those who have built on the foundation gold, silver, precious stones? But 
+if the fire of which our Lord speaks is the same as that of which the 
+apostle says, “Yet so as by fire,” then both—that is to say, both those on 
+the right as well as those on the left—are to be cast into it. For that fire 
+is to try both, since it is said, “For the day of the Lord shall declare it, 
+because it shall be revealed by fire; and the fire shall try every man’s 
+work of what sort it is.”87 If, therefore, the fire shall try both, in order 
+that if any man’s work abide—ze. if the superstructure be not consumed 
+by the fire—he may receive a reward, and that if his work is burned he 
+may suffer loss, certainly that fire is not the eternal fire itself. For into 
+this latter fire only those on the left hand shall be cast, and that with 
+final and everlasting doom; but that former fire proves those on the right 
+hand. But some of them it so proves that it does not burn and consume 
+the structure which is found to have been built by them on Christ as the 
+foundation; while others of them it proves in another fashion, so as to 
+burn what they have built up, and thus cause them to suffer loss, while 
+they themselves are saved because they have retained Christ, who was 
+laid as their sure foundation, and have loved Him above all. But if they 
+are saved, then certainly they shall stand at the right hand, and shall 
+with the rest hear the sentence, “Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit 
+the kingdom prepared for you;” and not at the left hand, where those 
+shall be who shall not be saved, and shall therefore hear the doom, 
+“Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire.” For from that fire no 
+
+
+man shall be saved, because they all shall go away into eternal 
+punishment, where their worms shall not die, nor their fire be quenched, 
+in which they shall be tormented day and night for ever. 
+
+But if it be said that in the interval of time between the death of this 
+body and that last day of judgment and retribution which shall follow 
+the resurrection, the bodies of the dead shall be exposed to a fire of such 
+a nature that it shall not affect those who have not in this life indulged 
+in such pleasures and pursuits as shall be consumed like wood, hay, 
+stubble, but shall affect those others who have carried with them 
+structures of that kind; if it be said that such worldliness, being venial, 
+shall be consumed in the fire of tribulation either here only, or here and 
+hereafter both, or here that it may not be hereafter—this I do not 
+contradict, because possibly it is true. For perhaps even the death of the 
+body is itself a part of this tribulation, for it results from the first 
+transgression, so that the time which follows death takes its colour in 
+each case from the nature of the man’s building. The persecutions, too, 
+which have crowned the martyrs, and which Christians of all kinds 
+suffer, try both buildings like a fire, consuming some, along with the 
+builders themselves, if Christ is not found in them as their foundation, 
+while others they consume without the builders, because Christ is found 
+in them, and they are saved, though with loss; and other buildings still 
+they do not consume, because such materials as abide for ever are found 
+in them. In the end of the world there shall be in the time of Antichrist 
+tribulation such as has never before been. How many edifices there shall 
+then be, of gold or of hay, built on the best foundation, Christ Jesus, 
+which that fire shall prove, bringing joy to some, loss to others, but 
+without destroying either sort, because of this stable foundation! But 
+whosoever prefers, I do not say his wife, with whom he lives for carnal 
+pleasure, but any of those relatives who afford no delight of such a kind, 
+and whom it is right to love—whosoever prefers these to Christ, and 
+loves them after a human and carnal fashion, has not Christ as a 
+foundation, and will therefore not be saved by fire, nor indeed at all; for 
+he shall not possibly dwell with the Saviour, who says very explicitly 
+concerning this very matter, “He that loveth father or mother more than 
+me is not worthy of me; and he that loveth son or daughter more than 
+me is not worthy of me.”88 But he who loves his relations carnally, and 
+yet so that he does not prefer them to Christ, but would rather want 
+
+
+them than Christ if he were put to the proof, shall be saved by fire, 
+because it is necessary that by the loss of these relations he suffer pain in 
+proportion to his love. And he who loves father, mother, sons, daughters, 
+according to Christ, so that he aids them in obtaining His kingdom and 
+cleaving to Him, or loves them because they are members of Christ, God 
+forbid that this love should be consumed as wood, hay, stubble, and not 
+rather be reckoned a structure of gold, silver, precious stones. For how 
+can a man love those more than Christ whom he loves only for Christ’s 
+sake? 
+
+
+27. Against the belief of those who think that the sins which have been accompanied with 
+
+
+almsgiving will do them no harm 
+
+
+It remains to reply to those who maintain that those only shall burn in 
+eternal fire who neglect alms-deeds proportioned to their sins, resting 
+this opinion on the words of the Apostle James, “He shall have judgment 
+without mercy that hath showed no mercy.”89 Therefore, they say, he 
+that hath showed mercy, though he has not reformed his dissolute 
+conduct, but has lived wickedly and iniquitously even while abounding 
+in alms, shall have a merciful judgment, so that he shall either be not 
+condemned at all, or shall be delivered from final judgment after a time. 
+And for the same reason they suppose that Christ will discriminate 
+between those on the right hand and those on the left, and will send the 
+one party into His kingdom, the other into eternal punishment, on the 
+sole ground of their attention to or neglect of works of charity. 
+Moreover, they endeavour to use the prayer which the Lord Himself 
+taught as a proof and bulwark of their opinion, that daily sins which are 
+never abandoned can be expiated through alms-deeds, no matter how 
+offensive or of what sort they be. For, say they, as there is no day on 
+which Christians ought not to use this prayer, so there is no sin of any 
+kind which, though committed every day, is not remitted when we say, 
+“Forgive us our debts,” if we take care to fulfil what follows, “as we 
+forgive our debtors.”9° For, they go on to say, the Lord does not say, “If 
+ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will forgive you 
+your little daily sins,” but “will forgive you your sins.” Therefore, be 
+they of any kind or magnitude whatever, be they perpetrated daily and 
+never abandoned or subdued in this life, they can be pardoned, they 
+
+
+presume, through alms-deeds. 
+
+But they are right to inculcate the giving of alms proportioned to past 
+sins; for if they said that any kind of alms could obtain the divine pardon 
+of great sins committed daily and with habitual enormity, if they said 
+that such sins could thus be daily remitted, they would see that their 
+doctrine was absurd and ridiculous. For they would thus be driven to 
+acknowledge that it were possible for a very wealthy man to buy 
+absolution from murders, adulteries, and all manner of wickedness, by 
+paying a daily alms of ten paltry coins. And if it be most absurd and 
+insane to make such an acknowledgment, and if we still ask what are 
+those fitting alms of which even the forerunner of Christ said, “Bring 
+forth therefore fruits meet for repentance,”9! undoubtedly it will be 
+found that they are not such as are done by men who undermine their 
+life by daily enormities even to the very end. For they suppose that by 
+giving to the poor a small fraction of the wealth they acquire by 
+extortion and spoliation they can propitiate Christ, so that they may with 
+impunity commit the most damnable sins, in the persuasion that they 
+have bought from Him a licence to transgress, or rather do buy a daily 
+indulgence. And if they for one crime have distributed all their goods to 
+Christ’s needy members, that could profit them nothing unless they 
+desisted from all similar actions, and attained charity which worketh no 
+evil. He therefore who does alms-deeds proportioned to his sins must 
+first begin with himself. For it is not reasonable that a man who 
+exercises charity towards his neighbour should not do so towards 
+himself, since he hears the Lord saying, “Thou shalt love thy neighbour 
+as thyself,”92 and again, “Have compassion on thy soul, and please 
+God.”93 He then who has not compassion on his own soul that he may 
+please God, how can he be said to do alms-deeds proportioned to his 
+sins? To the same purpose is that written, “He who is bad to himself, to 
+whom can he be good?” We ought therefore to do alms that we may be 
+heard when we pray that our past sins may be forgiven, not that while 
+we continue in them we may think to provide ourselves with a licence 
+for wickedness by alms-deeds. 
+
+The reason, therefore, of our predicting that He will impute to those 
+on His right hand the alms-deeds they have done, and charge those on 
+His left with omitting the same, is that He may thus show the efficacy of 
+charity for the deletion of past sins, not for impunity in their perpetual 
+
+
+commission. And such persons, indeed, as decline to abandon their evil 
+habits of life for a better course cannot be said to do charitable deeds. 
+For this is the purport of the saying, “Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of 
+the least of these, ye did it not to me.”95 He shows them that they do not 
+perform charitable actions even when they think they are doing so. For 
+if they gave bread to a hungering Christian because he is a Christian, 
+assuredly they would not deny to themselves the bread of righteousness, 
+that is, Christ Himself; for God considers not the person to whom the gift 
+is made, but the spirit in which it is made. He therefore who loves Christ 
+in a Christian extends alms to him in the same spirit in which he draws 
+near to Christ, not in that spirit which would abandon Christ if it could 
+do so with impunity. For in proportion as a man loves what Christ 
+disapproves does he himself abandon Christ. For what does it profit a 
+man that he is baptized, if he is not justified? Did not He who said, 
+“Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he shall not enter into 
+the kingdom of God,”9%6 say also, “Except your righteousness shall exceed 
+the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, ye shall not enter into the 
+kingdom of heaven?”97 Why do many through fear of the first saying run 
+to baptism, while few through fear of the second seek to be justified? As 
+therefore it is not to his brother a man says, “Thou fool,” if when he says 
+it is he is indignant not at the brotherhood, but at the sin of the offender 
+—for otherwise he were guilty of hell fire—so he who extends charity to 
+a Christian does not extend it to a Christian if he does not love Christ in 
+him. Now he does not love Christ who refuses to be justified in Him. Or, 
+again, if a man has been guilty of this sin of calling his brother Fool, 
+unjustly reviling him without any desire to remove his sin, his alms- 
+deeds go a small way towards expiating this fault, unless he adds to this 
+the remedy of reconciliation which the same passage enjoins. For it is 
+there said, “Therefore, if thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there 
+rememberest that thy brother hath aught against thee; leave there thy 
+gift before the altar, and go thy way; first be reconciled to thy brother, 
+and then come and offer thy gift.”98 Just so it is a small matter to do 
+alms-deeds, no matter how great they be, for any sin, so long as the 
+offender continues in the practice of sin. 
+
+Then as to the daily prayer which the Lord Himself taught, and which 
+is therefore called the Lord’s prayer, it obliterates indeed the sins of the 
+day, when day by day we say, “Forgive us our debts,” and when we not 
+
+
+only say but act out that which follows, “as we forgive our debtors;”99 
+but we utter this petition because sins have been committed, and not 
+that they may be. For by it our Saviour designed to teach us that, 
+however righteously we live in this life of infirmity and darkness, we 
+still commit sins for the remission of which we ought to pray, while we 
+must pardon those who sin against us that we ourselves also may be 
+pardoned. The Lord then did not utter the words, “If ye forgive men 
+their trespasses, your Father will also forgive you your trespasses,”1!09 in 
+order that we might contract from this petition such confidence as 
+should enable us to sin securely from day to day, either putting ourselves 
+above the fear of human laws, or craftily deceiving men concerning our 
+conduct, but in order that we might thus learn not to suppose that we 
+are without sins, even though we should be free from crimes; as also God 
+admonished the priests of the old law to this same effect regarding their 
+sacrifices, which He commanded them to offer first for their own sins, 
+and then for the sins of the people. For even the very words of so great a 
+Master and Lord are to be intently considered. For He does not say, If ye 
+forgive men their sins, your Father will also forgive you your sins, no 
+matter of what sort they be, but He says, your sins; for it was a daily 
+prayer He was teaching, and it was certainly to disciples already justified 
+He was speaking. What, then, does He mean by “your sins,” but those 
+sins from which not even you who are justified and sanctified can be 
+free? While, then, those who seek occasion from this petition to indulge 
+in habitual sin maintain that the Lord meant to include great sins, 
+because He did not say, He will forgive you your small sins, but “your 
+sins,” we, on the other hand, taking into account the character of the 
+persons He was addressing, cannot see our way to interpret the 
+expression “your sins” of anything but small sins, because such persons 
+are no longer guilty of great sins. Nevertheless not even great sins 
+themselves—sins from which we must flee with a total reformation of 
+life—are forgiven to those who pray, unless they observe the appended 
+precept, “as ye also forgive your debtors.” For if the very small sins 
+which attach even to the life of the righteous be not remitted without 
+that condition, how much further from obtaining indulgence shall those 
+be who are involved in many great crimes, if, while they cease from 
+perpetrating such enormities, they still inexorably refuse to remit any 
+debt incurred to themselves, since the Lord says, “But if ye forgive not 
+
+
+men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your 
+trespasses?”101 For this is the purport of the saying of the Apostle James 
+also, “He shall have judgment without mercy that hath showed no 
+mercy.”!02 For we should remember that servant whose debt of ten 
+thousand talents his lord cancelled, but afterwards ordered him to pay 
+up, because the servant himself had no pity for his fellow-servant who 
+owed him an hundred pence.!93 The words which the Apostle James 
+subjoins, “And mercy rejoiceth against judgment,”194 find their 
+application among those who are the children of the promise and vessels 
+of mercy. For even those righteous men, who have lived with such 
+holiness that they receive into the eternal habitations others also who 
+have won their friendship with the mammon of unrighteousness, 1!05 
+became such only through the merciful deliverance of Him who justifies 
+the ungodly, imputing to him a reward according to grace, not according 
+to debt. For among this number is the apostle, who says, “I obtained 
+mercy to be faithful.”19 
+
+But it must be admitted, that those who are thus received into the 
+eternal habitations are not of such a character that their own life would 
+suffice to rescue them without the aid of the saints, and consequently in 
+their case especially does mercy rejoice against judgment. And yet we 
+are not on this account to suppose that every abandoned profligate, who 
+has made no amendment of his life, is to be received into the eternal 
+habitations if only he has assisted the saints with the mammon of 
+unrighteousness—that is to say, with money or wealth which has been 
+unjustly acquired, or, if rightfully acquired, is yet not the true riches, but 
+only what iniquity counts riches, because it knows not the true riches in 
+which those persons abound, who even receive others also into eternal 
+habitations. There is then a certain kind of life, which is neither, on the 
+one hand, so bad that those who adopt it are not helped towards the 
+kingdom of heaven by any bountiful almsgiving by which they may 
+relieve the wants of the saints, and make friends who could receive them 
+into eternal habitations, nor, on the other hand, so good that it of itself 
+suffices to win for them that great blessedness, if they do not obtain 
+mercy through the merits of those whom they have made their friends. 
+And I frequently wonder that even Virgil should give expression to this 
+sentence of the Lord, in which He says, “Make to yourselves friends of 
+the mammon of unrighteousness, that they may receive you into 
+
+
+everlasting habitations;”!°7 and this very similar saying, “He that 
+receiveth a prophet, in the name of a prophet, shall receive a prophet’s 
+reward; and he that receiveth a righteous man, in the name of a 
+righteous man, shall receive a righteous man’s reward.”!08 For when that 
+poet described the Elysian fields, in which they suppose that the souls of 
+the blessed dwell, he placed there not only those who had been able by 
+their own merit to reach that abode, but added— 
+
+
+“And they who grateful memory won 
+
+
+By services to others done”;109 
+
+
+that is, they who had served others, and thereby merited to be 
+remembered by them. Just as if they used the expression so common in 
+Christian lips, where some humble person commends himself to one of 
+the saints, and says, Remember me, and secures that he do so by 
+deserving well at his hand. But what that kind of life we have been 
+speaking of is, and what those sins are which prevent a man from 
+winning the kingdom of God by himself, but yet permit him to avail 
+himself of the merits of the saints, it is very difficult to ascertain, very 
+perilous to define. For my own part, in spite of all investigation, I have 
+been up to the present hour unable to discover this. And possibly it is 
+hidden from us, lest we should become careless in avoiding such sins, 
+and so cease to make progress. For if it were known what these sins are, 
+which, though they continue, and be not abandoned for a higher life, do 
+yet not prevent us from seeking and hoping for the intercession of the 
+saints, human sloth would presumptuously wrap itself in these sins, and 
+would take no steps to be disentangled from such wrappings by the deft 
+energy of any virtue, but would only desire to be rescued by the merits 
+of other people, whose friendship had been won by a bountiful use of 
+the mammon of unrighteousness. But now that we are left in ignorance 
+of the precise nature of that iniquity which is venial, even though it be 
+persevered in, certainly we are both more vigilant in our prayers and 
+efforts for progress, and more careful to secure with the mammon of 
+unrighteousness friends for ourselves among the saints. 
+
+But this deliverance, which is effected by one’s own prayers, or the 
+intercession of holy men, secures that a man be not cast into eternal fire, 
+but not that, when once he has been cast into it, he should after a time 
+
+
+be rescued from it. For even those who fancy that what is said of the 
+good ground bringing forth abundant fruit, some thirty, some sixty, 
+some an hundred fold, is to be referred to the saints, so that in 
+proportion to their merits some of them shall deliver thirty men, some 
+sixty, some an hundred—even those who maintain this are yet 
+commonly inclined to suppose that this deliverance will take place at, 
+and not after the day of judgment. Under this impression, some one who 
+observed the unseemly folly with which men promise themselves 
+impunity on the ground that all will be included in this method of 
+deliverance, is reported to have very happily remarked, that we should 
+rather endeavour to live so well that we shall be all found among the 
+number of those who are to intercede for the liberation of others, lest 
+these should be so few in number, that, after they have delivered, one 
+thirty, another sixty, another a hundred, there should still remain many 
+who could not be delivered from punishment by their intercessions, and 
+among them every one who has vainly and rashly promised himself the 
+fruit of another’s labour. But enough has been said in reply to those who 
+acknowledge the authority of the same sacred Scriptures as ourselves, 
+but who, by a mistaken interpretation of them, conceive of the future 
+rather as they themselves wish, than as the Scriptures teach. And having 
+given this reply, I now, according to promise, close this book. 
+
+
+1 John v. 29. 
+
+2 Matt. xiii. 41-43. 
+3 Matt. xxv. 46. 
+
+4 Luke xvi. 24. 
+
+5 Aincid, vi. 733. 
+
+6 Ch. 3, 5. 6. 
+
+
+7 Aristotle does not affirm it as a fact observed by himself, but as a popular tradition (Hist. anim. 
+v. 19). Pliny is equally cautious (Hist. nat. xxix. 23). Dioscorides declared the thing impossible (ii. 
+68).—SAISSET. 
+
+
+8 So Lucretius, ii. 1025: 
+
+
+“Sed neque tam facilis res ulla ’st, quin ea primum 
+Difficilis magis ad credendum constet: itemque 
+Nil adeo magnum, nec tam mirabile quicquam 
+
+
+Principis, quod non minuant mirarier omnes 
+
+
+Paulatim.” 
+9 Alluded to by Moore in his Melodies: 
+
+
+“The fount that played 
+In times of old through Ammon’s shade, 
+Though ice cold by day it ran, 
+Yet still, like souls of mirth, began 
+
+
+To burn when night was near.” 
+
+
+10 Aineid, iv. 487-491. 
+11 See the same collocation of words in Cic. Nat. deor. ii. 3. 
+
+
+12 The etymologies given here by Augustine are, “monstra,” a monstrando; “ostenta,” ab 
+ostendendo; “portenta,” a portendendo, i.e. præostendendo; “prodigia,” quod porro dicant, ie. 
+
+
+futura prædicant. 
+13 Isa. lxvi. 24. 
+
+14 Mark ix. 43-48. 
+15 2 Cor. xi. 29. 
+
+16 Tsa. li. 8. 
+
+17 Ecclus. vii. 17. 
+18 Rom. viii. 13. 
+19 1 Cor. xiii. 9, 10. 
+20 Matt. xxv. 41. 
+21 Luke xvi. 24. 
+
+22 Rev. xx. 10. 
+
+
+23 “Talio,” ie. the rendering of like for like the punishment being exactly similar to the injury 
+sustained. 
+
+24 Fx. xxi. 24. 
+
+25 Luke vi. 38. 
+
+26 Remanerent. But Augustine constantly uses the imp. for the plup. subjunctive. 
+
+27 Plato’s own theory was that punishment had a twofold purpose, to reform and to deter. No 
+one punishes an offender on account of the past offence, and simply because he has done wrong, 
+but for the sake of the future, that the offence may not be again committed, either by the same 
+
+
+person or by any one who has seen him punished.”—See the Protagoras, 324, b, and Grote’s 
+Plato, ii. 41. 
+
+
+28 Æneid, vi. 733. 
+
+29 Job. vii. 1. 
+
+30 Compare Goldsmith’s saying, “We begin life in tears, and every day tells us why.” 
+31 Ecclus. xl. 1. 
+
+32 Tim. ii. 19. 
+
+33 Rom. viii. 14. 
+
+34 Gal. v. 17. 
+
+35 “Fari.” 
+
+36 See Aug. Ep. 98, ad Bonifacium. 
+
+
+37 On the heresy of Origen, see Epiphanius (Epistola ad Joannem Hierosol.); Jerome (Epistola 61, 
+ad Pammachium); and Augustine (De Heres. 43). Origen’s opinion was condemned by Anastasius 
+(Jerome, Apologia adv. Ruffinum, and Epistola 78, ad Pammachium), and after Augustine’s death 
+by Vigilius and the Emperor Justinian, in the Fifth Œcumenical Council (Nicephorus Callistus, 
+xvii. 27, and the Acts of the Council, iv. 11).—COQUÆUS. 
+
+
+38 Ps, Ixxvii. 9. 
+
+39 Ps, xxxi. 19. 
+
+40 Rom. xi. 32. 
+
+41 John vi. 50, 51. 
+42 Cor. x. 17. 
+
+43 Matt. xxiv. 13. 
+44 1 Cor. ill. 11-15. 
+45 Jas. ii. 13. 
+
+46 Matt. xxv. 33. 
+
+47 Matt. vi. 12. 
+
+48 Matt. vi. 14, 15. 
+49 Matt. xxv. 41. 
+
+50 Rev. xx. 10. 
+
+51 2 Pet. ii. 4. 
+
+52 Matt. xxv. 41. 
+
+53 Matt. xxv. 46. 
+
+54 2 Tim. ii. 25, 26. 
+
+
+55 Matt. xii. 32. 
+
+
+56 Matt. xxv. 34, 41, 46. 
+97 Ps, Ixxvii. 9. 
+
+58 Ps, Ixxvii. 10. 
+
+59 Ps, exliv. 4. 
+
+60 Matt. v. 45. 
+
+61 It is the theory which Chrysostom adopts. 
+62 Matt. xxv. 41, 46. 
+63 Rev. xx. 10. 
+
+64 Isa. lxvi. 24. 
+
+65 Ps. xxxi. 19. 
+
+66 1 John iv. 18. 
+
+67 1 Cor. i. 30, 31. 
+68 Rom. x. 3. 
+
+69 Ps. xxxiv. 8. 
+
+70 Ps. xvii. 15. 
+
+71 Rom. xi. 32. 
+
+72 Gal. v. 19-21. 
+
+73 John vi. 50, 51. 
+74 1 Cor. x. 17. 
+75Gal. v, 6. 
+
+76Rom. xiii. 10. 
+77John vi. 56. 
+
+78 Jas. ii. 14. 
+
+79 1 Cor. iii. 15. 
+
+80 1 Cor. vii. 32. 
+
+81 1 Cor. vii. 33. 
+
+82 1 Cor. iii. 13. 
+
+83 Ecclus. xxvii. 5. 
+84 1 Cor. iii. 14, 15. 
+85 Matt. xxv. 41. 
+
+
+86 Matt. xxv. 34. 
+
+
+87 1 Cor. iii. 13. 
+88 Matt. x. 37. 
+
+89 Jas. ii. 13. 
+
+90 Matt. vi. 12. 
+
+91 Matt. iii. 8. 
+
+92 Matt. xxii. 39. 
+93 Ecclus. xxx. 24. 
+94 Ecclus. xxi. 1. 
+95 Matt. xxv. 45. 
+96 John iii. 5. 
+
+97 Matt. v. 20. 
+
+98 Matt. v. 23, 24. 
+99 Matt. vi. 12. 
+100 Matt. vi. 14. 
+101 Matt. vi. 15. 
+102 Jas. ii. 13. 
+
+103 Matt. xviii. 23. 
+104 Jas, ii. 13. 
+
+105 Luke xvi. 9. 
+106 ] Cor. vii. 25. 
+107 Luke xvi. 9. 
+108 Matt. x. 41. 
+109 En. vi. 664. 
+
+
+BOOK TWENTY-SECOND 
+
+
+ARGUMENT 
+
+
+THIS BOOK TREATS OF THE END OF THE CITY OF GOD, THAT IS TO SAY, OF THE ETERNAL HAPPINESS OF 
+THE SAINTS; THE FAITH OF THE RESURRECTION OF THE BODY IS ESTABLISHED AND EXPLAINED; AND THE 
+WORK CONCLUDES BY SHOWING HOW THE SAINTS, CLOTHED IN IMMORTAL AND SPIRITUAL BODIES, 
+
+
+SHALL BE EMPLOYED. 
+
+
+1. Of the creation of angels and men 
+
+
+A: we promised in the immediately preceding book, this, the last of 
+the whole work, shall contain a discussion of the eternal blessedness 
+of the city of God. This blessedness is named eternal, not because it shall 
+endure for many ages, though at last it shall come to an end, but 
+because, according to the words of the gospel, “of His kingdom there 
+shall be no end.”! Neither shall it enjoy the mere appearance of 
+perpetuity which is maintained by the rise of fresh generations to occupy 
+the place of those that have died out, as in an evergreen the same 
+freshness seems to continue permanently, and the same appearance of 
+dense foliage is preserved by the growth of fresh leaves in the room of 
+those that have withered and fallen; but in that city all the citizens shall 
+be immortal, men now for the first time enjoying what the holy angels 
+have never lost. And this shall be accomplished by God, the most 
+almighty Founder of the city. For He has promised it, and cannot lie, and 
+has already performed many of His promises, and has done many 
+unpromised kindnesses to those whom He now asks to believe that He 
+will do this also. 
+
+For it is He who in the beginning created the world full of all visible 
+and intelligible beings, among which He created nothing better than 
+those spirits whom He endowed with intelligence, and made capable of 
+contemplating and enjoying Him, and united in our society, which we 
+call the holy and heavenly city, and in which the material of their 
+sustenance and blessedness is God Himself, as it were their common food 
+
+
+and nourishment. It is He who gave to this intellectual nature free-will of 
+such a kind, that if he wished to forsake God his blessedness, misery 
+should forthwith result. It is He who, when He foreknew that certain 
+angels would in their pride desire to suffice for their own blessedness, 
+and would forsake their great good, did not deprive them of this power, 
+deeming it to be more befitting His power and goodness to bring good 
+out of evil than to prevent the evil from coming into existence. And 
+indeed evil had never been, had not the mutable nature—mutable, 
+though good, and created by the most high God and immutable Good, 
+who created all things good—brought evil upon itself by sin. And this its 
+sin is itself proof that its nature was originally good. For had it not been 
+very good, though not equal to its Creator, the desertion of God as its 
+light could not have been an evil to it. For as blindness is a vice of the 
+eye, and this very fact indicates that the eye was created to see the light, 
+and as, consequently, vice itself proves that the eye is more excellent 
+than the other members, because it is capable of light (for on no other 
+supposition would it be a vice of the eye to want light), so the nature 
+which once enjoyed God teaches, even by its very vice, that it was 
+created the best of all, since it is now miserable because it does not 
+enjoy God. It is He who with very just punishment doomed the angels 
+who voluntarily fell to everlasting misery, and rewarded those who 
+continued in their attachment to the supreme good with the assurance of 
+endless stability as the meed of their fidelity. It is He who made also 
+man himself upright, with the same freedom of will—an earthly animal, 
+indeed, but fit for heaven if he remained faithful to his Creator, but 
+destined to the misery appropriate to such a nature if he forsook Him. It 
+is He who, when He foreknew that man would in his turn sin by 
+abandoning God and breaking His law, did not deprive him of the power 
+of free-will, because He at the same time foresaw what good He Himself 
+would bring out of the evil, and how from this mortal race, deservedly 
+and justly condemned, He would by His grace collect, as now He does, a 
+people so numerous, that He thus fills up and repairs the blank made by 
+the fallen angels, and that thus that beloved and heavenly city is not 
+defrauded of the full number of its citizens, but perhaps may even 
+rejoice in a still more overflowing population. 
+
+
+2. Of the eternal and unchangeable will of God 
+
+
+It is true that wicked men do many things contrary to God’s will; but 
+so great is His wisdom and power, that all things which seem adverse to 
+His purpose do still tend towards those just and good ends and issues 
+which He Himself has foreknown. And consequently, when God is said 
+to change His will, as when, e.g., He becomes angry with those to whom 
+He was gentle, it is rather they than He who are changed, and they find 
+Him changed in so far as their experience of suffering at His hand is 
+new, as the sun is changed to injured eyes, and becomes as it were fierce 
+from being mild, and hurtful from being delightful, though in itself it 
+remains the same as it was. That also is called the will of God which He 
+does in the hearts of those who obey His commandments; and of this the 
+apostle says, “For it is God that worketh in you both to will.”2 As God’s 
+“righteousness” is used not only of the righteousness wherewith He 
+Himself is righteous, but also of that which He produces in the man 
+whom He justifies, so also that is called His law, which, though given by 
+God, is rather the law of men. For certainly they were men to whom 
+Jesus said, “It is written in your law,”’ though in another place we read, 
+“The law of his God is in his heart.”4 According to this will which God 
+works in men, He is said also to will what He Himself does not will, but 
+causes His people to will; as He is said to know what He has caused 
+those to know who were ignorant of it. For when the apostle says, “But 
+now, after that ye have known God, or rather are known of God,”5 we 
+cannot suppose that God there for the first time knew those who were 
+foreknown by Him before the foundation of the world; but He is said to 
+have known them then, because then He caused them to know. But I 
+remember that I discussed these modes of expression in the preceding 
+books. According to this will, then, by which we say that God wills what 
+He causes to be willed by others, from whom the future is hidden, He 
+wills many things which He does not perform. 
+
+Thus His saints, inspired by His holy will, desire many things which 
+never happen. They pray, e.g., for certain individuals—they pray in a 
+pious and holy manner—but what they request He does not perform, 
+though He Himself by His own Holy Spirit has wrought in them this will 
+to pray. And consequently, when the saints, in conformity with God’s 
+mind, will and pray that all men be saved, we can use this mode of 
+expression: God wills and does not perform—meaning that He who 
+causes them to will these things Himself wills them. But if we speak of 
+
+
+that will of His which is eternal as His foreknowledge, certainly He has 
+already done all things in heaven and on earth that He has willed—not 
+only past and present things, but even things still future. But before the 
+arrival of that time in which He has willed the occurrence of what He 
+foreknew and arranged before all time, we say, It will happen when God 
+wills. But if we are ignorant not only of the time in which it is to be, but 
+even whether it shall be at all, we say, It will happen if God wills—not 
+because God will then have a new will which He had not before, but 
+because that event, which from eternity has been prepared in His 
+unchangeable will, shall then come to pass. 
+
+
+3. Of the promise of eternal blessedness to the saints, and everlasting punishment to the wicked 
+
+
+Wherefore, not to mention many other instances besides, as we now 
+see in Christ the fulfilment of that which God promised to Abraham 
+when He said, “In thy seed shall all nations be blessed,”® so this also 
+shall be fulfilled which He promised to the same race, when He said by 
+the prophet, “They that are in their sepulchres shall rise again;””7 and 
+also, “There shall be a new heaven and a new earth: and the former shall 
+not be mentioned, nor come into mind; but they shall find joy and 
+rejoicing in it: for I will make Jerusalem a rejoicing, and my people a 
+joy. And I will rejoice in Jerusalem, and joy in my people, and the voice 
+of weeping shall be no more heard in her.”8 And by another prophet He 
+uttered the same prediction: “At that time thy people shall be delivered, 
+every one that shall be found written in the book. And many of them 
+that sleep in the dust” (or, as some interpret it, “in the mound”) “of the 
+earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and 
+everlasting contempt.” And in another place by the same prophet: “The 
+saints of the Most High shall take the kingdom, and shall possess the 
+kingdom for ever, even for ever and ever.”!° And a little after he says, 
+“His kingdom is an everlasting kingdom.”!! Other prophecies referring 
+to the same subject I have advanced in the twentieth book, and others 
+still which I have not advanced are found written in the same Scriptures; 
+and these predictions shall be fulfilled, as those also have been which 
+unbelieving men supposed would be frustrate. For it is the same God 
+who promised both, and predicted that both would come to pass—the 
+God whom the pagan deities tremble before, as even Porphyry, the 
+noblest of pagan philosophers, testifies. 
+
+
+4. Against the wise men of the world, who fancy that the earthly bodies of men cannot be 
+
+
+transferred to a heavenly habitation 
+
+
+But men who use their learning and intellectual ability to resist the 
+force of that great authority which, in fulfilment of what was so long 
+before predicted, has converted all races of men to faith and hope in its 
+promises, seem to themselves to argue acutely against the resurrection of 
+the body while they cite what Cicero mentions in the third book De 
+Republica. For when he was asserting the apotheosis of Hercules and 
+Romulus, he says: “Whose bodies were not taken up into heaven; for 
+nature would not permit a body of earth to exist anywhere except upon 
+earth.” This, forsooth, is the profound reasoning of the wise men, whose 
+thoughts God knows that they are vain. For if we were only souls, that 
+is, spirits without any body, and if we dwelt in heaven and had no 
+knowledge of earthly animals, and were told that we should be bound to 
+earthly bodies by some wonderful bond of union, and should animate 
+them, should we not much more vigorously refuse to believe this, and 
+maintain that nature would not permit an incorporeal substance to be 
+held by a corporeal bond? And yet the earth is full of living spirits, to 
+which terrestrial bodies are bound, and with which they are in a 
+wonderful way implicated. If, then, the same God who has created such 
+beings wills this also, what is to hinder the earthly body from being 
+raised to a heavenly body, since a spirit, which is more excellent than all 
+bodies, and consequently than even a heavenly body, has been tied to an 
+earthly body? If so small an earthly particle has been able to hold in 
+union with itself something better than a heavenly body, so as to receive 
+sensation and life, will heaven disdain to receive, or at least to retain, 
+this sentient and living particle, which derives its life and sensation from 
+a substance more excellent than any heavenly body? If this does not 
+happen now, it is because the time is not yet come which has been 
+determined by Him who has already done a much more marvellous 
+thing than that which these men refuse to believe. For why do we not 
+more intensely wonder that incorporeal souls, which are of higher rank 
+than heavenly bodies, are bound to earthly bodies, rather than that 
+bodies, although earthly, are exalted to an abode which, though 
+heavenly, is yet corporeal, except because we have been accustomed to 
+see this, and indeed are this, while we are not as yet that other marvel, 
+
+
+nor have as yet ever seen it? Certainly, if we consult sober reason, the 
+more wonderful of the two divine works is found to be to attach 
+somehow corporeal things to incorporeal, and not to connect earthly 
+things with heavenly, which, though diverse, are yet both of them 
+corporeal. 
+
+
+5. Of the resurrection of the flesh, which some refuse to believe, though the world at large 
+
+
+believes it 
+
+
+But granting that this was once incredible, behold, now, the world has 
+come to the belief that the earthly body of Christ was received up into 
+heaven. Already both the learned and unlearned have believed in the 
+resurrection of the flesh and its ascension to the heavenly places, while 
+only a very few either of the educated or uneducated are still staggered 
+by it. If this is a credible thing which is believed, then let those who do 
+not believe see how stolid they are; and if it is incredible, then this also 
+is an incredible thing, that what is incredible should have received such 
+credit. Here then we have two incredibles—to wit, the resurrection of 
+our body to eternity, and that the world should believe so incredible a 
+thing; and both these incredibles the same God predicted should come to 
+pass before either had as yet occurred. We see that already one of the 
+two has come to pass, for the world has believed what was incredible; 
+why should we despair that the remaining one shall also come to pass, 
+and that this which the world believed, though it was incredible, shall 
+itself occur? For already that which was equally incredible has come to 
+pass, in the world’s believing an incredible thing. Both were incredible: 
+the one we see accomplished, the other we believe shall be; for both 
+were predicted in those same Scriptures by means of which the world 
+believed. And the very manner in which the world’s faith was won is 
+found to be even more incredible, if we consider it. Men uninstructed in 
+any branch of a liberal education, without any of the refinement of 
+heathen learning, unskilled in grammar, not armed with dialectic, not 
+adorned with rhetoric, but plain fishermen, and very few in number— 
+these were the men whom Christ sent with the nets of faith to the sea of 
+this world, and thus took out of every race so many fishes, and even the 
+philosophers themselves, wonderful as they are rare. Let us add, if you 
+please, or because you ought to be pleased, this third incredible thing to 
+the two former. And now we have three incredibles, all of which have 
+
+
+yet come to pass. It is incredible that Jesus Christ should have risen in 
+the flesh and ascended with flesh into heaven; it is incredible that the 
+world should have believed so incredible a thing; it is incredible that a 
+very few men, of mean birth and the lowest rank, and no education, 
+should have been able so effectually to persuade the world, and even its 
+learned men, of so incredible a thing. Of these three incredibles, the 
+parties with whom we are debating refuse to believe the first; they 
+cannot refuse to see the second, which they are unable to account for if 
+they do not believe the third. It is indubitable that the resurrection of 
+Christ, and His ascension into heaven with the flesh in which He rose, is 
+already preached and believed in the whole world. If it is not credible, 
+how is it that it has already received credence in the whole world? If a 
+number of noble, exalted, and learned men had said that they had 
+witnessed it, and had been at pains to publish what they had witnessed, 
+it were not wonderful that the world should have believed it, but it were 
+very stubborn to refuse credence; but if, as is true, the world has 
+believed a few obscure, inconsiderable, uneducated persons, who state 
+and write that they witnessed it, is it not unreasonable that a handful of 
+wrong-headed men should oppose themselves to the creed of the whole 
+world, and refuse their belief? And if the world has put faith in a small 
+number of men, of mean birth and the lowest rank, and no education, it 
+is because the divinity of the thing itself appeared all the more 
+manifestly in such contemptible witnesses. The eloquence, indeed, which 
+lent persuasion to their message, consisted of wonderful works, not 
+words. For they who had not seen Christ risen in the flesh, nor ascending 
+into heaven with His risen body, believed those who related how they 
+had seen these things, and who testified not only with words but 
+wonderful signs. For men whom they knew to be acquainted with only 
+one, or at most two languages, they marvelled to hear speaking in the 
+tongues of all nations. They saw a man, lame from his mother’s womb, 
+after forty years stand up sound at their word in the name of Christ; that 
+handkerchiefs taken from their bodies had virtue to heal the sick; that 
+countless persons, sick of various diseases, were laid in a row in the road 
+where they were to pass, that their shadow might fall on them as they 
+walked, and that they forthwith received health; that many other 
+stupendous miracles were wrought by them in the name of Christ; and, 
+finally, that they even raised the dead. If it be admitted that these things 
+
+
+occurred as they are related, then we have a multitude of incredible 
+things to add to those three incredibles. That the one incredibility of the 
+resurrection and ascension of Jesus Christ may be believed, we 
+accumulate the testimonies of countless incredible miracles, but even so 
+we do not bend the frightful obstinacy of these sceptics. But if they do 
+not believe that these miracles were wrought by Christ’s apostles to gain 
+credence to their preaching of His resurrection and ascension, this one 
+grand miracle suffices for us, that the whole world has believed without 
+any miracles. 
+
+
+6. That Rome made its founder Romulus a god because it loved him; but the Church loved Christ 
+because it believed Him to be God 
+
+
+Let us here recite the passage in which Tully expresses his 
+astonishment that the apotheosis of Romulus should have been credited. 
+I shall insert his words as they stand: “It is most worthy of remark in 
+Romulus, that other men who are said to have become gods lived in less 
+educated ages, when there was a greater propensity to the fabulous, and 
+when the uninstructed were easily persuaded to believe anything. But 
+the age of Romulus was barely six hundred years ago, and already 
+literature and science had dispelled the errors that attach to an 
+uncultured age.” And a little after he says of the same Romulus words to 
+this effect: “From this we may perceive that Homer had flourished long 
+before Romulus, and that there was now so much learning in 
+individuals, and so generally diffused an enlightenment, that scarcely 
+any room was left for fable. For antiquity admitted fables, and 
+sometimes even very clumsy ones; but this age [of Romulus] was 
+sufficiently enlightened to reject whatever had not the air of truth.” Thus 
+one of the most learned men, and certainly the most eloquent, M. Tullius 
+Cicero, says that it is surprising that the divinity of Romulus was 
+believed in, because the times were already so enlightened that they 
+would not accept a fabulous fiction. But who believed that Romulus was 
+a god except Rome, which was itself small and in its infancy? Then 
+afterwards it was necessary that succeeding generations should preserve 
+the tradition of their ancestors; that, drinking in this superstition with 
+their mother’s milk, the state might grow and come to such power that it 
+might dictate this belief, as from a point of vantage, to all the nations 
+over whom its sway extended. And these nations, though they might not 
+
+
+believe that Romulus was a god, at least said so, that they might not give 
+offence to their sovereign state by refusing to give its founder that title 
+which was given him by Rome, which had adopted this belief, not by a 
+love of error, but an error of love. But though Christ is the founder of the 
+heavenly and eternal city, yet it did not believe Him to be God because 
+it was founded by Him, but rather it is founded by Him, in virtue of its 
+belief. Rome, after it had been built and dedicated, worshipped its 
+founder in a temple as a god; but this Jerusalem laid Christ, its God, as 
+its foundation, that the building and dedication might proceed. The 
+former city loved its founder, and therefore believed him to be a god; the 
+latter believed Christ to be God, and therefore loved Him. There was an 
+antecedent cause for the love of the former city, and for its believing 
+that even a false dignity attached to the object of its love; so there was 
+an antecedent cause for the belief of the latter, and for its loving the true 
+dignity which a proper faith, not a rash surmise, ascribed to its object. 
+For, not to mention the multitude of very striking miracles which proved 
+that Christ is God, there were also divine prophecies heralding Him, 
+prophecies most worthy of belief, which being already accomplished, we 
+have not, like the fathers, to wait for their verification. Of Romulus, on 
+the other hand, and of his building Rome and reigning in it, we read or 
+hear the narrative of what did take place, not prediction which 
+beforehand said that such things should be. And so far as his reception 
+among the gods is concerned, history only records that this was believed, 
+and does not state it as a fact; for no miraculous signs testified to the 
+truth of this. For as to that wolf which is said to have nursed the twin- 
+brothers, and which is considered a great marvel, how does this prove 
+him to have been divine? For even supposing that this nurse was a real 
+wolf and not a mere courtezan, yet she nursed both brothers, and Remus 
+is not reckoned a god. Besides, what was there to hinder any one from 
+asserting that Romulus or Hercules, or any such man, was a god? Or 
+who would rather choose to die than profess belief in his divinity? And 
+did a single nation worship Romulus among its gods, unless it were 
+forced through fear of the Roman name? But who can number the 
+multitudes who have chosen death in the most cruel shapes rather than 
+deny the divinity of Christ? And thus the dread of some slight 
+indignation, which it was supposed, perhaps groundlessly, might exist in 
+the minds of the Romans, constrained some states who were subject to 
+
+
+Rome to worship Romulus as a god; whereas the dread, not of a slight 
+mental shock, but of severe and various punishments, and of death itself, 
+the most formidable of all, could not prevent an immense multitude of 
+martyrs throughout the world from not merely worshipping but also 
+confessing Christ as God. The city of Christ, which, although as yet a 
+stranger upon earth, had countless hosts of citizens, did not make war 
+upon its godless persecutors for the sake of temporal security, but 
+preferred to win eternal salvation by abstaining from war. They were 
+bound, imprisoned, beaten, tortured, burned, torn in pieces, massacred, 
+and yet they multiplied. It was not given to them to fight for their 
+eternal salvation except by despising their temporal salvation for their 
+Saviour’s sake. 
+
+I am aware that Cicero, in the third book of his De Republica, if I 
+mistake not, argues that a first-rate power will not engage in war except 
+either for honour or for safety. What he has to say about the question of 
+safety, and what he means by safety, he explains in another place, 
+saying, “Private persons frequently evade, by a speedy death, 
+destitution, exile, bonds, the scourge, and the other pains which even the 
+most insensible feel. But to states, death, which seems to emancipate 
+individuals from all punishments, is itself a punishment; for a state 
+should be so constituted as to be eternal. And thus death is not natural 
+to a republic as to a man, to whom death is not only necessary, but often 
+even desirable. But when a state is destroyed, obliterated, annihilated, it 
+is as if (to compare great things with small) this whole world perished 
+and collapsed.” Cicero said this because he, with the Platonists, believed 
+that the world would not perish. It is therefore agreed that, according to 
+Cicero, a state should engage in war for the safety which preserves the 
+state permanently in existence, though its citizens change; as the foliage 
+of an olive or laurel, or any tree of this kind, is perennial, the old leaves 
+being replaced by fresh ones. For death, as he says, is no punishment to 
+individuals, but rather delivers them from all other punishments, but it 
+is a punishment to the state. And therefore it is reasonably asked 
+whether the Saguntines did right when they chose that their whole state 
+should perish rather than that they should break faith with the Roman 
+republic; for this deed of theirs is applauded by the citizens of the 
+earthly republic. But I do not see how they could follow the advice of 
+Cicero, who tells us that no war is to be undertaken save for safety or for 
+
+
+honour; neither does he say which of these two is to be preferred, if a 
+case should occur in which the one could not be preserved without the 
+loss of the other. For manifestly, if the Saguntines chose safety, they 
+must break faith; if they kept faith, they must reject safety; as also it fell 
+out. But the safety of the city of God is such that it can be retained, or 
+rather acquired, by faith and with faith; but if faith be abandoned, no 
+one can attain it. It is this thought of a most stedfast and patient spirit 
+that has made so many noble martyrs, while Romulus has not had, and 
+could not have, so much as one to die for his divinity. 
+
+
+7. That the world’s belief in Christ is the result of divine power, not of human persuasion 
+
+
+But it is thoroughly ridiculous to make mention of the false divinity of 
+Romulus as any way comparable to that of Christ. Nevertheless, if 
+Romulus lived about six hundred years before Cicero, in an age which 
+already was so enlightened that it rejected all impossibilities, how much 
+more, in an age which certainly was more enlightened, being six 
+hundred years later, the age of Cicero himself, and of the emperors 
+Augustus and Tiberius, would the human mind have refused to listen to 
+or believe in the resurrection of Christ’s body and its ascension into 
+heaven, and have scouted it as an impossibility, had not the divinity of 
+the truth itself, or the truth of the divinity, and corroborating miraculous 
+signs, proved that it could happen and had happened? Through virtue of 
+these testimonies, and notwithstanding the opposition and terror of so 
+many cruel persecutions, the resurrection and immortality of the flesh, 
+first in Christ, and subsequently in all in the new world, was believed, 
+was intrepidly proclaimed, and was sown over the whole world, to be 
+fertilized richly with the blood of the martyrs. For the predictions of the 
+prophets that had preceded the events were read, they were 
+corroborated by powerful signs, and the truth was seen to be not 
+contradictory to reason, but only different from customary ideas, so that 
+at length the world embraced the faith it had furiously persecuted. 
+
+
+8. Of miracles which were wrought that the world might believe in Christ, and which have not 
+
+
+ceased since the world believed 
+
+
+Why, they say, are those miracles, which you affirm were wrought 
+formerly, wrought no longer? I might, indeed, reply that miracles were 
+necessary before the world believed, in order that it might believe. And 
+
+
+whoever now-a-days demands to see prodigies that he may believe, is 
+himself a great prodigy, because he does not believe, though the whole 
+world does. But they make these objections for the sole purpose of 
+insinuating that even those former miracles were never wrought. How, 
+then, is it that everywhere Christ is celebrated with such firm belief in 
+His resurrection and ascension? How is it that in enlightened times, in 
+which every impossibility is rejected, the world has, without any 
+miracles, believed things marvellously incredible? Or will they say that 
+these things were credible, and therefore were credited? Why then do 
+they themselves not believe? Our argument, therefore, is a summary one 
+—either incredible things which were not witnessed have caused the 
+world to believe other incredible things which both occurred and were 
+witnessed, or this matter was so credible that it needed no miracles in 
+proof of it, and therefore convicts these unbelievers of unpardonable 
+scepticism. This I might say for the sake of refuting these most frivolous 
+objectors. But we cannot deny that many miracles were wrought to 
+confirm that one grand and health-giving miracle of Christ’s ascension to 
+heaven with the flesh in which He rose. For these most trustworthy 
+books of ours contain in one narrative both the miracles that were 
+wrought and the creed which they were wrought to confirm. The 
+miracles were published that they might produce faith, and the faith 
+which they produced brought them into greater prominence. For they 
+are read in congregations that they may be believed, and yet they would 
+not be so read unless they were believed. For even now miracles are 
+wrought in the name of Christ, whether by His sacraments or by the 
+prayers or relics of His saints; but they are not so brilliant and 
+conspicuous as to cause them to be published with such glory as 
+accompanied the former miracles. For the canon of the sacred writings, 
+which behoved to be closed,!2 causes those to be everywhere recited, 
+and to sink into the memory of all the congregations; but these modern 
+miracles are scarcely known even to the whole population in the midst 
+of which they are wrought, and at the best are confined to one spot. For 
+frequently they are known only to a very few persons, while all the rest 
+are ignorant of them, especially if the state is a large one; and when they 
+are reported to other persons in other localities, there is no sufficient 
+authority to give them prompt and unwavering credence, although they 
+are reported to the faithful by the faithful. 
+
+
+The miracle which was wrought at Milan when I was there, and by 
+which a blind man was restored to sight, could come to the knowledge 
+of many; for not only is the city a large one, but also the emperor was 
+there at the time, and the occurrence was witnessed by an immense 
+concourse of people that had gathered to the bodies of the martyrs 
+Protasius and Gervasius, which had long lain concealed and unknown, 
+but were now made known to the bishop Ambrose in a dream, and 
+discovered by him. By virtue of these remains the darkness of that blind 
+man was scattered, and he saw the light of day.!3 
+
+But who but a very small number are aware of the cure which was 
+wrought upon Innocentius, ex-advocate of the deputy prefecture, a cure 
+wrought at Carthage, in my presence, and under my own eyes? For when 
+I and my brother Alypius,!4 who were not yet clergymen,!5 though 
+already servants of God, came from abroad, this man received us, and 
+made us live with him, for he and all his household were devotedly 
+pious. He was being treated by medical men for fistula, of which he had 
+a large number intricately seated in the rectum. He had already 
+undergone an operation, and the surgeons were using every means at 
+their command for his relief. In that operation he had suffered long- 
+continued and acute pain; yet, among the many folds of the gut, one had 
+escaped the operators so entirely, that, though they ought to have laid it 
+open with the knife, they never touched it. And thus, though all those 
+that had been opened were cured, this one remained as it was, and 
+frustrated all their labour. The patient, having his suspicions awakened 
+by the delay thus occasioned, and fearing greatly a second operation, 
+which another medical man—one of his own domestics—had told him 
+he must undergo, though this man had not even been allowed to witness 
+the first operation, and had been banished from the house, and with 
+difficulty allowed to come back to his enraged master’s presence—the 
+patient, I say, broke out to the surgeons, saying, “Are you going to cut 
+me again? Are you, after all, to fulfil the prediction of that man whom 
+you would not allow even to be present?” The surgeons laughed at the 
+unskilful doctor, and soothed their patient’s fears with fair words and 
+promises. So several days passed, and yet nothing they tried did him 
+good. Still they persisted in promising that they would cure that fistula 
+by drugs, without the knife. They called in also another old practitioner 
+of great repute in that department, Ammonius (for he was still alive at 
+
+
+that time); and he, after examining the part, promised the same result as 
+themselves from their care and skill. On this great authority, the patient 
+became confident, and, as if already well, vented his good spirits in 
+facetious remarks at the expense of his domestic physician, who had 
+predicted a second operation. To make a long story short, after a number 
+of days had thus uselessly elapsed, the surgeons, wearied and confused, 
+had at last to confess that he could only be cured by the knife. Agitated 
+with excessive fear, he was terrified, and grew pale with dread; and 
+when he collected himself and was able to speak, he ordered them to go 
+away and never to return. Worn out with weeping, and driven by 
+necessity, it occurred to him to call in an Alexandrian, who was at that 
+time esteemed a wonderfully skilful operator, that he might perform the 
+operation his rage would not suffer them to do. But when he had come, 
+and examined with a professional eye the traces of their careful work, he 
+acted the part of a good man, and persuaded his patient to allow those 
+same hands the satisfaction of finishing his cure which had begun it with 
+a skill that excited his admiration, adding that there was no doubt his 
+only hope of a cure was by an operation, but that it was thoroughly 
+inconsistent with his nature to win the credit of the cure by doing the 
+little that remained to be done, and rob of their reward men whose 
+consummate skill, care, and diligence he could not but admire when he 
+saw the traces of their work. They were therefore again received to 
+favour; and it was agreed that, in the presence of the Alexandrian, they 
+should operate on the fistula, which, by the consent of all, could now 
+only be cured by the knife. The operation was deferred till the following 
+day. But when they had left, there arose in the house such a wailing, in 
+sympathy with the excessive despondency of the master, that it seemed 
+to us like the mourning at a funeral, and we could scarcely repress it. 
+Holy men were in the habit of visiting him daily; Saturninus of blessed 
+memory, at that time bishop of Uzali, and the presbyter Gelosus, and the 
+deacons of the church of Carthage; and among these was the bishop 
+Aurelius, who alone of them all survives—a man to be named by us with 
+due reverence—and with him I have often spoken of this affair, as we 
+conversed together about the wonderful works of God, and I have found 
+that he distinctly remembers what I am now relating. When these 
+persons visited him that evening according to their custom, he besought 
+them, with pitiable tears, that they would do him the honour of being 
+
+
+present next day at what he judged his funeral rather than his suffering. 
+For such was the terror his former pains had produced, that he made no 
+doubt he would die in the hands of the surgeons. They comforted him, 
+and exhorted him to put his trust in God, and nerve his will like a man. 
+Then we went to prayer; but while we, in the usual way, were kneeling 
+and bending to the ground, he cast himself down, as if some one were 
+hurling him violently to the earth, and began to pray; but in what a 
+manner, with what earnestness and emotion, with what a flood of tears, 
+with what groans and sobs, that shook his whole body, and almost 
+prevented him speaking, who can describe! Whether the others prayed, 
+and had not their attention wholly diverted by this conduct, I do not 
+know. For myself, I could not pray at all. This only I briefly said in my 
+heart: “O Lord, what prayers of Thy people dost Thou hear if Thou 
+hearest not these?” For it seemed to me that nothing could be added to 
+this prayer, unless he expired in praying. We rose from our knees, and, 
+receiving the blessing of the bishop, departed, the patient beseeching his 
+vistors to be present next morning, they exhorting him to keep up his 
+heart. The dreaded day dawned. The servants of God were present, as 
+they had promised to be; the surgeons arrived; all that the circumstances 
+required was ready; the frightful instruments are produced; all look on in 
+wonder and suspense. While those who have most influence with the 
+patient are cheering his fainting spirit, his limbs are arranged on the 
+couch so as to suit the hand of the operator; the knots of the bandages 
+are untied; the part is bared; the surgeon examines it, and, with knife in 
+hand, eagerly looks for the sinus that is to be cut. He searches for it with 
+his eyes; he feels for it with his finger; he applies every kind of scrutiny: 
+he finds a perfectly firm cicatrix! No words of mine can describe the joy, 
+and praise, and thanksgiving to the merciful and almighty God which 
+was poured from the lips of all, with tears of gladness. Let the scene be 
+imagined rather than described! 
+
+In the same city of Carthage lived Innocentia, a very devout woman of 
+the highest rank in the state. She had cancer in one of her breasts, a 
+disease which, as physicians say, is incurable. Ordinarily, therefore, they 
+either amputate, and so separate from the body the member on which 
+the disease has seized, or, that the patient’s life may be prolonged a 
+little, though death is inevitable even if somewhat delayed, they 
+abandon all remedies, following, as they say, the advice of Hippocrates. 
+
+
+This the lady we speak of had been advised to by a skilful physician, 
+who was intimate with her family; and she betook herself to God alone 
+by prayer. On the approach of Easter, she was instructed in a dream to 
+wait for the first woman that came out from the baptistery!® after being 
+baptized, and to ask her to make the sign of Christ upon her sore. She 
+did so, and was immediately cured. The physician who had advised her 
+to apply no remedy if she wished to live a little longer, when he had 
+examined her after this, and found that she who, on his former 
+examination, was afflicted with that disease was now perfectly cured, 
+eagerly asked her what remedy she had used, anxious, as we may well 
+believe, to discover the drug which should defeat the decision of 
+Hippocrates. But when she told him what had happened, he is said to 
+have replied, with religious politeness, though with a contemptuous 
+tone, and an expression which made her fear he would utter some 
+blasphemy against Christ, “I thought you would make some great 
+discovery to me.” She, shuddering at his indifference, quickly replied, 
+“What great thing was it for Christ to heal a cancer, who raised one who 
+had been four days dead?” When, therefore, I had heard this, I was 
+extremely indignant that so great a miracle, wrought in that well-known 
+city, and on a person who was certainly not obscure, should not be 
+divulged, and I considered that she should be spoken to, if not 
+reprimanded on this score. And when she replied to me that she had not 
+kept silence on the subject, I asked the women with whom she was best 
+acquainted whether they had ever heard of this before. They told me 
+they knew nothing of it. “See,” I said, “what your not keeping silence 
+amounts to, since not even those who are so familiar with you know of 
+it.” And as I had only briefly heard the story, I made her tell how the 
+whole thing happened, from beginning to end, while the other women 
+listened in great astonishment, and glorified God. 
+
+A gouty doctor of the same city, when he had given in his name for 
+baptism, and had been prohibited the day before his baptism from being 
+baptized that year, by black woolly-haired boys who appeared to him in 
+his dreams, and whom he understood to be devils, and when, though 
+they trod on his feet, and inflicted the acutest pain he had ever yet 
+experienced, he refused to obey them, but overcame them, and would 
+not defer being washed in the laver of regeneration, was relieved in the 
+very act of baptism, not only of the extraordinary pain he was tortured 
+
+
+with, but also of the disease itself, so that, though he lived a long time 
+afterwards, he never suffered from gout; and yet who knows of this 
+miracle? We, however, do know it, and so, too, do the small number of 
+brethren who were in the neighbourhood, and to whose ears it might 
+come. 
+
+An old comedian of Curubis!7 was cured at baptism not only of 
+paralysis, but also of hernia, and, being delivered from both afflictions, 
+came up out of the font of regeneration as if he had had nothing wrong 
+with his body. Who outside of Curubis knows of this, or who but a very 
+few who might hear it elsewhere? But we, when we heard of it, made 
+the man come to Carthage, by order of the holy bishop Aurelius, 
+although we had already ascertained the fact on the information of 
+persons whose word we could not doubt. 
+
+Hesperius, of a tribunitian family, and a neighbour of our own,!8 has a 
+farm called Zubedi in the Fussalian district;!19 and, finding that his 
+family, his cattle, and his servants were suffering from the malice of evil 
+spirits, he asked our presbyters, during my absence, that one of them 
+would go with him and banish the spirits by his prayers. One went, 
+offered there the sacrifie of the body of Christ, praying with all his might 
+that that vexation might cease. It did cease forthwith, through God’s 
+mercy. Now he had received from a friend of his own some holy earth 
+brought from Jerusalem, where Christ, having been buried, rose again 
+the third day. This earth he had hung up in his bedroom to preserve 
+himself from harm. But when his house was purged of that demoniacal 
+invasion, he began to consider what should be done with the earth; for 
+his reverence for it made him unwilling to have it any longer in his 
+bedroom. It so happened that I and Maximinus bishop of Synita, and 
+then my colleague, were in the neighbourhood. Hesperius asked us to 
+visit him, and we did so. When he had related all the circumstances, he 
+begged that the earth might be buried somewhere, and that the spot 
+should be made a place of prayer where Christians might assemble for 
+the worship of God. We made no objection: it was done as he desired. 
+There was in that neighbourhood a young countryman who was 
+paralytic, who, when he heard of this, begged his parents to take him 
+without delay to that holy place. When he had been brought there, he 
+prayed, and forthwith went away on his own feet perfectly cured. 
+
+There is a country-seat called Victoriana, less than thirty miles from 
+
+
+Hippo-regius. At it there is a monument to the Milanese martyrs, 
+Protasius and Gervasius. Thither a young man was carried, who, when 
+he was watering his horse one summer day at noon in a pool of a river, 
+had been taken possession of by a devil. As he lay at the monument, 
+near death, or even quite like a dead person, the lady of the manor, with 
+her maids and religious attendants, entered the place for evening prayer 
+and praise, as her custom was, and they began to sing hymns. At this 
+sound the young man, as if electrified, was thoroughly aroused. and with 
+frightful screaming seized the altar, and held it as if he did not dare or 
+were not able to let it go, and as if he were fixed or tied to it; and the 
+devil in him, with loud lamentation, besought that he might be spared, 
+and confessed where and when and how he took possession of the youth. 
+At last, declaring that he would go out of him, he named one by one the 
+parts of his body which he threatened to mutilate as he went out; and 
+with these words he departed from the man. But his eye, falling out on 
+his cheek, hung by a slender vein as by a root, and the whole of the 
+pupil which had been black became white. When this was witnessed by 
+those present (others too had now gathered to his cries, and had all 
+joined in prayer for him), although they were delighted that he had 
+recovered his sanity of mind, yet, on the other hand, they were grieved 
+about his eye, and said he should seek medical advice. But his sister’s 
+husband, who had brought him there, said, “God, who has banished the 
+devil, is able to restore his eye at the prayers of His saints.” Therewith 
+he replaced the eye that was fallen out and hanging, and bound it in its 
+place with his handkerchief as well as he could, and advised him not to 
+loose the bandage for seven days. When he did so, he found it quite 
+healthy. Others also were cured there, but of them it were tedious to 
+speak. 
+
+I know that a young woman of Hippo was immediately dispossessed of 
+a devil, on anointing herself with oil mixed with the tears of the 
+presbyter who had been praying for her. I know also that a bishop once 
+prayed for a demoniac young man whom he never saw, and that he was 
+cured on the spot. 
+
+There was a fellow-townsman of ours at Hippo, Florentius, an old 
+man, religious and poor, who supported himself as a tailor. Having lost 
+his coat, and not having means to buy another, he prayed to the Twenty 
+Martyrs,2° who have a very celebrated memorial shrine in our town, 
+
+
+begging in a distinct voice that he might be clothed. Some scoffing 
+young men, who happened to be present, heard him, and followed him 
+with their sarcasm as he went away, as if he had asked the martyrs for 
+fifty pence to buy a coat. But he, walking on in silence, saw on the shore 
+a great fish, gasping as if just cast up, and having secured it with the 
+good-natured assistance of the youths, he sold it for curing to a cook of 
+the name of Catosus, a good Christian man, telling him how he had 
+come by it, and receiving for it three hundred pence, which he laid out 
+in wool, that his wife might exercise her skill upon, and make into a coat 
+for him. But, on cutting up the fish, the cook found a gold ring in its 
+belly; and forthwith, moved with compassion, and influenced, too, by 
+religious fear, gave it up to the man, saying, “See how the Twenty 
+Martyrs have clothed you.” 
+
+When the bishop Projectus was bringing the relics of the most glorious 
+martyr Stephen to the waters of Tibilis, a great concourse of people came 
+to meet him at the shrine. There a blind woman entreated that she might 
+be led to the bishop who was carrying the relics. He gave her the flowers 
+he was carrying. She took them, applied them to her eyes, and forthwith 
+saw. Those who were present were astounded, while she, with every 
+expression of joy, preceded them, pursuing her way without further need 
+of a guide. 
+
+Lucillus bishop of Sinita, in the neighbourhood of the colonial town of 
+Hippo, was carrying in procession some relics of the same martyr, which 
+had been deposited in the castle of Sinita. A fistula under which he had 
+long laboured, and which his private physician was watching an 
+opportunity to cut, was suddenly cured by the mere carrying of that 
+sacred fardel2!—at least, afterwards there was no trace of it in his body. 
+
+Eucharius, a Spanish priest, residing at Calama, was for a long time a 
+sufferer from stone. By the relics of the same martyr, which the bishop 
+Possidius brought him, he was cured. Afterwards the same priest, sinking 
+under another disease, was lying dead, and already they were binding 
+his hands. By the succour of the same martyr he was raised to life,the 
+priest’s cloak having been brought from the oratory and laid upon the 
+corpse. 
+
+There was there an old nobleman named Martial, who had a great 
+aversion to the Christian religion, but whose daughter was a Christian, 
+while her husband had been baptized that same year. When he was ill, 
+
+
+they besought him with tears and prayers to become a Christian, but he 
+positively refused, and dismissed them from his presence in a storm of 
+indignation. It occurred to the son-in-law to go to the oratory of St. 
+Stephen, and there pray for him with all earnestness that God might give 
+him a right mind, so that he should not delay believing in Christ. This he 
+did with great groaning and tears, and the burning fervour of sincere 
+piety; then, as he left the place, he took some of the flowers that were 
+lying there, and, as it was already night, laid them by his father’s head, 
+who so slept. And lo! before dawn, he cries out for some one to run for 
+the bishop; but he happened at that time to be with me at Hippo. So 
+when he had heard that he was from home, he asked the presbyters to 
+come. They came. To the joy and amazement of all, he declared that he 
+believed, and he was baptized. As long as he remained in life, these 
+words were ever on his lips: “Christ, receive my spirit,” though he was 
+not aware that these were the last words of the most blessed Stephen 
+when he was stoned by the Jews. They were his last words also, for not 
+long after he himself also gave up the ghost. 
+
+There, too, by the same martyr, two men, one a citizen, the other a 
+stranger, were cured of gout; but while the citizen was absolutely cured, 
+the stranger was only informed what he should apply when the pain 
+returned; and when he followed this advice, the pain was at once 
+relieved. 
+
+Audurus is the name of an estate, where there is a church that 
+contains a memorial shrine of the martyr Stephen. It happened that, as a 
+little boy was playing in the court, the oxen drawing a waggon went out 
+of the track and crushed him with the wheel, so that immediately he 
+seemed at his last gasp. His mother snatched him up, and laid him at the 
+shrine, and not only did he revive, but also appeared uninjured. 
+
+A religious female, who lived at Caspalium, a neighbouring estate, 
+when she saw so ill as to be despaired of, had her dress brought to this 
+shrine, but before it was brought back she was gone. However, her 
+parents wrapped her corpse in the dress, and, her breath returning, she 
+became quite well. 
+
+At Hippo a Syrian called Bassus was praying at the relics of the same 
+martyr for his daughter, who was dangerously ill. He too had brought 
+her dress with him to the shrine. But as he prayed, behold, his servants 
+ran from the house to tell him she was dead. His friends, however, 
+
+
+intercepted them, and forbade them to tell him, lest he should bewail 
+her in public. And when he had returned to his house, which was 
+already ringing with the lamentations of his family, and had thrown on 
+his daughter’s body the dress he was carrying, she was restored to life. 
+
+There, too, the son of a man, Irenzus, one of our taxgatherers, took ill 
+and died. And while his body was lying lifeless, and the last rites were 
+being prepared, amidst the weeping and mourning of all, one of the 
+friends who were consoling the father suggested that the body should be 
+anointed with the oil of the same martyr. It was done, and he revived. 
+
+Likewise Eleusinus, a man of tribunitian rank among us, laid his infant 
+son, who had died, on the shrine of the martyr, which is in the suburb 
+where he lived, and, after prayer, which he poured out there with many 
+tears, he took up his child alive. 
+
+What am I to do? I am so pressed by the promise of finishing this 
+work, that I cannot record all the miracles I know; and doubtless several 
+of our adherents, when they read what I have narrated, will regret that I 
+have omitted so many which they, as well as I, certainly know. Even 
+now I beg these persons to excuse me, and to consider how long it would 
+take me to relate all those miracles, which the necessity of finishing the 
+work I have undertaken forces me to omit. For were I to be silent of all 
+others, and to record exclusively the miracles of healing which were 
+wrought in the district of Calama and of Hippo by means of this martyr 
+—I mean the most glorious Stephen—they would fill many volumes; and 
+yet all even of these could not be collected, but only those of which 
+narratives have been written for public recital. For when I saw, in our 
+own times, frequent signs of the presence of divine powers similar to 
+those which had been given of old, I desired that narratives might be 
+written, judging that the multitude should not remain ignorant of these 
+things. It is not yet two years since these relics were first brought to 
+Hippo-regius, and though many of the miracles which have been 
+wrought by it have not, as I have the most certain means of knowing, 
+been recorded, those which have been published amount to almost 
+seventy at the hour at which I write. But at Calama, where these relics 
+have been for a longer time, and where more of the miracles were 
+narrated for public information, there are incomparably more. 
+
+At Uzali, too, a colony near Utica, many signal miracles were, to my 
+knowledge, wrought by the same martyr, whose relics had found a place 
+
+
+there by direction of the bishop Evodius, long before we had them at 
+Hippo. But there the custom of publishing narratives does not obtain, or, 
+I should say, did not obtain, for possibly it may now have been begun. 
+For, when I was there recently, a woman of rank, Petronia, had been 
+miraculously cured of a serious illness of long standing, in which all 
+medical appliances had failed, and, with the consent of the abovenamed 
+bishop of the place, I exhorted her to publish an account of it that might 
+be read to the people. She most promptly obeyed, and inserted in her 
+narrative a circumstance which I cannot omit to mention, though I am 
+compelled to hasten on to the subjects which this work requires me to 
+treat. She said that she had been persuaded by a Jew to wear next her 
+skin, under all her clothes, a hair girdle, and on this girdle a ring, which, 
+instead of a gem, had a stone which had been found in the kidneys of an 
+ox. Girt with this charm, she was making her way to the threshold of the 
+holy martyr. But, after leaving Carthage, and when she had been lodging 
+in her own demesne on the river Bagrada, and was now rising to 
+continue her journey, she saw her ring lying before her feet. In great 
+surprise she examined the hair girdle, and when she found it bound, as it 
+had been, quite firmly with knots, she conjectured that the ring had been 
+worn through and dropped off; but when she found that the ring was 
+itself also perfectly whole, she presumed that by this great miracle she 
+had received somehow a pledge of her cure, whereupon she untied the 
+girdle, and cast it into the river, and the ring along with it. This is not 
+credited by those who do not believe either that the Lord Jesus Christ 
+came forth from His mother’s womb without destroying her virginity, 
+and entered among His disciples when the doors were shut; but let them 
+make strict inquiry into this miracle, and if they find it true, let them 
+believe those others. The lady is of distinction, nobly born, married to a 
+nobleman. She resides at Carthage. The city is distinguished, the person 
+is distinguished, so that they who make inquiries cannot fail to find 
+satisfaction. Certainly the martyr himself, by whose prayers she was 
+healed, believed on the Son of her who remained a virgin; on Him who 
+came in among the disciples when the doors were shut; in fine—and to 
+this tends all that we have been retailing—on Him who ascended into 
+heaven with the flesh in which He had risen; and it is because he laid 
+down his life for this faith that such miracles were done by his means. 
+Even now, therefore, many miracles are wrought, the same God who 
+
+
+wrought those we read of still performing them, by whom He will and as 
+He will; but they are not as well known, nor are they beaten into the 
+memory, like gravel, by frequent reading, so that they cannot fall out of 
+mind. For even where, as is now done among ourselves, care is taken 
+that the pamphlets of those who receive benefit be read publicly, yet 
+those who are present hear the narrative but once, and many are absent; 
+and so it comes to pass that even those who are present forget in a few 
+days what they heard, and scarcely one of them can be found who will 
+tell what he heard to one who he knows was not present. 
+
+One miracle was wrought among ourselves, which, though no greater 
+than those I have mentioned, was yet so signal and conspicuous, that I 
+suppose there is no inhabitant of Hippo who did not either see or hear of 
+it, none who could possibly forget it. There were seven brothers and 
+three sisters of a noble family of the Cappadocian Czsarea, who were 
+cursed by their mother, a new-made widow, on account of some wrong 
+they had done her, and which she bitterly resented, and who were 
+visited with so severe a punishment from Heaven, that all of them were 
+seized with a hideous shaking in all their limbs. Unable, while 
+presenting this loathsome appearance, to endure the eyes of their fellow- 
+citizens, they wandered over almost the whole Roman world, each 
+following his own direction. Two of them came to Hippo, a brother and 
+a sister, Paulus and Palladia, already known in many other places by the 
+fame of their wretched lot. Now it was about fifteen days before Easter 
+when they came, and they came daily to church, and specially to the 
+relics of the most glorious Stephen, praying that God might now be 
+appeased, and restore their former health. There, and wherever they 
+went, they attracted the attention of every one. Some who had seen 
+them elsewhere, and knew the cause of their trembling, told others as 
+occasion offered. Easter arrived, and on the Lord’s day, in the morning, 
+when there was now a large crowd present, and the young man was 
+holding the bars of the holy place where the relics were, and praying, 
+suddenly he fell down, and lay precisely as if asleep, but not trembling 
+as he was wont to do even in sleep. All present were astonished. Some 
+were alarmed, some were moved with pity; and while some were for 
+lifting him up, others prevented them, and said they should rather wait 
+and see what would result. And behold! he rose up, and trembled no 
+more, for he was healed, and stood quite well, scanning those who were 
+
+
+scanning him. Who then refrained himself from praising God? The whole 
+church was filled with the voices of those who were shouting and 
+congratulating him. Then they came running to me, where I was sitting 
+ready to come into the church. One after another they throng in, the last 
+comer telling me as news what the first had told me already; and while I 
+rejoiced and inwardly gave God thanks, the young man himself also 
+enters, with a number of others, falls at my knees, is raised up to receive 
+my kiss. We go in to the congregation: the church was full, and ringing 
+with the shouts of joy, “Thanks to God! Praised be God!” every one 
+joining and shouting on all sides, “I have healed the people,” and then 
+with still louder voice shouting again. Silence being at last obtained, the 
+customary lessons of the divine Scriptures were read. And when I came 
+to my sermon, I made a few remarks suitable to the occasion and the 
+happy and joyful feeling, not desiring them to listen to me, but rather to 
+consider the eloquence of God in this divine work. The man dined with 
+us, and gave us a careful account of his own, his mother’s, and his 
+family’s calamity. Accordingly, on the following day, after delivering my 
+sermon, I promised that next day I would read his narrative to the 
+people.22 And when I did so, the third day after Easter Sunday, I made 
+the brother and sister both stand on the steps of the raised place from 
+which I used to speak; and while they stood there their pamphlet was 
+read.23 The whole congregation, men and women alike, saw the one 
+standing without any unnatural movement, the other trembling in all her 
+limbs; so that those who had not before seen the man himself saw in his 
+sister what the divine compassion had removed from him. In him they 
+saw matter of congratulation, in her subject for prayer. Meanwhile, their 
+pamphlet being finished, I instructed them to withdraw from the gaze of 
+the people; and I had begun to discuss the whole matter somewhat more 
+carefully, when lo! as I was proceeding, other voices are heard from the 
+tomb of the martyr, shouting new congratulations. My audience turned 
+round, and began to run to the tomb. The young woman, when she had 
+come down from the steps where she had been standing, went to pray at 
+the holy relics, and no sooner had she touched the bars than she, in the 
+same way as her brother, collapsed, as if falling asleep, and rose up 
+cured. While, then, we were asking what had happened, and what 
+occasioned this noise of joy, they came into the basilica where we were, 
+leading her from the martyr’s tomb in perfect health. Then, indeed, such 
+
+
+a shout of wonder rose from men and women together, that the 
+exclamations and the tears seemed like never to come to an end. She was 
+led to the place where she had a little before stood trembling. They now 
+rejoiced that she was like her brother, as before they had mourned that 
+she remained unlike him; and as they had not yet uttered their prayers 
+in her behalf, they perceived that their intention of doing so had been 
+speedily heard. They shouted God’s praises without words, but with such 
+a noise that our ears could scarcely bear it. What was there in the hearts 
+of these exultant people but the faith of Christ, for which Stephen had 
+shed his blood? 
+
+
+9. That all the miracles which are done by means of the martyrs in the name of Christ testify to 
+that faith which the martyrs had in Christ 
+
+
+To what do these miracles witness, but to this faith which preaches 
+Christ risen in the flesh, and ascended with the same into heaven? For 
+the martyrs themselves were martyrs, that is to say, witnesses of this 
+faith, drawing upon themselves by their testimony the hatred of the 
+world, and conquering the world not by resisting it, but by dying. For 
+this faith they died, and can now ask these benefits from the Lord in 
+whose name they were slain. For this faith their marvellous constancy 
+was exercised, so that in these miracles great power was manifested as 
+the result. For if the resurrection of the flesh to eternal life had not taken 
+place in Christ, and were not to be accomplished in His people, as 
+predicted by Christ, or by the prophets who foretold that Christ was to 
+come, why do the martyrs who were slain for this faith which proclaims 
+the resurrection possess such power? For whether God Himself wrought 
+these miracles by that wonderful manner of working by which, though 
+Himself eternal, He produces effects in time; or whether He wrought 
+them by servants, and if so, whether He made use of the spirits of 
+martyrs as He uses men who are still in the body, or effects all these 
+marvels by means of angels, over whom He exerts an invisible, 
+immutable, incorporeal sway, so that what is said to be done by the 
+martyrs is done not by their operation, but only by their prayer and 
+request; or whether, finally, some things are done in one way, others in 
+another, and so that man cannot at all comprehend them—nevertheless 
+these miracles attest this faith which preaches the resurrection of the 
+flesh to eternal life. 
+
+
+10. That the martyrs who obtain many miracles in order that the true God may be worshipped, are 
+worthy of much greater honour than the demons, who do some marvels that they themselves 
+
+
+may be supposed to be God 
+
+
+Here perhaps our adversaries will say that their gods also have done 
+some wonderful things, if now they begin to compare their gods to our 
+dead men. Or will they also say that they have gods taken from among 
+dead men, such as Hercules, Romulus, and many others whom they 
+fancy to have been received into the number of the gods? But our 
+martyrs are not our gods; for we know that the martyrs and we have 
+both but one God, and that the same. Nor yet are the miracles which 
+they maintain to have been done by means of their temples at all 
+comparable to those which are done by the tombs of our martyrs. If they 
+seem similar, their gods have been defeated by our martyrs as Pharaoh’s 
+magi were by Moses. In reality, the demons wrought these marvels with 
+the same impure pride with which they aspired to be the gods of the 
+nations; but the martyrs do these wonders, or rather God does them 
+while they pray and assist, in order that an impulse may be given to the 
+faith by which we believe that they are not our gods, but have, together 
+with ourselves, one God. In fine, they built temples to these gods of 
+theirs, and set up altars, and ordained priests, and appointed sacrifices; 
+but to our martyrs we build, not temples as if they were gods, but 
+monuments as to dead men whose spirits live with God. Neither do we 
+erect altars at these monuments that we may sacrifice to the martyrs, but 
+to the one God of the martyrs and of ourselves; and in this sacrifice they 
+are named in their own place and rank as men of God who conquered 
+the world by confessing Him, but they are not invoked by the sacrificing 
+priest. For it is to God, not to them, he sacrifices, though he sacrifices at 
+their monument; for he is God’s priest, not theirs. The sacrifice itself, 
+too, is the body of Christ, which is not offered to them, because they 
+themselves are this body. Which then can more readily be believed to 
+work miracles? They who wish themselves to be reckoned gods by those 
+on whom they work miracles, or those whose sole object in working any 
+miracle is to induce faith in God, and in Christ also as God? They who 
+wished to turn even their crimes into sacred rites, or those who are 
+unwilling that even their own praises be consecrated, and seek that 
+everything for which they are justly praised be ascribed to the glory of 
+
+
+Him in whom they are praised? For in the Lord their souls are praised. 
+Let us therefore believe those who both speak the truth and work 
+wonders. For by speaking the truth they suffered, and so won the power 
+of working wonders. And the leading truth they professed is that Christ 
+rose from the dead, and first showed in His own flesh the immortality of 
+the resurrection which He promised should be ours, either in the 
+beginning of the world to come, or in the end of this world. 
+
+
+11. Against the Platonists, who argue from the physical weight of the elements that an earthly 
+
+
+body cannot inhabit heaven 
+
+
+But against this great gift of God, these reasoners, “whose thoughts the 
+Lord knows that they are vain,”24 bring arguments from the weights of 
+the elements; for they have been taught by their master Plato that the 
+two greatest elements of the world, and the furthest removed from one 
+another, are coupled and united by the two intermediate, air and water. 
+And consequently they say, since the earth is the first of the elements, 
+beginning from the base of the series, the second the water above the 
+earth, the third the air above the water, the fourth the heaven above the 
+air, it follows that a body of earth cannot live in the heaven; for each 
+element is poised by its own weight so as to preserve its own place and 
+rank. Behold with what arguments human infirmity, possessed with 
+vanity, contradicts the omnipotence of God! What, then, do so many 
+earthly bodies do in the air, since the air is the third element from the 
+earth? Unless perhaps He who has granted to the earthly bodies of birds 
+that they be carried through the air by the lightness of feathers and 
+wings, has not been able to confer upon the bodies of men made 
+immortal the power to abide in the highest heaven. The earthly animals, 
+too, which cannot fly, among which are men, ought on these terms to 
+live under the earth, as fishes, which are the animals of the water, live 
+under the water. Why, then, can an animal of earth not live in the 
+second element, that is, in water, while it can in the third? Why, though 
+it belongs to the earth, is it forthwith suffocated if it is forced to live in 
+the second element next above earth, while it lives in the third, and 
+cannot live out of it? Is there a mistake here in the order of the elements, 
+or is not the mistake rather in their reasonings, and not in the nature of 
+things? I will not repeat what I said in the thirteenth book,25 that many 
+earthly bodies, though heavy like lead, receive from the workman’s hand 
+
+
+a form which enables them to swim in water; and yet it is denied that 
+the omnipotent Worker can confer on the human body a property which 
+shall enable it to pass into heaven and dwell there. 
+
+But against what I have formerly said they can find nothing to say, 
+even though they introduce and make the most of this order of the 
+elements in which they confide. For if the order be that the earth is first, 
+the water second, the air third, the heaven fourth, then the soul is above 
+all. For Aristotle said that the soul was a fifth body, while Plato denied 
+that it was a body at all. If it were a fifth body, then certainly it would 
+be above the rest; and if it is not a body at all, so much the more does it 
+rise above all. What, then, does it do in an earthly body? What does this 
+soul, which is finer than all else, do in such a mass of matter as this? 
+What does the lightest of substances do in this ponderosity? this swiftest 
+substance in such sluggishness? Will not the body be raised to heaven by 
+virtue of so excellent a nature as this? and if now earthly bodies can 
+retain the souls below, shall not the souls be one day able to raise the 
+earthly bodies above? 
+
+If we pass now to their miracles which they oppose to our martyrs as 
+wrought by their gods, shall not even these be found to make for us, and 
+help out our argument? For if any of the miracles of their gods are great, 
+certainly that is a great one which Varro mentions of a vestal virgin, 
+who, when she was endangered by a false accusation of unchastity, filled 
+a sieve with water from the Tiber, and carried it to her judges without 
+any part of it leaking. Who kept the weight of water in the sieve? Who 
+prevented any drop from falling from it through so many open holes? 
+They will answer, Some god or some demon. If a god, is he greater than 
+the God who made the world? If a demon, is he mightier than an angel 
+who serves the God by whom the world was made? If, then, a lesser god, 
+angel, or demon could so sustain the weight of this liquid element that 
+the water might seem to have changed its nature, shall not Almighty 
+God, who Himself created all the elements, be able to eliminate from the 
+earthly body its heaviness, so that the quickened body shall dwell in 
+whatever element the quickening spirit pleases? 
+
+Then, again, since they give the air a middle place between the fire 
+above and the water beneath, how is it that we often find it between 
+water and water, and between the water and the earth? For what do 
+they make of those watery clouds, between which and the seas air is 
+
+
+constantly found intervening? I should like to know by what weight and 
+order of the elements it comes to pass that very violent and stormy 
+torrents are suspended in the clouds above the earth before they rush 
+along upon the earth under the air? In fine, why is it that throughout the 
+whole globe the air is between the highest heaven and the earth, if its 
+place is between the sky and the water, as the place of the water is 
+between the sky and the earth? 
+
+Finally, if the order of the elements is so disposed that, as Plato thinks, 
+the two extremes, fire and earth, are united by the two means, air and 
+water, and that the fire occupies the highest part of the sky, and the 
+earth the lowest part, or as it were the foundation of the world, and that 
+therefore earth cannot be in the heavens, how is fire in the earth? For, 
+according to this reasoning, these two elements, earth and fire, ought to 
+be so restricted to their own places, the highest and the lowest, that 
+neither the lowest can rise to the place of the highest, nor the highest 
+sink to that of the lowest. Thus, as they think that no particle of earth is 
+or shall ever be in the sky, so we ought to see no particle of fire on the 
+earth. But the fact is that it exists to such an extent, not only on but even 
+under the earth, that the tops of mountains vomit it forth; besides that 
+we see it to exist on earth for human uses, and even to be produced from 
+the earth, since it is kindled from wood and stones, which are without 
+doubt earthly bodies. But that [upper] fire, they say, is tranquil, pure, 
+harmless, eternal; but this [earthly] fire is turbid, smoky, corruptible, 
+and corrupting. But it does not corrupt the mountains and caverns of the 
+earth in which it rages continually. But grant that the earthly fire is so 
+unlike the other as to suit its earthly position, why then do they object to 
+our believing that the nature of earthly bodies shall some day be made 
+incorruptible and fit for the sky, even as now fire is corruptible and 
+suited to the earth? They therefore adduce from their weights and order 
+of the elements nothing from which they can prove that it is impossible 
+for Almighty God to make our bodies such that they can dwell in the 
+skies. 
+
+
+12. Against the calumnies with which unbelievers throw ridicule upon the Christian faith in the 
+
+
+resurrection of the flesh 
+
+
+But their way is to feign a scrupulous anxiety in investigating this 
+question, and to cast ridicule on our faith in the resurrection of the body, 
+
+
+by asking, Whether abortions shall rise? And as the Lord says, “Verily I 
+say unto you, not a hair of your head shall perish,”26 shall all bodies 
+have an equal stature and strength, or shall there be differences in size? 
+For if there is to be equality, where shall those abortions, supposing that 
+they rise again, get that bulk which they had not here? Or if they shall 
+not rise because they were not born but cast out, they raise the same 
+question about children who have died in childhood, asking us whence 
+they get the stature which we see they had not here; for we will not say 
+that those who have been not only born, but born again, shall not rise 
+again. Then, further, they ask of what size these equal bodies shall be. 
+For if all shall be as tall and large as were the tallest and largest in this 
+world, they ask us how it is that not only children but many full-grown 
+persons shall receive what they here did not possess, if each one is to 
+receive what he had here. And if the saying of the apostle, that we are 
+all to come to the “measure of the age of the fulness of Christ,”2” or that 
+other saying, “Whom He predestinated to be conformed to the image of 
+His Son,”28 is to be understood to mean that the stature and size of 
+Christ’s body shall be the measure of the bodies of all those who shall be 
+in His kingdom, then, say they, the size and height of many must be 
+diminished; and if so much of the bodily frame itself be lost, what 
+becomes of the saying, “Not a hair of your head shall perish?” Besides, it 
+might be asked regarding the hair itself, whether all that the barber has 
+cut off shall be restored? And if it is to be restored, who would not 
+shrink from such deformity? For as the same restoration will be made of 
+what has been pared off the nails, much will be replaced on the body 
+which a regard for its appearance had cut off. And where, then, will be 
+its beauty, which assuredly ought to be much greater in that immortal 
+condition than it could be in this corruptible state? On the other hand, if 
+such things are not restored to the body, they must perish; how, then, 
+they say, shall not a hair of the head perish? In like manner they reason 
+about fatness and leanness; for if all are to be equal, then certainly there 
+shall not be some fat, others lean. Some, therefore, shall gain, others lose 
+something. Consequently there will not be a simple restoration of what 
+formerly existed, but, on the one hand, an addition of what had no 
+existence, and, on the other, a loss of what did before exist. 
+
+The difficulties, too, about the corruption and dissolution of dead 
+bodies—that one is turned into dust, while another evaporates into the 
+
+
+air; that some are devoured by beasts, some by fire, while some perish 
+by shipwreck or by drowning in one shape or other, so that their bodies 
+decay into liquid—these difficulties give them immoderate alarm, and 
+they believe that all those dissolved elements cannot be gathered again 
+and reconstructed into a body. They also make eager use of all the 
+deformities and blemishes which either accident or birth has produced, 
+and accordingly, with horror and derision, cite monstrous births, and ask 
+if every deformity will be preserved in the resurrection. For if we say 
+that no such thing shall be reproduced in the body of a man, they 
+suppose that they confute us by citing the marks of the wounds which 
+we assert were found in the risen body of the Lord Christ. But of all 
+these, the most difficult question is, into whose body that flesh shall 
+return which has been eaten and assimilated by another man 
+constrained by hunger to use it so; for it has been converted into the 
+flesh of the man who used it as his nutriment, and it filled up those 
+losses of flesh which famine had produced. For the sake, then, of 
+ridiculing the resurrection, they ask, Shall this return to the man whose 
+flesh it first was, or to him whose flesh it afterwards became? And thus, 
+too, they seek to give promise to the human soul of alternations of true 
+misery and false happiness, in accordance with Plato’s theory; or, in 
+accordance with Porphyry’s, that, after many transmigrations into 
+different bodies, it ends its miseries, and never more returns to them, 
+not, however, by obtaining an immortal body, but by escaping from 
+every kind of body. 
+
+
+13. Whether abortions, if they are numbered among the dead, shall not also have a part in the 
+resurrection 
+
+
+To these objections, then, of our adversaries which I have thus 
+detailed, I will now reply, trusting that God will mercifully assist my 
+endeavours. That abortions, which, even supposing they were alive in 
+the womb, did also die there, shall rise again, I make bold neither to 
+affirm nor to deny, although I fail to see why, if they are not excluded 
+from the number of the dead, they should not attain to the resurrection 
+of the dead. For either all the dead shall not rise, and there will be to all 
+eternity some souls without bodies, though they once had them—only in 
+their mother’s womb, indeed; or, if all human souls shall receive again 
+the bodies which they had wherever they lived, and which they left 
+
+
+when they died, then I do not see how I can say that even those who 
+died in their mother’s womb shall have no resurrection. But whichever 
+of these opinions any one may adopt concerning them, we must at least 
+apply to them, if they rise again, all that we have to say of infants who 
+have been born. 
+
+
+14. Whether infants shall rise in that body which they would have had had they grown up 
+
+
+What, then, are we to say of infants, if not that they will not rise in 
+that diminutive body in which they died, but shall receive by the 
+marvellous and rapid operation of God that body which time by a slower 
+process would have given them? For in the Lord’s words, where He says, 
+“Not a hair of your head shall perish,”29 it is asserted that nothing which 
+was possessed shall be wanting; but it is not said that nothing which was 
+not possessed shall be given. To the dead infant there was wanting the 
+perfect stature of its body; for even the perfect infant lacks the perfection 
+of bodily size, being capable of further growth. This perfect stature is, in 
+a sense, so possessed by all that they are conceived and born with it— 
+that is, they have it potentially, though not yet in actual bulk; just as all 
+the members of the body are potentially in the seed, though, even after 
+the child is born, some of them, the teeth for example, may be wanting. 
+In this seminal principle of every substance, there seems to be, as it 
+were, the beginning of everything which does not yet exist, or rather 
+does not appear, but which in process of time will come into being, or 
+rather into sight. In this, therefore, the child who is to be tall or short is 
+already tall or short. And in the resurrection of the body, we need, for 
+the same reason, fear no bodily loss; for though all should be of equal 
+size, and reach gigantic proportions, lest the men who were largest here 
+should lose anything of their bulk and it should perish, in contradiction 
+to the words of Christ, who said that not a hair of their head should 
+perish, yet why should there lack the means by which that wonderful 
+Worker should make such additions, seeing that He is the Creator, who 
+Himself created all things out of nothing? 
+
+
+15. Whether the bodies of all the dead shall rise the same size as the Lord’s body 
+It is certain that Christ rose in the same bodily stature in which He 
+
+
+died, and that it is wrong to say that, when the general resurrection shall 
+have arrived, His body shall, for the sake of equalling the tallest, assume 
+
+
+proportions which it had not when He appeared to the disciples in the 
+figure with which they were familiar. But if we say that even the bodies 
+of taller men are to be reduced to the size of the Lord’s body, there will 
+be a great loss in many bodies, though He promised that not a hair of 
+their head should perish. It remains, therefore, that we conclude that 
+every man shall receive his own size which he had in youth, though he 
+died an old man, or which he would have had, supposing he died before 
+his prime. As for what the apostle said of the measure of the age of the 
+fulness of Christ, we must either understand him to refer to something 
+else, viz. to the fact that the measure of Christ will be completed when 
+all the members among the Christian communities are added to the 
+Head; or if we are to refer it to the resurrection of the body, the meaning 
+is that all shall rise neither beyond nor under youth, but in that vigour 
+and age to which we know that Christ had arrived. For even the world’s 
+wisest men have fixed the bloom of youth at about the age of thirty; and 
+when this period has been passed, the man begins to decline towards the 
+defective and duller period of old age. And therefore the apostle did not 
+speak of the measure of the body, nor of the measure of the stature, but 
+of “the measure of the age of the fulness of Christ.” 
+
+
+16. What is meant by the conforming of the saints to the image of the Son of God 
+
+
+Then, again, these words, “Predestinate to be conformed to the image 
+of the Son of God,”39 may be understood of the inner man. So in another 
+place He says to us, “Be not conformed to this world, but be ye 
+transformed in the renewing of your mind.”3! In so far, then, as we are 
+transformed so as not to be conformed to the world, we are conformed 
+to the Son of God. It may also be understood thus, that as He was 
+conformed to us by assuming mortality, we shall be conformed to Him 
+by immortality; and this indeed is connected with the resurrection of the 
+body. But if we are also taught in these words what form our bodies 
+shall rise in, as the measure we spoke of before, so also this conformity 
+is to be understood not of size, but of age. Accordingly all shall rise in 
+the stature they either had attained or would have attained had they 
+lived to their prime, although it will be no great disadvantage even if the 
+form of the body be infantine or aged, while no infirmity shall remain in 
+the mind nor in the body itself. So that even if any one contends that 
+every person will rise again in the same bodily form in which he died, 
+
+
+we need not spend much labour in disputing with him. 
+
+
+17. Whether the bodies of women shall retain their own sex in the resurrection 
+
+
+From the words, “Till we all come to a perfect man, to the measure of 
+the age of the fulness of Christ,”32 and from the words, “Conformed to 
+the image of the Son of God,”33 some conclude that women shall not rise 
+women, but that all shall be men, because God made man only of earth, 
+and woman of the man. For my part, they seem to be wiser who make 
+no doubt that both sexes shall rise. For there shall be no lust, which is 
+now the cause of confusion. For before they sinned, the man and the 
+woman were naked, and were not ashamed. From those bodies, then, 
+vice shall be withdrawn, while nature shall be preserved. And the sex of 
+woman is not a vice, but nature. It shall then indeed be superior to 
+carnal intercourse and child-bearing; nevertheless the female members 
+shall remain adapted not to the old uses, but to a new beauty, which, so 
+far from provoking lust, now extinct, shall excite praise to the wisdom 
+and clemency of God, who both made what was not and delivered from 
+corruption what He made. For at the beginning of the human race the 
+woman was made of a rib taken from the side of the man while he slept; 
+for it seemed fit that even then Christ and His Church should be 
+foreshadowed in this event. For that sleep of the man was the death of 
+Christ, whose side, as He hung lifeless upon the cross, was pierced with a 
+spear, and there flowed from it blood and water, and these we know to 
+be the sacraments by which the Church is “built up.” For Scripture used 
+this very word, not saying “He formed” or “framed,” but “built her up 
+into a woman;”34 whence also the apostle speaks of the edification of the 
+body of Christ,35 which is the Church. The woman, therefore, is a 
+creature of God even as the man; but by her creation from man unity is 
+commended; and the manner of her creation prefigured, as has been 
+said, Christ and the Church. He, then, who created both sexes will 
+restore both. Jesus Himself also, when asked by the Sadducees, who 
+denied the resurrection, which of the seven brothers should have to wife 
+the woman whom all in succession had taken to raise up seed to their 
+brother, as the law enjoined, says, “Ye do err, not knowing the 
+Scriptures nor the power of God.”36 And though it was a fit opportunity 
+for His saying, She about whom you make inquiries shall herself be a 
+man, and not a woman, He said nothing of the kind; but “In the 
+
+
+resurrection they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are as the 
+angels of God in heaven.”37 They shall be equal to the angels in 
+immortality and happiness, not in flesh, nor in resurrection, which the 
+angels did not need, because they could not die. The Lord then denied 
+that there would be in the resurrection, not women, but marriages; and 
+He uttered this denial in circumstances in which the question mooted 
+would have been more easily and speedily solved by denying that the 
+female sex would exist, if this had in truth been foreknown by Him. But, 
+indeed, He even affirmed that the sex should exist by saying, “They shall 
+not be given in marriage,” which can only apply to females; “Neither 
+shall they marry,” which applies to males. There shall therefore be those 
+who are in this world accustomed to marry and be given in marriage, 
+only they shall there make no such marriages. 
+
+
+18. Of the perfect Man, that is, Christ; and of His body, that is, the Church, which is His fulness 
+
+
+To understand what the apostle means when he says that we shall all 
+come to a perfect man, we must consider the connection of the whole 
+passage, which runs thus: “He that descended is the same also that 
+ascended up far above all heavens, that He might fill all things. And He 
+gave some, apostles; and some, prophets; and some, evangelists; and 
+some, pastors and teachers; for the perfecting of the saints, for the work 
+of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ: till we all come to 
+the unity of the faith and knowledge of the Son of God, to a perfect man, 
+to the measure of the age of the fulness of Christ: that we henceforth be 
+no more children, tossed and carried about with every wind of doctrine, 
+by the sleight of men, and cunning craftiness, whereby they lie in wait to 
+deceive; but, speaking the truth in love, may grow up in Him in all 
+things, which is the Head, even Christ: from whom the whole body fitly 
+joined together and compacted by that which every joint supplieth, 
+according to the effectual working in the measure of every part, maketh 
+increase of the body, unto the edifying of itself in love.”38 Behold what 
+the perfect man is—the head and the body, which is made up of all the 
+members, which in their own time shall be perfected. But new additions 
+are daily being made to this body while the Church is being built up, to 
+which it is said, “Ye are the body of Christ and His members;”39 and 
+again, “For His body’s sake,” he says, “which is the Church;”49 and 
+again, “We being many are one head, one body.”*! It is of the edification 
+
+
+of this body that it is here, too, said, “For the perfecting of the saints, for 
+the work of the ministry, for the edification of the body of Christ;” and 
+then that passage of which we are now speaking is added, “Till we all 
+come to the unity of the faith and knowledge of the Son of God, to a 
+perfect man, to the measure of the age of the fulness of Christ,” and so 
+on. And he shows of what body we are to understand this to be the 
+measure, when he says, “That we may grow up into Him in all things, 
+which is the Head, even Christ: from whom the whole body fitly joined 
+together and compacted by that which every joint supplieth, according 
+to the effectual working in the measure of every part.” As, therefore, 
+there is a measure of every part, so there is a measure of the fulness of 
+the whole body which is made up of all its parts, and it is of this 
+measure it is said, “To the measure of the age of the fulness of Christ.” 
+This fulness he spoke of also in the place where he says of Christ, “And 
+gave Him to be the Head over all things to the Church,42 which is His 
+body, the fulness of Him that filleth all in all.”43 But even if this should 
+be referred to the form in which each one shall rise, what should hinder 
+us from applying to the woman what is expressly said of the man, 
+understanding both sexes to be included under the general term “man?” 
+For certainly in the saying, “Blessed is he who feareth the Lord,”44 
+women also who fear the Lord are included. 
+
+
+19. That all bodily blemishes which mar human beauty in this life should be removed in the 
+resurrection, the natural substance of the body remaining, but the quality and quantity of it 
+
+
+being altered so as to produce beauty 
+
+
+What am I to say now about the hair and nails? Once it is understood 
+that no part of the body shall so perish as to produce deformity in the 
+body, it is at the same time understood that such things as would have 
+produced a deformity by their excessive proportions shall be added to 
+the total bulk of the body, not to parts in which the beauty of the 
+proportion would thus be marred. Just as if, after making a vessel of 
+clay, one wished to make it over again of the same clay, it would not be 
+necessary that the same portion of the clay which had formed the handle 
+should again form the new handle, or that what had formed the bottom 
+should again do so, but only that the whole clay should go to make up 
+the whole new vessel, and that no part of it should be left unused. 
+Wherefore, if the hair that has been cropped and the nails that have 
+
+
+been cut would cause a deformity were they to be restored to their 
+places, they shall not be restored; and yet no one will lose these parts at 
+the resurrection, for they shall be changed into the same flesh, their 
+substance being so altered as to preserve the proportion of the various 
+parts of the body. However, what our Lord said, “Not a hair of your head 
+shall perish,” might more suitably be interpreted of the number, and not 
+of the length of the hairs, as He elsewhere says, “The hairs of your head 
+are all numbered.”45 Nor would I say this because I suppose that any 
+part naturally belonging to the body can perish, but that whatever 
+deformity was in it, and served to exhibit the penal condition in which 
+we mortals are, should be restored in such a way that, while the 
+substance is entirely preserved, the deformity shall perish. For if even a 
+human workman, who has, for some reason, made a deformed statue, 
+can recast it and make it very beautiful, and this without suffering any 
+part of the substance, but only the deformity to be lost—if he can, for 
+example, remove some unbecoming or disproportionate part, not by 
+cutting off and separating this part from the whole, but by so breaking 
+down and mixing up the whole as to get rid of the blemish without 
+diminishing the quantity of his material—shall we not think as highly of 
+the almighty Worker? Shall He not be able to remove and abolish all 
+deformities of the human body, whether common ones or rare and 
+monstrous, which, though in keeping with this miserable life, are yet not 
+to be thought of in connection with that future blessedness; and shall He 
+not be able so to remove them that, while the natural but unseemly 
+blemishes are put an end to, the natural substance shall suffer no 
+diminution? 
+
+And consequently overgrown and emaciated persons need not fear 
+that they shall be in heaven of such a figure as they would not be even 
+in this world if they could help it. For all bodily beauty consists in the 
+proportion of the parts, together with a certain agreeableness of colour. 
+Where there is no proportion, the eye is offended, either because there is 
+something awanting, or too small, or too large. And thus there shall be 
+no deformity resulting from want of proportion in that state in which all 
+that is wrong is corrected, and all that is defective supplied from 
+resources the Creator wots of, and all that is excessive removed without 
+destroying the integrity of the substance. And as for the pleasant colour, 
+how conspicuous shall it be where “the just shall shine forth as the sun 
+
+
+in the kingdom of their Father!”46 This brightness we must rather 
+believe to have been concealed from the eyes of the disciples when 
+Christ rose, than to have been awanting. For weak human eyesight could 
+not bear it, and it was necessary that they should so look upon Him as to 
+be able to recognise Him. For this purpose also He allowed them to 
+touch the marks of His wounds, and also ate and drank—not because He 
+needed nourishment, but because He could take it if He wished. Now, 
+when an object, though present, is invisible to persons who see other 
+things which are present, as we say that that brightness was present but 
+invisible by those who saw other things, this is called in Greek paste; 
+and our Latin translators, for want of a better word, have rendered this 
+cecitas (blindness) in the book of Genesis. This blindness the men of 
+Sodom suffered when they sought the just Lot’s gate and could not find 
+it. But if it had been blindness, that is to say, if they could see nothing, 
+then they would not have asked for the gate by which they might enter 
+the house, but for guides who might lead them away. 
+
+But the love we bear to the blessed martyrs causes us, I know not how, 
+to desire to see in the heavenly kingdom the marks of the wounds which 
+they received for the name of Christ, and possibly we shall see them. For 
+this will not be a deformity, but a mark of honour, and will add lustre to 
+their appearance, and a spiritual, if not a bodily beauty. And yet we 
+need not believe that they to whom it has been said, “Not a hair of your 
+head shall perish,” shall, in the resurrection, want such of their members 
+as they have been deprived of in their martyrdom. But if it will be 
+seemly in that new kingdom to have some marks of these wounds still 
+visible in that immortal flesh, the places where they have been wounded 
+or mutilated shall retain the scars without any of the members being 
+lost. While, therefore, it is quite true that no blemishes which the body 
+has sustained shall appear in the resurrection, yet we are not to reckon 
+or name these marks of virtue blemishes. 
+
+
+20. That, in the resurrection, the substance of our bodies, however disintegrated, shall be entirely 
+
+
+reunited 
+
+
+Far be it from us to fear that the omnipotence of the Creator cannot, 
+for the resuscitation and reanimation of our bodies, recall all the 
+portions which have been consumed by beasts or fire, or have been 
+dissolved into dust or ashes, or have decomposed into water, or 
+
+
+evaporated into the air. Far from us be the thought, that anything which 
+escapes our observation in any most hidden recess of nature either 
+evades the knowledge or transcends the power of the Creator of all 
+things. Cicero, the great authority of our adversaries, wishing to define 
+God as accurately as possible, says, “God is a mind free and independent, 
+without materiality, perceiving and moving all things, and itself 
+endowed with eternal movement.”47 This he found in the systems of the 
+greatest philosophers. Let me ask, then, in their own language, how 
+anything can either lie hid from Him who perceives all things, or 
+irrevocably escape Him who moves all things? 
+
+This leads me to reply to that question which seems the most difficult 
+of all—To whom, in the resurrection, will belong the flesh of a dead man 
+which has become the flesh of a living man? For if some one, famishing 
+for want and pressed with hunger, use human flesh as food—an 
+extremity not unknown, as both ancient history and the unhappy 
+experience of our own days have taught us—can it be contended, with 
+any show of reason, that all the flesh eaten has been evacuated, and that 
+none of it has been assimilated to the substance of the eater, though the 
+very emaciation which existed before, and has now disappeared, 
+sufficiently indicates what large deficiencies have been filled up with 
+this food? But I have already made some remarks which will suffice for 
+the solution of this difficulty also. For all the flesh which hunger has 
+consumed finds its way into the air by evaporation, whence, as we have 
+said, God Almighty can recall it. That flesh, therefore, shall be restored 
+to the man in whom it first became human flesh. For it must be looked 
+upon as borrowed by the other person, and, like a pecuniary loan, must 
+be returned to the lender. His own flesh, however, which he lost by 
+famine, shall be restored to him by Him who can recover even what has 
+evaporated. And though it had been absolutely annihilated, so that no 
+part of its substance remained in any secret spot of nature, the Almighty 
+could restore it by such means as He saw fit. For this sentence, uttered 
+by the Truth, “Not a hair of your head shall perish,” forbids us to 
+suppose that, though no hair of a man’s head can perish, yet the large 
+portions of his flesh eaten and consumed by the famishing can perish. 
+
+From all that we have thus considered, and discussed with such poor 
+ability as we can command, we gather this conclusion, that in the 
+resurrection of the flesh the body shall be of that size which it either had 
+
+
+attained or should have attained in the flower of its youth, and shall 
+enjoy the beauty that arises from preserving symmetry and proportion in 
+all its members. And it is reasonable to suppose that, for the preservation 
+of this beauty, any part of the body’s substance, which, if placed in one 
+spot, would produce a deformity, shall be distributed through the whole 
+of it, so that neither any part, nor the symmetry of the whole, may be 
+lost, but only the general stature of the body somewhat increased by the 
+distribution in all the parts of that which, in one place, would have been 
+unsightly. Or if it is contended that each will rise with the same stature 
+as that of the body he died in, we shall not obstinately dispute this, 
+provided only there be no deformity, no infirmity, no languor, no 
+corruption—nothing of any kind which would ill become that kingdom 
+in which the children of the resurrection and of the promise shall be 
+equal to the angels of God, if not in body and age, at least in happiness. 
+
+
+21. Of the new spiritual body into which the flesh of the saints shall be transformed 
+
+
+Whatever, therefore, has been taken from the body, either during life 
+or after death, shall be restored to it, and, in conjunction with what has 
+remained in the grave, shall rise again, transformed from the oldness of 
+the animal body into the newness of the spiritual body, and clothed in 
+incorruption and immortality. But even though the body has been all 
+quite ground to powder by some severe accident, or by the ruthlessness 
+of enemies, and though it has been so diligently scattered to the winds, 
+or into the water, that there is no trace of it left, yet it shall not be 
+beyond the omnipotence of the Creator—no, not a hair of its head shall 
+perish. The flesh shall then be spiritual, and subject to the spirit, but still 
+flesh, not spirit, as the spirit itself, when subject to the flesh, was fleshly, 
+but still spirit and not flesh. And of this we have experimental proof in 
+the deformity of our penal condition. For those persons were carnal, not 
+in a fleshly, but in a spiritual way, to whom the apostle said, “I could not 
+speak to you as unto spiritual, but as unto carnal.”48 And a man is in this 
+life spiritual in such a way, that he is yet carnal with respect to his body, 
+and sees another law in his members warring against the law of his 
+mind; but even in his body he will be spiritual when the same flesh shall 
+have had that resurrection of which these words speak, “It is sown an 
+animal body, it shall rise a spiritual body.”49 But what this spiritual body 
+shall be, and how great its grace, I fear it were but rash to pronounce, 
+
+
+seeing that we have as yet no experience of it. Nevertheless, since it is fit 
+that the joyfulness of our hope should utter itself, and so show forth 
+God’s praise, and since it was from the profoundest sentiment of ardent 
+and holy love that the Psalmist cried, “O Lord, I have loved the beauty of 
+Thy house,”59 we may, with God’s help, speak of the gifts He lavishes on 
+men, good and bad alike, in this most wretched life, and may do our best 
+to conjecture the great glory of that state which we cannot worthily 
+speak of, because we have not yet experienced it. For I say nothing of 
+the time when God made man upright; I say nothing of the happy life of 
+“the man and his wife” in the fruitful garden, since it was so short that 
+none of their children experienced it; I speak only of this life which we 
+know, and in which we now are, from the temptations of which we 
+cannot escape so long as we are in it, no matter what progress we make, 
+for it is all temptation, and I ask, Who can describe the tokens of God’s 
+goodness that are extended to the human race even in this life? 
+
+
+22. Of the miseries and ills to which the human race is justly exposed through the first sin, and 
+
+
+from which none can be delivered save by Christ’s grace 
+
+
+That the whole human race has been condemned in its first origin, this 
+life itself, if life it is to be called, bears witness by the host of cruel ills 
+with which it is filled. Is not this proved by the profound and dreadful 
+ignorance which produces all the errors that enfold the children of 
+Adam, and from which no man can be delivered without toil, pain, and 
+fear? Is it not proved by his love of so many vain and hurtful things, 
+which produces gnawing cares, disquiet, griefs, fears, wild joys, quarrels, 
+law-suits, wars, treasons, angers, hatreds, deceit, flattery, fraud, theft, 
+robbery, perfidy, pride, ambition, envy, murders, parricides, cruelty, 
+ferocity, wickedness, luxury, insolence, impudence, shamelessness, 
+fornications, adulteries, incests, and the numberless uncleannesses and 
+unnatural acts of both sexes, which it is shameful so much as to mention; 
+sacrileges, heresies, blasphemies, perjuries, oppression of the innocent, 
+calumnies, plots, falsehoods, false witnessings, unrighteous judgments, 
+violent deeds, plunderings, and whatever similar wickedness has found 
+its way into the lives of men, though it cannot find its way into the 
+conception of pure minds? These are indeed the crimes of wicked men, 
+yet they spring from that root of error and misplaced love which is born 
+with every son of Adam. For who is there that has not observed with 
+
+
+what profound ignorance, manifesting itself even in infancy, and with 
+what superfluity of foolish desires, beginning to appear in boyhood, man 
+comes into this life, so that, were he left to live as he pleased, and to do 
+whatever he pleased, he would plunge into all, or certainly into many of 
+those crimes and iniquities which I mentioned, and could not mention? 
+
+But because God does not wholly desert those whom He condemns, 
+nor shuts up in His anger His tender mercies, the human race is 
+restrained by law and instruction, which keep guard against the 
+ignorance that besets us, and oppose the assaults of vice, but are 
+themselves full of labour and sorrow. For what mean those multifarious 
+threats which are used to restrain the folly of children? What mean 
+pedagogues, masters, the birch, the strap, the cane, the schooling which 
+Scripture says must be given a child, “beating him on the sides lest he 
+wax stubborn,”5! and it be hardly possible or not possible at all to 
+subdue him? Why all these punishments, save to overcome ignorance 
+and bridle evil desires—these evils with which we come into the world? 
+For why is it that we remember with difficulty, and without difficulty 
+forget? learn with difficulty, and without difficulty remain ignorant? are 
+diligent with difficulty, and without difficulty are indolent? Does not this 
+show what vitiated nature inclines and tends to by its own weight, and 
+what succour it needs if it is to be delivered? Inactivity, sloth, laziness, 
+negligence, are vices which shun labour, since labour, though useful, is 
+itself a punishment. 
+
+But, besides the punishments of childhood, without which there would 
+be no learning of what the parents wish—and the parents rarely wish 
+anything useful to be taught—who can describe, who can conceive the 
+number and severity of the punishments which afflict the human race— 
+pains which are not only the accompaniment of the wickedness of 
+godless men, but are a part of the human condition and the common 
+misery—what fear and what grief are caused by bereavement and 
+mourning, by losses and condemnations, by fraud and falsehood, by false 
+suspicions, and all the crimes and wicked deeds of other men? For at 
+their hands we suffer robbery, captivity, chains, imprisonment, exile, 
+torture, mutilation, loss of sight, the violation of chastity to satisfy the 
+lust of the oppressor, and many other dreadful evils. What numberless 
+casualties threaten our bodies from without—extremes of heat and cold, 
+storms, floods, inundations, lightning, thunder, hail, earthquakes, houses 
+
+
+falling; or from the stumbling, or shying, or vice of horses; from 
+countless poisons in fruits, water, air, animals; from the painful or even 
+deadly bites of wild animals; from the madness which a mad dog 
+communicates, so that even the animal which of all others is most gentle 
+and friendly to its own master, becomes an object of intenser fear than a 
+lion or dragon, and the man whom it has by chance infected with this 
+pestilential contagion becomes so rabid, that his parents, wife, children, 
+dread him more than any wild beast! What disasters are suffered by 
+those who travel by land or sea! What man can go out of his own house 
+without being exposed on all hands to unforeseen accidents? Returning 
+home sound in limb, he slips on his own door-step, breaks his leg, and 
+never recovers. What can seem safer than a man sitting in his chair? Eli 
+the priest fell from his, and broke his neck. How many accidents do 
+farmers, or rather all men, fear that the crops may suffer from the 
+weather, or the soil, or the ravages of destructive animals? Commonly 
+they feel safe when the crops are gathered and housed. Yet, to my 
+certain knowledge, sudden floods have driven the labourers away, and 
+swept the barns clean of the finest harvest. Is innocence a sufficient 
+protection against the various assaults of demons? That no man might 
+think so, even baptized infants, who are certainly unsurpassed in 
+innocence, are sometimes so tormented, that God, who permits it, 
+teaches us hereby to bewail the calamities of this life, and to desire the 
+felicity of the life to come. As to bodily diseases, they are so numerous 
+that they cannot all be contained even in medical books. And in very 
+many, or almost all of them, the cures and remedies are themselves 
+tortures, so that men are delivered from a pain that destroys by a cure 
+that pains. Has not the madness of thirst driven men to drink human 
+urine, and even their own? Has not hunger driven men to eat human 
+flesh, and that the flesh not of bodies found dead, but of bodies slain for 
+the purpose? Have not the fierce pangs of famine driven mothers to eat 
+their own children, incredibly savage as it seems? In fine, sleep itself, 
+which is justly called repose, how little of repose there sometimes is in it 
+when disturbed with dreams and visions; and with what terror is the 
+wretched mind overwhelmed by the appearances of things which are so 
+presented, and which, as it were, so stand out before the senses, that we 
+cannot distinguish them from realities! How wretchedly do false 
+appearances distract men in certain diseases! With what astonishing 
+
+
+variety of appearances are even healthy men sometimes deceived by evil 
+spirits, who produce these delusions for the sake of perplexing the senses 
+of their victims, if they cannot succeed in seducing them to their side! 
+From this hell upon earth there is no escape, save through the grace of 
+the Saviour Christ, our God and Lord. The very name Jesus shows this, 
+for it means Saviour; and He saves us especially from passing out of this 
+life into a more wretched and eternal state, which is rather a death than 
+a life. For in this life, though holy men and holy pursuits afford us great 
+consolations, yet the blessings which men crave are not invariably 
+bestowed upon them, lest religion should be cultivated for the sake of 
+these temporal advantages, while it ought rather to be cultivated for the 
+sake of that other life from which all evil is excluded. Therefore, also, 
+does grace aid good men in the midst of present calamities, so that they 
+are enabled to endure them with a constancy proportioned to their faith. 
+The world’s sages affirm that philosophy contributes something to this— 
+that philosophy which, according to Cicero, the gods have bestowed in 
+its purity only on a few men. They have never given, he says, nor can 
+ever give, a greater gift to men. So that even those against whom we are 
+disputing have been compelled to acknowledge, in some fashion, that 
+the grace of God is necessary for the acquisition, not, indeed, of any 
+philosophy, but of the true philosophy. And if the true philosophy—this 
+sole support against the miseries of this life—has been given by Heaven 
+only to a few, it sufficiently appears from this that the human race has 
+been condemned to pay this penalty of wretchedness. And as, according 
+to their acknowledgment, no greater gift has been bestowed by God, so 
+it must be believed that it could be given only by that God whom they 
+themselves recognise as greater than all the gods they worship. 
+
+
+23. Of the miseries of this life which attach peculiarly to the toil of good men, irrespective of 
+
+
+those which are common to the good and bad 
+
+
+But, irrespective of the miseries which in this life are common to the 
+good and bad, the righteous undergo labours peculiar to themselves, in 
+so far as they make war upon their vices, and are involved in the 
+temptations and perils of such a contest. For though sometimes more 
+violent and at other times slacker, yet without intermission does the 
+flesh lust against the spirit and the spirit against the flesh, so that we 
+cannot do the things we would,°2 and extirpate all lust, but can only 
+
+
+refuse consent to it, as God gives us ability, and so keep it under, 
+vigilantly keeping watch lest a semblance of truth deceive us, lest a 
+subtle discourse blind us, lest error involve us in darkness, lest we 
+should take good for evil or evil for good, lest fear should hinder us from 
+doing what we ought, or desire precipitate us into doing what we ought 
+not, lest the sun go down upon our wrath, lest hatred provoke us to 
+render evil for evil, lest unseemly or immoderate grief consume us, lest 
+an ungrateful disposition make us slow to recognise benefits received, 
+lest calumnies fret our conscience, lest rash suspicion on our part 
+deceive us regarding a friend, or false suspicion of us on the part of 
+others give us too much uneasiness, lest sin reign in our mortal body to 
+obey its desires, lest our members be used as the instruments of 
+unrighteousness, lest the eye follow lust, lest thirst for revenge carry us 
+away, lest sight or thought dwell too long on some evil thing which 
+gives us pleasure, lest wicked or indecent language be willingly listened 
+to, lest we do what is pleasant but unlawful, and lest in this warfare, 
+filled so abundantly with toil and peril, we either hope to secure victory 
+by our own strength, or attribute it when secured to our own strength, 
+and not to His grace of whom the apostle says, “Thanks be unto God, 
+who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ;”53 and in 
+another place he says, “In all these things we are more than conquerors 
+through Him that loved us.”54 But yet we are to know this, that however 
+valorously we resist our vices, and however successful we are in 
+overcoming them, yet as long as we are in this body we have always 
+reason to say to God, “Forgive us our debts.”55° But in that kingdom 
+where we shall dwell for ever, clothed in immortal bodies, we shall no 
+longer have either conflicts or debts—as indeed we should not have had 
+at any time or in any condition, had our nature continued upright as it 
+was created. Consequently even this our conflict, in which we are 
+exposed to peril, and from which we hope to be delivered by a final 
+victory, belongs to the ills of this life, which is proved by the witness of 
+so many grave evils to be a life under condemnation. 
+
+
+24. Of the blessings with which the Creator has filled this life, obnoxious though it be to the 
+
+
+curse 
+
+
+But we must now contemplate the rich and countless blessings with 
+which the goodness of God, who cares for all He has created, has filled 
+
+
+this very misery of the human race, which reflects His retributive justice. 
+That first blessing which He pronounced before the fall, when He said, 
+“Increase, and multiply, and replenish the earth,”5° He did not inhibit 
+after man had sinned, but the fecundity originally bestowed remained in 
+the condemned stock; and the vice of sin, which has involved us in the 
+necessity of dying, has yet not deprived us of that wonderful power of 
+seed, or rather of that still more marvellous power by which seed is 
+produced, and which seems to be as it were inwrought and inwoven in 
+the human body. But in this river, as I may call it, or torrent of the 
+human race, both elements are carried along together—both the evil 
+which is derived from him who begets, and the good which is bestowed 
+by Him who creates us. In the original evil there are two things, sin and 
+punishment; in the original good, there are two other things, 
+propagation and conformation. But of the evils, of which the one, sin, 
+arose from our audacity, and the other, punishment, from God’s 
+judgment, we have already said as much as suits our present purpose. I 
+mean now to speak of the blessings which God has conferred or still 
+confers upon our nature, vitiated and condemned as it is. For in 
+condemning it He did not withdraw all that He had given it, else it had 
+been annihilated; neither did He, in penally subjecting it to the devil, 
+remove it beyond His own power; for not even the devil himself is 
+outside of God’s government, since the devil’s nature subsists only by the 
+supreme Creator, who gives being to all that in any form exists. 
+
+Of these two blessings, then, which we have said flow from God’s 
+goodness, as from a fountain, towards our nature, vitiated by sin and 
+condemned to punishment, the one, propagation, was conferred by God’s 
+benediction when He made those first works, from which He rested on, 
+the seventh day. But the other, conformation, is conferred in that work 
+of His wherein “He worketh hitherto.”57 For were He to withdraw His 
+efficacious power from things, they should neither be able to go on and 
+complete the periods assigned to their measured movements, nor should 
+they even continue in possession of that nature they were created in. 
+God, then, so created man that He gave him what we may call fertility, 
+whereby he might propagate other men, giving them a congenital 
+capacity to propagate their kind, but not imposing on them any necessity 
+to do so. This capacity God withdraws at pleasure from individuals, 
+making them barren; but from the whole race He has not withdrawn the 
+
+
+blessing of propagation once conferred. But though not withdrawn on 
+account of sin, this power of propagation is not what it would have been 
+had there been no sin. For since “man placed in honour fell, he has 
+become like the beasts,”58 and generates as they do, though the little 
+spark of reason, which was the image of God in him, has not been quite 
+quenched. But if conformation were not added to propagation, there 
+would be no reproduction of one’s kind. For even though there were no 
+such thing as copulation, and God wished to fill the earth with human 
+inhabitants, He might create all these as He created one without the help 
+of human generation. And, indeed, even as it is, those who copulate can 
+generate nothing save by the creative energy of God. As, therefore, in 
+respect of that spiritual growth whereby a man is formed to piety and 
+righteousness, the apostle says, “Neither is he that planteth anything, 
+neither he that watereth, but God that giveth the increase,”59 so also it 
+must be said that it is not he that generates that is anything, but God 
+that giveth the essential form; that it is not the mother who carries and 
+nurses the fruit of her womb that is anything, but God that giveth the 
+increase. For He alone, by that energy wherewith “He worketh hitherto,” 
+causes the seed to develope, and to evolve from certain secret and 
+invisible folds into the visible forms of beauty which we see. He alone, 
+coupling and connecting in some wonderful fashion the spiritual and 
+corporeal natures, the one to command, the other to obey, makes a 
+living being. And this work of His is so great and wonderful, that not 
+only man, who is a rational animal, and consequently more excellent 
+than all other animals of the earth, but even the most diminutive insect, 
+cannot be considered attentively without astonishment and without 
+praising the Creator. 
+
+It is He, then, who has given to the human soul a mind, in which 
+reason and understanding lie as it were asleep during infancy, and as if 
+they were not, destined, however, to be awakened and exercised as years 
+increase, so as to become capable of knowledge and of receiving 
+instruction tion, fit to understand what is true and to love what is good. 
+It is by this capacity the soul drinks in wisdom, and becomes endowed 
+with those virtues by which, in prudence, fortitude, temperance, and 
+righteousness, it makes war upon error and the other inborn vices, and 
+conquers them by fixing its desires upon no other object than the 
+supreme and unchangeable Good. And even though this be not 
+
+
+uniformly the result, yet who can competently utter or even conceive the 
+grandeur of this work of the Almighty, and the unspeakable boon He has 
+conferred upon our rational nature, by giving us even the capacity of 
+such attainment? For over and above those arts which are called virtues, 
+and which teach us how we may spend our life well, and attain to 
+endless happiness—arts which are given to the children of the promise 
+and the kingdom by the sole grace of God which is in Christ—has not 
+the genius of man invented and applied countless astonishing arts, partly 
+the result of necessity, partly the result of exuberant invention, so that 
+this vigour of mind, which is so active in the discovery not merely of 
+superfluous but even of dangerous and destructive things, betokens an 
+inexhaustible wealth in the nature which can invent, learn, or employ 
+such arts? What wonderful—one might say stupefying—advances has 
+human industry made in the arts of weaving and building, of agriculture 
+and navigation! With what endless variety are designs in pottery, 
+painting, and sculpture produced, and with what skill executed! What 
+wonderful spectacles are exhibited in the theatres, which those who 
+have not seen them cannot credit! How skilful the contrivances for 
+catching, killing, or taming wild beasts! And for the injury of men, also, 
+how many kinds of poisons, weapons, engines of destruction, have been 
+invented, while for the preservation or restoration of health the 
+appliances and remedies are infinite! To provoke appetite and please the 
+palate, what a variety of seasonings have been concocted! To express 
+and gain entrance for thoughts, what a multitude and variety of signs 
+there are, among which speaking and writing hold the first place! what 
+ornaments has eloquence at command to delight the mind! what wealth 
+of song is there to captivate the ear! how many musical instruments and 
+strains of harmony have been devised! What skill has been attained in 
+measures and numbers! with what sagacity have the movements and 
+connections of the stars been discovered! Who could tell the thought that 
+has been spent upon nature, even though, despairing of recounting it in 
+detail, he endeavoured only to give a general view of it? In fine, even 
+the defence of errors and misapprehensions, which has illustrated the 
+genius of heretics and philosophers, cannot be sufficiently declared. For 
+at present it is the nature of the human mind which adorns this mortal 
+life which we are extolling, and not the faith and the way of truth which 
+lead to immortality. And since this great nature has certainly been 
+
+
+created by the true and supreme God, who administers all things He has 
+made with absolute power and justice, it could never have fallen into 
+these miseries, nor have gone out of them to miseries eternal—saving 
+only those who are redeemed—had not an exceeding great sin been 
+found in the first man from whom the rest have sprung. 
+
+Moreover, even in the body, though it dies like that of the beasts, and 
+is in many ways weaker than theirs, what goodness of God, what 
+providence of the great Creator, is apparent! The organs of sense and the 
+rest of the members, are not they so placed, the appearance, and form, 
+and stature of the body as a whole, is it not so fashioned, as to indicate 
+that it was made for the service of a reasonable soul? Man has not been 
+created stooping towards the earth, like the irrational animals; but his 
+bodily form, erect and looking heavenwards, admonishes him to mind 
+the things that are above. Then the marvellous nimbleness which has 
+been given to the tongue and the hands, fitting them to speak, and write, 
+and execute so many duties, and practise so many arts, does it not prove 
+the excellence of the soul for which such an assistant was provided? And 
+even apart from its adaptation to the work required of it, there is such a 
+symmetry in its various parts, and so beautiful a proportion maintained, 
+that one is at a loss to decide whether, in creating the body, greater 
+regard was paid to utility or to beauty. Assuredly no part of the body has 
+been created for the sake of utility which does not also contribute 
+something to its beauty. And this would be all the more apparent, if we 
+knew more precisely how all its parts are connected and adapted to one 
+another, and were not limited in our observations to what appears on 
+the surface; for as to what is covered up and hidden from our view, the 
+intricate web of veins and nerves, the vital parts of all that lies under the 
+skin, no one can discover it. For although, with a cruel zeal for science, 
+some medical men, who are called anatomists, have dissected the bodies 
+of the dead, and sometimes even of sick persons who died under their 
+knives, and have inhumanly pried into the secrets of the human body to 
+learn the nature of the disease and its exact seat, and how it might be 
+cured, yet those relations of which I speak, and which form the 
+concord,®° or, as the Greeks call it, “harmony,” of the whole body 
+outside and in, as of some instrument, no one has been able to discover, 
+because no one has been audacious enough to seek for them. But if these 
+could be known, then even the inward parts, which seem to have no 
+
+
+beauty, would so delight us with their exquisite fitness, as to afford a 
+profounder satisfaction to the mind—and the eyes are but its ministers— 
+than the obvious beauty which gratifies the eye. There are some things, 
+too, which have such a place in the body, that they obviously serve no 
+useful purpose, but are solely for beauty, as e.g. the teats on a man’s 
+breast, or the beard on his face; for that this is for ornament, and not for 
+protection, is proved by the bare faces of women, who ought rather, as 
+the weaker sex, to enjoy such a defence. If, therefore, of all those 
+members which are exposed to our view, there is certainly not one in 
+which beauty is sacrificed to utility, while there are some which serve no 
+purpose but only beauty, I think it can readily be concluded that in the 
+creation of the human body comeliness was more regarded than 
+necessity. In truth, necessity is a transitory thing; and the time is coming 
+when we shall enjoy one another’s beauty without any lust—a condition 
+which will specially redound to the praise of the Creator, who, as it is 
+said in the psalm, has “put on praise and comeliness.”61 
+
+How can I tell of the rest of creation, with all its beauty and utility, 
+which the divine goodness has given to man to please his eye and serve 
+his purposes, condemned though he is, and hurled into these labours and 
+miseries? Shall I speak of the manifold and various loveliness of sky, and 
+earth, and sea; of the plentiful supply and wonderful qualities of the 
+light; of sun, moon, and stars; of the shade of trees; of the colours and 
+perfume of flowers; of the multitude of birds, all differing in plumage 
+and in song; of the variety of animals, of which the smallest in size are 
+often the most wonderful—the works of ants and bees astonishing us 
+more than the huge bodies of whales? Shall I speak of the sea, which 
+itself is so grand a spectacle, when it arrays itself as it were in vestures 
+of various colours, now running through every shade of green, and again 
+becoming purple or blue? Is it not delightful to look at it in storm, and 
+experience the soothing complacency which it inspires, by suggesting 
+that we ourselves are not tossed and shipwrecked?62 What shall I say of 
+the numberless kinds of food to alleviate hunger, and the variety of 
+seasonings to stimulate appetite which are scattered everywhere by 
+nature, and for which we are not indebted to the art of cookery? How 
+many natural appliances are there for preserving and restoring health! 
+How grateful is the alternation of day and night! how pleasant the 
+breezes that cool the air! how abundant the supply of clothing furnished 
+
+
+us by trees and animals! Who can enumerate all the blessings we enjoy? 
+If I were to attempt to detail and unfold only these few which I have 
+indicated in the mass, such an enumeration would fill a volume. And all 
+these are but the solace of the wretched and condemned, not the 
+rewards of the blessed. What then shall these rewards be, if such be the 
+blessings of a condemned state? What will He give to those whom He 
+has predestined to life, who has given such things even to those whom 
+He has predestined to death? What blessings will He in the blessed life 
+shower upon those for whom, even in this state of misery, He has been 
+willing that His only-begotten Son should endure such sufferings even to 
+death? Thus the apostle reasons concerning those who are predestined to 
+that kingdom: “He that spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up 
+for us all, how shall He not with Him also give us all things?”63 When 
+this promise is fulfilled, what shall we be? What blessings shall we 
+receive in that kingdom, since already we have received as the pledge of 
+them Christ’s dying? In what condition shall the spirit of man be, when 
+it has no longer any vice at all; when it neither yields to any, nor is in 
+bondage to any, nor has to make war against any, but is perfected, and 
+enjoys undisturbed peace with itself? Shall it not then know all things 
+with certainty, and without any labour or error, when unhindered and 
+joyfully it drinks the wisdom of God at the fountainhead? What shall the 
+body be, when it is in every respect subject to the spirit, from which it 
+shall draw a life so sufficient, as to stand in need of no other nutriment? 
+For it shall no longer be animal, but spiritual, having indeed the 
+substance of flesh, but without any fleshly corruption. 
+
+
+25. Of the obstinacy of those individuals who impugn the resurrection of the body, though, as 
+
+
+was predicted, the whole world believes it 
+
+
+The foremost of the philosophers agree with us about the spiritual 
+felicity enjoyed by the blessed in the life to come; it is only the 
+resurrection of the flesh they call in question, and with all their might 
+deny. But the mass of men, learned and unlearned, the world’s wise men 
+and its fools, have believed, and have left in meagre isolation the 
+unbelievers, and have turned to Christ, who in His own resurrection 
+demonstrated the reality of that which seems to our adversaries absurd. 
+For the world has believed this which God predicted, as it was also 
+predicted that the world would believe—a prediction not due to the 
+
+
+sorceries of Peter,* since it was uttered so long before. He who has 
+predicted these things, as I have already said, and am not ashamed to 
+repeat, is the God before whom all other divinities tremble, as Porphyry 
+himself owns, and seeks to prove, by testimonies from the oracles of 
+these gods, and goes so far as to call Him God the Father and King. Far 
+be it from us to interpret these predictions as they do who have not 
+believed, along with the whole world, in that which it was predicted the 
+world would believe in. For why should we not rather understand them 
+as the world does, whose belief was predicted, and leave that handful of 
+unbelievers to their idle talk and obstinate and solitary infidelity? For if 
+they maintain that they interpret them differently only to avoid charging 
+Scripture with folly, and so doing an injury to that God to whom they 
+bear so notable a testimony, is it not a much greater injury they do Him 
+when they say that His predictions must be understood otherwise than 
+the world believed them, though He Himself praised, promised, 
+accomplished this belief on the world’s part? And why cannot He cause 
+the body to rise again, and live for ever? or is it not to be believed that 
+He will do this, because it is an undesirable thing, and unworthy of God? 
+Of His omnipotence, which effects so many great miracles, we have 
+already said enough. If they wish to know what the Almighty cannot do, 
+I shall tell them He cannot lie. Let us therefore believe what He can do, 
+by refusing to believe what He cannot do. Refusing to believe that He 
+can lie, let them believe that He will do what He has promised to do; 
+and let them believe it as the world has believed it, whose faith He 
+predicted, whose faith He praised, whose faith He promised, whose faith 
+He now points to. But how do they prove that the resurrection is an 
+undesirable thing? There shall then be no corruption, which is the only 
+evil thing about the body. I have already said enough about the order of 
+the elements, and the other fanciful objections men raise; and in the 
+thirteenth book I have, in my own judgment, sufficiently illustrated the 
+facility of movement which the incorruptible body shall enjoy, judging 
+from the ease and vigour we experience even now, when the body is in 
+good health. Those who have either not read the former books, or wish 
+to refresh their memory, may read them for themselves. 
+
+
+26. That the opinion of Porphyry, that the soul, in order to be blessed, must be separated from 
+every kind of body, is demolished by Plato, who says that the supreme God promised the gods 
+
+
+that they should never be ousted from their bodies 
+
+
+But, say they, Porphyry tells us that the soul, in order to be blessed, 
+must escape connection with every kind of body. It does not avail, 
+therefore, to say that the future body shall be incorruptible, if the soul 
+cannot be blessed till delivered from every kind of body. But in the book 
+above mentioned I have already sufficiently discussed this. This one 
+thing only will I repeat—let Plato, their master, correct his writings, and 
+say that their gods, in order to be blessed, must quit their bodies, or, in 
+other words, die; for he said that they were shut up in celestial bodies, 
+and that, nevertheless, the God who made them promised them 
+immortality—that is to say, an eternal tenure of these same bodies, such 
+as was not provided for them naturally, but only by the further 
+intervention of His will, that thus they might be assured of felicity. In 
+this he obviously overturns their assertion that the resurrection of the 
+body cannot be believed because it is impossible; for, according to him, 
+when the uncreated God promised immortality to the created gods, He 
+expressly said that He would do what was impossible. For Plato tells us 
+that He said, “As ye have had a beginning, so you cannot be immortal 
+and incorruptible; yet ye shall not decay, nor shall any fate destroy you 
+or prove stronger than my will, which more effectually binds you to 
+immortality than the bond of your nature keeps you from it.” If they 
+who hear these words have, we do not say understanding, but ears, they 
+cannot doubt that Plato believed that God promised to the gods He had 
+made that He would effect an impossibility. For He who says, “Ye cannot 
+be immortal, but by my will ye shall be immortal,” what else does He 
+say than this, “I shall make you what ye cannot be?” The body, 
+therefore, shall be raised incorruptible, immortal, spiritual, by Him, 
+who, according to Plato, has promised to do that which is impossible. 
+Why then do they still exclaim that this which God has promised, which 
+the world has believed on God’s promise as was predicted, is an 
+impossibility? For what we say is, that the God who, even according to 
+Plato, does impossible things, will do this. It is not, then, necessary to 
+the blessedness of the soul that it be detached from a body of any kind 
+whatever, but that it receive an incorruptible body. And in what 
+incorruptible body will they more suitably rejoice than in that in which 
+they groaned when it was corruptible? For thus they shall not feel that 
+
+
+dire craving which Virgil, in imitation of Plato, has ascribed to them 
+when he says that they wish to return again to their bodies.°5 They shall 
+not, I say, feel this desire to return to their bodies, since, they shall have 
+those bodies to which a return was desired, and shall, indeed, be in such 
+thorough possession of them, that they shall never lose them even for 
+the briefest moment, nor ever lay them down in death. 
+
+
+27. Of the apparently conflicting opinions of Plato and Porphyry, which would have conducted 
+them both to the truth if they could have yielded to one another 
+
+
+Statements were made by Plato and Porphyry singly, which if they 
+could have seen their way to hold in common, they might possibly have 
+become Christians. Plato said that souls could not exist eternally without 
+bodies; for it was on this account, he said, that the fouls even of wise 
+men must some time or other return to their bodies. Porphyry, again, 
+said that the purified soul, when it has returned to the Father, shall 
+never return to the ills of this world. Consequently, if Plato had 
+communicated to Porphyry that which he saw to be true, that souls, 
+though perfectly purified, and belonging to the wise and righteous, must 
+return to human bodies; and if Porphyry, again, had imparted to Plato 
+the truth which he saw, that holy souls shall never return to the miseries 
+of a corruptible body, so that they should not have each held only his 
+own opinion, but should both have held both truths, I think they would 
+have seen that it follows that the souls return to their bodies, and also 
+that these bodies shall be such as to afford them a blessed and immortal 
+life. For, according to Plato, even holy souls shall return to the body; 
+according to Porphyry, holy souls shall not return to the ills of this 
+world. Let Porphyry then say with Plato, they shall return to the body; 
+let Plato say with Porphyry, they shall not return to their old misery: and 
+they will agree that they return to bodies in which they shall suffer no 
+more. And this is nothing else than what God has promised—that He 
+will give eternal felicity to souls joined to their own bodies. For this, I 
+presume, both of them would readily concede, that if the souls of the 
+saints are to be reunited to bodies, it shall be to their own bodies, in 
+which they have endured the miseries of this life, and in which, to 
+escape these miseries, they served God with piety and fidelity. 
+
+
+28. What Plato or Labeo, or even Varro, might have contributed to the true faith of the 
+
+
+resurrection, if they had adopted one another’s opinions into one scheme 
+
+
+Some Christians, who have a liking for Plato on account of his 
+magnificent style and the truths which he now and then uttered, say that 
+he even held an opinion similar to our own regarding the resurrection of 
+the dead. Cicero, however, alluding to this in his Republic, asserts that 
+Plato meant it rather as a playful fancy than as a reality; for he 
+introduces a man®® who had come to life again, and gave a narrative of 
+his experience in corroboration of the doctrines of Plato. Labeo, too, says 
+that two men died on one day, and met at a cross-road, and that, being 
+afterwards ordered to return to their bodies, they agreed to be friends 
+for life, and were so till they died again. But the resurrection which 
+these writers instance resembles that of those persons whom we have 
+ourselves known to rise again, and who came back indeed to this life, 
+but not so as never to die again. Marcus Varro, however, in his work On 
+the Origin of the Roman People, records something more remarkable; I 
+think his own words should be given. “Certain astrologers,” he says, 
+“have written that men are destined to a new birth, which the Greeks 
+call palingenesy. This will take place after four hundred and forty years 
+have elapsed; and then the same soul and the same body, which were 
+formerly united in the person, shall again be reunited.” This Varro, 
+indeed, or those nameless astrologers—for he does not give us the names 
+of the men whose statement he cites—have affirmed what is indeed not 
+altogether true; for once the souls have returned to the bodies they wore, 
+they shall never afterwards leave them. Yet what they say upsets and 
+demolishes much of that idle talk of our adversaries about the 
+impossibility of the resurrection. For those who have been or are of this 
+opinion, have not thought it possible that bodies which have dissolved 
+into air, or dust, or ashes, or water, or into the bodies of the beasts or 
+even of the men that fed on them, should be restored again to that which 
+they formerly were. And therefore, if Plato and Porphyry, or rather, if 
+their disciples now living, agree with us that holy souls shall return to 
+the body, as Plato says, and that, nevertheless, they shall not return to 
+misery, as Porphyry maintains—if they accept the consequence of these 
+two propositions which is taught by the Christian faith, that they shall 
+receive bodies in which they may live eternally without suffering any 
+misery—let them also adopt from Varro the opinion that they shall 
+return to the same bodies as they were formerly in, and thus the whole 
+question of the eternal resurrection of the body shall be resolved out of 
+
+
+their own mouths. 
+
+
+29. Of the beatific vision 
+
+
+And now let us consider, with such ability as God may vouchsafe, how 
+the saints shall be employed when they are clothed in immortal and 
+spiritual bodies, and when the flesh shall live no longer in a fleshly but a 
+spiritual fashion. And indeed, to tell the truth, I am at a loss to 
+understand the nature of that employment, or, shall I rather say, repose 
+and ease, for it has never come within the range of my bodily senses. 
+And if I should speak of my mind or understanding, what is our 
+understanding in comparison of its excellence? For then shall be that 
+“peace of God which,” as the apostle says, “passeth all understanding”®7 
+—that is to say, all human, and perhaps all angelic understanding, but 
+certainly not the divine. That it passeth ours there is no doubt; but if it 
+passeth that of the angels—and he who says “all understanding” seems 
+to make no exception in their favour—then we must understand him to 
+mean that neither we nor the angels can understand, as God 
+understands, the peace which God Himself enjoys. Doubtless this passeth 
+all understanding but His own. But as we shall one day be made to 
+participate, according to our slender capacity, in His peace, both in 
+ourselves, and with our neighbour, and with God our chief good, in this 
+respect the angels understand the peace of God in their own measure, 
+and men too, though now far behind them, whatever spiritual advance 
+they have made. For we must remember how great a man he was who 
+said, “We know in part, and we prophesy in part, until that which is 
+perfect is come;”68 and “Now we see through a glass, darkly; but then 
+face to face.”©9 Such also is now the vision of the holy angels, who are 
+also called our angels, because we, being rescued out of the power of 
+darkness, and receiving the earnest of the Spirit, are translated into the 
+kingdom of Christ, and already begin to belong to those angels with 
+whom we shall enjoy that holy and most delightful city of God of which 
+we have now written so much. Thus, then, the angels of God are our 
+angels, as Christ is God’s and also ours. They are God’s, because they 
+have not abandoned Him; they are ours, because we are their fellow- 
+citizens. The Lord Jesus also said, “See that ye despise not one of these 
+little ones: for I say unto you, That in heaven their angels do always see 
+the face of my Father which is in heaven.”70 As, then, they see, so shall 
+
+
+we also see; but not yet do we thus see. Wherefore the apostle uses the 
+words cited a little ago, “Now we see through a glass, darkly; but then 
+face to face.” This vision is reserved as the reward of our faith; and of it 
+the Apostle John also says, “When He shall appear, we shall be like Him, 
+for we shall see Him as He is.”7! By “the face” of God we are to 
+understand His manifestation, and not a part of the body similar to that 
+which in our bodies we call by that name. 
+
+And so, when I am asked how the saints shall be employed in that 
+spiritual body, I do not say what I see, but I say what I believe, 
+according to that which I read in the psalm, “I believed, therefore have I 
+spoken.”72 I say, then, they shall in the body see God; but whether they 
+shall see Him by means of the body, as now we see the sun, moon, stars, 
+sea, earth, and all that is in it, that is a difficult question. For it is hard to 
+say that the saints shall then have such bodies that they shall not be able 
+to shut and open their eyes as they please; while it is harder still to say 
+that every one who shuts his eyes shall lose the vision of God. For if the 
+prophet Elisha, though at a distance, saw his servant Gehazi, who 
+thought that his wickedness would escape his master’s observation and 
+accepted gifts from Naaman the Syrian, whom the prophet had cleansed 
+from his foul leprosy, how much more shall the saints in the spiritual 
+body see all things, not only though their eyes be shut, but though they 
+themselves be at a great distance? For then shall be “that which is 
+perfect,” of which the apostle says, “We know in part, and we prophesy 
+in part; but when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in 
+part shall be done away.” Then, that he may illustrate as well as 
+possible, by a simile, how superior the future life is to the life now lived, 
+not only by ordinary men, but even by the foremost of the saints, he 
+says, “When I was a child, I understood as a child, I spake as a child, I 
+thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things. 
+Now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in 
+part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.”73 If, then, even in 
+this life, in which the prophetic power of remarkable men is no more 
+worthy to be compared to the vision of the future life than childhood is 
+to manhood, Elisha, though distant from his servant, saw him accepting 
+gifts, shall we say that when that which is perfect is come, and the 
+corruptible body no longer oppresses the soul, but is incorruptible and 
+offers no impediment to it, the saints shall need bodily eyes to see, 
+
+
+though Elisha had no need of them to see his servant? For, following the 
+Septuagint version, these are the prophet’s words: “Did not my heart go 
+with thee, when the man came out of his chariot to meet thee, and thou 
+tookedst his gifts?”74 Or, as the presbyter Jerome rendered it from the 
+Hebrew, “Was not my heart present when the man turned from his 
+chariot to meet thee?”The prophet said that he saw this with his heart, 
+miraculously aided by God, as no one can doubt. But how much more 
+abundantly shall the saints enjoy this gift when God shall be all in all? 
+Nevertheless the bodily eyes also shall have their office and their place, 
+and shall be used by the spirit through the spiritual body. For the 
+prophet did not forego the use of his eyes for seeing what was before 
+them, though he did not need them to see his absent servant, and though 
+he could have seen these present objects in spirit, and with his eyes shut, 
+as he saw things far distant in a place where he himself was not. Far be 
+it, then, from us to say that in the life to come the saints shall not see 
+God when their eyes are shut, since they shall always see Him with the 
+spirit. 
+
+But the question arises, whether, when their eyes are open, they shall 
+see Him with the bodily eye? If the eyes of the spiritual body have no 
+more power than the eyes which we now possess, manifestly God cannot 
+be seen with them. They must be of a very different power if they can 
+look upon that incorporeal nature which is not contained in any place, 
+but is all in every place. For though we say that God is in heaven and on 
+earth, as He Himself says by the prophet, “I fill heaven and earth,”75 we 
+do not mean that there is one part of God in heaven and another part on 
+earth; but He is all in heaven and all on earth, not at alternate intervals 
+of time, but both at once, as no bodily nature can be. The eye, then, 
+shall have a vastly superior power—the power not of keen sight, such as 
+is ascribed to serpents or eagles, for however keenly these animals see, 
+they can discern nothing but bodily substances—but the power of seeing 
+things incorporeal. Possibly it was this great power of vision which was 
+temporarily communicated to the eyes of the holy Job while yet in this 
+mortal body, when he says to God, “I have heard of Thee by the hearing 
+of the ear; but now mine eye seeth Thee: wherefore I abhor myself, and 
+melt away, and count myself dust and ashes;”’6 although there is no 
+reason why we should not understand this of the eye of the heart, of 
+which the apostle says, “Having the eyes of your heart illuminated.”77 
+
+
+But that God shall be seen with these eyes no Christian doubts who 
+believingly accepts what our God and Master says, “Blessed are the pure 
+in heart: for they shall see God.”78 But whether in the future life God 
+shall also be seen with the bodily eye, this is now our question. 
+
+The expression of Scripture, “And all flesh shall see the salvation of 
+God,”79 may without difficulty be understood as if it were said, “And 
+every man shall see the Christ of God.” And He certainly was seen in the 
+body, and shall be seen in the body when He judges quick and dead. And 
+that Christ is the salvation of God, many other passages of Scripture 
+witness, but especially the words of the venerable Simeon, who, when he 
+had received into his hands the infant Christ, said, “Now lettest Thou 
+Thy servant depart in peace, according to Thy word: for mine eyes have 
+seen Thy salvation.”8° As for the words of the above-mentioned Job, as 
+they are found in the Hebrew manuscripts, “And in my flesh I shall see 
+God,”8! no doubt they were a prophecy of the resurrection of the flesh; 
+yet he does not say “by the flesh.” And indeed, if he had said this, it 
+would still be possible that Christ was meant by “God;” for Christ shall 
+be seen by the flesh in the flesh. But even understanding it of God, it is 
+only equivalent to saying, I shall be in the flesh when I see God. Then 
+the apostle’s expression, “face to face,”82 does not oblige us to believe 
+that we shall see God by the bodily face in which are the eyes of the 
+body, for we shall see Him without intermission in spirit. And if the 
+apostle had not referred to the face of the inner man, he would not have 
+said, “But we, with unveiled face beholding as in a glass the glory of the 
+Lord, are transformed into the same image, from glory to glory, as by the 
+Spirit of the Lord.”83 In the same sense we understand what the Psalmist 
+sings, “Draw near unto Him, and be enlightened; and your faces shall 
+not be ashamed.”84 For it is by faith we draw near to God, and faith is 
+an act of the spirit, not of the body. But as we do not know what degree 
+of perfection the spiritual body shall attain—for here we speak of a 
+matter of which we have no experience, and upon which the authority of 
+Scripture does not definitely pronounce—it is necessary that the words 
+of the Book of Wisdom be illustrated in us: “The thoughts of mortal men 
+are timid, and our forecastings uncertain.”85 
+
+For if that reasoning of the philosophers, by which they attempt to 
+make out that intelligible or mental objects are so seen by the mind, and 
+sensible or bodily objects so seen by the body, that the former cannot be 
+
+
+discerned by the mind through the body, nor the latter by the mind itself 
+without the body—if this reasoning were trustworthy, then it would 
+certainly follow that God could not be seen by the eye even of a spiritual 
+body. But this reasoning is exploded both by true reason and by 
+prophetic authority. For who is so little acquainted with the truth as to 
+say that God has no cognisance of sensible objects? Has He therefore a 
+body, the eyes of which give Him this knowledge? Moreover, what we 
+have just been relating of the prophet Elisha, does this not sufficiently 
+show that bodily things can be discerned by the spirit without the help 
+of the body? For when that servant received the gifts, certainly this was 
+a bodily or material transaction, yet the prophet saw it not by the body, 
+but by the spirit. As, therefore, it is agreed that bodies are seen by the 
+spirit, what if the power of the spiritual body shall be so great that spirit 
+also is seen by the body? For God is a spirit. Besides, each man 
+recognises his own life—that life by which he now lives in the body, and 
+which vivifies these earthly members and causes them to grow—by an 
+interior sense, and not by his bodily eye; but the life of other men, 
+though it is invisible, he sees with the bodily eye. For how do we 
+distinguish between living and dead bodies, except by seeing at once 
+both the body and the life which we cannot see save by the eye? But a 
+life without a body we cannot see thus. 
+
+Wherefore it may very well be, and it is thoroughly credible, that we 
+shall in the future world see the material forms of the new heavens and 
+the new earth in such a way that we shall most distinctly recognise God 
+everywhere present and governing all things, material as well as 
+spiritual, and shall see Him, not as now we understand the invisible 
+things of God, by the things which are made,8° and see Him darkly, as in 
+a mirror, and in part, and rather by faith than by bodily vision of 
+material appearances, but by means of the bodies we shall wear and 
+which we shall see wherever we turn our eyes. As we do not believe, but 
+see that the living men around us who are exercising vital functions are 
+alive, though we cannot see their life without their bodies, but see it 
+most distinctly by means of their bodies, so, wherever we shall look with 
+those spiritual eyes of our future bodies, we shall then, too, by means of 
+bodily substances behold God, though a spirit, ruling all things. Either, 
+therefore, the eyes shall possess some quality similar to that of the mind, 
+by which they may be able to discern spiritual things, and among these 
+
+
+God—a supposition for which it is difficult or even impossible to find 
+any support in Scripture—or, which is more easy to comprehend, God 
+will be so known by us, and shall be so much before us, that we shall see 
+Him by the spirit in ourselves, in one another, in Himself, in the new 
+heavens and the new earth, in every created thing which shall then exist; 
+and also by the body we shall see Him in every body which the keen 
+vision of the eye of the spiritual body shall reach. Our thoughts also 
+shall be visible to all, for then shall be fulfilled the words of the apostle, 
+“Judge nothing before the time, until the Lord come, who both will 
+bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and will make manifest the 
+thoughts of the heart, and then shall every one have praise of God.”87 
+
+
+30. Of the eternal felicity of the city of God, and of the perpetual Sabbath 
+
+
+How great shall be that felicity, which shall be tainted with no evil, 
+which shall lack no good, and which shall afford leisure for the praises 
+of God, who shall be all in all! For I know not what other employment 
+there can be where no lassitude shall slacken activity, nor any want 
+stimulate to labour. I am admonished also by the sacred song, in which I 
+read or hear the words, “Blessed are they that dwell in Thy house, O 
+Lord; they will be still praising Thee.”88 All the members and organs of 
+the incorruptible body, which now we see to be suited to various 
+necessary uses, shall contribute to the praises of God; for in that life 
+necessity shall have no place, but full, certain, secure, everlasting 
+felicity. For all those parts8? of the bodily harmony, which are 
+distributed through the whole body, within and without, and of which I 
+have just been saying that they at present elude our observation, shall 
+then be discerned; and, along with the other great and marvellous 
+discoveries which shall then kindle rational minds in praise of the great 
+Artificer, there shall be the enjoyment of a beauty which appeals to the 
+reason. What power of movement such bodies shall possess, I have not 
+the audacity rashly to define, as I have not the ability to conceive. 
+Nevertheless I will say that in any case, both in motion and at rest, they 
+shall be, as in their appearance, seemly; for into that state nothing which 
+is unseemly shall be admitted. One thing is certain, the body shall 
+forthwith be wherever the spirit wills, and the spirit shall will nothing 
+which is unbecoming either to the spirit or to the body. True honour 
+shall be there, for it shall be denied to none who is worthy, nor yielded 
+
+
+to any unworthy; neither shall any unworthy person so much as sue for 
+it, for none but the worthy shall be there. True peace shall be there, 
+where no one shall suffer opposition either from himself or any other. 
+God Himself, who is the Author of virtue, shall there be its reward; for, 
+as there is nothing greater or better, He has promised Himself. What else 
+was meant by His word through the prophet, “I will be your God, and ye 
+shall be my people,”9° than, I shall be their satisfaction, I shall be all 
+that men honourably desire—life, and health, and nourishment, and 
+plenty, and glory, and honour, and peace, and all good things? This, too, 
+is the right interpretation of the saying of the apostle, “That God may be 
+all in all.”9! He shall be the end of our desires who shall be seen without 
+end, loved without cloy, praised without weariness. This outgoing of 
+affection, this employment, shall certainly be, like eternal life itself, 
+common to all. 
+
+But who can conceive, not to say describe, what degrees of honour 
+and glory shall be awarded to the various degrees of merit? Yet it cannot 
+be doubted that there shall be degrees. And in that blessed city there 
+shall be this great blessing, that no inferior shall envy any superior, as 
+now the archangels are not envied by the angels, because no one will 
+wish to be what he has not received, though bound in strictest concord 
+with him who has received; as in the body the finger does not seek to be 
+the eye, though both members are harmoniously included in the 
+complete structure of the body. And thus, along with his gift, greater or 
+less, each shall receive this further gift of contentment to desire no more 
+than he has. 
+
+Neither are we to suppose that because sin shall have no power to 
+delight them, free will must be withdrawn. It will, on the contrary, be all 
+the more truly free, because set free from delight in sinning to take 
+unfailing delight in not sinning. For the first freedom of will which man 
+received when he was created upright consisted in an ability not to sin, 
+but also in an ability to sin; whereas this last freedom of will shall be 
+superior, inasmuch as it shall not be able to sin. This, indeed, shall not 
+be a natural ability, but the gift of God. For it is one thing to be God, 
+another thing to be a partaker of God. God by nature cannot sin, but the 
+partaker of God receives this inability from God. And in this divine gift 
+there was to be observed this gradation, that man should first receive a 
+free will by which he was able not to sin, and at last a free will by which 
+
+
+he was not able to sin—the former being adapted to the acquiring of 
+merit, the latter to the enjoying of the reward.92 But the nature thus 
+constituted, having sinned when it had the ability to do so, it is by a 
+more abundant grace that it is delivered so as to reach that freedom in 
+which it cannot sin. For as the first immortality which Adam lost by 
+sinning consisted in his being able not to die, while the last shall consist 
+in his not being able to die; so the first free will consisted in his being 
+able not to sin, the last in his not being able to sin. And thus piety and 
+justice shall be as indefeasible as happiness. For certainly by sinning we 
+lost both piety and happiness; but when we lost happiness, we did not 
+lose the love of it. Are we to say that God Himself is not free because He 
+cannot sin? In that city, then, there shall be free will, one in all the 
+citizens, and indivisible in each, delivered from all ill, filled with all 
+good, enjoying indefeasibly the delights of eternal joys, oblivious of sins, 
+oblivious of sufferings, and yet not so oblivious of its deliverance as to 
+be ungrateful to its Deliverer. 
+
+The soul, then, shall have an intellectual remembrance of its past ills; 
+but, so far as regards sensible experience, they shall be quite forgotten. 
+For a skilful physician knows, indeed, professionally almost all diseases; 
+but experimentally he is ignorant of a great number which he himself 
+has never suffered from. As, therefore, there are two ways of knowing 
+evil things—one by mental insight, the other by sensible experience, for 
+it is one thing to understand all vices by the wisdom of a cultivated 
+mind, another to understand them by the foolishness of an abandoned 
+life—so also there are two ways of forgetting evils. For a well-instructed 
+and learned man forgets them one way, and he who has experimentally 
+suffered from them forgets them another—the former by neglecting what 
+he has learned, the latter by escaping what he has suffered. And in this 
+latter way the saints shall forget their past ills, for they shall have so 
+thoroughly escaped them all, that they shall be quite blotted out of their 
+experience. But their intellectual knowledge, which shall be great, shall 
+keep them acquainted not only with their own past woes, but with the 
+eternal sufferings of the lost. For if they were not to know that they had 
+been miserable, how could they, as the Psalmist says, for ever sing the 
+mercies of God? Certainly that city shall have no greater joy than the 
+celebration of the grace of Christ, who redeemed us by His blood. There 
+shall be accomplished the words of the psalm, “Be still, and know that I 
+
+
+am God.”93 There shall be the great Sabbath which has no evening, 
+which God celebrated among His first works, as it is written, “And God 
+rested on the seventh day from all His works which He had made. And 
+God blessed the seventh day, and sanctified it; because that in it He had 
+rested from all His work which God began to make.”94 For we shall 
+ourselves be the seventh day, when we shall be filled and replenished 
+with God’s blessing and sanctification. There shall we be still, and know 
+that He is God; that He is that which we ourselves aspired to be when 
+we fell away from Him, and listened to the voice of the seducer, “Ye 
+shall be as gods,”95 and so abandoned God, who would have made us as 
+gods, not by deserting Him, but by participating in Him. For without 
+Him what have we accomplished, save to perish in His anger? But when 
+we are restored by Him, and perfected with greater grace, we shall have 
+eternal leisure to see that He is God, for we shall be full of Him when He 
+shall be all in all. For even our good works, when they are understood to 
+be rather His than ours, are imputed to us that we may enjoy this 
+Sabbath rest. For if we attribute them to ourselves, they shall be servile; 
+for it is said of the Sabbath, “Ye shall do no servile work in it.”96 
+Wherefore also it is said by Ezekiei the prophet, “And I gave them my 
+Sabbaths to be a sign between me and them, that they might know that I 
+am the Lord who sanctify them.”97 This knowledge shall be perfected 
+when we shall be perfectly at rest, and shall perfectly know that He is 
+God. 
+
+This Sabbath shall appear still more clearly if we count the ages as 
+days, in accordance with the periods of time defined in Scripture, for 
+that period will be found to be the seventh. The first age, as the first day, 
+extends from Adam to the deluge; the second from the deluge to 
+Abraham, equalling the first, not in length of time, but in the number of 
+generations, there being ten in each. From Abraham to the advent of 
+Christ there are, as the evangelist Matthew calculates, three periods, in 
+each of which are fourteen generations—one period from Abraham to 
+David, a second from David to the captivity, a third from the captivity to 
+the birth of Christ in the flesh. There are thus five ages in all. The sixth 
+is now passing, and cannot be measured by any number of generations, 
+as it has been said, “It is not for you to know the times, which the Father 
+hath put in His own power.”98 After this period God shall rest as on the 
+seventh day, when He shall give us (who shall be the seventh day) rest 
+
+
+in Himself. But there is not now space to treat of these ages; suffice it to 
+say that the seventh shall be our Sabbath, which shall be brought to a 
+close, not by an evening, but by the Lord’s day, as an eighth and eternal 
+day, consecrated by the resurrection of Christ, and prefiguring the 
+eternal repose not only of the spirit, but also of the body. There we shall 
+rest and see, see and love, love and praise. This is what shall be in the 
+end without end. For what other end do we propose to ourselves than to 
+attain to the kingdom of which there is no end? 
+
+I think I have now, by God’s help, discharged my obligation in writing 
+this large work. Let those who think I have said too little, or those who 
+think I have said too much, forgive me; and let those who think I have 
+said just enough join me in giving thanks to God. Amen. 
+
+
+1 Luke i. 33. 
+
+2 Phil. ii. 13. 
+
+3 John viii. 17. 
+
+4 Ps. xxxvii. 31. 
+5 Gal. iv. 9. 
+
+6 Gen. xxii. 18. 
+
+7 Isa. xxvi. 19. 
+
+8 Isa. lxv. 17-19. 
+9 Dan. xii. 1, 2. 
+10 Dan vii. 18. 
+
+11 Dan. vii. 27. 
+12 Another reading has diffamatum, “published.” 
+
+
+13 A somewhat fuller account of this miracle is given by Augustine in the Confessions, ix. 16. See 
+also Serm. 286, and Ambrose, Ep. 22. A translation of this epistle in full is given in Isaac Taylor’s 
+Ancient Christianity, ii. 242, where this miracle is taken as a specimen of the so-called miracles of 
+that age, and submitted to a detailed examination. The result arrived at will be gathered from the 
+following sentence: “In the Nicene Church, so lax were the notions of common morality, and in 
+so feeble a manner did the fear of God influence the conduct of leading men, that, on occasions 
+when the Church was to be served, and her assailants to be confounded, they did not scruple to 
+take upon themselves the contrivance and execution of the most degrading impostures.”—P. 270. 
+
+
+It is to be observed, however, that Augustine was, at least in this instance, one of the deceived. 
+
+
+14 Alypius was a countryman of Augustine, and one of his most attached friends. See the 
+
+
+Confessions, passim. 
+15 Cleros. 
+
+
+16 Faster and Whitsuntide were the common seasons for administering baptism, though no rule 
+was laid down till towards the end of the sixth century. Tertullian thinks these the most 
+
+
+appropriate times, but says that every time is suitable. See Tertull. de Baptismo, c. 19. 
+17 A town near Carthage. 
+
+18 This may possibly mean a Christian. 
+
+19 Near Hippo. 
+
+20 Augustine’s 325th sermon is in honour of these martyrs. 
+21 See Isaac Taylor’s Ancient Christianity, ii. 354. 
+22 See Augustine’s Sermons, 321. 
+
+23 Sermon 322. 
+
+24 Ps, xciv. 11. 
+
+25 Ç. 18. 
+
+26 Luke xxi. 18. 
+
+27 Eph. iv. 13. 
+
+28 Rom. viii. 29. 
+
+29 Luke xxi. 18. 
+
+30 Rom. viii. 29. 
+
+31 Rom. xii. 2. 
+
+32 Eph. iv. 13. 
+
+33 Rom. viii. 29. 
+
+34 Gen. ii. 22. 
+
+35 Eph. iv. 12. 
+
+36 Matt. xxii. 29. 
+
+37 Matt. xxii. 30. 
+
+38 Eph. iv. 10-16. 
+
+39 1 Cor. xii. 27. 
+
+40 Col. i. 24. 
+
+41 1 Cor. x. 17. 
+
+42 Another reading is, “Head over all the Church.” 
+
+
+43 Eph. i. 22, 23. 
+
+
+44 Ps. cxii. 1. 
+
+45 Luke xii. 7. 
+
+46 Matt. xiii. 43. 
+
+47 Cic. Tusc. Quæst. i. 27. 
+48 1 Cor. iii. 1. 
+
+491 Cor. xv. 44. 
+
+50 Ps. xxvi. 8. 
+
+51 Ecclus. xxx. 12. 
+
+52 Gal. v. 17. 
+
+53 1 Cor. xv. 57. 
+
+54 Rom. viii. 37. 
+
+55 Matt. vi. 12. 
+
+56 Gen. i. 28. 
+
+57 John v. 17. 
+
+58 Ps, xlix. 20. 
+
+59 1 Cor. iii. 7. 
+
+60 Coaptatio, a word coined by Augustine, and used by him again in the De Trin, iv. 2. 
+61 Ps, civ. 1. 
+
+
+62 He apparently has in view the celebrated passage in the opening of the second book of 
+
+
+Lucretius. The uses made of this passage are referred to by Lecky, Hist. of European Morals, i. 74. 
+63 Rom. viii. 32. 
+
+64 Vide Book xviii. c. 53. 
+65 Virg. Ain. vi. 751. 
+
+66 In the Republic, x. 
+
+67 Phil. iv. 7. 
+
+68 1 Cor. xiii. 9, 10. 
+
+69 1 Cor. xiii. 12. 
+
+70 Matt. xviii. 10. 
+
+71 1 John iii. 2. 
+
+72 Ps. cxvi. 10. 
+
+
+73 1 Cor. xiii. 11, 12. 
+
+
+74 2 Kings v. 26. 
+75 Jer. xxiii. 24. 
+76 Job xlii. 5, 6. 
+77 Eph. i. 18. 
+
+78 Matt. v. 8. 
+
+79 Luke iii. 6. 
+
+80 Luke ii. 29, 30 
+81 Job xix. 26. 
+82 ] Cor. xiii. 12. 
+83 2 Cor. iii. 18. 
+84 Ps. xxxiv. 5. 
+85 Wisd. ix. 14. 
+86 Rom. i. 20. 
+
+87 1 Cor. iv. 5. 
+88 Ps, Ixxxiv. 4. 
+89 Numbers. 
+
+90 Lev. xxvi. 12. 
+91 1 Cor. xv. 28. 
+92 Or, the former to a state of probation, the latter to a state of reward. 
+93 Ps. xlvi. 10. 
+
+94 Gen. ii. 2, 3. 
+95 Gen. iii. 5. 
+
+96 Deut. v. 14. 
+
+97 Ezek. xx. 12. 
+
+
+98 Acts i. 7. 
+
+
+COMMENTARY 
+
+
+SAINT AUGUSTINE 
+JOHN OF SALISBURY 
+SAINT THOMAS AQUINAS 
+
+
+SAINT AUGUSTINE 
+
+
+The thirteen books of my Confessions praise the just and good God for 
+my evil and good acts, and lift up the understanding and affection of 
+men to Him. At least, as far as I am concerned, they had this effect on 
+me while I was writing them and they continue to have it when I am 
+reading them. What others think about them is a matter for them to 
+decide. Yet, I know that they have given and continue to give 
+pleasure to many of my brethren. The first ten books were written 
+about myself; the last three about Holy Scripture, from the words: “In 
+the beginning God created heaven and earth” as far as the Sabbath 
+rest. 
+
+
+In the fourth book, after I confessed the misery of my soul at the time 
+of the death of a friend, saying that in some manner our soul had 
+been made one from two, I say: “And therefore perhaps I was afraid 
+to die lest the one whom I had loved so much should wholly die.” 
+This seems to me, as it were, a trifling pronouncement rather than a 
+serious confession, although this absurdity may be moderated to 
+some extent by the word perhaps which I added. And what I said in 
+the thirteenth book: “The firmament” was made “between the higher 
+spiritual waters and the lower corporeal waters,” was said without 
+sufficient deliberation. The subject, however, is exceedingly obscure. 
+
+
+[In 410], Rome was destroyed as a result of an invasion of the Goths 
+under the leadership of King Alaric, and of the violence of this great 
+disaster. The worshipers of many false gods, whom we call by the 
+customary name pagans, attempting to attribute its destruction to the 
+Christian religion, began to blaspheme the true God more sharply 
+and bitterly than usual. And so, “burning with zeal for the house of 
+God,” I decided to write the books, The City of God, in opposition to 
+
+
+their blasphemies and errors. This work kept me busy for some years 
+because many other things, which should not be deferred, interfered 
+and their solution had first claim on me. But finally, this extensive 
+work, The City of God, was completed in twenty-two books. 
+
+
+The first five of these books refute those persons who would so view 
+the prosperity of human affairs that they think that the worship of the 
+many gods whom the pagans worship is necessary for this; they contend 
+that these evils arise and abound because they are prohibited from doing 
+so. The next five books, however, speak against those who admit that 
+these evils have never been wanting and never will be wanting to 
+mortals, and that these, at one time great, at another time slight, vary 
+according to places, times, and persons; and yet they argue that the 
+worship of many gods, whereby sacrifice is offered to them, is useful 
+because of the life to come after death. In these ten books, then, these 
+two false beliefs, contrary to the Christian religion, are refuted. 
+
+
+But lest anyone charge that we have only argued against the beliefs 
+of others, and have not stated our own, it is just this that the second 
+part of this work, which consists of twelve books, accomplishes; 
+although, when there is need, both in the first ten books I state my 
+own opinions, and, in the last twelve, I argue against those opposed 
+to them. The first four of the following twelve books, then, deal with 
+the origin of the two cities, one of which is of God, the other of this 
+world; the next four books treat of their growth or progress; but the 
+third four books, which are also the last, deal with their destined 
+ends. And so, although the entire twenty-two books were written 
+about both cities, yet, they have taken their title from the better one, 
+and consequently are called, The City of God. 
+
+
+In the tenth of these books, the following should not have been cited as a 
+miracle: “during the sacrifice of Abraham, a fire enkindled in heaven ran 
+between the separated victims,” for this was shown to him in a vision. 
+What was said about Samuel in the seventeenth book, namely, that he 
+“was not a son of Aaron,” should preferably be stated as follows: “He 
+was not the son of a priest.” For the customary law was rather that sons 
+of priests succeed deceased priests; for the father of Samuel is found 
+
+
+among the sons of Aaron, but he was not a priest nor among Aaron’s 
+sons in the sense that Aaron had begotten him, but in the sense that all 
+his people are called sons of Israel. 
+
+
+From St. Augustine: The Retractions, translated by Sister Mary Inez Bogan 
+
+
+JOHN OF SALISBURY 
+
+
+Since the subject matter of prudence is truth (for prudence is concerned 
+with comprehending the truth), the ancients conceived of Prudence and 
+Truth as sisters, related by a divine consanguinity. Thus perfect prudence 
+needs must contemplate the truth, from which nothing can separate it. 
+But as this is not the privilege of man, we weak humans avidly seek to 
+discover the hidden truth. In fact, handicapped as it is by errors begotten 
+by sense perceptions and opinions, human prudence can hardly proceed 
+with [entire] confidence in its investigation of the truth, and can 
+scarcely be [completely] sure as to when it has comprehended the latter. 
+It realizes [all too well] that, having been deceived before, it can be 
+deceived again. Accordingly, it bends every effort to secure that valid 
+perception and unwavering judgment, which may be called “reason.” For 
+reason’s estimate is sure and reliable. Prudence therefore begets 
+Philology. This love of the truth in turn importunes prudence for a 
+knowledge of things concerning which it desires genuine, sure judgment. 
+“Philology,” like “philosophy,” is a modest appellation. Just as it is more 
+within one’s power to love wisdom than to attain it, so too it is easier to 
+love reason than to possess it. “To have reason,” that is, to possess 
+genuine certitude of judgment, is the lot of few. 
+
+
+Stimulated by sense perceptions, and keyed up by the solicitude of 
+prudence, the conscious soul exerts itself. Summoning its strength, it 
+endeavors strenuously to avoid errors arising from sense perceptions and 
+opinions. By dint of its intensified effort, it sees with greater clarity, 
+holds with greater security, and judges with greater accuracy. This more 
+perspicacious force is called “reason,” which is a spiritual nature’s power 
+to discriminate and distinguish material and immaterial entities, in order 
+
+
+to examine things with sure, unvitiated judgment. The latter, this 
+judgment of reason, is also referred to as “reason.” Furthermore, the 
+very things concerning which reason alone judges, and whose essence is 
+distinct from the nature of sensible and individual things, are likewise 
+called “reasons.” Father Augustine and many others state that the latter 
+“reasons” are everlasting. In such, original reason, which we may 
+properly identify as the wisdom of God, has from the beginning, and in 
+fact without beginning, established and decreed the divine eternal plan 
+and the order in which it was to be unfolded. It is quite evident that 
+some truths are infinite realities of this kind. That God is God, that the 
+Father has a Son, and that the Holy Spirit has the same substance as 
+both [Father and Son], are not merely statements. They have been 
+eternally true, and are firmly founded in the divine judgment. In 
+addition to such truths, there are also other infinite realities. The ratios 
+of two to three, and three to two, and several such things are likewise 
+everlasting, according to Augustine. If anyone thinks that this is absurd, 
+let him read Augustine’s book concerning Free Will, which should be 
+sufficient to convince him. 
+
+
+Since logic has such tremendous power, anyone who charges that it is 
+foolish to study this [art], thereby shows himself to be a fool of fools.... 
+Our Cornificius, opponent of logic, may likewise be deservedly despised 
+as the clown of philosophers. Not to mention Plato, Aristotle, and Cicero, 
+who, as our forefathers relate, initiated [the science of] philosophy and 
+brought it to perfection, Father Augustine, with whom it is rash to 
+disagree, praised logic so highly that only the foolhardy and 
+presumptuous would dare to rail against it. In his second book On Order, 
+Augustine says: “After the work of completing grammar and organizing 
+it [into a science] had been accomplished, reason was led to investigate 
+and scrutinize the very power whereby it had begotten this art [of 
+grammar]. For when reason [this power] formulated the definitions, 
+drew up the classifications, and concluded the [general] principles of 
+grammar, it not only arranged and organized the art, but also fortified 
+the latter against any possible intrusion of falsehood. Was it not fitting, 
+then, that, before reason would proceed to the construction of additional 
+
+
+arts and sciences, it should first distinguish, observe, and classify its own 
+processes and instruments, and thus bring to light that discipline of 
+disciplines called dialectic? For dialectic teaches both how to teach and 
+how to learn. In dialectic, reason discloses its own identity, and makes 
+manifest its nature, purpose, and potentialities. Dialectic alone knows 
+[how] to know, and it alone both wills and has the power to make men 
+learned.” What does Cornificius reply to the aforesaid? He does just 
+what one would expect of a feebleminded sluggard given to snoring 
+during exhortations to virtue: he yaps at what he cannot attain. 
+
+
+Against Cornificius and his fellow sluggards (for already he has 
+companions in error), we may well follow the procedure which 
+Augustine, in his first book Against the Academicians, outlines as among 
+the many things he learned from dialectic. In Augustine’s [own] words: 
+
+
+Dialectic has taught me that when that which is being discussed is evident, one should not 
+argue over words. It has also convinced me that when a disputant quibbles over words, if 
+he does so from lack of learning or experience, he should be instructed, but if he does so 
+from malice, we should refuse to argue any further with him. If [in the first instance] he 
+cannot be instructed, then he should be warned that he ought to make better use of his 
+time and energies, instead of wasting them on what is superfluous. If he still does not 
+comply, there is no point in paying more attention to him. On the other hand, the rule for 
+dealing with captious and fallacious little arguments is brief: If conclusions are inferred 
+from premises which should never have been granted in the first place, we should bring 
+the discussion back to a reéxamination of what was previously conceded. If the conclusion 
+contains conflicting truth and falsehood, then we should accept what is intelligible, but 
+reject what cannot be explained. Finally, if the mode in given instances utterly defies 
+
+
+human comprehension, we should not worry about seeking scientific knowledge of it. 
+
+
+m The Metalogicon of John of Salisbury: A Twelfth-Century Defense of 
+the Verbal and Logical Arts of the Trivium, translated by Daniel D. 
+McGarry 
+
+
+SAINT THOMAS AQUINAS 
+
+
+TREATISE ON GRACE 
+
+
+Question CIX 
+
+
+ON THE EXTERIOR PRINCIPLE OF HUMAN ACTS, 
+NAMELY, THE GRACE OF GOD 
+
+
+(in Ten Articles) 
+
+
+We must now consider the exterior principle of human acts, i.e., God, in 
+so far as, through grace, we are helped by Him to do the right. First, we 
+must consider the grace of God; secondly, its cause; thirdly, its effects. 
+
+The first point of consideration will be threefold, for we shall consider 
+(I) the necessity of grace; (2) grace itself, as to its essence; (3) its 
+division. 
+
+Under the first head there are ten points of inquiry (1) Whether 
+without grace man can know any truth? (2) Whether without God’s 
+grace man can do or will any good? (3) Whether without grace man can 
+love God above all things? (4) Whether without grace man can keep the 
+commandments of the Law through his natural powers? (5) Whether 
+without grace he can merit eternal life? (6) Whether without grace man 
+can prepare himself for grace? (7) Whether without grace he can rise 
+from sin? (8) Whether without grace man can avoid sin? (9) Whether 
+man, having received grace, can do good and avoid sin without any 
+further divine help? (10) Whether he can of himself persevere in good? 
+
+
+First Article 
+WHETHER WITHOUT GRACE MAN CAN KNOW ANY TRUTH? 
+We proceed thus to the First Article:-— 
+
+
+Objection I. It would seem that without grace man can know no truth. 
+For on I Cor. xii. 3 (No man can say, the Lord Jesus, but by the Holy Ghost) 
+the Gloss of Ambrose says: Every truth, by whomsoever spoken, is from the 
+Holy Ghost. Now the Holy Ghost dwells in us by grace. Therefore we 
+cannot know truth without grace. 
+
+
+Obj. 2. Further, Augustine says that the most certain sciences are like things 
+lit up by the sun so as to be seen. Now God Himself is He Who illumines, 
+
+
+while reason is in the mind as sight is in the eye, and the eyes of the mind are 
+the senses of the soul. Now the bodily senses, however pure, cannot see 
+any visible thing without the sun’s light. Therefore the human mind, 
+however perfect, cannot, by reasoning, know any truth without divine 
+light; and this pertains to the aid of grace. 
+
+
+Obj. 3. Further, the human mind can understand truth only by thinking, 
+as is clear from Augustine. But the Apostle says (2 Cor. iii. 5): Not that we 
+are sufficient to think anything of ourselves, as of ourselves; but our 
+sufficiency is from God. Therefore man cannot, of himself, know truth 
+without the help of grace. 
+
+
+On the contrary, Augustine says: I do not approve having said in the prayer: 
+O God, Who dost wish the sinless alone to know the truth; for it may be 
+answered that many who are not sinless know many truths. Now man is 
+cleansed from sin by grace, according to Ps. 1. 12: Create a clean heart in 
+me, O God, and renew a right spirit within my bowels. Therefore without 
+grace man of himself can know truth. 
+
+I answer that, To know truth is a certain use or act of intellectual light, 
+since, according to the Apostle (Ephes. v. 13): All that is made manifest is 
+light. Now every use implies some movement, taking movement broadly, 
+so as to call thinking and willing movements, as is clear from the 
+Philosopher. But in corporeal things we see that for movement there is 
+required not merely the form which is the principle of the movement or 
+action, but also the motion of the first mover. Now the first mover in the 
+order of corporeal things is the body of the heavens. Hence no matter 
+how perfectly fire has heat, it would not bring about alteration, except 
+by the motion of the body of the heavens. But it is clear that, just as all 
+corporeal movements are reduced to the motion of the body of the 
+heavens as to the first corporeal mover, so all movements, both 
+corporeal and spiritual, are reduced to the absolutely First Mover, Who 
+is God. And hence no matter how perfect a corporeal or spiritual nature 
+is supposed to be, it cannot proceed to its act unless it be moved by God. 
+Now this motion is according to the plan of His providence, and not by a 
+necessity of nature, as the motion of the body of the heavens. But not 
+only is every motion from God as from the First Mover, but all formal 
+perfection is from Him as from the First Act. Hence the action of the 
+
+
+intellect, or of any created being whatsoever, depends upon God in two 
+ways: first, inasmuch as it is from Him that it has the form whereby it 
+acts; secondly, inasmuch as it is moved by Him to act. 
+
+Now every form bestowed on created things by God has power for a 
+determined act, which it can effect in proportion to its own proper 
+endowment; and beyond this act it is powerless, except by a superadded 
+form, as water can heat only when heated by the fire. And thus, the 
+human understanding has a form, viz., intelligible light itself, which of 
+itself is sufficient for knowing certain intelligible truths, viz., those we 
+can come to know through sensible things. Higher intelligible truths the 
+human intellect cannot know, unless it be perfected by a stronger light, 
+viz., the light of faith or of prophecy, which is called the light of grace, 
+inasmuch as it is added to nature. 
+
+Hence we must say that for the knowledge of any truth whatsoever 
+man needs divine help in order that the intellect may be moved by God 
+to its act. But he does not need a new illumination added to his natural 
+light in order to know the truth in all things, but only in those that 
+surpass his natural knowledge. And yet at times God miraculously 
+instructs some by His grace in things that can be known by natural 
+reason, even as He sometimes brings about miraculously what nature 
+can do. 
+
+
+Reply Obj. 1. Every truth, by whomsoever spoken, is from the Holy Ghost 
+as bestowing the natural light, and moving us to understand and to 
+speak the truth; but not as dwelling in us by sanctifying grace, or as 
+bestowing any habitual gift superadded to nature. For this takes place 
+only with regard to knowing and speaking certain truths, and especially 
+in regard to such as pertain to faith, of which the Apostle was speaking. 
+
+
+Reply Obj. 2. The material sun sheds its light outside us, but the 
+intelligible Sun, Who is God, shines within us. Hence the natural light 
+bestowed upon the soul is God’s illumination, whereby we are illumined 
+to see what pertains to natural knowledge; and for this there is required 
+no further illumination, but only for such things as surpass natural 
+knowledge. 
+
+
+Reply Obj. 3. We always need God’s help for every thought, inasmuch as 
+
+
+He moves the intellect to act; for to understand anything actually is to 
+think, as is clear from Augustine. 
+
+
+Eighth Article 
+WHETHER MAN WITHOUT GRACE CAN AVOID SIN? 
+We proceed thus to the Eighth Article:— 
+
+
+Objection 1. It would seem that without grace man can avoid sin. For no 
+one sins in what he cannot avoid, as Augustine says. Hence, if a man in 
+mortal sin cannot avoid sin, it would seem that in sinning he does not 
+sin, which is impossible. 
+
+
+Obj. 2. Further, men are corrected that they may not sin. If, therefore, a 
+man in mortal sin cannot avoid sin, correction would seem to be given to 
+no purpose; which is absurd. 
+
+
+Obj. 3. Further, it is written (Ecclus. xv. 18): Before man is life and death, 
+good and evil; that which he shall choose shall be given him. But by sinning 
+no one ceases to be a man. Hence it is still in his power to choose good 
+or evil; and thus man can avoid sin without grace. 
+
+
+On the contrary, Augustine says: Whoever denies that we ought to say the 
+prayer “Lead us not into temptation” and they deny it who maintain that the 
+help of God’s grace is not necessary to man for salvation, but that the gift of 
+the law is enough for the human will) ought without doubt to be removed 
+beyond all hearing, and to be anathematized by the tongues of all. 
+
+I answer that, We may speak of man in two ways: first, in the state of 
+integral nature; secondly, in the state of corrupted nature. Now in the 
+state of integral nature, man, even without habitual grace, could avoid 
+sinning either mortally or venially, since to sin is nothing else than to 
+stray from what is according to our nature—and in the state of integral 
+nature man could avoid this. Nevertheless, he could not have done it 
+without God’s help upholding him in good, since if this had been 
+withdrawn, even his nature would have fallen back into nothingness. 
+
+But in the state of corrupted nature man needs grace to heal his nature 
+in order that he may entirely abstain from sin. And in the present life 
+
+
+this healing is wrought first in the mind, since the carnal appetite is not 
+yet entirely healed. Hence the Apostle (Rom. vii. 25) says in the person 
+of one who is healed: I myself, with the mind, serve the law of God, but with 
+the flesh, the law of sin. And in this state man can abstain from all mortal 
+sin, whose source is in the reason, as was stated above; but man cannot 
+abstain from all venial sin because of the corruption of his lower 
+appetite of sensuality. For man can, indeed, repress each of its 
+movements (and hence they are sinful and voluntary), but not all, 
+because, while he is resisting one, another may arise, and also because 
+the reason is not always alert to avoid these movements, as was said 
+above. 
+
+So, too, before man’s reason, wherein is mortal sin, is restored by 
+justifying grace, he can avoid each mortal sin, and for a time, since it is 
+not necessary that he should always be actually sinning. But it cannot be 
+that he remains for a long time without mortal sin. Hence Gregory says 
+that a sin not at once taken away by repentance, by its weight drags us down 
+to other sins, and this because, as the lower appetite ought to be subject 
+to the reason, so should the reason be subject to God, and should place 
+in Him the end of its will. Now it is by the end that all human acts ought 
+to be regulated, even as it is by the judgment of the reason that the 
+movements of the lower appetite should be regulated. And thus, even as 
+inordinate movements of the sensitive appetite cannot help occurring 
+since the lower appetite is not subject to reason, so likewise, since man’s 
+reason is not entirely subject to God, the consequence is that many 
+disorders occur in the acts itself of the reason. For when man’s heart is 
+not so fixed on God as to be unwilling to be parted from Him for the 
+sake of finding any good or avoiding any evil, many things happen for 
+the achieving or avoiding of which a man strays from God and breaks 
+His commandments, and thus sins mortally; especially since, when 
+surprised, a man acts according to his preconceived end and his pre- 
+existing habits, as the Philosopher says, although with the premeditation 
+of his reason a man may do something outside the order of his 
+preconceived end and the inclination of his habit. But because a man 
+cannot always have this premeditation, it cannot help occurring that he 
+acts in accordance with his will turned aside from God, unless, by grace, 
+he is quickly brought back to the due order. 
+
+
+Reply Obj. 1. Man can avoid each but not every act of sin, except by 
+grace, aS was stated above. Nevertheless, since it is by his own 
+shortcoming that he does not prepare himself to have grace, the fact that 
+he cannot avoid sin without grace does not excuse him from sin. 
+
+
+Reply Obj. 2. Correction is useful in order that out of the sorrow of 
+correction may spring the wish to be regenerate; if indeed he who is corrected 
+is a son of promise, in such sort that while the noise of correction is outwardly 
+resounding and punishing, God by hidden inspirations is inwardly also 
+causing him to will, as Augustine says. Correction is therefore necessary, 
+from the fact that man’s will is required in order to abstain from sin; and 
+yet it is not sufficient without God’s help. Hence it is written (Eccles. vii. 
+14): Consider the works of God that no man can correct whom He hath 
+despised. 
+
+
+Reply Obj. 3. As Augustine says, this saying is to be understood of man in 
+the state of integral nature, when as yet he was not a slave of sin. Hence 
+he was able to sin and not to sin. Now, too, whatever a man wills is 
+given to him; but his willing good, he has by God’s assistance. 
+
+
+From Basic Writings of Saint Thomas Aquinas, Vol. 2, edited by Anton C. 
+Pegis 
+
+
+READING GROUP GUIDE FOR THE CITY OF GOD 
+
+
+st. Augustine describes the origin of The City of God as follows: “[in 
+410] Rome was destroyed as a result of an invasion of the Goths.... 
+The worshipers of many false gods ... began to blaspheme the true 
+God more sharply ... than usual.” How does an awareness of the 
+origin of this work as a grand defense of Christianity help us to 
+understand it? 
+
+
+What is the meaning of the “two cities,” one of which is “of this 
+world,” and the other of which is “of God”? How does St. Augustine’s 
+analysis of these two cities and their histories help organize and 
+structure this work? 
+
+
+st. Augustine elaborates the notion of predestination (that all things 
+are preordained by God), an idea taken up much later by Martin 
+Luther and John Calvin. Discuss this crucial idea and its implications. 
+
+
+St. Augustine was deeply interested in the workings of the human 
+mind. How do Augustine’s ideas about sense perception, will, 
+intellect, and memory resonate with, or differ from, our own? In 
+what ways does The City of God shed light on your own experience of 
+being human? 
+
+
+The concept of doubt was crucial for St. Augustine. How is this 
+concept elaborated in The City of God? 
+
+
+“homas Merton, in his Introduction to this volume, describes the work 
+as follows: “Just as truly as the Confessions are the autobiography of 
+St. Augustine, The City of God is the autobiography of the Church 
+written by the most Catholic of her great saints.” How does this 
+perspective help us to understand St. Augustine’s writings? 
+
+
+St. Augustine is widely regarded as one of the great stylists in the 
+history of Christian literature. What is your sense of St. Augustine’s 
+style—his ability to communicate and render intelligible the complex 
+
+
+ideas, arguments, and concepts that constitute The City of God? 
+
+
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+
+SAINT AUGUSTINE 
+
+
+Saint Augustine, a seminal thinker and prolific writer widely regarded as 
+one of the greatest Fathers of the Catholic Church, was born Aurelius 
+Augustinus, a citizen of Rome, on November 13, av. 354, in the North 
+African town of Tagaste (today the Algerian village of Souk-Ahras). His 
+pagan father, Patricius, was a property owner and minor official; his 
+revered mother, Monnica, was of native Berber descent and a devout 
+Christian. Augustine received a classical Latin education at the local 
+school and later studied rhetoric in the nearby town of Madaura. While a 
+university student in the cosmopolitan seaport of Carthage he fathered a 
+son, Adeodatus, by an unnamed mistress who remained his lover for 
+many years. At the age of nineteen Augustine read Cicero’s Hortensius, a 
+now lost treatise that inspired him to seek true wisdom through the 
+study of philosophy. During this period he also joined the pseudo- 
+Christian sect known as the Manichezans. 
+
+Augustine embarked on a teaching career in 374. Over the next years 
+he conducted a school for rhetoric in Carthage and published his first 
+book, Beauty and Proportion (380), a no-longer-extant work on aesthetics. 
+In search of greater horizons as a master of rhetoric, Augustine left for 
+Rome in 383 but soon resettled in Milan. Inspired by the Neoplatonic 
+writings of Plotinus (ap. 205-270), who had taught that man is 
+awakened to a sense of divine destiny through purification from carnal 
+appetites, and moved by the eloquent sermons of Saint Ambrose, Bishop 
+of Milan, he gradually became attracted to Christianity. In 387, having 
+been baptized by Bishop Ambrose, Augustine abandoned teaching and 
+embraced a life of contemplation. His earliest philosophical dialogues, 
+including Against the Academicians (386) and On the Immortality of the 
+Soul (387), date from this time. 
+
+Upon returning to North Africa in 388 Augustine established a lay 
+
+
+monastery and was ordained a priest at Hippo (now the port of Annaba 
+in Algeria) in 391. Consecrated Bishop of Hippo in 396, he soon began 
+composing the Confessions (397-400), the remarkable chronicle of his 
+conversion to Christianity. Written in the form of a long prayer 
+addressed directly to God, the work endures as the greatest spiritual 
+autobiography of all time. “The reader who has never met Augustine 
+before ought to go first of all to the Confessions,” reflected Trappist monk 
+and scholar Thomas Merton. “Augustine lived the theology that he 
+wrote.... He experienced the reality of Christ living in his own soul.” 
+Over the next three decades Augustine exerted enormous influence as a 
+thinker, writer, and spiritual leader. He waged an arduous battle against 
+two powerful heresies—Donatism, which sought to set up a schismatic 
+national church in North Africa, and Pelagianism, a doctrine accepting 
+the importance of individual will. In addition to turning out numerous 
+polemical tracts, sermons, and biblical commentaries, he published On 
+the Trinity (416), a profound defense of the crucial dogma of the 
+Christian Church, and Retractions (427), a review of his voluminous 
+writings. 
+
+In 426 Augustine completed The City of God, one of the great 
+cornerstones of Western thought. Begun in 413, the book’s initial 
+purpose was to refute the charge that Christianity was to blame for the 
+fall of Rome, which had occurred just three years earlier. Augustine 
+produced a wealth of evidence to prove that paganism bore within itself 
+the seeds of its own destruction. He went on to present a cosmic 
+interpretation of history in terms of the struggle between good and evil. 
+As Thomas Merton observed: “Here is a book that was written over 
+fifteen hundred years ago by a mystic in North Africa. Yet to those who 
+have ears to hear, it has a great deal to say to many of us who are not 
+mystics, today, in America. The City of God is a monumental theology of 
+history ... the autobiography of the Church written by the most Catholic 
+of her great saints.... The City of God, for those who can understand it, 
+contains the secret of death and life, war and peace, hell and heaven.” 
+
+Augustine died on August 28, 430, as the Vandals lay siege to Hippo. 
+Though the city was partly burned, the theologian’s vast library, which 
+contained hundreds of his manuscripts, letters, and sermons, escaped 
+destruction. “Augustine possessed a strong, capacious, argumentative 
+mind; he boldly sounded the dark abyss of grace, predestination, free- 
+
+
+will, and original sin,” wrote Edward Gibbon in The Decline and Fall of 
+the Roman Empire. “Augustine, the first Christian philosopher and, one is 
+tempted to add, the only philosopher the Romans ever had, was also the 
+first man of thought who turned to religion because of philosophical 
+perplexities,” observed twentieth-century political philosopher Hannah 
+Arendt. And celebrated historian Jaroslav Pelikan concluded: “There has, 
+quite literllay, been no century of the sixteen centuries since the 
+conversion of Augustine in which he has not been a major intellectual, 
+spiritual, and cultural force. For more than a millennium and a half, 
+continuity with the thought of Augustine has been one of the most 
+persistent themes of Western intellectual history.” 
+
+
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+This is a reproduction of a library book that was digitized 
+by Google as part of an ongoing effort to preserve the 
+information in books and make it universally accessible. 
+
+
+Google books 
+
+
+https://books.google.com 
+
+
+THE LOEB CLASSICAL LIBRARY 
+
+
+FOUNDED BY JAMES LOEB, LL.D. 
+
+
+EDITED BY 
+G. P. GOOLD, PH.D. 
+
+
+n A gu ju vui Ne open 
+
+
+FORMER EDITORS 
+
+
+tT. E. PAGE, σ.Π., LITT.D. TE. CAPPS, PH.D., LL.D. 
+TW. H. D. ROUSE, rrrr.b. tL. A. POST, r.H.p. 
+E. H. WARMINGTON, Μ.Α., F.R.HIST.SOC. 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+-I 
+
+
+—— a RM 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+Fm AN ENGLISH TRANSLATION BY 
+A. D. GODLEY 
+
+
+HON. FELLOW OF MAGDALEN COLLEUE, OXFORD 
+
+
+IN FOUR VOLUMES 
+] 
+
+
+BOOKS I aun II 
+
+
+CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS 
+
+
+V HARVARD UNIVERSITY PRESS 
+
+
+LONDON 
+
+
+WILLIAM HEINEMANN LTD 
+
+
+MOFFITT - UGL 
+
+
+American ISBN 0-674-99130-3 
+British ISBN 0 434 99117 1 
+
+
+First printed 1920 
+Revised and Reprinted 1926, 1931, 
+1946, 1960, 1966, 1975 
+
+
+Printed in Great Britain 
+
+
+Did bh wheres a ρ 09 LL 
+a TIPTR 
+
+
+CONTENTS 
+
+
+GENERAL INTRODUCTION αν ο . ο es ee ee ew ο ο VII 
+INTRODUCTION TO BOOKS I AND II... ο «ο, ο XIX 
+BOOK I4 $ ο ο XO ο Se Ue 6L So EN l 
+BOOK H ο 02 xo» Ido ee CEUE AUN ο ee οι 
+INDEX OF PROPER NAMES FR SE ο Sem ee uw. «408 
+
+
+MAP—WESTERN ASIA MINOR . . . ο ο ν . ο ὁ ο Atend 
+
+
+GENERAL INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+A 
+
+
+Ir is impossible to give certain and undisputed 
+dates for the lifetime of Herodotus. But if we are 
+to believe Aulus Gellius, he was born in 484 nc; 
+and the internal evidence of his History proves that 
+he was alive during some part of the Peloponnesian 
+war, as he alludes to incidents which occurred in its 
+earlier years, He may therefore be safely said to 
+have been a contemporary of the two great wars 
+which respectively founded and ended the brief and 
+brilliant pre-eminence of Athens in Hellas. He 
+belongs in the fullest sense to the “great” period 
+of Greek history. 
+
+Herodotus was (it is agreed on all hands) a native 
+of Halicarnassus in Caria ; and if his birth fell in 484, 
+he was born a subject of the Great King. His early 
+life was spent, apparently, in his native town, or 
+possibly in the island of Samos, of which he shows 
+an intimate knowledge. Tradition asserts that after 
+a visit to Samos he * returned to Halicarnassus and 
+expelled the tyrant” (Lygdamis); “but when later 
+he saw himself disliked by his countrymen, he went 
+as a volunteer to Thurium, when it was being colonised 
+
+vii 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+GENERAL INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+by the Athenians. There he died and lies buried 
+in the market-place."! This is supported by good 
+evidence, and there seems to be no reason for doubt- 
+ing it. It is also stated that he visited Athens and 
+there recited some part of his history ; this may have 
+happened, as alleged, about the year 445. It is 
+evident from his constant allusions to Athens that he 
+knew it well, and must have lived there. 
+
+So much may be reasonably taken as certain. 
+Beyond it we know very little; there is a large field 
+for conjecture, and scholars have not hesitated to 
+expatiate in it. If Herodotus was banished from 
+Halicarnassus for political reasons, it is probable that 
+he was a man of some standing in his birth-place. 
+The unquestioned fact that he travelled far makes it 
+likely that he was well-to-do. But his history, full 
+as it is to the brim of evidences of travel, is never 
+(except in an occasional phrase, ** I have myself seen,” 
+and the like) autobiographical ; and we know nothing, 
+from any actual statement of the historian’s own, of 
+the date of his various visits to the countries which 
+he describes. Probably they were spread over a 
+considerable part of his life. All that can be said is 
+that he must have visited Egypt after 460 n.c., and 
+may have been before that date in Scythia. Nothing 
+else can be asserted ; we only know that at some time 
+or other Herodotus travelled not only in Greece and 
+the Aegean, of which he obviously has personal 
+knowledge, but also in a large part of what we call 
+
+
+1 Suidas. 
+viii 
+
+
+GENERAL INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+the Near East. He saw with his own eyes much of 
+Asia Minor; Egypt, as far south as Assuan; Cyrenc 
+and the country round it; Syria, and eastern lands 
+perhaps as far as Mesopotamia; and the northern 
+coast of the Black Sea. Within these limits, πολλῶν 
+ἀνθρώπων ἴδεν ἄστεα καὶ νόον ἔγνω. But as the datcs 
+of his travels are unknown, so is their intention. 
+Did he travel to collect materials for his history, its 
+scheme being already formed? or was that history 
+the outcome of the traveller's experiences? We only 
+know that Herodotus' wanderings and the nine books 
+of his narrative are mutually interwoven. 
+
+His professed object is, as he states it in the first 
+sentence of his first book, to write the history of the 
+Graeco-Persian war. But in order to do this he 
+must first describe the rise of the Persian empire, to 
+which the chapters on Lydia and the story of-Croesus 
+are introductory. When he comes in due time to 
+relate the Persian invasion of Egypt, this is the cue 
+for a description and history of the Nile valley, 
+occupying the whole of the second book; and the 
+story of Darius' subsequent expedition against Scythia 
+Jeads naturally to a long digression on the geography 
+and customs of that country. The narrative in the 
+later books, dealing with the actual Persian invasion 
+of Greece, is naturally less broken; but till then 
+at least it is interrupted by constant episodes and 
+digressions, here a chapter, there a whole book; it 
+is the historian’s practice, as he himself says, to in- 
+troduce προσθήκας, additions, whenever anything even 
+
+ix 
+
+
+Er 
+
+
+GENERAL INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+remotely connected with the matter in hand occurs 
+to him as likely to interest the reader. The net 
+result is really a history of the Near East, and a good 
+deal besides; a summary of popular knowledge or 
+belief respecting recent events and the world as 
+known more or less to the Greeks; which eventually, 
+after branching out into countless digressions and 
+divagations, centres in the crowning narrative o: 
+Marathon, Thermopylae, Salamis, Plataea. Tor. 
+tuously, but never tediously, Herodotus’ histor 
+moves to this goal. For all his discursiveness, h: 
+does not lack unity. “He is the first," it has bees 
+said, “to construct a long and elaborate narrative 
+in which many parts are combined in due subordina 
+tion and arrangement to make one great whole." 
+That a narrative so comprehensive in its nature— 
+dealing with so great a variety of subjects, and drawr 
+from sources so miscellaneous—should contain mucl 
+which cannot be regarded as serious history, is only 
+to be expected. It is impossible to generalise 
+where popular belief and ascertained fact, hearsay 
+and ocular evidence are blended, **the historica! 
+value of the matter found in Herodotus' work varies 
+not merely from volume to volume, or from book tc 
+book, but from paragraph to paragraph, from sentence 
+to sentence, from line to line. Every separate story, 
+every individual statement is to be tried on its own 
+merits." 3 Many critics have not taken the trouble 
+
+
+1 How and Wells’ Commentary on Herodotus. 
+2 R. W. Macan, Herodotus I V-VI. 
+
+
+GENERAL INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+to exercise this discrimination; it was for a long 
+time the fashion to dismiss the Father of History as 
+a garrulous raconteur, hoping to deceive his readers 
+as easily as he himself was deceived by his informants. 
+This “ parcel of lies" type of criticism may now, for- 
+tunately, be considered extinct. Modern research, 
+which began by discrediting Herodotus, has with 
+fuller knowledge come to far different conclusions. 
+It should be now (says Dr. Macan) “ universally 
+recognised that the most stringent application of 
+historical and critical methods to the text of Hero- 
+dotus leaves the work irremovably and irreplaceably 
+at the head of European prose literature, whether in 
+its scientific or in its artistic character." He has 
+been blamed for a * garrulity " which gives currency 
+to much which is alleged to be beneath the dignity 
+of history. But most scholars must now agree that 
+even from the historical standpoint the world would 
+have lost much of infinite value had Herodotus been 
+more reticent; his “garrulity’’ is often proved to 
+point the way to right conclusions. 
+
+Obviously, the condition of human beliefs and 
+opinions falls within the field of history. Where 
+Herodotus plainly and demonstrably errs, he is often 
+of supreme interest as indicating contemporary 
+thought, which he not only summarises but criticises 
+as well. His geography and his meteorology are repre- 
+sentative of a stage of thought. He has not arrived 
+at truth (naturally!) but he is consistent with a current 
+opinion which is nearer to truth than earlier con- 
+
+xi 
+
+
+Ke 
+
+
+GENERAL INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+ceptions of the world. It is true that the sun's course 
+is not affected, as Herodotus believes it to be, by the 
+wind. It is also true that the Danube does not rise 
+in the Pyrenees, and that the course of the upper 
+Nile is not from west to east. ! But no one in his 
+time knew better. He reflects and discusses con- 
+temporary opinion; he rejects earlier and more 
+primitive ideas. It may be counted to him for 
+righteousness that if he knows much less than Strabo, 
+at least he knows a great deal more than Homer. 
+Always and everywhere, Herodotus gives us the 
+best that is accessible to him ; and it is one of his 
+great merits as a historian that he does not give it 
+uncritically. Scanty justice, till lately, has been 
+done him in this matter; in reality, his manner of 
+retailing what has been told him shows anything but 
+credulity. Definite acceptance is much rarer than 
+plain expressions of disbelief in what he has heard; 
+“ they say, but I do not believe it” is a very frequent 
+introduction, This attitude is shown by the gram- 
+matical construction of the narrative—a construction 
+which translation cannot always reproduce without 
+awkwardness, and which is sometimes therefore over- 
+looked altogether; the fact remains that much of 
+the story is cast in the mould of reported speech, 
+showing that the writer is not stating that so-and-so 
+is a fact but only that it has been told him; and the 
+oralio obliqua is maintained throughout the narrative. 
+
+
+1 But the Bahr al Ghazal, a ra branch of the Nile, does 
+flow approximately W. to E.; and he may have meant this. 
+
+
+xii 
+
+
+GENERAL INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+Herodotus deliberately professes that this is his 
+method; ἐγὼ ὀφείλω λέγειν τὰ λεγόμενα, πείθεσθαί yé 
+μὴν παντάπασιν οὐκ ὀφείλω (Bk. vii.) ; τοῖσι μέν νυν ὑπ᾽ 
+Αἰγυπτίων λεγομένοισι χράσθω ὅτεῳ τὰ τοιαῦτα πιθανά 
+ἐστι' ἐμοὶ δὲ παρὰ πάντα τὸν λόγον ὑποκέεται ὅτι τὰ 
+λεγόμενα ὑπ᾽ ἑκάστων ἀκοῇ γράφω (ii. 123); “I know 
+not what the truth may be, I tell the tale as 'twas 
+told to me." In view of these plain statements, to 
+attack Herodotus for foolish credulity is nothing less 
+than disingenuous. 
+
+Some harm, moreover, has been done to Herodotus' 
+reputation by the tendency of modern languages to 
+alter the meaning of derived words. Herodotus 
+repeats μῦθοι Now a μῦθος is simply a tale, with no 
+implication of falsity; it may just as well be true as 
+not. But when we say that Herodotus repeats myths, 
+that is an altogether different matter; myth and 
+mythical carry the implication of falsehood; and 
+Herodotus is branded as a dupe or a liar, who cannot 
+be taken seriously as an authority for anything. 
+
+Herodotus' reputation for untrustworthiness arises, 
+in fact, from his professed method of giving a hearing 
+to every opinion. This has been of great service to 
+those who early and late have accused him of deli- 
+berate and perhaps interested falsification of historical 
+fact. These attacks began with Plutarch ; they have 
+been more than once renewed in modern times by 
+critics desirous of a name for originality and inde- 
+pendence. None of them can be regarded as of any 
+serious importance, They leave Herodotus’ credit 
+
+
+GENERAL INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+untouched, for the simple reason that they are hardly 
+ever based on solid evidence. Plutarch’s treatise on 
+Herodotus’ “ malignity” only establishes his own. 
+Modern critics, who maintain that Herodotus' praise 
+and blame is unjustly distributed, have seldom any 
+witness to appeal to save the historian himself; and 
+failing necessary support αὐ extra, they can only 
+assert the a priori improbability that an historian 
+who is inaccurate in one narrative should be accurate 
+in another. It is quite possible that the heroes of 
+the history were not so heroic and the villains not 
+so villainous as the historian paints them; but we 
+have no evidence as to the private life of Cyrus or 
+Cambyses beyond what the historian himself has 
+given us. Nor is there any justification for de- 
+preciating the services of Athens to Greece because 
+the eulogist of Athens happened to believe that the 
+Danube rises in the Pyrenees, and that the sun's 
+course is affected by the wind. 
+
+It cannot be denied that Herodotus invites criti- 
+cism. Plainly enough, a great deal of the evidence 
+on which he relies must be more substantial than 
+simple hearsay. He has undoubtedly learnt much 
+from documents engraved or written. To take one 
+instance, the long and detailed catalogue of the 
+nations included in the Persian empire and the 
+amounts of tribute paid by each must rest on some 
+documentary authority. But he will not support his . 
+credit by producing his proofs—at least, he does so 
+seldom; for the most part, his fontes are included 
+
+
+xiv 
+
+
+GENERAL INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+under * what he has heard"; he may have seen 
+this, he may have read that, but it is all set down 
+as hearsay and no more. There could be no better 
+way of opening the door to suspicious critics. 
+Further, some of the qualities which constitute the 
+charm of his narrative make him suspect to those 
+who ask only from history that it should be a plain 
+statement of what did actually happen. Herodotus 
+is pre-eminently biographical; personal passion and 
+desire is the guiding motive of events; they are 
+attributed to individual action more than to the 
+force of circumstance. Debatable situations are 
+described in terms of an actual debate between 
+named champions of this or that policy,—as in 
+Euripides, nay, as even in the comparatively matter- 
+of-fact narrative of Thucydides. Nor is it only the 
+human individual will which decides; it is the super- 
+human above all. The fortunes of individuals and 
+communities are presented to us as they appear to 
+a Greek who sees in human life *a sphere for the 
+realisation of Divine Judgments.” ! Τὸ θεῖον is always 
+working; whether as “Nemesis” to balance good 
+and evil fortune, and correct overweening pride and 
+excessive prosperity by corresponding calamity, or as 
+eternal justice to punish actual wrongdoing. Such 
+beliefs, common to all ages, find especial prominence 
+in the history of Herodotus, as they do in Greek 
+tragedy. The stories of Croesus, Polycrates, Cam- 
+byses, the fall of Troy—all are illustrations of a 
+
+
+1 Macan, op. cit. 
+xv 
+
+
+GENERAL INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+divine ordering of human affairs ; indeed the central 
+subject of the story—the débácle of the vast Persian 
+expedition against Hellas—exemplifies the maxim 
+that ὕβρις εἰ πολλῶν ὑπερπλησθῇ μάταν | ἀκρότατον 
+εἰσαναβᾶσ | ἀπότομον ὥρουσεν εἰς àváykav.! History 
+thus written is a means to moral edification; and 
+Herodotus may not be above the suspicion of twist- 
+ing the record of events so as to inculcate a moral 
+lesson. Such predispositions make history more 
+dramatic and more interesting; but those may be 
+excused who hold that they militate against strict 
+accuracy. 
+
+The dialect in which Herodotus writes is lonic, 
+the oldest literary dialect of Greece; but he also 
+makes use of many words and forms which are 
+commonly associated with the literature of Attica. 
+When therefore Dionysius of Halicarnassus calls him 
+τῆς Ἰάδος ἄριστος κανών, this must refer rather to his 
+pre-eminence as an Ionian stylist than to the 
+* purity" of his dialect; which in fact is rightly 
+described as μεμιγμένη and ποικίλη Perhaps Hero- 
+dotus language was affected by his residence at 
+Athens. But Ionic and “Old Attic" appear to 
+have been so nearly akin that it is difficult to draw 
+a clear line of division between them. From what. 
+ever sources drawn, his diction is pervaded by an 
+indefinable but unmistakably archaic quality which 
+constitutes not the least of a translator's difficulties. 
+
+1 Sophocles, Oedipus Tyrannus, 874-7. 
+? Hermogenes, περὶ ἰδεῶν 
+xvi 
+
+
+GENERAL INTRODUCTION 
+B 
+
+
+Among comparatively recent books the following 
+will be of especial value to the reader of Herodotus: 
+J. W. Blakesley's edition (text and notes) ; H. Stein 
+(text and German notes) ; G. Rawlinson's History of 
+Herodotus (translation, notes, and copious appendix); 
+R. W. Macan's Herodotus IV-VI and VII-IX (text 
+and notes); W. W. How and J. Wells' Commentary 
+on Herodotus (notes and appendix) ; Hude's Clarendon 
+Press edition (text and apparatus criticus); Grote's 
+and Bury's Histories of Greece. | 
+
+The text of Herodotus rests mainly on the 
+authority of nine MSS., of which a * Laurentianus ” 
+and a * Romanus" of the tenth and eleventh cen- 
+turies respectively are considered the best. The 
+merits of all the nine MSS. and the problems which 
+they present to an editor are fully discussed in 
+Hude’s preface to the Clarendon Press edition. The 
+text which I have followed is that of Stein; in the 
+few passages of any importance where I have thought 
+fit to follow any other authority, the fact is noted. 
+In the spelling of names I have not attempted to be 
+consistent. I use the familiar transliteration of κ 
+and ο, and write “Croesus” and ‘Cyrus,’ not 
+** Kroisos " and ** Kuros," only retaining terminations 
+in os where they are familiar and traditional. Where 
+place-names have a well-known English form, not 
+widely different from the Greek, I have kept to 
+that; for instance, * Athens" and “Thebes,” not 
+
+xvii 
+
+
+GENERAL INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+* Athenae" and “Thebae”; but I write * Carchedon ” 
+and “ Taras,’ not “Carthage” and “Tarentum.” 
+This is (I trust) a reasonable, though undeniably an 
+inconsistent, method. The scheme of the present 
+series does not contemplate a commentary ; only the 
+briefest notes, therefore, have been added to this 
+translation, and only where the * general reader" 
+may be supposed to stand in urgent need of a word 
+of explanation. 
+
+
+xvii 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO BOOKS I 
+AND II 
+
+
+Ir was by their conquest of Lydia that the Persians 
+were first brought into contact with the Greeks. 
+Hence it is necessary to Herodotus' plan to trace 
+the history of the line of Lydian kings which ended 
+with Croesus; this, with many attendant digressions, 
+occupies chapters 1-44 of Book I. On the same 
+principle, the history of the Medes and Persians, and 
+the early life of Cyrus himself, must be narrated 
+(ch. 45-140). Then follows the story of Cyrus’ 
+dealings with the Greeks of Asia Minor (ch. 140-- 
+177) The rest of the book is concerned with the 
+wars of Cyrus against the Assyrians and the Mas- 
+sagetae; a descriptive digression on Babylonian 
+civilisation naturally forms a part of this section. 
+
+Cyrus, killed in battle by the Massagetae, was 
+succeeded by his son Cambyses; and Cambyses, soon 
+after the beginning of his reign, resolved to attack 
+Egypt. This resolve gives the cue for Herodotus’ 
+memorable digression on the history and customs of 
+that country. 
+
+The second book falls into two parts The first 
+
+xix 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO BOOKS I AND II 
+
+
+is the portrayal of the Nile valley and its inhabi- 
+tants (ch. 1-98); the second gives a history of the 
+Egyptian kings. The whole book—a strange medley 
+of description and conjecture, history and fable— 
+has, in so far as it is descriptive of present things, the 
+supreme merit of a collection of pictures drawn by 
+an eyewitness. Herodotus’ travels seem to have 
+been mostly in Lower Egypt. But he knows also 
+the upper valley of the Nile, and apparently has 
+travelled as far as Assuan; his record, apart from 
+the charm of the narrative, has an enduring interest 
+as the earliest and for many centuries the only 
+literary source of our knowledge of the country. 
+
+But a clear distinction must be drawn between 
+the descriptive and the historical chapters. 
+
+It is not likely that Herodotus is inaccurate in | 
+describing what he has seen. But, for his Egyptian 
+chronicles, he has had to rely on what was told him, 
+certainly through the medium of interpreters and 
+probably in many eases by informants whose own 
+knowledge was limited and inexact. Here, as usual, 
+he safeguards himself against the charge of uncritical 
+credulity by showing that he repeats the tale as told 
+to him without guaranteeing its truth. It is very 
+clear, however, that the impressions of history given 
+to him are exceedingly misleading, at least for the 
+long period before the twenty-sixth or Saite dynasty. 
+His chronicle is full of errors of nomenclature and 
+chronological sequence, and is made to cover far too 
+long a period of time. Our knowledge of the early 
+XX 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO BOOKS I AND II 
+
+
+rulers of Egypt rests, firstly, on evidence supplied by 
+Egyptian monuments; secondly, on what remains to 
+us (though in an epitomised and imperfect form) of 
+the chronicle of Manetho, an Egyptian priest who in 
+the third century B.c. compiled a list of the kings of 
+his country. Herodotus is repeatedly at variance 
+with both these sources of information. In a brief 
+introduction it is impossible to multiply proofs, or even 
+to summarise the difficulties which beset students of 
+these abstruse matters ; itis enough to remember that 
+‘for Egyptian history in the strict sense chapters 99 to 
+146 are valueless."! These deal with the dynasties 
+preceding 663 B.c., and covering in fact some 2700 
+years. Herodotus gives them a far longer duration ; 
+apparently he was shown a list of Egyptian rulers, 
+and calculated the united lengths of their reigns by 
+assuming one generation, or thirty years, for each 
+king. So rough-and-ready a method of calculation 
+could lead to no true conclusion; and it is wholly 
+invalidated by the undoubted fact that many of the 
+reigns named in the list were contemporaneous. 
+
+
+1 How and Wells, op. ctt. ; the reader is referred to their 
+Commentary for a discussion of these matters. 
+
+
+xxi 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+BOOK I 
+
+
+a 4 
+
+
+HPOAOTOY ΙΣΤΟΡΙΑΙ 
+
+
+A 
+
+
+1. Ἡροδότου ᾿Αλικαρνησσέος ἱστορύης ἀπό- 
+ἕεξις abe, ὡς μήτε τὰ γενόμενα ἐξ ἀνθρώπων 
+τῷ χρόνῳ ἐξίτηλα- γένηται, μήτε ἔργα μεγάλα 
+τε καὶ θωμαστά, τὰ μὲν "Ἕλλησι τὰ δὲ βαρβά- 
+ροισι ἀποδεχθέντα, ἀκλεᾶ γένηται, τά τε ἄλλα 
+καὶ δι ἣν αἰτίην ἐπολέμησαν ἀλλήλοισι. 
+
+Περσέων μέν νυν οἱ λόγιοι Φοίνικας αἰτίους 
+φασὶ γενέσθαι τῆς διαφορῆς. τούτους γὰρ ἀπὸ 
+τῆς ᾿Ερυθρῆς καλεομένης θαλάσσης ἀπικομένους 
+ἐπὶ τήνδε τὴν θάλασσαν, καὶ οἰκήσαντας τοῦτον 
+τὸν χῶρον τὸν καὶ νῦν οἰκέουσι, αὐτίκα ναντιλή- 
+gc. μακρῆσι ἐπιθέσθαι, ἀπαγινέοντας δὲ φορτία’ 
+Αἰγύπτιά τε καὶ Ασσύρια τῇ τε ἄλλῃ ἐσαπικνέ- 
+εσθαι καὶ δὴ καὶ ἐς Άργος. τὸ δὲ Αργος τοῦτον 
+τὸν χρόνον προεῖχε ἅπασι τῶν ἐν τῇ νῦν Ἑλλάδι 
+καλεομένῃ χώρῃ. ἀπικομένους δὲ τοὺς Φοίνικας 
+
+
+9 
+
+
+ἐς δὴ τὸ "Αργος τοῦτο διατίθεσθαι τὸν φόρτον. 
+
+
+πέμπτῃ δὲ ἡ ἕκτῃ ἡμέρῃ am’ ἧς ἀπίκοντο, ἐξεμ- 
+
+
+πολημένων σφι σχεδὸκ πάντων, ἐλθεῖν ἐπὶ τὴν 
+θάλασσαν γυναῖκας ἄλλας τε πολλὰς καὶ δὴ καὶ 
+A / N 
+τοῦ βασιλέος θυγατέρα" τὸ δέ οἱ οὔνομα εἶναι, 
+. 9 . A Ne / 3 A A 
+κατὰ τὠυτὸ τὸ καὶ "Ελληνες λέγουσι, ᾿Ιοῦν τὴν 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+BOOK I 
+
+
+1. Wuar Herodotus the Halicarnassian has learnt 
+by inquiry is here set forth: in order that so the 
+memory of the past may not be blotted out from 
+among men by time, and that great and marvellous 
+deeds done by Greeks and foreigners and especially 
+the reason why they warred against each other may 
+not lack renown. 
+
+The Persian learned men say that the Phoe- 
+nicians were the cause of the feud. These (they say) 
+came to our seas from the sea which is called Red,! and 
+having settled in the country which they still occupy, 
+at once began to make long voyages. Among other 
+places to which they carried Egyptian and Assyrian 
+merchandise, they came to Argos, which was about 
+that time preeminent in every way among the people 
+of what is now called Hellas. The Phoenicians then 
+came, as I say, to Argos, and set out their cargo. 
+On the fifth or sixth day from their coming, their 
+wares being now well-nigh all sold, there came to 
+the sea shore among many other women the king's 
+daughter, whose name (according to Persians and 
+Greeks alike) was Io, the daughter of Inachus. They 
+
+
+! Not the modern Red Sea, but the Persian Gulf and 
+adjacent waters. 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+Ε; 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Ἰνάχου: ταύτας στάσας κατὰ πρύμνην τῆς νεὸς 
+ὠνέεσθαι τῶν φορτίων τῶν σφι ἦν θυμὸς μάλιστα" 
+καὶ τοὺς Φοίνικας διακελευσαμένους ὁρμῆσαι én’ 
+αὐτάς. τὰς μὲν δὴ πλεῦνας τῶν γυναικῶν ἀπο- 
+φυγεῖν, τὴν δὲ Ἰοῦν σὺν ἄλλῃσι ἁρπασθῆναι. 
+ἐσβαλομένους δὲ ἐς τὴν νέα οἴχεσθαι ἀποπλέοντας 
+ἐπ᾽ Αἰγύπτου. 
+
+9. Οὕτω μὲν ᾿]οῦν ἐς Αἴγυπτον ἀπικέσθαι 
+λέγουσι Πέρσαι, οὐκ ὡς " Έλληνες, καὶ τῶν 
+ἀδικημάτων πρῶτον τοῦτο ἄρξαι. μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα 
+Ἑλλήνων τινάς (οὐ γὰρ ἔχουσι τοὔνομα ànn- 
+γήσασθαι) φασὶ τῆς Φοινίκης ἐς Túpov προσ- 
+σχόντας ἁρπάσαι τοῦ βασιλέος τὴν θυγατέρα 
+Εὐρώπην. εἴησαν ὃ ἂν οὗτοι Κρῆτες. ταῦτα 
+μὲν δὴ ἴσα πρὸς ἴσα σφι γενέσθαι, μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα 
+“Ελληνας αἰτίους τῆς δευτέρης ἀδικίης γενέσθαι" 
+καταπλώσαντας γὰρ pakpr νηὶ és Alay τε τὴν 
+Κολχίδα καὶ ἐπὶ Φᾶσιν ποταμόν, ἐνθεῦτεν, δια- 
+πρηξαμένους καὶ τἆλλα τῶν εἵνεκεν ἀπίκατο, 
+ἁρπάσαι τοῦ βασιλέος τὴν θυγατέρα Μηδείην. 
+πέμψαντα δὲ τὸν Κόλχων βασιλέα ἐς τὴν 'EX- 
+λάδα κήρυκα αἰτέειν τε δίκας τῆς ἁρπαγῆς καὶ 
+ἀπαιτέειν τὴν θυγατέρα. τοὺς δὲ ὑποκρίνασθαι 
+ὡς οὐδὲ ἐκεῖνοι “lots τῆς ᾿Αργείης ἔδοσάν σφι 
+δίκας τῆς ἁρπαγῆς: οὐδὲ ὧν αὐτοὶ δώσειν ἐκεί- 
+νοισι. 
+
+9. Δευτέρῃ δὲ λέγουσι γενεῇ μετὰ ταῦτα 
+᾿Αλέξανδρον τὸν Πριάμου, ἀκηκοότα ταῦτα, 
+ἐθελῆσαί οἱ ἐκ τῆς “Ελλάδος δι ἁρπαγῆς γενέ- 
+σθαι γυναῖκα, ἐπιστάμενον πάντως ὅτι οὐ δώσει 
+δίκας" οὐδὲ γὰρ ἐκείνους διδόναι. οὕτω δὴ ἁρπά- 
+
+9 ae / ^ ο [4 ^ 
+σαντος αὐτοῦ ᾿Ελένην, τοῖσι Ἓλλησι δόξαι πρῶ- 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+BOOK |. 1-3 
+
+
+' stood about the stern of the ship: and while they 
+bargained for such wares as they fancied, the 
+Phoenicians heartened each other to the deed, 
+and rushed to take them. Most of the women 
+escaped: Io with others was carried off; the men 
+east her into the ship and made sail away for 
+Egypt. . 
+
+2. This, say the Persians (but not the Greeks), 
+was how Io came to Egypt, and this, according to 
+them, was the first wrong that was done. Next, 
+according to their tale, certain Greeks (they cannot 
+tell who) landed at Tyre in Phoenice and carried off 
+the king’s daughter Europe. These Greeks must, I 
+suppose, have been Cretans. So far, then, the ac- 
+count between them stood balanced. But after this 
+(say they) it was the Greeks who were guilty of the 
+second wrong. They sailed in a long ship to Aea of 
+the Colchians and the river Phasis!: and when they 
+had done the rest of the business for which they 
+came, they carried off the king’s daughter Medea. 
+When the Colchian king sent a herald to demand 
+reparation for the robbery, and restitution of his 
+daughter, the Greeks replied that as they had 
+been refused reparation for the abduction of the 
+Argive Io, neither would they make any to the 
+Colchians. 
+
+3. Then (so the story runs) in the second genera- 
+tion after this Alexandrus son of Priam, having 
+heard this tale, was minded to win himself a wife 
+out of Hellas by ravishment; for he was well per- 
+suaded that, as the Greeks had made no reparation, 
+so neither would he. So he carried off Helen. The 
+Greeks first resolved to send messengers demanding 
+
+
+1 This is the legendary cruise of the Argonauts. 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τὸν πέμψαντας. ἀγγέλους ἁπαιτέειν τε Ἑλένην 
+
+
+καὶ δίκας τῆς πο αἰτέειν. τοὺς δέ, . προῖ-. 
+
+
+σχομένων ταῦτα, προφέρειν σφι Μηδείης τὴν 
+ἁρπαγήν, ὡς οὗ δόντες αὐτοὶ δίκας οὐδὲ ἐκδόντες 
+
+
+ἀπαιτεόντων βουλοίατό σφι παρ ἄλλων δίκας 
+
+
+γίνεσθαι. 
+
+4. Μέ pt μὲν ὧν τούτου ἁρπαγὰς μούνας 
+εἶναι πα ἀλλήλων, τὸ δὲ ἀπὸ τούτου "Ελληνας 
+δὴ μεγάλως αἰτίους γενέσθαι" προτέρους γὰρ 
+ἄρξαι στρατεύεσθαι ἐς τὴν ᾿Ασίην ἢ σφέας ἐς 
+τὴν Εὐρώπην. τὸ μέν νυν. ἁρπαξειν γυναῖκας 
+
+
+ἀνδρῶν ἀδίκων νομίζειν ἔργον εἶναι, τὸ δὲ 
+
+
+ἁρπασθεισέων σπουδὴν ποιήσασθαι τιμωρέειν 
+ἀνοήτων, τὸ δὲ μηδεμίαν ὥρην ἔχειν ἁρπασθει- 
+σέων σωφρόνων" δῆλα γὰρ δὴ ὅτι, εἰ μὴ αὐταὶ 
+ἐβούλοντο, οὐκ ἂν ἡρπάξοντο. σφέας μὲν δὴ 
+τοὺς ἐκ τῆς ᾿Ασίης λέγουσι Πέρσαι ἁρπαζομενέων 
+τῶν γυναικῶν λόγον οὐδένα ποιήσασθαι, “Ελ. 
+ληνας δὲ Λακεδαιμονίης εἵνεκεν γυναικὸς στόλον 
+μέγαν συναγεῖραι καὶ ἔπειτα ἐλθόντας ἐς τὴν 
+᾿Ασίην τὴν Πριάμου δύναμιν κατελεῖν. ἀπὸ τού- 
+του αἰεὶ ἡγήσασθαι τὸ Ἑλληνικὸν σφίσι εἶναι 
+πολέμιον. τὴν yap ᾿Ασίην καὶ Ta ἐνοικέοντα 
+ἔθνεα βάρβαρα ' οἰκηιεῦνται, οἱ Πέρσαι, τὴν δὲ 
+Εὐρώπην καὶ τὸ Ἑλληνικὸν À ἥγηνται κεχωρίσθαι. 
+
+δ. Οὕτω μὲν Πέρσαι λέγουσι γενέσθαι, καὶ 
+διὰ τὴν Ἰλίου ἅλωσιν εὑρίσκουσι σφίσι ἐοῦσαν 
+τὴν ἀρχὴν τῆς ἔχθρης τῆς ἐς τοὺς "Ελληνας. περὶ 
+δὲ τῆς ]οῦς οὐκ did aly Πέρσῃσι οὕτω Φοί- 
+νικες' οὗ γὰρ ἁρπαγῇ σφέ ας χρησαμένους λέ- 
+γουσι ἀγαγεῖν αὐτὴν ἐς Αἴγυπτον, ἀλλ ὡς ἐν τῷ 
+
+1 ἔθνεα [βάρβαρα] Stein. 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+BOOK I. 3-5 
+
+
+that Helen should be restored and atonement made 
+for the rape; but when this proposal was made, the 
+Trojans pleaded the rape of Medea, and reminded 
+the Greeks that they asked reparation of others, yet 
+had made none themselves, nor given up the plunder 
+at request. 
+
+4, Thus far it was a matter of mere robbery on 
+both sides. But after this (the Persians say) the 
+Greeks were greatly to blame; for they invaded 
+Asia before the Persians attacked Europe. * We 
+think," say they, *that it is wrong to carry women 
+off: but to be zealous to avenge the rape is foolish : 
+wise men take no account of such things: for plainly 
+the women would never have been carried away, had 
+not they themselves wished it. We of Asia regarded 
+the rape of our women not at all; but the Greeks, all. 
+for the sake of a Lacedaemonian woman, mustered a 
+great host, came to Asia, and destroyed the power of 
+Priam. Ever since then we have regarded Greeks 
+as our enemies." The Persians claim Asia for their 
+own, and the foreign nations that dwell in it ; Europe 
+and the Greek race they hold to be separate from 
+them. 
+
+5. Such is the Persian account of the matter: in 
+their opinion, it was the taking of Troy which began 
+their feud with the Greeks. But the Phoenicians do 
+not tell the same story about Io as the Persians. 
+They say that they did not carry her off to Egypt by 
+force : she had intercourse in Argos with the captain 
+
+
+7 
+
+
+ma 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Apyet ἐμίσγετο τῷ ναυκλήρῳ τῆς νεός". ἐπεὶ δ᾽ 
+ἔμαθε ἔ ἔγκυος ἐοῦσα, αἰδεομένη τοὺς τοκέας οὕτω 
+δὴ ἐθελοντὴν αὐτὴν τοῖσι Φοίνιξι συνεκπλῶσαι, 
+ὡς ἂν μὴ κατάδηλος γένηται. 
+
+Ταῦτα μέν νυν Πέρσαι τε καὶ Φοίνικες λέ- 
+γουσι" ἐγὼ δὲ περὶ μὲν τούτων οὐκ ἔρχομαι ἐρέων 
+ὡς οὕτω i) ἄλλως κως ταῦτα ἐγένετο, τὸν δὲ οἶδα 
+αὐτὸς πρῶτον ὑπάρξαντα ἀδίκων ἔργων ἐς τοὺς 
+“Ἕλληνας, τοῦτον σημήνας προβήσομαι ἐς τὸ 
+πρόσω τοῦ λόγου, ὁμοίως σμικρὰ καὶ μεγάλα 
+ἄστεα ἀνθρώπων ἐπεξιών. τὰ γὰρ τὸ πάλαι 
+μεγάλα ἦν, τὰ πολλὰ σμικρὰ αὐτῶν γέγονε" τὰ 
+δὲ ἐπ’ ἐμεῦ ἦν μεγάλα, πρότερον ἦν σμικρά. τὴν 
+ἀνθρωπηίην ὧν ἐπιστάμενος εὐδαιμονίην οὐδαμὰ 
+ἐν τὠντῷ μένουσαν, ἐπιμνήσομαι ἀμφοτέρων 
+ὁμοίως. 
+
+6. Κροῖσος ἦν Λυδὸς μὲν γένος, παῖς δὲ ᾿Αλυ- 
+ἅττεω, τύραννος δὲ ἐθνέων τῶν ἐντὸς Avos 
+ποταμοῦ, ὃς ῥέων ἀπὸ μεσαμβρίης μεταξὺ Συρίων 
+τε καὶ Παφλαγόνων ἐξιεῖ πρὸς, βορέην ἄνεμον 
+ἐς τὸν Εὔξεινον καλεόμενον πόντον. οὗτος ὁ 
+Κροῖσος βαρβάρων πρῶτος τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν τοὺς 
+μὲν κατεστρέψατο Ἑλλήνων è ἐς φόρου ἀπαγωγήν, 
+τοὺς δὲ φίλους προσεποιήσατο. κατεστρέψατο 
+μὲν Ἴωνάς τε καὶ Αἰολέας καὶ Δωριέας τοὺς ἐν 
+τῇ ᾿Ασίῃ, φίλους δὲ προσεποιήσατο Λακεδαι- 
+μονίους. πρὸ δὲ τῆς Κροίσου ἀρχῆς πάντες 
+"Ελληνες ἦσαν ἐλεύθεροι. τὸ γὰρ Κιμμερίων 
+στράτευμα τὸ ἐπὶ τὴν Ἰωνίην ἆ ἀπικόμενον Κροίσου 
+ἐὸν πρεσβύτερον οὗ καταστροφὴ ἐγένετο τῶν 
+πολίων ἀλλ. ἐξ ἐπιδρομῆς ἆ ἁρπαγή. 
+
+7. Ἡ δὲ ἡγεμονίη οὕτω m ριῆλθε, ἐοῦσα 'Hpa- 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+BOOK I. ς-] 
+
+
+of the ship : then, perceiving herself to be with child, 
+she was ashamed that her parents should know it, 
+and so, lest they should discover her condition, 
+she sailed away with the Phoenicians of her own 
+accord. | 
+
+These are the stories of the Persians and the 
+Phoenicians. For my own part, I will not say that 
+this or that story is true, but I will name him whom I 
+myself know to have done unprovoked wrong to the 
+Greeks, and so go forward with my history, and 
+speak of small and great cities alike. For many 
+states that were once great have now become small : 
+and those that were great in my time were small 
+formerly. Knowing therefore that human prosperity 
+never continues in one stay, I will make mention 
+alike of both kinds. | 
+
+6. Croesus was by birth a Lydian, son of Alyattes, 
+and monarch of all the nations west of the river 
+Halys, which flows from the south between Syria and 
+Paphlagonia, and issues north ward into the sea called 
+Euxinus. This Croesus was as far as we know the 
+first foreigner who subdued Greeks and took tri- 
+bute of them, and won tlie friendship of others,— 
+the former being the Ionians, the Aeolians, and the 
+Dorians of Asia, and the latter the Lacedaemonians. 
+Before the reign of Croesus all Greeks were free: for 
+the Cimmerian host which invaded Ionia before his 
+time did not subdue the cities but rather raided and 
+robbed them. 
+
+
+7. Now the sovereign power, which belonged to 
+9 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+κλειδέων, ἐς τὸ γένος τὸ Κροίσου, καλεομένους δὲ 
+Μερμνάδας. ἦν Κανδαύλης, τὸν οἱ Ἕλληνες 
+Μυρσίλον ὀνομάξουσι, τύραννος Σαρδίων, ἀπό- 
+Ύονος δὲ ᾽Αλκαίου τοῦ Ἡρακλέος. "Άγρων -μὲν 
+γὰρ ὃ Νίνου τοῦ Βήλου τοῦ ᾿Αλκαίου πρῶτος 
+Ἡρακλειδέων βασιλεὺς ἐγένετο Σαρδίων, Kav- 
+δαύλης δὲ ὁ Μύρσου ὕστατος. οἱ δὲ πρότερον 
+"Άγρωνος βασιλεύσαντες ταύτης τῆς χώρης ἦσαν 
+ἀπόγονοι Λυδοῦ τοῦ ᾽Άτυος, an’ ὅτευ ὁ δῆμος 
+Λύδιος ἐκλήθη ὁ πᾶς οὗτος, πρότερον Μηίων 
+καλεόμενος. παρὰ τούτων Ἡρακλεῖδαι ἐπιτραφ- 
+
+
+θέντες ἔ ἔσχον τὴν ἀρχὴν ἐκ θεοπροπίου, ἐκ δούλης. 
+
+
+τε τῆς ᾿Ιαρδάνου γεγονότες καὶ Ἡρακλέος, àp- 
+ξαντες μὲν ἐπὶ δύο τε καὶ εἴκοσι γενεὰς ἀνδρῶν 
+ἔτεα πέντε τε καὶ πεντακόσια, παῖς παρὰ πατρὸς 
+ἐκδεκόμενος τὴν ἀρχήν, μέχρι Κανδαύλεω τοῦ 
+Μύρσου. 
+
+8. Οὗτος δη, ὧν ὁ Κανδαύλης ἠράσθη τῆς 
+ἑωυτοῦ γυναικός, ἐρασθεὶς δὲ ἐνόμιζέ οἱ εἶναι 
+γυναῖκα πολλὸν πασέων καλλίστην. ὥστε δὲ 
+ταῦτα νομίξων, ἢ ἦν γάρ οἱ τῶν αἰχμαφόρων Γύγης 
+ὁ Δασκύλου «ἀρεσκόμενος μάλιστα, τούτῳ τῷ 
+Γύγη καὶ τὰ σπουδαιέστερα τῶν πρηγμάτων 
+
+
+-ὑπερετίθετο ὁ Κανδαύλης καὶ δὴ καὶ τὸ εἶδος τῆς 
+
+
+γυναικὸς ὑπερεπαινέων. χρόνου δὲ οὐ πολλοῦ 
+διελθόντος (χρῆν γὰρ Κανδαύλῃ γενέσθαι κακῶς) 
+ἔλεγε πρὸς τὸν Γύγην τοιάδε. “ Ρύγη, οὗ γάρ σε 
+δοκέω πείθεσθαί μοι λέγοντι περὶ τοῦ εἴδεος 
+τῆς γυναικός (ὦτα γὰρ τυγχάνει ἀνθρώποισι 
+ἐόντα ἀπιστότερα, ὀφθαλμῶν), ποίεε ὅκως ἐκείνην 
+θεήσεαι γυμνήν. "^ δ δ ἀμβώσας εἶπε “δέσποτα, 
+τίνα λέγεις λόγον οὐκ ὑγιέα, κελεύων µε δέσποι- 
+
+
+το 
+
+
+ΜΑ ΜΕΡΕΙ pee iL 
+
+
+BOOK I 7-8 
+
+
+the descendants of Heracles, fell to the family of 
+Croesus—the Mermnadae as they were called —in the 
+following way. Candaules, whom the Greeks call 
+Myrsilus, was the ruler of Sardis; he was descended 
+from Alcaeus, son of Heracles; Agron, son of Ninus, 
+son of Belus, son of Alcaeus, was the first Heraclid 
+king of Sardis, and Candaules, son of Myrsus, was the 
+last. The kings of this country before Agron were 
+descendants of Lydus, son of Atys, from whom all 
+this Lydian district took its name; before that it was 
+called the land of the Meii. From these the Hera- 
+clidae, descendants of Heracles! and a female slave 
+of Iardanus, received the sovereignty and held it in 
+charge, by reason of an oracle; and they ruled for 
+two and twenty generations, or 505 years, son 
+succeeding father, down to Candaules, son of Myrsus. 
+8. This Candaules, then, fell in love with his own 
+wife, so much that he supposed her to be by far the 
+fairest woman in the world; and being persuaded of 
+this, he raved of her beauty to Gyges, son of Dascy- 
+lus, who was his favourite among his bodyguard ; for 
+it was to Gyges that he entrusted all his weightiest 
+secrets. Then after a little while Candaules, being 
+doomed to ill-fortune, spoke thus to Gyges : “ I think, 
+Gyges, that you do not believe what I tell you of 
+the beauty of my wife; men trust their ears less 
+than their eyes; do you, then, so contrive that you 
+may see her naked." Gyges exclaimed loudly at this. 
+* Master," said he, * what a pestilent command is 
+this that you lay upon me! that I should see her who 
+1 Descendants of Heracles seems to mean descended from 
+the Asiatic sungod identified with Heracles by the Greeks. 
+
+
+II 
+VOL. I. B 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ναν τὴν ἐμὴν θεήσασθαι γυμνήν; ἅμα δὲ κιθῶνι 
+ἐκδυομένῳ συνεκδύεται καὶ τὴν αἰδῶ γυνή. πάλαι 
+δὲ τὰ καλὰ ἀνθρώποισι ἐξεύρηται, ἐκ τῶν μαν- 
+θάνεῳ δεῖ: ἐν τοῖσι èv τόδε ἐστί, σκοπέειν τινὰ τὰ 
+ἑωυτοῦ. ἐγὼ δὲ πείθομαι ἐκείνην εἶναι πασέων 
+γυναικῶν καλλίστην, καὶ σέο δέομαι μὴ δέεσθαι 
+ἀνόμων." 
+
+9. Ὃ μὲν δὴ λέγων τοιαῦτα ἀπεμάχετο, ἀρρω- 
+δέον μὴ τί οἱ εξ αὐτῶν γένηται κακόν, ὃ δ᾽ ἀμεί- 
+βετο τοῖσιδε. * θάρσεε, Γύγη, καὶ μὴ φοβεῦ μήτε 
+ἐμέ, ὡς σέο πειρώμενος ' λέγω λόγον τόνδε, μήτε 
+γυναῖκα τὴν ἐμήν, μή τί τοι ἐξ αὐτῆς γένηται 
+Βλάβος. ἀρχὴν γὰρ ἐγὼ μηχανήσομαι οὕτω 
+ὥστε μηδὲ μαθεῖν μιν ὀφθεῖσαν ὑπὸ σεῦ. ἐγὼ 
+γάρ σε ἐς τὸ οἴκημα ἐν τῷ κοιμώμεθα ὄπισθε τῆς 
+ἀνοιγομένης θύρης στήσω. μετὰ Ò ἐμὲ ἐσελθόντα 
+παρέσται καὶ ἡ γυνὴ ἡ ἐμὴ ἐς κοῖτον. κεῖται δὲ 
+ἀγχοῦ τῆς ἐσόδου θρόνος" ἐπὶ τοῦτον τῶν ἱματίων 
+κατὰ ἓν ἕκαστον, ἐκδύνουσα θήσει, καὶ κατ᾽ 
+ἡσυχίην πολλὴν παρέξει τοι θεήσασθαι. ἐπεὰν 
+δὲ ἀπὸ τοῦ θρόνου στείχῃ. ἐπὶ τὴν εὐνὴν κατὰ 
+νώτου τε αὐτῆς γένῃ, σοἱ μελέτω τὸ ἐνθεῦτεν ὅκως 
+μή σε ὄψεται ἰ ἰόντα. διὰ θυρέων. 
+
+10. Ὃ μὲν δὴ ὡς οὐκ ἐδύνατο διαφυγεῖ», ἢ ἣν 
+ἕτοιμος" ὁ δὲ Κανδαύλης, ἐπεὶ ἐδόκεε ὥρη τῆς 
+κοίτης εἶναι, ἤγαγε τὸν Γύγεα ἐς τὸ οἴκημα, καὶ 
+μετὰ ταῦτα αὐτίκα Tr αρῆν καὶ ἡ γυνή. ἐσελθοῦσαν 
+δὲ καὶ τιθεῖσαν. τὰ εἵματα ἐθηεῖτο ὁ Γύγη ὡς 
+δὲ κατὰ νώτου ἐγένετο ἰούσης τῆς γυναικὸς: s τὴν 
+κοίτην, ὑπεκδὺς ἐχώρεε ἔξω, καὶ ἡ γυνὴ ἐπορᾷ 
+μιν ἐξιόντα. μαθοῦσα δὲ τὸ ποιηθὲν ἐκ τοῦ 
+
+1 πειρώμενον Stein, 
+13 
+
+
+BOOK l. 8-10 
+
+
+is my mistress naked! with the stripping off of her 
+tunic a woman is stripped of the honour due to her, 
+Men have long ago made wise rules for our learning ; 
+one of these is, that we, and none other, should see what 
+is our own. As for me, I fully believe that your 
+queen is the fairest of all women; ask not lawless 
+acts of me, I entreat you." 
+
+-9. Thus speaking Gyges sought to turn the king's 
+purpose, for he feared lest some ill to himself should 
+come of it: but this was Candaules’ answer: “Take | 
+courage, Gyges: fear not that I say this to put you 
+to the proof, nor that my wife will do you any harm. 
+I will so contrive the whole business that she shall 
+never know that you have seen her. I will bring you 
+into the chamber where she and I lie and set you 
+behind the open door ; and after I have entered, my 
+wife too will come to her bed. There is a chair set 
+near the entrance of the room : on this she will lay 
+each part of her raiment as she takes it off, and 
+you will be able to gaze upon her at your leisure. 
+Then, when she goes from the chair to the bed, 
+turning her back upon you, do you look to it 
+that she does not see you going out through the 
+doorway.” 
+
+10: As Gyges could not escape, he consented. 
+Candaules, when he judged it to be bed time, brought 
+Gyges into the chamber, his wife presently followed, 
+and when she had come in and was laying aside her 
+garments Gyges beheld her; and when she turned 
+her back upon him, going to her bed, he slipped 
+privily from the room. The woman saw him as he 
+passed out, and perceived what her husband had 
+done. But shamed though she was she never cried 
+
+
+13 
+
+
+> 
+ποιήσαντα οὐ νομιζόμενα. 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἀνδρὸς οὔτε ἀνέβωσε αἰσχυνθεῖσα οὔτε ἔδοξε 
+μαθεῖν, ἐν νάῳ ἔχουσα τίσεσθαι τὸν Κανδαύλεα. 
+παρὰ γὰρ τοῖσι Λυδοῖσι, σχεδὸν δὲ καὶ παρὰ 
+τοῖσι ἄλλοισι βαρβάροισι καὶ ἄνδρα ὀφθῆναι 
+γυμνὸν ἐς αἰσχύνην μεγάλην φέρει. 
+
+11. Τότε μὲν δὴ οὕτω οὐδὲν δηλώσασα ἡσυχίην 
+εἶχε" ὡς δὲ ἡμέρη τάχιστα ἐγεγόνεε, τῶν οἰκετέων 
+τοὺς µάλιστα ὥρα πιστοὺς ἐόντας ἑωυτῇ, ἑτοίμους 
+ποιησαμένη ἐκάλεε τὸν Γύγεα. ὃ δὲ οὐδὲν δοκέων 
+αὐτὴν τῶν πρηχθέντων ἐπίστασθαι ἦλθε καλεό- 
+μενος: ἐώθεε γὰρ καὶ πρόσθε, ὅκως ἡ βασίλεια 
+καλέοι, φοιτᾶν. ὡς δὲ ὁ Γύγης ἀπίκετο, ἔλεγε 
+ἡ γυνὴ τάδε. “νῦν τοι δυῶν ὁδῶν παρεουσέων 
+Γύγη δίδωμι αἵρεσιν, ὀκοτέρην βούλεαι τραπέσθαι. 
+ἢ γὰρ Κανδαύλεα ἀποκτείνας ἐμέ τε καὶ τὴν 
+βασιληίην ἔχε τὴν Λυδῶν, ἢ αὐτόν σε αὐτίκα 
+οὕτω ἀποθνήσκειν δεῖ, ὡς ἂν μὴ πάντα πειθόμενος 
+Κανδαύλῃ τοῦ λοιποῦ ἴδῃς τὰ μή σε δεῖ. ἀλλ᾽ 
+ἤτοι κεῖνόν γε τὸν ταῦτα βουλεύσαντα δεῖ ἀπόλ- 
+λυσθαι, ἢ σὲ τὸν ἐμὲ γυμνὴν θεησάμενον καὶ 
+> ὁ δὲ Γύγης τέως μὲν 
+ἀπεθώμαζε τὰ λεγόμενα, μετὰ δὲ ἱκέτευε μή μιν 
+ἀναγκαίῃ ἐνδέειν διακρῖναι τοιαύτην αἵρεσιν. 
+οὔκων δὴ ἔπειθε, ἀλλ᾽ ὥρα ἀναγκαίην ἀληθέως 
+προκειμένην ἢ τὸν δεσπότεα ἀπολλύναι ἢ αὐτὸν 
+ὑπ᾽ ἄλλων ἀπόλλυσθαι" αἱρέεται αὐτὸς περιεῖναι. 
+ἐπειρώτα δὴ λέγων τάδε. “' ἐπεί µε ἀναγκάζεις 
+δεσπότεα τὸν ἐμὸν κτείνειν οὐκ ἐθέλοντα, φέρε 
+ἀκούσω τέῳ καὶ τρόπῳ ἐπιχειρήσομεν αὐτῷ.᾽ ἢ 
+δὲ ὑπολαβοῦσα ἔφη “ἐκ τοῦ αὐτοῦ μὲν χωρίου 
+ἡ ὁρμή ἔσται ὅθεν περ καὶ ἐκεῖνος ἐμὲ ἐπεδέξατο 
+γύμνην, ὑπνωμένῳ δὲ ἡ ἐπιχείρησις ἔσται." 
+
+
+14 
+
+
+BOOK I. ro-11 
+
+
+out nor let it be seen that she had perceived aught, 
+for she had it in mind to punish Candaules ; seeing 
+that among the Lydians and most of the foreign 
+peoples it is held great shame that even a man should 
+be seen naked. 
+
+11. For the nonce she made no sign and held her © 
+peace. Butas soon as it was day, she assured her- 
+self of those of her household whom she perceived 
+to be most faithful to her, and called Gyges: who, 
+supposing that she knew nothing of what had been 
+done, came at call; for he had always been wont to 
+attend the queen whenever she bade him. So when 
+he came, the lady thus addressed him: “Now, Gyges, 
+you have two roads before you; choose which you 
+will follow. You must either kill Candaules and take 
+me for your own and the throne of Lydia, or your- 
+self be killed now without more ado ; that will pre- 
+vent you from obeying all Candaules' commands in 
+the future and seeing what you should not see. 
+One of you must die: either he, the contriver of 
+this plot, or you, who have outraged all usage by 
+looking on me unclad." At this Gyges stood awhile 
+astonished: presently he entreated her not to com- 
+pel him to such a choice; but when he could not 
+move her, and saw that dire necessity was in very 
+truth upon him either to kill his master or himself 
+be killed by others, he chose his own life. Then 
+he asked the queen to tell him, since she forced 
+him against his will to slay his master, how they 
+were to attack the king: and she replied, “ You 
+shall come at him from the same place whence 
+he made you see me naked; attack him in his 
+sleep." 
+
+
+hor 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+12. Ὡς δὲ ἤρτυσαν τὴν ἐπιβουλήν, νυκτὸς 
+γενομένης (οὐ γὰρ ἐμετίετο ὁ Γύγης, οὐδέ οἱ ἣν 
+ἀπαλλαγὴ οὐδεμία, ἀλλ, ἔδεε ἢ αὐτὸν ἀπολωλέναι 
+A , es 9 ` , ^ , 
+ἢ Κανδαύλεα) εἴπετο ἐς τὸν θάλαμον τῇ γυναικί, 
+καί μιν ἐκείνη, ἐγχειρίδιον δοῦσα, κατακρύπτει 
+ὑπὸ τὴν αὐτὴν θύρην. καὶ μετὰ ταῦτα ἀνάπαυο- 
+μένου Κανδαύλεω ὑπεκδύς τε καὶ ἀποκτείνας 
+αὐτὸν ἔσχε καὶ τὴν γυναῖκα καὶ τὴν βασιληίην 
+Γύγης τοῦ καὶ ᾿Αρχίλοχος ὁ Πάριος κατὰ τὸν 
+αὐτὸν χρόνον γενόμενος ἐν ἰάμβῳ τριμέτρῳ 
+ἐπεμνήσθη. 
+
+19. Ἔσχε δὲ τὴν βασιληίην καὶ ἐκρατύνθη ἐκ 
+τοῦ ἐν Δελφοῖσι χρηστηρίου. ὡς γὰρ δὴ οἱ 
+Λυδοὶ δεινὸν ἐποιεῦντὸ τὸ Κανδαύλεω πάθος καὶ 
+ἐν ὅπλοισι ἦσαν, συνέβησαν ἐς τὠυτὸ οἵ τε τοῦ 
+Γύγεω στασιῶται καὶ οἱ λοιποὶ Λυδοί, ἣν μὲν τὸ 
+χρηστήριον ἀνέλῃ μιν βασιλέα εἶναι Λυδῶν, τὸν. 
+δὲ βασιλεύειν, ἣν δὲ μή, ἀποδοῦναι ὀπίσω ἐς 
+Ἡρακλείδας τὴν ἀρχήν. ἀνεῖλέ τε δὴ τὸ χρη- 
+
+ρακλείδας τὴν ἀρχή À τὸ χρη 
+στήριον καὶ ἐβασίλευσε οὕτω Γύγης. τοσόνδε 
+μέντοι εἶπε ἡ Πυθίη, ὡς Ἡρακλείδῃσι τίσις ἥξει 
+ἐς τὸν πέμπτον ἀπόγανον Γύγεω. τούτου τοῦ 
+ἔπεος Λυδοί τε καὶ οἱ βασιλέες αὐτῶν λόγον 
+οὐδένα ἐποιεῦντο, πρὶν δὴ ἐπετελέσθη. 
+
+14. Τὴν μὲν δὴ τυραννίδα οὕτω ἔσχον οἱ 
+Μερμνάδαι τοὺς Ἡρακλείδας ἀπελόμενοι, Γύγης 
+δὲ τυραννεύσας ἀπέπεμψε ἀναθήματα ἐς Δελφοὺς 
+οὐκ ὀλίγα, ἀλλ ὅσα μὲν ἀργύρου ἀναθήματα, 
+ἔστι οἱ πλεῖστα ἐν Δελφοῖσι, πάρεξ δὲ τοῦ 
+ἀργύρου χρυσὸν ἄπλετον ἀνέθηκε ἄλλον τε καὶ 
+
+
+1 Stein brackets the words τοῦ καὶ-- ἐπεμνήσθη as super. 
+fluous and therefore probably spurious. | 
+
+
+16 
+
+
+BOOK I. 12-14 
+
+
+12. So when they had made ready this plot, and 
+night had fallen, Gyges followed the lady into the 
+chamber (for he could not get free or by any means 
+escape, but either he or Candaules must die), and 
+she gave him a dagger and hid him behind the same 
+door; and presently he stole out and slew Candaules 
+as he slept, and thus made himself master of the 
+king's wife and sovereignty. He is mentioned in the 
+iambic verses of Archilochus of Parus who lived about 
+the same time. 
+
+13. So he took possession of the sovereign power, 
+and was confirmed therein by the Delphic oracle. 
+For when the Lydians were much angered by the 
+fate of Candaules, and took up arms, the faction of 
+Gyges and the rest of the people came to an agree- 
+ment that if the oracle should ordain him to be 
+king of the Lydians, then he should reign: but if 
+not, then he should render back the kingship to 
+the Heraclidae. The oracle did so ordain: and 
+Gyges thus became king. Howbeit the Pythian 
+priestess declared that the Heraclidae should have 
+vengeance on Gyges’ posterity in the fifth generation : 
+an utterance of which the Lydians and their kings 
+took no account, till it was fulfilled. 
+
+14. Thus did the Mermnadae rob the Heraclidae 
+of the sovereignty and take it for themselves. Having 
+gained it, Gyges sent not a few offerings to Delphi: 
+there are very many silver offerings of his there: 
+and besides the silver, he dedicated great store of 
+
+
+17 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τοῦ μάλιστα μνήμην ἄξιον ἔχειν ἐστί, κρητῆρες 
+οἱ ἀριθμὸν ἓξ χρύσεοι ἀνακέαται. ἑστᾶσι δὲ οὗτοι 
+ἐν τῷ Κορινθίων θησαυρῷ, σταθμὸν ἔχοντες τριή- 
+κοντα τάλαντα" anné δὲ λόγῳ χρεωμένῳ ov Kop- 
+
+
+. ενθίων τοῦ δημοσίου ἐστὶ ὁ θησαυρός, ἀλλὰ Κυψέ- 
+
+
+Xov τοῦ Ἠετίωνος. οὗτος δὲ ὁ Γύγης πρῶτος Bap- 
+βάρων τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν ἐς Δελφοὺς ἀνέθηκε 
+2 , lá b / . 
+ἀναθήματα μετὰ Μίδην τὸν Γορδίεω Φρυγίης 
+βασιλέα. ἀνέθηκε γὰρ δὴ καὶ Μίδης τὸν βασι- 
+λήιον θρόνον ἐς τὸν προκατίξων ἐδίκαζε, ἐόντα 
+ἀξιοθέητον' κεῖται δὲ ὁ θρόνος οὗτος ἔνθα περ οἱ 
+τοῦ Γύγεω κρητῆρες. ὁ δὲ χρυσὸς οὗτος καὶ ὁ 
+ἄργυρος τὸν ὁ Γύγης ἀνέθηκε, ὑπὸ Δελφῶν 
+καλέεται Γυγάδας ἐπὶ τοῦ ἀναθέντος ἐπωνυμίην. 
+
+15. ᾿Εσέβαλε μέν νυν στρατιὴν καὶ οὗτος ἐπείτε 
+ἧρξε ἔς τε Μίλητον καὶ ἐς Σμύρνην, καὶ Κολοφῶ- 
+νος τὸ ἄστυ εἷλε: ἀλλ. οὐδὲν γὰρ μέγα ἀπ᾽ αὐτοῦ 
+9 y 3 7 /, ^ / 
+ἄλλο ἔργον ἐγένετο βασιλεύσαντος δυῶν δέοντα 
+τεσσεράκοντα ἔτεα, τοῦτον μὲν παρήσομεν τοσαῦτα 
+» / * M ^ -£ . , 
+ἐπιμνησθέντες, "Αρδυος δὲ τοῦ Γύγεω μετὰ Γύγην - 
+βασιλεύσαντος μνήμην ποιήσομαι. οὗτος δὲ 
+Πριηνέας τε εἷλε ἐς Μίλητόν τε ἐσέβαλε, ἐπὶ τού- 
+του τε τυραννεύοντος Σαρδίων Κιμμέριοι ἐξ ἠθέων 
+ὑπὸ Σκυθέων τῶν νομάδων ἐξαναστάντες ἀπίκοντο 
+9 4 9 ’ / 4 ^ 3 [4 
+ἐς τὴν ᾿Ασίην καὶ Σάρδις πλὴν τῆς ἀκροπόλιος 
+εἷλον. 
+
+16. "Αρδυος δὲ βασιλεύσαντος ἑνὸς δέοντα mev- 
+τήκοντα ἔτεα ἐξεδέξατο Σαδυάττης ὁ "Άρδυος, καὶ 
+ἐβασίλευσε ἔτεα δυώδεκα, Σαδυάττεω δὲ ᾿Αλυάτ- 
+της. οὗτος δὲ Κυαξάρῃ τε τῷ Δηιόκεω ἀπογόνῳ- 
+ἐπολέμησε καὶ Μήδοισι, Κιμμερίους τε ἐκ τῆς 
+, , 9ο { M » N ^ 
+Ασίης ἐξήλασε, Σμύρνην τε τὴν ἀπὸ Κολοφῶνος 
+18 | 
+
+
+BOOK Ἱ. 14-16 
+
+
+gold: among which six golden bowls are the offerings 
+chiefly worthy of record. These weigh 30 talents! 
+and stand in the treasury? of the Corinthians: though 
+in very truth it is the treasury not of the Corinthian 
+people but of Cypselus son of Eetion. This Gyges 
+then was the first foreigner (of our knowledge) who- 
+placed offerings at Delphi after the king of Phrygia, 
+Midas son of Gordias. For Midas too made an 
+offering, to wit, the royal seat whereon he sat to 
+give judgment, and a marvellous seat it is; it is set 
+in the same place as the bowls of Gyges. This gold 
+and the silver offered by Gyges is called by the 
+Delphians ** Gygian " after its dedicator. 
+
+15. As soon as Gyges came to the throne, he too, 
+like others, led an army into the lands of Miletus 
+and Smyrna; and he took the city of Colophon. 
+But he did nothing else great in his reign of thirty- 
+eight years ; I will therefore say no more of him, and 
+will speak rather of Ardys the son of Gyges, who 
+succeeded him. He took Priene and invaded the 
+country of Miletus; and it was while he was 
+monarch of Sardis that the Cimmerians, driven from 
+their homes by the nomad Scythians, came into Asia, 
+and took Sardis, all but the citadel. 
+
+16. Ardys reigned for forty-nine years, and was 
+succeeded by his son Sadyattes, who reigned for 
+twelve years; and after Sadyattes came Alyattes, 
+who waged war against Deioces' descendant Cyaxares 
+and the Medes, drove the Cimmerians out of Asia, 
+took Smyrna (which was a colony from Colophon), 
+
+1 The ** Attic” talent had a weight of about 58 lbs. avoir- 
+dupois, the ** Aeginetan” of about 82. | 
+Many Greek states had special ‘‘ treasuries” allotted to 
+
+
+them in the temple λα at Delphi, in which their 
+offerings were deposited. 
+19 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+κτισθεῖσαν εἷλε, ἐς Κλαζομενάς τε ἐσέβαλε. ἀπὸ 
+/ LA » [4 wv 3 F ? N 
+μέν νυν τούτων οὐκ ὡς ἤθελε ἀπήλλαξε, ἀλλὰ 
+’ / » \ xy > / 
+προσπταίσας μεγάλως: ἄλλα δὲ ἔργα ἀπεδέξατο 
+ἐὼν ἐν τῇ ἀρχῇ ἀξιαπηγητότατα τάδε. 
+
+17. ᾿Επολέμησε Μιλησίοισι, παραδεξάµενος τὸν 
+πόλεμον παρὰ τοῦ πατρός. ἐπελαύνων γὰρ ἐπο- 
+λιόρκεε τὴν Μίλητον τρόπῳ τοιῷδε: ὅκως μὲν εἴη 
+ἐν τῇ γῆ καρπὸς ἆδρός, τηνικαῦτα ἐσέβαλλε τὴν 
+στρατιήν: ἐστρατεύετο δὲ ὑπὸ συρίγγων τε καὶ 
+πηκτίδων καὶ αὐλοῦ γυναικηίου τε καὶ ἀνδρηίου. 
+
+, 
+ὡς δὲ ἐς τὴν Μιλησίην ἀπίκοιτο, οἰκήματα μὲν τὰ 
+ἐπὶ τῶν ἀγρῶν οὔτε κατέβαλλε οὔτε ἐνεπίμπρη 
+οὔτε θύρας ἀπέσπα, ča δὲ κατὰ χώρην ἑστάναι" ὃ 
+δὲ τά τε δένδρεα καὶ τὸν καρπὸν τὸν ἐν τῇ yh ὅκως 
+διαφθείρειε, ἀπαλλάσσετο ὀπίσω. τῆς γὰρ θαλάσ- 
+σης οἱ Μιλήσιοι ἐπεκράτεον, ὥστε ἐπέδρης μὴ 
+εἶναι ἔργον τῇ στρατιῇ. τὰς δὲ οἰκίας οὐ κατέ- 
+ε . ^ [rd e? » 3 ^ 
+
+BaXXe ὁ Λυδὸς τῶνδε εἵνεκα, ὅκως ἔχοιεν ἐνθεῦτεν 
+ὁρμώμενοι τὴν γῆν σπείρειν τε καὶ ἐργάξεσθαι οἱ 
+Μιλήσιοι, αὐτὸς δὲ ἐκείνων ἐργαζομένων ἔχοι τι 
+καὶ σίνεσθαι ἐσβάλλων. 
+
+18. Tatra ποιέων ἐπολέμεε ἔτεα ἕνδεκα, ἐν 
+
+^ , ΄ ΄ , 9.7 
+τοῖσι τρώματα μεγάλα διφάσια Μιλησίων ἐγένετο, 
+ἔν τε Λιμενηίῳ χώρης τῆς σφετέρης μαχεσαμένων 
+καὶ ἐν Μαιάνδρου πεδίῳ. τὰ μέν νυν ἓξ ἔτεα τῶν 
+ν ὃ - Ò ΄ ε "A 5 » A ὃ ^ e e \ 
+ἕνδεκα Σαδυάττης 0" ApÓvos ἔτι Λυδῶν ἦρχε, ὁ καὶ 
+ἐσβάλλων τηνικαῦτα ἐς τὴν Μιλησίην τὴν στρα- 
+Tiny: Σαδυάττης οὗτος γὰρ καὶ ὁ τὸν πόλεμον ἦν 
+συνάψας' τὰ δὲ πέντε τῶν ἐτέων τὰ ἑπόμενα 
+
+^ ^ , / € ΄ 9 , a 
+τοῖσι ἓξ ᾿Αλυάττης ὁ Σαδυάττεω ἐπολέμεε, ὃς 
+παραδεξάμενος, ὡς καὶ πρότερόν μοι δεδήλωται, 
+
+^ . ^ 
+παρὰ τοῦ πατρὸς τὸν πόλεμον προσεῖχε ἐντετα- 
+20 
+
+
+BOOK I. 16-18 
+
+
+and invaded the lands of Clazomenae. But here he 
+came off not at all as he wished, but with great 
+disaster. Of other deeds done by him in his reign 
+these were most notable: 
+
+17. He continued the war against the Milesians | 
+which his father had begun. This was the manner 
+in which he attacked and laid siege to Miletus: he 
+sent his invading army, marching to the sound of 
+pipes and harps and flutes bass and treble, when 
+the crops in the land were ripe: and whenever he 
+came to the Milesian territory, the country dwellings 
+he neither demolished nor burnt nor tore off their 
+doors, but let them stand unharmed; but the trees 
+and the crops of the land he destroyed, and so 
+returned whence he came; for as the Milesians had 
+command of the sea, it was of no avail for his 
+army to besiege their city. The reason why the 
+Lydian did not destroy the houses was this—that the 
+Milesians might have homes whence to plant and 
+cultivate their land, and that there might be the fruit 
+of their toil for his invading army to lay waste. 
+
+18. In this manner he waged war for eleven years, 
+and in these years two great disasters befel the Miles- 
+ians, one at the battle of Limeneion in their own 
+territory, and the other in the valley of the Maeander. 
+For six of these eleven years Sadyattes son of Ardys 
+was still ruler of Lydia, and he it was who invaded 
+the lands of Miletus, for it was he who had begun 
+the war; for the following five the war was waged 
+by Sadyattes son Alyattes, who, as I have before 
+shown, inherited the war from his father and carried 
+
+
+2I 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+µένως. τοῖσι δὲ Μιλησίοισι οὐδαμοὶ ᾿]ώνων τὸν 
+πόλεμον τοῦτον συνεπελάφρυνον ὅτι μὴ Χῖοι 
+μοῦνοι. οὗτοι δὲ τὸ ὅμοιον ἀνταποδιδόντες ἐτι- 
+μώρεον' καὶ γὰρ δὴ πρότερον οἱ Μιλήσιοι τοῖσι 
+Χίοισι τὸν πρὸς Ερυθραίους πόλεμον συνδιήνεικαν. 
+
+19. Τῷ δὲ δυωδεκάτῳ ἔτεϊ ληίου ἐμπιπραμένου 
+ὑπὸ τῆς στρατιῆς συνηνείχθη τι τοιόνδε γενέσθαι 
+πρῆγμα: ὡς ἄφθη τάχιστα τὸ λήιον, ἀνέμῳ 
+βιώμενον ἄψατο νηοῦ ᾿Αθηναίης ἐπίκλησιν Ac- 
+σησίης, ἀφθεὶς δὲ ὁ νηὸς κατεκαύθη. καὶ τὸ 
+παραυτίκα μὲν λόγος οὐδεὶς ἐγένετο, μετὰ δὲ τῆς 
+στρατιῆς ἀπικομένης ἐς Σάρδις ἐνόσησε ὁ ᾿Αλυάτ- 
+της. μακροτέρης δέ οἱ γινομένης τῆς νούσου 
+πέμπει ἐς Δελφοὺς θεοπρόπους, εἴτε δὴ συμβου- 
+λεύσαντός τευ, εἴτε καὶ αὐτῷ ἔδοξε πέμψαντα τὸν 
+θεὸν ἐπειρέσθαι περὶ τῆς νούσου. τοῖσι δὲ ἡ 
+Πυθίη ἀπικομένοισι ἐς Δελφοὺς οὐκ ἔφη χρήσειν 
+πρὶν ἢ τὸν νηὸν τῆς ᾿Αθηναίης ἀνορθώσωσι, τὸν 
+ἐνέπρησαν χώρης τῆς Μιλησίης ἐν ᾿Ασσησφ. 
+
+90. Δελφῶν οἶδα ἐγὼ οὕτω ἀκούσας γενέσθαι" 
+Μιλήσιοι δὲ τάδε προστιθεῖσι τούτοισι, Περίαν- 
+δρον τὸν Κυψέλου ἐόντα Θρασυβούλῳ τῷ τότε 
+Μιλήτου τυραννεύοντι ξεῖνον ἐς τὰ μάλιστα, 
+πυθόμενον τὸ χρηστήριον τὸ τῷ ᾿Αλυάττῃ γενό- 
+μενον, πέμψαντα ἄγγελον κατειπεῖν, ὅκως ἄν τι 
+προειδὼς πρὸς τὸ παρεὸν βουλεύηται. 
+
+91. Μιλήσιοι μέν νυν οὕτω λέγουσι γενέσθαι. 
+» 4 / ο e ^ , $. 9 ^ 
+Αλυάττης δέ, ὥς οἱ ταῦτα ἐξαγγέλθη, αὐτίκα 
+ἔπεμπε κήρυκα ἐς Μίλητον βουλόμενος σπονδὰς 
+ποιήσασθαι Θρασυβούλῳ τε καὶ Μιλησίοισι 
+χρόνον ὅσον ἂν τὸν νηὸν οἰκοδομέῃ. ὃ μὲν δὴ 
+
+
+92 
+
+
+BOOK I. 18-2t 
+
+
+it on vigorously. None of the Ionians helped to 
+lighten this war for the Milesians, except only the 
+Chians: these lent their aid for a like service done to 
+themselves; for the Milesians had formerly helped 
+the Chians in their war against the Erythraeans. 
+
+19. In the twelfth year, when the Lydian army 
+was burning the crops, it so happened that the fire 
+set to the crops and blown by a strong wind caught 
+the temple of Athene called Athene of Assesos!: 
+and the temple was burnt to the ground. For the 
+nonce no account was taken of this. But presently 
+after the army had returned to Sardis Alyattes 
+fell sick ; and, his sickness lasting longer than it 
+should, he sent to Delphi to inquire of the oracle, 
+either by someone's counsel or by his own wish 
+to question the god about his sickness: but when 
+the messengers came to Delphi the Pythian priestess 
+would not reply to them before they should restore 
+the temple of Athene at Assesos in the Milesian 
+territory, which they had burnt. 
+
+20. Thus far I know the truth, for the Delphians 
+told me. The Milesians add to the story, that 
+Periander son of Cypselus, being a close friend of 
+Thrasybulus who then was sovereign of Miletus, 
+learnt what reply the oracle had given to Alyattes 
+and sent a despatch to tell Thrasybulus, so that 
+thereby his friend should be forewarned and make 
+his plans accordingly. 
+
+21. Such is the Milesian story. Then, when the 
+Delphic reply was brought to Alyattes, straightway 
+he sent a herald to Miletus, offering to make a truce 
+with Thrasybulus and the Milesians during his 
+building of the temple. So the envoy went to 
+
+
+2 A small town or village near Miletus. 
+
+
+23 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἀπόστολος ἐς τὴν Μίλητον ἢ ἦν, Θρασύβουλος δὲ 
+σαφέως προπεπυσµένος πάντα λόγον, . καὶ εἰδὼς τὰ 
+᾽Αλυάττης μέλλοι ποιήσειν, μηχανᾶται τοιάδε" 
+ὅσος ἣν ἐν τῷ ἄστεϊ σῖτος καὶ ἑωυτοῦ D καὶ ἰδιωτικός, 
+τοῦτον πάντα .συγκομίσας ἐς τὴν ἀγορὴν προεῖπε 
+Μιλησίοισι, ἐπεὰν αὐτὸς σημήνῃ, τότε πίνειν τε 
+da καὶ κώμφ χρᾶσθαι ἐ ἐς ἀλλήλους. 
+
+. Ταῦτα δὲ ἐποίεέ τε καὶ προηγόρευε Θρα- 
+νο τῶνδε εἵνεκεν, ὅκως ἂν .δὴ 0 κἢρυξ ὁ 
+Σαρδιηνὸς ἰδών τε σωρὸν μέγαν σίτου κεχυμένον 
+καὶ τοὺς ἀνθρώπους ἐ ἐν εὐπαθείῃσι ἐ ἐόντας ἀγγείλῃ 
+᾽Αλυάττῃ' τὰ δὴ καὶ ἐγένετο. ὡς yàp δὴ ἰδών 
+τε ἐκεῖνα ὁ κῆρυξ καὶ εἴπας πρὸς ERGO μόνο 
+τοῦ Λυδοῦ τὰς ἐντολὰς ἀπῆλθε ἐς τὰς Σάρδις, ὡς 
+ἐγὼ πυνθάνομαι, δι οὐδὲν ἄλλο ἐγένετο ἡ διαλ- 
+λαγή. ἐλπίζων γὰρ ὁ ᾿Αλυάττης σιτοδείην τε 
+εἶναι ἰσχυρὴν ἐν τῇ Μιλήτῳ καὶ τὸν λεὼν τετρῦ- 
+σθαι ἐς τὸ ἔσχατον κακοῦ, ἤκουε τοῦ .κήρυκος 
+νοστήσαντος ἐκ τῆς Μιλήτου τοὺς ἐναντίους 
+λόγους ἢ ὡς αὐτὸς κατεδόκεε. μετὰ δὲ ἥ τε διαλ- 
+λαγή σφι ἐγένετο ἐπ᾽ ᾧ τε ξείνους ἀλλήλοισι 
+εἶναι κα συμμάχους, καὶ δύο τε ἀντὶ ἑνὸς νηοὺς 
+τῇ ᾿Αθηναίῃ .οἰκοδόμησε ὁ ᾽Αλυάττης ἐν τῇ 
+᾿Ασσησῷ, αὐτός τε ἐκ τῆς νούσου ἀνέστη. κατὰ 
+μὲν τὸν πρὸς Μιλησίους τε καὶ Θρασύβουλον 
+πόλεμον Αλυάττῃ ὧδε ἔσχε. 
+
+23. Περίανδρος δὲ ἦν Κυψέλου παῖς, οὗτος ὁ 
+τῷ Θρασυβούλῳ τὸ χρηστήριον μηνύσας" έτυ- 
+ράννευε δὲ ὁ Περίανδρος Κορίνθου" τῷ δὴ λέγουσι 
+Κορίνθιοι (ὁμολογέουσι δέ σφι Λέσβιοι) ἑ ἐν τῷ βίῳ 
+θῶμα μέγιστον παραστῆναι, ᾿Αρίονα τὸν Μηθυμ. 
+ναῖον ἐπὶ δελφῖνος ἐξενειχθέντα ἐπὶ Ταίναρον, 
+
+
+24 
+
+
+BOOK I. 21-23 
+
+
+Miletus. But Thrasybulus, being exactly forewarned 
+of the whole matter, and knowing what Alyattes 
+meant to do, devised the following plan: he brought 
+together into the market place all the food in the 
+city, from private stores and his own, and bade the 
+men of Miletus all drink and revel together when he 
+should give the word. 
+
+22. The intent of his so doing and commanding 
+was, that when the herald from Sardis saw a great 
+heap of food piled up, and the citizens making 
+metry, he might bring word of it to Alyattes: 
+and so it befell. The herald saw all this, gave 
+Thrasybulus the message he was charged by the 
+Lydian to deliver, and returned to Sardis; and this, 
+as far.as I can learn, was the single reason of the 
+reconciliation. For Alyattes had supposed that 
+there was great scarcity in Miletus and that the 
+people were reduced to the last extremity of misery ; 
+but now on his herald’s return from the town he 
+heard an account contrary to his expectations; so 
+presently the Lydians and Milesians ended the war 
+and agreed to be friends and allies, and Alyattes 
+built not one but two temples of Athene at 
+Assesos, and recovered of his sickness. Such is 
+the story of Alyattes’ war against Thrasybulus and 
+the Milesians. 
+
+23. Periander, who disclosed the oracle’s answer 
+to Thrasybulus, was the son of Cypselus, and sovereign 
+lord of Corinth. As the Corinthians and Lesbians 
+agree in relating, there happened to him a thing 
+which was the most marvellous in his life, namely, 
+the landing of Arion of Methymna on Taenarus, 
+borne thither by a dolphin. This Arion was 9 
+
+
+25 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἑόντα κιθαρῳδὸν τῶν τότε ἐόντων οὐδενὸς δεύ- 
+τερον, καὶ διθύραμβον πρῶτον ἀνθρώπων τῶν 
+ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν ποιήσαντά τε καὶ ὀνομάσαντα καὶ 
+διδάξαντα ἐν Κορίνθῳ. 
+
+94, Τοῦτον τὸν ᾿Αρίονα λέγουσι, τὸν πολλὸν 
+τοῦ χρόνου διατρίβοντα παρὰ Περιάνδρῳ ἐπιθυ- 
+μῆσαι πλῶσαι ἐς Ἰταλίην τε καὶ Σικελίην, È έργα- 
+σάμενον δὲ χρήματα μεγάλα θελῆσαι ὀπίσω ἐς 
+Κόρινθον ἀπικέσθαι. ὁρμᾶσθαι μέν νυν ἐκ Τάραν- 
+τος, πιστεύοντα δὲ οὐδαμοῖσι μᾶλλον ἢ Κορινθίοισι 
+μισθώσασθαι πλοῖον ἀνδρῶν Κορινθίων. τοὺς δὲ 
+ἐν τῷ πελάγεϊ ἐπιβουλεύειν τὸν ᾿Αρίονα ἐκβα- 
+λόντας ἔχειν τὰ χρήματα. τὸν δὲ συνέντα τοῦτο 
+λύσσεσθαι, χρήματα μέν σφι προϊέντα, γυχὴν δὲ 
+παραιτεύμενον. οὔκων δὴ πείθειν αὐτὸν τούτοισι, 
+ἀλλὰ κελεύειν τοὺς πορθμέας ἢ 7) αὐτὸν διαχρᾶσθαί 
+μιν, ὡς ἂν ταφῆς ἐν ὙΠ τύχῃ, ἢ ἐκπηδᾶν ἐς τὴν 
+θάλασσαν τὴν ταχίστην" ἀπειληθέντα δὴ τὸν 
+᾿Αρίονα ἐς ἀπορίην παραιτήσασθαι, ἐπειδή σφι 
+οὕτω δοκέοι, περιιδεῖν αὐτὸν ἐν τῇ σκευῇ πάση 
+στάντα ἐν τοῖσι ἑδωλίοισι ἀεῖσαι" ἀείσας δὲ 
+ὑπεδέκετο ἑωυτὸν κατεργάσασθαι. καὶ τοῖσι 
+ἐσελθεῖν γὰρ ἡδονὴν εἰ μέλλοιεν ἀκούσεσθαι τοῦ 
+ἀρίστου ἀνθρώπων. ἀοιδοῦ, ἀναχωρῆσαι ἐκ τῆς 
+πρύμνης ἐς μέσην νέα. τὸν δὲ ἐνδύντα τε πᾶσαν 
+τὴν σκευὴν καὶ λαβόντα τὴν κιθάρην, στάντα ἐν 
+τοῖσι ἑδωλίοισι διεξελθεῖν νόμον τὸν ὄρθιον, TENEU- 
+τῶντος δὲ τοῦ νόµου pirat μιν ἐς τὴν θάλασσαν 
+ἑωυτὸν ὡς εἶχε σὺν τῇ σκευῇ πάσῃ. καὶ τοὺς μὲν 
+ἀποπλέειν ἐς Κόρινθον, τὸν δὲ δελφῖνα λέγουσε 
+ὑπολαβόντα ἐξενεῖκαι ἐπὶ Ταίναρον. ἀποβάντα 
+
+
+26 
+
+
+BOOK I. 23-24 
+
+
+lyre-player second to none in that age; he was the 
+first man, as far as we know, to compose and name the 
+dithyramb! which he afterwards taught at Corinth. 
+
+24. Thus then, the story runs: for the most part 
+he lived at the court of Periander; then he formed 
+the plan of voyaging to Italy and Sicily, whence, 
+after earning much money, he was minded to return 
+to Corinth. Having especial trust in men of that 
+city, he hired a Corinthian ship to carry him from 
+Taras.? But when they were out at sea, the crew 
+iie to cast Arion overboard and take his money. 
+
+iscovering the plot, he earnestly entreated them, 
+offering them all his money if they would but spare 
+his life; but the sailors would not listen to him; he 
+must, they said, either kill himself and so receive 
+burial on land, or straightway cast himself into the 
+sea. In this extremity Arion besought them, 
+seeing that such was their will, that they would 
+suffer him to stand on the poop with all his singing 
+robes about him and sing; and after his song, so 
+he promised, he would make away with himself. 
+The men, well pleased at the thought of hearing 
+the best singer in the world, drew away from the 
+stern amidships; Arion, putting on all his adorn- 
+ment and taking his lyre, stood up on the poop 
+and sang the “Shrill Strain," and at its close 
+threw himself without more ado into the sea, clad 
+in his robes. So the crew sailed away to Corinth ; 
+but a dolphin (so the story goes) took Arion on 
+his back and bore him to Taenarus There he 
+
+
+1 The dithyramb was a kind of dance-musie particularly 
+associated with the cult of Dionysus. 
+? Tarentum. 
+3 The ὄρθιος νόμο: was & high-pitched (and apparently very 
+well-known) song or hymn in honour of Apollo. 
+27 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δὲ αὐτὸν χωρέειν ἐς Κόρινθον σὺν τῇ σκευῇ, καὶ 
+ἀπικόμενον ἀπηγέεσθαι πᾶν τὸ γεγονός. Περί- 
+avdpov δὲ ὑπὸ ἀπιστίης ᾿Αρίονα μὲν ἐν φυλακῇ 
+ἔχειν οὐδαμῇ, μετιέντα, ἀνακῶς δὲ -ἔχειν τῶν 
+πορθμέων. ὡς δὲ ἄρα παρεῖναι αὐτούς, KNN- 
+θέντας ἱστορέεσθαι εἴ τι λέγοιεν περὶ ᾿Αρίονος. 
+φαμένων δὲ ἐκείνων ὡς εἴη τε σῶς περὶ Ἰταλίην 
+Kab ptv εὖ πρήσσοντα λίποιεν ἐν Τάραντι, ἐπι- 
+φανῆναί σφι τὸν ᾿Αρίονα. ὥσπερ ἔχων ἐξεπήδησε' 
+καὶ τοὺς ἐκπλαγέντας οὐκ ἔχειν ἔτι ἐλεγχομένους 
+ἀρνέεσθαι. ταῦτα μέν νυν Κορίνθιοί τε καὶ 
+Λέσβιοι λέγουσι, καὶ ᾿Αρίονος ἐστὶ ἀνάθημα 
+χάλκεον οὐ μέγα ἐπὶ Ταινάρῳ, ἐπὶ δελφῖνος 
+ἐπεὼν ἄνθρωπος. 
+
+25. ᾿Αλυάττης δὲ ὁ Λυδὸς τὸν πρὸς Μιλησίους 
+πόλεμον διενείκας μετέπειτα τελευτᾷ, βασιλεύσας 
+ἔτεα ἑπτὰ καὶ πεντήκοντα, ἀνέθηκε δὲ ἐκφυγὼν 
+τὴν νοῦσον δεύτερος οὗτος τῆς οἰκίης ταύτης ἐς 
+Δελφοὺς κρητῆρά τε ἀργύρεον μέγαν καὶ ὑποκρη- 
+τηρίδιον σιδήρεον κολλητόν, θέης ἄξιον διὰ mav- 
+των τῶν ἐν Δελφοῖσι ἀναθημάτων, Γλαύκου τοῦ 
+Χίου ποίημα, ὃς μοῦνος δὴ πάντων ἀνθρώπων 
+
+e KOU OV κόλλησιν ἐξεῦρε. 
+
+26. Τελευτήσαντος δὲ ᾽Αλυάττεω ἐξεδέξατο 
+τὴν βασιληίην Κροῖσος Ò ᾿Αλυάττεω, ἐτέων ἐὼν 
+we ἡλικίην πέντε καὶ τριήκοντα" ὃς δὴ Ἑλλήνων 
+
+πρώτοισι ἐπεθήκατο ᾿Εφεσίοισι. ἔνθα δὴ οἱ 
+᾿Εφέσιοι πολιορκεόµενοι ÚT αὐτοῦ ἀνέθεσαν τὴν 
+πόλιν τῇ ᾿Αρτέμιδι, ἐξάψαντες ἐκ τοῦ νηοῦ 
+σχοινίον ἐς τὸ τεῖχος. ἔστι δὲ μεταξὺ τῆς τε 
+παλαιῆς πόλεος, ἣ τότε .ἐπολιορκέετο, καὶ τοῦ 
+νηοῦ ἑπτὰ στάδιοι. πρώτοισι μὲν δὴ τούτοισι 
+
+
+28 QO e^ a 
+
+
+BOOK I. 24-26 
+
+
+landed, went to Corinth in his singing robes, and 
+when he came told all that had befallen him. Peri- 
+ander, not believing the tale, put him in close 
+ward and kept careful wateh for the coming of the 
+sailors. When they came they were called and 
+questioned, what news they brought .of Arion, and 
+they replied that he was safe in the parts of Italy, 
+and that they had left him sound and well at Taras: 
+when, behold, they were confronted with Arion, 
+just as he was when he leapt from the ship ; whereat 
+they were amazed, and could no more deny what 
+was proved against them. Such is the story told 
+by the Corinthians and Lesbians. There is moreover 
+a little bronze monument to Arion on Taenarus, the 
+figure of a man riding upon a dolphin. 
+
+25. So Alyattes the Lydian, having finished his 
+war with the Milesians, died after a reign of fifty- 
+seven years. He was the second of his family to 
+make an offering to Delphi—and this was a thank- 
+offering for his recovery—of a great silver bowl on a 
+stand of welded iron. This is the most notable 
+among all the offerings at Delphi, and is the work ot 
+Glaucus the Chian, the only man of that age who 
+discovered how to weld iron. 
+
+26. After the death of Alyattes Croesus his son 
+came to the throne,! being then thirty-five years of 
+age. The first Greeks whom he attacked were the 
+Ephesians. These, being besieged by him, dedicated 
+their city to Artemis; this they did by attaching 
+a rope to the city wall from the temple of the 
+goddess, standing seven furlongs away from the 
+ancient city, which was then being besieged. These 
+
+
+1 Croesus’ reign began in 560 B.c., probably. 
+29 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐπεχείρησε ὁ Κροῖσος, μετὰ δὲ ἐν uépei ἑκάστοισι 
+Ιώνων τε καὶ Αἰολέων, ἄλλοισι ἄλλας αἰτίας 
+ἐπιφέρων, τῶν μὲν ἐδύνατο μέζονας παρευρίσκειν, 
+µέζονα ἐπαιτιώμενος, τοῖσι δὲ αὐτῶν καὶ φαῦλα 
+ἐπιφέρων. 
+
+27. Ὡς δὲ ἄρα οἱ ἐν τῇ ᾿Ασίῃ "Ελληνες κατε- 
+στράφατο ἐς φόρου ἀπαγωγήν, τὸ ἐνθεῦτεν ἐπενόεε 
+νέας ποιησάμενος ἐπιχειρέειν τοῖσι νησιώτῃσι. 
+ἐόντων δέ οἱ πάντων ἑτοίμων ἐς τὴν ναυπηγίην, οἳ 
+μὲν Βίαντα λέγουσι τὸν Πριηνέα ἀπικόμενον ἐς 
+Σάρδις, ot δὲ Πιττακὸν τὸν Μυτιληναῖον, εἰρο- 
+μένου Κροίσου εἴ τι εἴη νεώτερον περὶ τὴν 
+Ἑλλάδα, εἰπόντα τάδε καταπαῦσαι τὴν ναυ- 
+πηγίην' “Q βασιλεῦ, νησιῶται ἵππον συνω- 
+νέονται μυρίην, [ἐς Σάρδις τε καὶ ἐπὶ σὲ, ἐν νόῳ 
+ἔχοντες στρατεύεσθαι.᾽ Κροῖσον δὲ ἐλπίσαντα 
+λέγειν ἐκεῖνον ἀληθέα εἰπεῖν ‘Al γὰρ τοῦτο θεοὶ 
+ποιήσειαν ἐπὶ νόον νησιώτησι, ἐλθεῖν ἐπὶ Λυδῶν 
+παῖδας σὺν ἵπποισι; τὸν δὲ ὑπολαβόντα φάναι 
+**() βασιλεῦ, προθύμως por φαίνεαι εὔξασθαι 
+νησιώτας ἱππευομένους λαβεῖν ἐν ἠπείρῳ, οἰκότα 
+ἐλπίζων. νησιώτας δὲ τύ δοκέεις εὔχεσθαι ἄλλο 
+ἤ, ἐπείτε τάχιστα ἐπύθοντό σε μέλλοντα ἐπὶ 
+σφίσι ναυπηγέεσθαι νέας, λαβεῖν ἀρώμενοι 
+Λυδοὺς ἐν θαλάσσῃ, ἵνα ὑπὲρ τῶν ἐν τῇ ἠπείρῳ 
+οἰκημένων Ἑλλήνων τίσωνταί σε, τοὺς σὺ δου- 
+λώσας ἔχεις; κάρτα τε ἡσθῆναι Κροῖσον τῷ 
+ἐπιλόγῳ καί οἱ, προσφυέως γὰρ δόξαι λέγειν, 
+πειθόμενον παύσασθαι τῆς ναυπηγύης. καὶ οὕτω 
+τοῖσι τὰς νήσους οἰκήμένοισι Ἴωσι ξεινίην 
+συνεθήκατο. 
+
+28. Χρόνου δὲ ἐπιγινομένου καὶ κατεστραμ- 
+
+
+39 
+
+
+BOOK 1. 26-38 
+
+
+were the first whom Croesus attacked ; afterwards he 
+made war on the Ionian and Aeolian cities in turn, 
+each on its separate indictment: he found graver 
+charges where he could, but sometimes alleged very 
+paltry grounds of offence. 
+
+27. Then, when he had subdued and made tributary 
+to himself all the Asiatic Greeks of the mainland, he 
+planned to build ships and attack the islanders; but 
+when his preparations for shipbuilding were ready, 
+cither Bias of Priene or Pittacus of Mytilene (the 
+story is told of both) came to Sardis, and being 
+asked by Croesus for news about Hellas, put an 
+end to the shipbuilding by giving the following 
+answer: “King, the islanders are. buying ten 
+thousand horse, with intent to march against you 
+to Sardis.” Croesus, thinking that he spoke the 
+truth, said: * Would that the gods may put it in 
+the minds of the island men to come on horseback 
+against the sons of the Lydians!" Then the other 
+answered and said: ** King, I see that you earnestly 
+pray that you may catch the islanders riding horses 
+on the mainland, and what you expect is but natural. 
+And the islanders, now they have heard that you 
+are building ships to attack them therewith, think 
+you that they pray for aught else than that they may 
+catch Lydians on the seas, and thereby be avenged 
+on you for having enslaved the Greeks who dwell 
+on the mainland?" Croesus was well pleased with 
+this conclusion, for it seemed to him that the man 
+spoke but reasonably; so he took the advice and 
+built no more ships. Thus it came about that he 
+made friends of the Ionian islanders. 
+
+28. As time went on, Croesus subdued well-nigh 
+
+
+31 
+
+
+ee: g 
+
+
+vu 
+DAMT 
+αμ; 
+
+
+N 
+er t 
+(UO. 
+
+
+{τος γέονται ἐς Σάρδις ἀκμαξούσας TX 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μένων σχεδὸν πάντων τῶν.ἐντὸς " AXvos ποταμοῦ 
+[4 
+
+οἰκημένων: πλὴν γὰρ Κιλίκων καὶ Λυκίων τοὺς 
+
+ἄλλους πάντας UT ἑωυτῷ εἶχε καταστρεψάμενος 
+
+
+ὁ Κροῖσος. εἰσὶ δὲ οἵδε, Λυδοί, Φρύγες, Μυσοί,' 
+
+
+Μαριανδυνοί, Χάλυβες, Παφλαγόνες, Θρήικες οἱ 
+4 b , A s 4 
+Θυνοί τε καὶ Βιθυνοί, Κᾶρες, Ἴωνες, Δωριέες, 
+Αἰολέες, Πάμφυλοι Ι( κατεστραμμένων δὲ κούτων 
+` L , So , ^ l > E 
+καὶ (rpocemixtouevoy Κροί oy Av We 
+
+
+Ot TE 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+e , 9 A € / ’ A e^ E) 
+, οἱ πάντες ἐκ τῆς “EXAdSos σοφισταί, ot τοῦτον ς ^ 
+t τὸν χρόνον ἐτύγχανον ἐόντες, ὡς ἕκαστος αὐτῶ) Ἀν 
+47 ἀπικνέοιτο, καὶ δὴ καὶ Σόλων ἀνὴρ ᾿Αθηναῖος, ὃς 
+
+
+, ΄ / r ΄ , [ή 
+Αθηναίοισι νόμους κελεύσασι ποιήσας ἀπεδήμησε 
+oo 
+
+
+ἔτεα δέκα, κατὰ δ δ Crpédae eqs Em 
+
+
+Y 
+
+
+δὴ μή τινα τῶν νόμων ἀναγκασθῇ λῦσαι Gave“ MP. 
+
+
+c0 \ 9 \ b , H / ^ » A ^ NO 
+Gero.) αὐτοὶ γὰρ οὐκ οἷοί τε ἦσαν αὐτὸ ποιῆσαι 
+uU e 
+᾿Αθηναῖοι: ὀρκίοισι γὰρ μεγάλοισι prd ita 
+\ 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+δέκα ἔτεα χρήσεσθαι νόμοισι τοὺς ἄν σφι Σόλων 
+θῆται. 
+30. Αὐτῶν δὴ ὧν τούτων καὶ τῆς θεωρίης ἐκδη- 
+ε 
+μήσας ὁ Σόλων εἵνεκεν ἐς Αἴγυπτον ἀπίκετο παρὰ 
+"μασιν καὶ «δὴ καὶ ἐς Σάρδις παρὰ Κροῖσον. 
+ἀπικόμενος δὲ ἐξεινίζετο ἐν τοῖσι βασιληίοισι ὑπὸ 
+^ , 
+τοῦ Κροίσου" μετὰ δὲ ἡμέρῃ τρίτῃ ἢ τετάρτῃ 
+κελεύσαντος Κροίσου τὸν Σόλωνα θεράποντες 
+περιῆγον κατὰ τοὺς θησαυρούς, καὶ ἐπεδείκνυσαν 
+πάντα ἐόντα μεγάλα τε καὶ ὄλβια. θεησάμενον 
+δέ μιν τὰ πάντα καὶ σκεψάμενον. ὥς οἱ κατὰ 
+καιρὸν ἦν, εἴρετο ὁ Κροῖσος τάδε. “' Ξἰεῖνε 
+᾿Αθηναῖε, παρ᾽ ἡμέας γὰρ περὶ σέο λόγος ἀπῖκται 
+1 εἰσὶ... Πάμφυλοι and καὶ. . . Λυδοῖσι bracketed by 
+Stein. C 
+
+
+32 | 
+
+
+BOOK I. 28-30 
+
+
+all the nations west of the Halys and held them 
+in subjection, except only the Cilicians and Lycians : 
+the rest, Lydians, Phrygians, Mysians, Mariandynians, 
+Chalybes, Paphlagonians, Thymians and Bithynians 
+(who are Thracians), Carians, Ionians, Dorians, Aeol- 
+ians, Pamphylians, were subdued and became subjects 
+of Croesus like the Lydians, and Sardis was at the 
+height of its wealth. 29. There came to the city all the 
+teachers from Hellas who then lived, in this or that 
+manner; and among them came Solon of Athens: he, 
+having made laws for the Athenians at their request, 
+left his home for ten years and set out on a voyage 
+to see the world, as he said. This he did, lest he 
+should be compelled to repeal any of the laws he 
+had made, since the Athenians themselves could not 
+repeal them, for they were bound by solemn oaths 
+to abide for ten years by such laws as Solon should 
+make. 
+
+80. For this reason, and to see the world, Solon 
+left Athens and visited Amasis in Egypt and Croesus 
+at Sardis: and when he had come, Croesus enter- 
+tained him in his palace. Now on the third or fourth 
+day after his coming Croesus bade his servants lead 
+Solon round among his treasures, and they showed 
+him all that was there, the greatness and the prosper- 
+ous state of it; and when he had seen and considered 
+all, Croesus when occasion served thus questioned 
+him : * Our Athenian guest, we have heard much of 
+
+
+33 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+` . , ο 1 ^ e^ . ΄ 
+πολλὸς καὶ σοφίης εἵνεκεν ! τῆς σῆς καὶ πλάνης, 
+ε ^^ . / e" > 
+ὡς φιλοσοφέων γῆν πολλὴν θεωρίης εἵνεκεν ἐπε- 
+λήλυθας- νῦν ὧν ἐπειρέσθαι µε ἵμερος ἐπῆλθέ σε 
+3? 
+εἴ τινα ἤδη πάντων εἶδες ὀλβιώτατον. ὃ μὲν 
+[4 4 , , 3 ’ ^ 
+
+ἐλπίζων εἶναι ἀνθρώπων ὀλβιώτατος ταῦτα 
+3 ΄ / Or € UA 3 `~ 
+ἐπειρώτα' Σόλων δὲ οὐδὲν ὑποθωπεύσας ἀλλὰ 
+τῷ ἐόντι χρησάμενος λέγει “ Ὢ βασιλεῦ, Τέλλον 
+᾿ΑΑθηναῖον.᾽ ἀποθωμάσας δὲ Κροῖσος τὸ λεχθὲν 
+ν * , εε / on / Té 
+εἴρετο ἐπιστρεφέως “Koin δὴ κρίνεις Τέλλον εἶναι 
+ὀλβιώτατον: ὃ δὲ εἶπε “TEAM τοῦτο μὲν τῆς 
+πόλιος εὖ ἡκούσηςυπαῖδες ἦσαν καλοί τε κἀγαθοί, 
+καί σφι εἶδε ἅπαδι τέκνα ἐκγενόμενα καὶ πάντα 
+παραμείναντα' τοῦτο δὲ τοῦ βίου εὖ ος 
+-τὰ παρ᾽ mui), τελευτὴ τοῦ βίου λαμπροτᾶτη 
+ἐπεγένετο: γενομένης γὰρ ᾿Αθηναίοισι μάχης πρὸς | 
+τοὺς ἀστυγείτονας ἐν Ελευσῖνι, βοηθήσας καὶ 
+τροπὴν ποιήσας τῶν πολεμίων ἀπέθανε κάλλιστα, 
+καί μιν ᾿Αθηναῖοι δημοσίῃ τε ἔθαψαν αὐτοῦ τῇ 
+περ ἔπεσε καὶ ἐτίμησαν μεγάλως. 
+
+31. Ὡς δὲ τὰ κατὰ τὸν Τέλλον προετρέψατο 
+ε ^ 
+ὁ Σόλων τὸν Κροῖσον εἴπας πολλά τε καὶ ὄλβια, 
+
+> ^ 
+
+ἐπειρώτα τίνα δεύτερον yet ἐκεῖνον ἴδοι, δοκέων 
+
+
+πάγχυ δευτερεῖα Ἰγῶν οἴσεσθαι. ὃ ὃ εἶπε 
+“«Κλέοβίν τε καὶ Βίτωνα, »τᾳῄτοισι γὰρ; ἐοῦσι 
+β -.ερταψτοισι γὰρ; goo 
+
+
+, -9 , " 14 ^ 
+γένος ᾿Αργείοισι βίος τε ἄρκέων ὑπῆν, καὶ πρὸς 
+
+
+τούτῳ ῥώμη σώματος τοιήδε: ἀεθλοφόροι τε 
+
+ἀμφότεροι ὁμοίως ἦσαν, καὶ δὴ καὶ λέγεται δὸς 
+
+ὁ λόγος, ἐούσης ὁρτῆς τῇ “Hon τοῖσι ᾿Αργείοισι 
+
+ἔδεε πάντως τὴν μητέρα αὐτῶν ζεύγεϊ κομισθῆναι 
+
+ἐς τὸ ἱρόν, οἱ δέ σφι βόες ἐκ τοῦ ἀγροῦ οὐ παρεγί- 
+
+νοντο ἐν ὥρῃ' ἐκκληιόμενοι δὲ τῇ ὥρῃ οἱ νεηνίαι 
+1 Stein brackets εἵνεκεν, 
+
+
+34 
+
+
+BOOK L. 30-31 
+
+
+you, by reason of your wisdom and your wanderings, 
+how that you have travelled far to seek knowledge 
+and to see the world. Now therefore I am fain 
+to ask you, if you have ever seen a man more blest 
+than all his fellows.” So Croesus inquired, supposing 
+himself to be blest beyond all men. But Solon 
+spoke the truth without flattery: “Such an one, 
+O King,” he said, * I have seen—Tellus of Athens." 
+Croesus wondered at this, and sharply asked Solon 
+* How do you judge Tellus to be most blest?" Solon 
+replied: * Tellus city was prosperous, and he was 
+the father of noble sons, and he saw children born 
+to all of them and their state well stablished ; more- 
+over, having then as much wealth as a man may 
+among us, he crowned his life with a most glorious 
+death: for in a battle between the Athenians and 
+their neighbours at Eleusis he attacked and routed 
+the enemy and most nobly there died; and the 
+Athenians gave him public burial where he fell and 
+paid him great honour." 
+
+31. Now. when Solon had roused the curiosity of 
+Croesus by recounting the many ways in which Tellus 
+was blest, the king further asked him whom he placed 
+second after Tellus, thinking that assuredly the 
+second prize at least would be his. Solon answered: 
+* Cleobis and Biton. These were Argives, and 
+besides sufficient wealth they had such strength of 
+body as I will show. Both were prizewinners ; and 
+this story too is related of them. There was a 
+festival of Here toward among the Argives, and 
+their mother must by all means be drawn to the 
+temple by a yoke of oxen. But the oxen did not 
+come in time from the fields; so the young men, 
+being thus thwarted by lack of time, put themselves 
+
+
+35 
+
+
+ESSEAL 
+
+
+£ Dx p» 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὑποδύντες αὐτοὶ ὑπὸ τὴν ξεύγλην εἶλκον τὴν 
+ἅμαξαν, ἐπὶ τῆς ἁμάξης δέ σφι ὠχέετο ἡ μήτηρ' 
+σταδίους δὲ πέντε καὶ τεσσεράκοντα διακομί- 
+σαντες ἀπίκοντο ἐς τὸ ἱρόν. ταῦτα δέ σφι ποιή- 
+σασι καὶ -ὀφθεῖσι ú ὑπὸ τῆς πανηγύριος τελευτὴ τοῦ 
+βίου ἀρίστη ἐπεγένετο, διέδεξέ τε ἐν τούτοισι 
+ὁ θεὸς ὡς ἄμεινον εἴη ἀνθρώπῳ τεθνάναι μᾶλλον 
+7 ζώειν. ᾿Αργεῖοι μὲν γὰρ περιστάντες ἐμακάριξον 
+τῶν νεηνιέων τὴν ῥώμην, αἱ δὲ ᾿Αργεῖαι τὴν 
+μητέρα αὐτῶν, οἵων τέκνων ἐκύρησε' ἡ δὲ μήτηρ 
+περιχαρὴς ἐοῦσα τῷ τε ἔργῳ καὶ τῇ φήμῃ, στᾶσα 
+ἀντίον τοῦ ἀγάλματος εὔχετο Κλεόβι τε καὶ 
+Βίτωνι τοῖσι ἑωυτῆς τέκνοισι, οἵ μιν ἐτίμησαν 
+μεγάλως, Thy θεὸν δοῦναι τὸ ἀνθρώπῳ τυχεῖν 
+ἄριστον ἐστί. μετὰ ταύτην δὲ τὴν εὐχὴν ὡς 
+ἔθυσάν τε καὶ εὐωχήθησαν, κατακοιμηθέντες ἐν 
+αὐτῷ τῷ ἱρῷ οἱ νεηνίαι οὐκέτι ἀνέστησαν ἀλλ᾽ 
+
+76i τούτῳ ἔσχοντο. ᾿Αργεῖοι δὲ σφέων 
+"εξεόύας ποιησάμενοι ἀνέθεσαν ἐς Δελφοὺς ὡς 
+ἀριστῶν γενομένων. 
+
+32. Σόλων μὲν δὴ εὖδαεμονίης δευτερεῖα ἔ ἔνεμε 
+τούτοισι, Κροῖσος δὲ σπερχθεὶς εἶπε “"Ὦ ξεῖνε 
+᾿Αθηναῖς, ἡ ἡ è ἡμετέρη εὐδαιμονίη οὕτω τοι ἀπέρ- 
+ριπται ἐς τὸ μηδὲν ὥστε οὐδὲ ἰδιωτέων ἀνδρῶν 
+ἀξίους. ἡμέας ἐποίησ ς;) ὃ δὲ εἶπε OQ Κροῖσε, 
+ἐπιστάμενόν με τὸ θεῖον πᾶν ἐὸν φθονερόν τε καὶ 
+ταραχῶδες ἐπειρωτᾷς ἀνθρωπηίων πρηγμάτων 
+πέρι. ἐν γὰρ τῷ μακρῷ χρόνῳ πολλὰ μὲν ἐστὶ 
+ἰδεῖν τὰ μή τις ἐθέλει, πολλὰ δὲ καὶ παθεῖν. ἐς 
+γὰρ ἑβδομήκοντα ἔ ἔτεα οὖρον τῆς Sons ἀνθρώπῳ 
+προτίθημι. οὗτοι ἐόντες ἐνιαυτοὶ ἑβδομήκοντα 
+παρέ ονται͵ ἡμέρας διηκοσίας καὶ πεντακισχιλίας 
+καὶ δισμυρίας, ἐμβολίμου μηνὸς μὴ γινομένου: εἰ 
+46 
+
+
+BOOK I. 31-32 
+
+
+to the yoke and drew the carriage with their mother 
+sitting thereon: for five and forty furlongs they 
+drew it till they came to.the temple. Having done 
+this, and been seen by the assembly, they made a 
+most excellent end of their lives, and the god showed 
+by these men how that it was better for a man to die 
+than to live. For the men of Argos came round 
+and gave the youths joy of their strength, and so 
+likewise did the women to their mother, for the 
+excellence of her sons. She then in her joy at 
+what was done and said, came before the image 
+of the goddess and prayed that her sons Cleobis 
+and Biton, who had done such great honour to the 
+goddess, should be given the best boon that a 
+man may receive. After the prayer the young men 
+sacrificed and ate of the feast ; then they lay down 
+to sleep in the temple itself and never rose up 
+more, but here ended their lives. Then the Argives 
+made and set up at Delphi images of them because 
+of their excellence." 
+
+32. So Solon gave to Cleobis and Biton the second 
+prize of happiness. But Croesus said in anger, “ Guest 
+from Athens! is our prosperity, then, held by you 
+so worthless that you match us not even with 
+common men?" “Croesus,” said Solon, “you ask 
+me concerning the lot of man; well I know how 
+jealous is Heaven and how it loves to trouble us. 
+In a man's length of days he may see and suffer 
+many things that he much mislikes. For I set tke 
+limit of man's life at seventy years ; in these seventy 
+are days twenty-five thousand and two hundred, if 
+we count not the intercalary month.! But if every. 
+
+1 The ‘‘intercalary” month is a month periodically in- 
+serted to make the series of solar and calendar years 
+eventually correspond. But Herodotus' reckoning here would 
+make the average length of & year 375 days. 
+
+37 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δὲ δὴ ἐθελήσει τοὔτερον τῶν ἐτέων μηνὶ μακρό- 
+τερον γίνεσθαι, ἵνα δὴ αἱ ὧραι συμβαίνωσι 
+παραγινόμεναι ἐς τὸ δέον, μῆνες μὲν παρὰ τὰ 
+ἑβδομήκοντα ἔτεα οἱ ἐμβόλιμοι γίνονται τριή- 
+κοντα πέντε, ἡμέραι δὲ ἐκ τῶν μηνῶν τούτων χίλιαι 
+πεντήκοντα. τουτέων τῶν ἁπασέων ἡμερέων τῶν 
+ἐς τὰ ἑβδομήκοντα ἔτεα, ἐουσέων πεντήκοντα 
+καὶ διηκοσιέων gai ἑξακισχιλιέων καὶ l δισµυριέων, 
+ἡ ἑτέρη αὐτέων τῇ ἑτέρῃ ἡμέρῃ τὸ παράπαν οὐδὲν 
+ὅμοιον προσάγει πρῆγμα. οὕτω ὧν Κροῖσε πᾶν 
+ἐστὶ ἄνθρωπος συμφορή. ἐμοὶ δὲ σὺ καὶ πλουτέειν 
+μέγα φαίνεαι καὶ «βασιλεὺς πολλῶν εἶναι -ἀνθρώ- 
+πων" ἐκεῖνο δὲ τὸ εἴρεό με, οὔκω σε ἐγὼ λέγω, 
+πρὶν τελευτήσαντα καλῶς τὸν αἰῶνα πύθωμαι. 
+οὐ γάρ πι ὁ μέγα πλούσιος &XXov | τοῦ ἐπ᾽ ἡμέρην 
+ἔχοντος) ὀλβιώτερος ἐ ἐστί, εἰ μή οἱ τύχη ἐπίσποιτο 
+πάντα καλὰ ἔχοντα ev τελευτῆσαι τὸν βίον. 
+πολλοὶ μὲν γὰ οδάπλρυτα ἀνθρώπων ἀνόλβιοι 
+εἰσί, πολλοὶ δὲ μούνων ἔχδντες βίου εὐτυχέες. ὁ 
+
+μὲν δὴ μέγα πλούσιος ἀνόλβιος δὲ δυοῖσι προέχει 
+τοῦ εὐτυχέος μοῦνον, οὗτος δὲ τοῦ πλουσίου καὶ 
+ἀνόλβου πολλοῖσι ὃ μὲν ἐπιθυμίην ἐκτελέσαι καὶ 
+ἄτην μεγάλην προσπεσοῦσαν ἐνεῖκαι δυνατώτερος, 
+ὃ δὲ τοῖσιδε ὧπροέχει ἐκείνου" ἄτην μὲν καὶ ἐπι- 
+θυμίην οὔκ ὁμοίως δυνατὸς ἐκείνῳ ἐνεῖκαι, ταῦτα 
+δὲ ἡ εὐτυχίη οἱ ἀπερύκει, ἄπηρος δὲ ἐστί, ἄνουσος, 
+ἀπαθὴς κακῶν, εὔπαις, , εὐειδής. ei δὲ πρὸς 
+τούτοισι ἔτι τελευτήσει τὸν βίον εὖ, οὗτος ἐκεῖνος 
+τὸν σὺ ζητέεις, ὁ ὄλβιος κεκλῆσθαι ἄξιος ἐστί: 
+πρὶν ὃ ἂν τελευτήσῃ, ἐπισχεῖν, μηδὲ καλέειν κω 
+ὄλβιον GAN εὐτυχέα. τὰ πάντα μέν νυν ταῦτα 
+
+
+38 
+
+
+BOOK I. 32 
+
+
+second year be lengthened by a month so that the 
+seasons and the calendar may rightly accord, then 
+the intercalary months are five and thirty, over and 
+above the seventy years: and the days of these 
+months are one thousand and fifty; so then all 
+the days together of the seventy years are seen 
+to be twenty-six thousand two hundred and fifty ; 
+and one may wellsay that no one of all these days 
+is like another in that which it brings. 'Thus then, 
+Croesus, the whole of man is but chance. Now if I 
+am to speak of you, I say that I see you very rich 
+and the king of many men. But I cannot yet 
+answer your question, before I hear that you have 
+ended your life well. For he who is very rich is 
+not more blest than he who has but enough for 
+the day, unless fortune so attend him that he ends 
+his life well, having all good things about him. 
+Many men of great wealth are unblest, and many 
+that have no great substance are fortunate. | Now 
+the very rich man who is yet unblest has but two 
+advantages over the fortunate man, but the fortunate 
+man has many advantages over the rich but unblest: | 
+for this latter is the stronger to accomplish his desire 
+and to bear the stroke of great calamity; but these 
+are the advantages of the fortunate man, that 
+though he be not so strong as the other to deal 
+with calamity and desire, yet these are kept far 
+from him by his good fortune, and he is free from 
+deformity, sickness, and all evil, and happy in his 
+children and his comeliness. If then such a man 
+besides all this shall also end his life well, then he 
+is the man whom you, seek, and is worthy to be 
+called blest; but we must wait till he be dead, 
+and call him not yet blest, but fortunate. Now 
+
+
+39 
+
+
+box 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+συλλαβεῖν ἄνθρωπον ἔοντα ἀδύνατον ἐστί, ὥσπερ 
+χώρη οὐδεμία καταρκέει πάντα ἑωυτῇ παρέχουσα, 
+3 \ ὁ X» e 4 Ν 3 ’ ^ E! 
+ἀλλὰ ἄλλο μὲν ἔχει ἑτέρου δὲ ἐπιδέεται: ἣ δὲ ἂν 
+τὰ πλεῖστα ἔχη, αὕτη ἀρίστη. ws δὲ καὶ àv- 
+θρώπου σῶμα êv οὐδὲν αὔταρκες ἐστί' τὸ μὲν γάρ 
+» x \ 3 , 3 ^ . 3 ^ ^ 
+ἔχει, ἄλλου δὲ ἐνδεές ἐστι" ὃς Ò ἂν αὐτῶν πλεῖστα 
+ἔχων διατελέῃ καὶ ἔπειτα τελευτήσῃ εὐχαρίστως 
+τὸν βίον, οὗτος παρ ἐμοὶ τὸ οὔνομα τοῦτο ὦ 
+βασιλεῦ δίκαιος ἐστὶ φέρεσθαι. σκοπέειν δὲ χρὴ 
+παντὸς χρήματος τὴ: τελευτήν, κῇ ἀποβήσεται" 
+
+- ` A e » e ` 
+πολλοῖσι yao δὴ ὑποδέξας ὄλβον ὁ θεὸς προρ- 
+ρίζους ἀνέτρεψε." 
+
+33. Γαῦτα λέγων τῷ Κροίσῳ οὔ κως οὔτε 
+ἐχαρίξετο, οὔτε λόγου μιν ποιησάμενος οὐδενὸς 
+ἀποπέμπεται, κάρτα δόξας ἀμαθέα εἶναι, ὃς τὰ 
+παρεόντα ἀγαθὰ μετεὶς τὴν τελευτὴν παντὸς 
+
+€ n^ 
+χρήματος ὁρᾶν ἐκέλευε. 
+
+34. Μετὰ δὲ Σόλωνα οἰχόμενον ἔλαβε ἐκ θεοῦ 
+νέμεσις μεγάλη Κροῖσον, ὡς εἰκάσαι, ὅτι ἐνόμισε 
+ἑωυτὸν εἶναι ἀνθρώπων ἁπάντων ὀλβιώτατον. 
+αὐτίκα δέ οἱ εὔδοντι ἐπέστη ὄνειρος, ὅς οἱ τὴν 
+ἀληθείην ἔφαινε τῶν μελλόντων γενέσθαι κακῶν 
+κατὰ τὸν παῖδα. ἦσαν δὲ τῷ Κροίσῳ δύο παῖδες, 
+τῶν οὕτερος μὲν διέφθαρτο, ἦν γὰρ δὴ κωφός, ὁ δὲ 
+ἕτερος τῶν ἡλίκων μακρῷ τὰ πάντα πρῶτος' 
+
+7 / et ^ L4 ^ & 4 ` v 
+οὔνομα δέ οἱ ἦν Ατυς. τοῦτον δὴ ὧν τὸν “ATV 
+σημαίνει τῷ Κροίσῳ ὁ ὄνειρος, ὡς ἀπολέει μιν 
+
+9 - , + 9 / [4 
+αἰχμῇ σιδηρέῃ βληθέντα. ὃ δ᾽ ἐπείτε ἐξηγέρθη 
+καὶ ἑωυτῷ λόγον ἔδωκε, καταρρωδήσας τὸν ὄνειρον 
+ἄγεται μὲν τῷ παιδὶ γυναῖκα, ἑωθότα δὲ στρατη” 
+γέειν μιν τῶν Λυδῶν οὐδαμῇ ἔτι ἐπὶ τοιοῦτο 
+πρῆγμα ἐξέπεμπε' ἀκόντια δὲ καὶ δοράτια καὶ τὰ 
+
+
+4ο 
+
+
+BOOK I. 32-34 
+
+
+no one (who is but man) can have all these good 
+.. things together, just as no land is altogether self- 
+sufficing in what it produces: one thing it has, 
+another it lacks, and the best land is that which 
+has most; so too no single person is sufficient for 
+himself: one: thing he has, another he lacks; but 
+whoever continues in the possession of most things, 
+anc at last makes a gracious end of his life, such 
+a man, O King, I deem worthy of this title. We 
+must look to the conclusion of every matter, and see 
+how it shall end, for there are many to whom 
+heaven has given a vision of blessedness, and yet 
+afterwards brought them to utter ruin.' 
+
+33. Sospoke Solon: Croesus therefore gave him no 
+largess, but sent him away as a man of no account, for 
+he thought that man to be very foolish who dis- 
+regarded present prosperity and bade him look rather 
+to the end of every matter. 
+
+34. But after Solon's departure, the divine anger 
+fell heavily on Croesus: as I guess, because he 
+supposed himself to be blest beyond all other men. 
+Presently, as he slept, he was visited by a dream, 
+which foretold truly to him the evil which should 
+befall his son. He had two sons, one of whom was 
+wholly undone, for he was deaf and dumb, but the 
+other, whose name was Atys, was in every way far 
+pre-eminent over all of his years. The dream then 
+showed to Croesus that Atys should be smitten and 
+killed by a spear of iron. So Croesus, when he 
+woke and considered the dream with himself, was 
+greatly affrighted by it; and first he made a marriage 
+for his son, and moreover, whereas Atys was wont 
+to lead the Lydian armies, Croesus now would not 
+suffer him to go out on any such enterprise, while 
+
+
+41 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τοιαῦτα πάντα τοῖσι χρέωνται ἐς πόλεμον àv- 
+θρωποι, ἐκ τῶν ἀνδρεώνων ἐκκομίσας ἐς τοὺς 
+θαλάμους συνένησε, μή τί οἱ κρεμάμενον τῷ παιδὶ 
+ἐμπέσῃ. 
+
+35. "Εχοντιὶ δέ οἱ ἐν χερσὶ τοῦ παιδὸς τὸν 
+γάμον, ἀπικνέεται ἐς τὰς Σάρδις ἀνὴρ συμφορῇ 
+ἐχόμενος καὶ οὗ καθαρὸς χείρας, ἐὼν Φρὺξ μὲν 
+γενεῇ, γένεος δὲ τοῦ βασιληίου. παρελθὼν δὲ 
+
+
+οὗτος ἐς τὰ Kpoícqu. aita κατὰ νόμους τοὺς 
+3 / 6 , TY xb οκ ^ δέ 
+ἐπιχωρίους καθαρσίου ἐδέετο χὔρήσαι, Κροῖσος δέ 
+μιν ἐκάθηρε. ἔστι δὲ παραπλησίη ἡ κάθαρσις 
+τοῖσι Λυδοῖσι καὶ τοῖσι Ἓλλησι. ἐπείτε δὲ τὰ 
+νομιζόμενα ἐποίησε ὁ Κροῖσος, ἐπυνθάνετο ὁκόθεν 
+4 / LÀ / / cow , $^ 
+
+τε καὶ τίς εἴη, λέγων τάδε ''"Ώνθρωπε, τίς τε ἐὼν 
+καὶ κόθεν τῆς Φρυγίης ἥκων ἐπίστιός μοι ἐγένεο; 
+
+, A A 
+τίνα τε ἀνδρῶν ἢ γυναικῶν ἐφόνευσας; ὃ δὲ 
+ἀμείβετο “Q βασιλεῦ, Γορδίεω μὲν τοῦ Μίδεω 
+H ^ 3 , Ny 2 \ 
+εἰμὶ παῖς, ὀνομάζομαι δὲ "Αδρηστος, φονεύσας δὲ 
+ἀδελφεὸν ἐμεωυτοῦ ἀέκων πάρειμι ἐξεληλαμένος 
+τε ὑπὸ τοῦ πατρὸς καὶ ἐστερημένος πάντων. 
+Κροῖσος δέ μιν ἀμείβετο τοῖσιδε" “᾿Ανδρῶν τε 
+/ ή ΣΑ \ 3 [4 9 
+φίλων τυγχάνεις ἔκγονος ἐὼν καὶ ἐλήλυθας ἐς 
+φίλους, ἔνθα ἀμηχανήσεις χρήματος οὐδενὸς μένων 
+ἐν ἡμετέρου, συμφορήν τε ταύτην ὡς κουφότατα 
+
+^ ? 
+
+φέρων κερδανέεις πλεῖστον. 
+
+36. Ὃ μὲν δὴ δίαιταν εἶχε ἐν Κροίσου. ἐν δὲ 
+τῷ αὐτῷ χρόνῳ τούτῳ ἐν τῷ Μυσίῳ Ὀλύμπῳ ὑὸς 
+χρῆμα γίνεται μέγα" ὁρμώμενος δὲ οὗτος ἐκ τοῦ 
+ἄρεος τούτου τὰ τῶν Μυσῶν ἔργα διαφθείρεσκε. 
+
+lA ς b > 9 , \ 9 [4 
+πολλάκις δὲ οἱ Μυσοὶ ἐπ᾽ αὐτὸν ἐξελθόντες 
+
+
+1 ἔχοντος Stein. 
+
+
+44 
+
+
+BOOK I. 34-36 
+
+
+he took the javelins and spears and all such instru- 
+ments of war from the men's apartments and piled 
+them up in his storehouse,! lest any of them should 
+fall upon his son from where it hung. 
+
+39. Now while Croesus was busied about the mar- 
+riage of his son, there came to Sardis a Phrygian of 
+the royal house, in great'distress and with hands un- 
+clean. This man came te Croesus' house, and en- 
+treated that he might be purified after the custom of 
+the country; so Croesus purified him (the Lydians 
+use the same manner of purification as do the Greeks), 
+and when he had done all according to usage, he 
+inquired of the Phrygian whence he came and who 
+he was: “ Friend," said he, * who are you, and from 
+what place in Phrygia do you come to be my sup- 
+pliant? and what man or woman have you slain?” 
+*O King," the man answered, “I am the son of 
+Gordias the son of Midas, and my name is Adrastus; 
+by no will of mine, I slew my brother, and hither I 
+am come, banished by my father and bereft of all." 
+Croesus answered, ** All of your family are my friends, 
+and to friends you have come, among whom you shall 
+lack nothing but abide in my house. And for your 
+misfortune, bear it as lightly as may be and you will 
+be the more profited." 
+
+.96. So Adrastus lived in Croesus’ house. About 
+this same time there appeared on the Mysian 
+Olympus a great monster of a boar, who would issue 
+out from that mountain and ravage the fields of the 
+Mysians. Often had the Mysians gone out against 
+
+
+1 Or, perhaps, '' in the women’s quarters,” 
+
+
+VOL. I. C 43 
+
+
+NC. 
+
+
+m ES 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ποιέεσκον μὲν κακὸν οὐδέν, ἔπασχον δὲ πρὸς 
+αὐτοῦ. τέλος δὲ ἀπικόμενοι παρὰ τὸν Κροῖσον 
+τῶν Μυσῶν ἄγγελοι ἔλεγον τάδε. “Ὢ βασιλεῦ, 
+ὑὸς χρῆμα μέγιστον ἀνεφάνη ἡμῖν ἐν τῇ χώρῃ, ὃς 
+τὰ ἔργα διαφθ είρει.. τοῦτον προθυμεόμενοι ἑλεῖν 
+οὐ δυνάμεθα. νῦν ὧν προσδεόµεθά σευ τὸν παῖδα 
+καὶ λογάδας νεηνίας καὶ κύνας συμπέμψαι ἡμῖν, 
+ὡς ἄν μιν ἐξέλωμεν ἐκ τῆς χώρης.᾽ οἳ μὲν δὴ 
+τούτων ἐδέοντο, Κροῖσος δὲ μνημονεύων τοῦ ὀνεί- 
+ρου τὰ ἔπεα ἔλεγέ σφι τάδε. τ Παιδὸς μὲν πέρι 
+τοῦ ἐμοῦ μὴ μνησθῆτε € ἔτι" οὐ yàp. àv ὑμῖν συμ- 
+πέμψαιμι' νεὀγαμός τε γὰρ ἐστὶ καὶ ταῦτά οὗ νῦν 
+μέλει. Λυδῶν μέντοι λογάδας καὶ τὸ κυνηγέσιον 
+πᾶν συμπέμψω, καὶ διακελεύσομαι τοῖσι ἰοῦσι 
+εἶναι ὡς προθυμοτάτοισι σαν ὑμῖν τὸ θηρίον 
+ἐκ τῆς χώρης. 
+
+97. Ταῦτα ἀμείψατο: ἀποχρεωμένων δὲ τού- 
+TOLCL τῶν Μυσῶν, ἐπεσέρχεται ô ToU Κροίσου 
+παῖς ἀκηκοὼς τῶν ἐδέοντο οἱ Μυσοί. οὐ φαμένου 
+δὲ τοῦ Κροίσου τόν γε, παῖδά σφι συμπέμψειν, 
+λέγει πρὸς αὐτὸν ὁ νεηνίης τάδε. «^ πάτερ, τὰ 
+κάλλιστα πρότερον κοτὲ καὶ γενναιότατα ἡμῖν ἣν 
+ἔς τε πολέμους καὶ ἐς ἄγρας φοιτέοντας εὐδοκι- 
+μέειν" νῦν δὲ ἀμφοτέρων µε τούτων ἀπόκληίσας 
+ἔχεις, οὔτε τινὰ δειλύην μοι παριδὼν οὔτε ἀθυμίην 
+νῦν τε τέοισί µε χρὴ ὄμμασι ἔς τε ἀγορὴν καὶ ἐξ 
+ἀγορῆς φοιτέοντα φαίνεσθαι; κοῖος μέν τις τοῖσι 
+πολεήτησι δόξω εἶναι, κοῖος δέ τις τῇ νεογάμῳ 
+γυναικί; κοίῳ δὲ ἐκείνη δόξει ἀνδρὶ συνοικέειν; 
+ἐμὲ ὧν σὺ À μέτες ἰέναι ἐπὶ τὴν θήρην, ἢ λόγῳ 
+ἀνάπεισον ὅκως μοι ἀμείνω ἐστὶ ταῦτα οὕτα 
+ποιεόμενα.᾽ 
+
+
+44 
+
+
+BOOK I. 36-3; 
+
+
+him: but they never did him any harm and rather 
+were themselves hurt thereby. At last they sent 
+messengers to Croesus, with this message: “ King, a 
+great monster of a boar has appeared in the land, 
+who destroys our fields; for all our attempts, we 
+cannot kill him; now therefore, we beseech you, send 
+with us your son, and chosen young men and dogs, 
+that we may rid the country of him." Such was their 
+entreaty, but Croesus remembered the prophecy of 
+his dream and thus answered them: ** Say no more 
+about my son: I will not send him with you: he is 
+newly married, and that is his present business. But 
+I will send chosen men of the Lydians, and all the 
+hunt, and I will bid those who go to use all zeal in 
+aiding you to rid the country of this beast." 
+
+87. So hereplied,and the Mysians were satisfied with 
+this. But the son of Croesus now came in, who had 
+heard the request of the Mysians; and when Croesus 
+refused to send his son with them, * Father," said 
+the young man, “it was formerly held fairest and 
+noblest that we princes should go constantly to war 
+and the chase and win thereby renown ; but now you 
+have barred me from both of these, not for any sign 
+that you have seen in me of a coward or craven spirit. 
+With what face can I thus show myself whenever I 
+go to and from the market-place? What will the 
+men of the city think of me, and what my new- 
+wedded wife? With what manner of man will she 
+think that she dwells? Nay, do you either let me 
+go to this hunt, or show me by reason good that 
+what you are doing is best for me." 
+
+
+45 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+38. ᾿Αμείβεται Κροῖσος τοῖσιδε. N παῖ, 
+οὔτε δειλίην οὔτε ἄλλο οὐδὲν ἄ ἄχαρι παριδών τοι 
+ποιέω ταῦτα, ἆλλά μοι ὄψις ὁ ὀνείρου ἐν τῷ ὕπνῳ 
+ἐπιστᾶσα ἔφη σε ὀλιγοχρόνιον ἔσεσθαι: ὑπὸ yàp 
+αἰχμῆς σιδηρέης ἀπολέεσθαι. πρὸς ὧν τὴν ὄψιν 
+ταύτην τόν τε γάμον του τοῦτον ἔσπευσα καὶ ἐπὶ 
+τὰ παραλαμβανόμενα οὐκ ἀποπέμπω, φυλακὴν 
+ἔχων, εἴ κως δυναίμην ἐπὶ τῆς ἐμῆς σε cons δια- 
+κλέψαι. εἷς γάρ μοι μοῦνος τυγχάνεις. ἐὼν mais’ 
+τὸν yap δὴ ἕτερον διεφθαρμένον τὴν ἀκοὴν οὐκ 
+εἶναί μοι λογίζομαι." 
+
+39. 'A μείβεται ὁ ὁ νεηνίης τοῖσιδε. a Συγγνώμη 
+μὲν ὦ πάτερ τοι, ἰδόντι γε ὄψιν τοιαύτην, περὶ 
+ἐμὲ φυλακὴν ἔχειν: τὸ δὲ οὐ μανθάνεις ἀλλὰ 
+λέληθέ σε 76 ὄνειρον, ἐμέ του δίκαιον ἐστὶ φράξειν. 
+
+ns Tot TO ὄνειρον ὑπὸ αἰχμῆς σιδηρέης φάναι 
+ἐμὲ τελευτήσειν» ὑὸς δὲ κοῖαι μὲν εἰσὶ εὗρες, Koin 
+δὲ αἰχμὴ σιδηρέη τὴν σὺ φοβέαι; εὖ μεν γὰρ ὑπὸ 
+ὀδόντος. τοι εἶπε τελευτήσειν µε, ἢ ἄλλου τευ ὅ τι 
+τούτῳ ἔοικε, χρῆν δή σε ποιέειν τὰ ποιέεις' νῦν δὲ 
+ὑπὸ αἰχμῆς. ἐπείτε ὧν. οὐ πρὸς ἄνδρας ἡμῖν 
+γίνεται ἡ μάχη, μέτες ue." 
+
+40. ᾿Αμείβεται Κροῖσος " Ὢ παῖ, ἔστι τῇ με 
+νικᾷς γνώμην ἆπο αίνων περὶ τοῦ ἐνυπνίου. ὡς 
+ὧν νενικημένος ὑπὸ σέο μεταγινώσκω, μετίημί Te 
+σὲ ἰέναι ἐπὶ τὴν ἄγρην." 
+
+41. Εἴπας δὲ ταῦτα ὁ Κροῖσος μεταπέμπεται 
+τὸν Φρύγα "Αδρηστον, ἀπικομένῳ δέ οἱ λέγει 
+τάδε. τ ᾿Αδρηστε, é ἐγώ σε συμφορῇ πεπληγμένον 
+ἀχάρι, τήν τοι οὐκ ὀνειδίξω, ἐκάθηρα καὶ οἰκίοισι 
+ὑποδεξάμενος ἕ ἔχω, παρέχων πᾶσαν δαπάνην. νῦν 
+ὧν (ὀφείλεις γὰρ ἐμοῦ προποιήσαντος χρηστὰ ἐς 
+
+
+46 
+
+
+BOOK I. 38-41 
+
+
+98. “My son," answered Croesus, “if I do this, it is 
+not that I have seen cowardice or aught unseemly in 
+you ; no, but the vision of a dream stood over me in 
+my sleep, and told me that your life should be short, 
+for you should be slain by a spear of iron. It is for 
+that vision that I was careful to make your marriage, 
+and send you on no enterprise that I have in hand, 
+but keep guard over you, so that haply I may trick 
+death of you through my lifetime. You are my only 
+son: for that other, since his hearing is lost to him, 
+I count no son of mine." | 
+
+39. * Father," the youth replied, * none can blame 
+you for keeping guard over me, when you have seen 
+such a vision; but it is my right to show you this - 
+which you do not perceive, and wherein you mistake 
+the meaning of the dream. You say that the dream 
+told you that I should be killed by a spear of iron; 
+but has a boar hands? Has it that iron spear which 
+you dread? Had the dream said I should be slain by 
+a tusk or some other thing belonging to a boar, you 
+had been right in acting as you act; but no, it was 
+tobea spear. Therefore, since it is not against men 
+that we are to fight, suffer me to go." 
+
+40. Croesus answered, * My son, your judgment 
+concerning the dream does somewhat overpersuade 
+me; and being so convinced by you I change my 
+purpose and permit you to go to the chase." 
+
+4]. Having said this, Croesus sent for Adrastus 
+the Phrygian and when he came thus addressed him : 
+«« Adrastus, when you were smitten by grievous mis- 
+fortune, for which I blame you not, it was I who 
+cleansed you, and received arid still keep you in my 
+house, defraying all your charges. Now therefore (as 
+you owe me a return of good service for the benefits 
+
+
+47 
+
+
+bor 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+cé ᾿χρηστοῖσί με ἀμείβεσθαι) φύλακα παιδός σε 
+τοῦ ἐμοῦ χρηίζω γενέσθαι ἐς ἄγρην ὁρμωμένου, 
+μή τινες κατ᾽ ὁδὸν κλῶπες κακοῦργοι ἐπὶ δηλήσι 
+φανέωσι ὑμῖν. πρὸς δὲ τούτῳ καὶ σέ τοι χρεόν 
+ἐστι ἰέναι ἔνθα ἀπολαμπρυνέαι τοῖσι ἔργοισι" 
+πατρώιόν͵ T€ γάρ TOL ἐστὶ καὶ προσέτι ῥώμη 
+ὑπάρχει. 
+
+49. ᾽Αμείβεται ὁ "Αδρηστος “Ὦ βασιλεῦ, 
+
+ἄλλως μὲν ἔγωγε ἂν οὐκ ἤια ἐς ἄεθλον τοιόνδε" 
+οὔτε γὰρ συμφορῇ τοιῇδε κεχρημένον οἰκός ἐστι 
+ἐς ὁμήλικας εὖ πρήσσοντας ἰέναι, οὔτε τὸ βού- 
+λεσθαι πάρα, πολλαχῇ τε ἂν ἆσχον ἐμεωυτόν. 
+νῦν δέ, ἐ ἐπείτε σὺ σπεύδεις καὶ δεῖ τοι χαρίξεσθαι 
+(ὀφείλω γάρ σε ἀμείβεσθαι χρηστοῖσι), ποιέειν 
+εἰμὶ ἕτοιμος ταῦτα, παῖδά τε σόν, τὸν διακελεύεαι 
+φυλάσσειν, ἀπήμονα. τοῦ φυλάσσοντος εἵνεκεν 
+προσδόκα τοι ἀπονοστήσεἰν.” 
+13. Τοιούτοισι ἐ ἐπείτε οὗτος ἀμείψατο Κροῖσον, 
+ἤισαν μετὰ ταῦτά ἐξηρτυμένοι λογάσι τε νεηνίῃσι 
+καὶ κυσί. ἀπικόμενοι δὲ ἐς τὸν Ὄλυμπον τὸ ὄρος 
+ἐξήτεον τὸ θηρίον, εὑρόντες δὲ καὶ περιστάντες 
+αὐτὸ κύκλφ ἐσηκόντιζον. ἔνθα δὴ ὁ ξεῖνος, 
+οὗτος δὴ ὁ καθαρθεὶς τὸν φόνον, καλεόμενος δὲ 
+"Αδρηστος, ἀκοντίζων τὸν bv τοῦ μὲν ἁμαρτάνει, 
+τυγχάνει δὲ τοῦ Κροίσου παίδος. ὃ μὲν δὴ βλη- 
+θεὶς τῇ αἰχμῇ ἐξέπλησε τοῦ ὀνείρου τὴν φήμην, 
+ἔθεε δέ τις ἀγγελέων τῷ Κροίσῳ τὸ γεγονός, 
+ἀπικόμενος δὲ é ἐς τὰς Σάρδις τήν τε μάχην καὶ τὸν 
+τοῦ παιδὸς μόρον ἐσήμηνέ οἱ. 
+
+44. Ὁ δὲ Κροῖσος τῷ θανάτῳ τοῦ παιδὸς συν- 
+τεταραγμένος μᾶλλόν TL ἐδεινολογέετο ὅτι μιν 
+ἀπέκτεινε τὸν αὐτὸς φόνου ἐκάθηρε" περιημεκτέων 
+
+
+48 
+
+
+BOOK I. 41-44 
+
+
+which I have done you) I ask you to watch over 
+my son as he goes out to the chase. See to it that 
+no ruffian robbers meet you on the way, to do you 
+harm. Moreover it is but right that you too should 
+go where you can win renown by your deeds. That 
+is fitting for your father’s son; and you are strong 
+enough withal." 
+
+42. “O King,” Adrastus answered, “had it been 
+otherwise, I would not have gone forth on this enter- 
+prise. One so unfortunate as I should not consort 
+with the prosperous among his peers; nor have I the 
+wish so to do, and for many reasons I would have 
+held back. But now, since you so desire and I must 
+do your pleasure (owing you as I do a requital of 
+good service), I am ready to obey you in this; and 
+for your son, in so far as I can protect him, look 
+for his coming back unharmed." 
+
+43. So when Adrastus had thus answered Croesus 
+they went out presently equipped with a company 
+of chosen young men and dogs. When they had 
+come to Mount Olympus they hunted for the beast, 
+and having.found him they made a ring and threw 
+their spears at him: then the guest called Adrastus, 
+the man who had been cleansed of the deed of blood, 
+missed the boar with his spear and hit the son of 
+Croesus. So Atys was smitten by the spear and ful- 
+filled the utterance of the dream. One ran to bring 
+Croesus word of what had been done, and came to 
+Sardis, where he told the king of the fight and the 
+manner of his son's end. 
+
+44. Croesus, distraught by the death of his son, 
+cried out the more vehemently because the slayer 
+was one whom he himself had cleansed of a bloody 
+
+
+49 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δὲ τῇ συμφορῇ δεινῶς ἐκάλεε μὲν Δία καθάρσιον 
+μαρτυρόμενος τὰ ὑπὸ τοῦ ξείνου πεπονθὼς εἴη 
+ἐκάλεε δὲ ἐπίστιόν τε καὶ ἑταιρήιον, τὸν αὐτὸν 
+τοῦτον ὀνομάζων θεόν, τὸν μὲν ἐπίστιον καλέων, 
+διότι δὴ οἰκίοισι ὑποδεξάμενος τὸν ξεῖνον φονέα 
+τοῦ παιδὸς ἐλάνθανε βόσκων, τὸν δὲ ἑταιρήιον, 
+ὡς φύλακα συμπέμψας αὐτὸν εὑρήκοι πολε- 
+μιώτατον. 
+
+45. Παρῆσαν δὲ μετὰ τοῦτο οἱ Λυδοὶ φέροντες 
+τὸν νεκρόν, ὄπισθε δὲ εἴπετό οἱ ὁ φονεύς. στὰς 
+δὲ οὗτος πρὸ τοῦ νεκροῦ παρεδίδου ἑωυτὸν Κροίσῳ 
+προτείνων τὰς χεῖρας, ἐπικατασφάξαι μιν κελεύων 
+τῷ νεκρῷ, λέγων τήν τε προτέρην ἑωυτοῦ συμ- 
+φορήν, καὶ ὡς ἐπ᾽ ἐκείνῃ τὸν καθήραντα ἀπολω- 
+λεκὼς εἴη, οὐδέ οἱ εἴη βιώσιμον. Κροῖσος δὲ 
+τούτων ἀκούσας τόν τε Αδρηστον tol μάς ορ 
+καίπερ. ἐὼν ἐν κακῷ οἰκηίῳ τοσούτᾳ Καὶ λέγει 
+πρὸς αὐτόν ““"Ἔχω ὦ ξεῖνε παρὰ σεῦ πᾶσαν τὴν 
+δίκην, ἐπειδὴ σεωυτοῦ καταδικάξεις θάνατον. εἷς 
+δὲ οὐ σύ μοι τοῦδε τοῦ κακοῦ αἴτιος, εἰ μὴ ὅσον 
+ἀέκων ἐξεργάσαο, ἀλλὰ θεῶν κού τις, ὅς μοι 
+καὶ πάλαι προεσήμαινε τὰ μέλλοντα ἔσεσθαι.᾽ 
+Κροῖσος μέν νυν ἔθαψε ὡς οἰκὸς ἦν τὸν ἑωυτοῦ 
+maida: Ἄδρηστος δὲ ὁ Γορδίεω τοῦ Μίδεω, 
+οὗτος δὴ ὁ φονεὺς μὲν τοῦ ἑωυτοῦ ἀδελφεοῦ 
+γενόμενος φονεὺς δὲ τοῦ καθήραντος, ἐπείτε 
+ἡσυχίη τῶν ἀνθρώπων ἐγένετο περὶ τὸ σῆμα, 
+συγγινωσκόµενος ἀνθρώπων εἶναι τῶν αὐτὸς ᾖδεε 
+βαρυσυμφορώτατος, ἐπικατασφάξει τῷ τύμβῳ 
+ἑωυτόν. 
+
+46. Κροῖσος δὲ ἐπὶ δύο ἔτεα ἐν πένθεϊ μεγάλῳ 
+
+
+5ο 
+
+
+BOOK I. 44-46 
+
+
+deed, and in his great and terrible grief at this mis- 
+chance he called on Zeus by three names—Zeus the 
+Purifier, Zeus of the Hearth, Zeus of Comrades: the 
+first, because he would have the god know what evil 
+his guest had wrought him ; the second, because he 
+had received the guest into his house and thus un- 
+wittingly entertained the slayer of his son ; and the 
+third, because he had found his worst foe in the man 
+whom he sent as a protector. 
+
+45. Soon came the Lydians, bearing the dead 
+corpse, with the slayer following after. He then 
+came and stood before the body and gave himself 
+wholly into Croesus' power, holding out his hands 
+and praying the king to slay him where he stood by 
+the dead man: * Remember," he said, * my former 
+mischance, and see how besides that I have undone 
+him who purified me; indeed, it is not fit that I 
+should live." On hearing this Croesus, though his 
+own sorrow was so great, took pity on Adrastus and 
+said to him, * Friend, I have from you all that jus- 
+tice asks, since you deem yourself worthy of death. 
+But it is not you that I hold the cause of this evil, 
+save in so far as you were the unwilling doer of it: 
+rather it is the work of a god, the same who told 
+me long ago what was to be." So Croesus buried 
+his own son in such manner as was fitting. But 
+Adrastus, son of Gordias who was son of Midas, 
+this Adrastus, the slayer of his own brother and 
+of the man who purified him, when the tomb was 
+undisturbed by the presence of men, slew himself 
+there by the sepulchre, seeing now clearly that he 
+was the most ill-fated wretch of all men whom he 
+knew. 
+
+46. Croesus, after the loss of his son, sat in deep 
+
+
+5I 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+κατῆστο τοῦ παιδὸς ἐστὲ ρημένος. μετὰ δὲ 
+
+
+ΓΑστυάγεος τοῦ Κυαξάρεα( ἡ ἡγεμονίη καταιρεθεῖσα 
+
+
+ὑπὸ Κύρου τοῦ Καμβύσεὼ καὶ τὰ τῶν Περσέων 
+πρήγματα αὐξανόμεν πένθεος μὲν Κροῖσον ἀπέ- 
+υσε, ἐνέβησε δὲ ἐς φροντίδα, εἴ κως δύναιτο, 
+πρὶν. μεγάλους γενέσθαι τοὺς Πέρσας, καταλαβεῖν 
+αὐτῶν αὐξανομένην τὴν δύναμιν. μετὰ ὧν τὴν 
+διάνοιαν ταύτην αὐτίκα ἀπεπειρᾶτο τῶν μαντηίων 
+τῶν τε ἐν Ἕλλησι καὶ τοῦ ἐν Λιβύῃ, διαπέμψας 
+ἄλλους ἄλλῃ, τοὺς μὲν ἐς Δελφοὺς ἰέναι, τοὺς δὲ 
+ἐς "ABas τὰς Φωκέων, τοὺς δὲ ἐς Δωδώνην' οἳ 
+δὲ τινὲς ἐπέμποντο παρά τε Α μφιάρεων καὶ παρὰ 
+Τροφώνιον, οἳ δὲ τῆς Μιλησίης è ἐς Βραγχίδας. ταῦτα 
+μέν νυν τὰ Ελληνικὰ µαντήια, ἐς τὰ ἀπέπεμψε pav- 
+τευσόμενος Κροῖσος" Λιβύης δὲ παρὰ Appova a ἀπέ- 
+στελλε ἄλλους χρησομένους. | διέπεμπε δὲ πειρώ- 
+μενος τῶν μαντηίων ὅ τι φρονέοιεν, ἆ ὡς εἰ φρονέοντα 
+τὴν ἀληθείην εὑρεθείη, ἐπείρηται σφέα δεύτερα 
+πέμπων εἰ ἐπιχειρέοι ἐπὶ Πέρσας στρατεύεσθαι. 
+4T. Ἐντειλάμενος δὲ τοῖσι Λυδοῖσι τάδε ἀπέ- 
+πέμπε ἐς τὴν διάπειραν τῶν χρηστηρίων, ἀπ’ ἧς 
+ἂν ἡμέρης ὁρμηθέωσι ἐκ Σαρδίων, ἀπὸ ταύτης 
+ἡμερολογέοντας τὸν λοιπὸν χρόνον ἑκατοστῇ 
+ἡμέρῃ χρᾶσθαι τοῖσι χρηστηρίοισι, ἐπειρωτῶντας 
+ὅ τι ποιέωΡ τυγχάνοι o Λυδῶν βασιλεὺς Κροῖσος 
+ὁ ᾿Αλυάττεω' ἅσσα Ò ἂν ἕκαστα τῶν χρηστηρίων 
+θεσπίσῃ, συγγραψαµένους ἀναφέρειν παρ᾽ ἑωυτόν. 
+ὅ τι μέν νυν τὰ λοιπὰ τῶν χρηστηρίων ἐθέσπισε, 
+οὐ λέγεται πρὸς οὖδαμῶν' ἐν δὲ Δελφοῖσι ὡς 
+ἐσῆλθον τάχιστα ἐς τὸ μέγαρον οἱ Λυδοὶ χρησό- 
+μενοι τῷ θεῷ καὶ ἐπειρώτων τὸ ἐντεταλμένον, ἡ 
+Πυθίη ἐν ἑξαμέτρῳ τόνῳ λέγει τάδε. 
+
+
+52 
+
+
+BOOK 1l. 46-47 
+
+
+sorrow for two years. After this time, the de- 
+struction by Cyrus son of Cambyses of the sover- 
+eignty of Astyages son of Cyaxares, and the growth 
+of the power of the Persians, caused him to cease 
+from his mourning; and he resolved, if he could, 
+to forestall the increase of the Persian power before 
+they grew to greatness. Having thus determined, 
+he straightway made trial of the Greek and Libyan 
+oracles, sending messengers separately to Delphi, 
+to Abae in Phocia, and to Dodona, while others 
+again were despatched to Amphiaraus and Tro- 
+phonius,! and others to Branchidae in the Milesian 
+country. These are the Greek oracles to which 
+Croesus sent for divination: and he bade others go 
+to inquire of Ammon in Libya. His intent in 
+sending was to test the knowledge of the oracles, 
+so that, if they should be found to know the truth, 
+he might send again and ask if he should take in 
+hand an expedition against the Persians. 
+
+47. And when he sent to make trial of these 
+shrines he gave the Lydians this charge: they were 
+to keep count of the time from the day of their 
+leaving Sardis, and on the hundredth day inquire of 
+the oracles what Croesus, king of Lydia, son of 
+Alyattes, was then doing ; then they were to write 
+down whatever were the oracular answers and bring 
+them back to him. Now none relate what answer 
+was given by the rest of the oracles. But at Delphi, 
+no sooner had the Lydians entered the hall to 
+inquire of the god and asked the question with 
+which they were charged, than the Pythian priestess 
+uttered the following hexameter verses: 
+
+
+! That is, to the oracular shrines of these legendary 
+heroes, 
+
+
+53 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Οἶδα δ᾽ ἐγὼ ψάωµον τ᾽ ἀριθμὸν καὶ μέτρα 
+θαλάσσης, 
+. ^ , 9 e^ 9 a 
+καὶ κωφοῦ συνίηµι, καὶ οὗ φωνεῦντος ἀκούω. 
+3 , > 3 Ἢ Q ld , 
+ὀδμή p ἐς φρένας ἦλθε κραταιρίνοιο χελώνης 
+ἑψομένης ἐν χαλκῷ ἅμ. ἀρνείοισι κρεεσσιν, 
+b b e 4 N δ᾽ 9 έ 
+ᾗ χαλκὸς μὲν ὑπέστρωται, χαλκὸν Ò ἐπιέσται. 
+
+
+48. Ταῦτα οἱ Λυδοὶ θεσπισάσης τῆς Πυθίης 
+συγγραψάμενοι οἴχοντο ἀπιόντες ἐς τὰς Σάρδις. 
+ὡς δὲ καὶ ὤλλοι οἱ περιπεμφθέντες παρῆσαν 
+φέροντες τοὺς χρησμούς, ἐνθαῦτα ὁ Κροῖσος 
+ἕκαστα ἀναπτύσσων ἐπώρα τῶν συγγραμμάτων. 
+
+^ ` δὴ > ὃ é , , a δὲ e \ 5 
+τῶν μὲν δὴ οὐδὲν προσίετὀ μιν' ὃ δὲ ὡς τὸ ἐκ 
+Δελφῶν ἤκουσε, αὐτίκα προσεύχετό τε καὶ προσ- 
+εδέξατο, νομίσας μοῦνον εἶναι μαντήιον τὸ ἐν 
+
+^ [d e 3 Ld 4 > * 9 / 
+Δελφοῖσι, ὅτι οἱ ἐξευρήκεε τὰ αὐτὸς ἐποίησε. 
+3 L4 `~ . / A 4 , M 
+ἐπείτε γὰρ δὴ διέπεμψε παρὰ τὰ στήρια TOU 
+
+(yap δὴ διέπεµψε παρὰ τὰ χρηστήρια τοὺς 
+θεοπρόπους, φυλάξας τὴν κυρίην τῶν ἡμερέων 
+ἐμηχανᾶτο τοιάδε: ἐπινοήσας τὰ ἦν ἀμήχανον !* 
+ἐξευρεῖν τε καὶ ἐπιφράσασθαι, χελώνην καὶ ἄρνα 
+κατακόψας ὁμοῦ ἧψε αὐτὸς ἐν λέβητι χαλκέῳ, 
+
+4 >? 3 / 
+χάΧκεον ἐπίθημα ἐπιθεῖς. 
+
+A \ 4 > ^ ο A , 
+
+49. Τὰ μὲν δὴ ἐκ Δελφῶν οὕτω τῷ Κροίσῳ 
+, / é 4 δὲ . >A / A / 
+ἐχρήσθη" κατὰ δὲ τὴν ᾿Αμϕιάρεω τοῦ μαντηίου 
+ὑπόκρισιν, οὐκ ἔχω εἰπεῖν ὅ τι τοῖσι Λυδοῖσι 
+ἔχρησε ποιήσασι περὶ τὸ ἱρὸν τὰ νομιζόμενα (οὐ 
+γὰρ ὧν οὐδὲ τοῦτο λέγεται), ἄλλο γε ἢ ὅτι καὶ 
+τοῦτο ἐνόμισε μαντήιον ἀψευδὲς ἐκτῆσθαι. 
+
+
+54 
+
+
+BOOK I. 47-49 
+
+
+Grains of sand I reckon and measure the spaces of 
+ocean, 
+
+Hear when dumb men speak, and mark the speech 
+of the silent. 
+
+What is it now that I smell? 'tis a tortoise mightily 
+armoured 
+
+Sodden in vessel of bronze, with a lamb’s flesh 
+mingled together : 
+
+Bronze thereunder is laid and a mantle of bronze is 
+upon it.” 
+
+
+48, Having written down this inspired utterance 
+cf the Pythian priestess, the Lydians went away 
+back to Sardis. When the others as well who had 
+keen sent to divers places came bringing their 
+oracles, Croesus then unfolded and surveyed all the 
+writings. Some of them in no wise satisfied him. 
+But when he heard the Delphian message, he 
+acknowledged it with worship and welcome, con- 
+sidering that Delphi was the only true place of 
+divination, because it had discovered what he 
+himself had done. For after sending his env»ys 
+to the oracles, he bethought him of a device which 
+no conjecture could discover, and carried it out on 
+the appointed day: namely, he cut up a tortoise and 
+a lamb, and then himself boiled them in a caldrcn of 
+bronze covered with a lid of the same. 
+
+49. Such then was the answer from Delphi de 
+livered to Croesus. As to the reply which the Lydians 
+received from the oracle of Amphiaraus when they 
+had followed the due custom of the temple, I 
+cannot say what it was, for nothing is recorded 
+of it, saving that Croesus held that from this oracle 
+too he had obtained a true answer. 
+
+
+55 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+50. Μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα θυσίῃσι μεγάλῃσι τὸν ἐν 
+λελφοῖσι θεὸν ἱλάσκετο' κτήνεά τε yàp. τὰ θύσιμα 
+πάντα τρισχίλια ἔθυσε, κλίνας τε ἐπιχρύσους 
+καὶ ἐπαργύρους καὶ φιάλας χρυσέας καὶ εἵματα 
+πορφύρεα καὶ κιθῶνας, νήσας πυρὴν μεγάλην, 
+κατέκαιε, ὁ [ev τὸν θεὸν μᾶλλόν τι τούτοισι 
+ἀνα ἐτησεσὶ Λυδοῖσι τε πᾶσι προεῖπε θύειν 
+πάντα τινὰ αὐτῶν τούτῳ ὅ τι ἔχοι. ἕκαστος. ὡς 
+δὲ ἐκ τῆς θυσίης ἐγένετο, καταχεάμενος χρυσὸν 
+ἄπλετον ἡμιπλίνθια ἐξ αὐτοῦ ἐξήλαυνε, ἐπὶ μὲν 
+τὰ μακρότερα ποιέων ἑξαπάλαιστα, ἐπὶ δὲ τὰ 
+βραχύτερα τριπάλαιστα, ὕψος δὲ παλαιστιαῖα. 
+ἀριθμὸν δὲ ἑπτακαίδεκα καὶ ἑκατόν, καὶ τούτων 
+ἀπέφθου χρυσοῦ τέσσεῤα, τρίτον ἡμιτάλαντον 
+ἕκαστον ἕλκοντα, τὰ δὲ ἄλλα ἡμιπλίνθια λευκοῦ 
+χρυσοῦ, σταθμὸν διτάλαντα. ἐποιέετο δὲ καὶ 
+λέοντος εἰκόνα χρυσοῦ ἀπέφθου ἕλκουσαν σταθμὸν 
+τάλαντα δέκα. οὗτος ὁ λέων, ἐπείτε κατεκαίετο 
+ὁ ἐν Δελφοῖσι νηός, κατέπεσε ἀπὸ τῶν ἡμιπλιν- 
+θίων (ἐπὶ γὰρ τούτοισι ἵδρυτο), καὶ νῦν κεῖται ἐν 
+τῷ Κορινθίων θησαυρῷ, ἕλκων σταθμὸν ἕβδομον 
+
+ἡμιτάλαντον" ἀπετάκη γὰρ αὐτοῦ τέταρτον ἡμι- 
+τάλαντον. 
+
+51. ᾿Επιτελέσας δὲ ὁ Κροῖσος ταῦτα ἀπέπεμπε 
+ἐς Δελφούς, καὶ τάδε ἄλλα ἅμα τοῖσι, κρητῆρας 
+δύο μεγάθεϊ μεγάλους, χρύσεον καὶ ἀργύρεον, τῶν 
+ὁ μὲν χρύσεος ἔκειτο ἐ ἐπὶ δεξιὰ ἐ ἐσιόντι ἐς τὸν νηόν, 
+ὁ δὲ ἀργύρεος ἐπ᾽ ἀριστερά. μετεκινήθησαν δὲ 
+καὶ οὗτοι ὑπὸ τὸν νηὸν κατακαέντα, καὶ ὁ μὲν 
+χρύσεος κεῖται ἐν τῷ Κλαξομενίων θησαυρῷ, 
+ἕλκων σταθμὸν εἴνατον ἡμιτάλαντον καὶ ἔτι δυώ- 
+δεκα μνέας, ὁ δὲ ἀργύρεος ἐπὶ τοῦ προνηίου τῆς 
+56 
+
+
+BOOK I. so-sr 
+
+
+50. After this, he strove to win the favour of the 
+Delphian god with great sacrifices. He offered up 
+three thousand beasts from each kind fit for sacrifice, 
+and he burnt on a great pyre couches covered with 
+gold and silver, golden goblets, and purple cloaks 
+and tunics; by these means he hoped the better to 
+win the aid of the god, to whom he also commanded 
+that every Lydian should sacrifice what he could. 
+When the sacrifice was over, he melted down a vast 
+store of gold and made of it ingots of which the 
+longer sides were of six and the shorter of three 
+palms’ length, and the height was one palm. 
+These were an hundred and seventeen in number. 
+Four of them were of refined gold, each weighing 
+two talents and a half; the rest were of gold with 
+silver alloy, each of two talents’ weight. He bade 
+also to be made a figure of a lion of refined gold, 
+weighing ten talents. When the temple of Delphi 
+was burnt, this lion fell from the ingots which were 
+the base whereon it stood; and now it lies in the 
+treasury of the Corinthians, but weighs only six 
+talents and a half, for the fire melted away three and 
+a half talents. 
+
+51. When these offerings were fully made, Croesus 
+sent them to Delphi, with other gifts besides, namely, 
+two very great bowls, one of gold and one of silver. 
+The golden bowl stood to the right, the silvern to 
+the left, of the temple entrance. These too were 
+removed about the time of the temple’s burning, 
+and now the golden bowl, which weighs eight 
+talents and a half, and twelve minae,! lies in the 
+treasury of the Clazomenians, and the silver bowl 
+at the corner of the forecourt of the temple. This 
+
+
+1 μνᾶ = about 15 oz. Troy weight. 
+57 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+γωνίης, χωρέων ἀμφορέας ἑξακοσίους: è ἐπικίρναται 
+γὰρ ὑπὸ Δελφῶν θεοφανίοισι. «φασὶ δέ μιν Δελφοὶ 
+Θεοδώρου τοῦ Σαμίου ἔ ἔργον εἶναι, καὶ € ἐγὼ δοκέω" | 
+ov yap τὸ συντυχὸν φαίνεταί μοι ἔργον εἶναι. 
+καὶ πίθους τε ἀργυρέους τέσσερας ἀπέπεμψε, οἳ 
+ἐν τῷ Κορινθίων θησαυρῷ ἑστᾶσι, καὶ περιρραν- 
+τήρια δύο ἀνόθηκε, χρύσεὀν τε καὶ ἀργύρεον, τῶν 
+τῷ χρυσέῳ ἐπιγέγραπται Λακεδαιμονίων φαμένων 
+εἶναι ἀνάθημα, οὐκ ὀρθῶς λέγοντες" ἔστι γὰρ καὶ 
+τοῦτο Κροίσου, ἐπέγραψε δὲ τῶν τις Δελφῶν 
+Λακεδαιμονίοισι βουλόμενος χαρίζεσθαι, τοῦ ἐπι- 
+στάμενος τὸ οὔνομα. οὐκ ᾿ ἐπιμνήσομαι. ἀλλ᾽ ὁ μὲν 
+παῖς, δὲ οὗ τῆς χειρὸς ῥέει τὸ ὕδωρ, Λακεδαιμονίων 
+ἐστί, oU μέντοι τῶν γε περιρραντηρίων οὐδέτερον. 
+ἄλλα Te ἀναθήματα οὐκ ἐπίσημα πολλὰ ἀπέ- 
+πεμψε ἅμα τούτοισι ὁ Κροῖσος, καὶ χεύματα 
+ἀργύρεα κυκλοτερέα, καὶ δὴ καὶ -γυναικὸς εἴδωλον 
+χρύσεον τρίπηχν, τὸ Δελφοὶ τῆς ἀρτοκόπου τῆς 
+Κροίσου εἰκόνα λέγουσι εἶναι. πρὸς δὲ καὶ τῆς 
+ἑωυτοῦ γυναικὸς τὰ ἀπὸ τῆς δειρῆς ἀνέθηκε ὁ 
+Κροῖσος καὶ τὰς ζώνας. 
+
+52. Ταῦτα μὲν ἐς Δελφοὺς ἀπέπεμψε, τῷ δὲ 
+᾽Αμϕιάρεφ, πυθόμενος. αὐτοῦ τήν τε ἀρετὴν κα. 
+τὴν πάθη», ἀνέθηκε σάκος τε χρύσεον πᾶν ὁμοίως 
+καὶ αἰχμὴν στερεὴν | πᾶσαν χρυσέην, τὸ ξυστὸν 
+τῆσι λόγχῃσι ἐὸν ὁμοίως .χρύσεον" τὰ ἔτι καὶ 
+ἀμφότερα ἐ ἐς ἐμὲ ἣν κείμενα ἐν Θήβῃσι καὶ Θηβέων 
+ἐν τῷ νηῷ τοῦ ᾿Ισμηνίου ᾿Απόλλωνος. 
+
+53. Τοῖσι δὲ ἆ ἄγειν μέλλουσι τῶν Λυδῶν ταῦτα 
+τὰ δῶρα ἐ ἐς τὰ ipa ἐνετέλλετο ὁ ὁ Κροῖσος € ἐπειρωτᾶν 
+τὰ χρηστήρια εἰ στρατεύηται ἐπὶ Πέρσας Κροῖσος 
+
+
+καὶ εἴ τίνα στρατὸν ἀνδρῶν προσθέοιτο φίλον, 
+
+
+58 
+
+
+BOOK I. 51-53 - 
+
+
+bowl holds six hundred nine-gallon measures: for the 
+Delphians use it for a mixing-bowl at the feast of 
+the Divine Appearance. It is said by the Delphians 
+to be the work of Theodorus of Samos, and I believe 
+them, for it seems to me to be of no common work- 
+manship. Moreover, Croesus sent four silver casks, 
+which stand in the treasury of the Corinthians, and 
+dedicated two sprinkling-vessels, one of gold, one of 
+silver. The golden vessel bears the inscription 
+* Given by the Lacedaemonians," who claim it as 
+their offering. ‘But they are wrong, for this, too, 
+is Croesus’ gift. The inscription was made by a 
+certain Delphian, whose name I know but will not 
+reveal, out of his desire to please the Lacedae- 
+monians. The figure of a boy, through whose hand 
+the water runs, is indeed a Lacedaemonian gift ; but 
+they did not give either of the sprinkling-vessels. 
+Along with these Croesus sent, besides many other 
+offerings of no great mark, certain round basins of 
+silver, and a golden female figure three cubits high, 
+which the Delphians assert to be the statue of the 
+woman who was Croesus’ baker. Moreover he 
+dedicated his own wife’s necklaces and girdles. 
+
+52, Such were the gifts which he sent to Delphi. 
+To Amphiaraus, having learnt of his valour and his 
+fate, he dedicated a shield made entirely of gold and 
+a spear all of solid gold, point and shaft alike. Both 
+of these lay till my time at Thebes, in the Theban 
+temple of Ismenian Apollo. 
+
+53, The Lydians who were to bring these gifts to 
+the temples were charged by Croesus to inquire ot 
+the oracles, “Shall Croesus send an army against 
+the Persians: and shall he take to himself any allied 
+
+
+1 The Theophania was a festival at Delphi, at which the 
+statues of gods were shown. 
+59 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὡς δὲ ἀπικόμενοι ἐς τὰ ἀπεπέμφθησαν οἱ Λυδοὶ 
+ἀνέθεσαν τὰ ἀναθήματα, ἐχρέωντο τοῖσι χρηστι- 
+ρίοισι λέγοντες '' Κροῖσος ὁ Λυδῶν τε καὶ ἄλλων 
+9 , , , ^05 I4 " 
+ἐθνέων βασιλεύς, νομίσας τάδε μαντήια εἶναι 
+^ H 3 , € A 3 ^ L4 
+μοῦνα ἐν ἀνθρώποισι, ὑμῖν τε ἄξια δῶρα ἔδωκε 
+- 3 , N ^ e / , ^ , 
+τῶν ἐξευρημάτων, καὶ νῦν ὑμέας ἐπειρωτᾷ εἰ 
+΄ > ` 8 
+στρατεύηται ἐπὶ Πέρσας καὶ εἴ τινα στρατὸν 
+ἀνδρῶν προσθέοιτο σύμμαχον.᾽ οἳ μὲν ταῦτα 
+ἐπειρώτων, τῶν δὲ μαντηίων ἀμφοτέρων ἐς τὠυτὸ 
+αἱ γνῶμαι συνέδραμον, προλέγουσαι Κροίσῳ, ἣν 
+στρατεύηται ἐπὶ Πέρσας, μεγάλην ἀρχὴν μιν 
+καταλύσειν" τοὺς δὲ “Ελλήνων δυνατωτάτους 
+συνεβούλευόν οἱ ἐξευρόντα φίλους προσθέσθαι. 
+54. Ἐπείτε δὲ ἀνενειχθέντα τὰ θεοπρόπια 
+ἐπύθετο ὁ Κροῖσος, ὑπερήσθη τε τοῖσι χρηστη- 
+ρίοισι, πάγχυ τε ἐλπίσας καταλύσειν τὴν Κύρου 
+βασιληίην, πέμψας αὖτις ἐς Πυθὼ Δελφοὺς δω- 
+ρέεται, πυθόμενος αὐτῶν τὸ πλῆθος, κατ ἄνδρα 
+ζ ^ [d ^ M Ν ? M 
+δύο στατῆρσι ἕκαστον χρυσοῦ. Δελφοὶ δὲ ἀντὶ 
+4 L4 , M ^ / 
+τούτων ἔδοσαν Κροίσῳ καὶ Λυδοῖσι προμαντηίην 
+/ ^ ^ 
+καὶ ἀτελείην καὶ προεδρίην, καὶ ἐξεῖναι τῷ βουλο- 
+’ 3 ^ / . 9 ^ oN , 
+μένῳ αὐτῶν γίνεσθαι Δελφὸν ἐς τὸν αἰεὶ χρόνον. 
+55. Δωρησάμενος δὲ τοὺς Δελφοὺς ὁ Κροῖσος 
+ἐχρηστηριάζετο τὸ τρίτον' ἐπείτε γὰρ δὴ mapé- 
+λαβε τοῦ μαντηίου ἀληθείην, ἐνεφορέετο αὐτοῦ. 
+ἐπειρώτα δὲ τάδε χρηστηριαζόμενος, εἴ οἱ Tov- 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+BOOK I. 53-55 
+
+
+host?" When the Lydians came to the places 
+whither they were sent, they made present of the 
+offerings, and inquired of the oracles, in these 
+words: “Croesus, king of Lydia and other nations, 
+seeing that he deems that here are the only true 
+places of divination among men, endows you with 
+such gifts as your wisdom merits. And now he 
+would ask you, if he shall send an army against the 
+Persians, and if he shall take to himself any allied 
+host." Such was their inquiry; and the judgment 
+given to Croesus by each of the two oracles was the 
+same, to wit, that if he should send an army against 
+the Persians he would destroy a great empire. And 
+they counselled him to discover the mightiest of the 
+Greeks and make them his friends. 
+
+54. When the divine answers had been brought 
+back and Croesus learnt of them, he was greatly 
+pleased with the oracles. So, being fully persuaded 
+that he would destroy the kingdom of Cyrus, he 
+sent once again to Pytho and endowed the Del- 
+phians with two gold staters! apiece, according to 
+his knowledge of their number. The Delphians, 
+in return, gave Croesus and all Lydians the right 
+of first consulting the oracle, freedom from all charges, 
+the chief seats at festivals, and perpetual right of 
+Delphian citizenship to whosoever should wish. 
+
+55. Then Croesus after his gifts to the Delphians 
+made a third inquiry of the oracle, for he would use 
+it to the full, having received true answers from 
+it; and the question which he asked in his in- 
+quest was whether his sovereignty should be of long 
+
+
+1 The stater was the common gold coin of the Greek world. 
+The value of Croesus’ stater was probably about twenty- 
+three shillings of our money. 
+
+
+61 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+χρόνιος ἔσται ἡ μουναρχίη. ἡ δὲ Πυθίη οἱ χρᾷ 
+τάδε. 
+
+
+᾿Αλλ᾽ ὅταν ἡμίονος βασιλεὺς Μήδοισι γένηται, 
+καὶ τότε, Λυδὲ ποδαβρέ, πολυψήφιδα παρ᾽ 
+
+
+φεύγειν μηδὲ μένειν μηδ᾽ αἰδεῖσθαι κακὸς εἶναι. 
+
+
+56. Τούτοισι ἐλθοῦσι τοῖσι ἔπεσι ὁ Κροῖσος 
+πολλόν τι μάλιστα πάντων ἥσθη, ἐλπίζων ἡμίονον 
+οὐδαμὰ ἀντ᾽ ἀνδρὸς βασιλεύσειν Μήδων, οὐδ ὧν 
+
+=>: A A A 
+αὐτὸς οὐδᾶ οἱ ἐξ αὐτοῦ παύσεσθαι κοτὲ τῆς ἀρχῆς. 
+
+ds 
+μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα ἐφρόντιζε ἱστορέων τοὺς ἂν Ἑλλή- 
+νων δυνατωτάτους ἐόντας προσκτήσαιτο φίλους, 
+ἱστορέων δὲ εὕρισκε Λακεδαιμονίους καὶ ᾿Αθη- 
+ναίους προέχοντας τοὺς μὲν τοῦ Δωρικοῦ γένεος 
+τοὺς δὲ τοῦ Ἰωνικοῦ. ταῦτα γὰρ ἦν τὰ προκεκρι- 
+
+/ 97 ν 32 ^ 4 ` Ν N ΔΝ 
+μένα, ἐόντα τὸ ἀρχαῖον τὸ μὲν Ἡελασγικὸν τὸ δὲ 
+Ἑλληνικὸν ἔθνος. καὶ τὸ μὲν οὐδαμῇ κω ἐξεχώ- 
+
+`~ δὲ / , > \ N à 
+ρῆσε, τὸ δὲ πολυπλάνητον κάρτα. ἐπὶ μὲν γὰρ 
+Δευκαλίωνος βασιλέος οἴκεε γῆν τὴν Φθιῶτιν, 
+ἐπὶ δὲ Δώρου τοῦ "Ελληνος τὴν ὑπὸ τὴν Ὄσσαν 
+τε καὶ τὸν Ὄλυμπον χώρη», καλεομένην δὲ Ἴστι- 
+αιῶτιν. ἐκ δὲ τῆς Ἱστιαιώτιδος ὡς ἐξανέστη ὑπὸ 
+Καδμείων, οἴκεε ἐν Πίνδῳ Μακεδνὸν καλεόμενον' 
+ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ αὖτις ἐς τὴν Δρυοπίδα μετέβη, καὶ ἐκ 
+τῆς Δρυοπίδος οὕτω ἐς Πελοπόννησον ἐλθὸν Δω- 
+
+. 2 / 
+ρικὸν ἐκλήθη. 
+
+
+62 
+
+
+BOOK 1. 55-56 
+
+
+duration. To this the Pythian priestess answered as 
+follows : 
+
+
+* Lydian, beware of the day when a mule is lord of 
+the Medians: 
+Then with thy delicate feet by the stone-strewn 
+channel of Hermus 
+Flee for thy life, nor abide, nor blush for the name 
+of a craven." 
+
+
+56. When he heard these verses Croesus was 
+pleased with them above all, for he thought that a 
+mule would never be king of the Medians in place of 
+a man, and so that he and his posterity would never 
+lose his empire. Then he sought very carefully to 
+discover who were the mightiest of the Greeks whom 
+he should make his friends. He found by inquiry 
+that the chief peoples were the Lacedaemonians 
+among those of Doric, and the Athenians among 
+those of Ionic stock. These races, Ionian and Dorian, 
+were the foremost in ancient time, the first a Pelas- 
+gian and the second an Hellenic people. The 
+Pelasgian stock has never yet left its habitation, the 
+Hellenic has wandered often and afar. For in the 
+days of king Deucalion! it inhabited the land of 
+Phthia, then in the time of Dorus son of Hellen the 
+country called Histiaean, under Ossa and Olympus ; 
+driven by the Cadmeans from this Histiaean country 
+it settled about Pindus in the parts called Macednian ; 
+thence again it migrated to Dryopia, and at last 
+came from Dryopia into Peloponnesus, where it took 
+the name of Dorian.? 
+
+1 Deucalion and Pyrrha were the survivors of the Deluge 
+as known to Greek legend. 
+
+
+2 The localities mentioned in the story of the migration 
+into the Peloponnese are all in northern Greece. 
+63 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δΊ. "Ἠντινα δὲ γλῶσσαν ἵεσαν οἱ Πελασγοί, 
+οὐκ ἔχω ἀτρεκέως εἰπεῖν. εἰ δὲ χρεόν ἐστι 
+παν» λέγειν A re νῦν ἔτι ἐοῦσι D prod 
+γῶν τῶν ἰὑπὲρ Τυρσηνῶν ἱΚρηστῶνα πόλιν οἰκεόν- 
+των, οἳ ὅμουροι κοτὲ ἦσαν τοῖσι νῦν Δωριεῦσι 
+καλεομένοισι (οἴκεον δὲ τηνικαῦτα γῆν τὴν νῦν 
+Θεσσαλιῶτιν καλεομένην), καὶ τῶν Πλακίην τε 
+καὶ Σκυλάκην Πελασγῶν οἰκησάντων ἐν Ἕλλησ- 
+
+€ > 
+
+πόντῳ, οἳ σύνοικοι ἐγένοντο Αθηναίοισι, καὶ ὅσα 
+» N 94 [4 x » 
+
+ἄλλα Πελασγικὰ ἐόντα πολίσματα τὸ οὔνομα 
+
+, ^ 
+
+μετέβαλε" εἰ τούτοισι τεκμαιρόμενον δεῖ λέγειν, 
+4 ε . 4 ^ e? , 
+ἦσαν οἱ Πελασγοὶ βάρβαρον γλῶσσαν ἱέντες. εἰ 
+τοίνυν ἦν καὶ πᾶν τοιοῦτο τὸ Πελασγικόν, τὸ 
+? . 3 25 N e ^ ^ 
+Αττικὸν ἔθνος ἐὸν Πελασγικὸν ἅμα τῇ μµεταβολῇ 
+
+^» d M ^ / κ 
+τῇ ἐς Ἓλληνας (αὶ τὴν γλῶσσαν μετέμαθθ καὶ 
+γὰρ δὴ οὔτε οἱ Κρηστωνιῆται οὐδαμοῖσι τῶν νῦν 
+
+/ e ? 
+σφέας περιοικεόντων εἰσὶ ὁμόγλωσσοι οὔτε οἱ 
+e ^4 ^ 
+Πλακιηνοί, σφίσι δὲ ὁμόγλωσσοι' δηλοῦσί τε ὅτι 
+, A 
+τὸν ἠνείκαντο γλώσσης χαρακτῆρα μεταβαίνοντες 
+ἐς ταῦτα τὰ χωρία, τοῦτον ἔχουσι ἐν φυλακῆ. 
+Y ο) ` , νο. } 
+
+58. Τὸ δὲ Ἑλληνικὸν γλώσσῃ μὲν ἐπείτε ἐγένετο] 
+αἰεί κοτε τῇ αὐτῇ διαχρᾶται, ὡς ἐμοὶ καταφαί- 
+νεται εἶναι. ἀποσχισθὲν μέντοι ἀπὸ τοῦ Τ]ελασ- 
+γικοῦ ἐὸν ἀσθενές, ἀπὸ σμικροῦ Treo τὴν ἀρχὴν 
+ὁρμώμενον αὔξηται ἐς πλῆθος τῶν ἐθνέων, Ile- 
+
+^ , ^ 
+λασγῶν μάλιστα προσκεχωρηκότων αὐτῷ καὶ 
+y 9 / , ^ 4 M 
+ἄλλων ἐθνέων βαρβάρων συχνῶν. πρόσθε δὲ 
+` . 
+ὧν ἔμοιγε δοκέει οὐδὲ τὸ Πελασγικὸν ἔθνος, ἐὸν 
+βάρβαρον, οὐδαμὰ μεγάλως αὐξηθῆναι. 
+^ » 
+59. Τούτων δὴ ὧν τῶν ἐθνέων τὸ μὲν ᾿Αττικὸν 
+la 
+κατεχόμενόν τε καὶ διεσπασμένον ἐπυνθάνετο ὁ 
+
+
+64 
+
+
+BOOK I. 57-59 
+
+
+57. What language the Pelasgians spoke I cannot 
+accurately say. But if one may judge by those that 
+still remain of the Pelasgians who dwell above the 
+Tyrrheni! in the city of Creston—who were once 
+neighbours of the people now called Dorians, and at 
+that time inhabited the country which now is called 
+Thessalian—and of the Pelasgians who inhabited 
+Placia and Scylace on the Hellespont, who came to 
+dwell among the Athenians, and by other towns too 
+which were once Pelasgian and afterwards took a 
+different name :—if (I say) one may judge by these, 
+the Pelasgians spoke a language which was not Greek. 
+If then all the Pelasgian stock so spoke, then the 
+Attic nation, being of Pelasgian blood, must have 
+changed its language too at the tme when it became 
+part of the Hellenes. For the people of Creston 
+and Placia have a language of their own in common, 
+which is not the language of their neighbours; and it 
+is plain that they still preserve the fashion of speech 
+which they brought with them in their migration 
+into the places where they dwell. 
+
+58. But the Hellenic stock, as to me seems clear, 
+has ever used the same language since its beginning ; 
+yet being, when separated from the Pelasgians, but 
+few in number, they have grown from a small begin- 
+ning to comprise a multitude of nations, chiefly 
+because the Pelasgians and many other foreign 
+peoples united themselves with them. Before that, 
+as I think, the Pelasgic stock nowhere increased 
+greatly in number while it was of foreign speech. 
+
+59. Now, of these two peoples, Croesus learned 
+that the Attic was held in subjection and divided 
+
+
+! If these are the Etruscans, then Creston may = Cortona : 
+but the whole matter is doubtful. 
+
+
+65 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Κροῖσος ὑπὸ Πεισιστράτου τοῦ “Ἱπποκράτεος 
+τοῦτον τὸν χρόνον τυραννεύοντος ᾿Αθηναίων. 
+Ἱπποκράτεϊ γὰρ ἐόντι ἰδιώτῃ καὶ θεωρέοντι τὰ 
+Ὀλύμπια τέρας ἐγένετο μέγα: θύσαντος γὰρ 
+αὐτοῦ τὰ ipa οἱ λέβητες ἐπεστεῶτες καὶ κρεῶν 
+τε ἐόντες ἔμπλεοι καὶ ὕδατος ἄνευ πυρὸς ἔζεσαν 
+καὶ ὑπερέβαλον. Χίλων δὲ ὁ Λακεδαιμόνιος 
+παρατυχὼν καὶ θεησάμενος τὸ τέρας συνεβούλευε 
+Ἱπποκράτει πρῶτα μὲν γυναῖκα μὴ ἄγεσθαι τέκ- 
+νοποιὸν ἐς τὰ οἰκία, εἰ δὲ τυγχάνει ἔχων, δεύτερα 
+τὴν γυναῖκα ἐκπέμπειν, καὶ εἴ τίς οἱ τυγχάνει ἐὼν 
+παῖς, τοῦτον ἀπείπασθαι. οὕκων ταῦτα παραινέ- 
+σαντος Χίλωνος πείθεσθαι θέλειν τὸν Ἱπποκράτεα: 
+γενέσθαι οἱ μετὰ ταῦτα τὸν Πεισίστρατον τοῦτον, 
+ὃς στασιαζόντων τῶν παράλων καὶ τῶν ἐκ τοῦ 
+πεδίου ᾿Αθηναίων, καὶ τῶν μὲν προεστεῶτος 
+Μεγακλέος τοῦ ᾿Αλκμέωνος, τῶν δὲ ἐκ τοῦ πεδίου 
+Λυκούργου ᾿Αριστολαΐδεω, καταφρονήσας τὴν 
+τυραννίδα ἤγειρε τρίτην στάσιν" συλλέξας δὲ 
+στασιώτας καὶ τῷ λόγῳ τῶν ὑπερακρίων προστὰς 
+μηχανᾶται τοιάδε. τρωματίσας ἑωυτόν τε καὶ 
+ἡμιόνους ἤλασε ἐς τὴν ἀγορὴν τὸ ζεῦγος ὡς 
+ἐκπεφευγὼς τοὺς ἐχθρούς, οἵ μιν ἐλαύνοντα ἐς 
+ἀγρὸν ἠθέλησαν ἀπολέσαι δῆθεν, ἐδέετό τε τοῦ 
+δήμου φυλακῆς τινος πρὸς αὐτοῦ κυρῆσαι, πρό- 
+τερον εὐδοκιμήσας ἐν τῇ πρὸς Μεγαρέας γενομένῃ 
+στρατηγίῃ, Νίσαιάν τε ἑλὼν καὶ ἄλλα ἀποδεξά- 
+μενος μεγάλα ἔργα. ὁ δὲ δῆμος ὁ τῶν ᾿Αθηναίων 
+ἐξαπατηθεὶς ἔδωκέ οἱ τῶν ἀστῶν καταλέξας 
+ἄνδρας τούτους οἳ δορυφόροι μὲν οὐκ ἐγένοντο 
+Πεισιστράτου, κορυνηφόροι δέ: ξύλων γὰρ κορύνας 
+ἔχοντες εἶποντό οἱ ὄπισθε. συνεπαναστάντες δὲ | 
+
+
+66 
+
+
+BOOK I. 59 
+
+
+into factions by Pisistratus son of Hippocrates, who 
+at that time was sovereign over the Athenians. 
+This Hippocrates was but a private man when a 
+great marvel happened to him as he was at 
+Olympia to see the games: when he had offered 
+the sacrifice, the vessels, standing there full of meat 
+and water, boiled without fire till they overflowed. 
+Chilon the Lacedaemonian, who chanced to be 
+there and saw this marvel, counselled Hippocrates 
+not to take into his house a childbearing wife, if 
+so might be: but if he had one already, then at 
+least to send her away, and if he had a son, to disown 
+him. Hippocrates refused to follow the counsel of 
+Chilon, and presently there was born to him this 
+Pisistratus aforesaid. In course of time there was a 
+feud between the Athenians of the coast under 
+Megacles son of Alcmeon and the Athenians of the 
+plain under Lycurgus son of Aristolaides. Pisistratus 
+then, having an eye to the sovereign power, raised 
+up a third faction. He collected partisans and pre- 
+tended to champion the hillmen; and this was his 
+plan. Wounding himself and his mules, he drove his 
+carriage into the market place with a tale that he 
+had escaped from his enemies, who would have slain 
+him (so he said) as he was driving into the country. 
+So he besought the people that he might have a 
+guard from them: and indeed he had won himself 
+reputation in his command of the army against the 
+Megarians, when he had taken Nisaea and performed 
+other great exploits. Thus deceived, the Athenian 
+people gave him a chosen guard of citizens, of whom 
+Pisistratus made not spearmen but clubmen: for the 
+retinue that followed him bore wooden clubs. These 
+
+
+67 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οὗτοι ἅμα. Πεισιστράτῳ ἔσχον τὴν ἀκρόπολιν. 
+ἔνθα δὴ 0 Πεισίστρατος ἦρχε. ᾿Αθηναίων, οὔτε 
+τιμὰς τὰς ἐούσας ᾿συνταράξας οὔτε θέσμια μεταλ.- 
+λάξας, è ἐπί τε τοῖσι κατεστεῶσι ἔνεμε τὴν πόλιν 
+κοσμέων καλῶς τε καὶ εὖ. 
+
+60. Mera δὲ οὗ πολλὸν χρόνον. τὠυτὸ φρονή- 
+σαντες ot τε τοῦ Μεγακλέος στασιῶται καὶ οἱ τοῦ 
+Λυκούργου ἐξελαύνουσί μιν. οὕτω «μὲν Πεισί- 
+στρατος ἔσχε τὸ πρῶτον ᾿Αθήνας, καὶ τὴν τυραν- 
+vida οὕκω κάρτα ἐρριξωμένην € ἔχων ἀπέβαλε. οἳ 
+δὲ ἐξελάσαντες Πεισίστρατον αὖτις ἐκ νέης ἐπ᾿ 
+ἀλλήλοισι ἐστασίασαν. περιελαυνόμενος δὲ τῇ 
+στάσι o Μεγακλέης ἐπεκηρυκεύετο Πεισιστράτῳ, 
+εἰ βούλοιτό οἱ τὴν θυγατέρα € ἔχειν γυναῖκα ἐπὶ τῇ 
+τυραννίδι. ἐνδεξαμένου δὲ τὸν λόγον καὶ ὁμολο- 
+γήσαντος ἐπὶ τούτοισι Πεισιστράτου, μηχανῶνται 
+δὴ ἐπὶ τῇ κατόδῳ πρῆγμα εὐηθέστατον, ὡς ἐγὼ 
+εὑρίσκω, μακρῷ, ἐπεί γε ἀπεκρίθη. ἐκ παλαιτέρου 
+τοῦ BapBápov ἔθνεος τὸ Ἑλληνικὸν ἐὸν καὶ 
+δεξιώτερον καὶ εὐηθείης. ἠλιθίου ἀπηλλαγμένον 
+μᾶλλον, ei. καὶ τότε γε οὗτοι ἐν ᾿Αθηναίοισι τοῖσι 
+πρώτοισι λεγόμένοισι εἶναι Ἑλλήνων σοφίην 
+μηχανῶνται τοιάδε, ἐν τῷ δήμῳ τῷ Ἡαιανιέι ἡ ἦν 
+γυνὴ. τῇ οὔνομα ἦν Φύη, μέγαθος ἀπὸ τεσσέρων 
+πηχέων ἀπολείπουσα τρεῖς δακτύλους καὶ ἄλλως 
+εὐειδής’. ταύτην τὴν γυναῖκα σκευάσαντες Tavo- 
+πλίῃ, ἐς ἅρμα ἐσβιβάσαντες καὶ προδέξαντες 
+σχῆμα οἷόν τι ἔμελλε εὐπρεπέστατον ανέεσθαι 
+ἔχουσα, ἤλαυνον ἐς τὸ ἄστυ, πβοδρόµους κή- 
+ρυκας προπέμψαντες: οἳ τὰ ἐντεταλμένα ἠγόρευον 
+ἀπικόμενοι ἐς τὸ ἄστυ, λέγοντες τοιάδε- eo 
+
+᾿Αθηναῖοι, δέκεσθε ἀγαθῷ νόῳ Πεισίστρατον, τὸν 
+
+
+68 
+
+
+BOOK I. 59-60 
+
+
+with Pisistratus rose and took the Acropolis; and 
+Pisistratus ruled the Athenians, disturbing in no way 
+the order of offices nor changing the laws, but 
+governing the city according to its established 
+constitution and ordering all things fairly and 
+well. 
+
+60. But after no long time the faction of Megacles 
+and Lycurgus made common cause and drove him 
+out. Thus did Pisistratus first win Athens, and thus 
+did he lose his sovereignty, which was not yet firmly 
+rooted. Presently his enemies who had driven him 
+out began once more to be at feud together. 
+Megacles then, being buffeted about by faction, 
+sent a message to Pisistratus offering him his daughter 
+to wife and the sovereign power besides. This offer 
+being accepted by Pisistratus, who agreed on these 
+terms with Megacles, they devised a plan to bring 
+Pisistratus back, which, to my mind, was so exceeding 
+foolish that it is strange (seeing that from old times 
+the Hellenic has ever been distinguished from the 
+foreign stock by its greater cleverness and its freedom 
+from silly foolishness) that these men should devise 
+such a plan to deceive Athenians, said to be the cun- 
+ningest of the Greeks. There was in the Paeanian 
+deme! a woman called Phya, three fingers short of 
+four cubits in stature, and for the rest fair to look 
+upon. This woman they equipped in full armour, 
+and put her in a chariot, giving her all such appurten- 
+ances as would make the seemliest show, and so 
+drove into the city; heralds ran before them, and 
+when they came into the town made proclamation 
+as they were charged, bidding the Athenians * to 
+give a hearty welcome to Pisistratus, whom Athene 
+
+
+1 Local division of Attica: 
+
+
+69 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+αὐτὴ ἡ ᾿Αθηναίη, τιμήσασα ἀνθρώπων μάλιστα 
+κατάγει ἐς τὴν ἑωυτῆς ἀκρόπολιν. " ob μὲν δὴ 
+ταῦτα διαφοιτέοντες ἔλεγον" αὐτίκα δὲ ἔς τε τοὺς 
+δήμους φάτις ἀπίκετο ὡς ᾿Αθηναίη Πεισίστρατον 
+κατάγει, καὶ οὗ ἐν τῷ ἄστεϊ πειθόμενοι τὴν γυναῖκα 
+εἶναι αὐτὴν τὴν θεὸν προσεύχοντό τε τὴν ἄν- 
+θρωπον καὶ ἐδέκοντο Πεισίστρατον. 
+
+61. ᾿Απολαβὼν δὲ τὴν τυ αννίδα τρόπῳ τῷ 
+εἰρημένῳ ὁ Πεισίστρατος κατὰ τὴν ὁμολογίην τὴν 
+πρὸς Μεγακλέα γενομένην γαμέει τοῦ Μεγακλέος 
+
+
+υπὴν θυγατέρα. οἷα δὲ παίδων τέ οἱ ὑπαρχόντων 
+
+
+ veqviéov καὶ λεγομένων ἐναγέων εἶναι τῶν ANK- 
+μεωνιδέων, οὐ βουλόμεν ς οἱ γενέσθαι ἐκ τῆς 
+νεογάμου ( γυναικὸς réra) | [σγετὀ οἱ οὐ κατὰ 
+σα τὰ μέν | νυν πρῶτα ἔκρυπτε ταῦτα 7 γυνή, 
+μετὰ | à εἴτε ἱστορεύσῃ εἴτε καὶ. οὗ) φράξει]τῇ 
+ἑωυτῆς μητρί, ἣ δὲ τῷ ἀνδρί, ὀργῇ δὲ ὡς εἶχε 
+καταλλάσσετο τὴν ἔχθρην τοῖσι στασιώτῃσι. 
+μαθὼν δὲ ὁ Πεισίστρατος τὰ ποιεύμενα ἐπ᾽ ἑωυτῷ 
+ἀπαλλάσσετο ἐκ τῆς χώρης τὸ παράπαν, ἀπικὸ; 
+μενος δὲ ἐς ᾿Ερέτριαν ἐβουλεύετο ἅ ἅμα τοῖσι παισί. 
+Ἱππίεω δὲ γνώμῃ νικήσαντος ἀνακτᾶσθαι ὀπίσω 
+τὴν τυραννίδα, ἐνθαῦτα ἤγειρον δωτίνας ἐς τῶν 
+πολέων αἵτινές σφι προαιδέοντό κού τι. πολλῶν 
+δὲ μεγάλα παρασχόντων χρήματα, Θηβαῖοι à ὑπερε- 
+βάλοντο τῇ δόσι τῶν χρημάτων. μετὰ δέ, οὗ 
+πολλῷ λόγῳ εἰπεῖν, χρόνος διέφυ καὶ πάντα σφι 
+ἐξήρτυτο ἐς τὴν κάτοδον' καὶ γὰρ ᾿Αργεῖοι pts- 
+θωτοὶ ἆ ἀπίκοντο ἐκ Πελοποννήσου, καὶ Νάξιός σφι 
+ἀνὴρ ἀπιγμένος ἐθελοντής, τῷ οὔνομα ἦν Λύγ- 
+δαµις, προθυμίην πλείστην παρείχετο, κομίσας 
+καὶ χρήματα καὶ ἄνδρας. 
+
+
+1ο 
+
+
+BOOK I. 6ο-6χ 
+
+
+herself honoured beyond all men and was bringing 
+back to her own citadel.” So the heralds went about 
+and spoke thus: immediately it was reported in the 
+demes that Athene was bringing Pisistratus back, 
+and the townsfolk, persuaded that the woman was 
+indeed the goddess, worshipped this human creature 
+and welcomed Pisistratus. 
+
+61. Having won back his sovereignty in the man- 
+ner which I have shown, Pisistratus married Megacles' 
+daughter according to his agreement with Megacles. 
+But as he had already young sons, and the Alemeonid 
+family were said to be under a curse, he had no wish 
+that his newly wed wife should bear him children, 
+and therefore had wrongful intercourse with her. At 
+first the woman hid the matter: presently she told 
+her mother (whether being asked or not, I know not) 
+and the mother told her husband. Megacles was 
+very angry that Pisistratus should do him dishonour: 
+and in his wrath he made up his quarrel with the 
+other faction.  Pisistratus, learning what was afoot, 
+went by himself altogether away from the country, 
+and came to Eretria, where he took counsel with 
+his sons. The counsel of Hippias prevailing, that 
+they should recover the sovereigntv, they set to 
+collecting gifts from all cities which owed them some 
+requital. Many of these gave great sums, the 
+Thebans more than any, and in course of time, 
+not to make a long story, all was ready for their 
+return: for they brought Argive mercenaries from 
+Peloponnesus, and there came also of his own free 
+will a man of Naxos called Lygdamis, who was 
+most zealous in their cause and brought them 
+money and men. 
+
+
+71 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+62. Ἐξ Ἐρετρίης δὲ ὁρμηθέντες διὰ ἑνδεκάτου 
+ἔτεος ἀπίκοντο ὀπίσω, καὶ πρῶτον τῆς ᾿Αττικῆς 
+ἴσχουσι Μαραθῶνα. ἐν δὲ τούτῳ τῷ χώρῳ σφι 
+στρατοπεδευομένοισι οὗ τε ἐκ τοῦ ἄστεος στα- 
+σιῶται ἀπίκοντο ἄλλοι τε ἐκ τῶν δήµων προσ- 
+έρρεον, τοῖσι ἡ τυραννὶς πρὸ ἐλευθερίης ἡ ἦν acta- 
+στότερον. οὗτοι μὲν δὴ συνηλίζοντο, ᾿Αθηναίων 
+δὲ οἱ ἐκ τοῦ ἄστεος, ἕως μὲν Πεισίστρατος τὰ 
+χρήματα ἤγειρε, καὶ μεταῦτις ὡς ἔσχε Μαραθῶνα, 
+λόγον οὐδένα εἶχον" ἐπείτε δὲ ἐπύθοντο ἐκ 
+τοῦ Μαραθῶνος αὐτὸν πορεύεσθαι ἐπὶ τὸ ἄστυ, 
+οὕτω δὴ Βοηθέουσι ἐπ᾽ αὐτόν. καὶ οὗτοί τε 
+πανστρατιῇ ἤισαν ἐπὶ τοὺς κατιόντας, καὶ οἱ 
+ἀμφὶ Πεισίστρατον, ὡς ὁρμηθέντες ἐ ἐκ Μαραθῶνος 
+ἤισαν ἐπὶ τὸ ἄστυ, ἐς τὠυτὸ συνιόντες ἀπικ- 
+νέονται ἐπὶ Παλληνίδος ᾿Αθηναίης i ἱρόν, καὶ ἀντία 
+ἔθεντο τὰ ὅπλα. ἐνθαῦτα θείῃ πομπῇ Χρεώμενος 
+παρίσταται Πεισιστράτῳ ᾽Αμϕίλυτος. ο Ακαρνὰν 
+χρησμολόγος ἀνήρ, ὃς οἱ προσιὼν χρᾷ ἐν ἑξαμέτρῳ 
+τόνῳ τάδε λέγων" 
+
+
+i Ἔρρυπται δ᾽ ὁ βόλος, τὸ δὲ δίκτυον ἐ ἐκπεπέτασται, 
+θύννοι δ᾽ οἰμήσουσι σεληναίης διὰ νυκτός. 
+
+
+63. Ὃ μὲν δή οἱ ἐνθεάξων χρᾷ τάδε, Hesi- 
+στρατος δὲ συλλαβὼν τὸ χρηστήριον καὶ φὰς 
+δέκεσθαι τὸ χρησθὲν ἐ ἐπῆγε τὴν στρατιήν. ᾿Αθη- 
+vato δὲ οἱ ἐκ τοῦ ἄστεος πρὸς ἄριστον τετραμ- 
+μένοι ἧσαν δὴ τηνικαῦτα, καὶ μετὰ τὸ ἄριστον 
+μετεξέτεροι αὐτῶν οἳ μὲν πρὸς κύβους οἳ δὲ πρὸς 
+ὕπνον. οἱ δὲ ἀμφὶ Πεισίστρατον ἐσπεσόντες 
+τοὺς ᾿Αθηναίους τράπουσι. φευγόντων δέ τούτων 
+βουλὴν ἐνθαῦτα σοφωτάτην Πεισίστρατος ἐπετε- 
+
+
+72 
+
+
+BOOK I. 62-63 
+
+
+62. Soafter ten years they set out from Eretria and 
+returned home. The first place in Attica which 
+they took and held was Marathon: and while en- 
+camped there they were joined by their partisans 
+from the city, and by others who flocked to them 
+from the country demes—men who loved the rule of 
+one more than freedom. These, then, assembled; but 
+the Athenians in the city, who, while Pisistratus was 
+collecting money and afterwards when he had taken 
+Marathon, made no account of it, did now, when 
+they learnt that he was marching from Marathon 
+against Athens, set out to attack him. They came 
+out with all their force to meet the returning exiles. 
+Pisistratus men, in their march from Marathon 
+towards the city, encountered the enemy when they 
+had reached the temple of Pallenian Athene, and 
+encamped face to face with them. There (by the 
+providence of heaven) Pisistratus met Amphilytus 
+the Acarnanian, a diviner, who came to him and 
+prophesied as follows in hexameter verses : 
+
+
+* Now hath the cast been thrown and the net of 
+the fisher is outspread : 
+All in the moonlight clear shall the tunny-fish 
+come for the taking." 
+
+
+63. So spoke Amphilytus, being inspired; Pisi- 
+stratus understood him, and, saying that he received 
+the prophecy, led his army against the enemy. The 
+Athenians of the city had at this time gone to their 
+breakfast, and after breakfast some betook themselves 
+to dicing and some to sleep: they were attacked by 
+Pisistratus men and put to flight. So they fled, 
+and Pisistratus devised a very subtle plan to keep 
+
+
+73 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+χνᾶται, ὅκως μήτε ἁλισθεῖεν ἔτι οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι 
+διεσκεδασμένοι τε εἶεν: ἀναβιβάσας τοὺς παῖδας 
+ἐπὶ ἵππους προέπεμπε, οἳ δὲ καταλαμβάνοντες 
+τοὺς φεύγοντας ἔλεγον τὰ ἐντεταλμένα ὑπὸ Πεισι- 
+στράτου, θαρσέειν τε κελεύοντες καὶ ἀπιέναι 
+ἕκαστον ἐπὶ τὰ ἑωυτοῦ. 
+
+64. Πειθομένων δὲ τῶν ᾿Αθηναίων, οὕτω δὴ 
+Πεισίστρατος τὸ τρίτον σχὼν ᾿Αθήνας ἐρρίζωσε 
+τὴν τυρρανίδα ἐπικούροισί τε πολλοῖσι καὶ χρη- 
+μάτων συνόδοισι, τῶν μὲν αὐτόθεν τῶν δὲ ἀπὸ 
+Στρυμόνος ποταμοῦ συνιόντων, ὁμήρους τε τῶν 
+παραμεινάντων ᾿Αθηναίων καὶ μὴ αὐτίκα φυγόν- 
+των παῖδας λαβὼν καὶ καταστήσας ἐς Νάξον 
+(καὶ γὰρ ταύτην ὁ Πεισίστρατος κατεστρέψατο 
+πολέμῳ καὶ ἐπέτρεψε Λυγδάμι), πρός τε ἔτι 
+τούτοισι τὴν νῆσον Δῆλον καθήρας ἐκ τῶν λογίων, 
+καθήρας δὲ ὧδε' ἐπ᾽ ὅσον ἔποψις τοῦ ἱροῦ εἶχε, 
+ἐκ τούτου τοῦ χώρου παντὸς ἐξορύξας τοὺς 
+νεκροὺς μετεφόρεε ἐς ἄλλον χῶρον τῆς Δήλου. 
+καὶ Ι]εισίστρατος μὲν ἐτυράννευε ᾿Αθηνέων, Αθη- 
+ναίων δὲ o? μὲν ἐν τῇ μά» η ἐπεπτώκεσαν, oi δὲ 
+αὐτῶν μετ᾽ ᾽Αλκμεωνιδέων εφευγον ἐκ τῆς οἰκηΐης. 
+
+65. Τοὺς μέν νυν ᾿Αθηναίους τοιαῦτα τὸν χρό- 
+νον τοῦτον ἐπυνθάνετο ὁ Κροῖσος κατέχοντα, τοὺς 
+δὲ Λακεδαιμονίους ἐκ κακῶν τε μεγάλων πεφευ- 
+γότας καὶ ἐόντας ἤδη τῷ πολέμῳ κατυπερτέρους 
+Τεγεητέων. ἐπὶ γὰρ Λέοντος βασιλεύοντος καὶ 
+Ἡγησικλέος ἐν Σπάρτῃ τοὺς ἄλλους πολέμους 
+εὐτυχέοντες οἱ Λακεδαιμόνιοι πρὸς Τεγεήτας μού- 
+νους προσέπταιον. τὸ δὲ ἔτι πρότερον τούτων 
+καὶ κακονομώτατοι ἦσαν σχεδὸν πάντων Ἑλλή- 
+νων κατά τε σφέας αὐτοὺς καὶ ξείνοισι ἀπρόσμι- 
+
+
+74 
+
+
+BOOK I. 63-65 
+
+
+them scattered and prevent their assembling again : 
+he mounted his sons and bade them ride forward : 
+they overtook the fugitives and spoke to them as 
+they were charged by Pisistratus, bidding them take 
+heart and depart each man to his home. 
+
+64. This the Athenians did; and by this means 
+Pisistratus gained Athens for the third time, where, 
+that his sovereignty might be well rooted, he made 
+himself a strong guard and collected revenue both 
+from Athens and from the district of the river 
+Strymon, and took as hostages the sons of the Athen- 
+ians who remained and did not at once leave the city, 
+and placed these in Naxos. (He had conquered 
+Naxos too and given it in charge to Lygdamis.) 
+Moreover, he purified the island of Delos according 
+to the bidding of the oracles, and this is how he did 
+it: he removed all the dead that were buried in 
+ground within sight of the temple and carried them 
+to another part of Delos. So Pisistratus was 
+sovereign of Athens: and as for the Athenians, some 
+had fallen in the battle, and some, with the 
+Alcmeonids, were exiles from their native land. 
+
+65. Croesus learnt, then, that such at this time 
+was the plight of the Athenians: the Lacedaemon- 
+ians, as he heard, had escaped from great calamities, 
+and had by this time got the upper hand of the 
+men of Tegea in their war; for in the kingship 
+of Leon and Hegesicles at Sparta, the Lacedae- 
+monians were victorious in their other wars, but 
+against Tegea alone they met with no success. And 
+not only so, but before this they were the worst 
+governed of well nigh all the Greeks, having little 
+intercourse among themselves or with strangers. 
+
+
+VOL.1. D 15 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+κτοι' μετέβαλον δὲ ὧδε ἐς εὐνομίην. Λυκούργου 
+
+τῶν Σπαρτιητέων δοκίμου ἀνδρὸς ἐλθόντος ἐς 
+
+Δελφοὺς ἐπὶ τὸ χρηστήριον, ὡς ἐσήιε ἐς τὸ μέ- 
+sys e* / / ή 
+
+γαρον, εὐθὺς ἡ Πυθίη λέγει τάδε. 
+
+
+** "Heic ὦ Λυκόοργε ἐμὸν ποτὶ πίονα νηόν 
+Ζηνὶ φίλος καὶ πᾶσιν Ὀλύμπια δώματ᾽ ἔχουσι. 
+δίζω Ñ σε θεὸν μαντεύσομαι ἢ ἄνθρωπον. 
+ἀλλ᾽ ἔτι καὶ μᾶλλον θεὸν ἔλπομαι, ὦ Λυκόοργε.᾽ 
+
+
+οἳ μὲν δή τινες πρὸς τούτοισι λέγουσι καὶ φράσαι 
+αὐτῷ τὴν Πυθίην τὸν νῦν κατεστεῶτα κόσμον 
+Σπαρτιήτῃσι: ὡς δ᾽ αὐτοὶ Λακεδαιμόνιοι λέγουσι, 
+Λυκοῦργον ἐπιτροπεύσαντα Λεωβώτεω, ἀδελφι- 
+δέου μὲν ἑωυτοῦ βασιλεύοντος δὲ Σπαρτιητέων, 
+ἐκ Κρήτης ἀγαγέσθαι ταῦτα. ὡς γὰρ ἐπετρό- 
+πευσε τάχιστα, μετέστησε τὰ νόμιμα πάντα, καὶ 
+ἐφύλαξε ταῦτα μὴ παραβαίνειν: μετὰ δὲ τὰ ἐς 
+πόλεμον ἔχοντα, ἐνωμοτίας καὶ τριηκάδας καὶ 
+συσσίτια, πρός τε τούτοισι τοὺς ἐφόρους καὶ γέ- 
+ροντας ἔστησε Λυκοῦργος. 
+e? b [4 , ΄ - 
+l 66. Οὕτω μὲν μεταβαλόντες εὐνομήθησαν, τῷ 
+δὲ Λυκούργῳ τελευτήσαντι ἱρὸν εἰσάμενοι σέβον- 
+4 \ , 3 ^ M 4 
+ται μεγάλως. οἷα δὲ ἔν τε χώρῃ ἀγαθῇ καὶ πλή- 
+θεῖ οὐκ ὀλίγων ἀνδρῶν, ἀνά τε ἔδραμον αὐτίκα καὶ 
+60 46 . ὃ , 9 / , [4 ς ΄ 
+εὐθηνήθησαν, καὶ δή σφι οὐκέτι ἀπέχρα ἡσυχίην 
+y 9 4 3 / Η 
+ἄγειν, ἀλλὰ καταφρονήσαντες ᾿Αρκάδων κρέσ- 
+j ” ; , ? ^ C \ 
+σονες εἶναι ἐχρηστηριάζοντο ἐν Δελφοῖσι ἐπὶ 
+^9» ^ 
+πάσῃ τῇ Αρκάδων χώρῃ. ἡ δὲ Πυθίη σφι χρᾷ 
+τάδε. 
+16 
+
+
+BOOK I. 65-66 
+
+
+Thus then they changed their laws for the better :— 
+Lycurgus, à notable Spartan, visited the oracle at 
+Delphi, and when he entered the temple hall, 
+straightway the priestess gave him this response: 
+
+
+* Dear to Zeus thou hast come to my well-stored 
+temple, Lycurgus, 
+Dear to Zeus and to all who dwell in the courts of 
+Olympus. 
+Art thou a man or a god? 'Tis a god I deem thee, 
+Lycurgus." 
+
+
+Some say that the priestess moreover declared to 
+him the whole governance of Sparta which is now 
+established ; but the Lacedaemonians themselves 
+relate that it was from Crete that Lycurgus brought 
+these changes, he being then guardian of Leobotes 
+his nephew, king of Sparta. As soon as he became 
+guardian he changed all the laws of the country and 
+was careful that none should transgress his ordi- 
+nances, and afterwards it was Lycurgus who estab- 
+lished all that related to war, the sworn companies, 
+and the bands of thirty, and the common meals: 
+and besides these, the ephors, and the council of 
+elders. 
+
+66. So they changed their bad laws for good ones, 
+and when Lycurgus died they built him a shrine 
+and now greatly revere him. Then, since their land 
+was good and their men were many, very soon they 
+began to flourish and prosper. Nor were they 
+satisfied to remain at peace: but being assured that 
+they were stronger than the Arcadians, they inquired 
+of the oracle at Delphi, with their minds set on the 
+whole of Arcadia. The Pythian priestess gave them 
+this reply : 
+
+
+77 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+“Αρκαδίην p αἰτεῖς" μέγα μ᾽ αἰτεῖς' οὔ τοι δώσω. 
+πολλοὶ ἐν ᾿Αρκαδίῃ βαλανηφάγοι ἄνδρες ἔασιν, 
+οἵ σ᾽ ἀποκωλύσουσιν. ἐγὼ δέ τοι οὔτι µεγαίρω' 
+δώσω τοι Τεγέην ποσσίκροτον ὀρχήσασθαι 
+
+b / / , 3» 
+καὶ καλὸν πεδίον σχοίνῳ διαμετρήσασθαι. 
+
+
+ταῦτα ὡς ἀπενειχθέντα ἤκουσαν οἱ Λακεδαιμό- 
+νιοι, ᾿Αρκάδων μὲν τῶν ἄλλων ἀπείχοντο, οἳ δὲ 
+πέδας φερόμενοι ἐπὶ Τεγεήτας ἐστρατεύοντο, χρη- 
+^ / / ε \ 3 4 
+σμῷ κιβδήλῳ πίσυνοι, ὡς δὴ ἐξανδραποδιούμενοι 
+4 / ς / N ^ ~A ο 
+τοὺς Τεγεήτας. ἑσσωθέντες δὲ τῇ συμβολῇ, ὅσοι 
+3. ^ > 4 / y 4 3 / 
+αὐτῶν ἐξωγρήθησαν, πέδας τε ἔχοντες τὰς ἐφέ- 
+ροντο αὐτοὶ καὶ σχοίνῳ διαμετρησάμενοι τὸ πεδίον 
+. ’ 3 / ε pS , 2 3 
+τὸ Τεγεητέων ἐργάζοντο. αἱ δὲ πέδαι αὗται ἐν 
+e 25 ὃ 4 X 9 > \ 4 4 Σ ld 
+τῇσι ἐδεδέατο ETL καὶ ἐς ἐμὲ ἦσαν coat ἐν Teyén, 
+NE NE ` κ. 2 / / , j 
+περὶ τὸν νηὸν τὴς Αλέης ᾿Αθηναίης κρεμάμεναι. 
+67. Κατὰ μὲν δὴ τὸν πρότερον πόλεμον συνε- 
+/ , ^ 97 N \ 7 
+χέως αἰεὶ κακῶς ἀέθλεον πρὸς τοὺς Τεγεήτας, 
+N \ v M ^ / M 9 
+κατὰ δὲ τὸν κατὰ Κροῖσον χρόνον καὶ τὴν ᾿Ανα- 
+ξανδρίδεώ τε καὶ ᾿Αρύστωνος βασιληίην ἐν Aaxe- 
+δαύμονι ἤδη οἱ Σπαρτιῆται κατυπέρτεροι τῷ πο- 
+λέμῳ ἐγεγόνεσαν, τρόπῳ τοιῷδε γενόμενοι. ἐπειδὴ 
+9 ^ / e ^ e N / / 
+αἰεὶ τῷ πολέμῳ ἑσσοῦντο ὑπὸ Τεγεητέων, πέµψαν- 
+, 2 s 3 , ld 
+τες θεοπρόπους ἐς Δελφοὺς ἐπειρώτων τίνα ἂν 
+^ ε / 4 ^ / ’ 
+θεῶν ἱλασάμενοι κατύπερθε τῷ πολέμῳ Τεγεητέων 
+ή . , 
+γενοίατο. ἡ δὲ Πυθίη σφι ἔχρησε τὰ Ὀρέστεω 
+^ 3 2 ? [4 > ε 
+τοῦ ᾿Αγαμέμνονος ὀστέα ἐπαγαγομένους. ὡς δὲ 
+78 
+
+
+BOOK I. 66-67 
+
+
+* Askest Arcadia from me? ’Tis a boon too great 
+
+for the giving. 
+
+Many Arcadians there are, stout heroes, eaters of 
+acorns,— 
+
+These shall hinder thee sore. Yet 'tis not I that 
+begrudge thee: 
+
+Lands Tegeaean I'll give thee, to smite with feetin 
+the dancing, ( 
+
+Also the fertile plain with line I'll give thee to 
+measure.” 
+
+
+When this was brought back to the ears of the 
+Lacedaemonians, they let the rest of the Arcadians be, 
+and marched against the men of Tegea carrying 
+fetters with them ; for they trusted in the quibbling 
+oracle and thought they would enslave the Tegeans, 
+But they were worsted in the encounter, and those 
+of them who were taken captive were made to till 
+the Tegean plain, wearing the fetters which they 
+themselves had brought and measuring the land with 
+a line.| These fetters, in which they were bound, 
+were still in my time kept safe at Tegea, where they 
+were hung round the temple of Athene Alea. 
+
+67. In the former war, then, the Lacedaemonians 
+wereunceasingly defeated in their contest with Tegea; 
+but in the time of Croesus, and the kingship of 
+Anaxandrides and Ariston at Sparta, the Spartans 
+had now gained the upper hand ; and this is how it 
+came about. Being always worsted by the Tegeatae, 
+they sent inquirers to Delphi and asked what god 
+they should propitiate so as to gain the mastery over 
+Tegea in war. The Pythian priestess declared that 
+they must bring home the bones of Orestes son of 
+Agamemnon. Being unable to discover Orestes' 
+
+
+1 That is, mapping the land out for cultivation. 
+
+
+79 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+? ^ 3 ẹ + 9 7 X 4 e^)» / 
+
+ἀνευρεῖν οὐκ olot τε ἐγίνοντο τὴν θήκην τοῦ Opé- 
+
+στεω, ἔπεμπον αὖτις τὴν ἐς θεὸν ἐπειρησομένους 
+
+τὸν χῶρον ἐν τῷ κέοιτο Ὀρέστης. εἰρωτῶσι δὲ 
+^ ^ , [4 e / , 
+
+ταῦτα τοῖσι θεοπρόποισι λέγει ἡ Πυθίη τάδε. 
+
+
+“«"Ἔστι τις ᾿Αρκαδίης Τεγέη λευρῷ ἐνὶ χώρῳ, 
+ἔνθ᾽ ἄνεμοι πνείουσι δύω κρατερῆς ὑπ᾽ ἀνάγκης, 
+καὶ τύπος ἀντίτυπος, καὶ πῆμ ἐπὶ πήματι 
+
+κεῖται. 
+ἔνθ᾽ ᾿Αγαμεμνονίδην κατέχει φυσίξοος aia, 
+τὸν σὺ κομισσάμενος Τεγέης ἐπιτάρροθος Exon.” 
+
+
+ὡς δὲ καὶ ταῦτα ἤκουσαν οἱ Λακεδαιμόνιοι, ἀπεῖ- 
+^ > $ 204 » Ld , 
+χον τῆς ἐξευρέσιος οὐδὲν ἔλασσον, πάντα διζή- 
+μενοι, ἐς οὗ δὴ Λίχης τῶν ἀγαθοεργῶν καλεομέ- 
+νων Σπαρτιητέων ἀνεῦρε. οἱ δὲ ἀγαθοεργοὶ εἰσὶ 
+τῶν ἀστῶν, ἐξιόντες ἐκ τῶν ἑὑππέων αἰεὶ οἱ 
+πρεσβύτατοι, πέντε ἔτεος ἑκάστου' τοὺς δεῖ τοῦ- 
+τον τὸν ἐνιαυτόν, τὸν ἂν ἐξίωσι ἐκ τῶν ἱππέων, 
+/, ^ e^ ΄ . 
+
+Σπαρτιητέων τῷ κοινῷ διαπεμπομένους μὴ ἐλινύειν 
+ἄλλους ἄλλη. 
+
+68. Ῥούτων ὧν τῶν ἀνδρῶν Λίχης ἀνεῦρε ἐν 
+
+’ , 
+
+Teyén καὶ συντυχίῃ χρησάμενος καὶ σοφίῃ. ἐού- 
+σης γὰρ τοῦτον τὸν χρόνον ἐπιμιξίης πρὸς τοὺς 
+Τεγεήτας, ἐλθὼν ἐς χαλκήιον ἐθηεῖτο σίδη- 
+ρον ἐξελαυνόμενον, καὶ ἐν θώματι ἦν ὀρέων τὸ 
+ποιεόμενον. μαθὼν δέ μιν ὁ χαλκεὺς ἀποθωμάζοντα 
+4 ͵ a y co? wv . ^ 
+εἶπε παυσάμενος τοῦ ἔργου “΄ Ἡ κου ἄν, ὦ ξεῖνε 
+Λάκων, εἴ περ εἶδες τό περ ἐγώ, κάρτα ἂν ἐθώ- 
+80 
+
+
+BOOK 1. 67-68 
+
+
+tomb, they sent their messengers again to the god ! 
+to ask of the place where Orestes lay: and the 
+priestess said in answer to their question: 
+
+
+“There is a place, Tegeé, in the level plain of 
+
+Arcadia, l 
+
+Where by stark stress driven twain winds are evèr 
+a-blowing, 
+
+Shock makes answer to shock, and anguish is laid 
+upon anguish. 
+
+There in the nourishing earth Agamemnon’s son 
+lieth buried : 
+
+Bring him, and so thou shalt be the lord of the 
+land of thy foemen.” 
+
+
+When the Lacedaemonians heard this too, they 
+were no nearer finding what they sought, though 
+they made search everywhere, till at last Lichas, one 
+of the Spartans who are called Benefactors, dis- 
+covered it. These Benefactors are the Spartan citi- 
+. zens who pass out of the ranks of the knights, the 
+five oldest in each year; for the year in which they 
+pass out from the knights they are sent on divers 
+errands by the Spartan state, and must use all 
+despatch. 
+
+68. Lichas, then, one of these men, by good luck 
+and cleverness found the tomb at Tegea. At that 
+time there was free intercourse with Tegea; so, 
+entering a smithy, he watched the forging of iron 
+and marvelled at the work which he saw. When the 
+smith perceived that he was much astonished, he 
+ceased from working, and said, “ Laconian, you won- 
+der at the working of iron, but had you seen what 
+
+1 τὴν ἐς θεόν, explained as = τὴν és θεὸν ὁδόν. τὴν ἔνθεον 
+
+
+(= the inspired one: after ἐπειρησομένους) would be an easy 
+correction. Butall MSS. have ἐς θεόν. 
+
+
+81 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+pates, ὅκου νῦν οὕτω τυγχάνεις θῶμα ποιεύμενος 
+τὴν ἐργασίην τοῦ σιδήρου. ἐγὼ γὰρ ἐν τῇδε θέ- 
+λων τῇ αὐλῇ φρέαρ ποιήσασθαι, ὀρύσσων ἐπέ- 
+τυχον σορῷ ἑπταπήχεϊ' ὑπὸ δὲ ἀπιστίης μὴ μὲν 
+γενέσθαι μηδαμὰ μέζονας ἀνθρώπους τῶν νῦν 
+ἄνοιξα αὐτὴν καὶ εἶδον τὸν νεκρὸν μήκεῖ ἴσον 
+ἐόντα τῇ σορῷ' μετρήσας δὲ συνέχωσα ὀπίσω." 
+ὃ μὲν δή οἱ ἔλεγε τά περ ὀπώπεε, ὃ δὲ ἐννώσας τὰ 
+λεγόμενα συνεβάλλετο τὸν ᾿Ὀρέστεα κατὰ τὸ 
+θεοπρόπιον τοῦτον εἶναι, τῇδε συμβαλλόμενος" 
+τοῦ χαλκέος δύο ὁρέων φύσας τοὺς ἀνέμους εὖ- 
+ρισκε ἐόντας, τὸν δὲ ἄκμονα καὶ τὴν σφῦραν τόν 
+τε τύπον καὶ τὸν ἀντύτυπον, τὸν δὲ ἐξελαυνόμενον 
+σίδηρον τὸ πῆμα ἐπὶ πήματι κείμενον, κατὰ τοι- 
+ovde τι εἰκάξων, ὡς ἐπὶ κακῷ ἀνθρώπου σίδηρος 
+ἀνεύρηται. συμβαλόμενος δὲ ταῦτα καὶ ἀπελθὼν 
+ἐς Σπάρτην ἔφραξε Λακεδαιμονίοισι πᾶν τὸ πρῆ- 
+ypa. ot δὲ ἐκ λόγου πλαστοῦ ἐπενείκαντές οἱ 
+αἰτίην ἐδίωξαν. ὃ δὲ ἀπικόμενος ἐς Τεγέην καὶ 
+φράξων τὴν ἑωυτοῦ συμφορὴν πρὸς τὸν χαλκέα 
+ἐμισθοῦτο παρ᾽ οὐκ ἐκδιδόντος τὴν αὐλήν' χρόνῳ 
+δὲ ὡς ἀνέγνωσε, ἐνοικίσθη, ἀνορύξας δὲ τὸν τάφον 
+καὶ τὰ ὀστέα συλλέξας οἴχετο φέρων ἐς Σπάρτην. 
+καὶ ἀπὸ τούτου τοῦ χρόνου, ὅκως πειρῴατο ἀλλή- 
+λων, πολλῷ κατυπέρτεροι τῷ πολέμῳ ἐγίνοντο οἱ 
+Λακεδαιμόνιοι. ἤδη δέ σφι καὶ ἡ πολλὴ τῆς 
+Πελοποπνήσου ἦν κατεστραμμένη. 
+
+69. Tatra δὴ ὧν πάντα πυνθανόμενος ὁ Kpoi- 
+σος ἔπεμπε ἐς Σπάρτην ἀγγέλους δῶρά τε φέ- 
+povras καὶ δεησομένους συμμαχίης, ἐντειλάμενός 
+τε τὰ λέγειν χρῆν. o? δὲ ἐλθόντες ἔλεγον '"Ἔπεμ- 
+we ἡμέας Κροῖσος ὁ Λυδῶν τε καὶ ἄλλων ἐθνέων 
+82 
+
+
+BOOK I. 68-69 
+
+
+I have seen you would have indeed had somewhat to 
+marvel at. For I was making me a well in this 
+courtyard, when in my digging I chanced upon a 
+coffin seven cubits long. As I could not believe that 
+there had ever been men taller than those of our time, 
+I opened the coffin, and found within it the corpse 
+as long as itself; I measured it, and buried it in 
+earth again." So the smith told what he had seen; 
+Lichas marked what he said, and argued from the 
+oracle that this must be Orestes, reasoning that the 
+Smith’s two bellows which he saw were the winds, the 
+anvil and hammerthe shock and counter-shock, and the 
+forged iron the anguish laid upon anguish. What led 
+him so to guess was that the discovery of iron has been 
+to men’s hurt. Thus he reasoned, and returning to 
+Sparta told all the matter to the Lacedaemonians. 
+They made pretence of bringing a charge against him 
+and banishing him; so he went to Tegea, where he 
+told the smith of his misfortune, and tried to hire 
+the courtyard from him. The smith would not con. 
+sent, but at last Lichas over-persuaded him, and 
+taking up his abode there, opened the tomb and 
+collected the bones and went away with them to 
+Sparta. Ever after this time the Lacedaemonians 
+got much the better of the men of Tegea in all their 
+battles ; and they had already subdued the greater 
+part of the Peloponnesus. 
+
+69. Croesus, then, being made aware of all this 
+sent messengers to Sparta with gifts, to ask an alli- 
+ance in words with which he charged them. They 
+came, and said: “ Croesus, King of Lydia and other 
+
+
+83 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+βασιλεύς, λέγων τάδε. Ὦ Λακεδαιμόνιοι, χρή- 
+σαντος τοῦ θεοῦ τὸν "Ελληνα φίλον προσθέσθαι, 
+ὑμέας γὰρ πυνθάνομαι προεστάναι τῆς Ἑλλάδος, 
+ὑμέας ὧν κατὰ τὸ χρηστήριον προσκαλέομαι 
+τν τε θέλων γενέσθαι καὶ σύμμαχος ἄνευ τε 
+ἀγγέλων ἐπεκηρυκεύετο, Λακεδαιμόνιοι δὲ arn- 
+κοότες καὶ αὐτοὶ τὸ θεοπρόπιον τὸ Κροίσῳ γενό- 
+μενον ἥσθησάν τε τῇ ἀπίξι τῶν Λυδῶν καὶ ἐποιή- 
+σαντο ὅρκια ξεινίης πέρι καὶ συμμαχίης" καὶ γὰρ 
+τινὲς αὐτοὺς εὐεργεσίαι εἶχον ἐκ Κροίσου πρότερον 
+ἔτι γεγονυῖαν. πέμψαντες γὰρ οἱ Λακεδαιμόνιοι 
+ἐς Σάρδις χρυσὸν ὠνέοντο, ἐς ἄγαλμα βουλόμενοι 
+χρήσασθαι τοῦτο τὸ νῦν τῆς Λακωνικῆς ἐν Θόρ- 
+νακι ἵδρυται ᾿Απόλλωνος": Κροῖσος δέ σφι ὠνεο- 
+μένοισι ἔδωκε δωτίνην. 
+
+70. Τούτων τε ὧν εἵνεκεν οἱ Λακεδαιμόνιοι τὴν 
+συμμα ην ἐδέξαντο, καὶ ὅτι ἐκ πάντων σφέας 
+προκρίνας Ἑλλήνων αἱρέετο φίλους. καὶ τοῦτο 
+μὲν αὐτοὶ ἦσαν ἕτοιμοι ἐπαγγείλαντι, τοῦτο δὲ 
+ποιησάμενοι κρητῆρα χάλκεον ζῳδίων τε ἔξωθεν 
+πλήσαντες περὶ τὸ χεῖλος καὶ μεγάθεϊ τριηκοσί- 
+ους ἀμφορέας χωρέοντα ἦγον, δῶρον βουλόμενοι 
+ἀντιδοῦναι Κροίσῳ. οὗτος ὁ κρητὴρ οὐκ ἀπίκετο 
+ἐς Σάρδις δι) αἰτίας διφασίας λεγομένας τάσδε’ οἱ 
+μὲν Λακεδαιμόνιοι λέγουσι ὡς ἐπείτε ἀγόμενος 
+ἐς τὰς Σάρδις ὁ κρητὴρ ἐγίνετο κατὰ τὴν Σαμίην, 
+πυθόμενοι Σάμιοι ἀπελοίατο αὐτὸν νηυσὶ μακρῆσι 
+ἐπιπλώσαντες' αὐτοὶ δὲ Σάμιοι λέγουσι ὡς ἐπείτε 
+ὑστέρησαν οἱ ἄγοντες τῶν Λακεδαιμονίων τὸν 
+κρητῆρα, ἐπυνθάνοντο δὲ Σάρδις τε καὶ Κροῖσον 
+ἡλωκέναι, ἀπέδοντο τὸν κρητῆρα ἐν Σάμῳ, ἰδιώτας 
+
+
+84 
+
+
+όλου καὶ ἀπάτης. Κροῖσος μὲν δὴ ταῦτα δι᾽. 
+
+
+Ic OUT cec tM EP ων Ην βρω 
+
+
+BOOK I. 69-70 
+
+
+nations, has sent us with this message: ‘ Lacedae- 
+monians ! the god has declared that I should make 
+the Greek my friend ; now, therefore, as I learn that 
+you are the leaders of Hellas, I do so invite you, as 
+the oracle bids; I would fain be your friend and ally, 
+without deceit or guile.’ " Thus Croesus proposed by 
+the mouth of his messengers: and the Lacedaemon- 
+ians, who had already heard of the oracle given to 
+Croesus, welcomed the coming of the Lydians and 
+swore to be his friends and allies; and indeed they 
+were bound by certain benefits which they had before 
+received from the king. For the Lacedaemonians 
+had sent to Sardis to buy gold, with intent to use 
+it for the statue of Apollo which now stands on 
+Thornax! in Laconia; and Croesus, when they would 
+buy it, made a free gift of it to them. 
+
+70. For this cause, and because he had chosen 
+them as his friends before all other Greeks, the 
+Lacedaemonians accepted the alliance. So they de- 
+clared themselves ready to serve him when he should 
+require, and moreover they made a bowl of bronze, 
+graven outside round the rim with figures, and large 
+enough to hold twenty-seven hundred gallons, and 
+brought it with the intent to make a gift of re- 
+quital to Croesus. This bowl never came to Sardis, 
+and for this two reasons are given: the Lacedaemon- 
+ians say that when the bowl was near Samos on its 
+way to Sardis, the Samians descended upon them in 
+warships and carried it off; but the Samians themselves 
+say that the Lacedaemonians who were bringing the 
+bowl, being too late, and learning that Sardis and 
+Croesus were taken, sold itin Samos to certain private 
+
+
+1 A mountain north-east of Sparta, overlooking the 
+Eurotas valley. 
+
+
+85 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+is via δὲ ὁ πριαµένους ἀναθεῖναί μιν ἐς τὸ "Ἡραιον. 
+α δὲ ἃ ἂν καὶ οἱ ἀποδόμενοι λέγοιεν ἀπικόμενοι 
+πάρτην ὡς ἀπαιρεθείησαν ἡ ὑπὸ Σαμίων. κατὰ 
+ο. νυν τὸν κρητῆρα οὕτω ἔσχε. 
+
+71. Κροῖσος δὲ ἁμαρτὼν τοῦ χρησμοῦ ἐποιέετο 
+στρατηίην ἐς Καππαδοκίην, ἐλπίσας καταιρήσειν 
+Κῦρόν τε καὶ τὴν Περσέων δύναμιν. παρασκευα- 
+ζομένου δὲ Κροίσου στρατεύεσθαι ἐπὶ Πέρσας, 
+τῶν τις Λυδῶν νομιξόμενος καὶ πρόσθε εἶναι 
+σοφός, ἀπὸ δὲ ταύτης τῆς γνώμης καὶ τὸ κάρτα 
+οὔνομα ἐν Λυδοῖσι ἔχων, συνεβούλευσε Κροίσῳ 
+τάδε: οὔνομά οἱ ἦν Σάνδανις. ‘CO βασιλεῦ, ἐπ᾽ 
+ἄνδρας τοιούτους στρατεύεσθαι, παρασκευάξεαι, 
+οἳ σκυτίνας μὲν ἀναξυρίδας σκυτίνην δὲ τὴν ἄλλην 
+ἐσθῆτα φορέουσι, σιτέονται δὲ οὐκ ὅσα ἐθέλουσι 
+ἀλλ᾽ ὅσα ἔχουσι, χώρην ἔχοντες τρηχέαν. πρὸς 
+δὲ οὐκ οἴνῳ διαχρέωνται ἀλλὰ ὑδροποτέουσι, ov 
+σῦκα δὲ ἔ ἔχουσι. τρώγειν, οὐκ. ἄλλο ἀγαθὸν οὐδέν. 
+τοῦτο μὲν δή, εἰ νικήσεις, τί σφέας ἀπαιρήσεαι, 
+τοῖσί γε μὴ ἔστι μηδέν; τοῦτο δέ, ἣν νικηθῇς, 
+μάθε. ὅσα ἀγαθὰ ἀποβαλέεις' γευσάμενοι γὰρ 
+τῶν ἡμετέρων ἀγαθῶν περιέξονται οὐδὲ ἀπωστοὶ 
+ἔσονται. ἐγὼ μέν νυν θεοῖσι ἔχω χάριν, ot οὖν 
+ἐπὶ νόον ποιέουσι Πέρσῃσι στρατεύεσθαι ἐπὶ 
+Λυδούς.᾽ ταῦτα λέγων οὐκ ἔπειθε τὸν Κροῖσον. 
+Πέρσῃσι γάρ, πρὶν Λυδοὺς καταστρέψασθαι, ἦν 
+οὔτε ἁβρὸν οὔτε ἀγαθὸν οὐδέν. 
+
+72. Οἱ δὲ Καππαδόκαι ὑπὸ Ἑλλήνων Σύριοι 
+ὀνομάξονται" ἦσαν δὲ οἱ Σύριοι οὗτοι τὸ μὲν 
+πρότερον ἢ Πέρσας ἄρξαι Μήδων κατήκοοι, τότε 
+δὲ Κύρου, ὁ yao οὗρος ἦν τῆς τε Μηδικῆς ἀρχῆς 
+
+
+86 
+
+
+BOOK I. 70-72 
+
+
+men, who set it up in the the temple of Here. And 
+it may be that the sellers of the bowl, when they re- 
+turned to Sparta, said that they had been robbed of 
+it by the Samians. Such are the tales about the 
+bowl. 
+
+71. Croesus, mistaking the meaning of the oracle, 
+invaded Cappadocia, thinking to destroy Cyrus and 
+the Persian power. But while he was preparing to 
+march against the Persians, a certain Lydian, who 
+was already held to be a wise man, and from the ad- 
+vice which he now gave won great renown among 
+the Lydians, thus counselled him (his name was 
+Sandanis): ** O King, you are making ready to march 
+against men who wear breeches of leather and their 
+other garments of the same, and whose fare is not 
+what they desire but what they have; for their land 
+is stony. Further they use no wine, but are water- 
+drinkers, nor have they figs to eat, nor aught else 
+that is good. Now if you conquer them, of what 
+will you deprive them, seeing that they have nothing ? 
+But if on the other hand you àre conquered, then see 
+how many good things you will lose; for once they 
+have tasted of our blessings they will cling so close 
+to them that nothing will thrust them away. For 
+myself, then, I thank the gods that they do not 
+put it in the hearts of the Persians to march 
+against the Lydians.” Thus spoke Sandanis; for 
+the Persians, before they subdued the Lydians, had 
+no luxury and no comforts; but he did not move 
+Croesus. 
+
+72. Now the Cappadocians are called by the 
+Greeks Syrians, and these Syrians before the Per- 
+sian rule were subjects of the Medes, and, at this 
+time, of Cyrus. For the boundary of the Median 
+
+
+87 
+
+
+Nr 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+καὶ τῆς Λυδικῆς ὁ "AXvs ποταμος, ὃς ῥέει ἐξ 
+αν ὄρεος διὰ Κιλίκων, μετὰ. δὲ Ματιηνοὺς 
+μὲν ἐν δεξιῇ ἔχει ῥέων, | ἐκ δὲ τοῦ ἑτέρου. Φρύγας: 
+παραμειβόμενος δὲ “ο καὶ ῥέων ἄνω πρὸς 
+Βορέην ἄνεμον ἔνθεν μὲν Συρίους Καππαδόκας 
+ἀπέργει, ἐξ εὐωνύμου δὲ Παφλαγόνας. οὕτω ὁ 
+΄Αλυς ποταμὸς ἀποτάμνει σχεδὸν πάντα τῆς 
+᾿Ασίης τὰ κάτω ἐκ θαλάσσης τῆς ἀντίον «Κύπρου 
+ἐς τὸν Εὔξεινον πόντον. ἔστι δὲ αὐχὴν οὗτος 
+τῆς ώρης ταύτης ἁπάσης” μῆκος ὁδοῦ εὐζώνῳ 
+ἀνδρὶ πέντε ἡμέραι ἀναισιμοῦνται. 
+
+13. ᾿Εστρατεύετο δὲ ὁ Κροῖσος ἐ ἐπὶ τὴν Καππα- 
+δοκίην τῶνδε εἶ εἵνεκα, καὶ γῆς ἱμέρῳ προσκτήσασθαι 
+πρὸς τὴν ἑωυτοῦ μοῖραν βουλόμενος, καὶ μάλιστα 
+τῷ χρηστηρίῳ πίσυνος ἑὼν καὶ τίσασθαι θέλων 
+ὑπὲρ ᾿Αστυάγεος Kópov. ᾿Αστυάγεα γὰρ τὸν 
+Κυαξάρεω, ἐόντα Κροίσου μὲν γαμβρὸν Μήδων 
+δὲ βασιλέα, Κῦρος ὁ Καμβύσεω καταστρεψάμενος 
+εἶχε, γενόμενον γαμβρὸν Κροίσῳ ὧδε. Σκυθέων 
+τῶν νομάδων εἴλη ἀνδρῶν στασιάσασα ὑπεξῆλθε 
+ἐς γῆν τὴν Μηδικήν: ἐτυράννευε δὲ τὸν χρόνον 
+τοῦτον Μήδων Κυαξαρης ὁ 0 Φραόρτεω. τοῦ Δηιόκεω, 
+ὃς τοὺς. Σκύθας τούτους τὸ μὲν πρῶτον περιεῖπε 
+εὖ ὡς ἐόντας κετας' ὥστε δὲ περὶ πολλοῦ ποιεό- 
+μενος αὐτούς, παῖδάς σφι παρέδωκε τὴν γλῶσσάν 
+τε ἐκμαθεῖν καὶ τὴν τέχνην τῶν τόξων. χρόνου. δὲ 
+γενομένου, καὶ αἰεὶ φοιτεόντων τῶν Σκυθέων ἐπ᾽ 
+ἄγρην καὶ αἰεύ TL φερόντων, καί KOTE συνήνεικε 
+ἑλεῖν σφεας μηδέν' νοστήσαντας δὲ αὐτοὺς κεινῇσι 
+
+
+1 τῆς ᾽Ασίης τὰ κάτα means here and elsewhere in Hdt. the 
+western part of Asia, west of the Halys (Kizil Irmak). The 
+
+
+88 
+
+
+BOOK I. 72-73 
+
+
+and Lydian empires was the river Halys; which 
+flows from the Armenian mountains first through 
+Cilicia and afterwards between the Matieni on the 
+right and the Phrygians on the other hand; then 
+passing these and flowing still northwards it separates 
+the Cappadocian Syrians on the right from the Paph- 
+lagonians on the left. Thus the Halys river cuts 
+off wellnigh the whole of the lower part of Asia, 
+from the Cyprian to the Euxine sea. Here is the 
+narrowest neck of all this land; the length of the 
+journey across is five days, for a man going un- 
+burdened.! 
+
+73. The reasons of Croesus' expedition against 
+Cappadocia were these: he desired to gain territory 
+in addition to his own share, and (these were the chief 
+causes) he trusted the oracle, and wished to avenge 
+Astyages on Cyrus ; for Cyrus, son of Cambyses, had 
+subdued Astyages and held him in subjection. 
+Now Astyages, king of Media, son of Cyaxares, was 
+Croesus’ brother-in-law : and this is how he came to 
+be so. A tribe of wandering Scythians separated 
+itself from the rest, and escaped into Median terri- 
+tory. This was then ruled by Cyaxares, son of 
+Phraortes, son of Deioces. Cyaxares at first treated 
+the Scythians kindly, as being suppliants for his 
+mercy ; and as he held them in high regard he en- 
+trusted boys to their charge to be taught their 
+language and the craft of archery. As time went 
+on, it chanced that the Scythians, who were wont to 
+go hunting and ever to bring something back, once 
+had taken nothing, and when they returned 
+width from sea to sea of the αὐχήν is obviously much under 
+estimated by Hdt., as also by later writers; the actual dis- 
+
+
+tance at the narrowest part is about 280 miles as the crow 
+flies ; much more than a five days’ march. 
+89 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+χερσὶ ὁ Κυαξάρης (3v γάρ, ὡς διέδεξε, ὀργὴν 
+ἄκρος) τρηχέως κάρτα περιέσπε ἀεικείῃ. οἳ δὲ 
+ταῦτα πρὸς Κυαξάρεω παθόντες, ὥστε ἀνάξια 
+σφέων αὐτῶν πεπονθότες, ἐβούλευσαν τῶν παρὰ 
+σφίσι ' διδασκομένων παίδων ἕνα κατακόψαι, 
+σκευάσαντες δὲ αὐτὸν ὥσπερ ἐώθεσαν καὶ τὰ 
+θηρία σκευάξειν, Κυαξάρῃ δοῦναι φέροντες ὡς 
+ἄγρην. δῆθεν, δόντες δὲ τὴν ταχίστην κομίξεσθαι 
+παρὰ ᾿Αλυάττεα τὸν Σαδυάττεω ἐς Σάρδις. ταῦτα 
+καὶ ἐγένετο" καὶ γὰρ Κυαξάρης. καὶ οἱ παρεόντες 
+δαιτυμόνες τῶν κρεῶν τούτων ἐπάσαντο, καὶ οἱ 
+Σκύθαι ταῦτα ποιήσαντες ᾽Αλυάττεω ἱκέται 
+ἐγένοντο. 
+
+74. Μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα, οὐ γὰρ δὴ ὁ ᾿Αλυάττης 
+ἐξεδίδου τοὺς Σκύθας ἐξαιτέοντι Κυαξάρῃ, πόλε- 
+pos τοῖσι Λυδοῖσι καὶ τοῖσι Μήδοισι. ἐγεγόνεε ἐπ᾽ 
+ἔτεα πέντε, ἐν τοῖσι πολλάκις μὲν οἱ Μήδοι τοὺς 
+Λυδοὺς ἐνίκησαν, πολλάκις δὲ oí Λυδοὶ τοὺς 
+Μήδους, ἐν δὲ καὶ νυκτομαχίην τινὰ ἐποιήσαντο" 
+διαφέρουσι δέ σφι ἐπὶ, ἴσης τὸν πόλεμον τῷ ἕκτῳ 
+ἔτεϊ συμβολῆς «γενομένης. συνήνεικε ὥστε τῆς 
+μάχης συνεστεώσης τὴν ἡμέρην ἐξαπίνης νύκτα 
+γενέσθαι. τὴν δὲ μεταλλαγὴν ταύτην τῆς ἡμέρης 
+Θαλῆς ὁ , Μιλήσιος τοῖσι Ἴωσι προηγόρευσε 
+ἔσεσθαι, οὗρον προθέµενος ἐνιαυτὸν τοῦτον ἐν τῷ 
+δὴ καὶ ἐ ἐγένετο ἡ μεταβολή. οἱ δὲ Λυδοί τε καὶ 
+οἱ Μῆδοι ἐπείτε εἶδον νύκτα ἀντὶ ἡμέρης γενο- 
+μένην, τῆς μάχης τε ἐπαύσαντο καὶ μᾶλλόν τι 
+ἔσπευσαν καὶ ἀμφότεροι εἰρήνην ἑωυτοῖσι γενέσθαι. 
+
+
+1 All evidence, historical and astronomical, fixes the date 
+of this eclipse as May 28, 585 B.o. There was another eclipse 
+of the sun in Alyattes’ reign, on Sept. 30, 610; but it appears 
+
+
+90 
+
+
+BOOK I. 73-74 
+
+
+empty-handed, Cyaxares (being, as hereby appeared, 
+prone to anger) treated them very roughly and 
+despitefully. The Scythians, deeming themselves 
+wronged by the usage they had from Cyaxares, plot- 
+ted to take one of the boys who were their pupils 
+and cut him in pieces, then, dressing the flesh as 
+they were wont to dress the animals which they 
+killed, to bring and give it to Cyaxares as if it were 
+the spoils of the chase ; and after that, to make their 
+way with all speed to Alyattes son of Sadyattes at 
+Sardis. All this they did. Cyaxares and the guests 
+who feasted with him ate of the boy's flesh, and the 
+Scythians, having done as they planned, fled to 
+Alyattes for protection. 
+
+74. After this, seeing that Alyattes would not give 
+up the Scythians to Cyaxares at his demand, there was 
+war between the Lydians and the Medes for five 
+years; each won many victories over the other, and 
+once they fought a battle by night. They were still 
+warring with equal success, when it chanced, at an en- 
+counter which happened in the sixth year, that during 
+the battle the day was suddenly turned to night. 
+Thales of Miletus had foretold this loss of daylight to 
+the Ionians, fixing it within the year in which the 
+change did indeed happen. So when the Lydians 
+and Medes saw the day turned to night they ceased 
+from fighting, and both were the more zealous to make 
+
+
+that this latter was not total in Asia Minor: and Pliny's 
+mention of the phenomenon places it in the 170th year from 
+the foundation of Rome. Thales died at an advanced age 
+in 548 B.C. 
+
+
+gt 
+
+
+„jb 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οἱ δὲ συμβιθάσαντες αὐτοὺς ἦσαν οἵδε, Συέννεσίς 
+τε ὁ King καὶ Λαβύνητος ὁ Βαβυλώνιος. οὗτοί 
+σφι καὶ τὸ ὅρκιον οἱ σπεύσαντες γενέσθαι ἡ ἦσαν 
+καὶ γάμων ἐπαλλαγὴν ἐποίησαν: ᾿Αλυάττεα yap 
+at ba δοῦναι τὴν θυγατέρα ᾿Αρύηνιν ᾿Αστυάγεϊ 
+
+
+M oie io παιδί: ἄνευ γὰρ ἀναγκαΐης ἰσχυρῆς 
+
+
+σιες ἰσχυραὶ οὐκ ἐθέλουσι συμμένειν. ὅρκια 
+δὲ ποιέεται ταῦτα τὰ ἔθνεα τά πέρ τε "Έλληνες, 
+καὶ πρὸς τούτοισι, ἐπεὰν τοὺς βραχίονας ἐπιτά- 
+μωνται ἐς τὴν ὁμοχροίην, τὸ αἷμα ἀναλείχουσι 
+ἀλλήλων. 
+
+75. Τοῦτον δὴ ὧν τὸν ᾿Αστυάγεα Κῦρος ἐόντα. 
+ἑωυτοῦ μητροπάτορα. καταστρεψάμενος ἔσχε δὲ’ 
+αἰτίην τὴν ἐγὼ ἐν τοῖσι ὀπίσω λόγοισι σημανέω: 
+τὰ Κροῖσος -ἐπιμεμφόμενος τῷ Κύρῳ ἔς τε τὰ 
+χρηστήρια ἔπεμπε εἰ στρατεύηται ἐπὶ Πέρσας, 
+καὶ δη καὶ ἀπικομένου χρησμοῦ κιβδήλου, ἐλπίσας 
+πρὸς ἑωυτοῦ τὸν χρησμὸν εἶναι, ἐστρατεύετο ἐς 
+τὴν Περσέων μοῖραν. ὡς δὲ ἀπίκετο ἐπὶ τὸν 
+"ANu ποταμὸν 0 Κροῖσος, τὸ ἐνθεῦτεν, ὡς μὲν 
+ἐγὼ λέγω, κατὰ τὰς ἐούσας γεφύρας διεβίβασε 
+τὸν στρατόν, ὡς δὲ ὁ πολλὸς λόγος Ἑλλήνων, 
+Θαλῆς οἱ 0 | Μιλήσιος διεβίβασε. ἀπορέοντος γὰρ 
+Κροίσου ὅκως οἱ διαβήσεται τὸν ποταμὸν 0 
+στρατός (οὐ γὰρ δὴ εἶναί κω τοῦτον τὸν χρόνον 
+τὰς γεφύρας ταύτας) λέγεται παρεόντα τὸν Θαλῆν 
+ἐν τῷ στρατοπέδῳ ιῆσαι αὐτῷ τὸν ποταμὸν (é ἐξ 
+ἀριστερῆς χειρὸς ῥέοντα)τοῦ στρατοῦ καὶ ἐκ δεξιῆς 
+
+, ποιῆσαι δὲ ὧδε' ἄνωθεν τοῦ στρατοπέδου 
+ἀρξάμενον διώρυχα βαθέαν ὀρύσσειν, ἄγοντα 
+μηνοει έα, ὅκως ἂν τὸ ,στρατόπεδον ἑδρυμένον 
+κατὰ νώτου λάβοι, ταύτῃ κατὰ τὴν διώρυχα 
+
+
+ον 
+
+
+BOOK l. 74-75 
+
+
+peace. Those who reconciled them were Syennesis 
+the Cilician and Labynetus the Babylonian ; they it 
+was who brought it about that there should be a 
+sworn agreement and an exchange of wedlock be- 
+tween them : they adjudged that Alyattes should give 
+his daughter Aryenis to Astyages, son of Cyaxares; 
+for without a strong bond agreements will not keep 
+their strength. These nations make sworn compacts 
+as do the Greeks ; moreover, they cut the skin of 
+their arms and lick each other's blood. 
+
+75. This Astyages then was Cyrus’ mother's father, 
+and was by him subdued and held subject for the 
+reason which I shall presently declare. Having this 
+cause of quarrel with Cyrus, Croesus sent to ask the 
+oracles if he should march against the Persians ; and 
+when a quibbling answer came he thought it to be 
+favourable to him, and so led his army to the Persian 
+territory. When he came to the river Halys, he trans- 
+ported his army across it, —by the bridges, as I hold, 
+which then were there ; but the general belief of the 
+Greeks is that the army was cz vried across by Thales of 
+Miletus. This is the story : As the bridges aforesaid 
+did not then yet exist, Croesus knew not how his 
+army should pass the river: then Thales, being in 
+the encampment, made the river, which flowed on 
+the left hand, flow also on the right of the army in 
+the following way. Starting from a point on the river 
+higher up than the camp, he dug a deep semicircular 
+trench, so that the stream, turned from its ancient 
+course, should flow in the trench to the rear of the 
+
+93 
+
+
+y 
+
+
+V 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐκτραπόμενος ἐκ τῶν ἀρχαίων ῥεέθρων, καὶ arts 
+παραμειβόμενος τὸ στρατόπεδον ἐς τὰ ἀρχαῖα 
+ἐσβάλλοι' ὥστε ἐπείτε καὶ ἐσχίσθη τάχιστα ὁ 
+ποταμός, ἀμφοτέρῃ διαβατὸς ἐγένετο. [οἳ δὲ καὶ 
+τὸ παράπαν λέγουσι καὶ τὸ ἀρχαῖον ῥέεθρον 
+ἀποξηρανθῆναι. ἀλλὰ τοῦτο μὲν οὐ προσίεμαι" 
+κῶς γὰρ ὀπίσω πορευόμενοι διέβησαν αὐτόν; 
+
+
+| 7——76. Κροῖσος δὲ ἐπείτε διαβὰς σὺν τῷ στρατῷ 
+
+
+ἀπίκετο τῆς Καππαδοκίης ἐς τὴν Πτερίην καλεο- 
+μένην (ἡ δὲ Πτερίη ἐστὶ τῆς χώρης ταύτης τὸ 1 
+ἰσχυρότατον, κατὰ Σινώπην πόλιν τὴν ἐν Ἐὐξείνῳ 
+πόντῳ μάλιστά κῃ κειμένη), ἐνθαῦτα ἐστρατο- 
+πεδεύετο φθείρων τῶν Συρίων τοὺς κλήρους’ καὶ 
+εἷλε μὲν τῶν Πτερίων τὴν πόλιν καὶ ἠνδραποδί- 
+σατο, εἷλε δὲ τὰς περιοικίδας αὐτῆς πάσας, 
+Συρίους τε οὐδὲν ἐόντας αἰτίους ἀναστάτους 
+ἐποίησε. Κῦρος δὲ ἀγείρας τὸν ἑωυτοῦ στρατὸν 
+καὶ παραλαβὼν τοὺς μεταξὺ οἰκέοντας πάντας 
+ἠντιοῦτο Κροίσῳ. πρὶν δὲ ἐξελαύνειν ὁρμῆσαι 
+τὸν στρατόν, πέμψας κήρυκας ἐς τοὺς Ἴωνας ἐπει- 
+ρᾶτο σφέας ἀπὸ Κροίσου ἀπιστάναι. "Ίωνες μέν 
+νυν οὐκ ἐπείθοντο’ Κῦρος δὲ ὡς ἀπίκετο καὶ 
+ἀντεστρατοπεδεύσατο Κροίσῳ, ἐνθαῦτα ἐν τῇ 
+Πτερίῃ χώρῃ ἐπειρῶντο κατὰ τὸ ἰσχυρὸν ἀλλή- 
+λων. μάχης δὲ καρτερῆς γενομένης καὶ πεσόντων 
+ἀμφοτέρων πολλῶν, τέλος οὐδέτεροι νικήσαντες 
+διέστησαν νυκτὸς ἐπελθούσης. καὶ τὰ μὲν στρατό- 
+πεδα ἀμφότερα οὕτω ἠγωνίσατο. 
+
+77. Κροῖσος δὲ μεμφθεὶς κατὰ τὸ πλῆθος τὸ 
+ἑωυτοῦ στράτευμα (ἦν γάρ οἱ ὁ συμβαλὼν στρατὸς 
+πολλὸν ἐλάσσων ἢ ὁ Κύρου), τοῦτο µεμφθείς, ὡς 
+
+1 [τὸ] Stein. 
+94 
+
+
+e a 
+
+
+de 
+
+
+E N 
+v 
+
+
+x BOOK I. 45-73 
+
+
+camp, and, again passing it, should issue into its 
+former bed, so that, as soon as the river was thus 
+divided into two, both channels could be forded. 
+
+
+/ Some even say that the ancient channel was al- 
+
+
+together dried up. But I do not believe this; for 
+how then did they pass the river when they were 
+returning ? 
+
+76. Croesus then passing over with his army came 
+to the part of Cappadocia called Pteria (it is the 
+strongest part of this country and lies nearest to the 
+city of Sinope on the Euxine sea), where he encamped, 
+and laid waste the farms of the Syrians ; and he took 
+and enslaved the city of the Pterians, and took also 
+all the places about it, and drove the Syrians from 
+their homes, though they had done him no harm. 
+Cyrus, mustering his army, and gathering to him all 
+those who dwelt upon his way, went to meet Croesus. 
+But before beginning his march he sent heralds to 
+the Ionians to try to draw them away from Croesus, 
+The Ionians would not be persuaded; but when 
+Cyrus had come, and encamped face to face with 
+Croesus, the armies made trial of each other's 
+strength with might and main in the Pterian country. 
+The battle was stubborn; many on both sides fell, 
+and when they were parted at nightfall neither had 
+the advantage. With such fortune did the two 
+armies contend. 
+
+77. Croesus was not content with the number of 
+his force, for his army which had fought was by far 
+smaller than that of Cyrus ; therefore, seeing that on 
+
+95 
+
+
+-- 
+
+
+EY 
+
+
+HERODOTUS ος 
+: | 
+
+
+e 
+τῇ ὑστεραίῃ οὐκ ἐπειρᾶτο ἐπβὼν ὁ Κῦρος, àmh- 
+λαυνε ἐς τὰς Σάρδις, ἐν νόῳ ἔχων παρακαλέσας 
+μὲν Αἰγυπτίους κατὰ τὸ ὅρκιον (ἐποιήσατο γὰρ 
+καὶ πρὸς "Apaciw βασιλεύοντα Αἰγύπτου ovp- 
+μαχίην πρότερον ἤ περ πρὸς Λακεδαιμονίους)» 
+μεταπεμψάμενος δὲ καὶ Βαβυλωνίους (καὶ γὰρ 
+πρὸς τούτους αὐτῷ ἐπεποίητο συμμαχίη, ἐτυράν- 
+νευε δὲ τὸν χρόνον τοῦτον τῶν Βαβυλωνίων 
+Λαβύνητος), ἐπαγγείλας δὲ καὶ Λακεδαιμονίοισι 
+παρεῖναι ἐς χρόνον ῥητόν, ἁλίσας τε δὴ τούτους 
+καὶ τὴν ἑωυτοῦ συλλέξας στρατιὴν ἐνένωτο, τὸν 
+χειμῶνα παρείς, ἅμα τῷ ἔαρι στρατεύειν ἐπὶ τοὺς 
+Πέρσας. καὶ ὃ μὲν ταῦτα φρονέων, ὡς ἀπίκετο 
+ἐς τὰς Σάρδις, ἔπεμπε κήρυκας κατὰ τὰς 'συμ- 
+μαχίας προερέοντας ἐς πέμπτον μῆνα συλλέγεσθαι 
+ἐς Σάρδις: τὸν δὲ παρεόντα καὶ μαχεσάμενον 
+στρατὸν Πέρσῃσι, ὃς ἦν αὐτοῦ ξεινικός, πάντα 
+ἀπεὶς διεσκέδασε οὐδαμὰ ἐλπίσας µή κοτε ἄρα 
+ἀγωνισάμενος οὕτω παραπλησίως Κῦρος ἐλάσῃ 
+ἐπὶ Σάρδις. 
+
+18. Ταῦτα ἐπιλεγομένῳ Κροίσῳ τὸ προάστειον 
+πᾶν ὀφίων ἐνεπλήσθη" φανέντων δὲ αὐτῶν, οἱ 
+ἵπποι μετιέντες τὰς νομὰς νέμεσθαι φοιτέοντες 
+κατήσθιον. ἰδόντι δὲ τοῦτο Κροίσῳ, ὥσπερ καὶ 
+ἦν, ἔδοξε τέρας εἶναι αὐτίκα δὲ ἔπεμπε θεοπρό- 
+πους ἐς τῶν ἐξηγητέων Τελμησσέων. ἀπικομέ- 
+vorst δὲ τοῖσι θεοπρόποισι καὶ μαθοῦσι πρὸς Τελ- 
+μησσέων τὸ θέλει σημαίνειν τὸ τέρας, οὐκ ἐξεγέ- 
+νετο Κροίσῳ ἀπαγγεῖλαι: πρὶν γὰρ ἢ ὀπίσω 
+
+
+96 
+
+
+BOOK I. 77-78 
+
+
+the day after the battle Cyrus essayed no second 
+attack, he marched away to Sardis, intending to invite 
+help from the Egyptians in fulfilment of their pledge 
+(for before making an alliance with the Lacedaemon- 
+ians he had made one also with Amasis king of Egypt), 
+and to send for the Babylonians also (for with these 
+too he had made an alliance, Labynetus being at this 
+time their sovereign), and to summon the Lacedae- 
+monians to join him ata fixed time. It was in his 
+mind to muster all these forces and assemble his own 
+army, then to wait till the winter was over and march 
+against the Persians at the beginning of spring. 
+With such intent, as soon as he returned to Sardis, 
+he sent heralds to all his allies, summoning them to 
+assemble at Sardis in five months’ time; and as for 
+the soldiers whom he had with him, who had fought 
+with the Persians, all of them who were not of his 
+nation he disbanded, never thinking that after so 
+equal an issue of the contest Cyrus would march 
+against Sardis. | 
+
+18. Thus Croesus reasoned. Meantime it chanced 
+that snakes began to swarm in the outer part of the 
+city ; and when they appeared the horses would ever 
+leave their accustomed pasture and devour them. 
+When Croesus saw this he thought it to be a portent, 
+and so it was. Forthwith he sent to the abodes of the 
+Telmessian interpreters,! to inquire concerning it; 
+butthough his messengers came and learnt from the 
+Telmessians what the portent should signify, they 
+could never bring back word to Croesus, for he was 
+
+
+1 These were a caste of priests of Apollo at Telmessus or 
+Telmissus in Lycia. τῶν ἐξηγητέων Τελμησσέων is contrary 
+to Greek usage, ἐξηγ. being a substantive: Stein suggests 
+that the true reading may be Τελμησσέων τῶν ἐξηγητέων. 
+
+
+97 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+σφέας ἀναπλῶσαι ἐς τὰς Σάρδις ἥλω ὁ Κροῖσος. 
+Τελμησσέες μέντοι τάδε ἔγνωσαν, στρατὸν ἀλλό- 
+θροον προσδόκιμον εἶναι Κροίσῳ ἐπὶ τὴν χώρην, 
+ἀπικόμενον δὲ τοῦτον καταστρέψεσθαι τοὺς ἐπι- 
+χωρίους, λέγοντες ὄφιν εἶναι γῆς παῖδα, ἵππον δὲ 
+πολέμιόν τε καὶ ἐπήλυδα. Τελμησσέες μέν νυν 
+ταῦτα ὑπεκρίναντο Κροίσῳ ἤδη ἡλωκότι, οὐδέν 
+κὠ εἰδότες τῶν ἣν περὶ Σάρδις τε καὶ αὐτὸν 
+Κροῖσον. 
+
+19. Κῦρος δὲ αὐτίκα ἀπελαύνοντος Κροίσου 
+μετὰ τὴν μάχην τὴν γενομένην ἐν τῇ Ττερίῃ, 
+μαθὼν ὡς ἀπελάσας μέλλοι Κροῖσος διασκεδᾶν 
+τὸν στρατόν, βουλευόμενος εὕρισκε πρῆγμά οἳ 
+εἶναι ἐλαύνειν ὡς δύναιτο τάχιστα ἐπὶ τὰς Σάρδις, 
+
+2 TO UN ` / e ^ ^ ^ ` / 
+ν (τρὶν ἢ τὸ δεύτερον ἁλισθῆναι τῶν Λυδῶν τὴν δύ- 
+ναμιν, ὡς δέ οἱ ταῦτα ἔδοξε, καὶ ἐποίεε κατὰ 
+τάχος' ἐλάσας γὰρ τὸν στρατὸν ἐς τὴν Λυδίην 
+> VN 4 / 4 3 ^ e 
+αὐτὸς ἄγγελος Κροίσῳ ἐληλύθεε. ἐνθαῦτα Κροῖ- 
+σος ἐς ἀπορίην πολλὴν ἀπιγμένος, ὥς οἱ παρὰ 
+δόξαν ἔσχε τὰ πρήγματα ἡ ὡς αὐτὸς κατεδόκες, 
+ὅμως τοὺς Λυδοὺς ἐξῆγε ἐς μάχην. ἣν δὲ τοῦτον 
+a > 
+τὸν χρόνον ἔθνος οὐδὲν ἐν τῇ ᾿Ασίῃ οὔτε ἀνδρηιό- 
+τερον οὔτε ἀλκιμώτερον τοῦ Λυδίου. ἡ δὲ μάχη 
+σφέων ἦν ἀπ᾽ ἵππων, δόρατά τε ἐφόρεον μεγάλα, 
+καὶ αὐτοὶ ἦσαν ἱππεύεσθαι ἀγαθοί. 
+ς ᾽να, , ν / ν / ^ M \ 
+80. "Es τὸ πεδίον δὲ συνελθόντων τοῦτο τὸ πρὸ 
+τοῦ ἄστεος ἐστὶ τοῦ Σαρδιηνοῦ, ἐὸν μέγα τε καὶ 
+/ . 9 ^ \ es » 
+ψιλόν (διὰ δὲ αὐτοῦ ποταμοὶ ῥέοντες καὶ ἄλλοι 
+καὶ "Ύλλος συρρηγνῦσι ἐς τὸν μέγιστον, καλεό- 
+.Φ Φ Ige ν € ^ ν 
+μενον δὲ "Ἕρμον, ὃς ἐξ ὄρεος ἱροῦ μητρὸς Δινδυ- 
+μήνης ῥέων ἐκδιδοῖ ἐς θάλασσαν κατὰ Φωκαίην 
+^ e ^ 
+πόλιν), ἐνθαῦτα ὁ Κῦρος ὡς εἶδε τοὺς Λυδοὺς ἐς 
+98 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+BOOK I. 78-80 
+
+
+a prisoner before they could make their voyage back 
+to Sardis. Howbeit, this was the judgment of the 
+Telmessians—that Croesus must expect a foreign 
+army to attack his country, and that when it came it 
+would subdue the dwellers in the land: for the snake, 
+they said, was the child of the earth, but the horse 
+was a foe and a foreigner. Such was the answer 
+which the Telmessians gave Croesus, knowing as yet 
+nothing of the fate of Sardis and the king himself; 
+but when they gave it Croesus was already taken. 
+79. When Croesus marclied away after the battle 
+in the Pterian country, Cyrus, learning that Croesus 
+had gone with intent to disband his army, took coun- 
+sel and perceived thereby that it was his business to 
+march with all speed against Sardis, before the power 
+of the Lydians could again be assembled. So he re- 
+solved and so he did speedily; he marched his army 
+into Lydia and so himself came to bring the news of 
+it to Croesus. All had turned out contrariwise to 
+Croesus' expectation, and he was in a great quandary; 
+nevertheless, he led out the Lydians to battle. Now 
+at this time there was no nation in Asia more valiant 
+or warlike than tlie Lydian. It was their custom to 
+fight on horseback, carrying long spears, and they 
+were skilled in the management of horses. | 
+80. So the armies met in the plain, wide and bare, 
+which is before the city of Sardis: the Hyllusand other 
+rivers flow across it and rush violently together into 
+the greatest of them, which is called Hermus (this 
+flows from the mountain sacred to the Mother Dindy- 
+mene! and issues into the sea near the city of Pho- 
+caea) Here when Cyrus saw the Lydians arraying 
+
+
+1 Identified with the Phrygian and Lydian goddess 
+Cybele. 
+
+
+99 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μάχην τασσομένους, καταρρωδήσας τὴν ἵππον 
+ἐποίησε ᾿Αρπάγου ὑποθεμένου ἀνδρὸς Μήδου 
+τοιόνδε: ὅσαι τῷ στρατῷ τῷ ἑωυτοῦ εἵποντο 
+σιτοφόροι τε καὶ σκευοφόροι κάμηλοι, ταύτας πά- 
+σας ἁλίσας καὶ ἀπελὼν τὰ ἄχθεα ἄνδρας ἐπ᾿ 
+αὐτὰς ἀνέβησε ἱππάδα στολὴν ἐνεσταλμένους, 
+σκευάσας δὲ αὐτοὺς προσέταξε τῆς ἄλλης στρα- 
+τιῆς προϊέναι πρὸς τὴν Κροίσου ἵππον, τῇ δὲ 
+καμήλῳ ἕπεσθαι τὸν πεξὸν στρατὸν ἐκέλευσε, 
+ὄπισθε δὲ τοῦ grelod ἐπέταξε τὴν πᾶσαν ἵππον. 
+ὡς δέ οἱ πάντες διετετάχατο, παραίνεσε τῶν μὲν 
+ἄλλων Λυδῶν μὴ φειδομένους κτείνειν πάντα τὸν 
+ἐμποδὼν γινόμενον, Κροῖσον δὲ αὐτὸν μὴ κτείνειν, 
+μηδὲ ἣν συλλαμβανόμενος ἀμύνηται. ταῦτα μὲν 
+παραίνεσε, τὰς δὲ καμήλους ἔταξε ἀντία τῆς ἵπ- 
+που τῶνδε εἵνεκεν: κάμηλον ἵππος φοβέεται, καὶ 
+οὐκ ἀνέχεται οὔτε τὴν ἰδέην αὐτοῦ ὁρέων οὔτε. 
+τὴν ὀδμὴν ὀσφραινόμενος. αὐτοῦ δὴ ὧν τούτου 
+εἵνεκεν ἐσεσόφιστο, ἵνα τῷ Κροίσῳ ἄχρηστον 7 
+τὸ ἱππικόν, τῷ δή τι καὶ ἐπεῖχε ἐλλάμψεσθαι ὁ 
+Λυδός. ὡς δὲ καὶ συνήισαν ἐς τὴν μάχην, ἐν- 
+θαῦτα ὡς ὤσφραντο τάχιστα τῶν καμήλων οἱ 
+ἵπποι καὶ εἶδον αὐτάς, ὀπίσω ἀνέστρεφον, διέ- 
+Φθαρτό τε τῷ Κροίσῳ ἡ ἐλπίς. οὐ μέντοι ot γε 
+Λυδοὶ τὸ ἐνθεῦτεν δειλοὶ ἦσαν, ἀλλ᾽ ὡς ἔμαθον τὸ 
+γινόμενον, ἀποθορόντες ἀπὸ τῶν ἵππων πεζοὶ 
+τοῖσι Πέρσῃσι συνέβαλλον. χρόνῳ δὲ πεσόντων 
+ἀμφοτέρων πολλῶν ἐτράποντο οἱ Λυδοί, κατειλη- 
+θέντες δὲ ἐς τὸ τεῖχος ἐπολιορκέοντο ὑπὸ τῶν 
+Περσέων. 
+
+81. Τοῖσι μὲν δὴ κατεστήκεε πολιορκίη. Kopoi- 
+σος δὲ δοκέων οἱ χρόνον ἐπὶ μακρὸν ἔσεσθαι τὴν 
+
+
+100 
+
+
+BOOK I. 80-81 
+
+
+their battle, he was afraid of their horse, and there- 
+fore did as I will show by the counsel of one Har- 
+pagus, a Mede. Assembling all the camels that 
+followed his army bearing food and baggage, he took 
+off their burdens and set men upon them equipped 
+like cavalrymen; having so equipped them he 
+ordered them to advance before his army against 
+Croesus’ horse; he charged the infantry to follow 
+the camels, and set all his horse behind the infantry. 
+When they were all arrayed, he commanded them to 
+kill all other Lydians who came in their way, and 
+spare none, but not to kill Croesus himself, even if he 
+should defend himself against capture. Such was his 
+command. The reason of his posting the camels to 
+face the cavalry was this: horses fear camels and can 
+endure neither the sight nor the smell of them ; this 
+then was the intent of his device, that Croesus’ 
+cavalry, on which the Lydian relied for the winning 
+of some glory, might be of no use. So when battle 
+was joined, as soon as the horses smelt and saw the 
+camels they turned to flight, and all Croesus’ hope 
+was lost. Nevertheless the Lydians were no cowards ; 
+when they saw what was happening they leaped from 
+their horses and fought the Persians on foot. Many 
+of both armies fell; at length the Lydians were 
+routed and driven within their city wall, where they 
+were besieged by the Persians. 
+
+81. So then they were beleaguered. But Croesus, 
+supposing that the siege would last a long time, sent 
+
+
+IO1 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+πολιορκίην ἔπεμπε ἐκ τοῦ τείχεος ἄλλους ἀγγέ- 
+λους ἐς τὰς συμμαχίας: οἱ μὲν γὰρ πρότεροι 
+διεπέμποντο ἐς πέμπτον μῆνα προερέοντες συλ.- 
+λέγεσθαι ἐς Σάρδις, τούτους δὲ ἐξέπεμπε τὴν 
+ταχίστην δέεσθαι βοηθέειν ὡς πολιορκεομένου 
+Κροίσου. 
+
+82. Ἔς τε δὴ ὧν τὰς ἄλλας ἔπεμπε συμμαχίας 
+καὶ δὴ καὶ ἐς Λακεδαίμονα. τοῖσι δὲ καὶ αὐτοῖσε 
+τοῖσι Σπαρτιήτησι κατ᾽ αὐτὸν τοῦτον τὸν χρόνον 
+συνεπεπτώκεε ἔρις ἐοῦσα «πρὸς ᾿Αργείους περὶ 
+χώρου καλεομένου Θυρέης' τὰς γὰρ Θυρέας ταύ- 
+τας ἐούσας τῆς ᾿Αργολίδος μοίρης ἀποταμόμενοι 
+ἔσχον οἱ Λακεδαιμόνιοι. ἦν δὲ καὶ ἡ μέχρι Ma- 
+λέων ἡ πρὸς ἑσπέρην ᾿Αργείων, ἥ τε ἐν τῇ ἠπείρῳ 
+χώρη καὶ ἡ Κυθηρίη νῆσος καὶ αἱ λοιπαὶ τῶν 
+νήσων. βοηθησάντων δὲ ᾿Αργείων τῇ σφετέρῃ 
+ἀποταμνομένῃ, ἐνθαῦτα συνέβησαν ἐς λόγους 
+συνελθόντες ὥστε τριηκοσίους ἑκατέρων payé- 
+σασθαι, ὁκότεροι δ᾽ ἂν περιγένωνται, τούτων εἶναι 
+τὸν χῶρον: τὸ δὲ πλῆθος τοῦ στρατοῦ ἀπαλλάσ- 
+σεσθαι ἑκάτερον ἐς τὴν ἑωυτοῦ μηδὲ παραμένειν 
+ἀγωνιζομένων, τῶνδε εἵνεκεν ἵνα μὴ (παρεόντων 
+τῶν στρατοπέδων) ὁρῶντες οἱ ἕτεροι ἑσσουμένους 
+τοὺς σφετέρους ἐπαμύνοιεν. συνθέμενοι ταῦτα 
+ἀπαλλάσσοντο, λογάδες δὲ ἑκατέρων ὕπολει- 
+φθέντες συνέβαλον. μαχομένων δὲ σφέων καὶ 
+γινομένων ἰσοπαλέων ὑπελείποντο ἐξ ἀνδρῶν 
+ἑξακοσίων τρεῖς, ᾿Αργείων μὲν ᾿Αλκήνωρ τε 
+καὶ Χρομίος, Λακεδαιμονίων δὲ ᾿Οθρυάδης: ὑπε- 
+λείφθησαν δὲ οὗτοι νυκτὸς ἐπελθούσης. οἱ μὲν 
+
+δύο τῶν ᾿Αργείων ὡς νενικηκότες ἔθεον ἐς 
+τὸ Αργος, ὁ δὲ τῶν Λακεδαιμονίων ᾿Ὀθρυάδης 
+. 102 
+
+
+BOOK I. 81-82 
+
+
+messengers again from the city to his allies; whereas 
+the former envoys had been sent to summon them to 
+muster at Sardis in five months’ time, these were to 
+announce that Croesus was besieged and to entreat 
+
+help with all speed. | 
+82. So he sent to the Lacedaemonians as well as 
+the rest of the allies. Now at this very time the 
+Spartans themselves had a feud on hand with the 
+Argives, in respect of the country called Thyrea; 
+for this was a part of the Argive territory which the 
+Lacedaemonians had cut off and occupied. (All the 
+land towards the west, as far as Malea, belonged then 
+to the Argives, and not the mainland only, but the 
+island of Cythera and the other islands.) The Argives 
+came out to save their territory from being cut off; 
+then after debate the two armies agreed that three 
+hundred of each side should fight, and whichever 
+party won should possess the land. The rest of each 
+army was to go away to its own country and not be 
+present at the battle; for it was feared that if the 
+armies remained on the field, the men of either party 
+would render help to their comrades if they saw 
+them losing. Having thus agreed, the armies drew 
+off, and picked men of each side were left and fought. 
+Neither could gain advantage in the battle ; at last, of 
+six hundred there were left only three, Alcenor and 
+Chromios of the Argives, Othryades of the Lacedae- 
+monians: these three were left alive at nightfall. 
+Then the two Argives, deeming themselves victors, 
+ran to Argos; but Othryades, the Lacedaemonian, 
+103 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+σκυλεύσας TOUS ᾿Αργείων νεκροὺς καὶ προσφορή- 
+σας τὰ ὅπλα πρὸς τὸ ἑωυτοῦ στρατόπεδον ἐν τῇ 
+τάξι εἶχε ἑωυτόν. ἡμέρῃ δὲ δευτέρῃ παρῆσαν 
+πυνθανόμενοι ἀμφότεροι, τέως μὲν δὴ αὐτοὶ ὁ ἑκά- 
+τεροι ἔφασαν νικᾶν, λέγοντες οἳ μὲν ὡς ἑωυτῶν 
+πλεῦνες περιγεγόνασι, οἳ δὲ τοὺς μὲν ἀποφαίνον- 
+τες πεφευγότας, τὸν δὲ σφέτερον παραμείναντα 
+καὶ σκυλεύσαντα τοὺς ἐκείνων νεκρούς" Τέλος δὲ 
+ἐς τῆς ἔριδος συμπεσόντες ἐμάχοντο, πεσόντων 
+δὲ καὶ ἀμφοτέρων πολλῶν ἐνίκων Λακεδαιμόνιοι. 
+᾿Αργεῖοι μέν νυν ἀπὸ τούτου τοῦ χρόνου͵ κατα- 
+κειράμενοι τὰς κεφαλάς, πρότερον ἐπάναγκες 
+κομῶντες, ἐποιήσαντο νόμον τε κα κατάρην μὴ 
+πρότερον θρέψειν κόμην ᾿Αργείων μηδένα, μηδὲ 
+τὰς γυναῖκάς σφι χρυσοφορήσειν, πρὶν Θυρέας 
+ἀνασώσωνται.. Λακεδαιμόνιοι δὲ τὰ ἐναντία τού- 
+των ἔθεντο νόμον" οὐ γὰρ κομῶντες πρὸ τούτου 
+ἀπὸ τούτου κομᾶν. τὸν δὲ ἕνα λέγουσι τὸν περι- 
+λειφθέντα τῶν, τριηκοσίων Ὀθρυάδην, αἰσχυνό- 
+μενον ἀπονοστέειν ἐς Σπάρτην τῶν οἱ συλλοχι- 
+τέων διεφθαρμένων, αὐτοῦ μιν ἐν τῇσι Θυρέῃσι 
+καταχρήσασθαι ἑ ἑωυτόν, 
+
+88. Τοιούτων δὲ τοῖσι Σπαρτιήτῃσι ἐνεστεώτων 
+πρηγμάτων ἧκε ὁ Σαρδιηνὸς κῆρυξ δεόμενος 
+Κροίσῳ βοηθέειν πολιορκεομένῳ. ù δὲ ὅμως, 
+ἐπείτε ἐπύθοντο τοῦ κήρυκος, ἁρμέατο βοηθέειν. 
+καί σφι ἤδη παρεσκευασμένοισι καὶ νεῶν ἐουσέων 
+ἑτοίμων ἦλθε ἄλλη ἀγγελίη, ὡς ἡλώκοι τὸ τεῖχος 
+τῶν Λυδῶν καὶ ἔχοιτο Κροῖσος ξωγρηθείς. οὕτω 
+δὴ οὗτοι μὲν συμφορὴν ποιησάμενοι μεγάλην 
+ἐπέπαυντο. 
+
+84. Σάρδιες δὲ ἥλωσαν ὧδε. ἐπειδὴ τεσσερεσ- 
+
+
+104 
+
+
+BOOK I. 82-84 
+
+
+spoiled the Argive dead, bore the armour to his own 
+army's camp and remained in his place. On the next 
+
+
+day both armies came to learn the issue. Fora while . 
+
+
+both claimed the victory, the Argives pleading that 
+more of their men had survived, the Lacedaemonians 
+showing that the Argives had fled, while their man 
+had stood his ground and despoiled the enemy dead. 
+At last the dispute so ended that they joined battle 
+and fought ; many of both sides fell, but the Lacedae- 
+monians had the victory. Ever after this the Argives, 
+who before had worn their hair long by fixed custom, 
+shaved their heads, and made a law, with a curse 
+added thereto, that no Argive should grow his hair, 
+and no Argive woman should wear gold, till they 
+should recover Thyreae; and the Lacedaemonians 
+made a contrary law, that ever after they should wear 
+their hair long; for till now they had not so worn it. 
+Othryades, the one survivor of the three hundred, 
+was ashamed, it is said, to return to Sparta after all 
+the men of his company had been slain, and killed 
+himself on the spot at Thyreae. 
+
+83. All this had befallen the Spartans when the 
+Sardian herald came to entreat their help for Croesus, 
+now besieged; yet for all that, when they heard 
+the herald they prepared to send help; but when 
+they were already equipped and their ships ready, 
+there came a second message which told that the 
+fortress of the Lydians was taken and Croesus held a 
+prisoner. Then indeed, though greatly grieved, they 
+ceased from their enterprise. 
+
+84. Now this is how Sardis was taken. When 
+
+
+105 
+
+
+Pe 
+
+
+-i 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+καιδεκάτη ἐγένετο ἡμέρη πολιορκεομένῳ Κροίσῳ, 
+Κῦρος τῇ στρατιῇ τῇ ἑωυτοῦ διαπέμψας ἱ ἱππέας 
+προεῖπε τῷ πρώτῳ ἐπιβάντι τοῦ τείχεος δῶρα 
+δώσειν. μετὰ δὲ τοῦτο πειρησαμένης τῆς στρα- 
+τιῆς ὡς ov προεχώρεε, ἐνθαῦτα τῶν ἄλλων πε- 
+παυμένων ἀνῆρ. Μάρδος ἐπειρᾶτο προσβαίνων, 
+τῷ οὔνομα ἦν Ὑροιάδης, κατὰ τοῦτο τῆς ἀκρο- 
+πόλιος τῇ οὐδεὶς ἐτέτακτο φύλακος" οὐ γὰρ ἦν 
+δεινὸν κατὰ τοῦτο μὴ ἁλῷ κοτέ. ἀπότομός τε 
+γὰρ ἐστὶ ταύτῃ ἡ ἀκρόπολις καὶ ἄμαχος" τῇ οὐδὲ 
+Μήλης ὁ πρότερον βασιλεὺς Σαρδίων μούνῃ 
+οὗ περιήνεικε τὸν λέοντα TOV οἱ ἡ παλλακὴ 
+ἔτεκε, Τελμησσέων δικασάντων ὡς περιενεῖ- 
+χθέντος τοῦ λέοντος τὸ τεῖχος ἔσονται Σάρδιες 
+ἀνάλωτοι. ὁ δὲ Μήλης κατὰ τὸ ἄλλο τεῖχος 
+περιενείκας, τῇ ἦν ἐπίμαχον τὸ χωρίον]. τῆς 
+ἀκροπόλιος, κατηλόγησε τοῦτο ὡς ἐὸν ἄμαχόν τε 
+καὶ ἆ ἀπότομον: ἔστι δὲ πρὸς τοῦ Ἑμώλου τετραμ- 
+μένον τῆς πόλιος. 0 ὧν δὴ Ὕροιάδης οὗτος ὁ 
+Μάρδος ἐδὼν τῇ προτεραίῃ τῶν τινα Λυδῶν κατὰ 
+τοῦτο τῆς ἀκροπόλιος καταβάντα ἐπὶ κυνέην 
+ἄνωθεν κατακυλισθεῖσαν καὶ «ἀνελόμενον, ἐφρά- 
+σθη καὶ ἐς θυμὸν ἐβάλετο: τότε δὲ δὴ αὐτός τε 
+ἀναβεβήκεε καὶ κατ᾽ αὐτὸν ἄλλοι. Περσέων avé- 
+βαινον' προσβάντων δὲ συχνῶν οὕτω δὴ Σάρδιές 
+τε ἡλώκεσαν καὶ πᾶν τὸ ἄστυ ἐπορθέετο, 
+
+86. Kar αὐτὸν δὲ , Κροῖσον τάδε ἐγίνετο. ἦν 
+οἱ παῖς, ToU καὶ πρότερον ἐπεμνήσθην, τὰ μὲν 
+ἄλλα ἐπιεικής, ἄφωνος δέ. ἐν τῇ ὧν παρελθούσῃ 
+εὐεστοῖ ὁ Κροῖσος τὸ πᾶν ἐς αὐτὸν ἐπεποιήκεε, 
+ἄλλα τε (Ti ppa le καὶ δὴ καὶ ἐς Δελφοὺς 
+
+1 τὸ χωρίον is bracketed by Stein. 
+106 
+
+
+BOOK I. 84-85 
+
+
+Croesus had been besieged for fourteen days, Cyrus 
+sent horsemen about in his army to promise rewards to 
+him who should first mount the wall After this the 
+army made an assault, but with no success. Then, all 
+the rest being at a stand, a certain Mardian! called 
+H yroeades essayed to mount by a part of the citadel 
+where no guard had been set; for here the height on 
+which the citadel stood was sheer and hardly to be 
+assaulted, and none feared that it could be taken by 
+an attack made here. This was the only place where 
+Meles the former king of Sardis had not carried the 
+lion which his concubine had borne him, the Telmes- 
+sians having declared that if this lion were carried 
+round the walls Sardis could never be taken. Meles 
+then carried the lion round the rest of the wall of the 
+acropolis where it could be assaulted, but neglected 
+this place, because the height was sheer and defied 
+attack. It is on the side of the city which faces 
+towards Tmolus. So then it chanced that on the day 
+before this Mardian, Hyroeades, had seen one of the 
+Lydians descend by this part of the citadel after a 
+helmet that had fallen down, and fetch it; he took 
+note of this and considered it, and now he himself 
+climbed up, and other Persians after him. Many 
+ascended, and thus was Sardis taken and all the city 
+like to be sacked. 
+
+85. I will now tell what befell Croesus himself. 
+He had a son, of whom I have already spoken, a 
+likely youth enough save that he was dumb. Now 
+in his past days of prosperity Croesus had done all 
+that he could for his son ; and besides resorting to 
+other plans he had sent to Delphi to inquire of the 
+
+
+1 The Mardi were a nomad Persian tribe. 
+
+
+107 
+VOL. I. E 
+
+
+-D 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+περὶ αὐτοῦ ἐπεπόμφεε χρησομένους. ἡ δὲ Πυθίη 
+οἱ εἶπε τάδε. 
+
+
+Λυδὲ γένος, πολλῶν βασιλεῦ, μέγα νήπιε 
+«Κροῖσε, 
+
+μὴ βούλου πολύευκτον i inv ἑνὰ δώματ ἀκούειν 
+
+παιδὸς φθεγγομένου, τὸ δέ σοι πολὺ λώιον 
+
+
+ἀμφίς 
+ἔμμεναι' αὐδήσει γὰρ ἐν ἤματι πρῶτον ἀνόλβῳ. 
+
+
+ἁλισκομένου δὴ τοῦ τείχεος, Tee γὰρ τῶν τις 
+Περσέων ἀλλογνώσας Κροῖσον ὡς ἀποκτενέων, 
+Κροῖσος μέν νυν ὁρέων ἐπιόντα ὑπὸ τῆς παρεούσης 
+συμφορῆς παρηµελήκεε, οὐδέ τί οἱ διέφερε πλη- 
+γέντι ἀποθανεῖν' ὁ ὁ δὲ παῖς οὗτος ὁ ἄφωνος. ὡς εἶδε 
+ἐπιόντα τὸν Πέρσην, ἱ ὑπὸ δέους τε καὶ κακοῦ ἔρρηξε 
+φωνήν, εἶπε δὲ ''"Ὠνθρώπε, μὴ κτεῖνε Κροῖσον." 
+οὗτος μὲν δὴ τοῦτο πρῶτον ἐφθέγξατο, μετὰ δὲ 
+τοῦτο ἤδη ἐφώνεε τὸν πάντα χρόνον τῆς Cons. 
+86. Οἱ δὲ Πέρσαι τάς τε δὴ Σάρδις ἔσχον καὶ 
+αὐτὸν Κροῖσον ἐζώγρησαν, ἄρξαντα € ἔτεα τεσσερεσ- 
+καίδεκα καὶ τεσσερεσκαίδεκα ἡμέρας πολιορκη- 
+θέντα, κατὰ τὸ χρηστήριόν τε καταπαύσαντα τὴν 
+ἑωυτοῦ μεγάλην ἀρχήν. .λαβόντες δὲ αὐτὸν οἱ 
+Πέρσαι ἤγαγον παρὰ Üpov. ὃ δὲ συννήσας 
+πυρὴν μεγάλην ἀνεβίβασε ἐπ᾽ αὐτὴν τὸν Κροῖσόν 
+τε ἐν πέδῃσι δεδεμένον καὶ δὶς ἑπτὰ Λυδῶν Tap 
+αὐτὸν παῖδας, ἐν νόῳ ἔχων εἴτε δὴ ἀκροθίνια 
+ταῦτα καταγιεῖν θεῶν ὅτεῳ δή, εἴτε καὶ εὐχὴν 
+ἐπιτελέσαι θέλων, εἴτε καὶ πυθόμενος τὸν Κροΐσον 
+εἶναι θεοσεβέα τοῦδε εἵνεκεν ἀνεβίβασε ἐπὶ τὴν 
+πυρήν, βουλόμενος εἰδέναι εἴ τίς μιν δαιμόνων 
+ῥύσεται τοῦ μὴ ξῶντα κατακαυθῆναι. τὸν μὲν δὴ 
+
+
+τοῦ 
+
+
+BOOK I. 85-86 
+
+
+oracle concerning him. The Pythian priestess thus 
+answered him: 
+
+
+< Lydian, of many the lord, thou know’st not the 
+
+boon that thou askest. 
+
+Wish not nor pray that the voice of thy son may 
+be heard in the palace ; 
+
+Better it were for thee that dumb he abide as 
+aforetime ; 
+
+Luckless that day shall be when first thou hearest 
+him speaking.” 
+
+
+So at the taking of the fortress a certain Persian, 
+not knowing who Croesus was, came at him with in- 
+tent to kill him. Croesus saw him coming, but by 
+stress of misfortune he was past caring, and would as 
+soon be smitten to death as not ; but this dumb son, 
+seeing the Persian coming, in his fear and his grief 
+broke into speech and cried, “Man, do not kill 
+Croesus!" This was the first word he uttered ; and 
+after that for all the days of his life he had power 
+of speech. 
+
+86. So the Persians took Sardis and made Croesus 
+himself prisoner, he having reigned fourteen years and 
+been besieged fourteen days, and, as the oracle 
+foretold, brought his own great empire to an end. 
+Having then taken him they led him to Cyrus. 
+Cyrus had a great pyre built, on which he set Croesus, 
+bound in chains, and twice seven Lydian boys beside 
+him: either his intent was to sacrifice these firstfruits 
+to some one of his gods, or he desired to fulfil a vow, 
+or it may be that, learning that Croesus was a god- 
+
+
+fearing man, he set him for this cause on the pyre, 
+
+
+because he would fain know if any deity would 
+save him from being burnt alive. It is related 
+
+
+109 
+
+
+i: 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ποιέειν ταῦτα. TQ δὲ Κροίσῳ ἑστεῶτι ἐπὶ τῆς 
+πυρῆς ἐσελθεῖν, καίπερ ἐν κακῷ ἐόντι τοσούτῳ, 
+τὸ τοῦ Σόλωνος ὥς οἱ εἴη σὺν θεῷ εἰρημένον, τὸ 
+μηδένα εἶναι τῶν ζωόντων ὄλβιον. ὡς δὲ ἄρα μιν 
+προσστῆναι τοῦτο, ἀνενεικάμενόν TE καὶ ava- 
+στενάξαντα ἐκ πολλῆς ἡσυχίης ἐς τρὶς ὀνομάσαι 
+T Σόλων." καὶ τὸν Κῦρον ἀκούσαντα κελεῦσαι 
+τοὺς ἑρμηνέας ἐπειρέσθαι τὸν Κροῖσον τίνα τοῦτον 
+ἐπικαλέοιτο, καὶ τοὺς προσελθόντας. ἐπειρωτᾶν" 
+Κροῖσον δὲ τέως μὲν σιγὴν. ἔχειν εἰρωτώμενον, 
+μετὰ δὲ ὡς ἠναγκάξετο, εἰπεῖν “ Tov ἂν ἐγὼ πᾶσι 
+τυράννοισι προετίµησα μεγάλων Χρημάτων ἐς 
+λόγους ἐλθεῖν." ὡς δέ σφι ἄσημα ἔφραξε, πάλιν 
+ἐπειρώτων τὰ λεγόμενα. λεπαρεόντων δὲ αὐτῶν 
+καὶ ὄχλον παρεχόντων, ἔλεγε δὴ ὡς ἦλθε ἀρχὴν 
+ὁ Σόλων ἐὼν ᾿Αθηναῖος, καὶ θεησάμενος πάντα 
+τὸν ἑωυτοῦ ὄλβον ἀποφλαυρίσειε οἷα δὴ εἴπας, 
+ὥς τε αὐτῷ πάντα ἀποβεβήκοι τῇ περ ἐκεῖνος 
+εἶπε, οὐδέν τι μᾶλλον ἐς ἑωυτὸν λέγων 5 οὐκ ἐς 
+ἅπαν τὸ ἀνθρώπινον καὶ μάλιστα τοὺς παρὰ σφίσι 
+αὐτοῖσι ὀλβίους δοκέοντας εἶναι. τὸν μὲν Κροῖσον 
+ταῦτα ἀπηγέεσθαι, τῆς δὲ πυρῆς ἤδη ἁμμένης 
+καίεσθαι. τὰ περιέσχατα. καὶ τὸν Κῦρον ἀκού- 
+σαντα τῶν ἑρμηνέων ' τὰ Κροῖσος εἶπε, μεταγνόντα 
+τε καὶ ἐννώσαντα ὅτι καὶ αὐτὸς ἄνθρωπος ἐὼν 
+ἄλλον ἄνθρωπον, γενόμενον ἑωυτοῦ εὐδαιμονίῃ 
+οὐκ ἐλάσσω, ξῶντα πυρὶ διδοίη, πρός τε τούτοισι 
+δείσαντα τὴν τίσιν καὶ ἐπιλεξάμενον ὡς οὐδὲν εἴη 
+τῶν ἐν ἀνθρώποισι ἀσφαλέως ἔχον, κελεύειν 
+σβεννύναι τὴν ταχίστην τὸ καιόμενον Tip! καὶ 
+
+
+119 
+
+
+2 πῦρ is bracketed by Stein. 
+
+
+BOOK 1. 86 
+
+
+then that he did this; but Croesus, as he stood 
+on the pyre, remembered even in his evil plight 
+how divinely inspired was that saying of Solon, that 
+no living man was blest. When this came to his 
+mind, having till now spoken no word, he sighed 
+deeply and groaned, and thrice uttered the name of 
+Solon. Cyrus heard it, and bade his interpreters 
+ask Croesus who was this on whom he called; they 
+came near and asked him ; Croesus at first would say 
+nothing in answer, but presently, being compelled, he 
+said, * It is one with whom I would have given much 
+wealth that all sovereigns should hold converse." 
+This was a dark saying to them, and again they 
+questioned him of the words which he spoke. As they 
+were instant, and troubled him, he told them then how 
+Solon, an Athenian, had first come, and how he had 
+seen all his royal state and made light of it (saying 
+thus and thus), and how all had happened to Croesus 
+as Solon said, though he spoke with less regard to 
+Croesus than to mankind in general and chiefly those 
+who deemed themselves blest, While Croesus thus 
+told his story, the pyre had already béen kindled and 
+the outer parts of it were burning. Then Cyrus, 
+when he heard from the interpreters what Croesus 
+said, repented of his purpose. He bethought him 
+that he, being also a man, was burning alive another 
+man who had once been as fortunate as himself; 
+moreover, he feared the retribution, and it came to his 
+mind that there was no stability in human affairs; 
+wherefore he gave command to quench the burning 
+
+III 
+
+
+Qo 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+καταβιβάξειν Κροῖσόν τε καὶ τοὺς μετὰ Κροίσου. 
+καὶ τοὺς πειρωμένους οὐ δύνασθαι ἔτι τοῦ πυρὸς 
+ἐπικρατῆσαι. 
+
+87. ᾿Ενθαῦτα λέγεται, ὑπὸ Λυδῶν Κροῖσον 
+μαθόντα τὴν Κύρου μετάγνωσιν, ὡς ὥρα πάντα 
+μὲν ἄνδρα σβεννύντα τὸ πῦρ, δυναμένους δὲ 
+οὐκέτι καταλαβεῖν, ἐπιβώσασθαι τὸν ᾿Απόλλωνα 
+ἐπικαλεόμενον, εἴ τί οἱ κεχαρισμένον ἐξ αὐτοῦ 
+ἐδωρήθη, παραστῆναι καὶ ῥύσασθαι αὐτὸν ἐκ τοῦ 
+παρεόντος κακοῦ. τὸν μὲν δακρύοντα ἐπικαλέ- 
+εσθαι τὸν θεόν, ἐκ δὲ αἰθρίης τε καὶ νηνεμίης 
+συνδραμεῖν ἐξαπίνης νέφεα καὶ χειμῶνά τε καταρ- 
+ραγῆναι καὶ ὗσαι ὕδατι λαβροτάτῳ, κατασβε- 
+σθῆναί τε τὴν πυρήν. οὕτω δὴ μαθόντα. τὸν 
+Κῦρον ὡς εἴη ὁ Κροῖσος καὶ θεοφιλὴς καὶ ἀνὴρ 
+ἀγαθός, καταβιβάσαντα αὐτὸν ἀπὸ τῆς πυρῆς 
+εὐρέσθαι τάδε. s Κροῖσε, τίς σε ἀνθρώπων 
+ἀνέγνωσε ἐπὶ γῆν τὴν ἐμὴν στρατευσάμενον 
+
+ολέμιον ἀντὶ φίλου ἐ ἐμοὶ καταστῆναι; ᾿ ὃ δὲ εἶπε 
+“Ὦ βασιλεῦ, ' ἐγὼ ταῦτα ἔπρηξα τῇ σῇ μὲν 
+εὐδαιμονίῃ, τῇ ἐμεωυτοῦ δὲ κακοδαιμονίῃ, αἴτιος 
+δὲ τούτων ἐγένετο ὁ Ἑλλήνων θεὸς. ἐπαείρας ἐμὲ 
+στρατεύεσθαι. οὐδεὶς γὰρ οὕτω ἀνόητος ἐστὶ 
+ὅστις πόλεμον πρὸ εἰρήνης αἱρέεται" ἐν μὲν γὰρ 
+τῇ οἱ | παῖδες τοὺς πατέρας θάπτουσι, ἐ ἐν δὲ τῷ οἱ 
+πατέρες τοὺς παῖδας. ἀλλὰ ταῦτα δαϊμοσί κου 
+φίλον ἣν οὕτω γενέσθαι." 
+
+88. Ὃ μὲν ταῦτα ἔλεγε, Κῦρος δὲ αὐτὸν λύσας 
+κατεῖσέ τε ἐγγὺς ἑωυτοῦ καὶ κάρτα ev πολλῇ 
+προμηθίῃ εἶχε, ᾽ἀπεθώμαξέ τε ὁρέων καὶ αὐτὸς 
+καὶ οἱ περ ἐκεῖνον ἐόντες πάντες. ὃ δὲ συννοίῃ 
+ἐχόμενος ἥσυχος ἦν' μετὰ δὲ ἐπιστραφείς τε καὶ 
+
+
+112 
+
+
+BOOK I. 86-88 
+
+
+fire with all speed and bring Croesus and those with 
+him down from the pyre. But his servants could not 
+for all their endeavour now master the fire. 
+
+87. Then (so the Lydians relate), when Croesus was 
+aware of Cyrus' repentance and saw all men striving 
+to quench the fire but no longer able to check it, he 
+cried aloud to Apollo, praying that if the god had ever 
+been pleased with any gift of his offering he would 
+now come to his aid and save him from present de- 
+struction. Thus with weeping he invoked the god: and 
+suddenly in a clear and windless sky clouds gathered 
+and a storm burst and there was a most violent rain, 
+so that the pyre was quenched. Then indeed Cyrus 
+perceived that Croesus was a good man and one be- 
+loved of the gods; and bringing him down from the 
+pyre, he questioned him, saying, “What man persuaded 
+you, Croesus, to attack my country with an army, 
+and be my enemy instead of my friend ?" “O King,” 
+said Croesus, “it was I who did it, and brought there- 
+by good fortune to you and ill to myself : but the cause 
+of all was the god of the Greeks, in that he encouraged 
+me to send my army. No man is so foolish as to de- 
+sire war more than peace: for in peace sons bury their 
+fathers, but in war fathers bury their sons. But I 
+must believe that heaven willed all this so to be." 
+
+88. So said Croesus. Then Cyrus loosed him and 
+set him near to himself and took much thought for 
+him, and both he and all that were with him were 
+astonished when they looked upon Croesus. He for 
+his part was silent, deep in thought. Presently he 
+
+
+II3 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἰδόμενος τοὺς Πέρσας τὸ τῶν Λυδῶν ἄστυ κεραΐ- 
+ἕοντας εἶπε ‘OQ βασιλεῦ, κότερον λέγειν πρὸς σὲ 
+τὰ νοέων τυγχάνω ἢ σιγᾶν ἐν τῷ παρεόντι χρή; ý 
+Kópos δέ μιν θαρσέοντα. ἐκέλευε λέγειν ὅ τι 
+βούλοιτο. ὃ δὲ αὐτὸν εἰρώτα λέγων “ Οὗτος ὁ 
+πολλὸς ὅμιλος Tí ταῦτα πολλῇ σπουδῇ ἐργά- 
+ἕεται; ὃ δὲ εἶπε “Πόλιν τε τὴν σὴν διαρπάξει 
+καὶ χρήματα, τὰ σὰ διαφορέει." Κροῖσος δὲ 
+ἀμείβετο «Οὔτε πόλιν τὴν ἐμὴν οὔτε χρήματα τὰ 
+ἐμὰ διαρπάξει: οὐδὲν γὰρ ἐμοὶ ἔτι τούτων μέτα: 
+ἀλλὰ φέρουσί τε καὶ ἄγουσι τὰ σά. j 
+
+89. Κύρῳ δὲ ἐπιμελὲς ἐγένε το τὰ Κροῖσος εἶπε" 
+μεταστησάμενος. δὲ τοὺς ἄλλους, εἴρετο Κροῖσον 
+ὅ τι οἱ ἐνορῴη ἐν τοῖσι ποιευμένοισι. ὃ δὲ εἶπε 
+ae Ἐπείτε pe θεοὶ ἔδωκαν δοῦλον σοί, δικαιῶ, εἴ τι 
+ἐνορέω πλέον, σημαίνειν σοί. Πέρσαι φύσιν 
+ἐόντες ὑβρισταὶ εἰσὶ ἀχρήματοι. ἣν ὧν σὺ 
+τούτους περιίδῃς διαρπάσαντας καὶ κατασχόντας 
+χρήματα μεγάλα, τάδε τοι ἐξ αὐτῶν ἐπίδοξα 
+γενέσθαι" ὃς ἂν αὐτῶν πλεῖστα -κατάσχῃ, τοῦτον 
+προσδέκεσθαί τοι ἐπαναστησόμενον. νῦν ὧν 
+ποίησον ὧδε, εἴ τοι ἀρέσκει τὰ ἐγὼ λέγω" κάτισον 
+τῶν δορυφόρων ἐπὶ πάσῃσι τῇσι πύλησι φυλά- 
+κους, οἳ λεγόντων πρὸς τοὺς ἐκφέροντας τὰ χρή- 
+ματα ἀπαιρεόμενοι ὡς σφέα ἀναγκαίως ἔχει δεκα- 
+τευθῆναι τῷ Διί. καὶ σύ τέ σφι οὐκ ἀπεχθήσεαι 
+βίῃ ἀπαιρεόμενος τὰ χρήματα, καὶ ἐκεῖνοι συγ- 
+γνόντες ποιέειν σε δίκαια ἑκόντες προήσουσι." 
+
+90. Ταῦτα ἀκούων ὃ Κῦρος ὑπερήδετο, ὥς οἱ 
+ἐδόκεε εὖ ὑποτίθεσθαι: αἰνέσας δὲ πολλά, καὶ 
+ἐντειλάμενος τοῖσι δορυφόροισι τὰ Κροῖσος ὗπε- 
+θήκατο ἐπιτελέειν, εἶπε πρὸς Κροῖσον τάδε. 
+
+
+114 
+
+
+BOOK I. 88-90 
+
+
+turned and said (for he saw the Persians sacking the 
+city of the Lydians), “O King, am I to say to you now 
+what is in my mind, or keep silence ?" Cyrus bidding 
+him to say boldly what he would, Croesus asked, 
+“Yonder multitude, what is this whereon they are so 
+busily engaged ?" * They are plundering,” said Cyrus, 
+“ your city and carrying off your possessions." “Nay,” 
+Croesus answered, * not my city, nor my possessions ; 
+for I have no longer any share of all this; it is your 
+wealth that they are ravishing?” 
+
+89. Cyrus thought upon what Croesus said, and 
+bidding the rest withdraw he asked Croesus what 
+fault he saw in what was being done. ‘Since the 
+gods," replied the Lydian, ** have given me to be your 
+slave, it is right that if I have any clearer sight of 
+wrong done 1 should declare it to you. The Persians 
+are violent men by nature, and poor withal; if then 
+you suffer them to seize and hold great possessions, 
+you may expect that he who has won most will rise 
+in revolt against you. Now therefore do this, if 
+what I say finds favour with you. Set men of your 
+guard to watch all the gates; let them take the 
+spoil from those who are carrying it out, and say that 
+it must be paid as tithe to Zeus. Thus shall you not 
+be hated by them for taking their wealth by force, and 
+they for their part will acknowledge that you act 
+justly, and will give up the spoil willingly." 
+
+90. When Cyrus heard this he was exceedingly 
+pleased, for he deemed the counsel good ; and praising 
+him greatly, and bidding his guards to act as Croesus 
+
+115 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+** Kpoice, ἀναρτημένου σεῦ ἀνδρὸς βασιλέος 
+χρηστὰ ἔργα καὶ ἔπεα ποιέειν, αὐτέο δόσιν ij ἥντινα 
+βΒούλεαί τοι γενέσθαι παραυτίκα." ô δὲ εἶπε 
+“"Ὦ δέσποτα, ἐάσας HE χαριεῖ µάλ/ιστα τὸν θεὸν 
+τῶν Ἑλλήνων, τὸν ἐγὼ ἐτίμησα θεῶν μάλιστα, 
+ἐπειρέσθαι πέμψαντα τάσδε τὰς πέδας, εἰ ἐξα- 
+πατᾶν τοὺς εὖ ποιεῦντας νόμος ἐστί οἱ. Κῦρος 
+δὲ εἴρετο ὅ τι οἱ τοῦτο ἐπηγορέων παραιτέοιτο. 
+Κροῖσος δέ οἱ ἐπαλιλλόγησε πᾶσαν τὴν ἑωυτοῦ 
+διάνοιαν καὶ τῶν χρηστηρίων τὰς ὑποκρίσιας καὶ 
+μάλιστα τὰ ava Ἰήματα, καὶ ὡς ἐπαερθεὶς τῷ 
+μαντηίῳ ἐστρατεύσατο ἐπὶ Πέρσας: λέγων δὲ 
+ταῦτα κατέβαινε αὖτις παραιτεὀµενος ἐπεῖναί οἱ 
+τῷ θεῷ τοῦτο ὀνειδίσαι. Κῦρος δὲ γελάσας eime 
+«Καὶ τούτου τεύξεαι παρ ἐμεῦ, Κροῖσε, καὶ 
+ἄλλου παντὸς τοῦ ἂν ἑκάστοτε δέῃ." ὡς δὲ ταῦτα 
+ἤκουσε ὃ Κροῖσος, πέμπων τῶν Λυδῶν ἐ ἐς Δελφοὺς 
+ἐνετέλλετο τιθέντας τὰς πέδας ἐπὶ τοῦ νηοῦ τὸν 
+οὐδὸν , εἰρωτᾶν εἰ οὔ τι ἐπαισχύνεται τοῖσι 
+μαντηίοισι ἐπαείρας Κροῖσον στρατεύεσθαι ἐπὶ 
+Πέρσας ὡς καταπαύσοντα τὴν Κύρου δύναμιν, 
+an ἧς οἱ ἀκροθίνια τοιαῦτα γενέσθαι, δεικνύντας 
+τὰς πέδας" ταῦτα τε ἐπειρωτᾶν, καὶ εἰ ἀχαρισ- 
+τοισι νόμος εἶναι τοῖσι Ἑλληνικοῖσι θεοῖσι. 
+
+91. ᾿Απικομένοισι δὲ τοῖσι Λυδοῖσι καὶ λέγουσι 
+τὰ ἐντεταλμένα την Πυθίην λέγεται εὐπεῖν τάδε. 
+i Τὴν πεπρωμένην μοῖραν ἀδύνατα ἐ ἐστὶ ἀποφυγεῖν 
+καὶ θεῷ Κροῖσος δὲ πέμπτου γονέος ἁμαρτάδα 
+ἐξέπλησε, ὃς ἐὼν δορυφόρος Ἡ ρακλειδέων, δόλῳ 
+γυναικηίῳ ἐπισπόμενος «ἐφόνευσε τὸν δεσπότεα 
+καὶ ἔσχε τὴν ἐκείνου τιμὴν οὐδέν οἱ προσήκουσαν. 
+προθυμεομένου δὲ Λοξίεω ὅκως ἂν κατὰ τοὺς 
+
+
+116 
+
+
+BOOK I. 9o-9: 
+
+
+had counselled, he said: * Croesus,now that you,a king, 
+are resolved to act and to speak aright, ask me now for 
+whatever boon you desire forthwith.” ‘ Master,” said 
+Croesus, “ you will best please me if you suffer me to 
+send these my chains to that god of the Greeks whom 
+I chiefly honoured, and to ask him if it be his custom to 
+deceive those who serve him well." Cyrusthenasking 
+him what charge he brought against the god that he 
+made this request, Croesus repeated to him the tale of 
+all his own intent, and the answers of the oracles, and 
+more especially his offerings, and how it was the oracle 
+that had heartened him to attack the Persians; and so 
+saying he once more instantly entreated that he might 
+be suffered to reproach the god for this. At this Cyrus 
+smiled, and replied, “This I will grant you, Croesus, 
+and what other boon soever you may at any time ask 
+me.” When Croesus heard this, he sent men of 
+the Lydians to Delphi, charging them to lay his 
+chains on the threshold of the temple, and to ask if 
+the god were not ashamed that he had persuaded 
+Croesus to attack the Persians, telling him that he 
+would destroy Cyrus’ power; of which power (they 
+should say, showing the chains) these were the first- 
+fruits. Thus they should inquire; and further, if it 
+were the manner of the Greek gods to be thankless. 
+
+91. When the Lydians came, and spoke as they 
+were charged, the priestess (it is said) thus replied : 
+* None may escape his destined lot, not even a god. 
+Croesus hath paid for the sin of his ancestor of the 
+_ fifth generation: who, being of the guard of the 
+Heraclidae, was led by the guile of a woman to slay 
+his master, and took to himself the royal state of that 
+master, whereto he had no right. And it was the 
+desire of Loxias that the evil hap of Sardis should 
+
+
+117 
+
+
+-- 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+παῖδας τοῦ Κροίσου γένοιτο τὸ Σαρδίων πάθος 
+καὶ μὴ κατ᾿ αὐτὸν Κροῖσον, οὐκ οἷόν τε ἐγίνετο 
+παραγαγεῖν μοίρας. ὅσον δὲ ἐνέδωκαν αὗται, 
+ἤνυσέ τε καὶ ἐ αρίσατόὀ οἱ" τρία γὰρ ἔτεα ἐπανε- 
+βάλετο τὴν Σαρδί ίων ἅλωσιν, καὶ τοῦτο ἐπιστάσθω 
+Κροῖσος ὡς ὕστερον τοῖσι ἔτεσι τούτοισι ἁλοὺς 
+τῆς πεπρωμένης. δεύτερα δὲ τούτων καιομένῳ 
+αὐτῷ ἐπήρκεσε. κατὰ δὲ τὸ μαντήιον τὸ γενόμενον 
+οὐκ ὀρθῶς Κροῖσος μέμφεται. προηγόρευε γὰρ οἱ 
+Λοξίης, ἦν στρατεύηται ἐπὶ Πέρσας, μεγάλην 
+ἀρχὴν αὐτὸν καταλύσειν. τὸν δὲ πρὸς ταῦτα 
+χρῆν εὖ μέλλοντα βουλεύεσθαι ἐπειρέσθαι πέμ- 
+ψαντα κότερα τὴν ἑωυτοῦ. ἢ τὴν Κύρου λέγοι 
+ἀρχήν. ov συλλαβὼν δὲ τὸ ῥηθὲν οὐδ᾽ ἐπανειρό- 
+μενος ἑωυτὸν αἴτιον ἀποφαινέτω" τῷ καὶ τὸ 
+τελευταῖον χρηστηριαξομένῳ εἶπε .Λοξίης περὶ 
+ἡμιόνου, οὐδὲ τοῦτο συνέλαβε. ἦν γὰρ δὴ ὁ Κῦρος 
+οὗτος ἡμίονος". ἐκ γὰρ δυῶν οὐκ ὁμοεθνέων ἐγε- 
+γόνεε, μητρὸς ἀμεένονος, πατρὸς δὲ ὑποδεεστέρου' 
+f) μὲν γὰρ ἦν Μηδὶς καὶ ᾿Αστυάγεος θυγάτηρ τοῦ 
+Μήδων βασιλέος, ὃ δὲ Πέρσης τε ἦν καὶ ἀρχό- 
+μενος ὑπ᾽ ἐκείνοισι καὶ ἔνερθε ἐὼν τοῖσι ἅπασι 
+δεσποίνῃ τῇ ἑωυτοῦ συνοίκεε.” ταῦτα μὲν ἡ 
+Πυθίη ὑπεκρίνατο. τοῖσι Λυδοῖσι, οἳ δὲ ἀνήνει- 
+καν ἐς Σάρδις καὶ ἀπήγγειλαν Κροίσῳ. ὃ δὲ 
+ἀκούσας συνέγνω ἑωυτοῦ εἶναι τὴν ἁμαρτάδα 
+καὶ οὐ τοῦ θεοῦ. κατὰ μὲν δὴ τὴν Κροίσου 
+τε ἀρχὴν καὶ Ἰωνίης τὴν πρώτην καταστροφὴν 
+ἔσχε οὕτω. 
+
+92. Κροίσῳ δὲ ἐστὶ ἄλλα ἀναθήματα ἐν τῇ 
+
+
+: Ἑλλάδι πολλὰ καὶ οὐ τὰ εἰρημένα μοῦνα. ἐν μὲν 
+
+
+BOOK I. 91-92 
+
+
+fall in the lifetime of Croesus’ sons, not his own, 
+but he could not turn the Fates from their pur- 
+pose; yet did he accomplish his wil and favour 
+Croesus in so far as they would yield to him: for he 
+delayed the taking of Sardis for three years, and 
+this let Croesus know, that though he be now taken 
+it is by so many years later than the destined hour. 
+And further, Loxias saved Croesus from the burn- 
+ing. But as to the oracle that was given him, 
+Croesus doth not right to complain concerning it. 
+For Loxias declared to him that if he should lead an 
+army against the Persians he would destroy a great 
+empire. Therefore it behoved him, if he would take 
+right counsel, to send and ask whether the god spoke 
+of Croesus’ or of Cyrus’ empire. But he understood 
+not that which was spoken, nor made further inquiry : 
+wherefore now let him blame himself. Nay, when he 
+asked that last question of the oracle and Loxias gave 
+him that answer concerning the mule, even that 
+Croesus understood not. For that mule was in truth 
+Cyrus ; who was the son of two persons not of the same 
+nation, of whom the mother was the nobler and the 
+father of lesser estate ; for she was a Median, daughter 
+of Astyages king of the Medians: but he was a 
+Persian and under the rule of the Medians, and was 
+wedded, albeit in all regards lower than she, to one 
+that should be his sovereign lady.” Such was the 
+answer of the priestess to the Lydians; they carried 
+it to Sardis and told it to Croesus; and when he 
+heard it, he confessed that the sin was not the god's, 
+but his own. And this is the story of Croesus’ rule, 
+and of the first overthrow of Ionia. 
+
+92. Now there are many offerings of Croesus in 
+Hellas, and not only those whereof I have spoken. 
+
+
+119 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+yàp Θήβῃσι τῇσι Ἰδοιωτῶν τρίπους χρύσεος, τὸν 
+ἀνέθηκε τῷ ᾿Απόλλωνι τῷ Ἰσμηνίῳ, ἐν δὲ ᾿Εφέσῳ 
+αἵ τε βόες αἱ ρύσεαι καὶ τῶν κιόνων αἱ πολλαί, 
+ἐν δὲ Προνηίης τῆς ἐν Δελφοῖσι ἀσπὶς χρυσέη 
+μεγάλη. ταῦτα μὲν καὶ ἔτι ἐς ἐμὲ ἦν περιεόντα, 
+τὰ Ò ἐξαπόλωλε τῶν ἀναθημάτων" τὰ ὃ ἐν 
+Βραγχίδησι τῇσι Μιλησίων ἀναθήματα Κροίσῳ, 
+ὡς ἐγὼ πυνθάνομαι, ἴσα τε σταθμὸν καὶ ὅμοια 
+τοῖσι ἐν Δελφοῖσι; <.. © TQ μέν νυν ἔς τε Δελφοὺς 
+καὶ ἐς τοῦ ᾿Αμϕιάρεω. ἀνέθηκε οἰκήιώ τε ἐόντα καὶ 
+τῶν πατρωίων χρημάτων ἀπαρχήν' τὰ δὲ ἄλλα 
+ἀναθήματα ἐξ ἀνδρὸς é ἐγένετο οὐσίης ἐχθροῦ, ὅς οἱ 
+πρὶν ἢ βασιλεῦσαι ἀντιστασιώτης κατεστήκεε, 
+συσπεύδων Πανταλέοντι γενέσθαι τὴν Λυδῶν 
+ἆ ρχή». ὁ δὲ Πανταλέων ἦν ᾿Αλυάττεω μὲν παῖς, 
+Κροίσου δὲ ἀδελφεὸς οὐκ ὁμομήτριος Κροῖσος 
+μὲν γὰρ ἐκ Καείρης ἦν γυναικὸς ᾿Αλυάττῃ, 
+Πανταλέων δὲ ἐξ Ἰάδος. ἐπείτε δὲ δόντος τοῦ 
+πατρὸς ἐκράτησε τῆς ἀρχῆς ὁ Κροῖσος, τὸν 
+ἄνθρωπον τὸν ἀντιπρήσσοντα ἐπὶ κνάφου ἕλκων 
+διέφθειρε, τὴν δὲ οὐσίην αὐτοῦ ἔτι πρότερον 
+κατιρώσας τότε τρόπῳ τῷ εἰρημένῳ ἀνέθηκε ἐς 
+τὰ εἴρηται. καὶ περὶ μὲν ἀναθημάτων τοσαῦτα 
+εἰρήσθω. 
+
+93. Θώματα δὲ γῆ ἡ Λυδίη ἐς συγγραφὴν οὐ 
+para ἔχει, οἷά τε καὶ ἄλλη χώρη, πάρεξ τοῦ ἐκ 
+τοῦ Τμώλου καταφερομένου. ψήγµατος. ἓν δὲ 
+ἔργον πολλὸν μέγιστον παρέχεται χωρὶς τῶν τε 
+Αἰγυπτίων ἔργων καὶ τῶν Βαβυλωνίων" ἔστι 
+αὐτόθι ᾽Αλυάττεω τοῦ Κροίσου πατρὸς σῆμα, τοῦ 
+
+
+1 The sentence is incomplete, lacking a predicate. 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+BOOK I. 92-93 
+
+
+There is a golden tripod at Thebes in Boeotia, which 
+he dedicated to Apollo of Ismenus; at Ephesus! 
+there are the oxen of gold and the greater part of the 
+pillars; and in the temple of Proneia at Delphi, 
+a golden shield.? All these yet remained till my 
+lifetime; but some other of the offerings have 
+perished. And the offerings of Croesus at Branchidae 
+of the Milesians, as I have heard, are equal in 
+weight and like to those at Delphi. Those which he 
+dedicated at Delphi and the shrine of Amphiaraus 
+were his own, the firstfruits of the wealth in- 
+herited from his father; the rest came from the 
+estate of an enemy who had headed a faction against 
+Croesus before he became king, and conspired to 
+win the throne of Lydia for Pantaleon. This Pan- 
+taleon was a son of Alyattes, and half-brother of 
+Croesus: Croesus was Alyattes' son by a Carian and 
+Pantaleon by an Ionian mother. So when Croesus 
+gained the sovereignty by his father's gift, he put the 
+man who had conspired against him to death by draw- 
+ing him across a carding-comb, and first confiscated 
+his estate, then dedicated it as and where I have said. 
+This is all that I shall say of Croesus' offerings. 
+
+93. There are not in Lydia many marvellous 
+things for me to tell of, if it be compared with 
+other countries, except the gold dust that comes 
+down from Tmolus. But there is one building to be 
+seen there which is more notable than any, saving 
+those of Egypt and Babylon. There is in Lydia the 
+tomb of Alyattes the father of Croesus, the base 
+
+
+1 The temple at Ephesus was founded probably in Alyattes’ 
+reign, and not completed till the period of the Graeco-Persian 
+
+ar. 
+
+2 The temple of Athene Proneia (== before the shrine) was 
+situated outside the temple of Apollo. 
+
+
+121 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἡ κρηπὶς μὲν ἐστὶ λίθων μεγάλων, τὸ δὲ ἄλλο 
+σῆμα χῶμα γῆς. ἐξεργάσαντο δέ μιν οἱ ἀγοραῖοι 
+ἄνθρωποι καὶ οἱ χειρώνακτες καὶ αἱ ἐνεργαζόμεναι 
+παιδίσκαι. οὗροι δὲ πέντε ἐόντες ἔτι καὶ ἐς ἐμὲ 
+ἦσαν ἐπὶ τοῦ σήματος ἄνω, καί σφι γράμματα 
+ἐνεκεκόλαπτο τὰ ἕκαστοι ἐξεργάσαντο, καὶ ἐφαί- 
+νετο μετρεόμενον τὸ τῶν παιδιφκέων ἔργον ἐὸν 
+μέγιστον. τοῦ γὰρ δὴ Λυδῶν δήμου αἱ θυγατέρες 
+πορνεύονται πᾶσαι, συλλέγουσαι σφίσι φερνάς, 
+ἐς ὃ ἂν συνοικήσωσι τοῦτο ποιέουσαι’ ἐκδιδοῦσ, 
+δὲ αὐταὶ ἑωυτάς. ἡ μὲν δὴ περίοδος τοῦ σήματος 
+εἰσὶ στάδιοι ἓξ καὶ δύο πλέθρα, τὸ δὲ εὖρος ἐστὶ 
+πλέθρα τρία καὶ δέκα. λίμνη δὲ ἔχεται τοῦ 
+σήματος μεγάλη, τὴν λέγουσι Λυδοὶ ἀείναον εἶναι" 
+καλέεται δὲ αὕτη Γυγαίη. τοῦτο μὲν δὴ τοιοῦτο 
+ἐστί. 
+
+94, Λυδοὶ δὲ νόμοισι μὲν παραπλησίοισι χρέ- 
+ωνται καὶ "Ελληνες, χωρὶς ἢ ὅτι τὰ θήλεα τέκνα 
+καταπορνεύουσι, πρῶτοι δὲ ἀνθρώπων τῶν ἡμεῖς 
+ἴδμεν νόµισµα χρυσοῦ καὶ ἀργύρου κοψάμενοι 
+ἐχρήσαντο, πρῶτοι δὲ καὶ κάπηλοι ἐγένοντο. 
+φασὶ δὲ αὐτοὶ Λυδοὶ καὶ τὰς παιγνίας τὰς νῦν 
+
+
+σφίσι τε καὶ "Ελλησι κατεστεώσας ἑωυτῶν ἐξεύ-. 
+
+
+ρήμα γενέσθαι" ἅμα δὲ ταύτας τε ἐξευρεθῆναι 
+παρὰ σφίσι λέγουσι καὶ Τυρσηνίην ἀποικίσαι, 
+ὧδε περὶ αὐτῶν λέγοντες. ἐπὶ " Arvos τοῦ Μάνεω 
+βασιλέος σιτοδείην ἰσχυρὴν ἀνὰ τὴν Λυδίην 
+πᾶσαν γενέσθαι, καὶ τοὺς Λυδοὺς τέως μὲν διάγειν 
+λιπαρέοντας, μετὰ δὲ ὡς οὐ παύεσθαι, ἄκεα δίζη- 
+σθαι, ἄλλον δὲ ἄλλο ἐπιμηχανᾶσθαι αὐτῶν. 
+ἐξευρεθῆναι δὴ ὧν τότε καὶ τῶν κύβων καὶ τῶν 
+ἀστραγάλων καὶ τῆς σφαίρης καὶ τῶν ἀλλέων 
+122 
+
+
+BOOK I. 93-94 
+
+
+whereof is made of great stones and the rest of it of 
+mounded earth. It was built by the men of the mar- 
+ket and the artificers and the prostitutes. There 
+remained till my time five corner-stones set on the 
+top of the tomb, and on these was graven the record 
+of the work done by each kind: and measurement 
+showed that the prostitutes' share of the work was 
+the greatest. All the daughters of the common 
+people of Lydia ply the trade of prostitutes, to 
+collect dowries, till they can get themselves hus- 
+bands; and they offer themselves in marriage. 
+Now this tomb has a circumference of six furlongs 
+and a third, and its breadth is above two fur- 
+longs; and there is a great lake hard by the tomb, 
+which, say the Lydians, is fed by ever-flowing 
+springs; it is called the Gygaean lake. Such then 
+is this tomb. 
+
+94. The customs of the Lydians are like those of 
+the Greeks, save that they make prostitutes of their 
+female children. They were the first men (known to 
+us) who coined and used gold and silver currency ; 
+and they were the first to sell by retail. And, accord- 
+ing to what they themselves say, the pastimes now in 
+use among them and the Greeks were invented by the 
+Lydians: these, they say, were invented among them 
+at the time when they colonised Tyrrhenia. This is 
+their story : In the reign of Atys son of Manes there 
+was great scarcity of food in all Lydia. For a while 
+the Lydians bore this with what patience they could ; 
+presently, when there was no abatement of the 
+famine, they sought for remedies, and divers plans 
+were devised by divers men. Then it wasthat they 
+invented the games of dice and knuckle-bones and 
+
+
+123 
+
+
+EF X Ῥ Ἢ 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+πασέων παιγνιέων τὰ εἴδεα, πλὴν πεσσῶν' τούτων 
+γὰρ. ὧν τὴν ἐξεύρεσιν οὐκ οἰκηιοῦνται Λυδοί. 
+ποιέειν δὲ ὧδε πρὸς τὸν λιμὸν ἐξευρόντας, τὴν μὲν 
+ἑτέρην τῶν ἡμερέων παίξειν πᾶσαν, ἵνα δὴ μὴ 
+ζητέοιεν outta, τὴν δὲ é ἑτέρην σιτέεσθαι παυοµένους 
+τῶν παιγνιέων. | τοιούτῳ τρόπῳ διάγειν ἐπ᾽ ἔτεα 
+δυῶν δέοντα εἴκοσι. ἐπείτε δὲ οὐκ ἀνιέναι τὸ 
+κακὸν ἀλλ ἔτι ἐπὶ μᾶλλον, βΒιάζεσθαι, «οὕτω δὴ 
+τὸν βασιλέα αὐτῶν δύο μοίρας διελόντα Λυδῶν 
+πάντων κληρῶσαι τὴν μὲν ἐπὶ μόνῃ τὴν δὲ, ἐπὶ 
+ἐξόδῳ ἐκ τῆς χώρης, καὶ ἐπὶ μὲν. τῇ μένειν αὐτοῦ 
+λαγχανούσῃ τῶν μοιρέων ἑωυτὸν τὸν βασιλέα 
+προστάσσειν, ἐπὶ δὲ τῇ ἀπαλλασσομένῃ τὸν ἑωυ- 
+τοῦ παῖδα, τῷ οὔνομα εἶναι Τυρσηνόν. .λαχόντας 
+δὲ αὐτῶν τοὺς ἑτέρους ἐξιέναι ἐκ τῆς χώρης κατα- 
+βῆναι ἐς Σμύρνην καὶ μηχανήσασθαι πλοῖα, ἐ ἐς τὰ 
+ἐσθεμένους τὰ πάντα, ὅσα σφι ἦν χρηστὰ ἐπί- 
+πλοα, ἀποπλέειν κατὰ βίου τε καὶ γῆς ἑήτησιν, 
+ἐς ὃ ἔθνεα πολλὰ παραμειψαμένους ἀπικέσθαι ἐ ἐς 
+Ὀμβρικούς, ἔνθα σφέας ἐνιδρύσασθαι πόλιας καὶ 
+οἰκέειν τὸ μέχρι τοῦδε. ἀντὶ δὲ Λυδῶν μετονο- 
+μασθῆναι. αὐτοὺς ἐπὶ τοῦ βασιλέος τοῦ παιδός, ὅ ὃς 
+σφεας ἀνήγαγε, ἐπὶ τούτου τὴν ἐπωνυμίην ποιευ- 
+μένους ὀνομασθῆναι Τυρσηνούς. 
+
+Av6ol μὲν δὴ ὑπὸ Πέρσῃσι ἐδεδούλωντο. 
+
+95. ᾿Επιδίξηται δὲ δὴ, τὸ ἐνθεῦτεν ἡμῖν ὁ λόγος 
+τόν τε Κῦρον ὅστις ἐὼν τὴν Κροίσου | ἀρχὴν 
+κατεῖλε, καὶ τοὺς Πέρσας 6 ὅτεῳ τρόπῳ ἡγήσαντο 
+τῆς ᾿Ασίης. ὡς ὧν Περσέων μετεξέτεροι λέγουσι, 
+οἱ μὴ ,Βουλόμενοι σεμνοῦν τὰ περὶ Kópov ἀλλὰ 
+τὸν ἐόντα λέγειν λόγον, κατὰ ταῦτα γράψω, 
+
+
+124 
+
+
+BOOK I. 94-95 
+
+
+ball, and all other forms of pastime except only 
+draughts, which the Lydians do not claim to have 
+discovered. Then, using their discovery to lighten 
+the famine, they would play for the whole of every 
+other day, that they might not have to seek for food, 
+and the next day they ceased from their play and ate. 
+This was their manner of life for eighteen years. 
+But the famine did not cease to plague them, and 
+rather afflicted them yet more grievously. At last 
+their king divided the people into two portions, and 
+made them draw lots, so that the one part should 
+remain and the other leave the country; he himself 
+was to be the head of those who drew the lot to re- 
+main there, and his son, whose name was Tyrrhenus, 
+of those who departed. Then one part of them, 
+having drawn the lot, left the country and came down 
+to Smyrna and built ships, whereon they set all their 
+goods that could be carried on shipboard, and sailed 
+away to seek a livelihood and a country; till at last, 
+after sojourning with many nations in turn, they came 
+to the Ombrici,! where they founded cities and have 
+dwelt ever since. They no longer called themselves 
+Lydians, but Tyrrhenians, after the name of the 
+king's son who had led them thither. 
+
+The Lydians, then, were enslaved by the 
+Persians. 
+
+95. But it is next the business of my history to 
+inquire who this Cyrus was who brought down the 
+power of Croesus, and how the Persians came to be 
+rulers of Asia. I mean then to be guided in what 
+I write by some of the Persians who desire not to 
+make a fine tale of the story of Cyrus but to tell 
+
+
+! In northern and central Italy; the Umbria of Roman 
+history perpetuates the name. 
+
+
+à 125 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐπιστάμενος περὶ Κύρου καὶ τριφασίας ἄλλας 
+λόγων ὁδοὺς φῆναι. 
+
+᾿Ασσυρίων ἀρχόντων τῆς ἄνω ᾿Ασίης én’ ἔτεα 
+εἴκοσι καὶ πεντακόσια, πρῶτοι an’ αὐτῶν M$- 
+oL ἤρξαντο ἀπίστασθαι, καί KOŞ οὗτοι περὶ 
+τῆς ἐλευθερίης μαχεσάμενοι τοῖσι ᾿Ασσυρίοισι 
+ἐγένοντο ἄνδρες ἀγαθοί, καὶ ἀπωσάμενοι τὴν 
+δουλοσύνην ἐλευθερώθησαν. μετὰ δὲ τούτους καὶ 
+τὰ ἄλλα ἔθνεα ἐποίεε τὠυτὸ τοῖσι Μήδοισι. 
+
+96. ᾿Εόντων δὲ αὐτονόμων πάντων ἀνὰ τὴν 
+ἤπειρον, ὧδε αὖτις ἐς τυραννίδα περιῆλθον. ἀνὴρ 
+ἐν τοῖσι Μήδοισι ἐγένετο σοφὸς. τῷ οὔνομα ἦν 
+Δηιόκης, παῖς ὃ ἦν Φραόρτεω. οὗτος ὁ Δηιόκης 
+ἐρασθεὶς τυραννίδος ἐ ἐποίεε τοιάδε. κατοικημένων 
+τῶν Μήδων κατὰ κώμας, ἐν τῇ ἑωυτοῦ ἐὼν καὶ 
+πρότερον δόκιμος καὶ μᾶλλόν τι καὶ προθυμότερον 
+δικαιοσύνην ἐπιθέμενος ἥσκεε" καὶ ταῦτα μέντοι 
+ἐούσης ἀνομίης πολλῆς ἀνὰ πᾶσαν τὴν Μηδικὴν 
+ἐποίεε, ἐπιστάμενος ὅτι τῷ δικαίῳ τὸ ἄδικον πολέ- 
+μιον ἐστί. οἱ δ' ἐκ τῆς αὐτῆς κώμης Μήδοι 
+ὁρῶντες αὐτοῦ τοὺς τρόπους δικαστήν μιν ἑωυτῶν 
+αἱρέοντο. ὃ δὲ δή, οἷα μνώμενος ἀρχήν, ἰθύς τε 
+καὶ δίκαιος ἦν, ποιέων τε ταῦτα ἔπαινον εἶχε οὐκ 
+ὀλίγον πρὸς τῶν πολιητέων, οὕτω ὥστε πυνθανό- 
+μενοι οἱ ἐν τῇσι ἄλλῃσι κώμῃσι ὡς Δηιόκης εἴη 
+ἀνὴρ μοῦνος κατὰ τὸ ὀρθὸν δικάξων, πρότερον 
+περιπίπτοντες ἀδίκοισι γνώμῃσι, τότε ἐπεύτε 
+ἤκουσαν ἄσμενοι ἐφοίτων. παρὰ τὸν Δηιόκεα 
+καὶ αὐτοὶ δικασόμενοι, τέλος δὲ οὐδενὶ ἄλλῳ 
+ἐπετράποντο. 
+
+97. Πλεῦνος δὲ αἰεὶ γινομένου τοῦ ἐπιφοιτέ- 
+οντος, οἷα πυνθανομένων τὰς δίκας ἀποβαίνειν 
+
+
+126 
+
+
+BOOK l. 95-97 
+
+
+the truth, though there are no less than three other 
+accounts of Cyrus which I could give. 
+
+When the Assyrians had ruled Upper Asia for five 
+hundred and twenty years! their subjects began to 
+revolt from them: first of all, the Medes. These, it 
+would seem, proved their valour in fighting forfreedom 
+againstthe Assyrians; they cast off their slavery and 
+won freedom. Afterwards the other subject nations 
+too did the sare as the Medes. 
+
+96. All of thos the mainland were now free 
+men ; but they came onée~mgre to be ruled by mon- 
+archs as I will now relate. was among the 
+Medians a clever man called Deioces : Ire.was the son 
+of Phraortes. Deioces was enamoured of sovereignty, 
+and thus he set about gaining it. Being already a 
+notable man in his own township (one of the man 
+townships into which Media was parcelled), he began 
+to profess and practise justice more constantly and 
+zealously than ever, and this he did although there 
+was much lawlessness in all the land of Media, and 
+though he knew that injustice is ever the foe of jus- 
+tice. Then the Medes of the same township, seeing 
+his dealings, chose him to be their judge, and he (for 
+he coveted sovereign power) was honest and just. 
+By so acting he won no small praise from his fellow 
+townsmen, insomuch that when the men of the 
+other townships learned that Deioces alone gave 
+righteous judgments (they having before suffered 
+from unjust decisions) they, then, on hearing this, 
+came often and gladly to plead before Deioces; and 
+at last they would submit to no arbitrament but his. 
+
+97. The number of those who came grew ever 
+greater, for they heard that each case ended as 
+
+
+1 From 1229 to 709 5.0., as Deioces’ reign began in 709. 
+127 
+
+
+ἓν 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+κατὰ τὸ ἐόν, γνοὺς ὁ Δηιόκης ἐς ἑωυτὸν πᾶν 
+ἀνακείμενον οὔτε κατίξειν ἔτι ἤθελε ἔνθα περ 
+πρότερον προκατίξων ἐδίκαξε, οὔτ᾽ ἔφη δικᾶν ἔτι" 
+οὐ γάρ οἱ λυσιτελέειν τῶν ἑωυτοῦ ἐξημεληκότα 
+τοῖσι πέλας δι ἡμέρης δικάζειν. ἐούσης ὧν 
+ἁρπαγῆς καὶ ἀνομίης. ἔτι πολλῷ μᾶλλον, ἀνὰ τὰς 
+κώμας ἦ πρότερον ἦν, συνελέχθησαν οἱ Μῆδοι 
+és τὠυτὸ καὶ ἐδίδοσαν σφίσι λόγον, λέγοντες περὶ 
+τῶν κατηκόντων. ὡς δ᾽ ἐγὼ δοκέω, μάλιστα 
+ἔλεγον οἱ τοῦ Δηιόκεω φίλοι “Οὐ γὰρ δὴ τρόπῳ 
+τῷ παρεόντι χρεώμενοι δυνατοὶ εἰμὲν οἰκέειν τὴν 
+χώρην, φέρε στήσωμεν ἡμέων αὐτῶν βασιλέα" 
+καὶ οὕτω ἤ τε χώρη εὐνομήσεται καὶ αὐτοὶ πρὸς 
+ἔργα τρεψόμεθα, οὐδὲ UT ἀνομίης ἀνάστατοι 
+ἐσόμεθα.᾽ ταῦτά κῃ λέγοντες πείθουσι ἑωυτοὺς 
+βασιλεύεσθαι. 
+
+Αὐτίκα δὲ προβαλλομένων ὄντινα στή- 
+σονται βασιλέα, ὁ Δηιόκης ἦν πολλὸς ὑπὸ παντὸς 
+ἀνδρὸς καὶ προβαλλόμενος καὶ αἰνεόμενος, ἐς ὃ 
+τοῦτον καταινέουσι βασιλέα σφίσι εἶναι. ὃ δ᾽ 
+ἐκέλευε αὐτοὺς οἰκία τε ἑωυτῷ ἄξια τ Βασιληΐης 
+οἰκοδομῆσαι καὶ κρατῦναι αὐτὸν δορυφόροισι" 
+ποιεῦσι δὴ ταῦτα οἱ Μῆδοι" οἰκοδομέουσί τε γὰρ 
+αὐτῷ οἰκία μεγάλα τε καὶ ἰσχυρά, ἵνα αὐτὸς 
+ἔφρασε τῆς χώρης, καὶ δορυφόρους αὐτῷ ἐπι- 
+τράπουσι ἐκ πάντων Μήδων καταλέξασθαι. ὃ 
+δὲ ὡς ἔσχε τὴν ἀρχήν, τοὺς Μήδους ἠνάγκασε 
+ἓν ᾿πόλισμα ποιήσασθαι καὶ τοῦτο περιστέλλοντας 
+τῶν ἄλλων ἧσσον ἐπιμέλεσθαι. πειθομένων δὲ 
+καὶ ταῦτα τῶν Μήδων οἰκοδομέει τείχεα μεγάλα 
+τε καὶ καρτερὰ, ταῦτα τὰ νῦν ᾿Αγβάτανα κέ- 
+κληται, ἕτερον ἑτέρῳ κύκλῳ ἐνεστεῶτα. peN- 
+
+
+128 
+
+
+BOOK I. 97-98 
+
+
+accorded with the truth. Then Deioces, seeing that all 
+was now entrusted to him, would not sit in his former 
+seat of judgment, and said he would give no more 
+decisions; for it was of no advantage to him (he said) 
+to leave his own business and spend all the day 
+judging the cases of his neighbours. This caused 
+robbery and lawlessness to increase greatly in the 
+townships; and the Medes gathering together con- 
+ferred about their present affairs, and said (here, as I 
+suppose, the chief speakers were Deioces' friends), 
+* Since we cannot with our present manner of life 
+dwell peacefully in the country, come, let us set up 
+a king for ourselves; thus will the country be weli 
+governed, and we ourselves shall betake ourselves 
+to our business, and cease to be undone by lawless- 
+ness" By such words they persuaded themselves 
+to be ruled by a king. 
+
+98. Thequestion was forthwith propounded: Whom 
+should they make king? Then every man was loud 
+in putting Deioces forward and praising Deioces, till 
+they agreed that he should be their king. He bade 
+them build him houses worthy of his royal power, 
+and arm him with a bodyguard : the Medes did so; 
+they built him great and strong houses at what places 
+soever in the country he showed them, and suffered 
+him to choose a bodyguard out of all their people. 
+But having obtained the power, he constrained the 
+Medes to make him one stronghold and to fortify 
+this more strongly than all the rest. This too the 
+Medes did for him: so he built the great and mighty 
+circles of walls within walls which are now called 
+Agbatana.! This fortress is so planned that each 
+
+
+1 Modern Hamadán, probably : but see Rawlinson’s note. 
+129 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+χάνηται δὲ οὕτω τοῦτο τὸ τεῖχος ὥστε ὁ ἕτερος 
+τοῦ ἑτέρου κύκλος τοῖσι προμαχεῶσι μούνοισι 
+ἐστι ὑψηλότερος. τὸ μέν κού τι καὶ τὸ «Χωρίον 
+συμμαχέει κολωνὸς ἐὼν ὥστε τοιοῦτο εἶναι, τὸ 
+δὲ καὶ μᾶλλόν τί ἐπετηδεύθη. κύκλων δ᾽ ἐόντων 
+τῶν συναπάντων ἑπτά, ἐν δὴ τῷ τελευταίῳ τὰ 
+βασιλήια ἔνεστι καὶ οἱ θησαυροί. τὸ δ᾽ αὐτῶν 
+μέγιστον ἐστὶ τεῖχος κατὰ τὸν ᾿Αθηνέων κύκλον 
+μάλιστά. κῃ τὸ μέγαθος. τοῦ μὲν δὴ πρώτου 
+κύκλου οἱ προμαχεῶνες εἰσὶ λευκοί, τοῦ δὲ δευτέ- 
+ρου μέλανες, τρίτου δὲ κύκλου φοινίκεοι, τετάρτου 
+δὲ κυάνεοι, πέμπτου δὲ σανδαράκινοι. οὕτω τῶν 
+πέντε κύκλων οἱ προμαχεῶνες ἠνθισ μένοι εἰσὶ 
+φαρμάκοισι" δύο δὲ οἱ τελευταῖοι εἰσὶ ὃ .μὲν 
+καταργυρωμένους ὃ δὲ κατακεχρυσωμένους ἔχων 
+τοὺς προμαχεῶνας. 
+
+99. Ταῦτα μὲν δὴ ὁ Δηιόκης é ἑωυτῷ τε ἐτείχεε 
+καὶ περὶ τὰ ἑωυτοῦ οἰκία, τὸν δὲ ἄλλον δῆμον 
+πέριξ. ἐκέλευε τὸ τεῖχος οἰκέειν. οἰκοδομηθέντων 
+δὲ πάντων κόσμον τόνδε Δηιόκης πρῶτος ἐστὶ 
+ὁ καταστησάμενος, μήτε ἐσιέναι παρὰ βασιλέα 
+
+μηδένα, bv ἀγγέλων δὲ πάντα χρᾶσθαι, ὁρᾶσθαι 
+τε βασιλέα ὑπὸ μηδενός, πρός τε τούτοισι ἔτι 
+γελᾶν τε καὶ ἀντίον πτύειν καὶ ἅπασι εἶναι τοῦτό 
+ye αἰσχρόν. ταῦτα δὲ περὶ ἑωυτὸν ἐσέμνυνε 
+τῶνδε εἵνεκεν, ὅκως ἂν μὴ ὁρῶντες οἱ ὁμήλικες, 
+ἐόντες σύντροφοί τε ἐκείνῳ καὶ οἰκίης οὐ Φλαυρο- 
+τέρης οὐδὲ ἐς ἀνδραγαθίην λειπόμενοι, λυπεσίατο 
+καὶ ἐπιβουλεύοιεν, ἀλλ) ἑτεροῖός σφι δοκέοι εἶναι 
+μὴ ὁρῶσι. 
+
+100. ᾿Επείτε δὲ ταῦτα διεκόσµησε καὶ ἐκρά- 
+τυνε ἑωυτὸν τῇ τυραννίδι, ἦν τὸ δίκαιον φυλάσσων 
+
+
+130 
+
+
+BOOK I. g8—100 
+
+
+circle of walls is higher than the next outer circle by 
+no more than the height of its battlements; to which 
+end the site itself, being on a hill in the plain, some- 
+what helps, but chiefly it was accomplished by art. 
+There are seven circles in all; within the innermost 
+circle are the king's dwellings and the treasuries; 
+and the longest wall is about the length of the wall 
+that surrounds the city of Athens.! The battlements 
+of the first circle are white, of the second black, of 
+the third circle purple, of the fourth blue, and of 
+the fifth orange : thus the battlements of five circles 
+are painted with colours ; and the battlements of the 
+last two circles are coated, these with silver and those 
+with gold. 
+
+99. Deioces built these walls for himself and around 
+his own palace; the people were to dwell without the 
+wall. And when all was built, it was Deioces first who 
+established the rule that no one should come into the 
+presence of the king, but all should be dealt with by 
+the means of messengers; that the king should be 
+seen by no man ; and moreover that it should be in 
+particular a disgrace for any to laugh or to spit in his 
+presence. He was careful to hedge himself with all 
+this state in order that the men of his own age (who 
+had been bred up with him and were as nobly born as 
+he and his equals in manly excellence), instead of 
+seeing him and being thereby vexed and haply 
+moved to plot against him, might by reason of not 
+seeing him deem him to be changed from what he 
+had been.? 
+
+100. Having ordered all these matters and strongly 
+armed himself with sovereign power, he was a hard 
+
+1 About eight miles, according to a scholiast's note 
+
+
+on Thucyd. ii. 13; but this is disputed. 
+2 Or, perhaps, different from themselves. 
+
+
+13! 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+χαλεπός: καὶ τάς τε δίκας γράφοντες ἔσω παρ᾽ 
+ἐκεῖνον ἐσπέμπεσκον, καὶ ἐκεῖνος διακρίνων τὰς 
+ἐσφερομένας ἐκπέμπεσκε. ταῦτα μὲν κατὰ τὰς 
+δίκας ἐποίεε, τάδε δὲ ἄλλα ἐκεκοσμέατό οἱ" εἴ 
+τινα πυνθάνοιτο ὑβρίζοντα, τοῦτον ὅκως µετα- 
+πέμψαιτο κατ EE ἑκάστου ἀδικήματος ἐδικαίευ, 
+καί οἱ κατάσκοποΐ τε καὶ κατήκοοι ἦσαν ἀνὰ 
+πᾶσαν τὴν χώρην, τῆς ἦρχε. 
+
+101. Δηιόκης μέν νυν τὸ Μηδικὸν ἔθνος συνέ- 
+στρεψε μοῦνον καὶ τούτον ἦρξε' ἔστι δὲ Μήδων 
+τοσάδε γένεα, Βοῦσαι Ἡαρητακηνοὶ Στρούχατες 
+᾿Αριξαντοὶ Βούδιοι Μάγοι. γένεα μὲν δὴ Μήδων 
+ἐστὶ τοσάδε. 
+
+102. Δηιόκεω δὲ παῖς γίνεται Φραόρτης, ὃς 
+τελευτήσαντος Δηιόκεω, βασιλεύσαντος, τρία καὶ 
+πεντήκοντα ἔτεα, παρεδέξατο τὴν ἀρχήν, παρα- 
+δεξάμενος δὲ οὐκ | ἀπεχρᾶτο μούνων Μήδων ἆ ἄρχειν, 
+ἀλλὰ στρατευσάμενος ἐπὶ τοὺς Πέρσας πρώτοισί 
+τε τούτοισι ἐπεθήκατο καὶ πρώτους Μήδων à ὑπη- 
+κόους ἐποίησε. μετὰ δὲ ἔχων δύο ταῦτα ἔθνεα 
+καὶ ἀμφότερα ἰσχυρά, κατεστρέφετο τὴν ᾿Ασίην 
+ἀπ᾽ ἄλλου ἐπ᾿ ἄλλο ἰὼν ἔθνος, ἐς ὃ στρατευσά- 
+μενος. ἐπὶ τοὺς ᾿Ασσυρίους καὶ ᾿Ασσυρίων τούτους 
+οἳ Νίνον εἶχον καὶ ἦρχον πρότερον πάντων, τότε 
+δὲ ἦσαν μεμουνωμένοι μὲν συμμάχων ἅτε an- 
+εστεώτων, ἄλλως μέντοι ἑωυτῶν εὖ ἥκοντες, ἐπὶ 
+τούτους δὴ, στρατευσάμενος ὁ Φραόρτης, αὐτός τε 
+διεφθάρη, ἄρξας δύο καὶ εἴκοσι ἔτεα, καὶ ὁ στρατὸς 
+αὐτοῦ ὁ πολλός. 
+
+103. Φραόρτεω δὲ τελευτήσαντος ἐξεδέξατο 
+Κυαξάρης ô Φραόρτεω τοῦ Δηιόκεω παῖς. οὗτος 
+λέγεται πολλὸν ἔτι γενέσθαι ἀλκιμώτερος τῶν 
+
+
+132 
+
+
+BOOK I. 100-103 
+
+
+man in the observance of justice. They would write 
+down their pleas and send them in to him; then would 
+he adjudge upon what was brought him and send his 
+judgments out. This was his manner of deciding cases 
+at law, and he took order too about other matters; 
+for when he heard that a man was doing violence he 
+would send for him and punish him as befitted each 
+offence : and he had spies and eavesdroppers every- 
+where in his dominions. 
+
+101. Deioces, then, united the Median nation, and 
+no other, and ruled it. The Median tribes are these— 
+the Busae, the Paretaceni, the Struchates, the Arizanti, 
+the Budii, the Magi: so many are their tribes. 
+
+102. Deioces had a son, Phraortes, who inherited 
+the throne at Deioces’ death after a reign of fifty- 
+three years.! Having so inherited, he was not content 
+to rule the Medes alone: marching against the Per- 
+sians, he attacked them first, and they were the first 
+whom he made subject to the Medes. Then, with 
+these two strong nations at his back, he subdued one 
+nation of Asia after another, till he marched against 
+the Assyrians, to wit, those of the Assyrians who held 
+Ninus. These had formerly been rulers of all; but 
+now their allies had dropped from them and they 
+were left alone, yet in themselves a prosperous people: 
+marching then against these Assyrians, Phraortes him- 
+self and the greater part of his army perished, after 
+he had reigned twenty-two years. 
+
+103. At his death he was succeeded by his son 
+Cyaxares. He is said to have been a much greater 
+
+
+1 Deioces died in 656 B.O. 
+
+
+133 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+προγόνων, καὶ πρῶτός τε ἑλόχισε κατὰ τέλεα 
+τοὺς ἐν τῇ ᾿Ασίῃ καὶ πρῶτος διέταξε χωρὶς 
+ἑκάστους εἶναι, τούς τε αἰχμοφόρους καὶ τοὺς 
+τοξοφόρους καὶ τοὺς ἱππέας' πρὸ τοῦ δὲ ἀναμὶξ 
+ἦν πάντα ὁμοίως ἀναπεφυρμένα. οὗτος ὁ τοῖσι 
+Λυδοῖσι ἐστὶ μαχεσάµενος ὅτε νὺξ ἡ ἡμέρη 
+ἐγένετό σφι μαχομένοισι, καὶ ὁ τὴν " AXvos ποτα- 
+μοῦ ἄνω ᾿Ασίην πᾶσαν συστήσας ἑωυτῷ. συλ. 
+λέξας δὲ τοὺς ὑπ᾽ ἑωυτῷ ἀρχομένους πάντας 
+ἐστρατεύετο ἐπὶ τὴν Νίνον, τιμωρέων τε τῷ πατρὶ 
+καὶ τὴν πόλιν ταύτην θέλων ἐξελεῖν. καί οἱ, ὡς 
+συμβαλὼν ἐνίκησε τοὺς ᾿Ασσυρίους, περικατη- 
+μένῳ τὴν Νίνον ἐπῆλθε Σκυθέων στρατὸς μέγας, 
+ἦγε δὲ αὐτοὺς βασιλεὺς ὁ Σκυθέων Μαδύης 
+Προτοθύεω παῖς" of ἐσέβαλον μὲν ἐς τὴν ᾿Ασίην 
+Κιμμερίους ἐκβαλόντες ἐκ τῆς Εὐρώπης, τούτοισι 
+δὲ ἐπισπόμενοι φεύγουσι οὕτω ἐς τὴν Μηδικὴν 
+χώρην ἀπίκοντο. 
+
+104. Ἔστι δὲ ἀπὸ τῆς λίμνης τῆς Μαιήτιδος 
+ἐπὶ Φᾶσιν ποταμὸν καὶ ἐς Κόλχους τριήκοντα 
+ἡμερέων εὐξώνῳ odds, ἐκ δὲ τῆς Κολχίδος οὐ 
+πολλὸν ὑπερβῆναι ἐς τὴν Μηδικήν, ἀλλ ἓν τὸ 
+διὰ μέσου ἔθνος αὐτῶν ἐστι, Σάσπειρες, τοῦτο δὲ 
+παραμειβομένοισι εἶναι ἐν τῇ Μηδικῇ. οὐ μέντοι 
+οἵ γε Σκύθαι ταύτῃ ἐσέβαλον, ἀλλὰ τὴν κατύ- 
+περθε ὁδὸν πολλῷ μακροτέρην ἐκτραπόμενοι, ἐν 
+δεξιῇ ἔχοντες τὸ Καυκάσιον ὄρος. ἐνθαῦτα οἱ 
+μὲν Μῆδοι συμβαλόντες τοῖσι Σκύθῃσι καὶ ἕσσω- 
+θέντες τῇ μάχῃ τῆς ἀρχῆς κατελύθησαν, οἱ δὲ 
+Σκύθαι τὴν ᾿Λσίην πᾶσαν ἐπέσχον. 
+
+
+134 
+
+
+BOOK I. 103-104 
+
+
+warrior than his fathers: it was he who first arrayed 
+the men of Asia in companies and set each kind in 
+bands apart, the spearmen and the archers and the — 
+horsemen : before this they were all blended alike 
+confusedly together. This was the king who fought 
+against the Lydians when the day was turned to night 
+in the battle, and who united under his dominion all 
+Asia that is beyond theriver Halys. Collecting all his 
+subjects, he marched against Ninus, wishing to avenge 
+his father and to destroy the city. He defeated the 
+Assyrians in battle; but while he was besieging their 
+city there came down upon him a great army of 
+Scythians, led by their king Madyes son of Protothyes. 
+These had invaded Asia after they had driven the 
+Cimmerians out of Europe: pursuing them in their 
+flight the Scythians came to the Median country.! 
+
+104. It is thirty days' journey for an unburdened 
+man from the Maeetian lake? to the river Phasis and 
+the land of the Colchi ; from the Colchi it is an easy 
+matter to cross into Media: there is but one nation 
+between, the Saspires; to pass these is to be in 
+Media. Nevertheless it was not by this way that 
+the Scythians entered; they turned aside and came 
+by the upper and much longer road, having on their 
+right the Caucasian mountains. There the Medes 
+met the Scythians, who worsted them in battle and 
+deprived them of their rule, and made themselves 
+masters of all Asia. 
+
+1 This is the same story as that related in the early 
+chapters of Book IV. The Scythians, apparently, marched 
+eastwards along the northern slope of the Caucasus, turning 
+south between the end of the range and the Caspian. But 
+Herodotus’ geography in this story is difficult to follow.— 
+
+
+The **Saspires" are in Armenia. 
+3 The Maeetian lake is the Sea of Azov. 
+
+
+135 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+105. ᾿Ενθεῦτεν δὲ ἤισαν ἐπ᾽ Αἴγυπτον: καὶ 
+ἐπείτε ἐγένοντο ἐν τῇ Παλαιστίνῃ Συρίη, Ψαμμή- 
+TLXOS σφέας Αἰγύπτου βασιλεὺς ἀντιάσας ώ- 
+poisi τε καὶ λετῇσι ἀποτράπει τὸ προσωτέρω μὴ 
+πορεύεσθαι. of δὲ ἐπείτε ἀναχωρέοντες ὀπίσω 
+ἐγένοντο τῆς Συρίης ἐν ᾿Ασκάλωνι πόλι, τῶν 
+πλεόνων Σκυθέων παρεξελθόντων ἀσινέων, ὀλίγοι 
+τινὲς αὐτῶν ὑπολειφθέντες ἐσύλησαν τῆς οὐρανίης 
+᾿Αφροδίτης τὸ ἱρόν. ἔστι δὲ τοῦτο τὸ ἱρόν, ὡς 
+ἐγὼ πυνθανόμενος εὑρίσκω, πάντων ἀρχαιότατον 
+ἱρῶν ὅσα ταύτης τῆς θεοῦ" καὶ γὰρ τὸ ἐν Κύπρῳ 
+ἱρὸν ἐνθεῦτεν ἐγένετο, ὡς αὐτοὶ Κύπριοι λέγουσι, 
+καὶ τὸ ἐν Κυθήροισι Φοίνικες εἰσὶ οἱ ἱδρυσάμενοι 
+ἐκ ταύτης τῆς Συρίης ἐόντες. τοῖσι δὲ τῶν Σκυ- 
+θέων συλήσασι τὸ ἱρὸν τὸ ἐν ᾿Ασκάλωνι καὶ τοῖσι 
+τούτων αἰεὶ ἐκγόνοισι ἐνέσκηψε ὁ θεὸς θήλεαν 
+νοῦσον' ὥστε ἅμα λέγουσί τε οἱ Σκύθαι διὰ τοῦτο 
+σφέας νοσέειν, καὶ ὁρᾶν παρ᾽ ἑωυτοῖσι τοὺς 
+ἀπικνεομένους ἐς τὴν Σκυθικὴν χώρην ὡς δια- 
+κέαται τοὺς καλέουσι ᾿Ενάρεας οἱ Σκύθαι. 
+
+106. Ἐπὶ μέν νυν ὀκτὼ καὶ εἴκοσι ἔτεα ἦρχον 
+τῆς ᾿Ασίης οἱ Σκύθαι, καὶ τὰ πάντα σφι ὑπό τε 
+ὕβριος καὶ ὀλιγωρίης ἀνάστατα ἦν' χωρὶς μὲν 
+γὰρ φόρον ἔπρησσον παρ᾽ ἑκάστων τὸν ἑκάστοισι 
+ἐπέβαλλον, χωρὶς δὲ τοῦ φόρου ἥρπαζον περιε- 
+λαύνοντες τοῦτο ὅ τι ἔχοιεν ἕκαστοι. καὶ τούτων 
+μὲν τοὺς. πλεῦνας Κυαξάρης τε καὶ Μῆδοι ξεινί- 
+σαντες καὶ καταμεθύσαντες κατεφόνευσαν, καὶ 
+οὕτω ἀνεσώσαντο τὴν ἀρχὴν Μῆδοι καὶ ἐπεκρά- 
+τεον τῶν περ καὶ πρότερον, καὶ τήν τε Νίνον 
+
+
+136 
+
+
+BOOK I. 108-106 
+
+
+105. ‘Thence they marched against Egypt: and 
+when they were in the part of Syria called Palestine, 
+Psammetichus king of Egypt met them and persuaded 
+them with gifts and prayers to come no further. So 
+they turned back, and when they came on their way 
+to the city of Ascalon in Syria, most of the Scythians 
+_ passed by and did no harm, but a few remained behind 
+and plundered the temple of Heavenly Aphrodite.! 
+This temple, as I learn from what I hear, is the oldest 
+of all the temples of the goddess, for the temple in 
+Cyprus was founded from it, as the Cyprians them- 
+selves say: and the temple on Cythera was founded 
+by Phoenicians from this same land of Syria. But the 
+Scythians who pillaged the temple, and all their des- 
+cendants after them, were afflicted by the goddess 
+with the “female” sickness: insomuch that the Scy- 
+thians say that this is the cause of their disease, and 
+that those who come to Scythia can see there the 
+plight of the men whom they call “ Enareis." ? 
+
+106. The Scythians, then, ruled Asia for twenty- 
+eight years: and all the land was wasted by reason of 
+their violence and their pride, for, besides that they 
+exacted from each the tribute which was laid upon 
+him, they rode about the land carrying off all men’s 
+possessions. The greater number of them were enter- 
+tained and made drunk and then slain by Cyaxares and 
+the Medes: so thus the Medes won back their empire 
+and all that they had formerly possessed ; and they 
+
+1 The great goddess (Mother of Heaven and Earth) wor- 
+shipped by Eastern nations under various names—M ylitta in 
+Assyria, Astarte in Phoenicia: called Heavenly Aphrodite, 
+or simply the Heavenly One, by Greeks. 
+
+
+2 The derivation of this word is uncertain; it is agreed 
+that the disease was a loss of virility. In iv. 67 évaphs = 
+
+
+ἀνδρόγυνος. Bees Mete M Wee ον 
+
+
+2 LU 
+έτος αρ Y 
+
+
+137 
+
+
+t» 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+el Xov (ὡς δὲ εἶλον, ἐν ἑτέροισι λόγοισι δηλώσω) 
+καὶ τοὺς ᾿Ασσυρίους ὑποχειρίους ἐποιήσαντο 
+πλὴν τῆς Βαβυλωνίης μοίρης. 
+
+107. Μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα Κυαξάρης μέν, βασιλεύσας 
+τεσσεράκοντα ἔτεα σὺν τοῖσι Σκύθαι ἦρξαν, 
+τελευτᾷ, ἐκδέκεται δὲ ᾿Αστυάγης Κυαξάρεω παῖς 
+τὴν βασιληίην. 
+
+Καί οἱ ἐγένετο θυγάτηρ τῇ οὔνομα ἔθετο Μαν- 
+δάνην' τὴν ι ἐδόκεε ᾿Αστυάγης ἐν τῷ ὕπνῳ. οὐρῆσαι 
+τοσοῦτον ὥστε πλῆσαι μὲν τὴν ἑωυτοῦ πόλιν, 
+ἐπικατακλύσαι δὲ καὶ τὴν ᾿Ασίην πᾶσαν. ὑπερ- 
+θέμενος δὲ τῶν Μάγων τοῖσι -ὀνειροπόλοισι τὸ 
+ἐνύπνιον, ἐφοβήθη Tap αὐτῶν αὐτὰ ἕκαστα 
+μαθών. μετὰ δὲ τὴν Μανδάνην ταύτην ἐοῦσαν 
+ἤδη ἀνδρὸς ὡραίην. Μήδων μὲν τῶν ἑωυτοῦ ἀξίων 
+οὐδενὶ διδοῦ γυναῖκα, δεδοικὼς τὴν ὄψιν. ὃ δὲ 
+Πέρσῃ διδοῖ τῷ οὔνομα ἦν Καμβύσης, τὸν ᾿εὕρισκε 
+οἰκίης μὲν ἐόντα ἀγαθῆς τρόπου δὲ ἡσυχίου, 
+
+
+πολλῷ ἔνερθε ἄγων αὐτὸν μέσου ἀνδρὸς Μήδου. 
+
+
+108. Συνοικεούσης δὲ τῷ Καμβύσῃ τῆς Μαν- 
+δάνης, ὁ ᾿Αστυάγης τῷ πρώτῳ ἔτεῖ εἶδε ἄλλην 
+ὄψιν, ἐδόκεε δέ οἱ ἐκ τῶν αἰδοίων τῆς θυγατρὸς 
+ταύτης φῦναι ἄμπελον, τὴν δὲ ἄμπελον ἐπισχεῖν 
+τὴν ᾿Ασίην πᾶσαν. ἰδὼν δὲ τοῦτο καὶ ὑπερθέ- 
+μενος τοῖσι «ὀνειροπόλοισι, μετεπέμψατο ἐκ τῶν 
+Περσέων τὴν θυγατέρα ἐπίτεκα ἐοῦσαν, ἀπικο- 
+μένην δὲ ἐφύλασσε βουλόμενος τὸ γενόμενον ἐξ 
+αὐτῆς διαφθεῖραι" ἐκ γάρ οἱ τῆς ὄψιος οἱ τῶν 
+Μάγων ὀνειροπόλοι ἐσήμαινον ὅτι μέλλοι. ὁ τῆς 
+θυγατρὸς αὐτοῦ γόνος βασιλεύσειν ἀντὶ ἐκείνου. 
+ταῦτα δὴ ὧν φυλασσόμενος ὁ ᾿Αστυάγης, ὡς 
+ἐγένετο ὁ Κῦρος, καλέσας "Αρπαγον ἄνδρα οἰκήιον 
+
+
+148 
+
+
+BOOK I. 106—108 
+
+
+took Ninus (in what manner I will show in a later 
+part of my history), and brought all Assyria except 
+the province of Babylon under their rule. 
+
+107. Afterwards Cyaxares died after a reign of 
+forty years (among which I count the years of the 
+Scythian domination) : and his son Astyages reigned 
+in his stead. 
+
+Astyages had a daughter, whom he called Man- 
+dane: concerning whom he had a dream, that 
+enough water flowed from her to fill his city and 
+overflow all Asia. He imparted this vision to those 
+of the Magi who interpreted dreams, and when he 
+heard what they told him he was terrified: and 
+presently, Mandane being now of marriageable age, 
+he feared the vision too much to give her to any 
+Median worthy to mate with his family, but wedded 
+her to a Persian called Cambyses, a man whom he 
+knew to be well born and of a quiet temper: for 
+Astyages held Cambyses to be much lower than a 
+Mede of middle estate. 
+
+108. But in the first year of Mandane’s marriage to 
+Cambyses Astyages saw a second vision. He dreamt 
+that there. grew from his daughter a vine, which 
+covered the whole of Asia. Having seen this vision, 
+and imparted it to the interpreters of dreams, he 
+sent to the Persians for his daughter, then near 
+her time, and when she came kept her guarded, 
+desiring to kill whatever child she might bear: for 
+the interpreters declared that the meaning of his 
+dream was that his daughter's offspring should rule 
+in his place. Wishing to prevent this, Astyages 
+on the birth of Cyrus summoned to him a man 
+of his household called Harpagus, who was his 
+
+
+VOL. I. Ε 149 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+καὶ πιστότατόν τε Μήδων καὶ πάντων ἐπίτροπον 
+τῶν ἑωυτοῦ, ἔλεγέ οἱ τοιάδε. '"Άρπαγε, πρῆγμα 
+τὸ ἄν τοι προσθέω, μηδαμῶς παραχρήσῃ, μηδὲ 
+ἐμέ τε παραβάλῃ καὶ ἄλλους ἑλόμενος ἐξ d ὑστέρης 
+σοὶ αὐτῷ περιπέσῃς" λάβε τὸν Μανδάνη € ἔτεκε 
+παῖδα, φέρων δὲ ἐς σεωυτοῦ ἀπόκτεινον, μετὰ δὲ 
+θάψον τρόπῳ ὅτεῳ αὐτὸς βούλεαι," ὃ δὲ ἀμεί- 
+Berar Q βασιλεῦ, οὔτε ἄλλοτέ κω παρεῖδες 
+ἀνδρὶ τῷδε ἄχαρι οὐδέν, φυλασσόμεθα δὲ ἐς σὲ 
+καὶ ἐς τὸν μετέπειτα χρόνον μηδὲν ἐξαμαρτεῖν. 
+ἀλλ᾽ εἶ τοι φίλον τοῦτο οὕτω γίνεσθαι, χρὴ δὴ τό 
+γε ἐμὸν ὑπηρετέεσθαι ἐπιτηδέως.᾽ 
+
+109. Τούτοισι ἀμειψάμενος ὁ ΄Αρπαγος, ὦ ὥς οἱ 
+παρεδόθη τὸ παιδίον κεκοσμημένον τὴν ἐπὶ 
+θανάτῳ, ἤιε κλαίων ἐς τὰ οἰκία παρελθὼν δὲ 
+ἔφραζε τῇ ἑωυτοῦ γυναικὶ τὸν πάντα ᾿Αστυάγεος 
+ῥηθέντα λόγον. ἣ δὲ πρὸς αὐτὸν λέγει «Νῦν ὧν Tí 
+σοὶ ἐν νόῳ ἐστὶ ποιέειν; ὃ δὲ ἀμείβεται “Οὐ τῇ 
+ἐνετέλλετο ᾿Αστυάγης, οὐδ᾽ ei παραφρονήσει Te 
+καὶ μανέεται κάκιον 7 νῦν μαίνεται, οὔ οἱ ἔγωγε 
+προσθήσομαι τῇ γνώμῃ οὐδὲ ἐς φόνον τοιοῦτον 
+ὑπηρετήσω. πολλῶν δὲ εἴνεκα οὐ φονεύσω μεν, 
+καὶ ὅτι αὐτῷ μοι συγγενής ἐστὶ ὁ παῖς, καὶ ὅτι 
+᾿Αστυάγης μὲν ἐστὶ γέρων καὶ ἄπαις ἔρσενος 
+γόνου" εἰ δ᾽ ἐθελήσει τούτου τελευτήσαντος ἐς 
+τὴν θυγατέρα ταύτην ἀναβῆναι 7 τυραννίς, τῆς 
+νῦν τὸν υἱὸν κτείνει δι ἐμεῦ, ἄλλο τι ἢ λείπεται 
+τὸ ἐνθεῦτεν ἐμοὶ κινδύνων ὁ μέγιστος; ἀλλὰ τοῦ 
+μὲν ἀσφαλέος εἵνεκα ἐμοὶ δεῖ τοῦτον τελευτᾶν. τὸν 
+παῖδα, δεῖ μέντοι τῶν τινα ᾿Αστυάγεος αὐτοῦ 
+φονέα γενέσθαι καὶ μὴ τῶν ἐμῶν." 
+
+
+140 
+
+
+BOOK I. 108-109 
+
+
+faithfullest servant among the Medes and was 
+steward of all his possessions: then he said, * Do 
+not mishandle this command of mine, Harpagus, nor 
+forsake me for the service of others; lest hereafter 
+it be the worse for yourself. Take the boy whom 
+Mandane has borne, and carry him to your house and 
+kill him: and then bury him in what manner you 
+yourself will" “King,” Harpagus answered, “ never 
+yet have you seen me do aught unpleasing to you; 
+and I will ever be careful not to offend against you. 
+But if it is your will that this should so be done, then 
+it behoves that for my part I render you fitting 
+service.” 
+
+109. Thus answered Harpagus. The child was 
+then given to him, adorned for its death, and he went 
+to his.house weeping. When he came in he told his 
+wife all the command given him by Astyages. ** Now, 
+therefore," said she to him, “what purpose you to 
+do?" * Not," he answered, “ to obey Astyages' behest, 
+no, not though he lose his wits and be more frantic 
+than now he is: even so I myself will not serve 
+his purpose, nor be his instrument for such a murder. 
+There are many reasons why I will not kill the child: 
+he is akin to myself, and further, Astyages is old, 
+and has no male issue: now if after his death the 
+sovereignty passes to this daughter of his, whose son 
+he is now using me to slay, what is left for me but 
+the greatest of all dangers? Nay, for my safety I 
+must see that the boy dies, but the deed must be 
+done by some one of Astyages’ own men and not of 
+mine.” 
+
+14! 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+110. Ταῦτα εἶπε καὶ αὐτίκα ἄγγελον ἔπεμπε 
+ἐπὶ τῶν βουκόλων τῶν ᾿Αστυάγεος τὸν ἠπίστατο 
+νομάς τε ἐπιτηδεοτάτας νέμοντα καὶ ὄρεα θηριω- 
+δέστατα' τῷ οὔνομα. ἣν Μιτραδάτης, συνοίκεε δὲ 
+ἑωυτοῦ συνδούλη, οὔνομα δὲ τῇ γυναικὶ ἦν τῇ 
+συνοίκεε Κυνὼ κατὰ τὴν Ἑλλήνων γλῶσσαν, 
+κατὰ δὲ τὴν. Μηδικὴν Σπακώ: τὴν γὰρ κύνα 
+καλέουσι σπάκα Μῆδοι. αἱ δὲ ὑπώρεαι͵ εἰσὶ τῶν 
+
+ὀρέων, ἔνθα τὰς νομὰς τῶν βοῶν εἶχε οὗτος δὴ ὁ 
+βουκόλος, πρὸς Bopéw TE ἀνέμου τῶν ᾿Αγβατάνων 
+καὶ πρὸς τοῦ πόντου τοῦ Εὐξείνου" ταύτῃ μὲν γὰρ 
+ἡ Μηδικὴ χώρη πρὸς Σασπείρων ὀρεινή ἐστι 
+κάρτα καὶ ὑψηλή τε καὶ ἴδῃσι συνηρεφής, ἡ δὲ 
+ἄλλη Μηδικὴ χώρη ἐστὶ πᾶσα ἄπεδος. ἐπεὶ ὧν ὁ 
+βουκόλος. σπουδῇ πολλῇ καλεόμενος ἀπίκετο, 
+ἔλεγε ὁ " Aprraryos τάδε. “ Κελεύει σε ᾿Αστυάγης 
+τὸ παιδίον τοῦτο λαβόντα θεῖναι ἐς τὸ ἐρημότατον 
+τῶν ὀρέων, ὅκως ἂν τάχιστα διαφθαρείη" καὶ 
+τάδε τοι ἐκέλευσε εἰπεῖν, ἣν μὴ ἀποκτείνῃς αὐτὸ 
+ἀλλὰ τεῷ τρόπῳ περιποιήσῃς, ὀλέθρῳ τ τῷ κακίστῳ 
+σε διαχρήσεσθαι. ἐπορᾶν δὲ ἐκκείμενον τέταγμαι 
+ἐγώ.᾽ 
+
+111. Ταῦτα ἀκούσας ὁ βουκόλος καὶ ἀναλαβὼν 
+τὸ παιδίον ἤιε τὴν αὐτὴν ὀπίσω. ὁδὸν καὶ ἀπι- 
+κνέεται ἐς τὴν ἔπαυλιν. τῷ δ᾽ ἄρα καὶ αὐτῷ ἡ 
+γυνή, ἐπίτεξ ἐ ἐοῦσα πᾶσαν ἡμέρην, τότε κως κατὰ 
+δαίμονα τίκτει οἰχομένου τοῦ βουκόλου ἐς πόλιν. 
+ἦσαν δὲ ἐν. φροντίδι ἀμφότεροι ἀλλήλων πέρι, 
+ὃ μὲν τοῦ τόκου τῆς γυναικὸς ἀρρωδέων, ἡ ἡ δὲ γυνὴ 
+ὅ τι οὐκ ἑωθὼς ὁ ὁ " Aprraryos μεταπέμψαιτο αὐτῆς 
+τὸν ἄνδρα. ἐπείτε δὲ ἀπονοστήσας ἐπέστη, οἷα 
+ἐξ ἀέλπτου ἰδοῦσα ἡ γυνὴ εἴρετο προτέρη ὅ τι µιν 
+
+
+142 
+
+
+BOOK I. r1o—111 
+
+
+110. So saying, he sent forthwith a messenger to 
+that one of Astyages cowherds whom he knew to 
+pasture his herds in the likeliest places and where 
+the mountains were most haunted of wild beasts. 
+The man's name was Mitradates, and his wife 
+was a slave like him ; her name was in the Greek 
+language Cyno, in the Median Spako: for *spax"' 
+is the Median name for a dog. The foothills ot 
+the mountains where this cowherd pastured his 
+kine are to the north of Agbatana, towards the 
+Euxine sea: for the rest of Media is everywhere 
+a level plain, but here, on the side of the Saspires,! 
+the land is very high and mountainous and covered 
+with woods. So when the cowherd came with all 
+speed at the summons, Harpagus said: “ Astyages . 
+bids you take this child and lay it in the most 
+desolate part of the mountains, that it may thus 
+perish as soon as may be. And he bids me say, that 
+if you kill not the child, but in any way save it alive, 
+you shall die a terrible death: and it is I who am 
+ordered to see it exposed." 
+
+111. Hearing this, the cowherd took up the child 
+and returned by the same way and came to his stead- 
+ing. Now it chanced that his wife too had been 
+expecting her time every day, and providence so 
+ordained that she was brought to bed while her man 
+was away in the city. Each of them was anxious for 
+the other, the husband being afraid about his wife’s 
+travail, and the wife because she knew not why 
+Harpagus had so unwontedly sent for her husband. 
+So when he returned and came before her, she was 
+startled by the unexpected sight and asked him before 
+
+
+1 In the north-western part of Media: modern Azer- 
+baijan. 
+
+
+143 
+
+
+153 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οὕτω προθύμως "A ρπαγος μετεπέμψατο. | ὃ δὲ 
+εἶπε O γύναι, εἶδόν τε ἐς πόλιν ἐλθὼν καὶ ἤκουσα 
+τὸ μήτε ἰδεῖν ὄφελον μήτε κοτὲ γενέσθαι ἐς 
+δεσπότας τοὺς ἡμετέρους. οἶκος μὲν πᾶς Aprá- 
+yov κλαυθμῷ κατείχετο, ἐγὼ δὲ .ἐκπλαγεὶς jia 
+ἔσω. ὡς δὲ τάχιστα ἐσῆλθον, ὁ ὀρέω παιδίον προ- 
+κείµενον ἀσπαῖρόν τε καὶ κρανγανώμενον, κεκοσµη- 
+μένον χρυσῷ τε καὶ ἐσθῆτι ποικίλῃ. "Aprravyos δὲ 
+ὡς εἶδέ µε, ἐκέλευε τὴν ταχίστην ἀναλαβόντα τὸ 
+παιδίον οἴχεσθαι φέροντα καὶ θεῖναι ἔνθα θηριωδέ- 
+στατον εἴη τῶν ὀρέων, φὰς ᾿Αστυάγεα εἶναι τὸν 
+ταῦτα ἐπιθέμενόν μοι, πόλλ᾽ ἀπειλήσας εἰ μή 
+σφεα ποιήσαιμι. καὶ ἐγὼ ἀναλαβὼν ἔφερον, 
+δοκέων τῶν τινος οἰκετέων elvat οὐ γὰρ ἂν κοτὲ 
+κατέδοξα ἔνθεν γε ἦν. ἐθάμβεον δὲ ὁ ὀρέων χρυσῷ 
+τε καὶ εἶμασι κεκοσμημένον, πρὸς δὲ καὶ ὁ κλαυθμὸν 
+κατεστεῶτα ἐμφανέα ἐν ᾿Αρπάγου. καὶ πρόκατε 
+δὴ κατ᾽ ὁδὸν πυνθάνομαι τὸν πάντα λόγον θερά- 
+ποντος, ὃς ἐμὲ προπέμπων ἔξω πόλιος ἐνεχείρισε 
+τὸ βρέφος, ὡς ἄρα Μανδάνης τε εἴη παῖς τῆς 
+᾿Αστυάγεος θυγατρὸς καὶ Καμβύσεω. τοῦ Κύρου, 
+καί μιν Ἀστυάγης ἐντέλλεται ἀποκτεῖναι. νῦν τε 
+ὅδε ἐστί. 
+
+119. "Αμα δὲ ταῦτα ἔλεγε ὁ βουκόλος καὶ 
+ἐκκαλύψας ἀπεδείκνυε. f$) δὲ ὡς εἶδε τὸ παιδίον 
+μέγα T€ καὶ εὐειδὲς ἐ ἐόν, δακρύσασα n λαβομένη 
+τῶν γουνάτων τοῦ ἀνδρὸς ἐχρήιξε μη δεμιῇ τέχνῃ 
+ἐκθεῖναί μιν. ὃ δὲ οὐκ ἔφη οἷός T εἶναι ἄλλως 
+αὐτὰ ποιέειν' ἐπιφοιτήσειν γὰρ κατασκόπους ἐξ 
+“Αρπάγου ἐποψομένους, ἀπολέεσθαί τε κάκιστα 
+ἦν μή σφεα ποιήσῃ. ὡς δὲ οὐκ ἔπειθε ἄρα τὸν 
+ἄνδρα, δεύτερα λέγει ἡ γυνὴ τάδε. “᾿Επεὶ τοίνυν 
+
+
+144 
+
+
+BOOK I. σιι-1ι2 
+
+
+he could speak why Harpagus had so instantly sum- 
+moned him. ** Wife," he said, “ when I came to the 
+city, I saw and heard what I would I had never seen, 
+and what I would had never happened to our masters. 
+All the house of Harpagus was full of weeping; and 
+_ I was astonished, and entered in; and immediately 
+I saw a child laid there struggling and crying, decked 
+out with gold and many-coloured raiment. And when 
+Harpagus saw me, he bade me take the child wivh all 
+speed and bear it away and lay it where there are most 
+wild beasts in the mountains: it was Astyages, he 
+said, who laid this command on me, and Ha 
+threatened me grievously if I did not do his will. So 
+I took up the child and bore him away, supposing 
+him to be the child of someone in the household ; for 
+I could never have guessed whose he was. But I was 
+amazed at seeing him decked with gold and raiment, 
+and at hearing moreover the manifest sound of weep- 
+ing in the house of Harpagus. Very soon on the way 
+I heard all the story from a servant who brought me 
+out of the city and gave the child into my charge : 
+to wit, that it was the son of Mandane the king's 
+daughter and Cambyses the son of Cyrus, and that 
+Astyages bade him slay the child. And now, here 
+is the child." 
+
+112. And with that the cowherd uncovered it 
+and showed it. But when the woman saw how fine 
+and fair the child was, she fell a-weeping and laid 
+hold of the man's knees and entreated him by 
+no means to expose him. But the husband said he 
+could do no other; for, he said, there would be com- 
+ings of spies from Harpagus to see what was done, 
+and he must die a terrible death if he did not obey. 
+So then being unable to move her husband, the 
+woman said next: “Since I cannot move you from your 
+
+145 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+oU δύναμαί σε πείθειν μὴ ἐκθεῖναι, σὺ δὲ ὧδε 
+ποίησον, e εἰ δὴ πᾶσα ἀνάγκη ὀφθῆναι ἐ ἐκκείμενον. 
+τέτοκα γὰρ καὶ ἐ ἐγώ, τέτοκα δὲ τεθνεός. τοῦτο μὲν 
+φέρων πρόθες, τὸν δὲ τῆς ᾿Αστυάγεος θυγατρὸς 
+παῖδα ὡς ἐξ ἡμέων ἐόντα τρέφωμεν. καὶ οὕτω 
+οὔτε σὺ ἁλώσεαι ἀδικέων τοὺς δεσπότας οὔτε ἡμῖν 
+κακῶς βεβουλευμένα, ἔσται" ὅ T€ yap τεθνεὼς 
+βασιληίης ταφῆς κυρήσει καὶ 0 περιεὼν οὐκ ATO- 
+λέει τὴν ψυχήν.᾽ 
+
+113. Κάρτα τε ἔδοξε τῷ βουκόλῳ, πρὸς τὰ 
+παρεόντα, εὖ λέγειν ἡ γυνή, καὶ αὐτίκα ἐποίεε 
+ταῦτα' τὸν μὲν ἔφερε θανατώσων παῖδα, τοῦτον 
+μὲν παραδιδοῖ τῇ ἑωυτοῦ γυναικί, τὸν δὲ ἑωυτοῦ 
+ἐόντα νεκρὸν λαβὼν ἔθηκε ἐς τὸ ἄγγος ἐν τῷ 
+ἔφερε τὸν ἕτερον: κοσμήσας δὲ τῷ κόσμῳ παντὶ 
+τοῦ ἑτέρου παιδός, φέρων ἐς τὸ ἐρημότατον τῶν 
+ὀρέων τιθεῖ. ὡς δὲ τρίτη ἡμέρη τῷ παιδίῳ ἐκκει- 
+μένῳ ἐγένετο, Tue ἐς πόλιν ὁ βουκόλος, τῶν τινα 
+προβοσκῶν φύλακον αὐτοῦ καταλιπών, ἐλθὼν δὲ 
+ἐς τοῦ “Αρπάγου ἀποδεικνύναι ἔφη ἕτοιμος εἶναι 
+τοῦ παιδίου τὸν νέκυν. πέμψας δὲ ὅ “Αρπαγος 
+τῶν ἑωυτοῦ δορυφόρων τοὺς πιστοτάτους εἶδέ τε 
+διὰ τούτων καὶ ἔθαψε τοῦ βουκόλου τὸ παιδίον, 
+καὶ τὸ μὲν ἐτέθαπτο, τὸν δὲ ὕστερον τούτων 
+Κῦρον ὀνομασθέντα παραλαβοῦσα ἔτρεφε ἡ γυνὴ 
+τοῦ βουκόλου, οὔνομα ἄλλο κού τι καὶ οὐ Küpov 
+θεμένη. 
+
+114. Καὶ ὅτε ἦν δεκαέτης ὁ παῖς, πρῆγμα ἐς 
+αὐτὸν τοιόνδε γενόμενον ἐξέφηνέ μιν. ἔπαιξε ἐν 
+τῇ κώμῃ ταύτῃ ἐν τῇ ἦσαν καὶ αἱ βουκολίαι 
+αὗται, ἔπαιξε δὲ μετ᾽ ἄλλων ἡλίκων ἐν ὁδῷ. καὶ 
+οἱ παῖδες παίζοντες εἵλοντο ἑωυτῶν βασιλέα 
+
+
+146 
+
+
+BOOK lI. 112-114 
+
+
+purpose to expose, then do you do this, if needs must 
+that a child be seen exposed. Know that I too have 
+borne a child, but it was dead; take it now and lay 
+it out, but, for the child of the daughter of Astyages, - 
+let us rear it as it were our own ; so shall you escape 
+punishment for offending against our masters, and we 
+shall have taken no evil counsel. For the child that is 
+dead will have royal burial, and he that is alive will 
+not lose his life."' 
+
+113. Thinking that his wife counselled him ex- 
+ceeding well in his present strait, the cowherd 
+straightway did as she said. He gave his wife 
+‘the child whom he had brought to kill him, and 
+his own dead child he put into the chest wherein 
+he carried the other, and decked it with all the 
+other child’s adornment and laid it out in the most 
+desolate part of the mountains. Then on the third 
+day after the laying out of the child, the cowherd 
+left one of his herdsmen to guard it and went to the 
+city, where he came to Harpagus’ house and said he 
+was ready to show the child’s dead body. Harpagus 
+sent the most trusty of his bodyguard, and these 
+saw for him and buried the cowherd’s child. So it 
+was buried: and the cowherd’s wife took and reared 
+the boy who was afterwards named Cyrus; but she 
+gave him not that but some other name. 
+
+114. Now when the boy was ten years old, it was 
+revealed in some such wise as this who he was. 
+He was playing in the village where these herds- 
+men’s quarters were: there he was playing in the 
+road with others of his age. The boys in their 
+
+
+147 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+εἶναι τοῦτον δὴ τὸν τοῦ βουκόλου ἐπίκλησιν 
+παῖδα. ὃ δὲ αὐτῶν διέταξε τοὺς μὲν οἰκίας 
+οἰκοδομέειν, τοὺς δὲ δορυφόρους εἶναι, τὸν δέ κου 
+τινὰ αὐτῶν ὀφθ αλμὸν βασιλέος εἶναι, τῷ δὲ 
+τινὶ τὰς ἀγγελίας φέρειν ἐδίδου γέρας, ὡς ἑκάστῳ 
+ἔργον προστάσσων. εἷς δὴ τούτων τῶν παίδων 
+συμπαίξων, € ἐὼν ᾿Αρτεμβάρεος παῖς ἀνδρὸς δοκί- 
+µου ἐν Μήδοισι, οὐ γὰρ δὴ ἐποίησε τὸ προσ- 
+ταχθὲν ἐκ τοῦ Κύρου, ἐκέλευε αὐτὸν τοὺς 
+ἄλλους παῖδας διαλαβεῖν, πειθομένων δὲ τῶν 
+παίδων ὁ Κῦρος τὸν παῖδα τρηχέως κάρτα 
+περιέσπε μαστιγέων. ὃ δὲ ἐπείτε μετείθη τά- 
+χιστα, ὡς γε δὴ ἀνάξια é ἑωυτοῦ παθών, μᾶλλόν TL 
+περιημέκτεε, κατελθὼν δὲ ἐς πόλιν πρὸς τὸν 
+πατέρα ἀποικτίξετο τῶν ὑπὸ Κύρου ἤντησε, 
+λέγων δὲ οὗ Κύρου (οὐ γάρ κω ἣν τοῦτο τοὔνομα), 
+ἀλλὰ πρὸς τοῦ βουκόλου τοῦ ᾿Αστυάγεος παιδός. 
+ὁ δὲ ᾿Αρτεμβάρης ὀργῇ, ὡς εἶχε ἐλθὼν παρὰ τὸν 
+στυάγεα καὶ ἅμα ἀγόμενος τὸν παῖδα ἀνάρσια 
+πρήγματα ἔφη πεπονθέναι, λέγων “OQ βασιλεῦ, 
+ὑπὸ τοῦ σοῦ δούλου, βουκόλου δὲ παιδὸς ὧδε 
+περιυθρίσμεθα,᾽ δεικνὺς τοῦ παιδὸς τοὺς ὤμους. 
+115. ᾿Ακούσας δὲ καὶ ἰδὼν ᾿Αστυάγης, θέλων 
+τιμωρῆσαι τῷ παιδὶ τιμῆς τῆς ᾿Αρτεμβάρεος 
+εἵνεκα, μετεπέμπετο τόν τε βουκόλον καὶ τὸν 
+παῖδα. ἐπείτε δὲ παρῆσαν ἀμφότεροι, βλέψας 
+πρὸς τὸν Κύρον͵ ὁ ᾿Αστυάγης ἔφη “ Σὺ δὴ ἐὼν 
+τοῦδε τοιούτου ἐόντος παῖς ἐτόλμησας τὸν τοῦδε 
+παῖδα ἐόντος πρώτου παρ᾽ ἐμοὶ ἀεικείῃ τοιῆδε 
+περισπεῖν;᾽ "6 δὲ ἀμείβετο ὧδε. “OQ δέσποτα, ἐγὼ 
+ταῦτα τοῦτον ἐποίησα σὺν δίκῃ. οἱ γὰρ µε ἐκ 
+τῆς κώμης παῖδες, τῶν καὶ ὅδε ἦν, παίζοντες 
+
+
+148 
+
+
+BOOK lI. 114-115 
+
+
+play chose for their king that one who passed for 
+the son of the cowherd. Then he set them severally 
+to their tasks, some to the building of houses, some 
+to be his bodyguard, one (as I suppose) to be 
+the King’s Eye; to another he gave the right of 
+bringing him messages; to each he gave his proper 
+work. Now one of these boys who played with 
+him was son to Artembares, a notable Median; as 
+he did not obey the command Cyrus gave him, Cyrus 
+bade the other boys seize him, and when they did 
+so he dealt very roughly with the boy and scourged 
+him. As soon as he was loosed, very angry at the 
+wrong done him, he went down to his father in the 
+city and complained of what he had met with at the 
+hands of the son of Astyages’ cowherd,—not calling 
+him Cyrus, for that name had not yet been given. 
+Artembares went with his anger fresh upon him to 
+Astyages, bringing his son and telling of the cruel 
+usage he had had: “O King,” said he, “see the 
+outrage done to us by the son of your slave, the son 
+of a cowherd!” and with that he showed his son’s 
+shoulders. 
+
+115. When Astyages heard and saw, he was ready 
+to avenge the boy in justice to Artembares’ rank : so 
+hesent for the cowherd and his son. When they were 
+both present, Ástyages said, fixing his eyes on Cyrus, 
+* [s it you, then, the son of such a father, who have 
+dared to deal so despitefully with the son of the 
+greatest of my courtiers?” “Nay, master," answered 
+Cyrus, “ what I did to him I did with justice. The 
+boys of the village, of whom he was one, chose me 
+
+
+149 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+σφέων αὐτῶν ἐστήσαντο βασιλέα" ἐδόκεον γάρ 
+σφι εἶναι ἐς τοῦτο ἐπιτηδεότατος. οἱ μέν νυν 
+ἄλλοι παῖδες τὰ ἐπιτασσόμενα ἐπετέλεον, οὗτος 
+δὲ ἀνηκούστεέ τε καὶ λόγον εἶχε οὐδένα, ἐς ὃ 
+ἔλαβε τὴν δίκην. εἰ ὧν δὴ τοῦδε εἵνεκα ἄξιός τευ 
+κακοῦ εἰμί, ὅδε τοι πάρειμι." 
+
+116. Ταῦτα λέγοντος τοῦ παιδὸς τὸν ᾿Αστυάγεα 
+ἐσήιε ἀνάγνωσις αὐτοῦ, καί οἱ ὅ τε χαρακτὴρ τοῦ 
+προσώπου προσφέρεσθαι ἐδόκεε ἐς ἑωυτὸν καὶ ἡ 
+ὑπόκρισις ἐλευθερωτέρη εἶναι, ὅ τε χρόνος τῆς 
+ἐκθέσιος τῇ ἡλικίῃ τοῦ παιδὸς ἐδόκεε συμβαίνειν. 
+ἐκπλαγεὶς δὲ τούτοισι ἐπὶ χρόνον ἄφθογγος ἦν" 
+μόγις δὲ δή κοτε ἀνενειχθεὶς εἶπε, θέλων ἐκπέμψαι 
+τὸν ᾿Αρτεμβάρεα, ἵνα τὸν βουκόλον μοῦνον λαβὼν 
+βασανίσῃ, “᾿Αρτέμβαρες, ἐγὼ ταῦτα ποιήσω 
+ὥστε σὲ καὶ τὸν παῖδα τὸν σὸν μηδὲν ἐπιμέμ- 
+φεσθαι.᾽ τὸν μὲν δὴ ᾿Αρτεμβάρεά πέμπει, τὸν 
+δὲ Κῦρον ἦγον ἔσω οἱ θεράποντες κελεύσαντος τοῦ 
+᾿Αστυάγεος, ἐπεὶ δὲ ὑπελέλειπτο ὁ βουκόλος 
+μοῦνος μουνόθεν, τάδε αὐτὸν εἴρετο ὁ ᾿Αστυάγης, 
+κόθεν λάβοι τὸν παῖδα καὶ τίς εἴη ὁ παραδούς. 
+ὃ δὲ ἐξ ἑωυτοῦ τε ἔφη γεγονέναι καὶ τὴν τεκοῦσαν 
+αὐτὸν εἶναι ἔτι παρ ἑωυτῷ. ᾿Αστυάγης δέ μιν 
+οὐκ εὖ βουλεύεσθαι ἔφη ἐπιθυμέοντα ἐς ἀνάγκας 
+μεγάλας ἀπικνέεσθαι, ἅμα τε λέγων ταῦτα 
+ἐσήμαινε τοῖσι δορυφόροισι λαμβάνειν αὐτόν. ὃ 
+δὲ ἀγόμενος ἐς τὸς ἀνάγκας οὕτω δὴ ἔφαινε τὸν 
+ἐόντα λόγον" ἀρχόμενος δὲ ἀπ᾽ ἀρχῆς διεξήιε τῇ 
+ἀληθείῃ χρεώμενος, καὶ κατέβαινε ἐς λιτάς τε καὶ 
+συγγνώμην ἑωυτῷ κελεύων ἔχειν αὐτόν. 
+
+117. ᾿Αστυάγης δὲ τοῦ μὲν βουκόλου τὴν ἆλη- 
+θείην ἐκφήναντος λόγον ἤδη καὶ ἐλάσσω ἐποιέετο, 
+150 
+
+
+BOOK I. 115-117 
+
+
+in their play to be their king : for they thought me 
+the fittest to rule. The other boys then did as I 
+bid them: but this one was disobedient and cared 
+nothing for me, till he got his deserts. So now if I 
+deserve punishment for this, here am I to take it.” 
+
+116. While he spoke, it seemed to Astyages that 
+he recognised Cyrus; the fashion of the boy's 
+countenance was like (he thought) to his own, and 
+his manner of answering was freer than customary : 
+and the time of the exposure seemed to agree with 
+Cyrus age. Being thereby astonished, he sat awhile 
+silent; but when at last with difficulty he could 
+collect his wits, he said (for he desired to rid him- 
+self of Artembares and question the cowherd with 
+none present), “I will so act, Artembares, that you 
+and your son shall have no cause of complaint." 
+So he sent Artembares away, and the servants led 
+Cyrus within at Astyages' bidding. Then, the cowherd 
+being left quite alone, Astyages asked him whence he 
+had got the boy and from whose hands. The cowherd 
+answered that Cyrus was his own son and that the 
+mother was still in his house. * You are ill advised," 
+said Astyages, “ desiring, as you do, to find yourself in 
+a desperate strait,"—and with that he made a sign to 
+the guard to seize hím. Then under stress of necessity 
+the cowherd declared to him all the story, telling all 
+truly as it had happened from the beginning : and 
+at the last he prayed and entreated that the king 
+would pardon him. 
+
+117. When the truth had been so declared Asty- 
+ages took thereafter less account of the cowherd, but 
+
+
+I51 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+"A ρπάγῳ δὲ καὶ μεγάλως μεμφόμενος καλέειν 
+αὐτὸν τοὺς δορυφόρους ἐκέλευε. ὡς δέ οὗ παρῆν 
+ὁ "Aprraryos, εἴρετό µιν ὁ ᾿Αστυάγης “ Αρπαγε, 
+τέῳ δὴ μόρῳ τὸν παῖδα κατεχρήσαο τόν τοι 
+παρέδωκα ἐκ θυγατρὸς γεγονότα τῆς ἐμῆς;᾽ "o δὲ 
+“Αρπαγος ὡς εἶδε τὸν βουκόλον ἔνδον ἐόντα, οὐ 
+τράπεται ἐπὶ ψευδέα ὁδον, ἵνα μὴ ἐλεγχόμενος 
+ἁλίσκηται, ἀλλὰ λέγει τάδε. “COQ βασιλεῦ, € ἐπείτε 
+παρέλαβον τὸ παιδίον, ἐβούλευον σκοπέων ὅκως 
+σοί τε ποιήσω κατὰ νόον, καὶ ἐγὼ πρὸς σὲ γινό- 
+μενος ἀναμάρτητος μήτε θυγατρὶ τῇ σῇ pay re 
+αὐτῷ σοὶ εἴην αὐθέντης. ποιέω δὴ der καλέσας 
+τὸν ᾿βουκόλον τόνδε παραδίδωμι τὸ παιδίον, φὰς 
+cé re εἶναι τὸν κελεύοντα ἀποκτεῖναι αὐτό. καὶ 
+λέγων τοῦτό γε οὐκ ἐψευδόμην: σὺ γὰρ ἐνετέλλεο 
+οὕτω. παραδίδωμι μέντοι τῷδε κατὰ τάδε ἐντει- 
+λάμενος, θεῖναί pw ἐς ἔρημον ὄρος καὶ παρα- 
+μένοντα φυλάσσειν ἄχρι οὗ τελευτήσῃ, ἀπειλήσας 
+παντοῖα τῷδε ἣν μὴ τάδε ἐπιτελέα ποιήσῃ. ἐπείτε 
+δὲ ποιήσαντος τούτου τὰ κελευόμενα ἐτελεύτησε 
+τὸ παιδίον, πέμψας τῶν εὐνούχων τοὺς πιστο- 
+τάτους καὶ εἶδον ov ἐκείνων καὶ ἔθαψά μιν. οὕτω 
+ἔσχε ὦ βασιλεῦ περὶ τοῦ πρήγματος τούτου, καὶ 
+τοιούτῳ «μόρῳ ἐχρήσατο ὁ παῖς. 
+
+118. "Αρπαγος μὲν δὴ τὸν ἰθὺν ἔφαινε λόγον" 
+᾿Αστυάγης δὲ κρύπτων τόν οἱ ἐνεῖχε χόλον διὰ τὸ 
+γεγονός, πρῶτα μέν, κατά περ ἤκουσε αὐτὸς πρὸς 
+τοῦ βουκόλου τὸ πρῆγμα, πάλιν ἀπηγέετο τῷ 
+᾿Αρπάγῳ, μετὰ δὲ ὦ ὥς οἱ ἐπαλιλλόγητο, κατέβαινε 
+λέγων ὡς περίεστύ τε ὁ παῖς καὶ τὸ γεγονὸς ἔχει 
+καλῶς" «Τῷ τε γὰρ πεποιημένῳ” ᾿ ἔφη λέγων «ἐς 
+τὸν παῖδα τοῦτον ἔκαμνον μεγάλως, καὶ θυγατρὶ 
+
+
+152 
+
+
+BOOK Il. 117-118 
+
+
+he was very wroth with Harpagus and bade the guards 
+summon him.  Harpagus came, and Astyages asked 
+him, * Harpagus, in what manner did you kill the boy, 
+my daughter's son, whom I gave you? " Harpagus saw 
+the cowherd in the house, and did not take the way 
+of falsehood, lest he should be caught and confuted : 
+* O King," he said, * when I took the boy, I thought 
+and considered how I should do you pleasure, and 
+not offend against you, yet not be held a murderer by 
+your daughter or yourself. This then I did: I called 
+to me yonder cowherd, and gave over the child to him, 
+telling him that it was you who gave the command to 
+kill it. And that was the truth; for such was your 
+command. ButI gave the child with the charge that 
+the cowherd should lay it on a desolate mountain- 
+side, and wait there and watch till it be dead; and I 
+threatened him with all punishments if he did not 
+accomplish this. Then, when he had done what he 
+was bid, and the child was dead, I sent the trustiest 
+of my eunuchs and by them I saw and buried the 
+body. This, O king, is the tale of the matter, and 
+such was the end of the boy." 
+
+118. So Harpagus spoke the plain truth. Astyages 
+hid the anger that he had against him for what had 
+been done, and first he related the story again to Har- 
+pagus as he had heard it from the cowherd, then, after 
+so repeating it, he made an end by saying that the 
+boy was alive and good had come of it all. ** For," 
+so he said in his speech, “I was greatly afflicted 
+by what had been done to this boy, and it weighed 
+
+
+153 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τῇ ἐμῇ διαβεβλημένος οὐκ ἐν ἐλαφ ρῷ ἐποιεύμην. 
+ὡς ὧν τῆς τύχης εὖ μετεστεώσης, τοῦτο μὲν τὸν 
+σεωυτοῦ παῖδα ἀπόπεμψον παρὰ τὸν παῖδα τὸν 
+νεήλυδα, τοῦτο δέ (σῶστρα γὰρ τοῦ παιδὸς 
+μέλλω θύειν τοῖσι θεῶν τιμὴ αὕτη προσκέεται) 
+πάρισθί μοι ἐπὶ δεῖπνον.” 
+
+119. Αρπαγος μὲν ὡς ἤκουσε ταῦτα, προσκυ- 
+νήσας καὶ μεγάλα ποιησάμενος ὅτι τε ἡ ἁμαρτάς 
+οἱ ἐς δέον ἐ ἐγεγόνεε καὶ ὅτι ἐπὶ τύχῃσι χρηστῇσι 
+ἐπὶ δεῖπνον -ἐκέκλητο, ἤιε ἐς τὰ οἰκία. ἐσελθὼν 
+δὲ τὴν ταχίστην, ἦν yap οἱ παῖς εἷς μοῦνος ἔτεα 
+τρία καὶ δέκα κου μάλιστα γεγονώς, τοῦτον 
+ἐκπέμπει ἰέναι τε κελεύων ἐς ᾿Αστυάγεος καὶ 
+ποιέειν ὅ τι ἂν ἐκεῖνος κελεύῃ, αὐτὸς δὲ περιχαρὴς 
+ἐὼν φράζει τῇ γυναικὶ τὰ συγκυρήσαντα. ᾿Ασ- 
+τυάγης é, ὥς oí ἀπίκετο ὁ Αρπάγου παῖς, 
+σφάξας αὐτὸν καὶ κατὰ μέλεα διελὼν τὰ μὲν 
+ὥπτησε τὰ δὲ ἤψησε τῶν κρεῶν, εὔτυκα δὲ ποιη- 
+σάμενος εἶχε ἕτοιμα. ἐπείτε δὲ τῆς ὥρης γινο- 
+μένης τοῦ δείπνου παρῆσαν | oi τε ἄλλοι δαιτυμόνες 
+καὶ ὁ "Αρπαγος, τοῖσι μὲν ἄλλοισι καὶ αὐτῷ 
+᾿Αστυάγεϊ παρετιθέατο τράπεξαι ἐπίπλεαι μηλέων 
+κρεῶν, Αρπάγῳ. δὲ τοῦ παιδὸς τοῦ ἑωυτοῦ, πλὴν 
+κεφαλῆς τε καὶ ἄκρων ειρῶν τε καὶ è ποδῶν, τἆλλα 
+πάντα' ταῦτα δὲ Αη, ἔκειτο ἐπὶ κανέῳ κατα- 
+κεκαλυμμένα. ὡς δὲ τῷ ᾿Αρπάγῳ ἐδόκεε ἅλις 
+ἔχειν τῆς βορῆς, ᾿Αστυάγης εἴρετό μεν εἰ ἡσθείη 
+τι τῇ θοίνῃ. φαμένου δὲ Ἀρπάγου καὶ κάρτα 
+ἡσθῆναι, παρέφερον τοῖσι προσέκειτο τὴν κεφαλὴν 
+τοῦ παιδὸς κατακεκαλυμμένην καὶ τὰς χεῖρας καὶ 
+τοὺς πόδας, “Αρπαγον δὲ ἐκέλευον προσστάντες 
+ἀποκαλύπτειν τε καὶ λαβεῖν τὸ βούλεται αὐτῶν. 
+
+
+154 
+
+
+BOOK I. 118-119 
+
+
+heavily on me that I was estranged trom my 
+daughter. Now, therefore, in this lucky turn of 
+fortune, send your own son to the boy who is newly 
+come, and come hither to dine with me, for I am 
+about to make sacrifice for the safety of my grandson 
+to the gods to whom this honour is due." 
+
+119. When Harpagus heard this he did obeisance 
+and went to his home, greatly pleased to find that 
+his offence had served the needful end and that he 
+was invited to dinner in honour of this fortunate day. 
+Coming in, he bade his only son, a boy of about 
+thirteen years of age, to go to Astyages' palace and 
+do whatever the king commanded, and in his great 
+joy he told his wife all that had happened. But 
+when Harpagus’ son came, Astyages cut his throat 
+and tearing him limb from limb roasted some and 
+boiled some of the flesh, and the work being 
+finished kept all in readiness. So when it came to the 
+hour for dinner and Harpagus was present among 
+the rest of the guests, dishes of sheeps' flesh were 
+set before Astyages and the others, but Harpagus 
+was served with the flesh of his own son, all but the 
+head and hands and feet, which lay apart covered up 
+in a basket. And when Harpagus seemed to have 
+eaten his fill, Astyages asked him, * Are you pleased 
+with your meal, Harpagus?" “Exceeding well 
+pleased," Harpagus answered. Then those whose 
+business it was brought him in the covered basket 
+the head and hands and feet of his son, and they 
+stood before Harpagus and bade him uncover and 
+take of them what he would. Harpagus did so; 
+
+
+155 
+
+
+=r 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+πειθόµενος δὲ ὁ ο “Αρπαγος καὶ ἀποκαλύπτων ὁρᾷ 
+τοῦ παιδὸς τὰ Ἀείμματα, ἰδὼν δὲ οὔτε ἐξεπλάγη 
+ἐντὸς τε ἑωυτοῦ γίνεται. εἴρετο δὲ αὐτὸν ὁ 
+᾿Αστυάγης εἰ γινώσκοι ὅτευ θηρίου κρέα βε- 
+βρώκοι. ὃ δὲ καὶ γινώσκειν ἔφη καὶ ἀρεστὸν 
+εἶναι πᾶν τὸ ἂν βασιλεὺς ἔρδῃ. τούτοισι δὲ 
+ἀμειψάμενος, καὶ ἀναλαβὼν τὰ λοιπὰ τῶν κρεῶν 
+ἤιε ἐς τὰ οἰκία, ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ ἔμελλε, ὡς ἐγὼ δοκέω, 
+ἁλίσας θάψειν τὰ πάντα. 
+
+120. Αρπάγφ μὲν ᾿Αστυάγης δίκην ταύτην 
+ἐπέθηκε, Κύρου δὲ πέρι βουλεύων ἐκάλεε τοὺς 
+αὐτοὺς τῶν Μάγων οἳ τὸ ἐνύπνιόν οἱ ταύτῃ 
+ἔκριναν. ἀπικομένους δὲ εἴρετο ὁ ᾿Αστυάγης τῇ 
+ἔκρινάν οἱ τὴν ὄψιν. οἳ δὲ κατὰ ταὐτὰ εἶπαν, 
+λέγοντες ὡς .Βασιλεῦσαι χρῆν τὸν παῖδα, εἰ ἐπέ- 
+ἕωσε καὶ μὴ ἀπέθανε πρότερον. ὃ δὲ ἀμείβεται 
+αὐτοὺς τοῖσιδε. “Ἔστι τε 0 παῖς καὶ περίεστι, 
+καί μιν. ἐπ᾽ ἀγροῦ διαιτώμενον οἱ ἐκ τῆς κώμης 
+παῖδες € ἐστήσαντο βασιλέα. ὃ δὲ πάντα ὅσα περ 
+οἱ ἀληθέι λόγῳ βασιλέες ἐτελέωσε ποιήσας" καὶ 
+γὰρ δορυφόρους καὶ θυρωροὺς καὶ ἀγγελιηφόρους 
+καὶ τὰ λοιπὰ πάντα διατάξας ἦρχε. καὶ νῦν ἐς 
+Tí ὑμῖν ταῦτα φαίνεται φέρειν; ᾽ E εἶπαν οἱ Μάγοι 
+“E μὲν περίεστί τε καὶ ἐβασίλευσε ὁ ὁ παῖς μὴ ἐκ 
+προνοίης τινός, θάρσεέ Te τούτου εἶν εκα καὶ θυμὸν 
+ἔχε ἀγαθόν" οὗ γὰρ ἔτι τὸ δεύτερον à ἄρχει. παρὰ 
+σμικρὰ γὰρ καὶ τῶν λογίων ἡμῖν ἔνια κεχώρηκε, 
+καὶ τά γε τῶν ὀνειράτων ἐχόμενα τελέως ἐς 
+ἀσθενὲς ἔ ἔρχεται. - ἀμείβεται ὁ ὁ ᾿Αστυάγης τοῖσιδε. 
+ώς Καὶ αὐτὸς ὦ Μάγοι ταύτῃ πλεῖστος γνώμην 
+εἰμί, βασιλέος ὀνομασθέντος τοῦ παιδὸς ἐξή- 
+κειν τε τὸν ὄνειρον καί μοι τὸν παῖδα τοῦτον 
+
+
+156 
+
+
+BOOK I. 119-120 
+
+
+he uncovered and saw what was left of his son: 
+this he saw, but he mastered himself and was not 
+dismayed. Astyages asked him, * Know you what 
+beast’s flesh you have eaten?" “ Yea," he said, “I 
+know, and all that the king does is pleasing to me.” 
+With that answer he took the rest of the flesh and 
+went to his house, purposing then, as I suppose, to 
+collect and bury all. 
+
+120. Thus did Astyages punish Harpagus. But, 
+to aid him to resolve about Cyrus, he called to him 
+the same Magians who had interpreted his dream 
+as I have said: and when they came Astyages asked 
+them how they had interpreted his vision. They 
+answered as before, and said that the boy must have 
+been made king had he lived and not died first. 
+Then said Astyages, * The boy is saved and alive, 
+and when he was living in the country the boys of 
+his village made him king, and he did duly all that 
+is done by true kings: for he assigned to each 
+severally the places of bodyguards and sentinels and 
+messengers and all else, and so ruled. And to what, 
+think you, does this tend?" “If the boy is alive,” 
+said the Magians, *and has been made king 
+without foreknowledge, then fear not for aught that 
+he can do but keep a good heart: he will not be 
+made king a second time. Know that even in our 
+prophecies it is often but a small thing that has been 
+foretold, and the perfect fulfilment of the dream is 
+but a trifling matter." “I too, ye Magians," said 
+Astyages, “am much of your mind—that the dream 
+came true when the boy was called king, and that I 
+
+
+157 
+
+
+Εν] 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+εἶναι δεινὸν ἔτι ovdev. ὅμως μέν γέ τοι 
+συμβουλεύσατέ μοι εὖ περισκεψ άµενοι τὰ μέλλει 
+ἀσφαλέστατα εἶναι οἴκῳ τε τῷ ἐμῷ καὶ ὑμῖν. 
+εἶπαν πρὸς ταῦτα οἱ Μάγοι ««Ὦ βασιλεῦ, καὶ 
+αὐτοῖσι ἡμῖν περὶ πολλοῦ ἐστι κατορθοῦσθαι 
+ἀρχὴν τὴν σήν. κείνως μὲν γὰρ ἀλλοτριοῦται és 
+TÓV παῖδα τοῦτον περιιοῦσα ἐόντα Πέρσην, καὶ 
+ἡμεῖς ἐόντες Μῆδοι δουλούμεθά τε καὶ λόγου 
+οὐδενὸς γινόμεθα πρὸς Περσέων, ἐόντες ξεῖνοι" 
+σέο δ᾽ ἐνεστεῶτος βασιλέος, ἐόντος πολιήτεω, καὶ 
+ἄρχομεν τὸ μέρος καὶ τιμὰς πρὸς σέο μεγάλας 
+ἔχομεν. οὕτω ὧν πάντως ἡμῖν σέο καὶ τῆς σῆς 
+ἀρχῆς προοπτέον ἐστί. καὶ νῦν εἰ φοβερὸν τι 
+ἐνωρῶμεν, πᾶν ἂν σοὶ προεφράξομεν. νῦν δὲ 
+ἀποσκήψαστος τοῦ ἐνυπνίου ἐς φαῦλον, αὐτοί τε 
+θαρσέομεν καὶ σοὶ ἕτερα τοιαῦτα παρακελενόμεθα. 
+τὸν δὲ παῖδα τοῦτον ἐξ ὀφθαλμῶν ἀπόπεμψαι ἐς 
+Πέρσας. τε καὶ τοὺς γειναμένους. i 
+
+121. ᾿Ακούσας ταῦτα ὁ ᾿Αστυάγης ἐχάρη τε 
+καὶ καλέσας τὸν Κῦρον ἔλεγέ οἱ τάδε. “OQ παῖ, 
+σὲ γὰρ ἐγὼ δι᾽ ὄψιν ὀνειρου οὐ τελέην ἠδίκεον, τῇ 
+σεωυτοῦ δὲ μοίρῃ περίεις' νῦν ὧν ἴθι χαίρων ἐς 
+Πέρσας, πομποὺς δὲ € ἐγὼ ἅμα πέμ ω. ἐλθὼν δὲ 
+ἐκεῖ πατέρα τε καὶ μητέρα εὑρήσεις οὐ κατὰ 
+Μιτραδάτην τε τὸν βουκόλον καὶ τὴν γυναῖκα 
+αὐτοῦ." 
+
+122. Ταῦτα εἴπας ὁ ᾿Αστυάγης ἀποπέμπει τὸν 
+Κῦρον. νοστήσαντα δέ μιν ἐς τοῦ Καμβύσεω τὰ 
+οἰκία ἐδέξαντο οἱ γεινάμενοι, καὶ δεξάμενοι ὡς 
+ἐπύθοντο, μεγάλως ἀσπάξοντο οἷα δὴ ἐπιστάμενοι 
+αὐτίκα τότε τελευτῆσαι, ἱστόρεόν τε ὅτεῳ τρόπῳ 
+περιγένοιτο, ὃ δέ σφι ἔλεγε, φὰς πρὸ τοῦ μὲν οὐκ 
+
+
+158 
+
+
+BOOK Í. 120-122 
+
+
+have no more to fear from him. Nevertheless 
+consider well and advise me what shall be safest 
+both for my house and for you." The Magians 
+said, * King, we too are much concerned that your 
+sovereignty should stand: for in the other case it 
+goes away from your nation to this boy who is a 
+Persian, and so we Medes are enslaved and deemed 
+of no account by the Persians, being as we are of 
+another blood, but while you are established king, 
+who are our countryman, we have our share of power, 
+and great honour is paid us by you. Thus, then, it 
+behoves us by all means to take thought for you and 
+your sovereignty. And at the present time if we 
+saw any danger we would declare all to you: but 
+now the dream has had but a trifling end, and we 
+ourselves have confidence and counsel you to be 
+like-minded. As for this boy, send him away from 
+your sight to the Persians and to his parents." 
+
+121. Hearing this, Astyages was glad, and calling 
+Cyrus, * My lad," he said, *I did you wrong by 
+reason of the vision I had in a dream, that meant 
+naught, but by your own destiny you still live; now 
+therefore, get you to the Persians, and good luck go 
+with you; I will send those that shall guide you. 
+When you are there you shall find a father and mother 
+of other estate than Mitradates the cowherd and his 
+wife." 
+
+122. So said Astyages and sent Cyrus away. 
+When he returned to Cambyses' house, his parents 
+received him there, and learning who he was they 
+welcomed him heartily, for they had supposed that 
+long ago he had straightway been killed, and they 
+asked him how his life had been saved. Then he 
+told them, and said that till now he had known 
+
+
+159 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+εἰδέναι GAN ἡμαρτηκέναι πλεῖστον, κατ ὁδὸν δὲ 
+πυθέσθαι πᾶσαν τὴν ἑωυτοῦ πάθην" ἐπίστασθαι 
+μὲν γὰρ ὡς βουκόλου τοῦ ᾿Αστυάγεος εἴη παῖς, 
+ἀπὸ δὲ τῆς κεῖθεν ὁδοῦ τὸν πάντα λόγον τῶν 
+πομπῶν πυθέσθαι. τραφῆναι δὲ .ἔλεγε ὑπὸ τῆς 
+τοῦ βουκόλου γυναικός, ἤιέ τε ταύτην αἰνέων διὰ 
+παντός, ἦν τέ οἱ ἐν τῷ λόγῳ͵ τὰ πάντα ἡ Κυνώ. 
+οἱ δὲ τοκέες παραλαβόντες τὸ οὔνομα τοῦτο, ἵνα 
+θειοτέρως δοκέῃ τοῖσι Πέρσῃσι περιεῖναί σφι ὁ 
+παῖς, κατέβαλον φάτιν ὡς ἐκκείμενον Κῦρον κύων 
+ἐξέθρεψε. 
+
+123. ᾿Ενθεῦτεν μὲν ἡ φάτις αὕτη κεχώρηκε. 
+Κύρῳ δὲ ἀνδρευμένῳ καὶ ἐόντι τῶν ἡλίκων ἀνδρηιο- 
+τάτῳ καὶ προσφιλεστάτῳ προσέκειτο ὁ "Αρπαγος 
+δῶρα πέμπων, τίσασθαι ᾿Αστυάγεα ἐπιθυμέων' 
+ἀπ’ ἑωυτοῦ γὰρ ἐόντος ἰδιώτεω οὐκ ἐνώρα τιμωρίην 
+ἐσομένην ἐς ᾿Αστυάγεα, Κῦρον δὲ ὀρέων ἐπιτρε- 
+φόμενον è ἐποιέετο σύμμαχον, τὰς πάθας τὰς Κύρου 
+τῇσι ἑωυτοῦ ὁμοιούμενος. πρὸ δ᾽ ἔτι τούτου τάδε 
+οἵ κατέργαστο' ἐόντος τοῦ ᾿Αστυάγεος πικροῦ ἐς 
+τοὺς Μήδους, συμμίσγων ἑνὶ ἑ ἑκάστῳ ὁ “Αρπαγος 
+τῶν πρώτων Μήδων ἀνέπειθε ὡς χρὴ Κῦρον προ- 
+στησαμένους ᾿Αστυάγεα παῦσαι τῆς βασιληίης. 
+κατεργασμένου. δέ οἱ τούτου καὶ ἐόντος ἑτούμου, 
+οὕτω δὴ τῷ Κύρῳ διαιτωμένῳ ἐ ἐν Πέρσῃσι βουλό- 
+μενος ΄Αρπαγος δηλῶσαι τὴν ἑωυτοῦ γνώμην 
+ἄλλως μὲν οὐδαμῶς εἶχε ἅτε τῶν ὁδῶν φυλασσο- 
+μενέων, ὃ δὲ ἐπιτεχνᾶται τοιόνδε" λαγὸν µηχανη- 
+σάμενος, καὶ ἀνασχίσας τούτου τὴν γαστέρα καὶ 
+οὐδὲν ἀποτίλας, ὡς δὲ εἶχε οὕτω ἐσέθηκε βυβλίον, 
+γράψας τά οἱ ἐδόκεε: ἀπ γαρ δὲ τοῦ λαγοῦ 
+τὴν γαστέρα, καὶ δίκτυα δοὺς ἅτε θηρευτῇ τῶν 
+
+
+τόο 
+
+
+BOOK I. 122-123 
+
+
+nothing but been greatly deceived, but that on the 
+way he had heard all the story of his misfortune ; 
+for he had thought, he said, that Astyages' cowherd 
+was his father, but in his journey from the city his 
+escort had told him all the tale. And he had been 
+reared, he said, by the cowherd's wife, and he was 
+full of her praises, and in his tale he was ever 
+speaking of Cyno. Hearing this name, his parents 
+set about a story that Cyrus when exposed was 
+suckled by a bitch, thinking thereby to make the 
+story of his saving seem the more marvellous to the 
+Persians. 
+
+123. This then was the beginning of that legend. 
+But as Cyrus grew to man's estate, being the 
+manliest and best loved of his peers, Harpagus 
+courted him and sent him gifts, wishing to be 
+avenged on Astyages; for he saw no hope of a 
+private man like himself punishing Astyages, but 
+as he saw Cyrus growing up he sought to make him 
+an ally, for he likened Cyrus' misfortune to his own. 
+He had already brought matters so far that—since 
+Astyages dealt harshly with the Medians —he 
+consorted with each of the chief Medians and 
+persuaded them to make Cyrus their leader and 
+depose Astyages. So much being ready and done, 
+Harpagus desired to make known his intent to 
+Cyrus, then dwelling among the Persians; but the 
+roads were guarded, and he had no plan for sending 
+a message but this—he artfully slit the belly of a 
+hare, and then leaving it as it was without further 
+harm he put into it a paper on which he wrote what 
+he thought fit. Then he sewed up the hare's belly, 
+‘and sent it to Persia by the trustiest of his servants, 
+
+
+161 
+
+
+Ft 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οἰκετέων TO πιστοτάτῳ, ἀπέστελλε ἐς τοὺς 
+Πέρσας, ἐντειλάμενός οἱ ἀπὸ γλώσσης διδόντα 
+τὸν λαγὸν Κύρῳ ἐπειπεῖν αὐτοχειρίῃ μιν διελεῖν 
+καὶ μηδένα οἱ ταῦτα ποιεῦντι παρεῖναι. 
+
+. 194. Ταῦτά τε δὴ ὧν ἐπιτελέα. ἐγίνετο καὶ 0 
+Κῦρος παραλαβὼν τὸν λαγὸν ἀνέσχισε" εὑρὼν 
+δὲ ἐν αὐτῷ τὸ βυβλίον ἐνεὸν λαβὼν ἐπελέγετο, τὰ 
+δὲ γράμματα ἔλεγε τάδε. Q παῖ Καμβύσεω, 
+σὲ γὰρ θεοὶ ἐπορῶσι' οὐ γὰρ ἃ ἂν κοτὲ ἐς τοσοῦτο 
+τύχης ἀπίκευ' σύ νυν ᾿Αστυάγεα τὸν σεωυτοῦ 
+φονέα τῖσαι. κατὰ μὲν γὰρ τὴν τούτου προθυμίην 
+τέθνηκας, τὸ δὲ κατὰ θεούς τε καὶ ἐμὲ περίεις' τά 
+σε καὶ πάλαι δοκέω πάντα ἐκμεμαθηκέναι, σέο τε 
+αὐτοῦ πέρι ὡς ἐπρήχθη, καὶ οἷα € ἐγὼ ὑπὸ ᾿Αστυά- 
+Ύεος πέπονθα, ὅ ὅτι σε οὐκ ἀπέκτεινα ἀλλὰ ἔδωκα 
+τῷ βουκόλῳ. σύ νυν, ἦν βούλῃ ἐμοὶ πείθεσθαι, 
+τῆς περ ᾿Αστυάγης ἄρχει χώρης, ταύτης ἁπάσης 
+ἄρξεις. Πέρσας γὰρ ἀναπείσας ἀπίστασθαι στρα- 
+τηλάτεε ἐπὶ Μήδους: καὶ ἤν τε ἐγὼ ὑπὸ ᾿Αστυά- 
+Ύεος ἀποδεχθέω στρατηγὸς ἀντία σεῦ, ἔστι τοι τὰ 
+σὺ βούλεαι, ἤ ἦν τε τῶν τις δοκίμων ἄλλος Μήδων 
+πρῶτοι γὰρ οὗτοι ἀποστάντες ἀπ᾽ ἐκείνου καὶ 
+γενόμενοι. πρὸς σέο ᾿Αστυάγεα καταιρέειν πειρή- 
+σονται. ὡς ὧν ἑτοίμου τοῦ ye ἐνθάδε ἐόντος, ποίεε 
+ταῦτα καὶ ποίεε κατὰ τάχος." 
+
+125. ᾿Ακούσας ταῦτα ὁ Κῦρος ἐφρόντιξε ὃ ὅτεῳ 
+τρόπῳ σοφωτάτῳ Πέρσας ἀναπείσει ἀπίστασθαι, 
+φροντίζων δὲ | εὑρίσκεται ταῦτα καιριώτατα εἶναι" 
+ἐποίεε δὴ ταῦτα. γράψας ἐς βυβλίον τὰ ἐβούλετο, 
+ἁλέην τῶν Περσέων ἐ ἐποιήσατο, μετὰ δὲ ἀναπτύξας 
+τὸ βυβλίον καὶ ἐπιλεγόμενος ἔφη ᾿Αστυάγεά pay 
+στρατηγὸν Περσέων ἀποδεικνύναι. '* Νῦν re,” ἔφη 
+
+
+162 
+
+
+BOOK l. 123-125 
+
+
+giving him nets to carry as if he were a huntsman, 
+The messenger was charged to give Cyrus the hare 
+and bid bim by word of mouth cut it open with his 
+own hands, none other being present. 
+
+124. All this was done. Cyrus took the hare and 
+slit it and read the paper which was in it; the writing 
+was as follows: “Son of Cambyses, seeing that the 
+gods watch over you (for else you had not so pros- 
+pered) do you now avenge yourself on Astyages, 
+your murderer; for according to his intent you are 
+dead; it is by the gods' doing, and mine, that you 
+live. Methinks you have long ago heard the story of 
+what was done concerning yourself and how Astyages 
+entreated me because I slew you not but gave you to 
+the cowherd. If then you will be counselled by me, 
+you shall rule all the country which is now ruled by 
+Astyages. Persuade the Persians to rebel, and lead 
+their army against the Medes; then you have your 
+desire, whether I be appointed to command the army 
+against you or some other notable man among the 
+Medians; for they will of themselves revolt from 
+Astyages and join you and endeavour to pull him down. 
+Seeing then that all here is ready, do as I say and do 
+it quickly.” | 
+
+125. When Cyrus heard this, he considered how 
+most cunningly he might persuade the Persians to 
+revolt; and this he thought most apt to the occasion, 
+and this he did: writing what he would on a paper, 
+he gathered an assembly of the Persians, and then un- 
+folded the paper and declared that therein Astyages 
+appointed him leader of the Persian armies. “ Now," 
+
+
+163 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+λέγων, i: ὦ Πέρσαι, προαγορεύω ὑμῖν παρεῖναι 
+ἕκαστον ἔχοντα, δρέπανον, Κῦρος μὲν ταῦτα 
+προηγόρευσε. ἔστι δὲ Περσέων συχνὰ γένεα, καὶ 
+τὰ μὲν αὐτῶν ὁ Κῦρος συνάλισε καὶ ἀνέπεισε 
+ἀπίστασθαι ἀπὸ Μήδων. ἔστι δὲ τάδε, ἐξ ὧν 
+ὧὦλλοι πάντες ἀρτέαται Πέρσαι, Πασαργάδαι 
+Μαράφιοι Μάσπιοι. τούτων Πασαργάδαι εἰσὶ 
+ἄριστοι, ἐν τοῖσι καὶ ᾿Αχαιμενίδαι εἰσὶ φρήτρη, 
+ἔνθεν οἱ βασιλέες οἱ Περσεῖδαι γεγόνασι. ἄλλοι 
+δὲ Πέρσαι εἰσὶ οἶδε, Πανθιαλαῖοι Αηρουσιαῖοι 
+Γερμάνιοι. οὗτοι μὲν πάντες ἀροτῆρες εἰσί, οἱ δὲ 
+ἄλλοι νομάδες, Δάοι Μάρδοι Δροπικοὶ Σαγάρτιοι. 
+
+126. Ὡς δὲ παρῆσαν ἅπαντες ἔχοντες τὸ προ- 
+εἰρημένον, ἐνθαῦτα ὁ Κῦρος, ἦν γάρ τις χῶρος τῆς 
+Περσικῆς ἀκανθώδης ὅσον τε ἐπὶ ὀκτωκαίδεκα 
+σταδίους ἢ εἴκοσι πάντῃ, τοῦτόν σφι τὸν χῶρον 
+προεῖπε ἐξημερῶσαι ἐν ἡμέρῃ. ἐπιτελεσάντων δὲ 
+τῶν Περσέων. τὸν προκείμενον ἄεθλον, δεύτερά 
+σφι προεῖπε ἐς τὴν ὑστεραίην παρεῖναι λελου- 
+μένους. ἐν δὲ τούτῳ τά τε αἰπόλια καὶ τὰς 
+ποίμνας καὶ τὰ βουκόλια ὃ Κῦρος πάντα τοῦ 
+πατρὸς συναλίσας ἐς τὠυτὸ ἔθυσε καὶ παρεσκεύ- 
+abe ὡς δεξόµενος τὸν Περσέων στρατόν, πρὸς δὲ 
+οἴνῳ τε καὶ σιτίοισι ὡς ἐπιτηδεοτάτοισι. ἄπικο- 
+μένους δὲ τῇ, ὑστεραίῃ τοὺς Πέρσας κατακλίνας ἐ ἐς 
+λειμῶνα εὐώχεε. ἐπείτε δὲ ἀπὸ δεύπνου ἦσαν, 
+εἰ ipeto σφέας ὁ Κῦρος κότερα τὰ τῇ προτεραίῃ 
+εἶχον ἢ τὰ παρεόντα σφι εἴη αἱρετώτερα. οἳ δὲ 
+ἔφασαν πολλὸν εἶναι αὐτῶν τὸ μέσον" τὴν μὲν 
+γὰρ προτέρην ἡμέρην πάντα σφι κακὰ ἔχειν, τὴν 
+δὲ τότε παρεοῦσαν πάντα ἀγαθά. παραλαβὼν δὲ 
+τοῦτο τὸ ἔπος ὁ Κῦρος παρεγύμνου τὸν πάντα 
+
+
+164 
+
+
+BOOK I. 125-126 
+
+
+said he in his speech, * I bid you all, men of Persia, 
+to come each of you with a sickle." (There are many 
+tribes in Persia : those of them whom Cyrus assembled 
+and persuaded to revolt from the Medes were the 
+Pasargadae, the Maraphii, and the Maspii. On these 
+hang all the other Persians. The chief tribe is that 
+of the Pasargadae ; to them belongs the clan of the 
+Achaemenidae, the royal house of Persia. The other 
+Persian tribes are the Panthialaei, the Derusiaei, and 
+the Germanii, all tillers of the soil, and the Dai, 
+the Mardi, the Dropici, the Sagartii, all wandering 
+herdsmen.) 
+
+126. So when they all came with sickles as com- 
+manded, Cyrus bade them clear and make service- 
+able in one day a certain thorny tract of Persia, 
+of eighteen or twenty furlongs each way in ex- 
+tent. The Persians accomplished the appointed 
+task; Cyrus then commanded them to wash them- 
+selves and come on the next day; and mean- 
+while, gathering together his father's goats and 
+sheep and oxen in one place, he slew and prepared 
+them as a feast for the Persian host, providing 
+also wine and all foods that were most suitable. 
+When the Persians came on the next day he made 
+tliem sit and feast in a meadow. After dinner he 
+asked them which pleased them best, their task of 
+yesterday or their present state. They answered 
+that the difference was great: all yesterday they 
+had had nought but evil, to-day nought but good. 
+Then taking their word from their mouths Cyrus laid 
+
+165 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+λόγον, λέγων “"Avdpes Πέρσαι, οὕτω ὑμῖν ἔχει. 
+βουλομένοισι μὲν ἐμέο πείθεσθαι ἔστι τάδε τε 
+καὶ ἄλλα μυρία ἀγαθά, οὐδένα πόνον δουλοπρεπέα 
+ἔχουσι, μὴ βουλομένοισι δὲ ἐμέο πείθεσθαι εἰσὶ 
+ὑμῖν πόνοι τῷ χθιζῷ παραπλήσιοι ἀναρίθμητοι. 
+νῦν ὧν ἐμέο πειθόμενοι γίνεσθε ἐλεύθεροι. αὐτός 
+τε γὰρ δοκέω θείῃ τύχῃ γεγονὼς τάδε ἐς χεῖρας 
+ἄγεσθαι, καὶ ὑμέας ἥγημαι ἄνδρας Μήδων εἶναι 
+οὐ φαυλοτέρους οὔτε τἆλλα οὔτε τὰ πολέμια. ὡς 
+ὧν ἐχόντων ὧδε, ἀπίστασθε ἀπ᾽ ᾿Αστυώγεος τὴν 
+ταχίστην. 
+
+191. Πέρσαι μέν vvv προστάτεω ἐπιλαβόμενοι 
+ἄσμενοι ἐλευθεροῦντο, καὶ πάλαι δεινὸν ποιεύ- 
+μενοι ὑπὸ Μήδων ἄρχεσθαι. ᾿Αστυάγης δὲ ὡς 
+ἐπύθετο Κῦρον ταῦτα πρήσσοντα, πέμψας ay- 
+γελον ἐκάλεε αὐτόν. ὁ δὲ Κῦρος ἐκέλευε τὸν 
+ἄγγελον ἀπαγγέλλειν ὅτι πρότερον ἥξοι παρ᾽ 
+ἐκεῖνον ἢ ᾿Αστυάγης αὐτὸς βουλήσεται. ἀκούσας 
+δὲ ταῦτα ὁ ᾿Αστυάγης Μήδους τε ὥπλισε πάντας, 
+
+. » ^ ν M $4 ο 
+καὶ στρατηγὸν αὐτῶν ὥστε θεοβλαβὴς ἑὼν " Ap- 
+παγον ἀπέδεξε, λήθην ποιεύμενος τά μιν ἐόργεε. 
+ὡς δὲ οἱ Μῆδοι στρατευσάμενοι τοῖσι Πέρσῃσι 
+συνέμισγον, οἳ μὲν τινὲς αὐτῶν ἐμάχοντο, ὅσοι μὴ 
+τοῦ λόγου μετέσχον, οἳ δὲ αὐτομόλεον πρὸς τοὺς 
+Πέρσας, οἱ δὲ πλεῖστοι ἐθελοκάκεόν τε καὶ 
+ἔφευγον. 
+
+128. Διαλυθέντος δὲ τοῦ Μηδικοῦ .στρατεύ- 
+ματος αἰσχρῶς, ὡς ἐπύθετο τάχιστα ὁ ᾿Αστυάγης, 
+ἔφη ἀπειλέων τῷ Κύρῳ ‘ANN οὐδ᾽ ὣς Κῦρός γε 
+χαιρήσει." τοσαῦτα εἴπας πρῶτον μὲν τῶν Μάγων 
+τοὺς ὀνειροπόλους, οἵ μιν ἀνέγνωσαν μετεῖναι τὸν 
+Κῦρον, τούτους ἀνεσκολόπισε, μετὰ δὲ ὥπλισε 
+166 
+
+
+BOOK I. 126-128 
+
+
+bare all his purpose, and said: ** This is your case, 
+men of Persia: obey me and you shall have these 
+good things and ten thousand others besides with no 
+toil and slavery; but if you will not obey me you 
+will have labours unnumbered, like to your toil of 
+yesterday. Now, therefore, do as I bid you, and 
+win your freedom. For I think that I myself was 
+born by a marvellous providence to take this work 
+in hand; and I deem you full as good men as 
+the Medes in war and in all else. All this is 
+true; wherefore now revolt from Astyages with all 
+speed ! " 
+
+127. The Persians had long been ill content that 
+the Medes should rule them, and now having got 
+them a champion they were glad to win their freedom. 
+But when Astyages heard that Cyrus was at this busi- 
+ness, hesenta messenger to summon him ; Cyrus bade 
+the messenger bring back word that Astyages would 
+see him sooner than he desired. Hearing this, 
+Astyages armed all his Medians, and was so infatu- 
+ated that he forgot what he had done to Harpagus, 
+and appointed him to command the army. So no 
+sooner had the Medes marched out and joined battle 
+with the Persians than some of them deserted to the 
+enemy, but most of them of set purpose played the 
+coward and fled; those only fought who had not 
+shared Harpagus’ counsels, 
+
+128. Thus the Median army was foully scattered. 
+Astyages, hearing this, sent a threatening message 
+to Cyrus, “that even so he should not go un- 
+punished "; and with that he took the Magians who 
+interpreted dreams and had persuaded him to let 
+Cyrus go free, and impaled them; then he armed 
+
+
+167 
+
+
+km 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τοὺς ὑπολειφθέντας ἐν τῷ ἄστεϊ τῶν Μήδων, 
+νέους Te καὶ πρεσβύτας ἄνδρας. ἐξαγαγὼν δὲ 
+τούτους καὶ συμβαλὼν τοῖσι Πέρῃσι ἑσσώθη, καὶ 
+
+αὐτὸς τε ᾿Αστυάγης ἐξωγρήθη καὶ τοὺς ἐξήγαγε 
+τῶν Μήδων ἀπέβαλε. 
+
+139, ᾿Εόντι δὲ αἰχμαλώτῳ τῷ ᾿Αστυάγεῖ προσ- 
+στὰς ὁ Ἅρπαγος κατέχαιρέ τε καὶ κατεκερτόµες, 
+καὶ ἄλλα λέγων ἐς αὐτὸν θυμαλγέα ἔπεα, καὶ δὴ 
+καὶ εἴρετό μιν πρὸς τὸ ἑωυτοῦ δεῖπνον, τό μιν 
+ἐκεῖνος σαρξὶ τοῦ παιδὸς ἐθοίνησε, ὅ τι εἴη ἡ 
+ἐκείνου δουλοσύνη ἆ ἀντὶ τῆς βασιληίης. ὃ δέ μιν 
+προσιδὼν ἆ ἀντείρετο ei ἑωυτοῦ ποιέεται τὸ νου 
+ἔργον. “Αρπαγος δὲ ἔφη, αὐτὸς γὰρ γράψαι, τὸ 
+πρῆγμα ἑωυτοῦ δὴ δικαίως εἶναι. ᾿Αστυάγης δέ 
+μιν ἀπέφαινε τῷ λόγῳ σκαιότατόν τε καὶ ἀδικώ- 
+τατον ἐόντα, πάντων ἀνθρώπων, σκαιότατον μέν 
+γε, εἰ παρεὸν αὐτῷ βασιλέα γενέσθαι, εἰ δὴ δι 
+ἑωυτοῦ γε ἐπρήχθη τὰ παρεόντα, ἄλλῳ περιέθηκε 
+τὸ κράτος, ἀδικώτατον δέ, ὅ ὅτι τοῦ δείπνου εἵνεκεν 
+Μήδους κατεδούλωσε. εἰ γὰρ δὴ δεῖν πάντως 
+περιθεῖναι ἄλλῳ τεῷ τὴν βασιληίην καὶ μὴ αὐτὸν 
+ἔχειν, δικαιότερον εἶναι Μήδων τεῷ περιβαλεῖν 
+τοῦτο τὸ ἀγαθὸν ἡ 7) Περσέων. νῦν δὲ Μήδους μὲν 
+ἀναιτίους τούτου ἐόντας δούλους ἀντὶ δεσποτέων 
+γεγονέναι, Πέρσας δὲ δούλους ἐόντας τὸ πρὶν 
+Μήδων νῦν γεγονέναι δεσπότας. 
+
+180. ᾿Αστυάγης μέν νυν βασιλεύσας ἐπ᾽ ἔτεα 
+πέντε καὶ τριήκοντα. οὕτω τῆς βασιληίης κατε- 
+παύσθη, Μῆδοι δὲ ὑπέκυψαν Πέρσῃσι διὰ τὴν 
+τούτου πικρότητα, ἄρξαντες τῆς ἄνω " AXvos 
+ποταμοῦ ᾿Ασίης én’ ἔτεα τριήκοντα καὶ ἑκατὸν 
+δυῶν δέοντα, πάρεξ ἢ ὅσον οἱ Σκύθαι ἦρχον. 
+
+
+168 
+
+
+BOOK I. 128-130 
+
+
+the Medes who were left in the city, the youths and 
+old men. Leading these out, and encountering the 
+Persians, he was worsted: Astyages himself was 
+taken prisoner, and lost the Median army which 
+he led. 
+
+129. He being then a captive, Harpagus came and 
+exulted over him and taunted him, and with much 
+other bitter mockery he brought to mind his banquet, 
+when Astyages had fed Harpagus on his son’s flesh, 
+and asked Astyages what it was to be a slave after 
+having been a king. Fixing his gaze on Harpagus, 
+Astyages asked, “Think you that this, which Cyrus 
+has done, is your work ?" “ It was I," said the other, 
+* who wrote the letter; the accomplishment of the 
+work is justly mine." “Then,” said Astyages, “you 
+stand confessed the most foolish and most unjust 
+man on earth; most foolish, in giving another the 
+throne which you might have had for yourself, if the 
+present business be indeed your doing ; most unjust, 
+in enslaving the Medes by reason of that banquet. 
+For if at al] hazards another and not yourself must 
+possess the royal power, then in justice some Mede 
+should enjoy it, not a Persian: but now you have 
+made the Medes, who did you no harm, slaves instead 
+of masters and the Persians, who were the slaves, are 
+now the masters of the Medes." 
+
+130. Thus Astyages wes deposed from his sove- 
+reignty after a reign of thirty-five years: and the 
+Medians were made to bow down before the Per- 
+sians by reason of Astyages cruelty. They had 
+ruled all Asia beyond the Halys for one hundred 
+and twenty-eight years,! from which must be taken 
+the time when the Scythians held sway. At a later 
+
+
+1 687 to 559 B.o. The Scythians ruled 634-606 B.c. 
+169 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὑστέρῳ μέντοι χρόνῳ μετεμέλησέ τέ σφι ταῦτα 
+ποιήσασι καὶ ἀπέστησαν ἀπὸ Δαρείου, ἀποστάν- 
+τες δὲ ὀπίσω κατεστράφθησαν μάχῃ νικηθέντες. 
+τότε δὲ ἐπὶ ᾿Αστυάγεος οἱ Πέρσαι τε καὶ ὁ Κῦρος 
+ἐπαναστάντες τοῖσι Μήδοισι ἦρχον τὸ ἀπὸ τούτου 
+τῆς ᾿Ασίης. ᾿Αστυάγεα δὲ Κῦρος κακὸν οὐδὲν 
+ἄλλο ποιήσας εἶχε παρ ἑωυτῷ, ἐς ὃ ἐτελεύτησε. 
+
+Οὕτω δὴ Κῦρος γενόμενός τε καὶ τραφεὶς ἐβα- 
+σίλευσε καὶ Κροῖσον ὕστερον τούτων ἄρξαντα 
+ἀδικίης κατεστρέψατο, ὡς εἴρηταί μοι πρότερον, 
+τοῦτον δὲ καταστρεψάμενος οὕτω πάσης τῆς 
+᾿Ασίης ἦρξε. 
+
+131. Ἡέρσας δὲ οἶδα νόμοισι τοιοῖσιδε χρεω- 
+μένους, ἀγάλματα μὲν καὶ νηοὺς καὶ βωμοὺς οὐκ ἐν 
+νόμῳ ποιευμένους ἱδρύεσθαι, ἀλλὰ καὶ τοῖσι 
+ποιεῦσι μωρίην ἐπιφέρουσι, ὡς μὲν ἐμοὶ δοκέειν, 
+ὅτι οὐκ ἀνθρωποφυέας ἐνόμισαν τοὺς θεοὺς κατά 
+περ οἱ "Έλληνες εἶναι: ot δὲ νομίζουσι Διὶ μὲν 
+ἐπὶ τὰ ὑψηλότατα τῶν ὀρέων ἀναβαίνοντες θυσίας 
+ἔρϑειν, τὸν κύκλον πάντα τοῦ οὐρανοῦ Δία καλέ- 
+οντες' θύουσι δὲ ἡλίῳ τε καὶ σελήνῃ καὶ γῇ καὶ 
+πυρὶ καὶ ὕδατι καὶ ἀνέμοισι. τούτοισι μὲν δὴ 
+θύουσι μούνοισι ἀρχῆθεν, ἐπιμεμαθήκασι δὲ καὶ 
+τῇ Οὐρανίῃ θύειν, παρά τε ᾿Ασσυρίων μαθόντες 
+
+, } ; x? ΄ DNE 
+καὶ ᾿Αραβίων. καλέουσι δὲ Ασσύριοι τὴν 'Adpo- 
+δίτην Μύλιττα, ᾿Αράβιοι δὲ ᾿Αλιλάτ, Πέρσαι δὲ 
+Μίτραν. 
+
+132. Quoin δὲ τοῖσι Πέρσῃσι περὶ τοὺς εἰρη- 
+μένους θεοὺς ἥδε κατέστηκε' οὔτε βωμοὺς ποιεῦν- 
+ται οὔτε πῦρ ἀνακαίουσι μέλλοντες θύειν, οὐ 
+σπονδῇ χρέωνται, οὐκὶ αὐλῷ, οὐ στέμμασι, οὐκὶ 
+οὐλῇσι' τῶν δὲ ὡς ἑκάστῳ θύειν θέλῃ, ἐς χῶρον 
+170 
+
+
+BOOK I. 130—132 
+
+
+time they repented of what they now did, and re- 
+belled against Darius!; but they were defeated in 
+battle and brought back into subjection. But now, 
+in Astyages’ time, Cyrus and the Persians rose in 
+revolt against the Medes, and from this time ruled 
+Asia. As for Astyages, Cyrus did him no further 
+harm, and kept him in his own house till Astyages 
+died. 
+
+This is the story of the birth and upbringing of 
+Cyrus, and thus he became king; and afterwards, as 
+I have already related, he subdued Croesus in punish- 
+ment for the unprovoked wrong done him; and after 
+this victory he became sovereign of all Asia. 
+
+131.. As to the usages of the Persians, | know 
+them to be these. It is not their custom to make 
+and set up statues and temples and altars, but those 
+who make such they deem foolish, as I suppose, be- 
+cause they never believed the gods, as do the Greeks, 
+to be in the likeness of men ;- but they call the whole 
+circle of heaven Zeus, and to him they offer sacrifice 
+on the highest peaks of the mountains; they sacri- 
+fice also to the sun and moon and earth and fire and 
+water and winds. These are the only gods to whom 
+they have ever sacrificed from the beginning; they 
+have learnt later, to sacrifice to the * heavenly "? 
+Aphrodite, from the Assyrians and Arabians. She is 
+called by the Assyrians Mylitta, by the Arabians 
+Alilat, by the Persians Mitra. 
+
+132. And this is their fashion of sacrifice to the 
+aforesaid gods: when about to sacrifice they neither 
+build altars nor kindle fire, they use no libations, nor 
+music, nor fillets, nor barley meal; but to whomso- 
+ever of the gods a man will sacrifice, he leads the 
+
+1 In 520 5.0.; the event is recorded in a cuneiform in- 
+scription. 3 See note on ch. 105. 
+
+
+vOL.I. G ds 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+καθαρὸν ἀγαγὼν τὸ κτῆνος καλέει τὸν θεόν, ἐστε- 
+φανωμένος τὸν τιάραν μυρσίνῃ μάλιστα. ἑωυτῷ 
+μὲν δὴ τῷ θύοντι ἰδίῃ μούνῳ οὔ οἱ ἐγγίνεται ἀρᾶ- 
+σθαι ἀγαθά, ὃ δὲ τοῖσι πᾶσι Πέρσῃσι κατεύχεται 
+ev γίνεσθαι καὶ τῷ βασιλέι" ἐν γὰρ δὴ τοῖσι 
+ἅπασι Πέρσῃσι καὶ αὐτὸς γίνεται. ἐπεὰν δὲ δια- 
+μιστύλας κατὰ μέλεα τὸ ἱρήιον ἑψήσῃ τὰ κρέα, 
+ὑποπάσας ποίην ὡς ἁπαλωτάτην, μάλιστα δὲ τὸ 
+τρίφυλλον, ἐπὶ ταύτης ἔθηκε ὧν πάντα τὰ κρέα. 
+διαθέντος δὲ αὐτοῦ Μάγος ἀνὴρ παρεστεὼς 
+ἐπαείδει θεογονίην, οἵην δὴ ἐκεῖνοι λέγουσι εἶναι 
+τὴν ἐπαοιδήνν ἄνευ γὰρ δὴ Μάγου οὔ σφι νόμος 
+ἐστὶ θυσίας ποιέεσθαι. ἐπισχὼν δὲ ὀλίγον χρόνον 
+ἀποφέρεται ὁ θύσας τὰ κρέα καὶ χρᾶται ὅ τι μιν 
+λόγος αἱρέει. 
+
+133. Ἡμέρην δὲ ἁπασέων μάλιστα ἐκείνην 
+τιμᾶν νομίξουσι τῇ ἕκαστος ἐγένετο. ἐν ταύτῃ δὲ 
+πλέω δαῖτα τῶν ἀλλέων δικαιεῦσι προτίθεσθαι: 
+ἐν τῇ οἱ εὐδαίμονες αὐτῶν βοῦν καὶ ἵππον καὶ 
+κάμηλον καὶ ὄνον προτιθέαται ὅλους ὀπτοὺς ἐν 
+καμίνοισι, οἱ δὲ πένητες αὐτῶν τὰ λεπτὰ τῶν 
+προβάτων. προτιθέαται. σίτοισι δὲ ὀλίγοισι 
+χρέωνται, ἐπιφορήμασι δὲ πολλοῖσι καὶ οὐκ ἁλέσι" 
+καὶ διὰ τοῦτο φασὶ Πέρσαι τοὺς "Ελληνας σιτεο- 
+μένους πεινῶντας παύεσθαι, ὅτε σφι ἀπὸ δείπνου 
+παραφορέεται οὐδὲν λόγου ἄξιον: εἰ δέ τι mapa- 
+φέροιτο, ἐσθίοντας ἂν οὐ παύεσθαι. οἴνῳ δὲ κάρτα 
+προσκέαται, Καί σφι οὐκ ἐμέσαι ἔξεστι, οὐκὶ 
+οὐρῆσαι ἀντίον ἄλλου. ταύτα μὲν νυν οὕτω 
+φυλάσσεται, μεθυσκόμενοι δὲ ἑώθασι βουλεύεσθαι 
+τὰ σπουδαιέστατα τῶν πρηγμάτων" τὸ ὃ ἂν aby 
+σφι βουλευομένοισι, τοῦτο τῇ ὑστεραίῃ νήφουσι 
+172 
+
+
+BOOK I. 132-133 ý 
+
+
+beast to an open space and then calls on the god, 
+himself wearing a wreath on his cap, of myrtle for 
+choice. Το pray for blessings for himself alone is 
+not lawful for the sacrificer ; rather he prays that it 
+may be well with the king and all the Persians ; for 
+he reckons himself among them. He then cuts the 
+victim limb from limb into portions, and having 
+boiled the flesh spreads the softest grass, trefoil by 
+choice, and places all of it on this. When he has 
+so disposed it a Magian comes near and chants over 
+it the song of the birtlr of the gods, as the Persian 
+tradition relates it; for no sacrifice can be offered 
+without a Magian. Then after a little while the 
+sacrificer carries away the flesh and uses it as he 
+pleases. 
+
+133. The day which every man most honours is 
+his own birthday. On this he thinks it right to 
+serve a more abundant meal than on other days; 
+before the rich are set oxen or horses or camels 
+or asses, roasted whole in ovens; the poorer serve 
+up the lesser kinds of cattle. Their courses are 
+few, the dainties that follow are many and not 
+all served together. This is why the Persians say 
+of the Greeks, that they rise from table still hungry, 
+because not much dessert is set before them: were 
+this too given to the Greek (say the Persians) 
+he would never cease eating. They are greatly 
+given to wine; none may vomit or make water in 
+another's presence. This then is prohibited among 
+them. Moreover it is their custom to deliberate 
+about the gravest matters when they are drunk; 
+and what they approve in their counsels is proposed 
+to them the next day by the master of the house 
+where they deliberate, when they are now sober 
+
+
+173 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+προτιθεῖ ὁ στέγαρχος, ἐν τοῦ ἂν ἐόντες βουλεύων- 
+ται, καὶ ἣν μὲν ἅδῃ καὶ νήφουσι, χρέωνται αὐτῷ, 
+ἣν δὲ μὴ Gdn, μετιεῖσι. τὰ δ᾽ ἂν νήφοντες mpo- 
+βουλεύσωνται, μεθυσκόμενοι ἐπιδιαγινώσκουσι. 
+
+134. Ἐντυγχάνοντες © ἀλλήλοισι ἐν τῆσι 
+ὁδοῖσι, τῷδε ἄν τις Stayvoin εἰ ὅμοιοι εἰσὶ οἱ cuv- 
+τυγχάνοντες: ἀντὶ γὰρ τοῦ προσαγορεύειν ἀλλή- 
+λους φιλέουσι τοῖσι στόμασι" ἦν δὲ ᾖ οὕτερος 
+ὑποδεέστερος ὀλίγῳ, τὰς παρειὰς φιλέονται: ἣν 
+δὲ πολλῷ ᾖ οὕτερος ἀγεννέστερος, προσπίπτων 
+προσκυνέει τὸν ἕτερον. τιμῶσι δὲ ἐκ πάντων τοὺς 
+ἄγχιστα ἑωυτῶν οἰκέοντας µετά γε ἑωυτούς, 
+δεύτερα δὲ τοὺς δευτέρους: μετὰ δὲ κατὰ λόγον 
+προβαίνοντες τιμῶσι: ἥκιστα δὲ τοὺς ἑωυτῶν 
+ἑκαστάτω οἰκημένους ἐν τιμῇ ἄγονται, νομίξοντες 
+ἑωυτοὺς εἶναι ἀνθρώπων μακρῷ τὰ πάντα ἀρίσ- 
+τους, τοὺς δὲ ἄλλους κατὰ λόγον] τῆς ἀρετῆς 
+ἀντέχεσθαι, τοὺς δὲ ἑκαστάτω οἰκέοντας ἀπὸ 
+ἑωυτῶν κακίστους εἶναι. ἐπὶ δὲ Μήδων ἀρχόν- 
+των καὶ ἦρχε τὰ ἔθνεα ἀλλήλων, συναπάντων 
+μὲν Μῆδοι καὶ τῶν ἄγχιστα οἰκεόντων σφίσι, 
+οὗτοι δὲ καὶ τῶν ὁμούρων, οἳ δὲ μάλα τῶν ἐχο- 
+μένων, κατὰ τὸν αὐτὸν δὴ λόγον καὶ οἱ Πέρσαι 
+τιμῶσι" προέβαινε γὰρ δὴ τὸ ἔθνος ἄρχον τε καὶ 
+ἐπιτροπεῦον. | 
+
+135. Εεινικὰ δὲ νόμαια Πέρσαι προσίενται 
+ἀνδρῶν μάλιστα. καὶ γὰρ δὴ τὴν Μηδικὴν ἐσθῆτα 
+νομίσαντες τῆς ἑωυτῶν εἶναι καλλίω φορέουσι, 
+καὶ ἐς τοὺς πολέμους τοὺς Αἰγυπτίους θώρηκας" 
+καὶ εὐπαθείας τε παντοδαπὰς πυνθανόμενοι ἐπι- 
+
+
+1 κατὰ λόγον [τῷ λεγομένῳ] Stein.. 
+174 
+
+
+BOOK 1. 133-135 
+
+
+and if being sober they still approve it, they act 
+thereon, but if not, they cast it aside. And when 
+they have taken counsel about a matter when sober, 
+they decide upon it when they are drunk. 
+
+194. When one man meets another in the way, it 
+is easy to see if the two are equals; for then with- 
+out speaking they kiss each other on the lips; if the 
+difference in rank be but little, it is the cheek that is 
+kissed ; if it be great, the humbler bows down and 
+does obeisance to the other. They honour most of 
+all those who dwell nearest them, next those who 
+are next farthest removed, and so going ever onwards 
+they assign honour by this rule ; those who dwell far- 
+thest off they hold least honourable of all; for they 
+deem themselves to be in all regards by far the best of 
+all men, the rest to have but a proportionate claim to 
+merit, till those who dwell farthest away have least 
+merit of all. Under the rule of the Medes one tribe 
+would even govern another; the Medes held sway 
+over all alike and specially over those who dwelt 
+nearest to themselves; these ruled their neighbours, 
+and the neighbours again those who came next to 
+them, on the same plan whereby the Persians assign 
+honour; for according as the Median nation ad- 
+vanced its dominion farther from home, such was the 
+measure of its rule and suzerainty.! 
+
+135. But of all men the Persians most welcome 
+foreign customs, They wear the Median dress, 
+deeming it more beautiful than their own, and the 
+Egyptian cuirass in war. Their luxurious practices 
+
+1 This appears to mean, that the farther off a subject 
+nation is, the less direct is the control exercised by the 
+Medes; on the same principle as that which makes the 
+
+
+Persians hold their subjects in less and less estimation in 
+proportion to their distance from the seat of empire. 
+
+
+175 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τηδεύουσι, καὶ δὴ καὶ ἀπ᾽ “Ἑλλήνων μαθόντες 
+παισὶ μίσγονται. αμέουσι. δὲ ἕκαστος αὐτῶν 
+πολλὰς μὲν κουριδίας γυναῖκας, πολλῷ Ò ἔτι 
+πλεῦνας παλλακὰς κτῶνται. 
+
+196. ᾿Ανδραγαθίη δὲ αὕτη ἀποδέδεκται, μετὰ τὸ 
+μάχεσθαι εἶναι ἀγαθόν, ὃ ὃς ἂν πολλοὺς ἀποδέξῃ 
+παῖδας" τῷ δὲ τοὺς πλείστους ἀποδεικνύντι δῶρα 
+ἐκπέμπει. βασιλεὺς ἀνὰ πᾶν ἔτος. τὸ πολλὸν δ᾽ 
+ἡγέαται ἰσχυρὸν εἶναι. παιδεύουσι δὲ τοὺς παῖδας 
+ἀπὸ πενταέτεος ἀρξάμενοι μέχρι εὐκοσαέτεος 
+μοῦνα, ἱππεύειν καὶ τοξεύειν καὶ ἠληθίζεσθαι 
+πρὶν δὲ ἢ πενταέτης γένηται, οὐκ ἀπικνέεται ἐς 
+ὄψιν τῷ πατρί, ἀλλὰ παρὰ τῆσι γυναιξὶ δίαιταν 
+ἔχει. τοῦδε δὲ εἵνεκα τοῦτο οὕτω ποιέεται, ἶνα ἦν 
+ἀποθάνῃ τρεφόμενος, μηδεμίαν ἄσην τῷ πατρὶ 
+προσβάλῃ. 
+
+191. Αἰνέω μέν νυν τόνδε τὸν νόμον, αἰνέω δὲ 
+καὶ τόνδε, τὸ μὴ μιῆς αἰτίης εἵνεκα μήτε αὐτὸν 
+τὸν βασιλέα μηδένα φονεύειν, μήτε τῶν ἄλλων 
+Περσέων, μηδένα τῶν ἑωυτοῦ οἰκετέων ἐπὶ μιῇ 
+αἰτίῃ ἀνήκεστον πάθος ἔρδειν" ἀλλὰ λογισάμενος 
+ἦν εὑρίσκῃ πλέω τε καὶ μέξω τὰ ἀδικήματα. ἐόντα 
+τῶν ὑπουργημάτων, οὕτω τῷ θυμῷ χρᾶται. ἀπο- 
+κτεῖναι δὲ οὐδένα κω λέγουσι τὸν ἑωυτοῦ πατέρα 
+οὐδὲ μητέρα, ἀλλὰ ὀκόσα ἤδη τοιαῦτα ἐγένετο, 
+πᾶσαν ἀνάγκην φασὶ ἀναξητεόμενα ταῦτα ἀνευρε- 
+θῆναι 1j ἤτοι ὑποβολιμαῖα ἐ ἐόντα ἦ μοιχίδια" οὗ γὰρ 
+δή φασι οἰκὸς εἶναι τόν γε ἀληθέως τοκέα ὑπὸ τοῦ 
+ἑωυτοῦ παιδὸς ἀποθνήσκειν. 
+
+138. "Acca δέ σφι ποιέειν οὐκ ἔξεστι, ταῦτα 
+οὐδὲ λέγειν ἔξεστι. αἴσχιστον δὲ αὐτοῖσι τὸ ψεύ- 
+δεσθαι νενόμισται, δεύτερα δὲ τὸ ὀφείλειν χρέος, 
+
+
+176 
+
+
+BOOK I. 135-138 
+
+
+are of all kinds, and all borrowed; the Greeks 
+taught them unnatural vices. Every Persian marries 
+many lawful wives, and keeps still more concubines. 
+
+136. After valour in battle it is most reckoned as 
+manly merit to show the greatest number of sons: the 
+king sends gifts yearly to him who can show most. 
+Numbers, they hold, are strength. They educate 
+their boys from five to twenty years old, and teach 
+them three things only, riding and archery and truth- 
+telling. A boy is not seen by his father before he is 
+five years old, but lives with the women: the reason 
+of this is that, if the boy should die in the time of 
+his rearing, the father may suffer no dolour. 
+
+137. This is a law which I praise; and it is a 
+praiseworthy law too which suffers not the king 
+himself to slay any man for one offence, nor any 
+other Persian for one offence to do incurable hurt to 
+one of his servants. Not till reckoning shows that 
+the offender's wrongful acts are more and greater than 
+his services may a man give vent to his anger. They 
+say that none has ever yet killed his father or mother; 
+when suchlike deeds have been done, it cannot be 
+but that on inquest made the doer is shown to be 
+a child falsely substituted or born of a concubine ; 
+for it is not to be believed (say they) that a son 
+should kill his true parent. 
+
+198. Moreover of what they may not do neither 
+may they speak. They hold lying to be foulest 
+of all and next to that debt; for which they have 
+
+
+177 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+πολλῶν μὲν καὶ ἄλλων εἵνεκα, μάλιστα δὲ avay- 
+καίην φασὶ εἶναι τὸν ὀφείλοντα καί τι ψεῦδος 
+λέγειν. ὃς ἂν δὲ τῶν ἀστῶν λέπρην ἢ λεύκην 
+ἔχη, ἐς πόλιν οὗτος οὐ κατέρχεται οὐδὲ συμμίσ- 
+γεται τοῖσι ἄλλοισι Πέρσησι' φασὶ δέ μιν ἐς τὸν 
+ἥλιον ἁμαρτόντα τι ταῦτα ἔχειν. ξεῖνον δὲ πάντα 
+τὸν λαμβανόμενον ὑπὸ τουτέων πολλοὶ ἐξελαύ- 
+νουσι ἐκ τῆς χώρης, καὶ τὰς λευκὰς περιστεράς, 
+τὴν αὐτὴν αἰτίην ἐπιφέροντες. ἐς ποταμὸν 
+δὲ οὔτε ἐνουρέουσι οὔτε ἐμπτύουσι, οὐ χεῖρας 
+ἐναπονίζονται, οὐδὲ ἄλλον οὐδένα περιορῶσι, 
+ἀλλὰ σέβονται ποταμοὺς μάλιστα. 
+
+199. Καὶ τόδε ἄλλο σφι ὧδε συμπέπτωκε γίνε- 
+σθαι, τὸ Πέρσας μὲν αὐτοὺς λέληθε, ἡμέας μέντοι 
+ov τὰ οὐνόματά σφι ἐόντα ὅμοια τοῖσι σώμασι 
+καὶ τῇ μεγαλοπρεπείῃ τελευτῶσι πάντα ἐς τὠυτὸ 
+γράμμα, τὸ Δωριέες μὲν σὰν καλέουσι, Ίωνες δὲ 
+σίγμα: ἐς τοῦτο διζήμενος εὑρήσεις τελευτῶντα 
+τῶν Περσέων τὰ οὐνόματα, ov τὰ μὲν τὰ δ᾽ οὔ, 
+ἀλλὰ πάντα ὁμοίως. 
+
+140. Ταῦτα μὲν ἀτρεκέως ἔχω περὶ αὐτῶν εἰδὼς 
+εἰπεῖν: τάδε μέντοι ὡς κρυπτόμενα λέγεται καὶ οὐ 
+σαφηνέως περὶ τοῦ ἀποθανόντος, ὡς οὐ πρότερον 
+θάπτεται ἀνδρὸς Πέρσεω ὁ νέκυς πρὶν ἂν ὑπ' 
+ὄρνιθος ἢ κυνὸς ἑλκυσθῆ. Μάγους μὲν γὰρ ἆτρε- 
+κέως οἶδα ταῦτα ποιέοντας: ἐμφανέως γὰρ δὴ 
+ποιεῦσι. κατακηρώσαντες δὲ ὧν τὸν νέκυν Πέρ- 
+σαι γῇ κρύπτουσι. Μάγοι δὲ κεχωρίδαται πολ- 
+λὸν τῶν τε ἄλλων ἀνθρώπων καὶ τῶν ἐν Αἰγύπτ 
+ἱρέων. ot μὲν γὰρ ἀγνεύουσι ἔμψυχον μηδὲν rrei- 
+νειν, εἰ μὴ ὅσα θύουσι" οἱ δὲ δὴ Μάγοι αὐτοχειρίῃ 
+πάντα πλὴν κυνὸς καὶ ἀνθρώπου κτείνουσι, κ 
+178 
+
+
+BOOK I. 138-140 
+
+
+many other reasons, but this in especial, that the 
+debtor must needs (so they say) speak some falsehood. 
+The citizen who has leprosy or the white sickness 
+may not come into a town or consort with other Per- 
+sians. They say that he is so afflicted because he has 
+sinned in some wise against the sun. Many drive 
+every stranger, who takes such a disease, out of the 
+country; and so they do to white doves, for the 
+reason aforesaid. Rivers they chiefly reverence; 
+they will neither make water nor spit nor wash their 
+hands therein, nor suffer anyone so to do. 
+
+139. There is another thing which always happens 
+among them; we have noted it though the Persians 
+have not: their names, which agree with the nature 
+of their persons and their nobility, all end in the 
+same letter, that which the Dorians call san, and the 
+Jonians sigma; you shall find, if you search, that not 
+some but all Persian names alike end in this letter. 
+
+140. So much I can say of them of my own certain 
+knowledge. But there are other matters concerning 
+the dead which are secretly and obscurely told—how 
+the dead bodies of Persians are not buried before 
+they have been mangled by bird or dog. That this 
+is the way of the Magians I know for a certainty ; 
+for they do not conceal the practice. But this is cer- 
+tain, that before the Persians bury the. body in earth 
+they embalm it in wax. These Magians are much 
+unlike to the priests of Egypt, as to all other men: 
+for the priests count it sacrilege to kill aught that 
+lives, save what they sacrifice ; but the Magians kill 
+with their own hands every creature, save only dogs 
+
+
+179 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἀγώνισμα μέγα τοῦτο ποιεῦνται, κτείνοντες ὁμοίως 
+μύρμηκάς τε καὶ ὄφις καὶ τἆλλα ἑρπετὰ καὶ me- 
+τεινά. καὶ ἀμφὶ μὲν τῷ νόμῳ τούτῳ ἐχέτω ὡς 
+καὶ ἀρχὴν ἐνομίσθη, ἄνειμι δὲ ἐπὶ τὸν πρότερον 
+λόγον. 
+
+141. Ἴωνες δὲ καὶ Αἰολέες, ὡς οἱ Λυδοὶ τάχιστα 
+κατεστράφατὀ ὑπὸ Περσέων, ἔπεμπον ἀγγέλους 
+ἐς Σάρδις παρὰ Κῦρον, ἐθέλοντες ἐπὶ τοῖσι aù- 
+τοῖσι εἶναι τοῖσι καὶ Κροίσῳ ἧσαν κατήκοοι. ὃ 
+δὲ ἀκούσας αὐτῶν τὰ προΐσχοντο ἔλεξέ σφι 
+λόγον, ἄνδρα φὰς αὐλητὴν ἰδόντα ἰχθῦς ἐν τῇ 
+θαλάσσῃ αὐλέειν, δοκέοντα σφέας ἐξελεύσεσθαι 
+ἐς γῆν" ὡς δὲ ψευσθῆναι τῆς ἐλπίδος, λαβεῖν 
+ἀμφίβληστρον καὶ περιβαλεῖν τε πλῆθος πολλὸν 
+τῶν ἰχθύων καὶ ἐξειρύσαι, ἰδόντα δὲ παλλομένους 
+εἰπεῖν ἄρα αὐτὸν πρὸς τοὺς ἰχθῦς “ Παύεσθέ μοι 
+ὀρχεόμενοι, ἐπεὶ οὐδ᾽ ἐμέο αὐλέοντος ἠθέλετε 
+ἐκβαίνειν ὀρχεόμενοι.; Κῦρος μὲν τοῦτον τὸν 
+λόγον τοῖσι Ἴωσι καὶ τοῖσι Αἰολεῦσι τῶνδε εἵνεκα 
+ἔλεξε, ὅτι δὴ οἱ Ἴωνες πρότερον αὐτοῦ Κύρου 
+δεηθέντος δι ἀγγέλων ἀπίστασθαι σφέας ἀπὸ 
+Κροίσου οὐκ ἐπείθοντο, τότε δὲ κατεργασμένων 
+τῶν πρηγμάτων ἦσαν ἕτοιμοι πείθεσθαι Κύρῳ. ὃ 
+μὲν δὴ ὀργῇ ἐχόμενος ἔλεγέ σφι τάδε Ἴωνες δὲ 
+e y : » / , ` ῃ 
+ὡς ἤκουσαν τούτων ἀνενειχθέντων ἐς τὰς TOMAS, 
+τείχεά τε περιεβάλοντο ἕκαστοι καὶ συνελέγοντο 
+ἐς Πανιώνιον οἱ ἄλλοι, πλὴν Μιλησίων' πρὸς 
+μούνους γὰρ τούτους ὅρκιον Κῦρος ἐποιήσατο ἐπ᾽ 
+οἷσί περ ὁ Λυδός. τοῖσι δὲ λοιποῖσι Ἴωσι ἔδοξε 
+κοινῷ λόγῳ πέμπειν ἀγγέλους ἐς Σπάρτην δεησο- 
+μένους Ἴωσε τιμωρέειν. 
+
+
+1δο 
+
+
+BOOK I. 140-141 
+
+
+and men; they kill all alike, ants and snakes, creeping 
+and flying things, and take much pride therein. 
+Leaving this custom to be such as it has been from 
+the first,! I return now to my former story. 
+
+141. As soon as the Lydians had been subdued by 
+the Persians, the Ionians and Aeolians sent messen- 
+gers to Cyrus, offering to be his subjects on the same 
+terms as those which they had under Croesus. 
+Having heard what they proposed, Cyrus told them 
+a story. Once, he said, there was a flute-player who 
+saw fishes in the sea and played upon his flute, 
+thinking that so they would come out on to the land. 
+Being disappointed of his hope, he took a net and 
+gathered in and drew out a great multitude of the 
+fishes; and seeing them leaping, “You had best,” 
+said he, “ cease from your dancing now ; you would not 
+come out and dance then, when I played to you.” 
+The reason why Cyrus told the story to the Ionians 
+and Aeolians was that the Ionians, who were ready to 
+obey him when the victory was won, had before 
+refused when he sent a message asking them to revolt 
+from Croesus. So he answered them in his anger. 
+But when the message came to the Ionians in their 
+cities, they fortified themselves severally with walls, 
+and assembled in the Panionion,? all except the 
+Milesians, with whom alone Cyrus had made a treaty 
+on the same terms as that which they had with the 
+Lydians. The rest of the Ionians resolved to send 
+envoys in the name of them all to Sparta, to ask 
+help for the Ionians. 
+
+1 Lit. “let matters stand concerning this custom as it 
+was first instituted”: $.e., apparently, ‘‘let us be content 
+with knowing that this custom is as it has ben from its 
+origin. 
+
+3 See ch. 148. 
+
+181 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+142. Οἱ δὲ Ἴωνες οὗτοι, τῶν καὶ τὸ Πανιώνιον 
+ἐστί, τοῦ μὲν οὐρανοῦ καὶ τῶν ὡρέων ἐν τῷ καλ- 
+λίστῳ ἐτύγχανον ἱδρυσάμενοι πόλιας πάντων 
+ἀνθρώπων τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν". οὔτε γὰρ. τὰ ἄνω αὖ- 
+τῆς χωρία τὠυτὸ ποιέει, τῇ ᾿Ιωνίῃ οὔτε τὰ Κάτω 
+οὔτε τὰ πρὸς τὴν ἠῶ οὔτε τὰ πρὸς τὴν ἑσπέρην, ᾽ 
+τὰ μὲν. ὑπὸ τοῦ ψυχροῦ τε καὶ ὑγροῦ πιεζόµενα, 
+τὰ δὲ Ù ὑπὸ τοῦ θερμοῦ τε καὶ αὐχμώδεος. γλῶσ- 
+σαν δὲ οὐ τὴν αὐτὴν οὗτοι νενομίκασι, ἀλλὰ τρό- 
+πους τέσσερας παραγωγέων. Μίλητος μὲν αὐτέων 
+πρώτη κέεται πόλις πρὸς μεσαμβρίην, μετὰ δὲ 
+Μυοῦς τε καὶ Πριήνη. αὗται μὲν ἐν τῇ Kapin 
+κατοίκηνται κατὰ ταὐτὰ διαλεγόμεναι σφίσι, αἶδε 
+δὲ ἐν τῇ Λυδίῃ, Ἔφεσος Κολοφὼν Λέβεδος Τέως 
+Κλαξομεναὶ Φώκαια' αὗται δὲ αἱ πόλιες τῇσι 
+πρότερον λεχθείσῃσι ὁμολογέουσι κατὰ γλῶσσαν 
+οὐδέν, σφίσι δὲ ὁμοφωνέουσι. ἔτι δὲ τρεῖς ὑπό- 
+λοιποι Ἰάδες πόλιες, τῶν αἱ δύο μὲν νήσους οἶκέ- 
+arat, Σάμον τε καὶ Χίον, 5 δὲ µία ἐν τῇ ἠπείρῳ 
+ἵδρυται, ᾿Ερυθραί.. Χῖοι μέν vvv καὶ ᾿Ερυθραῖοι 
+κατὰ τὠυτὸ διαλέγονται, Σάμιοι, δὲ ἐπ᾿ ἑωυτῶν 
+μοῦνοι. οὗτοι χαρακτῆρες γλώσσης τέσσερες 
+γίνονται. 
+
+148. Τούτων δὴ ὧν τῶν Ἰώνων oí Μιλήσιοι μὲν 
+ἦσαν ἐν σκέπῃ τοῦ φόβου, .ὅρκιον. ποιησάμενοι, 
+τοῖσι δὲ αὐτῶν. νησιώτῃσι ἦν δεινὸν οὐδέν" οὔτε 
+γὰρ Φοίνικες ἦσάν κω Περσέων κατήκοοι οὔτε 
+αὐτοὶ οἱ ᾿Πέρσαι ναυβάται. ἀπεσχίσθησαν δὲ 
+ἀπὸ τῶν ἄλλων Ἰώνων οὗτοι κατ᾽ ἄλλο μὲν οὐδέν, 
+ἀσθενέος δὲ ἐόντος τοῦ παντὸς τότε Ἑλληνικοῦ 
+
+
+1 οὔτε τὰ πρὸς... ἑσπέρην bracketed by Stein. 
+182 
+
+
+BOOK I. 142-143 
+
+
+142. Now these Ionians, who possessed the 
+Panionion, had set their cities in places more 
+favoured by skies and seasons than any country 
+known to us. For neither to the north of them 
+nor to the south nor to the east nor to the west 
+does the land accomplish the same effect as Ionia, 
+being afflicted here by the cold and wet, there by 
+the heat and drought. "They use not all the same 
+speech but four different dialects. Miletus lies 
+farthest south among them, and next to it come 
+Myus and Priene; these are settlements in Caria, 
+and they use a common language; Ephesus, Colo- 
+phon, Lebedos, Teos, Clazomenae, Phocaea, all of 
+them being in Lydia, have a language in common 
+which is wholly different from the speech of the 
+three cities aforementioned. There are yet three 
+Ionian cities, two of them situate on the islands of 
+Samos and Chios, and one, Erythrae, on the main- 
+land; the Chians and Erythraeans speak alike, but 
+the Samians have a language which is their own 
+and none other's. It is thus seen that there are 
+four fashions of speech. 
+
+145. Among these Ionians, the Milesians were 
+sheltered from the danger (for they had made a 
+treaty), and the islanders among them had nothing 
+to fear; for the Phoenicians were not yet subjects 
+of the Persians, nor were the Persians themselves 
+shipmen. But they of Asia were cut off from the 
+rest of the Ionians in no other way save as I shall 
+show. The whole Hellenic race was then but small, 
+
+
+183 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+γένεος, πολλῷ δὴ ἦν ἀσθενέστατον τῶν ἐθνέων τὸ 
+Ἰωνικὸν καὶ λόγου ἐλαχίστου: ὅτι γὰρ μὴ ᾿Αθῆ- 
+ναι, ἣν οὐδὲν ἄλλο πόλισμα λόγιμον. οἱ μέν νυν 
+ἄλλοι Ἴωνες καὶ οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι ἔφυγον τὸ οὔνομα, 
+οὐ βουλόμενοι Ἴωνες κεκλῆσθαι, ἀλλὰ καὶ νῦν 
+φαίνονταί μοι οἱ πολλοὶ αὐτῶν ἐπαισχύνεσθαι τῷ 
+οὐνόματι: αἱ δὲ δυώδεκα πόλιες αὗται τῷ τε οὐνό- 
+ματι ἠγάλλοντο καὶ ἱρὸν ἱδρύσαντο ἐπὶ σφέων 
+αὐτέων, τῷ οὔνομα ἔθεντο ἰανιώνιον, ἐβουλεύ- 
+σαντο δὲ αὐτοῦ μεταδοῦναι μηδαμοῖσι ἄλλοισι 
+Iy 7 IAI 2 / X , ^ e 
+Ιώνων (οὐδ᾽ ἐδεήθησαν δὲ οὐδαμοὶ μετασχεῖν ὅτι 
+μὴ Σμυρναῖοι) 144. κατά περ οἱ ἐκ τῆς mevta- 
+πόλιος νῦν χώρης Δωριέες, πρότερον δὲ ἑξαπόλιος 
+τῆς αὐτῆς ταύτης καλεομένης, φυλάσσονται ὧν 
+μηδαμοὺς ἐσδέξασθαι τῶν προσοίκων Δωριέων ἐς 
+τὸ Τριοπικὸν ἱρόν, ἀλλὰ καὶ σφέων αὐτῶν τοὺς 
+περὶ τὸ ἱρὸν ἀνομήσαντας ἐξεκλήισαν τῆς μετοχῆς. 
+ἐν γὰρ τῷ ἀγῶνι τοῦ Τριοπίου ᾿Απόλλωνος ἐτί- 
+θεσαν τὸ πάλαι τρίποδας χαλκέους τοῖσι νικῶσι, 
+καὶ τούτους χρῆν τοὺς λαμβάνοντας ἐκ τοῦ ἱροῦ 
+μὴ ἐκφέρειν ἀλλ᾽ αὐτοῦ ἀνατιθέναι τῷ θεῷ. ἀνὴρ 
+ὧν '᾿Αλεκαρνησσεύς, τῷ οὔνομα ἦν ᾿Αγασικλέης, 
+νικήσας τὸν νόμον κατηλόγησε, φέρων δὲ πρὸς τὰ 
+ἑωυτοῦ οἰκία προσεπασσάλευσε τὸν τρίποδα. διὰ 
+ταύτην τὴν αἰτίην αἱ πέντε πόλιες, Λίνδος καὶ 
+Ἰήλυσός τε καὶ Κάμειρος καὶ Kas τε καὶ Κνίδος 
+ἐξεκλήισαν τῆς μετοχῆς τὴν ἕκτην πόλιν AM- 
+καρνησσόν, τούτοισι μὲν νυν οὗτοι ταύτην τὴν 
+ζημίην ἐπέθηκαν. 
+
+145. Δυώδεκα δέ µοι δοκέουσι πόλιας ποιή- 
+σασθαι οἱ Ἴωνες καὶ οὐκ ἐθελῆσαι πλεῦνας ἐσδέ- 
+ξασθαι τοῦδε εἵνεκα, ὅτι καὶ ὅτε ἐν Πελοποννήσῳ 
+
+
+184 
+
+
+BOOK I. 143-145 
+
+
+and the lcast of all its parts, and the least regarded, 
+was the lonian stock; for saving Athens it had no 
+considerable city. Now the Athenians and the rest 
+would not be called Ionians, but spurned the name; 
+nay, even now the greater number of them seem to 
+me to be ashamed of it; but the twelve cities afore- 
+said gloried in this name, and founded a holy place 
+for themselves which they called the Panionion, and 
+agreed among them to allow no other Ionians to use 
+it (nor indeed did any save the men of Smyrna ask 
+to be admitted) ; 144. even as the Dorians af what is 
+now the country of the * Five Cities" —the same being 
+formerly called the country of the “Six Cities "— 
+forbid the admitting of any of the neighbouring 
+Dorians to the Triopian temple, nay, they barred 
+from sharing the use of it even those of their own 
+body who had broken the temple law. For long 
+ago in the games in honour of Triopian Apollo 
+they offered certain bronze tripods to the victors; 
+and those who won these must not carry them away 
+from the temple but dedicate them there to the 
+god. Now a man of Halicarnassus called Agasicles, 
+being a winner, disregarded this law, and carrying 
+the tripod away nailed it to the wall of his own 
+house. For this offence the five cities, Lindus, Ialysus, 
+Camirus, Cos, and Cnidus, forbade the sixth city, 
+-Halicarnassus, to share in the use of the temple. 
+Such was the penalty imposed on the Halicarnassians. 
+145. As for the Ionians, the reason why they made 
+twelve cities and would admit no more was in my 
+judgment this, that there were twelve divisions of 
+185 
+
+
+k» 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οἴκεον, δυώδεκα ἦν αὐτῶν μέρεα, κατά περ νῦν 
+᾿Αχαιῶν τῶν ἐξελασάντων Ἴωνας δυώδεκα ἐστὶ 
+μέρεα, Πελλήνη μέν Ye “πρώτη πρὸς Σικυῶνος, 
+μετὰ δὲ Αἴγειρα καὶ Αἰγαί, ἐν τῇ Κρᾶθις ποταμὸς 
+ἀείναος ἐστί, aw ὅτευ ὁ ἐν Ἱταλίῃ ποταμὸς τὸ 
+οὔνομα ἔσχε, καὶ Βοῦρα καὶ Ελίκη, ἐς τὴν κατέ- 
+φυγον Ἴωνες ὑπὸ ᾿Αχαιῶν μάχῃ ἑσσωθέντες, καὶ 
+Αἴγιον καὶ Pec καὶ Πατρέες καὶ Φαρέες καὶ 
+Ὄλενος, ἐν τῷ Πεῖρος ποταμὸς μέγας ἐστί, καὶ 
+Δύμη καὶ Τριταιεες, of μοῦνοι τούτων μεσόγαιοι 
+οἰκέουσι. ταῦτα δυώδεκα μέρεα νῦν ᾿Αχαιῶν ἐστὶ 
+καὶ τότο γε Ἰώνων ἦν. 
+
+146. Τούτων δὴ εἵνεκα καὶ οἱ Ἴωνες δυώδεκα 
+πόλιας ἐποιήσαντο" ἐπεὶ ὥς yé τι μᾶλλον οὗτοι 
+ν 3 ^ 9) 3 r ^ , [4 . 
+]ωνες εἰσὶ τῶν ἄλλων Ἰώνων ἡ κάλλιόν τι γεγὸ- 
+νασι, μωρίη πολλὴ λέγειν" τῶν "Αβαντες μὲν ἐξ 
+Εὐβοίης εἰσὶ οὐκ ἐλαχίστη μοῖρα, τοῖσι ᾿Ιωνίης 
+μέτα οὐδὲ τοῦ οὐνόματος οὐδέν, Μινύαι δὲ Ὄρχο- 
+μένιοί σφι ἀναμεμίχαται καὶ Καδμεῖοι καὶ Δρύ- 
+οπες καὶ Φωκέες ἀποδάσμιοι καὶ Μολοσσοὶ καὶ 
+᾿Αρκάδες Πελασγοὶ καὶ Δωριέες ᾿Επιδαύριοι, 
+ἄλλα τε ἔθνεα πολλὰ ἀναμεμίχαται' οἱ δὲ αὐτῶν 
+ἀπὸ τοῦ πρυτανηίου τοῦ ᾿Αθηναίων ὁρμηθέντες 
+καὶ νομίζοντες γενναιότατοι εἶναι Ιώνων, οὗτοι δὲ 
+οὐ γυναῖκας ἠγάγοντο ἐς τὴν ἀποικίην ἀλλὰ Καεί- 
+pas ἔσχον, τῶν ἐφόνευσαν τοὺς γονέας. διὰ τοῦ- 
+τον δὲ τὸν φόνον αἱ γυναῖκες αὗται νόμον θέμεναι 
+σφίσι αὐτῇσι ὅρκους ἐπήλασαν καὶ παρέδοσαν 
+τῆσι θυγατράσι, μή κοτε ὁμοσιτῆσαι τοῖσι ἀνδρά- 
+σι μηδὲ οὐνόματι βῶσαι τὸν ἑωυτῆς ἄνδρα, τοῦδε 
+εἵνεκα ὅτι ἐφόνευσαν σφέων τοὺς πατέρας καὶ 
+
+
+186 
+
+
+BOOK I. 145-146 
+
+
+them when they dwelt in Peloponnesus, just as there 
+are twelve divisions of the Achaeans who drove the 
+Ionians out, Pellene nearest to Sicyon, then Aegira 
+and Aegae, where is the never-failing river Crathis, 
+from which the river in Italy took its name; Bura 
+and Helice, whither the Ionians fled when they were 
+worsted in battle by the Achaeans; Aegion, Rhype, 
+Patrae, Phareae, and Olenus, where is the great 
+river Pirus; Dyme and Tritaeae, the only inland 
+city of all these ; these were the twelve divisions of 
+the Ionians, as they are now of the Achaeans. 
+
+146. For this reason the Ionians too made twelve 
+cities, and for no other; for it were but foolishness 
+to say that these are more truly Ionian or better born 
+than the other Ionians ; seeing that not the least part 
+of them are Abantes from Euboea, who are not Ionians 
+even in name, and that there are mingled with them 
+Minyans of Orchomenus, Cadmeans, Dryopians, Pho- 
+cian seceders from their nation, Molossians, Pelasgian 
+Arcadians, Dorians of Epidaurus, and many other 
+tribes ; and as for those who came from the very town 
+hall of Athens and deem themselves the best born 
+of the Ionians, these did not bring wives with them 
+totheir settlements, but married Carian women whose 
+parents they had put to death. For this slaughter, 
+these women made a custom and bound themselves 
+by oath (and enjoined the same on their daughters) 
+that none would sit at meat with her husband nor 
+call him by his name, because the men had married 
+
+
+187 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἄνδρας καὶ παῖδας καὶ ἔπειτα ταῦτα ποιήσαντες 
+αὐτῆσι συνοίκεον. 
+
+141. Ταῦτα δὲ ἦν γινόμενα ἐν Μιλήτῳ. βασι- 
+λέας δὲ ἐστήσαντο οἳ μὲν αὐτῶν Λυκίους ἀπὸ 
+Γλαύκου τοῦ Ἱππολόχου γεγονότας, οἳ δὲ Καύ- 
+κωνας Πυλίους ἀπὸ Κόδρου τοῦ Μελάνθου, οἳ δὲ 
+καὶ συναμφοτέρους. ἀλλὰ γὰρ περιέχονται τοῦ 
+οὐνόματος. μᾶλλόν τι τῶν ἄλλων Ἰώνων, ἔστωσαν 
+5 καὶ οἱ καθαρῶς γεγονότες Ἴωνες. εἰσὶ δὲ 
+πάντες Ἴωνες ὅσοι ἀπ᾽ ᾿Αθηνέων γεγόνασι καὶ 
+᾿Απατούρια à ἄγουσι ὁρτήν", ἄγουσι δὲ πάντες πλὴν 
+᾿Εφεσίων καὶ Κολοφωνίων: οὗτοι γὰρ μοῦνοι 
+Ἰώνων οὐκ ἄγουσι ᾿Απατούρια, καὶ οὗτοι κατὰ 
+φόνου τινὰ σκῆψιν. 
+
+148. Τὸ δὲ Πανιώνιον ἐ ἐστὶ τῆς Μυκάλης χῶρος 
+ἱρὸς πρὸς ἄρκτον τετραμμένος, κοινῇ ἐξαραιρη- 
+μένος, ὑπὸ ᾿]ώνων Ποσειδέωνι Ἑλικωνίῳ. 7) 
+Μυκάλη ἐστὶ τῆς ἠπείρου ἄκρη πρὸς ξέφυρον 
+ἄνεμον κατήκουσα άμῳ καταντίον, ἐς τὴν συλ- 
+λεγόμενοι ἀπὸ τῶν πολίων Ἴωνες ἄγεσκον ὁρτὴν 
+τῇ ἔθεντο οὔνομα Πανιώνια. [πεπόνθασι δὲ οὔτι 
+μοῦναι αἱ ᾿Ιώνων ὁ ὁρταὶ τοῦτο, ἀλλὰ καὶ Ἑλλήνων 
+πάντων ὁμοίως πᾶσαι ἐς τὠυτὸ γράμμα τελευτῶσι, 
+κατά περ τῶν Περσέων τὰ οὐνόματα.] , 
+
+149. Αὗται μὲν αἱ Ἰάδες πόλιες εἰσί, αἶδε δὲ 
+αἱ Αἰολίδες, Κύμη ἡ ὩΦρικωνὶς καλεομένη, Λή- 
+ρισαι, Νέον τεῖχος, Τῆμνος, Κίλλα, Νότιον, 
+
+
+1 The bracketed words are clearly out of place. Probably 
+they are & marginal note with reference to some commen- 
+tator’s assertion that the a-ending of names of festivals was 
+specially Ionic. 
+
+
+188 
+
+
+BOOK I. 146-149 
+
+
+them after slaying their fathers and husbands and 
+Sons. 
+
+147. This happened at Miletus. And for kings 
+some of them chose Lycian descendants of Glaucus 
+son of Hippolochus, and some Caucones of Pylus, 
+descendants of Codrus son of Melanthus, and some 
+both. Yet seeing that they set more store by the 
+name than the rest of the Ionians, let it be granted 
+that those of pure birth are Ionians; and all are 
+Ionians who are of Athenian descent and keep the 
+feast Apaturia.! All do so keep it, saving the men of 
+Ephesus and Colophon; these are the only Ionians 
+who do not keep it, and these by reasen, they say, of 
+a certain deed of blood. 
+
+148. The Panionion is a sacred ground in Mycale, 
+facing the north; it was set apart for Poseidon of 
+Helicon by the joint will of the Ionians. Mycale is 
+a western promontory of the mainland opposite to 
+Samos; the lonians were wont to assemble there 
+from their cities and keep the festival to which they 
+gave the name of Panionia. [The names of all the 
+Greek festivals, not the Ionian alone, end alike in 
+the same letter, just as do the names of the 
+Persians.] 
+
+149. I have now told of the Ionian cities. The 
+Aeolian cities are these:—Cyme (called * Phri- 
+conian"),? Lerisae, “the New Fort," Temnos, Cilla, 
+
+1 A festival celebrated at Athens and most Ionian cities by 
+the members of each “ phratria" or clan, lasting three days; 
+on the last day grown-up youths were formally admitted as 
+members of the phratria. The festival was held in the 
+month Pyanepsion (late October and early November). 
+
+3 Perhaps so called from a mountain in Aeolis, Phricion, 
+
+
+near which the Aeolians had been settled before their migra- 
+tion to Asia. 
+
+
+189 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Αἰγιρόεσσα, Πιτάνη, Αἰγαῖαι, Μύρινα, Γρύνεια. 
+. Ld b 3 , [4 € 9? ^ 5 4 a 
+αὗται ἕνδεκα Αἰολέων πόλιες αἱ apxatat’ µία yap 
+σφέων παρελύθη Σμύρνη ὑπὸ Ἰώνων' ἦσαν γὰρ 
+καὶ αὗται δυώδεκα αἱ ἐν τῇ ἠπείρῳ. οὗτοι δὲ οἱ 
+Αἰολέες χώρην μὲν ἔτυχον κτίσαντες ἀμείνω 
+
+Ἰώνων, ὡρέων δὲ ἥκουσαν οὐκ ὁμοίως. 
+
+150, Σμύρνην δὲ ὧδε ἀπέβαλον Αἰολέες. Κολο- 
+φωνίους ἄνδρας στάσι ἑσσωθέντας καὶ ἐκπεσόν- 
+
+9 ^ /, e , N ε 
+
+τας ἐκ τῆς πατρίδος ὑπεδέξαντο. μετὰ δὲ οἱ 
+φυγάδες τῶν Κολοφωνίων φυλάξαντες τοὺς Σμυρ- 
+ναίους ὁρτὴν ἔξω τείχεος ποιευμένους Διονύσῳ, 
+τὰς πύλας ἀποκληίσαντες ἔσχον τὴν πόλιν. 
+βοηθησάντων δὲ πάντων Αἰολέων, ὁμολογίῃ ἐχρή- 
+σαντο τὰ ἔπιπλα ἀποδόντων τῶν Ἰώνων ἐκλιπεῖν 
+Σμύρνην Αἰολέας, ποιησάντων δὲ ταῦτα Σμυρ- 
+ναίων ἐπιδιείλοντο σφέας αἱ ἕνδεκα πόλιες καὶ 
+ἐποιήσαντο σφέων αὐτέων πολιήτας. 
+
+151, Αὗται μέν vvv αἱ ἠπειρώτιδες Αἱολίδες 
+
+8 » ^ 3 ^ X 2 2 / 
+πόλιες, ἔξω τῶν ἐν τῇ Ἴδη οἰκημενέων' κεχωρί- 
+δαται γὰρ αὗται. αἱ δὲ τὰς νήσους ἔχουσαι πέντε 
+
+b / M 2 2 N M ο 
+μὲν πόλιες τὴν Λέσβον νέμονται (τὴν γὰρ ἕκτην 
+3 ^ , > / 3 , > , 
+ἐν τῇ Λέσβῳ οἰκημένην ᾿Αρίσβαν ἠνδραπόδισαν 
+
+^ 297 e / 3 , . ld 
+Μηθυμναῖοι ἐόντας ὁμαίμους), ἐν Τενέδῳ δὲ μία 
+2 ^ 
+οἴκηται πόλις, καὶ ἐν τῇσι Ἕκατον νήσοισι kaXeo- 
+μένησι ἄλλη μία. Λεσβίοισι μέν νυν καὶ Τενε- 
+δίοισι, κατά περ ᾿Ιώνων τοῖσι τὰς νήσους ἔχουσι, 
+ἦν δεινὸν οὐδέν: τῆσι δὲ λοιπῇσι πόλισι ἕαδε 
+^ N ο ^ À . 3 / 
+
+κοινῇ “Iwo. ἕπεσθαι τῇ ἂν οὗτοι ἐξηγέωνται. 
+10ο 
+
+
+BOOK I. 149-151 
+
+
+Notium, Aegiroessa, Pitana, Aegaeae, Myrina, Grynea.! 
+These are the ancient Aeolian cities, eleven in 
+number; these, too, the mainland cities, were once 
+twelve; but one of them, Smyrna, was taken away 
+by the Ionians. These Aeolians had settled where 
+the land was better than the Ionian territory, but the 
+climate was not so good. 
+
+150. Now this is how the Aeolians lost Smyrna. 
+Certain men of Colophon, worsted in civil strife and 
+banished from their country, had been received by 
+them into the town. These Colophonian exiles 
+waited for the time when the men of Smyrna were 
+holding a festival to Dionysus outside the walls; they 
+then shut the gates and so won the city. Then all 
+the Aeolians came to recover it; and an agreement 
+was made, whereby the Aeolians should receive back 
+their movable goods from the Ionians, and quit the 
+city. This being done, the other eleven cities divided 
+the Smyrnaeans among themselves and made them 
+citizens of their own. 
+
+151. These then are the Aeolian cities of the 
+mainland, besides those that are situate on Ida, and 
+are separate. Among those on the islands, five divide 
+Lesbos among them (there was a sixth on Lesobs, 
+Arisba, but its people were enslaved by their kinsfolk 
+of Methymna); there is one on Tenedos, and one 
+again in the * Hundred isles”? as they are called. 
+The men of Lesbos and Tenedos, then, like the 
+Ionian islanders, had nothing to fear. The rest of 
+the cities took counsel together and resolved to 
+follow whither the Ionians should lead. 
+
+1 These places lie between Smyrna and Pergamum, on or near 
+the coast. But Aegiroessa has not been exactly identified. 
+
+
+3 A group of small islands between Lesbos and the main- 
+land. 
+
+
+191 
+
+
+z k 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+169. Ὡς δὲ ἀπίκοντο ἐς τὴν Σπάρτην τῶν 
+
+
+Ἰώνων καὶ Αἰολέων οἱ ἄγγελοι (κατὰ γὰρ δὴ 
+τάχος ἣν ταῦτα πρησσοµενα), εἵλοντο πρὸ πάντων 
+λέγειν τὸν Φωκαέα, τῷ οὔνομα ἦν Πύθερμος. ὃ 
+δὲ πορφύρεόν τε elua περιβαλόμενος, ὡς ἂν 
+πυνθανόμενοι πλεῖστοι συνέλθοιεν Σπαρτιητέων, 
+καὶ καταστὰς ἔλεγε πολλὰ τιμωρέειν ἑωυτοῖσι 
+χρηίζων. Λακεδαιμόνιοι δὲ οὔ κως ἐσήκουον, 
+ἀλλ ἀπέδοξέ σφι μὴ τιμωρέειν Ἴωσι. of μὲν δὴ 
+ἀπαλλάσσοντο, Λακεδαιμόνιοι δὲ (ἀπωσάμενοι 
+τῶν Ἰώνων τοὺς ἀγγέλους! ὅμως “ἀπέστειλαν 
+πεντηκοντέρῳ ἄνδρας, ὡς μὲν ἐμοὶ δοκέει, κατα- 
+σκόπους τῶν τε Κύρου πρηγμάτων καὶ Ἰωνίης. 
+ἀπικόμενοι δὲ οὗτοι ἐς Φώκαιαν ἔπεμπον ἐς 
+Σάρδις σφέων αὐτῶν τὸν δοκιμώτατον, τῷ οὔνομα 
+ἦν Λακρίνης, ἀπερέοντα Κύρῳ Λακεδαιμονίων 
+ῥῆσιν, γῆς τῆς Ἑλλάδος μηδεμίαν πόλιν σινα- 
+μωρέειν, ὡς αὐτῶν οὐ περιοψομένων. 
+
+153. Ταῦτα εἰπόντος τοῦ κήρυκος, λέγεται 
+Κῦρον ἐπειρέσθαι τοὺς παρεόντας οἱ "Ελλήνων 
+τίνες ἐόντες ἄνθρωποι Λακεδαιμόνιοι καὶ κόσοι 
+πλῆθος ταῦτα ἑωυτῷ προαγορεύουσι: πυνθανόμενον 
+δέ μιν εἰπεῖν πρὸς τὸν κήρυκα τὸν Σπαρτιήτην 
+«Οὐκ ἔδεισά κω ἄνδρας τοιούτους, τοῖσι ἐστὶ χῶρος 
+ἐν μέσῃ τῇ πόλι ἀποδεδεγμένος ἐς τὸν συλλεγό- 
+μενοι ἀλλήλους ὀμνύντες ἐξαπατῶσι' τοῖσι, ἣν 
+ἐγὼ ὑγιαίνω, οὐ τὰ Ἰώνων πάθεα ἔσται ἕλλεσχα 
+ἀλλὰ τὰ οἰκήια. ταῦτα ἐς τοὺς πάντας" Ελληνας 
+ἀπέρριψε ὁ Κῦρος τὰ ἔπεα, ὅτι ἀγορὰς στησά- 
+μενοι ὠνῇ τε καὶ πρήσι χρέωνται αὐτοὶ γὰρ οἱ 
+Πέρσαι ἀγορῆσι οὐδὲν ἐώθασι χρᾶσθαι, οὐδέ σφι 
+ἐστὶ τὸ παράπαν ἀγορή. μετὰ ταῦτα ἐπιτρέψας 
+192 
+
+
+BOOK I. 152-153 
+
+
+f£ 
+152. So’ when the envoys of the Ionians and 
+Aeolians came to Sparta (for this was set afoot with 
+all speed) they chose the Phocaean, whose name was 
+Pythermos, to speak for all He then put on-a 
+purple cloak, that as many Spartans as possible might 
+assemble to hear him, and stood up and made a long 
+speech asking aid for his people. But the Lacedae- 
+monians would not listen to him and refused to aid 
+the Ionians. So the Ionians departed; but the 
+Lacedaemonians, though they had rejected their 
+envoys, did nevertheless send men in a ship of fifty 
+oars to see (as I suppose) how it fared with Cyrus 
+and Ionia. These, coming to Phocaea, sent Lacrines, 
+who was the most esteemed among them, to Sardis, to 
+repeat there to Cyrus a proclamation of the Lacedae- 
+monians, that he must harm no city on Greek terri- 
+tory; else the Lacedaemonians would punish him. 
+153. When the herald had so spoken, Cyrus (it is 
+said) asked the Greeks that were present who and 
+how many in number were these Lacedaemonians 
+who made him this declaration. When he was told, 
+he said to the Spartan herald, *I never yet feared 
+men who have a place set apart in the midst of their 
+city where they perjure themselves and deceive each 
+other. These, if I keep my health, shall have their 
+own mishaps to talk of, not those of the Ionians." 
+This threat he uttered against the whole Greek 
+nation, because they have market-places and buy 
+and sell there; for the Persians themselves use no 
+market-places, nor have they such at all. Presently, 
+I93 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τὰς μὲν Σάρδις Ταβάλῳ ἀνδρὶ Πέρσῃ, τὸν δὲ 
+~ A ^ 
+χρυσὸν τόν T€ Κροίσου καὶ τὸν τῶν ἄλλων Λυδῶν 
+^ L4 
+Πακτύῃ ἀνδρὶ Λυδῷ κομίζειν, ἀπήλαυνε αὐτὸς ἐς 
+᾿Αγβάτανα, Κροῖσόν τε ἅμα ἀγόμενος καὶ τοὺς 
+7 7 ΄ 
+Ἴωνας ἐν οὐδενὶ λόγῳ ποιησάμενος τὴν πρώτην 
+9 σ \ B ά e $ 3 0 pi * 
+εἶναι. Ñ τε yap Βαβυλών οἱ ἣν ἐμπόδιος καὶ τὸ 
+Βάκτριον ἔθνος καὶ Σάκαι τε καὶ Αἰγύπτιοι, ἐπ᾿ 
+οὓς ἐπεῖχέ τε στρατηλατέειν αὐτός, ἐπὶ δὲ Ἴωνας 
+ἄλλον πέμπειν στρατηγόν. 
+ε - ^ 
+154. Ὡς δὲ ἀπήλασε ὁ Κῦρος ἐκ τῶν Σαρδίων, 
+X AY > / € r 2 , 2 
+τοὺς Λυδοὺς ἀπέστησε ὁ Πακτύης ἀπότε Ταβάλου 
+. / M N09» \ / e M 
+καὶ Κύρου, καταβὰς δὲ ἐπὶ θάλασσαν, ἅτε τὸν 
+χρυσὸν ἔχων πάντα τὸν ἐκ τῶν Σαρδίων, ἐπικού- 
+^ , 
+ρους Te ἐμισθοῦτο καὶ τοὺς ἐπιθαλασσίους «v- 
+θρώπους ἔπειθε σὺν ἑωυτῷ στρατεύεσθαι. ἐλάσας 
+4 
+δὲ ἐπὶ τὰς Σάρδις ἐπολιόρκεε Τάβαλον ἀπεργ- 
+μένον ἐν τῇ ἀκροπόλι. 
+3, M ^ M ^ 
+155. Πυθόμενος δὲ κατ ὁδὸν ταῦτα ὁ Κῦρος 
+εἶπε πρὸς Κροῖσον τάδε. “Κροῖσε, τί ἔσται 
+τέλος τῶν γινομένων τούτων ἐμοί; οὐ παύσονται 
+Λυδοί, ὡς οἴκασι, πρήγματα παρέχοντες καὶ αὐτοὶ 
+ἔχοντες. φροντίζω μὴ ἄριστον ᾖ ἐξανδραποδί- 
+e e^ 
+σασθαι σφέας. ὁμοίως γὰρ μοι νῦν ye φαίνομαι 
+πεποιηκέναι ὡς εἴ τις πατέρα ἀποκτείνας τῶν 
+d 3 ^ / a \ NV» N ^ A 
+παίδων αὐτοῦ φείσατο' ὣς δὲ καὶ ἐγὼ Λυδῶν τὸν 
+/ `~ 
+μὲν πλέον τι ἢ πατέρα ἐόντα σὲ λαβὼν ἄγω, 
+^ i ^ 4 
+αὐτοῖσι δὲ Λυδοῖσι τὴν πόλιν παρέδωκα, καὶ 
+A 3 
+ἔπειτα θωμάξω εἴ μοι ἀπεστᾶσι.᾽ ὃ μὲν δὴ τά 
+> 7 A 0 » 7 ^ , ` 
+περ ἐνόεε ἔλεγε, ὃ δ᾽ ἀμείβετο τοῖσιδε, δείσας μὴ 
+ἀναστάτους ποιήσῃ τὰς Σάρδις. “Q βασιλεῦ, 
+τὰ μὲν οἰκότα εἴρηκας, σὺ μέντοι μὴ πάντα θυμῷ 
+χρέο, μηδὲ πόλιν ἀρχαίην ἐξαναστήσῃς ἀναμάρ- 
+
+
+194 
+
+
+BOOK I. 153-155 
+
+
+entrusting Sardis to a Persian called Tabalus, and 
+charging Pactyes, a Lydian, to take charge of the 
+gold of Croesus and the Lydians, he himself marched 
+away to Agbatana, taking with him Croesus, and at 
+first making no account of the Ionians. For he had 
+Babylon on his hands and the Bactrian nation and 
+the Sacae and Egyptians; he was minded to lead 
+an army himself against these and to send another 
+commander against the Ionians. 
+
+154. But no sooner hac Cyrus marched away from 
+Sardis than Pactyes made the Lydians to revolt from 
+Tabalus and Cyrus; and he went down to the sea, 
+where, as he had all the gold of Sardis, he hired 
+soldiers and persuaded the men of the coast to join 
+his army. Then marching to Sardis he penned 
+Tabalus in the citadel and besieged him there. 
+
+155. When Cyrus had news of this on his journey, 
+he said to Croesus, *«* What end am I to make, Croesus, 
+of this business? it seems that the Lydians will 
+never cease making trouble for me and for themselves. 
+It is in my mind that it may be best to make slaves 
+of them ; for now methinks I have done like one that 
+should slay the father and spare the children. So 
+likewise I have taken with me you who were more 
+than a father to the Lydians, and handed the city 
+over to the Lydians themselves; and then forsooth 
+I marvel that they revolt!" So Cyrus uttered his 
+thought; but Croesus feared that he would destroy 
+Sardis, and thus answered him: * O King, what you 
+say is but reasonable. Yet do not ever yield to anger, 
+nor destroy an ancient city that is guiltless both of 
+
+
+195 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τητον ἐοῦσαν καὶ τῶν πρότερον καὶ τῶν νῦν 
+ἑστεώτων. τὰ μὲν γὰρ πρότερον ἐγώ τε ἔπρηξα 
+καὶ ἐγὼ κεφαλῇ ἀναμάξας «φέρω: τὰ δὲ νῦν 
+Ἰαρεόντα Πακτύης γὰρ ἐστὶ ὁ ἀδικέων, τῷ σὺ 
+ἐπέτρεψας Σάρδις, οὗτος δότω TOL δίκην. Λυ- 
+δοῖσι δὲ συγγνώμην ἔχων τάδε αὐτοῖσι ἐπίταξον, 
+ὡς μήτε ἀποστέωσι μήτε. δεινοί τοι ἔωσι: ἄπειπε 
+μέν σφι πέμψας ὅπλα ἀρήια μὴ ἐκτῆσθαι, κέλευε 
+δὲ σφέας κιθῶνάς τε ὑποδύνειν τοῖσι εἵμασι καὶ 
+κοθόρνους ὑποδέεσθαι, πρόειπε δ᾽ αὐτοῖσι κιθαρί- 
+ζειν τε καὶ ψάλλειν καὶ καπηλεύειν παιδεύειν τοὺς 
+παῖδας. καὶ ταχέως σφέας à βασιλεῦ γυναῖκας 
+ἀντ᾽ ἀνδρῶν ὄψεαι γεγονότας, ὥστε οὐδὲν δεινού 
+τοι ἔσονται μὴ ἀποστέωσι. 
+
+156. Κροῖσος μὲν δὴ ταῦτά οἱ ὑπετίθετο, αἱρε- 
+repa ταῦτα εὑρίσκων Λυδοῖσι 7 ἀνδραποδι- 
+σθέντας πρηθῆναι σφέας, ἐπιστάμενος ὅτι ἦν μὴ 
+ἀξιόχρεον πρόφασιν προτείνῃ, οὐκ ἀναπείσει μέν 
+μεταβουλεύσασθαι, ἀρρωδέων δὲ μὴ καὶ ὕστερον 
+κοτὲ οἱ Λυδοί, ἡ ἣν τὸ παρεὸν ὑπεκδράμωσι, ἀπο- 
+στάντες ἀπὸ τῶν Περσέων ἀπόλωνται, Κῦρος δὲ 
+ἡσθεὶς τῇ ὑποθήκῃ καὶ ὑπεὶς τῆς ὀργῆς ἔφη oi 
+πείθεσθαι: καλέσας δὲ Μαξάρεα ἄνδρα Μῆδον, 
+ταῦτά τέ οἱ ἐνετείλατο προειπεῖν Λυδοῖσι τὰ ὁ 
+Κροῖσος ὑπετίθετο, καὶ πρὸς ἐξανδραποδίσασθαι 
+τοὺς ἄλλους πάντας οἳ μετὰ Λυδῶν ἐπὶ Σάρδις 
+ἐστρατεύσαντο, αὐτὸν δὲ Πακτύην πάντως ξῶντα 
+ἀγαγεῖν παρ᾽ ἑωυτόν. 
+
+157. ^O μὲν δὴ ταῦτα ἐκ τῆς ὁδοῦ ἐντειλά- 
+μενος ἀπήλαυνε ἐς ἤθεα τὰ Περσέων, Πακτύης δὲ 
+πυθόμενος ἀγχοῦ εἶναι -στρατὸν ἐπ᾽ ἑωυτὸν ἰόντα 
+δείσας οἴχετο φεύγων ἐς Κύμην. Μαξάρης δὲ ὁ 
+
+
+το6 
+
+
+BOOK 1. 155-157 
+
+
+the former and of the latter offence. For the begin- 
+ning was my work, and on my head is the penalty ; 
+but it is Pactyes, in whose charge you left Sardis, 
+who does this present wrong; let him therefore be 
+punished. But let the Lydians be pardoned; and 
+lay on them this command, that they may not revolt 
+or be dangerous to you; send, I say, and forbid 
+them to possess weapons of war, and command 
+them to wear tunics under their cloaks and buskins 
+on their feet, and to teach their sons lyre-playing 
+and song and dance and huckstering. Then, O king, 
+you will soon see them turned to women instead of 
+men; and thus you need not fear lest they revolt.” 
+
+156. Such counsel Croesus gave Cyrus, because he 
+thought this was better for the Lydians than to be 
+sold as slaves; he knew that without some reasonable 
+plea he could not change the king’s purpose, and 
+feared that even if the Lydians should now escape 
+they might afterwards revolt and be destroyed by 
+the Persians. Cyrus was pleased by this counsel; 
+he abated his anger and said he would follow 
+Croesus’ advice. Then calling Mazares, a Mede, he 
+charged him to give the Lydians the commands 
+which Croesus advised; further, to enslave all the 
+others who had joined the Lydians in attacking 
+Sardis; and as for Pactyes himself, to bring him 
+by whatever means into his presence alive. 
+
+157. Having given these commands on his journey, 
+he marched away into the Persian country. But 
+Pactyes, learning that an army sent against him was 
+drawing near, was affrighted and fled to Cyme. 
+
+
+197 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Μῆδος ἐλάσας ἐπὶ τὰς Σάρδις τοῦ Κύρου στρατοῦ 
+μοῖραν ὅσην δή κοτε ἔχων, ὡς οὐκ εὗρε ἔτι ἐόντας 
+τοὺς ἀμφὶ Πακτύην ἐν Σάρδισι, πρῶτα μὲν τοὺς 
+Λυδοὺς ἠνάγκασε τὰς Κύρου ἐντολὰς ἐπιτελέειν, 
+ἐκ τούτου δὲ κελευσμοσύνης Λυδοὶ τὴν πᾶσαν 
+δίαιταν τῆς Cons μετέβαλον. Μαξάρης δὲ μετὰ 
+τοῦτο ἔπεμπε ἐς τὴν Κύμην ἀγγέλους ἐκδιδόναι 
+κελεύων Πακτύην. οἱ δὲ Κυμαῖοι ἔγνωσαν cvp- 
+βουλῆς πέρι ἐς θεὸν ἀνοῖσαι τὸν ἐν Βραγχίδῃσι 
+ἦν γὰρ αὐτόθι μαντήιον ἐκ παλαιοῦ ἱδρυμένον, 
+τῷ Ἴωνές τε πάντες καὶ Αἰολέες ἐώθεσαν χρᾶσθαι. 
+ὁ δὲ χῶρος οὗτος ἐστὶ τῆς Μιλησίης ὑπὲρ Πανόρ- 
+µου λιμένος. 
+
+158. Πέμψαντες ὧν οἱ Κυμαῖοι ἐς τοὺς Βραγ- 
+χίδας θεοπρόπους εἰρώτευν περὶ Πακτύην ὁκοῖόν 
+τι ποιέοντες θεοῖσι μέλλοιεν χαριεῖσθαι. ἐπειρω- 
+τῶσι δέ σφι ταῦτα χρηστήριον ἐγένετο ἐκδιδόναι 
+Πακτύην Πέρσῃσι. ταῦτα δὲ ὡς ἀπενειχθέντα 
+ἤκουσαν οἱ Κυμαῖοι, ὁρμέατο ἐκδιδόναι: ὁρμη- 
+μένου δὲ ταύτῃ τοῦ πλήθεος, ᾿Αριστόδικος ὁ 
+*H A (δε a . ^ 9 ^ 20) 00 2 
+
+ρακλείδεω ἀνὴρ τῶν ἀστῶν ἐὰν δόκιμος ἔσχε 
+μὴ ποιῆσαι ταῦτα Κυμαίους, ἀπιστέων τε τῷ 
+χρησμῷ καὶ δοκέων τοὺς θεοπρόπους οὐ λέγειν 
+ἀληθέως, ἐς ὃ τὸ δεύτερον περὶ Πακτύεω ἐπειρη- 
+σόμενοι ἤισαν ἄλλοι θεοπρόποι, τῶν καὶ ᾿Αριστό- 
+δικος ἦν. 
+
+159. ᾽Απικομένων δὲ ἐς Βραγχίδας ἐχρηστη- 
+ριάξετο ἐκ πάντων ᾿Αριστόδικος ἐπειρωτῶν τάδε. 
+“Ovat, ἦλθε παρ ἡμέας ἱκέτης Πακτύης ὁ Λυδός, 
+φεύγων θάνατον βίαιον πρὸς Περσέων' of δέ μιν 
+ἐξαιτέονται, προεῖναι Κυμαίους κελεύοντες. ἡμεῖς 
+δὲ δειμαίνοντες τὴν Ἠερσέων δύναμιν" τὸν ἱκέτην 
+198 
+
+
+BOOK I. 157-159 
+
+
+Mazares the Mede, when he came to Sardis with what- 
+ever part he had of Cyrus' army and found Pactyes' 
+followers no longer there, first of all compelled the 
+Lydians to carry out Cyrus’ commands; and by his 
+order they changed their whole manner of life. 
+After this, he sent messengers to Cyme demanding 
+that Pactyes be given up. The Cymaeans resolved 
+to make the god at Branchidae their judge as to 
+what counsel they should take; for there was there 
+an ancient place of divination, which all the Ionians 
+and Aeolians were wont to consult; the place, is 
+in the land of Miletus, above the harbour of 
+Panormus. 
+
+158. The men of Cyme then sent to Branchidae 
+to inquire of the shrine what they should do in the 
+matter of Pactyes that should be most pleasing to 
+the gods ; and the oracle replied that they must give 
+Pactyes up to the Persians. When this answer came 
+back to them, they set about giving him up. But 
+while the greater part were for doing this, Aristo- 
+dicus son of Heraclides, a notable man among the 
+citizen’, stayed the men of Cyme from this deed ; for 
+he disbelieved the oracle and thought that those ‘who 
+had inquired of the god spoke untruly; t till at last 
+a second band of inquirers was sent to inquire con- 
+cerning Pactyes, among whom was Aristodicus. 
+
+159. When they came to Branchidae Aristodicus 
+speaking for all put this question to the oracle: 
+*O King, Pactyes the Lydian hath fled to us for 
+refuge to save him from a violent death at the hands 
+of the Persians ; and they demand him of us, bidding 
+the men of Cyme to give him up. But we, for all 
+that we fear the Persian power, have not made bold 
+
+
+199 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐς τόδε οὐ τετολμήκαμεν ἐκδιδόναι, πρὶν ἂν τὸ 
+ἀπὸ σεῦ ἡμῖν δηλωθῇ ἀτρεκέως ὁκότερα mot- 
+έωμεν.᾽ ὃ μὲν ταῦτα ἐπειρώτα, ὃ δ᾽ αὖτις τὸν 
+αὐτόν σφι χρησμὸν ἔφαινε, κελεύων ἐκδιδόναι 
+Πακτύην Πέρσῃσι. πρὸς ταῦτα ὁ ᾿Αριστόδικος 
+ἐκ προνοίης ἐποίεε τάδε' περιιὼν τὸν νηὸν κύκλῳ 
+ἐξαίρεε τοὺς στρουθοὺς καὶ ἄλλα ὅσα ἣν νενοσ- 
+σευμένα ὀρνίθων γένεα ἐν τῷ νηῷ. ποιέοντος δὲ 
+αὐτοῦ ταῦτα λέγεται φωνὴν ἐκ τοῦ ἀδύτου γε- 
+νέσθαι φέρουσαν μὲν πρὸς τὸν ᾿Αριστόδικον, 
+λέγουσαν δὲ τάδε “᾿Ανοσιώτατε ἀνθρώπων, τί 
+τάδε τολμᾶς ποιέειν; τοὺς ἱκέτας µου ἐκ τοῦ νηοῦ 
+κεραΐξεις;᾽ ᾿Αριστόδικον δὲ οὐκ ἀπορήσαντα πρὸς 
+ταῦτα εἰπεῖν **"Qva£, αὐτὸς μὲν οὕτω τοῖσι ἱκέτησι 
+βοηθέεις, Κυμαίους δὲ κελεύεις τὸν ἱκέτην ἐκδι- 
+δόναι; τὸν δὲ αὖτις ἀμείψασθαι τοῖσιδε “Nal 
+κελεύω, ἵνα γε ἀσεβήσαντες θᾶσσον ἀπόλησθε, ὡς 
+μὴ τὸ λοιπὸν περὶ ἱκετέων ἐκδόσιος ἔλθητε ἐπὶ τὸ 
+χρηστήριον. 
+
+160. Ταῦτα ὡς ἀπενειχθέντα ἤκουσαν οἱ Κυ- 
+μαῖοι, οὗ Βουλόμενοι οὔτε ἐκδόντες ἀπολέσθαι 
+οὔτε παρ ἑωυτοῖσι ἔχοντες πολιορκέεσθαι, ἐκπέμ- 
+πουσι αὐτὸν ἐς Μυτιλήνην. οἱ δὲ Μυτιληναῖοι 
+ἐπιπέμποντος τοῦ Μαζάρεος ἀγγελύας ἐκδιδόναι 
+τὸν Πακτύην παρεσκευάζοντο ἐπὶ μισθῷ ὅσῳ δή: 
+οὐ γὰρ ἔχω τοῦτό γε εἰπεῖν ἀτρεκέως" οὐ γὰρ 
+ἐτελεώθη. Κυμαῖοι γὰρ ὡς ἔμαθον ταῦτα πρησ- 
+σόμενα ἐκ τῶν Μυτιληναίων, πέμψαντες πλοῖον ἐς 
+Λέσβον ἐκκομίξουσι Πακτύην ἐς Χίον. ἐνθεῦτεν 
+δὲ ἐξ ἱροῦ ᾿Αθηναίης πολιούχου ἀποσπασθεὶς ὑπὸ 
+Χίων ἐξεδόθη" ἐξέδοσαν δὲ οἱ Χῖοι ἐπὶ τῷ ᾿Αταρνέι 
+μισθῷ: τοῦ δὲ ᾿Αταρνέος τούτου ἐστὶ χῶρος 
+
+
+200 
+
+
+BOOK I. 159-160 
+
+
+to give up this our suppliant, until thy will be clearly 
+made known to us, whether we shall do this or not.” 
+Thus Aristodicus questioned; and the god gave again 
+the same answer, that Pactyes should be delivered up 
+to the Persians. With that Aristodicus did as he had 
+already purposed ; he went round about the temple, 
+and stole away the sparrows and all other families of 
+nesting birds that were in it. But while he so did, 
+
+a voice (they say) came out of the inner shrine calling 
+to Aristodicus, and saying, “Thou wickedest of men, 
+
+wherefore darest thou do this? wilt thou rob my 
+temple of those that take refuge with me?" Then 
+Aristodicus had his answer ready: “O King,” said 
+he, “wilt thou thus save thine own suppliants, yet 
+bid the men of Cyme deliver up theirs?" But the 
+god made answer, * Yea, I do bid them, that ye may 
+the sooner perish for your impiety, and never again 
+come to inquire of my oracle concerning the giving 
+up of them that seek refuge with you.' 
+
+160. Whenthis answer was brought to the hearing 
+of the Cymaeans they sent Pactyesa away to Mytilene ; 
+for they desired neither to perish for delivering him 
+up nor to be besieged for keeping him with them. 
+Then Mazares sent a message to Mytilene demanding 
+the surrender of Pactyes, and the Mytilenaeans pre- 
+pared to give him, for a price; I cannot say with 
+exactness how much it was, for the bargain was 
+never fulfilled; for when the Cymaeans learnt that 
+the Mytilenaeans had this in hand, they sent a ship 
+to Lesbos and brought Pactyes away to Chios. 
+Thence he was dragged out of the temple of City- 
+guarding Athene and delivered up by the Chians, 
+they receiving in return Atarneus, which is a district 
+
+
+2001 
+
+
+f κ 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τῆς Μυσιης, Λεσβου ἀντίος. Πακτύην μέν νυν 
+παραδεξάμενοι οἱ Πέρσαι εἶχον ἐν φυλακῇ, θέ- 
+
+
+λοντες Κύρῳ ἀποδέξαι. ἦν δὲ χρόνος. οὗτος οὐκ 
+
+
+ὀλίγος γινόμενος, ὅτε Χίων οὐδεὶς ἐ ἐκ τοῦ ᾿Αταρνέος 
+τούτου οὔτε οὐλὰς κριθέων πρόχυσιν ἐποιέετο 
+θεῶν οὐδενὶ οὔτε πέμματα ἐπέσσετο καρποῦ τοῦ 
+ἐνθεῦτεν, ἀπείχετό τε τῶν πάντων ἱρῶν τὰ πάντα 
+ἐκ τῆς χώρης ταύτης γινόμενα. 
+
+161. Χῖοι μέν νυν Πακτύην ἐξέδοσαν" Μαζάρης 
+δὲ | μετὰ ταῦτα ἐστρατεύετο ἐπὶ τοὺς συμπολιορ- 
+κήσαντας Τάβαλον, καὶ τοῦτο μὲν Πριηνέας έξην- 
+δραποδίσατο, τοῦτο δὲ Μαιάνδρου πεδίον πᾶν 
+ἐπέδραμε ληίην ποιεύμενος τῷ στρατῷ, Μαγ- 
+νησίην τε ὡσαύτως. μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα αὐτίκα 
+κ τελευτᾷ. 
+
+᾿Αποθανόντος δὲ τούτου, "Αρπαγος κατέβη 
+διόδιλος τῆς στρατηγίης, γένος καὶ αὐτὸς ἐὼν 
+Μῆδος, τὸν ὁ Μήδων βασιλεὺς ᾿Αστυάγης ἀνόμῳ 
+τραπέζῃ ἔδαισε, ὁ 0 τῷ, Κύρῳ τὴν βασιληίην συγ- 
+κατεργασάμενος. οὗτος ὠνὴρ τότε ὑπὸ Κύρου 
+στρατηγὸς ἀποδεχθεὶς ὡς ὀπίκετο ἐς τὴν Ἰωνίην, 
+aipee τὰς πόλιας χώμασι" ὅκως γὰρ τειχήρεας 
+ποιήσειε, τὸ ἐνθεῦτεν χώματα χῶν πρὸς τὰ τείχεα 
+ἐπόρθεε. 
+
+163. Πρώτῃ δὲ Φωκαίῃ Ἰωνίης ἐπεχείρησε. 
+oí δὲ Φωκαιέες οὗτοι ναυτιλέῃσι μακρῇσι 
+πρῶτοι Ἑλλήνων, ἐχρήσαντο, καὶ τὀν τε ᾿Αδρίην 
+καὶ τὴν Τυρσηνίην καὶ τὴν ᾿Ιβηρίην καὶ τὸν 
+Ταρτησσὸν. οὗτοι εἰσὶ οἱ καταδέξαντες' ἐναυτίλ- 
+λοντο δὲ οὐ στρογγύλῃσι νηυσὶ ἀλλὰ πεντηκον- 
+τέροισι. ἀπικόμενοι δὲ ἐς τὸν Ταρτησσὸν προσ- 
+φιλέες ἐγένοντο τῷ βασιλέι τῶν Ταρτησσίων, 
+
+
+205 
+
+
+BOOK I. 160-163 
+
+
+in Mysia over against Lesbos. ‘The Persians thus 
+received Pactyes and kept him guarded, that they 
+might show him to Cyrus; and for a long time no 
+Chian would offer sacrifice of barley meal from this 
+land of Atarneus to any god, or make sacrificial cakes 
+of what grew there; nothing that came from that 
+country might be used for any sacred rite. 
+
+161. Pactyes being then delivered up by the 
+Chians, Mazares presently led his army against those 
+who had helped to besiege Tabalus, and he enslaved 
+the people of Priene, and overran the plain of the 
+Maeandrus, giving it up to his army to pillage, and 
+Magnesia likewise. Immediately after this he died 
+of a sickness. 
+
+162. After his death Harpagus came down to suc- 
+ceed him in his command, a Median like Mazares ; 
+this is that Harpagus who was entertained by Asty- 
+ages the Median king at that unnatural feast, and 
+who helped to win the kingship for Cyrus. This 
+man was now made general by Cyrus. When he 
+came to Ionia, he took the cities by building mounds ; 
+he would drive the men within their walls and then 
+build mounds against the walls and so take the 
+cities. 
+
+163. Phocaea was the first Ionian town that he 
+assailed. These Phocaeans were the earliest of the 
+Greeks to make long sea-voyages: it was they who 
+discovered the Adriatic Sea, and Tyrrhenia, and 
+Iberia, and Tartessus,! not sailing in round freight- 
+Ships but in fifty-oared vessels. When they came to 
+Tartessus they made friends with the king of the 
+
+1 The lower valley of the Guadalquivir. Later Tartessus 
+was identified with Gades (Cadiz), which Herodotus (iv. 8) 
+calls Gadira. 
+
+
+VOL.I. H 203 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τῷ οὔνομα μὲν ἦν ᾿Αργανθώνιος, ἐτυράννευσε δὲ 
+Ταρτησσοῦ ὀγδώκοντα ἔτεα, ἐβίωσε δὲ πάντα 
+εἴκοσι καὶ ἑκατόν. τούτῳ δὴ τῷ ἀνδρὶ προσ- 
+φιλέες οἱ Φωκαιέες οὕτω δή τι ἐγένοντο ὡς τὰ μὲν 
+πρῶτα σφέας ἐκλιπόντας Ἰωνίην ἐκέλευε τῆς 
+ἑωυτοῦ χώρης οἰκῆσαι ὅκου βούλονται" μετὰ δέ, 
+ὡς τοῦτό γε οὐκ ἔπειθε τοὺς Φωκαιέας, ὃ δὲ 
+πυθόμενος τὸν Μῆδον παρ᾽ αὐτῶν ὡς αὔξοιτο, 
+ἐδίδου σφι χρήματα τεῖχος περιβαλέσθαι τὴν 
+πόλιν, ἐδίδου. δὲ ἀφειδέως" καὶ γὰρ, καὶ ἡ περίοδος 
+τοῦ τείχεος οὐκ ὀλέγοι στάδιοι εἰσί, τοῦτο δὲ πᾶν 
+λίθων μεγάλων καὶ εὖ συναρμοσμένων. 
+
+164. Τὸ μὲν δὴ τεῖχος τοῖσι Φωκαιεῦσι τρόπῳ 
+τοιῷδε ἐξεποιήθη. ὁ δὲ" ΄Αρπαγος ὡς ἐπήλασε, τὴν 
+στρατιήν, ἐπολιόρκεε αὐτούς, προϊσχόμενος ἔπεα 
+ὥς οἱ καταχρᾷ ei βούλονται Φωκαιέες προμα- 
+χεῶνα ἕνα μοῦνον τοῦ τείχεος ἐρεῖψαι καὶ οἴκημα 
+ἓν κατιρῶσαι. οἱ δὲ Φωκαιέες περιημεκτέοντες 
+τῇ δουλοσύνῃ ἔφασαν θέλειν βουλεύσασθαι 
+ἡμέρην μίαν καὶ ἔ ἔπειτα ὑποκρινέεσθαι" ἐν ᾧ δὲ 
+βουλεύονται αὗτοί, ἀπαγαγεῖν ἐκεῖνον. ἐκέλευον 
+τὴν στρατιὴν ἀπὸ τοῦ τείχεος. ὁ ὃ ' ΄Άρπαγος 
+ἔφη εἰδέναι μὲν eb τὰ ἐκεῖνοι μέλλοιεν ποιέειν, 
+ὅμως δέ σφι παριέναι βουλεύσασθαι. ἐν ᾧ ὧν 
+ὁ Αρπαγος ἀπὸ τοῦ τείχεος ἀπήγαγε τὴν στρα- 
+τιήν, οἱ Φωκαιέες ἐν τούτῳ. κατασπάσαντες τὰς 
+πεντηκοντέρους, ἐσθέμενοι τέκνα καὶ γυναῖκας καὶ 
+ἔπιπλα πάντα, πρὸς δὲ καὶ τὰ ἀγάλματα τὰ ἐκ 
+τῶν ἱρῶν καὶ τὰ ἄλλα ἀναθήματα, χωρὶς ὅ τι 
+χαλκὸς ἢ λίθος ἡ γραφὴ ἣν, τὰ δὲ ἄλλα πάντα 
+ἐσθέντες καὶ nore, ἐσβάντες ἔπλεον ἐπὶ Χίου. τὴν 
+δὲ Φωκαίην ἐρημωθεῖσαν ἀνδρῶν ἔσχον οἱ Πέρσαι. 
+
+
+204 
+
+
+BOOK I. 163-164 
+
+
+Tartessians, whose name was Arganthonius; he ruled 
+Tartessus for eighty years and lived an hundred and 
+twenty.! The Phocaeans so won this man's friendship 
+that he first entreated them to leave Ionia and settle 
+in hís country where they would ; and then, when he 
+could not persuade them to that, and learnt from 
+them how the Median power was increasing, he gave 
+them money to build a wall round their city there- 
+with. Without stint he gave it; for the circuit of 
+the wall is of many furlongs, and all this is made 
+of great stones well fitted together. 
+
+164. In such a manner was the Phocaeans’ wali 
+fully made. Harpagus marched against the city and 
+besieged it, but he made overtures, and said that it 
+would suffice him if the Phocaeans would demolish 
+one bastion of the wall and dedicate one house. 
+But the Phocaeans, very wroth at the thought ot 
+slavery, said they desired to take counsel for one day, 
+and then they would answer; but while they were 
+consulting, Harpagus must, they said, withdraw his 
+army from the walls. Harpagus said that he knew 
+well what they purposed to do, but that nevertheless 
+he would suffer them to take counsel. So while Har- 
+pagus withdrew his army from the walls, the Phocae- 
+ans launched their fifty-oared ships, placed in them 
+their children and women and all movable goods, 
+besides the statues from the temples and all things 
+therein dedicated save bronze or stonework or 
+painting, and then themselves embarked and set 
+sail for Chios; and the Persians took Phocaea, thus 
+left uninbabited. 
+
+
+! Α common Greek tradition, apparently ; Anacreon (Fr. 8) 
+says ‘‘I would not... rule Tartessus for an hundred and 
+fifty years." 
+
+
+205 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+165. Οἱ δὲ «Φωκαιέες, ἐπείτε σφι Niot τὰς 
+νήσους τὰς Οἰνούσσας καλεομένας οὔκ ἐβούλοντο 
+ὠνευμένοισι πωλέειν, δειμαίνοντες μὴ αἳ μὲν ἐμ- 
+πόριον γένωνται, ἡ δὲ αὐτῶν νῆσος ἀποκληισθῇ 
+τούτου εἵνεκα, πρὸς ταῦτα οἱ Φωκαιέες ἐστέλλοντο 
+ἐς Κύρνον: ἐν γὰρ τῇ Κύρνῳ εἴκοσι ἔτεσι πρό- 
+τερον τούτων ἐκ θεοπροπίου ἀνεστήσαντο πόλιν, 
+τῇ -οὔνομα ἦν ᾽Αλαλίη. ᾿Αργανθώνιος δὲ τηνι- 
+καῦτα ἤδη τετελευτήκεε, στελλόμενοι δὲ ἐπὶ τὴν 
+Κύρνον, πρῶτα καταπλεύσαντες ἐς τὴν Φωκαίην 
+κατεφόνευσαν τῶν Περσέων τὴν φυλακήν; ἣ 
+ἐφρούρεε παραδεξαμένη παρὰ Αρπάγου τὴν 
+πόλιν, μετὰ δέ, ὡς τοῦτό σφι ἐξέργαστο, ἐ ἐποιή- 
+σαντο ἰσχυρὰς κατάρας. τῷ ὑπολειπομένῳ ἑ ἑωυτῶν 
+τοῦ στόλου, πρὸς δὲ ταύτῃσι καὶ μύδρον σιδήρεον 
+κατεπόντωσαν καὶ ὤμοσαν μὴ πρὶν ἐς Φωκαίην 
+
+ἥξειν πρὶν 7 τὸν μύδρον τοῦτον ἀναφανῆναι. 
+στελλομένων δὲ αὐτῶν ἐπὶ τὴν Κύρνον, ὑπερη- 
+μύσεας τῶν ἀστῶν ἔλαβε πόθος τε καὶ οἶκτος τῆς 
+πόλιος καὶ τῶν ἠθέων τῆς χώρης, ψευδόρκιοι δὲ 
+γενόμενοι ἀπέπλεον ὀπίσω ἐς τὴν Φωκαίην. οἳ 
+δὲ αὐτῶν τὸ ὅρκιον ἐφύλασσον, ἀερθέντες ἐκ τῶν 
+Οἰνουσσέων ἔπλεον. 
+
+106. Επείτε δὲ ἐς τὴν Κύρνον ἀπίκοντο, οἴκεον 
+κοινῇ μετὰ τῶν πρότερον ἀπικομένων ἐπ᾽ ἔτεα 
+πέντε, καὶ ἱρὰ. ἐνιδρύσαντο. καὶ ἦγον γὰρ δὴ 
+καὶ ἔφερον τοὺς περιοίκους ἅπαντας, στρατεύ- 
+ονται ὧν em αὐτοὺς καινῷ λόγῳ χρησάμενοι 
+Τυρσηνοὶ καὶ Καρχηδόνιοι, νηυσὶ ἑκάτεροι ἑξή- 
+κόντα. οἱ δὲ Φωκαιέες πληρώσαντες καὶ αὐτοὶ 
+τὰ πλοῖα, ἐόντα ἀριθμὸν ἑξήκοντα, ἀντίαζον ἐς 
+τὸ Σαρδόνιον καλεόμενον πέλαγος. συμμισ- 
+
+
+206 
+
+
+BOOK I. 165—166 
+
+
+165. The Phocaeans would have bought of the 
+Chians the islands called Oenussae!; but the Chians 
+would not sell them, because they feared that the 
+islands would become a market and so their own 
+island be cut off from its trade: so the Phocaeans 
+made ready to sail to Cyrnus,? where at the command 
+of an oracle they had twenty years before this built 
+a city called Alalia. Arganthonius was by this time 
+dead. While making ready for their voyage, they 
+first sailed to Phocaea, where they slew the Persian 
+guard to whom Harpagus had entrusted the defence 
+of the city; and this being done, they called down 
+mighty curses on whosoever of themselves should 
+stay behind when the rest sailed. Not only so, but 
+they sank in the sea a mass of iron, and swore never 
+to return to Phocaea before the iron should again 
+appear. But while they prepared to voyage to Cyrnus, 
+more than half of the citizens were taken with a 
+longing and a pitiful sorrow for the city and the life 
+of their land, and they broke their oath and sailed 
+back to Phocaea. Those of them who kept the oath 
+set out to sea from the Oenussae. 
+
+166. And when they came to Cyrnus they dwelt 
+there for five years as one body with those who had 
+first come, and they founded temples there. But 
+they harried and plundered all their neighbours: 
+wherefore the Tyrrhenians and Carchedonians made 
+common cause against them, and sailed to attack 
+them each with sixty ships. The Phocaeans also 
+manned their ships, sixty in number, and met the 
+enemy in the sea called Sardonian. They joined 
+
+
+! Between Chios and the mainland. 
+5 Corsica. 
+
+
+207 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+γόντων δὲ τῇ ναυμαχίῃ. Καδμείη τις νίκη τοῖσι 
+Φωκαιεῦσι ἐγένετο" αἱ μὲν γὰρ τεσσεράκοντά σφι 
+νέες διεφθάρησαν, αἱ δὲ εἴκοσι αἱ περιεοῦσαι 
+ἦσαν ἄχρηστοι" ἀπεστράφατο γὰρ τοὺς. ἐμβό- 
+λους. καταπλώσαντες δὲ ἐς τὴν Αλαλίην ἀνέ- 
+λαβον τὰ τέκνα καὶ τὰς γυναῖκας καὶ τὴν ἄλλην 
+κτῆσιν ὅσην οἷαί τε ἐγίνοντο αἱ νέες σφι ἄγειν, 
+καὶ ἔπειτα ἀπέντες τὴν Κύρνον ἔπλεον ἐς 
+Ῥήγιον. 
+
+167. Τῶν δὲ διαφθαρεισέων νεῶν τοὺς ἄνδρας 
+οἵ τε Καρχηδόνιοι καὶ οἱ Τυρσηνοὶ [διέλαχον, τῶν 
+δὲ Τυρσηνῶν οἱ ᾽Αγυλλαῖοι]! ἔλαχόν T€ αὐτῶν 
+πολλῷ πλείστους καὶ τούτους ἐξαγαγόντες κατέ- 
+λευσαν. μετὰ δὲ ᾿Αγυλλαίοισι πάντα τὰ παρι- 
+όντα τὸν χῶρον, ἐν τῷ οἱ «Φωκαιέες καταλευ- 
+σθέντες ἐκέατο, ἐγίνετο διάστροφα καὶ ἔμπηρα 
+καὶ ἀπόπληκτα, ὁμοίως πρόβατα καὶ ὑποξύγια 
+καὶ ἄνθρωποι. οἱ δὲ ᾿Αγυλλαῖοι ἐς Δελφοὺς 
+ἔπεμπον βουλόμενοι ἀκέσασθαι τὴν ἁμαρτάδα. 
+ἡ δὲ Πυθίη σφέας ἐκέλευσε ποιέειν τὰ. καὶ νῦν 
+οἱ ᾿Αγνλλαῖοι ἔτι ἐπιτελέουσι" καὶ yàp. ἐναγί- 
+ζουσί σφι μεγάλως καὶ. ἀγῶνα γυμνικὸν καὶ 
+ἱππικὸν ἐπιστᾶσι. καὶ οὗτοι μὲν τῶν Φωκαιέων 
+τοιούτῳ μόρῳ διεχρήσαντο, οἱ δὲ αὐτῶν ἐς τὸ 
+“Ῥήγιον καταφυγόντες ἐνθεῦτεν ὁρμώμενοι ἐκτή- 
+σαντο πόλιν γῆς τῆς Οἰνωτρίης ταύτην ἥτις νῦν 
+Ὑέλη καλέεται" ἔκτισαν δὲ ταύτην πρὸς ἀνδρὸς 
+Ποσειδωνιήτεω μαθόντες ὡς τὸν Κύρνον σφι ἡ 
+Πυθίη ἔχρησε κτίσαι ἥρων ἐόντα, ἀλλ οὐ τὴν 
+νῆσον. 
+
+
+1 The words in brackets are Stein’s conjecture ; the MSS. 
+have nothing between Τυρσηνοὶ and ἔλαχον. 
+
+
+208 
+
+
+BOOK I. 166-167 
+
+
+battle, and the Phocaeans won, yet it was but a Cad- 
+mean victory 1; for they lost forty of their ships, and 
+the twenty that remained were useless, their rams 
+being twisted awry. Then sailing to Alalia they took 
+on board their children and women and all of their 
+possessions that their ships could hold, and leaving 
+Cyrnus they sailed to Rhegium. 
+
+167. As for the crews of the destroyed ships, the 
+Carchedonians and Tyrrhenians drew lots for them: 
+and by far the greater share of them falling. to the 
+Tyrrhenian city of Agylla,? the Agyllaeans led them 
+out and stoned them to death. But after this all 
+from Agylla, whether sheep or beasts of burden or 
+men, that passed the place where the stoned Phocae- 
+ans lay, became distorted and crippled and palsied. 
+The Agyllaeanssent to Delphi, desiring to heal their 
+offence; and the Pythian priestess bade them do 
+what the people of Agylla to this day perform : for 
+they pay great honours to the Phocaeans, with 
+.religious rites and games, and horse-races. Such 
+was the end of this portion of the Phocaeans. Those 
+of them who fled to Rhegium set out from thence 
+and gained possession of that Oenotrian? city which 
+is now called Hyele*; this they founded because 
+they learnt from a man of Posidonia that when the 
+Pythian priestess spoke of founding a settlement and 
+of Cyrnus, it was the hero that she signified and 
+not the island. 
+
+
+1 Polynices and Eteocles, sons of Oedipus and descendants 
+of Cadmus, fought for the possession of Thebes and killed 
+each other. Hence & Cadmean victory means one where 
+victor and vanquished suffer alike. 
+
+ἃ Later Caere in Etruria. 
+
+5 Oenotria corresponds to Southern Italy (the Lucania and 
+Bruttium of Roman history). * Later Elea (Velia). 
+
+
+209 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+168. Φωκαίης μέν νυν πέρι τῆς ἐν “lovin οὕτω 
+ἔσχε, παραπλήσια δὲ τούτοισι καὶ Τήιοι ἐποί- 
+ησαν. ἐπεύτε γὰρ σφέων εἷλε χώματι τὸ τεῖχος 
+7 Aprrayos, ἐσβάντες πάντες ἐς τὰ πλοῖα οἴχοντο 
+πλέοντες ἐπὶ τῆς Θρηίκης, καὶ ἐνθαῦτα ë ἔκτισαν 
+πόλιν "Αβδηρα, τὴν πρότερος τούτων Κλαξο- 
+μένιος Τιμήσιος κτίσας οὐκ ἀπόνητο, ἀλλ᾽ ὑπὸ 
+Θρηίκων ἐξελασθεὶς τιμὰς νῦν ὑπὸ Τηίων τῶν 
+ἐν ᾿Αβδήροισι ὦ ὡς ἥρως ἔχει. 
+
+169. Οὗτοι μέν νυν lovov μοῦνοι τὴν δουλο- 
+σύνην οὐκ ἀνεχόμενοι ἐξέλιπον τὰς πατρίδας" οἱ 
+δ᾽ ἄλλοι Ἴωνες πλὴν Μιλησίων διὰ μάχης μὲν 
+ἀπίκοντο ᾿Αρπάγῳ κατά περ οἱ ἐκλιπόντες, καὶ 
+ἄνδρες È ἐγένοντο ἀγαθοὶ περὶ τῆς ἑωυτοῦ ἕκαστος 
+μαχόμενοι, ἑσσωθέντες δὲ καὶ ἁλόντες ἔμενον 
+κατὰ χώρην ἕκαστοι καὶ τὰ ἐπιτασσόμενα ἐπετέ- 
+λεον. Μιλήσιοι δέ, ὡς καὶ πρότερόν μοι εἴρηται, 
+αὐτῷ Κύρ ὅρκιον ποιησάμενοι ἡσυχίην ἦγον. 
+οὕτω δὴ τὸ δεύτερον ᾿Ιωνίη ἐδεδούλωτο. ὡς δὲ 
+τοὺς ἐν τῇ ἠπείρῳ Ἴωνας ἐχειρώσατο "Άρπαφος, 
+οἱ τὰς νήσους ἔχοντες Ἴωνες καταρρωδήσαντες 
+ταῦτα σφέας αὐτοὺς ἔδοσαν Κύρῳ. 
+
+170. Κεκακωμένων δὲ Ἰώνων καὶ συλλεγο- 
+μένων οὐδὲν ἧσσον ἐς τὸ Πανιώνιον, πυνθάνομαι 
+γνώμην Βίαντα ἄνδρα Πριηνέα ἀποδέξασθαι Ἴωσι 
+χρησιμωτάτην, τῇ εἰ ἐπείθοντο, παρεῖχε ἄν σφι 
+
+
+| εὐδαιμονέειν Ἑλλήνων μάλιστα" ὃς ἐκέλευε κοινῷ 
+
+
+στόλῳ Ἴωνας ἀερθέντας πλέειν ἐς Σαρδὰ καὶ 
+ἔπειτα πόλιν μίαν κτίξειν πάντων ᾿Ιώνων, καὶ 
+οὕτω ἀπαλλαχθέντας᾽ σφέας δουλοσύνης εὖδαι- 
+μονήσειν, νήσων τε ἁπασέων μεγίστην νεμομένους 
+καὶ ἄρχοντας ἄλλων' μένουσι δέ σφι ἐν τῇ 
+
+
+210 
+
+
+BOOK I. 168-170 
+
+
+168. Thus, then, it fared with the Ionian Phocaea. 
+The Teians did in like manner with the Phocaeans : 
+when Harpagus had taken their walled city by build- 
+ing a mound, they all embarked on shipboard and 
+sailed away for Thrace. There they founded a city, 
+Abdera, which before this had been founded by 
+Timesius of Clazomenae ; yet he got no good of it, 
+but was driven out by the Thracians. This Timesius 
+is now honoured as a hero by the Teians of Abdera. 
+
+169. These were the only Ionians who, being 
+unable to endure slavery, left their nativelands. The 
+rest of the Ionians, except the Milesians, though 
+they faced Harpagus in battle as did the exiles, and 
+bore themselves gallantly, each fighting for his own 
+country, yet, when they were worsted and their 
+cities taken, remained each where he was and did as 
+they were commanded. The Milesians, as I have 
+already said, made a treaty with Cyrus himself and 
+struck no blow. Thus was lonia for the second 
+time enslaved : and when Harpagus had conquered 
+the lonians of the mainland, the Ionians of the 
+islands, fearing the same fate, surrendered themselves 
+to Cyrus. 
+
+170. When the Ionians, despite their evil plight, 
+did nevertheless assemble at the Panionion, Bias of 
+Priene, as I have heard, gave them very useful advice, 
+which had they followed they might have been the 
+most prosperous of all Greeks: for.he counselled them 
+to put out to sea and sail all together to Sardo and 
+then found one city for all Ionians: thus, possessing 
+the greatest island in the world and bearing rule over 
+others, they would be rid of slavery and win pros- 
+perity; but if they stayed in Ionia he could see (he 
+
+
+211 
+
+
+“ m 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Ἰωνίῃ οὐκ ἔφη ἐνορᾶν ἐλευθερίην ἔτι ἐσομένην. 
+αὕτη μὲν Βίαντος τοῦ Πριηνέος γνώμη ἐπὶ διε- 
+φθαρμένοισι Ἴωσι γενομένη, χρηστὴ δὲ καὶ πρὶν 
+7 διαφθαρῆναι Ἰωνίην Odrew ἀνδρὸς Μιλησίου 
+ἐγένετο, τὸ ἀνέκαθεν γένος ἐόντος Φοίνικος, ὃς 
+ἐκέλευε ἓν βουλευτήριον Ἴωνας ἐκτῆσθαι, τὸ δὲ 
+εἶναι ἐν 'Téo (Τέων γὰρ μέσον εἶναι Ἰωνίης), τὰς 
+δὲ ἄλλας πόλιας οἰκεομένας μηδὲν ἧσσον νομί- 
+ζεσθαι κατά περ εἰ δῆμοι clet οὗτοι μὲν δή σφι 
+γνώμας τοιάσδε ἀπεδέξαντο. 
+
+171. " Aprraryos δὲ καταστρεψάµενος Ἰωνίην 
+ἐποιέετο στρατηΐην ἐπὶ Kápas καὶ Καυνίους καὶ 
+Λυκίους, ἅμα ἀγόμενος καὶ Ἴωνας καὶ Αἰολέας. 
+εἰσὶ δὲ τούτων Kápes μὲν ἀπιγμένοι ἐς τὴν ἤπειρον 
+ἐκ τῶν νήσων. τὸ γὰρ παλαιὸν ἐόντες Μίνω κατή- 
+κοοι καὶ καλεόμενοι Λέλεγες εἶχον τὰς νήσους, 
+pm uev οὐδένα ὑποτελέοντες, ὅσον καὶ ἐγὼ 
+
+υνατός εἰμι ἐπὶ μακρότατον ἐξικέσθαι ἀκοῇ" οἳ 
+δέ, ὅκως Μίνως δέοιτο, ἐπλήρουν οἱ τὰς νέας. ἅτε 
+δὴ Μίνω τε .κατεστραμμένου γῆν πολλὴν καὶ εὐ- 
+τυχέοντος τῷ πολέμῳ, τὸ Καρικὸν ἢ ήν ἔθνος λογι- 
+μώτατον τῶν ἐθνέων ἁπάντων κατὰ τοῦτον ἅμα 
+τὸν χρόνον μακρῷ μάλιστα. καί σφι τριξὰ 
+ἐξευρήματα ἐγένετο, τοῖσι οἱ “Ελληνες ἐχρήσαντο: 
+καὶ yap ἐπὶ τὰ κράνεα λόφους ἐπιδέεσθαι Kápes 
+εἰσὶ οἱ καταδέξαντες καὶ ἐπὶ τὰς ἀσπίδας τὰ 
+σημήια ποιέεσθαι, καὶ ὄχανα ἀσπίσι οὗτοι εἰσὶ οἱ 
+ποιησάμενοι πρῶτοι: τέως δὲ ἄνευ ὀχάνων͵ ἐφόρεον 
+τὰς ἀσπίδας πάντες ot περ ἐώθεσαν ἀσπίσι χρᾶ- 
+σθαι, τελαμῶσι σκυτίνοισι οἰηκίξοντες, περὶ τοῖσι 
+αὐχέσι τε καὶ τοῖσι ἀριστεροῖσι ὤμοισι περικεί- 
+
+
+212 
+
+
+BOOK I. 170-171 
+
+
+said) no hope of freedom for them. Such was the 
+counsel which Bias of Priene gave after the destruc- 
+tion of the Ionians; and good also was that given 
+before the destruction by Thales of Miletus, a 
+Phoenician by descent ; he would have had the Ionians 
+make one common place of counsel, which should be 
+in Teos, for that was the centre of Ionia; and the 
+state of the other cities should be held to be no other 
+than if they were but townships. Thus Bias and 
+Thales advised. 
+
+171. Harpagus, after subduing Ionia, made an 
+expedition against the Carians, Caunians, and Lycians, 
+taking with him Ionians and Aeolians, Now among 
+these the Carians were a people who had come to the 
+mainland from the islands; for in old time they were 
+islanders, called Leleges and under the rule of Minos, 
+not (as far as I can learn by hearsay) paying him 
+tribute, but manning ships for him when he needed 
+them. Seeing then that Minos had subdued much 
+territory to himself and was victorious in war, this 
+made the Carians too at that time to be very far 
+the most regarded of all nations. Three things 
+they invented in which they were followed by the 
+Greeks: it was the Carians who first taught the 
+wearing of crests on their helmets and devices on 
+their shields, and who first made for their shields 
+holders; till then all who used shields carried 
+them without these holders, and guided them 
+with leathern baldrics which they slung round 
+
+
+213 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+\ . N ^ , e ^ 
+μενοι. μετὰ δὲ τοὺς Kápas χρόνῳ ὕστερον πολλῷ 
+Δωριέες τε καὶ Ίωνες ἐξανέστησαν ἐκ τῶν νήσων, 
+καὶ οὕτω ἐς τὴν ἤπειρον ἀπίκοντο. κατὰ μὲν δὴ 
+Κᾶρας οὕτω Κρῆτες λέγουσι γενέσθαι" οὐ μέντοι 
+
+> [4 e L4 , e m 9 
+αὐτοί γε ὁμολογέουσι τούτοισι οἱ Κᾶρες, ἀλλὰ 
+νομίζουσι αὐτοὶ ἑωυτοὺς εἶναι αὐτόχθονας ἦπει- 
+peras, καὶ τῷ οὐνόματι τῷ αὐτῷ αἰεὶ διαχρεωμέ- 
+νους τῷ περ νῦν. ἀποδεικνῦσι δὲ ἐν Μυλάσοισι 
+Διὸς Καρίου ἱρὸν ἀρχαῖον, τοῦ Μυσοῖσι μὲν καὶ 
+Λυδοῖσι μέτεστι ὡς κασιγνήτοισι ἐοῦσι τοῖσι 
+Kapci: τὸν γὰρ Λυδὸν καὶ τὸν Μυσὸν λέγουσι 
+a b! , 4 / Ν M , 
+εἶναι Καρὸς ἀδελφεούς. τούτοισι μὲν δὴ μέτεστι, 
+ο . 97 y » € , ^ 
+ὅσοι δὲ ἐόντες ἄλλου ἔθνεος ὁμόγλωσσοι τοῖσι 
+Καρσὶ ἐγένοντο, τούτοισι δὲ οὐ μέτα. 
+
+173. Οἱ δὲ Καύνιοι αὐτόχθονες δοκέειν ἐμοὶ 
+εἰσί, αὐτοὶ μέντοι ἐκ Κρήτης φασὶ εἶναι. προσ- 
+κεχωρήκασι δὲ γλῶσσαν μὲν πρὸς τὸ Καρικὸν 
+» A e ^ ` ` , ^ ` 
+ἔθνος, ἢ οἱ Κᾶρες πρὸς τὸ Καυνικόν (τοῦτο γὰρ 
+οὐκ ἔχω ἀτρεκέως διακρῖναι), νόμοισι δὲ χρέωνται 
+κεχωρισμένοισι πολλὸν τῶν τε ἄλλων ἀνθρώπων 
+καὶ Καρῶν. τοῖσι γὰρ κάλλεστον ἐστὶ κατ᾿ 
+ἡλικίην τε καὶ φιλότητα εἰλαδὸν συγγίνεσθαι ἐς 
+πόσιν, καὶ ἀνδράσι καὶ γυναιξὶ καὶ παισί. ἱδρυ- 
+θέντων δέ σφι ἱρῶν ξεινικῶν, μετέπειτα ὥς σφι 
+» / » . ^ / ^ ^ 
+ἀπέδοξε, ἔδοξε δὲ τοῖσι πατρίοισι μοῦνον χρᾶσθαι 
+θεοῖσι, ἐνδύντες τὰ ὅπλα ἅπαντες Καύνιοι ἡβηδόν, 
+τύπτοντες δόρασι τὸν ἠέρα, μέχρι οὔρων τῶν 
+Καλυνδικῶν εἵποντο, καὶ ἔφασαν ἐκβάλλειν τοὺς 
+
+4 /, 
+ξεινικοὺς θεούς. 
+
+
+214 
+
+
+BOOK I. 171-172 
+
+
+the neck and over the left shoulder! Then, a 
+long time afterwards, the Carians were driven from 
+the islands by Dorians and Ionians and so came to 
+the mainland. This is the Cretan story about the 
+ Carians; but they themselves do not consent to it, 
+but hold that they are aboriginal dwellers on the 
+mainland and ever bore the name which they bear 
+now; and they point to an ancient shrine of Carian 
+Zeus at Mylasa, whereto Mysians and Lydians, as 
+brethren of the Carians (for Lydus and Mysus, they 
+say, were brothers of Car), are admitted, but none of Ἢ 
+any other nation, though they learned to speak 
+the same language as the Carians. 
+
+172. The Caunians, to my mind, are aborigines of 
+the soil; but they themselves say that they came 
+from Crete. Their speech has grown like to the 
+Carian, or the Carian to theirs (for that I cannot 
+clearly determine), but in their customs they are 
+widely severed from the Carians, as from all other 
+men. Their chief pleasure is to assemble for drink- 
+ing-bouts in such companies as accord with their 
+ages and friendships—men, women, and children. 
+Certain foreign rites of worship were established 
+among them; but presently when they were other- 
+wise minded, and would worship only the gods of 
+their fathers, all Caunian men of full age put on their 
+armour and went together as far as the boundaries 
+of Calynda, smiting the air with their spears and 
+saying that they were casting out the stranger gods. 
+
+
+1 This is the management of the Homeric ‘‘man-covering” 
+shield, as shown in the Iliad. The shield is not carried on 
+the arm, but hangs by a belt which passes over the left 
+shoulder and under the right arm-pit; by a pull on the 
+τελαμών it can be shifted so as to protect breast or back. 
+
+
+215 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+173. Καὶ οὗτοι μὲν τρόποισι τοιούτοισι χρέ- 
+ωνται, οἱ δὲ Λύκιοι ἐκ Κρήτης τὠρχαῖον γεγόνασι 
+(τὴν γὰρ Κρήτην εἶχον τὸ παλαιὸν πᾶσαν βάρ- 
+Bapor) διενειχθέντων δὲ ἐν Κρήτῃ περὶ τῆς 
+βασιληίης τῶν Ἐὐρώπης παίδων Σαρπηδόνος τε 
+καὶ Μίνω, ὡς ἐπεκράτησε τῇ στάσι Μίνως, ἐξή- 
+λασε αὐτόν τε Σαρπηδόνα καὶ τοὺς στασιώτας 
+αὐτοῦ, οἳ δὲ ἀπωσθέντες ἀπίκοντο τῆς ᾿Ασίης ἐς 
+γῆν τὴν Μιλυάδα: τὴν γὰρ νῦν Λύκιοι νέμονται, 
+αὕτη τὸ παλαιὸν ἦν Μιλυάς, οἱ δὲ Μιλύαι τότε 
+Σόλυμοι ἐκαλέοντο. ἕως μὲν δὴ αὐτῶν Σαρπηδὼν 
+ἦρχε, οἳ δὲ ἐκαλέοντο τό πέρ τε ἠνείκαντο οὔνομα 
+καὶ νῦν ἔτι καλέονται ὑπὸ τῶν περιοίκων οἱ 
+Λύκιοι, Τερμίλαι ὡς δὲ ἐξ ᾿Αθηνέων Λύκος ὁ 
+Πανδίονος, ἐξελασθεὶς καὶ οὗτος ὑπὸ τοῦ ἀδελ. 
+φεοῦ Λἰγέος, ἀπίκετο ἐς τοὺς Τερμίλας παρὰ 
+Σαρπηδόνα, οὕτω δὴ κατὰ τοῦ Λύκου τὴν ἐπωνυ- 
+μίην Λύκιοι ἀνὰ χρόνον ἐκλήθησαν. νόμοισι δὲ 
+τὰ μὲν Κρητικοῖσι τὰ δὲ Καρικοῖσι χρέωνται. ἓν 
+δὲ τόδε ἴδιον νενομίκασι καὶ οὐδαμοῖσι ἄλλοισι 
+συμφέρονται ἀνθρώπων" καλέουσι ἀπὸ τῶν μητέ- 
+
+e ^ : 
+ρων ἑωυτοὺς καὶ οὐκὶ ἀπὸ τῶν πατέρων’ εἰρομένου 
+δὲ ἑτέρου τὸν πλησίον τίς εἴη, καταλέξει ἑωυτὸν 
+μητρόθεν καὶ τῆς μητρὸς ἀνανεμέεται τὰς μητέρας. 
+καὶ ἣν μέν γε γυνὴ adorn δούλῳ συνοικήσῃ, yev- 
+vata τὰ τέκνα νενόμισται" ἣν δὲ ἀνὴρ ἀστὸς καὶ 
+ὁ πρῶτος αὐτῶν γυναῖκα ξείνην ἢ παλλακὴν ἔχῃ, 
+ἄτιμα τὰ τέκνα γίνεται. 
+
+114. Οἱ μέν νυν Κᾶρες οὐδὲν λαμπρὸν ἔργον 
+ἀποδεξάμενοι ἐδουλώθησαν ὑπὸ ᾿Αρπάγου, οὔτε 
+αὐτοὶ οἱ Κᾶρες ἀποδεξάμενοι οὐδέν, οὔτε ὅσοι 
+Ελλήνων ταύτην τὴν χώρην οἰκέουσι' οἰκέουσι 
+216 
+
+
+BOOK I. 173-174 
+
+
+173. Such are their fashions. The Lycians were 
+of Crete in ancient times (for of old none that dwelt 
+in Crete were Greek), Now there was a dispute in 
+Crete about the royal power between Sarpedon and 
+Minos, sons of Europe; Minos prevailed in this 
+division and drove out Sarpedon and his partisans ; 
+who, being thrust out, came to the Milyan land in 
+Asia. What is now possessed by the Lycians was of 
+old Milyan, and the Milyans were then called Solymi. 
+For a while Sarpedon ruled them, and the people 
+were called Termilae, which was the name that they 
+had brought with them and that is still given to the 
+Lycians by their neighbours ; but after the coming 
+from Athens of Lycus son of Pandion—another exile, 
+another exile, banished by his brother Aegeus—to 
+join Sarpedon in the land of the Termilae, they 
+came in time to be called Lycians after Lycus. Their 
+customs are in part Cretan and in part Carian. But 
+they have one which is their own and shared by no 
+other men; they take their names not from their 
+fathers but from their mothers; and when one is 
+asked by his neighbour who he is, he will say that 
+he is the son of such a mother, and recount the 
+mothers of his mother. Nay, if a woman of full 
+rights marry a slave, her children are deemed pure- 
+born; and if a true-born Lycian man take a stranger 
+wife or concubine, the children are dishonoured, 
+though he be the first in the land. 
+
+174. Neither then the Carians nor any Greeks 
+who dwell in this country did any deed of note 
+before they were all enslaved by Harpagus. Among 
+
+
+217 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δὲ καὶ ἄλλοι καὶ Λακεδαιμονίων ἄποικοι Κνίδιοι. 
+οἳ τῆς χώρης τῆς σφετέρης τετραμμένης͵ ἐς 
+πόντον, τὸ δὴ Τριόπιον καλέεται, ἀργμένης 
+δὲ é ἐκ τῆς Χερσονήσου τῆς Βυβασσίης, ἐούσης τε 
+πάσης τῆς Κνιδίης πλὴν ὀλύγης περιρρόου (τὰ 
+μὲν γὰρ αὐτῆς πρὸς βορέην ἄνεμον. ὁ Κεραμεικὸς 
+κόλπος ἀπέργει, τὰ δὲ πρὸς νότον ἡ κατὰ Σύμην 
+τε καὶ Ῥόδον (θάλασσα), τὸ ὧν δὴ ὀλίγον τοῦτο, 
+ἐὸν ὅσον τε ἐπὶ πέντε στάδια, ὤ ὤρυσσον οἱ Κνίδιοι 
+ἐν ὅσῳ "Αρπαγος Tv , lovíqv κατεστρέφετο, 
+βουλόμενοι νῆσον τὴν χώρην ποιῆσαι. ἐντὸς δὲ 
+πᾶσά σφι ἐγίνετο" τῇ γὰρ ἡ Κνιδίη χώρη ἐς τὴν 
+ἤπειρον τελευτᾷ, ταύτῃ ὁ ἰσθμός ἐστι τὸν ὥρυσ- 
+σον. καὶ δὴ πολλῇ χειρὶ ἐργαζομένων τῶν Kr- 
+δίων, μᾶλλον γάρ τι καὶ θειότερον, ἐφαίνοντο | 
+τιτρώσκεσθαι͵ οἱ ἐργαξόμενοι τοῦ οἰκότος τά τε 
+ἄλλα τοῦ σώματος καὶ μάλιστα τὰ περὶ τοὺς 
+ὀφθαλμοὺς θραυοµένης τῆς πέτρης, ἔπεμπον ἐς 
+Δελφοὺς θεοπρόπους ἐπειρησομένους τὸ ἀντίξοον. 
+ἡ δὲ Πυθίη σφι, ὡς αὐτοὶ Κνίδιοι λέγουσι, χρᾶ ἐν 
+
+
+πριμέτρῳ τόνῳ τάδε. 
+
+
+Ἰσθμὸν δὲ μὴ πυργοῦτε μηδ᾽ ὀρύσσετε' 
+Ζεὺς γάρ κ᾿ ἔθηκε νῆσον, εἴ κ᾿ ἐβούλετο. 
+
+
+Κνίδιοι μὲν ταῦτα τῆς Ἠυθίης χρησάσης τοῦ τε 
+ὀρύγματος ἐπαύσαντο καὶ Ἁρπάγῳ ἐπιόντι σὺν 
+τῷ στρατῷ ἀμαχητὶ σφέας αὐτοὺς παρέδοσαν. 
+175. "Heap Ò Πηδασέες | οἰκέοντες ὑπὲρ ᾿Αλιι- 
+καρνησσοῦ μεσόγαιαν" τοῖσι ὅκως τι μέλλοι 
+ἀνεπιτήδεον ἔσεσθαι, αὐτοῖσί τε καὶ τοῖσι περιού- 
+κοισι, ἡ ἑρείη τῆς ᾿Αθηναίης πώγωνα μέγαν ἴσχε. 
+τρίς σφι τοῦτο ἐγένετο. οὗτοι τῶν περὶ Καρίην — 
+
+
+218 
+
+
+BOOK I. 174-175 
+
+
+those who inhabit it are certain Cnidians, colonists 
+from Lacedaemon. Their country (it is called the 
+Triopion) lies between the sea and that part of the 
+peninsula which belongs to Bubassus, and all but a 
+little part of the Cnidian territory is sea-girt; for it 
+is bounded on the north by the gulf of Ceramieus, 
+and on the south by the sea off Syme and Rhodes. 
+Now while Harpagus was conquering lonia, the 
+Cnidians dug a trench actoss this little space, which 
+is about five furlongs wide, in order that so their 
+country might be an island. 9ο they brought it all 
+within the entrenchment; for the frontier between 
+the Cnidian country and the mainland is on the 
+isthmus across which they dug. Many of them 
+were at this work ; and seeing that the workers were 
+more often hurt and less naturally than ordinary, 
+some in other parts, but most in the eyes, by the 
+breaking of stones, the Cnidians sent envoys to 
+Delphi to inquire what it was that so hindered them. 
+Then, as they themselves say, the priestess gave 
+them this answer in iambic verse: 
+
+
+« Nor wall nor dig across your isthmus; long ago 
+Your land had been an isle, if Zeus had willed 
+it so." 
+
+
+At this answer from the priestess the Cnidians ceased 
+from their digging, and when Harpagus came against 
+them with his army they surrendered to him without 
+resistance. l 
+
+175. There were also certain folk of Pedasa, 
+
+
+dwelling inland of Halicarnassus ; when any mis- 
+
+
+fortune was coming upon them or their neighbours, 
+the priestess of Athene grew a great beard. This 
+had happened to them thrice. These were the only 
+
+
+210 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἀνδρῶν μοῦνοί τε ἀντέσχον χρόνον ᾿Αρπάγῳ καὶ 
+πρήγματα su qd on πλεῖστα, ὄρος τειχίσαντες 
+τῷ οὔνομα ἐστὶ Λίδη. 
+
+176. Πηδασέες μέν νυν χρόνῳ ἐξαιρέθησαν" 
+Λύκιοι δέ, ὡς ἐς τὸ Ἐάνθιον πεδίον ἤλασε ὁ 
+“ΑΆρπαγος τὸν στρατόν, ἐπεξιόντες καὶ μαχόμενοι 
+ὀλίγοι πρὸς πολλοὺς ἀρετὰς ἀπεδείκνυντο, ÉCO W- 
+θέντες δὲ καὶ κατειληθέντες ἐς τὸ ἄστυ συνήλισαν 
+ἐς τὴν ἀκρόπολιν τάς τε γυναῖκας καὶ τὰ τέκνα 
+καὶ τὰ χρήματα καὶ τοὺς οἰκέτας, καὶ ἔπειτα 
+ὑπῆψαν τὴν ἀκρόπολιν πᾶσαν ταύτην καίεσθαι. 
+ταῦτα δὲ ποιήσαντες καὶ συνομόσαντες ὅρκους 
+δεινούς, ἐπεξελθόντες ἀπέθανον πάντες Ξάνθιοι 
+μαχόμενοι. τῶν δὲ νῦν Λυκίων φαμένων Ἐανθίων 
+εἶναι οἱ πολλοί, πλὴν ὀγδώκοντα ἱστιέων, εἰσὶ 
+ἐπήλυδες αἱ δὲ ὀγδώκοντα (aria, αὗται ἔτυχον 
+τηνικαῦτα ἐκδημέουσαι καὶ οὕτω περιεγένοντο. 
+τὴν μὲν δὴ Ἐάνθον οὕτω ἔσχε ὁ "Αρπαγος, tapa- 
+πλησίως δὲ καὶ τὴν Καῦνον ἔσχε' καὶ γὰρ οἱ 
+Καύνιοι τοὺς Λυκίους ἐμιμήσαντο τὰ πλέω. 
+
+177. Τὰ μέν νυν κάτω τῆς ᾿Ασίης "Αρπαγος 
+ἀνάστατα ἐποίεε, τὰ δὲ ἄνω αὐτῆς αὐτὸς Κῦρος, 
+πᾶν ἔθνος καταστρεφόμενος καὶ οὐδὲν παριείς. τὰ 
+μέν νυν αὐτῶν πλέω παρήσομεν: τὰ δέ οἱ Tapé- 
+σχε TE πόνον πλεῖστον καὶ ἀξιαπηγητότατα ἐστί, 
+τούτων ἐπιμνήσομαι. 
+
+118. Κῦρος ἐπείτε τὰ πάντα τῆς ἠπείρου ὗπο- 
+
+είρια ἐποιήσατο, ᾿Ασσυρίοισι ἐπετίθετο. τῆς δὲ 
+Ασσυρίης ἐστὶ μέν κου καὶ ἄλλα πολίσματα 
+μεγάλα πολλά, τὸ δὲ ὀνομαστότατον καὶ ἰσχυρό- 
+τατον καὶ ἔνθα σφι Νίνου ἀναστάτου γενομένης 
+τὰ βασιλήια κατεστήκεε, ἦν Βαβυλών, ἐοῦσα 
+
+
+220 
+
+
+BOOK I. 175-178 
+
+
+men near Caria who held out for long against Har- 
+pagus, and they gave him the most trouble; they 
+fortified a hill called Lide. 
+
+176. The Pedasian stronghold being at length 
+taken, and Harpagus having led his army into the 
+plain of Xanthus, the Lycians came out to meet him, 
+and did valorous deeds in their battle against odds; 
+but being worsted and driven into the city they 
+gathered into the citadel their wives and children 
+and goods and servants, and then set the whole 
+citadel on fire. Then they swore each other great 
+oaths, and sallying out they fell fighting, all the 
+men of Xanthus. Of the Xanthians who claim 
+now to be Lycians the greater number—all saving 
+eighty households—are -of foreign descent; these 
+eighty families as it chanced were at that time 
+away from the city, and thus they survived. Thus 
+Harpagus gained Xanthus, and Caunus too in some- 
+what like manner, the Caunians following for the 
+most part the example of the Lycians. 
+
+177. Harpagus then made havoc of lower Asia; 
+in the upper country Cyrus himself subdued every 
+nation, leaving none untouched. Of the greater 
+part of these I will say nothing, but will speak only 
+of those which gave Cyrus most trouble and are 
+worthiest to be described. 
+
+178. When Cyrus had brought all the mainland 
+under his sway, he attacked the Assyrians. There 
+are in Assyria many other great cities; but the most 
+famous and the strongest was Babylon, where the 
+royal dwelling had been set after the destruction 
+of Ninus! Babylon was a city such as I will now 
+
+
+1606 r.c. Ninus = Nineveh. 
+
+
+41. 
+
+
+Er 
+
+
+b. 
+
+
+EE 
+
+
++ 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τοιαύτη δή τις πόλις. κέεται ἐν πεδίῳ μεγάλῳ, 
+μέγαθος ἐοῦσα μέτωπον ἕκαστον εἴκοσι καὶ ἑκατὸν 
+σταδίων, ἐούσης τετραγώνου: οὗτοι στάδιοι τῆς 
+περιόδου τῆς πόλιος γίνονται συνάπαντες ὀγδώ- 
+κοντα καὶ τετρακόσιοι. τὸ μέν νυν μέγαθος 
+τοσοῦτον ἐστὶ τοῦ ἄστεος τοῦ Βαβυλωνίου, ἐκε- 
+κόσμητο δὲ ὡς οὐδὲν ἄλλο πόλισμα τῶν ἡμεῖς 
+ἴδμεν. τάφρος μὲν πρῶτά μιν βαθέα τε καὶ εὐρέα 
+καὶ πλέη ὕδατος περιθέει, μετὰ δὲ τεῖχος πεντή- 
+κοντα μὲν πηχέων βασιληίων ἐὸν τὸ εὖρος, ὕψος 
+δὲ διηκοσίων πηχέων: ὁ δὲ βασιλήιος πῆχυς τοῦ 
+μετρίου ἐστὶ πήχεος μέζων τρισὶ δακτύλοισι. 
+
+179. Δεῖ δή µε πρὸς τούτοισι ἔτι φράσαι ἵνα 
+τε ἐκ τῆς τάφρου ἡ γῆ ἀναισιμώθη, καὶ τὸ τεῖχος 
+ὄντινα τρόπον ἔργαστο. ὀρύσσοντες ἅμα τὴν 
+τάφρον ἐπλίνθευον τὴν γῆν τὴν ἐκ τοῦ ὀρύγματος 
+ἐκφερομένην, ἑλκύσαντες δὲ πλίνθους ἱκανὰς 
+ὤπτησαν αὐτὰς ἐν καμίνοισι' μετὰ δὲ τέλματι 
+χρεώμενοι ἀσφάλτῳ θερμῇ καὶ διὰ τριήκοντα 
+δόμων πλίνθου ταρσοὺς καλάμων διαστοιβά- 
+ἕοντες, ἔδειμαν πρῶτα μὲν τῆς τάφρου τὰ χείλεα, 
+δεύτερα δὲ αὐτὸ τὸ τεῖχος τὸν αὐτὸν τρόπον. 
+ἐπάνω δὲ τοῦ τείχεος παρὰ τὰ ἔσχατα οἰκήματα 
+μουνόκωλα ἔδειμαν, τετραμμένα ἐς ἄλληλα: τὸ 
+μέσον δὲ τῶν οἰκημάτων ἔλιπον τεθρίππῳ περιέ- 
+λασιν. πύλαι δὲ ἐνεστᾶσι πέριξ τοῦ τείχεος 
+ἑκατόν, χάλκεαι πᾶσαι, καὶ σταθμοί τε καὶ 
+ὑπέρθυρα ὡσαύτως. ἔστι δὲ ἄλλη πόλις aré- 
+χουσα ὀκτὼ ἡμερέων ὁδὸν ἀπὸ Βαβυλῶνος s 
+οὔνομα αὐτῇ. ἔνθα ἐστὶ ποταμὸς οὐ μέγας’ “Is 
+καὶ τῷ.ποταμῷ τὸ οὔνομα' ἐσβάλλει δὲ οὗτος ἐς 
+τὸν Εὐφρήτην ποταμὸν τὸ ῥέεθρον. οὗτος ὧν 
+222 
+
+
+BOOK I. 178-179 
+
+
+describe. It lies in a great plain, and is in shape a 
+square, each side an hundred and twenty furlongs in 
+length; thus four hundred and eighty furlongs make 
+the complete circuit of the city. Such is the size of 
+the city of Babylon; and it was planned like no other 
+city whereof we know. Round it runs first a fosse 
+deep and wide and full of water, and then a wall of 
+fifty royal cubits’ thickness and two hundred cubits’ 
+height. The royal cubit is greater by three fingers’ 
+breadth than the common cubit.! 
+
+179. Further, I must show where the earth was 
+used as it was taken from the fosse and in what 
+manner the wall was wrought. As they dug the 
+fosse, they made bricks of the earth which was 
+carried out of the place-they dug, and when they 
+had moulded bricks enough they baked them in 
+ovens; then using hot bitumen for cement and 
+interposing layers of wattled reeds at every thirtieth 
+course of bricks, they built first the border of the 
+fosse and then the wall itself in the same fashion. 
+On the top, along the edges of the wall, they built 
+houses of a single chamber, facing each other, with 
+space enough between for the driving of a four-horse 
+chariot. There are an hundred gates in the circle of the 
+wall, all of bronze, with posts and lintels of the same. 
+There is another city, called Is,? eight days’ journey 
+from Babylon, where is a little river, also named Is, 
+a tributary stream of the river Euphrates; from the 
+
+
+1 Common cubit, 184 inches: royal, 204. 
+2 The modern Hit or Ait, where the Euphrates enters the 
+alluvial plain. 
+
+
+223 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὁ "Is ποταμὸς ἅμα τῷ ὕδατι θρόμβους ἀσφάλτου 
+ἀναδιδοῖ πολλούς, ἔνθεν ἡ ἄσφαλτος ἐς τὸ ἐν 
+Βαβυλῶνι τεῖχος ἐκομίσθη. 
+
+180. Ἐτετείχιστο μέν νυν ý Βαβυλὼν τρόπῳ 
+τοιῷδε, ἔ ἔστι δὲ δύο φάρσεα τῆς πόλιος, τὸ γὰρ 
+μέσον αὐτῆς. ποταμὸς διέργει, τῷ οὔνομα ἐστὶ 
+Εὐφρήτης' ῥέει. δὲ ἐξ ' Αρμενίων, ἐὼν μέγας καὶ 
+βαθὺς καὶ ταχύς᾽ ἐξιεῖ δὲ οὗτος ἐς τὴν ᾿Ερυθρὴν 
+θάλασσαν. τὸ ὧν δὴ τεῖχος ἑκάτερον τοὺς 
+ἀγκῶνας ἐς τὸν ποταμὸν ἐλήλαται' τὸ δὲ ἀπὸ 
+τούτου αἱ ἐπικαμπαὶ παρὰ χεῖλος ἑκάτερον τοῦ 
+ποταμοῦ αἱμασιὴ πλίνθων ὁπτέων παρατείνει. 
+τὸ δὲ ἄστυ αὐτό, ἐὸν πλῆρες οἰκιέων τριωρόφων 
+καὶ τετρωρόφων, κατατέτµηται τὼς ὁδοὺς ἰθέας 
+τάς τε ἄλλας καὶ τὰς ἐπικαρσίας τὰς ἐπὶ τὸν 
+ποταμὸν ἐχούσας. κατὰ δὴ ὧν ἑκάστην ὁδὸν ἐν 
+τῇ αἱμασιῇ τῇ παρὰ τὸν ποταμὸν πυλίδες ἐπῆ- 
+σαν, ὅσαι περ αἱ λαῦραι, τοσαῦται ἀριθμόν' ἧσαν 
+δὲ καὶ αὗται χάλκεαι].. . φέρουσαι [καὶ αὐταὶ] 
+ἐς αὐτὸν τὸν ποταμόν. 
+
+181. Τοῦτο μὲν δὴ τὸ τεῖχος θώρηξ ἐστί, ἕτερον 
+δὲ ἔσωθεν τεῖχος περιθέει, οὐ πολλῷ TEW ἀσθενέ- 
+στερον τοῦ ἑτέρου τείχεος, στεινότερον δέ. ἐν δὲ 
+φάρσεϊ ἑκατέρῳ τῆς πόλιος ἐτετείχιστο ἐν μέσῳ 
+ἐν τῷ μὲν τὰ βασιλήια περιβόλῳ μεγάλῳ τε καὶ 
+ἐσχυρῷ, ἐν δὲ τῷ ἑτέρῳ Διὸς Βήλου ἐρὸν χαλκό- 
+πυλον, καὶ ἐς ἐμὲ ἔτι τοῦτο ἐόν, δύο σταδίων 
+πάντῃ, ἐὸν τετράγωνον. ἐν μέσῳ δὲ τοῦ ἱροῦ 
+πύργος στερεὸς οἰκοδόμηται, σταδίου καὶ τὸ μῆκος 
+καὶ τὸ εὖρος, καὶ ἐπὶ τούτῳ τῷ πύργῳ ἄλλος 
+
+
+1 Stein supposes that there was here a mention of steps 
+leading to theriver, and that καὶ αὐταί is needless and spurious. 
+
+
+224 
+
+
+BOOK I. 179-181 
+
+
+source of this river Is rise with the water many 
+gouts of bitumen; and from thence the bitumen was 
+brought for the wall of Babylon. 
+
+180. Thus then was this wall built; the city is 
+divided into two parts; for it is cut in half by a 
+river named Euphrates, a wide, deep, and swift river, 
+flowing from Armenia and issuing into the Red Sea. 
+The ends of the wall, then, on either side are built 
+quite down to the river; here they turn, and hence 
+a fence of baked bricks runs along each bank of the 
+stream. The city itself is full of houses three and 
+four stories high ; and the ways which traverse it— 
+those that run crosswise towards the river, and the 
+rest—are all straight. Further, at the end of each 
+road there was a gate in the riverside fence, one 
+gate for eaeh alley ; these gates also were of bronze, 
+and these too opened on the river. 
+
+181. These walls are the city's outer armour; 
+within them there is another encircling wall, well- 
+nigh as strong as the other, but narrower. In the 
+midmost of one division of the city stands the royal 
+palace, surrounded by a high and strong wall; and 
+in the midmost of the other is still to this day the 
+sacred enclosure of Zeus Belus,! a square of two fur- 
+longs each way, with gates of bronze. In the centre 
+of this enclosure a solid tower has been built, of one 
+furlong's length and breadth; a second tower rises 
+
+
+1 Bel or Baal, the greatest of Assyrian gods, 
+
+
+225 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+πύργος ἐπιβέβηκε, καὶ ἕτερος µάλα ἐπὶ τούτῳ, 
+µέχρι οὗ ὀκτὼ πύργων. ἀνάβασις δὲ ἐς αὐτοὺς 
+ἔξωθεν κύκλῳ περὶ πάντας τοὺς πύργους ἔχουσα 
+πεποίηται. μεσοῦντι δέ κου τῆς ἀναβάσιος ἐστὶ 
+καταγωγή τε καὶ θῶκοι ἀμπαυστήριοι, ἐν τοῖσι 
+κατίζοντες ἀμπαύονται οἱ ἀναβαίνοντες. ἐν δὲ 
+τῷ τελευταίῳ πύργῳ νηὸς ἔπεστι μέγας" ἐν δὲ τῷ 
+νηῷ κλίνη μεγάλη κέεται εὖ ἐστρωμένη, καί οἱ 
+τράπεζα παρακέεται χρυσέη. ἄγαλμα δὲ οὐκ ἔνι 
+οὐδὲν αὐτόθι ἐνιδρυμένον, οὐδὲ νύκτα οὐδεὶς ἐναυ- 
+λίζεται ἀνθρώπων ὅτι μὴ γυνὴ μούνη τῶν ἐπι- 
+χωρίων, τὴν ἂν ὁ θεὸς ἕληται ἐκ πασέων, ὡς 
+λέγουσι οἱ Χαλδαῖοι ἐόντες ἱρέε τούτου τοῦ 
+θεοῦ. 
+
+182. Φασὶ δὲ οἱ αὐτοὶ οὗτοι, ἐμοὶ μὲν οὐ 
+πιστὰ λέγοντες, τὸν θεὸν αὐτὸν φοιτᾶν τε ἐς 
+τὸν νγὸν καὶ ἀμπαύεσθαι ἐπὶ τῆς κλίνης, κατά 
+περ ἐν Θήβῃσι τῆσι Αἰγυπτίῃσι κατὰ τὸν αὐτὸν 
+τρόπον, ὡς λέγουσι οἱ Αἰγύπτιοι: καὶ yap δὴ 
+ἐκεῖθι κοιμᾶται ἐν τῷ τοῦ Διὸς τοῦ Θηβαιέος 
+γυνή, ἀμφότεραι δὲ αὗται λέγονται ἀνδρῶν οὐ- 
+δαμῶν ἐς ὁμιλίην φοιτᾶν: καὶ κατά περ ἐν 
+Πατάροισι τῆς Λυκίης ἡ πρόμαντις τοῦ θεοῦ, 
+ἐπεὰν γένηται: οὐ γὰρ ὧν αἰεί ἐστι χρηστήριον 
+αὐτόθι: ἐπεὰν δὲ γένηται τότε ὧν συγκατακλη- 
+ierat τὰς νύκτας ἔσω ἐν τῷ νηῷ. 
+
+188. "Ἔστι δὲ τοῦ ἐν Βαβυλῶνι ἱροῦ καὶ ἄλλος 
+κάτω νηός, ἔνθα ἄγαλμα μέγα τοῦ Διὸς ἔνι 
+κατήμενον χρύσεον, καί οἱ τράπεζα μεγάλη παρα- 
+κέεται χρυσέη, καὶ τὸ βάθρον οἱ καὶ ὁ θρόνος 
+χρύσεος ἐστί’ καὶ ὡς ἔλεγον οἱ Χαλδαῖοι, tarav- 
+των ὀκτακοσίων χρυσίου πεποίηται ταῦτα. ἔξω 
+
+
+226 
+
+
+BOOK I. 181-183 
+
+
+from this, and from it yet another, till at last there 
+are eight. The way up to them mounts spirally 
+outside all the towers; about halfway in the ascent 
+is a halting place, with seats for repose, where those 
+who ascend sit down and rest. In the last tower 
+there is a great shrine; and in it a great and well- 
+covered couch is laid, and a golden table set hard 
+by. But no image has been set up in the shrine, 
+nor does any human creature lie therein for the 
+night, except one native woman, chosen from all 
+women by the god, as say the Chaldaeans, who are 
+priests of this god. 
+
+182. These same Chaldaeans say (but I do not 
+believe them) that the god himself is wont to visit 
+the shrine and rest upon the couch, even as in Thebes 
+of Egypt, as the, Egyptians say (for there too a 
+woman sleeps in the temple of Theban Zeus,! and 
+neither the Egyptian nor the Babylonian woman, it 
+is said, has intercourse with men), and as it is like- 
+wise with the prophetess of the god? at Patara in 
+Lycia, whenever she be appointed ; for there is not 
+always a place of divination there; but when she is 
+appointed she is shut up in the temple during the 
+night. 
+
+183. Inthe Babyloniantemple there is anothershrine 
+below, where is a great golden image of Zeus, sitting 
+at a great golden table, and the footstool and the chair 
+are also of gold; the gold of the whole was said by 
+
+
+the Chaldeans to be of eight hundred talents’ weight. 
+2 Amon-Api (Greek ᾽Αμένωϕις) ; cp. ii. 42, 3 Apollo. 
+| 227 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δὲ τοῦ νηοῦ βωμός ἐστι . χρύσεος, ἔστι δὲ καὶ 
+ἕλλος βωμὸς μέγας, ἐπ᾽ οὗ θύεται τὰ τέλεα τῶν 
+προβάτων: ἐπὶ γὰρ τοῦ χρυσέου βωμοῦ οὐκ 
+ἔξεστι θύειν ὅτι μὴ γαλαθηνὰ μοῦνα, ἐπὶ δὲ τοῦ 
+μέξονος βωμοῦ καὶ καταγίξουσι λιβανωτοῦ χίλια 
+τάλαντα ἔτεος ἑκάστου οἱ Χαλδαῖοι τότε ἐπεὰν 
+τὴν .ὁρτὴν ἄγωσι τῷ θεῷ. τούτῳ. ἦν δὲ ἐν τῷ 
+Teuévei τούτῳ ἔτι τὸν χρόνον ἐκεῖνον καὶ ἀνδριὰς 
+δυώδεκα πηχέων χρύσεος στερεός" ἐγὼ μέν μιν 
+οὐκ εἶδον, τὰ δὲ λέγεται ὑπὸ Χαλδαίων, ταῦτα 
+λέγω. τούτῳ τῷ ἀνδριάντι Δαρεῖος μὲν ὁ Torá- 
+σπεος ἐπιβουλεύσας οὐκ ἐτόλμησε. λαβεῖν, E E ép- 
+ἕης δὲ ὁ Δαρείου ἔλαβε καὶ τὸν ipéa ἀπέκτεινε 
+ἀπαγορεύοντα μὴ κινέειν τὸν ἀνδριάντα. τὸ μὲν. 
+δὴ ἐρὸν τοῦτο οὕτω κεκόσμηται, ἔστι δὲ καὶ ἴδια 
+ἀναθήματα πολλά. 
+
+184. Τῆς δὲ Βαβυλῶνος ταύτης πολλοὶ μέν 
+κου καὶ ἄλλοι ἐγένοντο βασιλέες, τῶν ἐν τοῖσι 
+᾿Ασσυρίοισι λόγοισι μνήμην ποιήσομαι, οἳ τὰ 
+τεύχεά τε ἐπεκόσμησαν καὶ τὰ ἱρά, ἐν δὲ δὴ καὶ 
+γυναῖκες δύο. ἡ μὲν πρότερον ἄρξασα, τῆς 
+ὕστερον γενεῇσι πέντε πρότερον γενομένη, τῇ 
+οὔνομα ἦν Σεμίραμις, αὕτη μὲν ἀπεδέξατο χώματα 
+ἀνὰ τὸ πεδίον ἐόντα. ἀξιοθέητα- πρότερον δὲ 
+ἐώθεε ὁ ποταμὸς ἀνὰ τὸ πεδίον πᾶν πελαγίξειν. 
+
+185. Ἡ δὲ δὲ δεύτερον γενομένη ταύτης βασί- 
+λεία, τῇ οὔνομα ἦν Νίτωκρις, αὕτη. δὲ συνετωτέρη 
+γενομένη τῆς πρότερον ἀρξάσης τοῦτο μὲν μνημό- 
+συνα ἐλύπετο τὰ ἐγὼ ἀπηγήσομαι, τοῦτο δὲ τὴν 
+Μήδων ὁ ὁρῶσα -ἀρχὴν μεγάλην τε καὶ οὐκ ἀτρεμί- 
+ξουσαν, ἀλλ. ἄλλα τε ἀραιρημένα ἄστεα αὐτοῖσι, 
+ἐν δὲ 6% καὶ τὴν Νίνον, προεφυλάξατο ὅσα ἐδύ- 
+
+
+248 
+
+
+BOOK I. 183-185 
+
+
+Outside of the temple is a golden altar. There is 
+also another great altar, whereon are sacrificed the 
+full-grown of the flocks; only sucklings may be 
+sacrificed on the golden altar, but on the greater 
+altar the Chaldeans even offer a thousand talents' 
+weight of frankincense yearly, when they keep the 
+festival of this god ; and in the days of Cyrus there 
+was still in this sacred demesne a statue of solid 
+gold twelve cubits high. 1 myself have not seen it, 
+but I tell what is told by the Chaldeans. Darius son 
+of Hystaspes purposed to take this statue but dared 
+not; Xerxes his son took it, and slew the priest who 
+warned him not to move the statue. Such'is the 
+adornment of this temple, and there are many 
+private offerings besides. 
+
+184. Now among the many rulers of this city of 
+Babylon (of whom I shall make mention in my 
+Assyrian history), who finished the building of the 
+walls and the temples, there were two that were 
+women. The first of these lived five generations 
+earlier than the second, and her name was Semiramis : 
+it was she who built dykes on the plain, a notable 
+work; before that the whole plain was wont to be 
+flooded by the river. 
+
+185. The second queen, whose name was Nitocris, 
+was a wiser woman than the first. She left such 
+monuments as I shall record ; and moreover, seeing 
+that the rulers of Media were powerful and unresting, 
+insomuch that Ninus itself among other cities had 
+fallen before them, she took such care as she could 
+
+
+229 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+νατο μάλιστα. πρῶτα μὲν τὸν Εὐφρήτην ποτα 
+μὸν ῥέοντα πρότερον ἰθύν, ὅς σφι διὰ τῆς πόλιος 
+μέσης ῥέει, τοῦτον ἄνωθεν διώρυχας ὀρύξασα 
+οὕτω δή τι ἐποιήσε σκολιὸν ὥστε δὴ τρὶς ἐς τῶν 
+τίνα κωμέων τῶν ἐν τῇ ᾿Ασσυρίῃ ἀπικνέεται 
+ῥέων: τῇ δὲ κώμῃ οὔνομα ἐστί, ἐς τὴν ἀπικνέεται 
+ὁ Εὐφρήτης, ᾿Αρδέρικκα. καὶ vov ot ἂν ropi- 
+ζωνται ἀπὸ τῆσδε τῆς θαλάσσης ἐς Βαβυλῶνα, 
+καταπλέοντες τὸν Εὐφρήτην ποταμὸν τρίς τε ἐς 
+τὴν αὐτὴν ταύτην κώμην παραγίνονται. καὶ ἐν 
+τρισὶ ἡμέρῃσι. τοῦτο μὲν δὴ τοιοῦτον ἐποίησε, 
+χῶμα δὲ παρέχωσε παρ᾽ ἑκάτερον τοῦ ποταμοῦ 
+τὸ χεῖλος ἄξιον θώματος μέγαθος καὶ ὕψος ὅσον 
+τί ἐστί. κατύπερθε δὲ πολλῷ Βαβυλῶνος 
+ὤρυσσε ἔλυτρον κα, ὀλίγον τι παρατείνουσα 
+ἀπὸ τοῦ ποταμοῦ, βάθ ος μὲν ἐς τὸ ὕδωρ αἰεὶ 
+ὀρύσσουσα, εὖρος δὲ τὸ περίμετρον αὐτοῦ ποιεῦσα 
+εἴκοσί τε καὶ τετρακοσίων σταδίων: τὸν δὲ ὁ ὀρυσ- 
+σόμενον χοῦν ἐκ τούτου τοῦ ὀρύγματος ἀναισίμου 
+παρὰ τὰ | χείλεα τοῦ ποταμοῦ παραχέουσα. ἐπείτε 
+δέ οἱ ὀρώρυκτο, λίθους ἆ -ἀγαγομένη κρηπῖδα κύκλῳ 
+περὶ αὐτὴν ἤλασε. ἐποίεε δὲ ἀμφότερα. ταῦτα, 
+τόν τε ποταμὸν σκολιὸν καὶ τὸ ὄρυγμα πᾶν ENOS,- 
+ὡς ὅ τε ποταμὸς βραδύτερος εἴη περὶ καμπὰς 
+πολλὰς ἀγνύμενος, καὶ οἱ πλόοι ἔωσι σκολιοὶ 
+ἐς τὴν Βαβυλῶνα, ἔκ τε τῶν πλόων ἐκδέκηται 
+περίοδος τῆς λίμνης μακρή. κατὰ τοῦτο δὲ 
+ἐργάξετο τῆς χώρης τῇ αἵ τε ἐσβολαὶ ἦσαν καὶ 
+τὰ σύντομα τῆς ἐκ Μήδων ὁδοῦ, f ἵνα μὴ ἐπιμισγό- 
+μενοι οἱ Μῆδοι ἐκμανθάνοιεν αὐτῆς τὰ πρήγματα. 
+186. Ταῦτα μὲν δὴ ἐκ βάθεος περιεβάλετο, 
+τοιήνδε δὲ ἐξ αὐτῶν παρενθήκην ἐποιήσατο. τῆς 
+
+
+230 
+
+
+BOOK I. 185-186 
+
+
+for her protection. First she dealt with the river 
+Euphrates, which flows through the middle of her 
+city; this had before been straight ; but by digging 
+canals higher up she made the river so crooked that 
+its course now passes thrice by one of the Assyrian 
+villages; the village which is so approached by the 
+Euphrates is called Ardericca. And now those who 
+travel from our seas to Babylon must as they float 
+down the Euphrates spend three days in coming 
+thrice to the same village. Such was this work; 
+and she built an embankment along either shore of 
+the river, marvellous for its greatness and height. 
+Then a long way above Babylon she dug the basin of- 
+a lake, a little way aside from the river, digging 
+always deep enough to find water, and making the 
+circuit of the lake a distance of four hundred and 
+twenty furlongs; all that was dug out of the basin 
+she used to embank either edge of the river; and 
+when she had it all dug, she brought stones and 
+made therewith a coping all round the basin. Her 
+purpose in making the river to wind and turning the 
+basin into a marsh was this—that the. current might 
+be slower by reason of the many windings that broke 
+its force, and that the passages to Babylon might be 
+crooked, and that next after them should come also 
+the long circuit of the lake. All this work was done 
+in that part of the country where are the passes and 
+the shortest road from Media, that the Medes might 
+not mix with her people and learn of her affairs. 
+
+186. So she made the deep river her protection ; 
+and from this work grew another which she added to 
+
+
+231 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+πόλιος ἐούσης δύο φαρσέων, τοῦ δὲ ποταμοῦ 
+μέσον ἔχοντος, ἐπὶ τῶν πρότερον βασιλέων ὅκως 
+τις ἐθέλοι ἐκ τοῦ ἑτέρου φάρσεος ἐς τοὔτερον 
+διαβῆναι, χρῆν πλοίῳ διαβαίνειν, καὶ ἦν, ὡς 
+ἐγὼ δοκέω, ὀχληρὸν τοῦτο. αὕτη δὲ καὶ τοῦτο 
+προεῖδε. ἐπείτε γὰρ ὤρυσσε τὸ ἔλυτρον τῇ λίμνῃ, 
+μνημόσυνον τόδε ἆλλο ἀπὸ τοῦ αὐτοῦ ἔργου ἐλί- 
+πετο' ἐτάμνετο λίθους περιµήκεας, ὡς δέ οἱ ἦσαν οἱ 
+λίθοι ἕτοιμοι καὶ τὸ χωρίον ὀρώρυκτο, ἐκτρέψασα 
+τοῦ ποταμοῦ τὸ ῥέεθρον πᾶν ἐς τὸ ὥρυσσε χωρίον, 
+ἐν ᾧ ἐπίμπλατο τοῦτο, ἐν τούτῳ ἀπεξηρασμένου 
+τοῦ ἀρχαίου ῥεέθρου τοῦτο μὲν τὰ χείλεα τοῦ 
+ποταμοῦ κατὰ τὴν πόλιν καὶ τὰς καταβάσιας τὰς 
+ἐκ τῶν πυλίδων ἐς τὸν ποταμὸν φερούσας voiko- 
+δόμησε πλίνθοισι ὀπτῆσι κατὰ τὸν αὐτὸν λόγον 
+τῷ τείχεϊ, τοῦτο δὲ κατὰ μέσην κου μάλιστα τὴν 
+πόλιν τοῖσι λίθοισι τοὺς ὠρύξατο οἰκοδόμεε 
+γέφυραν, δέονσα τοὺς λίθους σιδήρῳ τε καὶ 
+μολύβδῳ. ἐπιτείνεσκε δὲ ἐπ᾽ αὐτήν, ὅκως μὲν 
+ἡμέρη γίνοιτο, ξύλα τετράγωνα, ἐπ᾽ ὧν τὴν διά- 
+
+ασιν ἐποιεῦντο οἱ Βαβυλώνιοι: τὰς δὲ νύκτας 
+τὰ ξύλα ταῦτα ἀπαιρέεσκον τοῦδε εἵνεκα, ἵνα μὴ 
+διαφοιτέοντες τὰς νύκτας κλέπτοιεν παρ᾽ ἀλλή- 
+λων. ὡς δὲ τό τε ὀρυχθὲν λίμνη πλήρης ἐγεγόνεε 
+ὑπὸ τοῦ ποταμοῦ καὶ τὰ περὶ τὴν γέφυραν 
+ἐκεκόσμητο, τὸν Εὐφρήτην ποταμὸν ἐς τὰ ἀρχαῖα 
+ῥέεθρα ἐκ τῆς λίμνης ἐξήγαγε, καὶ οὕτω τὸ 
+ὀρυχθὲν ἕλος γενόμενον ἐς δέον ἐδόκεε γεγονέναι 
+καὶ τοῖσι πολιήτῃσι γέφυρα ἦν κατεσκευασμένη. 
+
+187. Ἢ ὃ᾽ αὐτὴ αὕτη βασίλεια καὶ ἀπάτην 
+τοιήνδε τινὰ ἐμηχανήσατο' ὑπὲρ τῶν μάλιστα 
+λεωφόρων πυλέων τοῦ ἄστεος τάφον ἑωυτῇ κατε- 
+232 
+
+
+BOOK I. 186-187 
+
+
+it. Hercity was divided into two portions by the river 
+which flowed through the centre. Whenever in the 
+days of the former rulers one would pass over from 
+one part to the other, he must cross in a boat ; and 
+this, as I suppose, was troublesome. But the queen 
+provided also for this ; when the digging of the basin 
+of the lake was done, she made another monument of 
+her reign out of this same work, She had very long 
+blocks of stone hewn ; and when these were ready 
+and thé place was dug, she turned the course of the 
+river wholly into it, and while it was filling, the 
+former channel being now dry, she bricked with 
+baked bricks, like those of the wall, the borders of 
+the river in the city and the descents from the gates 
+leading down to the river; also about the middle of 
+the city she built a bridge with the stones which 
+had been dug up, binding them together with iron 
+and lead. She laid across it square-hewn logs each 
+morning, whereon the Babylonians crossed; but these 
+logs were taken away for the night, lest folk shouid 
+be ever crossing over and stealing from each other. 
+Then, when the basin she had made for a lake was 
+filled by the river and the bridge was finished, 
+Nitocris brought the Euphrates back to its former 
+channel out of the lake; thus she had served her 
+purpose, as she thought, by making a swamp of the 
+basin, and her citizens had a bridge ready for them. 
+
+187. ‘There was a trick, moreover, which this same 
+queen contrived. She had a tomb made for herself 
+and set high over the very gate of that entrance or 
+
+
+233 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+σκευάσατο μετέωρον ἐπιπολῆς αὐτέων τῶν πυ- 
+λέων, ἐνεκόλαψε δὲ ἐς τὸν τάφον γράμματα λέ- 
+γοντα τάδε. “Τῶν τις ἐμεῦ ὕστερον γινομένων 
+Βαβυλῶνος βασιλέων ἣν σπανίσῃ χρημάτων, avot- 
+Eas τὸν τάφον λαβέτω ὁκόσα Βούλεται χρήματα: 
+μὴ μέντοι γε μὴ σπανίσας γε ἄλλως ἀνοίξῃ' οὐ 
+γὰρ ἄμεινον" οὗτος ὁ τάφος ἣν ἀκίνητος μέχρι 
+οὗ ἐς Δαρεῖον περιῆλθε ἡ βασιληίη: Δαρείῳ δὲ 
+καὶ δεινὸν ἐδόκεε εἶναι τῇσι πύλῃσι ταύτῃσι 
+μηδὲν χρᾶσθαι, καὶ χρημάτων κειμένων καὶ αὐτῶν 
+τῶν γραμμάτων ἐπικαλεομένων, μὴ οὐ λαβεῖν 
+αὐτά: thot δὲ πύλησι ταύτῃσι οὐδὲν ἐχρᾶτο 
+τοῦδε εἵνεκα, ὅτι ὑπὲρ κεφαλῆς οἱ ἐγίνετο ὁ 
+νεκρὸς διεξελαύνοντι. ἀνοίξας δὲ τὸν τάφον εὗρε 
+χρήματα μὲν οὔ, τὸν δὲ νεκρὸν καὶ γράμματα 
+λέγοντα Tube “El μὴ ἄπληστός τε ἔας χρημάτων 
+καὶ αἰσχροκερδής, οὐκ ἂν νεκρῶν θήκας ἀνέῳγες." 
+αὕτη μέν νυν ἡ βασίλεια τοιαύτη τις λέγεται 
+γενέσθαι. 
+
+188. Ὁ δὲ δὴ Κῦρος ἐπὶ ταύτης τῆς γυναικὸς 
+τὸν παῖδα ἐστρατεύετο, ἔχοντά τε τοῦ πατρὸς τοῦ 
+ἑωυτοῦ τοὔνομα Λαβυνήτου καὶ τὴν ᾿Ασσυρίων 
+ἀρχήν. στρατεύεται δὲ δὴ βασιλεὺς ὁ μέγας καὶ 
+σιτίοισι εὖ ἐσκευασμένος ἐξ οἴκου καὶ προβά- 
+τοισι, καὶ δὴ καὶ ὕδωρ ἀπὸ τοῦ Χοάσπεω ποτα- 
+μοῦ ἅμα ἄγεται τοῦ παρὰ Σοῦσα ῥέοντος, τοῦ 
+μούνου πίνει βασιλεὺς καὶ ἄλλου οὐδενὸς ποτα- 
+μοῦ. τούτου δὲ τοῦ Χοάσπεω τοῦ ὕδατος ἀπεψη- 
+μένου πολλαὶ κάρτα ἅμαξαι τετράκυκλοι ἡμιό- 
+reat κοµιξουσαι ἐν ἀγγηίοισι ἀργυρέοισι ἕπονται, 
+ὅκῃ ἂν ἐλαύνῃ ἑκάστοτε. 
+
+189. πείτε δὲ ὁ Κῦρος πορευόμενος ἐπὶ τὴν 
+
+
+234 
+
+
+BOOK I. 187-189 
+
+
+the city which was most used, with a writing graven 
+on the tomb, which was this : “ If any king of Babylon 
+in future time lack money, let him open this tomb 
+and take whatso money he desires: but let him not 
+open it except he lack; for it will be the worse for 
+him." This tomb remained untouched till the king- 
+ship fell to Darius. He thought it a very strange 
+thing that he should never use this gate, nor take 
+the money when it lay there and the writing itself 
+invited him to the deed. The cause of his not 
+using the gate was that the dead body must be ovér 
+his head as he passed through. Having opened the 
+tomb, he found there no money, but only the dead 
+body, with this writing: * Wert thou not insatiate 
+of wealth and basely desirous of gain, thou hadst 
+not opened the coffins of the dead." Such a woman, 
+it is‘recorded, was this queen. | 
+
+188. Cyrus, then, marched against Nitocris’ son, 
+who inherited the name of his father Labynetus and 
+the sovereignty of Assyria. Now when the Great 
+King marches he goes well provided with food and 
+flocks from home; and water from the Choaspes 
+which flows past Susa is carried with him, whereof 
+alone, and of none other, the king drinks. This 
+water of the Choaspes! is boiled, and very many four 
+wheeled waggons drawn by mules carry it in silver 
+vessels, following the king whithersoever he goes at 
+any time. 
+
+189. When Cyrus on his way to Babylon came 
+
+! Modern Kerkha. 
+
+
+2 
+VOL. I. K 35 
+
+
+Al a 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Βαβυλῶνα ἐγίνετο ἐπὶ Γύνδῃ ποταμῶ, τοῦ αἱ μὲν 
+πηγαὶ ἐν Ματιηνοῖσι ὅ ὄρεσι, ῥέει δὲ διὰ Δαρδανέων, 
+ἐκδιδοῖ δὲ ἐς ἕτερον ποταμὸν Τίγρην, ὃ ὃ δὲ παρὰ 
+Ὦπιν πόλιν ῥέων ἐς τὴν ᾿Ερυθρὴν θάλασσαν 
+ἐκδιδοῖ, τοῦτον δὴ τὸν Γύνδην ποταμὸν ὡς dta- 
+βαίνειν ἐπειρᾶτο ὁ Κῦρος ἐόντα -νηυσιπέρητον, 
+ἐνθαῦτά οἱ τῶν τις ἱρῶν ἵππων τῶν λευκῶν ὑπὸ 
+vp tos ἐσβὰς ἐς τὸν ποταμὸν διαβαίνειν ἐ ἐπειρᾶτο, 
+
+ὃ δέ μιν συμψήσας ὑποβρύχιον οἰχώκεε φέρων. 
+κάρτα τε δὴ ἐχαλέπαινε τῷ ποταμῷ o Κῦρος 
+τοῦτο ὑβρίσαντι, καί οἱ ἐπηπείλησε οὕτω δή. μιν 
+ἀσθενέα ποιήσειν ὥστε τοῦ λοιποῦ καὶ γυναῖκάς 
+μιν εὐπετέως τὸ γόνυ οὐ βρεχούσας διαβήσεσθαι. 
+μετὰ δὲ τὴν ἀπειλὴν μετεὶς τὴν ἐπὶ Βαβυλῶνα 
+στράτευσιν διαίρεε τὴν στρατιὴν δίχα, διελὼν 
+δὲ κατέτεινε .σχοινοτενέας. ὑποδέξας διώρυχας 
+ὀγδώκοντα καὶ ἑκατὸν Tap ἑκάτερον τὸ χεῖλος 
+τοῦ r ύνδεω τετραμμένας πάντα τρόπον, διατάξας 
+δὲ τὸν στρατὸν ὀρύσσειν ἐκέλευε. οἷα δὲ ὁμίλου 
+πολλοῦ ἐργαξομένου ἤνετο μὲν τὸ ἔργον, ὅμως 
+μέντοι τὴν θερείην πᾶσαν αὐτοῦ ταύτῃ διέ- 
+τριψαν ἐργαζύμενοι. 
+
+190. Ὡς, δὲ τὸν Γύνδην ποταμὸν ἐτίσατο Κῦρος 
+ἐς τριηκοσίας καὶ ἑξήκοντα διώρυχάς μιν δια- 
+λαβών, καὶ τὸ δεύτερον ἔαρ mun οὕτω δὴ 
+ἤλαυνε ἐπὶ τὴν Βαβυλῶνα. οἱ δὲ Βαβυλώνιοι 
+ἐκστρατευσάμενοι ἔμενον ο... emel δὲ ἐγένετο 
+ἐλαύνων ἀγχοῦ τῆς πόλιος, συνέθαλὀν τε οἱ 
+Βαβυλώνιοι καὶ ἑσσωθέντες τῇ μάχῃ, κατειλή- 
+θησαν ἐς τὸ ἄστυ. οἷα δὲ ἐξεπιστάμενοι ἔτι 
+πρότερον τὸν Κῦρον οὐκ ἀτρεμίζοντα, ἀλλ᾽ ὁρέ- 
+οντες αὐτὸν παντὶ ἔθιεῖ ὁμοίως ἐπιχειρέοντα, 
+
+
+236 
+
+
+BOOK I. 189-190 
+
+
+to the river Gyndes,! which rises in the mountains 
+of the Matieni and flows through the Dardanean 
+country into another river, the Tigris, which again 
+passes the city of Opis and issues into the Red Sea 
+—when Cyrus, I say, essayed to cross the Gyndes, 
+it being there navigable, one of his sacred white 
+horses dashed recklessly into the river that he 
+might win through it, but the stream whelmed him 
+and swept him under and away. At this violent 
+deed of the river Cyrus was very wroth, and he 
+threatened it that he would make it so weak that 
+women should ever after cross it easily without wet. 
+ting their knees. Having so threatened he ceased 
+from his march against Babylon, and dividing his 
+army into two parts he drew lines planning out a 
+hundred and eighty canals running every way from 
+either bank of the Gyndes; then he arrayed his 
+army along the lines and bade them dig. Since a 
+great multitude was at the work it went with all 
+speed; yet they spent the whole summer there 
+before it was finished. 
+
+190. Then at the opening of the second spring, 
+when Cyrus had punished the Gyndes by parting it 
+among the three hundred and sixty canals, he marched 
+at last against Babylon. The Babylonians sallied out 
+and awaited him ; and when in his march he came 
+near to thcir city, they joined battle, but they were 
+worsted and driven within the city. There, because 
+they knew already that Cyrus was no man of peace, 
+and saw that he attacked all nations alike, they had 
+
+
+4 Modern Diala. 
+
+
+237 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+προεσάξαντο σιτία ἐτέων κάρτα πολλῶν. ἐν- 
+θαῦτα οὗτοι μὲν λόγον εἶχον τῆς πολιορκίης 
+οὐδένα, Κῦρος δὲ ἆ ἀπορίῃσι ἐνείχετο, ἅτε χρόνου 
+τε ἐγγινομένου συχνοῦ ἀνωτέρω τε οὐδὲν τῶν 
+πρηγμάτων προκοπτοµένων. 
+
+191. Eire δὲ ὦ ὧν ἄλλος οἱ ἀπορέοντι ὑπεθήκατο, 
+εἴτε καὶ αὐτὸς ἔμαθε τὸ ποιητέον οἱ ἦν, ἐποίεε δὴ 
+τοιόνδε. τάξας τὴν στρατιὴν ἅπασαν ἐξ ἐμβολῆς 
+τοῦ ποταμοῦ, τῇ ἐς τὴν πόλιν ἐσβάλλει, καὶ 
+ὄπισθε αὖτις τῆς πόλιος τάξας ἑτέρους, τῇ ἐξιεῖ 
+ἐκ τῆς πόλιος ὁ ποταμός, προεῖπε τῷ στρατῷ, 
+ὅταν διαβατὸν τὸ ῥέεθρον ἴδωνται γενόμενον, 
+ἐσιέναι ταύτῃ ἐς τὴν πόλιν. οὕτω τε δὴ τάξας 
+καὶ κατὰ ταῦτα παραινέσας ἀπήλαυνε αὐτὸς σὺν 
+τῷ ἀχρηίῳ τοῦ στρατοῦ. ἀπικόμενος δὲ ἐπὶ τὴν 
+λίμνην, τά περ ἡ τῶν Βαβυλωνίων βασίλεια 
+ἐποίησε κατά τε τὸν ποταμὸν καὶ κατὰ τὴν 
+λίμνην, ἐποίεε καὶ ὁ Κῦρος ἕτερα. τοιαῦτα: τὸν 
+γὰρ ποταμὸν διώρυχι. ἐσαγαγὼν ἐς τὴν λίμνην 
+ἐοῦσαν ἕλος, τὸ ἀρχαῖον ῥέεθρον διαβατὸν εἶναι 
+ἐποίησε, ὑπονοστήσαντος τοῦ ποταμοῦ. .Ύενο- 
+μένου δὲ τούτου τοιούτου, οἱ Πέρσαι οὗ περ 
+ἐτετάχατο ἐπ᾽ αὐτῷ τούτῳ κατὰ τὸ ῥέεθρον τοῦ 
+Εὐφρήτεω ποταμοῦ ὑπονενοστηκότος ἀνδρὶ ὡς ἐς 
+μέσον μηρὸν μάλιστά κῃ, κατὰ τοῦτο ἐσήισαν ἐς 
+τὴν Βαβυλῶνα. εἰ μέν νυν προεπύθοντο 7 
+ἔμαθον οἱ Βαβυλώνιοι τὸ ἐς τοῦ Κύρου ποιεύ- 
+μενον, of Ò ἂν περιιδόντες τοὺς Πέρσας ἐσελθεῖν 
+ἐς τὴν πόλιν διέφθειραν ἃ ἂν κάκιστα: Katarini- 
+σαντες γὰρ ἂν πάσας τὰς ἐς τὸν ποταμὸν πυλίδας 
+ἐχούσας καὶ αὐτοὶ ἐπὶ τὰς αἱμασιὰς ἀναβάντες 
+τὰς παρὰ τὰ χείλεα τοῦ ποταμοῦ ἐληλαμένας, ἔλα- 
+
+
+238 
+
+
+BOOK Ι. 190-191 
+
+
+stored provision enough for very many years; so 
+now they cared nothing for the siege; and Cyrus 
+knew not what to do, being so long delayed and 
+gaining no advantage. 
+
+191. Whether, then, someone advised him in his 
+difficulty, or he perceived for himself what to do, I 
+know not, but this he did: he posted his army at 
+the place where the river enters the city, and another 
+part of it where the stream issues from the city, and 
+bade his men enter the city by the channel of the 
+Euphrates when they should see it to be fordable. 
+Having so arrayed them and given this command, he 
+himself marched away with those of his army who 
+could not fight ; and when he came to the lake, Cyrus 
+dealt with it and with the river just as had the Baby- 
+lonian queen: drawing off the river by a canal into 
+the lake, which was till now a marsh, he made the 
+stream to sink till its former channel could be forded. 
+When this happened, the Persians who were posted 
+with this intent made their way into Babylon by the 
+channel of the Euphrates, which had now sunk about 
+to the height of the middle of a man’s thigh. Now 
+if the Babylonians had known beforehand or learnt 
+what Cyrus was planning, they would have suffered 
+the Persians to enter the city and brought them to 
+a miserable end; for then they would have shut all 
+the gates that opened on the river and themselves 
+mounted up on to the walls that ran along the river 
+
+
+239 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Bov ἂν σφέας ὡς ἐν κύρτη. νῦν δὲ ἐξ ἀπροσ- 
+δοκήτου σφι παρέστησαν οἱ Πέρσαι. ὑπὸ δὲ 
+μεγάθεος τῆς πόλιος, ὡς λέγεται ὑπὸ τῶν ταύτῃ 
+οἰκημένων, τῶν περὶ τὰ ἔσχατα τῆς πόλιος 
+ἑαλωκότων τοὺς τὸ μέσον οἰκέοντας τῶν Ba- 
+βυλωνίων ov μανθάνειν ἑαλωκότας, ἀλλὰ τυχεῖν 
+γάρ σφι ἐοῦσαν ὀρτήν, χορεύειν τε τοῦτον τὸν 
+χρόνον καὶ ἐν εὐπαθείῃσι εἶναι, ἐς ὃ δὴ καὶ τὸ 
+κάρτα ἐπύθοντο. 
+
+193. Καὶ Βαβυλὼν μὲν οὕτω τότε πρῶτον 
+ἀραίρητο. τὴν δὲ δύναμιν τῶν Βαβυλωνίων TON- 
+λοῖσι μὲν καὶ ἄλλοισι δηλώσω ὅση τις ἐστί, ἐν 
+δὲ δὴ καὶ τῷδε. βασιλέι τῷ μεγάλῳ ἐς τροφὴν 
+αὐτοῦ τε καὶ τῆς στρατιῆς διαραίρηται, πάρεξ τοῦ 
+φόρου, γῆ πᾶσα ὅσης ἄρχει". δυώδεκα ὧν μηνῶν 
+ἐόντων ἐς τὸν ἐνιαυτὸν τοὺς τέσσερας μῆνας 
+τρέφει μιν 7) Βαβυλωνίη χώρη, τοὺς δὲ ὀκτὼ τῶν 
+μηνῶν ἡ λοιπή πᾶσα ` Acin. οὕτω τριτηµορίη 
+7 ᾿Ασσυρίη χώρη τῇ δυνάμι τῆς ἄλλης ᾿Ασίης. 
+καὶ ἡ ἀρχὴ τῆς χώρης ταύτης, τὴν οἱ Πέρσαι 
+σατραπηΐην καλέουσι, ἐστὶ ἁπασέων τῶν. ἀρχέων 
+πολλὸν τι κρατίστη, δκοὺ T ριτανταίχμῃ τῷ 
+᾿Αρταβάξου ἐ ἐκ βασιλέος ἐ ἔχοντι τὸν νομὸν τοῦτον 
+ἀργυρίου μὲν προσήιε ἑκάστης ἡμέρης ἀρτάβη 
+μεστή. ἡ δὲ ἀρτάβη, μέτρον ἐὸν Π]ερσικόν, 
+χωρέει - μεδίμνου ᾿Αττικοῦ πλέον χοίνιξι τρισὶ 
+᾿Αττικῇσι. ἵπποι δέ οἱ αὐτοῦ ἦσαν ἰδίῃ, πάρεξ 
+τῶν πολεμιστηρίων, | οἱ μὲν ἀναβαίνοντες τὰς 
+θηλέας ὀκτακόσιοι, αἱ δὲ .Βαινόμεναι ἐξακισχίλιαι 
+καὶ μύριαι ἀνέβαινε γὰρ ἕκαστος τῶν ἐρσένων 
+τούτων εἴκοσι ἵππους. κυνῶν δὲ ᾿Ινδικῶν τοσοῦτο 
+
+
+240 
+
+
+BOOK I. 191-192 
+
+
+banks, and so caught their enemies as in a trap. But 
+as it was, the Persians were upon them unawares, 
+and by reason of the great size of the city—so say 
+those who dwell there—those in the outer parts of 
+it were overcome, yet the dwellers in the middle 
+part knew nothing of it; all this time they were 
+dancing and making merry at a festival which 
+chanced to be toward, till they learnt the truth but 
+too well. 
+
+192. Thus was Babylon then for the first time 
+taken. There are many proofs of the wealth of 
+Babylon, but this in especial. All the land ruled by 
+the great King is parcelled out for the provisioning of 
+himself and his army, besides that it pays tribute: 
+now the territory of Babylon feeds him for four 
+out of the twelve months in the year, the whole of 
+the rest of Asia providing for the other eight. 
+Thus the wealth of Assyria is one third of the whole : 
+wealth of Asia. The governorship, which the Persians 
+call “satrapy,” of this land is by far the greatest of 
+all the governorships; seeing that the daily revenue 
+of Tritantaechmes son of Artabazus, governing this . 
+province by the king's will, was an artaba full of 
+silver (the artaba isa Persian measure, containing 
+more by three Attic choenixes than an Attic 
+medimnus),! and besides war chargers he had in 
+his stables eight hundred stallions, and sixteen thou- 
+sand brood mares, each stallion serving twenty mares. 
+Moreover he kept so great a number of Indian dogs 
+
+
+1 The Attic medimnus = about 12 gallons; it contained 
+48 χοίνικες. P 
+
+
+241 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δή τι πλῆθος ἐτρέφετο ὥστε τέσσερες τῶν ἐν τῷ 
+πεδίῳ κῶμαι μεγάλαι, τῶν ἄλλων ἐοῦσαι ἀτελέες, 
+τοῖσι κυσὶ προσετετάχατο σιτία παρέχειν. TOi- 
+abra μὲν TQ ἄρχοντι τῆς Βαβυλῶνος ὑπῆρχε 
+ἐόντα. 
+
+193. H δὲ γῆ τῶν ᾿Ασσυρίων ὕεται μὲν. ὀλίγῳ, 
+καὶ τὸ ἐκτρέφον τὴν ῥίζαν τοῦ σίτου ἐστὶ τοῦτο" 
+ἀρδόμενον μέντοι ἐκ τοῦ ποταμοῦ ἀδρύνεταί τε τὸ 
+λήιον καὶ παραγίνεται ὁ σῖτος, οὐ κατά περ ἐν 
+Αἰγύπτῳ, αὐτοῦ τοῦ ποταμοῦ ἀναβαίνοντος ἐς 
+τὰς ἀρούρας, ἀλλὰ χερσί τε καὶ κηλωνηίοισι 
+ἀρδόμενος. ἡ γὰρ Ῥαβυλωνίη χώρη πᾶσα, κατά 
+περ η Αὐγυπτίη, κατατέτµηται ἐς διώρυχας" καὶ 
+ἡ μεγίστη τῶν διωρύχων ἐστὶ νηυσιπέρητος, πρὸς 
+ἥλιον τετραμμένη τὸν χειμερινόν, ἐσέχει δὲ ἐς 
+ἄλλον ποταμὸν ἐκ τοῦ Ἐὐφρήτεω, ἐς τὸν Τίγρην, 
+παρ᾽ ὃν Νίνος πόλις οἴκητο. ἔστι δὲ χωρέων 
+αὕτη πασέων μακρῷ ἀρίστη το ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν 
+Δήμητρος καρπὸν ἐκφέρειν ον DT γὰρ δὴ ἄλλα 
+δένδρεα οὐδὲ πειρᾶται ἀρχὴν φέρει», οὔτε συκέην 
+οὔτε ἄμπελον οὔτε ἐλαίην. τὸν δὲ τῆς Δήμητρος 
+καρπὸν ὧδε ἀγαθὴ ἐκφέρειν ἐστὶ ὥστε ἐπὶ διη- 
+κόσια μὲν τὸ παράπαν ἀποδιδοῖ, ἐπειδὰν δὲ ἄ ἄριστα 
+αὐτὴ ἑωυτῆς ἐνείκῃ, ἐπὶ τριηκόσια ἐκφέρει. τὰ 
+δὲ φύλλα αὐτόθι τῶν τε πυρῶν καὶ τῶν κριθέων 
+τὸ πλάτος γίνεται τεσσέρων εὐπετέως δακτύλων. 
+ἐκ δὲ κέγχρου καὶ σησάμου ὅσον τι δένδρον μέγα- 
+θος γίνεται, ἐξεπιστάμενος μνήμην o) ποιήσομαι, 
+εὖ εἰδὼς ὅ ὅτι τοῖσι μὴ, ἀπιγμένοισι ἐς τὴν Βαβυ- 
+λωνίην χώρην καὶ τὰ εἰρημένα καρπῶν ἐχόμενα 
+
+
+2 Stein marks a lacuna after this word, the meaning of 
+τὰ ἄλλα δένδρεα not being quite clear. 
+
+
+242 
+
+
+BOOK I. 192-193 
+
+
+that four great villages of the plain were appointed 
+to provide food for the dogs and eased from all 
+other burdens. Such were the riches of the gover- 
+nor of Babylon. 
+
+193. There is but little rain in Assyria. It is 
+this which nourishes the roots of the corn ; but it is 
+irrigation from the river that ripens the crop and 
+brings the grain to fulness : itis not as in Egypt, where 
+the river itself rises and floods the fields: in Assyria 
+they are watered by hand and by swinging beams.! 
+For the whole land of Babylon, like Egypt, is cut 
+across by canals. The greatest of these is navigable: 
+it runs towards where the sun rises in winter, from 
+the Euphrates to another river, the Tigris, by which 
+stood the city of Ninus. This land is of all known 
+to us by far the most fertile in corn. Trees it does 
+not even essay to grow, fig, vine, or olive, but its 
+corn is so abundant that it yields for the most part 
+two hundred fold, and even three hundred fold when 
+the harvest is best. The blades of the wheat and 
+barley there are easily four fingers broad ; and for 
+millet and sesame, I will not say, though it is known 
+to me, to what a height they grow; for I am well 
+aware that even what I have said respecting corn is 
+wholly disbelieved by those who have never visited 
+
+
+1 That is, by the '' shadoof,” a familiar object to travellers 
+on the Nile ; a lever with a bucket attached, revolving on a 
+
+
+post. 
+| 243 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐς ἀπιστίην πολλὴν. ἀπῖκται. χρέωνται δὲ οὐδὲν 
+ἐλαίῳ ἀλλ ἢ ἐκ τῶν σησάμων ποιεῦντες. εἰσὶ 
+δέ σφι φοίνικες πεφυκότες ἀνὰ πᾶν τὸ πεδίο», 
+οἱ πλεῦνες αὐτῶν καρποφόροι, ἐκ τῶν καὶ σιτία 
+καὶ οἶνον καὶ μέλι ποιεῦνται" τοὺς συκέων τρόπον 
+θεραπεύουσι τά τε ἄλλα καὶ φοινίκων τοὺς 
+ἔρσενας Ἕλληνες καλέουσι, τούτων τὸν καρπὸν 
+περιδέουσι τῇσι βαλανηφόροισι τῶν φοινίκων, 
+ἵνα πεπαίνῃ τέ σφι ὁ γὴν τὴν βάλανον ἐσδύνων 
+καὶ μὴ ἀπορρέῃ 0 καρπὸς τοῦ φοίνικος" ψῆνας γὰρ 
+δὴ φέρουσι ἐν τῷ καρπῷ οἱ ἔρσενες κατά περ δὴ 
+οἱ ὄλυνθοι. 
+
+194, Τὸ δὲ ἁπάντων θῶμα μέγιστόν μοι ἐστὶ 
+τῶν ταύτῃ μετά γε αὐτὴν τὴν πόλιν, ἔρχομαι 
+φράσων" τὰ πλοῖα αὐτοῖσι ἐστὶ τὰ κατὰ τὸν 
+ποταμὸν πορευόμενα ἐς τὴν DaBvXàva, ἐόντα 
+κυκλοτερέα, πάντα σκύτινα. ἐπεὰν γὰρ ἐν τοῖσι 
+᾿Αρμενίοισι τοῖσι κατύπερθε ᾿Ασσυρίων οἰκημέ- 
+νοισι νοµέᾳς ἱτέης ταμόμενοι ποιήσωνται, περι- 
+τείνουσι τούτοισι διφθέρας στεγαστρίδας ἔξωθεν 
+ἐδάφεος τρόπον, οὔτε πρύμνην ἀποκρίνοντες οὔτε 
+πρώρην συνάγοντες, ἀλλ᾽ ἀσπίδος τρόπον κυκλο- 
+τερέα ποιήσαντες καὶ καλάμης πλήσαντες πᾶν τὸ 
+πλοῖον τοῦτο ἀπιεῖσι κατὰ τὸν ποταμὸν φέρεσθαι, 
+φορτίων πλήσαντες" μάλιστα. δὲ Bixous φοι- 
+νικηίους κατάγουσι οἴνου πλέους. ἰθύνεται δὲ 
+ὑπό τε δύο πλήκτρων καὶ δύο ἀνδρῶν ὀρθῶν 
+ἑστεώτων, καὶ ὃ μὲν ἔσω ἕλκει τὸ πλῆκτρον ὃ δὲ 
+ἔξω ὠθέει. ποιέεται δὲ καὶ κάρτα μεγάλα ταῦτα 
+τὰ πλοῖα καὶ ἐλάσσω’ τὰ δὲ μέγιστα αὐτῶν καὶ 
+πεντακισχιλίων ταλάντων γόμον ἔχει. ἐν ἑκάστῳ 
+δὲ πλοίῳ ὄνος ζωὸς ἔνεστι, ἐν δὲ τοῖσι μέξοσι 
+
+
+244 
+
+
+BOOK I. 193-194 
+
+
+Babylonia. ‘They use no οἱ] save what they make 
+from sesame.! There are palm trees there growing 
+all over the plain, most of them yielding fruit, from 
+which food is made and wine and honey. The Assyrians 
+tend these like figs, and chiefly in this respect, that 
+they tie the fruit of the palm called male by the Greeks 
+to the date-bearing palm, that so the gall-fly may enter 
+the dates and cause them to ripen, and that the fruit 
+of the palm may not fall; for the male palms, like 
+unripened figs, have gall-flies in their fruit. 
+
+194. I will now show what seems to me to be the 
+most marvellous thing in the country, next to the 
+city itself. Their boats which ply on the riverand go 
+to Babylon are all of skins, andround. They make 
+these in Armenia, higher up the stream than Assyria. 
+First they cut frames of willow, then they stretch 
+hides over these for a covering, making as it were a 
+hold ; they neither broaden the stern nor narrow the 
+prow, but the boat is round, like a shield. They 
+then fill it with reeds and send it floating down the 
+river with a cargo; and it is for the most part palm 
+wood casks of wine that they carry down. Two men 
+standing upright steer the boat, each with a paddle, 
+one drawing it to him, the other thrusting it from 
+him. These boats are of all sizes, some small, some very 
+great ; the greatest of them are even of five thousand 
+talents? burden. There is a live ass in each boat, or 
+
+
+1 Sesame-oil or ** Benre-oil" is still in common use in the 
+East. 
+
+2 The Attic talent = about 68 lbs. avoirdupois; the 
+Aeginetan = about 82. 
+
+
+245 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+πλεῦνες. ἐπεὰν ὧν ἀπίκωνται πλέοντες ἐς τὴν 
+Βαβυλῶνα καὶ διαθέωνται τὸν φόρτον, νομέας 
+μὲν τοῦ πλοίου καὶ τὴν καλάμην πᾶσαν ἀπ᾽ ὧν 
+ἐκήρυξαν, τὰς δὲ διφθέρας ἐπισάξαντες ἐπὶ τοὺς 
+ὄνους ἀπελαύνουσι ἐς τοὺς ᾿Αρμενίους. ἀνὰ τὸν 
+ποταμὸν γὰρ δὴ οὐκ οἷά τε ἐστὶ πλέειν οὐδενὶ 
+τρόπῳ ὑπὸ τάχεος τοῦ ποταμοῦ" διὰ γὰρ ταῦτα 
+καὶ οὐκ ἐκ ξύλων ποιεῦνται τὰ πλοῖα ἀλλ, ἐκ 
+διφθερέων. ἐπεὰν δὲ τοὺς ὄνους ἐλαύνοντες ἀπί- 
+Κωνται ὀπίσω ἐς τοὺς ᾿Αρμενίους, ἄλλα τρόπῳ τῷ 
+αὐτῷ ποιεῦνται πλοῖα. — 
+
+195. Τὰ μὲν δὴ πλοῖα αὐτοῖσι ἐστὶ τοιαῦτα" 
+ἐσθῆτι δὲ τοιῇδε χρέωνται, κιθῶνι ποδηνεκέι 
+λινέῳ, καὶ ἐπὶ τοῦτον ἄλλον εἰρίνεον κιθῶνα 
+3 / ld M , 
+ἐπενδύνει καὶ χλανίδιον λευκὸν περιβαλλόμενος, 
+ὑποδήματα ἔχων ἐπιχώρια, παραπλήσια τῆσι 
+Βοιωτίῃησι ἐμβάσι. κομῶντες δὲ τὰς κεφαλὰς 
+μίτρῃσι ἀναδέονται, μεμυρισμένοι πᾶν τὸ σῶμα. 
+σφρηγῖδα δὲ ἕκαστος ἔχει καὶ σκῆπτρον χειρο- 
+ποίητον' ἐπ᾽ ἑκάστῳ δὲ σκήπτρῳ ἔπεστι TETON- 
+μένον ἢ μῆλον ἢ ῥόδον ἢ κρίνον ἢ αἰετὸς ἢ ἄλλο 
+Tu ἄνευ γὰρ ἐπισήμου οὔ σφι νόμος ἐστὶ ἔχειν 
+σκῆπτρον. 
+
+190, Αὕτη μὲν δή σφι ἄρτισις περὶ τὸ σῶμα 
+ἐστί" νόμοι δὲ αὐτοῖσι ὧδε κατεστᾶσι, Ò μὲν 
+σοφώτατος ὅδε κατὰ γνώμην τὴν ἡμετέρην, τῷ 
+καὶ Ἰλλυριῶν ᾿Ενετοὺς πυνθάνομαι χρᾶσθαι. 
+κατὰ κώμας ἑκάστας ἅπαξ τοῦ ἔτεος ἑκάστου 
+ἐποιέετο τάδε" ὡς ἂν αἱ παρθένοι γενοίατο γάμων 
+ὡραῖαι, ταύτας ὅκως συναγάγοιεν πάσας, ἐς ἓν 
+χωρίον ἐσάγεσκον ἁλέας, πέριξ δὲ αὐτὰς ἵστατο 
+ὅμιλος ἀνδρῶν, ἀνιστὰς δὲ κατὰ μίαν ἑκάστην 
+246 
+
+
+DOOR I. 194-196 
+
+
+more than one in the larger. So when they have 
+floated down to Babylon and disposed of thcir cargo, 
+they sell the framework of the boat and all the 
+reeds ; the hides are set on the backs of asses, which 
+are then driven back to Armenia, for it is not by 
+any means possible to go up stream by” water, by 
+reason of the swiftness of the current; it is for this 
+reason that they make their boats of hides and not 
+of wood. "When they have driven their asses back 
+into Armenia they make more boats in the same 
+way. 
+
+195. Such then are their boats. For clothing, they 
+wear a linen tunic, reaching to the feet; over this 
+the Babylonian puts on another tunic, of wool, and 
+wraps himself in a white mantle ; he wears the shoes 
+of his country, which are like Boeotian sandals. 
+Their hair is worn long, and covered by caps; the 
+whole body is perfumed. Every man has a seal and 
+à carven staff, and on every staff is some image, such 
+as that of an apple or a rose or a lily or an eagle: no 
+one carries a staff without a device. 
+
+196. Such is the equipment of their persons. I 
+wil now speak of their established customs. The 
+wisest of these, in my judgment, is one which 
+as I have heard is also a custom of the Eneti in 
+Illyria. It is this: once a year in every village all 
+the maidens as they came to marriageable age were 
+collected and brought together into one place, with 
+a crowd of men standing round. Then a crier would 
+display and offer them for sale one by one, first 
+
+
+247 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+κῆρυξ πωλέεσκε, πρῶτα μὲν τὴν εὐειδεστάτην ἐκ 
+πασέων: μετὰ δέ, ὅκως αὕτη εὑροῦσα πολλὸν 
+χρυσίον .πρηθείη, ἄλλην ἂν ἐκήρυσσε ἣ μετ' 
+ἐκείνην ἔσκε εὐειδεστάτη: ἐπωλέοντο δὲ ἐπὶ 
+συνοικήσι. ὅσοι μὲν δὴ ἔσκον εὐδαίμονες τῶν 
+Βαβυλωνίων ἐπίγαμοι, ὑπερβάλλοντες ἀλλήλους 
+ἐξωνέοντο τὰς καλλιστευούσας' ὅσοι δὲ τοῦ δήμου 
+ἔσκον ἐπίγαμοι, οὗτοι δὲ εἴδεος μὲν οὐδὲν ἐδέοντο 
+χρηστοῦ, ot Ò ἂν χρήματά τε καὶ αἰσχίονας 
+παρθένους ἐλάμβανον. ὡς γὰρ δὴ διεξέλθοι ὁ 
+κῆρυξ πωλέων τὰς εὐειδεστάτας. τῶν παρθένων, 
+ἀνίστη ἂν τὴν ἀμορφεστάτην, ἢ εἴ τις αὐτέων 
+ἔμπηρος εἴη, καὶ ταύτην ἂν ἐκήρυσσε, ὅ ὅστις. θέλοι 
+ἐλάχιστον χρυσίον λαβὼν συνοικέειν αὐτῇ, ἐς ὃ 
+τῷ τὸ ἐλάχιστον ὑπισταμένῳ προσέκειτο. τὸ δὲ 
+ἂν .Χρυσίον. ἐγίνετο ἀπὸ τῶν εὐειδέων παρθένων 
+καὶ οὕτω αἱ εὔμορφοι τὰς ἀμόρφους καὶ ἐμπήρους 
+ἐξεδίδοσαν. ἐκδοῦναι δὲ τὴν ἑωυτοῦ θυγατέρα 
+ὅτεῳ .Βούλοιτο ἕκαστος οὐκ ἐξῆν, οὐδὲ ἄνευ ἐγ- 
+γυητέω ἀπάγεσθαι τὴν παρθένον πριάμενον, ἀλλ᾽ 
+ἐγγυητὰς χρῆν καταστήσαντα 7 μὲν συνοικήσειν 
+αὐτῇ, οὕτω ἀπάγεσθαι. εἰ δὲ μὴ συμφεροίατο, 
+ἀποφέρειν τὸ χρυσίον ἔκειτο νόμος, ἐξῆν δὲ καὶ 
+ἐξ ἄλλης ἐλθόντα κώμης τὸν βουλόμενον ὠνέ- 
+εσθαι. ὁ μέν νυν κάλλιστος νόμος οὗτός σφι ἣν, 
+οὐ μέντοι νῦν γε διατελέει ἐών, ἄλλο δέ τι ἐξευρή- 
+κασι νεωστὶ γενέσθαι [ίνα μὴ ἀδικοῖεν αὐτὰς μηδ᾽ 
+εἰς ἑτέραν πόλιν ἄγωνται]-! ἐπείτε yàp ἁλόντες 
+ἐκακώθησαν καὶ οἰκοφθορήθησαν, πᾶς τις τοῦ δή- 
+µου βίου σπανίζων καταπορνεύει τὰ θήλεα τέκνα. 
+
+
+1 The words in brackets do not seem to be relevant here; 
+they might more naturally come after οὕτω ἀπάγεσθαι above, 
+
+
+248 
+
+
+BOOK I. 196 
+
+
+the fairest of all; and then when she had fetched 
+a great price he put up for sale the next comeliest, 
+selling all the maidens as lawful wives. Rich men 
+of Assyria who desired to marry would outbid each 
+other for the fairest; the commonalty, who desired 
+to marry and cared nothing for beauty, could take 
+the ill-favoured damsels and money therewith; for 
+when the crier had sold all the comeliest, he 
+would put up her that was least beautiful, or 
+crippled, and offer her to whosoever would take 
+her to wife for the least sum, till she fell to him 
+who promised to accept least; the money came 
+from the sale of the comely damsels, and so they 
+paid the dowry of the ill-favoured and the crip- 
+ples. But a man might not give his daughter in 
+marriage to whomsoever he would, nor might he 
+that bought the girl take her away without giving 
+security that he would indeed make her his wife. 
+And if the two could not agree, it was a law that 
+the money be returned. Men might also come from 
+other villages to buy if they so desired. This then 
+was their best custom ; but it does not continue at 
+this time; they have invented a new one lately 
+[that the woman might not be wronged or taken to 
+another city]; since the conquest of Babylon made 
+them afflicted and poor, everyone of the commonalty 
+that lacks a livelihood makes prostitutes of his 
+daughters. 
+
+
+249 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+197. Δεύτερος δὲ σοφίη ὅδε ἄλλος σφι pomos 
+κατέστηκε" τοὺς κάμνοντας ἐς τὴν ἀγορὴν ἐκφορέ- 
+ovet ov γὰρ δὴ χρέωνται ἰητροῖσι. προσιόντες 
+ὧν πρὸς τὸν κάμνοντα συμβουλεύουσι περὶ τῆς 
+νούσου, εἴ τις καὶ αὐτὸς τοιοῦτο ἔπαθε ὁκοῖον ἂν 
+ἔχῃ ὁ κάμνων ἢ ἄλλον εἶδε παθόντα, ταῦτα προσ- 
+ιόντες συμβουλεύονσι καὶ παραινέουσι ἅσσα 
+αὐτὸς ποιήσας ἐξέφυγε ὁμοίην νοῦσον ἡ ἆλλον 
+εἶδε ἐκφυγόντα. σιγὴ δὲ παρεξελθεῖν τὸν rd- 
+µνοντα ov σφι ἔξεστι, πρὶν ἂν ἐπείρηται ἥντινα 
+νοῦσον ο 
+
+198. Ταφαὶ δέ σφι ἐν μέλητι, θρῆνοι δὲ μα 
+πλήσιοι τοῖσι ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ, ὁσάκις δ᾽ ἂν μιχθὴ 
+γυναικὶ τῇ ἑωυτοῦ ἀνὴρ, Μαβυλώνιος, περὶ Üv pi- 
+npa καταγιζόμενον (tet, ἑτέρωθι δὲ ἡ γυνὴ τὠντὸ 
+τοῦτο ποιέει, ὄρθρου δὲ γενομένου λοῦνται καὶ 
+ἀμφότεροι: ἄγγεος γὰρ οὐδενὸς ἄγονται πρὶν 
+ἂν λούσωνται. ταὐτὰ δὲ ταῦτα καὶ ᾿Αράβιοι 
+ποιεῦσι. 
+
+199. 1 Ὁ δὲ δὴ αἴσχιστος τῶν νόμων ἐστὶ τοῖσι 
+Βαβυλωνίοισι. ὅδε' δεῖ πᾶσαν γυναῖκα ἐπιχωρίην 
+(ζομένην ἐς ἱρὸν ᾿Λϕροδίτης ἅπαξ ἐν τῇ fon 
+μιχθῆναι ἀνδρὶ ξείνῳ. πολλαὶ δὲ καὶ οὐκ ἀξιεύ- 
+μεναι ἀναμίσγεσθαι τῆσι ἄλλῃσι, οἷα πλούτῳ 
+ὑπερφρονέουσαι, ἐπὶ ξευγέων ἐν καμάρησι ἐλά- 
+σασαι πρὸς τὸ (pov ἑστᾶσι: θεραπηίη δέ σφι 
+ὄπισθε € emerat πολλή. αἱ δὲ πλεῦνες ποιεῦσι ὧδε- 
+ἐν τεμένεϊ ᾿Αϕροδίτης κατέαται στέφανον περὶ 
+τῇσι κεφαλῇσι ἔχουσαι θώμιγγος πολλαὶ γυναῖ- 
+κες' at μὲν γὰρ προσέρχονται, at δὲ ἀπέρχονται. 
+
+1 Three fifteenth century MSS. omit the whole of this 
+chapter. 
+
+250 
+
+
+BOOK I. 197—199 
+
+
+197. I come now to the next wisest of their cus- 
+toms: having no use for physicians, they carry the 
+sick into the market-place; then those who have been 
+afflicted themselves by the same ill as the sick man’s, 
+or seen others in like case, come near and advise him 
+about his disease and comfort him, telling him by 
+, What means they have themselves recovered of it or 
+seen others so recover. None may pass by the sick 
+man without speaking and asking what is his sickness. 
+
+198. The dead are embalmed in honey for burial, 
+and their dirges are like to the dirges of Egypt. 
+Whenever a Babylonian has had intercourse with his 
+wife, they both sit before a burnt offering of incense, 
+and at dawn they wash themselves; they will touch 
+no vessel before this is done. This is the custom 
+also in Arabia. 
+
+199. The foulest Babylonian custom is that which 
+compels every woman of the land once in her life to 
+sit in the temple of Aphrodite and have intercourse 
+with some stranger. Many women who are rich and 
+proud and disdain to consort with the rest, drive to 
+the temple in covered carriages drawn by teams, and 
+there stand with a great retinue of attendants. But 
+most sit down in the sacred plot of Aphrodite, with 
+crowns of cord on their heads; there is a great 
+multitude of women coming and going; passages 
+marked by line run every way through the crowd, by 
+which the stranger men pass and make their choice. 
+
+
+251 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+σχοινοτενέες δὲ διέξοδοι πάντα τρόπον ὁδῶν 
+ἔχουσι διὰ τῶν γυναικῶν, δι ὧν οἱ ξεῖνοι διεξι- 
+όντες ἐκλέγονται" ἔνθα ἐ ἐπεὰν ἴδηται γυνή, οὐ πρὀ- 
+τερον ἀπαλλάσσεται ἐς τὰ οἰκία ἢ τίς οἱ ξείνων 
+ἀργύριον ἐμβαλὼν ἐς τὰ γούνατα μιχθῇ ἔξω τοῦ 
+ἱροῦ" ἐμβαλόντα δὲ δεῖ εἰπεῖν τοσόνδε: “'᾿[ὑπι- 
+καλέω TOL τὴν θεὸν Μύλιττα., M ὕλιττα δὲ 
+καλέουσι τὴν ᾿Αφροδίτην ᾿Ασσύριοι. τὸ δὲ ἀργύ- 
+ρίον μέγαθος ἐ ἐστὶ ὅσον ὧν οὐ γὰρ μὴ ἀπώσηται: 
+οὐ γάρ οἱ θέμις ἐστί". γίνεται γὰρ ἱρὸν τοῦτο τὸ 
+ἀργύριον. τῷ δὲ πρώτῳ ἐμβαλόντι ἕπεται οὐδὲ 
+ἀποδοκιμᾷ οὐδένα. ἐπεὰν δὲ μιχθῇ, ἀποσιωσα- 
+μένη τῇ θεῷ ἀπαλλάσσεται ἐς τὰ οἰκία, καὶ τὠπὸ 
+τούτου οὐκ οὕτω μέγα τί οἱ δώσεις ὥς μιν λάμ- 
+pea. ὅσαι μέν νυν εἴδεός τε ἐπαμμέναι εἰσὶ 
+καὶ μεγάθεος, ταχὺ ἀπαλλάσσονται, ὅσαι δὲ 
+ἄμορφοι αὐτέων εἰσί, χρόνον πολλὸν προσμένουσι 
+οὗ δυνάμεναι τὸν νόμον ἐκπλῆσαι" καὶ γὰρ τριέ- 
+τεα καὶ τετραέτεα μετεξέτεραι χρόνον μένουσι. 
+ἐνιαχῇ δὲ καὶ τῆς Κύπρου ἐστὶ παραπλήσιος 
+τούτῳ νόμος. 
+
+900. Νόμοι μὲν δὴ τοῖσι Βαβυλωνίοισι οὗτοι 
+κατεστᾶσι: εἰσὶ δὲ αὐτῶν πατριαὶ τρεῖς αἳ οὐδὲν 
+ἄλλο σιτέονται εἰ μὴ ἰχθὺς μοῦνον, τοὺς ἐπείτε ἂν 
+θηρεύσαντες αὐήνωσι πρὸς ἥλιον, ποιεῦσι τάδε 
+ἐσβάλλουσι ἐς ὅλμον, καὶ λεήναντες ὑπέροισι 
+σῶσι διὰ σινδόνος, καὶ ὃς μὲν ἂν βούληται αὐτῶν 
+ἅτε μᾶζαν μαξάμενος ἔχει, 0 δὲ ἄρτου τρόπον 
+ὀπτήσας. 
+
+901, Ὡς δὲ τῷ Κύρῳ καὶ τοῦτο τὸ ἔθνος κατέρ- 
+γαστο, ἐπεθύμησε Μασσαγέτας ἱ UT ἑωυτῷ To- 
+σασθαι. τὸ δὲ ἔθνος τοῦτο καὶ µέγα λέγεται 
+
+
+252 
+
+
+BOOK I. 199-201 
+
+
+When a woman has once taken her place there she 
+goes not away to her home before some stranger 
+has cast money into her lap and had intercourse 
+with her outside the temple; but while he casts the 
+money, he must say, “I demand thee in the name 
+of Mylitta " (that is the Assyrian name for Aphrodite). 
+It matters not what be the sum of the money; the 
+woman will never refuse, for that were a sin, the 
+money being by this act made sacred. So she follows 
+the first man who casts it and rejects none. After 
+their intercourse she has made herself holy in the 
+goddess's sight and goes away to her home; and 
+thereafter there is no bribe however great that will 
+get her. So then the women that are fair and tall 
+are soon free to depart, but the uncomely have long 
+to wait because they cannot fulfil the law; for some 
+of them remain for three years, or four. There is 
+a custom like to this in some parts of Cyprus. 
+
+200. These are established customs among the 
+Babylonians. Moreover, there are in the country 
+three tribes that eat nothing but fish, which they 
+catch and dry in the sun ; then after casting them 
+into a mortar they bray them with pestles and strain 
+all through linen. Then whoever so desires kneads 
+as it were a cake of it and eats it; others bake it like 
+bread. 
+
+201. When Cyrus had conquered this nation also, 
+he desired to subdue the Massagetae. These are 
+
+
+253 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+εἶναι καὶ ἄλκιμον, οἰκημένον δὲ πρὸς ἠῶ τε καὶ 
+ἡλίου ἀνατολάς, πέρην τοῦ ᾿Αράξεω ποταμοῦ, 
+ἀντίον δὲ ᾿Ισσηδόνων ᾿ἀνδρῶν. εἰσὶ δὲ οἵτινες καὶ 
+Σκυθικὸν λέγουσι τοῦτο τὸ ἔθνος εἶναι. 
+
+902. Ὁ δὲ ᾿Αράξης λέγεται καὶ μέζων καὶ 
+ἑλάσσων εἶναι τοῦ Ἴστρου" νήσους δὲ ἐν αὐτῷ 
+Λέσβῳ μεγάθεα παραπλησίας συχνάς φασι εἶναι, 
+ἐν δὲ αὐτῇσι ἀνθρώπους οἳ σιτέονται μὲν ῥίζας τὸ 
+θέρος ὁ ὀρύσσοντες παντοίας' καρποὺς δὲ ἀπὸ δεν- 
+δρέων ἐξευρημένους σφι ἐς φορβὴν κατατίθεσθαι 
+ὡραίους, καὶ τούτους σιτέεσθαι τὴν χειμερινήν. 
+ἄλλα δέσφι ἐξευρῆσθαι ,δένδρεα καρποὺς τοιούσδε 
+τινὰς φέροντα, τοὺς ἐπείτε ἂν ἐς τὠυτὸ συνέλθωσι 
+κατὰ εἶλας καὶ πῦρ ἀνακαύσωνται κύκλῳ περι- 
+ιζοµένους ἐπιβάλλειν € ἐπὶ τὸ πῦρ, ὀσφραινομένους 
+δὲ καταγιξοµένου τοῦ καρποῦ τοῦ ἐπιβαλλομένου 
+μεθύσκεσθαι τῇ ὀδμῇ κατά περ “Ελληνας τῷ 
+οἴνῳ, πλεῦνος δὲ ἐπιβαλλομένου τοῦ καρποῦ μᾶλ- 
+λον µεθυσκεσθαι, € ἐς ὃ ἐς ὄρχησίν τε ἀνίστασθαι 
+καὶ ἐς ἀοιδὴν ἀπικνέεσθαι. τούτων μὲν αὕτη 
+λέγεται δίαιτα εἶναι. ὁ δὲ ᾿Αράξης ποταμὸς ῥέει 
+μὲν ἐκ Ματιηνῶν, ὅθεν περ 0 Ρύνδης τὸν ἐς τὰς 
+διώρυχας τὰς ἑξήκοντά τε καὶ τριηκοσίας διέλαβε 
+ὁ Κῦρος, στόμασι δὲ ἐξερεύγεται τεσσεράκοντα, 
+τῶν τὰ πάντα πλὴν ἑνὸς ἐς ἕλεά τε καὶ τενάγεα 
+ἐκδιδοῖ" ἐν τοῖσι ἀνθρώπους κατοικῆσθαι λέγουσι 
+ἐχθῦς ὠμοὺς σιτεοµένους, ἐσθῆτι δὲ νομίζοντας 
+χρᾶσθαι. φωκέων δέρμασι. τὸ δὲ ἓ ἓν τῶν στομά- 
+των τοῦ ᾿Αράξεω ῥέει διὰ καθαροῦ ἐς τὴν Κασπίην 
+θάλασσαν. 
+
+908. Ἡ δὲ Κασπίη θάλασσα ἐστὶ ἐπ᾽ ἑωυτῆς, 
+οὐ συμμίσγουσα τῇ ἑτέρῃ θαλάσσῃ. τὴν μὲν γὰρ 
+
+
+254 
+
+
+BOOK I. 201-203 
+
+
+said to be a great people and a mighty, dwelling 
+towards the east and the sunrise, beyond the Araxes 
+and over against the Issedones; and some say that 
+they are a Scythian people. 
+
+202. The Araxes is by some said to be greater and 
+by some less than the Ister. It is reported that there 
+are many islands in it as big as Lesbos, and men 
+thereon who in summer live on roots of all kinds that 
+they dig up, and in winter on fruit that they get from 
+trees and store when it is ripe for food; and they 
+know (it is said) of trees which have a fruit whereof 
+this is the effect : assembling in companies and 
+kindling a fire, the people sit round it and throw the 
+fruit into the flames, then the smell of it as it burns 
+makes them drunk as the Greeks are with wine, and 
+more and more drunk as more fruit is thrown on 
+the fire, till at last they rise up to dance and even 
+sing. Such is said to be their way of life. The 
+Araxes! flows from the country of the Matieni—as 
+does the Gyndes, which Cyrus divided into the three 
+hundred and sixty channels—and empties itself 
+through forty mouths, whereof all except one issue 
+into bogs and swamps, where men are said to live 
+whose food is raw fish, and their customary dress 
+sealskins. The one remaining stream of the Araxes 
+flows in a clear channel into the Caspian sea. 
+
+203. This is a sea by itself, not joined to the other 
+sea. For that whereon the Greeks sail, and the sea 
+
+
+1 The Araxes of this chapter appears to be, from the de- 
+scription of its course, the modern Aras. But the Araxes of 
+ch. 205, separating Cyrus’ kingdom from the Massagetae, 
+must be either the Oxus (Jihon) or Jaxartes (Sihon), both of 
+which now flow into the Aral Sea. For a full discussion 
+of the question the reader is referred to Essay IX, in the 
+Appendix to Book I. of Rawlinson’s Herodotus. 
+
+
+255 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+“Ελληνες ναυτίλλονται πᾶσα καὶ ἡ ἔξω στηλέων 
+θάλασσα ή ᾿Ατλαντὶς καλεομένη καὶ 3 ᾿Βρυθρὴ 
+μία ἐοῦσα τυγχάνει" 7) δὲ Κασπίη ἐστὶ ἑτέρη ἐπ᾽ 
+ἑωυτῆς, ἐοῦσα μῆκος μὲν πλόου εἰρεσίῃ χρεωμένῳ 
+πεντεκαίδεκα ἡμερέων, εὖρος δέ, τῇ εὐρυτάτη ἐστὶ 
+αὐτὴ .ἑωυτῆς, ὀκτὼ ἡμερέων. καὶ τὰ μὲν πρὸς 
+τὴν ἑσπέρην φέροντα τῆς θαλάσσης ταύτης ὁ 
+Καύκασος παρατείνει, ἐὸν ὀρέων καὶ πλήθεϊ μέ- 
+γιστον καὶ μεγάθεϊ ὑψηλότατον. ἔθνεα δὲ ἀνθρώ- 
+πων πολλὰ καὶ παντοῖα ἐν ἑωυτῷ ἔχει ὁ Καύ- 
+κασος, τὰ πολλὰ πάντα ἀπ᾽ ὕλης ἀγρίης ζώοντα: 
+ἐν τοῖσι καὶ δένδρεα φύλλα τοιῆσδε ἰδέης παρεχό- 
+μενα εἶναι λέγεται, τὰ τρίβοντάς τε καὶ παρα- 
+μέσγοντας ὕδωρ ζῶα ἑωυτοῖσι ἐς τὴν ἐσθῆτα 
+ἐγγράφειν' τὰ δὲ ζῷα οὐκ ἐκπλύνεσθαι, ἀλλὰ 
+συγκαταγηράσκειν τῷ ἄλλῳ εὐρίῳ κατά πε 
+ἐνυφανθέντα ἀρχήν. μῖξιν δὲ τούτων τῶν ἀνθρώ- 
+πων εἶναι ἐμφανέα κατά περ τοῖσι προβάτοισι. 
+
+904. Τὰ μὲν δὴ πρὸς ἑσπέρην τῆς θαλάσσης 
+ταύτης τῆς Κασπίης καλεομένης ὁ Καύκασος 
+ἀπέργει, τὰ δὲ πρὸς ἠῶ τε καὶ ἥλιον ἀνατέλλοντα 
+πεδίον ἐκδέκεται πλῆθος ἄ ἄπειρον ἐς ἄποψιν. τοῦ 
+ὧν $7 πεδίου τούτου τοῦ μεγάλον οὐκ ἐλαχίστην 
+μοῖραν μετέχουσι οἱ Μασσαγέται, ἐπ᾽ οὓς ὁ Κῦρος 
+ἔσχε προθυμίην στρατεύσασθαι. πολλά τε γάρ 
+μιν καὶ μεγάλα τὰ ἐπαείροντα καὶ ἐποτρύνοντα 
+ἣν, πρῶτον μὲν ἡ γένεσις, τὸ δοκέειν πλέον τι 
+εἶναι ἀνθρώπου, δεύτερα δὲ ἡ εὐτυχίη ἡ κατὰ 
+τοὺς πολέμους γενομένη" ὅκῃ γὰρ ἰθύσειε στρα- 
+τεύεσθαι Κῦρος, ἀμήχανον ἦν ἐκεῖνο τὸ ἔθνος 
+διαφυγεῖν. 
+
+905. Ἦν δὲ τοῦ ἀνδρὸς ἀποθανόντος γυνὴ τῶν 
+256 
+
+
+BOOK I. 203-205 
+
+
+beyond the pillars of Heracles, which they call 
+
+
+. Atlantic, and the Red Sea, are all one: but the 
+
+
+Caspian is separate and by itself. Its length is what 
+a ship rowed by oars can traverse in fifteen days, and 
+its breadth, where it is broadest, is an eight days’ 
+journey. Along its western shore stretches the range 
+of Caucasus, which has more and higher mountains 
+than any other range. Many and “all manner of 
+nations dwell in the Caucasus, and the most of them 
+live on the fruits of the wild wood. Here, it is said, 
+are trees growing leaves that men crush and mix 
+with water and use for the painting of figures on 
+their clothing ; these figures cannot be washed out, 
+but last as long as the wool, as if they had been 
+woven into it from the first. Men and women here 
+(they say) have intercourse openly, a“ beasts of 
+the flock. 
+
+204. This sea called Caspian is hemmed in to the - 
+west by the Caucasus: towards the east and the sun- 
+rise there stretches from its shores a boundless plain 
+as far as sight can reach. The greater part of this 
+wide plain is the country of the Massagetae, against 
+whom Cyrus was eager to lead his army. For there 
+were many reasons of weight that heartened and 
+encouraged him so to do: first, his birth, whereby 
+he seemed to be something more than mortal man, 
+and next, his victories in his wars; for no nation 
+that Cyrus undertook to attack could escape from 
+him. 
+
+- 205. Now at this time the Massagetae were ruled 
+251 
+
+
+lr 
+
+
+hs 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Μασσαγετέων βασίλεια. Τόμυρίς of ἣν οὔνομα. 
+ταύτην πέµπων 0 Kópos ἐμνᾶτο τῷ λόγῳ θέλων 
+γυναῖκα ἣν ἔχειν. ἡ δὲ Τόμυρις συνιεῖσα οὐκ 
+αὐτήν μιν μνώμενον ἀλλὰ τὴν Μασσαγετέων 
+βασιληίην, ἀπείπατο τὴν πρόσοδον. Κῦρος δὲ 
+μετὰ τοῦτο, ὥς οἱ δόλῳ οὐ προεχώρεε, ἐλάσας ἐπὶ 
+τὸν ᾿Αράξεα ἐποιέετο ἐκ τοῦ ἐμφανέος ἐπὶ τοὺς 
+
+ασσαγέτας στρατηίην, γεφύρας τε ζευγνύων ἐπὶ 
+τοῦ ποταμοῦ διάβασιν τῷ στρατῷ, καὶ πύργους 
+ἐπὶ πλοίων τῶν διαπορθμευόντων τὸν ποταμὸν 
+οἰκοδομεόμενός. 
+
+206. Ἔχοντι δέ οἱ τοῦτον τὸν πόνον πέμψασα 
+ἡ Τόμυρις κήρυκα ἔλεγε τάδε. “"Ὦ βασιλεῦ My- 
+δων, παῦσαι σπεύδων τὰ σπεύδεις: οὐ γὰρ ἂν εἰδείης 
+εἴ τοι ἐς καιρὸν ἔσται ταῦτα TEACO Eva: παυσά- 
+pevos δὲ βασίλευε τῶν σεωυτοῦ, καὶ ἡμέας ἀνέχευ 
+ὁρέων ἄρχοντας τῶν περ ἄρχομεν. οὔκων ἐθελήσεις 
+ὑποθήκῃσι τῇσιδε χρᾶσθαι, ἀλλὰ πάντως μᾶλλον 
+4 δι ἡσυχίης εἶναι σὺ δὴ εἰ μεγάλως προθυμέαι 
+Μασσαγετέων πειρηθῆναι, φέρε μόχθον μὲν τὸν 
+ἔχεις ζευγνὺς τὸν ποταμὸν ἅπες, σὺ δὲ ἡμέων 
+ἀναχωρησάντων ἀπὸ τοῦ ποταμοῦ τριῶν ἡμερέων 
+ὁδὸν διάβαινε ἐς τὴν ἡμετέρην: εἰ ὃ ἡμέας βού- 
+λεαι ἐσδέξασθαι μᾶλλον ἐς τὴν ὑμετέρην, σὺ 
+τὠυτὸ τοῦτο ποίεε. ταῦτα δὲ ἀκούσας ὁ Κῦρος 
+συνεκάλεσε Περσέων τοὺς πρώτους, συναγείρας 
+δὲ τούτους ἐς μέσον σφι προετίθεε τὸ πρῆγμα, 
+συμβουλευόμενος ὁκότερα ποιέῃ. τῶν δὲ κατὰ 
+τὠυτὸ αἱ γνῶμαι συνεξέπιπτον κελευόντων ἐσδέ- 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+κεσθαι Τόμυρίν τε καὶ τὸν στρατὸν αὐτῆς ἐς 
+τὴν χώρην. 
+
+
+258 
+
+
+BOOK I. 205-206 
+
+
+by a queen, called Tomyris, whose husband was dead. 
+Cyrus sent a message with a pretence of wooing her 
+for his wife, but Tomyris would have none of this 
+advance, well understanding that he wooed not her 
+but the kingdom of the Massagetae. So when guile 
+availed him nothing Cyrus marched to the Araxes 
+and openly prepared to attack the Massagetae; he 
+bridged the river that his army might cross, and . 
+built towers on the pontoons that should carry his 
+men over. 
+. 206. But while he was at this work Tomyris sent 
+a herald to him with this message: “Cease, king of 
+the Medes, from that on which you are intent; for 
+you cannot know if the completion of this work will 
+be for your advantage. Cease, and be king of your 
+own country; and be patient to see us ruling those 
+whom we rule. But if you will not take this counsel, 
+and will do all rather than remain at peace, then if 
+you so greatly desire to essay the strength of the 
+Massagetae, do you quit your present labour of 
+bridging the river, and suffer us to draw off three 
+days’ journey from the Araxes; and when that is 
+done, cross into our country. Or if you desire rather 
+to receive us into your country, do you then yourself 
+withdraw as I have said." Hearing this, Cyrus 
+assembled the chief among the Persians and laid the 
+matter before them, asking them to advise him 
+which he should do. They all spoke to the same 
+purpose, urging him to suffer Tomyris and her army 
+to enter his country. 
+
+259 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+207. Παρεὼν δὲ καὶ μεμφόμενος τὴν γνώμην 
+ταύτην Κροῖσος ὁ ὁ Λυδὸς ἀπεδείκνυτο ἐναντίην τῇ 
+προκειµένῃ γνώμῃ, λέγων τάδε. “QO βασιλεῦ, 
+εἶπον μὲν καὶ | πρότερόν τοι ὅτι ἐπεί με. Zeus ἔδωκέ 
+τοι, τὸ ἂν ὁρῶ σφάλμα ἐὸν οἴκῳ τῷ σῷ, κατὰ δύ- 
+ναμιν ἀποτρέψειν' τὰ δὲ μοι παθήματα ἐόντα 
+ἀχάριτα μαθήματα γέγονε. εἰ μὲν ἀθάνατος δοκέεις 
+εἶναι καὶ στρατιῆς τοιαύτης ἄρχειν, οὐδὲν ἂν ein 
+πρῆγμα γνώμας ἐμὲ σοὶ ἀποφαίνεσθαι: εἶ δ᾽ 
+ἔγνωκας ὅτι ἄνθρωπος καὶ σὺ εἷς καὶ ἑτέρων 
+τοιῶνδε ἄρχεις, ἐκεῖνο πρῶτον μάθε, ὡς κύκλος 
+τῶν ἀνθρωπηίων ἐστὶ πρηγμάτων, περιφερόμενος 
+δὲ οὐκ ἐᾷ aiel τοὺς αὐτοὺς εὐτυχέειν. (ἤδη à ὧν ἔχω 
+γνώμην περὶ τοῦ προκειμένου πρήγματος τὰ 
+ἔμπαλιν ἢ οὗτοι. εἰ γὰρ ἐθελήσομεν ἐσδέξασθαι 
+τοὺς πολεμίους ἐς τὴν χώρην, δὸς τοι ἐν αὐτῷ 
+κίνδυνος € ἔνι" ἑσσωθεὶς μὲν προσαπολλύεις πᾶσαν 
+τὴν ἀρχήν. δῆλα γὰρ δὴ ὅτι νικῶντες Μασ- 
+σαγέται oU τὸ ὀπίσω φεύξονται GNX’ ἐπ᾿ ἀρχὰς 
+τὰς σὰς ἐλῶσι. νωκῶν δὲ οὐ νικᾷς τοσοῦτον 
+ὅσον εἰ διαβὰς ἐ ἐς τὴν ἐκείνων, νικῶν Μασσαγέτας, 
+ἕποιο φεύγουσι. τὠυτὸ yap ἀντιθήσω ἐκείνῳ, 
+ὅτι νικήσας τοὺς ἀντιουμένους ἐλᾷς ἰθὺ τῆς 
+ἀρχῆς. τῆς Τομύριος. χωρίς τε τοῦ ἀπηγημένου 
+αἰσχρὸν καὶ οὐκ ἀνασχετὸν Κῦρόν γε τὸν Καμ- 
+βύσεω γυναικὶ εἴξαντα ὑποχωρῆσαι τῆς .Χώρης. 
+νῦν ὧν μοι δοκέει διαβάντας προελθεῖν ὅ ὅσον ἂν 
+ἐκεῖνοι ὑπεξίωσι, ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ τάδε ποιεῦντας πει- 
+ρᾶσθαι ἐκείνων περιγενέσθαι. ὡς γὰρ ἐγὼ πυν- 
+θάνομαι, Μασσαγέται εἰσὶ ἀγαθῶν τε Ἡερσικῶν 
+ἄπειροι καὶ καλῶν μεγάλων ἀπαθέες. τούτοισι 
+
+
+260 
+
+
+BOOK I. 207 
+
+
+207. But Croesus the Lydian, who was present, 
+was displeased by their counsel and spoke against it. 
+* Sire," said he, * you have ere now heard from me 
+that since Zeus has given me to you I will to the 
+best of my power turn aside whatever mischance I 
+see threatening your house. And disaster has been 
+my teacher. Now if you deem yourself and the army 
+that you lead to be immortal, it is not for me to give 
+you advice; but if you know that you and those 
+whom you rule are but men, then I must first teach 
+you this: men's fortunes are on a wheel, which in its 
+turning suffers not the same man to prosper for ever. 
+Then, if that be true, I am not of the same mind on 
+the business in hand as these your other counsellors. 
+This is the danger if we agree to suffer the enemy 
+to enter your country: if you lose the battle you 
+lose. your empire also, for it is plain that if the 
+Massagetae win they will not retreat back but will 
+march against your provinces. And if you con- 
+quer them it is a lesser victory than if you crossed 
+into their country and routed the Massagetae and 
+pursued them; for I balance your chances against 
+theirs, and suppose that when you have worsted 
+your adversaries you will march for the seat of 
+Tomyris’ power. And besides what I have shown, it 
+were a thing shameful and not to be borne that Cyrus 
+the son of Cambyses should yield and give ground 
+before a woman. Now therefore it is in my mind that 
+we should cross and go forward as far as they go 
+back, and that then we should endeavour to overcome 
+them by doing as I shall show. As I learn, the 
+Massagetae have no experience of the good things 
+of Persia, nor have they ever fared well in respect of 
+what is greatly desirable. For these men, therefore, 
+
+
+261 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὧν τοῖσι ἀνδράσι τῶν προβάτων ἀφειδέως πολλὰ 
+κατακόψαντας. καὶ σκευάσαντας προθεῖναι ἐν τῷ 
+στρατοπέδῳ τῷ ἡμετέρῳ δαῖτα, πρὸς δὲ καὶ κρη- 
+τῆρας ἀφειδέως οἴνου ἀκρήτου καὶ σιτία παντοῖα" 
+ποιήσαντας δὲ ταῦτα, ὑπολιπομένους τῆς στρατιῆς 
+τὸ φλαυρύτατον, τοὺς λοιποὺς αὖτις ἐξαναχωρέειν 
+ἐπὶ τὸν ποταμόν. ἣν γὰρ ἐγὸ γνώμης μὴ ἁμάρτω, 
+κεῖνοι ἰδόμενοι ἀγαθὰ πολλὰ τρέψονταί τε πρὸς 
+αὐτὰ καὶ ἡμῖν τὸ ἐνθεῦτεν λείπεται ἀπόδεξις 
+ἔργων μεγάλων." 
+
+208. Γνῶμαι μὲν αὗται συνέστασαν' Κῦρος δὲ 
+μετεὶς τὴν προτέρην γνώμην, τὴν Κροίσου δὲ 
+ἑλόμενος, προηγόρευε 'T ομύρι ἐξαναχωρέειν ὡς 
+αὐτοῦ διαβησομένου ἐπ᾽ é ἐκείνην. ἣ μὲν δὴ ἐξανε- 
+χώρεε κατὰ ὑπέσχετο πρῶτα" Κῦρος δὲ Ιζροῖσον 
+ἐς τὰς χεῖρας ἐσθεὶς τῷ ἑωυτοῦ παιδὶ Καμβύσῃ, 
+τῷ περ τὴν βασιληίην ἐδίδου, καὶ πολλὰ έτει- 
+λάµενός οἱ τιμᾶν τε αὐτὸν καὶ εὖ ποιέειν, ἣν 7) 
+διάβασις ἡ ἐπὶ Μασσαγέτας μὴ ὀρ θωθῇ, ταῦτα 
+ἐντειλάμενος καὶ ἀποστείλας τούτους ἐς Πέρσας, 
+αὐτὸς διέβαινε τὸν ποταμὸν καὶ ὁ στρατὸς αὐτοῦ. 
+
+209. ᾿Επείτε δὲ ἐπεραιώθη, τὸν. ᾿Αράξεα, νυκτὸς 
+ἐπελθούσης εἶδε ὄψιν εὔδων ἐν τῶν Μασσαγετέων 
+τῇ χώρῃ τοιήνδε" ἐδόκεε ὁ Κῦρος ἐ ἐν τῷ ὕπνῳ ὁρᾶν 
+τῶν Ὑστάσπεος παίδων τὸν πρεσβύτατον € ἔχοντα 
+ἐπὶ τῶν ὤμων. πτέρυγας καὶ τουτέων τῇ μὲν 
+τὴν ᾿;Ασίην τῇ δὲ τὴν Εὐρώπην ἐπισκιάξειν. 
+Ὑστάσπεϊ δὲ τῷ Αρσάμεος ἐόντι ἀνδρὶ᾽ A χαιμενίδῃ 
+ἦν τῶν παίδων Δαρεῖος πρεσβύτατος, ἐὼν τότε 
+ἡλικίην ἐς εἴκοσί κου μάλιστα ἔτεα, καὶ οὗτος 
+κατελέλειπτο ἐν Πέρσῃσι" οὐ γὰρ εἶχέ κω ἡλικίην 
+στρατεύεσθαι. ἐπεὶ ὧν δὴ ἐξηγέρθη ὁ Κῦρος, 
+
+
+262 
+
+
+BOOK I. 207-209 
+
+
+I counsel you to cut up the flesh of many of your 
+sheep and goats into portions unstintingly, and to 
+cook it and serve it as a feast in our camp, providing 
+many bowls of unmixed wine withal and all manner 
+of food, Then let your army withdraw to the river 
+again, leaving behind that part of it which is of least 
+account. For if I err not in my judgment, when the 
+Massagetae see so many good things they will betake 
+them to feasting thereon; and it will be for us then 
+to achieve mighty deeds.” 
+
+208. So these opinions contended ; and Cyrus set 
+aside his former plan and chose that of Croesus; 
+wherefore he bade Tomyris draw her army off, for he 
+would cross (he said) and attack her; so she 
+withdrew as she had promised before. Then he gave 
+Croesus to the care of his own son Cambyses, to 
+whom he purposed to leave his sovereignty, charging 
+Cambyses to honour Croesus and entreat him well, if 
+the crossing of the river against the Massagetae should 
+not prosper. With this charge he sent the two back 
+to Persia, and crossed the river, he and his army. 
+
+209. Then, being now across the Araxes, he dreamt 
+at night while sleeping in the country of the Massa- 
+getae, that he saw the eldest of the sons of Hystaspes 
+wearing wings on his shoulders, the one wing over- 
+shadowing Asia and the other Europe. (Hystaspes 
+son of Arsames was an Achaemenid, and Darius was 
+the eldest of his sons, being then about twenty years 
+old; this Darius had been left behind in Persia, 
+being not yet of an age to follow the army.) So when 
+
+
+263 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐδίδου λόγον ἑωυτῷ περὶ τῆς ὄψιος. ὡς δέ οἱ 
+ἐδόκεε μεγάλη εἶναι ἡ ὄψις, καλέσας Ὑστάσπεα 
+καὶ ἀπολαβὼν μοῦνον εἶπε ' “Ὕστασπες, TALS σος 
+ἐπιβουλεύων ἐμοί τε καὶ τῇ ἐμῇ ἀρχῇ ἑάλωκε. ὡς 
+δὲ ταῦτα ἀτρεκέως οἶδα, ἐ ἐγὼ σημανέω" ἐμεῦ θεοὶ 
+κήδονται καί μοι πάντα προδεικνύουσι τὰ ἐπιφε- 
+ρόµενα. ἤδη ὧν ἐν τη παροιχομένῃ νυκτὶ εὔδων 
+εἶδον τῶν σῶν παίδων τὸν πρεσβύτατον ἔχοντα 
+ἐπὶ τῶν ὤμων πτέρυγας καὶ τουτέων τῇ μὲν. .τὴν 
+᾿Ασίην τῇ δὲ τὴν Εὐρώπην ἐπισκιάζειν. οὔκων 
+ἐστὶ μηχανὴ ἀπὸ τῆς ὄψιος ταύτης οὐξεμία τὸ μὴ 
+ἐκεῖνον ἐπιβουλεύειν ἐμοί" σύ νυν τὴν ταχίστην 
+τορεύεο ὀπίσω ἐς Πέρσας καὶ ποίεε ὅκως, ἐπεὰν 
+ἐγὼ τάδε καταστρεψάμενος ἔλθω ἐκεῖ, ὥς μοι 
+καταστήσεις τὸν παῖδα ἐς ἔλεγχον. a 
+
+210. Kópos μὲν δοκέων οἱ Δαρεῖον ἐπιβουλεύειν» 
+ἔλεγε τάδε ᾿ τῷ δὲ ὁ 0 δαίμων προέφαινε ὡς αὐτὸς 
+μὲν τελευτήσειν αὐτοῦ ταύτῃ μέλλοι, ἡ δὲ βα- 
+σιληίη αὐτοῦ περιχωρέοι ἐς Δαρεῖον. ἀμείβεται 
+δὴ à ὧν ὁ YoráoT)S τοῖσιδε. O βασιλεῦ, μὴ εἴη 
+ἀνὴρ Πέρσης γεγονὼς ὅστις του ἐπιβουλεύσειε, et 
+δ' ἔστι, ἀπόλοιτο ὡς τάχιστα" ὃς ἀντὶ μὲν δούλων 
+ἐποίησας ἐλευθέρους Πέρσας εἶναι, ἀντὶ δὲ ἄ ἄρχε- 
+σθαι ὑπ᾽ ἄλλων ἄρχειν ἁπάντων. εἰ δέ τίς τοι 
+ὄψις ἀπαγγέλλει παῖδα τὸν ἐμὸν νεώτερα βου- 
+λεύειν περὶ σέο, ἐγώ τοι παραδίδωμι χρᾶσθαι 
+αὐτῷ τοῦτο ὅ τι σὺ Βούλεαι." 
+
+911. Ὑστάσπης μὲν τούτοισι ἀμειψάμενος καὶ 
+διαβὰς τὸν ᾿Αράξεα ἤιε ἐς Πέρσας φυλάξων 
+Κύρῳ τὸν παῖδα Δαρεῖον, Κῦρος δὲ προελθὼν 
+ἀπὸ τοῦ ᾿Αράξεω ἡμέρης ὁδὸν ἐποίεε κατὰ τὰς 
+Κροίσου ὑποθήκας. μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα Κύρου τε 
+
+
+264 
+
+
+BOOK I. 209-211 
+
+
+Cyrus awoke he considered his vision, and because 
+it seemed to him to be of great import, he sent for 
+Hystaspes and said to him privately, “I find, 
+Hystaspes, that your son is guilty of plotting against 
+me and my sovereignty; and I will tell you how I 
+know this for a certainty. I am a man for whom the 
+gods take thought, and show me beforehand all that 
+is coming. Now this being so, I have seen in a 
+dream in the past night your eldest son with wings 
+on his shoulders, overshadowing Asia with the one 
+and Europe with the other; wherefore it is from 
+this vision most certain that he is plotting against 
+me. Do you therefore go with all speed back to 
+Persia, and so act that when I come thither after 
+subduing this country you shall bring your son before 
+me to be questioned of this." 
+
+210. So spoke Cyrus, thinking that Darius was 
+plotting against him; but in truth heaven was 
+showing him that he himself was to die in the land 
+where he was, and Darius to inherit his kingdom. 
+So then Hystaspes answered him thus :—“ Sire, the 
+gods forbid that any Persian born should plot against 
+you! but if such there be, may he speedily perish ; 
+for you have made the Persians freemen instead of 
+slaves and rulers of all instead of subjects. But if 
+your vision does indeed tell that my son is planning 
+aught to your hurt, take him; he is yours to use 
+as pleases you.” 
+
+211. Having so answered, Hystaspes returned 
+across the Araxes to Persia to watch Darius for 
+Cyrus; and Cyrus, going forward a day’s journey 
+from the Araxes, did according to Croesus’ advice. 
+After this Cyrus and the sound part of the Persian 
+
+
+265 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+καὶ Περσέων τοῦ καθαροῦ στρατοῦ ἀπελά- 
+σαντος ὀπίσω ἐπὶ τὸν ᾿Αράξεᾶ, λειφθέντος δὲ 
+τοῦ ἀχρηίου, ἐπελθοῦσα τῶν Μασσαγετέων 
+τριτημορὶς τοῦ στρατοῦ τούς τε λειφθέντας τῆς 
+Κύρου στρατιῆς ἐφόνευε ἀλεξομένους καὶ τὴν 
+προκειμένην ἰδόντες δαῖτα, ὡς ἐχειρώσαντο τοὺς 
+ἐναντίους, κλιθέντες ἐδαίνυντο, πληρωθέντες δὲ 
+φορβῆς καὶ οἴνου ηὗδον. οἱ δὲ Πέρσαι ἐπελθόντες 
+πολλοὺς μὲν σφέων ἐφόνευσαν, πολλῷ δ᾽ ἔτι 
+πλεῦναςφ᾽ ἐζώγρησαν καὶ ἄλλους καὶ τὸν τῆς Baci- 
+λείης Τομύριος παῖδα στρατηγέοντα Μασσαγετέων, 
+τῷ οὔνομα ἦν Σπαργαπίσης. 
+
+919, Ἢ δὲ πυθομένη τἆ τε περὶ τὴν στρατιὴν 
+γεγονότα καὶ τὰ περὶ τὸν παῖδα, τ πέμπουσα κήρυκα 
+παρὰ Κῦρον ἔλεγε τάδε. “ "Amo TE αἵματος Κῦρε. 
+μηδὲν ἐπαερθῇς τῷ γεγονότι τῷδε πρήγματι, εἰ . 
+ἀμπελίνῳ καρπῷ, τῷ περ αὐτοὶ ἐμπιπλάμενοι 
+μαίνεσθε οὕτω ὥστε. κατιόντος τοῦ οἴνου ἐς τὸ 
+σῶμα ἐπαναπλέειν ὑμῖν ἔπεα κακά, τοιούτῳ φαρ- 
+μάκῳ δολώσας ἐκράτησας παιδὸς τοῦ ἐμοῦ, ἀλλ᾽ 
+οὐ μάχῃ κατὰ τὸ καρτερόν. νῦν ὧν µευ εὖ παραι- 
+νεούσης ὑπόλαβε τὸν λόγον" ἀποδούς μοι τὸν 
+παῖδα ἄπιθι € ἐκ τῆσδε τῆς χώρης ἀζήμιος, Μασ- 
+σαγετέων τριτημορί t τοῦ στρατοῦ κατυβρίσας. 
+εἰ δὲ ταῦτα οὐ ποιήσεις, ἥλιον ἐπόμνυμί τοι τὸν 
+Μασσαγετέων δεσπότην, ἢ Ù μέν σε ἐγὼ καὶ ἅπλη- 
+στον ἐόντα αἵματος κορέσω. 
+
+218. Κῦρος μὲν ἐπέων οὐδένα τούτων ἀνενει- 
+χθέντων ἐποιέετο λόγον: ὁ δὲ τῆς βασιλείης 
+Ῥομύριος παῖς Σπαργαπίσης, ὥς μιν ὃ τε οἶνος 
+ἀνῆκε καὶ ἔμαθε ἵνα 5v κακοῦ, δεηθεὶς Κύρου 
+ἐκ τῶν δεσμῶν λυθῆναι ἔτυχε, ὡς δὲ ἐλύθη τε 
+
+
+266 
+
+
+BOOK I. ar1—213 
+
+
+army marched away back to the Araxes, leaving 
+behind those that were useless; whereupon a third 
+part of the host of the Massagetae attacked those of 
+the army who were left behind and slew them 
+despite resistance; then, seeing the banquet spread, 
+when they had overcome their enemies they sat 
+down and feasted, and after they had taken their fill 
+of food and wine they fell asleep. Then the Persians 
+came upon them and slew many and took many 
+more alive, among whom was the son of Tomyris 
+the queen, Spargapises by name, the leader of the 
+Massagetae. 
+
+212. When Tomyris heard what had befallen her 
+army and her son, she senta herald to Cyrus with this 
+message :—** Bloodthirsty Cyrus, be not uplifted by 
+this that you have done; it is no matter for pride if 
+the fruit of the vine—that fruit whereof you Persians 
+drink even to madness, so that the wine passing into 
+your bodies makes evil words to rise in a flood to 
+your lips—has served you as a drug to master my 
+son withal, by guile and not in fair fight. Now 
+therefore take this word of good counsel from me: 
+give me back my son and depart unpunished from 
+this country; it is enough that you have done 
+despite to a third part of the host of the Massagetae. 
+But if you will not do this, then I swear by the sun, 
+the lord of the Massagetae, that for all you are so 
+insatiate of blood, I will give you your fill thereof.” 
+
+213. This message was brought to Cyrus, who 
+cared nothing for it. But Spar; gapises, the son of 
+the queen Tomyris, when his drunkenness left him 
+and he knew his evil plight, entreated Cyrus that he 
+might be loosed from his bonds; and this was granted 
+
+
+VOL.I. L 267 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τάχιστα καὶ τῶν χειρῶν ἐκράτησε, διεργάζεται 
+ἑωυτόν. 
+
+214. Καὶ δὴ οὗτος μὲν τρόπῳ τοιούτῳ τελευτᾷ" 
+Τόμυρις δέ, ὦ ὥς οἱ Κῦρος οὐκ ἐσήκουσε, συλλέξασα 
+πᾶσαν τὴν ἑωυτῆς δύναμιν συνέβαλε Κύρῳ. ταύ- 
+την τὴν μάχην, ὅσαι δὴ Βαρβάρων ἀνδρῶν μάχαι 
+ἐγένοντο, κρίνω ἰσχυροτάτην γενέσθαι, καὶ δὴ καὶ 
+πυνθάνομαι οὕτω τοῦτο γενόμενον. πρῶτα. μὲν 
+γὰρ λέγεται αὐτοὺς διαστάντας ἐς ἀλλήλους 
+τοξεύειν, μετὰ δὲ ὥς σφι τὰ βέλεα ἐξετετόξευτο, 
+συμπεσόντας τῇσι αἰχμῇσί τε καὶ τοῖσι ἐγχεέρι- 
+δίοισι συνέχεσθαι. χρόνον τε δὴ ἐπὶ πολλὸν 
+συνεστάναι μαχομένους καὶ οὐδετέρους ἐθέλειν 
+φεύγειν' τέλος δὲ οἱ Μασσαγέται περιεγένοντο. 
+jj τεδὴ πολλὴ τῆς Περσικῆς στρατιῆς αὐτοῦ ταύτῃ 
+διεφθάρη καὶ δὴ καὶ αὐτὸς Κῦρος τελευτᾷ, βασι- 
+λεύσας τὸ πάντα ἑνὸς δέοντα τριήκοντα ἔτεα. 
+ἀσκὸν δὲ πλήσασα αἵματος ἀνθρωπηΐου Τόμυρις 
+ἐδίζητο ἐ ἐν τοῖσι τεθνεῶσι τῶν Περσέων τὸν Κύρου 
+νέκυν, ὡς δὲ εὗρε, ἐναπῆκε αὐτοῦ τὴν κεφαλὴν € ἐς 
+τὸν ἀσκόν, λυμαινομένη δὲ τῷ νεκρῷ ἐπέλεγε τάδε" 
+«Σὺ μὲν ἐμὲ ζῶσάν τε καὶ νικῶσάν σε μάχῃ 
+ἀπώλεσας, παῖδα τὸν. ἐμὸν ἑλὼν δόλῳ" σὲ δ᾽ eyo, 
+κατά περ ἠπείλησα, αἵματος κορέσω. " qà uev δὴ 
+κατὰ τὴν Κύρου τελευτὴν τοῦ βίου, πολλῶν λόγων 
+λεγομένων, ὅδε µοι ὁ πιθανώτατος εἴρηται. 
+
+215. Μασσαγέται δὲ ἐσθῆτά τε ὁμοίην τῇ 
+Σκυθικῇ φορέουσι καὶ δίαιταν ἔχουσι, ἱππόται δὲ 
+εἰσὶ καὶ ἄνιπποι (ἀμφοτέρων γὰρ μετέχουσι) καὶ 
+τοξόται τε καὶ αἰχμοφόροι, σαγάρις νομίξοντες 
+ἔχειν. χρυσῷ δὲ καὶ χαλκῷ τὰ πάντα χρέωνται" 
+
+
+268 
+
+
+BOOK I. 213-215 
+
+
+him; but no sooner was he loosed and had the use 
+of his hands, than he made away with himself. 
+
+214. Such was the end of Spargapises. Tomyris, 
+when Cyrus would not listen to her, collected all her 
+power and joined battle with him. This fight I 
+judge to have been the stubbornest of all fights 
+that were ever fought by men that were not Greek ; 
+and indeed I have learnt that this was so. For 
+first (it is said) they shot at each other from a dis- 
+tance with arrows; presently, their arrows being all 
+shot away, they rushed upon each other and fought 
+at grips with their spears and their daggers ; and for 
+a long time they battled foot to foot and neither 
+would give ground; but at last the Massagetae had 
+the mastery. There perished the greater part of the 
+Persian army, and there fell Cyrus himself, having 
+reigned thirty years in all save one. Tomyris filled a 
+skin with human blood, and sought for Cyrus’ body 
+among the Persian dead; when she found it, she put 
+his head into the skin, and spoke these words of 
+insult to the dead man: “Though I live and conquer 
+thee, thou hast undone me, overcoming my son by 
+guile; but even as I threatened, so will I do, and 
+give thee thy fill of blood." Many stories are related 
+of Cyrus’ death; this, that I have told, is the 
+worthiest of credence. 
+
+215. These Massagetae are like the Scythians in 
+their dress and manner of life. They are both 
+horsemen and footmen (having some of each kind), 
+and spearmen and bowmen; and it is their custom to 
+carry battle-axes. They ever use gold and bronze; 
+
+
+269 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Ld A 4 > , . ) Ww ὃ 4 , 
+ὅσα μὲν yàp ἐς αἰχμὰς καὶ ἄρδις καὶ σαγάρις, 
+χαλκῷ τὰ πάντα χρέωνται, ὅσα δὲ περὶ κεφαλὴν 
+καὶ ζωστῆρας καὶ μασχαλιστῆρας, χρυσῷ roc- 
+µέονται. ὣς δ᾽ αὕτως τῶν ἵππων τὰ μὲν περὶ τὰ 
+7 LÀ , 4 M M 
+στέρνα χαλκέους θώρηκας περιβάλλουσι, τὰ δὲ 
+περὶ τοὺς χαλινοὺς καὶ στόμια καὶ φάλαρα 
+ρυσῷ. σιδήρῳ δὲ οὐδ᾽ ἀργύρῳ χρέωνται οὐδέν" 
+^ 4 9 
+οὐδὲ γὰρ οὐδέ σφι ἐστὶ ἐν τῇ χώρῃ, ὁ δὲ χρυσὸς 
+καὶ ὁ χαλκὸς ἄπλετος. 
+916. Νόμοισι δὲ χρέωνται τοιοῖσιδε. γυναῖκα 
+μὲν γαμέει ἕκαστος, ταύτῃσι δὲ ἐπίκοινα χρέωνται: 
+M . ’ νο / r 
+τὸ γὰρ Σκύθας φασὶ Ἕλληνες ποιέειν, où Σκύθαι 
+εἰσὶ οἱ ποιέοντες ἀλλὰ Μασσαγέται: τῆς γὰρ 
+ἐπιθυμήσῃ γυναικὸς Μασσαγέτης ἀνήρ, τὸν φαρε- 
+^ . - ld 
+τρεῶνα ἀποκρεμάσας πρὸ τῆς ἁμάξης μίσγεται 
+$ ^ $ t / [4 2 \ 
+ἀδεῶς. οὗρος δὲ ἡλικίης σφι προκειται ἄλλος μὲν 
+4 
+οὐδείς: ἐπεὰν δὲ γέρων γένηται κάρτα, οἱ προσ- 
+ἡκοντές οἱ πάντες συνελθόντες θύουσί μιν κ 
+1 ή e 9 ^ e [d ` ~ , 
+ἄλλα πρόβατα ἅμα αὐτῷ, ἑψήσαντες δὲ τὰ κρέα 
+e , 
+κατευωχέονται. ταῦτα μὲν τὰ ὀλβιώτατά σφι 
+νενόμισται, τὸν δὲ νούσῳ τελευτήσαντα οὐ κατα- 
+σιτέονται ἀλλὰ γῇ κρύπτουσι, συμφορὴν ποιεύ- 
+νοι ὅτι οὐκ ἵκετο ἐς τὸ τυθῆναι. σπείρουσι 
+, [4 3 3 , . / , 9 lA 
+οὐδέν, GAN ἀπὸ κτηνέων ζώουσι καὶ ἴχθύων' 
+^ xy 4 ? a? / ^ 
+οἳ δὲ ἄφθονοί σφι ἐκ τοῦ Αράξεω ποταμοῦ παρα- 
+, ^ ^ 
+γίνονται γαλακτοπόται δ᾽ εἰσί. θεῶν δὲ μοῦνον 
+ἥλιον σέβονται, τῷ θύουσι ἵππους. νόος δὲ 
+οὗτος τῆς θυσίης τῶν θεῶν τῷ ταχίστφ πάντων 
+τῶν θνητῶν τὸ τάχιστον δατέονται. 
+
+
+270 
+
+
+BOOK Ἱ. 215-216 
+
+
+all their spear-points and arrow-heads and battle-axes 
+are of bronze, and gold is the adornment of their 
+headgear and belts and girdles. They treat their 
+horses in like manner, arming their forehands with 
+bronze breastplates and putting gold on reins, bits, 
+and cheekplates. But iron and silver they never 
+use; for there is none at all in their country, but 
+gold and bronze abounds. 
+
+216. Now, for their customs: each man marries a 
+wife, but the wives are common to all. The Greeks 
+say this is a Scythian custom; it is not so, but a 
+custom of the Massagetae. There, when a man 
+desires a woman, he hangs his quiver before her 
+waggon, and has intercourse with her, none hin- 
+dering. Though they set no certain term to life, yet 
+when a man is very old all his kin meet together 
+and kill him, with beasts of the flock besides, 
+then boil the flesh and feast on it. This is held 
+to be the happiest death; when a man dies of a 
+sickness they do not eat him, but bury him in the 
+earth, and lament that he would not live to be killed. 
+They never sow; their fare is their live-stock and 
+the fish which they have in abundance from the 
+Araxes. Their drink is milk. The sun is the only 
+god whom they worship; to him they sacrifice 
+horses; the reason of it is that he 1s the swiftest of 
+the gods and therefore they give him the swiftest of 
+mortal things. 
+
+
+271 
+
+
+BOOK II 
+
+
+B 
+
+
+1. Τελευτήσαντος δὲ - Κύρου παρέλαβε τὴν 
+βασιληίην Καμβύσης, Κύρου ἐὼν παῖς καὶ Kac- 
+σανδάνης τῆς Φαρνάσπεω θυγατρός, τῆς προαπο- 
+θανούσης Κῦρος αὐτός τε μέγα πένθος ἐποιήσατο 
+καὶ τοῖσι ἄλλοισι προεῖπε πᾶσι τῶν ἦρχε πένθος 
+ποιέεσθαι. ταύτης δὴ τῆς γυναικὸς ἐὼν παῖς καὶ 
+Κύρου Καμβύσης Ἴωνας μὲν καὶ Αἰολέας ὡς δού- 
+λους πατρωίους ἐόντας ἐνόμιξε, ἐπὶ δὲ Αἴγυπτον 
+ἐποιέετο στρατηλασίην ἄλλους τε παραλαβὼν 
+
+
+τῶν ἦρχε καὶ δὴ καὶ Ἑλλήνων τῶν ἐπεκράτεε. 
+
+
+2. Οἱ δὲ Αἰγύπτιοι, πρὶν μὲν ἢ Ψαμμήτιχον 
+σφέων βασιλεῦσαι, ἐνόμιζον ἑωυτοὺς πρώτους 
+γενέσθαι πάντων ἀνθρώπων: ἐπειδὴ δὲ Vap- 
+μήτιχος βασιλεύσας ἠθέλησε εἰδέναι οἵτινες γενοί- 
+aro πρῶτοι, ἀπὸ τούτου νομίζουσι Φρύγας 
+προτέρους γενέσθαι ἑωυτῶν, τῶν δὲ ἄλλων 
+ἑωυτούς. Ψαμμήτιχος δὲ ὡς οὐκ ἐδύνατο muv- 
+θανόμενος πὀρονοὐδένα τούτου ἀνευρεῖν, ot γενοίατο 
+πρῶτοι ἀνθρώπων, ἐπιτεχνᾶται τοιόνδε. παιδία 
+δύο νεογνὰ ἀνθρώπων τῶν ἐπιτυχόντων δίδωσι 
+ποιμένι τρέφειν ἐς τὰ ποίμνια τροφήν τινα τοιήνδε, 
+ἐντειλάμενος μηδένα ἀντίον αὐτῶν μηδεμίαν φωνὴν 
+ἱέναι, ἐν στέγῃ δὲ ἐρήμῃ ἐπ᾽ ἑωυτῶν κέεσθαι αὐτά, 
+καὶ τὴν ὥρην ἐπαγινέειν σφι αἶγας, πλήσαντα 
+δὲ γάλακτος τἆλλα διαπρήσσεσθαι' ταῦτα δὲ 
+ἐποίεέ τε καὶ ἐνετέλλετο Ψαμμήτιχος θέλων ἀκοῦ- 
+
+
+374 
+
+
+BOOK II 
+
+
+1. Arrer the death of Cyrus Cambyses inherited 
+his throne. He was the son of Cyrus and Cassandane 
+daughter of Pharnaspes, for whom, when she died 
+before him, Cyrus himself mourned deeply and bade 
+all his subjects mourn also. Cambyses was the son 
+of this woman and Cyrus. He considered the Ionians . 
+and Aeolians as slaves inherited from his father, and 
+prepared an expedition against Egypt, taking with 
+him, with others subject to him, some of the Greeks 
+over whom he held sway. 
+
+2. Now before Psammetichus became king of 
+_Egypt,! the Egyptians deemed themselves to be the 
+oldest nation on earth. But ever since he desired to 
+learn, on becoming king, what nation was oldest, 
+they have considered that, though they came before 
+all other nations, the Phrygians are older still. 
+Psammetichus, being nowise able to discover by 
+inquiry what men had first come into being, devised 
+a plan whereby he took two newborn children of 
+common men and gave them to a shepherd to 
+bring up among his flocks. He gave charge that 
+none should speak any word in their hearing ; they 
+were to lie by themselves in a lonely hut, and in 
+due season the shepherd was to bring goats and 
+give the children their milk and do all else 
+needful. Psammetichus did this, and gave this 
+charge, because he desired to hear what speech 
+
+1 In 664 B.C., probably. 
+275 
+
+
+peri 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+σαι τῶν παιδίων, ἀπαλλαχθέντων τῶν ἀσήμων 
+κνυξημάτων, ἥντινα φωνὴν ῥήξουσι πρώτην' τά 
+περ ὧν καὶ ἐγένετο. ὡς γὰρ διέτης χρόνος ἐγε- 
+γόνεε ταῦτα τῷ ποιμένι πρήσσοντι, ἀνοίγοντι 
+τὴν θύρην καὶ ἐσιόντι τὰ παιδία ἀμφάτερα 
+προσπίπτοντα Bexos ἐφώνεον,, ὀρέγοντα τὰς χεῖ- 
+ρας. τὰ μὲν δὴ πρῶτα ἀκούσας ἥσυχος ἦν ὁ 
+ποιμήν" ὡς δὲ πολλάκις φοιτέοντι καὶ ἐπιμελο- 
+μένῳ πολλὸν ἡ ἦν τοῦτο τὸ ἔπος, οὕτω δὴ σημήνας τῷ 
+δεσπότῃ ἤγαγε τὰ παιδία κελεύσαντος ἐς ὄψιν 
+τὴν ἐκείνου. ἀκούσας δὲ καὶ αὐτὸς ὁ Ψαμμήτιχος 
+ἐπγυνθάνετο οἵτινες -ἀνθρώπων͵ Beros τι καλέουσι, 
+πυνθανόμενος δὲ εὕρισκε Φρύγας καλέοντας τὸν 
+ἄρτον. οὕτω συνεχώρησαν Αὐγύπτεοι καὶ τοιούτῳ 
+σταθμησάμενοι πρήγματι τοὺς Φρύγας πρεσβυ- 
+τέρους εἶναι ἑωυτῶν. ὧδε μὲν γενέσθαι τῶν ἐρέων 
+τοῦ Ἡφαίστου τοῦ ἐν Μέμφι ἤκουον. " Ἕλληνες 
+δὲ λέγουσι ἄλλα τε μάταια πολλὰ καὶ á ὡς γυναικῶν 
+τὰς γλώσσας ò Ψαμμήτιχος ἐκταμὼν τὴν δίαιταν 
+οὕτω ἐποιήσατο τῶν παίδων παρὰ ταύτῃσι 
+τῇσι γυναιξί. | 
+
+3. Κατὰ μὲν δὴ τὴν. Nag 6° τῶν παίδων 
+τοσαῦτα ἔλεγον, ἤκουσα. δὲ καὶ ἄλλα ἐν Μέμφι 
+ἐλθὼν é ἐς λόγους τοῖσι ἱρεῦσι τοῦ Ἡφαίστου, καὶ 
+δὴ καὶ ἐς Θήβας τε καὶ ἐς Ηλίου πόλιν αὐτῶν 
+τούτων εἵνεκεν ἐτραπόμην, ἐθέλων΄ εἰδέναι εἰ 
+συμβήσονται τοῖσι λόγοισι τοῖσι ἐν Μέμφι" 
+οἱ γὰρ Ἡλιοπολῖται λέγονται Αἰγυπτίων εἶναι 
+λογιώτατοι. . τὰ μέν νυν θεῖα τῶν ἀπηγημάτων 
+οἷα ἤκουον οὐκ εἰ μὲ πρόθυμος ἐξηγέεσθαι, ἔξω $ 
+τὰ οὐνόματα αὐτῶν μοῦνον, νομίζων πάντας 
+
+
+276 
+
+
+BOOK Il. 2-3 
+
+
+would first break from the children, when they were 
+past the age of indistinct babbling. And he had his 
+wish ; for when the shepherd had done as he was 
+bidden for two years, one day as he opened the door 
+and entered both the children ran to him stretching 
+out their hands and calling * Bekos." When he first 
+heard this he said nothing of it; but coming often 
+and taking careful note, he was ever hearing this 
+same word, till at last he told the matter to his 
+master, and on command brought the children into 
+the king's presence. Psammetichus heard them him- 
+self, and inquired to what language this word Bekos 
+might belong; he found it to be a Phrygian word 
+signifying bread. Reasoning from this fact the 
+Egyptians confessed that the Phrygians were older 
+than they. This is the story which.I heard from the 
+priests of Hephaestus’! temple at Memphis; the 
+Greeks relate (among many foolish tales) that 
+Psammetichus made the children to be reared by 
+women whose tongues he had cut out. 
+
+3. Besides this story of the rearing of the children, 
+I heard also other things at Memphis, in converse 
+with the priests of Hephaestus ; and I visited Thebes - 
+too and Heliopolis for this very purpose, because’ I 
+desired to know if the people of those places would 
+tell me the same tale as the priests at Memphis; for 
+the people of Heliopolis are said to be the most 
+learned of the Egyptians. Now, for the stories which 
+I heard about the gods, I am not desirous to relate 
+them, saving only the names of the deities; for I 
+
+
+. .! Identified by the Greeks with the Egyptian Ptah. 
+277. 
+
+
+HERODOTUS ΄΄ 
+
+
+ἀνθρώπους ἴσον περὶ αὐτῶν ἐπίστασθαι" τὰ δ᾽ ἂν 
+ἐπιμνησθέω αὐτῶν, ὑπὸ τοῦ λόγου ἐξαναγκαζόμενος 
+ἐπιμνησθήσομαι. 
+
+4. Ὅσα δὲ ἀνθρωπήια πρήγματα, ὧδε ἔλεγον 
+ὁμολογέοντες σφίσι, πρώτους Αἰγυπτίους ἀνθρώ- 
+πων ἁπάντων ἐξευρεῖν τὸν ἐνιαυτόν, δυώδεκα 
+μέρεα δασαμένους τῶν ὡρέων ἐς αὐτόν: ταῦτα δὲ 
+ἐξευρεῖν ἐκ τῶν ἀστέρων ἔλεγον" ἄγουσι δὲ τοσῴδε 
+σοφώτερον Ἑλλήνῶν, ἐμοὶ δοκέειν, ὅσῳ "Ελληνες 
+μὲν διὰ τρίτου ἔτεος ἐμβόλιμον ἐπεμβάλλουσι τῶν 
+ὡρέων εἴνεκεν, Αἰγύπτιοι δὲ τριηκοντηµέρους 
+ἄγοντες τοὺς δυώδεκα μῆνας ἐπάγουσι ἀνὰ πᾶν 
+ἔτος πέντε ἡμέρας πάρεξ τοῦ ἀριθμοῦ, καί σφι ὁ 
+κύκλος τῶν ὡρέων ἐς τὠυτὸ περιιὼν παραγίνεται. 
+
+
+δυώδεκά τε θεῶν ἐπωνυμίας ἔλεγον πρώτους At- | 
+
+
+γυπτίους νομίσαι καὶ "Ελληνας παρὰ σφέων 
+ἀναλαβεῖν, βωμούς τε καὶ ἀγάλματα καὶ νηοὺς 
+θεοῖσι ἀπονεῖμαι σφέας πρώτους καὶ ζῶα ἐν λίθοισι 
+ἐγγλύψαι. καὶ τούτων μέν νυν τὰ πλέω ἔργῳ 
+ἐδήλουν οὕτω γενόμενα. βασιλεῦσαι δὲ πρῶτον 
+Αἰγύπτου ἄνθρωπον ἔλεγον Miva: ἐπὶ τούτου, 
+πλὴν τοῦ Θηβαϊκοῦ νομοῦ, πᾶσαν Αἴγυπτον εἶναι 
+ἕλος, καὶ αὐτῆς εἶναι οὐδὲν ὑπερέχον τῶν νῦν 
+ἔνερθε λίμνης τῆς Μοίριος ἐόντων, ἐς τὴν ἀνάπλοος 
+ἀπὸ θαλάσσης ἑπτὰ ἡμερέων ἐστὶ ἀνὰ τὸν 
+ποταμόν. 
+
+5. Καὶ εὖ μοι ἐδόκεον Xeyew περὶ τῆς χώρης" 
+δῆλα γὰρ δὴ καὶ μὴ προακούσαντι ἰδόντι δέ, ὅστις 
+γε σύνεσιν ἔχει, ὅτι Αἴγυπτος, ἐς τὴν "Ελληνες 
+
+1 There is much obscurity about the ‘‘Twelve Gods." 
+
+
+This only appears to be clear, that eight (or nine) gods form 
+the first order of the Egyptian hierarchy, and that there are 
+
+
+278 
+
+
+. 
+Fr a νομος ώς ως a a ος Eam" 
+
+
+. 
+poe v ὡς --- 
+
+
+BOOK II, 3-5 
+
+
+hold that no man knows about the gods more than 
+another ; and I will say no more about them than what 
+I ‘am constrained to say by the course of my history. 
+
+4. But as regarding human affairs, this was the 
+account in which they all agreed: the Egyptians, 
+they said, were the first men who reckoned by years 
+and made the year.to consist of twelve divisions of 
+the seasons. They discovered this from the stars 
+(so they said). And their reckoning is, to my mind, 
+a juster one than that of the Greeks; for the Greeks 
+add an intercalary month every other year, so that 
+the seasons may agree ; but the Egyptians, reckoning 
+thirty days to each of the twelve months, add five 
+days in every year over and above the number, and 
+so the completed circle of seasons is made to agree 
+withthe calendar. Further,the Egyptians (said they) 
+first used the appellations of twelve gods! (which the 
+Greeks afterwards borrowed from them); and it was 
+they who first assigned to the several gods their 
+altars and images and temples, and first carved 
+figures on stone. They showed me most of this by 
+plain proof. The first human king of Egypt, they 
+said, was Min. In his time all Egypt save the 
+Thebaic? province was a marsh: all the country 
+. that we now see was then covered by water, north of 
+the lake Moeris,? which lake is seven days' journey 
+up the river from the sea. 
+
+5. And I think that their account of the country 
+was true. For even though a man has not before 
+been told it he can at once see, if he have sense, that 
+that Egypt to which the Greeks sail is land acquired 
+twelve of the second rank. See ch. 43, and Rawlinson’s 
+essay (ch. 3 in his Appendix to Book II.). 
+
+
+2 The southern part of Upper Egypt. 
+* In the modern Fayyum, west of the Nile. 
+
+
+279 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ναυτίλλονται, ἐστὶ Αἰγυπτίοισι ἐπίκτητός τε γῆ 
+καὶ δῶρον τοῦ ποταμοῦ, καὶ τὰ κατύπερθε ἔ ἔτι τῆς 
+λίμνης ταύτης μέχρι τριῶν ἡμερέων πλόου, τῆς 
+πέρι ἐκεῖνοι οὐδὲν ἔτι τοιόνδε ἔλεγον, ἔ ἔστι δὲ ἕτερον 
+τοιόνδε. Αἰγύπτου γὰρ φύσις ἐστὶ τῆς χώρης 
+τοιήδε. πρῶτα μὲν προσπλέων ἔτι καὶ ἡμέρης 
+δρόμον ἀπέχων ἆ ἀπὸ γῆς, κατεὶς καταπειρητηρίην 
+πηλόν τε ἀνοίσεις καὶ ἐν ἕνδεκα ὀργυιῇσε. ἔσεαι. 
+τοῦτο μὲν ἐπὶ τοσοῦτο δηλοῖ πρόχυσιν τῆς γῆς 
+ἐοῦσαν. 
+
+6. Αὖτις δὲ αὐτῆς ἐστι Αἰγύπτου μῆκος τὸ 
+παρὰ θάλασσαν ἑξήκοντα σχοῖνοι, κατὰ ἡμεῖς 
+διαιρέομεν εἶναι Αἴγυπτον ἀπὸ τοῦ Πλινθινήτεω 
+κόλπου μέχρι Σερβωνίδος λίμνης, map’ ἣν τὸ 
+Κάσιον ὄρος τείνει" ταύτης ὧν ἄπο οἱ ἑξήκοντα 
+σχοῖνοι εἰσί. ὅσοι μὲν γὰρ γεωπεῖναι εἰσὶ ἀνθρώ- 
+πων, ὀργυιῇσι μεμετρήκασι τὴν χώρην, ὅσοι δὲ 
+ἧσσον γεωπεῖναι, σταδίοισι, οἳ δὲ πολλὴν ἔ ἔχουσι, 
+παρασάγγῃσι, οἳ δὲ ἄφθονον λίην, σχοίνοισι. 
+δύναται δὲ ὁ 0 παρασάγγης τριήκοντα στάδια, ὁ δὲ 
+es μέτρον ἐὸν Αἰγύπτιον, ἑξήκοντα στάδια. 
+
+. Οὕτω ἂν εἴησαν «Αἰγύπτου στάδιοι ἑξα- 
+κόσιοι καὶ τρισχίλιοι τὸ παρὰ θάλασσαν. ἐνθεῦ- 
+τεν μὲν. καὶ μέχρι Ηλίου πόλιος ἐς τὴν μεσόγαιαν 
+ἐστὶ εὐρέα Αἴγυπτος, ἐοῦσα πᾶσα ὑπτίη τε 
+καὶ gulpas? καὶ Ns. ἔστι δὲ ὁδὸς ἐς “Ἠλίου 
+πόλιν ἀπὸ θαλάσσης ἄ ἄνω ἰόντι παραπλησίη τὸ 
+μῆκος τῇ ἐξ ᾿Αθηνέων ὁδῷ τῇ ἀπὸ τῶν δυώδεκα 
+θεῶν τοῦ βωμοῦ φερούσῃ ἔ ἔς τε Πῖσαν καὶ ἐπὶ τὸν 
+νηὸν τοῦ Διὸς τοῦ Ὀλυμπίου. σμικρόν τι τὸ διά- 
+
+
+! All MSS. have ἄνυδρος, which is a strange epithet for the 
+Delta. Modern editors read ἔνυδρος or εὔυδρος. 
+
+
+280 
+
+
+παν 
+
+
+Eon 
+
+
+BOOK II. 5-7 
+
+
+by the Egyptians, given them by the river—not only 
+the lower country but even all the land to three days' 
+voyage above the aforesaid lake, which is of the same 
+nature as the other, though the priests added not 
+this to what they said. For this is the nature of the 
+land of Egypt: firstly, when you approach to it from 
+the sea and are yet a day's run from land, if you then 
+let down a sounding line you will bring up mud and 
+find a depth of eleven fathoms. This shows that the 
+deposit from the land reaches thus far. 
+
+6. Further, the length of the seacoast of Egypt 
+itself is sixty * schoeni,’! that is of Egypt as we judge 
+it to be, reaching from the Plinthinete gulf to the 
+Serbonian marsh, which is under the Casian mountain ; 
+between these there is this length of sixty schoeni. 
+Men that have scanty land measure by fathoms; 
+those that have more, by furlongs; those that have 
+much land,,by parasangs ; and those who have great 
+abundance of it, by schoeni. The parasang is of 
+thirty furlongs' length, and the schoenus, which is 
+an Egyptian measure, is of sixty. 
+
+7. By this reckoning then the seaboard of Egypt 
+will be three thousand and six hundred furlongs in 
+length. Inland from the sea as far as Heliopolis 
+Egypt is a wide land, all flat and watery and marshy. 
+From the sea up to Heliopolis it is a journey about 
+as long as the way from the altar of the twelve gods 
+at Athens to the temple of Olympian Zeus at Pisa. 
+If a reckoning be made there will be seen to be but 
+
+1 Literally ‘‘ ropes.” 
+281 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+φορον εὗροι τις ἂν λογιζόμενος τῶν ὁδῶν τουτέων 
+τὸ μὴ ἴσας μῆκος εἶναι, οὐ πλέον πεντεκαίδεκα 
+σταδίων: ἡ μὲν γὰρ ἐς Hicay ἐξ ᾿Αθηνέων κατα- 
+δεῖ πεντεκαίδεκα σταδίων μὴ εἶναι πεντακοσίων 
+καὶ χιλίων, ἡ δὲ ἐς 'Ἡλίου πόλιν ἀπὸ θαλάσσης 
+νο ἐς τὸν ἀριθμὸν τοῦτον. 
+
+. ᾿Απὸ δὲ Ἡλίου πόλιος ἄνω ἰόντι στεινή ἐστι 
+κ. τῇ μὲν γὰρ τῆς ᾿Αραβίης ἆ ὄρος παρα- 
+τέταται, φέρον | ἀπ᾽ ἄρκτου πρὸς μεσαμβρίην τε 
+καὶ νότον, αἰεὶ ἄνω τεῖνον ἐς τὴν ᾿Ερυθρὴν καλεο- 
+μένην θάλασσαν: ἐν τῷ αἱ λιθοτομίαι ἔ ἔνεισι αἱ 
+ἐς τὰς πυραμίδας κατατμηθεῖσαι τὰς ἐν Μέμφι. 
+ταύτῃ μὲν λῆγον ἀνακάμπτει ἐς τὰ εἴρηται τὸ 
+ὄρος: τῇ δὲ αὐτὸ ἑωυτοῦ ἐστι μακρότατον, ὡς ἐγὼ 
+ἐπυνθανόμην, δύο μηνῶν αὐτὸ εἶναι τῆς ὁδοῦ ἀπὸ 
+ἠοῦς πρὸς ἑσπέρην, τὰ δὲ πρὸς τὴν ἠῶ λιβανωτο- 
+φόρα αὐτοῦ τὰ τέρματα εἶναι. τοῦτο μέν νυν τὸ 
+ὄρος τοιοῦτο ἐστί, τὸ δὲ πρὸς Λιβύης τῆς Αἰγύπτου 
+ὄρος ἄλλο πέτρινον τείνει, ἐν τῷ αι ἱπυραμίδες ë ένεισε, 
+ψάμμῳ κατειλυμένον, κατὰ τὸν αὐτὸν τρόπον 
+καὶ τοῦ `A ραβίου τὰ πρὸς μεσαμβρίην φέροντα. 
+τὸ ὧν δὴ ἀπὸ Ηλίου πόλεος οὐκέτι πολλὸν χωρίον 
+ὡς εἶναι «Αἰγύπτου, ἀλλ, ὅσον τε ἡμερέων τεσ- 
+σέρων καὶ δέκα 3 ἀναπλόου ἐστὶ στεινὴ Αἴγυπτος, 
+ἐοῦσα τῶν ὀρέων τῶν εἰρημένων τὸ μεταξὺ πεδιὰς 
+μὲν γῆ, στάδιοι. δὲ μάλιστα ἐδόκεόν μοι εἶναι, 
+τῇ στεινότατον ἐστί, διηκοσίων οὐ πλέους ἐκ τοῦ 
+᾿Αραβίου ὅ ὄρεος ἐς τὸ Λιβυκὸν καλεόμενον. τὸ δ᾽ 
+ἐνθεῦτεν abris εὐρέα Αἴγυπτος ἐστί. πέφυκε μέν 
+νυν ἡ χώρη αὕτη οὕτω. 
+
+
+! The MSS. have τεσσέρων; but this is inconsistent with 
+ch. 9. The addition of καὶ δέκα makes the figures agree, 
+roughly. 
+
+
+282 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΙ. 7-8 
+
+
+a little difference of length, not more than fifteen 
+furlongs, between these two journeys ; for the journey 
+from Athens to Pisa is fifteen furlongs short of fifteen 
+hundred, which is the tale of furlongs between the 
+sea and Heliopolis. 
+
+8. Beyond and above Heliopolis Egypt is a nar- 
+row land. For it is bounded on the one side by the 
+mountains of Arabia, which bear from the north to 
+the south, ever stretching southward towards the 
+sea called the Red Sea. In these mountains are the 
+quarries that were hewn out for the making of the 
+pyramids at Memphis, This way then the mountains 
+turn, and end in the places of which I have spoken ; 
+their greatest breadth from east to west, as I learnt, 
+is a two months’ journey, and their easternmost 
+boundaries yield frankincense. Such are these moun- 
+tains. On the side of Libya Egypt is bounded by 
+another range of rocky mountains, wherein are the 
+pyramids ; this is all covered with sand, and it runs 
+in the same direction as those Arabian hills that 
+bear southward. Beyond Heliopolis there is no 
+great distance, that is, in Egypt;! the narrow 
+land has but a length of fourteen days’ journey up 
+the river. Between the mountain ranges aforesaid 
+the land is level, and where the plain is narrowest it 
+seemed to me that there were no more than two 
+hundred furlongs between the Arabian mountains 
+and those that are called Libyan. Beyond this 
+Egypt is a wide land again. Such is the nature of 
+this country. 
+
+
+1 ὡς εἶναι Αἰγύπτου ; so much of the Nile valley being out- 
+side Egypt. But it is possible that the words may mean ‘‘no 
+great distance, for Egypt,” i.e. no great distance relatively 
+to the size of the country. 
+
+
+283 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+9. ᾽Απὸ δὲ Ἡλίου πόλιος ἐς Θήβας ἐστὶ 
+ἀνάπλοος ἐννέα ἡμερέων, στάδιοι δὲ τῆς ὁδοῦ 
+ἑξήκοντα καὶ ὀκτακόσιοι καὶ τετρακισχίλιοι, 
+σχοίνων ἑνὸς καὶ ὀγδώκοντα ἐόντων. οὗτοι συντι- 
+θέμενοι οἱ στάδιοι Αἰγύπτου τὸ μὲν παρὰ θάλασ- 
+σαν ἤδη μοι καὶ πρότερον δεδήλωται ὅτι ἑξα- 
+κοσίων τε ἐστὶ σταδίων καὶ τρισχιλίων, ὅσον 
+δέ τι ἀπὸ θαλάσσης ἐς μεσόγαιαν μέχρι Θηβέων 
+ἐστί, σημανέω' στάδιοι γὰρ εἰσὶ εἴκοσι καὶ ἑκατὸν 
+καὶ ἑξακισχίλιοι. τὸ δὲ ἀπὸ Θηβέων ἐς Ἔλε- 
+φαντίνην καλεομένην πόλιν στάδιοι χίλιοι καὶ 
+ὀκτακόσιοι εἰσί. 
+
+10. Ταύτης ὧν τῆς χώρης τῆς εἰρημένης ἡ TON- 
+λή, κατά περ οἱ ἱρέες ἔλεγον, ἐδόκεε καὶ αὐτῷ μοι 
+εἶναι ἐπίκτητος Αἰγυπτίοισι. τῶν γὰρ ὀρέων 
+τῶν εἰρημένων τῶν ὑπὲρ Μέμφιν πόλιν κειμένων 
+τὸ μεταξὺ ἐφαίνετό μοι εἶναι κοτὲ κόλπος θαλάσ- 
+σης, ὥσπερ γε τὰ περὶ Ἴλιον καὶ "Τευθρανίην καὶ 
+
+
+"Ἔφεσόν τε καὶ Μαιάνδρου πεδίον, ὥς γε εἶναι 
+
+
+σμικρὰ ταῦτα μεγάλοισι συμβαλεῖν: τῶν γὰρ 
+ταῦτα τὰ χωρία προσχωσάντων ποταμῶν ἑνὶ τῶν 
+στομάτων τοῦ Νείλου, ἐόντος πενταστόμου, οὐ- 
+δεὶς αὐτῶν πλήθεος πέρι ἄξιος συμβληθῆναι 
+ἐστί. εἰσὶ δὲ καὶ ἄλλοι ποταμοί, οὐ κατὰ τὸν 
+Νεῖλον ἐόντες μεγάθεα, οἵτινες ἔργα ἀποδεξά- 
+μενοι μεγάλα εἰσί τῶν ἐγὼ φράσαι ἔχω οὐνό- 
+para καὶ ἄλλων καὶ οὐκ ἥκιστα ᾿Αχελῴου,. ὃς 
+ῥέων δι ᾿Ακαρνανίης καὶ ἐξιεὶς ἐς θάλασσαν τῶν 
+Ἐχινάδων νήσων τὰς ἡμισέας ἤδη ἤπειρον re- 
+ποίηκε. 
+
+11. Ἔστι δὲ τῆς ᾿Αραβίης χώρης, Αἰγύπτου 
+δὲ οὐ πρόσω, κόλπος θαλάσσης ἐσέχων ἐκ τῆς 
+284 ` 
+
+
+BOOK Il. g—11 
+
+
+9. From Heliopolis to Thebes it is nine days' jour- 
+ney by river, and the distance is four thousand eight 
+hundred and sixty furlongs, or eighty-one schoeni. 
+This then is a full statement of all the furlongs in 
+Egypt: the seaboard is three thousand six hundred 
+furlongs long; and I will now declare the distance 
+inland from the seato Thebes: it is six thousand one 
+hundred and twenty furlongs. And between Thebes 
+and the city called Elephantine there are eighteen 
+hundred furlongs. 
+
+10. The greater portion, then, of this country 
+whereof I have spoken was (as the priests told me, and 
+Imyself formed the same judgment) land acquired 
+by the Egyptians ; all that lies between the ranges of 
+mountains above Memphis to which I have referred 
+seemed to me to have been once a gulf of the sea, just 
+as the country about Ilion and Teuthrania and Ephesus 
+and the plain of the Maeander, to compare these small 
+things with great. For of the rivers that brought 
+down the stuff to make these lands there is none 
+worthy to be compared for greatness with one of the 
+mouths of the Nile; and the Nile has five mouths. 
+There are also other rivers, not so great as the 
+Nile, that have wrought great effects;. I could 
+declare their names, but chief among them is 
+Achelous, which, flowing through Acarnania and 
+issuing into the sea, has already made half of the 
+Echinades islands to be mainland. | 
+
+11. Now in Arabia, not far from Egypt, there is a 
+gulf of the sea entering in from the sea called Red,1 
+
+
+1 The ** sea called Red," it will be remembered, is the sea 
+south and east of Arabia: the gulf entering in from it is our 
+Red Sea. Suppose the Delta to have been once & gulf too, 
+then there would have been two gulfs, both runniug up into 
+Egypt, their heads not far from each other. 
+
+| 289 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Ἐρυθρῆς καλεομένης θαλάσσης, μακρὸς οὕτω δή 
+πι καὶ στεινὸς ὡς ἔρχομαι φράσων: μῆκος μὲν 
+πλόου ἀρξαμένῳ ἐκ μυχοῦ διεκπλῶσαι ἐς τὴν 
+εὐρέαν θάλασσαν ἡμέραι ἀναισιμοῦνται τεσσερά- 
+κοντα εἱρεσίῃ χρεωμένῳ' εὖρος δέ, τῇ εὐρύτατος 
+ἐστὶ ὁ κόλπος, ἥμισυ ἡμέρης πλόου. pnyin 9 
+ἐν αὐτῷ καὶ ἄμπωτις ἀνὰ πᾶσαν ἡμέρην γίνεται. 
+ἕτερον τοιοῦτον κόλπον καὶ τὴν Αἴγυπτον δοκέω 
+γενέσθαι κοτέ, τὸν μὲν ἐκ τῆς βορηίης θαλάσσης 
+κόλπον ἐσέχοντα ἐπ᾽ Αἰθιοπίης, τὸν δὲ ᾿Αράβιον, 
+τὸν ἔρχομαι λέξων, ἐκ τῆς νοτίης φέροντα ἐπὶ 
+Συρίης, σχεδὸν μὲν ἀλλήλοισι συντετραίνοντας 
+τοὺς μυχούς, ὀλίγον δέ τι παραλλάσσοντας τῆς 
+χώρης. εἰ ὧν ἐθελήσει ἐκτρέψαι τὸ ῥέεθρον ὁ 
+Νεῖλος ἐς τοῦτον τὸν ᾿Αράβιον κόλπον, τί μιν 
+κωλύει ῥέοντος τούτου ἐκχωσθῆναι ἐντός γε δισ- 
+μυρίων ἐτέων; ἐγὼ μὲν yàp ἐλπομαί γε καὶ 
+µυρίων ἐντὸς ωσθῆναι ἄν: κοῦ γε δὴ ἐν τῷ 
+προαναισιμωμένῳ χρόνῳ πρότερον ἢ ἐμὲ γενέσθαι 
+οὐκ ἂν χωσθείη κόλπος καὶ πολλῷ μέξων ἔτι 
+τούτου ὑπὸ τοσούτου T€ ποταμοῦ καὶ οὕτω 
+ἐργατικοῦ; 
+
+19. Τὰ περὶ Αἴγυπτον ὧν καὶ τοῖσι λέγουσι 
+αὐτὰ πείθομαι καὶ αὐτὸς οὕτω κάρτα δοκέω εἶναι, 
+ἰδών τε τὴν Αἴγυπτον προκειμένην τῆς ἐχομένης 
+γῆς κογχύλιά τε φαινόμενα ἐπὶ τοῖσι ὄρεσι καὶ 
+ἄλμην ἐπανθέουσαν, ὥστε καὶ τὰς πυραμίδας 
+δηλέεσθαι, καὶ ψάμμον μοῦνον Αἰγύπτου ὄρος 
+τοῦτο τὸ ὑπὲρ Μέμφιος ἔχον, πρὸς δὲ τῇ χώρῃ 
+οὔτε τῇ ᾿Αραβίῃ προσούρῳ ἐούσῃ τὴν Αἴγυπτον 
+προσεικέλην οὔτε τῇ Λιβύῃ, οὐ μὲν οὐδὲ τῇ 
+Συρίῃ (τῆς γὰρ ᾿Αραβίης τὰ παρὰ θάλασσαν 
+
+pin (τῆς γὰρ ᾿Αραβίη ρ 
+296 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΙ. 11-12 
+
+
+of which the length and narrowness is such as I shall 
+show : for length, it is a forty days’ voyage for a 
+ship rowed by oars from its inner end out to the wide 
+sea ; and for breadth, it is half a day's voyage at the 
+widest. Every day the tide ebbs and flows therein. 
+I hold that where now is Egypt there was once 
+another such gulf; one entered from the northern sea 
+towards Aethiopia,and the other, the Arabian gulf 
+of which I will speak, bore from the south towards 
+Syria; the ends of these gulfs pierced into the 
+country near to each other, and but a little space of 
+land divided them. Now if the Nile choose to turn 
+his waters into this Arabian gulf, what hinders that 
+it be not silted up by his stream in twenty thousand 
+years? nay, I think that ten thousand would suffice 
+for it. Is it then to be believed that in the ages 
+before my birth a gulf even much greater than this 
+‘could not be silted up by a river so great and so 
+busy ? 
+
+12. Therefore, as to Egypt, I believe those who so 
+speak, and I am myself fully so persuaded ; for I 
+have seen that Egypt projects into the sea beyond 
+the neighbouring land, and shells are plain to view 
+on the mountains and things are coated with salt 
+(insomuch that the very pyramids are wasted 
+thereby), and the only sandy mountain in Egypt is 
+that which is above Memphis; moreover, Egypt is 
+like neither to the neighbouring land of Arabia, nor 
+to Libya, no, nor to Syria (for the seaboard of Arabia 
+
+
+287 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Σύροι νέμονται), ἀλλὰ μελάγγαιόν τε καὶ κα- 
+ταρρηγνυμένην, ὥστε ἐοῦσαν Av τε καὶ πρό- 
+χυσιν ἐξ Αἰθιοπίης κατενηνειγμένην ὑπὸ τοῦ 
+ποταμοῦ. τὴν δὲ Λιβύην ἴδμεν ἐρυθροτέρην τε 
+γῆν καὶ ὑποψαμμοτέρην, τὴν δὲ ᾿Αραβίην τε καὶ 
+Συρίην ἀργιλωδεστέρην τε καὶ ὑπόπετρον ἐοῦσαν. 
+
+18. Ἔλεγον δὲ καὶ τόδε μοι μέγα τεκμήριον 
+περὶ τῆς χώρης ταύτης οἱ ἱρέες, ὡς ἐπὶ Μοίριος 
+βασιλέος, ὅκως ἔλθοι ὁ ποταμὸς ἐπὶ ὀκτὼ πήχεας 
+τὸ ἐλάχιστον, ἄρδεσκε Αἴγυπτον τὴν ἔνερθε 
+Μέμφιος" καὶ Μοίρι οὔκω ἣν ἔτεα εἰνακόσια 
+τετελευτηκότι ὅτε τῶν ἱρέων ταῦτα ἐγὼ ἤκουον. 
+νῦν δὲ εἰ μὴ ἐπ᾽ ἑκκαίδεκα ἢ πεντεκαίδεκα πήχεας 
+ἀναβῇ τὸ ἐλάχιστον ὁ ποταμός, οὐκ ὑπερβαίνει 
+ἐς τὴν χώρην. δοκέουσί τέ μοι Αἰγυπτίων οἱ 
+ἔνερθε λίμνης τῆς Μοίριος οἰκέοντες τά τε ἄλλα 
+χωρία καὶ τὸ καλεόμενον Δέλτα, ἣν οὕτω ἡ χώρη 
+αὕτη κατὰ λόγον ἐπιδιδῷ ἐς ὕψος καὶ τὸ ὅμοιον 
+ἀποδιδῷ ἐς αὔξησιν] μὴ κατακλύζοντος αὐτὴν 
+τοῦ Νείλου πείσεσθαι τὸν πάντα χρόνον τὸν 
+ἐπίλοιπον Αἰγύπτιοι τὸ κοτὲ αὐτοὶ “Ελληνας 
+ἔφασαν πείσεσθαι. πυθόμενοι γὰρ ὡς ὕεται 
+πᾶσα ἡ χώρη τῶν Ἑλλήνων ἀλλ οὐ ποταμοῖσι 
+ἄρδεται κατά περ ἡ σφετέρη, ἔφασαν "Ελληνας 
+ψευσθέντας κοτὲ ἐλπίδος μεγάλης κακῶς πεινή- 
+σειν. τὸ δὲ ἔπος τοῦτο ἐθέλει λέγειν ὡς, εἰ μὴ 
+ἐθελήσει σφι ὕειν ὁ θεὸς ἀλλὰ αὐχμῷ διαχρᾶ- 
+σθαι, λιμῷ οἱ Ἕλληνες αἱρεθήσονται' οὗ γὰρ δή 
+σφι ἐστὶ ὕδατος οὐδεμία ἄλλη ἀποστροφὴ ὅτι μὴ 
+ἐκ τοῦ Διὸς μοῦνον. 
+
+
+1 Stein brackets καὶ .. . αὔξνσιν. 
+288 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΙ. 12-13 
+
+
+is inhabited by Syrians); it is a land of black and 
+crumbling earth, as if it were alluvial deposit carried. 
+down the river from Aethiopia; but we know that 
+the soil of Libya is redder and somewhat sandy, and 
+Arabia and Syria are lands rather of clay and stones. 
+
+13. This too that the priests told me concerning 
+Egypt is a strong proof; when Moeris was king, if 
+the river rose as much as eight cubits, it watered all 
+Egypt below Memphis.! Moeris was not yet nine 
+hundred years dead when I heard this from the 
+priests. But now, if the river rise not at the 
+least to sixteen or fifteen cubits, the land is not 
+flooded. And, to my thinking, the Egyptians who 
+dwell lower down the river than the lake Moeris, 
+and chiefly those who inhabit what is called the 
+Delta— these, if thus this land of theirs rises in such 
+proportion and likewise increases in extent, will (the 
+Nile no longer flooding it) be ever after in the same 
+plight which they themselves once said would be 
+the case of the Greeks; for learning that all the 
+Greek land is watered by rain, and not, like theirs, 
+by river, they said that some day the Greeks would 
+be disappointed of their high hopes, and miserably 
+starve : signifying thereby that should it be heaven's 
+will to send the Greeks no rain and afflict them with 
+drought, famine must come upon them, as receiving 
+all this water from Zeus and having no other resource. 
+
+
+1 Supposing this statement to be true, Moeris must have 
+been king much more than 900 years before Hdt.: 900 years 
+being much too short a period for a rise of eight cubits in 
+the height of the Nile valley. 
+
+289 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+14. Kai ταῦτα μὲν ἐς "Ἕλληνας Αἰγυπτίοισι 
+ὀρθῶς ἔχοντα εἴρηται' φέρε δὲ νῦν καὶ αὐτοῖσι 
+Αἰγυπτίοισι ὡς ἔχει φράσω" εἴ σφι θέλοι, ὡς καὶ 
+πρότερον εἶπον, ἡ χώρη ἡ ἔνερθε Μέμφιος (αὕτη 
+γὰρ ἐστὶ ἡ αὐξανομένη) κατὰ λόγον τοῦ παροιχο- 
+μένου χρόνου ἐς ὕψος αὐξάνεσθαι, ἄλλο τι ἢ οἱ 
+ταύτῃ οἰκέοντες Αἰγυπτίων πεινήσουσι; εἰ μήτε 
+ye ὕσεταί σφι ἡ χώρη μήτε ὁ ποταμὸς οἷός T 
+ἔσται ἐς τὰς ἀρούρας ὑπερβαίνειν. ἢ yap δὴ νῦν 
+γε οὗτοι ἀπονητότατα καρπὸν κομίζονται ἐκ γῆς 
+τῶν τε ἄλλων ἀνθρώπων πάντων καὶ τῶν λοιπῶν 
+Αἰγυπτίων: of οὔτε ἀρότρῳ ἀναρρηγνύντες aŭ- 
+λακας ἔχουσι πόνους οὔτε σκάλλοντες οὔτε ἄλλο 
+ἐργαζόμενοι οὐδὲν τῶν οἱ ἄλλοι ἄνθρωποι περὶ 
+λήιον πονέουσι, GAN ἐπεάν σφι ὁ ποταμὸς αὐτό- 
+ματος ἐπελθὼν ἄρσῃ τὰς ἀρούρας, ἄρσας δὲ 
+ἀπολίπῃ ὀπίσω, τότε σπείρας ἕκαστος τὴν ἑωυτοῦ 
+ἄρουραν ἐσβάλλει ἐς αὐτὴν ὗς, ἐπεὰν δὲ κατα- 
+πατήσῃ τῆσι ὑσὶ τὸ σπέρμα, ἄμητον τὸ ἀπὸ 
+τούτου μένει, ἀποδινήσας δὲ τῇσι ὑσὶ τὸν σῖτον 
+οὕτω κομίζεται. 
+
+15. Εἰ ὧν βουλόμεθα γνώμῃσι τῇσι 'lovov 
+χρᾶσθαι τὰ περὶ Αἴγυπτον, οἳ φασὶ τὸ Δέλτα 
+μοῦνον εἶναι Αἴγυπτον, ἀπὸ Περσέος καλεομένης 
+σκοπιῆς λέγοντες τὸ παρὰ θάλασσαν εἶναι αὐτῆς 
+μέχρι ταριχηίων τῶν Πηλουσιακῶν, τῇ à» τεσ- 
+σεράκοντα εἰσὶ σχοῖνοι, τὸ δὲ ἀπὸ θαλάσσης 
+λεγόντων ἐς μεσόγαιαν τείνειν αὐτὴν μέχρι Kep- 
+κασώρου πόλιος, κατ᾽ ἣν σχίζεται ò Νεῖλος ἔς τε 
+Πηλούσιον ῥέων καὶ ἐς Κάνωβον, τὰ δὲ ἄλλα 
+λεγόντων τῆς Αἰγύπτου τὰ μὲν Λιβύης τὰ δὲ 
+᾿Αραβίης εἶναι, ἀποδεικνύοιμεν ἂν τούτῳ τῷ 
+
+
+290 
+
+
+BOOK Il, 14-15 
+
+
+14. And this saying of the Egyptians about the 
+Greeks was true enough. But now let me show what 
+is the case of the Egyptians themselves : if (as I have 
+already said) the country below Memphis—for it is 
+this which rises—should increase in height in the 
+same degree as formerly, will not the Egyptians who 
+dwell in it go hungry, there being no rain in their 
+country and the river being unable to inundate their 
+fields? Now, indeed, there are no men, neither in the 
+rest of Egypt, nor in the whole world, who gain from 
+the soil with so little labour; they have not the 
+toil of breaking up the land with the plough, nor of 
+hoeing, nor of any other work which other men do 
+to get them a crop; the river rises of itself, waters 
+the fields, and then sinks back again; thereupon 
+each man sows his field and sends swine into it to 
+tread down the seed, and waits for the harvest; 
+then he makes the swine to thresh his grain, and 
+so garners it. 
+
+15. Now if we agree with the opinion of the 
+Ionians, namely that nothing but the Delta is 
+Egypt, whereof the seaboard reaches, according to 
+them, from what is called the watchtower of Perseus, 
+forty schoeni to the salting factories of Pelusium, 
+while inland it stretches as far as the city of 
+Cercasorus,! where the Nile divides and flows thence 
+to Pelusium and Canobus (all the rest of Egypt 
+being, they say, partly Libya and partly Arabia): if 
+
+2 At the southern point of the Delta, where the two main 
+channels of the Nile divide, not far below Cairo. 
+
+29I 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+λόγῳ χρεώμενοι, Αἰγυπτίοισι οὔκ ἐοῦσαν πρό- 
+τερον χώρην. ἤδη γάρ σφι τό γε Δέλτα, ὡς 
+αὐτοὶ λέγουσι Αἰγύπτιοι καὶ ἐμοὶ δοκέει, ἐστὶ 
+κατάρρυτόν τε καὶ νεωστὶ ὡς λόγῳ εἰπεῖν 
+ἀναπεφηνός. εἰ τοίνυν σφι χώρη rye μηδεμία 
+ὑπῆρχε, τί περιεργάζοντο δοκέοντες πρῶτοι av- 
+θρώπων γεγονέναι; οὐδὲ ἔδει σφέας ἐς .διάπειραν 
+τῶν παιδίων i ἰέναι, τίνα γλῶσσαν πρώτην ἀπή- 
+σουσι. ἀλλ᾽ οὔτε Αἰγυπτίους δοκέω ἅμα τῷ 
+Δέλτα τῷ ὑπὸ Ἰώνων καλεομέν γενέσθαι αἰεί 
+τε εἶναι ἐξ οὗ ἀνθρώπων γένος ἐγένετο, προϊούσης 
+δὲ τῆς χώρης πολλοὺς μὲν τοὺς ὑπολειπομένους 
+αὐτῶν γενέσθαι πολλοὺς δὲ. τοὺς ὑποκαταβαί- 
+νοντας. τὸ Ò ὧν πάλαι αἱ Θῆβαι Αἴγυπτος 
+ἐκαλέετο, τῆς τὸ περίμετρον στάδιοι εἰσὶ εἴκοσι 
+καὶ ἑκατὸν καὶ ἑξακισχίλιοι. 
+
+16. Ei à ὧν ἡμεῖς ὀρθῶς περὶ αὐτῶν Ὑινώσκομεν, 
+Ἴωνες οὐκ εὖ φρονέουσι περὶ Αἰγύπτου" εἰ δὲ 
+ὀρθή ἐστι ἡ γνώμη τῶν Ἰώνων, ' Ἑλληνάς τε καὶ 
+αὐτοὺς Ἴωνας ἀποδείκνυμι οὐκ ἐπισταμένους 
+λογίξεσθαι, οἳ φασὶ τρία μόρια εἶναι γῆν πᾶσαν, 
+Εὐρώπην τε καὶ ᾿Ασίην καὶ Λιβύην. τέταρτον 
+γὰρ δή σφεας δεῖ προσλογίζεσθαι Αἰγύπτου τὸ 
+Δέλτα, εἰ μήτε qe ἐστὶ τῆς ᾿Ασίης μήτε τῆς 
+Λιβύης». ov yap δὴ ὁ ὁ Νεῖλός γε ἐστὶ κατὰ τοῦτον 
+τὸν λόγον ὁ τὴν ᾿Ασίην οὐρίξων τῇ Λιβύῃ, τοῦ 
+Δέλτα δὲ τούτου κατὰ τὸ ὀξὺ περιρρήγνυται ὁ 
+Νεῖλος, ὥστε ἐν τῷ μεταξὺ ᾿Ασίης τε καὶ Λιβύης 
+γίνοιτ᾽ ἄν. 
+
+17. Καὶ τὴν μὲν Ἰώνων γνώμην ἀπίεμεν, ἡμεῖς 
+δὲ ὧδε καὶ περὶ τούτων λέγομεν, Αἴγυπτον μὲν 
+πᾶσαν εἶναι ταύτην τὴν ὑπ᾽ Αἰγυπτίων οἰκεομέ- 
+
+
+292 
+
+
+BOOK IL 15-17 
+
+
+we follow this account, we can show that there was 
+once no country for the Egyptians ; for we have seen 
+that (as the Egyptians themselves say, and as I 
+myself judge) the Delta is alluvial land and but 
+lately (so to say) come into being. Then if there 
+was once no country for them, it was but a useless 
+thought that they were the oldest nation on earth, 
+and they needed not to make that trial to see what 
+language the children would first utter. 1 hold 
+rather that the Egyptians did not come into being 
+with the making of that which Ionians call the 
+Delta : they ever existed since men were first made ; 
+and as the land grew in extent many of them spread 
+down over it, and many stayed behind. Be that as 
+it may, the Theban province, a land of six thousand 
+one hundred and twenty furlongs in circuit, was of. 
+old called Egypt. 
+
+16. If then our judgment of this be right, the 
+Ionians are in error concerning Egypt; but if their 
+opinion be right, then it is plain that they and the 
+rest of the Greeks cannot reckon truly, when they 
+divide the whole earth into three parts, Europe, 
+Asia, and Libya; they must add to these yet a 
+fourth part, the Delta of Egypt, if it belong neither 
+to Asia nor to Libya; for by their showing the Nile 
+is not the river that separates Asia and Libya; the 
+Nile divides at the extreme angle of this Delta, so 
+that this land must be between Asia and Libya. 
+
+17. Nay, we put the Ionians' opinion aside ; and 
+our own judgment concerning the matter is this: 
+Egypt is all that country which is inhabited by 
+
+
+293 
+
+
+re 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+νην κατά περ Κιλικίην τὴν ὑπὸ Κιλίκων καὶ 
+
+
+᾿Ασσυρίην τὴν ὑπὸ ᾿Ασσυρίων, οὔρισμα δὲ ᾿Ασίῃ 
+
+
+καὶ Λιβύη οἴδαμεν οὐδὲν ἐὸν ὀρθῷ λόγῳ εἰ μὴ 
+τοὺς Αἰγυπτίων οὔρους. εἰ δὲ τῷ ὑπ᾽ Ελλήνων 
+νενομισμένῳ χρησόμεθα, νομιοῦμεν Αἴγυπτον 
+πᾶσαν ἀρξαμένην ἀπὸ Καταδούπων τε καὶ 'EXe- 
+φαντίνης πόλιος δίχα διαιρέεσθαι καὶ ἀμφοτερέων 
+τῶν ἐπωνυμιέων ἔχεσθαι' τὰ μὲν γὰρ αὐτῆς εἶναι 
+τῆς Λιβύης τὰ δὲ τῆς ᾿Ασίης. ὁ yap δὴ Νεῖλος 
+ἀρξάμενος ἐκ τῶν Καταδούπων ῥέει μέσην Αἴγυ- 
+πτον σχίζων ἐς θάλασσαν. μέχρι μέν νυν ἵζερκα- 
+σώρου πόλιος ῥέει εἷς ἐὼν ὁ Νεῖλος, τὸ δὲ ἀπὸ 
+ταύτης τῆς πόλιος σχίζεται τριφασίας ὁδούς. καὶ 
+i) μὲν πρὸς ἠῶ τράπεται, τὸ καλέεται Πηλούσιον 
+στόμα, ἡ δὲ ἑτέρη τῶν ὁδῶν πρὸς ἑσπέρην ἔχει" 
+τοῦτο δὲ Κανωβικὸν στόμα κέκληται. ἡ δὲ δὴ 
+ἰθέα τῶν ὁδῶν τῷ Νείλῳ ἐστὶ ἥδε’ ἄνωθεν pepo- 
+μενος ἐς τὸ ὀξὺ τοῦ Δέλτα, ἀπικνέεται, τὸ δὲ ἀπὸ 
+τούτου σχίζων μέσον τὸ Δέλτα ἐς θάλασσαν ἐξιεῖ, 
+οὔτε ἐλαχίστην μοῖραν τοῦ ὕδατος παρεχόμενος 
+ταύτην οὔτε ἥκιστα ὀνομαστήν' τὸ καλέεται 
+Σεβεννυτικὸν στόμα. ἔστι δὲ καὶ ἕτερα διφάσια 
+στόματα ἀπὸ τοῦ Σεβεννυτικοῦ ἀποσχισθέντα, 
+φέροντα ἐς θάλασσαν: τοῖσι οὐνόματα κέεται 
+τάδε, τῷ μὲν Σαϊτικὸν αὐτῶν τῷ δὲ Μενδήσιον. 
+τὸ δὲ Ῥολβίτινον στόμα καὶ τὸ Βουκολικὸν οὐκ 
+ἐθαγενέα στόματα ἐστὶ ἀλλ᾽ ὀρυκτά. 
+
+18. Μαρτυρέει δέ µοι τῇ γνώμῃ, ὅτι τοσαύτη 
+ἐστὶ Αἴγυπτος ὅσην τινὰ ἐγὼ ἀποδείκνυμι τῷ 
+
+
+` λόγῳ, καὶ τὸ Αμμωνος χρηστήριον γενόμενον" τὸ 
+
+
+ἐγὼ τῆς ἐμεωυτοῦ γνώμης ὕστερον περὶ Αἴγυ- 
+πτον ἐπυθόμην. οἱ γὰρ δὴ ἐκ Μαρέης τε πόλιος 
+
+
+294 
+
+
+. BOOK II. 17-18 
+
+
+Egyptians, even as Cilicia and Assyria are the 
+countries inhabited by Cilicians and Assyrians 
+severally; and we know of no frontier (rightly so 
+called) below Asia and Libya save only the borders 
+of the Egyptians. But if we follow the belief of the 
+Greeks, we shall consider all Egypt, down from the 
+Cataracts and the city Elephantine,! to be divided 
+into two parts, and to claim both the names, the one 
+part belonging to Libya and the other to Asia. For 
+the Nile, beginning from the Cataracts, divides Egypt 
+into two parts as it flows to the sea. Now as far as 
+the city Cercasorus the Nile flows in one channel, 
+but after that it parts into three. One of these, 
+which is called the Pelusian mouth, flows eastwards ; 
+the second flows westwards, and is called the 
+Canobic mouth. But the direct channel of the Nile, 
+when the river in its downward course reaches the 
+sharp point of the Delta, flows thereafter clean 
+through the middle of the Delta into the sea ; in 
+this is seen the greatest and most famous part of its 
+waters, and it is called the Sebennytic mouth. 
+There are also two channels which separate them- 
+selves from the Sebennytic and so flow into the sea, 
+by name the Saitic and the Mendesian, The Bolbi- 
+tine and Bucolie mouths are not natural but dug 
+channels. 
+
+18. My opinion, that the extent of Egypt is such 
+as my argument shows, is attested by the answer 
+which (my judgment being already formed) I heard 
+to have been given concerning Egypt by the oracle 
+of Ammon. The men of the cities of Marea and 
+
+
+2 On the island opposite Syene (Assuan). 
+
+
+hi 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+. v > + > 7 ; 
+καὶ “Aros, οἰκέοντες Αἰγύπτου τὰ πρόσουρα 
+Λιβύῃ, αὐτοί τε δοκέοντες εἶναι Λίβυες καὶ οὐκ 
+Αἰγύπτιοι καὶ ἀχθόμενοι τῇ περὶ τὰ ἱρὰ θρη- 
+ognin, βουλόμενοι θηλέων ᾿Βοῶν μὴ ἔργεσθαι, 
+ἔπεμψαν ἐς Άμμωνα φάμενοι, οὐδὲν σφίσι τε καὶ 
+Αἰγυπτίοισι κοινὸν εἶναι" οἰκέειν τε γὰρ ἔξω τοῦ 
+Δέλτα καὶ οὐδὲν ὁμολογέειν αὐτοῖσι, βούλεσθαί 
+τε πάντων σφίσι ἐξεῖναι γεύεσθαι. ὁ δὲ θεός 
+σφεας οὐκ ἔα ποιέειν ταῦτα, φὰς Αἴγυπτον εἶναι 
+ταύτην τὴν ὁ Νεῖλος ἐ ἐπιὼν ἄρδει, καὶ Αἰγυπτίους 
+εἶναι τούτους οἳ ἔνερθε ᾿Ελεφαντίνης πόλιος oi- 
+κέοντες ἀπὸ τοῦ ποταμοῦ τούτου πίνουσι. οὕτω 
+σφι ταῦτα ἐχρήσθη. 
+
+19, ᾿Ἐπέρχεται δὲ ὁ Νεῖλος, ἐπεὰν πληθύῃ, 
+οὐ μοῦνον τὸ Δέλτα ἀλλὰ καὶ τοῦ Λιθυκοῦ τε 
+λεγομένου χωρίου εἶναι καὶ τοῦ ᾿Αραβίου ἐνιαχῇ 
+καὶ ἐπὶ»δύο ἡμερέων ἑκατέρωθι ὁδόν, καὶ πλέον 
+ἔτι τούτου καὶ ἔλασσον. τοῦ ποταμοῦ δὲ 
+φύσιος πέρι οὔτε τι τῶν ἱρέων οὔτε ἄλλου 
+οὐδενὸς παραλαβεῖν ἐδυνάσθην. πρόθυμος δὲ ἔα 
+τάδε παρ αὐτῶν πµθέσθαι, ὅ τι κατέρχεται 
+μὲν ὁ Νεῖλος πληθύων ἀπὸ τροπέων τῶν θερι- 
+νέων ἀρξάμενος ἐπὶ ἑκατὸν ἡμέρας, πελάσας δὲ 
+ἐς τὸν ἀριθμὸν τουτέων τῶν ἡμερέων ὀπίσω 
+ἀπέρχεται ἀπολείπων τὸ ῥέεθρον, ὥστε βραχὺς 
+τὸν χειμῶνα ἅπαντα διατελέει é ἐὼν ν μέχρι οὗ αὖτις 
+τροπέων τῶν θερινέων. τούτων ὧν πέρι οὐδενὸς 
+οὐδὲν οἷός τε ἐγενόμην παραλαβεῖν παρὰ τῶν 
+Αἰγυπτίων, ἱ ἱστορέων αὐτοὺς ἥντινα δύναμιν ἔ ἔχει 
+o Νεῖλος τὰ ἔμπαλιν πεφυκέναι τῶν ἄλλων ποτα- 
+μῶν" ταῦτά τε δὴ, τὰ λελεγμένα βουλόμενος 
+εἰδέναι ἑ ἱστόρεον καὶ ὅ τέ αὔρας ἀποπνεούσας μοῦ- 
+νος ποταμῶν πάντων οὗ παρέχεται. 
+
+296 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΙ. 18-19 
+
+
+Apis, in the part. of Egypt bordering on Libya, 
+thinking themselves to be not Egyptians but Libyans, 
+and misliking the observance of the religious law 
+which forbade them to eat cows' flesh, sent to 
+Ammon saying that they had no part or lot with 
+Egypt: for they dwelt (said they) outside the Delta 
+and did not consent to the ways of its people, and 
+they wished to be suffered to eat of all foods. But 
+the god forbade them : all the land, he said, watered 
+by the Nile in its course was Egypt, and all who 
+dwelt lower down than the city Elephantine and 
+drank of that river's water were Egyptians. Such 
+was the oracle given to them. 
+
+19. When the Nile is in flood, it overflows not 
+only the Delta but also the lands called Libyan and 
+Arabian, in places as far as two days' journey from 
+either bank, and sometimes more than this, some- 
+times less. Concerning its nature, neither from the 
+priests nor from any others could I learn anything. 
+Yet I was zealous to hear from them why it is that 
+the Nile comes down with a rising flood for an 
+hundred days from the summer solstice, and when 
+this tale of days is complete sinks again with a 
+diminishing stream, so that the river is low for the 
+whole winter till the summer solstice again. Concern- 
+ing this matter none of the Egyptians could tell me 
+anything, when I asked them what power the Nile 
+has to be contrary in nature to all other rivers. Of the 
+matters aforesaid I wished to know, and asked ; also 
+why no airs blow from it as from every other stream.! 
+
+
+1 Not from the river itself, perhaps; but there is a regular 
+current of air blowing up the valley. 
+
+
+297 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+90. ᾿Αλλὰ Ἑλλήνων μὲν τινὲς ἐπίσημοι βουλό- 
+μενοι γενέσθαι σοφίην ἔλεξαν περὶ τοῦ ὕδατος 
+τούτου τριφασίας ὁδούς’ τῶν τὰς μὲν δύο τῶν 
+ὁδῶν οὐδ᾽ ἀξιῶ μνησθῆναι εὖ .μὴ ὅσον σημῆναι 
+βουλόμενος μοῦνον" τῶν νὴ ἑτέρη μὲν λέγει τοὺς 
+ἐτησίας ἀνέμους εἶναι αἰτίους πληθύειν τὸν ποτα- 
+μόν, κωλύοντας ἐς θάλασσαν ἐκρέειν τὸν Νεῖλον, 
+πολλάκις δὲ ἐτησίαι μὲν οὔκων ἔπνευσαν, ὁ δὲ 
+Νεῖλος τὠυτὸ ἐργάζεται. πρὸς δέ, εἰ ἐτησίαι. 
+αἴτιοι ἦσαν, χρῆν καὶ τοὺς ἄλλους ποταμούς, 
+ὅσοι τοῖσι ἐτησίῃσι ἀντίοι ῥέουσι, ὁμοίως πάσχειν 
+καὶ κατὰ τὰ αὐτὰ τῷ Νείλῳ, καὶ μᾶλλον ἔτι το- 
+σούτῳ ὅσῳ ἐλάσσονες ἐόντες ἀσθενέστερα τὰ 
+ῥεύματα παρέχονται. εἰσὶ δὲ πολλοὶ μὲν ἐν τῇ 
+Συρίῃ ποταμοὶ πολλοὶ δὲ ἐν τῇ Λιβύῃ, οἳ οὐδὲν 
+τοιοῦτο πάσχουσι οἷόν τι καὶ ὁ Νεῖλος. 
+
+91, Ἡ δ᾽ ἑτέρη. ἀνεπιστημονεστέρη μὲν ἐστὶ 
+τῆς λελεγμένης, λόγῳ δὲ εὐπεῖν θωμασιωτέρη: 3) 
+λέγει ἀπὸ τοῦ. Ὠκεανοῦ ῥέοντα. αὐτὸν ταῦτα 
+μηχανᾶσθαι, τὸν δὲ ᾿Ὠκεανὸν γῆν περὶ πᾶσαν 
+per 
+
+‘H δὲ τρίτη τῶν ὁδῶν πολλὸν ἐπιεικεστάτη 
+ἐοῦσα μάλιστα ἔψευσται' λέγει γὰρ δὴ οὐδ᾽ αὕτη 
+οὐδέν, φαμένη τὸν Νεῖλον ῥέειν ἀπὸ τηκομένης 
+χιόνος ὃς ῥέει. μὲν ἐκ Λιβύης διὰ μέσων Αἰθιό- 
+πων, ἐκδιδοῖ. δὲ ἐς Αἴγυπτον. κῶς ὧν. δῆτα ῥέοι 
+ἂν ἀπὸ χιόνος, ἀπὸ τῶν θερµοτάτων ῥέων ἐς τὰ 
+Ψυχρότερα τὰ πολλά ἐστι; ἀνδρί γε λογίξεσθαι 
+τοιούτων πέρι οἷῳ τε ἐόντι, ὡς οὐδὲ οἰκὸς ἀπὸ 
+χιόνος μιν ῥέειν, πρῶτον μὲν καὶ μέγιστον μαρ- 
+τύριον οἱ ἄνεμοι παρέχονται πνέοντες ἀπὸ τῶν 
+
+
+298 
+
+
+BOOK II. 20-22 
+
+
+20. But some of the Greeks, wishing to be notable 
+for cleverness, put forward three opinions about this 
+river; of which there are two that I would not even 
+
+
+. mention, save to show only what they are. One of 
+
+
+these will have it that the etesian winds! are the . 
+cause of tlie rivers being in flood, because they hinder 
+the Nile from flowing out into the sea. But there 
+are many times when the etesian winds do not blow, 
+yet the Nile does the same as before. And further, 
+if the etesian winds were the cause, then the other 
+
+
+rivers which flow contrary to those winds should be 
+
+
+affected in like manner even as is the Nile, and all 
+the more, inasmuch as being smaller they have a 
+weaker current. Yet there are many rivers in Syria 
+and in Libya, which are nowise in the same case as 
+the Nile. | 
+
+21. The second opinion is less grounded on know- 
+ledge than that afore-mentioned, though it is more 
+marvellous to the ear: by it, the river effects what it 
+does because it flows from the Ocean, which flows 
+round all the world. 
+
+22. The third opinion is the most plausible by far, 
+yet is of all the most in error. It has no more truth 
+in it than the others. According to this, the Nile 
+flows from where snows melt ; but it flows from Libya 
+through the midst of Ethiopia, and issues out into 
+Egypt; how then can it flow from snow, seeing that 
+it comes from the hottest places to lands that are for 
+the most part colder? nay, a man who can reason 
+about such matters will find his chief proof, that there 
+is no likelihood of the river's flowing from snow, 
+in this—that the winds blowing from Libya and 
+
+
+! The regular N.W. winds which blow in summer from 
+the Mediterranean. 
+
+
+VOL.I. M | 299 
+
+
+Fu 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+χωρέων τουτέων θερμοί" δεύτερον δὲ ὅτι ἄνομβρος 
+ἡ χώρη καὶ ἀκρύσταλλος διατελέει ἐοῦσα, ἐπὶ δὲ 
+χιόνι πεσούσῃ πᾶσα ἀνάγκη ἐστὶ ὗσαι ἐν πέντε 
+ἡμέρῃσι, ὥστε, εἰ ἐχιόνιξε, ὕετο ἂν ταῦτα τὰ 
+χωρία" τρίτα δὲ οἱ ἄνθρωποι ὑπὸ τοῦ καύματος 
+μέλανες ἐόντες. ἐκτῖνοι δὲ καὶ χελιδόνες δι ἔτεος 
+ἐόντες οὐκ ἀπολείπουσι, γέρανοι δὲ φεύγουσαι τὸν 
+χειμῶνα τὸν ἐν τῇ Σκυθικῇ χώρῃ γινόμενον φοι- 
+τῶσι ἐς χειμασίην ἐς τοὺς τόπους τούτους. εἰ 
+τοίνυν ἐχιόνιξε καὶ ὅσον ὧν ταύτην τῆν χώρην à 
+ἧς τε ῥέει καὶ ἐκ τῆς ἄρχεται ῥέων ὁ Νεῖλος, ἦν 
+ἂν τούτων οὐδέν, ὡς ἡ ἀνάγκη ἐλέγχει. 
+
+23. Ὁ δὲ περὶ τοῦ Ὠκεανοῦ λέξας ἐς ἀφανὲς τὸν 
+μῦθον ἀνενείκας οὐκ ἔχει ἔλεγχον' οὐ γὰρ τινὰ 
+ἔγωγε οἶδα ποταμὸν Ὠκεανὸν ἐόντα, "Όμηρον δὲ 
+ἢ τινὰ τῶν πρότερον γενομένων ποιητέων δοκέω 
+τὸ οὔνομα εὑρόντα ἐς ποίησιν ἐσενείκασθαι. 
+
+24. Ej δὲ δεῖ μεμψάμενον γνώμας τὰς προ- 
+κειμένας αὐτὸν περὶ τῶν ἀφανέων γνώμην ἀποδέ- 
+ξασθαι, φράσω δι ὅ τι μοι δοκέει πληθύνεσθαι ὁ 
+Νεῖλος τοῦ θέρεος: τὴν χειμερινὴν ὥρην àre- 
+λαυνόμενος ὁ ἥλιος ἐκ τῆς ἀρχαίης διεξόδου ὑπὸ 
+τῶν χειμώνων ἔρχεται τῆς Λιβύης τὰ ἄνω. ὡς 
+μέν νυν ἐν ἐλαχίστῳ δηλῶσαι, πᾶν εἴρηται" τῆς 
+γὰρ ἂν ἀγχοτάτω τε ᾖ χώρης οὗτος ὁ θεὸς καὶ 
+κατὰ ἥντινα, ταύτην οἰκὸς διψῆν τε ὑδάτων 
+μάλιστα καὶ τὰ ἐγχώρια ῥεύματα μαραίνεσθαι 
+τῶν ποταμῶν. 
+
+25. Ὡς δὲ ἐν πλέονι λόγῳ δηλῶσαι, ὧδε ἔχει. 
+διεξιὼν τῆς Λιβύης τὰ ἄνω ὁ ἥλιος τάδε soda 
+ἅτε διὰ παντὸς τοῦ χρόνου αἱθρίου τε éovros τοῦ 
+
+
+300 
+
+
+BOOK II. 22-25 
+
+
+Ethiopia are hot. And the second proof is, that the 
+country is ever without rain and frost ; but after snow 
+has fallen there must needs be rain within five days;! 
+so that were there snow there would be rain in these 
+lands. And the third proof is, that the men of the 
+country are black by reason of the heat. Moreover, 
+kites and swallows live there all the year round, and 
+cranes, flying from the wintry weather of Scythia, 
+come every year to these places to winter there. 
+Now, were there but the least fall of snow in this 
+country through which the Nile flows and whence it 
+rises, none of these things would happen, as neces- 
+sity proves. 
+
+23. The opinion about the Ocean is grounded in 
+obscurity and needs no disproof; for I know of no 
+river of Ocean ; and I suppose that Homer or some 
+older poet invented this name and brought it into 
+his poetry. 
+
+24. If, having condemned the opinions proposed, I 
+must now set forth what I myself think about these 
+obscure matters, I will show what I suppose to be 
+the cause of the Nile being in flood in the summer. 
+During the winter the sun is driven by the storms 
+from his customary course and passes over the inland 
+parts of Libya. Now to make the shortest conclusion, 
+that is all that need be said ; for to whatever country 
+this god is nearest, or over it, it is to be thought that 
+that land is the thirstiest and that the rivers in it are 
+diminished. 
+
+25. But stated at greater length, the truth is as I 
+shallshow. ΤΠ his passage over the inland parts of 
+Libya—the air being ever clear in that region, the 
+
+
+1 It does not seem to be known what authority there is for 
+this assertion. 
+
+
+301 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἠέρος ToU κατὰ ταῦτα τὰ χωρία καὶ ἀλεεινῆς τῆς 
+χώρης ἐούσης καὶ ἀνέμων ψυχρῶν, διεξιὼν ποιέει 
+οἷόν περ καὶ τὸ θέρος ἔωθε ποιέειν ἰὼν τὸ μέσον 
+τοῦ οὐρανοῦ: ἕλκει γὰρ ἐπὶ ἑωυτὸν τὸ ὕδωρ, 
+ἑλκύσας δὲ ἀπωθέει ἐ ἐς τὰ ἄνω χωρία, ὑπολαμβά- 
+νοντες δὲ οἱ ἄνεμοι καὶ διασκιδνάντες τήκουσι: 
+καὶ εἰσὶ οἰκότως οἱ ἀπὸ ταύτης τῆς χώρης 
+πνέοντες, ὅ τε νότος καὶ ὁ λίψ, ἀνέμων πολλὸν 
+τῶν πάντων ὑετιώτατοι. δοκέει δέ µοι οὐδὲ πᾶν 
+τὸ ὕδωρ τὸ ἐπέτειον ἑκάστοτε ἀποπέμπεσθαι τοῦ 
+Νείλου ὁ ἥλιος, ἀλλὰ καὶ ὑπολείπεσθαι περὶ 
+ἑωυτόν. πρηὐνομένου δὲ τοῦ χειμῶνος. ἀπέρχεται ὁ 
+ἥλιος ἐς μέσον | τὸν οὐρανὸν ὀπίσω, καὶ τὸ ἐνθεῦτεν 
+ἤδη ὁ ὁμοίως ἀπὸ πάντων ἕλκει τῶν ποταμῶν. τέως 
+δὲ οἳ μὲν ὀμβρίου ὕδατος συμμισγοµένου πολλοῦ 
+αὐτοῖσι, ἅτε ὑομένης τε τῆς χώρης καὶ κεχαρα- 
+δρωμένης, ῥέουσι μεγάλοι: τοῦ δὲ θέρεος τῶν τε 
+ὄμβρων ἐπιλειπόντων αὐτοὺς καὶ ὑπὸ τοῦ ἡλίου 
+ἑλκόμενοι ἀσθενέες εἰσί. ὁ δὲ Νεῖλος ἐὼν ἄνομ- 
+βρος, ἑλκόμενος δὲ ὑπὸ τοῦ ἡλίου μοῦνος πο- 
+ταμῶν τοῦτον τὸν χρόνον, οἰκότως αὐτὸς ἑωυτοῦ 
+ῥέει πολλῷ ὑποδεέστερος ἡ ἢ τοῦ .θέρεος" τότε μὲν 
+γὰρ μετὰ πάντων τῶν ὑδάτων ἴσον ἕλκεται, τὸν 
+δὲ χειμῶνα μοῦνος πιέζεται. 
+
+26. Οὕτω τὸν. ἥλιον νενόμικα τούτων αἴτιον 
+εἶναι. αἴτιος δὲ ὁ αὐτὸς οὗτος κατὰ γνώμην τὴν 
+ἐμὴν καὶ τὸν ἠέρα ξηρὸν τὸν ταύτῃ εἶναι, διακαίων 
+τὴν διέξοδον ἑωυτοῦ: οὕτω τῆς Λιβύης τὰ ἄνω 
+θέρος αἰεὶ «κατέχει. εἰ δὲ ἡ στάσις ἤλλακτο τῶν 
+ὡρέων, καὶ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ τῇ μὲν νῦν ὁ Βορέης τε 
+καὶ ὁ χειμὼν . ἑστᾶσι, ταύτῃ μὲν τοῦ νότου ἣν 3 
+στάσις καὶ τῆς μεσαμβρίης, τῇ δὲ ὁ νότος νῦν 
+
+
+302 
+
+
+BOOK Il. 25-26 
+
+
+land warm and the winds cool—the sun does what he 
+was wont to do in the summer in passing through 
+the middle of the heaven: he draws the water to 
+himself, and having so drawn it, expels it away to 
+the inland regions, and the winds catch it and scatter 
+and dissolve it; and, as is to be supposed, those that 
+blow from that country, the south and the south-west, 
+are the most rainy of all winds. Yet I think that the 
+sun never lets go all the water that he yearly draws 
+up from the Nile, but keeps some back near to 
+himself. Then as the winter becomes milder, the 
+sun returns back to the middle of the heaven, and 
+after that he draws from allrivers alike. Meantime 
+the other rivers are swollen to high flood by the 
+much water from the sky that falls into them, 
+because the country is rained upon and cut into 
+gullies; but in the summertbey are low, lacking the 
+rain and being drawn up too by the sun. But the 
+Nile being fed by no rain, and being the only river 
+in winter drawn up by the sun, at this time falls far 
+short of the height that he had in summer; which 
+is but natural; for in summer all other waters too 
+and not his alone are attracted to the sun, but in 
+the winter it is he alone who is afflicted. 
+
+26. I am persuaded therefore that the sun is the 
+cause of these matters. The dryness of the air in 
+these parts is also caused by the sun, to my thinking, 
+because he burns his passage through it ; so it is that 
+it is always summer in the inland part of Libya. 
+But were the stations of the seasons changed, so 
+that the south wind and the summer had their 
+station where now the north wind and winter are 
+set, and the north wind was where the south wind is 
+
+
+393 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἔστηκε, ταύτῃ δὲ ὁ βορέης, εἰ ταῦτα οὕτω εἶχε, ὁ 
+ἥλιος ἂν ἀπελαυνόμενος ἐκ μέσου τοῦ οὐρανοῦ 
+ὑπὸ τοῦ χειμῶνος καὶ τοῦ βορέω ἤιε ἂν τὰ ἄνω 
+τῆς Εὐρώπης κατά περ νῦν τῆς Λιβύης ἔρχεται, 
+διεξιόντα ὃ ἄν μιν διὰ πάσης Εὐρώπης ἔλπομαι 
+ποιέειν ἂν τὸν Ἴστρον τά περ νῦν ἐργάζεται τὸν 
+N εἶλον. 
+
+27. Τῆς αὔρης δὲ πέρι, ὅτι οὐκ ἀποπνέει, τήνδε 
+ἔχω γνώμην, ὡς κάρτα ἀπὸ θερμέων χωρέων οὐκ 
+οἰκός ἐστι οὐδὲν ἀποπνέειν, αὕρη δὲ ἀπὸ ψυχροῦ 
+τινος φιλέει πνέειν. 
+
+98. Ταῦτα μέν νυν ἔστω ὡς ἔστι τε καὶ ὡς ἀρχὴν 
+ἐγένετο" τοῦ δὲ Νείλου τὰς πηγὰς οὔτε Αἰγυπτίων 
+οὔτε Λιβύων οὔτε Ελλήνων τῶν ἐμοὶ ἀπικομένων 
+ἐς λόγους οὐδεὶς ὑπέσχετο εἰδέναι, εἰ μὴ ἐν 
+Αἰγύπτῳ ἐν Σάι πόλι ὁ γραμματιστὴς τῶν ἱρῶν 
+χρημάτων τῆς ᾿Αθηναίης. οὗτος δ᾽ ἔμοιγε παίξειν 
+ἐδόκεε φάμενος εἰδέναι ἀτρεκέως: ἔλεγε δὲ ὧδε, 
+εἶναι δύο ὄρεα ἐς ὀξὺ τὰς κορυφὰς ἀπηγμένα, 
+μεταξὺ Συήνης τε πόλιος κείμενα τῆς Θηβαΐδος 
+καὶ ᾿Ελεφαντίνης, οὐνόματα δὲ εἶναι τοῖσι ὄρεσι 
+τῷ μὲν Κρῶφι τῷ δὲ Μῶφι' τὰς ὧν δὴ πηγὰς τοῦ 
+Νείλου ἐούσας ἀβύσσους ἐκ τοῦ μέσου τῶν ὀρέων 
+τούτων ῥέειν, καὶ τὸ μὲν ἥμισυ τοῦ ὕδατος 
+ἐπ᾽ Αἰγύπτου ῥέειν καὶ πρὸς βορέην ἄνεμον, τὸ 
+δ᾽ ἕτερον ἥμισυ ἐπ᾿ Αἰθιοπίης τε καὶ νότου. ὡς δὲ 
+ἄβυσσοι εἰσὶ αἱ πηγαί, ἐς διάπειραν ἔφη τούτου 
+Ψαμμήτιχον Αἰγύπτου βασιλέα ἀπικέσθαι" ToN- 
+λέων γὰρ αὐτὸν χιλιάδων ὀργυιέων πλεξάμενον 
+κάλον κατεῖναι ταύτη καὶ οὐκ ἐξικέσθαι ἐς βυσσόν. 
+οὕτω μὲν δὴ ὁ γραμματιστής, εἰ ἄρα ταῦτα γινό- 
+μενα ἔλεγε, ἀπέφαινε, ὡς ἐμὲ κατανοέειν, Sivas 
+
+
+304 
+
+
+BOOK II, 26-28 
+
+
+now,—if this were so, the sun when driven from 
+mid-heaven by the winter and the north wind would 
+pass over the inland parts of Europe as he now 
+passes over Libya, and I think that in his passage 
+over all Europe he would work the same effect on 
+the Ister as he now does on the Nile. Ἢ 
+
+. 27. And for the reason why no air blows from the 
+river, this is my opinion: it is not natural that any 
+air blow from very hot places; airs ever come from 
+that which is very cold. 
+
+28. Be these matters, then, as they are and as 
+they were made to be in the beginning. But as to 
+the sources of the Nile, none that conversed with 
+me, neither Egyptian, nor Libyan, nor Greek, pro- 
+fessed to know them, except only the recorder of the 
+sacred treasures of Athene in the Egyptian city of 
+Sais. He, I thought, jested with me when he said that 
+he had exact knowledge; but this was his story :— 
+Between the city of Syene in the Thebaid and 
+Elephantine there are two hills with sharp peaks, 
+the one called Crophi and the other Mophi. The 
+springs of the Nile, which are unfathomed, rise 
+between these hills ; and half the water flows towards 
+Egypt northwards, the other half southwards towards 
+Ethiopia. That this source cannot be fathomed, 
+Psammetichus king of Egypt proved by experiment : 
+‘for he had a rope woven of many a thousand fathoms’ 
+length and let down into the spring, but he could not 
+reach to the bottom, Thus, then, if the recorder 
+spoke truth, he showed, as I think, that here are 
+
+
+395 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τινὰς ταύτη ἐούσας ἐσχυρὰς καὶ παλιρροίην, ola 
+δὲ ἐμβάλλοντος τοῦ ὕδατος τοῖσι ὄρεσι, μὴ 
+δύνασθαι κατιεµένην καταπειρητηρίην ἐς βυσσὸν 
+ἰέναι. 
+
+99. "AXXov δὲ οὐδενὸς οὐδὲν ἐδυνάμην πυθέσθαι. 
+ἀλλὰ τοσόνδε μὲν ἄλλο ἐπὶ μακρότατον ἐπυθό- 
+µην, μέχρι μὲν ᾿Ελεφαντίνης πόλιος αὐτόπτης 
+ἐλθών, τὸ δὲ ἀπὸ τούτου ἀκοῇ ἤδη ἱστορέων. ἀπὸ 
+Ἐλεφαντίνης πόλιος ἄνω ἰόντι ἄναντες ἐστὶ 
+χωρίον: ταύτῃ ὧν δεῖ τὸ πλοῖον διαδήσαντας 
+ἀμφοτέρωθεν κατά περ βοῦν πορεύεσθαι: ἣν δὲ 
+ἀπορραγῇ Τὸ πλοῖον οἴχεται φερόμενον ὑπὸ ἰσχύος 
+τοῦ ῥόου. τὸ χωρίον τοῦτο ἐστὶ ἐπ᾿ ἡμέρας 
+τέσσερας πλόος, σκολιὸς δὲ ταύτῃ κατά περ ὁ 
+Μαίανδρος ἐστὶ ὁ Νεῖλος" σχοῖνοι δὲ δυώδεκα εἰσὶ 
+οὗτοι τοὺς δεῖ τούτῳ τῷ τρόπῳ διεκπλῶσαι. καὶ 
+ἔπειτα ἀπίξεαι ἐς πεδίον λεῖον, ἐν τῷ νῆσον περ- 
+ιρρέει ὁ Νεῖλοςηςὗ Ταχομψὼ οὔνομα αὐτῇ ἐστι. 
+οἰκέουσι δὲ τὰ ἀπὸ ᾿Ελεφαντίνης ἄνω Αἰθίοπες 
+ἤδη καὶ τῆς νήσου τὸ ἥμισυ, τὸ δὲ ἥμισυ Αἰγύπτιοι. 
+ἔχεται δὲ τῆς νήσου λίμνη μεγάλη, τὴν πέριξ 
+νομάδες Αἰθίοπες νέμοντα. τὴν διεκπλώσας 
+és τοῦ Νείλου τὸ ῥέεθρον ἥξεις, τὸ ἐς τὴν λίμνην 
+ταύτην ἐκδιδοῖ. καὶ ἔπειτα ἀποβὰς παρὰ τὸν 
+ποταμὸν ὁδοιπορίην ποιήσεαι ἡμερέων τεσσερά- 
+κοντα" σκόπελοί Te γὰρ ἐν τῷ Νείλῳ ὀξέες av- 
+έχουσι καὶ χοιράδες πολλαί εἶσι, δι ὧν οὐκ οἷά τε 
+ἐστὶ πλέειν. διεξελθὼν δὲ ἐν τῇσι τεσσεράκοντα 
+ἡμέρῃσι τοῦτο τὸ χωρίον, αὖτις ἐς ἕτερον πλοῖον 
+ἐσβὰς δυώδεκα ἡμέρας πλεύσεαι, καὶ ἔπειτα ἥξεις 
+ἐς πόλιν μεγάλην τῇ οὔνομα ἐστὶ Μερόη' λέγεται 
+δὲ αὕτη ἡ πόλις εἶναι μητρόπολις τῶν ἄλλων 
+306 
+
+
+, BOOK II. 28-29 
+
+
+strong eddies and an upward flow of water, and the 
+rushing of the stream against the hills makes the 
+sounding-line when let down unable to reach the 
+bottom. 
+
+29. From no other man could I learn anything. 
+But this much I learnt by the farthest inquiry that I 
+could make, by my own travel and sight as far as the 
+city of Elephantine, and beyond that by question and 
+héarsay :—Beyond Elephantine, as one travels inland, 
+thelandrises. Here one must pass with the boat roped 
+on both sides as men harness an ox ; and if the rope 
+break, the boat is carried away by the strength of the 
+current. This part of the river is a four days 
+journey by boat, and the Nile here is winding like 
+the Maeander; a length of twelve schoeni must be 
+passed in the aforesaid fashion. After that you will 
+come to a level plain, where there is an island in the 
+Nile, called Tachompso. Above Elephantine the 
+country now begins to be inhabited by Ethiopians, 
+and half the people of the island are Ethiopians and 
+half Egyptians. Near to the island is a great lake, 
+on the shores of which dwell nomad Ethiopians. 
+Having crossed this, you will come to the stream of 
+the Nile, which issues into this lake. Then you will 
+disembark and journey along the river bank for forty 
+days; for there are sharp projecting rocks in the 
+Nile and many reefs, through which no boat can pass. 
+Having traversed this part in forty days as I have 
+said, you will take boat again and so travel for twelve 
+days till you come to a great city called Meroe, 
+which is said to be the capital of all Ethiopia. The 
+
+
+397 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Αἰθιόπων. οἱ ὃ ἐν ταύτῃ Δία θεῶν καὶ Διόνυσον 
+μούνους σέβονται, τούτους τε μεγάλως τιμῶσι, 
+καί σφι μαντήιον Διὸς .κατέστηκε" στρατεύονται 
+δὲ ἐπεάν σφεας ὁ θεὸς οὗτος κελεύῃ διὰ θεσπισµά- 
+των, καὶ τῇ ἂν κελεύῃ, ἐκεῖσε. 
+
+90. Amro δὲ ταύτης τῆς πόλεος πλέων ἐν ἴσῳ 
+χρόνῳ ἄλλῳ ἥξεις ἐς τοὺς αὐτομόλους ἐν ὅσῳ περ 
+ἐξ Ελεφαντίνης ἦλθες ἐς τὴν μητρόπολιν. τὴν 
+Αἰθιόπων. τοῖσι δὲ αὐτομόλοισι᾽ τούτοισι οὔνομα 
+ἐστὶ ᾿Ασμάχ, δύναται δὲ τοῦτο τὸ ἔπος κατὰ τὴν 
+Ἑλλήνων γλῶσσαν οἱ ἐξ ἆ ἀριστερῆς χειρὸς παρ- 
+εστάµενοι βασιλέι. ἀπέστησαν δὲ αὗται τέσσε- 
+ρες καὶ εἴκοσι μυριάδες Αἰγυπτίων τῶν μαχίμων 
+ἐς τοὺς Αἰθίοπας τούτους δι αἰτίην τοιήνδε. ἐπὶ 
+| Ψαμμητίχου βασιλέος υλακαὶ κατέστησαν ἔν 
+τε ᾿Ελεφαντίνῃ πόλι πρὸς Αἰθιόπων καὶ ἐν Δάφ- 
+νῃσι τῇσι Πηλουσίῃσι ἄλλη πρὸς ᾿Αραβίων τε 
+καὶ Ασσυρίων, καὶ ἐν Μαρέῃ πρὸς Λιβύης ἄλλη. 
+ἔτι δὲ ἐπ᾽ ἐμεῦ καὶ Περσέων κατὰ ταὐτὰ αἱ 
+φυλακαὶ ἔχουδι ὡς καὶ ἐπὶ Ψαμμητίχου ἦσαν' 
+καὶ γὰρ ἐν ᾿Ελεφαντίνῃ Ἠέρσαι φρουρέουσι | καὶ 
+ἐν Δάφνῃσι, τοὺς ὧν δὴ Αἰγυπτίους τρία ἔτεα 
+φρουρήσαντας ἀπέλυε οὐδεὶς τῆς φρουρῆς' οἳ δὲ 
+βουλευσάμενοι καὶ κοινῷ λόγῳ χρησάμενοι πάντες 
+ἀπὸ τοῦ Ψαμμητίχου ἀποστάντες ἤισαν ἐς Arb- 
+οπίην. Ψαμμήτιχος δὲ πυθόμενος ἐδίωκε᾽ ὡς δὲ 
+κατέλαβε, ἐδέετο πολλὰ λέγων καί σφεας θεοὺς 
+πατρωίους ἀπολιπεῖν οὐκ ἔα καὶ τέκνα καὶ γυναῖ- 
+κας. τῶν δὲ τινὰ λέγεται δέξαντα τὸ αἰδοῖον 
+
+
+1 The Greek equivalents for Amun and Osiris. 
+2 Herodotus’ account of the Nile in this chapter is for the 
+most part vague and untrustworthy. He is right as to the 
+
+
+308 
+
+
+BOOK Il. 29-30 
+
+
+people of the place worship no other gods but Zeus 
+and Dionysus!; these they greatly honour, and they 
+have a place of divination sacred to Zeus ; they send 
+out armies whenever and whithersoever this god by 
+oracle commands them.? 
+
+30. From this city you will make a journey by 
+water of equal distance with that by which you came 
+from Elephantine to the capital city of Ethiopia, and 
+you will come to the land of the Deserters. These 
+Deserters are called Asmach, which signifies, in our 
+language, those who stand on the left hand of the 
+king. These once, to the number of two hundred 
+and forty thousand Egyptians of fighting age, revolted 
+and joined themselves to the Ethiopians. The reason 
+was this :—In the reign of Psammetichus there were 
+garrisons posted at Elephantine on the side of 
+Ethiopia, at Daphnae of Pelusium on the side of 
+Arabia and Assyria, and at Marea on the side of 
+Libya. And still in my time the Persians hold these 
+posts.as they were held in the days of Psammetichus ; 
+there are Persian guards at Elephantine and at 
+Daphnae. Now the Egyptians had been on guard 
+for three years, and none came to relieve them; so 
+taking counsel and making common cause, they 
+revolted from Psammetichus and went to Ethiopia. 
+Psammetichus heard of it and pursued after them ; 
+and when he overtook them he besought them with 
+many words not to desert the gods of their fathers 
+and their children and wives. Then one of them, 
+so the story goes, said, pointing to his manly part, 
+
+
+current above Elephantine, as those who have made the 
+passage between the Assuan Dam and Assuan will realise. 
+But the conditions have of course been entirely altered by 
+the construction of the dam. 
+
+
+499 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+εἰπεῖν, ἔνθα ἂν τοῦτο 7), ἔσεσθαι αὐτοῖσι ἐνθαῦτα 
+καὶ τέκνα καὶ γυναῖκας. οὗτοι ἐπείτε ἐς Αἰθιο- 
+πίην ἀπίκοντο, διδοῦσι σφέας αὐτοὺς τῷ Λἰθιό- 
+- πων βασιλέι, ὃ δὲ σφέας τῷδε ἀντιδωρέεται" ἦσάν 
+οἱ διάφοροι τινὲς γεγονότες τῶν Αἰθιόπων" τούτους 
+ἐκέλευε ἐξελόντας τὴν ἐκείνων γῆν οἰκέειν, τούτων 
+δὲ ἐσοικισθέντων ἐς τοὺς Αἰθίοπας ἡμερώτεροι 
+γεγόνασι Αἰθίοπες, ἤθεα μαθόντες Αἰγύπτια. 
+
+31. Μέχρι μέν͵ νυν τεσσέρων μηνῶν πλόου καὶ 
+ὁδοῦ γινώσκεται. ὁ Νεῖλος πάρεξ τοῦ ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ 
+ῥεύματος' τοσοῦτοι γὰρ συμβαλλομένῳ μῆνες 
+εὑρίσκονται ἀναισιμούμενοι ἐξ Ἐλεφαντίνης πο- 
+ρενομένῳ ἐς τοὺς αὐτομόλους τούτους. peer δὲ ἀπὸ 
+ἑσπέρης τε καὶ ἡλίου δυσμέων. τὸ δὲ ἀπὸ τοῦδε 
+οὐδεὶς ἔχει σαφέως φράσαι" ἔρημος γὰρ ἐστὶ ἡ 
+χώρη αὕτη ὑπὸ καύματος. 
+
+32. ᾿Αλλὰ τάδε μὲν ἤκουσα ἀνδρῶν Κυρηναίων 
+φαμένων ἐλθεῖν τε ἐπὶ τὸ "Αμμωνος. χρηστήριον 
+καὶ ἀπικέσθαι ἐ ές λόγους ᾿Ἐτεάρχφ τῷ ᾽Αμμωνίων 
+βασιλέι, καί κως ἐκ λόγων ἄλλων ἀπικέσθαι ἐ ἐς 
+λέσχην περὶ - τοῦ Νείλου, ὡς οὐδεὶς αὐτου οἶδε τὰς 
+πηγάς, καὶ τὸν ᾿Ετέαρχον φάναι ἐλθεῖν κοτε παρ᾽ 
+αὐτὸν Νασαμῶνας ἄνδρας. τὸ δὲ ἔθνος τοῦτο 
+ἐστὶ μὲν Λιβυκὸν, νέμεται δὲ τὴν . Σύρτιν τε καὶ 
+τὴν πρὸς ἠῶ χώρην τῆς Σύρτιος οὐκ ἐπὶ πολλόν. 
+ἀπικομένους δὲ τοὺς Νασαμῶνας καὶ εἰρωτωμένους 
+ei τι ἔχουσι πλέον λέγειν περὶ τῶν ἐρήμων τῆς 
+Λιβύης, φάναι παρὰ σφίσι γενέσθαι ἀνδρῶν δυνα- 
+στέων παῖδας ὑβριστάς, τοὺς ἄλλα τε μηχανᾶσθαι 
+ἀνδρωθέντας περισσὰ καὶ δὴ καὶ ἀποκληρῶσαι 
+πέντε ἑωυτῶν ὀψομένους τὰ ἔρημα τῆς Λιβύης, 
+καὶ εἴ τι πλέον ἴδοιεν τῶν τὰ μακρότατα ἰδομένων. 
+
+
+310 
+
+
+BOOK II. 30-32 
+
+
+that wherever this should be they would have wives 
+and children. So they came to Ethiopia, and gave 
+themselves up to the king of the country; who, to 
+make them a gift in return, bade them dispossess 
+certain Ethiopians with whom he was at feud, and 
+occupy their land. These Ethiopians then learnt 
+Egyptian customs and have become milder-mannered 
+by intermixture with the Egyptians. 
+
+31. For as far as a distance of four months’ travel, 
+then, by land and water, there is knowledge of the 
+Nile, besides the part of it that is in Egypt. So many 
+months, as reckoning shows, lasts the journey from 
+Elephantine to the country of the Deserters aforesaid. 
+The river flows from the west and the sun's setting. 
+Beyond this none has clear knowledge to declare; 
+for all that country is desert, by reason of heat. 
+
+32. But this I heard from certain men of Cyrene, 
+who told me that they had gone to the oracle of 
+Ammon, and there conversed with Etearchus king 
+of the Ammonians, and that from other matters of 
+discourse they came to speak of the Nile, how no one 
+knows the source of it. Then Etearchus told them 
+that once he had been visited by certain Nasamonians. 
+These are a Libyan people, inhabiting the country of 
+the Syrtis and the country a little way to the east of 
+the Syrtis. When these Nasamonians on their coming 
+
+
+ο κ... 
+
+
+were questioned if they brought any news concerning 
+the Libyan desert, they told Etearchus that there had 
+been among them certain sons of their chief men, 
+proud and violent youths, who, when they came to 
+man's estate, besides planning other wild adventures, 
+had chosen by lot five of their company to visit the 
+deserts of Libya, and see what they might beyond 
+the utmost range of travellers. It must be known 
+
+
+311 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τῆς yàp Λιβύης τὰ μὲν κατὰ τὴν Βορηίην θάλασ- 
+σαν dT Αἰγύπτου -ἀρξάμενοι μέχρι Σολόεντος 
+ἄκρης, À $ τελευτᾷ τῆς Λιβύης, παρήκουσι παρὰ 
+πᾶσαν Λίβυες καὶ Λιβύων ἔθνεα πολλά, πλὴν 
+ὅσον "Ελληνες καὶ Φούνικες ἔ ἔχουσι τὰ δὲ ὑπὲρ 
+θαλάσσης Té καὶ τῶν ἐπὶ θάλασσαν κατηκόντων 
+ἀνθρώπων, τὰ κατύπερθε θηριώδης € ἐστὶ ἡ Λιβύη" 
+τὰ δὲ κατύπερθε τῆς θηριώδεος ψάμμος τε ἐστὶ καὶ 
+ἄνυδρος δεινῶς καὶ ἔρημος πάντων. εἶπαι Qv τοὺς 
+venvias ἀποπεμπομένους ὑπὸ τῶν ἡλίκων, ὕδασί 
+τε καὶ σιτίοισι εὖ ἐξηρτυμένους, ἰέναι τὰ πρῶτα 
+μὲν διὰ τῆς οἰκεομένης, ταύτην δὲ διεξελθόντας ἐς 
+ue θηριώδεα ἀπικέσθαι, ἐ ἐς δὲ ταύτης τὴν ἔρημον 
+
+διεξιέναι, τὴν ὁδὸν ποιευμένους πρὸς ζέφυρον ἄνε- 
+μον, διεξελθόντας δὲ χῶρον πολλὸν Ψαμμώδεα 
+
+
+. καὶ ἐν πολλῇσι ἡμέρῃσι ἐδεῖν δή κοτε δένδρεα ἐ ἐν 
+
+
+πεδίῳ πεφυκότα, καί σφεας προσελθόντας å ἅπτε- 
+σθαι τοῦ ἐπεόντος ἐπὶ τῶν δενδρέων καρποῦ, ἁπτο- 
+µένοισι δέ σφι ἐπελθεῖν ἄνδρας μικρούς, μετρίων 
+ἐλάσσονας ἀνδρῶν, λαβόντας δὲ ἄγειν σφέας" 
+φωνῆς δὲ οὔτε τι τῆς ἐκείνων τοὺς Νασαμῶνας 
+γινώσκειν οὔτε τοὺς ἄγοντας τῶν Νασαμώνων' 
+ἄγειν τε à» αὐτοὺς δι ἑλέων μεγίστων, καὶ διεξελ- 
+θόντας ταῦτα ἀπικέσθαι ἐ ἐς πόλιν ἐν τῇ πάντας 
+εἶναι τοῖσι ἄγουσι τὸ μέγαθος ἴσους, χρῶμα δὲ 
+μέλανας. παρὰ δὲ TOV πόλιν ῥέειν ποταμὸν. μέγαν, 
+ῥέειν δὲ ἀπὸ ἑσπέρης αὐτὸν πρὸς ἥλιον ἀνατέλ- 
+λοντα, φαίνεσθαι δὲ ἐν αὐτῷ κροκοδείλους. 
+
+33. Ὁ μὲν δὴ τοῦ ᾿Αμμωνίου Ἐτεάρχου λόγος 
+ἐς τοῦτό μοι δεδηλώσθω, πλὴν ὅτι ἀπονοστῆσαί τε 
+ἔφασκε τοὺς Nacapévas, ὡς οἱ Κυρηναῖοι ἔλεγον, 
+καὶ ἐς τοὺς οὗτοι ἀπίκοντο ἀνθρώπους, γόητας εἶναι 
+
+
+312 
+
+
+BOOK II. 32-33 
+
+
+that all the northern seacoast of Libya—from Egypt 
+as far as the promontory of Soloeis, which is the end 
+of Libya—is inhabited through its whole length by 
+Libyans, many tribes of them, except the part held by 
+Greeks and Phoenicians; the region of Libya above 
+. the sea and the men of the seacoast is infested by wild 
+beasts; and farther inland than the wild-beast country 
+all is sand, exceeding waterless and wholly desert. 
+This then was the story told by the young men:— 
+When they left their companions, being well supplied 
+with water and provisions, theyjourneyed first through 
+the inhabited country, and having passed this they 
+came to the region of wild beasts. After this, they 
+travelled over the desert, towards the west, and 
+crossed a wide sandy region, till after many days they 
+saw trees growing in a plain; when they came to 
+these and were plucking the fruit of the trees, they 
+were met by little men of stature smaller than 
+common, who took them and led them away. The 
+Nasamonians did not know these men’s language 
+nor did the escort know the language of the Nasa- 
+monians. The men led them across great marshes, 
+which having crossed they came to a city where all 
+the people were of like stature with the escort, 
+and black. A great river ran past this city, from 
+the west towards the rising sun; crocodiles could 
+be seen in it. 
+
+33. This is enough to say concerning the story 
+told by Etearchus the Ammonian ; except that he 
+said that the Nasamonians returned—as the men of 
+Cyrene told me—and that the people to whose 
+
+
+313 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἅπαντας. τὸν δὲ δὴ ποταμὸν τοῦτον τὸν παραρ- 
+ρέοντα καὶ ᾿Ετέαρχος συνεβάλλετο εἶναι Νεῖλον, 
+καὶ δὴ καὶ ὁ λόγος οὕτω αιρεει. ῥέει γὰρ ἐκ 
+Λιβύης ὁ ὁ Νεῖλος καὶ μέσην τάμνων Λιβύην, καὶ 
+
+
+4 ὡς ἐγὼ συμβάλλομαι» τοῖσι ἐμφανέσι τὰ μὴ 
+
+
+γινωσκόμενα τεκμαιρόμενος, τῷ Ἴστρῳ ἐκ τῶν 
+ἴσων μέτρων ὁρμᾷται. Ἴστρος τε yàp ποταμὸς 
+ἀρξάμενος ἐκ Κελτῶν καὶ Πυρήνης πόλιος ῥέει 
+μέσην σχίζων τὴν Εὐρώπην: οἱ δὲ Κελτοὶ εἰσὶ 
+ἔξω Ἡρακλέων στηλέων, ὁμουρέουσι δὲ Κυνη- 
+σίοισι, οἳ ἔσχατοι πρὸς δυσμέων οἰκέουσι τῶν ἐν 
+τῇ Εὐρώπῃ κατοικημένων" τελευτᾷ δὲ ὁ ὁ Ἴστρος ἐ ἐς 
+-Ῥήλασσαν ῥέων τὴν τοῦ Εὐξείνου. πόντου διὰ πά- 
+sns Εὐρώπης, τῇ Ἱστρίην οἱ Μιλησίων οἰκέουσι 
+ἄποικοι. 
+
+34. 'O μὲν δὴ Ἴστρος, ῥ ῥέει. γὰρ δι᾽ οἰκεομένης, 
+πρὸς πολλῶν γινώσκεται, περὶ δὲ τῶν τοῦ Νείλου 
+πηγέων οὐδεὶς ἔχει λέγειν ἀοίκητός τε γὰρ καὶ 
+ἔρημος ἐστὶ 5 Λιβύη δι ἧς p ῥέει. περὶ δὲ τοῦ 
+ῥεύματος αὐτοῦ, ἐπ᾿ ὅσον μακρότατον ἱστορεῦντα 
+ἦν ἐξικέσθαι, εἴρηται" ἐκδιδοῖ δὲ ἐς Αἴγυπτον. 
+ἡ δὲ Αἴγυπτος τῆς ὀρεινῆς Κιλικίης μάλιστά kn 
+ἀντίη κέεται" ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ € ἐς Σινώπην τὴν ἐν τῷ 
+Εὐξείνῳ πόντῳ πέντε ἡμερέων ἰθέα ὁδὸς εὐζώνῳ 
+ἀνδρί: ἡ δὲ Σινώπη τῷ Ἵστρῳ ἐκδιδόντι ἐς θάλασ- 
+σαν ἀντίον κέεται. οὕτω τὸν Νεῖλον δοκέω διὰ 
+πάσης τῆς Λιβύης διεξιόντα ἐξισοῦσθαι τῷ Ἴστρῳ. 
+
+96. Νείλου μέν νυν πέρι τοσαῦτα εἰρήσθω" 
+ἔρχομαι δὲ περὶ Αἰγύπτου μηκυνέων τὸν λόγον, ὅ ὅτι 
+πλεῖστα θωμάσια ἔχει ἢ ἡ ἄλλη πᾶσα χώρη καὶ 
+
+
+-------..... 
+
+
+1 ἐκ τῶν ἴσων μέτρων is an obscure expression. What 
+IIdt, appears to mean is, that as the Nile (according to him) 
+
+
+314 
+
+
+BOOK II. 33-35 
+
+
+country they came were all wizards; as to the river 
+that ran past the city, Etearchus guessed it to be the 
+Nile; and that is but reasonable. For the Nile lows 
+from Libya, and right through the midst of that 
+country; and as I guess, reasoning as to things 
+unknown from visible signs, it takes its rise from the 
+same measure of distance as the Ister.! That river 
+flows from the land of the Celtae and the city of 
+Pyrene through the very midst of Europe; now the 
+Celtae dwell beyond the pjllars of Heracles, being 
+neighbours of the Cynesii, who are the westernmost 
+of all nations inhabiting Europe. The Ister, then, 
+flows clean across Europe and ends its course in the 
+Euxine sea, at Istria, which is inhabited by Milesii^ 
+colonists. | 
+
+34. As it flows through inhabited country, its 
+course is known to many ; but none can speak of the 
+source of the Nile; for Libya, through which it runs, 
+is uninhabited and desert. Concerning its course ] 
+have told all that I could learn by inquiry; and it 
+issues into Egypt. Now Egypt lies about opposite 
+to the mountainous part of Cilicia; whence it is a 
+straight five days’ journey for an unburdened man to 
+Sinope on the Euxine; and Sinope lies over against 
+the place where the Ister falls into the sea, Thus I 
+suppose the course of the Nile in its passage through 
+Libya to be like the course of the Ister. 
+
+35. It is sufficient to say thusmuch concerning the 
+Nile. But concerning Egypt I will now speak at 
+length, because nowhere are there so many marvellous 
+things, nor in the whole world beside are there to 
+flows first from W. to E. and then turns northward, so the 
+Danube flows first from W. to E. and then (as he says) from 
+N. to S.; and so the rivers in a manner correspond: one 
+crosses Africa, the other Europe. 
+
+315 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+épya λόγου pelo παρέχεται πρὸς πᾶσαν χώρην 
+τούτων εἵνεκα πλέω ) περὶ αὐτῆς εἰρήσεται. 
+
+Αἰγύπτιοι ἅμα τῷ οὐρανῷ τῷ κατὰ σφέας ἐόντι 
+ἑτεροίῳ καὶ τῷ ποταμῷ φύσιν ἀλλοίην παρεχο- 
+μένῳ ῆ οἱ ἄλλοι ποταμοί, τὰ πολλὰ πάντα ἔμπαλιν 
+τοῖσι ἄλλοισι ; ἀνθρώποισι ἐστήσαντο ἤθεά τε καὶ 
+νόμους" ἐν τοῖσι αἱ μὲν γυναῖκες ἀγοράξουσι καὶ 
+καπηλ. εύουσι, οἱ δὲ ἄνδρες κατ᾽ οἴκους ἐόντες 
+ὑφαίνουσι' ὑφαίνουσι δὲ οἱ uev ἄλλοι ἄνω τὴν 
+κρόκην ὠθέοντες, Αἰγύπτιοι δὲ κάτω. τὰ ἄχθεα 
+οἱ μὲν ἄνδρες ἐπὶ τῶν κεφαλέων φορέουσι, αἱ δὲ 
+γυναῖκες ἐπὶ τῶν ὤμων. οὐρέουσι αἱ μὲν γυναῖκες 
+ὀρθαί, οὗ δὲ ἄνδρες κατήμενοι. εὐμαρείῃ χρέωνται 
+ἐν τοῖσι οἴκοισι, ἐσθίουσι δὲ ἔξω ἐν τῇσι ὁδοῖσι 
+ἐπιλέγοντες ὡς τὰ μὲν αἰσχρὰ ἀναγκαῖα δὲ ἐ ἐν ἀπο- 
+κρύφ ἐστὶ ποιέειν χρεόν, τὰ δὲ μὴ αἰσχρὰ ἆνα- 
+φανδὸν. ἑρᾶται γυνὴ μὲν οὐδεμία οὔτε ἔρσενος 
+θεοῦ οὔτε θηλέης, «ἄνδρες δὲ πάντων τε καὶ πα- 
+σεων, τρέφειν τοὺς τοκέας τοῖσι μὲν παισὶ οὐδε- 
+μία ἀνάγκη μὴ βουλομένοισι, thot δὲ θυγατράσι 
+πᾶσα ἀνάγκη καὶ μὴ βουλομένῃσι. 
+
+36. Οἱ ἱρέες τῶν θεῶν τῇ μὲν ἄλλη κοµέουσι, ἐν 
+Αἰγύπτῳ δὲ ξυρῶνται. τοῖσι ἄλλοισι ἀνθρώποισι 
+νόμος ἅμα κήδεϊ κεκάρθαι τὰς κεφαλὰς τοὺς μα- 
+λιστα ἱκνέεται, Αἰγύπτιοι δὲ ὑπὸ τοὺς θανάτους 
+ἀνιεῖσι τὰς τρίχας αὔξεσθαι τάς τε ἐν τῇ κεφαλῇ 
+καὶ τῷ γενείῳ, τέως ἐξυρημένοι. τοῖσι μὲν ἄλλοισι 
+ἀνθρώποισι epis θηρίων ἡ δίαιτα ἀποκέκριται, 
+Αἰγυπτίοισι ὲ ὁμοῦ θηρίοισι ἡ ἡ δίαιτα ἐστί. ἀπὸ 
+πυρῶν καὶ κριθέων ἄλλοι -ξώουσι, Αἰγυπτίων δὲ 
+τῷ ποιευμένῳ ἀπὸ τούτων τὴν ξόην ὄνειδος μέ- 
+γιστον ἐστί, ἀλλὰ ἀπὸ ὀλυρέων ποιεῦνται σιτία, 
+
+
+316 
+
+
+BOOK II. 35-36 
+
+
+be seen so many works of unspeakable greatness ; 
+therefore I shall say the more concerning Egypt. 
+
+As the Egyptians have a climate peculiar to them- 
+selves, and their river is different in its nature from 
+- all other rivers, so have they made all their customs and 
+laws of a kind contrary for the most part to those of all 
+othermen. Among them, the women buy and sell, the 
+men abide at home: and weave; and whereas in weav- 
+ing all others push the woof upwar ds, the Egyptians 
+push it downwards. Men carry burdens on their 
+heads, women on their shoulders. Women make water 
+standing, men sitting. They relieve nature indoors, 
+and eat out of doors in the streets, giving the 
+reason, that things unseemly but necessary should be 
+done in secret, things not unseemly should be done 
+openly, No woman is dedicated to the service of 
+any god or goddess; men are dedicated to all deities 
+male or femiale. Sons are not compelled against 
+their wil to support their parents, but daughters 
+must do so though they be unwilling. 
+
+36. Everywhere else, priests of the gods wear 
+their hairlong; in Egypt they are shaven. With all 
+other men, in mourning for the dead those most 
+nearly concerned have their heads shaven; Egyptians 
+are shaven at other times, but after a death they let 
+their hair and beard στον... The Egyptians are the 
+only people who keep their animals with them in the 
+house. Whereas all others live on wheat and barley, 
+it is the greatest disgrace for an Egyptian so to live ; 
+they make food from a coarse grain which some call 
+
+
+317 
+
+
+-— 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τὰς ζειὰς μετεξέτεροι καλέουσι. φυρῶσι τὸ μὲν 
+σταῖς τοῖσι ποσί, τὸν δὲ πηλὸν τῆσι χερσί, καὶ τὴν 
+κόπρον ἀναιρέονται. τὰ αἰδοῖα ὦλλοι μὲν ἐῶσι 
+ὡς ἐγένοντο, πλὴν ὅσοι ἀπὸ τούτων ἔμαθον, 
+Αἰγύπτιοι δὲ περιτάµνονται. εἵματα τῶν μὲν 
+ἀνδρῶν ἕκαστος ἔχει δύο, τῶν δὲ γυναικῶν ἓν 
+ἑκάστη. τῶν ἱστίων τοὺς κρίκους καὶ τοὺς κάλους 
+οἱ μὲν ἄλλοι ἔξωθεν προσδέουσι, Αἰγύπτιοι δὲ 
+ἔσωθεν. γράμματα γράφουσι καὶ λογίζονται ψή- 
+Ho “Ἕλληνες μὲν ἀπὸ τῶν ἀριστερῶν ἐπὶ τὰ 
+εξιὰ φέροντες τὴν χεῖρα, Αἰγύπτιοι δὲ ἀπὸ τῶν 
+δεξιῶν ἐπὶ τὰ ἀριστερά᾽ καὶ ποιεῦντες ταῦτα αὐτοὶ 
+μὲν φασὶ ἐπὶ δεξιὰ ποιέειν, Έλληνας δὲ ἐπ᾽ apt- 
+στερά. διφασίοισι δὲ γράμμασι χρέωνται, καὶ τὰ 
+μὲν αὐτῶν ἱρὰ τὰ δὲ δημοτικὰ καλέεται. 
+
+37. Θεοσεβέες δὲ περισσῶς ἐόντες μάλιστα 
+πάντων ἀνθρώπων νόμοισι τοιοῖσιδε χρέωνται. 
+ἐκ χαλκέων ποτηρίων πίνουσι, διασμῶντες ἀνὰ 
+πᾶσαν ἡμέρην, οὐκ ὃ μὲν ὃ δ οὔ, ἀλλὰ πάντες. 
+εἵματα δὲ λίνεα φορέουσι αἰεὶ νεόπλυτα, ἐπιτη- 
+δεύοντες τοῦτο μάλιστα, τά τε αἰδοῖα περι- 
+τάµνονται καθαρειότητος εἵνεκεν, προτιμῶντες 
+καθαροὶ εἶναι ἢ εὐπρεπέστεροι. οἱ δὲ ἱρέες 
+ξυρῶνται πᾶν τὸ σῶμα διὰ τρίτης ἡμέρης, ἵνα 
+μήτε φθεὶρ μήτε ἄλλο μυσαρὸν μηδὲν ἐγγίνηταί 
+σφι θεραπεύουσι τοὺς θεούς. ἐσθῆτα δὲ φορέουσι 
+οἱ ἱρέες Ἄινέην μούνην καὶ ὑποδήματα βύβλινα' 
+ἄλλην δέ σφι ἐσθῆτα οὐκ ἔξεστι λαβεῖν οὐδὲ 
+ὑποδήματα ἄλλα. λοῦνται δὲ δὶς τῆς ἡμέρης 
+ἑκάστης ψυχρῷ καὶ δὶς ἑκάστης νυκτός, ἄλλας τε 
+θρησκηίας ἐπιτελέουσι μυρίας ὡς εἰπεῖν λόγῳ. 
+
+
+πάσχουσι δὲ καὶ ἀγαθὰ οὐκ ὀλίγα: οὔτε τι γὰρ 
+318 
+
+
+BOOK II. 36-37 
+
+
+spelt. They knead dough with their feet, and gather 
+mud and dung with their hands. The Egyptians and 
+those who have learnt it from them are the only 
+people who practise circumcision. Every man has 
+two garments, every woman only one. The rings 
+and sheets of sails are made fast elsewhere outside 
+the boat, but inside it in Egypt. The Greeks write 
+and calculate by moving the hand from left to right; 
+the Egyptians do contrariwise; yet they say that 
+their way of writing is towards the right, and the 
+Greek way towards the left. They use two kinds of 
+writing ; one is called sacred, the other common.! 
+37. They are beyond measure religious, more than 
+any other nation; and these are among their cus- 
+toms :—They drink from cups of bronze, which they 
+cleanse out daily; this is done not by some but by 
+all. They are especially careful ever to wear newly- 
+washed linen raiment. They practise circumcision for 
+cleanliness’ sake ; for they set cleanness above seemli- 
+ness. Their priests shave the whole body every other 
+day, that no lice or aught else that is foul may infest 
+them in their service of the gods. The priests wear 
+a single linen garment and sandals of papyrus?: they 
+may take no other kind of clothing or footwear. 
+Twice a day and twice every night they wash in cold 
+water. Their religious observances are, one may 
+say, innumerable. But also they receive many 
+benefits: they neither consume nor spend aught of 
+
+
+1 Three kinds, really : hieroglyphic, hieratic (derived from 
+hieroglyphic), and demotic, a simplified form of hieratic. 
+See Rawlinson’s essay, ch. 5, in his Appendix to Book II. 
+
+2 On this plant, see ch. 92. 
+
+
+319 
+
+
+με’; 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τῶν οἰκηίων τρίβουσι οὔτε δαπανῶνται, ἀλλὰ καὶ 
+σιτία σφι ἐστὶ ἱρὰ πεσσόμενα, καὶ κρεῶν βοέων 
+καὶ χηνέων πλῆθός τι ἑκάστῳ γίνεται πολλὸν 
+ἡμέρης ἑκάστης, δίδοται δέ σφι καὶ οἶνος ἀμπέ- 
+Mos" ἰχθύων δὲ οὔ σφι ἔξεστι πάσασθαι. 
+κυάμους δὲ οὔτε τι μάλα σπείρουσι Αἰγύπτιοι 
+ἐν τῇ χώρῃ, τούς τε γινομένους οὔτε τρώγουσι 
+οὔτε ἕ οντες πατέονται, οἱ δὲ δὴ ἱρέες οὐδὲ 
+ὁρέοντες ἀνέχονται, νομίξοντες οὐ καθαρὸν εἶναύ 
+«μίν ὄσπριον. ἱρᾶται δὲ οὐκ εἷς ἑ ἑκάστου τῶν θεῶν 
+ἀλλὰ πολλοί, τῶν εἷς ἐστι ἀρχιερεύς: ἐπεὰν δέ 
+τις ἀποθάνῃ, τούτου ὁ παῖς ἀντικατίσταται. 
+
+38. Τοὺς δὲ βοῦς τοὺς ἔρσενας τὸῦ ᾿Επάφου 
+εἶναι νομίζουσι, καὶ τούτου εἵνεκα δοκιμάξουσι 
+αὐτοὺς ὧδε: τρίχα ἣν καὶ μίαν ἴδηται ἐπεοῦσαν 
+μέλαιναν, οὐ καθαρὸν εἶναι νομίζει. δίζηται. δὲ 
+ταῦτα ἐπὶ τούτῳ τεταγμένος τῶν τις ἱρέων καὶ 
+ὀρθοῦ ἑστεῶτος τοῦ κτήνεος καὶ ὑπτίου, καὶ τὴν 
+γλῶσσαν ἐξειρύσας, εἰ καθαρὴ τῶν προκειμένων 
+σημηίων, τὰ ἐγὼ ἐ ἐν ἄλλῳ λόγῳ ἐρέω: κατορᾷ δὲ 
+
+/ » 
+καὶ τὰς τρίχας τῆς οὐρῆς εἰ κατὰ φύσιν ἔχει 
+πεφυκυίας. ἣν δὲ τούτων πάντων j καθαρός, 
+σημαίνεται βύβλῳ περὶ τὰ κέρεα εἱλίσσων καὶ 
+ἔπειτα γῆν σημαντρίδα ἐπιπλάσας ἐπιβάλλει τὸν 
+δακτύλιον, καὶ οὕτω ἀπάγουσι. ἀσήμαντον δὲ 
+θύσαντι θάνατος ἡ δημίη ἐ ἐπικέεται. δοκιμάξεται 
+μέν νυν τὸ κτῆνος τρόπῷ τοιῷδε, θυσίη δέ σφι ἥδε 
+κατέστηκε. 
+
+39. ᾿Αγαγόντες τὸ σεσημασμένον κτῆνος πρὸς 
+τὸν βωμὸν ὅκου ἂν θύωσι, πῦρ ἀνακαίουσι, ἔπειτα 
+δὲ ἐπ᾿ αὐτοῦ οἶνον κατὰ τοῦ ἱρηίου ἐπισπείσαντες 
+καὶ ἐπικαλέσαντες τὸν θεὸν σφάξουσι, σφά- 
+
+
+320 
+
+
+BOOK Il. 37-39 
+
+
+their own; sacred food is cooked for them, to each 
+man is brought every day flesh of beeves and geese 
+in great abundance, and wine of grapes too is given 
+to them. They may not eat fish. The Egyptians 
+sow no beans in their country ; ifany grow, they will 
+not eat them either raw or cooked; the priests 
+cannot endure even to see them, considering beans 
+
+
+. an unclean kind of pulse. Many (not one alone) are 
+
+
+dedicated to the service of each god. One of these 
+is the high priest; and when a high priest dies his 
+son succeeds to his office. 
+
+38. They hold that bulls belong to Epaphus,! and 
+therefore test them thus to see if there be as much 
+as one black hair on them ; if there be, the bull is 
+deemed not pure; one of the priests, appointed to 
+this task, examines the beast, making it to stand and 
+to lie, and drawing out its tongue, to know whether 
+it bear none of the stated sigris which I shall declare 
+hereafter.? He looks also to the hairs of the tail, to 
+see if they grow natura E it be pure in all these 
+réspetts, the priest marks it by wrapping papyrus 
+round the horns, then smears it with sealing-earth 
+and stamps it with his ring ; and after this they lead 
+the bull away. But the penalty is death for sacri- 
+ficing a bull that the priest has not marked. Such is 
+the manner of proving the beast; I will now show 
+how it is sacrificed. 
+
+39. Having brought the marked beast to the altar 
+where the sacrifice is to be, they kindle a fire; then 
+they pour wine on the altar over the victim and 
+call upon the god; then they cut its throat, and 
+
+
+1 Epaphus is the Greek form of Apis or Hapi, the bull-god 
+of Memphis; for bulls of Mair's Oppian (L.C.L.) Cyn. II. 
+86, note. 2 iii. 98. 
+
+
+321 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ξαντες δὲ ἀποτάμνουσι τὴν κεφαλήν. σῶμα μὲν 
+4 ^ 4 , ^ \ / M 
+δὴ τοῦ κτήνεος δείρουσι, κεφαλὴ δὲ κείνῃ πολλὰ 
+καταρησάμενοι φέρουσι, τοῖσι μὲν ἂν 7) ἀγορὴ 
+Vd , » > / » D! M 
+καὶ "EXXqvés σφι ἔωσι ἐπιδήμιοι ἔμποροι, ot δὲ 
+φέροντες ἐς τὴν ἀγορὴν ἀπ᾽ ὧν ἔδοντο, τοῖσι δὲ ἂν 
+`Y / e D δ᾽ , / , ` 
+μὴ παρέωσι "Ελληνες, of δ᾽ ἐκβάλλουσι ἐς τον 
+/ ^ ^ 
+ποταμόν: καταρῶνται δὲ τάδε λέγοντες τῆσι 
+κεφαλῇσι, εἴ τι μέλλοι ἢ σφίσι τοῖσι θύουσι ἢ 
+Αἰγύπτῳ τῇ συναπάση κακὸν γενέσθαι, ἐς κεφαλὴν 
+ταύτην τραπέσθαι. κατὰ μέν νυν τὰς κεφαλὰς 
+^ / ^ 
+τῶν θυοµένων κτηνέων καὶ τὴν ἐπίσπεισιν τοῦ 
+, ^ ^ 
+οἴνου πάντες Αἰγύπτιοι νόμοισι τοῖσι αὐτοῖσι 
+χρέωνται ὁμοίως ἐς πάντα τὰ ἱρά, καὶ ἀπὸ τούτου 
+^ , 9$ SN » 3 N , LA ^ 
+τοῦ νόµου οὐδὲ ἄλλου οὐδενὸς ἐμψύχου κεφαλῆς 
+, 
+γεύσεται Αἰγυπτίων οὐδείς. 
+/ ^ e^ 
+40. Ἡ δὲ δὴ ἐξαίρεσις τῶν ἱρῶν καὶ ἡ 
+^ » » e F / 
+καῦσις ἄλλη περὶ ἄλλο ἱρόν σφι κατέστηκε' 
+9 n 
+τὴν Ò ὧν µεγιστην τε Saipova ἥγηνται εἶναι καὶ 
+ε 
+μεγίστην οἱ ὁρτὴν ἀνάγουσι, ταύτην ἔρχομαι 
+ἐρέων .. . .1 ἐπεὰν ἀποδείρωσι τὸν βοῦν, κατευ- 
+ld A 
+ξάμενοι κοιλίην μὲν κείνην πᾶσαν ἐξ ὧν εἷλον, 
+σπλάγχνά δὲ αὐτοῦ λείπουσι ἐν τῷ σώματι καὶ 
+τὴν πιμελήν, σκέλεα δὲ ἀποτάμνουσι καὶ τὴν 
+ὀσφὺν ἄκρην καὶ τοὺς ὤμους τε καὶ τὸν τράχηλον. 
+; ^ / ^ ^ M 
+ταῦτα δὲ ποιήσαντες τὸ ἄλλο σῶμα τοῦ βοὸς 
+πιμπλᾶσι ἄρτων καθαρῶν καὶ μέλιτος καὶ acta- 
+φίδος καὶ σύκων καὶ λιβανωτοῦ καὶ σμύρνης καὶ 
+τῶν ἄλλων θυωμάτων, πλήσαντες δὲ τούτων 
+καταγίξουσι, ἔλαιον ἄφθονον καταχέοντες" mpo- 
+r A A 
+νηστεύσαντες δὲ θύουσι, καιομένων δὲ τῶν ἱρῶν 
+
+
+1 There is an obvious lacuna; probably the name of the 
+goddess (Isis) was given here. 
+
+
+322 
+
+
+BOOK II. 39-40 
+
+
+having so done they sever the head from the body. 
+They flay the carcase of the victim, then invoke 
+many curses on its head and carry the same away. 
+Where there is a market, and Greek traders in 
+the place, the head is taken to the market and 
+sold; where there are no Greeks, it is thrown into 
+the river. The imprecation which they utter over 
+the heads is, that whatever ill threatens themselves, 
+who sacrifice, or the whole of Egypt, may fall upon 
+that head, In respect of the heads of sacrificed 
+beasts and the libation of wine, the practice of all 
+Egyptians is the same in all sacrifices ; and from this 
+ordinance no Egyptian will taste of the head of 
+anything that had life. | 
+
+~ 40. But in regard to the disembowelling and burn- 
+ing of the victims, there is a different way for each 
+sacrifice. I will now, however, speak of that goddess 
+whom they deem the greatest, and in whose honour 
+they keep highest festival. The ox being flayed, after 
+` prayer made as aforesaid they take out the whole 
+stomach, leaving the entrails in the carcase and the fat, 
+and cut off the legs, the end of the loin, the shoulders, 
+and the neck. Having done this, they fill what 
+remains of the carcase of the ox with pure bread, 
+honey, raisins, figs, frankincense, myrrh, and other 
+kinds of incense, and then burn it, pouring much oil 
+on it. They fast before the sacrifice, and while it is 
+burning they all make lamentation; and when their 
+
+
+323 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τύπτονται πάντες, ἐπεὰν δὲ ἀποτύψωνται, δαῖτα 
+προτίθενται τὰ ἐλίποντο τῶν ἱρῶν. 
+
+41. Τοὺς uév vvv καθαροὺς βοῦς τοὺς ἔρσενας 
+καὶ τοὺς μόσχους οἱ πάντες Αἰγύπτιοι θύουσι, 
+τὰς δὲ θηλέας ob σφι ἔξεστι θύειν, ἀλλὰ ἱραί εἶσι 
+τῆς Ἴσιος' τὸ γὰρ τῆς Ἴσιος ἄγαλμα ἐὸν γυναι- 
+κήιον βούκερων ἐστὶ κατά περ Ἕλληνες τὴν Ἰοῦν 
+γράφουσι, καὶ τὰς βοῦς τὰς θηλέας Αἰγύπτιοι 
+πάντες ὁμοίως σέβονται προβάτων πάντων μάλιστα 
+μακρᾷ. τῶν εἵνεκα οὔτε ἀνὴρ Αἰγύπτιος οὔτε 
+γυνὴ ἄνδρα "Ελληνα φιλήσειε ἂν τῷ στόματι, 
+οὐδὲ μαχαίρῃ ἀνδρὸς "Ἑλληνος χρήσεται οὐδὲ 
+ὀβελοῖσι οὐδὲ λέβητι, οὐδὲ κρέως καθαροῦ βοὸς 
+διατετμημένου Ἑλληνικῇ μαχαίρῃ γεύσεται. Oá- 
+πτουσι δὲ τοὺς ἀποθνήσκοντας βοῦς τρόπον τόνδε" 
+τὰς μὲν θηλέας ἐς τὸν ποταμὸν ἀπιεῖσι, τοὺς δὲ 
+ἔρσενας κατορύσσουσι ἕκαστοι ἐν τοῖσι προα- 
+στείοισι, τὸ Κέρας τὸ ἕτερον ἢ καὶ ἀμφότερα 
+ὑπερέχοντα σημηίου εἵνεκεν" ἐπεὰν δὲ cami 
+καὶ προσίῃ ὁ τεταγμένος χρόνος, ἀπικνέεται 
+ἐς ἑκάστην πόλιν βᾶρις ἐκ τῆς Προσωπίτιδος 
+καλευμένης νήσου. 1) 9 ἔστι μὲν ἐν τῷ Δέλτα, 
+περίμετρον δὲ αὐτῆς εἰσὶ σχοῖνοι ἐννέα. ἐν ταύτῃ 
+ὧν τῇ Προσωπίτιδι νήσῳ ἔνεισι μὲν καὶ ἄλλαι 
+πόλιες συχναί, ἐκ τῆς δὲ αἱ βάριες παραγίνονται 
+ἀναιρησόμεναι τὰ ὀστέα τῶν βοῶν, οὔνομα τῇ 
+πόλι ᾿Ατάρβηχις, ἐν δ᾽ αὐτῇ ᾿Αφροδίτης ἐρὸν 
+ἅγιον ἵδρυται. ἐκ ταύτης τῆς πόλιος πλανῶνται 
+πολλοὶ ἄλλοι ἐς ἄλλας πόλις, ἀνορύξαντες δὲ «a 
+ὀστέα ἀπάγουσι καὶ θάπτουσι ἐς ἕνα χῶρον 
+πάντες. κατὰ ταὐτὰ δὲ τοῖσι βουσὶ καὶ TAANA 
+κτήνεα θάπτουσι ἀποθνήσκοντα' καὶ γὰρ περὶ 
+
+
+324 
+
+
+BOOK II. 40-41 
+
+
+lamentation is over, they set out a meal of what is 
+left of the victim. 
+
+41. All Egyptians sacrifice unblemished bulls and 
+bull-calves; they may not sacrifice cows; these are 
+sacred to Isis. For the images of Isis are in woman's 
+form, horned like an ox, as the Greeks picture Io, and 
+cows are held by far the most sacred of all beasts of 
+the herd by all Egyptians alike. For this reason no 
+Egyptian man or woman will kiss a Greek man, or 
+use a knife, or a spit, or a caldron belonging to a 
+Greek, or taste the flesh of an unblemished ox that 
+has been cut up with a Greek knife. Oxen that die 
+are dealt with in the following way :—Cows are cast 
+into the river, bulls are buried by each city in its 
+suburbs, with one or both horns uncovered for a sign: 
+then, when the carcase is decomposed, and the time 
+appointed is at hand, a boat comes to each city from. 
+the island called Prosopitis, an island in the Delta, 
+of nine schoeni in circuit. There are many other 
+towns in Prosopitis; that one from which come the 
+boats to gather the bones of the bulls is called 
+Atarbechis ;! there stands in it a temple of Aphrodite 
+of great sanctity. From this-town many go about, some 
+to one town and some to another, and dig up the 
+bones, which they then carry away and all bury in 
+one place. As they bury the oxen, so they do with 
+all other beasts at death. Such is their ordinance 
+
+
+1 No doubt from Athor or Hathor, under which name Isis 
+was often worshipped. 
+
+
+325 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+^ e / L4 A 
+ταῦτα οὕτω σφι νενομοθέτηται: κτείνουσι γὰρ 
+δὴ οὐδὲ ταῦτα. 
+
+42. "Όσοι μὲν δὴ Διὸς Θηβαιέος ἵδρυνται ἱρὸν 
+ἢ νομοῦ τοῦ Θηβαίου εἰσί, οὗτοι μέν νυν πάντες 
+ὀίων ἀπεχόμενοι αἶγας θύουσι. θεοὺς γὰρ δὴ οὐ 
+τοὺς αὐτοὺς ἅπαντες ὁμοίως Αἰγύπτιοι σέβονται, 
+
+AL / , T \ M / 9 
+πλὴν Ἴσιός τε καὶ Οσίριος, τὸν δὴ Διόνυσον εἶναι 
+λέγουσι' τούτους δὲ ὁμοίως ἅπαντες σέβονται. 
+ὅσοι δὲ τοῦ Μένδητος ἔκτηνται ἱρὸν ἢ νομοῦ τοῦ 
+Μενδησίου εἰσί, οὗτοι δὲ αἰγῶν ἀπεχόμενοι ὄις 
+θύουσι. Θηβαῖοι μέν νυν καὶ ὅσοι διὰ τούτους 
+ὀίων ἀπέχονται, διὰ τάδε λέγουσι τὸν νόμον 
+
+᾽ 5 4 OF € A ^ / 
+τόνδε σφίσι τεθῆναι. Πρακλέα θελῆσαι πάντως 
+ἐδέσθαι τὸν Δία, καὶ τὸν οὐκ ἐθέλειν ὀφθῆναι ὑπ᾽ 
+αὐτοῦ" τέλος δέ, ἐπείτε λιπαρέειν τὸν "Ἡρακλέα, 
+τάδε τὸν Δία μηχανήσασθαι" κριὸν ἐκδείραντα 
+προσχέσθαι τε τὴν κεφαλὴν ἀποταμόντα τοῦ 
+κριοῦ καὶ ἐνδύντα τὸ νάκος οὕτω οἱ ἑωυτὸν 
+ἐπιδέξαι. ἀπὸ τούτου κριοπρόσωπον τοῦ Διὸς 
+
+» e^ 3 3 `~ \ , , 
+τῶγαλμα ποιεῦσι Αἰγύπτιοι, ἀπὸ δὲ Αἰγυπτίων 
+υ /, 37 3 \ > / 
+Αμμώνιοι, ἐόντες Αἰγυπτιων τε καὶ Αἰθιόπων 
+ἄποικοι καὶ φωνὴν μεταξὺ ἀμφοτέρων νομίζοντες. 
+δοκέειν δέ μοι, καὶ τὸ οὔνομα ᾿Αμμώνιοι ἀπὸ τοῦδε 
+σφίσι τὴν ἐπωνυμίην ἐποιήσαντο' ᾿Αμοῦν γὰρ 
+Αἰγύπτιοι καλέουσι τὸν Δία. τοὺς δὲ κριοὺς οὐ 
+θύουσι Θηβαῖοι, ἀλλ᾽ εἰσί σφι ἱροὶ διὰ τοῦτο. 
+μιῇ δὲ ἡμέρῃ τοῦ ἐνιαυτοῦ, ἐν ὁρτῇ τοῦ Διός, κριὸν 
+ἕνα κατακόψαντες καὶ ἀποδείραντες κατὰ τὠυτὸ 
+ἐνδύουσι τῶγαλμα τοῦ Διός, καὶ ἔπειτα ἄλλο 
+
+
+346 
+
+
+BOOK II. 41-42 
+
+
+respecting. these also; for they, too, may not be 
+killed. 
+
+42. All that have among them a temple of Zeus of 
+Thebes, or are of the Theban province, sacrifice 
+goats but will not touch sheep. For no gods are 
+worshipped in common by the whole of Egypt save 
+only Isis and Osiris, whom they say to be Dionysus; 
+these are worshipped by all alike. Those who have a 
+temple of Mendes! or are of the Mendesian province 
+sacrifice sheep, but will not touch goats. The 
+Thebans, and those who by the Theban example will 
+not touch sheep give the following reason for their 
+ordinance: Heracles? (they say) would by all means 
+look upon Zeus, and Zeus would not be seen by him. 
+At last, being earnestly entreated by Heracles, Zeus 
+contrived a device, whereby he showed himself dis- 
+playing the head and wearing the fleece of a ram 
+which he had flayed and beheaded. It is from this 
+that the Egyptian images of Zeus have a ram's head; 
+and in this the Egyptians are imitated by the Ammo- - 
+nians, who are colonists from Egypt and Ethiopia and 
+speak a language compounded of the tongues of both 
+countries. It was from this, I think, that the Ammo- 
+nians got their name too; for Amun is the Egyptian 
+name for Zeus. The Thebans, then, hold rams 
+sacred for this reason, and do not sacrifice them. 
+But on one day in the year, at the festival of Zeus, 
+they cut in pieces and flay a single ram and put the 
+fleece on the image of Zeus, as in the story ; then 
+
+
+1 Mendes, Greek form of Binded, a town in the Delta 
+where Osiris was worshipped in the form of a ram, according 
+to monuments. Here Mendes apparently = Osiris. 
+
+. * The Greeks identified with Heracles an Egyptian god 
+Shu (called at Thebes Chonsu-Neferhotep, ᾿Αγαθοδαίµων). 
+
+
+327 
+
+
+b 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἄγαλμα Ἡρακλέος προσάγουσι πρὸς αὐτό. ταῦτα 
+δὲ ποιήσαντες τύπτοντα! οἱ περὶ τὸ ἱρὸν ἅπαντες 
+τὸν κριὸν καὶ ἔπειτα ἐν ἱρῇ θήκη θάπτουσι αὐτόν. 
+
+43, Ἡρακλέος δὲ πέρι τόνδε τὸν λόγον ἤκουσα, 
+ὅτι εἴη τῶν δυώδεκα θεῶν' τοῦ ἑτέρου δὲ πέρι 
+Ἡρακλέος, τὸν “Ἕλληνες οἴδασι, οὐδαμῇ Αἰγύπτου 
+ἐδυνάσθην ἀκοῦσαι. καὶ μὴν ὅτι γε οὐ παρ᾽ 
+Ἑλλήνων ἔλαβον τὸ οὔνομα Αἰγύπτιοι τοῦ Ἡ pa- 
+κλέος, ἀλλὰ “Ελληνες μᾶλλον map Αἰγυπτίων 
+καὶ Ἑλλήνων οὗτοι οἱ θέμενοι τῷ Αμϕιτρύωνος 
+γόνῳ τοὔνομα Ἡρακλέα, πολλά μοι καὶ ἄλλα 
+τεκμήρια ἐστὶ τοῦτο οὕτω ἔχειν, ev δὲ καὶ τόδε, 
+ὅτι τε τοῦ Ἡρακλέος τούτου οἱ γονέες ἀμφότεροι 
+ἦσαν ᾿Αμϕιτρύων͵ καὶ ᾿Αλκμήνη γεγονότες πὸ 
+ἀνέκαθεν ἀπ᾽ Αἰγύπτου, καὶ διότι Αἰγύπτιοι οὔτε 
+Ποσειδέωνος οὔτε Διοσκούρων τὰ οὐνόματα φασὶ 
+εἰδέναι, οὐδέ σφι θεοὶ οὗτοι ἐν τοῖσι ἄλλοισι 
+θεοῖσι ἀποδεδέχαται. καὶ μὴν εἴ γε παρ᾽ Ἑλλήνων 
+ἔλαβον οὔνομά τευ δαίμονος, τούτων οὐκ ἥκιστα 
+ἀλλὰ μάλιστα ἔμελλον μνήμην ἕξειν, εἴ περ καὶ 
+τότε ναυτιλίῃσι ἐχρέωντο καὶ ἦσαν Ἑλλήνων 
+τενὲς ναυτίλοι, ὡς ἔλπομαί τε καὶ ἐμὴ γνώμη 
+αἱρέει' ὥστε τούτων ἂν καὶ μᾶλλον τῶν θεῶν τὰ 
+οὐνόματα ἐξεπιστέατο Αἰγύπτιοι ἡ η τοῦ H ρακλέος. 
+ἀλλά τις ἀρχαῖος ἐστὶ Θεὸς Αἰγυπτίοισι Ἥρα- 
+Kens’ ὡς δὲ αὐτοὶ λέγουσι, ἔτεα ἐστὶ ἑπτα- 
+κισχίλια καὶ μύρια ἐς "Apaciw βασιλεύσαντα, 
+ἐπείτε ἐκ τῶν ὀκτὼ θεῶν οἱ δυώδεκα θεοὶ ἐγένοντο 
+τῶν Ἡρακλέα ἕ ἕνα νομίξουσι. 
+
+44. Καὶ θέλων δὲ τούτων πέρι σαφές τι εἰδέναι 
+ἐξ ὧν οἷόν τε ἣν, ἔπλευσα καὶ ἐς Τύρον τῆς 
+
+
+428 
+
+
+BOOK II. 42-44 
+
+
+they bring an image of Heracles near to it. Having 
+done this, all that are about the temple mourn for 
+the ram, and presently bury it in a sacred coffer. 
+
+43, Concerning Heracles, I heard it said that he 
+was one of the twelve gods. But I could nowhere in 
+Egypt hear anything concerning the other Heracles, 
+whom the Greeks know. I have indeed many proofs 
+. that the name of Heracles did not come from Hellas 
+to Egypt, but from Egypt to Hellas (and in Hellas 
+to those Greeks who gave the name Heracles to the 
+son of Amphitryon); and this is the chief among 
+them—that Amphitryon and Alcmene, the parents 
+of this Heracles, were both by descent Egyptian ;! 
+and that the Egyptians deny knowledge of the names 
+of Poseidon and the Dioscuri, nor are these gods 
+reckoned among the gods of Egypt. Yet had they 
+got the name of any deity from the Greeks, it was 
+these more than any that they were like to remember, 
+if indeed they were already making sea voyages and 
+the Greeks too had seafaring men, as I suppose and ' 
+judge; so that the names of these gods would have 
+been even better known to the Egyptians than the 
+name of Heracles. Nay, Heracles is a very ancient 
+god in Egypt ; as the Egyptians themselves say, the 
+change of the eight gods to the twelve, of whom 
+they deem Heracles one, was made seventeen 
+thousand years before the reign of Amasis. 
+
+44. Moreover, wishing to get clear knowledge of 
+this matter whence it was possible so to do, I took 
+
+
+1 rie grandchildren of Perseus, for whose Egyptian origin 
+see 91. ; 
+
+
+329 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Φοινίκης, πυνθανόμενος αὐτόθι εἶναι ἱρὸν 'Hpa- 
+κλέος ἅγιον, καὶ εἶδον πλουσίως κατεσκευασμένον 
+ἄλλοισί τε πολλοῖσι ἀναθήμασι, καὶ ἐν αὐτῷ 
+ἦσαν στῆλαι δύο, ἣ μὲν χρυσοῦ ἀπέφθου, ἣ δὲ 
+σμαράγδου λίθου λάμποντος τὰς νύκτας μέγαθος. 
+ἐς λόγους δὲ ἐλθὼν τοῖσι ἱρεῦσι τοῦ θεοῦ εἰρόμην 
+ὁκόσος χρόνος εἴη ἐξ οὗ σφι τὸ ἱρὸν ἵδρυται. 
+εὗρον δὲ οὐδὲ τούτους τοῖσι "Ελλησι συµφερο- 
+μένους’ ἔφασαν γὰρ ἅμα Τύρῳ οἰκιζομένη καὶ τὸ 
+ἱρὸν τοῦ θεοῦ ἱδρυθῆναι, εἶναι δὲ ἔτεα ἀπ᾽ οὗ 
+Τύρον οἰκέουσι τριηκόσια καὶ δισχίλια. εἶδον δὲ 
+ἐν τῇ Τύρῳ καὶ ἄλλο ἱρὸν "Ἡρακλέος ἐπωνυμίην 
+ἔχοντος Θασίου εἶναι" ἀπικόμην δὲ καὶ ἐς Θάσον, 
+ἐν τῇ εὗρον ἱρὸν Ἡρακλέος ὑπὸ Φοινίκων ἱδρυ- 
+μένον, ot κατ᾽ Εὐρώπης ζήτησιν ἐκπλώσαντες 
+Θάσον ἔκτισαν: καὶ ταῦτα καὶ πέντε yevence 
+ἀνδρῶν πρότερα ἐστὶ ἢ τὸν ᾿Αμϕιτρύωνος ‘Hpa- 
+κλέα ἐν τῇ Ἑλλάδι γενέσθαι. τὰ μέν νυν ἱστο- 
+pnuéva δηλοῖ σαφέως παλαιὸν θεὸν ᾿Ἡρακλέα 
+ἐόντα, καὶ δοκέουσι δέ μοι οὗτοι ὀρθότατα 
+Ἑλλήνων ποιέειν, of διξὰ "Ἡράκλεια ἱδρυσάμενοι 
+ἔκτηνται, καὶ τῷ μὲν ὡς ἀθανάτῳ Ὀλυμπίῳ 
+δὲ ἐπωνυμίην θύουσι, τῷ δὲ ἑτέρῳ ὡς ἥρωι 
+ἐναγίζουσι. 
+
+4δ. Λέγουσι δὲ πολλὰ καὶ ἄλλα ἀνεπισκέπτως 
+οἱ Ἕλληνες, εὐήθης δὲ αὐτῶν καὶ ὅδε ὁ μῦθος ἐστὶ 
+τὸν περὶ τοῦ “Ἡρακλέος λέγουσι, ὡς αὐτὸν ἀπι- 
+κόμενον ἐς Αἴγυπτον στέψαντες οἱ Αἰγύπτιοι ὑπὸ 
+πομπῆς ἐξῆγον ὡς θύσοντες τῷ Διί: τὸν δὲ τέως 
+μὲν ἡσυχίην ἔχειν, ἐπεὶ δὲ αὐτοῦ πρὸς τῷ βωμῷ 
+
+
+1 The Tyrian god Melkart. 
+330 
+
+
+BOOK II. 44-45 
+
+
+ship to Tyre in Phoenice, where I heard that there 
+wasa very holy temple of Heracles. There I saw it, 
+richly equipped with many other offerings, besides 
+- that in it there were two pillars, one of refined gold, 
+one of emerald, a great pillar that shone in the 
+night-time ; and in converse with the priests I asked 
+how long it was since their temple was built. I 
+found that neither did their account tally with the 
+belief of the Greeks ; for they said that the temple of 
+the god was founded when Tyre first became a city, 
+and that was two thousand three hundred years since. 
+At Tyre I saw yet another temple of that Heracles 
+called the Thasian. Then I went to Thasos, too, where 
+_ I found a temple of Heracles built by the Phoenicians, 
+who made a settlement there when they voyaged in 
+search of Europe ; now they did so as much as five 
+generations before the birth in Hellas of Heracles 
+the son of Amphitryon. Therefore, what I have 
+discovered by inquiry plainly shows that Heracles is 
+anancient god. And further: those Greeks, I think, 
+are most in the right, who have established and 
+practise two worships of Heracles, sacrificing to one 
+Heracles as to an immortal, and calling him the 
+Olympian, but to the other bringing offerings as to a 
+dead hero.? 
+. 45. But among the many ill-considered tales told 
+by the Greeks, this is a very foolish story which they 
+relate about Heracles—how when he came to Egypt 
+the Egyptians crowned him and led him out ina 
+procession to sacrifice him to Zeus; and for a while 
+(they say) he followed quietly, but when they began 
+2 There is a dual Heracles in the Odyssey, xi. 601 seqq. 
+An εἴδωλον of him is seen in the world of the dead; but 
+** he himself” is an immortal among the gods of heaven. 
+
+
+VOL. I. N 331 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+κατάρχοντο, ἐς ἀλκὴν τραπόμενον πάντας. σφέας 
+καταφονεῦσαι. ἐμοὶ μέν νυν δοκέουσι ταῦτα λέ- 
+
+
+Ύοντες τῆς Αἰγυπτίων]. δύσιας Ἰκαὶ [τῶν νόμων | 
+οἱ 
+
+
+πάμπαν ἀπείρως ἔχειν wes τοῖσι γὰρ 
+οὐδὲ κτήνεα ὅση θύειν ἐστὶ χωρὶς ὑῶν καὶ ἐρσένων 
+βοῶν καὶ μόσχων, ὅσοι ἂν καθαροὶ ἔωσι, καὶ 
+χηνῶν, KOS ἂν οὗτοι ἀνθρώπους θύοιεν; ἔτι δὲ 
+ἕνα ἐόντα τὸν Ἡρακλέα καὶ ἔτι ἄνθρωπον, ὡς δὴ 
+φασί, κῶς φύσιν ἔχει πολλὰς μυριάδας φονεῦσαι; 
+καὶ περὶ μὲν τούτων τοσαῦτα ἡμῖν εἰποῦσι καὶ 
+παρὰ τῶν θεῶν καὶ παρὰ τῶν ἡρώων εὐμενείη εἴη. 
+
+46. Τὰς δὲ δὴ αἶγας καὶ τοὺς τράγους τῶνδε 
+εἵνεκα οὐ θύουσι Αἰγυπτίων οἱ εἰρημένοι: τὸν 
+Πᾶνα τῶν ὀκτὼ θεῶν λογίξονται εἶναι οἱ Μενδή- 
+σιοι, τοὺς δὲ ὀκτὼ θεοὺς τούτους προτέρους τῶν 
+δυώδεκα θεῶν φασι γενέσθαι. γράφουσί τε δὴ 
+καὶ γλύφουσι οἱ ἑωγράφοι καὶ οἱ ἀγαλματοποιοὶ 
+τοῦ Π]ανὸς τῶγαλμα κατά περ Ἕλληνες αἰγοπρό- 
+σωπον καὶ τραγοσκελέα, οὔτι τοιοῦτον νομίξοντες 
+εἶναί μιν ἀλλὰ ὁμοῖον τοῖσι ἄλλοισι θεοῖσι: ὅτευ 
+δὲ εἵνεκα τοιοῦτον γράφουσι αὐτόν, οὔ μοι ἥδιον 
+ἐστὶ λέγειν. σέβονται δὲ πάντας τοὺς αἶγας οἱ 
+Μενδήσιοι, καὶ μάλλον τοὺς ἔρσενας τῶν θηλέων, 
+καὶ τούτων οἱ αἰπόλοι τιμὰς μέξονας ἔχουσι' ἐκ δὲ 
+τούτων ἕνα μάλιστα, ὅστις ἐπεὰν ἀποθάνῃ, πένθος 
+μέγα παντὶ τῷ Μενδησίῳ νομῷ τίθεται. καλέεται 
+δὲ ὅ ,9 τε τράγος καὶ o Ἠὰν Αἰγυπτιστὶ Μένδης. 
+ἐγένετο δὲ ἐν τῷ νομῷ τούτῳ ἐπ᾽ ἐμεῦ τοῦτο τὸ 
+τέρας" γυναικὶ τράγος ἐμίσγετο ἀναφανδόν. τοῦτο 
+ἐς ἐπίδεξιν ἀνθρώπων d ἀπίκετο. 
+
+4T. Ὕν δὲ Αἰγύπτιοι μιαρὸν ἥγηνται θηρίον 
+εἶναι, καὶ τοῦτο μὲν ἤν τις ᾿γαύσῃ αὐτῶν παριὼν 
+
+
+332 
+
+
+BOOK IL. 45-47 
+
+
+the first rites of sacrifice upon him at the altar, he 
+resisted and slew them all. Now it seems to me 
+that by this story the Greeks show themselves wholly 
+ignorant of the character and customs of the 
+Egyptians ; for how should they sacrifice men, who 
+are forbidden to sacrifice even the lower animals, 
+save only swine and bulls and bull-calves, if they be 
+unblemished, and geese? Moreover, Heracles being 
+alone, and still but a man, as they say, how is it 
+natural that he should slay a countless multitude ? 
+So much I say of this matter; may no god or hero 
+be displeased with me therefor ! 
+
+46. This is the reason why the Egyptians of whom ` 
+I have spoken sacrifice no goats, male or female: 
+the Mendesians reckon Pan among the eight gods, 
+who, they say, were before the twelve gods. Now 
+in their painting and sculpture the image of Pan is 
+made as among the Greeks with the bead and the 
+legs of a goat; not that he is deemed to be in truth 
+such, or unlike to other gods; but why they so 
+present him I have no wish to say. The Mendesians 
+hold all goats sacred, the male even more than the 
+female, and goatherds are held in especial honour: 
+one he-goat is most sacred of all; when he dies 
+it is ordained that there should be great mourning 
+in all the Mendesian province. In the Egyptian 
+language Mendes is the name both for the he-goat 
+and for Pan. In my lifetime a monstrous thing 
+happened in this province, a woman having open in- 
+tercourse with a he- goat. This came to be publicly 
+known. 
+
+47. Swine are heid by the Egyptians to be unclean 
+beasts. Firstly, if an Egyptian touch a hog in 
+
+
+333 
+
+
+ber 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+UOS, αὐτοῖσι τοῖσι ἱματίοισι aT ὧν ἔβαψε € ἑωυτὸν 
+Bas ἐς τὸν ποταμόν' τοῦτο δὲ οἱ συβῶται ἐόντες 
+Αἰγύπτιοι ἐγγενέες ἐς ἱρὸν οὐδὲν τῶν ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ 
+ἐσέρχονται μοῦνοι πάντων, οὐδέ σφι ἐκδίδοσθαι 
+οὐδεὶς θυγατέρα ἐθέλει οὐδ' ἄγεσθαι ἐξ αὐτῶν, 
+ἀλλ᾽ ἐκδίδονταύ τε οἱ συβῶται καὶ ἄγονται ἐξ 
+ἀλλήλων. τοῖσι μέν νυν ἄλλοισι θεοῖσι θύειν ὃς 
+ov δικαιεῦσι Αἰγύπτιοι, Σελήνῃ δὲ καὶ Διονύσω 
+μούνοισι τοῦ αὐτοῦ χρόνου, τῇ αὐτῇ πανσελήνῳ, 
+τοὺς bs, θύσαντες πατέονται τῶν κρεῶν. διότι 
+δὲ τοὺς ὑς ἐν μὲν τῇσι ἄλλῃσι ὁρτῇσι ἀπεστυγή- 
+κασι ἐν δὲ ταύτῃ θύουσι, ἔστι μὲν λόγος περὶ 
+αὐτοῦ ὑπ᾽ Αἰγυπτίων λεγόμενος, ἐμοὶ μέντοι ἐπι- 
+σταμένῳ οὐκ εὐπρεπέστερος ἐ ἐστὶ λέγεσθαι. θυσίη 
+δὲ ἥδε τῶν ὑῶν τῇ Σελήνῃ ποιέεται" ἐπεὰν 
+θύσῃ, τὴν οὐρὴν ἄκρην καὶ τὸν σπλῆνα καὶ τὸν 
+ἐπίπλοον συνθεὶς ὁμοῦ κατ᾿ ὧν ἐκάλυψε πάσῃ 
+τοῦ κτήνεος τῇ πιμελῇ τῇ περὶ τὴν νηδὺν γινομένῃ, 
+καὶ ἔπειτα καταγίζει πυρί- τὰ δὲ ἄλλα κρέα 
+σιτέονται ἐν τῇ πανσελήνῳ ἐν τῇ ἂν τὰ ἱρὰ 
+θύσωσι, ἐ ἐν ἄλλῃ δὲ ἡμέρῃ οὐκ ἂν ἔτι γευσαίατο. 
+
+
+οἱ δὲ πένητες αὐτῶν ὑπ᾽ ἀσθενείης βίου σταιτίνας 
+
+
+πλάσαντες US καὶ ὁπτήσαντες ταύτας θύουσι. 
+48. Τῷ δὲ Διονύσῳ τῆς ὁρτῆς τῇ δορπίῃ χοῖρον 
+πρὸ τῶν θυρέων. σφάξας ἕκαστος διδοῖ aro- 
+
+
+| φέρεσθαι τὸν .Χοῖρον | αὐτῷ τῷ ἀποδομένῳ τῶν 
+
+
+συβωτέων. τὴν δὲ ἄλλην ἀνάγουσι ὁρτὴν τῷ 
+Διονύσῳ οἱ Αἰγύπτιοι πλὴν χορῶν κατὰ ταὐτὰ 
+σχεδὸν πάντα Ἓλλησι: ἀντὶ δὲ φαλλῶν ἄλλα 
+σφι ἐστὶ ἐξευρημένα, € ὅσον τε πηχναῖα ἀγάλματα 
+νευρόσπαστα, τὰ περιφορέουσι κατὰ κώμας γυ- 
+ναῖκες, νεῦον τὸ αἰδοῖον, οὐ πολλῷ τεῳ ἔλασσον 
+
+
+334 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΙ. 47-48 
+
+
+passing by, he goes to the river and dips himself in 
+it, clothed as he is ; and secondly, swineherds, native 
+born Egyptians though they be, are alone of all men 
+forbidden to enter any Egyptian temple ; nor will any 
+give a swineherd his daughter in marriage, nor take 
+a wife from their women; but swineherds intermarry 
+among themselves. Nor dothe Egyptians think right 
+to sacrifice swine to any god save the Moon and 
+Dionysus ; to these they sacrifice their swine at the 
+same time, in the same season of full moon ; then 
+they eat ofthe flesh. The Egyptians have an account 
+of the reason why they sacrifice swine at this festival, 
+yet abominate them at others; I know it, but it is 
+not fitting that I should relate it. But this is how 
+they sacrifice swine to the Moon: the sacrificer lays 
+the end of the tail and the spleen and the caul 
+together and covers them up with all the fat that he 
+finds about the belly, then burns all with fire; as for | 
+the rest of the flesh, they eat it at the time of full 
+moon when they sacrifice the victim; but they will 
+not taste it on any other day. Poor men, having but 
+slender means, mould swine of dough, which they 
+then bake and sacrifice. 
+
+48. To Dionysus, on the evening of his festival, 
+everyone offers a porker which he kills before his 
+door and then gives to the swineherd himself who 
+has sold it, for him to take away. The rest of the 
+festival of Dionysus is ordered by the Egyptians 
+much as it is by the Greeks, except for the dances; 
+but in place of the phallus they have invented the 
+use of puppets a cubit long moved by strings, which 
+are carried about the villages by women, the male 
+member moving and near as big as the rest of the 
+
+
+335 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐὸν τοῦ ἄλλου σώµατος' προηγέεται δὲ αὐλός, al 
+δὲ ἕπονται ἀείδουσαι τὸν Διόνυσον. διότι δὲ μέξον 
+τε ἔχει τὸ αἰδοῖον καὶ κινέει μοῦνον τοῦ σώματος, 
+ἔστι λόγος περὶ αὐτοῦ ἱρὸς λεγόμενος. 
+
+49. Ἤδη àv δοκέει μοι Μελάμπους ὁ 0 ᾿Αμυθέωνος 
+τῆς θυσίης ταύτης οὐκ εἶναι ἀδαὴς. ἀλλ᾽ ἔμπειρος. 
+Ἕλλησι γὰρ δὴ Μελάμπους ἐστὶ ὁ ἐξηγησάμενος 
+τοῦ Διονύσου τό τε οὔνομα καὶ τὴν θυσίην͵ καὶ 
+τὴν πομπὴν τοῦ parrot ἀτρεκέως μὲν οῦ πάντα 
+συλλαβὼν τὸν λόγον ἔφηνε, ἀλλ᾽ οἱ ἐπιγενόμενοι 
+τούτῳ σοφισταὶ μεξόνως ἐξέφηναν" τὸν δ᾽ ὧν 
+φαλλὸν τὸν τῷ Διονύσῳ πεμπόμενον Μελάμπους 
+ἐστὶ ὁ κατηγησάμενος, καὶ ἀπὸ τούτου μαθόντες 
+ποιεῦσι τὰ ποιεῦσι "Ελληνες. ἐγὼ μέν νυν φημὶ 
+Μελάμποδα γενόμενον ἄνδρα σοφὸν μαντικήν τε 
+ἑωυτῷ συστῆσαι καὶ πυθόμενον ἀπ᾽ Αἰγύπτου 
+ἄλλα τε πολλὰ ἐσηγήσασθαι ' Ἕλλησι καὶ τὰ 
+περὶ | τὸν Διόνυσον, ὀλίγα αὐτῶν παραλλάξαντα. 
+οὐ γὰρ δὴ συμπεσεῖν γε pioa τά τε ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ 
+ποιεύμενα τῷ θεῷ καὶ τὰ ἐν τοῖσι "Ελλησι' ὁμό- 
+Tpoma γὰρ ἂν ἦν τοῖσι Ἓλλησι, καὶ οὐ νεωστὶ 
+ἐσηγμένα. ov μὲν οὐδὲ pow ὅκως Αἰγύπτιοι 
+παρ᾽ Ἑλλήνων ἔλαβον ἢ τοῦτο ἢ ἄλλο κού τι 
+νόμαιον. πυθέσθαι δέ μοι δοκέει μάλιστα Με- 
+λάμπους τὰ περὶ τὸν Διόνυσον παρὰ Κάδµου τε 
+τοῦ Τυρίου καὶ τῶν σὺν αὐτῷ ἐκ Φοινίκης ἀπικο- 
+μένων ἐς τὴν νῦν Βοιωτίην καλεομένην χώρην. 
+
+50. Σχεδὸν δὲ καὶ πάντων τὰ οὐνόματα τῶν θεῶν 
+ἐξ Αἰγύπτου ἐλήλυθε ἐς τὴν Ἑλλάδα. διότι μὲν 
+γὰρ ἐκ τῶν βαρβάρων, ἥκει, πυνθανόμενος οὕτω 
+εὑρίσκω ἐόν' δοκέω δ᾽ ὧν μάλιστα ἀπ᾽ Αἰγύπτου 
+ἀπῖχθαι. ὅτι γὰρ δὴ μὴ Ποσειδέωνος καὶ Διοσ- 
+
+
+336 
+
+
+BOOK II. 48-50 
+
+
+body; a flute-player goes before, the women follow 
+after, singing of Dionysus. There is a sacred legend 
+which gives the reason for the appearance and 
+motions of these puppets. 
+
+49. Now, this being so, it seems to me that 
+Melampus son of Amytheon was not ignorant but 
+had attained knowledge of this sacrifice. For it 
+was Melampus who taught the Greeks the name of 
+Dionysus, and the way of sacrificing to him, and the 
+phallic procession; I would not in strictness say that 
+he showed them completely the whole matter, for 
+the later teachers added somewhat to his showing; 
+but it was from him that the Greeks learnt to 
+bear the phallus along in honour of Dionysus, 
+and they got their present practice from his teach- 
+ing. I think, then, that Melampus showed himself 
+a clever man, in that he had acquired the prophetic 
+art, and in his teaching of the worship of Dionysus, 
+besides much else, came from Egypt with but slight 
+change; for I will not admit that it is a chance 
+agreement between the Egyptian ritual of Dionysus 
+and the Greek; for were that so, the Greek ritual 
+would be of a Greek nature and not but lately 
+introduced. Nor yet will I hold that the Egyptians 
+took either this or any other custom from the Greeks, 
+But I believe that Melampus learnt the worship of 
+Dionysus chiefly from Cadmus of Tyre and those who 
+came with Cadmus from Phoenice to the land now 
+called Boeotia. 
+
+50. Indeed, wellnigh all the names of the gods 
+came to Hellas from Egypt. For I am assured by 
+inquiry that they have come from foreign parts, and 
+I believe that they came chiefly from Egypt. Except 
+the names of Poseidon and the Dioscuri, as I have 
+
+
+337 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+A 
+^ ν καὶ 
+tans αυτα εἰρηται, 
+ov pot T s 
+κούρων, ὡς καὶ edis e gue Χαρίτων καὶ 
+Ἡρης καὶ a o» θεῶν Adve, αἰεί KOTE 
+ee λέγω δὲ τὰ λέγουσι 
+τὰ οὐνόματα ἐστὶ ἐν τη x Py φασι θεῶν γινώσκειν 
+αὐτοὶ Αἰγύπτιοι. Κυ - Boxéaumt lor) Πελασ- 
+ΔΛ; Mx» Ποσειδέωνος' τοῦτον δὲ 
+y) M 
+γῶν ὀνομασθῆναι, πλῆν | ύθοντο' οὐδαμοὶ ME 
+τὸν θεὸν παρ A οὔνομα ἔκτηνται € μι 
+; αἱ τιμῶσι τὸν θεὸν το "Bé 
+Λίβυες κ > » 3099 e WOL ουὸεγν. 
+^2 Lot OUO NP , a 
+ζουσι © ὧν Avyurr αἱ ἄλλα πρὸς τούτοισι, T 
+A ’ z 
+δ]. Ταῦτα pev νυν καὶ Αἰγυπτίων νενομίκασ t 
+ἐγὼ φράσω, Ἕλληνες ἀπ nue γον τὰ ators 
+» 
+τοῦ δὲ ᾿Ερμέω τὰ ἀγάλματα Ρ εµαθήκασι, ἀλλ. 
+ὄντες οὐκ ἀπ ώς... ν ἁπάντων 
+ποιευ A A èy 4 NVW 
+y domi ο... 
+^ ντε ` 
+᾿Αθηναῖοι μεν : τηνικαῦτα ἐς "Ἕλληνας τε 
+᾿Αθηναίοισι γὰρ ἤ ν οι ἐγένοντο ἐν τῇ χώρῃ, 
+s Πελασγοὶ σύνοικ Oat. Borie 
+λέουσι ye ἤρξαντο νομισθῆνα É 
+ὅθεν περ καὶ Έλληνες fjp ónrar τὸ Ἑάμοθρήικὲς 
+δὲ τὰ Καβείρων ρα ΕΕ παρὰ eV., οὗτος 
+ολο. icd E Σαμοθρηίκην οἴκεον 
+ὑνὴρ οἶδε τὸ λέγω: τὴν γὰρ ἵ περ ᾿Αθηναίοισι 
+mis Πελασγοὶ οὗτοι ot περ ημας 
+MPO TEPON: “βλαστός. i τούτων Σαμοθρήικ S 
+Ζ 1 0, καὶ παρᾶ 4 ^w à 
+σύνοικοι ἐγένοντο, βάνουσι. ὀρθὰ ὧν ἔχειν τ 
+a © 2 ^ 
+τὰ ὄργια maparaan Ἑρμέω "Αθηναῖοι πρῶτοι 
+αἰδοῖα τἀγάλματα τοῦ Πελασγῶν ἐποιήσαντο 
+ε , θόντες παρὰ XE MN. ἔλεξαν 
+Ἑλλήνων pa «ρον Twa λόγον περὶ ο ος , 
+οἱ δὲ Πελασγοὶ ἱρόν τινι υστηρίοισι δεδήλωται. 
+v τοῖσι ἐν Σαμοθρηίκῃ p , Πελασγοὶ 
+τὰ ἐν τοῖσ tyra πρότερον οἱ HeAaao 
+deni δ πάτο D Reli ee imi 
+θεοῖσι ἐπευχόμενοι, ὡς ἐγ 
+
+
+338 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΙ. so-s2 
+
+
+already said, and Here, and Hestia, and Themis, and 
+
+
+the Graces and the Nereids, the names of all the 
+gods have ever existed in Egypt. I say but what the 
+Egyptians themselves say. The gods whose names 
+they say they do not know were, as I think, named 
+by the Pelasgians, save only Poseidon, of whom they 
+learnt the knowledge from the Libyans. Alone of 
+all nations the Libyans have had among them the 
+name of Poseidon from the first, and they have ever 
+honoured this god. The Egyptians, however, are 
+
+
+not accustomed to pay any honours to heroes, 
+
+
+51. These customs then and others besides, which 
+I shall show, were taken by the Greeks from the 
+Egyptians. It was not so with the ithyphallic images 
+of Hermes; the making of these came from the 
+Pelasgians, from whom the Athenians were the first 
+of all Greeks to take it, and then handed it oh to 
+others. For the Athenians were then already 
+counted as Greeks when the Pelasgians came to 
+dwell in the land with them, and thereby began 
+to be considered as Greeks. Whoever has been 
+initiated into the rites of the Cabeiri, which the 
+Samothracians learnt from the Pelasgians and now 
+practice, he understands what my meaning is. 
+Samothrace was formerly inhabited by those Pelas- 
+gians who came to dwell among the Athenians, and 
+it is from them that the Samothracians take their 
+rites. The Athenians, then, were the first Greeks to 
+make ithyphallic images of Hermes, and this they 
+did because the Pelasgians taught them. The 
+Pelasgians told a certain sacred tale about this, which 
+is set forth in the Samothracian mysteries. 
+
+52. Formerly, in all their sacrifices, the Pelasgians 
+called upon gods (this I know, for I was told at 
+
+
+339 
+
+
+INT 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+cas, ἐπωνυμίην δὲ οὐδ οὔνομα ἐποιεῦντο οὐδενὶ 
+αὐτῶν" οὐ γὰρ ἆ ἀκηκόεσάν κω. θεοὺς δὲ προσω- 
+νόμασαν σφέας ἀπὸ τοῦ τοιούτου, ὅτι κόσμῳ 
+θέντες τὰ πάντα πρήγματα καὶ πάσας νομὰς 
+εἶχον. ἔπειτα δὲ χρόνου πολλοῦ διεξελθόντος 
+ἐπύθοντο ἐκ τῆς Αἰγύπτου ἆ ἀπικόμενα τὰ οὐνόματα 
+τῶν θεῶν τῶν ἄλλων, Διονύσου δὲ ὕστερον πολλῷ 
+ἐπύθοντο. καὶ μετὰ χρόνον ἐχρηστηριάζοντο 
+περὶ τῶν οὐνομάτων « ἐν Δωδώνῃ' τὸ γὰρ δὴ μαντήιον 
+τοῦτο νενόμισται ἀρχαιότατον τῶν ἐν "Ἕλλησι 
+χρηστηρίων εἶναι, καὶ ἣν τὸν χρόνον ' τοῦτον μοῦ- 
+νον. ἐπεὶ ὦ ὧν ἐ ρηστηριάξοντο ἐν τῇ Δωδώνῃ οἱ 
+Πελασγοὶ e ἀνέλωνται τὰ οὐνόματα τὰ ἀπὸ τῶν 
+βαρβάρων ἥκοντα, ἀνεῖλε τὸ μαντήιον χρᾶσθαι. 
+ἀπὸ μὲν δὴ τούτου τοῦ χρόνου ἔθυον τοῖσι οὐνόμασι 
+τῶν θεῶν χρεώμενοι" παρὰ δὲ Πελασγῶν "Γλληνες 
+ἐξεδέξαντο ὕ ὕστερον. 
+
+53. Ἔνθεν δὲ ἐ ἐγένοντο ἕκαστος τῶν θεῶν, eire 
+aiel ἦσαν πάντες, ὁκοῖοί τε τινὲς τὰ εἴδεα, οὐκ 
+ἠπιστέατο μέχρι οὗ πρώην τε καὶ χθὲς d ὡς εἰπεῖν 
+λόγῳ. Hetabon γὸ γὰρ καὶ "Όμηρον ἡλικίην τετρα- 
+κοσίοισι ἔτεσι δοκέω μευ πρεσβυτέρους γενέσθαι 
+καὶ οὐ πλέοσι". οὗτοι δὲ εἰσὶ οἱ ποιήσαντες θεο- 
+γονίην Ἕλλησι καὶ τοῖσι θεοῖσι τὰς ἐπωνυμίας 
+δόντες καὶ τιμάς τε καὶ τέχνας διελόντες καὶ εἴδεα 
+αὐτῶν σημήναντες. οἱ δὲ πρότερον. ποιηταὶ λεγό- 
+
+evor τούτων τῶν ἀνδρῶν γενέσθαι ὗ ὕστερον, ἔμοιγε 
+
+κέειν, ἐγένοντο. τούτων τὰ μὲν πρῶτα αἱ Δωδω- 
+νίδες ἱ ἱρεῖαι λέγουσι, τὰ δὲ ὕστερα τὰ ἐς Ἡσίοδόν 
+τε καὶ Όμηρον ἔ ἔχοντα ἐγὼ λέγω. 
+
+54. Χρηστηρίων δὲ πέρι τοῦ τε ἐν Ἕλλησι καὶ 
+
+
+340 
+
+
+BOOK II. 52-54 
+
+
+Dodona) without giving name or appellation to 
+any; for they had not as yet heard of such. They 
+called them gods! because all things and the due 
+assignment thereof were by them set in order. 
+Then, after a long while, they learnt the names first 
+of the rest of the gods, which came to them from 
+Egypt, and, much later, the name of Dionysus; and 
+presently they inquired of the oracle at Dodona 
+concerning the names; for this place of divination is 
+held to be the most ancient in Hellas, and at that 
+time it was the only one. When the Pelasgians, 
+then, inquired at Dodona if they should adopt the 
+names that had come from foreign parts, the’ oracle 
+bade them use the names. From that time on- 
+wards they used the names of the gods in their 
+sacrifices ; and the Greeks received these later from 
+the Pelasgians. 
+
+53. But whence each of the gods came into being, 
+or whether they had all for ever existed, and what 
+outward forms they had, the Greeks knew not till (so 
+to say) a very little while ago; for I suppose that the. 
+time of Hesiod and Homer was not more than four 
+hundred years before my own; and these are they 
+who taught the Greeks of the descent of the gods, 
+and gave to all their several names, and honours, 
+and arts, and declared their outward forms. But 
+those poets who are said to be older than Hesiod 
+and Homer were, to my thinking, of later birth. 
+The earlier part of all this is what the priestesses of 
+Dodona tell; the later, that which concerns Hesiod 
+and Homer, is what I myself say. 
+
+54. But as concerning the oracles in Hellas, and 
+
+
+1 On the supposition that θεός meant “a disposer,” 
+connected with θεσμός, τίθημι, ete. 
+
+
+341 
+
+
+her 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τοῦ ἐν Λιβύῃ τόνδε Αἰγύπτιοι λόγον λέγουσι. 
+ἔφασαν οἱ ἱρέες τοῦ Θηβαιέος Διὸς δύο γυναῖκας 
+(petas. ἐκ Θηβέων ἐξαχθῆναι ὑπὸ Φοινίκων, καὶ 
+τὴν μὲν αὐτέων πυθέσθαι ἐς Λιβύην πρηθεῖσαν τὴν 
+δὲ ἐς τοὺς "Ελληνας: ταύτας δὲ τὰς γυναῖκας 
+εἶναι τὰς ἱδρυσαμένας τὰ µαντήια πρώτας ἐν τοῖσι 
+εἰρημένοισι . ἔθνεσι. εὑρομένου δέ pev ὁκόθεν οὕτω 
+ἀτρεκέως ἐπιστάμενοι λέγουσι, ἔφασαν πρὸς 
+ταῦτα ζήτησιν μεγάλην ἀπὸ σφέων γενέσθαι. τῶν 
+γυναικῶν τουτέων, καὶ ἀνευρεῖν μὲν σφέας οὐ òv- 
+νατοὶ γενέσθαι, πυθέσθαι δὲ ὕστερον ταῦτα περὶ 
+αὐτέων τά περ δὴ ἔλεγον. 
+
+55. Ταῦτα μέν νυν τῶν ἐν Θήβῃσι ἱρέων ἤκουον, 
+τάδε δὲ Δωδωναίων φασὶ αἱ προμάντιες' δύο TE- 
+λειάδας μελαίνας ἐκ Θηβέων τῶν Αἰγυπτιέων 
+ἀναπταμένας τὴν μὲν αὐτέων ἐς Λιβύην τὴν δὲ 
+παρὰ σφέας ἀπικέσθαι, ἱξομένην δέ μιν ἐπὶ φηγὸν 
+αὐδάξασθαι φωνῇ ἀνθρωπηίῃ ὡς .χρεὸν εἴη μαν- 
+τήιον αὐτόθι Διὸς γενέσθαι, καὶ αὐτοὺς ὑπολαβεῖν 
+θεῖον εἶναι τὸ ἐπαγγελλόμενον αὐτοῖσι, καί σφεας 
+ἐκ τούτου ποιῆσαι. τὴν δὲ ἐς τοὺς Λίβυας oi Xa- 
+μένην πελειάδα λέγουσι 'Άμμωνος χρηστήριον 
+κελεῦσαι τοὺς Λίβυας ποιέειν' ἔστι δὲ καὶ τοῦτο 
+Διός. Δωδωναίων δὲ αἱ ἱρεῖαι, τῶν τῇ πρεσβυ- 
+τάτῃ οὔνομα ἦν Ἡρομένεια, τῇ δὲ μετὰ ταύτην 
+Τιμαρέτη, τῇ δὲ νεωτάτῃ Νικάνδρη, ἔλεγον ταῦτα 
+συνωμολόγεον δέ σφι καὶ οἱ ἄλλοι Δωδωναῖοι οἱ 
+περὶ τὸ ἱρὸν. | 
+
+56. ᾿Εγὼ δ᾽ ἔχω περὶ αὐτῶν γνώμην τήνδε" εἰ 
+ἀληθέως οἱ Φοίνικες ἐξήγαγον τὰς ἱρὰς γυναῖκας 
+καὶ τὴν μὲν αὐτέων ἐς Λιβύην τὴν δὲ ἐς τὴν 
+Ἐλλάδα ἀπέδοντο, δοκέει ἐμοί ἡ γυνὴ αὕτη τῆς 
+
+
+342 
+
+
+BOOK II. 54-56 
+
+
+that one which is in Libya, this is the account given 
+by the Egyptians. The priests of Zeus of Thebes 
+told me that two priestesses had been carried away 
+from Thebes by Phoenicians; one of them (so, they 
+said, they had learnt) was taken away and sold in 
+Libya, and the other in Hellas; these women, they 
+said, were the first founders of places of divination in 
+the countries aforesaid. When I asked them how it 
+was that they could speak with so certain knowledge, 
+they said in reply that their peopJe had sought dili- 
+gently for these women, and had never been able to 
+find them, but had learnt later the tale which was 
+now told to me. 
+
+55. That, then, I heard from the Theban priests ; 
+and what follows, is told by the prophetesses of 
+Dodona: to wit, that two black doves had come flying 
+from Thebes in Egypt, one to Libya and one to 
+Dodona; this last settled on an oak tree, and uttered 
+there human speech, declaring that there must be 
+there a place of divination from Zeus; the people of 
+Dodona understood that the message was divine, and 
+therefore they established the oracular shrine. The 
+dove which came to Libya bade the Libyans (so they 
+say) to make an oracle of Ammon; this also is sacred 
+to Zeus. Such was the tale told by the Dodonaean 
+priestesses, of whom the eldest was Promeneia and 
+the next in age Timarete, and the youngest Nicandra ;. 
+and the rest of the servants of the temple at Dodona 
+likewise held it true. B 
+
+56. But this is my own belief about it. If the 
+Phoenicians did in truth carry away the sacred 
+women and. sell one in Libya and one in Hellas, then 
+to my thinking the part of what is now Hellas~tvet 
+
+
+343 
+
+
+- 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+νῦν Ἑλλάδος, πρότερον δὲ Πελασγύ)ς καλευμένης 
+τῆς αὐτῆς ταύτης, πρηθῆναι ἐς Θεσπρωτούς, 
+» , > 0 Ι ὃ z 0 € N ^ 
+ἔπειτα δουλεύουσα αὐτόθι ἱδρύσασθαι ὑπὸ φηγῷ 
+, e UN / [1d 9 $ Ἃ , ΄ 
+πεφυκυίη ἱρὸν Atos, ὥσπερ ἣν οἰκὸς ἀμφιπολεύου- 
+3 β ’ € oN ’ » , , 9 ^ 
+σαν ἐν Θήβῃσι ἱρὸν Διός, ἔνθα ἀπίκετο, ἐνθαῦτα 
+μνήμην αὐτοῦ ἔχειν ἐκ δὲ τούτου χρηστήριον 
+κατηγήσατο, ἐπείτε συνέλαβε τὴν ᾿Ελλάδα γλῶσ- 
+cav: φάναι δέ οἱ ἀδελφεὴν ἐν Λιβύῃ πεπρῆσθαι 
+ὑπὸ τῶν αὐτῶν Φοινίκων ὑπ᾽ ὧν καὶ αὐτὴ ἐπρήθη. 
+
+57. Πελειάδες δέ μοι δοκέουσι κληθῆναι πρὸς 
+Δωδωναίων ἐπὶ τοῦδε αἱ γυναῖκες, διότι βάρβαροι 
+5 d δέ e / » θέ 0 
+Ίσαν, ἐδόκεον δὲ σφι ομοίως ὄρνισι φῦἐγγεσθαι" 
+μετὰ δὲ χρόνον τὴν πελειάδα ἀνθρωπηίῃ φωνῇ 
+
+^0 4 [4 9 / / » "e 
+αὐδάξασθαι λέγουσι, ἐπείτε συνετά σφι ηὔδα ἡ 
+
+{, Y δὲ , / » / NEA / 
+γυνή ἕως δὲ ἐβαρβάριξε, ὄρνιθος τρόπον ἐδόκεέ 
+θέ θαι, ἐπεὶ τέῳ à i 
+σφι φθεγγεσθαι, ἐπεὶ τέῳ ἂν τροπῳ πελειάς γε 
+ἀνθρωπηίῃ φωνῇ φθέγξαιτο ; μέλαιναν δὲ λέ- 
+γοντες εἶναι τὴν πελειάδα σημαίνουσι ὅτι Αἰγυ- 
+
+πτίη ἡ γυνὴ ἦν. 
+
+58. “H δὲ μαντηίη ἤ τε ἐν Θήβῃσι τῇσι Αἰγυ- 
+πτίησι καὶ ἐν Δωδώνῃ παραπλήσιαι ἀλλήλῃσι 
+τυγχάνουσι ἐοῦσαι. ἔστι δὲ καὶ τῶν ἱρῶν ἡ μαν- 
+τικὴ ἀπ᾽ Αἰγύπτου ἀπιγμένη. πανηγύρις δὲ ἄρα 
+καὶ πομπὰς καὶ προσαγωγὰς πρῶτοι ἀνθρώπων 
+Αἰγύπτιοι εἰσὶ οἱ ποιησάμενοι, καὶ παρὰ τούτων 
+7 
+Ἕλληνες μεμαθήκασι. τεκμήριον δέ μοι τούτου 
+
+/ `~ A ’ 
+τόδε" αἱ μὲν γὰρ φαίνονται ἐκ πολλοῦ τευ χρόνου 
+
+’ e ΜΥ ΜΙ X κ. 3 / 
+ποιεύμεναι, αἱ δὲ Ελληνικαὶ νεωστὶ ἐποιήθησαν. 
+/ ο ^ 
+59. Πανηγυρίζουσι δὲ Αἰγύπτιοι οὐκ ἅπαξ τοῦ 
+
+
+344 
+
+
+BOOK II. 56-59 
+
+
+was formerly called Pelasgia, where this last was 
+sold, was Thesprotia ; and presently, being there in 
+slavery, she established a shrine of Zeus under an oak 
+that was growing there; for it was reasonable that as 
+she had been a handmaid of the temple of Zeus at 
+Thebes she should remember that temple in the land 
+to which she had come. After this she taught divi- 
+nation, as soon as she understood the Greek language ; 
+and she said that her sister had been sold in Libya 
+by the same Phoenicians who sold her. 
+
+57. I suppose that these women were called 
+* doves" by the people of Dodona because they 
+spoke a strange language, and the people thought 
+it like the cries of birds; presently the woman spoke 
+what they could ünderstand, and that is why they 
+say that the dove uttered human speech; as long as 
+she spoke in her foreign language, they thought her 
+voice was like the voice of a bird. For how could 
+a dove utter the speech of men? The tale that 
+the dove was black signifies that the woman was 
+Egyptian.! 
+
+58. The fashions of divination at Thebes of Egypt 
+and Dodona are like to one another; moreover the 
+practice of divining from the sacrificed victim has 
+also come from Egypt. It would seem too that the 
+Egyptians were the first people to establish solemn 
+assemblies, and processions, and services ; the Greeks 
+learnt all this from them. I hold this proved, 
+because the Egyptian ceremonies are manifestly very 
+ancient, and the Greek are of late origin. 
+
+59. The Egyptians hold solemn assemblies not 
+
+
+1 Perhaps Herodotus’ explanation is right. But the name 
+“doves” may be purely symbolic; thus priestesses οἱ 
+Demeter and Artemis were sometimes called Bees, 
+
+
+345 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐνιαυτοῦ, πανηγύρις δὲ συχνάς, μάλιστα μὲν καὶ 
+προθυμότατα ἐς Βούβαστιν πόλιν τῇ ᾿Αρτέμιδι, 
+δεύτερα δὲ ἐς Βούσιριν, πόλιν τῇ "Ilor ἐν ταύτῃ 
+γὰρ δὴ, τῇ πόλι ἐστὶ μέγιστον Ἴσιος ἱ ἱρόν, ἵδρυται 
+δὲ ἡ πόλις αὕτη τῆς Αἰγύπτου ἐν μέσῳ τῷ Δέλτα: 
+
+
+Ἶσις δὲ ἐστὶ κατὰ τὴν Ἑλλήνων γλῶσσαν Δημή- 
+
+
+τηρ. τρίτα δὲ ἐς Xdav πόλιν τῇ ᾿Αθηναίῃ πανηγυ- 
+
+
+ρίξουσι, τέταρτα δὲ ἐς Ἡλίου πόλιν τῷ HX, 
+πέμπτα δὲ ἐς Βουτοῦν πόλιν τῇ Λητοῖ, ἕκτα δὲ ἐς 
+Ἡάπρημιν πόλιν τῷ "Aper. 
+
+60. Ἔς μέν νυν Βούβαστιν πόλιν ἐπεὰν κομί- 
+ζωνται, ποιεῦσι τοιάδε. πλέουσί τε γὰρ δὴ ἅ ἅμα 
+ἄνδρες γυναιξὶ καὶ πολλόν τι πλῆθος ἑκατέρων ἐν 
+ἑκάστῃ Bápv αἳ μὲν τινὲς τῶν γυναικῶν κρόταλα 
+ἔχουσαι κροταλίξουσι, οἳ δὲ αὐλέουσι κατὰ πάντα 
+TOV πλόον, αἱ δὲ λοιπαὶ γυναῖκες καὶ ἄνδρες 
+ἀείδουσι καὶ τὰς χεῖρας κροτέουσι. ἐπεὰν δὲ πλέ- 
+οντες κατά τινα πόλιν ἄλλην γένωνται, ἐγχρίμ- 
+ψαντες τὴν βᾶριν τῇ γῇ ποιεῦσι τοιάδε: αἳ μὲν 
+τινὲς τῶν γυναικῶν ποιεῦσι τά περ εἴρηκα, αἳ δὲ 
+τωθάξουσι, βοῶσαι τὰς ἐν τῇ πόλι ταύτῃ γυναῖκας, 
+at δὲ ὀρχέονται, at δὲ ἀνασύρονται ἀνιστάμεναι. 
+ταῦτα παρὰ: πᾶσαν πόλιν παραποταμίην ποιεῦσι" 
+ἐπεὰν δὲ ἆ ἀπίκωνται ἐς τὴν Ῥούβαστιν, ὁρτάξουσι 
+μεγάλας -ἀνάγοντες θυσίας, καὶ οἶνος ἀμπέλινος 
+(ναισιμοῦται πλέων ἐν τῇ ὁρτῇ ταύτη ἢ ἐν τῷ 
+ἅπαντι ἐνιαυτῷ τῷ ἐπιλοίπῳ. συμφοιτῶσι δέ, 
+ὃ τι ἀνὴρ καὶ γυνή ἐστι πλὴν παιδίων, καὶ ἐς 
+ἑβδομήκοντα μυριάδας, ὡς οἱ ἐπιχώριοι λέγουσι. 
+
+61. Ταῦτα μὲν δὴ. ταύτῃ ποιέεται, ἐν δὲ Βουσίρι 
+πόλι ὡς ἀνάγουσι τῇ Ἴσι τὴν On εἴρηται πρό- 
+τερόν μοι’ τύπτονται μὲν γὰρ δὴ μετὰ τὴν θυσίην 
+
+
+346 
+
+
+σον T i dy κ ue ο ee ιν te 
+
+
+BOOK Il. 59-61 
+
+
+once in the year, but often. The chiefest of these 
+and the most zealously celebrated is at the town of 
+Bubastis! in honour of Artemis, and the next is that 
+in honour of Isis at Busiris. This town is in the 
+middle of the Egyptian Delta, and there is in it a 
+very great temple of Isis, who is in the Greek 
+language, Demeter. The third greatest festival is at 
+Sais\in honour of Athene; the fourth is the festival 
+of the sun at Heliopolis, the fifth of Leto at Buto, and 
+the sixth of Ares at Papremis. 
+
+60. When the people are on their way to Bubastis 
+they go by river, men and women together, a great 
+
+
+number of each in every boat. Some of the women 
+
+
+make a noise with rattles, others play flutes all the 
+way, while the rest of the women, and the men, sing 
+and clap their hands. As they journey by river to 
+Bubastis, whenever they come near any other town 
+they bring their boat near the bank; then some of 
+the women do as I have said, while some shout 
+mockery of the women of the town ; others dánce, 
+and others stand up and expose their persons. This 
+they do whenever they come beside any riverside 
+town. But when they have reached Bubastis, they 
+make a festival with great sacrifices, and more wine is 
+drunk at this feast than in the whole year beside. 
+Men and women (but not children) are wont to 
+assemble there to the number of seven hundred 
+thousand, as the people of.the place say. 
+
+61. Such is their practice there; I have already 
+
+
+-told how they keep the feast of Isis at Busiris. 
+
+
+There, after the sacrifice, all the men and women 
+
+
+! Bubastis in the Delta, the ‘‘city of Pasht," where the 
+cat-headed goddess Pasht (identified by Herodotus with 
+Artemis) was worshipped. 
+
+
+347 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+πάντες καὶ πᾶσαι, μυριάδες κάρτα πολλαὶ ἀνθρώ- 
+πων' τὸν δὲ τύπτονται, οὔ µοι ὅσιον ἐστὶ λέγειν. 
+ὅσοι δὲ Καρῶν εἰσι ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ οἰκέοντες, οὗτοι 
+δὲ 'τοσούτῳ͵ ἔτι πλέω ποιεῦσι τούτων ὅσῳ καὶ τὰ 
+μέτωπα κόπτονται μαχαίρῃσι, καὶ τούτῳ εἰσὶ 
+δῆλοι ὅτι εἰσὶ ξεῖνοι καὶ οὐκ Αἰγύπτιοι. 
+
+62. Ἔς Σάιν δὲ πόλιν ἐπεὰν συλλεχθέωσι, τῆς 
+θυσίης ἐν τῇ νυκτὶ λύχνα καίουσι πάντες πολλὰ 
+ὑπαίθρια περὶ τὰ δώματα κύκλῳ τὰ δὲ λύχνα 
+ἐστὶ ἐμβάφια ἔμπλεα ἁλὸς καὶ ἐλαίου, ἐπιπολῆς 
+δὲ ἔ ἔπεστι αὐτὸ τὸ ιἑλλύχνιον, καὶ τοῦτο καίεται 
+πο. καὶ τῇ ὁρτῇ οὔνομα κέεται. λυ νοκαΐη. 
+
+è ὃ ἂν μὴ ἔλθωσι τῶν Αἰγυπτίων ἐς την πανή- 
+Ύυριν ταύτην, | φυλάσσοντες τὴν νύκτα τῆς θυσίης 
+καίουσι καὶ αὐτοὶ πάντες τὰ λύχνα, καὶ οὕτω οὐκ 
+ἐν Σά: μούνῃ καίεται ἀλλὰ καὶ ἀνὰ πᾶσαν At- 
+γυπτον. ὅτευ δὲ εἵνεκα φῶς. ἔλαχε καὶ τιμὴν ἡ 
+νὺξ αὕτη, ἔστι ἱρὸς περὶ αὐτοῦ λόγος λεγόμενος. 
+
+63. "Es δὲ Ἡλίου τε πὀλιν καὶ Βουτοῦν θυσίας 
+μούνας ἐπιτελέουσι φοιτέοντες. ἐν δὲ Παπρήμι 
+θυσίας μὲν καὶ ἱρὰ κατά περ καὶ τῇ ἄλλη ποιεῦσι" 
+εὖτ᾽ ἂν δὲ γίνηται καταφερὴς Ò ἥλιος, ὀλίγοι μὲν 
+τινὲς τῶν ἱρέων περὶ τῶγαλμα πεπονέαται, οἱ δὲ 
+πολλοὶ αὐτῶν ξύλων κορύνας ἔχοντες ἑ ἑστᾶσι τοῦ 
+ἱροῦ ἐν τῇ ἐσόδῳ, ἄλλοι τε εὐχωλὰς ἐπιτελέοντες 
+πλεῦνες χιλίων ἀνδρῶν, ἕ ἕκαστοι ἔχοντες ξύλα καὶ 
+οὗτοι, ἐπὶ τὰ ἕτερα ἁλέες ἑστᾶσι. τὸ δὲ ἄγαλμα 
+ἐὸν ἐν νηῷ μικρῷ ξυλίνῳ κατακεχρυσωμένῳ προ- 
+εκκομίζουσι τῇ προτεραίῃ ἐς ἄλλο οἴκημα ipóv. 
+οἱ μὲν δὴ ὀλίγοι οἱ περὶ τῶγαλμα λελειμμένοι 
+ἕλκουσι «τετράκυκλον ἅμαξαν ἄγουσαν τὸν νηόν 
+τε καὶ τὸ ἐν τῷ νηῷ ἐνεὸν ἄγαλμα, of δὲ οὐκ ἐῶσι 
+
+
+348 
+
+
+BOOK II. 61-63 
+
+
+lament, in countless numbers; but it were profane 
+for me to say who it is for whom they lament. 
+Carian dwellers in Egypt do even more than this, for 
+they cut their foreheads with knives; showing there- 
+by, that they are not Egyptians but strangers. 
+
+62. When they assemble at Sais, on the night of 
+the sacrifice, they all keep lamps burning in the open 
+air round about their houses. These lamps are saucers 
+full of salt and oil, the wick floating thereon, and 
+burning all night. This is called the Feast of Lamps. 
+Egyptians who do not come to this assemblage are 
+careful on the night of sacrifice to keep their own 
+lamps burning, and so they are alight not only.at Sais 
+but throughout all Egypt. A sacred tale is told 
+showing why this night is thus lit up and honoured. 
+
+63, When the people go to Heliopolis and Buto 
+they offer sacrifice only. At Papremis sacrifice is 
+offered and rites performed as elsewhere; but when 
+the sun is sinking, while a few of the priests are — 
+left to busy themselves with the image, the 
+greater number of them beset the entrance of the 
+temple, with clubs of wor i in their hands; they 
+are confronted by more than a thousand men, all 
+perforning vows and all carrying wooden clubs 
+like the rest. The image of the god, in a little 
+wooden gilt casket, is carried on the day before 
+this from the temple to another sacred chamber. 
+The few who are left with the image draw a four- 
+wheeled cart carrying it in its casket; the other 
+priests stand in the temple porch and prevent its 
+
+349 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐν τοῖσι προπυλαίοισι ἑστεῶτες ἐσιέναι, οἱ δὲ 
+εὐχωλιμαῖοι τιµωρέοντες τῷ θεῷ παίουσι αὐτοὺς 
+ἀλεξομένους. ἐνθαῦτα μάχη ξύλοισι καρτερὴ yí- 
+νεται κεφαλάς τε συναράσσονται, καὶ ὡς ἐγὼ 
+δοκέω πολλοὶ καὶ ἀποθνήσκουσι ἐκ τῶν τρω- 
+µάτων' οὐ μέντοι ot γε Αἰγύπτιοι ἔφασαν ἀποθνή- 
+σκειν οὐδένα. τὴν δὲ πανήγυριν ταύτην ἐκ τοῦδε 
+νομίσαι φασὶ οἱ ἐπιχώριοι’ οἰκέειν ἐν τῷ ἱρῷ 
+τούτῳ τοῦ ᾿Άρεος τὴν μητέρα, καὶ τὸν "Apea ἀπό- 
+τροφον γενόμενον ἐλθεῖν ἐξανδρωμένον͵ ἐθέλοντα 
+τῇ μητρὶ συμμῖξαι, καὶ τοὺς προπόλους τῆς 
+μητρός, οἷα οὐκ ὀπωπότας αὐτὸν πρότερον, οὐ 
+περιορᾶν παριέναι ἀλλὰ ἀπερύκειν, τὸν δὲ ἐξ 
+ἄλλης πόλιος ἀγαγόμενον ἀνθρώπους τούς τε 
+προπόλους τρηχέως περισπεῖν καὶ ἐσελθεῖν παρὰ 
+τὴν μητέρα. ἀπὸ τούτου τῷ "Apei ταύτην τὴν 
+πληγὴν ἐν τῇ ὁρτῇ νενομικέναι φασί. 
+
+64. Καὶ τὸ μὴ μίσγεσθαι γυναιξὶ ἐ ἐν ἱ ροῖσι μηδὲ 
+ἀλούτους ἀπὸ γυναικῶν ἐς ἱρὰ ἐσιέναι οὗτοι εἰσὶ 
+οἱ πρῶτοι θρησκεύσαντες. οἱ μὲν γὰρ ἆλλοι 
+σχεδὸν πάντες ἄνθρωποι, πλὴν Αἰγυπτίων καὶ 
+Ἑλλήνων, μίσγονται ἐν ἱροῖσι καὶ ἀπὸ γυναικῶν 
+ἀνιστάμενοι ἄλουτοι ἐσέρχονται ἐς ἱρόν, νομί- 
+ὅοντες ἀνθρώπους εἶναι «ατά περ τὰ ἄλλα κτήνεα- 
+καὶ γὰρ τὰ ἄλλα κτήνεα ὁρᾶν καὶ ὀρνίθων γένεα 
+ὀχευόμενα ἔν τε τοῖσι νηοῖσι τῶν θεῶν καὶ ἐν 
+τοῖσι τεμένεσι: εἰ ὧν εἶναι. τῷ θεῷ τοῦτο μὴ 
+φίλον, οὐκ ἂν οὐδὲ τὰ κτήνεα ποιέειν. οὗτοι 
+μέν νυν τοιαῦτα ἐπιλέγοντες ποιεῦσι ἔμοιγε οὐκ 
+ἀρεστά: Αἰγύπτιοι δὲ θρησκεύουσι περισσῶς τά 
+τε ἄλλα περὶ τὰ ἱρὰ καὶ δὴ καὶ τάδε. 
+
+65. ᾿Βοῦσα ἡ Αἴγυπτος ὅμουρος τῇ Λιβύη οὐ 
+
+
+359 
+
+
+BOOK II. 63-65 
+
+
+entrance ; the votaries take the part of the god, and 
+smite the priests, who resist. There is hard fighting 
+with clubs, and heads are broken, and as I- think 
+(though the Egyptians told me no life was lost), 
+many die of their wounds. The assemblage, say the 
+people of the country, took its rise thus:—The 
+mother of Ares dwelt in this temple; Ares had been 
+reared away from her, and when he grew to manhood 
+came to hold converse with his mother; but as her 
+attendants, never having seen him before, kept him 
+off and would not suffer him to pass, Ares brought 
+men from another town, roughly handled the attend- 
+ants, and gained access to his mother. From this, 
+they say, arose this custom of a battle of blows at 
+the festival in honour of Ares.! | 
+
+64. Further, it was the Egyptians who first made 
+it a matter of religious observance not to have inter- 
+course with women in temples, nor enter a temple 
+after such intercourse without washing. Nearly all 
+other men are less careful in this matter than are the 
+Egyptians and Greeks, and hold a man to be like 
+any other animal; for beasts and birds (they say) 
+are seen to mate both in the temples and the sacred 
+precincts; now were this displeasing to the god 
+neither would the beasts do so. This is the reason 
+given by others for practices which I for my part 
+mislike; but the Egyptians in this and in all otlier 
+matters are exceeding strict against desecration of 
+their temples. 
+
+65. Though Egypt has Libya on its borders, it is 
+
+
+! It is uncertain what Egyptian deity Herodotus identifies 
+with Ares. Ina Greek papyrus, '' Ares" is the equivalent 
+for the Egyptian Anhur, a god, apparently, not clearly 
+differentiated from ** Shu” or ** Heracles.” 
+
+
+351 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μάλα θηριώδης ἐστί" τὰ δὲ ἐόντα σφι ἅπαντα 
+ἱρὰ νενόμισται, καὶ τὰ μὲν σύντροφα αὐτοῖσι 
+τοῖσι ἀνθρώποισι, τὰ δὲ ov. τῶν δὲ εἵνεκεν ἀνεῖται 
+τὰ θηρία ἱρὰ εὖ λέγοιμι, καταβαίην ἂν τῷ λόγῳ 
+ἐς τὰ θεῖα πρήγματα, τὰ ἐγὼ φεύγω μάλιστα 
+ἀπηγέέσθαι: τὰ δὲ καὶ εἴρηκα αὐτῶν ἐπιψαύσας, 
+ἀναγκαίῃ καταλαμβανόμενος εἶπον. νόμος δὲ ἐστὶ 
+περὶ τῶν. θηρίων ὧδε ἔχων: μελεδωνοὶ ἀποδε- 
+δέχαται τῆς τροφῆς χωρὶς ἑκάστων καὶ ἔρσενες 
+καὶ θήλεαι τῶν Αἰγυπτίων, τῶν παῖς παρὰ πατρὸς 
+ἐκδέκεται τὴν τιμήν. οἳ δὲ ἐν τῇσι πόλισι ἕκαστοι 
+εὐχὰς τάσδε σφι ἀποτελέουσι' εὐχόμενοι τῷ θεῷ 
+τοῦ ἂν j TÓ θηρίον, ξυρῶντες τῶν παιδίων ἢ 
+πᾶσαν τὴν κεφαλὴν ἦ ἢ τὸ ἥμισυ ἢ τὸ τρίτον μέρος 
+τῆς κεφαλῆς, ἱστᾶσι σταθμῷ πρὸς ἀργύριον τὰς 
+τρίχας" τὸ Ò ἂν ἑλκύσῃ, τοῦτο τῇ μελεδωνῷ τῶν 
+θηρίων διδοῖ, ἣ δὲ ἀντ᾽ αὐτοῦ τάμνουσα ἰχθῦς 
+παρέχει Βορὴν τοῖσι θηρίοισι. τροφὴ μὲν δὴ 
+αὐτοῖσι τοιαύτη ἀποδέδεκται" τὸ δ᾽ ἄν τις τῶν 
+θηρίων τούτων ἀποκτείνῃ, ἣν μὲν ἑκών, θάνατος 
+ἡ ζημίη, ἣν δὲ ἀέκων, ἀποτίνει ἑημίην τὴν ἂν οἱ 
+ἐρέες τάξωνται. ὃς Ò ἂν ἶβιν ἢ 1 ρηκα ἀποκτείνῃ, 
+ἤν τε ἑκὼν ἤν τε ἀέκων, τεθνάναι ἀνάγκη. 
+
+66. Πολλῶν δὲ ἐόντων ὁμοτρόφων τοῖσι ἀνθρώ- 
+ποισι θηρίων πολλῷ ἂν ἔτι πλέω ἐγίνετο, εἰ 
+μὴ κατελάμβανε τοὺς αἰελούρους τοιάδε" ἐπεὰν 
+τέκωσι αἱ θήλεαι, οὐκέτι φοιτέουσι παρὰ τοὺς 
+ἔρσενας' οἳ δὲ .διξήμενοι μίσγεσθαι αὐτῇσι οὐκ 
+ἔχουσι. πρὸς ὧν ταῦτα σοφίξονται τάδε" -ἁρπά- 
+Covres ἀπὸ τῶν θηλέων καὶ ὑπαιρεόμενοι τὰ τέκνα 
+κτείνουσι, κτείναντες μέντοι οὐ πατέονται' al 
+
+
+352 
+
+
+BOOK II. 65-66 
+
+
+not a country of many animals. All of them are 
+held sacred ; some of these are part of mens' house- 
+holds and some not; but were I to declare the 
+reason why they are dedicated, I should be brought 
+to speak of matters of divinity, of which I am espe- 
+cially unwilling to treat ; I have never touched upon 
+such save where necessity has compelled me. But ! 
+will now show how it is customary to deal with the 
+animals. Men and women are appointed guardians 
+to provide nourishment for each kind severally; .a 
+son inherits this office from his father. Towusmen in 
+each place, when they pay their vows, make prayer 
+to the god to whom the animal is dedicated, shaving 
+the whole or the half or the third part of their 
+children's heads, and weighing the hair in a balance 
+against a sum of silver; then whatever be the weight 
+in silver of the hair is given to the female guardian 
+of the cre:tures, who buys fish with it, cuts them 
+up and feeds them therewith. Thus is food pro- 
+vided for them. Whoever kills one of these crea- 
+tures with intention is punished with death ; if he 
+kill by mischance he pays whatever penalty the 
+priests appoint. Whoever kills an ibis or à hawk, 
+with intention or without, must die for it. 
+
+66. There are many household animals ; and there 
+
+
+would be many more, were it not for what happens to 
+
+
+the cats. When the females have kittened they ` 
+will not consort with the.males ; and these seek them 
+but cannot get their will of them ; so their device is 
+to steal and carry off and kill the kittens (but they do 
+not eat what they have killed). The mothers, 
+
+
+353 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δὲ στερισκόµεναι τῶν τέκνων, ἄλλων δὲ ἐπιθυ- 
+μέουσαι, οὕτω δὴ à ἀπικνέονται παρὰ τοὺς ἔρσενας" 
+φιλότεκνον γὰρ τὸ θηρίον. πυρκαϊῆς δὲ γενομένης 
+θεῖα πρήγματα καταλαμβάνει τοὺς αἰελούρους" 
+οἱ | μὲν γὰρ Αἰγύπτιοι διαστάντες φυλακὰς ἔχουσι 
+τῶν αἰελούρων,, ἀμελήσαντες σβεννύναι τὸ καιό- 
+μενον, οἱ δὲ αἰέλουροι διαδύνοντες καὶ ὑπερθρώ- 
+σκοντες τοὺς ἀνθρώπους ἐσάλλονται ἐς TO πῦρ. 
+ταῦτα δὲ γινόμενα πένθεα μεγάλα τοὺς At- 
+γυπτίους καταλαμβάνει. ἐν ὁτέοισι Ò ἂν οἰκίοισι 
+αἰέλουρος ἀποθάνη ἀπὸ τοῦ αὐτομάτου, οἱ ἐνοικέ- 
+οντες πάντες ξυρῶνται τὰς -ὀφρύας μούνας, παρ᾽ 
+ὀτέοισι Ò ἂν κύων, πᾶν τὸ σῶμα καὶ τὴν κεφαλήν. 
+67. ᾿Απάγονται δὲ οἱ αἰέλουροι ἀποθανόντες ἐς 
+ipas στέγας, ἔνθα θάπτονται ταριχευθέντες, € ἐν Βου- 
+βάστιπόλι" τὰς δὲ κύνας ἐν τῇ ἑωυτῶν ἕκαστοι πόλι 
+θάπτουσι ἐ ἐν (prat θήκῃσι. ὣς δὲ αὕτω-” τῆσι κυσὶ 
+οἱ ἰχνευταὶ θάπτονται. τὰς δὲ μυγαλ: S$ καὶ τοὺς 
+ἴρηκας ἀπάγουσι ἐς Βουτοῦν πόλιν, τὰς δὲ ἴβις ἐς 
+Ἑρμέω πόλιν. τὰς δὲ ἄρκτους. ἐούσας σπανίας 
+καὶ τοὺς λύκους οὐ πολλῷ τεῳ ἐόντας ἀλωπέκων 
+μέζονας αὐτοῦ θάπτουσι τῇ ἂν εὑρεθέωσι κείμενοι. 
+68. Τῶν δὲ κροκοδείλων ἰφύσις! ἐστὶ τοιήδε. 
+τοὺς Χειμεριωτάτους μῆνας τέσσερας ἐσθίει οὐδέν, 
+ἐὸν δὲ τετράπουν. .Χερσαῖον καὶ λιμναῖον ἐστί. 
+τίκτει μὲν γὰρ͵ wà ἐν γῇ καὶ ἐκλέπει, καὶ τὸ 
+πολλὸν τῆς ἡμέρης διατρίβει ἐν τῷ ξηρῷ, τὴν δὲ 
+νύκτα πᾶσαν ἐν τῷ ποταμῴ' θερμότερον γὰρ δή 
+ἐστι τὸ ὕδωρ τῆς τε αἰθρίης καὶ τῆς δρόσου. 
+πάντων δὲ τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν θνητῶν τοῦτο ἐξ ea- 
+χίστου μέγιστον γίνεται" T E yàp Oa χηνέων 
+οὐ πολλῷ μέξονα τίκτει, καὶ ὁ νεοσσὸς κατὰ λόγον 
+
+
+354 
+
+
+BOOK II. 66-68 
+
+
+deprived of their young and desiring to have more 
+will then consort with the males; for they are 
+creatures that love offspring. And when a fire 
+breaks out very strange things happen to the cats. 
+The Egyptians stand round in a broken line, thinking 
+more of the cats than of quenching the burning ; but 
+the cats slip through or leap over the men and spring 
+into the fire. When this happens, there is great 
+mourning in Egypt. Dwellers in a house where a 
+cat has died a natural death shave their eyebrows and 
+no more ; where a dog has so died, the head and the 
+whole body are shaven. 
+
+67. Dead cats are taken away into sacred buildings, 
+where they are embalmed and buried, in the town of 
+Bubastis; bitches are buried in sacred coffins by the 
+townsmen, in their several towns; and the like is 
+done with ichneumons. Shrewmice and hawks are 
+taken away to Buto, ibises to the city of Hermes, 
+There are but few bears, and the wolves are little 
+bigger than foxes; both these are buried wherever 
+they are found lying. x18 phusis DE. 
+
+68. I will now show what kind of creature is the 
+crocodile. For the four winter months it eats noth- 
+ing. It has four feet, and lives both on land and in 
+the water, for it lays eggs and hatches them out on 
+land, and it passes the greater part of the day on dry 
+ground, and the night in the river, the water being 
+warmer than the air and dew. No mortal creature 
+known to us grows from so small a beginning to such 
+greatness; for its eggs are not much bigger than goose 
+eggs, and the young crocodile is of a bigness answering 
+
+
+355 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τοῦ (o0 γίνεται, αὐξανόμενος δὲ γίνεται καὶ ἐς 
+ἑπτακαίδεκα πήχεας καὶ μέξων ἔτι. ἔχει δὲ 
+ὀφθαλμοὺς μὲν vos, ὀδόντας δὲ μεγάλους καὶ 
+χαυλιόδοντας κατὰ λόγον τοῦ σώματος. γλῶσ- 
+σαν δὲ μοῦνον θηρίων οὐκ ἔφυσε, οὐδὲ κινέει τὴν 
+κάτω γνάθον, ἀλλὰ καὶ τοῦτο μοῦνον θηρίων τὴν 
+ἄνω γνάθον προσάγει τῇ κάτω. ἔχει δὲ καὶ 
+ὄνυχας καρτεροὺς καὶ δέρµα λεπιδωτὸν a ἄρρηκτον 
+ἐπὶ τοῦ νώτου. τυφλὸν δὲ ἐν ὕδατι, ἐν δὲ τῇ 
+αἰθρίῃ ὀξυδερκέστατον. ἅτε δὴ ὧν ἐν ὕδατι 
+δίαιταν ποιεύμενον, τὸ στόμα ἔνδοθεν φοοέει πᾶν 
+μεστὸν βδελλέων. τὰ μὲν δὴ ἄλλα opvea καὶ 
+θηρία φεύγει μιν, ὁ δὲ τροχίλος εἰρηναῖόν οἱ ἐστὶ 
+ἅτε ὠφελεομένῳ πρὸς αὐτοῦ" ἐπεὰν yàp ἐς τὴν 
+γῆν ἐκβῇ ἐκ τοῦ ὕδατος ὁ .κροκόδειλος καὶ ἔπειτα 
+χάνῃ (ἔωθε γὰρ τοῦτο ὡς ἐπίπαν ποιέειν πρὸς τὸν 
+ζέφυρον), ἐνθαῦτα ὁ τροχέλος ἐσδύνων ἐς τὸ 
+στόμα αὐτοῦ καταπίνει τὰς βδέλλας' ὃ ὃ δὲ wpe- 
+λεύμενος ἥδεται καὶ οὐδὲν σίνεται τὸν τροχίλον. 
+
+. 69. Toto: μὲν δὴ τῶν Αἰγυπτίων (poi εἰσι οἱ 
+κροκόδειλοι, τοῖσι δὲ οὔ, ἀλλ ἅτε πολεμίους 
+περιέπουσι" οἱ δὲ περί. τε Θήβας καὶ τὴν Μοίριος 
+λίμνην οἰκέοντες καὶ κάρτα ἥγηνται αὐτοὺς εἶναι 
+
+
+-ἱρούς: ἐκ πάντων δὲ ἕ ένα ἑκάτεροι τρέφουσι κρο- 
+
+
+κόδειλον δεδιδαγμένον εἶναι .χειροήθεα, ἀρτήματά 
+τε λίθινα χυτὰ καὶ χρύσεα ἐς τὰ WTA ἐνθέντες καὶ 
+ἀμφιδέας περὶ τοὺς ἐμπροσθίους πόδας, καὶ σιτία 
+ἀποτακτὰ διδόντες καὶ ἱρήια, καὶ περιέποντες 
+ὡς κάλλιστα ζῶντας" ἀποθανόντας δὲ θάπτουσι 
+ταριχεύοντες ἐν ἱρῇσι θήκῃσι. οἱ δὲ περὶ Ἔλε- 
+φαντίνην πόλιν οἰκέοντες καὶ ἐσθίουσι αὐτοὺς οὐκ 
+ἡγεόμενοι ἱροὺς εἶναι. καλέονται δὲ οὐ KEKORI 
+
+
+. 856 
+
+
+BOOK II. 68-60 
+
+
+thereto, but it grows to a length of seventeen 
+cubits and more. It has eyes like pigs’ eyes, and 
+great teeth and tusks answering to the bigness of its 
+body. It is the only animal that has no tongue. 
+Nor does it move the lower jaw. It is the only 
+creature that brings the upper jaw down upon the 
+lower. It has also strong claws, and a scaly impene- 
+trable hide on its back. It is blind in the water, but 
+very keen of sight in the air. Since it lives in the 
+water, its mouth is all full within of leeches. All birds 
+and beasts flee from it, except only the sandpiper,! 
+with which it is at peace, because this bird does the 
+crocodile a service ; for whenever the crocodile comes 
+ashore out of the water and then opens its mouth 
+(and this it does for the most part to catch. the west 
+wind), the sandpiper goes into its mouth and eats 
+the leeches; the crocodile is pleased by this service | 
+and does the sandpiper no harm. watt? 
+69. Some of the Egyptians hold crocodiles sacred, 
+——— M tó 
+others do not so, but treat them as enemies. The 
+dwellers about Thebes and the lake Moeris deem 
+them to be very sacred. There, in every place one 
+crocodile is kept, trained to be tame ; they put orna- 
+ments of glass and gold on its ears and bracelets on 
+its forefeet, provide for it special food and offerings, 
+and give the creatures the best of treatment while 
+they live; after death the crocodiles are embalmed 
+and buried in sacred coffins. But about Elephantine 
+they are not held sacred, and are even eaten. The 
+Egyptians do not call them crocodiles, but champsae. 
+
+
+! Egyptian spur-winged lapwing (Hoplopterus armatus). 
+357 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἀλλὰ χάμψαι' κροκοδείλους δὲ Ἴωνες ὠνόμασαν, 
+εἰκάξοντες αὐτῶν τὰ εἴδεα τοῖσι παρὰ σφίσι γινο- 
+μένοισι κροκοδείλοισι τοῖσι ἐν τῇσι αἱμασιῇσι. 
+
+10. "Αγραι δὲ σφέων πολλαὶ κατ ατεστᾶσι καὶ 
+παντοῖαι' ἣ δ᾽ ὧν ἔμοιγε δοκέει ἀξιωτάτη ἀπηγή- 
+σιος εἶναι, ταύτην γράφω] ἐπεὰν νῶτον ὑὸς δε- 
+λεάσῃ περὶ ἄγκιστρον, μετιεῖ ἐς μέσον τὸν ποταμόν, 
+αὐτὸς δὲ ἐπὶ τοῦ χείλεος τοῦ ποταμοῦ ἔχων δέλ.- 
+φακα ζωὴν ταύτην τύπτει. ἐπακούσας δὲ τῆς 
+φωνῆς ὸ κροκόδειλος ἵεται κατὰ τὴν φωνήν, 
+ἐντυχὼν δὲ τῷ νώτῳ καταπίνει: of δὲ ἕλκουσι, 
+ἐπεὰν δὲ ἐξελκυσθῇ ἐς γῆν, πρῶτον ἁπάντων ὁ 
+θηρευτὴς πηλῷ κατ ὧν ἔπλασε αὐτοῦ TOUS 
+ὀφθαλμούς" τοῦτο δὲ ποιήσας κάρτα εὐπετέως τὰ 
+λοιπὰ χειροῦται, μὴ ποιήσας. δὲ τοῦτο σὺν πόνῳ. 
+
+71. Οἱ δὲ ἵπποι οἱ ποτάμιοι νομῷ μὲν τῷ 
+Παπρημίτῃ ἱ ἱροί εἰσι, τοῖσι δὲ ἄλλοισι Αἰγυπτίοισι 
+οὐκ ipo. φύσιν δὲ παρέχονται ἰδέης τοιήνδε" 
+τετράπουν ἐστί, δίχηλον, ὁπλαὶ Boos, σιμόν, 
+λοφιὴν ἔχον ἵππου, χαυλιόδοντας Φαῖνον, οὐρὴν 
+ἵππου καὶ φωνήν, μέγαθος ὅσον τε βοῦς L pé- 
+jio ros TÓ δέρµα δ᾽ αὐτοῦ οὕτω δή τι παχύ ἐστι 
+ὥστε αὔου γενομένου ξυστὰ ποιέεσθαι ἀκόντια 
+ἐξ αὐτοῦ. 
+
+12. Γίνονται δὲ καὶ ἐνύδριες € ἐν τῷ ποταμῷ, τὰς 
+ἱρὰς ἥγηνται εἶναι. νοµίζουσι. δὲ καὶ τῶν ἐχθύων 
+τὸν καλεύμενον λεπιδωτὸν ἱρὸν εἶναι καὶ τὴν 
+ἔγχελυν, ἱροὺς δὲ τούτους τοῦ Νείλου φασὶ εἶναι, 
+καὶ τῶν ὀρνίθων τοὺς χηναλώπεκας. . 
+
+73. Ἔστι δὲ καὶ ἄλλος ὄρνις. ipós, τῷ οὔνομα 
+φοῖνιξ. ἐγὼ μέν μιν οὐκ εἶδον εἰ μὴ ὅσον γραφῇ" 
+καὶ γὰρ δὴ καὶ σπάνιος ἐπιφοιτᾷ σφι, δι’ ἐτέων, 
+
+
+358 
+
+
+BOOK Il. 69-73 
+
+
+The Ionians called them crocodiles, from their like- 
+ness to the lizards which they have in their walls.! 48 92655. 
+
+70. There are many and various ways of crocodile 
+hunting ; I will write only of that one way which I 
+think most worthy of mention :—The hunter baits a 
+hook with a chine of pork, and lets it float into the 
+midst of the river; he himself stays on the bank with 
+a young live pig, which he beats. Hearing the cries 
+of the pig, the crocodile goes after the sound, and 
+meets the ‘chine, which it swallows; then the hunters 
+pull the line. When the crocodile is drawn ashore, 
+first of all the hunter smears its eyes over with mud ; 
+when this is done the quarry is very easily mastered, 
+which, without that, is no light matter. 
+
+71. River horses are sacred in the province of 
+Papremis, but not elsewhere in Egypt. For their 
+outward form, they are four-footed, with cloven hoofs 
+like oxen; their noses are blunt ; they are maned like. 
+horses, with tusks showing, and have a horse's tail 
+and a horse’s neigh; their bigness is that of the 
+biggest oxen. Their hide is so thick that when it is 
+dried spearshafts are made of it. 
+
+72. Otters also are found in the river, which the 
+Egyptians deem sacred; and they hold sacred that 
+fish too which is called the scale-fish, and the eel. 
+These, and the fox-goose? among birds, are | said to 
+be sacred to the god. of the Nile. 
+
+73. Another bird also is sacred; it is called the 
+phoenix. I myself have ever seen it, but only pic- 
+tures of it ; for the bird comes but seldom into Eg gypt, 
+
+! κροκόδειλος is Ionic for a lizard ; the commoner word is 
+σαύρα Or σαῦρος; χάμψα, is the Egyptian “ em-suh," a name | 
+which survives in the Arabic. *' timsah,” ὁ t.e. em-suh with the. 
+feminine article prefixed. 
+
+3 Or ** Nile-goose.' The Egyptian goose (Chenalopea 
+Aegyptica). 
+
+359 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὡς Ἡλιοπολῖται λέγουσι, πεντακοσίων' φοιτᾶν 
+δὲ τότε φασὶ ἐπεάν οἱ ἀποθάνη ὁ πατήρ. ἔστι δέ, 
+εἰ τῇ γραφῇ παρόμοιος, τοσόσδε καὶ τοιόσδε' τὰ 
+μὲν αὐτοῦ χρυσόκομα τῶν πτερῶν τὰ δὲ ἐρυθρὰ ἐς 
+τὰ μάλιστα" αἰετῷ περιήγησιν ὁμοιότατος καὶ τὸ 
+μέγαθος. τοῦτον δὲ λέγουσι μηχανᾶσθαι τάδε, 
+ἐμοὶ μὲν οὗ πιστὰ λέγοντες" ἐξ ᾿Αραβίης ὁρμώ- 
+μενον ἐς τὸ ἱρὸν τοῦ Ἡλίου κομίξειν τὸν πατέρα ἐν 
+σμύρνῃ ἐμπλάσσοντα καὶ θάπτειν ἐν τοῦ Ἡλίου 
+
+ἱρῷ, κομίξειν δὲ οὕτω: πρῶτον τῆς σμύρνης 
+d» πλάσσειν ὅσον τε δυνατός ἐστι φέρειν, μετὰ 
+ὲ πειρᾶσθαι αὐτὸ φορέοντα, € ἐπεὰν δὲ ἀποπειρηθῇ, 
+οὕτω δὴ κοιλήναντα τὸ ev τὸν πατέρα ἐς αὐτὸ 
+ἐντιθέναι, σμύρνῃ δὲ ἄλλη ἐμπλάσσειν τοῦτο κατ᾽ 
+ὅ τι τοῦ gov ἐκκοιλήνας ἐνέθηκε τὸν πατέρα" 
+ἐσκειμένου δὲ τοῦ πατρὸς γίνεσθαι τὠυτὸ βάρος: 
+ἐμπλάσαντα δὲ κομίξειν μιν ἐπ᾽ Αἰγύπτου ἐς τοῦ 
+"Ἡλίου τὸ ἱρόν. ταῦτα μὲν τοῦτον τὸν ὄρνιν 
+λέγουσι ποιέειν. 
+
+14. Εἰσὶ δὲ περὶ Θήβας ἱροὶ ὄφιες, ἀνθρώπων 
+οὐδαμῶς δηλήμονες, οἳ μεγάθεϊ ἐόντες μικροὶ δύο 
+κέρεα φορέουσι πεφυκότα ἐξ ἄκρης τῆς κεφαλῆς" 
+τοὺς θάπτουσι ἀποθανόντας ἐν τῷ ἱρῷ τοῦ Διός: 
+τούτου γὰρ σφέας τοῦ θεοῦ φασι εἶναι ἱρούς. 
+
+75. Ἔστι δὲ χῶρος τῆς ᾿Αραβίης κατὰ Βουτοῦν 
+πόλιν μάλιστά κῃ κείμενος, καὶ ἐς τοῦτο τὸ χωρίον 
+ἦλθον πυνθανόμενος περὶ, τῶν πτερωτῶν ὀφίων" 
+ἀπικόμενος δὲ εἶδον ὀστέα ὀφίων καὶ ἀκάνθας 
+πλήθεϊ μὲν ἀδύνατα ἀπηγήσασθαι, σωροὶ δὲ ἡ ἦσαν 
+ἀκανθέων καὶ μεγάλοι καὶ ὑποδεέστεροι καὶ ἐλάσ- 
+σονες ἔτι τούτων, πολλοὶ δὲ ἦσαν οὗτοι. ἔστι δὲ 
+ὁ χῶρος οὗτος, ἐν τῷ αἱ ἄκανθαι κατακεχύαται, 
+
+
+360 
+
+
+BOOK II. 73-75 
+
+
+once in five hundred years, as the people ot Helio- 
+polis say. It issaid that the phoenix comes when his 
+father dies. If the picture truly shows his size and 
+appearance, his plumage is partly golden but mostly 
+red. He is most like an eagle in shape and bigness. 
+The Egyptians tell a tale of this bird's devices which 
+I do not believe. He comes, they say, from Arabia 
+bringing his father to the Sun's temple enclosed in 
+myrrh, and there buries him. His manner of bring- 
+ing is this: first he moulds an egg of myrrh as heavy. 
+as he can carry, and when he has proved its weight 
+by lifting it he then hollows out the egg and puts his. 
+father in it, covering over with more myrrh the hollow 
+in which the body lies; so the egg being with his 
+father in it of the same weight as before, the 
+phoenix, after enclosing him, carries him to the 
+temple of the Sun in Egypt. Such is the tale of 
+what is done by this bird. 
+
+14. Near Thebes there are sacred snakes, harmless 
+to men, small in size and bearing two horns on the 
+top of their heads. "These, when they die, are buried 
+in the temple of Zeus, to whom they are said to be 
+sacred. | 
+
+75. Not far from the town of Buto, there is a 
+place in Arabia to which I went to learn about the 
+winged serpents. When I came thither, I saw in- 
+numerable bones and backbones of serpents; many 
+heaps of backbones there were, great and small and 
+smaller still. This place, where lay the backbones 
+
+
+361 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τοιόσδε τις, ἐσβολὴ ἐξ ὀρέων στεινῶν ἐς πεδίον 
+µέγα, τὸ δὲ πεδίον τοῦτο συνάπτει τῷ Αἰγυπτίῳ 
+πεδίῳ. λόγος δὲ ἐστὶ ἅμα τῷ ἔαρι πτερωτοὺς 
+ὄφις ἐκ τῆς ᾿Αραβίης πέτεσθαι ἐπ᾽ Αἰγύπτου, 
+τὰς δὲ ἴθις τὰς ὄρνιθας ἀπαντώσας ἐς τὴν 
+ἐσβολὴν ταύτης τῆς χώρης οὐ παριέναι τοὺς ὄφις 
+ἀλλὰ κατακτείνειν. καὶ τὴν ἶβιν διὰ τοῦτο τὸ 
+ἔργον τετιμῆσθαι λέγουσι Αράβιοι μεγάλως πρὸς 
+Αἰγυπτίων: ὁμολογέουσι δὲ καὶ Αἰγύπτιοι διὰ 
+ταῦτα τιμᾶν τὰς ὄρνιθας ταύτας. 
+
+10. Εἶδος δὲ τῆς uev ἴβιος τόδε" μέλαινα δεινῶς 
+πᾶσα, σκέλεα δὲ φορέει γεράνου, πρόσωπον δὲ 
+ἐς τὰ μάλιστα ἐπίγρυπον, μέγαθος ὅσον κρέξ. 
+τῶν μὲν δὴ μελαινέων. τῶν μαχομενέων πρὸς τοὺς 
+ὄφις ἥδε ἰδέη, τῶν ὃ ἐν ποσὶ μᾶλλον εἰλευμενέων 
+τοῖσι ἀνθρώποισι (διξαὶ γὰρ. δή εἰσι ἴβιες) ψιλὴ 
+τὴν κεφαλὴν Kal τὴν δειρὴν πᾶσαν, λευκὴ πτεροῖσι 
+πλὴν κεφαλῆς καὶ αὐχένος καὶ ἀκρέων τῶν 
+πτερύγων καὶ τοῦ πυγαίου ἄκρου (ταῦτα δὲ τὰ 
+εἶπον πάντα μέλανα ἐστὶ δεινῶς), σκέλεα δὲ καὶ 
+πρόσωπον ἐμφερὴς τῇ ἑτέρη. τοῦ δὲ ὄφιος ἡ 
+μορφὴ οἵη περ τῶν ὕδρων, πτίλα δὲ οὐ πτερωτὰ 
+φορέει ἀλλὰ τοῖσι τῆς νυκτερίδος πτεροῖσι μά- 
+λιστά κῃ ἐμφερέστατα. 
+
+Τοσαῦτα μὲν θηρίων πέρι ἱρῶν εἰρήσθω. 
+
+77. Αὐτῶν δὲ δὴ Αἰγυπτίων οἳ μὲν περὶ τὴν 
+σπειροµένην Αἴγυπτον οἰκέουσι, μνήμην ἀνθρώπων 
+πάντων ἐπασκέοντες μάλιστα λογιώτατοι εἰσὶ 
+μακρῷ τῶν ἐγὼ ἐς διάπειραν ἀπικόμην, τρόπῳ δὲ 
+Cons τοιῷδε δια χρέωνται" συρμαΐξουσι τρεῖς ἡμέρας 
+ἐπεξῆς μηνὸς ἑκάστου, ἐμέτοισι θηρώμενοι τὴν 
+ὑγιείην καὶ κλύσμασι, νομίζοντες ἀπὸ τῶν Tpe- 
+
+
+463 
+
+
+oS A CEN ο «αμ SS 
+
+
+ο -A 
+
+
+-———— aes 
+
+
+-- ΕΞ ορ e dn DR EL ee qr | PETENTE NE — ë ΚΝ eee E y 
+
+
+BOOK Il. 75-77 
+
+
+scattered, is where a narrow mountain pass opens into 
+a great plain, which is joined to the plain of Egypt. 
+Winged serpents are said to fly at the beginning of 
+spring, from Arabia, making for Egypt; but the ibis 
+birds encounter the invaders in this pass and kill 
+them. The Arabians say that the ibis is greatly 
+honoured by the Egyptians for this service, and the 
+Egyptians give the same reason for honouring these 
+birds. | 
+76. Now this is the appearance of the ibis. It is 
+all deep black, with legs like a crane's, and a beak 
+strongly hooked ; its size is that of a landrail. Such 
+is the outward form of the ibis which fights with the 
+
+
+serpents. Those that most consort with men (for 
+
+
+the ibis is of two kinds)! have all the head and neck 
+bare of feathers; their plumage is white, save the 
+head and neck and the tips of wings and tail (these 
+being deep black); the legs and beak of the bird 
+are like those of the other ibis. The serpents are 
+
+
+like water-snakes. Their wings are not feathered 
+
+
+but most like the wings of a bat. 
+
+I have now said enough concerning creatures that 
+are sacred. 
+
+717. Among the Egyptians themselves, those who 
+dwell in the cultivated country are the, most care- 
+ful of all men to preserve the memory of the past, 
+and none whom I have questioned have so many 
+chronicles. I will now speak of the manner of life 
+which they use. For three following days in every 
+month they purge themselves, pursuing after health 
+by means of emetics and drenches; for they think 
+
+1 Geronticus Calvus and Ibis Aethiopica, 
+
+
+VOL.I. ο 363 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+φόντων σιτίων πάσας τὰς νούσους τοῖσι ἀνθρώ- 
+
+
+rotat γίνεσθαι. εἰσὶ μὲν γὰρ καὶ ἄλλως Αἰγύπτιοι 
+
+
+μετὰ Λίβυας ὑγιηρέστατοι πάντων ἀνθρώπων τῶν 
+ὠρέων δοκέειν ἐμοὶ εἵνεκα, ὅτι οὐ μεταλλάσσουσι 
+αἱ ὧραι: ἐν γὰρ τῇσι μεταβολῆσι τοῖσι ἀνθρώ- 
+ποισι αἱ νοῦσοι μάλιστα γίνονται τῶν τε ἄλλων 
+πάντων καὶ δὴ καὶ τῶν ὡρέων μάλιστα. ἀρτο- 
+φαγέουσι δὲ ἐκ τῶν ὀλδράων ποιεῦντες ἄρτους, 
+τοὺς ἐκεῖνοι κυλλήστις T οἴνω δὲ ἐκ 
+κριθέων πεποιημένῳ διαχρέωνται: οὐ γάρ σφι 
+εἰσὶ ἐν τῇ χώρῃ ἄμπελοι. ἰχθύων δὲ τοὺς μὲν 
+πρὸς ἥλιον αὐήναντες ὠμοὺς σιτέονται, τοὺς δὲ 
+ἐξ ἄλμης τεταριχευμένους. ὀρνίθων δὲ τούς τε 
+ὄρτυγας καὶ τὰς νήσσας καὶ τὰ μικρὰ τῶν ὀρνίθων 
+ὠμὰ σιτέονται π οταριχεύσαντες. τὰ δὲ ἄλλα 
+ὅσα ὴ ὀρνίθων ἢ i ἰχθύων σφι ἐστὶ ἐ ἐχόμενα, χωρὶς 
+ἢ ὁκόσοι σφι ἱροὶ ἀποδεδέχαται, τοὺς λοιποὺς 
+ὀπτοὺς καὶ ἑφθοὺς σιτέονται. 
+
+78. Ev δὲ τῆσι συνουσίῃσι τοῖσι εὐδαίμοσι 
+αὐτῶν, ἐπεὰν ἀπὸ δείπνου γένωνται, περιφέρει 
+ἀνὴρ νεκρὸν ἐν σορῷ ξύλινον πεποιημένον, μεμιμη- 
+μένον ἐς τὰ μάλιστα, καὶ γραφῇ καὶ ἔργῳ, μέγαθος 
+ὅσον τε πηχυαῖον ὴ δίπηχυν, δεικνὺς ὲ ἑκάστῳ 
+τῶν συμποτέων λέγει Es τοῦτον ὀρέων. πῖνέ τε 
+καὶ τέρπευ' ἔσεαι γὰρ ἀποθανὼν τοιοῦτος. ταῦτα 
+μὲν παρὰ τὰ συμπόσια ποιεῦσι. 
+
+79. Ἡατρίοισι δὲ χρεώμενοι νόμοισι ἄλλον où- 
+δένα ἐ ἐπικτῶνται τοῖσι ἄλλα τε ἐπάξια ἐστὶ νό- 
+pia, καὶ δὴ καὶ ἄεισμα ἕν ἐστι, Λίνος, ὅσπερ ἔν τε 
+Φοινίκη ἀοίδιμος ἐστὶ καὶ ἐν Κύπρῳ καὶ ἄλλη, κατὰ 
+
+t MSS. πάντῃ πηχυαῖον ; Stein brackets πάντῃ, ‘‘a cubit's 
+length every way ” being unintelligible here. 
+
+
+364 
+
+
+μπας πμ E CN 
+
+
+aa Wao ee το πο Miaa brini ασ ο. — — πο * = -- 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΙ. 77-79 
+
+
+it is from the food which they eat that all sick- 
+nesses come to men. Even without this, the 
+Egyptians are the healthiest of all men, next to 
+the Libyans; the reason of which to my thinking 
+is that the climate in all seasons is the same; for 
+change is the great cause of men's falling sick, more 
+especially changes of seasons. They eat bread, 
+making loaves which they call * cyllestis ” 1 of coarse 
+grain. For wine, they use a drink made of barley ; 
+for they have no vines in their country. They 
+eat fish uncooked, either dried in the sun or pre- 
+served with brine. Quails and ducks and small birds 
+are salted and eaten raw ; all other kinds of birds, 
+as well as fish (except those that the Egyptians hold 
+sacred) are eaten roast and boiled. 
+
+78. At rich men’s banquets, after dinner a man 
+carries round a wooden image of a corpse in a coflin, 
+painted and carved in exact imitation, a cubit or two 
+cubits long. This he shows to each of the company, - 
+saying “ Drink and make merry, but look on this ; for 
+such shalt thou be when thou art dead." Suchisthe 
+
+
+_ custom at their drinking-bouts. 
+
+
+79. They keep the ordinances of their fathers, and 
+add none others to them. Among other notable 
+customs of theirs is this, that they have one song, the 
+Linus-song,? which is sung in Phoenice and Cyprus 
+
+1 Loaves twisted to a point, apparently. 
+
+? This is the hymn for a slain youth (said to typify the 
+departure of early summer), Thammuz, Atys, H las, or 
+
+
+Linus; the Semitic refrain ai lenu, **alas for us," becomes 
+the Greek αἴλινος, from! which comes the name Linus, 
+
+
+pcm 365 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μέντοι ἔθνεα οὔνομα ἔχει, συμφέρεται δὲ ὡυτὸς 
+εἶναι τὸν OL “Ελληνες Λίνον ὀνομάζοντες ἀείδουσι, 
+ὥστε πολλὰ μὲν καὶ ἄλλα ἀποθωμάζειν µε τῶν 
+περὶ Αἴγυπτον ἐόντων, ἐν δὲ δὴ καὶ τὸν Λίνον 
+ὁκόθεν ἔλαβον τὸ οὔνομα φαίνονται δὲ αἰεί κοτε 
+τοῦτον ἀείδοντες. ἔστι δὲ Αἰγυπτιστὶ ὁ Λίνος 
+καλεύμενος Μανερῶς. ἔφασαν δέ μιν Αἰγύπτιοι 
+τοῦ πρώτου βασιλεύσαντος Αἰγύπτου παῖδα pov- 
+νογενέα γενέσθαι, ἀποθανόντα δὲ αὐτὸν ἄνωρον 
+θρήνοισι τούτοισι ὑπὸ Αἰγυπτίων τιμηθῆναι, καὶ 
+ἀοιδήν τε ταύτην πρώτην καὶ μούνην σφίσι 
+γενέσθαι. 
+
+80. Συμφέρονται δὲ καὶ τόδε ἄλλο Αἰγύπτιοι 
+Ἑλλήνων μούνοισι Λακεδαιμονίοισι: οἱ νεώτεροι 
+αὐτῶν τοῖσι πρεσβυτέροισι συντυγχάνοντες 
+εἴκουσι τῆς ὁδοῦ καὶ ἐκτ άπονται καὶ ἐπιοῦσι ἐξ 
+ἕδρης ὑπανιστέαται. τόδε μέντοι ἄλλοισι Ἑλ- 
+λήνων οὐδαμοῖσι συμφέρονται: ἀντὶ τοῦ προσα- 
+γορεύειν ἀλληήλους. ἐν τῇσι ὁδοῖσι προσκυνέουσι 
+αν µέχρι τοῦ γούνατος τὴν χεῖρα. 
+
+᾿Ενδεδύκασι δὲ κιθῶνας λινέους περὶ, τὰ 
+^ on θυσανωτούς, τοὺς καλέουσι καλασίρις' 
+ἐπὶ τούτοισι δὲ εἰρίνεα εἵματα λευκὰ ἐπαναβληδὸν 
+φορέουσι. ov μέντοι ἔς γε τὰ ἱρὰ ἐσφέρεται͵ εἰρί- 
+νεα οὐδὲ συγκαταθάπτεταί σφι' οὐ γὰρ ὅσιον. 
+ὁμολογέουσι δὲ ταῦτα τοῖσι Ὀρφικοῖσι καλεομέ- 
+νοισι καὶ Ῥακχικοῖσι, ἐοῦσι δὲ Αἰγυπτίοισι καὶ 
+II υθαγορείοισι' οὐδὲ γὰρ τούτων τῶν ὀργίων µετέ- 
+χοντα ὅσιον ἐστὶ ἐν εἰρινέοισι εἵμασι θαφθῆναι. 
+τ δὲ περὶ αὐτῶν ἱρὸς λόγος λεγόμενος. 
+83. Καὶ τάδε ἄλλα Αἰγυπτίοισι ἐστὶ ἐξευρη- 
+μένα, peis τε καὶ ἡμέρη ἑκάστη θεῶν ὅτευ ἐστί, 
+366 
+
+
+. UU = = E = -ᾱ- = ah -- 
+
+
+BOOK Il. 79-82 
+
+
+and elsewhere; each nation has a name of its own for 
+this, but it is the same song that the Greeks sing, 
+and call Linus; wherefore it is to me one of the 
+many strange things in Egypt, whence the Egyptians 
+got the name. Plainly they have ever sung this song ; 
+the name for Linus in Egyptian is Maneros.! The 
+Egyptians told me that Maneros was the only son 
+of their first king, who died untimely, and this 
+dirge was sung by the Egyptians in his honour; 
+and this, they said, was their earliest and their only 
+chant. | 
+
+80. There is à custom too which no Greeks save 
+the Lacedaemonians have in common with the 
+Egyptians:—younger men, when they meet their 
+elders, turn aside and give place to them in the way, 
+and rise from their seats when an older man 
+approaches. But they have another custom which is 
+nowhere known in Greece: passers-by do not address 
+each other, but salute by lowering the hand to the 
+knee. 
+
+81. They wear linen tunics with fringes hanging 
+about the legs, called * calasiris," and loose white 
+woollen mantles over these. But nothing of wool is 
+brought into temples, or buried with them; that is 
+forbidden. In this they follow the same rule as the 
+ritual called Orphic and Bacchic, but which is in 
+truth Egyptian and Pythagorean; for neither may 
+those initiated into these rites be buried in woollen 
+wrappings. There is a sacred legend about this. 
+
+82. I pass to other inventions of the Egyptians. 
+They assign each month and each day to some god; 
+
+
+1 Maneros, probably from the refrain ma-n-hra, *'come 
+back to us,” 
+
+
+367 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+καὶ τῇ ἕκαστος ἡμέρῃ γενόμενος ὁτέοισι ἐγκυρήσει 
+καὶ ὅκως τελευτήσει καὶ ὁκοῖός τις ἔσται. καὶ 
+τούτοισι τῶν Ἑλλήνων οἱ ἐν ποιήσι γενόμενοι 
+ἐχρήσαντο. τέρατά τε πλέω σφι ἀνεύρηται Ù 
+τοῖσι ἄλλοισι ἅπασι ἀνθρώποισι' γενομένου γὰρ 
+τέρατος φυλάσσουσι γραφόμενοι τὠποβαῖνον, 
+καὶ ἣν κοτε ὕστερον παραπλήσιον τούτῳ γένηται, 
+κατὰ τὠυτὸ νομίζουσι ἀποβήσεσθαι. 
+
+83. Μαντικὴ δὲ αὐτοῖσι ὧδε διακέεται' ἀνθρω- 
+πων μὲν οὐδενὶ προσκέεται ἡ τέχνη, τῶν δὲ θεῶν 
+μετεξετέροισι' καὶ γὰρ Ἡρακλέος μαντήιον αὐτόθι 
+ἐστὶ καὶ Απόλλωνος καὶ Αθηναίης καὶ ᾿Αρτέμιδος 
+καὶ "Αρεος καὶ Διός, καὶ τό γε μάλιστα ἐν τιμῇ 
+ἄγονται πάντων τῶν μαντηίων, Λητοῦς ἐν Βουτοῖ 
+πόλι ἐστί. οὐ μέντοι αἵ γε μαντηίαι σφι κατὰ 
+τὠυτὸ ἑστᾶσι, ἀλλὰ διάφοροι εἰσί. 
+
+84. Ἡ δὲ ἰητρικὴ κατὰ τάδε σφι δέδασται᾽ 
+μιῆς νούσου ἕκαστος ἰητρός ἐστι καὶ οὐ πλεόνων. 
+πάντα δ᾽ ἰητρῶν ἐστι πλέα' of μὲν γὰρ ὀςθαλμῶν 
+ἰητροὶ κατεστᾶσι, οἳ δὲ κεφαλῆς, οἳ δὲ ὀδόντων, οἳ 
+δὲ τῶν κατὰ νηδύν, οἳ δὲ τῶν ἀφανέων νούσων. 
+
+85. Θρῆνοι δὲ καὶ ταφαί σφεων εἰσὶ aide’ τοῖσι 
+ἂν ἀπογένηται ἐκ τῶν οἰκίων ἄνθρωπος τοῦ τις 
+καὶ λόγος ᾖ, τὸ θῆλυ γένος πᾶν τὸ ἐκ τῶν οἰκίων 
+τούτων Kat ὧν ἐπλάσατο τὴν κεφαλὴν πηλῷ Ù 
+καὶ τὸ πρόσωπον, κἄπειτα ἐν τοῖσι οἰκίοισι λι- 
+ποῦσαι τὸν νεκρὸν αὐταὶ ἀνὰ τὴν πόλιν στρωφώ- 
+μεναι τύπτονται ἐπεζωσμέναι καὶ φαίνουσαι τοὺς 
+μαξούς, σὺν δέ σφι αἱ προσήκουσαι πᾶσαι, ἑτέρω- 
+θεν δὲ οἱ ἄνδρες, τύπτονται ἐπεζωμένοι καὶ οὗτοι. 
+ἐπεὰν δὲ ταῦτα ποιήσωσι, οὕτω ἐς τὴν ταρίχευσιν 
+κομέζουσι. 
+
+
+368 
+
+
+BOOK II. 82-85 
+
+
+they can tell what fortune and what end and what 
+disposition a man shall have according to the day of 
+his birth. This has given material to Greeks who deal 
+in poetry. They have made themselves more omens 
+than all other nations together; when an ominous 
+thing happens they take note of the outcome and 
+write it down; and if something of a like kind 
+happen again they think it will have a like result. 
+
+83. As to the art of divination among them, it 
+belongs to some of the gods, but to no one among 
+men ; there are in their country oracles of Heracles, 
+Apollo, Athene, Artemis, Ares, and Zeus, and (which 
+is the most honoured of all) of Leto in the town of 
+Buto, Nevertheless they have diverse ways of divin- 
+ation, not one only. 
+
+84. The practice of medicine is so divided among 
+them, that each physician is a healer of one disease 
+and no more. All the country is full of physicians, 
+some of the eye, some of the teeth, some of what 
+
+
+- pertains to the belly, and some of the hidden diseases. 
+
+
+85. They mourn and bury the dead as I will show. 
+Whenever a man of note is lost to his house by death, 
+all the womenkind of the house daub their faces or 
+heads with mud; then, with all the women of their 
+kin, they leave the corpse in the house, and roam 
+about the city lamenting, with their garments girt 
+round them and their breasts showing ; and the men 
+too lament in their place, with garments girt likewise. 
+When this is done, they take the dead body to be 
+embalmed. 
+
+369 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+86. Γἰσὶ δὲ ob ἐπ αὐτῷ τούτω κατέαται καὶ 
+τέχνην ἔχουσι ταύτην. οὗτοι, ἐπεάν σφι κομισθῇ 
+νεκρός, δεικνύουσι τοῖσι κομίσασι παραδείγματα 
+νεκρῶν ξύλινα, τῇ γραφῇ μεμιμημέναΤ.. ., καὶ τὴν 
+μὲν σπουδαιοτάτην αὐτέων φασὶ εἶναι τοῦ οὐκ ὅσιον 
+ποιεῦμαι τὸ οὔνομα ἐπὶ τοιούτῳ πρήγματι ὀνομά- 
+ἕειν, τὴν δὲ δευτέρην δεικνύουσι ὑποδεεστέρην τε 
+ταύτης καὶ εὐτελεστέρην, τὴν δὲ τρίτην εὐτελε- 
+στάτην' φράσαντες δὲ πυνθάνονται παρ᾽ αὐτῶν 
+κατὰ ἥντινα βούλονταί σφι σκευασθῆναι τὸν 
+νεκρόν. οἳ μὲν δὴ ἐκποδὼν μισθῷ ὁμολογήσαντες 
+ἀπαλλάσσονται, οἳ δὲ ὑπολειπόμενοι ἐν οἰκήμασι 
+ὧδε τὰ σπουδαιότατα ταριχεύουσι. πρῶτα μὲν 
+σκολιῷ σιδήρῳ διὰ τῶν μυξωτήρων ἐξάγουσι τὸν 
+ἐγκέφαλον, τὰ μὲν αὐτοῦ οὕτω ἐξάγοντες, τὰ δὲ 
+ἐγχέοντες φάρμακα" μετὰ δὲ λίθῳ Αἰθιοπικῷ ὀξέι 
+παρασχίσαντες παρὰ τὴν λαπάρην ἐξ ὧν εἶλον τὴν 
+κοιλίην πᾶσαν, ἐκκαθήραντες δὲ αὐτὴν καὶ διηθή- 
+σαντες οἴνῳ φοινικηίῳ αὖτις διηθέουσι θυμιήμασι 
+τετριμμένοισι' ἔπειτα τὴν νηδὺν σμύρνης ἀκηράτου 
+τετριμμένης καὶ κασίης καὶ τῶν ἄλλων θυμιημάτων, 
+πλὴν λιβανωτοῦ, πλήσαντες συρράπτουσι ὀπίσω. 
+ταῦτα δὲ ποιήσαντες ταριχεύουσι λύτρῳ κρύψαν- 
+τες ἡμέρας ἑβδομήκοντα: πλεῦνας δὲ τουτέων οὐκ 
+ἔξεστι ταριχεύειν. ἐπεὰν δὲ παρέλθωσι αἱ ἑβδο- 
+µήκοντα, λούσαντες τὸν νεκρὸν κατειλίσσουσι πᾶν 
+αὐτοῦ τὸ σώμα σινδόνος βυσσίνης τελαμῶσι κατα- 
+` τετμημένοισι, ὑποχρίοντες τῷ κόμμι, τῷ δὴ ἀντὶ 
+κόλλης τὰ πολλὰ χρέωνται Αἰγύπτιοι. ἐνθεῦτεν 
+δὲ παραδεξάμενοί μιν οἱ προσήκοντες ποιεῦνται 
+ξύλινον τύπον ἀνθρωποειδέα, ποιησάμενοι δὲ 
+
+1 MSS. appear to show indications of a lacuna here. 
+
+
+370 
+
+
+BOOK II. 86 
+
+
+86. There are men whose whole business this is 
+and who have this special craft. These, when a dead 
+body is brought to them, show the bringers wooden 
+models of corpses, painted in exact imitation; the 
+most perfect manner of embalming belongs, they say, 
+
+
+to One whose name it were profane for me to speak 
+
+
+in treating of such matters; the second way, which 
+they show, is less perfect than the first, and cheaper, 
+and the third is the least costly of all.. Having 
+shown these, they ask the bringers of the body in 
+which fashion they desire to have it prepared. The 
+bearers, having agreed in a price, go their ways, and 
+the workmen, left behind in their place, embalm the 
+body. If they do this in the most perfect way, they 
+first draw out part of the brain through the nostrils 
+with an iron hook, and inject certain drugs into the 
+rest. Then, making a cut near the flank with a 
+sharp knife of Ethiopian stone, they take out all the 
+intestines, abd clean the belly, rinsing it with palm 
+wine and bruised spices; and presently, filfing the 
+bely with pure ground myrrh and casia and any 
+other spices, save only frankincense, they sew up the 
+anus. Having done this, they conceal the body for 
+seventy days, embalmed in saltpetre ; no longer time 
+is allowed for the embalming ; and when the seventy 
+days are past they wash the body and wrap the whole 
+of it in bandages of fine linen cloth, anointed with gum, 
+which the Egyptians mostly use instead of glue; 
+which done, they give back the dead man to his friends. 
+These make a hollow wooden figure like a man, in 
+
+371 
+
+
+P 
+
+
+| 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐσεργνῦσι τὸν νεκρόν, καὶ κατακληίσαντες οὕτω 
+θησαυρίξουσι è ἐν οἰκήματι θηκαίῳ, ἱστάντες ὀρθὸν 
+πρὸς τοῖχον. 
+
+87. Οὕτω μὲν τοὺς τὰ πολυτελέστατα σκευά- 
+ζουσι νεκρούς, τοὺς δὲ τὰ µέσα βουλομένους τὴν 
+δὲ πολυτελείην φεύγοντας σκευάξουσι ὧδε' ἐπεὰν 
+τοὺς κλυστῆρας πλήσωνται τοῦ ἀπὸ ' κέδρου ἀλεί- 
+φατος γινομένου, ἐν ὧν ἔπλησαν τοῦ νεκροῦ τὴν 
+κοιλίην, οὔτε ἀναταμόντες αὐτὸν οὔτε ἐξελόντες 
+τὴν νηδύν, κατὰ δὲ τὴν ἕδρην ἐσηθήσαντες καὶ ἐπι- 
+λαβόντες τὸ epa. τῆς ὀπίσω 0000 ταριχεύουσι 
+τὰς προκειμένας ἡμέρας, τῇ δὲ τελευταίῃ ἐξιεῖσι 
+ἐκ τῆς κοιλίης τὴν κεδρίην τὴν ἐσῆκαν πρότερον. 
+f) δὲ ἔχει τοσαύτην δύναμιν ὥστε ἅμα ἑωυτῇ τὴν 
+νηδὺν καὶ τὰ σπλάγχνα κατατετηκότα ἐξάγει" 
+τὰς δὲ σάρκας τὸ λύτρον κατατήκει, καὶ δὴ λεύπε- 
+ται τοῦ νεκροῦ τὸ δέρμα μοῦνον καὶ τὰ ὀστέα. 
+ἐπεὰν δὲ ταῦτα ποιήσωσι, aT ὧν ἔδωκαν οὕτω 
+τὸν νεκρόν, οὐδὲν ἔ ἔτι πρηγματευθέντες. 
+
+88. Ἡ δὲ τρίτη ταρίχευσις ἐστὶ ᾖδε, ἣ τοὺς 
+χρήμασι ἀσθενεστέρους σκευάξει' συρμαίῃ διηθη- 
+σαντες THY κοιλιίην ταριχεύουσι τὰς ἑβδομήκοντα 
+
+ἡμέρας καὶ ἔπειτα ἀπ᾽ ὧν ἔδωκαν ἀποφέρεσθαι. 
+
+89. Tas δὲ γυναῖκας τῶν ἐπιφανέων ἀνδρῶν, 
+ἐπεὰν τελευτήσωσι, . οὐ παραυτίκα διδοῦσι ταρι- 
+χεύειν, οὐδὲ ὅσαι ἂν ἔωσι εὐειδέες κάρτα καὶ λόγου 
+πλεῦνος γυναῖκες" ἀλλ᾽ ἐπεὰν τριταῖαι ἢ τεταρ- 
+ταῖαι γένωνται, οὕτω παραδιδοῦσι τοῖσι Tapt- 
+χεύουσι. τοῦτο δὲ ποιεῦσι οὕτω τοῦδε εἵνεκεν, ἵνα 
+µή σφι οἱ ταριχευταὶ μίσγωνται τῇσι γυναιξί᾽ 
+λαμφθῆναι γὰρ τινὰ φασὶ μισγόμενον νεκρῷ 
+προσφάτῳ γυναικός, κατειπεῖν δὲ τὸν ὀὁμότεχνον. 
+
+
+372 
+
+
+BOOK II. 86-89 
+
+
+which they enclose the corpse, shut it up, and pre- 
+serve it safe in a coffin-chamber, placed erect against 
+a wall. 
+
+87. This is how they prepare the dead who 
+have wished for the most costly fashion!; those 
+whose wish was for the middle and less costly 
+way are prepared in another fashion. The em- 
+balmers charge their syringes with cedar oil and 
+therewith fill the belly of the dead man, making no 
+cut, nor removing the intestines, but injecting the 
+drench through the anus and checking it from 
+returning; then they embalm the body for the 
+appointed days; on the last day they let the oil which 
+they poured in pass out again. It has so great power 
+that it brings away the inner parts and intestines all. 
+dissolved ; the flesh is eaten away by the saltpetre, 
+and in the end nothing is left of the body but 
+skin and bone. Then the embalmers give back the 
+dead body with no more ado. 
+
+-88. When they use the third manner of embalming, 
+which is the preparation of the poorer dead, they 
+cleanse the belly with a purge, embalm the body for 
+the seventy days and then give it back to be taken 
+away. 
+
+89. Wives of notable men, and women of great 
+beauty and reputation, are not at once given over to 
+the embalmers, but only after they have been dead 
+for three or four days; this is done, that the 
+embalmers may not have carnal intercourse with 
+them. For it is said that one was found having 
+intercourse with a woman newly dead, and was 
+denounced by his fellow-workman. 
+
+
+1 τοὺς τὰ πολυτελέστατα, 8C. βουλομένους. 
+
+
+373 
+
+
+be. 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+90. Ὃς ὃ ἂν ἡ αὐτῶν Αἰγυπτίων ἡ ξείνων 
+ὁμοίως ὑπὸ κροκοδείλου ἁρπασθεὶς 7) UT αὐτοῦ 
+τοῦ ποταμοῦ φαίνηται. τεθνεώς, κατ᾽ ἣν ἂν πόλιν 
+ἐξενειχθῇ, τούτους πᾶσα ἀνάγκη ἐστὶ ταριχεύ- 
+σαντας αὐτὸν καὶ περιστείλαντας ὡς κάλλιστα 
+θάψαι ἐ ἐν ἱρῆσι θήκῃσι᾽ οὐδὲ ψαῦσαι ἔξεστι αὐτοῦ 
+ἄλλον οὐδένα οὔτε τῶν προσηκόντων οὔτε τῶν 
+φίλων, ἀλλά μιν αἱ ἱρέες αὐτοὶ τοῦ Νείλου ἅτε 
+πλέον τι ἢ ἀνθρώπου νεκρὸν χειραπτάζοντες 
+θάπτουσι. 
+
+91, Ἑλληνικοῖσι: δὲ νομαΐοισι φεύγουσι χρᾶσθαι, 
+τὸ δὲ σύμπαν εἰπεῖν, μηδ᾽ ἄλλων μηδαμὰ μήδα- 
+μῶν ἀνθρώπων νομαίοισι. οἱ μέν νυν ἄλλοι Αἰγύ- 
+πτιοι οὕτω τοῦτο φυλάσσουσι, ἔστι δὲ Νέμμις Tó- 
+Aus µεγάλη νομοῦ τοῦ Θηβαϊκοῦ ἐγγὺς Νέης πό- 
+Atos" ἐν ταύτῃ τῇ πὀλι ἐστὶ Περσέος τοῦ Δανάης 
+ἱρὸν τετράγωνον, πέριξ δὲ αὐτοῦ φοίνικες πεφύ- 
+κασι. τὰ δὲ πρόπυλα. τοῦ ἱροῦ λίθινα ἐστὶ κάρτα 
+μεγάλα ἐπὶ δὲ αὐτοῖσι ἀνδριάντες δύο ἑστᾶσι 
+
+7 ΄ 3 . ^ , ή 
+λίθινοι μεγάλοι. ἐν δὲ τῷ περιβεβλημένῳ τούτῳ 
+νηός τε ἔνι καὶ ἄγαλμα ἐν αὐτῷ ἐνέστηκε τοῦ llep- 
+σέος. οὗτοι οἱ Χεμμῖται λέγουσι τὸν Περσέα 
+πολλάκις μὲν ἀνὰ τὴν γῆν φαίνεσθαί, σφι πολλάκις 
+δὲ ἔσω τοῦ ἱροῦ, σανδάλιόν τε αὐτοῦ πεφορημένον 
+εὑρίσκεσθαι ἐὸν τὸ μέγαθος δίπηχυ, τὸ ἐπεὰν 
+φανῇ, εὐθηνέειν ἅπασαν Αἴγυπτον. ταῦτα μὲν 
+λέγουσι, ποιεῦσι δὲ τάδε "Ἑλληνικὰ τῷ Περσέι" 
+ἀγῶνα γυμνικὸν τιθεῖσι, διὰ πάσης ἀγωνίης ἔχοντα, 
+παρέχοντες ἄεθλα κτήνεα καὶ χλαίνας καὶ δέρ- 
+ματα. εὐρομένου δέ µευ ὅ τι σφι μούνοισι ἔωθε ὁ 
+Περσεὺς ἐπιφαίνεσθαι καὶ ὅ τι κεχωρίδαται 
+Αὐγνπτίων τῶν ἄλλων ἀγῶνα γυμνικὸν τιθέντες, 
+
+
+374 
+
+
+BOOK II, 9go-91 
+
+
+90. When anyone, be he Egyptian or stranger, is 
+known to have been carried off by a crocodile or 
+drowned by the river itself, such an one must by αἱ] 
+means be embalmed and tended as fairly as may be 
+and buried in a sacred coffin by the townsmen of the 
+place where he is cast up; nor may any of his kins- 
+folk or his friends touch him, but his body is deemed 
+something more than human, and is handled and 
+buried by the priests of the Nile themselves. 
+
+91. The Egyptians shun the use of Greek customs, 
+and (to speak generally) the customs of any other 
+men whatever. Yet, though the rest are careful of 
+this, there is a great city called Chemmis, in the 
+Theban province, near the New City; in this city is 
+a square temple of Perseus son of Danae, in a grove 
+of palm trees. The colonnade before this temple is 
+of stone, very great ; and there stand at the entrance 
+two great stone statues. In this outer court there is 
+a shrine with an image of Perseus standing in it. 
+The people of this Chemmis say that Perseus is often 
+seen up and down this land, and often within the 
+temple, and that the sandal he wears is found, and it 
+is two cubits long; when that is seen, all Egypt 
+prospers. This is what they say ; and their doings in 
+honour of Perseus are Greek, in that they celebrate 
+games comprising every form of contest, and offer 
+animals and cloaks and skins as prizes. When I 
+asked why Perseus appeared to them alone, and why, 
+unlike all other Egyptians, they celebrate games, 
+
+
+375 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἔφασαν τὸν Περσέα ἐ ἐκ τῆς ἑωυτῶν πόλιος yeyo- 
+vévat’ τὸν γὰρ Δαναὸν καὶ τὸν Λυγκέα ἐόντας 
+Χεμμίτας ἐκπλῶσαι ἐς τὴν Ἑλλάδα, ἀπὸ δὲ τού- 
+των γενεηλογέοντες κατέβαινον ἐς τὸν Περσέα. 
+ἀπικόμενον δὲ αὐτὸν ἐς Αἴγυπτον κατ᾽ αἰτίην τὴν 
+καὶ Ἕλληνες λέγουσι, οἴσοντα ἐκ Λιβύης τὴν 1 ορ- 
+γοῦς κεφαλήν, ἔφασαν ἐλθεῖν καὶ Tapa σφέας 
+καὶ ἆ ἀναγνῶναι τοὺς συγγενέας πάντας᾽ ᾽ἐκμεμαθη- 
+κότα δέ μιν ἀπικέσθαι ἐς Αἴγυπτον τὸ τῆς Χέμ- 
+ptos οὔνομα, πεπυσµένον παρὰ τῆς μητρός. ἀγῶνα 
+δέ οἱ γυμνικὸν αὐτοῦ. κελεύσαντος ἐπιτελέειν. 
+
+92, Ταῦτα μὲν πάντα οἱ κατύπερθε τῶν ἑλέων 
+οἰκέοντες Αἰγύπτιοι νοµίζουσι οἱ δὲ δὴ ἐν τοῖσι 
+ἕλεσι κατοικημένοι τοῖσι μὲν αὐτοῖσι νόμοισι 
+
+ρέωνται τοῖσι καὶ οἱ ἄλλοι Αἰγύπτιοι, καὶ τὰ 
+ἆλλα καὶ γυναικὶ μιῇ. ἕκαστος αὐτῶν συνοικέει 
+κατά περ "Ἕλληνες, ἀτὰρ πρὸς εὐτελείην τῶν 
+σιτίων τάδε σφι ἄλλα ἐξεύρηται. ἐπεὰν πλήρης 
+γένηται ὁ ποταμὸς καὶ τὰ πεδία πελαγίσῃ, φύεται 
+ἐν τῷ ὕδατι κρίνεα πολλά, τὰ Αἰγύπτιοι καλέουσι 
+λωτόν’ ταῦτ᾽ ἐπεὰν δρέψωσι αὐαίνουσι πρὸς ἥλιον 
+καὶ ἔπειτα τὸ ἐκ μέσου τοῦ λωτοῦ, τῇ μήκωνι ἐὸν 
+ἐμφερές, πτίσαντες ποιεῦνται ἐξ αὐτοῦ ἄρτους 
+ὁπτοὺς πυρί. ἔστι δὲ καὶ ἡ pita τοῦ λωτοῦ τούτου 
+ἐδωδίμη καὶ ἐγγλύσσει ἐπιεικέως, ἐὸν στρογγύλον, 
+μέγαθος κατὰ μῆλον. ἔστι δὲ καὶ ἄλλα κρίνεα 
+ῥόδοισι ἐμφερέα, ἐν τῷ ποταμῷ γινόμενα καὶ 
+ταῦτα, ἐξ ὧν ὁ καρπὸς ἐν ἄλλῃ κάλυκι παραφυο- 
+μένῃ ἐκ τῆς ῥίξης γίνεται, κηρίῳ σφηκῶν ἰδέην 
+ὁμοιότατον" ἐν τούτῳ τρωκτὰ ὅσον τε πυρὴν ἐλαίης 
+ἐγγίνεται συχνά, τρώγεται δὲ καὶ ἁπαλὰ ταῦτα 
+καὶ aba. τὴν δὲ βύβλον τὴν ἐπέτειον γινομένην 
+
+
+376 
+
+
+BOOK II. 91-92 
+
+
+they told me that Perseus was by lineage of their 
+city ; for Danaus and Lynceus, who voyaged to Greece, ` 
+were of Chemmis; and they traced descent from 
+these down to Perseus. They told too how when he 
+came to Egypt for the reason alleged also by the 
+Greeks-—namely, to bring the Gorgon’s head from 
+Libya—he came to Chemmis too and recognised all 
+his kin; and how before he came to Egypt he had 
+heard the name of Chemmis from his mother. It was 
+at his bidding, said they, that they celebrated the 
+games. 
+
+93. All these are the customs of Egyptians who 
+dwell above the marsh country. Those who inhabit 
+the marshes have the same customs as the rest, both 
+in other respects, and in that each man has one wife, 
+as in Greece. They have, besides, devised means to 
+make their food less costly. When the river is in 
+flood and overflows the plains, many lilies, which the 
+Egyptians call lotus, grow in the water. They pluck 
+these and dry them in the sun, then they crush the 
+poppy-like centre of the plant and bake loaves of it. 
+The root also of this lotus is eatable, and of a sweetish 
+taste; it is round, and of the bigness of an apple. 
+Other lilies also grow in the river, which are like 
+roses; the fruit of these is found in a calyx springing 
+from the root by a separate stalk, and is most like to 
+a comb made by wasps; this produces many eatable 
+seeds as big as an olive-stone, which are eaten both 
+fresh and dried. They use also the byblus which 
+
+
+377 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐπεὰν ἀνασπάσωσι ἐκ τῶν ἑλέων, τὰ μὲν ἄνω 
+αὐτῆς ἀποτάμνοντες ἐς ἄλλο τι τράπουσι, τὸ δὲ 
+κάτω λελειμμένον ὅσον τε ἐπὶ πῆχυν τρώγουσι 
+καὶ πωλέουσι 1 οἳ δὲ ἂν καὶ κάρτα βούλωνται 
+χρηστῇ τῇ βύβλῳ χρᾶσθαι, ἐν κλιβάνῳ διαφανέι 
+πνίξαντες οὕτω τρώγουσι. οἳ δὲ τινὲς αὐτῶν 
+ζῶσι ἀπὸ τῶν ἰχθύων μοῦνον, τοὺς ἐπεὰν λάβωσι 
+καὶ ἐξέλωσι τὴν κοιλίην, αὐαίνουσι πρὸς ἥλιον καὶ 
+ἔπειτα αὔους ἐόντας σιτέονται. 
+
+98. Οἱ δὲ ἐχθύες οἱ ἀγελαῖοι ἐν μὲν τοῖσι ποτα- 
+μοῖσι οὐ μάλα γίνονται, τρεφόμενοι δὲ ἐν τῇσι 
+λίμνησι τοιάδε ποιεῦσι. ἐπεάν σφεας ἐσίῃ οἶστρος 
+κυΐσκεσθαι, ἀγεληδὸν ἐκπλώουσι ἐς θάλασσαν' 
+ἡγέονται δὲ οἱ ἔρσενες ἀπορραίνοντες τοῦ θοροῦ, 
+αἳ δὲ ἑπόμεναι ἀνακάπτουσι καὶ ἐξ αὐτοῦ kvi- 
+σκονται. ἐπεὰν δὲ πλήρεες γένωνται ἐν τῇ Üa- 
+λάσσῃ, ἀναπλώουσι ὀπίσω ἐς ἤθεα τὰ ἑωυτῶν 
+ἕκαστοι, ἡγέονται μέντοι γε οὐκέτι οἱ αὐτοί, ἀλλὰ 
+τῶν θηλέων γίνεται ἡ ἡγεμονύη: ἡγεύμεναι δὲ 
+ἀγεληδὸν ποιεῦσι οἷόν περ ἐποίευν οἱ ἔρσενες' τῶν 
+γὰρ GOV ἀπορραίνουσι κατ᾽ ὀλίγους τῶν κέγχρων, 
+οἱ δὲ ἔρσενες καταπίνουσι ἑπόμενοι. εἰσὶ δὲ οἱ 
+κέγχροι οὗτοι ἐχθύες. ἐκ δὲ τῶν περιγινομένων 
+καὶ μὴ καταπινομένων κέγχρων οἱ τρεφόμενοι 
+ἐχθύες γίνονται. of Ò ἂν αὐτῶν ἁλώσι ἐκπλώοντες 
+ἐς θάλασσαν, φαίνονται τετριμμένοι τὰ ἐπ᾽ ἀρι- 
+στερὰ τῶν κεφαλέων, οἳ δ᾽ ἂν ὀπίσω ἀναπλώοντες, 
+τὰ ἐπὶ δεξιὰ τετρίφαται. πάσχουσι δὲ ταῦτα διὰ 
+τόδε" ἐγόμενοι τῆς γῆς ἐπ᾽ ἀριστερὰ καταπλώουσι 
+ἐς θάλασσαν, καὶ ἀναπλώοντες ὀπίσω τῆς αὐτῆς 
+
+1c 
+
+
+win brackets καὶ πωλέουσι, as being inappropriate; it 
+should perhaps come after τράπουσι above. 
+
+
+378 
+
+
+BOOK Il. 92-93 
+
+
+grows annually: it is plucked from the marshes, the 
+top of it cut off and turned to other ends, and the 
+lower part, about a cubit's length, eaten or sold. 
+Those who wish to use the byblus at its very best 
+bake it before eating in a redhot oven. Some live 
+on fish alone. They catch the fish, take out the 
+intestines, then dry them in the sun and eat them 
+dried. 
+
+. 93. Fish that go in shoals do not often come to 
+birth in the river ; they are reared in the lakes, and 
+this is the way with them: when the desire of 
+spawning comes on them, they swim out to sea in 
+shoals, the males leading, and throwing out their 
+seed, while the females come after and swallow it 
+and so conceive. When the females have become 
+pregnant in the sea, then all the fish swim back to 
+their homes ; but now it is the females and not the 
+males who lead the way, going before in a shoal, and 
+(like the males) throwing off ever and anon a few of 
+their eggs (which are like millet-seeds), which the 
+males devour as they follow. These millet-seeds, or 
+eggs, are fish. It is from the surviving eggs, which 
+are not devoured, that the fish which grow come to 
+the birth. Those fish that are caught while swim- 
+ming seawards show bruises on the left side of their 
+heads; those that are caught returning, on the right 
+side. This happens to them because as they swim 
+seawards they keep close to the left bank, and hold 
+
+
+379 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἀντέχονται, ἐγχριμπτόμενοι καὶ ψαύοντες ὡς pá- 
+λιστα, ἵνα δὴ μὴ ἁμάρτοιεν τῆς ὁδοῦ διὰ τὸν ῥόον. 
+ἐπεὰν δὲ πληθύνεσθαι ἄρχηται ὁ Νεῖλος, τά τε 
+κοῖλα τῆς γῆς καὶ τὰ τέλματα τὰ παρὰ τὸν 
+ποταμὸν πρῶτα ἄρχεται πίμπλασθαι διηθέοντος 
+τοῦ ὕδατος ἐκ τοῦ ποταμοῦ" καὶ αὐτίκα τε πλέα 
+γίνεται ταῦτα καὶ παραχρῆμα ἰχθύων σμικρῶν 
+πίμπλαται πάντα. κόθεν δὲ οἰκὸς αὐτοὺς γίνε- 
+σθαι, ἐγώ μοι δοκέω κατανοέειν τοῦτο' τοῦ προ- 
+τέρου ἔτεος ἐπεὰν ἀπολύπῃ, ὁ Νεῖλος, οἱ ἰχθύες 
+ἐντεκόντες Wà ἐς τὴν ἐλὺν ἅμα τῷ ἐσχάτῳ ὕδατι 
+ἀπαλλάσσονται" ἐπεὰν δὲ περιελθόντος τοῦ χρόνου 
+πάλιν ἐπέλθῃ τὸ ὕδωρ, ἐκ τῶν Qv τούτων Tap- 
+αυτίκα γίνονται οἱ ἐχθύες οὗτοι. 
+
+94. Καὶ περὶ μὲν τοὺς ἐχθύας οὕτω ἔχει. ἀλεί- 
+φατι δὲ χρέωνται Αἰγυπτίων οἱ περὶ τὰ ἕλεα 
+οἰκέοντες ἀπὸ τῶν σιλλικυπρίων τοῦ καρποῦ, τὸ 
+καλεῦσι μὲν Αἰγύπτιοι rikt, ποιεῦσι δὲ ὧδε. 
+παρὰ τὰ χείλεα τῶν τε ποταμῶν καὶ τῶν λιμνέων 
+σπείρουσι τὰ σιλλικύπρια ταῦτα, τὰ ἐν “Ἕλλησι 
+αὐτόματα ἄγρια φύεται: ταῦτα ἐν τῇ Αἰγύπτῳ 
+σπειρόμενα καρπὸν φέρει πολλὸν μὲν δυσώδεα δέ" 
+τοῦτον ἐπεὰν συλλέξωνται, οἳ μὲν κὀψαντες ἀπι- 
+ποῦσι, οἳ δὲ καὶ φρύξαντες ἀπέψουσι, καὶ τὸ 
+ἀπορρέον ἀπ᾽ αὐτοῦ συγκοµίζονται. ἔστι δὲ πῖον 
+καὶ οὐδὲν ἧσσον τοῦ ἐλαίου τῷ λύχνῳ προσηνές, 
+ὀδμὴν δὲ βαρέαν παρέχεται. 
+
+95. Πρὸς δὲ τοὺς κώνωπας ἀφθόνους ἐόντας 
+τάδε σφι ἐστὶ μεμηχανημένα. τοὺς μὲν τὰ ἄνω 
+τῶν ἑλέων οἰκέοντας οἱ πύργοι ὠφελέουσι, ἐς τοὺς 
+ἀναβαίνοντες κοιμῶνται: οἱ γὰρ κώνωπες ὑπὸ 
+τῶν ἀνέμων οὐκ οἷοί τε εἰσὶ ὑψοῦ πέτεσθαι. τοῖσι 
+
+
+380 
+
+
+πο -wwe . 
+
+
+ὃς À -α 
+
+
+m- "Ἢ - HE 
+
+
+σον, ο uM 
+
+
+ON oo —————— iS --mL—— 4 E — 
+
+
+BOOK II. 93-95 
+
+
+to the same bank also in their return, grazing it and 
+touching it as much as they may, I suppose lest the 
+current should make them miss their course. When 
+the Nile begins to rise, hollow and marshy places 
+near the river are the first to begin to fill, the water 
+trickling through from the river, and as soon as they 
+are flooded they are suddenly full of little fishes. 
+Whence it is like that these come into being I 
+believe that I can guess, When the Nile falls, the 
+fish have spawned into the mud before they leave it 
+with the last of the water; and as the time comes 
+round, and in the next year the flood comes again, 
+this spawn at once gives birth to these fishes. 
+
+94. So much then for the fishes. The Egyptians 
+who live about the marshes use an oil drawn from the 
+castor-berry, which they call kiki. They sow this 
+plant on the banks of the rivers and lakes; it grows 
+wild in Hellas; in Egypt it produces abundant but 
+ill-smelling fruit, which is gathered, and either 
+bruised and pressed, or boiled after roasting, and the 
+liquid that comes from it collected. — This is thick 
+and as useful as oil for lamps, and gives off a strong 
+smell. 
+
+95. Gnats are abundant ; this is how the Egyptians 
+protect themselves against them: those who dwell 
+higher up than the marshy country are well served 
+by the towers whither they ascend to sleep, for the 
+winds prevent the gnats from flying aloft; those 
+
+
+381 
+
+
+ia 
+T d 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δὲ περὶ τὰ ἕλεα οἰκέουσι τάδε ἀντὶ τῶν πύργων 
+ἄλλα μεμηχάνηται" πᾶς ἀνὴρ αὐτῶν ἀμφίβλη- 
+στρον ἔκτηται, τῷ τῆς μὲν ἡμέρης ἰχθῦς ἀγρεύει, 
+τὴν δὲ νύκτα τάδε αὐτῷ χρᾶται" ἐν τῇ ἀναπαύεται 
+κοίτῃ, περὶ ταύτην ἵστησι τὸ ἀμφίβληστρον καὶ 
+ἔπειτα ἐνδὺς i ὑπ᾽ αὐτὸ κατεύδει. οἱ δὲ κώνωπες, 
+ἣν μὲν ἐν ἱματίῳ ἐνειλιξάμενος εὔδῃ ἢ σινδόνι, 
+διὰ τούτων. δάκνουσι, διὰ δὲ τοῦ δικτύου οὐδὲ 
+πειρῶνται ἀρχήν. 
+
+96. Τὰ δὲ δὴ πλοῖά σφι, τοῖσι φορτηγέουσι, 
+ἐστὶ ἐκ τῆς ἀκάνθης ποιεύμενα, τῆς 7 μορφὴ μὲν 
+ἐστὶ ὁμοιοτάτη τῷ Κυρηναίῳ λωτῷ, τὸ δὲ δάκρυον 
+κύμμι ἐστί. ἐκ ταύτης ὧν τῆς ἀκάνθης κοψάµενοι 
+ξύλα ὅσον τε διπήχεα πλινθηδὸν συντιθεῖσι 
+ναυπηγεύμενοι τρόπον τοιόνδε: περὶ γόμφους mv- 
+κνοὺς καὶ μακροὺς περιείρουσι τὰ διπήχεα ξύλα" 
+ἐπεὰν δὲ τῷ τρόπῳ τούτῳ ναυπηγήσωνται, ζυγὰ 
+ἐπιπολῆς τείνουσι αὐτῶν: νομεῦσι δὲ οὐδὲν 
+χρέωνται" ἔσωθεν δὲ τὰς ἁρμονίας ἐν ὧν ἐπάκ- 
+τωσαν τῇ βύβλῳ. πηδάλιον δὲ ἓν ποιεῦνται, 
+καὶ τοῦτο διὰ τῆς τρόπιος διαβύνεται. ἱστῷ δὲ 
+ἀκανθίνῳ χρέωνται, ἱ ἱστίοισι δὲ βυβλίνοισι. ταῦτα 
+τὰ πλοῖα ἀνὰ μὲν τὸν ποταμὸν οὐ δύναται πλέειν, 
+ἣν μὴ πμ. ἄνεμος ἐπέχῃ, ἐκ γῆς δὲ παρ- 
+έλκεται, κατ ῥόον δὲ κομίζεται woe: ἔστι. ἐκ 
+μυρίκης πεποιημένη θύρη, κατερραμμένη ῥύπεϊ 
+καλάμων, καὶ λίθος τετρημένος διτάλαντος μά- 
+λιστά «n σταθµόν' τούτων τὴν μὲν θύρην δεδε- 
+μένην κάλῳ ἔμπροσθε τοῦ πλοίου ἀπιεῖ ἐπι- 
+φέρεσθαι, τὸν δὲ λίθον ἄλλῳ κάλῳ ὄπισθε. ἡ 
+μὲν δὴ θύρη ᾿ τοῦ ῥόου ἐμπίπτοντος χωρέει ταχέως 
+καὶ ἕλκει τὴν βᾶριν (τοῦτο γὰρ δὴ οὔνομα ἐστὶ 
+
+
+382 
+
+
+eS = = T- um αν r ë 
+
+
+ga am αμα -— = um JUR — See 
+
+
+BOOK II. 95-96 
+
+
+living about the marshes have a different device, 
+instead of the towers. Every man of them has a net, 
+with which he catches fish by day, and for the night 
+he sets it round the bed where he rests, then creeps 
+under it and so sleeps. If he sleep wrapped in a 
+garment or cloth, the gnats bite through it; but 
+through the net they do not even try at all to 
+bite. 
+
+96. The boats in which they carry cargo are made 
+of the acacia,! which is in form most like to the lotus 
+of Cyrene, and its sap is gum. Of this tree they cut 
+logs of two cubits length and lay them like courses 
+of bricks,? and build the boat by making these two- 
+cubit logs fast to long and close-set stakes; and 
+
+
+having so built they set crossbeams athwart and on 
+
+
+the logs. They use no ribs. They caulk the seams 
+
+
+within with byblus. There is one rudder, passing 
+
+
+through a hole in the boat’s keel. The mast is of 
+acacia-wood and the sails of byblus. These boats 
+cannot move upstream unless a brisk breeze con- 
+tinue; they are towed from the bank; but down- 
+stream they are thus managed: they have a raft 
+made of tamarisk wood, fastened together with 
+matting of reeds, and a pierced stone of about two 
+talents’ weight ; the raft is let go to float down ahead 
+of the boat, made fast to it by a rope, and the stone 
+is made fast also by a rope to the after part of the 
+boat. So, driven by the current, the raft floats 
+
+
+᾽ swiftly and tows the “ baris ” (which is the name of 
+
+
+1 The ** Mimosa Nilotica,” still used for boat-building in 
+Egypt. 
+? That is, like bricks laid not one directly over ànother 
+
+
+but with the joints alternating : t ον. | T i ^ 
+
+
+383 
+
+
+Αἱ 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τοῖσι πλοίοισι τούτοισι), ὁ δὲ λίθος ὄπισθε 
+ἐπελκόμενος καὶ ἐὼν ἐν βυσσῷ κατιθύνει τὸν 
+πλόον. ἔστι δέ σφι τὰ πλοῖα ταῦτα πλήθεϊ 
+πολλά, καὶ ἄγει ἔνια πολλὰς χιλιάδας ταλάντων. 
+
+97. Ἐπεὰν δὲ ἐπέλθη ὁ o Νεῖλος τὴν χώρην, αἱ 
+πόλιες μοῦναι φαίνονται ὑπερέχουσαι, μάλιστά 
+κῃ ἐμφερέες | τῇσι ἐν τῷ Αἰγαίῳ πόντῳ νήσοισι" 
+τὰ μὲν γὰρ ἄλλα τῆς Αἰγύπτου πέλαγος γίνεται, 
+
+
+αἱ δὲ πόλιες -μοῦναι ὑπερέχουσι. πορθμεύονται 
+
+
+ὧν, ἐπεὰν τοῦτο γένηται, οὐκέτι κατὰ τὰ ῥέεθρα 
+τοῦ ποταμοῦ ἀλλὰ διὰ μέσου τοῦ πεδίου. ἐς μέν 
+ye Μέμφιν ἐκ Ναυκράτιος ἀναπλώοντι παρ᾽ αὐτὰς 
+τὰς πυραμίδας γίνεται. ὁ πλόος" ἔστι δὲ οὐδ' οὗτος, 
+ἀλλὰ παρὰ τὸ ὀξὺ τοῦ Δέλτα καὶ παρὰ Κερκά- 
+σωρον πόλιν: ἐς δὲ Ναύκρατιν ἀπὸ θαλάσσης καὶ 
+Κανώβου διὰ πεδίου πλέων ἥξεις κατ᾽ ᾿Ανθυλλάν 
+τε πόλιν καὶ τὴν ᾿Αρχάνδρου καλευμένην. 
+
+98. Τουτέων δὲ ἡ μὲν "Ανθυλλα ἐοῦσα λογίμη 
+πόλις ἐς ὑποδήματα ἐξαίρετος δίδοται τοῦ αἰεὶ . 
+βασιλεύοντος Αἰγύπτου τῇ γυναικί (τοῦτο δὲ 
+γίνεται ἐξ ὅσου ὑπὸ Πέρσῃσι ἐστὶ Αἴγυπτος), 7) 
+δὲ -ἑτέρη πόλις δοκέει μοι τὸ οὔνομα. ἔχειν ἀπὸ 
+τοῦ Δαναοῦ γαμβροῦ ᾿Αρχάνδρου τοῦ Φθίου τοῦ 
+᾿Αχαιοῦ- καλέεται γὰρ δὴ ᾿Αρχάνδρου. πόλις. ein 
+ὃ ἂν καὶ ἄλλος τις "Αρχανὸρος, ov μέντοι γε 
+ττιον τὸ οὔνομα, 
+
+Μέχρι μὲν τούτου ὄψεις τε ἐμὴ καὶ νώ 
+
+ἱστορί ταῦτα λέγουσα ἐστί, τὸ δὲ ἀπὸ τοῦδε 
+Αἰγυπτίους ἔρχομαι λόγους ἐρέων κατὰ τὰ ἤκουον: 
+πρξοξοταζ δὲ ἀὐτοῖοί τὸ καὶ τῆς Quis φρο. 
+
+
+Μῖνα τὸν πρῶτον βασιλεύσαντα Αἰγύπτου οἱ 
+
+
+384 
+
+
+BOOK II. 96-99 
+
+
+these boats,) and the stone dragging behind on the 
+river bottom keeps the boat's course straight. There 
+are many of these boats ; some are of many thousand 
+
+
+| talents' burden. 
+
+
+97. When the Nile overflows the land, the towns 
+alone are seen high and dry above the water, very 
+like to the islands in the Aegean sea. These alone 
+stand out, the rest of Egypt being a sheet of water. 
+So when this happens folk are ferried not,as is their 
+wont, in the course of the stream, but clean over the 
+plain. From Naucratis indeed to Memphis the boat 
+going upwards passes close by the pyramids them- 
+selves ; 1 the usual course is not this, but by the 
+
+
+Delta's point and the town Cercasorus: but your 
+
+
+voyage from the sea and Canobus to Naucratis will 
+take you over the plain near the town of Anthylla 
+and that which is called Archandrus' town. 
+
+98. Anthylla is a town of some name, and is 
+specially assigned to the consort of the reigning king 
+of Egypt, for the provision of her shoes. This has 
+been done since Egypt has been under Persian | 
+dominion. The other town, I think, is named after 
+Archandrus son of Phthius the Achaean, and son-in- 
+law of Danaus; for it is called Archandrus’ town. 
+It may be that there was another Archandrus; but 
+the name is not Egyptian. 
+
+99. Thus far all 1 have said is the outcome of my 
+own sight and judgment and inquiry. Henceforth . 
+I will record Egyptian chronicles, according to that 
+which I have heard, adding thereto somewhat of 
+what I myself have seen. The priests told me that 
+Min was the first king of Egypt, and that first he 
+
+1 The meaning of these words is not clear. Some think 
+
+
+that they mean ‘‘though here the course is not so? aud 
+that perhaps ὁ ἑωθώς has been lost after οὗτος. 
+385 
+
+
+| E» 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ipées ἔλεγον τοῦτο μὲν ἀπογεφυρῶσαι τὴν Ménu- 
+φιν. τὸν γὰρ ποταμὸν πάντα ῥέειν παρὰ τὸ ὄρος 
+τὸ ψ άμμινον πρὸς Λιβύης, τὸν δὲ Miva ἄνωθεν, 
+ὅσον τε ἑκατὸν σταδίους ἀπὸ Μ έμϕιος, τὸν πρὸς 
+μεσαμβρίης à ἀγκῶνα προσχώσαντα τὸ μὲν ἀρχαῖον 
+ῥέεθρον ἀποξηρῆναι, τὸν δὲ ποταμὸν ὀχετεῦσαι 
+τὸ μέσον τῶν ὀρέων ῥέειν. ἔτι δὲ καὶ νῦν ὑπὸ 
+Περσέων ὁ ἀγκὼν οὗτος τοῦ Νείλου ὡς ἀπεργ- 
+μένος ῥέῃ. ἐν φυλακῇσι μεγάλῃσι ἔχεται, φρασ- 
+σόμενος ava, πᾶν ἔτος" εἰ γὰρ ἐθελήσει ῥήξας 
+ὑπερβῆναι ὁ ποταμὸς ταύτῃ, Ky υνος πάση 
+Μέμφι κατακλυσθῆναι. ἐστί. ὡς δὲ τῷ Mw 
+τούτῳ τῷ πρώτῳ γενομένῳ βασιλέι χέρσον yeyo- 
+νέναι τὸ ἀπεργμένον, τοῦτο μὲν ἐν αὐτῷ πόλιν 
+κτίσαι ταύτην ἥτις νῦν Μέμφις καλέεται: ἔστι 
+γὰρ καὶ ἡ Μέμφις ἐν τῷ στεινῷ τῆς Αἰγύπτου: 
+ἔξωθεν δὲ αὐτῆς περιορύξαι λίμνην ἐκ τοῦ πο- 
+ταμοῦ πρὸς βορέην τε καὶ πρὸς ἑσπέρην (τὸ yàp. 
+πρὸς τὴν ἠῶ αὐτὸς ὁ Νεῖλος ἀπέργει), τοῦτο δὲ 
+τοῦ Ἡφαίστου τὸ ἱρὸν ἱδρύσασθαι ἐν αὐτῇ, ἐὸν 
+μέγα τε καὶ ἀξιαπηγητότατον. 
+
+100. Μετὰ δὲ τοῦτον κατέλεγον οἱ ipées 
+ἐκ Βύβλου ἄλλων βασιλέων «τριηκοσίων καὶ 
+τριήκοντα οὐνόματα. ἐν τοσαύτῃσι δὲ γενεῇσι 
+ἀνθρώπων ὀκτωκαίδεκα psy Αἰθίοπες ἦσαν, 
+μία δὲ γυνὴ ἐπιχωρίη, δὲ ἄλλοι ἄνδρες 
+Αἰγύπτιοι. τῇ δὲ γυναικὶ οὔνομα ἣν, ἥτις 
+ἐβασίλευσε, τό περ τῇ Βαβυλωνίῃ, Νίύτωκρις" 
+τὴν ἔλεγον τιμωρέουσαν ἀδελφεῷ, τὸν Αὐγύ- 
+πτιοι βασιλεύοντα σφέων ἀπέκτειναν, ἀπο- 
+κτείναντες δὲ οὕτω ἐκείνῃ ἀπέδοσαν τὴν βα- 
+σιληίην, τούτῳ τιμωρέουσαν πολλοὺς Αἰγυπτίων 
+
+
+386 
+
+
+πμ 0 x — = = — που e ο" νο ο LO w U-—" EL ται S RC 
+4 
+
+
+i | — PR"  — Kt c “ΠΕ 
+x 
+
+
+BOOK II. 99-100 
+
+
+separated Memphis from the Nile by a dam. All the 
+river had flowed close under the sandy mountains on 
+the Libyan side, but Min made the southern bend 
+of it which begins about an hundred furlongs above 
+Memphis, by damming the stream ; thereby he dried 
+up the ancient course, and carried the river by a 
+channel so that it flowed midway between the hills. 
+And to this day the Persians keep careful guard over 
+this bend of the river, strengthening its dam every 
+year, that it may keep the current in; for were the 
+Nile to burst his dykes and overfiow here, all Memphis 
+were in danger of drowning. Then, when this first 
+king Min had made what he thus cut off to be dry 
+land, he first founded in it that city which is now 
+called Memphis—for even Memphis lies in the narrow 
+part of Egypt—and outside of it he dug a lake to its 
+north and west, from the river (the Nile itself being 
+the eastern boundary of the place); and secondly, he 
+built in it the great and most noteworthy temple of 
+Hephaestus. 
+
+100. After him came three hundred and thirty 
+kings, whose names the priests recited from a papyrus 
+roll. In all these many generations there were 
+eighteen Ethiopian kings, and one queen, native to - 
+the country; the rest were all Egyptian men. The 
+name of the queen was the same as that of the 
+Babylonian princess, Nitocris. She, to avenge her 
+brother (he was king of Egypt and was slain by his 
+subjects, who then gave Nitocris the sovereignty) put 
+
+
+387 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+διαφθεῖραι δόλῳ. ποιησαμένην γάρ μιν οἴκημα 
+περίµηκες ὑπόγαιον καινοῦν τῷ λόγῳ, νόῳ δὲ ἄλλα 
+μηχανᾶσθαι" καλέσασαν δέ pay Αἰγυπτίων τοὺς 
+μάλιστα μεταιτίους τοῦ φόνου ἴδε πολλοὺς 
+ἱστιᾶν, δαινυμένοισι δὲ ἐπεῖναι. τὸν ποταμὸν δι᾽ 
+αὐλῶνος κρυπτοῦ μεγάλου. ταύτης μὲν πέρι το- 
+σαῦτα ἔλεγον, πλὴν ὅτι αὐτήν μιν, ὡς τοῦτο 
+ἐξέργαστο, ῥ ῥίψαι ἐς οἴκημα σποδοῦ πλέον, ὅκως 
+ἀτιμώρητος γένηται. 
+
+101. Τῶν δὲ ἄλλων βασιλέων οὗ γὰρ ἔλεγον 
+οὐδεμίαν ἔ Ύων ἀπόδεξιν καὶ οὐδὲν εἶναι λαμπρό- 
+τητος, πλὴν ἑνὸς τοῦ ἐσχάτου αὐτῶν Μοίριος" 
+τοῦτον. δὲ ἀποδέξασθαι μνημόσυνα τοῦ Ἡφαίστου 
+τὰ πρὸς βορέην ἄνεμον τετραμμένα προπύλαια, 
+λίμνην τε ὀρύξαι, τῆς ἡ περίοδος ὅσων ἐστὶ 
+σταδίων ὕστερον δηλώσω, πυραμίδας τε ἐν αὐτῇ 
+οἰκοδομῆσαι, τῶν τοῦ μεγάθεος πέρι ὁμοῦ αὐτῇ τη 
+λύμνῃ ἐπιμνήσομαι: τοῦτον μὲν τοσαῦτα ἀπο- 
+δέξασθαι, τῶν δὲ ἄλλων οὐδένα οὐδέν. 
+
+102. Ἡαρᾶμειψάμενος ὦ ὧν τούτους τοῦ ἐπὶ τού- 
+τοισι γενομένου βασιλέος, τῷ οὔνομα ἦν Σέσω- 
+oT pts, τούτου μνήμην ποιήσομαι" τὸν ἔλεγον οἱ 
+ἐρέες πρῶτον μὲν πλοίοισι μακροῖσι ὁρμηθέντα 
+ἐκ τοῦ ᾿Αραβίου κόλπου τοὺς παρὰ τὴν Ἠρυθρὴν 
+θάλασσαν κατοικημένους καταστρέφεσθαι, ἐς ὃ 
+πλέοντά μιν πρόσω ἀπικέσθαι ἐς θάλασσαν οὐκέτι 
+πλωτὴν ὑπὸ βραχέων. ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ ὡς ὀπίσω 
+ἀπίκετο ἐς Αἴγυπτον, κατὰ τῶν ἱρέων τὴν φάτιν, 
+πολλὴν στρατιὴν τῶν . -1 λαβὼν ἤλαυνε διὰ τῆς 
+ἠπείρου, πᾶν ἔθνος τὸ ἐμποδὼν καταστρεφόμενος. 
+
+
+! A word is omitted, perhaps ἦρχεν; τῶν ἦρχεν Ξ.οἳ his 
+subjects. 
+
+
+388 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΙ. 100-102 
+
+
+many of the Egyptians to death by guile. She built 
+a Spacious underground chamber; then, with the 
+pretence of handselling it, but with far other intent 
+in her mind, she gave a great feast, inviting to it 
+those Egyptians whom she knew to have been most 
+concerned in her brother's murder; and while they 
+feasted she let the nver in upon them by a great 
+and secret channel This was all that the priests 
+told of her, save that also when she had done this 
+she cast herself into a. chamber full of hot ashes, 
+thereby to escape vengeance. 
+
+101. But of the other kings they related no 
+achievement or deed of great note, save of Moeris, 
+who was the last of them. This Moeris was remem- 
+bered as having built the northern forecourt of the 
+temple of Hephaestus, and dug a lake, of as many 
+furlongs in circuit as I shall later show; and built 
+there pyramids also, the size of which I will mention 
+
+
+= when I speak of the lake. All this was Moeris’ 
+
+
+work, they said ; of none of the rest had they any- 
+thing to record. 
+
+102. Passing over these, therefore, I will now 
+speak of the king who came after them, Sesostris.! 
+This king, said the priests, set out with a fleet of long 
+ships? from the Arabian Gulf and subdued all the 
+dwellers by the Red Sea, till as he sailed on he came 
+to a sea which was too shallow for his vessels. After 
+returning thence back to Egypt, he gathered a great 
+army (according to the story of the priests) and 
+marched over the mainland, subduing every nation to 
+
+
+! Rameses IL, called by the Greeks Sesostris; said to 
+have ruled in the fourteenth century B.C. 
+3 Ships of war. 
+
+
+389 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὁτέοισι μέν νυν αὐτῶν ἀλκίμοισι ἐνετύγχανε καὶ 
+δεινῶς γλεχομένοισι περὶ τῆς ἐλευθερίης, τούτοισι 
+μὲν στήλας ἐνίστη ἐς τὰς χώρας διὰ γραμμάτων 
+λεγούσας τό τε ἑωυτοῦ οὔνομα καὶ τῆς πάτρης, 
+καὶ ὡς δυνάμι τῇ ἑωυτοῦ κατεστρέψατο σφέας" 
+ὅτεων δὲ ἀμαχητὶ καὶ εὐπετέως παρέλαβε τὰς 
+πόλιας, τούτοισι δὲ ἐνέγραφε ἐν τῇσι στήλῃσι 
+κατὰ ταὐτὰ καὶ τοῖσι ἀνδρηίοισι τῶν ἐθνέων ye- 
+νομένοισι, καὶ δὴ καὶ αἰδοῖα γυναικὸς προσ- 
+ενέγραφε, δῆλα βουλόμενος ποιέειν ὡς εἴησαν 
+ἀνάλικιδες. 
+
+103. Tatra δὲ ποιέων διεξήιε τὴν ἤπειρον, ἐς 
+ὃ ἐκ τῆς ᾿Ασίης ἐς τὴν Εὐρώπην διαβὰς τούς τε 
+Σκύθας κατεστρέψατο καὶ τοὺς Θρήικας. ἐς τού- 
+τους δέ μοι δοκέει καὶ προσώτατα ἀπικέσθαι ὁ 
+Αἰγύπτιος στρατός" ἐν μὲν γὰρ τῇ τούτων χώρῃ 
+φαίνονται σταθεῖσαι αἱ στῆλαι, τὸ δὲ προσωτέρω 
+τούτων οὐκέτι. ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ ἐπιστρέψας ὀπίσω 
+ἤιε, καὶ ἐπείτε ἐγίνετο ἐπὶ báo. ποταμῷ, οὐκ 
+ἔχω τὸ ἐνθεῦτεν ἀτρεκέως εἰπεῖν εἴτε αὐτὸς ὁ 
+βασιλεὺς Σέσωστρις ἀποδασάμενος τῆς ἑωυτοῦ 
+στρατιῆς μόριον ὅσον δὴ αὐτοῦ κατέλιπε τῆς 
+χώρης οἰκήτορας, εἴτε τῶν τινες στρατιωτέων τῇ 
+πλάνῃ αὐτοῦ ἀχθεσθέντες περὶ Φᾶσιν ποταμὸν 
+κατέμειναν. 
+
+104. Φαίνονται μὲν γὰρ ἐόντες οἱ Κόλχοι Ai- 
+γύπτιοι, νοήσας δὲ πρότερον αὐτὸς ἢ ἀκούσας 
+ἄλλων λέγω. ὡς δέ µοι ἐν φροντίδι ἐγένετο, 
+. εἰρόμην ἀμφοτέρους, καὶ μᾶλλον οἱ Κόλχοι ἐμε- 
+µνέατο τῶν Αἰγυπτίων ἢ οἱ Αἰγύπτιοι τῶν 
+Κόλχων" νομίξειν δ᾽ ἔφασαν οἱ Αἰγύπτιοι τῆς 
+Σεσώστριος στρατιῆς εἶναι τοὺς Κόλχους. αὐτὸς 
+
+
+390 
+
+
+. BOOK ΙΙ. 102-104 
+
+
+which he came. When those that he met were 
+valiant men and strove hard for freedom, he set up 
+pillars in their land whereon the inscription showed 
+his own name and his country's, and how he had 
+overcome them with his own power; but when the 
+cities had made no resistance and been easily taken, 
+then he put an inscription on the pillars even as he 
+had done where the nations were brave ; but he drew 
+also on them the privy parts of a woman, wishing to 
+show clearly that the people were cowardly. 
+
+103. Thus doing he marched over the country till 
+he had passed over from Asia to Europe and sub- 
+dued the Scythians and Thracians. Thus far and 
+no farther, I think, the Egyptian army went ; for 
+the pillars can be seen standing in their country, but 
+in none beyond it. Thence he turned about and went 
+back homewards; and when he came to the Phasis 
+river,it may be (for I cannot speak with exact know- | 
+ledge) that King Sesostris divided off some part of his 
+army and left it there to dwell in the country, or it 
+may be that some of his soldiers grew weary of his 
+wanderings, and stayed by the Phasis. 
+
+104. For it is plain to see that the Colchians are 
+Egyptians ; and this that I say I myself noted before 
+I heard it from others. When I began to think on 
+this matter, I inquired of both peoples; and the 
+Colchians remembered the Egyptians better than 
+the Egyptians remembered the  Colchians; the 
+Egyptians said that they held the Colchians to be 
+part of Sesostris army. I myself guessed it to be 
+
+391 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Δ v no Nov Xa LA b 
+δὲ εἴκασα τῇδε, καὶ OTL μελάγχροες εἰσὶ καὶ 
+οὐλότριχες. καὶ τοῦτο μὲν ἐς οὐδὲν ἀνήκει" εἰσὶ 
+
+. Nw ^ , \ a . - 
+γὰρ καὶ ἕτεροι τοιοῦτοι’ ἀλλὰ τοῖσιδε καὶ μᾶλλον, 
+μά - » A / \ 2 
+ὅτι μοῦνοι πάντων ἀνθρώπων Κόλχοι καὶ At- 
+γύπτιοι καὶ Αἰθίοπες περιτάµνονται ἀπ᾽ ἀρχῆς 
+
+. 4 ^ , N \ 4 e. ^ 
+τὰ αἰδοῖα. Φοίνικες δὲ καὶ Σύροι οἱ ἐν τῇ Παλαι- 
+
+ε ΄ , 
+
+στίνῃ καὶ αὐτοὶ ὁμολογέουσι παρ Αἰγυπτίων 
+
+ld , δὲ ε . 8 00 N 
+μεμαθηκέναι, Σύριοι δὲ οἱ περὶ Θερμώδοντα καὶ 
+Παρθένιον ποταμὸν καὶ Μάκρωνες οἱ τούτοισι 
+
+f / 
+ἀστυγείτονες ἐόντες ἀπὸ Κόλχων φασὶ νεωστὶ 
+μεμαθηκέναι. οὗτοι γὰρ εἰσὶ οἱ περιταμνόμενοι 
+ἀνθρώπων μοῦνοι, καὶ οὗτοι Αἰγυπτίοισι φαί- 
+νονται ποιεῦντες κατὰ ταὐτά. αὐτῶν δὲ Αἰγυ- 
+πτίων καὶ Αἰθιόπων οὐκ ἔχω εἰπεῖν ὀκότεροι παρὰ 
+^ , ^ 
+τῶν ἑτέρων ἐξέμαθον: ἀρχαῖον γὰρ δή τι φαίνεται 
+, 
+
+ἐόν. ὡς δὲ ἐπιμισγόμενοι Αἰγύπτῳ ἐξέμαθον, 
+μέγα μοι καὶ τόδε τεκμήριον γίνεται: Φοινίκων 
+
+΄ 8 ^ € lA 2 / , , , 
+ὁκόσοι τῇ “Ἑλλάδι ἐπιμίσγονται, οὐκέτι Αἰγυ- 
+πτίους μιμέονται κατὰ τὰ αἰδοῖα. ἀλλὰ τῶν ἐπι- 
+γινομένων οὐ περιτάµνουσι τὰ αἰδοῖα. 
+
+105. Φέρε νῦν καὶ ἄλλο εἴπω περὶ τῶν Κόλχων, 
+ὡς Αἰγυπτίοισι προσφερέες εἰσί' λίνον μοῦνοι 
+
+Φ / 4 
+οὗτοί τε καὶ Αἰγύπτιοι ἐργάζονται καὶ κατὰ 
+
+, £ e ? ^ N^ xe ^ , 
+ταὐτά, καὶ ἡ bon πᾶσα καὶ ἡ γλῶσσα ἐμφερής 
+ἐστι ἀλλήλοισι. λίνον δὲ τὸ μὲν Κολχικὸν ὑπὸ 
+ε 
+
+Ἑλλήνων Σαρδωνικὸν κέκληται, τὸ μέντοι ἀπ᾽ 
+Αἰγύπτου ἀπικνεύμενον καλέεται Αἰγύπτιον. 
+
+106. At δὲ στῆλαι τὰς ἵστα κατὰ τὰς χώρας 
+ὁ Αἰγύπτου βασιλεὺς Σέσωστρις, αἱ μὲν πλεῦνες 
+
+
+392 
+
+
+A u—— = πο πε --- ο Ub - 
+
+
+= T 
+
+
+g. - οτι az aii πω TR adc)» Se παν. UU ων, ce 
+
+
+BOOK II. 104-106 
+
+
+so, partly because they are dark-skinned and woolly- 
+haired; though that indeed goes for nothing, seeing 
+that other peoples, too, are such; but my better 
+proof was that the Colchians and Egyptians and 
+Ethiopians are the only nations that have from the 
+first practised circumcision. The Phoenicians and 
+the Syrians of Palestine acknowledge of themselves 
+that they learnt the custom from the Egyptians, and 
+the Syrians of the valleys of the Thermodon and 
+the Parthenius, as well as their neighbours the Ma- 
+crones, say that they learnt it lately from the 
+Colchians, These are the only nations that circum- 
+cise, and it is seen that they do even as the 
+Egyptians. But as to the Egyptians and Ethiopians 
+themselves, I cannot say which nation learnt it from 
+the other; for it is manifestly a very ancient custom. 
+That the others learnt it from intercourse with 
+Egypt I hold to be clearly proved by this—that 
+Phoenicians who hold intercourse with Hellas cease 
+to imitate the Egyptians in this matter and do not 
+circumcise their children. 
+
+105. Nay, and let me speak of another matter in 
+which the Colchians are like to the Egyptians: they 
+and the Egyptians alone work linen, and have the 
+same way, a way peculiar to themselves, of working 
+it; and they are alike in all their manner of life, 
+and in their speech. Linen has two names: the 
+Colchian kind is called by the Greeks Sardonian ; 1 
+that which comes from Egypt is called Egyptian. 
+
+106. As to the pillars which Sesostris, king of 
+Egypt, set up in the countries, most of them are no 
+
+
+1 There seems to be no reason for connecting Colchian 
+linen with Sardinia (as Σαρδωνικόν would imply). The 
+Colchian word may have had a similar sound. 
+
+
+393 
+
+
+~ 
+
+
+£l . 
+
+
+. 1. 
+T t 
+m : 
+= 1. 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οὐκέτι φαίνονται περιεοῦσαι, ἐν δὲ τῇ Παλαιστίνῃ 
+Συρίῃ αὐτὸς ὥρων ἐούσας καὶ τὰ γράμματα τὰ 
+εἰρημένα ἐνεόντα καὶ γυναικὸς αἰδοῖα. εἰσὶ δὲ κα 
+περὶ Ἰωνίην δύο τύποι ἐν πέτρησι ἐγκεκολαμμένοι 
+τούτου τοῦ ἀνδρός, τῇ τε ἐκ τῆς ᾿Εφεσίης ἐς 
+Φώκαιαν ἔρχονται καὶ τῇ ἐκ Σαρδίων ἐς Σμύρνην. 
+ἑκατέρωθι δὲ ἀνὴρ ἐγγέγλυπται μέγαθος πέμπτης 
+σπιθαμῆς, τῇ μὲν δεξιῆ χειρὶ ἔχων αἰχμὴν τῇ δὲ 
+ἀριστερῇ τόξα, καὶ τὴν ἄλλην σκευὴν ὡσαύτως" 
+καὶ γὰρ Αἰγυπτίην καὶ Αἰθιοπίδα ἔχει ἐκ δὲ τοῦ 
+ὤμου ἐς τὸν ἕτερον ὦμον διὰ τῶν στηθέων γράμ- 
+ματα ἱρὰ Αἰγύπτια διήκει ἐγκεκολαμμένα, λέγοντα 
+τάδε: “᾿Εγὼ τήνδε τὴν χώρην ὤμοισι τοῖσι ἐμοῖσε 
+ἐκτησάμην.᾽ ὅστις δὲ καὶ ὁκόθεν ἐστί, ἐνθαῦτα μὲν 
+οὐ δηλοῖ, ἑτέρωθι δὲ δεδήλωκε' τὰ δὴ καὶ μετεξέ- 
+τεροι τῶν θεησαμένων Μέμνονος εἰκόνα εἰκάζουσί 
+μιν εἶναι, πολλὸν τῆς ἀληθείης ἀπολελειμμένοι. 
+107. Τοῦτον δὴ τὸν Αἰγύπτιον Σέσωστριν ava- 
+χωρέοντα καὶ ἀνάγοντα πολλοὺς ἀνθρώπους τῶν 
+ἐθνέων τῶν τὰς χώρας κατεστρέψατο, ἔλεγον οἱ 
+ἱρέες, ἐπείτε ἐγίνετο ἀνακομιζόμενος ἐν Δάφνησι 
+τῇσι Πηλουσίῃσι, τὸν ἀδελφεὸν ἑωυτοῦ, τῷ ἐπέ- 
+τρεψε ὁ Σέσωστρις τὴν Αἴγυπτον, τοῦτον ἐπὶ 
+ξείνια αὐτὸν καλέσαντα καὶ πρὸς αὐτῷ τοὺς 
+παῖδας περινῆσαι ἔξωθεν τὴν οἰκίην ὕλῃ, περινή- 
+σαντα δὲ ὑποπρῆσαι. τὸν δὲ ὡς μαθεῖν τοῦτο, 
+αὐτίκα συμβουλεύεσθαι τῇ γυναικί: καὶ γὰρ δὴ 
+καὶ τὴν γυναῖκα αὐτὸν ἅμα ἄγεσθαι: τὴν δέ οἱ 
+συμβουλεῦσαι τῶν παίδων ἐόντων ἓξ τοὺς δύο 
+ἐπὶ τὴν πυρὴν ἐκτείναντα γεφυρῶσαι τὸ καιό- 
+μενον, αὐτοὺς δὲ ἐπ᾽ ἐκείνων ἐπιβαίνοντας ἐκσώ- 
+ζεσθαι. ταῦτα ποιῆσαι τὸν Σέσωστριν, καὶ δύο 
+
+
+394 
+
+
+πως ο ον - 
+
+
+— u—— —R— ο =- ὃς, —— 
+
+
+ -——— σσ πο "ανω ο. — ee == 
+
+
+- 
+
+
+BOOK II. 106-107 
+
+
+longer to be seen. But I myself saw them in the 
+Palestine part of Syria, with the writing aforesaid and 
+the women’s privy parts upon them. Also there are 
+in Ionia two figures 1 of this man carven in rock, one 
+on the road from Ephesus to Phocaea, and the other 
+on that from Sardis to Smyrna. In both places there 
+is a man of a height of four cubits and a half cut in 
+relief, with a spear in his right hand and a bow in 
+his left, and the rest of his equipment answering 
+thereto ; for it is both Egyptian and Ethiopian ; and 
+right across the breast from one shoulder to the 
+other there is carven a writing in the Egyptian 
+sacred character, saying: “I myself won this land 
+with the might of my shoulders.” There is nothing 
+here to show who he is and whence he comes, but 
+it is shown elsewhere. Some of those who have seen 
+these figures guess them to be Memnon, but they 
+are far indeed from the truth. 
+
+107. Now when this Egyptian Sesostris (so said 
+the priests), being on his way homewards and bring- 
+ing many men of the nations whose countries he 
+had subdued, had come in his return to Daphnae of 
+Pelusium, his brother, to whom he had given Egypt 
+in charge, invited him and his sons to a banquet and 
+then piled wood round the house and set it on fire. 
+When Sesostris was aware of this, he took counsel 
+at once with his wife, whom (it was said) he was 
+bringing with him; and she counselled him to lay 
+two of his six sons on the fire and to make a bridge 
+over the burning whereby they might pass over the 
+bodies of the two and escape. This Sesostris did ; 
+
+
+1 Two such figures have been discovered in the pass of 
+Karabel, near the old road from Ephesus to Smyrna. They 
+are not, however, Egyptian in appearance. 
+
+
+VOL. I. P 395 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μὲν τῶν παίδων κατακαῆναι τρύπῳ τοιούτῳ, τοὺς 
+δὲ λοιποὺς ἀποσωθῆναι ἅμα τῷ πατρί. 
+
+108. Νοστήσας δὲ ὁ Σέσωστρις ἐ ἐς τὴν Αἴγυπτον 
+καὶ τισάμενος τὸν ἀδελφεύν, τῷ μὲν ὁμίλῳ τὸν 
+ἐπηγάγετο τῶν τὰς χώρας κατεστρέψατο, τούτῳ 
+μὲν τάδε ἐχρήσατο" τούς τέ οἱ λίθους τοὺς ἐπὶ 
+τούτου τοῦ βασιλέος κομισθέντας ἐς τοῦ Ἡφαί- 
+στου τὸ ἱρόν, ἐόντας μεγάθεϊ περιμήκεας, οὗτοι 
+ἦσαν οἱ ἑλκύσαντες, καὶ τὰς «διώρυχας τὰς νῦν 
+ἐούσας ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ πάσας οὗτοι ἀναγκαξόμενοι 
+ὤρυσσον, ἐποίευν TE OUK ἑκόντες Αἴγυπτον, τὸ 
+πρὶν ἐοῦσαν ἱππασίμην καὶ ἁμαξευομένην πᾶσαν, 
+ἐνδεᾶ τούτων. ἀπὸ yap τούτου τοῦ χρόνου Αἴ- 
+γυπτος ἐοῦσα πεδιὰς πᾶσα ἄνιππος καὶ ἀναμά- 
+ξευτος γέγονε" αἴτιαι δὲ τούτων αἱ διώρυχες 
+γεγόνασι ἐοῦσαι πολλαὶ καὶ παντοίους τρόπους 
+ἔχουσαι. κατέταμνε δὲ τοῦδε εἵνεκα τὴν χώρην 
+ὁ βασιλεύς" ὅσοι τῶν Αἰγυπτίων μὴ ἐπὶ τῷ πο- 
+ταμῷ ἔκτηντο τὰς πόλις ἀλλ᾽ ἀναμέσους, οὗτοι, 
+ὅκως τε ἀπίοι ὃ ποταμός, σπανίξοντες ὑδάτων 
+πλατυτέροισι ἐχρέωντο τοῖσι πόμασι, ἐκ φρεάτων 
+χρεώμενοι. 
+
+109. Τούτων μὲν δὴ εἵνεκα κατετμήθη ἡ Αἴ. 
+γυπτος. κατανεῖμαι δὲ τὴν χώρην Αἰγυπτίοισι 
+ἅπασι τοῦτον ἔλεγον τὸν βασιλέα, κλῆρον ἴσον 
+ἑκάστῳ τετράγωνον διδόντα, καὶ ἀπὸ τούτου τὰς 
+προσόδους ποιήσασθαι, ἐπιτάξαντα ἀποφορὴν 
+ἐπιτελέειν κατ᾽ ἐνιαυτόν. εἰ δὲ τινὸς τοῦ κλήρου 
+ὁ ποταμός τι παρέλοιτο, ἐλθὼν ἂν πρὸς αὐτὸν 
+ἐσήμαινε τὸ γεγενημένον" ὃ δὲ ἔ ἔπεμπε τοὺς ἐπι- 
+σκεψομένους καὶ ἀναμετρήσοντας ὅσῳ ἐλάσσων 
+ὁ χῶρος γέγονε, ὅκως τοῦ λοιποῦ κατὰ λόγον 
+
+
+396 
+
+
+BOOK II. 107-109 
+
+
+two of his sons were thus burnt, but the rest were 
+saved alive with their father. 
+
+108. Having returned to Egypt, and taken venge- 
+ance on his brother, Sesostris found work, as I shall 
+show, for the multitude which he brought with him 
+from the countries which he had subdued. It was 
+these who dragged the great and long blocks of 
+stone which were brought in this king's reign to the 
+temple of Hephaestus; and it was they who were 
+compelled to dig all the canals which are now in 
+Egypt, and thus, albeit with no such intent, made 
+what was before a land of horses and carts to be 
+now without either. For from this time Egypt, 
+albeit a level land, could use no horses or carts, by 
+reason of the canals being so many and going every 
+way. The reason why the king thus intersected the 
+country was this: those Egyptians whose towns were 
+not on the Nile but inland from it lacked water 
+whenever the flood left their land, and drank only 
+brackish water from wells. 
+
+109. For this cause Egypt was intersected. This 
+king moreover (so they said) divided the country 
+among all the Egyptians by giving each an equal 
+square parcel of land, and made this his source of 
+revenue, appointing the payment of a yearly tax. 
+And any man who was robbed by the river of a part 
+of his land would come to Sesostris and declare 
+what had befallen him ; then the king would send 
+men to look into it and measure the space by which 
+the land was diminished, so that thereafter it should 
+
+397 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τῆς τεταγμένης ἀποφορῆς τελέοι. δοκέει δέ μοι 
+ἐνθεῦτεν γεωμετρίη εὑρεθεῖσα ἐς τὴν Ἑλλάδα 
+ἐπανελθεῖν' πόλον μὲν γὰρ καὶ γνώμονα καὶ τὰ 
+δυώδεκα μέρεα τῆς ἡμέρης παρὰ Βαβυλωνίων 
+ἔμαθον οἱ " “Ἕλληνες, 
+
+110. Βασιλεὺς μὲν δὴ οὗτος μοῦνος Αἰγύπτιος 
+Αἰθιοπίης ἦρξε, μνημόσυνα δὲ ἐλίπετο πρὸ τοῦ 
+Ἡφαιστείου ἀνδριάντας λιθίνους, δύο μὲν τριή- 
+κοντα πηχέων, ἑωυτόν τε καὶ τὴν γυναῖκα, τοὺς 
+δὲ παῖδας ἐ ἐόντας τέσσερας εἴκοσι πηχέων ἕκαστον' 
+τῶν δὴ ὁ ἱρεὺς τοῦ Ἡφαίστου χρόνῳ μετέπειτα 
+πολλῷ Δαρεῖον τὸν. Πέρσην ου περιεῖδε ἱστάντα 
+ἔμπροσθε ἀνδριάντα, pas ov οἱ πεποιῆσθαι ἔργα 
+οἷά περ Σεσώστρι TH Ἀὐγυπτίῳ' Σέσωστριν μὲν 
+γὰρ ἄλλα τε καταστρέψασθαι ἔθνεα οὐκ ἐλάσσω 
+ἐκείνου καὶ δὴ καὶ Σκύθας, Δαρεῖον δὲ ov δυνα- 
+σθῆναι Σκύθας ἑλεῖν" οὔκων δίκαιον εἶναι ἱστάναι 
+ἔμπροσθε τῶν ἐκείνου ἀναθημάτων μὴ οὐκ -ὑπερ- 
+βαλλόμενον. τοῖσι ἔργοισι. Δαρεῖον μέν νυν 
+λέγουσι πρὸς ταῦτα συγγνώμην ποιήσασθαι. 
+
+111. Σεσώστριος δὲ τελευτήσαντος ἐκδέξασθαι 
+ἔλεγον τὴν βασιληίην τὸν παῖδα αὐτοῦ Φερών, 
+τὸν ἀποδέξασθαι μὲν οὐδεμίαν στρατηύην, συνενεἰ- 
+χθῆναι δέ οἱ τυφλὸν γενέσθαι διὰ τοιόνδε πρῆγμα. 
+τοῦ ποταμοῦ κατελθόντος μέγιστα δὴ τότε ἐπ 
+ὀκτωκαίδεκα πήχεας, ὡς ὑπερέβαλε τὰς ἀρούρας, 
+πνεύματος ἐμπεσόντος κυματίης ὁ ποταμὸς ἐγέ- 
+νετο' τὸν δὲ βασιλέα λέγουσι τοῦτον ἀτασθαλίῃ 
+χρησάμενον, λαβόντα αἰχμὴν βαλεῖν ἐς μέσα» 
+τὰς Sivas τοῦ ποταμοῦ, μετὰ δὲ αὐτίκα καμόντα 
+αὐτὸν τοὺς ὀφθαλμοὺς τυφλωθῆναι. δέκα μὲν δὴ 
+
+
+398 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΙ. 109-111 
+
+
+pay in proportion to the tax originally imposed. 
+From this, to my thinking, the Greeks learnt the art 
+of measuring land; the sunclock and the sundial, 
+and the twelve divisions of the day, came to Hellas 
+not from Egypt but from Babylonia. 
+
+110. Sesostris was the only Egyptian king who 
+also ruled Ethiopia. To commemorate his name, 
+he set before the temple of Hephaestus two stone 
+statues of himself and his wife, each thirty cubits 
+high, and statues of his four sons, each of twenty 
+cubits. Long afterwards Darius the Persian would 
+have set up his statue before these; but the priest 
+of Hephaestus forbade him, saying that he had 
+achieved nothing equal to the deeds of Sesostris the 
+Egyptian ; for Sesostris (he said) had subdued the 
+Scythians, besides as many other nations as Darius 
+had conquered, and Darius had not been able to over- 
+come the Scythians ; therefore it was not just that 
+Darius should set his statue before the statues of 
+Sesostris, whose achievements he had not equalled. 
+Darius, it is said, let the priest have his way. 
+
+111. When Sesostris died, he was succeeded in 
+the kingship (so said the priests) by his son Pheros.1 
+This king made no wars; and it happened that he 
+became blind, for the following reason: the Nile 
+came down in a flood such as never was before, 
+rising to a height of eighteen cubits, and the water 
+which overflowed the fields was roughened by a 
+strong wind; then, it is said, the king was so in- 
+fatuated that he took a spear and hurled it into the 
+midst of the river eddies. Straightway after this 
+he suffered from a disease of the eyes, and became 
+Llind. When he had been blind for ten years, an 
+
+
+! Manetho's list shows no such name. It is probably not 
+& name but a title, Pharaoh. 399 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἔτεα εἶναί μιν τυφλν, ἑνδεκάτῳ δὲ ἔτεϊ ἀπικέσθαι 
+οἱ μαντήιον ἐκ Βουτοῦς πόλιος ὡς ἐξήκει τέ οἱ 
+€ ^ 
+
+ὁ χρόνος τῆς ζημίης καὶ ἀναβλέψει γυναικὸς οὔρῳ 
+νιψάµενος τοὺς ὀφθαλμούς, ἥτις παρὰ τὸν ἑωυτῆς 
+ἄνδρα μοῦνον πεφοίτηκε, ἄλλων ἀνδρῶν ἐοῦσα 
+ἄπειρος. καὶ τὸν πρώτης τῆς ἑωυτοῦ γυναικὸς 
+πειρᾶσθαι, μετὰ δέ, ὡς οὐκ ἀνέβλεπε, ἐπεξῆς 
+πασέων πειρᾶσθαι: ἀναβλέψαντα δὲ συναγαγεῖν 
+τὰς γυναῖκας τῶν ἐπειρήθη, πλὴν ἢ τῆς τῷ οὔρῳ 
+
+, * 7 3 , / ^ ^ 
+
+νιψάμενος ἀνέβλεψε, ἐς μίαν πολιν, ἣ νῦν κα- 
+
+, 3 X A > / , 
+λέεται ᾿Ερυθρὴ βῶλος": ἐς ταύτην συναλίσαντα 
+ὑποπρῆσαι πάσας σὺν αὐτῇ τῇ πόλι: τῆς Ce 
+
+/ ^ » 3 fF / Ν » 
+νιψ-άμενος τῷ οὔρῳ ἀνέβλεψε, ταύτην δὲ ἔσχε 
+αὐτὸς γυναῖκα. ἀναθήματα δὲ ἀποφυγὼν τὴν 
+
+2 ^ 3 ^ » > AN νι Έντα / 
+πάθην τῶν ὀφθαλμῶν ἄλλα τε ἀνὰ τὰ ἱρὰ πάντα 
+τὰ λόγιμα ἀνέθηκε καὶ τοῦ γε λόγον μάλιστα 
+y \ xy 3 a € / N.N , , 
+ἄξιον ἐστὶ ἔχειν, ἐς τοῦ Ηλίου τὸ ἱρὸν ἀξιοθέητα 
+ἀνέθηκε ἔργα, ὀβελοὺς δύο λιθίνους, ἐξ ἑνὸς ἐόντα 
+ἑκάτερον λίθου, μῆκος μὲν ἑκάτερον πηχέων 
+ἑκατόν, εὖρος δὲ ὀκτὼ πηχέων. 
+
+119. Τούτου δὲ ἐκδέξασθαι τὴν βασιληίην ἔλε- 
+yov ἄνδρα Μεμφίτην, τῷ κατὰ τὴν Ιλλήνων 
+γλῶσσαν οὔνομα Πρωτέα civar τοῦ νῦν τέμενος 
+ἐστὶ ἐν Μέμφι κάρτα καλὸν τε καὶ εὖ ἐσκευασ- 
+
+^ € 
+μένον, τοῦ ᾿Ἡφαιστείου πρὸς νότον ἄνεμον xrel- 
+μενον. περιοικέουσι δὲ τὸ τέμενος τοῦτο Φοίνικες 
+Τύριοι, καλέεται δὲ ὁ χῶρος οὗτος ὁ συνάπας 
+, ^ .. A 
+Τυρίων στρατόπεδον. ἔστι δὲ ἐν τῷ τεμένεϊ τοῦ 
+
+" e 4 
+
+Πρωτέος ἱρὸν τὸ καλέεται ξείνης ᾿Αφροδίτης: 
+A € A 
+συμβάλλομαι δὲ τοῦτο τὸ ἱρὸν εἶναι Ἰλλένης τῆς 
+Τυνδάρεω, καὶ τὸν λόγον ἀκηκοὼς ὡς διαιτήθη 
+Ἑλέ à Πρωτέι, καὶ δὴ καὶ ὅ γης Α 
+
+ένη παρὰ Ἱ]ρωτέι, καὶ δὴ καὶ ὅτι ξείνης Agpo- 
+
+4οο 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΙ. 111-1123 
+
+
+oracle from the city of Buto declared to him that 
+the time of his punishment was drawing to an end, 
+and that he should regain his sight by washing his 
+eyes with the issue of a woman who had never had 
+intercourse with any man but her own husband. 
+Pheros made trial with his own wife first, and as 
+he still remained blind, with all women, one after 
+another. When he at last recovered sight, he took 
+all the women of whom he bad made trial, save only 
+her who had made him to see again, and gathered 
+them into one town, that which is now called * Red 
+Clay "; where having collected them together he 
+burnt them and the town ; but the woman by whose 
+means he had recovered sight he took to wife. 
+Among the many offerings which he dedicated in al} 
+the noteworthy temples for his deliverance from 
+blindness, most worthy of mention are the two mar- 
+vellous stone obelisks which he set up in the temple 
+of the Sun. Each of these is made of a single 
+block, and is an hundred cubits high and eight cubits 
+thick. 
+
+112. Pheros was succeeded (they said) by a man 
+of Memphis, whose name in the Greek language 
+was Proteus. This Proteus has a fair and well- 
+adorned temple precinct at Memphis, lying to the 
+south of the temple of Hephaestus. Round the pre- 
+cinct dwell Phoenicians of Tyre, and the whole place 
+is called the Camp of the Tyrians. There is in the 
+precinct of Proteus a temple entitled the temple of 
+
+
+the Stranger Aphrodite; this I guess to be a temple , 
+of Helen, daughter of Tyndareus, partly because 
+
+
+I have heard the story of Helen's abiding with 
+Proteus, and partly because it bears the name of 
+
+
+401 
+
+
+K 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δίτης ἐπώνυμον ἐστί: ὅσα γὰρ ἄλλα ᾿Αφροδίτης 
+ἱρά ἐστι, οὐδαμῶς ξείνης ἐπικαλέεται. 
+
+119. Ἔλεγον δέ μοι οἱ ἱρέες t ἱστορέοντι τὰ περὶ 
+Ἑλένην γενέσθαι ὧδε. ᾿Αλέξανδρον ἁρπάσαντα 
+Ἑλένην ἐκ Σπάρτης ἀποπλέειν ἐς τὴν ἑωυτοῦ" 
+καί μιν, ὡς ἐγένετο ἐν τῷ Λἰγαίῳ, ἐξῶσται ἄνεμοι 
+ἐκβάλλουσι ἐς τὸ Αἰγύπτιον πέλαγος, ἐνθεῦτεν 
+δέ, οὐ γὰρ ἀνιεῖ τὰ πνεύματα, ἀπικνέεται ἐς Αἴ- 
+γυπτον καὶ Αἰγύπτου ἐς τὸ νῦν Κανωβικὸν 
+καλεύμενον στόμα τοῦ Νείλου καὶ ἐς Ταριχείας. 
+
+
+Ly δὲ > N ^ > 7 M \ ^ 9 *H , 
+Ἵν 6€ ἐπὶ τῆς ἠιόνος TO καὶ νῦν ἐστι Ἡρακλέος 
+
+
+ἱρόν, ἐς τὸ ἦν καταφυγὼν οἰκέτης ὅτευ ὧν ἀνθρώ- 
+πων ἐπιβάληται στίγματα ἱρά, ἑωυτὸν διδοὺς τῷ 
+θεᾷ, οὐκ ἔξεστι τούτου ἄψασθαι. ὁ νόμος οὗτος 
+διατελέει ἐὼν ὅμοιος μέχρι ἐμεῦ τῷ ἀπ᾽ ἀρχῆς. 
+τοῦ ὦν δὴ ᾿Αλεξάνδρου ἀπιστέαται θεράποντες 
+πυθόμενοι τὸν ' περὶ τὸ ἱρὸν ἔχοντα νόμον, ἱκέται 
+δὲ ἱζόμενοι τοῦ θεοῦ κατηγόρεον τοῦ ᾿Αλεξάνδρου, 
+βουλόμενοι βλάπτειν αὐτόν, πάντα λόγον ἐξηγεύ- 
+μενοι ὡς εἶχε περὶ τὴν Ἑλένην τε καὶ τὴν ἐς 
+Μενέλεων ἀδικίην" κατηγόρεον δὲ ταῦτα πρός τε 
+τοὺς ἱρέας καὶ τὸν τοῦ στόματος τούτου φύλακον, 
+τῷ οὔνομα ἦν Θῶνις. 
+
+114. ᾿Ακούσας δὲ τούτων ὁ Θῶνις πέμπει τὴν 
+ταχίστην ἐς Μέμφιν παρὰ Πρωτέα ἀγγελίην 
+λέγουσαν τάδε. " "Hei ξεῖνος γένος μὲν Τευκρός, 
+ἔργον δὲ ἀνόσιον ἐν τῇ Ελλάδι ἐξεργασμένος: 
+ξείνου γὰρ τοῦ ἑωυτοῦ ἐξαπατήσας τὴν γυναῖκα 
+αὐτήν τε ταύτην ἄγων ἥκει καὶ πολλὰ κάρτα 
+χρήματα, ὑπὸ ἀνέμων ἐς γῆν ταύτην ἀπενειχθείς. 
+
+
+^ 
+
+
+κότερα δῆτα τοῦτον ἐῶμεν ἀσινέα ἐκπλέειν ἢ 
+
+
+402 
+
+
+ΒΟΟΚ II. 112-I14 
+
+
+the Stranger Aphrodite ; for no other of ας 
+temples is called by that name. 
+
+113. When I enquired of the priests, they told 
+me that this was the story of Helen:—After carry- 
+ing off Helen from Sparta, Alexandrus sailed away 
+for his own country; violent winds caught him in 
+the Aegean, and drove him into the Egyptian sea; 
+whence (the wind not abating) he came to Egypt, 
+to the mouth of the Nile called the Canopic mouth, 
+and to the Salting-places. Now there was on the coast 
+(and still is) a temple of Heracles; where if a servant 
+of any man take refuge and be branded with certain 
+sacred marks in token that he delivers himself to 
+the god, such an one may not be toucbed. This law 
+continues to-day the same as it has ever been from 
+the first. Hearing of the temple law, certain of 
+Alexandrus' servants separated themselves from him, 
+threw themselves on the mercy of the god, and 
+brought an accusation against Alexandrus with 
+intent to harm him, telling all the story of Helen 
+and the wrong done to Menelaus. They laid this 
+accusation before the priests and the warden of the 
+Nile mouth, whose name was Thonis. 
+
+114. When Thonis heard it, he sent this message 
+with all speed to Proteus at Memphis: * There has 
+come hither a Teucrian stranger who has done great 
+wrong in Hellas. He has deceived his host and 
+robbed him of his wife, and brought her hither 
+driven to your country by tbe wind, with very great 
+store of wealth besides. Shall we suffer him to sail 
+away unharmed, or take away from him that which 
+
+
+493 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἀπελώμεθα τὰ ἔχων ἦλθε; ἀντιπέμπει πρὸς 
+ταῦτα ὁ Πρωτεὺς λέγοντα τάδε. “"Ανδρα τοῦτον, 
+ὅστις κοτὲ ἐστὶ ἀνόσια ἐργασμένος ξεῖνον τὸν 
+ἑωυτοῦ, συλλαβόντες ἀπάγετε παρ᾽ ἐμέ, ἵνα εἰδέω 
+ὅ τε κοτὲ καὶ λέξει." 
+
+115. ᾿Ακούσας δὲ ταῦτα ὁ Θῶνις συλλαμβάνει 
+τὸν ᾿Αλέξανδρον καὶ τὰς νέας αὐτοῦ κατίσχει, μετὰ 
+δὲ αὐτόν τε τοῦτον ἀνήγαγε ἐς Μέμφιν καὶ τὴν 
+Ῥλένην τε καὶ τὰ χρήματα, πρὸς δὲ καὶ τοὺς ἱκέτας. 
+ἀνακομισθέντων δὲ πάντων, εἰρώτα τὸν ᾿Αλέξαν- 
+ὅρον ὁ ὁ Πρωτεὺς τίς εἴη καὶ ὁκόθεν THEOL, ὃ δέ οἱ 
+καὶ τὸ γένος κατέλεξε καὶ τῆς πάτρης εἶπε τὸ 
+οὔνομα, καὶ δὴ καὶ τὸν πλόον ἀπηγήσατο ὁκόθεν 
+πλέοι. μετὰ δὲ ὁ Πρωτεὺς εἰρώτα αὐτὸν ὁκόθεν 
+τὴν Ἑλένην λάβοι" πλανωμένου δὲ τοῦ ᾿Αλε- 
+ξάνδρου ἐ ἐν τῷ λόγῳ καὶ οὗ λέγοντος τὴν ἀληθείην, 
+ἤλεγχον οἱ γενόμενοι ἱκέται, ἐξηγεύμενοι πάντα 
+λόγον τοῦ ἀδικήματος. τέλος δὲ δη σφι λόγον 
+τόνδε ἐκφαίνει ὁ Πρωτεύς, λέγων ὅτι “᾿Εγὼ εἰ μὴ 
+περὶ πολλοῦ ἡγεύμην μηδένα ξείνων κτείνειν, ὅσοι 
+ὑπ᾽ ἀνέμων ἤδη ἀπολαμφθέντες ἦλθον ἐς χώρην 
+τὴν ἐμήν, ἐγὼ ἄν σε ὑπὲρ τοῦ Ἕλληνος ἐ ἐτισάμην, 
+ὅς, à κάκιστε «ἀνδρῶν, ξεινίων τυχὼν. ἔργον. ἀνο- 
+σιώτατον ἐργάσαο' παρὰ τοῦ σεωυτοῦ ξείνου τὴν 
+γυναῖκα ἦλθες. καὶ μάλα ταῦτά ToL οὐκ ἤρκεσε, 
+ἀλλ) ἀναπτερώσας αὐτὴν οἴχεαι ἔχων ἐκκλέψας. 
+καὶ οὐδὲ ταῦτά τοι μοῦνα ἤρκεσε, ἀλλὰ καὶ οἰκία 
+τοῦ ξείνου κεραΐσας ἥκεις, νῦν ὧν ἐπειδὴ περὶ 
+πολλοῦ ἥγημαι μὴ ξεινοκτονέειν, γυναῖκα . μὲν 
+ταύτην καὶ τὰ ρήματα. οὔ τοι προήσω ἀπά- 
+γεσθαι, ἀλλ αὖτ ἐγὼ τῷ Ελληνι ξείνῳ φυλάξω, 
+ἐς ὃ ἂν αὐτὸς ἐλθὼν ἐκεῖνος ἀπαγαγέσθαι 
+
+
+494 
+
+
+BOOK II. 114-115 
+
+
+he has brought?" Proteus sent back this message : 
+* Whoever be this man who has done a wrong to 
+his own host, seize him and bring him to me, that I 
+may know what he will say." 
+
+115. Hearing this, Thonis seized Alexandrus and 
+held his ships there, and presently brought him with 
+Helen and all the wealth, and the suppliants there- 
+with, to Memphis. All having come thither, Proteus 
+asked Alexandrus who he was and whence he sailed ; 
+Alexandrus told him of his lineage and the name 
+of his country, and of his voyage, whence he sailed. 
+Then Proteus asked him whence he had taken 
+Helen; Alexandrus made no straightforward or 
+truthful answer; but the men who had taken refuge 
+with the temple disproved his tale, and related the 
+whole story of the wrongful act. When all was 
+said, Proteus thus gave sentence :—“ Were I not 
+careful to slay no stranger who has ever been caught 
+by the wind and driven to my coasts, I would have 
+avenged that Greek upon you; seeing that, O 
+basest of men! you have done foul wrong to him 
+who hospitably entreated you, and have entered in 
+to the wife of your own host. Nay, and this did not 
+suffice you; you made her to fly with you and stole 
+her away. Nor was even this enough, but you have 
+come hither with the plunder of your host's house. 
+Now, therefore, since I am careful to slay no stranger, 
+I will not suffer you to take away this woman and 
+these possessions; I will keep them for the Greek 
+stranger, till such time as he shall himself come to 
+
+405 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐθέλῃ: αὐτὸν δέ σε καὶ τοὺς σοὺς συμπλόους 
+τριῶν ἡμερέων προαγορεύω ἐκ τῆς ἐμῆς γῆς ἐς 
+» ` [4 3 N , [74 ld 
+ἄλλην τινὰ μετορμίξεσθαι, εἰ δὲ pij, ἅτε πολεμίους 
+περιέψ-εσθαι.᾽ 
+
+116. Ἑλένης μὲν ταύτην ἄπιξιν παρὰ Πρωτέα 
+
+, [f 
+
+ἔλεγον οἱ ἱρέες γενέσθαι" δοκέει δέ μοι καὶ Ὅμηρος 
+τὸν λόγον τοῦτον πυθέσθαι" ἀλλ᾽ οὐ γὰρ ὁμοίως 
+ἐς τὴν ἐποποιίην εὐπρεπὴς ἦν τῷ ἑτέρῳ τῷ περ 
+ἐχρήσατο, ἑκὼν μετῆκε αὐτόν, δηλώσας ὡς καὶ 
+τοῦτον ἐπίσταιτο τὸν λόγον: δῆλον δὲ κατὰ [yàp]! 
+2 / 5 , / M , ^ y , / 
+ἐποίησε ἐν ᾿Ιλιάδι (καὶ οὐδαμῇ ἄλλη ἀνεπόδισε 
+e / / M , / ε , , 
+ἑωυτόν) πλάνην τὴν ᾿Αλεξάνδρου, ws ἀπηνείχθη 
+» € , ^ A N , \ e 
+ἄγων Ἑλένην τῇ τε δὴ ἄλλῃ πλαζόμενος καὶ ὡς 
+ἐς Σιδῶνα τῆς Φοινίκης ἀπίκετο. ἐπιμέμνηται δὲ 
+αὐτοῦ ἐν Διομήδεος ἀριστηίη' λέγει δὲ τὰ ἔπεα 
+T7 
+ὧδε. 
+
+
+LÁ , x e 2 , y ^ 
+Ενθ' ἔσαν οἱ πέπλοι παμποίκιλοι, ἔργα γυναικῶν 
+Σ ΄ . 9 M 3 , , 
+ιδονίων, τὰς αὐτὸς ᾿Αλέξανδρος θεοειδής 
+xv / 2 M NT. , 
+ἤγαγε Σιδονίηθεν, ἐπιπλὼς εὐρέα πόντον, 
+` CaN ἔῃ ’ , ’ ? / 
+τὴν ὁδὸν ἣν ᾿Ελένην περ ἀνήγαγεν εὐπατέρειαν. 
+
+
+9 [4 . . 9 3 , , ^ ^ 
+ἐπιμέμνηται δὲ καὶ ἐν Οδυσσείη ἐν τοῖσιδε τοῖσι 
+ἔπεσι. ! 
+
+
+Tota Διὸς θυγάτηρ ἔχε φάρμακα µητιύεντα, 
+
+2 4 / M r , ^ ΄ 
+
+ἐσθλά, τά οἱ Πολύδαμνα πόρεν Θῶνος παρά- 
+κοιτις 
+
+Αἰγυπτίη, τῇ πλεῖστα φέρει ζείδωρος ἄρουρα 
+
+φάρμακα, πολλὰ μὲν ἐσθλὰ μεμιγμένα, πολλὰ 
+δὲ λυγρά. 
+
+1 κατά = καθά, ‘according as." γάρ is out of place here. 
+
+
+406 
+
+
+BOOK IL. 115-116 
+
+
+take them away ; but as for you and the companions 
+of your voyage, I warn you to depart from my 
+country elsewhither within three days, else I will 
+deal with you as with enemies.' 
+
+116. This, by what the priests told me, was the 
+manner of Helen's coming to Proteus. And, to my 
+thinking, Homer too knew this story ; but seeing that 
+it suited not so well with epic poetry as the tale of 
+which he made use, he rejected it of set purpose, 
+showing withal that he knew it. This is plain, from 
+the passage in the Iliad (and nowhere else does he 
+return to the story) where he relates the wanderings 
+of Alexandrus, and shows how he with Helen was 
+carried out of his course, among other places, to 
+Sidon in Phoenice. This is in the story of the Feats 
+of Diomedes, where the verses run as follows: 
+
+
+There were the robes in his house, inwrought with 
+manifold colours, 
+
+Work of the women of Sidon, whom godlike Paris 
+aforetime 
+
+Brought from their eastern town, o'er wide seas 
+voyaging thither, 
+
+E'en when he won from her home fair Helen, the 
+daughter of princes.} 
+
+
+He makes mention of it in the Odyssey also: 
+
+
+Suchlike drugs of grace, for a healing cunningly 
+mingled, 
+
+Once in the land of Nile had the wife of Thon, 
+Polydamna, 
+
+Giv'n to the daughter of Zeus; for there of the 
+country's abundance, 
+
+Potent to heal or to harm, are herbs full many 
+engendered : 3 
+
+
+1 Tl. vi. 289-92, 2 Od. iv. 227-30. 
+: 407 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+καὶ τάδε ἕτερα πρὸς Τηλέμαχον Μενέλεως λέγει. 
+
+
+Αἰγύπτῳ μ᾿ ἔτι δεῦρο θεοὶ μεμαῶτα νέεσθαι 
+ἔσχον, ἐπεὶ οὔ σφιν ἔρεξα τεληέσσας ἑκατόμβας. 
+
+
+ἐν τούτοισι τοῖσι ἔπεσι δηλοῖ ὅτι ἠπίστατο τὴν ἐς 
+Αἴγυπτον ᾿Αλεξάνδρου πλάνην' ὁμουρέει γὰρ ἡ 
+Lupin Αἰγύπτῳ, οἱ δὲ Φοίνικες, τῶν ἐστὶ ἡ Σιδών, 
+ἐν τῇ Συρίῃ οἰκέουσι. 
+
+117. Κατὰ ταῦτα δὲ τὰ ἔπεα καὶ τόδε τὸ 
+
+ωρίον οὐκ ἥκιστα ἀλλὰ μάλιστα δηλοῖ ὅτι οὐκ 
+Ομήρου τὰ Κύπρια ἔπεα ἐστὶ ἀλλ᾽ ἄλλου τινός. 
+ἐν μὲν γὰρ τοῖσι Κυπρίοισι εἴρηται ὡς τριταῖος 
+ἐκ Σπάρτης ᾿Αλέξανδρος ἀπίκετο ἐς τὸ Ἴλιον 
+
+ε 
+
+ἄγων Ἑλένην, evade τε πνεύματι χρησάμενος καὶ 
+θαλάσσῃ λείῃ' ἐν δὲ Ἰλιάδι λέγει ὡς ἐπλάξετο 
+ἄγων αὐτήν. 
+
+118. Ὅμηρος μέν νυν καὶ τὰ Κύπρια ἔπεα 
+χαιρέτω. εἰρομένου δέ uev τοὺς ἱρέας εἰ μάταιον 
+λόγον λέγουσι οἱ "Ἕλληνες τὰ περὶ Ἴλιον γενέ- 
+σθαι ἢ οὔ, ἔφασαν πρὸς ταῦτα τάδε, ἱστορίησι 
+
+^ 7 A 
+φάμενοι εἰδέναι παρ᾽ αὐτοῦ Μενέλεω. ἐλθεῖν μὲν 
+ij ε [4 ε 4 3 . r / 
+γὰρ μετὰ τὴν “Ελένης ἁρπαγὴν és τὴν Τευκρίδα 
+^ € Ld ~ M ^ / 
+γῆν Ἑλλήνων στρατιὴν πολλὴν βοηθεῦσαν Μενέ- 
+λεῳ, ἐκβᾶσαν δὲ ἐς γῆν καὶ ἱδρυθεῖσαν τὴν 
+στρατιὴν πέμπειν ἐς τὸ Ἴλιον ἀγγέλους, σὺν δέ 
+27 > νι \ , , , 
+σφι ἰέναι καὶ αὐτὸν Μενέλεων' τοὺς δ᾽ ἐπείτε 
+A A € 
+ἐσελθεῖν ἐς τὸ τεῖχος, ἀπαιτέειν Ἑλένην τε καὶ 
+hS /, lA e y / , / 
+τὰ χρήματα τά οἱ οἴχετο κλέψας͵ Αλέξανδρος, 
+τῶν τε ἀδικημάτων δίκας αἰτέειν: τοὺς δὲ Tev- 
+1 Stein brackets ἐπιμέμνηται . . . ἑκατόμβας, because (as he 
+
+
+says) the quotations from the Odyssey have nothing to do 
+with the story of Alexandrus. 
+
+
+408 
+
+
+BOOK IL. 116-118 
+and again Menelaus says to Telemachus: 
+
+
+Eager was I to return, but the gods fast held me in 
+Egypt 
+
+Wroth that I honoured them not nor offered a sacri- 
+fice duly.1 
+
+
+In these verses the poet shows that he knew of 
+Alexandrus' wanderings to Egypt ; for Syria borders 
+on Egypt, and the Phoenicians, to whom Sidon 
+belongs, dwell in Syria. 
+
+117. These verses and this passage prove most 
+clearly that the Cyprian poems are by the hand not 
+of Homer but of another. For the Cyprian poems 
+relate that Alexandrus reached llion with Helen 
+in three days from Sparta, having a fair wind and a 
+smooth sea; but according to the Iliad he wandered 
+from his course in bringing her. 
+
+118. Enough, then, of Homer and the Cyprian 
+poems. But when I asked the priests whether the 
+Greek account of the Trojan business were vain or 
+true, they gave me the following answer, saying that 
+they had inquired and knew what Menelaus himself 
+had said :—After the rape of Helen, a great host of 
+Greeks came to the Teucrian land on Menelaus' 
+behalf. Having there disembarked and encamped, 
+they sent to Ilion messengers, of whom Menelaus 
+himself was one. These, on coming within the city 
+walls, demanded restitution of Helen and the possess- 
+ions which Alexandrus had stolen from Menelaus and 
+carried off, and reparation besides for the wrong 
+done; but the Teucrians then and ever afterwards 
+
+
+1 Od. iv. 351, 9. 
+409 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+κροὺς τὸν αὐτὸν λόγον λέγειν τότε καὶ μετέπειτα, 
+καὶ ομνύντας καὶ ἀνωμοτί, μι] pev ἔχειν ᾿Ελένην 
+μηδὲ τὰ ἐπικαλεύμενα χρήματα, ἀλλ᾽ εἶναι αὐτὰ 
+πάντα ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ, καὶ οὐκ ἂν δικαίως αὐτοὶ 
+δίκας ὑπέχειν τῶν Πρωτεὺς ὁ Αἰγύπτιος βασιλεὺς 
+ἔχει. οἱ δὲ “Ἕλληνες καταγελᾶσθαι δοκέοντες 
+ὑπ αὐτῶν οὕτω δὴ ἐπολιόρκεον, ἐς ὃ ἐξεῖλον: 
+ἑλοῦσι δὲ τὸ τεῖχος ὡς οὐκ ἐφαίνετο ἡ Ελένη], 
+ἀλλὰ τὸν αὐτὸν λόγον τῷ προτέρῳ ἐπυνθάνοντο, 
+οὕτω δὴ πιστεύσαντες τῷ λόγῳ τῷ πρώτῳ οἱ 
+"Ελληνες αὐτὸν Μενέλεων ἀποστέλλουσι παρὰ 
+Πρωτέα. 
+
+119. ᾿Απικόμενος δὲ 0 Μενέλεως ἐς τὴν Αἴγυπτον 
+καὶ ἀναπλώσας ἐς τὴν Μέμφιν, εἴπας τὴν arn- 
+θείην τῶν πρηγμάτων, καὶ ξεινίων ἤντησε μεγάλων 
+καὶ Ἑλένην ἀπαθέα κακῶν ἀπέλαβε, πρὸς δὲ καὶ 
+τὰ ἑωυτοῦ χρήματα πάντα. τυχὼν μέντοι τούτων 
+ἐγένετο Μενέλεως ἀνὴρ ἄδικος ἐς Αἰγυπτίους. 
+ἀποπλέειν γὰρ ὁρμημένον αὐτὸν ἴσχον ἁπλοῖαι' 
+ἐπειδὴ δὲ τοῦτο ἐπὶ πολλὸν τοιοῦτον ἦν, ἐπι- 
+τεχνᾶται πρῆγμα οὐκ. ὅσιον" λαβὼν γὰρ. δύο 
+παιδία ἀνδρῶν ἐπιχωρίων ἔντομα σφέα ἐποίησε. 
+μετὰ δὲ ὡς ἐπάιστος ἐγένετο τοῦτο ἐργασμένος, 
+μισηθείς τε καὶ διωκόμενος οἴχετο φεύγων τῆσι 
+νηυσὶ ἐπὶ Λιβύης: τὸ ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ ὅκου ἔτι 
+ἐτράπετο οὐκ εἶχον εἰπεῖν Αἰγύπτιοι. τούτων 
+δὲ τὰ μὲν ἱστορίῃσι ἔφασαν ἐπίστασθαι, τὰ δὲ 
+map ἑωυτοῖσι γενόμενα ἀτρεκέως ἐπιστάμενοι 
+λέγειν. 
+
+190. Ταῦτα μὲν Αἰγυπτίων οἱ ἱρέες ἔλεγον' ἐγὼ 
+δὲ τῷ λόγῳ τῷ περὶ Ἑλένης λεχθέντι καὶ αὐτὸς 
+προστίθεµαι, τάδε ἐπιλεγόμενος, εἰ ἦν Ελένη ἐν 
+
+
+41ο 
+
+
+BOOK II. 118-120 
+
+
+declared, with oaths and without, that neither Helen 
+nor the goods claimed were with them, she and they 
+being in Egypt ; nor could they (so they said) justly 
+make reparation for what was in the hands of tlie 
+Egyptian king Proteus. But the Greeks thought 
+that the Trojans mocked them, and therewith 
+besieged tlie city, till they took it; and it was not 
+till they took the fortress and found no Helen there, 
+and heard the same declaration as before, that they 
+gave credence to the Trojans’ first word and so sent 
+Menelaus himself to Proteus. 
+
+119. Menelaus then came to Egypt and went up 
+the river to Memphis; there, telling the whole truth 
+of what had happened, he was very hospitably 
+entertained and received back Helen unharmed and 
+all his possessions withal. Yet, albeit so well 
+entreated, Menelaus did the Egyptians a wrong. 
+For when he would have sailed away he was stayed 
+by stress of weather; and this hindrance continuing 
+for long, he devised and did a forbidden deed, taking 
+two children of the land and sacrificing them. When 
+it was known that he had so done, the people hated 
+and pursued him, and he fled away with his ships to 
+Libya; and whither he thence betook himself the 
+Egyptians could not say. The priests told me that 
+they had learnt some of this tale by inquiry, but that 
+they spoke with exact knowledge of what had 
+happened in their own country. 
+
+120. So much was told me by the Egyptian priests. 
+For myself, I believe their story about Helen: for I 
+reason thus—that had Helen been in Ilion, then 
+
+
+411 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Ἰλίῳ, ἀποδοθῆναι ἂν αὐτὴν τοῖσι "Ελλησι ήτοι 
+ἑκόντος γε ἢ ἀέκοντος ᾿Αλεξάνδρου. οὐ γὰρ δὴ 
+οὕτω γε φρενοβλαβὴς ἢ ἦν ὁ Πρίαμος οὐδὲ οἱ ἄλλοι οἱ 
+προσήκοντες αὐτῷ, ὥστε τοῖσι σφετέροισι σώμασι 
+καὶ τοῖσι τέκνοισε καὶ τῇ πόλι κινδυνεύειν ἐβού- 
+λοντο, ὅκως ᾿Αλέξανδρος Ἑλένῃ συνοικέῃ. el δέ 
+τοι καὶ è ἐν τοῖσι πρώτοισι χρόνοισι ταῦτα ἐγίνω- 
+σκον, ἐπεὶ πολλοὶ μὲν τῶν ἄλλων Τρώων, OKOTE 
+συμμίσήοιεν τοῖσι Ἕλλησι, ἀπώλλυντο, αὐτοῦ δὲ 
+Πριάμου οὐκ ἔστι ὅτε οὐ δύο ἡ ἢ τρεῖς ἢ καὶ ἔτι πλέους 
+τῶν παίδων μάχης γινομένης ἀπέθνησκον, εἰ χρή 
+TL τοῖσι ἐποποιοῖσι χρεώµενον. λέγειν, τούτων δὲ 
+τοιούτων συμβαινόντων ἐγὼ μὲν ἔλπομαι, εἰ καὶ 
+αὐτὸς Πρίαμος συνοίκεε '"EXévg, ἀποδοῦναι ἂν 
+αὐτὴν τοῖσι ᾿Αχαιοῖσι, μέλλοντά γε δὴ τῶν πα- 
+ρεόντων. κακῶν ἀπαλλαγήσεσθαι. οὐ μὲν οὐδὲ 7) 
+Baciin és ᾿Αλέξανδρον περιήιε, ὥστε γέροντος 
+Πριάμου ἐόντος ἐπ᾽ ἐκείνῳ τὰ πρήγματα εἶναι, 
+ἀλλὰ "Ertop καὶ πρεσβύτερος καὶ ἀνὴρ ἐκείνου 
+μᾶλλον ἐὼν ἔμελλε αὐτὴν Πριάμου ἀποθανόντος 
+παραλάμψεσθαι, τὸν οὗ προσῆκε ἀδικέοντι τῷ 
+ἀδελφεῷ ἐπιτράπειν, καὶ ταῦτα μεγάλων κακῶν 
+δι᾽ αὐτὸν συμβαινόντων ἰδίῃ τε αὐτῷ καὶ τοῖσι 
+ἄλλοισι πᾶσι Τρωσί. ἀλλ. οὐ γὰρ εἶχον Ἑλένην 
+ἀποδοῦναι, οὐδὲ λέγουσι αὐτοῖσι τὴν ἀληθείην 
+ἐπίστευον οἱ "Έλληνες, ὡς μὲν ἐγὼ γνώμην ἀπο- 
+φαίνομαι, τοῦ δαιμονίου παρασκευάξοντος, ὅκως 
+πανωλεθρίῃ ἀπολόμενοι καταφανὲς τοῦτο τοῖσι 
+ἀνθρώποισι ποιήσωσι, ὡς τῶν μεγάλων ἀδικη- 
+μάτων μεγάλαι εἰσὶ καὶ αἱ τιμωρίαι παρὰ τῶν 
+θεῶν. καὶ ταῦτα μὲν τῇ ἐμοὶ δοκέει εἴρηται. 
+121. Τρωτέος δὲ ἐκδέξασθαι τὴν βασιληίην 
+
+
+412 
+
+
+oer a a et ere ar lb ac T— ΠΗ. ΓΒΕ 
+
+
+BOOK II. 120-121 
+
+
+with or without the will of Alexandrus she would have 
+been given back to the Greeks. For surely neither 
+was Priam so mad, nor those nearest to him, as to 
+consent to risk their own persons and their children 
+and their city, that Alexandrus might have Helen to 
+wife. Even be it granted that they were so minded 
+in the first days, yet when not only many of the 
+Trojans were slain in fighting against the Greeks, 
+but Priam himself lost by death two or three or even 
+more of his sons in every battle (if the poets are to 
+be trusted), in this turn of affairs, had Helen been 
+Priam’s own wife, I cannot but think (for myself) 
+that he would have restored her to the Greeks, if by 
+so doing he could eseape from the present evil plight. 
+Nay, nor was Alexandrus next heir to the kingship, 
+whereby he might have been the real ruler, Priam 
+being old; it was Hector, an older and a more 
+valiant man than Alexandrus, who was like to receive 
+the royal power at Priam’s death ; and it was none of 
+Hector's business to consent to his brother's wrong- 
+doing, least of all when that brother was the cause of 
+great calamity to Hector himself and the whole of 
+Troy beside. But matters fell out as they did 
+because the Trojans had not Helen there to give 
+back, yet though they spoke the truth the Greeks 
+would not believe them ; for, as I am convinced and 
+declare, the powers above ordained that the utter 
+destruction of Troy should prove in the sight of all 
+men that the gods do greatly punish great wrong- 
+doing. This is my own belief and thus I declare it. 
+121. The next to reign after Proteus (they said) 
+
+
+413 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+‘P ; y ^ , / \ 
+αμψίνιτον ἔλεγον, ὃς μνημόσυνα ἐλίπετο TA 
+προπύλαια τὰ πρὸς ἑσπέρην τετραμμένα τοῦ 
+Ἡφαιστείου, ἀντίους δὲ τῶν προπυλαίων ἔστησε 
+ἀνδριάντας δύο, ἐόντας τὸ μέγαθος πέντε καὶ 
+εἴκοσι πηχέων, τῶν Αἰγύπτιοι τὸν μὲν πρὸς βορέω 
+ἑστεῶτα καλέουσι θέρος, τὸν δὲ πρὸς νότον χει- 
+μῶνα' καὶ τὸν μὲν καλέουσι θέρος, τοῦτον μὲν 
+προσκυνέουσί τε καὶ εὖ ποιέουσι, τὸν δὲ χει- 
+μῶνα καλεόμενον τὰ ἔμπαλιν τούτων ἔρδουσι. 
+πλοῦτον δὲ τούτῳ τῷ βασιλέι γενέσθαι ἀργύρου 
+μέγαν, τὸν οὐδένα τῶν ὕστερον ἐπιτραφέντων 
+/ L4 8 e / ? 09 > . 
+Βασιλέων δύνασθαι ὑπερβαλέσθαι οὐδ᾽ ἐγγὺς 
+ἐλθεῖν. βουλόμενον δὲ αὐτὸν ἐν ἀσφαλείῃ τὰ 
+χρήματα θησαυρίξειν οἰκοδομέεσθαι οἴκημα λί- 
+θινον, τοῦ τῶν τοίχων ἕνα ἐς τὸ ἔξω μέρος τῆς 
+οἰκίης ἔχειν. τὸν δὲ ἐργαζόμενον ἐπιβουλεύοντα 
+τάδε μηχανᾶσθαι" τῶν λίθων παρασκευάσασθαι 
+ἕνα ἐξαιρετὸν εἶναι ἐκ τοῦ τοίχου ῥηιδίως καὶ ὑπὸ 
+δύο ἀνδρῶν καὶ ὑπὸ ἑνός. ὡς δὲ ἐπετελέσθη τὸ 
+οἴκημα, τὸν μὲν βασιλέα θησαυρίσαι τὰ χρήματα 
+ἐν αὐτῷ" χρόνου δὲ περιιόντος τὸν οἰκοδόμον περὶ 
+τελευτὴν τοῦ βίου ἐόντα ἀνακαλέσασθαι τοὺς 
+παῖδας (εἶναι γὰρ αὐτῷ δύο), τούτοισι δὲ ἀπηγή- 
+σασθαι ὡς ἐκείνων προορῶν, ὅκως βίον ἄφθονον 
+ἔχωσι, τεχνάσαιτο οἰκοδομέων τὸν θησαυρὸν τοῦ 
+βασιλέος: σαφέως δὲ αὐτοῖσι πάντα ἐξηγησά- 
+μενον τὰ περὶ τὴν ἐξαίρεσιν τοῦ λίθου δοῦναι τὰ 
+μέτρα αὐτοῦ, λέγοντα ὡς ταῦτα διαφυλάσσοντες 
+ταμίαι τῶν βασιλέος χρημάτων ἔσονται. καὶ τὸν 
+μὲν τελευτῆσαι τὸν βίον, τοὺς δὲ παῖδας οὐκ ἐς 
+μακρὴν ἔργου ἔχεσθαι, ἐπελθόντας δὲ ἐπὶ τὰ 
+βασιλήια νυκτὸς καὶ τὸν λίθον ἐπὶ τῷ οἰκοδο- 
+
+
+414 
+
+
+Εκ o - T - wh X πω τα 
+
+
+πα ο ῃ ὃ- ES a ο τας CH ES 
+
+
+STS —— Ss —=— 
+
+
+ee ο σι ΕΓ 
+
+
+BOOK Il. ται 
+
+
+was Rhampsinitus. The memorial of his name left 
+by him was the western forecourt of the temple of 
+Hephaestus ; before this he set two statues of twenty- 
+five cubits’ height; the northernmost of these is 
+called by the Egyptians Summer, and the southern- 
+most Winter; that one which they call Summer 
+they worship and entreat well, but do contrariwise 
+to the statue called Winter. This king (they told 
+me) had great wealth of silver, so great that none 
+of the later-born kings could surpass or nearly 
+match it. That he might store his treasure safely, 
+he made to be built a stone chamber, one of its 
+walls abutting on the outer side of his palace. 
+But the builder of it craftily contrived that one 
+stone should be so placed as to be easily removed by 
+two men or even by one. So when the chamber 
+was finished, the king stored his treasure in it. 
+But as time went on, the builder, being now near 
+his end, called to him his two sons and told them 
+how he had provided an ample livelihood for them 
+by the art with which he had built the king’s 
+treasure-house ; he made them clearly to under- 
+stand concerning the removal of the stone, and 
+gave the measurements which would find it; saying 
+that if they kept these in mind they would be 
+stewards of the king's riches. So when he was dead, 
+his sons set to work with no long delay: coming 
+to the palace by night, they easily found and 
+
+
+415 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μήματι ἀνευρόντας ῥηιδίως μεταχειρίσασθαι καὶ 
+τῶν χρημάτων πολλὰ ἐξενείκασθαι. ὡς δὲ τυχεῖν 
+τὸν βασιλέα ἀνοίξαντα τὸ οἴκημα, θωμάσαι ἰδόντα 
+τῶν χρημάτων καταδεᾶ τὰ ἀγγήια, οὐκ ἔχειν δὲ 
+ὅντινα ἐπαιτιᾶται, τῶν τε σημάντρων ἐόντων σόων 
+καὶ τοῦ οἰκήματος κεκληιμένου. ὡς δὲ αὐτῷ καὶ 
+δὶς καὶ τρὶς ἀνοίξαντι αἰεὶ ἐλάσσω φαίνεσθαι τὰ 
+χρήματα (τοὺς γὰρ κλέπτας οὐκ ἀνιέναι κεραΐ- 
+ζοντας), ποιῆσαί μιν τάδε" πάγας προστάξαι 
+ἐργάσασθαι καὶ ταύτας περὶ τὰ ἀγγήια ἐν τοῖσι 
+τὰ χρήματα ἐνῆν στῆσαι. τῶν δὲ φωρῶν ὥσπερ 
+ἐν τῷ πρὸ τοῦ Χρόνῳ. ἐλθόντων καὶ ἐσδύντος τοῦ 
+ἑτέρου αὐτῶν, ἐπεὶ πρὸς τὸ ἄγγος προσῆλθε, ἰθέως 
+τῇ πάγῃ ἐνέχεσθαι. ὡς δὲ γνῶναι αὐτὸν ἐν οἵῳ 
+κακῷ ἦν, ἰθέως καλέειν τὸν ἀδελφεὸν καὶ δηλοῦν 
+αὐτῷ τὰ παρεόντα, καὶ κελεύειν τὴν ταχίστην 
+ἐσδύντα ἀποταμεῖν αὐτοῦ τὴν κεφαλήν, ὅκως μὴ 
+αὐτὸς ὀφθεὶς καὶ γνωρισθεὶς ὃ ὃς εἴη προσαπολέσῃ 
+κἀκεῖνον. τῷ δὲ δόξαι εὖ λέγειν, καὶ ποιῆσαί μιν 
+πεισθέντα ταῦτα, καὶ καταρμόσαντα τὸν λίθον 
+ἀπιέναι ἐπ᾽ olov, φέροντα τὴν κεφαλὴν τοῦ 
+ἀδελφεοῦ. ὡς δὲ ἡμέρη ἐγένετο, ἐσελθόντα τὸν 
+βασιλέα ἐς τὸ οἴκημα. ἐκπεπλῆχθαι -ὁρῶντα τὸ 
+σῶμα τοῦ φωρὸς ἐν τῇ πάγῃ ἄνευ τῆς κεφαλῆς 
+ἐόν, τὸ δὲ οἴκημα, ἀσινὲς καὶ οὔτε ἔσοδον οὔτε 
+ἔκδυσιν οὐδεμίαν € ἔχον. ἀπορεύμενον δέ μι τάδε 
+ποιῆσαι' τοῦ φωρὸς τὸν νέκυν κατὰ τοῦ τείχεος 
+κατακρεµάσαι, φυλάκους δὲ αὐτοῦ καταστήσαντα 
+ἐντείλασθαί σφι, τὸν ἂν ἴδωνται, ἀποκλαύσαντα ἢ 
+κατοικτισάμενον, συλλαβόντας ἄ ἄγειν πρὸς ἑωυτόν. 
+
+᾿Ανακρεμαμένου δὲ τοῦ νέκυος τὴν μητέρα 
+δεινῶς φέρειν, λόγους δὲ πρὸς τὸν περιεόντα παῖδα 
+
+
+416 
+
+
+w-— = — = Sar = — 
+
+
+— “Ἔν. E. -— = ÅT ob- 
+
+
+M ο. EE Pea aw (ae γω Ld C νι ον νι —— — o 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΙ. ται 
+
+
+handled the stone in the building, and took away 
+much of the treasure. When the king opened the 
+building, he was amazed to see the vessels lacking 
+their full tale of treasure; yet he knew not whom 
+to accuse, seeing that the seals were unbroken and 
+the chamber fast shut. But when at the second 
+and third opening of the chamber he saw the 
+treasure grown ever less (for the thieves ceased not 
+from plundering), he bid traps to be made and set 
+about the vessels in which his riches lay. The 
+thieves came as they had done before, and one of 
+them crept in; when he came near the vessel, at 
+once he was caught and held in the trap. Seeing 
+his evil plight, he straightway called to his brother, 
+and, showing him how matters stood, “Creep in 
+quickly," said he, “and cut off my head, lest I be 
+seen and recognised and so bring you too to ruin." 
+The brother consented and did this, thinking the 
+counsel good. Then he set the stone in place 
+again, and went away home, carrying his brother's 
+head. When it was morning the king came to the 
+chamber, and was amazed to see the thief's head- 
+less body in the trap, yet the chamber unbroken, 
+with no way of passing in or out; and he knew 
+not what to do. But presently he hung the thief's 
+dead body on the outer wall, and set guards over 
+it, charging them to seize and bring before him 
+whomsoever they should see weeping or making 
+lamentation. 
+
+But the thief’s mother, when the body had 
+been so hung, was greatly moved : she talked with 
+
+
+417 
+
+
+ἊΝ 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ποιευμένην προστάσσειν αὐτῷ ὅτεῳ τρόπῳ δύναται 
+μηχανᾶσθαι à ὅκως τὸ σῶμα τοῦ ἀδελφεοῦ κατα- 
+λύσας co paci et δὲ τούτων ἀμελήσει, διαπειλέειν 
+αὐτὴν ὡς ἐλθοῦσα πρὸς τὸν βασιλέα μηνύσει 
+αὐτὸν ἔχοντα τὰ χρήματα. ὡς δὲ χαλεπῶς 
+ἐλαμβάνετο ἡ μήτηρ τοῦ περιεόντος παιδὸς καὶ 
+πολλὰ πρὸς αὐτὴν λέγων οὐκ ἔπειθε, ἐπιτεχνή- 
+σασθαι τοιάδε μιν' ὄνους κατασκευασάµενον καὶ 
+ἀσκοὺς πλήσαντα οἴνου ἐπιθεῖναι ἐπὶ τῶν ὄνων 
+καὶ ἔπειτα ἐλαύνειν αὐτούς" ὡς δὲ κατὰ τοὺς 
+φυλάσσοντας ἦν τὸν κρεμάμενον νέκυν, ἐπισπά- 
+σαντα τῶν ἀσκῶν δύο 7 τρεῖς ποδεῶνας αὐτὸν 
+λύειν ἀπαμμένους' ὡς δὲ ἔρρεε ὁ οἶνος, τὴν κε- 
+parry μιν κόπτεσθαι μεγάλα βοῶντα ὡς οὐκ 
+ἔχοντα πρὸς ὁκοῖον τῶν ὄνων πρῶτον τράπηται. 
+τοὺς δὲ φυλάκους ὡς ἰδεῖν πολλὸν -ῥέοντα τὸν 
+οἶνον, .συντρέχειν ἐς τὴν ὁδὸν ἀγγήια ἔχοντας, 
+καὶ τὸν ἐκκεχυμένον οἶνον συγκομίξειν ἐν κέρδεὶ 
+ποιευμένους" τὸν δὲ διαλοιδορέεσθαι πᾶσι ὀργὴν 
+προσποιεύμενον, παραμυθευμένων δὲ αὐτὸν τῶν 
+φυλάκων χρόνῳ πρηὔνεσθαι προσποιέεσθαι καὶ 
+ὑπίεσθαι τῆς ὀργῆς, τέλος δὲ ἐξελάσαι αὐτὸν τοὺς 
+ὄνους . ἐκ τῆς ὁδοῦ καὶ κατασκευάξειν. ὡς δὲ 
+Ἀόγους τε πλέους ἐγγίνεσθαι καί τινα καὶ σκῶψαι 
+μιν καὶ ἐς ᾿γέλωτα προαγαγέσόαι, ἐπιδοῦναι αὐτοῖσι 
+τῶν ἀσκῶν ἕνα" τοὺς δὲ αὐτοῦ ὥσπερ εἶχον κατα- 
+κλιθέντας πίνειν διανοέεσθαι, καὶ ἐκεῖνον παρα- 
+λαμβάνειν καὶ κελεύειν μετ᾽ ἑωυτῶν μείναντα 
+συμπίνειν" τὸν δὲ πεισθῆναί τε δὴ καὶ καταμεῖναι. 
+ὡς δέ μιν παρὰ τὴν TTV Φιλοφρόνως ἠσπάζοντο, 
+ἐπιδοῦναι αὐτοῖσι καὶ ἄλλον τῶν ἀσκῶν' δαψιλέι 
+δὲ τῷ ποτῷ χρησαμένους τοὺς φυλάκους ὑπερμε- 
+
+
+418 
+
+
+= μ.ο ο τπτ πο ορ ο: = -e = 
+
+
+ΕΝ - — TW μας o» 
+
+
+κο. ο. Gite ο ντ ο a πμ πω... ον Cees mL T 
+
+
+BOOK II. ται 
+
+
+her surviving son, and bade him contrive by what- 
+ever means to loose and bring her his brother's 
+body, threatening that if he would not obey her 
+she would go to the king and lay an information 
+that he had the treasure. So when she bitterly 
+reproached him and for all he said he could not 
+overpersuade her, the brother devised a plot: he 
+got his asses and loaded them with skins full of 
+wine and then drove them before him till he came 
+near those who guarded the hanging body ; then he 
+pulled at the feet of two or three of the skins and 
+loosed their fastenings; and the wine so running out, 
+he cried aloud and beat his head like one that knew 
+not which of his asses he should deal with first. 
+The guards, seeing the wine running freely, all 
+took vessels and ran into the highway, where they 
+caught the spilt wine, and thought themselves 
+lucky; the man pretended to be angry and reviled 
+each and all of them; but the guards speaking 
+peaceably to him, he presently made as if he 
+were comforted and appeased, till at last he drove 
+his asses aside from the highway and put his gear in. 
+order. So the guards and he fell into talk, and 
+one of them jesting with him, so that there was 
+laughter, he gave them one of the skins: where- 
+upon without more ado they sat down and began 
+to drink, making him one of their company and 
+bidding him stay and drink with them; and he 
+consented and stayed. They drank to him merrily, 
+and he gave them yet another of the skins, till the 
+guards grew very drunk with the abundance of 
+
+
+419 
+
+
+JE 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Φυσθῆναι καὶ κρατηθέντας ὑπὸ τοῦ ὕπνου αὐτοῦ 
+ἔνθα περ ἔπινον κατακοιµηθῆναι. τὸν δέ, ὡς 
+πρόσω ἦν τῆς νυκτός, τό τε σῶμα τοῦ ἀδελφεοῦ 
+καταλῦσαι καὶ τῶν φυλάκων ἐπὶ λύμῃ πάντων 
+ξυρῆσαι τὰς δεξιὰς παρηίδας, ἐπιθέντα δὲ τὸν 
+νέκυν ἐπὶ τοὺς ὄνους ἀπελαύνειν ἐπ᾽ οἴκου, ἐπιτε- 
+λέσαντα τῇ μητρὶ τὰ προσταχθέντα. 
+
+Τὸν δὲ βασιλέα, ὡς αὐτῷ ἀπηγγέλθη τοῦ φωρὸς 
+ὁ νέκυς ἐκκεκλεμμένος, δεινὰ ποιέειν' πάντως δὲ 
+βουλόμενον εὑρεθῆναι ὅστις κοτὲ εἴη ὁ ταῦτα 
+μηχανώμενος, ποιῆσαί μιν τάδε, ἐμοὶ μὲν οὐ 
+πιστά. τὴν θυγατέρα τὴν ἑωυτοῦ κατίσαι ἐπ᾽ 
+οἰκήματος, ἐντειλάμενον πάντας τε ὁμοίως προσ- 
+δέκεσθαι, καὶ πρὶν συγγενέσθαι, ἀναγκάξειν 
+λέγειν αὐτῇ ὅ τι δὴ ἐν τῷ βίῳ ἔργασται αὐτῷ 
+σοφώτατον καὶ ἀνοσιώτατον' ὃς Ò ἂν ἀπηγή- 
+σηται τὰ περὶ τὸν φῶρα γεγενημένα, τοῦτον 
+συλλαμβάνειν καὶ μὴ ἀπιέναι ἔξω. ὡς δὲ τὴν 
+παῖδα ποιέειν τὰ ἐκ τοῦ πατρὸς προσταχθέντα, τὸν 
+φῶρα πυθόμενον τῶν εἵνεκα ταῦτα ἐπρήσσετο, 
+βουληθέντα πολυτροπίῃ τοῦ βασιλέος περιγενέ- 
+σθαι ποιέειν τάδε' νεκροῦ προσφάτου ἀποταμόντα 
+ἐν τῷ ὤμῳ τὴν χεῖρα ἰέναι αὐτὸν ἔχοντα αὐτὴν 
+ὑπὸ τῷ ἱματίῳ. ἐσελθόντα δὲ ὡς τοῦ βασιλέος 
+τὴν θυγατέρα καὶ εἰρωτώμενον τά περ καὶ οἱ 
+ἄλλοι, ἀπηγήσασθαι ὡς ἀνοσιώτατον μὲν εἴη 
+ἐργασμένος ὅτι τοῦ ἀδελφεοῦ ἐν τῷ θησαυρῷ τοῦ 
+βασιλέος ὑπὸ πάγης ἁλόντος ἀποτάμοι τὴν κε- 
+φαλήν, σοφώτατον δὲ ὅτι τοὺς φυλάκους κατα- 
+μεθύσας καταλύσειε τοῦ ἀδελφεοῦ κρεμάμενον τὸν 
+νέκυν. τὴν δὲ ὡς ἤκουσε ἅπτεσθαι αὐτοῦ. τὸν 
+δὲ φῶρα ἐν τῷ σκότεϊ προτεῖναι αὐτῇ τοῦ νεκροῦ 
+420 
+
+
+τα πα 
+
+
+“νυν ο, 
+
+
+πο τν ———-—o- ἂν BE O μα του» T 
+
+
+ο - ο CU ἕο Å| A—- 
+
+
+hu - AMA 
+
+
+—— 
+
+
+BOOK II. rer 
+
+
+liquor, and at last being overmastered by sleep lay 
+down in the place where they had been drinking. 
+When the night was far spent, the thief cut down 
+his brother’s body and then (first shaving all the 
+guard’s right cheeks by way of insult) laid it on his 
+asses and drove them home, having so fulfilled his 
+mother’s commands for her. 
+
+When the king was told of the stealing away of 
+the dead thief’s body he was very angry, and re- 
+solved by all means to find who it was that had 
+plotted the deed. So he bade his daughter (such 
+is the story, but I myself do not believe it) to sit in 
+a certain room and receive alike all who came; 
+before she had intercourse with any, she should 
+compel him to tell her what was the cleverest trick 
+and the greatest crime of his life; then if any told 
+her the story of the thief she must seize him and 
+not suffer him to pass out. The girl did as her 
+father bade her. The thief, learning the purpose 
+of the king’s act, was minded to get the better of 
+him by ready cunning. He therefore cut off the 
+arm of a man newly dead at the shoulder, and went 
+to the king’s daughter, carrying it under his cloak, 
+and when asked the same question as the rest, he 
+told her that his greatest crime was the cutting off 
+of his brother’s head when the brother was caught 
+in a trap in the king’s treasury, and his cleverest 
+trick the release of his brother's hanging body by - 
+making the guards drunk. Hearing this, the prin- 
+cess would have laid hands on him, but the thief in 
+
+421 
+
+
+Ib 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τὴν χεῖρα" τὴν δὲ ἐπιλαβομένην ἔ ἔχειν, νομίζουσαν 
+αὐτοῦ ἐκείνου τῆς χειρὸς ἀντέχεσθαι" τὸν δὲ φῶρα 
+προέμενον αὐτῇ οἴχεσθαι διὰ θυρέων φεύγοντα. 
+
+Ὡς δὲ καὶ ταῦτα ἐς τὸν βασιλέα ἀνηνείχθη, 
+ἐκπεπλῆχθαι μὲν ἐπὶ τῇ πολυφροσύνῃ τε καὶ 
+τόλμῃ τοῦ ἀνθρώπου, τέλος δὲ διαπέμποντα ἐς 
+πάσας τὰς πόλις ἐπαγγέλλεσθαι ἀδείην. τε δι- 
+δόντα καὶ μεγάλα ὑποδεκόμενον ἐλθόντι ἐς ὄψιν 
+τὴν ἑωυτοῦ. τὸν δὲ φῶρα πιστεύσαντα ἐλθεῖν 
+πρὸς αὐτόν, 'Ῥαμψίνιτον δὲ μεγάλως θωμάσαι, καί 
+οἱ τὴν θυγατέρα ταύτην συνοικίσαι ὡς πλεῖστα 
+ἐπισταμένῳ ἀνθρώπων. Αἰγυπτίους μὲν γὰρ τῶν 
+ἄλλων προκεκρίσθαι, ἐ ἐκεῖνον δὲ Αἰγυπτίων. 
+
+122. Μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα ἔλεγον τοῦτον τὸν βασιλέα 
+ζωὸν καταβῆναι κάτω ἐς τὸν οἱ "Ελληνες "Αιδην 
+νομίζουσι εἶναι, καὶ κεῖθι συγκυβεύειν τῇ Δήμητρι, 
+καὶ τὰ μὲν νικᾶν αὐτὴν τὰ δὲ ἑσσοῦσθαι ὑπ 
+αὐτῆς, καί μιν πάλιν ἀπικέσθαι δῶρον. ἔχοντα 
+παρ᾽ αὐτῆς χειρόµακτρον χρύσεον. ἀπὸ δὲ τῆς 
+“Ῥαμψινίτου καταββάσιος, ὦ ὡς πάλιν ἀπίκετο, ὁρτὴν 
+δὴ ἆ ἀνάγει» Αἰγυπτίους ἔφασαν: τὴν καὶ ἐγὼ οἶδα 
+ἔτι καὶ ἐς ἐμὲ ἐπιτελέοντας αὐτούς, οὐ μέντοι εἴ 
+γε διὰ ταῦτα ὁρτάξουσι ἔχω λέγειν. φᾶρος δὲ 
+αὐτημερὸν ἐξυ ήναντες οἱ ἱρέες κατ᾽ wv ἔδησαν 
+ἑνὸς ἑωυτῶν μίτρῃ τοὺς ὀφθαλμούς, ἀγαγόντες δέ 
+μιν ἔχοντα τὸ φᾶρος ἐς ὁδὸν φέρουσαν ἐς ἱρὸν 
+Δήμητρος αὐτοὶ ἀπαλλάσσονται ὀπίσω: τὸν δὲ 
+ἑρέα τοῦτον καταδεδεµένον τοὺς ὀφθαλμοὺς λέγουσι 
+ὑπὸ δύο λύκων ἄγεσθαι ἐς τὸ ἱρὸν τῆς Δήμητρος 
+ἀπέχον τῆς πόλιος εἴκοσι σταδίους, καὶ αὖτις 
+ὀπίσω ἐκ τοῦ ἱροῦ ἀπάγειν μιν τοὺς λύκους ἐς 
+τὠυτὸ χωρίον. 
+
+
+422 
+
+
+BOOK II. 121-122 
+
+
+the darkness giving her the dead man's arm, she 
+seized that, thinking that she was grasping the arm 
+of the thief, who, having given it to her, made his 
+escape by way of the door. 
+
+When this also came to the king’s ears, he was 
+astonished at the man's ingenuity and daring, and in 
+the end, he sent a proclamation to every town, 
+promising the thief impunity and a great reward if 
+he would come into the king's presence. The thief 
+trusted the king and came before him; Rhamp- 
+sinitus admired him greatly and gave him his 
+daughter to wife for his surpassing cleverness, for 
+as the Egyptians (said he) excelled all others in 
+craft, so did he excel the Egyptians. 
+
+122. After this (said the priests) this king went 
+down alive to the place which the Greeks call 
+Hades; there he played dice with Demeter, and 
+after both winning and losing he returned back with 
+a gift from her of a golden napkin. From this 
+descent of Rhampsinitus the Egyptians were said 
+by the priests to have kept a festival after his 
+return, which to my own knowledge they celebrate 
+to this day, but whether it be for that cause I cannot 
+say. Onthe day of this festival the priests weave 
+a cloth and bind it for a headgear on the eyes of 
+one among themselves, whom they then lead, 
+wearing the cloth, into a road that goes to the 
+temple of Demeter; they themselves return back, 
+but this priest with his eyes bandaged is guided 
+(say they) by two wolves! to Demeter's temple, a 
+distance of twenty furlongs from the city, and led 
+back again from the temple by the wolves to the 
+same place. 
+
+
+! Jackals appear on Egyptian monuments, symbolising 
+Anubis, the guide of the dead. 
+423 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+128. Τοῖσι μέν νυν ὑπ᾽ Αἰγυπτίων λεγομένοισι 
+χράσθω ὅτεῳ τὰ τοιαῦτα πιθανά ἐστι' ἐμοὶ δὲ 
+παρὰ πάντα τὸν λόγον ὑπόκειται ὅτι τὰ λεγόμενα 
+ὑπ᾽ ἑκάστων ἀκοῇ γράφω. ἀρχηγετέειν δὲ τῶν 
+κάτω Αἰγύπτιοι λέγουσι Δήμητρα καὶ Διόνυσον. 
+πρῶτοι δὲ καὶ τόνδε τὸν λόγον Αἰγύπτιοι εἰσὶ οἱ 
+εἰπόντες, ὡς ἀνθρώπου ψυχὴ ἀθάνατος ἐστί, τοῦ 
+σώματος δὲ καταφθίνοντος ἐς ἄλλο ζῷον aiel 
+γινόμενον ἐσδύεται, ἐπεὰν δὲ πάντα περιέλθῃ τὰ 
+χερσαῖα, καὶ τὰ θαλάσσια καὶ τὰ πετεινά, αὖτις 
+ἐς ἀνθρώπου σῶμα γινόμενον ἐσδύνει τὴν περιή- 
+λυσιν δὲ αὐτῇ γίνεσθαι ἐν τρισχιλίοισι ἔτεσι. 
+τούτῳ τῷ λόγῳ εἰσὶ οἳ Ἑλλήνων ἐχρήσαντο, οἳ 
+μὲν πρότερον oi δὲ ὕστερον, ὡς ἰδίῳ ἑωυτῶν ἐόντι" 
+τῶν ἐγὼ εἰδὼς τὰ οὐνόματα οὐ γράφω. 
+
+194. Μέχρι μέν vvv Ῥαμψινίτου βασιλέος εἶναι 
+ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ πᾶσαν εὐνομίην ἔλεγον καὶ εὐθηνέειν 
+Αἴγυπτον µεγάλως, μετὰ δὲ τοῦτον βασιλεύσαντα 
+σφέων Χέοπα ἐς πᾶσαν κακότητα ἐλάσαι. κατα- 
+κληίσαντα γάρ μιν πάντα τὰ ἱρὰ πρῶτα μὲν 
+σφέας θυσιέων τουτέων ἀπέρξαι, μετὰ δὲ ἐργά- 
+ζεσθαι ἑωυτῷ κελεύειν πάντας Αἰγυπτίους. τοῖσι 
+μὲν δὴ ἀποδεδέχθαι ἐκ τῶν λιθοτομιέων τῶν ἐν 
+τῷ ᾿Αραβίῳ ὄρεϊ, ἐκ τουτέων ἕλκειν λίθους μέχρι 
+τοῦ Νείλου: διαπεραιωθέντας δὲ τὸν ποταμὸν 
+πλοίοισι τοὺς λίθους ἑτέροισι ἐπέταξε ἐκδέκεσθαι 
+καὶ πρὸς τὸ Λιβυκὸν καλεύμενον ὄρος, πρὸς 
+τοῦτο ἕλκειν. ἐργάζοντο δὲ κατὰ δέκα μυριάδας 
+ἀνθρώπων aiel τὴν τρίμηνον ἑκάστην. χρόνον δὲ 
+ἐγγενέσθαι τριθομένῳ τῷ λεῷ δέκα ἔτεα μὲν τῆς 
+ὁδοῦ κατ᾽ ἣν εἶλκον τοὺς λίθους, τὴν ἔδειμαν ἔργον 
+ἐὸν οὐ πολλῷ τεῳ ἔλασσον τῆς πυραμίδος. ὡς ἐμοὶ 
+424 
+
+
+BOOK II, 125-124 
+
+
+128. These Egyptian stories are for the use of 
+whosoever believes such tales: for myself, it is my 
+rule throughout this history that I record whatever 
+is told me as I have heard it. 
+
+It is believed in Egypt that the rulers of the 
+lower world are Demeter and Dionysus! More- 
+over, the Egyptians were the first to teach that the 
+human soul is immortal, and at the death ofthe body 
+enters into some other living thing then coming to 
+birth; and after passing through all creatures of land, 
+sea, and air (which cycle it completes in three 
+thousand years) it enters once more into a human 
+body at birth. Some of the Greeks, early and 
+late, have used this doctrine as if it were their 
+own; I know their names, but do not here record 
+them. 
+
+124. Till the time of Rhampsinitus Egypt (so the 
+priests told me) was in all ways well governed and 
+greatly prospered, but Cheops, who was the next 
+king, brought the people to utter misery. For first 
+he shut up all the temples, so that none could sacrifice 
+there ; and next, he compelled all the Egyptians to 
+work for him, appointing to some to drag stones from 
+the quarries in the Arabian mountains to the Nile: 
+and the stones being carried across the river in boats, 
+others were charged to receive and drag them to the 
+mountains called Libyan. They worked in gangs 
+of a hundred thousand men, each gang for three 
+months. For ten years the people were afflicted in 
+making the road whereon the stones were dragged, 
+the making of which road was to my thinking a task 
+but a little lighter than the building of the pyramid,? 
+
+
+1 Isis and Osiris. 
+2 The “ Great Pyramid.” 
+
+
+425 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δοκέειν: τῆς μὲν γὰρ μῆκος εἰσὶ πέντε στάδιοι, 
+εὖρος δὲ δέκα ὀργυιαί, ὕψος δέ, τῇ ὑψηλοτάτη 
+ἐστὶ αὐτὴ ἑωυτῆς, ὀκτὼ ὀργυιαί, λίθου δὲ ξεστοῦ 
+καὶ ζῴων ἐγγεγλυμμένων᾽ ταύτης τε δὴ τὰ δέκα 
+ἔτεα γενέσθαι καὶ τῶν ἐπὶ τοῦ λόφου ἐπ᾿ οὗ 
+ἑστᾶσι αἱ πυραμίδες, τῶν ὑπὸ γῆν οἰκημάτων, τὰς 
+ἐποιέετο θήκας ἑωυτῷ ἐν νήσῳ, διώρυχα τοῦ 
+Νείλου ἐσαγαγών. τῇ δὲ πυραμίδι αὐτῇ χρόνον 
+γενέσθαι εἴκοσι ἔτεα ποιευμένῃ" τῆς ἐστὶ πανταχῇ 
+μέτωπον ἕκαστον ὀκτὼ, πλέθρα ἐ ἐούσης τετραγώνου 
+καὶ ὕψος ἴ ἴσον, λίθου δὲ ξεστοῦ τε καὶ ἁρμοσμένου 
+τὰ μάλιστα" οὐδεὶς τῶν λίθων τριήκοντα ποδῶν 
+ἐλάσσων. 
+
+195. ᾿Εποιήθη δὲ ὧδε αὕτη ἡ πυραμίς' ἀναβα- 
+θ μῶν τρόπον, τὰς μετεξέτεροι κρόσσας οἳ δὲ βω- 
+μίδας ὀνομάξουσι, τοιαύτην τὸ πρῶτον ἐπείτε 
+ἐποίησαν αὐτὴν, ἤειρον τοὺς ἐπιλοίπους λίθους 
+μηχανῇσι ξύλων βραχέων πεποιημένῃσι, χαμᾶ- 
+θεν μὲν ἐπὶ τὸν πρῶτον στοῖχον τῶν ἀναβαθμῶν 
+ἀείροντες' ὅκως δὲ ἀνίοι ὁ λίθος ἐπ᾽ αὐτόν, ἐς ἑτέ- 
+ρην μηχανὴν ἐτίθετο ἑστεῶσαν ἐπὶ τοῦ πρώτου 
+στοίχου, ἀπὸ τούτου δὲ ἐπὶ τὸν δεύτερον εἵλκετο 
+στοῖχον ἐπ᾽ ἄλλης μηχανῆς' ὅσοι γὰρ δὴ στοῖχοι 
+ἦσαν τῶν ἀναβαθ μῶν, τοσαῦται καὶ μηχαναὶ 
+
+/ 
+
+ἦσαν, εἴτε καὶ τὴν αὐτὴν μηχανὴν ἐοῦσαν μίαν 
+τε καὶ εὐβάστακτον μετεφόρεον ἐπὶ στοῖχον 
+ἕκαστον, ὅκως τὸν λίθον ἐξέλοιεν' λελέχθω γὰρ 
+ἡμῖν ἐπ᾽ ἀμφότερα, κατά περ λέγεται. ἐξεποιήθη 
+δ ὧν τὰ ἀνώτατα αὐτῆς πρῶτα, μετὰ δὲ τὰ 
+ἐχόμενα τούτων ἐξεποίευν, τελευταῖα δὲ αὐτῆς τὰ 
+ἐπίγαια καὶ τὰ κατωτάτω ἐξεποίησαν. σεσήμαν- 
+ται δὲ διὰ γραμμάτων Αἰγυπτίων ἐν τῇ πυρα- 
+
+
+416 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΙ. 124-125 
+
+
+for the road is five furlongs long and ten fathoms 
+broad, and raised at its highest to a height of eight 
+fathoms, and it is all of stone polished and carven with 
+figures. The ten years aforesaid went to the making of 
+this road and of the underground chambers on the hill 
+whereon the pyramids stand ; these the king meant 
+to be burial-places for himself, and encompassed them 
+with water, bringing in a channel from the Nile. 
+The pyramid itself was twenty years in the making. 
+Its base is square, each side eight hundred feet long, 
+and its height is the same; the whole is of stone 
+polished and most exactly fitted ; there is no block 
+of less than thirty feet in length. 
+
+125. This pyramid was made like a stairway with 
+tiers, or steps. When this, its first form, was com- 
+pleted,the workmen used levers made of short wooden 
+logs to raise the rest of the stones;! they heaved up 
+the blocks from the ground on to the first tier of steps; 
+when the stone had been so raised it was set on 
+another lever that stood on the first tier, and a lever 
+again drew it up from this tier to the next. It may be 
+that there was a new lever on each tier of the steps, 
+or perhaps there was but one lever, and that easily 
+lifted, which they carried up to each tier in turn, when 
+they had taken out the stone ; I leave this uncertain, 
+both ways being told me. But this is certain, that the 
+upper part of the pyramid was the first finished off, 
+then the next below it, and last of all the base and 
+the lowest part. There are writings on ? the pyramid 
+
+
+1 That is, the stones which were to fill up the angles of 
+the steps, and make the side of the pyramid a smooth in- 
+clined plane. The pyramids built by Cheops, Chephren, and 
+Mycerinus respectively are the pyramids of Gizeh, near 
+Cairo. 
+
+2 Or, “in.” 
+
+
+VOL.I. Q 427 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μίδι ὅσα ἔς τε συρµαίην καὶ κρόμμυα καὶ σκόροδα 
+ο. τοῖσι ἐργαξομένοισι' καὶ ὡς ἐμὲ εὖ 
+μεμνῆσθαι τὰ ὁ ἑρμηνεύς μοι ἐπιλεγόμενος τὰ 
+γράμματα ἔφη, ἑξακόσια καὶ χίλια τάλαντα 
+ἀργυρίου͵ τετελέσθαι. εἰ Ò ἔστι οὕτω ἔχοντα 
+ταῦτα, κόσα οἰκὸς ἄλλα δεδαπανῆσθαι ἐστὶ ἔς τε 
+σίδηρον τῷ ἐργάξοντο καὶ σιτία καὶ ἐσθῆτα τοῖσι 
+ἐργαζομένοισι, ὁκότε «χρόνον μὲν οἰκοδόμεον τὰ 
+ἔργα τὸν εἰρημένον, ἄλλον δέ, ὡς ἐγὼ δοκέω, ἐν 
+τῷ τοὺς λίθους ἔ ἔταμνον. καὶ ἦγον καὶ τὸ ὑπὸ γῆν 
+ὄρυγμα ἐργάξοντο, οὐκ ὀλίγον χρόνον. 
+
+126. Ες τοῦτο δὲ ἐλθεῖν Χέοπα κακότητος ὥστε 
+χρημάτων δεόμενον τὴν θυγατέρα τὴν ἑωυτοῦ 
+κατίσαντα ἐπ᾽ οἰκήματος προστάξαι πρήσσεσθαι 
+ἀργύριον ὁκόσον δή τι" οὐ γὰρ. δὴ τοῦτό γε ἔλεγον. 
+τὴν δὲ τά τε ὑπὸ τοῦ πατρὸς ταχθέντα πρήσ- 
+σεσθαι, idin δὲ καὶ αὐτὴν διανοηθῆναι μνημήιον 
+καταλιπέσθαι, καὶ τοῦ ἐσιόντος πρὸς αὐτὴν ἑκά- 
+στου δέεσθαι ὅκως ἂν αὐτῇ ἕνα λίθον ἐν τοῖσι 
+ἔργοισι δωρέοιτο. ἐκ τούτων δὲ τῶν λίθων ἔφασαν 
+τὴν. πυραμίδα. οἰκοδομηθῆναι τὴν ἐν μέσῳ τῶν 
+τριῶν ἑστηκυῖαν, ἔμπροσθε τῆς μεγάλης πυρα- 
+
+μίδος, τῆς ἐστὶ τὸ κῶλον ἕκαστον ὅλου καὶ 
+ἡμίσεος πλέθρου. 
+
+197. Βασιλεῦσαι δὲ τὸν Χέοπα τοῦτον At- 
+γύπτιοι ἔλεγον πεντήκοντα ἔτεα, τελευτήσαντος 
+δὲ τούτου ἐκδέξασθαι τὴν βασιληίην τὸν ἀδελφεὸν 
+αὐτοῦ Χεφρῆνα" καὶ τοῦτον δὲ τῷ αὐτῷ τρόπῳ 
+διαχρᾶσθαι τῷ ἑτέρῳ τά τε ἄλλα i καὶ πυραμίδα 
+ποιῆσαι, ἐς μὲν τὰ ἐκείνου μέτρα οὐκ ἀνήκουσαν' 
+ταῦτα yàp : Qv καὶ ἡμεῖς ἐμετρήσαμεν' (οὔτε γὰρ 
+ὕπεστι οἰκήματα ὑπὸ γῆν, οὔτε ἐκ τοῦ Νείλου 
+
+
+428 
+
+
+m 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΙ. 125—127 
+
+
+in Egyptian characters showing how much was spent 
+on purges and onions and garlic for the workmen ; 
+and so far as I well remember, the interpreter when 
+he read me the writing said that sixteen hundred 
+talents of silver had been paid. Now if thatis so, how 
+much must needs have been expended on the iron 
+with which they worked, and the workmen's food and 
+clothing? seeing that the time aforesaid was spent 
+in building, and the hewing and carrying of the stone 
+and the digging out of the underground parts was, 
+as I suppose, a business of long duration. 
+
+126. And so evil a man was Cheops that for lack 
+of money he made his own daughter to sit in a 
+chamber and exact payment (how much, I know not ; 
+for they did not tell me this). She, they say, doing 
+her father's bidding, was minded to leave some 
+memorial of her own, and demanded of everyone 
+who sought intercourse with her that he should give 
+one stone to set in her work ; and of these stones 
+was built the pyramid that stands midmost of the 
+three, over against the great pyramid ; each side of 
+it measures one hundred and fifty feet. 
+
+127. Cheops reigned (so the Egyptians said) for 
+fifty years; at his death he was succeeded by his 
+brother Chephren, who bore himself in all respects 
+like Cheops. Chephren also built a pyramid, of a less 
+size than his brother's. I have myself measured it. 
+It has no underground chambers, nor is it entered 
+
+
+429 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+διῶρυξ ἥκει ἐς αὐτὴν ὥσπερ és τὴν ἑτέρην ῥέουσα' 
+δι οἰκοδομημένου δὲ αὐλῶνος ἔσω νῆσον περιρρέει, 
+ἐν τῇ αὐτὸν λέγουσι κεῖσθαι Χέοπα)' ὑποδείμας 
+δὲ τὸν πρῶτον δόμον λίθου Λἰθιοπικοῦ ποικίλου, 
+τεσσεράκοντα πόδας ὑποβὰς τῆς ἑτέρης τὠυτὸ ué- 
+γαθος, ἐχομένην τῆς μεγάλης οἰκοδόμησε. ἑστᾶσι 
+δὲ ἐπὶ λόφου τοῦ αὐτοῦ ἀμφότεραι, μάλιστα ἐς 
+ἑκατὸν πόδας ὑψηλοῦ. βασιλεῦσαι δὲ ἔλεγον 
+Χεφρῆνα ἓξ καὶ πεντήκοντα ἔτεα. 
+
+198. Ταῦτα ἕξ τε καὶ ἑκατὸν λογίζονται ἔτεα, 
+ἐν τοῖσι Αἰγυπτίοισί τε πᾶσαν εἶναι κακότητα 
+καὶ τὰ ἱρὰ χρόνου τοσούτου κατακληισθέντα οὐκ 
+ἀνοιχθῆναι. τούτους ὑπὸ μίσεος οὐ κάρτα θέλουσι 
+Αἰγύπτιοι ὀνομάξειν, ἀλλὰ καὶ τὰς πυραμίδας 
+καλέουσι ποιμένος Φιλίτιος, ὃς τοῦτον τὸν χρόνον 
+ἔνεμε κτήνεα κατὰ ταῦτα τὰ χωρία. 
+
+129. Μετὰ δὲ τοῦτον βασιλεῦσαι Αἰγύπτου 
+Μυκερῖνον ἔλεγον Χέοπος παῖδα' τῷ τὰ μὲν τοῦ 
+πατρὸς ἔργα ἀπαδεῖν, τὸν δὲ τά τε ἱρὰ ἀνοῖξαι 
+καὶ τὸν λεὼν τετρυμένον ἐς τὸ ἔσχατον κακοῦ 
+ἀνεῖναι πρὸς ἔργα τε καὶ θυσίας, δίκας δέ σφι 
+πάντων βασιλέων δικαιότατα κρίνειν. κατὰ-τοῦτο 
+μέν νυν τὸ ἔργον ἁπάντων ὅσοι ἤδη βασιλέες 
+ἐγένοντο Αἰγυπτίων αἰνέουσι μάλιστα τοῦτον. τά 
+τε ἄλλα γάρ μιν κρίνειν εὖ, καὶ δὴ καὶ τῷ ἐπιμεμ- 
+φομένῳ ἐκ τῆς δίκης map ἑωυτοῦ διδόντα ἄλλα 
+ἀποπιμπλάναι αὐτοῦ τὸν θυμόν. ἐόντι δὲ ἠπίῳ τῷ 
+Μυκερίνῳ κατὰ τοὺς πολιήτας καὶ ταῦτα ἐπιτη- 
+δεύοντι πρῶτον κακῶν ἄρξαι τὴν θυγατέρα ἀπο- 
+θανοῦσαν αὐτοῦ, τὴν μοῦνόν οἱ εἶναι ἐν τοῖδι 
+οἰκίοισι τέκνον. τὸν δὲ ὑπεραλγήσαντά τε τῷ 
+
+
+430 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΙ. 127-129 
+
+
+like the other by a canal from the Nile, but the river 
+comes in through a built passage and encircles an 
+island, in which, they say, Cheops himself lies. This 
+pyramid was built of the same bigness as the other, 
+save that it falls forty feet short of it in height; it 
+stands near to the great pyramid; the lowest layer 
+of it is of variegated Ethiopian stone. Both of them 
+stand on the same ridge, which is about an hundred 
+feet high. Chephren, they said, reigned for fifty-six 
+ears. 
+
+ý 128. Thus they reckon that for a hundred and six 
+years Egypt was in great misery and the temples 
+so long shut were never opened. So much do the 
+people hate the memory of these two kings that 
+they do not greatly wish to name them, and call 
+the pyramids after the shepherd Philitis, who then 
+pastured his flocks in this place.! 
+
+129. The next king of Egypt, they said, was 
+
+
+Cheops’ son Mycerinus. He, being displeased with 
+
+
+his father’s doings, opened the temples and suffered 
+the people, now ground down to the depth of 
+misery, to go to their business and their sacrifices ; 
+and he was the justest judge among all the kings. 
+It is on this account that he is praised beyond all 
+the rulers of Egypt; for not only were his judg- 
+ments just, but if any were not contented with the 
+sentence Mycerinus would give such an one a 
+present out of his own estate to satisfy him for 
+his loss. Such was his practice, and so he ruled 
+his people with clemency, yet calamities befel him, 
+of which the first was the death of his daughter, 
+the only child of his household. Greatly grieving 
+
+! This is the form which Hdt. gives to the story of the 
+
+
+rule of the ‘‘shepherds” (Hyksos) in Lower Egypt, perhaps 
+from 2100 to 1600 5.6, 
+
+
+431 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+περιεπεπτώκεε πρήγματι, καὶ βουλόμενον περισ- 
+σότερόν τι τῶν ἄλλων θάψαι τὴν θυγατέρα, 
+ποιήσασθαι βοῦν ξυλίνην κοίλην, καὶ ἔπειτα 
+καταχρυσώσαντά μιν ταύτην ἔσω ἐν αὐτῇ θάψαι 
+ταύτην δὴ τὴν ἀποθανοῦσαν. θυγατέρα. 
+
+180. Αὕτη ὧν ἡ βοῦς Y? οὐκ ἐκρύφθη, ἀλλ᾽ ἔτι 
+καὶ ἐς ἐμὲ ἦν φανερή, ἐν Σάι μὲν TOM ἐοῦσα, 
+κειμένη δὲ ἐν τοῖσι βασιλήΐοισι ἐν οἰκήματι ἠσκη- 
+μένῳ" θυμιήματα δὲ παρ᾽ αὐτῇ παντοῖα κατα- 
+γίζουσι ἀνὰ πᾶσαν ἡμέρην, νύκτα δὲ ἑκάστην 
+πάννυχος λύχνος παρακαίεται. ἀγχοῦ. δὲ τῆς 
+βοὸς ταύτης ἐν ἄλλῳ οἰκήματι εἰκόνες τῶν παλ- 
+λακέων τῶν Μυκερίνου ἑστᾶσι, ὡς ἔλεγον οἱ ἐν 
+Lae πόλι ἱρέες" ἑστᾶσι μὲν γὰρ ξύλιναι κολοσσοί, 
+ἐοῦσαι ἀριθμὸν ὡς εἴκοσι μάλιστά κῃ, γυμναὶ 
+ἐργασμέναι' αἵτινες μέντοι εἰσί, οὐκ ἔχω εἰπεῖν 
+πλὴν ἢ τὰ λεγόμενα. 
+
+191. Οἳ δὲ τινὲς λέγουσι περὶ τῆς Boos ταύτης 
+καὶ τῶν κολοσσῶν τόνδε τὸν λόγον, ὡς Μυκερῖνος 
+ἠράσθη τῆς ἑωυτοῦ θυγατρὸς καὶ ἔπειτα ἐμίγη οἱ 
+ἀεκούσῃ᾽ μετὰ δὲ λέγουσι ὡς 5 παῖς ἀπήγξατο 
+ὑπὸ ἄχεος, ὃ δέ n ἔθαψε ἐν τῇ Boi ταύτῃ, ἡ δὲ 
+μήτηρ αὐτῆς τῶν ἀμφιπόλων τῶν προδουσέων 
+τὴν θυγατέρα τῷ πατρὶ ἀπέταμε τὰς χεῖρας, καὶ 
+νῦν τὰς εἰκόνας αὐτέων εἶναι πεπονθυίας τά περ 
+αἱ ζωαὶ ἔπαθον. ταῦτα δὲ λέγουσι «φλυηρέοντες, 
+ὡς ἐγὼ δοκέω, τά τε ἄλλα καὶ δὴ καὶ τὰ περὶ τὰς 
+χεῖρας τῶν κολοσσῶν: ταύτας γὰρ ὧν καὶ ἡμεῖς 
+ὡρῶμεν. ὅτι ὑπὸ χρόνου τὰς χεῖρας ἀποβεβλή- 
+κασι, αἳ ἐν ποσὶ αὐτέων ἐφαίνοντο ἐοῦσαι ἔτι καὶ 
+ἐς ἐμέ. 
+
+182. Ἡ δὲ βοῦς τὰ μὲν ἄλλα κατακέκρυπται 
+
+
+432 
+
+
+BOOK IL 129-132 
+
+
+over this misfortune, he desired to give her a burial 
+something more excellent than ordinary ; he made 
+therefore a hollow cow's image of gilded wood 
+and placed therein the body of his dead daughter. 
+130. This cow was not buried in the earth but 
+was to be seen even in my time, in the town of 
+
+
+` Sais, where it lay in an adorned chamber of the 
+
+
+palace; incense of all kinds is offered daily before 
+it, and a lamp burns by it all through every night. 
+There is another chamber near to this image, where 
+stand the statues of Mycerinus’ concubines, as the 
+priests of Sais told me; and indeed there are about 
+twenty colossal wooden figures there, made like 
+naked women, but I have only the priests’ word to 
+show who they are. 
+
+131. Some have a story about the cow and the 
+statues, how Mycerinus conceived a passion for his 
+own daughter and did her foul wrong, and she 
+strangled herself for grief: then he buried her, 
+they say, in this image of a cow; the girl’s mother 
+cut off the hands of the attendants who had betrayed 
+the daughter to her father, so that now (it is said) 
+their statues are in the plight to which the living 
+women were brought. But this I believe to be a 
+foolish tale, especially as respects the hands of the 
+figures. As we ourselves saw, it is time which has made 
+the hands to drop away ; they were to be seen even 
+in my day lying on the ground before the statues. 
+
+132. As for the cow, it is covered with a purple 
+
+
+433 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+φοινικέῳ εἵματι, τὸν αὐχένα δὲ καὶ τὴν κεφαλὴν 
+φαίνει κεχρυσωμένα παχέι κάρτα χρυσῷ' μεταξὺ 
+δὲ τῶν κερέων ὁ τοῦ ἡλίου κύκλος μεμιμημένος 
+ἔπεστι χρύσεος. ἔστι δὲ ἡ βοῦς οὐκ ὀρθὴ ἀλλ. 
+ἐν γούνασι κειμένη, μέγαθος δὲ ὅση περ μεγάλη 
+βοῦς ζωή. ἐκφέρεται δὲ ἐκ τοῦ οἰκήματος ἀνὰ 
+πάντα ἔτεα, ἐπεὰν τύπτωνται Αἰγύπτιοι τὸν οὐκ 
+ὀνομαζόμενον θεὸν à ὑπ᾽ ἐμεῦ ἐπὶ τοιούτῳ πρήγματι" 
+τότε ὧν καὶ τὴν βοῦν ἐκφέρουσι ἐς τὸ φῶς' φασὶ 
+γὰρ αὐτὴν δεηθῆναι τοῦ πατρὸς Μυκερίνου ἀπο- 
+θνήσκουσαν ἐν τῷ ἐνιαυτῷ ἅπαξ μιν τὸν ἥλιον 
+κατιδεῖν. 
+
+133. Μετὰ δὲ τῆς θυγατρὸς τὸ πάθος δεύτερα 
+τούτῳ τῷ βασιλέι τάδε γενέσθαι’ ἐλθεῖν οἱ 
+μαντήιον ἐκ Βουτοῦς πόλιος ὡς μέλλοι εξ ἔτεα 
+μοῦνον βιοὺς τῷ ἑβδόμῳ τελευτήσειν. τὸν δὲ 
+δεινὸν ποιησάμενον πέμψαι ἐς τὸ μαντήιον. τῷ 
+θεῷ ὀνείδισμα, ἀντιμεμφόμενον ὅτι ὁ μὲν αὐτοῦ 
+πατὴρ καὶ πάτρως, ἀποκληΐσαντες τὰ ἱρὰ καὶ 
+θεῶν οὐ μεμνημένοι ἀλλὰ καὶ τοὺς ἀνθρώπους 
+φθείροντες, ἐβίωσαν χρόνον ἐπὶ πολλόν, αὐτὸς 
+δ᾽ εὐσεβὴς ἐὼν μέλλοι, ταχέως οὕτω τελευτήσειν. 
+ἐκ δὲ τοῦ χρηστηρίου αὐτῷ δεύτερα ἐλθεῖν 
+λέγοντα τούτων εἵνεκα καὶ συνταχύνειν αὐτὸν 
+τὸν βίον: οὐ γὰρ ποιῆσαί μιν τὸ χρεὸν ἣν 
+ποιέειν δεῖν γὰρ. Αἴγυπτον κακοῦσθαι ἐπ᾿ ἔτεα 
+πεντήκοντά τε καὶ ἑκατόν, καὶ τοὺς μὲν δύο τοὺς 
+πρὸ ἐκείνου γενομένους βασιλέας μαθεῖν τοῦτο, 
+κεῖνον δὲ οὔ. ταῦτα ἀκούσαντα τὸν Μυκερῖνον, 
+ὡς κατακεκριμένων ἤδη οἱ τούτων, λύχνα ποιη- 
+σάµενον πολλά, ὅκως γίνοιτο νύξ, ἀνάψαντα 
+
+
+434 
+
+
+μυς ο πο μα s 
+
+
+-- p Ce Re ë “ 
+
+
+BOOK Il. 1 32-133 
+
+
+robe, and shows only the head and neck, which are 
+encrusted with a very thick layer of gold. Between 
+its horns it bears the golden figure of the sun's 
+orb. It does not stand, but kneels; its stature is 
+that of a live cow of great size. This image is 
+carried out of the chamber once in every year, 
+whenever the Egyptians make lamentation for the 
+god whom I name not in speaking of these matters ; it 
+is then that the cow is brought out into the light, 
+for Mycerinus' daughter, they say, entreated him at 
+her death that she might see the sun once a year.! 
+133. After the grievous death of his daughter, it 
+next happened to Mycerinus that an oracle was sent 
+to him from the city of Buto, declaring that he had 
+but six years to live and must die in the seventh. 
+The king deemed this unjust, and sent back to the 
+oracle a message of reproach, blaming the god: why 
+must he die so soon who was pious, whereas his 
+father and his uncle had lived long, who shut up the 
+temples, and regarded not the gods, and destroyed 
+men? But a second utterance from the place of 
+divination declared to him that his good deeds were 
+the very cause of shortening his life; for he had done 
+what was contrary to fate; Egypt should have been 
+afflicted for an hundred and fifty years, whereof the 
+two kings before him had been aware, but not 
+Mycerinus. Hearing this, he knew that his doom was 
+fixed. Therefore he caused many lamps to be made, 
+and would light these at nightfall and drink and make 
+
+
+1 The cow-worship is no doubt the cult of Isis, honoured 
+at Sais under the name Nit. 
+
+
+435 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+αὐτὰ πίνειν τα καὶ εὐπαθέειν, οὔτε ἡμέρης οὔτε 
+νυκτὸς ἀνιέντα, és τε τὰ ἕλεα καὶ τὰ ἄλσεα 
+πλανώμενον καὶ ἵνα πυνθάνοιτο εἶναι ἐνηβητήρια 
+ἐπιτηδεότατα. ταῦτα δὲ ἐμηχανᾶτο θέλων τὸ 
+μαντήιον ψευδόμενον ἀποδέξαι, iva οἱ δυώδεκα 
+ἔτεα ἀντὶ 8E ἐτέων γένηται, αἱ νύκτες ἡμέραι 
+ποιεύμεναι. 
+
+134. Πυραμίδα δὲ οὗτος ἀπελίπετο πολλὸν 
+ἐλάσσω τοῦ πατρός, εἴκοσι ποδῶν καταδέουσαν 
+κῶλον ἕκαστον τριῶν πλέθρων, ἐούσης τετρα- 
+γώνου, λίθου δὲ ἐς τὸ ἥμισυ Αἰθιοπικοῦ' τὴν δὴ 
+μετεξέτεροι φασὶ Ἑλλήνων Ῥοδώπιος ἑταίρης 
+γυναικὸς εἶναι, οὐκ ὀρθῶς λέγοντες. οὐδὲ ὦ ὧν οὐδὲ 
+εἰδότες μοι φαίνονται λέγειν οὗτοι ἥτις ἦν ἡ 
+Ῥοδῶπις: οὐ γὰρ ἄν οἱ πυραμίδα ἀνέθεσαν 
+ποιήσασθαι τοιαύτην, ἐς τὴν ταλάντων χιλιάδες 
+ἀναρίθμητοι & ὡς λόγῳ εἰπεῖν ἀναισίμωνται" πρὸς 
+δὲ ὅτι κατὰ "Αμασιν βασιλεύοντα ἦν ἀκμάξουσα 
+Ῥοδῶπις, ἀλλ᾽ οὐ κατὰ τοῦτον. ἔτεσι γὰρ κάρτα 
+πολλοῖσι ὕστερον τούτων τῶν βασιλέων τῶν τὰς 
+πυραμίδας ταύτας ἦν λιπομένων Ῥοδῶπις, γενεὴν 
+μὲν ἀπὸ Θρηίκης, δούλη δὲ ἦν ᾿Ιάδμονος τοῦ 
+Ἡφαιστοπόλιος ἀνδρὸς Σαμίου, σύνδουλος δὲ 
+Αἰσώπου. τοῦ λογοποιοῦ. καὶ yàp οὗτος Ἰάδμονος 
+ἐγένετο, ὡς διέδεξε τῇδε οὐκ ἥκιστα: ἐπείτε γὰρ 
+πολλάκις κηρυσσόντων Δελφῶν ἐκ θεοπροπίου ὃς 
+βούλοιτο ποινὴν τῆς Αἰσώπου ψυχῆς ἀνελέσθαι, 
+ἄλλος μὲν οὐδεὶς ἐφάνη, Ἰάδμονος δὲ παιδὸς παῖς 
+ἄλλος ᾿Ιάδμων ἀνείλετο. οὕτω καὶ Αἴσωπος 
+I dô ovos È ἐγένετο. 
+
+135. 'Ῥοδῶπις δὲ ἐς Αἴγυπτον ἀπίκετο Ἐάνθεω 
+τοῦ Σαμίου κομίσαντος, ἀπικομένη δὲ κατ᾽ ἐργασίην 
+
+
+436 
+
+
+Í e σπ ee w— — eel = c— - F αμα E C c-— 
+
+
+BOOK II. 133-135 
+
+
+merry; by day or night he never ceased from revel- 
+ling, roaming to the marsh country and the groves 
+and wherever he heard of the likeliest places of 
+pleasure. Thus he planned, that by turning night 
+into day he might make his six years into twelve 
+and so prove the oracle false. 
+
+134. This king too left a pyramid, but far smaller 
+than his father’s; its sides form a square whereof 
+each side is two hundred and eighty feet in length ; 
+as far as the half of its height it is of Ethiopian 
+stone. Some Greeks say that it was built by 
+Rhodopis, the courtesan, but they are in error; 
+indeed it is clear to me that when they say this 
+they do not know who Rhodopis was, else they 
+would never have credited her with the build- 
+ing of a pyramid whereon what I may call an 
+uncountable sum of talents must have been ex- 
+pended. And it is a further proof of their error 
+that Rhodopis flourished in the reign of Amasis, 
+not of Mycerinus, and thus very many years after 
+these kings who built the pyramids. She was a 
+Thracian by birth, slave to Iadmon, son of Hephaes- 
+topolis, a Samian, and fellow-slave of Aesopus the 
+story-writer. For he also was owned by Iadmon; of 
+which the chiefest proof is that when the Delphians, 
+obeying an oracle, issued many proclamations 
+inviting whosoever would to claim the penalty for 
+the killing of Aesopus, none would undertake it 
+but only another Jadmon, grandson of the first. 
+Thus was Aesopus too shown to be the slave of 
+Iadmon. 
+
+135. Rhodopis was brought to Egypt by Xanthes 
+of Samos, and on her coming was for a great sum of 
+
+
+457 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐλύθη χρημάτων μεγάλων ὑπὸ ἀνδρὸς Μυτιληναίου 
+Χαράξου τοῦ Σκαμανδρωνύμου παιδός, ἀδελφεοῦ 
+δὲ Σαπφοῦς τῆς μουσοποιοῦ. οὕτω δὴ ἡ Ῥοδῶπις 
+ἐλευθερώθη, καὶ κατέμεινέ τε ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ καὶ 
+κάρτα ἐπαφρόδιτος. γενομένη μεγάλα ἐκτήσατο 
+χρήματα ὡς ἂν εἶναι Ῥοδώπι, ἀτὰρ οὐκ ὥς γε 
+ἐς πυραμίδα τοιαύτην ἐξικέσθαι. τῆς γὰρ τὴν 
+δεκάτην τῶν χρημάτων ἰδέσθαι ἐστὶ ἔτι καὶ ἐς 
+τόδε παντὶ τῷ βουλομένῳ, οὐδὲν δεῖ μεγάλα οἱ 
+χρήματα ἀναθεῖναι. ἐπεθύμησε γὰρ “Ῥοδῶπις 
+μνημήιον ἑωυτῆς ἐν τῇ Ἑλλάδι καταλιπέσθαι, 
+ποίημα ποιησαμένη τοῦτο τὸ μὴ τυγχάνοι ἄλλῳ 
+ἐξευρημένον καὶ ὁ ἀνακείμενον è ἐν ἱ ἱρῷ, τοῦτο ἀναθεῖναι 
+ἐς | Δελφοὺς μνημόσυνον ἑωυτῆς. τῆς ὧν δεκάτης 
+τῶν χρημάτων ποιησαμένη ὀβελοὺς βουπόρους 
+πολλοὺς σιδηρέους, ὅσον ἐνεχώρεε 7 δεκάτη οἱ. 
+ἀπέπεμπε ἐς Δελφούς: οἳ καὶ νῦν ἔτι συννε- 
+νέαται ὄπισθε μὲν τοῦ βωμοῦ τὸν Χῖοι ἀνέθεσαν. 
+ἀντίον δὲ αὐτοῦ τοῦ νηοῦ. φιλέουσι δέ κως ἐν τῇ 
+Ναυκράτι ἐπαφρόδιτοι γίνεσθαι αἱ ἑταὶ ipai. τοῦτο 
+pv γὰρ αὕτη, τῆς πέρι λέγεται ὅδε ὁ ὁ λόγος, οὕτω 
+δή TL κλεινὴ ἐγένετο ὡς καὶ οἱ πάντες Ἕλληνες 
+Ῥοδώπιος τὸ .οὔνομα ἐξέμαθον" τοῦτο δὲ ὕστερον 
+ταύτης, τῇ οὔνομα, ἣν ᾿Αρχιδίκη, ἀοίδιμος ἆ ἀνὰ τὴν 
+Ἑλλάδα ἐγένετο, ἧσσον δὲ τῆς ἑτέρης περιλεσχή- 
+νευτος. Χάραξος δὲ ὡς λυσάμενος Ῥοδῶπιν ἀπε- 
+νόστησε ἐς Μυτιλήνην, ἐν μέλεϊ Σαπφὼ πολλὰ 
+κατεκερτόμησέ μιν. 
+136. 'Ῥοδώπιος μέν νυν πέρι πέπαυμαι. μετὰ 
+. Μυκερῖνον γενέσθαι Αἰγύπτου βασιλέα ἔλεγον 
+ἱρέες "Ασυχιν, τὸν τὰ πρὸς ἥλιον ἀνίσχοντα 
+medi τῷ Ἡφαίστῳ προπύλαια, ἐόντα πολλῷ 
+
+
+435 
+
+
+BOOK Il. 135-136 
+
+
+money freed for the practice of her calling by Charaxus 
+of Mytilene, son of Scamandronymus and brother of 
+Sappho the poetess. Thus Rhodopis was set free and 
+abode in Egypt, where, her charms becoming well 
+known, she grew wealthy enough for a lady of her 
+profession, but not for the building of such a pyramid. 
+_ Seeing that to this day anyone who wishes may know 
+what was the tenth part of her possessions, she cannot 
+be credited with greaf wealth. For Rhodopis desired 
+to leave a memorial of herself in Greece, by having 
+something made which no one else had contrived 
+and dedicated in a temple and presenting this at 
+Delphi to preserve her memory ; so she spent the 
+tenth part of her substance on the making of a great 
+number of iron ox-spits, as many as the tithe would 
+pay for, and sent them to Delphi; these lie in a heap 
+to this day, behind the altar set up by the Chians 
+and in front of the shrine itself. It seems that the 
+courtesans of Naucratis ever have the art of pleasing, 
+for the woman of whom this story is told became so 
+famous that all Greeks knew the name of Rhodopis, 
+and in later days one Archidice was the theme of 
+song throughout Greece, albeit less spoken of than 
+the other.  Charaxus, after giving Rhodopis her 
+freedom, returned to Mytilene and was bitterly 
+attacked by Sappho in one of her poems. 
+
+136. Enough has been said of Rhodopis. After 
+Mycerinus, said the priests, Asuchis became king of 
+Egypt. He built the eastern outer court of 
+Hephaestus’ temple ; this is by much the fairest and | 
+
+439 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τε κάλλιστα καὶ πολλῷ μέγιστα. ἔχει μὲν γὰρ 
+καὶ τὰ πάντα προπύλαια τύπους τε ἐγγεγλυμ- 
+μένους καὶ ἄλλην ὄψιν οἰκοδομημάτων μυρίην, 
+ἐκεῖνα δὲ καὶ μακρῷ μάλιστα. ἐπὶ τούτου βασι- 
+λεύοντος ἔλεγον, ἀμιξίης ἐούσης πολλῆς χρημάτων, 
+γενέσθαινόμον Αἰγυπτίοισι, ἀποδεικνύντα ἐνέχυρον 
+τοῦ πατρὸς τὸν νέκυν οὕτω λαμβάνειν τὸ χρέος" 
+προστεθῆναι δὲ ἔτι τούτῳ τῷ νόμῳ τόνδε, τὸν 
+διδόντα τὸ χρέος καὶ ἁπάσης κρατέειν τῆς τοῦ 
+λαμβάνοντος θήκης, τῷ δὲ ὑποτιθέντι τοῦτο τὸ 
+ἐνέχυρον τήνδε ἐπεῖναι ζημίην μὴ βουλομένῳ 
+ἀποδοῦναι τὸ χρέος, μήτε αὐτῷ ἐκείνῳ τελευτήσαντι 
+εἶναι ταφῆς κυρῆσαι μήτ᾽ ἐν ἐκείνῳ τῷ πατρωίῳ 
+
+΄ / 9 3 y ld 4 4 / 
+τάφῳ μήτ᾽ ἐν ἄλλῳ μηδενί, μήτε ἄλλον μηδένα 
+τῶν ἑωυτοῦ ἀπογενόμενον θάψαι. ὑπερβαλέσθαι 
+δὲ βουλόμενον τοῦτον τὸν βασιλέα τοὺς πρότερον 
+ἑωυτοῦ βασιλέας γενομένους Αἰγύπτου μνημόσυνον 
+πυραμίδα λιπέσθαι ἐκ πλίνθων ποιήσαντα, ἐν τῇ 
+γράμματα ἐν λίθῳ ἐγκεκολαμμένα τάδε λέγοντα 
+ἐστί. “Mý µε κατονοσθῇς πρὸς τὰς λιθίνας 
+πυραμίδας: προέχω γὰρ αὐτέων τοσοῦτον ὅσον 
+ὁ Ζεὺς τῶν ἄλλων θεῶν. κοντῷ γὰρ ὑποτύπτοντες 
+ἐς λίμνην, ὅ τι πρόσσχοιτο τοῦ πηλοῦ τῷ κοντῷῴ, 
+τοῦτο συλλέγοντες πλίνθους εἴρυσαν καί µε τρόπῳ 
+τοιούτῳ ἐξεποίησαν.᾽ 
+
+197. Τοῦτον μὲν τοσαῦτα ἀποδέξασθαι. μετὰ 
+δὲ τοῦτον βασιλεῦσαι ἄνδρα τυφλὸν ἐξ ᾿Ανύσιος 
+πόλιος, τῷ οὔνομα "Ανυσιν εἶναι. ἐπὶ τούτου 
+βασιλεύοντος ἐλάσαι ἐπ᾽ Αἴγυπτον χειρὶ πολλῇ 
+Αἰθίοπάς τε καὶ Σαβακῶν τὸν Αἰθιόπων βασιλέα. 
+τὸν μὲν δὴ τυφλὸν τοῦτον οἴχεσθαι φεύγοντα ἐς 
+γὰ ἕλεα, τὸν δὲ Αἰθίοπα βασιλεύειν Αἰγύπτου 
+
+
+440 
+
+
+BOOK Il. 536—137 
+
+
+largest of all the courts, for while all have carven 
+figures and innumerable graces of architecture, this 
+court has far more than any. In this king's reign 
+as they told me, money in Egypt passed not readily 
+from hand to hand ; wherefore a law was made that 
+a man might borrow on the security of his father's 
+dead body; and the law provided also, that the 
+lender should have a lien on the whole burial-vault of 
+the borrower, and that the penalty for the giver of 
+this security, should he fail to repay the debt, should 
+be that he might neither himself be buried at death 
+nor bury any deceased of his kin either in that tomb 
+of his fathers nor in any other. Moreover, being 
+desirous of excelling all who ruled Egypt before 
+him, this king left à pyramid of brick to commemo- 
+rate his name, on which is this writing, cut on a 
+stone :—* Deem me not less than the pyramids of 
+stone; for I am as much more excellent than they 
+as Zeus is than the other gods ; for they struck a 
+pole down into a marsh and collected what mud 
+clave to the pole; therewith they made bricks, and 
+thus was I built." | 
+
+137. These were the acts of Asuchis. After him 
+reigned a blind man called Anysis, of the town of 
+that name. In his reign Egypt was invaded by 
+Sabacos king of Ethiopia and a great army of Ethio- 
+pians.! The blind man fleeing away into the marshes, 
+the Ethiopians ruled Egypt for fifty years. It is 
+
+
+! In Manetho's list three Ethiopian kings form the twenty- 
+fifth dynasty, Sabacon, Sebichos, and Taracos (the Tirhaka 
+of the Old Testament). 441 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐπ᾽ ἔτεα πεντήκοντα, ἐν τοῖσι αὐτὸν τάδε ἀπο- 
+δέξασθαι: ὅκως τῶν τις Αἰγυπτίων ἁμάρτοι τι, 
+κτείνειν μὲν αὐτῶν οὐδένα ἐθέλειν, τὸν δὲ κατὰ 
+μέγαθος τοῦ ἀδικήματος ἑκάστῳ δικάξειν ἐπιτάσ- 
+σοντα χώματα χοῦν πρὸς τῇ ἑωυτῶν πόλι, ὅθεν 
+ἕκαστος ἦν τῶν ἀδικεόντων. καὶ οὕτω ἔτι αἱ 
+πόλιες ἐγένοντο ὑψηλότεραι: τὸ μὲν γὰρ πρῶτον 
+ἐχώσθησαν ὑπὸ τῶν τὰς διώρυχας ὀρυξάντων ἐπὶ 
+Σεσώστριος βασιλέος, δεύτερα δὲ ἐπὶ τοῦ Αἰθίοπος 
+καὶ κάρτα ὑψηλαὶ ἐγένοντο. ὑψηλέων δὲ καὶ 
+ἑτερέων γενομενέων ἐν τῇ Αἰγύπτῳ πολίων, ὡς 
+ἐμοὶ δοκέει, μάλιστα ἡ ἐν Βουβάστιπόλις ἐξεχώσθη, 
+ἐν τῇ καὶ ἱρόν ἐστι Βουβάστιος ἀξιαπηγητότατον" 
+μέξω μὲν γὰρ ἄλλα καὶ πολυδαπανώτερα ἐστὶ 
+ἱρά, ἡδονὴ δὲ ἰδέσθαι οὐδὲν τούτου μᾶλλον. ἡ δὲ 
+Βούβαστις κατὰ Ἑλλάδα γλῶσσαν ἐστὶ Αρτεμις. 
+
+138. Τὸ & ἱρὸν αὐτῆς ὧδε ἔχει. πλὴν τῆς 
+ἐσόδου τὸ ἄλλο νῆσος ἐστί: ἐκ γὰρ τοῦ Νείλου 
+διώρυχες ἐσέχουσι οὐ συμμίσγουσαι ἀλλήλῃσι, 
+ἀλλ. ἄχρι τῆς ἐσόδου τοῦ ἱροῦ ἑκατέρη ἐσέχει, 
+ἣ μὲν τῇ περιρρέουσα ἣ δὲ τῇ, εὗρος ἐοῦσα 
+ἑκατέρη ἑκατὸν ποδῶν, δένδρεσι κατάσκιος. τὰ 
+δὲ προπύλαια ὕψος μὲν δέκα ὀργυιέων ἐστί, 
+τύποισι δὲ ἑξαπήχεσι ἐσκευάδαται ἀξίοισι λόγου. 
+ἐὸν δ᾽ ἐν μέσῃ τῇ πόλι τὸ ἱρὸν κατορᾶται πάντο- 
+θεν περιιόντι: ἅτε γὰρ τῆς πόλιος μὲν ἐκκεχω- 
+σμένης ὑψοῦ, τοῦ δ᾽ ἱροῦ οὐ κεκινημένου ὡς 
+ἀρχῆθεν. ἐποιήθη, ἔσοπτον ἐστί. περϑϑέε, δὲ 
+αὐτὸ αἱμασιὴ ἐγγεγλυμμένη τύποισι, ἔστι δὲ 
+ἔσωθεν ἄλσος δενδρέων μεγίστων πεφυτευμένον 
+περὶ νηὸν μέγαν, ἐν τῷ δὴ τῶγαλμα ἔνι: εὗρος 
+è καὶ μῆκος τοῦ ἱροῦ πάντη σταδίου ἐστί. κατὰ 
+
+
+443 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΙ. 137-138 
+
+
+recorded in the history of his reign that he would 
+never put to death any Egyptian wrongdoer, but 
+sentenced all, according. to the greatness of their 
+offence, to raise embankments in.the town of which 
+each was a native. Thus the towns came to stand 
+yet higher than before; for having been first built on 
+embankments made by the diggers of the canals in 
+the reign of Sesostris, they were yet further raised 
+in the reign of the Ethiopian. Other Egyptian towns, 
+to my thinking, were so dealt with, but the level 
+of Bubastis was raised more than any. In this town 
+there is a temple of Bubastis, and it is a building 
+most worthy of note. Other temples are greater 
+and more costly, but none pleasanter to the eye than 
+
+this. Bubastis is, in the Greek language, Artemis. 
+138. I will now show the form of her temple: 
+save for the entrance, it stands on an island ; two 
+separate channels approach it from the Nile, and 
+after coming up to the entry of the temple, they run 
+round it on opposite sides; each of them is an hundred 
+feet wide, and overshadowed by trees. The outer 
+court has a height of ten fathoms, and is adorned with 
+notable figures six cubits high. The temple is in the 
+midst of the city, the whole circuit of which commands 
+a view down into it; for the city's level has been 
+raised, but that of the temple has been left as it was 
+from the first, so that it can be seen into from with- 
+out. A stone wall, carven with figures, runs round 
+it; within is a grove of very tall trees growing round 
+a great shrine, wherein is the image of the goddess; 
+the temple is a square, each side measuring a furlong. 
+443 
+
+
+lt» 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μὲν δὴ τὴν ἔσοδον ἐστρωμένη ἐστὶ ὁδὸς λίθου ἐπὶ 
+σταδίους τρεῖς μάλιστά Kr, διὰ τῆς ἀγορῆς: φέ- 
+ρουσα ἐς τὸ πρὸς ἠῶ, εὖρος δὲ ὡς τεσσέρων 
+πλέθρων: τῇ δὲ καὶ τῇ τῆς ὁδοῦ δένδρεα οὐρανο- 
+μήκεα πέφυκε" φέρει δὲ ἐς Ἑρμέω ἱρόν. τὸ μὲν 
+δὴ ἱρὸν τοῦτο οὕτω ἔχει. 
+
+139, Τέλος δὲ τῆς ἀπαλλαγῆς τοῦ Αἰθίοπος 
+ὧδε ἔλεγον. γενέσθαι ὄψιν ἐν τῷ ὕπνῳ τοιήνδε 
+ὀδόντα. αὐτὸν οἴχεσθαι φεύγοντα" ἐδόκέε οἱ ἄνδρα 
+ἐπιστάντα συμβουλεύειν τοὺς ἱρέας τοὺς ἐν Αἱ- 
+γύπτῳ συλλέξαντα πάντας μέσους διαταμεῖν. 
+ἰδόντα δὲ τὴν ὄψιν ταύτην. λέγειν αὐτὸν ὡς πρό- 
+φασίν οἱ δοκέοι ταύτην τοὺς θεοὺς προδεικνύναι, 
+ἵνα ἀσεβήσας περὶ τὰ ἱρὰ κακὀν τι πρὸς θεῶν 
+ἢ πρὸς ἀνθρώπων λάβοι" οὔκων ποιήσειν ταῦτα, 
+ἀλλὰ γάρ οἱ ἐξεληλυθέναι τὸν χρόνον, ὁκόσον 
+κεχρῆσθαι ἄρξαντα, Αἰγύπτου ἐκχωρήσειν. ἐν 
+γὰρ τῇ Αἰθιοπίῃ ἐόντι αὐτῷ τὰ µαντήια, τοῖσι 
+χρέωνται Αἰθίοπες, ἀνεῖλε ὡς ᾿δέοι αὐτὸν Αἰγύπτου 
+βασιλεῦσαι ἔτεα πεντήκοντα. ὡς ὧν ὁ χρόνος 
+
+
+| οὗτος ἐξήιε καὶ αὐτὸν ἡ ὄψις. τοῦ ἐνυπνίου ἐπε- 
+
+
+τάρασσε, ἑκὼν ἀπαλλάσσετο ἐκ τῆς Αἰγύπτου ὁ 
+Σαβακῶς. 
+
+140. Ὡς δ᾽ dpa οἴχεσθαι, τὸν Αἰθίοπα ἐξ Αἱ- 
+γύπτου, αὖτις τὸν τυφλὸν ἄρχειν ἐκ τῶν ἑλέων 
+ἀπικόμενον, ἔνθα πεντήκοντα ἔτεα νῆσον χώσας 
+σποδῷ τε καὶ yf) οἴκεε. ὅκως γάρ οἱ φοιτᾶν σίτον 
+ἄγοντας Αἰγυπτίων, ὡς ἑκάστοισι προστετάχθαι, 
+σιγῇ τοῦ Αἰθίοπος, ἐς τὴν δωρεὴν κελεύειν σφέας 
+καὶ σποδὸν κομίξειν. ταύτην τὴν νῆσον οὐδεὶς 
+πρότερον ἐδυνάσθη. ᾽Αμυρταίου ἐξευρεῖν, ἀλλὰ 
+ἔτεα ἐπὶ πλέω ἢ ἑπτακόσια οὐκ οἷοί τε ἦσαν 
+
+
+444 
+
+
+BOOK II. 138-140 
+
+
+A road, paved with stone, of about three furlongs’ 
+length leads to the entrance, running eastward 
+through the market place, towards the temple of 
+Hermes; this road is about four hundred feet wide, 
+and bordered by trees reaching to heaven. Such is 
+this temple. | 
+
+139. Now the departure of the Ethiopian (they 
+said) was accomplished on this wise. He fled away 
+from the country, having seen in a dream one who 
+stood over him and counselled him to gather together 
+all the priests in Egypt and cut them in sunder. 
+Having seen this vision, he said that he supposed it 
+to be a manifestation sent to him by the gods, that 
+he might commit sacrilege and so be punished by 
+gods or men; he would not (he said) act so, but 
+otherwise, for the time foretold for his rule over 
+Egypt, after which he was to depart, was now 
+fulfilled : for when he was still in Ethiopia the oracles 
+which are inquired of by the people of that country 
+declared to him that he was fated to reign fifty years 
+over Egypt. Seeing that this time was now completed 
+and that he was troubled by what he saw in his 
+dream, Sabacos departed from Egypt of his own 
+accord. 
+
+140. The Ethiopian having left Egypt, the blind 
+man (it is said) was king once more, returning from the 
+marshes, where he had dwelt fifty years on an island 
+which he built of ashes and earth; for the Egyptians, 
+who were severally charged to bring him food without 
+the Ethiopian's knowledge, were bidden by the king 
+to bring ashes whenever they came, as their gift. 
+This island was never discovered before the time of 
+Amyrtaeus ; all the kings before him sought it in vain 
+
+
+445 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+αὐτὴν ἀνευρεῖν οἱ πρότεροι γενόμενοι βασιλέες 
+᾽Αμυρταίου. οὔνομα δὲ ταύτῃ τῇ νήσῳ ᾿Ελβώ, 
+µέγαθος Ò ἐστὶ πάντῃ δέκα σταδίων. 
+
+141. Μετὰ δὲ τοῦτον βασιλεῦσαι τὸν ἱρέα τοῦ 
+᾿Ἠφαίστου, τῷ οὔνομα εἶναι Σεθῶν' τὸν ἐν ἆλο- 
+yit. ἔχειν παραχρησάµενον τῶν ND OL Αὐ- 
+γυπτίων ὡς οὐδὲν δεησόμενον αὐτῶν, ἄλλα τε δὴ 
+ἄτιμα ποιεῦντα ἐς αὐτούς, καί σφεας ἀπελέσθαι 
+τὰς ἀρούρας" τοῖσι ἐπὶ τῶν προτέρων βασιλέων 
+δεδόσθαι ἐξαιρέτους ἑκάστω δυώδεκα ἀρούρας. 
+μετὰ δὲ ἐπ᾽ Αἴγυπτον ἐλαύνειν στρατὸν μέγαν 
+Σαναχάριβον βασιλέα Ἀραβίων τε καὶ ᾿Ασσυ- 
+ρίων" οὔκων δὴ ἐθέλειν τοὺς μαχίμους τῶν 
+Αἰγυπτίων βοηθέειν. τὸν ὃ ἱρέα ἐς ἀπορίην 
+ἀπειλημένον ἐσελθόντα ἐς τὸ μέγαρον πρὸς TO- 
+γαλμα ἀποδύρεσθαι οἷα κινδυνεύει παθεῖν. ὀλο- 
+φυρόμενον δ᾽ ἄρα μιν ἐπελθεῖν ἱ ὕπνον, καί οἱ δόξαι 
+ἐν τῇ ὄψι ἐπιστάντα τὸν θεὸν θαρσύνειν ὡς οὐδὲν 
+πείσεται ἄχαρι ἀντιάζων τὸν ᾿Αραβίων στρατόν: 
+αὐτὸς γάρ οἱ πέμψειν τιμωρούς. τούτοισι δή μιν 
+πίσυνον τοῖσι ἐνυπνίοισι, παραλαβόντα Αἰγυπτίων 
+τοὺς βουλομένους οἱ ἕπεσθαι, στρατοπεδεύσασθαι 
+ἐν Πηλουσίῳ" ταύτῃ γὰρ εἰσὶ αἱ éco BoXai ἕπε- 
+σθαι δέ οἱ τῶν μαχίμων μὲν οὐδένα ἀνδρῶν, καπή- 
+λους δὲ καὶ χειρώνακτας καὶ ἀγοραίους ἀνθρώπους. 
+ἐνθαῦτα ἀπικομένοισι + τοῖσι ἐναντίοισι αὐτοῖσι 
+ἐπιχυθέντας νυκτὸς μῦς ἀρουραίους κατὰ μὲν 
+φαγεῖν τοὺς φαρετρεῶνας αὐτῶν κατὰ δὲ τὰ τόξα, 
+πρὸς δὲ τῶν ἀσπίδων τὰ ὄχανα, ὥστε τῇ ὑστεραίῃ 
+
+
+! Stein reads ἀπικομένου:, and supposes a lacuna after 
+ἐναντίοισι} ἀπικομένοισι has the best authority. 
+
+
+440 
+
+
+BOOK Il. 140-141 
+
+
+for more than seven hundred years. The name of it 
+is Elbo, and it is ten furlongs long and of an equal 
+breadth. 
+
+141. The next king was the priest of Hephaestus, 
+whose name was Sethos. He despised and took no 
+account of the warrior Egyptians, thinking he would 
+never need them; besides otherwise dishonour- 
+ing them, he took away the chosen lands which 
+had been given to them, twelve fields to each 
+man, in the reign of former kings. So presently 
+came king Sanacharib! against Egypt, with a great 
+host of Arabians and Assyrians; and the warrior 
+Egyptians would not march against him. The priest, 
+in this quandary, went into the temple shrine and 
+there bewailed to the god’s image the peril which 
+threatened him. In his lamentation he fell asleep, 
+and dreamt that he saw the god standing over him 
+and bidding him take courage, for he should suffer 
+no ill by encountering the host of Arabia: * Myself," 
+said the god, * will send you champions." So he 
+trusted the vision, and encamped at Pelusium with 
+such Egyptians as would follow him, for here is the 
+road into Egypt; and none of the warriors would go 
+with him, but only hucksters and artificers and 
+traders. Their enemies too came thither, and one 
+night a multitude of fieldmice? swarmed over the 
+Assyrian camp and devoured their quivers and their 
+bows and the handles of their shields likewise, inso- 
+
+! Sennacherib's attack on Hezekiah of Judaea was made 
+on his march to Egypt.—II Kings, xviii. " 
+
+2 This is Hdt.’s version of the Jewish story of the pest- 
+ilence which destroyed the Assyrian army before Jerusalem. 
+Mice are a Greek symbol of pestilence ; it is Apollo Smintheus 
+(the mouse god) who sends and then stays the plague in 
+
+
+Homer, ΙΙ. i. It has long been known that rats are carriers 
+of the plague. 
+
+
+447 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+φευγόντων σφέων γυμνῶν πεσεῖν πολλούς. καὶ 
+νῦν οὗτος ὁ βασιλεὺς ἕστηκε ἐν τῷ ἱρῷ τοῦ Ἡ φαί- 
+στου λίθινος, ἔχων ἐπὶ τῆς χειρὸς μῦν, λέγων 
+διὰ γραμμάτων τάδε" “' Ἐς ἐμέ τις ὁρέων εὐσεβὴς 
+Ld 
+
+ἔστω." 
+
+142, "Es μὲν τοσόνδε τοῦ λόγου Αἰγύπτιοί τε 
+καὶ οἱ ipées ἔλεγον, ἀποδεικνύντες d ἀπὸ τοῦ πρώτου 
+βασιλέος ἐς τοῦ Ἡφαίστου τὸν ἱρέα τοῦτον τὸν 
+τελευταῖον βασιλεύσαντα μίαν τε καὶ τεσσερά- 
+κοντα καὶ τριηκοσίας γενεὰς ἀνθρώπων γενομένας, 
+καὶ ἐν ταύτῃσι ἀρχιερέας καὶ βασιλέας ἑ ἑκατέρους 
+τοσούτους γενομένους. καίτοι τριηκόσιαι μὲν 
+ἀνδρῶν γενεαὶ δυνέαται μύρια ἔτεα' γενεαὶ γὰρ 
+τρεῖς ἀνδρῶν ἑκατὸν ἔτεα ἐστί: μιῆς δὲ καὶ τεσ- 
+σεράκοντα ἔτι τῶν ἐπιλοίπων γενεέων, αἳ ἐπῆσαν 
+τῇσι τριηκοσίῃσι, ἐσ ἐστὶ τεσσεράκοντα καὶ τριηκόσια 
+καὶ χίλια έτεα. οὕτω, ἐν μυρίοισί τε ἔτεσι καὶ χι- 
+λίοισι καὶ τριηκοσίοισί τε καὶ τεσσεράκοντα ἔλεγον 
+θεὸν ἀνθρωποειδέα οὐδένα γενέσθαι: οὐ μέντοι 
+οὐδὲ πρότερον οὐδὲ ὕστερον ἐν τοῖσι ὑπολοίποισι 
+Αἰγύπτου βασιλεῦσι γενομένοισι ἔλεγον οὐδὲν 
+τοιοῦτο. ἐν τοίνυν τούτῳ τῷ χρόνῳ τετράκις 
+ἔλεγον ἐξ ἠθέων τὸν ἥλιον ἀνατεῖλαι: ἔνθα τε νῦν 
+καταδύεται, ἐνθεῦτεν δὶς ἐπαντεῖλαι, καὶ ἔνθεν 
+νῦν ἀνατέλλει, ἐνθαῦτα δὶς καταδῦναι. καὶ οὐδὲν 
+τῶν κατ᾽ Αἴγυπτον ὑπὸ ταῦτα ἑτεροιωθῆναι, οὔτε 
+τὰ ἐκ τῆς γῆς οὔτε τὰ ἐκ τοῦ ποταμοῦ σφι 
+γινόμενα, οὔτε τὰ ἀμφὶ νούσους οὔτε τὰ κατὰ 
+τοὺς θανάτους. 
+
+148. Πρότερον δὲ Ἑκαταίῳ τῷ λογοποιῷ ἐν 
+Θήβησι γενεηλογήσαντί τε ἑωυτὸν καὶ ἀναδή- 
+σαντι τὴν πατριὴν ἐς ἑκκαιδέκατον θεὸν ἐποίησαν 
+
+
+448 
+
+
+BOOK II 141-143 
+
+
+much that they fled the next day unarmed and many 
+fell. And at this day a stone statue of the Egyptian 
+king stands in Hephaestus’ temple, with a mouse in 
+his hand, and an inscription to this effect: “ Look on 
+me, and fear the gods." 
+
+142. Thus far went the record given me by the 
+Egyptians and their priests; and they showed me 
+that the time from the first king to that priest of 
+Hephaestus, who was the last, covered three hundred 
+and forty-one generations of men, and that in this 
+time such also had been the number of their kings, 
+and of their high priests. Now three hundred 
+generations make up ten thousand years, three 
+generations being equal to a century. And over and 
+above the three hundred the remaining forty-one 
+cover thirteen hundred and forty years. Thus the 
+whole sum is eleven thousand three hundred and 
+forty years; in all which time (they said) they had 
+had no king who was a god in human form, nor had 
+there been any such thing either before or after 
+those years among the rest of the kings of Egypt. 
+Four times in this period (so they told me) the sun 
+rose contrary to his wont; twice he rose where he 
+now sets, and twice he set where now he rises; yet 
+Egypt at these times underwent no change, neither 
+in the produce of the river and the land, nor in the 
+matter of sickness and death. 
+
+143. Hecataeus! the historian was once at Thebes, 
+where he made for himself a genealogy which 
+connected him by lineage with a god in the sixteenth 
+
+1 Hecataeus died soon after the Persian war. 
+
+
+449 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οἱ ἱρέες τοῦ Διὸς οἷόν τι καὶ ἐμοὶ οὐ γενεηλθγή- 
+σαντι ἐμεωντόν' ἐσαγαγύντες ἐς τὸ μέγαρον ἔσω 
+ἐὸν μέγα ἐξηρίθμεον δεικνύντες κολοσσοὺς ξυλίνους 
+τοσούτους ὅσους περ εἶπον: ἀρχιερεὺς γὰρ ἕκα- 
+στος αὐτόθι ἱστᾷ ἐπὶ τῆς ἑωυτοῦ Cons εἰκόνα 
+ἑωυτοῦ" ἀριθμέοντες ὧν καὶ δεικνύντες οἱ ἱρέες 
+ἐμοὶ ἀπεδείκνυσαν παῖδα πατρὸς ἑωυτῶν ἕκαστον 
+ἐόντα, ἐκ τοῦ ἄγχιστα ἀποθανόντος τῆς εἰκόνος 
+διεξιόντες διὰ πατέων, ἕως οὗ ἀπέδεξαν ἁπάσας 
+αὐτάς. Ἑκαταίῳ δὲ γενεηλογήσαντι ἑωυτὸν καὶ 
+ἀναδήσαντι ἐς ἑκκαιδέκατον θεὸν ἀντεγενεηλό- 
+γήσαν ἐπὶ τῇ ἀριθμήσι, οὐ δεκόμενοι παρ᾽ αὐτοῦ 
+ἀπὸ θεοῦ γενέσθαι ἄνθρωπον' ἀντεγενεηλόγησαν 
+δὲ ὦδε, φάμενοι ἕκαστον τῶν κολοσσῶν πίρωμιν 
+ἐκ πιρώμιος γεγονέναι, ἐς ὃ τοὺς πέντε καὶ τεσ- 
+σεράκοντα καὶ τριηκοσίους ἀπέδεξαν. κολοσσούς 
+[πίρωμιν ἐπονομαξόμενον), ! καὶ οὔτε ἐς θεὸν οὔτε 
+ἐς ἥρωα ἀνέδησαν αὐτούς. πίρωμις δὲ ἐστὶ κατὰ 
+Ἑλλάδα γλῶσσαν καλὸς κἀγαθός. 
+
+144. Ἤδη ὧν τῶν αἱ εἰκόνες ἦσαν, τοιούτους 
+ἀπεδείκνυσαν σφέας πάντας ἐόντας, θεῶν δὲ 
+πολλὸν ἀπαλλαγμένους. τὸ δὲ πρότερον τῶν 
+ἀνδρῶν τούτων eov. εἶναι τοὺς ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ 
+ἄρχοντας, οὐκ ἐόντας ἅμα τοῖσι ἀνθρώποισι, καὶ 
+τούτων αἰεὶ ἕνα τὸν κρατέοντα εἶναι" ὕστατον δὲ 
+αὐτῆς βασιλεῦσαι Ὥρον τὸν ᾿Οσίριος παῖδα, τὸν 
+᾿Απόλλωνα “Ἕλληνες ὀνομάξουσι" τοῦτον κατα- 
+παύσαντα Tuga ava βασιλεῦσαι Ü ὕστατον Αἰγύπτου. 
+
+Ὄσιρις δὲ ἐστὶ Διόνυσος κατὰ Ελλάδα γλῶσσαν. 
+
+
+1 Whether we read ἐπονομαζόμενον (with Stein) or πίρωμιν 
+ἐκ πιρώμιος γενόµενυν (with the MSS.) the words do not accord 
+with the construction of the sentence. 
+
+
+450 
+
+
+BOOK Il. 143-144 
+
+
+generation. But the priests did for him what they 
+did for me (who had not traced my own lineage). 
+They brought me into the great inner court of the 
+temple and showed me there wooden figures which 
+they counted up to the number they had already 
+given, for every high priest sets there in his life- 
+time a statue of bimself; counting and pointing 
+to these, the priests showed me that each inherited 
+from his father; they went through the whole 
+tale of figures, back to the earliest from that of 
+him who had lateliest died. Thus when Hecataeus 
+had traced his descent and claimed that his six- 
+teenth forefather was a god, the priests too traced 
+a line of descent according to the method of their 
+counting; for they would not be persuaded by him 
+that a man could be descended from a god; they 
+traced descent through the whole line of three 
+hundred and forty-five figures, not connecting it 
+with any ancestral god or hero, but declaring each 
+figure to be a “ Piromis" the son of a ** Piromis," 
+that is, in the Greek language, one who is in all 
+respects a good man. 
+
+144. Thus they showed that all whose statues 
+.vood there had been good men, but wholly unlike 
+gods. Before these men, they said, the rulers of 
+Egypt were gods, but none had been contemporary 
+with the human priests. Of these gods one or other 
+had in succession been supreme; the last of them 
+to rule the country was Osiris son Horus, called by 
+the Greeks Apollo; he deposed Typhon,! and was 
+the last divine king of Egypt. Osiris is, in the 
+Greek language, Dionysus. 
+
+
+1 Typhon is the Egyptian Set, the god of destruction. 
+451 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+145. ᾿Εν "Ἕλλησι μέν νυν νεώτατοι τῶν θεῶν 
+νομίζονται εἶναι Ἡρακλέης τε καὶ Διόνυσος καὶ 
+Πάν, παρ᾽ Αἰγυπτίοισι δὲ Πὰν μὲν ἀρχαιότατος 
+καὶ τῶν ὀκτὼ τῶν πρώτων λεγομένων θεῶν, 'Hpa- 
+κλέης δὲ τῶν δευτέρων τῶν δυώδεκα λεγομένων 
+εἶναι, Διόνυσος δὲ τῶν τρίτων, οἳ ἐκ τῶν δυώδεκα 
+θεῶν ἐγένοντο. Ἡρακλέι μὲν δὴ ὅσα αὐτοὶ Al- 
+γύπτιοι φασὶ εἶναι ἔτεα ἐς "Άμασιν βασιλέα, 
+δεδήλωταί μοι πρόσθε: Πανὶ δὲ ἔτι τούτων πλέονα 
+λέγεται εἶναι, Διονύσῳ δ᾽ ἐλάχιστα τούτων, καὶ 
+τούτῳ πεντακισχίλια καὶ μύρια λογίζονται εἶναι 
+ἐς “Apacw βασιλέα. καὶ ταῦτα Αιγύπτιοι ἀτρε- 
+κέως φασὶ. ἐπίστασθαι, αἰεί τε Ἀογιξόμενοι καὶ 
+αἰεὶ ἀπογραφόμενοι τὰ ἔτεα. Διονύσῳ μέν νυν τῷ 
+ἐκ Σεμέλης. τῆς Κάδμου λεγομένῳ γενέσθαι κατὰ 
+ἑξακόσια ἔτεα καὶ χίλια μάλιστα ἐστὶ ἐς .ἐμέ, 
+"Βρακλέι δὲ τῷ ᾿Αλκμήνης κατὰ εἰνακόσια ἔτεα" 
+Πανὶ δὲ τῷ ἐκ Πηνελόπης (ἐκ ταύτης γὰρ καὶ 
+Ἑρμέω λέγεται γενέσθαι ὑπὸ Ἑλλήνων ὁ Πάν) 
+ἐλάσσω ἔτεα ἐστὶ τῶν Τρωικῶν, κατὰ ὀκτακόσια 
+μάλιστα ἐς ἐμέ. 
+
+146. Τούτων ὧν ἀμφοτέρων πάρεστι χρᾶσθαι 
+τοῖσί τις πείσεται λεγομένοισι μᾶλλον' ἐμοὶ δ᾽ 
+ὧν ἡ περὶ αὐτῶν γνώμη ἀποδέδεκται. εἰ μὲν γὰρ 
+φανεροί τε ἐγένοντο. καὶ κατεγήρασαν καὶ οὗτοι 
+ἐν τῇ Ἑλλάδι, κατά περ Ἡρακλέης ὁ ἐξ Appi- 
+τρύωνος γενόμενος, καὶ δὴ καὶ Διόνυσος ὁ ἐκ 
+Σεμέλης καὶ Πὰν ὁ ὁ ἐκ Πηνελόπης γενόμενος, ἔφη 
+ἄν τις καὶ τούτους ἄλλους ἄνδρας γενομένους ἔχειν 
+τὰ ἐκείνων οὐνόματα τῶν προγεγονότων θεῶν. νῦν 
+δὲ Διόνυσόν τε λέγουσι οἱ "Ελληνες ὡς αὐτίκα 
+γενόμενον ἐς τὸν μηρὸν ἐνερράψατο Ζεὺς καὶ 
+453 
+
+
+BOOK II. 145-146 
+
+
+145. Among the Greeks, Heracles, Dionysus, and 
+Pan are held to be the youngest of the gods. But 
+in Egypt Pan! is the most ancient of these and is 
+one of the eight gods who are said to be the first of 
+all, Heracles belongs to the second dynasty (that of 
+the so-called twelve gods), and Dionysus to the third, 
+which came after the twelve. How many years there 
+were between Heracles and the reign of Amasis, 
+I have already shown; Pan is said to be earlier 
+still; the years between Dionysus and Amasis are 
+the fewest, and they are reckoned by the Egyptians 
+at fifteen thousand. Of all this the Egyptians claim 
+to have certain knowledge, seeing that they had 
+always reckoned the years and chronicled them in 
+writing. Now the Dionysus who was called the son 
+of Semele, daughter of Cadmus, was about sixteen 
+hundred years before my time, and Heracles son of 
+Alemene about nine hundred years; and Pan the 
+son of Penelope (for according to. the Greeks 
+Penelope and Hermes were the parents of Pan) 
+was about eight hundred years before me, and thus 
+of a later date than the Trojan war. 
+
+146. With regard to these two, Pan and Dionysus, a 
+man may follow whatsoever story he deems most cred- 
+ible; but I here declare my own opinion concerning 
+them :— Had Dionysus son of Semele and Pan son of 
+Penelope been made manifest in Hellas and lived 
+there to old age, like Heracles the son of Amphi- 
+tryon, it might have been said that they too (like 
+Heracles) were but men, named after the older Pan 
+and Dionysus, the gods of antiquity ; but as it is, the 
+Greek story has it that no sooner was Dionysus born 
+than Zeus sewed him up in his thigh and carried 
+
+
+! The Egyptian Khem. 
+453 
+
+
+P 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἤνεικε ἐς Νύσαν τὴν ὑπὲρ Αἰγύπτου ἐοῦσαν ἐν 
+τῇ Αἰθιοπίῃ, καὶ Ilavós γε πέρι οὐκ ἔχουσι εἰπεῖν 
+ὅκῃ ἐτράπετο γενόμενος. δῆλά μοι ὧν γέγονε ὅτι 
+ὕστερον ἐπύθοντο οἱ "Ελληνες τούτων τὰ οὐνόματα, 
+ἦ τὰ τῶν ἄλλων θεῶν: ἀπ᾽ οὗ δὲ ἐπύθοντο χρόνου, 
+ἀπὸ τούτου γενεηλογέουσι αὐτῶν τὴν γένεσιν. 
+
+141. Ταῦτα μέν νυν αὐτοὶ Αἰγύπτιοι λέγουσι" 
+ὅσα δὲ οἵ τε ἄλλοι ἄνθρωποι καὶ Αἰγύπτιοι 
+λέγουσι ὁμολογέοντες τοῖσι ἄλλοισι κατὰ ταύτην 
+τὴν χώρην γενέσθαι, ταῦτ᾽ ἤδη φράσω’ προσέσται 
+δέ τι αὐτοῖσι καὶ τῆς ἐμῆς ὄψιος. 
+
+᾿Ελευθερωθέντες Αἰγύπτιοι μετὰ τὸν ἱρέα τοῦ 
+Ηφαίστου, βασιλεύσαντα, οὐδένα γὰρ χρόνον οἷοί 
+τε ἦσαν ἄνευ βασιλέος διαιτᾶσθαι, ἐστήσαντο 
+δυώδεκα βασιλέας, δυώδεκα μοίρας δασάμενοι 
+Αἴγυπτον πᾶσαν. οὗτοι ἐπιγαμίας ποιησάμενοι 
+ἐβασίλευον νόμοισι τοῖσιδε χρεώμενοι, μήτε katat- 
+ρέειν ἀλλήλους μήτε πλέον τι δίζησθαι € ἔχειν τὸν 
+ἕτερον τοῦ ἑτέρου, εἶναί τε φίλους τὰ μάλιστα. 
+τῶνδε δὲ εἵνεκα τοὺς νόμους τούτους ἐποιέοντο, 
+ἐσχυρῶς περιστέλλοντες' ἐκέχρηστό σφι κατ᾽ 
+ἀρχὰς αὐτίκα ἐνισταμένοισι ἐ ἐς τὰς τυραννίδας τὸν 
+
+αλκέῃ φιάλῃ σπείσαντα αὐτῶν ἐν τῷ ἱρῷ τοῦ 
+Ηφαίστου,: Το ῦτον ἁπάσης βασιλεύσειν Αἰγύπτου: 
+ἐς γὰρ δὴ τὰ πάντα ἱρὰ συνελέγοντο. 
+
+148. Καὶ δή σφι μνημόσυνα ἔδοξε λιπέσθαι 
+κοινῇ, δόξαν δέ σφι ἐποιήσαντο λαβύρινθον, ὀλ.έ- 
+γον ὑπὲρ τῆς λίμνης τῆς Μοίριος κατὰ Κροκοδεύ- 
+λων καλεομένην πόλιν μάλιστά κη κείμενον" τὸν 
+ἐγὼ ἤδη εἶδον λόγου μέξω. εἰ γάρ τις τὰ ÈE“ Ἑλλή- 
+νων τείχεά τε καὶ ἔργων ἀπόδεξιν συλλογίσαιτο, 
+
+
+454 
+
+
+BOOK II. 146-148 
+
+
+him away to Nysa in Ethiopia beyond Egypt ; and 
+as for Pan, the Greeks know not what became of him 
+after his birth. It is therefore plain to me that the 
+Greeks learnt the names of these two gods later than 
+the names of all the others, and trace the birth of 
+both to the time when they gained the knowledge. 
+
+147. Thus far I have recorded what the Egyptians 
+themselves say. I will now relate what is recorded 
+alike by Egyptians and foreigners to have happened 
+in that land, and I will add thereto something of 
+what I myself have seen. 
+
+After the reign of the priest of Hephaestus the 
+Egyptians were made free. But they could never live 
+without a king, so they divided Egypt into twelve 
+portions and set up twelve kings. These kings inter- 
+married, and agreed to be close friends, undertaking 
+not to depose one another nor to seek to possess one. 
+more than another. The reason of this agreement, 
+which they zealously guarded, was this: at their very 
+first establishment in their several lordships an oracle 
+was given them that that one of them who poured 
+a libation from a bronze vessel in the temple of 
+Hephaestus (where, as in all the temples, it was their 
+wont to assemble) should be king of all Egypt. 
+
+148. Moreover they resolved to preserve the 
+memory of their names by some joint enterprise ; and 
+having so resolved they made a labyrinth,! a little 
+way beyond the lake Moeris and near the place called 
+the City of Crocodiles. I have myself seen it, and 
+indeed no words can tell its wonders ;? were all that 
+Greeks have builded and wrought added together 
+
+
+1 This “labyrinth” was a horseshoe-shaped group of 
+buildings, supposed to have been near the pyramid of Hawára 
+(Sayce). 2 I take ἤδη as = 4 δή, with λόγου μέζω. 
+
+
+455 
+
+
+d 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἑλάσσονος πόνου τε ἂν καὶ δαπάνης φανείη ἐόντα 
+τοῦ λαβυρίνθου τούτου. καίτοι ἀξιόλογός γε καὶ 
+ὁ ἐν 'Edéco ἐστὶ νηὸς καὶ ὁ ἐν Σάμῳ. ἦσαν μέν 
+νυν καὶ αἱ πυραμίδες λόγου µέζονες, καὶ πολλῶν 
+ἑκάστη αὐτέων Ἑλληνικῶν ἔργων καὶ μεγάλων 
+ἀνταξίη, ὁ δὲ δὴ λαβύρινθος καὶ τὰς πυραμίδας 
+ὑπερβάλλει: τοῦ [yàp]! δυώδεκα μὲν εἰσὶ αὐλαὶ 
+κατάστεγοι, ἀντίπυλοι ἀλλήλῃσι, ἓξ μὲν πρὸς 
+βορέω ἓξ δὲ πρὸς νότον τετραμμέναι, συνεχέες" 
+τοῖχος δὲ ἔξωθεν ὁ αὐτός σφεας περιέργει. 
+οἰκήματα ò ἔνεστι διπλᾶ, τὰ μὲν ὑπόγαια τὰ 
+δὲ μετέωρα ἐπ᾽ ἐκείνοισι, τρισχίλια ἀριθμόν, 
+πεντακοσίων καὶ χιλίων ἑκάτερα. τὰ μέν 
+νυν μετέωρα τῶν οἰκημάτων αὐτοί τε ὡρῶμεν 
+διεξιόντες καὶ αὐτοὶ θεησάµενοι λέγομεν, τὰ 
+δὲ αὐτῶν ὑπόγαια λόγοισι ἐπυνθανόμεθα' οἱ γὰρ 
+ἐπεστεῶτες τῶν Αἰγυπτίων δεικνύναι αὐτὰ οὐδα- 
+μῶς ἤθελον, φάμενοι θήκας αὐτόθι εἶναι τῶν τε 
+ἀρχὴν τὸν λαβύρινθον τοῦτον οἰκοδομησαμένων 
+
+ασιλέων καὶ τῶν ἱρῶν κροκοδείλων. οὕτω τῶν 
+μὲν κάτω πέρι οἰκημάτων ἀκοῇ παραλαβόντες 
+λέγομεν, τὰ δὲ ἄνω μέξονα ἀνθρωπηίων ἔργων 
+αὐτοὶ ὡρῶμεν: αἵ τε γὰρ διέξοδοι διὰ τῶν στεγέων 
+καὶ οἱ ἑλιγμοὶ διὰ τῶν αὐλέων ἐόντες ποικιλώτατοι 
+θῶμα μυρίον παρείχοντο ἐξ αὐλῆς τε ἐς τὰ οἰκή- 
+ματα διεξιοῦσι καὶ ἐκ τῶν οἰκήματων ἐς πασ- 
+τάδας, ἐς στέγας τε ἄλλας ἐκ τῶν παστάδων 
+καὶ ἐς αὐλὰς ἄλλας ἐκ τῶν οἰκημάτων. ὀροφὴ 
+δὲ πάντων τούτων λιθίνη κατά περ οἱ τοῖ- 
+χοι, οἱ δὲ τοῖχοι τύπων ἐγγεγλυμμένων πλέοι, 
+
+1 yàp is bracketed, τοῦ as a relative being in accordance 
+with Herodotus' practice. 
+
+
+456 
+
+
+BOOK II. 148 
+
+
+the whole would be seen to be a matter of less 
+labour and cost than was this labyrinth, albeit the 
+temples at Ephesus and Samos are noteworthy 
+buildings. Though the pyramids were greater than 
+words can tell, and each one of them a match for 
+many great monuments built by Greeks, this 
+maze surpasses even the pyramids. It has twelve 
+roofed courts, with doors over against each other: 
+six face the north and six the south, in two con- 
+tinuous lines, all within one outer wall. There are 
+also double sets of chambers, three thousand 
+altogether, fifteen hundred above and the same 
+number under ground. We ourselves viewed those 
+that are above ground, and speak of what we have 
+seen; of the underground chambers we were only 
+told; the Egyptian wardens would by no means 
+show them, these being, they said, the burial vaults 
+of the kings who first built this labyrinth, and of 
+the sacred crocodiles. Thus we can only speak 
+from hearsay of the lower chambers; the upper 
+we saw for ourselves, and they are creations greater 
+than human. The outlets of the chambers and 
+the mazy passages hither and thither through 
+the courts were an unending marvel to us as we 
+passed from court to apartment and from apartment 
+to colonnade, from colonnades again to more cham- 
+bers and then into yet more courts. Over all this 
+is a roof, made of stone like the walls, and the 
+walls are covered with carven figures, and every 
+
+
+457 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+αὐλὴ δὲ é ἑκάστη περίστυλος- λ. θου λευκοῦ ἁρμοσ- 
+μένου τὰ μάλιστα. τῆς δὲ γωνίης τελευτῶντος 
+τοῦ λαβυρίνθου ἔχεται πυραμὶς τεσσερακοντόρ- 
+γυιος, ἐν τῇ ζῷα μεγάλα ἐγγέγλυπται' ὁδὸς δ᾽ ἐς 
+αὐτὴν ὑπὸ γῆν πεποίηται. 
+
+149. Τοῦ δὲ λαβυρίνθου τούτου ἐόντος τοιούτου 
+θῶμα ἔτι μέξον παρέχεται ἡ ἡ Μοίριος καλεομένη 
+λίμνη, παρ᾽ ἣν ὁ λαβύρινθος οὗτος οἰκοδόμη- 
+ται: τῆς τὸ περίμετρον τῆς περιόδου εἰσὶ στάδιοι 
+ἑξακόσιοι καὶ τρισχίλιοι, σχοίνων ἑξήκοντα ἐόν- 
+των, ἴσοι καὶ αὐτῆς Αἰγύπτου τὸ παρὰ θάλασσαν. 
+κεῖται δὲ μακρὴ ἡ λίμνη πρὸς Βορέην τε καὶ νότον, 
+ἐοῦσα βάθος, τῇ βαθ υτάτη͵ αὐτὴ ἑωυτῆς, πεντη- 
+κοντόργυιος. ὅτι δὲ χειροποίητος ἐστὶ καὶ ὀρυκτή, 
+αὐτὴ δηλοῖ: ἐν γὰρ μέσῃ τῇ λίμνη μάλιστά Kn 
+ἑστᾶσι δύο πυραμίδες, τοῦ ὕδατος .ὑπερέχουσαι 
+πεντήκοντα ὀργυιὰς ἑκατέρη, καὶ τὸ KAT ὕδατος 
+οἰκοδόμηται ἕτερον τοσοῦτον, καὶ ἐπ᾿ ἀμφοτέρῃσι 
+ἔπεστι κολοσσὸς λίθινος κατήμενος ἐν θρόνῳ. 
+οὕτω αἱ μὲν πυραμίδες εἰσὶ ἑκατὸν ὀργυιέων, αἱ δ᾽ 
+ἑκατὸν opyural δίκαιαι εἰσ) στάδιον ἑξάπλεθρον, 
+ἑξαπέδου τε τῆς ὀργυιῆς μετρεομένης καὶ τετρα- 
+πήχεος, τῶν ποδῶν μὲν τετραπαλαίστων ἐόντων, 
+τοῦ δὲ πήχεος ἑξαπαλαίστου. τὸ δὲ ὕδωρ τὸ ἐν 
+τῇ λίμνῃ αὐθιγενὲς μὲν οὐκ ἔστι (ἄνυδρος γὰρ 
+
+j δεινῶς ἐστι ἡ ταύτῃ), ἐκ τοῦ Νείλου δὲ κατὰ 
+διώρυχα ἐσῆκται, καὶ ἓξ μὲν μῆνας ἔσω ῥέει ἐς 
+τὴν λίμνην, & δὲ μῆνας ἔξω ἐς τὸν Ν εἶλον αὗτις' 
+καὶ ἐπεὰν μὲν ἐκρέῃ ἔξω, ἣ δὲ τότε τοὺς ef μῆνας 
+ἐς τὸ βασιλήιον καταβάλλει ἐπ᾿ ἡμέρην ἑκάστην 
+τάλαντον ἀργυρίου ἐκ τῶν ἰχθύων, ἐ ἐπεὰν δὲ ἐσίῃ 
+τὸ ὕδωρ ἐς αὐτήν, εἴκοσι μνέας. 
+
+
+45δ 
+
+
+BOOK II. 148-149 
+
+
+court is set round with pillars of white stone most 
+exactly fitted together. Hard by the corner where 
+the labyrinth ends there stands a pyramid forty 
+fathoms high, whereon great figures are carved. 
+A passage has been made into this underground. 
+
+149. Such is this labyrinth; and yet more mar- 
+vellous is the lake Moeris, by which it stands. This 
+lake has a circuit of three thousand six hundred 
+furlongs, or sixty schoeni, which is as much as the 
+whole seaboard of Egypt. Its length is from north 
+to south; the deepest part has a depth of fifty 
+fathoms. That it has been dug out and made by 
+men's hands the lake shows for itself; for almost 
+in the middle of it stand two pyramids, so built that 
+fifty fathoms of each are below and fifty above the 
+water; atop of each is a colossal stone figure seated 
+on a throne. Thus these pyramids are a hundred 
+fathoms high ; and a hundred fathoms equal a fur- 
+long of six hundred feet, the fathom measuring six 
+feet or four cubits, the foot four spans and the cubit 
+six spans. The water of the lake is not natural 
+(for the country here is exceeding waterless) but 
+brought by a channel from the Nile; six months it 
+flows into the lake, and six back into the river. 
+For the six months that it flows from the lake, the 
+daily take of fish brings a silver talent into the 
+royal treasury, and twenty minae for each day of 
+the flow into the lake. 
+
+
+VOL.I. R 459 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+150. Ἔλεγον δὲ οἱ ἐπιχώριοι καὶ ὡς ἐς τὴν 
+Σύρτιν τὴν ἐς Λιβύην ἐκδιδοῦ ἡ λίμνη αὕτη ὑπὸ 
+γῆν, τετραμμένη τὸ πρὸς ἑσπέρην ἐς τὴν μεσόγαιαν 
+παρὰ τὸ ὄρος τὸ ὑπὲρ Μέμφιος. ἐπείτε δὲ τοῦ 
+ὀρύγματος τούτου οὐκ ὥρων τὸν χοῦν οὐδαμοῦ 
+ἐόντα, ἐπιμελὲς γὰρ δή μοι ἣν, εἰρόμην τοὺς 
+ἄγχιστα οἰκέοντας τῆς λίμνης ὅκου εἴη ὁ χοῦς ὁ 
+ἐξορυχθείς. οἳ δὲ ἔφρασάν μοι ἵνα ἐξεφορύθη, καὶ 
+εὐπετέως ἔπειθον' Ίδεα yap ove καὶ ἐν Νίνῳ τῇ 
+᾿Ασσυρίων πόλι γενόμενον ἕτερον τοιοῦτον. τὰ 
+γὰρ Σαρδαναπάλλου τοῦ Νίνου βασιλέος ἐόντα 
+μεγάλα Χρήματα καὶ φυλασσόμενα ἐν θησαυροῖσι 
+καταγαίοισι ἐπενόησαν κλῶπες ἐκφορῆσαι. ἐκ δὴ 
+ὧν τῶν σφετέρων οἰκίων ἀρξάμενοι οἱ κλῶπες 
+ὑπὸ γῆν σταθμεόμενοι È ἐς τὰ βασιλήια οἰκία ὤρυσ- 
+σον, τὸν δὲ χοῦν τὸν ἐκφορεύμενον ἐκ τοῦ ὀρύγ- 
+ματος, ὅκως γένοιτο νύξ, ἐς τὸν Τίγρην ποταμὸν 
+παραρρέοντα τὴν Νίνον ἐξεφόρεον, ἐ ἐς ὃ κατεργά- 
+σαντο ὅ τι ἐβούλοντο. τοιοῦτον ἕτερον ἤκουσα καὶ 
+κατὰ τὸ τῆς ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ λίμνης ὄρυγμα γενέσθαι, 
+πλὴν οὐ νυκτὸς ἀλλὰ μετ᾽ ἡμέρην ποιεύμενον" 
+ὀρύσσοντας γὰρ τὸν χοῦν τοὺς Αἰγυπτίους ἐς τὸν 
+Νεῖλον φορέειν: ὃ δὲ ὑπολαμβάνων ἔμελλε δια- 
+χέειν. ἡ μέν νυν λίμνη αὕτη οὕτω λέγεται 
+ὀρυχθῆναι" 
+
+151. "Τῶν δὲ δυώδεκα Βασιλέων δικαιοσύνῃ χρεω- 
+μένων, ἀνὰ χρόνον ὡς ἔθυσαν. ἐν τῷ ἱρῷ τοῦ 
+Ἡφαίστου, Tf ὑστάτῃ τῆς ὁρτῆς, ᾽μελλόντων 
+κατασπείσειν, ὁ ἀρχιερεὺς ἐξήνεικέ σφι φιάλας 
+χρυσέας, thot περ ἐώθεσαν σπένδειν, ἁμαρτὼν 
+τοῦ ἀριθμοῦ, ἕνδεκα δυώδεκα ἐοῦσι. ἐνθαῦτα ὡς 
+οὐκ εἶχε φιάλην ὁ ἔσχατος ἑστεὼς αὐτῶν Ψαμ- 
+
+
+46ο 
+
+
+BOOK II. 150-151 
+
+
+150. Further, the people of the country said 
+that this lake issues by an underground stream 
+into the Libyan Syrtis, and stretches inland towards 
+the west along the mountains that are above 
+Memphis. I could not anywhere see the earth 
+taken from the digging of this lake, and this 
+giving me matter for thought, I asked those 
+who dwelt nearest to the lake where the stuff 
+was that had been dug out. They told me: 
+whither it had been carried, and I readily be- 
+lieved them, for I had heard of a like thing 
+happening in the Assyrian city of Ninus. Sardana- 
+pallus king of Ninus had great wealth, which he 
+kept in an underground treasury. Certain thieves 
+were minded to carry it off; they reckoned their 
+course and dug an underground way from their own 
+house to the palace, carrying the earth taken out of 
+the dug passage at night to the Tigris, which runs 
+past Ninus, till at length they accomplished their 
+desire. This, I was told, had happened when the 
+Egyptian lake was dug, save only that the work 
+went on not by night but by day. The Egyptians 
+bore the earth dug out by them to the Nile, to 
+be caught and scattered (as was to be thought) 
+by the river. Thus is this lake said to have been 
+dug. 
+
+151. Now the twelve kings dealt justly ; and as 
+time went on they came to sacrifice in Hephaestus’ 
+temple. On the last day of the feast, they being 
+about to pour libations, the high priest brought out 
+the golden vessels which they commonly used for 
+this; but he counted wrongly and gave the twelve 
+only eleven. So he who stood last of them, Psam- 
+metichus, got no vessel; wherefore taking off his 
+
+
+461 
+
+
+€ 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μήτιχος, περιελόμενος τὴν κυνέην ἐοῦσαν χαλκέην 
+ὑπέσχε τε καὶ ἔσπενδε. κυνέας δὲ καὶ οἱ ἄλλοι 
+ἅπαντες ἐφόρεόν τε βασιλέες καὶ ἐτύγχανον τότε 
+ἔχοντες. Ψαμμήτιχος μέν νυν οὐδενὶ δολερῷ νόῳ 
+χρεώμενος ὑπέσχε τὴν κυνέην" οἳ δὲ ἐν φρενὶ 
+λαβόντες TO τε ποιηθὲν ἐκ Ψαμμητίχου. καὶ τὸ 
+χρηστήριον, ὅτι ἐκέχρηστό σφι τὸν χαλκέῃ σπεί- 
+σαντα αὐτῶν φιάλῃ τοῦτον βασιλέα ἔσεσθαι μοῦ- 
+νον Αἰγύπτου, ἀναμνησθέντες τοῦ χρησμοῦ κτεῖναι 
+μὲν οὐκ ἐδικαίωσαν «Ῥαμμήτιχον, ὡς ἀνεύρισκον 
+βασανίξοντες ἐξ οὐδεμιῆς προνοίης αὐτὸν morh- 
+σαντα, ἐς δὲ τὰ ἕλεα ἔδοξέ σφι διῶξαι Ψιλώσαν- 
+τας τὰ πλεῖστα τῆς δυνάµιος, ἐκ δὲ τῶν ἑλέων 
+που μὴ ἐπιμίσγεσθαι Th ἄλλη Αἰγύπτῳ. 
+. Τὸν δὲ Ὑαμμήτιχον τοῦτον πρότερον pev- 
+c τὸν Αἰθίοπα Σαβακῶν, ὅς οἱ τὸν πατέρα 
+Νεκῶν ἆ ἀπέκτεινε, τοῦτον φεύγοντα τότε ἐς Συρίην, 
+ὡς ἀπαλλάχθη ἐ ἐκ τῆς ὄψιος τοῦ ὀνείρου ὁ Αἰθίοψ, 
+κατήγαγον Αἰγυπτίων οὗτοι οἳ ἐκ νομοῦ τοῦ 
+Σαΐτεω εἰσί. μετὰ δὲ βασιλεύοντα τὸ δεύτερον 
+πρὸς τῶν ἕνδεκα βασιλέων καταλαμβάνει pw διὰ 
+τὴν κυνέην φεύγειν ἐ ἐς τὰ ἕλεα. ἐπιστάμενος ὧν 
+ὡς περιυβρισμένος εἴη πρὸς αὐτῶν, ἐπενόεε τίσασ- 
+αι τοὺς διώξαντα». πέμψαντι δέ οἱ ἐς Βουτοῦν 
+πόλιν ἐς τὸ χρηστήριον τῆς Λητοῦς, ἔνθα δὴ 
+Αἰγυπτίοισι ἐστὶ μαντήιον. ἀψευδέστατον, ἦλθε 
+χρησμὸς ὡς τίσις ἥξει ἀπὸ θαλάσσης χαλκέων 
+ἀνδρῶν ἐπιφανέντων. καὶ τῷ μὲν δὴ ἀπιστίη 
+μεγάλη ὑπεκέχυτο χαλκέους οἱ ἄνδρας ἥξειν ἐ ἐπι- 
+κούρους. χρόνου δὲ οὐ πολλοῦ διελθόντος ἆ ἀναγ- 
+καίη κατέλαβε' ]ωνάς τε καὶ Κᾶρας ἄνδρας κατὰ 
+ληίην ἐκπλώσαντας ἀπενειχθῆναι ἐς Αἴγυπτον, 
+
+
+462 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΙ. 151-152 
+
+
+bronze helmet he held it out and poured the libation 
+
+
+with it. All the other kings too were wont to wear 
+helmets, and were then helmeted; it was not in 
+guile, then, that Psammetichus held out his head- 
+gear; but the rest marked Psammetichus' deed, and 
+remembered the oracle which promised the sover- 
+eignty of all Egypt to whosoever should pour liba- 
+tion from a vessel of bronze; wherefore, though 
+they deemed Psammetichus not to deserve death 
+(for they proved him and found that he had 
+acted without intent), they resolved to strip him of 
+the most of his power and chase him away into 
+the marshes, and that he was not to concern himself 
+with the rest of Egypt. 
+
+152. This Psammetichus had fomieily been in 
+Syria, whither he had fled from Sabacos the Ethio- 
+pian, who killed his. father Necos; then, when the 
+Ethiopian departed by reason of what he saw in a 
+dream, the Egyptians of the province of Sais brought 
+him back from Syria; and now Psammetichus was 
+for the second time king, when it happened to him 
+to be driven away into the marshes by the eleven 
+kings by reason of the matter of the helmet. There- 
+fore he held himself to have been outrageously dealt 
+with by them and had a mind to be avenged on those 
+who had expelled him, and he sent to inquire of the 
+oracle of Leto in the town of Buto, which is the 
+most infallible in Egypt; the oracle answered that 
+he should have vengeance when he saw men of 
+bronze coming from the sea. Psammetichus secretly 
+disbelieved that men of bronze would come to aid 
+him. But after no long time, certain Ionians and 
+Carians, voyaging for plunder, were forced to put in 
+on the coast of Egypt, where they disembarked in 
+
+
+463 
+
+
+y 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐκβάντας δὲ ἐς γῆν καὶ ὁπλισθέντας χαλκῷ ἆγ- 
+γέλλει τῶν τις Αἰγυπτίων ἐς τὰ ἕλεα ἀπικόμενος 
+τῷ Ψαμμητίχῳ, ὡς οὐκ ἰδὼν πρότερον χαλκῷ 
+ἄνδρας ὁπλισθέντας, ὡς χάλκεοι ἄνδρες ἀπιγμένοι 
+ἀπὸ θαλάσσης λεηλατεῦσι τὸ πεδίον. ὃ δὲ μαθὼν 
+τὸ χρηστήριον ἐπιτελεύμενον φίλα. τε τοῖσι Ίωσι 
+καὶ Καρσὶ ποιέεται καί σφεας μεγάλα ὑπισχνεύ- 
+μενος πείθει μετ᾽ ἑωυτοῦ γενέσθαι. ὡς δὲ ἔπεισε, 
+οὕτω ἅμα τοῖσι τὰ ἑωυτοῦ βουλομένοισι Αἰγυπτί- 
+otc, καὶ τοῖσι ἐπικούρομσι καταιρέει τοὺς βασι- 
+λέας. 
+
+153. Κρατήσας δὲ Αἰγύπτου πάσης ὁ Ψαμμή- 
+TLXOS ἐποίησε τῷ Ἡφαίστῳ προπύλαια ἐν Μέμφι 
+τὰ προς νοτον ἄνεμον τετραμμένα, αὐλὴν TE τῷ 
+"Απι, ἐν τῇ τρέφεται ἐπεὰν φανῇ ὁ Απις, οἰκοδό- 
+µησε ἐναντίον τῶν προπυλαίων, πᾶσάν τε περί- 
+στυλον ἐοῦσαν καὶ τύπων πλέην' ἀντὶ δὲ κιόνων 
+ὑπεστᾶσι κολοσσοὶ δυωδεκαπήχεες τῇ αὐλῆ. ὁ δὲ 
+"Amis κατὰ τὴν Ἑλλήνων γλῶσσαν ἐστὶ Ἔπαφος. 
+
+154. Τοῖσι δὲ Ἴωσι καὶ τοῖσι Καρσὶ τοῖσι 
+συγκατεργασαμένοισι αὐτῷ ὁ Ψαμμήτιχος δίδωσι 
+χώρους ἐνοικῆσαι ἀντίους ἀλλήλων, τοῦ Νείλου 
+τὸ μέσον ἔχοντος, τοῖσι οὐνόματα ἐτέθη Στρατό- 
+πεδα' τούτους τε δή σφι τοὺς χώρους δίδωσι καὶ 
+τὰ ἄλλα τὰ ὑπέσχετο πάντα ἀπέδωκε. καὶ δὴ 
+καὶ παῖδας παρέβαλε αὐτοῖσι Αἰγυπτίους τὴν 
+Ἑλλάδα γλῶσσαν ἐκδιδάσκεσθαι. ἀπὸ δὲ τού- 
+των ἐκμαθόντων τὴν γλῶσσαν οἱ νῦν ἑρμηνέες ἐν 
+Αἰγύπτῳ γεγόνασι. οἱ δὲ "Ιωνές τε καὶ οἱ Κᾶρες 
+τούτους τοὺς χώρους οἴκησαν χρόνον ἐπὶ πολλόν: 
+εἰσὶ δὲ οὗτοι οἱ χῶροι πρὸς θαλάσσης ὀλίγον 
+ἔνερθε Βουβάστιος πόλιος, ἐπὶ τῷ Πηλουσίῳ 
+464 
+
+
+BOOK Il. 152-154 
+
+
+their mail of bronze ; and an Egyptian came into the 
+marsh country and brought news to Psammetichus 
+(for he had never before seen mailed men) that men 
+of bronze were come from the sea and were foraging 
+in the plain. Psammetichus saw in this the fulfil- 
+ment of the oracle; he made friends with the 
+Ionians and Carians, and promised them great re- 
+wards if they would join him, and having won them, 
+with the aid of such Egyptians as consented and 
+these allies he deposed the eleven kings. 
+
+153. Having made himself master of all Egypt, 
+he made the southern outercourt of Hephaestus’ 
+temple at Memphis, and built over against this a 
+court for Apis, where Apis is kept and fed whenever 
+he appears; this court has an inner colonnade all 
+round it and many carved figures; the roof is held 
+up by great statues twelve cubits high for pillars. 
+Apis is in the Greek language Epaphus. 
+
+154. The Ionians and Carians who had helped 
+him to conquer were given by Psammetichus places 
+to dwell in called The Camps, opposite to each other 
+on either side of the Nile ; and besides this he paid 
+them all that he had promised. Moreover he put 
+Egyptian boys in their hands to be taught the Greek 
+tongue; these, learning Greek, were the ancestors 
+of the Egyptian interpreters. The Ionians and 
+Carians dwelt a long time in these places, which. are 
+near the sea, on the arm of the Nile called the 
+Pelusian, a little way below the town of Bubastis. 
+
+
+465 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+καλεομένῳ στόματι τοῦ Νείλου. τούτους μὲν δὴ 
+χρόνῳ ὕστερον βασιλεὺς Ἄμασις ἐξαναστήσας 
+ἐνθεῦτεν κατοίκισε ἐς Μέμφιν, φυλακὴν ἑωυτοῦ 
+ποιεύμενος πρὸς Αἰγυπτίων. τούτων δὲ οἰκισθέν- 
+των ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ, οἱ "Ελληνες οὕτω ἐπιμισγόμενοι 
+τούτοισι τὰ περὶ Αἴγυπτον γινόμει α ἀπὸ ὙΨαμμη- 
+τίχου βασιλέος ἀρξάμενοι πάντα καὶ τὰ, ὕστε- 
+ρον ἐπιστάμεθα ἀτρεκέως: πρῶτοι γὰρ οὗτοι ἐν 
+Αἰγύπτῳ ἀλλόγλωσσοι κατοικίσθησαν.. ἐξ ὧν δὲ 
+ἐξανέστησαν χώρων, ἐν τούτοισι δὲ οἵ τε ὀλκοὶ 
+τῶν νεῶν καὶ τὰ ἐρείπια τῶν οἰκημάτων τὸ μέχρι 
+in ἦσαν. 
+
+55. Ὑαμμήτιχος μέν νυν οὕτω ἔσχε Αἴγυπτον. 
+τοῦ 5 δὲ χρηστηρίου τοῦ ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ πολλὰ ἐπε- 
+μνήσθην ἤδη, καὶ δὴ λόγον περὶ αὐτοῦ ὡς ἀξίου 
+ἐόντος ποιήσομαι. τὸ γὰρ χρηστήριον τοῦτο τὸ 
+ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ ἐστὶ μὲν Λητοῦς ἱρόν, ἐν πόλι δὲ 
+μεγάλῃ ἱδρυμένον κατὰ τὸ Σεθεννυτικὸν καλεό- 
+μενον. στόμα τοῦ Νείλου, ἀναπλέοντι ἀπὸ θαλάσ- 
+σης ἄνω. οὔνομα δὲ τῇ πόλι ταύτῃ ὅκου. τὸ 
+χρηστήριον ἐστὶ Βουτώ, ὡς καὶ πρότερον ὠνό- 
+µασταί μοι. ἱρὸν δὲ ἐστὶ ἐν τῇ Ῥουτοῖ ταύτῃ 
+᾿Απόλλωνος καὶ Αρτέμιδος, καὶ ὅ γε νηὸς τῆς 
+Λητοῦς, ἐν τῷ δὴ τὸ χρηστήριον ἔνι, αὐτὸς τε 
+τυγχάνει ἐὼν μέγας καὶ τὰ προπύλαια ἔχει ἐς 
+ὕψος δέκα ὀργυιέων. τὸ δέ µοι τῶν φανερῶν ἦν 
+θῶμα μέγιστον παρεχόμενον, φράσω: ἔστι ἐν τῷ 
+τεμένεϊ. τούτῳ Λητοῦς νηὸς ἐξ ἑ ἑνὸς λίθου πεποιη- 
+μένος ἔς τε ὕψος καὶ ἐ ἐς μῆκος καὶ τοῖχος ἕκαστος 
+τούτοισι ἴσος τεσσεράκοντα πηχέων. τούτων ἕκα- 
+στον ἐστί, τὸ δὲ .καταστέγάσμα τῆς ὀροφῆς ἄλλος 
+ἐπίκειται λίθος, ἔχων τὴν παρωροφίδα τετράπηχυν. 
+
+
+466 
+
+
+BOOK IL. 154-155 
+
+
+Long afterwards, king Amasis removed them thence 
+and settled them at Memphis, to be his guard 
+against the Egyptians. It comes of our intercourse 
+with these settlers in Egypt (who were the first 
+men of alien speech to settle in that country) that 
+we Greeks have exact knowledge of the history of 
+Egypt from the reign of Psammetichus onwards. 
+There still remained till my time, in the places 
+whence the Ionians and Carians were removed, the 
+landing engines! of their ships and the ruins of 
+their houses. 
+
+155. This is the story of Psammetichus’ con- 
+quest of Egypt. I have often made mention of the 
+Egyptian oracle, and I will now treat fully of it, 
+for this it deserves. This Egyptian oracle is in a 
+temple sacred to Leto, and is situated in a great 
+city by the Sebennytic arm of the Nile, on the way 
+up from the sea. The name of the city where is this 
+oracle is Buto; I have already named it. In Buto 
+there is a temple of Apollo and Artemis. The 
+shrine of Leto in which is the oracle is itself very 
+great, and its outer court is ten fathoms high. But I 
+will now tell of what was the most marvellous among 
+things visible there: in this precinct is the shrine 
+of Leto, whereof the height and length of the walls 
+is all made of a single stone slab; each wall has an 
+equal length and height, namely, forty cubits. 
+Another slab makes the surface of the roof, the 
+cornice of which is four cubits broad. 
+
+1 Probably capstans for hauling the ships ashore. ý 
+497 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+156. Οὕτω μέν νυν ὁ LL τῶν φανερῶν 
+μοι τῶν περὶ τοῦτο τὸ ἱρὸν ἐστὶ θωμαστοτα- 
+τον, τῶν δὲ .δευτέρων νῆσος ἡ Χέμμις KANEV- 
+μένη" ἔστι μὲν ἐν λέμνῃ βαθέῃ καὶ πλατέῃ κει- 
+μένη παρὰ τὸ ἐν Βουτοῖ ἱρὸν, λέγεται δὲ ὑπ᾽ 
+Αἰγυπτίων εἶναι αὕτη ἡ νῆσος πλωτή. αὐτὸς μὲν 
+ἔγωγε οὔτε πλέουσαν οὔτε κινηθεῖσαν εἶδον, τέ- 
+θηπα δὲ ἀκούων εἰ νῆσος ἆληθ έως ἐστὶ πλωτή. 
+ἐν δὲ ὧν ταύτῃ νηός τε ᾿Απόλλωνος μέγας ἔνι καὶ 
+βωμοὶ τριφάσιοι ἐνιδρύαται, ἐμπεφύκασι δ᾽ ἐν 
+αὐτῇ φοίνικες συχνοὶ καὶ ἄλλα δένδρεα καὶ καρ- 
+ποφόρα καὶ ἄφορα πολλ.ά. λόγον δὲ τόνδε ἐπι- 
+λέγοντες οἱ Αἰγύπτιοι φασὶ εἶναι αὐτὴν πλωτήν, 
+ὡς ἐν τῇ νήσφ ταύτῃ οὐκ ἐούση πρότερον πλωτῇ 
+Λητώ, ἐοῦσα τῶν ὀκτὼ θεῶν τῶν πρώτων γενο- 
+μένων, οἰκέουσα δὲ ἐν Bovroi πόλι, ἵνα δή οἱ τὸ 
+χρηστήριον τοῦτο ἐστί, ᾿Απόλλωνα map Ἴσιος 
+παρακαταθήκην δεξαμένη διέσωσε κατακρύψασα 
+ἐν τῇ νῦν πλωτῇ λεγομένῃ νήσῳ, ὅτε τὸ πᾶν 
+διζήμενος ὁ Τυφῶν ἐπῆλθε, θέλων ἐξευρεῖν τοῦ 
+᾿Οσίριος τὸν παῖδα. ᾿Απόλλωνα δὲ καὶ Αρτεμιν 
+Διονύσου καὶ Ἴσιος λέγουσι εἶναι παῖδας, Λητοῦν 
+δὲ τροφὸν. αὐτοῖσι καὶ σώτειραν γενέσθαι. Αἰγυπ- 
+τιστὶ δὲ ᾿Απόλλων μὲν ρος, Δημήτηρ δὲ Ἶσις, 
+"Αρτεμις δὲ Βούβαστις. ἐκ τούτου δὲ τοῦ ) λόγου 
+καὶ οὐδενὸς ἄλλου Αἰσχύλος ὁ 0 Εὐφορίωνος 1j "pace 
+TÓ ἐγὼ φράσω, μοῦνος δὴ ποιητέων τῶν προγενο- 
+μένων" ἐποίησε γὰρ "Αρτεμιν εἶναι θυγατέρα 
+Δήμητρος. τὴν δὲ νῆσον διὰ τοῦτο γενέσθαι 
+πλωτήν. ταῦτα μὲν οὕτω λέγουσι. 
+
+151. Ψαμμήτιχος δὲ ἐβασίλευσε Αἰγύπτου τέσ- 
+σερα καὶ πεντήκοντα ἔτεα, τῶν τὰ ἑνὸς δέοντα 
+
+
+468 
+
+
+MA Po ee. V MAS DEN Te αι LUTTE ους = OT ë ~Œ ιο. “πμ ώμο ee i72 Rt S E A eT ANL πο cape fa m eee RA O σα aware νο 
+
+
+BOOK II. 156-157 
+
+
+156. Thus then the shrine is the most marvellous 
+of all things that I saw in this temple; but ol 
+things of lesser note, the most wondrous is the 
+island called Chemmis, This lies in a deep and 
+wide lake near to the temple at Buto, and the 
+Egyptians say that it floats. For myself I never 
+saw it float, nor move at all, and I thought it a 
+marvellous tale, that an island should truly float. 
+However that be, there is a great shrine of Apollo 
+thereon, and three altars stand there; many palm 
+trees grow in the island, and other trees too, some 
+yielding fruit and some not. The story told by the 
+Egyptians to show why the island moves is this : 
+when Typhon came seeking through the world for 
+the son of Osiris, Leto, being one of the eight earliest 
+gods, and dwelling in Buto where this oracle of hers 
+is, received Apollo in charge from Isis and hid him 
+for safety in this island which was before immovable 
+but is now said to float. Apollo and Artemis were 
+(they say) children of Dionysus and Isis, and Leto 
+was made their nurse and preserver; in Egyptian, 
+Apollo is Horus, Demeter Isis, Artemis Bubastis, It 
+was from this and no other legend that Aeschylus 
+son of Euphorion stole an imagination, which is in 
+no other poet, that Artemis was the daughter of 
+Demeter. For the aforesaid reason (say the 
+Egyptians) the island was made to float Such is 
+the tale. 
+
+157. Psammetichus ruled Egypt for fifty-four 
+years; for twenty-nine of these he sat before Azotus, 
+
+
+469 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τριήκοντα Ἄζωτον τῆς Συρίης μεγάλην πόλιν 
+προσκατήμενος ἐπολιόρκεε, ἐς ὃ ἐξεῖλε. αὕτη δὲ 
+ἡ Atwros ἁπασέων πολίων ἐπὶ πλεῖστον χρόνον 
+πολιορκεομένη ἀντέσχε τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν. 
+
+158. Ψαμμητίχου δὲ Νεκῶς παῖς ἐγένετο καὶ 
+ἐβασίλευσε Αἰγύπτου, ὃς τῇ διώρυχι ἐπεχείρησε 
+πρῶτος τῇ ἐς τὴν Ἐρυθρὴν θάλασσαν φερούσῃ, 
+τὴν. Δαρεῖος ὁ Πέρσης δεύτερα διώρυξε" τῆς μῆκος 
+ἐστὶ πλόος ἡμέραι τέσσερες, εὖρος δὲ ὠρύχθη 
+ὥστε τριήρεας δύο πλέειν ὁμοῦ ἐλαστρευμένας. 
+ἧκται δὲ ἀπὸ τοῦ Νείλου τὸ ὕδωρ ἐς αὐτήν: 
+ῆκται δὲ κατύπερθε ὀλίγον Βουβάστιος πόλιος 
+παρὰ Π]άτουμον τὴν ᾿ΑἈραβίην. πόλιν, ἐσέχει δὲ ἐς 
+τὴν ᾿Ἐρυθρὴν θάλασσαν. ὀρώρυκται δὲ πρῶτον 
+μὲν τοῦ πεδίου τοῦ Αἰγυπτίου τὰ πρὸς ᾿Αραβίην 
+ἔχοντα: ἔχεται δὲ κατύπερθε τοῦ πεδίου τὸ κατὰ 
+Μέμφιν τεῖνον ὄρος, ἐν τῷ αἱ λιθοτομίαι ἔνεισι" 
+τοῦ ὧν δὴ € ὄρεος τούτου παρὰ τὴν ὑπωρέην ἧκται 
+7 διῶρυξ an ἑσπέρης μακρὴ πρὸς τὴν ἠῶ, καὶ 
+ἔπειτα τείνει ἐς διασφάγας, φέρουσα ἀπὸ τοῦ 
+ὄρεος πρὸς μεσαμβρίην τε καὶ νότον ἄνεμον ἐ ἐς τὸν 
+κόλπον τὸν ᾿Αράβιον. τῇ δὲ ἐλάχιστον ἐστὶ καὶ 
+συντομώτατον ἐκ THS Bopnins θαλάσσης ὑπερ- 
+βῆναι ἐς τὴν νοτίην καὶ ᾿Ερυθρὴν τὴν αὐτὴν ταύ- 
+την καλεομένην, ἀπὸ τοῦ Ιασίου ὄρεος τοῦ οὐρί- 
+ζοντος Αἴγυπτόν τε καὶ Συρίην, ἀπὸ τούτου εἰσὶ 
+στάδιοι ἀπαρτὶ χίλιοι ἐς τὸν ᾿Αράβιον κόλπον. 
+τοῦτο μὲν τὸ συντομώτατον, 7 δὲ διῶρυξ πολλῷ 
+μακροτέρη, ὅσῳ σκολιωτέρη ἐστί: τὴν ἐπὶ Νεκῶ 
+βασιλέος ὀρύσσοντες Αἰγυπτίων ἀπώλοντο δυώ- 
+δεκα μυριάδες. Νεκῶς μέν νυν μεταξὺ ὀρύσσων 
+ἐπαύσατο μαντηίου ἐμποδίου γενομένου τοιοῦδε, 
+
+
+470 
+
+
+BOOK II. 157-158 
+
+
+a great city in Syria, and besieged it till he took 
+it. Azotus held out against a siege longer than any 
+city of which I have heard. 
+
+158. Psammetichus had a son Necos, who became 
+king of Egypt. It was he who began the making 
+of the canal into the Red Sea,! which was finished 
+by Darius the Persian. This is four days’ voyage in 
+length, and it was dug wide enough for two triremes 
+to move in it rowed abreast. It is fed by the Nile, 
+and is carried from a little above Bubastis by the 
+Arabian town of Patumus; it issues into the Red Sea. 
+
+
+_ The beginning of the digging was in the part of the 
+
+
+Egyptian plain which is nearest to Arabia; the moun- 
+tains that extend to Memphis (in which mountains are 
+the stone quarries) come close to this plain ; the canal 
+is led along the lower slope of these mountains in a 
+long reach from west to east; passing then into a 
+ravine it bears southward out of the hill country 
+towards the Arabian Gulf. Now the shortest and 
+most direct passage from the northern to the south- 
+ern or Red Sea is from the Casian promontory, which 
+is the boundary between Egypt and Syria, to the 
+Arabian Gulf, and this is a distance of one thousand 
+furlongs, neither more nor less; this is the most 
+direct way, but the canal is by much longer, inasmuch 
+as it is more crooked. In Necos' reign a hundred 
+and twenty thousand Egyptians perished in the dig- 
+ging of it. During the course of excavations, Necos 
+ceased from the work, being stayed by a prophetic 
+
+
+1 This canal ran from near Tel Basta (Bubastis) apparently 
+to Suez. Inscriptions recording Darius' construction of it 
+have been found in the neighbourhood. 
+
+
+471 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τῷ βαρβάρῳ αὐτὸν προεργάξεσθαι. βαρβάρους 
+δὲ πάντας οἱ Αἰγύπτιοι καλέουσι τοὺς μὴ σφίσι 
+ὁμογλώσσους. 
+
+159. Παυσάμενος δὲ τῆς διώρυχος 0 Νεκῶς 
+ἐτράπετο͵ πρὸς στρατηίας, καὶ τριήρεες αἳ μὲν ἐπγὶ 
+τῇ βορηίῃ, θαλάσσῃ ἐποιήθησαν, at δ᾽ ἐν τῷ 
+᾿Αραβίῳ κόλπῳ ἐπὶ τῇ ᾿Ερυθρῇ θαλάσσῃ, τῶν ἔτι 
+οἱ ὀλκοὶ ἐπίδηλοι. καὶ ταύτῃσί τε ἐχρᾶτο ἐν τῷ 
+δέοντι καὶ Σύροισι πεζῇ ὁ Νεκῶς συμβαλὼν ἐν 
+Μαγδώλφ ἐνίκησε, μετὰ δὲ τὴν μάχην Κάδυτιν 
+πόλιν τῆς Συρίης ἐοῦσαν μεγάλην εἷλε. ἐν τῇ δὲ 
+ἐσθῆτι ἔτυχε ταῦτα κατεργασάμενος, ἀνέθηκε τῷ 
+᾿Απόλλωνι πέμψας ἐς Βραγχίδας τὰς Μιλησίων. 
+μετὰ δέ, ἑκκαίδεκα ἔτεα τὰ πάντα ἄρξας, τελευτᾶ, 
+τῷ παιδὶ Ψάμμι παραδοὺς τὴν ἀρχήν. 
+
+160. Ἐπὶ τοῦτον δὴ τὸν Ψάμμιν βασιλεύοντα 
+Αἰγύπτου ἀπίκοντο ᾿Ηλείων ἄγγελοι, αὐχέοντες 
+δικαιότατα καὶ κάλλιστα τιθέναι τὸν ἐν Ὀλυμπί η 
+ἀγῶνα πάντων ἀνθρώπων, καὶ δοκέοντες παρὰ 
+ταῦτα οὐδ᾽ ἂν τοὺς σοφωτάτους ἀνθρώπων Αἰγυ- 
+πτίους οὐδὲν ἐπεξευρεῖν' ὡς δὲ ἆ ἀπικόμενοι ἐς τὴν 
+Αἴγυπτον οἱ Ἠλεῖοι ἔλεγον τῶν εἵνεκα ἀπίκοντο, 
+ἐνθαῦτα ὁ 0 βασιλεὺς οὗτος συγκαλέεται Λἰγυπτίων 
+τοὺς Ἀεγομένους εἶναι σοφωτάτους. συνελθόντες 
+δὲ οἱ Αἰγύπτιοι ἐπυνθάνοντο τῶν ᾿Ηλείων λεγόν- 
+των ἅπαντα τὰ κατήκει σφέας ποιέειν περὶ τὸν 
+ἀγῶνα: ἀπηγησάμενοι δὲ τὰ πάντα ἔφασαν ἥκειν 
+ἐπιμαθησόμενοι εἴ τι ἔχοιεν Αἰγύπτιοι τούτων 
+δικαιότερον ἐπεξευρεῖν. οἳ δὲ Βουλευσάμενοι 
+ἐπειρώτων τοὺς ᾿Ηλείους et σφι οἱ πολιῆται eva- 
+γωνίζονται. οἳ δὲ ἔφασαν καὶ σφέων καὶ τῶν 
+ἄλλων Βλλήνων ὁμοίως τῷ βουλομένῳ ἐξεῖναι 
+
+
+472 
+
+
+BOOK II. 158-160 
+
+
+utterance that he was toiling betorehand for the 
+barbarian. The Egyptians call all men of other 
+languages barbarians. 
+
+159. Necos then ceased from making the canal 
+and engaged rather in warlike preparation ; some of 
+his ships of war were built on the northern sea, and 
+some in the Arabian Gulf, by the Red Sea coast: the 
+landing-engines of these are still to be seen. He 
+used these ships at need, and with his land army 
+met and defeated the Syrians at Magdolus,! taking 
+the great Syrian city of Cadytis? after the battle. 
+He sent to Branchidae of Miletus and dedicated 
+there to Apollo the garments in which he won these 
+victories. Presently he died after a reign of sixteen 
+years, and his son Psammis reigned in his stead. 
+
+160. While this Psammis was king of Egypt he was 
+visited by ambassadors from Elis, the Eleans boast- 
+ing that they had ordered the Olympic games with 
+all the justice and fairness in the world, and claim- 
+ing that even the Egyptians, albeit the wisest of all 
+men, could not better it. When the Eleans came to 
+Egypt and told the purpose of their coming, Psammis 
+summoned an assembly of those who were said to 
+be the wisest men in Egypt. These assembled, and 
+inquired of the Eleans, who told them of the rules 
+of the games which they must obey, and, having de- 
+clared these, said they had come that if the 
+Egvptians could invent any juster way they might 
+learn this too. The Egyptians consulted together, 
+and then asked the Eleans if their own townsmen 
+took part in the contests. The Eleans answered 
+that this was so: all Greeks from Elis or elsewhere 
+
+
+1 Magdolus appears to be the Migdol of O.T. 
+
+
+2 Gaza. 
+
+
+473 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἀγωνίζεσθαι. οἱ δὲ Αἰγύπτιοι ἔφασαν σφέας 
+οὕτω τιθέντας παντὸς τοῦ δικαίου ἡμαρτηκέναι: 
+οὐδεμίαν γὰρ εἶναι μηχανὴν ὅκως οὐ τῷ ἀστῷ 
+ἀγωνιζομένῳ προσθήσονται, ἀδικέοντες τὸν ξεῖνον. 
+ἀλλ) εἰ δὴ βούλονται δικαίως τιθέναι καὶ τούτου 
+εἵνεκα ἀπικοίατο ἐς Αἴγυπτον, ξείνοισι ayov- 
+στῇσι ἐκέλευον τὸν ἀγῶνα τιθέναι, ᾿Ηλείων δὲ 
+μηδενὶ εἶναι ἀγωνίζεσθαι. ταῦτα μὲν Αἰγύπτιοι 
+᾿Ηλείοισι ὑπεθήκαντο. 
+
+161. Ψάμμιος δὲ ἓξ ἔτεα μοῦνον βασιλεύσαντος 
+Αὐγύπτου καὶ στρατευσαµένου ἐς Αἰθιοπίην καὶ 
+µεταυτίκα τελευτήσαντος ἐξεδέξατο ᾿Απρίης ὁ 
+Ψάμμιος' ὃς μετὰ Ψαμμήτιχον τὸν ἑωυτοῦ προ- 
+πάτορα ἐγένετο εὐδαιμονέστατος τῶν πρότερον 
+βασιλέων, ἐπ᾿ ἔτεα πέντε καὶ εἴκοσι ἄρξας, ἐν 
+τοῖσι ἐπί τε Σιδῶνα στρατὸν ἤλασε καὶ ἐναυ- 
+μάχησε τῷ Tupi. ἐπεὶ δέ οἱ ἔδεε κακῶς γενέσθαι, 
+ἐγίνετο ἀπὸ προφάσιος τὴν ἐγὼ μεζόνως μὲν ἐν 
+τοῖσι Λιβυκοῖσι λόγοισι ἀπηγήσομαι, μετρίως 8 
+ἐν τῷ παρεόντι. ἀποπέμψας γὰρ στράτευμα ὁ 
+᾿Απρίης ἐπὶ Κυρηναίους μεγαλωστὶ προσέπταισε, 
+Αἰγύπτιοι δὲ ταῦτα ἐπιμεμφόμενοι ἀπέστησαν 
+ἀπ᾽ αὐτοῦ, δοκέοντες τὸν ᾿Απρίην ἐκ προνοίης 
+αὐτοὺς ἀποπέμψαι ἐς φαινόμενον κακόν, ἵνα δὴ 
+σφέων φθορὴ γένηται, αὐτὸς δὲ τῶν λοιπῶν 
+Αἰγυπτίων ἀσφαλέστερον ἄρχοι. ταῦτα δὲ δεινὰ 
+ποιεύμενοι οὗτοί τε οἱ ἀπονοστήσαντες καὶ οἱ τῶν 
+ἀπολομένων φίλοι ἀπέστησαν ἐκ τῆς ἰθέης. 
+
+162. Πυθόμενος δὲ ᾿Απρίης ταῦτα πέμπει ἐπ᾽ 
+αὐτοὺς "Αμασιν καταπαύσοντα λόγοισι. ὃ δὲ 
+ἐπείτε ἀπικόμενος κατελάμβανε τοὺς Δἰγυπτίους 
+
+
+474 
+
+
+BOOK II. 160-162 
+
+
+might contend. Then the Egyptians said that this 
+rule was wholly wide of justice: ‘ For," said they, 
+“it cannot be but that you will favour your own 
+townsmen in the contest and deal unfairly by a 
+stranger. Nay, if you will indeed make just rules 
+and have therefore come to Egypt, you should admit 
+only strangers to the contest, and not Eleans." 
+Such was the counsel of the Egyptians to the 
+Eleans. 
+
+161. Psammis reigned over Egypt for six years 
+only; he invaded Ethiopia, and immediately there- 
+after died, and Apries! his son reigned in his stead. 
+He was more fortunate than any former king (save | 
+only his great-grandfather Psammetichus) during his 
+rule of twenty-five years, in which he sent an army 
+against Sidon and did battle by sea with the king of 
+Tyre. But when it was fated that ill should befall 
+him, the cause of it was one that I will now deal 
+with briefly, and at greater length in the Libyan 
+part of this history. Apries sent a great host against 
+Cyrene and suffered a great defeat. The Egyptians 
+blamed him for this and rebelled against him; for 
+they thought that Apries had knowingly sent his 
+men to their doom, that by their so perishing he 
+might be the safer in his rule over the rest of the 
+Egyptians. Bitterly angered by this, those who re- 
+turned home and the friends of the slain openly 
+revolted. 
+
+162. Hearing of this, Apries sent Amasis to them 
+to persuade them from their purpose. When Amasis 
+came up with the Egyptians he exhorted them to 
+
+! Apries is the Hophra of O.T.; he reigned from 589 to 
+670 B.C., apparently. But the statement that he attacked 
+
+
+Tyre and Sidon is inconsistent with Jewish history (Jerem. 
+xxvii., Ezek. xvii). 
+475 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ταῦτα μὴ ποιέειν, λέγοντος αὐτοῦ τῶν τις Ai- 
+γυπτίων ὄπισθε στὰς περιέθηκέ οἱ κυνέην, καὶ 
+περιτιθεὶς ἔφη ἐπὶ βασιληίῃ περιτιθέναι. καὶ τῷ 
+οὔ κως ἀεκούσιον ἐγίνετο, τὸ ποιεύμενον, ὡς διε- 
+δείκνυε. ἐπείτε γὰρ ἐστήσαντο μιν βασιλέα τῶν 
+Αἰγυπτίων οἱ ἀπεστεῶτες, παρεσκευάζετο ὡς ἑλῶν 
+ἐπὶ τὸν Apin. πυθόμενος δὲ ταῦτα ὁ ᾿Απρίης 
+ἔπεμπε ἐπ "Αμασιν ἄνδρα δόκιμον τῶν περὶ 
+ἑωυτὸν Αἰγυπτίων, τῷ οὔνομα ἣν Πατάρβημις, 
+ἐντειλάμενος αὐτῷ ζῶντα “A pact ἀγαγεῖν Tap 
+ἑωυτόν. ὡς δὲ ἀπικόμενος. τὸν "Apac ἐκάλεε 0 
+Πατάρθημις, ὁ Ἴλμασις, ἔτυχε yàp. ἐπ᾿ ἵππου 
+κατήμενος, ἐπαείρας ἀπεματάισε, καὶ τοῦτό μιν 
+ἐκέλευε ᾿Απρίῃ ἀπάγειν. ὅμως δὲ αὐτὸν ἀξιοῦν 
+τὸν ' Πατάρβημιν βασιλέος μεταπεμπομένου ἰέναι 
+πρὸς αὐτον' τὸν δὲ αὐτῷ ὑποκρίνεσθαι ὡς ταῦτα 
+πάλαι παρεσκευάξετο ποιέειν, καὶ αὐτῷ οὐ μέμ- 
+ψεσθαι ᾽Απρίην' παρέσεσθαι γὰρ καὶ αὐτὸς καὶ 
+ἄλλους ἄξειν. τὸν δὲ Πατάρβημιν ἔκ τε τῶν 
+λεγομένων οὐκ ἀγνοέειν τὴν διάνοιαν, καὶ παρα- 
+σκεναξόμενον ὁ ὁρῶντα σπουδῇ ἆ ἀπιέναι, βουλόμενον 
+τὴν ταχίστην βασιλέι δηλῶσαι τὰ πρησσόµενα. 
+ὡς δὲ ἀπικέσθαι αὐτὸν πρὸς τὸν ᾿Απρίην οὐκ 
+ἄγοντα τὸν "Αμασιν, οὐδένα λόγον αὐτῷ δόντα 
+ἀλλὰ περιθύμως ἔχοντα περιταμεῖν προστάξαι 
+αὐτοῦ τά τε ὦτα καὶ τὴν ῥῖνα. ἰδόμενοι 9 οἱ 
+λοιποὶ τῶν Αὐγυπτίων, οἳ ἔτι τὰ ἐκείνου ἐφρόνεον, 
+ἄνδρα τὸν δοκιμώτατον ἑωυτῶν οὕτω αἰσχρῶς 
+λύμῃ διακείμενον, οὐδένα δὴ χρόνον ἐπισχόντες 
+ἀπιστέατο πρὸς τοὺς ἑτέρους καὶ ἐδίδοσαν σφέας 
+αὐτοὺς ᾿Αμάσι. 
+
+163. Πυθόμενος δὲ καὶ ταῦτα ὁ ᾿Απρίης ὥπλιξε 
+
+
+416 
+
+
+BOOK II. 162-163 
+
+
+desist from what they did; but while he spoke an 
+Egyptian came behind him and put a helmet on his 
+head, saying it was the token of royalty. And Amasis 
+showed that this was not displeasing to him, for being 
+made king by the rebel Egyptians he prepared to 
+march against Αργίες, When Apries heard of it, he 
+sent against Amasis an esteemed Egyptian named 
+Patarbemis, one of his own court, charging him to 
+take the rebel alive and bring him into his presence. 
+Patarbemis came, and summoned Amasis, who lifted 
+his leg with an unseemly gesture (being then on 
+horseback) and bade the messenger take that token 
+back to Apries. But when Patarbemis was never- 
+theless instant that Amasis should obey the king’s 
+summons and go to him—such is the story—-Amasis 
+answered that he had long been making ready to do 
+this, and Apries should be well satisfied with him: “For 
+I will come myself," quoth he, “and bring others with 
+me.” Hearing this, Patarbemis could not mistake 
+Amasis’ purpose; he saw his preparations and made 
+haste to depart, that he might with all speed make 
+known to the king what was afoot. When Apries saw 
+him return without Amasis he gave him no chance 
+to speak, but in his rage and fury bade cut off Patar- 
+bemis’ ears and nose. The rest of the Egyptians, 
+who still favoured his cause, seeing the foul despite 
+thus done to the man who was most esteemed among 
+them, changed sides without more ado and delivered 
+
+themselves over to Amasis. 
+163. This news too being brought to Apries, he 
+477 
+
+
+. [ο 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+TOUS ἐπικούρους καὶ ἤλαυνε ἐπὶ τοὺς Αἰγυπτίους" 
+εἶχε δὲ περὶ ἑωυτὸν Kápás τε καὶ Ἴωνας ἄνδρας 
+ἐπικούρους τρισμυρίους" ἦν. δέ οἱ τὰ βασιλήια ἐν 
+Σάι πόλι, μεγάλα ἐόντα καὶ ἀξιοθέητα. καὶ οἱ τε 
+περὶ τὸν ᾿Απρίην ἐπὶ τοὺς Αἰγυπτίους Huo av καὶ 
+οἱ περὶ τὸν "Αμασιν ἐπὶ τοὺς ξείνους" ἔν τε δὴ 
+Μωμέμφι πόλι ἐγένοντο ἀμφότεροι καὶ πειρή- 
+σεσθαι ἔμελλον ἀλλήλων. 
+
+164. Ἔστι δὲ Αἰγυπτίων ἑπτὰ γένεα, καὶ 
+τούτων oi μὲν ἱρέες of δὲ μάχιμοι κεκλέαται, οἳ 
+δὲ βούκολοι oi δὲ συβῶται, of δὲ κάπηλοι, ot δὲ 
+ἑρμήνεες, οἳ δὲ κυβερνήται. γένεα μὲν Αἰγυ- 
+πτίων τοσαῦτα ἐστί, οὐνόματα. δέ σφι κέεται ἀπὸ 
+τῶν τεχνέων. οἱ δὲ μάχιμοι αὐτῶν καλέονται μὲν 
+Καλασίριές τε καὶ Ἡρμοτύβιες, ἐκ νομῶν δὲ 
+τῶνδε εἰσί: κατὰ γὰρ δὴ νομοὺς Αἴγυπτος ἅπασα 
+διαραίρηται. 
+
+165. Ἑρμοτυβίων μὲν οἶδε εἰσὶ νομοί, Βουσι- 
+ρίτης, Σαΐτης, Χεμμύτης, Παπρημίτης, νῆσος ἡ 
+Ἡροσωπῖτις καλεομένη, Ναθῶ τὸ ἥμισυ. ἐκ μὲν 
+τούτων τῶν νομῶν Ἑρμοτύβιες εἰσί, γενόμενοι, 
+ὅτε ἐπὶ πλείστους ἐγένοντο, ἑκκαίδεκα μυριάδες. 
+καὶ τούτων βαναυσίης οὐδεὶς δεδάηκε οὐδέν, ἀλλ’ 
+ἀνέωνται ἐς τὸ μάχιμον. 
+
+166. Καλασιρίων δὲ οἶδε ἄλλοι νομοί εἰσι, 
+Θηβαῖος, Βουβαστίτης, Αφθίτης, Τανίτης, Mev- 
+δήσιος, Σεβεννύτης, ᾿Αθριβίτης, Φαρβαϊθίτης, 
+Θμουΐτης, Ὀνουφίτης, ᾿Ανύτιος, Μυεκφορίτης" 
+οὗτος ὁ νομὸς ἐν νήσῳ οἰκέει ἀντίον Βουβάστιος 
+πόλιος οὗτοι δὲ οἱ νομοὶ Καλασιρίων εἰσί, γε- 
+νόμενοι, ὅτε ἐπὶ πλείστους ἐγένοντο, πέντε καὶ 
+εἴκοσι μυριάδες ἀνδρῶν. οὐδὲ τούτοισι ἔξεστι 
+
+
+418 
+
+
+BOOK Il. 163-166 
+
+
+armed his guard and marched against the Egyptians ; 
+he had a bodyguard of Carians and Ionians, thirty 
+thousand of them, and his royal dwelling was in the 
+city of Sais, a great and marvellous palace.  Apries' 
+men marched against the Egyptians, and so did 
+Amasis men against the strangers; so they came 
+both to Momemphis, where it was their purpose to 
+prove each other's quality. 
+
+164. The Egyptians are divided into seven classes, 
+severally entitled priests, warriors, cowherds, swine- 
+herds, hucksters, interpreters, and pilots. So many 
+classes there are, each named after its vocation. The 
+warriors are divided into Kalasiries and Hermotubies, 
+and they belong to the following provinces (for all 
+divisions in Egypt are made according to provinces). 
+
+165. The Hermotubies are of the provinces of 
+Busiris, Sais, Chemmis, and Papremis, the island 
+called Prosopitis, and half of Natho—all of these; | 
+their number, at its greatest, attained to a hundred 
+and sixty thousand. None of these has learnt any 
+common trade; they are free to follow arms alone. 
+
+166. The Kalasiries for their part are of the 
+provinces of Thebes, Bubastis, Aphthis, Tanis, 
+Mendes, Sebennys, Athribis, Pharbaithis, Thmuis, 
+Onuphis, Anytis, Myecphoris (this last is in an island 
+over against the city of Bubastis)—all these; their 
+number, at its greatest, attained to two hundred 
+and fifty thousand men. These too may practise 
+
+
+419 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τέχνην ἐπασκῆσαι οὐδεμίαν, ἀλλὰ τὰ és πόλεμον 
+ἐπασκέουσι μοῦνα, παῖς παρὰ πατρὸς ἐκδεκόμενος. 
+
+167. Ei μέν νυν καὶ τοῦτο παρ᾽ Αἰγυπτίων 
+μεμαθήκασι οἱ "Ελληνες, οὐκ ἔχω ἀτρεκέως κρῖναι, 
+ὁρέων καὶ Θρήικας καὶ Σκύθας καὶ Πέρσας καὶ 
+Λυδοὺς καὶ σχεδὸν πάντας τοὺς βαρβάρους ἆπο- 
+τιµοτέρους τῶν ἄλλων ἡγημένους πολιητέων τοὺς 
+τὰς τέχνας μανθάνοντας καὶ τοὺς ἐκγόνους τούτων, 
+τοὺς δὲ ἀπαλλαγμένους τῶν χειρωναξιέων yev- 
+ναίους νομιζομένους εἶναι, καὶ μάλιστα τοὺς ἐς 
+τὸν πόλεμον ἀνειμένους: μεμαθήκασι δ᾽ ὧν τοῦτο 
+πάντες οἱ "Ἕλληνες καὶ μάλιστα Λακεδαιμόνιοι. 
+ἥκιστα δὲ Κορίνθιοι ὄνονται τοὺς χειροτέχνας. 
+
+168. Γέρεα δέ σφι ἣν τάδε ἐξαραιρημένα μού- 
+νοισι Αἰγυπτίων πάρεξ τῶν ἱρέων, ἄρουραι ἐξαί- 
+pero. δυώδεκα ἑκάστῳ ἀτελέες. ἡ δὲ ἄρουρα 
+ἑκατὸν πηχέων ἐστὶ Αἰγυπτίων πάντῃ, ὁ δὲ Ai- 
+γύπτιος πῆχυς τυγχάνει ἴσος ἐὼν τῷ Σαμίῳ. 
+ταῦτα μὲν δὴ τοῖσι ἅπασι ἣν ἐξαραιρημένα, τάδε 
+δὲ ἐν περιτροπῇ ἐκαρποῦντο καὶ οὐδαμὰ ὡυτοί. 
+Καλασιρίων χίλιοι καὶ Ἑρμοτυβίων ἐδορυφόρεον 
+ἐνιαυτὸν ἕκαστοι τὸν βασιλέα" τούτοισι ὧν τάδε 
+πάρεξ τῶν ἀρουρέων ἄλλα ἐδίδοτο ἐπ᾽ ἡμέρῃ 
+ἑκάστη, ὁπτοῦ σίτου σταθμὸς πέντε μνέαι ἑκάστῳ, 
+κρεῶν βοέων δύο μνέαι, οἴνου τέσσερες ἀρυστῆρες. 
+ταῦτα τοῖσι αἰεὶ δορυφορέουσι ἐδίδοτο. 
+
+169. Ἐπείτε δὲ συνιόντες 6 τε ᾿Απρίης ἄγων 
+τοὺς ἐπικούρους καὶ ὁ "Αμασις πάντας Αἰγυπτίους 
+ἀπίκοντο ἐς Μώμεμφιν πόλιν, συνέβαλον' καὶ ἐμα- 
+χέσαντο μὲν εὖ οἱ ξεῖνοι, πλήθεϊ δὲ πολλῷ ἐλάσ- 
+coves ἐόντες κατὰ τοῦτο ἑσσώθησαν. ᾿Απρίεω δὲ 
+
+
+480 
+
+
+BOOK II. ιόό6--ιόο 
+
+
+no trade but only war, which is their hereditary 
+calling. 
+
+167. Now whether this separation, like other 
+customs, has come to Greece from Egypt, I cannot 
+exactly judge. I know that in Thrace and Scythia 
+and Persia and Lydia and nearly all foreign countries 
+those who learn trades and their descendants are 
+held in less esteem than the rest of the people, and 
+those who have nothing to do with artisans' work, 
+especially men who are free to practise the art of 
+war, are highly honoured. Thus much is certain, that 
+this opinion, which is held by all Greeks and chiefly 
+by the Lacedaemonians, is of foreign origin. It is in 
+Corinth that artisans are held in least contempt. 
+
+168. The warriors were the only Egyptians, except 
+the priests, who had special privileges: for each of 
+them there was set apart an untaxed plot of twelve 
+acres. This acre is a square of a hundred Egyptian 
+cubits each ‘ay, the Egyptian cubit being equal to 
+the Samia. These lands were set apart for all; 
+it was never the same men whocultivated them, but 
+each in turn.! A thousand Kalasiries and as many 
+Hermotubies were the king's annual bodyguard. 
+These men, besides their lands, received each a daily 
+provision of five minae's weight of roast grain, two 
+minae of beef, and four cups of wine. These were 
+the gifts received by each bodyguard. 
+
+169. When Apries with his guards and Amasis 
+with the whole force of Egyptians came to the town 
+of Momemphis, they joined battle; and though the 
+foreigners fought well, they were by much the fewer, 
+and therefore were worsted. Apries, they say, 
+
+
+1 That is, each twelve-acre plot was cultivated by a new 
+occupier every year. 
+
+
+481 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+λέγεται εἶναι ἥδε διάνοια, μηδ᾽ ἂν θεόν μιν μηδένα 
+δύνασθαι παῦσαι τῆς βασιληίης’ οὕτω ἀσφαλέως 
+ἑωυτῷ ἱδρῦσθαι ἐδόκεε. καὶ δη τότε συμβαλὼν 
+ἑσσώθη καὶ ζωηρηθεὶς ἀπήχθη ἐς Σάιν πόλιν, ἐς 
+τὰ ἑωυτοῦ οἰκία πρότερον ἐόντα, τότε δὲ ᾿Αμάσιος 
+ἤδη βασιλήια. ἐνθαῦτα δὲ τέως μὲν ἐτρέφετο ἐν 
+τοῖσι βασιληίοισι, καί μιν ᾽Άμασις εὖ περιεῖπε" 
+τέλος δὲ μεμφομένων Αἰγυπτίων ὡς οὐ ποιέοι 
+δίκαια τρέφων τὸν σφίσι τε καὶ ἑωυτῷ ἔχθιστον, 
+οὕτω δὴ παραδιδοῖ τὸν ᾿Απρίην τοῖσι Ad ἰγυπτίοισι. 
+οἳ δέ μιν ἀπέπνιξαν καὶ ἔπειτα ἔθαψαν ἐν τῇσι 
+πατρωίησι ταφῆσι' al δὲ εἰσὶ ἐν τῷ ἱρῷ τῆς ᾿Αθη- 
+ναΐης, ἀγχοτάτω τοῦ μεγάρου, ἐσιόντι ἀριστερῆς 
+χειρός. ἔθαψαν δὲ Σάϊται πάντας τοὺς ἐκ νομοῦ 
+τούτου γενομένους βασιλέας ἔ ἔσω ἐν τῷ ἱρῷ. καὶ 
+γὰρ τὸ τοῦ ᾿Αμάσιος σῆμα ἑκαστέρω μὲν ἐστὶ τοῦ 
+μεγάρου ἢ τὸ τοῦ ᾽Απρίεω καὶ τῶν τεύτου προ- 
+πατόρων, ἔστι μέντοι καὶ τοῦτο ἐν τῇ αὐλῇ τοῦ 
+ἱροῦ, παστὰς λιθίνη μεγάλη καὶ ἠσκημένη στύ- 
+λοισί τε φοίνικας τὰ δένδρεα μεμιμημένοισι καὶ 
+τῇ ἄλλῃ δαπάνῃ’ ἔσω δὲ ἐν τῇ παστάδι διξὰ 
+θυρώματα ὃ ἕστηκε, ἐν δὲ τοῖσι θυρώμασι ἡ θήκη 
+ἐστί. 
+
+170. Eic δὲ καὶ αἱ ταφαὶ τοῦ οὐκ ὅσιον 
+ποιεῦμαι ἐπὶ τοιούτῳ πρήγματι ἐξαγορεύειν τὸ 
+οὔνομα ἐν Σάι, ἐν τῷ ἱρῷ τῆς ᾿Αθηναίης, ὄπισθε 
+τοῦ νηοῦ, παντὸς τοῦ τῆς ᾿Αθηναίης ἐχόμεναι 
+τοίχου. καὶ ἐν τῷ τεμένεϊ ὀβελοὶ ἑ ἑστᾶσι μεγάλοι 
+λίθινοι, λίμνη τε ἐστὶ ἐχομένη λιθίνῃ κρηπῖδι 
+κεκοσμημένη καὶ ἐργασμένη EÙ κύκλῳ καὶ 
+μέγαθος, ὡς ἐμοὶ ἐδόκεε, ὅση περ ἡ ἐν Δήλῳ ἡ 
+τροχοειδὴς καλεομένη. 
+
+452 
+
+
+BOOK Il. 169-170 
+
+
+supposed that not even a god could depose him from 
+his throne ; so firmly he thought he was established ; 
+and now being worsted in battle and taken captive 
+he was brought to Sais, to the royal dwelling which 
+belonged once to him but now to Amasis, There 
+he was sustained for a while in the palace, and well 
+entreated by Amasis. But presently the Egyptians 
+complained that there was no justice in allowing one 
+who was their own and their king's bitterest enemy 
+to live; whereupon Amasis gave Apries up to them, 
+and they strangled him and then buried him in the 
+burial-place of his fathers. This is in the temple of 
+
+
+. Athene, very near to the sanctuary, on the left of the 
+
+
+entrance. The people of Sais buried within the 
+temple precinct all kings who were natives of their 
+province. The tomb of Amasis is farther from the 
+sanctuary than the tomb of Apries and his ancestors ; 
+yet it also is within the temple court; it is a great 
+colonnade of stone, richly adorned, the pillars whereof 
+are wrought in the form of palm trees. In this 
+colonnade are two portals, and the place where the 
+coffin lies is within their doors. 
+
+170. There is also at Sais the burial-place of him 
+whose name I deem it forbidden to utter in speaking 
+of such a matter; it is in the temple of Athene, 
+behind and close to the whole length of the wall of 
+the shrine. Moreover great stone obelisks stand in 
+the precinct; and there is a lake hard by, adorned 
+with a stone margin and wrought to a complete 
+circle; it is, as it seemed to me, of the bigness of the 
+lake at Delos which they call the Round Pond. 
+
+
+483 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+171. Ἐν δὲ τῇ λίμνη ταύτῃ τὰ δείκηλα τῶν 
+παθέων αὐτοῦ νυκτὸς ποιεῦσι, τὰ καλέουσι μυστή- 
+pia Αἰγύπτιοι. περὶ μέν νυν τούτων εἰδότε "μοι 
+ἐπὶ πλέον ὡς ἕκαστα αὐτῶν ἔχει, εὔστομα κείσθω. 
+καὶ τῆς Δήμητρος τελετῆς πέρι, τὴν οἱ Ἕλληνες 
+θεσμοφόρια καλέουσι, καὶ ταύτης μοι πέρι εὔστομα 
+κείσθω, πλὴν ὅσον αὐτῆς ὁσίη ἐστὶ λέγειν ' αἱ 
+Δαναοῦ θυγατέρες ἦσαν αἱ τὴν τελετὴν ταύτην 
+ἐξ Αἰγύπτου ἐξαγαγοῦσαι καὶ διδάξασαι τὰς 
+Πελασγιώτιδας γυναῖκας: μετὰ δὲ ἐξαναστάσης 
+πάσης Πελοποννήσου ὑπὸ Δωριέων ἐξαπώλετο 
+ή τελετή, οἱ δὲ ὑπολειφθέντες Πελοποννησίων καὶ 
+ye ἐξαναστάντες ᾿Αρκάδες διέσωξον αὐτὴν μοῦνοι. 
+9. Απρίεω δὲ ὧδε καταραιρηµένου ἐβασί- 
+λευσε “Apacs, νομοῦ μὲν Σαΐτεω ἐών, ἐκ τῆς δὲ 
+ἦν πόλιος, οὔνομά οἱ ἐστὶ Σιούφ. τὰ μὲν δὴ 
+πρῶτα κατώνοντο τὸν "Apa Αἰγύπτιοι καὶ ἐν 
+οὐδεμιῇ μοίρῃ μεγάλῃ ἦγον ἅτε δὴ δημότην τὸ 
+πρὶν ἐόντα καὶ οἰκίης οὐκ ἐπιφανέος' μετὰ δὲ 
+σοφίῃ αὐτοὺς ὁ "Auaats, οὐκ ἀγνωμοσύνῃ 
+προσηγάγετο. ἦν οἱ ἄλλα τε ἀγαθὰ pupia, 
+ἐν δὲ καὶ ποδανιπτὴρ χρύσεος, ἐν τῷ αὐτός τε 
+ὁ "Άμασις καὶ οἱ δαιτυμόνες οἱ πάντες τοὺς 
+πόδας ἑκάστοτε ἐναπενίξοντο' τοῦτον κατ᾽ ὧν 
+κόψας ἄγαλμα δαίμονος. ἐξ αὐτοῦ ἐποιήσατο, 
+καὶ ἵδρυσε τῆς πόλιος ὅκου ἦν ἐπιτηδεότατον: 
+οἱ δὲ Αἰγύπτιοι φοιτέοντες πρὸς τῶγαλμα 
+ἐσέβοντο μεγάλως. μαθὼν δὲ ὁ "Ἄμασις τὸ ἐκ 
+τῶν ἀστῶν ποιεύμενον, συγκαλέσας Αἰγυπτίους 
+ἐξέφηνε φὰς ἐκ τοῦ ποδανιπτῆρος τῶγαλμα γεγο- 
+
+l Pn brackets πάσης, as not consistent with the following 
+words. 
+
+
+494 
+
+
+BOOK II. 171-172 
+
+
+171. On this lake they enact by night the story 
+of the god's sufferings, a rite which the Egyptians 
+call the Mysteries. I could speak more exactly of 
+these matters, for I know the truth, but I will hold 
+my peace ; nor will I say aught concerning that rite 
+of Demeter which the Greeks call Thesmophoria,! 
+saving such part of it as I am not forbidden to 
+mention. It was the daughters of Danaus who 
+brought this rite out of Egypt and taught it to the 
+Pelasgian women; afterwards, when the people of 
+Peloponnesus were driven out by the Dorians, it was 
+lost, except in so far as it was preserved by the 
+Arcadians alone, the Peloponnesian nation that was 
+not driven out but left in its home. 
+
+172. Apries being thus deposed, Amasis became 
+king ; he was of a town called Siuph in the province 
+of Sais. Now at first he was contemned and held in 
+but little regard by the Egyptians, as having been 
+but a common man and of no high family; but 
+presently he won them to him by being cunning and 
+not arrogant. He had among his countless treasures 
+a golden foot-bath, in which he and all those who 
+feasted with him were ever wont to wash their feet. 
+This he broke in pieces and made thereof a god's 
+image, which he set in the most fitting place in the 
+city ; and the Egyptians came ever and anon to this 
+image and held it in great reverence. When Amasis 
+knew what the townsmen did, he called the 
+Egyptians together and told them that the image 
+had been made out of the foot-bath ; once (said he) 
+
+
+1 A festival celebrated by Athenian women in autumn. 
+
+
+485 
+
+
+k 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+νέναι, ἐς τὸν πρότερον μὲν τοὺς Αἰγυπτίους ἐ ἐνεμέειν 
+τε καὶ ἐνουρέειν καὶ πόδας ἐναπονίζεσθαι, τότε δὲ 
+μεγάλως. σέβεσθαι. ἤδη ὧν ἔφη λέγων. ὁμοίως 
+αὐτὸς τῷ ποδανιπτῆρι πεπρηγέναι" εὐ γὰρ πρό- 
+
+
+τερον εἶναι δημότης, ἀλλ᾽ ἐν τῷ παρεόντι εἶναι 
+
+
+αὐτῶν ᾿ βασιλεύς" καὶ τιμᾶν τε καὶ προμηθέεσθαι 
+ἑωυτοῦ ἐκέλευε. 
+
+173. Τοιούτῳ μὲν τρόπῳ προσηγάγετο τοὺς 
+Αἰγυπτίους ὥστε δικαιοῦν δουλεύειν, ἐχρᾶτο δὲ 
+καταστάσι πρηγμάτων τοιῇδε" τὸ μὲν ὄρθριον 
+μέχρι ὅτευ πληθούσης ἆ ἀγορῆς προθύμως ἔ ἔπρησσε 
+τὰ προσφερόμενα πρήγματα, τὸ δὲ ἀπὸ τούτου 
+ἔπινέ τε καὶ κατέσκωπτε τοὺς συμπότας καὶ ἣν 
+μάταιός τε καὶ παιγνιήμων. ἀχθεσθέντες δὲ τού- 
+τοισι οἱ φίλοι αὐτοῦ ἐνουθέτεον αὐτὸν τοιάδε 
+λέγοντες. M Ὢ βασιλεῦ, οὐκ ὀρθῶς σεωυτοῦ προ- 
+έστηκας, ἐς τὸ ἄγαν φαῦλον προάγων σεωυτόν. 
+σὲ γὰρ ἐχρῆν ἐν θρόνῳ σεμνῷ σεμνὸν θωκέοντα δι᾿ 
+ἡμέρης. πρήσσειν τὰ πρήγματα, καὶ οὕτω Αἰγύ- 
+πτιοί τ᾽ ἂν ἠπιστέατο. ὡς: ὑπ ᾿ἀνδρὸς μεγάλου ἄ ἄρχον- 
+ται, καὶ ἄμεινον σὺ ἂν ἤκουες: νῦν δὲ ποιέεις 
+οὐδαμῶς βασιλικά," ὃ δ᾽ ἀμείβετο τοῖσιδε αὐτούς. 
+“Τὰ τόξα οἱ ἐκτημένοι, ἐπεὰν μὲν δέωνται χρᾶσθαι, 
+ἐντανύουσι" ei yàp δὴ τὸν πάντα χρόνον. ἐντε- 
+ταμένα ein, ἐκραγείη ἄν, ὥστε ἐς τὸ δέον οὐκ ἂν 
+ἔχοιεν αὐτοῖσι χρᾶσθαι. οὕτω δὲ καὶ ἀνθρώπου 
+κατάστασις" εὖ ἐθέλοι κατεσπουδάσθαι αἰεὶ μηδὲ 
+ἐς παιγνίην τὸ μέρος ἑωυτὸν ἀνιέναι, λάθοι ἂν 
+ἤτοι μανεὶς ἢ ὅ ô γε ἀπόπληκτος γενόμενος" τὰ ἐγὼ 
+ἐπιστάμενος μέρος ἑκατέρῳ νέμω.᾽ ταῦτα μὲν τοὺς 
+φίλους ἀμείψατο. 
+
+174. Λέγεται δὲ ὁ "Αμασις, καὶ ὅτε ἦν ἰδιώτης, 
+
+
+486 
+
+
+BOOK Il. 172-174 
+
+
+his subjects had washed their feet in it and put it 
+to yet viler uses; now they greatly revered it, *So 
+now" (quoth he to them) “it has fared with me as 
+with the foot-bath ; once I was a common man, now 
+I am your king; it is your duty to honour me and 
+hold me in regard." 
+
+173. In this manner he won the Egyptians to 
+consent to be his slaves ; and this is how he ordered 
+his affairs: in the morning, till the filling of the 
+market place, he wrought zealously at such business 
+as came before him; the rest of the day he spent in 
+drinking and jesting with his boon companions in 
+idle and sportive mood. But this displeased his 
+friends, who thus admonished him: “O King, you 
+are ill guided so to demean yourseif. We would have 
+you sit aloft on a throne of pride all day doing your 
+business ; thus would the Egyptians know that they 
+have a great man for their ruler, and you would have 
+the better name among them; but now your be- 
+haviour is nowise royal." * Nay," Amasis answered 
+them, “men that have bows bend them at need 
+only ; were bows kept for ever bent they would 
+break, and so would be of no avail when they were 
+needed. Such too is the nature of men. Were they 
+to be ever at serious work nor permit themselves a 
+fair share of sport they would go mad or silly ere 
+they knew it; I am well aware of that, and give 
+each of the two its turn." Such was his answer to 
+his friends. 
+
+174. It is said that before Amasis was a king he 
+
+
+487 
+
+
+-.. P 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὡς φιλοπότης ἣν καὶ φιλοσκώμμων καὶ οὐδαμῶς 
+κατεσπουδασμένος ἀνήρ' ὅκως δέ μιν ἐπιλεύποι 
+πίνοντά τε καὶ εὐπαθέοντα τὰ ἐπιτήδεα, κλέπτεσκε 
+ἂν περιιών' ot ὃ ἄν μιν φάμενοι ἔχειν τὰ σφέτερα 
+χρήματα ἀρνεύμενον ἄγεσκον ἐπὶ μαντήιον, ὅκου 
+e / v A a" . Ν΄. ey 7 e b 
+ἑκάστοισι εἴη. πολλὰ μὲν δὴ καὶ ἡλίσκετο ὑπὸ 
+
+^ J Ν \ Na 1$ / , / \ 
+τῶν μαντηίων, πολλὰ δὲ καὶ ἀπέφευγε. ἐπείτε δὲ 
+
+\ 9 , 3 [d / e \ Φ.Α 
+καὶ ἐβασίλευσε, ἐποίησε τοιάδε: ὅσοι μὲν αὐτὸν 
+τῶν θεῶν ἀπέλυσαν μὴ φῶρα εἶναι, τούτων μὲν 
+τῶν ἱρῶν οὔτε ἐπεμέλετο οὔτε ἐς ἐπισκευὴν ἐδίδου 
+
+δέ δὲ 7 cÜ e Ò \ } A , / 
+οὐδέν, οὐδὲ φοιτέων ἔθυε ὡς οὐδενὸς ἐοῦσι ἀξίοισι 
+ψευδέα τε µαντήια ἐκτημένοισι' ὅσοι δέ μιν κατέ- 
+δῆσαν φῶρα εἶναι, τούτων δὲ ὡς ἀληθέων θεῶν 
+ἑόντων καὶ ἀψευδέα μαντήια παρεχομένων τὰ 
+μάλιστα ἐπεμέλετο. 
+
+175. Καὶ τοῦτο μὲν ἐν Σάι τῇ ᾿Αθηναίῃ προπύ- 
+λαια θωμάσια οἷα ἐξεποίησε, πολλὸν πάντας 
+ὑπερβαλόμενος τῷ τε ὕὑψεϊ καὶ τῷ μεγάθεϊ, ὅσων 
+τε τὸ μέγαθος λίθων ἐστὶ καὶ ὁκοίων τεῶν' τοῦτο 
+δὲ κολοσσοὺς μεγάλους καὶ ἀνδρόσφιγγας περι- 
+
+’ 2 [A / y , , . 
+μήκεας ἀνέθηκε, λίθους τε ἄλλους ἐς ἐπισκευὴν 
+ὑπερφυέας τὸ μέγαθος ἐκόμισε. ἠγάγετο δὲ τού- 
+
+M \ , ^ \ / , / 
+των τοὺς μὲν ἐκ τῶν κατὰ Μέμφιν ἐουσέων λιθο- 
+/ ` δὲ e 10 , Ἔ / 
+τομιέων, τοὺς δὲ ὑπερμεγάθεας ἐξ ᾿Βλεφαντίνης 
+πόλιος πλόον καὶ εἴκοσι ἡμερέων ἀπεχούσης ἀπὸ 
+
+r * » e , ^ , \ / 
+Σάιος. τὸ δὲ οὐκ ἥκιστα αὐτων ἀλλὰ μάλιστα 
+θωμάζω, ἔστι τόδε: οἴκημα μουνόλιθον ἐκόμισε ἐξ 
+᾿Ελεφαντίνης πόλιος, καὶ τοῦτο ἐκόμιζον μὲν ἐπ᾿ 
+
+μιξον μ 
+
+
+488 
+
+
+/ 
+
+
+BOOK II. 174-175 
+
+
+was a man nowise serious-minded but much given to 
+drinking and jesting; and when his drinking and 
+merrymaking brought him to penury, he would wander 
+around and steal from one and another. Then those 
+others, when he denied the charge that he had taken 
+their possessions, would bring him to whatever place 
+of divination was nearest them; and the oracles often 
+declared him guilty and often acquitted him. When 
+he became king, he took no care of the shrines of 
+the gods who had acquitted him of theft, nor gave 
+them aught for maintenance, nor made it his prac- 
+tice to sacrifice there, for he deemed them to be 
+worthless and their oracles to be false ; but he tended 
+with all care the gods who had declared his guilt, 
+holding them to be gods in very truth and their 
+oracles infallible. 
+
+175. Amasis made a marvellous outer court for 
+the temple of Athene 1 at Sais, surpassing, in height 
+and grandeur, and in the size and splendour of the 
+stones, all who had erected such buildings; moreover, 
+he set up huge images and vast man-headed 
+sphinxes,? and brought enormous blocks of stone 
+besides for the building. Some of these he brought 
+from the stone quarries of Memphis; those of 
+greatest size came from the city Elephantine,? distant 
+twenty days' journey by river from Sais. But let 
+me now tell of what I hold the most marvellous of 
+his works. He brought from Elephantine a shrine 
+made of one single block of stone; three years it 
+
+
+1 Apparently, Nit; also identified with Demeter (132, 
+note). 
+
+? Visitors to Karnak will remember the double row of 
+sphinxes leading to the temple. 
+
+8 The island opposite Assuan; the Assuan quarries have 
+always been famous. 
+
+
+489 
+
+
+br 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἔτεα τρία, δισχίλιοι δέ οἱ προσετετάχατο ἄνδρες 
+ἀγωγέες, καὶ οὗτοι ἅπαντες ἦσαν κυβερνῆται. τῆς 
+δὲ στέγης ταύτης τὸ μὲν μῆκος ἔξωθεν ἐστὶ εἷς τε 
+καὶ εἴκοσι πήχεες, εὗρος δὲ τεσσερεσκαίδεκα, ὕψος 
+δὲ ὀκτώ. ταῦτα μὲν τὰ µέτρα ἔξωθεν τῆς στέγης 
+τῆς μουνολίθου ἐ ἐστί, ἀτὰρ ἔσωθεν τὸ μῆκος ὀκτω- 
+καίδεκα πηχέων καὶ πυγόνος εκ τὸ δὲ ὕψος 
+πέντε πηχέων ἐστί. αὕτη τοῦ .ἱροῦ κέεται παρὰ 
+τὴν ἔσοδον: ἔσω γάρ μιν ἐς τὸ ἱρόν φασι τῶνδε 
+εἵνεκα οὐκ ἐσελκύσαι" τὸν ἀρχιτέκτονα αὐτῆς ἑλκο- 
+μένης τῆς στέγης ἀναστενάξαι, οἷά τε χρόνου 
+ἐγγεγονότος πολλοῦ καὶ ἀχθόμενον τῷ ἔργῳ, τὸν 
+δὲ " Apacw ἐνθύμιον ποιησάμενον οὐκ ἐᾶν ἔτι προ- 
+σωτέρω ἑλκύσαι. ἤδη δὲ τινὲς λέγουσι ὡς ἄνθρω- 
+πος διεφθάρη ὑπ᾽ αὐτῆς τῶν τις αὐτὴν μοχλευόν- 
+των, καὶ ἀπὸ τούτου οὐκ ἐσελκυσθῆναι. 
+
+176. ᾿Ανέθηκε δὲ καὶ ἐν τοῖσι ἄλλοισι ἱροῖσι ὁ 
+“Apacs πᾶσι τοῖσι ἐλλογίμοισι ἔργα τὸ μέγαθος 
+ἀξιοθέητα, ἐ ἐν δὲ καὶ ἐν Μέμφι τὸν ὕπτιον κείμενον 
+κολοσσὸν τοῦ Ἡφαιστείου ἔμπροσθε, τοῦ πόδες 
+πέντε καὶ ἑβδομήκοντα εἰσὶ τὸ μῆκος: ἐπὶ δὲ τῷ 
+αὐτῷ βάθρῳ ἑστᾶσι τοῦ αὐτοῦ ἐόντος λίθου δύο 
+κολοσσοί, εἴκοσι ποδῶν τὸ μέγαθος ἐὼν ἑκάτερος, 
+ὃ μὲν ἔνθεν ὃ Ò ἔνθεν τοῦ μεγάλου. ἔστι δὲ 
+λίθινος ἕ ἕτερος τοσοῦτος καὶ ἐν Σι, κείμενος κατὰ 
+τὸν αὐτὸν τρόπον, τῷ ἐν Μέμφι. τῇ "σι τε 
+τὸ ἐν Μέμφι i ἱρὸν "Αμασις ἐστὶ ὁ ἐξοικοδομήσας, 
+ἐὸν μέγα τε καὶ ἀξιοθεητότατον. 
+
+177. Emr’ ᾽Αμάσιος δὲ βασιλέος λέγεται Αἴγυ- 
+πτος μάλιστα δὴ τότε εὐδαιμονῆσαι καὶ τὰ ἀπὸ τοῦ 
+
+
+1 This lacuna is in one MS. filled by the words τὸ δὲ εὖρο: 
+δυώδεκα πηχέων. 
+
+
+490 
+
+
+BOOK II. 175-177 
+
+
+was in the bringing, and two thousand men were 
+charged with the carriage of it, pilots all of them. 
+This chamber measures in outer length twenty-one 
+cubits, in breadth fourteen, in height eight. These 
+are the outer measurements of the chamber which is 
+made of one block ; its inner length is of eighteen 
+cubits and four-fifths of a cubit, and its height of 
+five cubits. It lies by the entrance of the temple ; 
+the reason why it was not dragged within into the 
+temple was (so they say), that while it was being 
+drawn the chief builder groaned aloud for the much 
+time spent and his weariness of the work, and 
+Amasis taking this to heart would not suffer it to 
+be drawn further. Some again say that a man, one 
+of them that heaved up the shrine, was crushed by 
+it, and therefore it was not dragged within. 
+
+176. Moreover Amasis dedicated, besides monu- 
+ments of marvellous size in all the other temples 
+of note, the huge image that lies supine before 
+Hephaestus’ temple at Memphis; this image is 
+seventy-five feet in length ; there stand on the same 
+base, on either side of the great image, two huge 
+statues hewn from the same block, each of them 
+twenty feet high. There is at Sais another stone 
+figure of like bigness, lying as lies the figure at 
+Memphis. It was Amasis, too, who built the great 
+and most marvellous temple of Isis at Memphis. 
+
+177. It is said that in the reign of Amasis Egypt 
+attained to its greatest prosperity, in respect of what 
+
+
+491 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ποταμοῦ τῇ χώρῃ γινόμενα καὶ rà ἀπὸ τῆς χώρης 
+τοῖσι ἀνθρώποισι, καὶ πόλις ἐν αὐτῇ γενέσθαι τὰς 
+ἁπάσας τότε δισμυρίας τὰς οἰκεομένας. νόμον τε 
+Αἰγυπτίοισι τόνδε ” Αμασις ἐστὶ ὁ καταστήσας, 
+ἀποδεικνύναι ἔτεος ἑκάστου τῷ νομάρχη πάντα. 
+τινὰ Αἰγυπτίων ὅθεν βιοῦται μὴ δὲ ποιεῦντα 
+ταῦτα μηδὲ ἀποφαίνοντα δικαίην Conv ἰθύνεσθαι 
+θανάτῳ. Σόλων δὲ ὁ ᾿Αθηναῖος λαβὼν ἐξ Αἰγύ- 
+mrov τοῦτον. τὸν νόμον ᾿Αθηναίοισι ἔθετο τῷ 
+ἐκεῖνοι ἐς αἰεὶ χρέωνται ἐόντι ἀμώμῳ νόμῳ. 
+
+178. Φιλέλλην δὲ γενόμενος ὁ "Apacs ἄλλα τε 
+ἐς Ἑλλήνων μετεξετέρους ἀπεδέξατο, καὶ δὴ καὶ 
+τοῖσι ἀπικνευμένοισι ἐς Αἴγυπτον ἔδωκε Ναύκρα- 
+τιν πόλιν ἐνοικῆσαι' τοῖσι δὲ μὴ βουλομένοισι 
+αὐτῶν οἰκέειν, αὐτοῦ δὲ ναυτιλλομένοισι ἔδωκε 
+χώρους ἐνιδρύσασθαι βωμοὺς καὶ τεμένεα θεοῖσι. 
+τὸ μέν νυν μέγιστον αὐτῶν τέμενος, καὶ ὀνομασ- 
+τότατον ἐὸν καὶ χρησιμώτατον, καλεύμενον δὲ 
+Ἑλλήνιον, aide αἱ πόλιες εἰσὶ αἱ ἱδρυμέναι κοιν. 
+Ἰώνων μὲν Χίος καὶ Τέως καὶ Φώκαια καὶ KXato- 
+pevai, Δωριέων δὲ Ῥόδος καὶ Κνίδος καὶ Αλικαρ- 
+νησσὸς καὶ Φάσηλις, Αἰολέων δὲ ἡ Μυτιληναίων 
+μούνη. τουτέων μὲν ἐστὶ τοῦτο τὸ τέμενος, καὶ 
+προστάτας τοῦ ἐμπορίου αὗται αἱ πόλιες εἰσὶ 
+αἱ παρέχουσαι" ὅσαι δὲ ἄλλαι πόλιες µετα- 
+ποιεῦνται, οὐδέν σφι μετεὸν μεταποιεῦνται. χωρὶς 
+δὲ Αἰγινῆται ἐπὶ ἑωυτῶν ἱδρύσαντο τέμενος 
+Διός, καὶ ἄλλο Σάμιοι Ἥρης καὶ Μιλήσιοι Απόλ.- 
+λωνος. 
+
+179. Ἦν δὲ τὸ παλαιὸν μούνη Ναύκρατις ἐμ- 
+πόριον καὶ ἄλλο οὐδὲν Αἰγύπτου: εἰ δέ τις ἐς τῶν 
+τι ἄλλο στομάτων τοῦ Νείλου ἀπίκοιτο, χρῆν 
+
+
+492 
+
+
+BOOK IL. 177—179 
+
+
+the river did for the land and the land for its people : 
+and that the whole sum of inhabited cities in the 
+country was twenty thousand. It was Amasis also 
+who made the law that every Egyptian should yearly 
+declare his means of livelihood to the ruler of his 
+province, and, failing so to do or to prove that he had 
+a just way of life, be punished with death. Solon 
+the Athenian got this law from Egypt and established 
+it among his people ; may they ever keep it! for it is 
+a perfect law. 
+
+178. Amasis became a lover of the Greeks, and 
+besides other services which he did to some of them 
+he gave those who came to Egypt the city of 
+Naucratis to dwell in, and to those who voyaged 
+to the country without desire to settle there he gave 
+lands where they might set altars and make holy 
+places for their gods. Of these the greatest and 
+most famous and most visited precinct is that which 
+is called the Hellenion, founded jointly by the Ionian 
+cities of Chios, Teos, Phocaea, and Clazomenae, the 
+Dorian cities of Rhodes, Cnidus, Halicarnassus, and 
+Phaselis, and one Aeolian city, Mytilene. It is to 
+these that the precinct belongs, and these are they 
+that appoint wardens of the port ; if any others claim 
+rights therein they lay claim to that wherein they 
+have no part or lot. The Aeginetans made a precinct 
+of their own, sacred to Zeus; and so did the Samians 
+for Here and the Milesians for Apollo. 
+
+179. Naucratis was in old time the only trading 
+port in Egypt. Whosoever came to any other mouth 
+of the Nile must swear that he had not come of his 
+
+
+493 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὀμόσαι μὴ μὲν ἑκόντα ἐλθεῖν, ἀπομόσαντα δὲ τῇ 
+νηὶ αὐτῇ πλέειν ἐς τὸ Κανωβικόν" 5 εἰ μή ye olá 
+τε εἴη πρὸς ἀνέμους ἀντίους πλέειν, τὰ φορτία ἔδεε 
+περιάγειν ἐν βάρισι περὶ τὸ Δέλτα, μέχρι οὗ 
+ἀπίκοιτο ἐς Ναύκρατιν. οὕτω μὲν δὴ Ναύκρατις 
+ἐτετύμητο. 
+
+180. ᾿Αμϕικτυόνων δὲ μισθωσάντων τὸν ἐν Δελ- 
+φοῖσι νῦν ἐόντα νηὸν τριηκοσίων ταλάντων ἐξεργά- 
+σασθαι (ὁ γὰρ πρότερον ἐὼν αὐτόθι αὐτόματος 
+κατεκάη), τοὺς Δελφοὺς δὴ ἐπέβαλλε τεταρτη- 
+μόριον τοῦ μισθώματος παρασχεῖν. πλανώμενοι 
+δὲ οἱ Δελφοὶ περὶ τὰς πόλις ἐδωτίναξον, ποιεῦντες 
+δὲ τοῦτο οὐκ ἐλάχιστον ἐξ Αἰγύπτου ἠνείκαντο" 
+"Apacs μὲν yap σφι ἔδωκε χίλια στυπτηρίης 
+τάλαντα, οἱ δὲ ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ οἰκέοντες "Ελληνες 
+εἴκοσι μνέας. 
+
+181. Κυρηναίοισι δὲ Αµμασις φιλότητά τε καὶ 
+συμμαχίην συνεθήκατο, ἐδικαίωσε δὲ καὶ γῆμαι 
+αὐτόθεν, εἴτ᾽ ἐπιθυμήσας Ἑλληνίδος γυναικὸς εἴτε 
+καὶ ἄλλως φιλότητος Κυρηναίων εἵνεκα" γαμέει 
+δὲ ὧν oi μὲν λέγουσι Βάττου oi δ᾽ ᾿Αρκεσίλεω 
+θυγατέρα, οἳ δὲ Κριτοβούλου ἀνδρὸς τῶν ἀστῶν 
+δοκίμου, τῇ οὔνομα ἦν Λαδίκη᾽ τῇ ἐπείτε συγκλί- 
+νοιτο 0 ᾿Άμασις, μίσγεσθαι οὐκ οἷός τε ἐγίνετο, 
+τῇσι δὲ ἄλλῃσι γυναιξὶ ἐ ἐχρᾶτο. ἐπείτε δὲ πολλὸν 
+τοῦτο ἐγίνετο, εἶπε ὁ "Άμασις πρὸς τὴν Λαδίκην 
+ταύτην καλεομένην, “"Ὦ γύναι, κατά í pe ἐφάρμαξας, 
+καὶ ἔστι τοι οὐδεμία μηχανὴ μὴ οὐκ ἀπολωλέναι 
+κάκιστα γυναικῶν πασέων. ἡ δὲ Λαδίκη, ἐ ἐπείτε 
+οἱ ἀρνευμένῃ οὐδὲν ἐ ἐγίνετο πρηῦτερος ὁ " Άμασις, 
+εὔχεται ἐν τῷ νόῳ τῇ ᾿Αφροδίτη, ἤν οἱ ὑπ᾽ ἐκείνην 
+
+
+494 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΙ. 179-181 
+
+
+own will, and having so sworn must then take his 
+ship and sail to the Canobic mouth; or, if he could © 
+not sail against contrary winds, he must carry his 
+cargo in barges round the Delta till he came to 
+Naucratis. In such honour was Naucratis held. 
+
+180. When the Amphictyons had hired out for 
+three hundred talents the work of finishing the 
+temple that now stands at Delphi (that which was 
+formerly there having been burnt by pure mischance), 
+it fell to the Delphians to provide a fourth part of 
+the cost. They went about from city to city collect- 
+ing gifts, and in this business they got most from 
+Egypt; for Amasis gave them a thousand talents' 
+weight of astringent earth,! and the Greek dwellers 
+in Egypt twenty minae. 
+
+181. Amasis made friends and allies of the people 
+of Cyrene. Moreover he thought fit to take himself 
+a wife from thence ; whether it was that he desired 
+a Greek woman, or that he had other cause for 
+winning the friendship of Cyrene, I know not; but 
+he married one Ladice, said to be the daughter of 
+Battus by some, of Arcesilaus by others, and by 
+others again of Critobulus, an esteemed citizen of 
+the place. But it so fell out that Ladice was the 
+only woman with whom Amasis could not have inter- 
+course; and this continuing, Amasis said to this 
+Ladice, * Woman, you have cast a spell on me, and 
+most assuredly you shall come to a terrible end." 
+So, the king's anger not abating for all her denial, 
+Ladice vowed in her heart to Aphrodite that she 
+
+
+! Alum, apparently. | 
+405 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τὴν νύκτα μιχθῇ ὁ "Αμασις, τοῦτο γάρ οἱ κακοῦ 
+εἶναι μῆχος, ἀγαλμά οἱ ἀποπέμψειν ἐς Κυρήνην. 
+μετὰ δὲ τὴν εὐχὴν αὐτίκα οἱ ἐμίχθη ὁ Αμασις. 
+\ 9 ^ y e ? [4 x 
+
+καὶ τὸ ἐνθεῦτεν ἤδη, ὁκότε ἔλθοι "Αμασις πρὸς 
+αὐτήν, ἐμίσγετο, καὶ κάρτα μιν ἔστερξε μετὰ τοῦτο. 
+ἡ δὲ Λαδίκη ἀπέδωκε τὴν εὐχὴν τῇ θεῷ’ monoa- 
+μένη γὰρ ἄγαλμα ἀπέπεμψε ἐς Κυρήνην, τὸ ἔτι 
+καὶ ἐς ἐμὲ ἦν σόον, ἔξω τετραμμένον τοῦ Κυρηναίων 
+ἄστεος. ταύτην τὴν Λαδίκην, ὡς ἐπεκράτησε Καμ- 
+βύσης Αἰγύπτου καὶ ἐπύθετο αὐτῆς ἥτις εἴη, amé- 
+πεμψε ἀσινέα ἐς Κυρήνην. 
+
+189. ᾿Αγέθηκε δὲ καὶ ἀναθήματα ὁ " Άμασις ἐς 
+
+\ e / ^ A » / » 
+τὴν Ἑλλάδα, τοῦτο μὲν és Κυρήνην ἄγαλμα 
+ἐπίχρυσον ᾿Αθηναίης καὶ εἰκόνα ἑωυτοῦ γραφῇ 
+εἰκασμένην, τοῦτο δὲ τῇ ἐν Λίνδῳ ᾿Αθηναίῃ δύο τε 
+> / / N , / , ΄ 
+ἀγάλματα λίθινα καὶ θώρηκα λίνεον ἀξιοθέητον, 
+τοῦτο δ᾽ ἐς Σάμον τῇ "Ἡρῃ εἰκόνας ἑωυτοῦ διφασίας 
+ξυλίνας, αἳ ἐν τῷ νηῷ τῷ μεγάλῳ ἱδρύατο ἔτι καὶ 
+τὸ μέχρι ἐμεῦ, ὄπισθε τῶν θυρέων. ἐς μέν νυν Σάμον 
+ἀνέθηκε κατὰ ξεινίην τὴν ἑωυτοῦ τε καὶ Πολυκρά- 
+^ 97 2 , / N > ^ 
+
+τεος τοῦ Αἰάκεος, ἐς δὲ Λίνδον ξεινίης μὲν οὐδεμιῆς 
+t ο . «εν. \ 3 / . ^ , / 
+εἵνεκεν, ὅτι δὲ τὸ ἱρὸν τὸ ἐν Λίνδῳ τὸ τῆς ᾿Αθηναίης 
+λέγεται τὰς Δαναοῦ θυγατέρας ἱδρύσασθαι προσ- 
+σχούσας, ὅτε ἀπεδίδρησκον τοὺς Αἰγύπτου παῖδας. 
+ταῦτα μὲν ἀνέθηκε ὁ "Άμασις, εἷλε δὲ Κύπρον 
+
+^ ΄ , 
+πρῶτος ἀνθρώπων καὶ κατεστρέψατο ἐς φόρου 
+ἀπαγωγήν. 
+
+
+496 
+
+
+BOOK II. 181-182 
+
+
+would send the goddess a statue to Cyrene if Amasis 
+had intercourse with her that night; for that would 
+remedy the evil; and thereafter all went well, and 
+Amasis loved his wife much. Ladice paid her vow 
+to the goddess; she had an image made and sent it 
+to Cyrene, where it stood safe till my time, outside 
+the city. Cambyses, when he had conquered Egypt 
+and learnt who Ladice was, sent her away to Cyrene 
+unharmed. 
+
+182. Moreover Amasis dedicated offerings in 
+Hellas. He gave to Cyrene a gilt image of Athene 
+and a painted picture of himself, to Athene of Lindus 
+two stone images and a marvellous linen breast-plate 
+and to Here in Samos two wooden statues of himself, 
+which stood yet in my time behind the doors in the 
+great shrine. The offerings in Samos were dedicated 
+by reason of the friendship between Amasis and 
+Polycrates! son of Aeaces; what he gave to Lindus 
+was for no friendship with any man, but because it 
+is said that the temple of Athene in Lindus was 
+founded by the daughters of Danaus, when they landed 
+there in their flight from the sons of Egyptus. Such 
+were Amasis’ offerings. Moreover he was the first 
+conqueror of Cyprus, which he made tributary to 
+himself. 
+
+
+1 Polycrates’ rule began probably in 532 B.c. For the 
+friendship between him and Amasis, see iii. 39. 
+
+
+497 
+VOL, I. κκ 
+
+
+INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 
+
+
+Abae, 1. 46 
+Abantes, i. 146 
+Abdera, |. ΤΉΝ 
+Acarnan 
+
+
+- Aegira, |. 145 
+AE i 
+
+
+urn 
+AC lans, i. TN 2 IN 149-152, 
+157, 171; 6,23 
+Aeschylus, ài ΓΝ 
+Aesopus, ii. 1 
+Aeth opia M. ah, 28, 30, 110, 114, 
+189, 146, 161 
+
+
+Aethióplans ii, 29, 89, 30, 104, 
+
+
+197-14 
+Agamemnon, 1. 07 
+Agasicles, i. 144 
+Agba rr aa n 98, 110, 153 
+
+
+A gyllsel, i. 167 
+
+
+59 
+ποια d 61, 64 
+AA il. 43, 145 5 
+
+
+Alexandrus, 1. 3 ; ii. 119-117 
+Alitta, 1. 181 
+
+Alyattes, i. 16-25, 73, 74, 92, 93 
+Amasis, |. 181; fi, 154, 
+
+
+90, 
+161-103, 169, 172-176, 178, 182 
+Ammon, i. 46; p in 55 
+Ammonii, il. 32, 4 
+
+
+HEROD, I, 
+
+
+Amoun, il. 42 
+
+Amphiaraus, i. 46, 49, 62 
+
+Amphictyones, ii. 180 
+
+Amphilytus, i. 62 
+
+ο ο li. 43 
+Amyrtaeus, ii, 140 
+
+Amytheon, ii, 40 
+
+Anaxandrides, i. 67 
+
+Anthylla, ii, 08 
+
+Anysis, ii. 187, 140, 166 
+
+Apaturia, i. 147 
+
+Aphrodisium (Cyprian), i. 105 
+
+— (Egyptian), ii. 112 
+
+NUS: 1.105, 181, 199; iij. 41, 
+
+
+. 50, 59, wx %7, 91, 144: 
+
+
+Apries, ii. 161, 169 
+Arabia, ti. 8 12, 15, 19, 72, 124, 168 
+Arabian Guif, ii. 11, 102, 158 
+Arabes, : 131, 1 ee 
+Araxes, Í. 909, 9 
+Arcades, 1. 66, 108 
+Archandrus ii, 0 
+Archidice, il. 195" 
+Archilochus, i. 12 
+PAETA 185 
+Ardys, i 
+Ares, li, 6 4, 88 
+Argauthonlus 1. 163, 165 
+Argivi, i. 82 
+Argos, |. 1 i. E. 
+
+Argos, | 
+
+Arion, i. C "ea 
+Arisb 
+Aristo pi L 168, 159 
+Ariston, i. 67 
+Arizanti, i. 101 
+Armenii, i. 194 
+Arsames, 1. 209 
+
+
+hae 171 
+
+
+499 
+
+
+INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 
+
+
+— Artembares, i. 114-116 
+Arte 
+
+
+mis, 1. 26 ; 11. 59, 60, 83, 137, 
+Aryenis, 1. s 
+Ascalon, 1.1 
+ΡΝ Lob ὅ o2, 104, 180; il. 17, 
+
+
+ο. 
+
+
+19 
+λος E 178, 192, 193 ; ii. 17 
+Assyrii, b lo ; 1,9 96, i 1 2, 108, 106, 178, 
+
+
+Ast NI 46, 7 vet, 80, 141, 36 
+ges 
+138, 127 77-190, 189 5 
+
+
+"c πα 
+
+
+ens y 105, Ata). P 29, 67-64, 
+: i. 5 
+Athribites, ii. 166 
+Atlantic 
+
+
+1, 200 
+Atys (son o Croesus, 
+
+
+ii. 49 
+Bolbitine mouth of Nile, it. 17 
+Branchidae, 1, 46, 92, 157, 158; ΙΙ. 
+
+
+Dun des ii. 59, 187, 156, 106 
+Bu 1 
+
+
+Bubassia, i. 17 
+
+
+Cadmel, ii. 45, 49 
+Cadytis, ii. 150 
+ος 
+
+
+Cam 
+
+byan 111, 122 
+— (Cyrus’ a» 208; 1.1 
+Camirus, |. 1 
+Candaules, 1. b 8, 10-129 
+
+
+500 
+
+
+Canobic mouth of Nile, il. 15, 17, 
+113, 179 
+
+Canobus, ii. 15, 97 
+
+Cappadocia, i. 71-73, 76 
+
+Carians, i, 28, 92, 142, 146, 171, 
+174; ii. 61, 18 154, 163 
+
+Carthaginians, i. 166, 167 
+
+Casian mountain, li. 6, 158 
+
+Caspian, i. 20 208 
+
+Cassandane, ii. 1 
+
+Catadupa, il. 17 
+
+Caucasus, i. 104, 203, 204 
+
+Caucones, i. 147 
+
+Caunii, i. 172, 176 
+tae, ii. 33 
+
+Cercasorus, ii. 15, 17, 97 
+
+Chalybes, Í. 28 
+
+Charaxus, ii. 135 
+
+Chemmis, fi fi. 91, 156, 165 
+
+, i. 124, 126, 127, 129 
+
+Chep en, ii. 127, 128 
+
+
+Chilon, i. 59 
+
+Chios, i. Ἴ8, 142, 160; il. 135, 178 
+Choaspes, i. 188 
+
+Chromius, i. 82 
+
+Cilicia, i iy 72; ii. 17, 84 
+
+
+Cilla, {. 14 149 
+Cimmerii, i. 6, 15, 16, 103 
+
+
+Clazomenae, |. 16, 142; ii. 178 
+Cleobis, i. 3 
+
+Cnidus, 1. i44, 174 ; li. 178 
+Codrus, 1. 1 
+
+
+147 
+Colchi, i. ae ii. 105, 109 
+Colophon, 1 4, 14 42 
+Corinth, 1. 14, 193, 24, 50, 51; fi. 167 
+Cos, i. 1 144 
+
+
+Crathis, i. 145 
+
+Creston, i. 57 
+
+Crete, i. 2, 2n 172-173 
+
+Croesus, i. 7 et passim ap. |. 
+Crophi, ii. 28 
+
+Cume, i. 149, 157 
+
+Cyaxares, i. 16, 46, 73, 103, 106 
+Cynesii, ii. 33 
+
+Cyprus, i. 72, 105, 199: ii. 79, 182 
+Cypselus, |. 14, 20, 23 
+
+Cyrene, t 32, 33, 161, 181, 182 
+Cyrnus, i . 165-167 
+
+Cyrus, 1. : is et passim ap. L 
+Cythera, i. 82, 105 
+
+
+Dai, i. 225 
+
+Danaé, ii. 91 
+Danaus, ii. 91, 98 
+Daphnae, ii. 80, 107 
+
+
+INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 
+
+
+Dardanians, i. 189 
+
+
+Darius, i. 183, 187, 209, 210; - 158 
+ascylus, |. 
+Delos, 1. 
+
+
+Ex i, 13, 14, 19, 20, 25, 46-48, 
+507, 85, 92, 167, 174; 
+
+
+123, ΛΚ 45 56 
+Dioscuri, fi. 43, 60 
+Dodona, i. 46; ii. 52, 55, 57, 58 
+Dorians . 66, 57, 189, 146, 171; 
+
+ii. ΠΤ 
+Dorus, 1. 56 
+Drop 1 125 
+Dryopes, 1. 66, 146 
+Dyme, t. 146 
+
+
+Echinades, ii, 10 
+Elbo, ii. 140 
+Eleans, ii, 160 
+Piephantine, il, 9, 17, 28, 69, 175 
+Eleusis, i 
+Eneti i 196 
+paphus, ii. 38, 1 
+DUE" ἡ 92, 142; ii. 10, 148 
+Ere 1. 61, 62 
+
+
+Euphorion, fi. 1 
+
+Euphrates, $. 180, 185, 186, 191, 198 
+
+Europe, 1. 4, 103, 209 ; ii. 16, 26, 
+33 τ 5 “daughter ‘of Agenor), 
+
+
+i 2, 17 
+
+
+Germanii, 1, 125 
+
+Glaucus (of Chios), i 
+
+— (son o Eppolochus), 1 147 
+Gordias, 1. 14, 85, 45 
+
+
+Greate d 189, 190, 202 
+
+
+` Halicarnassus, i. 144, 176; 1i. 178 
+
+- Halys, 1. 6, 28, 72, 75, 108, 130 
+
+Harpagus, i. 80, 108-110, 118, 119, 
+123, ob 102. 169, 171-176 
+
+
+Hecataeus, ii, 145 
+
+Hector, 1i. 1 Hoz 
+
+Hegesicles, i. 6 
+
+Helena, i. 3; iL 112, 118, 115-120 
+
+Helice, i. 145 
+
+Heliopolis, ii. 3, 7-9, 69, 63, 73 
+
+Hellas, Hellenes, passim 
+
+Hephaestopolis, li. 184 
+
+Hephaestus, ii. 3, 99, 101, 108, 110, 
+το is 186, 141, 142, 147, 151, 
+
+
+Heracles, i. 7 ; 1. 33, 42-44, 83, 113 
+Heraclidae, L 1 19, 91 
+Heraclides, 1. 1 
+
+Here, 1. 81, 70; il. ae 
+
+Hermes, ii. 51, 138, 
+
+Hermotybies, ἯΙ, led Tas, 168 
+Hermuis, 1. [us d 
+
+Herodotus, i 
+ρα 61 iL οὖ 
+
+
+Hippocrates, I 59 
+ppolochus, 1. 147 
+
+Hie a, ii. 60 
+
+Histiaeotis, 1. 56 
+
+Homer, il. 23, 58, 116, 117 
+
+Hyela, 1. 167 
+
+Hyllus, 1. 80 
+
+Hyroeades, 1. 84 
+
+Hystaspes, 1. 183, 209 
+
+
+n i, tot b. il. 41 
+onians passim 
+
+
+179 
+d 41, 42, 59, 61, 122, 123, 156, 
+
+
+Issedones, 1. 2 
+Ister, 1. 202; i. 106, 98, 84 
+
+
+Istria, ii. 33° 
+talla, i. 24, 146 
+
+
+Labynetus, 1. 74 es S s 
+Lacedaemon, i. 6, 6 
+Lacrines, 1. 152 
+
+Ladice, ii. 181 
+Lebedus, 1. 142 
+Leleges, 1. 171 
+
+
+σοι 
+
+
+INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 
+
+
+Leobotes, 1. 65 
+
+Leon, 1. 65 
+
+Lesbos, i. 161, 160, 202 . 
+
+Libya (and Libyans), i. 46; ii. 8, 
+12, 15-18, 20, 22, 21-26, 32, 
+50, he rk 77, 91, 99, 124, 
+
+
+Liches, i. 67, 68 
+
+Lide, 1, Ho EC 
+Limeneum, i 
+
+Lindus, i. τη δ 182 
+Linus, ii, 79 
+
+Loxias, 1. 91 
+
+Lycia, i. 28, 147, 171, 178, 176, 182 
+Lycurgus, 1 65, 66 
+Lycus, |. 
+
+Lydia, passin ap. |. 
+Lydus, i. 7, 171 
+Lynceus, it. 91 
+
+
+Macedni, 1. 56 
+
+Macrones, il. 104 
+
+Madyes, i. 108 
+
+Maeander, ii. 29 
+
+Maeetis, |. 104 
+
+Magdolus, fi, 159 
+
+Magi, 1.101, 107, 108, 120, 128, 132, 
+
+140 
+
+
+Magnesia, 1. 161 
+
+Maleae, 1. 82 
+
+Mandane, i. 107, 108, 111 
+
+Maneros, 1i. 
+
+Manes, i. 94 
+
+Maraphii, i. 125 
+
+Marathon, i. 62 
+
+Mardi, i. 125 
+
+Marea, ff. 18, 30 
+
+Mariandyni, 1. 28 
+
+Maspil, i. 125 
+
+Massagetae, 1 201, 204, 208, 211, 
+212, 214-216 
+
+Matienl, 1. 72, 202 
+
+Mazares, |. 156, 107 160, 161 
+
+Medea, 1. 2, 
+
+M fedians, 1. 16, et passim ap. i. 
+
+Megacles, 1. 59, 61 
+
+Megarians, i. 59 
+
+Meli, 1. 7 
+
+Melampus, ii. 49 
+
+Melant ro i. 147 
+
+Meles, 1. 8 
+
+Memphis, ή 8, 8, 10, 12-14, 97, 99, 
+115, 115, 119, 150, 165, 154, 158, 
+175, 17 
+
+
+502 
+
+
+Mendes, ii. 42, 46, 145 
+
+Menelaus, ii. 113, 116, 118, 119 
+
+Mermnadae, i. 7, 14 
+
+Meroe, ii. 29 
+
+Methymna, i. 151 
+
+Midas, 1. 14, 35 
+
+Miletus, i. 14, 15, 17, 18, 20, 22, 25, 
+oe, 142, 143, 146, 169; ii. 33, 
+159, 178 
+
+Milyae, i. 173 
+
+Min, ii. 4, 99 
+
+Mie i. 171, 178 
+
+Minyae, i. 146 
+
+Mitra, i. 131 
+
+Mitradates, i. 110, 111, 121 
+
+Moeris (lake), ii. 4, 69, 148, 149 
+
+— (King), ii. 13, 101 
+
+Mophi, ii. 28 
+
+Mycale, i. 148 
+
+Mycerinus, li. 129-133, 186 
+
+Myecphorite district, ii. 166 
+
+Mylasa, i. 171 
+
+Mylitta, i. 131, 199 
+
+Myrina, i. 149° 
+
+Myrsilus, 1. 7 
+
+Myrsus, 1. 7 
+
+Mysians, i. 28, ME eh 160, 171 
+
+Mytilene, 1. 160; 135 
+
+Myus, i. 142 
+
+
+Nasamones, il. 32, 33 
+
+Nathos, fi. 165 
+
+Naucratis, il. 97, 135, 178-180 
+
+Naxos, i. 6 
+
+Necos, ii. 152, 158, 159 
+
+N ilus, ii. passim. 
+
+Ninus (King), i. 7 ; ii. 150 
+
+— (city), i. 102, 103, 106, 178, 185, 
+193 ; ii. 150 
+
+Nisaea, i. 59 
+
+Nitocris (of Egypt), ii. 100 
+
+— (of Babylon), i. 185; ii. 100 
+
+Notium, i. 149 
+
+Nysa, ii. 146 
+
+
+Oenotria, i. 167 
+
+Oenussae, i. 165 
+
+Oeolycus, i. 149 
+
+Olenus, i. 145 
+
+Olympia, i. 59, 160 
+
+Olympus m aie: i. 56; (in 
+Mysia), i. 36, 43 
+
+ο ο ο. district, fi. 166 
+
+Opis, 1. 1 
+
+
+INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 
+
+
+Orchomenus, i. 16, 146 
+
+Orestes, i. 67, 63 
+
+Orphica, ii. 81 
+
+Orus, ii. 144 
+
+Osiris, if. 42, 47-48, 123, 144-146, 
+
+
+re i. 56 
+Othryades, i. 89 
+
+
+Pactyes, 1. 153-161 
+
+Palestine, i. 105; ii. 104, 106 
+Pamphylians, i, 28 
+
+Pan, ii. 46, 145, 146 
+Pandion, i. 173 
+
+Panionia, f. 148 
+
+Panionium, i, 141-148, 148, 170 
+Panormus, i. 157 
+Pantaleon, i, 92 
+
+Panthialaet, $. 125 
+Paphlagonians, i. 6, 28, 72 
+Papremis, ii. 59, 63, 71, 165 
+Paretaceni, i. 101 
+Parthenius, ii, 104 
+Pasargadae, i. 125 
+
+Patara, i. 189 
+
+Patarbemis, ii. 165 
+Patrees, i. 145 
+
+Pedasus, 1. 175 
+
+
+Pelasgians, 1 56-58, 146; 11. M. 
+
+
+Pellene, i. 145 
+
+Peloponnesus, i. 56, 61, 68 ; if. 171 
+
+Petusium, fi. 15, 17, 36, 141, 151 
+
+Penelope, ii. 145, 146 
+
+Pentapolis, i. 144 
+
+Periander, i. 20, 23, 24 
+
+Perseus, ii. 15, δι 
+
+Persians, passim ap. i, 
+
+Pharees, i. 145 
+
+Pharnaspes, ii. 1 
+
+Phaselis, íi. 178 
+
+Phasis, i. 2, 104 ; if. 103 
+
+Pheros, fi. 111 
+
+Philition, ii. 128 
+
+Phocaea, i. 80, 142, 152, 162, 164, 
+
+. 166, 168 ; ii. 100, 1 178 
+
+Phocians, 1. 46, 146 
+
+Phoenice and Phoenicians, i. 1, 2, 
+5, 105, 143; ii. 32, 44, 49, '54, 
+56, 79, 104, 112, 116 
+
+Phraortes, i. 73, 96, 102 
+
+Phrygians, i. 14, 28, 85, 72; ii. 2 
+
+Phthiotis, 1. 66 
+
+Phya, i. 60 
+
+
+Pindus, i. 56 
+
+Pirus, i. 145 
+
+Pb 4 i. 59-64 
+isistratus, 
+
+Pitane, 1. 149 
+
+Pittacus, 1. 27 
+
+Placie, i. 57 
+
+Poseidon, i. 148 ; ii. 48, 50 
+
+Poseidonia, i. 167 
+
+Priam, i. 3, 4; ii. 120 
+
+Priene, 1. 15 142. 161 
+
+Prosopitis, il. 41, 105 
+
+Proteus, ii. 112, 114-116, 118, 121 
+
+Protothyes, i. 103 
+
+Psammetichus, ii i. 2, 28, 80, 151- 
+156, 157, 158, 16 
+
+Psammis, ii. 160 
+
+Pteria, i. 76 
+
+Pylians, 1. 147 
+
+Pyrene, ii. 33 
+
+Pythermus, |, 159 
+
+Pythian priestess, |. 13, 19, 47, 49, 
+55, 65-67, 85, 91, 167, 174 
+
+Pytho, 1.54 
+
+
+Rhampsinitus, fi, 121, 122, 124 
+Rhegium, 1. 166, 167 
+Rhodes, i. 174; "il. 178 
+Rhodopis, 1l. 134, 135 
+Rhypes, i. 145 
+
+
+Sabacos, T ανν 159 
+
+Sacae, 1. 1 
+
+Sagactil, E εδ. 
+
+Sats, ii. 28, 59, 62, 130, 163, 109, 
+170, 175, 176 
+
+Samos, i. 70, 142, 148, 152; il. 148, 
+168, 178, 182 
+
+Samothracians, ii. 51 
+
+ο. il, 141 
+
+Sandanis, i 
+
+Sappho, ΠΝ 136 
+
+Sardanapallus, fi. 150 
+
+Sardis, i. 7, 15, 69, 70, 73, 77-79, 
+80, 84, 85, 141, 152-157 ; ii. 106 
+
+Sardo, i. 166, 170 
+
+Sardyattes, i. 16, 18 
+
+Sarpedon, i. 173 
+
+Saspires, i. 104 
+
+Scamandronymus, ff. 135 
+
+Scylace, i. 5 
+
+Scythia and Scythians 2 Pu. ὧν 
+ih er a 130; ii, 22, 1 
+
+
+0, 
+
+
+593 
+
+
+INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 
+
+
+Sebennytic were li, 17, 155, 166 
+Semiramis, i. 184 
+
+Semele, ii. 145, 146 
+
+Serbonian M: 
+
+
+arsh, ii. 6 
+Sesostris, il, 102-104, 106-108, 110, 
+111, 137 
+
+
+Sethos, il. 141 
+Sidon, i [n Md 
+imb, i 1 : 
+
+
+Smyma, l: ΚΗ 16, 94, 143, 149, 150 ; 
+
+
+i. 
+
+Solo£is, ii. 31 
+
+Solon, i. 20-34, 86 ; ii. 177 
+Solymi, i. 173 
+Spargapises, | 211, 213 
+
+
+Syrtis, il. 32, 1 150 
+
+
+Tabalus, i. 154, 161 
+Tachompso, 11. 29 
+Taenarum, i, 29, 24 
+Tanite ve district, ii, 166 
+
+
+. 30 
+Teos, i. 142, 168, 170; il. 178 
+Telmessians, i. 78, 84 
+Temnus, i. 149 
+
+
+Tenedos, i. 151 
+Teucri, ii. 118 
+
+
+Thales, i. n 75, 170 
+
+Thasos, fi. 4 
+
+Thebes (Botctian), i. 52, td 
+
+— (Egyptian), i. 182; ii. 3, 9, 15, 
+54—56, 58, 69, 74, 91, τῷ 166 
+
+iterate i. 51 
+
+Thermodon, fi. 104 
+
+Thesmophoria, ii. 171 
+
+Thessalia, i. 57 
+
+Thmuitan district, ii. 166 
+
+Thonis, ii. 113, 114 
+
+Thornax, i. 69 
+
+Thrace, i. 168; ii. 103, 184, 167 
+
+Thrasybulus, i. 20-23 
+
+Thyni, i. a 
+
+Thyrea, i 
+
+Tigris, κ 189, 193 ; ii. 150 
+
+Timarete, ii. 55 
+
+Timesius, i. 168 
+
+Tmolus, 1. 84, 93 
+
+Tomyris, i. 205, 212, 214 
+
+Triopium, i. 144, 174 
+
+Tritaeees, i. 145 
+
+TURO ee i. 192 
+
+Troés, ii. 
+
+
+Tyrrhenians, 1. 57, 94, 165, 166, 169 
+
+
+Xanthes, fi. 135 
+Xanthus, i. 176 
+Xerxes, i. 183 
+
+
+Zeus, passim, 
+
+
+Printed in Great Britfin by 
+Butler & Tanner Ltd., Frome and London 
+
+
+This is a reproduction of a library book that was digitized 
+by Google as part of an ongoing effort to preserve the 
+information in books and make it universally accessible. 
+
+
+Google books 
+
+
+https://books.google.com 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+“WITH AN ENGLISH TRANSLATION BY 
+A. D. GODLEY 
+
+
+HON, FELLOW OF MAGDALEN COLLEGE, OXFORD 
+
+
+IN FOUR VOLUMES 
+II 
+
+
+BOOKS III AND IV 
+
+
+LONDON : WILLIAM HEINEMANN 
+NEW YORK : G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
+MCMXXI 
+
+
+è 
+Ἕν 
+
+
+CONTENTS 
+
+
+PAGE 
+
+INTRODUCTION TO BOOKS III AND IV . . . . . . . . vii 
+
+BOOK Il. . . . . . . . SU E A 1 
+
+BOOK IV ooo a Tm 197 
+
+INDEX OF PROPER NAMES . . .. . . ... .. «ο 409 
+MAPS :— | 
+
+1. The Persian Empire ...........-. At end 
+
+
+2. The World According to Herodotus. . . . . | 
+
+
+ν 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO BOOKS IIl 
+AND IV 
+
+
+Ἡκποροτύθ narrative in the Third Book of his 
+history is extremely discursive and episodic. It 
+may be briefly summarised as follows :— 
+
+Chapters 1 to 38 deal in the main with Cambyses. 
+They relate the Persian invasion and conquest of 
+Egypt, Cambyses' abortive expedition against the 
+Ethiopians, and the sacrilegious and cruel acts of the 
+last part of his reign. The section 38-60 begins 
+with an account of Polycrates of Samos, and his 
+relations with Amasis of Egypt, and continues with 
+a narrative of Polycrates war against his banished 
+subjects. The fact that these latter were aided not 
+only by Spartans but by Corinthians serves to intro- 
+duce the story of the domestic feuds of Periander, 
+despot of Corinth. Chapter 61 resumes the story of 
+Cambyses; the Magian usurpation of the Persian 
+throne, Cambyses' death, the counterplot against 
+and ultimate overthrow of the pseudo-Smerdis and 
+his brother by seven Persian conspirators, and the 
+accession of Darius—all this is narrated with much 
+
+
+vii 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO BOOKS III AND IV 
+
+
+picturesque and dramatic detail in twenty-eight 
+chapters (61-88). Then follows a list of Darius 
+tributary provinces (88-97), supplemented by various 
+unconnected details relating to Arabia and India 
+(98-117) The next thirty-two chapters (118-149) 
+narrate various events in the early part of Darius’ 
+reign: the fate of Polycrates of Samos; the insolence 
+and death of his murderer Oroetes ; how Democedes, 
+a Samian physician, rose to power at the Persian 
+court and was sent with a Persian commission to 
+reconnoitre Greek coasts; how Polycrates’ brother 
+Syloson regained with Persian help the sovereignty 
+of Samos. Lastly, chapters 150-160 describe the 
+revolt and second capture of Babylon. 
+
+Book IV begins with the intention of describing 
+Darius’ invasion of Scythia, and the subject of more — 
+than two-thirds of.the book is Scythian geography 
+and history. Chapters 1-15 deal with the legendary 
+origin of the Scythians; 16-31, with the population 
+of the country and the climate of the far north ; this 
+leads to a disquisition on the Hyperboreans and 
+their alleged commerce with the Aegean (32-36), 
+and (37-45) a parenthetic section, showing the rela- 
+tion to each other of Europe, Asia, and Libya. The 
+story of a circumnavigation of Libya forms part of 
+this section. Chapters 46-58 enumerate the rivers 
+of Scythia, and 59-82 describe its manners and 
+customs. 
+
+Darius' passage of the Hellespont and the Danube is 
+
+
+viii 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO BOOKS III AND IV 
+
+
+narrated in chapters 83-98. Chapters 99-117 are once 
+more parenthetic, describing first the general outline 
+of Scythia, and next giving some details as to neigh- 
+bouring tribes, with the story of the Amazons. From 
+118 to 144 Herodotus professes to relate the move- 
+ments of the Persian and Scythian armies, till Darius 
+returns to the Danube and thence to Asia again. 
+
+The Libyan part of the book begins at 145. 
+Twenty-three chapters (145—167) give the history 
+of Cyrene, its colonisation from Greece and the 
+fortunes of its rulers till the time of Darius, when it 
+was brought into contact with Persia by the appeal 
+of its exiled queen Pheretime to the Persian governor 
+of Egypt, who sent an army to recover Cyrene for 
+her. The thirty-two following chapters (168-199) 
+are a detailed description of Libya: 168-180, the 
+Libyan seaboard from Egypt to the Tritonian lake; 
+181-190, the sandy ridge inland stretching (accord- 
+ing to Herodotus) from Thebes in Egypt to the 
+Atlas; 191-199, in the main, Libya west of the 
+“ Tritonian lake." Αἱ chapter 200 the story of 
+Pheretime is resumed and the capture of Barce 
+described. The book ends with the death of 
+Pheretime and the disastrous return to Egypt of her 
+Persian allies. 
+
+
+The above brief abstract shows that Book IV, at 
+least, is full of geography and ethnology. It is, I 
+believe, generaly held that Herodotus himself 
+
+
+ix 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO BOOKS III AND IV 
+
+
+visited the Cyrenaica and the northern coasts of the 
+Black Sea, where the Greek commercial centre was 
+the * port of the Borysthenites," later called Olbia; 
+but there is no real evidence for or against such 
+visits. The point is not very important. If he did 
+not actually go to Cyrene or Olbia he must at least 
+have had opportunities of conversing with Greeks 
+resident in those places. These, the only informants 
+whose language he could understand, no doubt sup- 
+plied him with more or less veracious descriptions 
+of the “hinterlands” of their cities; and possibly 
+there may have been some documentary evidence— 
+records left by former travellers. Whatever Hero- 
+dotus' authorities—and they must have been highly 
+miscellaneous —they take him farther and farther 
+afield, to the extreme limits of knowledge or report. 
+
+As Herodotus in description or speculation ap- 
+proaches what he supposes to be the farthest con- 
+fines of north and south, it is natural that he should 
+also place on record his conception of the geography 
+of the world —a matter in which he professes himself 
+to be in advance of the ideas current in his time. 
+There were already, it would appear, maps in those 
+days. According to Herodotus, they divided the 
+world into three equal parts — Europe, Asia, Libya ; 
+the whole surrounded by the “ Ocean,’ which was 
+still apparently imagined, as in Homer, to be a 
+* river" into which ships could sail from the sea 
+known to the Greeks. Possibly, as has been 
+
+
+X 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO BOOKS III AND IV 
+
+
+suggested by moderns, this idea of an encircling river 
+may have originated in the fact that to north, south, 
+and east great rivers ran in the farthest lands known 
+to: Greeks: the Nile in the south (and if it could be 
+made to run partly from west to east, so much the 
+better for the belief that it was a boundary), the 
+Danube in the north, the Euphrates in the east; in 
+the west, of course, the untravelled waters outside the 
+* Pillars of Hercules" fitted into the scheme. But 
+whether the legend of an encircling stream had a 
+rational basis or not, Herodotus will have none of 
+it. The Greeks, he says, believe the world to be sur- 
+rounded by the Ocean; but they cannot prove it. 
+The thing, to him, is ridiculous; as is also the neat 
+_tripartite division of the world into three continents 
+of equal extent. His own scheme is different. 
+Taking the highlands of Persia as a base, he makes 
+Asia a peninsula stretching westward, and Libya 
+another great peninsula south-westward ; northward 
+and alongside of the two is the vast tract called 
+Europe. This latter, in his view, is beyond com- 
+parison bigger than either Asia or Libya; its length 
+from east to west is at least equal to the length of 
+the other two together; and while there are at 
+least traditions of the circumnavigation of Libya, 
+and some knowledge of seas to the south and east 
+of Asia, Europe stretches to the north in tracts of 
+illimitable distance, the very absence of any tale of 
+a northern boundary tending in itself to prove 
+
+
+xi 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO BOOKS III AND IV 
+
+
+enormous extent. The lands north and south of 
+the Mediterranean have each its great river; and 
+Herodotus has already in the Second Book en- 
+deavoured to show that there is a kind of corre- 
+spondence between the Nile and the Danube. He, 
+too, like the geographers with whom he disagrees, 
+is obsessed, in the absence of knowledge, by a desire 
+for symmetry. The Nile, he is convinced, flows for 
+a long way across the country of the Ethiopians from 
+west to east before it makes a bend to the north 
+and flows thus through Egypt. So the Danube, too, 
+rises in the far west of Europe, in the country of 
+* Pyrene”; and as the Nile eventually turns and 
+flows northward, so the Danube, after running for 
+a long way eastward, makes an abrupt turn south- 
+ward to flow into the Black Sea. Thus the Medi- 
+terranean countries, southern Europe and northern 
+Africa, are made to lie within what the two rivers— 
+their mouths being regarded as roughly “ opposite ” 
+to each other, in the same longitude—make into a 
+sort of interrupted parallelogram. 
+
+Such is the scheme of the world with which 
+Herodotus incidentally presents us. But his real 
+concern in the Fourth Book is with the geography 
+of Libya and Scythia—northern Africa and southern 
+Russia; in both cases the description is germane to 
+his narrative, its motive being, in each, a Persian 
+expedition into the country. 
+
+Critics of the Odyssey have sometimes been at 
+
+
+xii 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO BOOKS III AND IV 
+
+
+? 
+
+
+pains to distinguish its “inner” from its ‘outer’ 
+geography—the inner true and real, the outer a 
+world of mere invention and fairy tale. There is 
+no such distinction really; Greeks do not invent 
+fairy tales; there are simply varying degrees of 
+certitude. Greek geographical knowledge contem- 
+poraneous with the composition of the Odyssey being 
+presumably confined within very narrow limits, the 
+frontiers of the known are soon passed, and the poet 
+launches out into a realm not of invention, but of 
+reality dimly and imperfectly apprehended—a world 
+of hearsay and travellers’ tales, no doubt adorned 
+in' the Homeric poem with the colours of poetry. 
+Homer is giving the best that he knows of current 
+information—not greatly troubled in his notices of 
+remote countries by inconsistencies, as when he 
+describes Egypt once as a four or five days' sail from 
+Crete, yet again as a country so distant that even a 
+bird will take more than a year to reach it. Hero- 
+dotus' method is as human and natural as Homer's. 
+Starting, of course, from a very much wider extent 
+of geographical knowledge, he passes from what he 
+has seen to what he knows at first hand from 
+Cyrenaean or Borysthenite evidence; thence into 
+more distant regions, about which his informants 
+have been told; and so on, the accuracy of his 
+statements obviously diminishing (and not guaran- 
+teed by himself) as the distance increases, till at 
+last in farthest north—farthest, that is, with the 
+
+
+xiii 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO BOOKS HI AND IV 
+
+
+possible exception of “ Hyperboreans," about whom 
+nobody knows anything—he is in the country of 
+the griffins who guard gold and pursue the one-eyed 
+Arimaspian; and in the south, among the men 
+who have no heads, and whose eyes are in their 
+breasts. 
+
+It happens sometimes that the stories which have 
+reached Herodotus from very distant lands and seas, 
+and which he duly reports without necessarily stating 
+his belief in them, do in truth rest on a basis of actual 
+fact. Thus one of the strongest arguments for the 
+truth of the story of a circumnavigation of Libya is 
+the detail, mentioned but not believed by Herodotus, 
+that the sailors, when sailing west at the extreme 
+limit of their voyage, saw the sun on their right 
+hand. Thus also the story of Hyperborean com- 
+munication with Delos is entirely in harmony with 
+ascertained fact. Whatever be the meaning of 
+* Hyperborean," a term much discussed by the 
+learned (Herodotus certainly understands the name 
+to mean “living beyond the north wind"), the 
+people so named must be located in northern 
+Europe; and the Delos story, however imaginative 
+in its details, does at least illustrate the known 
+existence of trade routes linking the northern parts 
+of our continent with the Aegean. To such an 
+extent Herodotus' tales of the uttermost parts of 
+the earth are informative. But with such exceptions, 
+as one would naturally expect, it is true that as a 
+
+
+xiv 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO BOOKS III AND IV 
+
+
+general rule the farther from home Herodotus is 
+the farther also he is from reality. 
+
+It follows from this that in proportion as Hero- 
+dotus’ narrative of events is distant from the Greek 
+world and his possible sources of information, so 
+"much the more is it full, for us, of geographical 
+difficulties. It is probable that, as he tells us, 
+.** Scythians" did at some time or other invade the 
+
+Black Sea coasts and dispossess an earlier population 
+of ** Cimmerians," whom, perhaps, they pursued into 
+Asia. The bare fact may be so; but Herodotus' 
+description of the way in which it happened cannot 
+be reconciled with the truths of geography. The 
+whole story is confused; the Cimmerians could 
+not have fled along the coast of the Black Sea, as 
+stated by Herodotus; it would, apparently, have 
+been a physical impossibility. In such cases the 
+severer school of critics were sometimes tempted to 
+dismiss an entire narrative as a parcel of lies. More 
+charitable, moderns sometimes do their best to bring 
+the historian's detailed story into some sort of har- 
+mony with the map, by emendation of the text or 
+otherwise. But if the former method was unjust, 
+the latter is wasted labour. There is surely but one 
+conclusion to draw, and a very obvious one: that 
+Herodotus was misinformed as to geographical con- 
+ditions. Ignorance lies at the root of the matter. 
+Herodotus had not the geographical equipment for 
+describing the movements of tribes on the north 
+
+
+XV 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO BOOKS III AND IV 
+
+
+coast of the Black Sea, any more than our best 
+authorities of sixty years ago had for describing 
+tribal wanderings in Central Africa. 
+
+Even worse difficulties would confront the enter- 
+prising critic who should attempt to deal with Darius' 
+marchings and counter-marchings in Scythia as matter 
+for serious investigation. Herodotus’ story is, with 
+regard to its details of time, plainly incredible; a 
+great army could not conceivably have covered any- 
+thing like the alleged distance in the alleged time. 
+It must, apparently, be confessed that there are 
+moments when the Father of History is supra 
+geographiam— guilty of disregarding it when he did, 
+as appears from other parts of the Fourth Book, 
+know something of Scythian distances. The dis- 
+regard may be explained, if not excused. Hero- 
+dotus is seldom proof against the attractions of a 
+Moral Tale. Given an unwieldy army of invaders, 
+vis consili expers, and those invaders the natural 
+enemies of Hellas,—and given also the known 
+evasive tactics of Scythian warfare,—there was ob- 
+viously a strong temptation to make a picturesque 
+narrative, in which overweening power should 
+be tricked, baffled, and eventually saved only by a 
+hairs breadth from utter destruction at a supremely 
+dramatic moment. So strong, we may suppose, was 
+the temptation that Herodotus put from him con- 
+siderations of time and distance, in the probably not 
+unjustified expectation that his Greek readers or 
+
+
+xvi 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO BOOKS III AND IV 
+
+
+hearers would not trouble themselves much about 
+such details. In short, it must be confessed that 
+Herodotus' reputation as a serious historian must 
+rest on other foundations than his account of Darius' 
+Scythian campaign.! 
+
+Herodotus' list of the tribute-paying divisions of 
+the Persian Empire is not a geographical document. 
+Obviously it is drawn from some such source as the 
+three extant inscriptions (at Behistun, Persepolis, and 
+Naksh-i-Rustam) in which Darius enumerated the 
+constituent parts of his empire; but it differs from 
+these in that the numerical order of the units 
+is not determined by their local position. It has 
+indeed geographical importance in so far as the 
+grouping of tribes for purposes of taxation naturally 
+implies their local vicinity; but it is in no sense a 
+description of the various units under Darius' rule; 
+nor can we even infer that these districts and groups 
+of districts are in all cases separate “ satrapies ” or 
+governorships. That, apparently, is precluded by 
+the occasional association of countries which could 
+not have formed a single governorship, for instance, 
+the Parthians, Chorasmians, Sogdi, and Arii, who 
+compose the sixteenth district; while the Bactrians 
+and Sacae, belonging here to separate tax-paying 
+
+
+! For a detailed discussion of the various problems sug- 
+gested by Book IV the reader is referred to the long and 
+elaborate Introduction to Dr. Macan’s edition of Herodotus, 
+Books IV, V, VI. 
+
+
+xvii 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO BOOKS III AND IV 
+
+
+units, appear in other passages in Herodotus ` ‘as 
+subjects of a single satrapy. What the historian 
+gives us in Book III is simply a statistical list of 
+Darius’ revenues and the sources from which they 
+were drawn. 
+
+
+xviii 
+
+
+uA C τ) fA A ALLICHIMU. os en ftit]. Run ap κ εν 2r 
+προ Sá au B6 E Ul ORE. ο... AE tH woe κα "κ" 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+BOOK III 
+
+
+VOL. Ii. 
+
+
+HPOAOTOY ΙΣΤΟΡΙΑΙ͂ 
+
+
+Ρ 
+
+
+. Emi τοῦτον δὴ τὸν ᾿Αμασιν Καμβύσης o 
+κῴ ου ἐστρατεύετο, ἄγων καὶ ἄλλους τῶν Ἶρ ε 
+
+ὶ Ἑλλήνων "Ιωνάς: Te καὶ Αἰολέας, δι αἰτίην 
+τοιήνδε. πέμψας Καμβύσης ἐ ἐς Αἴγυπτον κήρυκα 
+αἴτεε "Apaguw θυγατέρα, αἴτεε δὲ ἐκ βουλῆς ἀνδρὸς 
+Αἰγυπτίου, ὃ ὃς μεμφόμενος "Apacw ἔπρηξε ταῦτα 
+ὅτι μιν ἐξ ἆ ἁπάντων τῶν ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ i ἰητρῶν ἀπο- 
+σπάσας ἀπὸ γυναικός τε καὶ τέκνων ἔκδοτον, 
+ἐποίησε ἐς Πέρσας, ὅτε Κῦρος πέμψας παρὰ 
+᾿Αμασιν αἴτεε ἰητρὸν ὀφθαλμῶν ὃ ὃς εἴη ἄριστος 
+τῶν ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ. ταῦτα δὴ ἐπιμεμφόμενος ὃ 
+Αἰγύπτιος ἐνῆγε τῇ συμβουλῇ κελεύων αἰτέειν 
+τὸν Καμβύσεα "Αμασιν θυγατέρα, ἵνα ἢ δοὺς 
+ἀνιῴτο ἢ μὴ δοὺς Καμβύσῃ ἀπέχθοιτο. ὁ δὲ 
+"Αμασις τῇ. δυνάµι τῶν Περσέων ἀχθόμενος καὶ 
+ἀρρωδέων οὐκ εἶχε οὔτε δοῦναι οὔτε ἀρνήσασθαι 
+εὖ γὰρ ἠπίστατο ὅτι οὐκ ὡς γυναῖκά μιν ἔμελλε 
+Καμβύσης ἕξειν ἀλλ᾽ ὡς παλλακήν. ταῦτα δὴ 
+ἐκλογιξόμενος € ἐποίησε τάδε. ἣν ᾿Απρίεω τοῦ προ- 
+τέρου βασιλέος θυγάτηρ κάρτα μεγάλη τε καὶ 
+εὐειδὴς μούνη τοῦ οἴκου λελειμμένη, οὔνομα δέ οἱ 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+- 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+BOOK ΠῚ --. 
+
+
+l. Ir was against this Amasis that Cambyses led 
+an army of his subjects, Ionian and Aeolian Greeks 
+among them.! This was his reason: Cambyses sent 
+a herald to Egypt asking Amasis for his daüghier; 
+and this he did by the counsel of a certain Egyptian, 
+who devised it by reason of a grudge that he bcré 
+
+
+against Amasis, because when Cyrus sent to Amasis’. 
+
+
+asking for the best eye-doctor in Egypt the king had 
+chosen this man out of all the Egyptian physicians 
+and sent him perforce to Persia away from his wife 
+and children. With this grudge in mind he moved 
+Cambyses by his counsel to ask Amasis for his 
+daughter, that Amasis might be grieved if he gave her, 
+or Cambyses' enemy if he refused her. So Amasis was 
+sorely afraid of the power of Persia, and could neither 
+give his daughter nor deny her; for he knew well 
+that Cambyses would make her not his queen but his 
+mistress. Reasoning thus he bethought him of a 
+very tall and fair damsel called Nitetis, daughter of 
+the former king Apries, and all that was left of that 
+
+
+1 The received date is 525 B.c. 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἦν Νίτητις' ταύτην δὴ τὴν παῖδα ὁ “Apacs 
+κοσμήσας ἐσθῆτί τε καὶ χρυσῷ ἀποπέμπει ἐς 
+Πέρσας ὡς ἑωυτοῦ θυγατέρα. μετὰ δὲ χρόνον ὥς 
+μιν «ἠσπάξετο πατρόθεν - ὀνομάζων, λέγει πρὸς 
+αὐτὸν ἡ παῖς ο, βασἰλεῦ, .διαβεβλημένος ὑπὸ 
+᾿Αμάσιος οὐ μανθάχεις: ὃς ἐμὲ σοὶ κόσμῳ ἀσκή- 
+σας ἀπέπεμψε ὡς ἑωυτοῦ θυγατέρα διδούς, ἐ ἐοῦσαν 
+τῇ ἀληθείῃ ᾿Απρίεω, τὸν ἐκεῖνος ἐόντα ἑωυτοῦ 
+δεσπότεα μετ᾽. ᾿Αἰγυπτίων ἐπαναστὰς ἐφόνευσε.” 
+τοῦτο δὴ τὸ ἔπος καὶ αὕτη ἡ αἰτέη ἐγγενομένη 
+ἤγαγε Καμβύσεα τὸν Κύρου μεγάλως θυμωθέντα 
+ἐπ᾽ Αἴγυπτον., 
+
+2.. Ὠὕτω μέν νυν λέγουσι Πέρσαι. Αἰγύπτιοι 
+δὲ «οὐκη-δῦνται Καμβύσεα, φάμενοί μιν ἐκ ταύτης 
+δὴ TAS ᾿Απρίεω θυγατρὸς γενέσθαι" Kô ον γὰρ 
+εἶναι τὸν πέμψαντα παρὰ "Άμασιν € ἐπὶ τὴν θυγα- 
+"τέρα, ἀλλ᾽ οὐ Καμβύσεα. λέγοντες δὲ ταῦτα οὐκ 
+. ὀρθῶς λέγουσι. οὐ μὲν οὐδὲ λέληθε αὐτούς (εἰ 
+- γὰρ τινὲς καὶ ἄλλοι, τὰ Περσέων νόμιμα ἐπιστέ- 
+ατα! καὶ Αἰγύπτιοι) ὅ ὅτι πρῶτα μὲν νόθον οὔ σφι 
+νόμος ἐστὶ βασιλεῦσαι γνησίου παρεόντος, αὗτις 
+δὲ ὅτι Κασσανδάνης τῆς Φαρνάσπεω θυγατρὸς ἡ ἦν 
+παῖς Καμβύσης, ἀνδρὸς ᾿Αχαιμενίδεω, ἀλλ᾽ οὐκ ἐκ 
+τῆς Αἰγυπτίης. ἀλλὰ παρατράπουσι τὸν λόγον 
+προσποιεύµενοι τῇ Κύρου οἰκίῃ συγγενέες εἶναι. 
+
+3. Καὶ ταῦτα μὲν ὧδε ἔχει. λέγεται ξὲ καὶ 
+ὅδε λόγος, ἐμοὶ μὲν οὐ πιθανός, ὡς τῶν Περσίδων 
+γυναικῶν ἐσελθοῦσά τις παρὰ τὰς ; Κύρου γυναῖκας, 
+ὡς εἶδε τῇ Κασσανδάνῃ παρεστεῶτα τέκνα εὐειδέα 
+τε καὶ μεγάλα, πολλῷ ἐ ρᾶτο τῷ ἐπαίνῳ ὑπερθω- 
+μάξουσα, ἡ ἡ δὲ Κασσανδάνη é ἐοῦσα τοῦ Κύρου γυνὴ 
+εἶπε τάδε. ““Τοιῶνδε μέντοι ἐμὲ παίδων μητέρα 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+BOOK III. 1-3 
+
+
+family; Amasis decked her out with raiment and 
+golden ornaments and sent her to the Persians as if 
+she were his own daughter. But after a while, the 
+king greeting her as the daughter of Amasis, the 
+damsel said, “ King, you know not how Amasis has 
+deceived you: he decked me out with ornaments 
+and sent me to you to pass for his own daughter ; but 
+I am in truth the daughter of his master Apries, whom 
+he and other Egyptians rebelled against and slew." 
+It was these words and this reason that prevailed 
+with Cambyses to Jead him in great anger against 
+Egypt. 
+
+2. This is the Persian story. But the Egyptians 
+claim Cambyses for their own; they say that he was 
+the son of this daughter of Apries, and that it was 
+Cyrus, not Cambyses, who sent to Amasis for his 
+daughter. But this tale is false. Nay, they are well 
+aware (for the Egyptians have a truer knowledge 
+than any men of the Persian law) firstly, that no 
+bastard may be king of Persia if there be a son born 
+in lawful wedlock ; and secondly, that Cambyses was 
+born not of the Egyptian woman but of Cassandane, 
+daughter of Pharnaspes, an Achaemenid. But they 
+so twist the story because they would claim kinship 
+with the house of Cyrus. 
+
+3. So much for this matter. There is another tale 
+too, which I do not believe :—that a certain Persian 
+lady came to visit Cyrus' wives, and greatly praised 
+and admired the fair and tall children who stood by 
+Cassandane. Then Cassandane, Cyrus' wife, said, 
+* Ay, yet though I be the mother of such children 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐοῦσαν Κῦρος ἐν atiptn ἔχει, τὴν δὲ ἀπ’ Αἰγύπτου 
+ἐπίκτητον ἐν τιμῇ τίθεται.᾽ τὴν μὲν ἀχθομένην 
+τῇ Νιτήτι εὐπεῖν ταῦτα, τῶν δέ οἱ παίδων τὸν 
+πρεσβύτερον εἰπεῖν Καμβύσεα s Τοιγάρ τοι ὦ 
+μῆτερ, ἐπεὰν ἐγὼ γένωμαι ἀνήρ, Αἰγύπτου τὰ μὲν 
+ἄνω κάτω θήσω, τὰ δὲ κάτω ἄνω." ταῦτα εἰπεῖν 
+αὐτὸν ἔτεα ὡς δέκα κου γεγονότα, καὶ τὰς γυναῖκας 
+ἐν θώματι γενέσθαι’ τὸν δὲ διαμνημονεύοντα οὕτω 
+δή, ἐ ἐπείτε ἀνδρώθη καὶ ἔσχε τὴν βασιληίην, ποιή- 
+σασθαι τὴν ἐπ᾿ Αἴγυπτον στρατηίην. 
+
+4. Συνήνεικε δὲ καὶ ἄλλο τι τοιόνδε πρῆγμα 
+γενέσθαι ἐς τὴν ἐπιστράτευσιν ταύτην. ἦν τῶν 
+ἐπικούρων ᾿Αμάσιος ἀνὴρ γένος μὲν ᾿Αλικαρνησ- 
+σεύς, οὔνομα δέ οἱ Φώνης, καὶ γνώμην ἱκανὸς καὶ 
+τὰ πολεμικὰ ἄλκιμος. οὗτος ὁ Φάνης μεμφόμενός 
+κού τι ᾽Αμάσι ἐκδιδρήσκει πλοίῳ ἐξ Αἰγύπτου, 
+βουλόμενος Καμβύσῃ ἐλθεῖν ἐς λόγους. οἷα δὲ 
+ἐόντα αὐτὸν ἐν τοῖσι ἐπικούροισι λόγου οὐ σμικροῦ 
+ἐπιστάμενόν τε τὰ περὶ Αἴγυπτον ἀτρεκέστατα, 
+μεταδιώκει o Ἄμασις σπουδὴν ποιεύμενος ἑλεῖν, 
+μεταδιώκει δὲ τῶν εὐνού ων τὸν πιστότατον ἆπο- 
+στείλας τριήρεϊ κατ᾽ αὗτον, ὃς αἱρέει μιν ἐν Λυκίῃ, 
+ἑλὼν δὲ οὐκ ἀνήγαγε ἐς Αἴγυπτον: σο in yap 
+μιν περιῆλθε ὁ Φάνης" καταμεθύσας γὰρ τοὺς 
+φυλάκους ἀπαλλάσσετο ἐς Πέρσας. ὁρμημένῳ 
+δὲ στρατεύεσθαι Καμβύσῃἐ em Αἴγυπτον καὶ ἀπο- 
+ρέοντι τὴν ἔλασιν, ὅκως τὴν ἄνυδρον διεκπερᾷ, 
+ἐπελθὼν φράξει μὲν καὶ τὰ ἄλλα τὰ ᾿Αμάσιος 
+πρήγματα, ἐξηγέεται δὲ καὶ τὴν ἔλασιν, ὧδε παραι- 
+νέων, πέμψαντα παρὰ τὸν ᾿Ἀραβίων βασιλέα 
+δέεσθαι τὴν διέξοδόν οἱ ἀσφαλέα παρασχεῖν. 
+
+ὅ. Μούνῃ δὲ ταύτῃ εἰσὶ φανεραὶ ἐσβολαὶ ἐς 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+BOOK III. 3-5 
+
+
+» 
+
+
+Cyrus dishonours me and honours this newcomer 
+from Egypt." So she spoke in her bitterness against 
+Nitetis ; and Cambyses, the eldest of her sons, said, 
+“Then, mother, when I am grown a man, I will turn 
+all Egypt upside down." When he said this he was 
+about ten years old, and the women marvelled at 
+him; but he kept it in mind, and it was thus that 
+when he grew up and became king, he made the 
+expedition against Egypt. 
+
+4. It chanced also that another thing befell tending 
+to this expedition. There was among Amasis' foreign 
+soldiers one Phanes, a Halicarnassian by birth, a man 
+of sufficient judgment and valiant in war. This Phanes 
+had some grudge against Amasis, and fled from 
+Egypt on shipboard that he might have an audience 
+of Cambyses. Seeing that he was a man much 
+esteemed among the foreign soldiery and had an 
+exact knowledge of all Egyptian matters, Amasis 
+was zealous to take him, and sent a trireme with the 
+trustiest of his eunuchs to pursue him. This eunuch 
+caught him in Lycia but never brought him back to 
+Egypt; for Phanes was too clever for him, and made 
+his guards drunk and so escaped to Persia. There 
+he found Cambyses prepared to set forth against 
+Egypt, but in doubt as to his march, how he should 
+cross the waterless desert; so Phanes showed him 
+what was Amasis’ condition and how he should 
+march; as to this, he counselled Cambyses to send 
+and ask the king of the Arabians for a safe passage. 
+
+5. Now the only manifest way of entry into Egypt 
+
+
+7 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+LÀ , A . , / » ^ 
+Αἴγυπτον. ἀπὸ γὰρ Φοινίκης μέχρι οὔρων τῶν 
+Καδύτιος πόλιος ἐστὶ Σύρων τῶν Παλαιστίνων 
+
+/ , . δὲ δύ J > 7 / e 
+καλεομένων' ἀπὸ δὲ Καδύτιος ἐούσης πόλιος, ὡς 
+ἐμοὶ δοκέει, Σαρδίων οὐ πολλῷ ἐλάσσονος, ἀπὸ 
+ταύτης τὰ ἐμπόρια τὰ ἐπὶ θαλάσσης μέχρι Ἰηνύσου 
+
+, > A a? / $ Ν Ν 2 ΄ . 
+πόλιος ἐστὶ τοῦ ᾿Αραβίου, ἀπὸ δὲ Ἰηνύσου αὖτις 
+Σύρων μέχρι Σερβωνίδος λίμνης, παρ᾽ ἣν δὴ τὸ 
+Κάσιον ὄρος τείνει ἐς θάλασσαν' ἀπὸ δὲ Σερβω- 
+νίδος λίμνης, ἐν τῇ δὴ λόγος τὸν Τυφῶ κεκρύφθαι, 
+, M / y y \ 4 \ 3 ΄ 
+ἀπὸ ταύτης ἤδη Αἴγυπτος. τὸ δὴ μεταξὺ Ἰηνύσου 
+
+/ / » ^ , 
+πόλιος καὶ Κασίου τε ὄρεος καὶ τῆς Σερβωνίδος 
+λίμνης, ἐὸν τοῦτο οὐκ ὀλίγον χωρίον ἀλλὰ ὅσον τε 
+
+^ / ^ 
+ἐπὶ τρεῖς ἡμέρας ὁδόν, ἄνυδρον ἐστὶ δεινῶς. 
+
+6. Τὸ δὲ ὀλίγοι τῶν ἐς Αἴγυπτον ναυτιλλομένων 
+ἐννενώκασι, τοῦτο ἔρχομαι φράσων. ἐς Αἴγυπτον 
+
+- ε 
+ἐκ τῆς Ἑλλάδος πάσης καὶ πρὸς ἐκ Φοινίκης 
+κέραμος ἐσάγεται πλήρης οἴνου δὶς τοῦ ἔτεος 
+ἑκάστου, καὶ ἓν κεράμιον οἰνηρὸν ἀριθμῷ κεινὸν 
+
+, » e / , ^ ο ^ ^ vy 
+οὐκ ἔστι ὡς λόγῳ εἰπεῖν ἰδέσθαι. κοῦ δῆτα, εἴποι 
+τις ἄν, ταῦτα ἀναισιμοῦται; ἐγὼ καὶ τοῦτο φράσω' 
+δεῖ τὸν μὲν δήμαρχον ἕκαστον ἐκ τῆς ἑωυτοῦ 
+
+/ / / \ 4 » , 
+πόλιος συλλέξαντα πάντα τὸν κέραμον ἄγειν ἐς 
+Μέμφιν, τοὺς δὲ ἐκ Μέμφιος ἐς ταῦτα δὴ τὰ 
+» ^ / / 4 e 
+ἄνυδρα τῆς Συρίης κομίζειν πλήσαντας ὕδατος. 
+οὕτω ὁ ἐπιφοιτέων κέραμος καὶ ἐξαιρεόμενος ἐν 
+Αἰγύπτῳ ἐπὶ τὸν παλαιὸν κομίξεται ἐς Συρίην. 
+
+/ 
+
+7. Οὕτω μέν νυν Πέρσαι εἰσὶ οἱ τὴν ἐσβολὴν 
+
+ταύτην παρασκευάσαντες ἐς Αἴγυπτον, κατὰ δὴ 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+BOOK III. s-7 
+
+
+is this. The road runs from Phoenice as far as the 
+city of Cadytis, which belongs to the Syrians of 
+Palestine, as it is called. From Cadytis (which, as I 
+judge, is a city not much smaller than Sardis) to the 
+city of Ienysus the seaports belong to the Arabians ; 
+then they are Syrian again from Ienysus as far as the 
+Serbonian marsh, beside which the Casian promontory 
+stretches seawards; from this Serbonian marsh, 
+where Typho,? it is said, was hidden, the country 
+is Egypt. Now between Ienysus and the Casian 
+mountain and the Serbonian marsh there lies a wide 
+territory for as much as three days' journey, wondrous 
+waterless. 
+
+6. I will now tell of a thing that but few of 
+those who sail to Egypt have perceived. Earthen 
+jars full of wine are brought into Egypt twice 
+a year from all Greece and Phoenice besides: yet 
+there is riot to be seen, so to say, one single wine 
+jar lying anywhere in the country. What then (one 
+may ask) becomes of them? This too I will tell. 
+Each governor of ‘a district must gather in all the 
+earthen pots from his own township and take them 
+to Memphis, and the people of Memphis must fill 
+them with water and carry them to those waterless 
+lands of Syria; so the earthen pottery that is brought 
+to Egypt and sold there is carried to Syria to join 
+the stock whence it came. 
+
+7. Now as soon as the Persians took possession of 
+Egypt, it was they who thus provided for the entry 
+
+
+1 Probably Gaza. 
+
+3 Hot winds and volcanic agency were attributed by Greek 
+m tholog to Typhon, cast down from heaven by Zeus and 
+* buried" in hot or volcanic regions.  Typhon came to 
+be identified with the Egyptian god Set; and the legend 
+grew that he was buried in the Serbonian marsb. 
+
+
+9 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τὰ εἰρημένα σάξαντες ὕδατι, ἐ ἐπείτε "τάχιστα παρέ- 
+λαβον Αἴγυπτον. τότε δὲ οὐκ ἐόντος kw ὕδατος 
+ἑτοίμου, Καμβύσης πυθόμενος τοῦ “Αλικαρνησσέος 
+ξείνου, πέμψας παρὰ τὸν ᾿Αράβιον ἀγγέλους καὶ 
+δεηθεὶς τῆς ἀσφαλείης ἔτυχε, πίστις δούς τε καὶ 
+δεξάμενος παρ᾽ αὐτοῦ. 
+
+8. Σέβονται δὲ ᾿Αράβιοι πίστις ᾿ἀνθρώπων ő ὅμοια 
+τοῖσι μάλιστα, ποιεῦνται δὲ αὐτὰς τρόπῳ τοιῷδε’ 
+τῶν βουλομένων τὰ πιστὰ ποιέεσθαι ἄλλος ἀνήρ, 
+ἀμφοτέρων αὐτῶν ἐν μέσῳ ἑστεώς, λίθῳ ὀξέν τὸ 
+ἔσω τῶν χειρῶν παρὰ τοὺς δακτύλους τοὺς μεγά- 
+λους ἐπιτάμνει τῶν ποιευμένων τὰς πίστις, καὶ 
+ἔπειτα λαβὼν ἐκ τοῦ ἱματίου ἑκατέρου κροκύδα 
+ἀλείφει τῷ αἵματι ἐν μέσῳ κειμένους λίθους ἑ ἑπτά: 
+τοῦτο δὲ ποιέων ἐπικαλέει τε τὸν Διόνυσον καὶ 
+τὴν Οὐρανίην. ἐπιτελέσαντος δὲ τούτου ταῦτα, ὁ 
+τὰς πίστις. ποιησάμενος τοῖσι φίλοισι παρεγγυᾷ 
+τὸν ξεῖνον ἡ ἢ καὶ τὸν ἀστόν, ἦν πρὸς ἀστὸν ποιέη- 
+Tat οἱ δὲ φίλοι καὶ αὐτοὶ τὰς πίστις δικαιεῦσι 
+σέβεσθαι. Διόνυσον δὲ θεῶν μοῦνον καὶ τὴν 
+Οὐρανίην ἡγέονται εἶναι, καὶ τῶν .τριχῶν τὴν 
+κουρὴν κείρεσθαι φασὶ κατά περ αὐτὸν τὸν Διό- 
+νυσον κεκάρθαι" κείρονται δὲ περιτρόχαλα, ὑπο- 
+ξυρῶντες τοὺς κροτάφους. ὀνομάξουσι δὲ τὸν μὲν 
+Διόνυσον Oporáxr, τὴν δὲ Οὐρανίην ᾽Αλιλάτ. 
+
+9. ᾿Επεὶ àv τὴν πίστιν τοῖσι ἀγγέλοισι τοῖσι 
+παρὰ Καμβύσεω ἀπιγμένοισι -ἐποιήσατο ὁ "A pá- 
+βιος, ἐμηχανᾶτο ' τοιάδε" ἀσκοὺς καμήλων πλήσας 
+ὕδατος ἐπέσαξε ἐ ἐπὶ τὰς ζωὰς τῶν καμήλων πάσας, 
+τοῦτο δὲ ποιήσας ἤλασε ἐς τὴν ἄνυδρον καὶ 
+ὑπέμενε ἐνθαῦτα τὸν Καμβύσεω στρατόν. οὗτος 
+μὲν ὁ πιθανώτερος τῶν λόγων εἴρηται, δεῖ δὲ καὶ 
+
+
+1ο 
+
+
+BOOK III. 7-9 
+
+
+into that country, filling pots with water as I have 
+said. But at this time there was as yet no ready 
+supply of water; wherefore Cambyses, hearing what 
+was said by the stranger from Halicarnassus, sent 
+messengers to the Arabian and asked and obtained 
+safe conduct, giving and receiving from him pledges. 
+
+8. There are no men who respect pledges more 
+
+
+. than the Arabians. This is the manner of their 
+
+
+giving them :—a man stands between the two parties 
+that would give security, and cuts with a sharp stone 
+the palms of the hands of the parties, by the second 
+finger ; then he takes a piece of wool from the cloak 
+of each and smears with the blood seven stones that 
+lie between them, calling the while on Dionysus and 
+the Heavenly Aphrodite; and when he has fully 
+done this, he that gives the security commends to 
+his friends the stranger (or his countryman if the 
+party be such), and his friends hold themselves bound 
+to honour the pledge. They deem none other to be 
+gods save Dionysus and the Heavenly Aphrodite ; 
+and they say that the cropping of their hair is like 
+the cropping of the hair of Dionysus, cutting it round 
+the head and shaving the temples. They call 
+Dionysus, Orotalt; and Aphrodite, Alilat.! 
+
+9. Having then pledged himself to the mes- 
+sengers who had come from Cambyses, the Arabian 
+planned and did as I shall show: he filled camel-skins 
+with water and loaded live camels with these ; which 
+done, he drove them into the waterless land and 
+there awaited Cambyses army. This is the most 
+credible of the stories told ; but I must relate the 
+
+
+1 According to Movers, Orotalt is ‘‘the fire of God,” 
+órath él, and Alilat the feminine of Aélél, ‘‘morning star"; 
+but a simpler interpretation is Al Ilat = the goddess. 
+
+
+II 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+TÓV ἧσσον. πιθανόν, ἐπεί ye δὴ λέγεται, ῥηθῆναι. 
+ποταμός ἐστι μέγας ἐν τῇ ᾿Αραβίῃ τῷ οὔνομα 
+Κόρυς, ἐκδιδοῖ δὲ οὗτος ἐς τὴν ᾿Ερυθρὴν καλεο- 
+μένην θάλασσαν" ἀπὸ τούτου δὴ ὧν τοῦ ποταμοῦ 
+λέγεται τὸν βασιλέα τῶν ᾿Αραβίων, ῥαψάμενον 
+τῶν ὠμοβοέων καὶ τῶν ἄλλων δερμάτων ὀχετὸν 
+μήκεϊ ἐξικνεύμενον ἐ ἐς τὴν. ἄνυδρον, ἆ ἀγαγεῖν διὰ δὴ 
+τούτων τὸ ὕδωρ, ἐ ἐν δὲ τῇ ἀνύδρῳ. μεγάλας δεξα- 
+μενὰς ὀρύξασθαι, i ἶνα δεκόμεναι τὸ ὕδωρ σώξωσι. 
+ὁδὸς δ᾽ ἐστὶ δυώδεκα ἡμερέων ἀπὸ τοῦ ποταμοῦ 
+ἐς ταύτην τὴν ἄνυδρον. ἄγειν δέ μιν δι᾽ ὀχετῶν 
+τριῶν ἐς τριξὰ χωρία. 
+
+10. Ἔν δὲ τῷ Πηλουσίῳ καλεομένῳ στόματι 
+τοῦ Νείλου ' ἐστρατοπεδεύετο Ὑαμμήνιτος ὁ ᾿Αμά- 
+σιος παῖς ὑπομένων Καμβύσεα. "Apaciw γὰρ οὐ 
+κατέλαβε ζῶντα Καμβύσης ἐλάσας ἐπ᾿ Αἴγυπτον, 
+ἀλλὰ βασιλεύσας ὁ "Άμασις τέσσερα καὶ τεσ- 
+σεράκοντα ἔτεα ἀπέθανε, ἐν τοῖσι οὐδέν οἱ μέγα 
+ἀνάρσιον πρῆγμα συνηνείχθη" ἀποθανὼν. δὲ καὶ 
+ταριχευθεὶς ἐτάφη ἐν τῇσι ταφῇσι ἐν τῷ ἱρῷ, τὰς 
+αὐτὸς οἰκοδομήσατο. ἐπὶ Ψαμμηνίτου δὲ τοῦ 
+᾽Αμάσιος βασιλεύοντος Αἰγύπτου φάσμα Αἰγυπ- 
+τίοισι μέγιστον δὴ ἐγένετο" ὕσθησαν γὰρ Θῆβαι 
+αἱ Αἰγύπτιαι, οὔτε πρότερον οὐδαμὰ ὑσθεῖσαι 
+οὔτε ὕστερον τὸ μέχρι ἐμεῦ, ὡς λέγουσι αὐτοὶ 
+Θηβαῖοι: οὐ γὰρ δὴ ὕ ὕεται τὰ ἄνω τῆς Αἰγύπτου 
+τὸ παράπαν' ἀλλὰ καὶ τότε ὕσθησαν αἱ Θῆβαι 
+ψακάδυ. 
+
+Οἱ δὲ Πέρσαι ἐπείτε διεξελάσαντες τὴν 
+ἄνυδρον ἴζοντο πέλας τῶν Αἰγυπτίων ὡς συμβα- 
+λέοντες, ἐνθαῦτα οἱ ἐπίκουροι οἱ τοῦ Αἰγυπτίου, 
+ἐόντες ἄνδρες "Ελληνές τε καὶ Κᾶρες, μεμφόμενοι 
+
+
+12 
+
+
+BOOK ΠΠ. 9-11 
+
+
+less credible tale also, since they tellit. There isa 
+great river in Arabia called Corys, issuing into the 
+sea called Red. From this river (it is said) the king 
+of the Arabians carried water by a duct of sewn ox- 
+hides and other hides of a length sufficient to reach 
+to the dry country; and he had great tanks dug in 
+that country to receive and keep the water. It is a 
+twelve days' journey from the river to that desert. 
+By three ducts (they say) he led the water to three 
+several places. 
+
+10. Psammenitus, son of Amasis, was encamped by 
+the mouth of the Nile called Pelusian, awaiting 
+Cambyses. For when Cambyses marched against 
+Egypt he found Amasis no longer alive; he had died 
+after reigning forty-four years, in which no great 
+misfortune had befallen him ; and being dead he was 
+embalmed and laid in the burial-place built for him- 
+self in the temple. While his son Psammenitus was 
+king of Egypt, the people saw a most wonderful sight, 
+namely, rain at Thebes of Egypt, where, as the 
+Thebans themselves say, there had never been rain 
+before, nor since to my lifetime; for indeed there is 
+no rain at all in the upper parts of Egypt; but at 
+that time a drizzle of rain fell at Thebes.! 
+
+11. Now the Persians having crossed the waterless 
+country and encamped near the Egyptians with intent 
+to give battle, the foreign soldiery of the Egyptian, 
+Greeks and Carians, devised a plan to punish Phanes, 
+
+
+1 In modern times there is sometimes a little rain at 
+Thebes (Luxor); very little and very seldom. 
+
+
+13 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+TQ Φάνῃ ὅτι στρατὸν ἤγαγε ἐπ᾽ Αἴγυπτον ἀλλό- 
+θροον, μηχανῶνται πρῆγμα ἐς αὐτὸν τοιόνδε, 
+ἦσαν τῷ Φάνῃ παῖδες ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ καταλελειμ- 
+μένοι" τοὺς ἀγαγόντες ἐς τὸ στρατόπεδον καὶ ἐς 
+ὄψιν τοῦ πατρὸς κρητῆρα ἐν μέσῳ ἔστησαν ἀμ- 
+φοτέρων τῶν στρατοπέδων, μετὰ δὲ ἁγινέοντες 
+κατὰ ἕνα ἕκαστον τῶν παίδων ἔσφαζον ἐς τὸν 
+κρητῆρα" διὰ πάντων δὲ διεξελθόντες τῶν παίδων 
+οἶνόν τε καὶ ὕδωρ ἐσεφόρεον ἐς αὐτόν, ἐμπιόντες 
+δὲ τοῦ αἵματος πάντες οἱ ἐπίκουροι οὕτω δὴ 
+συνέβαλον. μάχης δὲ γενομένης καρτερῆς καὶ 
+πεσόντων ἐξ ἀμφοτέρων τῶν στρατοπέδων πλήθεϊ 
+πολλῶν ἐτράποντο οἱ Αἰγύπτιοι. 
+
+12. Θῶμα δὲ μέγα εἶδον πυθόμενος παρὰ τῶν 
+ἐπιχωρίων" τῶν γὰρ ὀστέων περικεχυμένων χωρὶς 
+ἑκατέρων τῶν ἐν τῇ μάχῃ ταύτῃ πεσόντων χωρὶς 
+μὲν γὰρ τῶν Περσέων ἐκέετο τὰ ὀστέα, ὡς ἐχω- 
+ρίσθη κατ ἆ ἀρχάς, ἑτέρωθι δὲ τῶν Αἰγυπτίων » αἱ 
+μὲν τῶν Περσέων κεφαλαί εἰσι ἀσθενέες οὕτω 
+ὥστε, εἰ θέλεις ψήφῳ μούνῃ βαλεῖν, διατετρανέεις, 
+αἱ δὲ τῶν Αἰγυπτίων οὕτω δή τι , la xvpat, μόγις 
+ἂν λίθῳ παίσας διαρρήξειας. αἴτιον δὲ τούτου 
+τόδε ἔλεγον, καὶ ἐμέ Y. εὐπετέως ἔπειθον, ὅτι 
+Αἰγύπτιοι μὲν αὐτίκα ἀπὸ παιδίων ἀρξάμενοι 
+ξυρῶνται τὰς κεφαλὰς καὶ πρὸς τὸν ἥλιον παχύ- 
+νεται τὸ ὀστέον. T@UTO δὲ τοῦτο καὶ τοῦ μὴ 
+φαλακροῦσθαι αἴτιον oti Αἰγυπτίων γὰρ ἄν τις 
+ἐλαχίστους ἴδοιτο φαλακροὺς πάντων ἀνθρώπων. 
+τούτοισι μὲν δὴ τοῦτο ἐστὶ αἴτιον ἰσχυρὰς φορέειν 
+τὰς κεφαλάς, τοῖσι δὲ Πέρσῃσι ὅτι ἀσθενέας 
+φορέουσι τὰς κεφαλὰς αἴτιον τόδε' σκιητροφέουσι 
+ἐξ ἀρχῆς πίλους τιάρας i a ταῦτα μέν 
+
+
+14 
+
+
+BOOK III. 11-12 
+
+
+being wroth with him for leading a stranger army 
+into Egypt. Phanes had left sons in Egypt; these 
+they brought to the camp, into their father’s sight, 
+and set a great bowl between the two armies; then 
+they brought the sons one by one and cut their 
+throats over the bowl. When all the sons were 
+killed, they poured into the bowl wine and water, 
+and the foreign soldiery drank of this and thereafter 
+gave battle. The fight waxed hard, and many of 
+both armies fell; but at length the Egyptians were 
+routed. 
+
+12. I saw there a strange thing, of which the 
+people of the country had told me. The bones of 
+those slain on either side in this fight lying scattered 
+separately (for the Persian bones lay in one place 
+and the Egyptian in another, where the armies 
+had first separately stood), the skulls of the 
+Persians are so brittle that if you throw no more 
+than a pebble it will pierce them, but the 
+Egyptian skulls are so strong that a blow of 
+a stone will hardly break them. And this, the 
+people said (which for my own part I readily be- 
+lieved), is the reason of it: the Egyptians shave their 
+heads from childhood, and the bone thickens by ex- | 
+posure to the sun. This also is the reason why they 
+do not grow bald; for nowhere can one see so few 
+bald heads as in Egypt. Their skulls then are strong 
+for this reason; and the cause of the Persian skulls 
+being weak is that they shelter their heads through 
+their lives with the felt hats (called tiaras) which 
+they wear. Such is the truth of this matter. Isaw 
+
+
+r5 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+νυν τοιαῦτα: εἶδον δὲ καὶ ἄλλα ὅμοια τούτοισι ἐν 
+Παπρήμι τῶν ἅμα ᾿Αχαιμένεϊ τῷ Δαρείου διαφθα- 
+ρέντων ὑπὸ Ἰνάρω τοῦ Λίβυος. 
+
+19. Οἱ δὲ Αἰγύπτιοι ἐς τῆς μάχης ὡς ἐτρά- 
+ποντο, ἔφευγον οὐδενὶ κόσμῳ" κατειληθέντων δὲ 
+ἐς Μέμφιν, € ἔπεμπε ἀνὰ ποταμὸν Καμβύσης νέα 
+Μυτιληναίην κήρυκα. ἄγουσαν ἄνδρα Πέρσην, ἐς 
+ὁμολογίην προκαλεύµενος Αἰγυπτίους. ob δὲ 
+ἐπείτε τὴν νέα εἶδον ἐσελθοῦσαν ἐς τὴν Μέμφιν, 
+ἐκχυθέντες ἁλέες ἐκ τοῦ τείχεος τήν τε νέα διέ- 
+φθειραν καὶ τοὺς ἄνδρας κρεουργηδὸν διασπάσαν- 
+τες ἐφόρεον ἐς τὸ τεῖχος. καὶ Αἰγύπτιοι μὲν μετὰ 
+τοῦτο πολιορκεύμενοι χρόνφ «παρέστησαν, οἱ δὲ 
+προσεχέες Λίβυες δείσαντες τὰ περὶ τὴν Αἴγυπτον 
+γεγονότα παρέδοσαν σφέας αὐτοὺς ἀμαχητὶ καὶ 
+φόρον τε ἐτάξαντο καὶ δῶρα ἔπεμπον. as δὲ 
+Κυρηναῖοι καὶ Βαρκαῖοι, δείσαντες ὁμοίως καὶ οἱ 
+Λίβυες, τοιαῦτα ἐποίησαν. Καμβύσης δὲ τὰ μὲν 
+παρὰ Λιβύων ἐλθόντα δῶρα φιλοφρόνως ἐδέξατο" 
+τὰ δὲ παρὰ Κυρηναίων ἀπικόμενα μεμφθείς, ὡς 
+ἐμοὶ δοκέει, ὅ ὅτι ἦν ὀλίγα" ἔπεμψαν γὰρ δὴ πεν- 
+τακοσίας μνέας ἀργυρίου οἱ Κυρηναῖοι" ταύτας 
+δρασσόμενος αὐτοχειρίῃ διέσπειρε τῇ στρατιῇ. 
+
+14. Ἡμέρῃ δὲ δεκάτῃ ἀπ ἧς παρέλαβε τὸ 
+τεῖχος τὸ ἐν Μέμφι Καμβύσης, κατίσας ἐς τὸ 
+προάστειον ἐπὶ λύμη τὸν βασιλέα τῶν Αἰγυπτίων 
+Ὑαμμήνιτον, βασιλεύσαντα μῆνας ἕξ, τοῦτον 
+κατίσας σὺν ἄλλοισι Αἰγυπτίοισι διεπειρᾶτο 
+αὐτοῦ τῆς ψυχῆς ποιέων τοιάδε' στείλας. αὐτοῦ 
+τὴν θυγατέρα ἐσθῆτι δουληίῃ ἐξέπεμπε ἐ ἐπ ὕδωρ 
+ἔχουσαν Spron, συνέπεµπε δὲ καὶ ἄλλας παρ- 
+θένους ἀπολέξας ἀνδρῶν τῶν πρώτων, ὁμοίως 
+
+
+16 
+
+
+BOOK ΠΠ. 12-14 
+
+
+too the skulls of those Persians at Papremis who 
+were slain with Darius’ son Achaemenes by Inaros 
+the Libyan, and they were like the others. 
+
+13. After their rout in the battle the Egyptians 
+fled in disorder ; and they being driven into Memphis, 
+Cambyses sent a Persian herald up the river in a ship 
+of Mytilene to invite them to an agreement. But 
+when they saw the ship coming to Memphis, they 
+sallied out all together from their walls, destroyed 
+the ship, tore the crew asunder (like butchers) and 
+carried them within the walls. So the Egyptians 
+were besieged, and after a good while yielded ; but 
+the neighbouring Libyans, affrighted by what had 
+happened in Egypt, surrendered unresisting, laying 
+tribute on themselves and sending gifts; and so too, 
+affrighted like the Libyans, did the people of Cyrene 
+and Barca. Cambyses received in all kindness the 
+gifts of the Libyans; but he seized what came from 
+Cyrene and scattered it with his own hands among 
+. his army. This he did, as I think, to mark his dis- 
+pleasure at the littleness of the gift; for the Cyre- 
+naeans had sent five hundred silver minae. 
+
+14. On the tenth day after the surrender of the 
+walled city of Memphis, Cambyses took Psammenitus 
+king of Egypt, who had reigned for six months, and 
+set him down in the outer part of the city with other 
+Egyptians, to do him despite; having so done he 
+made trial of Psammenitus' spirit, as I shall show. 
+He dressed the king's daughter in slave's attire and 
+sent her with a vessel to fetch water, in company 
+with other maidens dressed as she was, chosen from 
+
+17 
+
+VOL. II. c 
+
+
+΄ 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐσταλμένας τῇ τοῦ βασιλέος. ὡς δὲ Boñ TE καὶ 
+κλαυθμῷ παρήισαν αἱ παρθένοι παρὰ τοὺς πατέ- 
+pas, οἱ μὲν ἄλλοι πάντες ἀντεβόων τε καὶ 
+ἀντέκλαιον ὁρῶντες τὰ τέκνα κεκακωμένα, 0 δὲ 
+Ὑαμμήνιτος προϊδὼν καὶ _ μαθὼν ἔκυψε ἐς τὴν 
+γῆν. παρελθουσέων δὲ τῶν ὑδροφόρων, δεύτερά 
+οἱ τὸν παῖδα èë ἔπεμπε μετ᾽ ἄλλων Αἰγυπτίων δισ- 
+χιλίων τὴν αὐτὴν ἡλικίην ἐχόντων, τούς τε 
+αὐχένας κάλῳ δεδεμένους καὶ τὰ στόματα ἐγκε- 
+χαλινωμένους" ἤγοντο δὲ ποινὴν τίσοντες Μυτι- 
+ληναίων τοῖσι ἐν Μέμφι ἀπολομένοισι σὺν τῇ 
+νηΐ. ταῦτα γὰρ ἐδίκασαν οἱ βασιλήιοι. δικασταί, 
+ὑπὲρ ἀνδρὸς ἑ ἑκάστου δέκα Αἰγυπτίων τῶν πρώτων 
+ἀνταπόλλυσθαι. ὃ δὲ ἰδὼν. παρεξιόντας καὶ µα- 
+θὼν τὸν παῖδα ἡγεόμενον ἐπὶ θάνατον, τῶν ἄλλων 
+Αἰγυπτίων τῶν περικατημένων. αὐτὸν κλαιόντων 
+καὶ δεινὰ ποιεύντων, τὠυτὸ ἐποίησε τὸ καὶ ἐπὶ τῇ 
+θυγατρί. παρελθόντων δὲ καὶ τούτων, συνήνεικε 
+ὥστε τῶν .συμποτέων οἱ ἄνδρα ἀπηλικέστερον, 
+ἐκπεπτωκότα ἐκ τῶν ἐόντων ἔχοντά τε οὐδὲν εἰ 
+μὴ ὅσα πτωχὸς καὶ προσαιτέοντα τὴν στρατιήν, 
+παριέναι Ψαμμήνιτόν τε τὸν ᾽Αμάσιος καὶ τοὺς 
+ἐν τῷ προαστείῳ κατημένους Αἰγυπτίων. ὁ δὲ 
+Ψαμμήνιτος ὡς εἶδε, ἀνακλαύσας μέγα καὶ καλέ- 
+σᾶς ὀνομαστὶ τὸν ἑταῖρον ἐπλήξατο τὴν κεφαλήν. 
+ἦσαν δ᾽ ἄρα αὐτοῦ φύλακοι, οἳ τὸ ποιεύμενον πᾶν 
+ἐξ ἐκείνου ἐπ᾿ ἑκάστῃ ἐξόδῳ Καμβύσῃ ἐ ἐσήμαινον. 
+θωμάσας δὲ ὁ Καμβύσης τὰ ποιεύμενα, πέμψας 
+ἄγγελον εἰρώτα αὐτὸν λέγων τάδε. “ Δεσπότης 
+σε Καμβύσης, Ῥαμμήνιτε, εἶρωτῷ δι᾽ ὅ τι δὴ τὴν 
+μὲν θυγατέρα ὀρέων κεκακωμένην καὶ τὸν παῖδα 
+ἐπὶ θάνατον στείχοντα οὔτε ἀνέβωσας οὔτε ἀπέ- 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+BOOK ΠΠ. 14 
+
+
+the families of the chief men. So when the damsels 
+came before their fathers crying and lamenting, all 
+the rest answered with like cries and weeping, seeing 
+their children's evil case; but Psammenitus, having 
+already seen and learnt all, bowed himself to the 
+ground. When the water-carriers had passed by, 
+Cambyses next made Psammenitus' son to pass him 
+with two thousand Egyptians of like age besides, all 
+with ropes bound round their necks and bits in their 
+mouths; who were led forth to make atonement for - 
+those Mytilenaeans who had perished with their ship 
+at Memphis; for such was the judgment of the royal 
+judges, that every man's death be paid for by the 
+slaying of ten noble Egyptians. When Psammenitus 
+saw them pass by and perceived that his son was led 
+out to die, and all the Egyptians who sat with him 
+wept and showed their affliction, he did as he had 
+done at the sight of his daughter. When these too 
+had gone by, it chanced that there was one of his 
+boon companions, a man past his prime, that had lost 
+all his possessions, and had but what a poor man 
+might have, and begged of the army; this man now 
+passed before Psammenitus son of Amasis and the 
+Egyptians who sat in the outer part of the city. 
+When Psammenitus saw him, he broke into loud 
+weeping, smiting his head and calling on his com- 
+panion by name. Now there were men set to watch 
+Psammenitus, who told Cambyses all that he did 
+when any came into his sight. Marvelling at what 
+the king did, Cambyses made this inquiry of him by 
+a messenger: * Psammenitus, Cambyses my master 
+asks of you why, seeing your daughter mishandled 
+and your son going to his death, you neither cried 
+
+
+a 
+c 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+κλαυσας, τὸν δὲ πτωχὸν οὐδὲν σοὶ προσήκοντα, 
+ὡς ἄλλων πυνθάνεται, ἐτίμησας.᾽ ὃ μὲν δὴ ταῦτα 
+ἐπειρώτα, ὃ δ᾽ ἀμείβετο τοῖσιδε. “"Ὦ παῖ Κύρου, 
+τὰ μὲν᾽ οἰκήια ἦν μέζω κακὰ ἢ ὥστε ἀνακλαίειν, 
+τὸ δὲ τοῦ ἑταίρου πένθος ἄξιον ἢ ἦν δακρύων, ὃ ὃς ἐκ 
+πολλῶν τε καὶ εὐδαιμόνων ἐ ἐκπεσὼν ἐς πτωχηΐην 
+ἀπῖκται ἐπὶ γήραος οὐδῷ." καὶ ταῦτα ὡς] áme- 
+νειχθέντα i ὑπὸ τούτου εὖ δοκέειν σφι εἰρῆσθαι, ὡς 
+[δὲ] λέγεται ὑπ᾽ Αἰγυπτίων, δακρύειν μὲν Κροῖσον 
+(ἐτετεύχεε γὰρ καὶ οὗτος ἐπισπόμενος Καμβύσῃ 
+ἐπ᾽ Αἴγυπτον), δακρύειν δὲ Περσέων τοὺς παρ- 
+eovTas: αὐτῷ τε Καμβύσῃ ἐσελθεῖν οἶκτον τινά, 
+καὶ αὐτίκα κελεύειν τόν τέ οἱ παῖδα è ἐκ τῶν ἀπολ- 
+λυμένων σώξειν καὶ αὐτὸν ἐκ τοῦ προαστείου 
+ἀναστήσαντας ἄγειν παρ ἑωυτόν, 
+
+15, Τὸν μὲν δὴ παῖδα εὗρον αὐτοῦ οἱ μετιόντες 
+οὐκέτι περιεόντα ἀλλὰ πρῶτον κατακοπέντα, αὐτὸν 
+δὲ Ψαμμήνιτον ἀναστήσαντες ἦγον παρὰ Kap- 
+Bucea: ἔνθα τοῦ λοιποῦ διαιτᾶτο ἔχων οὐδὲν 
+βίαιον. ei δὲ καὶ ἠπιστήθη μὴ πολυπρηγμονέειν, 
+ἀπέλαβε à ἂν Αἴγυπτον ὥστε ἐπιτροπεύειν αὐτῆς, 
+ἐπεὶ τιμᾶν ἐώθασι Πέρσαι τῶν βασιλέων τοὺς 
+παῖδας: τῶν, εἰ καὶ σφέων ἆ ἀποστέωσι, ὅμως τοῖσί γε 
+παισὶ αὐτῶν ἀποδιδοῦσι τὴν ἀρχήν. πολλοῖσι μέν 
+νυν καὶ ἄλλοισι ἐστὶ σταθμώσασθαι ὅτι τοῦτο οὕτω 
+νενομίκασι, ποιέειν, ἐν δὲ καὶ τῷ τε ᾿Ινάρω. παιδὶ 
+Θαννύρᾳ, ὃ ὃς ἀπέλαβε τήν οἱ ὁ πατὴρ εἶχε ἀρχήν, 
+καὶ τῷ Αμυρταίου Παυσίρι' καὶ γὰρ οὗτος ἀπέ- 
+mg τὴν τοῦ πατρὸς ἀρχήν. καίτοι Ἰνάρω ye 
+
+᾽Αμυρταίου οὐδαμοί κω Πέρσας κακὰ πλέω 
+
+
+! Probably δέ below should be omitted; otherwise the 
+sentence cannot be translated. 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+BOOK III. 14-15 
+
+
+aloud nor wept, yet did this honour to the poor man, 
+who (as Cambyses learns from others) is none of your 
+kin?" So the messenger inquired. Psammenitus 
+answered : “Son of Cyrus, my private grief was too 
+great for weeping; but the misfortune of my com- 
+panion called for tears—one that has lost great 
+wealth and now on the threshold of old age is come 
+to beggary." When the messenger so reported, and 
+Cambyses and his court, it is said, found the answer 
+good, then, as the Egyptianstell, Croesus wept (for it 
+chanced that he too had come with Cambyses to 
+Egypt) and so did the Persians that were there; 
+Cambyses himself felt somewhat of pity, and forth- 
+with he bade that Psammenitus' son be saved alive 
+out of those that were to be slain, and that Psam- 
+menitus himself be taken from the outer part of the 
+city and brought before him. 
+
+15. As for the son, those that went for him found 
+that he was no longer living, but had been the first 
+to be hewn down; but they brought Psammenitus 
+away and led him to Cambyses ; and there he lived, 
+and no violence was done him for the rest of his 
+life. And had he but been wise enough to mind his 
+own business, he would have so far won back Egypt 
+as to be governor of it; for the Persians are wont to 
+honour king's sons; even though kings revolt from 
+them, yet they give back to their sons the sovereign 
+power. There are many instances showing that it 
+is their custom so to do, and notably the giving back 
+of his father's sovereign power to Thannyras son of 
+Inaros, and also to Pausiris son of Amyrtaeus ; yet 
+none ever did the Persians more harm than lnaros 
+
+21 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐργασαντο. νῦν δὲ µη ανώμενος κακὰ ὁ Yap- 
+μήνιτος ἔλαβε τὸν μισθό ν' ἀπιστὰς γὰρ Αἰγυπ- 
+τίους ἥλω" ἐπείτε δὲ ἐπάιστος ἐγένετο ὑπὸ Καμ- 
+βύσεω, αἷμα ταύρου πιὼν ἀπέθανε παραχρῆμα. 
+οὕτω δὴ οὗτος ἐτελεύτησε. 
+
+16. Καμβύσης δὲ ἐκ Μέμφιος ἀπίκετο ἐς Zaw 
+πόλιν, βουλόμενος ποιῆσαι τὰ δὴ καὶ ἐποίησε. 
+ἐπείτε γὰρ ἐσῆλθε ἐς τὰ τοῦ. ᾿Αμάσιος οἰκία, 
+αὐτίκα ἐκέλευε ἐκ τῆς ταφῆς τὸν ᾿Αμάσιος νέκυν 
+ἐκφέρειν ἔξω" ὡς δὲ ταῦτα ἐπιτελέα ἐγένετο, μα- 
+στιγοῦν ἐκέλευε καὶ τὰς τρίχας ἀποτίλλειν καὶ 
+κεντοῦν τε καὶ τἆλλα πάντα λυμαίνεσθαι. ἐπείτε 
+δὲ καὶ ταῦτα ἔκαμον ποιεῦντες (ὁ γὰρ δὴ νεκρὸς 
+ἅτε τεταριχευμένος ἀντεῖχέ τε καὶ οὐδὲν διεχέετο), 
+ἐκέλευσέ ptv ὁ Καμβύσης κατακαῦσαι, ἐντελλό- 
+μενος οὐκ ὅσια: Πέρσαι γὰρ θεὸν νομίξουσι εἶναι 
+πῦρ. τὸ ὧν κατακαίειν γε τοὺς νεκροὺς οὐδαμῶς 
+ἐν νόμῳ οὐδετέροισι ἐστί, Πέρσῃσι μὲν δι ὅ περ 
+εἴρηται, θεῷ οὐ δίκαιον εἶναι λέγοντες νέμειν 
+νεκρὸν ἀνθρώπου" Αἰγυπτίοισι δὲ νενόμισται πῦρ 
+θηρίον εἶναι ἔμψυχον, πάντα δὲ αὐτὸ κατεσθίειν 
+τά περ ἂν λάβῃ, πλησθὲν δὲ αὐτὸ τῆς βορῆς ovv- 
+αποθνήσκειν τῷ κατεσθιομένῳ. οὔκων θηρίοισι 
+νόμος οὐδαμῶς σφι ἐστὶ τὸν νέκυν διδόναι, καὶ 
+ιὰ ταῦτα ταριχεύουσι, ἵνα μὴ κείμενος ὑπὸ 
+εὐλέων καταβρωθῇ. οὕτω οὐδετέροισι νομιξόμενα 
+ἐνετέλλετο ποιέειν ὁ Καμβύσης. ὡς μέντοι AL- 
+γύπτιοι λέγουσι, οὐκ “Apacs ἦν ὁ ταῦτα παθών, 
+ἀλλὰ ἄλλος τις τῶν Αἰγυπτίων ἔχων τὴν αὐτὴν 
+ἡλικίην ᾿Αμάσι, τῷ λυμαινόμενοι Πέρσαι ἐδόκεον 
+᾿Αμάσι λυμαίνεσθαι. λέγουσι γὰρ ὡς πυθόμενος 
+ἐκ μαντηίου ὁ Άμασις τὰ περὶ ἑωυτὸν ἀποθανόντα 
+
+
+22 
+
+
+BOOK ΠΠ. 15-16 
+
+
+and Amyrtaeus.! But as it was, Psammenitus plotted 
+evil and got his reward ; for he was caught raising a 
+revolt among the Egyptians; and when this came to 
+Cambyses' ears, Psammenitus drank bulls' blood? and 
+forthwith died. Such was his end. 
+
+16. From Memphis Cambyses went to the city 
+Sais, desiring to do that which indeed he did. 
+Entering the house of Amasis, straightway he bade 
+carry Amasis’ body out from its place of burial; and 
+when this was accomplished, he gave command to 
+scourge it and pull out the hair and do it despite in 
+all other ways. When they were weary of doing this 
+(for the body, being embalmed, remained whole and 
+was not dissolved), Cambyses commanded to burn it, 
+a sacrilegious command ; for the Persians hold fire to 
+be a god ; therefore neither nation deems it right to 
+burn the dead, the Persians for the reason assigned, 
+as they say it is wrong to give the dead corpse of a 
+man to a god; while the Egyptians believe fire to be 
+a living beast that devours all that it catches, and 
+when sated with its meal dies with the end of that 
+whereon it feeds. Now it is by no means their 
+custom to give the dead to beasts; and this is why 
+they embalm the corpse, that it may not lie and be 
+eaten of worms. Thus Cambyses commanded the 
+doing of a thing contrary to the custom of both 
+peoples. Howbeit, as the Egyptians say, it was not 
+Amasis to whom this was done, but another Egyptian 
+of a like age, whom the Persians despitefully used 
+thinking that they so treated Amasis. For their story 
+is that Amasis learnt from an oracle what was to be 
+
+1 The revolt of the Egyptians Inaros and Amyrtaeus 
+against the Persian governor lasted from 460 to 155 B.c. 
+
+
+3 The blood was supposed to coagulate and choke the 
+drinker. (How and Wells, ad loc.) 
+
+
+23 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μέλλοντα γίνεσθαι, οὕτω δὴ ἆ ἀκεόμενος τὰ ἐπιφερό- 
+μενα τὸν μὲν ἄνθρωπον | τοῦτον τὸν μαστιγωθέντα 
+ἀποθανόντα ἔθαψε ἐπὶ τῆσι θύρῃσι ἐντὸς τῆς 
+ἑωυτοῦ θήκης, ἑ ἑωυτὸν δὲ ἐνετείλατο τῷ παιδὶ ἐν 
+μυχῷ τῆς θήκης ὡς μάλιστα θεῖναι. αἱ μέν νυν 
+ἐκ τοῦ ᾿Αμάσιος ἐντολαὶ αὗται αἱ ἐς τὴν ταφήν 
+τε καὶ τὸν ἄνθρωπον ἔχουσαι οὔ μοι δοκέουσι 
+ἀρχὴν γενέσθαι, ἄλλως δ᾽ αὐτὰ Αἰγύπτιοι σεμνοῦν. 
+
+17. Μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα ὁ Καμβύσης ἐβουλεύσατο 
+τριφασίας στρατηίας, ἐπί τε Καρχηδονίους καὶ 
+ἐπὶ ᾽Αμμωνίους καὶ ἐπὶ τοὺς μακροβίους Αἰθιο- 
+πας, οἰκημένους δὲ Λιβύης ἐ ἐπὶ τῇ votin θαλάσσῃ' 
+βουλευομένῳ δέ οἱ ἔδοξε ἐπὶ μὲν Καρχηδονίους 
+τὸν ναυτικὸν στρατὸν ἀποστέλλειν, ἐπὶ δὲ ᾿Αμ- 
+μωνίους τοῦ πεξοῦ ἀποκρίναντα, ἐπὶ δὲ τοὺς 
+Αἰθίοπας κατόπτας πρῶτον, ὀψομένους τε τὴν, ἐν 
+τούτοισι τοῖσι Αἰθίοψι λεγομένην εἶναι ἡλίου 
+τράπεξαν εἰ ἔστι ἀληθέως, καὶ πρὸς ταύτῃ τὰ 
+ἄλλα κατοψομένους, δῶρα δὲ τῷ λόγῳ φέροντας 
+τῷ udin αὐτῶν. 
+
+Ἡ δὲ τράπεζα τοῦ ἡλίου τοιήδε τις λέγεται 
+εἶναι, λειμὼν ἐστὶ ἐν τῷ προαστείῳ ἐπίπλεος 
+κρεῶν ἐφθῶν πάντων τῶν τετραπόδων, ἐ és τὸν τὰς 
+μὲν νύκτας ἐπιτηδεύοντας τιθέναι τὰ κρέα τοὺς ἐν 
+τέλεϊ ἑκάστοτε ἐόντας τῶν ἀστῶν, τὰς δὲ ἡμέρας 
+δαίνυσθαι προσιόντα τὸν βουλόμενον. φάναι δὲ 
+τοὺς ἐπιχωρίους ταῦτα τὴν γῆν αὐτὴν ἀναδιδόναι 
+ἑκάστοτε. 
+
+19. Ἡ μὲν δὴ τράπεζα τοῦ ἡλίου καλεομένη 
+λέγεται εἶναι τοιήδε. Καμβύσῃ δὲ ὡς ἔδοξε πέμ- 
+πειν τοὺς κατασκόπους, αὐτίκα μετεπέμπετο ἐξ 
+᾿Ελεφαντίνης πόλιος τῶν Ἰχθυοφάγων ἀνδρῶν 
+
+
+24 
+
+
+9 
+
+
+BOOK III. 16-19 
+
+
+done to him after his death, and so to avert this 
+doom buried this man, him that was scourged, at his 
+death by the door within his own vault, and com- 
+manded his son that he himself should be laid im 
+the farthest corner of the vault. Ithink that these 
+commands of Amasis, respecting the burial-place and 
+the man, were never given at all, and that the 
+Egyptians but please themselves with a lying tale. 
+
+17. After this Cambyses planned three expeditions, 
+against the Carchedonians,! and against the Am- 
+monians, and against the * long-lived "? Ethiopians, 
+who dwelt on the Libyan coast of the southern sea. 
+Taking counsel, he resolved to send his fleet against 
+the Carchedonians and a part of his land army against 
+the Ammonians; to Ethiopia he would send first 
+spies, to see what truth there were in the story of a 
+Table of the Sun in that country, and to spy out all 
+else besides, under the pretext of bearing gifts for 
+the Ethiopian king. 
+
+18. Now this is said to be the fashion of the Table 
+of the Sun.’ There is a meadow outside the city, 
+filled with the roast flesh of all four-footed things; 
+here during the night the men of authority among 
+the townsmen are careful to set out the meat, and 
+all day he that wishes comes and feasts thereon. 
+These meats, say the people of the country, are ever 
+produced by the earth of itself. 
+
+19. Such is the story of the Sun's Table. 
+When Cambyses was resolved to send the 
+spies, he sent straightway to fetch from the city 
+Elephantine those of the Fish-eaters who understood 
+
+1 Carthaginians. 3 cp. beginning of ch. 23. 
+
+3 'This story may be an indication of offerings made to the 
+
+
+dead, or of a region of great fertility. In Homer the gods 
+are fabled to feast with the Ethiopians. 
+
+
+25 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+TOUS ἐπισταμένους τὴν Αἰθιοπίδα γλῶσσαν. ἐν 
+ᾧ δὲ τούτους μετήισαν, ἐν τούτῳ ἐκέλευε ἐπὶ τὴν 
+Καρχηδόνα πλέειν τὸν ναυτικὸν στρατόν. Φοί- 
+νίκες δὲ οὐκ ἔφασαν ποιήσειν ταῦτα: ὁρκίοισι 
+γὰρ μεγάλοισι ἐνδεδέσθαι, καὶ οὐκ ἂν ποιέειν 
+ὅσια ἐπὶ τοὺς παῖδας τοὺς ἑωυτῶν στρατευόμενοι. 
+Φοινίκων, δὲ ov βουλομένων οὗ λοιποὶ οὐκ ἀξιό- 
+μαχοι ἐγίνοντο. Καρχηδόνιοι μέν νυν οὕτω δου- 
+λοσύνην διέφυγον πρὸς Περσέων" Καμβύσης γὰρ 
+βίην. οὐκ ἐδικαίου προσφέρειν Φοίνιξι, ὅτι σφέας 
+τε αὐτοὺς ἐδεδώκεσαν Πέρσῃσι. καὶ πᾶς ἐκ Φοινί- 
+κων ἤρτητο ὁ ναυτικὸς στρατός. δόντες δὲ καὶ 
+Κύπριοι σφέας αὐτοὺς Πέρσῃσι ἐστρατεύοντο ἐπ᾿ 
+Αἴγυπτον. 
+
+90. Ἐπείτε δὲ τῷ Ἰαμβύση ἐκ τῆς Ἔλεφαν- 
+τίνης ἀπίκοντο οἱ Ἰχθυοφάγοι, č ἔπεμπε αὐτοὺς ἐς 
+τοὺς Αἰθίοπας ἐντειλάμενος τὰ λέγειν Χρῆν καὶ 
+δῶρα φέροντας πορφύρεόν τε elua καὶ χρύσεον 
+στρεπτὸν περιαυχένιον καὶ γέλια καὶ μύρου 
+ἀλάβαστρον καὶ -φοινικηΐου. οἴνου κάδον. οἱ δὲ 
+Αἰθίοπες οὗτοι, ἐς τοὺς ἀπέπεμπε ὁ Καμβύσης, 
+λέγονται εἶναι μέγιστοι καὶ κάλλιστοι ἀνθρώπων 
+πάντων. νόμοισι δὲ καὶ ἄλλοισι χρᾶσθαι αὐτοὺς 
+κεχωρισμένοισι τῶν ἄλλων ἀνθρώπων καὶ δὴ καὶ 
+κατὰ τὴν Βασιληίην τοιῶδε' τὸν ἂν τῶν ἀστῶν 
+κρίνωσι μέγιστόν τε εἶναι καὶ κατὰ τὸ μέγαθος 
+ἔχειν τὴν i ἰσχύν, τοῦτον ἀξιοῦσι βασιλεύειν. 
+
+Ἔς τούτους δὴ ὧν τοὺς ἄνδρας ὡς ἀπίκοντο 
+
+i Ἰχθυοφάγοι διδόντες τὰ δῶρα τῷ βασιλέι 
+αὐτῶν ἔλεγον τάδε. “' Βασιλεὺς ὁ Περσέων Kap- 
+βύσης, βουλόμενος φίλος καὶ ξεῖνός τοι γενέσθαι, 
+ἡμέας τε ἀπέπεμψε ἐς λόγους τοι ἐλθεῖν κελεύων, 
+
+
+26 
+
+
+BOOK III. 19-21 
+
+
+the Ethiopian language. While they were seeking 
+these men, he bade his fleet sail against Carchedon. 
+But the Phoenicians would not consent; for they 
+were bound, they said, by a strict treaty, and could 
+not righteously attack their own sons; and the 
+Phoenicians being unwilling, the rest were of no 
+account as fighters. Thus the Carchedonians escaped 
+being enslaved by the Persians; for Cambyses would 
+not use force with the Phoenicians, seeing that they 
+had willingly given their help to the Persians, and 
+the whole fleet drew its strength from them. The 
+Cyprians too had come of their own accord to aid the 
+Persians against Egypt. 
+
+20. When the Fish-eaters came from Elephantine 
+at Cambyses’ message, he sent them to Ethiopia, 
+charged with what they should say, and bearing gifts, 
+to wit, a purple cloak and a twisted gold necklace 
+and armlets and an alabaster box of incense and a 
+cask of palm wine. These Ethiopians, to whom 
+Cambyses sent them, are said to be the tallest and 
+fairest of all men. Their way of choosing kings is 
+different from that of all others, as (it is said) are all 
+their laws; they deem worthy to be their king that 
+townsman whom they judge to be tallest and to have 
+strength proportioned to his stature. 
+
+21. These were the men to whom the Fish-eaters 
+came, offering gifts and delivering this message to 
+their king: “Cambyses king of Persia, desiring to 
+be your friend and guest, sends us with command 
+to address ourselves to you; and he offers you such 
+
+
+27 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+καὶ δῶρα ταῦτά τοι διδοῖ τοῖσι καὶ αὐτὸς μάλιστα 
+ἥδεται χρεώμενος. ὁ δὲ Αἰθίοψ μαθὼν ὅτι κα- 
+τόπται ἥκοιεν, λέγει πρὸς αὐτοὺς τοιάδε. “Οὔτε 
+ὁ Περσέων βασιλεὺ us δῶρα i ὑμέας ἔπεμψε φέροντας 
+προτιμῶν πολλοῦ ἐμοὶ ξεῖνος γενέσθαι, οὔτε ὑμεῖς 
+ο, ἀληθέα (ἥκετε γὰρ. κατόπται τῆς ἐμῆς 
+ῆς), οὔτε ἐκεῖνος ἀνήρ ἐστι δίκαιος. eL yap 
+ὃν lena, οὔ οὔτ᾽ ἂν ἐπεθύμησε χώρης ἄλλης ἢ τῆς 
+ἑωυτοῦ, οὔτ᾽ ἂν ἐς δουλοσύνην ἀνθρώπους ἢ ἦγε vm 
+ὧν μηδὲν ἠδίκηται. νῦν δὲ αὐτῷ τόξον τόδε δι- 
+δόντες τάδε ἔπεα λέγετε. “Βασιλεὺς ὁ Αἰθιόπων 
+συμβουλεύει τῷ Περσέων βασιλέι, ἐπεὰν οὕτω 
+εὐπετέως ἕλκωσι τὰ τόξα Πέρσαι ἐ ἐόντα μεγάθεϊ 
+τοσαῦτα, τότε ἐπ᾽ Αἰθίοπας τοὺς μακροβίους 
+πλήθεϊ ὑπερβαλλόμενον στρατεύεσθαι" μέχρι δὲ 
+τούτου θεοῖσι εἰδέναι χάριν, οἳ οὐκ ἐπὶ νόον τρά- 
+πουσι Αἰθιόπων παισὶ γῆν ἄλλην προσκτᾶσθαι 
+τῇ ἑωυτῶν. " 
+
+22, Ταῦτα δὲ εἴπας καὶ ἀνεὶς τὸ τόξον παρέ- 
+δωκε τοῖσι ἥκουσι. λαβὼν δὲ τὸ elpa τὸ πορ- 
+φύρεον εἰρώτα ὅ τι εἴη καὶ ὅκως πεποιημένον: 
+εἰπόντων δὲ τῶν Ἰχθυοφάγων τὴν ἀληθείην περὶ 
+τῆς πορφύρης καὶ τῆς βαφῆς, δολεροὺς μὲν τοὺς 
+ἀνθρώπους ἔφη εἶναι, δολερὰ δὲ αὐτῶν τὰ εἵματα. 
+δεύτερα δὲ τὸν ρυσὸν εἰρώτα τὸν στρεπτὸν τὸν 
+περιαυχένιον καὶ τὰ γέλια" ἐξηγεομένων δὲ τῶν 
+Ἰχθυοφάγων τὸν κόσμον αὐτοῦ, γελάσας ὁ βα- 
+
+σιλεὺς καὶ νομίσας εἶναι σφέα πέδας εἶπε ὡς παρ᾽ 
+ἑωυτοῖσι eio} ῥωμαλεώτεραι τουτέων πέδαι. Tpi- 
+τον δὲ εἰρώτα͵ τὸ μύρον" εἰπόντων δὲ τῆς ποιήσιος 
+πέρι καὶ ἀλείψιος, τὸν αὐτὸν. λόγον τὸν καὶ περὶ 
+τοῦ εἵματος εἶπε. ὡς δὲ ἐς τὸν οἶνον ἀπίκετο καὶ 
+
+
+28 
+
+
+BOOK III. 21-22 
+
+
+gifts as he himself chiefly delights to use." But the 
+Ethiopian, perceiving that they had come as spies, 
+spoke thus to them: “ It is not because he sets great 
+store by my friendship that the Persian King sends 
+you with gifts, nor do you speak the truth (for you 
+have come to spy out my dominions), nor is your 
+king a righteous man; for were he such, he would 
+not have coveted any country other than his own, 
+nor would he now try to enslave men who have done 
+him no wrong. Now, give him this bow, and this 
+message: *The King of the Ethiopians counsels the 
+King of the Persians, when the Persians can draw a 
+bow of this greatness as easily as I do, then to bring 
+overwhelming odds to attack the long-lived Ethio- 
+pians; but till then, to thank the gods who put it 
+not in the minds of the sons of the Ethiopians to win 
+more territory than they have.'" | 
+22. So speaking he unstrung the bow and gave it 
+to the men who had come. Then, taking the purple 
+cloak, he asked what it was and how it was made; 
+and when the Fish-eaters told him the truth about 
+the purple and the way of dyeing, he said that both 
+the men and their garments were full of guile. Next 
+he inquired about the twisted gold necklace and the 
+bracelets; and when the Fish-eaters told him how 
+they were made, the king smiled, and, thinking 
+them to be fetters, said: “We have stronger chains 
+than these." Thirdly he inquired about the incense ; 
+and when they told him of the making and the apply- 
+ing of it, he made the same reply as about the cloak. 
+But when he came to the wine and asked about the 
+
+
+29 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐπύθετο αὐτοῦ τὴν ποίησιν, ὑπερησθεὶς τῷ πόματι 
+ἐπείρετο ὅ τι τε σιτέεται ὁ βασιλεὺς καὶ χρόνον 
+ὁκόσον μακρότατον ἀνὴρ Πέρσης Swe. où δὲ 
+σιτέεσθαι μὲν τὸν ἄρτον εἶπον, ἐξηγησάμενοι τῶν 
+πυρῶν τὴν φύσιν, ὀγδώκοντα δὲ ἔτεα ξόης πλή- 
+popa ἀνδρὶ μακρότατον προκέεσθαι.. πρὸς ταῦτα 
+ὁ Αἰθίοψ ἔφη, οὐδὲν θωμάξειν | εἰ σιτεόµενοι κόπρον 
+ἔτεα ὀλίγα ζώουσι: οὐδὲ γὰρ ἂν τοσαῦτα δύνασθαι 
+ζώειν σφέας, εἰ μὴ τῷ πόματι ἀνέφερον, φράζων 
+τοῖσι Ἰχθυοφάγοισι τὸν οἶνον' τούτῳ γὰρ ἑωυτοὺς 
+ὑπὸ Περσέων ἑσσοῦσθαι. 
+. 98, ᾿Αντειρομένων δὲ τὸν βασιλέα τῶν Tx6vo- 
+φάγων τῆς fons καὶ διαίτης πέρι, ἔτεα μὲν ἐς 
+εἴκοσι καὶ ἑκατὸν τοὺς πολλοὺς αὐτῶν ἀπικνέε- 
+σθαι, ὑπερβάλλειν. δὲ τινὰς καὶ ταῦτα, σίτησιν δὲ 
+εἶναι κρέα τε ἐφθὰ. καὶ πόμα γάλα. θῶμα δὲ. 
+ποιευμένων τῶν κατασκόπων. περὶ τῶν ἐτέων, ἐπὶ 
+κρήνην σφι ἡγήσασθαι, à ἀπ᾽ ἧς λονόμενοι λιπαρώ- 
+τεροι ἐγίνοντο, κατά περ εἰ ἐλαίου ety ὄξειν δὲ 
+ἀπ᾿ αὐτῆς ὡς eb ἴων. ἀσθενὲς δὲ τὸ ὕδωρ τῆς 
+κρήνης ταύτης οὕτω δή τι ἔλεγον εἶναι οἱ κατά- 
+σκοποι ὥστε μηδὲν οἷόν T εἶναι ἐπ᾽ αὐτοῦ èri- 
+πλέειν, μήτε ξύλον μήτε τῶν ὅσα ξύλου ἐστὶ 
+ἐ λαφρότερα, ἀλλὰ πάντα σφέα χωρέειν ἐς βυσσὀν. 
+τὸ δὲ ὕδωρ τοῦτο εἴ σφι ἐστὶ ἀληθέως οἷόν τι 
+λέγεται, διὰ τοῦτο ἂν εἶεν, τούτῳ τὰ πάντα χρεώ- 
+μενοι, μακρόβιοι. ἀπὸ τῆς κρήνης δὲ ἀπαλ- 
+λασσομένων, ἀγαγεῖν σφεας ἐς δεσμωτήριον 
+ἀνδρῶν, ἔν α τοὺς πάντας ἐν πέ noe χρυσέῃσι 
+δεδέσθαι. ἔστι δὲ ἐν τούτοισι τοῖσι Αἰθίοψι 
+πάντων ὁ χαλκὸς σπανιώτατον καὶ τιμιώτατον. 
+θεησάμενοι. δὲ καὶ τὸ δεσμωτήριον, ἐθεήσαντο καὶ 
+τὴν τοῦ ἡλίου λεγομένην τράπεζαν. 
+Ὃ 
+
+
+BOOK III. 22-23 
+
+
+making of it, he was vastly pleased with the draught, 
+and asked further what food their king ate, and what 
+was the greatest age to which a Persian lived. They 
+told him their king ate bread, showing him how 
+wheat grew; and said that the full age to which a 
+man might hope to live was eighty years. Then said 
+the Ethiopian, it was no wonder that their lives were 
+so short, if they ate dung!; they would never attain 
+even to that age were it not for the strengthening 
+power of the draught, —whereby he signified to the 
+Fish-eaters the wine,— for in this, he said, the Persians 
+excelled the Ethiopians. 
+
+23. The Fish-eaters then in turn asking of the 
+Ethiopian length of life and diet, he said that most 
+of them attained to an hundred and twenty years, 
+and some even to more; their food was roast meat 
+and their drink milk. The spies showed wonder at 
+the tale of years; whereon he led them, it is said, to 
+a spring, by washing wherein they grew sleeker, as 
+though it were of oil; and it smelt as it were of 
+violets. So frail, the spies said, was this water, that 
+nothing would float on it, neither wood nor anything 
+lighter than wood, but all sank to the bottom. If 
+this water be truly such as they say, it is likely that 
+their constant use of it makes the people long-lived. 
+When they left the spring, the king led them to a 
+prison where all the men were bound with fetters of 
+gold. Among these Ethiopians there is nothing so 
+scarce and so precious as bronze. Then, having 
+seen the prison, they saw what is called the Table 
+of the Sun. l 
+
+
+! 4.6. grain produced by the manured soil. 
+
+
+3I 
+
+
+` 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+24. Μετὰ δὲ ταύτην τελευταίας ἐθεήσαντο τὰς 
+θήκας αὐτῶν, ai λέγονται σκευάξεσθαι ἐξ ὑέλου 
+τρόπῳ Toupee ἐπεὰν τὸν νεκρὸν ἰσχνήνωσι, εἴτε 
+δὴ κατά περ Αἰγύπτιοι εἴτε ἄλλως κως, γυψώ- 
+σαντες ἅπαντα αὐτὸν γραφῇ κοσμέουσι, ἐξο- 
+μοιεῦντες τὸ εἶδος ἐς τὸ δυνατόν, ἔπειτα δέ οἱ 
+περιιστᾶσι στήλην ἐξ ὑέλου πεποιημένην κοίλην" 
+ἣ δέ σφι πολλὴ καὶ εὐεργὸς ὀρύσσεται. ἐν μέσῃ 
+δὲ τῇ στήλῃ ἐνεὼν διαφαίνεται ὁ νέκυς, οὔτε 
+ὀδμὴν οὐδεμίαν ἄχαριν παρεχόμενος οὔτε ἆλλο 
+ἀεικὲς οὐδέν, καὶ ἔχει πάντα φανερὰ ὁμοίως αὐτῷ 
+τῷ νέκυϊ. ἐνιαυτὸν μὲν δὴ ἔ ἔχουσι τὴν στήλην ἐν 
+τοῖσι οἰκίοισι οἱ μάλιστα προσήκοντες, πάντων 
+ἀπαρχόμενοι καὶ θυσίας οἱ προσάγοντες: μετὰ 
+
+ὲ ταῦτα ἐκκομίσαντες ἱστᾶσι περὶ τὴν πόλιν. 
+
+95. Θεησάμενοι δὲ τὰ πάντα οἱ κατάσκοποι 
+ἀπαλλάσσοντο ὀπίσω. ἀπαγγειλάντων δὲ ταῦτα 
+τούτων, αὐτίκα ὁ Καμβύσης ὀργὴν ποιησάμενος 
+ἐστρατεύετο ἐπὶ τοὺς Αἰθίοπας, οὔτε παρασκευὴν 
+σίτου .οὐδεμίαν παραγγείλας, οὔτε λόγον ἑωυτῷ 
+δοὺς ὅτι ἐς τὰ ἔσχατα γῆς ἔμελλε στρατεύεσθαι" 
+οἷα δὲ ἐμμανής τε ἐὼν καὶ οὐ φρενήρης, ὡς ἤκουε 
+τῶν 1 θυοφάγων, ἐστρατεύετο, Ἑλλήνων μὲν τοὺς 
+παρεόντας αὐτοῦ τάξας ὑπομένειν, τὸν δὲ πεξὸν 
+πάντα ἅμα ἀγόμενος. ἐπείτε δὲ στρατευόμενος 
+ἐγένετο ἐν Θήβῃσι, à ἀπέκρινε τοῦ στρατοῦ ὡς πέντε 
+μυριάδας, καὶ τούτοισι μὲν ἐνετέλλετο ᾿Αμμωνίους 
+ἐξανδραποδισαμένους τὸ χρηστήριον τὸ τοῦ Διὸς 
+ἐμπρῆσαι, αὐτὸς δὲ τὸν. λοιπὸν ἄγων στρατὸν ἤιε 
+ἐπὶ τοὺς Αἰθίοπας. πρὶν δὲ τῆς ὁδοῦ τὸ πέμπτον 
+μέρος διεληλυθέναι τὴν στρατιήν, αὐτίκα πάντα 
+αὐτοὺς τὰ εἶχον σιτίων ἐχόμενα ἐπελελοίπεε, μετὰ 
+
+
+32 
+
+
+BOOK ΤΠ. 24-25 
+
+
+24. Last after this they viewed the Ethiopian 
+coffins; these are said to be made of porcelain, as I 
+shall describe: they make the dead body to shrink, 
+either as the Egyptians do or in some other way, 
+then cover it with gypsum and paint it all as far 
+as they may in the likeness of the living man; then 
+they set it within a hollow pillar of porcelain, which 
+they dig in abundance from the ground, and it is 
+easily wrought; the body can be seen in the pillar 
+through the porcelain, no evil stench nor aught 
+unseemly proceeding from it, and showing clearly 
+all its parts, as if it were the dead man himself. 
+The nearest of kin keep the pillar in their house 
+for a year, giving it of the firstfruits and offering it 
+sacrifices; after which they bring the pillars out and 
+set them round about the city. 
+
+25. Having viewed all, the spies departed back 
+again. When they reported all this, Cambyses was 
+angry, and marched forthwith against the Ethiopians, 
+neither giving command for any provision of food nor 
+considering that he was about to lead his army to the 
+ends of the earth; and being not in his right mind 
+but mad, he marched at once on hearing from the 
+Fish-eaters, setting the Greeks who were with him 
+to await him where they were, and taking with him 
+all his land army. When he came in his march to 
+Thebes, he parted about fifty thousand men from his 
+army, and charged them to enslave the Ammonians 
+and burn the oracle of Zeus; and he himself went on 
+towards Ethiopia with the rest of his host. But 
+before his army had accomplished the fifth part of 
+their journey they had come to an end of all there 
+was in the way of provision, and after the food was . 
+
+
+33 
+VOL. II. D 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δὲ τὰ σιτία καὶ τὰ ὑποζύγια ἐπέλιπε κατεσθιό- 
+μενα. εὖ μέν νυν μαθὼν ταῦτα ὁ Καμβύσης 
+ἐγνωσιμάχεε καὶ ἀπῆγε ὀπίσω τὸν στρατόν, ἐπὶ 
+τῇ ἀρχῆθεν γενομένῃ ἁμαρτάδι ἡ ἦν ἂν ἀνὴρ σοφός" 
+νῦν δὲ οὐδένα λόγον ποιεύμενος ἤιε αἰεὶ ἐς τὸ 
+πρόσω. οἱ δὲ στρατιῶται ἕως μέν τι εἶχον ἐκ τῆς 
+γῆς λαμβάνειν, ποιηφαγέοντες διέξωον, ἐ ἐπεὶ δὲ ἐς 
+τὴν ψάμμον ἀπίκοντο, δεινὸν ἔ ἔργον αὐτῶν τίνες 
+ἐργάσαντο" ἐκ δεκάδος γὰρ ἕνα σφέων αὐτῶν 
+ἀποκληρώσαντες κατέ ayov. πυθόμενος δὲ ταῦτα 
+ὁ Καμβύσης, δείσας την ἀλληλοφαγίην, ἀπεὶς τὸν 
+ἐπ᾽ Αἰθίοπας στόλον ὀπίσω ἐπορεύετο καὶ ἀπικνέε- 
+ταί ἐς Θήβας πολλοὺς ἀπολέσας τοῦ στρατοῦ" 
+ἐκ Θηβέων δὲ καταβὰς ἐς Μέμφιν τοὺς Ελληνας 
+ἀπῆκε ἀποπλέειν. 
+
+26. Ὁ μὲν ἐπ᾽ Αἰθίοπας στόλος οὕτω ἔπρηξε' 
+οἱ Ò αὐτῶν ἐπ᾽ ᾿Αμμωνίους ἀποσταλέντες στρα- 
+τεύεσθαι, ἐπείτε ὁρμηθέντες ἐκ τῶν Θηβέων ἐπο- 
+ρεύοντο᾽ ἔχοντες ἀγωγούς, ἀπικόμενοι μὲν φανεροί 
+εἰσι ἐς Ὄασιν πόλι; τὴν ἔχουσι μὲν Σάμιοι τῆς 
+Αἰσ μωνίης φυλῆς λεγόμενοι εἶναι, ἀπέχουσι δὲ 
+ἑπτὰ ἡμερέων ὁδὸν ἆ ἀπὸ Θηβέων διὰ ψ-άμμου' ὀνο- 
+μάξεται δὲ ὁ χῶρος οὗτος κατὰ Ἑλλήνων γλῶσσαν 
+Μακάρων νῆσος. ` és. μὲν δὴ τοῦτον τὸν χῶρον 
+λέγεται ἀπικέσθαι τὸν στρατόν, τὸ ἐνθεῦτεν δέ, 
+ὅτι μὴ αὐτοὶ ᾿Αμμώνιοι καὶ οἱ τούτων ἀκούσαντες, 
+ἄλλοι οὐδένες οὐδὲν ἔχουσι εἰπεῖν περὶ αὐτῶν" 
+οὔτε γὰρ ἐς τοὺς ᾽Αμμωνίους ἀπίκοντο οὔτε ὀπίσω 
+ἐνόστησαν. λέγεται δὲ κατὰ τάδε ὑπ᾽ αὐτῶν 
+᾿Αμμωνίων' ἐπειδὴ ἐκ τῆς ᾿Οάσιος ταύτης ἑέναι 
+διὰ τῆς ψάμμου ἐπὶ σφέας, γενέσθαι τε αὐτοὺς 
+μεταξύ κου μάλιστα αὐτῶν τε καὶ τῆς Ὀάσιος, 
+
+
+34 
+
+
+BOOK ΠΠ. 25-26 
+
+
+gone they ate the beasts of burden till there was 
+none of these left also. Now had Cambyses, when 
+he perceived this, changed his mind and led his 
+army back again, he had been a wise man at last 
+after his first fault; but as it was, he went ever 
+forward, nothing recking. While his soldiers could 
+get anything from the earth, they kept themselves 
+alive by eating grass; but when they came to the 
+sandy desert, certain of them did a terrible deed, 
+taking by lot one man out of ten and eating him. 
+Hearing this, Cambyses feared their becoming can- 
+nibals, and so gave up his expedition against the 
+Ethiopians and marched back to Thebes, with the 
+los of many of his army; from Thebes he came 
+down to Memphis, and sent the Greeks to sail away. 
+
+26. So fared the expedition against Ethiopia. As 
+for those of the host who were sent to march against 
+the Ammonians, they set forth and journeyed from 
+Thebes with guides; and it is known that they came 
+to the city Oasis,! where dwell Samians said to be of 
+the Aeschrionian tribe, seven days’ march from 
+Thebes across sandy desert; this place is called, in 
+the Greek language, the Island of the Blest. Thus 
+far, it is said, the army came; after that, save 
+the Ammonians themselves and those who heard 
+from them, no man can say aught of them; for they 
+neither reached the Ammonians nor returned back. 
+But this is what the Ammonians themselves say: 
+When the Persians were crossing the sand from the 
+Oasis to attack them, and were about midway be- 
+tween their country and the Oasis, while they were 
+
+1 Oasis means simply a planted place; Herodotus makes 
+it 8 proper name. What he means here is the ‘‘ Great 
+
+
+oasis" of Khargeh, about seven days’ journey from Thebes, 
+as he says. 
+
+
+35 
+D 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἄριστον αἱρεομένοισι αὐτοῖσι ἐπιπνεῦσαι νότον 
+μέγαν τε καὶ ἐξαίσιον, Φορέοντα δὲ θῖνας τῆς 
+ψάμμου καταχῶσαι σφέας, καὶ τρόπῳ τοιούτῳ 
+ἀφανισθῆναι. ᾿Αμμώνιοι μὲν οὕτω λέγουσι γενέ- 
+σθαι περὶ τῆς στρατιῆς ταύτης. 
+
+27. ᾿Απιγμένου δὲ Καμβύσεω ἐ ἐς Μέμφιν ἐφάνη 
+Αἰγυπτίοισι ὁ ὁ "Ams, τὸν "Ελληνες Ἔπαφον, καλέ- 
+oval’ ἐπιφανέος δὲ τούτου γενομένου αὐτίκα οἱ 
+Αἰγύπτιοι εἵματα ἐφόρεον τὰ κάλλιστα καὶ ἦσαν 
+ἐν θαλίῃσι. ἰδὼν δὲ ταῦτα τοὺς Αἰγυπτίους ποι- 
+εὔντας ὁ Καμβύσης, πάγχυ σφέας καταδόξας 
+ἑωυτοῦ κακῶς πρήξαντος χαρμόσυνα ταῦτα. ποιέ-. 
+ειν, ἐκάλεε TOUS ἐπιτρόπους τῆς Μέμφιος, ἀπικο- 
+μένους δὲ ἐς ὄψιν εἴρετο ὅ τι πρότερον μὲν ἐόντος 
+αὐτοῦ ἐν Μέμφι ἐ ἐποίευν τοιοῦτον οὐδὲν Αἰγύπτιοι, 
+τότε δὲ ἐπεὶ αὐτὸς παρείη τῆς στρατιῆς πλῆθός 
+τι ἀποβαλών. οἳ δὲ ἔφραζον ὥς σφι θεὸς εἴη 
+φανεὶς διὰ «χρόνου πολλοῦ ἐἑωθὼς ἐπιφαίνεσθαι, 
+καὶ ὡς ἐπεὰν φανῆ τότε πάντες Αἰγύπτιοι κεχαρη- 
+KÓTES ὁρτάξοιεν. ταῦτα ἀκούσας o Καμβύσης ἔφη 
+ψεύδεσθαι σφέας καὶ ὡς ψευδομένους E 
+SENE 
+
+᾿Αποκτείνας δὲ τούτους δεύτερα τοὺς ἱρέας 
+cede ἐς ὄψων λεγόντων δὲ κατὰ ταὐτὰ τῶν 
+ἱρέων, ou λήσειν ἔφη αὐτὸν εἰ θεός τις χειροήθης 
+ἀπιγμένος εἴη Αἰγυπτίοισι. τοσαῦτα δὲ εἴπας 
+ἀπάγειν ἐκέλευε τὸν "Art TOUS ἱρέας. οἳ μὲν δὴ 
+μετήισαν ,ἔξοντες. ὁ δὲ "Arts οὗτος. ὁ ὌἜπαφος 
+γίνεται μόσχος ἐκ βοός, ἥτις οὐκέτι οἵη τε γίνεται 
+ἐς γαστέρα ἄλλον βάλλεσθαι γόνον. Αἰγύπτιοι 
+δὲ λέγουσι σέλας ἐπὶ τὴν βοῦν ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ. 
+κατίσχειν, καί μιν ἐκ τούτου τίκτειν τὸν ᾿Απιν. 
+
+
+36 
+
+
+BOOK III. 26-28 
+
+
+breakfasting a great arid violent south wind arose, 
+which buried them in the masses of sand which it 
+bore; and so they disappeared from sight. Such is 
+the Ammonian tale about this army. 
+
+27. After Cambyses was come to Memphis there 
+appeared in Egypt that Apis! whom the Greeks 
+call Epaphus; at which revelation straightway the 
+Egyptians donned their fairest garments and kept 
+high festival. Seeing the Egyptians so doing, Cam- 
+byses was fully persuaded that these signs of joy 
+were for his misfortunes, and summoned the rulers 
+of Memphis; when they came before him he asked 
+them why the Egyptians acted so at the moment of 
+his coming with so many of his army lost, though 
+they had done nothing like it when he was before at 
+Memphis. The rulers told him that a god, who had 
+been wont to reveal himself at long intervals of time, 
+had now appeared to them; and that all Egypt 
+rejoiced and made holiday whenever he so appeared. 
+At this Cambyses said that they lied, and he punished 
+them with death for their lie. 
+
+28. Having put them to death, he next summoned 
+the priests before him. When they gave him the 
+same account, he said that “if a tame god had come 
+to the Egyptians he would know it”; and with no 
+more words he bade the priests bring Apis. So they 
+went to seek and bring him. This Apis, or Epaphus, 
+is a calf born of a cow that can never conceive again. 
+By what the Egyptians say, the cow is made pregnant 
+by a light from heaven, and thereafter gives birth to 
+
+
+1 cp. ii. 38. 
+37 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἔχει δὲ 0 0 poo ος οὗτος ὁ “Ams καλεόμενος σημήια 
+τοιάδε ἐὼν μέλας, ἐπὶ μὲν τῷ μετώπῳ λευκόν τι 
+τρίγωνον, ἐπὶ δὲ τοῦ νώτου αἰετὸν εἰκασμένον, ἐν 
+δὲ τῇ οὐρῇ τὰς τρίχας διπλᾶς, ὑπὸ δὲ τῇ γλώσσῃ 
+κάνθαρον. 
+
+29. Ὡς δὲ ἢ Ἴγαγον τὸν "Amv οἱ ἱρέες, ὁ Καμβύ- 
+σης, οἷα ἐὼν ὑπομαργότερος, σπασάμενος τὸ ἐγχει- 
+ρίδιον, θέλων τύψαι τὴν γαστέρα τοῦ "Απιος παίει 
+τὸν μηρόν' γελάσας δὲ εἶπε πρὸς τοὺς ἱρέας aU 
+κακαὶ κεφαλαί, τοιοῦτοι θεοὶ γίνονται, ἔναιμοί τε 
+καὶ σαρκώδεες καὶ ἐπαΐοντες σιδηρίων; ἄξιος μέν 
+ye Αἰγυπτίων οὗτός γε ὁ θεός, à ἀτάρ τοι ὑμεῖς γε 
+οὐ χαίροντες γέλωτα ἐμὲ θήσεσθε.᾽ | ταῦτα εἴπας 
+ἐνετείλατο τοῖσι ταῦτα πρήσσουσι τοὺς μὲν ἱρέας 
+ἀπομαστιγῶσαι, Αἰγυπτίων δὲ τῶν ἄλλων τὸν 
+ἂν λάβωσι ὁρτάξοντα κτείνειν. ὁρτὴ μὲν δὴ διελέ- 
+AUTO Αἰγυπτίοισι, οἱ δὲ ἱρέες ἐδικαιεῦντο, ὁ δὲ 
+
+"Amis πεπληγμένος τὸν μηρὸν ἔφθινε ἐν τῷ ἱρῷ 
+κατακείμενος. καὶ τὸν μὲν τελευτήσαντα ἐκ τοῦ 
+τρώματος ἔθαψαν οὗ ἱρέες λάθρῃ Καμβύσεω. 
+
+90. Καμβύσης δέ, ὡς λέγουσι Αἰγύπτιοι, 
+αὐτίκα διὰ τοῦτο τὸ ἀδίκημα ἐμάνη, ἐὼν οὐδὲ 
+πρότερον φρενήρης. καὶ πρῶτα uev τῶν κακῶν 
+ἐξεργάσατο τὸν ἀδελφεὸν. Σμέρδιν. ἐόντα πατρὸς 
+καὶ μητρὸς τῆς αὐτῆς, τὸν ἀπέπεμψε ἐς Πέρσας 
+φθόνῳ ἐξ Αἰγύπτου, ὅτι τὸ τόξον. μοῦνος 
+Περσέων ὅσον τε ἐπὶ δύο δακτύλους εἴρυσε, τὸ 
+παρὰ τοῦ Αἰθίοπος ἤνεικαν οἱ Ἰχθυοφάγοι, τῶν 
+δὲ ἄλλων {Περσέων οὐδεὶς οἷός τε ἐγένετο. ἀποι- 
+χομένου ὧν ἐς Πέρσας τοῦ Σμέρδιος ὄψιν εἶδε ὁ 
+Καμβύσης ἐν τῷ ὕπνῳ τοιήνδε" ἔδοξέ οἱ ἄγγελον 
+ἐλθόντα ἐκ Περσέων ἀγγέλλειν ὡς ἐν τῷ θρόνῳ 
+
+
+38 
+
+
+[14 - | ΜΝ E WU. LO CAE dod date TAA - ΝΤ Τα... ον ο την L. να πα πμακ 
+
+
+BOOK III. 28-30 
+
+
+Apis. The marks of this calf called Apis are these : 
+he is black, and has on his forehead a three-cornered 
+white spot, and the likeness of an eagle on his 
+back; the hairs of the tail are double, and there is 
+a knot under the tongue. 
+
+29. When the priests led Apis in, Cambyses—for 
+he was well-nigh mad—drew his dagger and made 
+to stab the calf in the belly, but smote the thigh; 
+then laughing he said to the priests: “ Wretched 
+wights, are these your gods, creatures of flesh and 
+blood that can feel weapons of iron? that is a god 
+worthy of the Egyptians. But for you, you shall 
+suffer for making me your laughing-stock.” So 
+saying he bade those, whose business it was, to 
+scourge the priests well, and to kill any other 
+Egyptian whom they found holiday-making. -So the 
+Egyptian festival was ended, and the priests were 
+punished, and Apis lay in the temple and died of the 
+blow on the thigh. When he was dead of the wound, 
+the priests buried him without Cambyses' knowledge. 
+
+30. By reason of this wrongful deed, as the 
+Egyptians say, Cambyses’ former want of sense 
+turned straightway to madness. His first evil act 
+was to make away with his full brother Smerdis, 
+whom he had sent away from Egypt to Persia 
+out of jealousy, because Smerdis alone could 
+draw the bow brought from the Ethiopian by the 
+Fish-eaters as far as two fingerbreadths; but no 
+other Persian could draw it. Smerdis having gone 
+to Persia, Cambyses saw in a dream a vision, whereby 
+it seemed to him that a messenger came from Persia 
+
+
+39 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+TÓ βασιληίφ ἱξόμενος Σμέρδις τῇ κεφαλῇ τοῦ 
+οὐρανοῦ αύσειε. πρὸς ὧν ταῦτα δείσας περὶ 
+ἑωυτοῦ μή μεν ἀποκτείνας ὁ ) ἀδελφεὸς d ἄρχῃ, πέμπει 
+
+Πρηξάσπεα ἐς Πέρσας, ὃς ἦν οἱ ἀνὴρ Περσέων 
+πιστότατος, ἀποκτενέοντά μων. ὃ δὲ ἀναβὰς ἐς 
+Σοῦσα ἆ ἀπέκτεινε Σμέρδιν, ot μὲν λέγουσι ἐπ᾽ ἄγρην 
+ἐξαγαγόντα, οἳ δὲ ἐς τὴν ᾿Ερυθρὴν θάλασσαν προ- 
+αγαγόντα καταποντῶσαι. 
+
+31. Πρῶτον μὲν δὴ λέγουσι Καμβύσῃ τῶν κακῶν 
+ἄρξαι τοῦτο' δεύτερα δὲ ἐξεργάσατο τὴν ἀδελφεὴν 
+ἑσπομένην οἱ ἐς Αἴγυπτον, τῇ καὶ συνοίκεε καὶ ἦν 
+οἱ ἀπ᾽ ἀμφοτέρων ἀδελφεή. ἔγημε. δὲ αὐτὴν ὧδε: 
+οὐδαμῶς γὰρ ἐώθεσαν πρότερον τῇσι ἀδελφεῇσι 
+συνοικέειν Πέρσαι. ἠράσθη μιῆς τῶν ἀδελφεῶν 
+Καμβύσης, καὶ ἔπειτα Βουλόμενος αὐτὴν γῆμαι, 
+ὅτι οὐκ ἐωθότα ἐπενόεε ποιήσειν, εἴρετο καλέσας 
+τοὺς βασιληίους δικαστὰς εἴ τις ἐστὶ κελεύων 
+νόμος τὸν βουλόμενον ἀδελφεῇ συνοικέειν. οἱ δὲ 
+βασιλήιοι δικασταὶ κεκριμένοι ἄνδρες «γίνονται 
+Περσέων, ἐς οὗ ἀποθάνωσι ἤ σφι παρευρεθῇ τι 
+ἄδικον, µέχρι τούτου" οὗτοι δὲ τοῖσι Πέρσῃσι 
+δίκας δικάξουσι, καὶ ἐξηγηταὶ τῶν "πατρίων θεσμῶν 
+γίνονται, καὶ πάντα ἐς τούτους ἀνακέεται. εἰρο- 
+μένου ὧν τοῦ Καμβύσεω, i ὑπεκρίνοντο. αὐτῷ οὗτοι 
+καὶ δίκαια καὶ ἀσφαλέα, φάμενοι νόμον οὐδένα 
+ἐξευρίσκειν ὃς κελεύει ἀδελφεῇ συνοικέειν ἀδελ- 
+φεόν, ἄλλον μέντοι ἐξευρηκέναι νόμον, τῷ βασιλεύ- 
+οντι Περσέων ἐξεῖναι ποιέειν τὸ ἂν βούληται. 
+οὕτω οὔτε τὸν νόμον ἔλυσαν δείσαντες Καμβύσεα, 
+ἵνα τε μὴ αὐτοὶ ἀπόλωνται τὸν νόμον περιστέλ- 
+λοντες, παρεξεῦρον ἄλλον νόμον σύμμαχον τῷ 
+
+
+49 
+
+
+BOOK ΠΙ. 30-31 
+
+
+and told him that Smerdis had sat on the royal throne 
+with his head reaching to heaven. Fearing therefore 
+for himself, lest his brother might slay him and so 
+
+_be king, he sent to Persia Prexaspes, the trustiest of 
+his Persians, to kill Smerdis. Prexaspes went up to 
+Susa and so did; some say that he took Smerdis out 
+a-hunting, others that he brought him to the Red! 
+Sea and there drowned him. 
+
+31. This, they say, was the first of Cambyses’ evil 
+acts; next, he made away with his full sister, who 
+had come with him to Egypt, and whom he had 
+taken to wife. He married her on this wise (for before 
+this, it had by no means been customary for Persians 
+to marry their sisters): Cambyses was enamoured of 
+one of his sisters and presently desired to take her 
+to wife; but his intention being contrary to usage, 
+he summoned the royal judges ? and inquired whether 
+there were any law suffering one, that so desired, to 
+marry his sister. These royal judges are men chosen 
+out from the Persians to be so till they die or are 
+detected in some injustice; it is they who decide 
+suits in Persia and interpret the laws of the land; 
+all matters are referred tothem. These then replied 
+to Cambyses with an answer which was both just and 
+safe, namely, that they could find no law giving a 
+brother power to marry his sister ; but that they had 
+also found a law whereby the King of Persia might 
+do whatsoever he wished. Thus they broke not 
+the law for fear of Cambyses, and, to save them- 
+selves from death for maintaining it, they found 
+
+
+1 Not our Red Sea ('ApáBios κόλπος) but the Persian Gulf, 
+probably; but it is to be noted that Herodotus has no 
+definite knowledge of a gulf between Persia and Arabia. 
+
+3 A standing body of seven ; cp. Book of Esther, i. 14. 
+
+
+- 4I 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+θέλοντι γαμέειν ἀδελφεάς. τότε μὲν δὴ ὁ Kap- 
+Βύσης ἔγημε τὴν ἐρωμένην, μετὰ μέντοι οὐ πολλὸν 
+χρόνον ἔσχε ἄλλην ἀδελφεήν. τουτέων δῆτα τὴν 
+νεωτέρην ἐπισπομένην οἱ ἐπ᾽ Αἴγυπτον κτείνει. 
+
+32. ᾿Αμϕὶ δὲ τῷ θανάτῳ αὐτῆς διξὸς ὥσπερ 
+περὶ Σμέρδιος λέγεται λόγος. "E λληνες μὲν 
+λέγουσι Καμβύσεα συμβαλεῖν σκύμνον λέοντος 
+σκύλακι κυνός, θεωρέειν δὲ καὶ τὴν γυναῖκα ταύ- 
+την, νικωμένου δὲ τοῦ σκύλακος ἀδελφεὸν αὐτοῦ 
+ἄλλον σκύλακα ἀπορρήξαντα τὸν δεσμὸν tapa- 
+γενέσθαι οἱ, δύο δὲ γενομένους οὕτω δη τοὺς 
+σκύλακας ἐπικρατῆσαι τοῦ σκύμνου. καὶ τὸν 
+μὲν Καμβύσεα ἥδεσθαι θεώμενον, τὴν δὲ παρη- 
+μένην δακρύειν. Καμβύσεα δὲ μαθόντα τοῦτο 
+ἐπειρέσθαι δι ὅ τι δακρύει, τὴν δὲ εἰπεῖν ὡς ἐδοῦσα 
+τὸν σκύλακα τῷ ἀδελφεῷ τιμωρήσαντα δακρύσειε, 
+μνησθεῖσά τε Σμέρδιος καὶ μαθοῦσα d ὡς ἐκείνῳ οὐκ 
+εἴη ὁ τιμωρήσων. "Ελληνες μὲν δὴ διὰ τοῦτο τὸ 
+ἔπος φασὶ αὐτὴν ἀπολέσθαι ὑπὸ Καμβύσεω, 
+Αἰγύπτιοι δὲ ὦ ὡς τραπέζῃ παρακατημένων λαβοῦ- 
+σαν θρίδακα τὴν γυναῖκα περιτῖλαι καὶ ἐπανειρέ- 
+σθαι τὸν ἄνδρα κότερον περιτετιλµένη 7 θρίδαξ 
+
+ἢ δασέα εἴη καλλίων, καὶ τὸν φάναι δασέαν, τὴν 
+δ εὐπεῖν " Ταύτην μέντοι κοτὲ σὺ τὴν θρίδακα 
+ἐμιμήσαο τὸν Κύρου οἶκον ἀποψιλώσας. τὸν δὲ 
+θυμωθέντα ἐμπηδῆσαι αὐτῇ ἐχούσῃ ἐν γαστρί, καί 
+μιν ἐκτρώσασαν ἀποθανεῖν. 
+
+33. Ταῦτα μὲν ἐς τοὺς οἰκηίους ὁ Καμβύσης 
+ἐξεμάνη, εἴτε δὴ διὰ τὸν Amu εἴτε καὶ ANNOS, οἷα 
+πολλὰ ἔωθε ἀνθρώπους κακὰ καταλαμβάνειν" καὶ 
+γὰρ τινὰ ἐκ γενεῆς νοῦσον μεγάλην λέγεται € ἔχειν 
+ὁ Καμβύσης, τὴν ἱρὴν ὀνομάζουσι τινές. οὔ νύν 
+
+
+42 
+
+
+BOOK III. 31-33 
+
+
+another law to justify one that desired wedlock with 
+sisters. So for the nonce Cambyses married her of 
+whom he was enamoured; yet presently he took 
+another sister to wife. It was the younger of these 
+who had come with him to Egypt, and whom he 
+now killed. 
+
+32. There are two tales of her death, as of the 
+death of Smerdis. The Greeks say that Cambyses 
+had set a puppy to fight a lion's cub, with this woman 
+too looking on ; and the puppy being worsted, another 
+puppy, its brother, broke its leash and came to help, 
+whereby the two dogs together got the better of the 
+cub. Cambyses, they say, was pleased with the sight, 
+but the woman wept as she sat by. Cambyses per- 
+ceived it and asking why she wept, she said she had 
+wept when she saw the puppy help its brother, for 
+thinking of Smerdis and how there was none to 
+avenge him. For saying this, according to the Greek 
+story, Cambyses put her to death. But the Egyptian 
+tale is that as the two sat at table the woman took a 
+lettuce and plucked off the leaves, then asked her 
+husband whether he liked the look of it, with or 
+without leaves; *« With the leaves," said he; where- 
+upon she answered: “ Yet you have stripped Cyrus’ 
+house as bare as this lettuce." Angered at this, 
+they say, he leaped upon her, she being great with 
+child ; and she died of the hurt he gave her. 
+
+33. Such were Cambyses’ mad acts to his own 
+household, whether they were done because of Apis 
+or grew from some of the many troubles that are 
+wont to beset men; for indeed he is said to have been 
+afflicted from his birth with that grievous disease 
+which some call *sacred."! It is no unlikely thing 
+
+
+1 Epilepsy. 
+43 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+TOL ἀεικὲς οὐδὲν ἦν τοῦ σώματος νοῦσον μεγάλην 
+νοσέοντος μηδὲ τὰς φρένας ὑγιαίνειν. 
+
+34. Τάδε ὃ ἐς τοὺς ἄλλους Πέρσας ἐξεμάνη. 
+λέγεται γὰρ εἰπεῖν αὐτὸν πρὸς Πρηξάσπεα, τὸν 
+ἐτίμα TE μάλιστα καί οἱ τὰς ἀγγελίας ἐφόρεε 
+οὗτος, τούτου τε ὁ παῖς οἰνοχόος ἦν τῷ Καμβύσῃ, 
+τιμὴ δὲ καὶ αὕτη οὐ σμικρή' εἰπεῖν δὲ λέγεται 
+τάδε. “ Πρήξασπες, κοῖόν µε τινὰ νομίξουσι 
+Πέρσαι εἶναι ἄνδρα τίνας τε λόγους περὶ ἐμέο 
+ποιεῦνται; ” cov δὲ εἰπεῖν “ο δέσποτα, τὰ μὲν 
+ἄλλα πάντα μεγάλως ἐπαινέαι, τῇ δὲ φιλοινίῃ σε 
+φασὶ πλεύνως προσκέεσθαι." τὸν μὲν δὴ λέγειν 
+ταῦτα περὶ Περσέων, τὸν δὲ θυμωθέντα τοιάδε 
+ἀμείβεσθαι. * Nov ἄρα με φασὶ Πέρσαι. οἴνῳ 
+προσκείμενον παραφρονέειν καὶ οὐκ εἶναι γοήμονα: 
+οὐδ᾽ ἄρα σφέων οἱ πρότεροι λόγοι ἦσαν ἀληθέες." 
+πρότερον γὰρ δὴ ἄρα, Περσέων οἱ συνέδρων ἐ ἐόντων 
+καὶ Κροίσου, εἴρετο Καμβύσης κοῖός τις δοκέοι 
+ἀνὴρ εἶναι πρὸς τὸν πατέρα τελέσαι Κῦρον, οἳ δὲ 
+ἀμείβοντο ὡς ein ἀμείνων τοῦ πατρός" τά τε γὰρ 
+ἐκείνου πάντα ἔχειν αὐτὸν καὶ προσεκτῆσθαι 
+Αἴγυπτόν τε καὶ τὴν θάλασσαν. Πέρσαι μὲν 
+ταῦτα ἔλεγον, Κροῖσος δὲ παρεών τε καὶ οὐκ 
+ἀρεσκόμενος τῇ κρίσι εἶπε πρὸς τὸν Καμβύσεα 
+
+τάδε. “ . Εμοὶ μέν νυν, ὦ παῖ Κύρου, οὐ δοκέεις 
+
+ὅμοιος εἶναι τῷ πατρί" οὐ γάρ κὠ τοι ἐστὶ υἱὸς 
+οἷον σὲ ἐκεῖνος κατελίπετο." ἥσθη. τε ταῦτα 
+ἀκούσας ὁ Καμβύσης καὶ ἐπαίνεε τὴν Κροίσου 
+κρίσιν. 
+
+35. Τούτων δὴ ὧν ἐπιμνησθέντα ὀργῇ. λέγειν 
+πρὸς τὸν Ἡρηξάσπεα et Σύ νυν μάθε εἰ λέγουσι 
+Πέρσαι ἀληθέα εἴτε αὐτοὶ λέγοντες ταῦτα παρα- 
+
+
+44 
+
+
+BOOK III. 11-15 
+
+
+then that when his body was grievously afflicted his 
+mind too should be diseased. 
+
+34. I will now tell of his mad dealings with the 
+rest of Persia. He said, as they report, to Prexaspes 
+—whom he held in especial honour, who brought 
+him all his messages, whose son held the very honour- 
+able office of Cambyses' cup-bearer—thus, I say, he 
+spoke to Prexaspes: “What manner of man, 
+Prexaspes, do the Persians think me to be, and how 
+speak they of me?” “Sire,” said Prexaspes, “ for all 
+else they greatly praise you; but they say that you 
+love wine too well." So he reported of the Persians ; 
+the king angrily replied: “ΙΕ the Persians now say 
+that 'tis my fondness for wine that drives me to frenzy 
+and madness, then it would seem that their former 
+saying also was alie." For it is said that ere this, 
+certain Persians and Croesus sitting with him, Cam- 
+byses asked what manner of man they thought him 
+to be in comparison with Cyrus his father; and they 
+answered, “that Camibyses was the better man; for 
+he had all of Cyrus’ possessions and had won besides 
+Egypt and the sea." So said the Persians; but 
+Croesus, who was present, and was ill-satisfied with 
+their judgment, thus spoke to Cambyses: “To my 
+thinking, son of Cyrus, you are not like your father ; 
+for you have as yet no son such as he left after him 
+in you.” This pleased Cambyses, and he praised 
+Croesus’ judgment. | 
+
+35. Remembering this, then, he said to Prexaspes 
+in his anger : * Judge you then if the Persians speak 
+truth, or rather are themselves out of their minds 
+
+
+45 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+φρονέουσι; εἰ μὲν γὰρ τοῦ παιδὸς τοῦ σοῦ τοῦδε 
+ἑστεῶτος ἐν τοῖσι προθύροισι βαλὼν τύχοιμι μέσης 
+τῆς καρδίης, Πέρσαι φανέονται λέγοντες οὐδέν: ἣν 
+δὲ ἁμάρτω, φάναι. Πέρσας τε λέγειν ἀληθέα καί 
+µε μὴ σωφρονέειν." ταῦτα δὲ εἰπόντα. καὶ διατεί- 
+ναντα τὸ τόξον βαλεῖν τὸν παῖδα, πεσόντος δὲ τοῦ 
+παιδὸς ἀνασχίζειν αὐτὸν κελεύειν καὶ σκέψασθαι 
+τὸ βλῆμα' ὡς δὲ ἐν τῇ καρδίῃ εὑρεθῆναι. ἐνεόντα 
+τὸν ὀϊστόν, εἰπεῖν πρὸς τὸν πατέρα τοῦ παιδὸς 
+γελάσαντα καὶ περιχαρέα γενόμενον “Πρήξασπες, 
+ὡς μὲν ἐγώ τε οὐ μαίνομαι Πέρσαι τε παραφρο- 
+νέουσι, δῆλά τοι γέγονε. νῦν δέ μοι εἰπέ, τίνα 
+εἶδες ἤδη πάντων ἀνθρώπων οὕτω ἐπίσκοπα τοξεύ- 
+οντα;᾽ Πρηξάσπεα δὲ ὁρῶντα ἄνδρα οὐ φρενήρεα 
+καὶ περὶ ἑωυτῷ δειμαίνοντα εἰπεῖν “Δέσποτα, οὐδ᾽ 
+ἂν αὐτὸν ἔγωγε δοκέω τὸν θεὸν οὕτω ἂν καλῶς 
+βαλεῖν.᾽ τότε μὲν ταῦτα ἐξεργάσατο, ἑτέρωθι 
+δὲ Περσέων. ὁμοίους τοῖσι πρώτοισι δυώδεκα ἐπ᾿ 
+οὐδεμιῇ αἰτίῃ ἀξιοχρέῳ ἑλὼν ζώοντας ἐπὶ κεφαλὴν 
+κατώρυξε. 
+
+36. Ταῦτα δέ μιν ποιεῦντα ἐδικαίωσε Κροῖσος 
+ὁ Λυδὸς νουθετῆσαι τοῖσιδε τοῖσι ἔπεσι, «Ὦ 
+βασιλεῦ, μὴ πάντα ἡλικίῃ καὶ θυμῷ ἐπίτραπε, 
+ἀλλ) ἴσχε καὶ καταλάμβανε σεωυτόν: ἀγαθόν τι 
+πρόνοον εἶναι, σοφὸν δὲ ἡ προμηθίη. σὺ δὲ κτείνεις 
+μὲν ἄνδρας σεωυτοῦ πολιήτας ἐπ᾽ οὐδεμιῇ αἰτίη 
+ἀξιοχρέφ ἑλών, κτείνεις δὲ παῖδας. ἣν δὲ πολλὰ 
+τοιαῦτα ποιέῃς, ὅρα ὅκως μή σευ ἀποστήσονται 
+Πέρσαι. ἐμοὶ δὲ πατὴρ σὸς Κῦρος ἐνετέλλετο 
+πολλὰ κελεύων σε νουθετέειν καὶ ὑποτίθεσθαι ὅ ὅ 
+τι ἂν εὑρίσκω ἀγαθόν." ὃ μὲν δὴ εὐνοίην φαίνων 
+συνεβούλευέ οἱ ταῦτα" ὃ ὃ ἀμείβετο τοῖσιδε. “Σὺ 
+
+
+46 
+
+
+BOOK III. 35-36 
+
+
+when they so speak of me. Yonder stands your son 
+in the porch; now if I shoot and pierce his heart, 
+that will prove the Persians to be wrong; if I miss, 
+then say that they are right and I out of my senses." 
+So saying he drew his bow and hit the boy, and bade 
+open the fallen body and examine the wound : and 
+the arrow being found in the heart, Cambyses 
+laughed in great glee and said to the boy's father: 
+* [t is plain, Prexaspes, that I am in my right mind 
+and the Persians mad; now tell me: what man in the 
+world saw you ever that shot so true to the mark?" 
+Prexaspes, it is said, replied (for he saw that Cam- 
+byses was mad, and he feared for his own life), 
+* Master, I think that not even the god himself 
+could shoot so true." Thus did Cambyses then; 
+at another time he took twelve Persians, equal to 
+the noblest in the land, proved them guilty of some 
+petty offence, and buried them head downwards 
+and alive. 
+
+36. Forthese acts Croesus the Lydian thought fit to 
+take him to task, and thus addressed him: “Sire, 
+do not ever let youth and passion have their way; 
+put some curb and check on yourself; prudence is a 
+good thing, forethought is wisdom. But what of you? 
+you put to death men of your own country proved 
+guilty of but a petty offence ; ay, and you kill boys. 
+If you do often so, look to it lest the Persians revolt 
+from you. As for me, your father Cyrus earnestly 
+bade me counsel you and give you such advice as I 
+think to be good." Croesus gave him this counsel 
+out of goodwill; but Cambyses answered : “It is very 
+
+
+47 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+καὶ ἐμοὶ τολμᾷς συμβουλεύειν, ὃς χρηστῶς μὲν 
+τὴν σεωυτοῦ πατρίδα ἐπετρόπευσας, εὖ δὲ τῷ 
+πατρὶ τῷ ἐμῷ συνεβούλευσας, κελεύων αὐτὸν 
+᾿Αράξεα ποταμὸν διαβάντα ἰέναι ἐπὶ Μασσαγέτας, 
+βουλομένων ἐκείνων διαβαίνειν. ἐς τὴν ἡμετέρην, 
+καὶ ἀπὸ ) μὲν σεωυτὸν. ὤλεσας τῆς σεωυτοῦ πατρί- 
+δος κακῶς προστάς, ἀπὸ δὲ ὤλεσας Κῦρον πειθό- 
+μενον σοί, ἀλλ᾽ οὔτι χαίρων, ἐπεί τοι καὶ πάλαι 
+ἐς σὲ ᾿προφάσιός τευ ἐδεόμην ἐπιλαβέσθαι.᾽ ταῦτα 
+δὲ εἴπας ἐλάμβανε τὸ τόξον ὡς κατατοξεύσων 
+αὐτόν, Κροῖσος δὲ ἀναδραμὼν͵ ἔθεε ἔξω. ὃ δὲ 
+ἐπείτε τοξεῦσαι οὐκ εἶχε, ἐνετείλατο τοῖσι θερά- 
+πουσι λαβόντας μιν ἀποκτεῖναι. οἱ δὲ θεράποντες 
+ἐπιστάμενοι τὸν τρόπον αὐτοῦ κατακρύπτουσι τὸν 
+Κροῖσον ἐπὶ τῷδε τῷ λόγῳ ὥστε, εἰ μὲν μεταμε- 
+λήσῃ τῷ Καμβύσῃ. καὶ ἐπιξητέῃ τὸν Κροῖσον, οἳ 
+δὲ ἐκφήναντες αὐτὸν δῶρα λάμψονται ἑωάγρια 
+Κροίσου, ἢ ἦν δὲ μὴ μεταμέληται μηδὲ ποθέῃ μιν, 
+τότε καταχρᾶσθαι. ἐπόθησέ τε δὴ ὁ ὁ Καμβύσης 
+τὸν Κροῖσον οὐ πολλῷ μετέπειτα χρόνῳ ὕστερον, 
+καὶ οἱ θεράποντες μαθόντες τοῦτο ἐπηγγέλλοντο 
+αὐτῷ ὡς περιείη. Καμβύσης, δὲ Κροίσῳ μὲν 
+συνήδεσθαι ἔφη περιεόντι, ἐκείνους μέντοι τοὺς 
+περιποιήσαντας οὐ καταπροΐξεσθαι ἀλλ᾽ ἀποκτε- 
+νέειν' καὶ ἐποίησε ταῦτα. 
+
+37. “O μὲν δὴ τοιαῦτα πολλὰ ἐς Πέρσας τε καὶ 
+τοὺς συμμάχους ἐξεμαίνετο, μένων ἐν Μέμφι καὶ 
+ήκας τε παλαιὰς ἀνοίγων καὶ σκεπτόμενος τοὺς 
+νεκρούς. ἃς δὲ δὴ καὶ ἐς τοῦ Ἡφαίστου τὸ ἱρὸν 
+mr ε καὶ πολλὰ τῷ ἀγάλματι κατεγέλασε. ἔστι 
+γὰρ τοῦ Ἡφαίστου τῶγαλμα τοῖσι Φοινικηΐοισι 
+Παταΐκοισι ἐμφερέστατον, τοὺς οἱ Φοίνικες ἐν 
+
+
+48 
+
+
+BOOK III. 36-37 
+
+
+well that you should dare to counsel me too; you, who 
+governed your own country right usefully, and gave 
+fine advice to my father—bidding him, when the 
+Massagetae were willing to cross over into our lands, 
+to pass the Araxes and attack them; thus you 
+wrought your own ruin by misgoverning your country, 
+and Cyrus's by overpersuading him. Nay, but you 
+shall rue it; long have I waited for a pretext to deal 
+with you.” With that Cambyses took his bow to 
+shoot him dead ; but Croesus leapt up and ran out; 
+and Cambyses, being unable to shoot him, charged 
+his attendants to take and kill him. They, knowing 
+Cambyses’ mood, hid Croesus; being minded, if Cam- 
+byses should repent and seek for Croesus, to reveal 
+him and receive gifts for saving his life; but if he 
+should not repent nor wish Croesus back, then to 
+kill the Lydian. Not long after this Cambyses did 
+wish Croesus back, perceiving which the attendants 
+told him that Croesus was alive. Cambyses said that 
+he too was glad of it; but that they, who had saved 
+Croesus alive, should not go scot free, but be killed ; 
+and this was done. 
+
+37. Many such mad deeds did Cambyses to the 
+Persians and his allies; he abode at Memphis, and 
+there opened ancient coffins and examined the dead 
+bodies. Thus too he entered the temple of He- 
+phaestus and made much mockery of the image there. 
+This image of Hephaestus is most like to the Phoe- 
+nician Pataici! which the Phoenicians carry on the 
+
+
+1 The Phoenician Mardixos (as the Greeks called him) was 
+the Ptah or Patah of Egypt whom the Greeks identified 
+with Hephaestus; always in the form of a dwarf. 
+
+49 
+
+VOL. 11. E 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τῇσι πρώρῃσι τῶν τριηρέων περιάγουσι. ὃς δὲ 
+τούτους μὴ ὄπωπε, ὧδε σημανέω" πυγμαίου ἀνδρὸς 
+μίμησις ἐστί. ἐσῆλθε δὲ καὶ ἐς τῶν Καβείρων τὸ 
+ἱρόν, ἐς τὸ οὐ θεμιτόν ἐ ἐστι ἐσιέναι ἄλλον γε ἢ τὸν 
+ἱρέα' ταῦτα δὲ τὰ ἀγάλματα καὶ ἐνέπρησε πολλὰ 
+κατασκώψας. ἔστι δὲ καὶ ταῦτα ὅμοια τοῖσι. τοῦ 
+Ἡφαίστου: τούτου δὲ σφέας παῖδας λέγουσι εἶναι. 
+|. 38. Πανταχῇ ὧν μοι δῆλα ἐστὶ ὅτι ἐμάνη 
+| μεγάλως ὁ Καμβύσης" οὐ γὰρ ἂν potat . τε καὶ 
+νομαίοισι ἐπεχείρησε καταγελᾶν. εἰ γάρ τις προ- 
+θείη πᾶσι ἀνθρώποισι ἐκλέξασθαι κελεύων νόμους 
+τοὺς καλλίστους ἐκ τῶν πάντων νόμων, διασκε- 
+ψάµενοι ἂν ἑλοίατο ἕκαστοι τοὺς ἑωυτῶν: οὕτω 
+νομίξουσι πολλόν τι καλλίστους τοὺς ἑωυτῶν 
+
+
+νόμους ἕκαστοι εἶναι. οὔκων οἰκός ἐστι ἄλλον γε) 
+
+
+À / y / \ ^ / 
+ἢ μαινόμενον ἄνδρα γέλωτα τὰ τοιαῦτα τίθεσθαι. 
+
+
+e \ e / M \ / / 
+ὡς δὲ οὕτω Vevopika gt τὰ περὶ τοὺς νόμους πάντες. 
+
+
+ἄνθρωποι, πολλοῖσί τε καὶ ἄλλοισι τεκμηρίοισι 
+πάρεστι σταθμώσασθαι, ἐν δὲ δὴ καὶ τῷδε. Δαρεῖος 
+ἐπὶ τῆς ἑωυτοῦ ἀρχῆς καλέσας Ἑλλήνων τοὺς 
+παρεόντας εἴρετο ἐπὶ κόσῳ ἂν χρήματι βουλοίατο 
+τοὺς πατέρας ἀποθνήσκοντας κατασιτέεσθαι' oÙ 
+δὲ ἐπ᾽ οὐδενὶ ἔφασαν ἔρδειν ἃ ἂν τοῦτο. Δαρεῖος 
+δὲ μετὰ ταῦτα καλέσας Ἰνδῶν τοὺς καλεομένους 
+Καλλατίας, οἳ τοὺς γονέας κατεσθίουσι, εἴρετο, 
+παρεόντων τῶν Ἑλλήνων καὶ δι ἑρμηνέος μανθα- 
+νόντων τὰ λεγόμενα, ἐπὶ τίνι χρήματι δεξαίατ᾽ ἂν 
+τελευτῶντας τοὺς πατέρας κατακαίειν πυρί" οἳ δὲ 
+ἀμβώσαντες μέγα εὐφημέειν μιν ἐκέλευον. οὕτω 
+μέν νυν ταῦτα νενόμισται, καὶ ὀρθῶς µοι δοκέει 
+Πίνδαρος ποιῆσαι νόμον πάντων βασιλέα φήσας 
+εἶναι. 
+
+
+5Ο 
+
+
+BOOK III. 37-38 
+
+
+prows of their triremes. I will describe it for him 
+who has not seen these figures: it is in the likeness 
+of a dwarf. Also he entered the temple of the 
+Cabeiri, into which none may enter save the priest ; 
+the images here he even burnt, with bitter mockery. 
+These also are like the images of Hephaestus, and are 
+said to be his sons. 
+
+38. I hold it then in every way proved that Cam- 
+byses was very mad; else he would never have set 
+himself to deride religion and custom. For if it were 
+proposed to all nations to choose which seemed best 
+of all customs, each, after examination made, would 
+place its own first; so well is each persuaded that its 
+own are by far the best. It is not therefore to be. 
+supposed that any, save a madman, would turn such 
+things to ridicule. I will give this one proof among 
+many from which it may be inferred that all men hold 
+this belief about their customs :—When Darius was 
+king,he summoned theGreeks who were with him and 
+asked them what price would persuade them to eat 
+their fathers' dead bodies. They answered that there 
+was no price for which they would do it. Then he 
+summoned those Indians who are called Callatiae,! 
+who eat their parents, and asked them (the Greeks 
+being present and understanding by interpretation 
+what was said) what would make them willing to 
+burn their fathers at death. The Indians cried aloud, 
+that he should not speak of so horrid an aet. So 
+firmly rooted are these beliefs; and it is, I think, 
+rightly said in Pindar’s poem that use and wont 
+is lord of all.? 
+
+
+1 Apparently from Sanskrit Kdla= black. 
+2 vóuos ὁ πάντων βασιλεὺς θνατῶν τε καὶ ἀθανάτων ; quoted in 
+Plato's Gorgias from an otherwise unknown poem of Pindar. 
+
+
+σι 
+E 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+39. Καμβύσεω δὲ ἐπ Αἴγυπτον στρατευομένου 
+ἐποιήσαντο καὶ Λακεδαιμόνιοι στρατηΐην ἐπὶ 
+Σάμον τε καὶ Πολυκράτεα τὸν Αἰάκεος" ὃς ἔσχε. 
+Σάμον é ἐπαναστάς, καὶ τὰ μὲν πρῶτα τριχῆ δασά-᾽ 
+μενος τὴν πόλιν . | τοῖσι ἀδελφεοῖσι, Πανταγνώτῳ 
+καὶ Συλοσῶντι ἔνειμε, μετὰ δὲ τὸν μὲν αὐτῶν 
+ἀποκτείνας τὸν δὲ νεώτερον Συλοσῶντα ἐξελάσας 
+ἔσχε πᾶσαν Σάμον, σχὼν δὲ ξεινίην ᾿Αμάσι τῷ 
+Αἰγύπτου βασιλέι συνεθήκατο, πέμπων τε δῶρα 
+καὶ δεκόμενος ἄλλα παρ᾽ ἐκείνου. ἐν χρόνῳ δὲ 
+ὀλίγῳ αὐτίκα τοῦ Πολυκράτεος τὰ πρήγματα 
+ηὔξετο καὶ ἦν βεβωμένα ἀνά τε τὴν ᾿Ιωνίην καὶ 
+τὴν ἄλλην Ἑλλάδα: ὅκου γὰρ ἰθύσειε στρατεύ- 
+εσθαι, πάντα οἱ ἐχώρεε εὐτυχέως. ἔκτητο δὲ 
+πεντηκοντέρους τε ἑκατὸν καὶ χιλίους τοξότας, 
+ἔφερε δὲ καὶ ἦγε πάντας διακρίνων οὐδένα: τῷ 
+γὰρ φίλῳ ἔφη χαριεῖσθαι μᾶλλον ἀποδιδοὺς τὰ 
+ἔλαβε ἡ ῆ ἀρχὴν μηδὲ λαβών. συχνὰς μὲν δὴ τῶν 
+νήσων ἀραιρήκεε, πολλὰ δὲ καὶ τῆς ἠπείρου ἄστεα' 
+ἐν δὲ δὴ καὶ Λεσβίους πανστρατιῇ βοηθέοντας 
+Μιλησίοισι ναυμαχίῃ κρατήσας εἷλε, οἳ τὴν τά- 
+φρον περὶ τὸ τεῖχος τὸ ἐν Σάμῳ πᾶσαν δεδεμένοι 
+ὤρυξαν. = 
+
+40. Kat κως τὸν μασιν εὐτυχέων. μεγάλως 
+ὁ Πολυκράτης οὐκ ἐλάνθανε, ἀλλά οἱ τοῦτ᾽ ἦν 
+ἐπιμελές. πολλῷ δὲ ἔτι πλεῦνός οἱ εὐτυχίης γινο- 
+μένης γράψας ἐς βυβλίον τάδε ἐπέστειλε é ἐς Σάμον. 
+“A pastis Πολυκράτεϊ ὧδε λέγει. ἡδὺ μὲν πυνθά- 
+νεσθαι ἄνδρα φίλον καὶ ' ξεῖνον εὖ πρήσσοντα" ἐμοὶ 
+δὲ αἱ σαὶ μεγάλαι εὐτυχίαι οὐκ ἀρέσκουσι, τὸ 
+θεῖον ἐπισταμένῳ ὡς ἔστι φθονερόν' καί κως βού- 
+
+
+1 σύν or ἅμα is probably omitted. 
+
+
+52 
+
+
+BOOK III. 39-40 
+
+
+39. While Cambyses was attacking Egypt, the 
+Lacedaemonians too made war upon Samos and 
+Aeaces’ son Polycrates. He had revolted and won 
+Samos,! and first, dividing the city into three parts, 
+gave a share in the government to his brothers Pan- 
+tagnotus and Syloson; but presently he put one of 
+them to death, banished the younger, Syloson, and so 
+made himself lord of all Samos; which done, he made 
+a treaty with Amasis king of Egypt, sending and re- 
+ceiving from him gifts. Very soon after this Polycrates 
+grew to such power that he was famous in Jonia and 
+all other Greek lands; for all his warlike enterprises 
+prospered. An hundred fifty-oared ships he had, and 
+a thousand archers, and he harried all mer alike, 
+making no difference; for, he said, he would get 
+more thanks if he gave a friend back what he had 
+taken than if he neVer took it at all. He had taken 
+many of the islands,and many of the mainland cities. 
+Among others, he' conquered the Lesbians; they 
+had brought all their force to aid the Milesians, and 
+Polycrates worsted them in a sea-fight; it was they 
+who, being his captives, dug all the fosse round the 
+citadel of Samos. 
+
+40. Now Amasis was in some wise aware and took 
+good heed of Polycrates’ great good fortune; and 
+this continuing to increase greatly, he wrote this 
+letter and sent it to Samos: “ From Amasis to Poly- 
+crates, these. It is pleasant to learn of the well- 
+being of a friend and guest. But I like not these 
+great successes of yours; for I know how jealous are 
+
+
+1 Probably in 532 B.c. 
+53 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ο 
+λομαι καὶ αὐτὸς καὶ τῶν ἂν κήδωμαι τὸ μέν τι 
+εὐτυχέειν τῶν πρηγμάτων τὸ δὲ προσπταίειν, καὶ 
+οὕτω διαφέρειν τὸν αἰῶνα ἐναλλὰξ πρήσσων ἢ 
+εὐτυχέειν τὰ πάντα. οὐδένα γάρ κω λόγῳ οἶδα 
+ἀκούσας ὅστις ἐς τέλος οὐ κακῶς ἐτελεύτησε 
+πρόρριξος, εὐτυχέων τὰ πάντα. σύ νυν ἐμοὶ πει- 
+θόμενος ποίησον πρὸς τὰς εὐτυχίας τοιάδε' φρον- 
+Tisas τὸ ἂν εὕρῃς ἐόν τοι πλείστου ἄξιον καὶ ἐπ᾿ 
+ᾧ σὺ ἀπολομένῳ μάλιστα τὴν ψυχὴν ἀλγήσεις, 
+τοῦτο ἀπόβαλε οὕτω ὅκως μηκέτι ἥξει ἐς ἀνθρώ- 
+πους: ἤν τε μὴ ἐναλλὰξ ἤδη τὠπὸ τούτου αἱ 
+εὐτυχίαι τοι τῇσι πάθῃσι προσπύπτωσι, τρόπῳ 
+τῷ ἐξ ἐμεῦ ὑποκειμένῳ ἀκέο.᾽ 
+
+41. Taira ἐπιλεξάμενος ὁ Πολυκράτης καὶ νόῳ 
+
+
+[3 
+φ 
+
+
+λαβὼν ὥς οἱ εὖ ὑπετίθετο “Apacs, ἐδίξητο ἐπ᾿ à 
+ἂν μάλιστα τὴν ψυχὴν ἀσηθείη ἀπολομένῳ τῶν 
+κειμηλίων, διζήμενος δὲ εὕρισκε τόδε. ἣν οἱ σφρη- 
+yis τὴν ἐφόρεε χρυσόδετος, σμαράψδου μὲν λίθου 
+ἐοῦσα, ἔργον δὲ ἦν Θεοδώρου τοῦ Τηλεκλέος Σαμίου. 
+ἐπεὶ ὧν ταύτην οἱ ἐδόκεε ἀποβαλεῖν, ἐποίεε τοιάδε" 
+πεντηκόντερον πληρώσας ἀνδρῶν ἐσέβη ἐς αὐτήν, 
+μετὰ δὲ ἀναγαγεῖν ἐκέλευε ἐς τὸ πέλαγος" ὡς δὲ 
+ἀπὸ τῆς νήσου ἑκὰς ἐγένετο, περιελόμενος τὴν 
+σφρηγῖδα πάντων ὁρώντων τῶν συμπλόων ῥίπτει 
+ἐς τὸ πέλαγος. τοῦτο δὲ ποιήσας ἀπέπλεε, ATL- 
+κόμενος δὲ ἐς τὰ οἰκία συμφορῇ ἐχρᾶτο. 
+
+49. Πέμπτῃ δὲ ἢ ἕκτῃ ἡμέρῃ ἀπὸ τούτων τάδε 
+οἱ συνήνεικε γενέσθαι. ἀνὴρ ἁλιεὺς λαβὼν ἰχθὺν 
+μέγαν τε καὶ καλὸν ἠξίου μιν Πολυκράτεῖ δῶρον 
+δοθῆναι: φέρων δὴ ἐπὶ τὰς θύρας Πολυκράτεϊ 
+ἔφη ἐθέλειν ἐλθεῖν ἐς ὄψιν, χωρήσαντος δέ οἱ 
+τούτου ἔλεγε διδοὺς τὸν ἰχθύν “N. βασιλεῦ, ἐγὼ 
+
+
+54 
+
+
+BOOK III. 40-42 
+
+
+the gods; and I do in some sort desire for myself 
+and my friends a mingling of prosperity and mishap, 
+and a life of weal and woe thus chequered, rather 
+than unbroken good fortune. For from all I have 
+heard I know of no man whom continual good fortune 
+did not bring in the end to evil, and utter destruc- 
+tion. Therefore if you will be ruled by me do this 
+to mend your successes: consider what you deem 
+most precious and what you will most grieve to lose, 
+and cast it away so that it shall never again be seen 
+among men; then, if after this the successes that 
+come .to you be not chequered by mishaps, strive to 
+mend the matter as I have counselled you.” 
+
+41, Reading this, and perceiving that Amasis’ 
+advice was good, Polycrates considered which of his 
+treasures it would most afflict his soul to lose, and to 
+this conclusion he came: he wore a seal set in gold, 
+an emerald, wrought by Theodorus son of Telecles 
+of Samos; being resolved to cast this away, he 
+embarked in a fifty-oared ship with its crew, and 
+bade them put out to sea; and when he was far from 
+the island, he took off the seal-ring in sight of all 
+that were in the ship and cast it into the sea. This 
+done, he sailed back and went to his house, where he 
+grieved for the loss. 
+
+42. But on the fifth or sixth day from this it so 
+befell that a fisherman, who had taken a fine and 
+great fish, and desired to make it a gift to Polycrates, 
+brought it to the door and said that he wished to be 
+seen by Polycrates. This being granted to him, he gave 
+the fish, saying: “QO King, I am a man that lives by 
+
+
+55 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τόνδε ἑλὼν οὐκ ἐδικαίωσα φέρειν ἐς ἀγορήν, καύπερ 
+ἐὼν ἀποχειροβίοτος, ἀλλά μοι ἐδόκεε σεῦ τε εἶναι 
+ἄξιος καὶ τῆς σῆς ἀρχῆς’ σοὶ δή μιν φέρων δίδωμι." 
+ὃ δὲ ἡσθεὶς τοῖσι ἔπεσι ἀμείβεται τοῖσιδε. ** Kdpra 
+τε εὖ ἐποίησας καὶ χάρις διπλῆ τῶν τε λόγων καὶ 
+τοῦ δώρου, καί σε ἐπὶ δεῖπνον καλέομεν. ὃ μὲν 
+δὴ ἁλιεὺς μέγα ποιεύμενος ταῦτα ἤιε ἐς τὰ οἰκία, 
+τὸν δὲ ἰχθὺν τάμνοντες οἱ θεράποντες εὑρίσκουσι 
+ἐν τῇ νηδύι αὐτοῦ ἐνεοῦσαν τὴν Πολυκράτεος 
+σφρηγῖδα. ὡς δὲ εἶδόν τε καὶ ἔλαβον τάχιστα, 
+ἔφερον κεχαρηκότες παρὰ τὸμ Πολυκράτεα, διδόν- 
+τες δέ οἱ τὴν σφρηγῖδα ἔλεγον ὅτεῳ τρόπῳ εὑρέθη. 
+τὸν δὲ ὡς ἐσῆλθε θεῖον εἶναι τὸ πρῆγμα, γράφει 
+ἐς βυβλίον πάντα τὰ ποιήσαντά μιν οἷα καταλε- 
+λάβηκε, γράψας δὲ ἐς Αἴγυπτον ἐπέθηκε. 
+
+43. ᾿Επιλεξάμενος δὲ ὁ Αµασις τὸ βυβλίον τὸ 
+παρὰ τοῦ Πολυκράτεος ἧκον, ἔμαθε ὅτι ἐκκομίσαι 
+τε ἀδύνατον εἴη ἀνθρώπῳ ἄνθρωπον ἐκ τοῦ µέλ- 
+λοντος γίνεσθαι πρήγματος, καὶ ὅτι οὐκ εὖ τελευ- 
+τήσειν μέλλοι Πολυκράτης εὐτυχέων τὰ πάντα, 
+ὃς καὶ τὰ ἀποβάλλει εὑρίσκει. πέμψας δέ οἱ 
+κήρυκα ἐς Σάμον διαλύεσθαι ἔφη τὴν ξεινίην. 
+τοῦδε δὲ εἵνεκεν ταῦτα ἐποίεε, ἵνα μὴ συντυχίης 
+δεινῆς τε καὶ μεγάλης Πολυκράτεα καταλαβούσης 
+αὐτὸς ἀλγήσειε τὴν ψυχὴν ὡς περὶ ξείνου ἀνδρός. 
+
+44. "Emi τοῦτον δὴ ὧν τὸν Πολυκράτεα εὗτυ- 
+χέοντα τὰ πάντα ἐστρατεύοντο Λακεδαιμόνιοι, 
+ἐπικαλεσαμένων τῶν μετὰ ταῦτα Κυδωνίην τὴν ἐν 
+Κρήτῃ κτισάντων Σαμίων. πέμψας δὲ κήρυκα 
+λάθρῃ Σαμίων Πολυκράτης παρὰ Καμβύσεα τὸν 
+Κύρου συλλέγοντα στρατὸν ἐπ᾽ Αἴγυπτον, ἐδεήθη 
+ὅκως ἂν καὶ παρ᾽ ἑωυτὸν πέμψας ἐς Σάμον δέοιτο 
+
+
+56 
+
+
+BOOK ΠΠ. 42-44 
+
+
+his calling; but when I caught this fish I thought 
+best not to take it to market; it seemed to me 
+worthy of you and your greatness ; wherefore I bring 
+and offer it to you."  Polycrates was pleased with 
+what the fisherman said; * You have done right 
+well," he answered, “and I give you double thanks, 
+for your words and for the gift; and I bid you to 
+dinner with me." Proud of this honour, the fisher- 
+man went home ; but the servants, cutting up the fish, 
+found Polycrates' seal-ring in its belly; which having 
+seen and taken they brought with joy to Polycrates, 
+gave him the ring, and told him how it was found. 
+Polycrates saw the hand of heaven in this matter; 
+he wrote a letter and sent it to Egypt, telling all 
+that he had done, and what had befallen him. 
+
+43. When Amasis had read Polycrates' letter, he 
+perceived that no man could save another from his 
+destiny, and that Polycrates, being so continually 
+fortunate that he even found what he cast away, 
+must come to an evil end. So he sent a herald to 
+Samos to renounce his friendship, with this intent, 
+that when some great and terrible mishap overtook 
+Polycrates, he himself might not have to grieve his 
+heart for a friend. 
+
+44. It was against this ever-victorious Polycrates 
+that the Lacedaemonians now made war, being in- 
+vited thereto by the Samians who afterwards founded 
+Cydonia in Crete. Polycrates had without the know- 
+ledge of his subjects sent a herald to Cambyses son 
+of Cyrus, then raising an army against Egypt, to ask 
+that Cambyses should send to Samos too and require 
+
+
+57 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+στρατοῦ. Καμβύσης δὲ ἀκούσας τούτων προ- 
+θύμως ἔπεμψε | ἐς Σάμον δεόµενος Πολυκράτεος 
+στρατὸν ναυτικὸν ἅμα πέμψαι € ἑωυτῷ ἐπ ᾿Αἴγυπτον. 
+
+ὃ δὲ ἐπιλέξας τῶν ἀστῶν τοὺς ὑπώπτευε μάλιστα 
+ἐς ἑπανάστασιν ἀπέπεμπε τεσσεράκοντα τριήρεσι, 
+ἐντειλάμενος Καμβύσῃ ὀπίσω τούτους μὴ ἀπο- 
+πέμπειν. 
+
+45. Οἳ μὲν δὴ λέγουσι τοὺς ἀποπεμφθέντας 
+Σαμίων i ὑπὸ Πολυκράτεος οὐκ ἀπικέσθαι ἐς Αἴγυ- 
+πτον, ἀλλ, ἐπείτε ἐγένοντο ἐν Καρπάθῳ πλέοντες, 
+δοῦναι σφίσι λόγον, καί σφι ἁδεῖν τὸ προσωτέρω 
+μηκέτι πλέειν" οἳ δὲ λέγουσι ἀπικομένους τε ἐς 
+Αἴγυπτον καὶ φυλασσομένους ἐνθεῦτεν αὐτοὺς 
+ἀποδρῆναι. καταπλέουσι δὲ ἐς τὴν Σάμον Πολυ- 
+κράτης νηυσὶ ἀντιάσας ἐς μάχην κατέστη" νική- 
+σαντες δὲ οἱ κατιόντες ἀπέβησαν ἐς τὴν νῆσον, 
+πεξομαχήσαντες δὲ ἐν αὐτῇ ἑσσώθησαν, καὶ οὕτω 
+δὴ ἔπλεον ἐς Λακεδαίμονα. εἰσὶ δὲ of λέγουσι 
+τοὺς ἀπ Αἰγύπτου νικῆσαι Πολυκράτεα, λέγοντες 
+ἐμοὶ δοκέειν οὐκ ὀρθῶς' οὐδὲν. γὰρ ἔδει σφέας 
+Λακεδαίμονίους ἐπικαλέεσθαι, εἴ περ αὐτοὶ ἦσαν 
+ἱκανοὶ Πολυκράτεα παραστήσασθαι. , πρὸς δὲ τού- 
+τοισι οὐδὲ λόγος αἱρέει, τῷ ἐπίκουροί τε μισθωτοὶ 
+καὶ τοξόται οὐκήιοι ἦσαν πλήθεϊ πολλοί, τοῦτον 
+ὑπὸ τῶν κατιόντων Σαμίων ἐόντων ὀλίγων. έσσω- 
+θῆναι. τῶν δ᾽ ὑπ᾽ ἑωυτῷ. ἐόντων πολιητέων τὰ 
+τέκνα καὶ τὰς γυναῖκας ὁ Πολυκράτης ἐς τοὺς 
+νεωσοίκους συνειλήσας εἶχε ἑτοίμους, ἦν ἄρα προ- 
+διδῶσι οὗτοι πρὸς | τοὺς κατιόντας, ὑποπρῆσαι 
+αὐτοῖσι τοῖσι νεωσοίκοισι. 
+
+46. Ἐπείτε δὲ οἱ ἐξελασθέντες Σαμίων ὑπὸ 
+Πολυκράτεος ἀπίκοντο ἐς τὴν Σπάρτην, κατα- 
+
+
+58 
+
+
+BOOK III. 44-46 
+
+
+men from him. On this message Cambyses very 
+readily sent to Samos, asking Polycrates to send a 
+fleet to aid him against Egypt.  Polycrates chose 
+out those townsmen whom he most suspected of 
+planning a rebellion against him, and sent them in 
+forty triremes, charging Cambyses not to send the 
+men back. 
+
+45. Some say that these Samians who were sent 
+by Polycrates never came to Egypt, but having got 
+as far over the sea as Carpathus there took counsel 
+together and resolved to sail no further; others say 
+that they did come to Egypt and escaped thence 
+from the guard that was set over them. But asthey 
+sailed back to Samos, Polycrates' ships met them and 
+joined battle; and the returning Samians gained the | 
+day and landed on the island, but were there worsted 
+in a land battle, and so sailed to Lacedaemon. 
+There is another story, that the Samians from Egypt 
+defeated Polycrates; but to my thinking this is 
+untrue; for if they were able to master Polycrates 
+by themselves, they had no need of inviting the 
+Lacedaemonians. Nay, moreover, it is not even rea- 
+sonable to suppose that he, who had a great army of 
+hired soldiers and bowmen of his own, was worsted 
+by a few men like the returning Samians. Polycrates 
+took the children and wives of the townsmen who 
+were subject to him and shut them up in the arsenal, 
+with intent to burn them and the arsenal too if their 
+men should desert to the returned Samians. 
+
+46. When the Samians who were expelled by 
+Polycrates came to Sparta, they came before the 
+
+
+59 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+/ } N \ y »- A 
+στάντες ἐπὶ τοὺς ἄρχοντας ἔλεγον πολλὰ ola 
+κάρτα δεόμενοι: ot δέ σφι τῇ πρώτη καταστάσι 
+ὑπεκρίναντο τὰ μὲν πρῶτα λεχθέντα ἐπιλελῆσθαι, 
+τὰ δὲ ὕστατα οὐ συνιέναι. μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα δεύτερα 
+
+/ y N , > 207 4 . 
+καταστάντες ἄλλο μὲν εἶπον οὐδέν, θύλακον δὲ 
+
+/ y A / 3 / / 
+φέροντες ἔφασαν τὸν θύλακον ἀλφίτων δέεσθαι. 
+D , ^ 
+ot δέ σφι ὑπεκρίναντο τῷ θυλάκῳ περιεργάσθαι’ 
+
+, ^ 
+βΒοηθέειν δ᾽ àv ἔδοξε αὐτοῖσι. 
+
+47. Καὶ ἔπειτα παρασκευασάμενοι ἐστρατεύ- 
+οντο Λακεδαιμόνιοι ἐπὶ Σάμον, ὡς μὲν Σάμιοι 
+λέγουσι, εὐεργεσίας ἐκτίνοντες, ὅτι σφι πρό- 
+τεροι αὐτοὶ νηυσὶ ἐβοήθησαν ἐπὶ Μεσσηνίους" 
+ὡς δὲ Λακεδαιμόνιοι λέγουσι, οὐκ οὕτω τιµω- 
+ρῆσαι δεομένοισι Σαμίοισι ἐστρατεύοντο ὡς 
+
+/ ^ ^ ^ ^ 
+τίσασθαι βουλόμενοι τοῦ κρητῆρος τῆς ἁρπαγῆς, 
+/ ^ "^ 
+τὸν ἦγον Κροίσῳ, καὶ τοῦ θώρηκος, τὸν αὐτοῖσι 
+”Αμασις ὁ Αἰγύπτου βασιλεὺς ἔπεμψε δῶρον. καὶ 
+γὰρ θώρηκα ἐληίσαντο τῷ προτέρῳ ἔτεϊ ἢ τὸν 
+- [4 
+κρητῆρα οἱ Σάμιοι, ἐόντα μὲν λίνεον καὶ ζῴων 
+ἐνυφασμένων συχνῶν, κεκοσμημένον δὲ χρυσῷ καὶ 
+^ 5 
+εἰρίοισι ἀπὸ ξύλου: τῶν δὲ εἵνεκα θωμάσαι ἄξιον, 
+ἁρπεδόνη ἑκάστη τοῦ θώρηκος ποιέει" ἐοῦσα γὰρ 
+λεπτὴ ἔχει ἁρπεδόνας ἐν ἑωυτῇ τριηκοσίας καὶ 
+ἑξήκοντα, πάσας φανεράς. τοιοῦτος ἕτερος ἐστὶ 
+
+δὶ b > / > / ^9 / v 
+καὶ τὸν ἐν Λίνδῳ ἀνέθηκε τῇ Αθηναίῃ "A pacis. 
+
+48. Συνεπελάβοντο δὲ τοῦ στρατεύματος τοῦ 
+3 , ” / N 4 
+ἐπὶ Σάμον ὥστε γενέσθαι καὶ Κορίνθιοι προθύμως" 
+
+΄ ^ 
+
+ὕβρισμα γὰρ καὶ ἐς τούτους εἶχε ἐκ τῶν Σαμίων 
+γενόμενον γενεῇ πρότερον τοῦ στρατεύμάτος τούτου, 
+
+/ ^ ^ ^ ^ 
+κατὰ δὲ τὸν αὐτὸν χρόνον τοῦ κρητῆρος τῇ ἁρπαγῇ 
+
+[4 ^ 
+
+γεγονός. «Κερκυραίων γὰρ παῖδας τριηκοσίους 
+, ^ ^ ’ / M [4 3 
+ἀνδρῶν τῶν πρώτων Περίανδρος ὁ Κυψέλου ἐς 
+6ο 
+
+
+BOOK III. 46-48 
+
+
+ruling men and made a long speech to, show the 
+greatness of their need. But the Spartans at their 
+first sitting answered that they had forgotten the 
+beginning of the speech and could not understand 
+its end. After this the Samians came a second time 
+with a sack, and said nothing but this: “The sack 
+wants meal" To this the Spartans replied: * Your 
+‘sack’ was needless"!; but they did resolve to help 
+them. 
+
+47. The Lacedaemonians then equipped and sent 
+an army to Samos; the Samians say that this was 
+the requital of services done, they having first sent a 
+fleet to help the Lacedaemonians against Messenia ; 
+but the Lacedaemonians say that they sent this army 
+less to aid the Samians in their need than to avenge 
+the robbery of the bowl which they had been carrying 
+to Croesus and the breastplate which Amasis King 
+of Egypt had sent them as a gift. This breastplate 
+had been stolen away by the Samians in the year 
+before they took the bowl; it was of linen, decked 
+with gold and cotton embroidery, and inwoven with 
+many figures; but what makes the wonder of it is 
+each several thread; it is delicate work, containing 
+three hundred and sixty threads, each plainly seen. 
+It is the exact counterpart of that one which Amasis 
+dedicated to Athene in Lindus. 
+
+48. The Corinthians also helped zealously to further 
+the expedition against Samos. They too had been 
+treated in a high-handed fashion by the Samians a 
+generation before this expedition, about the time of 
+the robbery of the bowl. Periander son of Cypselus 
+sent to Alyattes at Sardis three hundred boys, sons 
+
+
+1 It would have been enough (the Lacedaemonians meant) 
+to say ἀλφίτων δέεται, without using the word θύλακος. 
+
+
+61 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Σάρδις ἀπέπεμψε παρὰ ᾿Αλυάττεα ἐπ᾽ ἐκτομῇ' 
+προσσχόντων δὲ ἐς τὴν Σάμον τῶν ἀγόντων τοὺς 
+παῖδας Κορινθίων, πυθόμενοι οἱ Σάμιοι τὸν λόγον, 
+ἐπ᾽ οἷσι a ἀγοίατο ἐς Σάρδις, πρῶτα μὲν τοὺς παῖδας 
+ἐδίδαξαν í ἱροῦ ἄψασθαι ᾿Αρτέμιδος" μετὰ δὲ οὐ 
+᾿περιορῶντες ἀπέλκειν τοὺς ἱκέτας ἐκ τοῦ ἱροῦ, 
+σιτίων δὲ τοὺς παῖδας é ἐργόντων Κορινθίων, ἐ ἐποιή- 
+σαντο οἱ Zápor ὁρτήν, τῇ καὶ νῦν ἔτι χρέωνται 
+κατὰ ταὐτά. νυκτὸς γὰρ, ἐπιγενομένης, ὅσον 
+χρόνον ἱκέτευον οἱ παῖδες, i ἵστασαν χοροὺς παρ- 
+θένων τε καὶ ἠιθέων, ἱστάντες δὲ τοὺς χοροὺς 
+τρωκτὰ σησάµου τε καὶ μέλιτος ἐποιήσαντο νόμον 
+φέρεσθαι, ἶνα ἁρπάξοντες οἱ τῶν Κερκυραίων 
+παῖδες ἔχοιεν τροφήν. ἐς τοῦτο δὲ τόδε ἐγίνετο, 
+ἐς ὃ οἱ Κορίνθιοι τῶν παίδων οἱ φύλακοι οἴχοντο 
+ἀπολιπόντες: τοὺς δὲ παῖδας ἀπήγαγον ἐς Κέρκυ- 
+ραν οἱ Σάμιοι. 
+
+49. Ei μέν νυν Περιάνδρου τελευτήσαντος τοῖσι 
+Κορινθίοισι φίλα ἡ Ἵν πρὸς τοὺς Κερκυραίους, οἳ δὲ 
+οὐκ ἂν συνελάβοντο τοῦ στρατεύματος τοῦ ἐπὶ 
+Σάμον ταύτης εἵνεκεν τῆς αἰτίης. νῦν δὲ αἰεὶ 
+ἐπείτε ἔκτισαν τὴν νῆσον εἰσὶ ἀλλήλοισι διάφοροι, 
+ἐόντες ἑωυτοῖσι. . «} τούτων ὧν εἵνεκεν ἀπεμνη- 
+σικάκεον τοῖσι Σαμίοισι οἱ Κορίνθιοι. 
+
+50. ᾿Απέπεμπε δὲ ἐς Σάρδις ἐπ᾽ ἐκτομῇ Περί- 
+ανδρος τῶν πρώτων Κερκυραίων ἐπιλέξας τοὺς 
+παῖδας τιμωρεύμενος" πρότεροι γὰρ οἱ Κερκυραῖοι 
+ἦρξαν ἐς αὐτὸν πρῆγμα ἀτάσθαλον ποιήσαντες. 
+ἐπείτε γὰρ, τὴν ἑωυτοῦ γυναῖκα Μέλισσαν Περί- 
+ανδρος ἀπέκτεινε, συμφορὴν τοιήνδε οἱ ἄλλην 
+
+
+1 I assume in translation that some word, συγγενέες or 
+ὁμαίμονες, has dropped out. 
+
+
+62 
+
+
+BOOK III. 48-50 
+
+
+of notable men in Corcyra, to be made eunuchs. The 
+Corinthians who brought the boys put in at Samos; 
+and when the Samians heard why the boys were 
+brought, first they bade them take sanctuary in the 
+temple of Artemis, then they would not suffer the 
+suppliants to be dragged from the temple; and when - 
+the Corinthians tried to starve the boys out, the 
+Samians made a festival which they still celebrate 
+in the same fashion; as long as the boys took 
+refuge, nightly dances of youths and maidens were 
+ordained to which it was made a custom to bring 
+cakes of sesame and honey, that the Corcyraean boys 
+might snatch these and so be fed. This continued 
+to be done till the Corinthian guards left their 
+charge and departed, and the Samians took the boys 
+back to Corcyra. 
+
+49. Now had the Corinthians after Periander's 
+death been well disposed towards the Corcyraeans, 
+they would not have aided in the expedition against 
+Samos only for the reason given. But as it was, ever 
+since the island was colonised they have been at feud 
+with each other, for all their kinship. For these 
+reasons the Corinthians bore a grudge against the 
+Samians. 
+
+50. It was in vengeance that. Periander chose the 
+sons of the notable Corcyraeans and sent them to 
+Sardis to be made eunuchs; for the Corcyraeans had 
+first begun the quarrel by committing aterrible crime 
+against him. For after killing his own wife Melissa, 
+Periander suffered yet another calamity besides what 
+
+63 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+συνέβη πρὸς τῇ γεγονυίῃ γενέσθαι. ἡσάν οἱ ἐκ 
+Μελίσσης δύο παῖδες, ἡλικίην ὃ μὲν ἑπτακαίδεκα 
+ὃ δὲ ὀκτωκαίδεκα ἔ ἔτεα γεγονώς. τούτους ὁ µητρο- 
+πάτωρ Προκλέης ἐὼν Επιδαύρου τύραννος µετα- 
+πεμψάμενος παρ᾽ ἑωυτὸν ἐφιλοφρονέετο, ὡς οἰκὸς 
+ἦν θυγατρὸς ἐόντας τῆς ἑωυτοῦ παῖδας. ἐπείτε 
+δὲ σφέας ἀπεπέμπετο, εἶπε προπέμπων αὐτούς 
+τ Άρα. ἴστε, à παῖδες, ὃ ὃς ὑμέων τὴν μητέρα ἀπέ- 
+κτεινε;” τοῦτο τὸ ἔπος ὁ μὲν πρεσβύτερος αὐτῶν 
+ἐν οὐδενὶ λόγῳ ἐποιήσατο' ὁ δὲ νεώτερος, τῷ 
+οὔνομα ἦν Λυκόφρων, ἤλγησε ἀκούσας οὕτω ὥστε 
+ἀπικόμενος ἐς τὴν Κόρινθον ἅτε φονέα, τῆς μητρὸς 
+τὸν πατέρα οὔτε προσεῖπε, διαλεγομένῳ τε οὔτε 
+προσδιελέγετο ἱ ἱστορέοντί, τε λόγον οὐδένα ἐδίδου. 
+τέλος δέ μιν περιθύμως € ἔχων ὁ Περίανδρος ἐξε- 
+ae ἐκ τῶν οἰκίων. 
+
+. Ἐξελάσας δὲ τοῦτον ἱστόρεε τὸν πρεσβυύ- 
+on τά σφι ὁ μητροπάτωρ διελέχθη. ὃ δέ οἱ 
+ἀπηγέετο ὡς σφέας φιλοφρόνως ἐδέξατο: ἐκείνου 
+δὲ τοῦ ἔπεος τό σφι ὁ Ἡροκλέης ἀποστέλλων εἶπε, 
+ἅτε οὐ νόῳ λαβών, οὐκ ἐμέμνητο. Περίανδρος δὲ 
+οὐδεμίαν μηχανὴν ἔφη εἶναι μὴ οὔ σφι ἐκεῖνον 
+ὑποθέσθαι TL, ἐλιπάρεέ τε ἱστορέων" ὃ δὲ ἆ ἀναμνη- 
+σθεὶς εἶπε καὶ τοῦτο. Περίανδρος δὲ νόῳ λαβὼν 
+[καὶ τοῦτο]! καὶ μαλακὸν ἐνδιδόναι βουλόμενος 
+οὐδέν, τῇ ὁ ἐξελασθεὶς ὑπ᾽ αὐτοῦ παῖς δίαιταν 
+ἐποιέετο, ἐς τούτους πέμπων ἄγγελον ἀπηγόρευε 
+μή μιν δέκεσθαι οἰκίοισι. ὃ δὲ ὅκως ἀπελαυνό- 
+μενος ἔλθοι ἐς ἄλλην οἰκίην, ἀπηλαύνετ᾽ ἂν καὶ 
+ἀπὸ ταύτης, ἀπειλέοντός τε τοῦ Περίανδρου τοῖσι 
+δεξαμένοισι καὶ ἐξέργειν κελεύοντος: ἀπελαυνό- 
+
+1 Stein brackets καὶ τοῦτο, as a repetition from the last line. 
+
+
+64 
+
+
+BOOK ΠΠ. 5o-5t 
+
+
+had already befallen him. He had two sons by 
+Melissa, one seventeen and one sixteen years old. 
+Their mother's father, Procles, the despot of Epi- 
+daurus,sent for the boys and kindly entreated them, as 
+was natural, seeing that they were his own daughter's. 
+sons. When they left him, he said as he bade them 
+farewell: “Know you, boys, him who slew your 
+mother?" The elder of them paid no heed. to 
+these words; but the younger, whose name was 
+Lycophron, was struck with such horror when he 
+heard them that when he came to Corinth he 
+would speak no word to his father, as being his 
+mother's murderer, nor would he answer him when 
+addressed nor make any reply to his questions. At 
+last Periander was so angry that he drove the boy 
+from his house. 
+
+51. Having so done he questioned the elder son, 
+what their grandfather had said in converse to them. 
+The boy told him that Procles had treated them 
+kindly; but he made no mention of what he had 
+said at parting; for he had taken no heed to it. 
+Periander said it could not be but that Procles had 
+given them some admonition; and he questioned 
+his son earnestly ; till the boy remembered, and told 
+of that also. Being thus informed, Periander was 
+resolved to show no weakness ; he sent a message to 
+those with whom his banished son was living and 
+- bade them not entertain him in their house. So the 
+boy being driven forth and going to another house 
+was ever rejected there too, Periander threatening 
+all who received him and bidding them keep him 
+
+
+65 
+VOL. II. F 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+µενος ὃ ἂν ἤιε ἐπ᾽ ἑτέρην τῶν ἑταίρων ob δὲ ἅτε 
+Περιάνδρου ἐόντα παῖδα καίπερ δειμαίνοντες ὅμως 
+ἐδέκοντο. 
+
+52. Τέλος δὲ ὁ Περίανδρος. κήρυγμα ἐποιήσατο, 
+os ἂν ἢ οἰκίοισι ὑποδέξηταί μιν ἢ προσδιαλεχθῇ, 
+ἱρὴν ζημίην τοῦτον τῷ ᾿Απόλλωνι -ὀφείλειν, 6 ὅσην 
+δὴ εἴπας. πρὸς: ὧν δὴ τοῦτο τὸ κήρυγμα οὔτε τίς 
+οἱ διαλέγεσθαι οὔτε οἰκίοισι δέκεσθαι ἤθελε' πρὸς 
+δὲ οὐδὲ αὐτὸς ἐκεῖνος ἐδικαίου πειρᾶσθαι ἀπειρη- 
+μένου, ἀλλὰ διακαρτερέων ἐν τῇσι στοῇσι éka- 
+λινδέετο. τετάρτῃ δὲ ἡ ἡμέρῃ ἰδών μιν ὁ Περίανδρος 
+ἀλουσίῃσί τε καὶ à ἀσιτίῃσι συμπεπτωκότα οἴκτειρε' 
+ὑπεὶς δὲ τῆς ὀργῆς ἤιε ἆσσον καὶ ἔλεγε i Ὢ παῖ, 
+κότερα τούτων αἱρετώτερα ἐστί, ταῦτα τὸ νῦν 
+ἔχων πρήσσεις, 7 τὴν τυραννίδα καὶ τὰ ἀγαθὰ 
+τὰ νῦν ἐγὼ ἔχω, ταῦτα ἐόντα τῷ πατρὶ ἐπιτήδεον 
+παραλαμβάνει», ὃ ὃς ἐὼν ἐμός τε παῖς καὶ Κορίνθου 
+τῆς εὐδαίμονος βασιλεὺς ἀλήτην βίον εἶλευ, à ἀντι- 
+στατέων τε καὶ ὁ ὀργῇ χρεώμενος ἐς τόν σε ἥκιστα 
+ἐχρῆν. εἰ γάρ τις συμφορὴ ἐν αὐτοῖσι γέγονε, ἐξ 
+ἧς ὑποψίην ἐς ἐμὲ ἔχεις, ἐ ἐμοί τε αὕτη γέγονε καὶ 
+ἐγὼ αὐτῆς τὸ πλεῦν μέτοχος εἰμί, ὅσῳ αὐτός 
+σφεα ἐξεργασάμην. σὺ δὲ μαθὼν ὅ ὅσῳ φθονέεσθαι 
+κρέσσον ἐστὶ ἢ οἰκτείρεσθαι, ἅ ἅμα τε ὁκοῖόν τι ἐς 
+τοὺς τοκέας καὶ ἐς τοὺς κρέσσονας τεθυμῶσθαι, 
+ἄπιθι ἐς τὰ οἰκία.᾽ Περίανδρος μὲν τούτοισι αὐτὸν 
+κατελάμβανε ὃ δὲ ἆλλο μὲν οὐδὲν ἀμείβεται τὸν 
+πατέρα, ἔφη δέ ptv ἱρὴν ζημίην ὀφείλειν τῷ θεῷ 
+ἑωυτῷ ἐς λόγους ἀπικόμενον. μαθὼν δὲ ὁ Περί ἐς 
+ανδρος ὡς ἄπορόν TL TO κακὸν εἴη τοῦ παιδὸς καὶ 
+ἀνίκητον, ἐξ ὀφθαλμῶν μιν ἀποπέμπεται στείλας 
+πλοῖον ἐς Κέρκυραν: ἐπεκράτεε γὰρ καὶ ταύτης" 
+
+
+66 
+
+
+BOOK ΤΠ. 51-52 
+
+
+out; so he would go, when driven forth, to some 
+other house of his friends, who, though they were 
+- afraid, did yet receive him as being Periander's son. 
+52. At the last Periander made a proclamation, 
+that whosoever should receive him into their houses 
+or address him should be held liable to a fine con- 
+secrated to Apollo, and he named the sum. In face of 
+this proclamation none would address or receive the 
+boy into his house; nor did the boy himself think 
+well to try to defy the warning, but hardened his 
+heart and lay untended in porches. After three 
+days Periander saw him all starved and unwashed, 
+and took pity on him: his anger being somewhat 
+abated, he came near and said: * My son, which is 
+the better way to choose—to follow your present 
+way of life, or to obey your father and inherit my 
+sovereignty and the good things which I now pos- 
+sess? You are my son, and a prince of wealthy 
+Corinth ; yet you have chosen the life of a vagrant, 
+by withstanding and angrily entreating him who 
+should least be so used by you. For if there has 
+been any evil chance in the matter, which makes 
+you to suspect me, ‘tis on me that it has come and 
+"tis I that bear the greater share of it, inasmuch as 
+the act was mine. Nay, bethink you how much 
+better a thing it is to be envied than to be pitied, 
+and likewise what comes of anger against parents and 
+those that are stronger than you, and come away 
+‘to my house." Thus Periander tried to win his son. 
+But the boy only answered: “ You have made your- 
+self liable to the fine consecrated to the god by 
+speaking to me." Then Periander saw that his son's 
+trouble was past cure or constraint, and sent him away 
+im a ship to Corcyra out of his sight ; for Corcyra too 
+
+
+63 
+F 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἀποστείλας δὲ τοῦτον ὁ Περίανδρος ἐστρατεύετο 
+ἐπὶ τὸν πενθερὸ ov Ἡροκλέα ὡς τῶν παρεόντων οἱ 
+πρηγμάτων ἐόντα αἰτιώτατον, καὶ εἷλε μὲν τὴν 
+᾿Επίδαυρον, εἷλε δὲ αὐτὸν Προκλέα καὶ ἐξώγρησε. 
+
+53. ᾿Επεὶ δὲ τοῦ χρόνου προβαίνοντος ὅ τε 
+ILepíavó ος παρηβήκεε καὶ συνεγινώσκετο ἑωυτῷ 
+οὐκέτι Da δυνατὸς τὰ πρήγματα ἐπορᾶν τε καὶ 
+διέπειν, πέμψας ἐς τὴν Κέρκυραν ἀπεκάλεε τὸν 
+Λυκόφρονα ἐπὶ τὴν τυραννίδα" ἐν γὰρ δὴ τῷ 
+πρεσβυτέρῳ τῶν παίδων οὔκων ἐνώρα, ἀλλά οἱ 
+κατεφαίνετο εἶναι νωθέστερος. ὁ δὲ Λυκόφρων 
+οὐδὲ ἀνακρίσιος ἠξίωσε τὸν φέροντα τὴν ἀγγελίην. 
+Περίανδρος δὲ περιεχόμενος τοῦ νεηνίεω δεύτερα 
+ἀπέστειλε ἐπ᾽ αὐτὸν τὴν ἀδελφεήν, ἑωυτοῦ δὲ 
+θυγατέρα, δοκέων μιν μάλιστα ταύτῃ ἂν πείθε- 
+σθαι. ἀπικομένης δὲ ταύτης καὶ λεγούσης “ο 
+mat, βούλεαι τήν. τε τυραννίδα ἐς ἄλλους πεσεῖν 
+καὶ τὸν οἶκον τοῦ πατρὸς διαφορηθέντα μᾶλλον 7) 
+αὐτός σφεα ἀπελθὼν ἔχειν; ἄπιθι ἐς τὰ οἰκία, 
+παῦσαι σεωυτὸν ξημιῶν. Φιλοτιμίη κτῆμα σκαιόν. 
+μὴ τῷ κακῷ τὸ κακὸν ἰῷ. πολλοὶ τῶν δικαίων 
+τὰ ἐπιεικέστερα προτιθεῖσι, πολλοὶ δὲ ἤδη τὰ 
+μητρώια διζήμενοι τὰ πατρώια ἀπέβαλον. τυ- 
+ραννὶς͵ χρῆμα σφαλερὸν, πολλοὶ δὲ αὐτῆς ἐρασταί 
+εἰσι, ὃ δὲ γέρων τε ἤδη καὶ παρηβηκώς- μὴ 
+δῷς τὰ σεωυτοῦ ἀγαθὰ ἄλλοισι." ἣ μὲν δὴ τὰ 
+ἐπαγωγότατα διδαχθεῖσα ὑπὸ τοῦ πατρὸς ἔλεγ 
+πρὸς αὐτόν: ὃ δὲ ὑποκρινάμενος ἔφη οὖδαμ 
+ἥξειν ἐς Κόρινθον, č ἔστ᾽ ἂν πυνθάνηται περιεόντ 
+τὸν πατέρα. ἀπαγγειλάσης δὲ ταύτης ταῦτα, τ 
+τρύτον Περίανδρος κήρυκα πέμπει Βουλόμενο 
+αὐτὸς μὲν ἐς Κέρκυραν ἥκειν; ἐκεῖνον δὲ ἐκέλευ 
+
+
+68 MEN 
+
+
+BOOK III. 52-53 
+
+
+was subject to him; which done, he sent an army 
+against Procles his father-in-law (deeming him to be 
+the chief cause of his present troubles), and took 
+Procles himself. alive, besides taking Epidaurus. 
+
+53. As time went on, Periander, now grown past 
+his prime and aware that he could no longer oversee 
+and direct all his business, sent to Corcyra inviting 
+Lycophron to be despot; for he saw no hope in 
+his eldest son, who seemed to him to be slow-witted. 
+Lycophron refused even to answer the messenger. 
+Then Periander, greatly desiring that the young man 
+should come, sent to him (as the next best way) 
+his own daughter, the youth’s sister, thinking 
+that he would be likeliest to obey her. She came 
+and said, “ Brother, would you see the sovereignty 
+
+‘pass to others, and our father’s house plundered, 
+rather than come hence and have it for your own? 
+Nay, come away home and cease from punishing 
+yourself. Pride is the possession of fools. Seek not 
+to cure one ill by another. There be many that 
+set reason before righteousness; and many that 
+by zeal for their mother's cause have lost their 
+father's possessions. Despotism is a thing hard to 
+hold ; many covet it, and our father is now old and 
+past his prime; give not what is your estate to 
+others." So, by her father's teaching, she used such 
+arguments as were most likely to win Lycophron; but 
+he answered, that he would never come to Corinth as 
+long as he knew his father to be alive. When she 
+brought this answer back, Periander sent a third 
+messenger, offering to go to Corcyra himself, and 
+
+
+29 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐς Κόρινθον ἀπικόμενον διάδοχον γίνεσθαι τῆς 
+τυραννίδος. καταινέσαντος δὲ ἐπὶ τούτοισι τοῦ 
+παιδός, ὁ ὁ μὲν Περίανδρος ἐστέλλετο ἐς τὴν Κέρκυ- 
+ραν, ὁ δὲ παῖς οἱ ἐς τὴν Κόρινθον. μαθόντες δὲ 
+οἱ Κερκυραῖοι τούτων ἕκαστα, ἵνα μή σφι Περί- 
+ανδρος ἐς τὴν χώρην ἀπίκηται, κτείνουσι τὸν 
+νεηνίσκον. ἀντὶ τούτων μὲν Περίανδρος Κερκυ- 
+ραίους ἐτιμωρέετο. 
+
+δ4. Λακεδαιμόνιοι δὲ στόλῳ μεγάλῳ ὡς ἀπί- 
+κοντο, ἐπολιόρκεον Σάμον' προσβαλόντες δὲ πρὸς 
+τὸ τείχος τοῦ μὲν a pos θαλάσσῃ ἑ ἑστεῶτος πύργου 
+κατὰ τὸ προάστειον τῆς πόλιος ἐπέβησαν, μετὰ 
+δὲ αὐτοῦ βοηθήσαντος Πολυκράτεος χειρὶ πολλῇ 
+ἀπηλάσθησαν. κατὰ δὲ τὸν ἐπάνω πύργον τὸν 
+ἐπὶ τῆς ῥάχιος τοῦ ὄρεος ἐπεόντα ἐπεξῆλθον οὗ τε 
+ἐπίκουροι καὶ αὐτῶν Σαμίων συχνοί, δεξάμενοι δὲ, 
+τοὺς Λακεδαιμονίους ἐπ᾽ ὀλίγον χρόνον ἔφευγον 
+ὀπίσω, οἳ δὲ ἐ ἐπισπόμενοι ἔκτεινον. 
+
+55. Ei N νυν οἱ παρεόντες Λακεδαιμονίων 
+ὅμοιοι ἐγένοντο ταύτην τὴν ἡμέρην ᾿Αρχίῃ. τε καὶ 
+Λυκώπη, αἱρέθη ἂν Σάμος" ᾿Αρχίης γὰρ. καὶ 
+Λυκώπης μοῦνοι συνεσπεσόντες φεύγουσι ἐς τὸ 
+τεῖχος τοῖσι Σαμίοισι καὶ ἀποκληισθέντες τῆς 
+ὀπίσω. ὁδοῦ ἀπέθανον ἐ ἐν τῇ πόλι τῇ ἢ Σαμίων. τρίτῳ 
+δὲ ἀπ᾽ ᾿Αρχίεω τούτου γεγονότι ἄλλῳ ᾿Αρχίῃ τῷ 
+Σαμίου τοῦ ᾿Αρχίεω αὐτὸς ἐν Πιτάνῃ συνεγενόμην 
+(δήμου γὰρ τούτου ἦν), ὃς ξείνων Mi μάλιστα 
+ἐτίμα τε αμίους καί οἱ τῷ πατρὶ ἔφη. Σάμιον 
+τοὔνομα τεθῆναι, ὅ ὅτι οἱ ὁ πατὴρ ᾿Αρχίης ἐν Σάμῳ 
+ἀριστεύσας ἐτελεύτησε’ τιμᾶν δὲ Kos ἔφη, 
+διότι ταφῆναί οἱ τὸν πάππον δημοσίῃ ὑπὸ 
+Σαμίων. 
+
+
+7ο 
+
+
+BOOK III. 53-55 
+
+
+to make Lycophron, when he came, despot in 
+his place. The son consented to this; Periander 
+made ready to go to Corcyra and Lycophron to go to 
+Corinth ; but when the Corcyraeans learnt of all 
+these matters they put the young man to death, 
+lest Periander should come to their country. It was 
+for this that Periander desired vengeance upon them. 
+
+54. The Lacedaemonians then came with a great 
+host, and laid siege to Samos. They assailed the 
+fortress and made their way into the tower by the 
+seaside in the outer part of the city ; but presently 
+Polycrates himself attacked them with a great force 
+and drove them out. The foreign soldiery and 
+many of the Samians themselves sallied out near 
+the upper tower on the ridge of the hill, and with- 
+stood the Lacedaemonian onset for a little while ; 
+then they fled back, the Lacedaemonians pursuing 
+and slaying them. 
+
+55. Now had all the Lacedaemonians there fought 
+as valiantly that day as Archias and Lycopas, Samos 
+had been taken. These two alone entered the 
+fortress along with the fleeing crowd of Samians, 
+and their way back being barred were then slain in 
+the city of Samos. I myself have met in his native 
+township of Pitana ! another Archias (son of Samius, 
+and grandson of the Archias afore-named), who 
+honoured the Samians more than any other of his 
+guest-friends, and told me that his father had 
+borne the name Samius because he was the son of 
+that Archias who was slain fighting gallantly at 
+Samos. The reason of his honouring the Samians, 
+he said, was that they hàd given his grandfather a 
+public funeral. 
+
+! A part of the town of Sparta ; Herodotus calls it by the ' 
+Attic name of δῆμος; the Peloponnesian word would be κώμα. 
+
+
+7! 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+56. Λακεδαιμόνιοι δέ, ὥς σφι τεσσεράκοντα 
+ἐγεγόνεσαν ἡμέραι πολιορκέουσι - Σάμον ἐς τὸ 
+πρόσω τε οὐδὲν προεκόπτετο τῶν πρηγμάτων, 
+ἀπαλλάσσοντο ἐς Πελοπόννησον. ὡς δὲ ὁ pa- 
+ταιότερος λόγος ὅρμηται, λέγεται Πολυκράτεα 
+ἐπιχώριον νόμισμα κόψαντα πολλὸν μολύβδου 
+καταχρυσώσαντα δοῦναί σφι, τοὺς 9ὲ δεξαμένους 
+οὕτω δὴ ἀπαλλάσσεσθαι. ταύτην πρώτην στρα- 
+τηίην ἐς τὴν ᾿Ασίην Λακεδαιμόνιοι Δωριέες ἐποιή- 
+σαντο. 
+
+57. Οἱ δ ἐπὶ τὸν Πολυκράτεα στρατευσάμενοι 
+Σαμίων, ἐπεὶ οἱ Λακεδαιμόνιοι αὐτοὺς ἀπολιπεῖν 
+ἔμελλον, καὶ αὐτοὶ ἀπέπλεον ἐς Σίφνον, χρημάτων 
+γὰρ ἐδέοντο. τὰ δὲ τῶν Σιφνίων πρήγματα ἥκμαζε 
+τοῦτον τὸν χρόνον, καὶ νησιωτέων μάλιστα ἐπλού- 
+τεον, ἅτε ἐόντων αὐτοῖσι ἐν τῇ νήσῳ χρυσέων καὶ 
+ἀργυρέων μετάλλων, οὕτω ὥστε ἀπὸ τῆς δεκάτης 
+τῶν γινομένων αὐτόθεν χρημάτων θησαυρὸς ἐν 
+Δελφοῖσι ἀνάκειται ὅμοια τοῖσι πλουσιωτάτοισι; 
+αὐτοὶ δὲ τὰ γινόμενα τῷ ἐνιαυτῷ ἑκάστῳ χρήματα 
+διενέμοντο. ὅτε ὧν ἐποιεῦντο τὸν θησαυρόν, ἐχρέ- 
+ωντο τῷ χρηστηρίῳ εἰ αὐτοῖσι τὰ παρεόντα ἀγαθὰ 
+old τε ἐστὶ πολλὸν χρόνον παραμένειν" ἡ δὲ 
+Πυθίη ἔχρησέ σφι τάδε. 
+
+
+AAN ὅταν ἐν Σίφνῳ πρυτανήια λευκὰ γένηται 
+
+λεύκοφρύς T ἀγορή, τότε δὴ δεῖ φράδμονος 
+ἀνδρός 
+
+φράσσασθαι ξύλινόν τε λόχον κήρυκά T 
+
+
+ἐρυθρόν." 
+
+
+«τοῖσι δὲ Σιφνίοισι ἦν τότε ἡ ἀγορὴ καὶ τὸ πρυτα- 
+νήιον Παρίῳ λίθῳ ἠσκημένα. 
+
+
+72 
+
+
+BOOK III. 56-5; 
+
+
+56. So when the Lacedaemonians had besieged 
+Samos for forty days with no success, they went 
+away to Peloponnesus. There is a foolish tale 
+abroad that Polycrates bribed them to depart by 
+making and giving them a great number of gilt 
+leaden coins, as a native currency. This was the 
+first expedition to Asia made by  Dorians of 
+Lacedaemon.! 
+
+57. When the Lacedaemonians were about to 
+abandon them, the Samians who had brought an 
+army against Polycrates sailed away too, and went 
+to Siphnus; for they were in want of money ; and 
+the Siphnians were at this time very prosperous and 
+the richest of the islanders, by reason of the gold 
+and silver mines of the island. So wealthy were 
+they that the treasury dedicated by them at Delphi, 
+which is as rich as any there, was made from the 
+tenth part of their revenues; and they made a dis- 
+tribution for themselves of each year's revenue. 
+Now when they were making the treasury they 
+enquired of the oracle if their present well-being 
+was like to abide long; whereto the priestess gave 
+them this answer: 
+
+
+* Siphnus, beware of the day when white is thy 
+high prytaneum, 
+White-browed thy mart likewise; right prudent 
+then be thy counsel ; 
+Cometh an ambush of wood and a herald red to 
+assail thee.” 
+At this time the market-place and town-hall of 
+Siphnus were adorned with Parian marble. 
+
+
+1 Not the first expedition, that is, made by any inhabitants 
+of Laconia, Achaeans from that country having taken part 
+in the Trojan war. 
+
+
+13 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+58. Τοῦτον τὸν χρησμὸν οὐκ οἷοί τε ἦσαν 
+γνῶναι οὔτε τότε εὐθὺς οὔτε τῶν Σαμίων ἀπιγ- 
+μένων. ἐπείτε γὰρ τάχιστα πρὸς τὴν Σίφνον 
+προσῖσχον οἱ Σάμιοι, ἔπεμπον τῶν νεῶν μίαν 
+πρέσβεας ἄγουσαν ἐς τὴν πόλιν. τὸ δὲ παλαιὸν 
+ἅπασαι αἱ νέες ἦσαν μιλτηλιφέες, καὶ ἦν τοῦτο 
+τὸ ἡ Πυθίη προηγόρευε τοῖσι Σιφνίοισι, φυλάξα- 
+σθαι τὸν ξύλινον λόχον κελεύουσα καὶ κήρυκα 
+ἐρυθρόν. ἀπικόμενοι ὧν οἱ ἄγγελοι ἐδέοντο τῶν 
+Σιφνίων δέκα τάλαντά σφι χρῆσαι" οὐ φασκόντων 
+δὲ χρήσειν τῶν Σιφνίων αὐτοῖσι, οἱ Σάμιοι τοὺς 
+
+ώρους αὐτῶν ἐπόρθεον. πυθόμενοι δὲ εὐθὺς ἧκον 
+οἱ Σίφνιοι βοηθέοντες καὶ συμβαλόντες αὐτοῖσι 
+ἑσσώθησαν, καὶ αὐτῶν πολλοὶ ἀπεκληίσθησαν 
+τοῦ ἄστεος ὑπὸ τῶν Σαμίων, καὶ αὐτοὺς μετὰ 
+ταῦτα ἑκατὸν τάλαντα ἔπρηξαν. 
+
+59. Παρὰ δὲ "Ἑρμιονέων νῆσον ἀντὶ χρημάτων 
+παρέλαβον “Ὑδρέην τὴν ἐπὶ Πελοποννήσῳ καὶ 
+αὐτὴν Ὑροιξηνίοισι παρακατέθεντο' αὐτοὶ δὲ 
+Κυδωνίην τὴν ἐν Κρήτη ἔκτισαν, οὐκ ἐπὶ τοῦτο 
+πλέοντες ἀλλὰ Ζακυνθίους ἐξελῶντες ἐκ τῆς νήσου. 
+ἔμειναν δ᾽ ἐν ταύτῃ καὶ εὐδαιμόνησαν ἐπ ἔτεα 
+πέντε, ὥστε τὰ ἱρὰ τὰ ἐν Κυδωνίῃ ἐόντα νῦν οὗτοι 
+εἰσὶ οἱ ποιήσαντες [καὶ τὸν τῆς Δικτύνης νηόν]. 
+ἕκτῳ δὲ ἔτεϊ Αἰγινῆται αὐτοὺς ναυμαχίῃ νική- 
+σαντες ἠνδραποδίσαντο μετὰ Κρητῶν, καὶ τῶν 
+νεῶν καπρίους ἐχουσέων τὰς πρώρας ἠκρωτηρίασαν 
+καὶ ἀνέθεσαν ἐς τὸ ἱρὸν τῆς ᾿Αθηναίης ἐν Αἰγίνῃ. 
+ταῦτα δὲ ἐποίησαν ἔγκοτον ἔχοντες Σαμίοισι 
+
+
+1 Stein thinks xal... νηόν an interpolation; the temple of 
+Dictyna was at some distance from Cydonia, and the cult 
+was not a Greek one. ! 
+
+
+74 
+
+
+BOOK III. 58-59 
+
+
+58. They could not understand this oracle either 
+when it was spoken or at the time of the Samians' 
+coming. As soon as the Samians put in at Siphnus, 
+they sent ambassadors to the town in one of their 
+ships; now in ancient times all ships were painted 
+with vermilion!; and this was what was meant by 
+the warning given by the priestess to the Siphnians, 
+to beware of a wooden ambush and a red herald. 
+The messengers, then, demanded from the Siphnians 
+a loan of ten talents; which being refused, the 
+Samians set about ravaging their lands. Hearing 
+this the Siphnians came out forthwith to drive 
+them off, but they were worsted in battle, and 
+many of them were cut off from their town by 
+the Samians; who presently exacted from them a 
+‘hundred talents. 
+
+59. Then the Samians took from the men of 
+Hermione, instead of money, the island Hydrea 
+which is near to Peloponnesus, and gave it in 
+charge to men of Troezen; they themselves 
+settled at Cydonia in Crete, though their voyage 
+had been made with no such intent, but rather to 
+drive Zacynthians out of the island. Here they 
+stayed and prospered for five years; indeed, the 
+temples now at Cydonia and the shrine of Dictyna 
+are the Samians’ work; but in the sixth year 
+came Aeginetans and Cretans and overcame 
+them in a sea-fight and made slaves of them; 
+moreover they cut off the ships’ prows, that were 
+shaped like boars’ heads, and dedicated them 
+in the temple of Athene in Aegina. This the 
+Aeginetans did out of a grudge against the 
+Samians, who had begun the quarrel; for when 
+
+
+1 μιλτοπάρῃοι is one of the Homeric epithets of ships. 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Αὐγινῆται' πρότεροι γὰρ Lapor ἐπ᾽ ᾿Αμϕικράτεος 
+βασιλεύοντος ἐν Σάμῳ στρατευσάμενοι ἐπ᾽ Αἴγιναν 
+, 93 / , , \ mM” e 9 
+μεγάλα κακὰ ἐποίησαν Αἰγινήτας καὶ ἔπαθον ὑπ 
+ἐκείνων. ἡ μὲν αἰτίη αὕτη. 
+60. Ἐμήκυνα δὲ περὶ Σαμίων μᾶλλον, ὅτι σφι 
+/ , / e / e / 3 
+τρία ἐστὶ μέγιστα ἁπάντων Ἑλλήνων ἐξερ- 
+γασμένα, ὄρεός τε ὑψηλοῦ ἐς πεντήκοντα καὶ 
+ἑκατὸν ὀργυιάς, τούτου ὄρυγμα κάτωθεν ἀρξά- 
+/ ^ ^ 
+μενον, ἀμφίστομον. τὸ μὲν μῆκος τοῦ ὀρύγ- 
+€ . {ὃ > 7 . δὲ e M . 
+ματος ἑπτὰ στάδιοι εἰσί, τὸ δὲ ὕψος καὶ εὖρος 
+, κ.ε 7 , N λ Ν. > aA X 
+ὀκτὼ ἑκάτερον πόδες. διὰ παντὸς δὲ αὐτοῦ ἄλλο 
+ὄρυγμα εἰκοσίπηχυ βάθος ὀρώρυκται, τρίπουν δὲ 
+τὸ εὖρος, δι οὗ τὸ ὕδωρ ὀχετευόμενον διὰ τῶν 
+σωλήνων παραγίνεται ἐς τὴν πόλιν ἀγόμενον ἀπὸ 
+μεγάλης πηγῆς. ἀρχιτέκτων δὲ τοῦ ὀρύγματος 
+τούτου ἐγένετο Μεγαρεὺς Εὐπαλῖνος Ναυστρόφου. 
+τοῦτο μὲν δὴ ἓν τῶν τριῶν ἐστι, δεύτερον δὲ 
+περὶ λιμένα χῶμα ἐν θαλάσση, βάθος καὶ εἴκοσι 
+^ ^ / 
+ὀργυιέων' μῆκος δὲ τοῦ χώματος μέξον δύο σταδίων. 
+τρίτον δέ σφι ἐξέργασται νηὸς μέγιστος πάντων 
+νηῶν τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν' τοῦ ἀρχιτέκτων πρῶτος 
+ἐγένετο Ῥοΐκος Φιλέω ἐπιχώριος. τούτων εἵνεκεν 
+μᾶλλόν τι περὶ Σαμίων ἐμήκυνα. 
+7 M ^ , [4 4 
+6]. Καμβύσῃ δὲ τῷ Κύρου χρονίξοντι περὶ 
+Αἴγυπτον καὶ παραφρονήσαντι ἐπανιστέαται 
+ἄνδρες Μάγοι δύο ἀδελφεοί, τῶν τὸν ἕτερον κατα- 
+λελοίπεε τῶν οἰκίων μελεδωνὸν ὁ Καμβύσης. οὗτος 
+δὴ ὧν οἱ ἐπανέστη μαθών τε τὸν Σμέρδιος θάνατον 
+/ 
+ὡς κρύπτοιτο γενόμενος, καὶ ὡς ὀλίγοι εἴησαν οἱ 
+
+
+46 
+
+
+BOOK III. 59-61 
+
+
+. Amphicrates was king of Samos they had sent an 
+army against Aegina, whereby now the Samians 
+and now the Aeginetans had suffered great harm. 
+Such was the cause of the feud. 
+
+60. I have written thus at length of the Samians, 
+because they are the makers of the three greatest 
+works to be seen in any Greek land. First of these 
+is the double-mouthed channel pierced for an 
+hundred and fifty fathoms through the base of a 
+high hill; the whole channel is seven furlongs long,! 
+eight feet high and eight feet wide; and through- 
+out the whole of its length there runs another 
+channel twenty cubits deep and three feet wide, 
+wherethrough the water coming from an abundant 
+spring is carried by its pipes to the city of Samos. 
+The designer of this work was Eupalinus son of 
+Naustrophus, a Megarian. This is one of the 
+three works; the second is a mole in the sea 
+enclosing the harbour, sunk full twenty fathoms, 
+and more than two furlongs in length. The third 
+Samian work is the temple, which is the greatest 
+that I have seen; its first builder was Rhoecus 
+son of Philes, a Samian. It is for this cause that 
+I have written: at length more than ordinary of 
+Samos. 
+
+61. Now after Cambyses son of Cyrus had lost his 
+wits, while he still lingered in Egypt, two Magians, 
+who were brothers, rebelled against him.?* One of 
+them had been left by Cambyses to be steward of 
+his house; this man now revolted from him, per- 
+ceiving that the death of Smerdis was kept secret, 
+
+
+! Remains of this work show that the tunnel was only 
+1100 feet long. 
+3 The story dropped at ch. 38 is now taken up again. 
+
+
+is 17 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐπιστάμενοι αὐτὸν Περσέων, οἱ δὲ πολλοὶ περιε- 
+όντα μιν εὐδείησαν. πρὸς ταῦτα βουλεύσας τάδε 
+ἐπεχείρησε .τοῖσι βασιληίοισι. «ἣν οἱ ἀδελφέος, 
+τὸν εἶπά οἱ συνεπαναστῆναι, οἰκὼς μάλιστα τὸ 
+εἶδος Σμέρδι τῷ Κύρου, τὸν. ὁ Καμβύσης ἐόντα 
+ἑωυτοῦ ἀδελφεὸν ὁ ἀπέκτεινε ἦν τε δὴ ὅ ὅμοιος εἶδος 
+τῷ Σμέρδι καὶ δὴ καὶ οὔνομα τὠυτὸ εἶχε Σμέρδιν. 
+τοῦτον τὸν ἄνδρα ἀναγνώσας ὁ Μάγος Πατιξείθης 
+ὥς οἱ αὐτὸς πάντα διαπρήξει, εἶσε ἄγων ἐς τὸν 
+βασιλήιον θρόνον. ποιήσας δὲ τοῦτο κήρυκας τῇ 
+τε ἄλλῃ διέπεμπε καὶ δὴ καὶ ἐς Αἴγυπτον προερέ- 
+οντα τῷ στρατῷ ὡς Σμέρδιος τοῦ Κύρου ἀκουστέα 
+εἴη τοῦ λοιποῦ ἀλλ᾽ οὐ Καμβύσεω. 
+
+62. Οἵ τε δὴ ὧν ἄλλοι κήρυκες προηγόρευον 
+ταῦτα καὶ δὴ καὶ ὁ ἐπ᾽ Αἴγυπτον ταχθείς, εὕρισκε 
+γὰρ Καμβύσεα καὶ τὸν στρατὸν ἐόντα τῆς Συρίης 
+ἐν ᾿Αγβατάνοισι, προηγόρευε στὰς ἐς μέσον τὰ 
+ἐντεταλμένα ἐκ τοῦ Μάγου. Καμβύσης δὲ ἀκού- 
+σας ταῦτα ἐκ τοῦ κήρυκος καὶ ἐλπίσας μιν λέγειν 
+ἀληθέα αὐτός τε προδεδόσθαι ἐκ Πρηξάσπεος 
+(πεμφθέντα γὰρ αὐτὸν ὡς ἀποκτενέοντα Σμέρδιν 
+οὗ ποιῆσαι ταῦτα), βλέψας ἐς τὸν Πρηξάσπεα 
+εἶπε “ Πρήξασπες, οὕτω μοι διεπρήξαο τό τοι 
+προσέθηκα πρῆγμα; ὃ δὲ εἶπε t Ὢ δέσποτα, οὐκ 
+ἔστι ταῦτα ἀληθέα, ὅ ὅκως κοτὲ σοὶ Σμέρδις ἆδελ.- 
+φεὸς σὸς ἐπανέστηκε, οὐδὲ ὅ ὅκως τι ἐξ ἐκείνου τοῦ 
+ἀνδρὸς νεῖκός τοι ἔσται ἢ μέγα 7 Maid ἐγὼ 
+γὰρ αὐτός, ποιήσας τὰ σύ με ἐκέλευες, ἔθαψά µιν 
+χερσὶ τῇσι ἐμεωυτοῦ. εἰ μέν νυν οἱ τεθνεῶτες 
+ἀνεστᾶσι, προσδέκεό τοι καὶ ᾿Αστυάγεα τὸν Μῆδον 
+ἐπαναστήσεσθαι" εἰ δ᾽ ἔστι ὥσπερ πρὸ τοῦ, οὐ μή 
+τί τοι ἔκ γε ἐκείνου νεώτερον ἀναβλάστῃ. νῦν ὧν 
+
+
+78 
+
+
+BOOK III. 61-62 
+
+
+and that few persons knew of it, most of them 
+believing him to be still alive. Therefore he thus 
+plotted to gain the royal power: he had a brother, 
+his partner, as I said, in rebellion ; this brother was 
+very like in appearance to Cyrus' son, Smerdis, 
+brother of Cambyses and by him put to death ; nor 
+was he like him in appearance only, but he bore 
+the same name also, Smerdis.  Patizeithes the 
+Magian persuaded this man that he, Patizeithes, 
+would manage the whole business for him; he 
+brought his brother and set him on the royal 
+throne; which done, he sent heralds to all parts, 
+one of whom was to go to Egypt and proclaim to 
+the army that henceforth they must obey not 
+Cambyses but Smerdis the son of Cyrus. 
+
+62. So this proclamation was everywhere made; 
+the herald appointed to go to Egypt, finding 
+Cambyses and his army at Agbatana in Syria, came 
+out before them all and proclaimed the message 
+given him by the Magian. When Cambyses heard 
+what the herald said, he,supposed that it was truth, 
+and that Prexaspes, when sent to kill Smerdis, had 
+‘not so done but played Cambyses false; and he 
+said, fixing his eyes on Prexaspes, *Is it thus, 
+Prexaspes, that you did my behest?"  * Nay," said 
+Prexaspes, “ this is no truth, sire, that your brother 
+Smerdis has rebelled against you ; nor can it be that 
+he will have any quarrel with you, small or great ; 
+I myself did your bidding, and mine own hands 
+buried him. If then the dead can rise, you may 
+look to see Astyages the Mede rise up against you ; 
+but if nature's order be not changed, assuredly 
+no harm to you will arise from Smerdis. Now 
+
+
+79 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μοι δοκέει μεταδιώξαντας τὸν κήρυκα ἐξετάξειν 
+εἰρωτεῦντας πα ὅτευ. ἥκων προαγορεύει ἡμῖν 
+Σμέρδιος βασιλέος ἀκούειν. 
+
+65. Ταῦτα. εἴπαντος Πρηξάσπεος, ἤ ἤρεσε γὰρ 
+Καμβύσῃ, αὐτίκα μεταδίωκτος γενόμενος ὁ κῆρυξ 
+ἧκε" ἀπιγμένον δέ μιν εἴρετο 0 Ἡρηξάσπης τάδε. 
+““Ὥνθρωπε, φῇς γὰρ ἥκειν παρὰ Σμέρδιος τοῦ 
+Κύρου ἄγγελος" νῦν ὧν εἴπας τὴν ἀληθείην ἄπιθι 
+χαίρων, κότερα αὐτός τοι Σμέρδις φαινόμενος ἐς 
+ὄψιν ἐνετέλλετο ταῦτα 7 τῶν τις ἐκείνου ὑπηρε- 
+τέων." ὃ δὲ εἶπε “᾿Εγὼ Σμέρδιν μὲν τὸν Κύρου, 
+ἐξ ὅτευ βασιλεὺς Καμβύσης ἤλασε ἐς Αἴγυπτον, 
+οὔκω ὄπωπα' ὁ δέ μοι Μάγος τὸν Καμβύσης ἐπί- 
+τροπον τῶν οἰκίων ἀπέδεξε, οὗτος ταῦτα ἐνετεί- 
+λατο, φὰς Σμέρδιν τὸν Κύρου εἶναι τὸν ταῦτα 
+ἐπιθέμενον εἶπαι πρὸς ὑμέας." ὃ μὲν δή σφι 
+ἔλεγε οὐδὲν ἐπικατεψευσμένος, Καμβύσης δὲ εἶπε 
+s Πρήξασπες, σὺ μὲν οἷα ἀνὴρ ἀγαθὸς ποιήσας 
+τὸ κελευόμενον αἰτίην ἐκπέφευγας" ἐμοὶ δὲ τίς 
+ἂν εἴη Περσέων ὁ ἐπανεδτεὼς ἐπιβατεύων τοῦ 
+Σμέρδιος οὐνόματος; ” ὃ δὲ εἶπε “᾿Εγώ μοι δοκέω 
+συνιέναι τὸ γεγονὸς τοῦτο, ὦ βασιλεῦ" οἱ Μάγοι 
+εἰσί τοι οἱ ἐπανεστεῶτες, τόν τε ἔλιπες μελεδωνὸν 
+τῶν οἰκίων, Πατιζείθης, καὶ ὁ τούτου ἀδελφεὸς 
+Σμέρδις." 
+
+64. ᾿Ενθαῦτα ἀκούσαντα Καμβύσεα τὸ ὁ Σμέρδιος 
+οὔνομα ἔτυψε ἡ ἀληθείη τῶν τε λόγων καὶ τοῦ 
+ἐνυπνίου" ὃς ἐδόκεε ἐν τῷ ὕπνῳ ἀπαγγεῖλαι τινά 
+οἱ ὡς Σμέρδις ἱζόμενος ἐς τὸν βασιλήιον θρόνον 
+γγαύσειε τῇ κεφαλῇ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ. μαθὼν δὲ ὡς 
+μάτην ἀπολωλεκὼς εἴη τὸν -ἀδελφέον, ἀπέκλαιε 
+Σμέρδιν: ἀποκλαύσας δὲ καὶ περιημεκτήσας τῇ 
+
+
+δο 
+
+
+BOOK III. 62-64 
+
+
+therefore this is my counsel, that we pursue after 
+this herald and examine him, to know from whom 
+he comes with his proclamation that we must 
+obey Smerdis as our king.” 
+
+63. Cambyses thought well of Prexaspes’ counsel ; 
+the herald was pursued and brought; and when he 
+came, Prexaspes put this question to him: “Sirrah, 
+you say that your message is from Cyrus’ son 
+Smerdis; tell me this now, and you may go hence 
+unpunished ; was it Smerdis who himself appeared to 
+you and gave you this charge, or was it one of his 
+servants?"  * Since King Cambyses marched to 
+Egypt," answered the herald, “I have never myself 
+seen Smerdis the son of Cyrus; the Magian whom 
+Cambyses made overseer of his house gave me the 
+charge, saying that it was the will of Smerdis, son 
+of Cyrus, that I should make it known to you." So 
+spoke the herald, telling the whole truth ; and Cam- 
+byses said, ‘‘ Prexaspes, I hold you innocent; you 
+have done my bidding right loyally; but who can 
+this Persian be who rebels against me and usurps 
+the name of Smerdis?" Prexaspes replied, “I 
+think, Sire, that I understand what has been done 
+here; the rebels are the Magians, Patizeithes whom 
+you left steward of your house, and his brother 
+Smerdis.” 
+
+64. At the name of Smerdis, Cambyses was 
+smitten to the heart by the truth of the word and 
+the fulfilment of his dream; for he had dreamt that 
+a message had come to him that Smerdis had sat on 
+the royal throne with his head reaching to heaven ; 
+and perceiving that he had killed his brother 
+without cause, he wept bitterly for Smerdis. 
+Having wept his fill, in great grief for all his mishap, 
+
+
+81 
+VOL. Il. G 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἁπάσῃ συμφορῇ ἀναθρώσκει ἐπὶ τὸν ἵππον, ἐν 
+νόῳ ἔχων τὴν ταχίστην ἐς Σοῦσα στρατεύεσθαι 
+ἐπὶ τὸν Μάγον. καί οἱ ἀναθρώσκοντι ἐπὶ τὸν 
+ἵππον τοῦ κολεοῦ τοῦ ξίφεος ὁ μύκης ἀποπίπτει, 
+γυμνωθὲν δὲ τὸ ξίφος παίει τὸν μηρόν" τρωματι- 
+σθεὶς δὲ κατὰ τοῦτο τῇ αὐτὸς πρότερον τὸν τῶν 
+Αἰγυπτίων θεὸν "Amu ἔπληξε, ὥς οἱ καιρίῃ ἔδοξε 
+τετύφθαι, εἴ ρετο ὁ ) Καμβύσης ὅ 6 τι Th πόλι οὔνομα 
+εἴη" οἳ δὲ εἶπαν ὅτι ᾿Αγβάτανα. τῷ δὲ ἔτι πρό- 
+τερον ἐκέχρηστο ἐκ Βουτοῦς πόλιος ἐν ᾿Αγθατά-. 
+νοισι τελευτήσειν τὸν βίον. ὃ μὲν δὴ ἐν τοῖσι 
+Μηδικοῖσι ᾿Αγβατάνοισι ἐδόκεε τελευτήσειν Ύηραι- 
+ós, ἐν τοῖσί οἱ ἦν τὰ πάντα πρήγματα: τὸ δὲ 
+χρηστήριον ἐν τοῖσι ἐν Lupin | ᾿Αγβατάνοισι' ἔλεγε 
+ἄρα. καὶ δὴ ὡς τότε ἐπειρόμενος ἐπύθετο τῆς 
+πόλιος τὸ οὔνομα, ὑπὸ τῆς συμφορῆς τῆς τε ἐκ 
+τοῦ Μάγου ἐκπεπληγμένος καὶ τοῦ τρώματος 
+ἐσωφρόνησε, συλλαβὼν δὲ τὸ θεοπρόπιον εἶπε 
+H ᾿Ενθαῦτα Καμβύσεα τὸν Κύρου ἐστὶ πεπρωμένον 
+τελευτᾶν.᾽ 
+
+65. Τότε μὲν τοσαῦτα. ἡμέρησι δὲ v ὕστερον ὡς 
+εἴκοσι μεταπεμψάμενος Περσέων τῶν «παρεόντων 
+τοὺς λογιμωτάτους ἔλεγέ σφι τάδε. “O ' Πέρσαι, 
+καταλελάβηκέ με, τὸ πάντων μάλιστα ἔκρυπτον 
+πρηγμάτων, τοῦτο ἐς ὑμέας ἐκφῆναι. ἐγὼ γὰρ 
+ἐὼν ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ εἶδον ὄψιν ἐν τῷ ὕπνῳ, τὴν 
+μηδαμὰ ὄφελον ἰδεῖν" ἐδόκεον δέ μοι ἄγγελον 
+ἐλθόντα ἐξ οἴκου ἀγγέλλειν ὡς Σμέρδις ἱζόμενος 
+ἐς τὸν βασιλήιον θρόνον ψαύσειε τῇ κεφαλῇ τοῦ 
+οὐρανοῦ. δείσας δὲ μὴ ἀπαιρεθέω τὴν ἀρχὴν πρὸς 
+τοῦ ἀδελφεοῦ, ἐ ἐποίησα ταχύτερα 5 σοφώτερα" ἐν 
+τῇ γὰρ ἀνθρωπηίῃ φύσι οὐκ ἐνῆν ἄρα τὸ μέλλον 
+
+
+82 
+
+
+BOOK III. 64-65 
+
+
+he leapt upon his horse, with intent to march forth- 
+with to Susa against the Magian. As he mounted, 
+the scabbard end of his sword slipped off, and the 
+naked blade struck his thigh, wounding him in the 
+same part where he himself had once smitten the 
+Egyptian god Apis; and believing the blow to be 
+mortal, Cambyses asked what was the name of the 
+town where he was. They told him it was Agbatana. . 
+Now a prophecy had ere this come to him from 
+Buto, that he would end his life at Agbatana; 
+Cambyses supposed this to signify that he would 
+die in old age at the Median Agbatana, his 
+capital city; but as the event proved, the oracle 
+prophesied his death at Agbatana of Syria. So when 
+he now enquired and learnt the name of the town, 
+the shock of his wound, and of the misfortune that 
+came to him from the Magian, brought him to hi 
+senses; he understood the prophecy and said 
+* Here Cambyses son of Cyrus is doomed to die." 
+65. At this time he said no more. But about 
+twenty days after, he sent for the most honourable 
+of the Persians that were about him, and thus 
+addressed them: ‘Needs must, Persians! that I 
+declare to you a matter which I kept most strictly 
+concealed. When I was in Egypt, I saw in my 
+sleep a vision that I would I had never seen; 
+methought a messenger came from home to tell me 
+that Smerdis had sat on the royal throne, his head 
+reaching to heaven. Then I feared that my brother 
+would take away from me my sovereignty, and I 
+acted with more haste than wisdom; for (as I now 
+| 83 
+ο 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+γίνεσθαι ἀποτράπειν. ἐγὼ. δὲ ὁ μάταιος Πρηξά- 
+σπεα ἀποπέμπω ἐς Σοῦσα ἀποκτενέοντα Σμέρδιν. 
+ἐξεργασθέντος δὲ κακοῦ τοσούτου ἀδεῶς διαιτώμην, 
+οὐδαμὰ ἐπιλεξάμενος μή. κοτέ τίς μοι Σμέρδιος 
+ὑπαραιρημένου ἄλλος ἐπανασταίη ἀνθρώπων. 
+παντὸς δὲ τοῦ μέλλοντος ἔσεσθαι . ἁμαρτὼν ἆδελ.- 
+φεοκτόνος τε οὐδὲν δέον γέγονα καὶ τῆς βασιληίης 
+_ οὐδὲν ἧσσον ἐστέρημαι: Σμέρδις yàp. δὴ ἦν ὁ 
+Μάγος Tóv µοι 0 δαίµων T οέφαινε ἐν τῇ ὄψι 
+ἐπαναστήσεσθαι. τὸ μὲν δὴ ἔργον ἐξέργασταί 
+μοι, καὶ Σμέρδιν τὸν Κύρου μηκέτι ὑμῖν ἐόντα 
+λογίξεσθε' οἱ δὲ ὑμῖν Μάγοι κρατέουσι τῶν βασι- 
+ληίων, τόν τε ἔλιπον ἐπίτροπον τῶν οἰκίων καὶ ὁ 
+ἐκείνου ἀδελφεὸς Σμέρδις. τὸν μέν νυν μάλιστα 
+χρῆν ἐμεῦ αἰσχρὰ πρὸς τῶν Μάγων πεπονθότος 
+| τιμωρέειν ἐμοί, οὗτος μὲν ἀνοσίῳ μόρῳ τετελεύτηκε | 
+ὑπὸ τῶν ἑωυτοῦ οἰκηιοτάτων' τούτου δὲ μηκέτι 
+ἐόντος, δεύτερα τῶν λοιπῶν ὑμῖν ὦ Πέρσαι γίνεταί 
+μοι ἀναγκαιότατον ἐντέλλεσθαι τὰ θέλω μοι γενέ- 
+σθαι τελευτῶν τὸν βίον: καὶ δὴ ὑμῖν τάδε ἐπισκή- 
+πτω θεοὺς τοὺς βασιληίους ἐπικαλέων καὶ πᾶσι 
+ὑμῖν καὶ μάλιστα ᾿Αχαιμενιδέων τοῖσι. παρεοῦσι, 
+μὴ περιιδεῖν τὴν ἡγεμονίην αὖτις ἐς Μήδους 
+περιελθοῦσαν, ἀλλ᾽ εἴτε δόλῳ ἔ ἔχουσι αὐτὴν κτη- 
+σάμενοι, δόλῳ ἀπαιρεθῆναι ὑπὸ ὑμέων, eire καὶ 
+σθένεϊ τεῷ κατεργασάμενοι, σθένεϊ. κατὰ τὸ καρ- 
+τερὸν ἀνασώσασθαι. καὶ ταῦτα μὲν ποιεῦσι ὑμῖν 
+γῆ τε καρπὸν ἐκφέροι καὶ γυναῖκές τε καὶ ποῖμναι 
+τίκτοιεν, ἐοῦσι ἐς τὸν ἅπαντα χρόνον ἐλευθέροισι" 
+μὴ δὲ ἀνασωσαμένοισι τὴν ἀρχὴν μηδ ἐπιχειρή- 
+cac, ἀνασώζειν τὰ ἐναντία τούτοισι ἀρῶμαι 
+ὑμῖν γενέσθαι, καὶ πρὸς ἔτι τούτοισι τὸ τέλος 
+
+
+94 
+
+
+BOOK III. ός 
+
+
+see) no human power can turn fate aside ; fool that 
+I was! I sent Prexaspes to Susa to slay Smerdis. 
+When that great wrong was done I lived without 
+fear, for never did I think that when Smerdis was 
+taken out of my way another man might rise against 
+me. So did I wholly mistake what was to be; I 
+have slain my brother for no cause, and lost my 
+kingship none the less; for the rebel foretold by 
+heaven in the vision was Smerdis the Magian. Now 
+I have done the deed, and | would have you believe 
+that Smerdis Cyrus’ son no longer lives; you see 
+the Magians masters of my royal estate, even him 
+that I left steward of my house, and his brother 
+Smerdis. So then he that especially should have 
+avenged the dishonour done me by the Magian lies 
+foully slain by his nearest kinsman ; and he being 
+no longer in life, necessity constrains me, in his 
+default, to charge you, men of Persia, with the 
+last desire of my life. In the name of the gods of 
+my royal house I charge all of you, but chiefly those 
+Achaemenids that are here, not to suffer the 
+sovereignty to fall again into Median hands ; if they 
+have won it by trickery, trick them of it again; if 
+they have wrested it away by force, then do you by 
+force and strength of hand recover it. And if you 
+so do, may your land bring forth her fruits, and your 
+women and your flocks and herds be blessed with 
+offspring; but if you win not back the kingdom 
+nor essay so to do, then I pray that all may go 
+
+
+85 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Περσέων ἑ ἑκάστῳ: ἐπιγενέσθαι olov ἐμοὶ é ἐπιγέγονε. E 
+ἅμα τε εἴπας ταῦτα ὁ Καμβύσης ἀπέκλαιε πᾶσαν 
+τὴν ἑωυτοῦ πρῆξιν. 
+
+66. Πέρσαι δὲ ὡς τὸν βασιλέα εἶδον ἀνακλαύ- 
+σαντα πάντες τά τε ἐσθῆτος ἐ ἐχόμενα εἶχον, ταῦτα 
+κατηρείκοντο καὶ οἰμωγῇ ἀφθόνῳ , διεχρέωντο. 
+μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα ὡς ἐσφακέλισέ τε τὸ ὀστέον καὶ 
+ὁ μηρὸς τάχιστα ἐσάπη, ἀπήνεικε Καμβύσεα τὸν 
+Κύρου, βασιλεύσαντα μὲν τὰ πάντα ἑπτὰ ἔτεα 
+καὶ πέντε μῆνας, ἄπαιδα δὲ τὸ παράπαν ἐόντα 
+ἔρσενος καὶ θήλεος γόνου. Περσέων δὲ τοῖσι 
+παρεοῦσι ἀπιστίη πολλὴ ὑπεκέχυτο τοὺς Μάγους 
+ἔχειν τὰ πρήγματα, ἀλλ᾽ ἠπιστέατο ἐπὶ διαβολῇ 
+εἰπεῖν. Καμβύσεα τὰ εἶπε περὶ τοῦ Σμέρδιος 
+θανάτου, ἵνα οἱ ἐκπολεμωθῇ πᾶν τὸ Περσικόν. 
+οὗτοι μέν νυν ἠπιστέατο Σμέρδιν. τὸν Κύρου 
+βασιλέα ἐνεστεῶτα" δεινῶς γὰρ καὶ ὁ Πρηξάσπης 
+ἔξαρνος ἡ ἣν μὴ μὲν ἀποκτεῖναι Σμέρδιν" οὐ γὰρ ἣν 
+οἱ ἀσφαλὲς Καμβύσεω τετελευτηκότος φάναι τὸν 
+Κύρου υἱὸν ἀπολωλεκέναι αὐτοχειρίῃ. 
+
+67. Ὁ δὲ δὴ Μάγος τελευτήσαντος Καμβύσεω 
+ἀδεῶς ἐβασίλευσε, ἐπιβατεύων τοῦ ὁμωνύμου 
+Σμέρδιος τοῦ Κύρου, μῆνας ἑπτὰ τοὺς ἐπιλοίπους 
+Καμβύσῃ ἐς τὰ ὀκτὼ ἔτεα τῆς πληρώσιος" ἐν 
+τοῖσι ἀπεδέξατο ἐ ἐς τοὺς ὑπηκόους πάντας εὐεργε- 
+σίας μεγάλας, ὥστε ἀποθανόντος αὐτοῦ πόθον 
+ἔχειν πάντας τοὺς ἐν τῇ ᾿Ασίῃ͵ πάρεξ αὐτῶν 
+Περσέων. διαπέμψας γὰρ ὁ Μάγος ἐς πᾶν ἔθνος 
+τῶν ἦρχε προεῖπε ἀτελείην εἶναι στρατηίης καὶ 
+φόρου ἐπ᾿ ἔτεα τρία. 
+
+$8. Προεῖπε μὲν δὴ ταῦτα αὐτίκα ἐνιστάμενος 
+ἐς τὴν ἀρχήν, ὀγδόῳ δὲ μηνὶ ἐγένετο κατάδηλος 
+
+
+86 
+
+
+BOOK III. 65-68 
+
+
+contrariwise for you, yea, that every Persian may 
+meet an end such as mine." With that Cambyses 
+wept bitterly for all that had befallen him. 
+
+66. When the Persians saw their king weep, they 
+all rent the garments which they wore and lamented 
+loud and long. But after this the bone became gan- 
+grened and the thigh rotted; which took off 
+Cambyses son of Cyrus, who had reigned in all seven 
+years and five months, and left no issue at all, male 
+or female. The Persians present fully disbelieved 
+in their hearts that the Magians were masters of the 
+kingdom ; they supposed that Cambyses' intent was 
+to deceive them with his tale of Smerdis’ death, 
+that so all Persia might be plunged into war. So 
+they believed that it was Cyrus’ son Smerdis who 
+had been made king. For Prexaspes stoutly denied 
+that he had killed Smerdis, since now that. Cambyses 
+was dead, it was not safe for him to say that he had 
+slain the son of Cyrus with his own hands. 
+
+67. Cambyses being dead, the Magian, pretending 
+to be the Smerdis of like name, Cyrus' son, reigned 
+without fear for the seven months lacking to Cam- 
+byses' full eight years of kingship. In this time he 
+greatly benefited all his subjects, in so much that after 
+his death all the Asiatics except the Persians wished 
+him back; for he sent hither and thither to every 
+nation of his dominions and proclaimed them for three 
+years freed from service in arms and from tribute. 
+
+68. Such was his proclamation at the beginning of 
+his reign; but jn the eighth month it was revealed who 
+
+87 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τρόπῳ τοιῷδε. Ὀτάνης ἡ ἦν Φαρνάσπεω μὲν ταῖς, 
+γένεϊ δὲ καὶ χρήμασι. ὅμοιος τῷ πρώτῳ Περσέων. 
+οὗτος ὁ Ὀτάνης πρῶτος ὑπώπτευσε τὸν Mayor 
+ὡς οὐκ εἴη ὁ Κύρου Σμέρδις ἀλλ᾽ bs περ ἣν, τῇδε 
+συμβαλόμενος, ὃ ὅτι τε οὐκ ἐξεφοίτα ἐκ τῆς aK po- 
+πόλιος καὶ ὅτι οὐκ ἐκάλεε ἐς ὄψιν ἑωυτῷ οὐδένα 
+τῶν λογίμων Περσέων: ὑποπτεύσας δέ μιν ἐποίεε 
+τάδε. ἔσχε αὐτοῦ Καμβύσης θυγατέρα, τῇ οὔνομα 
+ἦν Φαιδύμη' τὴν αὐτὴν δὴ ταύτην εἶχε τότε ὁ 
+Μάγος καὶ ταύτῃ τε συνοίκεε καὶ τῇσι. ἄλλησι 
+πάσῃσι τῇσι τοῦ Καμβύσεω γυναιξί. πέμπων δὴ 
+ὧν ὁ Ὀτάνης, παρὰ ταύτην τὴν θυγατέρα ἐπυν- 
+θάνετο παρ ὅτε ἀνθρώπων κοιμῷτο, εἴτε μετὰ 
+Σμέρδιος τοῦ Κύρου εἶτε μετὰ ἄλλου τευ. ἢ δέ 
+οἱ ἀντέπεμπε φαμένη ov γινώσκειν' οὔτε yàp. τὸν 
+Κύρου Σμέρδιν ἰδέσθαι οὐδαμὰ οὔτε ὅστις εἴη ὁ 
+συνοικέων αὐτῇ εἰδέναι. ἔπεμπε δεύτερα ὁ 0 Ὀτάνης 
+λέγων “E μὴ αὐτὴ Σμέρδιν τὸν Κύρου γινώσκεις, 
+σὺ δὲ παρὰ ᾿Ατόσσης, πύθευ ὅ ὅτεῳ τούτῳ συνοικέει 
+aÙTh τε ἐκείνη καὶ σύ" πάντως γὰρ δή κου τὸν γε 
+ἑωυτῆς ἀδελφεὸν γινώσκει.” 
+
+69. ᾿Αντιπέμπει πρὸς ταῦτα ἡ θυγάτηρ “Οὔτε 
+᾿Ατόσσῃ δύναμαι ἐς λόγους ἐλθεῖν οὔτε ἄλλην 
+οὐδεμίαν ἰδέσθαι τῶν συγκατηµενέων γυναικῶν. 
+ἐπείτε γὰρ τάχιστα οὗτος ὥνθρωπος, ὅ ὅστις κοτὲ 
+ἐστί, παρέλαβε τὴν βασιληίην, διέσπειρε ἡμέας 
+ἄλλην ἄλλη τάξας.” ἀκούοντι δὲ ταῦτα τῷ 
+Ὀτάνῃ μᾶλλον κατεφαίνετο τὸ πρῆγμα. τρίτην 
+δὲ ἀγγελίην ἐ ἐσπέμπει παρ᾽ αὐτὴν λέγουσαν ταῦτα. 
+eQ θύγατερ, δεῖ σε γεγονυῖαν εὖ κίνδυνον ἀναλα- 
+βέσθαι τὸν ἂν ὁ ὁ πατὴρ ὑποδύνειν κελεύῃ. εἰ γὰρ 
+δὴ μή ἐστι ὁ Κύρου Σμέρδις ἀλλὰ τὸν καταδοκέω 
+
+
+88 
+
+
+BOOK III. 68-69 
+
+
+he was, and this is how it was done :—There was one 
+Otanes, son of Pharnaspes, as well-born and rich a 
+man as any Persian. This Otanes was the first to 
+suspect that the Magian was not Cyrus' son Smerdis 
+but his true self; the reason was, that he never left 
+the citadel nor summoned any notable Persian into 
+his presence ; and in his suspicion—Cambyses having 
+married Otanes’ daughter Phaedyme, whom the 
+Magian had now wedded, with all the rest of Cam- 
+byses' wives—Otanes sent to this daughter, asking 
+with whom she lay, Smerdis, Cyrus' son, or another. 
+She sent back a message that she did not know ; for 
+(said she) she had never seen Cyrus' son Smerdis, nor 
+knew who was her bedfellow. Then Otanes sent a 
+second message, to this effect: **If you do not your- 
+self know Cyrus’ son Smerdis, then ask Atossa who 
+is this that is her lord and yours ; for surely she knows 
+her own brother." - 
+
+69. To this his daughter replied: “I cannot 
+get speech with Atossa, nor can I see any other 
+of the women of the household ; for no sooner had 
+this man, whoever he is, made himself king, than 
+he sent us to live apart, each in her appointed 
+place." When Otanes heard that, he saw more clearly 
+how the matter stood; and he sent her this third 
+message: “ Daughter, it is due to your noble birth 
+that you should run any risk that your father bids you 
+face. If this man be not Smerdis son of Cyrus, but 
+
+
+89 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐγώ, οὔτοι μιν σοί τε συγκοιμώμενον καὶ τὸ 
+Περσέων κράτος ἔχοντα δεῖ χαίροντα ἀπαλλάσ- 
+σειν, ἀλλὰ δοῦναι δίκην. viv ὧν ποίησον τάδε" 
+ἐπεὰν σοὶ συνεύδῃ καὶ μάθῃς | αὐτὸν κατυπνωμένον, 
+ἄφασον αὐτοῦ τὰ ὦτα" καὶ ἡ qv μὲν φαίνηται € έχων 
+ὦτα, νόμιξε σεωυτὴν Σμέρδι τῷ Κύρου συνοικέειν, 
+ἣν δὲ μὴ ἔχων, σὺ δὲ τῷ Μάγῳ uibs" ἀντι- 
+πέμπει πρὸς ταῦτα ἡ Φαιδύμη φαμένη κινδυνεύσειν 
+μεγάλως, ἦν ποιέῃ ταῦτα" εἰ γὰρ δὴ μὴ τυγχάνει 
+τὰ ὦτα ἔχων, ἐπίλαμπτος δὲ ἀφάσσουσα ἔσται, 
+εὖ εἰδέναι ὡς ἀιστώσει pav: ὅμως μέντοι ποιήσειν 
+ταῦτα. ἣ μὲν δὴ ὑπεδέξατο ταῦτα τῷ πατρὶ 
+κατεργάσεσθαι. τοῦ δὲ Μάγου τούτου τοῦ Σμέρ- 
+διος Κῦρος ὁ Καμβύσεω ἄρχων τὰ ὦτα ἀπέταμε 
+em αἰτίῃ δή τινι οὐ σμικρῆ. 5 ὧν δὴ Φαιδύμη 
+αὕτη, ἡ τοῦ Ὀτάνεω θυγάτηρ, πάντα ἐπιτελέουσα 
+τὰ ueni aro τῷ πατρί, ἐπείτε αὐτῆς µέρος ἐγίνετο 
+τῆς ἀπίξιος παρὰ τὸν Μάγον (ἐν περιτροπῇ γὰρ 
+δὴ αἱ γυναῖκες φοιτέουσι τοῖσι Πέρσησι), ἐλθοῦσα 
+Tap αὐτὸν ηὖδε, «ὑπνωμένου δὲ καρτερῶς τοῦ 
+Μάγου ἤφασε τὰ ὦ ὦτα. μαθοῦσα δὲ οὐ χαλεπῶς 
+ἀλλ᾽ εὐπετέως οὐκ ἔχοντα τὸν ἄνδρα ὦτα, ὡς 
+ἡμέρη τάχιστα ἐγεγόνεε, πέμψασα ἐσήμηνε τῷ 
+πατρὶ τὰ γενόμενα. 
+
+10. Ὁ δὲ Ὀτάνης παραλαβὼν ᾿Ασπαθίνην καὶ 
+Γοβρύην, Περσέων τε πρώτους ἐόντας καὶ ἑ ἑωυτῷ 
+ἐπιτηδεοτάτους ἐς πίστιν, .ἀπηγήσατο πᾶν τὸ 
+πρῆγμα: οἳ δὲ καὶ αὐτοὶ ἄρα ὑπώπτευον οὕτω 
+τοῦτο ἔχειν, ἀνενείκαντος δὲ τοῦ Ὀτάνεω τοὺς 
+λόγους ἐδέξαντο, καὶ ἔδοξέ σφι ἕκαστον ἄνδρα 
+Περσέων προσεταιρίσασθαι τοῦτον ὅτεῳ πιστεύει 
+μάλιστα. Ὀτάνης μέν νυν ἐσάγεται ᾿Ινταφρένεα, 
+
+
+9o 
+
+
+BOOK III. 69-70 
+
+
+another whom I think him to be, then he must not go 
+unscathed, but be punished for sharing your bed and 
+sitting on the throne of Persia. Now, therefore, when 
+he lies with you and you see that he is asleep, do as 
+I bid you and uncover his ears; if you see that he 
+has ears, then you may think that it is Smerdis son 
+of Cyrus who is your lord; but if he has none, it is 
+Smerdis the Magian." Phaedyme answered by mes- 
+senger that she would run very great risk by so doing ; 
+for if it should turn out that he had no ears, and she 
+were caught uncovering him, he would surely make 
+an end of her; nevertheless she would doit. So she 
+promised to achieve her father's bidding. It is known 
+that Cyrus son of Cambyses had in his reign cut off 
+the ears of this Magian, Smerdis, for some grave 
+reason—I know not what. So Phaedyme, daughter 
+of Otanes, performed her promise to her father. 
+When it was her turn to visit the Magian (as a 
+Persian's wives come in regular order to their lord), 
+she came to his bed, and uncovered the Magian's ears 
+while he slumbered deeply; and having with much 
+ease assured herself that he had no ears, she sent and 
+told this to her father as soon as it was morning. 
+
+70. Otanes then took to himself two Persians of 
+the highest rank whom he thought worthiest of trust, 
+Aspathines and Gobryas, and told them the whole 
+story. These, it would seem, had themselves sus- 
+pected that it wasso; and now they readily believed 
+what Otanes revealed to them. They resolved that 
+each should take into their fellowship that Persian 
+whom he most trusted ; Otanes brought in Inta- 
+
+
+OI 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Γοβρύης δὲ Μεγάβυζον, ᾿Ασπαθίνης δὲ Ὑδάρνεα. 
+γεγονότων δὲ τούτων ἓξ παραγίνεται ἐς τὰ Σοῦσα 
+Δαρεῖος ὁ Ὑστάσπεος ἐκ Περσέων ἥκων" τούτων 
+γὰρ δὴ ἦν οἱ ὁ πατὴρ ὕπαρχος. ἐπεὶ ὧν οὗτος 
+ἀπίκετο, τοῖσι ἓξ τῶν Περσέων ἔδοξε καὶ Δαρεῖον 
+προσεταιρίσασθαι. 
+
+71. Συνελθόντες δὲ οὗτοι ἐόντες ἑπτὰ ἐδίδοσαν 
+σφίσι πίστις καὶ λόγους. ἐπείτε δὲ ἐς Δαρεῖον 
+- ἀπίκετο γνώμην ἀποφαίνεσθαι, ἔλεγέ σφι τάδε. 
+«᾿Εγὼ ταῦτα ἐδόκεον μὲν αὐτὸς μοῦνος ἐπίστασθαι, 
+ὅτι τε ὁ Μάγος εἴη ὁ βασιλεύων καὶ Σμέρδις ὁ 
+Κύρου τετελεύτηκε" καὶ αὐτοῦ τούτου εἵνεκεν ἥκω 
+σπουδῇ ὡς συστήσων ἐπὶ τῷ Μάγῳ θάνατον. 
+ἐπείτε δὲ συνήνεικε ὥστε καὶ ὑμέας εἰδέναι καὶ 
+μὴ μοῦνον ἐμέ, ποιέειν αὐτίκα μοι δοκέει καὶ μὴ 
+ὑπερβάλλεσθαι: οὐ γὰρ ἄμεινον." εἶπε πρὸς ταῦτα 
+ὁ Ὀτάνης “Ὦ παῖ Ὑστάσπεος, εἷς τε πατρὸς 
+ἀγαθοῦ καὶ ἐκφαίνειν ἔοικας σεωυτὸν ἐόντα τοῦ 
+πατρὸς οὐδὲν ἥσσω: τὴν μέντοι ἐπιχείρησιν ταύ- 
+την μὴ οὕτω συντάχυνε ἀβούλως, ἀλλ, ἐπὶ το 
+σωφρονέστερον αὐτὴν λάμβανε δεῖ γὰρ πλεῦνας 
+γενομένους οὕτω ἐπιχειρέειν." λέγει πρὸς ταῦτα 
+Δαρεῖος “"Ανδρες οἱ παρεόντες, τρόπῳ τῷ εἰρημένῳ 
+ἐξ Ὀτάνεω εἰ χρήσεσθε, ἐπίστασθε ὅτι ἀπολέεσθε 
+κάκιστα' ἐξοίσει γάρ τις πρὸς τὸν Μάγον, ἰδίῃ 
+περιβαλλόμενος ἑωυτῷ κέρδεα. μάλιστα μέν νυν 
+ὠφείλετε ἐπ᾽ ὑμέων αὐτῶν βαλλόμενοι ποιέειν 
+ταῦτα’ ἐπείτε δὲ ὑμῖν ἀναφέρειν ἐς πλεῦνας ἐδόκεε 
+καὶ ἐμοὶ ὑπερέθεσθε, ἢ ποιέωμεν σήμερον ἢ ἴστε 
+ὑμῖν ὅτι ἣν ὑπερπέσῃ ἡ νῦν ἡμέρη, ὡς οὐκ ἄλλος 
+φθὰς ἐμεῦ κατήγορος ἔσται, ἀλλά σφεα αὐτὸς ἐγὼ Ἢ 
+κατερέω πρὸς τὸν Μάγον.” 
+
+
+02 
+
+
+BOOK III. 70-71 
+
+
+phrenes, Gobryas brought Megabyzus and Aspathines 
+Hydarnes!; so they were six. Now came to Susa 
+Darius son of Hystaspes, from Persia, of which his 
+father was vice-gerent ; and on his coming the six 
+Persians resolved to make Darius too their comrade. 
+
+71. The seven then met and gave each other 
+pledges and spoke together ; and when it was Darius' 
+turn to declare his mind, he spoke as follows: “1 
+supposed that I alone knew that it was the Magian 
+who is king and that Smerdis son of Cyrus is dead ; 
+and it is for this cause that I have made haste to 
+come, that 1 might compass the Magian's death; but 
+since it has so fallen out that you too and not I alone 
+know the truth, my counsel is for action forthwith, no 
+delay ; for evil will come of delay." ‘Son of Hystas- 
+pes," Otanes answered, * your father is a valiant man, 
+and methinks you declare yourself as valiant as he ; 
+yet hasten not this enterprise thus inconsiderately ; 
+take the matter more prudently; we must wait to 
+set about it till there are more of us." Το this Darius 
+answered: “Sirs, if you do as Otanes counsels, I tell 
+you that you will perish miserably ; for someone will 
+carry all to the Magian, desiring private reward for 
+himself. Now, it had been best for you to achieve 
+your end yourselves unaided ; but seeing that it was 
+your pleasure to impart your plot to others and that 
+so you have trusted me with it, let us, I say, do the 
+deed this day ; if we let to-day pass, be assured that 
+none will accuse you ere I do, for I will myself lay 
+the whole matter before the Magian." 
+
+
+1 The names in the Behistun inscription (the trilingual 
+inscription set up by Darius at Behistun, after he had 
+crushed the revolts in his empire) are: Vindapana, Utana, 
+Gaubaruwa, Vidarna, Bagabukhsa, Ardumanis; all but the 
+last corresponding with Herodotus' list. 
+
+
+93 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+72. Λέγει πρὸς ταῦτα Ὀτάνης, ἐπειδὴ apa 
+σπερχόμενον Δαρεῖον, “ Ἐπείτε ἡ ἡμέας ᾿συνταχύνειν 
+ἀναγκάξεις καὶ ὑπερβάλλεσθαι οὐκ ἐᾷς, ἴθι, ἐξηγέο 
+αὐτὸς ὅτεῳ τρόπῳ πάριμεν ἐς τὰ βασιλήια καὶ 
+ἐπιχειρήσομεν αὐτοῖσι. φυλακὰς γὰρ δὴ διεστε- 
+ώσας οἶδάς κου καὶ αὐτός, εἰ μὴ ἰδών, ἀλλ᾽ 
+ἀκούσας" τὰς τέῳ τρόπῳ περήσομεν; á ἀμείβεται 
+Δαρεῖος τοῖσιδε. “ Ὀτάνη, ἢ ἡ πολλά ἐστι τὰ λόγῳ 
+μὲν οὐκ οἷά τε δηλῶσαι, ἔργῳ δέ’ ἄλλα δ᾽ ἐστὶ 
+τὰ λόγῳ μὲν οἷά τε, ἔργον δὲ οὐδὲν ἀπ᾽ αὐτῶν 
+λαμπρὸν. γίνεται. ὑμεῖς δὲ ἴστε φυλακὰς τὰς 
+κατεστεώσας ἐούσας οὐδὲν χαλεπὰς παρελθεῖν. 
+τοῦτο μὲν γὰρ ἡμέων ἐόντων τοιῶνδε οὐδεὶς ő ὅστις 
+οὐ παρήσει, τὰ μέν κου -καταιδεόμενος ἡμέας, τὰ 
+δέ κου καὶ δειμαίνων' τοῦτο δὲ é ἔχω αὐτὸς σκῆψιν 
+εὐπρεπεστάτην τῇ πάριμεν, φὰς ἄρτι τε ἥκειν ἐκ 
+Περσέων καὶ βούλεσθαί τι ἔπος παρὰ τοῦ πατρὸς 
+σημῆναι τῷ βασιλέι. ἔνθα γάρ τι δεῖ ψεῦδος 
+λέγεσθαι, λεγέσθω. τοῦ γὰρ αὐτοῦ γλιχόμεθα οὗ 
+τε ψευδόμενοι καὶ οἱ τῇ ἀληθείῃ διαχρεώμενοι. 
+οἳ μέν γε ψεύδονται τότε ἐπεάν τι μέλλωσι τοῖσι 
+
+εύδεσι πείσαντες κερδήσεσθαι, οἳ δ᾽ ἀληθίξονται 
+ἵνα τῇ ἀληθείῃ. ἐπισπάσωνται κέρδος καί τι μᾶλ- 
+λόν σφι ἐπιτράπηται. οὕτω οὐ ταὐτὰ ἀσκέοντες 
+τὠυτοῦ περιεχόμεθα. εἰ δὲ μηδὲν κερδήσεσθαι 
+μέλλοιεν, ὁμοίως ἂν ὅ τε ἀληθιζόμενος ψευδὴς εἴη 
+καὶ ὁ γευδόμενος ἀληθής. ὃς ἂν μέν νυν τῶν 
+πυλουρῶν ἑκὼν παριῇ, αὐτῷ οἱ ἄμεινον ἐς χρόνον' 
+ἔσται" ὃς δ᾽ ἂν ἀντιβαίνειν πειρᾶται, δεικνύσθω 
+ἐνθαῦτα ἐὼν πολέμιος, καὶ ἔπειτα ὠσάμενοι ἔσω 
+ἔργου ἐχώμεθα." 
+
+73. Λέγει Γοβρύης μετὰ ταῦτα '' Άνδρες φίλοι, 
+
+
+94 
+
+
+BOOK III. 72-73 
+
+
+72. To this Otanes replied, seeing Darius' vehe 
+mence, “Since you compel us to hasten and will brook 
+no delay, tell us now yourself how we shall pass into 
+the palace and assail the Magians. The place is 
+beset all round by guards; this you know, for you 
+have seen or heard of them ; how shall we win past 
+the guards?"  *Otanes," answered Darius, “very 
+many things can be done whereof the doing cannot 
+be described in words; and sometimes a plan easy to 
+make clear is yet followed by no deed of note. 
+Right well you know that the guards who are set are 
+easy to pass. For we being such as we are, there is 
+none who will not grant us admittance, partly from 
+reverence and partly too from fear; and further, I 
+have myself the fairest pretext for entering, for I will 
+say that I am lately come from Persia and have a 
+message for the king from my father. Let lies be 
+told where they are needful. All of us aim at the 
+like end, whether we lie or speak truth; he that lies 
+does it to win credence and so advantage by his 
+deceit, and he that speaks truth hopes that truth 
+will get him profit and greater trust; so we do but 
+take different ways to the same goal, Were 
+the hope of advantage taken away, the truth- 
+teller were as ready to lie as the liar to speak truth. 
+Now ifany warder of the gate willingly suffer us to 
+pass, it will be the better for him thereafter. But if 
+any strives to withstand us let us mark him for an 
+enemy, and so thrust ourselves in and begin our 
+work. 
+
+73. Then said Gobryas, “ Friends, when shall we 
+
+
+95 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἡμῖν κότε͵ κάλλιον παρέξει ἀνασώσασθαι τὴν 
+ἀρχήν, ἢ εἴ γε μὴ οἷοί τε ἐσόμεθα αὐτὴν άναλα- 
+Beiv, ἀποθανεῖν; ὅτε γε ἀρχόμεθα μὲν ἐόντες 
+Πέρσαι. ὑπὸ Μήδου ἀνδρὸς Μάγου, καὶ τούτου 
+ὦτα. οὐκ ἔχοντος. ὅσοι τε ὑμέων Καμβύσῃ 
+νοσέοντι παρεγένοντο, πάντως κου μέμνησθε τὰ 
+ἐπέσκηψε Πέρσῃσι τελευτῶν τὸν Biov μὴ πειρω- 
+μένοισι ἀνακτᾶσθαι τὴν ἀρχήν' τὰ τότε οὐκ 
+ἐνεδεκόμεθα, ἀλλ᾽ ἐπὶ διαβολῇ ἐδοκέομεν εἰπεῖν 
+Καμβύσεα. νῦν ὧν τίθεμαι ψῆφον πείθεσθαι 
+Δαρείῳ καὶ μὴ διαλύεσθαι ἐκ τοῦ συλλόγου τοῦδε 
+ἀλλ᾽ ἢ ἐπὶ τὸν Μάγον ἰθέως." ταῦτα εἶπε Γο- 
+βρύης, καὶ πάντες ταύτῃ. aiveov. 
+
+74, Ἐν ᾧ δὲ οὗτοι ταῦτα ἐβουλεύοντο, ἐγίνετο 
+κατὰ συντυχίην τάδε. τοῖσι Μάγοισι ἔδοξε Bov- 
+λευομένοισι Πρηξάσπεα, φίλον. προσθέσθαι, ὃ ὅτι τε 
+ἐπεπόνθεε πρὸς Καμβύσεω ἀνάρσια, ὅς οἱ τὸν 
+παῖδα τοξεύσας ἀπολωλέκεε, καὶ διότι μοῦνος 
+ἠπίστατο τὸν Σμέρδιος τοῦ Κύρου θάνατον aŭto- 
+χειρίῃ μιν ἀπολέσας, πρὸς Ò ἔτι ἐόντα ἐν αἴνῃ 
+μεγίστῃ τὸν Πρηξάσπεα ἐν Πέρσῃσι. τούτων δή 
+μιν εἵνεκεν καλέσαντες φίλον προσεκτῶντο πίστι 
+τε λαβόντες καὶ ὁρκίοισι, ἡ μὲν ἕξειν παρ᾽ ἑωυτῷ 
+μηδ᾽ ἐξοίσειν μηδενὶ ἀνθρώπων͵ τὴν ἀπὸ σφέων 
+ἀπάτην ἐς Πέρσας γεγονυῖαν, ὑπισχνεύμενοι τὰ 
+πάντα οἱ μυρία δώσειν. ὑποσχομένου δὲ τοῦ 
+Πρηξάσπεος ποιήσειν ταῦτα, ὡς ἀνέπεισάν μιν 
+οἱ Μάγοι, δεύτερα προσέφερον, αὐτοὶ μὲν φάμενοι 
+Πέρσας πάντας συγκαλέειν ὑπὸ τὸ 'Βασιλήιον 
+τεῖχος, κεῖνον δ᾽ ἐκέλευον ἀναβάντα ἐπὶ πύργον 
+ἀγορεῦσαι ὡς ὑπὸ τοῦ Κύρου Σμέρδιος ἄρχονται 
+καὶ ὑπ᾽ οὐδενὸς ἄλλου. ταῦτα δὲ οὕτω ἐνετέλ- 
+
+
+96 
+
+
+| 
+
+
+BOOK Ill. 73-74 
+
+
+have a better occasion to win back the kingship, or, 
+if we cannot so do, to die? seeing that we who are 
+Persians are ruled by a Mede, a Magian, a man that 
+has no ears. Those of you that were with Cambyses 
+in his sickness cannot, but remember the curse 
+which with his last breath he laid on the Persians. 
+if they should not essay to win back the kingship; 
+albeit we did not then believe Cambyses, but 
+thought that he spoke to deceive us. Now there- 
+fore my vote is that we follow Darius' plan, and not 
+quit this council to do aught else but attack the 
+Magian forthwith.” So spoke Gobryas; and they 
+all consented to what he said. 
+
+74, While they were thus planning, matters befell 
+as I will show. The Magians had taken counsel and 
+resolved to make a friend of Prexaspes, because he 
+had been wronged by Cambyses (who had shot his 
+son to death) and because he alone knew of the 
+death of Cyrus' son Smerdis, having himself been 
+the slayer; and further, because Prexaspes was very 
+greatly esteemed by the Persians. Therefore they 
+summoned him and, to gain his friendship, made 
+him to pledge himself and swear that he would 
+never reveal to any man their treacherous dealing 
+with the Persians, but keep it to himself; and they 
+promised to give him all things in great abundance. 
+Prexaspes was persuaded and promised to do their 
+will. Then the Magians made this second proposal 
+to him, that they should summon a meeting of all 
+Persians before the palace wall, and he should go up 
+on to a tower and declare that it was Smerdis son of 
+Cyrus and no other who was king of Persia. They 
+gave him this charge, because they thought him to 
+
+
+97 
+VOL. IL. 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+λοντο ὡς πιστοτάτου δῆθεν ἐόντος αὐτοῦ ἐν Πέρ- 
+oou, καὶ πολλάκις ἀποδεξαμένου γνώμην ὡς 
+περιείη ὁ Κύρου Σμέρδις, καὶ ἐξαρνησαμένου τὸν 
+φόνον αὐτοῦ. 
+
+75. Φαμένου δὲ καὶ ταῦτα ἑτοίμου εἶναι ποιέειν 
+τοῦ Ἡρηξάσπεος, συγκαλέσαντες Πέρσας οἱ Μάγοι 
+ἀνεβίβασαν αὐτὸν ἐπὶ πύργον καὶ ἀγορεύειν ἐκέ- 
+λευον. ὃ δὲ τῶν μὲν ἐκεῖνοι προσεδέοντο αὐτοῦ, 
+τούτων μὲν ἑκὼν ἐπελήθετο, ἀρξάμενος δὲ ἀπ᾿ 
+᾿Αχαιμένεος ἐγενεηλόγησε τὴν πατριὴν τὴν Κύρου, 
+μετὰ δὲ ὡς ἐς τοῦτον κατέβη τελευτῶν ἔλεγε ὅσα 
+ἀγαθὰ Κῦρος Πέρσας πεποιήκοι, διεξελθὼν δὲ 
+ταῦτα ἐξέφαινε τὴν ἀληθείην, φάμενος πρότερον 
+μὲν κρύπτειν (οὐ γάρ οἱ εἶναι ἀσφαλὲς λέγειν τὰ 
+γενόμενα), ἐν δὲ τῷ παρεόντι ἀναγκαίην μιν κατα- 
+λαμβάνειν φαίνειν.. καὶ δὴ ἔλεγε τὸν μὲν Κύρου 
+Σμέρδιν ὡς αὐτὸς ὑπὸ Καμβύσεω ἀναγκαζόμενος 
+ἀποκτείνειε, τοὺς Μάγους δὲ Βασιλεύειν. Πέρσησι 
+δὲ πολλὰ ἐ ἐπαρησάμενος εἰ μὴ ἀνακτησαίατο ὀπίσω 
+τὴν ἀρχὴν καὶ τοὺς Μάγους τισαίατο, ἀπῆκε 
+ἑωυτὸν ἐπὶ κεφαλὴν φέρεσθαι ἀπὸ τοῦ πύργου 
+κάτω. Πρηξάσπης μέν νυν ἐὼν τὸν πάντα χρόνον 
+ἀνὴρ δόκιμος οὕτω ἐτελεύτησε. 
+
+76. Οἱ δὲ δὴ ἑπτὰ τῶν Περσέων ὡς ἐβουλεύ- 
+σαντο αὐτίκα ἐπιχειρέειν τοῖσι Μάγοισι καὶ μὴ 
+ὑπερβάλλεσθαι, ἤισαν εὐξάμενοι τοῖσι θεοῖσι, 
+τῶν περὶ Πρηξάσπεα πρηχθέντων εἰδότες οὐδέν. 
+ἔν τε δὴ τῇ ὁδῷ μέσῃ στείχοντες ἐγίνοντο καὶ τὰ 
+περὶ Πρηξάσπεα γεγονότα ἐπυνθάνοντο, ἐνθαῦτα 
+ἐκστάντες τῆς ὁδοῦ ἐδίδοσαν αὖτις σφίσι λόγους, 
+οἳ μὲν ἀμφὶ τὸν Ὀτάνην πάγχυ κελεύοντες ὑπερ- 
+βαλέσθαι μηδὲ οἰδεόντων τῶν πρηγμάτων ἐπιτί- 
+ο8 
+
+
+BOOK III. 74-76 | 
+
+
+be the man most trusted by the Persians, and 
+because he had oftentimes asserted that Cyrus’ son 
+Smerdis was alive, and had denied the murder. 
+
+75. Prexaspes consented to dq this also; the 
+Magians summoned the Persians together, and 
+brought him up on to a tower and bade him speak. 
+Then, putting away from his mind all the Magians' 
+demands, he traced the lineage of Cyrus from 
+Achaemenes downwards ; when he came at last to 
+the name of Cyrus, he recounted all the good which 
+that king had done to Persia, after which recital 
+he declared the truth ; which, he said, he had till 
+now concealed because he could not safely tell it, 
+but was now constrained by necessity to reveal: 
+“1,” said he, “was compelled by Cambyses to kill 
+Smerdis son of Cyrus; it is the Magians who now 
+rule you." Then, invoking a terrible curse on the 
+Persians if they failed to win back the throne and 
+take vengeance on the Magians, he threw himself 
+headlong down from the tower; thus honourably 
+ended Prexaspes' honourable life. 
+
+76. The seven Persians, after counsel purposing 
+to attack the Magians forthwith and delay no 
+longer, prayed to the gods and set forth, know- 
+ing nothing of Prexaspes' part in the business. But 
+when they had gone half way they heard the story 
+of him; whereat they went aside from the way and 
+consulted together, Otanes' friends being wholly for 
+waiting and not attacking in the present ferment, 
+
+
+99 
+H 2 
+
+
+Jh A $8. ARR 9 m.m numm Dru P" 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+θεσθαι, of δὲ ἀμφὶ τὸν Δαρεῖον αὐτίκα τε ἰέναι 
+καὶ τὰ δεδογμένα ποιέειν μηδὲ ὑπερβάλλεσθαι. 
+ὠθιζομένων © αὐτῶν ἐφάνη ἰρήκων ἑπτὰ ζεύγεα 
+δύο αἰγυπιῶν ζεύγεα διώκοντα καὶ τίλλοντά τε 
+καὶ ἀμύσσοντα. ἰδόντες δὲ ταῦτα οἱ ἑπτὰ τήν τε 
+Δαρείου πάντες αἴνεον γνώμην καὶ ἔπειτα ἤισαν 
+ἐπὶ τὰ Baoa τεθαρσηκότες τοῖσι ὄρνισι. 
+
+77. Ἐπιστᾶσι δὲ ἐπὶ τὰς πύλας ἐγίνετο οἷόν 
+τι Δαρείῳ ἡ γνώμη & epe: καταιδεόμενοι γὰρ 
+οὗ φύλακοι ἄνδρας τοὺς Περσέων πρώτους καὶ 
+οὐδὲν τοιοῦτο ὑποπτεύοντες ἐξ αὐτῶν ἔσεσθαι, 
+παρίεσαν. θείῃ πομπῇ χρεωµένους, οὐδ᾽ «ἐπειρώτα 
+οὐδείς. ἐπείτε δὲ καὶ παρῆλθον ἐς τὴν αὐλήν, 
+ἐνέκυρσαν τοῖσι τὰς ἀγγελίας ἐσφέρουσι εὐνού- 
+χοισι' ot σφεας ἑστόρεον ő τι θέλοντες ἥκοιεν, 
+καὶ ἅμα ἱστορέοντες τούτους τοῖσι πυλου- 
+ροῖσι ἀπείλεον ὅτι σφέας παρῆκαν, ἰσχόν τε 
+ο... τοὺς ἑπτὰ ἐς τὸ πρόσω παριέναι. 
+
+| δὲ διακελευσάµενοι καὶ σπασάμενοι τὰ ἐγ- 
+πα τούτους μὲν τοὺς ἴσχοντας αὐτοῦ ταύτῃ 
+συγκεντέουσι, αὐτοὶ δὲ ἤισαν δρόμῳ ἐς τὸν 
+ἰνδρεῶνα. 
+
+78. Οἱ δὲ Μάγοι ἐ ἔτυχον ἀμφότεροι τηνικαῦτα 
+ἐόντες τε ἔσω καὶ τὰ ἀπὸ Πρηξάσπεος γενόμενα 
+ἐν βουλῇ ἔχοντες. ἐπεὶ ὧν εἶδον τοὺς εὐνούχους 
+τεθορυβημένους τε καὶ βοῶντας, ἀνά τε ἔδραμον 
+πάλιν ἀμφότεροι καὶ ὡς ἔμαθον τὸ ποιεύμενον 
+
+πρὸς ἀλκὴν ἐτράποντο. ὃ μὲν δὴ αὐτῶν φθάνει 
+τὰ τόξα κατελόμενος, ὃ δὲ .πρὸς τὴν αἰχμὴν 
+ἐτράπετο. ἐνθαῦτα δὴ συνέμισγον ἀλλήλοισι. 
+τῷ μὲν δὴ τὰ τόξα ἀναλαβόντι αὐτῶν, ἐόντων 
+τε ἀγχοῦ τῶν πολεμίων καὶ προσκειμένων, ἦν 
+
+
+10Ο 
+
+
+BOOK III. 76-78 
+
+
+but Darius’ party bidding to gc forthwith and do 
+their agreed purpose without delay: - While’ they 
+disputed, they saw seven pairs of hawks that chased 
+and rent and tore two pairs of vultures ; seeing 
+which all the seven consented to Darius" ópinion, 
+and went on to the palace, heartened by the sight 
+of the birds. 
+
+77. When they came to the gate, that happened 
+which Darius had expected; the guards, out’ of 
+
+
+regard for the chief men in Persia, and because they __ 
+
+
+never suspected their design, suffered them without 
+question to pass in under heaven's guidance. Coming 
+into the court, they met there the eunuchs who 
+carry messages to the king; who asked the seven 
+with what intent they had come, at the same time 
+threatening the gate-wards for letting them pass, 
+and barring the further passage of the seven. These 
+gave each other the word, drew their daggers, and 
+stabbing the eunuchs who barred their way, ran 
+into the men's apartment. 
+
+78. It chanced that both the Magians were within, 
+consulting together on the outcome of Prexaspes' 
+act. Seeing the eunuchs in confusion and hearing 
+their cries they both sprang back: and when they 
+saw what was afoot they set about defending them- 
+selves; one made haste to take down his bow, the 
+other seized his spear; so the seven and the two met 
+in fight. He that had caught up the bow found it 
+availed him nothing, his enemies being so close and 
+
+
+IOI 
+
+
+a » 
+
+
+- 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+χρηστὰ οὐδέν»-ὃ δ ax ἕτερος τῇ αἰχμῇ ἠμύνετο καὶ 
+τοῦτό μὲν ᾿Ασπάθίνην παίει ἐς τὸν μηρόν, τοῦτο 
+δὲ ᾿Ινταφρένεα ἐς τὸν ὀφθαλμόν" καὶ ἐστερήθη 
+μὲν τοῦ ὀφθάλμοῦ è ἐκ τοῦ ) τρώµατος ὁ Ἰνταφρένης, 
+οὐ μέντοι.. ἀπέθανέ γε. τῶν μὲν δὴ Μάγων οὕτερος 
+τρῳματΐξει τούτους" ὁ δὲ ἕ ἕτερος, ἐπείτε οἱ τὰ τόξα 
+οὔὐδεν. χρηστὰ ἐγίνετο, ἦν γὰρ δὴ θάλαμος ἐσέχων 
+ἐς; τὸν ἀνδρεῶνα, ἐς τοῦτον καταφεύγει, θέλων 
+αὐτοῦ προσθεῖναι τὰς θύρας, καί οἱ συνεσπί- 
+πτουσι τῶν ἑπτὰ δύο, Δαρεῖός τε καὶ Γοβρύης. 
+δυμπλακέντος δὲ Γοβρύεω. τῷ Μάγῳ ὁ Δαρεῖος 
+ἐπεστεὼς ἠπόρεε οἷα ἐν σκότεϊ, προμηθεόµενος μὴ 
+πλήξῃ τὸν Γοβρύην. .ópéov δέ μιν ἀργὸν eme- 
+στεῶτα ὁ Γοβρύης εἴρετο ὅ τι οὗ ρᾶται τῇ 
+χειρί' ὃ δὲ εἶπε “Προμηθεόµενος σέο, μὴ πλήξω.᾽ 
+Γοβρύης δὲ ἀμείβετο '"Ὥθεε τὸ ξίφος καὶ δι᾽ 
+ἀμφοτέρων." Δαρεῖος δὲ πειθόμενος ὦσέ τε τὸ 
+ἐγχειρίδιον καὶ ἔτυχέ κως τοῦ Μάγου. 
+
+79. ᾿Αποκτείναντες δὲ τοὺς Μάγους καὶ ἀπο- 
+ταμόντες αὐτῶν τὰς κεφαλάς, τοὺς μὲν τρωματίας 
+ἑωυτῶν αὐτοῦ λείπουσι καὶ ἀδυνασίης εἵνεκεν καὶ 
+φυλακῆς τῆς ἀκροπόλιος, οἱ δὲ πέντε αὐτῶν 
+ἔχοντες τῶν Μάγων τὰς κεφαλὰς ἔθεον βοῇ τε 
+καὶ πατάγῳ χρεώμενοι, καὶ Πέρσας τοὺς ἄλλους 
+ἐπεκαλέοντο ἐξηγεόμενοί τε τὸ πρῆγμα καὶ δει- 
+κνύοντες τὰς κεφαλάς, καὶ ἅμα ἔκτεινον πάντα 
+τινὰ τῶν Μάγων τὸν ἐν ποσὶ γινόμενον. οἱ δὲ 
+Πέρσαι μαθόντες τὸ γεγονὸς ἐκ τῶν ἑπτὰ καὶ τῶν 
+Μάγων τὴν ἀπάτην, ἐδικαίευν καὶ αὐτοὶ ἕτερα 
+τοιαῦτα ποιέειν, σπασάμενοι δὲ τὰ ἐγχειρίδια 
+ἔκτεινον ὅκου τινὰ Μάγον εὕρισκον" εἰ δὲ μὴ νὺξ 
+ἐπελθοῦσα ἔσχε, ἔλιπον ἂν οὐδένα Μάγον. ταύ- 
+
+
+102 
+
+
+[ 
+
+
+BOOK III. 78-79 
+
+
+pressing him hard; but the other defended himself 
+with his spear, smiting Aspathines in the thigh and 
+Intaphrenes in the eye; Intaphrenes was not slain 
+by the wound, but lost his eye. So these were 
+wounded by one of the Magians; the other, his bow 
+availing him nothing, fled into a chamber adjoining 
+the men's apartment and would have shut its door. 
+Two of the seven, Darius and Gobryas, hurled them- 
+selves into the chamber with him. Gobryas and the 
+Magian grappling together, Darius stood perplexed 
+by the darkness, fearing to strike Gobryas; whereat 
+Gobryas, seeing Darius stand idle, cried to know why 
+he did not strike; “ For fear of stabbing you," quoth 
+Darius. ‘ Nay," said Gobryas, “thrust with your 
+sword, though it be through both of us.” So Darius 
+thrust with his dagger, and by good luck it was the 
+Magian that he stabbed. 
+
+79. Having killed the Magians and cut off their 
+heads, they left their wounded where they were, by 
+reason of their infirmity and to guard the citadel; 
+the other five took the Magians’ heads and ran with 
+much shouting and noise, calling all Persians to aid, 
+telling what they had done and showing the heads ; 
+at the same time they killed every Magian that came 
+in their way. The Persians, when they heard from the 
+seven what had been done and how the Magians had 
+tricked them, resolved to follow the example set, and 
+drew their daggers and slew all the Magians they 
+could find ; and if nightfall had notstayed them they 
+would not have left one Magian alive. This day is 
+
+103 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+την τὴν ἡμέρην θεραπεύουσι Ἠέρσαι. κοινῇ pá- 
+λιστα τῶν ἡμερέων, καὶ ἐν αὐτῇ ὁρτὴν μεγάλην 
+ἀνάγουσι, ἣ κέκληται ὑπὸ Περσέων μαγοφόνια" 
+ἐν τῇ Μάγον οὐδένα ἔξεστι φανῆναι ἐς τὸ φῶς, 
+ἀλλὰ κατ᾽ οἴκους ἑωυτοὺς οἱ Μάγοι ἔχουσι τὴν 
+ἡμέρην ταύτην. 
+
+80. Ἐπείτε δὲ κατέστη ὁ θόρυβος καὶ ἐκτὸς 
+πέντε ἡμερέων ἐγένετο, ἐβουλεύοντο οἱ ἐπανα- 
+στάντες τοῖσι Μάγοισι περὶ τῶν πάντων πρηγ- 
+μάτων καὶ ἐλέχθησαν λόγοι ἄπιστοι μὲν ἐνίοισι 
+Ἑλλήνων, ἐλέχθησαν δ᾽ ὦν. Ὀτάνης μὲν ἐκέλευε 
+ἐς μέσον Πέρσῃσι. καταθεῖναι τὰ πρήγματα, 
+λέγων τάδε. “'᾿Εμοὶ δοκέει ἕνα μὲν ἡμέων μού- 
+ναρχον μηκέτι γενέσθαι. οὔτε γὰρ ἡδὺ οὔτε 
+ἀγαθόν. εἴδετε μὲν γὰρ τὴν Καμβύσεω ὕβριν ἐ ἐπ᾽ 
+ὅσον ἐπεξῆλθε, µετεσχήκατε, δὲ καὶ τῆς τοῦ 
+Μάγου ὕβριος. κῶς ὃ ἂν εἴη χρῆμα κατηρτη- 
+μένον μουναρχίη, τῇ ἔξεστι ἀνευθύνῳ ποιέειν τὰ 
+βούλεται; καὶ γὰρ ἂν τὸν ἄριστον ἀνδρῶν πάντων 
+στάντα ἐς ταύτην ἐκτὸς τῶν ἑωθότων νοημάτων 
+στήσειε. ἐγγίνεται μὲν γάρ οἱ ὕβρις ὑπὸ τῶν 
+παρεόντων ἀγαθῶν, φθόνος δὲ ἀρχῆθεν ἐμφύεται 
+ἀνθρώπῳ. δύο δ᾽ ἔχων ταῦτα ἔχει πᾶσαν κακό- 
+TNTA’ τὰ μὲν γὰρ ὕβρι κεκορημένος ἔρδει πολλὰ 
+καὶ ἀτάσθαλα, τὰ δὲ ϕ ὀνῳ. καίτοι ἄνδρα ye 
+τύραννον ἄφθονον ἔδει. εἶναι, ἔχοντά γε πάντα τὰ 
+ἀγαθά. τὸ δὲ Ù ὑπεναντίον τούτου ἐς τοὺς πολιήτας 
+πέφυκε' φθονέει γὰρ τοῖσι ἀρίστοισι περιεοῦσί ' τε 
+καὶ ζώουσι, χαίρει δὲ τοῖσι κακίστοισι τῶν ἀστῶν, 
+διαβολὰς δὲ ἄριστος ἐνδέκεσθαι. ἀναρμοστότα- 
+τον δὲ πάντων: ἦν. τε γὰρ αὐτὸν μετρίως θωμάξης, 
+ἄχθεται ὅτι οὐ κάρτα θεραπεύεται, ἤν τε θερα- 
+
+
+104 
+
+
+.BOOK ΤΠ. 79-80 
+
+
+` the greatest holy day that all Persians alike keep; they 
+
+
+t 
+
+
+celebrate a great festival on it, which they call the 
+Massacre of the Magians; while the festival lasts no 
+Magian may come abroad, but during this day they 
+remain in their houses. 
+
+80. When the tumult was abated, and five days 
+had passed, the rebels against the Magians held a 
+council on the whole state of affairs, at which words 
+were uttered which to some Greeks seem incredible ; 
+but there is no doubt that they were spoken. Otanes 
+was for giving the government to the whole body of 
+the Persian people. “I hold,’ he said, “that we 
+must make an end of monarchy ; there is no pleasure 
+or advantage in it. You have seen to what lengths 
+went the insolence of Cambyses, and you have borne 
+your share of the insolence of the Magian. What 
+right order is there to be found in monarchy, when 
+the ruler can do what he will, nor be held to 
+account for it? Give this power to the best man on 
+earth, and his wonted mind must leave him. The 
+advantage which he holds breeds insolence, and 
+nature makes all men jealous. This double cause is 
+the root of all evil in him; he will do many wicked 
+deeds, some from the insolence which is born of 
+satiety, some from jealousy. For whereas an absolute 
+ruler, as having all that heart can desire, should 
+rightly be jealous of no man, yet it is contrariwise 
+with him in his dealing with his countrymen ; he is 
+jealous of the safety of the good, and glad of the 
+safety of the evil; and no man is so ready to believe 
+calumny. Nor is any so hard to please ; accord him 
+but just honour, and he is displeased that you make 
+him not your first care; make him such, and he damns 
+
+
+105 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+πεύῃ τις κάρτα, ἄχθεται ἅτε θωπί. τὰ δὲ δὴ 
+μέγιστα ἔρχομαι ἐρέων: νόμαιά τε, κινέει πάτρια 
+καὶ βιᾶται γυναῖκας κτείνει τε ἀκρίτους. πλῆθος 
+δὲ ἄρχον πρῶτα μὲν οὔνομα πάντων κάλλιστον 
+ἔχει, ἰσονομίην, δεύτερα δὲ τούτων τῶν o .μού- 
+ναρχος ποιέει οὐδέν: πάλῳ μὲν ἀρχὰς ἄρχει, 
+ὑπεύθυνον δὲ ἀρχὴν ἔχει, βουλεύματα δὲ πάντα 
+ἐς τὸ κοινὸν ἀναφέρει. τίθεμαι ὦ ὧν γνώμην μετ- 
+έντας ἡμέας μουναρχίην τὸ πλῆθος ἀέξειν' ἐν 
+s τῷ πολλῴ ἔνι τὰ πάντα.” 
+
+Ὀτάνης μὲν δὴ ταύτην γνώμην ἐσέφερε" 
+Μεγάβυξος δὲ ὀλιγαρχίῃ ἐκέλευε ἐπιτράπειν, 
+λέγων τάδε. “Ta μὲν Ὀτάνης εἶπε τυραννίδα 
+παύων, λελέχθω κἀμοὶ ταῦτα, τὰ δ᾽ ἐς τὸ πλῆθος 
+ἄνωγε φέρειν τὸ κράτος, γνώμης τῆς ἀρίστης 
+ἡμάρτηκε" ὁμίλου γὰρ ἀχρηίου οὐδέν ἐστι A£v- 
+νετώτερον οὐδὲ ὑβριστότερον. καίτοι τυράννου 
+ὕβριν φεύγοντας ἄνδρας ἐς δήμου ἀκολάστου 
+ὕβριν πεσεῖν ἐστὶ οὐδαμῶς ἀνασχετὸν. ὃ μὲν 
+γὰρ εἴ τι ποιέει, γινώσκων ποιέει, τῷ δὲ οὐδὲ 
+
+/ 
+
+γινώσκειν ἔνι" κῶς γὰρ ἂν γινώσκοι ὃς οὔτ᾽ 
+ἐδιδάχθη οὔτε εἶδε καλὸν οὐδὲν οἰκήιον,᾽ 
+ὠθέει τε ἐμπεσὼν τὰ πρήγματα ἄνευ νόου, χει- 
+μάρρῳ ποταμῷ εἴκελος; δήμῳ μέν. νυν, ot Πέρσῃσι 
+κακὸν νοέουσι, οὗτοι χράσθων, ἡ ἡμεῖς δὲ ἀνδρῶν 
+τῶν ἀρίστων ἐπιλέξαντες ὁμιλίην τούτοισι περι- 
+θέωμεν τὸ κράτος" ἐν γὰρ δὴ τούτοισι καὶ αὐτοὶ 
+ἐνεσόμεθα- ἀρίστων δὲ ἀνδρών οἰκὸς ἄριστα βου- 
+λεύματα γίνεσθαι.᾽ 
+
+89. Μεγάβυξος μὲν δὴ ταύτην γνώμην ἐσέφερε' 
+
+1 MSS οὐδὲν οὐδ᾽ οἰκήιον; Stein brackets οὐδ᾽, as giving a 
+sense not here required. I omit it in translation. 
+
+
+106 
+
+
+BOOK III. 80-82 
+
+
+you for a flatterer. But I have yet worse to say 
+of him than thatí he turns the laws of the land 
+upside down, he rapes women, he puts high and low 
+todeath. But the virtue of a multitude's rule lies 
+first in its excellent name, which signifies equality 
+before the law; and secondly, in that its acts are 
+not the acts of the monarch. All offices are assigned 
+by lot, and the holders are accountable for what. 
+they do therein; and the general assembly arbitrates 
+on all counsels. Therefore I declare my opinion, 
+that we make an end of monarchy and increase the 
+power of the multitude, seeing that all good lies in 
+the many." 
+
+δ]. Such was the judgment of Otanes: but Mega- 
+byzus counsel was to make a ruling oligarchy. 
+* I agree," said he, “ to all that Otanes says against 
+the rule of one; but when he bids you give the 
+power to the multitude, his judgment falls short 
+of the best. Nothing is more foolish and violent 
+than a useless mob; to save ourselves from the 
+insolence of a despot by changing it for the insolence 
+of the unbridled commonalty—that were unbearable 
+indeed. Whatever the despot does, he does with 
+knowledge; but the people have not even that; 
+how can they have knowledge, who have neither 
+learnt nor for themselves seen what is best, but 
+ever rush headlong and drive blindly onward, like a 
+river in spate? Let those stand for democracy 
+who wish ill to Persia; but let us choose a company 
+of the best men and invest these with the power. 
+For we ourselves shall be of that company; and 
+where we have the best men, there 'tis like that 
+we shall have the best counsels.” 
+
+82. Such was the judgment of Megabyzus. 
+
+
+107 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τρίτος δὲ Δαρεῖος ἀπεδείκνυτο γνώμην, λέγων 
+«Ἐμοὶ δὲ τὰ μὲν εἶπε Μεγάβυζος è ἐς τὸ πλῆθος 
+ἔχοντα δοκέει ὀρθῶς λέξαι, τὰ δὲ ἐς ὀλιγαρχίην 
+οὐκ ὀρθῶς. τριῶν γὰρ προκειμένων καὶ πάντων 
+τῷ λόγῳ ἀρίστων ἐόντων, δήμου τε ἀρίστου καὶ 
+ὀλιγαρχίης καὶ μουνάρχου, πολλῷ τοῦτο προέχειν 
+λέγω. ἀνδρὸς γὰρ ἑνὸς τοῦ ἀρίστου οὐδὲν ἄμεινον 
+ἂν φανείη" γνώμῃ γὰρ τοιαύτῃ χρεώμενος ἐπιτρο- 
+πεύοι ἂν ἀμωμήτως τοῦ πλήθεος, σιγῷτό τε ἂν 
+βουλεύματα ἐπὶ δυσµενέας ἄνδρας οὕτω μάλιστα. 
+, . 9 / ^ 3 . 9 / , 
+ἐν δὲ ὀλιγαρχίῃ πολλοῖσι ἀρετὴν ἐπασκέουσι ἐς 
+` N L4 ” ? \ / 3 / 
+τὸ κοινὸν ἔχθεα ἴδια ἰσχυρὰ φιλέει ἐγγίνεσθαι. 
+αὐτὸς γὰρ ἕκαστος βουλόμενος κορυφαῖος εἶναι 
+, , ^ 2 y , , 4 
+γνώμῃσί τε νικᾶν ἐς ἔχθεα μεγάλα ἀλλήλοισι 
+ἀπικνέονται, ἐξ ὧν στάσιες ἐγγίνονται, ἐκ δὲ τῶν 
+/ / , s ^ / 2 / 5 
+
+στασίων φόνος: ἐκ δὲ τοῦ φόνου ἀπέβη ἐς pov- 
+ναρχίην, καὶ ἐν τούτῳ διέδεξε ὅσῳ ἐστὶ τοῦτο 
+ἄριστον. δήμου τε αὖ ἄρχοντος ἀδύνατα μὴ οὐ 
+κακότητα ἐγγίνεσθαι: κακότητος τοίνυν ἐγγινο- 
+μένης ἐς τὰ κοινὰ ἔχθεα μὲν οὐκ ἐγγίνεται τοῖσι 
+κακοῖσι, φιλίαι δὲ ἰσχυραΐί' οἱ γὰρ κακοῦντες τὰ 
+κοινὰ συγκύψαντες ποιεῦσι. τοῦτο δὲ τοιοῦτο 
+γίνεται ἐς ὃ ἂν προστάς τις τοῦ δήμου τοὺς τοιού- 
+τους παύσῃ. ἐκ δὲ αὐτῶν θωμάξζεται οὗτος δὴ 
+e . ^ ὃ ΄ 0 [4 δὲ , 5 ^ , 4 
+
+ὑπὸ τοῦ ὀήμου, 6ωμαζομενος ἂν wv ἐφάνη 
+μούναρχος ἐών, καὶ ἐν τούτῳ δηλοῖ καὶ οὗτος ὡς 
+ἡ μουναρχίη κράτιστον. ἑνὶ δὲ ἔπεϊ πάντα συλ- 
+
+^ ^ / 
+
+λαβόντα εἰπεῖν, κὀθεν ἡμῖν ἡ ἐλευθερίη ἐγένετο 
+καὶ τεῦ δόντος; κότερα παρὰ τοῦ δήμου ἢ ὀλι- 
+
+
+108 
+
+
+BOOK III. 82 
+
+
+Darius was the third to declare his opinion. 
+* Methinks," said he, * Megabyzus speaks rightly 
+concerning democracy, but not so concerning 
+oligarchy. For the choice lying between these 
+three, and each of them, democracy, oligarchy and 
+monarchy being supposed to be the best of its kind, 
+I hold that monarchy is by far the most excellent. 
+Nothing can be found better than the rule of the 
+one best man; his judgment being like to himself, 
+he will govern the multitude with perfect wisdom, 
+and best conceal plans made for the defeat of 
+enemies. But in an oligarchy, the desire of many 
+to do the state good service ofttimes engenders 
+bitter enmity among them ; for each one wishing to 
+be chief of all and to make his counsels prevail, 
+violent enmity is the outcome, enmity brings 
+faction and faction bloodshed; and the end of 
+bloodshed is monarchy; whereby it is shown that 
+this fashion of government is the best. Again, 
+the rule of the commonalty must of necessity 
+engender evil-mindedness; and when evil-minded- 
+ness in public matters is engendered, bad men 
+are not divided by enmity but united by close 
+friendship; for they that would do evil to the 
+commonwealth conspire together to do it. This 
+continues till someone rises to champion the people's 
+cause and makes an end of such evil-doing. He 
+therefore becomes the people's idol, and being their 
+idol is made their monarch ; so his case also proves 
+that monarchy is the best government. But (to 
+conclude the whole matter in one word) tell me, 
+whence and by whose gift came our freedom— 
+from the commonalty or an oligarchy or a single 
+
+
+199 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+γαρχίης ἢ ἢ μουνάρχου; ἔχω τοίνυν γνώμην ἡμέας 
+ἐλευθερωθέντας διὰ ἕνα ἄνδρα τὸ τοιοῦτο περι- 
+στέλλειν, χωρίς T€ τούτου πατρίους νόμους μὴ 
+λύειν ἔχοντας εὖ" οὐ γὰρ ἄμεινον. 
+
+83. Γνῶμαι μὲν δὴ τρεῖς αὗται προεκέατο, οἱ 
+δὲ τέσσερες τῶν ἑπτὰ ἀνδρῶν προσέθεντο ταύτῃ. 
+ὧς δὲ .ἑσσώθη τῇ γνώμῃ ὁ ᾿Οτάνης Πέρσῃσι 
+ἐσονομίην σπεύδων ποιῆσαι, ἔλεξε ἐς μέσον αὖ- 
+τοῖσι, τάδε. “ "Άνδρες στασιῶται, δῆλα γὰρ δὴ 6 ὅτι 
+δεῖ ἕνα γε τινὰ ἡμέων βασιλέα γενέσθαι, ἤτοι 
+κλήρῳ γε λαχόντα, Ù ἐπιτρεψάντων τῷ Ἡερσέων 
+πλήθεϊ, τὸν ἂν ἐκεῖνο ἕληται, 7 ἄλλῃ τινὶ μηχανῇ. | 
+ἐγὼ μέν νυν ὑμῖν οὐκ ἐναγωνιεῦμαι: οὔτε γὰρ 
+ἄρχειν οὔτε ἄρχεσθαι ἐθέλω" ἐπὶ τούτῳ δὲ ὑπεξ- 
+ἵσταμαι τῆς ἀρχῆς, ἐπ’ ᾧ τε ὑπ᾽ οὐδενὸς ὑμέων 
+ἄρξομαι, οὔτε αὐτὸς ἐγὼ οὔτε οἱ ἀπ’ ἐμεῦ αἰεὶ 
+γινόμενοι. τούτου. εἴπαντος ταῦτα ὡς συνεχώ- 
+ρεον οἱ ἓξ ἐπὶ τούτοισι, οὗτος μὲν δή σφι οὐκ 
+ἐνηγωνίξετο ἀλλ ἐκ μέσου κατῆστο, καὶ νῦν αὕτη 
+7) οἰκίη διατελέει μούνη ἐλευθέρη ἐ ἐοῦσα Περσέων 
+καὶ ἄρχεται τοσαῦτα ὅσα αὐτὴ θέλει, νόμους οὐκ 
+ὑπερβαίνουσα τοὺς Περσέων. 
+
+84. Οἱ δὲ λοιποὶ τῶν ἑπτὰ ἐβουλεύοντο ὡς 
+βἁσιλέα δικαιότατα στήσονται' καί σφι ἔδοξε 
+Ὀτάνῃ μὲν καὶ τοῖσι ἀπὸ Ὀτάνεω αἰεὶ γινο- 
+μένοισι, ἣν ἐς ἄλλον τινὰ τῶν ἑπτὰ ἔλθῃ ἡ 
+βασιληίη, ἐξαίρετα δίδοσθαι ἐσθῆτά τε Μηδικὴν 
+ἔτεος ἑκάστου καὶ τὴν πᾶσαν δωρεὴν À ἣ γίνεται ἐν 
+Πέρσησι τιμιωτάτη. | τοῦδε δὲ εἵνεκεν ἐβούλευσάν 
+οἱ δίδοσθαι ταῦτα, ὅτι ἐβούλευσέ τε πρῶτος τὸ 
+πρῆγμα καὶ συνέστησε αὐτούς. ταῦτα μὲν δὴ 
+Ὀτάνῃ ἐξαίρετα, τάδε δὲ ἐς τὸ κοινὸν ἐβούλευσαν, 
+
+
+IIO 
+
+
+BOOK III. 82-84 
+
+
+: ruler? I hold therefore, that as the rule of one 
+man gave us freedom, so that rule we should 
+preserve ; and, moreover, that we should not repeal 
+the good laws of our fathers; that were ill done." 
+
+..-—83. Having to judge between these three opinions, 
+four of the seven declared for the last. Then Otanes, 
+his proposal to give the Persians equality being de- 
+feated, thus spoke among them all: “Friends and 
+partisans! seeing that it is plain that one of us must 
+be made king (whether by lot, or by our suffering the 
+people of Persia to choose whom they will, or in some 
+other way), know that I will not enter the lists with 
+you ; I desire neither to rule nor to be ruled ; but if 
+I waive my claim to be king, I make this condition, 
+that neither [ nor any of my posterity shall be sub- 
+ject to any one of you." To these terms the six others 
+agreed ; Otanes took no part in the contest but stood 
+aside; and to this day his house (and none other in 
+Persia) remains free, nor is compelled to render any 
+unwiling obedience, so long as it transgresses no 
+Persian law. 
+
+84. The rest of the seven then consulted what was 
+the justest way of making a king ; and they resolved, 
+if another of the seven than Otanes should gain the 
+royal power, that Otanes and his posterity should 
+receive for themselves specially a yearly gift of Median 
+raiment and all such presents as the Persians hold 
+most precious. The reason of this resolve was that 
+it was he who had first contrived the matter and 
+assembled the conspirators. To Otanes, then, they 
+gave this peculiar honour; but with regard to all of 
+
+
+III 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+παριέναι. ἐς τὰ βασιλήια πάντα τὸν βουλόμενον 
+τῶν ἑπτὰ ἄνευ ἐσαγγελέος, ἦν μὴ τυγχάνῃ εὕδων 
+μετὰ γυναικὸς βασιλεύς, γαμέειν δὲ μὴ ἐξεῖναι 
+ἄλλοθεν τῷ βασιλέι ἢ ἐκ τῶν συνεπαναστάντων. 
+περὶ δὲ τῆς βασιληίης ἐβούλευσαν τοιὀνδε' ὅτευ 
+ἂν ὁ ἵππος ἡλίου ἐπανατέλλοντος πρῶτος φθέγ- 
+ξηται, ἐν τῷ προαστείῳ αὐτῶν ἐπιβεβηκότων, 
+τοῦτον ἔχειν τὴν βασιληίην. 
+
+85. Δαρείῳ δὲ ἦν ἱπποκόμος ἀνὴρ σοφός, τῷ 
+οὔνομα ἦν Οἰβάρης. πρὸς τοῦτον τὸν ἄνδρα, 
+ἐπείτε διελύθησαν, ἔλεξε Δαρεῖος τάδε. “ Ot- 
+Bapes, ἡ ἡμῖν δέδοκται περὶ τῆς βασιληίης ποιέειν 
+κατὰ τάδε" ὅ ὅτευ ἂν ὁ ἵππος πρῶτος φθέγξηται ἃ ἅμα 
+τῷ ἡλίῳ ἀνιόντι αὐτῶν ἐπαναβεβηκότων, τοῦτον 
+ἔχειν τὴν βασιληίην. νῦν ὧν εἴ τινα ἔχεις σοφίην, 
+μηχανῶ ὡς ἂν ἡμεῖς σχῶμεν τοῦτο τὸ γέρας καὶ 
+μὴ ἄλλος τις." ἀμείβεται Οἰβάρης τοῖσιδε. “E: 
+μὲν ν δὴ ὦ ὧ δέσποτα ἐν τούτῳ τοι ἐστὶ ἡ βασιλέα 
+εἶναι 3j μή, θάρσεε τούτου εἵνεκεν καὶ θυμὸν ἔ ἔχε 
+ἀγαθόν, ὡς βασιλεὺς οὐδεὶς ἄλλος πρὸ σεῦ ἔσται" 
+τοιαῦτα ἔχω φάρμακα. "λέγει Δαρεῖος “ Εἰ τοίνυν 
+τι τοιοῦτον ἔχεις σόφισμα, ὥρη μηχανᾶσθαι καὶ 
+μὴ ἀναβάλλεσθαι, ὡς τῆς ἐπιούσης ἡμέρης ὁ 
+ἀγὼν ἡμῖν ἐστί. ἀκούσας ταῦτα ὁ Οἰβάρης 
+ποιέει τοιόνδε' ὡς ἐγίνετο ἡ .νύξ, τῶν. θηλέων 
+ἵππων μίαν, τὴν ὁ Δαρείου ἵππος ἔστεργε μά- 
+λιστα, ταύτην ἀγαγὼν ἐς τὸ προάστειον κατέδησε 
+καὶ ἐπήγαγε τὸν Δαρείου. ἵππον, καὶ τὰ μὲν 
+πολλὰ περιῆγε ἀγχοῦ τῇ. ἵππῳ ἐγχρίμπτων τῇ 
+θηλέῃ, τέλος δὲ ἐ ᾿ἐπῆκε ὀχεῦσαι τὸν ἵππον. 
+
+86. “Ap ἡμέρῃ. δὲ διαφωσκούσῃ οἱ ἓξ κατὰ 
+συνεθήκαντο παρῆσαν ἐπὶ τῶν ἵππων' διεξελαυ- 
+
+
+112 
+
+
+BOOK III. 84-86 
+
+
+them alike they decreed that any one of the seven 
+should, if he so wished, enter the king's palace unan- 
+nounced, save if the king were sleeping with a woman ; 
+and that it should be forbidden to the king to take 
+a wife saving from the households of the conspirators. 
+As concerning the making of a king, they resolved 
+that he should be elected whose horse, when they 
+were all mounted in the suburb of the city, should 
+first be heard to neigh at sunrise. 
+
+85. Now Darius had a clever groom, whose name 
+was Oebares. When the council broke up, Darius 
+said to him: * Oebares, in the matter of the kingship, 
+we are resolved that he shall be king whose horse, 
+when we are all mounted, shall first neigh at sun- 
+rise. Now do you devise by whatever cunning you 
+can that we and none other may win this prize.” 
+* Master," Oebares answered, “ if this is to determine 
+whether you be king or not, you have no cause to 
+fear; be of good courage ; no man but you shall be 
+king; trust my arts for that." “Then,” said Darius, 
+* if you have any trick such as you say, set about it 
+without delay, for to-morrow is the day of decision." 
+When Oebares heard that he did as I will show. At 
+nightfal he brought a mare that was especially 
+favoured by Darius' horse, and tethered her in the 
+suburb of the city ; then bringing in Darius' horse, he 
+led him round her near, so as ever and anon to touch 
+her, and at last let the stallion have his way with the 
+mare. 
+
+86. At dawn of day came the six on horseback as 
+they had agreed. As they rode out through the 
+
+113 
+
+VOL. II. i 1 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+νόντων δὲ κατὰ τὸ προάστειον, ὡς κατὰ τοῦτο τὸ 
+χωρίον ἐγίνοντο ἵνα τῆς παροιχοµένης νυκτὸς 
+κατεδέδετο ἡ θήλεα ἵππος, ἐνθαῦτα ὁ Δαρείου 
+ἵππος προσδραμὼν ἐχρεμέτισε' ἅμα δὲ τῷ ἵππῳ 
+τοῦτο ποιήσαντι ἀστραπὴ ἐξ αἰθρίης καὶ βροντὴ 
+ἐγένετο. ἐπιγενόμενα δὲ ταῦτα τῷ Δαρείῳ ἐτε- 
+λέωσέ μιν ὥσπερ ἐκ συνθέτου τευ γενόμενα' οἳ 
+δὲ καταθορόντες ἀπὸ πῶν ἵππων προσεκύνεον τὸν 
+Δαρεῖον. 
+
+87. Oi μὲν δή φασι τὸν Oiflápea ταῦτα µη- 
+χανήσασθαι, ot δὲ τοιάδε (καὶ γὰρ ἐπ᾽ ἀμφότερα 
+λέγεται ὑπὸ Περσέων), ὡς τῆς ἵππου ταύτης τῶν 
+ἄρθρων ἐπιψαύσας τῇ χειρὶ ἔχοι αὐτὴν κρύψας 
+ἐν that ἀναξυρίσι' ὡς δὲ ἅμα τῷ ἡλίῳ ἀνιόντι 
+ἀπίεσθαι μέλλειν τοὺς ἵππους, τὸν Οἰβάρεα τοῦ- 
+τον ἐξείραντα τὴν χεῖρα πρὸς τοῦ Δαρείου ἵππου 
+τοὺς μυκτῆρας προσενεῖκαι, τὸν δὲ αἰσθόμενον 
+φριμάξασθαί τε καὶ χρεμετίσαι. 
+
+88. Δαρεῖός τε δὴ ὁ Ὑστάσπεος βασιλεὺς are- 
+δέδεκτο, καί οἱ ἦσαν ἐν τῇ ᾿Ασίῃ πάντες κατήκοοι 
+πλὴν ᾿Αραβίων, Κύρου τε καταστρεψαμένου καὶ 
+ὕστερον αὖτις Καμβύσεω. ᾿Αράβιοι δὲ οὐδαμὰ 
+κατήκουσαν ἐπὶ δουλοσύνῃ Πέρσησι, ἀλλὰ ξεῖνοι 
+ἐγένοντο παρέντες Καμβύσεα ἐπ᾽ Αἴγυπτον' ἀεκόν- 
+των γὰρ ᾿Αραβίων οὐκ ἂν ἐσβάλοιεν Πέρσαι ἐς 
+Αἴγυπτον. γάμους τε τοὺς πρώτους ἐγάμεε 
+Πέρσησι ὁ Δαρεῖος, Κύρου μὲν δύο θυγατέρας 
+"Ατοσσάν τε καὶ ᾿Αρτυστώνην, τὴν μὲν "Ατοσσαν 
+προσυνοικήσασαν Καμβύσῃ τε τῷ ἀδελφεῷ καὶ 
+αὖτις τῷ Μάγῳ, τὴν δὲ ᾿Αρτυστώνην παρθένον: 
+ἑτέρην δὲ Σμέρδιος τοῦ Κύρου θυγατέρα ἔγημε, τῇ 
+οὔνομα ἦν Ἡάρμυς' ἔσχε δὲ καὶ τὴν τοῦ Ὀτάνεω 
+
+
+114 
+
+
+BOOK III. 86-88 
+
+
+suburb and came to the place where the mare had 
+been picketed in the past night, Darius' horse trotted 
+up to it and whinnied ; and as he so did there came 
+lightning and thunder out of a clear sky. These 
+signs given to Darius were thought to be foreordained 
+and made his election perfect ; his companions leapt 
+from their horses and did obeisance to him. 
+
+87. Some say that this was Oebares' plan; but 
+there is another story in Persia besides this: that he 
+touched the mare with his hand, and then kept it 
+hidden in his breeches till the six were about to 
+let go their horses at sunrise; when he took his hand 
+out and held it to the nostrils of Darius' horse, which 
+forthwith snorted and whinnied. 
+
+88. So Darius son of Hystaspes was made king,! 
+and the whole of Asia, which Cyrus first and 
+Cambyses after him had subdued, was made subject 
+to him, except the Arabians; these did not yield the 
+obedience of slaves to the Persians, but were united 
+to them by friendship, as having given Cambyses 
+passage into Egypt, which the Persians could not 
+enter without the consent of the Arabians. Darius 
+took wives from the noblest houses of Persia, marry- 
+ing Cyrus’ daughters Atossa and Artystone ; Atossa 
+had been wife of her brother Cambyses and after- 
+wards of the Magian, Artystone was a virgin. He 
+married also Parmys, daughter of Cyrus' son Smerdis, 
+and that daughter of Otanes who had discovered 
+
+
+1 59] B.C. 
+
+
+τις 
+I 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+θυγατέρα, 7 TÓV Máyov κατάδηλον ἐ ἐποίησε" δυνά- 
+μίος τε πάντα οἱ ἐπιμπλέατο. πρῶτον μέν νυν 
+τύπον ποιησάμενος λίθινον ἔστησε" ζῷον δέ οἱ 
+ἐνῆν ἀνὴρ ἱππεύς, ἐπέγραψε δὲ γράμματα λέγοντα 
+τάδε" = Δαρεῖος | ὁ Ὑστάσπεος σύν τε τοῦ ἵππου 
+τῇ ἀρετῇ᾽ τὸ οὔνομα λέγων “ καὶ Οὐβάρεος τοῦ 
+ἱπποκόμου ἐκτήσατο τὴν Περσέων βασιληίην.” 
+
+89. Ποιήσας δὲ ταῦτα ἐν Πέρσῃσι ἀρχὰς κατε- 
+στήσατο εἴκοσι, τὰς αὐτοὶ καλέουσι σατραπήίΐας" 
+καταστήσας δὲ τὰς ἀρχὰς καὶ ἄρχοντας ἐπιστήσας 
+ἐτάξατο φόρους οἱ προσιέναι κατὰ ἔθνεά τε καὶ 
+πρὸς τοῖσι ἔθνεσι τοὺς πλησιοχώρους π οστάσσων, 
+καὶ ὑπερβαίνων τοὺς προσεχέας ge ἑκαστέρω 
+ἄλλοισι ἄλλα ἔθνεα νέμων. ἀρ ὰς δὲ καὶ φόρων 
+πρόσοδον τὴν ἐπέτειον κατὰ τά ε διεῖλε. τοῖσι 
+μὲν αὐτῶν ἀργύριον πο ο εἴρητο Βαβυ- 
+λώνιον σταθμὸν τάλαντον ἀπαγινέειν, τοῖσι δὲ 
+χρυσίον ἀπαγινέουσι Εὐβοϊκόν. τὸ δὲ Βαβυλώ- 
+νιον τάλαντον δύναται Εὐβοΐδας ὀκτὼ καὶ ἑθδο- 
+μήκοντα μνέας.: ἐπὶ γὰρ Κύρου ἄρχοντος καὶ 
+αὖτις Καμβύσεω ἢ ἦν κατεστηκὸς οὐδὲν όρου. πέρι, 
+ἀλλὰ δῶρα ἀγίνεον. διὰ δὲ ταύτην. την ἐπίταξιν 
+τοῦ φόρου καὶ παραπλήσια ταύτη ἄλλα λέγουσι 
+Πέρσαι ὡς Δαρεῖος μὲν ἦν κάπηλος, Καμβύσης 
+δὲ δεσπότης, Kópos δὲ πατήρ, ὃ μὲν ὅτι ἐκαπήλευε 
+πάντα τὰ πρήγματα, ὃ δὲ ὅτι χαλεπός τε ἦν καὶ 
+ὀλίγωρος, ὃ 0 δὲ ὅτι ἥπιός τε καὶ ἀγαθά σφι πάντα 
+
+
+ἐμηχανήσατο. 
+
+
+1 The MSS. have Εὐβοΐδας ἑβδομήκοντα μνέας; but the 
+reading given is now generally adopted. As the weight- 
+relation of the Persiah silver stater to tho Persian gold stater 
+—the unit, of which 3000 composed the talent— was 3: 4, the 
+
+
+116 
+
+
+BOOK III. 88-89 
+
+
+the truth about the Magian; and the whole land 
+was full of his power. First he made and set up a 
+carved stone, whereon was graven the figure of a 
+horseman, with this inscription: ‘ Darius son of 
+Hystaspes, aided by the excellence of his horse ” 
+(here followed the horse's name) *and of Oebares 
+his groom, won the kingdom of Persia." 
+
+89. Having so done in Persia, he divided his 
+dominions into twenty governments, called by the 
+Persians satrapies!; and doing so and appointing 
+governors, he ordained that each several nation 
+should pay him tribute; to this end he united each 
+nation with its closest neighbours, and, beyond these 
+nearest lands, assigned those that were farther off 
+some to one and some to another nation. I will 
+now show how he divided his governments and the 
+tributes which were paid him yearly. Those that 
+paid in silver were appointed to render the weight 
+of a Babylonian talent; those that paid in gold, an 
+Euboic talent; the Babylonian talent being equal 
+to seventy-eight Euboic minae. In the reigns of 
+Cyrus and Cambyses after him there was no fixed 
+tribute, but payment was made in gifts. It is by 
+reason of this fixing of tribute, and other like ordin- 
+ances, that the Persians called Darius the huckster, 
+Cambyses the master, and Cyrus the father; for 
+Darius made petty profit out of everything, Cambyses 
+was harsh and arrogant, Cyrus was merciful and ever 
+wrought for their well-being. 
+
+
+1 On the following list see the introduction to this book. 
+
+
+total silver or Babylonian talent equalled 13 of the gold (or 
+Euboic) talent. Moreover the RENS 78 is confirmed by the 
+calculation in ch. 95. 
+
+
+I17 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+. Απὸ μὲν δὴ Ἰώνων καὶ Μαγνήτων. τῶν ἐν 
+τῇ Dus καὶ Αἰολέων καὶ Καρῶν καὶ Λυκίων καὶ 
+Μιλυέων καὶ Παμφύλων. (εἷς γὰρ ἡ ἣν οἱ τεταγ- 
+μένος οὗτος φόρος) προσήιε τετρακόσια τάλαντα 
+ἀργυρίου. ὁ μὲν δὴ πρῶτος οὗτός οἱ νομὸς κατε- 
+στήκεε, ἀπὸ δὲ Μυσῶν καὶ Λυδῶν καὶ Λασονίων 
+καὶ Καβαλέων καὶ Ὑτεννέων πεντακόσια τάλαντα" 
+δεύτερος νομὸς οὗτος. ἀπὸ δὲ Ἑλλησποντίων τῶν 
+ἐπὶ δεξιὰ ἐσπλέοντι καὶ Φρυγῶν καὶ Θρηίκων τῶν 
+ἐν τῇ ᾿Ασίῃ καὶ Παφλαγόνων καὶ Μαριανδυνῶν 
+καὶ Συρίων ἑξήκοντα καὶ τριηκόσια τάλαντα ἦν 
+φόρος" νομὸς τρίτος οὗτος. ἀπὸ δὲ Κιλίκων V ἵπποι 
+τε λευκοὶ ἑξήκοντα καὶ τριηκόσιοι, ἑκάστης ἡμέρης 
+εἷς -γινόμενος, καὶ τάλαντα ἀργυρίου πεντακόσια" 
+τούτων δὲ τεσσεράκοντα καὶ ἑκατὸν ἐς τὴν φρου- 
+ρέουσαν ἵππον τὴν Κιλικίην χώρην ἀναισιμοῦτο, 
+τὰ δὲ τριηκόσια καὶ ἑξήκοντα Δαρείῳ ἐφοίτα" 
+iio τέταρτος οὗτος. 
+
+"Amro δὲ Ποσιδηίου πόλιος, τὴν ᾿Αμϕίλοχος 
+ὁ wh οἴκισε ἐπ᾽ οὔροισι τοῖσι Κιλίκων τε 
+καὶ | Σύρων, ἀρξάμενος ἀπὸ ταύτης μέχρι Αἰγύπτου, 
+πλὴν μοίρης τῆς ᾿Αραβίων (ταῦτα γὰρ ἦν ἀτελέα), 
+πεντήκοντα καὶ τριηκόσια τάλαντα φόρος ἦν. ἔστι 
+δὲ ἐν τῷ νομῷ τούτῳ Φοινίκη τε πᾶσα καὶ Lupin 
+1) Παλαιστίνη καλεομένη καὶ Κύπρος" νομὸς 
+πέµπτος οὗτος. ἀπ᾽ Αἰγύπτου δὲ καὶ Λιβύων 
+τῶν προσεχέων Αἰγύπτῳ καὶ Κυρήνης τε καὶ 
+Βάρκης (és yap τὸν Αἰγύπτιον νομὸν αὗται ἐκεκο- 
+σμέατο) ἑπτακόσια προσήιε τάλαντα, πάρεξ τοῦ 
+ἐκ τῆς Μοίριος λίμνης γινομένου ἀργυρίου, τὸ 
+ἐγίνετο ἐκ τῶν ἰχθύων" τούτου τε δὴ χωρὶς τοῦ 
+ἀργυρίου καὶ uu σίτου προσήιε 
+
+
+118 
+
+
+BOOK III. 90-91 
+
+
+90. The lonians, Magnesians of Asia, Aeolians, 
+Carians, Lycians, Milyans, and Pamphylians, on 
+whom Darius laid one joint tribute, paid a revenue 
+of three hundred talents of silver. This was estab- 
+lished as his first province. The Mysians, Lydians, 
+Lasonians, Cabalians, and Hytennians paid five 
+hundred talents; this was the second province. 
+The third comprised the MHellespontians on the 
+right of the entrance of the straits, the Phrygians, 
+Thracians of Asia, Paphlagonians, Mariandynians, 
+and Syrians; these paid three hundred and sixty 
+talents of tribute. The fourth province was Cilicia. 
+This rendered three hundred and sixty white horses, 
+one for each day in the year, and five hundred 
+talents of silver. An hundred and forty of these 
+were expended on the horsemen who were the 
+guard of Cilicia; the three hundred and sixty that 
+remained were paid to Darius. 
+
+91. The fifth province was the country (except 
+the part belonging to the Arabians, which paid no 
+tribute) between Posideion, a city founded on the 
+Cilician and Syrian border by Amphilochus son of 
+Amphiaraus, and Egypt; this paid three hundred 
+and fifty talents; in this province was all Phoenice, 
+and the part of Syria called Palestine, and Cyprus. 
+The sixth province was Egypt and the neighbouring 
+parts of Libya, and Cyrene and Barca, all which 
+were included in the province of Egypt. Hence 
+came seven hundred talents, besides the revenue 
+of silver from the fish of the lake Moeris; besides 
+that silver and the measure of grain that was 
+given also, seven hundred talents were paid ; for an 
+
+
+119 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἑπτακόσια τάλαντα" σίτου γὰρ. δύο καὶ δέκα 
+μυριάδας Περσέων τε τοῖσι ἐν τῷ Λευκῷ τείχεϊ 
+τῷ ἐν Μέμφι κατοικηµένοισι καταμετρέουσι. καὶ 
+τοῖσι τούτων ἐπικούροισι. νομὸς ἕκτος οὗτος. 
+Σατταγύδαι δὲ καὶ Γανδάριοι καὶ Δαδίκαι τε καὶ 
+᾽Απαρύται, ἐς τὠυτὸ τεταγμένοι ἑβδομήκοντα καὶ 
+ἑκατὸν τάλαντα προσέφερον' νομὸς δὲ οὗτος 
+ἕβδομος. ἀπὸ Σούσων δὲ καὶ τῆς ἄλλης Κισσίων 
+χώρης τριηκόσια’ νομὸς ὄγδοος οὗτος. 
+
+99, ᾿Απὸ Βαβυλῶνος δὲ καὶ τῆς λοιπῆς ᾿Ασσυ- 
+ρίης χίλιά οἱ προσήιε τάλαντα ἀργυρίου, καὶ παῖδες 
+ἐκτομίαι πεντακόσιοι" νομὸς εἴνατος οὗτος. ἀπὸ 
+δὲ ᾿Αγβατάνων καὶ τῆς λοιπῆς Μηδικῆς καὶ Hapı- 
+κανίων καὶ Ὀρθοκορυβαντίων πεντήκοντά τε καὶ 
+τετρακόσια τάλαντα νομὸς. δέκατος οὗτος. Κάσ- 
+πιοι δὲ καὶ Παυσίκαι καὶ Παντίμαθοί τε καὶ 
+Δαρεῖται ἐς τὠυτὸ συμφέροντες διηκόσια τάλαντα 
+ἀπαγίνεον" νομὸς ἑνδέκατος οὗτος. 
+
+93. ᾿Απὸ Βακτριανῶν δὲ μέχρι, ᾿Αἰγλῶν ἑξήκοντα 
+καὶ τριηκόσια “ τάλαντα φόρος jv: νομὸς δυωδέ- 
+κατος οὗτος. ἀπὸ Πακτυϊκῆς δὲ καὶ ᾽ἁρμενίων 
+καὶ τῶν 'προσεχέων μέχρι τοῦ πόντου τοῦ Εὐξείνου 
+τετρακόσια τάλαντα! νομὸς τρίτος καὶ δέκατος 
+οὗτος. ἀπὸ δὲ Σαγαρτίων καὶ Σαραγγέων καὶ 
+Θαμαναίων καὶ Οὐτίων καὶ Μύκων καὶ τῶν ἐν τῇσι 
+νήσοισι οἰκεύντων τῶν ἐν τῇ ᾿Ερυθρῇ θαλάσση, ἐν 
+τῆσι τοὺς ἀνασπάστους «καλεομένους κατοικίζει 
+βασιλεύς, ἀπὸ τούτων πάντων ἑξακόσια τάλαντα 
+ἐγίνετο φόρος" νομὸς τέταρτος καὶ δέκατος οὗτος. 
+Σάκαι δὲ καὶ Κάσπιοι πεντήκοντα καὶ -διηκόσια 
+ἀπαγίνεον τάλαντα' νομὸς πέμπτος καὶ δέκατος 
+οὗτος. Πάρθοι δὲ καὶ Χοράσμιοι καὶ Σόγδοι τε 
+120 
+
+
+BOOK ΠΠ. 91-93 
+
+
+hundred and twenty thousand bushels of grain 
+were also assigned to the Persians quartered at 
+the White Citadel of Memphis and their allies. 
+The Sattagydae, Gandarii, Dadicae, and Aparytae 
+paid together an hundred and seventy talents; this 
+was the seventh province ; the eighth was Susa and 
+the rest of the Cissian country, paying three hundred 
+talents. 
+
+92. Babylon and the rest of Assyria rendered to 
+Darius a thousand talents of silver and five hundred 
+boys to be eunuchs; this was the ninth province; 
+Agbatana and the rest of Media, with the Pari- 
+canians and Orthocorybantians, paid four hundred 
+and fifty talents, and was the tenth province. The 
+eleventh comprised the Caspii, Pausicae, Pantimathi, 
+and Daritae, paying jointly two hundred ; 
+
+93. The twelfth, the Bactrians as far as the land 
+of the Aegli; these paid three hundred and 
+sixty. The thirteenth, the Pactyic country and 
+Armenia and the lands adjoining thereto as far as 
+the Euxine sea; these paid four hundred. The 
+fourteenth province was made up of the Sagartii, 
+Sarangeis, Thamanaei, Utii, Myci, and the dwellers 
+on those islands of the southern sea wherein the 
+king plants the people said to be “removed” 1; these 
+together paid a tribute of six hundred talents. The 
+Sacae and Caspii were the fifteenth, paying two 
+hundred and fifty. The Parthians, Chorasmians, 
+
+
+1 The regular term for the peoples or individuals who 
+were transplanted from the western into the eastern parts of 
+the Persian empire ; the ἆνα- implying removal from the sea 
+to the highlands. 
+
+
+121 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+καὶ ᾿Αρειοι τριηκόσια τάλαντα" νομὸς ἕκτος καὶ 
+δέκατος οὗτος. 
+
+94. Παρικάνιοι δὲ καὶ Αἰθίοπες οἱ ἐκ τῆς Ασίης 
+τετρακόσια τάλαντα ἀπαγύνεον' νομὸς ἕβδομος 
+καὶ δέκατος οὗτος. Ματιηνοῖσι δὲ καὶ Σάσπειρσι 
+καὶ ᾿Αλαροδίοισι διηκόσια ἐπετέτακτο τάλαντα: 
+νομὸς ὄγδοος καὶ δέκατος οὗτος. Μόσχοισι δὲ 
+καὶ Τιβαρηνοῖσι καὶ } Μάκρωσι καὶ } Μοσσυνοίκοισι 
+καὶ Μαρσὶ τριηκόσια τάλαντα προείρητο" νομὸς 
+εἴνατος καὶ δέκατος οὗτος. Ἰνδῶν δὲ πλῆθός τε 
+πολλῷ πλεῖστον ἐστὶ πάντων τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν 
+ἀνθρώπων, καὶ φόρον ἀπαγίνεον πρὸς πάντας τοὺς 
+ἄλλόνς ἑξήκοντα καὶ τριηκόσια τάλαντα ψήγματος: 
+νομὸς εἰκοστὸς οὗτος. 
+
+95, Τὸ μὲν δὴ ἀργύριον τὸ Βαβυλώνιον πρὸς τὸ 
+Εὐβοϊκὸν συμβαλλόμενον τάλαντον γίνεται ὀγδώ- 
+κοντα καὶ ὀκτακόσια καὶ εἰνακισχίλια TàXavra:! 
+τὸ δὲ -Χρυσίον τρισκαιδεκαστάσιον λογιζόμενον, 
+τὸ ψῆγμα εὑρίσκεται ἐὸν Εὐβοϊκῶν ταλάντων 
+ὀγδώκοντα καὶ ἑξακοσίων καὶ τετρακισχιλίων. 
+τούτων ὧν πάντων συντιθεμένων τὸ πλῆθος 
+Εὐβοϊκὰ τάλαντα συνελέγετο ἐς τὸν ἐπέτειον 
+φόρον Δαρείῳ μύρια καὶ τετρακισχίλια καὶ πεντα- 
+` κόσια καὶ ἑξήκοντα: τὸ Ò ἔτι τούτων ἔλασσον 
+ἀπιεὶς οὐ λέγω. 
+
+96. Οὗτος Δαρείῳ προσήιε φόρος ἀπὸ τῆς τε 
+᾿Ασίης καὶ τῆς Λιθύης ὀλιγαχόθεν. προϊόντος 
+μέντοι τοῦ χρόνου καὶ ἀπὸ νήσων προσήιε ἄλλος 
+φόρος καὶ τῶν ἐν τῇ Εὐρώπη μέχρι Θεσσαλίης 
+
+
+1 The MSS. have τεσσαράκοντα καὶ πεντακόσια καὶ εἰν. τ.; 
+but the alteration given here is generally accepted and is 
+necessary in view of the total given below. "The 19 tributes 
+
+
+122 
+
+
+BOOK III. 93-96 
+
+
+Sogdi, and Arii were the sixteenth, paying three 
+hundred. 
+
+94. The Paricanii and Ethiopians of Asia, being 
+the seventeenth, paid four hundred ; the Matieni, 
+Saspiri, and Alarodii were the eighteenth, and two 
+hundred talents were the appointed tribute. The 
+Moschi, Tibareni, Macrones, Mossynoeci, and Mares, 
+the nineteenth province, were ordered to pay three 
+hundred. The Indians made up the twentieth 
+province. These are more in number than any 
+nation known to me, and they paid a greater tribute 
+than any other province, namely three hundred and 
+sixty talents-of gold dust. 
+
+95. Now if these Babylonian talents be reckoned 
+in Euboic money, the sum is seen to be nine 
+thousand eight hundred and eighty Euboic talents : 
+and the gold coin being counted as thirteen times 
+the value of the silver, the gold-dust is found to be 
+of the worth of four thousand six hundred and 
+eighty Euboic talents. Therefore it is seen by adding 
+all together that Darius collected a yearly tribute of 
+fourteen thousand five hundred and sixty talents; 
+I take no account of figures less than ten. 
+
+96. This was Darius' revenue from Asia and a few 
+parts of Libya. But as time went on he drew 
+tribute also from the islands and the dwellers in 
+Europe, as far as Thessaly. The tribute is stored by 
+
+
+make up 7,600 Babylonian talents, that is, on the 3:4 
+relation (see ch. 89), 9,880 Euboic talents ; add the Indian 
+tribute (4,680 talents) and the total is 14,560. 
+
+
+124 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οἰκημένων. τοῦτον τὸν φόρον θησαυρίξει Θασιλεὺς 
+τρόπῳ τοιῴδε' ἐς πίθους κεραμίνους τήξας. κατα- 
+χέει, πλήσας δὲ τὸ ἄγγος περιαιρέει τὸν κέραμον' 
+ἐπεὰν δὲ δεηθῇ χρημάτων, κατακόπτει τοσοῦτο 
+ὅσου ἂν ἑκάστοτε δέηται. 
+
+97. Αὗται μὲν ἀρχαί τε ἦσαν καὶ φόρων ἐπιτά- 
+Eves. ἡ Περσὶς δὲ χώρη μούνη μοι οὐκ εἴρηται 
+δασμοφόρος' ἀτελέα γὰρ Πέρσαι νέμονται χώρην. 
+
+οἶδε δὲ φόρον μὲν οὐδένα ἐτάχθησαν φέρειν, δῶρα 
+δὲ ἆ ἀγίνεον" Αἰθίοπες οἱ πρόσουροι Αἰγύπτῳ, τοὺς 
+Καμβύσης ἐλαύνων ἐ ἐπὶ τοὺς μακροβίους Αἰθίοπας 
+κατεστρέψατο, ot τε] περί τε Νύσην τὴν ἱρὴν 
+κατοίκηνται καὶ τῷ Διονύσῳ ἀνάγουσι τὰς ὁ ὁρτάς' 
+[οὗτοι οἱ Αἰθίοπες καὶ οἱ πλησιόχωροι τούτοισι 
+σπέρματι μὲν χρέωνται τῷ αὐτῷ τῷ καὶ οἱ Καλ- 
+λαντίαι Ἴνδοί, οἰκήματα δὲ é ἔκτηνται κατάγαια. |? 
+οὗτοι συναμφότεροι διὰ τρίτου ἔτεος ἀγίνεον, 
+ἀγινέουσι δὲ καὶ τὸ μέχρι, ἐμεῦ, δύο χοίνικας 
+ἀπύρου χρυσίου καὶ διηκοσίας Φάλαγγας ἐβένου 
+καὶ πέντε παῖδας Αἰθίοπας καὶ ἐλέφαντος ὀδόντας 
+μεγάλους εἴκοσι. Κόλχοι δὲ τὰ ἐτάξαντο ἐς τὴν 
+δωρεὴν καὶ οἱ προσεχέες μέχρι Καυκάσιος ὄρεος 
+(és : TOÜTO yàp ` τὸ ὄρος ὑπὸ Πέρσῃσι ἄρχεται, τὰ δὲ 
+πρὸς βορέην å ἄνεμον τοῦ Καυκάσιος Περσέων οὐδὲν 
+ἔτι φροντίζει), οὗτοι ὧν δῶρα τὰ ἐτάξαντο ἔ ἔτι καὶ 
+ἐς ἐμὲ διὰ πεντετηρίδος ἀγίνεον, ἑκατὸν παῖδας 
+
+
+1 of re; MSS. οἵ; Stein places a lacuna before of, because 
+the Ethiopians bordering on Egypt did not, he says, live 
+near Nysa; at the saine time he suggests the easy correction 
+of τε, which I adopt. 
+
+2 The words in brackets are probably a commentator’s 
+note drawn from ch. 101. The Καλλαντίαι are obviously 
+the Καλλατίαι of ch. 38. 
+
+
+124 
+
+
+BOOK III. 96-97 
+
+
+the king in this fashion: he melts it down and pours 
+it into earthen vessels; when the vessel is full he 
+breaks the earthenware away, and when he needs 
+money cuts off as much as will serve his purpose. 
+
+97. These were the several governments and 
+appointments of tribute. The Persian country is 
+the only one which I have not recorded as tributary ; 
+for the Persians dwell free from all taxes. As for 
+those on whom no tribute was laid, but who rendered 
+gifts instead, they were, firstly, the Ethiopians near- 
+est to Egypt, whom Cambyses subdued in his march 
+towards the long-lived Ethiopians; and also those 
+who dwell about the holy Nysa,! where Dionysus 
+is the god of their festivals. [The seed of these 
+Ethiopians and their neighbours is like the seed of the 
+Indian Callantiae; they live underground.] These 
+together brought every third year and still bring 
+a gift of two choenixes? of pure gold, two hundred 
+blocks of ebony, five Ethiopian boys, and twenty 
+great elephants’ tusks. Gifts were also required 
+of the Colchians and their neighbours as far as the 
+Caucasian mountains (which is as far as the Persian 
+rule reaches, the country north of the Caucasus 
+paying no regard to the Persians); these were 
+rendered every five years and are still so rendered, 
+namely, an hundred boys and as many maidens. 
+
+
+1 Probably the mountain called Barkal in Upper Nubia ; 
+this is called **sacred" in hieroglyphic inscriptions. 
+
+2 The choenix was a measure of about the capacity of a 
+quart, 
+
+
+I25 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+καὶ ἑκατὸν παρθένους. ᾿Αράβιοι δὲ χίλια τάλαντα 
+ἀγίνεον λιβανωτοῦ ἀνὰ πᾶν ἔτος. ταῦτα μὲν 
+οὗτοι δῶρα πάρεξ τοῦ φόρου βασιλέι ἐκόμιζον. 
+
+98. Τὸν δὲ χρυσὸν τοῦτον τὸν πολλὸν οἱ Ἰνδοί, 
+ἀπ᾽ οὗ τὸ ψῆγμα τῷ βασιλέι τὸ εἰρημένον ropi- 
+ὅουσι, τρόπῳ τοιῷδε κτῶνται. ἔστι τῆς ᾿Ινδικῆς 
+χώρης τὸ πρὸς ἥλιον ἀνίσχοντα ψάμμος" τῶν γὰρ 
+ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν, τῶν καὶ πέρι ἀτρεκές τι λέγεται, 
+πρῶτοι πρὸς ἠῶ καὶ ἡλίου ἀνατολὰς οἰκέουσι 
+ἀνθρώπων τῶν ἐν τῇ Acin ᾿Ινδοί' ᾿Ινδῶν γὰρ τὸ 
+πρὸς τὴν ἠῶ ἐρημίη ἐστὶ διὰ τὴν ψάμμον. ἔστι δὲ 
+πολλὰ ἔθνεα ᾿Ινδῶν καὶ οὐκ ὁμόφωνα σφίσι, καὶ 
+οἳ μὲν αὐτῶν νομάδες εἰσὶ οἳ δὲ οὔ, οἳ δὲ ἐν τοῖσι 
+ἕλεσι οἰκέουσι τοῦ ποταμοῦ καὶ ἰχθύας σιτέονται 
+ὠμούς, τοὺς αἱρέουσι ἐκ πλοίων καλαμίνων ὁρμώ- 
+µενοι καλάμου δὲ ἓν γόνυ πλοῖον ἕκαστον ποιέ- 
+εται. οὗτοι μὲν δὴ τῶν ᾿Ινδῶν φορέουσι ἐσθῆτα 
+φλοΐνην' ἐπεὰν ἐκ τοῦ ποταμοῦ φλοῦν ἀμήσωσι 
+καὶ κὀψωσι, τὸ ἐνθεῦτεν φορμοῦ τρόπον καταπλέ- 
+ξαντες ὡς θώρηκα ἐνδύνουσι. 
+
+99. "Αλλοι δὲ τῶν ᾿Ινδῶν πρὸς ἠῶ οἰκέοντες τού- 
+των νομάδες εἰσὶ κρεῶν ἐδεσταὶ ὠμῶν, καλέονται δὲ 
+Παδαῖοι, νομαίοισι δὲ τοιοῖσιδε λέγονται χρᾶσθαι" 
+ὃς ἂν κάμῃ τῶν ἀστῶν, ἤν τε γυνὴ ἤν τε ἀνήρ, τὸν 
+- μὲν ἄνδρα ἄνδρες οἱ μάλιστά οἱ ὁμιλέοντες κτεί- 
+νουσι, φάμενοι αὐτὸν τηκόμενον τῇ νούσῳ τὰ κρέα 
+σφίσι διαφθείρεσθαι: ὁ δὲ ἄπαρνος ἐστὶ μὴ μὲν 
+νοσέειν, of δὲ οὐ συγγινωσκόμενοι ἀποκτείναντες 
+κατευωχέονται. ἣ δὲ ἂν γυνὴ κάμῃ, ὡσαύτως 
+αἱ ἐπιχρεώμεναι μάλιστα γυναῖκες ταϑτὰ τοῖσι 
+ἀνδράσι ποιεῦσι. τὸν γὰρ δὴ ἐς γῆρας ἀπικόμενον 
+θύσαντες κατευωχέονται' ἐς δὲ τούτου λόγον οὐ 
+126 
+
+
+BOOK III. 97-99 
+
+
+The Arabians rendered a thousand talents’ weight 
+of frankincense yearly. Such were the gifts of these 
+peoples to the king, besides the tribute. 
+
+98. All this abundance of gold, whence the 
+Indians send the aforesaid gold-dust to the king, they 
+win in such manner as I will show. All to the east 
+of the Indian country is sand; among all men of 
+whom hearsay gives us any clear knowledge the 
+Indians dwell farthest to the east and the sunrise 
+of all the nations of Asia; for on the eastern side 
+of India all is desert by reason of the sand. There 
+are many Indian nations, none speaking the same 
+language; some of them are nomads, some not; 
+some dwell in the river marshes and live on raw fish, 
+which they catch from reed boats. Each boat is 
+made of one single length between the joints of 
+a reed.! These Indians wear clothes of rushes; 
+they mow and cut these from the river, then 
+plait them crosswise like a mat, and put it on 
+like a breastplate. 
+
+99. Other Indians, to the east of these, are 
+nomads and eat raw flesh ; they are called Padaei. 
+It is said to be their custom that when any of their 
+countryfolk male or female are sick, a man's closest 
+friends kill him, saying that they lose his flesh 
+by the wasting of the disease; though he denies 
+that he is sick, yet they will not believe him, but 
+kill and eat him. "When a woman is sick she is 
+put to death like the men by the women who most 
+consort with her. As for one that has come to 
+old age, they sacrifice him and feast on his flesh; 
+
+
+1 Not the bamboo, apparently, but the ‘‘ kana,” which 
+sometimes grows to a height of 50 feet. 
+
+
+127 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+πολλοί τινες αὐτῶν ἀπικνέονται" πρὸ γὰρ τοῦ τὸν 
+ἐς νοῦσον πίπτοντα πάντα κτείνουσι. 
+
+100. Ἑτέρων δὲ ἐστὶ ᾿Ινδῶν ὅδε ἄλλος τρόπος" 
+οὔτε κτείνουσι οὐδὲν ἔμψυχον οὔτε τι σπείρουσι 
+οὔτε οἰκίας νομίζουσι ἐκτῆσθαι ποιηφαγέουσί τε" 
+καὶ αὐτοῖσι ἐστὶ ὅσον κέγχρος τὸ μέγαθος ἐν 
+κάλυκι, αὐτόματον ἐκ τῆς γῆς γινόμενον, τὸ συλλέ- 
+Ύοντες αὐτῇ Tf κάλυκι ἕψουσί τε καὶ σιτέονται. 
+ὃς ὃ ἂν ἐς νοῦσον αὐτῶν πέσῃ, ἐλθὼν ἐς τὴν 
+ἔρημον κέεται φροντίξει δὲ οὐδεὶς οὔτε ἀποθα- 
+νόντος οὔτε κάμνοντος. 
+
+101. Μίξις δὲ τούτων τῶν ᾿Ινδῶν τῶν κατέλεξα 
+πάντων ἐμφανής ἐστι κατά περ τῶν προβάτων, 
+καὶ τὸ χρῶμα φορέουσι ὅμοιον πάντες καὶ παρα- 
+πλήσιον Αἰθίοψι. ἡ γονὴ δὲ αὐτῶν, τὴν ἀπίενται 
+ἐς τὰς γυναῖκας, οὐ κατά περ τῶν ἄλλων ἀνθρώπων 
+ἐστὶ -λευκή, ἀλλὰ μέλαινα κατά περ τὸ χρῶμα. 
+τοιαύτην δὲ καὶ Αἰθίοπες ἀπίενται θορήν. οὗτοι 
+μὲν τῶν ᾿Ινδῶν ἑκαστέρω τῶν Περσέων οἰκέουσι 
+καὶ πρὸς ν νότου ἀνέμου, καὶ Δαρείου βασιλέος 
+οὐδαμὰ ὑπήκουσαν. 
+
+102. "Αλλοι δὲ τῶν ᾿Ινδῶν 'Κασπατύρῳ τε πόλι 
+καὶ τῇ Πακτυϊκῇ ώρῃ εἰσὶ πρόσουροι, πρὸς 
+ἄρκτου τε καὶ βορέω ἀνέμου κατοικημένοι τῶν 
+ἄλλων ᾿Ινδῶν, οἳ Βακτρίοισι παραπλησίην ἔχουσι 
+δίαιταν. οὗτοι καὶ μαχιμώτατοι εἰσὶ Ἰνδῶν καὶ 
+οἱ ἐπὶ τὸν χρυσὸν στελλόμενοι εἰσὶ οὗτοι" κατὰ 
+γὰρ τοῦτο ἐστὶ ἐρημίη διὰ τὴν γάμμον. ἐν δὴ 
+ὧν τῇ ἐρημίῃ ταύτῃ καὶ τῇ ψάμμῳ γίνονται 
+μύρμηκες μεγάθεα ἔχοντες κυνῶν μὲν ἐλάσσονα 
+ἀλωπέκων δὲ μέξονα' εἰσὶ γὰρ αὐτῶν καὶ παρὰ 
+βασιλέι τῷ Περσέων ἐνθεῦτεν θηρευθέντες. οὗτοι 
+
+
+128 
+
+
+BOOK III. 99-102 
+
+
+but there are not many who come thereto, for 
+all who fall sick are killed ere that. 
+
+100. There are other Indians, again, who kill 
+no living creature, nor sow, nor are wont to have 
+houses; they eat grass, and they have a grain 
+growing naturally from the earth in its calyx, about 
+the size of a millet-seed, which they gather with 
+the calyx and roast and eat. When any one of them 
+falls sick he goes into the desert and lies there, 
+none regarding whether he be sick or die. 
+
+101. These Indians of whom I speak have inter- 
+course openly like cattle ; they are all black-skinned, 
+like the Ethiopians. Their genital seed too is not 
+white like other men’s, but like the Ethiopians’ 
+black. These Indians dwell far away from the 
+Persians southwards, and were no subjects of King 
+Darius. 
+
+102. Other Indians dwell near the town of Cas- 
+patyrus and the Pactyic country,! northward of the 
+rest of India; these live like the Bactrians ; they 
+are of all Indians the most warlike, and it is they 
+who are charged with the getting of the gold; for 
+in these parts all is desert by reason of the sand. 
+There are found in this sandy desert ants? not so 
+big as dogs but bigger than foxes; the Persian 
+king has some of these, which have been caught 
+
+
+1 N.E. Afghanistan. Caspatyrus (or Caspapyrus) is said 
+to be probably Cabul. 
+
+2 It is suggested that the ‘‘ants” may have been really 
+marmots. But even this does not seem to make the story 
+much more probable. 
+
+
+129 
+VOL. II. K 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὧν οἱ μύρμηκες ποιεύμενοι οἴκησιν ὑπὸ γῆν àva- 
+φορέουσι τὴν ψάμμον κατά περ οἱ ἐν τοῖσι 
+“Ελλησι μύρμηκες κατὰ τὸν αὐτὸν τρόπον, εἰσὶ 
+δὲ καὶ αὐτοὶ τὸ εἶδος ὁμοιότατοι' ἡ δὲ ψ-άμμος ἡ 
+ἀναφερομένη ἐστὶ χρυσῖτις. ἐπὶ δὴ ταύτην τὴν 
+ψάμμον στέλλονται ἐς τὴν ἔρημον οἱ Ἰνδοί, ζευ- 
+ξάμενος ἕκαστος καμήλους τρεῖς, σειρηφόρον μὲν 
+ἑκατέρωθεν ἔρσενα παρέλκειν, θήλεαν δὲ ἐς μέσον' 
+ἐπὶ ταύτην δὴ αὐτὸς ἀναβαίνει, ἐπιτηδεύσας ὅκως 
+ἀπὸ τέκνων ὡς νεωτάτων ἀποσπάσας ξεύξει. αἱ 
+γάρ σφι κάμηλοι ἵππων οὐκ ἥσσονες ἐς ταχυτῆτα 
+εἰσί, χωρὶς δὲ ἄχθεα δυνατώτεραι πολλὸν φέρειν. 
+
+103. Τὸ μὲν δὴ εἶδος ὁκοῖόν τι ἔχει ἡ κάμηλος, 
+ἐπισταμένοισι τοῖσι "Ελλησι οὐ συγγράφω" τὸ 
+δὲ μὴ ἐπιστέαται αὐτῆς, τοῦτο φράσω" κάμηλος 
+ἐν τοῖσι ὀπισθίοισι σκέλεσι ἔχει τέσσερας μηροὺς 
+καὶ γούνατα τέσσερα, τά τε αἰδοῖα διὰ τῶν ὀπισ- 
+θίων σκελέων πρὸς τὴν οὐρὴν τετραμμένα. 
+
+104, Οἱ δὲ δὴ ᾿Ινδοὶ τρόπῳ τοιούτῳ καὶ ξεύξι 
+τοιαύτῃ χρεώμενοι ἐλαύνουσι ἐπὶ τὸν χρυσὸν λελο- 
+γισµένως ὅκως καυμάτων τῶν θερμοτώτων ἐόντων 
+ἔσονται ἐν τῇ ἁρπαγῇ" ὑπὸ γὰρ τοῦ καύματος οἱ 
+μύρμηκες ἀφανέες γίνονται ὑπὸ γῆν. θερμότατος 
+δὲ ἐστὶ ὁ ἥλιος τούτοισι τοῖσι ἀνθρώποισι τὸ 
+ἑωθινόν, οὐ κατά περ τοῖσι ἄλλοισι μεσαμβρίης, 
+ἀλλ. ὑπερτείλας μέχρι οὗ ἀγορῆς διαλύσιος. τοῦ- 
+τον δὲ τὸν χρόνον καίει πολλῷ μᾶλλον ἡ τῇ 
+μεσαμβρίῃ τὴν Ἑλλάδα, οὕτω ὥστ᾽ ἐν ὕδατι 
+λόγος αὐτούς ἐστι βρέχεσθαι τηνικαῦτα. μεσοῦσα 
+δὲ ἡ ἡμέρη σχεδὸν παραπλησίως καίει τούς τε 
+ἄλλους ἀνθρώπους καὶ τοὺς Ινδούς. ἀποκλινο- 
+μένης δὲ τῆς μεσαμβρίης γίνεταί σφι ὁ ἥλιος 
+130 
+
+
+BOOK III. 102—104 
+
+
+there. These ants make their dwellings under- 
+ground, digging out the sand in the same manner 
+as do the ants in Greece, to which they are very 
+like in shape, and the sand which they carry forth 
+from the holes is full of gold. It is for this sand 
+that the Indians set forth into the desert. They 
+harness three camels apiece, a male led camel on 
+either side to help in draught, and a female in the 
+middle: the man himself rides on the female, care- 
+ful that when harnessed she has been taken away 
+from as young an offspring as may be. Their 
+camels are as swift as horses, and much better able 
+to bear burdens besides. 
+
+103. I do not describe the camel's appearance to 
+Greeks, for they know it; but I will show them a 
+thing which they do not know concerning it: the 
+hindlegs of the camel have four thighbones and 
+four knee-joints; its privy parts are turned towards 
+the tail between the hindlegs. 
+
+104. Thus and with teams so harnessed the 
+. Indians ride after the gold, using all diligence that 
+they shall be about the business of taking it when 
+the heat is greatest; for the ants are then out of 
+sight underground. Now in these parts the sun is 
+hottest in the morning, not at midday as elsewhere, 
+but from sunrise to the hour of market-closing. 
+Through these hours it is hotter by much than in 
+Hellas at noon, so that men are said to sprinkle 
+themselves with water at this time. At midday the 
+sun’s heat is well nigh the same in India and 
+elsewhere. As it grows to afternoon, the sun of 
+
+131 
+K 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+κατά περ τοῖσι ἄλλοισι ὁ ἑωθινός, καὶ τὸ ἀπὸ 
+τούτου ἀπιὼν ἐπὶ μᾶλλον ψύχει, és ὃ ἐπὶ δυσμῇσι 
+ἐὼν καὶ τὸ κάρτα ψύχει. 
+
+106. ᾿Επεὰν δὲ ἔλθωσι ἐς τὸν χῶρον οἱ Ἰνδοὶ 
+ἔχοντες θυλάκια, ἐμπλήσαντες ταῦτα τῆς άμμου 
+τὴν ταχίστην ἐλαύνουσι ὀπίσω' αὐτίκα γὰρ οἱ 
+μύρημκες ὀδμῇ, ὡς δὴ. λέγεται ὑπὸ Περσέων, 
+μαθόντες διώκουσι. εἶναι δὲ ταχυτῆτα οὐδενὶ 
+ἑτέρῳ ὅμοιον, οὕτω ὥστε, εἰ μὴ προλαμβάνειν τοὺς 
+i sh τῆς ὁδοῦ ἐν ᾧ τοὺς μύρμηκας συλλέγεσθαι, 
+οὐδένα ἂν σφέων ἀποσώζεσθαι. τοὺς μέν νυν 
+ἔρσενας τῶν καμήλων, εἶναι γὰρ ἥσσονας θέειν 
+τῶν θηλέων, παραλύεσθαι ἐπελκομένους, οὐκ 
+ὁμοῦ ἀμφοτέρους" τὰς δὲ θηλέας ἀναμιμνησκο- 
+μένας τῶν ἔλιπον τέκνων ἐνδιδόναι μαλακὸν οὐδέν. 
+τὸν μὲν δὴ πλέω τοῦ ρυσοῦ οὕτω οἱ Ἰνδοὶ 
+κτῶνται, ὡς Πέρσαι dace: ἄλλος δὲ σπανιώτερος 
+ἐστι ἐν τῇ χώρῃ ὀρυσσόμενος. 
+
+106. Αἱ ὃ ἐσχατιαί᾽ κως τῆς οἰκεομένης͵ τὰ 
+κάλλιστα ἔλαχον, κατά περ ἡ Ἑλλὰς τὰς ὥρας 
+πολλόν τι κάλλιστα κεκρημένας ἔλαχε. τοῦτο 
+μὲν γὰρ πρὸς τὴν ἠῶ ἐσχάτη τῶν οἰκεομενέων ἡ 
+Ἰνδική ἐστι, ὥσπερ ὀλίγῳ πρότερον εἴρηκα" ἐν 
+ταύτῃ τοῦτο μὲν τὰ ἔμψυχα, τετράποδά τε καὶ τὰ 
+πετεινά, πολλῷ pelo ἡ ἢ ἐν τοῖσι ἄλλοισι ' χωρίοισι 
+ἐστί, πάρεξ τῶν ἵππων (οὗτοι δὲ ἑσσοῦνται ὑπὸ 
+τῶν Μηδικῶν, Νησαίων δὲ καλευμένων (TOV), 
+τοῦτο δὲ χρυσὸς ἄπλετος αὐτόθι ἐστί, ὃ μὲν 
+ὀρυσσόμενος, ὃ δὲ καταφορεύμενος ὑπὸ ποταμῶν, 
+ὃ δὲ ὦ ὥσπερ ἐσήμηνα ἁρπαξόμενος. τὰ δὲ δένδρεα 
+τὰ ἄγρια, αὐτόθι φέρει καρπὸν εἴρια καλλονῇ 
+τε προφέροντα καὶ ἀρετῇ τῶν ἀπὸ τῶν ὀίων: 
+132 
+
+
+BOOK III. 104-106 
+
+
+India has the power of the morning sun in other : 
+lands; with its sinking the day becomes ever cooler, 
+till at sunset it is exceeding cold. 
+
+105. So when the Indians come to the place with 
+their sacks, they fill these with the sand and 
+ride away back with all speed ; for, as the Persians 
+say, the ants forthwith scent them out and give 
+chase, being, it would seem, so much swifter than 
+all other creatures that if the Indians made not 
+haste on their way while the ants are mustering, not 
+one of them would escape. So they loose the male 
+trace-camels that they lead, one at a time (these 
+being slower than the females); the mares never 
+tire, for they remember the young that they have 
+left. Such is the tale. Most of the gold (say the 
+Persians) is got in this way by the Indians ; there is 
+some besides that they dig from mines in their 
+country, but it is less abundant. 
+
+106. It would seem that the fairest blessings have 
+been granted to the most distant nations of the 
+world, whereas in Hellas the seasons have by much 
+the kindliest temperature. As I have lately said, 
+India lies at the world's most distant eastern limit ; 
+and in India all living creatures four-footed and 
+flying are by much bigger than those of other lands, 
+except the horses, which are smaller than the 
+Median horses called Nesaean; moreover the gold 
+there, whether dug from the earth or brought 
+down by rivers or got as I have shown, is very 
+abundant. There too there grows on wild trees 
+wool more beautiful and excellent than the wool 
+
+
+133 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+καὶ ἐσθῆτι ᾿Ινδοὶ ἀπὸ τούτων τῶν δενδρέων 
+χρέωνται. 
+
+107. Πρὸς, δ᾽ αὖ μεσαμβρίης ἐσχάτη ᾿Αραβίη 
+τῶν οἰκεομενέων χωρέων ἐστί, ἐν δὲ ταύτῃ λιβανω- 
+TOS τε ἐστὶ .μούνῃ χωρέων πασέων φυόμενος καὶ 
+σμύρνη καὶ κασίη καὶ κινάμωμον καὶ λήδανον. 
+ταῦτα πάντα πλὴν τῆς σμύρνης δυσπετέως 
+κτῶνται οἱ ᾿Αράβιοι. τὸν μέν γε λιβανωτὸν 
+συλλέγουσι τὴν στύρακα θυμιῶντες, τὴν ἐς "EA- 
+ληνας Φοίνικες ἐξάγουσι' ταύτην θυμιῶντες λαμ- 
+βάνουσι' τὰ γὰρ δένδρεα ταῦτα τὰ λιβανωτοφόρα 
+ὄφιες ὑπόπτεροι, μικροὶ τὰ μεγάθεα, ποικίλοι τὰ 
+εἴδεα, φυλάσσουσι πλήθεϊ πολλοὶ περὶ δένδρον 
+ἕκαστον, οὗτοι οὗ περ én Αἴγυπτον ἐπιστρα- 
+τεύονται, οὐδενὶ δὲ ἄλλῳ ἀπελαύνονται ἀπὸ τῶν 
+δενδρέων ἢ 7 τῆς στύρακος τῷ καπνφ. 
+
+108. Λέγουσι δὲ καὶ τόδε ᾿Αράβιοι, ὡς πᾶσα 
+ἂν γῆ ἐπίμπλατο τῶν ὀφίων τούτων, εἰ μὴ γί- 
+νεσθαι κατ αὐτοὺς οἷόν. τι κατὰ τὰς ἐχίδνας 
+ἠπιστάμην γίνεσθαι. καί κως τοῦ θείου ἡ προ- 
+νοίη, ὥσπερ καὶ οἰκὸς ἐστι, ἐοῦσα σοφή, ὅσα 
+μὲν ! ψυχήν τε δειλὰ καὶ ἐδώδιμα, ταῦτα 
+μὲν πάντα πολύγονα πεποίηκε, ἵνα μὴ ἐπιλίπῃ 
+κατεσθιόµενα, ὅσα δὲ σχέτλια καὶ ἀνιηρά, ὀλι- 
+: γόγονα. τοῦτο μέν, ὅτι ὁ λαγὸς ὑπὸ παντὸς 
+θηρεύεται θηρίου καὶ ὄρνιθος καὶ ἀνθρώπου, οὕτω 
+δή τι πολύγονον ἐστί" ἐπικυΐσκεται μοῦνον πάν- 
+των θίηρων, καὶ τὸ μὲν δασὺ τῶν τέκνων ἐν τῇ 
+γαστρὶ τὸ δὲ ψιλόν, τὸ δὲ ἄ .ἄρτι ἐν τῇσι μήτρῃσι 
+, τὸ δὲ ἀναιρέεται. τοῦτο μὲν δὴ 
+
+
+ὅσα μὲν γὰρ MSS.; Stein brackets γάρ, which obviously 
+Ae no place here. 
+
+
+134 
+
+
+BOOK III. 106-108 
+
+
+of sheep; these trees supply the Indians with 
+clothing. 
+
+107. Again, Arabia is the most distant to the 
+south of all inhabited countries : and this is the only 
+country which yields frankincense and myrrh and 
+casia and cinnamon and gum-mastich. All these 
+but myrrh are difficult for the Arabians to get. They 
+gather frankincense by burning that storax! which 
+Phoenicians carry to Hellas; this they burn and so 
+get the frankincense ; for the spice-bearing trees are 
+guarded by small winged snakes of varied colour, 
+many round each tree; these are the snakes that 
+attack Egypt. Nothing save the smoke of storax 
+will drive them away from the trees. 
+
+108. The Arabians also say that the whole 
+country would be full of these snakes were it not 
+with them as I have heard that it is with vipers. It 
+would seem that the wisdom of divine Providence 
+(as is but reasonable) has made all creatures prolific 
+that are cowardly and fit to eat, that they be not 
+minished from off the earth by devouring, whereas 
+but few young are born to creatures cruel and 
+baneful. The hare is so prolific, for that it is the 
+prey of every beast and bird and man ; alone of all 
+creatures it conceives in pregnancy; some of the 
+unborn young are hairy, some still naked ; while 
+some are still forming in the womb others are already 
+being chased and killed. But whereas this is so with 
+
+
+1 A kind of gum, producing an acrid smoke when burnt, 
+and therefore used as a disinfectant. 
+
+
+135 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τοιοῦτο ἐστί: ἡ δὲ δὴ λέαινα ἐὸν ἰσχυρότατον καὶ 
+θρασύτατον ἅπαξ ἐν τῷ Bio τίκτει ἕν' τίκτουσα 
+γὰρ συνεκβάλλει τῷ τέκνῳ τὰς μήτρας. τὸ δὲ 
+αἴτιον τούτου τόδε ἐστί" ἐπεὰν ὁ σκύμνος ἐν τῇ 
+μητρὶ ἐὼν ἄρχηται διακινεόµενος, ὃ ὃ δὲ ἔ ἔχων ὄνυχας 
+θηρίων πολλὸν πάντων ὀξυτάτους ἀμύσσει τὰς 
+μήτρας, αὐξόμενός τε δὴ πολλῷ μᾶλλον ἐ ἐσικνέεται 
+καταγράφων' πέλας τε δὴ ὁ τόκος ἐστί, καὶ τὸ 
+παράπαν λείπεται αὐτέων ὑγιὲς οὐδέν. 
+
+109, Ὢς δὲ καὶ οἱ ἔχιδναί τε καὶ οἱ ἐν Apa- 
+βίοισι ὑπόπτεροι ὄφιες εἰ ἐγίνοντο ὡς ἡ φύσις 
+αὐτοῖσι ὑπάρχει, οὐκ ἂν ἦν βιώσιμα ἀνθρώποισι" 
+νῦν δ᾽ ἐπεὰν θορνύωνται κατὰ ξεύγεα καὶ ἐν αὐτῇ 
+j 0 ἔρσην τῇ ἐκποιήσι, ἀπιεμένου αὐτοῦ τὴν γονὴν 
+ἡ θήλεα ἅπτεται τῆς δειρῆς, καὶ ἐμφῦσα οὐκ 
+ἀνιεῖ πρὶν ἂν διαφάγῃ. ὁ μὲν δὴ ἔρσην ἀπο- 
+θνήσκει τρόπῳ τῷ εἰρημένῳ, ἡ δὲ .θήλεα τίσιν 
+τοιήνδε ἀποτίνει τῷ .ἔρσενι" τῷ γονέι τιμωρέοντα 
+ἔτι ἐν τῇ γαστρὶ ἐόντα, τὰ τέκνα διεσθίει τὴν 
+μητέρα, διαφαγόντα δὲ τὴν νηδὺν αὐτῆς οὕτω τὴν 
+ἔκδυσιν ποιέεται. οἱ δὲ ἄλλοι ὄφιες Ἑόντες ἀν- 
+θρώπων οὐ δηλήμονες τίκτουσί τε Qà καὶ ἐκλέ- 
+πουσι πολλόν τι χρῆμα τῶν τέκνων. αἱ μέν νυν 
+ἔχιδναι κατὰ πᾶσαν τὴν γῆν εἰσί, οἱ δὲ ὑπό- 
+πτεροι ὄφιες ἀθρόοι εἰσὶ ἐν τῇ ᾿Αραβίῃ καὶ οὐδαμῇ 
+ἄλλη" κατὰ τοῦτο δοκέουσι πολλοὶ εἶναι. 
+
+110, Τὸν μὲν δὴ λιβανωτὸν τοῦτον οὕτω 
+κτῶνται ᾿Αράβιοι, τὴν δὲ κασίην ὧδε. ἐπεὰν 
+καταδήσωνται Βύρσῃσι καὶ δέρμασι ἄλλοισι πᾶν 
+τὸ σῶμα καὶ τὸ πρόσωπον πλὴν αὐτῶν τῶν 
+ὀφθαλμῶν, ἔρχονται ἐπὶ τὴν karin À, δὲ ἐν 
+λίμνῃ φύεται οὐ βαθέῃ, περὶ δὲ αὐτὴν καὶ ἐν αὐτῇ 
+
+
+136 
+
+
+BOOK III. 108—110 
+
+
+the hare, the lioness, a very strong and bold beast, 
+bears offspring but once in her life, and then but one 
+cub; for the uterus comes out with the cub in the 
+act of birth. This is the reason of it:—when the 
+cub first begins to stir in the mother, its claws, much 
+sharper than those of any other creature, tear the 
+uterus, and as it grows, much more does it scratch 
+and tear, so that when the hour of birth is near 
+seldom is any of the uterus left whole. : 
+
+109. It is so too with vipers and the winged 
+serpents of Arabia: were they born in the natural 
+manner of serpents no life were possible for men; 
+but as it is, when they pair, and the male is in the 
+very act of generation, the female seizes him by the 
+neck, nor lets go her grip till she have devoured 
+him. Thus the male dies; but the female is 
+punished for his death; the young avenge their 
+father, and eat their mother while they are yet 
+within her; nor are they dropped from her till they 
+have devoured her womb. Other snakes, that do no 
+harm to men, lay eggs and hatch out a vast number 
+of young. The Arabian winged serpents do indeed 
+seem to be many ; but it is because (whereas there 
+are vipers in every land) these are all in Arabia and 
+are nowhere else found. 
+
+110. The Arabians get their frankincense as I 
+have shown; for the winning of casia, when they 
+seek it they bind oxhides and other skins over all 
+their bodies and faces, leaving only the eyes. Casia 
+grows in a shallow lake; round this and in it are 
+
+
+137 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+αὐλίζεταί κου θηρία πτερωτά, τῆσι νυκτερίσι 
+προσείκελα μάλιστα, καὶ τέτριγε δεινόν, καὶ ἐς 
+ἀλκὴν ἄλκιμα' τὰ δεῖ ἀπαμυνομένους ἀπὸ τῶν 
+ὀφθαλμῶν οὕτω δρέπειν τὴν κασίην. 
+
+111. Τὸ δὲ δὴ κινάμωμον ἔτι τούτων θωμαστό- 
+τερον συλλέγουσι. ὅκου μὲν γὰρ γίνεται καὶ 
+ἥτις μιν γῆ ἡ τρέφουσα ἐστί, οὐκ ἔχουσι εἰπεῖν, 
+πλὴν ὅτι λόγῳ οὐκότι χρεώμενοι ἐν τοῖσιδε 
+χωρίοισι φασὶ τινὲς αὐτὸ φύεσθαι ἐν τοῖσι ὁ 
+Διόνυσος ἐτράφη: ὄρνιθας δὲ λέγουσι μεγάλας 
+φορέειν ταῦτα τὰ κάρφεα τὰ ἡμεῖς ἀπὸ Φοινίκων 
+μαθόντες κινάμωμον καλέομεν, φορέειν δὲ. τὰς 
+ὄρνιθας ἐς νεοσσιὰς προσπεπλασμένάς ἐκ πηλοῦ 
+' πρὸς ἀποκρήμνοισι ὄρεσι, ἔνθα πρόσβασιν àv- 
+θρώπῳ οὐδεμίαν εἶναι. πρὸς ὧν δὴ ταῦτα τοὺς 
+᾿Αραβίους σοφίξεσθαι τάδε βοῶν τε καὶ ὄνων 
+"τῶν ἀπογινομένων καὶ τῶν ἄλλων ὑποζυγίων τὰ. 
+μέλεα διαταμόντας ὡς μέγιστα κομίξειν ἐς ταῦτα 
+τὰ χωρία, καί σφεα θέντας ἀγχοῦ τῶν νεοσσιέων 
+ἀπαλλάσσεσθαι ἑκὰς αὐτέων: τὰς δὲ ὄρνιθας 
+καταπετομένας | τὰ μέλεα τῶν ὑποζυγίων ava- 
+φορέειν ἐπὶ τὰς νεοσσιάς, τὰς δὲ οὐ δυναμένας 
+ἴσχειν καταρρήγνυσθαι ἐπὶ γῆν, τοὺς δὲ ἐπιόντας 
+συλλέγειν. οὕτω μὲν τὸ κινάμωμον συλλεγό- 
+μενον ἐκ τούτων ἀπικνέεσθαι ἐς τὰς ἄλλας χώρας. 
+
+112. Τὸ δὲ δὴ λήδανον, τὸ καλέουσι ᾿Αράβιοι 
+λάδανον, ἔτι τούτου θωμασιώτερον γίνεται: ἐν 
+γὰρ δυσοδμοτάτῳ γινόμενον εὐωδέστατον ἐστί" 
+τῶν γὰρ αἰγῶν τῶν τράγων ἐν τοῖσι πώγωσι 
+εὑρίσκεται ἐγγινόμενον οἷον γλοιὸς ἀπὸ τῆς ὕλης. 
+χρήσιμον δ᾽ ἐς πολλὰ τῶν μύρων ἐστί, θυμιῶσί τε 
+μάλιστα τοῦτο ᾿Αράβιοι. 
+
+1 καταπετομένας [αὐτῶν] Stein. 
+
+
+138 
+
+
+BOOK III. rro-112 
+
+
+encamped certain winged creatures, very like bats, 
+that squeak shrilly and make a stout resistance ; 
+these must be kept from the men’s eyes if the casia 
+is to be plucked. 
+
+111. As for cinnamon, they gather it in a fashion 
+even stranger. Where it grows and what kind of 
+land nurtures it they cannot say, save that it is 
+reported, reasonably enough, to grow in the places 
+where Dionysus was reared. There are great birds, 
+it is said, that take these sticks which the 
+Phoenicians have taught us to call cinnamon, and 
+carry them off to nests built of mud on the 
+mountain crags, where no man can approach. The 
+Arabian device for defeating the birds is to cut into 
+very large pieces dead oxen and asses and other 
+beasts of burden, then to set these near the eyries, 
+withdrawing themselves far off. The birds then fly 
+down (it is said) and carry the morsels of the beasts 
+up to their nests; which not being able to bear the 
+weight break and fall down the mountain side; and 
+then the Arabians come up and gather what they 
+seek. Thus is cinnamon said to be gathered, and 
+so to come from Arabia to other lands. 
+
+112. But gum-mastich, which Greeks call ledanon 
+and Arabians ladanon, is yet more strangely produced. 
+Its scent is most sweet, yet nothing smells more 
+evilly than that which produces it ; for it is found in 
+the beards of he-goats, forming in them like tree- 
+gum. Thisis usedin the making of many perfumes ; 
+there is nothing that the Arabians so often burn 
+for fragrance. 
+
+
+139 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+113. Τοσαῦτα μὲν θυωμάτων πέρι εἰρήσθω, 
+ἀπόξει δὲ τῆς χώρης τῆς ᾿Αραβίης θεσπέσιον ὡς 
+ἡδύ. δύο δὲ γένεα ὀίων σφι ἐστὶ θώματος ἄξια, τὰ 
+οὐδαμόθι ἑτέρωθι ἐστί. τὸ μὲν αὐτῶν ἕτερον ἔχει 
+τὰς οὐρὰς μακράς, τριῶν πηχέων οὐκ ἐλάσσονας, 
+τὰς εἴ τις ἐπείη σφι 6 ἐπέλκειν, ἕλκεα à ἂν ἔχοιεν « ava- 
+τριβομενέων πρὸς τῇ γῇ τῶν οὐρέων: νῦν δ᾽ ἅπας 
+τις τῶν ποιμένων ἐπίσταται ξυλουργέειν ἐς το- 
+σοῦτο' ἁμαξίδας γὰρ ποιεῦντες ὑποδέουσι αὐτὰς 
+τῇσι οὐρῇσι, ἑνὸς ἑκάστου κτήνεος τὴν οὐρὴν ἐπὶ 
+ἁμαξίδα. ἑκάστην καταδέοντες. τὸ δὲ ἕτερον 
+γένος τῶν ὀίων τὰς οὐρὰς πλατέας φορέουσι καὶ 
+ἐπὶ πῆχυν πλάτος. 
+
+114. Αποκλινομένης δὲ μεσαμβρίης παρήκει 
+πρὸς δύνοντα ἥλιον 7) Αἰθιοπίη χώρη ἐσχάτη τῶν 
+οἰκεομενέων" αὕτη δὲ χρυσόν τε φέρει πολλὸν καὶ 
+irr ἀμφιλαφέας καὶ δένδρεα πάντα ἄγρια 
+καὶ ἔβενον καὶ ἄνδρας μεγίστους καὶ καλλίστους 
+καὶ μακροβιωτάτους. 
+
+115. Αὗται μέν νυν ἔν τε TH Acin ἐσχατιαί 
+εἰσι καὶ ἐν τῇ Λιβύῃ. περὶ δὲ τῶν ἐν τῇ Εὐρώπῃ 
+τῶν πρὸς ἑσπέρην ἐσχατιέων ἔχω μὲν οὐκ ἀτρε- 
+κέως λέγειν" οὔτε γὰρ ἔγωγε ἐνδέκομαι ᾿Ηριδανὸν 
+καλέεσθαι πρὸς βαρβάρων ποταμὸν ἐκδιδόντα ἐς 
+θάλασσαν τὴν πρὸς βορέην ἄνεμον, ἀπ᾽ ὅτευ τὸ 
+ἤλεκτρον φοιτᾶν λόγος ἐστί, οὔτε νήσους οἶδα 
+Κασσιτερίδας ἐούσας, ἐκ τῶν ὁ κασσίτερος ἡμῖν 
+φοιτᾷ. τοῦτο μὲν γὰρ Ò ᾿Ηριδανὸς αὐτὸ katy- 
+γορέει τὸ οὔνομα ὡς ἔστι Ἑλληνικὸν καὶ οὐ βάρ- 
+βαρον, ὑπὸ ποιητέω δὲ τινὸς ποιηθέν" τοῦτο δὲ 
+οὐδενὸς αὐτόπτεω γενομένου δύναμαι ἀκοῦσαι,. 
+τοῦτο μελετῶν, ὅκως θάλασσα ἐστὶ τὰ ἐπέκεινα 
+
+
+140 
+
+
+BOOK II. 115-115 
+
+
+113. I have said enough of the spices of Arabia ; 
+airs wondrous sweet blow from that land. They 
+have moreover two marvellous kinds of sheep, 
+nowhere else found. One of these has tails no less 
+than three cubits long. Were the sheep to trail 
+these after them, they would suffer hurt by the rub- 
+bing of the tails on the ground; but as it is every 
+shepherd there knows enough of carpentry to make 
+little carts which they fix under the tails, binding 
+the tail of each several sheep on its own cart. The 
+other kind of sheep has tails a full cubit broad. 
+
+114. Where south inclines westwards, the part 
+of the world stretching farthest towards the sunset 
+is Ethiopia; here is great plenty of gold, and 
+abundance of elephants, and all woodland trees, 
+and ebony; and the people are the tallest and 
+fairest and longest“lived of all men. 
+
+115. These then are the most distant parts of 
+the world in Asia and Libya. But concerning the 
+farthest western parts of Europe I cannot speak 
+with exactness; for I do not believe that there is a 
+river called by foreigners Eridanus issuing into the 
+northern sea, whence our amber is said to come, 
+nor have I any knowledge of Tin-islands, whence 
+our tin is brought. The very name of the Eridanus 
+bewrays itself as not a foreign but a Greek name, 
+invented by some poet; nor for all my diligence 
+have I been able to learn from one who has seen 
+it that there is a sea beyond Europe. This only we 
+
+
+141 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Εὔρωπης. ἐξ ἐσχάτης δ ὧν ὁ κασσίτερος ἡμῖν 
+φοιτᾷ καὶ τὸ ἤλεκτρον. 
+
+116. Πρὸς δὲ ἄρκτου τῆς Εὐρώπης πολλῷ τι 
+πλεῖστος ρυσὸς φαίνεται ἐών" ὅκως μὲν γινό- 
+μενος, οὐκ ἔχω οὐδὲ τοῦτο ἀτρεκέως εἶπαι, λέγεται 
+δὲ ὑπὲκ τῶν γρυπῶν ἁρπάξειν ᾿Αριμασποὺς ἄν- 
+Spas µουνοφθάλµους. πείθομαι δὲ οὐδὲ τοῦτο 
+ὅκως μουνόφθαλμοι ἄνδρες φύονται, φύσιν ἔ ἔχοντες 
+τὴν ἄλλην ὁμοίην τοῖσι ἄλλοισι ἀνθρώποισι: αἱ 
+δὲ ὧν ἐσχατιαὶ οἴκασι, περικληίουσαι τὴν ἄλλην 
+χώρην καὶ ἐντὸς ἀπέργουσαι, τὰ κάλλιστα 
+δοκέοντα ἡμῖν εἶναι καὶ σπανιώτατα ἔχειν 
+αὗται. 
+
+111. Ἔστι δὲ πεδίον ἐν τῇ Acin περικεκληι- 
+μένον ópei πάντοθεν, διασφάγες δὲ τοῦ ὄρεος 
+εἰσὶ πέντε. τοῦτο τὸ πεδίον ἦν μὲν κοτὲ 
+Xopaa piov, ἐν οὔροισι ἐὸν Χορασμίων τε αὐτῶν 
+καὶ Ὑρκανίων καὶ Πάρθων: καὶ Σαραγγέων 
+καὶ Θαμαναίων, ἐπείτε δὲ Πέρσαι͵ ἔχουσι τὸ 
+κράτος, ἐστὶ τοῦ βασιλέος. ἐκ δὴ ὧν τοῦ περι- 
+κληίοντος ὄρεος τούτου ῥέει ποταμὸς μέγας, 
+οὔνομα δέ οἱ ἐστὶ "Ακης. οὗτος πρότερον μὲν ἄρ- 
+δεσκε διαλελαμμένος πενταχοῦ τούτων τῶν εἰρη- 
+μένων τὰς χώρας, διὰ διασφάγος ἆ ἀγόμενος ἑκάστης 
+ἑκάστοισι" ἐπείτε δὲ ὑπὸ τῷ Πέρσῃ εἰσί, πεπόν- 
+θασι τοιόνδε: τὰς διασφάγας τῶν ὀρέων ἐνδείμας 
+ὁ βασιλεὺς πύλας ἐπ᾿ ἑκάστῃ διασφάγι ἔ έστησε" 
+ἀποκεκληιμένου δὲ τοῦ ὕδατος τῆς ἐξόδου τὸ 
+πεδίον τὸ ἐντὸς τῶν ὀρέων. πέλαγος γίνεται, ἐνδι- 
+δόντος μὲν τοῦ ποταμοῦ, ἔχοντος δὲ οὐδαμῇ 
+ἐξήλυσιν. οὗτοι ὧν ot περ ἔμπροσθε ἐώθεσαν 
+
+
+142 
+
+
+BOOK III. 115-117 
+
+
+know, that our tin and amber come from the most 
+distant parts. 
+
+116. This is also plain, that to the north of 
+Europe there is by far more gold than elsewhere. 
+In this matter again I cannot with certainty say 
+how the gold is got; some will have it that one-eyed 
+men called Arimaspians steal it from griffins. But 
+this too I hold incredible, that there can be men in 
+-all else like other men, yet having but one eye. 
+Suffice it that it is but reasonable that the most 
+distant parts of the world, as they enclose and wholly 
+surround all other lands, should have those things 
+which we deem best and rarest. 
+
+117. There is in Asia a plain surrounded by 
+mountains, through which mountains there are five 
+clefts.! This plain belonged formerly to the Choras- 
+mians; it adjoins the land of the Chorasmians 
+themselves, the Hyrcanians, Parthians, Sarangeis, 
+and Thamanaei; but since the Persians have held 
+sway it has been the king's own land. Now from 
+the encircling mountains flows a great river called 
+Aces. Its stream divides into five channels, and 
+watered formerly the lands of the peoples aforesaid 
+by passing to them severally through the five clefts ; 
+but since the beginning of the Persian rule the king 
+has blocked the mountain clefts, and closed each 
+passage with a gate; the water thus barred from 
+outlet, the plain within the mountains becomes a 
+lake, seeing that the river pours into it and finds 
+no way out. Those therefore who formerly used 
+
+! All this description appears to be purely imaginative. 
+But ‘‘ the idea of the chapter” (say Messrs. How and Wells) 
+** ja quite correct ; the control of irrigation is in the East one 
+
+
+of the prerogatives of government, and great sums are 
+charged for the use of water." 
+
+
+143 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Vadsdu) τῷ ὕδατι, οὐκ ἔχοντες αὐτῷ χρᾶσθαι 
+συμφορῇ | μεγάλῃ. διαχρέωνται. τὸν μὲν γὰρ 
+χειμῶνα ὕει σφι ὁ θεὸς ὥσπερ καὶ τοῖσι ἄλλοισι 
+ἀνθρώποισι, τοῦ δὲ θέρεος σπείροντες μελίνην καὶ 
+σήσαμον χρηίσκονται τῷ ὕδατι. ἐπεὰν ὧν μηδέν 
+σφι rope r τοῦ ὕδατος, ἐλθόντες ἐς τοὺς 
+Πέρσας αὐτοί τε καὶ γυναῖκες, στάντες κατὰ τὰς 
+θύρας τοῦ βασιλέος βοῶσι ὠρυόμενοι, ὁ δὲ βα- 
+σιλεὺς τοῖσι δεομένοισι αὐτῶν μάλιστα ἐντέλ- 
+λεται ἀνοίγειν τὰς πύλας τὰς ἐς τοῦτο φερούσας. 
+ἐπεὰν δὲ : διάκορος ἡ ἡ γῆ σφεων γένηται πίνουσα τὸ 
+ὕδωρ, αὗται μὲν αἱ πύλαι ἀποκλήίονται, ἄλλας 
+δ᾽ ἐντέλλεται ἀνοίγειν ἄλλοισι τοῖσι δεομένοισι 
+μάλιστα τῶν λοιπῶν. ὡς Ò ἐγὼ οἶδα ἀκούσας, 
+χρήματα μεγάλα πρησσόµενος ἀνοίγει πάρεξ τοῦ 
+όρου. 
+
+118. Ταῦτα μὲν δὴ € ἔχει οὕτω. τῶν δὲ τῷ Máyo 
+ἐπαναστάντων ἑπτὰ ἀνδρῶν, ἕνα αὐτῶν Ἰνταφρέ- 
+νεα κατέλαβε ὑβρίσαντα τάδε ἀποθανεῖν αὐτίκα 
+μετὰ τὴν ἐπανάστασιν. ἤθελε ἐς τὰ βασιλήια 
+ἐσελθὼν χρηματίσασθαι τῷ 'Βασιλέι καὶ γὰρ δὴ 
+καὶ ὁ νόμος οὕτω εἶχε, τ τοῖσι ἐπαναστᾶσι τῷ Μάγῳ 
+ἔσοδον εἶναι παρὰ βασιλέα ἄνευ ἀγγέλου, ἦν μὴ 
+γυναικὶ τυγχάνῃ μισγόμενος βασιλεύς. οὔκων 
+νταφρένης ἐδικαίου οὐδένα οἱ ἐσαγγεῖλαι, ἀλλ᾽ 
+ὅτι ἦν τῶν ἑπτά, ἐσιέναι ἤθελε. ὁ δὲ πυλουρὸς 
+καὶ ὁ ἀγγελιηφόρος οὐ περιώρων, φάμενοι τὸν 
+βασιλέα γυναικὶ μίσγεσθαι. o δὲ Ἰνταφρένης 
+δοκέων σφέας ψεύδεα λέγειν ποιέει τοιάδε: σπα- 
+σάμενος τὸν ἀκινάκεα ἆ ἀποτάμνει αὐτῶν τά τε ὦτα 
+καὶ τὰς ῥῖνας, καὶ ἀνείρας περὶ τὸν χαλινὸν τοῦ 
+ἵππου περὶ τοὺς αὐχένας σφέων ἔδησε, καὶ ἀπῆκε. 
+
+
+144 
+
+
+BOOK III. 117-118 
+
+
+the water can use it no longer, and are in very 
+evil case; for whereas in winter they have the rain 
+from heaven like other men, in summer they are 
+in need of the water for their sown millet and 
+sesame. So whenever no water is given to them, 
+they come into Persia with their women, and cry 
+and howl before the door of the king's palace, till 
+the king commands that the river-gate which leads 
+thither should be opened for those whose need is 
+greatest; then, when this land has drunk its fill 
+of water, that gate is shut, and the king bids open 
+another for those of the rest who most require it. 
+I have heard and know that he exacts great sums, 
+over and above the tribute, for the opening of the 
+gates. 
+
+118. So much forthese matters. But Intaphrenes, 
+one of the seven rebels against the Magian, was 
+brought to his death by a deed of violence im- 
+mediately after the rebellion. He desired to enter 
+the palace and speak with the king; for this was 
+the law, that the rebels should come into the king's 
+presence without announcement given, if the king 
+were not with one of his wives. Intaphrenes then 
+claimed his right to enter unannounced, as one of 
+the seven; but the gate-warden and the messenger 
+forbade him, the king being, they said, with one of 
+his wives. Intaphrenes thought they spoke falsely ; 
+drawing his scimitar he cut off their noses and ears, 
+then strung these on his horse's bridle and bound it 
+round the men's necks, and so let them go. 
+
+
+145 
+VOL. If. L 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+119. Ot δὲ τῷ βασιλέι δεικνύουσι ἑωυτοὺς καὶ 
+τὴν αἰτίην εἶπον δι ἣν πεπονθότες εἴησαν. Δαρεῖ- 
+ος δὲ ἀρρωδήσας μὴ κοινῷ λόγφ οἱ êE πεποιηκότες 
+ἔωσι ταῦτα, μεταπεμπόμενος ἕνα ἕκαστον ἀπεπει- 
+ρᾶτο γνώμης, εἰ συνέπαινοι εἰσὶ τῷ πεποιημένῳ. 
+ἐπείτε δὲ ἐξέμαθε ὡς οὐ σὺν κείνοισι εἴη ταῦτα 
+πεποιηκώς, ἔλαθε αὐτόν τε τὸν Ἰνταφρένεα καὶ 
+τοὺς matas αὐτοῦ καὶ τοὺς -οἰκηίους πάντας, 
+ἐλπίδας πολλὰς ἔχων μετὰ τῶν συγγενέων μιν 
+ἐπιβουλεύειν οἱ ἐπανάστασιν, συλλαβὼν δὲ σφέας 
+ἔδησε τὴν ἐπὶ θανάτῳ. ἡ δὲ γυνὴ τοῦ Ἰνταφρέ- 
+νεος φοιτῶσα ἐπὶ τὰς θύρας τοῦ βασιλέος κλαίεσκε 
+ἂν καὶ ὀδυρέσκετο" ποιεῦσα δὲ αἰεὶ τὠυτὸ τοῦτο 
+τὸν Δαρεῖον ἔπεισε οἰκτεῖραΐ μιν. πέμψας δὲ 
+ἄγγελον ἔλεγε τάδε: ‘COQ γύναι, βασιλεύς τοι 
+Δαρεῖος διδοῖ ἕ ἕνα τῶν δεδεµένων οἰκηίων ῥύσασθαι 
+τὸν βούλεαι ἐκ πάντων.” ἣ δὲ βουλευσαμένη 
+ὑπεκρίνετο τάδε" "E μὲν δή μοι διδοῖ βασιλεὺς 
+ἑνὸς τὴν ψυχήν, αἱρέομαι ἐκ πάντων τὸν ἀδελ- 
+$eóv." πυθόμενος δὲ Δαρεῖος ταῦτα καὶ θωμάσας 
+τὸν λόγον, πέμψας ἠγόρευε eQ γύναι, εἰρωτᾷ σε 
+βασιλεύς, τίνα ἔχουσα γνώμην, τὸν ἄνδρα τε καὶ 
+τὰ τέκνα ἐγκαταλιποῦσα, τὸν ἀδελφεὸν εἶλευ 
+περιεῖναί τοι, ὃς καὶ ἀλλοτριώτερός τοι τῶν παίδων 
+καὶ ἧσσον κεχαρισμένος τοῦ ἀνδρός ἐστι." ἣ δ 
+ἀμείβετο τοῖσιδε. Q βασιλεῦ, ἀνὴρ μέν μοι ἂν 
+ἄλλος γένοιτο, εἰ δαίμων ἐθέλοι, καὶ τέκνα ἄλλα, 
+εἰ ταῦτα ἀποβάλοιμι' πατρὸς, δὲ καὶ μητρὸς οὐκέτι 
+μευ ξωόντων ἀδελφεὸς ἂν ἄλλος οὐδενὶ τρόπῳ 
+γένοιτο. ταύτῃ τῇ γνώμῃ χρεωμένη. ἔλεξα ταῦτα. 
+εὖ τε δὴ ἔδοξε τῷ Δαρείῳ εἰπεῖν 7 γυνή, καί οἱ 
+
+ἀπῆκε τοῦτόν τε τὸν παραιτέετο καὶ τῶν παίδω» 
+
+
+146 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΙ. 119 
+
+
+119. They showed themselves to the king and 
+told him the reason why they had been so treated. 
+Darius, fearing that this might be a conspiracy of 
+the six, sent for each severally and questioned 
+him, to know if they approved the deed ; and being 
+assured that they had no part in it, he seized 
+Intaphrenes with his sons and all his household— 
+for he much suspected that the man was plotting 
+a rebellion with his kinsfolk—and imprisoned them 
+with intent to put them to death. Then Intaphrenes’ 
+wife came ever and anon to the palace gates, weeping 
+and lamenting; and at last her continual so doing 
+moved Darius to compassion; and he sent a 
+messenger to tell her that Darius would grant her 
+the life of one of her imprisoned kinsfolk, whom- 
+soever she chose. She, after counsel taken, 
+answered that if this were the king’s boon she chose 
+the life of her brother. Darius was astonished 
+when he heard her answer, and sent one who said 
+to her: * Woman, the king would know for what 
+reason you pass over your husband and your children 
+and choose rather to save the life of your brother, 
+who is less close to you than your children and 
+less dear than your husband." “O King," she 
+answered, “another husband I may get, if heaven 
+so will, and other children, if I lose these; but my 
+father and mother are dead, and so I can by no 
+means get another brother; that is why I have thus 
+spoken." Darius was pleased, and thought the 
+reason good; he delivered to the woman him for 
+
+
+147 
+L 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τὸν πρεσβύτατον, ἡσθεὶς αὐτῇ, τοὺς δὲ ἄλλους 
+ἀπέκτεινε πάντας. τῶν μὲν δὴ ἑπτὰ εἷς αὐτίκα 
+τρόπῳ τῷ εἰρημένῳ ἀπολώλεε. 
+
+120. Κατὰ δέ κου μάλιστα τὴν Καμβύσεω 
+νοῦσον ἐγίνετο τάδε. ὑπὸ Κύρου κατασταθεὶς ἡ ἦν 
+Σαρδίων ὕπαρχος Ὀροίτης ἀνὴρ Πέρσης" οὗτος 
+ἐπεθύμησε πρήγματος οὐκ ὁσίου" οὔτε γάρ τι 
+παθὼν οὔτε ἀκούσας μάταιον ἔπος πρὸς Πολυ- 
+κράτεος τοῦ Σαμίου, οὐδὲ ἰδὼν πρότερον, ἐπεθύμεε 
+λαβὼν αὐτὸν ἀπολέσαι, ὡς μὲν c οἱ πλεῦνες λέγουσι, 
+διὰ τοιήνδε τινὰ αἰτίην. ἐπὶ τῶν βασιλέος θυρέων 
+κατήμενον τόν τε Ὀροίτεα καὶ ἄλλον Πέρσην τῷ 
+οὔνομα εἶναι Μιτροβάτεα, νομοῦ ἄρχοντα τοῦ ἐν 
+Δασκυλείῳ, τούτους ἐκ λόγων ἐς νείκεα OUUTE- 
+σεῖν, κρινομένων ξὲ περὶ ἀρετῆς εἰπεῖν τὸν Μιτρο- 
+βάτεα τῷ Ὀροίτῃ προφίροντα “Eù γὰρ ἐν ἀνδρῶν 
+λόγῳ, ὃς βασιλέι νῆσον Σάμον πρὸς τῷ σῷ νομῷ 
+προσκειμένην οὐ προσεκτήσαο, ὧδε δή τι ἐοῦσαν 
+εὐπετέα χειρωθῆναι, τὴν τῶν τις ἐπιχωρίων πεν- 
+τεκαίδεκα ὁπλίτῃσι ἐπαναστὰς ἔσχε καὶ νῦν αὐτῆς 
+τυραννεύει.᾽ ot μὲν δή μιν φασὶ τοῦτο ἀκούσαντα 
+καὶ ἀλγήσαντα τῷ ὀνείδεῖ ἐπιθυμῆσαι οὐκ οὕτω 
+τὸν εἴπαντα ταῦτα τίσασθαι ὡς Πολυκράτεα 
+πάντως ἀπολέσαι, δι ὄντινα κακῶς ἤκοισε. 
+
+121. Οἱ δὲ ἐλάσσονες λέγουσι πέμψαι Ὀροίτεα 
+ἐς Σάμον κήρυκα. ὅτευ δὴ χρήματος δεησόμενον 
+(οὐ γὰρ à ὧν δὴ τοῦτό γε λέγεται), καὶ τὸν lloXv- 
+κράτεα τυχεῖν κατακείµενον ἐν ἀνδρεῶνι, παρεῖναι 
+δε οἱ καὶ ᾿Ανακρέοντα τὸν Tro: καί κως εἴτ᾽ ἐκ 
+προνοίης αὐτὸν κατηλογέοντα τὰ Ὀροίτεω mph- 
+γµατα, εἴτε καὶ συντυχίη τις τοιαύτη ἐπεγένετο" 
+τόν τε γὰρ κήρυκα τὸν ᾿Ὀροίτεω παρελθόντα 
+
+
+148 
+
+
+BOOK IIl. 119-121 - 
+
+
+whose life she had asked, and the eldest of her 
+sons besides; all the rest he put to death. Thus 
+immediately perished one of the seven. 
+
+120. What I will now relate happened about the 
+time of Cambyses' sickness. The viceroy of Sardis 
+appointed by Cyrus was Oroetes, a Persian. This 
+man purposed to do a great wrong; for though he 
+had received no hurt by deed or word from Polycrates 
+of Samos, nor had even seen him, he formed the 
+desire of seizing and killing him. The reason alleged 
+by most was this:—As Oroetes and another Persian, 
+Mitrobates by name, governor of the province at 
+Dascyleium, sat by the king's door, they fell from 
+talk to wrangling and comparing of their several 
+achievements: and Mitrobates taunted Oroetes, 
+saying, “ You are not to be accounted a man; the 
+island of Samos lies close to your province, yet you 
+have not added it to the king’s dominion—an island 
+so easy to conquer that some native of it rose against 
+his rulers with fifteen men at arms, and is now lord 
+of it."! Some say that Oroetes, angered by this 
+taunt, was less desirous of punishing the utterer of it 
+than of by all means destroying the reason of the 
+reproach, namely Polycrates. 
+
+121. Others (but fewer) say that when Oroetes 
+sent a herald to Samos with some request (it is not 
+said what this was), the herald found Polycrates lying 
+in the men’s apartments, in the company of Anacreon 
+of Teos; and, whether by design to show contempt 
+for Oroetes, or by mere chance, when Oroetes’ herald 
+
+
+1 See ch. 39. 
+149 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+διαλέγεσθαι, καὶ τὸν Πολυκράτεα (τυχεῖν γὰρ 
+ἀπεστραμμένον πρὸς τὸν τοῖχον) οὔτε τι µετα- 
+στραφῆναι οὔτε ὑποκρίνασθαι. 
+
+122. Αἰτίαι μὲν δὴ αὗται διφάσιαι λέγονται 
+τοῦ θανάτου τοῦ Πολυκράτεος γενέσθαι, πάρεστι 
+δὲ πείθεσθαι ὁκοτέρῃ τις βούλεται αὐτέων, ὁ δὲ 
+ὧν Ὀροίτης ἱξόμενος ἐν Μαγνησίῃ τῇ ὑπὲρ Μαι- 
+άνδρου ποταμοῦ οἰκημένῃ ἔπεμπε Μύρσον τὸν 
+Γύγεω ἄνδρα Λυδὸν ἐς Σάμον ἀγγελίην φέροντα, 
+μαθὼν τοῦ Πολυκράτεος τὸν νόον. «Πολυκράτης 
+γὰρ ἐστὶ πρῶτος τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν Ἑλλήνων ὃς 
+/ θαλασσοκρατέειν ἐπενοήθη, πάρεξ Μίνωος τε τοῦ 
+Κνωσσίου καὶ εἰ δή τις ἄλλος πρότερος τούτου 
+ἦρξε. τῆς θαλάσσης: τῆς δὲ ἀνθρωπηίης λεγομένης 
+γενεῆς Πολυκράτης πρῶτος, ἐλπίδας πολλὰς € έχων 
+Ἰωνίης τε καὶ νήσων ἄρξειν. μαθὼν ὧν ταῦτά 
+μιν διανοεύμενον ὁ Ὀροίτης πέμψας ἀγγελίην 
+ἔλεγε τάδε. “ "Ὀροίτης Πολυκράτεϊ ὧδε λέγει. 
+
+πυνθάνομαι ἐπιβουλεύειν σε πρήγμασι μεγάλοισι, 
+καὶ χρήματά τοι οὐκ εἶναι κατὰ τὰ φρονήματα. 
+σύ νυν ὧδε ποιήσας ὀρθώσεις μὲν σεωυτόν, σώσεις 
+δὲ καὶ ἐμέ" ἐμοὶ γὰρ βασιλεὺς Καμβύσης ἐπιβου- 
+λεύει θάνατον, καί μοι τοῦτο ἐξαγγέλλεται σαφη- 
+νέως. σύ νυν ἐμὲ ἐκκομίσας αὐτὸν Kai” χρήματα, 
+τὰ μὲν αὐτῶν αὐτὸς ἔχε, τὰ δὲ ἐμὲ ἔα ἔχειν' 
+εἴνεκέν τε Χρημάτων ἄρξεις ἁπάσης τῆς Ἑλλάδος. 
+εἰ δέ μοι ἀπιστέεις τὰ περὶ τῶν χρημάτων, πέμψον 
+ὅστις τοι πιστότατος τυγχάνει ἐών, τῷ ἐγὼ ἆπο- 
+£o." 
+
+123. Ταῦτα ἀκούσας Πολυκράτης ἥσθη τε καὶ 
+ἐβούλετο" καί κως i ἱμεύρετο γὰρ χρημάτων μεγάλως, 
+ἀποπέμπει πρῶτα κατοψόμενον Μαιάνδριον Μαι- 
+150 
+
+
+BOOK III. 121-123 
+
+
+entered and addressed him, Polycrates, then lying 
+with his face to the wall, never turned nor answered 
+him. 
+
+122. These are the two reasons alleged for Poly- 
+crates' death ; believe which you will. But the up- 
+shot was that Oroetes, being then at Magnesia which 
+stands above the river Maeander, sent Myrsus, 
+son of Gyges, a Lydian, with a message to Samos, 
+having learnt Polycrates' purpose; for Polycrates was 
+the first Greek, of whom I have knowledge, to aim 
+at the mastery of the sea, leaving out of account 
+Minos of Cnossus and any others who before him held 
+maritime dominion; of such as may be called men 
+Polycrates was the first so to do, and he had great 
+hope of making himself master of Ionia and the 
+Islands. Learning then that such was his intent, 
+Oroetes sent him this message : * These from Oroetes 
+to Polycrates :—I learn that you plan great enter- 
+prises, and that you have not money sufficient for your 
+purpose. Do then as I counsel and you will make 
+yourself to prosper and me to be safe. King Cam- 
+byses designs my death; of this I have clear intelli- 
+gence. Now if you will bring me away with my 
+money, you may take part of it for yourself and leave 
+the rest with me; thus shall you have wealth enough 
+to rule all Hellas. If you mistrust what I tell you of 
+the money, send your trustiest minister and I will 
+prove it to him." 
+
+193. Hearing this, Polycrates liked the plan and 
+consented ; and, as it chanced that he had a great 
+desire for money, he first sent one of his townsmen, 
+
+
+ISI 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ανδρίου ἄνδρα τῶν ἀστῶν, ὃς οἱ ἦν γραμματιστής" 
+ὃς χρόνῳ οὐ πολλῷ ὕστερον τούτων τὸν κόσμον 
+τὸν ἐκ τοῦ ἀνδρεῶνος᾽ τοῦ ᾿Πολυκράτεος ἐόντα 
+ἀξιοθέητον ἀνέθηκε πάντα ἐς τὸ "Hpatov. ὁ δὲ 
+Ὀροίτης μαθὼν τὸν κατάσκοπον ἐόντα προσδό- 
+kipov ἐποίεε τοιάδε" λάρνακας ὀκτὼ πληρώσας 
+λίθων πλὴν κάρτα βραχέος τοῦ περὶ αὐτὰ τὰ 
+χείλεα, ἐπιπολῆς τῶν λίθων χρυσὸν ἐπέβαλε, 
+καταδήσας δὲ τὰς λάρνακας εἶχε ἑτοίμας. ἐλθὼν 
+δὲ ὁ Μαιάνδριος καὶ θεησάμενος ἀπήγγελλε τῷ 
+Πολυκράτεϊ. 
+
+194. Ὃ δὲ πολλὰ μὲν τῶν μαντίων ἀπαγορεύ- 
+όντων πολλὰ δὲ τῶν φίλων ἐστέλλετο αὐτόσε, 
+πρὸς δὲ καὶ ἰδούσης τῆς θυγατρὸς ὄψιν ἐνυπνίου 
+τοιήνδε" ἐδόκεε ol τὸν πατέρα ἐν τῷ ἠέρι μετέωρον 
+ἐόντα λοῦσθαι μὲν ὑπὸ τοῦ Διός, χρίεσθαι δὲ ἱ ὑπὸ 
+τοῦ ἡλίου. ταύτην ἰδοῦσα τὴν ὄψιν παντοίη ἐγί- 
+νετο μὴ ἀποδημῆσαι τὸν Πολυκράτεα παρὰ τὸν 
+Ὀροίτεα, καὶ δὴ καὶ ἰόντος αὐτοῦ ἐπὶ τὴν πεντη- 
+κόντερον ἐπεφημίξετο. ὃ δέ οἱ ἠπείλησε, ἣν σῶς 
+ἀπονοστήσῃ, πολλόν μιν. χρόνον παρθενεύεσθαι. 
+f) δὲ ἠρήσατο ἐπιτελέα ταῦτα γενέσθαι: βούλεσθαι 
+γὰρ παρθενεύεσθαι πλέω χρόνον ἡ τοῦ πατρὸς 
+ἐστερῆσθαι. 
+
+125. Πολυκράτης δὲ πάσης συμβουλίης año- 
+γήσας ἔπλεε παρὰ τὸν Ὀροίτεα, ἅμα ἀγόμενος 
+ἄλλους τε πολλοὺς τῶν ἑταίρων, ἐν δὲ δὴ καὶ 
+Δημοκήδεα τὸν Καλλιφῶντος Κροτωνιήτην ἄνδρα, 
+int pov τε ἐόντα καὶ τὴν τέχνην ἀσκέοντα ἄριστα 
+τῶν κατ᾽ ἑωυτόν. ἀπικόμενος δὲ ἐς τὴν Μαγνη- 
+σίην ὃ Πολυκράτης διεφθάρη κακῶς, οὔτε ἑωυτοῦ 
+ἀξίως οὔτε τῶν ἑωυτοῦ φρονημάτων" ὅτι γὰρ μὴ 
+
+
+152 
+
+
+BOOK III. 123-125 
+
+
+Maeandrius, son of Maeandrius, to look into the 
+matter; this man was his scribe; it was he who not 
+long afterwards dedicated in the Heraeum all the 
+splendid adornment of the men's apartment in Poly- 
+crates' house. When Oroetes heard that an inspection 
+was to be looked for, he filled eight chests with stones, 
+saving only a very shallow layer at the top; then he 
+laid gold on the surface of the stones, made the 
+chests fast and kept them ready. Maeandrius came 
+and saw, and brought word back to his master. 
+
+124. Polycrates then prepared to visit Oroetes, 
+despite the strong dissuasion of his diviners and 
+friends, and a vision seen by his daughter in a dream ; 
+she dreamt that she saw her father aloft in the air, 
+washed by Zeus and anointed by the sun; after this 
+vision she used all means to persuade him not to go 
+on this journey to Oroetes ; even as he went to his 
+fifty-oared ship she prophesied evil for him. When 
+Polycrates threatened her that if he came back 
+safe, she should long remain a virgin, she answered 
+with a prayer that his threat might be fulfilled: for 
+she would rather, she said, be long left a virgin than 
+lose her father. 
+
+125. But Polycrates would listen to no counsel. 
+He sailed to meet Oroetes, with a great retinue of 
+followers, among whom was Democedes, son of Calli- 
+phon, a man of Crotona and the most skilful physician 
+of his time. But no sooner had Polycrates come to 
+Magnesia than he was foully murdered, making an 
+end which ill beseemed himself and his pride; for, 
+
+
+153 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οἱ Συρηκοσίων γενόμενοι τύραννοι οὐδὲ εἷς τῶν 
+ἄλλων Ἑλληνικῶν τυράννων ἄξιος ἐστὶ Iov- 
+κράτεϊ μεγαλοπρεπείην συμβληθῆναι. ἀποκτείνας 
+δέ μιν οὐκ ἀξίως ἀπηγήσιος Ὀρούτης ἀνεσταύρωσε' 
+τῶν δέ οἱ ἑπομένων ὅσοι μὲν ἦσαν Σάμιοι, ἀπῆκε, 
+κελεύων σφέας ἑωυτῷ χάριν εἰδέναι ἐόντας éXev- 
+θέρους, ὅσοι δὲ ἦσαν ξεῖνοί τε καὶ δοῦλοι τῶν 
+ἑπομένων, ἐν ἀνδραπόδων λόγῳ ποιεύμενος εἶχε. 
+Πολυκράτης δὲ ἀνακρεμάμενος ἐπετέλεε πᾶσαν 
+τὴν ὄψιν τῆς θυγατρός’ ἐλοῦτο μὲν γὰρ ὑπὸ τοῦ 
+Διὸς ὅκως ὕοι, ἐχρίετο δὲ ὑπὸ τοῦ ἡλίου, ἀνιεὶς 
+αὐτὸς ἐκ τοῦ σώματος ἰκμάδα. 
+
+126. Πολυκῤάτεος μὲν δὴ αἱ πολλαὶ εὐτυχίαι 
+ἐς τοῦτο ἐτελεύτησαν τῇ οἱ Αμασις ὁ Αἰγύπτου 
+βασιλεὺς προεμαντεύσατο.ἲ χρόνῳ δὲ οὐ πολλῷ 
+ὕστερον καὶ Ὀροίτεα Πολυκράτεος τίσιες μετῆλ- 
+θον. μετὰ γὰρ τὸν Καμβύσεω θάνατον καὶ τῶν 
+Μάγων τὴν βασιληίην μένων ἐν τῆσι Σάρδισι 
+Ὀροίτης ὠφέλεε μὲν οὐδὲν Πέρσας ὑπὸ Μήδων 
+ἀπαραιρημένους τὴν ἀρχήν: ὃ δὲ ἐν ταύτῃ τῇ 
+ταραχῇ κατὰ μὲν ἔκτεινε Μιτροβάτεα τὸν ἐκ 
+Δασκυλείου ὕπαρχον, ὅς οἱ ὠνείδισε τὰ ἐς Πολυ- 
+κράτεα ἔχοντα, κατὰ δὲ τοῦ Μιτροβάτεω τὸν 
+παῖδα Κρανάσπην, ἄνδρας ἐν Πέρσῃσι δοκίμους, 
+ἄλλα τε ἐξύβρισε παντοῖα καί τινα ἀγγελιηφόρον 
+ἐλθόντα Δαρείου παρ᾽ αὐτόν, ὡς οὐ πρὸς ἡδονήν 
+οἱ ἦν τὰ ἀγγελλόμενα, κτείνει μιν ὀπίσω κομιξό- 
+μενον, ἄνδρας οἱ ὑπείσας κατ ὁδόν, ἀποκτείνας 
+δέ μιν ἠφάνισε αὐτῷ ἵππῳ. 
+
+1 Stein brackets τῇ... προεμαντεύσατο, because Amasis did 
+
+
+not τν prophesy the details; but the words may well 
+stand. 
+
+
+154 
+
+
+BOOK III. 125-126 
+
+
+saving only the despots of Syracuse, there is no 
+despot of Greek race to be compared with Poly- 
+crates for magnificence. Having killed him (in some 
+way not worth the telling) Oroetes then crucified 
+him ; as for the Samians in his retinue he let them 
+go, bidding them thank Oroetes for their freedom; 
+those who were not Samians, or were servants of 
+Polycrates’ followers, he kept for slaves. So Polycrates 
+was hanged aloft, and thereby his daughter’s dream 
+came true ; for he was washed by Zeus when it rained, 
+and the moisture from his body was his anointment 
+by the sun. 
+
+126. This was the end of Polycrates’ many suc- 
+cesses, as Amasis, king of Egypt, had forewarned 
+him. But not long after, Oroetes was overtaken by 
+the powers that avenged Polycrates. After Cambyses 
+had died and the Magians won the kingship, Oroetes 
+stayed in Sardis, where he in no way helped the 
+Persians to regain the power taken from them by the 
+Medes, but contrariwise; for in this confusion he 
+slew two notable Persians, Mitrobates, the governor 
+from Dascyleium, who had taunted him concerning 
+Polycrates, and Mitrobates’ son, Cranaspes; and be- 
+sides many other violent deeds, when a messenger 
+from Darius came with a message which displeased 
+him, he set an ambush by the way and killed that 
+messenger on his journey homewards, and made away 
+with the man’s body and horse, 
+
+
+155 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+127. Δαρεῖος δὲ ὡς ἔσχε τὴν ἀρχήν, ἐπεθύμεε 
+τὸν Ὀροίτεα τίσασθαι πάντων τῶν ἆ ικημάτων 
+εἵνεκεν καὶ μάλιστα Μιτροβάτεω καὶ τοῦ παιδός. 
+ἐκ μὲν δὴ τῆς ἰθέης στρατὸν ἐπ᾽ αὐτὸν οὐκ ἐδόκεε 
+πέμπειν ἅτε οἰδεόντων ἔτι τῶν πρηγμάτων, καὶ 
+νεωστὶ ἔχων τὴν ἀρχὴν καὶ τὸν Ὀροίτεα, μεγάλην 
+τὴν ἰσχὺν πυνθανόμενος ἔχειν" τὸν χίλιοι μὲν 
+Περσέων ἐδορυφόρεον, εἶ εἶχε δὲ νομὸν τόν τε Φρύγιον 
+καὶ Λύδιον καὶ ᾿Ιωνικόν. πρὸς ταῦτα δὴ ὧν ὁ 
+Δαρεῖος τάδε é ἐμηχανήσατο. συγκαλέσας Περσέων 
+τοὺς | δοκιµωτάτους ἐλεγέ σφι τάδε. ero, Πέρσαι, 
+τίς ἄν HOt τοῦτο ὑμέων ὑποστὰς ἐπιτελέσειε σοφίῃ 
+καὶ μὴ Bin τε καὶ ὁμίλφ; ἔνθα γὰρ σοφίης δέει, 
+βίης ἔργον οὐδέν' .ὑμέων δὲ ὧν τίς μοι ᾿Οροίτεα 
+ἡ ζώοντα ἀγάγοι ἢ ἀποκτείνειε; ὃς ὠφέλησε μέν 
+κω Πέρσας οὐδέν, κακὰ δὲ μεγάλα ἔοργε’ τοῦτο 
+μὲν δύο ἡμέων ἠίστωσε, Μιτροβάτεά τε καὶ τὸν 
+παῖδα αὐτοῦ, τοῦτο δὲ τοὺς ἀνακαλέοντας αὐτὸν 
+καὶ πεμπομένους ὑπ ἐμεῦ κτείνει, ὕβριν οὐκ ava- 
+σχετὸν φαίνων. πρίν τι ὧν μέξον ἐξεργάσασθαί 
+μιν Πέρσας κακόν, καταλαμπτέος ἐστὶ ἡμῖν 
+θανάτῳ." 
+
+128. Δαρεῖος μὲν ταῦτα ἐπειρώτα, τῷ δὲ ἄνδρες 
+τριήκοντα ὑπέστησαν, αὐτὸς ἕκαστος ἐθέλων ποιέ- 
+ειν ταῦτα. ἐρίξοντας δὲ Δαρεῖος κατελάμβανε 
+κελεύων πάλλεσθαι: παλλομένων δὲ λαγχάνει ἐκ 
+πάντων Βαγαῖος ὁ ᾿Αρτόντεω" λαχὼν δὲ ὁ Βαγαῖος 
+ποιέει τάδε" βυβλία γραψάμενος πολλὰ καὶ περὶ 
+πολλῶν ἔ ἔχοντα πρηγμάτων σφ ρηγῖδά σφι ἐπέβαλε 
+τὴν Δαρείου, μετὰ δὲ ἤιε ἔχων ταῦτα ἐς τὰς Σάρδις. 
+ἀπικόμενος δὲ καὶ Ὀροίτεω ἐς ὄψιν ἐλθών, τῶν 
+βυβλίων êv ἕκαστον περιαιρεόµενος ἐδίδου τῷ 
+
+
+156 
+
+
+BOOK III. 127-128 
+
+
+127. So when Darius became king he was minded 
+to punish Oroetes for all his wrongdoing, and chiefly 
+for the killing of Mitrobates and his son. But he 
+thought it best not to send an army openly against 
+the satrap, seeing that all was still in ferment and 
+he himself was still new to the royal power ; moreover 
+he heard that Oroetes was very strong, having a guard 
+of a thousand Persian spearmen and being governor 
+of the Phrygian and Lydian and Ionian province. 
+Resorting therefore to a device to help him, he sum- 
+moned an assembly of the most notable Persians, 
+whom he thus addressed : “ Who is there among you, 
+men of Persia, that will undertake and achieve a thing 
+for me not with force and numbers, but by cunning? 
+Force has no place where cunning is needful. But to 
+the matter in hand—which of you will bring me 
+Oroetes alive, or kill him? for he has done the 
+Persians no good, but much harm ; two of us he has 
+slain, Mitrobates and his son ; nay, and he slays my 
+messengers who are sent to recall him ; so unbearable 
+is the insolence of his acts. Therefore death must 
+stay him from doing the Persians some yet worse evil." 
+
+128. At this question thirty men promised that 
+they were ready each for himself to do the king's will. 
+Darius bade them not contend but draw lots ; they all 
+did so, and the lot fell on Bagaeus, son of Artontes. 
+He, thus chosen, wrote many letters concerning many 
+matters; then sealing them with Darius seal he 
+went with them to Sardis. Coming there into 
+Oroetes' presence he took out each letter severally 
+and gave it to one of the royal scribes who attend all 
+
+
+I57 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+γραμματιστῇ τῷ βασιληίῳ ἐπιλέγεσθαι: γράμμα- 
+τιστὰς δὲ βασιληίους οἱ πάντες ὕπαρχοι ἔχουσι: 
+ἀποπειρώμενος δὲ τῶν δορυφόρων ἐδίδου τὰ βυβλία 
+ὁ Βαγαῖος, εἰ ἐνδεξαίατο ἀπόστασιν ἀπὸ Ὀροίτεω. 
+ὀρέων δὲ σφέας τά τε βυβλία σεβομένους μεγάλως 
+καὶ τὰ λεγόμενα ἐκ τῶν βυβλίων ἔτι μεζόνως, 
+διδοῖ ἄλλο ἐν τῷ ἐνῆν ἔπεα τάδε: SQ Πέρσαι, 
+βασιλεὺς Δαρεῖος ἀπαγορεύει ὑμῖν μὴ δορυφορέειν 
+Ὀροίτεα." οἳ δὲ ἀκούσαντες τούτων μετῆκάν οἱ 
+τὰς αἰχμάς. ἰδὼν δὲ τοῦτο σφέας ὁ Βαγαῖος 
+πειθομένους τῷ βυβλίῳ, ἐνθαῦτα δὴ θαρσήσας τὸ 
+τελευταῖον τῶν βυβλίων διδοῖ τῷ Ὑραμματιστῇ, 
+ἐν τῷ ἐγέγραπτο “Βασιλεὺς Δαρεῖος Πέρσῃσι 
+τοῖσι ἐν Σάρδισι. ἐντέλλεται κτείνειν Ὀροίτεα." 
+οἱ δὲ δορυφόροι ὡς ἤκουσαν ταῦτα, σπασάμενοι 
+τοὺς ἀκινάκας κτείνουσι παραυτίκα μιν, οὕτω 
+| δὴ Ὀροίτεα τὸν Πέρσην Πολυκράτεος τοῦ Σαμίου 
+τίσιες μετῆλθον. 
+
+129. ᾽Απικομένων δὲ καὶ ἀνακομισθέντων τῶν 
+Ὀρούτεω’ χρημάτων È ἐς τὰ Σοῦσα, συνήνεικε χρόνῳ 
+οὐ πολλῷ ὕστερον βασιλέα Δαρεῖον ἐν ἄγρῃ 
+θηρῶν ἀποθρώσκοντα ἀπ’ ἵππου στραφῆναι τὸν 
+πόδα. καί κως ἰσχυροτέρως ἐστράφη" ὁ γάρ οἱ 
+ἀστράγαλος ἐξεχώρησε ἐκ τῶν ἄρθρων. νομίζων 
+δὲ καὶ πρότερον περὶ ἑωυτὸν ἔχειν Αἰγυπτίων 
+τοὺς δοκέοντας εἶναι πρώτους τὴν ἰητρικήν, τού- 
+τοισι ἐχρᾶτο. ot δὲ στρεβλοῦντες καὶ βιώμενοι 
+τὸν. πόδα κακὸν μέξον ἐργάξοντο. ἐπ᾽ ἑπτὰ μὲν 
+δὴ ἡμέρας καὶ ἑπτὰ νύκτας ὑπὸ τοῦ παρεόντος 
+κακοῦ ὁ Δαρεῖος ἀγρυπνίῃσι εἴχετο' τῇ δὲ δὴ 
+ὀγδόῃ ἡμέρῃ ἔχοντί οἱ φλαύρως, παρακούσας τις 
+πρότερον ἔτι ἐν Σάρδισι τοῦ Κροτωνιήτεω Δημο- 
+ις8 
+
+
+BOOK III. 128-129 
+
+
+governors, for him to read; giving the letters 
+with intent to try the spearmen and learn if 
+they would consent to revolt against Oroetes. 
+Seeing that they paid great regard to the rolls 
+and yet more to what was written therein, he gave 
+another, wherein were these words: “Persians! 
+King Darius forbids you to be Oroetes guard," 
+which when the guard heard they threw down 
+their spears. When Bagaeus saw that they obeyed 
+the letter thus far, he took heart and gave the 
+last roll to the scribe, wherein were these words: 
+* King Darius charges the Persians in Sardis to kill 
+Oroetes.” Hearing this the spearmen drew their 
+scimitars and killed Oroetes forthwith. Thus was 
+Oroetes the Persian overtaken by the powers that 
+avenged Polycrates of Samos. 
+
+129. Oroetes’ slaves and other possessions were 
+brought to Susa. Not long after this, it happened 
+that Darius, while hunting, twisted his foot in dis- 
+mounting from his horse, so violently that the ball of 
+the ankle joint was dislocated from its socket. Darius 
+called in the first physicians of Egypt, whom he had 
+till now kept near his person; who, by their forcible 
+wrenching of the foot, did but make the hurt worse ; 
+and for seven days and nights the king could get no 
+sleep for the pain. On the eighth day he was in 
+very evil case; then someone, who had heard in 
+
+. Sardis of the skill of Democedes of Croton, told the 
+
+
+159 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+κήδεος τὴν τέχνην ἀγγέλλει τῷ Δαρείῳ’ ὃ δὲ 
+ἄγειν μιν τὴν ταχίστην παρ᾽ ἑωυτὸν ἐκέλευσε" 
+τὸν δὲ ὡς ἐξεῦρον é ἐν τοῖσι Ὀροίτεω ἀνδραπόδοισε 
+ὅκου δὴ ἀπημελημένον, παρῆγον ἐς μέσον πέδας 
+τε ἕλκοντα καὶ ῥάκεσι ἐσθημένον. 
+
+180. Σταθέντα δὲ ἐς μέσον εἰρώτα ὁ Δαρεῖος 
+τὴν τέχνην εἰ ἐπίσταιτο' ὃ δὲ οὐκ ὑπεδέκετο, 
+ἀρρωδέων μὴ ἑωυτὸν ἐκφήνας τὸ παράπαν τῆς 
+Ἑλλάδος 7 ἀπεστερημένος" κατεφάνη τε 
+τῷ Δαρείῳ τε vate ἐπιστάμενος, καὶ τοὺς 
+ἀγαγόντας αὐτὸν ἐκέλευσε μάστιγάς τε καὶ 
+κέντρα παραφέρειν ἐς τὸ μέσον. ὃ δὲ ἐνθαῦτα 
+δὴ ὧν ἐκφαίνει, φὰς . ἀτρεκέως μὲν οὐκ ἐπί- 
+στασθαι, ὁμιλήσας δὲ i ἰητρῷ φλαύρως ἔχειν τὴν 
+τέχνην. μετὰ δέ, ὥς οἱ ἐπέτρεψε, “Ελληνικοῖσι 
+ἰήμασι χρεώμενος καὶ jma μετὰ τὰ ἰσχυρὰ 
+προσάγων ὕπνου τέ μιν λαγχάνειν ἐποίεε καὶ ἐν 
+χρόνῳ ὀλίγφ .ὑγιέα μιν ἀπέδεξε, οὐδαμὰ ἔτι 
+ἐλπίζοντα ἀρτίπουν ἔσεσθαι. δωρέεται δή μιν 
+μετὰ ταῦτα ὁ Δαρεῖος πεδέων χρυσέων δύο ξεύ- 
+yesi ὃ δέ μων ἐπείρετο εἴ οἱ διπλήσιον τὸ κακὸν 
+ἐπίτηδες νέμει, ὅτι μιν ὑγιέα ἐποίησε. ἡσθεὶς δὲ 
+τῷ ἔπεῖ ὁ Δαρεῖος ἀποπέμπει pw παρὰ τὰς 
+ἑωυτοῦ γυναῖκας" παράγοντες δὲ οἱ εὐνοῦχοι ἔλε- 
+you πρὸς τὰς γυναῖκας ὡς βασιλέι οὗτος ein ὃς 
+τὴν Ψυχὴν ἀπέδωκε. ὑποτύπτουσα δε αὐτέων 
+ἑκάστη φιάλῃ τοῦ χρυσοῦ ἐς θήκην ἐδωρέετο 
+Δημοκήδεα οὕτω δή τι δαψιλέι δωρεῇ ὡς τοὺς 
+ἀποπίπτοντας ἀπὸ τῶν φιαλέων στατῆρας ἐπό- 
+μενος 0 οἰκέτης, τῷ, οὔνομα ἦν Σκίτων, ἀνελέγετο 
+καί οἱ χρῆμα. πολλόν τι χρυσοῦ συνελέχθη. 
+
+
+160 
+
+
+BOOK lll. 129-130 
+
+
+king of him. Darius bade Democedes be brought to 
+him without delay. Finding the physician somewhere 
+all unregarded and forgotten among Oroetes' slaves, 
+they brought him into view, dragging his chains and 
+clad in rags. 
+
+130. When he came before the king, Darius 
+asked him if he had knowledge of his art. 
+Democedes denied it, for he feared that by 
+revealing the truth about himself he would wholly 
+be cut off from Hellas. Darius saw clearly that 
+he was using craft to hide his knowledge, and 
+bade those who led him to bring out ¢courges 
+and goads for him. Then Democedes confessed, in 
+so far as to say that his knowledge was not exact: 
+but he had consorted (he said) with a physician and 
+thereby gained some poor acquaintance with the 
+art. Darius then entrusting the matter to him, 
+Democedes applied Greek remedies and used gentle- 
+ness instead of the Egyptians' violence; whereby 
+he made the king able to sleep and in a little while 
+recovered him of his hurt, though Darius had had no 
+hope of regaining the use of his foot. After this, 
+Darius rewarded him with a gift of two pairs of 
+golden fetters. ‘Is it then your purpose,’ Demo- 
+cedes asked, “to double my pains for my making 
+you whole? " Darius, pleased by his wit, sent him to 
+the king's wives. The eunuchs brought him to the 
+women, saying, * This is he who saved the king's 
+life" ; whereupon each of them took a vessel and, 
+scooping with it from a chest full of gold, so richly 
+rewarded the physician that the servant, whose 
+name was Sciton, collected a very great sum of gold 
+by following and gleaning the staters that fell from 
+the vessels. 
+
+1 Or, that he knew how to practise his art ? 
+
+
+161 
+VOL. II M 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+131. 'O δὲ Δημοκήδης οὗτος ὧδε ἐς Κρότωνος 
+ἀπιγμένος Πολυκράτεϊ ὡμίλησε" πατρὶ συνείχετο 
+ἐν τῇ Κρότωνι ὀργὴν χαλεπῷ". τοῦτον ἐπείτε οὐκ 
+ἐδύνατο φέρειν, ἀπολιπὼν οἴχετο ἐς Αἴγιναν. 
+καταστὰς δὲ ἐς ταύτην πρώτῳ ἔτεϊ ὑπερεβάλετο 
+τοὺς ἄλλους ἰητρούς, ἀσκευής περ ἐὼν καὶ ἔ έχων 
+οὐδὲν τῶν ὅσα περὶ τὴν τέχνην ἐστὶ ἐργαλήια. 
+καί µιν δευτέρῳ ë ἔτεϊ ταλάντου Αἰγινῆται δημοσίῃ 
+μισθοῦνται, τρίτῳ δὲ ἔτεϊ ᾿Αθηναῖοι ἑκατὸν μνέων, 
+τετάρτῳ δὲ ἔτεϊ Πολυκράτης δυῶν ταλάντων. 
+οὕτω μὲν ἀπίκετο ἐς τὴν Σάμον, καὶ ἀπὸ τούτου 
+τοῦ ἀνδρὸς οὐκ ἥκιστα Κροτωνιῆται ἰητροὶ εὖδο- 
+κίμησαν. ἐγένετο γὰρ ὧν τοῦτο ὅτε πρῶτοι μὲν 
+Κροτωνιῆται ἰητροὶ ἐλέγοντο ἀνὰ τὴν Ἑλλάδα 
+εἶναι, δεύτεροι δὲ Κυρηναῖοι, κατὰ τὸν αὐτὸν δὲ 
+τοῦτον χρόνον καὶ ᾿Αργεῖοι ἤκουον μουσικὴν εἶναι 
+'. πρῶτοι." 
+
+. Τότε δὴ ὁ Δημοκήδης ἐν τοῖσι Σούσοισι 
+Ee Δαρεῖον οἶκόν, τε μέγιστον εἶχε καὶ 
+ὁμοτράπεξος βασιλέι ἐγεγόνεε, πλήν τε ἑνὸς τοῦ 
+ἐς "Ελληνας ἀπιέναι πάντα τἆλλά οἱ παρῆν. 
+καὶ τοῦτο μὲν τοὺς Αἰγυπτίους ἰητρούς, ot Ba- 
+σιλέα πρότερον ἰῶντο, μέλλοντας ἀνασκολοπι- 
+εἶσθαι ὅτι ὑπὸ "[ζ2λληνος ζητροῦ ἑσσώθησαν, τού- 
+τους βασιλέα παραιτησάμενος ἐρρύσατο" τοῦτο 
+δὲ μάντιν ᾿Ηλεῖον Πολυκράτεϊ ἐπισπόμενον καὶ 
+ἀπημελημένον ἐν τοῖσι ἀνδραπόδοισι ἐρρύσατο. 
+ἦν δὲ μέγιστον πρῆγμα Δημοκήδης παρὰ βασιλέι. 
+
+133. "Ev χρόνῳ δὲ ὀλίγῳ μετὰ ταῦτα τάδε 
+
+
+1 Stein suspects from ἐγένετο γὰρ to πρῶτοι, but for no very 
+cogent reason ; though the mention of the Argive musicians 
+is certainly irrelevant. 
+
+
+162 
+
+
+BOOK III. 131-133 
+
+
+131. Now this is how Democedes had come from 
+Croton to live with Polycrates: he was troubled with 
+a harsh-tempered father at Croton, whom being unable 
+to bear, he left him and went to Aegina. Settled 
+there, before a year was out, he excelled all the other 
+physicians, although he had no equipment nor any 
+of the implements of his calling. In his second 
+year the Aeginetans ! paid him a talent to be their 
+publie physician; in the next the Athenians hired 
+him for an hundred minae, and Polycrates in the next 
+again for two talents. Thus he came to Samos; and 
+the fame of the Crotoniat physicians was chiefly 
+owing to him ; for at this time the best physicians in 
+Greek countries were those of Croton, and next 
+to them those of Cyrene. About the same time 
+the Argives had the name of being the best 
+musicians. 
+
+132. So now for having healed Darius at Susa 
+Democedes had a very great house and ate at the 
+king's table; all was his, except only permission to 
+return to his Greek home. When the Egyptian 
+chirurgeons who had till now attended on the king 
+were about to be impaled for being less skilful than 
+a Greek, Democedes begged their lives of the king 
+and saved them ; and he saved besides an Elean 
+diviner, who had been of Polycrates’ retinue and was 
+left neglected among the slaves. Mightily in favour 
+with the king was Democedes. 
+
+133. Not long after this, Atossa, Cyrus’ daughter 
+
+! The Aeginetan talent — about 82 Attic minae (60 of 
+which composed the Attic talent). 
+
+j 163 
+M 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἄλλα συνήνεικε γενέσθαι. ᾿Ατόσσῃ τῇ Κύρου 
+μὲν θυγατρὶ Δαρείου δὲ γυναικὶ ἐπὶ τοῦ μαστοῦ 
+ἔφυ poua, | μετὰ δὲ ἐ ἐκραγὲν ἐνέμετο πρόσω. ὅσον 
+μὲν 7) χρόνον ἦν ἔλασσον, 3 δὲ κ ύπτουσα καὶ 
+αἰσχυνομένη ἔφραζε οὐδενί" ἐπείτε Be ἐν κακῷ ἦν, 
+μετεπέμψατο τὸν Δημοκήδεα καί οἱ ἐπέδεξε. ὃ 
+δὲ φὰς ὑγιέα ποιήσειν ἐξορκοῖ μιν 7 μέν οἱ ἀντυ- 
+
+πουργήσειν ἐκείνην τοῦτο τὸ ἂν αὐτῆς δεηθῇ" 
+δεήσεσθαι δὲ οὐδενὸς τῶν ὅσα ἐς αἰσχύνην ἐστὶ 
+φέροντα. 
+
+134. Ὡς δὲ ἄρα μιν μετὰ ταῦτα ἰώμενος ὑγιέα 
+ἀπέδεξε, ἐνθαῦτα δὴ διδαχθεῖσα ὑπὸ τοῦ Δημο- 
+κήδεος ἡ 7 "ATocca προσέφερε ἐν τῇ κοίτῃ Δαρείῳ 
+λόγον τοιόνδε. “ Ὢ βασιλεῦ, ἔχων δύναμιν το- 
+σαύτην κάτησαι, οὔτε τι ἔθνος προσκτώμενος οὔτε 
+δύναμιν Πέρσῃσι. οἰκὸς δὲ ἐστὶ ἄνδρα καὶ νέον 
+καὶ χρημάτων μεγάλων δεσπότην φαίνεσθαί τι 
+ἀποδεικνύμενον, iva καὶ Πέρσαι ἐκμάθωσι ὅτι ὑπ᾽ 
+ἀνδρὸς ἄρχονται. em ἀμφότερα δέ τοι συμφέρει 
+ταῦτα ποιέειν, καὶ ἵνα σφέων Πέρσαι ἐ ἐπίστωνται 
+ἄνδρα εἶναι τὸν προεστεῶτα, καὶ ἵνα τρίβωνται 
+πολέμφ μηδὲ σχολὴν ἄγοντες ἐπιβουλεύωσί τοι. 
+νῦν γὰρ ἄν τι καὶ ἀποδέξαιο ἔ ἔργον, ἕως νέος εἷς 
+ἡλικίην' αὐξομένῳ γὰρ τῷ σώματι συναύξονται 
+καὶ αἱ φρένες, γηράσκοντι δὲ συγγηράσκουσι καὶ 
+ἐς τὰ πρήγματα πάντα ἀπαμβλύνονται." ἣ μὲν 
+δὴ ταῦτα ἐκ διδαχῆς ἔλεγε, ὃ δ᾽ ἀμείβετο τοῖσιδε. 
+“Q γύναι, πάντα ὅσα περ αὐτὸς ἐπινοέω ποιήσειν 
+εἴρηκας" ἐγὼ γὰρ, βεβούλευμαι ζεύξας γέφυραν 
+ἐκ τῆσδε τῆς ἠπείρου ἐς τὴν ἑτέρην ἤπειρον ἐπὶ 
+Σκύθας στρατεύεσθαι: καὶ ταῦτα ὀλίγου χρόνου 
+ἔσται τελεύμενα.᾽ λέγει "Ἄτοσσα τάδε. “ "Opa 
+
+
+164 
+
+
+BOOK III. 133-134 
+
+
+and Darius’ wife, found a swelling growing on her 
+breast, which broke and spread further. As long as 
+it was but a small matter, she said nothing of it but 
+hid it for shame; but presently growing worse, 
+she sent for Democedes and showed it to him. He 
+promised to cure her, but made her to swear that 
+she would requite him by granting whatsoever he 
+requested of her ; saying, that he would ask nothing 
+shameful. l 
+
+134. His remedies having made her whole, Atossa 
+at Democedes’ prompting thus addressed Darius in 
+their chamber : ** Sire, you are a mighty ruler; why 
+sit you idle, winning neither new dominions nor new 
+power for your Persians? If you would have them 
+know that they have a man for their king, it is right 
+and fitting for one of your youth and your wealth to 
+let them see you achieving some great enterprise. 
+Thereby will you gain a double advantage: the 
+Persians will know that their king is truly a man; 
+and in the stress of war they will have no leisure 
+for conspiring against you. Now is your time for 
+achieving great deeds, while you are still young: for 
+as a man's mind grows with his body's growth, so as 
+the body ages the mind too grows older and duller 
+for all uses." Thus she spoke, being so prompted. 
+* Lady," said Darius, * what you say I am already 
+minded to do. I am resolved to make a bridge from 
+this to the other continent and so lead an army 
+against the Scythians ; and in a little while we will 
+set about accomplishing this." ‘See now," Atossa 
+answered, “forbear for the nonce to attack the 
+
+
+165 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+νυν, ἐπὶ Σκύθας μὲν τὴν πρώτην ἰέναι časov: 
+οὗτοι γάρ, ἐπεὰν σὺ βούλη, ἔσονταί του σὺ δέ 
+3 \ c / 4 3 / 
+
+μοι ἐπὶ τὴν Ελλάδα στρατεύεσθαι. ἐπιθυμέω 
+γὰρ λόγῳ πυνθανομένη Λακαίνας TÉ μοι γενέσθαι 
+θεραπαίνας καὶ ᾿Αργείας καὶ ᾿Αττικὰς καὶ Κοριν- 
+θίας. ἔχεις δὲ ἄνδρα ἐπιτηδεότατον ἀνδρῶν 
+πάντων δέξαι τε ἕκαστα τῆς Ἑλλάδος καὶ κατη- 
+γήσασθαι, τοῦτον ὅς σευ τὸν πόδα ἐξιήσατο.᾽ 
+ἀμείβεται Δαρεῖος “ Ὦ γύναι, ἐπεὶ τοίνυν τοι 
+δοκέει τῆς Ἑλλάδος ἡμέας πρῶτα ἀποπειρᾶσθαι, 
+κατασκόπους μοι δοκέει Περσέων, πρῶτον ἄμεινον 
+εἶναι ὁμοῦ τούτῳ τῷ σὺ λέγεις πέμψαι ἐς αὐτούς, 
+οἳ μαθόντες καὶ ἰδόντες ἐξαγγελέουσι ἕκαστα 
+αὐτῶν ἡμῖν' καὶ ἔπειτα ἐξεπιστάμενος ἐπ᾽ αὐτοὺς 
+τρέψομαι.᾽ 
+
+185. Tatra εἶπε καὶ ἅμα ἔπος τε καὶ ἔργον 
+ἐποίεε. ἐπείτε γὰρ τάχιστα. ἡμέρη ἐπέλαμψε, 
+καλέσας Περσέων ἄνδρας οκίµους πεντεκαίδεκα 
+ἐνετέλλετό σφι ἑπομένους Δημοκήδεϊ διεξελθεῖν 
+τὰ παραθαλάσσια τῆς Ἑλλάδος, ὅκως τε μὴ 
+διαδρήσεται σφέας ὁ Δημοκήδης, ἀλλά pw πάν- 
+τως ὀπίσω ἀπάξουσι. ἐντειλάμενος δὲ τούτοισι 
+ταῦτα, δεύτερα καλέσας αὐτὸν Δημοκήδεα ἐδέετο 
+αὐτοῦ ὅκως ἐξηγησάμενος πᾶσαν καὶ ἐπιδέξας 
+τὴν Ἑλλάδα τοῖσι Πέρσῃσι ὀπίσω ἥξει" δῶρα δέ 
+μιν τῷ πατρὶ καὶ τοῖσι ἀδελφεοῖσι ἐκέλευε πάντα 
+τὰ ἐκείνου ἔπιπλα λαβόντα ἄγειν, φὰς ἄλλα οἱ 
+πολλαπλήσια ἀντιδώσῳν: πρὸς δὲ ἐς τὰ δῶρα 
+ὀλκάδα οἱ ἔφη | συμβαλέεσθαι πλήσας ἀγαθῶν 
+παντοίων, τὴν ἅμα οἱ πλεύσεσθαι. Δαρεῖος μὲν 
+δή, δοκέειν ἐμοί, ἀπ᾽ οὐδενὸς δολεροῦ νόου ἐπαγ- 
+γέλλετό οἱ ταῦτα. Δημοκήδης δὲ δείσας μή εὖ 
+166 
+
+
+BOOK III. 134-135 
+
+
+Scythians; you will find them whenever you so 
+desire; nay, rather, I pray you, march against Hellas. 
+I have heard of Laconian and Argive and Attic and 
+Corinthian women, and would fain have them for 
+handmaidens. There is a man by you who is fitter 
+than any other to instruct and guide you in all 
+matters concerning Hellas: I mean the physician 
+who healed your foot." ** Lady," answered Darius, 
+“since it is your desire that we should first try 
+conclusions with Hellas, methinks it is best that we 
+send Persians with the man of whom you speak to 
+spy out the land and bring us news of all that they 
+have seen in it; thus shall I have full knowledge 
+to help my adventure against Hellas." 
+
+135. So said Darius, and it was no sooner said than 
+done. For the next day at dawn he called to him 
+fifteen notable Persians, and bade them go with 
+Democedes and pass along the seaboard of Hellas; 
+charging them, too, by all means to bring the physi- 
+cian back and not suffer him to escape. Having thus 
+charged them he next sent for Democedes himself, 
+and required of him that when he had shown and 
+made clear all Hellas to the Persians, he should come 
+back ; “ And take," said he, “ all your movable goods 
+to give your father and your brethren ; I will give you 
+many times as much in return; and | will send to sail 
+with you a ship of burden with a cargo of all things 
+desirable." Darius, I think, made this promise in all 
+honesty. But Democedes feared lest the king should 
+
+
+167 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐκπειρῷτο Δαρεῖος, οὔτι ἐπιδραμὼν πάντα τὰ 
+διδόμενα ἐδέκετο, ἀλλὰ τὰ μὲν ἑωυτοῦ κατὰ 
+ώρην ἔφη καταλείψειν, ἶνα ὀπίσω σφέα ἀπελ.- 
+ὼν ἔχοι, τὴν μέντοι ὀλκάδα, τήν οἱ Δαρεῖος 
+ἐπαγγέλλετο ἐς τὴν δωρεὴν τοῖσι ἀδελφεοῖσι, 
+δέκεσθαι ἔφη. ἐντειλάμενος δὲ καὶ τούτῳ ταὐτὰ 
+ὁ Δαρεῖος ἀποστέλλει αὐτοὺς ἐπὶ θάλασσαν. 
+
+196. Καταβάντες δὲ οὗτοι ἐς Φοινίκην καὶ 
+Φοινίκης ἐς Σιδῶνα πόλιν αὐτίκα μὲν τριήρεας 
+δύο ἐπλήρωσαν, ἅμα δὲ αὐτῇσι καὶ γαῦλον μέγαν 
+παντοίων ἀγαθῶν" παρεσκευασμένοι δὲ πάντα 
+ἔπλεον ἐς τὴν Ελλάδα, προσίσχοντες δὲ αὐτῆς 
+τὰ παραθαλάσσια ἐθηεῦντο καὶ ἀπεγράφοντο, ἐς 
+ὃ τὰ πολλὰ αὐτῆς καὶ ὀνομαστὰ θεησάµενοι ari- 
+κοντο τῆς Ἰταλίης ἐς Τάραντα. ἐνθαῦτα δὲ ἐκ 
+ῥηστώνης τῆς Δημοκήδεος ᾿Αριστοφιλίδης τῶν 
+Ταραντίνων ὁ βασιλεὺς τοῦτο μὲν τὰ πηδάλια 
+παρέλυσε τῶν Μηδικέων νεῶν, τοῦτο δὲ αὐτοὺς 
+τοὺς Πέρσας εἶρξε ὡς κατασκόπους δῆθεν ἐ ἐόντας. 
+ἐν ᾧ δὲ οὗτοι. ταῦτα ἔπασχον, | ὁ Δημοκήδης ἐς 
+τὴν ᾿Κρότωνα ἀπικνέεται" ἀπιγμένου δὲ ἤδη τού- 
+του ἐς τὴν ἑωυτοῦ ὁ ᾿Δριστοφιλίδης ἔλυσε τοὺς 
+Πέρσας, καὶ τὰ παρέλαβε τῶν νεῶν ἀπέδωκέ 
+ie 
+
+137. Πλέοντες δὲ ἐνθεῦτεν οἱ Πέρσαι καὶ lw- 
+κοντες Δημοκήδεα ἀπικνέονται ἐς Tv Kpórova, 
+εὑρόντες δέ μιν ἀγοράξοντα ἅπτοντο αὐτοῦ. τῶν 
+δὲ Κροτωνιητέων οἳ μὲν καταρρωδέοντες τὰ ITep- 
+σικὰ πρήγματα προϊέναι ἕτοιμοι ἦσαν, οἳ δὲ 
+ἀντάπτοντο καὶ τοῖσι σκυτάλοισι ἔπαιον τοὺς 
+Πέρσας προϊσχομένους ἔπεα τάδε. ''"Άνδρες 
+Κροτωνιῆται, ὁρᾶτε τὰ ποιέετε: ἄνδρα βασιλέος 
+
+
+168 
+
+
+BOOK III. 135-137 
+
+
+be but trying him; therefore he made no haste to 
+accept all that was offered, but answered that he 
+would leave his own possessions where they were, 
+that he might have them at his return; as for the 
+ship which Darius promised him to carry the gifts 
+for his brethren, that he accepted. Having laid 
+this same charge on Democedes also, Darius sent 
+all the company to the coast. 
+
+136. They came down to the city of Sidon in 
+Phoenice, and there chartered two triremes, as well 
+as a great galleon laden with all things desirable ; 
+and when all was ready they set sail for Hellas, 
+where they surveyed and described the coasts 
+to which they came; until having viewed the 
+greater and most famous parts they reached Taras 
+in Italy. There Aristophilides, king of the Taren- 
+tines, willing to do Democedes a kindness, took off 
+the steering gear from the Median ships, and put 
+the Persians under a guard, calling them spies. 
+While they were in this plight Democedes made his 
+way to Croton ; nor did Aristophilides set the Persians 
+free and restore to them what he had taken from 
+their ships, till the physician was by now in his own 
+country. 
+
+137. The Persians sailed from Taras and pursued 
+Democedes to Croton, where they found him buying 
+in the town and were for seizing him. Some Cro- 
+toniats, who feared the Persian power, would have 
+given him up ; but others held him against the king's 
+men and beat them with their staves. “ Nay,’ said 
+the Persians, “look well, men of Croton, what you 
+
+
+169 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δρηπέτην γενόμενον ἐξαιρέεσθε. κῶς ταῦτα a- 
+σιλέι Δαρείῳ ἐκχρήσει περιυβρίσθαι; κῶς δὲ 
+ὑμῖν τὰ ποιεύμενα ἕξει καλῶς, ἦν ἀπέλησθε 
+ἡμέας; ἐπὶ τίνα δὲ τῆσδε προτέρην στρατευσό- 
+μεθα πόλιν; τίνα δὲ προτέρην ἀνδραποδίξεσθαι 
+περιησόμεθα;” ταῦτα λέγοντες τοὺς Κροτωνιήτας 
+οὔκων ἔπειθον, ἀλλ᾽ ἐξαιρεθέντες τε τὸν Δημο- 
+κήδεα καὶ τὸν γαῦλον τὸν ἅμα ἤγοντο ἀπαιρε- 
+θέντες ἀπέπλεον ὀπίσω ἐς τὴν ᾿Ασίην, οὐδ᾽ ἔτι 
+ἐζήτησαν τὸ προσωτέρω τῆς Ἑλλάδος ἆ ἀπικόμενοι 
+ἐκμαθεῖν, ἐ ἐστερήμενοι τοῦ ἡγεμόνος. τοσόνδε μέν- 
+TOL ἐνετείλατό σφι Δημοκήδης .ἀναγομένοισι, κε- 
+λεύων εἰπεῖν σφεας Δαρείῳ ὅτι ἅρμοσται τὴν 
+Μίλωνος θυγατέρα Δημοκήδης γυναῖκα. τοῦ γὰρ 
+δὴ παλαιστέω Μίλωνος ἦν οὔνομα πολλὸν παρὰ 
+βασιλέι" κατὰ δὲ τοῦτό μοι δοκέει σπεῦσαι τὸν 
+γάμον τοῦτον τελέσας χρήματα μεγάλα Δημο- 
+κήδης, ἵνα φανῇ πρὸς Δαρείου ἐὼν καὶ ἐν τῇ ἑωυτοῦ 
+δόκιμος. 
+
+138. ᾿Αναχθέντες δὲ é ἐκ τῆς Κρότωνος οἱ Πέρσαι 
+ἐκπίπτουσι τῆσι νηυσὶ ἐς ᾿Ιηπυγίην, καί σφεας 
+δουλεύοντας, ἐνθαῦτα Γύλλος ἀνὴρ Ταραντῖνος 
+φυγὰς ῥυσάμενος ἀπήγαγε παρὰ Βασιλέα Δα- 
+ρεῖον. ὃ δὲ ἀντὶ τούτων ἕτοιμος ἦν διδόναι τοῦτο 
+ὅ τι βούλοιτο αὐτός. Γίλλος δὲ αἱρέεται κάτοδόν 
+οἱ ἐς Τάραντα γενέσθαι, προαπηγησάµενος τὴν 
+συμφορήν" ἵνα δὲ μὴ συνταράξῃ τὴν Ἑλλάδα, ἡ nv 
+δι αὐτὸν στόλος μέγας TED | ἐπὶ τὴν ᾿Ιταλίην, 
+Κνιδίους μούνους ἀποχρῶν οἱ ἔφη τοὺς κατά- 
+γοντας γίνεσθαι, δοκέων ἀπὸ τούτων ἐ ἐόντων τοῖσι 
+Ταραντίνοισι φίλων μάλιστα τὴν κάτοδόν οἱ 
+ἔσεσθαι. Δαρεῖος δὲ ὑποδεξάμενος ἐπετέλεε' 
+
+
+170 
+
+
+BOOK III. 137-138 
+
+
+do; you are taking from us an escaped slave of the 
+great king; think you that King Darius will rest con- 
+tent under this insolence? Think you that the deed 
+will profit you if you drive us forth? Your city will 
+then be the first that we will attack and essay to 
+enslave.” But the men of Croton paid no heed to 
+them ; so the Persians lost Democedes and the galleon 
+that had been their consort, and sailed back for Asia, 
+making no endeavour to visit and learn of the further 
+parts of Hellas now that their guide was taken from 
+them. But Democedes gave them a message as they 
+were setting sail; they should tell Darius, he said, 
+that Democedes was betrothed to the daughter of 
+Milon. For Darius held the name of Milon the 
+wrestler in great honour; and, to my thinking, the 
+reason of Democedes’ seeking this match and paying 
+a great sum for it was to show Darius that he was a 
+man of estimation in his own country as well as 
+Persia. 
+
+138. The Persians then put out from Croton ; but 
+their ships were wrecked on the Iapygian coast, and 
+they themselves made slaves in the country, until 
+one Gillus, a banished man of Taras, released and 
+restored them to Darius. In return for this the king 
+offered Gillus any reward that he might desire; 
+Gillus told the story of his misfortune, and asked 
+above all to be restored to Taras; but, not willing 
+that a great armament should for his cause sail to 
+Italy and thereby he should help to trouble Hellas, 
+it was enough, he said, that the Cnidians alone should 
+be his escort ; for he supposed that thus the Taren- 
+tines would be the readier to receive him back, the 
+Cnidians being their friends. Darius kept his word, 
+
+
+171 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+πέμψας γὰρ ἄγγελον ἐς Κνίδον κατάγειν σφέας 
+ἐκέλευε Γίλλον ἐς Τάραντα. πειθόμενοι δὲ Δα- 
+ρείῳ Κνίδιοι Ταραντίνους οὔκων ἔπειθον, βίην δὲ 
+ἀδύνατοι ἡ ἦσαν προσφέρειν. ταῦτα μέν νυν οὕτω 
+ἐπρήχθη" οὗτοι. δὲ πρῶτοι ἐκ τῆς ᾿Ασίης ἐς τὴν 
+“Ελλάδα ἀπίκοντο Πέρσαι, καὶ οὗτοι διὰ τοιόνδε 
+πρῆγμα κατάσκοποι | ἐγένοντο. 
+
+139, Μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα Σάμον βασιλεὺς Δαρεῖος 
+αἱρέει, πολίων πασέων πρώτην Ἑλληνίδων καὶ 
+βαρβάρων, διὰ τοιήνδε τινὰ -αὐτίην. Καμβύσεω 
+τοῦ Κύρου στρατευομένου ἐπ᾽ Αἴγυπτον ἄλλοι τε 
+συχνοὶ ἐς τὴν Αἴγυπτον͵ ἀπίκοντο E λλήνων, οἳ 
+μέν, ὡς οἰκός, κατ᾽ -ἐμπορίην στρατευόμενοι, οἳ δὲ 
+τινὲς καὶ αὐτῆς τῆς χώρης θεηταί" τῶν ἦν καὶ 
+Συλοσῶν ὁ Λἰάκεος, Ἡολυκράτεός τε ἑὼν ἀδελφεὸς 
+καὶ φεύγων. ἐκ Σάμου. τοῦτον τὸν Συλοσῶντα 
+κατέλαβε εὐτυχίη τις τοιήδε. λαβὼν χλανίδα 
+καὶ περιβαλόμενος πυρρὴν ἠγόραξε ἐν τῇ Μέμφι 
+ἰδὼν δὲ αὐτὸν Δαρεῖος, δορυφόρος τε ἐὼν Kapn- 
+βύσεω καὶ λόγου οὐδενός κω μεγάλου, ἐπεθύμησε 
+τῆς χλανίδος καὶ αὐτὴν προσελθὼν ὠνέετο. ὁ δὲ 
+Συλοσῶν ὀρέων τὸν Δαρεῖον μεγάλως ἐπιθυμέοντα 
+τῆς χλανίδος, θείῃ τύχῃ χρεώμενος λέγει “᾿Εγὼ 
+ταύτην πωλέω μὲν οὐδενὸς χρήματος, δίδωμι δὲ 
+ἄλλως, εἴ περ οὕτω δεῖ γενέσθαι πάντως τοι.” 
+αἰνέσας ταῦτα ὁ Δαρεῖος παραλαμβάνει τὸ εἶμα. 
+
+140. Ὁ μὲν δὴ Συλοσῶν ἠπίστατο τοῦτό οἱ 
+ἀπολωλέναι δι εὐηθείην. ὡς δὲ τοῦ χρόνου προ- 
+βαίνοντος Καμβύσης τε ἀπέθανε καὶ τῷ Μάγῳ 
+ἐπανέστησαν οἱ ἑπτὰ καὶ ἐκ τῶν ae Aapeios 
+τὴν βασιληίην ἔσχε, πυνθάνεται ὁ Συλοσῶν ὡς 
+
+ἡ βασίληίη περιεληλύθοι ἐς τοῦτον τὸν ἄνδρα τῷ 
+
+
+172 
+
+
+BOOK III. 138-140 
+
+
+and sent a messenger to the men of Cnidos, bidding 
+them bring Gillus back to Taras. They obeyed 
+Darius ; but they could not persuade the Tarentines 
+to their will, and were not able to compel them. 
+This is the whole story. These Persians were the 
+first who came from Asia into Hellas; and they came 
+to view the country for the reason aforesaid. 
+
+139. After this, Darius conquered Samos, the 
+greatest of all city states, Greek or other, the reason 
+of his conquest being this :—When Cambyses, son of 
+Cyrus, invaded Egypt, many Greeks came with the 
+army to that country, some to trade, as was natural, 
+and some to see the country itself; among whom 
+was Syloson, son of Aeaces, Polycrates’ brother, 
+and now banished from Samos. This Syloson had 
+a stroke of good luck. He was in the market 
+at Memphis wearing a red cloak, when Darius, 
+at that time one of Cambyses’ guard and 
+as yet a man of no great account, saw him, and 
+coveting the cloak came and offered to buy it. When 
+Syloson saw Darius’ eagerness, by good luck he was 
+moved to say, “I will not sell you my cloak; but if 
+it must be so, and no help for it, you can have it for 
+nothing." To this Darius agreed and took the 
+garment. 
+
+140. Syloson supposed that he had lost his cloak 
+out of foolish good nature. But in time Cambyses 
+died, the seven rebelled against the Magian, and of 
+the seven Darius came to the throne; Syloson then 
+learned that the successor to the royal power was 
+
+
+173 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+κοτὲ αὐτὸς ἔδωκε ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ δεηθέντι τὸ εἷμα. 
+ἀναβὰς δὲ és τὰ Σοῦσα (tero ἐς τὰ πρόθυρα ` τῶν 
+βασιλέος οἰκίων καὶ ἔφη Δαρείου εὐεργέτης εἶναι. 
+ἀγγέλλει ταῦτα ἀκούσας ὁ πυλουρὸς τῷ βασιλέι: 
+ὃ δὲ θωμάσας λέγει πρὸς αὐτόν “Καὶ τίς ἐστὶ 
+Ἑλλήνων εὐεργέτης τῷ ἐγὼ προαιδεῦμαι, νεωστὶ 
+μὲν τὴν ἀρχὴν ἔχων, ἀναβέβηκε δ᾽ ἤ τις 3 οὐδείς 
+κω παρ᾽ ἡμέας αὐτῶν, ἔχω δὲ .χρέος εὐπεῖν οὐδὲν 
+ἀνδρὸ ὃς "Ελληνος, ὅμως δὲ αὐτὸν παράγετε ἔσω, 
+ἵνα δω τί θέλων λέγει ταῦτα. k παρῆγε ὁ 
+πυλουρὸς τὸν Συλοσῶντα, στάντα δὲ ἐς μέσον 
+εἰρώτων οἱ ἑρμηνέες τίς τε εἴη. καὶ τί ποιήσας 
+εὐεργέτης φησὶ: εἶναι βασιλέος. εἶπε. ὧν ὁ ) Συλοσῶν 
+πάντα τὰ περὶ τὴν χλανίδα γενόμενα, καὶ ὡς 
+αὐτὸς εἴη κεῖνος ὁ δούς. ἀμείβεται πρὸς ταῦτα 
+Δαρεῖος “ Ὢ γενναιότατε ἀνδρῶν, σὺ κεῖνος εἷς ὃς 
+ἐμοὶ οὐδεμίαν ἔχοντί κω δύναμιν ἔδωκας εἰ καὶ 
+σμικρά, ἀλλ) ὧν ἴση γε ἡ χάρις ὁμοίως ὡς εἰ νῦν 
+κοθέν TL μέγα λάβοιµι; ἀντ ὧν τοι χρυσὸν καὶ 
+ἄργυρον ἄπλετον δίδωμι, ὡς μή κοτέ TOL μεταμε- 
+λήσῃ Δαρεῖον τὸν Ὑστάσπεος εὖ ποιήσαντι." 
+λέγει πρὸς ταῦτα ὁ Συλοσῶν “Epo μήτε χρυσὸν 
+ὦ βασιλεῦ μήτε ἄργυρον δίδου, ἀλλ᾽ ἀνασωσά- 
+μενός μοι δὸς τὴν πατρίδα Σάμον, τὴν νῦν ἀδελ- 
+φεοῦ τοῦ ἐμοῦ Πολυκράτεος ἀποθανόντος ὑπὸ 
+᾿Οροίτεω ἔχει δοῦλος ἡμέτερος" ταύτην μοι δὸς 
+ἄνευ τε φόνου καὶ ἐξανδραποδίσιος." 
+
+141. Ἰαῦτα ἀκούσας Δαρεῖος ἀπέστελλε στρα- 
+τιήν τε καὶ στρατηγὸν Ὀτάνεα ἀνδρῶν τῶν ἑπτὰ 
+γενόμενον, ἐντειλάμενος, ὅσων ἐδεήθη ὁ Συλοσῶν, 
+ταῦτά οἱ ποιέειν ἐπιτελέα. καταβὰς δὲ ἐπὶ τὴν 
+θάλασσαν ὁ Ὀτάνης ἔστελλε τὴν στρατιήν. 
+
+
+174 
+
+
+BOOK III. 140-141 
+
+
+the man to whom he had given at request the garment 
+in Egypt; so he went up to Susa and sat at the king’s 
+porch, saying that he was one of Darius’ benefactors. 
+When the gate-ward brought word of this to the 
+king, ** But to what Greek benefactor,” Darius asked, 
+“can I owe thanks? In the little time since I have 
+been king hardly one of that nation has come to us, 
+and I have, so to say, no need of any Greek. Never- 
+theless let him be brought in, that I may know his 
+meaning.” The gate-ward brought Syloson in and 
+set him before them; and the interpreters asked him 
+who he was, and what he had done to call himself 
+the king’s benefactor. Then Syloson told the story 
+of the cloak, and said that it was he who had given 
+it, ‘ Most generous man,” said Darius, “ you are he 
+who made me a present when I had as yet no power; 
+if it was but a little thing, yet it was as thankworthy 
+as if someone now gave me a great gift. Take in 
+requital abundance of gold and silver, that you may 
+never repent of the service you did Darius son of 
+Hystaspes.” “Nay,” Syloson answered, “I ask 
+neither gold, O king, nor silver; only win me back 
+my fatherland of Samos, where my brother Polycrates 
+has been done to death by Oroetes, and our slave 
+now rules; give me back Samos, but so that there be 
+no bloodshed nor enslaving.” 
+
+141. Hearing this Darius sent an army, and Otanes, 
+one of the seven, to command it, charging him to 
+perform all Syloson's will. So Otanes came down to 
+the coast and made his army ready. 
+
+
+175 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+142. Τῆς δὲ Σάμου Μαιάνδριος ὁ Μαιανδρίου 
+εἶχε τὸ κράτος, ἐπιτροπαίην παρὰ ο ο ea 
+λαβὼν τὴν ἀρχήν" τῷ δικαιοτάτῳ ἆ ἀνὸ ὢν BovXo- 
+μένῳ γενέσθαι οὐκ ἐξεγένετο. έπει À γάρ ot 
+ἐξαγγέλθη ὁ ò Πολυκράτεος θάνατος, ἐποίεε τοιάδε: 
+πρῶτα μὲν Διὸς ἐλευθερίου βωμὸν ἱδρύσατο καὶ 
+τέμενος περὶ αὐτὸν οὔρισε τοῦτο τὸ viv ἐν τῷ 
+προαστείῳ ἐστί μετὰ δέ, ὦ ὥς οἱ ἐπεποίητο, ἐκκλη- 
+σίην συναγείρας πάντων τῶν ἀστῶν ἔλεξε τάδε. 
+5 Ἐμοί, ὡς ἴστε καὶ ὑμεῖς, σκῆπτρον καὶ δύναμις 
+πᾶσα À Πολυκράτεος ἐπιτέτραπται, καί μοι παρέ- 
+χει νῦν ὑμέων ἄρχειν. ἐγὼ δὲ τὰ τῷ πέλας ἐπι- 
+πλήσσω, αὐτὸς κατὰ δύναμιν οὐ ποιήσω" οὔτε γάρ 
+μοι Πολυκράτης ἤ ἤρεσκε δεσπόζων ἀνδρῶν ὁμοίων 
+ἑωυτῷ οὔτε ἄλλος ὅστις τοιαῦτα ποιέει. Πολν- 
+Kparns μέν νυν ἐξέπλησε μοῖραν τὴν ἑωυτοῦ, ἐγὼ 
+δὲ ἐς μέσον τὴν ἀρχὴν τιθεὶς ἰ ἰσονομίην ὑμῖν προ- 
+
+
+αγορεύω. τοσάδε μέντοι ικαιῶ γέρεα ἐμεωυτῷ j 
+
+
+γενέσθαι, ἐκ μέν ye τῶν Πολυκράτεος χρημάτων 
+ἐξαίρετα. ἕξ τάλαντά μοι. γενέσθαι, ἱ ἱρωσύνην δὲ 
+πρὸς τούτοισι αἱρεῦμαι αὐτῷ TÉ μοι καὶ τοῖσι ἀπ᾽ 
+ἐμεῦ αἰεὶ γινομένοισι τοῦ Διὸς τοῦ ἐλευθερίου" τῶ 
+αὐτός τε ἱρὸν ἱδρυσάμην καὶ τὴν ἐλευθερίην i ὑμῖν 
+περιτίθημι.᾽ 0 μὲν δὴ ταῦτα τοῖσι Σαμίοισι 
+ἐπαγγέλλετο: τῶν δέ τις ἐξαναστὰς εἶπε “ AAN 
+οὐδ᾽ ἄξιος els σύ γε ἡμέων ἄρχειν, γεγονώς τε 
+κακῶς καὶ ἐὼν ὄλεθρος" ἀλλὰ μᾶλλον ὅκως λόγον 
+δώσεις τῶν μετεχείρισας χρημάτων.” 
+
+143. Tara εἶπε ἐὼν ἐν τοῖσι ἀστοῖσι δόκιμος, 
+τῷ οὔνομα ἦν Τελέσαρ ος, Μαιάνδριος δὲ νόῳ 
+λαβὼν ὡς εἰ μετήσει τὴν ἀρχήν, ἄλλος τις ἀντ᾽ 
+αὐτοῦ τύραννος καταστήσεται, οὐδὲν ἔτι ἐν νόῳ 
+
+
+176 
+
+
+BOOK III. 142-143 
+
+
+142. Now Samos was ruled by Maeandrius, son of 
+Maeandrius, whom Polycrates had made his vice- 
+gerent. This Maeandrius desired to act with all 
+justice, but could not. For when he had news of Poly- 
+crates' death, first he set up an altar to Zeus the 
+Liberator and marked out round it that sacred en- 
+closure which is still to be seen in the suburb of the 
+city ; when this was done, he called an assembly of 
+all the townsfolk, and thus addressed them: “It is 
+known to you that I have sole charge of Polycrates’ 
+sceptre and dominion ; and it is in my power to be 
+your ruler. But, so far as in me lies, I will not my- 
+self do that which I account blameworthy in my 
+neighbour. lever misliked that Polycrates or any 
+other man should lord it over men like to himself. 
+Polycrates has fulfilled his destiny ; for myself, I call 
+you to share all power, and I proclaim equality ; only 
+claiming as my own such privilege that six talents 
+of Polycrates' wealth be set apart for my use, and 
+that I and my descendants have besides the priest- 
+hood of Zeus the Liberator, whose temple I have 
+founded, and I now give you freedom." Such was 
+Maeandrius’ promise to the Samians. But one of 
+them arose and answered: **Nay, but who are you ? 
+You are not worthy to reign over us, being a low-born 
+knave and rascal. See to it rather that you give an 
+account of the moneys that you have handled." 
+
+143. These were the words of Telesarchus, a man 
+of note among the townsfolk. But Maeandrius, per- 
+ceiving that if he let the sovereignty slip someone 
+else would make himself despot instead, resolved 
+
+
+177 
+VOL. II. N 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+εἶχε μετιέναι αὐτήν, ἀλλ᾽ ὡς ἀνεχώρησε ἐς τὴν 
+ἀκρόπολιν, μεταπεμπόμενος ἕνα ἕκαστον ὡς δὴ 
+λόγον τῶν χρημάτων δώσων, συνέλαβε σφέας καὶ 
+κατέδησε. οἳ μὲν δὴ ἐδεδέατο, Μαιάνδριον δὲ 
+μετὰ ταῦτα κατέλαβε νοῦσος. ἐλπίζων δέ μιν 
+ἀποθανέεσθαι ὁ ἀδελφεός, τῷ οὔνομα ἦν Λυκά- 
+pros, ἵνα εὐπετεστέρως κατάσχῃ Ta ἐν τῇ Σάμῳ 
+πρήγματα, κατακτείνει τοὺς δεσμώτας πάντας" 
+ov γὰρ δή, ὡς οἴκασι, ἐβούλοντο εἶναι ἐλεύθεροι. 
+
+144. ᾿Επειδὴ - ὧν ἀπίκοντο ἐς τὴν Σάμον οἱ 
+Πέρσαι κατάγοντες Συλοσῶντα, οὔτε TIS σφι 
+χεῖρας ἀνταείρεται, ὑπόσπονδοί τε ἔφασαν εἶναι 
+ἕτοιμοι οἱ τοῦ Μαιανδρίου στασιῶται καὶ αὐτὸς 
+Μαιάνδριος ἐκχωρῆσαι. ἐκ τῆς νήσου. καταινέ- 
+σαντος ὃ ἐπὶ τούτοισι Ὀτάνεω καὶ σπεισαμένου, 
+τῶν Περσέων οἱ πλείστου ἄξιοι θρόνους θέμενοι 
+κατεναντίον τῆς ἀκροπόλιος κατέατο. 
+
+145, Μαιανδρίῳ δὲ τῷ τυράννῳ ἦν ἀδελφεὸς 
+ὑπομαργότερος, τῷ οὔνομα ἦν Χαρίλεως" οὗτος ὅ 
+Τι δὴ ἐξαμαρτὼν. ἐν γοργύρῃ ἐδέδετο, καὶ δὴ τότε 
+ἐπακούσας τε τὰ πρησσόμενα καὶ διακύψας διὰ 
+τῆς γοργύρης, ὡς εἶδε τοὺς Πέρσας εἰρηναίως 
+κατημένους, ἐβόα τε καὶ ἔφη λέγων Μαιανδρίῳ 
+θέλειν ἐλθεῖν ἐς λόγους. ἐπακούσας δὲ ὁ Μαιάν- 
+δριος λύσαντας αὐτὸν ἐκέλευε ἄγειν παρ᾽ ἑωυτόν" 
+ὡς δὲ ἄχθη τάχιστα, λοιδορέων τε καὶ κακίξων μιν 
+‘née ἐπιθέσθαι τοῖσι Πέρσῃσι, λέγων τοιάδε. 
+"Rue μέν, ὦ κάκιστε ἀνδρῶ», ἐ ἐόντα σεωυτοῦ ἀδελ- 
+dd» καὶ ἀδικήσαντα οὐδὲν ἄξιον δεσμοῦ δήσας 
+γοργύρης ἠξίωσας: ὁρέων δὲ τοὺς Πέρσας ἐκβάλ- 
+λοντάς TÉ σε καὶ ἄνοικον ποιέοντας οὐ τολμᾷς 
+τίσασθαι, οὕτω δή τι ἐόντας εὐπετέας χειρωθῆναι. 
+
+
+178 
+
+
+BOOK III. 143-145 
+
+
+not to give it up. Withdrawing into the citadel, he 
+sent for each man severally, as though to render 
+an account of the money ; then he seized and bound 
+them. So they being in prison, Maeandrius presently 
+fell sick. His brother Lycaretus thought him like 
+to die, and, that so he might the more easily make 
+himself master of Samos, put all the prisoners to 
+death. They had, it would seem, no desire for 
+freedom. 
+
+144. So when the Persians brought Syloson 
+back to Samos, none resisted them, but Maeandrius 
+and those of his faction offered to depart from the 
+island under a flag of truce ; Otanes agreed to this, 
+and the treaty being made, the Persians of highest 
+rank sat them down on seats that they had set over 
+against the citadel. 
+
+145. Now Maeandrius the despot had a crazy 
+brother named Charilaus, who lay bound in the 
+dungeon for some offence; this man heard what 
+was afoot, and by peering through the dungeon 
+window saw the Persians sitting there peaceably ; 
+whereupon he cried with a loud voice that he 
+desired to have speech with Maeandrius. His 
+brother, hearing him, bade Charilaus be loosed 
+and brought before him. No sooner had he been 
+brought than he essayed with much reviling and 
+abuse to persuade Maeandrius to attack the Persians. 
+“Villain,” he cried, “ you have bound and im- 
+prisoned me, your own brother, who had done 
+nothing to deserve it; and when you see the 
+Persians casting you out of house and home, have 
+you no courage to avenge yourself, though you 
+could so easily master them? If you are yourself 
+
+
+179 
+N 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἀλλ᾽. εἴ τοι σὺ σφέας καταρρώδηκας, ἐ ἐμοὶ δὸς τοὺς 
+ἐπικούρους, καί σφεας ἐ ἐγὼ τιμωρήσομαι τῆς ἐνθάδε 
+ἀπίξιος" αὐτὸν δέ σε ἐκπέμψαι ἐκ τῆς νήσου 
+ἕτοιμος εἰμί.᾽ 
+
+146. Ταῦτα δὲ ἔλεξε ὁ . Χαρίλεως" Μαιάνδριος 
+δὲ ὑπέλαβε τὸν λόγον, ὡς .μὲν ἐγὼ δοκέω, οὐκ 
+ἐς τοῦτο ἀφροσύνης ἀπικόμενος ὡς δόξαι τὴν 
+ἑωυτοῦ δύναμιν περιέσεσθαι τῆς βασιλέος, ἀλλὰ 
+φθονήσας μᾶλλον Συλοσῶντι εἰ ἀπονητὶ ἔμελλε 
+ἀπολάμψεσθαι ἀκέραιον τὴν πόλιν, ἐρεθίσας 
+ὧν τοὺς Πέρσας ἤθελε ὡς ἀσθενέστατα ποιῆσαι 
+τὰ Σάμια πρήγματα καὶ οὕτω παραδιδόναι, εὖ 
+ἐξεπιστάμενος ὡς παθόντες οἱ Πέρσαι κακῶς 
+προσεμπικρανέεσθαι ἔμελλον τοῖσι Σαμίοισι, 
+εἰδώς τε ἑωυτῷ ἀσφαλέα ἔκδυσιν ἐοῦσαν ér 
+τῆς νήσου τότε ἐπεὰν αὐτὸς βούληται" ἐπεποί- 
+ητο γάρ οἱ κρυπτὴ διῶρυξ ἐκ τῆς ἀκροπόλιος 
+ο. ἐπὶ θάλασσαν. αὐτὸς μὲν δὴ ὁ ο Matáv- 
+
+ptos ἐκπλέει ἐκ τῆς Σάμου" τοὺς δ᾽ ἐπικούρους 
+
+πάντας ὁπλίσας ὁ Χαρίλεως, καὶ ἀναπετάσας τὰς 
+πύλας, ἐξῆκε ἐπὶ τοὺς Ἠέρσας οὔτε προσδεκοµέ- 
+νους τοιοῦτο οὐδὲν δοκέοντάς᾽ τε δὴ πάντα συμβε- 
+βάναι. ἐμπεσόντες δὲ οἱ ἐπίκουροι τῶν Περδέων 
+τοὺς Sup φροφορευμένους | τε καὶ λόγου πλείστου 
+ἐόντας ἔκτεινον. καὶ οὗτοι μὲν ταῦτα ἐποίευν, ἡ 
+δὲ ἄλλη στρατιὴ ἡ Περσικὴ ἐπεβοήθεε" πιεζεύ- 
+μενοι δὲ οἱ ἐπίκουροι ὀπίσω κατειλήθησαν ἐς τὴν 
+ἀκρόπολιν. 
+
+141. Ὀτάνης δὲ ὁ στρατηγὸς ἰδὼν πάθος μέγα 
+Πέρσας πεπονθότας, ἐντολὰς μὲν τὰς Δαρεῖός οἱ 
+ἀποστέλλων ἐνετέλλετο, μήτε κτείνειν μηδένα 
+Σαμίων μήτε ἀνδραποδίζεσθαι ἀπαθέα τε κακῶν. 
+
+
+18ο 
+
+
+BOOK III. 145-147 
+
+
+afraid of them, give me your foreign guards, and I will 
+punish them for their coming hither; as for you, I 
+will give you safe conduct out of the island.” 
+
+146. Sosaid Charilaus. Maeandrius took his advice. 
+This he did, to my thinking, not that he was so foolish 
+as to suppose that he would be strong enough to van- 
+quish the king, but because he grudged that Syloson 
+should recover Samos safe and whole with no trouble. 
+He desired therefore to anger the Persians and 
+thereby to weaken Samos as much as he might 
+before surrendering it, for he was well aware that 
+if the Persians were harmed they would be bitterly 
+wroth with the Samians. Moreover he knew that 
+he could get himself safe out of the island when- 
+ever he would, having made a secret passage leading 
+from the citadel to the sea. Maeandrius then set 
+sail himself from Samos; but Charilaus armed all the 
+guards, opened the citadel gates, and threw the 
+guard upon the Persians. These supposed that 
+a full agreement had now been made, and were 
+_ taken at unawares; the guard fell upon them and 
+slew the Persians of highest rank, those who were 
+carried in litters. At this the rest of the Persian 
+force came up and pressed the guards hard, driving 
+them into the citadel. 
+
+147. The Persian captain Otanes, seeing the great 
+harm done to the Persians, of set purpose put away 
+from his memory the command given him at his | 
+departure by Darius to kill or enslave no Samian 
+
+
+181 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἀποδοῦναι τὴν νῆσον Συλοσῶντι, τουτέων μὲν τῶν 
+ἐντολέων μεμνημένος ἐπελανθάνετο, ὃ ὃ δὲ παρήγ 
+γειλε τῇ στρατιῇ πάντα τὸν ἂν λάβωσι καὶ ἄνδρα 
+καὶ παῖδα ὁμοίως κτείνειν. ἐνθαῦτα τῆς στρατιῆς 
+οἳ «μὲν τὴν ἀκρόπολιν ἐπολιόρκεον, οἳ δὲ ἔ έκτεινον 
+πάντα τὸν ἐμποδὼν γινόμενον ὁμοίως ἔν τε ἱρῷ καὶ 
+ἔξω ἱροῦ. 
+
+148. Μαιάνδριος δὲ ἀποδρὰς ἐκ τῆς Σάμου 
+ἐκπλέει ἐς Λακεδαίμονα" .ἀπικόμενος δὲ ἐς αὐτὴν 
+καὶ ἀνενεικάμενος τὰ ἔχων ἐξεχώρησε, ἐποίεε 
+τοιάδε" ὅκως ποτήρια ἀργύρεά τε καὶ χρύσεα 
+προθεῖτο, οἱ μὲν θεράποντες αὐτοῦ ἐξέσμων αὐτά, 
+ὃ Ò ἂν τὸν χρόνον τοῦτον τῷ Κλεομένεϊ τῷ ᾿Ανα- 
+ξανδρίδεω ἐν λόγοισι ἐών, βασιλεύοντι Σπάρτης, 
+προῆγέ μιν ἐς τὰ oikia’ ὅκως δὲ ἴδοιτο Κλεομένης 
+τὰ ποτήρια, ἀπεθώμαξέ τε καὶ ἐξεπλήσσετο' ὃ ὃ δὲ 
+ἂν ἐκέλευε αὐτὸν ἀποφέρεσθαι αὐτῶν ὅσα βούλοιτο. 
+τοῦτο καὶ δὶς καὶ τρὶς εἴπαντος Μαιανδρίου ὁ 
+Κλεομένης δικαιότατος ἀνδρῶν γίνεται, ὃς λαβεῖν 
+μὲν διδόμενα᾽ οὐκ ἐδικαίου, μαθὼν δὲ ὡς ἄλλοισι 
+διδοὺς τῶν ἀστῶν εὑρήσεται. τιμωρίην, Bas ἐπὶ 
+τοὺς ἐφόρους ἄμεινον εἶναι ἔφη τῇ Σπάρτῃ τὸν 
+ξεῖνον τὸν Σάμιον ἀπαλλάσσεσθαι ἐκ τῆς Iero- 
+ποννήσου, ἵνα μὴ ἀναπείσῃ ἡ αὐτὸν ἡ ἄλλον τινὲ 
+Σπαρτιητέων κακὸν γενέσθαι. où δ᾽ ὑπακού- . 
+σαντες ἐξεκήρυξαν Μαιάνδριον. 
+
+149. Τὴν δὲ Σάμον [σαγηνεύσαντες]᾽} οἱ Πέρσαι 
+παρέδοσαν Συλοσῶντι ἔρημον ἐοῦσαν ἀνδρῶν. 
+
+
+1 This word may be an interpolation ; the process (form- 
+ing a long line to sweep all before it) is ‘described in detail 
+in Bk. VI. 31, as if that were the first mention of it. More- 
+over, it is inconsistent here with ch. 147. 
+
+
+182 
+
+
+BOOK III. 147-149 
+
+
+but deliver the island unharmed to Syloson ; and he 
+commanded his army to kill all they took, men and 
+boys alike. Then, while some of the Persians laid 
+siege to the citadel, the rest slew all they met, 
+whether in temples or without. 
+
+148. Maeandrius, escaping from Samos, sailed to 
+Lacedaemon ; and when he had come thither and 
+brought the possessions with which he had left his 
+country, it was his custom to make a display of silver 
+and gold drinking cups; while his servants were 
+cleaning these, he would converse with the king of 
+Sparta, Cleomenes son of Anaxandrides, and would 
+bring him to his house. Cleomenes, whenever he 
+saw the cups, marvelling greatly at them, Maeandrius 
+would bid him take away as many of them as he 
+wished. Maeandrius made this offer two or three 
+times ; Cleomenes herein showed his great honesty, 
+that he would not accept it; but, perceiving that 
+there were others in Lacedaemon from whom Maean- 
+drius would get help by offering them the cups, he 
+,went to the ephors and told them it were best 
+for Sparta that this Samian stranger should quit the 
+country, lest he should persuade Cleomenes himself 
+‘or some other Spartan to do evil. The ephors 
+listened to his counsel and banished Maeandrius 
+
+by proclamation. 
+~ 149. As for Samos, the Persians swept it clear 
+and delivered it over uninhabited to Syloson. But 
+
+
+183 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὑστέρῳ μέντοι χρόνῳ καὶ συγκατοίκισε αὐτὴν ὁ 
+στρατηγὸς ᾿Οτάνης ἔκ τε ὄψιος ὁ ὀνείρου καὶ νούσου 
+ἥ μιν κατέλαβε νοσῆσαι τὰ αἰδοῖα. 
+
+150. ᾿Επὶ δὲ Σάμον στρατεύματος ναυτικοῦ 
+οἰχομένου Βαβυλώνιοι ἀπέστησαν, κάρτα εὖ παρε- 
+σκευασμένοι" ἐν ὅσῳ. γὰρ ὅ τε Μάγος ἦρχε καὶ οἱ 
+ἑπτὰ ἐπανέστησαν, ἐν τούτῳ παντὶ τῷ χρόνῳ καὶ 
+τῇ ταραχῇ ἐς τὴν πολιορκίην παρεσκευάζοντο. 
+καί Kos ταῦτα ποιεῦντες ἐλάνθανον. ἐπείτε δὲ 
+ἐκ τοῦ ἐμφανέος ἀπέστησαν, ἐποίησαν τοιόνδε" 
+τὰς μητέρας ἐξελόντες, γυναῖκα ἕκαστος μίαν 
+προσεξαιρέετο τὴν ἐβούλετο ἐ ἐκ τῶν ἑωυτοῦ οἰκίων, 
+τὰς δὲ λοιπὰς ἁπάσας συναγαγόντες ἀπέπνιξαν" 
+τὴν δὲ μίαν ἕκαστος σιτοποιὸν ἐξαιρέετο' amé- 
+πνιξαν δὲ αὐτάς, ἵνα μή σφεων τὸν σῖτον ἀναισι- 
+μώσωσι. 
+
+151. Πυθόμενος δὲ ταῦτα ὁ Δαρεῖος καὶ συλλέ- 
+ξας πᾶσαν τὴν ἑωυτοῦ δύναμιν ἐστρατεύετο én’ 
+αὐτούς, ἐπελάσας δὲ ἐπὶ τὴν Βαβυλῶνα éro- 
+λιόρκεε φροντίζοντας οὐδὲν τῆς πολεορκίης. ἀνα- 
+βαίνοντες γὰρ ἐπὶ τοὺς προμαχεῶνας τοῦ τείχεος 
+οἱ Βαβυλώνιοι κατωρχέοντο καὶ κατέσκωπτον 
+Δαρεῖον καὶ τὴν στρατιὴν αὐτοῦ, καί τις αὐτῶν 
+εἶπε τοῦτο τὸ ἔπος. eT; κάτησθε ὦ Πέρσαι 
+ἐνθαῦτα, ἀλλ᾽ οὐκ ἀπαλλάσσεσθε; τότε γὰρ αἱρή- 
+σετε ἡμέας, ἐπεὰν ἡμίονοι τέκωσι.᾽ τοῦτο εἶπε 
+τῶν τις Βαβυλωνίων οὐδαμὰ ἐλπίζων ἂν ἡμίονον 
+τεκεῖν. 
+
+159. Ἑπτὰ δὲ μηνῶν καὶ ἐνιαυτοῦ .διέληλυ- 
+θότος ἤδη ὁ Δαρεῖός τε ἤσχαλλε καὶ ἡ στρατιὴ ` 
+πᾶσα οὐ δυνατὴ ἐ ἐοῦσα ἑλεῖν τοὺς Βαβυλωνίους. 
+καίτοι πάντα σοφίσματα καὶ πάσας μηχανὰς 
+
+
+184 
+
+
+BOOK III. 149-152 
+
+
+afterwards Otanes, the Persian general, gave his 
+
+aid to settle the land, being moved thereto by a 
+
+dream, and a sickness which attacked his secret 
+rts. 
+
+150. When the fleet had gone to Samos, the 
+Babylonians revolted ;! for which they had made 
+very good preparation ; for during the reign of the 
+Magian, and the rebellion of the seven, they had 
+taken advantage of the time and the disorders to 
+prepare themselves against the siege; and (I cannot 
+tell how) this was unknown. At the last they re- 
+volted openly and did this:—sending away all the 
+mothers, they chose each one woman from his own 
+household, whom he would, as a bread-maker ; as for 
+the rest, they gathered them together and strangled 
+them, that they should not consume their bread. 
+
+151. When Darius heard of this he mustered 
+all his power and led it against Babylon, and he 
+marched to the town and laid siege to it; but the 
+townsmen cared nothing for what he did. They 
+came up on to the bastions of the wall, and mocked 
+Darius and his army with gesture and word ; and 
+this saying came from one of them: * Why sit you 
+there, Persians, instead of departing? You will take 
+our city when mules bear offspring." This said the 
+Babylonian, supposing that no mule would ever bear 
+offspring. 
+
+152. Α year and seven months passed and Darius 
+and all his army were vexed by ever failing to take | 
+Babylon. Yet Darius had used every trick and 
+
+! According to the course of Herodotus' narrative, this 
+revolt would seem to have taken place some considerable 
+time after Darius’ accession (521 B.c.). But the Behistun 
+
+
+inscription apparently makes it one of the earliest events of 
+his reign. 
+
+
+185 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐπεποιήκεε ἐς αὐτοὺς Δαρεῖος". ἀλλ. οὐδ᾽ ὣς ἐδύνατο 
+ἑλεῖν σφεας, ἄλλοισί τε σοφίσμασι πειρησάμενος, 
+καὶ δὴ καὶ τῷ Κῦρος εἷλε «σφέας, καὶ τούτῳ 
+ἐπειρήθη. ἀλλὰ γὰρ, δεινῶς ἢ noay ἐν φυλακῆσι οἱ 
+Βαβυλώνιοι, οὐδὲ σφέας οἷός τε ἦν ἑλεῖν. 
+
+153, ᾿Ενθαῦτα εἰκοστῷ μηνὶ Ζωπύρῳ τῷ Μεγα- 
+βύξου, τούτου ὃς τῶν ἑπτὰ ἀνδρῶν ἐγένετο τῶν 
+τὸν Μάγον κατελόντων, τούτῳ τῷ Μεγαβύζου 
+παιδὶ Ζωπύρῳ ἐγένετο τέρας τόδε: τῶν οἱ σιτο- 
+φόρων ἡμιόνων μία ἔτεκε. ὡς δέ οἱ ἐξαγγέλθη καὶ 
+ὑπὸ ἀπιστίης αὐτὸς ὁ Ζώπυρος εἶδε τὸ βρέφος, 
+ἀπείπας τοῖσι ἰδοῦσι μηδενὶ φράξειν τὸ γεγονὸς 
+ἐβουλεύετο. καί οἱ ` πρὸς Ta τοῦ Βαβυλωνίου 
+ῥήματα, ὃς κατ᾽ ἀρχὰς ἔφησε, ἐπεάν περ ἡμίονοι 
+τέκωσι, τότε τὸ τεῖχος ἁλώσεσθαι, πρὸς (ταύτην 
+τὴν φήμην Ζωπύρῳ é Bocce d εἶναι ἁλώσιμος ἡ Βαβυ- 
+λών' σὺν γὰρ θεῷ ἐκεῖνόν τε εἰπεῖν καὶ ἑωυτῷ 
+τεκεῖν τὴν ἡμίονον. 
+
+154. Ὡς δέ οἱ ἐδόκεε μόρσιμον εἶναι ἤδη τῇ 
+Βαβυλῶνι ἁλίσκεσθαι, προσελθὼν Δαρείου ἀπε- 
+πυνθάνετο εἰ περὶ πολλοῦ κάρτα ποιέεται τὴν 
+Βαβυλῶνα ἑλεῖν. πυθόμενος δὲ ὦ ως πολλοῦ τιμῷτο, 
+ἄλλο ἐβουλεύετο, ὅκως αὐτός τε ἔσται 0 ἑλὼν 
+αὐτὴν καὶ ἑωυτοῦ τὸ ἔργον ἔσται" κάρτα γὰρ ἐν 
+τοῖσι Πέρσῃσι αἱ ἀγαθοεργίαι ἐς τὸ πρόσω μεγά- 
+θεος τιμῶνται. ἄλλῳ μέν νυν οὐκ ἐφράξετο ἔ ἔργῳ 
+δυνατὸς εἶναί μιν ὑποχειρίην ποιῆσαι, εἰ ὃ ἑωυτὸν 
+λωβησάμενος αὐτομολήσειε ἐς αὐτούς. ἐνθαῦτα 
+ἐν ἐλαφρῷ ποιησάμενος ἑωυτὸν λωβᾶται. λώβην 
+ἀνήκεστον" ἀποταμὼν γὰρ ἑωυτοῦ τὴν ῥῖνα καὶ 
+τὰ ὦτα καὶ τὴν κόμην κακῶς περικείρας καὶ µαστι- 
+γώσας ἦλθε παρὰ Δαρεῖον. 
+
+
+186 
+
+
+BOOK III. 152-154 
+
+
+every device against it. He essayed the stratagem 
+whereby Cyrus took the city, and every other 
+stratagem and device, yet with no success; for the 
+Babylonians kept a marvellous strict watch and he 
+could not take them. 
+
+153. But in the twentieth month of the siege 
+a miraculous thing befell Zopyrus, son of that Meg- 
+abyzus who was one of the seven destroyers of the 
+Magian: one of his food-carrying mules bore off- 
+spring. Zopyrus would not believe the news; but 
+when he saw the foal for himself, he bade those 
+who had seen it to tell no one; then taking counsel 
+he bethought him of the Babylonian’s word at the 
+beginning of the siege—that the city would be 
+taken when mules bore offspring—and having this 
+utterance in mind he conceived that Babylon might 
+be taken; for the hand of heaven, he supposed, 
+was in the man's word and the birth from his own 
+mule. 
+
+154. Being then persuaded that Babylon was 
+fated to fall, he came and inquired of Darius if he 
+set great store by the taking of the city ; and when 
+he was assured that this was so he next looked about 
+for a plan whereby the city's fall should be wrought 
+by himself alone ; for good service among the Per- 
+sians is much honoured, and rewarded by high 
+preferment. He could think of no way of mastering 
+the city but to do violence to himself and then 
+desert to the Babylonians ; so he accounted it but a 
+little thing to mishandle himself past cure; cutting 
+off his nose and ears, shaving his head for a dis- 
+figurement, and scourging himself, he came in this 
+guise before Darius. 
+
+
+187 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+155. Δαρεῖος δὲ κάρτα βαρέως ἤνεικε ἰδὼν 
+ἄνδρα δοκιμώτατον λελωβημένον, ἔκ τε τοῦ 
+θρόνου ἀναπηδήσας ἀνέβωσέ τε καὶ εἴρετό μιν 
+ὅστις εἴη ὁ λωβησάμενος καὶ ὅ τι ποιήσαντα. ὃ 
+δὲ εἶπε “Οὐκ ἔστι οὗτος ὠνήρ, ὅτι μὴ σύ, τῷ ἐστὶ 
+δύναμις τοσαύτη ἐμὲ δὴ ὧδε διαθεῖναι: οὐδέ τις 
+ἀλλοτρίων ὦ βασιλεῦ τάδε ἔργασται, ἀλλ᾽ αὐτὸς 
+ἐγὼ ἐμεωυτόν, δεινόν τι ποιεύμενος ᾿Ασσυρίους 
+Πέρσῃσι καταγελᾶν.’ ὃ δ᾽ ἀμείβετο N σχετ- 
+λιώτατε ἀνδρῶν, ἔργῳ τῷ αἰσχίστῳ οὔνομα τὸ 
+κάλλιστον ἔθευ, φὰς διὰ τοὺς πολιορκεομένους 
+σεωυτὸν ἀνηκέστως διαθεῖναι. τί Ò, ὦ μάταιε, 
+λελωβημένου σεῦ θᾶσσον οἱ πολέμιοι παραστή- 
+σονται; κῶς οὐκ ἐξέπλωσας τῶν φρενῶν σεωυτὸν 
+διαφθείρας; ὃ δὲ εἶπε “' Εἰ μέν τοι ὑπερετίθεα τὰ 
+ἔμελλον ποιήσειν, οὐκ ἄν µε περιεῖδες' νῦν δ᾽ ἐπ᾿ 
+ἐμεωυτοῦ βαλόμενος ἔπρηξα. ἤδη ὧν ἦν μὴ τῶν 
+σῶν δεήσῃ, αἱρέομεν Βαβυλῶνα. ἐγὼ μὲν γὰρ ὡς 
+ἔχω αὐτομολήσω ἐς τὸ τεῖχος καὶ φήσω πρὸς 
+αὐτοὺς ὡς ὑπὸ σεῦ τάδε ἔπαθον: καὶ δοκέω, 
+πείσας σφέας ταῦτα ἔχειν οὕτω, τεύξεσθαι στρα- 
+τιῆς. σὺ δέ, ἀπ ἧς ἂν ἡμέρης ἐγὼ ἐσέλθω ἐς 
+τὸ τεῖχος, ἀπὸ ταύτης ἐς δεκάτην ἡμέρην τῆς 
+σεωυτοῦ στρατιῆς, τῆς οὐδεμία ἔσται ὥρη ἀπολ- 
+λυμένης, ταύτης χιλίους τάξον κατὰ τὰς Beut- 
+ράμιος καλεομένας πύλας" μετὰ δὲ αὖτις ἀπὸ τῆς 
+δεκάτης ἐς ἑβδόμην ἄλλους μοι τάξον δισχιλίους 
+κατὰ τὰς Νινίων καλεομένας πύλας" ἀπὸ δὲ τῆς 
+ἑβδόμης διαλείπειν εἴκοσι ἡμέρας, καὶ ἔπειτα 
+ἄλλους κάτισον ἀγαγὼν κατὰ τὰς Χαλδαίων 
+καλεομένας πύλας, τετρακισχιλίους. ἐχόντων δὲ 
+μήτε οἱ πρότεροι μηδὲν τῶν ἀμυνεύντων μήτε 
+
+
+188 
+
+
+BOOK ΠΠ. τες 
+
+
+155. The king was greatly moved at the sight of 
+so notable a man thus mishandled. Leaping up with 
+acry from where he sat he asked Zopyrus who had 
+done him this outrage and why. “ There is no man," 
+answered Zopyrus, *save yourself, who could bring 
+me to this plight; this, O King! is the work of none 
+other but myself; for I could not bear that Persians 
+should be mocked by Assyrians." Darius answered, 
+“ This is but gross cruelty to yourself; if you say 
+that it is to win the city that you have maltreated 
+yourself past cure, you do but give a fair name to 
+a foul deed.  Foolish man! think you that our 
+enemies will yield the sooner for this violence done 
+to you? Nay, you were clean out of your wits to 
+destroy yourself thus." * Had I told you," said 
+Zopyrus, * what I was minded to do, you would 
+have forbidden it; as it is, I have considered 
+with myself alone and done it. Now, then, 
+matters so stand that if you but play your part 
+Babylon is ours. I will in my present plight desert 
+into the city, pretending to them that you have 
+done this violence upon me; and I think that I 
+shall persuade them that this is so, and thus gain 
+the command of an army. Now, for your part, on 
+the tenth day from my entering the city do you take 
+a thousand men from that part of your army whereof 
+you will least rue the loss, and post them before the 
+gate called the gate of Semiramis; on the seventh 
+day after that, post me again two thousand before 
+the gate called the gate of the Ninevites ; and when 
+twenty days are past after that seventh, yet four 
+thousand again before the Chaldean gate, as they 
+call it; suffering neither these, nor the others that 
+have come before them, to carry any weapons of war 
+
+
+189 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οὗτοι, πλὴν ἐγχειριδίων" τοῦτο δὲ ἐᾶν ἔχειν. μετὰ 
+δὲ τὴν εἰκοστὴν ἡμέρην ἰθέως τὴν μὲν ἄλλην 
+στρατιὴν κελεύειν πέριξ προσβάλλειν πρὸς τὸ 
+τείχος, Πέρσας δέ μοι τάξον κατά τε τὰς Βηλίδας 
+καλεομένας καὶ Κισσίας πύλας. ὡς γὰρ ἐγὼ 
+δοκέω, ἐμέο μεγάλα ἔργα ἀποδεξαμένου, τά τε 
+ἄλλα ἐπιτρέψονται ἐμοὶ Βαβυλώνιοι καὶ δὴ καὶ 
+τῶν πυλέων τὰς βαλανάγρας' τὸ δὲ ἐνθεῦτεν ἐμοί 
+τε καὶ Πέρσῃσι μελήσει τὰ δεῖ ποιέειν.᾽ 
+
+156, Ταῦτα ἐντειλάμενος ἤιε ἐπὶ τὰς πύλας, 
+ἐπιστρεφόμενος ὡς δὴ ἀληθέως αὐτόμολος. ὅρων- 
+τες δὲ ἀπὸ τῶν πύργων οἱ κατὰ τοῦτο τεταγμένοι 
+κατέτρεχον κάτω καὶ ὀλίγον τι παρακλίναντες 
+τὴν ἑτέρην πύλην εἰρώτων τίς τε εἴη καὶ ὅτευ 
+δεόμενος ἥκοι. ὃ δέ σφι ἠγόρευε ὡς εἴη τε Zo- 
+πυρος καὶ αὐτομολέοι ἐς ἐκείνους. ἦγον δή μιν οἱ 
+πυλουροί, ταῦτα ὡς ἤκουσαν, ἐπὶ τὰ κοινὰ τῶν 
+Βαβυλωνίων: καταστὰς δὲ ἐπ᾽ αὐτὰ κατοικτίζετο, 
+φὰς ὑπὸ Δαρείου πεπονθέναι τὰ ἐπεπόνθεε ὑπ᾽ 
+ἑωυτοῦ, παθεῖν δὲ ταῦτα διότι συμβουλεῦσαι οἱ 
+ἀπανιστάναι τὴν στρατιήν, ἐπείτε δὴ οὐδεὶς πόρος 
+ἐφαίνετο τῆς ἁλώσιος. “Νῦν te” ἔφη λέγων 
+“ ἐγὼ ὑμῖν ὦ Βαβυλώνιοι ἥκω μέγιστον ἀγαθόν, 
+Δαρείῳ δὲ καὶ τῇ στρατιῇ καὶ Πέρσῃσι μέγιστον 
+κακόν: οὐ γὰρ δὴ ἐμέ γε ὧδε λωβησάμενος κατα- 
+προΐξεται' ἐπίσταμαι δ᾽ αὐτοῦ πάσας τὰς διεξ- 
+όδους τῶν βουλευμάτων.᾽ τοιαῦτα ἔλεγε. 
+
+157. Οἳ δὲ Βαβυλώνιοι ὁρῶντες ἄνδρα τὸν ἐν 
+Πέρσῃσι δοκιμώτατον ῥινός τε καὶ ὥτων ἐστερη- 
+μένον, μάστιξί τε καὶ αἵματι ἀναπεφυρμένον, 
+πάγχυ ἐλπίσαντες λέγειν μιν ἀληθέα καί σφι 
+ἥκειν σύμμαχον, ἐπιτράπεσθαι ἕτοιμοι ἦσαν τῶν 
+190 
+
+
+BOOK III. 155-157 
+
+
+save daggers;leavethemthese. Butimmediately after 
+the twentieth day bid the rest of your army to assault 
+the whole circuit of the walls, and post the Persians 
+before the gate of Belus and the gate called Cissian. 
+For I think that I shall have achieved such exploits 
+that the Babylonians will give into my charge the 
+keys of their gates, and all else besides ; and it will 
+thenceforward be my business and the Persians' to 
+do what is needful.” 
+
+156. With this charge, he went towards the city 
+gate, turning and looking back as though he were 
+in truth a deserter. When the watchers posted on 
+the towers saw him, they ran down, and opening 
+half the gate a little asked him who he was and for 
+what purpose he was come; he told them that he 
+was Zopyrus, come to them as a deserter. Hearing 
+this the gate-wardens brought him before the general 
+assembly of the Babylonians, where he bade them 
+see his lamentable plight, saying of his own work 
+that it was Darius’ doing, because that he had advised 
+the king to lead his army away, seeing that they 
+could find no way to take the city. ** Now,” said he 
+in his speech to them, * I am come greatly to aid 
+you, men of Babylon, and greatly to harm Darius 
+and his army and the Persians ; not unpunished shall 
+he go for the outrage he has wrought upon me ; and 
+I know all the plan and order of his counsels." 
+Thus he spoke. 
+
+157. When the Babylonians saw the most 
+honoured man in Persia with his nose and ears 
+cut off and all bedabbled with blood from the 
+scourging, they were fully persuaded that he spoke 
+truth and was come to be their ally, and were ready 
+to grant him all that he asked, which was, that he 
+
+
+I9I 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐδέετο σφέων" ἐδέετο δὲ στρατιῆς. ὃ δὲ ἐπείτε 
+αὐτῶν τοῦτο παρέλαβε, ἐποίεε τά περ τῷ Δαρείῳ 
+συνεθήκατο" -ἐξαγαγὼν γὰρ τῇ δεκάτῃ ἡμέρη τὴν 
+στρατιὴν τῶν Βαβυλωνίων καὶ κυκλωσάμενος 
+τοὺς χιλίους, τοὺς πρώτους ἐνετείλατο Δαρείῳ 
+τάξαι, τούτους κατεφόνευσε. μαθόντες δέ μιν οἱ 
+Βαβυλώνιοι τοῖσι ἔπεσι τὰ ἔργα . παρεχόμενον 
+ὅμοια, πάγχυ περιχαρέες ἐόντες πᾶν δὴ ἕτοιμοι 
+ἦσαν ὑπηρετέειν. ὃ δὲ διαλιπὼν ἡ ἡμέρας τὰς συγ- 
+κειμένας, αὖτις ἐπιλεξάμενος τῶν Βαβυλωνίων 
+ἐξήγαγε καὶ κατεφόνευσε τῶν Δαρείου στρατιω- 
+τέων τοὺς δισχιλίους. ἰδόντες δὲ καὶ τοῦτο τὸ 
+ἔργον οἱ Βαβυλώνιοι, πάντες Ζώπυρον εἶχον ἐν 
+στόμασι. aivéovres. ὃ δὲ αὖτις διαλιπὼν τὰς 
+συγκειμένας ἡμέρας ἐξήγαγε ἐς τὸ προειρημένον, 
+καὶ κυκλωσάμενος κατεφόνευσε τοὺς τετρακισχι- 
+Movs. ὡς δὲ καὶ τοῦτο κατέργαστο, πάντα δὴ 
+ἦν ἐν τοῖσι, Βαβυλωνίοισι Ζώπυρος, καὶ στρα- 
+τάρχης τε οὗτός σφι καὶ τειχοφύλαξ ἀπεδέδεκτο. 
+158. Ἡροσβολὴν δὲ Δαρείου. κατὰ τὰ συγκεί- 
+μενα ποιευμένου πέριξ τὸ τεῖχος, ἐνθαῦτα δὴ 
+πάντα τὸν δόλον ὁ Ζώπυρος ἐξέφαινε. οἱ μὲν γὰρ 
+Βαβυλώνιοι ἀναβάντες ἐπὶ τὸ τεῖχος ἠμύνοντο 
+τὴν Δαρείου στρατιὴν προσβάλλουσαν, ὁ δὲ 
+Ζώπυρος τάς τε Κισσίας καὶ Βηλίδας καλεομένας 
+πύλας ἀναπετάσας ἐσῆκε τοὺς Πέ σας ἐς τὸ 
+τεῖχος. τῶν δὲ Βαβυλωνίων. οἳ μὲν εἶδον τὸ ποιη- 
+θέν, οὗτοι μὲν ἔφευγον ἐς τοῦ Διὸς τοῦ Βήλου τὸ 
+ἱρόν’ οἳ δὲ οὐκ εἶδον, ἔμενον ἐν τῇ ἑωυτοῦ τάξι 
+ἕκαστος, ἐς ὃ δὴ καὶ οὗτοι ἔμαθον προδεδοµένοι. 
+159. Βαβυλὼν μέν νυν οὕτω τὸ ) δεύτερον αἱρέθη. 
+Δαρεῖος δὲ ἐπείτε ἐκράτησε τῶν Βαβυλωνίων, 
+
+
+192 
+
+
+BOOK III. 157-159 
+
+
+might have an army; and having received this from 
+them he did according to his agreement with Darius. 
+On the tenth day he led out the Babylonian army, 
+and surrounded and put to the sword the thousand. 
+whom he had charged Darius to set first in the 
+field. Seeing that his deeds answered his words, the 
+Babylonians were overjoyed and ready to serve him 
+in every way. When the agreed number of days 
+was past, he led out again a chosen body of Babylon- 
+ians, and slew the two thousand men of Darius’ 
+army. When the Babylonians saw this second feat 
+of arms, the praise of Zopyrus was in every man’s 
+mouth. The agreed number of days being again 
+past, he led out his men to the place he had named, 
+where he surrounded the four thousand and put 
+them to the sword. After this his third exploit, 
+Zopyrus was the one man for Babylon: he was 
+made the captain of their armies and the warden 
+of their walls. 
+
+158. So when Darius assaulted the whole circuit of 
+the wall, according to the agreed plan, then Zopyrus’ 
+treason was fully revealed. For while the townsmen 
+were on the wall defending it against Darius’ assault, 
+he opened the gates called Cissian and Belian, and 
+let in the Persians within the walls. Those Babylon- 
+ians who saw what he did fled to the temple of that 
+Zeus whom they call Belus; those who had not 
+seen it abode each in his place, till they too per- 
+ceived how they had been betrayed. 
+
+159. Thus was Babylon the second time taken. 
+Having mastered the Babylonians, Darius destroyed 
+
+
+193 
+VOL, 11. ο 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τοῦτο μὲν σφέων τὸ τεῖχος περιεῖλε καὶ τὰς πύλας 
+πάσας ἀπέσπασε' τὸ γὰρ πρότερον ἑλὼν Kópos 
+τὴν Βαβυλῶνα ἐποίησε τούτων οὐδέτερον" τοῦτο 
+δὲ ὁ Δαρεῖος τῶν ἀνδρῶν τοὺς κορυφαίους μά- 
+λιστα ἐς τρισχιλίους ἀνεσκολόπισε, τοῖσι δὲ 
+λοιποῖσι Βαβυλωνίοισι ἀπέδωκε τὴν πόλιν oi- 
+κέειν. ὡς δ᾽ ἕξουσι γυναῖκας οἱ Βαβυλώνιοι ἵνα 
+σφι γενεὴ ὑπογίνηται, τάδε Δαρεῖος προϊδὼν 
+ἐποίησε' τὰς γὰρ ἑωυτῶν, ὡς καὶ κατ᾽ ἀρχὰς 
+δεδήλωται, ἀπέπνιξαν οἱ Βαβυλώνιοι τοῦ σίτου 
+προορέοντες' ἐπέταξε τοῖσι περιοίκοισι ἔθνεσι 
+γυναῖκας ἐς Βαβυλῶνα κατιστάναι, ὅσας δὴ 
+ἑκάστοισι ἐπιτάσσων, ὥστε πέντε μυριάδων τὸ 
+κεφαλαίωμα τῶν γυναικῶν συνῆλθε: ἐκ τουτέων 
+ὲ τῶν γυναικῶν οἱ νῦν Βαβυλώνιοι γεγόνασι. 
+
+160. Ζωπύρου δὲ οὐδεὶς ἀγαθοεργίην Περσέων 
+ὑπερεβάλετο παρὰ Δαρείῳ κριτῇ οὔτε τῶν ὕστερον 
+γενομένων οὔτε τῶν πρότερον, ὅτι μὴ Κῦρος 
+μοῦνος" τούτῳ γὰρ οὐδεὶς Περσέων ἠξίωσέ Kw 
+ἑωυτὸν συμβαλεῖν. πολλάκις δὲ Δαρεῖον λέγεται 
+γνώμην τήνδε ἀποδέξασθαι, ὡς 'Βούλοιτο ἂν 
+Ζώπυρον εἶναι ἀπαθέα τῆς ἀεικείης μᾶλλον ἢ 
+Ῥαβυλῶνάς οἱ εἴκοσι πρὸς τῇ ἐούσῃ προσηε- 
+νέσθαι. ἐτίμησε δέ μιν μεγάλως" καὶ γὰρ δῶρά 
+οἱ ἀνὰ πᾶν ἔτος ἐδίδου ταῦτα τὰ Πέρσῃσι ἐστὶ 
+τιμιώτατα, καὶ τὴν Βαβυλῶνά οἱ ἔδωκε ἀτελέα 
+νέμεσθαι μέχρι τῆς ἐκείνου cons, καὶ ἄλλα πολλὰ 
+ἐπέδωκε. Ζωπύρου δὲ τούτου γίνεται Μεγάβυξος, 
+ὃς ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ ἀντία ᾿Αθηναίων καὶ τῶν cvp- 
+μάχων ἐστρατήγησε" Μεγαβύζου δὲ τούτου 
+γίνεται Ζώπυρος, ὃς ἐς ᾿Αθήνας ηὐτομόλησε ἐκ 
+Περσέων. 
+
+
+194 
+
+
+BOOK III. 159-160 
+
+
+their walls and reft away all their gates, neither of 
+which things Cyrus had done at the first taking of 
+Babylon ; moreover he impaled about three thousand 
+men that were chief among them; as for the rest, 
+he gave them back their city to dwell in. Further, 
+as the Babylonians, fearing for their food, had 
+strangled their own women, Darius provided that | 
+they should have wives to bear them children, by 
+appointing that each of the neighbouring nations 
+should send a certain tale of women to Babylon ; the 
+whole sum of the women thus collected was fifty 
+thousand: these were the mothers of those who now 
+inhabit the city. 
+
+160. There never was in Darius’ judgment any 
+Persian before or since who did better service than 
+Zopyrus, save only Cyrus, with whom no Persian 
+could compare himself. Many times Darius is said 
+to have declared that he would rather have Zopyrus 
+whole and not foully mishandled than twenty more 
+Babylons. Very greatly the king honoured him ; 
+every year he sent Zopyrus such gifts as the Persians 
+hold most precious, and suffered him to govern 
+Babylon for all his life with no tribute to pay, 
+giving him many other things besides. This Zopyrus 
+was father of Megabyzus, who was general of an 
+army in Egypt against the Athenians and their 
+allies; and Megabyzus’ son was that Zopyrus who 
+deserted from the Persians to Athens. 
+
+
+195 
+o 2 
+
+
+Digitized by Google 
+
+
+BOOK IV 
+
+
+Δ 
+
+
+1. Μετὰ δὲ τὴν Βαβυλῶνος αἱρεσιν ἐγένετο ἐπὶ 
+
+L4 , ^ / » 2 4 \ e^ 
+Σκύθας αὐτοῦ Δαρείου ἔλασις. ἀνθεύσης γὰρ τῆς 
+9 / , / , , , 
+Ασίης ἀνδράσι καὶ χρημάτων μεγάλων συνιόν- 
+
+» , ο ^ , 4 ο t 
+
+των, ἐπεθύμησε ὁ Δαρεῖος τίσασθαι Σκύθας, ὅτι 
+, ^ / 3 / , M A N 
+ἐκεῖνοι πρότεροι ἐσβαλόντες ἐς τὴν Μηδικὴν καὶ 
+νικήσαντες μάχῃ τοὺς ἀντιουμένους ὑπῆρξαν 
+, ’ ^ ~A LÁ 3 / . e lA 
+ἀδικίης. τῆς yàp ἄνω Ασίης ἦρξαν, ὡς καὶ πρό- 
+
+[4 y / y A / 
+Tepóv μοι εἴρηται, Σκύθαι ἔτεα δυῶν δέοντα τριή- 
+
+a . 3 L4 > 7 
+κοντα. Κιμμερίους γὰρ ἐπιδιώκοντες ἐσέβαλον 
+ἐς τὴν ᾿Ασίην, καταπαύσαντες τῆς ἀρχῆς Μήδους" 
+e 4 [ή , , Φ ^ 
+
+οὗτοι γὰρ πρὶν ἢ Σκύθας ἀπικέσθαι ἦρχον τῆς 
+, ’ A δὲ lA , Ô , 93 M 
+Ασίης. τοὺς δὲ Σκύθας ἀποδημήσαντας ὀκτὼ 
+καὶ εἴκοσι ἔτεα καὶ διὰ χρὀνου τοσούτου κατιόντας 
+> A / , [4 3 , , 
+ἐς τὴν σφετέρην ἐξεδέξατο οὐκ ἑλάσσων πόνος 
+τοῦ Μηδικοῦ: εὗρον γὰρ ἀντιουμένην σφίσι otpa- 
+τιὴν οὐκ ὀλίγην. αἱ γὰρ τῶν Σκυθέων γυναῖκες, 
+ο εν , ^ , [4 2 / 
+ὥς σφι οἱ ἄνδρες ἀπῆσαν χρόνον πολλόν, ἐφοίτεον 
+παρὰ τοὺς δούλους. 
+
+2. Τοὺς δὲ δούλους οἱ Σκύθαι πάντας τυφλοῦσι 
+τοῦ γάλακτος εἵνεκεν τοῦ πίνουσι ποιεῦντες ὧδε. 
+199 
+
+
+BOOK IV 
+
+
+l. Arter the taking of Babylon, Darius himself 
+marched against the Scythians. For seeing that 
+Asia abounded in men and that he gathered from it 
+a great revenue, he became desirous of punishing 
+the Scythians for the unprovoked wrong they had 
+done him when they invaded Asia and defeated 
+those who encountered them. For the Scythians, 
+as I have before shown, ruled the upper country of 
+Asia! for twenty-eight years; they invaded Asia in 
+their pursuit of the Cimmerians, and made an end of 
+the power of the Medes, who were the rulers of 
+Asia before the coming of the Scythians. But when 
+the Scythians had been away from their homes for 
+eight and twenty years and returned to their country 
+after so long a time, there awaited them another 
+task as hard as their Median war. They found 
+themselves encountered by a great host; for their 
+husbands being now long away, the Scythian women 
+consorted with their slaves. 
+
+2. Now the Scythians blind all their slaves, by 
+reason of the milk? whereof they drink ; and this is 
+1 That is, the eastern highlands of the Persian empire. 
+
+2 Herodotus means that the slaves are blinded to prevent 
+them stealing the best of the milk. Probably the story of 
+
+
+blind slaves arises from some Scythian name for slaves, 
+misunderstood by the Greeks. 
+
+
+199 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐπεὰν φυσητῆρας λάβωσι ὀστεΐνους αὐλοῖσι προσ- 
+, / : 3 / 3 ^ [4 
+εµφερεστάτους, τούτους ἐσθέντες ἐς τῶν θηλέων 
+ἵππων τὰ ἄρθρα φυσῶσι τοῖσι στόµασι, ἄλλοι δὲ 
+ἄλλων φυσώντων ἀμέλγουσι. φασὶ δὲ τοῦδε 
+^ \ / / 
+εἵνεκα τοῦτο ποιέειν' τὰς φλέβας τε πίμπλασθαι 
+φυσωμένας τῆς ἵππου καὶ τὸ οὖθαρ κατίεσθαι. 
+/ 
+ἐπεὰν δὲ ἀμέλξωσι τὸ γάλα, ἐσχέαντες ἐς ξύλινα 
+ἀγγήια κοῖλὰ καὶ περιστίξαντες κατὰ τὰ ἀγγήια 
+x X 4 ^ / b \ , ^ 
+τοὺς τυφλοὺς δονέουσι τὸ γάλα, Kal τὸ μὲν αὐτοῦ 
+ἐπιστάμενον ἀπαρύσαντες ἡγεῦνται εἶναι τιµιώ- 
+τερον, τὸ Ò ὑπιστάμενον ἧσσον τοῦ ἑτέρου. 
+/ e ν ~ A / e 
+τούτων μὲν eivexa ἅπαντα τὸν ἂν λάβωσι οἱ 
+Σκύθαι ἐκτυφλοῦσι' οὐ γὰρ ἀρόται εἰσὶ ἀλλὰ 
+νομάδες. 
+3. Ἐκ τούτων δὴ ὧν σφι τῶν δούλων καὶ τῶν 
+- / € 
+γυναικῶν ἐτράφη νεότης" ot ἐπείτε ἔμαθον τὴν 
+σφετέρην γένεσιν, ἠντιοῦντο αὐτοῖσι κατιοῦσι ἐκ 
+τῶν Μήδων. καὶ πρῶτα μὲν τὴν χώρην ἀπετά- 
+µοντο, τάφρον ὀρυξάμενοι εὐρέαν κατατείνουσαν 
+ἐκ τῶν Ταυρικῶν ὀρέων ἐς τὴν Μαιῆτιν λέμνην, 
+τῇ περ ἐστὶ μεγίστη: μετὰ δὲ πειρωμένοισι ἐσ- 
+, ^ " 9 / > 7 
+BáXXew τοῖσι Σκύθῃσι ἀντικατιζόμενοι ἐμάχοντο. 
+γινομένης δὲ μάχης πολλάκις καὶ οὐ δυναμένων 
+9 / y A / ^ , 
+οὐδὲν πλέον ἔχειν τῶν Σκυθέων τῇ μάχῃ, εἷς 
+αὐτῶν ἔλεξε τάδε. “Ola ποιεῦμεν, ἄνδρες Σκύθαι" 
+δούλοισι τοῖσι ἡμετέροισι μαχόμενοι αὐτοί τε 
+κτεινόµενοι ἐλάσσονες γινόμεθα καὶ ἐκείνους κτεί- 
+3 , . . » ^ . 
+νοντες ἑλασσόνων τὸ λοιπὸν ἄρξομεν. νῦν ὧν 
+200 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 2-3 
+
+
+the way of their getting it: taking pipes of bone 
+very like flutes, they thrust these into the secret 
+parts of the mares and blow into them, some blowing 
+and others milking. By what they say, their reason 
+for so doing is that the blowing makes the mare’s 
+veins to swell and her udder to be let down. When 
+milking is done, they pour the milk into deep wooden 
+buckets, and make their slaves to stand about the 
+buckets and shake the milk; the surface part of it 
+they draw off, and this they most value; what lies 
+at the bottom is less esteemed. It is for this cause 
+that the Scythians blind all prisoners whom they 
+take; for they are not tillers of the soil, but wander- 
+ing graziers. 
+
+3. So it came about that a younger race grew up, 
+born of these slaves and the women; and when the 
+youths learnt of their lineage, they came out to do 
+battle with the Scythians in their return from 
+Media, First they barred the way to their country 
+by digging a wide trench from the Tauric mountains 
+to the broadest part of the Maeetian lake!; and 
+presently when the Scythians tried to force a. 
+passage they encamped over against them and met 
+them in battle. Many fights there were, and the 
+Scythians could gain no advantage thereby ; at last 
+one of them said, * Men of Scythia, see what we 
+are about!. We are fighting our own slaves; they 
+slay us, and we grow fewer; we slay them, and 
+thereafter shall have fewer slaves. Now therefore 
+
+
+1 The Sea of Azov. It is not clear where the τάφρος was. 
+Some think that Herodotus may have had in his mind the so- 
+called **Putrid Sea," the narrow stretch of water between 
+the Arabat isthmus and the Crimea. This at least corre- 
+sponds with the ** point of greatest breadth" of the Sea of 
+Azov. 
+
+
+20I 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μοι δοκέει αἰχμὰς μὲν καὶ τόξα μετεῖναι, λαβόντα 
+δὲ ἕκαστον τοῦ ἵππου τὴν μάστιγα ἰέναι ἆσσον 
+αὐτῶν. μέχρι μὲν γὰρ ὥρων ἡμέας ὅπλα ἔχοντας, 
+οἳ δὲ ἐνόμιζον ὅμοιοί τε καὶ ἐξ ὁμοίων ἡμῖν εἶναι" 
+ἐπεὰν δὲ ἴδωνται μάστιγας ἀντὶ ὅπλων ἔχοντας, 
+μαθόντες ὡς εἰσὶ ἡμέτεροι δοῦλοι καὶ συγγνόντες 
+τοῦτο, οὐκ ὑπομενέουσι.᾽ 
+
+4, Ταῦτα ἀκούσαντες οἱ Σκύθαι ἐποίευν ἐπι- 
+τελέα' of δὲ ἐκπλαγέντες τῷ γινομένῳ τῆς μάχης 
+τε ἐπελάθοντο καὶ ἔφευγον. οὕτω οἱ Σκύθαι τῆς 
+τε ᾿Ασίης ἦρξαν καὶ ἐξελασθέντες αὖτις ὑπὸ 
+Μήδων κατῆλθον τρόπῳ τοιούτῳ ἐς τὴν σφετέρην. 
+τῶνδε εἵνεκα ὁ Δαρεῖος τίσασθαι βουλόμενος 
+συνήγειρε ἐπ᾽ αὐτοὺς στράτευμα. 
+
+5. Ὡς δὲ Σκύθαι λέγουσι, νεώτατον πάντων 
+ἐθνέων εἶναι τὸ σφέτερον, τοῦτο δὲ γενέσθαι ὧδε. 
+ἄνδρα γενέσθαι πρῶτον ἐν τῇ γῇ ταύτῃ ἐούσῃ 
+ἐρήμῳ τῷ οὔνομα εἶναι Ταργιτάον' τοῦ δὲ Tap- 
+γιτάου τούτου τοὺς τοκέας λέγουσι εἶναι, ἐμοὶ 
+μὲν οὐ πιστὰ λέγοντες, λέγουσι δ ὧν, Δία τε 
+καὶ Βορυσθένεος τοῦ ποταμοῦ θυγατέρα. γένεος 
+μὲν τοιούτου δή τινος γενέσθαι τὸν Ταργιτάον, 
+τούτου δὲ γενέσθαι παῖδας τρεῖς, Λιπόξαϊν καὶ 
+᾿Αρπόξαϊν καὶ νεώτατον Κολάξαϊν. ἐπὶ τούτων 
+ἀρχόντων ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ φερόμενα χρύσεα ποιή- 
+ματα, ἄροτρόν τε καὶ ζυγὸν καὶ σάγαριν καὶ 
+φιάλην, πεσεῖν ἐς τὴν Σκυθικήν' καὶ τῶν ἰδόντα 
+πρῶτον τὸν πρεσβύτατον ἆσσον ἰέναι βουλόμενον 
+αὐτὰ λαβεῖν, τὸν δὲ χρυσὸν ἐπιόντος καίεσθαι" 
+ἀπαλλαχθέντος δὲ τούτου προσιέναι τὸν δεύτερον, 
+καὶ τὸν αὖτις ταὐτὰ ποιέειν. τοὺς μὲν δὴ καιό- 
+μενον τὸν χρυσὸν ἀπώσασθαι, τρίτῳ δὲ τῷ νεω- 
+202 
+
+
+| 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 3-5 
+
+
+my counsel is that we drop our spears and bows, and 
+go to meet them each with his horsewhip in hand. 
+As long as they saw us armed, they thought them- 
+selves to be our peers and the sons of our peers; let 
+them see us with whips and no weapons of war, and 
+they will perceive that they are our slaves; and 
+taking this to heart they will not abide our attack.” 
+
+4. This the Scythians heard, and acted thereon ; 
+and their enemies, amazed by what they saw, had 
+no more thought of fighting, but fled. Thus the 
+Scythians ruled Asia and were driven out again by 
+the Medes, and by such means they won their return 
+to their own land. Desiring to punish them for 
+what they did, Darius mustered an army against 
+them. 
+
+5. The Scythians say that their nation is the 
+youngest in all the world, and that it came into 
+being on this wise. There appeared in this country, 
+being then desert, a man whose name was Targitaus. 
+His parents, they say—for my part I do not believe 
+the tale, but it is told—were Zeus and a daughter of 
+the river Borysthenes.! Such (it is said) was Tar- 
+gitaus' lineage; and he had three sons, Lipoxais, 
+Arpoxais, and Colaxais, youngest of the three. Τη 
+the time of their rule (so the story goes) there fell 
+down from the sky into Scythia certain implements, 
+all of gold, namely, a plough, a yoke, a sword, and a 
+flask. The eldest of them, seeing this, came near 
+with intent to take them; but the gold began to 
+burn as he came, and he ceased from his essay ; then 
+the second approached, and the gold did again as 
+before; when these two had been driven away by the 
+burning of the gold, last came the youngest brother, 
+
+
+1 The Dnieper. 
+203 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τάτῳ ἐπελθόντι κατασβῆναι, καί μιν ἐκεῖνον 
+κομίσαι ἐς ἑωυτοῦ" καὶ τοὺς πρεσβυτέρους ἆδελ.- 
+φεοὺς πρὸς ταῦτα συγγνόντας τὴν βασιληίην 
+πᾶσαν παραδοῦναι τῷ νεωτάτῳ. 
+
+6. ᾿Απὸ μὲν δὴ Λιποξάιος γεγονέναι τούτους 
+τῶν Σκυθέων οἳ Αὐχάται γένος καλέονται, ἀπὸ 
+δὲ τοῦ μέσου. ᾿Αρποξάιος οἳ Kariapot τε καὶ 
+Τράσπιες καλέονται, ἀπὸ δὲ τοῦ νεωτάτου αὐτῶν 
+τοῦ βασιλέος οἳ καλέονται Παραλιάται' σύμπασι 
+δὲ εἶναι οὔνομα Σκολότους, τοῦ. βασιλέος ἐπω- 
+νυμίην. Σκύθας δὲ" Ἕλληνες ὠνόμασαν. 
+
+7. Γεγονέναι μέν νυν σφέας ὧδε λέγουσι οἱ 
+Σκύθαι, ἔτεα δὲ σφίσι ἐπείτε γεγόνασι τὰ σύμ- 
+παντα λέγουσι εἶναι ἀπὸ τοῦ πρώτου βασιλέος 
+Ἱαργιτάου ἐς τὴν Δαρείου διάβασιν τὴν ἐπὶ 
+σφέας χιλίων οὐ πλέω ἀλλὰ τοσαῦτα. τὸν δὲ 
+χρυσὸν τοῦτον τὸν ἱρὸν φυλάσσουσι οἱ βασιλέες 
+ἐς τὰ μάλιστα, καὶ θυσίῃσι μεγάλῃσι ἱλασκό- 
+μενοι μετέρχονται ἀνὰ πᾶν ἔτος. ὃς ὃ ἂν ἔχων 
+τὸν χρυσὸν τὸν ἱρὸν ἐν. τῇ ὁρτῇ ὑπαίθριος κατα- 
+κοιμηθῇ, οὗτος λέγεται ὑπὸ κυθέων οὐ διενιαυτί- 
+Few δίδοσθαι δέ οἱ διὰ τοῦτο ὅσα ἂν ἵππῳ ἐν 
+ἡμέρῃ μιῇ περιελάσῃ αὐτός. τῆς δὲ χώρης ἐούσης 
+μεγάλης τριφασίας τὰς βασιληίας τοῖσι παισὶ 
+τοῖσι ἑωυτοῦ καταστήσασθαι Κολάξαϊν, καὶ του- 
+τέων μίαν ποιῆσαι μεγίστην, ἐν τῇ τὸν χρυσὸν 
+φυλάσσεσθαι. τὰ δὲ κατύπερθε πρὸς βορέην 
+λέγουσι ἄνεμον τῶν ὑπεροίκων τῆς χώρης οὐκ οἷά 
+τε εἶναι ἔτι προσωτέρω οὔτε ὁρᾶν οὔτε διεξιέναι 
+ὑπὸ πτερῶν κεχυμένων' πτερῶν γὰρ καὶ τὴν γῆν 
+καὶ τὸν ἠέρα εἶναι πλέον, καὶ ταῦτα εἶναι τ 
+ἀποκληίοντα τὴν ὄψιν. 
+
+
+204 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 5-7 
+
+
+and the burning was quenched at his approach; so 
+he took the gold to his own house. At this his 
+elder brothers saw how matters stood, and made over 
+the whole royal power to the youngest. 
+
+6. Lipoxais, it is said, was the father of the 
+Scythian clan called Auchatae ; Arpoxais, the second 
+brother, of those called Katiari and Traspies; the 
+youngest, who was king, of those called Paralatae. 
+All these together bear the name of Skoloti, after 
+their king; “Scythians” is a name given them by 
+Greeks. 
+
+7. Such then is the Scythians’ account of their 
+origin; they reckon that neither more nor less than 
+a thousand years in all passed between their first 
+appearing and the crossing over of Darius into their 
+country. The kings guard this sacred gold most 
+jealously, and every year offer to it solemn sacrifices 
+of propitiation. Whoever at this festival sleeps in 
+the open air, having with him the gold, is said by the 
+Scythians not to live out the year ; for which reason! 
+(they say) there is given him as much land as he can 
+himself ride round in one day. Because of the great 
+size of the country, the lordships established by 
+Colaxais for his sons were three, one of which, 
+where they keep the gold, was the greatest. 
+Above and northward of the neighbours of their 
+country none (they say) can see or travel further, 
+by reason of showers of feathers?; for earth and 
+
+
+sky are overspread by these, and it is this which 
+hinders sight. | 
+
+
+: 1 The ‘‘reason” is obscure; perhaps the gift of land is a 
+compensation for his shortness of life. 
+2 See ch. 31 for Herodotus’ explanation. 
+
+
+205 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+8. Σκύθαι μὲν ὧδε ὑπὲρ σφέων τε αὐτῶν καὶ 
+τῆς χώρης τῆς κατύπερθε λέγουσι, Ἑλλήνων δὲ 
+οἱ τὸν Πόντον οἰκέοντες ὧδε. Ἡρακλέα ἐλαύ- 
+νοντα τὰς Γηρυόνεω βοῦς ἀπικέσθαι ἐς γῆν 
+ταύτην ἐοῦσαν ἐρήμην, jj ἥντινα νῦν Σκύθαι νέ- 
+μονται. Γηρυόνεα δὲ οὐκέειν ἔξω τοῦ Πόντου, 
+κατοικημένον «τὴν Ἕλληνες λέγουσι. ᾿Ερύθειαν 
+νῆσον τὴν πρὸς Γαδείροισι τοῖσι ἔξω Ἡρακλέων 
+στηλέων ἐπὶ τῷ, Ὠκεανφ. τὸν δὲ Ὠκεανὸν λόγῳ 
+μὲν λέγουσι ἀπὸ ἡλίου ἀνατολέων ἀρξάμενον γῆν 
+περὶ πᾶσαν ῥέειν, ἔργῳ δὲ οὐκ ἀποδεικνῦσι. 
+ἐνθεῦτεν τὸν Ἡρακλέα ἀπικέσθαι ἐς τὴν νῦν 
+Σκυθίην χώρην καλεομένην,͵ καὶ καταλαβεῖν γὰρ 
+αὐτὸν .χειμῶνά τε καὶ κρυμόν, ἐπειρυσάμενον τὴν 
+λεοντέην κατυπνῶσαι, τὰς δέ οἱ ἵππους Tas? 
+ὑπὸ τοῦ ἅρματος νεμομένας ἐν τούτῳ τῷ χρόνῳ 
+ἀφανισθῆναι θείῃ τύχῃ. 
+
+9. Ὡς 6 ἐγερθῆναι τὸν “Ἡρακλέα, δίζησθαι, 
+πάντα δὲ τῆς χώρης ἐπεξελθόντα τέλος ἀπι- 
+κέσθαι ἐς τὴν Ὑλαίην καλεομένην γῆν" ἐνθαῦτα 
+δὲ αὐτὸν εὑρεῖν ἐν ἄντρῳ μιξοπάρθενον τινά, 
+ἔχιδναν διφυέα, τῆς τὰ μὲν ἄνω ἀπὸ τῶν γλουτῶν 
+εἶναι γυναικός, τὰ δὲ ἔνερθε ὄφιος. ἰδόντα δὲ καὶ 
+θωμάσαντα ἐπειρέσθαι. pw εἶ κου ἴδοι ἵππους 
+πλανωμένας" τὴν δὲ άναι ἑωυτὴν ἔχειν καὶ οὐκ 
+ἀποδώσειν ἐκείνῳ πρὶν ἤ οἱ μιχθῇ" τὸν δὲ Ἥρα- 
+κλέα μιχθῆναι ἐπὶ τῷ μισθῷ τούτῳ. κείνην τε 
+δὴ ὑπερβάλλεσθαι τὴν ἀπόδοσιν τῶν ἵππων, 
+βουλομένην ὡς πλεῖστον χρόνον συνεῖναι τῷ 
+Ἡρακλέι, καὶ τὸν κομισάμενον ἐθέλειν ἀπαλ- 
+λάσσεσθαι: τέλος δὲ ἀποδιδοῦσαν αὐτὴν εἰπεῖν 
+
+
+1 [τάς] Stein. 
+206 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 8-9 
+
+
+8. Such is the Scythians' account of themselves 
+and the country north of them. But the story told 
+by the Greeks is as follows. Heracles, driving the 
+kine of Geryones, came to this land, which was then 
+desert, but is now inhabited by the Scythians. 
+Geryones dwelt westward of the Pontus, being 
+settled in the island called by the Greeks Erythea, 
+on the shore of the Ocean near Gadira, outside the 
+pillars of Heracles. As for the Ocean, the Greeks 
+say that it flows from the sun’s rising round the whole 
+world, but they cannot prove that this is so. Heracles 
+came thence to the country now called Scythia, where, 
+meeting with wintry and frosty weather, he drew 
+his lion’s skin over him and fell asleep, and while he 
+slept his mares, that were grazing yoked to the 
+chariot, were marvellously spirited away. 
+
+9, When Heracles awoke he searched for them, 
+visiting every part of the country, till at last he 
+came to the land called the Woodland, and there he 
+found in a cave a creature of double form that was 
+half damsel and half serpent; above the buttocks 
+she was a woman, below them a snake. When he 
+saw her he was astonished, and asked her if she had 
+anywhere seen his mares straying ; she said that she 
+had them, and would not restore them to him before 
+he had intercourse with her; which Heracles did, in 
+hope of this reward. But though he was fain to 
+take the horses and depart, she delayed to restore 
+them, that she might have Heracles with her for as 
+long as might be; at last she gave them back, saying 
+
+
+1 Very far west, Gadira being identitied with Cadiz. 
+207 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ME ππους μὲν δὴ ταύτας ἀπικομένας ἐνθάδε 
+ἔσωσά TOL ἐγώ, σῶστρά τε σὺ παρέσχες" ἐγὼ γὰρ 
+ἐκ σεῦ τρεῖς παῖδας ë ἔχω. τούτους, ἐπεὰν γένων- 
+ταί τρόφιες, ὅ τι χρὴ ποιέειν, ἐξηγέο σύ, εἴτε 
+αὐτοῦ κατοικίξω (χώρης γὰρ τῆσδε ἔ ἔχω τὸ κράτος 
+αὐτή) εἴτε ἀποπέμπω παρὰ σέ.᾽ τὴν μὲν δὴ 
+ταῦτα ἐπειρωτᾶν, τὸν δὲ λέγουσι πρὸς ταῦτα 
+εἰπεῖν “ Ἐπεὰν ἀνδρωθέντας ἴδῃ τοὺς παῖδας, 
+τάδε ποιεῦσα οὐκ ἂν ἁμαρτάνοις' τὸν μὲν ἂν ὁρᾷς 
+αὐτῶν τόδε τὸ τόξον ὧδε διατεινόμενον καὶ τῷ 
+ζωστῆρι τῷδε κατὰ τάδε ἑωννύμενον, τοῦτον, μὲν 
+τῆσδε τῆς χώρης οἰκήτορα ποιεῦ' ὃς δ᾽ ἂν τούτων 
+τῶν ἔργων τῶν ἐντέλλομαι λείπηται, ἔκπεμπε ἐκ 
+τῆς χώρης. καὶ ταῦτα ποιεῦσα αὐτή τε εὐφρανέαι 
+καὶ τὰ ἐντεταλμένα. ποιήσεις.” 
+
+10, Τὸν μὲν δὴ εἰρύσαντα τῶν τόξων τὸ ἕτερον 
+(δύο γὰρ δὴ φορέειν τέως Ἡρακλέα) καὶ τὸν 
+ζωστῆρα προδέξαντα, παραδοῦναι τὸ τόξον τε καὶ 
+τὸν ζωστῆρα ἔχοντα ἐπ᾽ ἄκρης τῆς συμβολῆς 
+γην χρυσέην, δόντα δὲ ἀπαλλάσσεσθαι. τὴν 
+
+» ἐπεί οἱ γενομένους τοὺς παῖδας ἀνδρωθῆναι, 
+τοῦτο μέν σφι οὐνόματα θέσθαι, τῷ μὲν ᾿Αγά- 
+θυρσον αὐτῶν, τῷ δ᾽ ἑπομένῳ Γελωνόν, Σκύθην δὲ 
+τῷ νεωτάτῳ, τοῦτο δὲ τῆς ἐπιστολῆς μεμνημένην 
+αὐτὴν ποιῆσαι τὰ ἐντεταλμένα. καὶ .δὴ δύο μέν 
+οἱ τῶν παίδων, τόν τε ᾿Αγάθυρσον καὶ τὸν Γελω- 
+νόν, οὐκ οἵους τε γενομένους ἐξικέσθαι πρὸς τὸν 
+προκείμενον. ἄεθλον, οἴχεσθαι ἐκ τῆς χώρης ἐκ- 
+βληθέντας ὑπὸ τῆς γειναμένης, τὸν δὲ νεώτατον 
+αὐτῶν Σκύθην ἐπιτελέσαντα καταμεῖναι ἐν τῇ 
+χώρῃ. καὶ ἀπὸ μὲν Σκύθεω τοῦ Ἡρακλέος 
+γενέσθαι τοὺς αἰεὶ βασιλέας γινομένους Σκυθέων, 
+
+
+208 
+
+
+BOOK IV. g-10 
+
+
+to him, “These mares came, and I kept them safe 
+here for you, and you have paid me for keeping 
+them, for I have three sons by you. Do you now 
+tell me what I must do' when they are grown big: 
+shall 1 make them to dwell here (for I am the queen 
+of this country), or shall I send them away to you?" 
+Thus she inquired, and then (it is said) Heracles 
+answered her: * When you see the boys grown to 
+man's estate, act as I bid you and you will do rightly; 
+whichever of them you see bending this bow thus 
+and girding himself with this girdle, make him a 
+dweller in this land; but whoever fails to achieve 
+these tasks which I lay upon him, send him away out 
+of the country. Thus do and you will yourself have 
+comfort, and my bidding will be done." 
+
+10. So he drew one of his bows (for till then 
+Heracles ever bore two), and showed her the girdle, 
+and delivered to her the bow and the girdle, that 
+had a golden vessel on the end of its clasp; and, 
+having given them, so departed. But she, when the 
+sons born to her were grown men, gave them names, 
+calling one of them Agathyrsus and the next Gelo- 
+nus and the youngest Scythes; moreover, remem- 
+bering the charge, she did as she was commanded. 
+Two of her sons, Agathyrsus and Gelonus, not being 
+able to achieve the appointed task, were cast out by 
+their mother and left the country, but Scythes, the 
+youngest, accomplished it and so abode in the land. 
+From Scythes son of Heracles comes the whole line 
+of the kings of Scythia; and it is because of the 
+
+209 
+
+VOL. II. E 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἀπὸ δὲ τῆς φιάλης € ἔτι καὶ ἐς τόδε φιάλας ἐκ τῶν 
+ζωστήρων φορέειν Σκύθας" τὸ δὴ μοῦνον unya- 
+νήσασθαι τὴν μητέρα Σκύθῃ.' ταῦτα δὲ Ελλήνων 
+οἱ ud Πόντον οἰκέοντες λέγουσι. 
+
+Ἔστι δὲ καὶ ἄλλος λόγος ἔχων ὧδε, τῷ 
+places λεγομένῳ, αὐτὸς πρόσκειµαι, Σκύθας 
+τοὺς νομάδας οἰκέοντας ἐν τῇ ᾿Ασίῃ, πολέμῳ 
+πιεσθέντας ὑπὸ Μασσαγετέων, οἴχεσθαι δια- 
+βάντας ποταμὸν ᾿Αράξην ἐπὶ γῆν τῆν Κιμμερίην 
+(τὴν γὰρ νῦν νέμονται Σκύθαι, αὕτη λέγεται. τὸ 
+παλαιὸν εἶναι Κιμμερίων), τοὺς δὲ Κιμμερίους 
+ἐπιόντων Σκυθέων βουλεύεσθαι ὡς στρατοῦ ETL- 
+όντος μεγάλου, καὶ δὴ τὰς γνώμας σφέων κεχω- 
+ρισμένας, ἐντόνους μὲν ἀμφοτέρας, ἀμείνω δὲ τὴν 
+τῶν βασιλέων: τὴν μὲν γὰρ δὴ τοῦ δήμου φέρειν 
+γνώμην ὡς ἀπαλλάσσεσθαι πρῆγμα εἴη μηδὲ 
+πρὸ σποδοῦ μένοντας κινδυνεύειν, τὴν δὲ τῶν 
+βασιλέων διαμάχεσθαι περὶ τῆς χώρης τοῖσι 
+ἐπιοῦσι. οὔκων δὴ ἐθέλειν πείθεσθαι οὔτε τοῖσι 
+βασιλεῦσι τὸν. δῆμον οὔτε τῷ δήμῳ τοὺς βα- 
+σιλέας" τοὺς μὲν δὴ ἀπαλλάσσεσθαι βουλεύεσθαι 
+ἀμαχητὶ τὴν χώρην παραδόντας τοῖσι ἐπιοῦσι. 
+τοῖσι δὲ βασιλεῦσι δόξαι € ἐν τῇ ἑωυτῶν κεῖσθαι ἀπο- 
+θανόντας μηδὲ συμφεύγειν τῷ δήμῳ, λογισαμένους 
+ὅσα τε ἀγαθὰ πεπόνθασι καὶ ὅσα φεύγοντας 
+ἐκ τῆς πατρίδος κακὰ ἐπίδοξα καταλαμβάνειν. 
+ὡς δὲ δόξαι σφι ταῦτα, διαστάντας καὶ ἀριθμὸν 
+ἴσους γενομένους μάχεσθαι πρὸς ἀλλήλους. καὶ 
+
+
+1 This is not intelligible {ο me. If τῇ μητέρι Σκύθην could 
+be read, some sense might be obtained: Scythes, and he 
+alone, contrived this (τόδε for τὸ δή, ''this" being the προ- 
+κειμένος ἄεθλος) for his mother. 
+
+
+210 
+
+
+BOOK IV. το-τι 
+
+
+vessel that the Scythians carry vessels on their 
+girdles to this day. This alone his mother contrived 
+for Scythes. Such is the tale told by. the Greek 
+dwellers in Pontus. 
+
+ll. There is yet another tale, to the tradition 
+whereof I myself do especially incline. It is to this 
+purport : The nomad Scythians inhabiting Asia, being 
+hard pressed in war by the Massagetae, fled away 
+across the river Araxes! to the Cimmerian country 
+(for the country which the Scythians now inhabit is 
+said to have belonged of old to the Cimmerians), and 
+the Cimmerians, at the advance of the Scythians, 
+took such counsel as behoved men threatened by a 
+great host. Their opinions were divided; both were 
+strongly held, but that of the princes was the more 
+honourable ; for the commonalty deemed that their 
+business was to withdraw themselves and that there 
+was no need to risk their lives for the dust of the 
+earth ; but the princes were for fighting to defend 
+their country against the attackers. Neither side 
+would be persuaded by the other, neither the people 
+by the princes nor the princes by the people; the 
+one part planned to depart without fighting and 
+deliver the country to their enemies, but the princes 
+were resolved to lie slain in their own country and 
+not to flee with the people, for they considered how 
+happy their state had been and what ills were like 
+to come upon them if they fled from their native 
+land. Being thus resolved they parted asunder into 
+two equal bands and fought with each other till they 
+
+
+1 Herodotus’ idea of the course of this river is uncertain ; 
+cp. i. 202. He appears to extend the Araxes, which 
+flowed from the west into the Caspian, into regions east 
+of that sea. 
+
+
+211 
+
+
+P 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+A . > [4 / e νε ^ / 
+τοὺς μὲν ἀποθανόντας πάντας ὑπ᾽ ἑωυτῶν θάψαι 
+τὸν δῆμον τῶν Κιμμερίων παρὰ ποταμὸν Τύρην 
+(καί σφεων ἔτι δῆλος ἐστὶ ὁ τάφος), θάψαντας δὲ 
+
+e M y ? ^ , / / 
+οὕτω τὴν ἔξοδον ἐκ τῆς χώρης ποιέεσθαι' Σκύθας 
+δὲ ἐπελθόντας λαβεῖν τὴν χώρην ἐρήμην. 
+
+19. Καὶ νῦν ἔστι μὲν ἐν τῇ Σκυθικῇ Κιμμέρια 
+
+, vy / [4 vy \ ν 
+τείχεα, ἔστι δὲ πορθμήια Κιμμέρια, ἔστι δὲ καὶ 
+
+΄ » / » δὲ Bó K 
+χώρη οὔνομα Κιμμερίη, ἔστι δὲ Βόσπορος Kiu- 
+μέριος καλεόμενος: φαίνονται δὲ οἱ Κιμμέριοι 
+
+A ? . , / \ / M 
+φεύγοντες és τὴν ᾿Ασίην τοὺς Σκύθας καὶ τὴν 
+χερσόνησον κτίσαντες, ἐν τῇ νῦν Σινώπη πόλις 
+Ἑλλὰς οἴκισται. φανεροὶ δὲ εἰσὶ καὶ οἱ Σκύθαι 
+διώξαντες αὐτοὺς καὶ ἐσβαλόντες ἐς γῆν τὴν Μη- 
+δικήν, ἁμαρτόντες τῆς ὁδοῦ" οἱ μὲν γὰρ Κιμμέριοι 
+αἰεὶ τὴν παρὰ θάλασσαν ἔφευγον, οἱ δὲ Σκύθαι 
+3 ^ Ν ΄ y 207/7 ? Φ 
+ἐν δεξιῇ τὸν Καύκασον ἔχοντες ἐδίωκον ἐς οὗ 
+» 7 , ^ A , , [4 ^ 
+ἐσέβαλον ἐς γῆν τὴν Μηδικήν, ἐς μεσόγαιαν τῆς 
+ε ^ , e v~ . € [4 
+0000 τραφθέντες. οὗτος δὲ ἄλλος ξυνὸς Ἑλλήνων 
+τε καὶ βαρβάρων λεγόμενος λόγος εἴρηται. 
+
+13. Ἔφη δὲ ᾿Δριστέης ὁ Καὐστροβίου ἀνὴρ 
+Προκοννήσιος ποιέων ἔπεα, ἀπικέσθαι ἐς Ἴσση- 
+δόνας φοιβόλαμπτος γενόμενος, ᾿Ισσηδόνων δὲ 
+e , , M y 7 
+ὑπεροικέειν ᾿Αριμασποὺς ἄνδρας µουνοφθάλμους, 
+ὑπὲρ δὲ τούτων τοὺς χρυσοφύλακας γρῦπας, τού- 
+των δὲ τοὺς Ὑπερβορέους κατήκοντας ἐπὶ θάλασ- 
+σαν. τούτους ὧν πάντας πλὴν Ὑπερβορέων, 
+ἀρξάντων ᾿Αριμασπῶν, αἰεὶ τοῖσι πλησιοχώροισι 
+, / e N b] ^ , / 
+ἐπιτίθεσθαι, καὶ ὑπὸ μὲν ᾿Αριμασπῶν ἐξωθέεσθαι 
+
+
+212 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 11-13 
+
+
+were all slain by their own hands; then the com- 
+monalty of the Cimmerians buried them by the river 
+Tyres, where their tombs are still to be seen, and 
+having buried them departed out of the land; and 
+the country being empty, the Scythians came and 
+took possession of it. 
+
+12. And to this day there are in Scythia Cim- 
+merian walls, and a Cimmerian ferry, and there is a 
+country Cimmeria! and a strait named Cimmerian. 
+Moreover, it is clearly seen that the Cimmerians in 
+their flight from the Scythians into Asia did also 
+make a colony on the peninsula where now the 
+Greek city of Sinope has been founded; and it is 
+manifest that the Scythians pursued after them and 
+invaded Media, missing their way; for the Cimme- 
+rians ever fled by the way of the coast, and the 
+Scythians pursued with the Caucasus on their right 
+till where they came into the Median land, turning 
+inland on their way. I have now related this other 
+tale, which is told alike by Greeks and foreigners. 
+
+13. There is also a story related by Aristeas son 
+of Caystrobius, a man of Proconnesus and a poet. 
+This Aristeas, being then possessed by Phoebus, 
+visited the Issedones; beyond these (he said) dwell 
+the one-eyed Arimaspians, beyond whom are the 
+griffins that guard gold, and beyond these again the 
+Hyperboreans, whose territory. reaches to the sea. 
+Except the Hyperboreans, all these nations (and first _ 
+the Arimaspians) ever make war upon their neigh- 
+bours ; the Issedones were pushed from their lands 
+
+
+1 The name survives in ‘‘Crimea.” The *''Cimmerian 
+ferry” is probably the narrow entrance of the Sea of Azov. 
+
+For some notice of geographical difficulties here and 
+elsewhere in this Book, see the introduction to this volume. 
+
+
+213 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐκ τῆς χώρης Ἰσσηδόνας, ὑπὸ δὲ ᾿Ισσηδόνων 
+Σκύθας, Κιμμερίους δὲ οἰκέοντας ἐπὶ τῇ νοτίῃ 
+θαλάσσῃ ἱ ὑπὸ Σκυθέων πιεζομένους ἐκλείπειν τὴν 
+χώρην. οὕτω οὐδὲ οὗτος συμφέρεται περὶ τῆς 
+χώρης ταύτης Σκύθῃσι. 
+
+14. Καὶ ὅθεν μὲν ἦν ᾿Αριστέης ὁ ταῦτα εἴπας, 
+εἴρηκα, τὸν δὲ περὶ αὐτοῦ ἤκουον λόγον ἐν Προκον- 
+νήσῳ καὶ Κυξίκῳ, λέξω. ᾿Αριστέην γὰρ λέγουσι, 
+ἐόντα τῶν ἀστῶν οὐδενὸς γένος ὑποδεέστερον, ἐσελ.- 
+θόντα ἐς κναφήιον ἐν Προκοννήσῳ ἀποθανεῖν, καὶ 
+τὸν κναφέα κατακληίσαντα τὸ ἐργαστήριον οἴχε- 
+σθαι ἀγγελέοντα τοῖσι προσήκουσι τῷ νεκρῷ. 
+ἐσκεδασμένου δὲ ἤδη τοῦ λόγου ἀνὰ τὴν πόλιν ὡς 
+τεθνεὼς εἴη ὁ ᾿Αριστέης, ἐς ἀμφισβασίας τοῖσι 
+λέγουσι ἀπικνέεσθαι ἄνδρα Κυξικηνὸν ý ἥκοντα ἐξ 
+᾿Αρτάκης πόλιος, φάντα συντυχεῖν τέ οἱ ἰόντι ἐπὶ 
+Κυζίκου καὶ ἐς λόγους ἀπικέσθαι. καὶ τοῦτον μὲν 
+ἐντεταμένως ἀμφιόβατέειν, τοὺς δὲ προσήκοντας 
+τῷ νεκρῷ ἐπὶ τὸ κναφήιον παρεῖναι ἔχοντας τὰ 
+πρόσφορα ὡς ἀναιρησομένους" ἀνοιχθέντος. δὲ τοῦ 
+οἰκήματος οὔτε τεθνεῶτα οὔτε ζῶντα φαίνεσθαι 
+᾿Αριστέην. μετὰ δὲ -ἑβδόμ ἔτεϊ φανέντα αὐτὸν 
+ἐς Προκόννησον ποιῆσαι τὰ ἔπεα ταῦτα τὰ νῦν 
+ὑπ᾽ Ἑλλήνων ᾿Αριμάσπεα καλέεται, ποιήσαντα δὲ 
+ἀφανισθῆναι τὸ δεύτερον. 
+
+15. Ταῦτα μὲν αἱ πόλιες αὗται λέγουσι, τάδε 
+δὲ οἶδα Μεταποντίνοισι τοῖσι ἐν Irain συγκυ- 
+ρήσαντα μετὰ τὴν ἀφάνισιν τὴν δευτέρην ᾿Αριστέω 
+ἔτεσι τεσσεράκοντα καὶ διηκοσίοισι, ὡς ἐγὼ ovu- 
+βαλλόμενος ἐν Προκοννήσῳ τε καὶ Μεταποντίῳ 
+εὕρισκον. Μεταποντῖνοι φασὶ αὐτὸν ᾿Αριστέην 
+φανέντα σφι ἐς τὴν χώρην κελεῦσαι βωμὸν ᾿Απόλ- 
+
+
+214 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 13-15 
+
+
+by the Arimaspians, and the Scythians by the Isse- 
+dones, and the Cimmerians, dwelling by the southern 
+sea, were hard pressed by the Scythians and left 
+their country. Thus neither does Aristeas’ story 
+agree concerning this country with the Scythian 
+account. 
+
+14. Whence Aristeas came who wrote this I have 
+already said ; I will now tell the story which I heard 
+concerning him at Proconnesus and Cyzicus. It is 
+said that this Aristeas, who was as nobly born as any 
+of his townsmen, went into a fuller's shop at Pro- 
+connesus and there died; the fuller shut his work- 
+shop and went away to tell the dead man's kinsfolk, 
+and the report of Aristeas' death being now spread 
+about in the city, it was disputed by a man of Cyzicus, 
+who had come from the town of Artace,! and said 
+that he had met Aristeas going towards Cyzicus and 
+spoken with him. While he vehemently disputed, 
+the kinsfolk of the dead man had come to the fuller's 
+shop with all that was needful for burial; but when 
+the house was opened there was no Aristeas there, 
+dead oralive. But in the seventh year after that 
+Aristeas appeared at Proconnesus and made that 
+poem which the Greeks now call the Arimaspea, 
+after which he vanished once again. 
+
+15. Such is the tale told in these two towns. 
+But this, I know, befell the Metapontines in Italy, 
+two hundred and forty years after the second 
+disappearance of Aristeas, as reckoning made at 
+Proconnesus and Metapontium shows me: Aristeas, 
+so the Metapontines say, appeared in their country 
+and bade them set up an altar to Apollo, and set 
+
+
+1 A Milesian colony, the port of Cyzicus. 
+
+
+215 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+λωνος ἱδρύσασθαι καὶ ᾿Αριστέω τοῦ Προκοννησίου 
+ἐπωνυμίην ἔχοντα ἀνδριάντα παρ αὐτὸν ἱστάναι" 
+φάναι γάρ σφι τὸν Απόλλωνα Ιταλιωτέων μού- 
+νοισι δὴ ἀπικέσθαι ἐς τὴν χώρην, καὶ αὐτός οἱ 
+ἕπεσθαι ὁ νῦν ἐὼν ᾿Αριστέης' τότε δέ, ὅτε εἵπετο 
+τῷ θεῷ, εἶναι κόραξ. καὶ τὸν μὲν εἰπόντα ταῦτα 
+ἀφανισθῆναι, σφέας δὲ Μεταποντῖνοι λέγουσι ἐς 
+Δελφοὺς πέμψαντας τὸν θεὸν ἐπειρωτᾶν ὅ τι τὸ 
+φάσμα τοῦ ἀνθρώπου εἴη. τὴν δὲ Πυθίην σφέας 
+κελεύειν πείθεσθαι τῷ φάσματι, πειθομένοισι δὲ 
+ἄμεινον συνοίσεσθαι. καὶ σφέας δεξαμένους ταῦτα 
+ποιῆσαι ἐπιτελέα. καὶ νῦν ἕστηκε ἀνδριὰς ἐπω- 
+νυμίην ἔχων ᾿Αριστέω παρ᾽ αὐτῷ τῷ ἀγάλματι 
+τοῦ ᾿Απόλλωνος, πέριξ δὲ αὐτὸν δάφναι ἑστᾶσι: 
+τὸ δὲ ἄγαλμα ἐν τῇ ἀγορῇ ἵδρυται. ᾿Αριστέω μέν 
+νυν πέρι τοσαῦτα εἰρήσθω. 
+
+16. Τῆς δὲ γῆς, τῆς πέρι ὅδε ὁ λόγος ὅρμηται 
+λέγεσθαι, οὐδεὶς olde ἀτρεκέως ὅ.τι τὸ κατύπερθε 
+ἐστί: οὐδενὸς γὰρ δὴ αὐτόπτεω εἰδέναι φαμένου 
+δύναμαι πυθέσθαι" οὐδὲ γὰρ οὐδὲ ᾿Αριστέης, τοῦ 
+περ ὀλίγῳ πρότερον τούτων μνήμην ἐποιεύμην, 
+οὐδὲ οὗτος προσωτέρω ᾿Ισσηδόνων ἐν αὐτοῖσι τοῖσι 
+ἔπεσι ποιέων ἔφησε ἀπικέσθαι, ἀλλὰ τὰ κατύ- 
+περθε ἔλεγε ἀκοῇ, φὰς ᾿Ισσηδόνας εἶναι τοὺς ταῦτα 
+λέγοντας. ἀλλ ὅσον μὲν ἡμεῖς ἀτρεκέως ἐπὶ 
+μακρότατον οἷοί τε ἐγενόμεθα ἀκοῇ ἐξικέσθαι, πᾶν 
+εἰρήσεται. 
+
+17. ᾿Απὸ τοῦ Βορυσθενεϊτέων ἐμπορίου (τοῦτο 
+γὰρ τῶν παραθαλασσίων μεσαίτατον ἐστὶ πάσης 
+τῆς Σκυθίης), ἀπὸ τούτου πρῶτοι Καλλιππίδαι 
+νέμονται ἐόντες “Ελληνες Σκύθαι, ὑπὲρ δὲ τούτων 
+ἄλλο ἔθνος o? ᾿Αλαξόνες καλέονται. οὗτοι δὲ καὶ 
+
+
+216 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 15-17 
+
+
+beside it a statue bearing the name of Aristeas 
+the Proconnesian ; for, he said, Apollo had come to 
+their country alone of all Italiot lands, and he him- 
+self—who was now Aristeas, but then when he 
+followed the god had been a crow—had come with 
+him. Having said this, he vanished away. The 
+Metapontines, so they say, sent to Delphi and in- 
+quired of the god what the vision of the man might 
+be; and the Pythian priestess bade them obey the 
+vision, saying that their fortune would be the better ; 
+having received which answer they did as com- 
+manded. And now there stands beside the very 
+image of Apollo a statue bearing the name of 
+Aristeas ; a grove of laurels surrounds it; the image 
+is set in the market-place. Suffice it then that I 
+have said thus much of Aristeas. 
+
+16. As for the land of which my history has begun 
+to speak, no one exactly knows what lies northward 
+of it; for I can learn from none who claims to know 
+as an eyewitness. For even Aristeas, of whom I 
+lately made mention—even he did not claim to have 
+gone beyond the Issedones, no, not even in his poems ; 
+but he spoke of what lay northward by hearsay ; say- 
+ing that the Issedones had so told him. But as far 
+as we have been able to hear an exact report of the 
+farthest lands, all shall be set forth. 
+
+17. Northward of the port of the Borysthenites,} 
+which lies midway in the coastline of all Scythia, the 
+first inhabitants are the Callippidae, who are Scythian 
+Greeks; and beyond them another tribe called 
+Alazones ; these and the Callippidae, though in other 
+
+
+1 Another Milesian colony, called by Greeks generally 
+Olbia (the Fortunate) or Miletopolis; it was the most ime 
+portant Greek centre north of the Euxine. 
+
+
+217 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οἱ Καλλιππίδαι τὰ μὲν ἄλλα κατὰ ταὐτὰ Σκύθῃσι 
+ἐπασκέουσι, σῖτον δὲ καὶ σπείρουσι Kal σιτέονται, 
+καὶ | κρόμμυα καὶ σκόροδα καὶ φακοὺς καὶ κέγχρους. 
+ὑπὲρ δὲ ᾿Αλαξόνων οἰκέουσι Σκύθαι ἀροτῆρες, ot 
+οὐκ. ἐπὶ σιτήσι σπείρουσι τὸν σῖτον ἀλλ᾽ ἐπὶ 
+πρήσι. τούτων δὲ κατύπερθε οἰκέουσι Νευροί. 
+Νευρῶν δὲ τὸ πρὸς βορέην ἄνεμον ἔρημον ἀνθρώ- 
+πων, ὅσον ἡμεῖς. ἴδμεν. 
+
+18. Ταῦτα μὲν παρὰ τὸν "Ὕπανιν ποταμόν ἐστι 
+ἔθνεα πρὸς ἑσπέρης τοῦ Βορυσθένεος ἀτὰρ òia- 
+βάντι τὸν Βορυσθένεα ἀπὸ θαλάσσης πρῶτον μὲν 
+ἡ Ὑλαίη, ἆ ἀπὸ δὲ ταύτης ἄνω ἰόντι οἰκέουσι Σκύθαι 
+γεωργοί, Tous” EXAnves οἱ οἰκέοντες ἐπὶ τῷ Ὑπάνι 
+ποταμῷ καλέουσι Βορυσθενεΐτας, σφέας δὲ αὐτοὺς 
+᾿Ὀλβιοπολύτας. οὗτοι ὧν οἱ γεωργοὶ Σκύθαι 
+νέμονται τὸ μὲν πρὸς τὴν ἠῶ ἐπὶ τρεῖς ἡμέρας 
+ὁδοῦ, κατήκοντες ἐπὶ ποταμὸν τῷ οὔνομα κεῖται 
+Παντικάπης, τὸ δὲ πρὸς Βορέην ἄνεμον πλόον ἀνὰ 
+τὸν Βορυσθένεα ἡμερέων ἕνδεκα. ἤδη δὲ κατύ- 
+περθε τούτων ἡ ἔρημος ἐστὶ ἐπὶ πολλόν. μετὰ 
+δὲ τὴν ἔρημον ᾿Ανδροφάγοι οἰκέουσι, ἔθνος ἐὸν 
+ἴδιον καὶ οὐδαμῶς Σκυθικόν. τὸ δὲ τούτων κατύ- 
+περθε ἔρημον ἤδη ἀληθέως καὶ ἔθνος ἀνθρώπων 
+οὐδέν, ὅσον ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν. 
+
+19. Τὸ δὲ πρὸς τὴν. ἠῶ τῶν γεωργῶν τούτων 
+Σκυθέων, διαβάντι τὸν Παντικάπην ποταμόν, 
+νομάδες ἤδη Σκύθαι νέμονται, οὔτε τι σπείροντες 
+οὐδὲν οὔτε ἀροῦντες’ ψιλὴ δὲ δενδρέων 7 πᾶσα 
+αὕτη. πλὴν τῆς Ὑλαίης. οἱ δὲ νομάδες οὗτοι τὸ πρὸς 
+τὴν ἠῶ ἡμερέων τεσσέρων καὶ δέκα ὁδὸν νέμονται 
+χώρην κατατείνουσαν ἐπὶ ποταμὸν Γέρρον. 
+
+20. Πέρην δὲ τοῦ Γέρρου ταῦτα δὴ τὰ καλεύ- 
+218 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 17-20 
+
+
+matters they live like the Scythians, sow and eat 
+corn, and onions, garlic, lentils, and millet. Above 
+the Alazones dwell Scythian tillers of the land, who 
+sow corn not for eating but for selling; north of 
+these, the Neuri; to the north of the Neuri the 
+land is uninhabited so far as we know. 
+
+18. These are the tribes by the river Hypanis,! 
+westwards of the Borysthenes. But on the other 
+side of the Borysthenes the tribe nearest to the 
+sea is the tribe of the Woodlands; and north of 
+these dwell Scythian farmers, whom the Greek 
+dwellers on the Hypanis river (who call them- 
+selves Olbiopolitae) call Borystheneitae. These 
+farming Scythians inhabit a land stretching east- 
+ward a three days' journey to a river called Pan- 
+ticapes,? and northward as far as an eleven days’ 
+voyage up the Borysthenes; and north of these the 
+land is uninhabited for a long way; after which 
+desert is the country of the Man-eaters, who are a 
+nation by themselves and by no means Scythian ; 
+and beyond them is true desert, wherein no nation 
+of men dwells, as far as we know. 
+
+19. But to the east of these farming Scythians, 
+cross the river Panticapes, and you are in the land 
+of nomad Scythians, who sow nothing, nor plough ; 
+and all these lands except the Woodlands are bare 
+of trees. These nomads inhabit to the eastward a 
+country that stretches fourteen days’ journey to the 
+river Gerrus.? 
+
+20. Across the Gerrus are those lands called 
+
+
+! The Bug. 2 Not identified. 3 Not identified. 
+219 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μενα βασιλήια ἐστὶ καὶ Σκύθαι οἱ ἄριστοί τε καὶ 
+πλεῖστοι καὶ τοὺς ἄλλους νομίζοντες Σκύθας δού- 
+λους σφετέρους εἶναι" κατήκουσι δὲ οὗτοι τὸ μὲν 
+πρὸς μεσαμβρίην ἐ ἐς τὴν Ταυρικήν, τὸ δὲ πρὸς ἠῶ 
+ἐπί τε τάφρον, τὴν δὴ οἱ ἐκ τῶν τυφλῶν γενόμενοι 
+ὤρυξαν, καὶ ἐπὶ τῆς λίμνης τῆς Μαιήτιδος τὸ 
+ἐμπόριον τὸ καλέεται Κρημνοί' τὰ δὲ αὐτῶν kath- 
+κουσι ἐπὶ ποταμὸν Τάναϊν. τὰ δὲ κατύπερθε 
+πρὸς Βορέην à ἄνεμον τῶν βασιληίων Σκυθέων οἰκέ- 
+ουσι Μελάγχλαινοι, ἄλλο ἔθνος καὶ οὐ Σκυθικόν. 
+Μελαγχλαίνων δὲ τὸ κατύπερθε λύμναι καὶ ἔρημο: 
+ἐστὶ ἀνθρώπων, κατόσον ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν. 
+
+21. Τάναϊν δὲ ποταμὸν. διαβάντι οὐκέτι Σκυ- 
+θική, ἀλλ᾽ 7 μὲν πρώτη τῶν λαξίων Σαυροματέων 
+ἐστί, οἳ ἐκ τοῦ μυχοῦ ἀρξάμενοι τῆς Μαιήτιδος 
+λύμνης νέμονται τὸ πρὸς βορέην ἄνεμον ἡμερέων 
+πεντεκαίδεκα ὁδόν, πᾶσαν ἐοῦσαν ψιλὴν καὶ 
+ἀγρίων καὶ ἡμέρων δενδρέων" ὑπεροικέουσι δὲ 
+τούτων δευτέρην λάξιν ἔ ἔχοντες Βουδῖνοι, γῆν νεμό- 
+μενοι πᾶσαν δασέαν ὕλῃ παντοίῃ. 
+
+22. Βουδίνων δὲ .κατύπερθε πρὸς Βορέην ἐστὶ 
+πρώτη μὲν ἔρημος ἐπ᾽ ἡμερέων ἑπτὰ ὁδόν, μετὰ δὲ 
+τὴν ἔρημον ἀποκλίνοντι μᾶλλον πρὸς ἀπηλιώτην 
+ἄνεμον νέμονται Θυσσαγέται, ἔθνος πολλὸν καὶ 
+ἴδιον" ξῶσι δὲ ἀπὸ θήρης. συνεχέες δὲ τούτοισι 
+ἐν τοῖσι αὐτοῖσι τὀποισι .κατοικημένοι εἰσὶ τοῖσι 
+οὔνομα κεῖται Ἰύρκαι, καὶ οὗτοι ἀπὸ θήρης ζῶντες 
+τρόπῳ τοιῷδε" λοχᾷ ἐπὶ δένδρεον ἀναβάς, τὰ δὲ 
+ἐστὶ πυκνὰ ἀνὰ πᾶσαν τὴν χώρην" ἵππος δὲ 
+ἑκάστῳ δεδιδαγμένος ἐπὶ γαστέρα κεῖσθαι ταπει- 
+VOTHTOS εἵνεκα ἕτοιμος ἐστὶ καὶ κύων" ἐπεὰν δὲ 
+ἀπίδῃ τὸ θηρίον ἀπὸ τοῦ δενδρέου, τοξεύσας ἐπι- 
+
+
+220 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 20-22 
+
+
+Royal, where are the best and most in number 
+of the Scythians, who deem all other Scythians their 
+slaves; their territory stretches southward to the 
+Tauric land, and eastward to the fosse that was 
+dug by the sons of the blind men, and on the 
+Maeetian lake to the port called The Cliffs}; 
+and part of it stretches to the river Tanais. Above 
+the Royal Scythians to the north dwell the Black- 
+cloaks, who are of another and not a Scythian 
+stock; and beyond the Blackcloaks the.land is 
+all marshes and uninhabited by men, so far as 
+we know. 
+
+21. Across the Tanais it is no longer Scythia; the 
+first of the divisions belongs to the Sauromatae, whose 
+country begins at the inner end of the Maeetian lake 
+and stretches fifteen days’ journey to the north, and 
+is all bare of both forest and garden trees. Above 
+these in the second division dwell the Budini, in- 
+habiting a country thickly overgrown with trees of 
+all kinds. 
+
+22. Northward of the Budini the land is unin- 
+habited for seven days' journey; after this desert, 
+and somewhat more towards the east wind, dwell 
+the Thyssagetae, a numerous and a separate nation, 
+living by the chase. Adjoining these and in the 
+same country dwell the people called Iyrkae ; these 
+also live by the chase, in such manner as I will show. 
+The hunter climbs a tree, and there sits ambushed ; 
+for trees grow thick all over the land ; and each man 
+has his horse at hand, trained to couch upon its 
+. belly for lowliness' sake, and his dog; and when he 
+, marks the quarry from the tree, he shoots with the 
+
+
+! Apparently on the west coast of the Sea of Azov; 
+cp. 110. 
+
+
+221 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Bas ἐπὶ τὸν ἵππον διώκει, καὶ ὁ κύων ἔχεται. 
+ὑπὲρ δὲ τούτων τὸ πρὸς τὴν ἠῶ ἀποκλίνοντι οἰκέ- 
+ουσι Σκύθαι ἄλλοι, ἀπὸ τῶν. βασιληίων Σκυθέων 
+ἀποστάντες καὶ οὕτω ἀπικόμενοι ἐς τοῦτον τὸν 
+χῶρον. 
+
+23. Mé p. μὲν δὴ τῆς τούτων τῶν Σκυθέων 
+χώρης ἐστὶ ἡ καταλε θεῖσα πᾶσα πεδιάς τε γῆ 
+καὶ βαθύγαιος, τὸ ὃ ἀπὸ τούτου λιθώδης T ἐστὶ 
+καὶ τρηχέα., διεξελθόντι δὲ καὶ τῆς τρηχέης χώρης 
+πολλὸν οἰκέουσι ὑπώρεαν ὀρέων ὑψηλῶν à ἄνθρωποι 
+λεγόμενοι εἶναι πάντες φαλακροὶ ἐ ἐκ γενετῆς γινό- 
+μενου, καὶ ἔρσενες καὶ θήλεαι ὁμοίως, καὶ σιμοὶ 
+καὶ γένεια ἔχοντες μεγάλα, φωνὴν δὲ ἰδίην ἱ ἱέντες, 
+ἐσθῆτι δὲ χρεώμενοι Σκυθικῇ, ζῶντες δὲ ἀπὸ 
+δενδρέων. ποντικὸν μὲν οὔνομα τῷ δενδρέῳ ἀπ 
+οὗ ζῶσι, μέγαθος δὲ κατὰ συκέην μάλιστά κη. 
+καρπὸν δὲ φορέει κυάμφ ἴσον, πυρῆνα δὲ ἔχει. 
+τοῦτο ἐπεὰν γένηται πέπον, σακκέουσι ἱματίοισι, 
+ἀπορρέει δὲ ἀπ᾽ αὐτοῦ παχὺ καὶ μέλαν" οὔνομα 
+δὲ τῷ ἀπορρέοντι ἐστὶ ἄσχυ' τοῦτο καὶ λεί ουσι 
+καὶ γάλακτι συμμίσγοντες πίνουσι, καὶ ἀπὸ τῆς 
+παχύτητος αὐτοῦ τῆς τρυγὸς παλάθας συντιθεῖσι 
+καὶ ταύτας σιτέονται. πρόβατα γάρ σφι οὐ 
+
+πολλά ἐστι' οὗ γάρ τι σπουδαῖαι αἱ νομαὶ αὐτόθι 
+εἰσί. ὑπὸ δενδρέῳ δὲ ἕκαστος κατοίκηται, τὸν 
+μὲν χειμῶνα ἐπεὰν τὸ δένδρεον περικαλύψῃ πίλῳ 
+στεγνῷ λευκῷ, τὸ δὲ θέρος ἄνευ πίλου. τούτους 
+οὐδεὶς ἀδικέει ἀνθρώπων" ἱροὶ γὰρ λέγονται εἶναι" 
+οὐδέ τι ἀρήιον ὅπλον ἐκτέαται. καὶ τοῦτο μὲν 
+τοῖσι περιοικέουσι οὗτοι εἰσὶ οἱ τὰς διαφορὰς 
+
+
+222 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 22-23 
+
+
+bow and mounts his horse and pursues after it, till 
+the dog grips the prey. Beyond these and sómewhat 
+towards the east dwell Scythians again, who revolted 
+from the Royal Scythians and so came to this country. 
+
+23. As far as the country of these Scythians all 
+the aforesaid land is level and its soil is deep; but 
+thereafter it is stony and rough. After a long 
+passage through this rough country, there are men 
+inhabiting the foothills of high mountains, who are 
+said to be all bald from their birth (male and female 
+alike) and snub-nosed and with long beards; they 
+speak a tongue of their own, and wear Scythian 
+raiment, and their fare comes from trees. _ The tree 
+wherefrom they live is called “ Pontic” ; it is about 
+the size of a fig-tree, and bears a fruit as big as a 
+bean, with a stone in it. When this fruit is ripe, 
+they strain it through cloth, and a thick black 
+liquid flows from it, which they call *aschu"'!; 
+they lick this up or mix it with milk for drinking, 
+and of the thickest of the lees of it they make cakes, 
+and eat them. For they have but few of smaller 
+cattle, the pasture in their land not being good. 
+They dwell each man under a tree, covering it in 
+winter with a white felt cloth, but using no felt in 
+summer. These people are wronged by no man, for 
+they are said to be sacred; nor have they any 
+weapon of war. These are they who judge in the 
+quarrels between their neighbours ; moreover, what- 
+
+
+1 The fruit of the ‘‘ Prunus Padus” is said to be made by 
+the Cossacks into a drink called ‘‘ atschi.” 
+
+
+223 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+διαιρέοντες, τοῦτο δὲ ὃς ἂν φεύγων καταφύγῃ ἐς 
+τούτους, ὑπ οὐδενὸς ἀδικέεται. οὔνομα δέ σφι 
+ἐστὶ ᾿Αργιππαῖοι. 
+
+24, Μέχρι μέν νυν τῶν φαλακρῶν τούτων 
+πολλὴ περιφανείη τῆς χώρης ἐστὶ κα τῶν ἔμπρο- 
+σθε ἐθνέων' καὶ γὰρ Σκυθέων τινὲς ἀπικνέονται 
+ἐς αὐτούς, τῶν οὐ χαλεπόν ἐστι πυθέσθαι καὶ 
+Ἑλλήνων τῶν ἐκ Βορυσθένεός τε ἐμπορίου καὶ 
+τῶν ἄλλων Ποντικῶν ἐμπορίων" Σκυθέων δὲ οἳ ἂν 
+ἔλθωσι ἐς αὐτούς, δι’ ἑπτὰ ἑρμηνέων καὶ δι’ ἑπτὰ 
+γλωσσέων διαπρήσσονται. 
+
+25. Μέχρι μὲν δὴ τούτων γινώσκεται, τὸ δὲ τῶν 
+φαλακ Gv κατύπερθε οὐδεὶς ἆ ἀτρεκέως οἶδε φράσαι. 
+ὄρεα γὰρ ὑψηλὰ à ἀποτάμνει ἄβατα καὶ οὐδείς σφεα 
+ὑπερβαίνει. οἱ δὲ φαλακροὶ οὗτοι λέγουσι, ἐμοὶ 
+μὲν οὐ πιστὰ λέγοντες, οἰκέειν τὰ ὄρεα αἰγίποδας 
+ἄνδρας, ὑπερβάντι δὲ τούτους ἀνθρώπους. ἄλλους 
+οἳ τὴν ἑξάμηνον κατεύδουσι. τοῦτο δὲ οὐκ ἐνδέ- 
+κομαι τὴν ἀρχήν, ἀλλὰ τὸ μὲν πρὸς ἠῶ τῶν 
+φαλακρῶν γινώσκεται ἀτρεκέως ὑπὸ Ἰσσηδόνων 
+οἰκεόμενον, τὸ μέντοι κατύπερθε πρὸς βορέην 
+ἄνεμον οὐ γινώσκεται οὔτε τῶν φαλακρῶν οὔτε 
+τῶν Ἰσσηδόνων, εἰ μὴ ὅσα αὐτῶν τούτων λεγόντων. 
+
+26. Νόμοισι δὲ ᾿Ισσηδόνες τοῖσιδε λέγονται 
+χρᾶσθαι. — ἐπεὰν ἀνδρὶ ἀποθάνῃ πατήρ, οἱ προσ- 
+NKOVTES πάντες προσάγουσι πρόβατα, καὶ ἔπειτα 
+ταῦτα θύσαντες καὶ καταταμόντες τὰ κρέα κατα- 
+τάμνουσι καὶ τὸν τοῦ δεκομένου τεθνεῶτα γονέα, 
+ἀναμίξαντες δὲ πάντα τὰ κρέα δαῖτα προτίθενται" 
+τὴν δὲ κεφαλὴν αὐτοῦ γιλώσαντες καὶ ἐκκαθή- 
+pavres καταχρυσοῦσι καὶ ἔπειτα ἅτε ἀγάλματι 
+χρέωνται, θυσίας μεγάλας ἐπετείους ἐπιτελέοντες. 
+224 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΥ. 21-26 
+
+
+ever banished man has taken refuge with them is 
+wronged by none. They are called Argippeans. 
+
+24. Now as far as the land of these bald men we 
+have full knowledge of the country and the nation 
+on the hither side of them ; for some of the Scythians 
+make their way to them, from whom it is easy to 
+get knowledge, and from some too of the Greeks 
+from the Borysthenes port and the other ports of 
+Pontus; such Scythians as visit them do their 
+business with seven interpreters and in seven 
+languages. | 
+
+20. So far then as these men this country is 
+known; but, for what lies beyond the bald men, no 
+one can speak with exact knowledge ; for mountains 
+high and impassable bar the way, and no man crosses 
+them. These bald men say (but for my part I 
+believe them not) that the mountains are inhabited 
+by men with goats’ feet; and that beyond these 
+again are men who sleep for six months of the 
+twelve. This I cannot at all accept for true. But the 
+country east of the bald-heads is known for certain 
+to be inhabited by the Issedones ; howbeit, of what 
+lies northward either of the bald-heads or the 
+Issedones we have no knowledge, save what comes 
+from the report of these latter. 
+
+26. It is said to be the custom of the Issedones, 
+that whenever a man's father dies, all the nearest of 
+kin bring beasts of the flock, and having killed these 
+and cut up the flesh they cut up also the dead 
+father of their host, and set out all the flesh mingled 
+together for a feast. As for his head, they strip it 
+bare and cleanse and gild it, and keep it for a sacred 
+relic, whereto they offer yearly solemn sacrifice. Every 
+
+
+225 
+
+
+VOL. II. Q 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+παῖς δὲ πατρὶ τοῦτο ποιέει, κατά περ EXANVES τὰ 
+γενέσια. ἄλλως δὲ δίκαιοι καὶ οὗτοι λέγονται εἶναι, 
+ἰσοκρατέες δὲ ὁμοίως αἱ γυναῖκες τοῖσι ἀνδράσι. 
+27. Γινώσκονται μὲν δὴ καὶ οὗτοι, τὸ δὲ ἀπὸ 
+τούτων τὸ κατύπερθε Ἰσσηδόνες εἰσὶ οἱ λέγοντες 
+μουνοφθάλμους ἀνθρώπους καὶ χρυσοφύλακας 
+γρῦπας εἶναι' παρὰ δὲ τούτων Σκύθαι παραλα- 
+βόντες λέγουσι, παρὰ δὲ Σκυθέων ἡμεῖς οἱ ἄλλοι 
+νενομίκαμεν καὶ ὀνομάζομεν αὐτοὺς σκυθιστὶ 
+᾿Αριμασπούς' pipa γὰρ ἓν καλέουσι Σκύθαι, 
+σποῦ δὲ ὀφθαλμόν. 
+. 28. Δυσχείμερος δὲ αὕτη ἡ καταλεχθεῖσα πᾶσα 
+χώρη οὕτω δή τι ἐστί, ἔνθα τοὺς μὲν ὀκτὼ τῶν 
+μηνῶν ἀφόρητος οἷος γίνεται κρυμός, ἐν τοῖσι ὕδωρ 
+ἐκχέας πηλὸν οὐ ποιήσεις, πῦρ δὲ ἀνακαίων ποιή- 
+σεις πηλόν! ἡ δὲ θάλασσα πήγνυται καὶ ὁ 
+Βόσπορος πᾶς ὁ Κιμμέριος, καὶ ἐπὶ τοῦ κρυ- 
+στάλλου οἱ ἐντὸς τάφρου Σκύθαι κατοικημένοι 
+στρατεύονται καὶ τὰς ἁμάξας ἐπελαύνουσι πέρην 
+ἐς τοὺς Σίνδους. οὕτω μὲν δὴ τοὺς ὀκτὼ μῆνας 
+διατελέει χειμὼν ἐών, τοὺς δ᾽ ἐπιλοίπους τέσσερας 
+ψύχεα αὐτόθι ἐστί. κεχώρισται δὲ οὗτος ὁ χειμὼν 
+τοὺς τρόπους πᾶσι τοῖσι ἐν ἄλλοισι χωρίοισι 
+γινομένοισι χειμῶσι, ἐν τῷ τὴν μὲν ὡραίην οὐκ 
+Čet λόγου ἄξιον οὐδέν, τὸ δὲ θέρος ὕων οὐκ ἀνιεῖ 
+βρονταί τε ἦμος τῇ ἄλλη γίνονται, τηνικαῦτα μὲν 
+οὐ γίνονται, θέρεος δὲ ἀμφιλαφέες' ἣν δὲ χειμῶνος 
+βροντὴ γένηται, ὡς τέρας νενόμισται θωμάξεσθαι. 
+ὣς δὲ καὶ ἦν σεισμὸς γένηται ἤν τε θέρεος ἤν τε 
+χειμῶνος ἐν τῇ Σκυθικῇ, τέρας νενόμισται. ἵπποι 
+δὲ ἀνεχόμενοι φέρουσι τὸν χειμῶνα τοῦτον, ἡμίονοι 
+1 [πηλόν] Stein. 
+220 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 26-28 
+
+
+son does so by his father, even as the Greeks 
+in their festivals in honour of the dead. For 
+the rest, these also are said to be a law-abiding 
+people; and the women have equal power with 
+the men. | l 
+
+27. Of these then also we have knowledge; but 
+for what is northward of them, it is from the Isse- 
+dones that the tale comes of the one-eyed men and 
+the gritfins that guard gold; this is told: by the 
+Scythians, who have heard it from them; and we 
+again have taken it for true from the Scythians, and 
+call these people by the Scythian name, Arimaspians ; ` 
+for in the Scythian tongue arima is one, and spou 
+is the eye. 
+
+28. All this aforementioned country is exceed- 
+ing cold; for eight months of every year there is 
+frost unbearable, and in these you shall not make 
+mud by pouring out water but by lighting a fire ; 
+the sea freezes, and all the Cimmerian Bosporus ; 
+and the Scythians dwelling this side of the fosse 
+lead armies over the ice, and drive their wains across 
+to the land of the Sindi. So it is ever winter for 
+eight months, and it is cold in that country for the 
+four that remain. Here is a winter of a different 
+sort from the winters that come in other lands; for 
+in the season for rain there falls scarce any, but for 
+all the summer there is rain unceasing ; and when 
+there are thunderstorms in other lands, here there 
+are none, but in summer there is great plenty of . 
+them; if there come a thunderstorm in winter they 
+are wont to marvel at it for a portent. And so too 
+if there come an earthquake, be it in summer or 
+winter, it is esteemed a portent in Scythia. Horses 
+have endurance to bear the Scythian winter, mules 
+
+
+227 
+Q 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δὲ οὐδὲ ὄνοι οὐκ ἀνέχονται ἀρχήν" τῇ δὲ ἄλλῃ 
+ἵπποι μὲν ἐν κρυμῷ ἑστεῶτες ἀποσφακελίζουσι, 
+ὄνοι δὲ καὶ ἡμίονοι ἀνέχονται. 
+
+29. Δοκέει δέ μοι καὶ τὸ γένος τῶν βοῶν τὸ 
+κόλον διὰ ταῦτα ov φύειν κέρεα c αὐτόθι: μαρτυρέει 
+δέ pòt τῇ γνώμη καὶ Ὁμήρου ἔπος ἐν Ὀδυσσείῃ 
+ἔχον ὧδε, 
+
+
+καὶ Λιβύην, ὅθι τ᾽ ἄρνες ἄφαρ repao τελέ- 
+θουσι, 
+
+
+᾿ὀρθῶς εἰρημένον, ἐν τοῖσι θερμοῖσι ταχὺ παραγί- 
+νεσθαι τὰ κέρεα, | ἐν δὲ τοῖσι ἰσχυροῖσι γύχεσι ἢ 
+οὗ φύειν κέρεα τὰ κτήνεα ἀρχὴν ἢ φύοντα Quei 
+μόγις. 
+
+30. ᾿Ενθαῦτα μέν νυν διὰ τὰ ψύχεα γίνεται 
+ταῦτα. θωμάξω δέ (προσθήκας γὰρ δή μοι ὁ λό- 
+γος ἐξ ἆ ἀρχῆς ἐδίξητο) ὅ ὅτι ἐν τῇ ᾿Ηλείῃ πάσῃ χώρῃ 
+οὐ δυνέαται γίνεσθαι ἡμίονοι, οὔτε .Ὑυχροῦ τοῦ 
+χώρου ἐόντος οὔτε ἄλλου φανεροῦ αἰτίου οὐδενός. 
+φασὶ δὲ αὐτοὶ ᾿Ηλεῖοι ἐκ κατάρης Tev οὐ γίνεσθαι 
+σφίσι ἡμιόνους, ἀλλ᾽ ἐπεὰν προσίῃ ἡ ὥρη rvi- 
+σκεσθαι τὰς ἵππους, ἐξελαύνουσι ἐς τοὺς πλησιο- 
+χώρους αὐτάς, καὶ ἔπειτά σφι ἐν τῇ τῶν πέλας 
+ἐπιεῖσι τοὺς ὄνους, ἐς οὗ ἂν σχῶσι αἱ ἵπποι ἐν 
+γαστρί' ἔπειτα δὲ ἀπελαύνουσι. 
+
+31. Περὶ δὲ τῶν πτερῶν THD Σκύθαι λέγουσι 
+ἀνάπλεον εἶναι τὸν ἠέρα, καὶ τούτων εἵνεκα οὐκ 
+οἷοί τε εἶναι οὔτε ἰδεῖν τὸ πρόσω τῆς ἠπείρου οὔτε 
+διεξιέναι, τήνδε ἔ ἔχω περὶ αὐτῶν γνώμην" τὰ κατ- 
+ὕπερθε ταύτης τῆς χώρης. αἰεὶ νίφεται, ἐλάσσονι 
+δὲ τοῦ θέρεος ἢ ἢ τοῦ χειμῶνος, ὥσπερ καὶ οἰκός. 
+ἤδη ὧν ὅστις ἀγχόθεν χιόνα ἁδρὴν πίπτουσαν 
+
+
+228 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 28-31 
+
+
+and asses cannot at all bear it; yet in other lands, 
+whereas asses and mules can endure frost, horses 
+that stand in it are frostbitten. 
+
+29. And to my thinking it is for this cause that 
+the hornless kind of oxen grows no horns in Scythia. 
+There is a verse of Homer in the ο ο that 
+witnesses to my judgment ; it is this: 
+
+
+* Libya, the land where lambs are born with horns 
+on their foreheads," 
+
+
+wherein it is rightly signified, that in hot countries 
+the horns grow quickly, whereas in very cold 
+countries beasts grow horns hardly, or not at all. 
+
+30. In Scythia, then, this happens because of the 
+cold. But I hold it strange (for it was ever the way 
+of my history to seek after subsidiary matters) that 
+in the whole of Elis no mules can be begotten, 
+albeit neither is the country cold nor is there any 
+manifest cause. The Eleans themselves say that 
+it is by reason of a curse that mules cannot be 
+begotten among them; but whenever the season 
+is at hand for the mares to conceive, they drive them 
+away into the countries of their neighbours, and 
+then send the asses to them in the neighbouring 
+land, till the mares be pregnant; and then they 
+drive them home again, 
+
+Jl. But as touching the feathers whereof the 
+Scythians say that the air is full, insomuch that none 
+can see or traverse the land beyond, I hold this 
+opinion. Northward of that country snow falls con- 
+tinually, though less in summer than in winter, as is 
+to be expected. Whoever has seen snow falling 
+thickly near him knows of himself my meaning ; for 
+
+
+229 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+εἶδε, olde τὸ λέγω" ἔοικε γὰρ ἡ χιὼν πτεροῖσι' 
+καὶ διὰ τὸν χειμῶνα τοῦτον ἐόντα τοιοῦτον ἀνοί- 
+κητα τὰ πρὸς βορέην ἐστὶ τῆς ἠπείρου ταύτης. 
+τὰ ὧν πτερὰ εἰκάζοντας τὴν χιόνα τοὺς Σκύθας τε 
+καὶ τοὺς περιοίκους δοκέω λέγειν. ταῦτα μέν νυν 
+τὰ λέγεται μακρότατα εἴρηται. | 
+
+32. Ὑπερβορέων δὲ πέρι ἀνθρώπων οὔτε τι 
+
+4 HE NA » s » ^ 7 
+Σκύθαι λέγουσι οὐδὲν οὔτε τινὲς ἄλλοι τῶν ταύτῃ 
+
+, / , M y 9 / ε » A 
+οἰκημένων, εἰ μὴ apa Ἰσσηδόνε, ὡς δὲ ἐγὼ 
+δοκέω, οὐδ᾽ οὗτοι λέγουσι οὐδέν' ἔλεγον γὰρ ἂν 
+
+. 4 e ^ / / 
+καὶ Σκύθαι, ὡς περὶ τῶν μουνοφθάλμων λέγουσι, 
+ἀλλ Ἡσιόδῳ μὲν ἐστὶ περὶ Ὑπερβορέων εἰρη- 
+
+/ » € 4 3 , [4 > M ^ 
+μένα, ἔστι δὲ καὶ Ὁμήρῳ ἐν ᾿Επιγόνοισι, εἰ δὴ τῷ 
+ἐόντι γε "Όμηρος ταῦτα τὰ ἔπεα ἐποίησε. 
+
+33. Πολλῷ δέ τι πλεῖστα περὶ αὐτῶν Δήλιοι 
+λέγουσι, φάμενοι ἱρὰ ἐνδεδεμένα ἐν καλάμῃ πυρῶν 
+ἐξ Ὑπερβορέων φερόμενα ἀπικνέεσθαι ἐς Σκύθας, 
+ἀπὸ δὲ Σκυθέων ἤδη δεκομένους αἰεὶ τοὺς πλησιο- 
+χώρους ἑκάστους κομίξειν αὐτὰ τὸ πρὸς ἑσπέρης 
+ε , EA b! , / 9 ^ N . 
+ἑκαστάτω ἐπὶ τὸν ᾿Αδρίην, ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ πρὸς 
+μεσαμβρίην προπεμπόμενα πρώτους Δωδωναίους 
+Ἑλλήνων δέκεσθαι, ἀπὸ δὲ τούτων καταβαίνειν 
+ἐπὶ τὸν Μηλιέα κόλπον καὶ διαπορεύεσθαι ἐς 
+Εὔβοιαν, πόλιν τε ἐς πόλιν πέμπειν μέχρι Καρύ- 
+
+. * 3 N 4 9 ^ v 
+στου, τὸ Ò ἀπὸ ταύτης ἐκλιπεῖν ᾿Ανδρον' Kapv- 
+στίους γὰρ εἶναι τοὺς κομίζοντας ἐς Τῆνον, 
+Τηνίους δὲ ἐς Δῆλον. ἀπικνέεσθαι μέν νυν οὕτω 
+
+
+230 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 31-33 
+
+
+the snow is like feathers; and by reason of the 
+winter, which is such as I have said, the parts to the 
+north of this continent are uninhabited. I think 
+therefore that in this tale of feathers the Scythians 
+and their neighbours do but speak of snow in a 
+figure. Thus then I have spoken of those parts that 
+are said to be most distant. 
+
+32. Concerning the Hyperborean people neither 
+the Scythians nor any other dwellers in these lands 
+tell us anything, except perchance the Issedones. 
+And, as I think, even they tell nothing; for were it 
+not so, then the Scythians too would have told, even 
+as they tell of the one-eyed men. But Hesiod speaks 
+of Hyperboreans, and Homer too in his poem The 
+Heroes’ Sons,! if that be truly the work of Homer. 
+
+33. But the Delians? tell much more concerning 
+them than do anyothers. They say that offerings wrapt 
+in wheat-straw are brought from the Hyperboreans 
+to Scythia; when they have passed Scythia, each 
+nation in turn receives them from its neighbours till 
+they are carried to the Adriatic sea, which is the 
+most westerly limit of their journey; thence they 
+are brought on to the south, the people of Dodona 
+being the first Greeks to receive them. From 
+Dodona they come down to the Melian gulf, and are 
+carried across to Euboea, and city sends them on to 
+city till they come to Carystus ; after this, Andros is 
+left out of their journey, for it is Carystians who carry 
+them to Tenos, and Tenians to Delos. Thus (they 
+
+1 One of the ‘‘ Cyclic” poems ; a sequel to the '' Thebais" 
+(story of the seven against Thebes). 
+
+2 This Delian story about the Hyperboreans is additional 
+evidence of the known fact that trade routes from the earliest 
+
+
+times linked northern with south-eastern Europe. Amber in 
+especial was carried from the Baltic to the Aegean. 
+
+
+231 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ταῦτα τὰ ipa λέγουσι ἐς Δῆλον: πρῶτον δε τοὺς 
+Ὑπερβορέους πέμψαι φερούσας τὰ ἱρὰ δὺο κόρας, 
+τὰς ὀνομάξουσι Δήλιοι. εἶναι Ὑπερόχην τε καὶ 
+Λαοδίκην" ἅμα δὲ αὐτῆσι ἀσφαλείης εἵνεκεν 
+πέμψαι τοὺς Ὑπερβορέους τῶν ἀστῶν ἄνδρας 
+πέντε πομπούς, τούτους οἳ νῦν Περφερέες καλέ- 
+ονται τιμὰς μεγάλας ἐν Δήλῳ ἔχοντες. ἐπεὶ δὲ 
+τοῖσι Ὑπερβορέοισι τοὺς ἀποπεμφθέντας, ὀπίσω 
+οὐκ ἀπονοστέειν, δεινὰ ποιευμένους εἰ ναι αἰεὶ 
+καταλάμψεται ἀποστέλλοντας μὴ ἀπο exer Gan, 
+οὕτω δὴ φέροντας ἐς τοὺς οὔρους τὰ ἱρὰ ἐνδεδε- 
+μένα ἐν πυρῶν καλάμῃ. τοὺς πλησιοχώρους 
+ἐπισκήπτειν κελεύοντας προπέμπειν σφέα ἀπὸ 
+ἑωυτῶν ἐς ἄλλο ἔθνος. καὶ ταῦτα μὲν οὕτω προ- 
+πεμπόμενα ἀπικνέεσθαι λέγουσι ἐς Δῆλον. | οἶδα 
+δὲ αὐτὸς τούτοισι τοῖσι ἱροῖσι. τόδε ποιεύμενον 
+προσφερές, τὰς Θρηικίας καὶ τὰς Παιονίδας 
+γυναῖκας, ἐπεὰν θύωσι τῇ ᾿Αρτέμιδι, τῇ βασιλείῃ, 
+οὐκ ἄνευ πυρῶν καλάμης ἐχούσας τὰ ἱρά. 
+
+34. Καὶ ταῦτα μὲν δὴ ταύτας οἶδα ποιεύσας" 
+τῇσι δὲ παρθένοισι ταύτῃσι τῇσι ἐξ Ὑπερβορέων 
+τελευτησάσῃσι ἐν Δήλῳ κείρονται καὶ αἱ κόραι 
+καὶ οἱ παῖδες οἱ Δηλίων' αἱ μὲν πρὸ γάμου TO- 
+καμον ἀποταμνόμεναι καὶ περὶ ἄτρακτον εἷλύ- 
+ξασαι ἐπὶ τὸ σῆμα τιθεῖσι (τὸ δὲ σῆμα ἐστὶ ἔσω 
+ἐς τὸ ᾿Αρτεμίσιον ἐσιόντι ἀριστερῆς χειρός, ἐπι- 
+πέφυκε δέ οἱ ἐλαίη), ὅσοι δὲ παῖδες τῶν Δηλίων, 
+περὶ χλόην τινὰ εἱλίξαντες τῶν τριχῶν τιθεῖσι 
+καὶ οὗτοι ἐπὶ τὸ σῆμα. 
+
+35. Αὗται μὲν δὴ ταύτην τιμὴν ἔχουσι πρὸς 
+τῶν Δήλου οἰκητόρων. φασὶ δὲ οἱ αὐτοὶ οὗτοι 
+καὶ τὴν " Apygv τε καὶ τὴν Ὦπιν ἐούσας παρθέ- 
+
+
+232 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 33-35 
+
+
+say) these offerings come to Delos. But on the first 
+journey the Hyperboreans sent two maidens bearing 
+the offerings, to whom the Delians give the names 
+Hyperoche and Laodice, sending with them for safe 
+conduct five men of their people as escort, those who 
+are now called Perpherees! and greatly honoured at 
+Delos. But when the Hyperboreans found that those 
+whom they sent never returned, they were very ill 
+content that it should ever be their fate not to receive 
+their messengers back; wherefore they carry the 
+offerings, wrapt in wheat-straw, to their borders, and 
+charge their neighbours to send them on from (heir 
+own country to the next ; and the offerings, it is said, 
+come by this conveyance to Delos. I can say of my 
+own knowledge that there is a custom like these 
+offerings, namely, that when the Thracian and 
+Paeonian women sacrifice to the Royal Artemis, they 
+have wheat-straw with them while they sacrifice. 
+
+34. This I know that they do. The Delian girls 
+and boys cut their hair in honour of these Hyperborean 
+maidens, who died at Delos; the girls before their 
+marriage cut off a tress and lay it on the tomb, 
+wound about a spindle ; this tomb is at the foot of an 
+olive-tree, on the left hand of the entrance of the 
+temple of Artemis; the Delian boys twine some of 
+their hair round a green stalk, and they likewise lay 
+it on the tomb. 
+
+35. Thus then are these maidens honoured by the 
+inhabitants of Delos. These same Delians relate 
+that two virgins, Arge and Opis, came from the 
+
+
+1 That is, probably, the Bearers. 
+233 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+νους ἐξ Ὑπερβορέων κατὰ τοὺς αὐτοὺς τούτους 
+ἀνθρώπους πορευομένας ἀπικέσθαι ἐς Δῆλον ἔτι 
+πρότερον Ὑπερόχης τε καὶ Λαοδίκης. ταύτας 
+μέν νυν τῇ Εἰλειθυΐίη ἀποφερούσας ἀντὶ τοῦ 
+ὠκυτόκου τὸν ἐτάξαντο φόρον ἀπικέσθαι, τὴν δὲ 
+᾿Αργην τε καὶ τὴν Ὠπιν ἅμα αὐτοῖσι θεοῖσι 
+ἀπικέσθαι λέγουσι καί σφι τιμὰς ἄλλας δεδόσθαι 
+πρὸς σφέων" καὶ γὰρ ἀγείρειν σφι τὰς γυναῖκας 
+ἐπονομαξούσας τὰ οὐνόματα ἐν τῷ ὕμνῳ τόν σφι 
+᾿Ωλὴν ἀνὴρ Λύκιος ἐποίησε, παρὰ δὲ σφέων μα- 
+θόντας νησιώτας τε καὶ Ἴωνας ὑμνέειν Ὠπίν τε 
+καὶ "Άργην ὀνομάξοντάς τε καὶ ἀγείροντας (οὗτος 
+δὲ ὁ ο ;Ὠλὴν καὶ τοὺς ἄλλους τοὺς παλαιοὺς ὕμνους 
+ἐποίησε ἐς Λυκίης ἐλθὼν τοὺς ἀειδομένους ἐν 
+Δήλῳ), καὶ τῶν μηρίων καταγιξομένων ἐπὶ τῷ 
+βωμῷ τὴν σποδὸν ταύτην ἐπὶ τὴν θήκην τῆς 
+"Ontos τε καὶ “Apyys -ἀναισιμοῦσθαι ἐπιβαλλο- 
+μένην. ἡ δὲ θήκη αὐτέων ἐστὶ ὄπισθε τοῦ 'A ρτε- 
+μισίου, πρὸς ἠῶ τετραμμένη, ἀγχοτάτω τοῦ 
+Κηίων ἱστιητορίου. 
+
+36. Καὶ ταῦτα μὲν Ὑπερβορέων πέρι εἰρήσθω" 
+τὸν γὰρ περὶ ᾿Αβά LOS λόγον. τοῦ λεγομένου εἶναι 
+
+Ὑπερβορέου οὐ A ASA ὡς} τὸν ὀιστὸν περιέφερε 
+κατὰ πᾶσαν γῆν οὐδὲν σιτεύμενος. εἰ δὲ εἰσὶ 
+ὑπερβόρε t τινὲς ἄνθρωποι, εἰσὶ καὶ ὑπερνότιοι 
+ἄλλοι. “γελῶ δὲ ὁρέων γῆς περιόδους γράψαντας 
+πολλὺς ἤδη καὶ οὐδένα νοονεχόντως ἐξηγησά- 
+μενον" ot Ὠκεανόν τε ῥέοντα. γράφουσι πέριξ τὴν 
+γῆν ἐοῦσαν κυκλοτερέα ὡς ἀπὸ τόρνου, καὶ τὴν 
+᾿Ασίην τῇ Εὐρώπη ποιεύντων ἴσην. ἐν ὀλίγοισι 
+γὰρ ἐγὼ ἠλώσω peyabos τε ἑκάστης αὐτέων kal 
+οἷη τις ἐστὶ ἐς γραφὴν ἑκάστη. 
+234 [λέγων] ὡς Stein. 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 35-36 
+
+
+(Hyperboreans by way of the peoples aforesaid to 
+Delos, yet earlier than the coming of Hyperoche 
+and Laodice; these latter came to bring to Ilithyia 
+the tribute whereto they had agreed for ease of 
+child-bearing ; but Arge and Opis, they say, came 
+‘with the gods themselves, and received honours 
+of their own from the Delians. For the women 
+collected gifts for them, calling upon their names 
+in the hymn made for them by Olen a man of 
+Lycia; it was from Delos that the islanders and 
+Ionians learnt to sing hymns to Opis and Arge, 
+‘calling upon their names and collecting gifts (this 
+Olen after his coming from Lycia made also the 
+other and ancient hymns that are sung at Delos). 
+Further they say that when the thighbones are burnt 
+in sacrifice on the altar, the ashes of them are all 
+used for casting on the burial-place of Opis and Arge ; 
+which burial-place is behind the temple of Artemis, 
+looking eastwards, nearest to the refectory of the 
+people of Ceos. 
+
+36. Thus far have I spoken of the Hyperboreans, 
+and let it suffice; for I do not tell the story of that 
+Abaris, alleged to be a Hyperborean, who carried 
+the arrow over the whole world, fasting the while. 
+But if there be men beyond the north wind, then 
+ithere are others beyond the south. And I laugh to 
+isee how many have ere now drawn maps of the 
+world, not one of them showing the matter reason- 
+'ably; for they draw the world as round as if fashioned 
+by compasses, encircled by the river of Ocean, and 
+Asia and Europe of a like bigness. For myself, I 
+will in a few words show the extent of the two, and 
+how each should be drawn. 
+
+
+1 Apollo and Artemis, probably. 
+235 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+37. Πέρσαι οἰκέουσι κατήκοντες ἐπὶ τὴν νοτίην. 
+θάλασσαν τὴν ᾿Ερυθρὴν καλεομένην, τούτων δὲ ᾽ 
+ὑπεροικέουσι πρὸς βορέην ἄνεμον Μῆδοι, Μήδων. 
+δὲ Σάσπειρες, Σασπείρων δὲ Κόλχοι κατήκοντες. 
+ἐπὶ τὴν βορηΐην θάλασσαν, ἐ ἐς τὴν Φᾶσις ποταμὸς 
+ἐκδιδοῖ. ταῦτα τέσσερα ἔθνεα οἰκέει ἐκ θαλάσσης 
+ἐς θάλασσαν. ' 
+
+38. ᾿Ενθεῦτεν δὲ τὸ πρὸς ἑσπέρης ἀκταὶ διφά- 
+σιαι ἀπ᾽ αὐτῆς κατατείνουσι, ἐς θάλασσαν, τὰς. 
+ἐγὼ ἀπηγήσομαι" ἔνθεν μὲν ἡ ἀκτὴ ἡ ἑτέρη τὰ 
+πρὸς βορέην ἀπὸ Φάσιος ἀρξαμένη παρατέταται) 
+ἐς θάλασσαν παρά τε τὸν llóvrov καὶ τὸν 'EA-| 
+λήσποντον μέχρι Zuyetou Tob T ρωικοῦ" τὰ δὲ 
+πρὸς νότου ἡ αὐτὴ αὕτη ἀκτὴ ἀπὸ τοῦ Μυριαν- 
+δικοῦ κόλπου τοῦ πρὸς Φοινίκῃ κειμένου τείνει τὰ 
+ἐς θάλασσαν μέχρι Τριοπίου ἄκρης. οἰκέει δὲ ἐν 
+τῇ ἀκτῇ ταύτῃ ἔθνεα ἀνθρώπων τριήκοντα. 
+
+39. Αὕτη μέν νυν ἡ ἑτέρη τῶν ἀκτέων, ἡ δὲ δὴ 
+ἑτέρη ἀπὸ Περσέων ἀρξαμένη παρατέταται ἐς τὴν 
+᾿Ερυθρὴν θάλασσαν, ij ἤ τε Περσικὴ καὶ ἀπὸ ταύτης] 
+ἐκδεκομένη ἡ ᾿Ασσυρίη καὶ ἀπὸ ᾿Ασσυρίης ἡ. 
+᾿Αραβίη: λήγει δὲ αὕτη, οὐ λήγουσα εὐ μὴ νόμῳ, 
+ἐς τὸν κόλπον τὸν ᾿Αράβιον, ἐς τὸν Δαρεῖος ἐκ 
+τοῦ Νείλου «διώρυχα ἐσήγαγε. μέχρι μέν νυν 
+Φοινίκης ἆ ἀπὸ Περσέων χῶρος πλατὺς καὶ πολλς 
+ἐστι. τὸ δὲ ἀπὸ Φοινίκης παρήκει διὰ τῆσδε τῆς 
+θαλάσσης ἡ ἀκτὴ αὕτη παρά τε Συρίην τὴν 
+Παλαιστίνην καὶ Αἴγυπτον, ἐς τὴν τελευτᾷ: ἐν 
+τῇ ἔθνεα ἐστὶ τρία μοῦνα. 
+
+40. Ταῦτα μὲν ἀπὸ Περσέων τὰ πρὸς ἑσπέρην 
+τῆς ᾿Ασίης ἔχοντα ἐστί: τὰ δὲ κατύπερθε Ilep- 
+
+
+236 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 37-40 
+
+
+| 37. The land where the Persians dwell reaches to 
+ithe southern sea, that sea which is called Red; 
+‘beyond these to the north are the Medes, and 
+beyond the Medes the Saspires, and beyond the 
+Saspires the Colchians, whose country reaches to 
+'the northern sea! into which issues the river Phasis ; 
+'so these four nations dwell between the one sea and 
+the other. 
+
+38. But westwards of this region two promontories 
+stretch out from it into the sea, which I will now 
+idescribe. On the north side one of the promontories 
+, begins at the Phasis and stretches seaward along the 
+. Pontus and the Hellespont, as far as Sigeum in the 
+Troad ; on the south side the same promontory has 
+a seacoast beginning at the Myriandric gulf that is 
+, near Phoenice, and stretching seaward as far as the 
+_Triopian headland. On this promontory dwell thirty 
+‘nations. 
+
+39. This is the first promontory. But the second, 
+beginning with Persia, stretches to the Red Sea, 
+‘being the Persian land, and next the neighbouring 
+‘country of Assyria, and after Assyria, Arabia; this 
+|promontory ends (yet not truly but only by common 
+consent) at the Arabian Gulf, whereunto Darius 
+|brought a canal from the Nile. Now from the 
+Persian country to Phoenice there is a wide and 
+great tract of land; and from Phoenice this pro- 
+.montory runs beside our sea by the way of the 
+Syrian Palestine and Egypt, which is at the end of 
+„it; iu this promontory there are but three nations. 
+
+40. So much for the parts of Asia west of the 
+Persians. But what is beyond the Persians, and 
+
+
+1 Here, the Black Sea; in 42, the “northern sea” is the 
+Mediterranean. 
+
+
+237 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+σέων καὶ Μήδων καὶ Σασπείρων καὶ Κόλχων, τὰ 
+
+πρὸς ἠῶ τε καὶ ἥλιον ἀνατέλλοντα, ἔνθεν μὲν ἡ 
+
+b] . / F4 . , e 
+
+Ερυθρὴ παρήκει θάλασσα, πρὸς βορέω δὲ ἡ 
+ε / e 
+
+ασπίη τε θάλασσα καὶ ὁ ᾿Αράξης ποταμός, ῥέων 
+
+πρὸς ἥλιον ἀνίσχοντα. μέχρι δὲ τῆς ᾿Ινδικῆς 
+
+
+οἰκέεται ᾿Ασίη' τὸ δὲ ἀπὸ ταύτης ἔρημος ἤδη τὸ. 
+
+
+πρὸς τὴν ἠῶ, οὐδὲ ἔχει οὐδεὶς φράσαι οἷον δή τι 
+ἐστί. | 
+/ 
+41. Τοιαύτη μὲν καὶ τοσαύτη ἡ Acin ἐστί, ἡ 
+\ ΄ 3 a 3 ^ ae / H , 9 \ M > / 
+δὲ Λιβύη ἐν τῇ ἀκτῇ τῇ ἑτέρῃ cori: ἀπὸ γὰρ Αἰγύ- 
+πτου Λιβύη ἤδη ἐκδέκεται. κατὰ μέν νυν Αἴγυπτον 
+ἡ ἀκτὴ αὕτη στεινή ἐστι' ἀπὸ γὰρ τῆσδε τῆς 
+θαλάσσης ἐς τὴν ᾿Ερυθρὴν θάλασσαν δέκα pupi- 
+άδες εἰσὶ ὀργυιέων, αὗται δ᾽ ἂν εἶεν χίλιοι στάδιοι" 
+τὸ δὲ ἀπὸ τοῦ στεινοῦ τούτου κάρτα πλατέα 
+VA 3 ^ e 9 \ ο / / 
+τυγχάνει ἐοῦσα ἡ ἀκτὴ ἥτις Λιβύη κέκληται. 
+42, Θωμάξω ὧν τῶν διουρισάντων καὶ διελόν- 
+ή 9 , \ > ’ , \ 
+των Λιβύην τε καὶ ᾿Ασίην καὶ Ἑὐρώπην' οὐ. γὰρ 
+N ; - 
+σμικρὰ τὰ διαφέροντα αὐτέων ἐστί' ^ μήκεῖ μὲν 
+3 
+γὰρ παρ ἀμφοτέρας παρήκει ἡ Βὐρώπη, εὔρεος 
+δὲ πέρι οὐδὲ συμβάλλειν ἀξίη φαίνεταί μοι εἶναι. 
+Λιβύη μὲν γὰρ δηλοῖ ἑωυτὴν 1 ἐοῦσα περίρρυτος, 
+πλὴν ὅσον αὐτῆς πρὸς τὴν ᾿Ασίην οὐρίζει, Nexo 
+τοῦ Αἰγυπτίων βἀσιλέος πρώτου τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν 
+καταδέξαντος' ὃς ἐπείτε τὴν διώρυχα ἐπαύσατο 
+> ^ . 
+ὀρύσσων τὴν ἐκ τοῦ Νείλου διέχουσαν ἐς τὸν 
+, / / » 4 7 y ὃ 
+Ἀράβιον κόλπον, ἀπέπεπψε «Φοίνικας ἄνδρας 
+πλοίοισι, ἐντειλάμενος ἐς τὸ ὀπίσω δι “Ηρακλέων 
+? / ο , M / 4 
+στηλέων ἐκπλέειν ἕως ἐς τὴν βορηίην θάλασσαν 
+ε 
+καὶ οὕτω ἐς Αἴγυπτον ἀπικνέεσθαι. ὁρμηθέντες 
+Φ e / , ^ , ^ 4 Ld 
+ὧν οἱ Φοίνικες ἐκ τῆς Βρυθρῆς θαλάσσης ἔπλεον 
+1 [ἑωυτήν] Stein. 
+
+
+218 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 40-42 
+
+
+Medes, and Saspires, and Colchians, eastward and 
+toward the rising sun, this is bounded on the one 
+hand by the Red Sea, and to the north by the 
+Caspian Sea, and the river Araxes, that flows towards 
+the sun’s rising. As far as India, Asia is an in- 
+habited land; but thereafter all to the east is 
+desert, nor can any man say what kind of land is 
+there. 
+
+41. Such is Asia, and such its extent. But Libya 
+is on this second promontory ; for Libya comes next 
+
+
+. after Egypt. The Egyptian part of this promontory 
+
+
+is narrow ; for from our sea to the Red Sea it is a 
+distance of an hundred thousand fathoms, that is, a 
+thousand furlongs; but after this narrow part the 
+promontory which is called Libya is very broad. 
+
+42. I wonder, then, at those who have mapped 
+out and divided the world into Libya, Asia, and 
+Europe; for the difference between them is great, 
+seeing that in length Europe stretches along both 
+the others together, and it appears to me to be 
+beyond all comparison broader. For Libya shows 
+clearly that it is encompassed by the sea, save only 
+where it borders on Asia; and this was proved first 
+(as far as we know) by Necos king of Egypt. He, 
+when he had made an end of digging the canal 
+which leads from the Nile to the Arabian Gulf, sent 
+Phoenicians in ships, charging them to sail on their 
+return voyage past the Pillars of Heracles till they 
+should come into the northern sea and so to Egypt. 
+So the Phoenicians set out from the Red Sea and 
+
+
+239 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τὴν νοτίην θάλασσαν' ὅκως δὲ γίνοιτο φθινό- 
+. ^ 
+πωρον, προσσχόντες ἂν σπείρεσκον THY γῆν, ἵνα 
+e^ 2 la 
+ἑκάστοτε τῆς Λιβύης πλέοντες γινοίατο, καὶ pé- 
+νεσκον τὸν ἄμητον' θερίσαντες ὃ ἂν τὸν σῖτον 
+’ τὸ 
+ἔπλεον, ὥστε δύο ἐτέων διεξελθόντων τρίτῳ ἔτεϊ 
+κάμψαντες Ἡρακλέας στήλας ἀπίκοντο ἐς Ai- 
+. 9 . b! 9 ΄ » ~ 
+γυπτον. καὶ ἔλεγον ἐμοί μὲν οὐ πιστά, ἄλλῳ δὲ 
+/ e , . 7 b ν 
+δή Tew, ὡς περιπλώοντες τὴν Λιβύην τὸν ἥλιον 
+ἔσχον ἐς τὰ δεξιά. | | 
+43. Οὕτω μὲν αὕτη ἐγνώσθη τὸ πρῶτον, μετὰ 
+. / 9 N e [4 9 r4 
+δὲ Καρχηδόνιοι εἰσὶ οἱ λέγοντες" ἐπεὶ Σατάσπης 
+ε 4 3 A > , 9 , 
+ye ὁ Τεάσπιος ἀνὴρ ᾿Αχαιμενίδης οὐ περιέπλωσε 
+Λιβύην, ἐπ᾽ αὐτὸ τοῦτο πεμφθείς, ἀλλὰ δείσας 
+^ A ’ ^ 
+τό τε μῆκος τοῦ πλόου καὶ τὴν ἐρημίην ἀπῆλθε 
+3 , 909 3 ’ A 93 / / e e 4 
+ὀπίσω, οὐδ᾽ ἐπετέλεσε τὸν ἐπέταξέ οἱ ἡ μήτηρ 
+ἄεθλον. θυγατέρα γὰρ Ζωπύρου τοῦ Μεγαβύζου 
+9 / / y / 9 ^ 
+ἐβιήσατο παρθένον' ἔπειτα μέλλοντος αὐτοῦ διὰ 
+, A > / 2 - ε 8ο 
+ταύτην τὴν αἰτίην ἀνασκολοπιεῖσθαι ὑπὸ Ξέρξεω 
+βασιλέος, ἡ μήτηρ τοῦ Σατάσπεος ἐοῦσα Δαρείου 
+2 . , ^ 4 e 9 4 / ld 
+ἀδελφεὴ παραιτήσατο, paca οἱ αὐτὴ µέζω ζημίην 
+ἐπιθήσειν ἤ περ ἐκεῖνον' Λιβύην γάρ οἱ ἀνάγκην 
+ἔσεσθαι περιπλώειν, ἐς ὃ ἂν ἀπίκηται περιπλέων 
+αὐτὴν ἐς τὸν ᾿Αράβιον κόλπον. συγχωρήσαντος 
+δὲ Ξέρξεω ἐπὶ τούτοισι, ὁ Σατάσπης ἀπικόμενος 
+ἐς Αἴγυπτον καὶ λαβὼν νέα τε καὶ ναύτας παρὰ 
+΄ y 9 X 6ο /, , , 
+τούτων έπλεε ἐπι Ηρακλέας στήλας" διεκπλώσας 
+δὲ καὶ κάμψας τὸ ἀκρωτήριον τῆς Λιβύης τῷ 
+» [4 9 J » `~ , r 
+οὔνομα Σολόεις ἐστί, ἔπλεε πρὸς μεσαμβρίην' περή- 
+240 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 42-43 
+
+
+sailed the southern sea; whenever autumn came 
+they would put in and sow the land, to whatever part 
+of Libya they might come, and there await the 
+harvest; then, having gathered in the crop, they 
+sailed on, so that after two years had passed, it 
+was in the third that they rounded the Pillars of 
+Heracles and came to Egypt. There they said (what 
+some may believe, though I do not) that in sailing 
+round Libya they had the sun on their right hand.! 
+43. Thus the first knowledge of Libya was gained. 
+The next story is that of the Carchedonians : for as 
+for Sataspes son of Teaspes, an Achaemenid, he did 
+not sail round Libya, though he was sent for that end ; 
+but he feared the length and the loneliness of the 
+voyage and so returned back without accomplishing 
+the task laid upon him by his mother. For he had 
+raped the virgin daughter of Zopyrus son of Mega- 
+byzus; and when on this charge he was to be im- 
+paled by King Xerxes, Sataspes mother, who was 
+Darius’ sister, begged for his life, saying that she 
+would lay a heavier punishment on him than did 
+Xerxes; for he should be compelled to sail round 
+Libya, till he completed his voyage and came to the 
+Arabian Gulf. Xerxes agreeing to this, Sataspes 
+went to Egypt, where he received a ship and a crew 
+from the Egyptians, and sailed past the Pillars of 
+Heracles. Having sailed out beyond them, and 
+rounded the Libyan promontory called Solois,? he 
+
+
+1 The detail which Herodotus does not believe incidentally 
+confirms the story; as the ship sailed west round the Cape 
+of Good Hope, the sun of the southern hemisphere would be 
+on its right. Most authorities now accept the story of the 
+circumnavigation. 
+
+3 Probably Cape Cantin, in the latitude of Madeira. 
+
+
+241 
+VOL. II. R 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+σας δὲ θάλασσαν πολλὴν ἐν πολλοῖσι μήσί, ἐπείτε 
+τοῦ πλεῦνος αἰεὶ ἔδεε, ἀποστρέψας ὀπίσω ἀπέπλεε 
+ἐς Αἴγυπτον. ἐκ δὲ ταύτης ἀπικόμενος παρὰ 
+βασιλέα Ξέρξεα ἔλεγε φὰς τὰ προσωτάτω av- 
+θρώπους μικροὺς παραπλέειν ἐσθῆτι φοινικηίῃ 
+ιαχρεωµένους, ot ὅκως σφεῖς καταγοίατο τῇ νηὶ 
+φεύγεσκον πρὸς τὰ ὄρεα λείποντες τὰς πόλιας" 
+αὐτοὶ δὲ ἀδικέειν οὐδὲν ἐσιόντες, βρωτὰ δὲ μοῦνα 
+ἐξ αὐτέων λαμβάνειν. τοῦ δὲ μὴ περιπλῶσαι 
+Λιβύην παντελέως αἴτιον τόδε ἔλεγε, τὸ πλοῖον 
+τὸ πρόσω οὐ δυνατὸν ἔτι εἶναι προβαίνειν ἀλλ 
+ἐνίσχεσθαι. Ἐϊέρξης δὲ οὔ οἱ συγγινώσκων λέγειν 
+ἀληθέα οὐκ ἐπιτελέσαντά τε τὸν προκείμενον 
+ἄεθλον ἀνεσκολόπισε, τὴν ἀρχαίην δίκην ἐπιτι- 
+μῶν. τούτου δὲ τοῦ Σατάσπεος εὐνοῦχος ἀπέδρη 
+ἐς Σάμον, ἐπείτε ἐπύθετο τάχιστα τὸν δεσπότεα 
+τετελευτηκότα, ἔχων χρήματα μεγάλα, τὰ Σάμιος 
+ἀνὴρ κατέσχε, τοῦ ἐπιστάμενος τὸ οὔνομα ἑκὼν 
+ἐπιλήθομαι. 
+
+44. Τῆς δὲ ᾿Ασύης τὰ πολλὰ ὑπὸ Δαρείου 
+ἐξευρέθη, ὃς βουλόμενος Ἰνδὸν ποταμόν, ὃς κροκο- 
+δείλους δεύτερος οὗτος ποταμῶν πάντων παρέ- 
+χεται, τοῦτον τὸν ποταμὸν εἰδέναι τῇ ἐς θάλασσαν 
+ἐκδιδοῖ, πέμπει πλοίοισι ἄλλους τε τοῖσι ἐπίστευε 
+τὴν ἀληθείην ἐρέειν καὶ δὴ καὶ Σκύλακα ἄνδρα 
+Καρυανδέα. of δὲ ὁρμηθέντες ἐκ Κασπατύρου τε 
+πόλιος καὶ τῆς Πακτυϊκῆς γῆς ἔπλεον κατὰ ποτα- 
+μὸν πρὸς ἠῶ τε καὶ ἡλίου ἀνατολὰς ἐς θάλασσαν, 
+διὰ θαλάσσης δὲ πρὸς ἑσπέρην πλέοντες τριη- 
+κοστῷ μηνὶ ἀπικνέονται ἐς τοῦτον τὸν χῶρον ὅθεν 
+ὁ Αἰγυπτίων βασιλεὺς τοὺς Φοίνικας τοὺς πρό- 
+τερον εἶπα ἀπέστειλε περιπλώειν Λιβύην. μετὰ 
+
+
+242 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 43-44 
+
+
+sailed southward; but when he had been many 
+months sailing far over the sea, and ever there was 
+more before him, he turned back and made sail for 
+Egypt. Thence coming to Xerxes, he told in his 
+story how when he was farthest distant he sailed by 
+a country of little men, who wore palm-leaf raiment; 
+these, whenever he and his men put in to land with 
+their ship, would ever leave their towns and flee 
+to the hills; he and his men did no wrong when 
+they Janded, and took naught from the people but 
+what they needed for eating. As to his not sailing 
+wholly round Libya, the reason (he said) was that 
+the ship could move no farther, but was stayed. 
+But Xerxes did not believe that Sataspes spoke 
+truth, and as the task appointed was unfulfilled he 
+impaled him, punishing him on the charge first 
+brought against him. This Sataspes had an eunuch, 
+who as soon as he heard of his master’s death es- 
+caped to Samos, with a great store of wealth, of 
+which a man of Samos possessed himself. I know 
+the man’s name but of set purpose forget it. 
+
+44, But as to Asia, most of it was discovered by 
+Darius. There is a river Indus, in which so many 
+crocodiles are found that only one river in the world 
+has more. Darius, desiring to know where this 
+Indus issues into the sea, sent ships manned by 
+Scylax, a man of Caryanda, and others in whose 
+word he trusted ; these set out from the city Cas- 
+patyrus and the Pactyic country, and sailed down 
+the river towards the east and the sunrise till they 
+came to the sea; and voyaging over the sea west- 
+wards, they came in the thirtieth month to that 
+place whence the Egyptian king sent the Phoeni- 
+cians afore-mentioned to sail round Libya. After 
+
+
+243 
+R 2 
+
+
+" HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δὲ τούτους περιπλώσαντας Ἰνδούς τε κατεστρέ- 
+ψατο Δαρεῖος καὶ τῇ θαλάσσῃ ταύτῃ ἐχρᾶτο. 
+οὕτω καὶ τῆς ᾿Ασίης, πλὴν τὰ πρὸς ἥλιον ἀνί- 
+σχοντα, τὰ ἄλλα ἀνεύρηται ὅμοια παρεχομένη τῇ 
+Λιβύη. 
+
+45. Ἡ δὲ Εὐρώπη πρὸς οὐδαμῶν φανερή ἐστι 
+γινωσκομένη, οὔτε τὰ πρὸς ἥλιον ἀνατέλλοντα 
+οὔτε τὰ πρὸς βορέην, εἰ περίρρυτος ἐστί: μηκεῖ 
+δὲ γινώσκεται παρ᾽ ἀμφοτέρας παρήκουσα. οὐδ᾽ 
+ἔχω συμβαλέσθαι ἐ ἐπ᾽ ὅτευ μιῇ ἐούσῃ γῇ οὐνόματα 
+τριφάσια κέεται ἐπωνυμίας ἔχοντα γυναικῶν, καὶ 
+οὐρίσματα αὐτῇ Νεῖλός τε ὁ Αἰγύπτιος ποταμὸς 
+ἐτέθη καὶ Φᾶσις ὁ Κόλχος (οἳ δὲ Τάναϊν ποταμὸν 
+τὸν Μαιήτην καὶ πορθµήια τὰ Κιμμέρια λέγουσι), 
+οὐδὲ τῶν διουρισάντων τὰ οὐνόματα πυθέσθαι, 
+καὶ ὅθεν ἔθεντο τὰς ἐπωνυμίας. ἤδη γὰρ Λιβύη 
+μὲν ἐπὶ Λιβύης λέγεται ὑπὸ τῶν πολλών Ἑλλή- 
+νων ἔχειν τὸ οὔνομα γυναικὸς αὐτόχθονος, 5 δὲ 
+᾿Ασίη ἑ ἐπὶ τῆς Ἱρομηθέος γυναικὸς τὴν ἐπωνυμίην. 
+καὶ τούτου μὲν µεταλαμβάνονται τοῦ οὐνόματος 
+Avéot, φάμενοι ἐπὶ ᾿Ασίεω τοῦ Κότυος τοῦ Μάνεω 
+κεκλῆσθαι τὴν ᾿Ασίην, ἀλλ᾽ οὐκ ἐπὶ τῆς Προμη- 
+θέος ᾿Ασίης: ἀπ᾽ ὅτευ καὶ τὴν ἐν Σάρδισι φυλὴν 
+κεκλῆσθαι ᾿Ασιάδα. ἡ δὲ δὴ Εὐρώπη οὔτε εἰ 
+περίρρυτος ἐστὶ γινώσκεται πρὸς οὐδαμῶν ἀνθρώ- 
+πων, οὔτε ὁκόθεν τὸ οὔνομα ἔλαβε τοῦτο, οὔτε 
+ὅστις οἱ ἦν 0 θέμενος φαίνεται, εὖ μὴ ἀπὸ τῆς 
+Tupins φήσομεν Εὐρώπης λαβεῖν τὸ οὔνομα τὴν 
+χώρην" πρότερον ὲ ἡ ἦν ἄρα ἀνώνυμος ὥσπερ αἱ 
+ἕτεραι. ἀλλ) αὕτη γε ἐκ τῆς ᾿Ασίης τε φαίνεται 
+ἐοῦσα καὶ οὐκ ἀπικομένη ἐς τὴν γῆν ταύτην ἥτις 
+νῦν ὑπὸ Ἑλλήνων Εὐρώπη καλέεται, ἀλλ᾽ ὅσον 
+
+
+244 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 44-45 
+
+
+this circumnavigation Darius subdued the Indians 
+and made use of this sea. Thus was it discovered 
+that Asia, saving the parts towards the rising sun, 
+was in other respects like Libya. 
+
+45. But of Europe it is plain that none have 
+obtained knowledge of its eastern or its northern 
+parts so as to say if it is encompassed by seas; its 
+length is known to be enough to stretch along both 
+Asia and Libya. Nor can I guess for what reason 
+the earth, which is one, has three names, all of 
+women, and why the boundary lines set for it are 
+the Egyptian river Nile and the Colchian river 
+Phasis (though some say that the Maeetian river 
+Tanais and the Cimmerian Ferries! are boundaries); 
+nor can I learn the names of those who divided the 
+world, or whence they got the names which they 
+gave. For Libya is said by most Greeks to be called 
+after a native woman of that name, and Asia after 
+the wife of Prometheus?; yet the Lydians claim a 
+share in the latter name, saying that Asia was not 
+called after Prometheus' wife Asia, but after Asies, 
+the son of Cotys, who was the son of Manes, and 
+that from him the Asiad clan at Sardis also takes its 
+name. But as for Europe, no men have any know- 
+ledge whether it be surrounded or not by seas, nor 
+whence it took its name, nor is it clear who gave the 
+name, unless we are to say that the land took its 
+name from the Tyrian Europa, having been (as it 
+would seem) till then nameless like the others. But 
+it is plain that this woman was of Asiatic birth, and 
+never came to this land which the Greeks now call 
+
+
+1 cp. ch. 12. 
+2 The Fire-giver celebrated by Aeschylus and Shelley ; 
+Asia is one of the principal characters in Prometheus Unbound. 
+
+
+245 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐκ Φοινίκης ἐς Κρήτη», ἐκ Κρήτης δὲ ἐς Λυκίην. 
+ταῦτα μέν νυν ἐπὶ τοσοῦτον εἰρήσθω' τοῖσι γὰρ 
+νομιζομένοισι αὐτῶν χρησόμεθα. 
+
+46. 'O δὲ Πόντος ó Εὔξεινος, ἐπ᾽ ὃν ἐστρα- 
+τεύετο ὁ Δαρεῖος, χωρέων. πασέων παρέχεται, ἔξω 
+τοῦ Σκυθικοῦ ἔθνεα ἀμαθέστατα. οὔτε γὰρ ἔθνος 
+τῶν ἐντὸς ToU Πόντου οὐδὲν ἔχομεν προβαλέσθαι 
+σοφίης πέρι οὔτε ἄνδρα λόγιον οἴδαμεν γενόμενον, 
+πάρεξ τοῦ Σκυθικοῦ ἔθνεος καὶ ᾿Αναχάρσιο.. τῷ 
+δὲ Σκυθικῷ γένεϊ ἓν μὲν τὸ μέγιστον τῶν ἀνθρω- 
+πηίων πρηγμάτων σοφώτατα πάντων ἐξεύρηται 
+τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν, τὰ μέντοι, ἄλλα οὐκ ἄγαμαι" τὸ 
+δὲ μέγιστον οὕτω σφι ἀνεύρηται ὥστε ἀποφυγεῖν 
+τε μηδένα ἐπελθόντα ἐπὶ σφέας, μὴ βουλομένους 
+τε ἐξευρεθῆναι καταλαβεῖν μὴ οἷόν τε εἶναι. τοῖσι 
+γὰρ μήτε ἄστεα μήτε τείχεα 7 ἐκτισμένα, ἀλλὰ 
+φερέοικοι. ἐόντες πάντες ἔωσι ἱπποτοξόται, ζῶντες 
+μὴ ἀπ᾽ ἀρότου ἀλλ᾽ ἀπὸ κτηνέων, οἰκήματά Τε 
+σφι ᾖ ἐπὶ ζευγέων, κῶς οὐκ ἂν εἴησαν οὗτοι ἅμαχοί | 
+τε καὶ ἄποροι προσμίσγειν;ᾶ 
+
+47. ᾿Εξεύρηται δέ σφι ταῦτα τῆς τε γῆς ἐούσης 
+ἐπιτηδέης καὶ τῶν ποταμῶν ἐόντων σφι συμμάχων. 
+jj τε γὰρ y ἐοῦσα πεδιὰς αὕτη ποιώδης τε καὶ 
+εὔυδρος é ἐστί, ποταμοί τε δι αὐτῆς ῥέουσι οὐ πολλῷ © 
+τεῳ ἆ ιθμὸν ἐλάσσονες τῶν ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ διωρύχων. 
+ὅσοι é ὀνομαστοί τε εἰσὶ αὐτῶν καὶ ο. Tol 
+ἀπὸ θαλάσσης, τούτους óvouavéo! . . Ἴστρος 
+μὲν πεντάστομος, μετὰ δὲ Τύρης τε καὶ Ὕπανις 
+καὶ Βορυσθένης καὶ Παντικάπης καὶ Ὑπάκυρις 
+καὶ Γέρρος καὶ Τάναϊς. ῥέουσι δὲ οἶδε κατὰ τάδε. 
+
+48. Ἴστρος μέν, ἐὼν μέγιστος ποταμῶν πάντων 
+
+1 Something is omitted, εἰσὶ δὲ ὀκτὼ οἵδε or the like. 
+246 
+
+
+BOOK 1V. 45-48 
+
+
+Europe, but only from Phoenice to Crete and from 
+Crete to Lycia. Thus far have I spoken of these 
+matters, and let it suffice; we will use the names by 
+custom established. 
+
+46. Nowhere are men seen so dull-witted (1 say not 
+this of the Scythian nation) as in the lands by the 
+Euxine Pontus, against which Darius led his army. 
+For we cannot show that any nation on the hither 
+side of the Pontus has aught of cleverness, nor do 
+we know (not reckoning the Scythian nation and 
+Anacharsis) of any notable man born there. But 
+the Scythian race has in that matter which of all 
+human affairs is of greatest import made the cleverest 
+discovery that we know; I praise not the Scythians 
+in all respects, but in this greatest matter they have 
+so devised that none who attacks them can escape, 
+and none can catch them if they desire not to be 
+found. For when men have no stablished cities 
+or fortresses, but all are house-bearers and mounted 
+archers, living not by tilling the soil but by cattle- 
+rearing and carrying their dwellings on waggons, 
+how should these not be invincible and unapproach- 
+able? 
+
+47. This invention they have made in a land which 
+suits their purpose and has rivers which are their 
+allies ; for their country is level and grassy and well 
+watered and rivers run through it not greatly fewer 
+than the canals of Egypt. As many of them as are 
+famous and can be entered from the sea, these I will 
+name. . . . There is the Ister, that has five mouths, 
+and next, the Tyras, and Hypanis, and Borysthenes, 
+and Panticapes, and Hypacuris, and Gerrhus, and 
+Tanais. Their courses are as I will show. 
+
+48. The Ister, the greatest of all rivers known to 
+
+
+247 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν, ἴσος αἰεὶ αὐτὸς ἑωυτῷ ῥέει καὶ 
+θέρεος καὶ χειμῶνος, πρῶτος δὲ τὸ ἀπ᾽ ἑσπέρης 
+τῶν ἐν τῇ Σκυθικῇ ῥέων κατὰ τοιόνδε μέγιστος 
+γέγονε" ποταμῶν καὶ ἄλλων ἐς αὐτὸν ἐκδιδόντων 
+εἰσὶ δὴ οἶδε οἱ μέγαν αὐτὸν ποιεῦντες, διὰ μέν 
+ye τῆς Σκυθικῆς χώρης πέντε μὲν οἱ ῥέοντες, 
+τόν τε Σκύθ αν Πόρατα καλέουσι Ελληνες δὲ 
+Πυρετόν, καὶ ἄλλος Τιάραντος καὶ "A papos TE 
+Kat Νάπαρις καὶ Ὀρδησσός. ὁ μὲν πρῶτος 
+λεχθεὶς τῶν ποταμῶν μέγας καὶ πρὸς ἠῶ ῥέων 
+ἀνακοινοῦται τῷ Ἴστρῳ τὸ ὕδωρ, ὁ δὲ δεύτερος 
+λεχθεὶς Τιάραντος πρὸς ἑσπέρης τε μᾶλλον καὶ 
+ἐλάσσων, ὁ δὲ δὴ “A papos τε καὶ ὁ Νάπαρις καὶ 
+ὁ Ὀρδησσὸς διὰ μέσου τούτων ἰόντες ἐσβάλλουσι 
+ἐς τὸν Ἴστρον. 
+
+49. Οὗτοι μὲν. αὐθιγενέες Σκυθικοὶ ποταμοὶ 
+συμπληθύουσι αὐτόν, ἐκ δὲ ᾿Αγαθύρσων Μάρις 
+ποταμὸς ῥέων συμμίσγεται, τῷ Ἴστρῳ, ἐ ἐκ δὲ τοῦ 
+Αίμου τῶν κορυφέων τρεῖς ἄλλοι μεγάλοι ῥέοντες 
+πρὸς Βορέην ἄ ἄνεμον ἐσβάλλουσι ἐς αὐτόν, "Άτλας 
+καὶ ,Aüpas. καὶ Τίβισις. διὰ δὲ Θρηίκης καὶ 
+Θρηίκων τῶν Κροβύζων ῥέοντες "Αθρυς καὶ Νόης 
+καὶ ᾿Αρτάνης, ἐκδιδοῦσι ἐς τὸν Ἴστρον: ἐκ δὲ 
+Παιόνων καὶ ὄρεος Ῥοδόπης Κίος ποταμὸς μέσον 
+
+ίξων τὸν Αἷμον ἐκδιδοῖ È ἐς αὐτόν. ἐξ Ἰλλυριῶν 
+δέ. i ῥέων πρὸς Βορέην ἄνεμον Ἄγγρος ποταμὸς 
+ἐσβάλλει è ἐς πεδίον τὸ Τριβαλλικὸν καὶ ἐς ποταμὸν 
+Βρόγγον, ὁ ὁ δὲ Βρόγγος é ἐς τὸν Ἴστρον' οὕτω ἀμφο- 
+τέρους ἐόντας μεγάλους ὁ Ἴστρος δέκεται. ἐκ δὲ 
+τῆς κατύπερθε χώρης Ὀμβρικῶν Κάρπις ποταμὸς 
+καὶ ἄλλος "Αλπις ποταμὸς πρὸς βορέην ἄνεμον 
+
+
+248 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 48-49 
+
+
+us, flows with ever the same volume in summer and 
+winter; itis the farthest westward of all the Scythian 
+rivers, and the reason of its greatness is as follows: 
+Many other rivers are its tributaries, but these are 
+those that make it great, five flowing through the 
+Scythian country: the river called by Scythians 
+Porata and by Greeks Pyretus,! and besides this the 
+Tiarantus, the Ararus, the Naparis, and the Ordessus. 
+The first-named of these rivers is a great stream 
+flowing eastwards and uniting its waters with the 
+Ister, the second, the Tiarantus, is more to the west 
+and smaller; the Ararus, Naparis, and Ordessus flow 
+between these two and pour their waters into the 
+Ister. 
+
+49. These are the native-born Scythian rivers that 
+help to swell it; but the river Maris, which com- 
+mingles with the Ister, flows from the Agathyrsi ; 
+the Atlas, Auras, and Tibisis, three other great rivers 
+that pour into it, flow northward from the heights of 
+Haemus.? The Athrys, the Noes, and the Artanes 
+issue into the Ister from the country of the Crobyzi 
+in Thrace; the river Cius, which cuts through the 
+midst of Haemus, from the Paeonians and the moun- 
+tain range of Rhodope. The river Angrus flows 
+northward. from Illyria into the Triballic plain and 
+the river Brongus, and the Brongus into the Ister, 
+which so receives these two great rivers into itself. 
+The Carpis and another river called Alpis also flow 
+northward, from the country north of the Ombrici, 
+
+! Probably the Pruth; the modern names of the other 
+four rivers mentioned here are matters of conjecture. 
+
+1 The Balkan range. None of the rivers in this chapter 
+can be certainly identified; the names Κάρπις and "Άλπις 
+must indicate tributaries descending from the Alps and 
+
+
+Carpathians, 
+249 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+καὶ οὗτοι /ῥέοντες ἐκδιδοῦσι ἐ ἐς αὐτόν' ῥέει γὰρ δὴ διὰ 
+πάσης τῆς Εὐρώπης ὁ 0 Ἴστρος, ἀρξάμενος ἐκ Κελ- 
+τῶν, οἳ ἔσχατοι πρὸς ἡλίου δυσµέων μετὰ Κύνητας 
+οἰκέουσι τῶν ἐν τῇ Εὐρώπῃ: ῥέων δὲ διὰ πάσης 
+τῆς Εὐρώπης ἐ ἐς τὰ πλάγια τῆς Σκυθίης ἐσβάλλει. 
+
+60. Τούτων ὧν τῶν καταλεχθέντων καὶ ἄλλων 
+πολλῶν συμβαλλομένων τὸ σφέτερον ὕδωρ γίνεται 
+ὁ Ἴστρος ποταμῶν μέγιστος, ἐπεὶ ὕδωρ γε ἓν πρὸς 
+ἓν συμβάλλειν. ó Νεῖλος πλήθεϊ ἀποκρατέει. ἐς 
+γὰρ δὴ τοῦτον οὔτε ποταμὸς οὔτε κρήνη οὐδεμία 
+ἐσδιδοῦσα͵ ἐς πλῆθός οἱ συμβάλλεται. ἴσος δὲ 
+αἰεὶ ῥέει ἔν τε θέρεϊ καὶ χειμῶνι ὁ Ἴστρος κατὰ 
+τοιόνδε τι, ὡς ἐμοὶ δοκέει: τοῦ μὲν χειμῶνος ἐστὶ 
+ὅσος περ. ἐστί, ὀλίγῳ τε μέξων τῆς ἑωυτοῦ φύσιος 
+γίνεται" ὕεται γὰρ ἡ γῆ αὕτη: τοῦ χειμῶνος πάμπαν 
+ὀλίγῳ, νιφετῷ δὲ πάντα χρᾶται: τοῦ δὲ θέρεος ἡ 7) 
+χιὼν ἡ ἐν τῷ χειμῶνι πεσοῦσα, ἐοῦσα ἀμφιλαφής, 
+τηκομένη πάντοθεν ἐσδιδοῖ ἐς τὸν Ἴστρον. αὕτη 
+τε δὴ 7) χιὼν ἐσδιδοῦσα ἐς αὐτὸν .συμπληθύει καὶ 
+ὄμβροι πολλοί τε καὶ λάβροι σὺν αὐτῇ ὕει γὰρ 
+δὴ τὸ θέρος. ὅσῳ δὲ πλέον em ἑωυτὸν ὕδωρ ὃ 
+ἥλιος. ἐπέλκεται ἐν τῷ θέρεϊ ἢ ἐν τῷ χειμῶνι, 
+τοσούτῳ τὰ συμμισγόμενα τῷ "lerpo πολλα- 
+πλήσια ἐστὶ τοῦ θέρεος ἤ ἤ περ τοῦ χειμῶνος" ἀντιτι- 
+θέμενα δὲ ταῦτα ἀντισήκωσις γίνεται, ὥστε ἴσον 
+μιν αἰεὶ φαίνεσθαι ἐ ἐόντα. 
+
+91. Els μὲν δὴ τῶν ποταμῶν τοῖσι -Σκύθῃσι è ἐστὶ 
+ὁ Ἴστρος, μετὰ δὲ τοῦτον Τύρης, ὃ ὃς ἀπὸ βορέω 
+μὲν ἀνέμου ὁρμᾶται, ἄρχεται δὲ ῥέων ἐκ λίμνης 
+μεγάλης ἦ οὐρίξει τήν τε Σκυθικὴν καὶ Νευρίδα 
+γῆν. ἐπὶ δὲ τῷ στόματι αὐτοῦ κατοίκηνται 
+Ἕλληνες of Τυρῖται καλέονται. 
+
+
+250 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 49-51 
+
+
+to issue into it; for the Ister traverses the whole of 
+Europe, rising among the Celts who, save only the 
+Cynetes, are the most westerly dwellers in Europe, 
+and flowing thus clean across Europe it issues forth 
+along the borders of Scythia. 
+
+90. Seeing, then, that these aforesaid rivers, and 
+many others too, are its tributaries, the Ister becomes 
+the greatest of all rivers; stream for stream, indeed, 
+the Nile has a greater volume, for no river or spring 
+joins it to swell its volume of water. But the Ister 
+is ever of the same height in summer and winter, 
+whereof I think this to be the reason. In winter it 
+is of its customary size, or only a little greater than 
+is natural to it, for in that country in winter there is 
+very little rain, but snow everywhere. But in the 
+summer the abundant snow which has fallen in 
+winter melts and pours from all sides into the Ister ; 
+so this snow pours into the river and helps to swell 
+it with much violent rain besides, the summer being 
+the season of rain. And in the same degree as the 
+sun draws to itself more water in summer than in 
+winter, the water that commingles with the Ister 
+is many times more abundant in summer than 
+it is in winter; these opposites keep the balance 
+true, so that the volume of the river appears ever 
+the same. 
+
+91. One of the rivers of the Scythians, then, is 
+the Ister. The next is the Tyras!; this comes from 
+the north, flowing at first out of a great lake, which 
+is the boundary between the Scythian and the 
+Neurian countries; at the mouth of the river there 
+is a settlement of Greeks, who are called Tyritae. 
+
+
+1 The Dniester. 
+
+
+251 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+52. Τρίτος δὲ" Ὕπανις ποταμὸς ὁρμᾶται μὲν ἐκ 
+τῆς Σκυθικῆς, ῥ ῥέει δὲ ἐκ λίμνης μεγάλης τὴν πέριξ 
+νέμονται ἵπποι . ἄγριοι λευκοί: καλέεται δὲ ἡ 7 λίμνη 
+αὕτη ὀρθῶς μήτηρ Ὑπάνιος. ἐκ ταύτης ὦ ὧν ἆνα- 
+τέλλων ὁ Ὕπανις ποταμὸς ῥέει ἐπὶ μὲν πέντε 
+ἡμερέων πλόον βραχὺς καὶ γλυκύς ἐστι, ἀπὸ δὲ 
+τούτου πρὸς θαλάσσης τεσσέρων ἡμερέων πλόον 
+πικρὸς δεινῶς ἐκδιδοῖ γὰρ ἐς αὐτὸν κρήνη πικρή, 
+οὕτω δή. τι ἐοῦσα πικρή, ἣ μεγάθεϊ σμικρὴ ἐοῦσα 
+κιρνᾷ τὸν Ὕπανιν ἐόντα ποταμὸν ἐν ὀλίγοισι 
+μέγαν. ἔστι δὲ ἡ κρήνη αὕτη ἐν οὔροισι χώρης 
+τῆς τε ἀροτήρων Σκυθέων καὶ ᾿Αλαξόνων' οὔνομα 
+δὲ τῇ κρήνῃ καὶ ὅθεν ῥ ῥέει τῷ χώρῳ σκυθιστὶ μὲν 
+᾿Εξαμπαῖος, κατὰ δὲ τὴν Ἑλλήνων γλῶσσαν Ἱραὶ 
+ὁδοί. συνάγουσι δὲ τὰ τέρματα ὅ τε Τύρης καὶ 
+ὁ Ὕπανις κατὰ ᾿Αλαξόνας, τὸ δὲ ἀπὸ τούτου 
+ἀποστρέψας ἑκάτερος ῥέει εὐρύνων τὸ μέσον. 
+
+53. Τέταρτος δὲ Βορυσθένης ποταμός, ὃς ἐστί 
+τε μέγιστος μετὰ, Ἴστρον τούτων καὶ πολυαρκέ- 
+στατος κατὰ γνώμας τὰς ἡμετέρας οὔτι μοῦνον 
+τῶν Σκυθικῶν ποταμῶν ἀλλὰ καὶ τῶν ἄλλων 
+ἁπάντων, πλὴν Νείλου τοῦ Αἰγυπτίου: τούτῳ γὰρ 
+οὐκ οἷά τε ἐστὶ συμβαλεῖν ἄλλον ποταμόν" τῶν 
+δὲ λοιπῶν Βορυσθένης ἐστὶ πολυαρκέστατος, ὃς 
+νομάς τε καλλίστας καὶ εὐκομιδεστάτας κτήνεσι 
+παρέχεται ἰχθύας τε ἀρίστους διακριδὸν καὶ πλεί- 
+στους, πίνεσθαί τε ἥδιστος ἐστί, ῥέει τε καθαρὸς 
+παρὰ θολεροῖσι, σπόρος τε παρ αὐτὸν ἄριστος 
+γίνεται, ποίη τε, τῇ ov σπείρεται. ἡ χώρη, βαθυ- 
+τάτη' ἅλες τε ἐπὶ τῷ στόματι αὐτοῦ αὐτόματοι 
+πήγνυνται ἄπλετοι: κήτεά τε μεγάλα ἀνάκανθα, 
+τὰ ἀντακαίους καλέουσι, παρέχεται ἐς ταρίχευσιν, 
+
+
+253 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 52-53 
+
+
+52. The third river is the Hypanis; this comes from 
+Scythia, flowing out of a great lake, round which 
+wild white horses graze. This lake is truly called 
+the mother of the Hypanis. Here, then, the Hypanis 
+rises ; for five days’ journey its waters are shallow and 
+still sweet; after that for four days' journey seaward 
+it is wondrous bitter, for a spring issues into it which 
+is so bitter that although its volume is small its 
+admixture taints the Hypanis, one of ‘the few great 
+rivers of the world. This spring is on the border- 
+land between the farming Scythians! and the Ala- 
+zones; the name of it and of the country whence it 
+flows is in Scythian Exampaeus, in the Greek tongue 
+Sacred Ways. The Tyras and the Hypanis draw 
+their courses near together in the Alazones’ country ; 
+after that they flow divergent, widening the space 
+between. 
+
+53. The fourth is the river Borysthenes. This is 
+the next greatest of them after the Ister, and the 
+most serviceable, according to our judgment, not 
+only of the Scythian rivers but of all, except the 
+Egyptian Nile, with which no other river can be 
+compared. But of the rest the Borysthenes is the 
+most serviceable; it provides for beasts the fairest 
+pasture lands and easiest of access, and the fish in 
+it are beyond all in their excellence and their 
+abundance. Its water is most sweet to drink, flow- 
+ing with a clear current, whereas the other rivers 
+are turbid. There is excellent tilth on its banks, 
+and very rich grass where the land is not sown ; and 
+self-formed crusts of salt abound at its mouth; it 
+provides great spineless fish, called sturgeons, for the 
+
+
+1 See ch. 17. 
+
+
+253 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἄλλα τε πολλὰ θωμάσαι ἄξια. μέχρι μέν νυν 
+Γερρέων χώρου, ἐς τὸν τεσσεράκοντα ἡμερέων 
+/ 
+πλόος ἐστί, γινώσκεται ῥέων ἀπὸ βορέω ἀνέμου' 
+N /, > @ e? ? lA 9 1 ” 
+τὸ δὲ κατύπερθε δι ὧν ῥέει ἀνθρώπων οὐδεὶς ἔχει 
+φράσαι" φαίνεται δὲ ῥέων δὲ ἐρήμου ἐς τῶν 
+^ / A 4 . e 7 
+γεωργῶν Σκυθέων τὴν χώρην" οὗτοι γὰρ οἱ Σκύθαι 
+παρ αὐτὸν ἐπὶ δέκα ἡμερέων πλόον νέμονται. 
+
+, ΄ - ^ 
+μούνου δὲ τούτου τοῦ ποταμοῦ καὶ Νείλου οὐκ 
+y 4 A 4 ὃ /, δέ δὲ jo M 
+ἔχω φράσαι Tas πηγάς, δοκέω δέ, οὐδὲ οὐδεὶς 
+Ἑλλήνων. ἀγχοῦ τε δὴ θαλάσσης ὁ Βορυσθένης 
+ῥέων γίνεται καί οἱ συμμίσγεται ὁ Ὕπανις ἐς 
+
+, « υ 3 7 N N . ^ ^ 
+τὠυτὸ ἕλος ἐκδιδούς. τὸ δὲ μεταξὺ τῶν ποταμῶν 
+
+7 aN y A , € / » 
+τούτων, ἐὸν ἔμβολον τῆς χώρης, {ππόλεω ἄκρη 
+
+λέ 3 δὲ , ^ ein A / , [ὃ ` 
+καλέεται, ἐν δὲ αὐτῷ ἱρὸν Δήμητρος ἐνίδρυται 
+
+/ . "^ € ^ ae 5 
+πέρην δὲ τοῦ ἱροῦ ἐπὶ τῷ Ὕπάνι Βορυσθενεῖται 
+κατοίκηνται. 
+
+54. Ταῦτα μὲν τὰ ἀπὸ τούτων τῶν ποταμῶν, 
+μετὰ δὲ τούτους πέμπτος ποταμὸς ἄλλος, τῷ 
+οὔνομα Παντικάπης, ῥέει μὲν καὶ οὗτος ἀπὸ βορέω 
+τε καὶ ἐκ λίμνης, καὶ τὸ μεταξὺ τούτου τε καὶ τοῦ 
+Βορυσθένεος νέμονται οἱ γεωργοὶ Σκύθαι, ἐκδιδοῖ 
+δὲ ἐς τὴν Trainv, παραμειψάμενος δὲ ταύτην τῷ 
+Βορυσθένεϊ συμμίσγεται. 
+
+55. Ἔκτος δὲ Ὑπάκυρις ποταμός, ὃς ὁρμᾶται 
+
+^ 4 
+μὲν ἐκ λίμνης, διὰ μέσων δὲ τῶν νομάδων Σκυθέων 
+ῥέων ἐκδιδοῦ κατὰ Καρκινῖτιν πόλιν, ἐς δεξιὴν 
+ε 
+ἀπέργων τήν τε Ὑλαίην καὶ τὸν ᾿Αχιλλήιον 
+δρόμον καλεόμενον. 
+56. "Εβδομος δὲ Γέρρος ποταμὸς ἀπέσχισται 
+
+
+254 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 53-56 
+
+
+salting, and many other wondrous things besides. 
+Its course is from the north, and there is knowledge 
+of it as far as the Gerrhan land, that is, for forty 
+days' voyage; beyond that, no man can say through 
+what nations it flows; but it is plain that it flows 
+through desert country to the land of the farming 
+Scythians, who dwell beside it for a ten days' voyage. 
+This is the only river, besides the Nile, whereof I 
+cannot say what is the source; nor, I think, can any 
+Greek. When the stream of the Borysthenes comes 
+near the sea, the Hypanis mingles with it, issuing 
+into the same marsh; the land between these 
+rivers, being a jutting beak of the country, is called 
+Hippolaus' promontory ; a temple of Demeter stands 
+there. The settlement of the Borystheneitae is 
+beyond the temple, on the Hypanis. 
+
+54. This is the knowledge that comes to us from 
+these rivers. After these there is a fifth river called 
+Panticapas; this also flows from the north out of a 
+lake, and the land between it and the Borysthenes 
+is inhabited by the farming Scythians; it issues into 
+the Woodland country; which having passed it 
+mingles with the Borysthenes. 
+
+55. The sixth is the river Hypacuris,! which rises 
+from a lake, and flowing through the midst of the 
+nomad Scythians issues out near the city of Carcine, 
+bordering on its right the Woodland and the region 
+called the Racecourse of Achilles. 
+
+56. The seventh river, the Gerrhus, parts from 
+
+
+! Perhaps in the Molotschna region, considerably east of 
+the Dnieper. The ‘‘city of Carcine" lay at the eastern end 
+of the Scythian sea-coast, close to the Tauric Chersonese 
+(Crimea). The Racecourse of Achilles was a strip of land, 
+now broken into islands, about 80 miles long, between the 
+Crimea and the mouth of the Dnieper. 
+
+
+255 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μὲν ἀπὸ τοῦ Βορυσθένεος κατὰ τοῦτο τῆς χώρης 
+ἐς ὃ γινώσκεται ὁ Βορυσθένης: ἀπέσχισται μέν 
+νυν ἐκ τούτου τοῦ χώρου, οὔνομα δὲ ἔχει τό περ 
+ὁ χῶρος αὐτός, Γέῤρος, ῥέων δὲ ἐς θάλασσαν 
+οὐρίζει τήν τε τῶν νομάδων χώρην καὶ τὴν τῶν 
+βασιληίων Σκυθέων, ἐκδιδοῖ δὲ ἐς τὸν Ὑπάκυριν. 
+
+97. Ὄγδοος δὲ δὴ Γάναϊς ποταμός, ὃς ῥέει Tavé- 
+καθεν ἐκ. λίμνης μεγάλης ὁρμώμενος, ἐκδιδοῖ δὲ ἐς 
+µέζω ἔτι λίμνην καλεομένην Μαιῆτιν, ἣ οὐρίξει 
+Σκύθας τε τοὺς βασιληίους καὶ Σαυρομάτας. ἐς 
+δὲ Τάναϊν τοῦτον ἄλλος ποταμὸς ἐσβάλλει τῷ 
+οὔνομα ἐστὶ "Ύργις. 
+
+58. Τοῖσι μὲν δὴ ὀνομαστοῖσι ποταμοῖσι οὕτω 
+δή τι οἱ Σκύθαι ἐσκευάδαται, τοῖσι δὲ κτήνεσι ἡ 
+ποίη ἀναφυομένη ἐν τῇ Σκυθικῇ ἐστι ἐπιχολω- 
+τάτη πασέων ποιέων τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν: ἀνοιγο- 
+μένοισι δὲ τοῖσι κτήνεσι ἐστὶ σταθμώσασθαι ὅτι 
+τοῦτο οὕτω ἔχει. 
+
+59. Τὰ μὲν δὴ μέγιστα οὕτω σφι εὔπορα ἐστί, 
+τὰ δὲ λοιπὰ νόμαια κατὰ τάδε σφι διακέεται. 
+θεοὺς μὲν μούνους τούσδε ἱλάσκονται, Ἱστίην μὲν 
+
+/ > A . , M ^ / A ^ 
+μάλιστα, ἐπὶ δὲ Δία καὶ Γῆν, νομίξοντες τὴν Γἣν 
+τοῦ Διὸς εἶναι γυναῖκα, μετὰ δὲ τούτους ᾿Απόλ- 
+λωνά τε καὶ οὐρανίην ᾿Αφροδίτην καὶ Ἡρακλέα 
+καὶ "Ἄρεα. τούτους μὲν πάντες Σκύθαι νενομί- 
+κασι, οἱ δὲ καλεόμενοι βασιλήιοι Σκύθαι καὶ τῷ 
+Ποσειδέωνι θύουσι. ὀνομάξεται δὲ σκυθιστὶ Ἴσ- 
+τίη μὲν Ταβιτί, Ζεὺς δὲ ὀρθότατα κατὰ γνώμην 
+ye τὴν ἐμὴν καλεόμενος Παπαῖος, Γη δὲ Ari. 
+᾿Απόλλων δὲ Γοιτόσυρος, οὐρανίη δὲ ᾿Αφροδίτη 
+᾿Αργίμπασα, Ποσειδέων δὲ Θαγιμασάδας. ἀγάλ- 
+
+
+256 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 56-59 
+
+
+the Borysthenes at about the place which is the end 
+of our knowledge of that river; at this place it parts, 
+and has the same name as the place itself, Gerrhus ; 
+then in its course to the sea it divides the country 
+of the Nomads and the country of the Royal 
+Scythians, and issues into the Hypacuris. 
+
+57. The eighth is the river Tanais!; this in its 
+upper course begins by flowing out of a great lake, 
+and enters a yet greater lake called the Maeetian, 
+which divides the Royal Scythians from the Sauro- 
+matae ; another river, called Hyrgis,? is a tributary of . 
+this Tanais. 
+
+58. These are the rivers of name with which the 
+Scythians are provided. For the rearing of cattle 
+the grass growing in Scythia is the most bile-making 
+of all pastures known to us ; it can be judged by the 
+opening of the bodies of the cattle that this is so. 
+
+99. The Scythians then have what most concerns 
+them ready to hand. It remains now to show the 
+customs which are established among them. The 
+only gods whom they propitiate by worship are 
+these: Hestia in especial, and secondly Zeus and 
+Earth, whom they deem to be the wife of Zeus; 
+after these, Apollo, and the Heavenly Aphrodite, 
+and Heracles, and Ares. All the Scythians worship 
+these as gods; the Scythians called Royal sacrifice 
+also to Poseidon. In the Scythian tongue Hestia is 
+called Tabiti: Zeus (in my judgment most rightly so 
+called) Papaeus?; Earth is Apia, Apollo Goetosyrus, 
+the Heavenly Aphrodite Artimpasa, and Poseidon 
+
+1 The Don. 
+
+2 Perhaps the “ Syrgis" of ch. 123; it may be the modern 
+Donetz. 
+
+3 Asthe ““ All-Father”; cp. such words as πάπας, παπίας, 
+etc. 
+
+257 
+
+VOL. 11. 9 
+
+
+HERODOTUS | 
+para δὲ καὶ βωμοὺς καὶ νηοὺς οὐ νομίξουσε 
+ποιέειν πλὴν “A pei: τούτῳ δὲ νομίξουσι. 
+
+60. Θυσίη δὲ 7 αὐτὴ πᾶσι κατέστηκε περὶ 
+πάντα τὰ ipa ὁμοίως, ἐρδομένη ὧδε" τὸ μὲν ἱρήιον 
+αὐτὸ ἐμπεποδισμένον τοὺς ἐμπροσθίους πόδας 
+ἕστηκε, ὁ δὲ θύων ὄπισθε τοῦ κτήνεος ἑστεὼς 
+σπάσας τὴν ἀρχὴν τοῦ στρόφου καταβάλλει μιν, 
+πύπτοντος δὲ τοῦ tpniov ἐπικαλέει τὸν θεὸν τῷ ἂν 
+θύῃ, καὶ ἔπειτα βρόχῳ περὶ ὧν ἔβαλε τὸν αὐχένα, 
+σκυταλίδα δὲ ἐμβαλὼν. περιάγει καὶ ἀποπνίγει, 
+οὔτε πῦρ ἀνακαύσας οὔτε καταρξάμενος οὔτ᾽ ἐπι- 
+σπείσας: ἀποπνίξας δὲ καὶ ἀποδείρας τράπεται 
+πρὸς ἕψησιν. 
+
+61. Της δὲ γῆς τῆς Σκυθικῆς αἰνῶς -ἀξύλου 
+ἐούσης ὧδέ σφι ἐς τὴν ἔψησιν τῶν κρεῶν. ἐξεύ- 
+pyra ἐπειδὰν ἀποδείρωσι τὰ ἱρήια, γυμνοῦσι τὰ 
+ὀστέα τῶν κρεῶν, ἔπειτα ἐσβάλλουσι, ἦν μὲν 
+τύχωσι ἔχοντες, ἐς λέβητας ἐπιχωρίους, μάλιστα 
+Λεσβίοισι κρητῆρσι προσεικέλους, χωρὶς ἢ ὅτι 
+πολλῷ μέξονας" ἐς τούτους a βάλλοντες ἔψουσι 
+ὑποκαίοντες τὰ ὀστέα τῶν ἱρηίων. ἦν δὲ μή σφι 
+παρῇ ὁ λέβης, οἳ δὲ ἐ ἐς τὰς γαστέρας τῶν ἑρηίων 
+
+ἐσβάλλοντες τὰ κρέα. πάντα καὶ παραμίξαντες 
+ὕδωρ ὑποκαίουσι τὰ ὀστέα" τὰ δὲ αἴθεται κάλ. 
+λιστα, αἱ δὲ γαστέρες χωρέουσι εὐπετέως τὰ κρέα 
+ἐψιλωμένα τῶν ὀστέων" καὶ οὕτω. βοῦς τε ἑωυτὸν 
+ἐξέψει καὶ τἆλλα ἱρήια ἑωυτὸ ἕκαστον. ἐπεὰν 
+δὲ ἑψηθῇ τὰ κρέα, ὁ θύσας τῶν κρεῶν, καὶ τῶν 
+σπλάγχνων ἀπαρξάμενος ῥίπτει ἐς τὸ ἔμπ οσθε. 
+θύουσι δὲ καὶ τὰ ἄλλα πρόβατα καὶ ἵππους 
+μάλιστα. 
+
+62. Τοῖσι μὲν δὴ ἄλλοισι τῶν θεῶν οὕτω θύουσι 
+
+
+258 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 59-62 
+
+
+Thagimasadas. It is their practice to make images 
+and altars and shrines for Ares, but for no other 
+god. 
+
+60. In all their sacred services alike they follow 
+the same method of sacrifice; this is how it is 
+offered. The victim itself stands with its forefeet 
+shackled together; the sacrificer stands behind the 
+beast, and throws it down by plucking the end of its 
+rope ; as the victim falls, he invokes whatever god it 
+is to whom he sacrifices. Then, throwing a noose 
+round the beast's neck, he thrusts in a stick and 
+twists it and so strangles the victim, lighting no fire 
+nor offering the firstfruits, nor pouring any libation ; 
+and having strangled and flayed the beast, he sets 
+about cooking it. 
+
+61. Now the Scythian land is wondrous bare of 
+wood : so this is their device for cooking the flesh. 
+When they have flayed the victims, they strip the 
+flesh from the bones and throw them into the 
+cauldrons of the country, if they have such: these 
+are most like to Lesbian bowls, save that they are 
+much bigger; into these then they throw the 
+victim's bones, and cook them by lighting a fire 
+beneath. But if they have no cauldron, then they 
+cast all the flesh into the victim's stomachs, adding 
+». water thereto, and make a fire beneath of the bones, 
+which burn finely ; the stomachs easily hold the 
+flesh when it is stripped from the bones; thus an ox 
+serves to cook itself, and every other victim does 
+likewise. When the flesh is cooked, the sacrificer 
+takes the firstfruits of the flesh and the entrails and 
+casts it before him. They use all beasts of the flock 
+for sacrifice, but chiefly horses. 
+
+62. Such is their way of sacrificing to all other 
+
+
+259 
+s 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Kai ταῦτα τῶν κτηνέων, τῷ δὲ "Apei ὧδε. κατὰ 
+νομοὺς ἑκάστους τῶν ἀρχέων ἐσίδρυταί σφι “A peos 
+ἱρὸν τοιόνδε’ φρυγάνων φάκελοι συννενέαται ὅσον 
+T ἐπὶ σταδίους τρεῖς μῆκος καὶ εὖρος, ὕψος δὲ 
+ἔλασσον: ἄνω δὲ τούτου τετράγωνον ἄπεδον Te- 
+ποίηται, καὶ τὰ μὲν τρία τῶν κώλων ἐστὶ ἀπό- 
+TOLA, κατὰ δὲ τὸ ἓν ἐπιβατόν. ἔτεος δὲ ἑκάστου 
+ἁμάξας πεντήκοντα καὶ ἑκατὸν ἐπινέουσι φρυγά- 
+νων" ὑπονοστέει γὰρ δὴ αἰεὶ ὑπὸ τῶν χειμώνων. 
+ἐπὶ τούτου δὴ τοῦ σηκοῦ ἀκινάκης σιδήρεος 
+ἵδρυται ἀρχαῖος ἑκάστοισι, καὶ τοῦτ᾽ ἐστὶ τοῦ 
+"A peos TO ἄγαλμα. τούτῳ δὲ τῷ ἀκινάκῃ θυσίας 
+ἐπετείους προσάγουσι προβάτων καὶ ἵππων, καὶ 
+δὴ καὶ τοῖσιὸ ἔτι πλέω θύουσι ἢ τοῖσι ἄλλοισι 
+θεοῖσι" ὅσους ἂν τῶν πολεμίων ζωγρήσωσι, ἀπὸ 
+τῶν ἑκατὸν ἀνδρῶν ἄνδρα θύουσι τρόπῳ οὐ τῷ 
+᾿αὐτῷ καὶ τὰ πρόβατα, | ἀλλ. ἑτεροίῳ. ἐπεὰν γὰρ 
+οἶνον ἐπισπείσωσι κατὰ τῶν κεφαλέων, ἀποσφά- 
+ζουσι τοὺς ἀνθρώπους € ἐς ἄγγος καὶ ἔπειτα ἀνενεί- 
+καντες ἄνω ἐπὶ τὸν ὄγκον τῶν φρυγάνων καταχέ- 
+ουσι τὸ αἷμα τοῦ ἀκινάκεω, ἄνω μὲν δὴ φορέουσι 
+τοῦτο, κάτω δὲ παρὰ τὸ ἱρὸν ποιεῦσι τάδε: τῶν 
+ἀποσφαγέντων ἀνδρῶν τοὺς δεξιοὺς ὦ ὤμους πάντας 
+ἀποταμόντες σὺν τῇσι χερσὶ ἐς τὸν ἠέρα ἱεῖσι, 
+καὶ ἔπειτα καὶ τὰ ἄλλα ἀπέρξαντες ἱρήια ἀπαλ- 
+λάσσονται. χεὶρ δὲ τῇ ἂν πέσῃ κέεται, καὶ 
+χωρὶς ὁ νεκρός. 
+
+63. Θυσίαι μέν νυν αὗταί σφι κατεστᾶσι. ὑσὶ 
+δὲ οὗτοι, οὐδὲν νομύξουσι, οὐδὲ τρέφειν ἐν τῇ χώρῃ 
+τὸ παράπαν θέλουσι. 
+
+64. Τὰ δ᾽ ἐς πόλεμον ἔχοντα ὧδέ σφι δια- 
+κέαται' ἐπεὰν τὸν πρῶτον ἄνδρα καταβάλῃ ἀνὴρ 
+
+
+26ο 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 62-64 
+
+
+gods and such are the beasts offered; but their 
+sacrifices to Ares are on this wise. Every district in 
+each of the governments has in it a building sacred 
+to Ares, to wit, a pile of fagots of sticks three 
+furlongs broad and long, but of a less height, on the 
+top of which there is a flattened four-sided surface; 
+three of its sides are sheer, but the fourth can be 
+ascended. In every year an hundred and fifty 
+waggon-loads of sticks are heaped upon this; for the 
+storms of winter ever make it sink down. On this 
+pile there is set for each people an ancient scimitar 
+of iron, which is their image of Ares ; to this scimitar 
+they bring yearly sacrifice of sheep and goats and 
+horses, offering to these symbols even more than 
+they do to the other gods. Of all their enemies 
+that they take alive, they sacrifice one man in every 
+hundred, not according to their fashion of sacrificing 
+sheep and goats, but differently. They pour wine 
+on the men’s heads and cut their throats over a 
+vessel; then they carry the blood up on to the 
+pile of sticks and pour it on the scimitar. So they 
+carry the blood aloft, but below by the sacred build- 
+ing they cut off the slain men's right arms and 
+hands and throw these into the air, and presently 
+depart when they have sacrificed the rest of the 
+victims; the arm lies where it has fallen, and the 
+body apart froth it. 
+. 63. These then are their established fashions of 
+sacrifice; but of swine these Scythians make no 
+offerings ; nor are they willing for the most part to 
+rear them in their country. 
+
+64. As to war, these are their customs. A Scythian 
+drinks of the blood of the first man whom he has 
+
+
+. 261 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Σκύθης, τοῦ αἵματος ἐμπίνει, ὅσους ὃ ἂν φονεύσῃ 
+ἐν τῇ μάχῃ, τούτων τὰς κεφαλὰς ἀποφέρει τῷ 
+βασιλέι. ἀπενείκας μὲν γὰρ κεφαλὴν τῆς ληης 
+μεταλαμβάνει τὴν ἂν λάβωσι, μ μὴ ἐνείκας δὲ οὔ. 
+ἀποδείρει δὲ αὐτὴν τρόπφ τοιῷδε" περιταμὼν 
+κύκλῳ περὶ τὰ ὦτα καὶ λαβόμενος τῆς κεφαλῆς 
+ἐκσείει, μετὰ δὲ σαρκίσας βοὺς πλευρῇ δέψει τῆσι 
+χερσί, ὀργάσας δὲ αὐτὸ ἆτε χειρόμακτρον ἔκτηται, 
+ἐκ δὲ τῶν χαλινῶν τοῦ ἵππου τὸν αὐτὸς ἐλαύνει, 
+ἐκ τούτου ἐξάπτει καὶ ἀγάλλεται: ὃς γὰρ ἂν 
+πλεῖστα δέρματα χειρόμακτρα. ἔχῃ» ἀνὴρ ἄριστος 
+οὗτος κέκριται. πολλοὶ δὲ αὐτῶν ἐκ τῶν ἀπο- 
+ξαρμάτων καὶ χλαίνας ἐπείνυσθαι ποιεῦσι, συρ- 
+ράπτοντες κατά περ Baíras. πολλοὶ δὲ ἀνδρῶν 
+ἐχθρῶν τὰς δεξιὰς χεῖρας νεκρῶν ἐόντων ἀποδεί- 
+pavres αὐτοῖσι ὄνυξι καλύπτρας τῶν φαρετρέων 
+ποιεῦνται. δέρµα δὲ ἀνθρώπου καὶ παχὺ καὶ 
+λαμπρὸν ἦν ἄρα, σχεδὸν δερμάτων πάντων λαμ- 
+πρότατον λευκότητι. πολλοὶ δὲ καὶ ὅλους ἄνδρας 
+ἐκδείραντες καὶ διατείναντες ἐπὶ ξύλων ἐπ᾽ ἵππων 
+περιφέρουσι. 
+
+6δ. Ταῦτα μὲν δὴ οὕτω σφι νενόμισται, αὐτὰς 
+δὲ τὰς κεφαλάς, οὔτι πάντων ἀλλὰ τῶν ἐχθίστων, 
+ποιεῦσι τάδε" ἀποπρίσας ἕκαστος 3 πᾶν τὸ ἔνερθε 
+τῶν ὀφρύων ἐκκαθαίρει' καὶ ἦν μὲν ᾗ πένης, ὃ δὲ 
+ἔξωθεν ὠμοθοέην μούνην περιτείνας οὕτω χρᾶται, 
+ἦν δὲ ᾖ πλούσιος, τὴν μὲν ὠμοβοέην περιτείνει, 
+ἔσωθεν δὲ καταχρυσώσας οὕτω χρᾶται ποτηρίῳ. 
+ποιεῦσι δὲ τοῦτο καὶ ἐκ τῶν οἰκηίων ἦν σφι 
+διάφοροι γένωνται καὶ ἣν ἐπικρατήσῃ αὐτοῦ παρὰ 
+τῷ βασιλέι. ξείνων δέ οἱ ἐλθόντων τῶν ἂν λόγον 
+
+1 [ἕκαστος] Stein. 
+
+262 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 64-65 
+
+
+overthrown. He carries to his king the heads of all 
+whom he has slain in the battle; for he receives a 
+share of the booty taken if he bring a head, but not 
+otherwise. He scalps the head by making a cut 
+round it by the ears, then grasping the scalp and 
+shaking the head out. Then he scrapes out the flesh 
+with the rib of an ox, and kneads the skin with his 
+hands, and having made it supple he keeps it for a 
+napkin, fastening it to the bridle of the horse which 
+he himself rides, and taking pride in it; for he is 
+judged the best man who has most scalps for napkins. 
+Many Scythians even make garments for wear out 
+of these scalps, sewing them together like coats of 
+skin. Many too take off the skin, nails and all, from 
+their dead enemies' hands, and make thereof cover- 
+ings for their quivers ; it would seem that the human 
+skin is thick and shining, of all skins, one may say, 
+the brightest and whitest. There are many too that 
+flay the skin from the whole body and carry it about 
+on horseback stretched on a wooden frame. 
+
+65. The heads themselves, not of all but of their 
+bitterest foes, they treat in this wise. Each saws off 
+all the part beneath the eyebrows, and cleanses the 
+rest. If he be a poor man, then he does but cover 
+the outside with a piece of raw hide, and so makes 
+use of it ; but if he be rich, he covers the head with 
+the raw hide, and gilds the inside of it and so uses 
+it for a drinking-cup. Such cups a man makes also 
+of the head of his own kinsman with whom he has 
+been at feud, and whom he has worsted in a suit 
+before the king ; and if guests whom he honours visit 
+
+
+263 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ποιέηται, τὰς κεφαλὰς ταύτας παραφέρειν καὶ 
+ἐπιλέγει ὡς οἱ ἐόντες οἰκήιοι πόλεμον προσεθή- 
+καντο καί σφεων αὐτὸς ἐπεκράτησε, ταύτην 
+ἀνδραγαθίην λέγοντες. 
+
+66. “Απαξ δὲ τοῦ ἐνιαυτοῦ ἑκάστου ὁ νομάρχης 
+ἕκαστος ἐν τῷ ἑωυτοῦ νομῷ κιρνᾷ κρητῆρα οἴνου, 
+ἀπ᾽ οὗ πίνουσι τῶν Σκυθέων τοῖσι ἂν ἄνδρες 
+πολέμιοι ἀραιρημένοι ἔωσι' τοῖσι δ᾽ ἂν μὴ κατερ- 
+γασμένον 7 τοῦτο, οὐ γεύονται τοῦ οἴνου τούτου, 
+ἀλλ, ἠτιμωμένοι ἀποκατέαται: ὄνειδος δέ σφι ἐστὶ 
+μέγιστον τοῦτο. ὅσοι δὲ ἂν αὐτῶν καὶ κάρτα 
+πολλοὺς ἄνδρας ἀραιρηκότες ἔωσι, οὗτοι δὲ 
+σύνδυο κύλικας ἔχοντες πίνουσι ὁμοῦ. 
+
+67. Μάντιες δὲ Σκυθέων εἰσὶ πολλού, οἳ pav- 
+τεύονται ῥάβδοισι ἐτεῖνῃσι πολλῇσι ὧδε: ἐπεὰν 
+φακέλους ῥάβδων μεγάλους ἐνείκωνται, θέντες 
+χαμαὶ διεξειλύσσουσι αὐτούς, καὶ ἐπὶ μίαν ἑκά- 
+στην ῥάβδον τιθέντες θεσπίξουσι, d ἅμα τε λέγοντες 
+ταῦτα συνειλέουσι τὰς ῥάβδους ὁ ὀπίσω καὶ αὖτις 
+κατὰ μίαν συντιθεῖσι. αὕτη μέν σφι ἡ μαντικὴ 
+πατρωίη ἐστί. οἱ δὲ ᾿Ενάρεες οἱ ἀνδρόγυνοι τὴν 
+᾿Αφροδίτην σφίσι λέγουσι μαντικὴν δοῦναι" φι- 
+λύρης δ᾽ ὧν φλοιῷ μαντεύονται: ἐπεὰν τὴν 
+φιλύρην τρίχα σχίσῃ, διαπλέκων ἐν τοῖσι δακτύ- 
+τ τοῖσι ἑωυτοῦ καὶ διαλύων χρᾷ. ` 
+
+Ἐπεὰν δὲ βασιλεὺς ὁ Σκυθέων κάμῃ, 
+ο... τῶν μαντίων ἄνδρας τρεῖς τοὺς 
+εὐδοκιμέοντας μάλιστα, οἳ τρόπῳ τῷ εἰρημένῳ 
+μαντεύονται: καὶ λέγουσι οὗτοι ὡς τὸ ἐπίπαν 
+μάλιστα τάδε, ὡς τὰς βασιληίας ἱστίας ἐπιώρ- 
+κηκε ὃς καὶ ὅς, λέγοντες τῶν ἀστῶν τὸν ἂν δὴ 
+λέγωσι. τὰς δὲ βασιληίας ἱστίας νόμος Σκύθῃσι 
+
+
+264 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 65-68 
+
+
+him he will serve them with these heads, and show 
+how the dead were his kinsfolk who made war upon 
+him and were worsted by him; this they call manly 
+valour. 
+
+66. Moreover once in every year each governor of 
+a province brews a bowl of wine in his own province, 
+whereof those Scythians drink who have slain 
+enemies; those who have not achieved this taste 
+not this wine but sit apart dishonoured; and this 
+they count a very great disgrace; but as many as 
+have slain not one but many enemies, they have each 
+two cups and so drink of them both. 
+
+67. There are among the Scythians many diviners, 
+who divine by means of many willow wands as I will 
+show. They bring great bundles of wands, which 
+they lay on the ground and unfasten, and utter their 
+divinations laying one rod on another; and while 
+they yet speak they gather up the rods once more 
+and lay them together one by one; this manner of 
+divination is hereditary among them. The Enareis, 
+who are epicene, say that Aphrodite gave them the 
+art of divination, which they practise by means of 
+lime-tree bark. They cut this bark into three 
+portions, and prophesy while they plait and unplait 
+these in their fingers. 
+
+68. But whenever the king of the Scythians falls 
+sick, he sends for the three diviners most in repute, 
+who prophesy in the aforesaid manner; and they for 
+the most part tell him that such and such a man 
+(naming whoever it is of the people of the country) 
+has forsworn himself by the king’s hearth ; for when 
+the Scythians will swear their mightiest oath, it is 
+
+265 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τὰ μάλιστα ἐστὶ ὀμνύναι τότε ἐπεὰν τὸν μέγιστον 
+ὅρκον ἐθέλωσι «ὀμνύναι. αὐτίκα δὲ διαλέλαμ- 
+μένος ἄγεται οὗτος τὸν ἂν δὴ φῶσι ἐπιορκῆσαι, 
+ἀπιγμένον δὲ ἐλέγχουσι οἱ μάντιες ὡς ἐπιορκήσας 
+φαίνεται ἐν τῇ μαντικῇ τὰς βασιληίας i ἱστίας καὶ 
+διὰ ταῦτα ἀλγέει 0 βασιλεύς" ὃ δὲ ἀρνέεται, οὐ 
+φάμενος ἐπιορκῆσαι, καὶ δεινολογέεται. ἀρνεο- 
+μένου δὲ τούτου ὁ βασιλεὺς μεταπέμπεται ἄλλους 
+διπλησίους μάντιας" καὶ 7v μὲν καὶ οὗτοι ἐσο- 
+ρῶντες ἐς τὴν μαντικὴν καταδήσωσι ἐπιορκῆσαι, 
+τοῦ, δὲ ἰθέως τὴν κεφαλὴν ἀποτάμνουσι, καὶ τὰ 
+χρήματα αὐτοῦ .διαλαγχάνουσι οὗ πρῶτοι τῶν 
+μαντίων" ἣν δὲ οἱ ἐπελθόντες μάντιες ἀπολύσωσι, 
+ἄλλοι πάρεισι μάντιες καὶ μάλα ἄλλοι. ἣν ὧν οἱ 
+πλεῦνες τὸν ἄνθρωπον ἀπολύσωσι, δέδοκται τοῖσι 
+πρώτοισι τῶν μαντίων αὐτοῖσι ἀπόλλυσθαι. 
+
+69. ᾿Απολλῦσι δῆτα αὐτοὺς τρόπῳ τοιῷδε' 
+ἐπεὰν ἅμαξαν φρυγάνων πλήσωσι καὶ ὑποξεύξωσι 
+Bois, ἐμποδίσαντες τοὺς .μάντιας καὶ χεῖρας 
+ὀπίσω δήσαντες καὶ στομώσαντες κατερηγνῦσι ἐς 
+µέσα τὰ φρύγανα, ὑποπρήσαντες δὲ αὐτὰ ἀπιεῖσι 
+φοβήσαντες τοὺς βοῦς. πολλοὶ μὲν δὴ συγκατα- 
+καίονται τοῖσι μάντισι βόες, πολλοὶ δὲ περι- 
+κεκαυμένοι ἀποφεύγουσι, ἐπεὰν αὐτῶν ὁ ῥυμὸς 
+κατακαυθῇ. κατακαίουσι δὲ τρόπῳ τῷ εἰρημένῳ 
+καὶ δι ἄλλας αἰτίας τοὺς μάντιας, ψευδομάντιας 
+καλέοντες. τοὺς 6 ἂν ἀποκτείνῃ βασιλεύς, τού- 
+των οὐδὲ τοὺς παῖδας λείπει, ἀλλὰ πάντα τὰ 
+ἔρσενα κτείνει, τὰ δὲ θήλεα οὐκ ἀδικέει. 
+
+70. “Όρκια δὲ ποιεῦνται Σκύθαι ὧδε πρὸς τοὺς 
+ἂν ποιέωνται' ἐς κύλικα μεγάλην. κεραμίνην οἶνον 
+ἐγχέαντες αἷμα συμμίσγουσι τῶν τὸ ὅρκιον ταμ- 
+266 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 68-70 
+
+
+by the king's hearth that their custom is to swear 
+most solemnly. Forthwith the man whom they 
+allege to be forsworn is seized and brought in, and 
+when he comes the diviners accuse him, saying that 
+their divination shows him to have forsworn himself 
+by the king’s hearth, and that this is the cause 
+of the king's sickness; and the man vehemently 
+denies that he is forsworn. So when he denies it 
+the king sends for twice as many diviners: and if 
+they too, looking into their art, prove him guilty 
+of perjury, then straightway he is beheaded and 
+his goods are divided among the first diviners; 
+but if the later diviners acquit him, then other 
+diviners come, and yet again others. If then 
+the greater number of them acquit the man, it is 
+decreed that the first diviners shall themselves be 
+put to death. 
+
+69. And this is the manner of their death. Men 
+yoke oxen to a waggon laden with sticks and make 
+the diviners fast amid these, fettering their legs and 
+binding their hands behind them and gagging them ; 
+then they set fire to the sticks and drive the oxen 
+away, affrighting them. Often the oxen are burnt 
+to death with the diviners, and often the pole of 
+their waggon is burnt through and the oxen escape 
+with a scorching. They burn their diviners for other 
+reasons, too, in the manner aforesaid, calling them 
+false prophets. When the king puts a man to death, 
+neither does he leave the sons alive, but kills all 
+the males of the family; to the females he does 
+no hurt. 
+
+70. As for the giving of sworn pledges to such as 
+are to receive them, this is the Scythian fashion: 
+they take blood from the parties to the agreement 
+
+
+267 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+νομένων, τύψαντες ὑπέατι ἢ ἐπιταμόντες μαχαίρῃ 
+σμικρὸν τοῦ σώματος, καὶ ἔ ἔπειτα ἀποβάψαντες 
+ἐς τὴν κύλικα ἀκινάκην καὶ ὁ ὀιστοὺς καὶ σάγαριν 
+καὶ ἀκόντιον' ἐπεὰν δὲ ταῦτα ποιήσωσι, κατεύ- 
+χονται πολλὰ καὶ ἔπειτα ἀποπίνουσι αὐτοί τε 
+οἱ τὸ ὅρκιον ποιεύμενοι καὶ τῶν ἑπομένων οἱ 
+πλείστου ἄξιοι. 
+
+71. Tagal δὲ τῶν βασιλέων ἐν Γέρροισι εἰσὶ 
+ἐς ὃ ὁ Βορυσθένης ἐστὶ Trpo raros"! ἐνθαῦτα, 
+ἐπεάν σφι ἀποθάνῃ ὁ ο βασιλεύς, ὅ ὄρυγμα γῆς μέγα 
+ὀρύσσουσι τετράγωνον, ἔτοιμον δὲ τοῦτο ποιή- 
+σαντες ἀναλαμβάνουσι τὸν νεκρόν, κατακεκηρω- 
+μένον μὲν τὸ σῶμα, τὴν δὲ νηδὺν ἀνασχισθεῖσαν 
+καὶ καθαρθεῖσαν, πλέην κυπέρου κεκομμένου καὶ 
+θυμιήματος καὶ σελίνου σπέρματος καὶ ἀννήσου, 
+συνερραμμένην ὀπίσω, καὶ κομίζουσι ἐν ἁμάξη és 
+ἆλλο ἔθνος. οἳ δὲ ἂν παραδέξωνται κομισθέντα 
+τὸν vex pov, ποιεῦσι τά περ οἱ βασιλήιοι Σκύθαι" 
+τοῦ ὠτὸς ἀποτάμνονται, τρίχας περικείρονται, 
+βραχίονας περιτάµνονται, μέτωπον καὶ ; ῥῖνα κατα- 
+μύσσονται, διὰ τῆς ἀριστερῆς χειρὸς ὀιστοὺς δια- 
+Βυνέονται. ἐνθεῦτεν. δὲ κομίξουσι ἐν τῇ ἁμάξῃ 
+τοῦ βασιλέος τὸν νέκυν ἐς ἄλλο ἔθνος τῶν ap- 
+xovar οἳ δέ σφι ἔπονται ἐς τοὺς πρότερον, ἦλθον. 
+ἐπεὰν δὲ πάντας περιέλθωσι τὸν νέκυν κομίζοντες, 
+ἔν τε Γέρροισι ἔσχατα κατοικηµένοισι εἰσὶ τῶν 
+ἐθνέων τῶν ἄρχουσι καὶ ἐν τῇσι Tapiot. καὶ 
+ἔπειτα, ἐπεὰν θέωσι τὸν νέκυν ἐν τῇσι θήκῃσι € ἐπὶ 
+στιβάδος, παραπήξαντες αἰχμὰς ἔνθεν καὶ ἔνθεν 
+τοῦ νεκροῦ ξύλα ὑπερτείνουσι καὶ ἔπειτα ῥιψὶ 
+
+
+| és ὅ--προσπλωτός is bracketed by Stein, chiefly on the 
+ground of inconsistency with ch. 53. 
+
+
+268 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 70-71 
+
+
+by making a little hole or cut in the body with an 
+awl or a knife, and pour it mixed with wine into a great 
+earthenware cup, wherein they then dip a scimitar 
+and arrows and an axe and a javelin; and when this 
+is done the makers of the sworn agreement them- 
+selves, and the most honourable of their followers, 
+drink of the blood after solemn imprecations. 
+
+71. The burial-places of the kings are in the land 
+of the Gerrhi, which is the end of the navigation of 
+the Borysthenes. There, whenever their king has 
+died, the Scythians dig a great four-cornered pit in 
+the ground; when this is ready they take up the 
+dead man—his body enclosed in wax, his belly cut 
+open and cleansed and filled with cut marsh-plants 
+and frankincense and parsley and anise seed, and 
+sewn up again—and carry him on 8 waggon to 
+another tribe. Then those that receive the dead 
+man at his coming do the same as do the Royal 
+Scythians ; that is, they cut off a part of their ears, 
+shave their heads, make cuts round their arms, tear 
+their foreheads and noses, and pierce their left hands 
+with arrows. Thence the bearers carry the king's 
+body on the waggon to another of the tribes which 
+they rule, and those to whom they have already 
+come follow them ; and having carried the dead 
+man to all in turn, they are in the country of the 
+Gerrhi, the farthest distant of all tribes under their 
+rule, and at the place of burial Then, having laid 
+the dead in the tomb on a couch, they plant spears 
+all round the body and lay across them wooden 
+planks, which they then roof over with hides; in the 
+
+
+269 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+καταστεγάξουσι, ἐν δὲ τῇ λοιπῇ εὐρυχωρίῃ τῆς 
+θήκης τῶν παλλακέων τε μίαν ἀποπνίξαντες 
+θάπτουσι καὶ τὸν οἰνοχόον καὶ μάγειρον καὶ 
+ἱπποκόμον καὶ διήκονον καὶ ἀγγελιηφόρον καὶ 
+ἵππους καὶ τῶν ἄλλων πάντων ἀπαρχὰς καὶ 
+φιάλας χρυσέας" ἀργύρῳ δὲ οὐδὲν οὐδὲ χαλκῷ 
+χρέωνται. ταῦτα δὲ ποιήσαντες χοῦσι πάντες 
+χῶμα μέγα, ἁμιλλώμενοι καὶ προθυμεόμενοι ὡς 
+μέγιστον ποιῆσαι. 
+
+72. ᾿Ενιαυτοῦ δὲ περιφερομένου αὖτις ποιεῦσι 
+τοιόνδε' λαβόντες τῶν λοιπῶν θεραπόντων τοὺς 
+ἐπιτηδεοτάτους (οἳ δὲ εἰσὶ Σκύθαι ἐγγενέες' οὗτοι 
+γὰρ θεραπεύο υσι τοὺς ἂν αὐτὸς ὁ βασιλεὺς κελεύσῃ, 
+ἀργυρώνητοι δὲ οὐκ. εἰσί σφι θεράποντες), τούτων 
+ὧν τῶν διηκόνων ἐ ἐπεὰν ἀποπνίξωσι πεντήκοντα καὶ 
+ἵππους τοὺς καλλίστους πεντήκοντα, ἐξελόντες 
+αὐτῶν τὴν κοιλίην καὶ καθήραντες ἐμπιπλᾶσι 
+ἀχύρων καὶ συρράπτουσι. ἁψῖδος δὲ ἥμισυ ἐπὶ 
+δύο ξύλα στήσαντες ὕπτιον καὶ τὸ ἕτερον ἥμισυ 
+τῆς ἀψῖδος ἐπ᾿ ἕτερα δύο, καταπήξαντες τρόπῳ 
+τοιούτῳ πολλὰ ταῦτα, ἔπειτα τῶν ἵππων κατὰ τὰ 
+μήκεα ξύλα παχέα διελάσαντες μέχρι τῶν τραχή- 
+λων ἀναβιβάξουσι αὐτοὺς ἐπὶ τὰς ἀψῖδας" τῶν 
+δὲ αἱ E πρότεραι aides v ὑπέχουσι τοὺς ὤμους 
+τῶν ἵππων, αἱ δὲ ὄπισθε παρὰ τοὺς μηροὺς τὰς 
+γαστέρας ὑπολαμβάνουσι: σκέλεα δὲ ἀμφότερα 
+κατακρέµαται μετέωρα. χαλινοὺς δὲ καὶ στόμια 
+ἐμβαλόντες ἐς TOUS. ἵππους κατατείνουσι ἐς τὸ 
+πρόσθε αὐτῶν καὶ ἔ ἔπειτα ἐκ πασσάλων δέουσι. 
+τῶν δὲ δὴ νεηνίσκων τῶν ἀποπεπνιγμένων τῶν 
+πεντήκοντα ἕνα ἕκαστον ἀναβιβάξουσι ἐπὶ τὸν 
+ἵππον, ὧδε ἀναβιβάζοντες, ἐπεὰν νεκροῦ ἑκάστου 
+270 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 71-72 
+
+
+open space which is left in the tomb they bury, after 
+strangling, one of the king's concubines, his cup- 
+bearer, his cook, his groom, his squire, and his 
+messenger, besides horses, and first-fruits of all else, 
+and golden cups; for the Scythians make no use of 
+silver or bronze. Having done this they all build a 
+great barrow of earth, vying zealously with one 
+another to make this as great as may be. 
+
+72. With the completion of a year they begin a 
+fresh practice. Taking the trustiest of the rest of 
+the king's servants (and these are native-born 
+Scythians, for only those serve the king whom he. 
+bids so to do, and none of the Scythians have 
+servants bought by money) they strangle fifty of 
+these squires and fifty of their best horses and empty 
+and cleanse the bellies of all and fill them with chaff. 
+Then they make fast the half of a wheel to two 
+posts, so that it hangs down, and the other half to 
+another pair of posts, till many posts thus furnished 
+are planted in the ground, and, presently, driving 
+thick stakes lengthways through the horses' bodies 
+to their necks, they lay the horses aloft on the 
+wheels so that the wheel in front supports the 
+horse's shoulders and the wheel behind takes the 
+weight of the belly by the hindquarters, and the 
+forelegs and hindlegs hang free ; and putting bridles 
+and bits in the horses mouths they stretch the 
+bridles to the front and make them fast with pegs. 
+Then they take each one of the fifty strangled young 
+men and mount him on the horse; their way of 
+doing it is to drive an upright stake through each 
+
+
+271 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+παρὰ τὴν ἄκανθαν ξύλον ὀρθὸν διελάσωσι μέχρι 
+τοῦ τραχήλου", κάτωθεν δὲ ὑπερέχει τοῦ ξύλου 
+τούτου τὸ ἐς τόρμον πηγνύουσι τοῦ ἑτέρου ξύλου 
+τοῦ διὰ τοῦ ἵππου. ἐπιστήσαντες δὲ κύκλῳ τὸ 
+σῆμα ἱππέας τοιούτους ἀπελαύνουσι. 
+
+73. Οὕτω μὲν τοὺς βασιλέας θάπτουσι τοὺς 
+δὲ ἄλλους Σκύθας, ἐπεὰν ἀποθάνωσι, περιάγουσι 
+οἱ ἀγχοτάτω προσήκοντες κατὰ τοὺς φίλους ἐν 
+ἁμάξῃσι κειμένους" τῶν δὲ ἕ ἕκαστος ὑποδεκόμενος 
+εὐωχέει τοὺς ἑπομένους, καὶ τῷ νεκρῷ ἁπάντων 
+παραπλησίως παρατίθησι. ὅσα τοῖσι ἄλλοισι. 
+ἡμέρας δὲ τεσσεράκοντα οὕτω οἱ ἰδιῶται περιά- 
+Ύονται, ἔπειτα θάπτονται. θάψαντες δὲ οἱ Σκύθαι 
+καθαίρονται τρόπῳ τοιῷδε. σμησάμενοι τὰς κεφα- 
+λὰς καὶ ἐκπλυνάμενοι ποιεῦσι περὶ τὸ σῶμα τάδε" 
+ἐπεὰν ξύλα στήσωσι τρία ἐς ἄλληλα κεκλιμένα, 
+περὶ ταῦτα πίλους εἰρινέους περιτείνουσι, συμφρά- 
+Eavtes δὲ ὡς μάλιστα λίθους ἐκ πυρὸς διαφανέας 
+ἐσβάλλουσι és σκάφην κειμένην ἐν μέσῳ τῶν 
+ξύλων τε καὶ τῶν πίλων. 
+
+14. Ἔστι δέ σφι κάνναβις φυομένη ἐν τῇ χώρῃ 
+πλὴν παχύτητος καὶ μεγάθεος τῷ λίνῳ ἐμφερε- 
+στάτη" ταύτῃ δὲ πολλῷ ὑπερφέρει ἡ κάνναβις. 
+αὕτη καὶ αὐτομάτη καὶ «σπειρομένη φύεται, καὶ 
+ἐξ αὐτῆς Θρήικες μὲν καὶ εἵματα ποιεῦνται τοῖσι 
+λινέοισι ὁμοιότατα" οὐδ᾽ ἄν, ὅστις μὴ κάρτα 
+τρίβων εἴη αὐτῆς, διαγνοίη λίνου ἢ καννάβιος 
+ἐστί’ ὃς δὲ μὴ εἶδέ κω τὴν κανναβίδα, λίνεον 
+δοκήσει εἶναι τὸ εἷμα. 
+
+T5. Ταύτης ὧν. οἱ Σκύθαι τῆς καννάβιος τὸ 
+σπέρμα ἐπεὰν λάβωσι, ὑποδύνουσι ὑπὸ τοὺς 
+πίλους, καὶ ἔπειτα ἐπιβάλλουσι τὸ σπέρμα ἐπὶ 
+
+
+272 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 72-75 
+
+
+body passing up by the spine to the neck, and 
+enough of the stake projects below to be fixed in a 
+hole made in the other stake, that which passes 
+through the horse. So having set horsemen of this 
+fashion round about the tomb they ride away. 
+
+13. Such is their way of burying their kings. ΑΙ 
+other Scythians, when they die, are laid in waggons 
+and carried about among their friends by their 
+nearest of kin; each receives them and entertains 
+the retinue hospitably, setting before the dead man 
+about as much of the fare as he serves to the rest. 
+All but the kings are thus borne about for forty 
+days and then buried. After the burial the Scythians 
+cleanse themselves as I will show: they anoint and 
+wash their heads; as for their bodies, they set up 
+three poles leaning together to a point and cover 
+these over with woollen rugs; then, in the place 
+so enclosed to the best of their power, they make 
+a pit in the centre beneath the poles and the rugs 
+and throw red-hot stones into it. 
+
+74. They have hemp growing in their country, 
+very like flax, save that the hemp is by much the 
+thicker and taller. This grows both of itself and 
+also by their sowing, and of it the Thracians even 
+make garments which are very like linen; nor could 
+any, save he were a past master in hemp, know 
+whether they be hempen or linen; whoever has 
+never yet seen hemp will think the garment to 
+be linen. 
+
+75. The Scythians then take the seed of. this 
+hemp and, creeping under the rugs, they throw it 
+
+
+273 
+VOL. 11. T | 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τοὺς διαφανέας λίθους τῷ πυρί' τὸ δὲ θυμιᾶται 
+ἐπιβαλλόμενον καὶ ἀτμίδα παρέχεται τοσαύτην 
+ὥστε Ἑλληνικὴ οὐδεμία ἄν μιν πυρίη ἀποκρα- 
+τήσειε. οἱ δὲ Σκύθαι ἀγάμενοι τῇ πυρίῃ ὠρύονται. 
+τοῦτό σφι ἀντὶ λουτροῦ ἐστι’ οὐ γὰρ δὴ λούονται 
+ὕδατι τὸ παράπαν τὸ σῶμα. αἱ δὲ γυναῖκες αὐτῶν 
+ὕδωρ παραχέουσαι κατασώχουσι περὶ λίθον πρη- 
+χὺν τῆς κυπαρίσσου καὶ κέδρου καὶ λιβάνου ξύλου, 
+καὶ ἔπειτα τὸ κατασωχόμενον τοῦτο παχὺ ἐὸν 
+καταπλάσσονται πᾶν τὸ σῶμα καὶ τὸ πρόσωπον' 
+καὶ ἅμα μὲν εὐωδίη Vins ἀπὸ τούτου ἴσχει, ἅμα 
+δὲ ἀπαιρέουσαι τῇ δευτέρῃ ἡμέρῃ τὴν κατα- 
+πλαστὺν γίνονται καθαραὶ καὶ λαμπραί. 
+
+76. Ἐεινικοῖσι δὲ νομαίοισι καὶ οὗτοι φεύγουσι 
+αἰνῶς χρᾶσθαι, μήτε τεῶν ἄλλων, Ἑλληνικοῖσι 
+δὲ καὶ ἥκιστα, ὡς διέδεξαν ᾿Ανάχαρσίς τε καὶ 
+δεύτερα αὖτις Σκύλης. τοῦτο μὲν yap ᾿Ανάχαρσις 
+ἐπείτε γῆν πολλὴν θεωρήσας καὶ ἀποδεξάμενος 
+κατ᾽ αὐτὴν σοφίην πολλὴν ἐκομίξετο ἐς ἤθεα τὰ 
+Σκυθέων, πλέων δι Ελλησπόντου προσίσχει ἐς 
+Κυξικον' καὶ εὗρε γὰρ τῇ μητρὶ τῶν θεῶν avd- 
+yovras τοὺς Κυξικηνοὺς ὁρτὴν μεγαλοπρεπέως 
+κάρτα, εὔξατο τῇ μητρὶ ὁ ᾿Ανάχαρσις, ἦν σῶς καὶ 
+ὑγιὴς ἀπονοστήσῃ ἐς ἑωυτοῦ, θύσειν τε κατὰ 
+ταὐτὰ κατὰ ὥρα τοὺς Κυξικηνοὺς ποιεῦντας καὶ 
+παννυχίδα στήσειν. ὡς δὲ ἀπίκετο ἐς τὴν Σκυ- 
+θικήν, καταδὺς ἐς τὴν καλεομένην Ὑλαίην (ἡ È 
+ἔστι μὲν παρὰ τὸν ᾿Αχιλλήιον δρόμον, τυγχάνει 
+
+é πᾶσα ἐοῦσα δενδρέων παντοίων πλέη), ἐς ταύ- 
+την δὴ καταδὺς ὁ ᾿Ανάχαρσις τὴν ὁρτὴν ἐπετέλεε 
+πᾶσαν τῇ θεᾷ, τύμπανόν τε ἔχων καὶ ἐκδησάμενος 
+ἀγάλματα. καὶ τῶν τις Σκυθέων καταφρασθεὶς 
+
+
+274 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 75-76 
+
+
+on the red-hot stones; and, being so thrown, it 
+smoulders and sends forth so much steam that no 
+Greek vapour-bath could surpass it. The Scythians 
+howl in joy for the vapour-bath. This serves them 
+instead of bathing, for scarce ever do they wash their 
+bodies with water. But their women grind with a 
+rough stone cypress and cedar and frankincense 
+wood, pouring water also thereon, and with the 
+thick stuff so ground they anoint all their bodies 
+and faces, whereby not only does a fragrant scent 
+abide upon them, but when on the second day they 
+take off the ointment their skin becomes clean and 
+shining. 
+
+76. But as regards foreign usages, the Scythians 
+(as others) are wondrous loth to practise those of any 
+other country, and of Hellas in especial, as was 
+proved in the case of Anacharsis and again also of 
+Scyles. For when Anacharsis, having seen much of 
+the world in his travels and given many proofs of his 
+wisdom therein, was coming back to the Scythian 
+country, he sailed through the Hellespont and put in 
+at Cyzicus; where, finding the Cyzicenes celebrating 
+the feast of the Mother of the Gods with great 
+pomp, he vowed to this same Mother that, if he re- 
+turned to his own country safe and sound, he would 
+sacrifice to her as he saw the Cyzicenes do, and 
+establish a nightly rite of worship. So when he 
+came to Scythia, he hid himself in the country 
+called Woodland (which is beside the Race of 
+Achilles, and is all overgrown with every kind of 
+wood); hiding himself there Anacharsis celebrated 
+the goddess's ritual with exactness, carrying a cym- 
+bal and hanging about himself images. Then some 
+
+
+275 
+T 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+αὐτὸν ταῦτα ποιεῦντα ἐσήμηνε τῷ βασιλέι Σαυλίῳ' 
+ὃ δὲ καὶ αὐτὸς ἀπικόμενος ὡς εἶδε τὸν ᾿Ανάχαρσιν 
+ποιεῦντα ταῦτα, τοξεύσας αὐτὸν ἀπέκτεινε. καὶ 
+νῦν ἦν τις εἴρηται περὶ ᾿Αναχάρσιος, οὐ φασί μιν 
+Σκύθαι γινώσκειν, διὰ τοῦτο ὅτι ἐξεδήμησέ τε ἐς 
+τὴν Ἑλλάδα καὶ ξεινικοῖσι ἔθεσι διεχρήσατο. ὡς 
+δ᾽ ἐγὼ ἤκουσα Ἐ ύμνεω τοῦ ᾿Αριαπείθεος ἐπιτρόπου, 
+εἶναι αὐτὸν Ἰδανθύρσου τοῦ Σκυθέων βασιλέος 
+πάτρων, παῖδα δὲ εἶναι Γνούρου τοῦ Λύκου τοῦ 
+Σπαργαπείθεος. εἰ ὧν ταύτης ἦν τῆς οἰκύης ὁ 
+᾿Ανάχαρσις, ἴστω ὑπὸ τοῦ ἀδελφεοῦ ἀποθανών" 
+᾿Ιδάνθυρσος γὰρ ἣν παῖς Σαυλίου, Σαύλιος δὲ ἣν 
+ὁ ἀποκτείνας ᾿Ανάχαρ σιν. 
+
+77. Καίτοι τινὰ ἤδη ἤ ἤκουσα λόγον ἄλλον ὑπὸ 
+Πελοποννησίων λεγόμενον, ὡς ὑπὸ τοῦ Σκυθέων 
+βασιλέος ᾿Ανάχαρσις ἀποπεμφθεὶς τῆς Ἑλλάδος 
+μαθητὴς Ὑένοιτο, ὀπίσω τε ἀπονοστήσας pain 
+πρὸς τὸν ἀποπέμψαντα ' Ἓλληνας πάντας ἀσχό- 
+λους εἶναι és πᾶσαν ᾿σοφίην πλὴν Λακεδαιμονίων, 
+τούτοισι δὲ εἶναι μούνοισι. σωφρόνως δοῦναί τε καὶ 
+δέξασθαι λόγον. ἀλλ᾽ οὗτος μὲν ὁ λόγος ἄλλως 
+πέπλασται ὑπ᾽ αὐτῶν Ἑλλήνων, ὁ Ò ὧν ἀνὴρ 
+ὥσπερ πρότερον εἰρέθη διεφθάρη. 
+
+78. Οὗτος μέν νυν οὕτω δὴ ἔπρηξε διὰ ξεινικά 
+τε νόμαια καὶ Ἑλληνικὰς ὁμιλίας. πολλοῖσι δὲ 
+κάρτα ἔτεσι ὕστερον Σκύλης ὁ ᾿Αριαπείθεος ἔπαθε 
+παραπλήσια τούτῳ. ᾿Αριαπείθεϊ γὰρ τῷ Σκυθέων 
+βασιλέι γίνεται μετ᾽ ἄλλων παίδων κύλης" ἐξ 
+Ἱστριηνῆς δὲ γυναικὸς οὗτος γίνεται καὶ οὐδαμῶς 
+ἐγχωρίης" τὸν ἡ μήτηρ αὕτη γλῶσσάν, τε Ἑλλάδα 
+καὶ γράμματα ἐδίδαξε. μετὰ δὲ χρόνῳ ὕστερον 
+
+
+270 
+
+
+| 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 76-78 
+
+
+Scythian marked him doing this and told it to the 
+king, Saulius ; who, coming himself to the place and 
+seeing Anacharsis performing these rites, shot an 
+arrow at him and slew him. And now the Scythians, 
+if they are asked about Anacharsis, say they have no 
+knowledge of him; this is because he left his 
+country for Hellas and followed the customs of 
+strangers. But according to what I heard from 
+Tymnes, the deputy for Ariapithes, Anacharsis was 
+uncle to Idanthyrsus king of Scythia, and he was the 
+son of Gnurus, son of Lycus, son of Spargapithes. 
+Now if Anacharsis was truly of this family, then I 
+would have him know that he was slain by his own 
+brother; for Idanthyrsus was the son of Saulius, and 
+it was Saulius who slew Anacharsis. 
+
+77. It is true that I have heard another story told 
+by the Pelponnesians; namely, that Anacharsis had 
+been sent by the king of Scythia and had been a 
+learner of the ways of Hellas, and after his return 
+told the king who sent him that all Greeks were 
+zealous for every kind of learning, save only the 
+Lacedaemonians; but that these were the only 
+Greeks who spoke and listened with discretion. But 
+this is a tale vainly invented by the Greeks them- 
+selves; and be this as it may, the man was put to 
+death as I have said. 
+
+78. Such-like, then, was the fortune that befell 
+Anacharsis, all for his foreign usages and his compan- 
+ionship with Greeks; and a great many years after- 
+wards, Scyles, son of Ariapithes, suffered-a like fate. 
+Scyles was one of the sons born to Ariapithes, king of 
+Scythia ; but his mother was of Istria,! and not native- 
+born; and she taught him to speak and read Greek. 
+
+
+1 In what is now the Dobrudja. 
+
+
+277 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+᾿Αριαπείθης μὲν τελευτᾷ δόλῳ ὑπὸ Σπαργαπείθεος 
+^ 9 4 / 4 . 7 
+τοῦ ᾿Αγαθύρσων βασιλέος, Σκύλης δὲ τήν τε 
+βασιληίην παρέλαβε καὶ τὴν γυναῖκα τοῦ πατρός, 
+- y . , / . e e , , /, 
+τῇ οὔνομα ἦν Ὀποίη' ἦν δὲ αὕτη ἡ Ὀποίη ἀστή, 
+ἐξ ἧς ἦν Ὄρικος ᾿Αριαπείθεϊ παῖς. βασιλεύων 
+δὲ Σκυθέων 0 Σκύλης διαίτῃ οὐδαμῶς ἠρέσκετο 
+cA ^ € ^ 
+Σκυθικῇ, ἀλλὰ πολλὸν πρὸς τὰ ᾿Ελληνικὰ μᾶλλον 
+τετραμμένος ἦν ἀπὸ παιδεύσιος τῆς ἐπεπαίδευτο, 
+ἐποίεέ τε τοιοῦτο' εὖτε ἀγάγοι τὴν στρατιὴν τὴν 
+’ } N ο. / y e . 
+Σκυθέων ἐς τὸ Βορυσθενεϊτέων ἄστυ (οἱ δὲ Βορυ- 
+σθενεῖται ὀὗτοι λέγουσι σφέας αὐτοὺς εἶναι Μιλη- 
+΄ ε 
+σίους), ἐς τούτους ὅκως ἔλθοι ὁ Σκύλης, τὴν μὲν 
+^ 4 
+στρατιὴν καταλίπεσκε ἐν τῷ προαστείῳ, αὐτὸς δὲ 
+ὅκως ἔλθοι ἐς τὸ τεῖχος καὶ τὰς πύλας ἐγκληίσειε, 
+τὴν στολὴν ἀποθέμενος τὴν Σκυθικὴν λάβεσκε ἂν 
+ε / 9 ^ y 3 A s , , 
+Ελληνίδα ἐσθῆτα, ἔχων & ἂν ταύτην ἠγόραζε 
+οὔτε δορυφόρων ἑπομένων οὔτε ἄλλου οὐδενός: τὰς 
+δὲ πύλας ἐφύλασσον, μή τίς μιν Σκυθέων ἴδοι 
+ἔχοντα ταύτην τὴν στολήν" καὶ τά τε ἄλλα ἐχρᾶτο 
+διαίτῃ Ελληνικῇ καὶ θεοῖσι ἱρὰ ἐποίεε κατὰ νόμους 
+. ε 7 σ . / ^ A 4 
+τοὺς Ελλήνων. ὅτε δὲ διατρίψειε μῆνα ἢ πλέον 
+τούτου, ἁπαλλάσσετο ἐνδὺς τὴν Σκυθικὴν στολήν. 
+ταῦτα ποιέεσκε πολλάκις καὶ οἰκία τε ἐδείματο ἐν 
+Βορυσθένεϊ καὶ γυναῖκα ἔγημε ἐς αὐτὰ ἐπιχωρίην. 
+79. ᾿Επείτε δὲ ἔδεέ οἱ κακῶς γενέσθαι, ἐγίνετο 
+ἀπὸ προφάσιος τοιῆσδε. ἐπεθύμησε Διονύσῳ 
+Βακχείῳ τελεσθῆναι: μέλλοντι δέ οἱ ἐς χεῖρας 
+ἄγεσθαι τὴν τελετὴν ἐγένετο φάσμα μέγιστον. ἣν 
+οἱ ἐν Βορυσθενεϊτέων τῇ πόλι οἰκίης μεγάλης καὶ 
+πολυτελέος περιβολή, τῆς καὶ ὀλίγῳ τι πρότερον 
+4 ^ 
+τούτων μνήμην εἶχον, τὴν πέριξ λευκοῦ λίθου 
+ld - ε 
+σφίγγες τε καὶ γρῦπες ἕστασαν" ἐς ταύτην ὁ θεὸς 
+
+
+278 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 7879 
+
+
+As time passed, Ariapithes was treacherously slain 
+by Spargapithes, king of the Agathyrsi, and Scyles 
+inherited the kingship and his father's wife, whose 
+name was Opoea, a Scythian woman, and she bore to 
+Scyles a son, Oricus. SoScyles was king of Scythia ; 
+but he was in no wise content with the Scythian 
+manner of life, and was much more inclined to Greek 
+ways, from the bringing up which he had received ; 
+so this is what he did: having led the Scythian army 
+to the city of the Borysthenites (who say that they 
+are Milesians)—having, I say, come thither, he would 
+ever leave his army in the suburb of the city, but he 
+himself, entering within the walls and shutting the 
+gates would doff his Scythian apparel and don a 
+Greek dress ; and in it he went among the towns- 
+men unattended by spearmen or any others (the 
+people guarding the gates, lest any Scythian should 
+see him wearing this apparel) and in every way 
+followed the Greek manner of life, and worshipped 
+the gods according to Greek usage. Then having 
+so spent a month or more, he put on Scythian 
+dress and left the city. This he did often; and he 
+built him a house in. Borysthenes, and married 
+and brought thither a wife of the people of the 
+country. 
+
+19. But when the time came that evil should 
+befall him, this was the cause of it: he conceived a 
+desire to be initiated into the rites of the Bacchic 
+Dionysus; and when he was about to begin the 
+sacred mysteries, he saw a wondrous vision. He 
+had in the city of the Borysthenites a spacious 
+house, great and costly (that same house whereof I 
+have just made mention), all surrounded by sphinxes 
+and griffins wrought in white stone ; this house was 
+
+
+279 
+
+
+" 
+t 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐνέσκηψε βέλος. καὶ 1) μὲν κατεκάη πᾶσα, Σκύλης 
+δὲ οὐδὲν τούτου εἵνεκα ἧσσον ἐπετέλεσε τὴν τελε- 
+τήν. Σκύθαι δὲ τοῦ βακχεύειν πέρι “Ελλησι 
+ὀνειδίξουσι" οὐ γὰρ φασὶ οἰκὸς εἶναι θεὸν ἐξευρί- 
+σκειν τοῦτον ὅστις μαίνεσθαι ἐνάγει ἀνθρώπους. 
+ἐπείτε δὲ ἐτελέσθη τῷ Βακχείῳ ὁ ὁ Σκύλης, διεπρή- 
+στευσε τῶν τις Βορυσθενεϊτέων πρὸς τοὺς Σκύθας 
+λέγων “ Ἡμῖν γὰρ καταγελᾶτε, @ Σκύθαι, ὅτι 
+βακχεύομεν καὶ ἡμέας; ὁ θεὸς λαμβάνει" νῦν οὗτος 
+
+ὁ δαίμων καὶ τὸν ὑμέτερον Βασιλέα λελάβηκε, 
+καὶ βακχεύει τε καὶ ὑπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ μαίνεται. e 
+δέ μοι ἀπιστέετε, ἕπεσθε, καὶ ὑμῖν ἐγὼ δέξω.” 
+εἵποντο τῶν Σκύθεων οἱ προεστεῶτες, καὶ αὐτοὺς 
+ἀναγαγὼν ὁ Ῥορυσθενεΐτης λάθρῃ ἐπὶ πύργον 
+κατεῖσε. ἐπείτε δὲ παρήιε σὺν τῷ θιάσῳ ὁ Σκύ- 
+λης καὶ εἶδόν μιν βακχεύοντα οἱ Σκύθαι, κάρτα 
+συμφορὴν μεγάλην ἐποιήσαντο, ἐξελθόντες δὲ 
+ἐσήμαινον πάσῃ τῇ στρατιῇ τὰ ἴδοιεν. 
+
+80. Ὡς δὲ μετὰ ταῦτα ἐξήλαυνε ὁ Σκύλης ἐς 
+ἤθεα τὰ ἑωυτοῦ, οἱ Σκύθαι προστησάμενοι τὸν 
+ἀδελφεὸν αὐτοῦ Ὀκταμασάδην, γεγονότα ἐκ τῆς 
+Τήρεω θυγατρός, ἐπανιστέατο τῷ Σκύλῃ. ὃ δὲ 
+μαθὼν τὸ γινόμενον ἐπ᾽ ἑωυτῷ καὶ τὴν αἰτίην δι 
+ἣν ἐποιέετο, καταφεύγει ἐς τὴν Θρηίκην. πυθό- 
+μενος δὲ ὁ Ὀκταμασάδης ταῦτα ἐστρατεύετο ἐπὶ 
+τὴν Θρηίκην. ἐπείτε δὲ ἐπὶ τῷ Ἴστρῳ ἐγένετο, 
+ἠντίασάν μιν οἱ (Θρήικες, μελλόντων δὲ αὐτῶν 
+συνάψειν ἔπεμψε Σιτάλκης παρὰ τὸν Ὄκταμα- 
+σάδην λόγων τοιάδε. “Ti δεῖ ἡμέας ἀλλήλων 
+πειρηθῆναι; εἷς μέν pev τῆς ἀδελφεῆς παῖς, ἔχεις 
+δέ μευ ἀδελφεόν. σὺ δέ μοι ἀπόδος τοῦτον, καὶ ἐγὼ 
+σοὶ τὸν σὸν Σκύλην παραδίδωμι στρατιῇ δὲ μήτε 
+
+
+280 
+
+
+yes 
+BOOK IV. 79-80 
+
+
+smitten by a thunderbolt and wholly destroyed by 
+fire. But none the less for this did Scyles perform 
+the rite to the end. Now the Scythians make this 
+Bacchic revelling a reproach against the Greeks, 
+saying that it is not reasonable to set up a god who 
+leads men on to madness. So when Scyles had been 
+
+—initiated into the Bacchic rite, some one of the 
+Borysthenites scoffed at the Scythians: “ Why," 
+said he, “you Scythians mock us for revelling and 
+being possessed by the god ; but now this deity has 
+taken possession of your own king, so that he is 
+revelling and is maddened by the god. If you 
+will not believe me, follow me now and I will 
+show him to you.” The chief men among the 
+Scythians followed him, and the Borysthenite 
+brought them up secretly and set them on a tower; 
+whence presently, when Scyles passed by with 
+his company of worshippers, they saw him among 
+the revellers; whereat being greatly moved, they 
+left the city and told the whole army what they 
+had seen. 
+
+80. After this Scyles rode away to his own place ; 
+but the Scythians rebelled against him, setting up 
+for their king his brother Octamasades, son of the 
+daughter of Teres. Scyles, learning how they dealt 
+with him and the reason of their so doing, fled into 
+Thrace ; and when Octamasades heard this he led 
+his army thither. But when he was beside the Ister, 
+the Thracians barred his way ; and when the armies 
+were like to join battle Sitalces sent this message to 
+Octamasades: * Wherefore should we essay each 
+other's strength? You are my sister's son, and you 
+have with you my brother; do you give him back to 
+me, and I give up your Scyles to you; and let 
+
+
+281 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+σὺ κινδυνεύσῃς μήτ᾽ ἐγώ." ταῦτά οἱ πέμψας 
+ὁ Σιτάλκης ἐπεκηρυκεύετο ἣν γὰρ παρὰ τῷ 
+Ὀκταμασάδῃ ἀδελφεὸς Σιτάλκεω πεφευγώς. o 
+δὲ Ὀκταμασάδης καταινέει ταῦτα, ἐκδοὺς δὲ 
+τὸν ἑωυτοῦ μήτρωα Σιτάλκῃ ἔλαθε τὸν ἀδελ.- 
+φεὸν Σκύλην. καὶ Σιτάλκης μὲν παραλαβὼν τὸν 
+ἀδελφεὸν -ἀπήγετο, Σκύλεω δὲ Ὀκταμασάδης 
+αὐτοῦ ταύτῃ ἀπέταμε τὴν κεφαλήν. οὕτω μὲν 
+περιστέλλουσι͵ τὰ σφέτερα νόμαια, Σκύθαι, τοῖσι 
+δὲ παρακτωμένοισι ξεινικοὺς νόμους τοιαῦτα 
+ἐπιτίμια διδοῦσι. 
+
+81, Πλῆθος δὲ τὸ Σκυθέων οὐκ οἷός τε ἐγενόμην 
+ἀτρεκέως πυθέσθαι, ἀλλὰ διαφόρους λόγους περὶ 
+τοῦ ἀριθμοῦ ἤ ἤκουον" καὶ γὰρ κάρτα ' πολλοὺς εἶναι 
+σφέας καὶ ὀλίγους ὡς Σκύθας εἶναι. τοσόνδε 
+μέντοι ἀπέφαινόν μοι ἐς ὄψιν. ἔστι μεταξὺ Bopv- 
+σθένεός τε ποταμοῦ καὶ Ὑπάνιος χῶρος, οὔνομα 
+δέ οἱ ἐστὶ ᾿Εξαμπαῖος' τοῦ καὶ ὀλίγῳ τι πρότερον 
+τούτων μνήμην εἶχον, φάμενος ἐν αὐτῷ κρήνην 
+ὕδατος πικροῦ εἶναι, ἀπ᾽ ἧς τὸ ὕδωρ ἆ ἀπορρέον τὸν 
+
+Trav ἄποτον ποιέειν. ἐν τούτῳ τῷ χώρῳ 
+κέεται χαλκήιον, μεγάθεϊ καὶ ἑξαπλήσιον τοῦ ἐπὶ 
+στόματι τοῦ Πόντου κρητῆρος, τὸν Παυσανίης ὁ 
+Κλεομβρότου ἀνέθηκε. ὃς δὲ μὴ εἶδέ κω τοῦτον, 
+ὧδε δηλώσω: ἑξακοσίους ἀμφορέας εὐπετέως 
+χωρέει τὸ ἐν Σκύθῃσι χαλκήιον, πάχος δὲ τὸ 
+Σκυθικὸν τοῦτο χαλκήιον ἐστὶ δακτύλων ἕξ. τοῦτο 
+ὧν ἔλεγον οἱ ἐπιχώριοι ἀπὸ ἀρδίων γενέσθαι. 
+βουλόμενον γὰρ τὸν σφέτερον βασιλέα, τῷ οὔνομα 
+εἶναι ᾿Αριάνταν, τοῦτον εἰδέναι τὸ πλῆθος τὸ 
+Σκυθέων κελεύειν μιν πάντας Σκύθας ἄρδιν ἕκα- 
+
+
+282 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 8o-81 
+
+
+neither of us endanger our armies." Such was the 
+offer sent to him by Sitalces ; for Sitalces’ brother 
+had fled from him and was with Octamasades. The 
+Scythian agreed to this, and received his brother 
+Scyles, giving up his own uncle to Sitalces. Sitalces 
+then took his brother and carried him away, but 
+Octamasades beheaded Scyles on the spot. So 
+closely do the Scythians guard their usages, and 
+such penalties do they lay on those who add foreign 
+customs to their own. 
+
+81. How many the Scythians are I was not able 
+to learn with exactness, but the accounts which I 
+heard concerning the number did not tally, some 
+saying that they are very many, and some that they 
+are but few, counted as Scythians. But thus much 
+they made me to see for myself :— There is a region 
+between the rivers Borysthenes and Hypanis, the 
+name of which is Exampaeus; this is the land 
+whereof I lately made mention when I said that 
+there is a spring of salt water in it, the water from 
+which makes the Hypanis unfit to drink. In this 
+region stands a bronze vessel, as much as six times 
+greater than the cauldron dedicated by Pausanias son 
+of Cleombrotus at the entrance of the Pontus.! To 
+any who has not yet seen this latter I will thus make 
+my meaning plain: the Scythian bronze vessel easily 
+contains five thousand and four hundred gallons, and 
+it is of six fingers’ thickness. This vessel (so said 
+the people of the country) was made out of arrow- 
+heads. For their king, whose name was Ariantas, 
+desiring to know the numbers of the Scythians, 
+commanded every Scythian to bring him the point 
+
+
+! Pausanias, the victor of Plataea, set up this cauldron in 
+477 B.C. to commemorate the taking of Byzantium. 
+
+
+283 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+στον μίαν ἀπὸ τοῦ ὀιστοῦ 1 κομίσαι" ὃς δ᾽ ἂν μὴ 
+κομίσῃ, θάνατον ἀπείλεε, κομισθῆναί τε δὴ χρῆμα 
+πολλὸν ἀρδίων καί οἱ δόξαι ἐξ αὐτέων μνημόσυ- | 
+vov ποιήσαντι λιπέσθαι. ἐκ τουτέων δή μιν τὸ | 
+
+αλκήιον ποιῆσαι τοῦτο καὶ ἀναθεῖναι ἐς τὸν 
+
+Εξαμπαῖον τοῦτον. ταῦτα δὲ περὶ τοῦ πλήθεος 
+τ ου diu ἤκουον. 
+
+2. Θωμάσια δὲ ἡ χώρη αὕτη οὐκ ἔχει, χωρὶς 
+
+ἢ ὅτι ποταμούς τε πολλῷ μεγίστους καὶ ἀριθμὸν 
+πλείστους. τὸ δὲ ἀποθωμάσαι ἄξιον καὶ πάρεξ 
+τῶν ποταμῶν καὶ τοῦ μεγάθεος τοῦ πεδίου παρέ- 
+χεται, εἰρήσεται: ἴχνος Ἡρακλέος φαίνουσι ἐν 
+πέτρῃ ἐνεόν, τὸ ἔοικε μὲν Βήματι ἀνδρός, € ἔστι δὲ 
+τὸ μέγαθος δίπηχυ, παρὰ τὸν Τύρην ποταμόν. 
+τοῦτο. μέν νυν τοιοῦτο ἐστί, ἀναβήσομαι δὲ ἐς τὸν 
+κατ ἀρχὰς hia λέξων λόγον. 
+
+83. Παρασκευαξομένου Δαρείου ἐπὶ τοὺς Σκύ-] 
+θας καὶ ἐπιπέμποντος ἀγγέλους ἐπιτάξοντας τοῖσι! 
+μὲν πεξὸν στρατόν, τοῖσι δὲ νέας παρέχειν, τοῖσι] 
+δὲ ξεύγνυσθαι τὸν Θρήΐκιον Βόσπορον, ᾿Αρτάη 
+βανος ὁ Ὑστάσπεος, ἀδελφεὸς ἐὼν Δαρείου) 
+ἐχρήιξε μηδαμῶς αὐτὸν στρατηίην ἐπὶ Σκύθας 
+ποιέεσθαι, καταλέγων τῶν Σκυθέων τὴν ἀπορίην) 
+ἀλλ᾽ οὐ γὰρ ἔπειθε συμβουλεύων οἱ χρηστάι 
+ὃ μὲν ἐπέπαυτο, ὃ δέ, ἐπειδή οἱ τὰ ἅπαντ. " 
+παρεσκεύαστο, ἐξήλαυνε τὸν στρατὸν ἐν» 
+Σούσων. 
+
+84. ᾿Ενθαῦτα τῶν Περσέων Οἱόβαζος ἐδεήθ'. 
+Δαρείου τριῶν ἐόντων oí παίδων καὶ πάντωὰ 
+στρατευομένων ἕνα αὐτῷ καταλειφθῆναι. ὃ δι 
+
+
+1 Γἀπὸ τοῦ ὀϊστοῦ] Stein. i 
+
+
+284 i 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 81-84 
+
+
+from an arrow, threatening all who should not so do 
+with death. So a vast number of arrow-heads was 
+brought, and he resolved to make and leave a 
+memorial out of them; and he made of these this 
+bronze vessel, and set it up in this country Exam- 
+paeus. Thus much I heard concerning the number 
+of the Scythians. 
+
+82. As for marvels, there are none in the land, 
+save that it has rivers by far the greatest and the 
+most numerous in the world; and over and above 
+the rivers and the great extent of the plains there 
+is one most wondrous thing for me to tell of: they 
+show a footprint of Heracles by the river Tyras 
+stamped on rock, like the mark of a man's foot, 
+but two cubits in length. Having so described this 
+I will now return to the story which I began to 
+relate.! . 
+
+83. While Darius was making preparations? against 
+|the Scythians, and sending messengers to charge 
+isome to furnish an army and some to furnish ships, 
+|and others again to bridge the Thracian Bosporus, 
+Artabanus, son of Hystaspes and Darius’ brother, 
+desired of him by no means to make an expedition 
+against the Scythians, telling him how hard that 
+ipeople were to deal withal. But when he could not 
+move the king for all his good counsel, Artabanus 
+eased to advise, and Darius, all his preparations 
+yeing now made, led his army from Susa. 
+
+84. Then Oeobazus a Persian, who had three 
+ons, all with the army, entreated Darius that one 
+ight be left behind. “Nay,” said the king, “ you 
+
+
+| 
+
+
+1 In ch. 1. 
+
+
+2 The date of Darius’ expedition is uncertain. Grote 
+hinks it probable that it took place before 514 B.c. 
+
+
+285 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἔφη ὡς φίλῳ ἐόντι καὶ μετρίων δεομένῳ πάντας 
+τοὺς παῖδας καταλείψειν. ὁ μὲν δὴ Οἰόβαξος 
+περιχαρὴς ἦν, ἐλπίζων. τοὺς υἱέας στρατηίης 
+ἀπολελύσθαι" ὃ δὲ ἐκέλευσε τοὺς ἐπὶ τούτων 
+ἐπεστεῶτας ἀποκτεῖναι πάντας τοὺς Οἰοβάξου 
+παῖδας. 
+
+85. Καὶ οὗτοι μὲν ἀποσφαγέντες αὐτοῦ ταύτῃ 
+ἐλείποντο: Δαρεῖος δὲ ἐπείτε πορευόμενος ἐκ 
+Σούσων ἀπίκετο τῆς Καλχηδονίης ἐπὶ τὸν Βόσ- 
+πορον iva ἔζευκτο 7) γέφυρα, ἐνθεῦτεν ἐσβὰς ἐς 
+νέα ἔπλεε ἐπὶ τὰς Kvavéas καλευμένας, τὰς πρό- 
+τερον. πλαγκτὰς ' Ἕλληνες φασὶ εἶναι, ἑζόμενος δὲ 
+ἐπὶ ῥίῳ ἐθηεῖτο, τὸν Πόντον ἐόντα ἀξιοθέητον. 
+πελαγέων γὰρ ἁπάντων πέφυκε θωμασιώτατος" 
+τοῦ τὸ μὲν μῆκος στάδιοι εἰσὶ ἑκατὸν καὶ χίλιοι 
+καὶ μύριοι, τὸ δὲ εὗρος, τῇ εὐρύτατος αὐτὸς ἑωυτοῦ, 
+στάδιοι τριηκόσιοι καὶ «τρισχίλιοι. τούτου τοῦ 
+πελάγεος τὸ στόμα ἐστὶ. εὖρος τέσσερες στάδιοι" 
+μῆκος δὲ τοῦ στόματος, ὁ αὐχήν, τὸ δὴ Βόσπορος 
+κέκληται, Kar ὃ δὴ ἔξευκτο ἡ γέφυ a, ἐπὶ 
+σταδίους εἴκοσι καὶ ἑκατόν ἐστι. τείνει. ἐς τὴν 
+Προποντίδα ὁ Βόσπορος: ἡ δὲ Προποντὶς ἐοῦσα 
+εὖρος μὲν σταδίων πεντακοσίων, μῆκος δὲ τετρα- 
+κοσίων καὶ χιλίων, καταδιδοῖ ἐ ἐς τὸν Ἑλλήσποντον 
+ἐόντα στεινότητα μὲν ἑπτὰ σταδίους, μῆκος δὲ 
+τετρακοσίους. ἐκδιδοὶ δὲ ὁ Ἑλλήσποντος ἐς 
+χάσμα πελάγεος τὸ δὴ Αἰγαῖον καλέεται. 
+
+86. Μεμέτρηται δὲ ταῦτα ὧδε. νηῦς ἐπίπαν 
+
+
+1 Rocks (the ** Wandering ” or ‘‘Clashing ” Rocks of Greek 
+legend) off the northern end of the Bosporus. 
+* Herodotus is wrong. The Black Sea is 720 miles long 
+
+
+286 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 84-86 
+
+
+| are my friend, and your desire is but reasonable ; I 
+will leave all your sons." Oeobazus rejoiced greatly, 
+supposing that his sons were released from service ; 
+but Darius bade those whose business it was to put 
+all Oeobazus' sons to death. 
+
+85. So their throats were cut, and they were all 
+left there ; but Darius, wheu in his march from Susa 
+he came to that place in the territory of Calchedon 
+where the Bosporus was bridged, took ship and 
+sailed to the Dark Rocks! (as they are called) which 
+the Greeks say did formerly move upon the waters ; 
+there he sat on a headland and viewed the Pontus, 
+a marvellous sight. For it is of all seas the 
+most wonderful. Its length is eleven thousand one 
+hundred furlongs, and its breadth, at the place 
+where it is widest, three thousand three hundred.? 
+The channel at the entrance of this sea is four 
+furlongs broad ; and the length of the channel, the 
+narrow neck called Bosporus, across which the bridge 
+was thrown, is as much as an hundred and twenty 
+furlongs. The Bosporus reaches as far as to the 
+Propontis; and the Propontis is five hundred fur- 
+longs wide and fourteen hundred long; its outlet 
+is the Hellespont, which is no wider than seven 
+furlongs, and four hundred in length. The Helles- 
+pont issues into a gulf of the sea which we call 
+Aegaean. 
+
+86. These measurements have been made after 
+
+
+(about 6280 stades), and, at the point of Herodotus’ measure- 
+ment, about 270 miles broad; its greatest breadth is 380 
+miles. His estimates for the Propontis and Hellespont 
+are also in excess, though not by much; the Bosporus 
+is a little longer than he says, but its breadth is correctly 
+given. 
+
+
+287 
+
+
+ΠΕΒΟΡΟΤΟΡ 
+
+
+μάλιστά kp κατανύει ἐν μακρημερίῃ ὀργυιὰς 
+ἑπτακισμυρίας, νυκτὸς δὲ ἑξακισμυρίας. ἤδη ὧν 
+ἐς μὲν Φᾶσιν ἀπὸ τοῦ στόματος (τοῦτο γὰρ ἐστὶ 
+τοῦ Πόντου μακρότατον) ἡμερέων ἐννέα πλόος 
+ἐστὶ καὶ νυκτῶν ὀκτώ: αὗται ἕνδεκα μυριάδες καὶ 
+ἑκατὸν ὀργυιέων γίνονται, ἐκ δὲ τῶν ὀργυιέων 
+τουτέων στάδιοι ἑκατὸν καὶ χίλιοι καὶ μύριοι 
+> / 9 . ιά M ; \ lA 
+εἰσί. ἐς δὲ Θεμισκύρην τὴν ἐπὶ Θερμώδοντι 
+ποταμῷ ἐκ τῆς Σινδικῆς (κατὰ τοῦτο γὰρ ἐστὶ 
+τοῦ Πόντου εὐρύτατον) τριῶν τε ἡμερέων καὶ δύο 
+νυκτῶν πλόος" αὗται δὲ τρεῖς μυριάδες καὶ.τριή- 
+κοντα ὀργυιέων γίνονται, στάδιοι δὲ τριηκόσιοι 
+
+A 4 M / / e / 
+
+καὶ τρισχίλιοι. ὁ μέν νυν Πόντος οὗτος καὶ Βόσ- 
+« 
+πορός τε καὶ ᾿Ελλήσποντος οὕτω TÉ μοι μεμετρέ- 
+αται καὶ κατὰ τὰ εἰρημένα πεφύκασι, παρέχεται 
+A M / ε / . 2 ^ , > A 
+δὲ καὶ λίμνην ὁ Π]όντος οὗτος ἐκδιδοῦσαν ἐς αὐτὸν 
+oU πολλῷ TED ἐλάσσω ἑωυτοῦ, 4 Μαιῆτίς τε 
+καλέεται καὶ μήτηρ τοῦ Πόντου. 
+
+87. Ὁ δὲ Δαρεῖος ὡς ἐθεήσατο τὸν Πόντον, 
+ἔπλεε ὀπίσω ἐπὶ τὴν γέφυραν, τῆς ἀρχιτέκτων 
+> 7 Μ ὃ / - / δὲ N 
+ἐγένετο Μανδροκλέης Σάμιος" θεησάμενος δὲ καὶ 
+
+A / F 2 ΄ , 9 9 ^ / 
+τὸν Βόσπορον στήλας ἔστησε δύο én’ αὐτοῦ λίθου 
+λευκοῦ, ἐνταμὼν γράμματα ἐς μὲν τὴν ᾿Ασσύρια 
+3 M M ΄ » 4 e 
+
+ἐς δὲ τὴν Ελληνικά, ἔθνεα πάντα ὅσα περ ἦγε' 
+ἦγε δὲ πάντα τῶν ἦρχε. τούτων μυριάδες ἐξηρι- 
+θμήθησαν, χωρὶς τοῦ ναυτικοῦ, ἑβδομήκοντα σὺν 
+ἱππεῦσι, νέες δὲ ἑξακόσιαι συνελέχθησαν. τῇσι 
+μέν νυν στήλῃσι ταύτῃσι Βυξάντιοι κομίσαντες ἐς 
+τὴν πόλιν ὕστερον τούτων ἐχρήσαντο πρὸς τὸν 
+
+
+288 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 86-87 
+
+
+this manner: a ship will for the most part accom- 
+plish seventy thousand fathoms in a long day's. 
+voyage, and sixty thousand by night. This being 
+granted, seeing that from the Pontus’ mouth to the 
+Phasis (which is the greatest length of the sea) it is 
+a voyage of seven days and eight nights, the length 
+of it will be an hundred and ten thousand and 
+one hundred fathoms, which make eleven thousand 
+one hundred furlongs. From the Sindic region to 
+Themiscura on the river Thermodon (for here is the: 
+greatest width of the Pontus) it is a voyage of two 
+days and three nights, that is of thirty thousand and 
+thirty fathoms, or three thousand and thirty furlongs. 
+
+Thus have I measured this Pontus and the Bosporus 
+
+and Hellespont, and they are such as I have said. 
+
+Moreover there is seen a lake issuing into the 
+Pontus and not much smaller than the sea itself; it 
+is called the Maeetian lake, and the mother of the 
+Pontus. 
+
+87. Having viewed the Pontus, Darius sailed back 
+to the bridge, of which Mandrocles of Samos was the 
+chief builder ; and when he had viewed the Bosporus 
+also, he set up by it two pillars of white stone, 
+engraving on the one in Assyrian and on the other 
+in Greek characters the names of all the nations that 
+` were in his army; in which were all the nations 
+subject to him. The full tale of these, over and 
+above the fleet, was seven hundred thousand men, 
+reckoning therewith horsemen, and the number of 
+ships that mustered was six hundred. These pillars 
+were afterwards carried by the Byzantines into their 
+city and there used to build the altar of Orthosian ! 
+
+
+1 A deity worshipped especially at Sparta ; the meaning of 
+the epithet is uncertain. 
+
+
+289 
+VOL. II. U 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+βωμὸν τῆς ᾿Ὀρθωσίης ᾿Αρτέμιδος, χωρὶς ἑνὸς 
+λίθου" οὗτος δὲ κατελείφθη παρὰ τοῦ Διονύσου 
+τὸν νηὸν ἐν Βυζαντίῳ, γραμμάτων ᾿Ασσυρίων 
+πλέος. τοῦ δὲ Βοσπόρου ὁ ὁ χῶρος τὸν ἔζευξε βα- 
+σιλεὺς Δαρεῖος, ὡς ἐμοὶ δοκέει συμβαλλομένῳ, 
+μέσον ἐστὶ Βυξαντίου τε καὶ τοῦ ἐπὶ στόματι 
+ἱροῦ. 
+
+88. Δαρεῖος δὲ μετὰ ταῦτα ἡσθεὶς τῇ σχεδίῃ 
+τὸν ἀρχιτέκτονα αὐτῆς Μανδροκλέα τὸν Σάμιον 
+ἐδωρήσατο πᾶσι δέκα' ἀπ᾽ ὧν δὴ Μανδροκλέης 
+ἀπαρχὴν ζῷα γραψάμενος πᾶσαν τὴν ζεῦξιν τοῦ 
+Βοσπόρου καὶ βασιλέα τε Δαρεῖον ἐν προεδρίῃ 
+κατήμενον καὶ τὸν στρατὸν αὐτοῦ. διαβαίνοντα 
+ταῦτα JEU ΕΘ ἀνέθηκε ἐς τὸ "Ηραιον, èr- 
+
+
+γράψας τάδε. 
+
+
+Βόσπορον ἰχθυόεντα γεφυρώσας ἀνέθηκε 
+'Μανδροκλέης᾽ "Heg μνημόσυνον σχεδίης, 
+
+αὑτῷ μὲν στέφανον περιθείς, Σαμίοισι δὲ κῦδος, 
+Δαρείου βασιλέος ἐκτελέσας κατὰ νοῦν. 
+
+
+89. Ταῦτα μέν νυν τοῦ ζεύξαντος τὴν γέφυραν 
+μνημόσυνα ἐγένετο' Δαρεῖος δὲ δωρησάμενος 
+Μανδροκλέα διέβαινε € ἐς τὴν Εὐρώπην, τοῖσι Ἴωσι 
+παραγγείλας πλέειν ἐς τὸν Π]όντον μέχρι Ἴστρου 
+ποταμοῦ, ἐπεὰν δὲ ἀπίκωνται ἐς τὸν Ἴστρον, ἐν- 
+θαῦτα αὐτὸν περιμένειν ξευγνύντας τὸν ποταμόν. 
+τὸ γὰρ δὴ ναυτικὸν ἦγον ᾿]ωνές τε καὶ Αἰολέες 
+καὶ ᾿Ελλησπόντιοι. ὁ μὲν δὴ ναυτικὸς στρατὸς 
+Κυανέας διεκπλώσας ἔπλεε ἰθὺ τοῦ, Ἴστρου, 
+ἀναπλώσας δὲ ἀνὰ ποταμὸν. δυῶν ἡ ἡμερέων πλόον 
+ἀπὸ θαλάσσης, τοῦ ποταμοῦ τὸν αὐχένα, ἐκ τοῦ 
+
+
+290 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 87-89 
+
+
+Artemis, save for one column covered with Assyrian 
+writing that was left beside the temple of Dionysus 
+at Byzantium. Now if my reckoning be true, the 
+place where king Darius bridged the Bosporus was 
+midway between Byzantium and the temple at the 
+entrance of the sea. 
+
+88. After this, Darius, being well content with his 
+bridge of boats, made to Mandrocles the Samian a 
+gift of ten of every kind;! wherefrom Mandrocles 
+took the firstfruits and therewith had a picture made 
+showing the whole bridge of the Bosporus, and 
+Darius sitting aloft on his throne and his army cross- 
+ing; this he set up in the temple of RETO with this 
+inscription : 
+
+
+‘This Picture Mandrocles to Here gives, 
+Whereby for ever his Achievement lives ; 
+A Bridge of Boats o'er Bosp' rus. fishful Flood 
+He built ; Darius saw, and judg'd it good ; 
+Thus for himself won Mandrocles a Crown, 
+And for his isle of Samos high Renown." 
+
+
+89. This then was done to preserve the name of 
+the builder of the bridge. Darius, having rewarded 
+Mandrocles, crossed over to Europe; he had bidden 
+the Ionians to sail into the Pontus as far as the 
+river Ister, and when they should come thither to 
+wait for him there, bridging the river meanwhile ; 
+for the fleet was led by Ionians and Aeolians and 
+men of the Hellespont. So the fleet passed between 
+the Dark Rocks and made sail straight for the Ister, 
+and, having gone a two days’ voyage up the river 
+from the sea, set about bridging the narrow channel 
+
+1 Apparently a proverbial expression for great abundance ; 
+cp. a similar phrase in ix. 81. 
+
+201 
+u 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+σχίζεται τὰ στόματα τοῦ Ἴστρου, ἐξεύγνυε. 
+Δαρεῖος δὲ ὡς διέβη τὸν Βόσπορον κατὰ τὴν 
+σχεδίην, ἐπορεύετο διὰ τῆς Θρηίκης, ἀπικόμενος 
+δὲ ἐπὶ Tedpov ποταμοῦ τὰς πηγὰς ἐστρατοπεδεύ- 
+σατο ἡμέρας τρεῖς. 
+
+90. ʻO δὲ .Τέαρος λέγεται ὑπὸ τῶν περιοίκων 
+εἶναι ποταμῶν ἄριστος τά τε ἄλλα Ta ἐς ἄκεσιν 
+φέροντα καὶ δὴ καὶ ἀνδράσι καὶ ἵπποισι ψ ώρην 
+ἀκέσασθαι. εἰσὶ δὲ αὐτοῦ αἱ πηγαὶ δυῶν δέουσαι 
+τεσσεράκοντα, ἐκ πέτρης τῆς αὐτῆς ῥέουσαι, καὶ 
+αἳ μὲν αὐτέων εἰσὶ ψυχραὶ, at δὲ Üeppaí. ὁδὸς δ᾽ 
+ἐπ᾽ αὐτάς ἐστι ἴση eE“ Ἡραίου τε πόλιος τῆς παρὰ 
+Περίνθῳ καὶ ἐξ ᾿Απολλωνίης τῆς ἐν τῷ Εὐξείνῳ 
+πόντῳ, δυῶν ἡμερέων ἑκατέρη. ἐκδιδοῖ δὲ 0 
+Τέαρος οὗτος ἐς τὸν Κοντάδεσδον ποταμόν, ὁ δὲ 
+Κοντάδεσδος ἐς τὸν ᾿Αγριάνην, ὁ δὲ ᾿Αγριάνης ἐς 
+τὸν "Efpov, ὃ δὲ ἐς θάλασσαν τὴν παρ᾽. Aive 
+τ 
+
+. E A A . \ . , / € 
+i τοῦτον ὧν TOv ποταμὸν ἀπικόμενος ὁ 
+κ... ὡς ἐστρατοπεδεύσατο, ἡσθεὶς τῷ ποταμῷ 
+στήλην ἔστησε καὶ ἐνθαῦτα, γ γράμματα nat Sep 
+λέγοντα τάδε. “ Tedpov ποταμοῦ κεφαλαὶ ὕδωρ 
+ἄριστόν τε καὶ κάλλιστον παρέχονται πάντων 
+ποταμῶν: καὶ ἐπ᾽ αὐτὰς ἀπίκετο ἐλαύνων ἐπὶ 
+Σκύθας στρατὸν ἀνὴρ ἄριστός τε καὶ κάλλιστος 
+πάντων ἀνθρώπων, Δαρεῖος δ: Ὑστάσπεος, Περ- 
+σέων τε καὶ πάσης τῆς ἠπείρου βασιλεύς.᾽ ταῦτα 
+δὲ ἐνθαῦτα ἐγράφη. 
+
+92. Δαρεῖος δὲ ἐνθεῦτεν ὁρμηθεὶς ἀπίκετο ἐπ' 
+ἄλλον ποταμὸν τῷ οὔνομα ᾿Αρτησκός ἐστι, ὃς διὰ 
+Ὀδρυσέων ῥ ῥέει. ἐπὶ τοῦτον δὴ τὸν ποταμὸν Tt- 
+κόμενος ἐποίησε τοιόνδε: ἀποδέξας χωρίον τῇ 
+
+
+203 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 89-92 
+
+
+of the river where its divers mouths part asunder. 
+But Darius, having passed over the Bosporus on the 
+bridge of ships, journeyed through Thrace to the 
+sources of the river Tearus, where he encamped for 
+three days. 
+
+90. The Tearus is said in the country round to 
+be the best of all rivers for all purposes of healing, 
+but especially for the healing of the scab in men 
+and horses. Its springs are thirty-eight in number, 
+some cold and some hot, all flowing from the same 
+rock. There are two roads to the place, one from 
+the town of Heraeum near to Perinthus, one from 
+Apollonia on the Euxine sea; each is a two days’ 
+journey. This Tearus is a tributary of the river 
+Contadesdus, and that of the Agrianes, and that 
+again of the Hebrus, which issues into the sea near 
+the city of Aenus. 
+
+91. Having then come to this river and there 
+encamped, Darius was pleased with the sight of it, 
+and set up yet another pillar there, graven with this 
+inscription, * From the sources of the river Tearus 
+flows the best and fairest of all river waters; hither 
+came, leading his army against the Scythians, the 
+best and fairest of all men, even Darius son of 
+Hystaspes and king of Persia and all the mainland." 
+Such was the inscription. 
+
+92. Thence Darius set forth and came to another 
+river called Artescus, which flows through the 
+country of the Odrysae; whither having come, he 
+marked a place for the army to see, and bade every 
+
+
+293 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+στρατιῇ ἐκέλευε πάντα ἄνδρα λίθον ἕνα παρεξ- 
+ιόντα τιθέναι ἐς τὸ ἀποδεδεγμένον τοῦτο χωρίον. 
+ὡς δὲ ταῦτα ἡ στρατιὴ ἐπετέλεσε, ἐνθαῦτα κολω- 
+νοὺς μεγάλους τῶν λίθων καταλιπὼν ἀπήλαυνε 
+τὴν στρατιήν. 
+
+93. Πρὶν δὲ ἀπικέσθαι ἐπὶ τὸν Ἴστρον, πρώ- 
+τους αἱρέει Γέτας τοὺς ἀθανατίζοντας. οἱ μὲν 
+γὰρ τὸν Σαλμυδησσὸν ἔχοντες Θρήικες καὶ ὑπὲρ 
+᾿Απολλωνίης τε καὶ Μεσαμβρίης πόλιος oien- 
+μένοι, καλεύμενοι δὲ Κυρμιάναι καὶ Νιψαῖοι, 
+ἀμαχητὶ σφέας αὐτοὺς παρέδοσαν Δαρείῳ' οἱ δὲ 
+Γέται πρὸς ἀγνωμοσύνην τραπόμενοι: αὐτίκα 
+ἐδουλώθησαν, Θρηίκων ἐόντες ἀνδρηιότατοι καὶ 
+δικαιότατοι. i 
+
+94. ᾿Αθανατίξουσι δὲ τόνδε τὸν τρόπον' οὔτε 
+ἀποθνήσκειν ἑωυτοὺς νομίξουσι ἰέναι τε τὸν ATON- 
+λύμενον παρὰ Σάλμοξιν Saipova: of δὲ αὐτῶν τὸν 
+αὐτὸν τοῦτον ὀνομάζουσι Γεβελέιξιν: διὰ πεντε- 
+τηρίδος τε τὸν πάλῳ λαχόντα αἰεὶ σφέων αὐτῶν 
+ἀποπέμπουσι ἄγγελον παρὰ τὸν Σάλμοξιν, ἐντελ- 
+λόμενοι τῶν ἂν ἑκάστοτε δέωνται, πέμπουσι δὲ 
+ὧδε' oi μὲν αὐτῶν ταχθέντες ἀκόντια τρία ἔχουσι, 
+ἄλλοι δὲ διαλαβόντες τοῦ ἀποπεμπομένου παρὰ 
+τὸν Σάλμοξιν τὰς χεῖρας καὶ τοὺς πόδας, ἀνακινή- 
+σαντες αὐτὸν μετέωρον ῥίπτουσι ἐς τὰς λόγχας. 
+ἣν μὲν δὴ ἀποθάνῃ ἀναπαρείς, τοῖσι δὲ ἴλεος ὁ 
+θεὸς δοκέει εἶναι' ἣν δὲ μὴ ἀποθάνῃ, αἰτιῶνται 
+αὐτὸν τὸν ἄγγελον, φάμενού μιν ἄνδρα κακὸν εἶναι, 
+αἰτιησάμενοι δὲ τοῦτον ἄλλον ἀποπέμπουσι" ἐν- 
+τέλλονται δὲ ἔτι ζῶντι. οὗτοι οἱ αὐτοὶ Θρήικες 
+καὶ πρὸς βροντήν τε καὶ ἀστραπὴν τοξεύοντες 
+
+
+294 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 92-94 
+
+
+man as he passed by lay one stone in this place 
+which he had shown. His army having so done, he 
+made and left great hillocks of the stones and led 
+his army away. 
+
+93. But before he came to the Ister, he first sub- 
+dued the Getae, who pretend to be immortal. The 
+Thracians of Salmydessus and of the country above 
+the towns of Apollonia and Mesambria, who are 
+called Cyrmianae and Nipsaei, surrendered them- 
+selves unresisting to Darius; but the Getae, who are 
+the bravest and most law-abiding of all Thracians, 
+resisted with obstinacy, and were enslaved forthwith. 
+
+94. As to their claim to be immortal, this is how 
+_ they show it: they believe that they do not die, 
+but that he who perishes goes to the god Salmoxis, 
+or Gebeleizis, as some of them call him. Once in 
+every five years they choose by lot one of their 
+people and send him as a messenger to Salmoxis, 
+charged to tell of their needs; and this is their 
+manner of sending: Three lances are held by men 
+thereto appointed; others seize the messenger to 
+Salmoxis by his hands and feet, and swing and 
+hurl him aloft on to the spear-points. If he be 
+killed by the cast, they believe that the god regards 
+them with favour; but if he be not killed, they 
+blame the messenger himself, deeming him a bad 
+man, and send another messenger in place of him 
+whom they blame. It is while the man yet lives 
+that they charge him with the message. Moreover 
+when there is thunder and lightning these same 
+
+
+295 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἄνω πρὸς τὸν οὐρανὸν ἀπειλέουσι τῷ θεῷ, οὐδένα 
+ἄλλον θεὸν νοµίζοντες εἶναι εἰ μὴ τὸν σφέτερον. 
+
+95. Ὡς δὲ ἐγὼ πυνθάνομαι τῶν τὸν Ἑλλήσ- 
+ποντον οἰκεόντων Ἑλλήνων καὶ Ἰόντον, τὸν 
+Σάλμοξιν τοῦτον ἐόντα ἄνθρωπον δουλεῦσαι ἐν 
+Σάμῳ, δουλεῦσαι δὲ Πυθαγόρῃ τῷ Μνησάρχου, 
+ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ αὐτὸν γενόμενον ἐλεύθερον χρήματα 
+κτήσασθαι μεγάλα, κτησάμενον δὲ ἀπελθεῖν ἐς 
+τὴν ἑωυτοῦ. ἅτε δὲ κακοβίων τε ἐόντων τῶν 
+Θρηίκων καὶ ὑπαφρονεστέρων, τὸν Σάλμοξιν 
+τοῦτον ἐπιστάμενον δίαιτάν τε ᾿Ἰάδα καὶ ἤθεα 
+βαθύτερα ἢ κατὰ Θρήικας, οἷα "Ελλησί τε ὁμιλή- 
+σαντα καὶ Ἑλλήνων οὐ τῷ ἀσθενεστάτῳ σοφιστῇ 
+Πυθαγόρη, κατασκευάσασθαι ἀνδρεῶνα, ἐς τὸν 
+πανδοκεύοντα τῶν ἀστῶν τοὺς πρώτους καὶ εὖω- 
+χέοντα ἀναδιδάσκειν ὡς οὔτε αὐτὸς οὔτε οἱ 
+συμπόται αὐτοῦ οὔτε οἱ ἐκ τούτων αἰεὶ γινόμενοι 
+ἀποθανέονται, ἀλλ᾽ ἥξουσι ἐς χῶρον τοῦτον ἵνα 
+αἰεὶ περιεόντες ἕξουσι τὰ πάντα ἀγαθά. ἐν ᾧ δὲ 
+ἐποίεε τὰ καταλεχθέντα καὶ ἔλεγε ταῦτα, ἐν 
+τούτῳ κατάγαιον οἴκημα ἐποιέετο. ὡς δέ οἱ 
+παντελέως εἶχε τὸ οἴκημα, ἐκ μὲν τῶν Θρηίκων 
+ἠφανίσθη, καταβὰς δὲ κάτω ἐς τὸ κατάγαιον 
+οἴκημα διαιτᾶτο ἐπ᾿ ἔτεα τρία" of δέ μιν ἐπό- 
+θεόν τε καὶ ἐπένθεον ὡς τεθνεῶτα. τετάρτῳ δὲ 
+ἔτεϊ ἐφάνη τοῖσι Θρήιξι, καὶ οὕτω πιθανά σφι 
+ἐγένετο τὰ ἔλεγε ὁ Σάλμοξις. ταῦτα φασί μιν 
+ποιῆσαι. 
+
+96. ᾿Εγὼ δὲ περὶ μὲν τούτου καὶ τοῦ κατα- 
+γαίου οἰκήματος οὔτε ἀπιστέω οὔτε ὧν πιστεύω 
+τι λίην, δοκέω δὲ πολλοῖσι ἔτεσι πρότερον τὸν 
+Σάλμοξιν τοῦτον γενέσθαι Πυθαγόρεω εἴτε δὲ 
+
+
+206 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 94-96 
+
+
+Thracians shoot arrows skyward as a threat to the 
+god, believing in no other god but their own. 
+
+95. For myself, I have been told by the Greeks 
+who dwell beside the Hellespont and Pontus that 
+this Salmoxis was a man who was once a slave 
+in Samos, his master being Pythagoras son of 
+Mnesarchus ; presently, after being freed and gain- 
+ing great wealth, he returned to his own country. 
+Now the Thracians were a meanly-living and simple- 
+witted folk, but this Salmoxis knew Ionian usages 
+and a fuller way of life than the Thracian; for he 
+had consorted with Greeks, and moreover with one of 
+the greatest Greek teachers, Pythagoras; wherefore 
+he made himself a hall, where he entertained and 
+feasted the chief among his countrymen, and taught 
+them that neither he nor his guests nor any of their 
+descendants should ever die, but that they should go 
+to a place where they would live for ever and have 
+all good things. While he was doing as I have said 
+and teaching this doctrine, he was all the while 
+making him an underground chamber. When this 
+was finished, he vanished from the sight of the 
+Thracians, and descended into the underground 
+chamber, where he lived for three years, the 
+Thracians wishing him back and mourning him for 
+dead; then in the fourth year he appeared to the 
+Thracians, and thus they came to believe what 
+Salmoxis had told them. Such is the Greek story 
+about him. 
+
+96. For myself, I neither disbelieve nor fully 
+believe the tale about Salmoxis and his underground 
+chamber ; but I think that he lived many years before 
+Pythagoras; and whether there was a man called 
+
+
+297 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐγένετό τις Σάλμοξις ἄνθρωπος, εἴτ᾽ ἐστὶ δαύμων 
+τις Γέτῃσι οὗτος ἐπιχώριος, χαιρέτω. 
+
+97. Οὗτοι μὲν δὴ τρόπῳ τοιούτῳ χρεώμενοι ὡς 
+ἐχειρώθησαν ὑπὸ Περσέων, εἵποντο τῷ ἄλλῳ 
+στρατῷ. Δαρεῖος δὲ ὡς ἀπίκετο καὶ ὁ πεζὸς ἅμ᾽ 
+αὐτῷ στρατὸς ἐπὶ τὸν Ἴστρον, ἐνθαῦτα διαβάντων 
+πάντων Δαρεῖος ἐκέλευσε τούς τε Ἴωνας τὴν 
+σχεδίην λύσαντας ἕπεσθαι, κατ ἤπειρον ἑωυτῷ 
+καὶ τὸν ἐκ τῶν νεῶν στρατόν. μελλόντων δὲ τῶν 
+Ἰώνων λύειν καὶ ποιέειν τὰ κελευόμενα, Κώης ὁ 
+᾿Ερξάνδρου στρατηγὸς ἐὼν Μυτιληναίων ἔλεξε 
+Δαρείῳ τάδε, πυθόμενος πρότερον εἴ οἱ φίλον εἴη 
+γνώμην ἀποδέκεσθαι παρὰ τοῦ βουλομένου, ἀπο- 
+δείκνυσθαι. “COQ βασιλεῦ, ἐπὶ γῆν γὰρ μέλλεις 
+στρατεύεσθαι τῆς οὔτε ἀρηρομένον φανήσεται 
+οὐδὲν οὔτε πόλις .οἰκεομένη: σύ νυν γέφυραν ταύ- 
+την ἔα κατὰ χώρην ἑστάναι, φυλάκους αὐτῆς 
+λιπὼν τούτους οἵπερ μιν ἔξευξαν. καὶ ἤν τε κατὰ 
+νόον πρήξωμεν εὑρόντες Σκύθας, ἔ ἔστι ἄποδος ἡ ἡμῖν, 
+ἤν τε καὶ μή, σφεας εὑρεῖν δυνώμεθα, 1j ἥ γε ἄποδος 
+ἡμῖν ἀσφαλής" οὐ γὰρ ἔδεισά κω μὴ ἑσσωθέωμεν 
+ὑπὸ Σκυθέων μάχῃ, ἀλλὰ μᾶλλον μη ov δυνά- 
+μενοι σφέας εὑρεῖν πάθωμὲν τι ἀλώμενοι. καὶ 
+τάδε λέγειν φαίη τις ἄν µε ἐμεωυτοῦ εἵνεκεν, ὡς 
+καταμένω". ἐγὼ δὲ γνώμην μὲν τὴν εὕρισκον ἀρί- 
+στην σοί, βασιλεῦ, ἐς μέσον φέρω, αὐτὸς μέντοι 
+ἕψομαί τοι καὶ οὐκ ἂν λειφθείην." κάρτα τε 
+ἥσθη τῇ γνώμῃ Δαρεῖος καί μιν ἀμείψατο τοῖσιδε. 
+" Ἐεῖνε Λέσβιε, σωθέντος ἐ ἐμεῦ ὀπίσω ἐς οἶκον τὸν 
+ἐμὸν ἐπιφάνηθί μοι πάντως, ἵνα σε ἀντὶ χρηστῆς 
+συμβουλίης χρηστοῖσι ἔργοισι ἀμείψωμαι." 
+
+98. Ταῦτα δὲ εἴπας καὶ ἀπάψας ἅμματα ἑξή- 
+
+
+208 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 96-98 
+
+
+Salmoxis, or this be à name among the Getae for a 
+god of their country, I have done with him. 
+
+97. Such were the ways of the Getae, who were 
+now subdued by the Persians and followed their 
+army. When Darius and the land army with him 
+had come to the Ister, and all had crossed, he 
+bade the Ionians break the bridge and follow him 
+and the men of the fleet in their march across 
+the mainland. So the Ionians were preparing 
+to break the bridge and do Darius behest ; 
+but Cóes son of Erxander, the general of the 
+Mytilenaeans, having first enquired if Darius were 
+willing to receive counsel from any man desiring to 
+give it, said, “Seeing, O king! that you are about to 
+march against a country where you will find neither 
+tilled lands nor inhabited cities, do you now suffer 
+this bridge to stand where it is, leaving those who 
+made it tobe its guards. Thus, if we find the 
+Scythians and accomplish our will, we have a way of 
+return; and even if we find them not, yet at least 
+our way back is safe; for my fear has never yet 
+been lest we be overcome by the Scythians in the 
+field, but rather lest we should not be able to find 
+them, and so wander astray to our hurt. Now 
+perchance it may be said that I speak thus for my 
+own sake, because I desire to remain behind; but it 
+is not so; I do but declare before all that counsel 
+which I judge best, and for myself would not be left 
+here but will follow you." With this counsel Darius 
+was greatly pleased, and he answered Cées thus ; 
+* My good Lesbian, fail not to show yourself to me 
+when I return safe to my house, that so I may make 
+you a good return for your good advice." 
+
+98. Having thus spoken, he tied sixty knots in a 
+
+
+299 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+κοντα ἐν ἱμάντι, καλέσας ἐς λόγους τοὺς Ἰώνων 
+τυράννους ἔλεγε τάδε. “Ανδρες Ἴωνες, ἡ μὲν 
+πρότερον γνώμη ἀποδεχθεῖσα ἐς τὴν γέφυραν 
+μετείσθω μοι, ἔχοντες δὲ τὸν ἱμάντα τόνδε ποιέετε 
+τάδε: ἐπεὰν ἐμὲ ἴδητε τάχιστα πορευόμενον ἐπὶ 
+Σκύθας, ἆ ἀπὸ τούτου ἀρξάμενοι τοῦ χρόνου λύετε 
+ἅμμα ἓν ἑκάστης ἡμέρης" ἣν δὲ ἐν τούτῳ τῷ 
+χρόνῳ μὴ παρέω ἀλλὰ διεξέλύωσι Ú ὑμῖν αἱ ἡμέραι 
+τῶν ἁμμάτων, ἀποπλέετε és τὴν ὑμετέρην αὐτῶν. 
+μέχρι δὲ τούτου, ἐπείτε οὕτω μετέδοξε, φυλάσ- 
+σετε τὴν σχεδίην, πᾶσαν προθυμίην σωτηρίης τε 
+καὶ φυλακῆς παρεχόμενοι. ταῦτα δὲ ποιεῦντες 
+ἐμοὶ μεγάλως χαριεῖσθε."” Δαρεῖος μὲν ταῦτα 
+εἴπας ἐς τὸ πρόσω ἐπείγετο. 
+
+99. Τῆς δὲ Σκυθικῆς γῆς ἡ Θρηίκη τὸ ἐς θά- 
+λασσαν πρόκειται’ κόλπου δὲ ἀγομένου τῆς γῆς 
+ταύτης, ἡ Σκυθική τε ἐκδέκεται καὶ ὁ Ἴστρος 
+ἐκδιδοῖ ἐς αὐτήν, πρὸς εὗρον ἄνεμον τὸ στόμα 
+τετραμμένος. τὸ δὲ ἀπὸ Ἴστρου ἔρχομαι onpa- 
+νέων τὸ πρὸς θάλασσαν αὐτῆς τῆς Σκυθικῆς 
+χώρης ἐς μέτρησιν. ἀπὸ Ἴστρου αὕτη ἤδη ý 
+ἀρχαίη Σκυθίη ἐστί, πρὸς μεσαμβρίην τε καὶ 
+νότον ἄνεμον κειμένη, μέχρι πόλιος Καρκινίτιδος 
+καλεομένης. τὸ δὲ ἀπὸ ταύτης τὴν μὲν ἐπὶ θά- 
+λασσαν τὴν αὐτὴν φέρουσαν, ἐοῦσαν ὀρεινήν τε 
+χώρην καὶ προκειμένην τὸ ἐς Πόντον, νέμεται τὸ 
+Ταυρικὸν ἔθνος μέχρι χερσονήσου τῆς τρηχέης 
+καλεομένης" αὕτη δὲ ἐ ἐς θάλασσαν τὴν πρὸς ἀπη- 
+λιώτην ἄνεμον κατήκει. ἔστι γὰρ τῆς Σκυθικῆς 
+τὰ δύο μέρεα τῶν οὔρων ἐς θάλασσαν φέροντα, 
+τήν τε πρὸς μεσαμβρίην καὶ τὴν πρὸς τὴν ἠῶ, 
+κατά περ τῆς ᾿Αττικῆς χώρης" καὶ παραπλήσια 
+300 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 98-99 
+
+
+thong, and calling the despots of the Ionians to 
+an audience he said to them: ** lonians, I renounce 
+the opinion which I before declared concerning the 
+bridge ; do you now take this thong and do as I 
+command you. Begin to reckon from the day when 
+you shall see me march away against the Scythians, 
+and loose one knot each day : and if the days marked 
+by the knots have all passed and I have not returned 
+ere then, take ship for your own homes. But till 
+then, seeing that my counsel is thus changed, I bid 
+you guard the bridge, using all zeal to save and 
+defend it. This do, and you will render me a most 
+acceptable service." Having thus spoken, Darius 
+made haste to march further. 
+
+99. Thrace runs farther out into the sea than 
+Scythia; and where a bay is formed in its coast, 
+Scythia begins, and the mouth of the Ister, which 
+faces to the south-east, is in that country. Now I 
+will describe the coast of the true Scythia from the 
+Ister, and give its measurements. At the Ister 
+begins the ancient Scythian land, which lies facing 
+thé south and the south wind, as far as the city 
+called Carcinitis. Beyond this place, the country 
+fronting the same sea is hilly and projects into the 
+Pontus; it is inhabited by the Tauric nation as far 
+as what is called the Rough Peninsula ; and this ends 
+in the eastern sea.! For the sea to the south and the | 
+sea to the east are two of the four boundary lines of 
+Scythia, even asthe seas are boundaries of Attica ; and 
+
+
+1 Here = the Sea of Azov. 
+301 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ταύτῃ καὶ οἱ Ταῦροι νέμονται τῆς Σκυθικῆς, ὡς 
+εἰ τῆς ᾿Αττικῆς ἄλλο ἔθνος καὶ μὴ ᾿Αθηναῖοι 
+νεμοίατο τὸν γουνὸν τὸν Σουνιακόν, μᾶλλον ἐς τὸν 
+πόντον τὴν ἄκρην 1 ἀνέχοντα, τὸν ἀπὸ Θορικοῦ 
+μέχρι ᾿Αναφλύστου δήμου' λέγω δὲ ὡς εἶναι ταῦ- 
+τα σμικρὰ μεγάλοισι συμβάλλειν: τοιοῦτον: ἡ 
+Ταυρική ἐστι. ὃς δὲ τῆς ᾿Αττικῆς ταῦτα μὴ 
+παραπέπλωκε, ἐγὼ δὲ ἄλλως δηλώσω: ὡς εἰ τῆς 
+Ἰηπυγίης ἄλλο ἔθνος καὶ μὴ Ἰήπυγες ἀρξάμενοι 
+ἐκ Βρεντεσίου λιμένος ἀποταμοίατο μέχρι Τά- 
+pavros καὶ νεμοίατο τὴν -ἄκρην. δύο δὲ λέγων 
+ταῦτα πολλὰ λέγω παρόμοια, τοῖσι ἄλλοισι ἔοικε 
+ἡ Γαυρική. 
+
+100. Τὸ & ἀπὸ τῆς Ταυρικῆς ἤδη Σκύθαι τὰ 
+κατύπερθε τῶν Ταύρων καὶ τὰ πρὸς θαλάσσης 
+τῆς ἠοίης νέμονται, τοῦ τε Βοσπόρου τοῦ Kip- 
+μερίου τὰ πρὸς ἑσπέρης καὶ τῆς λίμνης τῆς Μαιή- 
+τιδος μέχρι Τανάιδος ποταμοῦ, ὃς ἐκδιδοῖ ἐς μυχὸν 
+τῆς λίμνης ταύτης. ἤδη wv ἀπὸ μὲν Ἴστρου τὰ 
+κατύπερθε ἐς τὴν μεσόγαιαν φέροντα ἀποκληίεται 
+ἡ Σκυθικὴ ὑπὸ πρώτων ᾿Αγαθύρσων, μετὰ δὲ 
+Νευρῶν, ἔπειτα δὲ ᾿Ανδροφάγων, τελευταίων δὲ 
+Μελαγχλαίνων. 
+
+101. "Ἔστι ὧν τῆς Σκυθικῆς ὡς ἐούσης τετρα- 
+γώνου, τῶν δύο μερέων κατηκόντων ἐς θάλασσαν, 
+πάντῃ ἴσον τό τε ἐς τὴν μεσόγαιαν φέρον καὶ τὸ 
+παρὰ τὴν θάλασσαν. ἀπὸ γὰρ Ἴστρου ἐπὶ Βορυ- 
+
+1 τὴν ἄκρην is bracketed by Stein, ἀνέχειν being generally 
+(in the required sense) intransitive. 
+
+302 | 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 99-1or 
+
+
+the Tauri dwelling as they do in a part of Scythia 
+which is like Attica, it is as though some other people, 
+not Attic, were to inhabit the heights of Sunium from 
+Thoricus to the township of Anaphlystus, did Sunium 
+but jut farther out into the sea. 1 say this in so far 
+as one may compare small things with great. Such 
+a land is the Tauric country. But those who have 
+not coasted along that part of Attica may understand 
+from this other way of showing: it is as though in 
+Iapygia some other people, not lapygian, were to 
+dwell on the promontory within a line drawn from 
+the harbour of Brentesium to Taras. Of these two 
+countries I speak, but there are many others of a 
+like kind which Tauris resembles.! 
+
+100. Beyond the Tauric country the Scythians 
+begin, dwelling north of the Tauri and beside the 
+eastern sea, westward of the Cimmerian Bosporus 
+and the Maeetian lake, as far as the river Tanais, 
+which issues into the end of that lake. Now it has: 
+been seen that on its northern and inland side, which 
+runs from the Ister, Scythia is bounded first by the 
+Agathyrsi, next by the Neuri, next by the Man-eaters, 
+and last by the Black-cloaks. 
+
+101. Scythia, then, being a four-sided country, 
+whereof two sides are sea-board, the frontiers run- 
+ning inland and those that are by the sea make it a 
+perfect square; for it is a ten days' journey from the 
+
+
+1 All this is no more than to say that the Tauri live on a 
+promontory (the Tauric Chersonese), which is like the south- 
+eastern promontory of Attica (Sunium) or the ** heel” of 
+Italy, i.e. the country east of a line drawn between the 
+modern Brindisi and Taranto. The only difference is, says 
+Herodotus, that the Tauri inhabit à part of Scythia yet are 
+not Scythians, while the inhabitants of the Attic and Italian 
+promontories are of the same stock as their neighbours. 
+
+
+393 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+σθένεα δέκα ἡμερέων ὁδός, ἀπὸ Βορυσθένεός τε 
+ἐπὶ τὴν λίμνην τὴν Μαιῆτιν ἑτερέων δέκα' καὶ 
+τὸ ἀπὸ θαλάσσης ἐς μεσόγαιαν ἐς τοὺς Μελαγ- 
+χλαίνους τοὺς κατύπερθε Σκυθέων οἰκημένους 
+εἴκοσι ἡμερέων ὁδὸς. ἡ δὲ ὁδὸς ἡ ἡμερησίη ἀνὰ 
+διηκόσια στάδια συμβέβληταί μοι. οὕτω ἂν 
+εἴη τῆς Σκυθικῆς τὰ ἐπικάρσια τετρακισχιλίων 
+σταδίων καὶ τὰ ὄρθια τὰ ἐς τὴν μεσόγαιαν φέ- 
+povra, ἑτέρων τοσούτων σταδίων. ἡ μέν νυν γῆ 
+us ἐστὶ μέγαθος τοσαύτη. 
+
+. Οἱ δὲ Σκύθαι δόντες σφίσι λόγον ὡς οὐκ 
+οἷοί τ τε εἰσὶ τὸν Δαρείου στρατὸν ἰθυμαχίῃ͵ διώ- 
+σασθαι μοῦνοι, ἔπεμπον ἐς τοὺς πλησιοχώρους 
+ἀγγέλους" τῶν δὲ καὶ δὴ οἱ βασιλέες συνελθὀντες 
+ἐβουλεύοντο ὡς στρατοῦ ἐπελαύνοντος μεγάλου. 
+ἦσαν δὲ οἱ συνελθόντες βασιλέες Ταύρων καὶ 
+᾽Αγαθύρσων καὶ Νευρῶν καὶ ᾿Ανδροφάγων καὶ 
+᾿ Μελαγχλαίνων καὶ 1 ελωνῶν καὶ Βουδίνων καὶ 
+Σαυροματέων. 
+
+105, Τούτων Ταῦροι μὲν νόμοισι. τοιοῖσιδε 
+χρέωνται" θύουσι μὲν τῇ Παρθένῳ τούς τε ναυη- 
+γοὺς καὶ τοὺς ἂν λάβωσι Ἑλλήνων ἐπαναχθέντες 
+τρόπῳ τοιῷδε ο... ῥοπάλῳ. παίουσι τὴν 
+κεφαλήν. οἳ μεν λέγουσι ὡς τὸ σῶμα ἀπὸ 
+τοῦ κρημνοῦ ἀθέουσι κάτω (ἐπὶ γὰρ κρημνοῦ 
+ἵδρυται τὸ ἱρόν), τὴν δὲ κεφαλὴν ἀνασταυροῦσι" 
+ob δὲ κατὰ μὲν τὴν κεφαλὴν. ὁμολογέουσι, τὸ 
+μέντοι σῶμα οὐκ ὠθέεσθαι ἀπὸ τοῦ κρημνοῦ λέ- 
+γουσι ἀλλὰ γῆ κρύπτεσθαι. τὴν δὲ δαίμονα ταύ- 
+την τῇ θύουσι λέγουσι αὐτοὶ Ταῦροι Ἰφιγένειαν 
+τὴν ᾿Αγαμέμνονος εἶναι. πολεμίους δὲ ἄνδρας τοὺς 
+ἂν χειρώσωνται ποιεῦσι τάδε: ἀποταμὼν ἕκα- 
+
+
+394 
+
+
+BOOK 1V. 101-103 
+
+
+Ister to the Borysthenes, and the same from the 
+Borysthenes to the Maeetian lake ; and it is a twenty 
+days' journey from the sea inland to the country of 
+the Black-cloaks who dwell north of Scythia. Now 
+as I reckon a day's journey at two hundred furlongs, 
+the cross-measurement of Scythia would be a distance 
+of four thousand furlongs, and the line drawn straight 
+up inland the same. Such then is the extent of this 
+land. 
+
+102. The Scythians, reckoning that they were 
+not able by themselves to repel Darius army in 
+open warfare, sent messengers to their neighbours, 
+whose kings had already met and were taking 
+counsel, as knowing that a great army was march- 
+ing against them. Those that had so met were 
+the kings of the Tauri, Agathyrsi, Neuri, Man- 
+eaters, Black-cloaks, Geloni, Budini, and Sauro- 
+matae. 
+
+103. Among these, the Tauri have the following 
+customs: all ship-wrecked men, and any Greeks 
+whom they take in their sea-raiding, they sacrifice 
+to the Virgin goddess! as 1 will show : after the first 
+rites of sacrifice, they smite the victim on the head 
+with a club; according to some, they then throw 
+down the body from the cliff whereon their temple 
+stands, and impale the head; others agree with this 
+as to the head, but say that the body is buried, not 
+thrown down from the cliff. This deity to whom 
+they sacrifice is said by the Tauri themselves to be 
+Agamemnon's daughter Iphigenia. As for the 
+enemies whom they overcome, each man cuts off 
+
+
+! A deity locally worshipped, identified by the Greeks 
+with Artemis. 
+
+
+395 
+VOL. 1I. X 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+a Tos ! κεφαλὴν ἀποφέρεται és τὰ οἰκία, ἔπειτα ἐπὶ 
+ξύλου μεγάλου ἀναπείρας ἱστᾷ ὑπὲρ τῆς οἰκίης 
+ὑπερέχουσαν πολλόν, μάλιστα δὲ ὑπὲρ τῆς καπνο- 
+δόκης. φασὶ δὲ τούτους φυλάκους τῆς οἰκίης 
+πάσης ὑπεραιωρέεσθαι. ζῶσι δὲ ἀπὸ ληίης τε 
+καὶ πολέμου. 
+
+104. ᾿Αγάθυρσοι δὲ ἁβρότατοι ἀνδρῶν εἰσι καὶ 
+χρυσοφόροι τὰ μάλιστα, ἐπίκοινον δὲ τῶν yuvar- 
+κῶν τὴν μῖξιν ποιεῦνται, ἵνα κασίγνητοί τε ἀλλή- 
+λων ἔωσι καὶ οἰκήιοι ἐόντες πάντες μήτε φθόνῳ 
+
+’ y ο. , ? , 4 » 
+μήτε ἔχθεῖ χρέωνται ἐς ἀλλήλους. τὰ δὲ ἄλλα 
+νόμαια Θρήιξι προσκεχωρήκασι. 
+
+105. Νευροὶ δὲ νόμοισι μὲν χρέωνται Σκυθι- 
+κοῖσι, γενεῇ δὲ μιῇ πρότερον σφέας τῆς Δαρείου 
+στρατηλασίης κατέλαβε ἐκλιπεῖν τὴν χώρην πᾶ- 
+σαν ὑπὸ ὀφίων: ὄφιας γάρ σφι πολλοὺς μὲν ἡ 
+χώρη ἀνέφαινε, οἱ δὲ πλεῦνες ἄνωθέν σφι ἐκ τῶν 
+ἐρήμων ἐπέπεσον, ἐς ὃ πιεξόμενοι οἴκησαν μετὰ 
+Βουδίνων τὴν ἑωυτῶν ἐκλιπόντες. κινδυνεύουσι 
+δὲ οἱ ἄνθρωποι οὗτοι γόητες εἶναι. λέγονται γὰρ 
+ὑπὸ Σκυθέων καὶ Ελλήνων τῶν ἐν τῇ Σκυθικῇ 
+κατοικημένων ὡς ἔτεος ἑκάστου ἅπαξ τῶν Νευρῶν 
+ἕκαστος λύκος γίνεται ἡμέρας ὀλίγας καὶ αὖτις 
+ὀπίσω ἐς τὠυτὸ κατίσταται. ἐμὲ μέν νυν ταῦτα 
+λέγοντες οὐ πείθουσι, λέγουσι δὲ οὐδὲν ἧσσον, καὶ 
+ὀμνῦσι δὲ λέγοντες. 
+
+106. ᾿Ανδροφάγοι δὲ ἀγριώτατα πάντων av- 
+θρώπων ἔχουσι ἤθεα, οὔτε δίκην νομίξοντες οὔτε 
+νόμῳ οὐδενὶ χρεώμενοι νομάδες δὲ εἰσί, ἐσθῆτά 
+τε φορέουσι τῇ Σκυθικῇ ὁμοίην, γλῶσσαν δὲ ἰδίην, 
+ἀνδροφαγέουσι δὲ μοῦνοι τούτων. 
+
+1 [ἕκαστος] Stein. 
+
+
+306 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 103-106 
+
+
+his enemy's head and carries it away to his house, 
+where he impales it on a tall pole and sets it standing 
+high above the dwelling, above the smoke-vent for 
+the most part. These heads, they say, are set aloft 
+to guard the whole house. The Tauri live by 
+plundering and war. 
+
+104. The Agathyrsi live more delicately than all 
+other men, and are greatly given to wearing gold. 
+Their intercourse with women is promiscuous, that 
+so they may be brothers and kinsfolk to each other 
+and thus neither envy nor hate their fellows. In 
+the rest of their customs they are like to the 
+Thracians. 
+
+105. The Neuri follow Scythian usages; but one 
+generation before the coming of Darius' army it fell 
+out that they were driven from their country by 
+snakes ; for their land brought forth great numbers of 
+these, and yet more came down upon them out of 
+the desert, till at last the Neuri were so hard pressed 
+that they left their own country and dwelt among 
+the Budini. It may be that they are wizards; for 
+the Scythians, and the Greeks settled in Scythia, 
+say that once a year every one of the Neuri is turned 
+into a wolf, and after remaining so for a few days 
+returns again to his former shape. For myself, I 
+cannot believe this tale; but they tell it nevertheless, 
+yea, and swear to its truth. 
+
+106. The Maireaters are of all men the most 
+savage in their manner of life; they know no justice 
+and obey no law. They are nomads, wearing a dress 
+like the Scythian, but speaking a language of their 
+own; they are the only people of all these that eat 
+men. 
+
+
+307 
+x 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+107. Μελάγχλαινοι δὲ εἵματα μὲν μέλανα 
+φορέουσι πάντες, éT ὧν καὶ τὰς ἐπωνυμίας 
+ἔχουσι, νόμοισι δὲ Σκυθικοῖσι χρέωνται. 
+
+108. Βουδῖνοι δὲ ἔθνος ἐὸν μέγα καὶ πολλὸν 
+γλαυκόν τε πᾶν ἰσχυρῶς ἐστι καὶ πυρρόν. πόλις 
+δὲ ἐν αὐτοῖσι πεπόλισται ξυλίνη, οὔνομα δὲ τῇ 
+πόλι ἐστὶ Γελωνός" τοῦ δὲ τείχεος μέγαθος κῶλον 
+ἕκαστον τριήκοντα. σταδίων ἐστί, ὑψηλὸν δὲ καὶ 
+πᾶν ξύλινον, καὶ αἱ οἰκίαι αὐτῶν ξύλιναι καὶ τὰ 
+ἱρά. ἔστι γὰρ δὴ αὐτόθι Ἑλληνικῶν θεῶν í ἱρὰ 
+“Ελληνικῶς κατεσκευασμένα ἀγάλμασί τε καὶ 
+βωμοῖσι καὶ νηοῖσι ξυλίνοισι, καὶ τῷ Διονύσφ 
+τριετηρίδας ἀνάγουσι καὶ βακχεύουσι. εἰσὶ γὰρ 
+οἱ Γελωνοὶ τὸ ἀρχαῖον “Ελληνες, ἐκ τῶν δὲ ἐμ- 
+πορίων ἐξαναστάντες οἴκησαν ἐν τοῖσι Βουδίνοισι' 
+καὶ γλώσσῃ τὰ μὲν Σκυθικῇ τὰ δὲ Ἑλληνικῇ 
+χρέωνται. Βουδῖνοι δὲ οὐ τῇ αὐτῇ γλώσσῃ χρέ- 
+ωνται καὶ Γελωνοί, οὐδὲ δίαιτα ἡ 5 αὐτή. 
+
+109. Οἱ μὲν γὰρ Βουδῖνοι ἐόντες αὐτόχθονες 
+νομάδες τε εἰσὶ καὶ -φθειροτραγέουσι μοῦνοι τῶν 
+ταύτῃ, Γελωνοὶ δὲ γῆς Te ἐργάται καὶ .σιτοφάγοι 
+καὶ κήπους ἐκτημένοι, οὐδὲν τὴν ἰδέην ὅ ὅμοιοι οὐδὲ 
+τὸ χρῶμα. ὑπὸ μέντοι Ἑλλήνων καλέονται καὶ 
+οἱ Βουδῖνοι l'ekovoí, οὐκ ὀρθῶς καλεόμενοι. 5 δὲ 
+χώρη σφέων πᾶσα ἐστὶ δασέα ἴδῃσι παντοίῃσι: 
+ἐν δὲ τῇ ἴδῃ τῇ πλείστῃ ἐστὶ λίμνη μεγάλη τε καὶ 
+πολλὴ καὶ ἕλος καὶ κάλαμος περὶ αὐτήν. ἐν δὲ 
+ταύτῃ ἐνύδριες ἁλίσκονται καὶ κάστορες καὶ ἄλλα 
+θ ηρία τετραγωνοπρόσωπα, τῶν τὰ δέρματα παρὰ 
+τὰς σισύρνας παραρράπτεται, καὶ οἱ ὄρχιες av- 
+τοῖσι εἰσὶ χρήσιμοι ἐς ὑστερέων ἄκεσιν. 
+
+110. Σαυροματέων δὲ πέρι ὧδε λέγεται. ὅτε 
+
+
+308 
+
+
+BOOK ΤΝ. 107-110 
+
+
+107. The Black-cloaks all wear black raiment, 
+whence they take their name; their usages are 
+Scythian. 
+
+108. The Budini are a great and numerous 
+nation ; the eyes of all of them are very bright, and 
+they are ruddy. They have a city built of wood, 
+called Gelonus. The wall of it is thirty furlongs in 
+length on each side of the city; this wall is high 
+and all of wood ; and their houses are wooden, and 
+their temples; for there are among them temples 
+of Greek gods, furnished in Greek fashion with 
+images and altars and shrines; and they honour 
+Dionysus every three years with festivals and 
+revels. For the Geloni are by their origin Greeks, 
+who left their trading ports to settle among the 
+Budini; and they speak a language half Greek and 
+half Scythian. But the Budini speak not the same 
+language as the Geloni, nor is their manner of 
+life the same. 
+
+109. The Budini are native to the soil; they are 
+nomads, and the only people in these parts that eat 
+fir-cones; the Geloni are tillers of the soil, eating 
+grain and possessing gardens ; they are wholly unlike 
+the Budini in form and in complexion. Yet the 
+Greeks cal the Budini too Geloni; but this is 
+wrong. All their country is thickly wooded with 
+every kind of tree; in the depth of the forests there 
+is a great and wide lake and marsh surrounded by 
+reeds; otters are caught in it, and beavers, besides 
+certain square-faced creatures whose skins serve for 
+the trimming of mantles, and their testicles are used 
+by the people to heal hysteric sicknesses. 
+
+110. The history of the Sauromatae is as I will 
+
+
+399 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+"Ελληνες ᾿Αμαξόσι ἐμαχέσαντο (τὰς δὲ ᾽Αμαξζόνας 
+καλέουσι Σκύθαι Οἰόρπατα, δύναται δὲ τὸ οὔνομα 
+τοῦτο κατὰ Ἑλλάδα γλῶσσαν ἀνδροκτόνοι οἱὸρ 
+γὰρ καλέουσι ἄνδρα, τὸ δὲ mata κτείνειν), τότε 
+λόγος τοὺς "Ελληνας νικήσαντας τῇ ἐπὶ Θερμώ- 
+δοντι μάχῃ ἀποπλέειν ἄγοντας τρισὶ πλοίοισι 
+τῶν ᾿Αμαζόνων ὅσας ἐδυνέατο ζωγρῆσαι, τὰς ὃ 
+ἐν τῷ πελάγεϊ ἐπιθεμένας ἐκκόψαι τοὺς ἄνδρας. 
+πλοῖα δὲ οὐ γινώσκειν αὐτὰς οὐδὲ πηδαλίοισι 
+χρᾶσθαι οὐδὲ ἱστίοισι οὐδὲ εἰρεσίῃ' ἀλλ᾽ ἐπεὶ 
+ἐξέκοψαν τοὺς ἄνδρας ἐφέροντο κατὰ κῦμα καὶ 
+ἄνεμον, καὶ ἀπικνέονται τῆς λίμνης τῆς Μαιήτιδος 
+ἐπὶ Κρημνούς' οἱ δὲ Κρημνοὶ εἰσὶ γῆς τῆς Σκυ- 
+θέων τῶν ἐλευθέρων. ἐνθαῦτα ἀποβᾶσαι ἀπὸ 
+τῶν πλοίων αἱ ᾽Αμαζόνες ὁδοιπόρεον ἐς τὴν ol- 
+κεομένην. . ἐντυχοῦσαι δὲ πρώτῳ ἱπποφορβθίῳ 
+τοῦτο διήρπασαν, καὶ ἐπὶ τούτων ἱππαξόμεναι 
+ἐληίξοντο τὰ τῶν Σκυθέων. 
+
+111. Οἱ δὲ Σκύθαι οὐκ εἶχον συμβαλέσθαι τὸ 
+πρῆγμα' οὔτε γὰρ φωνὴν οὔτε ἐσθῆτα οὔτε τὸ 
+ἔθνος ἐγίνωσκον, ἀλλ᾽ ἐν θώματι ἦσαν ὁκόθεν 
+ἔλθοιεν, ἐδόκεον δ᾽ αὐτὰς εἶναι ἄνδρας τὴν αὐτὴν 
+ἡλικίην ἔχοντας, μάχην τε δὴ πρὸς αὐτὰς ἐποι- 
+εὔντο. ἐκ δὲ τῆς μάχης τῶν νεκρῶν ἐκράτησαν οἱ 
+Σκύθαι, καὶ οὕτω ἔγνωσαν ἐούσας γυναῖκας. βου- 
+λευομένοισι ὧν αὐτοῖσι ἔδοξε κτείνειν μὲν οὐδενὶ 
+τρόπῳ ἔτι αὐτάς, ἑωυτῶν δὲ τοὺς νεωτάτους amo- 
+πέμψαι ἐς αὐτάς, πλῆθος εἰκάσαντας ὅσαι περ 
+ἐκεῖναι ἦσαν, τούτους δὲ στρατοπεδεύεσθαι TAN- 
+σίον ἐκεινέων καὶ ποιέειν τά περ ἂν καὶ ἐκεῖναι 
+ποιέωσι' ἣν δὲ αὐτοὺς διώκωσι, μάχεσθαι μὲν μή, 
+ὑποφεύγειν δέ: ἐπεὰν δὲ παύσωνται, ἐλθόντας 
+310 
+
+
+BOOK IV. r1o-111 
+
+
+now show. When the Greeks warred with the 
+Amazons (whom the Scythians call Oiorpata, a name 
+signifying in our tongue killers of men, for in 
+Scythian a man is otor, and to kill is pata) after their 
+victory on the Thermodon they sailed away carrying 
+in three ships as many Amazons as they had been 
+able to take alive; and out at sea the Amazons set 
+upon the crews and threw them overboard. But they 
+knew nothing of ships, nor how to use rudder or sail 
+or oar; and the men being thrown overboard they 
+were borne at the mercy of waves and winds, till 
+they came to the Cliffs by the Maeetian lake; this 
+place is in the country of the free Scythians. There 
+the Amazons landed, and set forth on their journey 
+to the inhabited country. But at the beginning of 
+their journey they found a place where horses were 
+reared; and carrying these horses away they raided 
+the Scythian lands on horseback. 
+
+111. The Scythians could not understand the 
+matter ; for they knew not the women's speech nor 
+their dress nor their nation, but wondered whence 
+they had come, and supposed them to be men all of 
+the same age; and they met the Amazons in battle. 
+The end of the fight was, that the Scythians got 
+possession of the dead, and so came to know that 
+their foes were women. Wherefore taking counsel 
+they resolved by no means to slay them as here- 
+tofore, but to send to them their youngest men, 
+of a number answering (as they guessed) to the 
+number of the women. They bade these youths 
+encamp near to the Amazons and to imitate all that 
+they did; if the women pursued them, then not to 
+fight, but to flee; and when the pursuit ceased, to 
+
+
+311 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+αὖτις πλησίον στρατοπεδεύεσθαι. ταῦτα ἐβου- 
+λεύσαντο οἱ Σκύθαι βουλόμενοι ἐξ αὐτέων παῖδας 
+ἐκγενήσεσθαι. ἀποπεμφθέντες δὲ οἱ νεηνίσκοι 
+ἐποίευν τὰ ἐντεταλμένα. 
+
+119. ᾿Επεὶ δὲ ἔμαθον αὐτοὺς αἱ ᾿Αμαξόνες ἐπ᾽ 
+οὐδεμιῇ δηλήσι ἀπιγμένους, ἔων χαίρειν" προσε- 
+χώρεον δὲ πλησιαιτέρω τὸ στρατόπεδον τῷ 
+στρατοπέδῳ. ἐπ᾽ ἡμέρῃ ἑκάστῃ. εἶχον δὲ οὐδὲν 
+οὐδ᾽ οἱ νεηνίσκοι, ὥσπερ αἱ ᾿Αμαξόνες, εἰ μὴ τὰ 
+ὅπλα καὶ τοὺς ἵππους, ἀλλὰ conv ἔζωον τὴν αὖ- 
+τὴν ἐκείνῃσι, θηρεύοντές τε καὶ Ἀηιξόμενοι. 
+
+119. Ἐποίευν δὲ αἱ ᾿Αμαξόνες ἐς τὴν μεσαμ- 
+βρίην τοιόνδε" ἐγίνοντο σποράδες κατὰ μίαν τε 
+καὶ δύο, πρόσω δὴ at’ ἀλληλέων ἐς εὐμαρείην 
+ἀποσκιδνάμεναι. μαθόντες δὲ καὶ οἱ Σκύθαι 
+ἐποίευν τὠυτὸ τοῦτο. καί τις μουνωθεισέων τινὶ 
+αὐτέων ἐνεχρίμπτετο, καὶ ἡ ᾽Αμαξὼν | οὐκ ἆπω- 
+θέετο ἀλλὰ περιεῖδε χρήσασθαι. καὶ φωνῆσαι 
+μὲν οὐκ εἶχε, οὐ γὰρ. συνίεσαν ἀλλήλων, TH δὲ 
+χειρὶ ἔφραξε ἐς τὴν ὑστεραίην ἐλθεῖν ἐς τωὐτὸ 
+χωρίον καὶ ἕτερον ἄγειν, σημαίνουσα δύο γενέσθαι, 
+καὶ αὐτὴ ἑτέρην ἄξειν. ὁ δὲ νεηνίσκος, ἐπεὶ 
+ἀπῆλθε, ἔλεξε ταῦτα πρὸς τοὺς λοιπούς" τῇ δὲ 
+δευτεραίῃ ἦλθε ἐς τὸ χωρίον αὐτός τε οὗτος καὶ 
+ἕτερον ἦγε, καὶ τὴν ᾿Αμαξόνα εὗρε δευτέρην αὐτὴν 
+ὑπομένουσαν. οἱ δὲ λοιποὶ νεηνίσκοι ὡς ἐπύθοντο 
+ταῦτα, καὶ αὐτοὶ ἐκτιλώσαντο τὰς λοιπὰς τῶν 
+᾽Αμαζόνων. 
+
+114. Μετὰ δὲ συμμίξαντες τὰ στρατόπεδα 
+οἴκεον ὁμοῦ, γυναῖκα ἔχων ἕκαστος ταύτην. τῇ τὸ 
+πρῶτον συνεμίχθη. τὴν δὲ φωνὴν τὴν μὲν τῶν 
+γυναικῶν οἱ ἄνδρες οὐκ ἐδυνέατο μαθεῖν, τὴν δὲ 
+312 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 111-114 
+
+
+come and encampneartothem. This was the plan of 
+the Scythians, for they desired that children should 
+be born of the women. The young men, being sent, 
+did as they were charged. 
+
+112. When the Amazons perceived that the youths 
+meant them no harm, they let them be; but every 
+day the two camps drew nearer to each other. Now 
+the young men, like the Amazons, had nothing but 
+their arms and their horses, and lived as did the 
+women, by hunting and plunder. 
+
+113. At midday the Amazons would scatter and go 
+singly or in pairs away from each other, roaming thus 
+apart for greater comfort. The Scythians marked 
+this and did likewise; and as the women wandered 
+alone, a young man laid hold of one of them, and the 
+woman made no resistance but suffered him to do 
+his will ; and since they understood not each other’s 
+speech and she could not speak to him, she signed 
+with the hand that he should come on the next day 
+to the same place bringing another youth with him 
+(showing by signs that there should be two), and she 
+would bring another woman with her. The youth 
+went away and told his comrades ; and the next day 
+he came himself with another to the place, where he 
+found the Amazon and another with her awaiting 
+him. When the rest of the young men learnt of this, 
+they had intercourse with the rest of the Amazons. 
+
+114. Presently they joined their camps and dwelt 
+together, each man having for his wife the woman 
+with whom he had had intercourse at first. Now the 
+men could not learn the women's language, but the 
+
+
+313 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τῶν ἀνδρῶν αἱ γυναῖκες συνέλαβον. ἐπεὶ δὲ 
+συνῆκαν ἀλλήλων, ἔλεξαν πρὸς τὰς ᾿Αμαξόνας 
+τάδε οἱ ἄνδρες. i Ἡμῖν εἰσὶ μὲν τοκέες, εἰσὶ 
+δὲ κτήσιες" νῦν ὧν μηκέτι πλεῦνα χρόνον ζόην 
+τοιήνδε ἔχωμεν, ἀλλ᾽ ἀπελθόντες ἐς τὸ πλῆθος 
+διαιτώµεθα. γυναῖκας δὲ ἕξομεν T καὶ 
+οὐδαμὰς ἄλλας.᾽ al δὲ πρὸς ταῦτα ἔλεξαν 
+τάδε. “Ἡμεῖς οὐκ ἂν δυναίμεθα οἰκέειν μετὰ 
+τῶν ὑμετερέων γυναικῶν" οὐ γὰρ τὰ αὐτὰ νόμαια 
+ἡμῖν τε κἀκείνησι ἐστί. ἡμεῖς μὲν τοξεύομέν τε 
+καὶ ἀκοντίξομεν καὶ ἱππαξόμεθα, ἔργα δὲ γυναι- 
+κήια οὐκ ἐμάθομεν' αἱ δὲ ὑμέτεραι γυναῖκες τού- 
+των μὲν οὐδὲν τῶν ἡμεῖς κατελέξαμεν ποιεῦσι, 
+ἔργα δὲ γυναικήια ἐργάξονται μένουσαι ἐν τῆσι 
+ἁμάξήσι, οὔτ᾽ ἐπὶ θήρην i ἰοῦσαι οὔτε ἄλλῃ οὐδαμῇ. 
+οὐκ ἂν ὧν δυναίμεθα ἐ ἐκείνῃσι συμφέρεσθαι. ἀλλ. 
+ei Βούλεσθε γυναῖκας ἔχειν ἡμέας καὶ δοκέειν 
+εἶναι δίκαιοι, ἐλθόντες παρὰ τοὺς τοκέας ἀπολά- 
+χετε τῶν κτημάτων τὸ μέρος, καὶ ἔπειτα ἐλθόντες 
+οἰκέωμεν ἐπὶ ἡμέων αὐτῶν. ἐπείθοντο καὶ ἐποί- 
+ήσαν ταῦτα οἱ νεηνίσκοι. 
+
+115. Ἐπείτε δὲ ἀπολαχόντες τῶν κτημάτων τὸ 
+ἐπιβάλλον ἦλθον ὀπίσω παρὰ τὰς ᾿Αμαξόνας, 
+ἔλεξαν αἱ γυναῖκες πρὸς αὐτοὺς τάδε. z Ἡμέας 
+ἔχει φόβος τε καὶ δέος ὅ ὅκως χρὴ οἰκέειν ἐν τῷδε 
+τῷ χώρῳ, τοῦτο μὲν ὑμέας ἀποστερησάσας πατέ- 
+pov, τοῦτο δὲ γῆν τὴν ὑμετέρην δηλησαμένας 
+πολλά. ἀλλ᾽ ἐπείτε ἀξιοῦτε ἡ ἡμέας γυναῖκας ἔχειν, 
+τάδε ποιέετε ἅμα ἡμῖν' φέρετε ἐξαναστέωμεν ἐκ 
+τῆς γῆς τῆσδε καὶ περήσαντες Τάναϊν ποταμὸν 
+οἰκέωμεν. 
+
+116. ᾿Επείθοντο καὶ ταῦτα οἱ νεηνίσκοι, δια- 
+
+
+314 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 114-116 
+
+
+women mastered the speech of the men; and when 
+they understood each other, the men said to the 
+Amazons, “ We have parents and possessions; now 
+therefore let us no longer live as we do, but return 
+to the multitude of our people and consort with 
+them ; and we will still have you, and no others, for 
+our wives.” To this the women replied: “ Nay, we 
+could not dwell with your women; for we and they 
+have not the same customs. We shoot with the bow 
+and throw the javelin and ride, but the crafts of 
+women we have never learned ; and your women do 
+none of the things whereof we speak, but abide in 
+their waggons working at women's crafts, and never 
+go abroad a-hunting or for aught else. We and 
+they therefore could never agree. Nay, if you 
+desire to keep us for wives and to have the name of 
+just men, go to your parents and let them give you 
+the allotted share of their possessions, and after that 
+let us go and dwell by ourselves,” The young men 
+agreed and did this. 
+
+115. So when they had been given the allotted 
+share of possessions which fell to them, and returned 
+to the Amazons, the women said to them: “We 
+are in fear and dread, to think how we should dwell 
+in this country; seeing that not only have we be- 
+reaved you of your parents, but we have done much 
+hurt to your land. Nay, since you think right to 
+have us for wives, let us all together, we and you, 
+remove out of this country and dwell across the river 
+Tanais." 
+
+
+116. Tothistoothe youths consented ; and crossing 
+315 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+βάντες δὲ τὸν Távaiv ὁδοιπόρεον πρὸς ἥλιον 
+ἀνίσχοντα τριῶν μὲν ἡμερέων ἀπὸ τοῦ Τανάιδος 
+ὁδόν, τριῶν δὲ ἀπὸ τῆς λίμνης τῆς Μαιήτιδος 
+πρὸς βορέην à ἄνεμον. ἀπικόμενοι δὲ ἐς τοῦτον τὸν 
+χῶρον ἐν τῷ νῦν ,κατοΐκηνται, οἴκησαν τοῦτον. 
+καὶ διαίτῃ ἀπὸ τούτου χρέωνται τῇ παλαιῇ τῶν 
+Σαυροματέων αἱ γυναῖκες, καὶ ἐπὶ θήρην em 
+ἵππων ἐκφοιτῶσαι ἅμα τοῖσι ἀνδράσι καὶ χωρὶς 
+τῶν ἀνδρῶν, καὶ ἐς E φοιτῶσαι καὶ στολὴν 
+τὴν αὐτὴν τοῖσι ἀνδράσι φορέουσαι. 
+
+117. Φωνῇ δὲ οἱ fanden νομίξουσι Σκυθικῇ, 
+σολοικίξοντες αὐτῇ ἀπὸ τοῦ ἀρχαίου, ἐπεὶ οὗ 
+χρηστῶς ἐξέμαθον αὐτὴν αἱ ᾽Αμαξόνες. TQ περὶ 
+γάμων δὲ ὧδέ σφι διακέεται: οὐ γαμέεται παρ- 
+θένος οὐδεμία πρὶν ἂν τῶν πολεμίων ἄνδρα ἀπο- 
+κτείνῃ’ ai δὲ τινὲς αὐτέων καὶ τελευτῶσι γηραιαὶ 
+πρὶν γήμασθαι, ov δυνάμεναι τὸν νόμον ἐκπλῆσαι. 
+
+118. ᾿Επὶ τούτων ὧν τῶν 'καταλεχθέντων ἐθνέων 
+τοὺς βασιλέας ἁλισμένους ἀπικόμενοι τῶν Σκυθέων 
+οἱ ἄγγελοι ἔλεγον ἐκδιδάσκοντες ὡς ὁ Πέρσης, 
+ἐπειδή οἱ τὰ ἐν τῇ ἠπείρῳ τῇ ἑτέρῃ πάντα κατέ- 
+στραπται, γέφυραν ζεύξας ἐπὶ τῷ αὐχένι τοῦ 
+Βοσπόρου διαβέβηκε ἐς τήνδε τὴν ἤπειρον, διαβὰς 
+δὲ καὶ καταστρεψάμενος Θρήικας γεφυροῦ ποταμὸν 
+
+Ἴστρον, βουλόμενος καὶ τάδε πάντα. vr ἑωυτῷ 
+ποιήσασθαι. “Ὑμεῖς ὧν μηδενὶ τρόπῳ ἐκ τοῦ 
+μέσου κατήμενοι περιίδητε ἡμέας διαφθαρέντας, 
+ἀλλὰ τὠυτὸ νοήσαντες ἀντιάξωμεν τὸν ἐπιόντα. | 
+οὔκων ποιήσετε ταῦτα" ἡμεῖς μὲν πιεζόμενοι 5 
+ἐκλείψομεν τὴν χώρην 7) μένοντες ὁμολογίῃ χρησό- 
+µεθα. τί γὰρ πάθωμεν μὴ ᾿Βουλομένων ὑμέων 
+τιμωρέειν; ὑμῖν δὲ οὐδὲν ἐπὶ τούτῳ ἔσται ἐλα- 
+
+
+316 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 116-118 
+
+
+the Tanais they went athree days' journey from the 
+river eastwards, and a three days' journey from the 
+Maeetian lake northwards ; and when they came to 
+the region in which they now dwell, they made their 
+abode there. Ever since then the women of the 
+Sauromatae have followed their ancient usage ; they 
+ride a-hunting with their men or without them; they 
+goto war, and wear the same dress as the men. 
+
+117. The language of the Sauromatae is Scythian, 
+but not spoken in its ancient purity, seeing that the 
+Amazons never rightly learnt it. In regard to 
+marriage, it is the custom that no virgin weds till 
+she has slain a man of the enemy; and some of 
+them grow old and die unmarried, because they 
+cannot fulfil the law. 
+
+118. The kings then of these aforesaid nations 
+being assembled, the Scythian messengers came and 
+laid all exactly before them, telling how the Persian, 
+now that the whole of the other continent was 
+subject to him, had crossed over to their continent 
+by a bridge thrown across the gut of the Bosporus, 
+and how having crossed it and subdued the Thracians 
+he was now bridging the Ister, that he might make 
+all that region subject like the others to himself. 
+* Do you, then," said they, *by no means sit apart 
+and suffer us to be destroyed; rather let us unite and 
+encounter this invader. If you will not do this, then 
+shall we either be driven perforce out of our country, 
+or abide and make terms. For what is to become of 
+us if you will not aid us? And thereafter it will be no 
+
+
+317 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+$pórepov: ἥκει γὰρ ὁ 0 Πέρσης οὐδέν TL μᾶλλον em 
+ἡμέας ἢ οὐ καὶ ἐπ᾿ ὑμέας, οὐδέ οἱ καταχρήσει 
+ἡμέας -καταστρεψαμένῳ ὑμέων ἀπέχεσθαι. μέγα 
+δὲ .ὑμῖν λόγων τῶνδε μαρτύριον ἐρέομεν. εἰ γὰρ 
+ἐπ᾽ ἡμέας μούνους ἐστρατηλάτεε ó Πέρσης τίσα- 
+σθαι τῆς πρόσθε δουλοσύνης βουλόμενος, χρῆν 
+αὐτὸν πάντων τῶν ἄλλων ἀπεχόμενον. ἰέναι οὕτω 
+ἐπὶ τὴν ἡμετέρην, καὶ ἂν ἐδήλου πᾶσι ὡς ἐπὶ 
+Σκύθας ἐλαύνει καὶ οὐκ ἐπὶ τοὺς ἄλλους. νῦν δὲ 
+ἐπείτε τά ora διέβη ἐς τήνδε. τὴν ἤπειρον, τοὺς 
+αἰεὶ ἐμπο ὧν γινομένους ἡμεροῦται πάντας" τούς 
+τε δὴ ἄλλους ἔ ἔχει ὑπ᾽ ἑωυτῷ Θρήικας καὶ δὴ καὶ 
+τοὺς ἡμῖν ἐόντας πλησιοχώρους Γέτας.” 
+
+119, Ταῦτα Σκυθέων ἐπαγγελλομένων ἐβουλεύ- 
+οντο οἱ βασιλέες οἱ ἀπὸ τῶν ἐθνέων ij ἥκοντες, καί 
+σφεων ἐσχίσθησαν αἱ γνῶμαι" ὁ μὲν γὰρ Γελωνὸς 
+καὶ ὁ Βουδῖνος καὶ ὁ Σαυρομάτης κατὰ τὠυτὸ 
+γενόμενοι ὑπεδέκοντο Σκύθῃσι τιμωρήσειν, ὁ δὲ 
+᾿Αγάθυρσος καὶ Νευρὸς καὶ ᾿Ανδροφάγος καὶ οἱ 
+τῶν Μελαγχλαίνων καὶ Ταύρων τάδε Σκύθῃσι 
+ὑπεκρίναντο. “ Εἰ μὲν μὴ ὑμεῖς ἔατε οἱ πρότεροι 
+ἀδικήσαντες Πέρσας καὶ ἄρξαντες πολέμου, τού- 
+των δεόμενοι τῶν νῦν δέεσθε λέγειν τε ἂν 
+ἐφαίνεσθε ἡμῖν ὀρθά, καὶ ἡμεῖς ὑπακούσαντες 
+τὠυτὸ ἂν .ὑμῖν ἐπρήσσομεν. νῦν δὲ ὑμεῖς τε 
+ἐς τὴν ἐκείνων ἐσβαλόντες γῆν ἄνευ ἡμέων ἐπε- 
+κρατίετε Περσέων ὅσον χρόνον ὑμῖν 6 θεὸς 
+παρεδίδου, καὶ ἐκεῖνοι, ἐπεί σφεας ὠυτὸς θεὸς 
+ἐγείρει, τὴν ὁμοίην ὑμῖν ἀποδιδοῦσι. ἡμεῖς δὲ 
+οὔτε TL TÓTE ἠδικήσαμεν τοὺς ἄνδρας τούτους 
+οὐδὲν οὔτε νῦν πρότεροι πειρησόμεθα ἀδικέειν. ἣν 
+μέντοι ἐπίῃ καὶ ἐπὶ τὴν ἡμετέρην ἄρξῃ τε ἀδικέων, 
+
+
+318 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 118-119 
+
+
+light matter for you yourselves; for the Persian is come 
+to attack you no whit less than us, nor when he has 
+subdued us will he be content to leave you alone. 
+We can give you full proof of what we say: were it 
+we alone against whom the Persian is marching, to be 
+avenged on us for'our former enslaving of his country, 
+it is certain that he would leave others alone and 
+make straight for us, thus making it plain to all that 
+Scythia and no other country is his goal. But now, 
+from the day of his crossing over to this continent, 
+he has been ever taming all that come in his way, 
+and he holds in subjection, not only the rest of 
+Thrace, but also our neighbours the Getae." 
+
+119. Such being the message of the Scythians, the 
+kings who had come from their nations took counsel, 
+and their opinions were divided. The kings of the 
+Geloni and the Budini and the Sauromatae made 
+common cause and promised to help the Scythians; 
+but the kings of the Agathyrsi and Neuri and Man- 
+eaters and Black-cloaks and Tauri made this answer 
+«το the messengers: “Had it not been you who did 
+unprovoked wrong to the Persians and so began the 
+war, this request that you proffer would seem to us 
+right, and we would consent and act jointly with you. 
+But now, you and not we invaded their land and 
+held it for such time as the god permitted ; and the 
+Persians, urged on by the same god, are but re- 
+quiting you in like manner. But we did these men no 
+wrong in that former time, nor will we essay to harm 
+them now unprovoked; natheless if the Persian 
+come against our land too and do the first act of 
+
+
+319 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+καὶ ἡ ἡμεῖς οὐ πεισόμεθα, μέχρι δὲ τοῦτο ἴδωμεν, 
+μενέομεν. παρ᾽ ἡμῖν αὐτοῖσι" ἥκειν γὰρ δοκέομεν 
+οὐκ ἐπ᾿ ἡμέας Πέρσας ἀλλ᾽ ἐπὶ τοὺς αἰτίους τῆς 
+ἀδικίης γενομένους." 
+
+120. Ταῦτα ὡς ἀπενειχθέντα ἐπύθοντο οἱ 
+Σκύθαι, ἐβουλεύοντο ἰθυμαχίην μὲν μηδεμίαν 
+ποιέεσθαι ἐς τοῦ ἐμφανέος, ὅ ὅτε δή σφι οὗτού γε 
+σύμμαχοι οὐ προσεγίνοντο, ὑπεξιόντες δὲ καὶ 
+ὑπεξελαύνοντες τὰ φρέατα τὰ παρεξίοιεν αὐτοὶ 
+καὶ τὰς κρήνας συγχοῦν, τὴν ποίην τε ἐκ τῆς γῆς 
+ἐκτρίβειν, διχοῦ σφέας διελόντες. καὶ πρὸς μὲν 
+τὴν μίαν τῶν μοιρέων, τῆς ἐβασίλευε Σκώπασις, 
+προσχωρέειν αυρομάτας" τούτους μὲν δὴ ὑπά- 
+yew, T ἐπὶ τοῦτο τράπηται ὁ Πέρσης, ἰθὺ 
+Τανάιδος ποταμοῦ παρὰ τὴν Μαιῆτιν λίμνην͵ ὑπο- 
+φεύγοντας, ἀπελαύνοντός τε τοῦ Πέρσεω ἐπιόντας 
+διώκειν. αὕτη μὲν σφι μία ἦν μοῖρα τῆς βα- 
+σιληίης, τεταγμένη ταύτην τὴν ὁδὸν Ñ Ñ περ. εἴρηται" 
+τὰς δὲ δύο τῶν βασιληίων, τήν τε μεγάλην τῆς 
+ἦρχε Ἰδάνθυρσος καὶ τὴν τρίτην τῆς ἐβασίλευε 
+Τάξακις, συνελθούσας ἐς τὠυτὸ καὶ Γελωνῶν τε 
+καὶ Βουδίνων προσγενομέν ων, ἡμέρης καὶ τούτους 
+ὁδῷ προέχοντας τῶν Περσέων ὑπεξάγειν, ú ὑπιόντας 
+τε καὶ ποιεῦντας τὰ βεβουλευμένα. πρῶτα μέν 
+νυν ὑπάγειν σφέας ἰθὺ τῶν ωρέων τῶν ἀπειπα- 
+μένων τὴν σφετέρην συμμαχίην, ἵνα καὶ τούτους 
+ἐκπολεμώσωσι" εἰ γ ρ μὴ ἑκόντες ye. ὑπέδυσαν 
+τὸν πόλεμον τὸν πρὸς Πέρσας, ἆλλ᾽ ἀέκοντας 
+ἐκπολεμώσειν' μετὰ δὲ τοῦτο ὑποστρέφειν ἐς τὴν 
+σφετέρην καὶ ἐπιχειρέειν, ἦν δὴ βουλενομένοισι 
+
+
+δοκέῃ. 
+
+
+1 πεισόμεθα MSS. ; Stein prefers κεισόμεθα, ‘lie inactive." 
+
+
+320 
+
+
+BOOK IV. II9-I20 
+
+
+wrong, then we two will not consent to it; but till we 
+see that, we will abide where we are by ourselves. 
+For in our judgment the Persians are attacking not us 
+but those at whose door the offence lies." 
+
+120. This answer being brought back and made 
+known to the Scythians, they resolved not to meet 
+their enemy in the open field, seeing that they could 
+not get the allies that they sought, but rather to with- 
+draw and drive off their herds, choking the wells and 
+springs on their way and rooting up the grass from 
+the earth; and they divided themselves into two 
+companies. It was their will that to one of their 
+divisions, over which Scopasis was king, the Sauro- 
+matae should be added; this host should, if the 
+Persian marched that way, retire before him and 
+draw off towards the river Tanais, by the Maeetian 
+lake, and if the Persian turned to depart then they 
+should attack and pursue him. This was one of the 
+divisions of the royal people, and it was appointed to 
+follow the way aforesaid ; their two other divisions, 
+namely, the greater whereof the ruler was Idan- 
+thyrsus, and the third whose king was Taxakis, were 
+to unite, and taking to them also the Geloni and 
+Budini, to draw off like the others at the Persian 
+approach, ever keeping one day's march in front of 
+the enemy, avoiding a meeting and doing what had 
+been resolved. First, then, they must retreat in a 
+straight course towards the countries which refused 
+their alliance, so that these too might be compelled 
+to fight; for if they would not of their own accord 
+enter the lists against the Persians, they must be 
+driven to war willy-nilly ; and after that, the host 
+must turn back to its own country, and attack the 
+enemy, if in debate this should seem good. 
+
+
+321 
+VOL. II. Y 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+121. Ταῦτα οἱ Σκύθαι βουλευσάμενοι ὑπηντία- 
+δον τὴν Δαρείου στρατιήν, προδρόμους ἀποστεί- 
+λαντες τῶν ἱππέων τοὺς ἀρίστους. τὰς δὲ ἁμάξας 
+ἐν τῇσύ σφι διαιτᾶτο τὰ τέκνα καὶ αἱ γυναῖκες 
+πάσας καὶ τὰ πρόβατα πάντα, πλὴν ὅσα σφι ἐς 
+φορβὴν ἱκανὰ ἦν τοσαῦτα ὑπολιπόμενοι, τὰ ἄλλα 
+ἅμα τῆσι ἁμάξῃσι προέπεμψαν, ἐντειλάμενοι αἰεὶ 
+τὸ πρὸς βορέω ἐλαύνειν. 
+
+129, Ταῦτα μὲν δὴ προεκοµίζετο' τῶν δὲ Σκυ- 
+θέων οἱ πρόδρομοι ὡς εὗρον τοὺς Πέρσας ὅσον τε 
+τριῶν ἡμερέων ὁδὸν ἀπέχοντας ἀπὸ τοῦ Ἴστρου, 
+οὗτοι μὲν τούτους εὑρόντες, ἡμέρης ὁδῷ προέχοντες, 
+ἐστρατοπεδεύοντο τὰ ἐκ τῆς γῆς φυόμενα λεαί- 
+νοντες. οἱ δὲ Πέρσαι ὡς εἶδον ἐπιφανεῖσαν τῶν 
+Σκυθέων τὴν ἵππον, ἐπήισαν κατὰ στίβον αἰεὶ 
+ὑπαγόντων' καὶ ἔπειτα (πρὸς γὰρ τὴν μίαν τῶν 
+μοιρέων ἴθυσαν) οἱ Πέρσαι ἐδίωκον πρὸς ἠῶ τε 
+καὶ ἰθὺ Τανάιδος: διαβάντων δὲ τούτων τὸν 
+Τάναϊν ποταμὸν οἱ Πέρσαι ἐπιδιαβάντες ἐδίωκον, 
+ἐς ὃ τῶν Σαυροματέων τὴν χώρην διεξελθόντες 
+ἀπίκοντο ἐς τὴν τῶν Βουδίνων. 
+
+123. "Όσον μὲν δὴ χρόνον οἱ Πέρσαι ἤισαν διὰ 
+τῆς Σκυθικῆς καὶ τῆς Σαυρομάτιδος χώρης, οἳ δὲ 
+εἶχον οὐδὲν σίνεσθαι ἅτε τῆς χώρης ἐούσης 
+χέρσου" ἐπείτε δὲ ἐς τὴν τῶν Βουδίνων χώρην 
+ἐσέβαλλον, ἐνθαῦτα δὴ ἐντυχόντες τῷ ξυλίνῳ 
+τείχεϊ, ἐκλελοιπότων τῶν Βουδίνων καὶ κεκενω- 
+μένου τοῦ τείχεος πάντων, ἐνέπρησαν αὐτό. τοῦτο 
+δὲ ποιήσαντες εἵποντο αἰεὶ τὸ πρόσω κατὰ στίβον, 
+ἐς ὃ διεξελθόντες ταύτην ἐς τὴν ἔρημον ἀπίκοντο. 
+ἡ δὲ ἔρημος αὕτη ὑπὸ οὐδαμῶν νέμεται ἀνδρῶν, 
+κέεται δὲ ὑπὲρ τῆς Βουδίνων χώρης ἐοῦσα πλῆθος 
+322 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 121—123 
+
+
+121. Being resolved on this plan, the Scythians 
+sent an advance guard of the best of their horse- 
+men to meet Darius’ army. As for the waggons in 
+which their children and wives lived, all these they 
+sent forward, charged to drive ever northward ; and 
+with the waggons they sent all their flocks, keeping 
+none back save such as were sufficient for their food. 
+
+122. This convoy being first sent on its way, the 
+advance guard of the Scythians found the Persians 
+about a three days' march distant from the Ister; 
+and having found them they encamped a day's march 
+ahead of the enemy and set about clearing the land 
+of all growing things. When the Persians saw the 
+Scythian cavalry appearing, they marched on in its 
+tracks, the horsemen ever withdrawing before them ; 
+and then, making for the one Scythian division, the 
+Persians held on in pursuit towards the east and the 
+river Tanais; which when the horsemen had crossed 
+the Persians crossed also, and pursued till they had 
+marched through the land of the Sauromatae to the 
+land of the Budini. — 
+
+- 123. As long as the Persians were traversing the 
+Scythian and Sauromatic territory there was nothing 
+for them to harm, as the land was dry and barren. But 
+when they. entered the country of the Budini, they 
+found themselves before the wooden-walled town; 
+the Budini had deserted it and left nothing therein, 
+and the Persians burnt the town. Then going still 
+forward in the horsemen's tracks they passed through 
+this country into the desert, which is inhabited by 
+no men; it lies to the north of the -Budini and its 
+
+
+323 
+y 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS. 
+
+
+ἑπτὰ ἡμερέων ὁδοῦ. ὑπὲρ δὲ τῆς ἐρήμου Ovo- 
+σαγέται οἰκέουσι, ποταμοὶ δὲ ἐξ αὐτῶν τέσσερες 
+μεγάλοι ῥέοντες διὰ Μαιητέων ἐκδιδοῦσι ἐς τὴν 
+λίμνην τὴν καλεομένην Μαιῆτιν, τοῖσι οὐνόματα 
+κέεται τάδε, Λύκος Ὄαρος Τάναϊς Σύργις. 
+
+124. ᾿Επεὶ ὧν ὁ Δαρεῖος ἦλθε ἐς τὴν ἔρημον, 
+παυσάμενος τοῦ δρόμου ἵδρυσε τὴν στρατιὴν ἐπὶ 
+ποταμῷ Ὀάρῳ. τοῦτο δὲ ποιήσας ὀκτὼ τείχεα 
+ἐτείχεε μεγάλα, ἴσον am ἀλλήλων ἀπέχοντα, 
+σταδίους ὡς ἑξήκοντα μάλιστά kp τῶν ἔτι ἐς ἐμὲ 
+τὰ ἐρείπια σόα ἦν. ἐν ᾧ δὲ οὗτος πρὸς ταῦτα 
+ἐτράπετο, οἱ διωκόμενοι Σκύθαι περιελθόντες τὰ 
+κατύπερθε ὑπέστρεφον ἐς τὴν Σκυθικήν. ἀφανι- 
+σθέντων δὲ τούτων τὸ παράπαν, ὡς οὐκέτι ἐφαν- 
+τάζοντὀ σφι, οὕτω δὴ ὁ Δαρεῖος τείχεα μὲν ἐκεῖνα 
+ἡμίεργα μετῆκε, αὐτὸς δὲ ὑποστρέψας ἤιε πρὸς 
+ἑσπέρην, δοκέων τούτους τε πάντας τοὺς Σκύθας 
+εἶναι καὶ πρὸς ἑσπέρην σφέας φεύγειν. 
+
+126. ᾿Βλαύνων δὲ τὴν ταχίστην τὸν στρατὸν 
+ὡς ἐς τὴν Σκυθικὴν ἀπίκετο, ἐνέκυρσε ἀμφοτέρῃσι 
+
+
+^ /, ^ 
+
+
+/ , A . 207 
+τῇσι μοίρησι τῶν Σκυθέων, ἐντυχὼν δὲ ἐδίωκε 
+IANA 
+ὑπεκφέροντας ἡμέρης ὁδῷ. καὶ ov γὰρ ἀνίει 
+ἐπιὼν ὁ Δαρεῖος, οἱ Σκύθαι κατὰ τὰ βεβουλευ- 
+μένα ὑπέφευγον ἐς τῶν ἀπειπαμένων τὴν σφετέ- 
+pnv συμμαχίην, πρώτην δὲ ἐς τῶν Μελαγχλαίνων 
+τὴν γῆν. ὡς δὲ ἐσβαλόντες τούτους ἐτάραξαν οὗ 
+
+/ . ε / / ε lA 
+τε Σκύθαι καὶ οἱ Πέρσαι, κατηγέοντο οἱ Σκύθαι 
+, 
+
+ἐς τῶν ᾿Ανδροφάγων τοὺς χώρους" ταραχθέντων 
+δὲ καὶ τούτων ὑπῆγον ἐπὶ τὴν Nevpióa: ταρασσο- 
+, e 
+
+μένων δὲ καὶ τούτων ἤισαν ὑποφεύγοντες οἱ 
+/ 9 \ , ΄ » , \ 
+Σκύθαι ἐς τοὺς ᾿Αγαθύρσους. ᾿Αγαθύρσοι δὲ 
+
+ε 
+ὁρέοντες καὶ τοὺς ὁμούρους φεύγοντας ὑπὸ Σκυ- 
+
+
+324 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 123-125 
+
+
+breadth is a seven days’ march. Beyond this desert 
+dwell the Thyssagetae; four great rivers flow from 
+their country through the land of the Maeetians, 
+and issue into the lake called the Maeetian ; their 
+names are Lycus, Oarus, Tanais, Syrgis. 
+
+124. When Darius came into the desert, he 
+halted in his race and encamped on the river Oarus, 
+where he built eight great forts, all at an equal 
+distance of about sixty furlongs from each other, the 
+ruins of which were standing even in my lifetime. 
+While he was busied with these, the Scythians whom 
+he pursued fetched a compass northwards and turned 
+back into Scythia. When they had altogether 
+vanished and were no longer within the Persians’ 
+sight, Darius then left those forts but half finished, 
+and he too turned about and marched westward, 
+thinking that those Scythians were the whole army, 
+and that they were fleeing towards the west. 
+
+125. But when he came by forced marches into 
+Scythia, he met both the divisions of the Scythians, 
+and pursued them, they keeping ever a day’s march 
+away from him; and because he would not cease 
+from pursuing them, the Scythians, according to the 
+plan they had made, fled before him to the countries 
+of those who had refused their alliance, and first to 
+the land of the Black-cloaks. Into their land the 
+Scythians and Persians burst, troubling their peace; 
+and thence the Scythians led the Persians into the 
+country of the Man-eaters, troubling them too; 
+whence they drew off with a like effect into the 
+country of the Neuri, and troubling them also, fled 
+to the Agathyrsi. But these, seeing their very neigh- 
+bours fleeing panic-stricken at the Scythians’ approach, 
+
+
+325 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+θέων καὶ τεταραγμένους, πρὶν 7 σφι ἐμβαλεῖν 
+τοὺς Σκύθας πέμψαντες κήρυκα ἀπηγόρευον 
+Σκύθῃσι μὴ ἐπιβαίνειν τῶν σφετέρων οὔρων, 
+προλέγοντες ὡς εἰ πειρήσονται ἐσβαλόντες, σφίσι 
+πρῶτα διαμαχήσονται. ᾿Αγάθυρσοι μὲν προεί- 
+παντες ταῦτα ἐβοήθεον ἐπὶ τοὺς οὔρους, ἐρύκειν 
+ἐν νόῳ ἔχοντες τοὺς ἐπιόντας: Μελάγχλαινοι δὲ 
+καὶ ᾿Ανδροφάγοι καὶ Νευροὶ ἐσβαλόντων τῶν 
+Περσέων ἅμα Σκύθῃσι οὔτε πρὸς ἀλκὴν ἐτρά- 
+ποντο ἐπιλαθόμενοί τε τῆς ἀπειλῆς ἔφευγον αἰεὶ 
+τὸ πρὸς βορέω ἐ ἐς τὴν ἔρημον τεταραγμένοι. οἱ δὲ 
+Σκύθαι ἐς μὲν τοὺς ᾿Αγαθύρσους οὐκέτι ἀπεί- 
+παντας ἀπικνέοντο, οἳ δὲ ἐκ τῆς Νευρίδος χώρης 
+ἐς τὴν σφετέρην κατηγέοντο | τοῖσι Πέρσῃσι. 
+
+126. Ὡς δὲ πολλὸν τοῦτο , Sytvero καὶ οὖκ 
+ἐπαύετο, πέμψας Δαρεῖος ἱππέα παρὰ τὸν Σκυ- 
+θέων βασιλέα ᾿Ιδάνθυρσον ἔλεγε τάδε. “Δαιμό- 
+νιε ἀνδρῶν, τί φεύγεις aici, ἐξεόν τοι τῶνδε τὰ 
+ἕτερα ποιέειν; εἰ μὲν γὰρ ἀξιόχρεος δοκέεις εἶναι 
+σεωυτῷ τοῖσι ἐμοῖσι πρήγμασι ἀντιωθῆναι, σὺ δὲ 
+στάς τε καὶ παυσάμενος πλάνης μάχεσθαι" εἰ δὲ 
+συγγινώσκεαι εἶναι ἥσσων, σὺ δὲ ax οὕτω Tav- 
+σάμενος τοῦ δρόμου δεσπότῃ τῷ σῷ δῶρα φέρων 
+γῆν τε καὶ ὕδωρ ἐλθὲ é és λόγους," 
+
+127. Πρὸς ταῦτα ὁ Σκυθέων Βασιλεὺς ἼἸδάν- 
+θυρσος λέγει τάδε. ““Οὕτω τὸ ἐμὸν ἔχει, à 
+Πέρσα. ἐγὼ οὐδένα κω ἀνθρώπων δείσας ἔφυγον 
+οὔτε πρότερον οὔτε νῦν σὲ φεύγω, οὐδέ TL νεώ- 
+Τερον eip} ποιήσας νῦν ἢ καὶ ἐν εἰρήνῃ ἐώθεα 
+ποιέειν. ὅ τι δὲ οὐκ αὐτίκα , μάχομαί τοι, ἐγὼ 
+καὶ τοῦτο σημανέω. ἡμῖν οὔτε ἄστεα οὔτε γῆ 
+πεφυτευμένη ἐστί, τῶν πέρι δείσαντες μὴ ἁλῷ ἢ 
+
+
+326 
+
+
+* 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 125-127 
+
+
+before the Scythians could break into their land sent 
+a herald to fotbid them to set foot on their borders, 
+warning the Scythians that if they essayed to break 
+through they must first fight with the Agathyrsi. 
+With this warning they mustered on their borders, 
+with intent to stay the invaders. But the Black- 
+cloaks and Man-eaters and Neuri, when the Persians 
+and the Scythians broke into their lands, made no 
+resistance, but forgot their threats and fled panic- 
+stricken ever northward into the desert. The 
+Scythians, being warned off by the Agathyrsi, made 
+no second attempt on that country, but led the 
+-Persians from the lands of the Neuri into Scythia. 
+126. All this continuing long, and there being no 
+end to it, Darius sent a horseman to Idanthyrsus the 
+Scythian king, with this message: “Sir, these are 
+strange doings. Why will you ever flee? You can 
+choose which of two things you will do: if you deem 
+yourself strong enough to withstand my power, 
+wander no further, but stand and fight; but if you 
+know yourself to be the weaker, then make an end 
+of this running to and fro, and come to terms with 
+your master, sending him gifts of earth and water.” 
+127. To this Idanthyrsus the Scythian king made 
+answer: * Know this of me, Persian, that I have 
+never fled for fear of any man, nor do I now flee 
+from you; this that I have done is no new thing or 
+other than my practice in peace. But as to the 
+reason why I do not straightway fight with you, this 
+too I will tell you. For we Scythians have no towns 
+or planted lands, that we might meet you the sooner 
+
+
+327 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+καρῇ ταχύτερον ἂν ὑμῖν συμμίσγοιµεν ἐς μάχην. 
+εἰ δὲ δέοι πάντως ἐς τοῦτο κατὰ τάχος ἀπικνέ- 
+εσθαι, τυγχάνουσι. ἡμῖν ἐόντες τάφοι πατρώιοι' 
+φέρετε, τούτους ἀνευρόντες συγχέειν πειρᾶσθε 
+αὐτούς, καὶ γνώσεσθε τότε εἶτε ὑμῖν μαχησόμεθα 
+περὶ τῶν τάφων. εἴτε καὶ οὐ μαχησόμεθα. πρό- 
+τερον δέ, ἣν μὴ ἡμέας λόγος αἱρέῃ, οὐ συμμίξομέν 
+τοι. ἀμφὶ μὲν μάχῃ τοσαῦτα εἰρήσθω, δεσπότας 
+δὲ -ἐμοὺς ἐγὼ Δία τε νομίζω τὸν ἐμὸν πρόγονον 
+καὶ Ἱστίην τὴν Σκυθέων βασίλειαν μούνους εἶναι. 
+σοὶ δὲ ἀντὶ μὲν δώρων γῆς τε καὶ ὕδατος δῶρα 
+πέμψω τοιαῦτα οἷα σοὶ πρέπει ἐλθεῖν, ἀντὶ δὲ 
+τοῦ ὅτι δεσπότης ἔφησας εἶναι ἐμός, Aalen, 
+λέγω.” τοῦτο ἐστὶ ἡ ἀπὸ Σκυθέων f ῥῆσις.. 
+
+138. Ὁ ' μὲν δὴ κῆρυξ οἰχώκεε ἀγγελέων ταῦτα 
+Δαρείῳ, οἱ δὲ Σκυθέων βασιλέες ἀκούσαντες τῆς 
+δουλοσύνης τὸ οὔνομα ὀργῆς. ἐπλήσθησαν. τὴν 
+μὲν δὴ μετὰ Σαυροματέων μοῖραν ταχθεῖσαν, τῆς 
+ἦρχε Σκώπασις, πέμπουσι "lect κελεύοντες ἐς 
+λόγους ἀπικέσθαι, τούτοισι οἳ τὸν Ἴστρον ἐξευ- 
+γμένον ἐφρούρεον" αὐτῶν δὲ τοῖσι ὑπολειπομέ- 
+νοισι ἔδοξε πλανᾶν μὲν μηκέτι Πέρσας, σῖτα δὲ 
+ἑκάστοτε ἀναιρεομένοισι ἐπιτίθεσθαι. νωμῶντες 
+ὧν σῖτα ἀναιρεομένους τοὺς Δαρείου ἐποίευν τὰ 
+βεβουλευμένα. ἡ μὲν δὴ í ἵππος τὴν ἵππον αἰεὶ 
+τράπεσκε ἡ τῶν Σκυθέων, οἱ δὲ τῶν Περσέων 
+ἱππόται φεύγοντες ἐσέπιπτον ἐς τὸν πεξόν, ὁ δὲ 
+πεζὸς. ἂν ἐπεκούρεε' οἱ δὲ Σκύθαι ἐσαράξαντες 
+τὴν ἵππον ὑπέστρεφον τὸν πεζὸν φοβεόμενοι. 
+ἐποιέοντο δὲ καὶ τὰς νύκτας παραπλησίας προσ- 
+βολὰς οἱ Σκύθαι. 
+
+
+! This sentence is bracketed by Stein, but there seems to 
+be no conclusive reason for rejecting it. 
+
+
+328 
+
+
+BOOK IV, 127-128 
+
+
+in battle, fearing lest the one be taken or the other 
+be wasted. But if nothing will serve you but fighting 
+straightway, we have the graves of our fathers ; come, 
+find these and essay to destroy them; then shall you 
+know whether we will fight you for those graves or 
+no. Till then we will not join battle unless we think 
+good. Thus much I say of fighting ; for my masters, 
+I hold them to be Zeus my forefather and Hestia 
+queen of the Scythians, and none other. Gifts I will 
+send you, not earth and water, but such as you 
+should rightly receive; and for your boast that you 
+are my master, take my malison for it." This was 
+the speech returned by the Scythians. 
+
+128. So the herald went to carry this message to 
+Darius; but the Scythian kings were full of anger 
+when they heard the name of slavery. They sent 
+then the division of Scythians and Sauromatae, which 
+was led by Scopasis, to speak with those Ionians who 
+guarded the bridge over the Ister; as for those of 
+the Scythians who were left behind, it was resolved 
+that they should no longer lead the Persians astray, 
+but attack them whenever they were foraging for 
+provision. «9ο they watched for the time when 
+Darius men were foraging, and did according to 
+their plan. The Scythian horse ever routed the 
+Persian horse, and the Persian horsemen falling back 
+in flight on their footmen, the foot would come to 
+their aid; and the Scythians, once they had driven 
+in the horse, turned about for fear of the foot. The 
+Scythians attacked in this fashion by night as well as 
+by day. 
+
+
+329 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+129. Τὸ δὲ τοῖσι Πέρσῃσί τε ἦν σύμμαχον καὶ 
+τοῖσι Σκύθῃσι ἀντίξοον ἐπιτιθεμένοισι τῷ Δαρείου 
+στρατοπέδῳ, θῶμα μέγιστον ἐρέω, τῶν τε ὄνων ἡ 
+φωνὴ καὶ τῶν ἡμιόνων τὸ εἶδος. οὔτε γὰρ ὄνον 
+οὔτε ἡμίονον γῆ ἡ Σκυθικὴ φέρει, ὡς καὶ πρότερόν 
+μοι δεδήλωται, οὐδὲ ἔστι ἐν τῇ Σκυθικῇ πάση 
+χώρῃ τὸ παράπαν οὔτε ὄνος οὔτε ἡμίονος διὰ τὰ 
+ψύχεα. ὑβρίξοντες ὧν οἱ ὄνοι ἐτάρασσον τὴν 
+ἵππον τῶν Σκυθέων. πολλάκις δὲ ἐπελαυνόντων 
+ἐπὶ τοὺς Πέρσας μεταξὺ ὅκως ἀκούσειαν οἱ ἵπποι 
+τῶν ὄνων τῆς φωνῆς, ἐταράσσοντό τε ὑποστρεφό- 
+μενοι καὶ ἐν θώματι ἔσκον, ὀρθὰ ἱστάντες τὰ ὦτα, 
+ἅτε οὔτε ἀκούσαντες πρότερον φωνῆς τοιαύτης 
+οὔτε ἰδόντες τὸ εἶδος. 
+
+130. Ταῦτα μέν νυν ἐπὶ σμικρόν τι ἐφέροντο 
+τοῦ πολέμου. οἱ δὲ Σκύθαι ὅκως τοὺς Πέρσας 
+ἴδοιεν τεθορυβηµένους, ἵνα παραμένοιέν τε ἐπὶ 
+πλέω χρόνον ἐν τῇ Σκυθικῇ καὶ παραμένοντες 
+ἀνιῷατο τῶν πάντων ἐπιδευέες ἐόντες, ἐποίεον 
+τοιάδε" ὅκως τῶν προβάτων τῶν σφετέρων αὐτῶν 
+καταλίποιεν μετὰ τῶν νομέων, αὐτοὶ ἂν ὑπεξή- 
+λαυνον ἐς ἄλλον χῶρον' οἱ δὲ ἂν Πέρσαι ἐπελ- 
+θόντες λάβεσκον τὰ πρόβατα καὶ λαβόντες 
+ἐπηείροντο ἂν τῷ πεποιημένῳ. | 
+
+131. Πολλάκις δὲ τοιούτου γινομένου, τέλος 
+Δαρεῖός τε ἐν ἀπορίῃσι εἴχετο, καὶ οἱ Σκυθέων 
+βασιλέες μαθόντες τοῦτο ἔπεμπον κήρυκα δῶρα 
+Δαρείῳ φέροντα ὄρνιθά τε καὶ μῦν καὶ βάτραχον 
+καὶ ὀιστοὺς πέντε. Πέρσαι δὲ τὸν φέροντα τὰ 
+δῶρα ἐπειρώτεον τὸν νόον τῶν διδομένων' ὃ δὲ 
+οὐδὲν ἔφη οἱ ἐπεστάλθαι ἄλλο ἢ δόντα τὴν ταχί- 
+στην ἀπαλλάσσεσθαι: αὐτοὺς δὲ τοὺς Πέρσας 
+
+
+339 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 129-131 
+
+
+. 129. Most strange it is to relate, but what aided 
+the Persians and thwarted the Scythians in their 
+attacks on Darius' army was the braying of the asses 
+and the appearance of the mules. For, as I have 
+before shown, Scythia bears no asses or mules; nor 
+is there in the most of Scythia any ass or mule, by 
+reason of the cold. "Therefore the asses, when they 
+waxed wanton, alarmed the Scythian horses; and often, 
+when they were in the act of charging the Persians, 
+if the horses heard the asses bray they would turn 
+back in affright or stand astonished with ears erect, 
+never having heard a like noise or seen a like 
+creature. | 
+
+130. This then played some small part in the war. 
+When the Scythians saw that the Persians were 
+shaken, they formed a plan whereby they might 
+remain longer in Scythia and so remaining might be 
+distressed by lack of all things needful: they would 
+leave some of their flocks behind with the shepherds, 
+themselves moving away to another place; and the 
+Persians would come and take the sheep, and be 
+uplifted by this achievement. 
+
+131. This having often happened, Darius was in a 
+quandary ; which when they perceived, the Scythian 
+kings senta herald bringing Darius the gift of a bird, 
+a mouse, a frog, and five arrows. The Persians asked 
+the bringer of these gifts what they might mean; 
+but he said that no charge had been laid on him save 
+to give the gifts and then depart with all speed ; let 
+
+
+331 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐκέλευε, εἰ σοφοί εἰσι, γνῶναι τὸ θέλει τὰ δῶρα 
+λέγειν. 
+
+199. Ταῦτα ἀκούσαντες οἱ Πέρσαι ἐβουλεύοντο. 
+Δαρείου μέν νυν ἡ γνώμη ἦν Σκύθας ἑ ἑωυτῷ διδό- 
+ναι σφέας τε αὐτοὺς καὶ γῆν τε καὶ ὕδωρ, εἰκάξων 
+τῇδε, ὡς μῦς μὲν ἐν γῆ γίνεται καρπὸν τὸν αὐτὸν 
+ἀνθρώπῳ συτεύµενος, βάτραχος δὲ ἐ ἐν ὕδατι, 6 ὄρνις 
+δὲ μάλιστα ἔοικε ἵππῳ, τοὺς δὲ ,ὀιστοὺς ὡς τὴν 
+ἑωυτῶν ἀλκὴν παραδιδοῦσι. αὕτη μὲν Δαρείῳ 
+ἀπεδέδεκτο ἡ γνώμη. συνεστήκεε δὲ ταύτῃ͵ τῇ 
+γνώμῃ ἡ Γοβρύεω, τῶν ἀνδρῶν τῶν ἑπτὰ ἑνὸς 
+τῶν τὸν Μάγον κατελόντων, εἰκάξοντος τὰ δῶρα 
+λέγειν τ Ἦν μὴ ὄρνιθες γενόμενοι ἀναπτῆσθε ἐς 
+τὸν οὐρανόν, ὦ Πέρσαι, ἢ μύες γενόμενοι. κατὰ 
+τῆς γῆς καταδύητε, ἢ Βάτραχοι γενόμενοι ἐς τὰς 
+λίμνας ἐσπηδήσητε, οὐκ ἀπονοστήσετε ὀπίσω ὑπὸ 
+τῶνδε τῶν τοξευμάτων βαλλόμενοι," 
+
+133. Πέρσαι μὲν δὴ τὰ δῶρα εἴκαξον. 7) δὲ 
+Σκυθέων µία μοῖρα ἡ ταχθεῖσα πρότερον μὲν 
+παρὰ τὴν Μαιῆτιν λύμνην φρουρέειν, τότε δὲ ἐπὶ 
+τὸν Ἴστρον Ἴωσι ἐς λόγους ἐλθεῖν, ὡς ἀπίκετο 
+ἐπὶ τὴν γέφυραν, ἔλεγε τάδε. “ "Ανδρες Ἴωνες, 
+ἐλευθερίην ἥκομεν ὑμῖν φέροντες, ἦν πέρ ye ἐθέ- 
+λητε ἐσακούειν. πυνθανόµεί α γὰρ Δαρεῖον ἐντεί- 
+λασθαι ὑμῖν ἑξήκοντα. ἡμέρας μούνας φρουρή- 
+σαντας τὴν γέφυραν, αὐτοῦ μὴ παραγενομένου ἐν 
+τούτῳ τῷ χρόνῳ, ἀπαλλάσσεσθαι € ἐς τὴν ὑμετέρην. 
+νῦν. ὧν ὑμεῖς τάδε ποιεῦντες ἐκτὸς μὲν ἔσεσθε πρὸς 
+ἐκείνου αἰτίης, ἐκτὸς δὲ πρὸς ἡμέων" τὰς προκει- 
+μένας ἡμέρας παραμείναντες τὸ ἀπὸ τούτου ATAN- 
+λάσσεσθε. οὗτοι μέν νυν ὑποδεξαμένων Ἰώνων 
+ποιήσειν ταῦτα ὀπίσω τὴν ταχίστην ἐπείγοντο. 
+
+
+332 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 131-133 
+
+
+the Persians (he said), if they were clever enough, 
+discover the signification of the presents. 
+
+132. The Persians hearing and taking counsel, 
+Darius’ judgment was that the Scythians were sur- 
+rendering to him themselves and their earth and 
+their water; for he reasoned that a mouse is a 
+creature found in the earth and eating the same 
+produce as men, aud a frog is a creature of the 
+water, and a bird most like to a horse; and the 
+arrows (said he) signified that the Scythians sur- 
+rendered their weapon of battle. This was the 
+opinion declared by Darius; but the opinion of 
+Gobryas, one of the seven who had slain the Magian, 
+was contrary to it. He reasoned that the mean- 
+ing of the gifts was, * Unless you become birds, 
+Persians, and fly up into the sky, or mice and 
+hide you in the earth, or frogs and leap into the 
+lakes, you will be shot by these arrows and never 
+return home." 
+
+133. Thus the Persians reasoned concerning the 
+gifts. But when the first division of the Scythians 
+came to the bridge —that division which had first been 
+appointed to stand on guard by the Maeetian lake 
+and had now been sent to the Ister to speak with the 
+Ionians—they said, * Ionians, we are come to bring 
+you freedom, if you will but listen to us. We learn 
+that Darius has charged you to guard the bridge for 
+sixty days only, and if he comes not within that time 
+then to go away to your homes. Now therefore do 
+that whereby you will be guiltless in his eyes as in 
+ours: abide here for the days appointed, and after 
+that depart." So the Ionians promised to do this, 
+and the Scythians made their way back with all 
+speed. 
+
+
+333 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+134. Πέρσῃσι δὲ μετὰ τὰ δῶρα ἐλθόντα Δαρείῳ 
+ἀντετάχθησαν οἱ ὑπολειφθέντες Σκύθαι πεζῷ καὶ 
+ἵπποισι ὡς συμβαλέοντες.. τεταγμένοισι. δὲ τοῖσι 
+Σκύθῃσι ayes | ἐς τὸ μέσον διήιξε τῶν δὲ ὡς 
+ἕκαστοι ὥρων τὸν λαγὸν ἐδίωκον. ταραχθέντων 
+δὲ τῶν Σκυθέων καὶ βοῇ χρεωμένων, εἴρετο ὃ 
+Δαρεῖος τῶν ἀντιπολεμίων τὸν θόρυβον: mubo- 
+pevos δὲ σφέας τὸν λαγὸν διώκοντας, εἶπε ἄρα 
+πρὸς τούς περ ἐώθεε καὶ τὰ ἄλλα λέγειν. “Οὗτοι 
+ὦνδρες ἡ ἡμέων πολλὸν καταφρονέουσι, καί μοι νῦν. 
+φαίνεται Γοβρύης εἶπαι περὶ τῶν Σκυθικῶν δώρων 
+ὀρθῶς. ὡς ὧν οὕτω ἤδη δοκεόντων καὶ αὐτῷ μοι 
+ἔχειν, βουλῆς ἀγαθῆς δεῖ, ὅ ὅκως ἀσφαλέως ἡ 7) κομιδῆ 
+ἡμῖν ἔσται τὸ ὀπίσω." πρὸς ταῦτα T οβρύη» 
+εἶπε ‘CQ βασιλεῦ, è ἐγὼ σχεδὸν μὲν. καὶ λόγῳ ἦπι- 
+στάμην τούτων τῶν ἀνδρῶν τὴν ἀπορίην, ἐλθὼν 
+δὲ μᾶλλον ἐξέμαθον, ὀρέων. αὐτοὺς ἐμπαίξοντας 
+ἡμῖν. νῦν ὧν μοι δοκέει, ἐπεὰν τάχιστα νὺξ ἐπέλ- 
+θῃ, é ἐκκαύσαντας τὰ πυρὰ ὡς ἑώθαμεν καὶ ἄλλοτε. 
+ποιέειν, τῶν στρατιωτέων τοὺς ἀσθενεστάτους ἐξ 
+τὰς ταλαιπωρίας ἐξαπατήσαντας καὶ τοὺς ὄνους 
+πάντας καταδήσαντας ἀπαλλάσσεσθαι, πρὶν KE 
+καὶ ἐπὶ τὸν Ἴστρον. ἐθῦσαι Σκύθας λύσοντας τὴν 
+γέφυραν, ἢ καί τι "Ἴωσι δόξαι τὸ ἡμέας οἷόν τε. 
+ἔσται ἐξεργάσασθαι." 
+
+135. Γοβρύης μὲν ταῦτα συνεβούλευε. μετὰ 
+δὲ νύξ τε ἐγίνετο καὶ Δαρεῖος ἐχρᾶτο τῇ γνώμη 
+ταύτῃ" τοὺς μὲν καματηροὺς τῶν ἀνδρῶν καὶ τῶ; 
+ἦν ἐλάχιστος ἀπολλυμένων λόγος, καὶ τοὺς ὄνους 
+πάντας καταδήσας κατέλιπε αὐτοῦ ἐν τῷ στρατοὶ 
+πέδῳ. κατέλιπε δὲ τούς τε ὄνους καὶ TOUS άσθε- 
+νέας τῆς στρατιῆς τῶνδε εἵνεκεν, ἵνα οἱ μὲν ὄνοι 
+
+
+334 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 134-135 
+
+
+134. But after the sending of the gifts to Darius, 
+the Scythians who had remained there came out with 
+foot and horse and offered battle to the Persians. 
+But when the Scythian ranks were arrayed, a hare 
+ran out between the armies; and every Scythian 
+that saw it gave chase. So there was confusion and . 
+shouting among the Scythians; Darius asked what 
+the enemy meant by this clamour; and when he 
+heard that they were chasing the hare, then said he (it 
+would seem) to those wherewith he was ever wont to 
+speak, * These fellows hold us in deep contempt ; and 
+I think now that Gobryas' saying concerning the Scy- 
+thian gifts was true. Seeing therefore that my own 
+judgment of the matter is like his, we need to take 
+sage counsel, whereby we shall have a safe return out 
+of the country." To thissaid Gobryas: “Sire, reason 
+showed me well enough how hard it would be to deal 
+
+with these Scythians; and when I came I was made 
+the better aware of it, seeing that they do but make 
+.asport of us. Now therefore my counsel is, that at 
+nightfall we kindle our camp-fires according to our 
+wont, that we deceive those in our army who are 
+least strong to bear hardship, and tether here all our 
+asses, and so ourselves depart, before the Scythians 
+‘ean march straight to the Ister to break the bridge, 
+‘or the Ionians take some resolve whereby we may 
+well be ruined." 
+ὁ 135. This was Gobryas’ advice, and at nightfall 
+Darius followed it. He left there in the camp the 
+men who were weary, and those whose loss imported 
+,east to him, and all the asses too tethered. The 
+reason of his leaving the asses, and the infirm among 
+ibis soldiers, was, as regarding the asses, that they 
+
+
+i+ 
+| 335 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+βοὴν παρέχωνται' οἱ δὲ ἄνθρωποι ἀσθενείης μὲν 
+εἵνεκεν κατελεύποντο, προφάσιος δὲ τῆσδε δηλαδή, 
+ὡς αὐτὸς μὲν σὺν τῷ καθαρῷ τοῦ στρατοῦ ἐπιθή- 
+σεσθαι μέλλοι τοῖσι Σκύθῃσι, οὗτοι δὲ τὸ στρατό- 
+πεδον τοῦτον τὸν χρόνον ῥυοίατο. ταῦτα τοῖσι 
+ὑπολελειμμένοισι ὑποθέμενος ὁ Δαρεῖος καὶ πυρὰ 
+ἐκκαύσας τὴν ταχίστην ἐπείγετο ἐπὶ τὸν Ἴστρον. 
+οἱ δὲ ὄνοι ἐρημωθέντες τοῦ ὁμίλου οὕτω δὴ μᾶλλον 
+πολλῷ ἵεσαν τῆς φωνῆς: ἀκούσαντες δὲ οἱ Σκύθαι 
+τῶν ὄνων πάγχυ κατὰ χώρην ἤλπιζον τοὺς IIép- 
+σας εἶναι. 
+
+136. 'Ημέρης δὲ γενομένης γνόντες οἱ ὑπολει- 
+φθέντες ὡς προδεδοµένοι εἶεν ὑπὸ Δαρείου, χεῖράς 
+τε προετείνοντο τοῖσι Σκύθῃσι καὶ ἔλεγον τὰ 
+κατήκοντα' oi δὲ ὡς ἤκουσαν ταῦτα τὴν ταχίστην 
+συστραφέντες, ai τε δύο μοῖραι τῶν Σκυθέων καὶ 
+ἡ μία καὶ Σαυρομάται καὶ Βουδῖνοι καὶ Γελωνοί, 
+ἐδίωκον τοὺς Πέρσας ἰθὺ τοῦ Ἴστρου. ἅτε δὲ τοῦ 
+Περσικοῦ μὲν τοῦ πολλοῦ ἐόντος πεζοῦ στρατοῦ 
+καὶ τὰς ὁδοὺς οὐκ ἐπισταμένου, ὥστε οὐ τετµη- 
+μενέων τῶν ὁδῶν, τοῦ δὲ Σκυθικοῦ ἱππότεω καὶ 
+τὰ σύντομα τῆς ὁδοῦ ἐπισταμένου, ἁμαρτόντες 
+ἀλλήλων, ἔφθησαν πολλῷ οἱ Σκύθαι τοὺς Πέρσας 
+ἐπὶ τὴν γέφυραν ἀπικόμενοι. μαθόντες δὲ τοὺς 
+Πέρσας οὔκω ἀπιγμένους ἔλεγον πρὸς τοὺς Ἴωνας 
+ἐόντας ἐν that νηυσί '' Άνδρες Ἴωνες, ai τε ἡμέ- 
+ραι ὑμῖν τοῦ ἀριθμοῦ διοίχηνται καὶ οὐ ποιέετε 
+δίκαια ἔτι παραμένοντες. ἀλλ᾽ ἐπεὶ πρότερον 
+δειμαίνοντες ἐμένετε, νῦν λύσαντες τὸν πόρον 
+τὴν ταχίστην ἄπιτε χαίροντες ἐλεύθεροι, θεοῖσί 
+τε καὶ Σκύθῃσι εἰδότες χάριν. τὸν δὲ πρότερον 
+ἐόντα ὑμέων δεσπότην ἡμεῖς παραστησόμεθα 
+
+
+336 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 135-136 
+
+
+might bray; as to the men, they were left by reason 
+of their infirmity, but his pretext was, forsooth, that 
+they should guard the camp while he attacked the 
+Scythians with the sound part of his army. Giving 
+this charge to those who were left behind, and light- 
+ing camp-fires, Darius made all speed to reach the 
+Ister. When the asses found themselves deserted 
+by the multitude, they brayed much the louder 
+for that; and the Scythians by hearing them were 
+fully persuaded that the Persians were still in the 
+same place. 
+
+136. But when day dawned the men left behind 
+perceived that Darius had played them false, and 
+they held out their hands to the Scythians and told 
+them the truth; who, when they heard, gathered 
+their power with all speed, both the two divisions of 
+their host and the one division that was with the 
+Sauromatae and Budini and Geloni, and made 
+straight for the Ister in pursuit of the Persians. But 
+seeing that the Persian army was for the most part 
+of footmen and knew not the roads (these not being 
+marked), whereas the Scythians were horsemen and 
+knew the short cuts, they kept wide of each other, 
+and the Scythians came to the bridge much before 
+the Persians. There, perceiving that the Persians 
+were not yet come, they said to the Ionians, who 
+were in their ships, ** Now, Ionians, the numbered 
+days are past and you do wrongly to remain still 
+here. Nay—for it is fear which has ere now kept 
+you from departing—now break the bridge with all 
+speed and go your ways in freedom and happiness, 
+thanking the gods and the Scythians. As for him 
+that was once your master, we will leave him in such 
+
+
+337 
+
+
+VOL. II. 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οὕτω ὥστε ἐπὶ μηδαμοὺς ἔτι ἀνθρώπους αὐτὸν 
+στρατεύσασθαι.” 
+
+131. Πρὸς ταῦτα Ἴωνες ἐβουλεύοντο. Μιλ- 
+τιάδεω μὲν τοῦ ᾿Αθηναίου, στρατηγέοντος καὶ 
+τυραννεύοντος Χερσονησιτέων τῶν ἐν Ἑλλησπόν- 
+τῷ, ἦν γνώμη πείθεσθαι Σκύθῃσι καὶ ἐλευθεροῦν 
+Ἰωνίην, Ἱστιαίου δὲ τοῦ Μιλησίου ἐναντίη ταύ- 
+τῇ, λέγοντος ὡς νῦν μὲν διὰ Δαρεῖον ἕκαστος 
+αὐτῶν τυραννεύει πόλιος" τῆς Δαρείου δὲ δυνά- 
+. ptos καταιρεθείσης οὔτε αὐτὸς Μιλησίων olds τε 
+ἔσεσθαι à ἄρχειν οὔτε ἄλλον οὐδένα οὐδαμῶν: βου- 
+λήσεσθαι γὰρ ἑκάστην τῶν πολίων δηµοκρατέ. 
+εσθαι μᾶλλον ἡ τυραννεύεσθαι. "Ἱστιαίου δὲ 
+γνώμην ταύτην ἀποδεικνυμένου αὐτίκα πάντες 
+ἦσαν τετραμμένοι πρὸς ταύτην τὴν γνώμην, πρό- 
+τερον τὴν Μιλτιάδεω αἱρεόμενοι. 
+
+138. Ἠσαν δὲ οὗτοι οἱ διαφέροντές τε τὴν 
+ψῆφον καὶ ἐόντες λόγου πρὸς βασιλέος, Ἕλλησ- 
+ποντίων μὲν τύραννοι Δάφνις τε ᾿Αβυδηνὸς καὶ 
+” Ιπποκλος Λαμψακηνὸς καὶ Ἡρόφαντος Παριη- 
+νὸς καὶ Μητρόδωρος Προκοννήσιος καὶ ᾿Ἄριστα- 
+γόρης Κυξικηνὸς καὶ ᾿Αρίστων Βυξάντιος. οὗτοι 
+μὲν ἦσαν οἱ ἐξ Ἑλλησπόντου, ἀπ᾽ Ἰωνίης δὲ 
+Στράττις τε Χῖος καὶ Αἰάκης Σάμιος καὶ Λαοδά- 
+μας Φωκαιεὺς καὶ Ἱστιαῖος Μιλήσιος, τοῦ ἦν 
+γνώμη 7) προκειμένη ἐναντίη τῇ. Μιλτιάδεω. Aito- 
+λέων δὲ παρῆν λόγιμος μοῦνος ᾿Αρισταγόρης 
+Κυμαῖος. 
+
+139. Οὗτοι ὧν ἐπείτε τὴν Ἱστιαίου αἱρέοντο 
+γνώμην, ἔδοξέ σφι πρὸς ταύτῃ τάδε ἔργα τε καὶ 
+ἔπεα προσθεῖναι, τῆς μὲν γεφύρης λύειν τὰ κατὰ 
+τοὺς Σκύθας ἐόντα, λύειν δὲ ὅσον τόξευμα ἐξικνέ- 
+
+
+338 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 136-139 
+
+
+plight that never again will he lead his army against 
+any nation." 
+
+137. Thereupon the Ionians held a council. 
+Miltiades the Athenian, general and despot of 
+the Chersonesites of the Hellespont, gave counsel 
+that they should do as the Scythians said and set 
+Ionia free. But Histiaeus of Miletus held a contrary 
+opinion. “ Now,” said he, “ it is by help of Darius 
+that each of us is sovereign of his city; if Darius' 
+power be overthrown, we shall no longer be able to 
+rule, neither I in Miletus nor any of you elsewhere ; 
+for all the cities will choose democracy rather than 
+despotism.” When Histiaeus declared this opinion, 
+all of them straightway inclined to it, albeit they 
+had first sided with Miltiades. 
+
+138. Those standing high in Darius' favour who 
+gave their vote were Daphnis of Abydos, Hippoclus 
+of Lampsacus, Herophantus of Parium, Metrodorus 
+of Proconnesus, Aristagoras of Cyzicus, Ariston of 
+Byzantium, all from the Hellespont and despots 
+of cities there; and from Ionia, Strattis of Chios, 
+Aiaces of Samos, Laodamas of Phocaea, and Histiaeus 
+of Miletus who opposed the plan of Miltiades. As 
+for the Aeolians, their only notable man present was 
+Aristagoras of Cymae. 
+
+139. These then chose to follow Histiaeus’ 
+counsel, and resolved to make it good by act and 
+word: to break as much of the bridge as reached a 
+bowshot from the Scythian bank, that so they might 
+
+
+339 
+z 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+εται, ἵνα καὶ ποιέειν τι δοκέωσι ποιεῦντες μηδὲν 
+καὶ οἱ Σκύθαι μὴ πειρῴατο βιώμενοι καὶ βουλό- 
+μενοι διαβῆναι τὸν Ἴστρον κατὰ τὴν γέφυραν, 
+εἰπεῖν τε λύοντας τῆς γεφύρης τὸ ἐς τὴν Σκυθικὴν 
+ἔχον ὡς πάντα ποιήσουσι τὰ Σκύθῃσι ἐστὶ ἐν 
+ο ον; ταῦτα μὲν προσέθηκαν τῇ γνώµη" μετὰ 
+δὲ ἐκ πάντων ὑπεκρίνατο Ἱστιαῖος τάδε λέγων. 
+di "Ανδρες Σκύθαι, χρηστὰ ἥκετε «φέροντες καὶ ἐς 
+καιρὸν ἐπείγεσθε: καὶ Tá TE ἀπ' ὑμέων ἡμῖν χρη- 
+στῶς ὁδοῦται καὶ τὰ ἀπ) ἡμέων ἐς ὑμέας ἐπιτη- 
+δέως ἡ ὑπηρετέεται. ὡς γὰρ ὁρᾶτε, καὶ λύομεν τὸν 
+πόρον καὶ προθυμίην πᾶσαν ἕξομεν θέλοντες εἶναι 
+ἐλεύθεροι. ἐν ᾧ δὲ ἡ ἡμεῖς τάδε λύομεν, ὑμέας. και- 
+pos ἐστι δίζησθαι ἐκείνους, εὑρόντας δὲ ὑπέρ τε 
+ἡμέων καὶ ὑμέων αὐτῶν τίσασθαι οὕτω ὡς κεἰνους 
+πρέπει.᾽ 
+
+140. Σκύθαι μὲν τὸ δεύτερον Ἴωσι πιστεύ- 
+σαντες λέγειν ἀληθέα ὑπέστρεφον ἐπὶ ζήτησιν 
+τῶν Ἡερσέων, καὶ ἡμάρτανον πάσης τῆς ἐκείνων 
+διεξόδου. αἴτιοι δὲ τούτου αὐτοὶ οἱ Σκύθαι ἐγέ- 
+νοντο, τὰς νομὰς τῶν ἵππων τὰς ταύτῃ διαφθεί- 
+pavres καὶ τὰ ὕδατα συγχώσαντες. εἰ γὰρ ταῦτα 
+μὴ ἐποίησαν, παρεῖχε ἄν σφι, εἰ ἐθούλοντο, εὖ- 
+πετέως ἐξευρεῖν τοὺς Πέρσας. νῦν δὲ τά σφι 
+ἐδόκεε ἄριστα βεβουλεῦσθαι, κατὰ ταῦτα ἐσφά- 
+Ansav. Σκύθαι μέν νυν τῆς σφετέρης χώρης τῇ 
+χιλός τε τοῖσι ἵπποισι καὶ ὕδατα ἦν, ταύτῃ 
+ἐξιόντες ἐδίζηντο τοὺς ἀντιπολεμίους, δοκέοντες 
+καὶ ἐκείνους διὰ τοιούτων τὴν ἀπόδρησιν ποιέ- 
+εσθαι: οἱ δὲ δὴ Πέρσαι τὸν πρότερον ἑωυτῶν 
+γενόμενον στίβον, τοῦτον φυλάσσοντες ἤισαν, καὶ 
+οὕτω μόγις εὗρον τὸν πόρον. οἷα δὲ νυκτός τε 
+
+
+349 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 139-140 
+
+
+seem to do somewhat when in truth they did 
+nothing, and that the Scythians might not essay to 
+force a passage across the Ister by the bridge ; and 
+to say while they broke the portion of the bridge on 
+the Scythian side, that they would do all that the 
+Scythians desired. This resolve they added to their 
+decision ; and presently Histiaeus answered for them 
+all, and said, ** You have brought us good, Scythians, 
+and your zeal is well timed; you do your part in 
+guiding us aright and we do ours in serving your 
+ends as need requires; for as you see, we are break- 
+ing the passage, and will use all diligence, so much 
+do we desire our freedom. But while we break this 
+bridge, now is the time for you to seek out the 
+Persians, and when you have found them to take 
+such vengeance on our and your behalf as they 
+deserve." 
+
+140. So the Scythians trusted the Ionians’ word 
+once more, and turned back to seek the Persians ; 
+but they mistook the whole way whereby their 
+enemies passed. For this the Scythians themselves 
+were to blame, inasmuch as they had destroyed the 
+horses' grazing-grounds in that region and choked 
+the wells. Had they not so done, they could 
+readily have found the Persians if they would. But 
+as it was, that part of their plan which they had 
+thought the best was the very cause of their ill- 
+success. So the Scythians went searching for their 
+enemies through the parts of their own country 
+where there was provender for horses and water, 
+supposing that they too were aiming at such places 
+in their flight; but the Persians ever kept to their 
+own former tracks, and so with much ado they found 
+the passage of the river. But inasmuch as they 
+
+
+341 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἀπικόμενοι καὶ λελυμένης τῆς γεφύρης ἐντυ- 
+χόντες, ἐς πᾶσαν ἀρρωδίην ἀπίκοντο μή σφεας οἱ 
+Ἴωνες ἔωσι ἀπολελοιπότες. 
+
+141. Ἦν δὲ περὶ Δαρεῖον ἀνὴρ Αἰγύπτιος 
+φωνέων μέγιστον ἀνθρώπων" τοῦτον τὸν ἄνδρα 
+καταστάντα ἐπὶ τοῦ χείλεος τοῦ Ἴστρου ἐκέλευε 
+Δαρεῖος καλέειν “Ἱστιαῖον Μιλήσιον. ὃ μὲν 
+δὴ ἐποίεε ταῦτα, “Ἱστιαῖος δὲ ἐπακούσας τῷ 
+πρώτῳ κελεύσματι τάς τε νέας ἁπάσας παρεῖχε 
+διαπορθμεύειν τὴν στρατιὴν καὶ τὴν γέφυραν 
+ἔξευξε. 
+
+149. Πέρσαι μὲν ὧν οὕτω ἐκφεύγουσι. Σκύ- 
+θαι δὲ διζήμενοι καὶ τὸ δεύτερον ἥμαρτον τῶν 
+Περσέων, καὶ τοῦτο μὲν ὡς ἐόντας Ἴωνας éXev- 
+θέρους κακίστους τε καὶ ἀνανδροτάτους κρίνουσι. 
+εἶναι ἁπάντων ἀνθρώπων, τοῦτο δέ, ὡς δούλων 
+ἐόντων τὸν λόγον ποιεύμενοι, ἀνδράποδα φιλοδέ- 
+σποτα φασὶ εἶναι καὶ ἄδρηστα. ταῦτα μὲν δὴ 
+Σκύθῃσι ἐς Ἴωνας ἀπέρριπται. 
+
+143. Δαρεῖος δὲ διὰ τῆς Θρηίκης πορευόμενος 
+ἀπίκετο ἐς Σηστὸν τῆς Χερσονήσου' ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ 
+αὐτὸς μὲν διέβη τῇσι νηυσὶ ἐς τὴν ᾿Ασίην, λείπει 
+
+ὲ στρατηγὸν ἐν τῇ Εὐρώπη Μεγάβαζον ἄνδρα 
+Iléponv: τῷ Δαρεῖος κοτὲ ἔδωκε γέρας, τοιόνδε 
+εἴπας ἐν Πέρσῃσι ἔπος. ὁρμημένου Δαρείου 
+ῥοιὰς τρώγειν, ὡς ἄνοιξε τάχιστα τὴν πρώτην 
+τῶν ῥοιέων, εἴρετο αὐτὸν ὁ ἀδελφεὸς " Apráflavos 
+ὅ τι βούλοιτ᾽ ἄν οἱ τοσοῦτο πλῆθος γενέσθαι 
+ὅσοι ἐν τῇ ῥοιῇ κόκκοι: Δαρεῖος δὲ εἶπε Μεγαβά- 
+ζους ἄν οἱ τοσούτους ἀριθμὸν γενέσθαι βούλεσθαι 
+μᾶλλον ἢ τὴν Ἑλλάδα ὑπήκοον. ἐν μὲν δὴ 
+Πέρσῃσι ταῦτά μιν εἴπας ἐτίμα, τότε δὲ αὐτὸν 
+
+
+342 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 140-143 
+
+
+came to it at night and found the bridge broken, 
+they were in great terror lest the Ionians had 
+abandoned them. 
+
+141. There was with Darius an Egyptian, whose 
+voice was the loudest in the world ; Darius bade this 
+man stand on the Ister bank and call to Histiaeus 
+the Milesian. This the Egyptian did; Histiaeus 
+heard and obeyed the first shout, and sent all the 
+ships to ferry the army over, and made the bridge 
+anew. | 
+142. Thus the Persians escaped. The Scythians 
+sought the Persians, but missed them again. Their 
+judgment of the Ionians is that if they are free 
+men they are the basest cravens in the world; but 
+if they are to be reckoned as slaves, none would 
+love their masters more, or less desire to escape. 
+Thus have the Scythians taunted the Ionians. 
+
+143. Darius marched through Thrace to Sestos on 
+the Chersonesus; thence he crossed over with his 
+ships to Asia, leaving as his general in Europe 
+Megabazus, a Persian, to whom he once did honour 
+by saying among Persians what I here set down. 
+Darius was about to eat pomegranates ; and no sooner 
+had he opened the first of them than his brother 
+Artabanus asked him of what thing he would wish to 
+have as many as there were seeds in his pomegranate ; 
+whereupon Darius said, that he would rather have 
+that number of men like Megabazus than make all 
+Hellas subject to him. By thus speaking among 
+Persians the king did honour to Megabazus; and 
+
+
+343 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὕπελιπε στρατηγὸν ἔχοντα τῆς στρατιῆς τῆς 
+ἑωυτοῦ ὀκτὼ μυριάδας. 
+
+144. Οὗτος δὲ ὁ Μεγάβαξος εἴπας τόδε τὸ ἔπος 
+ἐλίπετο ἀθάνατον μνήμην πρὸς Ἑλλησποντίων. 
+γενόμενος γὰρ ἐν Βυξαντίῳ ἐπύθετο ἑπτακαίδεκα 
+ἔτεσι πρότερον Καλχηδονίους κτίσαντας τὴν χώ- 
+ρην Βυζαντίων, πυθόμενος δὲ ἔφη Καλχηδονίους 
+τοῦτον τὸν χρόνον τυγχάνειν ἐόντας τυφλούς; οὐ 
+γὰρ ἂν τοῦ καλλίονος ὧπαρεόντος κτίξειν χώρου 
+τὸν αἰσχίονα ἑλέσθαι, εἰ μὴ ἦσαν τυφλοί. οὗτος 
+δὴ ὦ ὧν τότε ὁ Μεγάβαξος στρατηγὸς ee ἐν 
+τῇ χώρῃ Ἑλλησποντίων τοὺς μὴ μηδίξοντας 
+κατεστρέφετο. 
+
+145. Οὗτος μέν. νυν ταῦτα ἔπρησσε. τὸν aù- 
+τὸν δὲ τοῦτον χρόνον ἐγίνετο ἐπὶ Λιβύην ἄλλος 
+: στρατιῆς μέγας στόλος, διὰ πρόφασιν τὴν ἐγὼ 
+ἀπηγήσομαι προ ιηγησάμενος πρότερον τάδε. τῶν 
+ἐκ τῆς ᾿Αργοῦς ἐπιβατέων παίδων παῖδες ἐξελα- 
+σθέντες ἱὶ ὑπὸ Πελασγῶν τῶν ἐκ Βραυρῶνος Anisa- 
+µένων τὰς ᾿Αθηναίων γυναῖκας, ὑπὸ τούτων éte- 
+λασθέντες ἐκ Λήμνου οἴχοντο πλέοντες ἐς Λακε- 
+δαίμονα, ἱζόμενοι δὲ ἐν τῴ Τηὐγέτῳ πῦρ ἀνέκαιον. 
+Λακεδαιμόνιοι δὲ ἰδόντες. ἄγγελον ἔπεμπον πευσό- 
+μενοι τίνες τε καὶ ὁκόθεν εἰσί’ of δὲ τῷ ἀγγέλῳ 
+εἰρωτῶντι ἔλεγον ὡς εἴησαν μὲν Μινύαι, παῖδες 
+δὲ εἶεν τῶν ἐν τῇ ᾿Αργοῖ πλεόντων ἡρώων, προσ- 
+σχόντας δὲ τούτους ἐς .Μῆμνον φυτεῦσαι σφέας. 
+οἱ δὲ Λακεδαιμόνιοι ἀκηκοότες τὸν λόγον τῆς 
+γενεῆς τῶν Μινυέων, πέμψαντες τὸ δεύτερον 
+εὐρώτων τί θέλοντες ἥκοιέν τε ἐς τὴν χώρην καὶ 
+πῦρ αἴθοιεν. ot δὲ ἔφασαν ὑπὸ Πελασγῶν 
+ἐκβληθέντες ἥκειν ἐς τοὺς πατέρας" δικαιότατον 
+
+
+344 . 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 143-145 
+
+
+now he left him behind as his general, at the head 
+of eighty thousand of his army. 
+
+144. This Megabazus is for ever remembered by 
+the people of the Hellespont for his saying—when, 
+being at Byzantium, he was told that the people of 
+Calchedon had founded their town seventeen years 
+before the Byzantines had founded theirs—that the 
+Calchedonians must at that time have been blind; 
+for had they not been so, they would never have 
+chosen the meaner site for their city when they 
+might have had the fairer. This Megabazus, being 
+now left as general in the country, subdued all the 
+people of the Hellespont who did not take the side 
+of the Persians. 
+
+145. Thus Megabazus did. About this time a 
+great armament was sent against Libya also, for 
+a reason which I will show after this story which 
+I will now relate. The descendants of the crew 
+of the Argo had been driven out by those Pelas- 
+gians who carried off the Athenian women from 
+Brauron ; being driven out of Lemnos by these, they 
+sailed away to Lacedaemon, and there encamped on 
+Taygetum and kindled a fire. Seeing this, the 
+Lacedaemonians sent a messenger to enquire who 
+they were and whence they came. They answered 
+the messenger that they were Minyae, descendants 
+of the heroes who had sailed in the Argo, and had 
+put in at Lemnos and there begotten their race. 
+Hearing the story of the lineage of the Minyae, the 
+Lacedaemonians sent a second time and asked to 
+what end they had come into Laconia and kindled a 
+fire. They replied, that being expelled by the 
+Pelasgians they had come to the land of their fathers, 
+
+
+345 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+γὰρ εἶναι οὕτω τοῦτο γίνεσθαι" δέεσθαι δὲ οἰκέειν 
+ἅμα τούτοισι μοῖράν τε τιµέων μετέχοντες καὶ τῆς 
+
+- 2 , L4 \ υ lA 
+γῆς ἀπολαχόντες. Λακεδαιμονίοισι δὲ ἕαδε δέ- 
+
+. 4 » 9 / > ld 
+
+κεσθαι τοὺς Μινύας én’ οἷσι θέλουσι αὐτοί. 
+μάλιστα δὲ ἐνῆγε σφέας ὥστε ποιέειν ταῦτα τῶν 
+Τυνδαριδέων ἡ ναυτιλίη ἐν τῇ ᾿Αργοῖ. δεξάμενοι 
+δὲ τοὺς Μινύας γῆς τε μετέδοσαν καὶ ἐς φυλὰς 
+διεδάσαντο. of δὲ αὐτίκα μὲν γάμους ἔγημαν, 
+τὰς δὲ ἐκ Λήμνου ἤγοντο ἐξέδοσαν ἄλλοισι. 
+
+146. Χρόνου δὲ οὐ πολλοῦ διεξελθόντος αὐτίκα 
+οἱ Μινύαι ἐξύβρισαν, τῆς τε βασιληίης µεταιτέ- 
+
+» / , Ld ^ 9 
+
+οντες καὶ ἄλλα ποιέοντε οὐκ ὅσια. τοῖσι ὧν 
+Λακεδαιμονίοισι ἔδοξε αὐτοὺς ἀποκτεῖναι, συλ. 
+λαβόντες δὲ σφέας κατέβαλον ἐς ἑρκτήν. κτεί- 
+νουσι δὲ τοὺς ἂν κτείνωσι Λακεδαιμόνιοι νυκτός, 
+μετ᾽ ἡμέρην δὲ οὐδένα. ἐπεὶ ὧν ἔμελλον σφέας 
+καταχρήσασθαι, παραιτήσαντο αἱ γυναῖκες τῶν 
+Μινυέων, ἐοῦσαι ἀσταί τε καὶ τῶν πρώτων Σπαρ- 
+τιητέων θυγατέρες, ἐσελθεῖν τε ἐς τὴν ἑρκτὴν καὶ 
+9 , 3 ^ e 4 ^ e ^ 3 , A . 
+ἐς λόγους ἐλθεῖν ἑκάστη τῷ ἑωυτῆς ἀνδρί. οἳ δὲ 
+
+’ - 2/07 4 , > , r 
+σφέας παρῆκαν, οὐδένα δόλον δοκέοντες ἐξ αὐτέων 
+vy A \ 9 , H ^ , ΄ 
+ἔσεσθαι. ai δὲ ἐπείτε ἐσῆλθον, ποιέουσι τοιάδε" 
+πᾶσαν τὴν εἶχον ἐσθῆτα παραδοῦσαι τοῖσι ἀν- 
+δράσι αὐταὶ τὴν τῶν ἀνδρῶν ἔλαβον, οἱ δὲ Μινύαι 
+ἐνδύντες τὴν γυναικηίην ἐσθῆτα ἅτε γυναῖκες 
+3 la »y 3 , . , ΄ [rd 
+ἐξήισαν ἔξω, ἐκφυγόντες δὲ τρόπῳ τοιούτῳ ἵζοντο 
+αὖτις ἐς τὸ Τηὔγετον. 
+
+141. Tov δὲ αὐτὸν τοῦτον χρόνον Θήρας ὁ 
+346 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 145-147 
+
+
+as (they said) was most just; and for their desire, it 
+was that they might dwell with their father's people, 
+sharing in their rights and receiving allotted parcels 
+of land. It pleased the Lacedaemonians to receive 
+the Minyae 1 on the terms which their guests desired ; 
+the chief cause of their so consenting was that the 
+Tyndaridae ? had been in the ship's company of the 
+Argo; so they received the Minyae and gave them 
+of their land and divided them among their own 
+tribes. The Minyae forthwith wedded wives, and 
+gave in marriage to others the women they had 
+brought from Lemnos. 
+
+146. But in no long time these Minyae waxed 
+over-proud, demanding an equal right to the king- 
+ship, and doing other things unlawful; wherefore 
+the Lacedaemonians resolved to slay them, and they 
+seized and cast them into prison. (When the Lace- 
+daemonians kill, they do it by night, never by day.) 
+Now when they were about to kill the prisoners, 
+the wives of the Minyae, who were native to the 
+country, daughters of the chief among the Spartans, 
+entreated leave to enter the prison and have speech 
+each with her husband; the Lacedaemonians 
+granted this, supposing that the women would deal 
+honestly with them. But when the wives came into 
+the prison, they gave to their husbands all their 
+own garments, and themselves put on the men's 
+dress; so the Minyae donned the female dress and 
+so passed out in the guise of women, and having 
+thus escaped once more encamped on '"l'aygetum. 
+
+147. Now about this same time Theras (who was 
+
+
+1 As descendants of the Argonauts, who were Minyae of 
+Thessaly, living near the Pagasaean gulf. 
+* Castor and Polydeuces. 
+
+
+347 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Αὐτεσίωνος τοῦ Τισαμενοῦ τοῦ Θερσάνδρου τοῦ 
+/ P d 9 , / 3 / 
+Πολυνείκεος ἔστελλε ἐς ἀποικίην ἐκ Λακεδαί- 
+Φ δὲ e e / a / 3*4 K ὃ - 
+μονος. ἦν δὲ ὁ Θήρας οὗτος, γένος ἐὼν Καδμεῖος, 
+τῆς μητρὸς ἀδελφεὸς τοῖσι ᾿Αριστοδήμου παισὶ 
+Εὐρυσθένεϊῖ καὶ Προκλέι. ἐόντων δὲ ἔτι τῶν 
+, M , 
+παίδων τούτων νηπίων ἐπιτροπαίην εἶχε ὁ Θήρας 
+τὴν ἐν Σπάρτη βασιληίην. αὐξηθέντων δὲ τῶν 
+A 
+ἀδελφιδέων kai παραλαβόντων τὴν ἀρχήν, οὕτω 
+δὴ ὁ Θήρας δεινὸν ποιεύμενος ἄρχεσθαι ὑπ᾽ ἄλ- 
+λων ἐπείτε ἐγεύσατο ἀρχῆς, οὐκ ἔφη μένειν ἐν τῇ 
+. 
+Λακεδαίμονι ἀλλ᾽ ἀποπλεύσεσθαι ἐς τοὺς cvy- 
+γενέάς. ἦσαν δὲ ἐν τῇ νῦν Θήρη καλεομένῃ 
+νήσῳ, πρότερον δὲ Καλλίστῃ τῇ αὐτῆ ταύτῃ, 
+- ^^ A 
+ἀπόγονοι Μεμβλιάρου τοῦ Ποικίλεω ἀνδρὸς Poi- 
+ϱ 9 , 
+νικος. Κάδμος γὰρ ὁ ᾿Αγήνορος Εὐρώπην διζή- 
+μενος προσέσχε ἐς τὴν νῦν Θήρην καλεομένην" 
+προσσχόντι δὲ εἴτε δή οἱ ἡ χώρη ἤρεσε, εἴτε καὶ 
+ἄλλως ἠθέλησε ποιῆσαι τοῦτο' καταλείπει γὰρ 
+ἐν τῇ νήσῳ ταύτῃ ἄλλους τε τῶν Φοινίκων καὶ δὴ 
+καὶ τῶν ἑωυτοῦ συγγενέων Μεμβλίαρον. οὗτοι 
+ἐνέμοντο τὴν Καλλίστην καλεομένην ἐπὶ γενεάς, 
+ΔΝ A , 3 ^ 3 / , \ 3 Lol 
+πρὶν ἢ Θήραν ἐλθεῖν ἐκ Λακεδαίμονος, ὀκτὼ ἀνδρῶν. 
+3 \ / \ = / . y 
+148. “Eat τούτους δὴ ὧν ὁ Θήρας λεὼν ἔχων 
+ἀπὸ τῶν φυλέων ἔστελλε, συνοικήσων τούτοισι 
+» ^ , ^ , 4 , \ 4 , ΄ 
+καὶ οὐδαμῶς ἐξελῶν αὐτοὺς ἀλλὰ κάρτα οἰκηιεύ- 
+μενος. ἐπείτε δὲ καὶ οἱ Μινύαι ἐκδράντες ἐκ τῆς 
+ἑρκτῆς ἴξοντο ἐς τὸ Τηύγετον, τῶν Λακεδαιμονίων 
+Βουλευομένων σφέας ἀπολλύναι παραιτέεται ὁ 
+Θήρας, ὅκως μήτε φόνος γένηται, αὐτός τε ὑπε- 
+δέκετο σφέας ἐξάξειν ἐκ τῆς χώρης. συγχω- 
+ρησάντων δὲ τῇ γνώμῃ τῶν Λακεδαιμονίων, τρισὶ 
+τριηκοντέροισι ἐς τοὺς Μεμβλιάρου ἀπογόνους 
+
+
+348 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 147-148 
+
+
+a descendant of Polynices, through Thersander, 
+Tisamenus, and Autesion) was preparing to lead out 
+colonists from Lacedaemon. This Theras was of the 
+lineage of Cadmus and an uncle on the mother's side 
+of Aristodemus' sons Eurysthenes and Procles; and 
+while these boys were yet children he held the royal 
+power of Sparta as regent; but when his nephews 
+grew up and became kings, then Theras could not 
+brook to be a subject when he had had a taste of 
+supreme power, and said he would abide no longer 
+in Lacedaemon but sail away to his kinsfolk. There 
+were in the island now called Thera, but then Calliste, 
+descendants of Membliarus the son of Poeciles, a 
+Phoenician ; for Cadmus son of Agenor, in his search 
+for Europa, had put in at the place now called Thera ; 
+and having put in, either because the land pleased 
+him, or because for some other reason he desired so 
+to do, he left in this island, among other Phoenicians, 
+his own kinsman Membliarus. These dwelt in the 
+island Calliste for eight generations before Theras 
+came from Lacedaemon. 
+
+148. It was these whom Theras was preparing to 
+join, taking with him a company of people from the 
+tribes; it was his intent to settle among the folk of 
+Calliste,and not to drive them out but to claim them as 
+verily his own people. So when the Minyae escaped 
+out of prison and encamped on Taygetum, and the 
+Lacedaemonians were taking counsel to put them to 
+death, Theras entreated for their lives, that there 
+might be no killing, promising himself to lead them 
+out of the country. The Lacedaemonians consenting 
+to this, Theras sailed with three fifty-oared ships to 
+join the descendants of Membliarus, taking with him 
+
+
+349 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἔπλωσε, οὔτι πάντας ἄγων τοὺς Μινύας ἀλλ᾽ 
+ὀλίγους τινάς. οἱ γὰρ πλεῦνες αὐτῶν ἐτράποντο 
+ἐς τοὺς Ἡαρωρεάτας καὶ Καύκωνας, τούτους δὲ 
+ἐξελάσαντες ἐ ἐκ τῆς χώρης σφέας αὐτοὺς ἓξ μοίρας 
+διεῖλον, καὶ ἔπειτα ἔκτισαν πόλιας τάσδε ἐν aù- 
+τοῖσι, Λέπρεον; Μάκιστον Φρίξας Ἠύργον Ἔπιον 
+Νούδιον. τουτέων δὲ τὰς πλεῦνας em ἐμέο ᾿Ηλεῖοι 
+ἐπόρθησαν. 6 τῇ δὲ νήσῳ ἐπὶ τοῦ οἰκιστέω Θήρα 
+ἡ ἐπωνυμίη ἐγένετο. 
+
+149. Ὁ δὲ παῖς οὐ γὰρ ἔφη οἱ συμπλεύσεσθαι, 
+τοιγαρῶν. ἔφη αὐτὸν καταλείψειν ὄιν ἐν λύκοισι. 
+ἐπὶ τοῦ ἔπεος τούτου. οὔνομα τῷ νεηνίσκῳ τούτῳ 
+-Ὀϊόλυκος ἐγένετο, καί κως τὸ οὔνομα τοῦτο ἐπε- 
+κράτησε. Οἰολύκου δὲ γίνεται Αἰγεύς, ἐπ᾽ οὗ 
+Αἰγεῖδαι καλέονται φυλὴ μεγάλη ἐν Σπάρτῃ. 
+τοῖσι δὲ ἐν τῇ φυλῇ, ταύτη ἀνδράσι οὐ γὰρ ὑπέ- 
+μειναν τὰ τέκνα, ἱδρύσαντο é ἐκ θεοπροπίου Ἐρινύων 
+τῶν Λαΐου. τε καὶ Οἰδιπόδεω i -ὁρόν" καὶ μετὰ τοῦτο 
+ὑπέμειναν: m τὠυτὸ τοῦτο καὶ ἐν Θήρῃ τοῖσι 
+ἀπὸ τῶν ἀνδρῶν τούτων γεγονόσι. 
+
+150. Μέχρι μέν νυν τούτου τοῦ λόγου Λακε- 
+δαιμόνιοι Θηραίοισι κατὰ ταὐτὰ λέγουσι, τὸ δὲ 
+ἀπὸ τούτου μοῦνοι Θηραῖοι ὧδε γενέσθαι λέγουσι. 
+Trot pivvos ὁ Αἰσανίου ἐὼν Θήρα τούτου ἀπόγονος 
+καὶ βασιλεύων Θήρης τῆς νήσου ἀπίκετο ἐς Δελ- 
+φούς, ἄγων ἀπὸ τῆς πόλιος ἑκατόωβην' εἴποντο 
+δέ οἱ καὶ ἄλλοι τῶν πολιητέων καὶ δὴ καὶ Βάττος 
+
+
+1 Something is obviously lost, συνέβη δέ or the like. 
+
+
+1 These six towns were in the western Peloponnese, in 
+Triphylia, a district between Elis and Messenia. 
+2 Literally ‘‘ sheep-wolf.” 
+
+
+35° 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 148-150 
+
+
+not all the Minyae but a few only; for the greater 
+part of them made their way to the lands of the 
+Paroreatae and Caucones, whom having driven out 
+of the country they divided themselves into six 
+companies and founded in the land they had won 
+the cities of Lepreum, Macistus, Phrixae, Pyrgus, 
+Epium, Nudium;! most of which were in my time 
+taken and sacked by the Eleans. As for the island 
+Calliste, it was called Thera after its colonist. 
+
+149. But as Theras’ son would not sail with him, 
+his father therefore said that he would leave him 
+behind as a sheep among wolves; after which saying 
+the stripling got the nickname of Oeolycus,? and it 
+so fell out that this became his customary name. He 
+had a son born to him, Aegeus, from whom the 
+Aegidae, a great Spartan clan, take their name. 
+The men of this clan, finding that none of their 
+children lived, set up, by the instruction of an 
+oracle, a temple of the avenging spirits of Laius 
+and Oedipus,’ after which the children lived. Thus 
+it fared also with the children of the Aegidae at 
+Thera. | 
+
+150. Thus far in my story the Lacedaemonian 
+and Theraean records agree; for the rest we have 
+only the word of the Theraeans.  Grinnus son of 
+Aesanius, king of Thera, a descendant of this same 
+Theras, came to Delphi bringing an hecatomb from 
+his city ; there came with him, among others of his 
+
+
+? Oedipus, son of Laius king of Thebes and his wife 
+Iocasta, was exposed in infancy, but rescued and carried 
+away to a far country. Returning in manhood, ignorant of 
+his lineage, he killed his father and married his mother; 
+after which the truth was revealed to him, too late. The 
+story is first told by Homer, and is the subject of the 
+Oedipus Tyrannus of Sophocles 
+
+
+351 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὁ ᾿Ἠολυμνήστου, ἐὼν γένος Εὐφημίδης τῶν Μιν- 
+υέων. χρεωμένῳ δὲ τῷ Γρίννῳ τῷ βασιλέι τῶν 
+ea περὶ ἄλλων χρᾷ 7 Πυθίη κτίξειν ἐν 
+
+Λιβύη πόλιν. ὃ δὲ apei ετο λέγων «᾿Εγὼ μὲν 
+ὦναξ πρεσβύτερός τε ἤδη εἰμὶ καὶ Papis ἀεί- 
+ρεσθαι" σὺ δὲ τινὰ τῶνδε τῶν νεωτέρων κέλευε 
+ταῦτα ποιέειν.᾽ ἅμα τε ἔλεγε ταῦτα καὶ ἐδείκνυε 
+ἐς τὸν Βάττον. τότε μὲν τοσαῦτα. μετὰ δὲ 
+ἀπελθόντες ἀλογίην εἶχον τοῦ χρηστηρίου, οὔτε 
+Λιβύην εἰδότες ὅκου γῆς εἴη οὔτε τολμῶντες ἐς 
+ἀφανὲς χρῆμα ἀποστέλλειν ἀποικίην. 
+
+151. Ἑπτὰ δὲ ἐτέων μετὰ ταῦτα οὐκ ve τὴν 
+Θήρην, ἐν τοῖσι τὰ δένδρεα πάντα σφι τὰ ἐν τῇ 
+νήσῳ πλὴν ἑνὸς ἐξαυάνθη. χρεωμένοισι δὲ τοῖσι 
+Θηραίοισι προέφερε 7) Πυθίη τὴν ἐς Λιβύην à ἀποι- 
+κίην. ἐπείτε δὲ κακοῦ οὐδὲν ἦν σφι μῆχος, πέμ- 
+πουσι ἐς .Κρήτην ἀγγέλους διξηµένους εἴ τις 
+Κρητῶν ἢ μετοίκων ἀπιγμένος εἴη. ἐς Λιβύην. 
+περιπλανώμενοι δὲ αὐτὴν οὗτοι ἀπίκοντο καὶ ἐς 
+"Iravov πόλιν, ἐν ταύτῃ δὲ συμμίσγουσι ἀνδρὶ 
+πορφυρέι τῷ οὔνομα ἦν Κορώβιος, ὃς ἔφη ὑπ' 
+ἀνέμων ἀπενειχθεὶς ἀπικέσθαι ἐς Λιβύην καὶ 
+Λιβύης ἐς Πλατέαν νῆσον. μισθῷ δὲ τοῦτον 
+πείσαντες ἦγον ἐς Θήρην, ἐκ δὲ Θήρης ἔπλεον 
+κατάσκοποι ἄνδρες τὰ πρῶτα οὐ πολλοί" κατη- 
+γησαμένου δὲ τοῦ Κο ωβίου ἐ ἐς τὴν νῆσον ταύτην 
+δὴ τὴν Πλατέαν, τὸν μὲν Κορώβιον λείπουσι, 
+σιτία καταλιπόντες ὅσων δὴ μηνῶν, αὐτοὶ δὲ 
+ἔπλεον τὴν ταχίστην ἀπαγγελέοντες Θηραίοισι 
+περὶ τῆς νήσου. 
+
+153. ᾽Αποδημεόντων δὲ τούτων πλέω χρόνον 
+τοῦ συγκειμένου τὸν Κορώβιον ἐπέλιπε τὰ πάντα. 
+
+
+352 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 150-152 
+
+
+people, Battus son of Polymnestus, a descendant of 
+Euphemus of the Minyan clan. When Grinnus king 
+of Thera inquired of the oracle concerning other 
+matters, the priestess answer was that he should 
+found a city in Libya. “Nay, Lord," answered 
+Grinnus, “I am grown old and heavy to stir; do 
+thou lay this command on some one of these younger 
+men," pointing as he spoke to Battus. No more 
+was then said. But when they had departed, they 
+neglected to obey the oracle, seeing that they knew 
+not where Libya was, and feared to send a colony 
+out to an uncertain goal. 
+
+151. Then for seven years after this there was no 
+rain in Thera ; all their trees in the island save one 
+were withered. The Theraeans inquired again at 
+Delphi, and the priestess made mention of the 
+colony they should send to Libya. So since there 
+was no remedy for their ills, they sent messengers 
+to Crete to seek out any Cretan or sojourner there 
+who had travelled to Libya. These, in their journeys 
+about the island, came to the town of Itanus, where 
+they met a trader in purple called Corobius, who 
+told them that he had once been driven out of his 
+course by winds to Libya, to an island there called. 
+Platea.! This man they hired to come with them to 
+Thera; thence but a few men were first sent on 
+shipboard to spy out the land, who, being guided by 
+Corobius to the aforesaid island Platea, left him there 
+with provision for 1 know not how many months, and 
+themselves sailed back with all speed to Thera to 
+bring news of the island. 
+
+152. But when they had been away for longer 
+than the agreed time, and Corobius had no provision 
+
+
+1 The island now called Bomba, east of Cyrene. 
+
+
+353 
+
+
+VOL. 11. A A 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα νηῦς Σαμίη, τῆς ναύκληρος ἦν 
+Κωλαῖος, πλέουσα ἐπ᾽ Αἰγύπτου ἀπηνείχθη ἐς 
+τὴν Πλατέαν ταύτην' πυθόμενοι δὲ οἱ Σάμιοι 
+παρὰ τοῦ Κορωβίου τὸν πάντα λόγον, σιτία οἱ 
+ἐνιαυτοῦ καταλείπουσι. αὐτοὶ δὲ ἀναχθέντες ἐκ 
+τῆς νήσου καὶ γλιχόμενοι Αἰγύπτου ἔπλεον, ἀπο. 
+φερόμενοι ἀπηλιώτη ἀνέμῳ' καὶ οὐ γὰρ ἀνίει τὸ 
+πνεῦμα, Ἡρακλέας στήλας διεκπερήσαντες ἀπί- 
+κοντο ἐς Ταρτησσόν, θείῃ πομπῇ .Χρεώμενοι.͵ τὸ 
+δὲ € ἐμπόριον τοῦτο ἦν ἆ ἀκήρατον . τοῦτον τὸν χρόνον, 
+ὥστε ἀπονοστήσαντες οὗτοι ὀπίσω μέγιστα δὴ 
+Ἑλλήνων πάντων τῶν ἡμεῖς ἀτρεκείην ἴδμεν ἐκ 
+φορτίων ἐκέρδησαν, μετά γε Σώστρατον τὸν 
+Λαοδάμαντος Αὐγινήτην: τούτῳ γὰρ οὐκ οἷά τε 
+ἐστὶ ἐρίσαι ἄλλον. οἱ δὲ Σάμιοι τὴν δεκάτην τῶν 
+ἐπικερδίων ἐξελόντες e£ τάλαντα ἐποιήσαντο 
+χαλκήιον κρητῆρος ᾿Αργολικοῦ τρόπον" πέριξ δὲ 
+αὐτοῦ γρυπῶν. κεφαλαὶ. πρόκροσσοι εἰσί" καὶ 
+ἀνέθηκαν ἐς rò” H patov, ὑποστήσαντες αὐτῷ τρεῖς 
+χαλκέους κολοσσοὺς ἑπταπήχεας τοῖσι γούνασι 
+ἐρηρεισμένους. Κυρηναίοισι δὲ καὶ Θηραίοισι € ἐς 
+αμίους ἀπὸ τούτου τοῦ ἔργου πρῶτα. φιλίαι 
+μεγάλαι συνεκρήθησαν. 
+
+155. Οἱ δὲ Θηραῖοι. ἐπείτε τὸν Κορώβιον At- 
+πόντες ἐν τῇ νήσῳ ἀπίκοντο ἐς τὴν Θήρην, à ἁπήγ- 
+γελλον ὥς σφι εἴη νῆσος ἐπὶ Λιβύῃ. ἐκτισμένη. 
+Θηραίοισι δὲ ἕαδε ἀδελφεόν τε ἀπ᾽ ἀδελφεοῦ 
+πέμπειν πάλῳ λαγχάνοντα καὶ ἀπὸ τῶν χώρων 
+ἁπάντων ἑπτὰ ἐόντων ἄνδρας, εἶναι δὲ σφέων καὶ 
+ἡγεμόνα καὶ βασιλέα Βάττον. οὕτω δὴ στέλ- 
+λουσι δύο πεντηκοντέρους ἐς τὴν Πλατέαν. 
+
+154, Ταῦτα δὲ Θηραῖοι λέγουσι, τὰ δ᾽ ἐπίλοιπα 
+
+
+354 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 152-154 
+
+
+left, a Samian ship sailing for Egypt, whereof the 
+captain was Colaeus, was driven out of her course to 
+Platea, where the Samians heard the whole story 
+from Corobius and left him provision for a year; 
+they then put out to sea from the island and would 
+have voyaged to Egypt, but an easterly wind drove 
+them from their course, and ceased not till they had 
+passed through the Pillars of Heracles and came (by 
+heaven's providence) to Tartessus. Now this was at 
+that time a virgin! port; wherefore the Samians 
+brought back from it so great a profit on their wares 
+as no Greeks ever did of whom we have any exact 
+knowledge, save only Sostratus of Aegina, son of 
+Laodamas ; with him none could vie. The Samians 
+took six talents, the tenth part of their profit, and 
+made therewith a bronze vessel, like an Argolic 
+cauldron, with griffins’ heads projecting from the rim 
+all round; this they set up in their temple of Here, 
+supporting it with three colossal kneeling figures 
+of bronze, each seven cubits high. This that the 
+Samians had done was the beginning of a close 
+friendship between them and the men of Cyrene and | 
+Thera. | 
+
+153. As for the Theraeans, when they came to 
+Thera after leaving Corobius on the island, they 
+brought word that they had founded a settlement 
+on an island off Libya. The Theraeans resolved to 
+send out men from their seven regions, taking by 
+lot one of every pair of brothers, and making Battus 
+leader and king of all Then they manned two 
+fifty-oared ships and sent them to Platea. | 
+
+154. This is what the Theraeans say; and now 
+
+
+.1 That is, as yet unvisited by Greeks. It was at or near 
+the mouth of the Guadalquivir; cp. 1. 163. | 
+
+
+355 
+
+
+AA 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τοῦ λόγου συμφέρονται ἤδη Θηραῖοι Κυρηναίοισι. 
+Κυρηναῖοι γὰρ τὰ περὶ Βάττον οὐδαμῶς ὁμολο- 
+γέουσι Θηραίοισι' λέγουσι γὰρ οὕτω. ἔστι τῆς 
+Κρήτης ᾿Οαξὸς πόλις, ἐν τῇ ἐγένετο ᾿Ετέαρχος 
+βασιλεύς, ὃς ἐπὶ θυγατρὶ ἀμήτορι τῇ οὔνομα ἦν 
+Φρονίμη, ἐπὶ ταύτῃ ἔγημε ἄλλην γυναῖκα. ἢ δὲ 
+ἐπεσελθοῦσα ἐδικαίου καὶ τῷ ἔργῳ εἶναι μητρυιὴ 
+τῇ Φρονύμη, παρέχουσά τε κακὰ καὶ πᾶν ἐπ᾽ αὐτῇ 
+μηχανωμένη, καὶ τέλος μαχλοσύνην ἐπενείκαο:ι 
+οἱ πείθει τὸν ἄνδρα ταῦτα ἔχειν οὕτω. ὃ δὲ 
+ἀναγνωσθεὶς" ὑπὸ τῆς γυναικὸς ἔργον οὐκ ὅσιον 
+ἐμηχανᾶτο ἐπὶ τῇ θυγατρί. ἦν γὰρ δὴ Θεμίσων 
+ἀνὴρ Θηραῖος ἔμπορος ἐν τῇ Ὀαξῷ' τοῦτον 0 
+᾿Ετέαρχος παραλαβὼν ἐπὶ ξείνια ἐξορκοῖ ἡ μέν οἱ 
+διηκονήσειν ὅ τι ἂν δεηθῇ. ἐπεύτε δὴ ἐξώρκωσε, 
+ἀγαγών οἱ παραδιδοῖ τὴν ἑωυτοῦ θυγατέρα καὶ 
+ταύτην ἐκέλευε καταποντῶσαι ἀπαγαγόντα. 0 
+δὲ Θεμίσων περιημεκτήσας τῇ ἀπάτῃ τοῦ ὅρκου 
+καὶ διαλυσάμενος τὴν ξεινίην ἐποίεε τοιάδε' Tapa- 
+λαβὼν τὴν παῖδα ἀπέπλεε: ὡς δὲ ἐγίνετο ἐν τῷ 
+πελάγεϊ, ἀποσιεύμενος τὴν ἐξόρκωσιν τοῦ 'Ere- 
+ápxov, σχοινίοισι αὐτὴν διαδήσας κατῆκε ἐς τὸ 
+πέλαγος, ἀνασπάσας δὲ ἀπίκετο ἐς τὴν Θήρην. 
+155. ᾿Ενθεῦτεν δὲ τὴν Φρονίμην παραλαβὼν: 
+Πολύμνηστος, ἐὼν τῶν Θηραίων ἀνὴρ δόκιμος, 
+ἐπαλλακεύετο. χρόνου δὲ περιιόντος ἐξεγένετ 
+οἱ παῖς ἰσχόφωνος καὶ τραυλός, τῷ οὔνομα ἐτέθ, 
+Βάττος, ὡς Onpatoi τε καὶ Κυρηναῖοι λέγουσι, ὦ 
+μέντοι ἐγὼ δοκέω, ἄλλο τι Βάττος δὲ µετωνο 
+
+
+356 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΥ. 154-155 
+
+
+begins the part in which the Theraean and Cyre- 
+naean stories agree, but not till now, for the Cyre- 
+naeans tell a wholly different tale of Battus, which 
+is this. There is a town in Crete called Oaxus, 
+of which one Etearchus became ruler. He had a 
+motherless daughter called Phronime, but he must 
+needs marry another wife too. When the second 
+wife came into his house, she thought fit to be in 
+very deed a stepmother to Phronime, ill-treating her 
+and devising all evil against her; at last she accused 
+the girl of lewdness, and persuaded her husband 
+that the charge was true. So Etearchus was over- 
+persuaded by his wife and devised a great sin against 
+his daughter. There was at Oaxus a Theraean trader, 
+one Themison; Etearchus made this man his guest 
+and friend, and took an oath of him that he would 
+do him whatever service he desired ; which done, he 
+gave the man his own daughter, bidding him take 
+her away and throw her into the sea. But Themison 
+was very angry at being so tricked with the oath 
+and renounced his friendship with Etearchus; pre- 
+sently he took the girl and sailed away, and that he 
+might duly ‘fulfil the oath that he had sworn to 
+Etearchus, when he was on the high seas he bound 
+her about with ropes and let her down into the 
+sea and drew her up again, and presently came 
+to Thera. - 
+
+155. There Polymnestus, a notable Theraean, took 
+Phronime and made her his concubine. .In time 
+there was born to him a son of weak and stammering 
+speech, to whom he gave the name Battus,! as the 
+Theraeans and Cyrenaeans say ; but to my thinking 
+the boy was given some other name, and changed it 
+
+
+1 That is, the Stammerer. 
+
+
+357 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+/ 9 / 3 ΄ , / 3 / ^ 
+μάσθη, ἐπείτε ἐς Λιβύην ἀπίκετο, ἀπό τε τοῦ 
+χρηστηρίου τοῦ γενομένου ἐν Δελφοῖσι αὐτῷ καὶ 
+ἀπὸ τῆς τιμῆς τὴν ἔσχε τὴν ἐπωνυμίην ποιεύ- 
+
+/ \ / / / 
+μενος. Λίβυες γὰρ βασιλέα βάττον καλέουσι, 
+
+. / ο / / 4 / 
+καὶ τούτου εἵνεκα δοκέω θεσπίξουσαν τὴν Πυθίην 
+καλέσαι μιν Λιβυκῇ γλώσσῃ, εἰδυῖαν ὡς βασιλεὺς 
+ἔσται ἐν Λιβύη. ἐπείτε γὰρ ἠνδρώθη οὗτος, ἦλθε 
+3 4 . - A 3 A / e 
+ἐς Δελφοὺς περὶ τῆς φωνῆς: ἐπειρωτῶντι δέ οἱ 
+χρᾷ ἡ Πυθίη τάδε. 
+
+
+Βάττ', ἐπὶ φωνὴν ἦλθες: ἄναξ δέ σε Φοῖβος 
+᾿Απόλλων .. 
+ἐς Λιβύην πέμπει μηλοτρόφον οἰκιστῆρα, 
+
+
+ὥσπερ εἰ εἴποι Ελλάδι γλώσσῃ χρεωμένη “"Ὦ 
+βασιλεῦ, ἐπὶ φωνὴν Abes.” ὃ δ᾽ ἀμείβετο τοῖ- 
+ade. “Ὦναξ, ἐγὼ μὲν ἦλθον παρὰ σὲ χρησά- 
+. ^ ^ M /, y 3 4 
+μενος περὶ τῆς φωνῆς, σὺ δέ μοι ἄλλα ἀδύνατα 
+^ 4 / 9 / /. 4 
+χρᾶς, κελεύων Λιβύην ἀποικίξειν τέῳ δυνάμι, 
+a ^| 9 ^ / , LÁ » e 
+κοίῃ χειρί; ταῦτα λέγων οὐκὶ ἔπειθε ἄλλα οἱ 
+χρᾶν' ὡς δὲ κατὰ ταὐτὰ ἐθέσπιξέ οἱ καὶ πρότερον, 
+» \ 2 N e / 3 ν / 
+οἴχετο μεταξὺ ἀπολιπών ὁ Βάττος ἐς τὴν Θήρην. 
+156. Μετὰ δὲ αὐτῷ τε τούτῳ καὶ τοῖσι ἄλλοισι 
+Θηραίοισι συνεφέρετο παλργκότως' ἀγνοεῦντες δὲ 
+τὰς συμφορὰς οἱ Θηραῖοι ἔπεμπον ἐς Δελφοὺς 
+περὶ τῶν παρεόντων κακῶν. ἡ δὲ Πυθίη σφι 
+» , ΄ ld A P4 
+ἔχρησε συγκτίζουσι Βάττῳ Κυρήνην τῆς Λιβύης 
+ἄμεινον πρήξειν. ἀπέστελλον μετὰ ταῦτα τὸν 
+Βάττον οἱ (Θηραῖοι δύο πεντηκοντέροισι. TAW- 
+A 3 . /, e , σ 
+σαντες δὲ ἐς τὴν Λιβύην οὗτοι, οὐ γὰρ εἶχον ὅ τι 
+
+
+358 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 155-156 
+
+
+to Battus on his coming to Libya, taking this new 
+name by reason of the ‘oracle uttered at Delphi and 
+the honourable office which he received. For the 
+Libyan word for king is “ battus," and this (methinks) 
+is why the Pythian priestess called him so in her 
+prophecy, using a Libyan name because she knew that 
+he was to be king in Libya. For when he came to 
+man’s estate, he went to Delphi to enquire concern- 
+ing his voice; and the priestess in answer gave him 
+this oracle: 
+
+
+* Battus, thou askest a voice; but the King, εν η 
+Phoebus Apollo, 
+Sends thee to make thee a home in Libya, the 
+country of sheepfolds," 
+
+
+even as though she said to him, using our word, 
+“O King, thou askest a voice.” But he made 
+answer: “Lord, I came to thee to enquire con- 
+cerning my speech; but thy answer is of other 
+matters, things impossible of performance; thou 
+biddest me plant a colony in Libya; where shall I 
+get me the power or might of hand for it?" Thus 
+spoke Battus, but the god not being won to give him - 
+another oracle and ever answering as before, he 
+departed while the priestess yet spake, and went 
+away to Thera. 
+
+156. But afterwards matters went untowardly with 
+Battus and the rest of the Theraeans; and when, 
+knowing not the cause of their misfortunes, they sent 
+to Delphi to enquire concerning their present ills, 
+the priestess declared that they would fare better if 
+they aided Battus to plant a colony at Cyrene in 
+Libya. Then the Theraeans sent Battus with two 
+fifty-oared ships; these sailed to Libya, but presently 
+
+
+359 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ποιέωσι ἄλλο, ὀπίσω ἀπαλλάσσοντο ἐς τὴν Θή- 
+ρην. οἱ δὲ Θηραῖοι καταγομένους ἔβαλλον καὶ 
+οὐκ ἔων τῇ γῇ π οσίσχειν, ἀλλ᾽ ὀπίσω TAWEL 
+ἐκέλευον. οἳ δὲ ἀναγκαζόμενοι ὀπίσω ἀπέπλεον 
+καὶ ἔκτισαν νῆσον ἐπὶ Λιβύῃ κειμένην, τῇ, οὔνομα, 
+ὡς καὶ πρότερον εὐρέθη, ἐστὶ Πλατέα. λέγεται δὲ 
+ἴση εἶναι ἡ νῆσος τῇ νῦν Κυρηναίων πόλι. 
+
+151. Ταύτην οἰκέοντες δύο ἔ ἔτεα, οὐδὲν γάρ σφι 
+χρηστὸν συνεφέρετο, ἕνα αὐτῶν καταλιπόντες οἱ 
+λοιποὶ πάντες ἀπέπλεον ἐς Δελφούς, ἀπικόμενοι 
+δὲ ἐπὶ τὸ χρηστήριον ἐχρέωντο, φάμενοι οἰκέειν 
+τε τὴν Λιβύην καὶ οὐδὲν ἄμεινον πρήσσειν 
+οἰκεῦντε. ἡ δὲ Πυθίη σφι πρὸς ταῦτα χρᾷ 
+τάδε. 
+
+
+ai τὺ ἐμεῦ Λιβύην μηλοτρόφον οἶδας à ἄμεινον, 
+μὴ ἐλθὼν ἐλθόντος, ἄγαν ἄγαμαι σοφίην σεῦ. 
+
+
+ἀκούσαντες δὲ τούτων οἱ ἀμφὶ TOV Βάττον ἀπέ- 
+πλωον ὀπίσω: οὐ γὰρ δή σφεας ἀπίει ὁ θεὸς τῆς 
+ἀποικίης, πρὶν δὴ ἀπίκωνται ἐς αὐτὴν Λιβύην. 
+ἀπικόμενοι δὲ ἐς τὴν νῆσον καὶ ἀναλαβόντες τὸν 
+ἔλιπον, € ἔκτισαν αὐτῆς τῆς Λιβύης χῶρον. ἀντίον 
+τῆς νήσου τῷ οὔνομα ἦν "Αξιρις' τὸν νάπαι τε 
+κάλλισται ἐπ᾿ ἀμφότερα συγκληίουσι καὶ ποτα- 
+μὸς τὰ ἐπὶ θάτερα παραρρέει.. 
+
+158. Τοῦτον οἴκεον τὸν χῶρον ἐξ ἔ ἔτεα, pom 
+δὲ σφέας ἔτεϊ παραιτησάμενοι οἱ Λίβυες ὡς ἐς 
+ἀμείνονα χῶρον ἄξουσι, | ἀνέγνωσαν ἐκλιπεῖν. 
+ἦγον δὲ σφέας ἐνθεῦτεν οἱ Λίβυες ἀναστήσαντες 
+πρὸς ἑσπέρην, καὶ τὸν κάλλιστον τῶν χώρων ἵνα 
+διεξιόντες οἱ "Έλληνες μὴ ἴδοιεν, συμμετρησά- 
+μενοι τὴν ὥρην τῆς ἡμέρης νυκτὸς παρῆγον. ἔστι 
+
+
+360 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 156-158 
+
+
+not knowing what else.to do returned back to Thera. 
+There the Theraeans shot at them as they came to 
+land and would not suffer the ship to put in, bidding 
+them sail back ; which under stress of necessity they 
+did, and planted a colony in an island off the Libyan 
+coast called (as I have said already) Platea. This is- 
+land is said to be as big as the city of Cyrene is now. 
+157. Here they dwelt for two years; but as all 
+went wrong with them, leaving there one of them- 
+selves the rest voyaged to Delphi, and on their 
+coming enquired of the oracle, and said that they 
+were dwelling in Libya, but that they were none the 
+better off for that. Then the priestess gave them 
+this reply : | 
+
+
+“I have seen Libya's pastures: thine eyes have 
+never beheld them. 
+Knowest them better than I? then wondrous 
+indeed is thy wisdom." 
+
+
+Hearing this, Battus and his men sailed back again ; 
+for the god would not suffer them to do aught short 
+of colonising Libya itself; and having come to the 
+island and taken again him whom they had left there, 
+they made a settlement at a place in Libya itself, 
+over against the island which was called Aziris. 
+This is a place enclosed on both sides by the fairest 
+of groves, and a river flows by one side of it. 
+
+158. Here they dwelt for six years; but in the 
+seventh the Libyans persuaded them by entreaty to 
+leave the place, saying that they would lead them 
+to a better; and they brought the Greeks from 
+Aziris and led them westwards, so reckoning the 
+hours of daylight that they led the Greeks by night 
+past the fairest place in their country, called Irasa, 
+
+
+361 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+^ / \ 
+δὲ τῷ χώρῳ τούτῳ οὔνομα Ἴρασα. ἀγαγόντες δὲ 
+, 9 / / Φ , [4 
+σφέας ἐπὶ κρήνην λεγομένην εἶναι Απόλλωνος 
+εἶπαν "Ανδρες "Ελληνες, ἐνθαῦτα ὑμῖν ἐπιτήδεον 
+οἰκέειν" ἐνθαῦτα γὰρ ὁ οὐρανὸς τέτρηται.᾽ 
+159. ᾿Επὶ μέν νυν Βάττου τε τοῦ οἰκιστέω τῆς 
+ζόης, ἄρξαντος ἐπὶ τεσσεράκοντα ἔτεα, καὶ τοῦ 
+. » A ? / y e ld 
+παιδὸς αὐτοῦ ᾿Αρκεσίλεω ἄρξαντος ἑκκαίδεκα 
+ἔτεα, οἴκεον οἱ Κυρηναῖοι ἐόντες τοσοῦτοι ὅσοι 
+ἀρχὴν ἐς τὴν ἀποικίην ἐστάλησαν. ἐπὶ δὲ τοῦ 
+, 4 ^ > , , ο 
+τρίτου, Βάττου τοῦ εὐδαίμονος καλεομένου, "EA- 
+ληνας πάντας ὥρμησε χρήσασα ἡ Πυθίη πλέειν 
+συνοικήσοντας Κυρηναίοισι Λιβύην: ἐπεκαλέοντο 
+γὰρ οἱ Κυρηναῖοι ἐπὶ γῆς ο ἔχρησε δὲ 
+ὧδε ἔχοντα. 
+
+
+ὃς δέ κεν ἐς Λιβύην πολυήρατον ὕστερον ἔλθῃ 
+γᾶς ἀναδαιομένας, μετὰ οἱ ποκα φαμὶ μελήσειν. 
+
+
+συλλεχθέντος δὲ ὁμίλου πολλοῦ ἐς τὴν Κυρήνην, 
+περιταμνόμενοι γῆν πολλὴν οἱ περίοικοι Λίβυες 
+Ν 6 \ 3 ^ A y . 3 ΄ 
+καὶ ὁ βασιλεὺς αὐτῶν τῷ οὔνομα ἦν ᾿Αδικράν, οἷα 
+τῆς τε χώρης στερισκόμενοι καὶ περιυβριξόμενοι 
+ὑπὸ τῶν Κυρηναίων, πέμψαντες ἐς Αἴγυπτον ἔδο- 
+΄ > .. 2 / ^ πα. / à 
+σαν σφέας αὐτοὺς ᾿Απρίη τῷ Αἰγύπτου βασιλέι. ὃ 
+δὲ συλλέξας στρατὸν Αἰγυπτίων πολλὸν ἔπεμψε 
+ἐπὶ τὴν Κυρήνην. οἱ δὲ Κυρηναῖοι ἐκστρατευσά- 
+μενοι ἐς Ἴρασα χῶρον καὶ ἐπὶ κρήνην Θέστην 
+cvvéBaXóv τε τοῖσι Αἰγυπτίοισι καὶ ἐνίκησαν τῇ 
+συμβολῇ. ἅτε γὰρ οὐ πεπειρημένοι πρότερον οἱ 
+Αἰγύπτιοι Ελλήνων καὶ παραχρεώμενοι διεφθάρ- 
+362 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 158-159 
+
+
+lest the Greeks should see it in their passage. 
+Then they brought the Greeks to what is called 
+the Fountain of Apollo, and said to them: * Here, 
+ye Greeks, it befits you to dwell; for here is a hole 
+in the sky." 1 
+
+159. Now in the time of Battus the founder of 
+the colony, who ruled for forty years, and of his son 
+Arcesilaus who ruled for seventeen, the dwellers in 
+Cyrene were no more in number than when they had 
+first gone forth to the colony. But in the time ‘of 
+the third ruler, that Battus who was called the For- 
+tunate, the Pythian priestess admonished all Greeks 
+by an oracle to cross the sea and dwell in Libya with 
+the Cyrenaeans; for the Cyrenaeans invited them, 
+promising a new division of lands; and this was the 
+oracle : 
+
+
+* Whoso delayeth to go till the fields be fully 
+divided | 
+
+Unto the Libyan land, that man shall surely 
+repent it." 
+
+
+So a great multitude gathered together at Goteni; 
+and cut off great tracts of land from the territory of 
+the neighbouring Libyans. Then these with their 
+king, whose name was Adicran, being robbed of 
+their lands and violently entreated by the Cyre- 
+naeans, sent to Egypt and put themselves in the 
+hands of Apries, the king of that country. Apries 
+mustered a great host of Egyptians and sent it 
+against Cyrene; the Cyrenaeans marched out to the 
+place Irasa and the spring Thestes, and there battled 
+with the Egyptians and overcame them; for the 
+Egyptians had as yet no knowledge of Greeks, and 
+
+
+1 That is, there is abundance of rain. 
+
+
+363 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ήσαν οὕτω ὥστε ὀλίγοι τινὲς αὐτῶν ἀπενόστησαν 
+ἐς Αἴγυπτον. ἀντὶ τούτων Αἰγύπτιοι καὶ ταῦτα 
+ἐπιμεμφόμενοι ᾿Απρίῃ ἀπέστησαν ἀπ] αὐτοῦ. 
+
+160. Τούτου δὲ τοῦ Βάττου παῖς Ὑίνεται ᾿Αρκε- 
+
+σύλεως' ὃς βασιλεύσας πρῶτα τοῖσι ἑωυτοῦ ἆδελ.- 
+φεοῖσι ἐστασίασε, ἐς ὅ μιν οὗτοι ἀπολιπόντες 
+οἴχοντο ἐς ἄλλον ' χῶρον τῆς Λιβύης καὶ ἐπ᾽ ἑων- 
+τῶν βαλόμενοι ἔκτισαν πόλιν ταύτην ἣ τότε καὶ 
+νῦν Βάρκη καλέεται: κτίξοντες δὲ ἅμα αὐτὴν ἀπι- 
+στᾶσι ἀπὸ τῶν Κυρηναίων τοὺς Λίβυας. μετὰ δὲ 
+᾿Αρκεσίλεως € ἐς τοὺς ὑποδεξαμένους τε τῶν Λιβύων 
+καὶ ἀποστάντας τοὺς αὐτοὺς τούτους ἐστρατεύετο" 
+οἱ δὲ Λίβυες δείσαντες αὐτὸν οἴχοντο φεύγοντες 
+πρὸς τοὺς ἠοίους τῶν Λιβύων. ὁ δὲ ᾿Αρκεσίλεως 
+εἵπετο φεύγουσι, ἐς οὗ ἐν Λεύκωνί τε τῆς Λιβύης 
+ἐγίνετο ἐπιδιώκων καὶ ἔδοξε τοῖσι Λίβυσι ἐπιθέ- 
+σθαι οἱ. συμβαλόντες δὲ ἐνίκησαν τοὺς Κυρη- 
+ναίους τοσοῦτο ὥστε ἑπτακισχιλίους ὁπλίτας 
+Κυρηναίων ἐνθαῦτα πεσεῖν. μετὰ δὲ τὸ τρῶμα 
+τοῦτο ᾿Αρκεσίλεων μὲν κάμνοντά τε καὶ φάρμακον 
+πεπωκότα ὁ ἀδελφεὸς ᾿Αλίαῤχος ἀποπνίγει, Ἁλί- 
+ἄρχον δὲ ἡ γυνὴ ἡ ᾿Αρκεσίλεω δόλῳ κτείνει, τῇ 
+οὔνομα ἦν ᾿Ερυξώ. 
+
+161. Διεδέξατο δὲ τὴν βασιληίην τοῦ ᾿Αρκεσί- 
+λεω 0 παῖς Βάττος, χωλός τε ἐὼν καὶ οὐκ ἀρτί- 
+πους. οἱ δὲ Κυρηναῖοι πρὸς τὴν καταλαβοῦσαν 
+συμφορὴν ἔπεμπον ἐς Δελφοὺς ἐπειρησομένους 
+ὄντινα τρόπον καταστησάμενοι ᾿κάλλιστα ἂν oi- 
+κέοιεν. ἡ δὲ Πυθίη ἐκέλευε ἐκ Μαντινέης τῆς 
+᾿Αρκάδων καταρτιστῆρα ἀγαγέσθαι. αἴτεον ὧν 
+οἱ Κυρηναῖοι, καὶ οἱ Μαντινέες ἔδοσαν ἄνδρα τῶν 
+ἀστῶν δοκιμώτατον, τῷ οὔνομα ἦν Δημῶναξ. 
+
+
+364 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 159-161 
+
+
+despised their enemy; whereby they were so utterly 
+destroyed that few of them returned to Egypt. For 
+this mishap, and because they blamed Apries for it, 
+the Egyptians revolted from him.! 
+
+160. This Battus had a son Arcesilaus; he at his 
+first coming to reign quarrelled with his own brothers, 
+till they left him and went away to another place in 
+Libya, where they founded a city for themselves, 
+which was then and is now called Barce; and while 
+they were founding it, they persuaded the Libyans 
+to revolt from the Cyrenaeans. Then Arcesilaus 
+came with an army into the country of the Libyans 
+who had received his brothers and had also revolted ; 
+and these fled in fear of him to the eastern Libyans. 
+Arcesilaus followed their flight until he came in his 
+pursuit to Leucon in Libya, where the Libyans 
+resolved to attack him; they joined battle and so 
+wholly overcame the Cyrenaeans that seven thousand 
+Cyrenaean men-at-arms were there slain. After this 
+disaster Arcesilaus, being sick and having drunk 
+medicine, was strangled by his brother Haliarchus; 
+Haliarchus was craftily slain by Arcesilaus’ wife Eryxo. 
+
+161. Arcesilaus’ kingship passed to his son Battus, 
+who was lame and infirm on his feet. The Cyre- 
+naeans, in their affliction, sent to Delphi to en- 
+quire what ordering of their state should best give 
+them prosperity; the priestess bade them bring a 
+peacemaker from Mantinea in Arcadia. The Cyre- 
+naeans then sending their request, the Mantineans 
+gave them their most esteemed townsman, whose 
+
+In 570 B.c. ; cp. ii. 161. 
+
+
+365 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οὗτος ὧν ὡνὴρ ἀπικόμενος ἐς τὴν Κυρήνην καὶ 
+μαθὼν ἕκαστα τοῦτο μὲν τριφύλους ἐ ἐποίησε σφέας, 
+τῇδε διαθείς' Θηραίων μὲν καὶ τῶν περιοίκων μίαν 
+μοῖραν ἐποίησε, ἄλλην δὲ Πελοποννησίων καὶ 
+Κρητῶν, τρίτην δὲ νησιωτέων πάντων. τοῦτο δὲ 
+τῷ βασιλέι Barre τεμένεα ἐξελὼν καὶ ἱρωσύνας, 
+τὰ ἄλλα πάντα τὰ πρὀτερον εἶχον οἱ βασιλέες ἐς 
+μέσον τῷ δήμῳ ἔθηκε. 
+
+169. Ἐπὶ μὲν δὴ τούτου τοῦ Βάττου οὕτω διε- 
+τέλεε ἐόντα, ἐπὶ δὲ τοῦ τούτου παιδὸς "A ρκεσίλεω 
+πολλὴ ταραχὴ περὶ τῶν τιμέων ἐγένετο. ᾿Άρκε- 
+σίλεως γὰρ ὁ Βάττου τε τοῦ χωλοῦ καὶ Φερετίμης 
+οὐκ ἔφη ἀνέξεσθαι κατὰ τὰ ὁ ο Μαντινεὺς Δημῶναξ 
+ἔταξε, ἀλλὰ ἀπαίτεε τὰ τῶν προγόνων γέρεα. 
+ἐνθεῦτεν στασιάξων ἑσσώθη καὶ ἔφυγε ἐς Σάμον, 
+ἡ δὲ μήτηρ οἱ ἐς Σαλαμῖνα τῆς Κύπρου ἔφυγε. 
+τῆς δὲ Σαλαμῖνος τοῦτον τὸν χρόνον ἐπεκράτεε 
+Εὐέλθων, ὃς τὸ ἐν Δελφοῖσι θυμιητήριον ἐὸν 
+ἀξιοθέητον ἀνέθηκε, τὸ ἐν τῷ Κορινθίων θησαυρῷ 
+κέεται. ἀπικομένη δὲ παρὰ τοῦτον ἡ Φερετίμη 
+ἐδέετο στρατιῆς ἣ κατάξει σφέας ἐς τὴν Κυρήνην. 
+ὁ δὲ Εὐέλθων πᾶν μᾶλλον ἢ στρατιήν οἱ ἐδίδου" 
+ἣ δὲ λαμβάνουσα τὸ διδόμενον καλὸν μὲν ἔφη καὶ 
+τοῦτο εἶναι, κάλλιον δὲ ἐκεῖνο, τὸ δοῦναί οἱ δεο- 
+μένῃ στρατιήν. τοῦτο ἐπὶ παντὶ γὰρ τῷ διδομένῳ 
+ἔλεγε, τελευταῖόν οἱ ἐξέπεμψε δῶρον ὁ Εὐέλθων 
+ἄτρακτον χρύσεον καὶ ἠλακάτην, προσῆν δὲ καὶ 
+εἴριον" ἐπειπάσης δὲ αὖτις τῆς Φερετίμης τὠυτὸ 
+ἔπος, ὁ Εὐέλθων ἔφη. τοιούτοισι γυναῖκας δωρέ- 
+εσθαι ἀλλ᾽ οὐ στρατιῇ. 
+
+163. Ὁ δὲ ᾿Αρκεσίλεως τοῦτον τὸν χρόνον ἐὼν 
+
+
+366 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 161-163 
+
+
+name was Demonax. When this man came to Cyrene 
+and learnt all, he divided the people into three 
+tribes ;! of which divisions the Theraeans and dis- 
+possessed Libyans were one, the Peloponnesians and 
+Cretans the second, and all the islanders the third ; 
+moreover he set apart certain domains and priest- 
+hoods for their king Battus, but gave all the rest, 
+which had belonged to the kings, to be now held by 
+the people in common. 
+
+162. During the life of this Battus aforesaid these 
+ordinances held good, but in the time of his son 
+Arcesilaus there arose much contention concerning 
+the king's rights. Arcesilaus, son of the lame Battus 
+and Pheretime, would not abide by the ordinances 
+of Demonax, but demanded back the prerogative of 
+his forefathers, and made himself head of a faction ; 
+but he was worsted and banished to Samos, and his 
+mother fled to Salamis in Cyprus. Now Salamis at 
+this time was ruled by Evelthon, who dedicated that 
+marvellous censer at Delphi which stands in the 
+treasury of the Corinthians. To him Pheretime came, 
+asking him for an army which should bring her and 
+her son back to Cyrene; but Evelthon being willing 
+to give her all else, only not an army, when she took 
+what he gave her she said that this was well, but it 
+were better to give her an army at her request. 
+This she would still say, whatever was the gift; at 
+the last Evelthon sent her a golden spindle aud 
+distaff, and wool therewith; and Pheretime uttering 
+the same words as before, he answered that these, 
+and not armies, were gifts for women. 
+
+163. Meanwhile Arcesilaus was in Samos, gather- 
+
+
+! According to the principle of division customary in a 
+Dorian city state. 
+
+
+367 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐν Σάμφ συνήγειρε πάντα ἄνδρα ἐπὶ γῆς ἀναδα- 
+σμφ' συλλεγομένου δὲ στρατοῦ πολλοῦ, ἐστάλη 
+ἐς Δελφοὺς ᾿Αρκεσίλεως χρησόμενος τῷ χρη- 
+στηρίῳ περὶ κατόδου. ἡ δὲ Πνυδίη οἱ χρᾷ τάδε. 
+“ Ἐπὶ μὲν τέσσερας Βάττους καὶ ᾿Αρκεσίλεως 
+τέσσερας, ὀκτὼ ἀνδρῶν γενεάς» διδοῖ ὁ ὑμῖν Λοξίης 
+βασιλεύειν Κυρήνης, πλέον μέντοι τούτου οὐδὲ 
+πειρᾶσθαι παραινέει. σὺ μέντοι ἥσυχος εἶναι 
+κατελθὼν ἐς τὴν σεωυτοῦ. ἦν δὲ τὴν κάμινον 
+εὕρῃς πλέην ἀμφορέων, μὴ ἐξοπτήσῃς τοὺς ἀμ- 
+φορέας ἀλλ᾽ ἀπόπεμπε κατ᾽ οὗρον: εἰ δὲ ἐξοπτή- 
+ons τὴν κάμινον, μὴ ἐσέλθῃς ἐς τὴν ἀμφίρρυτον: 
+εἰ δὲ μὴ ἀποθανέαι καὶ αὐτὸς κα ταῦρος 0 
+καλλιστεύων. ταῦτα ἡ Πυθίη ᾿Αρκεσίλεῳ χρά. 
+
+164. Ὃ δὲ παραλαβὼν τοὺς ἐκ τῆς Σάμου 
+κατῆλθε ἐς τὴν Κυρήνην, καὶ ἐπικρατήσας τῶν 
+πρηγμάτων τοῦ μαντηίου οὐκ ἐμέμνητο, ἀλλὰ 
+δίκας τοὺς ἀντιστασιώτας αἴτεε τῆς ἑωυτοῦ φυγῆς. 
+τῶν δὲ οἳ μὲν τὸ παράπαν ἐκ τῆς χώρης ἀπαλλάσ- 
+σοντο, τοὺς δὲ τινὰς χειρωσάμενος o ᾿Αρκεσίλεως 
+ἐς Κύπρον ἀπέστειλε ἐπὶ διαφθορῇ. τούτους μέν 
+νυν Κνίδιοι ἀπενειχθέντας πρὸς τὴν .σφετέρην 
+ἐρρύσαντο καὶ ἐς Θήρην ἀπέστειλαν" ἑτέρους δὲ 
+τινὰς τῶν Κυρηναίων ἐς πύργον μέγαν ᾿Αγλωμά- 
+χου καταφυγόντας ἰδιωτικὸν ὕλην περινήσας 0 
+᾿Αρκεσίλεως ἐνέπρησε. μαθὼν δὲ ἐπ’ ἐξεργασμέ- 
+νοισι τὸ μαντήιον ἐὸν τοῦτο, ὅτι μιν ἡ Πυθίη οὐκ 
+ἔα εὑρόντα ἐν τῇ καμίνῳ τοὺς ἀμφορέας ἐξοπτῆ- 
+σαι, ἔργετο ἑκὼν τῆς τῶν Κυρηναίων πόλιος, 
+δειμαίνων τε τὸν κεχρησμένον θάνατον καὶ δοκέων 
+ἀμφίρρυτον τὴν Κυρήνην εἶναι. εἶχε δὲ γυναῖκα 
+
+
+368 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΥ. 163-164 
+
+
+ing all men that he could and promising them a 
+new division of land; and while a great army was 
+thus mustering, he made a journey to Delphi, to 
+enquire of the oracle concerning his return. The 
+priestess gave him this answer: * For the lives of 
+four named Battus and four named Arcesilaus, to wit, 
+for eight generations of men, Loxias grants to your 
+house the kingship of Cyrene; more than this he 
+counsels you not so much as to essay. But thou, 
+return to thy country and dwell there in peace. But 
+if thou findest the oven full of earthen pots, bake 
+not the pots, but let them go unscathed. And if 
+thou bakest them in the oven, go not into the sea- 
+girt place; for if thou dost, then shalt thou thyself 
+be slain, and the bull too that is fairest of the herd.” 
+This was the oracle given by the priestess to 
+Arcesilaus. 
+
+164. But he with the men from Samos returned to 
+Cyrene, whereof having made himself master he 
+forgot the oracle, and demanded justice upon his 
+enemies for his banishment. Some of these departed 
+altogether out of the country ; others Arcesilaus 
+seized and sent away to Cyprus to be there slain. 
+These were carried out of their course to Cnidus, 
+where the Cnidians saved them and sent them to 
+Thera. Others of the Cyrenaeans fled for refuge 
+into a great tower that belonged to one Aglomachus, 
+a private man, and Arcesilaus piled wood round it 
+and burnt them there. Then, perceiving too late 
+that this was the purport of the Delphic oracle which 
+forbade him to bake the pots if he found them in 
+the oven, he refrained of set purpose from going 
+into the city of the Cyrenaeans, fearing the death 
+prophesied and supposing the sea-girt place to be 
+
+
+369 
+VOL. 1I. B B 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+συγγενέα ἑωυτοῦ, θυγατέρα δὲ τῶν Βαρκαίων τοῦ 
+βασιλέος, τῷ οὔνομα ἦν ᾿Αλάξειρ' παρὰ τοῦτον 
+ἀπικνέεται, καί µιν Βαρκαῖοί τε ἄνδρες καὶ τῶν 
+ἐκ Κυρήνης φυγάδων τινὲς καταμαθόντες ἀγορά- 
+ζοντα κτείνουσι, πρὸς δὲ καὶ τὸν πενθερὸν αὐτοῦ 
+᾿Αλάξειρα. ᾿Αρκεσίλεως μέν. νυν εἴτε ἑκὼν εἴτε 
+ἀέκων ἁμαρτὼν τοῦ χρησμοῦ ἐξέπλησε μοῖραν 
+τὴν ἑωυτοῦ. 
+
+165. “H δὲ μήτηρ Φερετίμη, ἕ ἕως μὲν ὁ Αρκεσί- 
+λεως ἐν τῇ Βάρκη ιαιτᾶτο ἐξεργασμένος᾽ ἑωυτῷ 
+κακόν, 4) δὲ εἶχε αὐτὴ τοῦ παιδὸς τὰ γέρεα ἐν 
+Κυρήνῃ. καὶ τἆλλα νεμομένη καὶ ἐν βουλῇ παρί- 
+δουσα' ἐπείτε δὲ ἔμαθε ἐν τῇ Βάρκῃ ἀποθανόντα 
+οἱ τὸν παῖδα, -φεύγουσα οἰχώκεε ἐς Αἴγυπτον. 
+ἦσαν γάρ οὗ ἐκ τοῦ ᾿Αρκεσίλεω εὐεργεσίαι ἐς 
+Καμβύσεα τὸν Κύρου πεποιηµέναι οὗτος γὰρ ἦν 
+0 ᾿Αρκεσίλεως ὃς Κυρήνην Καμβύσῃ ἔδωκε καὶ 
+Φόρον ἐτάξατο. ἀπικομένη δὲ ἐς τὴν Αἴγυπτον 
+7 Φερετίμη, ᾿Αρυάνδεω ἱκέτις (tero, τιμωρῆσαι 
+ἑωυτῇ κελεύουσα, προϊσχομένη πρόφασιν ὡς διὰ 
+τὸν μηδισμὸν ὁ ὁ παῖς οἱ τέθνηκε, 
+
+166. Ὁ δὲ ᾿Αρυάνδης ἦν οὗτος τῆς Αἰγύπτου 
+ὕπαρχος ὑπὸ Καμβύσεω κατεστεώς, ὃς ὑστέρ 
+χρόνῳ τούτων παρισούμενος Δαρείῳ διεφθάρη. 
+πυθόμενος γὰρ καὶ ἰδὼν Δαρεῖον ἐπιθυμέοντα 
+μνημόσυνον ἑωυτοῦ λιπέσθαι τοῦτο τὸ μὴ ἄλλῳ 
+εἴη βασιλέι κατεργασμένον, ἐμιμέετο τοῦτον, ἐς 
+οὗ ἔλαβε τὸν μισθόν. Δαρεῖος μὲν γὰρ χρυσίον 
+καθαρώτατον ἀπεψήσας ἐς τὸ δυνατώτατον νό- 
+popa ἐκόψατο, ᾿Αρυάνδης δὲ ἄρχων Αἰγύπτου 
+ἀργύριον τὠυτὸ τοῦτο ἐποίεε, καὶ νῦν ἐστὶ ἀργύ- 
+ριον καθαρώτατον τὸ Αρυανδικόν. μαθὼν δέ μιν 
+
+
+379 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 164-166 
+
+
+Cyrene. Now his wife was his own kinswoman, 
+daughter of Alazir king of the Barcaeans, and Arce- 
+silaus betook himself to Alazir; but men of Barce 
+and certain of the exiles from Cyrene were aware of 
+him and slew him as he walked in the town, and 
+Alazir his father-in-law likewise. So Arcesilaus 
+whether with or without intent missed the meaning 
+of the oracle and fulfilled his destiny. 
+
+165. As long as Arcesilaus, after working his own 
+destruction, was living at Barce, his mother Pheretime 
+held her son's prerogative at Cyrene, where she 
+administered all his business and sat with others in 
+council. But when she learnt of her son's death at 
+Barce, she made her escape away to Egypt, trusting 
+to the good service which Arcesilaus had done 
+Cambyses the son of Cyrus; for this was the 
+Arcesilaus who gave Cyrene to Cambyses and agreed 
+to pay tribute. So on her coming to Egypt 
+Pheretime made supplication to Aryandes, demand- 
+ing that he should avenge her, on the plea that her 
+son had been killed for allying himself with the 
+Medes. 
+
+166. This Aryandes had been appointed by Cam- 
+byses viceroy of Egypt ; at a later day he was put to 
+death for making himself equal to Darius. For learn- 
+ing and seeing that Darius desired to leave such a 
+memorial of himself as no king had ever wrought, 
+Aryandes imitated him, till he got his reward ; for 
+Darius had coined money out of gold refined to an 
+extreme purity,! and Aryandes, then ruling Egypt, 
+
+
+. made a like silver coinage; and now there is no 
+
+
+[ 
+
+
+silver money so pure as is the Aryandic. But when 
+
+
+! The gold coins called δαρεικοί are said to contain only 
+
+
+; 3 per cent. of alloy. 
+
+
+371 
+Bb2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Δαρεῖος ταῦτα ποιεῦντα, αἰτίην of ἄλλην ἐπενεί- 
+κας ὥς οἱ ἐπανίσταιτο, ἀπέκτεινε. 
+
+167. Τότε δὲ οὗτος ὁ ᾿Αρυάνδης κατοικτείρας 
+Φερετίμην διδοῖ αὐτῇ στρατὸν τὸν ἐξ Αἰγύπτου 
+ἅπαντα καὶ τὸν πεζὸν καὶ τὸν ναυτικόν" στρατη- 
+yov δὲ τοῦ μὲν πεζοῦ ᾿Αμασιν ἀπέδεξε ἄνδρα 
+Μαράφιον, τοῦ δὲ ναυτικοῦ Βάδρην ἐ ἐόντα Hasap- 
+γάδην γένος. πρὶν δὲ ἢ 3 ἀποστεῖλαι τὴν στρατιήν, 
+o ᾿Αρυάνδης πέμψας ἐς τὴν Βάρκην κήρυκα ἐπυν- 
+θάνετο τίς εἴη ὁ ᾿Δρκεσίλεων ἀποκτείνας. οἱ δὲ 
+Βαρκαῖοι αὐτοὶ ὑπεδέκοντο πάντες πολλά TE γὰρ 
+καὶ κακὰ πάσχειν, ὑπ᾽ αὐτοῦ. πυθόμενος δὲ ταῦ- 
+τα ὁ ᾿Αρυάνδης οὕτω δὴ τὴν στρατιὴν ἀπέστειλε 
+ἅμα τῇ Φερετίμῃ. αὕτη μέν νυν αἰτίη πρόσχημα 
+τοῦ στόλου ἐγίνετο, ἀπεπέμπετο ὲ ἡ στρατεή, 
+ὡς ἐμοὶ δοκέειν, ἐπὶ Λιβύης καταστροφῇ. Λιβύων | 
+γὰρ δὴ ἔθνεα πολλὰ καὶ παντοῖα ἐστί, καὶ τὰ ' 
+μὲν αὐτῶν ὀλίγα βασιλέος ἦν ὑπήκοα, τὰ δὲ πλέω : 
+ἐφρόντιζε Δαρείου 1 οὐδέν. 
+
+168. Οἰκέουσι δὲ κατὰ τάδε Λίβυες. ar 
+Αἰγύπτου ἀρξάμενοι πρῶτοι ᾿Αδυρμαχίδαι Λιβύ- 
+ων κατοίκηνται, o? νόμοισι μὲν τὰ πλέω. Αἰγυπτί- 
+οισι χρέωνται, ἐσθῆτα δὲ φορέουσι οἵην περ οἱ 
+ἄλλοι Λίβυες. αἱ δὲ γυναῖκες αὐτῶν ψέλιον περὶ ; 
+ἑκατέρῃ τῶν κνημέων «Φορέουσι χάλκεον" τὰς! 
+κεφαλὰς δὲ κομῶσαι, τοὺς φθεῖρας ἐπεὰν λάβωσι. 
+τοὺς ἑωυτῆς ἑκάστη ἀντιδάκνει καὶ οὕτω ῥύπτει.. 
+οὗτοι δὲ μοῦνοι Λιβύων τοῦτο ἐργάξονται, καὶ τῷ 
+βασιλέι μοῦνοι τὰς παρθένους μελλούσας συνοι- 
+κέειν ἐπιδεικνύουσι: ἣ δὲ ἂν τῷ βασιλέι ἀρεστὴ 
+γένηται, ὑπὸ τούτου διαπαρθενεύεται. παρήκουσι 
+
+1 [Δαρείου] Stein. 
+
+
+372 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 166-168 
+
+
+Darius heard that Aryandes was so doing, he put 
+him to death, not on this plea but as a rebel. 
+
+167. At this time Aryandes, of whom I speak, took 
+pity on Pheretime and gave her all the Egyptian 
+land and sea forces, appointing Amasis, a Maraphian, 
+general of the army, and Badres of the tribe of the 
+Pasargadae admiral of the fleet. But before despatch- 
+ing the host Áryandes sent a herald to Barce to enquire 
+who it was who had killed Arcesilaus. The Barcaeans 
+answered that it was the deed of the whole city, for 
+the many wrongs that Arcesilaus had done them ; 
+which when he heard, Aryandes then sent his arma- 
+ment with Pheretime. This was the alleged pretext; 
+but, as I myself think, the armament was sent to 
+subdue Libya. For the Libyan tribes are many and 
+of divers kinds, and though a few of them were the 
+king’s subjects the greater part cared nothing for 
+Darius. 
+
+168. Now as concerning the lands inhabited by 
+Libyans, the Adyrmachidae are the people that 
+dwell nearest to Egypt; they follow Egyptian 
+usages for the most part, but wear a dress like that 
+of other Libyans. Their women wear bronze torques 
+on both legs; their hair is long; they catch each 
+her own lice, then bite and throw them away. They 
+are the only Libyans that do this, and that show the 
+king all virgins that are to be wedded; the king 
+takes the virginity of whichever of these pleases 
+
+
+373 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δὲ οὗτοι οἱ ᾿Αδυρμαχίδαι ἀπ᾿ Αἰγύπτου μέχρι 
+λιμένος τῷ οὔνομα Ἠλυνός ἐ ἐστι. 
+
+169. Τούτων δὲ ἔχονται Γιλιγάμαι, νεμόμενοι 
+τὸ πρὸς ἑσπέρην χώρην; μέχρι ᾿Αφροδισιάδος 
+νήσου. ἐν δὲ τῷ μεταξὺ τούτου χώρῳ" ἥ τε 
+Πλατέα νῆσος ἐπικέεται, τὴν ἔκτισαν οἱ Κυρη- 
+ναῖοι, καὶ ἐν τῇ ἠπείρῳ Μενέλαος λιμήν. ἐστι καὶ 
+Abus, τὴν. οἱ Κυρηναῖοι οἴκεον, καὶ τὸ σίλφιον 
+ἄρχεται ἀπὸ τούτου" παρήκει δὲ ἀπὸ .Πλατέης 
+νήσου μέχρι τοῦ στόματος τῆς Σύρτιος τὸ σίλφιον. 
+νόμοισι δὲ χρέωνται οὗτοι παραπλησίοισι τοῖσι 
+ἑτέροισι. 
+
+110. Γ ἑλιγαμέων δὲ ἔχονται τὸ πρὸς ἑσπέρης 
+᾿Ασβύσται' οὗτοι ὑπὲρ Κυρήνης οἰκέουσι. ἐπὶ 
+θάλασσαν δὲ οὐ κατήκουσι ᾿Ασβύσται- τὸ γὰρ 
+παρὰ θάλασσαν Κυρηναῖοι νέμονται. τεθριπ- 
+ποβάται δὲ οὖκ ἥκιστα ἀλλὰ μάλιστα Λιβύων 
+εἰσί, νόμους δὲ τοὺς πλεῦνας μιμέεσθαι ἐπιτηδεύ- 
+ουσι τοὺς Κυρηναίων. 
+
+171. ᾿Ασβυστέων δὲ ἔ ἔχονται τὸ πρὸς ἑσπέρης 
+Αὐσχίσαι" οὗτοι ὑπὲρ Βάρκης οἰκέουσι, κατή- 
+κοντες ἐπὶ θάλασσαν κατ᾽ Εὐεσπερίδας. Αὐσχι- 
+σέων δὲ κατὰ μέσον τῆς χώρης οἰκέουσι Βάκαλες, 
+ὀλίγον ἔθνος, κατήκοντες ἐπὶ θάλασσαν κατὰ 
+Ταύχειρα πόλιν τῆς Βαρκαίης' νόμοισι δὲ τοῖσι 
+αὐτοῖσι χρέωνται τοῖσι καὶ οἱ ὑπὲρ Kv ήνης. 
+
+112. Αὐσχισέων δὲ τούτων τὸ πρὸς ἑσπέρης 
+ἔχονται Νασαμῶνες, ἔθνος ἐὸν πολλόν, οἳ τὸ 
+θέρος καταλείποντες ἐπὶ τῇ θαλάσσῃ τὰ πρόβατα 
+ἀναβαίνουσι ἐς Αὔγιλα χῶρον ὀπωριεῦντες τοὺς 
+φοίνικας. οἳ δὲ πολλοὶ καὶ ἀμφιλαφέες πεφύκασι, 
+πάντες ἐόντες καρποφόροι. τοὺς δὲ ἀττελέβους 
+
+
+374 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 168-172 
+
+
+him. These Adyrmachidae reach from Egypt to the 
+harbour called Plynus. 
+
+169. Next to them are the Giligamae, who in- 
+habit the country to the west as far as the island 
+Aphrodisias; ere this is reached the island Platea 
+lies off the coast, and on the mainland is the haven 
+called Menelaus, and that Aziris which was a settle- 
+ment of the Cyrenaeans. Here begins the country 
+of silphium, which reaches from the island Platea 
+to the entrance of the Syrtis. This people is like 
+the others in its usages. 
+
+170. The next people westward of the Giligamae 
+are the Asbystae, who dwell inland of Cyrene, not 
+coming down to the sea-coast ; for that is Cyrenaean 
+territory. These are drivers of four-horse chariots 
+not less but more than any other Libyans; it is their 
+practice to imitate most of the Cyrenaean usages. 
+
+171. Next westward of the Asbystae are the 
+Auschisae, dwelling inland of Barce, and touching 
+the sea-coast at Euhesperidae. About the middle 
+of the land of the Auschisae dwells the little tribe 
+of the Bacales, whose territory comes down to the 
+sea at Tauchira, a town in the Barcaean country ; 
+their usages are the same as those of the dwellers 
+inland of Cyrene. 
+
+172. Next westward of these Auschisae is the 
+populous country of the Nasamones, who in summer 
+leave their flocks by the sea and go up to the land 
+called Augila to gather dates from the palm-trees 
+which grow there in great abundance, and all bear 
+fruit. They hunt locusts, which when taken they 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+1 [χώρην] Stein. 
+? [χώρφ] Stein. 
+
+
+375 
+
+
+- 
+
+
+HERODOTUS. 
+
+
+ἐπεὰν θηρεύσωσι, αὐήναντες πρὸς τὸν ἥλιον κατα- 
+λέουσι καὶ ἔπειτα ἐπὶ γάλα ἐπιπάσσοντες πί- 
+νουσι. γυναῖκας δὲ νομίξοντες πολλὰς ἔχειν 
+ἕκαστος ἐπίκοινον αὐτέων τὴν μῖξιν ποιεῦνται 
+τρόπῳ παραπλησίῳ τῷ καὶ Μασσαγέται: ἐπεὰν 
+σκίπωνα προστήσωνται, μίσγονται. πρῶτον δὲ 
+γαμέοντος Νασαμῶνος ἀνδρὸς νόμος ἐστὶ τὴν 
+νύμφην νυκτὶ τῇ πρώτῃ διὰ πάντων διεξελθεῖν 
+τῶν δαιτυμόνων μισγομένην' τῶν δὲ ὡς ἕκαστός 
+οἱ μιχθῇ, διδοῖ δῶρον. τὸ ἂν ἔχῃ φερόμενος ἐξ 
+οἴκου. ὁρκίοισι δὲ καὶ μαντικῇ χρέωνται τοιῆδε' 
+ὀμνύουσι μὲν τοὺς παρὰ σφίσι ἄνδρας δικαιοτά- 
+τους καὶ ἀρίστους λεγομένους γενέσθαι, τούτους, 
+τῶν τύμβων ἁπτόμενοι" μαντεύονται δὲ ἐπὶ τῶν 
+προγόνων φοιτέοντες τὰ σήματα, καὶ .κατευξά- 
+μενοι ἐπικατακοιμῶνται" τὸ ὃ àv ἴδῃ ἐν τῇ ὄψι 
+ἐνύπνιον, τούτῳ χρᾶται. πίστισι δὲ τοιῇσιδε 
+χρέωνται: ἐκ τῆς. χειρὸς διδοῖ πιεῖν καὶ αὐτὸς ἐκ 
+τῆς τοῦ ἑτέρου πίνει" ἣν δὲ μὴ ἔχωσι ὑγρὸν μηδέν, 
+οἳ δὲ τῆς χαμᾶθεν σποδοῦ λαβόντες λείχουσι. 
+173. Νασαμῶσι δὲ προσόµουροι εἰσὶ Ψύλλοι. 
+οὗτοι -ἐξαπολώλασι τρόπῳ τοιῷδε’ ὁ νότος σφι 
+πνέων ἄνεμος τὰ ἔλυτρα τῶν ὑδάτων ἐξηύηνε, ἡ 
+δὲ χώρη σφι ἅπασα ἐντὸς ἐοῦσα τῆς Σύρτιος ἡ ήν 
+ἄνυδρος" οἳ δὲ βουλευσάμενοι κοινῷ λόγῳ ἐστρα- 
+τεύοντο ἐπὶ τὸν νότον (λέγω δὲ ταῦτα τὰ λέγουσι 
+Λίβυες), καὶ ἐπείτε ἐγίνοντο ἐν τῇ ψάμμῳ, πνεύ- 
+
+
+σας 0 νότος κατέχωσε σφέας. ἐξαπολομένων δὲ 
+
+
+τούτων ἔχουσι τὴν χώρην οἱ Νασαμῶνες. 
+
+114, Τούτων δὲ κατύπερθε πρὸς νότον ἄνεμον 
+ἐν τῇ θηριώδεϊ οἰκέουσι l'apápavres, ot πάντα 
+ἄνθρωπον φεύγουσι καὶ παντὸς ὁμιλίην, καὶ οὔτε 
+
+
+376 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 172-174 
+
+
+dry in the sun, and after grinding sprinkle them into 
+milk and so drink it. It is their custom for every 
+man to have many wives; their intercourse with 
+women is promiscuous, in like manner as among 
+the Massagetae ; a staff is planted before the dwell- 
+ing and then they have intercourse. When a man 
+of the Nasamones first weds, on the first night the 
+' bride must by custom lie with each of the whole 
+company in turn; and each man after intercourse 
+gives her whatever gift he has brought from his 
+house. As for their manner of swearing and divin- 
+ation, they lay their hands on the graves of the men 
+reputed most just and good among them, and by 
+these men they swear; their practice of divination 
+is to go to the tombs of their ancestors, where after 
+making prayers they lie down to sleep, and take 
+whatever dreams come to them for oracles. They ` 
+give and receive pledges by drinking each from 
+the hand of the other party; and if they have 
+
+
+nothing liquid they take of the dust of the earth - | 
+
+
+and lick it up. 
+
+173. On the borders of the Nasamones is the 
+country of the Psylli, who perished in this wise : the 
+force of the south wind dried up their water-tanks, 
+and all their country, lying within the region of the 
+Syrtis, was waterless. Taking counsel together they 
+marched southward (I tell the story as it is told by 
+the Libyans), and when they came into the sandy 
+desert a strong south wind buried them. So they 
+perished utterly, and the Nasamones have their 
+country. 
+
+174. Inland of these to the southward the Gara- 
+mantes dwell in the wild beasts' country. They shun 
+the sight and fellowship of men, and have no 
+
+
+377 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὅπλον ἐκτέαται ἀρήιον οὐδὲν οὔτε ἀμύνεσθαι 
+ἐπιστέαται. 
+
+175. Οὗτοι μὲν δὴ κατύπερθε οἰκέουσι Νασα- 
+μώνων" τὸ δὲ παρὰ τὴν θάλασσαν ἔχονται τὸ 
+πρὸς ἑσπέρης Μάκαι, οἳ λόφους κείρονται, τὸ μὲν 
+µέσον τῶν τριχῶν ἀνιέντες αὔξεσθαι, τὰ δὲ ἔνθεν 
+καὶ ἔνθεν κείροντες ἐν wpol, ἐς δὲ τὸν πόλεμον 
+στρουθῶν καταγαίων δορὰς φορέουσι προβλή- 
+ματα. διὰ δὲ αὐτῶν Kivu ποταμὸς ῥέων ἐκ 
+λόφου καλευμένου Χαρίτων ἐς θάλασσαν ἐκδιδοῖ. 
+ὁ δὲ λόφος οὗτος ὁ Χαρίτων δασὺς ἴδῃσι ἐστί, 
+ἐούσης τῆς ἄλλης τῆς προκαταλεχθείσης Λιβύης 
+ψιλῆς: ἀπὸ θαλάσσης δὲ ἐς αὐτὸν στάδιοι διηκό- 
+σιοι εἰσί. 
+
+116. Μακέων δὲ τούτων ἐχόμενοι Γινδᾶνες εἰσί, 
+τῶν αἱ γυναῖκες περισφύρια δερμάτων πολλὰ 
+ἑκάστη φορέει κατὰ τοιόνδε τι, ὡς λέγεται: κατ᾿ 
+ἄνδρα ἕκαστον μιχθέντα περισφύριον περιδέεται' 
+f) δὲ ἂν πλεῖστα ἔχῃ, αὕτη ἀρίστη δέδοκται εἶναι 
+ὡς ὑπὸ πλεύστων ἀνδρῶν φιληθεῖσα. 
+
+177. ᾽Ακτὴν δὲ προέχουσαν ἐς τὸν πόντον 
+τούτων τῶν Γινδάνων νέμονται Λωτοφάγοι, οἳ 
+τὸν καρπὸν μοῦνον τοῦ λωτοῦ τρώγοντες ζώουσι. 
+ὁ δὲ τοῦ λωτοῦ καρπὸς ἐστὶ μέγαθος ὅσον τε τῆς 
+σχίνου, γλυκύτητα δὲ τοῦ φοίνικος τῷ καρπῷ 
+προσείκελος. ποιεῦνται δὲ ἐκ τοῦ καρποῦ τούτου 
+οἱ Λωτοφάγοι καὶ οἶνον. 
+
+118. Λωτοφάγων δὲ τὸ παρὰ θάλασσαν ἔχονται 
+Μάχλυες, τῷ λωτῷ μὲν καὶ οὗτοι χρεώμενοι, 
+ἀτὰρ ἡσσόν γε τῶν πρότερον λεχθέντων, κατή- 
+κουσι δὲ ἐπὶ ποταμὸν μέγαν τῷ οὔνομα Τρίτων 
+
+
+| 378 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 174-178 
+
+
+weapons of war, nor know how to defend them- 
+selves. 
+
+175. These dwell inland of the Nakanioneed ; the 
+neighbouring seaboard to the west is the country of 
+the Macae, who shave their hair to a crest, leaving 
+that on the top of their heads to grow and shaving 
+clean off what is on either side; they carry in war 
+bucklers made of ostrich skins. The river Cinyps 
+flows into their sea through their country from a hill 
+called the Hill of the Graces. This hill is thickly 
+wooded, while the rest of Libya whereof I have 
+spoken is bare of trees; it is two hundred furlongs 
+distant from the sea. 
+
+176. Next to these Macae are the Gindanes, 
+where every woman wears many leathern anklets, 
+because (so it is said) she puts on an anklet for every 
+man with whom she has had intercourse; and she 
+who wears most is reputed the best, because she has 
+been loved by most men. 
+
+177. There is a headland jutting out to sea from 
+the land of the Gindanes; on it dwell the Lotus- 
+eaters, whose only fare is the lotus.! The lotus fruit 
+is of the bigness of a mastich-berry: it has a sweet 
+taste like the fruit of a date-palm ; the lotus-eaters 
+not only eat it but make wine of it. 
+
+178. Next to these along the coast are the Mach- 
+lyes, who also use the lotus, but less than the people 
+aforesaid. Their country reaches to a great river 
+
+1 The fruit of the Rhamnus Lotus, which grows in this 
+
+
+part of Africa, is said to be eatable, but not so delicious as to 
+justify its Homeric epithet ** honey-sweet." 
+
+
+379 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+éa Ti- ἐκδιδοῖ δὲ οὗτος ἐς λίμνην μεγάλην Ἔρι- 
+τωνίδα᾽ ἐν δὲ αὐτῇ νῆσος ἔνι τῇ οὔνομα PAd. 
+ταύτην δὲ τὴν νῆσον Λακεδαιμονίοισι φασὶ λόγιον 
+εἶναι κτίσαι. 
+
+119. Ἔστι δὲ καὶ ὅδε λόγος λεγόμενος. 'Ἰήσονα, 
+ἐπείτε οἱ ἐξεργάσθη ὑπὸ τῷ Πηλίφ 7) ᾿Αργώ, 
+ἐσθέμενον ἐς αὐτὴν ἄλλην τε ἑκατόμβην καὶ δὴ 
+καὶ τρίποδα χάλκεον περιπλώειν Πελοπόννησον, 
+βουλόμενον ἐς Δελφοὺς ἀπικέσθαι. καί μιν, ὡς 
+πλέοντα γενέσθαι. κατὰ Μαλέην, ὑπολαβεῖν d ἄνεμον 
+Βορέην καὶ ἀποφέρειν. πρὸς τὴν Λιβύην: πρὶν δὲ 
+κατιδέσθαι γῆν, ἐν τοῖσι βράχεσι γενέσθαι λίμνης 
+τῆς Τριτωνίδος. καί οἱ ἀπορέοντι τὴν ἐξαγωγὴν 
+λόγος ἐστὶ φανῆναι Τρίτωνα καὶ κελεύειν τὸν 
+Ἰήσονα ἑωυτῷ δοῦναι τὸν -τρίποδα, φάμενόν σφι 
+καὶ τὸν πόρον δέξειν καὶ ἀπήμονας ἀποστελέειν. 
+πειθομένου δὲ τοῦ Ἰήσονος, οὕτω δὴ τόν τε διέκ- 
+πλοον τῶν βραχέων δεικνύναι τὸν Τρίτωνά σφι 
+καὶ τὸν τρίποδα θεῖναι ἐν τῷ. ἑωυτοῦ ip@, ἐπιθεσ- 
+πίσαντά τε τῷ τρύποδι καὶ τοῖσι σὺν Ἰήσονι 
+σημήναντα τὸν πάντα λόγον, ὡς ἐπεὰν τὸν τρί- 
+ποδα κομίσηται τῶν ἐκγόνων τις τῶν ἐν τῇ ᾿Αργοῖ 
+συμπλεόντων, τότε ἑκατὸν πόλιας οἰκῆσαι περὶ 
+τὴν Τριτωνίδα λίμνην Ἑλληνίδας πᾶσαν εἶναι 
+ἀνάγκην. ταῦτα ἀκούσαντας τοὺς ἐπιχωρίους 
+τῶν Λιβύων κρύψαι τὸν τρύποδα. 
+
+180. Tovrwy δὲ € ἔχονται τῶν Μαχλύων Αὐσέες' 
+οὗτοι δὲ καὶ οἱ Μάχλυες πέριξ τὴν Τριτωνίδα 
+λίμνην οἰκέουσι, τὸ μέσον δέ σφι οὐρίζει ὁ 
+Τρίτων. καὶ οἱ μὲν Μάχλυες τὰ ὀπίσω κομῶσι 
+τῆς κεφαλῆς, οἱ δὲ Αὐσέες τὰ ἔμπροσθε. ὁρτῇ 
+δὲ ἐνιαυσίῃ ᾿Αθηναίης αἱ παρθένοι αὐτῶν δίχα 
+
+
+380 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 178-180 
+
+
+called Triton,! which issues into the great Tritonian 
+lake, wherein is an island called Phla. It is said that 
+the Lacedaemonians were bidden by an oracle to 
+plant a settlement on this island. 
+
+179. The following story is also told :—Jason (it is 
+said) when the Argo had been built at the foot of 
+Pelion, put therein besides a hecatomb a bronze 
+tripod, and set forth to sail round Peloponnesus, that 
+he might come to Delphi. But when in his course 
+he was off Malea, a north wind caught and carried him 
+away to Libya; and before he could spy land he 
+came into the shallows of the Tritonian Jake. There, 
+while yet he could find no way out, Triton (so goes 
+the story) appeared to him and bade Jason give him 
+the tripod, promising so to show the shipmen the 
+channel and send them on their way unharmed. 
+Jason did his bidding, and Triton then showed them 
+the passage out of the shallows and set the tripod in 
+his own temple; but first he prophesied over it, de- 
+claring the whole matter to Jason’s comrades: to wit, 
+that when any descendant of the Argo’s crew should 
+take away the tripod, then needs must a hundred 
+Greek cities be founded on the shores of the Triton- 
+ian lake. Hearing this (it issaid) the Libyan people 
+of the country hid the tripod. 
+
+180. Next to these Machlyes are the Ausees ; ; these 
+and the Machlyes, divided by the Triton, dwell on 
+the shores of the Tritonian lake. The Machlyes 
+wear the hair of their heads long behind, the Ausees 
+in front. They make a yearly festival to Athene, 
+
+
+! The “Triton” legend may arise from the Argonauts 
+finding a river which reminded them of their own river 
+Triton in Boeotia, and at the same time identifying the local 
+goddess (cp. 180) with Athene, one of whose epithets was 
+Τριτογένεια (whatever that means). 
+
+
+381 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+διαστᾶσαι μάχονται πρὸς ἀλλήλας λίθοισί τε καὶ 
+ξύλοισι, τῷ αὐθιγενέι θεῷ λέγουσαι τὰ πάτρια 
+ἀποτελέειν, τὴν ᾿Αθηναίην καλέομεν. τὰς δὲ 
+ἀποθνησκούσας τῶν παρθένων ἐκ τῶν τρωμάτων 
+ψευδοπαρθένους καλέουσι. πρὶν δὲ ἀνεῖναι αὐτὰς 
+μάχεσθαι, τάδε ποιεῦσι «oui παρθένον τὴν 
+καλλιστεύουσαν ἑκάστοτε κοσμήσαντες κυνέῃ τε 
+Κορινθίῃ καὶ πανοπλίῃ Ἑλληνικῇ καὶ ἐπ᾽ ἅρμα 
+ἀναβιβάσαντες περιάγουσι τὴν λίμνην κύκλῳ. 
+ὁτέοισι δὲ τὸ πάλαι ἐκόσμεον τὰς παρθένους πρὶν 
+ἤ ἤ σφι Ἕλληνας παροικισθῆναι, οὐκ ἔχω εἰπεῖν, 
+δοκέω δ᾽ ὧν «Αἰγυπτίοισι ὅπλοισι κοσμέεσθαι 
+αὐτάς ἀπὸ γὰρ Αἰγύπτου καὶ τὴν ἀσπίδα καὶ τὸ 
+κράνος φημὶ ἀπῖχθαι ἐς τοὺς Ἕλληνας. τὴν δὲ 
+᾿Αθηναίην φασὶ Ἡοσειδέωνος εἶναι θυγατέρα καὶ 
+τῆς Τριτωνίδος λίμνης, καί μιν μεμφθεῖσάν τι 
+τῷ πατρὶ δοῦναι ἑωυτὴν τῷ Au, τὸν δὲ Δία ἑ ἑωυτοῦ 
+μιν ποιήσασθαι θυγατέρα. ταῦτα μὲν λέγουσι, 
+μῖξιν δὲ ἐπίκοινον τῶν γυναικῶν ποιέονται, οὔτε 
+συνοικέοντες κτηνηδὀν τε μισγόμενοι. ἐπεὰν δὲ 
+γυναικὶ τὸ παιδίον ἁδρὸν γένηται, συμφοιτῶσι 
+ἐς τὠυτὸ οἱ ἄνδρες τρίτου µηνός, καὶ τῷ ἂν οἴκῃ 
+τῶν ἀνδρῶν τὸ παιδίον, τούτου παῖς νομίζεται. 
+181. Οὗτοι μὲν οἱ | παραθαλάσσιοι τῶν νομάδων 
+Λιβύων εἰρέαται, ὑπὲρ δὲ τούτων ἐς μεσόγαιαν 7) 
+0 ηριώδης ἐστὶ Λιβύη, ὑπὲρ δὲ τῆς θηριώδεος 
+ὀφρύη ψάµµης κατήκει παρατείνουσα ἀπὸ 87- 
+Βέων τῶν Αἰγυπτιέων € ἐπ᾿ Ἡρακλέας στήλας. ἐν 
+
+
+1 Herodotus’ description is truc in so far as it points to the 
+undoubted fact of 8 caravan route from Egypt to N.W. 
+Africa; the starting-point of which, however, should be 
+Memphis and not Thebes. But his distances between identi- 
+
+
+382 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 180-181 
+
+
+whereat their maidens are parted into two bands 
+and fight each other with stones and staves, thus (as 
+they say) honouring after their people’s manner that 
+native goddess whom we call Athene. Maidens 
+that die of their wounds are called false virgins. 
+Before the girls are set fighting, the whole people 
+choose ever the fairest maiden, and equip her with 
+a Corinthian helmet and Greek panoply, to be then 
+mounted on a chariot and drawn all along the lake 
+shore. With what armour they equipped their 
+maidens before Greeks came to dwell near them, I 
+cannot say; but I suppose the armour to have been 
+Egyptian; for I hold that the Greeks got their 
+shield and helmet from Egypt. As for Athene, 
+they say that she was daughter of Poseidon and the 
+Tritonian lake, and that, being for some cause wroth 
+with her father, she gave herself to Zeus, who made 
+her his own daughter. Such is their tale. The. 
+intercourse of men and women there is promiscuous ; 
+they do not cohabit but have intercourse like cattle. 
+When a woman's child is well grown, within three 
+months thereafter the men assemble, and the child 
+is adjudged to be that man's to whom it is most 
+like. 
+
+181. I have now told of all the nomad Libyans 
+that dwell on the sea-coast. Farther inland than 
+these is that Libyan country which is haunted by 
+wild beasts, and beyond this wild beasts land there 
+runs a ridge of sand that stretches from Thebes ot 
+Egypt to the Pillars of Heracles.! After about a ten 
+
+
+fiable places are nearly always incorrect ; the whole descrip- 
+tion will not bear criticism. The reader is referred to the 
+editions of Rawlinson, Macan, and How and Wells for 
+detailed discussion of difficulties. 
+
+
+383 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δὲ τῇ ὀφρύῃ ταύτῃ μάλιστα διὰ Sica ἡμερέων 
+ὁδοῦ ἁλός ἐστι τρύφεα κατὰ χόνδρους μεγάλους 
+ἐν κολωνοῖσι, καὶ ἐν κορυφῇσι ἑκάστου τοῦ 
+κολωνοῦ ἀνακοντίξει ἐκ μέσου τοῦ ἁλὸς ὕδωρ 
+ψυχρὸν καὶ γλυκύ, περὶ δὲ αὐτὸν ἄνθρωποι 
+οἰκέουσι ἔσχατοι πρὸς τῆς ἐρήμου καὶ ὑπὲρ τῆς 
+θηριώδεος, πρῶτοι μὲν ἀπὸ Θηβέων διὰ δέκα 
+ἡμερέων ὁδοῦ ᾿Αμμώνιοι, ἔχοντες τὸ ἱρὸν ἀπὸ τοῦ 
+Θηβαιέος Atos: καὶ γὰρ τὸ] ἐν Θήβησι, ὡς καὶ 
+πρότερον εἴρηταί pot, κριοπρόσωπον τοῦ Διὸς 
+τῶγαλμα ἐστί. τυγχάνει δὲ καὶ ἄλλο σφι ὕδωρ 
+κρηναῖον ἐόν, τὸ τὸν μὲν ὄρθρον γίνεται χλιαρόν, 
+yada aie δὲ πληθυούσης ψυχρότερον, μεσαμβρίη τε 
+ἐστὶ καὶ τὸ κάρτα γίνεται ψυχρόν' τηνικαῦτα ὲ 
+ἄρδουσι τοὺς κήπους" ἀποκλινομένης δὲ τῆς 
+ἡμέρης ὑπίεται τοῦ ψυχροῦ, ἐς οὗ δύεταί τε ὦ 
+ἥλιος καὶ τὸ ὕδωρ γίνεται χλιαρόν" ἐπὶ δὲ μᾶλλον 
+ἰὸν ἐς τὸ θερμὸν ἐς μέσας νύκτας πελάζει, τηνι- 
+καῦτα δὲ ξέει ἀμβολάδην" παρέρχονταί, τε μέσαι 
+νύκτες καὶ ψύχεται μέχρι ἐς ἠῶ. ἐπίκλησιν δὲ 
+ud κ κρήνη καλέεται ἡλίου. 
+
+. Μετὰ δὲ ᾿Αμμωνίους διὰ τῆς ὀφρύης τῆς 
+ἐν. δι᾽ ἀλλέων δέκα ἡ ἡμερέων ὁδοῦ κολωνός τε 
+ἁλός ἐστι ὅμοιος τῷ ᾿Αμμωνίῳ καὶ ὕδωρ, καὶ ἄν- 
+θρωποι περὶ αὐτὸν οἰκέουσι: τῷ δὲ χώρῳ τούτῳ 
+οὔνομα Λὔγιλα ἐστί. ἐς τοῦτον τὸν χῶρον οἱ 
+Νασαμῶνες ὁ ὁπωριεῦντες τοὺς φοίνικας φοιτῶσι. 
+
+189. ᾿Απὸ δὲ Αὐγίλων διὰ δέκα ἡμερέων 
+ἀλλέων ὁδοῦ ἕτερος ἁλὸς κολωνὸς καὶ ὕδωρ καὶ 
+φοίνικες καρποφόροι πολλοί, κατά περ καὶ ἐν 
+τοῖσι ἑτέροισι καὶ ἄνθρωποι οἰκέουσι ἐν αὐτῷ 
+
+
+1 [τὸ] Stein; and the article certainly makes the grammar 
+difficult. 
+
+
+384 
+
+
+| 
+| 
+| 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 181-183 
+
+
+days' journey along this ridge there are masses of 
+great lumps of salt in hillocks ; on the top of every 
+hillock a fountain of cold sweet water shoots up 
+from the midst of the salt; men dwell round it who 
+are farthest away towards the desert and inland from 
+the wild beasts' country. The first on the journey 
+from Thebes, ten days distant from that place, are 
+the Ammonians, who follow the worship of the 
+Zeus of Thebes; for, as I have before said, the 
+image of Zeus at Thebes has the head of a ram. 
+They have another spring of water besides, which 
+is warm at dawn, and colder at market-time, and 
+very cold at noon ; and it is then that they water their 
+gardens; as the day declines the coldness abates, 
+till at sunset the water grows warm. It becomes 
+ever hotter and hotter till midnight, and then it 
+boils and bubbles; after midnight it becomes ever 
+cooler till dawn. This spring is called the spring of 
+the sun. 
+
+182. At a distance of ten days' journey again 
+from the Ammonians along the sandy ridge, there is 
+a hillock of salt like that of the Ammonians, and 
+springs of water, where men dwell; this place is 
+called Augila ; it is to this that the Nasamones are 
+wont to come to gather palm-fruit. 
+
+183. Afterten days' journey again from Augila th ere 
+is yet another hillock of salt and springs of water 
+and many fruit-bearing palms, as at the other places; 
+
+
+385 
+
+
+VOL. II. í C C 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τοῖσι οὔνομα Γαράμαντες ἐστί, ἔθνος μέγα to- 
+χυρῶς, οἳ ἐπὶ τὸν ἅλα γῆν ἐπιφορέοντες οὕτω 
+σπείρουσι. συντομώτατον ὃ ἐστὶ ἐς τοὺς Λωτο- 
+φάγους, ἐκ τῶν τριήκοντα ἡμερέων ἐς αὐτοὺς ὀδός 
+ἐστι ἐν τοῖσι καὶ οἱ ὀπισθονόμοι βόες γίνονται" 
+ὀπισθονόμοι δὲ διὰ τόδε εἰσί. τὰ κέρεα ἔχουσι 
+κεκυφότα ἐς τὸ ἔμπροσθε: διὰ τοῦτο ὀπίσω ἀναχω- 
+ρέοντες νέμονται" ἐς γὰρ τὸ ἔμπροσθε οὐκ οἷοί τε 
+εἰσὶ προεμβαλλόντων ἐς τὴν γῆν τῶν κερέων. 
+ἄλλο δὲ οὐδὲν διαφέρουσι τῶν ἄλλων βοῶν ὅτι μὴ 
+τοῦτο καὶ τὸ δέρμα ἐς παχύτητά τε καὶ τρῖψιν. 
+οἱ Γαράμαντες δὴ οὗτοι τοὺς τρωγλοδύτας Αἰθίο- 
+πας θηρεύουσι τοῖσι τεθρίπποισι: οἱ γὰρ τρω- 
+γλοδύται Αἰθίοπες πόδας τάχιστοι ἀνθρώπων 
+πάντων εἰσὶ τῶν ἡμεῖς πέρι λόγους ἀποφερομένους 
+ἀκούομεν. σιτέονται δὲ οἱ τρωγλοδύται ὄφις καὶ 
+σαύρους καὶ τὰ τοιαῦτα τῶν ἑρπετῶν' γλῶσσαν 
+δὲ οὐδεμιῇ ἄλλη παρομοίην νενομίκασι, ἀλλὰ 
+τετρίγασι κατά περ αἱ νυκτερίδες. 
+
+184. ᾿Απὸ δὲ Γαραμάντων δι ἀλλέων δέκα 
+ἡμερέων ὁδοῦ ἄλλος ἁλός τε κολωνὸς καὶ ὕδωρ, 
+καὶ ἄνθρωποι περὶ αὐτὸν οἰκέουσι τοῖσι οὔνομα 
+ἐστὶ ᾿Ατάραντες, of ἀνώνυμοι εἰσὶ μοῦνοι av- 
+θρώπων τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν: ἁλέσι μὲν γάρ σφι ἐστὶ 
+᾿Ατάραντες οὔνομα, ἑνὶ δὲ ἑκάστῳ αὐτῶν οὔνομα 
+οὐδὲν κέεται. οὗτοι τῷ ἡλίῳ ὑπερβάλλοντι κατα- 
+ρῶνται καὶ πρὸς τούτοισι πάντα τὰ αἰσχρὰ 
+λοιδορέονται, ὅτι σφέας καίων ἐπιτρίβει, αὐτούς 
+τε τοὺς ἀνθρώπους καὶ τὴν χώρην αὐτῶν. μετὰ 
+δὲ δι᾽ ἀλλέων δέκα ἡμερέων ἄλλος, κολωνὸς ἁλὸς 
+καὶ ὕδωρ, καὶ ἄνθρωποι περὶ αὐτὸν οἰκέουσι. 
+ἔχεται δὲ τοῦ ἁλὸς τούτου ὄρος τῷ οὔνομα ἐστὶ 
+386 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 183-184 
+
+
+men dwell there called Garamantes, an exceeding 
+great nation, who sow in earth which they have laid 
+on the salt. Hence is the shortest way to the Lotus- 
+eaters’ country, thirty days’ journey distant. Among 
+the Garamantes are the oxen that go backward as 
+they graze; whereof the reason is that their horns 
+curve forward; therefore they walk backward in 
+their grazing, not being able to go forward, seeing - 
+that the horns would project into the ground. In 
+all else they are like other oxen, save that their hide 
+is thicker, and different to the touch. These Gara- 
+mantes go in their four-horse chariots chasing the 
+cave-dwelling Ethiopians: for the Ethiopian cave- 
+dwellers are swifter of foot than any men of whom 
+tales are brought to us. They live on snakes, and 
+lizards, and such-like creeping things. Their speech 
+is like none other in the world; it is like the 
+squeaking of bats. 
+
+184. After another ten days’ journey from the 
+Garamantes there is again a salt hillock and water; 
+men dwell there called Atarantes. These are the 
+only men known to us who have no names; for the 
+whole people are called Atarantes, but no man has a 
+name of his own. These when the sun is exceeding 
+hot curse and most foully revile him, for that his 
+burning heat afflicts their people and theirland. After 
+another ten days' journey there is again a hillock 
+of salt, and water, and men dwelling there. Near 
+to this salt is à mountain called Atlas, the shape 
+
+
+387 
+cc 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+LÁ y \ λ M \ / 
+Ατλας, ἔστι δὲ στεινὸν καὶ κυκλοτερὲς πάντη, 
+e Ν . e / / ο 
+ὑψηλὸν δὲ οὕτω δή τι λέγεται ὡς τὰς κορυφὰς 
+αὐτοῦ οὐκ οἷά τε εἶναι ἰδέσθαι: οὐδέκοτε γὰρ 
+
+, 
+αὐτὰς ἀπολείπειν νέφεα οὔτε θέρεος οὔτε χει- 
+^ ^ N ld ^ ^ , 
+μῶνος. «τοῦτο τὸν κίονα τοῦ οὐρανοῦ λέγουσι 
+, ^ 
+οἱ ἐπιχώριοι εἶναι. ἐπὶ τούτου τοῦ ὄρεος οἱ ἄν- 
+/ 
+θρωποι οὗτοι ἐπώνυμοι ἐγένοντο' καλέονται γὰρ 
+δὴ LÁ / δὲ kad » δὲ 
+n Ατλαντες. λέγονται δὲ οὔτε ἔμψυχον οὐδὲν 
+, 6 ^ 
+σιτέεσθαι οὔτε ἐνύπνια ὁρᾶν. 
+^ , / 
+185. Μέχρι μὲν δὴ τῶν ᾿Ατλάντων τούτων ἔχω 
+»" "^ 9 . 
+
+τὰ οὐνόματα τῶν ἐν τῇ ὀφρύῃ κατοικημένων 
+καταλέξαι, τὸ ὃ ἀπὸ τούτων οὐκέτι. διήκει δ 
+4 ε 2 ,c , ε , ) ν ` 
+ὧν ἡ ὀφρύη μέχρι Ἡρακλέων στηλέων καὶ τὸ 
+ἔξω τουτεων. ἔστι δὲ ἁλός τε μέταλλον ἐν αὐτῇ 
+
+[4 A y * 
+
+διὰ δέκα ἡμερέων ὁδοῦ καὶ ἄνθρωποι οἰκέοντες. 
+
+τὰ δὲ οἰκία τούτοισι πᾶσι ἐκ τῶν ἀλίνων χόνδρων 
+, ^ A ^ 
+
+οἰκοδομέαται. ταῦτα yap ἤδη τῆς Λιβύης 
+
+, , 
+
+dvouspa ἐστί' οὐ γὰρ ἂν ἠδυνέεατο μένειν οἱ 
+
+^ 37 σ > e e δὲ ^ , )0 ὶ 
+
+τοῖχοι ἐόντες ἄλινοι, εἰ ὗε. ὁ δὲ AAS αὐτόθι κα 
+
+ν ΄ 
+λευκὸς καὶ πορφύρεος τὸ εἶδος ὀρύσσεται. ὑπὲρ 
+- ’ 
+
+δὲ τῆς ὀφρύης τὸ πρὸς νότου καὶ ἐς μεσόγαιαν 
+m ; m \ xy \ y 
+
+τῆς Λιβύης ἔρημος καὶ avudpos καὶ ἄθηρος καὶ 
+
+\ 
+
+ἄνομβρος καὶ ἄξυλος ἐστὶ ἡ χώρη, καὶ ἰκμάδος 
+ἐστὶ ἐν αὐτῇ οὐδέν. 
+
+186. Οὕτω μὲν μέχρι τῆς Τριτωνίδος λίμνης 
+
+
+, , 3 / 
+ἀπ Αἰγύπτου νομάδες εἰσὶ κρεοφάγοι τε καὶ: 
+
+
+γαλακτοπόται Λίβυες, καὶ θηλέων τε βοῶν οὔτι 
+/ 
+
+γευόμενοι, διότι περ οὐδὲ Αἰγύπτιοι, καὶ Ùs οὐ 
+/ ^ , / » v9 4 
+
+τρέφοντες. βοῶν μεν νυν θηλέων οὐδ᾽ αἱ Κυρη- 
+
+
+’ ^ ^ , \ M > cá 
+ναίων γυναῖκες δικαιεῦσι πατέεσθαι διὰ τὴν ἐν 
+
+
+Αἰγύπτῳ Ἶσιν, ἀλλὰ καὶ νηστηίας αὐτῇ καὶ 
+
+
+388 ` 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 184-186 
+
+
+whereof is slender and a complete circle ; and it is said 
+to be so high that its summits cannot be seen, for 
+cloud is ever upon them winter and summer. The 
+people of the country call it the pillar of heaven. 
+These men have got their name, which is Atlantes, 
+from this mountain. It is said that they eat no 
+living creature, and see no dreams in their sleep. 
+
+185. I know and can tell the names of all the 
+peoples that dwell on the ridge as far as the Atlantes, 
+but no farther than that. But this I know, that the 
+ridge reaches as far as the Pillars of Heracles and 
+" beyond them. There is a mine of salt on it a ten 
+days' journey distant from the Atlantes, and men 
+dwell there. Their houses are all built of the blocks 
+of salt; here begins the part of Libya where no rain 
+falls; for the walls, being of salt, could not stand 
+firm if there were rain. The salt which is dug from 
+this mine is both white and purple. Beyond this 
+ridge the southern and inland parts of Libya are 
+desert and waterless; no wild beasts are there, nor 
+rain, nor forests ; this region is wholly without 
+. moisture. 
+
+186. Thus from Egypt to the Tritonian lake, the 
+Libyans are nomads that eat meat and drink milk; 
+for the same reason as the Egyptians too pro- 
+fess, they will not touch the flesh of cows; and they 
+rear no swine. The women of Cyrene too deem it 
+wrong to eat cows' flesh, because of the Isis of 
+Egypt; nay, they even honour her with fasts and 
+
+
+389 
+
+
+HERODOTUS, 
+
+
+ὁρτὰς ἐπιτελέουσι: αἱ δὲ τῶν Βαρκαίων γυναῖκες 
+οὐδὲ ὑῶν πρὸς τῇσι Bovoi γεύονται. 
+
+181. Ταῦτα μὲν δὴ οὕτω ἔχει. τὸ δὲ πρὸς 
+ἑσπέρης τῆς Τριτωνίδος λίμνης οὐκέτι νομάδες 
+εἰσὶ Λίβυες οὐδὲ νόμοισι τοῖσι αὐτοῖσι χρεώμενοι, 
+οὐδὲ κατὰ τὰ παιδία ποιεῦντες οἷόν τι καὶ οἱ 
+νομάδες ἐώθασι ποιέειν. οἱ γὰρ δὴ τῶν Λιβύων 
+νομάδες, εἰ μὲν πάντες, οὐκ ἔχω ἀτρεκέως τοῦτο 
+εἰπεῖν, ποιεῦσι δὲ αὐτῶν συχνοὶ τοιάδε: τῶν 
+παιδίων τῶν σφετέρων, ἐπεὰν τετραέτεα γένηται, 
+οἴσπῃ προβάτων καίουσι τὰς ἐν τῇσι κορυφῇσι 
+φλέβας, μετεξέτεροι δὲ αὐτῶν τὰς ἐν τοῖσι κροτά- 
+φοισι, τοῦδε εἵνεκα ὡς μή. σφεας ἐς τὸν πάντα 
+χρόνον καταρρέον φλέγμα ἐκ τῆς κεφαλῆς δηλέ- 
+ηται. καὶ διὰ τοῦτο σφέας λέγουσι εἶναι ὑγιηρο- 
+τάτους" εὐσὶ γὰρ ὡς ἀληθέως οἱ Λίβυες ἀνθρώπων 
+πάντων ὑγιηρότατοι τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν, εἰ .μὲν διὰ 
+τοῦτο, οὐκ ἔχω ἀτρεκέως εἰπεῖν, ὑγιηρότατοι δ᾽ 
+
+
+ὧν εἰσί. ἦν δὲ καίουσι τὰ παιδία σπασμὸς emu 
+
+
+γένηται, ἐξεύρηταί σφι ἄκος' τράγου γὰρ οὗρον 
+σπείσαντες ῥύονται σφέα. λέγω δὲ τὰ λέγουσι 
+αὐτοὶ Λίβυες. 
+
+188. Θυσίαι δὲ τοῖσι νομάσι εἰσὶ aide: ἐπεὰν 
+τοῦ ὠτὸς ἀπάρξωνται τοῦ κτήνεος, ῥιπτέουσι 
+ὑπὲρ τὸν δόμον, τοῦτο δὲ ποιήσαντες ἀποστρέ- 
+φουσι τὸν αὐχένα αὐτοῦ" θύουσι δὲ ἡλίῳ καὶ 
+σελήνη μούνοισι, τούτοισι μέν νυν πάντες Λί- 
+βυες θύουσι, ἆ ἀτὰρ οἱ περὶ τὴν Τριτωνίδα λίμνην 
+νέμοντες τῇ ᾿Αθηναίῃ μάλιστα, μετὰ δὲ τῷ Τρί- 
+τωνι καὶ τῷ Ποσειδέωνι. 
+
+189. Τὴν δὲ ἄρα ἐσθῆτα καὶ τὰς αἰγίδας τῶν 
+ἀγαλμάτων τῆς ᾿Αθηναίης ἐκ τῶν Λιβυσσέων 
+
+
+390 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 186-189 
+
+
+festivals; and the Barcaean women refuse to eat ΄ 
+swine too as well as cows. 
+
+187. Thus it is with this region. But westward of 
+the Tritonian lake the Libyans are not nomads; they 
+follow not the same usages, nor treat their children 
+as the nomads are wont to do. For the practice of 
+many Libyan nomads (I cannot with exactness say 
+whether it be the practice of all) is to take their 
+children when four years old, and with grease of 
+sheep's wool to burn the veins of their scalps or 
+sometimes of their temples, that so the children may 
+be never afterwards afflicted by phlegm running 
+down from the head. They say that this makes their 
+children most healthy. In truth no men known to 
+us are so healthy as the Libyans; whether it be by 
+reason of this practice, I cannot with exactness say ; 
+but most healthy they certainly are. When the 
+children smart from the pain of the burning the 
+Libyans have found a remedy, which is, to heal them 
+by moistening with goats’ urine. This is what the 
+Libyans themselves say. 
+
+188. The nomads' manner of sacrificing is to cut a 
+piece from the victim's ear for first-fruits and throw 
+it over the house; which done they wring the 
+victim's neck. They sacrifice to no gods save the 
+sun and moon; that is, this is the practice of the 
+whole nation ; but the dwellers by the Tritonian lake 
+sacrifice to Athene chiefly, and next to Triton and 
+Poseidon. l 
+
+189. It would seem that the robe and aegis of the 
+
+„images of Athene were copied by the Greeks from 
+
+
+391 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐποιήσαντο οἱ Ελληνες πλὴν γὰρ ἢ ὅτι σκυτίνη 
+7 ἐσθὴς τῶν Λιθυσσέων ἐστὶ καὶ οἱ θύσανοι οἱ ἐκ 
+τῶν αἰγίδων αὐτῇσι οὐκ ὄφιες εἰσὶ ἀλλὰ ἱμάντινοι, 
+τά Aye 1 ἄλλα πάντα κατὰ τὠυτὸ ἔσταλται. καὶ δὴ 
+καὶ τὸ οὔνομα κατηγορέει ὅτι ἐκ Λιβύης ἥκει ἡ 
+στολὴ τῶν Παλλαδίων' αἰγέας γὰρ περιβάλ- 
+λονται ψιλὰς περὶ τὴν ἐσθῆτα θυσανωτὰς αἱ 
+Λίβυσσαι κεχριμένας ἐρευθεδάνῳ, ἐκ δὲ τῶν 
+αἰγέων τουτέων αἰγίδας οἱ "Ελληνες μετωνόμασαν. 
+δοκέει Ò ἔμοιγε καὶ ὀλολυγὴ ἐν ἱροῖσι ἐνθαῦτα 
+πρῶτον γενέσθαι" κάρτα γὰρ ταύτῃ χρέωνται 
+καλῶς ai Λίβυσσαι. καὶ τέσσερας ἵππους συζευ- 
+γνύναι παρὰ Λιβύων οἱ “Ελληνες μεμαθήκασι, 
+
+190. Θάπτουσι δὲ τοὺς ἀποθνήσκοντας οἱ νο- 
+μάδες κατά περ ot” EXXqves, πλὴν Νασαμώνων' 
+οὗτοι δὲ -κατηµμένους θάπτουσι, φυλάσσοντες, 
+ἐπεὰν ἀπιῇ τὴν ψυχήν, ὅ ὅκως μιν κατίσουσι μηδὲ 
+ὕπτιος ἀποθανέεται. οἰκήματα δὲ σύμπηκτα ἐξ 
+ἀνθερίκων ἐνειρμένων | περὶ σχοίνους ἐστί, καὶ 
+ταῦτα περιφορητά. νόμοισι μὲν τοιούτοισι οὗτοι 
+χρέωνται. 
+
+191. Τὸ δὲ πρὸς ἑσπέρης τοῦ Τρίτωνος ποταμοῦ 
+Αὐσέων ἔχονται ἀροτῆρες ἤδη Λίβυες καὶ οἰκίας 
+νομίξοντες ἐκτῆσθαι, τοῖσι οὔνομα κέεται Μάξυες" 
+οἳ τὰ ἐπὶ δεξιὰ τῶν κεφαλέων κομόωσι, τὰ ὃ ἐπ 
+ἀριστερὰ κείρουσι, τὸ δὲ σῶμα χρίονται μίλτῳ. 
+φασὶ δὲ οὗτοι εἶναι τῶν ἐκ Τροίης ἀνδρῶν. ἡ δὲ 
+
+
+1 The aegis is the conventional buckler of Pallas. Pro- 
+bably the conservatism of religious art retained for the 
+warrior goddess the goatskin buckler which was one of the 
+earliest forms of human armour. 
+
+3 The ὀλολυγή (says Dr. Macan) was proper to the worship 
+
+
+392 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 189-19: 
+
+
+the Libyan women ; for save that the dress of Libyan 
+women is leathern, and that the tassels of their goat- 
+skin bucklers are not snakes but made of thongs of 
+hide, in all else their equipment is the same. Nay, 
+the very name bewrays that the raiment of the 
+statues of Pallas has come from Libya; for Libyan 
+women wear bairless tasselled goatskins over their 
+dress, coloured with madder, and the Greeks have 
+changed the name of these into their “ aegis.” 1 
+Further, to my thinking the ceremonial chant? first 
+took its rise in Libya: for the women of that country 
+chant very tunefully. And it is from the Libyans 
+that the Greeks have learnt to drive four-horse 
+chariots. | 
+
+190. The dead are buried by the nomads in Greek 
+fashion, save by the Nasamones. These bury their 
+dead sitting, being careful to make the dying man 
+sit when he gives up the ghost, and not die lying 
+supine. Their dwellings are compact of asphodel- 
+stalks § twined about reeds; they can be carried 
+hither and thither. Such are the Libyan usages. 
+
+191. Westward of the river Triton and next to 
+the Ausees begins the country of Libyans who till 
+the soil and possess houses; they are called Maxyes; 
+they wear their hair long on the right side of their 
+heads and shave the left, and they paint their bodies 
+with vermilion. These claim descent from the men 
+who came from Troy. Their country, and the rest 
+
+
+of Athene; a cry of triumph or exultation, perhaps of 
+Eastern origin and connected with the Semitic Hallelu 
+(which survives in Hallelu-jah). 
+
+* Asphodel is a long-stalked plant. The name has acquired 
+picturesque associations; but Homer's '' asphodel meadow ” 
+is in the unhappy realm of the dead, and is intended clearly 
+to indicate a place of rank weeds. 
+
+
+393 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+χώρη αὕτη τε καὶ ἡ λοιπὴ τῆς Λιβύης ἡ πρὸς 
+ἑσπέρην πολλῷ θηριωδεστέρη τε καὶ δασυτέρη 
+ἐστὶ τῆς τῶν νομάδων χώρης. ἡ μὲν γὰρ δὴ 
+πρὸς τὴν ἠῶ τῆς Λιβύης, τὴν οἱ νομάδες νέμουσι, 
+ἐστὶ ταπεινή τε καὶ ψαμμώδης μέχρι τοῦ Τρί- 
+τωνος ποταμοῦ, ἡ δὲ ἀπὸ τούτου τὸ πρὸς ἑσπέρην 
+ἡ τῶν ἀροτήρων ὀρεινή τε κάρτα καὶ δασέα καὶ 
+θηριώδης: καὶ γὰρ οἱ ὄφιες οἱ ὑπερμεγάθεες καὶ οἱ 
+λέοντες κατὰ τούτους εἰσὶ καὶ οἱ ἐλέφαντές τε καὶ 
+ἄρκτοι καὶ ἀσπίδες τε καὶ ὄνοι οἱ τὰ κέρεα ἔχον- 
+τες καὶ οἱ κυνοκέφαλοι καὶ οἱ ἀκέφαλοι οἱ ἐν 
+τοῖσι στήθεσι τοὺς ὀφθαλμοὺς ἔχοντες, ὡς δὴ 
+λέγονταί γε ὑπὸ Λιβύων, καὶ οἱ ἄγριοι ἄνδρες καὶ 
+γυναῖκες ἄγριαι, καὶ ἄλλα πλήθεϊ πολλὰ θηρία 
+ἀκατάψευστα. 
+
+193, Κατὰ τοὺς νομάδας δὲ ἐστὶ τούτων οὐδέν, 
+ἀλλ ἄλλα τοιάδε, πύγαργοι καὶ ζορκάδες καὶ 
+βουβάλιες καὶ ὄνοι, οὐκ οἱ τὰ κέρεα ἔχοντες ἀλλ᾽ 
+ἄλλοι ἄποτοι (οὐ γὰρ δὴ πίνουσι), καὶ ὄρυες, τῶν 
+τὰ κέρεα τοῖσι φοΐνιξι οἱ πήχεες ποιεῦνται (μέγα- 
+θος δὲ τὸ θηρίον τοῦτο κατὰ βοῦν ἐστι), καὶ βασ- 
+σάρια καὶ ὕαιναι καὶ ὕστριχες καὶ κριοὶ ἄγριοι 
+καὶ δίκτυες καὶ θῶες καὶ πάνθηρες καὶ Bopves, 
+καὶ κροκόδειλοι ὅσον τε τριπήχεες χερσαῖοι, τῆσι 
+σαύρησι ἐμφερέστατοι, καὶ στρουθοὶ κατάγαιοι, 
+καὶ ὄφιες μικροί, κέρας èv ἕκαστος ἔχοντες" ταῦτά 
+τε δὴ αὐτόθι ἐστὶ θηρία καὶ τά περ τῇ ἄλλη, 
+πλὴν ἐλάφου τε καὶ ὑὸς ἀγρίου: ἔλαφος δὲ καὶ ὃς 
+ἄγριος ἐν Λιβύη πάμπαν οὐκ ἔστι. μυῶν δὲ 
+γένεα τριξὰ αὐτόθι ἐστί: of μὲν δίποδες καλέον- 
+ται, οἳ δὲ ζεγέριες (τὸ δὲ οὔνομα τοῦτο ἐστὶ μὲν 
+Λιβυστικόν, δύναται δὲ κατ᾽ Ἑλλάδα γλῶσσαν 
+
+
+394 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 191-192 
+
+
+of the western part of Libya, is much fuller of wild 
+beasts and more wooded than the country of the 
+nomads. For the eastern region of Libya, which 
+the nomads inhabit, is low-lying and sandy as far as 
+the river Triton; but the land westward of this, 
+where dwell the tillers of the soil, is exceeding 
+hilly and wooded and full of wild beasts. In that 
+country are the huge snakes, and the elephants and 
+bears and asps, the horned asses, the dog-headed 
+men and the headless that have their eyes in their 
+breasts, as the Libyans say, and the wild men and 
+women, besides many other creatures not fabulous. 
+192. But in the nomads' country there are none 
+of these; yet there are others, gazelles of divers 
+kinds, asses, not the horned asses, but those that are 
+called undrinking (for indeed they never drink), 
+antelopes of the bigness of an ox, the horns whereof 
+are made into the sides of a lyre, foxes, hyenas, 
+porcupines, wild rams, the dictys and the borys, 
+jackals and panthers, land crocodiles three cubits 
+long, most like to lizards, and ostriches and little 
+one-horned serpents; all these beasts are there be- 
+sides those that are elsewhere too, save only deer 
+and wild swine; of these two kinds there are none 
+at all in Libya. There are in this country three 
+kinds of mice, the two-footed,? the “ zegeries ” (this 
+is a Libyan word, signifying in our language hills), 
+1 The dictys and borys are not identifiable. (But there is 
+
+
+a small African deer called the Dik-dik.) 
+2 Clearly, the jerboa. 
+
+
+395 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+βουνοί), ot δὲ ἐχινέες. εἰσὶ δὲ καὶ γαλαῖ ἐν τῷ 
+σιλφίῳ γινόμεναι τῇσι ᾿Ταρτησσίῃσι ὁμοιόταται. 
+τοσαῦτα μέν νυν θηρία ἡ ἡ τῶν νομάδων Λιθύων γῆ 
+ἔχει, ὅσον ἡμεῖς ἱστορέοντες ἐπὶ μακρότατον οἷοί 
+τε ἐγενόμεθα ἐξικέσθαι. 
+
+198. Μαξύων δὲ Λιβύων Ζαύηκες ἔχονται, 
+τοῖσι αἱ γυναῖκες ἡνιοχεῦσι τὰ ἅρματα ἐς τὸν 
+πόλεμον. 
+
+194. Τούτων δὲ Γύξαντες ἔχονται, ἐν τοῖσι μέλι 
+πολλὸν μὲν μέλισσαι κατεργεξονται, πολλῷ δ᾽ 
+ἔτι πλέον λέγεται δημιοεργοὺς ἄνδρας ποιέειν. 
+μιλτοῦνται δ' ὧν πάντες οὗτοι καὶ πιθηκο- 
+φαγέουσι" οἳ δέ σφι ἄφθονοι ὅσοι ἐν τοῖσι ὄρεσι 
+γύνονται. 
+
+195. Κατὰ τούτους δὲ λέγουσι Καρχηδόνιοι 
+κεῖσθαι νῆσον τῇ οὔνομα εἶναι Κύραυιν, μῆκος 
+μὲν διηκοσίων σταδίων, πλάτος δὲ στεινήν, δια- 
+Baróv ἐκ τῆς ἠπείρου, ἐλαιέων τε μεστὴν καὶ 
+ἀμπέλων. λίμνην δὲ ἐν αὐτῇ. εἶναι, ἐκ τῆς αἱ 
+παρθένοι τῶν ἐπιχωρίων πτεροῖσι ὀρνίθων κεχρι- 
+μένοισι πίσσῃ ἐκ τῆς ὀλύος ψηγμα ἀναφέρουσι 
+χρυσοῦ. ταῦτα εἰ μὲν ἔστι ἀληθέως οὐκ οἶδα, τὰ 
+δὲ λέγεται γράφω" εἴη Ò ἂν πᾶν, ὅκου καὶ ἐν 
+Ζακύνθῳ ἐκ λίμνης καὶ ὕδατος πίσσαν ἀναφερο- 
+μένην αὐτὸς ἐγὼ ὥ ων. εἰσὶ μὲν καὶ πλεῦνες αἱ 
+λίμναι αὐτόθι, ἡ ὃ ὧν μεγίστη αὐτέων ἑβδομή- 
+κοντα ποδῶν πάντῃ, Βάθος δὲ διόργυιος € ἐστί" ἐς 
+ταύτην KOVTOV κατιεῖσι ἐπ᾽ ἄκρῳ μυρσίνην προσ- 
+δήσαντες καὶ ἔπειτα ἀναφέρουσι τῇ μυρσίνῃ πίσ- 
+σαν, ὀδμὴν μὲν ἔχουσαν ἀσφ άλπου, τὰ δ᾽ ἄλλα 
+τῆς Πιερικῆς πίσσης ἀμείνω. ἐσχέουσι δὲ ἐς 
+λάκκον ὀρωρυγμένον ἀγχοῦ τῆς λίμνης" ἐπεὰν δὲ 
+
+
+396 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 192-195 
+
+
+and the hairy, as they are called. There are also 
+weasels found in the silphium, very like to the 
+weasels of Tartessus. So many are the wild crea- 
+tures of the nomads’ country, as far as by our utmost 
+enquiry we have been able to learn. 
+
+193. Next tothe Maxyes of Libya are the Zauekes, 
+whose women drive their chariots to war. 
+
+194. Next to these are the Gyzantes, where much 
+honey is made by bees, and much more yet (so it is 
+said) by craftsmen.! It is certain that they all paint 
+themselves with vermilion and eat apes, which do 
+greatly abound in their mountains. 
+
+195. Off their coast (say the Carchedonians) there 
+lies an island called Cyrauis, two hundred furlongs 
+long and narrow across; there is a passage to it 
+from the mainland ; it is full of olives and vines. It 
+is said that there is a lake in this island wherefrom 
+the maidens of the country draw up gold-dust out 
+of the mud with feathers smeared with pitch. I 
+know not if this be truly so; I write but what is 
+said.. Yet all things are possible; for I myself saw 
+pitch drawn from the water of a pool in Zacynthus. 
+The pools there are many ; the greatest of them is 
+seventy feet long and broad, and two fathoms deep. 
+Into this they drop a pole with a myrtle branch 
+made fast to its end, and bring up pitch on the 
+myrtle, smelling like asphalt, and for the rest better 
+than the pitch of Pieria. Then they pour it into a 
+pit that they have dug near the pool; and when 
+
+
+! cp. vii. 31, where men are said to make honey out of 
+wheat and tamarisk. 
+
+
+397 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἀθροίσωσι συχνήν, οὕτω ἐς τοὺς ἀμφορέας ἐκ τοῦ 
+λάκκου καταχέουσι. ὅ τι Ò ἂν ἐσπέσῃ ἐς τὴν 
+λύμνην, ὑπὸ γῆν ἰὸν ἀναφαίνεται ἐν τῇ θαλάσσῃ" 
+ἣ δὲ ἀπέχει ὡς τέσσερα στάδια ἀπὸ τῆς λίμνης. 
+οὕτω ὧν καὶ τὰ ἀπὸ τῆς νήσου τῆς ἐπὶ Λιβύη 
+κειμένης οἰκότα ἐστὶ ἀληθείῃ. 
+
+196. Λέγουσι δὲ καὶ i τάδε Καρχηδόνιοι. εἶναι τῆς 
+Λιβύης χῶρόν τε καὶ ἀνθρώπους ἔξω "Ἡρακλέων 
+στηλέων κατοικημένους' ἐς τοὺς ἐπεὰν ἀπίκωνται 
+καὶ ἐξέλωνται τὰ .φορτία, θέντες αὐτὰ ἐπεξῆς 
+παρὰ τὴν κυματώγην, ἐσβάντες ἐς τὰ πλοῖα 
+τύφειν καπνόν. τοὺς δ᾽ ἐπιχωρίους ἐδομένους τὸν 
+καπνὸν ἰέναι ἐπὶ τὴν θάλασσαν καὶ ἔπειτα ἀντὶ 
+τῶν φορτίων -Χρυσὸν τιθέναι καὶ ἐξαναχω ωρέειν 
+πρόσω ἀπὸ τῶν φορτίων. τοὺς δὲ Καρχη ονίους 
+ἐκβάντας σκέπτεσθαι, καὶ ἣν μὲν αίνηταί σφι 
+ἄξιος ὁ χρυσὸς τῶν φορτίων, ἀνελόμενοι ἁπαλ- 
+λάσσονται, ἦν δὲ μὴ ἄξιος, ἐσβάντες ὀπίσω ἐς τὰ 
+πλοῖα KATEATAL οἱ δὲ προσελθόντες ἄλλον πρὸς 
+ὧν ἔθηκαν χρυσόν, ἐς οὗ ἂν πείθωσι. ἀδικέειν δὲ 
+οὐδετέρους" οὔτε γὰρ αὐτοὺς τοῦ χρυσοῦ ἅπτε- 
+σθαι πρὶν ἄν σφι ἀπισωθῇ τῇ ἀξίῃ τῶν φορτίων, 
+οὔτ᾽ ἐκείνους τῶν φορτίων ἅπτεσθαι πρότερον ἢ 
+αὐτοὶ τὸ χρυσίον λάβωσι. 
+
+197. Οὗτοι μὲν εἰσὶ τοὺς ἡμεῖς ἔχομεν Λιβύων 
+ὀνομάσαι, καὶ τούτων οἱ πολλοὶ βασιλέος τοῦ 
+Μήδων οὔτε τι νῦν οὔτε τότε ἐφρόντιξον οὐδέν. 
+τοσόνδε δὲ ἔτι ἔχω εἰπεῖν περὶ τῆς χώρης ταύτης, 
+ὅτι τέσσερα ἔθνεα νέμεται αὐτὴν καὶ οὐ πλέω 
+τούτων, ὅσον ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν, καὶ τὰ μὲν δύο αὐτό- 
+
+χθονα τῶν ἐθνέων τὰ δὲ δύο οὔ, Λίβυες μὲν καὶ 
+A tiones αὐτόχθονες, οἳ μὲν τὰ πρὸς Bopéw où δὲ 
+
+
+398 
+
+
+BOOK IV, 195-197 
+
+
+much is collected there, they fill their vessels from 
+the pit. Whatever thing falls into tlie pool is 
+carried under ground and appears again in the sea, 
+which is about four furlongs distant from the pool. 
+Thus, then, the story coming from the island off the 
+Libyan coast is like the truth. 
+
+196. Another story too is told by the Carche- 
+donians. There is a place, they say, where men 
+dwell beyond the Pillars of Heracles; to this they 
+come and unload their cargo; then having laid it 
+orderly by the waterline they go aboard their ships 
+and light a smoking fire. The people of the country 
+see the smoke, and coming to the sea they lay down 
+gold to pay for the cargo and withdraw away from 
+the wares. Then the Carchedonians disembark and 
+examine the gold; if it seems to them a fair price 
+for their cargo, they take it and go their ways; but 
+if not, they go aboard again and wait, and the 
+people come back and add more gold till the ship- 
+men are satisfied. Herein neither party (it is said) 
+defrauds the other; the Carchedonians do not lay 
+hands on the gold till it matches the value of their 
+cargo, nor do the people touch the cargo till the 
+shipmen have taken the gold. 
+
+197. These are all the Libyans whom we can name, 
+and of their kings the most part cared nothing for 
+the king of the Medes at the time of which I write, 
+nor do they care for him now. I have thus much 
+further to say of this country: four nations and no 
+more, as far as our knowledge serves, inhabit it, 
+whereof two are aboriginal and two are not; the 
+Libyans in the north and the Ethiopians in the 
+
+
+399 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τὰ πρὸς νότου τῆς Λιβύης οὐκέοντες, Φοίνικες δὲ 
+καὶ Ἕλληνες ἐπήλυδες. 
+
+198. Δοκέει δέ μοι οὐδ᾽ ἀρετὴν εἶναί τις ἡ 
+Λιβύη σπουδαίη ὥστε ἡ ᾿Ασίῃ ὴ Εὐρώπῃ παρα- 
+βληθῆναι, πλὴν Κίνυπος μούνηφ᾽ τὸ γὰρ δὴ αὐτὸ 
+οὔνομα 7) γ3 τῷ ποταμῷ ἔχει. αὕτη δὲ ὁμοίη τῇ 
+ἀρίστῃ γέων. Δήμητρος καρπὸν ἐκφέρειν οὐδὲ 
+ἔοικε οὐδὲν. τῇ ἄλλῃ Λιθύῃ. μελάγγαιός τε γὰρ 
+ἐστὶ καὶ ἔπυδρος πίδαξι, καὶ οὔτε αὐχμοῦ φροντί- 
+ἕουσα οὐδὲν οὔτε ὄμβρον πλέω πιοῦσα δεδήληται' 
+ὕεται γὰρ δὴ ταῦτα τῆς Λιβύης. τῶν δὲ ἐκφορίων 
+τοῦ καρποῦ ταὐτὰ μέτρα τῇ Βαβυλωνί án γῆ κατί- 
+σταται. ἀγαθὴ δὲ γῆ καὶ τὴν Εὐεσπερῖται νέ- 
+µονται' ἐπ᾽ ἑκατοστὰ γάρ, ἐπεὰν αὐτὴ ἑωυτῆς 
+ἄριστα ἐνείκῃ, ἐκφέρει, ἣ δὲ ἐν τῇ Κίνυπι ἐπὶ 
+τριηκόσια. 
+
+199. "Ἔχει δὲ καὶ ἡ Κυρηναίη Χώρη, ἐοῦσα 
+ὑψηλοτάτη ταύτης τῆς Λιβύης πὴν οἱ νομάδες 
+νέμονται, τρεῖς ὥρας ἐν ἑωυτῇ ἀξίας. θώματος. 
+πρῶτα μὲν γὰρ τὰ παραθαλάσσια τῶν καρπῶν 
+ὀργᾷ ἀμᾶσθαί τε καὶ τρυγᾶσθαι" τούτων τε δὴ 
+συγκεκομισμένων. τὰ ὑπὲρ τῶν θαλασσιδίων 
+χώρων τὰ μέσα ὀργᾷ συγκομίξεσθαι, τὰ βουνοὺς 
+καλέουσι συγκεκόμυσταί τε οὗτος ὁ μέσος καρπὸς 
+καὶ ὁ ἐν τῇ κατυπερτάτῃ τῆς γῆς πεπαίνεταί τε 
+καὶ ὀργᾷ, ὥστε ἐκπέποταί τε καὶ καταβέβρωται 
+ὁ πρῶτος καρπὸς καὶ ὁ τελευταῖος συμπαραγί- 
+νεται. οὕτω ἐπ᾿ ὀκτὼ μῆνας Κυρηναίους ὀπώρη 
+ἐπέχει. ταῦτα μέν νυν ἐπὶ τοσοῦτον εἰρήσθω. 
+
+200. Οἱ δὲ Φερετίμης τιμωροὶ. Πέρσαι ἐπείτε 
+ἐκ τῆς Αἰγύπτου σταλέντες ὑπὸ ᾿Αρυάνδεω ἀπί- 
+κατο ἐς τὴν Βάρκην, ἐπολιόρκεον τὴν πόλιν 
+
+
+400 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 197-200 
+
+
+south of Libya are aboriginal, the Phoenicians and 
+Greeks are later settlers. 
+
+198. To my thinking, there is in no part of 
+Libya any great excellence whereby it should 
+be compared to Asia or Europe, save only in the 
+region which is called by the same name as its 
+river, Cinyps. But this region is a match for the 
+most fertile cornlands in the world, nor is it at all 
+like to the rest of Libya. For the soil is black 
+and well watered by springs, and has no fear of 
+drought, nor is it harmed by drinking excessive 
+showers (there is rain in this part of Libya) Its 
+yield of corn is of the same measure as in the land 
+of Babylon. The land inhabited by the Euhesperitae 
+is also good; it yields at the most an bundred- 
+fold ; but the land of the Cinyps region yields three 
+hundredfold. 
+
+199. The country of Cyrene, which is the highest 
+part of that Libya which the nomads inhabit, has 
+the marvellous boon of three harvest seasons. First 
+on the sea-coast the fruits of the earth are ripe for 
+reaping and plucking : when these are gathered, the 
+middle region above the coast, that which they call 
+the Hills, is ripe for gathering: and no sooner is 
+this yield of the middle country gathered than the 
+highest-lying crops are mellow amd ripe, so that the 
+latest fruits of the earth are coming in when the 
+earliest are already spent by way of food and drink. 
+Thus the Cyrenaeans have a harvest lasting eight 
+months. Of these matters, then, enough. l 
+
+200. Now when the Persians sent by Aryandes 
+from Egypt to avenge Pheretime came to Barce,! they 
+laid siege to the city, demanding the surrender of 
+
+
+1 The story broken off in ch. 167 is resumed. 
+
+
+e 401 
+VOL. U. D D 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐπαγγελλόμενοι ἐκδιδόναι τοὺς αἰτίους τοῦ φόνου 
+τοῦ ᾿Αρκεσίλεω' τῶν δὲ πᾶν γὰρ ἦν τὸ πλῆθος 
+μεταίτιον, οὐκ ἐδέκοντο τοὺς λόγους. ἐνθαῦτα 
+δὴ ἐπολιόρκεον τὴν Βάρκην ἐ ἐπὶ μῆνας ἐννέα, ὀρύσ- 
+σοντές τε ὀρύγματα ὑπόγαια φέροντα ἐς τὸ τεῖχος 
+καὶ προσβολὰς καρτερὰς ποιεύμενοι. τὰ μέν νυν 
+ὀρύγματα ἀνὴρ χαλκεὺς ἀνεῦρε ἐπιχάλκῳ ἀσπίδι, 
+ὧδε ἐπιφρασθείς- περιφέρων αὐτὴν ἐντὸς τοῦ 
+τείχεος προσῖσχε πρὸς τὸ δάπεδον τῆς πόλιος. 
+τὰ μὲν δη ἄλλα ἔσκε Kapa πρὸς τὰ προσῖσχε, 
+κατὰ δὲ τὰ ὀρυσσόμενα ἡ έεσκε L χαλκὸς τῆς 
+ἀσπίδος. ἀντορύσσοντες ὃ ἂν ταύτῃ οἱ Βαρκαῖοι 
+ἔκτεινον τῶν Περσέων τοὺς γεωρυχέοντας. τοῦτο 
+μὲν δὴ οὕτω ἐξευρέθη, τὰς δὲ προσβολὰς ἀπε- 
+κρούοντο οἱ Βαρκαῖοι. 
+
+201. Χρόνον δὲ δὴ πολλὸν τριβομένων καὶ 
+πιπτόντων ἀμφοτέρων πολλῶν καὶ οὐκ ἧσσον 
+τῶν Περσέων, Ἄμασις ὁ στρατηγὸς τοῦ πεξοῦ 
+μηχανᾶται τοιάδε. κ μαθὼν τοὺς Βαρκαίους ὡς 
+κατὰ μὲν τὸ ἰσχυρὸν οὐκ αἱρετοὶ εἶεν, δόλῳ δὲ 
+αἱρετοί, ποιέει τοιάδε: νυκτὸς τάφρην. ὀρύξας 
+εὐρέαν ἐπέτεινε ξύλα ἀσθενέα ὑπὲρ αὐτῆς, κατύ- 
+περθε δὲ ἐπιπολῆς τῶν ξύλων χοῦν γῆς ἐπεφόρησε 
+ποιέων τῇ ἄλλη γῇ ἰσόπεδον. ἅμα ἡ ἡμέρῃ. δὲ ἐς 
+λόγους προεκαλέετο τοὺς Βαρκαίους" οἳ δὲ ἆ doma- 
+στῶς ὑπήκουσαν, ἐς ὅ σφι éade ὁμολογίῃ χρή- 
+σασθαι. τὴν δὲ ὁμολογίην: ἐποιεῦντο τοιήν ε 
+τινά, ἐπὶ .τῆς κρυπτῆς τάφρου τάμνοντες ὅρκια, 
+ἔστ᾽ ἂν ἡ γῆ αὕτη οὕτω ἔχῃ, μένειν τὸ ὅρκιον 
+κατὰ χώρην, καὶ Βαρκαίους τε ὑποτελέειν φάναι 
+ἀξίην βασιλέι καὶ Πέρδας μηδὲν ἄλλο νεοχμοῦν 
+κατὰ Βαρκαίους. μετὰ δὲ τὸ ὅρκιον Βαρκαῖοι 
+
+
+402 9 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 200-201 
+
+
+those who were guilty of the slaying of Arcesilaus: 
+but the Barcaeans, whose whole people were accessory 
+to the deed, would not consent. ‘Then the Persians 
+besieged Barce for nine months, digging under- 
+ground passages leading to the walls, and making 
+violent assaults. As for the mines, a smith dis- 
+covered them by the means of a shield coated 
+with bronze, and this is how he found them: 
+carrying the shield round the inner side of the 
+walls he smote it against the ground of the city ; 
+all other places where he smote it returned but a 
+dull sound, but where the mines were the bronze 
+of the shield rang clear. Here the Barcaeans 
+made a countermine and slew those Persians who 
+were digging the earth. Thus the mines were 
+discovered, and the assaults were beaten off by the 
+townsmen. 
+
+20]. When much time was Spent and ever many 
+on both sides (but of the Persians more) were slain, 
+Amasis the general of the land army devised a plot, 
+as knowing that Barce could not be taken by force 
+but might be taken by guile: he dug by night a 
+wide trench and laid frail planks across it, which he 
+then covered over with a layer of earth level with 
+the ground about it. -Then when day came he 
+invited the Barcaeans to confer with him, and they 
+readily consented ; at last all agreed to conditions of 
+peace. This was done thus: standing on the hidden 
+trench, they gave and took a sworn assurance that 
+their treaty should hold good while the ground 
+where they stood was unchanged; the Barcaeans 
+should promise to pay a due sum to the king, 
+and the Persians should do the Barcaeans no hurt. 
+When the sworn agreement was made, the towns- 
+
+
+403 
+DDZ2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μὲν πιστεύσαντες τούτοισι αὐτοί τε ἐξήισαν ἐκ 
+τοῦ ἄστεος καὶ τῶν πολεμίων. ἔων παριέναι ἐς 
+τὸ τεῖχος τὸν βουλόμενον, τὰς πάσας πύλας 
+ἀνοίξαντες οἱ δὲ Πέρσαι καταρρήξαντες τὴν κρυπ-- 
+τὴν γέφυραν ἔθεον ἔ ἔσω ἐς τὸ τεῖχος. κατέρρηξαν 
+δὲ τοῦδε εἵνεκα τὴν ἐποίησαν γέφυραν, i ἵνα ἐμπε- 
+δο κέοιεν, ταμόντες τοῖσι Βαρκαίοισι. χρόνον 
+μένειν αἰεὶ τὸ ὅρκιον ὅσον ἂν 7) γῆ μένῃ. κατὰ 
+τότε eixe καταρρήξασι δὲ οὐκέτι ἔμενε τὸ ὅρκιον 
+κατὰ χώρην. 
+
+203. Τοὺς μέν νυν αἰτιωτάτους τῶν Βαρκαίων 
+ή Φερετίμη, ἑ ἐπείτε οἱ ἐκ τῶν Περσέων παρεδόθη- 
+σαν, ἀνεσκολόπισε κύκλῳ τοῦ τείχεος, τῶν δέ σφι 
+γυναικῶν τοὺς .μαξοὺς ἀποταμοῦσα περιέστιξε 
+καὶ τούτοισι τὸ τεῖχος" τοὺς δὲ λοιποὺς τῶν 
+Βαρκαίων ληίην ἐκέλευε θέσθαι τοὺς Πέρσας, 
+πλὴν ὅσοι αὐτῶν ἦσαν Βαττιάδαι τε καὶ τοῦ 
+φόνου οὐ μεταίτιοι: τούτοισι δὲ τὴν πόλιν ἐπέ- 
+τρεψε ἡ Φερετίμη. 
+
+203. Τοὺς ὧν δὴ λοιποὺς τῶν Βαρκαίων οἱ 
+Πέρσαι ἀνδραποδισάμενοι ἀπήισαν ὀπίσω" καὶ 
+ἐπείτε ἐπὶ τῇ Κυρηναίων πόλι ἐπέστησαν, οἱ 
+Κυρηναῖοι λόγιόν τι ἀποσιεύμενοι διεξῆκαν αὐτοὺς 
+διὰ τοῦ ἄστεος. διεξιούσης δὲ τῆς στρατιῆς 
+Βάδρης μὲν ὁ τοῦ ναυτικοῦ στρατοῦ στρατηγὸς 
+ἐκέλευε αἱρέειν τὴν πόλιν, Αμασις δὲ ὁ τοῦ πεζοῦ 
+οὐκ ča: ἐπὶ Βάρκην γὰρ ἀποσταλῆναι μούνην 
+Ἑλληνίδα πόλιν' ἐς ὃ διεξελθοῦσι καὶ ἱ ζομένοισι 
+ἐπὶ Διὸς Λυκαίου ὄχθον μετεμέλησέ σφι οὐ 
+σχοῦσι τὴν Κυρήνην. καὶ ἐπειρῶντο τὸ δεύτερον 
+παριέναι ἐς αὐτήν" οἱ δὲ Κυρηναῖοι οὐ περιώρων. 
+τοῖσι δὲ Πέρσῃσι οὐδενὸς μαχομένου φόβος ἐνέ- 
+
+
+404 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 201-203 
+
+
+men, trusting in it and opening all their gates, 
+themselves came out of the city, and suffered all 
+their enemies who so desired to enter within the 
+walls: but the Persians broke down the hidden 
+bridge and ran into the city. They broke down the 
+bridge that they had made, that so they might keep 
+the oath which they had sworn to the Barcaeans, 
+namely, that this treaty should hold good for as long 
+as the ground remained as it was; but if they broke 
+the bridge the treaty held good no longer. 
+
+202. Pheretime took the most guilty of the 
+Barcaeans, when they were delivered to him by the 
+Persians, and set them impaled round the top of the 
+wall; she cut off the breasts of their women and 
+planted them round the wall in like manner. As 
+for the remnant of the Barcaeans, she bade the 
+Persians take them as their booty, save as many 
+as were of the house of Battus and not accessory to 
+the murder; to these she committed the governance 
+of the city. 
+
+203. The Persians thus enslaved the rest of the 
+Barcaeans, and departed homewards. When they 
+halted at Cyrene, the Cyrenaeans suffered them to 
+pass through their city, that a certain oracle might 
+be fulfilled. As the army was passing through, 
+Badres the admiral of the fleet was for taking the 
+city, but Amasis the general of the land army would 
+not consent, saying that he had been sent against 
+Barce and no other Greek city ; at last they passed 
+through Cyrene and encamped on the hill of Lycaean 
+Zeus; there they repented of not having taken the 
+city, and essayed to enter it again, but the Cyren- 
+aeans would not suffer them. Then, though none 
+attacked them, fear fell upon the Persians, and they 
+
+
+405 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+πεσε, ἀποδραμόντες Te ὅσον τε ἑξήκοντα στάδια 
+(tovTo* ἱδρυθέντι δὲ τῷ στρατοπέδῳ ταύτῃ ἦλθε 
+παρὰ ᾿Αρυάνδεω ἄγγελος ἀποκαλέων αὐτούς. οἱ 
+δὲ Πέρσαι Κυρηναίων δεηθέντες ἐπόδιά σφι δοῦναι 
+ἔτυχον, λαβόντες δὲ ταῦτα ἀπαλλάσσοντο ἐς τὴν 
+Αἴγυπτον. παραλαβόντες δὲ τὸ ἐνθεῦτεν αὐτοὺς 
+Λίβυες τῆς, τε ἐσθῆτος εἵνεκα καὶ τῆς σκευῆς τοὺς 
+ὑπολειπομένους αὐτῶν καὶ ἐπελκομένους ἐφόνευον, 
+ἐς ὃ ἐς τὴν Αἴγυπτον ἀπίκοντο. 
+
+204. Οὗτος ὁ Περσέων στρατὸς τῆς Διβύης 
+ἑκαστάτω ἐς ὐεσπερίδας ἦλθε. τοὺς δὲ ἦνδρα- 
+ποδίσαντο τῶν Βαρκαίων, τούτους δὲ ἐκ τῆς 
+Αἰγύπτου ἀνασπάστους ἐποίησαν παρὰ βασιλέα, 
+βασιλεὺς δέ σφι Δαρεῖος ἔδωκε τῆς Βακτρίης 
+χώρης κώμην ἐγκατοικῆσαι. οἳ ; δὲ τῇ κώμῃ ταύτῃ 
+οὔνομα ἔθεντο. Βάρκην, ñ ἥ περ ἔτι καὶ ἐς ἐμὲ ἣν 
+οἰκεομένη ἐν γῇ τῇ Βακτρίῃ. 
+
+905. Οὐ μὲν οὐδὲ ἡ Φερετίμη εὖ τὴν (θην κατέ- 
+πλεξε. ὡς γὰρ δὴ τάχιστα ἐκ τῆς Λιβύης τισα- 
+μένη τοὺς Βαρκαίους ἀπενόστησε ἐς τὴν Αἴγυπτον, 
+ἀπέθανε κακῶς" ζῶσα γὰρ εὐλέων ἐξέξεσε, ὡς 
+ἄρα ἀνθρώποισι αἱ λίην ἰσχυραὶ τιμωρίαι πρὸς 
+θεῶν ἐπίφθονοι γίνονται" ἐκ μὲν δὴ Φερετίμης 
+τῆς Βάττου τοιαύτη τε καὶ τοσαύτη τιμωρίη 
+ἐγένετο ἐς Βαρκαίους. 
+
+
+406 
+
+
+BOOK IV. 203-205 
+
+
+fled to a place sixty furlongs distant and there en- 
+camped ; and presently while they were there a 
+messenger from Aryandes came to the camp bidding 
+them return. The Persians asked and obtained of 
+the Cyrenaeans provisions for their march, having 
+received which they departed, to go to Egypt; but 
+after that they fell into the hands of the Libyans, 
+. who slew the laggards and stragglers of the host for 
+the sake of their garments and possessions ; till at 
+last they came to Egypt. | 
+
+904. This/Persian armament advanced as far as 
+Euhesperidae in Libya and no farther. As for the 
+Barcaeans whom they had taken for slaves, they 
+carried them from Egypt into banishment and 
+brought them to the king, and Darius gave them 
+a town of Bactria to dwell in. They gave this town 
+the name Barce, and it remained an inhabited place 
+in Bactria till my own lifetime. 
+
+205. But Pheretime fared ill too, and made no 
+good ending of her life. For immediately after she 
+had revenged herself on the Barcaeans and returned 
+to Egypt, she died a foul death; her living body 
+festered and bred worms: so wroth, it would seem, 
+are the gods with over-violent human vengeance. 
+Such, and so great, was the vengeance which 
+Pheretime daughter of Battus wrought upon the 
+people of Barce. 
+
+
+497 
+
+
+Digitized by Google 
+
+
+INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 
+
+
+INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 
+
+
+Abaris, iv. 36 
+
+Aces, iii. 117 
+Achaemenes, iii. 12 
+Achaemenidae, fii. 65 
+
+
+Ad yrmachidae, iv. 168 
+
+Aeaces ei : 
+
+— (2), iv. 138 s 
+
+Aegean, iv. 85 
+
+Aegeus, iv. 149 
+
+Aegidae, iv. 149 
+
+Aegina, ος ο 191 
+
+... n üi. 1-16 et i 
+egyptus, -16 et passim 
+
+Aenus, iv. 90 
+
+Aeolia, iii. 1, 90 ; 1v. 89, 138 
+
+Aesanias, iv. 1 150 
+
+Aeschrionian tribe, lii. 26 
+
+AD OL 17, 19, 21, 25, 30, 94, 
+
+
+197 
+Agathyrsi, iv. "49, 100, 102, 103, 125 
+Agathyrsus, iv. 
+“ιν (D, iii. 64, 92 
+Agenor, MT. FU 
+Aglomachus, iv. 164 
+
+
+Alpis, i 
+
+Alas. d» w 1, 4, 10, 14, 16, 
+40-43, 47, 1 
+
+— (2), iv. 167, 2501, 203 
+
+Amazones, iv. 110-117 
+
+Ammonii, ΠΠ 25-20; iv. 181 
+
+Amphiaraus, iil. 01 
+
+Amphicrates, iti. 59 - 
+
+Amphilochus, iii. 91 
+
+
+HEROD. II. 
+
+
+Amyrtaeus, lil. 15 
+
+Anacharsis, iv. 46, 76, 77 
+
+Anacreon, iti. 121 
+
+Anaphlystus, iv. 99 
+
+Androphagi, iv. 18, 100, 102, 106, 
+119, 125 
+
+
+, 33, 64 
+
+, : dv. 15, 59, 155, 163 
+
+A pollonia, iv. 90, 93 
+
+A pries, fil. L iv, 159 
+
+4, 8, 9, 88, 91, 97, 107, 
+112; iv. 39, 42 
+
+Ararus, iv. 48 
+
+Araxes, lii. 36 ; iv. 11, 40 
+
+Arcadia, iv. 161 
+
+rUn (1), iv. 159 
+
+— (2), iv. 160 
+
+— (3), iv. 162, 164, 165, 167, 200 
+
+Archias, iil. 55 
+
+Ares, iv. 59, 62 
+
+Arge, iv. 35 
+
+Argimpasa, 1v. 59, 97. 
+
+Argippaei, iv. 23 
+
+Argo, iv. 145 179 
+
+
+Argos, ΠΠ. 131; iv. 152 
+Arian , iv. 81 
+Arlapithes, iv. 76, 78 
+Arii, iii. 
+
+
+ον, m 116 ; iv. 19-27 
+Aristagoras (1), iv. 1 138 
+
+
+Ariston, iv. 138 
+Arbtophllides, 1 iii. 196 
+Armenia, iii. 9 
+
+
+411 
+
+
+INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 
+
+
+Arpoxais, iv. 5, 6 
+
+Artabanus, Ὧν 83, 143 
+
+Artace, iv. 1 
+
+Artanes, Nl io 
+
+Artemis, iv. 33, 87 
+
+Artemisium, iv. 35 
+
+Artescus, iv. 92 
+
+Artontes, iii. 128 
+
+Artystone, iil. 88 
+
+Aryandes, iv. 166, 167, 200, 203 
+
+Asbystae, iv. 170 
+
+Asia (continent), passim, (wife of 
+Prometheus), iv. 4 
+
+Asies, iv. 45 
+
+Aspathines, iii. 70, 78 
+
+Assyria, iil. ES 195; iv, 39, 87 
+
+Astyages, lil. 6 
+
+Athene, fii. 59; πε 180, 189 
+
+Athrys, iv. 49 
+
+Atlas, iv. 49, 184 
+
+Atossa, iii. 68, 88, 133, 134 
+
+Attica, iii. 134 
+
+Auchatae, iv. 6 
+
+Augila, iv. 172, 182 
+
+Auras, iv. 49 
+
+Auschisae, iv. 171 
+
+Auses, iv. 180, 191 
+
+Autesion, iv. 147 
+
+Aziris, iv. 157, 169 
+
+
+Baoy on; iii. 89, 95, 150-159; iv. 
+
+
+Bactria, iii. 92, 102; iv. 204 
+Badres, iv.. 167, 903. 
+Bagaeus, iii. 1 
+Barce (1), iii. 13, 91; 
+171, 200-204 
+— (2), iv. 204 
+Battiadae, iv. 202 
+Battus d» iv. 150, 155, 159 
+— (2), iv. 159 
+— (3), iv. 161, 205 
+Borysthenes (river), i 5, 18, 24, 
+45, 47, 53-56, 81, 
+— (town), iv. 17, 18, 38, 74, 78 
+ἜΠΗ (Cimmerian), iv. 12. 28. 
+
+
+— (Thracian), iv. 83, 85, 86, 118 
+Brauron, iv. 145. . 
+
+Brentesium, iv. 99 
+
+Brongus, iv. 49 
+
+Budini, iv. 21, 108 
+
+Byzantium, lv. 87, 144 
+
+
+Cabales, iii, 90 
+412 
+
+
+iv. 164, 167, 
+
+
+Cabiri, fil. 37 
+
+Cadmus, iv. 147 
+
+Cadytis, iii. 5 
+
+Calasiries, iv. 180 
+
+Calchedon, iv. 85, 144 
+Callantiae, iii. 97 
+
+Callatiae, iii. 38 
+
+Callipidae, iv. 17 
+
+Calliste, iv. 147 
+
+Cambyses, passim ap. ili. 
+Carchedon, iii. 17, ΓΣ ἰν. 43, 195 
+Carcinitis, iv. 55, 
+Caria, iii. 11, 90 
+Carpathus, iii. 45 
+Carpis, iv. 
+Carystus, iv. 33 
+Casian (mountain), {1 
+Caspatyrus, iii. τ 
+Caspian, iii. 92, 9 
+Cassandane, iii. 2 
+Cassiterides, iii. 115 
+Catiari, iv. 6 
+Caucasus, iii. 97 ; iv. 12 
+
+Caucones, iv. 148 
+
+Caystrobius, iv. 13 
+
+Celtae, iv. 49 
+
+Charilaus, lii. 145 
+
+Ἢ Τι (1), iv. 99 
+
+Chorasmii, iit 93, 117 
+
+Cilicia, iii. 90 
+
+Cimmeria, iv. 1, 11, 12, 45, 100 
+Cinyps, iv. 175, 198 
+
+Cissii, iii. A 155 
+
+Cius, ‘iv. 4 
+
+Cleombrotus, iv. 81 
+
+Cleomenes, iii. 148 
+
+Cnidus, iii. 138 ; iv. 164 
+
+Cnossus, iii. 122 
+
+Coés, iv. 97 
+
+Colaeus, iv. 152 
+
+Colaxals, Iv. 5, 7 
+
+Colchi, iii. 97 ; v ah 40 
+Contadesdus, iv. 9 
+
+oe iil. 48, 49, oe, 134; iv. 162, 
+
+
+180 
+Corobius, iv. 151 
+Corys, iii. 9 
+Cotys, iv. 45 
+Cranaspes, iii. 126 
+Crete, iii. 44, 59; 
+
+
+161 
+Crobyzi, iv. 49 
+Croesus, iii. 14, 94, 36, 47 
+Croton, ili. 191, 136, 197 
+
+
+iv. 44 
+; iv. 40 
+
+
+iv. 45, 151, 154, 
+
+
+INDEX ΟΕ PROPER NAMES 
+
+
+Cydonia, iii. 44, 59 
+
+Cynetes, iv. 49 
+
+Cyprus, iii. 19, 91; iv. 162, 164 
+Cyrauis, iv. 195 
+
+Cyrene ος lii. r^ ὃν 131; iv. 154-165, 
+τρίο, ride 93 
+
+Cyrus, passim ap. lit. 
+
+Cyzicus, iv. 14, 76 
+
+
+Dadicae, iil. 91 
+Daphnis, iv. 138 
+Daritae, lil. 92 
+Darius, passim 
+Dascyleum, iii. 120, 126 
+Delos, iv. 33, 35 
+iv. 15, 150, 156, 
+
+
+Delphi, iii, 57; 
+161-163, 179° 
+Democedes, fil. 125, 129, 137 
+Demonax, iv. 161 
+Dictyne, iil. 59 
+Dion yeun l 8, 97, 111; 
+
+
+Dorians, ili. 56 
+
+
+Elephantine, iii. 19, 20 
+Elis, tii. 132 ; iv. 30, 148 
+Epaphus, iii. 27, 28 
+Epidaurus, iil. 50, 52 
+Epium, iv. 148 
+Erinyes, iv. 149 
+Erxander, iv. 97 
+Erythea, iv. 8 
+Eryxo, iv. 160 
+Etearchus, iv. 154 
+Euboea, ili. 89 ; iv. 33 
+Evelthon, iv. 162 
+Euesperides, iv. 171, 204 
+Euesperitae, iv. 198 
+Eupalinus, iil. 60 
+Euphemides, iv. 150 
+Europa, ili. 96, 115; 
+45, 49, 89, 143, 198 
+Eurysthenes, iv. 147 
+| Euxine, lii. 93; iv. 8, 10, 38, 46, 
+81, 85-87, 89, 95, 99 
+Exampaeus, iv. 52, 81 
+
+
+Gadira, iv. 8 
+
+Gandarii, iii. 91 
+
+. Garamantes, iv. 174, 183 
+Gebeleizis, iv. 94 
+
+Gelonus (1), iv. 10 
+
+— (2), iv. 102, 108, 119, 136 
+Gerrhi, iv. 53, 71 
+
+
+iv. 79, 87, 
+
+
+iv. 36, 42, 
+
+
+Gerrhus, iv. 19, 47, 53, 56 
+Geryon, iv. 8 
+
+Getae, iv. 93, 94, 96, 118 
+Giligamae, iv. 169 
+
+Gillus, iii. 138 
+
+Gindanes, iv. 176 
+Gnurus, iv. 76 
+
+Gobryas, iii. 70, 73, 78; iv. 132, 134 
+Goetosyrus, iv. 59 
+Grinnus, iv. 150 
+
+Gyges, ili. 122 
+
+Gyzantes, iv. 194 
+
+
+Haemus, iv. 49 
+
+Hebrus, iv. 90 
+
+Hellas (and Hellenes), passim 
+TUSCE iv. 38, 76, 85, 89, 90, 
+Hephaestus, iii. 37 
+
+Heracles, iv. 8-10, 59, 82 
+Heraeum, iv. 90 
+
+Hermion, iii. 59 
+
+Herophantus, iv. 138 
+
+Hesiodus, iv. 32 
+
+Hippoclus, iv. 138 
+
+Hippolaus, iv. 53 
+
+Histia, iv. 59, 127 
+
+Histiaeus, iv. 137, 138, 141 
+Homer, iv. 29, 32 
+
+Hydarnes, iii. 70 
+
+Hydrea, iii. 59 
+
+Hylaea, iv. 9, 18, 54, 55, 76 
+Hypacyris, iv. 47, 55 
+
+Hypanis, iv. 17, 18, 47, 52, 81 
+Hyperborei, iv. 13, '82, 33, "35, 36 
+Hyperoche, iv. 33-35 
+
+Hyrcani, iii. 117 
+
+Hyrgis, iv. 57 
+
+Hystaspes, iii. 70, 140 ; iv. 83, 01 
+Hytennees, iii. 90 
+
+
+Tapygia, iii. 138; iv. 99 
+Iason, iv. 179 
+Idanthyrsus, iv. 76, 120, 127 
+Ienysus, iii. 5 
+Ilithyia, iv. 35 
+Illyria, iv. 49 
+Inaros, iii. 12, 15 
+India, "ii. 38, 94-106; iv. 40, 44 
+Indus, iv. 44 
+Intaphrenes, iii. 70, 78, 118, 119 
+Ionians, iii. 39, 90, 122, 127; iv. 35, 
+89, 95, 97, 128, 133-140, 149 
+Iphigenia, iv. 103 
+Irasa, iv. 158 
+
+
+413 
+
+
+INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 
+
+
+Isis, iv. 1£6 
+
+Issedones, iv. 13, 26, 32 
+
+Istrus, iv. 47-51, 53, 80, 89, 93, 
+97-101, 118, 122, 133-136 
+
+Italia, lii. 136, 138 ; iv. 15 
+
+Itanus, iv. 151 
+
+Iyrcae, iv. 22 
+
+
+Lacedaemon, iii. 39, 54-56; iv. 
+147-149 
+
+Laius, iv. 149 
+
+Tacdemes (1 iv. 198 
+
+— (2), iv. 
+
+Laodice, iv 553, 35 
+
+Lasonii, iii. 90 
+
+Learchus, iv. 160 
+
+Lemnos, iv. 145 
+
+Lepreum, iv. 148 
+
+Lesbos, iii. 39; iv. 97 
+
+Leucon, iv. 160 
+
+P iii. 17, 96, 115 et passim 
+
+
+p. iv. 
+Lipoxals, iv. 5 
+Lotophagi, iv. 177, 183 
+Loxias, iv. 163 
+Lycaretus, fii. 143 
+Lycia, iii. 4, 90; iv. 35, 45 
+Lycophron, ἯΙ. δο, 53 
+Lycus (river), iv. 123 
+— (grandfather of Anacharsis), iv. 
+
+
+76 
+Lydia, iii. 90, 127; iv. 45 
+
+
+Macae, iv. 175 
+
+Machlyes, iv. us 180 
+
+Macistus, iv. 1 
+
+Macrones, iii. 94 
+
+Maeandrius, iii. 123, 142-148 
+
+Maeandrus, iii. 122 
+
+Maeetae, iv. 123 
+
+Maeetes (river), iv. 45 
+
+Maeetian lake, iv. 57, 101, 120 
+
+Magi, iii. 61-80, 88, 118, 126, 140, 
+150, 153; iv. 132 
+
+Magnesia, ili. 122 
+
+Magnetes, iii. 90 
+
+Mandrocles, iv. 87, 88 
+
+Manes, iv. 45 
+
+Mantinea, iv. 161 
+
+Maraphii, iv. 167 
+
+Mares, iii. 94 
+
+Mariandyni, iii, 90 
+
+Maris, iv. 49 
+
+Massagetae, iii. 36 ; 
+
+Matieni, lii. 94 
+
+
+414 
+
+
+iv. 11, 172 
+
+
+Maxyes, iv. 191 
+Medians, iii. 65, er iv. 4, 37, 40 
+Megabyzus (1), iti 153, 160 : iv. 43 
+— (2) il iii. 0, 8 
+Melanchlaent, iv. 20, 102, 107, 119 
+
+
+Melissa, iii. 50 
+Membliarus, iv. 147 
+Menelaus, iv. 160 
+Mesambria, iv. 93 
+Metrodorus, iv. 138 
+Milo, iii. 137 
+Miltiades, iv. 197 
+Milyae, iti. 90 
+Minos, iii. 122 
+Minyae, iv. 145-150 
+
+
+Mitrobates, iii, 120, 126, 127 ED 
+
+
+Mnesarchus iv. 96 
+
+Moeris, iii. 91 
+
+Moschi, iil. 94 
+
+Mossynoeci, iii. 04 
+
+Myci, iii. 93 
+
+Myriandric gulf, iv. 38 
+Myrinaei, iv. 140 
+
+Myrsus, iu. us 
+
+Mysia, iii. 90 
+
+Mytilene, fii. 13, 14 ; iv. 97 
+
+
+Naparis, iv. 48 
+
+Nasamones, iv. an 190 
+Naustrophus, iii. 60 
+
+Necos, iv. 42 
+
+Neuri, iv. 17, 51, 100, 102, 105, 119, 
+
+
+ΤῊΝ lil. 10; iv. 39, 42, 45, 60, 53. 
+Ninus, ili. 155 
+
+Nipsaei, iv. 93 
+
+Nisaea, fii. 106 
+
+Nitetis, iii. 1 
+
+Noés, iv. 49 
+
+Nudium, iv. 148 
+
+Nysa, iil. 97 
+
+
+Oarus, iv. 123 
+Oasis, iii. 26 
+Oaxus, iv. 154 
+Octamasades, iv. 80 
+Odrysae, iv. 92 
+Oebares, iil. 85 
+Oedipus, iv. 149 
+Oeobazus, iv. 84 
+Ocolycus, iv. 149 
+Olbiopolitae, iv. 18 
+Olen, iv. 35 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 
+
+
+Opis, iv. 35 
+
+Opoea, iv. 78 
+
+Ordessus, iv. 48 
+
+Oricus, iv. 78 
+
+Oroetes, ili. 120-129, 140 
+
+Orotalt, iii. 8 
+
+Orthocorybantil, iii. 92 
+
+Otanes, iii. 67-72, 76, 80, 83, 141, 
+144, 147, 149 
+
+
+Pactyes, ili. 93, 102; iv. 44 
+
+Padaei, iii. 99 
+
+Palaestina, iii. 5, 91; iv. 39 
+
+Pamphylia, iii. 90 
+
+Pantagnotus, iii. 39 
+
+Panticapes, iv. 18, 47, 54 
+
+Pantimathi, iii. 92 
+
+Papaeus, iv. 59 
+
+Paphlagones, iii. 90 
+
+Paralatae, iv. 6 i 
+
+Paricanii, iii. 02 
+
+Parmys, iil. 88 
+
+Paroreatae, iv. 148 
+
+Parthia, iii. 93, 117 
+
+2ataici, iil. 37 
+
+2atizeithes, iii. 61 
+
+Pausanias, iv. 81 
+
+Pausicae, iil. 92 
+
+ausiris, iii. 15 
+
+Pelion, iv. 179 
+
+Pelusium, iii. 10 
+
+Periander, iii. 48, 50, 53 
+
+Perinthus, iv. 90 
+
+Persae, passim 
+
+Phaedyme, iii. 68, 69 
+
+Phanes, iii. 4, 11 
+
+Pharnaspes, iii. 2, 68 
+
+Phasis, iv. 37, 38, 45, 86 
+
+Pheretime, iv. 162, 165, 107, 200, 
+
+Philes, iil. 60 
+
+Phla, iv. 178 
+
+Phoenicia, lii. 5, 19, 37, 107, 111, 
+186; iv. 39, A 44, 147 
+
+
+. 65 
+
+Platea, iv. 151-153, 156, 159 
+
+Plynus, iv. 168 
+
+Poeciles, iv. 147 
+
+Polycrates, iii. 80-46, 54, 656, 
+120-126, 128, 131, 139-142 
+
+Polymnestus, iv. 150, 155 
+
+
+Polynices, iv. 147 
+
+Porata, iv. 48 
+Poseideium, iii. 91 
+Poseidon, iv. 59, 180, 188 
+Prexaspes, iii. 30, 33, 66, 74-76, 78 
+Procles as iv. 147 
+
+— (2), iii. 50-52 
+
+Fe iv. 14 
+Prometheus, iv. 45 
+Propontis, iv. 85 
+Psammenitus, iii. 10, 13, 15 
+Psylli, iv. 173 
+
+Pyretos, iv. 48 
+
+Pyrgus, iv. 148 
+
+Pythagoras (1), iv. 95 
+
+— (2), iv. 95 
+
+
+Rhodope, iv. 49 
+Rhoecus, iii. 60 
+
+
+Salamis, iv. 162 
+Salmoxis, iv. 94-96 
+Salmydessus iv. 93 
+Samos, iii. 39 et passim 
+Sarangae, lii; 93, 117 
+Sardis, iii. 5, 48, 126, 128; 
+Saspires, iii. "94: iv. 37, 40 
+Sataspes, iv. 43° 
+Sattagydae, lil. 91 
+Saulius, iv. 76 
+Sauromatae, iv. 21, 57, 102, 110, 
+116-122, 198, 136 
+Sciton, iii. 190 
+Scoloti, iv. 6 
+Scopasis, iv. 120, 128 
+Scylax, iv. 4 44 
+Soyics, iv. 76, 78-80 
+Scythia, passim ap. iv. 
+Serbonian marsh, iii. 5 
+Sestus, iv. 143 
+Sidon, iii. 136 
+Sigeum, iv. 38 
+Sindi, iv. 28, 86 
+Sinope, iv. 12 
+Siphnus, iii. 57, 58 
+Sitalces, iv. 80° 
+Smerdis (1), iii. 30, 65-69, 71, 74, 88 
+— (2), iii. 61-80, 88 
+Sogdi, iii. 93 
+Soloéis, iv. 43 
+Sostratus, iv. 152 
+Spargapithes, iv. 73 
+
+
+iv. 45 
+
+
+415. 
+
+
+INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 
+
+
+Strattis, iv. 138 
+
+Susa, ii iif, : δῦ 64, 70, 199, 181, 140; 
+v 
+
+λος u oo 139, 141-149 
+
+a yrgis, v. 
+
+Syria, lil. g τι 
+
+
+Tabiti, iv. 59 
+er iv. 20, 45, 47, 100, 115, 120, 
+
+
+Taras, iil. 138 ; iv. 99 
+Targitaus, iv. 5 
+Tartessus, iv. 152, 192 
+Taucheira, iv. 171 
+Tauri, iv. 3, 20, 99, 103, 119 
+Taxacis, iv. 120 
+Taygetus, iv. 145, 148 
+Tearus, iv. 90, 91 
+Teaspes, iv. 43 
+Telecles, iii. 42 
+Telesarchus, iii. 143 
+Tenus, iv. 33 
+Teres, iv. 80 
+Thagimasadas, iv. 59 
+Thamanaei, lii. ee 117 
+Thannyras, iii. 1 
+Thebes (in Tey pt), iii. 10, 25; 
+v 
+P ELM iv. 86 
+Themison, iv. 154 
+Theodorus, iii. 41 
+
+
+PRINTED IN 
+
+
+GREAT BRITAIN BY THE CORNWALL PRESS, LTD., 
+PARIS GARDEN, STAMFORD STREET, LONDON, 5.Ε. T. 
+
+
+Thera, iv. 147 EU 150, 150, 164 
+Theras, iv. 147, 1 
+
+Thermodon, iv. ἐδ, 110 
+Thersandrus, i v. 
+
+Theste, iv. 150 
+
+
+; iv. τν 74, 80, 80, 
+08, 99, 104, 118,1 
+
+Thyssagetae, iv. 22, 123 
+
+Tiarantus, i 
+
+Tibareni, li 94 
+
+Tibisis, iv. 49 
+
+
+Triopium, iv. 38 
+
+ine (and ο ο iv. 178, 179, 
+Troezen, iji. 59 
+Troglodytae, iv, 183 
+
+
+ἰ 
+
+
+Troy, iv. 191 
+
+
+Tymnes, iv. 76 
+Tyndaridae, iv. 145 
+Typhon, iii. 5 
+
+Tyras, iv. 11, 47, 51, 82 
+Zacynthus, iii. 59; iv. 195 
+Zaueces iv. 193 
+
+A iit. 124, 142, 158; iv. δ, 69, 
+
+
+127, 1 
+Zopyrus, iii. 153-158, 160; iv. 43 
+
+
+This is a reproduction of a library book that was digitized 
+by Google as part of an ongoing effort to preserve the 
+information in books and make it universally accessible. 
+
+
+Google books 
+
+
+https://books.google.com 
+
+
+THE LOEB CLASSICAL LIBRARY 
+
+
+EDITED BY 
+
+
+E. CAPPS, Pu.D., LL.D. T. E. PAGE, Lirr.D. W. H. D. ROUSE, Lirr.D. 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+III 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+WITH AN ENGLISH TRANSLATION BY 
+A. D. GODLEY 
+
+
+HON, FELLOW OF MAGDALEN COLLEGE, OXFORD 
+
+
+IN FOUR VOLUMES 
+III 
+
+
+BOOKS V—VII 
+
+
+LONDON : WILLIAM HEINEMANN 
+
+
+NEW YORK : G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
+MOMXXII 
+
+
+CONTENTS 
+
+
+BOOK V- a ar. “ᾱ- uox νι οι ον. Xe το; dy X ος) Ὁ, x65 1 
+BOOK ME. Qu. xe e x κο o Med ας ο ιτ A 
+BOOK. VII. uxo. 0x de oc 2 ον OE AN X de c» 0209 
+MAPS—PELOPONNESUS «. . . . . . . . . . Abend 
+
+
+THE ROUTE OF XERXES 
+
+
+22 
+
+
+THERMOPYLAE . . . . . . . . To face p. 493 
+
+
+497771 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+IN Books V and VI, the constant intermixture of 
+references to earlier history with the actual narrative 
+makes chronology obscure and difficult. I have 
+endeavoured to make the sequence of events clearer 
+by giving dates here and there in the notes. 
+
+Book V describes, with a great many digressions, 
+the events leading to, and the beginning of, the 
+Ionian revolt against Darius. The following is a 
+brief analysis of its contents, based on the summary 
+in Stein's edition :— 
+
+Ch. 1-16. Megabazus' conquests in Europe. 
+
+Ch. 17-22. Story of a Persian embassy to 
+Macedonia, and its fate. 
+
+Ch. 28-27. Histiaeus of Miletus at the Persian 
+court; Otanes’ conquests in N*W. Asia Minor and 
+the neighbourhood. 
+
+Ch. 28-38. Troubles at Miletus and Naxos; 
+Aristagoras temporary alliance with Artaphrenes, 
+and its breach; Aristagoras instigated by Histiaeus 
+to revolt. 
+
+Ch. 39-48. Story of Anaxandrides king of Sparta 
+and his sons Cleomenes and Dorieus. Dorieus’ 
+death in Sicily; Cleomenes king of Sparta. 
+
+Ch. 49-51. Aristagoras’ unsuccessful attempt to 
+obtain a Spartan alliance; his map of Asia. 
+
+Ch. 62-04. Description of the * Royal Road" 
+from Ephesus to Susa. 
+
+
+vli 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+Ch. 55-96. Aristagoras’ visit to Athens; a long 
+digression on Athenian history. 
+
+(Ch. 55-61. The death of Hipparchus; origin of 
+the Gephyraei by whom he was killed. 
+
+Ch. 62-65. Expulsion of the Pisistratidae, by 
+Lacedaemonian help. 
+
+Ch. 66—69. Reforms of Cleisthenes at Athens, on 
+the model of those effected by an elder Cleisthenes 
+at Sicyon. 
+
+Ch. 70-73. Counter-revolution organised by Isa- 
+goras with  Lacedaemonian help; its failure; 
+Athenian embassy to Persia, without result. 
+
+Ch. 74—78. Joint attack on Athens by Lacedae- 
+monians, Boeotians, and Chalcidians; its repulse. 
+
+Ch. 79-89. Alliance of Thebes and Aegina against 
+Athens; former feud between Athens and Aegina, 
+arising out of relations between Athens and 
+Epidaurus. 
+
+Ch. 90, 91. Debate among the Spartans and their 
+allies, as to restoring Hippias at Athens. 
+
+Ch. 92. Protest of the Corinthians against this; 
+story of the Cypselid dynasty at Corinth. 
+
+Ch. 93-96. Hippias’ retirement to Sigeum ; story 
+of how Sigeum had originally been occupied by the 
+Athenians ; Hippias’ appeal to Persia for protection, 
+leading to a final breach between Persia and 
+Athens.] 
+
+Ch. 97, 98. Aristagoras’ success in obtaining 
+Athenian help. Escape of the Paeonians from Asia, 
+at his instigation. 
+
+Ch. 99-102. Sardis attacked and burnt by 
+Athenians and Ionians; their subsequent retreat. 
+
+Ch. 103, 104. Spread of the revolt in Caria and 
+Cyprus. 
+
+
+viii 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+Ch. 105-107. Histiaeus’ mission from Susa to 
+Ionia, on pretence of dealing with the revolt. 
+
+Ch. 108-115. War in Cyprus; battles by sea and 
+land; Cyprus reduced by the Persians. 
+
+Ch. 116-128. Persian victories in western Asia 
+Minor. 
+
+Ch. 124-126. Flight and death of Aristagoras. 
+
+
+Book VI continues in its earlier chapters the story 
+of the next phase of the Ionian revolts. 
+
+Ch. 1-5. Histiaeus’ return from Susa to the west, 
+and the ill-success of his enterprises there. 
+
+Ch. 5-10. Preparation of the opposing forces of 
+Persians and Ionians at Miletus; Persian attempts 
+to tamper with the Ionians. 
+
+Ch. 11-17. Dionysius’ attempt to train the 
+Ionians for battle.  Sea-fight off Lade, Samian 
+treachery, and complete victory of the Persians. 
+Bravery and misfortunes of the Chians. 
+
+Ch. 18-21. Fall of Miletus. 
+
+Ch. 22-24. Flight of certain Samians to Sicily, 
+and their treacherous occupation of Zancle. 
+
+Ch. 25-32. Further Persian successes; capture 
+and death of Histiaeus; complete suppression of 
+the Ionian revolt. 
+
+Ch. 33-41. Persian conquest of the Thracian 
+Chersonese and the towns of the Hellespont. Story 
+of the rule there of the elder Miltiades; escape 
+from the Persians of Miltiades the younger. 
+
+Ch. 42. Persian administration of Ionia. 
+
+Ch. 43-45. First expedition of Mardonius against 
+Greece (492); wreck of his fleet off Athos; his 
+return to Asia. 
+
+Ch. 46, 47. Subjection of Thasos to Persia. 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+Ch. 48-50. Darius’ demand of “ earth and water” 
+from Greek states. Aeginetans accused as traitors 
+for submitting to it. 
+
+Ch. 51-60. Digression on Spartan kingship. 
+Origin of dual system; position and privileges of 
+kings. 
+
+Ch. 61-70. Story of Demaratus; his birth; his 
+quarrel with and deposition by Cleomenes, the 
+other king. Succession of Leutychides. 
+
+Ch. 71-84. Subsequent career of Cleomenes and 
+Leutychides. Cleomenes’ war with Argos, and his 
+death (491, probably). 
+
+Ch. 85, 86. Quarrel between Leutychides and 
+Aegina; Leutychides’ demand for the restoration 
+by the Athenians of Aeginetan hostages; story of 
+Glaucus. 
+
+Ch. 87-93. Incidents in war between Athens and 
+Aegina. 
+
+Ch. 94-101. New Persian expedition against 
+. Greece under Datis and Artaphrenes. Conquest 
+of Naxos, Delos, and Eretria. 
+
+Ch. 102-108. Persian landing at Marathon in 
+Attica, with Hippias; Athenian force sent thither, 
+Miltiades one of their generals. His recent history. 
+Athenian messenger despatched to Sparta for help. 
+Reinforcement sent by Plataea. 
+
+Ch. 109-117. Battle at Marathon and complete 
+victory of the Athenians. 
+
+Ch. 118-120. Persian retreat; fortunes of the 
+Eretrians taken prisoners by the Persians; arrival 
+of Lacedaemonian reinforcements at Athens. 
+
+Ch. 121-131. Herodotus’ argument against the 
+accusation of treason brought against the Alemaeonid 
+family at Athens. Story of the family. Success 
+
+
+X 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+of one of its members in being chosen as the 
+husband of Agariste, daughter of Cleisthenes of 
+Sicyon. | 
+
+Ch. 132-136. Unsuccessful expedition of Miltiades 
+against Paros; his condemnation by the Athenians, 
+and his death. 
+
+Ch. 137-140. Story of the Pelasgian settlements 
+in Attica and subsequently in Lemnos, and the 
+ultimate reduction of Lemnos by Miltiades. 
+
+
+The narrative in Book VII is much easier to 
+follow. There are fewer digressions from the 
+course of the story, and events are described in 
+their chronological order for the most part. 
+
+Ch. 1-4. New Persian preparation against Greece. 
+Dispute about the succession to the throne among 
+Darius sons; death of Darius and accession of 
+Xerxes (485). 
+
+Ch. 5, 6. Influence at the Persian court in favour 
+of war. 
+
+Ch. 7-11. Suppression of the Egyptian revolt. 
+Xerxes' deliberation on invasion of Greece ; speeches 
+of Xerxes, Mardonius, and Artabanus. 
+
+Ch. 12-18. Xerxes' doubts; his and Artabanus' 
+visions ; eventual decision for war. 
+
+Ch. 19-25. Preparation for the expedition; its 
+magnitude; construction of a canal across the 
+promontory of Athos. 
+
+Ch. 26-32. March of Xerxes’ army from Critalla 
+in Cappadocia to Sardis. Story of Pythius' offer of 
+money. 
+
+Ch. 33-36. Construction of bridges across the 
+Hellespont. 
+
+Ch. 37-43. Route of the army from Sardis to 
+
+
+X1 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+Abydos; Pythius’ request, and its punishment; 
+the order of march. 
+
+Ch. 44-56. Review of the fleet and army at 
+Abydos. Xerxes’ conversation with Artabanus. 
+Passage of the Hellespont. 
+
+Ch. 57-60. From the Hellespont to Doriscus ; 
+the numbering of the army. 
+
+Ch. 61-99. Catalogue and description of the 
+national contingents composing Xerxes’ army and 
+fleet. 
+
+Ch. 100-107. Xerxes’ review of his forces at 
+Doriscus; his conversation with Demaratus ; notice 
+of some of the governors left by Xerxes in charge 
+of Thracian towns. 
+
+Ch. 108-121. Route of the army and fleet from 
+Doriscus to Acanthus. How the army was fed. 
+
+Ch. 122-126. From Acanthus to Therma. 
+
+Ch. 127-131. Xerxes' excursion to Tempe in 
+Thessaly. 
+
+Ch. 132-137. Reception in Greece of proposals 
+sent by Xerxes to Greek states. Vengeance alleged 
+to be taken by Talthybius on the Lacedaemonians 
+for their killing of ambassadors; story of Sperthias 
+and Bulis. 
+
+Ch. 138-144. Athens’ services in the cause of 
+Greek freedom. Oracles given to the Athenians; 
+decision to increase their fleet, on the advice of 
+Themistocles. 
+
+Ch. 145-147. General reconciliation among 
+Greeks; their despatch of spies to Sardis; Xerxes’ 
+generosity in dealing with these. 
+
+Ch. 148-152. Dubious attitude of Argos and 
+Herodotus’ reflections thereon. 
+
+Ch. 153-167. Greek mission to Sicily. History of 
+
+
+xii 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+the rise of Gelon. His negotiations with the Greek 
+envoys. Despatch of Cadmus. Victory of Gelon 
+and Theron over the Carthaginians in Sicily. 
+
+Ch. 168. Dubious attitude of Corcyra. 
+
+Ch. 169-171. Greek mission to Crete; Delphian 
+advice to Cretans to be warned by the fate of Minos, 
+and the Trojan war. 
+
+Ch. 172-174. Greek forces in Thessaly; their 
+withdrawal; attitude of the Thessalians. 
+
+Ch. 175-178. Greek occupation of Thermopylae 
+and Artemisium. Description of localities. 
+Delphian advice to the Greeks to pray to the 
+winds. 
+
+Ch. 179-187. First encounter of Greek and 
+Persian ships; Greek fleet at Chalcis, Persian at 
+Sepias. Herodotus’ estimate of total Persian 
+numbers. 
+
+Ch. 188-195. Heavy losses of Persian fleet in a 
+storm. Persians at Aphetae, Greeks at Artemisium. 
+Greeks capture Persian ships. 
+
+Ch. 196, 197. March of Xerxes’ army through 
+Thessaly and Achaia. Description of religious 
+custom at Alus. 
+
+Ch. 198-201. Further description of Thermopylae 
+and neighbourh ^od. 
+
+Ch. 202-207. Composition of the Greek force 
+with Leonidas; his decision to remain at 
+Thermopylae. 
+
+Ch. 208, 209. Persian scouts and the Greeks; 
+Xerxes' conversation with Demaratus. 
+
+Ch. 210-212. Fights at Thermopylae and repulse 
+of the Persians. 
+
+Ch. 213-218. Flank movement of a Persian force 
+over the hills, guided by Epialtes. 
+
+
+xlii 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION 
+. Ch. 219-225. Withdrawal of part of the Greek 
+
+
+force by Leonidas' order. Final battle; annihilation 
+of the Lacedaemonians and Thespians. 
+
+Ch. 226—233. Individual instances of bravery; the 
+commemorative inscriptions; fortunes of the few 
+survivors; Theban surrender to Xerxes. 
+
+Ch. 234—238. Opinions of  Demaratus and 
+Achaemenes as to Xerxes’ future policy. Muti- 
+lation of Leonidas’ body. 
+
+Ch. 239. Digression as to Demaratus’ secret mes- 
+sage to Sparta about Xerxes’ proposed expedition. 
+
+
+Among the highly miscellaneous data for internal 
+Greek history of which Books V and VI are com- 
+posed, those portions are especially interesting which 
+give an account of governmental changes in the 
+Hellenic world. Here we have the first beginnings 
+of constitutional history. The period to which 
+Herodotus’ narrative generally refers was a time of 
+transition. Those old vague kingships which existed 
+in the Homeric age had passed away; the powers 
+of ruling βάσιλῆες had passed mostly into the hands 
+οἵ some sort of oligarchy, whether based on wealth 
+or birth. The relations between these and the un- 
+privileged weaker population produced the economic 
+disorders of the seventh century ; and different states - 
+solved their problems in different ways. Sometimes 
+the fall of an unpopular oligarchy or group of privi- 
+leged families was brought about by the establish- 
+ment of “ despotism,” some member of the hitherto 
+powerful caste making himself master of the 
+situation by a coup d'état, with or without the 
+support of the unprivileged; thus the rule of the 
+Battiadae at Corinth gave place to the *tyranny " 
+
+
+xiv 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+of the Cypselid dynasty. But despotism was for 
+the most part—at least in Greece Proper—only an 
+interlude. Judged by its works, it became more 
+unpopular than the oligarchical rule which it had 
+displaced; the general estimate of it was that an 
+irresponsible ruler was probably a criminal, and 
+that unchecked power meant the gratification of 
+the worst passions of humanity. It is true that 
+as despotism decayed in Greece Proper, it took 
+a fresh leave of life in the west, where it was 
+justified by its practical utility. The benevolent 
+despotism of Gelo in Sicily was praised as much as 
+the malevolent despotism of Periander at Corinth 
+was condemned; in neither case was there any 
+theoretical objection to an unconstitutional usurper 
+—the system was not judged on any à priori grounds, 
+but simply on the record of the particular τύραννος. 
+Periander was a mere oppressor, Gelo was an 
+Augustus of Syracuse, whose magnificence impressed 
+even the sternest champions of “ freedom," and 
+whose services to the ;Hellenic world against the 
+Semites of Africa, and the wild tribes of the west, 
+were of proved efficacy. 
+
+Thus despotism endured in Sicily; but in Greece 
+on the whole it gave place to some form of con- 
+stitutional government. Now, therefore, for the 
+first time we begin to hear of that strange thing 
+éAevOepia—the name of which has played so vast a 
+part in the history of the world, and will continue 
+to play it so long as men are the slaves of names. 
+
+What “freedom " meant to Herodotus and to the 
+Hellas of which he writes is clear enough—simply 
+freedom from the personal caprice of a single despotic 
+ruler. It is worth pointing out to those who appeal 
+
+
+XV 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+to Hellas when they claim a traditional connection 
+between * liberty" and democracy, that they will 
+find in the history of the fifth century no warrant. 
+for their peculiar theory. Δημοκρατία, of course, was 
+not at all like Democracy, and would in fact have 
+seemed to modern democrats to be a singularly close 
+and oppressive form of oligarchy; but leaving this 
+patent fact out of consideration we may see that 
+Herodotus at least did not connect freedom with 
+popular government. Athens, the stock instance of 
+a democratic state par excellence, achieved ἐλευθερία 
+not by giving power to the δῆμος, but by ridding herself 
+of her despots; that was the “liberating " act; had 
+she established an oligarchy, as she well might have 
+done, on the ruins of despotism, she would have 
+equally gained her “liberty,” ἐλευθερία, or ἰσηγορία, 
+which like ἐλευθερία simply means the absence of 
+despotism. That to Herodotus democracy has no 
+prescriptive right to “liberty,” is sufficiently shown 
+by the fact that Sparta with her close and tyrannous 
+oligarchy is the typically *free" state. It is a 
+Spartan who points out to a Persian the blessings 
+of freedom. Herodotus, seeing alternative forms of 
+government, and admiring ἐλευθερία (always on the 
+ground of its higher efficiency), has no particular 
+liking for democracy. When he mentions it, he 
+does so without respect. Gelon of Sicily is made 
+to call the δῆμος a “ thankless crew." In the dis- 
+cussion of various constitutions in Book III the 
+Persian debaters condemn democracy even more 
+than oligarchy. The Athens which Herodotus lived 
+in and admired was the Periclean city-state of which 
+Thucydides says that * it was a nominal democracy, 
+but in reality the rule of the first man." 
+
+
+xvi 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+These digressions on constitutional changes and 
+conditions occupy considerable parts of Books V 
+and VI, while the main story works its way to the 
+dénouement, With Marathon, the drama reaches its 
+climax. From this moment we are amidst the great 
+scenes of history ; and nothing can detract from the 
+compelling interest of the narrative. Herodotus’ 
+marvellous skill heightens the dramatic appeal 
+throughout by a constantly interwoven personal 
+element. We are made to see the scale of the 
+conflict, and judge of the issues involved, from 
+the particular standpoint of individuals; we see 
+through the eyes of a present witness. Herodotus 
+does not only describe the greatness of Xerxes’ 
+fleet; he describes it as seen by Xerxes; just as 
+Homer’s most admired similes are those where the 
+imagined scene is presented to us as viewed by a 
+spectator. At most of the critical moments, the 
+various reflections which might occur to a thought- 
+ful mind, or the alternative courses of action 
+which might naturally be suggested, are presented 
+. to us in a dramatised form by debate or dialogue 
+illustrating the diverse points of view—after the 
+manner later made familiar by Euripides and 
+Thucydides. 
+
+So much of fiction there is, obviously; but the 
+trustworthiness of the narrative, apart from these 
+additamenta, has not been seriously assailed. Very 
+many details in this part of Herodotus’ history 
+lend themselves to speculation and controversy. He 
+may exaggerate to the Persian numbers ; itis natural 
+that he should. He may lend too ready an ear to 
+legend. But modern research has not detracted 
+from his general credibility. It is not too much to 
+
+
+xvii 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+say that where Herodotus gives most local detail 
+he is least assailable. The story of Marathon is 
+very briefly told, and it has been left for moderns 
+to fill in what was lacking or explain what brevity 
+makes obscure ; but the full and detailed description 
+of Thermopylae is verifiable to-day. Of course one 
+cannot argue with certainty from such instances .to 
+the credibility of everything. But they are at least 
+encouraging; and make any candid reader, in 
+respect of those parts of the narrative where 
+Herodotus is the sole witness, incline rather to 
+belief in the first of historians than in those who 
+would reconstruct history on the precarious basis 
+of a priori probability. 
+
+
+xvili 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+BOOK V 
+
+
+VOL. III. 
+
+
+HPOAOTOY IZTOPIAI 
+
+
+E 
+
+
+1. Οἱ δὲ ἐν τῇ Εὐρώπῃ τῶν Περσέων KATA- 
+λειφθέντες ὑπὸ Δαρείου, τῶν ὁ Μεγάβαξος 
+ἦρχε, πρώτους μὲν Περινθίους Ἑλλησποντίων οὐ 
+βουλομένους ὑπηκόους εἶναι Δαρείου κατεστρέ- 
+ψαντο, περιεφθέντας πρότερον καὶ ὑπὸ Παιόνων 
+τρηχέως. οἱ γὰρ ὧν ἀπὸ Στρυμόνος Παίονες χρή- 
+σαντος τοῦ θεοῦ στρατεύεσθαι ἐπὶ Περινθίους, 
+καὶ ἣν μὲν ἀντικατιξόμενοι ἐπικαλέσωνται σφέας 
+οἱ Περίνθιοι ὀνομαστὶ βώσαντες, τοὺς δὲ ἐπιχει- 
+ρέειν, ἦν δὲ μὴ ἐπιβώσωνται, μὴ ἐπιχειρέειν, 
+ἐποίεον οἱ i Παίονες ταῦτα. ἀντικατιζομένων δὲ τῶν 
+Περινθίων ἐν τῷ προαστείῳ, ἐνθαῦτα μουνομαχίη 
+τριφασίη ἐκ προκλήσιός σφι ἐγένετο' καὶ γὰρ 
+ἄνδρα ἀνδρὶ καὶ i ἵππον. ἵππῳ συνέβαλον καὶ κύνα 
+κυνί. νικώντων δὲ τὰ δύο τῶν Περινθίων, ὡς 
+ἐπαιώνιξον κεχαρηκότες, συνεβάλοντο οἱ Παίονες 
+τὸ χρηστήριον αὐτὸ τοῦτο εἶναι καὶ εἶπάν κου 
+παρὰ σφίσι αὐτοῖσι “' Νῦν ἂν εἴη ὁ χρησμὸς ἐπιτε- 
+λεόμενος ἡμῖν, νῦν. ἡμέτερον ἔργον.. οὕτω τοῖσι 
+Περινθίοισι παιωνίσασι ἐπιχειρέουσι οἱ Παίονες, 
+καὶ πολλὸν τε ἐκράτησαν καὶ ἕλιπον σφέων 
+ὀλίγους. 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+BOOK V 
+
+
+1. Tuose Persians whom Darius had left in Europe 
+under the command of Megabazus, finding the 
+Perinthians unwilling to be Darius' subjects, sub- 
+dued them before any others of the people of the 
+Hellespont. These Perinthians had already been 
+roughly handled by the Paeonians. For the 
+Paeonians from the Strymon had been bidden by 
+an oracle of their god to march against Perinthus, 
+and if the Perinthians being encamped over against 
+them should call to them, crying out their name, 
+then to attack them, but, if there were no such call, 
+then not to attack. Thus the Paeonians did; and 
+the Perinthians being encamped in front of their city, 
+the armies challenged each other to a threefold duel, 
+wherein man was matched against man, horse against 
+horse, and dog against dog. The Perinthians won 
+the victory in two of the combats and raised the cry 
+of ** Paean” in their joy. The Paeonians reasoned 
+that this was that whereof the oracle spoke; they 
+said to each other, as I suppose, “ This is surely the 
+fulfilment of the prophecy; now here is work for 
+us"; and with that, the Perinthians having cried 
+* Paean," the Paeonians set upon them and won a 
+great victory, leaving few of their enemies alive. 
+
+3 
+B 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+2. Tà μὲν δὴ ἀπὸ Παιόνων πρότερον γενόμενα 
+ὧδε ἐγένετο" τότε δὲ ἀνδρῶν ἀγαθῶν περὶ τῆς 
+ἐλευθερίης γινομένων τῶν Ἠερινθίων οἱ Πέρσαι τε 
+καὶ ὁ Μεγάβαξος ἐπεκράτησαν πλήθεϊ. ὡς δὲ 
+ἐχειρώθη ἡ Πέρινθος, ἤλαυνε Μεγάβαξος τὸν 
+στρατὸν διὰ τῆς Θρηίκης, πᾶσαν πόλιν καὶ πᾶν 
+ἔθνος τῶν ταύτῃ οἰκημένων ἡμερούμενος βασιλέι. 
+ταῦτα γάρ οἱ ἐνετέταλτο ἐκ Δαρείου, Θρηίκην 
+καταστρέφεσθαι. 
+
+8. Θρηίκων δὲ ἔθνος μέγιστον ἐστὶ μετά γε 
+Ἰνδοὺς πάντων ἀνθρώπων" εἰ δὲ Ù ὑπ] ἑνὸς ἄρχοιτο 
+7 φρονέοι κατὰ τὠντό, ἄμαχόν T ἂν εἴη καὶ πολ- 
+AQ κράτιστον πάντων ἐθνέων κατὰ γνώμην τὴν 
+ἐμήν. ἀλλὰ γὰρ τοῦτο ἄπορόν σφι καὶ ἀμήχανον 
+μή κοτε ἐγγένηται, εἰσὶ δὴ κατὰ τοῦτο ἀσθενέες. 
+οὐνόματα δ᾽ ἔχουσι πολλὰ κατὰ χώρας ἕκαστοι, 
+νόμοισι δὲ οὗτοι παραπλησίοισι πάντες χρέωνται 
+κατὰ πάντα, πλὴν l'eréov καὶ Τραυσῶν καὶ τῶν 
+κατύπερθε Κρηστωναίων οἰκεόντων. 
+
+4. Τούτων δὲ τὰ μὲν Γέται οἱ ἀθανατίξοντες 
+ποιεῦσι, εἴρηταί μοι’ Τραυσοὶ δὲ τὰ μὲν ἄλλα 
+πάντα κατὰ ταὐτὰ τοῖσι ἄλλοισι Θρήιξι ἐπιτε- 
+λέουσι, κατὰ δὲ τὸν γινόμενόν σφι καὶ ἀπογινόμε- 
+νον ποιεῦσι τοιάδε' τὸν μὲν γενόμενον περιιξόμενοι 
+οἱ προσήκοντες ὀλοφύρονται, ὅσα µιν δεῖ ἐπείτε 
+ἐγένετο ἀναπλῆσαι κακά, ἀνηγεόμενοι τὰ ἀνθ- 
+ρωπήια πάντα maleca’ τὸν δ᾽ ἀπογενόμενον παί- 
+ξοντές τε καὶ ἡδόμενοι γῇ κρύπτουσι, ἐπιλέγοντες 
+ὅσων κακῶν ἐξαπαλλαχθεὶς ἐστὶ ἐν πάσῃ εὖδαι- 
+μονίῃ. 
+
+δ. Οἱ δὲ κατύπερθε Κρηστωναίων ποιεῦσι TOL- 
+ade. ἔχει γυναῖκας ἕκαστος πολλά,' ἐπεὰν ὧν τις 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+BOOK V. 2-5 
+
+
+2. The Perinthians had already been thus treated 
+
+by the Paeonians; and now they fought like brave 
+men for their liberty, but Megabazus and the Persians 
+overcame them by weight of numbers. Perinthus 
+being taken, Megabazus marched his army through 
+Thrace, subduing to the king's will every city and 
+every people of that region. For this was the charge 
+given him by Darius, even the conquest of Thrace. 
+. 9. The Thracians are the biggest nation in the 
+world, next to the Indians; were they under one 
+ruler, or united, they would in my judgment be 
+invincible and the strongest nation on earth; but 
+since there is no way or contrivance to bring this 
+about, they are for this reason weak. They have 
+many names, each tribe according to its region. All 
+these Thracians are alike in all their usages, save the 
+Getae, and the Trausi, and those that dwell above 
+the Crestonaeans. 
+
+4. As for the Getae who claim to be immortal, I 
+have already told! what they do; the Trausi, who in 
+all else fulfil the customs of other Thracians, do as I 
+will show at the seasons of birth and death. When 
+a child is born, the kinsfolk sit round and lament for 
+all the tale of ills that it must endure from its birth 
+onward, recounting all the sorrows of men ; but the 
+dead they bury with jollity and gladness, for the 
+reason that he is quit of so many ills and is in perfect 
+blessedness. 
+
+9. Those who dwell above the Crestonaeans have 
+a custom of their own: each man having many wives, 
+
+ΣΤΥ, 94. 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+αὐτῶν ἀποθάνῃ, κρίσις γίνεται μεγάλη τῶν γυναι- 
+κῶν καὶ φίλων σπουδαὶ ἰσχυραὶ περὶ τοῦδε, ἥτις 
+αὐτέων ἐφιλέετο μάλιστα ὑπὸ τοῦ ἀνδρός: À ὃ ἂν 
+κριθῇ καὶ τιμηθῇ, ἐγκωμιασθεῖσα ὑπό τε ἀνδρῶν 
+
+
+. - / , . , e . ^. 
+καὶ γυναικῶν σφάζεται és τὸν τάφον ὑπὸ τοῦ 
+
+
+, / € ^ ^ \ 4 
+οἰκηιοτάτου ἑωυτῆς, σφαχθεῖσα δὲ συνθάπτεται 
+^ » , M xy . , ^ 
+τῷ ἀνδρί. at δὲ ἄλλαι συμφορὴν μεγάλην ποιεῦν- 
+
+Tau ὄνειδος γάρ σφι τοῦτο μέγιστον γίνεται. 
+
+6. Τῶν δὲ δὴ ἄλλων Θρηίκων ἐστὶ ὅδε νόμος" 
+πωλεῦσι τὰ τέκνα ἐπ᾿ ἐξαγωγῆ, τὰς δὲ παρθένους 
+οὐ φυλάσσουσι, ἀλλ. ἐῶσι τοῖσι αὐταὶ βούλονται 
+ἀνδράσι μίσγεσθαι" τὰς δὲ γυναῖκας ἰσχυρῶς pv- 
+λάσσουσι καὶ ὠνέονται τὰς γυναῖκας παρὰ τῶν 
+γονέων χρημάτων μεγάλων. καὶ τὸ μὲν ἐστίχθαι 
+εὐγενὲς κέκριται, τὸ δὲ ἄστικτον ἀγεννές. ἀργὸν 
+9 ^ N 
+εἶναι κάλλιστον, γῆς δὲ ἐργάτην ἀτιμότατον' τὸ 
+
+- , . , . 4 ΄ 
+ζῆν ἀπὸ πολέμου καὶ ληιστύος κάλλιστον. 
+/ / 
+
+7. Οὗτοι μὲν σφέων οἱ ἐπιφανέστατοι νόμοι 
+»/ . . / r 4 » A 
+εἰσί, θεοὺς δὲ σέβονται μούνους τούσδε, Αρεα καὶ 
+Διόνυσον καὶ Αρτεμιν. οἱ δὲ βασιλέες αὐτῶν, 
+^ € 
+πάρεξ τῶν ἄλλων πολιητέων, σέβονται "Epuéqv 
+μάλιστα θεῶν, καὶ ὀμνύουσι μοῦνον τοῦτον, καὶ 
+
+λέγουσι γεγονέναι ἀπὸ ᾿Ερμέω ἑωυτούς. 
+- - ο 
+
+8. Ταφαὶ δὲ τοῖσι εὐδαίμοσι αὐτῶν εἰσὶ aide: 
+τρεῖς μὲν ἡμέρας προτιθεῖσι τὸν νεκρόν, καὶ παν- 
+τοῖα σφάξαντες ἱρήια εὐωχέονται, προκλαύσαντες 
+πρῷτον' ἔπειτα δὲ θάπτουσι κατακαύσαντες ἢ 
+ἄλλως γῇ κρύψαντες, χῶμα δὲ χέαντες ἀγῶνα 
+
+- ^ ^ / 
+τιθεῖσι παντοῖον, ἐν τῷ τὰ μέγιστα ἄεθλα τίθεται 
+6 | 
+
+
+BOOK V. 5-8 
+
+
+at his death there is great rivalry among his wives, 
+and eager contention on their friends' part, to prove 
+which wife was best loved by her husband ; and she 
+to whom the honour is adjudged is praised by men 
+and women, and then slain over the tomb by her 
+nearest of kin, and after the slaying she is buried 
+with the husband. The rest of the wives take 
+this sorely to heart, deeming themselves deeply 
+dishonoured. 
+
+6. Among the rest of the Thracians, it is the 
+custom to sell their children to be carried out of 
+the country. They take no care of their maidens, 
+allowing them to have intercourse with what men 
+they will: but their wives they strictly guard, and 
+buy them for a great price from the parents. To be 
+tattooed is a sign of noble birth; to bear no such 
+marks is for the baser sort. The idler is most 
+honoured, the tiller of the soil most contemned ; he 
+is held in highest honour who lives by war and foray. 
+
+7. These are the most notable of their usages. 
+They worship no gods but Ares, Dionysus, and 
+Artemis.! But their princes, unlike the rest of their 
+countrymen, worship Hermes above all gods and 
+swear only by him, claiming him for their ancestor. 
+
+8. Among those of them that are rich, the funeral 
+rites are these:—They lay out the dead for three 
+days, then after killing all kinds of victims and first 
+making lamentation they feast; after that they make 
+away with the body either by fire or else by burial 
+in the earth, and when they have built a barrow 
+they set on foot all kinds of contests, wherein the 
+greatest prizes are offered for the hardest fashion 
+
+
+1 Herodotus as usual identifies foreign with Greek deities : 
+v. How and Wells ad loc. 
+
+
+7 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+κατὰ λόγον μουνομαχίης. ταφαὶ μὲν δὴ Θρηίκων 
+εἰσὶ αἴδε. 
+
+9. Τὸ δὲ πρὸς βορέω τῆς χώρης ἔτι ταύτης 
+οὐδεὶς ἔχει φράσαι τὸ ἀτρεκὲς οἵτινες εἰσὶ ἄνθρω - 
+ποι οἰκέοντες αὐτήν, ἀλλὰ τὰ πέρην ἤδη τοῦ 
+Ἴστρου ἔρημος χώρη φαίνεται ἐοῦσα καὶ ἄπειρος. 
+μούνους δὲ δύναμαι πυθέσθαι οἰκέοντας πέρην τοῦ 
+Ἴστρου ἀνθρώπους τοῖσι οὔνομα εἶναι Σιγύννας, 
+ἐσθῆτι δὲ χρεωμένους Μηδικῇ' τοὺς δὲ ἵππους 
+αὐτῶν εἶναι λασίους ἅπαν τὸ σῶμα ἐπὶ πέντε 
+δακτύλους τὸ βάθος τῶν τριχῶν, μικροὺς δὲ καὶ 
+σιμοὺς καὶ ἀδυνάτους ἄνδρας φέρειν, ξευγνυμένους 
+δὲ ὑπ᾽ ἅρματα εἶναι ὀξυτώτους: ἁρματηλατέειν 
+δὲ πρὸς ταῦτα τοὺς ἐπιχωρίους. κατήκειν δὲ τού- 
+των τοὺς οὔρους ἀγχοῦ ᾿Ενετῶν τῶν ἐν τῷ ᾿Αδρίῃ. 
+εἶναι δὲ Μήδων σφέας ἀποίκους λέγουσι. ὅκως 
+δὲ οὗτοι Μήδων ἄποικοι γεγόνασι, ἐγὼ μὲν οὐκ 
+ἔχω ἐπιφράσασθαι, γένοιτο ὃ ἂν πᾶν ἐν τῷ 
+μακρῷ χρόνῳ. σιγύννας ὃ ὧν καλέουσι Λίγυες 
+οἱ ἄνω ὑπὲρ Μασσαλίης οἰκέοντες τοὺς καπήλους, 
+Κύπριοι δὲ τὰ δόρατα. 
+
+10. Ὡς δὲ Θρήικες λέγουσι, μέλισσαι κατέχουσι 
+τὰ πέρην τοῦ "Ίστρου, καὶ ὑπὸ τουτέων οὐκ εἶναι 
+διελθεῖν τὸ προσωτέρω. ἐμοὶ μέν νυν ταῦτα λέ- 
+Ύοντες δοκέουσι λέγειν οὐκ οἰκότα' τὰ γὰρ “ĝa 
+ταῦτα φαίνεται εἶναι δύσριγα᾽ ἀλλά μοι τὰ ὑπὸ 
+τὴν ἄρκτον ἀοίκητα δοκέει εἶναι διὰ τὰ ψύχεα. 
+ταῦτα μέν νυν τῆς χώρης ταύτης πέρι λέγεται. τὰ 
+παραθαλάσσια ὃ ὧν αὐτῆς Μεγάβαζος Περσέων 
+κατήκοα ἐποίεε. 
+
+ll. Δαρεῖος δὲ ὡς διαβὰς τάχιστα τὸν 'EX- 
+λήσποντον ἀπίκετο ἐς Σάρδις, ἐμνήσθη τῆς ἐξ 
+8 
+
+
+BOOK V. 8-11 
+
+
+of single combat. Such are the Thracian funeral 
+rites. 
+
+9. For what lies north of this country none can 
+
+tell with certainty what men dwell there; cross the 
+Ister and you shall see but an infinite tract of deserts. 
+I can learn of no men dwelling beyond the Ister save 
+certain that are called Sigynnae, and wear Median 
+dress. Their horses are said to be covered all over 
+with shaggy hair! five fingers’ breadth long, and to be 
+small and blunt-nosed and unable to bear men on 
+their backs, but very swift when yoked to chariots ; 
+wherefore to drive chariots is the usage of the 
+country. These men's borders, it is said, reach nigh 
+as far as the Eneti on the Adriatic Sea. They call 
+themselves colonists from Media. How this has 
+come about I myself cannot understand ; but all is 
+possible in the long ages of time. However that be, 
+we know that the Ligyes who dwell inland of Massalia 
+use the word “sigynnae’’ for hucksters, and the 
+Cyprians use it for spears. 
+. 10. But the Thracians say that all the land beyond 
+the Ister is full of bees, and that by reason of these 
+none can travel there. This is no credible tale, to 
+my mind ; for those creatures are ill able to bear cold ; 
+but it appears to me rather that it is by reason of 
+the cold that the northern lands are not inhabited. 
+Such, then, are the stories about this region. What- 
+ever be the truth, Megabazus made its sea-coast 
+subject to the Persians. 
+
+11. As soon as Darius had crossed the Hellespont 
+and come to Sardis,? he remembered the good service 
+
+
+1 Strabo says much the same of the Sigynni, according to 
+him a Caucasian tribe. 
+3 Cp. IV. 143. 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Ἱστιαίου τε τοῦ Μιλησίου εὐεργεσίης καὶ τῆς 
+παραινέσιος τοῦ Μυτιληναίου Κώεω, μεταπεμψά- 
+μενος δὲ σφέας ἐς Σάρδις ἐδίδου αὐτοῖσι αἵρεσιν. 
+ὁ μὲν δὴ Ἱστιαῖος, ἆ ἅτε τυραννεύων τῆς Μιλήτου, 
+τυραννίδος μὲν οὐδεμιῆς προσεχρήιξε, αἰτέει δὲ 
+Μύρκινον τὴν ᾿Ηδωνῶν, βουλόμενος ἐν αὐτῇ πόλιν 
+κτίσαι. οὗτος μὲν δὴ ταύτην αἱρέεται, ὁ I Κώης, 
+οἷά τε οὐ τύραννος δημότης τε ἐών, αἰτέει Muri- 
+λήνης τυραννεῦσαι. 
+
+12. Τελεωθέντων δὲ ἀμφοτέροισι, οὗτοι μὲν 
+κατὰ τὰ εἵλοντο ἐτράποντο, Δαρεῖον δὲ συνήνεικε 
+πρῆγμα τοιόνδε ἰδόμενον ἐπιθυμῆσαι ἐντείλασθαι 
+Μεγαβάζῳ Παίονας ἑλόντα ἀνασπάστους ποιῆσαι 
+ἐς τὴν ᾿Ασίην ἐκ τῆς Εὐρώπης. - ἦν Πίγρης καὶ 
+Μαντύης ἄνδρες Παίονες, o? ἐπείτε Δαρεῖος διέβη 
+ἐς τὴν ᾿Ασίην, αὐτοὶ ἐθέλοντες Παιόνων τυραν- 
+νεύειν ἀπικνέονται ἐς Σάρδις, à ἅμα ἀγόμενοι ἆδελ.- 
+φεὴν μεγάλην τε καὶ εὐειδέα. φυλάξαντες δὲ 
+Δαρεῖον προκατιζόµενον ἐ ἐς τὸ προάστειον τὸ τῶν 
+Λυδῶν ἐποίησαν τοιόνδε' σκευάσαντες τὴν ἀδελ.- 
+φεὴν ὡς εἶχον ἄριστα, ἐπ᾿ ὕδωρ ἔπεμπον ἄγγος 
+ἐπὶ τῇ κεφαλῇ ἔχουσαν καὶ ἐκ τοῦ βραχίονος 
+ἵππον ἐπέλκουσαν καὶ κλώθουσαν λίνον. ὡς δὲ 
+παρεξήιε ἡ γυνή, ἐπιμελὲς τῷ Δαρείῳ ἐγένετο: 
+οὔτε γὰρ Περσικὰ ἣν οὔτε Λύδια τὰ ποιεύμενα 
+ἐκ τῆς γυναικός, οὔτε πρὸς τῶν ἐκ τῆς ᾿Ασίης 
+οὐδαμῶν. ἐπιμελὲς δὲ ὥς οἱ ἐγένετο, τῶν δορυ- 
+φόρων τινὰς πέμπει κελεύων φυλάξαι ὅ τι χρήσε- 
+ται τῷ ἵππῳ ἡ γυνή. οἳ μὲν δὴ ὄπισθε εἵποντο᾽ 
+ἣ δὲ ἐπείτε ἀπίκετο ἐπὶ τὸν ποταμόν, ἦρσε τὸν 
+ἵππον, ἄρσασα δὲ καὶ τὸ ἄγγος τοῦ ὕδατος 
+ἐμπλησαμένη τὴν αὐτὴν ὁδὸν παρεξήιε, φέρουσα 
+IO 
+
+
+BOOK V. 11-12 
+
+
+done him by Histiaeus of Miletus and the counsel 
+of Coes the Mytilenaean; and he sent for them to 
+come to Sardis and offered them the choice of what 
+they would. Then Histiaeus, seeing that he was 
+despot of Miletus, desired no further sovereignty 
+than that, but asked for Myrcinus! in the Edonian 
+land, that hé might there build a city. This was 
+Histiaeus' choice; but Coes, inasmuch as he was no 
+despot but a plain citizen, asked that he might be 
+made despot of Mytilene. 
+
+12. The desire of both being granted, they went 
+their ways to the places of their choice ; but Darius, 
+as it fell out, saw a sight which put it in his mind to 
+bid Megabazus take the Paeonians and carry them 
+from their homes out of Europe into Asia. There 
+were two Paeonians, Pigres and Mantyes; these 
+would themselves be rulers of their countrymen, and 
+when Darius had crossed into Asia came to Sardis, 
+bringing with them their sister, a woman tall and 
+fair. There, waiting till Darius should be sitting in 
+the suburb of the Lydian city, they put on their 
+sister the best adornment they bad, and sent her to 
+draw water, bearing a vessel on her head and leading 
+a horse by the bridle on her arm and spinning flax 
+the while. Darius took note of the woman as she 
+passed by him; for what she did was not in the 
+manner of the Persians or Lydians or any of the 
+peoples of Asia. Having taken note of the thing, 
+he sent certain of his guard, bidding them watch 
+what the woman would do with the horse. So they 
+followed behind her; and she, coming to the river, 
+watered the horse; then, having so done, and filled 
+her vessel with the water, she passed back again by 
+
+
+1 A district rich in timber and precious metals ; cp. 23. 
+II 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τὸ ὕδωρ ἐπὶ τῆς κεφαλῆς καὶ ἐπέλκουσα ἐκ τοῦ 
+βραχίονος τὸν ἵππον καὶ στρέφουσα τὸν ἄτρα- 
+κτον. 
+
+13. Θωμάξων δὲ ὁ Δαρεῖος τά τε ἤκουσε ἐκ τῶν 
+κατασκόπων καὶ τὰ αὐτὸς ὥρα, ἄγειν αὐτὴν ἐκέ- 
+λενε ἑωυτῷ ἐς ὄψιν. ὡς δὲ .ἄχθη, παρῆσαν καὶ 
+οἱ ἀδελφεοὶ αὐτῆς οὔ κῃ πρόσω σκοπιὴν ἔχοντες 
+τούτων. el pwr ai ντος δὲ τοῦ Δαρειου ὁποδαπὴ ein, 
+ἔφασαν οἱ νεηνισκοι εἶναι Παίονες καὶ ἐκείνην 
+εἶναι σφέων ἀδελφεήν. ὃ Ò ἀμείβετο, τίνες δὲ οἱ 
+Ἠαίονες ἄνθρωποι εἰσὶ καὶ κοῦ γῆς πμ, καὶ 
+τί κεῖνοι ἐθέλοντες ἔλθοιεν ἐς Σάρδις. οἳ δέ οἱ 
+ἔφραξον ὡς ἔλθοιεν μὲν ἐκείνῳ ο. σφέας 
+αὐτούς, εἴη δὲ ἡ ἡ Παιονίη ἐπὶ τῷ Στρυμόνι ποταμῷ 
+πεπολισμένη, ὁ δὲ Στρυμὼν οὐ πρόσω τοῦ Ἕλλη- 
+σπόντου, εἴησαν δὲ Τευκρῶν τῶν ἐκ Τροίης ἄποι- 
+κοι. οἳ μὲν δὴ ταῦτα ἕκαστα ἔλεγον, ὃ ὃ δὲ εἰρώτα 
+εἰ καὶ πᾶσαι αὐτόθι αἱ γυναῖκες εἴησαν οὕτω 
+ἐργάτιδες. οἳ δὲ καὶ τοῦτο ἔφασαν προθύμως 
+οὕτω ἔχειν αὐτοῦ γὰρ ὧν τούτου εἵνεκα καὶ 
+ἐποιέετο. 
+
+14. ᾿Ενθαῦτα Δαρεῖος γράφει γράμματα Μεγα- 
+Bábo, τὸν ἔλιπε ἐν τῇ Θρηίκη στρατηγόν, ἐντελ- 
+λόμενος ἐξαναστῆσαι ἐξ ἠθέων Παίονας καὶ Tap 
+ἑωυτὸν ἀγαγεῖν καὶ αὐτοὺς καὶ τὰ τέκνα τε καὶ 
+τὰς γυναῖκας αὐτῶν. αὐτίκα δὲ ἱππεὺς ἔθεε 
+φέρων τὴν ἀγγελίην ἐπὶ τὸν Ἑλλήσποντον, πε- 
+ραιωθεὶς δὲ διδοῦ τὸ βυβλίον τῷ Μεγαβάζῳ. ô 
+δὲ ἐπιλεξάμενος, καὶ λαβὼν ἡγεμόνας ἐκ τῆς 
+Θρηίκης ἐ ἐστρατεύετο ἐπὶ τὴν Παιονίην. 
+
+15. Πνυθόμενοι δὲ οἱ Παίονες τοὺς Πέρσας ἐπὶ 
+σφέας ἰέναι, ἁλισθέντες ἐξεστρατεύσαντο πρὸς 
+12 
+
+
+BOOK V. 12-15 
+
+
+the same way, bearing the water on her head and 
+leading the horse on her arm and plying her 
+distaff. 
+
+13. Marvelling at what he heard from his watchers 
+and what he saw for himself, Darius bade the woman 
+be brought before him. When she was brought, her 
+brothers, who watched all this from a place near by, 
+
+came too; and Darius asking of what nation she 
+were, the young man told him that they were 
+Paeonians, and she their sister. ‘ But who," he 
+answered, *are the Paeonians, and where dwell 
+they, and with what intent are you come to Sardis ? ” 
+They showed him, that they were come to be his men ; 
+that the towns of Paeonia were on the Strymon, 
+a river not far from the Hellespont; and that they 
+were colonists from the Teucrians of Troy. So they 
+told him all this ; and the king asked them if all the 
+women of their country were as notable workers. 
+To this too they very readily answered (for it was for 
+this very purpose that they had come), that it was 
+indeed so. 
+
+14. Then Darius wrote a letter to Megabazus, 
+whom he had left as his general in Thrace, bidding 
+him take the Paeonians from their houses, and bring 
+them to him, men, women, and children. Im- 
+mediately a horseman sped with this message to 
+the Hellespont, and crossing it gave the letter to 
+Megabazus ; who, having read it, took guides from 
+Thrace and led his army to Paeonia. 
+
+15. When the Paeonians learnt that the Persians 
+were coming against them, they gathered themselves 
+
+
+I3 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+θαλάσσης, δοκέοντες ταύτῃ. ἐπιχειρήσειν τοὺς 
+Πέρσας ἐμβάλλοντας. οἱ μὲν δὴ Παίονες ἦσαν 
+ἕτοιμοι τὸν Μεγαβάζου στρατὸν ἐπιόντα ἐρύκειν' 
+οἱ δὲ Πέρσαι πυθόμενοι συναλίσθαι τοὺς Παίονας 
+καὶ τὴν πρὸς θαλάσσης ἐσβολὴν φυλάσσοντας, 
+ἔχοντες ἡγεμόνας τὴν ἄνω ὁδὸν τράπονται, λα- 
+θόντες δὲ τοὺς Παίονας ἐσπίπτουσι ἐς τὰς πόλιας 
+αὐτῶν ἐούσας ἀνδρῶν ἐρήμους" οἷα δὲ κεινῆσι 
+ἐπιπεσόντες εὐπετέως κατέσχον. οἱ δὲ Παίονες 
+ὡς ἐπύθοντο ἐχομένας τὰς πόλιας, αὐτίκα δια- 
+σκεδασθέντες κατ᾽ ἑωυτοὺς ἕκαστοι ἐτράποντο | καὶ 
+παρεδίδοσαν σφέας αὐτοὺς τοῖσι Πέρσῃσι. οὕτω 
+δὴ Παιόνων Σιριοπαίονές τε καὶ Παιόπλαι καὶ οἱ 
+μέχρι τῆς Πρασιάδος λέμνης ἐξ ἠθέων ἐξανα- 
+στάντες ἤγοντο ἐς τὴν ᾿Ασίην. 
+
+16. Οἱ δὲ περί τε Πάγγαιον ὄρος καὶ Δόβηρας 
+καὶ ᾿Αγριᾶνας καὶ Ὀδομάντους 3 καὶ αὐτὴν τὴν 
+λύμνην τὴν Πρασιάδα οὐκ ἐχειρώθησαν ἀρχὴν 
+ὑπὸ Μεγαβάξου: ἐπειρήθη δὲ καὶ τοὺς ἐν τῇ 
+λύμνῃ κατοικημένους ἐξαιρέειν ὧδε. ἴκρια ἐπὶ 
+σταυρῶν ὑψηλῶν -ἐξευγμένα ἐν μέσῃ ἕστηκε τῇ 
+λέμνη, ἔσοδον ἐκ τῆς ἠπείρου στεινὴν ἔχοντα μιῇ 
+γεφύρῃ. τοὺς δὲ σταυροὺς τοὺς ὑπεστεῶτας τοῖσι 
+ἐκρίοισι τὸ μέν κου ἀρχαῖον ἔστησαν κοινῇ πάντες 
+οἱ πολιῆται, μετὰ δὲ νόμῳ χρεώμενοι ἱστᾶσι 
+τοιῷδε: κομίζοντες ἐξ ὄρεος τῷ οὔνομα ἐστὶ Ὄρ- 
+βηλος, κατὰ γυναῖκα, ἑκάστην ὁ γαμέων τρεῖς 
+σταυροὺς ὑπίστησι' ἄγεται δὲ ἕκαστος συχνὰς 
+
+
+1.Stein brackets καὶ Δοβ. καὶ ᾿Αγρ. καὶ Οδ. ; and certainly 
+it is not reasonable to speak of Paeonians living near the 
+Doberes and Agrianes, who are themselves Paeonians. 
+
+
+14 
+
+
+BOOK V. 15-16 
+
+
+together and marched away to the sea, thinking that 
+the Persians would essay to attack them by that 
+way. Sothe Paeonians were ready to stay the onset 
+of Megabazus army; but the Persians, learning 
+that the Paeonians had gathered their forces and 
+were guarding the sea-coast way into their country, 
+got them guides and marched instead by the high- 
+land road, whereby they took the Paeonians un- 
+awares and won entrance into their cities, wbich 
+were left without men; and finding these empty at 
+their onfall they easily gained them. The Paeonians, 
+learning that their towns were taken, straightway 
+broke and went each his own way and yielded them- 
+selves up to the Persians. Thus of the Paeonians 
+the Siriopaeones and Paeoplae and all that dwelt as 
+far as the Prasiad lake were taken away from their 
+homes and carried into Asia. 
+
+16. But those near the Pangaean! mountains and 
+the country of the Doberes and the Agrianes and 
+the Odomanti and the Prasiad lake itself were never 
+subdued at all by Megabazus; albeit he tried to take 
+the lake-dwellers,? whose dwellings were such as I 
+shall show :—There is set in the midst of the lake a 
+platform made fast on tall piles, whereto one bridge 
+gives a narrow passage from the land. The piles 
+which support the platform were set there in old 
+times by all the people working together, but by a 
+later custom this is the manner of their setting: the 
+piles are brought from a mountain called Orbelus;? 
+and every man plants three for each woman that he 
+weds; and each has many wives. For the manner 
+
+
+1 East of the Strymon. 
+
+* Dwellings of à similar kind have been found in North 
+Italy, Ireland, and other parts of Western Europe. 
+
+3 Between the Strymon and the Nestus. 
+
+
+15 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+γυναῖκας. οἰκέουσι δὲ τοιοῦτον τρόπον, κρατέων 
+ἕκαστος ἐπὶ τῶν ἰκρίων καλύβης τε ἐν τῇ διαιτᾶται 
+καὶ θύρης καταπακτῆς διὰ τῶν ἱκρίων κάτω Φε- 
+ρούσης ἐς τὴν λίμνην. τὰ δὲ νήπια παιδία δέουσι 
+τοῦ πο ὃς σπάρτῳ, μὴ κατακυλισθῇ δειμαίνοντες. 
+τοῖσι δὲ ἵπποισι καὶ τοῖσι ὑποζυγίοισι παρέχουσι 
+χόρτον. ἰχθῦς" τῶν δὲ πλῆθος ἐστὶ τοσοῦτο ὥστε, 
+ὅταν τὴν θύρην τὴν καταπακτὴν ἀνακλίνῃ, κατιεῖ 
+σχοίνῳ σπυρίδα κεινὴν ἐς τὴν λίμνην, καὶ οὐ πολ- 
+λόν τινα χρόνον ἐπισχὼν ἀνασπᾷ πλήρεα ἰχθύων. 
+τῶν δὲ ἰχθύων ἐστὶ γένεα δύο, τοὺς καλέουσι 
+πάπρακάς τε καὶ τίλωνας. 
+
+17. Παιόνων μὲν δὴ οἱ χειρωθέντες ἤγοντο ἐς 
+τὴν Aciq. Μεγάβαξος δὲ ὡς ἐχειρώσατο τοὺς 
+Iaíovas, πέμπει ἀγγέλους ἐς Μακεδονίην ἄνδρας 
+ἑπτὰ Πέρσας, οἳ μετ᾽ αὐτὸν ἐκεῖνον ἦσαν δοκιμώ- 
+τατοι ἐν τῷ στρατοπέδῳ" ἐπέμποντο δὲ οὗτοι 
+παρὰ ᾽Αμύντην αἰτήσοντες γῆν τε καὶ ὕδωρ Δα- 
+ρείῳ βασιλέι. ἔστι δὲ € ἐκ τῆς Πρασιάδος λίμνης 
+σύντομος κάρτα ἐς τὴν Μακεδονίην" πρῶτον μὲν 
+γὰρ ἔχεται τῆς λίμνης τὸ μέταλλον ἐξ οὗ ὕστερον 
+τούτων τάλαντον ἀργυρίου ᾿Αλεξάνδρῳ ἡμέρης 
+ἑκάστης ἐφοίτα, μετὰ δὲ τὸ μέταλλον Δύσωρον 
+καλεόμενον ὄρος ὑπερβάντα εἶναι ἐν Μακεδονίῃ. 
+
+18. Οἱ ὦ ὧν Πέρσαι οἱ πεμφθέντες οὗτοι παρὰ τὸν 
+᾽Αμύντην ὡς ἀπίκοντο, αἴτεον ἐλθόντες ἐς ὄψιν 
+τὴν ᾿Αμύντεω Δαρείῳ βασιλέι γῆν τε καὶ ὕδωρ. 
+ὃ δὲ ταῦτά τε ἐδίδου καί σφεας ἐπὶ ξείνια καλέει, 
+παρασκευασάμενος δὲ δεῖπνον μεγαλοπρεπὲς ἐδέ- 
+KETO τοὺς Πέρσας φιλοφρόνως. ὡς δὲ ἀπὸ δείπνου 
+ἐγένοντο, διαπίνοντες εἶπαν οἱ Πέρσαι τάδε. 
+
+
+τό 
+
+
+BOOK V, 16-18 
+
+
+of their dwelling, each man on the platform owns 
+the hut wherein he lives and a trap-door in the 
+platform leading down into the lake. They make a 
+cord fast to the feet of their little children, lest the 
+children fall into the water. They give fish for 
+fodder to their horses and beasts of burden; and of 
+fish there is such abundance, that a man opens his 
+trap-door and lets an empty basket down by a line 
+into the lake, and it is no long time before he draws 
+it up full of fish. There are two kinds of these, some 
+called “ paprakes," some “ tilones.” 
+
+17. So those of the Paeonians who were taken 
+were carried into Asia. Then Megabazus, having 
+made the Paeonians captive, sent as messengers into 
+Macedonia! the seven Persians who (after himself) 
+were the most honourable in his army ; these were 
+sent to Amyntas to demand earth and water for 
+Darius the king. Now there is a very straight way 
+from the Prasiad lake to Macedonia ; for first and 
+near to the lake is that mine wherefrom later 
+Alexander drew a daily revenue of a talent of 
+silver, and when. he has passed the mine a man 
+need but cross the mountain called Dysorum ? to be 
+in Macedonia. 
+
+18. These Persians then who were sent, coming 
+to Amyntas and being in his presence, demanded 
+earth and water for Darius the king ; which he gave, 
+and invited them to be his guests; and he prepared 
+a dinner of great splendour and received them 
+hospitably. But after dinner, the Persians said to 
+Amyntas as they sat drinking together, ** Macedonian, 
+
+
+1 ie. the country as extended by Alexander I. east of the 
+Axius to the Strymon. 
+8 Apparently not far from the lower Strymon. 
+
+
+17 
+
+
+VOL. ΠΙ. ς 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+r Ἐεῖνε Μακεδών, ἡμῖν νόμος ἐστὶ τοῖσι Πέρσησι, 
+ἐπεὰν δεῖπνον προτιθώμεθα μέγα, τότε καὶ τὰς 
+παλλακὰς καὶ τὰς κουριδίας γυναῖκας ἐσάγεσθαι 
+παρέδρους. σύ νυν, ἐπεί περ προθύμως μὲν ἐδέ- 
+ξαο μεγάλως δὲ ξεινίξεις, διδοῖς δὲ βασιλέι, Δα- 
+ρείῳ γῆν τε καὶ ὕδωρ, ἕπεο νόμῳ τῷ ἡμετέρῳ. 
+εἶπε πρὸς ταῦτα ᾿Αμύντης eo Πέρσαι, νόμος μὲν 
+ἡμῖν ye ἐστὶ οὐκ οὗτος, ἀλλὰ κεχωρίσθαι ἄνδρας 
+γυναικῶν" ἐπείτε δὲ ὑμεῖς ἐόντες δεσπόται προσ- 
+χρηίξετε τούτων, παρέσται ὑμῖν καὶ ταῦτα. 
+εἴπας τοσαῦτα ὁ Α μύντης μετεπέμπετο τὰς γυναῖ- 
+kas: at Ò ἐπείτε καλεόµεναι ἦλθον, ἐπεξῆς ἀντίαι 
+ἵζοντο τοῖσι Πέρσῃσι. ἐνθαῦτα οἱ Πέρσαι͵ ἰδό- 
+μενοι γυναῖκας εὐμόρφους ἔλεγον πρὸς ᾽Αμύντην 
+φάμενοι τὸ ποιηθὲν τοῦτο οὐδὲν εἶ εἶναι «σοφόν: κρέσ- 
+σον yap εἶναι ἀρχῆθεν μὴ ἐλθεῖν τὰς -Ὑυναῖκας ἢ 
+ἐλθούσας καὶ μὴ παριζομένας ἀντίας ἵξεσθαι 
+ἀλγηδόνας σφίσι ὀφθαλμῶν. ἀναγκαζόμενος δὲ 
+ὁ ᾽Αμύντης ἐκέλευε παρίξειν' πειθοµενέων δὲ τῶν 
+γυναικῶν αὐτίκα οἱ Π]έρσαι μαστῶν τε ἅπτοντο 
+οἷα πλεόνως οἰνωμένοι, καί κού τις καὶ φιλέειν 
+ἐπειρᾶτο. 
+
+19. ᾽Αμύντης μὲν δὴ ταῦτα ὁρέων ἀτρέμας eiye, 
+καίπερ δυσφορέων, οἷα ὑπερδειμαίνων τοὺς Πέρ- 
+gas ᾿Αλέξανδρος δὲ ὁ ᾽Αμύντεω παρεών τε καὶ 
+ὀρέων ταῦτα, ἅτε νέος τε ἐὼν καὶ κακῶν ἀπαθής, 
+οὐδαμῶς € ἔτι κατέχειν οἷός τε ἦν, ὥστε δὲ ᾿Βαρέως 
+φέρων εἶπε πρὸς ᾽Αμύντην τάδε. “Q πάτερ, σὺ 
+μὲν εἶκε τῇ ἡλικίῃ ἀπιών τε ἀναπαύεο, ᾿μηδὲ λιπά- 
+pee τῇ Toot ἐγὼ δὲ προσμένων αὐτοῦ τῇδε πάντα 
+τὰ ἐπιτήδεα παρέξω τοῖσι ξείνοισι.” πρὸς ταῦτα 
+συνιεὶς ᾽Αμύντης ὅτι νεώτερα πρήγματα πρήσσειν 
+18 
+
+
+BOOK V. 18-19 
+
+
+our host, it is our Persian custom after the giving of 
+any great banquet to bring in also the concubines 
+and wedded wives to sit by the men. Do you then 
+(since you have received us heartily and are nobly 
+entertaining us, and are giving Darius our king earth 
+and water) follow our custom.” To this Amyntas 
+replied: * No such custom, Persians, have we our- 
+selves; with us, men and women sit apart; but 
+seeing that you are our masters and would have this 
+too, it shall be as you desire.” With that, Amyntas 
+sent for the women; they came at call, and sat 
+down over against the Persians. Then the Persians, 
+seeing comely women before them, spoke to Amyntas 
+and said that there was no sense in what he had 
+done; it were better (they said) that the women had 
+never come at all than that they should come and 
+not sit beside the men, but sit opposite them to 
+torment their eyes. Amyntas then, as needs must, 
+bade the women sit beside them ; which when they 
+did, at once the Persians, flushed as they were with 
+excess of wine, laid hands on the women's breasts, 
+and one or another would essay to kiss them. 
+
+19. This Amyntas saw, but held his peace for all 
+his anger, because he greatly feared the Persians. But 
+Amyntas' son Alexander, in his youth and ignorance 
+of ill deeds, could by no means bear it longer, but 
+said to Amyntas in great wrath: “ My father, do you 
+do as befits your age; leave us and take your rest, 
+and continue not at the drinking; but I will stay 
+here and give our guests all that is needful." At 
+this Amyntas saw that Alexander had some wild 
+
+I9 
+c 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μέλλοι ὁ ᾿Αλέξανδρος, λέγει Q παῖ, σχεδὸν γά 
+σευ ἀνακαιομένου συνίημι τοὺς λόγους, ὅτι ἐθέ- 
+λεις ἐμὲ ἐκπέμψας ποιέειν τι νεώτερον" ἐγὼ ὧν 
+σευ χρηίξω μηδὲν νεοχμῶσαι κατ᾽ ἄνδρας. τούτους, 
+ἶνα μὴ ἐξεργάσῃ ἡμέας, ἀλλὰ ἀνέχευ ὀρέων τὰ 
+ποιεύμενα" ἀμφὶ δὲ ἀπόδῳ τῇ ἐμῇ πείσομαί TOL. 
+
+20. Ὡς δὲ ὁ ᾿Αμύντης Xpniaas τούτων οἰχώκεε, 
+λέγει ὁ ᾿Αλέξανδρος πρὸς τοὺς Πέρσας d Γυναικῶν 
+τουτέων, ὦ ξεῖνοι, ἔστι ὑμῖν πολλὴ εὐπετείη, καὶ 
+εἰ πάσῃσι βούλεσθε μίσγεσθαι καὶ ὁκόσῃσι ὧν 
+αὐτέων. τούτου μὲν πέρι αὐτοὶ ἀποσημανέετε" 
+νῦν δέ, σχεδὸν γὰρ ἤδη, τῆς κοίτης ὥρη ὧπροσέρχε- 
+ται ὑμῖν καὶ καλῶς ἔχοντας ὑμέας. ὁρῶ μέθης, 
+γυναῖκας ταύτας, εἰ ὑμῖν φίλον ἐστί, ἄπετε λούσα- 
+σθαι, Ἀουσαμένας δὲ ὁ ὀπίσω προσδέκεσθε." εἴπας 
+ταῦτα, συνέπαινοι γὰρ ἦσαν οὗ Πέρσαι, γυναῖκας 
+μὲν «ἐξελθούσας ἀπέπεμπε ἐς τὴν γυναικηίην, 
+αὐτὸς δὲ ὁ ᾿Αλέξανδρος i ἴσους τῇσι γυναιξὶ ἀριθμὸν 
+ἄνδρας λειογενείους τῇ τῶν γυναικῶν ἐσθῆτι σκευά- 
+σας καὶ ἐγχειρίδια δοὺς ἦγε ἔσω, παράγων δὲ τού- 
+τους ἔλεγε τοῖσι Πέρσῃσι τάδε. “CQ Πέρσαι, 
+οἴκατε .πανδαισίῃ τελέῃ ἱστιῆσθαι: τά τε γὰρ 
+ἄλλα ὅσα εἴχομεν, καὶ πρὸς τὰ οἷά τε ἦν ἐξευ- 
+ρόντας. παρέχειν, πάντα ὑμῖν πάρεστι, : καὶ δὴ καὶ 
+τόδε τὸ πάντων μέγιστον, τάς τε ἑωυτῶν .μητέρας 
+καὶ τὰς ἀδελφεὰς ἐπιδαψιλευόμεθα ὑμῖν, ὡς 
+παντελέως μάθητε τιμώμενοι πρὸς ἡμέων τῶν περ 
+ἐστὲ ἄξιοι, πρὸς δὲ καὶ βασιλέι τῷ πέμψαντι 
+ἀπαγγείλητε ὡς ἀνὴρ" Ελλην ΝῊ ὕπαρ- 
+χος εὖ ὑμέας ἐδέξατο καὶ τραπέζῃ καὶ κούτῃ. 
+ταῦτα εἴπας ὁ ᾿Αλέξανδρος -παρίξει Πέρσῃ ἀνδρὶ 
+ἄνδρα Μακεδόνα ὡς γυναῖκα τῷ λόγῳ' οἳ δέ, 
+20 
+
+
+BOOK V. 19-20 
+
+
+deed in mind, and, * My son," he said, * you are 
+angered, and if I guess your meaning aright you 
+would send me away that you may do some violent 
+deed; for my part, then, I entreat you—act not 
+rashly by these men, lest you undo us, but bear 
+patiently the sight of what they do. But if you 
+would have me depart, to that I consent." 
+
+20. Amyntas with this request having gone his 
+ways, Alexander said to the Persians, “Sirs, you 
+have full freedom to deal with these women, and 
+may have intercourse with all or any of them. As 
+to that, you will yourselves declare your pleasure ; 
+but now, as the hour of your rest draws nigh and I 
+see that you are all well and truly drunk, suffer 
+these women, so please you, to depart and wash; 
+and when they have washed, look for them to come 
+to you again." Having so said, the Persians con- 
+senting thereto, he sent the women, when they had 
+gone out, away to their apartment ; Alexander then 
+took as many smooth-chinned men as there were 
+women and attired them in the women's dress and 
+gave them daggers; these he brought in, and so 
+doing he said to the Persians: * Methinks, men of 
+Persia, you have feasted to your hearts' content ; all 
+that we had and all besides that we could find to 
+give you has been set before you ; and now we make 
+you a free gift of our best and choicest possession, 
+our own mothers and sisters. Learn thereby that we 
+accord you the full meed of honour that you deserve, 
+and tell your king who sent you how his Greek 
+viceroy of Macedonia has received you hospitably to 
+board and bed." With that, Alexander made his 
+Macedonians to sit each next to a Persian, as though 
+they were women; and when the Persians began to 
+
+
+21 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐπείτε σφέων οἱ Πέρσαι ψαύειν ἐπειρῶντο, διεργά- 
+ζοντο αὐτούς. 
+
+21, Καὶ οὗτοι - μὲν τούτῳ τῷ μόρῳ διεφθάρησαν, 
+καὶ αὐτοὶ καὶ ἡ θεραπηίη αὐτῶν' εἵπετο γὰρ. δή 
+σφι καὶ ὀχήματα καὶ θεράποντες καὶ ἡ πᾶσα 
+πολλὴ παρασκευή: πάντα δὴ ταῦτα ἅμα πᾶσι 
+ἐκείνοισι ἠφάνιστο. μετὰ δὲ χρόνῳ οὐ πολλῷ 
+ὕστερον ζήτησις τῶν ἀνδρῶν τούτων µεγάλη ἐκ 
+τῶν Περσέων ἐγίνετο, καί σφεας. ᾿Αλέξανδρος 
+κατέλαβε σοφίῃ, χ χρήματά τε δοὺς πολλὰ καὶ τὴν 
+ἑωυτοῦ ἀδελφεὴν τῇ οὔνομα ἦν Γυγαίη' δοὺς δὲ 
+ταῦτα κατέλαβε ὸ ᾿Αλέξανδρος Βουβάρῃ ἀνδρὶ 
+Πέρσῃ, τῶν διζημένων τοὺς ἀπολομένους τῷ 
+rd 
+
+“O μέν νυν τῶν Περσέων τούτων θάνατος 
+οὕτω ᾿ καταλαμϕθεὶς ἐσιγήθη. "Ελληνας δὲ εἶναι 
+τούτους τοὺς ἀπὸ Περδίκκεω γεγονότας, κατά περ 
+αὐτοὶ λέγουσι, αὐτός τε οὕτω τυγχάνω ἐπιστά- 
+μενος καὶ δὴ καὶ ἐν τοῖσι ὄπισθε λόγοισι ἀποδέξω 
+ὡς εἰσὶ "Έλληνες, πρὸς δὲ καὶ οἱ τὸν ἐν Ὀλυμπίῃ 
+διέποντες ἆ ἀγῶνα Ἑλληνοδίκαι οὕτω ἔγνωσαν εἶναι. 
+᾿Αλεξάνδρου γὰρ. ἀεθλεύειν ἑλομένου καὶ καταβάν- 
+τος ἐπ᾽ αὐτὸ τοῦτο, οἱ ἀντιθευσόμενοι Ἑλλήνων 
+ἐξεῖργόν pw, φάμενοι ov βαρβάρων ἀγωνιστέων 
+εἶναι τὸν ἀγῶνα ἀλλὰ Ἑλλήνων: ᾿Αλέξανδρος δὲ 
+ἐπειδὴ ἀπέδεξε ὡς εἴη ᾿Αργεῖος, ἐκρίθη τε εἶναι 
+"Ἕλλην καὶ ἀγωνιζόμενος στάδιον συνεξέπιπτε 
+τῷ πρώτῳ. 
+
+23. Ταῦτα μέν νυν οὕτω KY ἐγένετο. Μεγά- 
+βαξος δὲ ἄγων τοὺς Παίονας ἀπίκετο ἐπὶ τὸν 
+Ἑλλήσποντον: ἐνθεῦτεν διαπεραιωθεὶς ἆ ἀπίκετο ἐς 
+τὰς Σάρδις. ἅτε δὲ τειχέοντος ἤδη Ἱστιαίου τοῦ 
+22 
+
+
+BOOK V. 20-23 
+
+
+lay hands on them, they were despatched by the 
+Macedonians. 
+
+21. This was the fate whereby they perished, they 
+and all their retinue; for carriages too had come 
+with them, and servants, and all the great train they 
+had ; the Macedonians made away with all that, as 
+well as with all the envoys themselves. No long time 
+afterwards the Persians made a great search for 
+these men; but Alexander had cunning enough to 
+put an end to it by the gift of a great sum and his 
+own sister Gygaea to Bubares, a Persian, the general 
+of those who sought for the slain men; by this gift 
+he made an end of the search. 
+
+22. Thuswas the death of these Persians suppressed 
+and hidden in silence. Now that these descendants of 
+Perdiccas are Greeks, as they themselves say, I my- 
+self chance to know and will prove it in the later 
+part of my history ; and further, the Hellenodicae! 
+who have the ordering of the contest at Olympia 
+determined that it is so. For when Alexander chose 
+to contend and entered the lists for that purpose, 
+the Greeks who were to run against him were for 
+barring him from the race, saying that the contest 
+should be for Greeks and not for foreigners; but 
+Alexander proving himself to be an Argive, he 
+was judged to be a Greek; so he contended in 
+the furlong race and ran a dead heat for the first 
+place. 
+
+23. In some such wise these things fell out. But 
+Megabazus came to the Hellespont, bringing with 
+him the Paeonians; thence he crossed it and came 
+to Sardis. Now as Histiaeus the Milesian was by 
+
+
+? Elean citizens, usually ten, who presided at the Olympic 
+games, Ἢ 
+23 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Μιλησίου τὴν παρὰ Δαρείου αἰτήσας ἔτυχε 
+μισθὸν. δωρεὴν. φυλακῆς τῆς σχεδίης, ἐόντος f^ 
+τοῦ χώρου τούτου παρ Στρυμόνα ποταμὸν τῷ 
+οὔνομα ἐστὶ Μύρκινος, μαθὼν ὁ Μεγάβαξος τὸ 
+ποιεύμενον ἐκ τοῦ Ἱστιαίου, ὡς ἦλθε τάχιστα ἐς 
+τὰς Σάρδις ἄγων τοὺς Παίονας, ἔλεγε Δαρείῳ τάδε. 
+NU βασιλεῦ, κοῖόν τι χρῆμα, ἐποίησας, ἀνδρὶ 
+Ἕλληνι δεινῷ τε καὶ σοφῷ δοὺς ἐγκτίσασθαι 
+πόλιν ἐν Θρηίκῃ, iva ἴδη τε ναυπηγήσιμος ἐστὶ 
+ἄφθονος καὶ πολλοὶ κωπέες καὶ μέταλλα ἀργύρεα, 
+ὅμιλος τε πολλὸς μὲν Ἕλλην περιοικέει πολλὸς 
+δὲ βάρβαρος, οἳ προστάτεω ἐπιλαβόμενοι ποιή- 
+σουσι τοῦτο τὸ ἂν κεῖνος ἐξηγέηται καὶ ἡμέρης 
+καὶ νυκτός. σύ. νυν τοῦτον τὸν ἄνδρα παῦσον 
+ταῦτα ποιεῦντα, ἵνα μὴ οἰκηίῳ πολέμῳ συνέχῃ᾽ 
+τρόπῳ. δὲ ἠπίῳ μεταπεμψάμενος παῦσον. ἐπεὰν 
+δὲ αὐτὸν περιλάβῃς, ποιέειν ὅκως μηκέτι κεῖνος ἐς 
+Ελληνας ἀπίξεται." 
+
+24. Ταῦτα -λέγων ὁ Μεγάβαξος εὐπετέως ἔπειθε 
+Δαρεῖον ὡς εὖ προορῶν τὸ μέλλον γίνεσθαι. μετὰ 
+δὲ πέμψας ἄγγελον ἐς τὴν Μύρκινον ὁ Δαρεῖος 
+ἔλεγε τάδε. i Ἱστιαῖε, βασιλεὺς Δαρεῖος τάδε 
+λέγει. ἐγὼ φροντίξων εὑρίσκω ἐμοί τε καὶ τοῖσι 
+ἐμοῖσι πρήγμασι εἶναι οὐδένα σεῦ ἄνδρα εὐνοέ- 
+στερον' τοῦτο. δὲ οὐ λόγοισι ἀλλ᾽ ἔργοισι. οἶδα 
+μαθών. νῦν ὧν, ἐπινοέω γὰρ πρήγματα μεγάλα 
+κατεργάσασθαι, ἀπίκεό μοι πάντως, ἵνα του αὐτὰ 
+ὑπερθέωμαι." τούτοισι τοῖσι ἔπεσι πιστεύσας 
+0 Ἱστιαῖος, καὶ ἅμα μέγα ποιεύμενος βασιλέος 
+σύμβουλος γενέσθαι, ἀπίκετο ἐς τὰς Σάρδις: ἀπι- 
+κομένῳ δέ οἱ ἔλεγε Δαρεῖος τάδε. * Ἱστιαῖε, ἐγώ 
+σε μετεπεμψ-άμην τῶνδε εἴνεκεν. ἐπείτε τάχι- 
+
+
+24 
+
+
+BOOK V. 23-24 
+
+
+this time fortifying the place which he had asked of 
+Darius as his reward for guarding the bridge (this 
+was a place called Myrcinus by the river Strymon), 
+Megabazus had learnt what Histiaeus was about, and 
+no sooner had he come to Sardis with the Paeonians 
+than he said to Darius: **Sire, what is this that you 
+have done? You have given a clever and cunning 
+Greek a city to build in Thrace, where are forests in 
+plenty for ship-building, and much wood for oars, 
+and mines of silver, and much people both Greek 
+and foreign dwelling around, who when they have a 
+champion to lead them will do all his behests by day 
+or by night. Do you then stay this man from these 
+his doings, lest you have a war on hand with your 
+own subjects ; but to this end bring him to you by 
+gentle means; and when you have him safe, see to 
+it that he never return to Hellas." 
+
+24. Darius was readily persuaded by this, for he 
+thought that Megabazus foresaw the future aright ; 
+and presently he sent this message to Myrcinus: 
+“These to Histiaeus from Darius the king:—My 
+thoughts can show me no man who is a truer friend 
+to me and mine ; not words but deeds have proved 
+this to me. Now therefore let nothing hinder you 
+from coming to me, that I may disclose to you 
+certain great purposes which I have in mind." 
+Trusting these words, and proud, moreover, that he 
+should be the king's counsellor, Histiaeus came to 
+Sardis; and when he had come Darius said to him, 
+s Histiaeus, I will tell you wherefore I sent for you. 
+
+
+25 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+στα ἐνόστησα ἀπὸ Σκυθέων καὶ σύ po ἐγένεο ἐξ 
+ὀφθαλμῶν, οὐδέν κω ἄλλο χρῆμα οὕτω ἐν βραχέι 
+ἐπεξήτησα ὡς σὲ ἰδεῖν τε καὶ ἐς λόγους μοι ἀπικέ- 
+σθαι, ἐ ἐγνωκὼς ὅτι κτημάτων πάντων ἐστὶ τιμιώ- 
+τατον ἀνὴρ φίλος συνετός τε καὶ εὔνοος, τά τοι 
+ἐγὼ καὶ ἀμφότερα συνειδὼς ἔχω μαρτυρέειν ἐς 
+πρήγματα τὰ ἐμά. νῦν ὧν, εὖ γὰρ ἐποίησας ἁπ- 
+ικόµενος, τάδε τοι ἐγὼ προτείνομαι" Μίλητον μὲν 
+ἔα καὶ τὴν νεόκτιστον ἐν Θρηίκῃ, πόλιν, σὺ δέ μοι 
+ἑπόμενος ἐς Σοῦσα ἔ ἔχε τά περ ἂν ἐγὼ ἔχω, ἐμός 
+τε σύσσιτος ἐὼν καὶ σύμβουλος." 
+
+25. Tavra Δαρεῖος εἴπας, καὶ καταστήσας ᾿Αρ- 
+ταφρένεα ἀδελφεὸν ἑωντοῦ ὁμοπάτριον ὕπαρχον 
+εἶναι Σαρδίων, ἀπήλαυνε ἐς Σοῦσα ἅμα ἀγόμενος 
+Ἱστιαῖον, Ὀτάνεα δὲ ἀποδέξας στρατηγὸν εἶναι 
+τῶν παραθαλασσίων ἀνδρῶν" τοῦ τὸν πατέρα 
+Σισάµνην βασιλεὺς Καμβύσης γενόμενον τῶν 
+βασιληίων δικαστέων, ὅτι ἐπὶ χρήμασι. δίκην 
+ἄδικον ἐδίκασε, σφάξας ἀπέδειρε πᾶσαν τὴν av- 
+θρωπέη», σπαδίξας δὲ αὐτοῦ τὸ δέρμα ἱ ἱμάντας ἐξ 
+αὐτοῦ ἔταμε καὶ ἐνέτεινε τὸν θρόνον ἐς τὸν ἴζων 
+ἐδίκαξε: ἐντανύσας δὲ ὁ Καμβύσης ἀπέδεξε δικα- 
+στὴν εἶναι ἀντὶ τοῦ Σισάµνεω, τὸν ἀποκτείνας 
+ἀπέδειρε, τὸν παῖδα τοῦ Σισάµνεω, ἐντειλάμενός 
+οἱ μεμνῆσθαι ἐ ἐν τῷ κατίζων θρόνῳ δικάζει. 
+
+26. Οὗτος à ὧν ὁ Ὀτάνης ὁ ο ἐγκατιξόμενος ἐ ἐς τοῦ- 
+τον τὸν _Opovor, τότε διάδοχος γενόμενος Μεγα- 
+βάξῳ τῆς στρατηγίης, Βυζαντίους τε εἷλε καὶ 
+Καλχηδονίους, εἷλε δὲ "Αντανδρον τὴν ἐν τῇ 
+ες. γῇ, εἷλε δὲ Λαμπώνιον, λαβὼν δὲ παρὰ 
+
+Λεσβίων νέας εἷλε Λῆμνόν τε καὶ Ἴμβρον, ἀμφο- 
+τέρας ἔτι τότε ὑπὸ Πελασγῶν οἰκεομένας. 
+
+
+26 
+
+
+BOOK V. 24-26 
+
+
+As soon as I returned from Scythia and you were 
+gone from my sight, there was nothing whereof I 
+had so immediate a desire as the seeing and speaking 
+with you ; for I knew that the most precious of all 
+possessions is a wise and loyal friend; and I can 
+witness of my own knowledge that you have dealt 
+both wisely and loyally with me. Now therefore, 
+seeing that you have done well in coming hither, I 
+make you this proposal:—leave Miletus and your 
+newly founded Thracian city, and follow me to 
+Susa, to have there all that is mine and to share 
+my table and my counsels." 
+
+25. So said Darius; and appointing Artaphrenes 
+his father's son to be viceroy of Sardis, he rode 
+away to Susa, taking Histiaeus with him. But first 
+he made Otanes governor of the people on the 
+sea-coast. Otanes’ father Sisamnes had been one 
+of the royal judges;! Cambyses had cut his throat 
+and flayed off all his skin because he had been bribed 
+to give an unjust judgment; and he had then cut 
+leather strips of the skin which had been torn away 
+and covered therewith the seat whereon Sisamnes 
+had sat to give judgment; which having done, 
+Cambyses appointed the son of this slain and flayed 
+Sisamnes to be judge in his place, admonishing him 
+to remember what was the judgment-seat whereon 
+he sat. 
+
+26. This Otanes then, who sat upon that seat, was 
+now made successor to Megabazus in his governor- 
+ship; he took Byzantium and Calchedon, and An- 
+tandrus in the Troad, and Lamponium; and he 
+conquered with ships that he got from the Lesbians 
+Lemnos and Imbros, both then still inhabited by 
+Pelasgians. 
+
+! Cp. III. 31. | 
+2] 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+27. Οἱ μὲν δὴ Λήμνιοι καὶ ἐμαχέσαντο. εὖ καὶ 
+ἀμυνόμενοι ἀνὰ χρόνον ἐκακώθησαν, τοῖσι δὲ 
+περιεοῦσι αὐτῶν οἱ Πέρσαι ὕπαρχον ἐπιστᾶσι 
+Λυκάρητον τὸν Μαιανδρίου τοῦ βασιλεύσαντος 
+Σάμου ἀδελφεόν. οὗτος o Λυκάρητος ἄρχων ἐν 
+Λήμνῳ τελευτᾷ. αἰτίη δὲ τούτου ἥδε" πάντας 
+jvõparoðitero καὶ κατεστρέφετο τοὺς μὲν λιπο- 
+στρατίης ἐπὶ Σκύθας αἰτιώμενος, τοὺς δὲ σίνασθαι 
+τὸν Δαρείου στρατὸν ἀπὸ Σκυθέων ὀπίσω ἀποκο- 
+μιζόμενον. 
+
+98, Οὗτος δὲ τοσαῦτα ἐξεργάσατο στρατηγή- 
+σας. μετὰ δὲ οὗ πολλὸν χρόνον ἄνεσις κακῶν 
+ἦν, καὶ ἤρχετο τὸ δεύτερον ἐ ἐκ Νάξου τε καὶ Μιλή- 
+του Ἴωσι γίνεσθαι. κακά. τοῦτο μὲν γὰρ 7) Νάξος 
+εὐδαιμονίῃ τῶν νήσων προέφερε, τοῦτο δὲ κατὰ 
+τὸν αὐτὸν χρόνον ἡ Μίλητος αὐτή τε ἑωυτῆς 
+μάλιστα δὴ τότε ἀκμάσασα καὶ δὴ καὶ τῆς ᾿Ιωνίης 
+ἦν πρόσχημα, κατύπερθε δὲ τούτων ἐπὶ δύο ' γενεὰς 
+ἀνδρῶν νοσήσασα ἐς τὰ μάλιστα στάσι, μέχρι οὗ 
+μιν Πάριοι κατήρτισαν' τούτους γὰρ καταρτιστῆ- 
+pas ἐκ πάντων Ελλήνων εἵλοντο οἱ Μιλήσιοι. 
+
+99. Κατήλλαξαν δὲ σφέας ὧδε Πάριοι. ὡς 
+
+ἀπίκοντο αὐτῶν ἄνδρες οἱ ἄριστοι ἐς τὴν Μίλη- 
+τον, ὥρων γὰρ δή σφεας δεινῶς οἰκοφθορημένους, 
+ἔφασαν αὐτῶν βούλεσθαι διεξελθεῖν τὴν χώρην" 
+ποιεῦντες δὲ ταῦτα καὶ διεξιόντες πᾶσαν τὴν 
+Μιλησίην, ὅκως τινὰ ἴδοιεν ἐν ἀνεστηκυίη τῇ 
+χώρῃ ἀγρὸν εὖ ἐξεργασμένον, ἀπεγράφοντο τὸ 
+οὔνομα ToU δεσπότεω τοῦ ἀγροῦ. διεξελάσαντες 
+δὲ πᾶσαν τὴν χώρην καὶ σπανίους εὑρόντες τούτους, 
+ὡς τάχισ τα κατέβησαν ἐς τὸ ἄστυ, ἁλίην ποιησάµε- 
+vot ἀπέδεξαν τούτους μὲν τὴν πὀλιν νέμειν τῶν εὗρον 
+28 
+
+
+BOOK V. 27-29 
+
+
+27. The Lemnians fought well and defended 
+themselves, till at last they were brought to evil 
+plight, and the Persians set a governor over those 
+that were left of them, Lycaretus the brother of 
+Maeandrius who had been king of Samos. This 
+Lycaretus came to his end while ruling in Lemnos; 
+this was because he strove to enslave and subdue all 
+the people, accusing some of shunning service against 
+the Scythians, and others of plundering Darius’ army 
+on its way back from Scythia. 
+
+28. All this Otanes achieved when he had been 
+made governor. Thereafter, when there had been 
+no long surcease of evils, trouble began to come on 
+the Ionians from Naxos and Miletus once more. For 
+Naxos surpassed all the other islands in prosperity, 
+and at about the same time Miletus was then at the 
+height of her fortunes, insomuch that she was the 
+chief ornament of lonia; but for two generations 
+before this she had.been very greatly troubled by 
+faction, till the Parians made peace among them, 
+being chosen out of all Greeks by the Milesians to 
+be peace-makers. | 
+
+29. The Parians reconciled them in this man- 
+ner :—Their best men came to Miletus, and seeing 
+the Milesian households sadly wasted, said that they 
+desired to go about their country. Doing this, 
+and visiting all the territory of Miletus, whenever 
+they found any well-tilled farm in the desolation 
+ef the land, they wrote down the name of the owner 
+of that farm. Then, having travelled over the whole 
+country and found but few such men, no sooner had 
+they returned to the city than they assembled the 
+people and appointed as rulers of the state those 
+
+
+29 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τοὺς ἀγροὺς εὖ ἐξεργασμένουο" δοκέειν γὰρ ἔφασαν 
+καὶ τῶν δημοσίων οὕτω δή σφεας ἐπιμελήσεσθαι 
+ὥσπερ τῶν σφετέρων: TOUS δὲ ἄλλους Μιλησίους 
+τοὺς πρὶν στασιάξοντας τούτων ἔταξαν πείθεσθαι. 
+30. Πάριοι μέν νυν Μιλησίους. οὕτω κατήρτι- 
+σαν. . τότε δὲ ἐκ τουτέων τῶν πολίων ὧδε ἤρχετο 
+κακὰ γίνεσθαι τῇ Ἰωνίῃ. ἐκ Νάξου ἔφυγον 
+ἄνδρες τῶν παχέων ὑπὸ τοῦ δήμου, φυγόντες δὲ 
+ἀπίκοντο ἐς Μίλητον. τῆς δὲ Μιλήτου ἐτύγχανε 
+ἐπίτροπος ἐὼν ᾿Αρισταγόρης ὁ 0 Μολπαγόρεω, γαμ- 
+β ός τε ἑὼν καὶ | ἀνεψιὸς Ἱστιαίου τοῦ Λυσαγόρεω, 
+τὸν ὁ Δαρεῖος é ἐν Σούσοισι κατεῖχε' ὁ γὰρ Ἱστιαῖος 
+τύραννος ἦν Μιλήτου καὶ ἐτύγχανε τοῦτον τὸν 
+χρόνον ἐὼν ἐν Σούσοισι, ὅτε οἱ Νάξιοι ἦλθον 
+ξεῖνοι πρὶν ἐόντες τῷ “Ἱστιαίῳ. ἀπικόμενοι δὲ οἱ 
+Νάξιοι ἐ ἐς τὴν Μίλητον ἐδέοντο τοῦ ᾿Αρισταγόρεω, 
+εἴ κως αὐτοῖσι παράσχοι δύναμίν τινα καὶ κατ; 
+έλθοιεν € ἐς τὴν ἑωυτῶν. ὃ δὲ ἐπιλεξάμενος ὦ ὡς ἣν 6t 
+αὐτοῦ κατέλθωσι ἐ ἐς τὴν πόλιν, ἄρξει τῆς Νάξου, 
+σκῆψιν δὲ ποιεύμενος τὴν ξεινίην τὴν Ἱστιαίου, 
+τόνδε σφι λόγον προσέφερε. “ Αὐτὸς μὲν ὑμῖν οὐ 
+φερέγγυος. εὐμὶ δύναμιν παρασχεῖν τοσαύτην ὥστε 
+κατάγειν ἀεκόντων τῶν τὴν πόλιν É ἐχόντων Ναξίων: 
+πυνθάνομαι γὰρ ὀκτακισχιλίην ἀσπίδα Ναξίοισι 
+εἶναι καὶ πλοῖα μακρὰ πολλά. μηχανήσομαι δὲ 
+πᾶσαν σπουδὴν ποιεύμενος. ἐπινοέω δὲ τῆδε. 
+᾿Αρταφρένης μοι τυγχάνει ἐὼν φίλος’ ὁ δὲ ᾿Αρτα- 
+fiers ὑμῖν Ὕστάσπεος μὲν ἐστὶ παῖς, Δαρείου 
+ἑ τοῦ βασιλέος ἀδελφεός, τῶν δ ἐπιθαλασσίων 
+τῶν ἐν τῇ ᾿Ασίῃ ἄ χει πάντων, ἔχων στρατιήν Te 
+πολλὴν καὶ πολλὰς νέας. τοῦτον ὧν δοκέω τὸν 
+ἄνδρα ποιήσειν τῶν ἂν χρηίξζωμεν.᾽ ταῦτα ἀκού- 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+BOOK V. 29-30 
+
+
+whose lands they had found well tilled; for these 
+(they said) were like to take as good care of public 
+affairs as they had of their own ; and they ordained 
+that the rest of the Milesians who had been at feud 
+should obey these men. 
+
+30. Thus the Parians made peace in Miletus. 
+But now these cities began to bring trouble upon 
+Ionia, and thus it befel :—Certain men of substance, 
+being banished from Naxos by the commonalty, 
+betook themselves ‘to Miletus. Now it chanced 
+that the deputy ruling Miletus was Aristagoras son 
+of Molpagoras, son-in-law and cousin of that Histiaeus 
+son of Lysagoras whom Darius kept with him at 
+Susa; for Histiaeus was despot of Miletus, and was 
+at Susa when the Naxians came; and they had been 
+guests and friends of Histiaeus. The Naxians then 
+on their coming to Miletus asked of Aristagoras if 
+haply he could give them some power and so they 
+might return to their own country. Considering 
+that if by his means they were restored to their 
+city he would be ruler of Naxos, and making a 
+pretext of their friendship with Histiaeus, he made 
+them this proposal: * For myself, it lies not in my 
+rights to give you such a power as will restore you, 
+against the will of the Naxians who hold your city ; 
+for I am assured that the Naxians have eight thousand 
+men that bear shields, and many ships of war; but 
+I will use all diligence to contrive the matter. And 
+this is my plan. Artaphrenes is my friend; now 
+know, that Artaphrenes is Hystaspes' son and brother 
+to Darius the king; he is governor of all the sea- 
+coast peoples of Αξία and has a great army and many 
+ships; this man then will, I think, do whatever we 
+
+
+3I 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+σαντες οἱ Νάξιοι προσέθεσαν τῷ ᾿Αρισταγόρῃ 
+πρήσσειν τῇ δύναιτο ἄ ἄριστα, καὶ ὑπίσχεσθαι δῶρα 
+ἐκέλευον καὶ δαπάνην τῇ στρατιῇ ὡς αὐτοὶ διαλύ- 
+σοντες, ἐλπίδας πολλὰς ἔ έχοντες, ὅταν ἐπιφανέωσι 
+ἐς τὴν Νάξον, πάντα ποιήσειν τοὺς Ναξίους τὰ ἂν 
+αὐτοὶ κελεύωσι, ἃ QS δὲ καὶ τοὺς ἄλλους νησιώτας. 
+τῶν γὰρ νήσων τουτέων τῶν Κυκλάδων οὐδεμία 
+Kw Bi ὑπὸ Δαρείφ. 
+᾿Απικόμενος δὲ ὁ ᾿Αρισταγόρης è ἐς τὰς Σάρδις 
+e πρὸς τὸν ᾿Αρταφρένεα ὡς Νάξος εἴη νῆσος 
+μεγάθεϊ μὲν οὐ μεγάλη, ἄλλως δὲ καλή τε καὶ 
+ἀγαθὴ καὶ ἀγχοῦ. Ἰωνίης, χρήματα δὲ ἔ ἔνι πολλὰ 
+καὶ ἀνδράποδα. σὺ ὧν ἐπὶ ταύτην τὴν χώρην 
+στρατηλάτεε, κατάγων ἐς αὐτὴν τοὺς φυγάδας ἐξ 
+αὐτῆς. καί τοι ταῦτα ποιήσαντι τοῦτο μὲν ἐστὶ 
+ἕτοιμα παρ᾽ ἐμοὶ χρήματα μεγάλα πάρεξ τῶν 
+ἀναισιμωμάτων τῇ στρατιῇῃ' ταῦτα μὲν γὰρ δί- 
+καιον ἡμέας τοὺς ἄγοντας παρέχειν ἐστί: τοῦτο δὲ 
+νήσους βασιλέι προσκτήσεαι αὐτήν τε Νάξον καὶ 
+τὰς ἐκ ταύτης ἠρτημένας, Πάρον καὶ "Ανδρον καὶ 
+ἄλλας τὰς Κυκλάδας καλευμένας. ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ 
+ὁρμώμενος εὐπετέως ἐπιθήσεαι Εὐβοίῃ νήσῳ με- 
+γάλῃ τε καὶ εὐδαίμονι, οὐκ ἐλάσσονι Κύπρου καὶ 
+κάρτα εὐπετέι αἱρεθῆναι. ἀποχρῶσι δὲ ἑκατὸν 
+νέες ταύτας πάσας χειρώσασθαι. ὃ δὲ ἀμείβετο 
+αὐτὸν τοῖσιδε. ji Σὺ ἐ ἐς οἶκον τὸν βασιλέος ἐξηγη- 
+τὴς γίνεαι πρηγμάτων ἀγαθῶν, καὶ ταῦτα εὖ 
+παραινέεις πάντα, πλὴν τῶν νεῶν τοῦ ἀριθ μοῦ" 
+ἀντὶ δὲ é ἑκατὸν νεῶν διηκόσιαί του ἔτοιμο ἔσονται 
+ἅμα, τῷ ἔαρι. δεῖ δὲ τούτοισι καὶ αὐτὸν βασιλέα 
+συνέπαινον γίνεσθαι.” 
+32. Ὃ μὲν δὴ ᾿Αρισταγόρης ὡς ταῦτα ἤκουσε, 
+
+
+3? 
+
+
+BOOK V. 30-32 
+
+
+desire." Hearing this, the Naxians left the matter 
+for Aristagoras to deal with as best he could, bidding 
+him promise gifts and the costs of the army, for 
+which they would themselves be chargeable; for 
+they had great hope that when they should appear 
+off Naxos the Naxians would obey all their com- 
+mands, and that the rest of the islanders would do 
+likewise. For as yet none of these Cyclades islands 
+was subject to Darius. 
+
+31. Aristagoras came to Sardis and told Arta- 
+phrenes that Naxos was indeed an island of no 
+great size, but for the rest a fair and a good land 
+and near to lonia, with much wealth withal and 
+many slaves thereim “Do you therefore send an 
+armament against that country, bringing back the 
+men who have been banished thence. And if you 
+so do, I have a great sum at your service, over and 
+above the costs of the armament; for it is but just 
+that we, who bring you, should be chargeable for 
+that; and further, you will win new dominions for 
+the king, Naxos itself and the islands which are its 
+dependants, Paros, Andros, and the rest of those that 
+are called Cyclades. Making these your starting- 
+point, you will easily attack Euboea, which is a great 
+and a wealthy island, no smaller than Cyprus and 
+very easy to take. An hundred ships suffice for the 
+conquest of all these." “ This plan which you set 
+forth," Artaphrenes answered, “is profitable for the 
+king's house, and all this your counsel is good, save 
+as to the number of the ships; not one hundred but 
+two hundred ships shall be ready for you when the 
+spring comes. But the king too must himself con- 
+sent to this." 
+
+32. When Aristagoras heard that, he went away to 
+
+33 
+
+VOL. III. D 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+περιχαρὴς ἐὼν ἁπήιε ἐς Μίλητον. ὁ δὲ ᾿Αρτα- 
+φρένης, ὥς οἱ πέμψαντι ἐς Σοῦσα καὶ ὑπερθέντι 
+τὰ ἐκ τοῦ ᾿Αρισταγόρεω λεγόμενα συνέπαινος καὶ 
+αὐτὸς Δαρεῖος ἐγένετο, παρεσκευάσατο μὲν διηκο- 
+σίας τριήρεας, πολλὸν δὲ κάρτα ὅμιλον Περσέων 
+τε καὶ τῶν ἄλλων συμμάχων, στρατηγὸν δὲ 
+τούτων ἀπέδεξε Μεγαβάτην ἄνδρα Πέρσην τῶν 
+᾿Αχαιμενιδέων, ἑωυτοῦ τε καὶ Δαρείου ἀνεψιὸν, 
+τοῦ Παυσανίης ὁ Κλεομβρότου Λακεδαιμόνιος, εἰ 
+δὴ ἀληθής γε ἐστὶ ὁ λόγος, ὑστέρῳ χρόνῳ τουτων 
+ἡρμόσατο θυγατέρα, ἔρωτα σχὼν τῆς Ἑλλάδος 
+τύραννος γενέσθαι. ἀποδέξας δὲ Μεγαβάτην 
+στρατηγὸν Ἀρταφρένης ἀπέστειλε τὸν στρατὸν 
+παρὰ τὸν ᾿Αρισταγὀρεα. 
+
+33. Παραλαβὼν δὲ ὁ Μεγαβάτης τόν τε Ἂρι- 
+σταγόρεα ἐκ τῆς Μιλήτου καὶ τὴν ᾿Ιάδα στρατιὴν 
+καὶ τοὺς Ναξίους ἔπλεε πρόφασιν ἐπ Ἕλλη- 
+σπόντου, ἐπείτε δὲ ἐγένετο ἐν Χίῳ, ἔσχε τὰς νέας 
+ἐς Καύκασα, ὡς ἐνθεῦτεν βορέῃ ἀνέμῳ ἐς τὴν 
+Νάξον διαβάλοι. καὶ οὐ γὰρ ἔδεε τούτῳ τῷ 
+στόλῳ Ναξίους ἀπολέσθαι, πρῆγμα τοιόνδε συν- 
+ηνείχθη γενέσθαι. περιιόντος Μεγαβάτεω τὰς ἐπὶ 
+τῶν νεῶν φυλακάς, ἐπὶ νεὸς Μυνδίης ἔτυχε οὐδεὶς 
+φυλάσσων' ὃ δὲ δεινόν τι ποιησάμενος ἐκέλευσε 
+τοὺς δορυφόρους ἐξευρόντας τὸν ἄρχοντα ταύτης 
+τῆς νεός, τῷ οὔνομα ἣν Σκύλαξ, τοῦτον δῆσαι διὰ 
+θαλαμίης διελόντας τῆς νεὸς κατὰ τοῦτο, ἔξω μὲν 
+κεφαλὴν ποιεῦντας ἔσω δὲ τὸ σῶμα. δεθέντος δὲ 
+τοῦ Σκύλακος, ἐξαγγέλλει τις τῷ ᾿Αρισταγόρῃ 
+ὅτι τὸν ξεῖνόν οἱ τὸν Μύνδιον Μεγαβάτης δήσας 
+λυμαίνοιτο. ὃ δ᾽ ἐλθὼν παραιτέετο τὸν Πέρσην, 
+
+
+34 
+
+
+BOOK V. 32-33 
+
+
+Miletus in great joy. Artaphrenes sent a messenger 
+to Susa with the news of what Aristagoras said ; and 
+Darius himself too consenting to the plan, he equipped 
+two hundred triremes and a very great company of 
+Persians and their allies besides, and appointed for 
+their general Megabates, a Persian of the Achaemenid 
+family, cousin to himself and to Darius ; this was he 
+whose daughter (if indeed the tale be true) Pausanias 
+the Lacedaemonian, son of Cleombrotus, at a later 
+day betrothed to himself, being ambitious of the 
+sovereignty of Hellas. Having appointed Mega- 
+bates general, Artaphrenes sent his army away to 
+Aristagoras. 
+
+33. Then Megabates! brought Aristagoras from 
+Miletus, and the Ionian army, and the Naxians, and 
+pretended to make sail to the Hellespont; but when 
+he came to Chios he put in with his ships at Caucasa,? 
+that he might cross with a north wind to Naxos. 
+But, since it was not written that the Naxians were 
+to be destroyed by this armament, this befel which 
+I here relate. For when Megabates went his rounds 
+among the ships' watches, it chanced that on a ship 
+of Myndus there was no watch kept; whereat Mega- 
+bates, being very angry, bade his guards find the 
+captain of this ship (whose name was Scylax) and 
+thrust him partly through an oar-hole of the ship 
+and bind him there, in such fashion that his head 
+was outside the ship and his body inside. So Scylax 
+was bound; and one brought word to Aristagoras, 
+that his Myndian friend was bound and despitefully 
+entreated by Megabates. Aristagoras went then 
+and pleaded with the Persian for Scylax, but ob- 
+
+
+1 Megabates’ expedition was in 499. . 
+? Evidently a harbour on the S.W. coast of Chios. 
+|| 39 
+D 2 | 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τυγχάνων δὲ οὐδενὸς τῶν ἐδέετο, αὐτὸς ἐλθὼν 
+ἔλυσε. πυθόμενος δὲ κάρτα δεινὸν ἐποιήσατο ὁ 
+Μεγαβάτης καὶ ἐσπέρχετο τῷ ᾿Αρισταγόρῃ, ὃ 
+δὲ εἶπε “Σοὶ δὲ καὶ τούτοισι τοῖσι πρήγμασι τί 
+ἐστι; οὐ σὲ ἀπέστειλε ᾿Αρταφρένης ἐμέο πείθε- 
+σθαι καὶ πλέειν τῇ ἂν ἐγὼ κελεύω; τί πολλὰ 
+πρήσσεις ; ταῦτα εἶπε ὁ ᾿Αρισταγόρης. ὃ δὲ 
+θυμωθεὶς τούτοισι, ὡς νὺξ ἐγένετο, ἔπεμπε ἐς 
+Νάξον πλοίῳ ἄνδρας φράσοντας τοῖσι Ναξίοισι 
+πάντα τὰ παρεόντα σφι πρήγματα. 
+
+94. Οἱ γὰρ ὧν Νάξιοι οὐδὲν πάντως προσεδέ- 
+κοντο ἐπὶ σφέας τὸν στόλον τοῦτον ὁρμήσεσθαι. 
+ἐπεὶ μέντοι ἐπύθοντο, αὐτίκα μὲν ἐσηνείκαντο τὰ 
+ἐκ τῶν ἀγρῶν ἐς τὸ τεῖχος, παρεσκευάσαντο δὲ 
+ὡς πολιορκησόμενοι καὶ σῖτα καὶ ποτά, καὶ τὸ 
+τεῖχος ἐσάξαντο. καὶ οὗτοι μὲν παρεσκευάξοντο 
+ὡς παρεσομένου σφι πολέμου' of Ò ἐπείτε cı- 
+éBarov ἐκ τῆς Χίου τὰς νέας ἐς τὴν Νάξον, 
+πρὸς πεφραγμένους προσεφέροντο καὶ ἐπολιόρκεον 
+μῆνας τέσσερας. ὡς δὲ τά τε ἔχοντες ἦλθον χρή- 
+ματα οἱ Πέρσαι, ταῦτα κατεδεδαπάνητὀ σφι, καὶ 
+αὐτῷ τῷ ᾿Αρισταγόρῃ προσαναισίµωτο πολλά, 
+τοῦ πλεῦνός τε ἐδέετο ἡ πολιορκίη, ἐνθαῦτα τείχεα 
+τοῖσι φυγάσι τῶν Ναξίων οἰκοδομήσαντες ἀπαλ- 
+λάσσοντο ἐς τὴν ἤπειρον κακῶς πρήσσοντες. 
+
+35. ᾿Αρισταγόρης δὲ οὐκ εἶχε τὴν ὑπόσχεσιν 
+τῷ ᾿Αρταφρένεϊ ἐκτελέσαι’ ἅμα δὲ ἐπίεζέ μιν ἡ 
+δαπάνη τῆς στρατιῆς ἀπαιτεομένη, ἀρρώδεέ τε 
+τοῦ στρατοῦ πρήξαντος κακῶς καὶ Μεγαβάτῃ 
+διαβεβλημένος, ἐδόκεέ τε τὴν βασιληίην τῆς 
+Μιλήτου ἀπαιρεθήσεσθαι. ἀρρωδέων δὲ τούτων 
+ἕκαστα ἐβουλεύετο ἀπόστασιν: συνέπιπτε γὰρ 
+
+
+36 
+
+
+BOOK V. 33-35 
+
+
+tained nothing that he requested ; whereupon he 
+came and released the man himself. When Mega- 
+bates learnt this, he was very angry, and was violent 
+against Aristagoras. But Aristagoras said, “ But 
+you— what have you to do with these matters? Did 
+not Artaphrenes send you to obey me and to sail 
+whithersoever I bid you? Why are you so meddle- 
+some?" So said Aristagoras; Megabates, enraged 
+by this, sent men at nightfall in a boat to Naxos, to 
+tell the Naxians of the trouble in store for them. 
+
+34. For the Naxians had no suspicion at all that it 
+was they who were to be attacked by that armament. 
+Howbeit, when they learnt the truth, straightway 
+they brought within their walls all that was in 
+their fields, and stored both meat and drink against 
+a siege, and strengthened their walls. So they made 
+all preparations to face the onset of war; and when 
+their enemies had brought their ships over from 
+Chios to Naxos, it was a city fortified that they 
+attacked, and for four months they besieged it. 
+Then, when the Persians had expended all the 
+money with which they had come, and Aristagoras 
+himself had spent much beside, and ever more was 
+needful for the siege, they built a stronghold for the 
+banished Naxians, and betook themselves to the 
+mainland in very evil case. 
+
+35. Aristagoras had no way of fulfilling his promise 
+to Artaphrenes; he was hard pressed by demands 
+for the costs of the armament, and he feared what 
+might come of the ill-success of the army and 
+Megabates' displeasure against him; it was like, 
+he thought, that his lordship of Miletus would 
+be taken away from him. With all these fears in 
+his mind, he began to plan revolt; for it chanced 
+
+
+37 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+καὶ τὸν ἐστιγμένον τὴν κεφαλὴν ἀπῖχθαι ἐκ 
+Σούσων παρὰ Ἱστιαίου, σημαίνοντα ἀπίστασθαι 
+᾿Αρισταγόρην ἀπὸ βασιλέος. ὁ γὰρ. Ἱστιαῖος 
+βουλόμενος τῷ ᾿Αρισταγόρῃ σημῆναι ἀποστῆναι 
+ἄλλως μὲν οὐδαμῶς εἶχε ἀσφαλέως σημῆναι ὥστε 
+φυλασσομενέων τῶν ὁδῶν, ὃ ὃ δὲ τῶν δούλων τὸν 
+πιστότατον ἀποξυρήσας τὴν κεφαλὴν ἔστιξε καὶ 
+ἀνέμεινε ἀναφῦναι τὰς τρίχας, ὡς δὲ ἀνέφυσαν 
+τάχιστα, ἀπέπεμπε ἐς Μίλητον ἐντειλάμενος 
+αὐτῷ ἄλλο μὲν οὐδέν, ἐπεὰν δὲ ἀπίκηται ἐς Μί- 
+λητον, κελεύειν ᾿Αρισταγόρην ξυρήσαντά μιν τὰς 
+τρίχας, κατιδέσθαι ἐ ἐς τὴν κεφαλήν. τὰ δὲ στίγ- 
+ματα ἐσήμαινε, ὡς καὶ πρότερόν μοι εἴρηται, 
+ἀπόστασιν. ταῦτα δὲ ὁ ὁ Ἱστιαῖος ἐ ἐποίεε συμφορὴν 
+ποιεύμενος μεγάλην τὴν ἑωυτοῦ .κατοχὴν τὴν ἐν 
+Σούσοισι: ἀποστάσιος ὧν γινομένης πολλὰς εἶχε 
+ἐλπίδας μετήσεσθαι ἐ ἐπὶ θάλασσαν, μὴ δὲ νεώτερόν 
+τι ποιεύσης τῆς Μιλήτου οὐδαμὰ ἐς αὐτὴν ἥξειν 
+ἔτι ἐλογίζετο. 
+
+36. Ἱστιαῖος μέν νυν ταῦτα διανοεύμενος ἀπέ- 
+πέμπε τὸν ἄγγελον, ᾿Αρισταγόρῃ δὲ συνέπιπτε 
+τοῦ αὐτοῦ χρόνου πάντα ταῦτα συνελθόντα. 
+ἐβουλεύετο ὧν μετὰ τῶν στασιωτέων, ἐκφήνας 
+τήν τε ἑωυτοῦ γνώμην καὶ τὰ παρὰ τοῦ Ἱστιαίου 
+ἀπιγμένα. οἱ μὲν δὴ ἄλλοι πάντες γνώμην κατὰ 
+τὠυτὸ ἐξεφέροντο, κελεύοντες ἀπίστασθαι: Ἕκα- 
+ταῖος 8 ὁ .λογοποιὸς πρῶτα μὲν οὐκ ἔα πόλεμον 
+βασιλέι τῶν ΠἹερσέων ἀναιρέεσθαι, καταλέγων τά 
+τε ἔθνεα πάντα τῶν ἦρχε Δαρεῖος καὶ τὴν δύναμιν 
+αὐτοῦ. ἐπείτε δὲ οὐκ ἔπειθε, δεύτερα συνεβού- 
+λευε ποιέειν ὅκως ναυκρατέες τῆς θαλάσσης è ἔσον- 
+ται. ἄλλως μέν νυν οὐδαμῶς ἔφη λέγων ἐνορᾶν 
+38 
+
+
+BOOK V. 35-36 
+
+
+that at that very time there came from Susa 
+Histiaeus messenger, the man with the marked 
+head, signifying that Aristagoras should revolt from 
+the king. For Histiaeus desired to signify to Arista- 
+goras that he should revolt; and having no other 
+safe way of so doing (for the roads were guarded) he 
+shaved and pricked marks on the head of his trustiest 
+slave, and waited till the hair grew again ; as soon as it 
+was grown, he sent the man to Miletus with no other 
+message save that when he came to Miletus he must 
+bid Aristagoras shave his hair and examine his head, 
+The writing pricked thereon signified revolt, as I 
+have already said. This Histiaeus did, because he 
+sorely misliked his enforced sojourn at Susa; now he 
+had a good hope that if there were a revolt he would 
+be sent away to the sea-coast; but if Miletus re- 
+mained at peace, he reckoned that he would return 
+thither no more. 
+
+36. With this intent, then, Histiaeus sent his 
+messenger, and it chanced that all these things 
+came upon Aristagoras at one and the same time. 
+He took counsel therefore with those of his faction, 
+and declared his own opinion and what had come to 
+him from Histiaeus. All the rest spoke their minds 
+to the same effect, favouring revolt, save only Heca- 
+taeus the historian ; he advised them that they would 
+be best guided not to make war on the king of 
+Persia, recounting to them the tale of the nations 
+subject to Darius, and all his power. But when 
+they would not be persuaded by him, he counselled 
+them that their next best plan was to make them- 
+selves masters of the seas. This, said he in his 
+
+
+39 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐσόμενον τοῦτο" ἐπίστασθαι γὰρ τὴν δύναμιν τῶν 
+Μιλησίων ἐοῦσαν ἀσθενέα: εἰ δὲ τὰ χρήματα 
+καταιρεθείη τὰ ἐκ τοῦ ἱροῦ τοῦ ἐν Βραγχίδῃσι, 
+τὰ Κροῖσος ὁ Λυδὸς ἀνέθηκε, πολλὰς εἶχε ἐλπίδας 
+ἐπικρατήσειν τῆς θαλάσσης, καὶ οὕτω αὐτούς τε 
+ἕξειν τοῖσι χρήμασι κο καὶ τοὺς πολεμίους 
+οὐ συλήσειν αὐτά. τὰ δὲ χρήματα ἦν ταῦτα 
+μεγάλα, ὡς δεδήλωταί. μοι ἐν τῷ πρώτῳ τῶν 
+λόγων. αὕτη μὲν δὴ οὐκ ἐνίκα ἡ γνώµη, ἐδόκεε 
+δὲ ὅμως ἀπίστασθαι, ἕ ἕνα τε αὐτῶν πλώσαντα ἐς 
+Μυοῦντα ἐς τὸ στρατόπεδον τὸ ἀπὸ τῆς Νάξου 
+ἀπελθόν, ἐὸν ἐνθαῦτα, συλλαμβάνειν πειρᾶσθαι 
+τοὺς ἐπὶ τῶν νεῶν ἐπιπλέοντας στρατηγούς. 
+
+37. ᾿Αποπεμϕθέντος δὲ Ἰητραγόρεω κατ᾽ αὐτὸ 
+τοῦτο καὶ συλλαβόντος δόλῳ ᾿Ὀλίατον Ἰβανώλ- 
+λιος Μυλασσέα καὶ Ἱστιαῖον Τύμνεω Τερμερέα 
+καὶ Κώην ᾿Ερξάνδρου, τῷ Δαρεῖος Μυτιλήνην 
+ἐδωρήσατο, καὶ ᾿Αρισταγόρην Ἡρακλείδεω Kv- 
+patov καὶ ἄλλους συχνούς, οὕτω én ἐκ τοῦ enpa- 
+νέος ὁ ᾿Αρισταγόρης ἀπεστήκεε, πᾶν ἐπὶ Δαρείῳ 
+μηχανώμενος. καὶ πρῶτα μὲν λόγῳ μετεὶς τὴν 
+τυραννίδα ἰσονομίην ἐποίεε τῇ Μιλήτῳ, ὡς ἂν 
+ἑκόντες αὐτῷ οἱ Μιλήσιοι συναπισταίατο, μετὰ 
+δὲ καὶ ἐν τῇ ἄλλῃ Ἰωνίῃ τὠυτὸ τοῦτο ἐποίεε, 
+τοὺς μὲν ἐξελαύνων τῶν τυράννων, τοὺς Ò ἔλαβε 
+τυράννους ἀπὸ τῶν νεῶν τῶν συμπλευσασέων ἐπὶ 
+Νάξον, τούτους δὲ φίλα Βουλόμενος ποιέεσθαι 
+τῇσι πόλισι ἐξεδίδου, ἄλλον ἐς ἄλλην πόλιν 
+παραδιδούς, ὅθεν εἴη ἕκαστος. 
+
+38. Κώην μέν νυν M υτιληναῖοι ἐπείτε τάχιστα 
+παρέλαβον, ἐξαγαγόντες κατέλευσαν, Κυμαῖοι δὲ 
+τὸν σφέτερον αὐτῶν ἀπῆκαν' ὣς δὲ καὶ ἄλλοι οἱ 
+
+
+49 
+
+
+BOOK V. 36-38 
+
+
+speech, he could see no way of accomplishing save 
+one : Miletus, he knew, was a city of no great wealth ; 
+but if they took away from the temple at Branchidae ! 
+the treasure which Croesus the Lydian had dedicated 
+there, he had good hope that they would gain the 
+mastery of the sea, and so they would have the use 
+of that treasure and their enemies could not plunder 
+it. The treasure was very great, as I have shown in 
+the first book of my history. This counsel was not 
+approved; nevertheless, they resolved that they 
+would revolt, and that one of themselves should 
+sail to Myus, to the army which had left Naxos 
+and was there, and essay to seize the generals who 
+were aboard the ships. 
+
+37. Iatragoras, being sent for this very purpose, 
+craftily seized Oliatus of Mylasa son of Ibanollis, and 
+Histiaeus of Termera son of Tymnes, and Coes son 
+of Erxandrus,—to whom Darius gave Mytilene,—and 
+Aristagoras of Cyme, son of Heraclides, and many 
+others besides; which done, Aristagoras revolted 
+openly, devising all he could to Darius' hurt. And 
+first he made a pretence of giving up his despotism 
+and gave Miletus equality of government, that so the 
+Milesians might readily join in his revolt ; then he 
+did likewise in the rest of Ionia ; some of the despots 
+he banished ; as for those despots whom he had taken 
+out of the ships that sailed with him against Naxos, 
+he gave them over and delivered them each and all 
+to their own cities severally, for he wished to please 
+the cities. 
+
+38. So Coes, when the Mytilenaeans received him, 
+was taken out by them and stoned ; but the Cymaeans 
+let their own man go, and so did most of the others. 
+
+
+1 Cp. I. 46. 
+41 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+πλεῦνες ἀπίεσαν. τυράννων μέν νυν κατάπαυσις 
+ἐγίνετο ἀνὰ τὰς πόλιας, ᾿Αρισταγόρης δὲ ὁ Μιλή- 
+σιος ὡς τοὺς τυράννους κατέπαυσε, στρατηγοὺς 
+ἐν ἑκάστῃ τῶν πολίων κελεύσας ἑκάστους KaTa- 
+στῆσαι, δεύτερα αὐτὸς ἐς Λακεδαίμονα τριήρεϊ 
+ἀπόστολος ἐγίνετο' ἔδεε γὰρ δὴ συμμαχίης τινός 
+οἱ μεγάλης ἐξευρεθῆναι. 
+
+39. Τῆς δὲ Σπάρτης ᾿Αναξανδρίδης μὲν ὁ Λέον- 
+τος οὐκέτι περιεὼν ἐβασίλευε ἀλλὰ ἐτετελευτήκεε, 
+Κλεομένης δὲ ὁ ᾿Αναξανδρίδεω εἶχε τὴν Bac wi, 
+οὐ κατ᾽ ἀνδραγαθίην σχὼν ἀλλὰ κατὰ γένος. 
+᾿Αναξανδρίδῃ γὰρ ἔχοντι γυναῖκα ἀδελφεῆς ἑ έωυ- 
+τοῦ θυγατέρα, καὶ ἐούσης ταύτης οἱ καταθυμίης, 
+παῖδες οὐκ ἐγίνοντο. τούτου δὲ τοιούτου ἐόντος, 
+οἱ ἔφοροι εἶπαν ἐπικαλεσάμενοι αὐτὸν “ Εἴ τοι σὺ 
+σεωυτοῦ μὴ προορᾷς, ἀλλ, ἡμῖν τοῦτ᾽ ἐστὶ οὐ 
+περιοπτέον, γένος τὸ Εὐρυσθένεος γενέσθαι, ἐξίτη- 
+Xov. σύ νυν τὴν μὲν ἔχεις γυναῖκα, ἐπείτε τοι 
+oU τίκτει, ἔξεο, ἄλλην δὲ γῆμον' καὶ ποιέων ταῦτα 
+Σπαρτιήτῃσι ἁδήσεις." ὃ Ò ἀμείβετο φὰς τούτων 
+οὐδέτερα ποιήσειν, ἐκείνους τε οὐ καλῶς συμβου- 
+λεύειν παραινέοντας, τὴν ἔχει γυναῖκα ἐοῦσαν 
+ἀναμάρτητον ἑωυτῷ, ταύτην ἀπέντα ἄλλην ἐσαγα- 
+γέσθαι' οὐδέ σφι πείσεσθαι. 
+
+40. Πρὸς ταῦτα οἱ ἔφοροι καὶ οἱ γέροντες Bov- 
+λευσάμενοι προσέφερον ᾿Αναξανδρίδῃ τάδε. “ ᾿Επεὶ 
+τοίνυν τοι περιεχόμενόν σε ὁρῶμεν τῆς ἔχεις 
+γυναικός, σὺ δὲ ταῦτα ποίεε, καὶ μὴ ἀντίβαινε 
+τούτοισι, ἵνα μή τι ἀλλοῖον περὶ σεῦ Σπαρτιῆται 
+βουλεύσωνται" γυναικὸς μὲν τῆς ἔχεις οὐ προσ- 
+δεόμεθά σευ τῆς ἐξέσιος, σὺ δὲ ταύτῃ τε πάντα 
+
+
+42 
+
+
+BOOK V. 38-40 
+
+
+Thus an end was made of despots in the cities. 
+Aristagoras of Miletus, having made an end of the 
+despots, bade all to set up governors in each city ; 
+and next he went on an embassy in a trireme to 
+Lacedaemon ; for it was needful that he should find 
+some strong ally.! 
+
+39. At Sparta, Anaxandrides the son of Leon, 
+who had been king, was now no longer alive but was 
+dead, and Cleomenes son of Anaxandrides held the 
+royal power. This he had won not by manly merit 
+but by right of birth. For Anaxandrides had to 
+wife his own sisters daughter, and he was well 
+content with her; but no children were born to 
+him. This being so, the Ephors called him to them, 
+and said, * If you care not to provide for yourself, 
+yet we cannot suffer it to come to pass that the 
+house of Eurysthenes should perish. Do you there- 
+fore send away the wife that you have, seeing that 
+she bears you no children, and wed another; this do, 
+and you will please the Spartans.” But Anaxan- 
+drides answered and said that he would do neither 
+the one nor the other: “ And you,” said he, “ are no 
+good counsellors, when you bid me send away the 
+wife that I have, who is void of offence against me, 
+and take another to my house; I will not consent 
+to it.” 
+
+40. Then the Ephors and Elders took counsel, 
+and laid this proposal before Anaxandrides : “Seeing 
+then that you cleave, as we see, to the wife that you 
+have, do this our command, and stand not out against 
+it, lest the Spartans find some new way of dealing 
+with you. As for the wife that you have, we ask 
+not that you should send her away; rather, give her 
+
+
+1 Aristagoras went to Lacedaemon in 499, 
+
+
+43 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὅσα νῦν παρέχεις πάρεχε καὶ ἄλλην πρὸς ταύτῃ 
+ἐσάγαγε γυναῖκα τεκνοποιόν.᾽ ταῦτά Kn λεγόντων 
+συνεχώρησε ὁ ᾿Αναξανδρίδης, μετὰ, δὲ γυναῖκας 
+ἔχων δύο διξὰς ἱστίας οἴκεε, ποιέων οὐδαμῶς 
+Σπαρτιητικά. 
+
+4]. Χρόνου δὲ οὐ πολλοῦ διελθόντος ἡ ἐσύστε- 
+ρον ἐπελθοῦσα γυνὴ τίκτει τὸν δὴ Κλεομένεα τοῦ- 
+τον. καὶ αὕτη. τε ἔπεδρον βασιλέα Σπαρτιήτῃσι 
+ἀπέφαινε, καὶ ἡ ἡ προτέρη γυνὴ τὸν πρότερον χρό- 
+vov ἄτοκος ἐοῦσα τότε κως ἐκύησε, συντυχίῃ 
+ταύτῃ ρησαμένη. ἔχουσαν δὲ αὐτὴν ἆληθει 
+λόγῳ οἱ τῆς ἐπελθούσης γυναικὸς οἰκήιοι πυθό- 
+μενοι ὤχλεον, φάμενοι αὐτὴν κομπέειν ἄλλως 
+βουλομένην ὑποβαλέσθαι. δεινὰ δὲ ποιεύντων 
+αὐτῶν, τοῦ χρόνου συντάμνοντος, ὑπ᾽ ἀπιστίης 
+οἱ ἔφοροι τίκτουσαν τὴν γυναῖκα περιιζόµενοι 
+ἐφύλαξαν. ἢ δὲ ὡς ἔτεκε Δωριέα ἰθέως ἴσχει 
+Λεωνίδην, καὶ μετὰ τοῦτον ἰθέως ἴ ἴσχει, Κλεόμ- 
+βροτον' οἳ δὲ καὶ διδύμους λέγουσι Κλεόμβροτον 
+καὶ Λεωνίδην γενέσθαι. Ù δὲ Κλεομένεα τεκοῦσα 
+καὶ τὸ δεύτερον. ἐπελθοῦσα γυνή, ἐοῦσα θυγάτηρ 
+Πρινητάδεω τοῦ Δημαρμένου, οὐκέτι ἔτικτε τὸ 
+ον. 
+
+ʻO μὲν δὴ Κλεομένης, ὡς λέγεται, ἦν τε οὐ 
+lin ἀκρομανής τε, ὁ δὲ Δωριεὺς ἦν τῶν 
+ἡλίκων πάντων πρῶτος, εὖ τε ἐπίστατο κατ᾽ 
+ἀνδραγαθίην αὐτὸς σχήσων τὴν βασιληίην. ὥστε 
+ὧν οὕτω ρονέων, ἐπειδὴ ὅ τε ᾿Αναξανδρίδης ám- 
+έθανε καὶ οἱ Λακεδαιμόνιοι χρεώμενοι τῷ νόμῳ 
+ἐστήσαντο βασιλέα τὸν πρεσβύτατον Κλεομένεα, 
+ὁ Δωριεὺς δεινόν τε ποιεύμενος καὶ οὐκ ἀξιῶν 
+ὑπὸ Κλεομένεος βασιλεύεσθαι, αἰτήσας λεὼν 
+
+
+44 
+
+
+BOOK V. 40-42 
+
+
+all that you give her now, and marry another woman 
+besides who can give you children." So they spoke, 
+and Anaxandrides consented ; and presently he had 
+two wives and kept two households, a thing in nowise 
+customary at Sparta. 
+
+4l. After no long time the second wife gave birth 
+to the Cleomenes afore-mentioned. So she gave the 
+Spartans an heir to the royal power ; and (as luck 
+would have it) the first wife, having hitherto been 
+barren, did at that very time conceive. She being 
+verily with child, the friends of the later wife learnt 
+of it and began to trouble her; for, they said, she 
+was making a vain boast, that she might substitute a 
+child ; and as they were angry, and her time drew 
+nigh, the Ephors would not believe her and sat 
+round to watch her in childbirth ; and she gave birth 
+first to Dorieus, then straightway bore Leonidas, 
+and straightway after him Cleombrotus; though 
+some say that Cleombrotus and Leonidas were twins. 
+But the later wife, Cleomenes' mother (she was the 
+daughter of Prinetadas son of Demarmenus), bore no 
+more children. 
+
+42. Now Cleomenes, as the story goes, was not in 
+his right senses, but crazy; but Dorieus was first 
+among all of like age with himself; and he fully 
+believed that he would be made king for his manly 
+worth. Being thus minded, when at Anaxandrides' 
+death the Lacedaemonians followed their custom and 
+made Cleomenes king by right of age, Dorieus was 
+very angry and would not brook to be subject to 
+Cleomenes; and he asked the Spartans for a com- 
+
+45 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Σπαρτιήτας ἢ ἦγε ἐς ἀποικίην, οὔτε τῷ ἐν Δελφοῖσι 
+χρηστηρίῳ χρησάμενος ἐς ἥντινα γῆν κτίσων ἴῃ, 
+οὔτε ποιήσας οὐδὲν τῶν .νομιξομένων" οἷα δὲ 
+βαρέως φέρων, ἀπίει ἐς τὴν Λιβύην τὰ πλοῖα: 
+κατηγέοντο δέ οἱ ἄνδρες Θηραῖοι. ἀπικόμενος δὲ 
+ἐς Λιβύην οἴκισε χῶρον κάλλιστον τῶν Λιβύων 
+παρὰ Κίνυπα ποταμόν. ἐξελασθεὶς δὲ ἐνθεῦτεν 
+τρίτῳ ἔτεϊ, ὑπὸ Μακέων τε Λιβύων καὶ Καρχη- 
+δονίων ἀπίκετο ἐς Πελοπόννησον. 
+
+45. ᾿Ενθαῦτα δέ οἱ ᾿Αντιχάρης ἀνὴρ ᾿Ελεώνιος 
+συνεβούλευσε ἐ ἐκ τῶν Λαΐου χρησμῶν Ἡρακλείην 
+τὴν ἐν Σικελίῃ κτίζειν, φὰς τὴν Ἔρυκος χώρην 
+πᾶσαν εἶναι Ἡρακλειδέων αὐτοῦ “Ἡρακλέος KTN- 
+σαμένου. ὃ δὲ ἀκούσας ταῦτα ἐς Δελφοὺς οἴχετο 
+χρησόμενος τῷ χρηστηρίῳ, εἰ αἱρέει ἐπ᾿ ἣν στέλ- 
+λεται χώρην" ἡ δὲ Πυθίη οἱ χρᾷ αἱρήσειν. 
+παραλαβὼν δὲ Δωριεὺς τὸν στόλον τὸν καὶ ἐς 
+Λιβύην ἦγε, ἐκομίξετο παρὰ τὴν Ἰταλίην. 
+
+44. Τὸν χρόνον δὲ τοῦτον, ὡς λέγουσι Συβα- 
+ρῖται, σφέας τε αὐτοὺς καὶ Τῆλυν τὸν ἑωυτῶν 
+Βασιλέα ἐπὶ Κρότωνα μέλλειν στρατεύεσθαι, 
+τοὺς δὲ Κροτωνιήτας περιδεέας γενομένους cenl ñ- 
+ναι Δωριέος σφίσι τιμωρῆσαι καὶ τυχεῖν δεηθέν- 
+Tas" συστρατεύεσθαί τε δὴ ἐπὶ Σύβαριν Δωριέα 
+καὶ συνελεῖν τὴν Σύβαριν. ταῦτα μέν νυν Συβα- 
+pira λέγουσι ποιῆσαι Δωριέα τε καὶ τοὺς μετ᾽ 
+αὐτοῦ, Κροτωνιῆται δὲ οὐδένα σφίσι φασὶ ξεῖνον 
+προσεπιλαβέσθαι τοῦ πρὸς Συβαρίτας πολέμου 
+εὖ μὴ Καλλίην τῶν Ἰαμιδέων μάντιν ᾿Ηλεῖον 
+μοῦνον, καὶ τοῦτον τρόπῳ τοιῷδε' παρὰ Τήλυος 
+τοῦ Συβαριτέων τυράννου ἀποδράντα ἀπικέσθαι 
+
+
+! In Boeotia, near Tanagra. 
+
+
+46 
+
+
+BOOK V. 42-44 
+
+
+pany of folk, whom he took away as colonists; he 
+neither enquired of the oracle at Delphi in what 
+land he should plant his settlement, nor did aught 
+else that was customary; but he set sail in great 
+wrath for Libya, with men of Thera to guide him. 
+Thither he came, and settled by the Cinyps river, in 
+the fairest part of Libya; but in the third year he 
+was driven out by the Macae and Libyans and 
+Carchedonians, and returned to Peloponnesus. 
+
+43. There Antichares, a man of Eleon,! counselled 
+him to plant a colony at Heraclea in Sicily, according 
+to the word of one of Laius’ oracles ; for Heracles ὃ 
+himself (said Antichares) had won all the region of 
+Eryx, and it belonged to his descendants. When 
+Dorieus heard that, he went away to Delphi to 
+enquire of the oracle if he should win the place 
+whither he was preparing to go; and the priestess 
+telling him that so it should be, he took with him the 
+company that he had led to Libya, and went to Italy. 
+
+44. Now at this time,’ as the Sybarites say, they 
+and their king Telys were making ready to march 
+against Croton, and the men of Croton, being greatly 
+affrighted, entreated Dorieus to come to their aid ; 
+their request was granted; Dorieus marched with 
+them to Sybaris and helped them to take it. Such 
+is the story which the Sybarites tell of Dorieus and 
+his companions; but the Crotoniats say that they 
+were aided by no stranger in their war with Sybaris 
+save only by Callias, an Elean diviner of the Iamid 
+clan; of whom the story was that he had fled to 
+Croton from Telys, the despot of Sybaris, because 
+
+
+2 The reference appears to be to a cult of the Phoenician 
+Melkart (identified with Heracles) on Mt. Eryx. 
+* About 510. 
+
+
+47 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+παρὰ σφέας, ἐπείτε οἱ τὰ ἱρὰ οὐ προεχώρεε 
+χρηστὰ θυομένῳ ἐπὶ Κρότωνα. 
+
+45. Ταῦτα δὲ οὗτοι λέγουσι. μαρτύρια δὲ τού- 
+των ἑκάτεροι ἀποδεικνύουσι τάδε, Συβαρῖται μὲν 
+τέμενός τε καὶ νηὸν ἐόντα παρὰ τὸν ξηρὸν Κρᾶθιν, 
+τὸν ἱδρύσασθαι συνελόντα τὴν πόλιν Δωριέα 
+λέγουσι ᾿Αθηναίῃ ἐπωνύμῳ Κραθίγ' τοῦτο δὲ 
+αὐτοῦ Δωριέος τὸν θάνατον μαρτύριον μέγιστον 
+ποιεῦνται, ὅτι παρὰ τὰ μεμαντευμένα ποιέων 
+διεφθάρη" εἰ γὰρ δὴ μὴ παρέπρηξε μηδέν, ἐπ᾽ ὃ 
+δὲ -ἐστάλη ἐποίεε, εἷλε ἂν τὴν ᾿Ερυκίνην χώρην 
+καὶ ἑλὼν κατέσχε, οὐδ᾽ ἂν αὐτός τε καὶ ἡ στρατιὴ 
+διεφθάρη. οἱ Ò αὖ Κροτωνιῆται ἀποδεικνῦσι 
+Καλλίῃ μὲν τῷ ᾿Ηλείῳ ἐξαίρετα è ἐν γῇ τῇ Κροτω- 
+νιήτιδι πολλὰ δοθέντα, τὰ καὶ ἐς ἐμὲ ἔτι ἐνέμοντο 
+οἱ Καλλίεω ἆ ἀπόγονοι, Δωριέι δὲ καὶ τοῖσι Δωριέος 
+ἀπογόνοισι οὐδέν. Kaito εἰ συνεπελάβετό γε τοῦ 
+Συβαριτικοῦ πολέμου Δωριεύς, δοθῆναι ἄν οἱ 
+πολλαπλήσια ἢ Καλλίῃ. ταῦτα μέν νυν ἑκάτεροι. 
+αὐτῶν μαρτύρια ἀποφαίνονται, καὶ πάρεστι, ôro- 
+τέροισί τις πείθεται αὐτῶν, τούτοισι προσχωρέειν. 
+
+46. Συνέπλεον δὲ Δωριέι καὶ ἄλλοι συγκτίσται 
+Σπαρτιητέων, Θεσσαλὸς καὶ Παραιβάτης καὶ 
+Κελέης καὶ Εὐρυλέων" οἳ ἐπείτε ἀπίκοντο παντὶ 
+στόλῳ ἐς τὴν Σικελύην, ἀπέθανον μάχῃ ἐσσωθέν- 
+τες ὑπό τε Φοινίκων καὶ ᾿Εγεσταίων' μοῦνος δὲ 
+Εὐρυλέων τῶν συγκτιστέων περιεγένετο τούτου 
+τοῦ πάθεος. συλλαβὼν δὲ οὗτος τῆς στρατιῆς 
+τοὺς περιγενοµένο υς ἔσχε Μινώην τὴν Σελινουσίων 
+ἀποικίην, καὶ συνελευθέρου Σελινουσίους τοῦ 
+μουνάρχου Πειθαγόρεω. μετὰ δὲ ὡς τοῦτον 
+κατεῖλε, αὐτὸς τυραννίδι ἐπεχείρησε Σελινοῦντος 
+48 
+
+
+BOOK V. 44-46 
+
+
+when he was sacrificing for victory over Croton he 
+could get no favourable omens. 
+
+45. This is their tale. Both cities bring proof of 
+the truth of what they say: the Sybarites show a 
+precinct and a temple beside the dry bed of the 
+Crathis, which, they say, Dorieus founded in honour 
+of Athene of Crathis, after he had helped to take 
+their city ; and moreover they find their strongest 
+proof in his death, because he perished in the doing 
+of more than the oracle bade him ; for had he done 
+that for which he set out and nought beyond it, he 
+would have taken and held the Erycine region, and 
+so neither he nor his army would have perished. 
+But the Crotoniats on the other hand show many 
+gifts of land in the country of Croton that were set 
+apart for Callias of Elis (on which lands Callias' 
+posterity dwelt even to my time), but no gift to 
+Dorieus and his descendants. Yet (they plead) had 
+Dorieus aided them in their war with Sybaris, he 
+would have received a reward many times greater 
+than what was given to Callias. These, then, are 
+the proofs brought by each party; we may take 
+whichever side seems to deserve most credence. 
+
+46. Other Spartans too sailed with Dorieus to 
+found his colony, namely, Thessalus, Paraebates, 
+Celees, and Euryleon. These, having come with all 
+their company to Sicily, were overcome and slain in 
+battle by the Phoenicians and Egestans,—all save 
+Euryleon, who was the only settler that survived 
+this disaster. He mustered the remnant of his 
+army and took Minoa, the colony from Selinus, and 
+aided in freeing the people of Selinus from their 
+monarch Pithagoras. Having deposed this man 
+he himself essayed to be despot of Selinus, and 
+
+
+49 
+
+
+VOL. III. E 
+
+
+ HERODOTUS 
+
+
+καὶ ἐμουνάρχησε χρόνον ἐπ᾽ ὀλίγον' οἱ γάρ μιν 
+Σελινούσιοι ἐπαναστάντες ἀπέκτειναν καταφυ- 
+γόντα ἐπὶ Διὸς ἀγοραίου βωμόν. 
+
+4T. Συνέσπετο δὲ Δωριέι καὶ συναπέθανε Φί- 
+λιππος ὁ Βουτακίδεω Κροτωνιήτης ἀνήρ, ὃς ἆρμο- 
+σάμενος Τήλυος τοῦ Συβαρίτεω θυγατέρα ἔφυγε 
+ἐκ Κρότωνος, ψευσθεὶς δὲ τοῦ γάμου οἴχετο: πλέων 
+ἐς Κυρήνην, ἐκ ταύτης. δὲ ὁρμώμενος συνέσπετο 
+οἰκηίῃ τε τριήρεϊ καὶ οἰκηίῃ ἀνδρῶν δαπάνῃ, ἐών 
+τε Ὀλυμπιονίκης καὶ κάλλιστος ᾿Ελλήνων τῶν 
+κατ᾽ ἑωυτόν. διὰ δὲ τὸ ἑωυτοῦ κάλλος ἠνείκατο 
+παρὰ ᾿Εγεσταίων τὰ οὐδεὶς ἄλλος" ἐπὶ γὰρ τοῦ 
+τάφου αὐτοῦ ἡρώιον ἱδρυσάμενοι θυσίῃσι αὐτὸν 
+ἱλάσκονται. 
+
+48. Δωριεὺς μέν νυν τρόπῳ τοιούτῳ ἐτελεύτησε" 
+ei δὲ ἡ ἠνέσχετο βασιλευόμενος ú ὑπὸ Κλεομένεος καὶ 
+κατέμενε ἐν, Σπάρτη, ἐβασίλευσε ἂν Λακεδαί- 
+μονος" οὐ γάρ τινα πολλὸν χρόνον ἠρξε ὁ Κλεο- 
+μένης, ἀλλ᾽ ἀπέθανε ἄπαις, θυγατέρα μούνην 
+λιπών, τῇ οὔνομα ἦν Γοργώ. 
+
+49. ᾿Απικνέεται δὲ ὧν ὁ A ρισταγόρης ὁ Μιλήτου 
+τύραννος ἐς τὴν Σπάρτην Κλεομένεος ἔχοντος τὴν 
+ἀρχήν" τῷ δὴ ἐς λόγους ÜLE, ὡς Λακεδαιμόνιοι 
+λέγουσι, ἔχων χάλκεον πίνακα ἐν τῷ γῆς ἁπάσης 
+περίοδος ἐνετέτμητο καὶ θάλασσά τε πᾶσα καὶ 
+ποταμοὶ πάντες. ἀπικνεόμενος δὲ ἐς λόγους ὁ 
+᾿Αρισταγόρης ἔλεγε πρὸς αὐτὸν τάδε. '  KAeó- 
+μενες, σπουδὴν μὲν τὴν ἐμὴν μὴ θωμάσῃς τῆς 
+ἐνθαῦτα ἀπίξιος: τὰ γὰρ κατήκοντα ἐστὶ τοιαῦτα' 
+Ἰώνων παῖδας δούλους εἶναι ἀντ᾽ ἐλευθέρων 
+ὄνειδος καὶ ἄλγος μέγιστον μὲν αὐτοῖσι ἡμῖν, ἔτι 
+
+
+5o 
+
+
+BOOK V. 46-49 
+
+
+was monarch there, but for a little while only ; for 
+the people of the place rose against him and slew 
+him at the altar of Zeus of the Market-place, whither 
+he had fled for refuge. 
+
+47. Another that followed Dorieus and was with 
+him slain was Philippus of Croton, son of Butacides ; 
+he had betrothed himself to the daughter of Telys 
+of Sybaris and was banished from Croton; but being 
+disappointed of his marriage he sailed away to Cyrene, 
+whence he set forth and followed Dorieus, bringing 
+his own trireme and paying all charges for his men; 
+this Philippus was a victor at Olympia and the 
+goodliest Greek of his day. For the beauty of his 
+person he received honours from the Egestans 
+accorded to none else: they built a hero’s shrine 
+by his grave, and offer him sacrifices of propitiation. 
+
+48. Such, then, was the manner of Dorieus’ death. 
+Had he endured Cleomenes’ rule and stayed at 
+Sparta, he would have been king of Lacedaemon ; 
+for Cleomenes reigned no long time, and died leaving 
+no son but one only daughter, whose name was 
+Gorgo. 
+
+49, I return to my story. It was in the reign of 
+Cleomenes that Aristagoras the despot of Miletus 
+came to Sparta; and when he had audience of the 
+king (so the Lacedaemonians say) he brought with 
+him a bronze tablet on which the map of all 
+the earth was engraved, and all the sea and all 
+the rivers. Having been admitted to converse with 
+Cleomenes, Aristagoras spoke thus to him : * Wonder 
+not, Cleomenes, that I have been so zealous to come 
+hither ; for such is our present state : that the sons of 
+the Ionians should be slaves and not free men is a 
+shame and grief to ourselves in especial, and of all 
+
+5I 
+
+
+E 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δὲ τῶν λοιπῶν ὑμῖν, ¢ ὅσῳ προέστατε τῆς Ἑλλάδος. 
+νῦν ὧν πρὸς θεῶν τῶν Ελληνίων ῥύσασθε" Ίωνας 
+ἐκ δουλοσύνης ἄνδρας ὁμαίμονας. εὐπετέως δὲ 
+ὑμῖν ταῦτα οἷά τε χωρέειν ἐστί- οὔτε γὰρ οἱ 
+βάρβαροι ἄλκιμοι εἰσί, ὑμεῖς τε τὰ ἐς τὸν πόλεμον 
+ἐς τὰ μέγιστα ἀνήκετε ἀρετῆς πέρι, ý TE μάχη 
+αὐτῶν ἐστὶ τοιήδε, τόξα καὶ αἰχμὴ βραχέα" 
+ἀναξυρίδας δὲ ἔ ἔχοντες ἔρχονται ἐς τὰς μάχας καὶ 
+κυρβασίας ἐπὶ «τῇσι κ ος οὕτω εὐπετέες 
+ειρωθῆναι εἰσί. ἔστι ὲ καὶ ἀγαθὰ τοῖσι τὴν 
+Ἵπειρον ἐκείνην νεμομένοισι ὅσα οὐδὲ τοῖσι συν- 
+άπασι ἄλλοισι, ἀπὸ χρυσοῦ ἀρξαμένοισι, ἄ ἄργυρος 
+καὶ χαλκὸς καὶ ἐσθὴς ποικίλη καὶ ὑποξύγιά τε 
+καὶ ἀνδράποδα: τὰ θυμῷ βουλόμενοι αὐτοὶ ἂν 
+ἔχοιτε. κατοίκηνται δὲ ἀλλήλων ἐχόμενοι. ὡς ἐγὼ 
+φράσω, Ιώνων μὲν τῶνδε οἵδε Λυδοί, οἰκέοντές 
+τε χώρην ἀγαθὴν καὶ πολυαργυρώτατοι ἐόντες.” 
+δεικνὺς δὲ ἔλεγε ταῦτα ἐς τῆς γῆς, τὴν περίοδον, 
+ν ἐφέρετο ἐν τῷ πίνακι ἐντετμημένην. “ Λυδῶν 
+ἔφη λέγων o ᾿Αρισταγόρης ** οἵδε ἔχονται 
+cS oí πρὸς τὴν ἠῶ, πολυπροβατώτατοί τε 
+ἐόντες πάντων τῶν ἐγὼ οἶδα καὶ πολυκαρπότατοι. 
+Φρυγῶν δὲ ἔχονται Καππαδόκαι, τοὺς ἡμεῖς 
+Συρίους καλέομεν. τούτοισι δὲ πρόσουροι Κίλικες, 
+κατήκοντες ἐπὶ θάλασσαν τήνδε, ἐν τῇ ἧδε Κύπρος 
+νῆσος κέεται' of πεντακόσια τάλαντα βασιλέι τὸν 
+ἐπέτειον φόρον ἐπιτελεῦσι. Κιλίκων δὲ τῶνδε 
+ἔχονται ᾿Αρμένιοι οἶδε, καὶ οὗτοι ἐόντες πολυπρό- 
+Baro, ᾿Αρμενίων δὲ Ματιηνοὶ χώρην τήνδε ἔ ἔχον- 
+τες. ἔχεται δὲ τούτων γῆ ἥδε Κισσίη, é ἐν τῇ δὴ 
+παρὰ ποταμὸν τόνδε Χοάσπην κείμενα ἐστὶ τὰ 
+Σοῦσα ταῦτα, ἔνθα βασιλεύς τε μέγας δίαιταν 
+
+
+52 
+
+
+BOOK V. 49 
+
+
+others to you, inasmuch as you are the leaders of 
+Hellas. Now, therefore, we beseech you by the 
+gods of Hellas, save your Ionian kinsmen from 
+slavery. This is a thing that you may easily achieve ; 
+for the strangers are no valiant men, and your valour 
+in war is preéminent. And for their fashion of 
+fighting, they carry bows and short spears; and they 
+go to battle with breeches on their legs and tur- 
+bans on their heads; so they are easy to overcome. 
+Further, the dwellers in that continent have more 
+good things than all other men together, gold first, 
+and silver too and bronze and coloured raiment and 
+beasts of burden and slaves; all this you can have at 
+your heart's desire. And the lands wherein they 
+dwell lie next to each other, as I shall show you :— 
+here are the Ionians, and here the Lydians, who 
+inhabit a good land and have great store of silver” 
+(showing as he spoke the map of the earth which he 
+had brought engraved on the tablet), “and next to 
+the Lydians " (said Aristagoras in his speech) “ you 
+see the Phrygians, to the east, men that of all known 
+to me are the richest in flocks and in the earth's 
+produce. Close by them are the Cappadocians, whom 
+we call Syrians ; and their neighbours are the Cilicians, 
+whose land reaches to the sea yonder, wherein you 
+see the island of Cyprus lying; the yearly tribute 
+which they pay to the king is five hundred talents. 
+Next to the Cilicians, here are the Armenians, 
+another people rich in flocks, and after the Arme- 
+nians the Matieni, whose country I show you ; and 
+you see the Cissian land adjoining theirs; therein, 
+on the Choaspes (yonder it is), lies that Susa where 
+lives the great king, and there are the storehouses of 
+
+
+53 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ποιέεται, καὶ τῶν χρημάτων οἱ θησαυροὶ ἐνθαῦτα 
+εἰσί" ἑλόντες δὲ ταύτην τὴν πόλιν θαρσέοντες ἤδη 
+τῷ Ad πλούτου πέρι ἐρίξετε. ἀλλὰ περὶ μὲν 
+χώρης ἄρα οὐ πολλῆς οὐδὲ οὕτω χρηστῆς καὶ 
+οὔρων σμικρῶν χρεὸν ἐστι ὑμέας μάχας ἀναβάλ- 
+λεσθαι πρός τε Μεσσηνίους ἐόντας ἰσοπαλέας καὶ 
+᾿Αρκάδας τε καὶ ᾿Αργείους, τοῖσι οὔτε χρυσοῦ 
+ἐχόμενον ἐστὶ οὐδὲν οὔτε ἀργύρου, τῶν πέρι καί 
+τινα ἐνάγει προθυμίη μαχόμενον ἀποθνήσκειν' 
+παρέχον δὲ τῆς ᾿Ασίης πάσης ἄρχειν εὐπετέως, 
+ἄλλο τι αἱρήσεσθε; ᾿Αρισταγόρης μὲν ταῦτα 
+ἔλεξε, Κλεομένης δὲ ἀμείβετο τοῖσιδε. “O ξεῖνε 
+Μιλήσιε, ἀναβάλλομαί τοι ἐς τρίτην ἡμέρην 
+ὑποκρινέεσθαι.” 
+
+50. Τότε μὲν ἐς τοσοῦτον ἤλασαν' ἐπείτε δὲ ἡ 
+κυρίη ἡμέρη ἐγένετο τῆς ὑποκρίσιος καὶ ἦλθον ἐς 
+τὸ συγκείμενον, εἴρετο ὁ Κλεομένης τὸν ᾿Αριστα- 
+γόρην ὁκοσέων ἡμερέων ἀπὸ θαλάσσης τῆς ᾿Ιώνων 
+ὁδὸς εἴη παρὰ βασιλέα. ὁ δὲ Αρισταγόρης τἆλλα 
+ἐὼν σοφὸς καὶ διαβάλλων ἐκεῖνον ed ἐν τούτῳ 
+, ΄ \ ΄ 1 -/ S» i 
+ἐσφάλη" χρεὸν γάρ μιν μὴ λέγειν τὸ ἐόν, βουλό- 
+μενόν ye Σπαρτιήτας ἐξαγαγεῖν ἐς τὴν ᾿Ασίην, 
+λέγει δ᾽ ὧν τριῶν μηνῶν φὰς εἶναι τὴν ἄνοδον. ὃ 
+δὲ ὑπαρπάσας τὸν ἐπίλοιπον λόγον τὸν ὁ ‘Apt- 
+σταγόρης ὥρμητο λέγειν περὶ τῆς ὁδοῦ, εἶπε “COQ 
+ξεῖνε Μιλήσιε, ἀπαλλάσσεο ἐκ Σπάρτης πρὸ 
+δύντος ἡλίου' οὐδένα γὰρ λόγον εὐεπέα λέγεις 
+Λακεδαιμονίοισι, ἐθέλων σφέας ἀπὸ θαλάσσης 
+τριῶν μηνῶν ὁδὸν ἀγαγεῖν." 
+
+51. Ὁ μὲν δὴ Κλεομένης ταῦτα εἴπας tue ἐς τὰ 
+οἰκία, 0 δὲ ᾿Αρισταγόρης λαβὼν ἱκετηρίην Tie ἐς 
+τοῦ Κλεομένεος, ἐσελθὼν δὲ ἔσω ἅτε ἱκετεύων 
+54 
+
+
+BOOK V. 49-51 
+
+
+his wealth ; take that city, and then you need not fear 
+to challenge Zeus for riches. What! you must needs 
+then fight for straitened strips of land of no great 
+worth—fight for that with Messenians, who are as 
+strong as you, and Arcadians and Argives, men that 
+have nought in the way of gold or silver, for which 
+things many are spurred by zeal to fight and die: 
+yet when you can readily be masters of all Asia, will 
+you refuse to essay it?" Thus spoke Aristagoras. 
+Cleomenes replied: * Milesian, my guest, wait till - 
+the third day for my answer." 
+
+50. Thus far they advanced at that hearing. But 
+when on the day appointed for the answer they came 
+to the place whereon they had agreed, Cleomenes 
+asked Aristagoras how many days' journey it was 
+from the Ionian sea to the king. Till now, Arista- 
+goras had been cunning and fooled the Spartan right 
+well; but here he made a false step ; for if he desired 
+to bring the Spartans away into Asia he should never 
+have told the truth ; but he did tell it, and said that 
+it was a three months' journey inland. At that, 
+Cleomenes cut short all the rest that Aristagoras 
+began to tell him about the journey, and bade his 
+Milesian guest depart from Sparta before sunset; 
+for never (he said) would the Lacedaemonians listen 
+to the plan, if Aristagoras desired to lead them a 
+three months' journey from the sea. 
+
+51. Having thus spoken Cleomenes went to his 
+house; but Aristagoras took a suppliant's garb and 
+followed him thither, and entering in he used a 
+
+
+55 
+
+
+HERODOTUS. 
+
+
+ἐπακοῦσαι ἐκέλευε τὸν Κλεομένεα ἀποπέμψαντα 
+τὸ παιδίον" “προσεστήκεε γὰρ δὴ τῷ Κλεομένεϊ ἡ 
+θυγάτηρ, τῇ οὔνομα ἦν Γοργώ", τοῦτο δέ οἱ καὶ 
+μοῦνον τέκνον ἐτύγχανε ἐὸν ἐτέων ὀκτὼ ἢ ἐννέα 
+ἡλικίην. Κλεομένης δὲ λέγειν μιν ἐκέλευε τὰ 
+βούλεται μηδὲ ἐπισχεῖν τοῦ παιδίου εἵνεκα. 
+ἐνθαῦτα δὴ ὁ ᾿Αρισταγόρης ἄρχετο ἐκ δέκα 
+ταλάντων ὑπισχνεόμενος, ἦν οἱ ἐπιτελέση. τῶν 
+ἐδέετο. ἀνανεύοντος δὲ τοῦ Κλεομένεος προέβαινε 
+τοῖσι χρήμασι ὑπερβάλλων ὁ ο ᾿Αρισταγόρης, ἐς οὗ 
+πεντήκοντά τε τάλαντα ὑπεδέδεκτο καὶ τὸ παιδίον 
+ηὐδάξατο « Πάτερ, δ) KX σε ὁ ξεῖνος, ἦν μὴ 
+ἀποστὰς ἴῃς. ὅ τε / Κλεομένης ᾿ἡσθεὶς τοῦ 
+παιδίου τῇ παραινέσι ne ἐς ἕτερον οἴκημα, καὶ ὁ 
+᾿Αρισταγόρης ἀπαλλάσσετο τὸ παράπαν ἐκ τῆς 
+Σπάρτης, οὐδέ οἱ ἐξεγένετο ἐ ἐπὶ πλέον ἔτι σημῆναι 
+περὶ τῆς ἀνόδου τῆς παρὰ βασιλέα. 
+
+52. Ἔχει γὰρ ἀμφὶ τῇ ὁδῷ ταύτῃ ὧδε" σταθμοί 
+τε πανταχῇ εἰσι βασιλήιοι καὶ καταλύσιες κάλ- 
+λισται, διὰ οἰκεομένης τε ἡ ὁδὸς ἅπασα καὶ 
+ἀσφαλέος. διὰ μέν ye. Λυδίης καὶ Φρυγίης 
+σταθ μοὶ τείνοντες εἴκοσι εἰσί, παρασάγγαι δὲ 
+τέσσερες καὶ ἐνενήκοντα καὶ ἥμισυ. ἐκδέκεται δὲ 
+ἐκ τῆς Φρυγίης ὁ 0 " AXus ποταμός, ἐπ᾽ ᾧ πύλαι τε 
+ἔπεισι, τὰς «διεξελάσαι πᾶσα ἀνάγκη καὶ οὕτω 
+διεκπερᾶν τὸν ποταμόν, καὶ φυλακτήριον μέγα em 
+αὐτῷ. διαβάντι δὲ ἐς τὴν Καππαδοκίην καὶ 
+ταύτῃ πορευομένῳ μέχρι οὔρων τῶν Κιλικίων 
+σταθμοὶ δυῶν δέοντες εἰσὶ τριήκοντα, παρασάγγαι 
+δὲ τέσσερες καὶ ἑκατόν. ἐπὶ δὲ τοῖσι τούτων 
+οὔροισι διξάς τε πύλας διεξελᾶς καὶ διξὰ φυλα- 
+
+
+56 
+
+
+BOOK V. 51-52 
+
+
+suppliant's right to beseech Cleomenes to hear him, 
+but first send the child away; for Cleomenes' 
+daughter, whose name was Gorgo, was standing by 
+him ; she was his only child, and was about eight 
+or nine years of age. Cleomenes bade him say what 
+he would and not let the child's presence hinder him. 
+Then Aristagoras began to promise Cleomenes from 
+ten talents upwards, if he would grant his request. 
+Cleomenes refusing, Aristagoras offered him ever 
+more and yet more, till when he promised fifty 
+talents the child cried out, * Father, the stranger will 
+corrupt you, unless you leave him and go away." Cleo- 
+menes was pleased with the child's counsel and went 
+into another room; and Aristagoras departed clean 
+out of Sparta, and could find no occasion for telling 
+further of the journey inland to the king's place. 
+
+52. Now the nature of this road ! is as I shall show. 
+ΛΙ along it are the king's stages and exceeding good 
+hostelries, and the whole of it passes through country 
+that is inhabited and safe. Its course through Lydia 
+and Phrygia is of the length of twenty stages, and 
+ninety-four and a half parasangs. Next after Phrygia 
+it comes to the river Halys, where there is a defile, 
+which must be passed ere the river can be crossed, 
+and a great fortress to guard it. After the passage 
+into Cappadocia the road in that land as far as the 
+borders of Cilicia is of twenty-eight stages and an 
+hundred and four parasangs. On this frontier you 
+must ride through two defiles and pass two fortresses; _ 
+
+
+1 «The royal road from Sardis to Susa is far older than 
+the Persian empire,” say Messrs. How and Wells. Evidence 
+points to the existence of a Hittite capital in Cappadocia, to 
+connect which with Sardis on the one hand and Assyria on 
+the other was the purpose of the road. 
+
+
+57 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+κτήρια. παραμείψεαι. ταῦτα δὲ διεξελάσαντι καὶ 
+διὰ τῆς Κιλικίης ὁδὸν ποιευμένῳ τρεῖς. εἰσι 
+σταθμοί, παρασάγγαι δὲ πεντεκαίδεκα καὶ ἥμισυ. 
+οὖρος δὲ Κιλικίης καὶ τῆς ᾿Αρμενίης ἐ ἐστὶ ποταμὸς 
+νηυσιπέρητος, τῷ οὔνομα Εὐφρήτης. ἐν δὲ τῇ 
+᾿Αρμενίῃ σταθμοὶ μὲν εἰσὶ καταγωγέων πεντε- 
+καίδεκα, παρασάγγαι δὲ ἓξ καὶ πεντήκοντα καὶ 
+ἥμισυ, καὶ φυλακτήριον ἐν αὐτοῖσι. ἐκ δὲ ταύτης 
+τῆς ᾿Αρμενίης ἐσβάλλοντι ἐς τὴν Ματιηνὴν γῆν 
+σταθμοί εἰσι τέσσερες καὶ τριήκοντα, παρασάγγαι 
+δὲ ἑπτὰ καὶ τριήκοντα καὶ ἑκατόν. ποταμοὶ δὲ 
+νηυσυπέρητοι τέσσερες διὰ ταύτης ῥέουσι, τοὺς 
+πᾶσα ἀνάγκη διαπορθμεῦσαι ἐστί, πρῶτος μὲν 
+Τίγρης, μετὰ δὲ δεύτερός τε καὶ τρίτος ὡυτὸς 
+ὀνομαζόμενος, οὐκ ὠντὸς ἐὼν ποταμὸς οὐδὲ ἐ ἐκ τοῦ 
+αὐτοῦ ῥέων" ὁ μὲν γὰρ πρότερον αὐτῶν κατα- 
+λεχθεὶς ἐξ ᾿Αρμενίων £ ῥέει, ὁ Ò ὕστερον. ἐκ Ματιη- 
+væv ὁ δὲ τέταρτος τῶν ποταμῶν οὔνομα ἔχει 
+Γύνδης, τὸν Κῦρος διέλαβε κοτὲ ἔς διώρυχας 
+ἑξήκοντα καὶ τριηκοσίας. ἔκ δὲ ταύτης ἐς τὴν 
+Κισσίην χώρην μεταβαίνοντι ἕνδεκα σταθμοί, 
+παρασάγγαι δὲ δύο καὶ τεσσεράκοντα καὶ ἥμισυ 
+ἐστὶ ἐπὶ ποταμὸν Χοάσπην, ἐόντα καὶ τοῦτον 
+νηυσιπέρητον' ἐπ᾽ ᾧ Σοῦσα πόλις πεπόλισται. 
+
+53. Οὗτοι οἱ πάντες σταθμοί εἰσι ἕνδεκα καὶ 
+ἑκατόν. καταγωγαὶ μέν νυν σταθμῶν τοσαῦται 
+εἰσὶ ἐκ Σαρδίων ἐς Σοῦσα ἀναβαίνοντι. εἰ δὲ 
+ὀρθῶς μεμέτρηται ἡ ὁδὸς ἡ ἡ βασιληίη τοῖσι παρα- 
+σάγγῃσι | καὶ ὁ παρασάγγης δύναται τριήκοντα 
+στάδια, ὦ ὥσπερ οὗτός γε δύναται ταῦτα, ἐκ Σαρ- 
+δίων στάδια ἐστὶ ἐς τὰ βασιλήια τὰ Μεμνόνια 
+καλεόμενα πεντακόσια καὶ τρισχίλια καὶ μύρια, 
+58 
+
+
+BOOK V. 52-53 
+
+
+ride past these, and you will have a journey through 
+Cilicia of three stages and fifteen and a half para- 
+sangs. The boundary of Cilicia and Armenia is a 
+navigable river whereof the name is Euphrates. In 
+Armenia there are fifteen resting-stages, and fifty-six 
+parasangs and a half, and there is a fortress there. 
+From Armenia the road enters the Matienian land, 
+wherein are thirty-four stages, and an hundred and 
+thirty-seven parasangs. Through this land flow four 
+navigable rivers, that must needs be passed by ferries, 
+first the Tigris, then a second and a third of the same 
+name, yet not the same stream nor flowing from the 
+same source ; for the first-mentioned of them flows 
+from the Armenians and the second from the Matieni ; 
+and the fourth river is called Gyndes, that Gyndes 
+which Cyrus parted once into three hundred and 
+sixty channels! When this country is passed, the 
+road is in the Cissian land, where are eleven stages 
+and forty-two and a half parasangs, as far as yet 
+another navigable river, the Choaspes, whereon 
+stands the city of Susa. 
+
+53. Thus the whole tale of stages is an hundred 
+and eleven. So many resting-stages then there are 
+in the going up from Sardis to Susa. If I have 
+rightly numbered the parasangs of the royal road, 
+and the parasang is of thirty furlongs’ length 
+(which assuredly it is), then between Sardis and the 
+king's abode called Memnonian? there are thirteen 
+thousand and five hundred furlongs, the number of 
+
+
+1 Cp. I. 189. 
+
+* Memnon was the legendary king of the *'eastern 
+Ethiopians," or Assyrians. When tradition began to place 
+the Homeric Ethiopians in Libya, Memnon, the Ethiop 
+king, came to be associated with Thebes in Egypt. 
+
+
+59 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+παρασαγγέων ἐόντων πεντήκοντα καὶ τετρακοσίων. 
+πεντήκοντα δὲ καὶ ἑκατὸν στάδια ἐ ἐπ᾽ ἡμέρῃ ἑκάστῃ 
+διεξιοῦσι ἀναισιμοῦνται ἡμέραι ἀπαρτὶ ἐνενή- 
+κοντα. 
+
+54. Οὕτω τῷ Μιλησίῳ ᾿Αρισταγόρῃ εἴπαντι 
+πρὸς Κλεομένεα τὸν Λακεδαιμόνιον εἶναι τριῶν 
+μηνῶν τὴν ἄνοδον τὴν παρὰ βασιλέα ὀρθῶς εἴρητο. 
+εἰ δέ τις τὸ ἀτρεκέστερον τούτων ἔτι δίξηται, ἐ ἐγὼ 
+καὶ τοῦτο σημανέω" τὴν γὰρ ἐξ ᾿Εφέσου ἐ ἐς Σάρδις 
+ὁδὸν δεῖ προσλογίσασθαι ταύτῃ. καὶ δὴ λέγω 
+σταδίους εἶναι τοὺς πάντας ἀπὸ θαλάσσης τῆς 
+Ἑλληνικῆς μέχρι Ἑούσων (τοῦτο γὰρ Μεμνόνειον 
+ἄστυ καλέεται) τεσσεράκοντα καὶ τετρακισχιλίους 
+καὶ μυρίους" οἱ γὰρ ἐξ Ἐφέσου ἐς Σάρδις εἰσὶ 
+τεσσεράκοντα καὶ πεντακόσιοι στάδιοι, καὶ. οὕτω 
+oe ἡμέρῃσι μηκύνεται 7) τρίμηνος ὀδός. 
+
+᾽Απελαυνόμενος δὲ ὁ ᾿Αρισταγόρης ἐκ τῆς 
+Σπάρτης d ῆιε ἐς τὰς ᾿Αθήνας. γενομένας τυράννων 
+ὧδε ἐλευθέρας. ἐπεὶ Ἵππαρχον τὸν Πεισιστράτου, 
+Ἱππίεω δὲ τοῦ τυράννου ἀδελφεόν, ἰδόντα ὄψιν 
+ἐνυπνίου τῷ ἑωυτοῦ πάθεϊ ἐ ἐναργεστάτην. κτείνουσι 
+᾿Αριστογείτων καὶ “Αρμόδιος, γένος ἐόντες τὰ 
+ἀνέκαθεν Γεφυραῖοι, μετὰ ταῦτα ἐτυραννεύοντο 
+᾿Αθηναῖοι ἐ ἐπ᾽ ἔτεα τέσσερα οὐδὲν ἧσσον ἀλλὰ καὶ 
+μᾶλλον ἢ πρὸ τοῦ. 
+
+56. Ἡ μέν νυν ὄψις τοῦ Ἱππάρχου ἐ ἐνυπνίου ἦν 
+ἥδε: ἐν τῇ προτέρη νυκτὶ τῶν Παναθηναίων ἐδόκεε 
+
+ὁ "Ίππαρχος ἄνδρα οἱ ἐπιστάντα μέγαν καὶ εὐειδέα 
+ο τα... τάδε τὰ ἔπεα. 
+
+
+τλῆθι λέων ἄτλητα παθὼν τετληότι θυμῷ" 
+οὐδεὶς ἀνθρώπων ἀδικῶν τίσιν οὐκ ἀποτίσει. 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+BOOK V. 53-56 
+
+
+parasangs being four hundred and fifty ; and if each 
+day's journey be an hundred and fifty furlongs, then 
+the sum of days spent is ninety, neither more nor 
+less. 
+
+54. Thus Aristagoras of Miletus spoke the truth 
+to Cleomenes the Lacedaemonian when he said that 
+the journey inland was three months long. But if 
+any desire a measurement yet exacter, I will give 
+him that too ; forthe journey from Ephesus to Sardis 
+must be added to the rest. So then I declare that 
+from the Greek sea to Susa (for that is the city called 
+Memnonian) it is a journey of fourteen thousand and 
+forty stages; for there are five hundred and forty 
+furlongs from Ephesus to Sardis, and thus the three 
+months' journey is made longer by three days. 
+
+55. Being compelled to leave Sparta, Aristagoras 
+went to Athens; which had been freed from its 
+ruling despots in the manner that I shall show. 
+When Hipparchus, son of Pisistratus and brother of 
+Hippias the despot, had been slain (after seeing in a 
+dream a very clear picture of the evil that befel him) 
+by Aristogiton and Harmodius, men of Gephyraean 
+descent, after this the Athenians were subject for 
+four years to a despotism not less but even more 
+absolute than before. 
+
+56. Now this was. the vision which Hipparchus 
+saw in a dream: inthenight before the Panathenaea 
+he thought that a tall and goodly man stood over him 
+uttering these riddling verses: 
+
+
+Bear an unbearable lot; O lion, be strong for the 
+bearing : 
+
+No man on earth doth wrong but at last shall 
+suffer requital. 
+
+
+61 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ταῦτα δέ, ὡς ἡμέρη ἐγένετο τάχιστα, φανερὸς ἦν 
+ὑπερτιθέμενος ὀνειροπόλοισι" μετὰ δὲ ἀπειπά- 
+μενος τὴν ὄψιν ἔπεμπε τὴν πομπήν, ἐν τῇ δὴ 
+τελευτᾷ. 
+
+57. Οἱ δὲ T εφυραῖοι, τῶν ἦσαν οἱ φονέες οἱ 
+Ἱππάρχου, ὡς μὲν αὐτοὶ λέγουσι, ἐγεγόνεσαν ἐξ 
+Ἐρετρίης τὴν ἀρχήν, ὡς δὲ ἐγὼ -ἀναπυνθανόμενος 
+εὑρίσκω, ἦσαν Φοίνικες τῶν σὺν Κάδμῳ ἀπικο- 
+μένων Φοινίκων ἐς γῆν, τὴν νῦν Βοιωτίην καλεο- 
+μένην, οἴκεον δὲ τῆς χώρης ταύτης ἀπολαχόντες 
+τὴν Ταναγρικὴν μοῖραν. ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ Καδμείων 
+πρότερον, ἐξαναστάντων i ὑπ᾽ Αργείων, οἱ Γεφυραῖοι 
+οὗτοι δεύτερα ὑπὸ Βοιωτῶν ἐξαναστάντες ἐτρά- 
+ποντο ἐπ ᾿Αθηνέων. ᾿Αθηναῖοι δὲ σφέας ἐπὶ 
+ῥητοῖσι ἐδέξαντο σφέων αὐτῶν εἶναι πολιήτας, 
+πολλῶν τεῶν καὶ οὐκ ἀξιαπηγήτων ἐπιτάξαντες 
+ἔργεσθαι. 
+
+68. Οἱ δὲ Φοίνικες οὗτοι οἱ σὺν Κάδμῳ ar- 
+ικόµενοι, τῶν ἦσαν οἱ Γεφυραῖοι, ἄλλα τε πολλὰ 
+οἰκήσαντες ταύτην τὴν χώρην ἐσήγαγον διδασκάλια 
+ἐς τοὺς “Ελληνας καὶ δὴ καὶ γράμματα, οὐκ ἐόντα 
+πρὶν ' ΄Ελλησι ὡς ἐμοὶ δοκέειν, πρῶτα μὲν τοῖσι 
+καὶ ἅπαντες χρέωνται Φοίνικες" μετὰ δὲ χρόνου 
+προβαίνοντος ἅμα τῇ φωνή μετέβαλλον καὶ τὸν 
+ῥυθμὸν τῶν γραμμάτων. περιοίκεον δὲ σφέας τὰ 
+πολλὰ τῶν χώρων τοῦτον τὸν χρόνον Ἑλλήνων 
+"loves, ot παραλαβόντες διδαχῇ παρὰ τῶν Φοινί- 
+κων τὰ γράμματα, perappvÓ uia avres. σφέων ὀλίγα 
+ἐχρέωντο, χρεώμενοι δὲ ἐφάτισαν, ὥσπερ καὶ τὸ 
+
+
+1 Hipparchus was killed in 513. 
+1 Gephyra (— bridge or dam) was another name for 
+
+
+62 
+
+
+BOOK V. 56-58 
+
+
+As soon as it was day, he imparted this (as was seen) 
+to the interpreters of dreams; and presently putting 
+the vision from his mind, he led the procession in 
+which he met his death.1 
+
+57. Now the Gephyraean clan, of which were the 
+slayers of Hipparchus, is saidj by themselves to 
+have come at first from Eretria ; but my own enquiry 
+shows that they were some of the Phoenicians ? who 
+came with Cadmus to the country now called Boeotia, 
+and in that country the lands of Tanagra were allotted 
+to them, where they settled. The Cadmeans having 
+been first expelled thence by the Argives,? these 
+Gephyraeans were in turn expelled by the Boeotians 
+and betook themselves to Athens. The Athenians 
+received them as citizens of their own on set 
+terms, debarring them from many practices not here 
+deserving mention. 
+
+58. These Phoenicians who came with Cadmus (of 
+whom the Gephyraeans were a part) at their settle- 
+ment in this country, among many other kinds of 
+learning, brought into Hellas the alphabet, which 
+had hitherto been unknown, as I think, to the 
+Greeks; and presently as time went on the sound 
+and the form of the letters were changed. At this 
+time the Greeks that dwelt round them for the most 
+part were Ionians; who, having been taught the 
+letters by the Phoenicians, used them with some 
+few changes of form, and in so doing gave to these 
+characters (as indeed was but just, seeing that the 
+
+
+Tanagra ; S pee pe Herodotus' theory of an oriental origin is 
+based on the fact that there was a place called Gephyrae in 
+Syria. 
+
+3 This happened sixty years after the fall of Troy, 
+according to Thucydides. 
+
+
+63 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δίκαιον ἔφερε, ἐσαγαγόντων Φοινίκων ἐς τὴν 
+Ἑλλάδα, Φοινικήια κεκλῆσθαι. καὶ τὰς βύβλους 
+διφθέρας καλέουσι ἀπὸ τοῦ παλαιοῦ οἱ Ἴωνες, ὅ ὅτι 
+κοτὲ ἐν σπάνι βύβλων è ἐχρέωντο διφθέρῃσι αἰγέῃσί 
+τε καὶ οἰέῃσι' ἔτι δὲ καὶ τὸ κατ᾿ ἐμὲ πολλοὶ τῶν 
+βαρβάρων ἐ ἐς τοιαύτας διφθέρας γράφουσι. 
+
+59. Εἶδον δὲ καὶ αὐτὸς Καδμήια γράμματα ἐν 
+τῷ ἱρῷ τοῦ ᾿Απόλλωνος τοῦ Ἰσμηνίου ἐν Θήβῃσι 
+τῇσι Βοιωτῶν, ἐπὶ τρίποσι τισὶ ἐγκεκολαμμένα, 
+τὰ πολλὰ ὅμοια ἐόντα τοῖσι Ἰωνικοῖσι. ὁ μὲν δὴ 
+εἷς τῶν τριπόδων ἐπίγραμμα ἔχει 
+
+᾽Αμϕιτρύων µ ἀνέθηκ᾽ ἐνάρων ἀπὸ Τηλεβοάων.ϊ 
+ταῦτα ἡλικίην εἴη ἂν κατὰ Λάιον τὸν Λαβδάκου 
+τοῦ Πολυδώρου τοῦ Κάδμου. 
+
+60. "ETepos δὲ τρίπους ἐν ἑξαμέτρῳ τόνῳ 
+yer 
+
+Σκαῖος πυγμαχέων µε ἑκηβόλῳ ᾿Απόλλωνι 
+
+νικήσας ἀνέθηκε τεῖν περικαλλὲς ἄγαλμα. 
+Σκαῖος δ ἂν εἴη ὁ Ἱπποκόωντος, εἰ δὴ οὗτός γε 
+ἐστὶ ὁ ἀναθεὶς καὶ μὴ ἄλλος τὠυτὸ οὔνομα ἔχων 
+τῷ Ἱπποκόωντος, ἡλικίην κατὰ Οἰδίπουν τὸν 
+Λαΐου. 
+
+61. Τρίτος δὲ τρίπους λέγει καὶ οὗτος ἐν 
+ἑξαμέτρῳ 
+
+Λαοδάμας τρύποδ᾽ αὐτὸς ἐυσκόπῳ ᾿Απόλλωνι 
+
+μουναρχέων ἀνέθηκε τεῖν περικαλλὲς άγαλμα. 
+
+1 ἀνέθηκεν ἐὼν ἀπὸ Τηλεβοέων (the MS. reading) is neither 
+good Greek nor consistent with the legend of Amphitryon's 
+vengeance on his enemies, the Teleboae of Acarnania. I 
+
+
+suggest ἐνάρων, which makes good sense; or Meineke’s ἑλών 
+would do. 
+
+
+64 
+
+
+BOOK V. 58-61 
+
+
+Phoenicians had brought them into Hellas) the name 
+of Phoenician.! Thus also the Ionians have from 
+ancient times called papyrus-sheets skins, because 
+formerly for lack of papyrus they used the skins of 
+sheep and goats; and even to this day there are 
+many foreigners who write on such skins. 
+
+59. I have myself seen Cadmean characters in the 
+temple of Ismenian Apollo at Thebes of Boeotia, 
+graven on certain tripods and for the most part like 
+Ionian letters. On one of the tripods there is this 
+inscription : 
+
+I am Amphitryon's gift, from spoils Teleboan 
+
+fashioned. 
+
+
+This would be of the time of Laius, the son of 
+Labdacus, who was the son of Polydorus, who was 
+the son of Cadmus. 
+
+60. A second tripod says, in hexameter verse : 
+
+
+I am a gift that is given by Scaeus, the conquering 
+boxer, 
+
+Archer Apollo, to thee for thy temple's beauteous 
+adornment. 
+
+
+Scaeus the son of Hippocoon, if indeed the dedicator 
+be he and not another of the same name as Hippo- 
+coon's son, would be of the time of Oedipus son of 
+Laius. 
+61. The third tripod says, in hexameter verse 
+again: | 
+I am the tripod that erst Laodamas, sovereign ruler, 
+Gave to far-seeing Apollo, his temple's beauteous 
+adornment. 
+
+
+1 Whether Herodotus’ theory of derivation be right or not, 
+there is certainly a similarity in the form and order of early 
+Greek and Phoenician letters, 
+
+65 
+
+
+VOL. III. F 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐπὶ τουτου δη τοῦ Λαοδάμαντος τοῦ ᾿Ἐτεόκλέος 
+μουναρχέοντος ἐξανιστέαται Καδμεῖοι ὑπ᾽ ᾿Αρ- 
+γείων καὶ τράπονται ἐς τοὺς ᾿Εγχελέας. οἱ δὲ 
+Γεφυραῖοι ὑπολειφθέντες ὕστερον ὑπὸ Βοιωτῶν 
+ἀναχωρέουσι ἐς ᾿Αθήνας’ kai EL ἱρά ἐστι ἐν 
+᾿Αθήνῃσι ἱδρυμένα, τῶν οὐδὲν μέτα τοῖσι λοιποῖσι 
+᾿Αθηναίοισι, ἄλλα τε κεχωρισμένα τῶν ἄλλων 
+ἱρῶν καὶ δὴ καὶ ᾿Αχαιίης Δήμητρος ἱρόν τε καὶ 
+ὄργια. 
+
+62. 'H μὲν δὴ ὄψις τοῦ Ἱππάρχου ἐ ἐννπνίου καὶ 
+οἱ ,l'eóvpatot ὅθεν ἐγεγόνεσαν, τῶν ἦσαν οἱ Ἶπ- 
+πάρχου φονέες, ἀπήγηταί μοι". δεῖ δὲ πρὸς τούτοισι 
+ἔτι ἀναλαβεῖν τὸν κατ᾽ ἀρχὰς nia λέξων λόγον, 
+ὡς τυράννων ἐλευθερώθησαν ᾿Αθηναῖοι. - Ἱππίεω 
+τυραννεύοντος καὶ ἐμπικραινομένου ᾿Αθηναίοισι 
+διὰ τὸν Ἱππάρχου θάνατον, ᾿Αλκμεωνίδαι γένος 
+ἐόντες ᾿Αθηναῖοι καὶ φεύγοντες Πεισιστρατίδας, 
+ἐπείτε σφι ἅμα τοῖσι ἄλλοισι ᾿Αθηναίων φυγάσι 
+πειρωμένοιαι κατὰ τὸ ἰσχυρὸν οὐ προεχώρεε 
+κώτοδος, ἀλλὰ προσέπταιον μεγάλως πειρώμενοι 
+κατιέναι τε καὶ ἐλευθεροῦν τὰς ᾿Αθήνας, Λειψύ- 
+δριον τὸ ὑπὲρ Παιονίης τειχίσαντες, ἐνθαῦτα οἱ 
+᾽Αλκμεωνίδαι πᾶν ἐπὶ τοῖσι Πεισιστρατίδῃσι 
+μηχανώμενοι παρ᾽ ᾽Αμϕικτυόνων τὸν νηὸν pt- 
+σθοῦνται τὸν ἐν Δελφοῖσι, τὸν νῦν ἐόντα τότε δὲ 
+οὔκω, τοῦτον ἐξοικοδομῆσαι. οἷα δὲ ρημάτων 
+εὖ ἥκοντες καὶ ἐόντες ἄνδρες δόκιμοι ἀνέκαθεν ἔτι, 
+τόν τε νηὸν ἐξεργάσαντο τοῦ, παραδείγματος 
+κάλλιον τά. τε ἄλλα καὶ συγκειμένου σφι πωρίνου 
+λίθου ποιέειν τὸν νηόν, Παρίου τὰ ἔμπροσθε 
+αὐτοῦ ἐξεποίησαν. 
+
+63. Ὡς ὧν δὴ οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι λέγουσι, οὗτοι οἱ 
+66 
+
+
+BOOK V. 61-63 
+
+
+In the sovereignty of this Laodamas son of Eteocles, 
+the Cadmeans were expelled by the Argives and 
+betook themselves to the Encheleis. The Gephy- 
+raeans were left behind, but were later compelled 
+by the Boeotians to withdraw to Athens; and they 
+have certain set forms of worship at Athens, wherein 
+the rest of the Athenians have no part; these, and 
+in especial the rites and mysteries of Achaean 
+Demeter, are different from the other worships. 
+. 62. I have shown what was the vision of Hip- 
+parchus’ dream, and what the first origin of the 
+Gephyraeans, of whom were the slayers of Hip- 
+parchus ; now 1 must go further and return to the story 
+which I began to tell, namely, how the Athenians 
+were freed from their despots. Hippias being their 
+despot and growing ever bitterer in enmity against 
+the Athenians by reason of Hipparchus' death, the 
+Alemeonidae, a family of Athenian stock banished 
+by the sons of Pisistratus, essayed with the rest of 
+the banished Athenians to make their way back by 
+force and free Athens, but could not prosper in their 
+return and rather suffered great hurt. They had 
+fortified Lipsydrium north of Paeonia; then, in 
+their desire to use all devices against the sons of 
+Pisistratus, they hired themselves to the Amphictyons 
+for the building of the temple at Delphi which now 
+is but then as yet was not there. Being wealthy 
+and like their fathers men of reputation, they 
+wrought the temple into a fairer form than the 
+model shown ; in particular, whereas they had agreed 
+to build the temple of tufa, they made its front of 
+Parian marble. D 
+
+63. These men then, as the Athenians say, sat 
+
+
+67 
+F 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἄνδρες ἐν Δελφοῖσι. κατήμενοι ἀνέπειθον τὴν 
+Πυθίην χρήμασι, ὅκως. ἔλθοιεν Σπαρτιητέων 
+ἄνδρες εἴτε ἰδίῳ στόλῳ εἴτε δημοσίῳ χρησόμενοι, 
+προφέρειν σφι τὰς ᾿Αθήνας ἐλευθεροῦν. Λακεδαι- 
+μόνιοι δέ, ὥς σφι αἰεὶ τὠντὸ πρόφαντον ἐγίνετο, 
+πέμπουσι ᾿Αγχιμόλιον τὸν ᾿Αστέρος, ἐόντα τῶν 
+ἀστῶν ἄνδρα δόκιμον, σὺν στρατῷ ἐξελῶντα 
+Πεισιστρατίδας ἐξ ᾿Αθηνέων ὅμως καὶ ξεινίους 
+σφι ἐόντας τὰ μάλιστα: τὰ γὰρ τοῦ θεοῦ πρεσ- 
+βύτερα ἐ ἐποιεῦντο ἢ τὰ τῶν ἀνδρῶν" πέμπουσι δὲ 
+τούτους κατὰ θάλασσαν πλοίοισι. ὃ μὲν δὴ 
+προσσχὼν ἐς Φάληρον τὴν στρατιὴν ἀπέβησε, οἱ 
+δὲ Πεισιστρατίδαι προπυνθανόµενοι ταῦτα ET- 
+εκαλέοντο EK Θεσσαλίης ἐπικουρίην' ἐπεποίητο 
+γάρ σφι συμμαχίη πρὸς αὐτούς. Θεσσαλοὶ δέ 
+σφι δεομένοισι ἀπέπεμψαν κοινῇ γνώμῃ χρεώμενοι 
+χιλίην τε ἵππον καὶ τὸν βασιλέα τὸν σφέτερον 
+Κινέην ἄνδρα Κονιαῖον' τοὺς ἐπείτε ἔσχον ovp- 
+μάχους οἱ Πεισιστρατίδαι, ἐμηχανῶντο τοιάδε" 
+κείραντες τῶν Φαληρέων τὸ πεδίον καὶ ἱππάσιμον 
+ποιήσαντες τοῦτον τὸν χῶρον ἐπῆκαν τῷ στρατο- 
+πέδῳ τὴν ἵππον' ἐμπεσοῦσα δὲ διέφθειρε ἄλλους 
+τε πολλοὺς τῶν Λακεδαιμονίων καὶ δὴ καὶ τὸν 
+᾿Αγχιμόλιον" τοὺς δὲ περιγενομένους αὐτῶν ἐς τὰς 
+νέας κατεῖρξαν. ὁ μὲν δὴ πρῶτος στόλος ἐκ 
+Λακεδαίμονος. οὕτω ἀπήλλαξε, καὶ ᾿Αγχιμολίου 
+εἰσὶ ταφαὶ τῆς ᾿Αττικῆς ᾿Αλωπεκῆσι, ἀγχοῦ τοῦ 
+Ἡρακλείου τοῦ ἐν Κυνοσάργεϊ. 
+
+64. Μετὰ δὲ Λακεδαιμόνιοι μέζω στόλον στεί- 
+λαντες ἀπέπεμψαν ἐπὶ τὰς ᾿Αθήνας, στρατηγὸν 
+τῆς στρατιῆς ἀποδέξαντες βασιλέα Κλεομένεα 
+τὸν ᾿Αναξανδρίδεω, οὐκέτι κατὰ θάλασσαν στεί- 
+68 
+
+
+BOOK V. 63-64 
+
+
+them down at Delphi and bribed the Pythian 
+priestess, whenever any Spartans should come to 
+enquire of her on a private or a public account, to 
+bid them set Athens free. Then the Lacedae- 
+monians, when the same command was ever revealed 
+to them, sent Anchimolius the son of Aster, a citizen 
+of repute, to drive out the sons of Pisistratus with an 
+army, albeit the Pisistratids were their close friends ; 
+for the gods' will weighed with them more than the 
+will of man. They sent these men by sea on ship- 
+board. So Anchimolius put in at Phalerum and 
+there disembarked his army; but the sons of Pisis- 
+tratus had got word of the plan already, and sent to 
+ask help from Thessaly, wherewith they had an 
+alliance. The Thessalians at their entreaty joined 
+together and sent their own king, Cineas of Conium, 
+with a thousand horsemen. When the Pisistratids 
+got these allies, they devised a plan whereby they 
+laid the plain of Phalerum waste, so that all that 
+land could be ridden over, and then launched their 
+cavalry against the enemy's army; the horsemen 
+charged and slew Anchimolius and many more of 
+the Lacedaemonians, and drove those that survived 
+totheirships. Thus faring, the first Lacedaemonian 
+armament drew off; and Anchimolius’ tomb is at 
+Alopecae in Attica, near to the Heracleum in 
+Cynosarges.! 
+
+61. After this the Lacedaemonians sent out a 
+greater army to attack Athens, appointing as its 
+general their king Cleomenes son of Anaxandrides ; 
+
+
+1, The sites of Alopecae and Cynosarges are doubtful ; 
+recent research places them (but with no certainty) south 
+of the Ilissus towards Phalerum. See How and Wells 
+ad loc. 
+
+
+69 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+λαντες ἀλλὰ κατ ἤπειρον". τοῖσι ἐσβαλοῦσι ἐς 
+τὴν ᾿Αττικὴν χώρην ἡ τῶν Θεσσαλῶν ἵππος 
+πρώτη προσέμιξε καὶ οὐ μετὰ πολλὸν ἐτράπετο, 
+καί σφεων ἔπεσον ὑπὲρ τεσσεράκοντα ἄνδρας" οἱ 
+δὲ :περιγενόµενοι ἀπαλλάσσοντο ὡς εἶχον εὐθὺς 
+ἐπὶ Θεσσαλίης. Κλεομένης δὲ ἀπικόμενος ἐς τὸ 
+ἄστυ ἅμα ᾿Αθηναίων τοῖσι βουλομένοισι εἶναι 
+ἐλευθέροισι ἐπολιόρκεε τοὺς τυράννους ἀπεργ- 
+μένους ἐν τῷ Πελασγικῷ τείχεϊ. 
+
+65. Καὶ οὐδέν τι πάντως ἂν ἐξεῖλον Πεισιστρα- 
+τίδας οἱ Λακεδαιμόνιοι” οὔτε γὰρ ἐπέδρην é ἐπενόεον 
+ποιήσασθαι, ot τε Πεισιστρατίδαι σίτοισι καὶ 
+ποτοῖσι εὖ παρεσκευάδατο, πολιορκήσαντές τε ἂν 
+ἡμέρας ὀλίγας ἀπαλλάσσοντο ἐς τὴν Σπάρτην. 
+νῦν δὲ συντυχίη τοῖσι μὲν κακὴ ἐπεγένετο, τοῖσι 
+δὲ ἡ αὐτὴ αὕτη σύμμαχος" ὑπεκτιθέμενοι γὰρ ἔξω 
+τῆς χώρης. οἱ | παῖδες τῶν Πεισιστρατιδέων ἥλωσαν, 
+τοῦτο δὲ ὡς ἐγένετο, πάντα αὐτῶν τὰ πρήγματα 
+συνετετάρακτο, παρέστησαν δὲ ἐπὶ μισθῷ τοῖσι 
+τέκνοισι, ἐπ᾽ οἷσι ἐβούλοντο οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι, ὦ ὥστε ἐν 
+πέντε ἡμέρησι ἐκχωρῆσαι ἐκ τῆς ᾿Αττικῆς. μετὰ 
+δὲ ἐξεχώρησαν ἐς Σύγειον τὸ ἐπὶ τῷ Σκαμάνδρῳ, 
+ἄρξαντες μὲν ᾿Αθηναίων ἐπ᾽ ἔτεα ἕξ τε καὶ 
+τριήκοντα, ἐόντες δὲ καὶ οὗτοι ἀνέκαθεν Moroi 
+τε καὶ Νηλεῖδαι, ἐκ τῶν αὐτῶν γεγονότες καὶ οἱ 
+ἀμφὶ Κόδρον τε καὶ Μέλανθον, οἳ πρότερον 
+ἐπήλυδες ἐόντες ἐγένοντο ᾿Αθηναίων. βασιλέες. 
+ἐπὶ τούτου δὲ καὶ τὠυτὸ οὔνομα ἀπεμνημόνευσε 
+Ἱπποκράτης τῷ παιδὶ θέσθαι τὸν Πεισίστρατον, 
+ἐπὶ τοῦ Νέστορος Πεισιστράτου ποιεύμενος τὴν 
+ἐπωνυμίην. 
+
+
+79 
+
+
+BOOK V. 64-65 
+
+
+this army they sent no longer by sea but by land. 
+When they broke into Attica the Thessalian horse 
+was the first to meet them, and was presently routed 
+and more than forty men were slain; those that were 
+left alive made off for Thessaly by the nearest way 
+they could. Then Cleomenes, when he and the 
+Athenians that desired freedom came before the city, 
+drove the despots' family within the Pelasgic wall! 
+and there beleaguered them. 
+
+65. And assuredly the Lacedaemonians would 
+never have taken the Pisistratid stronghold ; for 
+they had no mind to blockade it, and the Pisistratids 
+were well furnished with food and drink; and the 
+Lacedaemonians would but have besieged the place 
+for a few days and then returned back to Sparta. 
+But as it was, there befel a turn of fortune that 
+harmed the one party and helped the other; for the 
+sons of the Pisistratid family were taken as they were 
+being privily carried out of the country. This made 
+all their plans to be confounded ; and they submitted 
+to depart out of Attica within five days on the terms 
+prescribed to them by the Athenians, in return for 
+the recovery of their children. Presently they 
+departed to Sigeum on the Scamander. They had 
+ruled the Athenians for six-and-thirty years;? they 
+too were in lineage of the house of Pylos and 
+Neleus, born of the same ancestors as the families 
+of Codrus and Melanthus, who had formerly come 
+from foreign parts to be kings of Athens. Hence 
+it was that Hippocrates gave his son for a remem- 
+brance the name Pisistratus, calling him after 
+Pisistratus the son of Nestor. 
+
+
+1 An ancient fortification on the N.W. slope of the 
+Acropolis, | 2 From 545 to 509. 
+
+
+it 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+. Οὕτω μὲν ᾿Αθηναῖοι τυράννων ἁπαλλάχθησαν' 
+ὅσα δὲ ἐλευθερωθέντες ἔρξαν ἢ ἔπαθον ἀξιόχρεα 
+ἀπηγήσιος, πρὶν ἢ ‘Iwvinv τε ἀποστῆναι ἀπὸ 
+Δαρείου καὶ ᾿Αρισταγόρεα τὸν Μιλήσιον ἀπικό- 
+μενον ἐς ᾿Αθήνας χρηίσαι σφέων βοηθέειν, ταῦτα 
+πρῶτα φράσω. 
+
+66. ᾿Αθῆναι, ἐοῦσαι καὶ πρὶν μεγάλαι, τότε 
+ἀπαλλαχθεῖσαι τυράννων ἐγίνοντο µέζονες' ἐν δὲ 
+αὐτῇσι δύο ἄνδρες ἐδυνάστενον, Κλεισθένης τε 
+ἀνὴρ ᾿Αλκμεωνίδης, ὅς περ δὴ λόγον ἔχει τὴν 
+Πυθίην ἀναπεῖσαι, καὶ ᾿Ισαγόρης Τισάνδρου 
+οἰκίης μὲν ἐὼν δοκίμου, ἀτὰρ τὰ ἀνέκαθεν οὐκ 
+ἔχω φράσαι: θύουσι δὲ οἱ συγγενέες αὐτοῦ Διὶ 
+Καρίῳ. οὗτοι οἱ ἄνδρες ἐστασίασαν περὶ δυνά- 
+µιος, ἑσσούμενος δὲ ó Κλεισθένης τὸν δῆμον 
+προσεταιρίξεται. μετὰ δὲ τετραφύλους ἐόντας 
+᾿Αθηναίους δεκαφύλους ἐποίησε, τῶν Ἴωνος 
+παίδων Γελέοντος καὶ Λἰγικόρεος καὶ ᾿Αργάδεω 
+καὶ Ὅπλητος ἀπαλλάξας. τὰς ἐπωνυμίας, ἐξευ- 
+ρὼν δὲ ἑτέρων ἡρώων ἐπωνυμίας ἐπιχωρίων, 
+πάρεξ Αἴαντος" τοῦτον δὲ ἅτε ἀστυγείτονα καὶ 
+σύμμαχον, ξεῖνον ἐόντα, προσέθετο. 
+
+67. Ταῦτ τα δέ, δοκέειν ἐμοί, ἐμιμέετο ὁ Κλει- 
+σθένης οὗτος τὸν ἑωυτοῦ μητροπάτορα Κλεισθένεα 
+τὸν Σικυῶνος τύραννον. Κλεισθένης γὰρ Αρ- 
+γείοισι πολεμήσας τοῦτο μὲν ῥαψ φδοὺς ἔπαυσε 
+ἐν Σικυῶνι ἀγωνίξεσθαι τῶν Ὁμηρείων ἐπέων 
+εἵνεκα, ὅτι ᾿Αργεῖοί τε καὶ "Άργος τὰ πολλὰ 
+πάντα ὑμνέαται' τοῦτο δέ, ἡ ἡρώιον γὰρ ἦν καὶ 
+ἔστι ἐν αὐτῇ τῇ ἀγορῆ τῶν Σικυωνίων ᾿Ἀδρήστου 
+
+
+! For a comprehension of the reform briefly recorded by 
+Herodotus, readers are referred to Grote, ch. xxxi, 
+
+
+72 
+
+
+BOOK V. 65-67 
+
+
+Thus the Athenians got quit of their despots ; 
+and all the noteworthy things that they did or 
+endured, after they were freed and before Ionia 
+revolted from Darius and Aristagoras of Miletus 
+came to Athens to ask help of its peopie==these 
+first I will now declare. 
+
+66. Athens, which had before been great, grew 
+now yet greater when rid of her despots ; and those 
+that were of chief power there were two, Cleisthenes 
+an Alcmaeonid (it is he who is reputed to have over- 
+persuaded the Pythian priestess), and Isagoras son 
+of Tisandrus, a man of a notable house, but of what 
+lineage I cannot tell; his kinsfolk sacrifice to Zeus 
+of Caria. These men with their factions fell to con- 
+tending for power, wherein Cleisthenes being worsted 
+took the commonalty into partnership.1 Presently 
+he divided the Athenians into ten tribes, instead of 
+four as formerly; he called none any more after the 
+names of the sons of Ion, Geleon, Aegicores, Argades, 
+and Hoples, but invented for them names taken 
+from other heroes, all native to the country save 
+only Aias; him he added, albeit a stranger, because 
+he was a neighbour and an ally. 
+
+67. Now herein, to my thinking, this Cleisthenes 
+was imitating his own mother's father, Cleisthenes 
+the despot of Sicyon.? For Cleisthenes, after going 
+to war with the Argives, made an end of minstrels' 
+contests at Sicyon by reason of the Homeric 
+poems, because wellnigh everywhere in these it is 
+Argives and Argos that are the theme of song; 
+furthermore, he conceived the desire to cast out 
+from the land (as being an Argive) Adrastus son of 
+
+
+2 Cleisthenes ruled at Sicyon from 600 to 570. 
+73 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τοῦ Ταλαοῦ, τοῦτον ἐπεθύμησε ὁ Κλεισθένης ἐόντα 
+᾿Αργεῖον ἐκβαλεῖν ἐκ τῆς χώρης. ἐλθὼν δὲ ἐς 
+Δελφοὺς ἐχρηστηριάξετο εἰ ἐκβάλοι τὸν "Αδρη- 
+στον" ἡ δὲ Πυθίη οἱ χρᾷ daca Αδρηστον μὲν 
+εἶναι Σικυωνίων βασιλέα, κεῖνον δὲ λευστῆρα. 
+9 ~ e N ^ / 3 / , Ay 
+ἐπεὶ δὲ o θεὸς τοῦτό γε οὗ παρεδίδου, ἀπελθὼν 
+ὀπίσω ἐφρόντιζε μηχανὴν τῇ αὐτὸς ὁ "Αδρηστος 
+3 , e ΄ e 3 ^ 9 [4 [4 
+ἀπαλλάξεται. ὡς δέ οἱ ἐξευρῆσθαι ἐδόκεε, πέμ- 
+3 / A / y , > 
+wras ἐς Θήβας τὰς Βο:ωτίας ἔφη θέλειν ἐπαγα- 
+γέσθαι Μελάνιππον τὸν ᾿Αστακοῦ' οἱ δὲ Θηβαῖοι 
+» , / N M / N 
+ἔδοσαν. ἐπαγαγόμενος δὲ ὁ Κλεισθένης τὸν 
+Μελάνιππον τέμενός οἱ ἀπέδεξε ἐν αὐτῷ τῷ 
+πρυτανηίῳ καί μιν ἵδρυσε ἐνθαῦτα ἐν τῷ ἰσχυ- 
+ροτάτῳ. ἐπηγάγετο δὲ τὸν Μελάνιππον ὁ Κλει- 
+σθένης (καὶ γὰρ τοῦτο δεῖ ἀπηγήσασθαι) ὡς 
+» 97 3 4 à / , 4 e 
+ἔχθιστον ἐόντα ᾿Αδρήστῳ, ὃς τόν τε ἀδελφεόν οἱ 
+, 
+Μηκιστέα ἀπεκτόνεε καὶ τὸν γαμβρὸν Τυδέα. 
+ἐπείτε δέ οἱ τὸ τέμενος ἀπέδεξε, θυσίας τε καὶ 
+e .. » ὃ / , / Z5 ΟΜ , 
+ὁρτὰς ᾿Αδρήστου ἀπελόμενος ἔδωκε τῷ Μελανίπ- 
+TQ. οἱ δὲ Σικυώνιοι ἐώθεσαν μεγαλωστὶ κάρτα 
+τιμᾶν τὸν Αδρηστον' ἡ γὰρ χώρη ἦν αὕτη 
+Πολύβου, ὁ δὲ Ἄδρηστος ἦν Πολύβου θυγατρι- 
+δέος, ἄπαις δὲ Πόλυβος τελευτῶν διδοῖ ᾿Αδρήστῳ 
+M » / 4 A » e , 3 7 
+τὴν ἀρχήν. τά τε δὴ ἄλλα οἱ Σικυώνιοι ἐτίμων 
+τὸν ᾿Αδρηστον καὶ δὴ πρὸς τὰ πάθεα αὐτοῦ 
+τραγικοῖσι χοροῖσι ἐγέραιρον, τὸν μὲν Διόνυσον 
+, ^ N \ ow , \ 
+οὐ τιμῶντες, τὸν δὲ “Adpnotrov. Κλεισθένης δὲ 
+` N ^ / > 7? ν y 
+χοροὺς μὲν τῷ Διονύσῳ ἀπέδωκε, τὴν δὲ ἄλλην 
+θυσίην Μελανίππῳ. 
+68. Ταῦτα μὲν ἐς "Αδρηστόν οἱ ἐπεποίητο, 
+N \ \ / vA δὴ ` e > ) y 
+φυλὰς δὲ τὰς Δωριέων, ἵνα δὴ µη αἱ αὐταὶ ἔωσι 
+τοῖσι Σικυωνίοισι καὶ τοῖσι ᾿Αργείοισι, μετέβαλε 
+74 
+
+
+BOOK V. 67-68 
+
+
+Talaus, the hero whose shrine stood then as now in 
+the very market-place of Sicyon. He went then to 
+Delphi, and enquired of the oracle if he should cast 
+Adrastus out; but the priestess in answer said: 
+* Adrastus is king of Sicyon, and thou but a common 
+slayer.” When the god would not suffer him to 
+work his will in that, he returned back and strove 
+to devise some plan which might rid him of Adrastus ; 
+and when he thought he had found one, he sent to 
+Thebes of Boeotia and said he would fain bring into 
+his country Melanippus son of Astacus; whom when 
+the Thebans gave him he brought to Sicyon, and 
+gave him a precinct in the very town-hall of the city, 
+setting him there in its strongest place. Now the 
+reason why Cleisthenes thus brought Melanippus 
+(for this too I must relate) was, that Melanippus was 
+Adrastus deadliest foe ; for Adrastus had slain his 
+brother Mecisteus and his son-in-law Tydeus. Hav- 
+ing then appointed the precinct for him, Cleisthenes 
+took away all Adrastus' sacrifices and festivals and 
+gave them to Melanippus. The Sicyonians had been 
+wont to pay very great honour to Adrastus; for 
+Polybus had been lord of that land, and Adrastus 
+was the son of Polybus' daughter; and Polybus, 
+dying without a son, gave the lordship to Adrastus. 
+Now besides other honours paid to Adrastus by the 
+Sicyonians, they celebrated his lamentable fate with 
+tragic choruses, not in honour of Dionysus but of 
+Adrastus. But Cleisthenes gave the choruses back 
+to Dionysus and the rest of the worship to 
+` Melanippus. 
+
+68. Such had been his treatment of Adrastus; but 
+as to the tribes of the Dorians, he changed their 
+names, that so these tribes should not be common 
+
+
+73 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐς ἄλλα οὐνόματα. ἔνθα καὶ πλεῖστον κατεγέ- 
+λασε τῶν Σικυωνίων" ἐπὶ γὰρ ὑός τε καὶ ὄνου τὰς 
+ἐπωνυμίας. μετατιθεὶς αὐτὰ τὰ τελευταῖα ἐπέθηκε, 
+πλὴν τῆς ἑωυτοῦ φυλῆς" ταύτῃ δὲ τὸ οὔνομα ἀπὸ 
+τῆς ἑωυτοῦ ἀρχῆς ἔθετο. οὗτοι μὲν δὴ ᾿Αρχέλαοι 
+ἐκαλέοντο, ἕτεροι δὲ ‘Taras, ἄλλοι δὲ ᾿Ονεᾶται, 
+ἕτεροι δὲ Χοιρεᾶται. τούτοισι τοῖσι οὐνόμασι τῶν 
+φυλέων ἐχρέωντο οἱ Σικυώνιοι καὶ ἐπὶ Κλεισθέ- 
+νεος ἄρχοντος καὶ ἐκείνου τεθνεῶτος ἔτι ἐπ᾽ ἔτεα 
+ἐξήκοντα' μετέπειτα μέντοι λόγον σφίσι δόντες 
+μετέβαλον ἐς τοὺς Ὕλλέας καὶ Παμφύλους καὶ 
+Δυμανάτας, τετάρτους δὲ αὐτοῖσι προσέθεντο ἐπὶ 
+τοῦ ᾿Αδρήστου παιδὸς Αἰγιαλέος τὴν ἐπωνυμίην 
+ποιεύμενοι κεκλῆσθαι Αἰγιαλέας. 
+
+09. Ταῦτα μέν νυν ὁ Σικυώνιος Κλεισθένης 
+ἐπεποιήκεε' ὁ δὲ δὴ ᾿Αθηναῖος Κλεισθένης ἐὼν 
+τοῦ Σικυωνίου τούτου θυγατριδέος καὶ τὸ οὔνομα 
+ἐπὶ τούτου ἔχων, δοκέειν ἐ ἐμοὶ καὶ .οὗτος ὑπεριδὼν 
+Ἴωνας, i ἵνα μὴ σφίσι αἱ αὐταὶ ἔωσι φυλαὶ καὶ 
+Ἴωσι, τὸν ὁμώνυμον Κλεισθένεα ἐμιμήσατο. ὡς 
+γὰρ δὴ τὸν ᾿Αθηναίων δῆμον πρότερον ἀπωσμένον 
+τότε πάντων πρὸς τὴν ἑωυτοῦ μοῖραν προσεθή- 
+κατο, τὰς φυλὰς μετωνόμασε καὶ ἐ ἐποίησε πλεῦνας | 
+ἐξ ἐλασσόνων' δέκα τε δὴ φυλάρχους ἀντὶ τεσσέ- 
+ρων ἐποίησε,δέκαχα" δὲ καὶ τοὺς δήμους κατένειµε 
+ἐς τὰς φυλάς" ἦν τε τὸν δῆμον προσθέμενος πολλῷ 
+κατύπερθε τῶν ἀντιστασιωτέων. 
+
+70. Ἔν τῷ μέρεϊ δὲ ἑσσούμενος ὁ Ἰσαγόρης 
+ἀντιτεχνᾶται τάδε", ἐπικαλέεται Κλεομένεα τὸν 
+Λακεδαιμόνιον γενόμενον ἑωυτῷ . ξεῖνον ἀπὸ τῆς 
+Πεισιστρατιδέων πολιορκίης' τὸν δὲ Κλεομένεα 
+
+
+1 Busolt's suggestion: δέκα Stein, after the MS. 
+76 
+
+
+BOOK V. 68-70 
+
+
+to Sicyonians and Argives. In this especially he 
+made a laughing-stock of the Sicyonians; for he 
+named the tribes instead after swine and asses, 
+adding the former ending of the titles, save only for 
+his own tribe ; tothis he gave a name signifying his 
+own lordship, and calling its folk People-rulers; the 
+rest were Swinites and Assites and Porkites. These 
+were the names of the tribes which the Sicyonians 
+used under Cleisthenes’ rule and for sixty ‘years 
+more after his death; but afterwards they took 
+counsel together and changed the names of three 
+to Hylleis, Pamphyli, and Dymanatae, adding 
+thereto a fourth which they made to be called 
+Aegialeis after Aegialeus son of Adrastus. 
+
+69. Thus had the Sicyonian Cleisthenes done; 
+and the Athenian Cleisthenes, who was the son of 
+that Sicyonian's daughter and bore his name, did to 
+my thinking imitate his namesake because he con- 
+temned the Ionians with his grandsire's contempt 
+and desired that the tribes should not be common to 
+his own people and the Ionians. For having,drawn to 
+his own party the Athenian commonalty, which was 
+then debarred from all rights, he gave the tribes new 
+names and increased their number, making ten 
+tribe-wardens in place of four, and assigning ten 
+districts to each tribe; and having won over the 
+commonalty he was stronger by far than the rival 
+faction. 
+
+70. Then Isagoras, being on the losing side in his 
+turn, devised a counter-plot, and invited the aid of 
+Cleomenes, who had been his friend since the be- 
+sieging of the Pisistratids; nay, it was laid to 
+
+
+77 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+εἶχε αἰτίη φοιτᾶν παρὰ τοῦ ᾿Ισαγόρεω τὴν 
+γυναῖκα. τὰ μὲν δὴ πρῶτα πέμπων ὁ Κλεομένης 
+ἐς τὰς ᾿Αθήνας κήρυκα ἐξέβαλλε Κλεισθένεα καὶ 
+μετ᾽ αὐτοῦ ἄλλους πολλοὺς ᾿Αθηναίων, τοὺς 
+ἐναγέας ἐπιλέγων" ταῦτα δὲ πέμπων ἔλεγε ἐκ 
+διδαχῆς τοῦ ᾿Ισαγόρεω. οἱ μὲν γὰρ ᾽Αλκμεωνίδαι 
+καὶ οἱ συστασιῶται αὐτῶν εἶχον αἰτίην τοῦ φόνου 
+τούτου, αὐτὸς δὲ οὐ μετεῖχε οὐδ᾽ οἱ φίλοι αὐτοῦ. 
+
+71. Οἱ & ἐναγέες ᾿Αθηναίων ὧδε ὠνομάσθησαν. 
+ἦν Κύλων τῶν ᾿Αθηναίων ἀνὴρ Ὀλυμπιονίκης: 
+οὗτος ἐπὶ τυραννίδι ἐκόμησε, προσποιησάµε- 
+γος δὲ ἑταιρηίην τῶν ἡλικιωτέων καταλαβεῖν τὴν 
+ἀκρόπολιν ἐπειρήθη, ov δυνάµενος δὲ ἐπικρα- 
+τῆσαι ἱκέτης ἵξετο πρὸς τὸ ἄγαλμα. τούτους 
+ἀνιστᾶσι μὲν. οἱ πρυτάνιες τῶν ναυκράρων, οἵ περ 
+ἔνεμον τότε τὰς ᾿Αθήνας, t ὑπεγγύους πλὴν θανάτου' 
+φονεῦσαι δὲ αὐτοὺς αἰτίη ἔχει ᾿Αλκμεωνίδας. 
+ταῦτα πρὸ τῆς Πεισιστράτου ἡλικίης ἐγένετο. 
+
+72. Κλεομένης δὲ ὡς πέμπων ἐξέβαλλε Κλει- 
+σθένεα καὶ τοὺς ἐναγέας, Κλεισθένης μὲν αὐτὸς 
+ὑπεξέσχε, μετὰ δὲ οὐδὲν ἧσσον παρῆν és Tas 
+᾿Αθήνας ὁ Κλεομένης οὐ σὺν μεγάλῃ χειρί, ἀπικό- 
+μενος δὲ ἀγηλατέει ἑπτακόσια ἐπίστια ᾿Αθηναίων, 
+τά οἱ ὑπέθετο ὁ Ἰσαγόρης. ταῦτα δὲ ποιήσας 
+δεύτερα τὴν βουλὴν καταλύειν ἐπειρᾶτο, τριηκο- 
+σίοισι δὲ τοῖσι ᾿Ισαγόρεω στασιώτῃσι τὰς ἀρχὰς 
+ἐνεχείριζε. ἀντισταθείσης δὲ τῆς βουλῆς καὶ οὐ 
+
+
+1 **'The naucraries were local districts whose presidents 
+were responsible for levying money and contingents for the 
+army and ships for the fleet" (How and Wells). But the 
+statement that they ''ruled Athens" appears to be in- 
+accurate. 
+
+
+78 
+
+
+BOOK V. 70-72 
+
+
+Cleomenes’ charge that he resorted to Isagoras’ wife. 
+Then Cleomenes first sent a herald to Athens dé- 
+manding the banishment of Cleisthenes and many 
+other Athenians with him, the Accursed, as he called 
+them; and this he said in his message by Isagoras’ 
+instruction; for the Alcmeonidae and their faction 
+were held guilty of that bloody deed, but Isagoras 
+and his friends had no part therein. 
+
+71. Now the Accursed at Athens got their name 
+on this wise. There was an Athenian named Cylon, 
+that had been a winner at Olympia. This man put 
+on the brave air of one that aimed at despotism ; 
+and gathering a company of men of like age he 
+essayed to seize the citadel; but when he could not 
+win it he took sanctuary by the goddess' statue. 
+Then he and his men were brought away by the 
+presidents of the naval boards! (who then ruled 
+Athens), being held liable to any penalty save 
+death ; but they were slain, and the slaying of them 
+was laid to the door of the Alemeonidae. All this 
+befel before the time of Pisistratus.? 
+
+72. Cleomenes then having sent and demanded 
+the banishment of Cleisthenes and the Accursed, 
+Cleisthenes himself privily departed; but none the 
+less did Cleomenes presently appear before Athens, 
+with no great force; and having come he banished 
+seven hundred Athenian households named for him 
+by Isagoras, to take away the curse. Having so 
+done. he next essayed to dissolve the Council,’ 
+entrusting the offices of governance to Isagoras’ 
+faction, But the Council resisted him and would 
+
+
+3 The probable date is between 620 and 600. 
+
+
+* Herodotus probably means the new Council of 500, fifty 
+from each tribe. 
+
+
+79 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Βουλομένης πείθεσθαι, ὅ τε Κλεομένης καὶ ὁ 
+Ἰσαγόρης καὶ οἱ στασιῶται αὐτοῦ καταλαμβά.- 
+νουσι τὴν ἀκρόπολιν. ᾿Αθηναίων δὲ οἱ λοιποὶ 
+τὰ αὐτὰ φρονήσαντες ἐπολιόρκεον αὐτοὺς ἡμέρας 
+δύο’ τῇ δὲ τρίτῃ ὑπόσπονδοι ἐξέρχονται ἐκ τῆς 
+χώρης ὅσοι ἦσαν αὐτῶν Λακεδαιμόνιοι. ἐπετε- 
+λέετο δὲ τῷ Κλεομένεϊ ἡ φήμη. ὡς γὰρ ἀνέβη ἐ ἐς 
+τὴν ἀκρόπολιν μέλλων δ αὐτὴν κατασχήσειν, ἤιε 
+ἐς τὸ ἄδυτον τῆς θεοῦ ὡς προσερέων' 7 δὲ ἱρείη 
+ἐξαναστᾶσα ἐκ tov θρόνου, πρὶν ἢ τὰς θύρας 
+αὐτὸν ἀμεῖψαι, cime‘ Q ξεῖνε Λακεδαιμόνιε, πάλιν 
+χώρες μηδὲ ἔσιθι ἐς τὸ ἱρόν" οὐ γὰρ, θεμιτὸν 
+Δωριεῦσι παριέναι ἐνθαῦτα.᾽ ὁ δὲ εἶπε' "0 γύναι, 
+arr’ οὐ Δωριεύς εἰμι ἀλλ᾽ Αχαιός. ' ὃ μὲν δὴ τῇ 
+κλεηδόνι οὐδὲν χρεώμενος ἐπεχείρησέ τε καὶ τότε 
+πάλιν ἐξέπιπτε μετὰ τῶν Λακεδαιμονίων" τοὺς δὲ 
+ἄλλους ᾿Αθηναῖοι κατέδησαν τὴν ἐπὶ θανάτῳ, ἐ ἐν 
+δὲ αὐτοῖσι καὶ Τιμησίθεον τὸν Δελφόν, τοῦ ἔργα 
+χειρῶν τε καὶ λήματος ἔχοιμ᾽ ἂν μέγιστα κατα- 
+λέξαι. 
+
+73. Οὗτοι μέν γυν δεδεμένοι ἐτελεύτησαν. 
+᾿Αθηναῖοι δὲ μετὰ ταῦτα Κλεισθένεα καὶ τὰ 
+ἑπτακόσια ἐπίστια τὰ διωχθέντα ὗ ὑπὸ Κλεομένεος 
+μεταπεμψάμενοι πέμπουσι ἀγγέλους ἐς Σάρδις, 
+συμμαχίην βουλόμενοι ποιήσασθαι πρὸς Πέρσας 
+ἠπιστέατο γὰρ σφίσι Λακεδαιμονίους |. τε καὶ 
+Κλεομένεα ἐκπεπολεμῶσθαι. ἀπικομένων δὲ 
+τῶν ἀγγέλων ἐς τὰς Σάρδις καὶ λεγόντων τὰ 
+ἐντεταλμένα, ᾿Αρταφρένης ὁ ὁ Ὑστάσπεος Σαρδίων 
+ὕπαρχος ἐπειρώτα τίνες ἐόντες ἄνθρωποι καὶ κοῦ 
+
+
+1 MS. σφίσι πρὸς Λακεδαιμονίου: ; Stein brackets πρός, which 
+is better omitted, 
+
+
+8o 
+
+
+BOOK V. 72-73 
+
+
+not consent; whereupon Cleomenes and Isagoras 
+and his partisans seized tle acropolis. The rest 
+of the Athenians united and besieged them for 
+two days; and on the third they departed out 
+of the country under treaty, as many of them as 
+were Lacedaemonians. Thus the prophetic voice 
+that Cleomenes heard had its fulfilment; for 
+when he went up to the acropolis with intent 
+to take possession of it, he approached the shrine 
+of the goddess to address himself to her; but the 
+priestess rose up from her seat, and said, before 
+he had passed through the doorway: “Go back, 
+Lacedaemonian stranger, and enter not into the 
+holy place; for it is not lawful that Dorians should 
+pass in here.” ‘Nay, lady," he answered, “no 
+Dorian am I, but an Achaean.” So he took no heed 
+to the word of omen, but essayed to work his will, 
+and was, as I have said, then again cast out, with 
+his Lacedaemonians. As for the rest, the Athenians 
+put them in ward under sentence of death, Time- 
+sitheus the Delphian among them, whose achieve- 
+ments of strength and courage were most mighty, as 
+I could relate. 
+
+13. So these were bound and put to death. 
+After that, the Athenians sent to bring back Cleis- 
+thenes and the seven hundred households banished 
+by Cleomenes; then they despatched envoys to 
+Sardis, desiring to make an alliance with the 
+Persians ; for they knew that they had provoked the 
+Lacedaemonians and Cleomenes to war. When 
+the envoys came to Sardis and spoke as they had 
+been bidden, Artaphrenes son of Hystaspes, viceroy of 
+Sardis, asked them, ** What men are you, and where 
+
+
+8r 
+VOL. III. G 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+γῆς οἰκημένοι δεοίατο Περσέων σύμμαχοι γενέ- 
+σθαι, πυθόμενος δὲ πρὸς τῶν ἀγγέλων ἀπεκορύφου 
+σφι τάδε’ εἰ μὲν διδοῦσι βασιλέι Δαρείῳ ᾿Αθηναῖοι 
+γῆν τε καὶ ὕδωρ, ὃ δὲ συμμαχίην σφι συνετίθετο, 
+ei δὲ μὴ διδοῦσι, ἀπαλλάσσεσθαι αὐτοὺς ἐκέλευε. 
+οἱ δὲ ἄγγελοι ἐπὶ σφέων αὐτῶν βαλόμενοι διδόναι 
+ἔφασαν, βουλόμενοι τὴν συμμαχίην ποιήσασθαι. 
+οὗτοι μὲν E ἀπελθόντες ἐς THY ἑωυτῶν αἰτίας 
+μεγάλας εἶχον. 
+
+14. Κλεομένης δὲ ἐπιστάμενος περιυβρίσθαι 
+ἔπεσι καὶ ἔργοισι ὑπ᾽ ᾿Αθηναίων συνέλεγε ἐκ 
+πάσης Πελοποννήσου στεπτύν, οὐ φράζων ἐς τὸ 
+συλλέγει, τίσασθαί τε ἐθέλων τὸν δῆμον τὸν 
+᾿Αθηναίων καὶ Ἰσαγόρην , BovXópevos τύραννον 
+καταστῆσαι: συνεξῆλθε γάρ οἱ οὗτος ἐκ τῆς ἆκρο- 
+. Κλεομένης τε δὴ στόλῳ μεγάλῳ ἐσέβαλε 
+
+᾿Ελευσῖνα, καὶ οἱ Βοιωτοὶ ἀπὸ συνθήματος 
+Οἰνόην αἱρέουσι καὶ Ὑσιὰς δήμους τοὺς ἐσχάτους 
+τῆς, ᾿Αττικῆς, Χαλκιδέες τε ἐπὶ τὰ ἕτερα ἐσίνοντο 
+ἐπιόντες χώρους τῆς ᾿Αττικῆς. ᾿Αθηναῖοι δέ, 
+καίπερ ἀμφιβολίῃ ἐχόμενοι, Βοιωτῶν μὲν καὶ 
+Χαλκιδέων ἐς ὕστερον ἔμελλον μνήμην ποιή- 
+σεσθαι, Πελοποννησίοισι δὲ ἐοῦσι ἐν ᾿Ελευσῖνι 
+avria ἔθεντο τὰ ὅπλα. 
+
+19. Μελλόντων δὲ συνάψειν τὰ στρατόπεδα. ἐς 
+μάχην, Κορίνθιοι μὲν πρῶτοι σφίσι αὐτοῖσι 
+δόντες λόγον ὡς οὐ ποιέοιεν δίκαια μετεβάλλοντό 
+τε καὶ ἀπαλλάσσοντο, μετὰ δὲ Δημάρητος ὁ 
+᾿Αρίστωνος, ἑὼν καὶ οὗτος βασιλεὺς Σπαρτιητέων 
+καὶ συνεξαγαγών τε τὴν στρατιὴν ἐκ Λακεδαί- 
+μονος καὶ οὐκ ἐὼν διάφορος ἐν τῷ πρόσθε χρόνῳ 
+Κλεομένεϊ. ἀπὸ δὲ ταύτης τῆς διχοστασίης ἐτέθη 
+82 . 
+
+
+BOOK V. 73-75 — 
+
+
+dwell you, who desire alliance with the Persians?” 
+
+Deing informed by the envoys, he gave them an 
+answer whereof the substance was, that if the Athe- 
+nians gave king Darius earth and water, then he 
+would make alliance with them ; but if not, his 
+command was that they should begone. The envoys 
+consulted together and consented to give what was 
+asked, in their desire to make the alliance. So they 
+returned to their own country, and were there 
+greatly blamed for what they had done. 
+
+74. ButCleomenes,for the despite which he deemed 
+that the Athenians had done him by word and deed, 
+mustered an army from the whole of Peloponnesus, 
+not declaring the purpose for which he mustered it, 
+which was, to avenge himself on the Athenian 
+commonalty and set up Isagoras as despot ;—for 
+Isagoras too had come with him out of the acropolis. 
+So Cleomenes broke in as far as Eleusis with a great 
+host, and the Boeotians by a concerted plan took 
+Oenoe and Hysiae, districts on the borders of Attica, 
+while the Chalcidians attacked on another side and 
+raided lands in Attica. The Athenians, thus caught 
+in a ring of foes, kept the Boeotians and Chalcidians 
+for future remembrance, but set up their array against 
+the Peloponnesians where they were at Eleusis. 
+
+. 75. But when the armies were to join battle, the 
+‘Corinthians first agreed among themselves that they 
+were doing unjustly, and so changed about and 
+departed; and presently Demaratus son of Ariston, 
+the other king of Sparta, did likewise, albeit he 
+had come with Cleomenes from Lacedaemon in joint 
+command of the army and had not till now been at 
+variance with him. From this disunion a law was 
+
+
+83 
+G 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+/ 4 Ul M 9 ^ ν > , 
+νόμος ἐν Σπάρτῃ μὴ ἐξεῖναι ἕπεσθαι ἀμφοτέρους 
+3 ^ 4 \ 
+τοὺς βασιλέας ἐξιούσης στρατιῆς' τέως γὰρ 
+ἀμφότεροι εἵποντο' παραλυομένου δὲ τούτων τοῦ 
+ἑτέρου καταλείπεσθαι καὶ τῶν 'Γυνδαριδέων τὸν 
+- , 
+ἕτερον: πρὸ τοῦ γὰρ δὴ καὶ οὗτοι ἀμφότεροι 
+ld / / 
+ἐπίκλητοί σφι ἐόντες εἴποντο. 
+L] ^ e ^ e 
+76. Τότε δὴ ἐν τῇ Ἐλευσῖνι ὁρῶντες οἱ λοι- 
+^ , ^ 
+Tol τῶν συμμάχων τούς τε βασιλέας τῶν 
+Λακεδαιμονίων οὐκ ὁμολογέοντας καὶ Κοριν- 
+/ 
+θίους ἐκλιπόντας τὴν τάξιν, οἴχοντο καὶ αὐτοὶ 
+^ A 
+ἁπαλλασσόμενοι, τέταρτον δὴ τοῦτο ἐπὶ τὴν 
+᾿Αττικὴν ἀπικόμενοι Δωριέες, δίς τε ἐπὶ πολέμῳ 
+/ ^ ^ ^ 
+ἐσβαλόντες καὶ δὶς ἐπ’ ἀγαθῷ τοῦ πλήθεος τοῦ 
+» - / 
+Αθηναίων, πρῶτον μὲν ὅτε καὶ Μέγαρα κατοίκι- 
+. M , > N , 4 
+σαν' οὗτος ὁ στόλος ἐπὶ Κόδρου βασιλεύοντος 
+ΑΘ / 3 8 A A [4 5 r δὲ A 
+"ναίων ὀρθῶς ἂν καλέοιτο' δεύτερον δὲ καὶ 
+4 e 
+τρίτον ὅτε ἐπὶ Πεισιστρατιδέων ἐξέλασιν opun- 
+, / 
+θέντες ἐκ Σπάρτης ἀπίκοντο, τέταρτον δὲ τότε ὅτε 
+3 > ^ [4 » , 
+ἐς Ελευσῖνα Κλεομένης ἄγων Πελοποννησίους 
+3. e ΄ / / > 7 
+ἐσέβαλε. οὕτω τέταρτον τότε Δωριέες ἐσέβαλον 
+3 E 
+ἐς Αθήνας. 
+TT. Διαλυθέντος ὧν τοῦ στόλου τού-ου ἀκλεῶς, 
+3 ^ > ^ / , ^ 
+ἐνθαῦτα ᾿Αθηναῖοι τίνυσθαι βουλόμενοι πρῶτα 
+στρατηίην ποιεῦνται ἐπὶ Χαλκιδέας. Βοιωτοὶ δὲ 
+^ ^ , > \ N 1» . 
+τοῖσι Χαλκιδεῦσι βοηθέουσι ἐπὶ τὸν Εὔριπον. 
+"AG: / δὲ IÒ A \ \ CÓ , 
+ηναίοισι δὲ ἰδοῦσι τοὺς Βοιωτοὺς ἔδοξε πρότε- 
+ρον τοῖσι Βοιωτοῖσι ἡ τοῖσι Χαλκιδεῦσι ἐπιχει- 
+- - e 
+έειν. συμβάλλουσί τε δὴ τοῖσι Βοιωτοῖσι ot 
+^ ^ / N 
+Αθηναῖοι καὶ πολλῷ ἐκράτησαν, κάρτα δὲ πολ- 
+^ , 
+λοὺς φονεύσαντες ἑπτακοσίους αὐτῶν ἐζώγρησαν. 
+τῆς δὲ αὐτῆς ταύτης ἡμέρης οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι δια- 
+βάντες ἐς τὴν Ebfoiav συμβάλλουσι καὶ τοῖσι 
+84 
+
+
+BOOK V. 75-77 
+
+
+made at Sparta that when an army was despatched 
+both kings should not be suffered to go with it (for 
+till then they had both gone together); thus one of 
+the kings being released from service, one of the 
+sons of Tyndarus too could be left at home; for 
+before that time, both of these also were entreated 
+to aid and went with the army. 
+
+76. So now at Eleusis, when the rest of the 
+allies saw that the Lacedaemonian kings were not 
+of one mind and that the Corinthians had left their 
+post, they too went off and away. This was the 
+fourth time that Dorians had come into Attica. 
+Twice had they come as invaders in war, and twice 
+to the help of the Athenian commonalty; the first 
+time was when they planted a settlement at Megara 1 
+(this expedition may rightly be said to have been 
+in the reign of Codrus), the second and third when 
+they set out from Sparta to drive out the sons of 
+Pisistratus, and the fourth was now, when Cleomenes 
+broke in as far as Eleusis with his following of 
+Peloponnesians; thus this was the fourth Dorian 
+invasion of Athens. 
+
+17. This armament then having been ingloriously 
+scattered, the Athenians first marched against the 
+Chalcidians, to-punish them. The Boeotians came 
+to the Euripus to help the Chalcidians. When the 
+Athenians saw the helpers they resolved to attack 
+the Boeotians before the Chalcidians ; and meeting 
+the Boeotians in battle they won a great victory ; 
+very many they slew, and seven hundred of them 
+they took prisoners. And on that same day the 
+Athenians crossed to Euboea, where they met the 
+
+
+1 There is a clear tradition that this happened soon after 
+the Dorian invasion of the Peloponnese. 
+
+
+85 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Χαλκιδεῦσι, νικήσαντες δὲ καὶ τούτους τετρα- 
+κισχιλίους κληρούχους ἐπὶ τῶν ἱπποβοτέων τῇ 
+χώρῃ λείπουσι. οἱ δὲ ἱπποβόται ἐκαλέοντο οἱ 
+παχέες τῶν Χαλκιδέων. ὅσους δὲ καὶ τούτων 
+ἐζώγρησαν, ἅμα τοῖσι Βοιωτῶν ἐξωγρημένοισι 
+εἶχον ἐν φυλακῇ ἐς πέδας δήσαντες’ χρόνῳ δὲ 
+ἔλυσαν σφέας δίμνεως ἀποτιμησάμενοι. τὰς δὲ 
+πέδας αὐτῶν, ἐν τῇσι ἐδεδέατο, ἀνεκρέμασαν ἐς 
+τὴν ἀκρόπολιν: αἴ περ ἔτι καὶ ἐς ἐμὲ ἦσαν 
+περιεοῦσαι, .κρεμάμεναι ἐκ τειχέων περιπεφλευ- 
+σμένων. πυρὶ ὑπὸ τοῦ Μήδου, ἆ ἀντίον δὲ τοῦ μεγάρου 
+τοῦ πρὸς ἑσπέρην τετραμμένου. καὶ τῶν λύτρων 
+τὴν δεκάτην ἀνέθηκαν ποιησάμενοι τέθριππον 
+χάλκεον". τὸ δὲ ἀριστερῆς χειρὸς ἕστηκε πρῶτον 
+ἐσιόντι ἐς τὰ προπύλαια τὰ ἐν τῇ ἀκροπόλι' 
+ἐπιγέγραπται δέ οἱ τάδε. 
+
+
+ἔθνεα Βοιωτῶν καὶ Χαλκιδέων δαμάσαντες 
+παῖδες ᾿Αθηναίων ἔ ἔργμασιν. ἐν πολέμου, 
+
+δεσμῷ ἐ ἐν ἀχλυόεντι σιδηρέῳ ἔσβεσαν ὕβριν: 
+τῶν ἵππους δεκάτην Παλλάδι τάσδ᾽ ἔθεσαν. 
+
+
+18. ᾿Αθηναῖοι μέν νυν ηὔξηντο. δηλοῖ δὲ ov 
+κατ᾽ ἓν μοῦνον ἀλλὰ πανταχῇ ἡ ἰσηγορίη ὡς ἔστι 
+χρῆμα σπουδαῖον, εἰ καὶ ᾿Αθηναῖοι ^ τυραννευόµενοι 
+μὲν οὐδαμῶν τῶν σφέας περιοικεόντων ἦσαν τὰ 
+πολέμια ἀμείνους, .ἀπαλλαχθέντες δὲ τυράννων 
+μακρῷ πρῶτοι ἐγένοντο. δηλοῖ ὧν ταῦτα ὅτι 
+κατεχόμενοι μὲν ἐθελοκάκεον d ὡς δεσπότῃ ἐργαξό- 
+μενοι, ἐλευθερωθέντων δὲ αὐτὸς ἕκαστος ἑωυτῷ 
+προεθυµέετο κατεργάξεσθαι. 
+
+
+* Settlers among whom the confiscated land, divided into 
+equal lots, was distributed. 
+
+
+86 
+
+
+BOOK V. 77-78 
+
+
+Clialcidians too in battle, and having overcome them 
+likewise they left four thousand tenant farmers! on 
+the lands of the horse-breeders; for that was the 
+name of the men of substance among the Chal- 
+cidians. As many as they took alive of these also, 
+they fettered and kept in ward with the captive 
+Boeotians; but in time they set them free, each for 
+an assessed ransom of two minae. The fetters in 
+which the prisoners had been bound they hung up 
+in the acropolis, where they were still to be seen 
+in my time, hanging from walls that the Medes’ fire 
+had charred, over against the cell that faces west- 
+wards. Moreover, they dedicated a tenth part of 
+the ransoms, making of it a four-horse chariot; this 
+stands on the left hand of the entrance into the 
+. outer porch of the acropolis,? bearing this inscription : 
+
+
+Athens’ bold Sons, what time in glorious Fight 
+They quelled Boeotian and Chalcidian Might, 
+In Chains and Darkness did its Pride enslave ; 
+As Ransom's Tithe these Steeds to Pallas gave. 
+
+
+78. Thus grew the power of Athens; and it is 
+proved not by one but by many instances that 
+equality is a good thing; seeing that while they 
+were under despotic rulers the Athenians were no 
+better in war than any of their neighbours, yet once 
+they got quit of despots they were far and away 
+the first of all. This, then, shows that while they 
+were oppressed they willed to be cravens, as men 
+working for a master, but when they were freed 
+each one was zealous to achieve for himself. 
+
+
+2 Probably in the open space in front of the old Propylon ; 
+there would not have been room for this monument in the 
+new Propylaea, finished in 432 r.c. 
+
+
+87 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+19. Οὗτοι μέν νυν ταῦτα ἔπρησσον. Θηβαῖοι 
+δὲ μετὰ ταῦτα ἐς θεὸν ἔπεμπον, βουλόμενοι τίσα- 
+σθαι ᾿Αθηναίους. Ù δὲ Ἠνυδίη ἀπὸ σφέων μὲν 
+αὐτῶν οὐκ ἔφη αὐτοῖσι εἶναι τίσιν, ἐς πολύφημον 
+δὲ ἐξενείκαντας ἐκέλευε τῶν ἄγχιστα δέεσθαι. 
+ἀπελθόντων ὧν τῶν θεοπρόπων, ἐξέφερον τὸ 
+χρηστήριον ἁλίην ποιησάμενοι" ὡς ἐπυνθάνοντο 
+δὲ λεγόντων αὐτῶν τῶν ἄγχιστα δέεσθαι, εἶπαν 
+οἱ Θηβαῖοι ἀκούσαντες τούτων τ Οὐκῶν ἄγχιστα 
+ἡμέων οἰκέουσι Τ Γαναγραῖοί τε καὶ Κορωναῖοι καὶ 
+Θεσπιέες ; καὶ οὗτοί γε ἅμα ἡμῖν αἰεὶ μαχόμενοι 
+προθύμως συνδιαφέρουσι τὸν πόλεμον" τύ δεῖ 
+τούτων γε, δέεσθαι ; ; ἀλλὰ μᾶλλον μὴ οὐ τοῦτο 7 
+τὸ χρηστήριον.᾽ 
+
+80. Τοιαῦτα ἐπιλεγομένων εἶπε δή κοτε μαθών 
+τις “Eyo pot δοκέω συνιέναι τὸ θέλει λέγειν ἡμῖν 
+τὸ μαντήιον. ᾿Ασωποῦ λέγονται γενέσθαι θυγα- 
+Tepes Θήβη τε καὶ Αἴγινα' τουτέων ἀδελφεῶν 
+ἐουσέων, δοκέω ἡ ἡμῖν Αἰγινητέων δέεσθαι τὸν θεὸν 
+χρῆσαι τιμωρητήρων γενέσθαι. καὶ οὐ γάρ τις 
+ταύτης ἀμείνων γνώμη ἐδόκεε φαίνεσθαι, αὐτίκα 
+πέμψαντες ἐδέοντο Αἰγινητέων ἐπικαλεόμενοι 
+κατὰ τὸ χρηστήριόν σφι βοήθέειν, ὡς ἐόντων 
+ἀγχίστων' οἳ δέ σφι αἰτέουσι ἐπικουρίην τοὺς 
+Αἰακίδας συμπέμπειν ἔφασαν. 
+
+81. Πειρησαμένων δὲ τῶν Θηβαίων κατὰ τὴν 
+συμμαχίην τῶν Αἰακιδέων καὶ «τρηχέως περι- 
+εφθέντων ὑπὸ τῶν ᾿Αθηναίων, αὖτις οἱ Θηβαῖοι 
+πέμψαντες τοὺς μὲν Αἰακίδας σφι ἀπεδίδοσαν, τῶν 
+δὲ ἀνδρῶν ἐδέοντο. Αἰγινῆται δὲ εὐδαιμονίῃ τε 
+μεγάλη ἐπαερθέντες καὶ ἔχθρης παλαιῆς dva- 
+μνησθέντες ἐχούσης ἐς ᾿Αθηναίους, τότε Θηβαίων 
+88 
+
+
+BOOK V. 79-81 
+
+
+79. Thus then the Athenians did. But presently 
+the Thebans sent to the god, desiring vengeance on 
+Athens. The Pythian priestess said that from the 
+Thebans themselves there was no vengeance for 
+them; they must lay the matter before the “ many- 
+voiced" and entreat their nearest. So when the 
+enquirers returned an assembly was called and the 
+oracle laid before it; and when the Thebans learnt 
+the message “that they must entreat their nearest," 
+they said when they heard it: “If this be so, our 
+nearest neighbours are the men of Tanagra and 
+Coronea and Thespiae; yet these are ever our com- 
+rades in battle and zealously wage our wars; what 
+need to entreat them? Nay, mayhap the oracle 
+means not this." 
+
+80. Thuswise they reasoned, till at last one 
+understood, and said: * Methinks I perceive what 
+it is that the oracle will have us know. Thebe and 
+Aegina, it is said, were daughters of Asopus and 
+sisters; the gods' answer is, I think, that we should 
+entreat the Aeginetans to be our avengers.” Seeing 
+that there seemed to be no better opinion before 
+them than this, they sent forthwith to entreat thé 
+Aeginetans and invite their aid, such being the 
+oracle's bidding, and the Aeginetans being their 
+nearest. These replied to their demand that they 
+were sending the Sons of Aeacus in aid. 
+
+ιδ]. The Thebans took the field on the strength 
+of their alliance with that House, and were roughly 
+handled by the Athenians; and they sent again, 
+giving back Aeacus and his sons, and asking for the 
+men instead. But the Aeginetans were uplifted by 
+great prosperity, and had in mind an ancient feud 
+with Athens; wherefore now at the entreaty of the 
+
+
+89 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δεηθέντων πόλεμον ἀκήρυκτον ᾿Ἀθηναίοισι ἐπέ- 
+φεοον' ἐπικειμένων γὰρ αὐτῶν Βοιωτοῖσι, ἐπιπλώ- 
+σαντες μακρῆσι νηυσὶ ἐς τὴν ᾿Αττικὴν κατὰ μὲν 
+ἔσυραν (Φάληρον κατὰ δὲ τῆς ἄλλης παραλίης 
+πολλοὺς δήμους, ποιεῦντες δὲ ταῦτα μεγάλως 
+᾿Αθηναίους ἐσικνέοντο. 
+
+82. 'H δὲ ἔχθρη ἡ προοφειλομένη ἐς Αθηναίους 
+ἐκ τῶν Αἰγινητέων ἐγένετο ἐξ ἀρχῆς τοιῆσδε. 
+᾿Επιδαυρίοισι ἡ γῆ καρπὸν οὐδένα ἀνεδίδου. περὶ 
+ταύτης ὧν τῆς συμφορῆς οἱ ᾿Επιδαύριοι ἐχρέωντο 
+ἐν Δελφοῖσι: ἡ δὲ Πυθίη σφέας ἐκέλευε Δαμίης 
+τε καὶ Αὐξησίης ἀγάλματα ἱδρύσασθαι καί. σφι 
+ἱδρυσαμένοισι ἄμεινον συνοίσεσθαι. ἐπειρώτεον 
+ὧν οἱ ᾿Επιδαύριοι κότερα χαλκοῦ ποιέωνται τὰ 
+ἀγάλματα 7 λίθου" 7 δὲ Πυθίη οὐδέτερα τούτων 
+ἔα, ἀλλὰ ξύλου ἡμέρης ἐλαίης. ἐδέοντο ὧν οἱ 
+᾿Επιδαύριοι ᾿Αθηναίων ἐλαίην σφι δοῦναι Tapé- 
+σθαι, i ἱρωτάτας δὴ κείνας νομίζοντες εἶναι. λέγε- 
+ται δὲ καὶ ὡς ἐλαῖαι ἦσαν ἄλλοθι γῆς οὐδαμοῦ 
+κατὰ χρόνον ἐκεῖνον ἢ ἐν ᾿Αθήνῃσι. οἳ δὲ ἐπὶ 
+τοῖσιδε δώσειν ἔφασαν ἐπ᾽ d ἀπάξουσι ἔτεος 
+ἑκάστου τῇ ᾿Αθηναίῃ τε τῇ πολιάδι ἱρὰ καὶ τῷ 
+᾿Ερεχθέι. καταινέσαντες δὲ ἐπὶ τούτοισι οἱ Ἔπι- 
+δα ύριοι τῶν τε ἐδέοντο ἔ ἔτυχον καὶ ἀγάλματα ἐκ 
+τῶν ἐλαιέων τουτέων ποιησάμενοι ἱδρύσαντο" κἀὶ 
+ἥ τε γῆ σφι ἔφερε καρπὸν καὶ ᾿Αθηναίοισι ἐπ- 
+ετέλεον τὰ συνέθεντο. 
+
+83. Τοῦτον ὃ ἔτι τὸν χρόνον καὶ πρὸ τοῦ Αὐγινῆ- 
+ται Ἐπιδαυρίων ἤ ἤκουον τά τε ἄλλα καὶ δίκας δια- 
+Βαίνοντες ἐς Ἠπίδαυρον ἐδίδοσάν τε καὶ ἐλάμβανον 
+
+
+90 
+
+
+BOOK V. 81-83 
+
+
+Thebans, without sending of herald they made war 
+on the Athenians; while these were busied with 
+the Boeotians, they descended on Attica in ships of 
+war, and ravaged Phaleron and many other seaboard 
+townships. By so doing they dealt the Athenians a 
+very shrewd blow. 
+
+82. Now this was the beginning of the Aeginetans' 
+long-standing arrears of enmity against the Athe- 
+nians. The Epidaurians land bore no produce; 
+wherefore they enquired at Delphi concerning this 
+calamity ; and the priestess bade them set up images - 
+of Damia and Auxesia,! saying that if they so did 
+their luck would be better. The Epidaurians then 
+asking further, whether they should make the 
+images of bronze or of stone, the priestess bade 
+them do neither, but make them of the wood of the 
+garden olive, So the men of Epidaurus entreated 
+the Athenians to give them olives for the cutting, 
+supposing the olives there to be the holiest; and 
+indeed it is said that at that time there were no 
+olives anywhere save at Athens. The Athenians 
+consented to give the trees, if the Epidaurians would 
+pay yearly sacred dues to Athene the city's goddess 
+and to Erechtheus. The Epidaurians agreed on this 
+condition, and their request was granted. They set 
+up images made of these olives; and their land 
+brought forth fruit, and they fulfilled their agreement 
+with the Athenians. 
+
+83. Now still at this time, as before it, the 
+Aeginetans were in all matters subject to the 
+Epidaurians, crossing over to Epidaurus and there 
+
+
+1 The name Damia is probably connected with δᾶ( -- γῆ), 
+Earth ; Auxesia clearly with αὐξάνω. They were goddesses 
+of increase and fertility. 
+
+
+9I 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+παρ ἀλλήλων οἱ Αἰγινῆται τὸ δὲ ἀπὸ τοῦδε νέας 
+τε πηξάµενοι καὶ ἀγνωμοσύνῃ χρησάμενοι aT- 
+έστησαν ἀπὸ τῶν Ἐπιδαυρίων. ἅτε δὲ ἐόντες 
+διάφοροι ἐδηλέοντο αὐτούς, ὥστε θαλασσοκρά- 
+τορες ἐόντες, καὶ δὴ καὶ τὰ ἀγάλματα ταῦτα τῆς 
+τε Δαμίης καὶ τῆς AvEnains ὑπαιρέονται αὐτῶν, 
+καί σφεα ἐκόμισάν τε καὶ ἱδρύσαντο τῆς σφετέρης 
+χώρης ἐς τὴν μεσόγαιαν, τῇ Oin μὲν ἐστὶ οὔνομα, 
+στάδια δὲ μάλιστά ky ἀπὸ τῆς πόλιος ὡς εἴκοσι 
+ἀπέχει. ἱδρυσάμενοι δὲ ἐν τούτῳ τῷ χώρῳ 
+θυσίῃσί τε σφέα καὶ χοροῖσι γυναικηίοισι κερτο- 
+μίοισι ἱλάσκοντο, χορηγῶν ἀποδεικνυμένων ἑ έκα- 
+τέρῃ τῶν δαιμόνων δέκα ἀνδρῶν" κακῶς δὲ 
+ἠγόρευον οἱ χοροὶ ἄνδρα μὲν οὐδένα, τὰς δὲ ἐπι- 
+χωρίας γυναῖκας. ἦσαν δὲ καὶ τοῖσι Ἐπιδαυρί- 
+οισι αἱ αὐταὶ ἱρουργίαι' εἰσὶ δέ σφι καὶ ἄρρητοι 
+ἱρουργίαι. 
+
+81. Κλεφθέντων δὲ τῶνδε τῶν ἀγαλμάτων οἱ 
+᾿Επιδαύριοι τοῖσι ᾿Αθηναίοισι τὰ συνέθεντο οὐκ 
+ἐπετέλεον. πέμψαντες δὲ οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι ἐμήνιον 
+τοῖσι ᾿Επιδαυρίοισι" οἳ ; δὲ ἀπέφαινον λόγῳ ὡς οὐκ 
+ἀδικέοιεν' ὃ ὅσον μὲν γὰρ χρὀνον εἶχον τὰ ἀγάλματα 
+ἐν τῇ χώρη, ἐπιτελέειν τὰ συνέθεντο, ἐπεὶ δὲ 
+ἐστερῆσθαι αὐτῶν, οὐ δίκαιον εἶναι ἀποφέρειν ἔ ἔτι, 
+ἀλλὰ τοὺς ἔχοντας αὐτὰ Αἰγινήτας πρήσσεσθαι 
+ἐκέλευον. πρὸς. ταῦτα οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι ἐς Αἴγιναν 
+πέμψαντες à ἀπαίτεον τὰ ἀγάλματα' οἱ δὲ Αἰγινῆ- 
+ται ἔφασαν σφίσι τε καὶ ᾿Αθηναίοισι εἶναι οὐδὲν 
+πρῆγμα. 
+
+85. ᾿Αθηναῖοι μέν νυν λέγουσι μετὰ τὴν amal- 
+τησιν ἀποσταλῆναι τριήρεϊ μιῇ τῶν ἀστῶν τούτους 
+οἳ ἀποπεμφθέντες ἀπὸ τοῦ κοινοῦ καὶ ἀπικόμενοι 
+92 
+
+
+BOOK V. 83-85 
+
+
+getting, and giving one another, satisfaction at law. 
+But from this time they began to build ships, and 
+stubbornly revolted from the Epidaurians ; in which 
+state of enmity, being masters of the sea, they 
+wrought them much hurt, and stole withal their 
+images of Damia and Auxesia, and took these 
+away and set them up in the middle of their 
+own country at a place called Oea, about twenty 
+furlongs distant from their city. Having set them 
+up in this place they sought their favour with 
+sacrifices and choruses of mocking women, ten men 
+being appointed providers of a chorus for each of the 
+deities ; and the choruses aimed their raillery not at 
+any men but at the women of the country. The 
+Epidaurians too had the same rites; and they have 
+certain secret rites as well. 
+
+84. But when these images were stolen, the 
+Epidaurians ceased from fulfilling their agreement 
+with the Athenians, Then the Athenians sent an 
+angry message to the Epidaurians; but these pleaded 
+that they were doing no wrong; “for as long," they 
+said, “as we had the images in our country, we 
+fulfilled our agreement; but now that we are 
+deprived of them, it is not just that we should still 
+be paying; nay, ask your dues of the men of Aegina, 
+who have the images." The Athenians therefore 
+sent to Aegina and demanded that the images be 
+restored ; but the Aeginetans answered that they 
+had nothing to do with the Athenians. 
+
+85, After their demand the Athenians (this is 
+their story) despatched one trireme with certain of 
+their citizens; who, coming as they were sent in the 
+
+
+93 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐς Αἴγιναν τὰ ἀγάλματα ταῦτα ὡς σφετέρων 
+ξύλων ἐόντα ἐπειρῶντο ἐκ τῶν βάθρων ἐξανα- 
+σπᾶν, ἵνα σφέα ἀνακομίσωνται. οὐ δυναμένους 
+δὲ τούτῳ τῷ τρόπῳ αὐτῶν κρατῆσαι, περιβαλόν- 
+τας σχοινία ἕλκειν τὰ ἀγάλματα, καί σφι ἕλκουσι 
+Βροντήν τε καὶ ἅμα τῇ βροντῇ σεισμὸν ἐπιγενέ- 
+σθαι" τοὺς δὲ τριηρίτας τοὺς ἕλκοντας ὑπὸ τού- 
+των ἀλλοφρονῆσαι, παθόντας δὲ τοῦτο κτείνειν 
+ἀλλήλους ἅτε πολεμίους, ἐς ὃ ἐκ πάντων ἕνα 
+λειφθέντα ἀνακομισθῆναι αὐτὸν ἐς Φάληρον. 
+
+80. ᾿Αθηναῖοι μὲν οὕτω γενέσθαι λέγουσι, 
+Αἰγινῆται δὲ οὐ μιῇ νηὶ ἀπικέσθαι Αθηναίους" 
+μίαν μὲν γὰρ καὶ ὀλίγῳ πλεῦνας μιῆς, καὶ εἰ 
+σφίσι μὴ ἔτυχον ἐοῦσαι νέες, ἀπαμύνεσθαι ἂν 
+εὐπετέως: ἀλλὰ πολλῆσι νηυσὶ ἐπιπλέειν σφίσι 
+ἐπὶ τὴν χώρην, αὐτοὶ δέ σφι εἶξαι καὶ οὐ ναυ- 
+μαγῆσαι. οὐκ ἔχουσι δὲ τοῦτο διασημῆναι ἆτρε- 
+κέως, οὔτε εἰ ἥσσονες συγγινωσκόμενοι εἶναι τῇ 
+ναυμαχίῃ κατὰ τοῦτο εἶξαν, οὔτε εἰ βουλόμενοι 
+ποιῆσαι οἷόν τι καὶ ἐποίησαν. ᾿Αθηναίους μέν 
+νυν, ἐπείτε σφι οὐδεὶς ἐς μάχην κατίστατο, 
+ἀποβάντας ἀπὸ τῶν νεῶν τράπεσθαι πρὸς τὰ 
+ἀγάλματα, οὐ δυναμένους δὲ ἀνασπάσαι ἐκ τῶν 
+βάθρων αὐτὰ οὕτω δὴ περιβαλομένους σχοινία 
+ἕλκειν, ἐς οὗ ἑλκόμενα τὰ ἀγάλματα ἀμφότερα 
+τὠυτὸ ποιῆσαι, ἐμοὶ μὲν οὐ πιστὰ λέγοντες, ἄλλῳ 
+δὲ τεῷ" ἐς γούνατα γάρ σφι αὐτὰ πεσεῖν, καὶ τὸν 
+ἀπὸ τούτου χρόνον διατελέειν οὕτω ἔχοντα. 
+᾿Αθηναίους μὲν δὴ ταῦτα ποιέειν: σφέας δὲ 
+Αἰγινῆται λέγουσι πυθομένους τοὺς ᾿Αθηναίους 
+
+
+94 
+
+
+BOOK V, 85-86 
+
+
+name of the whole people to Aegina, essayed to tear 
+the images, as being made of Attic wood, from their 
+bases, that they might carry them away; but when 
+they could not get possession of them in this manner, 
+they fastened the images about with cords and made 
+to drag them away,till while they dragged they were 
+overtaken by a thunderstorm, and an earthquake 
+withal; whereby the trireme's crew that dragged 
+the images were distraught, and in this affliction 
+slew each other for enemies, till at last but one of all 
+was left, who returned back by himself to Phalerum. 
+
+86. This is the Athenian story of the matter; but 
+the Aeginetans say that the Athenians came not in 
+one ship only; “ for," they say, “ even if we had had 
+no ships of our own, we could right easily have 
+defended ourselves against one ship, or a few more ; 
+but the truth is that they descended upon our coasts 
+with many ships, and we yielded to them and made 
+no fight of it at sea." But they can never show 
+with exact plainness whether it was because they 
+confessed themselves to be the weaker at sea-fighting 
+that they yielded, or because they purposed to do 
+somewhat such as in the event they did. The 
+Athenians then (say the Aeginetans), when no man 
+came out to fight with them, disembarked from their 
+ships and set about dealing with the images; and 
+not being able to drag them from the bases they did 
+there and then fasten them about with cords and 
+drag them, till as they were dragged both the images 
+together (and this I myself do not believe, yet others 
+may) fell with the selfsame motion on their knees, 
+and have remained so from that day. Thus, then, 
+did the Athenians; but as for themselves, the 
+Aeginetans say that they learnt that the Athenians 
+
+
+95 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὡς μέλλοιεν ἐπὶ σφέας στρατεύεσθαι, ἑτοίμους 
+᾿Αργείους ποιέεσθαι. ' τούς τε δὴ ᾿Αθηναίους 
+ἀποβεβάναι ἐς τὴν Αὐγιναίην, καὶ ἥκειν βοη- 
+θέοντας σφίσι τοὺς Ap, είους καὶ λαθεῖν τε ἐξ 
+Ἐπιδαύρου διαβάντας ἐς τὴν νῆσον καὶ οὐ προ- 
+ακηκοόσι, τοῖσι ᾿Αθηναίοισι. ἐπιπεσεῖν ὑποταμο- 
+μένους τὸ ἀπὸ τῶν νεῶν, ἅμα τε ἐν τούτῳ τὴν 
+βροντήν τε γενέσθαι καὶ τὸν σεισμὸν αὐτοῖσι. 
+
+8T. Λέγεται μέν νυν ὑπ᾽ ᾿Αργείων τε καὶ Αἰγι- 
+
+νητέων τάδε, ὁμολογέεται δὲ καὶ UT ᾿Αθηναίων 
+ἕνα . μοῦνον τὸν ἀποσωθέντα αὐτῶν ἐς τὴν ᾿Ατ- 
+τικὴν γενέσθαι" πλὴν ᾿Αργεῖοι μὲν λέγουσι αὐτῶν 
+τὸ ᾿Αττικὸν στρατόπεδον διαφθειράντων τὸν ἕνα 
+τοῦτον περιγενέσθαι, ᾿Αθηναῖοι δὲ τοῦ δαιμονίου" 
+περιγενέσθαι μέντοι οὐδὲ τοῦτον τὸν ἕνα, ἀλλ᾽ 
+ἀπολέσθαι τρόπῳ τοιῷδε. κομισθεὶς ἄρα ἐς τὰς 
+᾿Αθήνας ἀπήγγελλε τὸ πάθος" πυθομένας δὲ τὰς 
+γυναῖκας τῶν ἐπ᾽ Αἴγιναν στρατευσαμένων av- 
+δρῶν, δεινόν τι ποιησαμένας κεῖνον μοῦνον ἐξ 
+ἁπάντων σωθῆναι, πέριξ τὸν ἄνθρωπον τοῦτον 
+λαβούσας καὶ κεντεύσας τῇσι περόνῃσι τῶν ἵμα- 
+τίων εἰρωτᾶν ἑκάστην αὐτέων ὅκου εἴη ὁ ἑωυτῆς 
+ἀνήρ. 
+
+38. Καὶ τοῦτον μὲν οὕτω διαφθαρῆναι, 'Αθη. 
+ναίοισι δὲ ἔτι τοῦ πάθεος δεινότερόν τι δόξαι εἶναι 
+τὸ τῶν γυναικῶν ἔργον. ἄλλῳ μὲν δὴ οὐκ ἔχειν 
+ὅτεῳ ζημιώσωσι τὰς γυναῖκας, τὴν δὲ ἐσθῆτα 
+μετέβαλον αὐτέων ἐς τὴν ᾿Ιάδα' ἐφόρεον γὰρ δὴ 
+πρὸ τοῦ αἱ τῶν ᾿Αθηναίων γυναῖκες ἐσθῆτα Δωρί- 
+δα, τῇ Κορινθίῃ παραπλησιωτάτην' μετέβαλον 
+ὧν ἐς τὸν λίνεον κιθῶνα, ἵνα δὴ περόνῃσι μὴ 
+χρέωνται. ἔστι δὲ ἀληθέι λόγῳ χρεωμένοισι οὐκ 
+96 
+
+
+BOOK V. 86-88 
+
+
+were about to make war upon them, and therefore 
+they assured themselves of help from the Argives. 
+So when the Athenians disembarked on the land of 
+Aegina, the Argives came to aid the Aeginetans, 
+crossing over from Epidaurus to the island privily, 
+and then falling upon the Athenians unawares and 
+cutting them off from their ships; and it was at this 
+moment that the thunderstorm came upon them, 
+and the earthquake withal.. 
+
+87. This, then, is the story told by the Argives 
+and Aeginetans, and the Athenians too acknowledge 
+that it wasonly one man of them who came safe back 
+to Attica; but the Argives say that it was they, and 
+the Athenians that it was divine power, that destroyed 
+the Attic army when this one man was saved alive ; 
+albeit even this one (say the Athenians) was not 
+saved alive but perished as here related. It would 
+seem that he made his way to Athens and told of 
+the mishap; and when this was known (it is said) to 
+the wives of the men who had gone to attack Aegina, 
+they were very wroth that he alone should be safe 
+out of all, and they gathered round him and stabbed 
+him with the brooch-pins of their garments, each 
+asking him ** where her man was." 
+
+88. Thus was this man done to death; and this 
+deed of their women seemed {ο the Athenians to 
+be yet more dreadful than their misfortune. They 
+could find, it is said, no other way to punish the 
+women ; but they changed their dress to the Ionian 
+fashion; for till then the Athenian women had 
+worn Dorian dress, very like to the Corinthian ; it 
+was changed, therefore, to the linen tunie, that so 
+they might have no brooch-pins to use. But if 
+the truth be told, this dress is not in its origin 
+
+
+97 
+
+
+VOL. UI, H 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+"las αὕτη ἡ ἐσθὴς τὸ παλαιὸν ἀλλὰ Κάειρα, ἐπεὶ 
+ἥ γε Ελληνικὴ ἐσθὴς πᾶσα ἡ ἀρχαίη τῶν yuvar- 
+κῶν ἡ αὐτὴ ἦν τὴν νῦν Δωρίδα καλέομεν. τοῖσι 
+δὲ ᾿Αργείοισι καὶ τοῖσι Αἰγινήτῃσι καὶ πρὸς ταῦτα 
+ἔτι τόδε ποιῆσαι 1 γόμον εἶναι παρὰ σφίσι ἑκατέ- 
+ροισι τὰς περόνας ἡμιολίας ποιέεσθαι τοῦ τότε 
+κατεστεῶτος .μέτρου, καὶ ἐς τὸ ἱρὸν τῶν θεῶν 
+τουτέων περόνας μάλιστα ἀνατιθέναι τὰς γυναΐ- 
+κας, ᾿Αττικὸν δὲ μήτε τι ἄλλο .προσφέρειν πρὸς 
+τὸ ἱρὸν μήτε κέραμον, ἀλλ᾽ ἐκ .χυτρίδων ἐπι- 
+χωριέων νόμον τὸ λοιπὸν αὐτόθι εἶναι πίνειν. 
+
+89. "A ργείων. μέν νυν καὶ Αἰγινητέων αἱ γυναῖ- 
+κες ἐκ τόσου κατ᾽ ἔριν τὴν ᾿Αθηναίων περόνας ἔτι καὶ 
+ἐς ἐμὲ ἐφόρεον μέζονας ἢ πρὸ τοῦ, τῆς δὲ ἔχθρης 
+τῆς πρὸς Αἰγινήτας ἐξ ᾿Αθηναίων γενομένης ἀρχὴ 
+κατὰ τὰ εἴρηται ἐγένετο. τότε δὲ Θηβαίων ἐπι- 
+καλεομένων, προθύμως τῶν περὶ τὰ ἀγάλματα 
+γενομένων ἀναμιμνησκόμενοι οἱ Αἰγινῆται ἐβοή- 
+θεον τοῖσι Βοιωτοῖσι. Αἰγινῆταί τε δὴ ἐδηίουν 
+τῆς ᾿Αττικῆς τὰ παραθαλάσσια, καὶ ᾿Αθηναίοισι 
+ὁρμημένοισι ἐπ᾿ Αἰγινήτας στρατεύεσθαι ἦλ.θε 
+μαντήιον ἐκ Δελφῶν, ἐπισχόντας ἀπὸ τοῦ Αἰγινη- 
+τέων ἀδικίου τριήκοντα ἔτεα, τῷ ἑνὶ καὶ τριηκο- 
+στῷ Αἰακῷ τέμενος ἀποδέξαντας ἄρχεσθαι τοῦ 
+πρὸς Αἰγινήτας πολέμου, καύ σφι χωρήσειν τὰ 
+βούλονται" ἦν δὲ αὐτίκα ἐπιστρατεύωνται, πολλὰ 
+μὲν σφέας ἐν τῷ μεταξὺ τοῦ χρόνου πείσεσθαι 
+πολλὰ δὲ καὶ ποιήσειν, τέλος μέντοι .καταστρέ- 
+ψεσθαι. ταῦτα ὡς ἀπενειχθέντα ἤκουσαν οἱ 
+᾿Αθηναῖοι, τῷ μὲν Δἰακῷ τέμενος ἀπέδεξαν τοῦτο 
+
+
+1 These words are not intelligible. Perhaps Herodotus 
+wrote ἔτι τάδε ἔδοξε, ποιῆσαι κ.Τ.λ. 
+
+
+98 
+
+
+BOOK V. 88-89 
+
+
+Ionian, but Carian; for in Hellas itself all the 
+women's dress in ancient times was the same as 
+that which we now call Dorian. As for the Argives 
+and Aeginetans, this was the reason of their even 
+making a law for each of their nations that their 
+brooch-pins should be made half as long again as the 
+measure then customary, and that brooch-pins in 
+especial should be dedicated by their women in the 
+temple of those goddesses; and that neither aught 
+else Attic should be brought to the temple, nor 
+earthenware, but that it be the law to drink there 
+from vessels of the country. 
+
+89. So then the women of Argolis and Aegina 
+ever since that day wore brooch-pins longer than 
+before, by reason of the feud with the Athenians, 
+and so they did even to my time; and the enmity 
+of the Athenians against the Aeginetans began as I 
+have told. And now at the Thebans' call the 
+Aeginetans came readily to the aid of the Boeotians, 
+remembering the business of the images. The 
+Aeginetans laying waste the seaboard of Attica, the 
+Athenians were setting out to march against them ; 
+but there came to them an oracle from Delphi bid- 
+ding them to hold their hands for thirty years after 
+the wrong-doing of the Aeginetans, and in the 
+thirty-first to mark out a precinct for Aeacus and 
+begin the war with Aegina; thus should their 
+purpose prosper; but if they sent an army against 
+their enemies forthwith, they should indeed subdue 
+them at the last, but in the meanwhile many should 
+be their sufferings and many too their doings. 
+When the Athenians heard this reported to them, 
+they marked out for Aeacus that precinct which is 
+
+
+99 
+H 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+TÓ νῦν ἐπὶ τῆς ἀγορῆς ἵδρυται, τριήκοντα δὲ ἔτεα 
+οὐκ ἀνέσχοντο ἀκούσαντες ὅκως χρεὸν εἴη ἐπισχεῖν 
+πεπονθότας ὑπ᾽ Αἰγινητέων ἀνάρσια, 
+
+90. Ἐς τιμωρίην δὲ παρασκευα ξομένοισι αὐτοῖσι 
+ἐκ «Λακεδαιμονίων πρῆγμα ἐγειρόμενον ἐμπόδιον 
+ἐγένετο. πυθόμενοι γὰρ Λακεδαιμόνιοι τὰ ἐκ τῶν 
+᾿Αλκμεωνιδέων ἐς τὴν Πυθίην μεμηχανημένα καὶ 
+τὰ ἐκ τῆς Πυθίης ἐπὶ σφέας τε καὶ τοὺς Πεισι- 
+στρατίδας συμφορὴν. ἐποιεῦντο διπλῆν, ὅτι τε 
+ἄνδρας ξείνους. σφίσι. ἐόντας ἐξεληλάκεσαν ἐ ἐκ τῆς 
+ἐκείνων, καὶ ὅτι ταῦτα ποιήσασι χάρις οὐδεμία 
+ἐφαίνετο πρὸς ᾿Αθηναίων. ἔτι τε πρὸς τούτοισι 
+ἐνῆγον σφέας οἱ χρησμοὶ λέγοντες πολλά τε καὶ 
+ἀνάρσια ἔσεσθαι αὐτοῖσι ἐξ ᾿Αθηναίων, τῶν πρό- 
+τερον μὲν ἦσαν ἁδαέες, τότε δὲ Κλεομένεος κομί- 
+σαντος ἐς Σπάρτην ἐξέμαθον. ἐκτήσατο δὲ ὁ 
+Κλεομένης ἐς τῆς ᾿Αθηναίων ἀκροπόλιος τοὺς 
+χρησμούς, τοὺς ἔκτηντο μὲν πρότερον οἱ Meros- 
+στρατίδαι, ἐξελαυνόμενοι δὲ ἔλιπον ἐν τῷ ἱρῷ, 
+καταλειφθέντας δὲ ὁ Κλεομένης ἀνέλαβε. 
+
+91, Τότε δὲ ὡς ἀνέλαβον οἱ Λακεδαιμόνιοι τοὺς 
+χρησμοὺς καὶ τοὺς ᾿Αθηναίους ὦ ὥρων αὐξομένους 
+καὶ οὐδαμῶς é ἑτοίμους ἐόντας πείθεσθαι σφίσι, νόῳ 
+λαθόντες ὡς ἐλεύθερον μὲν ἐὸν τὸ γένος τὸ ᾿Αττι- 
+κὸν ἰσόρροπον ἂν τῷ ἑωυτῶν γίνοιτο, κατεχύμενον 
+δὲ ὑπὸ τυραννίδος ἀσθενὲς καὶ πειθαρχέεσθαι ἕ ἕτοι- 
+μον" μαθόντες δὲ τούτων ἕκαστα μετεπέμποντο 
+Ἱππίην τὸν Πεισιστράτου ἀπὸ Σιγείου τοῦ ἐν 
+Ἑλλησπόντῳ ἐς ὃ καταφεύγουσι οἱ Πεισιστρα- 
+
+ΠῚ Cp. ch. 63. 
+
+
+2 The Pisistratid family appear to have had a special 
+knowledge of current oracles: cp. ch. 93, and VII. 6. 
+
+
+IOO 
+
+
+BOOK V. 89-9: 
+
+
+now set in their market-place ; but they could not 
+stomach the message that they must hold their hand 
+for thirty years, after the foul blow dealt them by 
+the Aeginetans. 
+
+90. But as they were making ready for vengeance 
+a matter hindered them which took its rise in Lace- 
+daemon. For when the Lacedaemonians learnt ot 
+the plot of the Alemaeonids with the Pythian 
+priestess ! and of her plot against themselves and the 
+Pisistratids, they were very wroth for a double reason, 
+for that they had driven their own guests and friends 
+from the country they dwelt in, and that the Athe- 
+nians showed them no thankfulness for their so doing. 
+Furthermore, they were moved by the oracles? which 
+foretold that many deeds of enmity would be done 
+against them by the Athenians; of which oracles 
+they had till now no knowledge; but now Cleomenes 
+had brought them to Sparta, and the Lacedae- 
+monians learnt their content. Cleomenes possessed 
+himself of the oracles from the Athenian acropolis; 
+the Pisistratids had possessed them till then, but 
+when they were driven out they left them in the 
+temple, and being left behind they were regained 
+by Cleomenes. 
+
+91. And now the Lacedaemonians, when they 
+regained the oracles and saw the Athenians increas- 
+ing in power and in nowise ready to obey them, and 
+bethought them that were the Attic race free it 
+would be a match for their own, but were it held 
+down under despotism it would be weak and ready 
+to serve a master,—perceiving all this, they sent to 
+bring Pisistratus' son Hippias from Sigeum on the 
+Hellespont, the Pisistratids' place of refuge; and 
+
+
+IOI 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τίδαι. ἐπείτε δέ σφι Ἱππίης καλεύµενος ἧκε, 
+μεταπεμψάμενοι καὶ τῶν ἄλλων συμμάχων ἀγγέ- 
+λους ἔλεγόν σφι Σπαρτιῆται: τάδε. "t "Άνδρες σύμ- 
+μαχοι, συγγινώσκομεν αὐτοῖσι ἡμῖν οὐ ποιήσασι 
+ὀρθῶς: ἐπαερθέντες γὰρ κιβδήλοισι μαντηίοισι 
+ἄνδρας ξείνους ἐόντας ἡμῖν τὰ μάλιστα καὶ áva- 
+δεκομένους ὑποχειρίας παρέξειν τὰς ᾿Αθήνας, τού- 
+τους ἐκ τῆς πατρίδος ἐξηλάσαμεν, καὶ ἔπειτα 
+ποιήσαντες ταῦτα δήμῳ ἀχαρίστῳ παρεδώκαμεν 
+τὴν πόλιν" ὃς ἐπείτε δι ἡμέας ἐλευθερωθεὶς d av- 
+έκυψε, ἡ ἡμέας μὲν καὶ τὸν βασιλέα ἡμέων περι- 
+υβρίσας ἐξέβαλε, δόξαν δὲ φύσας αὐξάνεται, @ ὥστε 
+ἐκμεμαθήκασι μάλιστα μὲν οἱ περίοικοι αὐτῶν 
+Βοιωτοὶ καὶ Χαλκιδέες, τάχα δέ τις καὶ ἄλλος 
+ἐκμαθήσεται ἁμαρτών. ἐπείτε δὲ ἐκεῖνα ποιή- 
+σαντες ἡμάρτομεν, νῦν πειρησόμεθα σφέας ἅμα 
+ὑμῖν ἀπικόμενοι τίσασθαι: αὐτοῦ γὰρ τούτου 
+εἵνεκεν τόνδε τε Ἱππίην μετεπεμψάμεθα καὶ 
+ὑμέας ἀπὸ τῶν πολίων, ἵνα κοινῷ τε λόγῳ καὶ 
+κοινῷ στόλῳ ἐσαγαγόντες αὐτὸν ἐς τὰς ᾿Αθήνας 
+ἀποδῶμεν τὰ καὶ ἀπειλόμεθα.” 
+
+92. Οἱ μὲν ταῦτα ἔλεγον, τῶν δὲ συμμάχων τὸ 
+πλῆθος οὐκ ἐνεδέκετο τοὺς λόγους. οἱ μέν νυν 
+ἄλλοι ἡσυχίην ἦγον, Κορίνθιος δὲ Σωκλέης ἔλεξε 
+τάδε. “H δὴ ὅ ὅ τε οὐρανὸς ἔνερθε ἔ ἔσται τῆς γῆς 
+καὶ ἡ γη μετέωρος ὑπὲρ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ, καὶ ἄνθρωποι 
+νομὸν ἐν θαλάσσῃ ἕξουσι καὶ ἰχθύες τὸν πρότερον 
+ἄνθρωποι, 6 ὅτε γε ὑμεῖς e Λακεδαιμόνιοι i ἰσοκρατίας 
+καταλύοντες τυραννίδας ἐς τὰς πόλις κατάγειν 
+παρασκενάξεσθε, τοῦ οὔτε ἀδικώτερον ἐστὶ οὐδὲν 
+κατ᾽ ἀνθρώπους οὔτε μιαιφονώτερον. εἰ γὰρ δὴ 
+τοῦτό γε δοκέει ὑμῖν εἶναι χρηστὸν ὥστε τυραν- 
+102 
+
+
+BOOK V. 91-92 
+
+
+Hippias coming at their call, the Spartans sent for 
+envoys from the rest of their allies, and thus bespoke 
+them: “Sirs, our allies, we do acknowledge that we 
+have done wrongly ; for, befooled by lying divinations, 
+we drove from their native land men that were our 
+close friends and promised to make Athens subject 
+to us, and presently having so done we delivered 
+that city over to a thankless commonalty ; which had 
+no sooner lifted up its head in the freedom which we 
+gave it, than it insolently cast out us and our king, 
+and now has bred a spirit of pride and waxes in 
+power; insomuch that their neighbours of Boeotia 
+and Chalcis have especial cause to know it, and 
+others too are like to know their error anon. But 
+since we erred in doing that which we did, we will 
+now essay with your aid to be avenged of them; for 
+it is on this account and no other that we have sent 
+for this Hippias whom you see and have brought you 
+from your cities, that uniting our counsels and our 
+power we may bring him to Athens and restore that 
+which we took away.” 
+
+92. Thus spoke the Lacedaemonians, but their 
+words were ill received by the greater part of their 
+allies. The rest then keeping silence, Socles, a 
+Corinthian, said : ** Verily the heaven shall be beneath 
+the earth and the earth aloft above the heaven, and 
+menu shall dwell in the sea and fishes where men 
+did dwell before, now that you, Lacedaemonians ! are 
+destroying the rule of equals and making ready to 
+bring back despotism into the cities—despotism, a 
+thing as unrighteous and bloodthirsty as aught on 
+this earth. For if indeed this seems to you to be a 
+good thing, that the cities be ruled by despots, do 
+
+
+103 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+νεύεσθαι τὰς πόλις, αὐτοὶ πρῶτοι τύραννον κατα- 
+στησάμενοι παρὰ σφίσι. αὐτοῖσι οὕτω καὶ τοῖσι 
+ἄλλοισι δίξησθε κατιστάναι" νῦν δὲ αὐτοὶ τυράν- 
+νων ἄπειροι ἐόντες, καὶ φυλάσσοντες τοῦτο δεινό- 
+τατα ἐν τῇ Σπάρτῃ μὴ γενέσθαι, παραχρᾶσθε ἐ ἐς 
+τοὺς συμμάχους. εἰ δὲ αὐτοῦ ἔμπειροι ἔ ἔατε κατά 
+περ ἡμεῖς, εἶχετε ἂν περὶ αὐτοῦ γνώμας ἀμείνονας 
+συμβαλέσθαι ἤ TEP νῦν. 
+
+Κορινθίοισι γὰρ ἦν. πόλιος κατάστασις τοιήδε' 
+ἦν ὀλιγαρχίη, καὶ οὗτοι Βακχιάδαι καλεόμενοι 
+ἔνεμον τὴν πόλιν, ἐδίδοσαν δὲ καὶ ἤγοντο ἐξ 
+ἀλλήλων. ᾽Αμϕίονι δὲ ἐόντι τούτων τῶν ἀνδρῶν 
+γίνεται θυγάτηρ Kora" οὔνομα δέ οἱ ἣν Λάβδα. 
+ταύτην Βακχιαδέων γὰρ οὐδεὶς ἤθελε γῆμαι, ἴσχει 
+᾿Βετίων ὁ ὁ ᾿Ιὑχεκράτεος, δήμου μὲν ἐὼν ἐκ Πέτρης, 
+ἀτὰρ τὰ ἀνέκαθεν Λαπίθης τε καὶ Καινείδης. ἐκ 
+δέ οἱ ταύτης τῆς γυναικὸς οὐδ᾽ ἐξ ἄλλης παῖδες 
+ἐγίνοντο. - ἐστάλη ὧν ἐς Δελφοὺς περὶ γόνου. 
+ἐσιόντα δὲ αὐτὸν ἰθέως ἡ ΠΠυθίη προσαγορεύει 
+τοῖσιδε τοῖσι ἔπεσι. 
+
+
+, / y - / / 37 
+
+Ηετίων, οὔτις σε τίει πολύτιτον ἐόντα. , 
+Λάβδα κύει, τέξει δ᾽ ὁλοοίτροχον' ἐν δὲ πεσεῖται 
+ἀνδράσι μουνάρχοισι, δικαιώσει δὲ Κόρινθον. 
+
+
+ταῦτα χρησθέντα τῷ ᾿Ηετίωνι ἐξαγγέλλεταί κως 
+τοῖσι Βακχιάδῃσι, τοῖσι τὸ μὲν πρότερον γενό- 
+μενον χρηστήριον ἐς Κόρινθον ἦν ἄσημον, φέρον 
+τε ἐς τὠυτὸ καὶ τὸ τοῦ Ηετίωνος καὶ λέγον ὧδε. 
+
+
+1 Because (according to the Etymologicum Magnum) the 
+** outward distortion of the feet ” resembled the letter A. 
+
+
+104 
+
+
+BOOK V. g2 
+
+
+you yourselves first set up a despot among yourselves 
+and then seek to set up such for the rest; but now, 
+having never made trial of despots, and taking most 
+careful heed that none shall arise at Sparta, you deal 
+wrongfully with your allies. But had you such 
+experience of that thing as we have, you would be 
+sager advisers concerning it than you are now. 
+
+* For the Corinthian State was ordered in such 
+manner as I will show. The Few ruled; these few, 
+called Bacchiadae, held sway in the city, marrying 
+and giving in marriage among themselves. Now 
+Amphion, one of these men, had a lame daughter, 
+whose name was Labda.! Seeing that none of the 
+Bacchiadae would marry her, she was wedded to 
+Eetion son of Echecrates, of the township of Petra, a 
+Lapith by lineage, of the posterity of Caeneus. No 
+sons being born to him by this wife or any other, he 
+set out to Delphi to enquire concerning issue; and 
+straightway as he entered the Pythian priestess 
+spoke these verses to him: 
+
+
+Eetion, yet high honour is thine, though honour'd 
+thou art not. 
+
+Labda conceiveth anon; and a rolling rock she 
+shall bear thee, — 
+
+Fated on princes to fall, and execute justice on 
+Corinth. 
+
+
+This oracle given to Eetion was in some wise made 
+known to the Bacchiadae, by whom the former 
+oracle sent to Corinth was not understood, albeit its 
+meaning was the same as the meaning of the oracle 
+of Eetion; it was this: 
+
+
+τος 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+αἰετὸς ἐν πέτρῃσι κύει, τέξει δὲ λέοντα 
+
+καρτερὸν ὠμηστήν'. πολλῶν Ò ὑπὸ γούνατα 
+λύσει. 
+
+ταῦτά νυν ev Φφράξεσθε, Κορίνθιοι, of περὶ 
+καλήν 
+
+Πειρήνην οἰκεῖτε καὶ ὀφρυόεντα Κόρινθον. 
+
+
+τοῦτο μὲν δὴ τοῖσι Βακχιάδῃσι πρότερον γενό- 
+μενον ἣν ἀτέκμαρτον' τότε δὲ τὸ ᾿Ηετίωνι γενόμε- 
+νον ὡς ἐπύθοντο, αὐτίκα καὶ τὸ πρότερον συνῆκαν 
+ἐὸν συνῳδὸν τῷ ᾿Ηετίωνος. συνέντες δὲ καὶ τοῦτο 
+5 , e / »n/ . lA 5 / 
+εἶχον ἐν ἡσυχίη, ἐθέλοντες τὸν μέλλοντα Ἠετίωνι 
+/ / ^ e 3 » e . 
+γίνεσθαι γόνον διαφθεῖραι. ὡς ὃ᾽ ἔτεκε ἡ γυνὴ 
+τάχιστα, πέμπουσι σφέων αὐτῶν δέκα ἐς τὸν 
+δῆμον ἐν τῷ κατοίκητο ὁ ᾿Ηετίων ἀποκτενέοντας 
+\ / , / \ . 3 M / 
+τὸ παιδίον. ἀπικόμενοι δὲ οὗτοι ἐς τὴν Πέτρην 
+. , , M , M M , / 
+καὶ παρελθόντες ἐς τὴν αὐλὴν τὴν ᾿Ηετίωνος 
+vy N / e \ , , ^ δολ ^ 
+αἴτεον τὸ παιδίον: ἡ δὲ Λάβδα εἰδυῖά τε οὐδὲν τῶν 
+εἵνεκα ἐκεῖνοι ἀπικοίατο, καὶ δοκέουσα σφέας 
+φιλοφροσύνης τοῦ πατρὸς εἵνεκα αἰτέειν, φέρουσα 
+ἐνεχείρισε αὐτῶν ἑνί. τοῖσι δὲ ἄρα ἐβεβούλευτο 
+κατ ὁδὸν τὸν πρῶτον αὐτῶν λαβόντα τὸ παιδίον 
+προσουδίσαι. ἐπεὶ ὧν ἔδωκε φέρουσα 7) Λάβδα, 
+τὸν λαβόντα τῶν ἀνδρῶν θείη τύχῃ. προσεγέλασε 
+τὸ παιδίον, καὶ τὸν φρασθέντα τοῦτο οἶκτός τις 
+ἴσχει ἀποκτεῖναι, κατοικτείρας δὲ παραδιδοῖ τῷ 
+δευτέρῳ, ὃ ὃ δὲ τῷ τρίτῳ. οὕτω δὴ διεξῆλθε διὰ 
+πάντων τῶν δέκα παραδιδόμενον, οὐδενὸς βουλο- 
+μένου διεργάσασθαι. ἀποδόντες ὧν ὀπίσω τῇ 
+τεκούσῃ τὸ παιδίον καὶ ἐξελθόντες ἔξω, ἑστεῶτες 
+1ο6 
+
+
+BOOK V. 92 
+
+
+Lo, where the eagle's mate conceives in the rocks, 
+and a lion 
+
+Mighty and fierce shall be born ; full many a knee 
+shall he loosen. 
+
+Wherefore I bid you beware, ye Corinthian folk, 
+that inhabit 
+
+Nigh Pirene fair and the heights o'erhanging of 
+Corinth. 
+
+
+This oracle, formerly given to the Bacchiadae, was 
+past their interpretation; but now, when they 
+learnt of that one which was given to Eetion, 
+straightway they understood that the former 
+accorded with the oracle of Eetion; and under- 
+standing this prophecy too they sat still, pur- 
+posing to destroy whatever should be born to 
+Eetion. Then, as soon as his wife was delivered, 
+they sent ten men of their clan to the township 
+where Eetion dwelt, to kill the child. These men 
+came to Petra and passing into Eetion's courtyard 
+asked for the child ; and Labda, knowing nothing of 
+the purpose of their coming, and thinking that they 
+asked out of friendliness to the child's father, 
+brought it and gave it into the hands of one of 
+them. Now they had planned on their way (as 
+the story goes) that the first of them who received 
+the child should dash it to the ground. So then 
+when Labda brought and gave the child, by heaven's 
+providence it smiled at the man who took it, and he 
+saw that, and compassion forbade him to kill it, and 
+in that compassion he delivered it to a second, and 
+he again to a third ; and thus it passed from hand to 
+hand to each of the ten, for none would make an end 
+of it. Sothey gave the child back toits mother and 
+
+
+107 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐπὶ τῶν θυρέων ἀλλήλων ἅπτοντο καταιτιώμενοι, 
+καὶ μάλιστα τοῦ πρώτου λαβόντος, ὅτι οὐκ 
+ἐποίησε κατὰ τὰ δεδογμένα, € ἐς ὃ δή σφι χρόνου 
+ἐγγινομένου ἔδοξε αὖτις παρελθόντας πάντας τοῦ 
+φόνου μετίσχειν. (δ) ἔδει δὲ ἐκ τοῦ ᾿Ἠετίωνος 
+γόνου Κορίνθῳ. κακὰ ἀναβλαστεῖν. ἡ Λάβδα 
+γὰρ πάντα ταῦτα ἤκουε ἑστεῶσα πρὸς αὐτῇσι 
+τῇσι θύρῃσι: δείσασα δὲ μή σφι μεταδόξῃ καὶ 
+τὸ δεύτερον λαβόντες τὸ παιδίον ἀποκτείνωσι, 
+φέρουσα κατακρύπτει ἐς τὸ ἀφραστότατόν οἱ 
+ἐφαίνετο εἶναι, ἐς κυψέλην, ἐπισταμένη ws εὖ 
+ὑποστρέψαντες ἐς ζήτησιν ἀπικνεοίατο πάντα 
+ἐρευνήσειν μέλλοιεν: τὰ δὴ. καὶ ἐγίνετο. ἐλθοῦσι 
+δὲ καὶ διξημένοισι αὐτοῖσι ὡς οὐκ ἐφαίνετο, ἐδόκεε 
+ἀπαλλάσσεσθαι καὶ λέγειν πρὸς τοὺς ἀποπέμ- 
+ψαντας ὡς πάντα ποιήσειαν τὰ ἐκεῖνοι ἐνετεί- 
+λαντο. οἳ μὲν δὴ ἀπελθόντες ἔλεγον ταῦτα. 
+᾿Ηετίωνι δὲ μετὰ ταῦτα ὁ παῖς ηὐξάνετο, καί οἱ 
+διαφυγόντι τοῦτον τὸν κίνδυνον à ἀπὸ τῆς κυψέλης 
+ἐπωνυμίην Κύψελος οὔνομα ἐτέθη. ἀνδρωθέντι 
+δὲ καὶ μαντευομένῳ Κυψέλῳ ἐγένετο ἀμφιδέξιον 
+χρηστήριον ἐν Δελφοῖσι, τῷ πίσυνος γενόμενος 
+το οι τε καὶ ἔσχε Κόρινθον. ὁ δὲ χρησμὸς 
+ὅδε ἣν. 
+
+
+v . $3 ^ ^ $ AN / 3 / 
+
+ὄλβιος οὗτος ἀνὴρ ὃς ἐμὸν δόμον ἐσκαταβαίνει, 
+Κύψελος ᾿Ηετίδης, βασιλεὺς κλειτοῖο Κορίνθου 
+αὐτὸς καὶ παῖδες, παίδων γε μὲν οὐκέτι παῖδες. 
+
+
+τὸ μὲν δὴ χρηστήριον τοῦτο ἦν, τυραννεύσας δὲ ὁ 
+Κύψελος τοιοῦτος δή τις ἀνὴρ ἐγένετο" πολλοὺς 
+μὲν Κορινθίων ἐδίωξε, πολλοὺς δὲ χρημάτων 
+
+
+108 
+
+
+BOOK V. 92 
+
+
+went out, and stood before the door reproaching 
+and upbraiding one another, but chiefly him who 
+had first received it, for that he had not done 
+according to their agreement; till as time passed 
+they had a mind to go in again and all have a hand 
+in the killing. But it was written that Eetion’s 
+offspring should be the source of ills for Corinth. 
+For Labda heard all this where she stood close to 
+the very door; and she feared lest they should 
+change their minds and again take the child, and 
+kill it; wherefore she bore it away and hid it where 
+she thought it would be hardest to find, in a chest ; 
+for she knew that if they returned and set about 
+searching they would seek in every place; which 
+they did. They came and sought, but not finding 
+they resolved to go their ways and say to those that 
+sent them that they had done all their bidding. So 
+they went away and said this. But Eetion's son 
+presently grew, and for his escape from that danger 
+he was called Cypselus, after the chest. When he 
+had come to man’s estate, and was seeking a divi- 
+nation, there was given him at Delphi an oracle of 
+double meaning, trusting wherein he grasped at 
+Corinth and won it. This was the oracle: 
+
+
+Happy I ween is the man who cometh adown to 
+my temple, . 
+
+Cypselus Eetides, great king of Corinth renownéd, 
+
+Happy himself and his sons; yet his son's sons 
+shall not be happy. 
+
+
+Such was the oracle. But Cypselus, having gained 
+despotic power, bore himself in this wise: many 
+Corinthians he banished, many he robbed of their 
+
+
+109 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἀπεστέρησε, πολλῷ δέ τι πλείστους τῆς ψυχῆς. 
+ἄρξαντος δὲ τούτου ἐπὶ τριήκοντα ἔτεα καὶ 
+διαπλέξαντος τὸν βίον εὖ, διάδοχός οἱ τῆς τυραν- 
+vidos 0 παῖς Περίανδρος γίνεται. ὁ τοίνυν Hepi- 
+ἄνδρος κατ᾽ ἀρχὰς μὲν ἦν ἠπιώτερος τοῦ πατρός, 
+ἐπείτε δὲ ὡμίλησε δι᾽ ἀγγέλων Θρασυβούλῳ τῷ 
+Μιλήτου τυράννῳ, πολλῷ ἔτι ἐγένετο Κυψέλου 
+μιαιφονώτερος. πέμψας γὰρ παρὰ Θρασύβουλον 
+κήρυκα ἐπυνθάνετο ὅ ὅντινα ἂν τρόπον ἀσφαλέ- 
+στατον καταστησάμενος τῶν πρηγμάτων rá- 
+λιστα τὴν πόλιν «ἐπιτροπεύοι. Θρασύβουλος δὲ 
+τὸν ἐλθόντα παρὰ τοῦ Περιάνδρου ἐξῆγε ἔξω τοῦ 
+ἄστεος, ἐσβὰς δὲ ἐς ἄρουραν ἐσπαρμένην ἅμα τε 
+διεξήιε τὸ λήιον ἐπειρωτῶν τε καὶ ἀναποδίζων τὸν 
+κήρυκα κατὰ τὴν ἀπὸ Κορίνθου. ἄπιξιν, καὶ ἐκό- 
+λουε αἰεὶ ὅκως τινὰ ἴδοι τῶν ἀσταχύων ὑπερέ- 
+χοντα, κολούων δὲ ἔρριπτε, ἐς ὃ τοῦ ληίου. τὸ 
+κάλλιστόν τε καὶ βαθύτατον διέφθειρε τρόπῳ 
+τοιούτῳ' διεξελθὼν δὲ τὸ χωρίον καὶ ὑποθέμενος 
+ἔπος οὐδὲν ἆ ἀποπέμπει τὸν κήρυκα. νοστήσαντος 
+δὲ τοῦ κήρυκος ἐς τὴν Κόρινθον ἦν πρόθυμος 
+πυνθάνεσθαι τὴν ὑποθήκην o Περίανδρος" ὃ δὲ 
+οὐδέν οἱ ἔφη Θρασύβουλον ὑποθέσθαι, θωμάξειν 
+τε αὐτοῦ παρ᾽ οἷόν μιν ἄνδρα ἀποπέμψειε, ὡς 
+παραπλῆγά τε καὶ τῶν ἑωυτοῦ σινάµωρον, aT- 
+ηγεόµενος τά περ πρὸς Θρασυβούλου, ὀπώπεε. 
+Περίανδρος δὲ συνιεὶς τὸ ποιηθὲν καὶ vog ἴσχων 
+ὥς οἱ ὑπετίθετο Θρασύβουλος τοὺς ὑπειρόχους 
+τῶν ἀστῶν φονεύειν, ἐνθαῦτα δὴ πᾶσαν κακότητα 
+ἐξέ αινε ἐς τοὺς πολιήτας. ὅσα γὰρ Κύψελος 
+ἀπέλιπε κτείνων τε καὶ διώκων, πα. σφέα 
+
+
+IIO 
+
+
+BOOK V. 92 
+
+
+goods, and by far the most of their lives. He 
+reigned for thirty years! and made a good ending 
+of his life; and hisson Periander succeeded to his 
+despotic power. Now Periander at the first was of 
+milder mood than his father; but after he had held 
+converse by his messengers with Thrasybulus the 
+despot of Miletus, he became much more blood- 
+. thirsty than Cypselus. For he sent a herald. to 
+Thrasybulus and enquired how he should most 
+safely so order all matters as best to govern his 
+city. Thrasybulus led the man who had come 
+from Periander outside the town, and entered into 
+a sown field; where, while he walked through 
+the corn and plied the herald with still-repeated 
+questions anent his coming from Corinth, he would 
+ever cut off the tallest that he saw of the stalks, and 
+cast away what he cut off, till by so doing he had 
+destroyed the best and richest of the crop; then, 
+having passed through the place and spoken no 
+word of counsel, he sent the herald away. When 
+the herald returned to Corinth, Periander was 
+desirous to hear what counsel he brought; but the 
+man said that Thrasybulus had given him none, 
+‘and that is a strange man,’ quoth he, ‘to whom you 
+sent me; for he is a madman and a destroyer of 
+his own possessions, telling Periander what he had 
+seen Thrasybulus do. But Periander understood 
+what had been done, and perceived that Thrasybulus 
+had counselled him to slay those of his townsmen 
+who stood highest; and with that he began to deal 
+very evilly with his citizens. For whatever act of 
+slaughter or banishment Cypselus had left undone, 
+that did Periander bring to accomplishment ; and in 
+
+
+1 655 to 625. 
+III 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἀπετέλεσε, μιῇ δὲ ἡμέρῃ ἀπέδυσε πάσας τὰς 
+Κορινθίων γυναῖκας διὰ τὴν ἑωυτοῦ γυναῖκα 
+Μέλισσαν. πέμψαντι γάρ οἱ ἐς Θεσπρωτοὺς 
+ἐπ᾽ ᾿Αχέροντα ποταμὸν ἀγγέλους ἐπὶ τὸ vervo- 
+μαντήιον παρακαταθήκης πέρι ξεινικῆς οὔτε 
+σημανέειν ἔφη 7) Μέλισσα ἐπιφανεῖσα οὔτε κατ- 
+ερέειν ἐν τῷ κέεται χώρῳ ἡ παρακαταθήκη" Ὅλων 
+TE yàp καὶ εἶναι γυμνή" τῶν γάρ οὐ συγκατέ θαψε 
+ἑματίων ὄφελος εἶναι οὐδὲν οὐ κατακανθέντων' 
+μαρτύριον δέ οὗ εἶναι ὡς ἀληθέα ταῦτα λέγει, ὅτι 
+ἐπὶ ψυχρὸν τὸν ὑπνὸν Περίανδρος τοὺς ἄρτους 
+ἐπέβαλε. ταῦτα. δὲ ὡς ὀπίσω ἀπηγγέλθη τῷ 
+Περιάνδρῳ, πιστὸν γάρ. οὗ ἦν τὸ συμβόλαιον ὃς 
+νεκρῷ ἐούσῃ Μελίσσῃ ἐμίγη, ἰθέως δὴ μετὰ τὴν 
+ἀγγελίην κήρυγμα ἐποιήσατο ἐς τὸ "Ηραιον ἐξιέναι 
+πάσας τὰς Κορινθίων. γυναῖκας. at μὲν δὴ ὡς ἐς 
+ὁρτὴν ἤισαν κόσμῳ τῷ καλλίστῳ χρεώµεναι, ὃ δ᾽ 
+ὑποστήσας τοὺς δορυφόρους ἀπέδυσε σφέας πάσας 
+ὁμοίως, τάς τε ἐλευθέρας καὶ τὰς ἀμφιπόλους, 
+συμφορήσας δὲ ἐς ὄρυγμα Μελίσσῃ ἐπευχόμενος 
+κατέκαιε. ταῦτα δέ οἱ ποιήσαντι καὶ τὸ δεύτερον 
+πέμψαντι ἔφρασε τὸ εἴδωλον τὸ Μελίσσης ἐς τὸν 
+κατέθηκε χῶρον τοῦ ξείνου τὴν παρακαταθήκην. 
+Τοιοῦτο μὲν ὑμῖν ἐστὶ ἡ Tupa ννίς, ὦ Λακεδαιμόνιοι, 
+καὶ τοιούτων ἔργων. ἡμέας δὲ τοὺς Κορωθίους 
+τότε αὐτίκα θῶμα μέγα εἶχε ὅτε ὑμέας εἴδομεν 
+μεταπεμπομένους Ἱππίην, νῦν τε δὴ καὶ μεξόνως 
+θωμάξομεν λέγοντας ταῦτα, ἐπιμαρτυρόμεθά τε 
+ἐπικαλεόμενοι ὑμῖν θεοὺς τοὺς “Ελληνίους μὴ 
+κατιστάναι τυραννίδας ἐς τὰς πόλις. οὔκων 
+παύσεσθε ἀλλὰ πειρήσεσθε παρὰ τὸ δίκαιον 
+
+
+1 Killed by her husband, perhaps accidentally ; cp. III. 50. 
+112 
+
+
+BOOK V. 92 
+
+
+a single day he stripped all the women of Corinth 
+naked, by reason of his own wife Melissa. For he 
+had sent messengcrs to the Oracle of the Dead on 
+the river Acheron in Thesprotia to enquire con- 
+cerning a deposit that a friend had left; but the 
+apparition of Melissa said that she would tell him 
+nought, nor reveal where the deposit lay; for she 
+was cold (she said) and naked; for the raiment 
+Periander had buried with her had never been 
+burnt, and availed her nothing; and let this (said 
+she) be her witness that she spoke truth—that it 
+was a cold oven whereinto Periander had cast his 
+loaves. When this message was brought back to 
+Periander (for he had had intercourse with the dead 
+body of Melissa and knew her token for true), 
+immediately after the message he made a pro- 
+clamation that all the Corinthian women should 
+come out into the temple of Here. So they came 
+out as to a festival, wearing their fairest adornment ; 
+and Periander set his guards there and stripped 
+them all alike, ladies and serving-women, and heaped 
+all the garments in a pit, where he burnt them, 
+making prayers to Melissa the while. When he 
+had so done and sent a second message, the ghost 
+of Melissa told^ him the place where the deposit of 
+the friend had been laid. 
+
+* Know then, ye Lacedaemonians, that such a 
+thing is despotism, and such are its deeds. We of 
+Corinth did then greatly marvel when we saw that 
+you were sending for Hippias; and now we marvel 
+yet more at your speaking thus; and we entreat you 
+earnestly in the name of the gods of Hellas not to 
+establish despotism in the cities. But if you will 
+not cease from so doing, and will unrighteously essay 
+
+
+113 
+VOL. III. I 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+κατάγοντες Ἱππίην" ἴστε ὑμῖν Κορινθίους γε ov 
+συναινέοντας.᾽ 
+
+98. Σωκλέης μὲν ἀπὸ Κορίνθου πρεσβεύων ἔλεξε 
+τάδε, Ἱππίης δὲ αὐτὸν ἀμείβετο τοὺς αὐτοὺς TL- 
+καλέσας θεοὺς ἐκείνῳ, ἢ μὲν Κορινθίους μάλιστα 
+πάντων ἐπιποθήσειν Πεισιστρατίδας, ὅταν σφι 
+ἥκωσι ἡμέραι αἱ κύριαι ἀνιᾶσθαι ὑπ᾽ ᾿Αθηναίων. 
+Ἱππίης μὲν τούτοισι ἀμείψατο οἷα τοὺς χρησμοὺς 
+ἀτρεκέστατα ἀνδρῶν ἐξεπιστάμενος: οἱ δὲ λοιποὶ 
+τῶν συμμάχων τέως μὲν εἶχον ἐν ἡσυχίῃ σφέας 
+αὐτούς, -ἐπείτε δὲ Σωκλέος ἢ ἤκουσαν εἴπαντος έλευ- 
+θέρως, ἅπας τις αὐτῶν φωνὴν ῥήξας αἱρέετο τοῦ 
+Κορινθίου τὴν γνώμην, Λακεδαιμονίοισί τε ἐπ- 
+εµαρτυρέοντο μὴ ποιέειν μηδὲν νεώτερον περὶ 
+πόλιν Ἑλλάδα. 
+
+94. Οὕτω μὲν τοῦτο ἐπαύσθη. Ἱππίῃ δὲ 
+ἐνθεῦτεν ἀπελαυνομένῳ ἐδίδου μὲν ᾽Αμύντης ὁ Μα- 
+κεδόνων βασιλεὺς ᾿Ανθεμοῦντα, ἐδίδοσαν δὲ Θεσ- 
+σαλοὶ Ἰωλκόν. ὃ δὲ τούτων μὲν οὐδέτερα αἱρέετο, 
+ἀνεχώρεε. δὲ ὁ ὀπίσω ἐς Σίγειον, τὸ εἷλε Πεισίστρα- 
+τος αἰχμῇ παρὰ Μυτιληναίων, κρατήσας δὲ αὐτοῦ 
+κατέστησε τύραννον εἶναι παῖδα τὸν ἑωυτοῦ 
+νόθον ' Ηγησίστρατον, γεγονότα ἐξ. ᾿Αργείῆς γυναι- 
+KOS, ὃς οὐκ- ἀμαχητὶ εἶχε τὰ παρέλαβε παρὰ 
+Πεισιστράτου. ἐπολέμεον γὰρ ἔκ τε ᾿Αχιλληΐου 
+πόλιος ὁρμώμενοι καὶ Σιγείου ἐπὶ χρόνον συχνὸν 
+Μυτιληναῖοί τε καὶ ᾿Αθηναῖοι, οἳ μὲν ἀπαιτέοντες 
+τὴν χώρην, ᾿Αθηναῖοι δὲ οὔτε συγγινωσκόμενοι 
+ἀποδεικνύντες τε λόγῳ οὐδὲν μᾶλλον Αἰολεῦσι 
+μετεὸν͵ τῆς Ἰλιάδος χώρης ἢ οὐ καὶ σφίσι καὶ 
+τοῖσι ἄλλοισι, ὅ ὅσοι Ἑλλήνων συνεπρήξαντο Μενέ- 
+Acw τὰς ' EXévgs à ἁρπαγάς. 
+
+
+II4 
+
+
+BOOK V. 92-94 
+
+
+to bring Hippias back, then be it known to you that 
+the Corinthians for their part consent not thereto.” 
+
+93. Thus spoke Socles, the envoy from Corinth ; 
+Hippias answered him, calling the same gods as 
+Socles had invoked to witness that verily the Cor- 
+inthians would be the first to wish Pisistratus' house 
+back, when the time appointed should come for 
+them to be vexed by the Athenians. Hippias made 
+this answer, inasmuch as he had more exact know- 
+ledge of the oracles than any man; but the rest of 
+the allies, who had till now kept silence, when they 
+heard the free speech of Socles, each and all of them 
+spoke out and declared for the opinion of the 
+Corinthians, entreating the Lacedaemonians to do 
+no hurt to a Greek city. 
+
+94. Thus this design came to nought, and Hippias 
+perforce departed. Amyntas king of the Macedo- 
+nians would have given him Anthemus, and the 
+. Thessalians Iolcus; but he would have neither, and 
+withdrew to Sigeum, which Pisistratus had taken at 
+the spear’s point from the Mytilenaeans, and having 
+won it set up as its despot Hegesistratus, his own 
+bastard son by an Argive woman. But Hegesistratus 
+kept not without fighting what Pisistratus had given 
+him; for the Mytilenaeans and Athenians waged 
+war for a long time! from the city of Achilleum and 
+Sigeum, the Mytilenaeans demanding the place 
+back, and the Athenians not consenting, but bring- 
+ing proof to show that the Aeolians had no more 
+part or lot in the land of Ilium than they themselves 
+and whatsoever other Greeks had aided Menelaus to 
+avenge the rape of Helen. 
+
+* E whose sixth-century chronology is often 
+
+
+inaccurate, appears to be wrong in assigning this war to 
+the period of isistratus; its date cannot be later than 600. 
+
+
+115 
+ι 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+95. Πολεμεόντων δὲ σφέων παντοῖα καὶ ἄλλα 
+ἐγένετο ἐν τῇσι μάχῃσι, ἐν δὲ δὴ καὶ ᾿Αλκαῖος 
+ὁ ποιητὴς συμβολῆς γενομένης καὶ νικώντων 
+᾿Αθηναίων αὐτὸς μὲν φεύγων ἐκφεύγει, τὰ δέ οἱ 
+ὅπλα ἴσχουσι ᾿Αθηναῖοι, καί σφεα ἀνεκρέμασαν 
+πρὸς τὸ ᾿Αθήναιον τὸ ἐν Σιγείῳ. ταῦτα δὲ 
+᾽Αλκαῖος ἐν μέλεϊ ποιήσας ἐπιτιθεῖ ἐς Μυτιλήνη», 
+ἐξαγγελλόμενος τὸ ἑωυτοῦ πάθος Μελανίππῳ 
+ἀνδρὶ ἑταίρῳ. Μυτιληναίους δὲ καὶ ᾿Αθηναίους 
+κατήλλαξε Περίανδρος ὁ Κυψέλου: τούτῳ γὰρ 
+διαιτητῇ ἐπετράποντο" κατήλλαξε δὲ ὧδε, véne- 
+σθαι ἑκατέρους τὴν ἔ ἔχουσι. 
+
+96. Σίγειον μέν νυν οὕτω ἐγένετο ὑπ᾽ ᾿Αθη- 
+ναίοισι. Ἱππίης δὲ ἐπείτε ἀπίκετο ἐκ τῆς 
+Λακεδαίμονος ἐ ἐς τὴν ᾿Ασίην, πᾶν χρῆμα ἐκίνεε, δια- 
+βάλλων τε τοὺς ᾿Αθηναίους πρὸς τὸν ᾿Αρταφρένεα 
+καὶ ποιέων ἅπαντα ὅκως αἱ ᾿Αθῆναι γενοίατο ὑπ᾽ 
+ἑωυτῷ τε καὶ Δαρείῳ. “Ἱππίης τε δὴ ταῦτα : 
+ἔπρησσε, καὶ οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι πυθόμενοι ταῦτα 
+πέμπουσι ἐς Σάρδις ἀγγέλους, οὐκ ἐῶντες τοὺς 
+Πέρσας πείθεσθαι ᾿Αθηναίων τοῖσι φυγάσι. ὁ 
+δὲ Αρταφρένης ἐκέλευε σφέας, εὖ i, βουλοΐατο σόοι 
+εἶναι, καταδέκεσθαι ὀπίσω Ἱππίην. οὔκων δὴ 
+ἐνεδέκοντο τοὺς λόγους ἀποφερομένους οἱ ᾿Αθη- 
+ναῖοι' οὐκ ἐνδεκομένοισι δέ σφι ἐδέδοκτο ἐκ τοῦ 
+φανεροῦ τοῖσι Πέρσῃσι πολεμίους εἶναι. 
+
+97. Νομίξουσι δὲ ταῦτα καὶ διαβεβλημένοισι € ἐς 
+τοὺς Πέρσας, ἐ ἐν τούτῳ δὴ τῷ καιρῷ ὁ Μιλήσιος 
+᾿Αρισταγόρης, t ὑπὸ Κλεομένεος τοῦ Λακεδαιμονίου 
+ἐξελασθεὶς ἐκ τῆς Σπάρτης, ἆ ἀπίκετο ἐς ᾿Αθήνας" 
+αὕτη γὰρ ἡ πόλις τῶν λοιπέων ἐδυνάστευε pé- 
+γιστον. ἐπελθὼν δὲ ἐπὶ τὸν δῆμον ὁ Αριστα- 
+116 
+
+
+BOOK V. 95-97 
+
+
+95. Among the many chances that befel in the 
+fights of this war, this is noteworthy, that in a battle 
+when the Athenians were gaining the victory 
+Alcaeus the poet took to flight and escaped, but his 
+armour was taken by the Athenians and hung up in 
+the temple of Athene at Sigeum. Alcaeus made of 
+this and sent to Mytilene a poem, wherein he relates 
+his own misfortune to his friend Melanippus. But 
+as for the Mytilenaeans and Athenians, peace was 
+made between them by Periander son of Cypselus, 
+to whose arbitrament they committed the matter; 
+and the terms of peace were that each party should 
+keep what it had. 
+
+96. Thus then Sigeum came to be under Athenian 
+rule. But Hippias, having come from Lacedaemon 
+into Asia, left no stone unturned, maligning the 
+Athenians to Artaphrenes, and doing all he could 
+to bring Athens into subjection to himself and 
+Darius; and while Hippias thus wrought, the 
+Athenians heard of it and sent messengers to Sardis, 
+warning the Persians not to believe banished Athen- 
+ians. But Artaphrenes bade them receive Hippias 
+back, if they would be safe. When this bidding 
+was brought back to the Athenians, they would not 
+consent to it; and as they would not consent, it was 
+resolved that they should be openly at war with 
+Persia. 
+
+97. They being thus minded, and the Persians 
+hearing an evil report of them, at this moment 
+Aristagoras the Milesian, driven from Sparta by 
+Cleomenes the Lacedaemonian, came to Athens; 
+for that city was more powerful than any of the 
+rest. Coming before the people, Aristagoras spoke 
+
+
+117 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+γόρης ταὐτὰ ἔλεγε τὰ καὶ ἐν τῇ Σπάρτῃ περὶ 
+τῶν ἀγαθῶν. τῶν ἐν τῇ ᾿Ασίῃ καὶ τοῦ πολέμου τοῦ 
+Περσικοῦ, ὡς οὔτε ἀσπίδα οὔτε δόρυ. νομίξουσι 
+εὐπετέες τε χειρωθῆναι. εἴησαν. ταῦτά τε δὴ 
+ἔλεγε καὶ πρὸς τοῖσι τάδε, ὡς οἱ Μιλήσιοι τῶν 
+᾿Αθηναίων εἰσὶ ἄποικοι, καὶ οἰκός σφεας εἴη 
+ῥύεσθαι δυναμένους μέγα" καὶ οὐδὲν ὅ τι οὐκ 
+ὑπίσχετο οἷα κάρτα δεόμενος, ἐς ὃ ἀνέπεισε 
+σφέας. πολλοὺς γὰρ οἷκε εἶναι εὐπετέστερον 
+διαβάλλειν ῆ ἕνα, εὖ Κλεομένεα μὲν τὸν Λακε- 
+δαιμόνιον μοῦνον οὐκ οἷός τε ἐγένετο διαβάλλειν, 
+τρεῖς δὲ μυριάδας ᾿Αθηναίων ἐποίησε τοῦτο. 
+᾿Αθηναῖοι μὲν δὴ ἀναπεισθέντες ἐψηφίσαντο εἰ- 
+κοσι νέας ἀποστεῖλαι Βοηθοὺς Ἴωσι, στρατηγὸν 
+ἀποδέξαντες αὐτῶν εἶναι Μελάνθιον ἄνδρα τῶν 
+ἀστῶν ἐόντα τὰ πάντα δόκιμον" αὗται δὲ αἱ νέες 
+ἀρχὴ κακῶν ἐγένοντο "Ελλησί τε καὶ βαρβάροισι. 
+
+98. 'A ρισταγόρης δὲ προπλώσας καὶ ἀπικόμενος 
+ἐς τὴν Μίλητον, ἐξευρὼν βούλευμα ἀπ᾿ οὗ Ἴωσι 
+μὲν οὐδεμία ἔμελλε opein ἔσεσθαι, οὐδ᾽ ὧν οὐδὲ 
+τούτου εἵνεκα ἐποίεε ἀλλ᾽ ὅκως βασιλέα Δαρεῖον 
+λυπήσειε, ἔπεμψε ἐς τὴν Φρυγίην ἄνδρα. ἐπὶ τοὺς 
+Παίονας τοὺς ἀπὸ τρυμόνος ποταμοῦ αὐχμα- 
+λώτους γενομένους ὑπὸ Μεγαβάξου, οἰκέοντας δὲ 
+τῆς Φρυγίης χῶρόν τε καὶ κώμην ἐπ᾽ ἑωυτῶν: ὃς 
+ἐπειδὴ ἀπίκετο ἐς τοὺς Παίονας, ἔλεγε τάδε. 
+"Ανδρες Παίονες, ἔπεμψέ με ᾿Αρισταγόρης ὁ 
+Μιλήτου τύραννος σωτηρίην ὑποθησόμενον t ὑμῖν, 
+nv περ βούλησθε πείθεσθαι. νῦν γὰρ Ἰωνίη 
+πᾶσα ἀπέστηκε ἀπὸ βασιλέος, καὶ ὑμῖν παρέχει 
+σώζεσθαι ἐπὶ τὴν ὑμετέρην αὐτῶν' μέχρι μὲν 
+
+
+I18 
+
+
+BOOK V. 97-98 
+
+
+to the same effect as at Sparta, of the good things 
+of Asia, and bow the Persians in war were wont to 
+carry neither shield nor spear and could easily be 
+overcome. This he said, and added thereto, that 
+the Milesians were settlers from Athens, and it was 
+but right to save them, being a very wealthy people ; 
+and there was nothing that he did not promise in 
+the earnestness of his entreaty, till at last he over- 
+persuaded them. Truly it would seem that it is 
+easier to deceive many than one ; for he could not 
+deceive Cleomenes of Lacedaemon, one single man, 
+but thirty thousand! Athenians he could. The 
+Athenians, then, were over-persuaded, and voted 
+the sending of twenty ships in aid of the Ionians, 
+appointing for their admiral Melanthius, a citizen of 
+Athens in all ways of good repute. These ships 
+were the beginning of troubles for Greeks and 
+foreigners. . 
+
+98. Aristagoras sailed before the rest; and coming 
+to Miletus, he invented a design wherefrom no 
+advantage was to accrue to the Ionians (nor indeed 
+was that the purpose of his plan, but rather to vex 
+king Darius): he sent a man into Phrygia, to the 
+Paeonians who had been led captive from the 
+Strymon by Megabazus, and now dwelt in a 
+Phrygian territory and village by themselves; 
+and when the man came to the Paeonians, he 
+thus spoke: “ Men of Paeonia, I am sent by Aris- 
+tagoras, despot of Miletus, to point you the way to 
+deliverance, if you will be guided by bim. All 
+Ionia is now in revolt against the king, and you 
+have the power to win back safely to your own 
+
+
+1 But even in the palmiest days of Athens the number of 
+voters did not exceed 20,000. 
+
+
+II9 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+[ 3 ^ ο ^ N . , N 4 e ^ 
+θαλάσσης αὐτοῖσι ὑμῖν, τὸ δὲ ἆπο τούτου ἡμῖν 
+ἤδη μελήσει." ταῦτα δὲ ἀκούσαντες οἱ Παίονες 
+κάρτα τε ἀσπαστὸν ἐποιήσαντο καὶ ἀναλαθόντες 
+παῖδας καὶ γυναῖκας ἀπεδίδρησκον ἐ ἐπὶ θάλασσαν, 
+
+οἳ δὲ τινὲς αὐτῶν καὶ κατέµειναν ἀρρωδήσαντες 
+
+, ^ 3 / λ e ld 3 / , N ΄ 
+αὐτοῦ. ἐπείτε δὲ οἱ Παίονες ἀπίκοντο ἐπὶ θάλασ- 
+
+, ^ 3 / / , ν ν 
+σαν, ἐνθεῦτεν ἐς Χίον διέβησαν. ἐόντων δὲ ἤδη 
+5 y / b / / , e" 
+ἐν Χίῳ, κατὰ πόδας ἐληλύθεε Περσέων ἵππος 
+
+`~ ΄ M / ϱ N , ’ 
+πολλὴ διώκουσα τοὺς Παίονας. ὡς δὲ οὐ κατέ- 
+λαβον, ἐπηγγέλλοντο ἐς τὴν Χίον τοῖσι Παίοσι 
+e A 3 Ld » / ε . / . 
+ὅκως ἂν ὀπίσω ἀπέλθοιεν. οἱ δὲ Παίονες τοὺς 
+
+[4 * , 3 , > 3 2 / . ^ 
+λόγους οὐκ ἐνεδέκοντο, ἀλλ. ἐκ Χίου μὲν Χῖοι 
+
+/ 
+σφέας ἐς Λέσβον ἤγαγον, Λέσβιοι δὲ ἐς Δορίσκον 
+ἐκόμισαν, ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ πεζῃ κομιξόμενοι ἀπίκοντο 
+ἐς Π αιονίην. 
+
+99. ᾿Αρισταγόρης δέ, ἐπειδὴ, οἵ τε ᾿Αθηναῖοι 
+ἀπίκοντο εἴκοσι νηυσί, ἅμα ἀγόμενοι Ἐρετριέων 
+πέντε τριήρεας, οἳ οὐ τὴν ᾿Αθηναίων χάριν ἐστρᾶ- 
+τεύοντο ἀλλὰ τὴν αὐτῶν Μιλησίων, ὀφειλόμενά 
+σφι ἀποδιδόντες" οἱ γὰρ δὴ Μιλήσιοι πρότερον 
+τοῖσι ᾿Βρετριεῦσι τὸν πρὸς Χαλκιδέας πόλεμον 
+συνδιήνεικαν, ὅτε περ καὶ Χαλκιδεῦσι ἀντία 
+᾿Ερετριέων καὶ Μιλησίων Σάμιοι ἐβοήθεον: οὗτοι 
+ὧν ἐπείτε σφι. ἀπίκοντο καὶ οἱ ἄλλοι σύμμαχοι 
+παρῆσαν, ἐποιέετο στρατηίην ὁ ᾿Αρισταγόρης ἐς 
+Σάρδις. αὐτὸς μὲν δὴ οὐκ ἐστρατεύετο ἀλλ. ἔμενε 
+ἐν Μιλήτῳ, στρατηγοὺς δὲ ἄλλους ἀπέδεξε Μι. 
+λησίων εἶναι, τὸν ἑωυτοῦ τε ἀδελφεὸν Χαροπῖνον 
+καὶ τῶν ἀστῶν ἄλλον Ἑρμόφαντον. 
+
+100. ᾿Απικόμενοι δὲ τῷ στόλῳ τούτῳ Ἴωνες ἐς 
+Ἔφεσον πλοῖα μὲν κατέλιπον ἐν Kopno τῆς 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+BOOK V. 98-100 
+
+
+country ; this shall be your business as far as the sea, 
+and thereafter we will see to it." "The Paeonians 
+were right glad when they heard that; some of 
+them abode where they were, fearing danger; but 
+the rest took their children and women and made 
+their flight to the sea. Having come thither, the 
+Paeonians crossed over to Chios; and they were 
+already there, when a great host of Persian horse 
+came hard after them in pursuit. Not being able 
+to overtake them, the Persians sent to Chios, 
+commanding the Paeonians to return back ; whereto 
+the Paeonians would not consent, but were brought 
+from Chios by the Chians to Lesbos, and carried by 
+the Lesbians to Doriscus; whence they made their 
+way by land to Paeonia. 
+
+99. As for Aristagoras, when the Athenians came 
+with their twenty ships, bringing with them five 
+triremes of the Eretrians (who came to the war 
+to please not the Athenians but the Milesians 
+themselves, thereby repaying their debt; for ere 
+now the Milesians had been the allies of the Ere- 
+trians in the war against Chalcis, when the Samians 
+came to aid the Chalcidians against the Eretrians 
+and Milesians)—when these, then, and the rest 
+of the allies had all come, Aristagoras planned 
+a march against Sardis. He himself went not 
+with the army but stayed still at Miletus, and 
+appointed others to be generals of the Milesians, 
+namely, his own brother Charopinus, and another 
+citizen named Hermophantus. 
+
+100. The Ionians, having with this armament 
+come to Ephesus, left their ships at Coresus! in the 
+
+
+1 A hill (or a part of the town of Ephesus built thereon) 
+south of the Cayster. 
+
+
+I2I 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+᾿Εφεσίης, αὐτοὶ δὲ ἀνέβαινον χειρὶ πολλῇ, ποιεύ- 
+μενοι Ἐφεσίους ἡγεμόνας τῆς ὁδοῦ. πορευόμενοι 
+δὲ παρὰ ποταμὸν Καῦστριον, ἐνθεῦτεν ἐπείτε 
+ὑπερβάντες τὸν Ἑμῶλον à ἀπίκοντο, αἱρέουσι Σάρδις 
+οὐδενός σφι ἀντιωθέντος, αἱρέουσι δὲ χωρὶς τῆς 
+ἀκροπόλιος τἆλλα πάντα" τὴν δὲ ἀκρόπολιν 
+ἐρρύετο αὐτὸς ᾿Αρταφρένης ἔχων ἀνδρῶν δύναμιν 
+οὐκ ὀλίγην. 
+
+101. To δὲ μὴ λεηλατῆσαι ἑλόντας σφέας τὴν 
+πόλιν ἔσχε τόδε. ἦσαν ἐν τῇσι Σάρδισι οἰκίαι 
+αἱ μὲν πλεῦνες καλάμιναι, ὅσαι δ᾽ αὐτέων καὶ 
+πλίνθιναι ἢ ἦσαν, καλάμου εἶχον τὰς ὀροφάς" του- 
+τέων δὴ. μίαν τῶν τις στ ατιωτέων ὡς ἐνέπρησε, 
+αὐτίκα ἀπ᾽ οἰκίης ἐπ᾿ οἰκίην ἰὸν τὸ ' πῦρ ἐπενέμετο 
+τὸ ἄστυ πᾶν. καιομένου δὲ τοῦ ἄστεος οἱ Λυδοί 
+τε καὶ ὅσοι Περσέων ἐ ἐνῆσαν ἐν τῇ πόλι, ἀπολαμ- 
+φθέντες πάντοθεν ὥστε τὰ περιέσχατα νεμομένου 
+τοῦ πυρός, καὶ οὐκ ἔχοντες ἐξήλυσιν ἐ ἐκ τοῦ ἄστεος, 
+συνέρρεον ἔς τε τὴν ἀγορὴν καὶ ἐπὶ τὸν Πακτωλὸν 
+ποταμόν, ὅς σφι γῆγμα χρυσοῦ καταφορέων ἐκ 
+τοῦ Τμώλου ιὰ μέσης τῆς ἀγορῆς ῥέει καὶ ἔπειτα 
+ἐς τὸν Ἔρμον ποταμὸν ἐκδιδοῖ, ὃ δὲ € ἐς θάλασσαν" 
+ἐπὶ τοῦτον δὴ | τὸν Πακτωλὸν καὶ ἐς τὴν ἀγορὴν 
+ἀθροιξόμενοι οὗ τε Λυδοὶ καὶ οἱ Ηέρσαι ἠναγκά- 
+ἕοντο ἀμύνεσθαι. οἱ δὲ Ίωνες ὁρέοντες τοὺς μὲν 
+ἀμυνομένους τῶν πολεμίων τοὺς δὲ σὺν πλήθεϊ 
+πολλῷ «προσφερομένους, ἐξανεχώρησαν δείσαντες 
+πρὸς τὸ ὄρος τὸν Τμῶλον καλεόμενον, ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ 
+ὑπὸ νύκτα ἀπαλλάσσοντο ἐπὶ τὰς νέας. 
+
+102. Καὶ Σάρδιες μὲν ἐνεπρήσθησαν, ἐν δὲ 
+αὐτῇσι καὶ ἱρὸν ἐπιχωρίης θεοῦ Κυβήβης' τὸ 
+
+
+122 
+
+
+BOOK V. 100-102 
+
+
+Ephesian territory, and themselves marched inland 
+with a great host, taking Ephesians to guide them 
+on their way. Journeying beside the river Caicus, 
+and crossing thence over Tmolus, they came to Sardis 
+and took it, none withstanding them; all of it they 
+took, save only the citadel, which was held by 
+Artaphrenes himself with a great power. 
+
+101. Now this it was that hindered them from 
+plundering the city. The greater part of the 
+houses in Sardis were of reeds, and as many as 
+were of brick, even they had roofs of reeds. So it 
+was that when one of these was set afire by a soldier, 
+the flames spread from house to house all over 
+the whole city. While the city was burning, 
+the Lydians and all the Persians that were in the 
+citadel, being hemmed in on every side (for the 
+fire was consuming the outer parts), and having no 
+exit from the city, came thronging into the market- 
+place and to the river Pactolus, which flows through 
+the market-place carrying down gold dust from 
+Tmolus, and issues into the river Hermus as does 
+the Hermus into the sea; they assembled in the 
+market-place by this Pactolus, and there of necessity 
+defended themselves, Lydians and Persians. When 
+the Ionians saw some of their enemies defending 
+themselves and 4 great multitude of others 
+approaching, they were afraid, and drew off out 
+of the city to the mountain called Tmolus; whence 
+at nightfall they departed to their ships. 
+
+102. So Sardis was burnt,! and therein the temple 
+of Cybebe,? the goddess of that country; which 
+
+
+1 In 498. 
+* Or Cybele, the great goddess of the Phrygians and 
+Lydians. 
+
+
+123 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+σκηπτόμενοι οἱ Πέρσαι ὕστερον ἀντενεπίμπρασαν 
+τὰ ἐν "λλησι ἱρά. τότε δὲ οἱ Πέρσαι οἱ ἐντὸς 
+AXvos ποταμοῦ νομοὺς ἔχοντες, προπυνθανόµενοι 
+- / ν 2 , ^ ^ 
+ταῦτα, συνηλίζοντο καὶ ἐβοήθεον τοῖσι Λυδοῖσι. 
+καί κως ἐν μὲν Σάρδισι οὐκέτι ἐόντας τοὺς Ἴωνας 
+εὑρίσκουσι, ἑπόμενοι δὲ κατὰ στίβον αἱρέουσι 
+WT > 4 3 > / . } /, M e 
+Ιὐτοὺς ἐν Εφέσῳ. καὶ ἀντετάχθησαν μὲν οἱ 
+, ν N e , N 
+αωνες, συμβαλόντες δὲ πολλὸν ἑσσώθησαν. καὶ 
+πολλοὺς αὐτῶν οἱ Πέρσαι φονεύουσι ἄλλους τε 
+, z 3 . M . 3 , / 
+ὀνομαστούς, ἐν δὲ δὴ καὶ Evarxtdnv στρατηγέοντα 
+᾿Ερετριέων, στεφανηφόρους τε ἀγῶνας ἀναραιρη- 
+κότα καὶ ὑπὸ Σιμωνίδεω τοῦ Κηίου πολλὰ 
+αἰνεθέντα' οἳ δὲ αὐτῶν ἀπέφυγον τὴν μάχην, 
+ἐσκεδάσθησαν ἀνὰ τὰς πόλιας. 
+L4 
+103. Τότε μὲν δὴ οὕτω ἠγωνίσαντο. μετὰ δὲ 
+^ A 
+᾿Αθηναῖοι μὲν τὸ παράπαν ἀπολιπόντες τοὺς 
+Ἴωνας, ἐπικαλεομένου σφέας πολλὰ δι ἀγγέλων 
+᾿Αρισταγόρεω, οὐκ ἔφασαν τιμωρήσειν σφι’ "loves 
+δὲ τῆς ᾿Αθηναίων συμμαχίης στερηθέντες, οὕτω 
+γάρ σφι ὑπῆρχε πεποιημένα ἐς Δαρεῖον, οὐδὲν δὴ 
+ἧσσον τὸν πρὸς βασιλέα πόλεμον ἐσκευάξοντο. 
+πλώσαντες δὲ ἐς τὸν Ἑλλήσποντον Ῥυξάντιόν 
+τε καὶ τὰς ἄλλας πόλιας πάσας τὰς ταύτῃ ὑπ᾽ 
+ἑωυτοῖσι ἐποιήσαντο, ἐκπλώσαντές τε ἔξω τὸν 
+Ἑλλήσποντον .Καρίης τὴν πολλὴν προσεκτή- 
+σαντο σφίσι σύμμαχον εἶναι' καὶ γὰρ τὴν Καῦνον 
+πρότερον οὐ βουλομένην συμμαχέειν, ὡς ἐνέπρη- 
+σαν τὰς Σάρδις, τότε σφι καὶ αὕτη προσεγένετο. 
+104. Κύπριοι δὲ ἐθελονταί σφι πάντες προσ- 
+εγένοντο πλὴν ᾿Αμαθουσίων' ἀπέστησαν γὰρ καὶ 
+
+
+124 
+
+
+BOOK V. 102-104 
+
+
+burning the Persians afterwards made their pretext 
+for burning the temples of Hellas. But, at this 
+time, the Persians of the provinces this side! the 
+Halys, on hearing of these matters, gathered 
+together and came to aid the Lydians. It chanced 
+that they found the Ionians no longer at Sardis; 
+but following on their tracks they caught them at 
+Ephesus. There the Ionians stood arrayed to meet 
+them, but were utterly routed in the battle; many 
+men of renown among them the Persians put to the 
+sword, of whom was Evalcides the general of the 
+Eretrians, one that had won crowns as victor in the 
+lists and been greatly belauded by Simonides of 
+Ceos ; those of the Ionians that escaped from the 
+battle fled scattered, each to his city. 
+
+103. Thus for the nonce they fared in their 
+fighting. But presently the Athenians wholly 
+separated themselves from the Ionians and refused 
+to aid them, though Aristagoras sent messages of 
+earnest entreaty ; yet the Ionians, though bereft of 
+their Athenian allies, did none the less busily carry 
+forward their war against the king, so heavily they 
+stood committed by what they had done to Darius. 
+They sailed to the Hellespont and made Byzantium 
+subject to them, and all the other cities of that 
+region ; then sailing out from the Hellespont they 
+gained to their cause the greater part of Caria; for 
+even Caunus, which till then had not willed to be 
+their ally, did now join itself to them after the 
+burning of Sardis. 
+
+104. The Cyprians did likewise of their own free 
+will, all save the people of Amathus; for these too 
+
+
+| Lit. ‘‘ within”; that is, from the Greek point of view, 
+and so west of the Halys. 
+
+
+125 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οὗτοι ὧδε ἀπὸ Μήδων. ἦν ᾿Ὀνήσιλος Γόργου μὲν 
+τοῦ Σαλαμινίων βασιλέος ἀδελφεὸς νεώτερος, 
+Χέρσιος δὲ τοῦ Σιρώμου τοῦ Εὐέλθοντος παῖς. 
+οὗτος ὦνὴρ πολλάκις μὲν καὶ πρότερον τὸν Γόργον 
+παρηγορέετο ἀπίστασθαι ἀπὸ Βασιλέος, τότε δέ, 
+ὡς καὶ τοὺς Ἴωνας ἐπύθετο ἀπεστάναι, πάγχυ 
+ἐπικείμενος ἐνῆγε: ὡς δὲ οὐκ ἔπειθε τὸν Τό γον, 
+ἐνθαῦτά pw φυλάξας ἐξελθόντα τὸ ἄστυ τὸ αλα- 
+μινίων ὁ ᾿Ονήσιλος ἅ ἅμα τοῖσι ἑωυτοῦ στασιώτῃσι 
+ἀπεκλήισε τῶν πυλέων. Γόργος μὲν δὴ στερηθεὶς 
+τῆς πόλιος ἔφευγε ἐς Μήδους, ᾿Ονήσιλος δὲ ἦρχε 
+Σαλαμῖνος καὶ ἀνέπειθε πάντας Κυπρίους συναπί- 
+στασθαι. τοὺς μὲν δὴ ἄλλους ἀνέπεισε, Ἄμαθου- 
+σίους δὲ οὗ βουλομένους οἱ πείθεσθαι ἐπολιόρκεε 
+προσκατήμενος. 
+
+105. Ὀνήσιλος μέν νυν ἐπολιόρκεε ᾿Αμαθοῦντα. 
+βασιλέι δὲ Δαρείῳ ὡς ἐξαγγέλθη Σάρδις ἁλούσας 
+ἐμπεπρῆσθαι ὑπό τε ᾿Αθηναίων καὶ ᾿Ιώνων, τὸν 
+δὲ ἡγεμόνα γενέσθαι τῆς συλλογῆς ὥστε ταῦτα 
+συνυφανθῆναι τὸν Μιλήσιον ᾿Αρισταγόρην, πρῶτα 
+μὲν λέγεται αὐτόν, ὡς ἐπύθετο ταῦτα, Ἰώνων 
+οὐδένα λόγον ποιησάμενον, εὖ εἰδότα ὡς οὗτοί γε 
+οὐ καταπροΐξονται ἀποστάντες, εἰρέσθαι οἵτινες 
+εἶεν οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι, μετὰ δὲ πυθόμενον αἰτῆσαι τὸ 
+τόξον, λαβόντα δὲ καὶ ἐπιθέντα δὲ ὀιστὸν ἄνω 
+πρὸς τὸν οὐρανὸν ἀπεῖναι, καί μιν ἐς τὸν ἠέρα 
+βάλλοντα εἰπεῖν “ Ὢ Ζεῦ, ἐκγενέσθαι μοι ᾿Αθη- 
+ναίους τίσασθαι,᾽ εἴπαντα δὲ ταῦτα προστάξαι 
+ἑνὶ τῶν θεραπόντων δεύπνου προκειμένου αὐτῷ 
+ἐς τρὶς ἑκάστοτε εἰπεῖν “ Δέσποτα, μέμνεο τῶν 
+᾿Αθηναίων.” 
+
+100. Προστάξας δὲ ταῦτα εἶπε, καλέσας ἐς 
+126 
+
+
+BOOK V. 104-106 
+
+
+revolted from the Medes in such manner as I will 
+show. There was one Onesilus, a younger brother 
+of Gorgus king of the Salaminians,! and son of 
+Chersis, who was the son of Siromus, who was 
+the son of Evelthon. This man had often before 
+counselled Gorgus to revolt from Darius, and now 
+when he learnt that the Ionians too had revolted he 
+was very instant in striving to move him ; but when 
+he could not persuade Gorgus, he and his faction 
+waited till his brother had gone out of the city of 
+Salamis, and shut him out of the gates. Gorgus 
+then having lost his city took refuge with the 
+Medes, and Onesilus was king of Salamis and over- 
+persuaded all Cyprus to revolt with him, all save the 
+Amathusians, who would not consent; and he sat 
+down before their city and besieged it. 
+
+105. Onesilus, then, besieged Amathus. But 
+when it was told to Darius that Sardis had been 
+taken and burnt by the Athenians and Ionians, and 
+that Aristagoras the Milesian had been leader of 
+the conspiracy for the weaving of this plan, at his 
+first hearing of it (it is said) he took no account of 
+the Ionians,—being well assured that they of all 
+men would not go scatheless for their rebellion,— 
+but asked who were the Athenians ; and being told, 
+he called for his bow, which he took, and laid an 
+arrow on it and shot it into the sky, praying as he 
+sent it aloft, “O Zeus, grant me vengeance on the 
+Athenians,” and therewithal he charged one of his 
+servants to say to him thrice whenever dinner was 
+set before him, “ Master, remember the Athenians.” 
+
+106. Having given this charge, he called before 
+
+
+1 Of Salamis in Cyprus. 
+
+
+127 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+^ e ^ 
+ὄψιν Ἱστιαῖον τὸν Μιλήσιον, τὸν 0 Δαρεῖος κατ- 
+A , 715 , (κε 4 e ^ 
+εἶχε χρόνον ἤδη πολλόν, ' Πυνθάνομαι Ἱστιαῖε 
+hy ^ 
+ἐπίτροπον τὸν σὀν, TQ σὺ Μίλητον ἐπέτρεψας, 
+νεώτερα ἐς ἐμὲ πεποιηκέναι πρήγματα' ἄνδρας 
+γάρ μοι ἐκ τῆς ἑτέρης ἠπείρου ἐπαγαγών, καὶ 
+Ἴωνας σὺν αὐτοῖσι τοὺς δώσοντας ἐμοὶ δίκην τῶν 
+ἐποίησαν, τούτους ἀναγνώσας ἅμα ἐκείνοισι ἔπε- 
+σθαι, Σαρδίων µε ἀπεστέρησε. νῦν ὧν κῶς τοι 
+ταῦτα φαίνεται ἔχειν καλῶς ; κῶς δὲ ἄνευ τῶν 
+σῶν βουλευμάτων τούτων τι ἐπρήχθη ; ὅρα μὴ 
+ἐξ ὑστέρης σεωυτὸν ἐν αἰτίῃ σχῆς.᾽ εἶπε πρὸς 
+- ε ^ € ^ ^ 9 , yY 
+ταῦτα Ἱστιαῖος “ Βασιλεῦ, κοῖον ἐφθέγξαο ἔπος, 
+ἐμὲ βουλεῦσαι πρῆγμα ἐκ τοῦ σοί τι ἢ μέγα 1) 
+N » hy 9 / r 9 A 
+σμικρὸν ἔμελλε λυπηρὸν ἀνασχήσειν; τί ὃ ἂν 
+^ ^ M 
+ἐπιδιζήμενος ποιέοιµι ταῦτα, τεῦ δὲ ἐνδεὴς ἐών ; 
+^ , 
+τῷ πάρα μὲν πάντα ὅσα περ σοί, πάντων δὲ πρὸς 
+/ ΄ 9 , , e^ , » ν 
+σέο βουλευμάτων ἐπακούειν ἀξιεῦμαι. ἀλλ. εἴπερ 
+τι τοιοῦτον οἷον σὺ εἴρηκας πρήσσει ὁ ἐμὸς ἐπί- 
+τροπος, ἴσθι αὐτὸν ἐπ᾽ ἑωυτοῦ βαλόμενον meron- 
+[4 > A \ » 9 \ 9 VA N , 
+κέναι. ἀρχὴν δὲ ἔγωγε οὐδὲ ἐνδέκομαι τὸν λόγον, 
+ὅκως τι Μιλήσιοι καὶ ὁ ἐμὸς ἐπίτροπος νεώτερον 
+/ 
+πρήσσουσι περὶ πρήγματα τὰ σά. εἰ Ò ἄρα TL 
+"^ ^ ` . ^ PAY 9 s 4 ^ 
+τοιοῦτο ποιεῦσι καὶ σὺ τὸ ἐὸν ἀκήκοας ὦ βασιλεῦ, 
+4 ^ 
+μάθε olov πρῆγμα ἐργάσαο ἐμὲ ἀπὸ θαλάσσης 
+ἀνάσπαστον ποιήσας. "Ίωνες γὰρ οἴκασι ἐμεῦ 
+9 ? A , e e^ ΄ 
+ἐξ ὀφθαλμῶν σφι γενομένου ποιῆσαι τῶν πάλαι 
+ο ?" , l4 * A 9 9 , ’ , [4 
+ἵμερον εἶχον' ἐμέο δ᾽ ἂν ἐόντος ἐν Ἰωνίῃ οὐδεμία 
+’ ^^ 
+πόλις ὑπεκίνησε. νῦν ὧν ὡς τάχος ἄπες µε πορευ- 
+θῆναι ἐς ᾿Ιωνίην, ἵνα τοι κεῖνά τε πάντα καταρ- 
+128 
+
+
+BOOK V. 106 
+
+
+him Histiaeus the Milesian, whom Darius had now 
+kept for a long while with him, and said: “I learn, 
+Histiaeus! that your vicegerent, to whom you gave 
+Miletus in charge, has done me strange wrong: he 
+has brought men from the mainland overseas, and 
+persuaded to follow them certain Ionians,—who 
+shall yet pay me the penalty of their deeds,—and 
+has robbed me of Sardis. Now, therefore, I ask 
+you, how think you that this is well done? And 
+how came such things to be done without counsel 
+from you? Look well to it, that you have not cause 
+to blame yourself hereafter.” Το this Histiaeus 
+made answer: “Sire, what is this word that you 
+utter—that I and none other should devise a plan 
+whence aught great or small was like to arise for 
+your hurt? And what then have I to desire, and 
+what do I lack, that I should do that? All that you 
+have is mine, and I am deemed worthy to hear all 
+yourcounsels. Nay, if indeed my vicegerent has any 
+such thing in hand as this whereof you speak, be 
+well assured that he has acted of his own motion. 
+For myself, I cannot even so much as believe the 
+report that the Milesians and my vicegerent are 
+doing you strange wrong. But if it appears that 
+they are so dealing, and it is the truth, O king, that 
+you have heard, then I bid you perceive what it was 
+that you wrought when you brought me from the 
+sea into exile. For it would seem that the Ionians 
+have taken occasion by my being removed out of 
+their sight to do that whereon their hearts had long 
+been set; but had I been in Ionia no city would 
+have stirred. Now therefore send me away on my 
+journey to Ionia with all speed, that I may bring 
+that country to its former peace, and deliver into 
+
+129 
+
+VOL, ΠΠ]. K 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τίσω ἐς τὠυτὸ καὶ τὸν Μιλήτου ἐπίτροπον τοῦτον 
+τὸν ταῦτα μηχανησάμενον ἐγχειρίθετον παραδῶ. 
+ταῦτα δὲ κατὰ νόον τὸν σὸν ποιήσας, θεοὺς ἐπ- 
+όμνυμι τοὺς βασιληίους μὴ μὲν πρότερον ἐκδύ- 
+σασθαι τὸν ἔχων κιθῶνα καταβήσομαι ἐ ἐς ᾿Ιωνύην, 
+πρὶν ἄν τοι Σ αρδὼ νῆσον τὴν μεγίστην δασμοφό- 
+ρον ποιήσω. 
+
+107. Ἱστιαῖος μὲν λέγων ταῦτα διέβαλλε, 
+Δαρεῖος δὲ ἐπείθετο καί μιν ἀπίει, ἐντειλάμενος, 
+ἐπεὰν τὰ ὑπέσχετό οἱ ἐπιτελέα ποιήσῃ, παρα- 
+γίνεσθαί οἱ ὀπίσω ἐς τὰ Σοῦσα. 
+
+108. Ἐν ᾧ δὲ ἡ ἡ ἀγγελίη τε περὶ τῶν Σαρδίων 
+παρὰ βασιλέα ἆ ἀνήιε καὶ Δαρεῖος τὰ περὶ τὸ τόξον 
+ποιήσας Ἱστιαίῳ ἐς λόγους ἦλθε καὶ Ἱστιαῖος 
+μεμετιμένος ὑπὸ Δαρείου ἐκομίξετο ἐπὶ θάλασσαν, 
+ἐν τούτῳ παντὶ TQ χρόνῳ ἐγίνετο τάδε. πολιορ- 
+κέοντι τῷ Σαλαμινίῳ Ὀνησίλῳ ᾿Αμαθουσίους 
+ἐξαγγέλλεται νηυσὶ στρατιὴν πολλὴν ἄγοντα 
+Περσικὴν ᾿Αρτύβιον ἄνδρα Πέρσην προσδόκιμον | 
+ἐς τὴν Κύπρον εἶναι" πυθόμενος δὲ ταῦτα ο 
+Ὀνήσιλος κήρυκας διέπεμπε ἐς τὴν Ἰωνίην 
+ἐπικαλεύμενος σφέας, Ἴωνες δὲ οὐκ ἐς μακρὴν 
+βουλευσάμενοι ἧκον πολλῷ στόλῳ. Ἴωνές τε δὴ 
+παρῆσαν ἐς τὴν Κύπρον καὶ οἱ Πέρσαι νηυσὶ δια- 
+βάντες ἐκ τῆς Κιλικίης ἤισαν ἐπὶ τὴν Σαλαμῖνα 
+πεζῇ. τῇσι δὲ νηυσὶ οἱ Φοίνικες περιέπλεον τὴν 
+ἄκρην αἳ καλεῦνται Κληῖδες τῆς Κύπρου. 
+
+109. Τούτου δὲ τοιούτου γινομένου ἔλεξαν οἱ 
+τύραννοι τῆς Κύπρου, συγκαλέσαντες τῶν ᾿Ιώνων 
+τοὺς στρατηγούς, τ "Άνδρες ` "Ίωνες, αἵρεσιν ὑμῖν 
+δίδομεν ἡμεῖς οἱ Κύπριοι περι σος 
+
+
+130 
+
+
+BOOK V. 106-109 
+
+
+your hands that vicegerent of Miletus who has 
+devised all this. Then, when I have done this 
+according to your desire, I swear by the gods of 
+your kingship! that I will not doff the tunic which 
+I wear when I go down to Ionia, ere I make Sardo,? 
+the greatest of the isles of the sea, tributary to you.” 
+
+107. Thus spoke Histiaeus, with intent to deceive ; 
+and Darius consented and let him go, charging 
+Histiaeus to appear before him at Susa when he 
+should have achieved what he promised. 
+
+108. Now while the message concerning Sardis 
+went up to the king, and Darius, having done as I 
+said with his bow, held converse with Histiaeus, and 
+Histiaeus being suffered to go by Darius made his 
+way to the sea, in all this time matters fell out as I 
+shall show. While Onesilus of Salamis was besieging 
+the Amathusians, news was brought him that Arty- 
+bius, a Persian, was thought to be coming to Cyprus 
+with a great Persian host ; learning which, Onesilus 
+sent heralds about to Ionia to summon the people, 
+and the Ionians after no long deliberation came with 
+a great armament. So the Ionians were in Cyprus 
+when the Persians, crossing from Cilicia, marched 
+to Salamis by land, while the Phoenicians in their 
+ships sailed round the headland which is called the 
+Keys of Cyprus.? 
+
+. 109. In this turn of affairs, the despots of Cyprus 
+assembled the generals of the lonians, and said to 
+them: *  Ionians, we Cyprians bid you choose which 
+
+
+1 Cp. III. 65. In the inscription at Persepolis Darius 
+invokes Ormazd and the ‘‘ gods of his race." 
+
+2 Sardinia. . 
+
+3 “The promontory (Cap St. André) at the end of the 
+ong tongue of land now ‘the Carpass’” (How and Wells). 
+
+
+141 
+κ 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+προσφέρεσθαι, ἡ Πέρσῃσι ἢ Φοίνιξι. εἰ μὲν γὰρ 
+πεζῇ βούλεσθε ταχθέντες Περσέων διαπειρᾶσθαι, 
+ὥρη ἂν εἴη ὑμῖν ἐκβάντας ἐκ τῶν νεῶν τάσσεσθαι 
+meth, ἡμέας δὲ ἐς τὰς νέας ἐσβαίνειν τὰς ὑμετέρας 
+Φοίνιξι ἀνταγωνιευμένους: εἰ δὲ Φοινίκων μᾶλλον 
+Βούλεσθε διαπειρᾶσθαι, ποιέειν χρεόν ἐστι ὑμέας, 
+ὁκότερα ἂν δὴ τούτων ἕλησθε, ὅκως τὸ κατ᾽ ὑμέας 
+ἔσται ἤ τε ᾿Ιωνίη καὶ ἡ Κύπρος ἐλευθέρη.᾽ εἶπαν 
+Ἴ ὃς ταῦτα “΄ Ημέας δὲ ἀπέπεμψε τὸ κοινὸν 
+wves πρὸς ταῦτα “' Ημέας δὲ ἀπέπεμ 
+τῶν Ἰώνων φυλάξοντας τὴν θάλασσαν, ἀλλ οὖκ 
+ἵνα Κυπρίοισι τὰς νέας παραδόντες αὐτοὶ πεζῇ 
+Πέρσῃσι προσφερώμεθα. ἡμεῖς μέν νυν ém οὗ 
+ἐτάχθημεν, ταύτῃ πειρησόμεθα εἶναι χρηστοί: 
+ὑμέας δὲ χρεόν ἐστι ἀναμνησθέντας οἷα ἐπάσχετε 
+δουλεύοντες πρὸς τῶν Μήδων, γίνεσθαι ἄνδρας 
+ἀγαθούς." 
+
+110. Ἴωνες μὲν τούτοισι ἀμείψαντο' μετὰ δὲ 
+ἡκόντων ἐς τὸ πεδίον τὸ Σαλαμινίων τῶν Περσέων, 
+διέτασσον οἱ βασιλέες τῶν Κυπρίων, τοὺς μὲν 
+ἄλλους Κυπρίους κατὰ τοὺς ἄλλους στρατιώτας 
+ἀντιτάσσοντες, Σαλαμινίων δὲ καὶ Σολίων aro- 
+λέξαντες τὸ ἄριστον ἀντέτασσον Πέρσῃσι' Αρτυ- 
+βίῳ δὲ τῷ στρατηγῷ τῶν Περσέων ἐθελοντὴς 
+ἀντετάσσετο Ὀνήσιλος. 
+
+111. Ἠλαυνε δὲ ἵππον ὁ ᾿Αρτύβιος δεδιδαγ- 
+μένον πρὸς ὁπλίτην ἵστασθαι ὀρθόν. πυθόμενος 
+Qv ταῦτα ὁ Ὀνήσιλος, ἦν γάρ οἱ ὑπασπιστὴς 
+γένος μὲν Κὰρ τὰ δὲ πολέμια κάρτα δόκιμος καὶ 
+ἄλλως λήματος πλέος, εἶπε πρὸς τοῦτον “ Πυνθά- 
+voat τὸν ᾿Αρτυβίου ἵππον ἱστάμενον ὀρθὸν καὶ 
+ποσὶ καὶ στόματι κατεργάξεσθαι πρὸς τὸν ἂν 
+προσενειχθῇ. σὺ ὧν βουλευσάμενος εἰπὲ αὐτίκα 
+132 
+
+
+BOOK V. 109-111 
+
+
+you will encounter, the Persians or the Phoenicians. 
+For if you will set your army in array on land and 
+try conclusions with the Persians, then it is time for 
+you to get you out of your ships and array yourselves 
+on land, and for us to embark in your ships to 
+contend with the Phoenicians; but if you desire 
+rather to try conclusions with the Phoenicians, you 
+must so act, whichever you choose, that as far as 
+in you lies Ionia and Cyprus shall be free." To this 
+the Ionians answered, * Nay, we were sent by the 
+common voice of Ionia to guard the seas, not to 
+deliver our ships to men of Cyprus and encounter 
+the Persians on land. We will essay then to bear 
+ourselves bravely in the task whereto we were set ; 
+and it is for you to prove yourselves valiant men, 
+remembering what you suffered when you were 
+slaves to the Medians." 
+
+110. Thus answered the Ionians; and presently, 
+the Persians being now in the plain of Salamis, the 
+Cyprian kings ordered their battle line, arraying the 
+chosen flower of the Salaminians and Solians over 
+against the Persians and the rest of the Cyprians 
+against the rest of the enemy's army ; Onesilus chose 
+for himself a place where he had before him Artybius, 
+the Persian general. 
+
+111. Now the horse whereon Artybius rode was 
+trained to fight with men-at-arms by rearing up. 
+Hearing this, Onesilus said to his esquire (who was 
+Carian born, of great renown in war, and a valiant 
+man ever), *I learn that Artybius' horse rears up 
+and kicks and bites to death whomsoever he en- 
+counters. Bethink you then and tell me straightway 
+
+
+133 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὁκότερον βούλεαι φυλάξας πλῆξαι, εἴτε τὸν ἵππον 
+εἴτε αὐτὸν ᾿Αρτύβιον.᾽ εἶπε πρὸς ταῦτα ὁ ὁπάων 
+αὐτοῦ “eQ βασιλεῦ, € ἕτοιμος μὲν ἐγώ εἰμι ποιέειν 
+καὶ «ἀμφότερα καὶ τὸ .ἕτερον αὐτῶν, καὶ πάντως 
+τὸ ἂν σὺ ἐπιτάσσῃς' ὡς μέντοι ἔμοιγε δοκέει εἶναι 
+τοῖσι σοῖσι πρήγμασι προσφερέστερον, φράσω. 
+βασιλέα μὲν καὶ στρατηγὸν χρεὸν εἶναι φημὶ 
+βασιλέι τε καὶ στρατηγῷ προσφέρεσ αι. ἣν τε 
+γὰρ κατέλῃς ἄνδρα στρατηγόν, μέγα TOL γίνεται, 
+καὶ δεύτερα, ἦν σὲ ἐκεῖνος, τὸ μὴ γένοιτο, ὑπὸ 
+ἀξιοχρέου καὶ ἀποθανεῖν ἡ ἡμίσεα συμφορή: ἡμέας 
+δὲ τοὺς ὑπηρέτας ἑτέροισί τε ὑπηρέτῃσι προσφέ- 
+ρεσθαι καὶ πρὸς ἵππον' τοῦ σὺ τὰς μηχανὰς 
+μηδὲν φοβηθῇς" ἐγὼ γάρ τοι ὑποδέκομαι μή μιν 
+ἀνδρὸς ἔτι γε μηδενὸς στήσεσθαι ἐ ἐναντίον. 
+
+112. Ταῦτα εἶπε, καὶ μεταυτίκα συνέμισγε τὰ 
+στρατόπεδα πεξῇ καὶ νηυσί. νηυσὶ μέν νυν Ίωνες 
+ἄκροι γενόμενοι ταύτην τὴν ἡμέρην ὑπερεβάλοντο 
+τοὺς Φοίνικας, καὶ τούτων Σάμιοι ἠρίστευσαν' 
+πεζῇ δέ, ὡς συνῆλθε τὰ στρατόπεδα, συμπεσόντα 
+ἐμάχοντο. κατὰ δὲ τοὺς στρατηγοὺς ἀμφοτέρους 
+τάδε ἐ ἐγίνετο' ὡς προσεφέρετο πρὸς τὸν Ὀνήσιλον 
+0 ᾿Αρτύβιος ἐπὶ τοῦ ἵππου κατήμενος, ὁ Ὀνή- 
+σιλος κατὰ τὰ συνεθήκατο τῷ ὑπασπιστῇ παίει 
+προσφερόμενον αὐτὸν τὸν ᾿Αρτύθιον: ἐπιβαλόντος 
+
+È τοῦ ἵππου τοὺς πόδας ἐπὶ τὴν Ὀνησίλου 
+ἀσπίδα, ἐνθαῦτα ὁ Κὰρ δρεπάνῳ πλήξας ar- 
+αράσσει τοῦ ἵππου τοὺς πόδας. 
+
+118. ᾿Αρτύβιος μὲν δὴ ò στρατηγὸς τῶν llep- 
+σέων ὁμοῦ τῷ ἵππῳ πίπτει αὐτοῦ ταύτῃ. payo- 
+μένων δὲ καὶ τῶν ἄλλων, Στησήνωρ τύραννος ἐὼν 
+Κουρίου προδιδοῦ ἔχων δύναμιν ἀνδρῶν περὶ 
+134 
+
+
+BOOK V. 111-113 
+
+
+which you will watch and smite, Artybius himself or 
+his horse." Το this his henchman answered, “O 
+King, ready am I to do either or both, and whatever 
+your bidding be, that to do; yet I will tell you what 
+I judge to accord best with your state. To my 
+mind, it is right that king and general should by 
+king and general be encountered. For if you lay 
+low a man that is a general, you have achieved a 
+great feat; and failing that, if he lay you low (as I 
+pray he may not), it is but half the misfortune to be 
+slain by a noble foe; and for us that are servants it 
+is meet that we fight with servants like ourselves, 
+yea, and with that horse; fear not his tricks; for 
+I promise you that never again shall he do battle 
+with any man." 
+
+112. Thus he spoke; and immediately the mellay 
+of the hosts began by land and sea. The Ionian 
+shipmen showed surpassing excellence that day, 
+and overcame the Phoenicians; among them, the 
+Samians were most valorous ; and on land, when the 
+armies met, they charged and fought. With the 
+two generals it fared as I shall show.  Ártybius 
+rode at Onesilus; Onesilus, as he had agreed with 
+his esquire, dealt Artybius a blow as he bore down 
+upon bim ; and when the horse smote his hoofs on 
+Onesilus' shield, the Carian shore away the horse's 
+legs with a stroke of his falchion. 
+
+113. Thus and there fell Artybius the Persian 
+general, with his horse. While the rest yet fought, 
+Stesenor despot of Curium (which is said to be an 
+
+
+135 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἑωυτὸν οὐ σμικρήν. οἱ δὲ Κουριέες οὗτοι λέγονται 
+εἶναι ᾿Αργείων ἄποικοι. προδόντων δὲ τῶν Κου- 
+ριέων αὐτίκα. καὶ τὰ Σαλαμινίων πολεμιστήρια 
+ἅρματα τὠυτὸ τοῖσι Κουριεῦσι ἐποίεε. γινομένων 
+δὲ τούτων κατυπέρτεροι ἦσαν οἱ Πέρσαι τῶν 
+Κυπρίων. τετραμμένου δὲ τοῦ στρατοπέδου ἄλλοι 
+τε ἔπεσον πολλοὶ καὶ δὴ καὶ Ὀνήσιλός τε ὁ 
+Χέρσιος, ὅ ὃς περ τὴν Κυπρίων ἀπόστασιν ἔπρηξε, 
+καὶ ὁ Σολίων βασιλεὺς ᾿Αριστόκυπρος 0 Φιλοκύ- 
+πρου, Φιλοκύπρου δὲ τούτου τὸν Σόλων o ᾿Αθη- 
+ναῖος ἀπικόμενος ἐς Κύπρον ἐν ἔπεσι αἴνεσε 
+τυράννων μάλιστα. 
+
+114. Ὀνησίλου μέν νυν ᾿Αμαθούσιοι, ὅ ὅτι σφέας 
+ἐπολιόρκησε, ἀποταμόντες τὴν κεφαλὴν ἐκόμισαν 
+
+ἐς ᾿Αμαθοῦντα καί μιν ἀνεκρέμασαν ὑπὲρ τῶν 
+πυλέων' κρεμαμένης δὲ τῆς κεφαλῆς καὶ ἤδη 
+ἐούσης κοίλης, ἐσμὸς μελισσέων ἐσδὺς ἐς αὐτὴν 
+κηρίων μιν ἐνέπλησε. τούτου δὲ γενομένου τοιού- 
+του, ἐχρέωντο yàp. περὶ αὐτῆς οἱ ᾿Αμαθούσιοι, 
+ἐμαντεύθη σφι τὴν μὲν κεφαλὴν. κατελόντας 
+θάψαι, ᾿Ονησίλφ δὲ θύειν ὡς ἥρωϊ ἀνὰ πᾶν ἔτος, 
+καί σφι ποιεῦσι ταῦτα ἄμεινον συνοίσεσθαι. 
+
+115. ᾿Αμαθούσιοι μέν νυν ἐποίευν ταῦτα καὶ τὸ 
+μέχρι ἐμεῦ" Ἴωνες δὲ οἱ ἐν Κύπρῳ ναυμαχήσαντες 
+ἐπείτε ἔμαθον τὰ πρήγματα τὰ ᾿Ονησίλου δι- 
+εφθαρμένα καὶ τὰς πόλις τῶν Κυπρίων πολιορ- 
+κευμένας τὰς ἄλλας πλὴν Σαλαμῖνος, ταύτην δὲ 
+Γόργῳ τῷ προτέρῳ βασιλέι τοὺς Σαλαμινίους 
+παραδόντας, αὐτίκα μαθόντες οἱ Ἴωνες ταῦτα 
+ἀπέπλεον ἐς τὴν Ἰωνίην. τῶν δὲ ἐν Κύπρῳ 
+πολίων ἀντέσχε χρόνον ἐπὶ πλεῖστον πολιορκευ- 
+μένη Σόλοι,. τὴν πέριξ ὑπορύσσοντες τὸ τεῖχος 
+πέμπτῳ μηνὶ εἶλον οἱ Πέρσαι. 
+
+136 
+
+
+BOOK V. 113-115 
+
+
+Argive settlement) played the traitor, with his great 
+company of men; and at the treachery of the 
+Curians the war-chariots of the Salaminians did 
+likewise. Thus it was brought about, that the 
+Persians gained the upper hand over the Cyprians. 
+So the army was routed, and many were there slain ; 
+among whom was Onesilus, son of Chersis, who had 
+wrought the Cyprian revolt, and the king of the 
+Solians, Aristocyprus son of  Philocyprus — that 
+Philocyprus whom Solon of Athens, when he came to 
+Cyprus, extolled in a poem above all other despots. 
+
+114. As for Onesilus, then, the Amathusians cut 
+off his head and brought it to Amathus, where they 
+set it aloft above their gates, because he had besieged 
+their eity ; and the head being there set aloft, when 
+it was hollow a swarm of bees entered it and filled it 
+with their cells. On this an oracle was given to the 
+Amathusians (for they had enquired concerning the 
+matter) that they should take the head down and 
+bury it, and offer yearly sacrifice to Onesilus as to a 
+hero; so doing (said the oracle) they should fare 
+the better. 
+
+115. This the Amathusians did, and have done to 
+this day. But when the Ionians of the sea-fight off 
+Cyprus learnt that Onesilus' cause was lost, and that 
+all the cities of Cyprus were beleaguered save only 
+Salamis, which the Salaminians had delivered up to 
+their former king Gorgus, straightway at this news 
+they made sail away to Ionia. Of the Cyprian cities 
+that which longest stood a siege was Soli; the 
+Persians took it in the fifth month by digging a 
+mine under its walls. 
+
+
+137 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+116. Κύπριοι μὲν δὴ ἐνιαυτὸν ἐλεύθεροι γενό- 
+μενοι αὗτις ἐκ νέης κατεδεδούλωντο. Δαυρίσης 
+δὲ ἔχων Δαρείου θυγατέρα καὶ Ὑμαίης τε καὶ 
+᾿Οτάνης ἄλλοι Πέρσαι στρατηγοί, ἔχοντες καὶ 
+οὗτοι Δαρείου θυγατέρας, ἐπιδιώξαντες τοὺς ἐς 
+Σάρδις στρατευσαμένους Ιώνων καὶ ἐσαράξαντες 
+σφέας ἐς τὰς νέας, τῇ μάχῃ ὡς ἐπεκράτησαν, τὸ 
+ἐνθεῦτεν ἐπιδιελόμενοι τὰς πόλις ἐπόρθεον. 
+
+117. Δαυρίσης μὲν τραπόμενος πρὸς τὰς ἐν 
+Ἑλλησπόντῳ πόλις εἷλε μὲν Δάρδανον, εἷλε δὲ 
+"Αβυδόν τε καὶ Περκώτην καὶ Λάμψακον καὶ 
+Παισόν. ταύτας μὲν ἐπ᾽ ἡμέρῃ ἑκάστη aipee, 
+ἀπὸ δὲ Παισοῦ ἐλαύνοντί οἱ ἐπὶ Πάριον πόλιν 
+ἦλθε ἀγγελίη τοὺς Κᾶρας τὠυτὸ Ἴωσι φρονή- 
+σαντας ἀπεστάναι ἀπὸ Περσέων. ἆποστ έψας 
+ὧν ἐκ τοῦ Ελλησπόντου ἤλαυνε τὸν στρατὸν ἐπὶ 
+τὴν Καρίην. 
+
+118. Kaí κως ταῦτα τοῖσι Καρσὶ ἐξαγγέλθη 
+πρότερον ἡ τὸν Δαυρίσην ἀπικέσθαι: πυθόμενοι 
+δὲ οἱ Κάρες συνελέγοντο ἐπὶ Λευκάς τε στήλας 
+καλεομένας καὶ ποταμὸν Μαρσύην, ὃς ῥέων ἐκ τῆς 
+Ἱδριάδος χώρης. ἐς τὸν Μαίανδρον. ἐκδιδοῖ. συλ- 
+λεχθέντων δὲ τῶν Καρῶν ἐνθαῦτα ἐ ἐγίνοντο βουλαὶ 
+ἄλλαι τε πολλαὶ καὶ ἀρίστη ye δοκέουσα εἶναι 
+ἐμοὶ Πιξωδάρου τοῦ Μαυσώλου ἀνδρὸς Κιδυέος, 
+ὃς τοῦ Κιλίκων βασιλέος Συεννέσιος εἶχε θυγα- 
+τέρα" τούτου τοῦ ἀνδρὸς ἡ 7) γνώμη ἔφερε διαβάντας 
+τὸν Μαίανδρον τοὺς Κᾶρας καὶ κατὰ νώτου ἔχον- 
+τας τὸν ποταμὸν οὕτω συμβάλλει», ἵ ἵνα μὴ ἔχοντες 
+ὀπίσω φεύγειν οἱ Κᾶρες αὐτοῦ τε μένειν ἀναγκα- 
+ζόμενοι γινοίατο ἔτι ἀμείνονες τῆς φύσιος. αὕτη 
+
+
+1 In 497. 
+138 
+
+
+BOOK V. 116-118 
+
+
+116. So the Cyprians, having won freedom for a 
+year, were enslaved once more.! Daurises and 
+Hymaees and Otanes, all of them Persian generals 
+and married to daughters of Darius, pursued after 
+those Ionians who had marched to Sardis, and drove 
+them to their ships; after which victory they 
+divided the cities among themselves and sacked 
+them. 
+
+117. Daurises made for the cities of the Helles- 
+pont and took Dardanus, Abydus, Percote, Lamp- 
+sacus, and Paesus, each of these on its own day ; 
+and as he marched from Paesus against Parius, news 
+came to him that the Carians had made common 
+cause with the Ionians and revolted from the 
+Persians; wherefore he turned aside from the 
+Hellespont and marched his army to Caria. 
+
+118. It chanced that news of this was brought to 
+the Carians before Daurises’ coming ; and when the 
+Carians heard, they mustered at the place called 
+the White Pillars, by the river Marsyas ? which flows 
+from the region of Idria and issues into the 
+Maeander. There they mustered, and many plans 
+were laid before them, the best of which, in my 
+judgment, was that of Pixodarus of Cindya, son of 
+Mausolus (he had to wife the daughter of Syennesis, 
+king of Cilicia); the purport of Pixodarus' opinion 
+was, that the Carians should cross the Maeander and 
+fight with the river at their back, that so being 
+unable to flee and compelled to stand their ground 
+they might prove themselves even braver than 
+nature made them. Yet not this, but another 
+
+
+2 Modern Tshina; not to be confused with the better 
+known Marsyas in Phrygia, also a tributary of the 
+Maeander. 
+
+
+139 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+, , 9 7 [4 4 3 N ^ [4 
+
+μέν νυν οὐκ ἐνίκα ἡ γνώμη, ἀλλὰ τοῖσι Πέρσῃσι 
+
+. , / N / a À 
+κατὰ νώτου γίνεσθαι τὸν Μαίανδρον μᾶλλον ἡ 
+σφίσι, δηλαδὴ ἦν φυγὴ τῶν Περσέων γένηται καὶ 
+ἑσσωθέωσι τῇ συμβολῆ, ὡς οὐκ ἀπονοστήσουσι 
+ἐς τὸν ποταμὸν ἐσπίπτοντες. 
+
+119. Μετὰ δὲ παρεόντων καὶ διαβάντων τὸν 
+Μαίανδρον τῶν Περσέων, ἐνθαῦτα ἐπὶ τῷ Μαρσύῃ 
+ποταμῷ συνέβαλόὀν τε τοῖσι Πέρσῃσι οἱ Κᾶρες 
+καὶ μάχην ἐμαχέσαντο ἰσχυρὴν καὶ ἐπὶ χρόνον 
+
+[4 , e 4 N ^ 
+πολλόν, τέλος δὲ ἑσσώθησαν διὰ πλῆθος. Tep- 
+
+/ A M 3 y ? / ^ 
+σέων μὲν δὴ ἔπεσον ἄνδρες ἐς δισχιλίους, Καρῶν 
+δὲ ἐς μυρίους. ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ οἱ διαφυγόντες αὐτῶν 
+
+/ , / 3 N / 
+κατειλήθησαν ἐς Λάβραυνδα ἐς Διὸς στρατίου 
+ἱρόν, μέγα τε καὶ ἅγιον ἄλσος πλατανίστων. μοῦ- 
+
+^ ^ ^ e ld 
+νοι δὲ τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν Κᾶρες εἰσὶ of Διὶ στρατίῳ 
+θυσίας ἀνάγουσι. κατειληθέντες δὲ ὧν οὗτοι 
+
+^ e 
+ἐνθαῦτα ἐβουλεύοντο περὶ σωτηρίης, ὁκότερα ἢ 
+
+, [4 
+παραδόντες σφέας αὐτοὺς Πέρσῃσι ἢ ἐκλιπόντες 
+τὸ παράπαν τὴν ᾿Ασίην ἄμεινον πρήξουσι. 
+
+120. Βουλευομένοισι δέ σφι ταῦτα παραγίνον- 
+
+ε 
+ται βοηθέοντες Μιλήσιοί τε καὶ οἱ τούτων σύμ- 
+μαχοι' ἐνθαῦτα δὲ τὰ μὲν πρότερον οἱ Κᾶρες 
+
+, e^ ε 
+ἐβουλεύοντο μετῆκαν, of δὲ αὖτις πολεμέειν ἐξ 
+ἀρχῆς ἀρτέοντο. καὶ ἐπιοῦσί τε τοῖσι Πέρσησι 
+συμβάλλουσι καὶ μαχεσάμενοι ἐπὶ πλέον ἢ 
+
+/ ^ 
+πρὀτερον ἑσσώθησαν' πεσόντων δὲ τῶν πάντων 
+
+^ 4 / 3 / 
+πολλών μάλιστα Μιλήσιοι ἐπλήγησαν. 
+
+121. Μετὰ δὲ τοῦτο τὸ τρῶμα ἀνέλαβον τε καὶ 
+ἀνεμαχέσαντο οἱ Κᾶρες" πυθόμενοι γὰρ ὡς στρα- 
+
+΄ ε 
+τεύεσθαι ὁρμέαται οἱ Πέρσαι ἐπὶ τὰς πόλις 
+
+/ / A , / € / 3 M 
+σφέων, ἐλόχησαν τὴν ἐν Πηδάσῳ 000v, ἐς τὴν 
+
+, 
+ἐμπεσύντες οἱ Πέρσαι νυκτὸς διεφθάρησαν καὶ 
+140 
+
+
+BOOK V. 118-121 
+
+
+opinion prevailed, to wit, that the Persians and not 
+the Cilicians should have the Maeander at their 
+back, the intent being that if the Persians were 
+worsted in the battle and put to flight they should 
+not escape but be hurled into the river. 
+
+119. Presently, when the Persians had come and 
+had crossed the Maeander, they and the Carians 
+joined battle by the river Marsyas; the Carians 
+fought obstinately and long, but at the last they 
+were overcome by odds. Of the Persians there fell 
+as many as two thousand men, and of the Carians 
+ten thousand. "Those of them that escaped thence 
+were driven into the precinct of Zeus of Armies at 
+Labraunda,! a great and a holy grove of plane-trees. 
+(The Carians are the only people known to us who 
+offer sacrifices to Zeus by this name.) Being driven 
+thither, they took counsel how best to save them- 
+selves, whether it were better for them to surrender 
+themselves to the Persians or depart wholly away 
+from Asia. 
+
+120. But while they took counsel, the Milesians 
+and their allies came up to their aid; whereupon the 
+Carians put aside their former plans, and prepared 
+to wage a new war over again. They met the 
+Persian attack and suffered a heavier defeat in the 
+battle than the first; many of their whole army fell, 
+but the Milesians were hardest stricken, 
+
+121. Yet the Carians rallied and fought again 
+after this disaster; for learning that the Persians 
+had set forth to march against their cities, they 
+beset the road with an ambush at Pedasus, wherein- 
+to the Persians fell by night and perished, they and 
+
+
+1 Site of the cult of a war-god, whose emblem was the 
+λάβρυς or battle-axe. 
+
+
+141 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+αὐτοὶ καὶ οἱ στρατηγοὶ αὐτῶν Δαυρίσης καὶ 
+᾿Αμόργης καὶ Σισιμάκης' σὺν δέ σφι ἀπέθανε καὶ 
+
+ὕρσος ὁ Γύγεω. τοῦ δὲ λόχου τούτου ἡγεμὼν 
+ἦν “Ηρακλείδης Ἰβανώλλιος ἆ ἀνὴρ Μυλασσεύς. 
+
+122. Οὗτοι μέν νυν τῶν Περσέων οὕτω δι- 
+εφθάρησαν: Ὑμαίης δὲ καὶ αὐτὸς ἐὼν τῶν ἐπιδιω- 
+ξάντων τοὺς ἐς Σάρδις στρατευσαμένους Ιώνων, 
+τραπόμενος ἐς τὸν Προποντίδα εἷλε Κίον τὴν 
+Μυσίην" ταύτην δὲ ἐξελών, ὡς ἐπύθετο τὸν 
+Ἑλλήσποντον ἐκλελοιπέναι Δαυρίσην καὶ στρα- 
+τεύεσθαι è ἐπὶ Καρίης, καταλιπὼν τὴν Προποντίδα 
+ἐπὶ τὸν Ἑλλήσποντον ἦγε τὸν στρατόν, καὶ εἷλε 
+μὲν Αἰολέας πάντας ὅσοι τὴν ᾿Ιλιάδα νέμονται, 
+εἷλε δὲ Γ έργιθας τοὺς ὑπολειφθέντας τῶν ἀρχαίων 
+Τευκρῶν: αὐτός τε Ὑμαίης αἱρέων ταῦτα τὰ 
+ἔθνεα νούσῳ τελευτᾷ ἐν τῇ Τρῳάδι. 
+
+128. Οὗτος μὲν δὴ οὕτω ἐτελεύτησε, Apta- 
+φρένης δὲ ὁ Σαρδίων ὕπαρχος καὶ Ὀτάνης ὁ 
+τρύτος στρατηγὸς ἐτάχθησαν ἐπὶ τὴν Ἰωνίην καὶ 
+τὴν προσεχέα Αἰολίδα στρατεύεσθαι. Ἰωνίης 
+μέν νυν Κλαξομενὰς αἱρέουσι, Αἰολέων δὲ Κύμην. 
+
+124. Αλισκομενέων δὲ τῶν πολίων, ἦν γὰρ ὡς 
+διέδεξε᾽ ᾿Αρισταγόρης ὁ Μιλήσιος ψυχὴν οὐκ 
+ἄκρος, ὃς ταράξας τὴν ᾿Ιωνύην καὶ ἐγκερασάμενος 
+πρήγματα. μεγάλα δρησμὸν ἐβούλευε ὀρέων ταῦτα" 
+πρὸς δέ οἱ καὶ ἀδύνατα ἐφάνη βασιλέα Δαρεῖον 
+ὑπερβαλέσθαι: πρὸς ταῦτα δὴ ὧν συγκαλέσας 
+τοὺς συστασιώτας ἐβουλεύετο, λέγων. ὡς ἄμεινον 
+σφίσι εἴη κρησφύγετόν τι ὑπάρχον εἶναι, ἦν ἄρα 
+ἐξωθέωνται ἐ ἐκ τῆς Μιλήτου, εἴτε δὴ ὧν ἐς Σαρδὼ 
+ἐκ τοῦ τόπου τούτου ἄγοι ἐς ἀποικίην, εἴτε ἐς 
+
+
+142 
+
+
+ΒΟΟΚ V. 121-124 
+
+
+their generals, Daurises and Amorges and Sisimaces ; 
+and with these fell also Myrsus, son of Gyges. The 
+captain of this ambuscade was Heraclides of Mylasas, 
+son of Ibanollis. 
+
+122. Thus did these Persians perish. Hymaees, 
+
+who had also been one of those who pursued after 
+the Ionians who marched on Sardis, turned now to- 
+wards the Propontis, and there took Cius in Mysia ; 
+having subdued which, when he heard that Daurises 
+had left the Hellespont and was marching towards 
+Caria, he left the Propontis and led his army to the 
+Hellespont, and made himself master of all the 
+Aeolians that dwell in the territory of Ilium, and of 
+the Gergithae, who are all the remnant that is left 
+of the ancient Teucri; but while he was conquering 
+these nations, Hymaees himself died of a sickness in 
+the Troad. 
+. 123. So he died there ; and Artaphrenes, viceroy 
+of Sardis, and Otanes, the third general, were 
+appointed to lead the army against Ionia and the 
+Aeolian territory on its borders. They took Clazo- 
+menae in Ionia, and in Aeolia Cyme. 
+
+124. Aristagoras the Milesian was a man of no 
+high courage, as he plainly showed; for after he 
+had troubled Ionia and thrown all into dire con- 
+fusion, when he saw what he had done he began to 
+bethink himself of flight ; and moreover it seemed 
+to him to be impossible to overcome Darius; where- 
+fore, while the cities were being taken, he called his 
+fellow-rebels together and took counsel with them, 
+saying that it was best for them to have some place 
+of refuge provided, if they should be thrust out of 
+Miletus; and questioning whether he should lead 
+them thence to a settlement in Sardo, or Myrcinus 
+
+
+143 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Μύρκινον τὴν Ἠδωνῶν, τὴν Ἱστιαῖος ἐτείχεε 
+παρὰ Δαρείου δωρεὴν λαβών. ταῦτα ἐπειρώτα 
+ὁ ᾿Αρισταγόρης. 
+
+195. Ἑκαταίου μέν͵ νυν τοῦ Ἡγησάνδρου, 
+ἀνδρὸς λογοποιοῦ, τουτέων μὲν ἐς οὐδετέρην στέλ- 
+λειν ἔφερε ἡ γνώμη, ἐν | Λέρῳ δὲ τῇ νήσῳ τεῖχος 
+οἶκο μησάμενον ἡσυχίην ἆγειν, ἦν ἐκπέσῃ ἐκ 
+τῆς Μιλήτου: ἔπειτα δὲ ἐκ ταύτης ὁρμώμενον 
+κατελεύσεσθαι és τὴν Μίλητον. 
+
+126. Ταῦτα μὲν δὴ “Ἑκαταῖος συνεβούλευε, 
+αὐτῷ δὲ ᾿Αρισταγόρῃ 7 πλείστη γνώμη ἣν ἐς 
+τὴν Μύρκινον ἀπάγειν. τὴν μὲν δὴ Μίλητον 
+ἐπιτράπει Πυθαγόρῃ. ἀνδρὶ τῶν ἀστῶν δοκίμῳ, 
+αὐτὸς δὲ παραλαβὼν πάντα τὸν βουλόμενον 
+ἔπλεε ἐς τὴν Θ ηίκην, καὶ ἔσχε τὴν χώρην ἐπ᾽ 
+ἣν ἐστάλη! ἐκ i ταύτης ὁρμώμενος ἀπόλλυται 
+ὑπὸ Θρηίκων αὐτός τε ὁ ᾿Αρισταγόρης καὶ ὁ 
+στρατὸς αὐτοῦ, πόλιν περικατήμενος καὶ βουλο- 
+μένων τῶν Θρηίκων ὑποσπόνδων ἐξιέναι. 
+
+
+144 
+
+
+BOOK V. 124-126 
+
+
+in Edonia, which Histiaeus had received as a gift from 
+Darius and fortified. Thus questioned Aristagoras. 
+
+125. Hecataeus the historian, son of Hegesander, 
+inclined to the opinion that they should set forth to 
+neither of these places, but that Aristagoras should 
+build him a fortress in the island of Leros and there 
+abide, if he were driven from Miletus; and after- 
+wards he might set out from thence and return to 
+Miletus. 
+
+190. Such was the counsel of Hecataeus, but 
+Aristagoras himself deemed it best to take his 
+departure for Myrcinus. So he entrusted Miletus 
+to Pythagoras, a citizen of repute, and himself 
+sailed to Thrace with any that would follow him, 
+and took possession of the place whither he had set 
+out; and issuing from thence he was put to the 
+sword by the Thracians, he and his army, while he 
+beleaguered a town, even though the Thracians 
+were ready to depart from it under treaty. 
+
+
+145 
+VOL. III L 
+
+
+BOOK νι 
+
+
+L 2 
+
+
+Z 
+
+
+1. ᾽Αρισταγόρης μέν vvv Ἰωνίην ἀποστήσας 
+ο e^ e ^ . [4 / 
+οὕτω τελευτᾷ. “Ἱστιαῖος δὲ ὁ Μιλήτου τύραννος 
+μεμετιμένος ὑπὸ Δαρείου παρῆν ἐς Σάρδις" ἀπιγ- 
+μένον δὲ αὐτὸν ἐκ τῶν Σούσων εἴρετο ᾿Αρταφρένης 
+ε ^ 
+0 Σαρδίων ὕπαρχος κατὰ κοῖόν τι δοκέοι "ovas 
+, / » , Ww , , / A 
+ἀπεστάναι. ὃ δὲ οὔτε εἰδέναι ἔφη ἐθώμαξέ τε τὸ 
+γεγονός, ὡς οὐδὲν δῆθεν τῶν παρεόντων πρηγμά- 
+των ἐπιστάμενος. ὁ δὲ ᾿Αρταφρένης ὀρέων αὐτὸν 
+τεχνάζοντα εἶπε, εἰδὼς τὴν ἀτρεκείην τῆς amro- 
+στάσιος, ' Οὕτω τοι Ἱστιαῖε ἔχει κατὰ ταῦτα τὰ 
+’ - 
+πρήγματα' τοῦτο τὸ ὑπόδημα ἔρραψας μὲν σύ, 
+ὑπεδήσατο δὲ ᾿Αρισταγόρης." 
+9 ^ 
+2. ᾿Αρταφρένης μὲν ταῦτα ἐς τὴν ἀπόστασιν 
+ἔχοντα εἶπε. Ἱστιαῖος δὲ δείσας ὡς συνιέντα Apra- 
+φρένεα ὑπὸ τὴν πρώτην ἐπελθοῦσαν νύκτα ἀπέδρη 
+Σιν / / ^ 3 ΄ ^ 
+ἐπὶ θάλασσαν, βασιλέα Δαρεῖον ἐξηπατηκώς: ὃς 
+Σαρδὼ νῆσον τὴν μεγίστην ὑποδεξάμενος κατεργά- 
+σασθαι ὑπέδυνε τῶν ᾿Ιώνων τὴν ἡγεμονίην τοῦ 
+* ^ 
+πρὸς Δαρεῖον πολέμου. διαβὰς δὲ ἐς Χίον ἐδέθη 
+N ^ 
+ὑπὸ Χίων, καταγνωσθεὶς πρὸς αὐτῶν νεώτερα 
+, 
+πρήσσειν πρήγματα ἐς αὐτοὺς ἐκ Δαρείου. μα- 
+/ ^ 
+ὄντες μέντοι ot Χῖοι τὸν πάντα λόγον, ὡς 
+/ 5 / Ww , [4 
+πολέμιος εἴη βασιλέι, ἔλυσαν αὐτὸν. 
+
+
+148 
+
+
+BOOK VI 
+
+
+1. Tuis was the end of Aristagoras, after he had 
+brought about the Ionian revolt. But Histiaeus, 
+the despot of Miletus, being let go by Darius, 
+arrived in Sardis. When he came thither from 
+Susa, Artaphrenes the governor of Sardis asked him 
+for what reason he supposed the Ionians to have 
+rebelled; Histiaeus said that he did not know, and 
+that he marvelled at what had happened; pretend- 
+ing to have no knowledge of the present troubles. 
+But Artaphrenes saw that he dissembled, and said, 
+speaking out of his exact knowledge of the story of 
+the revolt: *I will tell you, Histiaeus, the truth of 
+this business: it was you that stitched this shoe, and 
+Aristagoras that put it on." 
+
+2. Thus said Artaphrenes regarding the revolt; 
+and Histiaeus, affrighted by Artaphrenes’ under- 
+standing of the matter, fled at the next nightfall to 
+the sea; for he had deceived Darius, promising to 
+subdue Sardo, the greatest of the islands, with 
+secret intent to make himself leader of the Ionians 
+in their war against Darius. Crossing over to Chios, 
+he was taken and bound by the Chians, they judging 
+him to be sent by Darius to do them some mischief ; 
+howbeit when they learnt the whole story of his 
+enmity to the king they set him free. 
+
+
+149 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+3. ᾿Ενθαῦτα δὴ. εὐρωτώμενος ὑπὸ τῶν ᾿Ιώνων 
+ὁ Ἱστιαῖος κατ ὅ τι προθύμως οὕτω ἐπέστειλε 
+τῷ ᾿Αρισταγόρῃ ἀπίστασθαι ἀπὸ βασιλέος καὶ 
+κακὸν τοσοῦτον εἴη Ἴωνας ἐξεργασμένος, τὴν μὲν 
+γενομένην αὐτοῖσι αἰτίην οὐ μάλα ἐξέφαινε, ὃ δὲ 
+ἔλεγέ σφι ὡς Βασιλεὺς Δαρεῖος ἐβουλεύσατο 
+Φοίνικας μὲν ἐξαναστήσας. ἐν τῇ. levi κατοικί- 
+σαι, Ἴωνας δὲ ἐν τῇ Φοινίκῃ, καὶ τούτων εἵνεκα 
+ἐπιστείλειε. οὐδέν τι πάντως ταῦτα βασιλέος 
+βουλευσαμένου ἐδειμάτου τοὺς Ἴωνας. 
+
+4. Μετὰ δὲ ὁ Ἱστιαῖος δι ἀγγέλου ποιεύμενος 
+Ἑρμίππου ἀνδρὸς. ᾿Αταρνίτεω τοῖσι ἐν Σάρδισι 
+ἐοῦσι Περσέων ἔπεμπε βυβλία, ὡς προλελε- 
+σχηνευμένων αὐτῷ. ἀποστάσιος πέρ. ὁ δὲ 
+
+""ρμιππος πρὸς τοὺς μὲν ἀπεπέμφθη οὗ διδοῖ, 
+φέρων δὲ ἐνεχείρισε τὰ βυβλία Apraó évei’ ὃ δὲ 
+μαθὼν πᾶν τὸ γινόμενον ἐκέλευε τὸν "Ερμιππον 
+τὰ μὲν παρὰ τοῦ Ἱστιαίου δοῦναι «φέροντα τοῖσί 
+περ ἔφερε, τὰ δὲ ἀμοιβαῖα τὰ παρὰ τῶν Περσέων 
+ἀντιπεμπόμενα Ἱστιαίῳ ἑωντῷ δοῦναι. τούτων 
+δὲ γενομένων φανερῶν ἀπέκτεινε ἐνθαῦτα πολλοὺς 
+Περσέων ὁ ᾿Αρταφρένης. 
+
+δ. Περὶ Σάρδις μὲν δὴ ἐγίνετο ταραχή. Ἶσ- 
+τιαῖον δὲ ταύτης ἀποσφαλέντα τῆς ἐλπίδος Χῖοι 
+κατῆγον ἐς Μίλητον, αὐτοῦ Ἱστιαίου δεηθέντος. 
+οἱ δὲ Μιλήσιοι, ἄσμενοι ἁπαλλαχθέντες καὶ 
+᾿Αρισταγόρεω, οὐδαμῶς πρόθυμοι ἦσαν ἄλλον 
+τύραννον δέκεσθαι ἐς τὴν χώρην, οἷα ἐλευθερίης 
+γευσάμενοι. καὶ δὴ νυκτὸς γὰρ ovens Bin 
+ἐπειρᾶτο κατιὼν ὁ Ἱστιαῖος ἐς τὴν Μίλητον, 
+τιτρώσκεται τὸν μηρὸν ὑπό Tev τῶν Μιλησίων. 
+ὃ μὲν δὴ ὡς ἀπωστὸς τῆς ἑωυτοῦ γίνεται, ar- 
+
+
+150 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 3-5 
+
+
+3. Then Histiaeus was asked by the Ionians, why 
+he had so zealously charged Aristagoras to revolt 
+from the king and done the Ionians so great harm; 
+the true reason he did by no means reveal to them, 
+but told them instead that king Darius had planned 
+to remove the Phoenicians and settle them in Ionia, 
+and the Ionians in Phoenice; for this reason, he 
+said, he had sent the charge. No such plan had 
+the king made; but Histiaeus would affright the 
+Ionians. 
+
+4. Presently  Histiaeus, using for messenger 
+Hermippus, a man of Atarneus, sent letters to the 
+Persians at Sardis; this he did, because they had 
+ere now held converse with him about revolt. But 
+Hermippus gave not these letters to those to whom 
+he was sent, and carried and delivered them to 
+Artaphrenes instead. Artaphrenes, learning all that 
+was afoot, bade Hermippus carry Histiaeus' letters 
+to those for whom he was bringing them, and give 
+him those which the Persians sent in answer to 
+Histiaeus. Thus these men became known to 
+
+
+Artaphrenes, and he put many Persians there and 
+then to death. | 
+
+5. So troubles arose in Sardis. Histiaeus being 
+disappointed of this hope, the Chians brought him 
+back to Miletus, at his own entreaty. But the 
+Milesians were glad enough to be rid of Aristagoras 
+himself, and had no wish to receive another despot 
+into their country, now that they had tasted of 
+freedom; and when Histiaeus essayed by night to 
+force his way into Miletus, he was wounded by a 
+Milesian in the thigh. So, being thrust out from 
+
+
+151 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ικνέεται ὀπίσω ἐς τὴν Χίον: ἐνθεῦτεν δέ, οὐ γὰρ 
+ἔπειθε τοὺς Χίους ὥστε ἑωυτῷ δοῦναι νέας, διέβη 
+ἐς Μυτιλήνην καὶ ἔπεισε Λεσβίους δοῦναί οἱ 
+νέας. οἳ δὲ πληρώσαντες ὀκτὼ τριήρεας ἔπλεον 
+ἅμα Ἱστιαίῳ ἐς Βυζάντιον, ἐνθαῦτα δὲ ἱξόμενοι 
+τὰς ἐκ τοῦ Πόντου ἐκπλεούσας τῶν νεῶν ἐλάμ- 
+βανον, πλὴν ἢ ὅσοι αὐτῶν Ἱστιαίῳ ἔφασαν 
+ἕτοιμοι εἶναι πείθεσθαι. 
+
+6. Ἱστιαῖος μέν νυν καὶ Μυτιληναῖοι ἐποίευν 
+ταῦτα. ἐπὶ δὲ Μίλητον αὐτὴν ναυτικὸς πολλὸς 
+καὶ πεξὸς ἦν στρατὸς προσδόκιμος" συστραφέντες 
+yàp οἱ στρατηγοὶ τῶν Περσέων καὶ ἓν ποιήσαντες 
+στρατόπεδον ἤλαυνον ἐπὶ τὴν Μίλητον, τἆλλα 
+πολίσματα περὶ ἐλάσσονος ποιησάμενοι. τοῦ δὲ 
+ναυτικοῦ Φοίνικες μὲν ἦσαν προθυμότατοι, συνε- 
+στρατεύοντο δὲ καὶ Κύπριοι νεωστὶ κατεστραμ- 
+μένοι καὶ Κίλικές τε καὶ Αἰγύπτιοι. 
+
+7. Ot μὲν én ἐπὶ τὴν Μίλητον καὶ τὴν ἄλλην 
+Ἰωνίην ἐστρατεύοντο, Ἴωνες δὲ πυνθανόµενοι 
+ταῦτα ἔπεμπον προβούλους σφέων αὐτῶν ἐς 
+Πανιώνιον. ἀπικομένοισι δὲ τούτοισι ἐς τοῦτον 
+τὸν χῶρον καὶ βουλευομένοισι ἔδοξε πεξὸν μὲν 
+στρατὸν μηδένα συλλέγειν ἀντίξοον Πέρσῃσι, ἀλλὰ 
+τὰ τείχεα ῥύεσθαι αὐτοὺς Μιλησίους, τὸ δὲ ναυτι- 
+κὸν πληροῦν ὑπολιπομένους μηδεμίαν τῶν νεῶν, 
+πληρώσαντας δὲ συλλέγεσθαι τὴν ταχίστην ἐς 
+Λάδην προναυμαχήσοντας τῆς Μιλήτου. ἡ δὲ 
+Λάδη ἐ ἐστὶ νῆσος μικρὴ ἐπὶ τῇ πόλι τῇ Μιλησίων 
+κειμένη. 
+
+8. Μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα πεπληρωμένῃσι τῇσι νηυσὶ 
+παρῆσαν οἱ Ἴωνες, σὺν δέ σφι καὶ Αἰολέων ὅ ὅσοι 
+τὴν Λέσβον νέμονται. ἐτάσσοντο δὲ ὧδε. τὸ μὲν 
+152 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 5-8 
+
+
+his own city, he went back to Chios; and there, 
+when he could not persuade the Chians to give him 
+ships, he crossed over to Mytilene and strove to 
+persuade the Lesbians to give him ships. They 
+manned eight triremes, and sailed with Histiaeus to 
+Byzantium ; there they encamped, and seized all the 
+ships that were sailing out of the Euxine, save when 
+the crews consented to serve Histiaeus. 
+
+6. Such were the doings of Histiaeus and the 
+Mytilenaeans. As regards Miletus itself, there was 
+expectation of a great fleet and army coming against 
+it; for the Persian generals had joined their power 
+together and made one host, which they led against 
+Miletus, taking less account of the other fortresses. 
+Of the fleet, the Phoenicians were the most eager 
+to fight, and there came with them to the war 
+the newly subdued Cyprians, and the Cilicians and 
+Egyptians. 
+
+7. These then coming to attack Miletus and the 
+rest of Ionia, the Ionians, when they had word of it, 
+sent men of their own to take counsel for them in 
+the Panionium.! These, when they came to that 
+place and there consulted, resolved to raise no land 
+army to meet the Persians, but to leave the 
+Milesians themselves to defend their walls, and to 
+man their fleet to the last ship and muster with all 
+speed at Lade, there to fight for Miletus at sea. - 
+This Lade is an islet lying off the city of Miletus. 
+
+8. The Ionians came presently thither with their 
+ships manned, and as many Aeolians with them as 
+dwell in Lesbos. And this was their order of 
+
+
+1 Cp. I. 148. 
+153 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+πρὸς τὴν ἠῶ εἶχον κέρας αὐτοὶ Μιλήσιοι, νέας 
+παρε όμενοι ὀγδώκοντα: εἴχοντο δὲ τούτων Πριη- 
+νέες Ἐνώδεκα νηυσὶ καὶ Μυήσιοι τρισὶ νηυσί, 
+Μυησίων δὲ Τήιοι εἴχοντο ἑπτακαίδεκα νηυσί, 
+Τηίων δὲ εἴχοντο Χῖοι ἑκατὸν νηυσί πρὸς δὲ 
+τούτοισι ᾿Ερυθραῖοί τε ἐτάσσοντο καὶ Φωκαέες, 
+᾿Ερυθραῖοι μὲν ὀκτὼ νέας παρεχόμενοι, Φωκαέες 
+δὲ τρεῖς Φωκαέων δὲ εἴχοντο Λέσβιοι | νηυσὶ 
+ἑβδομήκοντα. τελευταῖοι δὲ ἐτάσσοντο ἔχοντες 
+τὸ πρὸς ἑσπέρην κέρας Σάμιοι ἑξήκοντα νηυσί. 
+πάντων δὲ τούτων 0 σύμπας .ἀριθμὸς ἐγένετο 
+τρεῖς καὶ πεντήκοντα καὶ τριηκόσιαι τριήρεες. 
+
+9. Αὗται μὲν ᾿Ιώνων ἦσαν, τῶν δὲ Βαρβάρων 
+τὸ πλῆθος τῶν νεῶν ἦσαν ἑξακόσιαι. ὡς δὲ καὶ 
+αὗται ἀπίκατο πρὸς τὴν Μιλησίην καὶ ὁ πεξός 
+σφι ἅπας παρῆν, ἐνθαῦτα οἱ Περσέων στρατηγοὶ 
+πυθόμενοι τὸ πλῆθος τῶν Ἰάδων νεῶν καταρ- 
+ρώδησαν μὴ οὐ δυνατοὶ γένωνται ὑπερβαλέσθαι, 
+καὶ οὕτω οὔτε τὴν Μίλητον οἷοί τε ἔωσι ἐξελεῖν 
+μὴ οὐκ ἐόντες ναυκράτορες, πρός τε Δαρείου κιν- 
+δυνεύσωσι κακὸν τι λαβεῖν. ταῦτα ἐπιλεγόμενοι, 
+συλλέξαντες τῶν ᾿]ώνων τοὺς τυράννους, of ὑπ᾽ 
+᾿Αρισταγόρεω μὲν τοῦ Μιλησίου καταλυθέντες 
+τῶν ἀρχέων ἔφευγον ἐς Μήδους, ἐτύγχανον δὲ 
+τότε συστρατευόμενοι ἐπὶ τὴν Μίλητον, τούτων 
+τῶν ἀνδρῶν τοὺς παρεόντας συγκαλέσαντες 
+ἔλεγόν σφι τάδε. “' "Ανδρες Ἴωνες, νῦν τις ὑμέων 
+εὖ ποιήσας φανήτω τὸν βασιλέος οἶκον' τοὺς 
+γὰρ ἑωυτοῦ ἕκαστος ὑμέων πολιήτας πειράσθω 
+ἀποσχίξων ἀπὸ τοῦ λοιποῦ συμμαχικοῦ. προ- 
+ἴσχόμενοι δὲ ἐπαγγείλασθε τάδε, ὡς πείσονταί τε 
+ἄχαρι οὐδὲν διὰ τὴν ἀπόστασιν, οὐδέ σφι οὔτε 
+
+
+154 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 8-9 
+
+
+battle :—-The Milesians themselves had the eastern 
+wing, bringing eighty ships; next to them were 
+the men of Priene with twelve ships, and they of 
+Myus with three; next to the men of Myus were 
+the men of Teos with seventeen ships; next to 
+these the Chians with a hundred ; near these in the 
+line were the Erythraeans, bringing eight ships, and 
+the Phocaeans with three, and next to these the 
+Lesbians with seventy; last of all in the line were 
+the Samians, holding the western wing with sixty 
+ships. All these together attained to the number of 
+three hundred and fifty-three triremes. 
+
+9. These were the Ionian ships; the ships of the 
+foreigners were six hundred. Now these, too, being 
+come to the Milesian shore, and all their land power 
+being there, the Persian generals, when they learnt 
+the number of the Ionian ships, began to fear lest 
+they should be too weak to overcome the Greeks, 
+and thereby, if they had not the mastery of the sea, 
+should fail of taking Miletus and peradventure be 
+evilly entreated by Darius. Having this in mind, 
+they assembled the despots of the Ionians, who had 
+been deposed from their governments by Aristagoras 
+of Miletus and had fled to the Medes, and were now 
+as it chanced with the army that was led against 
+Miletus; they assembled, I say, as many of these as 
+were with them, and thus they addressed them: 
+* Men of Ionia, let each one of you now show that 
+he has done good service to the king's house; let 
+every one of you essay severally to separate his own 
+countrymen from the rest of the allied power. Set 
+this before them, and promise withal, that they shall 
+suffer no hurt for their rebellion, and that neither 
+
+
+155 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τὰ ἱρὰ οὔτε τὰ ἴδια ἐ ἐμπεπρήσεται, οὐδὲ βιαιότερον 
+ἕξουσι οὐδὲν ἡ ἢ πρότερον εἶχον. εἰ δὲ ταῦτα μὲν 
+οὐ ποιήσουσι, οἳ δὲ πάντως διὰ μάχης. ἐλεύσονται, 
+τάδε ἤδη σφι λέγετε ἐπηρεάξοντες, τά περ σφέας 
+κατέξει, ὡς ἑσσωθέντες τῇ μάχῃ ἐξανδραπο- 
+διεῦνται, καὶ ὡς σφέων τοὺς παῖδας ἐκτομίας 
+ποιήσομεν, τὰς δὲ παρθένους ἀνασπάστους ἐς 
+Βάκτρα, καὶ ὡς τὴν χώρην ἄλλοισι παραδώ- 
+σομεν. 
+
+10. Οἳ μὲν δὴ ἔλεγον τάδε. τῶν δὲ Ἰώνων οἱ 
+τύραννοι διέπεμπον νυκτὸς ἕκαστος ἐς τοὺς ἑωυτοῦ 
+ἐξαγγελλόμενος. οἱ δὲ "Ίωνες, ἐς τοὺς καὶ dr- 
+ἵκοντο αὗται αἱ ἀγγελίαι, ἀγνωμοσύνῃ τε διεχρέων- 
+το καὶ οὐ προσίεντο τὴν προδοσίην" ἑωυτοῖσι δὲ 
+ἕκαστοι ἐδόκεον μούνοισι ταῦτα τοὺς Πέρσας 
+ἐξαγγέλλεσθαι. 
+
+11. Ταῦτα μέν νυν ἰθέως ἀπικομένων ἐς τὴν 
+Μίλητον τῶν Περσέων ἐγίνετο’ μετὰ δὲ τῶν 
+Ιώνων συλλεχθέντων ἐς τὴν Λάδην ἐγίνοντο 
+ἀγοραί, καὶ δή κού σφι καὶ ἄλλοι ἠγορόωντο, 
+ἐν δὲ δὴ καὶ o Φωκαεὺς στρατηγὸς Διονύσιος 
+λέγων τάδε. «Eri ξυροῦ γὰρ, ἀκμῆς ἔχεται ἡμῖν 
+τὰ πρήγματα, ἄνδρες Ἴωνες, ἢ εἶναι ἐλευθέροισι 
+ἢ δούλοισι, καὶ τούτοισι ὡς δρηπέτῃσι' νῦν ὧν 
+ὑμεῖς ἦν μὲν βούλησθε ταλαιπωρίαξ ἐνδέκεσθαι, 
+τὸ παραχρῆμα μὲν πόνος ὑμῖν ἔσται, οἷοί τε δὲ 
+ἔσεσθε ὑπερβαλόμενοι τοὺς ἐναντίους εἶναι ἐλεύ- 
+θεροι' εἰ δὲ μαλακίῃ τε καὶ ἀταξίῃ διαχρήσησθε, 
+οὐδεμίαν ὑμέων ἔχω ἐλπίδα μὴ οὐ δώσειν ὑμέας 
+δίκην βασιλέι. τῆς. ἀποστάσιος. ἀλλ᾽ ἐμοί τε 
+πείθεσθε καὶ ἐμοὶ ὑμέας αὐτοὺς ἐπιτρέψατε' καὶ 
+ὑμῖν ἐγώ, θεῶν τὰ ἴσα νεμόντων, ὑποδέκομαι ἢ 
+156 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 9-11 
+
+
+their temples shall be burnt nor their houses, nor 
+shall they in any regard be more violently used than 
+aforetime. But if they will not be so guided, and 
+nothing will serve them but fighting, then utter a 
+threat that shall put constraint upon them, and tell 
+them that if they are worsted in battle they shall be 
+enslaved; we will make eunuchs of their boys, and 
+carry their maidens captive to Bactra, and deliver 
+their land to others." 
+
+10. Thus said the generals; the Ionian despots 
+sent their messages by night, each to his own 
+countrymen; but the Jonians to whom these 
+messages did indeed come were stubborn and would 
+have none of the treachery, each part thinking that 
+the Persians made this offer to it alone. 
+
+11. This befel immediately after the Persians’ 
+coming to Miletus. Presently, the Ionians being 
+gathered at Lade, assemblies of them were held; 
+among those whom I suppose to have addressed 
+them were Dionysius the Phocaean general, who 
+spoke thus: ‘Our cause, Ionians, stands on the 
+very razor-edge of decision whether we be freemen 
+or slaves, yea, runaway slaves; now therefore if 
+you consent to endure hardness, you will have toil 
+for the present time, but it will be in your power to 
+overcome your enemies and gain freedom; but if 
+you will still be slothful and disorderly, I see nothing 
+that can save you from being punished by the king 
+for your rebellion. Nay, do you take my word, and 
+entrust yourselves to me; and I promise you that 
+(if heaven deal fairly with us) either our enemies 
+
+
+157 
+
+
+HERODOTUS | 
+
+
+ov συμμίξειν τοὺς πολεμίους ἢ συμμίσγοντας 
+πολλὸν ἐλασσωθήσεσθαι.” 
+
+12. Ταῦτα ἀκούσαντες οἱ Ἴωνες ἐπιτράπουσι 
+σφέας αὐτοὺς τῷ Διονυσίῳ. ὃ δὲ ἀνάγων ἑκάστοτε 
+ἐπὶ κέρας τὰς νέας, ὅκως τοῖσι ἐρέτῃσι χρήσαιτο 
+διέκπλοον ποιεύμενος τῇσι νηυσὶ δι ἀλληλέων 
+καὶ τοὺς ἐπιβάτας ὁπλίσειε, τὸ λοιπὸν τῆς ἡμέρης 
+τὰς νέας ἔχεσκε ἐπ᾽ ἀγκυρέων, παρεῖχέ τε τοῖσι 
+Ἴωσι πόνον δι ἡμέρης. μέχρι μέν νυν ἡμερέων 
+ἑπτὰ ἐπείθοντό τε καὶ ἐποίευν τὸ κελευόμενον: 
+τῇ δὲ ἐπὶ ταύτῃσι οἱ Ἴωνες, οἷα ἀπαθέες ἐόντες 
+πόνων τοιούτων τετρυμένοι τε ταλαιπωρίησί τε 
+καὶ ἡλίῳ, ἔλεξαν πρὸς ἑωυτοὺς τάδε. “Tiva 
+δαιμόνων παραβάντες τάδε ἀναπίμπλαμεν; οἵτινες 
+παραφρονήσαντες καὶ ἐκπλώσαντες ἐκ τοῦ νόου 
+ἀνδρὶ Φωκαέι ἀλαξόνι, παρεχομένῳ νέας τρεῖς, ἐπι- 
+τρέψαντες ἡμέας αὐτοὺς ἔχομεν: ὃ δὲ παραλαβὼν 
+ἡμέας λυμαίνεται λύμησι ἀνηκέστοισι, καὶ δὴ 
+πολλοὶ μὲν ἡμέων ἐς νούσους πεπτώκασι, πολλοὶ 
+δὲ ἐπίδοξοι τὠυτὸ τοῦτο πείσεσθαι εἰσί, πρό τε 
+τούτων τῶν κακῶν ἡμῖν γε κρέσσον καὶ ὅ τι ὧν 
+ἄλλο παθεῖν ἐστι καὶ τὴν μέλλουσαν δουληίην 
+ὑπομεῖναι ἥτις ἔσται, μᾶλλον ἢ τῇ παρεούσῃ 
+συνέχεσθαι. φέρετε, τοῦ λοιποῦ μὴ πειθώμεθα 
+αὐτοῦ. ταῦτα ἔλεξαν, καὶ μετὰ ταῦτα αὐτίκα 
+πείθεσθαι οὐδεὶς ἤθελε, GAN οἷα στρατιὴ 
+σκηνάς τε πηξάμενοι ἐν τῇ νήσῳ ἐσκιητροφέοντο 
+καὶ ἐσβαίνειν οὐκ ἐθέλεσκον ἐς τὰς νέας οὐδ᾽ 
+ἀναπειρᾶσθαι. 
+
+13. Μαθόντες δὲ ταῦτα τὰ γινόμενα ἐκ τῶν 
+Ἰώνων οἱ στρατηγοὶ τῶν Σαμίων ἐνθαῦτα δὴ παρ᾽ 
+
+
+158 
+
+
+x 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 11-13 
+
+
+shall not meet us in battle, or if they so do they 
+shall be utterly vanquished." 
+
+12. When the Ionians heard this, they put them- 
+selves in Dionysius hands. He then ever put out 
+to sea with ships in column, and having used the 
+rowers to pierce each other's line of ships,! and 
+armed the fighting men on board, he would for 
+the rest of the day keep the fleet at anchor; 
+all day he made the Ionians work. For seven 
+days they obeyed him and did his bidding; but 
+on the next day, untried as they were in such 
+labour and worn out by hard work and the sun's 
+heat, the Ionians began to say each to other, 
+* Against what god have we sinned that we fulfil 
+this hard measure? We have gone clean daft and 
+launched out into folly, committing ourselves into 
+the hands of this Phocaean braggart, who brings but 
+three ships; and having got us he afflicts us with 
+afflictions incurable, whereby many of us have fallen 
+sick already and many are like so to do; better than 
+these ills it were for us to endure any and every lot, 
+and abide this coming slavery whatsoever it be, 
+rather than be oppressed by that which is now upon 
+us. Marry, let us obey him no longer!" Thus they 
+said ; and from that day no man would obey: they 
+built them booths on the island (as though they had 
+been an army) wherein they lived sheltered from the 
+sun, and never would embark in their ships nor 
+exercise themselves therein. 
+
+13. But when the generals of the Samians learnt 
+of this that the Ionians did, they bethought them of 
+
+
+1 This manœuvre consisted in forcing a way through the 
+enemy's line and attacking the broadside or stern of his 
+ships. 
+
+
+159 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Αἰάκεος τοῦ Συλοσῶντος κείνους τοὺς πρότερον 
+ἔπεμπε λόγους ὁ Αἰάκης κελευόντων τῶν Περσέων, 
+δεόμενος σφέων ἐκλιπεῖν τὴν ᾿Ιώνων συμμαχίην' 
+οἱ Σάμιοι ὧν ὁρῶντες ἐοῦσαν ἅμα μὲν ἀταξίην 
+πολλὴν ἐκ τῶν Ἰώνων ἐδέκοντο τοὺς λόγους, ἅμα 
+δὲ κατεφαίνετό σφι εἶναι ἀδύνατα τὰ βασιλέος 
+πρήγματα ὑπερβαλέσθαι, εὖ δὲ ἐπιστάμενοι ὡς 
+εἰ καὶ τὸ παρεὸν ναυτικὸν ὑπερβαλοίατο τὸν 
+Δαρεῖον, ἄλλο σφι παρέσται πενταπλήσιον. προ- 
+φάσιος ὧν ἐπιλαβόμενοι, ἐπείτε τάχιστα εἶδον 
+τοὺς Ἴωνας οὐ βουλομένους εἶναι χρηστούς, ἐν 
+κέρδει ἐποιεῦντο περιποιῆσαι Ta τε ἱρὰ τὰ 
+σφέτερα καὶ τὰ ἴδια. ὁ δὲ Αἰάκης, παρ᾽ ὅτευ 
+τοὺς λόγους ἐδέκοντο οἱ Σάμιοι, παῖς μὲν ἣν 
+Συλοσῶντος τοῦ Αἰάκεος, τύραννος δὲ ἐὼν Σάμου 
+ὑπὸ τοῦ Μιλησίου ᾿Αρισταγόρεω ἀπεστέρητο 
+τὴν ἀρχὴν κατά περ οἱ ἄλλοι τῆς Ἰωνίης 
+τύραννοι. 
+
+14, Τότε ὧν ἐπεὶ ἐπέπλεον οἱ Φοίνικες, οἱ 
+loves ἀντανῆγον καὶ αὐτοὶ τὰς νέας ἐπὶ κέρας. 
+ὡς δὲ καὶ ἀγχοῦ ἐγίνοντο καὶ συνέμισγον ἀλλή- 
+λοισι, τὸ ἐνθεῦτεν οὐκ ἔχω ἀτρεκέως συγγράψαι 
+οἵτινες τῶν Ιώνων ἐγίνοντο ἄνδρες κακοὶ ἢ ἀγαθοὶ 
+ἐν τῇ ναυμαχίῃ ταύτῃ' ἀλλήλους γὰρ καταιτι- 
+vrtal. λέγονται δὲ Σάμιοι ἐνθαῦτα κατὰ τὰ 
+συγκείμενα πρὸς τὸν Αἰάκεα ἀειράμενοι τὰ ἱστία 
+ἀποπλῶσαι ἐκ τῆς τάξιος ἐς τὴν Σάμον, πλὴν 
+ἕνδεκα νεῶν' τουτέων δὲ οἱ τριήραρχοι παρέμενον 
+καὶ ἐναυμάχεον ἀνηκουστήσαντες τοῖσι στρατη- 
+γοῖσι' καί σφι τὸ κοινὸν τῶν Σαμίων ἔδωκε διὰ 
+τοῦτο τὸ πρῆγμα ἐν στήλῃ ἀναγραφῆναι πατρό- 
+θεν ὡς ἀνδράσι ἀγαθοῖσι γενομένοισι, καὶ ἔστι 
+16ο 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 13-14 
+
+
+that message which Aeaces son of Syloson had 
+already sent them at the Persians’ bidding, entreat- 
+ing them to desert the Ionian alliance ; now there- 
+fore, when they saw much disorder on the Ionian 
+side, they consented to the message; moreover, it 
+seemed to them to be a thing impossible to overcome 
+the king’s power, and they were well assured that 
+if they overcame Darius’ present fleet they would 
+have another fivefold greater on their hands. 
+Therefore as soon as they saw that the Ionians 
+would not be serviceable, they laid hold on that for 
+a pretext, thinking themselves in luck's way so to 
+save their temples and their own houses. This 
+Aeaces, to whose message the Samians consented, 
+was son of Syloson the son of Aeaces, and had been 
+despot of Samos, till he was deposed from his 
+government by Aristagoras of Miletus, even as the 
+
+other Ionian despots. © 
+14. Now therefore, when the Phoenician fleet 
+came sailing against them, the Ionians for their part 
+put out to sea with their ships in column. When 
+they drew near together and met in battle, which of 
+the Ionians did thereafter quit themselves ill or well 
+in that sea-fight my history cannot with exactness 
+record; for they all blame each other. But this is 
+said, that the Samians, according to their compact 
+with Aeaces, did then make all sail for Samos, 
+leaving their post, all save eleven ships, the eaptains 
+whereof stood their ground and fought, disobeying 
+their admirals; and by reason of this deed the 
+Samian people granted them for their valour that 
+their names and their fathers’ should be engraved 
+on a pillar, which pillar now stands in their 
+161 
+
+
+VOL. III, M 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+αὕτη ἡ στήλη ἐν τῇ ἀγορῇ. ἰδόμενοι δὲ καὶ Λέσ- 
+βιοι τοὺς προσεχέας φεύγοντας τὠυτὸ ἐποίευν 
+τοῖσι Σαμίοισι: ὣς δὲ καὶ οἱ πλεῦνες τῶν lover 
+ἐποίευν τὰ αὐτὰ ταῦτα. 
+
+15. Τῶν δὲ παραμεινάντων ἐν τῇ ναυμαχίῃ 
+περιέφθησαν τρηχύτατα Χῖοι ὡς ἀποδεικνύμενοί 
+τε ἔργα λαμπρὰ, καὶ οὐκ ἐθελοκακέοντες. παρεί- 
+χοντο μὲν γάρ, ὥσπερ καὶ πρότερον εἰρέθη, νέας 
+ἑκατόν, καὶ ἐπ᾽ ἑκάστης αὐτέων ἄνδρας τεσσε- 
+ράκοντα τῶν ἀστῶν λογάδας ἐπιβατεύοντας. 
+ὁρέοντες δὲ τοὺς πολλοὺς τῶν συμμάχων προδι- 
+δόντας οὐκ ἐδικαίευν γίνεσθαι τοῖσι κακοῖσι αὐτῶν 
+ὅμοιοι, ἀλλὰ μετ᾽ ὀλίγων συμμά ων μεμουνωμένοι 
+διεκπλέοντες ἐναυμάχεον, ἐς τῶν πολεμίων 
+ἑλόντες νέας συχνὰς ἀπέβαλον τῶν σφετερέων 
+τὰς πλεῦνας. 
+
+16. Χῖοι μὲν n τῇσι λοιπῇσι τῶν νεῶν ἀπο- 
+φεύγουσι ἐς τὴν ἑωυτῶν: ὅσοισι δὲ τῶν Χίων 
+ἀδύνατοι ἦσαν αἱ νέες ὑπὸ τρωμάτων, οὗτοι δὲ 
+ὡς ἐδιώκοντο καταφυγγάνουσι πρὸς τὴν Μυκάλην. 
+νέας μὲν δὴ αὐτοῦ ταύτῃ ἐποκείλαντες κατέλιπον, 
+ot δὲ πεζῃ ἐκομίξοντο διὰ τῆς ἠπείρου. ἐπειδὴ 
+δὲ ἐσέβαλον ἐς τὴν ᾿Εφεσίην κομιξόμενοι οἱ Χῖοι, 
+νυκτός τε γὰρ ἀπίκατο ἐς αὐτὴν καὶ ἐόντων 
+τῇσι γυναιξὶ αὐτόθι θεσμοφορίων, ἐνθαῦτα δὴ οἱ 
+Ἐφέσιοι, οὔτε προακηκοότες ὡς εἶχε περὶ τῶν 
+Χίων ἰδόντες τε στρατὸν ἐς τὴν χώρην ἐσβε- 
+βληκότα, πάγχυ σφέας καταδόξαντες εἶναι 
+κλῶπας καὶ ἰέναι ἐπὶ τὰς γυναῖκας, ἐξεβοήθεον 
+πανδημεὶ καὶ ἔ ἔκτεινον τοὺς Χίους. 
+
+17. Οὗτοι μὲν τοίνυν τοιαύτῃσι περιέπεπτον 
+τύχῃσι. Διονύσιος δὲ ὁ Φωκαεὺς ἐπείτε ἔμαθε 
+162 
+
+
+o Y -----α 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 14-17 
+
+
+market-place. But the Lesbians, seeing their neigh- 
+bours fly, did even as the Samians; and so, too, the 
+greater part of the Ionians did likewise. 
+
+15. Of those that stood their ground in the sea- 
+fight, most roughly handled were the Chians, for 
+they would not be cravens but achieved deeds of 
+renown. They brought an hundred ships, as I have 
+before told, to the fleet, and on each ship were forty 
+picked men of their citizens ; and seeing themselves 
+betrayed by the greater part of their allies they 
+thought shame to bear themselves like the baser 
+sort of the rest, but albeit with none but a few 
+allies to aid them they fought on and broke the 
+enemy's line, till they had taken many of his ships 
+but lost the greater part of their own. 
+
+16. So with the remnant of their ships the Chians 
+fled to their own country; but the crews of the 
+Chian ships that were crippled by hurts fled before 
+the pursuit to Mycale. There the men beached and 
+left their ships, and made their way thence across 
+the mainland. But when the Chians entered the 
+lands of Ephesus on their march, it chanced that 
+they came by night and the women were keeping 
+their Thesmophoria; and the Ephesians thereupon, 
+never having heard the story of the Chians and 
+seeing an army invading their country, were fully 
+persuaded that these were robbers come after their 
+women ; so they mustered all their force and slew 
+the Chians. 
+
+17. They, then, met with such fate as I have said. 
+As for Dionysius the Phocaean, when he saw that 
+
+163 
+M 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τῶν Ιώνων τὰ πρήγματα διεφθαρμένα, νέας ἑλὼν 
+τρεῖς τῶν πολεμίων ἀπέπλεε ἐς μὲν Φώκαιαν 
+οὐκέτι, εὖ εἰδὼς ὡς ἀνδραποδιεῖται σὺν τῇ ἄλλῃ 
+Ἰωνίῃ' ὃ δὲ ἐθέως ὡς εἶχε ἔπλεε ἐς Φοινίκην, 
+γαύλους δὲ ἐνθαῦτα καταδύσας καὶ χρήματα 
+λαθὼν πολλὰ ἔπλεε ἐς Σικελίην, ὁρμώμενος δὲ 
+ἐνθεῦτεν ληιστῆς κατεστήκεε Ἑλλήνων μὲν οὐδε- 
+νός, Καρχηδονίων δὲ καὶ T Γυρσηνῶν. 
+
+18. Οἱ δὲ Πέρσαι ἐπείτε τῇ ναυμαχίῃ ἐνίκων 
+τοὺς Ἴωνας, τὴν Μίλητον πολιορκέοντες ἐκ γῆς 
+καὶ θαλάσσης καὶ ὑπορύσσοντες τὰ τείχεα καὶ 
+παντοίας μηχανὰς προσφέροντες, αἱρέουσι κατ 
+ἄκρης ἕ ἕκτῳ ἔτεϊ ἀπὸ τῆς ἀποστάσιος τῆς ᾿Αριστα- 
+γόρεω καὶ ἠνδραποδίσαντο τὴν πόλιν, ὥστε συµ- 
+πεσεῖν τὸ πάθος τῷ χρηστηρίῳ τῷ ἐς Μίλητον 
+γενομένῳ. 
+
+19. Χρεωμένοισι γὰρ ᾿Αργείοισι ἐν Δελφοῖσι 
+περὶ σωτηρίης τῆς πόλιος τῆς σφετέρης ἐχρήσθη 
+ἐπίκοινον χρηστήριον, τὸ μὲν ἐς αὐτοὺς τοὺς 
+᾿Αργείους φέρον, τὴν δὲ παρενθήκην ἔχρησε ἐς 
+Μιλησίους. τὸ μέν νυν ἐς τοὺς ᾿Αργείους ἔχον, 
+ἐπεὰν κατὰ τοῦτο γένωμαι τοῦ λόγου, τότε μνη- 
+σθήσομαι" τὰ δὲ τοῖσι Μιλησίοισι οὐ παρεοῦσι 
+ἔχρησε, ἔχει ὧδε. 
+
+
+καὶ τότε δή, Μίλητε κακῶν ἐπιμήχανε ἔργων, 
+πολλοῖσιν δεῖπνόν τε καὶ ἀγλαὰ δῶρα γενήσῃ, 
+σαὶ δ᾽ ἄλοχοι πολλοῖσι πόδας νίψουσι κομήταις, 
+νηοῦ 6 ἡμετέρου Διδύμοις ἄλλοισι μελήσει. 
+
+
+1 In 494. 
+? Didyma (oftener called Branchidae), was near Miletus ; 
+the temple was of Apollo Aibvuévs. ΟΡ. I. 46. 
+
+
+164 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 17-19 
+
+
+the Ionian cause was lost, he sailed away with three 
+enemy ships that he had taken; but not to Phocaea, 
+now that he knew well that it would be enslaved 
+with the rest of Ionia; he sailed then and there 
+with a straight course to Phoenice instead, and 
+having sunk there certain galleons and taken much 
+substance he made sail to Sicily, making which his 
+station he set up for a pirate, robbing Carchedonians 
+and Tyrrhenians, but no Greeks. 
+
+18. When the Persians had vanquished the 
+Ionians by sea, they laid siege to Miletus by sea 
+and land, mining the walls and using every device 
+against it, till in the sixth year after the revolt of 
+Aristagoras they took the city high and low and 
+enslaved it.! Thus did this calamity accord with the 
+oracle concerning Miletus. 
+
+19. For when the Argives enquired at Delphi of 
+the safety of their city, there was given them an 
+oracle of twofold import, part of it regarding the 
+Argives themselves, but there was an oracle added 
+thereto for the Milesians, Of that which concerned 
+the Argives I will then make mention when I come 
+to that part of my history; but this was the 
+prophecy given to the Milesians, they not being 
+then present: 
+
+
+In that day, Miletus, thou planner of works that 
+are evil, 
+
+Thou for a banquet shalt serve and a guerdon rich 
+of the spoiler ; 
+
+Many the long-locked gallants whose feet shall be 
+washed by thy women ; 
+
+Woe for my Didyman ? shrine! no more shall its 
+ministers tend it. 
+
+
+165 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τότε δὴ ταῦτα τοὺς Μιλησίους κατελάμβανε, ὁκότε 
+ἄνδρες μὲν οἱ πλεῦνες ἐκτείνοντο ὑπὸ τῶν Περσέων 
+ἐόντων κομητέων, γυναῖκες δὲ καὶ τέκνα ἐν ἀνδρα- 
+πόδων λόγῳ ἐγίνοντο, ἱρὸν δὲ τὸ ἐν Διδύμοισι καὶ 
+0 νηός τε καὶ τὸ χρηστήριον συληθέντα ἐνεπίμ- 
+πρατο. τῶν ὃ ἐν τῷ ἱρῷ τούτῳ χρημάτων πολ- 
+λάκις μνήμην ἑτέρωθι τοῦ λόγου ἐποιησάμην. 
+
+20. ᾿Ενθεῦτεν οἱ ζωγρηθέντες τῶν Μιλησίων 
+ἤγοντο ἐς Σοῦσα. βασιλεὺς δὲ σφέας Δαρεῖος 
+κακὸν οὐδὲν ἄλλο ποιήσας κατοίκισε ἐπὶ τῇ Ἔρυ- 
+θρῇ καλεομένῃ, θαλάσσῃ ἐν “Autry πόλι, παρ᾽ ἣν 
+Τίγρης ποταμὸς παραρρέων ἐς θάλασσαν ἐξιεῖ. 
+τῆς δὲ Μιλησίων χώρης αὐτοὶ μὲν οἱ | Πέρσαι εἶχον 
+τὰ περὶ τὴν πόλιν καὶ τὸ πεδίον, τὰ δὲ ὑπερά- 
+κρια ἔδοσαν Καρσὶ Πηδασεῦσι ἐκτῆσθαι. 
+
+21. Παθοῦσι δὲ ταῦτα Μιλησίοισι πρὸς Ilep- 
+σέων οὐκ ἀπέδοσαν τὴν ὁμοίην Συβαρῖται, ot λᾶόν 
+τε καὶ Σκίδρον οἴκεον τῆς πόλιος ἀπεστερημένοι. 
+Συβάριος γὰρ ἁλούσης ὑπὸ Κροτωνιητέων Μιλή- 
+σιοι πάντες ἡβηδὸν ἀπεκείραντο τὰς κεφαλὰς καὶ 
+πένθος µέγα προσεθήκαντο' πόλιες γὰρ αὗται 
+μάλιστα δὴ τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν ἀλλήλησι ἐξεινώθη- 
+cav' οὐδὲν ὁμοίως καὶ ᾿Αθηναῖοι. ᾿Αθηναῖοι μὲν 
+γὰρ δῆλον ἐ ἐποίησαν ὑπεραχθεσθέντες τῇ Μιλήτου 
+ἁλώσι τῇ τε ἄλλη πολλαχῇ, καὶ δὴ καὶ ποιήσαντι 
+Φρυνίχῳ δρᾶμα Μιλήτου ἅλωσιν καὶ διδάξαντι 
+ἐς δάκρυά τε ἔπεσε τὸ θέητρον, καὶ ἐζημίωσάν μιν 
+ὡς ἀναμνήσαντα οἰκήια κακὰ χιλίῃσι -δραχμῇσι, 
+καὶ ἐπέταξαν μηδένα χρᾶσθαι τούτῳ τῷ δράματι. 
+
+22, Μίλητος μέν νυν MO ἠρήμωτο, Za- 
+
+
+166 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 19-22 
+
+
+All this now came upon the Milesians ; for the most 
+part of their men were slain by the long-haired 
+Persians, and their women and children were 
+accounted as slaves, and the temple at Didyma with 
+its shrine and place of divination was plundered and 
+burnt. Of the wealth that was in this temple I 
+have often spoken elsewhere in my history. 
+
+20. After that, the captive Milesians were brought 
+to Susa. King Darius did them no further hurt, but 
+settled them by the sea called Red, in the city 
+called Ampe, whereby flows the river Tigris as it 
+issues into the sea. Of the Milesian land the 
+Persians themselves held what was nearest to the 
+city, and the plain, giving the hill country into 
+the possession of Carians from Pedasa. 
+
+21. Now when the Milesians suffered all this at 
+the hands of the Persians, the men of Sybaris (who 
+had lost their city and dwelt in Laüs and Scidrus) 
+gave them no just requital for what they had done; 
+for when Sybaris was taken by the men of Croton, 
+all the people of Miletus, young and old, shaved 
+their heads and made great public lamentation; no 
+cities within my knowledge were ever so closely 
+joined in friendship as these. The Sybarites did 
+nothing after the Athenian manner. For the 
+Athenians, besides that they signified in many other 
+ways their deep grief for the taking of Miletus, did 
+this in especial :—Phrynichus having written a play 
+entitled “The Fall of Miletus " and set it on the 
+stage, the whole theatre brake into weeping; and 
+they fined Phrynichus a thousand drachmae for 
+bringing to mind a calamity that touched them so 
+nearly, and forbade for ever the acting of that play. 
+
+22. Miletus then was left empty of its people. 
+
+
+167 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+/ δὰ ^ 7 » A \ » M M 16 , 
+µίων δὲ τοῖσί τι ἔχουσι τὸ μὲν ἐς τοὺς Μήδους ἐκ 
+τῶν στρατηγῶν τῶν σ ετέρων ποιηθὲν οὐδαμῶς 
+ἤρεσκε, ἐδόκεε δὲ μετὰ τὴν ναυμαχίην αὐτίκα 
+βουλευομένοισι, πρὶν ἤ σφι ἐς τὴν χώρην ἀπικέ- 
+σθαι τὸν τύραννον Aidxea, ἐς ἀποικίην ἐκπλέειν 
+
+δὲ / 18 , \ Αἱ / .. ὃ , 
+μηδὲ μένοντας Μηδοισί τε καὶ Αἰάκεϊ δουλεύειν. 
+
+^ e \ / 
+Ζαγκλαῖοι γὰρ οἱ ἀπὸ Σικελίης τὸν αὐτὸν χρόνον 
+τοῦτον πέμποντες ἐς τὴν Iwvinv ἀγγέλους ἐπεκα- 
+λέοντο τοὺς "Ίωνας ἐς Καλὴν ἀκτήν, βουλόμενοι 
+
+3 / , / > ή ε A M [14 
+αὐτόθι πόλιν κτίσαι ᾿Ιώνων. ἡ δὲ Καλὴ αὕτη 
+, . , L4 A A A . 
+ἀκτὴ καλεομένη ἔστι μὲν Σικελῶν, πρὸς δὲ Γυρση- 
+νίην τετραμμένη τῆς Σικελίης. τούτων ὧν ἐπικα- 
+λεομένων οἱ Σάμιοι μοῦνοι ᾿Ιώνων ἐστάλησαν, σὺν 
+
+/ / € » , 9 e / 
+δέ σφι Μιλησίων οἱ ἐκπεφευγότες' ἐν ᾧ τοιόνδε 
+δή τι συνήνεικε γενέσθαι. | 
+
+23. Σάμιοι γὰρ κομιζόμενοι ἐς Σικελίην ἐγίνοντο 
+9 ^ ^ » ’ \ ^ 
+ἐν Λοκροῖσι τοῖσι ᾿Επιζεφυρίοισι, καὶ Ζαγκλαῖοι 
+
+ε - "^ 
+
+αὐτοί τε καὶ ὁ βασιλεὺς αὐτῶν, τῷ οὔνομα ἣν 
+Σκύθης, περικατέατο πόλιν τῶν Σικελῶν ἐξελεῖν 
+Βουλόμενοι. μαθὼν δὲ ταῦτα ὁ ᾿Ρηγίου τύραννος 
+3 ’ ’ $^ ΄ - ld 
+
+Αναξίλεως, τότε ἐὼν διάφορος τοῖσι Ζαγκλαίοισι, 
+συμμίξας τοῖσι Σαμίοισι ἀναπείθει ὡς χρεὸν εἴη 
+
+? ^ 
+Καλὴν μὲν ἀκτήν, ἐπ ἣν ἔπλεον, ἐᾶν χαίρειν, τὴν 
+
+\ ΄ - > ^ z 3 A 
+δὲ Ζάγκλην σχεῖν ἐοῦσαν ἔρημον ἀνδρῶν. πειθο- 
+μένων δὲ τῶν Σαμίων καὶ σχόντων τὴν Ζάγκλην, 
+ἐνθαῦτα οἱ Ζαγκλαῖοι, ὡς ἐπύθοντο ἐχομένην τὴν 
+πόλιν ἑωυτῶν, ἐβοήθεον αὐτῇ καὶ ἐπεκαλέοντο 
+ε / . / , . \ / 
+Ιπποκράτεα τὸν [Γέλης τύραννον' ἦν γὰρ δή σφι 
+οὗτος σύμμαχος. ἐπείτε δὲ αὐτοῖσι καὶ ὁ Imro- 
+κράτης σὺν τῇ στρατιῇ ἧκε βοηθέων, Σκύθην μὲν 
+
+
+1 Zancle is the later Messene, modern Messina, 
+
+
+168 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 22-23 
+
+
+But as regards the Samians, their men of substance 
+were ill-pleased by the dealings of their generals 
+with the Medes; after the sea-fipht they took 
+counsel straightway and resolved that before Aeaces 
+the despot came to their country they would sail 
+away to a colony, rather than remain and be slaves 
+to the Medes and Aeaces. For the people of Zancle! 
+in Sicily about this time sent messengers to Ionia 
+inviting the Ionians to the Fair Coast, desiring there 
+to found an Ionian city. This Fair Coast, as it is 
+called, is in Sicily, in that part which looks towards 
+Tyrrhenia. At this invitation, then, the Samians 
+alone of the Ionians, with those Milesians who had 
+escaped, set forth ; and in their journey a thing befel 
+them such as I will show. 
+
+23. As they voyaged to Sicily the Samians came 
+to the country of the Epizephyrian? Locrians at a 
+time when the people of Zancle and their king 
+(whose name was Scythes) were besieging a Sicilian 
+town, desiring to take it. Learning this, Anaxilaus 
+the despot of Rhegium, being then at feud with 
+the Zanclaeans, consorted with the Samians and 
+persuaded them from their purpose ; they had best, 
+he said, leave off their voyage to the Fair Coast, and 
+seize Zancle while it was deserted by its men. To 
+this the Samians consented and seized Zancle ; where- 
+at the Zanclaeans, when they learnt of the taking of 
+their city, came to deliver it, calling to their aid 
+Hippocrates the despot of Gela, who was their ally. 
+But Hippocrates, when he came bringing his army 
+to aid them, put Scythes the monarch of Zancle and 
+
+
+2 “The epithet distinguishes the Italiot colony from the 
+Locrians of the mother country " (How and Wells). 
+
+
+169 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τὸν μούναρχον τῶν Ζαγκλαίων ὡς ἀποβαλόντα 
+τὴν πόλιν ὁ Ἱπποκράτης πεδήσας καὶ τὸν ἆδελ.- 
+φεὸν αὐτοῦ Ἠυθογένεα ἐς Ἴνυκα πόλιν ἀπέπεμψε, 
+τοὺς δὲ λοιποὺς Ζαγκλαίους κοινολογησάµενος 
+τοῖσι Σαμίοισι καὶ ὅρκους δοὺς καὶ δεξάμενος 
+προέδωκε. Mea Bos δέ οἱ ἦν εἰρημένος ὅδε ὑπὸ τῶν 
+Σαμίων, πάντων τῶν ἐπίπλων καὶ ἀνδραπόδων τὰ 
+ἡμίσεα μεταλαβεῖν τῶν ἐν τῇ πόλι, τὰ δ᾽ ἐπὶ τῶν 
+ἀγρῶν πάντα “Ἱπποκράτεα λαγχώνειν. τοὺς μὲν 
+δὴ πλεῦνας τῶν Ζαγκλαίων αὐτὸς ἐν ἀνδραπόδων 
+λόγῳ εἶχε δήσας, τοὺς δὲ κορυφαίους αὐτῶν τρι- 
+ηκοσίους ἔδωκε τοῖσι Σαμίοισι -κατασφάξαι' οὐ 
+μέντοι οἷ γε Σάμιοι ἐ ἐποίησαν ταῦτα. 
+
+24. Σκύθης δὲ ὁ τῶν Ζαγκλαίων μούναρχος ἐκ 
+τῆς Ἴνυκος ἐκδιδρήσκει ἐς Ἱ μέρην, ἐκ δὲ ταύτης 
+παρῆν ἐς τὴν ᾿Ασίην καὶ ἀνέβη παρὰ βασιλέα 
+Δαρεῖον" καί μιν ἐνόμισε Δαρεῖος πάντων ἀνδρῶν 
+δικαιότατον εἶναι, ὅσοι ἐκ τῆς Ἑλλάδος Tap 
+ἑωυτὸν ἀνέβησαν. καὶ γὰρ παραιτησάμενος Ba- 
+σιλέα ἐς Σικελίην ἆ ἀπίκετο καὶ. αὖτις ἐκ τῆς Σικε- 
+Mins ὀπίσω παρὰ βασιλέα, ἐ ἐς ὃ γήραϊ μέγα ὄλβιος 
+ἐὼν ἐτελεύτησε ἐν Πέρσῃσι. Σάμιοι δὲ ama- 
+λαχθέντε Μήδων ἀπονητὶ πόλιν καλλίστην 
+Ζάγκλην περιεβεβλέατο. 
+
+25. Μετὰ δὲ τὴν ναυμαχίην τὴν ὑπὲρ Μιλήτου 
+γενομένην Φοίνικες κελευσάντων Περσέων κατ- 
+ῆγον ἐς Σάμον Αἰάκεα τὸν Συλοσῶντος ὦ ὡς πολλοῦ 
+τε ἄξιον γενόμενον σφίσι καὶ μεγάλα κατεργασά- 
+μενον" καὶ Σαμίοισι μούνοισι τῶν ἀποστάντων 
+ἀπὸ Δαρείου διὰ τὴν ἔκλειψιν τῶν νεῶν ἐν τῇ 
+ναυμαχίῃ οὔτε ἡ πόλις οὔτε τὰ ἱρὰ ἐνεπρήσθη. 
+Μιλήτου δὲ ἁλούσης αὐτίκα Καρίην ἔσχον οἱ 
+170 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 23-25 
+
+
+his brother Pythogenes in chains for Scythes’ losing 
+of the city, and sent them away to the town of Inyx; 
+and for the rest of the people of Zancle, he betrayed 
+them into the hands of the Samians, with whom he 
+had taken counsel and exchanged oaths of agree- 
+ment. The price which the Samians covenanted to 
+give him was, that Hippocrates should take for his 
+share half of the movable goods and of the slaves 
+in the city, and all that was in the country. The 
+greater number of the Zanclaeans were kept in 
+chains as slaves by Hippocrates himself; three 
+hundred, that were their chief men, he delivered to 
+the Samians to be put to death; but the Samians 
+did not so with them. 
+
+24. Scythes the monarch of Zancle escaped from 
+Inyx to Himera, and thence being arrived in Asia 
+went up the country to king Darius. He was 
+esteemed by Darius the most honest man of all who 
+had come up to him from Hellas; for he returned 
+by the king’s permission to Sicily and from Sicily 
+back again to Darius; at the last he ended his life in 
+Persia, full of years and of great possessions. Thus 
+lightly did the Samians plant themselves in that 
+most excellent city of Zancle, when they had 
+escaped from the Medes. 
+
+25. After the fight at sea for Miletus, the 
+Phoenicians at the Persians’ bidding brought Aeaces, 
+son of Syloson, back to Samos, for the high worth of 
+his service to them, and his great achievements; 
+and by reason of the desertion of their ships in the 
+sea-fight the Samians were the only rebel people 
+whose city was not burnt, northeir temples. Miletus 
+being taken, the Persians thereby at once gained 
+possession of Caria, some of the towns submitting 
+
+
+171 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Πέ έρσαι, τὰς μὲν ἐθελοντὴν τῶν πολίων ὑποκυψά- 
+σας, τὰς δὲ ἆ ἀνάγκῃ προσηγάγοντο. 
+
+20. Ταῦτα μὲν δὴ οὕτω ἐγίνετο. Ἱστιαίῳ δὲ τῷ 
+Μιλησίῳ ἐόντι περὶ Βυζάντιον καὶ συλλαμβάνοντι 
+τὰς Ἰώνων ὀλκάδας ἐκπλεούσας ἐκ τοῦ Πόντου 
+ἐξαγγέλλεται τὰ περὶ τὴν Μίλητον γενόμενα. τὰ 
+μὲν δὴ περὶ Ἑλλήσποντον ἔ ἔχοντα πρήγματα ἐπι- 
+τράπει Βισάλτῃ ᾿Απολλοφάνεος παιδὶ ᾿Αβυδηνῷ, 
+αὐτὸς δὲ ἔ ἔχων Λεσβίους ἐς Χίον ἔπλεε, καὶ Χίων 
+φρουρῇ οὐ προσιεµένῃ μιν συνέβαλε ἐν Κοίλοισι 
+καλεομένοισι τῆς Χίης χώρης. τούτων τε δὴ 
+ἐφόνευσε συχνούς, καὶ τῶν λοιπῶν Χίων, οἷα δὴ 
+κεκακωμένων ἐκ τῆς ναυμαχίης, ὁ Ἱστιαῖος ἔχων 
+τοὺς. Λεσβίους ἐπεκράτησε, ἐκ Πολίχνης τῆς Χίων 
+ὁρμώμενος. 
+
+27. Φιλέει δέ κως προσημαίνειν, εὖτ᾽ ἂν μέλλῃ 
+
+, N ^ / A y €» X M 
+μεγάλα κακὰ ἢ πόλι ἢ ἔθνεϊ ἔσεσθαι' καὶ γὰρ 
+Χίοισι πρὸ τούτων σημήια μεγάλα ἐγένετο τοῦτο 
+μέν σφι πέμψασι ἐς Δελφοὺς χορὸν νεηνιέων 
+ἑκατὸν δύο .μοῦνοι τούτων ἀπενόστησαν, τοὺς δὲ 
+ὀκτώ τε καὶ ἐνενήκοντα αὐτῶν λοιμὸς ὑπολαβὼν 
+ἀπήνεικε' τοῦτο δὲ ἐ ἐν τῇ πόλι τὸν αὐτὸν τοῦτον 
+χρόνον, ὀλίγον πρὸ τῆς ναυμαχίης, παισὶ γράμ- 
+ματα διδασκομένοισι ἐνέπεσε ἡ στέγη, ὥστε ἀπ᾽ 
+ἑκατὸν καὶ εἴκοσι παίδων εἷς μοῦνος ἀπέφυγε. 
+ταῦτα μέν σφι σημήια ὁ θεὸς προέδεξε, μετὰ δὲ 
+ταῦτα ἡ ναυμαχίη ὑπολαβοῦσα € ες γόνυ τὴν πόλιν 
+ἔβαλε, ἐπὶ δὲ τῇ ναυμαχίῃ ἐπεγένετο Ἱστιαῖος 
+Λεσβίους d ἄγων' κεκακωμένων δὲ τῶν Χίων, κατα- 
+στροφὴν εὐπετέως αὐτῶν ἐποιήσατο. 
+
+28, ᾿Ενθεῦτεν δὲ ὁ Ἱστιαῖος ἐστρατεύετο ἐπὶ 
+Θάσον ἄγων ᾿Ιώνων καὶ Αἰολέων συχνούς. mepi- 
+172 
+
+
+<- m 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 25-28 
+
+
+themselves of their own accord and others being 
+subdued perforce. 
+
+26. All this fell out as I have said. But Histiaeus 
+the Milesian was at Byzantium, seizing the Ionian 
+merchant ships as they sailed out of the Euxine, 
+when he had news of the business of Miletus. 
+Thereupon, leaving all matters concerning the 
+Hellespont in charge of Bisaltes of Abydos, son 
+of Apollophanes, he himself sailed with Lesbians to 
+Chios, and there did battle in the Hollows of Chio£ 
+(as they are called) with Chian guardships that would 
+not receive him. Many of their crews he slew; the 
+rest of the people of the country (so crippled were 
+they by the sea-fight) Histiaeus with his Lesbians 
+subdued to his will, coming out from Polichne in 
+Chios. | 
+
+27. Ever is some warning given by heaven, when 
+great ills threaten cities or nations; for before all 
+this plain signs had been sent to the Chians. Ofa 
+band of a hundred youths whom they had sent to 
+Delphi two only returned, ninety-eight being caught 
+and carried off by pestilence; moreover, at about 
+this same time, a little before the sea-fight, the roof 
+fell in on boys at school, insomuch that of a hundred 
+and twenty of them one alone escaped. These 
+signs had been shown to them by heaven; there- 
+after the sea-fight brake upon them and beat the 
+city to its knees, and with that came Histiaeus and 
+the Lesbians to end what the sea-fight began ; and 
+the Chians being in so evil a case, he easily subdued 
+them. 
+
+28. Thence Histiaeus brought a great force of 
+Ionians and Aeolians against Thasos. But while he 
+
+
+173 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+κατημένῳ δέ οἱ Θάσον ἦλθε ἀγγελίη ὡς οἱ Φοί- 
+» / 9 ^ / , A 2 
+νικες ἀναπλέουσι ἐκ τῆς Μιλήτου ἐπὶ τὴν ἄλλην 
+Ἰωνίην. πυθόμενος δὲ ταῦτα Θάσον μὲν ἀπόρ- 
+θητον λείπει, αὐτὸς δὲ ἐς τὴν Λέσβον ἠπείγετο 
+ἄγων πᾶσαν τὴν στρατιήν. ἐκ Λέσβου δὲ Mpat- 
+νούσης οἱ τῆς στρατιῆς πέρην διαβαίνει, ἐκ τοῦ 
+᾿;Αταρνέος ὡς ἀμήσων τὸν σῖτον τόν τε ἐνθεῦτεν 
+\ 2 / \ ^ ^ 3 N 
+καὶ τὸν ἐκ Καΐκου πεδίου τὸν τῶν Μυσῶν. ἐν δὲ 
+ντούτοισι τοῖσι χωρίοισι ἐτύγχανε ἐὼν "Αρπαγος 
+ἀνὴρ Πέρσης στρατηγὸς στρατιῆς οὐκ ὀλίγης' 
+ὅς οἱ ἀποβάντι συμβαλὼν αὐτόν τε “Ἱστιαῖον 
+ζωγρίη ἔλαβε καὶ τὸν στρατὸν αὐτοῦ τὸν πλέω 
+διέφθειρε. | 
+ε ^ 
+29. ᾿Εζωγρήθη δὲ ὁ Ἱστιαῖος ὧδε. ὡς ἐμάχοντο 
+οἱ Ἕλληνες τοῖσι Πέρσῃσι ἐν τῇ Μαλήνη τῆς 
+᾿Αταρνείτιδος χώρης, οἳ μὲν συνέστασαν χρόνον 
+€ ^ 
+ἐπὶ πολλόν, ἡ δὲ ἵππος ὕστερον ὁρμηθεῖσα ἐπι- 
+πίπτει τοῖσι "Ελλησι. τό τε δὴ ἔργον τῆς ἵππου 
+τοῦτο ἐγένετο, καὶ τετραμμένων τῶν Ἑλλήνων ὁ 
+ε ^ 3 ld > 3 / e b! / 
+Ιστιαῖος ἑλπίζων οὐκ ἀπολέεσθαι ὑπὸ βασιλέος 
+διὰ τὴν παρεοῦσαν ἁμαρτάδα φιλοψυχίην τοιήνδε 
+τινὰ ἀναιρέεται. ὡς φεύγων τε κατελαμβάνετο 
+ὑπὸ ἀνδρὸς Πέρσεω καὶ ὡς καταιρεόµενος ὑπ᾽ 
+» ^ y , 4 ^ 
+αὐτοῦ ἔμελλε συγκεντηθήσεσθαι, Περσίδα γλῶσ- 
+σαν μετεὶς καταμηνύει ἑωυτὸν ὡς εἴη Ἱστιαῖος ὁ 
+Μιλήσιος. 
+90. Ei uév νυν, ὡς ἐζωγρήθη, ἄχθη ἀγόμενος 
+\ / ^ A » ? A y Ν 
+παρὰ βασιλέα Δαρεῖον, ὃ δὲ οὔτ᾽ ἂν ἔπαθε κακὸν 
+οὐδὲν δοκέειν ἐμοί, ἀπῆκέ T ἂν αὐτῷ τὴν αἰτίην: 
+νῦν δέ μιν αὐτῶν τε τούτων εἵνεκα καὶ ἵνα μὴ 
+διαφυγὼν αὖτις μέγας παρὰ βασιλέι γένηται, 
+?, / ε / σ . e M 
+Αρταφρένης re 0 Σαρδίων ὕπαρχος καὶ ὁ λαβὼν 
+174 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 28-30 
+
+
+beleaguered Thasos there came to him a message 
+that the Phoenicians were putting out to sea from 
+Miletus to attack the rest of Ionia; learning which 
+he left Thasos unsacked, and made haste instead 
+with all his army to Lesbos. Thence, for his men 
+were anhungered, he crossed over with intent to 
+reap from Atarneus the corn of that place and the 
+Mysian corn of the Caicus plain. Now it chanced 
+that in that region was Harpagus, a Persian, having 
+no small force under him; who, when Histiaeus 
+landed, met him in battle and took Histiaeus him- 
+self alive and slew the greater part of his army. 
+
+29. Histiaeus was taken prisoner after this wise : 
+the Greeks fought with the Persians at Malene in 
+the country of Atarneus, and for a long time the 
+armies battled foot to foot, till the Persian horse 
+charged and fell upon the Greeks; thus it was they 
+that achieved the victory; then, the Greeks being 
+routed, Histiaeus, supposing that the king would 
+not put him to death for his late transgression, did 
+what showed him to love his life too well. Being 
+overtaken in his flight by a Persian, and so caught 
+and like to be stabbed, he cried out in the Persian 
+language and discovered himself for Histiaeus of 
+Miletus. | 
+
+30. Now had he been taken prisoner and brought 
+on his way to king Darius, no harm had been done 
+him (to my thinking) and the king had forgiven his 
+guilt; but as it was, Histiaeus being brought to 
+Sardis, there both by reason of what he had done, 
+and for fear that he might escape and again win 
+power at the court, Artaphrenes, viceroy of Sardis, 
+
+
+175 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Αρπαγος, ὡς ἀπίκετο ἀγόμενος ἐς Σάρδις, τὸ μὲν 
+αὐτοῦ σῶμα αὐτοῦ ταύτῃ ἀνεσταύρωσαν, τὴν δὲ 
+κεφαλὴν ταριχεύσαντες ἀνήνεικαν παρὰ βασιλέα 
+Δαρεῖον ἐς Σοῦσα. Δαρεῖος δὲ πυθόμενος ταῦτα 
+καὶ ἐπαιτιησάμενος τοὺς ταῦτα ποιήσαντας ὅτι 
+μιν οὐ ζώοντα ἀνήγαγον ἐς ὄψιν τὴν ἑωυτοῦ, τὴν 
+κεφαλὴν τὴν Ἱστιαίου λούσαντάς τε καὶ περιστεί- 
+λαντας εὖ ἐνετείλατο θάψαι ὡς ἀνδρὸς μεγάλως 
+ἑωυτῷ τε καὶ Πέρσῃσι εὐεργέτεω. 
+
+81. Τὰ μὲν περὶ Ἱστιαῖον οὕτω ἔσχε. ὁ δὲ 
+ναυτικὸς στρατὸς ὁ Περσέων χειμερίσας περὶ 
+Μίλητον, τῷ δευτέρῳ ἔτεϊ | ὡς ἀνέπλωσε, αἱρέει 
+εὐπετέως τὰς νήσους τὰς πρὸς τῇ ἠπείρῳ κειμένας, 
+Χίον καὶ Λέσβον καὶ Τένεδον. ὅκως δὲ λάβοι 
+τινὰ τῶν νήσων, ὡς ἑκάστην αἱρέοντες οἱ βάρ- 
+βαροι ἐσαγήνευον τοὺς ἀνθρώπους. σαγηνεύουσι 
+δὲ τόνδε τὸν τρόπον" ἀνὴρ ἀνδρὸς ἁψάμενος τῆς 
+χειρὸς ἐκ θαλάσσης τῆς Bopnins ἐπὶ τὴν νοτίην 
+διήκουσι, καὶ ἔπειτα διὰ πάσης τῆς νήσου διέρ- 
+χονται ἐκθηρεύοντες͵ τοὺς ἀνθρώπους. αἱρεον δὲ 
+καὶ τὰς ἐν τῇ ἠπείρῳ. πόλιας τὰς 'Iaóas κατὰ 
+ταὐτά, πλὴν οὐκ ἐσαγήνευον τοὺς ἀνθρώπους’ οὐ 
+γὰρ οἷά τ᾽ ἦν. 
+
+32. ᾿Ενθαῦτα Περσέων: οἱ στρατηγοὶ οἱ οὐκ ἐγεύ- 
+σαντο τὰς ἀπειλὰς τὰς ἐπηπείλησαν τοῖσι Ἴωσι 
+στρατοπεδευομένοισι ἐναντία σφίσι. ὡς γὰρ δὴ 
+ἐπεκράτησαν τῶν πολίων, παῖδάς τε τοὺς εὐειδε- 
+στάτους ἐκλεγόμενοι ἐξέταμνον καὶ ἐποίευν ἀντὶ 
+εἶναι ἐνόρχιας εὐνούχους καὶ παρθένους τὰς καλ.- 
+λιστευούσας ἀνασπάστους παρὰ Βασιλέα" ταῦτά 
+τε δὴ ἐποίευν καὶ τὰς πόλιας ἐνεπίμπρασαν 
+αὐτοῖσι τοῖσι ἱροῖσι. οὕτω τε τὸ τρίτον "Ίωνες 
+
+
+176 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 30-32 
+
+
+and Harpagus who had taken Histiaeus, impaled 
+his body on the spot, and sent his head embalmed to 
+king Darius at Susa." When Darius learnt of this he 
+blamed those who had so done, because they had 
+not brought Histiaeus before him alive; for the 
+head, he gave command that it should be washed 
+and buried with full observance, as the head of one 
+that had done great good to Darius himself and to 
+Persia. 
+
+31. Thus it fared with Histiaeus. The Persian 
+fleet wintered at Miletus, and putting out to sea in 
+the next year easily subdued the islands that lie off 
+the mainland, Chios and Lesbos and Tenedos. 
+Whenever they took an island, the foreigners would 
+“net” each severally. This is the manner of their 
+doing it:—the men link hands and make a line 
+reaching from the northern sea to the southern, and 
+then advance over the whole island hunting the 
+people down. They took likewise also the Ionian 
+cities of the mainland, albeit not by netting the 
+people ; for that was not possible. 
+
+32. There the Persian generals failed not to fulfil 
+the threats which they had uttered against the 
+lonians when they were encamped over against 
+them; for when they had gained the mastery over 
+the cities, they chose out the comeliest boys and 
+castrated them, making them eunuchs instead of 
+men, and they carried the fairest maidens away to 
+the king; this they did, and burnt the cities, yea, 
+and their temples. Thus thrice had the Ionians 
+
+
+177 
+VOL. LI. N 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+κατεδουλώθησαν, πρῶτον μὲν ὑπὸ Λυδῶν, δὶς δὲ 
+ἐπεξῆς τότε ὑπὸ Περσέων. 
+
+33. ᾿Απὸ δὲ Ἰωνίης ἀπαλλασσόμενος ὁ ναυτι- 
+KOS στρατὸς τὰ ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ ἐσπλέοντι τοῦ Ἕλλη- 
+σπόντου aipee πάντα' τὰ γὰρ ἐπὶ δεξιὰ αὐτοῖσι 
+τοῖσι Πέρσῃσι ὑποχείρια ἦν γεγονότα κατ᾿ ἤπει- 
+pov. εἰσὶ δὲ αἱ ἐν τῇ Εὐρώπῃ aide τοῦ Ἕλλη- 
+σπόντου, Χερσόνησός τε, ἐν τῇ πόλιες συχναὶ 
+ἔνεισι, καὶ Πέρινθος καὶ τὰ τείχεα τὰ ἐπὶ Θρηίκης 
+καὶ Σηλυμβρίη τε καὶ Βυζάντιον. Βυξάντιοι μέν 
+νυν καὶ οἱ πέρηθε Καλχηδόνιοι οὐδ᾽ ὑπέμειναν 
+ἐπιπλέοντας τοὺς Φοίνικας, ἀλλ᾽ οἴχοντο ἀπολι- 
+πόντες τὴν σφετέρην ἔσω ἐς τὸν Εὔξεινον πόντον, 
+καὶ ἐνθαῦτα πόλιν Μεσαμβρίην οἴκησαν. οἱ δὲ 
+Φοίνικες κατακαύσαντες ταύτας τὰς χώρας τὰς 
+καταλεχθείσας τράπονται ἐπί τε Προκόννησον 
+καὶ ᾿Αρτάκην, πυρὶ δὲ καὶ ταύτας νείµαντες ἔπλεον 
+αὖτις ἐς τὴν Χερσόνησον ἐξαιρήσοντες τὰς ἐπι- 
+λοίπους τῶν πολίων, ὅσας πρότερον προσσχόντες 
+οὐ κατέσυραν. ἐπὶ δὲ Κύξικον οὐδὲ ἔπλωσαν 
+ἀρχήν: αὐτοὶ γὰρ Κυξικηνοὶ ἔτι πρότερον τοῦ 
+Φοινίκων ἐσπλόου ἐγεγόνεσαν ὑπὸ βασιλέι, Οἱ- 
+Bápei τῷ Μεγαβάζου ὁμολογήσαντες τῷ ἐν" 
+Δασκυλείῳ ὑπάρχῳ. 
+
+94, Tis δὲ Χερσονήσου πλὴν Καρδίης πόλιος 
+τὰς ἄλλας πάσας ἐχειρώσαντο οἱ Φοίνικες. ἐτυ- 
+ράννευε δὲ αὐτέων μέχρι τότε Μιλτιάδης ὁ Κίμωνος 
+τοῦ Στησαγόρεω, κτησαμένου τὴν ἀρχὴν ταύτην 
+πρότερον Μιλτιάδεω τοῦ Κυψέλου τρόπῳ τοιῷδε. 
+εἶχον Δόλογκοι Θρήικες τὴν Χερσόνησον ταύτην. 
+οὗτοι ὧν οἱ Δόλογκοι πιεσθέντες πολέμῳ ὑπὸ 
+᾿Αψινθίων ἐς Δελφοὺς ἔπεμψαν τοὺς βασιλέας 
+178 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 32-34 
+
+
+been enslaved, first by the Lydians and then once 
+and now yet again by the Persians. 
+
+33. Then the fleet departed from Ionia and took 
+all that lay on the left hand of the entrance of the 
+Hellespont; for what was to the right had been 
+subdued by the Persians themselves from the side of 
+the land. These are the regions of Europe that 
+belong to the Hellespont, —the Chersonese, wherein 
+are many towns; Perinthus, and the forts that lie 
+towards Thrace, and Selymbria and Byzantium. 
+
+"he people of Byzantium, and they of Calchedon 
+beyond, did not even await the onfall of the 
+Phoenicians, but left their own land and fled away 
+within the Euxine, and there settled in the town 
+Mesambria. The Phoenicians, having burnt these 
+places aforesaid, turned against Proconnesus and 
+Artace, and having given these also to the flames 
+sailed back to the Chersonese to make an end of the 
+remnant of the towns, as many as they had not 
+destroyed at their former landing. But against 
+Cyzicus they did not so much as sail at all; for the 
+Cyzicenes had before this visitation of the fleet 
+already made themselves the king's subjects, by an 
+^greement which they made with the viceroy at 
+Dascyleum, Oebares son of Megabazus. 
+
+34. As for the Chersonese, the Phoenicians 
+subdued all the towns in it, save only Cardia. 
+These had been ruled till then by Miltiades son 
+of Cimon who was the son of Stesagoras. This 
+sovereignty had been formerly won by Miltiades son 
+of Cypselus in such manner as I will now show. The 
+Dolonci, who were Thracians, possessed this Cher- 
+sonese; they then, being hard pressed in war by 
+the Apsinthians, sent their princes to Delphi to ask 
+
+179 
+N 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+περὶ τοῦ πολέμου χρησομένους. ἡ δὲ Πυθίη σφι 
+ἀνεῖλε οἰκιστὴν ἐπάγεσθαι ἐπὶ τὴν χώρην τοῦτον 
+ὃς ἂν σφέας ἀπιόντας ἐκ τοῦ ἱροῦ πρῶτος ἐπὶ 
+ξείνια καλέσῃ. ἰόντες δὲ οἱ Δόλογκοι τὴν ἱρὴν 
+ὁδὸν διὰ Φωκέων τε καὶ Βοιωτῶν ἤισαν καί 
+σφεας ὡς οὐδεὶς ἐκάλεε, ἐκτράπονται ἐπ᾿ ᾿Αθηνέων. 
+
+95. Εν δὲ τῇσι ᾿Αθήνῃσι τηνικαῦτα εἶχε μὲν 
+τὸ πᾶν κράτος Πεισίστρατος, ἆ ἀτὰρ ἐδυνάστευέ γε 
+καὶ Μιλτιάδης ὁ Κυψέλου ἐὼν οἰκίης τεθριπ- 
+ποτρόφου, τὰ μὲν ἀνέκαθεν dm Αἰακοῦ τε καὶ 
+Αἰγίνης γεγονώς, τὰ δὲ νεώτερα ᾿Αθηναῖος, Φι- 
+λαίου τοῦ Αἴαντος παιδὸς γενομένου. πρώτου τῆς 
+οἰκίης ταύτης ᾿Αθηναίου. οὗτος ὁ Μιλτιάδης 
+κατήμενος ἐν τοῖσι προθύροισι τοῖσι ἑωυτοῦ, 
+ὁρέων τοὺς Δολόγκους παριόντας ἐσθῆτα € ἔχοντας 
+οὐκ ἐγχωρίην καὶ αἰχμὰς προσεβώσατο καί σφι 
+rn ἐπηγγείλατο καταγωγὴν καὶ ξείνια. 
+
+ù δὲ δεξάμενοι καὶ ξεινισθέντες ὑπ᾽ αὐτοῦ ét- 
+ἔφαινον πᾶν τὸ μαντήιον, ἐκφήναντες δὲ ἐδέοντο 
+αὐτοῦ τῷ θεῷ μιν πείθεσθαι. Μιλτιάδεα δὲ ἀκού- 
+σαντα παραυτίκα ἔπεισε ὁ λόγος οἷα ἀχθόμενόν 
+τε τῇ Πεισιστράτου ἀρχῇ καὶ βουλόμενον ἐκπο- 
+δὼν εἶναι. αὐτίκα δὲ ἐστάλη ἐς Δελφούς, ἐ ETEL- 
+ρησόμενος τὸ χρηστήριον εἰ ποιοίη τά περ αὐτοῦ 
+οἱ Δόλογκοι προσεδέοντο. 
+
+80. Κελευούσης δὲ καὶ τῆς Ivins, οὕτω δὴ 
+Μιλτιάδης ὁ Κυψέλου, Ὀλύμπια ἀναραιρηκὼς 
+πρότερον τούτων τεθρίππῳ, τότε παραλαβὼν 
+᾿Αθηναίων πάντα τὸν βουλόμενον μετέχειν τοῦ 
+στόλου ἔπλεε ἅμα τοῖσι Δολόγκοισι, καὶ ἔσχε 
+
+
+1 **'The Sacred Way seems to have led E. by Daulis, 
+180 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 34-36 
+
+
+. an oracle concerning the war; and the priestess in 
+her reply bade them bring him in to found their 
+state who should first offer them hospitality when 
+they departed from the temple. Then the Dolonci 
+followed the Sacred Way! and journeyed through 
+Phocis and Boeotia ; and when none invited them in 
+they turned aside towards Athens. 
+
+35. Now at this time the supreme ruler of Athens 
+was Pisistratus, but Miltiades also, son of Cypselus, 
+was a man of power; he was of a house that kept 
+four-horse chariots, tracing his earliest descent from 
+Aeacus and Aegina, but by later lineage Athenian ; 
+the first Athenian of that house was Philaeus son of 
+Aias. This Miltiades, as he sat in his porch, saw the 
+Dolonci pass by with raiment and spears of foreign 
+fashion, and he hailed them, and when they 
+approached offered them lodging and hospitality. 
+They consented thereto ; and when he had received 
+them as guests they laid before him all the words of 
+the oracle, and entreated him to obey the god. 
+Hearing this, Miltiades was persuaded by what they 
+said; for he was impatient of the rule of Pisistratus 
+and desired to be away from it. Forthwith he set 
+out for Delphi, to enquire of the oracle if he should 
+do as the Dolonci entreated him. 
+
+36. The priestess too bidding him consent, there- 
+upon Miltiades son of Cypselus, that Miltiades who 
+had ere now won a race of four-horse chariots at 
+Olympia, took with him all Athenians who desired 
+to share his enterprise, and sailing with the Dolonci 
+
+
+Panopeus, and Chaeronea, then S. E. by Coronea, Haliartus, 
+and Thebes, then S. over Cithaeron to Eleusis, whence it 
+was continued to Athens by the best-known ὁδὸς iepd.” (How 
+and Wells.) 
+
+
+181 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τὴν χώρην' καί μιν οἱ . ἐπαγαγόμενοι τύραννον 
+κατεστήσαντο. ὃ δὲ πρῶτον μὲν ἀπετείχισε τὸν 
+ἰσθμὸν τῆς Χερσονήσου ἐκ Κα ϱδίης πόλιος ἐς 
+Πακτύην, ἵνα μὴ ἔχοιεν σφέας οἱ Αψίνθιοι δηλέ- 
+εσθαι ἐσβάλλοντες ἐς τὴν χώρην. εἰσὶ δὲ οὗτοι 
+στάδιοι ἕξ τε καὶ τριήκοντα τοῦ ἰσθμοῦ" ἀπὸ δὲ 
+τοῦ ἰσθμοῦ τούτου ἡ Χερσόνησος ἔ ἔσω πᾶσα ἐστὶ 
+σταδίων εἴκοσι καὶ τετρακοσίων ' τὸ μῆκος. 
+
+81. ᾿Αποτειχίσας ὧν τὸν αὐχένα τῆς Χερσονή- 
+σου ὃ Μιλτιάδης καὶ τοὺς ᾿Αψινθίους τρόπῳ 
+τοιούτῳ ὠσάμενος, τῶν λοιπῶν πρώτοισι ἐπολέ- 
+puce Λαμψακηνοῖσιε" καί pav οἱ Λαμψακηνοὶ 
+λοχήσαντες αἱρέουσι ξωγρίῃ. ἦν δὲ ὁ ὁ Μιλτιάδης 
+Κροίσῳ τῷ Avo ἐν γνώμῃ γεγονώς: πυθόμενος 
+ὧν ὁ Κροῖσος ταῦτα, πέμπων προηγόρευε τοῖσι 
+Λαμψακηνοῖσι μετιέναι Μιλτιάδεα: εἰ δὲ μή 
+σφεας πίτυος τρόπον ἀπείλεε ἐκτρίψειν. πλανω- 
+μένων δὲ τῶν Λαμψακηνῶν ἐν τοῖσι λόγοισι τὸ 
+θέλει τὸ ἔπος εἶναι τό σφι, ἀπείλησε ὁ Κροῖσος, 
+πύτυος τρόπον ἐκτρίψειν, μόγις κοτὲ è μαθὼν τῶν τις 
+πρεσβυτέρων εἶπε τὸ ἐόν, ὅτι πίτυς μούνη πάντων 
+δενδρέων ἐκκοπεῖσα βλαστὸν οὐδένα μετιεῖ ἀλλὰ 
+πανώλεθρος ἐξαπόλλυται. δείσαντες ὧν οἱ Λαμ- 
+ψακηνοὶ Ἀροΐσον λύσαντες μετῆκαν Μιλτιάδεα. 
+
+98. Οὗτος μὲν δὴ διὰ Κροῖσον ἐκφεύγει, μετὰ δὲ 
+τελευτᾷ ἄπαις, τὴν ἀρχήν τε καὶ τὰ χρήματα 
+παραδοὺς Στησαγόρῃ τῷ Κίμωνος ἀδελφεοῦ παι- 
+δὶ ὁμομητρίου. καί οἱ τελευτήσαντι Χερσονησῖ- 
+ται θύουσι ὡς νόμος οἰκιστῇ, καὶ ἀγῶνα ἱππικόν 
+τε καὶ γυμνικὸν ἐπιστᾶσι, ἐν τῷ Λαμψακηνῶν 
+
+! Across the isthmus οἵ the peninsula of Gallipoli, near 
+Bulair ; à distance of about four and a half miles. 
+
+182 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 36-38 
+
+
+gained possession of their country; and they who 
+had brought him in made him their despot. First 
+he built a wall across the isthmus of the Chersonese 
+from the town Cardia to Pactye,! that so the Apsin- 
+thians might not be able to harm them by invading 
+the country. The breadth of the isthmus is six-and- 
+thirty furlongs ; and the length of the Chersonese on 
+the hither side of that isthmus is four hundred and 
+twenty furlongs. 
+
+37. Having then built a wall across the neck of 
+the Chersonese, and thus thrust the Apsinthians 
+back, Miltiades made war upon the Lampsacenes 
+first of all the rest; and they lay in ambush and 
+took him captive. But Miltiades was well known to 
+Croesus the Lydian; wherefore Croesus, learning of 
+what had been done, warned the men of Lampsacus 
+to let Miltiades go; * or," he threatened, “I will 
+raze you from the earth like a pine-tree." The men 
+of Lampsacus were all astray in their counsels as to 
+what this threat of Croesus to them (that he would 
+raze them like a pine-tree) might mean, till after 
+much seeking one of their elders at last told them 
+the truth, to wit, that the pine is the only tree that 
+sends forth no shoots after it is cut down, but 
+perishes utterly; wherefore in fear of Croesus they 
+freed Miltiades and let him go. 
+
+38. So Miltiades was saved by Croesus ; but after- 
+wards he died childless, leaving his government and 
+his possessions to Stesagoras, the son of his full 
+brother Cimon ; and since his death the men of the 
+Chersonese have ever offered him such sacrifice as is 
+a founder's right, ordaining days for horse-races and 
+feats of strength, wherein no man of Lampsacus 
+
+
+183 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οὐδενὶ ἐγγίνεται ἀγωνίζεσθαι. πολέμου δὲ ἐόντος 
+A 4 M Ss / aN 
+πρὸς Λαμψ ακηνοὺς καὶ Στησαγόρεα κατέλαβε 
+ἀποθανεῖν ἄπαιδα, πληγέντα τὴν κεφαλὴν πελέκεῖ 
+ἐν τῷ πρυτανηίῳ πρὸς ἀνδρὸς αὐτομόλου μὲν τῷ 
+λόγῳ πολεμίου δὲ καὶ ὑποθερμοτέρου τῷ ἔργῳ. 
+39. Τελευτήσαντος δὲ καὶ Στησαγόρεω τρόπῳ 
+τοιῷδε, ἐνθαῦτα Μιλτιάδεα τὸν Κίμωνος, Στησα- 
+/ ~ A , , / 
+γόρεω δὲ τοῦ τελευτήσαντος ἀδελφεόν, καταλαμ- 
+ψόμενον τὰ πρήγματα ἐπὶ Χερσονήσου ἀποστέλ.- 
+λουσι τριήρεϊ οἱ Πεισιστρατίδαι, οἵ μιν καὶ ἐν 
+?, ΄ > / = e , / ^ ^ 
+Αθήνησι ἐποίευν εὖ ὡς οὐ συνειδότες δῆθεν τοῦ 
+πατρὸς Κίμωνος αὐτοῦ τὸν θάνατον, τὸν ἐγὼ ἐν 
+ἄλλῳ λόγῳ σημανέω ὡς ἐγένετο. Μιλτιάδης δὲ 
+ἀπικόμενος ἐς τὴν Χερσόνησον εἶχε κατ᾽ οἴκους, 
+A > A / . , [4 e 
+τὸν ἀδελφεὸν Στησαγόρεα δηλαδὴ ἐπιτιμέων. οἱ 
+δὲ Χερσονησῖται πυνθανόμενοι ταῦτα συνελέχθη- 
+σαν ἀπὸ πασέων τῶν πολίων οἱ δυναστεύοντες 
+πάντοθεν, κοινῷ δὲ στόλῳ ἀπικόμενοι ὡς συλ.- 
+Ἀυπηθησόμενοι ἐδέθησαν ὑπ᾽ αὐτοῦ. Μιλτιάδης 
+τε δὴ ἴσχει τὴν Χερσόνησον, πεντακοσίους βόσκων 
+ἐπικούρους, καὶ γαμέει Ὀλόρου τοῦ Θρηίκων 
+βασιλέος τὴν θυγατέρα Ἡγησιπύλην. 
+40. Οὗτος δὲ ὁ Κίμωνος Μιλτιάδης νεωστὶ μὲν 
+9 4 » . , 4 / 
+ἐληλύθεε ἐς τὴν Χερσόνησον, κατελάμβανε δέ μιν 
+ἐλθόντα ἄλλα τῶν καταλαβόντων πρηγμάτων 
+Nelly ead irae τρίτῳ μὲν γὰρ érei πρὸ τούτων 
+κύθας ἐκφεύγει. Σκύθαι γὰρ οἱ νομάδες ἐρε- 
+θισθέντες ὑπὸ Βασιλέος Δαρείου συνεστράφησαν 
+καὶ ἤλασαν μέχρι τῆς Χερσονήσου ταύτης" τού- 
+τους ἐπιόντας οὐκ ὑπομείνας ὁ Μιλτιάδης ἔφευγε 
+184 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 38-40 
+
+
+is suffered to contend. But in the war against the 
+Lampsacenes Stesagoras too met his end and died 
+childless ; he was smitten on the head with an axe 
+in the town-hall by one that feigned to be a deserter 
+but in truth was an enemy and a man of violence. 
+.89. Such having been the end of Stesagoras, 
+Miltiades son of Cimon and brother of the dead 
+Stesagoras was sent in a trireme to the Chersonese, 
+there to take control of the country, by the sons of 
+Pisistratus; these had already used him well at 
+Athens, feigning that they had not been accessory 
+to the death of Cimon his father, the manner 
+whereof I will relate in another place. Being 
+come to the Chersonese, Miltiades kept himself 
+within his house, professing thus to honour the 
+memory of his brother Stesagoras. When this was 
+known to the people of the Chersonese, the ruling 
+men gathered together from all their cities on 
+every side, and came in a body, as with intent to 
+show fellow-feeling with his mourning; but he put 
+them in bonds. So Miltiades made himself master 
+of the Chersonese ; there he maintained a guard of 
+five hundred men, and married Hegesipyle the 
+daughter of Olorus, king of Thrace. 
+
+40. But not long after this Miltiades, son of 
+Cimon, had come to the Chersonese, he was over- 
+taken by a visitation heavier than the former. For 
+he had been driven from the country three years ere 
+this! by the Scythians, their nomad tribes, provoked 
+by Darius, having gathered themselves together and 
+ridden as far as the Chersonese aforesaid. Not abid- 
+ing their onset, Miltiades fled from the Chersonese, 
+
+
+1 In 493. τρίτῳ μὲν γάρ, κ.τ.λ. explains how it was that 
+Miltiades had been till now absent from the Chersonese. 
+
+
+185 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Χερσόνησον, ἐς ὃ of τε Σκύθαι ἀπαλλάχθησαν 
+καὶ ἐκεῖνον Δόλογκοι κατήγαγον ὀπίσω. ταῦτα 
+μὲν δὴ τρίτῳ ἔτεϊ πρότερον ἐγεγόνεε τῶν τότε μιν 
+κατεχόντων. 
+
+41, Τότε δὲ πυνθανόμενος εἶναι. τοὺς Φοίνικας 
+ἐν Τενέδῳ, πληρώσας τριήρεας πέντε χρημάτων 
+τῶν παρεόντων ἀπέπλεε ἐς τὰς ᾿Αθήνας. καὶ 
+ὥσπερ ὁρμήθη ἐκ Καρδίης πόλιος ἔπλεε διὰ τοῦ 
+Μέλανος κόλπου" παραμεἰβετό τε τὴν _Xepoovn- 
+σον καὶ οἱ Φοίνικές οἱ περιπίπτουσι τῆσι νηυσί. 
+αὐτὸς μὲν δὴ Μιλτιάδης σὺν τῇσι τέσσερσι τῶν 
+νεῶν καταφεύγει ἐς Ἴμβρον, τὴν δέ οἱ πέμπτην 
+τῶν νεῶν κατεῖλον διώκοντες οἱ Φοίνικες. τῆς δὲ 
+νεὸς ταύτης ἔτυχε τῶν Μιλτιάδεω παίδων ὁ πρε- 
+σβύτατος ἄρχων Μητίοχος, οὐκ ἐκ τῆς Ὀλόρου 
+τοῦ Θρήικος ἐὼν. θυγατρὸς ἀλλ. ἐξ ἄλλης" καὶ 
+τοῦτον ἅμα τῇ νηὶ εἶλον οἱ Φοίνικες, καί μιν πυθό- 
+μενοι ὡς εἴη Μιλτιάδεω παῖς ἀνήγαγον παρὰ 
+βασιλέα, δοκέοντες χάριτα π᾿; καταθήσε- 
+σθαι, ὅτι δὴ Μιλτιάδης γνώμην ἀπεδέξατο ἐ ἐν τοῖσι 
+Ἴωσι πείθεσθαι κελεύων τοῖσι Σκύθῃσι, ὅτε οἱ 
+Σκύθαι προσεδέοντο λύσαντας τὴν σχεδίην ἆπο- 
+πλέειν ἐς τὴν ἑωυτῶν. Δαρεῖος δέ, ὡς οἱ | Φοίνικες 
+Μητίοχον τὸν Μιλτιάδεω ἀνήγαγον, ἐποίησε κα- 
+κὸν μὲν οὐδὲν Μητίοχον, ἀγαθὰ δὲ συχνά: καὶ γὰρ 
+οἶκον καὶ κτῆσιν ἔδωκε καὶ Περσίδα γυναῖκα, ἐκ τῆς 
+οἱ τέκνα ἐγένετο τὰ ἐς Πέρσας κεκοσμέαται. Μιλ- 
+τιάδης δὲ ἐξ Ἴμβρου ἀπικνέεται ἐς τὰς ᾿Αθήνας. 
+
+42. Καὶ κατὰ τὸ ἔτος τοῦτο ἐκ τῶν Περσέων οὐδὲν 
+ἐπὶ πλέον ἐγένετο τούτων ἐς νεῖκος φέρον ` Ίωσι, 
+ἀλλὰ τάδε μὲν χρήσιμα κάρτα τοῖσι Ἴωσι é L ἐγένετο 
+τούτου τοῦ ἔτεος' ᾿Αρταφρένης ὁ Σαρδίων ὕπαρχος 
+186 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 40-42 
+
+
+till the Scythians departed and the Dolonci brought 
+him back again. All this had happened three 
+years before the matters that now engaged him. 
+
+41. But now, learning that the Phoenicians were in 
+Tenedos, he sailed away to Athens with five triremes 
+laden with the possessions that he had by him. 
+Setting sail from Cardia he crossed the Black Bay, 
+and as he sailed past the Chersonese the Phoenician 
+ships fell in with him. Miltiades himself escaped 
+with four of his ships to Imbros, but the fifth was 
+pursued and overtaken by the Phoenicians. Now, 
+it chanced that the captain of this ship was 
+Metiochus, the eldest son of Miltiades by another 
+wife, not the daughter of Olorus the Thracian ; this 
+man the Phoenicians took captive with his ship, 
+and hearing that he was Miltiades son brought him 
+up to the king; they thought that this would be 
+a very thankworthy service, seeing that Miltiades 
+had given his voice among the Ionians for obeying 
+the Scythians when they demanded of the Ionians 
+that they should break the bridge of boats and sail 
+away to their homes. But when the Phoenicians 
+brought Miltiades' son Metiochus before him, Darius 
+did him no hurt but much good, giving him a 
+house, and substance, and a Persian wife, who bore 
+him children that were reckoned as Persians. As 
+for Miltiades, he made his way from Imbros to 
+Athens. 
+
+42. In this year! no further deed of enmity was 
+done by the Persians against the Ionians; but at 
+this same time certain things happened which 
+greatly benefited them. Artaphrenes viceroy of 
+
+
+1 493. 
+187 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μεταπεμψάμενος ἀγγέλους ἐκ τῶν πολίων συνθήκας 
+σφίσι αὐτοῖσι τοὺς Ἴωνας ἠνάγκασε ποιέεσθαι, 
+ἵνα δοσίδικοι εἶεν καὶ μὴ ἀλλήλους φέροιέν τε καὶ 
+ἄγοιεν. ταῦτά τε ἠνάγκασε ποιέειν, καὶ τὰς χώρας 
+μετρήσας σφέων κατὰ παρασάγγας, τοὺς καλέουσι 
+οἱ Πέρσαι τὰ τριήκοντα στάδια, κατὰ δὴ τούτους 
+μετρήσας φόρους ἔταξε ἑκάστοισι, οἳ κατὰ ώρην 
+διατελέουσι ἔ ἔχοντες ἐκ τούτου τοῦ χρόνου αἰεὶ ἔτι 
+καὶ ἐς ἐμὲ ὡς ἐτάχθησαν ἐξ ᾿Αρταφρένεος' ἐτάχ- 
+θησαν δὲ σχεδὸν κατὰ ταὐτὰ καὶ πρότερον εἶχον. 
+καί σφι ταῦτα μὲν εἰρηναῖα ἦν. 
+48. "Apa δὲ τῷ ἔαρι, τῶν ἄλλων καταλελυμένων 
+στρατηγῶν ἐκ βασιλέος, Μαρδόνιος ὁ 0 Γοβρύεω 
+κατέβαινε ἐπὶ θάλασσα», στρατὸν πολλὸν μὲν 
+κάρτα πεξὸν. ἅμα ἀγόμενος πολλὸν δὲ ναντικόν, 
+ἡλικίην τε νέος ἐὼν καὶ νεωστὶ γεγαμηκὼς βασι- 
+λέος Δαρείου θυγατέρα ᾿Αρτοξώστρην' ἄγων δὲ τὸν 
+στρατὸν τοῦτον ὁ Μαρδόνιος ἐπείτε ἐγένετο ἐν τῇ 
+Κιλικίῃ, αὐτὸς μὲν ἐπιβὰς ἐπὶ νεὸς ἐκομίξετο ἅ ἅμα 
+τῇσι ἄλλῃσι νηυσί, στρατιὴν δὲ τὴν πεζὴν ἄλλοι 
+ἡγεμόνες. ἦγον ἐπὶ τὸν Ἑλλήσποντον. ὡς δὲ 
+παραπλέων τὴν ᾿Ασίην ἀπίκετο ὁ Μαρδόνιος ἐς 
+τὴν Ἰωνίην, ἐνθαῦτα μέγιστον θῶμα ἐ ἐρέω τοῖσι μὴ 
+ἀποδεκομένοισι Ἑλλήνων Περσέων τοῖσι ἑπτὰ 
+᾿Οτάνεα γνώμην ἀποδέξασθαι ὡς χρεὸν εἴη δημο- 
+κρατέεσθαι Πέρσας' τοὺς γὰρ τυράννους τῶν 
+Ἰώνων καταπαύσας πάντας ὁ Μαρδόνιος δηµοκρα- 
+τίας κατίστα ἐς τὰς πόλιας. ταῦτα δὲ ποιήσας 
+ἠπείγετο ἐς τὸν Ἑλλήσποντον. ὡς δὲ συνελέχθη 
+μὲν χρῆμα πολλὸν νεῶν συνελέχθη δὲ καὶ πεζὸς 
+στρατὸς πολλός, διαβάντες τῇσι νηυσὶ τὸν Ἑλλή- 
+
+
+188 
+
+
+BOOK Vl. 42-43 
+
+
+Sardis summoned to him ambassadors from the 
+cities and compelled the Ionians to make agree- 
+ments among themselves, that they might submit 
+to redress at law and not harry and plunder each 
+other. This he compelled them to do; and he 
+measured their lands by parasangs, which is the 
+Persian name for a distance of thirty furlongs, and 
+appointed that each people should according to 
+this measurement pay a tribute which has remained 
+fixed ever since that time to this day, even as it 
+was ordained by Artaphrenes; the sum appointed 
+was about the same as that which they had 
+rendered heretofore. This then tended to their 
+peace. 
+
+43. But at the beginning of spring,! the other 
+generals being now deposed by the king from their 
+offices, Mardonius son of Gobryas, a man young in 
+years and lately wedded to Darius’ daughter Arto- 
+zostre, came down to the coast at the head of a very 
+great army and fleet; with which when Mardonius 
+was come to Cilicia, he himself embarked on ship- 
+board and sailed with the rest of his ships, while the 
+land army was led by other captains to the Helles- 
+pont. When Mardonius arrived at Ionia in his voyage 
+by the coast of Asia, he did a thing which I here set 
+down for the wonder of those Greeks who will not 
+believe Otanes to have declared his opinion among 
+the Seven that democracy was best for Persia:? 
+Mardonius deposed all the Ionian despots and set up. 
+democracies in their cities. This done, he made all 
+speed for the Hellespont; and a great multitude of 
+ships and a great army being there assembled, the 
+Persians crossed the Hellespont on shipboard and 
+
+
+1 492. 2 JII. 80. 
+189 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+σποντον ἐπορεύοντο διὰ τῆς Εὐρώπης, ἐπορεύοντο 
+δὲ ἐπί τε ' Epérpiav καὶ ᾿Αθήνας. 
+
+44. Αὗται μὲν ὧν σφι πρόσχημα ἦσαν τοῦ 
+στόλου' ἀτὰρ ἐν νόῳ ἔχοντες ὅσας ἂν πλείστας 
+δύνωνται καταστρέφεσθαι τῶν Ελληνίδων πολίωγ, 
+τοῦτο μὲν δὴ τῇσι νηυσὶ (Θασίους οὐδὲ χεῖρας 
+ἀνταειραμένους κατεστρέψαντο, τοῦτο δὲ τῷ πεζῷ 
+Μακεδόνας πρὸς τοῖσι ὑπάρχουσι δούλους προσ- 
+εκτήσαντο' τὰ γὰρ ἐντὸς Μακεδόνων ἔθνεα πάντα 
+σφι ἦν ἤδη ὑποχείρια γεγονότα. ἐκ μὲν δὴ Θάσου 
+διαβαλόντες πέρην ὑπὸ τὴν ἤπειρον ἐκομίξοντο 
+μέχρι ᾿Ἀκάνθου, ἐκ δὲ ᾿Ακάνθου ὁρμώμενοι τὸν 
+"Αθων περιέβαλλον. ἐπιπεσὼν δέ σφι περιπλέουσι 
+Βορέης ἄνεμος μέγας τε καὶ ἄπορος κάρτα τρηχέως 
+περιέσπε, πλήθεϊ πολλὰς τῶν νεῶν ἐκβάλλων πρὸς 
+τὸν Αθων. λέγεται γὰρ τριηκοσίας μὲν τῶν νεῶν 
+τὰς διαφθαρείσας εἶναι, ὑπὲρ δὲ δύο μυριάδας 
+ἀνθρώπων. ὥστε γὰρ θηριωδεστάτης ἐούσης τῆς 
+θαλάσσης ταύτης τῆς περὶ τὸν "Αθων, of μὲν ὑπὸ 
+τῶν θηρίων διεφθείροντο ἁρπαξόμενοι, οἳ δὲ πρὸς 
+τὰς πέτρας ἁρασσόμενοι οἳ δὲ αὐτῶν νέειν οὐκ 
+ἐπιστέατο καὶ κατὰ τοῦτο διεφθείροντο, ob δὲ ῥύγεϊ. 
+
+45. Ὁ μὲν δὴ ναυτικὸς στρατὸς οὕτω ἔπρησσε, 
+Μαρδονίῳ δὲ καὶ τῷ πεζῷ στρατοπεδευομένῳ ἐν 
+Μακεδονίῃ νυκτὸς Ἠρύγοι Θρήικες ἐπεχείρησαν' 
+καί σφεων πολλοὺς φονεύουσι οἱ Βρύγοι, Μαρδό- 
+νιον δὲ αὐτὸν τρωματίζουσι. οὐ μέντοι οὐδὲ αὐτοὶ 
+δουλοσύνην διέφυγον πρὸς Περσέων" οὐ γὰρ δὴ 
+πρότερον ἀπανέστη ἐκ τῶν χωρέων τουτέων Μαρδό- 
+vios πρὶν ἤ σφεας ὑποχειρίους ἐποιήσατο. τούτους 
+μέντοι καταστρεψάμενος ἀπῆγε τὴν στρατιὴν 
+ὀπίσω, ἅτε τῷ πεζῷ τε προσπταίσας πρὸς τοὺς 
+190 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 43-45 
+
+
+marched through Europe, with Eretria and Athens 
+for their goal. 
+
+44. This wasthe avowed end of their expedition ; 
+but their intent being to subdue as many of the 
+Greek cities as they could, first their fleet subdued 
+the Thasians, who did not so much as lift up their 
+hands against it; and next, their land army added 
+the Macedonians to the slaves that they had already ; 
+for all the nations nearer to them than Macedonia. 
+had been made subject to the Persians ere this. 
+Crossing then over from Thasos they voyaged near 
+the land as far as Acanthus, and putting out from 
+thence they would have rounded Athos. But as 
+they sailed, there brake upon them a north wind 
+great and irresistible, and dealt very roughly with 
+them, driving many of their ships upon Athos; 
+three hundred, it is said, was the tale of the ships 
+that perished, and more than twenty thousand men. 
+For inasmuch as these coasts of Athos abounded in 
+wild beasts, some were carried off by these and so 
+perished; others were dashed against the rocks; 
+and those of them that could not swim perished by 
+reason of that, and others again by the cold. 
+
+45. Thus then it fared with the fleet; as for 
+Mardonius and his land army, while they were 
+encamped in Macedonia the Brygi of Thrace 
+attacked them by night, and slew many of them, 
+wounding Mardonius himself. Nevertheless not 
+even these themselves could escape being enslaved 
+by the Persians; for Mardonius did not depart out 
+of those lands before he had made them subject to 
+him. Yet when he had subdued them, he led his 
+host away homewards, seeing that the Brygi had 
+
+
+IQI 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Ῥρύγους , καὶ τῷ ναυτικῷ. μεγάλως περὶ "Abov. 
+οὗτος μέν νυν ὁ στόλος αἰσχρῶς ἀγωνισάμενος 
+ἀπαλλάχθη ἐς τὴν ᾿Ασίην. 
+
+46. Δευτέρῳ δὲ ἔτεϊ τούτων ὁ ) Δαρεῖος πρῶτα μὲν 
+Θασίους διαβληθέντας ἱ ὑπὸ τὼν ἀστυγειτόνων ὡς 
+ἀπόστασιν μηχανῴατο, πέμψας ἄγγελον ἐκέλευε 
+σφέας τὸ τεῖχος περιαιρέειν καὶ τὰς νέας ἐς 
+“Άβδηρα κομίξειν. οἱ γὰρ δὴ Θάσιοι, οἷα ὑπὸ 
+“Ἱστιαίου τε τοῦ Μιλησίου πολιορκηθέντες καὶ 
+προσόδων ἐ ἐουσέων μεγαλέων, ἐχρέωντο τοῖσι χρή- 
+μασι νέας τε ναυπηγεύμενοι μακρὰς καὶ τεῖχος 
+ἰσχυρότερον περιβαλλόμενοι. ἡ δὲ πρόσοδός σφι 
+ἐγίνετο ἔκ τε τῆς ἠπείρου καὶ ἀπὸ τῶν μετάλλων" 
+ἐκ μέν γε τῶν ἐκ Σκαπτησύλης τῶν χρυσέων μετ- 
+άλλων τὸ ἐπίπαν ὀγδώκοντα τάλαντα προσήιε, ἐκ 
+δὲ τῶν ἐν αὐτῇ Θάσῳ ἑλάσσω μὲν τούτων, συχνὰ 
+δὲ οὕτω ὥστε, τὸ ἐπίπαν Θασίοισι ἐοῦσι καρπῶν 
+ἀτελέσι , προσήιε ἀπό τε τῆς ἠπείρου καὶ τῶν μετ- 
+άλλων ἔτεος ἑκάστου διηκόσια τάλαντα, ὅτε δὲ τὸ 
+πλεῖστον προσῆλθε, τριηκόσια. 
+
+4T. Εἶδον δὲ καὶ αὐτὸς τὰ μέταλλα ταῦτα, καὶ 
+μακρῷ ἦν αὐτῶν θωμασιώτατα τὰ οἱ Φοίνικες 
+ἀνεῦρον οἱ μετὰ Θάσου κτίσαντες τὴν νῆσον ταύ- 
+την, ἥτις νῦν ἀπὸ τοῦ Θάσου τούτου τοῦ Φοίνικος 
+τὸ οὔνομα ἔσχε. τὰ δὲ μέταλλα τὰ Φοινικικὰ 
+ταῦτα ἐστὶ τῆς Θάσου μεταξὺ Αἰνύρων τε χώρου 
+καλεομένου καὶ Κοινύρων, ἀντίον δὲ Σαμοθρήίκης, 
+ὄρος μέγα ἀνεστραμμένον ἐν τῇ ἑητήσι. τοῦτο 
+μέν νυν ἐστὶ τοιοῦτον. οἱ δὲ Θάσιοι τῷ βασιλέι 
+κελεύσαντι καὶ τὸ τεῖχος τὸ σφέτερον κατεῖλον καὶ 
+τὰς νέας τὰς πάσας ἐκόμισαν ἐς "Άβδηρα. 
+
+48. Μετὰ δὲ τοῦτο ἀπεπειρᾶτο ὁ Δαρεῖος τῶν 
+192 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 45-48 
+
+
+dealt a heavy blow to his army and Athos a blow 
+yet heavier to his fleet. This expedition then after 
+an inglorious adventure returned back to Asia. 
+
+46. In the next year after this,! Darius first sent 
+a message bidding the Thasians, of whom it was 
+falsely reported by their neighbours that they were 
+planning rebellion, destroy their walls and bring 
+their ships to Abdera. For the Thasians, inasmuch 
+as they had been besieged by Histiaeus of Miletus 
+and had great revenues, had used their wealth to 
+build their ships of war and encompass themselves 
+with stronger walls. Their revenue came from the 
+mainland and the mines. Eighty talents for the 
+most part they drew from the gold-mines of the 
+* Digged Forest ";? and from the mines of Thasos 
+itself, albeit less than that, yet so much that the 
+Thasians, paying no tax for their crops, drew for the 
+most part a yearly revenue from the mainland and 
+the mines of two hundred talents, and three hundred 
+when the revenue was greatest. 
+
+41. I myself have seen these mines; most marvel- 
+lous by far were those of them that were found by 
+the Phoenicians who came with Thasos and planted 
+a settlement in this island, which is now called after 
+that Phoenician Thasos. These Phoenician mines 
+are between the place called Aenyra and Coenyra in 
+Thasos, over against Samothrace ; they are in a great 
+hill that has been digged up in the searching. Thus 
+much I have to say of this. The Thasians at the 
+king's command destroyed their walls and brought 
+all their ships to Abdera. 
+
+48. After this, Darius essayed to learn whether 
+
+
+1 491. 2 On the Thracian coast, opposite Thasos. 
+
+
+193 
+VOL. II. ο 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Ἑλλήνων ὅ τι ἐν νόῳ ἔχοιεν, κότερα πολεμέειν 
+ἑωυτῷ n παραδιδόναι σφέας αὐτούς. διέπεμπε ὦ ὧν 
+κήρυκας ἄλλους ἄλλῃ τάξας ἀνὰ τὴν Ἑλλάδα, 
+κελεύων αἰτέειν βασιλέι γῆν τε καὶ ὕδωρ. τούτους 
+μὲν δὴ ἐς τὴν Ἑλλάδα ἔ ἔπεμπε, ἄλλους δὲ κήρυκας 
+διέπεµπε ἐς τὰς ἑωυτοῦ δασμοφόρους πόλιας τὰς 
+παραθαλασσίους, κελεύων νέας τε μακρὰς καὶ 
+ἱππαγωγὰ πλοῖα ποιέεσθαι. 
+
+49. Οὗτοί τε δὴ παρεσκευάξοντο ταῦτα, καὶ τοῖσι 
+ἥκουσι ἐς τὴν “Ελλάδα κήρυξι πολλοὶ μὲν ἠπειρω- 
+τέων ἔδοσαν τὰ προΐσχετο αἰτέων ὁ Πέρσης, 
+πάντες δὲ νησιῶται ἐς τοὺς ἀπικοίατο αἰτήσοντος. 
+οἵ τε δὴ ἄλλοι νησιῶται διδοῦσι γῆν τε καὶ ὕδωρ 
+Δαρείῳ καὶ δὴ καὶ Αἰγινῆται. ποιήσασι δέ σφι 
+ταῦτα ἰθέως ᾿Αθηναῖοι ἐπεκέατο, δοκέοντές τε ἐπὶ 
+σφίσι ἐ ἐπέχοντας τοὺς Αἰγινήτας δεδωκέναι ὡς ἅμα 
+τῷ Πέρσῃ ἐπὶ σφέας στρατεύωνται, καὶ ἄσμενοι 
+προφάσιος ἐπελάβοντο, φοιτέοντές τε ἐς τὴν Σπάρ- 
+την κατηγόρεον τῶν Αἰγινητέων τὰ πεποιήκοιεν 
+προδόντες τὴν Ἑλλάδα. 
+
+50. Πρὸς ταύτην δὲ τὴν κατηγορίην Κλεομένης 
+ὁ ᾿Αναξανδρίδεω βασιλεὺς ἐὼν Σπαρτιητέων διέβη 
+ἐς Αἴγιναν, βουλόμενος συλλαβεῖν Αἰγινητέων 
+τοὺς αἰτιωτάτους. ὡς δὲ € ἐπειρᾶτο συλλαμθάνων, 
+ἄλλοι τε δὴ ἐγίνοντο αὐτῷ ἀντίξοοι τῶν Αἰγινη- 
+τέων, ἐν δὲ δὴ καὶ Κριὸς ὁ Πολυκρίτου μάλιστα, 
+ὃς οὐκ ἔφη αὐτὸν οὐδένα ἄξειν χαίροντα. Aiywn- 
+τέων" ἄνευ γάρ μιν παρτιητέων τοῦ κοινοῦ ποιέειν 
+ταῦτα, ὑπ᾽ ᾿Αθηναίων ἀναγνωσθέντα χρήμασι" 
+ἅμα γὰρ ἄν μιν τῷ ἑτέρῳ -Βασιλέι ἐλθόντα συλ. 
+λαμβάνειν. ἔλεγε δὲ ταῦτα ἐξ ἐπιστολῆς τῆς 
+Δημαρήτου. Κλεομένης δὲ ἀπελαυνόμενος ἐκ τῆς 
+
+
+194 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 48-50 
+
+
+the Greeks purposed to wage war against him or to 
+surrender themselves. Therefore he sent heralds 
+this way and that about Hellas as they were severally 
+appointed, bidding them demand a gift of earth and 
+water for the king. These he despatched to Hellas, 
+and others he sent severally to his own tributary 
+cities of the sea-coast, commanding that ships of war 
+and transports for horses be built. 
+
+49. So the cities set about these preparations ; and 
+the heralds that went to Hellas received that which 
+the king's proclamation demanded, from many of the 
+dwellers on the mainland and all the islanders to 
+whom they came with the demand. Among the 
+islanders that gave earth and water to Darius were 
+the Aeginetans. These by so doing straightway 
+brought the Athenians upon them, who supposed 
+the Aeginetans to have given the gift out of enmity 
+against Athens, that so they might join with the 
+Persians in attacking the Athenians; and, gladly 
+laying hold of this pretext, they betook themselves 
+to Sparta and there accused the Aeginetans of an 
+act that proved them traitors to Hellas. 
+
+50. On this impeachment, Cleomenes, son of 
+Anaxandrides, being then a king of Sparta, crossed 
+over to Aegina, that he might lay hands on the 
+guiltiest of its people. But when he essayed to lay 
+hands on them, Crius son of Polycritus, with other 
+Aeginetans at his back, withstood him, and bade 
+Cleomenes take no man of Aegina, or he would rue 
+it; “for,” said he, “ you have no authority from the 
+Spartans for what you do; had you such, the other 
+king had come with you to take us." This he said, 
+being so instructed in a letter by Demaratus. Being 
+thus compelled to depart from Aegina, Cleomenes 
+
+195 
+ο 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Αἰγίνης εἴρετο τὸν Κριὸν 6 τι οἱ εἴη τὸ οὔνομα: ὃ 
+δέ οἱ τὸ ἐὸν ἔφρασε. ὁ δὲ Κλεομένης πρὸς αὐτὸν 
+ἔφη “ "δη νῦν καταχαλκοῦ ὦ κριὲ τὰ κέρεα, ὡς 
+συνοισόµενος μεγάλῳ KAKO.” 
+
+51. Ἔν δὲ τῇ Σπάρτῃ τοῦτον τὸν χρόνον ὑπο- 
+μένων Δημάρητος ὁ ᾿Αρίστωνος διέβαλλε τὸν 
+Κλεομένεα, ἐὼν βασιλεὺς καὶ οὗτος Σπαρτιητέων, 
+οἰκίης δὲ τῆς ὑποδεεστέρης, κατ ἄλλο μὲν οὐδὲν 
+ὑποδεεστέρης' ἀπὸ γὰρ τοῦ αὐτοῦ γεγόνασι κατὰ 
+πρεσβυγενείην δέ κως τετίμηται μᾶλλον ἡ Eùpv- 
+σθένεος. 
+
+52. Λακεδαιμόνιοι γὰρ ὁμολογέοντε οὐδενὶ 
+ποιητῇ λέγουσι αὐτὸν ᾿Αριστόδημον τὸν ᾿Αριστο- 
+μάχου τοῦ Κλεοδαίου τοῦ "Ύλλου βασιλεύοντα 
+ἀγαγεῖν σφεας ἐς ταύτην τὴν χώρην τὴν νῦν ἐκτέα- 
+ται, ἀλλ᾽ οὐ τοὺς ᾿Αριστοδήμου παῖδας. μετὰ δὲ 
+χρόνον οὐ πολλὸν ᾿Αριστοδήμῳ τεκεῖν τὴν γυναῖκα, 
+τῇ οὔνομα εἶναι Αργείην θυγατέρα δὲ αὐτὴν λέγουσι 
+εἶναι Αὐτεσίωνος τοῦ Τισαμενοῦ τοῦ Θερσάνδρου 
+τοῦ Πολυνείκεος᾽ ταύτην δὴ τεκεῖν δίδυμα, ἐπιδόν- 
+τα δὲ τὸν ᾿Αριστόδημον τὰ τέκνα νούσῳ τελευτᾶν. 
+Λακεδαιμονίους δὲ τοὺς τότε ἐόντας βουλεῦσαι 
+κατὰ νόμον βασιλέα τῶν παίδων τὸν πρεσβύτερον 
+ποιήσασθαι. οὔκων δή σφεας ἔχειν ὁκότερον ἕλων- 
+ται ὥστε καὶ ὁμοίων καὶ ἴσων ἐόντων" οὐ δυναµέ- 
+νους δὲ γνῶναι, ἢ καὶ πρὸ τούτου, ἐπειρωτᾶν τὴν 
+τεκοῦσαν. τὴν δὲ οὐδὲ αὐτὴν φάναι διαγινώσκειν. 
+εἰδυῖαν μὲν καὶ τὸ κάρτα λέγειν ταῦτα, βουλομένην 
+δὲ εἴ κως ἀμφότεροι γενοίατο βασιλέες. τοὺς ὧν δὴ 
+
+
+1 Κριός -- ram. 
+3 “The most probable origin of this anomaly” (the dual 
+
+
+196 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 50-52 
+
+
+asked Crius what was his name; and when Crius told 
+him what it was, “ Now is the time to put bronze on 
+your horns, Sir Ram,” 1 said Cleomenes, * for great 
+calamity will confront you.” 
+
+. 51. All this time Demaratus son of Ariston abode 
+at Sparta and spread evil reports of Cleomenes. 
+This Demaratus was also king of Sparta, but of the 
+less worthy family of the two; not indeed in any 
+other regard less worthy (for they have a common 
+ancestor), but the house of Eurysthenes has in some 
+sort the greater honour by right of primogeniture.? 
+
+52. For by the Lacedaemonian story, wherewith 
+no poet agrees, it was Aristodemus (the son of 
+Aristomachus, who was the son of Cleodaeus, who 
+was the son of Hyllus), and not his sons, who led 
+them to that land which they now possess. After 
+no long time Aristodemus' wife, whose name was 
+Argeia, bore him offspring; she, they say, was 
+daughter of Autesion, who was the son of Tisamenus, 
+who was the son of Thersander, who was the son of 
+Polynices; she bore him twins; Aristodemus lived 
+to see the children, and presently died of a sickness. 
+The Lacedaemonians of that day planned to follow 
+their custom and make the eldest of the children 
+king. But the children being in all respects alike, 
+they knew not which to choose; and when they 
+could not judge between them, or perchance even 
+before they had essayed, they asked the mother. 
+But she said that she knew no better than the 
+Lacedaemonians which was the elder ; this she said, 
+though she knew right well, because she desired that 
+by some means both might be made kings. Being 
+
+
+kingship) ‘‘is the fusion of two distinct communities whose 
+chiefs shared the throne.” How and Wells, p. 82. 
+
+
+197 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Λακεδαιμονίους ἀπορέειν, ἀπορέοντας δὲ πέμπειν 
+ἐς Δελφοὺς ἐπει ησομένους ὅ τι χρήσωνται τῷ 
+πρήγματι. τὴν δὲ Πυθίην σφέας κελεύειν ἀμφό- 
+τερα τὰ παιδία ἡγήσασθαι βασιλέας, τιμᾶν δὲ 
+μᾶλλον τὸν γεραίτερον. τὴν μὲν δὴ Ἰυθίην 
+ταῦτά σφι ἀνελεῖν, τοῖσι δὲ Λακεδαιμονίοισι 
+ἀπορέουσι οὐδὲν ἧσσον ὅκως ἐξεύρωσι αὐτῶν τὸν 
+πρεσβύτερον, ὑποθέσθαι ἄνδρα Μεσσήνιον τῷ 
+οὔνομα εἶναι Πανίτην' ὑποθέσθαι δὲ τοῦτον τὸν 
+Πανίτην τάδε τοῖσι Λακεδαιμονίοισι, φυλάξαι τὴν 
+γειναμένην ὁκότερον τῶν παίδων πρότερον λούει 
+καὶ σιτίζει: καὶ ἣν μὲν κατὰ ταὐτὰ φαίνηται αἰεὶ 
+ποιεῦσα, τοὺς δὲ πᾶν ἕξειν ὅσον τι καὶ δίζηνται καὶ 
+θέλουσι ἐξευρεῖν, ἣν δὲ πλανᾶται καὶ ἐκείνη ἐναλλὰξ 
+ποιεῦσα, δῆλά σφι ἔσεσθαι ὡς οὐδὲ ἐκείνη πλέον 
+οὐδὲν οἶδε, ἐπ᾿ ἄλλην τε τραπέσθαι σφέας ὁδόν. 
+ἐνθαῦτα δὴ τοὺς Σπαρτιήτας κατὰ τὰς τοῦ Μεσ- 
+σηνίου ὑποθήκας φυλάξαντας τὴν μητέρα τῶν 
+᾿Αριστοδήμου παίδων λαθεῖν κατὰ ταὐτὰ τιμῶσαν 
+τὸν πρότερον καὶ σίτοισι καὶ λουτροῖσι, οὐκ 
+εἰδυῖαν τῶν εἵνεκεν ἐφυλάσσετο. λαβόντας. δὲ τὸ 
+παιδίον τὸ τιμώμενον πρὸς τῆς γειναμένης ὡς ἐὸν 
+πρότερον τρέφειν. ἐν τῷ δημοσίῳ’ καί οἱ οὔνομα 
+τεθῆναι Εὐρυσθένεα, τῷ δὲ Προκλέα. τούτους 
+ἀνδρωθέντας αὐτούς τε ἀδελφεοὺς ἐόντας λέγουσι 
+διαφόρους εἶναι τὸν. πάντα χρόνον τῆς ζόης ἀλλή- 
+λοισι, καὶ τοὺς ἀπὸ τούτων γενομένους ὡσαύτως 
+διατελέειν. 
+
+53. Ταῦτα μὲν Λακεδαιμόνιοι λέγουσι μοῦνοι 
+Ἑλλήνων" τάδε δὲ κατὰ τὰ λεγόμενα ὑπ᾽ ᾿Ελλή- 
+νων ἐγὼ γράφω, τούτους τοὺς Δωριέων βασιλέας 
+μέχρι μὲν δὴ Περσέος τοῦ Δανάης, τοῦ θεοῦ 
+108 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 52-53 
+
+
+then in a quandary (so the story goes), the Lacedae- 
+monians sent to Delphi to enquire how they should 
+deal with the matter. The priestess bade them make 
+both the children kings, but honour the first of them 
+most. On this answer of the priestess, the Lacedae- 
+monians knowing no better than before how to dis- 
+cover the eldest child, a certain Messenian, called 
+Panites, gave them counsel ; and this was his counsel, 
+that they should watch the mother and see which of 
+the children she washed and fed before the other; 
+and if in this she should ever follow one rule, they 
+would then have all that they sought and desired to 
+discover ; but if she changed about in her practice at 
+haphazard, then it would be manifest to the Lacedae- 
+monians that she know no more than they did, and 
+they must betake them to some other means. There- 
+upon the Spartans did as the Messenian counselled, 
+and watching the mother of Aristodemus' children, 
+found her ever preferring the first-born of the two 
+when she fed and washed them, she not knowing 
+wherefore she was watched. So they took the child 
+that was preferred by its mother and brought it up 
+at the public charge as the first-born; and they 
+called it Eurysthenes, and the other Procles. These 
+two brothers, it is said, when they came to man's 
+estate, were everat feud with each other as long 
+as they lived, and their descendants too continued 
+in the same state. 
+
+53. Such is the story told by the Lacedaemonians, 
+but by no other Greeks. But I in what I write 
+follow the Greek report, and hold that the Greeks are 
+right in recording these kings of the Dorians as far 
+back as to Perseus son of Danaë, — wherein they make 
+
+
+199 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+^ / 
+ἀπεόντος, καταλεγομένους ὀρθῶς ὑπ᾽ "Ελλήνων 
+καὶ ἀποδεικνυμένους ὡς εἰσὶ Ελληνες ἤδη γὰρ 
+- N 
+τηνικαῦτα ἐς "Ελληνας οὗτοι ἐτέλεον. ἔλεξα δὲ 
+- / 
+μέχρι Περσέος τοῦδε εἵνεκα, ἀλλ᾽ οὐκ ἀνέκαθεν 
+/ 
+ἔτι ἔλαβον, ὅτι οὐκ ἔπεστι ἐπωνυμίη Περσέι οὐδε- 
+/ \ ^ e € / 9 ΄ 
+μία πατρὸς θνητοῦ, ὥσπερ Ἡρακλέι Αμϕιτρυων. 
+- 4 
+ἤδη -ὧν ὀρθῷ λόγῳ χρεωμένῳ μέχρι Περσέος 
+ὀρθῶς εἴρηταί µοι ἀπὸ δὲ Δανάης τῆς ᾿Ακρισίου 
+^ / 
+καταλέγοντι τοὺς ἄνω αἰεὶ πατέρας αὐτῶν φαινοί- 
+ατο ἂν ἐόντες οἱ τῶν Δωριέων ἡγεμόνες Αἰγύπτιοι 
+ἰθαγενέες. 
+- / 
+54. Ταῦτα μέν νυν κατὰ τὰ "Ελληνες λέγουσι 
+ε / 
+γεγενεηλόγηται ὡς δὲ ὁ παρὰ Περσέων λόγος 
+λέγεται, αὐτὸς ὁ Περσεὺς ἐὼν ᾿Ασσύριος ἐγένετο 
+"E 3 > » e II / , " \ δὲ 
+λλην, ἀλλ. οὐκ οἱ Ἱ]ερσέος προγονοι τοὺς 6€ 
+, / 
+᾿Ακρισίου γε πατέρας ὁμολογέοντας κατ᾽ οἰκηιό- 
+τητα Περσέι οὐδέν, τούτους δὲ εἶναι, κατά περ 
+"EXX : Αἱ f 
+NVES λέγουσι, Αιγυπτίους. 
+- ^ e 
+55. Καὶ ταῦτα μέν vvv περὶ τούτων εἰρήσθω. à 
+, , 
+τι δὲ ἐόντες Αἰγύπτιοι καὶ ὅ τι ἀποδεξάμενοι 
+ἔλαβον τὰς Δωριέων βασιληίας, ἄλλοισι γὰρ περὶ 
+αὐτῶν εἴρηται, ἐάσομεν αὐτά' τὰ δὲ ἄλλοι οὐ KAT- 
+ελάβοντο, τούτων μνήμην ποιήσομαι. 
+/ ^ ^ ^ 
+56. Γέρεά τε δὴ τάδε τοῖσι βασιλεῦσι Σπαρτιῆ- 
+’ 
+ται δεδώκασι, ἱρωσύνας δύο, Διός τε Λακεδαίμονος 
+\ N , / . / 3 / 9 ^ 
+καὶ Διὸς οὐρανίου, καὶ πόλεμον ἐκφέρειν ἐπ᾽ ἣν ἂν 
+΄. 
+Βούλωνται χώρην, τούτου δὲ μηδένα εἶναι Σπαρ- 
+τιητέων διακωλυτήν, εἰ δὲ μὴ αὐτὸν ἐν τῷ ἄγεῖ 
+
+
+1 i.e. Zeus; Perseus being by one legend son of Zeus and 
+Danaé. 
+
+
+2 But in VII. 150 the Persian story is, that Perseus was 
+200 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 53-56 
+
+
+no mention of the god,!—and in proving the said kings 
+to be Greek; for by Perseus’ time they had come to 
+be reckoned as Greeks. As far back as Perseus, I 
+say, and I take the matter no farther than that, 
+because none is named as the mortal father of 
+Perseus, as Amphitryon is named father of Heracles. 
+It is plain, then, that I have right reason on my side 
+when I say that the Greek record is right as far back 
+as to Perseus ; farther back than that, if the king's 
+ancestors in each generation, from Danaé daughter 
+of Acrisius upward, be reckoned, then the leaders of 
+the Dorians will be shown to be true-born Egyptians. 
+
+54. Thus have I traced their lineage according to 
+the Greek story ; but the Persian tale is, that Perseus 
+himself was an Assyrian, and became a Greek, which 
+his forbears had not been ; as for Acrisius (say the 
+Persians),? his ancestors had no bond of kinship with 
+Perseus, and they indeed were, as the Greeks say, 
+Egyptians. 
+
+55. Enough of these matters. Now the reason 
+why and for what achievements these men, being 
+Egyptian, won the kingship of the Dorians, has 
+been told by others; of this therefore I will say 
+nothing, and will make mention of matters which 
+others have not touched. 
+
+56. These prerogatives, then, the Spartans have 
+given to their kings:—They shall have two priest- 
+hoods, of Zeus called Lacedaemon,’ and Zeus of 
+Heaven; they shall wage war against what land 
+soever they will, and no Spartan shall hinder them 
+son of Danaé daughter of Acrisius. Evidently the Perseus 
+legends are manifold and inconsistent. 
+
+5 Here, as often, the cult of an ‘‘Olympian” deity is 
+identified with an earlier local worship ; cp. Zeus Amphiaraus, 
+Zeus Agamemnon. 
+
+20I 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐνέχεσθαι. στρατευομένων δὲ πρώτους ἰέναι τοὺς 
+βασιλέας, ὑστάτους δὲ ἀπιέναι' ἑκατὸν δὲ ἄνδρας 
+λογάδας ἐπὶ στρατιῆς φυλάσσειν αὐτούς' προ- 
+βάτοισι δὲ χρᾶσθαι ἐν τῇσι ἐξοδίῃσι ὁκόσοισι ἂν 
+ὧν ἐθέλωσι, τῶν δὲ θυομένων πάντων τὰ δέρματά 
+τε καὶ τὰ νῶτα λαμβάνειν σφέας. 
+
+57. Ταῦτα μὲν τὰ ἐμπολέμια, τὰ δὲ ἄλλα τὰ 
+εἰρηναῖα κατὰ τάδε σφι δέδοται. ἦν θυσίη τις 
+δηµοτελὴς ποιέηται, πρώτους ἐπὶ τὸ δεῖπνον ἴζειν 
+τοὺς βασιλέας, καὶ ἀπὸ τούτων πρῶτον ἄρχεσθαι 
+διπλήσια νέμοντας ἑκατέρῳ τὰ πάντα ἢ τοῖσι 
+ἄλλοισι δαιτυµόνεσι, καὶ σπονδαρχίας εἶναι τούτων 
+καὶ τῶν τυθέντων τὰ δέρματα. νεομηνίας δὲ πάσας 
+καὶ ἑβδόμας ἱσταμένου τοῦ μηνὸς δίδοσθαι ἐκ τοῦ 
+δημοσίου ἱρήιον τέλεον ἑκατέρῳ ἐς ᾿Απόλλωνος καὶ 
+μέδιμνον ἀλφίτων καὶ οἴνου τετάρτην Λακωνικήν, 
+καὶ ἐν τοῖσι ἀγῶσι πᾶσι προεδρίας ἐξαιρέτους. 
+καὶ προξείνους ἀποδεικνύναι τούτοισι προσκεῖσθαι 
+τοὺς ἂν ἐθέλωσι τῶν ἀστῶν, καὶ Πυθίους αἱρέεσθαι 
+δύο ἑκάτερον. οἱ δὲ Πύθιοι εἰσὶ θεοπρόποι ἐς 
+Δελφούς, σιτεόµενοι μετὰ τῶν βασιλέων τὰ δημό- 
+σια. μὴ ἐλθοῦσι δὲ τοῖσι βασιλεῦσι ἐπὶ τὸ 
+δεῖπνον ἀποπέμπεσθαί σφι ἐς τὰ οἰκία ἀλφίτων τε 
+δύο χοίνικας ἑκατέρῳ καὶ οἴνου κοτύλην, παρεοῦσι 
+δὲ διπλήσια πάντα δίδοσθαι τὠυτὸ δὲ τοῦτο καὶ 
+πρὸς ἰδιωτέων κληθέντας ἐπὶ δεῖπνον τιμᾶσθαι. 
+τὰς δὲ μαντηίας τὰς γινομένας τούτους φυλάσσειν, 
+
+
+? is uncertain ; for 
+
+
+1 The content of a ‘‘ Laconian τετάρτη 
+the date, see How and Wells ad loc. 
+
+* Usually, the πρόξενος is à citizen who out of friendship 
+for a particular state undertakes the protection of its 
+
+
+nationals in his city ; e.g. Miltiades at Athens is the πρόξενος 
+202 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 56-57 
+
+
+therein, on peril of being laid under the curse. 
+When the armies go forth the kings shall be first 
+in the advance and last in the retreat. A hundred 
+chosen men shall guard them in their campaigns. 
+They shall use for sacrifice at the setting out of their 
+expeditions as many sheep and goats as they will, 
+and shall take the hides and the chines of all 
+sacrificed beasts. 
+
+57. Such are their rights in war; in peace the 
+powers given them are according as I shall now 
+show. At all public sacrifices the kings shall be first 
+to sit down to the banquet, and shall be first served, 
+each of them receiving a portion double of what is 
+given to the rest of the company ; theirs shall be 
+the first libations, and theirs the hides of the 
+sacrificed beasts. At each new moon and each 
+seventh day of the first part of the month, there 
+shall be given to each of them from the public store 
+a full-grown victim for Apollo's temple, and a bushel 
+of barley-meal and a Laconian quart! of wine, and 
+chief seats set apart for them at the games. More- 
+over, to these it shall belong to appoint what citizens 
+soever they will to be protectors of foreigners ;? and 
+they shall choose the Pythians, each of them two. 
+(The Pythians are messengers sent to enquire at 
+Delphi, who eat with the kings at the public charge.) 
+And if the kings come not to the public dinner there 
+shall be sent to their houses two choenixes of barley- 
+meal and half a pint of wine, but when they come they 
+shall receive a double share of everything ; and the 
+same honour shall be theirs when they are bidden by 
+private citizensto dinner. All oracles that are given 
+
+
+of Sparta. But here he is apparently an official appointed 
+to watch over the interests of all foreign residents. 
+
+
+203 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+συνειδέναι δὲ καὶ τοὺς Πυθίους. δικάξειν δὲ μού- 
+νους τοὺς βασιλέας τοσάδε μοῦνα, πατρούχου τε 
+παρθένου πέρι, ἐς τὸν ἱκνέεται ἔχειν, ἣν μή περ ὁ 
+πατὴρ αὐτὴν ἐγγυήσῃ, καὶ ὁδῶν δημοσιέων πέρι' 
+καὶ ἤν τις θετὸν παῖδα ποιέεσθαι ἐθέλη, βασιλέων 
+ἐναντίον ποιέεσθαι. καὶ παρίξειν. βουλεύουσι τοῖσι 
+γέρουσι ἐοῦσι δυῶν δέουσι τριήκοντα᾽ ἦν δὲ μὴ 
+ἔλθωσι, τοὺς μάλιστά σφι τῶν ο δες προσήκον- 
+τας ἔχειν τὰ τῶν βασιλέων γέρεα, δύο ψήφους 
+τιθεµένους, τρίτην δὲ τὴν ἑωυτῶν. 
+
+58. Tatra μὲν ζῶσι τοῖσι βασιλεῦσι δέδοται 
+ἐκ τοῦ κοινοῦ τῶν Σπαρτιητέων, ἀποθανοῦσι δὲ 
+τάδε. ὑππέες περιαγγέλλουσι τὸ γεγονὸς κατὰ 
+πᾶσαν τὴν Λακωνικήν, κατὰ δὲ τὴν πόλιν γυναῖκες 
+περιιοῦσαι λέβητα κροτέουσι. ἐπεὰν ὧν τοῦτο 
+γίνηται τοιοῦτο, ἀνάγκη ἐξ οἰκίης ἑκάστης ἐλευ- 
+θέρους δύο καταμιαίνεσθαι, ἄνδρα τε καὶ γυναῖκα" 
+μὴ ποιήσασι δὲ τοῦτο ζημίαι μεγάλαι ἐπικέαται. 
+νόμος δὲ τοῖσι Λακεδαιμονίοισι κατὰ τῶν βασιλέων 
+τοὺς θανάτους ἐστὶ ὠντὸς καὶ τοῖσι βαρβάροισι 
+τοῖσι ἐν τῇ Acin τῶν γὰρ ὧν βαρβάρων οἱ 
+πλεῦνες τῷ αὐτῷ νόμῳ χρέωνται κατὰ τοὺς θανά- 
+τους τῶν βασιλέων. ἐπεὰν γὰρ ἀποθάνῃ βασιλεὺς 
+Λακεδαιμονίων, ἐκ πάσης δεῖ Λακεδαίμονος, χωρὶς 
+Σπαρτιητέων, ἀριθμῷ τῶν περιοίκων ἀναγκαστοὺς 
+ἐς τὸ κῆδος ἰέναι. τούτων ὧν καὶ τῶν εἱλωτέων καὶ 
+αὐτῶν Σπαρτιητέων ἐπεὰν συλλεχθέωσι ἐ ἐς τὠυτὸ 
+πολλαὶ χιλιάδες σύμμιγα τῆσι γυναιξί, κὀπτονταί 
+
+
+1 ** Herodotus, though the expression is obscure, probably 
+means not that each king had two votes, but that two votes 
+
+
+204 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 57—58 
+
+
+shall be in the king's keeping, the Pythians also 
+being cognisant thereof. The kings alone shall 
+judge concerning the rightful possessor of an un- 
+wedded heiress, if her father have not betrothed 
+her, and concerning the public ways, but in no 
+other cases. And if a man desire to adopt a son 
+he shall do it in the presence of the kings. And 
+they shall sit with the twenty-eight elders in council ; 
+but if they come not thereto, then those elders that 
+are nearest of kin to them shall have the king's 
+prerogative, giving two votes over and above the 
+third which is their own.! | 
+
+98. These rights have the kings received from the 
+Spartan commonwealth for their lifetime ; when they 
+die, their rights are as I shall nowshow. Horsemen 
+proclaim their death in all parts of Laconia, and in 
+the city women go about beating on a caldron, So 
+when this is done, two free persons from each house, 
+a man and a woman, must needs put on the signs of 
+defilement, or incur heavy penalties if they fail so to 
+do. The Lacedaemonians have the same custom at 
+the deaths of their kings as have the foreign people 
+of Asia; for the most of the foreigners use the same 
+custom at their kings' deaths. For when a king of 
+the Lacedaemonians is dead, from all Lacedaemon, 
+besides the Spartans, such and such a number of 
+their subject neighbours must perforce come to the 
+funeral. These then and the helots and the Spartans 
+themselves being assembled in one place to the 
+number of many thousands, together with the 
+women, they zealously smite their foreheads and 
+
+
+were given for the two absent kings, and that the vote of 
+the relative who acted as proxy for both was the third." 
+How and Wells, p. 87. 
+
+
+205 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τε τὰ μέτωπα προθύμως καὶ οἰμωγῇ διαχρέωνται 
+ἀπλέτῳ, φάμενοι τὸν ὕστατον αἰεὶ ἀπογενόμενον 
+τῶν βασιλέων, τοῦτον δὴ γενέσθαι ἄριστον. ὃς 
+δ᾽ ἂν ἐν πολέμῳ τῶν βασιλέων ἀποθάνῃ, τούτῳ δὲ 
+εἴδωλον σκευάσαντες ἐν κλίνῃ εὖ ἐστρωμένῃ 
+3 , , b \ LA , M / € / 
+
+ἐκφέρουσι. ἐπεὰν δὲ θάψωσι, ἀγορὴ δέκα ἡμερέων 
+
+9 e 4 ο , , / 9 hy 
+οὐκ ἵσταταί σφι οὐδ᾽ ἀρχαιρεσίη συνίζει, ἀλλὰ 
+πενθέουσι ταύτας τὰς ἡμέρας. 
+
+59. Συμφέρονται δὲ ἄλλο οὗτοι τόδε τοῖσι 
+Πέρσησι' ἐπεὰν ἀποθανόντος τοῦ βασιλέος ἄλλος 
+> / 4 . € 9 N 3 ^ vy 
+ἐνίστηται βασιλεύς, οὗτος 0 ἐσιὼν ἐλευθεροῖ ὅστις 
+τι Σπαρτιητέων τῷ βασιλέι ἢ τῷ δημοσίῳ ὤφειλε' 
+3 3 . / e ΄ . ~ 
+ἐν δ᾽ αὖ Πέρσῃσι ὁ κατιστάµενος βασιλεὺς τὸν 
+προοφειλόμενον φόρον μετιεῖ τῆσι πόλισι πάσῃσι. 
+
+60. Συμφέρονται δὲ καὶ τάδε Αἰγυπτίοισι 
+Λακεδαιμόνιοι' οἱ κήρυκες αὐτῶν καὶ αὐληταὶ καὶ 
+μάγειροι ἐκδέκονται τὰς πατρωίας τέχνας, καὶ 
+αὐλητής τε αὐλητέω γίνεται καὶ μάγειρος μαγεί- 
+ρου καὶ κῆρυξ κήρυκος οὐ κατὰ λαμπροφωνίην 
+, / » / / , 
+ἐπιτιθέμενοι ἄλλοι σφέας παρακλήίουσι, ἀλλὰ 
+κατὰ τὰ πάτρια ἐπιτελέουσι. 
+
+61. Ἑαῦτα «μὲν δὴ οὕτω γίνεται. τότε δὲ τὸν 
+Κλεομένεα ἐόντα ἐν τῇ Αἰγίνῃ καὶ κοινὰ τῇ 
+Ἑλλάδι ἀγαθὰ προεργαξόµενον ὁ Δημάρητος διέ- 
+βαλε, οὐκ Αἰγινητέων οὕτω κηδόμενος ὡς φθ ove 
+καὶ ἄγῃ χρεώμενος. «Κλεομένης δὲ νοστήσας ἀπ᾽ 
+Αἰγίνης ἐβούλευε τὸν Δημάρητον παῦσαι τῆς 
+βασιληίης, διὰ πρῆγμα τοιόνδε ἐπίβασιν ἐ ἐς αὐτὸν 
+ποιεύμενος. ᾿Αρίστωνι βασιλεύοντι ἐν Σπάρτη 
+καὶ γήμαντι γυναῖκας δύο παῖδες οὐκ ἐγίνοντο. καὶ 
+
+
+206 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 58-61 
+
+
+make long and loud lamentation, calling that king 
+that is lateliest dead, whoever he be, the best of all 
+their kings. Whenever a king is slain in war, they 
+make an image of him and carry it out on a well- 
+bedecked bier, and after burial, for ten days there- 
+after there is no meeting for market or assize, nor 
+for choosing of magistrates, but these are days of 
+mourning. 
+
+59. Here is another matter wherein the Lacedae- 
+monians are like to the Persians :—When one king 
+is dead and another takes his office, this successor 
+releases from debt what Spartan soever owed any- 
+thing to the king or the commonwealth ; so too 
+among the Persians the king at the beginning of his 
+reign forgives all cities their arrears of tribute. 
+
+60. Moreover the Lacedaemonians are like the 
+Egyptians, in that their heralds and flute-players 
+and cooks inherit the craft from their fathers, a 
+flute-player's son being a flute-player, and a cook's 
+son a cook, and a herald's son a herald ; no others 
+usurp their places, making themselves heralds by 
+loudness of voice; they ply their craft by right of 
+birth, 
+
+61. Such is the way of these matters. But at the 
+time whereof I speak, while Cleomenes was in 
+Aegina, there working for what should be afterwards 
+the common advantage of Hellas, Demaratus spread 
+ill reports of him, less because he cared for the 
+Aeginetans, than out of jealousy and malice. When 
+Cleomenes returned back from Aegina, he planned 
+to depose Demaratus from his kingship; for what 
+cause he thus assailed him I will now show. Ariston, 
+king of Sparta, had married two wives, but no 
+children were born to him.  Believing that he 
+
+
+207 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οὐ γὰρ συνεγινώσκετο αὐτὸς τούτων εἶναι αἴτιος, 
+γαμέει τρίτην γυναῖκα ὧδε δὲ γαμέει. ἣν οἱ 
+φίλος τῶν Σπαρτιητέων ἀνήρ, τῷ προσεκέετο τῶν 
+ἀστῶν μάλιστα ὁ ᾿Αρίστων. τούτῳ τῷ ἀνδρὶ 
+ἐτύγχανε ἐοῦσα γυνὴ καλλίστη μακρῷ τῶν ἐν 
+Σπάρτῃ γυναικῶν, καὶ ταῦτα μέντοι καλλίστη ἐξ 
+αἰσχίστης γενομένη. ἐοῦσαν γάρ μιν τὸ εἶδος 
+φλαύρην ἡ τροφὸς αὐτῆς, οἷα ἀνθρώπων τε ὀλβίων 
+θυγατέρα καὶ δυσειδέα ἐ ἐοῦσαν, πρὸς δὲ καὶ ὁρῶσα 
+τοὺς γονέας συμφορὴν τὸ εἶδος αὐτῆς ποιευμένους, 
+ταῦτα ἕκαστα | μαθοῦσα ἐπιφράξεται τοιάδε" ἐφόρεε 
+αὐτὴν ἀνὰ πᾶσαν ἡμέρην ἐς τὸ τῆς Ἑλένης ἱρόν. 
+τὸ Ó ἐστὶ ἐν τῇ 'Θεράπνῃ καλεομένῃ ὕπερθε τοῦ 
+Φοιβηίου ἱ ἱροῦ. ὅκως δὲ ἐ ἐνείκειε ἡ τροφός, πρὸς τε 
+τῶγαλμα iota καὶ ἐλίσσετο τὴν θεὸν ἀπαλλάξαι 
+τῆς δυσμορφίης τὸ παιδίον. καὶ δή κοτε ἀπιούσῃ 
+ἐκ τοῦ ἱροῦ τῇ τροφῷ γυναῖκα λέγεται ἐπιφανῆναι, 
+ἐπιφανεῖσαν δὲ ἐπειρέσθαι. μιν ὅ τι φέρει ἐν τῇ 
+ἀγκάλη, καὶ τὴν φράσαι ὡς παιδίον φορέει, τὴν 
+δὲ κελεῦσαί οἱ δέξαι, τὴν δὲ οὐ φάναι" ἀπειρῆσθαι 
+γάρ οἱ ἐκ τῶν γειναμένων μηδενὶ ἐπιδεικνύναι" τὴν 
+δὲ πάντως ἑωυτῇ κελεύειν ἐπιδέξαι. ὁρῶσὰν δὲ 
+τὴν γυναῖκα περὶ πολλοῦ ποιευμένην ἰδέσθαι, οὕτω 
+δὴ τὴν τροφὸν δέξαι τὸ παιδίον" τὴν δὲ κατα- 
+ψώσαν τοῦ παιδίου τὴν κεφαλὴν εἶπαι ὡς καλ- 
+λιστεύσει πασέων τῶν ἐν Σπάρτῃ γυναικῶν. ἀπὸ 
+μὲν δὴ ταύτης τῆς ἡμέρης μεταπεσεῖν τὸ εἶδος. 
+γαμέει δὲ δή μιν ἐς γάμου ὥρην ἀπικομένην' "Αγητος 
+ὁ ᾿Αλκείδεω, οὗτος δὴ ὁ τοῦ ᾿Αρίστωνος φίλος. 
+
+62. Τὸν δὲ ᾿Αρίστωνα ἔκνιζε ἄρα τῆς γυναικὸς 
+ταύτης ὁ ἔρως' μηχανᾶται δὴ τοιάδε’ αὐτός τε τῷ 
+
+
+208 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 61-62 
+
+
+himself was not in fault, he married a third wife; 
+and this was how it came about. There was a certain 
+Spartan who was Ariston's nearest and dearest 
+friend. This man had a wife who was by far the 
+fairest of Spartan women, yet albeit she was now the 
+fairest she had been most ill-favoured. For, she 
+being of mean aspect, her nurse having in mind that 
+the daughter of a wealthy house was so uncomely, 
+and that her parents took her appearance much to 
+heart, bethought her for these reasons of a plan, 
+and carried the child every day to the shrine of 
+Helen, which is in the place called Therapne,! above 
+the temple of Phoebus. Thither the nurse would 
+bear the child, and set her by the image, and pray 
+the goddess to deliver her from her ill looks. Now 
+on a day, as the nurse was departing out of the 
+temple, a woman (it is said) appeared to her, and 
+asked her what she bore in her arms. “It is a 
+child," said the nurse. * Show it to me," said the 
+woman. “ That,’ quoth the nurse, “I cannot do; 
+for I am forbidden by the parents to show it to any." 
+** Nay," said the woman, “ but you must by all means 
+show me the child." So when the nurse saw that 
+the woman was very desirous to see the child, she 
+did then show it; whereupon the woman stroked 
+the child's head, and said that this should be the 
+fairest of all Spartan ladies. From that day, it is 
+said, the child's appearance changed ; and when she 
+came to marriageable age she was wedded to that 
+friend of Ariston, Agetus son of Alcidas. 
+
+62. But Ariston, it would seem, conceived a 
+passion for this woman ; and this was his device to 
+
+
+1 S.E. of Sparta; the legendary burial-place of Menelaus 
+and Helen. The foundations of a temple are still visible. 
+209 
+VOL. III, P 
+
+
+' HERODOTUS è è- 
+
+
+ἑταίρῳ, τοῦ ἣν ἡ γυνὴ αὕτη, ὑποδέκεται δωτίνην 
+δώσειν τῶν ἑωυτοῦ πάντων ἕν, τὸ ἂν αὐτὸς ἐκεῖνος 
+ἕληται, καὶ τὸν ἑταῖρον ἑωυτῷ ἐκέλευε ὡσαύτως τὴν 
+ὁμοίην διδόναι" ὃ ὃ δὲ οὐδὲν φοβηθεὶς ἀμφὶ τῇ γυναικί, 
+ὀρέων ἐοῦσαν καὶ ᾿Αρίστωνι γυναῖκα, καταινέει 
+ταῦτα" ἐπὶ τούτοισι δὲ ὅρκους ἐπήλασαν. μετὰ 
+δὲ αὐτός Teo A ρύστων ἔδωκε τοῦτο, ὅ τι .δὴ ἢ ἦν, τὸ 
+εἵλετο τῶν κειμηλίων τῶν ᾿Αρίστωνος ὁ "Ayrrros, 
+kai αὐτὸς τὴν ὁμοίην -ξητέων φέρεσθαι παρ᾽ 
+ἐκείνου, ἐνθαῦτα δὴ τοῦ ἑταίρου τὴν γυναῖκα 
+ἐπειρᾶτο ἀπάγεσθαι. ὃ δὲ πλὴν τούτου μούνου τὰ 
+ἄλλα ἔφη καταινέσαι' ἀναγκαξόμενος μέντοι τῷ 
+τε ὅρκῳ καὶ τῆς ἀπάτης τῇ παραγωγῇ ἀπιεῖ 
+ἀπάγεσθαι. 
+
+68. Οὕτω μὲν δὴ τὴν τρίτην ἐσηγάγετο γυναῖκα 
+ὁ ᾿Αρίστων, τὴν δευτέρην ἀποπεμψάμενος. ἐν δέ οἱ 
+χρόνῳ ἐλάσσονι καὶ οὐ ) πληρώσασα τοὺς δέκα μῆνας 
+7 γυνὴ αὕτη τίκτει τοῦτον δὴ τὸν Δημάρητον. καί 
+τίς οἱ τῶν οἰκετέων ἐν θώκῳ κατημένῳ μετὰ τῶν 
+ἐφόρων ἐξαγγέλλει ὥς οἱ παῖς γέγονε. ὃ δὲ 
+ἐπιστάμενός τε τὸν χρόνον τῷ ἠγάγετο τὴν γυναῖκα 
+καὶ ἐπὶ δακτύλων συμβαλλόμενος τοὺς -μῆνας, εἶπε 
+ἀπομόσας “Οὐκ ἂν ἐμὸς εἴη. τοῦτο ἤκουσαν μὲν 
+οἱ ἔφοροι, πρῆγμα μέντοι οὐδὲν ἐποιήσαντο τὸ 
+παραυτίκα. ὁ δὲ παῖς ηὔξετο, καὶ τῷ ᾿Αρίστωνι 
+τὸ εἰρημένον μετέμελε' παῖδα γὰρ τὸν ᾿Δημάρητον 
+ἐς τὰ μάλιστά οἱ ἐνόμισε εἶναι. Δημάρητον δὲ 
+αὐτῷ οὔνομα ἔθετο διὰ τόδε" πρότερον τούτων παν- 
+δημεὶ Σπαρτιῆται ᾿Αρίστωνι, á ὡς ἀνδρὶ εὐδοκιμέοντι 
+διὰ πάντων δὴ τῶν Βασιλέων τῶν ἐν Σπάρτῃ 
+γενομένων, ἀρὴν ἐποιήσαντο παῖδα γένεσθαι. 
+
+64. Διὰ τοῦτο μέν οἱ τὸ οὔνομα Δημάρητος 
+210 
+
+
+** BOOK VI. 62-64 
+
+
+get her. He promised his friend, the husband of 
+this woman, that he would make him a present of 
+some one of his possessions, whatever the friend 
+himself should choose, on condition that his friend 
+should give him a recompense in like manner. 
+Having no fear for his wife,—seeing that Ariston 
+had a wife also,—Agetus consented thereto; and 
+they swore an oath upon it. Then Ariston gave 
+Agetus whatsoever it was that he chose out of 
+Ariston’s treasures; for himself, as the recompense 
+that he was fain to win from Agetus, he essayed to 
+take away his friend's wife. Agetus said he would 
+consent to all else, save only that; howbeit he was 
+compelled by his oath and the trick whereby he was 
+decéived, and suffered Ariston to take her. 
+
+63. Thus Ariston brought home his third wife, 
+having divorced the second; and in a shorter time 
+than the full ten months his wife bore him a child, 
+the Demaratus aforesaid. He was sitting in council 
+with the ephors when one of his household came to 
+tell him that a son was born to him; and knowing 
+the time of his marriage, he reckoned the months 
+on his fingers and said, with an oath, “ The boy can- 
+not be mine.” The ephors heard that; but for the 
+nonce they took no account of it. As the boy grew, 
+Ariston repented him of what he had said; for he 
+believed Demaratus to be in very truth his son. He 
+called him Demaratus, because ere this the whole 
+** people " of the Spartans had “ prayed ” that Ariston 
+might have a son, he being held in greater honour 
+than any king of Sparta. 
+
+64. For that cause the name Demaratus was 
+
+21I 
+
+
+P 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐτέθη' χρόνου δὲ προϊόντος ᾿Αρίστων μὲν ἀπέθανε, 
+Δημάρητος δὲ ἔσχε τὴν βασιληίην. ἔδεε δέ, ὡς 
+ἔοικε, ἀνάπυστα γενόμενα ταῦτα καταπαῦσαι 
+Δημάρητον τῆς βασιληίης διὰ τὰ . A Κλεομένεϊ 
+διεβλήθη μεγάλως πρότερόν τε ὁ Δημάρητος ἀπ- 
+αγαγὼν τὴν στρατιὴν ἐξ Ἐλευσῖνος, καὶ δὴ καὶ 
+τότε ἐπ Αἰγινητέων τοὺς μηδίσαντας διαβάντος 
+Κλεομένεος. 
+
+65. Ὁρμηθεὶς ὧν ἀποτίνυσθαι ὁ Κλεομένης 
+συντίθεται Λευτυχίδῃ τῷ Μενάρεος τοῦ "Άγιος, 
+ἐόντι οἰκίης τῆς αὐτῆς Δημαρήτῳ, ἐπ᾽ ᾧ τε, ἦν 
+αὐτὸν καταστήσῃ βασιλέα ἀντὶ Δημαρήτου, ἕψε- 
+ταί οἱ ἐπ᾽ Αἰγινήτας. ὁ δὲ Λευτυχίδης ἦν ἐχθρὸς 
+τῷ Δημαρήτῳ μάλιστα γεγονὼς διὰ πρῆγμα 
+τοιόνδε" ἁρμοσαμένου, Λευτυχίδεω Ἡέρκαλον: τὴν 
+Χίλωνος τοῦ Δημαρμένου θυγατέρα, ὁ ο Δημάρητος 
+ἐπιβουλεύσας à ἀποστερέει Λευτυχίδεα τοῦ γάμου, 
+φθάσας αὐτὸς τὴν Πέρκαλον å ἁρπάσας καὶ σ OV 
+γυναῖκα. κατὰ τοῦτο μὲν τῷ Λευτυχίδῃ ἡ 7) ἔχ pn 
+ἡ ἐς τὸν Δημάρητον ἐγεγόνεε, τότε δὲ ἐκ τῆς 
+Κλεομένεος προθυμίης ὁ Λευτυχίδης κατόμνυται 
+Δημαρήτῳ, φὰς αὐτὸν οὐκ ἱκνεομένως βασιλεύειν 
+
+παρτιητέων οὐκ ἐόντα παῖδα ᾿Αρίστωνος" μετὰ 
+δὲ τὴν κατωμοσίην ἐδίωκε, ἀνασώξων ἐ ἐκεῖνο τὸ ἔπος 
+τὸ εἶπε ᾿Αρίστων : τότε ὅτε οἱ ἐξήγγειλε ὁ οἰκέτης 
+παῖδα γεγονέναι, ὃ δὲ συμβαλόμενος τοὺς μῆνας 
+ἀπώμοσε φὰς οὐκ ἑωυτοῦ μιν εἶναι. τούτου 
+ἐπιβατεύων τοῦ ῥήματος ὁ Λευτυχίδης ἀπέφαινε 
+τὸν Δημάρητον οὔτε ἐξ Αρίστωνος γεγονότα οὔτε 
+ἱκνευμένως βασιλεύοντα Σπάρτης, τοὺς ἐφόρους 
+μάρτυρας παρεχόμενος κείνους οἳ τότε ἐτύγχανον 
+
+1 Perhaps Herodotus wrote διὰ τοίηνδε τινὰ αἰτίην. 
+212 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 64-65 
+
+
+given to the boy; and as time went on Ariston 
+died, and Demaratus obtained his kingship. But 
+fate (it would seem) willed that these matters should 
+be discovered and lose Demaratus his kingship for 
+some such reason as this. Cleomenes had been 
+bitterly at enmity with Demaratus ere this, when 
+Demaratus led his army away from Eleusis, and as 
+bitterly now when he himself had crossed over to 
+punish those Aeginetans who espoused the Persian 
+cause. 
+
+65. Being therefore desirous of revenge, Cleomenes 
+made an agreement with a man of Demaratus' family, 
+Leutychides son of Menares, who was the son of 
+Agis, that if he made Leutychides king in De- 
+maratus' stead, Leutychides should go with him 
+against the Aeginetans. Now Leutychides was a 
+mortal foe of Demaratus; for he having been 
+betrothed to Percalus, daughter of Chilon the son 
+of Demarmenus, Demaratus had plotted and robbed 
+Leutychides of his bride, carrying her off before the 
+marriage and wedding her himself. Such was the 
+reason of Leutychides' feud with Demaratus; and 
+now by Cleomenes' instigation he brought an 
+accusation against Demaratus, alleging him to be no 
+rightful king of Sparta, seeing that he was not the 
+son of Ariston; which accusation being laid he im- 
+peached Demaratus in court, ever keeping in mind 
+what Ariston had said when the servant brought 
+news of the birth of a son, and on a reckoning of the 
+months he swore that the boy was none of his. On 
+that saying Leutychides took his stand, and strove 
+to prove that Demaratus was no son of Ariston or 
+rightful king of Sparta, by calling as witnesses those 
+
+
+213 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+/ r 97 \ > 2 : ^ 3 , 
+πάρεδροί τε ἐόντες καὶ ἀκούσαντες ταῦτα ᾿Αρί- 
+στωνος. 
+
+66. Τέλος δὲ ἐόντων περὶ αὐτῶν νεικέων, ἔδοξε 
+Σπαρτιήτῃσι ἐπειρέσθαι τὸ χρηστήριον τὸ ἐν 
+Δελφοῖσι εἰ ᾿Αρίστωνος εἴη παῖς ὁ Δημάρητος. 
+ἀνοίστου δὲ γενομένου ἐκ προνοίης τῆς Κλεομένεος 
+3 M 4 3 ^ OPE [4 
+ἐς τὴν Πυθίην, ἐνθαῦτα προσποιέεται Κλεομένης 
+Κόβωνα τὸν ᾿Αριστοφάντου, ἄνδρα ἐν Δελφοῖσι 
+δυναστεύοντα μέγιστον, ὁ δὲ Κύβων Περίαλλαν 
+
+. , , / M , , 7 
+τὴν πρόμαντιν ἀναπείθει τὰ Κλεομένης ἐβούλετο 
+
+/ / e \ ο / 3 / 
+λέγεσθαι λέγειν. οὕτω δὴ ἡ Πυθίη ἐπειρωτώντων 
+τῶν θεοπρόπων ἔκρινε μὴ ᾿Αρίστωνος εἶναι Δημά- 
+ρητον παῖδα. ὑστέρῳ μέντοι χρόνῳ ἀνάπυστα 
+ἐγένετο ταῦτα, καὶ Κόβων τε ἔφυγε ἐκ Δελφῶν 
+καὶ Περίαλλα ἡ πρόμαντις ἐπαύσθη τῆς τιμῆς. 
+
+67. Κατὰ μὲν δὴ Δημαρήτου τὴν κατάπαυσιν 
+
+- / [4 > / 9 \ 7 
+τῆς βασιληίης οὕτω ἐγένετο, ἔφυγε δὲ Δημάρητος 
+, , , / , e^ , / N 
+ἐκ Σπάρτης ἐς Μήδους ἐκ τοιοῦδε ὀνείδεος. μετὰ 
+τῆς βασιληίης τὴν κατάπαυσιν ὁ Δημάρητος ἦρχε 
+αἱρεθεὶς ἀρχήν. ἦσαν μὲν δὴ γυμνοπαιδίαι, θεωμέ- 
+νου δὲ τοῦ Δημαρήτου ὁ Λευτυχίδης γεγονὼς ἤδη 
+N LENA! , > 9 / / . 4 
+βασιλεὺς αὐτὸς avr ἐκείνου, πέμψας τὸν θερά- 
+ποντα ἐπὶ γέλωτί τε καὶ λάσθῃ εἰρώτα τὸν 
+Δημάρητον ὁκοῖόν τι εἴη τὸ ἄρχειν μετὰ τὸ βασι- 
+λεύειν. ὃ δὲ ἀλγήσας τῷ ἐπειρωτήματι εἶπε φὰς 
+αὐτὸς μὲν ἀμφοτέρων ἤδη πεπειρῆσθαι, κεῖνον δὲ 
+οὔ, τὴν μέντοι ἐπειρώτησιν ταύτην ἄρξειν Λακε- 
+δαιμονίοισι ἢ μυρίης κακότητος ἢ μυρίης εὐδαι- 
+μονίης. ταῦτα δὲ εἴπας καὶ κατακαλυψ-άμενος ἤιε 
+214 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 65-67 
+
+
+ephors who had then been sitting in council and 
+heard Ariston say that. 
+
+66. At the last, the matter being in dispute, the 
+Spartans resolved to enquire of the Delphic oracle 
+if Demaratus were the son of Ariston. This was 
+reported to the Pythian priestess by the instigation 
+of Cleomenes ; who then gained the aid of Cobon son 
+of Aristophantus, a man of very great power at 
+Delphi; and Cobon over-persuaded Perialla, the 
+prophetess, to say what Cleomenes desired to be 
+said. On this the priestess, when the messengers 
+enquired of her, gave judgment that Demaratus was 
+not the son of Ariston. But at a later day these 
+doings were discovered; Cobon was banished from 
+Delphi and Perialla the prophetess was deprived of 
+her honourable office. | 
+
+67. This then was how Demaratus was deposed 
+from his kingship; and he betook himself from 
+Sparta into banishment among the Medes by reason 
+of a reproach of which I will now tell. After he 
+was deposed, Demaratus held an office whereto he 
+had been elected. Now while the festival of the 
+Naked Men! was celebrating, and Demaratus watch- 
+ing it, Leutychides, having by this time been made 
+king in his place, sent his servant to ask Demaratus 
+by way of mere mockery and insult how he liked 
+his office after being a king.  Wroth at that question, 
+Demaratus made answer that he had made trial of 
+both states, which Leutychides had not; but of that 
+question (he said) 'twas likelier that huge calamity 
+would come upon Lacedaemon than huge prosperity. 
+Thus he spoke, and covering his head he quitted the 
+
+
+! A midsummer festival, celebrated at Sparta by bands 
+of naked boys and men, 
+
+
+215 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐκ τοῦ θεήτρου ἐς τὰ ἑωυτοῦ οἰκία, αὐτίκα δὲ 
+παρασκευασάμενος ἔθυε τῷ Διὶ βοῦν, θύσας δὲ 
+τὴν μητέρα ἐκάλεσε. 
+
+68. ᾿Απικομένῃ δὲ τῇ μητρὶ ἐσθεὶς ἐς τὰς χεῖράς 
+οἱ τῶν σπλάγχνων κατικέτευε, τοιάδε λέγων. eo 
+μῆτερ, θεῶν σε τῶν τε ἄλλων καταπτόμενος ixe- 
+τεύω καὶ τοῦ ἑρκείου Διὸς τοῦδε φράσαι μοι τὴν 
+ἀληθείην, τίς μεν ἐστὶ πατὴρ ὀρθῷ λόγῳ. Λευτι'- 
+χίδης μὲν γὰρ ἔφη ἐν τοῖσι νείκεσι λέγων κυέουσάν 
+σε ἐκ τοῦ προτέρου ἀνδρὸς οὕτω ἐλθεῖν παρὰ 
+᾿Αρίστωνα' οἱ δὲ καὶ τὸν µαταιότερον͵ λόγον 
+λέγοντες φασί σε ἐλθεῖν παρὰ τῶν οἰκετέων τὸν 
+ὀνοφορβόν, καὶ ἐμὲ ἐκείνου εἶναι παῖδα. ἐγώ. σε 
+ὧν μετέρχομαι τῶν θεῶν εἰπεῖν TONNO ES οὔτε 
+γάρ, εἶ περ πεποίηκάς τι τῶν λεγομένων, μούνη δη 
+πεποίηκας, μετὰ πολλέων δέ ὅ ὅ τε λόγος πολλὸς 
+ἐν Σπάρτῃ ὡς ᾿Αρίστωνι σπέρμα παιδοποιὸν οὐκ 
+ἐνῆν" τεκεῖν γὰρ à ἄν οἱ καὶ τὰς προτέρας γυναῖκας.” 
+
+69. Ὃ μὲν δὴ τοιαῦτα ἔλεγε, ἣ δὲ ἀμείβετο 
+τοῖσιδε. “Q παῖ, ἐπείτε με λιτῇσι μετέρχεαι 
+εἰπεῖν τὴν ἀληθείην, πᾶν ἐς σὲ κατειρήσεται 
+τὠληθές. ὥς HE ἠγάγετο ᾿Αρίστων ἐς ἑωυτοῦ, 
+νυκτὶ τρίτῃ ἀπὸ τῆς πρώτης ἦλθέ μοι φάσμα 
+εἰδόμενον ᾿Αρίστωνι, συνευνηθὲν δὲ τοὺς στεφά- 
+νους τοὺς εἶχε ἐμοὶ περιετίθεε. καὶ τὸ μὲν 
+οἰχώκεε, ἧκε δὲ μετὰ ταῦτα ᾿Αρίστων. ὡς δέ 
+με εἶδε ἔ ἔχουσαν. στεφάνους, εὐρώτα τίς εἴη µοι ὁ 
+Sous" ἐγὼ δὲ ἐφάμην ἐ ἐκεῖνον, ὃ δὲ οὐκ ὑπεδέκετο. 
+ἐγὼ δὲ κατωμνύμην φαμένη αὐτὸν οὐ ποιέειν 
+καλῶς ἀπαρνεόμενον' ὀλίγῳ γάρ τι πρότερον 
+ἐλθόντα καὶ συνευνηθέντα δοῦναί μοι τοὺς στεφά- 
+νους. ὀρέων δέ µε κατομνυμένην ὁ ᾿Αρίστων 
+216 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 67-69 
+
+
+theatre and went to his own house; there he made 
+ready and sacrificed an ox to Zeus; after which 
+sacrifice he called to him his mother. 
+
+68. She came, and he put a part of the entrails in 
+her hands, and said in entreaty: “My mother, I 
+entreat you in the name of the gods, but especially 
+Zeus of the household in whose presence we stand : 
+tell me now truly, who was in very deed my father. 
+For Leutychides said in those disputes, that you had 
+asonin you by your first husband when you came to 
+Ariston ; and others there are that have a yet more 
+random tale, saying that you consorted with one of 
+the household that was the ass-keeper, and that it 
+is his son that I am. "Therefore I entreat you by 
+the gods to tell me the truth; for if you have done 
+aught such as they say of you, not you only but 
+many other women have done the like; and it is 
+currently reported at Sparta that Ariston had it not 
+in him to be a father, else would his former wives 
+have borne him children." 
+
+69. Thus he spoke, and thus she answered him: 
+* My son, since you pray and entreat me to tell you 
+the truth, the whole truth shall be told to you. On 
+the third night after Ariston had brought me to his 
+house, there came to me an appearance like to 
+Ariston, and lay with me, and then put on me the 
+garlands which he had. So when that figure was 
+gone, presently Ariston came to me. Seeing the 
+garlands on me, he asked me who had given them; 
+I said they were his gift, but he denied it. Then I 
+said, and swore it, that he did not well to deny it ; 
+for, I told him, he had come but a little while ago 
+and lain with me and so given me the garlands. 
+When Ariston saw that I swore to that, he per- 
+
+
+217 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἔμαθε ὡς θεῖον εἴη τὸ πρῆγμα. καὶ τοῦτο μὲν 
+οὐ στέφανοι ἐφάνησαν ἐόντες ἐκ τοῦ ἡρωίου τοῦ 
+παρὰ τῇσι θύρησι τῆσι αὐλείῃσι ἱδρυμένου, τὸ 
+καλέουσι ᾿Αστροβάκου, τοῦτο δὲ οἱ μάντιες τὸν 
+αὐτὸν τοῦτον ἥρωα ἀναίρεον εἶναι. οὕτω ὦ παῖ 
+ἔχεις πᾶν, ὅσον τι καὶ .Βούλεαι πυθέσθαι' ἢ ἢ γὰρ 
+ἐκ τοῦ ἥρωος τούτου γέγονας, καί τοι πατήρ ἐστι 
+᾿Αστρόβακος ò ἥρως, 7 ᾿Αρίστων' ἐν γάρ σε τῇ 
+νυκτὶ ταύτῃ ἀναιρέομαι. τῇ δέ σευ μάλιστα 
+κατάπτονται οἱ .ἐχθροί, λέγοντες ὡς αὐτὸς 0 
+᾿Αρίστων, ὅτε αὐτῷ σὺ ἠγγέλθης γεγενημένος, 
+πολλῶν ἀκουόντων οὐ φήσειέ σε ἑωυτοῦ εἶναι (τὸν 
+χρόνον γάρ, τοὺς δέκα μῆνας, οὐδέκω ἐξήκειν), 
+ἀιδρείῃ τῶν τοιούτων κεῖνος τοῦτο ἀπέρριψε τὸ 
+ἔπος. τίκτουσι γὰρ γυναῖκες καὶ ἐννεάμηνα καὶ 
+ἑπτάμηνα, καὶ οὐ πᾶσαι δέκα μῆνας ἐκτελέσασαι" 
+ἐγὼ δὲ σὲ ὦ παῖ ἑπτάμηνον ἔτεκον. ἔγνω δὲ καὶ 
+αὐτὸς ὁ ᾿Αρίστων οὐ μετὰ πολλὸν χρόνον ὡς 
+ἀνοίῃ τὸ ἔπος ἐκβάλοι τοῦτο. λόγους δὲ ἄλλους 
+περὶ γενέσιος τῆς σεωυτοῦ μὴ δέκεο' τὰ γὰρ 
+ἀληθέστατα πάντα ἀκήκοας. ἐκ δὲ ὀνοφορβῶν 
+αὐτῷ τε Λευτυχίδῃ καὶ τοῖσι ταῦτα λέγουσι 
+τίκτοιεν αἱ γυναῖκες. παῖδας. 
+
+Τ0. Ἢ μὲν δὴ ταῦτα ἔλεγε, ὃ δὲ πυθόμενός τε 
+τὰ ἐβούλετο καὶ ὁ ἐπόδια λαβὼν ἐ ἐπορεύετο ἐς λιν, 
+τῷ λόγῳ pas ὡς ἐς Δελφοὺς χρησόμενος τῷ χρη- 
+στηρίῳ πορεύεται. Λακεδαιμόνιοι δὲ ὑποτοπη- 
+θέντες Δημάρητον δρησμῷ ἐπιχειρέειν ἐδίωκον. 
+καί κως ἔφθη ἐς Ζάκυνθον διαβὰς 0 Δημάρητος 
+ἐκ τῆς Ἤλιδος" ἐπιδιαβάντες δὲ οἱ Λακεδαιμόνιοι 
+αὐτοῦ τε ἅπτοντο καὶ τοὺς θεράποντας αὐτοῦ 
+ἀπαιρέονται. μετὰ δέ, οὐ γὰρ ἐξεδίδοσαν αὐτὸν 
+218 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 69-70 
+
+
+ceived that the hand of heaven was in the matter ; 
+and not only were the garlands plainly seen to have 
+come from the hero's shrine they call Astrobacus' 
+shrine, that stands by the door of the courtyard, but 
+the diviners declared that it was that same hero, 
+Astrobacus, that had visited me. Thus, my son, you 
+have all that you desire to know; for either you are 
+the son of that hero, and the hero Astrobacus is your 
+father, or Ariston is; for on that night did I con- 
+ceive you. « But as touching the plea that they most 
+urge against you, namely, that Ariston himself, 
+when your birth was announced to him, said in the 
+hearing of many that you were not his son, the full 
+ten months’ time being not completed: that was an 
+idle word that he spoke, as not knowing the truth of 
+such matters; for not all women complete the full 
+ten months’ time, but some bear children after nine 
+months, or even after seven; and you, my son, were 
+born after seven months. It was not long ere 
+Ariston himself came to know that this was a foolish 
+word that had escaped him. Give no credence to 
+any other tales concerning your birth; for this is 
+very truth that I have told you; and for Leutychides 
+himself and those that tell such tales, may Bey be 
+cuckolded by their ass-keepers.”’ 
+
+70. Thus his mother spoke. Demaratus, having 
+learnt what he desired, took provision for the way and 
+journeyed to Elis, pretending that he journeyed to 
+Delphi to enquire of the oracle. But the Lacedae- 
+monians suspected that he planned to escape, and 
+pursued after him; Demaratus was by some means 
+beforehand with them and crossed the sea from Elis 
+to Zacynthus; the Lacedaemonians crossed over 
+after him and strove to lay hands on him, carrying 
+
+
+219" 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οἱ Ζακύνθιοι, ἐνθεῦτεν διαβαίνει ἐς τὴν ᾿Ασίην 
+παρὰ βασιλέα Δαρεῖον. ὃ δὲ ὑπεδέξατό τε αὐτὸν 
+μεγαλωστὶ καὶ γῆν τε καὶ πόλιας ἔδωκε. οὕτω 
+ἀπίκετο ἐς τὴν ᾿Ασίην Δημάρητος καὶ τοιαύτῃ 
+χρησάμενος τύχη, ἄλλα τε Λακεδαιμονίοισι συχνὰ 
+ἔργοισί τε καὶ γνώμῃσι ἀπολαμπρυνθείς, ἐν δὲ δὴ 
+καὶ Ὀλυμπιάδα σφι ἀνελόμενος τεθρίππῳ προσ- 
+έβαλε, μοῦνος τοῦτο πάντων δὴ τῶν γενομένων 
+βασιλέων ἐν Σπάρτη ποιήσας. : 
+
+71. Λευτυχίδης δὲ o Mevápeos Δημαρήτου κατα- 
+παυσθέντος A ἐδέξατο τὴν βασιληίην, καί οἱ γίνε- 
+ται παῖς Ζευξίδημος, τὸν δὴ Κυνίσκον μετεξέτεροι 
+Σπαρτιητέων ἐκάλεον. οὗτος ὁ Ζευξίδημος οὐκ 
+ἐβασίλευσε Σπάρτης, πρὸ Λευτυχίδεω γὰρ τε- 
+λευτᾷ, λιπὼν παῖδα ᾿Αρχίδημον. Λευτυχίδης δὲ 
+στερηθεὶς Ζευξιδήμου γαμέει δευτέρην γυναῖκα 
+Εὐρυδάμην τὴν ἐοῦσαν Μενίου ἀδελφεὴν Διακτο- 
+ρίδεω δὲ θυγατέρα, ἐκ τῆς οἱ ἔρσεν μὲν γίνεται 
+οὐδέν, θυγάτηρ δὲ Λαμπιτώ, τὴν ᾿Αρχίδημος ὃ 
+Ζευξιδήμου γαμέει δόντος αὐτῷ en 
+
+72. Οὐ μὲν οὐδὲ Λευτυχίδης κατεγήρα ἐν 
+Σπάρτῃ, ἀλλὰ τίσιν τοιήνδε τινὰ Δημαρήτῳ 
+ἐξέτισε. ἐστρατήγησε Λακεδαιμονίοισι ἐς Θεσ- 
+σαλίην, παρεὸν δέ οἱ πάντα ὑποχείρια ποιήσα- 
+σθαι ἐδωροδόκησε ἀργύριον πολλόν: ἐπ᾿ αὐτοφώρῳ 
+δὲ ἁλοὺς αὐτοῦ ἐν τῷ στρατοπέδῳ, ἐπικατήμενος 
+χειρίδι πλέῃ ἀργυρίου, ἔφυγε ἐκ Σπάρτης ὑπὸ δι- 
+καστήριον ὑπαχθείς, καὶ τὰ οἰκία οἱ κατεσκάφη" 
+ἔφυγε δὲ ἐς Τεγέην καὶ ἐτελεύτησε ἐν ταύτῃ. 
+
+73. Ταῦτα μὲν δὴ ἐγένετο χρόνῳ ὕστερον: τότε 
+δὲ ὡς τῷ Κλεομένεϊ ὡδώθη τὸ ἐς τὸν Δημάρητον 
+
+
+229 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 70-73 
+
+
+off his servants. Then, the. Zacynthians refusing to 
+give him up, he crossed thence to Asia and betook 
+himself to king Darius, who received him royally and 
+gave him lands and cities. Thus and after such 
+adventures came Demaratus to Asia, a man that had 
+gained much renown in Lacedaemon by his many 
+achievements and his wisdom, but most by making 
+over to the state the victory in a chariot-race that 
+he had won at Olympia; he was the only king of 
+Sparta who did this. | 
+
+71. Demaratus being deposed, Leutychides son 
+of Menares succeeded to his kingship; and there 
+was born to him a son, Zeuxidemus, called by some 
+of the Spartans Cyniscus. This Zeuxidemus never 
+came to be king of Sparta; for he died in 
+Leutychides' lifetime, leaving a son, Archidemus. 
+Having thus lost Zeuxidemus, Leutychides married 
+a second wife, Eurydame, sister of Menius and 
+daughter of Diactorides; by her he had no male 
+issue, but a daughter, Lampito, to whom Archidemus 
+son of Zeuxidemus was married by Leutychides. 
+
+72. But neither did Leutychides himself win to 
+old age in Sparta; he was punished for his dealing 
+with Demaratus, as I wil show: he led a Lace- 
+daemonian army to Thessaly,! and when he might 
+have subdued all the country he took a great bribe; 
+and being caught in the very act of hoarding a 
+sleeve full of silver there in the camp, he was 
+brought before a court and banished from Sparta, 
+and his house destroyed; and he went into exile at 
+Tegea and there died. 
+
+73. This befel long afterwards; but at the time 
+of my story, Cleomenes, his dealing in the matter of 
+
+
+1 The date is uncertain ; about 475 or 470, probably. 
+221 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+πρῆγμα, αὐτίκα παραλαβὼν Λευτυχίδεα ἥιε ἐπὶ 
+τοὺς Αἰγινήτας, δεινόν τινά σφι ἔγκοτον. διὰ τὸν 
+προπηλακισμὸν ἔχων. οὕτω δὴ οὔτε οἱ -Αἰγινῆται, 
+ἀμφοτέρων τῶν βασιλέων ἡκόντων ἐπ᾽ αὐτούς, 
+ἐδικαίευν ἔτι ἀντιβαίνειν, ἐκεῖνοί τε ἐπιλεξάμενοι 
+ἄνδρας δέκα Αἰγινητέων τοὺς πλείστου ἀξίους καὶ 
+πλούτῳ καὶ γένεϊ ἦγον καὶ ἄλλους καὶ δὴ καὶ 
+Κριόν τε τὸν Πολυκρίτου καὶ Κάσαμβον τὸν 
+᾿Αριστοκράτεος, οἵ περ εἶχον μέγιστον. κράτος" 
+ἀγαγόντες δὲ σφέας ἐς γῆν τὴν ᾿Αττικὴν παρα- 
+ήκην παρατίθενται ἐ ἐς τοὺς ἐχθίστους Αἰγινήτησι 
+᾿Αθηναίους. 
+
+74, Μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα Κλεομένεα ἐπάιστον γενό- 
+μενον κακοτεχνήσαντα ἐς Δημάρητον δεῖμα ἔλαβε 
+Σπαρτιητέων, καὶ ὑπεξέσχε € ἐς Θεσσαλίην. ἐνθεῦ- 
+Te δὲ ἀπικόμενος ἐς τὴν ᾿Αρκαδίην νεώτερα 
+ἔπρησσε πρήγματα, συνιστὰς τοὺς ᾿Αρκάδας ἐπὶ 
+τῇ Σπάρτη, ἄλλους τε -ὅρκους προσάγων σφι 5 
+μὲν ἕψεσθαι σφέας αὐτῷ τῇ ἂν ἐξηγέηται, καὶ δὴ 
+καὶ ἐς Νώνακριν πόλιν πρόθυμος ἡ ἦν τῶν ᾿Αρκάδων 
+τοὺς προεστεῶτας ἀγινέων ἐξορκοῦν τὸ Στυγὸς 
+ὕδωρ. ἐν δὲ ταύτῃ τῇ πόλι λέγεται εἶναι ὑπὸ 
+τῶν ᾿Αρκάδων τὸ Στυγὸς ὕδωρ, καὶ δὴ καὶ ἔστι 
+τοιόνδε τι ὕδωρ ὀλίγον φαινόμενον. ἐκ πέτρης 
+στάξει ἐς ἄγκος, τὸ δὲ ἄγκος αἱμασιῆς τις περι- 
+θέει κύκλος. ἡ δὲ Νώνακρις, è ἐν τῇ ἡ πηγὴ αὕτη 
+τυγχάνει ἐοῦσα, πόλις ἐστὶ τῆς ᾿Ἀρκαδίης πρὸς 
+
+ενεῷ. 
+
+15. Μαθόντες δὲ Κλεομένεα Λακεδαιμόνιοι ταῦ- 
+τα πρήσσοντα, κατῆγον αὐτὸν δείσαντες ἐπὶ τοῖσι 
+αὐτοῖσι ἐς Σπάρτην τοῖσι καὶ πρότερον ἦρχε. 
+κατελθόντα δὲ αὐτὸν αὐτίκα ὑπέλαβε μανίη 
+222 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 73-75 
+
+
+Demaratus being so sped, forthwith took Leuty- 
+chides with him and went to punish the Aeginetans, 
+against whom he was terribly wroth by reason of 
+their despiteful usage of him. When the Aeginetans 
+saw that both the kings were come after them, they 
+now deemed it best to offer no further resistance ; 
+and the kings chose out ten men of Aegina who were 
+most honoured for wealth and lineage, among them 
+Crius son of Polycritus and Casambus son of 
+Aristocrates, the two most powerful men in Aegina ; 
+these they carried to Attica and gave them into the 
+keeping of the Athenians, the bitterest foes of the 
+ Aeginetans. 
+
+74. After this, Cleomenes' treacherous plot against 
+Demaratus became known ; and he was seized with 
+fear of the Spartans and slunk away into Thessaly. 
+Coming thence into Arcadia he wrought disorder 
+in that country; for he strove to unite the Arcadians 
+against Sparta; besides his other ways of binding 
+them by oath to follow him to whatsoever enterprise 
+he led them, he was fain to bring the chief men in 
+Arcadia to the town of Nonacris and make them to 
+swear by the water of Styx.! Near this town is 
+said to be the Arcadian water of Styx, and this 
+is its nature: it is a stream, small to behold, that 
+flows from a cliff into a pool; a wall of stones runs 
+round the pool. Nonacris, where this spring rises, 
+is a town of Arcadia nigh to Pheneus. 
+
+75. When the Lacedaemonians learnt that such 
+was Cleomenes' intent, they took fright, and brought 
+him back to Sparta, there to be king as he had 
+heretofore been. But Cleomenes had ere now been 
+
+
+1 The ‘‘water of Styx” is a mountain torrent flowing 
+through a desolate ravine on the N. face of Chelmos. 
+
+
+223 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+νοῦσος, ἐόντα καὶ πρότερον ὑπομαργότερον" ὅκως 
+γὰρ τεῷ ἐντύχοι Σπαρτιητέων, ἐνέχραυε ἐς τὸ 
+πρόσωπον τὸ σκῆπτρον. ποιέοντα δὲ αὐτὸν ταῦ- 
+τα καὶ παραφρονήσαντα ἔδησαν οἱ προσήκοντες 
+ἐν ξύλῳ" ὃ δὲ δεθεὶς τὸν φύλακον μουνωθέντα 
+ἐδὼν τῶν ἄλλων αἰτέει μάχαιραν: οὐ βουλομένου 
+δὲ τὰ . πρῶτα τοῦ φυλάκου διδόναι ἀπείλεε τά 
+μιν αὖτις ποιήσει, ἐς ὃ δείσας τὰς ἀπειλὰς ὁ 
+φύλακος (ἦν γὰρ τῶν τις εἱλωτέων) διδοῖ οἱ 
+μάχαιραν. Κλεομένης δὲ παραλαβὼν τὸν σίδη- 
+ρον ἄρχετο ἐκ τῶν. κνημέων ἑωυτὸν λωβώμενος” 
+ἐπιτάμνων γὰρ κατὰ μῆκος τὰς σάρκας προέβαινε 
+ἐκ τῶν κνημέων ἐς τοὺς μηρούς, ἐκ δὲ τῶν μηρῶν 
+ἔς τε, τὰ ἰσχία καὶ τὰς , λαπάρας, ἐς ὃ ἐς τὴν 
+γαστέρα ἀπίκετο, καὶ ταύτην καταχορδεύων ar- 
+έθανε τρόπῳ τοιούτῳ, ὡς μὲν οἱ πολλοὶ λέγουσι 
+᾿Ελλήνων, ὅτι τὴν Πυθίην ἀνέγνωσε τὰ περὶ 
+Δημαρήτου λέγειν γενόμενα, ὡς δὲ ᾿Αθηναῖοι 
+μοῦνοι λέγουσι, διότι ἐς ᾿Ελευσῖνα ἐσβαλὼν 
+ο. τὸ τέμενος τῶν θεῶν, ὡς δὲ ᾿Αργεῖοι, ὅτι 
+
+ιροῦ αὐτῶν τοῦ "Άργου ᾿Αργείων τοὺς Kata- 
+φυγόντας ἐκ τῆς μάχης καταγινέων κατέκοπτε 
+καὶ αὐτὸ τὸ ἄλσος ἐν ἀλογίῃ ἔχων ἐνέπρησε. 
+
+76. Κλεομένεϊ γὰρ. μαντευομένῳ ἐν Δελφοῖσι 
+ἐχρήσθη᾽ Αργος αἱρήσειν" ἐπείτε δὲ Σπαρτιήτας 
+ἄγων ἀπίκετο ἐπὶ ποταμὸν ᾿Ερασῖνον, ὃ ὃς λέγεται 
+ῥέειν ἐκ τῆς Στυμφαλίδος λίμνης" τὴν γὰρ. δὴ 
+λίμνην ταύτην ἐς χάσμα ἀφανὲς ἐκδιδοῦσαν ἆνα- 
+φαίνεσθαι ἐν "Apyei, τὸ ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ τὸ ὕδωρ ἤδη 
+
+
+1 Cp. ch. 80. 
+* The Stymphalian lake, near the base of Cyllene, dis- 
+
+
+224 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 75-76 
+
+
+not wholly in his right mind, and now he fell sick of 
+a madness; for any Spartan that he met he would 
+smite in the face with his staff. For so doing, and 
+for the frenzy that was on him, his nearest of kin 
+made him fast in the stocks. But hesaw in his bonds 
+that his guard was left alone and none by, and he 
+asked him for a dagger; the guard at first would not 
+give it, but Cleomenes threatening what he would 
+do to him thereafter, the guard, who was a helot, 
+was affrighted by the threats and gave him the 
+dagger. Then Cleomenes took the weapon and set 
+about gashing himself from his shins upwards ; from 
+the shin to the thigh he cut his flesh lengthways, 
+and from the thigh to the hip and the flank, till he 
+reached the belly, and cut it into strips; thus he 
+died, as the most of the Greeks say, because 
+he over-persuaded the Pythian priestess to tell 
+the tale of Demaratus; as the Athenians say (but 
+none other) because he invaded Eleusis and laid 
+waste the precinct of the gods; and as the Argives 
+` say, because when Argives had taken refuge after 
+the battle in their temple of Argus! he brought them 
+out thence and cut them down, and held the sacred 
+grove itself in no regard but burnt it. 
+
+16. For when Cleomenes was seeking a divination 
+at Delphi, an oracle was given him that he should 
+take Argos. When he came with Spartans to the 
+' river Erasinus, which is said to flow from the Stym- 
+phalian? lake (for this lake, they say, issues into a 
+cleft out of sight and reappears at Argos, and from 
+that place onwards the stream is called by the 
+charges itself into a cavern at the foot of a cliff; the river 
+
+
+which reappears near Argos (the Erasinus) has been generally 
+identified with this stream. 
+
+
+225 
+VOL. III. Q 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τοῦτο ὑπ ᾿Αργείων Ἐρασῖνον. καλέεσθαι" ἀπικό- 
+μενος ὃ ὧν o Κλεομένης ἐ ἐπὶ τὸν ποταμὸν τοῦτον 
+ολ αὐτῷ' καὶ οὐ γὰρ ἐκαλλιέρεε οὐδαμῶς 
+διαβαίνειν μιν, ἄγασθαι μὲν ἔφη τοῦ ᾿Ερασίνου 
+οὐ προδιδόντος τοὺς πολιήτας, ᾿Αργείους μέντοι 
+οὐδ᾽ ὣς χαιρήσειν. μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα ἐξαναχωρήσας 
+τὴν στρατιὴν κατήγαγε ἐς Θυρέην, σφαγιασάμενος 
+δὲ τῇ θαλάσσῃ ταῦρον πλοίοισι σφέας ἤγαγε ἔς τε 
+τὴν Τιρυνθίην χώρην καὶ Ναυπλίην. 
+
+7T. ᾿Αργεῖοι δὲ ἐβοήθεον πυνθανόμενοι ταῦτα 
+ἐπὶ θάλασσαν' ὡς δὲ ἀγχοῦ μὲν ἐγίνοντο τῆς 
+Τίρυνθος, χώρῳ δὲ ἐν τούτῳ τῷ κέεται Ἡσίπεια 
+οὔνομα, μεταίχμιον οὐ μέγα ἀπολιπόντες ἵζοντο 
+ἀντίοι τοῖσι Λακεδαιμονίοισι. ἐνθαῦτα δὴ οἱ 
+᾿Αργεῖοι τὴν μὲν ἐκ τοῦ φανεροῦ μάχην οὐκ 
+ἐφοβέοντο, ἀλλὰ μὴ δόλῳ αἱρεθέωσι' καὶ γὰρ δή 
+σφι ἐς τοῦτο τὸ πρῆγμα εἶχε τὸ χρηστήριον τὸ 
+ἐπέκοινα ἔχρησε ἡ Πυθίη τούτοισί τε καὶ Μιλη- 
+σίοισι, λέγον ὧδε. 
+
+
+ἀλλ᾽ ὅταν ἡ θήλεια τὸν ἄρσενα νικήσασα 
+
+ἐξελάσῃ καὶ κῦδος ἐν ᾿Αργείοισιν ἄρηται, 
+
+πολλὰς ᾿Αργείων ἀμφιδρυφέας τότε θήσει. 
+
+ὡς ποτέ τις ἐρέει καὶ ἐπεσσομένων ἀνθρώπων 
+
+s ud ὄφις τριέλικτος ! ἀπώλετο δουρὶ capa- 
+σθείς. 
+
+
+ταῦτα δὴ πάντα συνελθόντα τοῖσι ᾿Αργείοισι 
+φόβον παρεῖχε. καὶ δή σφι πρὸς ταῦτα ἔδοξε 
+
+1 Stein, following the best MSS., reads ἀέλικτος; but the 
+words appear to be otherwise unknown ; I prefer τριέλικτος, 
+for which there is some MS. authority. 
+
+
+226 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 56-7; 
+
+
+Argives Erasinus),—when Cleomenes came to this 
+river he sacrificed victims to it; and being in nowise 
+able to get favourable omens for his crossing, he 
+said that he honoured the Erasinus for keeping true 
+to its countrymen, but that even so the Argives 
+should not go unscathed. Presently he withdrew 
+thence and led his army seaward to Thyrea, where 
+he sacrificed a bull to the sea and carried his men on 
+shipboard to the region of Tiryns, and Nauplia. 
+
+77. Hearing of this, the Argives came to the 
+coast to do battle with him; and when they had 
+come near Tiryns and were at the place called 
+Hesipaea, they encamped over against the Lacedae- 
+monians, leaving but a little space between the 
+armies. There the Argives had no fear of fair 
+fighting, but rather of being worsted by guile; for 
+it was that which was signified by the oracle which 
+the Pythian priestess gave to the Argives and 
+Milesians in common, which ran thus: 
+
+
+Woe for the day when a woman shall vanquish a 
+man in the battle,! 
+Driving him far from the field and winning her 
+glory in Argos: 
+Many an Argive dame her cheeks shall be rending 
+in sorrow. 
+Yea, and in distant days this word shall be spoken 
+of mortals : 
+. © There lay slain by the spear that thrice-twined 
+terrible serpent." 
+
+
+All these things meeting together — fear among 
+the Argives. Therefore they resolved to defend 
+
+
+1 This would be fulfilled by a victory of the female Σπάρτη 
+over the male "Αργος. 
+227 
+ϱ 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+TÓ κήρυκι τῶν πολεμίων χρᾶσθαι, δόξαν δέ σφι 
+ἐποίεον τοιόνδε' ὅκως ὁ Σπαρτιήτης κῆρυξ προση- 
+μαίνοι τι Λακεδαιμονίοισι, ἐποίευν καὶ οἱ ᾿Αργεῖοι 
+τὠυτὸ τοῦτο. 
+
+78. Μαθὼν δὲ ὁ Κλεομένης ποιεῦντας τοὺς 
+᾿Αργείους ὁκοῖόν τι ὁ σφέτερος κῆρυξ σημήνειε, 
+παραγγέλλει σφι, ὅταν σημήνῃ ὁ κῆρυξ ποιέεσθαι 
+ἄριστον, τότε ἀναλαβόντας τὰ ὅπλα χωρέειν és 
+TOUS ᾿Αργείους. ταῦτα καὶ ἐγένετο ἐπιτελέα ἐκ τῶν 
+Λακεδαιμονίων: ἄριστον γὰρ ποιευμένοισι τοῖσι 
+᾿Αργείοισι ἐκ τοῦ κηρύγματος ἐπεκέατο, καὶ 
+πολλοὺς μὲν ἐφόνευσαν. αὐτῶν, πολλῷ δέ τι 
+πλεῦνας ἐς τὸ ἄλσος τοῦ "Αργου καταφυγόντας 
+περιιζόµενοι ἐφύλασσον. 
+
+19. ᾿Ενθεῦτεν δὲ ὁ Κλεομένης ἐποίεε τοιόνδε. 
+ἔχων αὐτομόλους. ἄνδρας καὶ πυνθανόμενος τού- 
+των, ἐξεκάλεε πέμπων κήρυκα ὀνομαστὶ λέγων 
+τῶν ᾿Αργείων τοὺς ἐν τῷ ἱρῷ ἀπεργμένους, ἐξεκά- 
+Mee δὲ φὰς αὐτῶν ἔχειν τᾶ ἄποινα. ἄποινα δὲ 
+ἐστὶ Πελοποννησίοισι δύο μνέαι τεταγμέναι κατ 
+ἄνδρα. αἱ μάλωτον € ἐκτίνειν. κατὰ πεντήκοντα δὴ 
+ὧν τῶν Αργείων ὡς ἑκάστους ἐκκαλεύμενος ὁ 
+Κλεομένης ἔκτεινε. ταῦτα δέ κως γινόμενα έλε- 
+λήθεε τοὺς λοιποὺς τοὺς ἐν τῷ. τεμένεϊ. ἅτε γὰρ 
+πυκνοῦ ἐόντος τοῦ ἄλσεος, οὐκ ὥρων οἱ ἐντὸς τοὺς 
+ἐκτὸς ὅ τι ἔπρησσον, πρίν γε δὴ αὐτῶν. τις ἀναβὰς 
+ἐπὶ δένδρον κατεῖδε τὸ ποιεύμενον. οὔκων δὴ ἔτι 
+καλεόμενοι ἐξήισαν. 
+
+80. ᾿Ενθαῦτα δὴ ὁ Κλεομένης ἐκέλευε πάντα 
+τινὰ τῶν εἱλωτέων περινέειν ὕλη τὸ ἄλσος, τῶν 
+δὲ πειθομένων ἐνέπρησε τὸ ἄλσος. καιομένου δὲ 
+
+
+228 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 77-8o 
+
+
+themselves by making the enemies’ herald serve 
+them, and, being so resolved, whenever the Spartan 
+herald cried any command to the Lacedaemonians 
+they, too, did the very thing that he bade. 
+
+78. When Cleomenes saw that the Argives did 
+whatever was bidden by his herald, he gave command 
+that when the herald cried the signal for the men 
+to breakfast, they should then put on their armour 
+and attack the Argives. The Lacedaemonians per- 
+formed this bidding: for when they assaulted the 
+Argives they caught them breakfasting in obedience 
+to the herald’s signal; many of them they slew, and 
+more by far of the Argives fled for refuge into the 
+grove of Argus, where the Lacedaemonians en- 
+camped round and closely watched them. 
+
+79. Then Cleomenes’ plan was this: he had with 
+him certain deserters, from whom he made due 
+enquiry, and then sent a herald calling the names of 
+the Argives that were shut up in the sacred precinct 
+and inviting them to come out; saying therewith, 
+that he had their ransom. Now among the Pelo- 
+ponnesians there is a fixed ransom to be paid for 
+every prisoner, two minae for each. So Cleomenes 
+invited about fifty Argives to come out, one after 
+another, and slew them. It happened that this slay- 
+ing was unknown to the rest that were in the temple 
+precinct; for the grove being thick, they that were 
+within could not see how it fared with them that 
+were without, till one of them climbed a tree and 
+saw what was being done. Thereafter they would 
+not come out at the herald’s call. 
+
+.. 80. On that Cleomenes bade all the helots pile 
+wood about the grove; they obeyed, and he burnt 
+the grove. When the fire was now burning, he 
+
+
+229 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+no 9 / ^ ? / / ” - 
+ἤδη ἐπείρετο τῶν τινα αὐτομόλων τίνος εἴη θεῶν 
+τὸ ἄλσος" ὃ δὲ ἔφη "Αργου εἶναι. ὃ δὲ ὡς ἤκουσε, 
+ἀναστενάξας μέγα elme“ O Απολλον χρηστήριε, 
+ἡ μεγάλως µε ἠπάτηκας φάμενος "Αργος αἱρήσειν' 
+συμβάλλομαι È ἐξήκειν μοι τὸ χρηστήριον." 
+
+δΙ. Μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα ὁ Κλεομένης τὴν μὲν πλέω 
+στρατιὴν ἀπῆκε ἀπιέναι ἐς Σπάρτην, χιλίους δὲ 
+αὐτὸς λαβὼν τοὺς ἀριστέας ἤιε ἐς τὸ "Hpatov 
+θύσων" βουλόμενον δὲ αὐτὸν θύειν ἐπὶ τοῦ βωμοῦ 
+0 ὑἱρεὺς ἀπηγόρευε, φὰς οὐκ ὅσιον εἶναι ξείνῳ 
+αὐτόθι θύειν. ὁ δὲ Κλεομένης τὸν ἱρέα ἐκέλευε 
+τοὺς εἴλωτας ἀπὸ τοῦ βωμοῦ ἀπάγοντας µαστι- 
+γῶσαι, καὶ αὐτὸς ἔθυσε' ποιήσας δὲ ταῦτα ἀπήιε 
+ἐς τὴν Σπάρτην. 
+
+82. Νοστήσαντα δέ μιν ὑπῆγον οἱ ἐχθροὶ ὑπὸ 
+τοὺς ἐ όρου», φάμενοί μιν δωροδοκήσαντα οὐκ 
+ἑλεῖν τὸ "Αργος, παρεὸν εὐπετέως μιν ἑλεῖν. ὃ δέ 
+σφι ἔλεξε, οὔτε εἰ Ψ ευδόµενος οὔτε εἰ ἀληθέα 
+λέγων, ἔχω σαφηνέως εἶπαι, ἔλεξε δ᾽ ὧν φάμενος, 
+ἐπείτε δὴ τὸ τοῦ Αργου ἱρὸν εἶλον, δοκέειν οἱ 
+ἐξεληλυθέναι τὸν τοῦ θεοῦ χρησμόν πρὸς ὧν 
+ταῦτα οὗ δικαιοῦν πειρᾶν τῆς πόλιος, πρίν γε δὴ 
+ἱροῖσι χρήσηται καὶ μάθη εἴτε οἱ ὁ θεὸς παραδιδοῖ 
+εἴτε ἐμποδὼν ἕστηκε καλλιερευμένῳ δὲ ἐν τῷ 
+Ἡραίῳ ἐκ τοῦ ἀγάλματος τῶν στηθέων φλόγα 
+πυρὸς ἐκλάμψαι, μαθεῖν δὲ αὐτὸς οὕτω τὴν ἀτρε- 
+κείην, ὅτι οὐκ αἱρέει τὸ Άργος. εἰ μὲν γὰρ ἐκ 
+τῆς κεφαλῆς τοῦ ἀγάλματος ἐξέλαμψε, αἱρέειν ἂν 
+κατ ἄκρης τὴν πόλιν, ἐκ τῶν στηθέων δὲ Aap- 
+
+
+1 About four miles N.E. of Argos. 
+230 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 80-82 
+
+
+asked of one of the deserters, to what god the grove 
+was sacred ; **to Argus,” said the man; when he heard 
+that he cried loudly and lamentably : ** Apollo, thou 
+god of oracles, sorely hast thou deceived me with thy 
+word that I should take Argos; this, I guess, is the 
+fulfilment of that prophecy." 
+
+81. Presently Cleomenes sent the more part of his 
+army back to Sparta; he himself took with him a 
+thousand that were his best warriors, and went to 
+the temple of Here,! there to sacrifice. But when he 
+would have sacrificed on the altar the priest forbade 
+him, saying that no stranger might lawfully sacrifice 
+there. Thereupon Cleomenes bade the helots bring 
+the priest away from the altar and scourge him, and 
+he himself offered sacrifice ; which done, he returned 
+to Sparta. 
+
+82. But after his returning his enemies brought 
+him before the ephors, saying that it was for a bribe 
+that he had not taken Argos, when he might have 
+taken it easily. But Cleomenes alleged (whether 
+falsely or truly, I cannot rightly say; but this he 
+alleged in his speech) that he had supposed the 
+god's oracle to be fulfilled by his taking of the temple 
+of Argus; wherefore, he had thought it best not to 
+make any assay on the city before he should have 
+enquired by sacrifice and learnt whether the god 
+would deliver it to him or withstand him; and while 
+he took omens in Here's temple a flame of fire had 
+shone forth from the breast of the image, whereby 
+he had learnt the truth of the matter, that Argos 
+was not for his taking. For (said he) had the flame 
+come out of the head of the image, he would have 
+taken the city from head to foot utterly; but its 
+coming from the breast signified that he had done as 
+
+
+231 
+
+
+á HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ψαντος πᾶν οἱ πεποιῆσθαι ὅσον ὁ θεὸς ἐβούλετο 
+γενέσθαι. ταῦτα λέγων πιστά τε καὶ οἰκότα 
+ἐδόκεε Σπαρτιήτῃσι λέγειν, καὶ διέφυγε πολλὸν 
+τοὺς διώκοντας. 
+
+89. "Αργος δὲ ἀνδρῶν ἐχηρώθη οὕτω ὥστε οἱ 
+δοῦλοι αὐτῶν ἔσχον πάντα τὰ πρήγματα ἄρχοντές 
+τε καὶ διέποντες, ἐς ὃ ἐπήβησαν οἱ τῶν ἀπολο- 
+μένων παῖδες" ἔπειτα σφέας οὗτοι ἀνακτώμενοι 
+ὀπίσω ἐς ἑωυτοὺς τὸ "Αργος ἐξέβαλον' ἐξωθεύ- 
+μενοι δὲ οἱ δοῦλοι μάχῃ ἔσχον Τίρυνθα. τέως μὲν 
+δή σφι ἡ ἦν ἄρθμια € ἐς ἀλλήλους, ἔπειτα δὲ ἐς τοὺς 
+δούλους ἦλθε ἀνὴρ μάντις Κλέανδρος, γένος ἐὼν 
+Φιγαλεὺς ἀπ᾽ ᾿Αρκαδίης" οὗτος τοὺς δούλους adv- 
+έγνωσε ἐπιθέσθαι τοῖσι δεσπότῃσι. ἐκ τούτου δὴ 
+πόλεμός σφι ἦν ἐπὶ χρόνον συχνόν, ἐς ὃ δὴ μόγις 
+οἱ ᾿Αργεῖοι ἐπεκράτησαν. 
+
+84. ᾿Αργεῖοι μέν νυν διὰ ταῦτα ο φασὶ 
+μανέντα ἀπολέσθαι κακῶς: αὐτοὶ δὲ X Σπαρτιῆται 
+φασὶ ἐκ δαιμονίου μὲν οὐδενὸς μανῆναι Κλεομένεα, 
+Σκύθῃσι δὲ ὁμιλήσαντά μιν ἀκρητοπότην γενέσθαι 
+καὶ ἐκ τούτου μανῆναι. Σκύθας γὰρ τοὺς νομάδας, 
+ἐπείτε σφι Δαρεῖον ἐμβαλεῖν ἐς τὴν χώρην, μετὰ 
+ταῦτα μεμονέναι μιν τίσασθαι, πέμψαντας δὲ ἐς 
+Σπάρτην συμμαχίην τε ποιέεσθαι καὶ συντίθεσθαι 
+ὡς χρεὸν εἴη αὐτοὺς μὲν τοὺς Σκύθας παρὰ Φᾶσιν 
+ποταμὸν πειρᾶν ἐς τὴν Μηδικὴν ἐσβάλλειν, σφέας 
+δὲ τοὺς Σπαρτιήτας κελεύειν ἐξ ᾿Εφέσου ὁρμωμέ- 
+νους ἀναβαίνειν καὶ ἔπειτα ἐς τὠυτὸ ἀπαντᾶν. 
+Κλεομένεα δὲ λέγουσι ἡκόντων τῶν Σκυθέων ἐπὶ 
+ταῦτα ὁμιλέειν σφι μεζόνως, ὁμιλέοντα δὲ μᾶλλον 
+τοῦ ἱκνεομένου μαθεῖν τὴν ἀκρητοποσίην παρ᾽ 
+
+
+232 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 82-84 
+
+
+much as it was the god's will should happen. This 
+plea of his seemed to the Spartans to be credible 
+and reasonable, and he far outdistanced the pursuit 
+of his accusers. | 
+. 83. But Argos was so wholly widowed of her men, 
+that their slaves took all in possession, and ruled and 
+governed, till the sons of them that were slain came to 
+man's estate. Then these recovered Argos for them- 
+selves and cast out the slaves, who, being thrust out, 
+took possession of Tiryns by force. For a while they 
+were at peace with each other; but presently there 
+came to the slaves one Cleander, a prophet, a man 
+of Phigalea in Arcadia by birth; he persuaded the 
+slaves to attack their masters. From this out for a 
+long time there was war between them, till at last 
+with much ado the Argives got the upper hand.! 
+
+84. This was the reason (say the Argives) of 
+Cleomenes’ madness and his evil end; but the 
+Spartans themselves say, that heaven had no hand in 
+Cleomenes' madness, but by consorting with Scythians 
+he became a drinker of strong wine, and thence the 
+madness came. For (so they say) the nomad 
+. Seythians, after Darius had invaded their land, were 
+fain to be revenged upon him, and made an alliance 
+with Sparta by messengers sent thither; whereby it 
+was agreed, that the Scythians themselves should 
+essay to invade Media by way of the river Phasis, 
+while the Spartans by their counsel should set out 
+and march inland from Ephesus, and meet the 
+Scythians. When the Scythians had come with this 
+intent, Cleomenes, it is said, kept too close company 
+with them, and by consorting with them out of 
+measure learnt from them to drink strong wine ; and 
+
+
+1 About 468, apparently. 
+230 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+αὐτῶν: ἐκ τούτου δὲ μανῆναί μιν νομίξουσι 
+Σπαρτιῆται. ἔκ τε τόσου, ὡς αὐτοὶ λέγουσι, 
+ἐπεὰν ζωρότερον βούλωνται πιεῖν, “ ᾿Ἐπισκύθι- 
+σον λέγουσι. οὕτω δὴ Σπαρτιῆται τὰ περὶ 
+Κλεομένεα λέγουσι" ἐμοὶ δὲ δοκέει τίσιν ταύτην 
+ὁ Κλεομένης Δημαρήτῳ ἐκτῖσαι. 
+
+85. Τελευτήσαντος δὲ Κλεομένεος ὡς ἐπύθοντο 
+Αἰγινῆται, ἔπεμπον ἐς Σπάρτην ἀγγέλους κατα- 
+βωσομένους Λευτυχίδεω περὶ τῶν ἐν ᾿Αθήνῃσι 
+ὁμήρων ἐχομένων. Λακεδαιμόνιοι δὲ δικαστήριον 
+συναγαγόντες ἔγνωσαν περιυβρίσθαι Αἰγινήτας 
+ὑπὸ Λευτυχίδεω, καί μιν κατέκριναν ἔκδοτον 
+ἄγεσθαι ἐς Αἴγιναν ἀντὶ τῶν ἐν ᾿Αθήνῃσι ἐχομέ- 
+νων ἀνδρῶν. μελλόντων δὲ ἄγειν τῶν Αἰγινητέων 
+τὸν Λευτυχίδεα, εἶπέ σφι Θεασίδης ὁ ὁ Λεωπρέπεος, 
+ἐὼν ἐν Σπάρτῃ δόκιμος ἀνήρ, “H βουλεύεσθε 
+ποιέειν, ἄνδρες Αἰγινῆται; τὸν Βασιλέα τῶν 
+Σπαρτιητέων ἔκδοτον γενόμενον ὑπὸ τῶν πολιη- 
+τέων ἄγειν; εἰ νῦν ὀργῆ χρεώμενοι ἔγνωσαν οὕτω 
+Σπαρτιῆται, ὅκως ἐξ ὑστέρης μή τι ὑμῖν, nv 
+ταῦτα πρήσσητε, πανώλεθρον | κακὸν ἐς τὴν 
+χώρην ἐμβάλωσι." ταῦτα ἀκούσαντες οἱ Αἰγι- 
+νῆται ἔσχοντο τῆς -ἀγωγῆς, ὁμολογίῃ. δὲ ἐχρή- 
+σαντο τοιῇδε, ἐπισπόμενον Λευτυχίδεα ἐ ἐς ᾿Αθήνας 
+ἀποδοῦναι Αἰγινήτῃσι τοὺς ἄνδρας. 
+
+86. Ὡς δὲ ἀπικόμενος Λευτυχίδης ἐς τὰς ᾿Αθή- 
+νας ἀπαίτεε τὴν παραθήκην, οἱ ὃ ᾿Αθηναῖοι προ- 
+ο εἷλκον οὐ βουλόμενοι ἀποδοῦναι, φάντες 
+
+ύο σφέας ἐόντας βασιλέας παραθέσθαι καὶ οὐ 
+δικαιοῦν τῷ ἑτέρῳ ἄνευ τοῦ ἑτέρου ἀποδιδόναι" 
+οὐ φαμένων δὲ ἀποδώσειν τῶν ᾿Αθηναίων, ἔλεξέ 
+
+
+234 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 84-86 
+
+
+this the Spartans hold to have been the cause of his 
+madness. Ever since, as they themselves say, when 
+they desire a strong draught they will call for 
+*a Scythian cup." Such is the Spartan story of 
+Cleomenes; but to my thinking, it was for what he 
+did to Demaratus that he was punished thus. 
+
+85. When Cleomenes was dead, and the Aeginetans 
+heard of it, they sent messengers to Sparta to cry for 
+justice on Leutychides, for the matter of the hostages 
+that were held at Athens. The Lacedaemonians 
+then assembled a court and gave judgment that 
+Leutychides had done violence to the Aeginetans ; 
+and they condemned him to be given up and carried 
+to Aegina, in requital for the men that were held at 
+Athens. But when the Aeginetans were about to 
+carry Leutychides away, a man of repute at Sparta, 
+Theasides, son of Leoprepes, said to them, * Men of 
+Aegina, what is this that you purpose to do? Would 
+you have the king of the Spartans given up to you 
+by the citizens and carry him away? Nay, if the 
+Spartans have now so judged in their anger, look to 
+it lest at a later day, if you do as you purpose, they 
+bring utter destruction upon your country." Hearing 
+this, the Aeginetans stayed their hand from carrying 
+the king away, and made an agreement that Leuty- 
+chides should go with them to Athens and restore 
+the men to the Aeginetans. 
+
+86. So when Leutychides came to Athens and 
+demanded that what had been entrusted be restored, 
+and the Athenians, being loath to restore it, made 
+excuses, and said that, having been charged with the 
+trust by both the kings, they deemed it wrong to 
+restore it to the one alone without the other, —when 
+the Athenians refused to restore, Leutychides said to 
+
+
+235 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+σφι Λευτυχίδης τάδε. ut ᾿Αθηναῖοι, ποιέετε 
+μὲν ὁκότερα Βούλεσθε αὐτοί: καὶ γὰρ ἀποδιδόντες 
+ποιέετε ὅσια, καὶ μὴ ἀποδιδόντες τὰ ἐναντία τού- 
+TOV' ὁκοῖον μέντοι τι ἐν τῇ Σπάρτῃ συνηνείχθη 
+γενέσθαι περὶ παρακαταθήκης, Βούλομαι ὑμῖν 
+εἶπαι. λέγομεν ἡμεῖς οἱ Σπαρτιῆται γενέσθαι 
+ἐν τῇ Λακεδαίμονι κατὰ τρίτην γενεὴν τὴν ἀπ᾽ 
+ἐμέο Γλαῦκον Ἐπικύδεος παῖδα' τοῦτον τὸν ἄνδρα 
+φαμὲν τά τε ἆλλα πάντα περιήκειν τὰ πρῶτα, 
+καὶ δὴ καὶ ἀκούειν ἄριστα δικαιοσύνης πέρι 
+πάντων ὅσοι τὴν Λακεδαίμονα τοῦτον τὸν χρό- 
+νον οἴκεον. συνενειχθῆναι δέ οἱ ἐν χρόνῳ i ἔκνευ- 
+μένῳ τάδε λέγομεν. ἄνδρα Μιλήσιον ἆ ἀπικόμενον 
+ἐς Σπάρτην βούλεσθαί οἱ ἐλθεῖν ἐς λόγους προ- 
+ἴσχόμενον τοιάδε. ' Εἰμὶ μὲν Μιλήσιος, ἥκω δὲ τῆς 
+σῆς Γλαῦκε βουλόμενος δικαιοσύνης ἀπολαῦσαι. 
+ὡς γὰρ δὴ ἀνὰ πᾶσαν μὲν τὴν ἆλλην Ἑλλάδα, ἐν 
+δὲ καὶ περὶ Ἰωνίην τῆς σῆς δικαιοσύνης ἦν λόγος 
+πολλός, ἐμεωυτῷ λόγους ἐδίδουν καὶ ὅτι ἐπικίνδυνος 
+ἐστὶ αἰεί κοτε ἡ ᾿Ιωνίη, ἡ δὲ -Πελοπόννησος dopa- 
+λέως ἱδρυμένη, καὶ διότι χρήματα οὐδαμὰ τοὺς aù- 
+τούς ἐστι ὁρᾶν ἔχοντας. ταῦτά τε ὧν ἐπιλεγομένῳ 
+καὶ Βουλευομένῳ ἔδοξέ μοι τὰ ἡμίσεα πάσης τῆς 
+οὐσίης ἐξαργυρώσαντα θέσθαι παρὰ σέ, εὖ έξεπι- 
+σταμένῳ ὥς μοι. κείμενα ἔσται παρὰ σοὶ σόα. σὺ δή 
+μοι καὶ τὰ χρήματα δέξαι καὶ τάδε τὰ σύμβολα 
+σῶξε λαβών" ὃς ὃ ἃ ἂν ἔχων ταῦτα ἀπαιτέῃ, τούτῳ 
+ἀποδοῦναι. ὁ μὲν δὴ ἀπὸ Μιλήτου ἥκων ξεῖνος 
+τοσαῦτα ἔλεξε, Γλαῦκος δὲ ἐδέξατο τὴν παρακα- 
+ταθήκην ἐπὶ τῷ εἰρημένῳ λόγῳ. χρόνου δὲ πολ- 
+λοῦ διελθόντος ἦλθον ἐς Σπάρτην τούτου τοῦ 
+παραθεμένου τὰ χρήματα οἱ παῖδες, ἐλθόντες δὲ 
+236 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 86 
+
+
+them: * Men of Athens, do whichever thing you 
+desire; if you restore, you do righteously, if you 
+restore not you do contrariwise; yet hear from me 
+the story of what befel at Sparta in the matter of a 
+trust. It is told by us Spartans that three genera- 
+tions agone there was at Lacedaemon one Glaucus, 
+son of Epicydes. This man (so the story goes) added 
+to his other excellences a reputation for justice above 
+all men who at that time dwelt in Lacedaemon. 
+But in the fitting time this, as it is told, befel 
+him :—There came to Sparta a certain man of 
+Miletus, desiring to hold converse with Glaucus, and 
+making him this proffer: ‘Iam,’ he said, ‘of Miletus, 
+and hither am I come, Glaucus! to reap advantage 
+from your justice. For seeing that all about Hellas 
+and Ionia too there was much talk of your justice, I 
+bethought me in myself that Ionia is ever a land of 
+dangers and Peloponnesus securely stablished, and 
+in Ionia nowhere are the same men seen continuing 
+in possession of wealth. Considering and taking 
+counsel concerning these matters, I resolved to turn 
+the half of my substance into silver and give it into 
+your charge, being well assured that it will lie safe 
+for me in your keeping. Do you then receive the 
+sum, and take and keep these tokens; and restore 
+the money to him that comes with the like tokens 
+and demands it back.’ Thus spoke the stranger 
+who had come from Miletus, and Glaucus received 
+the trust according to the agreement. When a long 
+time had passed, there came to Sparta the sons of 
+the man who had given the money in trust; they 
+
+
+23] 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐς λόγους τῷ Γλαύκῳ καὶ ἀποδεικνύντες τὰ σύμ- 
+βολα ἀπαίτεον τὰ χρήματα" ὃ δὲ διωθέετο ἆ ἀντυπο- 
+κρινόμενος τοιάδε. «Οὔτε μέμνημαι τὸ πρῆγμα 
+οὔτε µε περιφέρει οὐδὲν εἰδέναι τούτων τῶν ὑμεῖς 
+λέγετε, βούλομαί τε ἀναμνησθεὶς ποιέειν πᾶν τὸ 
+δίκαιον" καὶ γὰρ εἰ ἔλαβον, ὀρθῶς ἀποδοῦναι, καὶ 
+εἴ ye ἀρχὴν μὴ ἔλαβον, νόμοισι τοῖσι Ελλήνων 
+χρήσομαι ἐς ὑμέας. ταῦτα ὧν ὑμίν ἀναβάλλομαι 
+κυρώσειν͵ ἐς τέταρτον μῆνα ἀπὸ τοῦδε. οἱ μὲν 
+δῆ Μιλήσιοι συμφορὴν ποιησάμενοι ἀπαλλάσ- 
+σοντο ὡς ἀπεστερημένοι τῶν χρημάτων, Γλαῦκος 
+δὲ ἐ ἐπορεύετο ἐς Δελφοὺς χρησόμενος τῷ χρηστη- 
+pip. ἐπειρωτῶντα δὲ αὐτὸν τὸ χρηστήριον ei 
+ὅρκῳ τὰ χρήματα ληίσηται, ἡ Πυθίη μετέρχεται 
+τοῖσιδε τοῖσι ἔπεσι. 
+
+
+Γλαῦκ᾽ ᾿Επικυδείδη, τὸ μὲν αὐτίκα κέρδιον 
+οὕτω 
+
+ὅρκῳ νικῆσαι καὶ χρήματα ληίσσασθαι. 
+
+ὄμνυ, ἐπεὶ θάνατός γε καὶ εὔορκον μένει ἄνδρα. 
+
+ἀλλ, ὅρκου πάις ἐστίν, ἀνώνυμος, οὐδ᾽ ἔπι 
+χεῖρες 
+
+οὐδὲ modes’ κραιπνὸς δὲ μετέρχεται, εἰς ὅ κε 
+πᾶσαν 
+
+συμμάρψας ὀλέσῃ γενεὴν καὶ οἶκον ἅπαντα. 
+
+ἀνδρὸς δ᾽ εὐόρκου γενεὴ μετόπισθεν ἀμείνων. 
+
+
+ταῦτα ἀκούσας ὁ Γλαῦκος συγγνώμην τὸν θεὸν 
+παραιτέετο αὐτῷ ἴσχειν τῶν ῥηθέντων. ἡ δὲ 
+Πυθίη ἔφη τὸ πειρηθῆναι τοῦ θεοῦ καὶ τὸ ποιῆσαι 
+ἴσον δύνασθαι. Γλαῦκος μὲν δὴ µεταπεμψά- 
+
+
+238 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 86 
+
+
+spoke with Glaucus, showing him the tokens and 
+demanding the money back. But Glaucus put them 
+off with a demurrer: ‘I have no remembrance, he 
+said, ‘of the matter, nor am I moved to any know- 
+ledge of that whereof you speak; let me bring it to 
+mind, and I will do all that is just; if I took the 
+money I will duly restore it, and if I never took it at 
+all I will deal with you according to the customs of 
+the Greeks. Suffer me, therefore, to delay making 
+my words good till the fourth month from this day.’ 
+So the Milesians went away in sorrow, as men 
+robbed of their possessions; but Glaucus journeyed 
+to Delphi, to enquire of the oracle. When he asked 
+the oracle whether he should swear and so ravish the 
+money, the Pythian priestess threatened him in these 
+verses : 
+Hear, Epicydes’ son: ’twere much to thy present 
+advantage 
+Couldst thou prevail by an oath and ravish the 
+stranger's possessions : 
+Swear an thou wilt; death waits for the just no 
+` less than the unjust. 
+Ay—but an oath hath a son, a nameless avenger 
+of evil: 
+Hands hath he none, nor feet; yet swiftly he 
+runneth pursuing, 
+Grippeth his man at the last and maketh an end 
+of his offspring. 
+Better endureth the line of the man that sweareth 
+not falsely. 
+When Glaucus heard that, he entreated the god to 
+pardon him for what he had said. But the priestess 
+answered, that to tempt the god and to do the deed 
+were of like effect. Glaucus, then, sent for the 
+
+
+239 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μενος τοὺς Μιλησίους ξείνους ἀποδιδοῖ σφι τὰ 
+χρήματα. τοῦ δὲ εἵνεκα ὁ λόγος, ὅδε ὦ ᾿Αθηναῖοι 
+ὁρμήθη λέγεσθαι ἐς ὑμέας, εἰρήσεται" Γλαύκου 
+νῦν οὔτε τι ἀπόγονον ἐστὶ οὐδὲν οὔτ᾽ ἱστίη οὐδεμία 
+νομιξομένη εἶναι Γλαύκου, ἐκτέτριπταί τε πρόρ- 
+ριξος ἐ ἐκ Σπάρτης. οὕτω ἀγαθὸν μηδὲ διανοέεσθαι 
+περὶ παρακαταθήκης ἄλλο γε ἢ ἀπαιτεόντων 
+ἀποδιδόναι.” 
+
+87. Λευτυχίδης μὲν εἴπας ταῦτα, ὥς οἱ οὐδὲ 
+οὕτω ἐσήκουον οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι, ἀπαλλάσσετο' οἱ δὲ 
+Αἰγινῆται, πρὶν τῶν πρότερον ἀδικημάτων δοῦναι 
+δίκας τῶν ἐς ᾿Αθηναίους ὕβρισαν Θηθαίοισι 
+χαριξόμενοι, ἐ ἐποίησαν τοιόνδε. μεμφόμενοι τοῖσι 
+᾿Αθηναίοισι καὶ ἀξιοῦντες ἀδικέεσθαι, ὡς τιμω- 
+ρησόμενοι τοὺς ᾿Αθηναίους παρεσκευάζοντο" καὶ 
+ἦν yap δὴ τοῖσι ᾿Αθηναίοισι πεντετηρὶς ἐπὶ è Lourie, 
+λοχήσαντες ὧν .τὴν θεωρίδα νέα εἶλον πλήρεα 
+ἀνδρῶν τῶν πρώτων ᾿Αθηναίων, λαβόντες δὲ τοὺς 
+ἄνδρας ἔδησαν. 
+
+88. ᾿Αθηναῖοι δὲ παθόντες ταῦτα πρὸς Αἰγινη- 
+τέων οὐκέτι ἀνεβάλλοντο μὴ οὐ τὸ πᾶν μηχανή- 
+σασθαι ἐπ᾿ Αἰγινήτῃσι. καὶ ἦν γὰρ N ικόδροµος 
+Κνοίθου καλεόμενος ἐν τῇ Αἰγίνῃ ἀνὴρ δόκιμος, 
+οὗτος μεμφόμενος μὲν τοῖσι Αἰγινήτῃσι προτέρην 
+ἑωυτοῦ ἐξέλασιν ἐκ τῆς νήσου, μαθὼν δὲ τότε 
+τοὺς. ᾿Αθηναίους ἀναρτημένους ἔρδειν Αἰγινήτας 
+κακῶς, συντίθεται᾽ ᾿Αθηναίοισι προδοσίην Αἰγίνης, 
+φράσας ἐν τῇ τε ἡμέρη ἐπιχειρήσει καὶ ἐκείνους 
+ἐς τὴν ἥκειν δεήσει βοηθέοντας. 
+
+89. Μετὰ ταῦτα καταλαμβάνει μὲν κατὰ τὰ 
+συνεθήκατο Ἀθηναίοισι ὁ Νικόδρομος τὴν παλαιὴν 
+καλεομένην πόλιν, ᾿Αθηναῖοι δὲ οὐ παραγίνονται 
+240 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 86-89 
+
+
+Milesian strangers and restored them their money ; 
+but hear now, Athenians! why I began to tell you 
+this story. ‘There is at this day no descendant of 
+Glaucus, nor any household that bears Glaucus’ 
+name ; he and his have been utterly uprooted out of 
+Sparta. So good a thing it is not even to design 
+aught concerning a trust, save the restoring of it on 
+demand." 
+
+87. Thus spoke Leutychides; but even so the 
+Athenians would not listen to him, and he took his 
+departure. But the Aeginetans, before paying the 
+penalty for the high-handed wrong they had done 
+the Athenians to please the Thebans, did as I will 
+show. Having a grudge against Athens and deeming 
+themselves wronged, they prepared to take vengeance 
+on the Athenians. Among these there was now 
+a five-yearly festival toward on Sunium; wherefore 
+the Aeginetans set an ambush and took the ship that 
+bore deputies to the festival, with many noble 
+Athenians therein, and put in prison the men whom 
+they took. | 
+
+88. Thus mishandled by the Aeginetans, the 
+Athenians delayed no longer to devise all mischief 
+against Aegina. Now there was one Nicodromus, 
+son of Cnoethus by name, a notable man in Aegina. 
+He, having a grudge against the Aeginetans for his 
+former banishment from the island, and learning now 
+that the Athenians were set upon doing hurt to the 
+Aeginetans, agreed with the Athenians to betray 
+Aegina to them, naming the day whereon he would 
+essay it and whereon they must come to aid him. 
+
+89. Presently, according to his agreement with the 
+Athenians, Nicodromus took possession of the Old 
+City, as it was called; but the Athenians failed of 
+
+241 
+
+VOL. ΠΠ. R 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐς δέον' οὐ γὰρ ἔτυχον ἐοῦσαι νέες σφι ἀξιόμαχοι 
+τῇσι Αἰγινητέων συμβαλεῖν. ἐν ᾧ ὧν Κορινθίων 
+ἐδέοντο χρῆσαι σφίσι νέας, ἐν τούτῳ διεφθάρη τὰ 
+πρήγματα. οἱ δὲ Κορίνθιοι, ἦσαν yap σφι τοῦτον 
+τὸν χρόνον φίλοι ἐς τὰ μάλιστα, ᾿Αθηναίοισι 
+διδοῦσι δεομένοισι εἴκοσι νέας, διδοῦσι δὲ πεντα- 
+δράχµους ἀποδόμενοι: δωρεὴν γὰρ ἐν τῷ νόμῳ οὐκ 
+ἐξῆν δοῦναι. ταύτας τε δὴ λαβόντες οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι 
+καὶ τὴς σφετέρας, πληρώσαντες ἑβδομήκοντα 
+νέας τὰς ἁπάσας, ἔπλεον ἐπὶ τὴν Αἴγιναν καὶ 
+ὑστέρησαν ἡμέρῃ μιῇ τῆς συγκειμένης. 
+
+90. Νικόδρομος δέ, ὡς οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι ἐς τὸν 
+καιρὸν οὐ παρεγίνοντο, ἐς πλοῖον ἐσβὰς ἐκδιδρή- 
+σκει ἐκ τῆς Αἰγίνης: σὺν δέ οἱ καὶ ἄλλοι ἐκ τῶν 
+Αἰγινητέων εἵποντο, τοῖσι ᾿Αθηναῖοι Σούνιον 
+οἰκῆσαι ἔδοσαν. ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ οὗτοι ὁρμώμενοι 
+ἔφερόν τε καὶ ἦγον τοὺς ἐν τῇ νήσῳ Αἰγινήτας. 
+
+9]. Ταῦτα μὲν δὴ ὕστερον ἐγίνετο. Αἰγινητέων 
+δὲ οἱ παχέες ἐπαναστάντος τοῦ δήμου. σφι ἅμα 
+Νικοδρόμῳ ἐ ἐπεκράτησαν, καὶ ἔπειτα σφέας χειρω- 
+σάμενοι ἐξῆγον ἀπολέοντες. ἀπὸ τούτου δὲ καὶ 
+ἄγος σφι ἐγένετο, TO ἐκθύσασθαι ovK οἷοί τε 
+ἐγένοντο ἐπιμηχανώμενοι, ἀλλ᾽ ἔφθησαν EKTE- 
+σόντες πρότερον ἐκ τῆς νήσου ἤ σφι ἵλεον γενέσθαι 
+τὴν θεὀν. ἑπτακοσίους γὰρ δὴ τοῦ δήμου ξωγρή- 
+σαντες ἐξῆγον ὡς ἀπολέοντες, εἷς δέ τις τούτων 
+ἐκφυγὼν τὰ δεσμὰ καταφεύγει πρὸς πρόθυρα 
+Δήμητρος θεσµοφόρου, ἐπιλαμβανόμενος δὲ τῶν 
+ἐπισπαστήρων εἴχετο’ οἳ LI ἐπείτε µιν ἀποσπάσαι 
+οὐκ οἷοί τε ἀπέλκοντες ἐγίνοντο, ἀποκόψαντες 
+
+
+242 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 89-91 
+
+
+arriving at the right time; for it chanced that they 
+had not ships enough to cope with the Aeginetans ; 
+wherefore they entreated the Corinthians to lend 
+them ships, and by that delay their business was 
+thwarted. The Corinthians, being at that time their 
+close friends, consented to the Athenians' entreaty 
+and gave them twenty ships, at a price of five 
+drachmas apiece; for by their law they could not 
+make a free gift of them. Taking these ships and 
+their own, the Athenians manned seventy in all and 
+sailed for Aegina, whither they came a day later 
+than the time agreed. 
+
+90. But Nicodromus, the Athenians not being at 
+hand on the day appointed, took ship and escaped 
+from Aegina, he and other Aeginetans with him, to 
+whom the Athenians gave Sunium to dwell in; 
+making which their headquarters they harried the 
+Aeginetans of the island. 
+
+91. This was done after the time whereof I have 
+spoken.! But the rich men of Aegina gained the 
+mastery over the commonalty, who had risen against 
+them with Nicodromus, and having made them captive 
+led them out to be slain. For this cause a curse fell 
+upon them, whereof for all their devices they could 
+not rid themselves by sacrifice, but they were driven 
+out of their island ere the goddess would be merciful 
+to them. For they had taken seven hundred of the 
+commonalty alive; and as they led these out for 
+slaughter one of them escaped from his bonds and 
+fled to the temple gate of Demeter the Lawgiver, 
+. where he laid hold of the door-handles and clung 
+to them; so when his enemies could not drag him 
+away for all their striving, they cut off his hands, 
+
+
+1 That is, it was done between 490 and 480. 
+
+
+243 
+R 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+αὐτοῦ τὰς χεῖρας ἦγον οὕτω, αἱ χεῖρες δὲ ἐκεῖναι 
+ἐμπεφυκυῖαι ἦσαν τοῖσι ἐπισπάστροισι. 
+
+92. Ταῦτα μέν νυν σφέας αὐτοὺς οἱ Αἰγινῆται 
+ἐργάσαντο, ᾿Αθηναίοισι δὲ ἥκουσι ἐναυμάχησαν 
+νηυσὶ ἑβδομήκοντα, ἑσσωθέντες δὲ τῇ ναυμαχίῃ 
+ἐπεκαλέοντο τοὺς αὐτοὺς καὶ πρότερον, ᾿Αργείους. 
+καὶ δή σφι οὗτοι μὲν οὐκέτι βοηθέουσι, μεμφόμενοι 
+ὅτι Αἰγιναῖαι νέες ἀνάγκῃ λαμφθεῖσαι ὑπὸ Κλεο- 
+μένεος ἔσχον τε ἐς τὴν ᾿Αργολίδα χώρην καὶ 
+συναπέβησαν Λακεδαιμονίοισι, συναπέβησαν δὲ 
+καὶ ἀπὸ Σικυωνιέων νεῶν ἄνδρες τῇ αὐτῇ ταύτῃ 
+ἐσ βολῇ" καί σφι ὑπ ᾿Αργείων ἐπεβλήθ η ζημίη 
+χίλια τάλαντα ἐκτῖσαι, πεντακόσια ἑκατέρους. 
+Σικυώνιοι μέν νυν συγγνόντες ἀδικῆσαι ὡμολό- 
+yncav ἑκατὸν τάλαντα ἐκτίσαντες ἀζήμιοι εἶναι, 
+Αἰγινῆται δὲ οὔτε συνεγινώσκοντο ἡσάν τε αὖθα- 
+δέστεροι. διὰ δὴ ὧν σφι ταῦτα δεομένοισι ἀπὸ 
+μὲν τοῦ δημοσίου οὐδεὶς ᾿Αργείων ἔτι ἐβοήθεε, 
+ἐθελονταὶ δὲ ἐ ἐς χιλίους: ἦγε δὲ αὐτοὺς στρατηγὸς 
+ἀνὴρ ᾧ οὔνομα, Εὐρυβάτης, ἀνὴρ πεντάεθλον 
+ἐπασκήσας. τούτων οἱ πλεῦνες οὐκ ἀπενόστησαν 
+ὀπίσω, ἀλλ᾽ ἐτελεύτησαν UT ᾿Αθηναίων ἐν Αὐγίνῃ' 
+αὐτὸς δὲ ὁ στρατηγὸς Εὐρυβάτης μουνομαχίην 
+ἐπασκέων τρεῖς μὲν ἄνδρας τρόπῳ τοιούτῳ κτείνει, 
+ὑπὸ δὲ τοῦ τετάρτου Σωφάνεος τοῦ Δεκελέος 
+ἀποθνήσκει. 
+
+93. Αἰγινῆται δὲ ἐοῦσι ἀτάκτοισι τοῖσι ᾿Αόη: 
+ναίοισι συμβαλόντες τῇσι νηυσὶ ἐνίκησαν, καί 
+σφεων νέας τέσσερας αὐτοῖσι τοῖσι ἀνδράσι 
+εἶλον. 
+
+94. ᾿Αθηναίοισι μὲν δὴ πόλεμος συνῆπτο πρὸς 
+
+
+244 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 91-94 
+
+
+and so brought him off; and those hands were left 
+clinging fast to the door-handles. 
+
+92. Thus the Aeginetans dealt with each other ; 
+when the Athenians had come, they fought with 
+them at sea with seventy ships, and being worsted 
+in the sea-fight they asked help of the Argives, as 
+they had done before. But this time the Argives 
+would not aid them, for a grudge that they bore the 
+Aeginetans; since ships of Aegina had been taken 
+perforce by Cleomenes and put in on the Argolid 
+coast, where their crews landed with the Lacedae- 
+monians; and there were men too from ships of 
+Sicyon that took part in this same onfall; and the 
+Argives laid on them the payment of a fine of a 
+thousand talents, each people five hundred. The 
+Sicyonians owned that they had done wrongfully 
+and agreed to go scathless for a payment of a hundred 
+talents, but the Aeginetans made no such confession, 
+and were stiff-necked. For this cause the Argive 
+state sent no man at their entreaty to aid them, but 
+about a thousand came of their own will, led by a 
+captain whose name was Eurybates, a man practised 
+in the five contests.! Of these the greater part 
+never returned back but met their death by the 
+hands of the Athenians in Aegina; Eurybates 
+himself, their captain, fought in single combat and 
+thus slew three men, but was slain by the fourth, 
+Sophanes the son of Deceles. 
+
+93. The Aeginetan ships found the Athenians in 
+disarray, and attacked and overcame them, taking 
+four Athenian ships and their crews. 
+
+94. Thus Athens and Aegina grappled together in 
+
+
+1 The *Pentathlum ' consisted of jumping, discus-throwing, 
+spear-throwing, running, and wrestling. 
+
+
+245 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Αἰγινήτας. ὁ δὲ Πέρσης τὸ ἑωυτοῦ ἐποίεε, ὥστε 
+ἀναμιμνήσκοντός τε αἰεὶ τοῦ θεράποντος μεμνῆσθαί 
+μιν τῶν ᾿Αθηναίων, καὶ Πεισιστρατιδέων προσ- 
+κατημένων καὶ διαβαλλόντων ᾿Αθηναίους, à ἅμα δὲ 
+Βουλόμενος ὁ Δαρεῖος ταύτης ἐχόμενος τῆς. προ- 
+φάσιος καταστρέφεσθαι τῆς “Ελλάδος τοὺς μὴ 
+δόντας αὐτῷ γῆν τε καὶ ὕδωρ. Μαρδόνιον μὲν δὴ 
+φλαύρως πρήξαντα τῷ στόλῳ παραλύει τῆς 
+στρατηγύης, ἄλλους δὲ στρατηγοὺς ἀποδέξας 
+ἀπέστειλε ἐπὶ τε ᾿Ερέτριαν καὶ ᾿Αθήνας, Δᾶτίν τε 
+ἐόντα Μῆδον γένος καὶ ᾿Αρταφρένεα τὸν Apra- 
+deu παῖδα, ἀδελφιδέον ἑωυτοῦ" ἐντειλάμενος 
+€ ἀπέπεμπε ἐξανδραποδίσαντας ᾿Αθήνας καὶ 
+᾿Ερέτριαν ἀνάγειν ἑωυτῷ ἐς ὄψιν τὰ ἀνδράποδα. 
+96. Ὡς δὲ οἱ στρατηγοὶ οὗτοι οἱ ἀποδεχθέντες 
+πορευόμενοι παρὰ βασιλέος ἆ ἀπίκοντο τῆς Κιλικίης 
+ἐς τὸ ᾽Αλήιον πεδίον, ἅ ἅμα ἀγόμενοι πεζον στρατὸν 
+πολλόν τε καὶ εὖ ἐσκευασμένον, ἐνθαῦτα στρατο- 
+πεδευομένοισι ἐπῆλθε μὲν ὁ ναυτικὸς πᾶς στρατὸς 
+ὁ ἐπιταχθεὶς -ἑκάστοισι, παρεγένοντο δὲ καὶ αἱ 
+ἱππαγωγοὶ νέες, τὰς TQ προτέρῳ ἔτεϊ προεῖπε 
+τοῖσι ἑωυτοῦ δασμοφόροισι Δαρεῖος ἑτοιμάξειν. 
+ἐσβαλόμενοι δὲ τοὺς ἵππους ἐς ταύτας καὶ τὸν 
+πεζὸν στρατὸν ἐσβιβάσαντες ἐς τὰς νέας, ἔπλεον 
+ἑξακοσίῃσι τριήρεσι ἐς τὴν Ἰωνίην. ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ 
+οὐ παρὰ τὴν ἤπειρον. εἶχον τὰς νέας ἰθὺ τοῦ τε 
+Ἑλλησπόντου καὶ τῆς Θρηίκης, ἀλλ᾽ ἐκ Σάμου 
+ὁρμώμενοι παρά τε Ἰκάριον καὶ διὰ νήσων τὸν 
+πλόον ἐποιεῦντο, ὡς μὲν ἐμοὶ δοκέειν, δείσαντες 
+μάλιστα τὸν περίπλοον τοῦ "Abw, ὅτι τῷ προτέρῳ 
+ἔτεϊ ποιεύμενοι ταύτῃ τὴν κομιδὴν μεγάλως 
+
+
+246 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 94-95 
+
+
+war. But the Persian was going about his own 
+business; for his servant was ever reminding him 
+to remember the Athenians,! and the Pisistratidae 
+were at his elbow maligning the Athenians, and 
+moreover Darius desired to take this pretext for 
+subduing all the men of Hellas that had not given 
+him earth and water. As for Mardonius, who had 
+fared so ill with his armament, him he dismissed 
+from his command, and appointed other generals 
+to lead his armies against Athens and Eretria, Datis 
+a Mede, and his own nephew Artaphrenes son of 
+Artaphrenes; and the charge he gave them at their 
+departure was, to enslave Athens and Eretria, and 
+bring the slaves into his presence. 
+
+95. When these the appointed generals on their 
+way from the king's presence were arrived at the 
+Aleian plain in Cilicia, bringing with them a host 
+great and well furnished, there they encamped- and 
+were overtaken by all the armament of ships that 
+was assigned to each portion; and the transports 
+too for horses came up, that in the year before this 
+Darius had bidden his tributary subjects to make 
+ready. Having cast the horses into these, and em- 
+barked the land army in the ships, they sailed to 
+Ionia with six hundred triremes. Thence they held 
+their course not by the mainland and straight 
+towards the Hellespont and Thrace, but setting 
+forth from Samos they sailed by the Icarian sea and 
+from island to island; this, to my thinking, was 
+because they feared above all the voyage round 
+Athos, seeing that in the year past they had come 
+to great disaster by holding their course that way; 
+
+
+1 Cp. V. 105. 
+247 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+προσέπταισαν' πρὸς δὲ καὶ ἡ Νάξος σφέας 
+ἠνάγκαξε πρότερον οὐκ ἁλοῦσα. 
+
+96. ᾿Επεὶ δὲ ἐκ τοῦ Ἱκαρίου πελάγεος Tpos- 
+φερόμενοι προσέμιξαν τῇ Νάξῳ, ἐπὶ ταύτην γὰρ 
+δὴ πρώτην ἐπεῖχον στρατεύεσθαι οἱ Πέρσαι 
+μεμνημένοι τῶν πρότερον οἱ Νάξιοι πρὸς τὰ 
+ὄρεα οἴχοντο φεύγοντες οὐδὲ ὑπέμειναν. οἱ δὲ 
+Πέρσαι ἀνδραποδισάμενοι τοὺς κατέλαβον αὐτῶν, 
+ἐνέπρησαν καὶ τὰ ἱρὰ καὶ τὴν πόλιν. ταῦτα δὲ 
+ποιήσαντες ἐπὶ τὰς ἄλλας νήσους ἀνήγοντο. 
+
+97. Ἐν ᾧ δὲ οὗτοι ταῦτα ἐποίευν, οἱ Δήλιοι 
+ἐκλιπόντες καὶ αὐτοὶ τὴν, Δῆλον οἴχοντο φεύγοντες 
+ἐς Τῆνον. τῆς δὲ στρατιῆς καταπλεούσης ὁ Δᾶτις 
+προπλώσας οὐκ ἔα τὰς νέας πρὸς τὴν Δῆλον 
+προσορμίζεσθαι, ἀλλὰ πέρην ἐν τῇ 'Ῥηναίῃ' αὐτὸς 
+δὲ πυθόμενος í ἵνα ἦσαν οἱ Δήλιοι, πέμπων κήρυκα 
+ἠγόρευέ σφι τάδε. '“"Ανδρες ipot, τί φεύγοντες 
+οὗ εσθε, οὐκ ἐπιτήδεα καταγνόντες κατ ἐμεῦ ; 
+ἐγὼ γὰρ καὶ αὐτὸς ἐπὶ τοσοῦτό γε φρονέω καί μοι 
+ἐκ βασιλέος ὧδε ἐπέσταλται, ἐν τῇ χώρῃ οἱ δύο 
+θεοὶ ἐ ἐγένοντο, ταύτην μηδὲν σίνεσθαι) μήτε αὐτὴν 
+τὴν χώρην μήτε τοὺς οἰκήτορας αὐτῆς. νῦν ὧν 
+καὶ ἄπιτε ἐπὶ τὰ ὑμέτερα. αὐτῶν καὶ τὴν νῆσον 
+νέμεσθε." ταῦτα μὲν ἐπεκηρυκεύσατο τοῖσι 
+Δηλίοισι, μετὰ δὲ .Ἀιβανωτοῦ τριηκόσια τάλαντα 
+κατανήσας ἐπὶ τοῦ βωμοῦ ἐθυμίησε. 
+
+98. Δᾶτις μὲν δὴ ταῦτα ποιήσας ἔπλεε ἅμα τῷ 
+στρατῷ ἐπὶ τὴν ᾿Ερέτριαν πρῶτα, ἅμα ἀγόμενος 
+καὶ Ἴωνας καὶ Αἰολέας. μετὰ δὲ τοῦτον ἐνθεῦτεν 
+ἐξαναχθέντα Δῆλος ἐκινήθη, ὡς ἔλεγον Δήλιοι, 
+καὶ πρῶτα καὶ ὕστατα μέχρι ἐμεῦ σεισθεῖσα. καὶ 
+
+
+248 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 95-98 
+
+
+and moreover Naxos constrained them, in that they 
+had not yet taken it. 
+
+96. When they approached Naxos from the Icarian 
+sea and came to land (for it was Naxos which the 
+Persians purposed first to attack), the Naxians, 
+mindful of what had before happened,! fled away to 
+the mountains, not abiding their coming. The 
+Persians enslaved all of them that they caught, and 
+burnt even their temples and their city ; which done, 
+they set sail for the other islands. 
+
+97. While they so did, the Delians also left Delos 
+and fled away to Tenos. But Datis, when his host 
+was sailing landwards, went before it in his ship and 
+bade his fleet anchor not off Delos, but across the 
+water off Rhenaea; and being informed where 
+the Delians were, he sent a herald to them with 
+this proclamation: * Holy men, why have you fled 
+away, and so misjudged my intent? For it is my 
+own desire, and the king's command to me, to do no 
+harm to the land wherein the two gods? were born, 
+neither to the land itself nor to those that dwell 
+therein. Now, therefore, I bid you return to your 
+homes and dwell in your island." ‘This proclamation 
+he made to the Delians, and presently laid upon the 
+altar and burnt there three hundred talents’ weight 
+of frankincense. 
+
+98. This done, Datis sailed with his host against 
+Eretria first, taking with him Ionians and Aeolians ; 
+and after he had put out thence to sea, there was an 
+earthquake in Delos, the first and last, as the Delians 
+say, before my time. This portent was sent by 
+
+1 This probably refers to the Persian treatment of rebels, 
+
+
+described in chs. 31 and 32. 
+? Apollo and Artemis. 
+
+
+249 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τοῦτο μέν κου τέρας ἀνθρώποισι τῶν μελλόντων 
+ἔσεσθαι κακῶν ἔφαινε ὁ θεός. ἐπὶ γὰρ Δαρείου 
+τοῦ Ὑστάσπεος καὶ Ξέρξεω τοῦ Δαρείου καὶ 
+᾿Αρτοξέρξεω τοῦ Ξέρξεω, τριῶν τουτέων ἐπεξῆς 
+γενεέων, ἐγένετο πλέω κακὰ τῇ Ελλάδι 5 ἐπὶ 
+εἴκοσι ἄλλας γενεὰς τὰς πρὸ Δαρείου γενομένας, 
+τὰ μὲν ἀπὸ τῶν Περσέων αὐτῇ γενόμενα, τὰ δὲ 
+ἀπ] αὐτῶν τῶν κορυφαίων. περὶ τῆς ἀρχῆς πολε- 
+μεόντων. οὕτω οὐδὲν ἡ ἣν ἀεικὲς κινηθῆναι Δῆλον 
+τὸ πρὶν ἐοῦσαν ἀκίνητον. καὶ ἐν χρησμῷ ἣν 
+γεγραμμένον περὶ αὐτῆς ὧδε. 
+κινήσω καὶ Δῆλον ἀκίνητόν περ ἐοῦσαν. 
+
+δύναται δὲ κατὰ “Ελλάδα γλῶσσαν ταῦτα τὰ 
+οὐνόματα, Δαρεῖος ἐρξείης, Ξέρξης ἀρήιος, ᾿Άρτο- 
+ξέρξης μέγας ἀρήιος. τούτους μὲν δὴ τοὺς 
+
+ασιλέας ὧδε ἂν ὀρθῶς κατὰ γλῶσσαν τὴν 
+σφετέρην | Ἕλληνες καλέοιεν. 
+
+99. Οἱ δὲ βάρβαροι « ὡς ἀπήειραν ἐκ τῆς Δήλου, 
+προσῖσχον πρὸς τὰς νήσους, ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ στρατιήν 
+τε παρελάμβανον καὶ ὁμήρους τῶν νησιωτέων 
+παῖδας ἐλάμβανον. ὡς δὲ περιπλέοντες τὰς 
+
+νήσους προσέσχον καὶ ἐς Κάρυστον, οὐ γὰρ δή 
+
+σφι οἱ Καρύστιοι οὔτε ὁμήρους ἐδίδοσαν οὔτε 
+ἔφασαν ἐπὶ πόλιας ἀστυγείτονας στρατεύεσθαι, 
+λέγοντες ᾿Ερέτριάν τε καὶ ᾿Αθήνας, ἐνθαῦτα τού- 
+τους ἐπολιόρκεόν τε καὶ τὴν γῆν σφεων € ἔκειρον, ἐς 
+ὃ καὶ οἱ Καρύστιοι παρέστησαν ἐς τῶν Περσέων 
+τὴν γνώμην. 
+
+100. Ἐρετριέες δὲ πυνθανόμενοι τὴν στρατιὴν 
+τὴν Περσικὴν, ἐπὶ σφέας ἐπιπλέουσαν ᾿Αθηναίων 
+ἐδεήθησαν σφίσι βοηθοὺς γενέσθαι. ᾿Αθηναῖοι δὲ 
+25ο 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 98-100 
+
+
+heaven, as I suppose, to be an omen of the ills that 
+were coming on the world. For in three generations, 
+that is, in the time of Darius son of Hystaspes and 
+Xerxes son of Darius and Artoxerxes son of Xerxes,! 
+more ills befel Hellas than in twenty generations 
+before Darius; which ills came in part from the 
+Persians and in part from the wars for preéminence 
+among the chief of the nations themselves. Thus 
+it was no marvel that there should be an earthquake 
+in Delos where none had been ere that. Also there 
+was an oracle concerning Delos, wherein it was 
+written : 
+
+
+Delos itself will I shake, that ne’er was shaken 
+aforetime. E 
+
+
+Now as touching the names of those three kings, 
+Darius signifies the Doer, Xerxes the Warrior, 
+Artoxerxes the Great Warrior ; and such the Greeks 
+would rightly call them in their language. 
+
+99. Launching out to sea from Delos, the 
+foreigners put in at the islands, and gathered an 
+army thence and took the sons of the islanders 
+for hostages. When in their voyage about the 
+islands they came to Carystos, the Carystians gave 
+them no hostages and refused to join with them 
+against neighbouring cities, whereby they signified 
+Eretria and Athens; wherefore the Persians be- 
+sieged them and laid waste their land, till the 
+Carystians too came over to their side. 
+
+100. The Eretrians, when they learnt that the 
+Persian host was sailing to attack them, entreated 
+aid from the Athenians. These did not refuse the 
+
+
+1 522-424. 
+251 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οὐκ ἀπείπαντο τὴν ἐπικουρίην, ἀλλὰ τοὺς τετρα- 
+κισχιλίους τοὺς κληρουχέοντας τῶν ἱπποβοτέων 
+Χαλκιδέων τὴν χώρην, τούτους σφι διδοῦσι 
+τιμωρούς. τῶν δὲ ᾿Ερετριέων ἦν ἄρα οὐδὲν ὑγιὲς 
+βούλευμα, of μετεπέμποντο μὲν ᾿Αθηναίους, 
+ἐφρόνεον δὲ διφασίας ἰδέας. οἳ μὲν γὰρ αὐτῶν 
+ἐβουλεύοντο ἐκλιπεῖν TOV πόλιν ἐς τὰ ἄκρα τῆς 
+Εὐβοίης, ἄλλοι δὲ αὐτῶν ἴδια κέρδεα προσδεκόµενοι 
+παρὰ τοῦ Πέρσεω οἴσεσθαι προδοσίην ἐσκευά- 
+ζοντο. μαθὼν δὲ τούτων ἑκάτερα ὡς εἶχε Αἰσχίνης 
+ὁ Ν όθωνος, € ἐὼν τῶν ᾿Ερετριέων τὰ πρῶτα, φράξει 
+τοῖσι ἥκουσι ᾿Αθηναίων πάντα τὰ παρεόντα σφι 
+πρήγματα, προσεδέετό τε ἀπαλλάσσεσθαι σφέας 
+ἐς τὴν σφετέρην, i ίνα μὴ προσαπόλωνται. οἱ δὲ 
+᾿Αθηναῖοι ταῦτα Αἰσχίνῃ συμβουλεύσαντι πεί- 
+θονται. 
+
+101. Καὶ οὗτοι μὲν διαβάντες ἐς Ὠρωπὸν 
+ἔσωξον σφέας αὐτούς" οἱ δὲ Πέρσαι. πλέοντες 
+κατέσχον τὰς νέας τῆς ᾿Ερετρικῆς χώρης κατὰ 
+Τέμενος καὶ Χοι έας καὶ Αὐγίλεα, κατασχόντες 
+δὲ ταῦτα τὰ χωρία αὐτίκα ἵππους τε ἐξεβάλλοντο 
+καὶ παρεσκευάξοντο ὡς προσοισόµενοι τοῖσι ἐχ- 
+θροῖσι. οἱ δὲ ᾿Ερετριέες ἐπεξελθεῖν μὲν καὶ 
+μαχέσασθαι οὐκ ἐποιεῦντο βουλήν, εἶ κως δὲ 
+διαφυλάξαιεν τὰ τείχεα, τούτου σφι πέρι ἔμελε, 
+ἐπείτε ἐνίκα μὴ ἐκλιπεῖν τὴν. πόλιν. προσβολῆς 
+δὲ γινομένης καρτερῆς πρὸς τὸ τεῖχος ἔπιπτον ἐπὶ 
+ἓξ ἡμέρας πολλοὶ μὲν ἀμφοτέρων" τῇ δὲ ἑβδόμῃ 
+Εὔφορβος τε ὁ ᾿Αλκιμάχου καὶ Φίλαγρος ὁ 
+Κυνέου ἄνδρες τῶν ἀστῶν δόκιμοι προδιδοῦσι 
+τοῖσι Πέρσῃσι. οἳ δὲ ἐσελθόντες ἐς τὴν πόλιν 
+τοῦτο μὲν τὰ ἱρὰ συλήσαντες ἐνέπρησαν, ἀποτινύ- 
+252 
+
+
+BOOK VI. roo-101 
+
+
+aid, but gave the Eretrians for their defenders the 
+four thousand tenant farmers that held the land of 
+the Chalcidian horse-breeders.! But it would seem 
+that all was unstable in the designs of the Eretrians ; 
+for they sent to the Athenians for aid, but their 
+counsels were divided ; the one part of them planned 
+to leave the city and make for the heights of Euboea, 
+the other part plotted treason in hope so to win 
+advantage for themselves from the Persians. Then 
+Aeschines son of Nothon, who was a leading man in 
+Eretria, out of his knowledge of both designs told 
+those Athenians who had come how matters stood, 
+and entreated them, moreover, to depart to their 
+own country, lest they should perish like the rest ; 
+and the Athenians in this followed Aeschines' advice. 
+
+101. So they saved themselves by crossing over 
+to Oropus ; the Persians in their sailing held their 
+course for Temenos and Choereae and Aegilea, all 
+in Eretrian territory, and having taken possession of 
+these places they straightway disembarked their 
+horses and made preparation to attack their enemies. 
+The Eretrians had no design of coming out and 
+fighting; all their care was to guard their walls, if 
+they could, seeing that it was the prevailing counsel 
+not to leave the city. The walls were stoutly 
+attacked, and for six days many fell on both sides ; 
+but on the seventh two Eretrians of repute, Euphor- 
+bus son of Alcimachus and Philagrus son of Cineas, 
+betrayed the city to the Persians. These entered 
+the city and plundered and burnt the temples, in 
+
+
+1 Cp. V. 77. 
+253 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μενοι τῶν ἐν Σάρδισι κατακανθέντων ἱρῶν, τοῦτο 
+δὲ τοὺς ἀνθρώπους ἠνδραποδίσαντο κατὰ τὰς 
+Δαρείου ἐντολάς. 
+
+102. Χειρωσάμενοι δὲ τὴν ᾿Ερέτριαν καὶ ἐπι- 
+σχόντες ὀλίγας ἡ ἡμέρας ἔπλεον ἐς γῆν τὴν ᾿Αττικήν, 
+κατέργοντές τε πολλὸν καὶ δοκέοντες ταὐτὰ τοὺς 
+᾿Αθηναίους ποιήσειν τὰ καὶ τοὺς Ἐρετριέας 
+ἐποίησαν. καὶ ἦν γὰρ ὁ Μαραθὼν ἐπιτηδεότατον 
+χωρίον τῆς ᾿Αττικῆς ἐνιππεῦσαι καὶ ἀγχοτάτω 
+τῆς Ἔρετρίης, è ἐς τοῦτό σφι κατηγέετο Ἱππίης ὁ 
+Πεισιστράτου. 
+
+109. ᾿Αθηναῖοι δὲ ὡς ἐπύθοντο ταῦτα, ἐβοήθεον 
+καὶ αὐτοὶ ἐς τὸν Μαραθῶνα. ἦγον δὲ σφέας 
+στρατηγοὶ δέκα, τῶν ὁ δέκατος ἦν Μιλτιάδης: 
+τοῦ τὸν πατέρα Κίμωνα τὸν Στησαγόρεω κατέλαβε 
+φυγεῖν ἐξ ᾿Αθηνέων Πεισίστρατον τὸν Ἱπποκρά- 
+τεος. καὶ αὐτῷ φεύγοντι Ὀλυμπιάδα ἀνελέσθαι 
+τεθρίππῳ συνέβη, καὶ ταύτην μὲν. τὴν νίκην 
+ἀνελόμενον μιν τὠυτὸ ἐξενείκασθαι, τῷ ὁμομητρίῳ 
+ἀδελφεῷ Μιλτιάδῃ: μετὰ δὲ τῇ ὑστέρῃ Ὄλυμ- 
+πιάδι τῇσι αὐτῇσι ἵπποισι νικῶν παραδιδοῖ 
+Πεισιστράτῳ ἀνακηρυχθῆναι, καὶ τὴν νίκην 
+παρεὶς τούτῳ κατῆλθε e ἐπὶ τὰ ἑ ἑωυτοῦ ὑπόσπονδος. 
+καί μιν ἀνελόμενον τῆσι αὐτῇσι ἵπποισι ἄλλην 
+Ὀλυμπιάδα κατέλαβε ἀποθανεῖν ὑπὸ τῶν Ile- 
+σιστράτου παίδων, οὐκέτι περιεόντος αὐτοῦ 
+Πεισιστράτου" κτείνουσι δὲ οὗτοί μιν κατὰ τὸ 
+πρυτανήιον νυκτὸς ὑπείσαντες ἄνδρας. τέθαπται 
+δε Κίμων πρὸ τοῦ ἄστεος, πέρην τῆς διὰ Κοίλης 
+καλεομένης ὁδοῦ" καταντίον δ᾽ αὐτοῦ αἱ ἵπποι 
+τεθάφαται αὗται αἱ τρεῖς Ὀλυμπιάδας ἀνελόμεναι. 
+ἐποίησαν δὲ καὶ ἄλλαι ἵπποι ἤδη τὠυτὸ τοῦτο 
+254 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 1o1-103 
+
+
+revenge for the temples that were burnt at Sardis; 
+moreover they enslaved the townspeople, according 
+to Darius’ “command. 
+
+102. Having subdued Eretria they delaved for a 
+few days, and then sailed to the Attic land, pressing 
+hard forward and thinking that they would do to the 
+Athenians what they had done to the Eretrians; and 
+Marathon ! being the fittest part of Attica for horse- 
+men to ride over, and nearest to Eretria, thither they 
+were guided by Hippias son of Pisistratus. 
+
+103. When the Athenians learnt of this, they too 
+marched out to Marathon. Ten generals led them, 
+of whom the tenth was Miltiades, whose father, 
+Cimon son of Stesagoras, had been, as fate would 
+have it, banished from Athens by Pisistratus son of 
+Hippocrates. Beingan exile, he had the luck to win 
+the prize for four-horse chariots at Olympia, by this 
+victory gaining the same honour as his mother’s son 
+Miltiades had won. At the next Olympiad he was 
+a winner again with the same team of mares, but 
+suffered Pisistratus to be proclaimed victor, for which 
+surrender of his victory he returned to his home 
+under treaty. A third Olympic prize he won with 
+the same team ; after that, Pisistratus himself being 
+now dead, fate willed that Miltiades should be slain 
+by Pisistratus’ sons; these suborned men and slew 
+him by night in the town-hall. Cimon lies buried 
+outside the city, beyond the road that is called 
+Through the Hollow; and the mares that won 
+him the three Olympic prizes are buried over 
+against his grave. None others save the mares of 
+
+
+1 For a detailed discussion of various questions connected 
+with the battle of Marathon, readers are referred to How 
+and Wells, Appendix XVIII. 
+
+
+255 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Εὐαγόρεω Λάκωνος, πλέω δὲ τουτέων οὐδαμαί. ὁ 
+μὲν δὴ πρεσβύτερος τῶν παίδων τῷ Κίμωνι 
+Στησαγόρης ἦν τηνικαῦτα παρὰ τῷ πάτρῳ 
+Μιλτιάδῃ τρεφόμενος ἐν τῇ Χερσονήσῳ, ὁ δὲ 
+νεώτερος παρ᾽ αὐτῷ Κίμωνι ἐν ᾿Αθήνησι, οὔνομα 
+ἔχων ἀπὸ τοῦ οἰκιστέω τῆς Χερσονήσου Μιλτιάδεω 
+Μιλτιάδης. 
+
+104. Οὗτος δὴ ὧν τότε ὁ Μιλτιάδης ἥκων ἐκ 
+τῆς Χερσονήσου καὶ ἐκπεφευγὼς διπλόον θάνατον 
+ἐστρατήγεε ᾿Αθηναίων. ἅμα μὲν γὰρ οἱ Φοίνικες 
+αὐτὸν οἱ ἐπιδιώξαντες μέχρι Ἴμβρου περὶ πολλοῦ 
+ἐποιεῦντο λαβεῖν τε καὶ ἀναγαγεῖν παρὰ βασιλέα" 
+ἅμα δὲ ἐκφυγόντα τε τούτους καὶ ἀπικόμενον ἐς 
+
+τὴν ἑωυτοῦ δοκέοντά τε εἶναι ἐν σωτηρίῃ ἤδη, τὸ 
+ἐνθεῦτέν pw οἱ ἐχθροὶ ὑποδεξάμενοι ὑπὸ δικαστή- 
+ριον αὐτὸν ἀγαγόντες ἐδίωξαν τυραννίδος τῆς ἐν 
+Χερσονήσῳ. ἀποφυγὼν δὲ καὶ τούτους στρατηγὸς 
+οὕτω ᾿Αθηναίων ἀπεδέχθη, αἱρεθεὶς ὑπὸ τοῦ 
+δήμου. 
+
+106. Καὶ πρῶτα μὲν ἐόντες ἔτι ἐν τῷ ἄστεϊ οἱ 
+στρατηγοὶ ἀποπέμπουσι ἐς Σπάρτην κήρυκα 
+Φειδιππίδην ᾿Αθηναῖον μὲν ἄνδρα, ἄλλως δὲ 
+ἡμεροδρόμην τε καὶ τοῦτο μελετῶντα" τῷ δή, ὡς 
+αὐτός τε ἔλεγε Φειδιππίδης καὶ ᾿Αθηναίοισι 
+ἀπήγγελλε, περὶ τὸ Παρθένιον ὄρος τὸ ὑπὲρ 
+Τεγέης ὁ o Πὰν περιπίπτει" βώσαντα δὲ τὸ οὔνομα 
+τοῦ Φειδιππίδεω τὸν Ilava ᾿Αθηναίοισι κελεῦσαι 
+ἀπαγγεῖλαι, δι ὅ τι ἑωυτοῦ οὐδεμίαν ἐπιμελείην 
+ποιεῦνται ἐόντος εὐνόου ᾿Αθηναίοισι καὶ πολλαχῇ 
+γενομένου σφι ἤδη χρησίμου, τὰ Ó ἔτι καὶ ἐσο- 
+μένου. καὶ ταῦτα μὲν ᾿Αθηναῖοι, καταστάντων 
+σφι εὖ ἤδη τῶν πρηγμάτων, πιστεύσαντες εἶναι 
+256 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 103-105 
+
+
+the Laconian Evagoras had ever achieved the same. 
+Now Stesagoras, the eldest of Cimon's sons, was at 
+that time being brought up in the Chersonese with 
+Miltiades his uncle; but the younger, named Miltiades 
+after that Miltiades who planted a settlement on the 
+Chersonese, was with Cimon himself at Athens. 
+
+104. This Miltiades, then, had now come from the 
+Chersonese and was a general of the Athenian army, 
+after twice escaping death; for the Phoenicians, who 
+held him in chase as far as Imbros, set great store by 
+catching him and bringing him before the king ; and 
+when he had escaped from them to his country and 
+supposed himself to be now in safety, he was next 
+met by his enemies, who haled him before a court 
+and would have justice on him for his rule of the 
+Chersonese. From them too he was freed, and after 
+that was appointed a general of the Athenians by 
+the people's choice. 
+
+105. And first, while they were yet in the city, 
+ihe generals sent as a herald to Sparta Phidippides, 
+an Athenian, and one, moreover, that was a runner 
+of long distances and made that his calling. This 
+man, as he said himself and told the Athenians, when 
+he was in the Parthenian hills above Tegea, met with 
+Pan; who,calling to Phidippides by name, bade him 
+say to the Athenians, * Why is it that ye take no 
+thought for me, that am your friend, and ere now have 
+oft been serviceable to you, and will be so again?" 
+This story the Athenians believed to be true, and 
+when their state won to prosperity they founded a 
+
+
+257 
+VOL. III S 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἀληθέα ἱδρύσαντο ὑπὸ τῇ ἀκροπόλι Πανὸς ἱρόν, 
+καὶ αὐτὸν ἀπὸ ταύτης τῆς ἀγγελίης θυσίησι 
+ἐπετείοισι καὶ λαμπάδι ἱλάσκονται. 
+
+106. Τότε δὲ πεμφθεὶς | ὑπὸ τῶν στρατηγῶν ὁ 
+Φειδιππίδης οὗτος, ὅτε πέρ οἱ ἔφη καὶ τὸν Π]ᾶνα 
+φανῆναι, δευτεραῖος ἐκ τοῦ ᾿Αθηναίων ἄστεος ἦν 
+ἐν Σπάρτῃ, ἀπικόμενος δὲ ἐπὶ τοὺς ἄρχοντας 
+ἔλεγε «Ὢ Λακεδαιμόνιοι, ᾿Αθηναῖοι i ὑμέων δόντα: 
+σφίσι βοηθῆσαι καὶ μὴ περιιδεῖν πόλιν ἀρχαιοτά- 
+την ἐν τοῖσι "Ελλησι δουλοσύνῃ περιπεσοῦσαν 
+πρὸς ἀνδρῶν βαρβάρων" καὶ γὰρ. νῦν ᾿Ερέτριά τε 
+ἠνδραπόδισται καὶ πόλι λογίμῳ uP Ἑλλὰς γέγονε 
+ἀσθενεστέρη." ὃ μὲν δή σφι τὰ ἐντεταλμένα 
+ἀπήγγελλε, τοῖσι δὲ ἕαδε μὲν βοηθέειν ᾿Αθηναίοισι, 
+ἀδύνατα δέ σφι ἦν τὸ παραυτίκα ποιέειν ταῦτα, 
+οὐ βουλομένοισι λύειν τὸν νόμον" ἦν γὰρ ἰσταμένου 
+τοῦ μηνὸς εἰνάτη, εἰνάτη δὲ οὐκ ἐξελεύσεσθαι 
+ἔφασαν μὴ οὐ πλήρεος ἐόντος τοῦ κύκλου. 
+
+107. Οὗτοι μέν νυν τὴν, πανσέληνον ἔμενον. 
+τοῖσι δὲ βαρβάροισι κατηγέετο Ἱππίης 0 Πεισι- 
+στράτου ἐς τὸν Μαραθῶνα, τῆς παροιχοµένης 
+VUKTOS ὄψιν ἰδὼν τοιήνδε: ἐδόκεε ὁ Ἱππίης τῇ 
+μητρὶ τῇ ἑωυτοῦ συνευνηθῆναι. συνεβάλετο ὧν 
+ἐκ τοῦ ὀνείρου κατελθὼν ἐς τὰς ᾿Αθήνας καὶ 
+ἀνασωσάμενος τὴν ἀρχὴν τελευτήσειν ἐν τῇ 
+ἑωυτοῦ γηραιός. ἐκ μὲν δὴ τῆς ὄψιος συνεβάλετο 
+ταῦτα, τότε δὲ κατηγεόµενος τοῦτο μὲν τὰ 
+ἀνδράποδα τὰ ἐξ Ἐρετρίης ἀπέβησε ἐς τὴν νῆσον 
+τὴν Στυρέων, καλεομένην δὲ Αἰγλείην, τοῦτο δὲ 
+
+
+! According to Isocrates the distance traversed was 150 
+miles, 
+
+
+258 
+
+
+BOOK VI. τος-το] 
+
+
+temple of Pan beneath the acropolis, and for that 
+message sought the gods' favour with yearly sacrifices 
+and torch-races. 
+
+106. But now,at the time when he was sent by 
+the generals and said that Pan had appeared to him, 
+this Phidippides was at Sparta on the day after he 
+left Athens ;! and he came before the rulers and said, 
+* Lacedaemonians, the Athenians entreat you to 
+send them help, and not suffer a most ancient city 
+of Hellas to be brought into bondage by foreigners ; 
+for even now Eretria has been enslaved, and Hellas 
+is the weaker by the loss of a notable city." Thus 
+Phidippides gave the message wherewith he was 
+charged, and the Lacedaemonians resolved to send 
+help to the Athenians; but they could not do this 
+immediately, being loath to break their law; for it 
+was the ninth day of the first part of the month, and 
+they would make no expedition (they said) on the 
+ninth day, when the moon was not full.? 
+
+107. So they waited for the full moon. As for the 
+Persians, they were guided to Marathon by Hippias 
+son of Pisistratus. Hippias in the past night had 
+seen a vision in his sleep, wherein he thought that 
+he lay with his own mother; he interpreted this 
+dream to signify that he should return to Athens and 
+recover his power, and so die an old man in his own 
+mother-country. Thus he interpreted the vision ; for 
+the nonce, being the Persians' guide, he carried the 
+slaves taken in Eretria to the island of the Styreans 
+called Aeglea; moreover, it was he who made the 
+
+
+2 This statement probably applies only to the month 
+Carneius (Attic Metageitnion), when the Carneia was cele- 
+brated at Sparta in honour of Apollo, from the 7th to the 
+15th of the month, 
+
+
+259 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+/ » N ^ . / e 
+καταγομένας ἐς τὸν Μαραθῶνα τὰς νέας ὅρμιζε 
+οὗτος, ἐκβάντας τε ἐς γῆν τοὺς βαρβάρους 
+διέτασσε. καί οἱ ταῦτα διέποντι ἐπῆλθε πταρεῖν 
+τε καὶ βῆξαι μεξόνως ἢ ὡς ἐώθεε οἷα δέ οἱ 
+πρεσβυτέρῳ ἐόντι τῶν ὀδόντων οἱ πλεῦνες ἐσεί- 
+
+΄ 9 σ ^ , , , / e A 
+οντο' τούτων Qv ἕνα τῶν ὀδόντων ἐκβάλλει ὑπὸ 
+
+, o / , / WB) M / , ^ 
+Bins βήξας' ἐκπεσόντος δὲ ἐς τὴν ψάμμον αὐτοῦ 
+9 / \ A 2 ^ e \ » 
+ἐποιέετο σπουδὴν πολλὴν ἐξευρεῖν. ὡς δὲ οὐκ 
+3 / / e ε 3 / 3 / 9 M . 
+ἐφαίνετο οἱ ὁ ὀδών, ἀναστενάξας εἶπε πρὸς τοὺς 
+
+, "7i *H ^ 5o , e / > / δέ 
+παραστάτας γῆ ἥδε οὐκ ἡμετέρη ἐστί, οὐδέ μιν 
+δυνησόμεθα ὑποχειρίην ποιήσασθαι" ὁκόσον δέ τι 
+μοι μέρος μετῆν, ὁ ὀδὼν μετέχει.᾽ 
+
+108. Ἱππίης μὲν δὴ ταύτῃ τὴν ὄψιν συνεβάλετο 
+, , > / \ / , 
+ἐξεληλυθέναι. ᾿Αθηναίοισι δὲ τεταγμένοισι ἐν 
+τεμένεϊ “Ἡρακλέος ἐπῆλθον βοηθέοντες Πλαταιέες 
+πανδημεί. καὶ γὰρ καὶ ἐδεδώκεσαν σφέας αὐτοὺς 
+
+- , / e / M , e \ 
+τοῖσι Αθηναίοισι οἱ Πλαταιέες, καὶ πόνους ὑπέρ 
+αὐτῶν οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι συχνοὺς ἤδη ἀναραιρέατο: 
+ἔδοσαν δὲ ὧδε. πιεζεύμενοι ὑπὸ Θηβαίων οἱ 
+Π]λαταιέες ἐδίδοσαν πρῶτα παρατυχοῦσι Κλεο- 
+μένεϊ τε τῷ νε καὶ Λακεδαιμονίοισι 
+σφέας αὐτούς. δὲ οὐ δεκόµενοι ἔλεγόν σφι 
+τάδε. '' Ἡμεῖς μὲν ἑκαστέρω τε οἰκέομεν, καὶ ὑμῖν 
+τοιήδε. τις γίνοιτ᾽ ἂν ἐπικουρίη ψυχρή" φθαίητε 
+γὰρ ἂν πολλάκις ἐξανδραποδισθέντες ἢ τινα 
+πυθέσθαι ἡμέων. συμβουλεύομεν δὲ ὑμῖν δοῦναι 
+ὑμέας αὐτοὺς ᾿Αθηναίοισι, πλησιοχώς οισι τε 
+ἀνδράσι καὶ τιμωρέειν ἐοῦσι οὐ κακοῖσι," ταῦτα 
+συνεβούλευον οἱ Λακεδαιμόνιοι οὐ κατὰ τὴν 
+εὐνοίην οὕτω τῶν Πλαταιέων ὡς βουλόμενοι τοὺς 
+
+
+26ο 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 107-108 
+
+
+. Ships to anchor when they had put in at Marathon, 
+and who set the foreigners in array when they were 
+landed. Now while he dealt with these matters he 
+fell a-sneezing and a-coughing more violently than 
+he was wont; he was well stricken in years, and the 
+most of his teeth were loose; whereby the violence 
+of his cough made one of his teeth to fall out. It 
+fell into the sand, and Hippias used all diligence to 
+find it; but the tooth being nowhere to be seen, he 
+said lamentably to them that stood by, “ This land is 
+none of ours, nor shall we avail to subdue it; my 
+tooth has all the share of it that was for me.” 
+
+108. This then Hippias guessed to be the fulfil- 
+ment of his dream. The Athenians were arrayed in 
+the precinct of Heracles, and now the whole power 
+of the Plataeans came to their aid; for the Plataeans 
+had put themselves under the protection of Athens,! 
+and the Athenians had taken upon them many 
+labours for their sake. The manner of the Plataeans’ 
+so doing was this:—Being hard pressed by the 
+Thebans, they had offered themselves to the first 
+comers, Cleomenes son of Anaxandrides and the 
+Lacedaemonians ; but these would not accept them, 
+and said: * We dwell afar off, and such aid as ours 
+would be found but cold comfort to you; for you 
+might be enslaved many times over ere any of us 
+heard of it. We counsel you to put yourselves in the 
+protection of the Athenians, who are your neighbours, 
+and can defend you right well.” This counsel the. 
+Lacedaemonians gave not so much out of their 
+goodwill to the Plataeans, as because they desired 
+that the Athenians should bring trouble on them- 
+
+! In 519, according to Thucydides (iii. 68) ; Grote gives a 
+later date. 
+
+
+261 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+᾿Αθηναίους ἔχειν. πόνους συνεστεῶτας Βοιωτοῖσι. 
+Λακεδαιμόνιοι μέν νυν Πλαταιεῦσι ταῦτα συνε- 
+βούλευον, ot δὲ οὐκ ἠπίστησαν, ἀλλ Αθηναίων 
+ἱρὰ ποιεύντων τοῖσι δυώδεκα θεοῖσι ἱκέται ἱζόμενοι 
+ἐπὶ τὸν βωμὸν ἐδίδοσαν σφέας αὐτούς. (Θηβαῖοι 
+δὲ πυθόμενοι ταῦτα ἐστρατεύοντο ἐπὶ τοὺς IIa- 
+ταιέας, ᾿Αθηναῖοι δέ σφι ἐβοήθεον. μελλόντων 
+δὲ συνάπτειν μάχην Κορίνθιοι οὐ περιεῖδον, 
+παρατυχόντες δὲ καὶ καταλλάξαντες ἐπιτρεψάν- 
+των ἀμφοτέρων οὔρισαν τὴν χώρην ἐπὶ τοῖσιδε, 
+éav Θηβαίους Βοιωτῶν τοὺς μὴ βουλομένους ἐς 
+Βοιωτοὺς τελέειν. Κορίνθιοι μὲν δὴ ταῦτα γνόντες 
+ἀπαλλάσσοντο, Αθηναίοισι δὲ ἀπιοῦσι ἐπεθήκαντο 
+Βοιωτοί, ἐπιθέμενοι δὲ ἑσσώθησαν, τῇ μάχῃ. 
+ὑπερβάντες δὲ οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι τοὺς οἱ Κορίνθιοι 
+ἔθηκαν Πλαταιεῦσι εἶναι οὔρους, τούτους ὑπερ- 
+βάντες τὸν ᾿Ασωπὸν αὐτὸν ἐποιήσαντο οὖρον 
+Θηβαίοισι πρὸς Πλαταιέας εἶναι καὶ Ὑσιάς. 
+ἔδοσαν μὲν δὴ οἱ Πλαταιέες σφέας αὐτοὺς 
+᾿Αθηναίοισι τρόπῳ τῷ εἰρημένῳ, ἧκον δὲ τότε ἐς 
+Μαραθῶνα βοηθέοντες. 
+
+109, Τοῖσι δὲ ᾿Αθηναίων στρατηγοῖσι ἐγίνοντο 
+δίχα αἱ γνῶμαι, τῶν μὲν οὐκ ἐώντων συμβαλεῖν 
+(ὀλίγους γὰρ εἶναι στρατιῇ τῇ Μήδων συμβάλ- 
+λειν) τῶν δὲ καὶ Μιλτιάδεω κελευόντων. ὡς δὲ 
+δίχα.τε ἐγίνοντο καὶ ἐνίκα 7) τοις τῶν γνωμέων, 
+ἐνθαῦτα, ἦν. γὰρ ἐνδέκατος ψηφιδ οφόρος ὁ τῷ 
+κυάμῳ λαχὼν ᾿Αθηναίων πολεμαρχέειν (τὸ πα- 
+
+
+1 The twelve gods were Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, Demeter, 
+Apollo, Artemis, Hephaestus, Athene, Ares, Aphrodite, 
+
+
+262 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 108-109 
+
+
+selves by making enemies of the Boeotians. The 
+Lacedaemonians, then, gave them this counsel ; the 
+Plataeans obeyed it, and when the Athenians were 
+sacrificing tothe twelve gods! they came as suppliants 
+and sat them down by the altar, and so put them- 
+selves under protection. Hearing of this the 
+Thebans sent an army against the Plataeans, and 
+the Athenians came to the Plataeans' aid; but 
+when they were about to join battle, the Corinthians 
+would not suffer them ; as they chanced to be there, 
+they made a reconciliation at the instance of both 
+the parties, and drew a frontier line on the condition 
+that the Thebans should not meddle with such 
+Boeotians as desired not to be reckoned as part 
+and parcel of Boeotia. Having given this judgment 
+the Corinthians took their departure ; but when the 
+Athenians were on their way home the Boeotians set 
+upon them and were worsted in the fight. The 
+Athenians then made a frontier beyond that which 
+had been assigned by the Corinthians for the Pla- 
+taeans, and set the Asopus itself for the Theban 
+border on the side of Plataea and Hysiae.—In the 
+manner aforesaid the Plataeans had put themselves 
+in the protection of the Athenians, and now they 
+came to Marathon to aid them. 
+
+109. But the counsels of the Athenian generals 
+were divided ; some advised that they should not 
+fight, thinking they were too few to do battle with 
+the Median army, and some, of whom was Miltiades, 
+that they should. Now there was an eleventh that 
+had a vote, namely, that Athenian who had been 
+
+
+Hermes, Hestia. The βωμὸς was a central altar in the agora, 
+from which distances were reckoned. 
+
+
+263 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+λαιὸν γὰρ ᾿Αθηναῖοι ὁμόψηφον τὸν πολέμαρχον 
+ἐποιεῦντο τοῖσι στρατηγοῖσι), ἦν δὲ τότε πολέ- 
+µαρχος Καλλίμαχος ᾽Αφιδναῖος. πρὸς τοῦτον 
+ἐλθὼν Μιλτιάδης ἔλεγε τάδε. “Ἔν σοὶ νῦν Καλ.- 
+λίμαχε ἐστὶ ἢ καταδουλῶσαι ᾿Αθήνας ἡ ἐλευθέρας 
+ποιήσαντα μνημόσυνα λιπέσθαι ἐς τὸν ἅπαντα 
+ἀνθρώπων βίον οἷα οὐδὲ ᾿Αρμόδιός τε καὶ Api- 
+στογείτων λείπουσι. νῦν γὰρ δὴ ἐξ οὗ ἐγένοντο 
+᾿Αθηναῖοι ἐς κίνδυνον ἥκουσι μέγιστον, καὶ ἦν 
+μέν γε ὑποκύψωσι τοῖσι Μήδοισι, δέδοκται τὰ 
+πείσονται παραδεδομένοι Ἱππίῃ, ἣν δὲ περιγένη- 
+ται αὕτη ἡ πόλις, οἵη τε ἐστὶ πρώτη τῶν Ἑλληνί- 
+δων πολίων γενέσθαι. κῶς ὧν δὴ ταῦτα οἷά τε 
+ἐστὶ γενέσθαι, καὶ κῶς ἐς σέ τοι τούτων ἀνήκει 
+τῶν πρηγμάτων τὸ κῦρος ἔχειν, νῦν ἔρχομαι φρά- 
+σων. ἡμέων τῶν στρατηγῶν ἐόντων δέκα δίχα 
+γίνονται αἱ γνῶμαι, τῶν μὲν κελευόντων τῶν δὲ οὗ 
+συμβάλλειν. ἣν μέννυν μὴ συμβάλωμεν, ἔλπομαι 
+τινὰ στάσιν μεγάλην διασείσειν ἐμπεσοῦσαν τὰ 
+᾿Αθηναίων φρονήματα ὥστε μηδίσαι" jv δὲ cvp- 
+βάλωμεν πρίν τι καὶ σαθρὸν ᾿Αθηναίων μετεξε- 
+τέροισι ἐγγενέσθαι, θεῶν τὰ ἴσα νεμόντων οἷοί τε 
+εἰμὲν περιγενέσθαι τῇ συμβολῇ. ταῦτα ὧν πάντα 
+ἐς σὲ νῦν τείνει καὶ ἐκ σέο ἤρτηται. ἦν γὰρ σὺ 
+γνώμῃ τῇ ἐμῇ προσθῇ, ἐ ἔστι τοι πατρίς τε : ἐλευθέρη | 
+καὶ πόλις πρώτη τῶν ἐν τῇ Ἑλλάδι: ἦν δὲ τὴν 
+τῶν ἀποσπευδόντων τὴν συμβολὴν ἕλῃ, ὑπάρξει 
+τοι τῶν ἐγὼ κατέλεξα ἀγαθῶν τὰ ἐναντία.᾽ 
+
+110. Ταῦτα λέγων ὁ Μιλτιάδης προσκτᾶται 
+τὸν Καλλίμαχον' προσγενομένης δὲ τοῦ πολεμάρ- 
+264 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 109-110 
+
+
+chosen as polemarch! by lot,—for by old Athenian 
+custom the polemarch voted among the generals, — 
+and at this time the polemarch was Callimachus of 
+Aphidnae ; so their counsels being divided and the 
+worse opinion like to prevail, Miltiades betook him- 
+self to this man.  * Callimachus," said he, “it is for 
+you to-day to choose, whether you will enslave 
+Athens, or free her and thereby leave such a 
+memorial for all posterity as was left not even by 
+Harmodius and Aristogiton. For now is Athens in 
+greater peril than ever since she was first a city ; 
+and if her people bow their necks to the Medes, 
+their fate is certain, for they will be delivered over 
+to Hippias; but if our city be saved, she may well 
+grow to be the first of Greek cities. How then this 
+can be brought about, and how it comes that the 
+deciding voice in these matters is yours, I will now 
+show you. We ten generals are divided in counsel, 
+some bidding us to fight and some to forbear. Now 
+if we forbear to fight, it is likely that some great 
+schism will rend and shake the courage of our people 
+till they make friends of the Medes ; but if we join 
+battle before some at Athens be infected by corrup- 
+tion, then let heaven but deal fairly with us, and we 
+may well win in this fight. It is you that all this 
+concerns; all hangs on you; for if you join yourself 
+to my opinion, you make your country free and your 
+city the first in Hellas; but if you choose the side of 
+them that would persuade us not to fight, you will 
+have wrought the very. opposite of the blessings 
+whereof I have spoken." | 
+
+110. By this plea Miltiades won Callimachus to be 
+his ally; and with the polemarch’s vote added it 
+
+
+1 One of the nine archons, all chosen by lot. 
+
+
+265 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+χου τῆς γνώμης ἐκεκύρωτο συμβάλλειν. μετὰ δὲ 
+οἱ στρατηγοὶ τῶν ἡ γνώµη ἔφερε συμβάλλειν, ὡς 
+ἑκάστου αὐτῶν ἐγίνετο πρυτανηίη τῆς ἡμέρης, 
+Μιλτιάδη παρεδίδοσαν' ὃ δὲ δεκόµενος οὔτι κω 
+συμβολὴν ἐποιέετο, πρίν γε δὴ αὐτοῦ πρυτανηΐη. 
+ἐγένετο. 
+
+111. Ὡς δὲ ἐς ἐκεῖνον περιῆλθε, ἐνθαῦτα δὴ 
+ἐτάσσοντο ὧδε οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι, ὡς συμβαλέοντες" τοῦ 
+μὲν δεξιοῦ κέρεος ἡγέετο ὁ πολέμαρχος Καλλί- 
+μαχος' ὁ γὰρ νόμος τότε εἶχε οὕτω τοῖσι ᾿Αθη- 
+ναίοισι, τὸν πολέμαρχον ἔχειν κέρας τὸ δεξιόν’ 
+ἡγεομένου δὲ τούτου ἐξεδέκοντο ὡς ἀριθμέοντο αἱ 
+φυλαὶ ἐχόμεναι, ἀλληλέων, τελευταῖοι δὲ ἐτάσ- 
+σοντο ἔχοντες τὸ εὐώνυμον κέρας Πλαταιέες. ἀπὸ 
+ταύτης [γάρ] σφι τῆς μάχης, ᾿Αθηναίων θυσίας 
+ἀναγόντων ἐς τὰς πανηγύριας τὰς ἐν τῇσι πεντετη- 
+ρίσι γινομένας, κατεύχεται ὁ κῆρυξ ὁ ᾿Αθηναῖος 
+ἅμα τε ᾿Αθηναίοισι λέγων γίνεσθαι τὰ ἀγαθὰ καὶ 
+Πλαταιεῦσι. τότε δὲ τασσομένων τῶν ᾿Αθηναίων 
+ἐν τῷ Μαραθῶνι ἐγίνετο τοιόνδε τι' τὸ στρατό- 
+πεδον ἐξισούμενον τῷ Μηδικῷ στρατοπέδῳ, τὸ 
+μὲν αὐτοῦ μέσον ἐγίνετο ἐπὶ τάξιας ὀλίγας, ᾽ καὶ 
+ταύτῃ EL ἀσθενέστατον τὸ στρατόπεδον, τὸ δὲ 
+κέρας ἑκάτερον ἔρρωτο πληθεὶ. 
+
+112. Ὡς δέ σφι διετέτακτο καὶ τὰ σφάγια ἐ ἐγί- 
+νετο καλά, ἐνθαῦτα ὡς ἀπείθησαν οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι 
+δρόμῳ i ἵεντο ἐς τοὺς βαρβάρους. ἦσαν δὲ στάδιοι 
+οὐκ ἐλάσσονες τὸ μεταίχμιον αὐτῶν ἢ ὀκτώ. οἱ 
+δὲ Πέρσαι ὁρέοντες δρόμῳ ἐπιόντας παρεσκευά- 
+ἕοντο ὡς δεξόμενοι, μανίην τε τοῖσι ᾿Αθηναίοισι 
+ἐπέφερον καὶ πάγχυ ὀλεθρίην, ὀρέοντες αὐτοὺς 
+
+
+266 
+
+
+BOOK VI. r1o-112 
+
+
+was resolved to fight. Thereafter the generals 
+whose counsel was for fighting made over to Mil- 
+tiades the day's right of leading that fell to each 
+severally ;! he received it, but would not join battle - 
+till the day of his own leadership came round. 
+
+111. When his turn came, then were the Athenians 
+arrayed for battle as I shall show : the right wing 
+was commanded by Callimachus the polemarch ; for 
+it was then the Athenian custom, that the holder of 
+that office should have the right wing. He being 
+there captain, next to bim came the tribes one after 
+another in the order of their numbers ?; last of all the 
+Plataeans were posted on the left wing. Ever since 
+that fight, when the Athenians bring sacrifices to the 
+assemblies that are held at the five-yearly festivals,’ 
+-the Athenian herald prays that all blessings may be 
+granted to Athenians and Plataeans alike. But now, 
+when the Athenians were arraying at Marathon, it 
+so fell out that their line being equal in length to 
+the Median, the middle part of it was but a few 
+ranks deep, and here the line was weakest, each wing 
+being strong in numbers. 
+
+112. Their battle being arrayed and the omens of 
+sacrifice favouring, straightway the Athenians were 
+let go and charged the Persians at a run. There 
+was between the armies a space of not less than 
+eight furlongs. When the Persians saw them coine 
+running they prepared to receive them, deeming the 
+Athenians frenzied to their utter destruction, who 
+
+
+1 Each general seems to have been generalissimo in turn. 
+
+2 There was a fixed official order ; but Plutarch’s account 
+of the battle places certain tribes according to a different 
+system. Perhaps the battle-order was determined by lot. 
+
+3 e. g. the great Panathenaea, and the festival of Poseidon. 
+
+
+267 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὀλίγους καὶ τούτους δρόμῳ ἐπειγομένους, οὔτε ἵπ- 
+που ὑπαρχούσης σφι οὔτε τοξευμάτων. ταῦτα 
+μέν νυν οἱ βάρβαροι κατείκαξον" ᾿Αθηναῖοι δὲ 
+- ἐπείτε ἀθρόοι προσέμιξαν ᾿ τοῖσι βαρβάροισι, ἐ ἐμά- 
+χοντο ἀξίως λόγου. πρῶτοι μὲν γὰρ Ἑλλήνων 
+πάντων τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν δρόμῳ ἐς πολεμίους ἐχρή- 
+σαντο, πρῶτοι δὲ ἀνέσχοντο ἐσθῆτά τε Μηδικὴν 
+ὁρέοντες καὶ τοὺς ἄνδρας ταύτην ἡσθημένους" τέως 
+δὲ - ἦν τοῖσι "Ἕλλησι καὶ τὸ οὔνομα τὸ Μήδων 
+φόβος ἀκοῦσαι. 
+
+119. Μαχομένων δὲ ἐν τῷ Μαραθῶνι χρόνος 
+ἐγίνετο πολλός, καὶ τὸ ) μὲν μέσον τοῦ στρατοπέδου 
+ἐνίκων οἱ βάρβαροι, τῇ Πέρσαι τε αὐτοὶ καὶ Σάκαι 
+ἐτετάχατο' κατὰ τοῦτο μὲν δὴ ἐνίκων οἱ βάρβαροι 
+καὶ ῥήξαντες ἐδίωκον ἐς τὴν μεσόγαιαν, τὸ δὲ 
+κέρας ἑκάτερον. ἐνίκων ᾿Αθηναῖοί τε καὶ Πλαταιέες" 
+νικῶντες δὲ τὸ μὲν τετραμμένον τῶν βαρβάρων 
+φεύγειν ἔων; τοῖσι δὲ τὸ μέσον ῥήξασι αὐτῶν 
+συναγαγόντες τὰ κέρεα, ἀμφότερα ἐμάχοντο, καὶ 
+ἐνίκων ᾿Αθηναῖοι. φεύγουσι δὲ τοῖσι Πέρσῃσι 
+εἵποντο κόπτοντες, ἐς ὃ ἐς τὴν θάλασσαν ἀπικό- 
+μενοι πῦρ τε αἴτεον καὶ ἐπελαμβάνοντο τῶν νεῶν. 
+
+114. Καὶ τοῦτο μὲν. ἐν τούτῳ τῷ πόνῳ ὁ πολέ- 
+μαρχος διαφθείρεται, ἀνὴρ γενόμενος ἀγαθός, ἀπὸ 
+δ᾽ ἔθανε τῶν στρατηγῶν Στησίλεως ὁ Θρασύλεω' 
+τοῦτο δὲ Κυνέγειρος ὁ Εὐφορίωνος, ἐνθαῦτα ἐπι- 
+λαμβανόμενος τῶν ἀφλάστων νεός, τὴν χεῖρα 
+ἀποκοπεὶς πελέκεϊ πίπτει, τοῦτο δὲ ἄλλοι ᾿Αθη- 
+ναίων πολλοί τε καὶ ὀνομαστοί. 
+
+115. Ἑπτὰ μὲν δὴ τῶν νεῶν ἐπεκράτησαν τρόπῳ 
+τοιῷδε ᾿Αθηναῖοι" τῇσι δὲ λοιπῆσι οἱ βάρβαροι 
+ἐξανακρουσάμενοι, καὶ ἀναλαβόντες ἐκ τῆς νήσου 
+268 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 112-115 
+
+
+being (as they saw) so few were yet charging thein 
+at speed, albeit they had no horsemen nor archers. 
+Such was the imagination of the foreigners; but the 
+Athenians, closing all together with the Persians, 
+fought in memorable fashion ; for they were the first 
+Greeks, within my knowledge, who charged their 
+enemies ,at a run, and the first who endured the 
+sight of Median garments and men clad therein ; 
+till then, the Greeks were affrighted by the very 
+name of the Medes. 
+
+113. For a long time they fought at Marathon; 
+and the foreigners overcame the middle part of the 
+line, against which the Persians themselves and the 
+Sacae were arrayed; here the foreigners prevailed 
+and broke the Greeks, pursuing them inland. But 
+on either wing the Athenians and Plataeans were 
+victorious; and being so, they suffered the routed of 
+their enemies to fly, and drew their wings together 
+to fight against those that had broken the middle of 
+their line; and here the Athenians had the victory, 
+and followed after the Persians in their flight, 
+hewing them down, till they came to the sea. 
+There they called for fire and laid hands on the 
+ships. 
+
+114. In this work was slain Callimachus the 
+polemarch, after doing doughty deeds; there too 
+died one of the generals, Stesilaus son of Thrasylaus ; 
+moreover, Cynegirus! son of Euphorion fell there, 
+his hand smitten off by an axe as he laid hold of a 
+ship's poop, and many other famous Athenians. 
+
+115. Seven ships the Athenians thus won; with 
+the rest the Persians pushed off from shore, and 
+
+
+1 Brother of the poet Aeschylus. 
+269 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐν τῇ ἔλιπον τὰ ἐξ Ερετρίης ἀνδράποδα, περι- 
+έπλεον Σούνιον, βουλόμενοι φθῆναι τοὺς ᾿Αθηναίους 
+ἀπικόμενοι ἐς τὸ ἄστυ. αἰτίην δὲ ἔ ἔσ xe. ἐν ᾿Αθη- 
+ναίοισι ἐξ ᾿Αλκμεωνιδέων μηχανῆς αὐτοὺς ταῦτα 
+ἐπινοησῆναι' τουτους γὰρ συνθεμένους τοῖσι Πέρ- 
+σῃσι ἀναδέξαι ἀσπίδα ἐ ἐοῦσι ἤδη ἐν τῇσι νηυσί. 
+
+116. Οὗτοι μὲν δὴ περιέπλεον Σούνιον: ᾿Αθη- 
+ναῖοι δὲ ὡς ποδῶν εἶχον τάχιστα ἐβοήθεον ἐς τὸ 
+ἄστυ, καὶ ἔφθησ ἀν τε ἀπικόμενοι πρὶν ἡ τοὺς 
+βαρβάρους ἥκειν, καὶ ἐστρατοπεδεύσαντο ἀπι- 
+γμένοι ἐξ Ἡρακλείου τοῦ ἐν Μαραθῶνι ἐν ἄλλῳ 
+“Ἡρακλείῳ τῷ ἐν Κυνοσάργεϊ. οἱ δὲ βάρβαροι 
+τῇσι νηυσὶ ὑπεραιωρηθέντες Φαλήρου, τοῦτο γὰρ 
+ἦν ἐπίνειον τότε τῶν. ᾿Αθηναίων, ὑπὲρ τούτου 
+ἀνακωχεύσαντες τὰς νέας ἀπέπλεον ὀπίσω ἐς τὴν 
+᾿Ασίην. . 
+
+117. ᾿Εν ταύτῃ τῇ ἐν Μαραθῶνι μάχῃ ἀπέθανον 
+τῶν βαρβάρων κατὰ ἑξακισχιλίους καὶ τετρα- 
+κοσίους ἄνδρας, ᾿Αθηναίων δὲ ἑκατὸν καὶ ἐνενή- 
+κοντα καὶ δύο. ἔπεσον μὲν ἀμφοτέρων, τοσοῦτοι. 
+συνήνεικε δὲ αὐτόθι θῶμα γενέσθαι τοιόνδε, ᾿Αόη- 
+ναῖον .ἄνδρα ᾿Επίζηλον τὸν Κουφαγόρεω ἐν τῇ 
+συστάσι μαχόμενόν τε καὶ ἄνδρα γινόμενον ἆγα- 
+θὸν τῶν ὀμμάτων στερηθῆναι οὔτε πληγέντα οὐδὲν 
+τοῦ σώματος οὔτε βληθέντα, καὶ τὸ λοιπὸν τῆς 
+Cons διατελέειν ἀπὸ τούτου τοῦ χρόνου. ἐόντα 
+τυφλόν. λέγειν δὲ αὐτὸν περὶ τοῦ πάθεος ἤ ἤκουσα 
+τοιόνδε τινὰ λόγον, ἄνδρα οἵ δοκέειν ὁπλίτην AVTI- 
+στῆναι μέγαν, τοῦ τὸ γένειον τὴν ἀσπίδα πᾶσαν 
+σκιάξειν' τὸ δὲ φάσμα τοῦτο ἑωυτὸν μὲν παρ- 
+εξελθεῖν, τὸν δὲ ἑωυτοῦ παραστάτην ἀποκτεῖναι. 
+ταῦτα μὲν δὴ ᾿Επίζηλον ἐπυθόμην λέγειν. 
+
+270 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 115-117 
+
+
+taking the Eretrian slaves from the island wherein 
+they had left them, sailed round Sunium, hoping to 
+win to the city before the Athenians' coming. There 
+was an accusation rife at Athens that this plan arose 
+from a device of the Alcmeonidae, who, it was said, 
+made a compact with the Persians and held up a 
+shield for them to see when they were now on 
+shipboard. 
+
+116. So they sailed round Sunium; but the 
+Athenians marched back with all speed to defend 
+their city, and outstripped the foreigners in their 
+coming ; they came from one precinct of Heracles at 
+Marathon, and encamped in another at Cynosarges. 
+The foreign fleet lay a while off Phalerum, which 
+was then the Athenians' arsenal ; there they anchored, 
+and thence sailed away back to Asia. 
+
+117. In this fight at Marathon there were slain of 
+the foreigners about six thousand four hundred men, 
+and of the Athenians a hundred and ninety-two. 
+These are the numbers of them that fell on both 
+sides. And it fell out that a marvellous thing 
+happened: a certain Athenian, Epizelus son of 
+Cuphagoras, while he fought doughtily in the 
+mellay lost the sight of his eyes, albeit neither 
+stabbed in any part nor shot, and for the rest of 
+his life continued blind from that day. I heard 
+that he told the tale of this mishap thus: a tall 
+man-at-arms (he said) encountered him, whose 
+beard spread all over his shield; this ‘apparition 
+passed Epizelus by, but slew his neighbour in the 
+line. Such was the tale Epizelus told, as I heard. 
+
+
+271 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+118. Δᾶτις δὲ πορευόµενος ἅμα τῷ στρατῷ ἐς 
+τὴν ᾿Ασίην, ἐπείτε ἐγένετο ἐν Μυκόνῳ, εἶδε ὄψιν 
+ἐν τῷ ὕπνῳ. καὶ ἥτις μὲν ἣν ἡ ὄψις, οὐ λέγεται" 
+ὃ δέ, ὡς ἡμέρη. τάχιστα ἐπέλαμψε, ζήτησιν 
+ἐποιέετο τῶν νεῶν, εὑρὼν δὲ ἐν νηὶ Φοινίσση 
+ἄγαλμα ᾿Απόλλωνος κεχρυσωμένον ἐπυνθάνετο 
+ὁκόθεν σεσυλημένον εἴη, πυθόμενος δὲ ἐξ οὗ ἦν 
+ἱροῦ, ἔπλεε τῇ ἑωυτοῦ νηὶ ἐς Δῆλον: καὶ ἀπίκατο 
+γὰρ τηνικαῦτα οἱ Δήλιοι ὀπίσω ἐς τὴν νῆσον, 
+κατατίθεταί τε ἐς τὸ ἱρὸν τὸ ἄγαλμα καὶ ἐντέλ.- 
+λεται τοῖσι Δηλίοισι ἀπαγαγεῖν τὸ ἄγαλμα ἐς 
+Δήλιον τὸ Θηβαίων: τὸ Ò ἔστι ἐπὶ θαλάσσῃ 
+Χαλκίδος καταντίον. Δᾶτις μὲν δὴ ταῦτα ἐντει- 
+λάμενος ἀπέπλεε, τὸν δὲ ἀνδριάντα τοῦτον Δήλιοι 
+οὐκ ἀπήγαγον, ἀλλά μιν δι ἐτέων εἴκοσι Θηβαῖοι 
+αὐτοὶ ἐκ θεοπροπίου ἐκομίσαντο ἐπὶ Δήλιον. 
+
+119, Τοὺς δὲ τῶν ᾿Ερετριέων ἀνδραποδισμένους 
+Δᾶτίς τε καὶ ᾿Αρταϕρένης, d ὡς προσέσχον πρὸς τὴν 
+᾿Ασίην πλέοντες, ἀνήγαγον ἐς Σοῦσα. ᾿Βασιλεὺς 
+δὲ Δαρεῖος, πρὶν μὲν αἰχμαλώτους γενέσθαι τοὺς 
+᾿Ερετριέας, ἐνεῖχέ σφι δεινὸν χόλον, | ola ἀρξάντων 
+ἀδικίης προτέρων τῶν ᾿Ερετριέων" ἐπείτε δὲ εἶδε 
+σφέας ἀπαχθέντας παρ᾽ ἑωυτὸν καὶ ἑωυτῷ ὑ ὑπο- 
+χειρίους ἐόντας, ἐποίησε κακὸν ἄλλο οὐδέν, ἀλλὰ 
+σφέας. τῆς Κισσίης χώρης κατοίκισε ἐν σταθμῷ 
+ἑωυτοῦ τῷ οὔνομα ἐστὶ ᾿Αρδέρικκα, ἆ ἀπὸ μὲν Σού- 
+σων δέκα καὶ διηκοσίους σταδίους ἀπέχοντι, τεσ- 
+σεράκοντα δὲ ἀπὸ τοῦ φρέατος τὸ παρέχεται 
+τριφασίας Seas: καὶ γὰρ ἄσφαλτον καὶ ἅλας καὶ 
+ἔλαιον ἀρύσσονται ἐξ αὐτοῦ τρόπῳ τοιῷδε" AVT- 
+λέεται μὲν κηλωνηίῳ, ἀντὶ δὲ γαυλοῦ ἥμισυ ἀσκοῦ 
+οἱ προσδέδεται' ὑποτύψας δὲ τούτῳ ἀντλέει. καὶ 
+272 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 118-119 
+
+
+118. Datis journeyed with his army to Asia; and 
+being arrived at Myconos he saw a vision in his 
+sleep. What that vision was, no man says; but as 
+soon as day broke, Datis made search through his 
+ships; and finding in a Phoenician ship a gilt image 
+of Apollo, he enquired whence this plunder had 
+been taken. Learning from what temple it had 
+come, he sailed in his own ship to Delos; where, the 
+Delians being now returned to their island, Datis set 
+the image in the temple, and charged the Delians to 
+carry it away to the Theban place Delium, on the 
+sea-coast over against Chalcis. This charge given, 
+Datis sailed back. But the Delians never carried 
+that statue away; twenty years after that, the 
+Thebans brought it to Delium, being so commanded 
+by an oracle. 
+
+119. When Datis and Artaphrenes touched Asia 
+in their voyage, they carried the enslaved Eretrians 
+inland to Susa. Before the Eretrians were taken cap- 
+tive king Darius had been terribly wroth with them 
+for doing him unprovoked wrong ; but seeing them 
+brought before him and subject to him, he did 
+them no hurt, but gave them a domain of his own 
+called Ardericca in the Cissian land to dwell in ; this 
+place is two hundred and ten furlongs distant from 
+Susa, and forty from the well that is of three kinds, 
+whence men bring up asphalt and salt and oil. 
+This is the manner of their doing it:—a windlass is 
+used in the drawing, with half a skin made fast to it in 
+place of a bucket ; therewith he that draws dips into 
+
+
+275 
+VOL. III. T 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἔπειτα ἐγχέει ἐς δεξαμενήν' ἐκ δὲ ταύτης ἐς ἄλλο 
+διαχεόμενον τράπεται τριφασίας ὁδούς. καὶ ἡ 
+μὲν ἄσφαλτος. καὶ οἱ ἅλες πήγνυνται παραυτίκα" 
+τὸ δὲ ἔλαιον οἱ Πέρσαι καλέουσι τοῦτο ῥαδινάκην, 
+ἔστι δὲ μέλαν καὶ ὀδμὴν παρεχόμενον βαρέαν. 
+ἐνθαῦτα τοὺς ᾿Ερετριέας κατοίκισε βασιλεὺς, Δα- 
+ρεῖος, οἳ καὶ μέχρι ἐμέο εἶχον τὴν χώρην ταύτην, 
+φυλάσσοντες τὴν ἀρχαίην γλῶσσαν. τὰ μὲν δὴ 
+περὶ ᾿Ερετριέας ë ἔσχε οὕτω. 
+
+120. Λακεδαιμονίων δὲ ἧκον ἐς τὰς ᾿Αθήνας 
+δισχίλιοι μετὰ τὴν πανσέληνον, ἔχοντες σπουδὴν 
+πολλὴν καταλαβεῖν, οὕτω ὥστε τριταῖοι ἐκ Σπάρ- 
+της ἐγένοντο ἐν τῇ ᾿Αττικῇ. ὕστεροι δὲ ἀπικό- 
+μενοι τῆς συμβολῆς ἱμείροντο ὅμως θεήσασθαι 
+τοὺς Μήδους: ἐλθόντες δὲ ἐς τὸν Μαραθῶνα 
+ἐθεήσαντο. μετὰ δὲ αἰνέοντες ᾿Αθηναίους καὶ τὸ 
+ἔργον αὐτῶν ἀπαλλάσσοντο ὀπίσω. 
+
+121, Θῶμα δέ μοι καὶ οὐκ ἐνδέκομαι τὸν λόγον 
+᾿Αλκμεωνίδας ἄν κοτε ἀναδέξαι Πέρσῃσι ἐκ συν- 
+θήματος ἀσπίδα, βουλομένους i ὑπὸ βαρβάροισί τε 
+εἶναι ᾿Αθηναίους καὶ ὑπὸ ‘lamin: οἵτινες μᾶλλον 
+7 ὁμοίως Καλλίῃ τῷ Φαινίππου, “Ἱππονίκου δὲ 
+πατρί, φαίνονται μισοτύραννοι ἐόντες. Καλλίης 
+τε γὰρ μοῦνος ᾿Αθηναίων ἁπάντων ἐτόλμα, ὅκως 
+Πεισίστρατος ἐ ἐκπέσοι ἐκ τῶν ᾿Αθηνέων, τὰ χρή- 
+µατα αὐτοῦ κηρυσσόµενα ὑπὸ τοῦ δηµοσίου ὠνέ- 
+εσθαι, καὶ τἆλλα τὰ ἔχθιστα ἐς αὐτὸν πάντα 
+ἐμηχανᾶτο. 
+
+122. [Καλλίεω δὲ τούτου ἄξιον πολλαχοῦ μνή- 
+µην ἐστὶ πάντα τινὰ ἔχειν. τοῦτο μὲν γὰρ τὰ 
+προλελεγμένα, ὡς ἀνὴρ ἄκρος ἐλευθερῶν τὴν ma- 
+
+
+274 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 119-122 
+
+
+the well, and then pours into a tank, whence what 
+is drawn is poured into another tank, and goes three 
+ways ; the asphalt and the salt grow forthwith solid ; 
+the oil,! which the Persians call rhadinace, is dark 
+and evil-sinelling. There king Darius planted the 
+Eretrians, and they dwelt in that place till my time, 
+keeping their ancient language. Such was the fate 
+of the Eretrians. 
+
+120. After the full moon two thousand Lace- 
+daemonians came to Athens, making so great haste 
+to reach it that they were in Attica on the third 
+day from their leaving Sparta. Albeit they came 
+too late for the battle, yet they desired to see the 
+Medes ; and they went to Marathon and saw them. 
+Presently they departed back again, praising the 
+Athenians and their achievement. 
+
+121. It is to me a thing marvellous and incredible, 
+that the Alemeonidae could ever by agreement have 
+held up a shield as a sign for the Persians, desiring 
+to make Athens subject to foreigners and to 
+Hippias; for it is plain to see that they were 
+despot-haters as much as Callias (son of Phaenippus 
+and father of Hipponicus), ay, and even more than 
+he. Callias was the only Athenian who dared buy 
+Pisistratus' possessions when they were put up to 
+auction by the state after Pisistratus’ banishment 
+from Athens; and he devised other acts of bitter 
+enmity against him. 
+
+122.2 [This Callias is worthy of all men’s remem- 
+brance for many reasons: firstly, because he 
+so excellently freed his country, as I have said ; 
+
+1 Petroleum. 
+
+2 This chapter is generally held to be an interpolation ; it 
+
+
+is only found in one (not the best) class of the MSS., and 
+contains un-Herodotean words and phrases. 
+275 
+
+
+τ 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τρίδα" τοῦτο δὲ τὰ ἐν ᾿Ολυμπίῃ ἐποίησε" ἵππῳ 
+νικήσας, τεθρίππῳ δὲ δεύτερος γενόμενος, Πύθια 
+δὲ πρότερον ἀνελόμενος, ἐφανερώθη ἐς τοὺς " EN- 
+ληνας πάντας δαπάνῃσι μεγίστησι. τοῦτο δὲ 
+κατὰ τὰς ἑωυτοῦ θυγατέρας ἐούσας τρεῖς οἷός τις 
+ἀνὴρ ἐγένετο’ ἐπειδὴ γὰρ ἐγίνοντο γάμου ὡραῖαι, 
+ἔδωκέ σφι δωρεὴν μεγαλοπρεπεστάτην ἐκείνῃσί 
+τε ἐχαρίσατο" ἐκ γὰρ πάντων τῶν ᾿Αθηναίων τὸν 
+ἑκάστη ἐθέλοι ἄνδρα ἑωυτῇ ἐκλέξασθαι, ἔδωκε 
+τούτῳ τῷ ἀνδρί. ] 
+
+123. Καὶ οἱ ᾽Αλκμεωνίδαι ὁ ὁμοίως ἦ οὐδὲν ἦ ῆσσον 
+τούτου ἦσαν μισοτύραννοι. θῶμα ὧν μοι καὶ οὐ 
+προσίεμαι τὴν διαβολὴν τούτους γε ἀναδέξαι 
+ἀσπίδα, οἵτινες ἔφευγόν τε τὸν πάντα χρόνον τοὺς 
+τυράννους, ἐκ μηχανῆς τε τῆς τούτων ἐξέλιπον 
+Πεισιστρατίδαι τὴν τυραννίδα, καὶ οὕτω τὰς 
+᾿Αθήνας | οὗτοι ἦσαν οἱ ἐλευθερώσαντες πολλῷ 
+μᾶλλον Ü περ "Ἀρμόδιός τε καὶ ᾿Αριστογείτων, ὡς 
+ἐγὼ κρίνω. οἳ μὲν yap ἐξηγρίωσαν τοὺς ὑπολοί- 
+πους Πεισιστρατιδέων | Ἴππαρχον ἀποκτείναντες, 
+οὐδέ τι μᾶλλον ἔπαυσαν τοὺς λοιποὺς τυραννεύ- 
+οντας" ᾿Αλκμεωνίδαι δὲ ἐμφανέως ἠλευθέρωσαν, 
+εἰ δὴ οὗτοί γε ἀληθέως ἦσαν οἱ τὴν Πυθίην ἀνα- 
+πείσαντες προσημαίνειν Λακεδαιμονίοισι ἐλευθε- 
+ροῦν τὰς ᾿Αθήνας, ὥς μοι πρότερον δεδήλωται. 
+
+124. ᾿Αλλὰ γὰρ ἴσως τι ἐπιμεμφόμενοι Aq- 
+ναίων τῷ δήμῳ προεδίδοσαν τὴν πατρίδα. οὐ μὲν 
+ὧν ἦσαν σφέων ἄλλοι δοκιμώτεροι ἔ ἔν γε ᾿Αόη- 
+ναίοισι ἄνδρες οὐδ᾽ οἳ μᾶλλον ἐτετιμέατο. οὕτω 
+οὐδὲ λόγος αἱρέει, ἀναδεχθῆναι ἔκ γε ἂν τούτων 
+ἀσπίδα ἐπὶ τοιούτῳ λόγῳ. ἀνεδέχθη μὲν γὰρ 
+ἀσπίς, καὶ τοῦτο οὐκ ἔστι ἄλλως εἰπεῖν' ἐγένετο 
+276 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 122-124 
+
+
+secondly, for what he did at Olympia, where he won 
+a horse-race, and was second in a four-horse chariot- 
+race, having already won a Pythian prize, and was 
+the cynosure of all Hellas for the lavishness of his 
+spending; and thirdly, for his way of behaviour in 
+the matter of his three daughters. For when they 
+were of marriageable age, he gave them a most 
+splendid gift and one very pleasant to them, promis- 
+ing that each of them should wed that husband 
+whom she should choose for herself in all Athens.] 
+
+123. The Alemeonidae were despot-haters as much 
+as ever was Callias. Therefore it is to me a strange 
+and unbelievable accusation, that they of all men 
+should have held up a shield; for at all times they 
+shunned despots, and it was by their devising that 
+the sons of Pisistratus were deposed from their 
+despotism. Thus in my judgment it was they who 
+freed Athens much more than did Harmodius and 
+Aristogiton ; for these did but enrage the rest of. 
+Pisistratus’ kin by killing Hipparchus, and did 
+nought to end the rule of the rest of them ; but the © 
+Alemeonidae did most plainly set their country free, 
+if indeed it was in truth they by whose persuasion 
+the Pythian priestess signified to the  Lacedae- 
+monians that they should free Athens, as I have ere 
+now made plain. 
+
+124, Nay (one will say), but they bore perhaps 
+some grudge against the Athenian commonalty, and 
+therefore betrayed their country. But there were 
+none at Athens that were of better repute or more 
+honoured than they ; wherefore plain reason forbids 
+to believe that they of all men could have held the 
+shield aloft for any such cause. Indeed a shield 
+was held aloft, and that cannot be denied ; for the 
+
+
+277 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+/ Δ / Φ e 9 / , » / 
+γάρ' ὃς μέντοι ἦν ὁ ἀναδέξας, οὐκ ἔχω προσωτέρω 
+εἰπεῖν τούτων. 
+
+125. Οἱ δὲ ᾿Αλκμεωνίδαι ἦσαν μὲν καὶ τὰ av- 
+έκαθεν λαμπροὶ ἐν τῇσι ᾿Αθήνῃσι, ἀπὸ δὲ ᾿Αλκ- 
+μέωνος καὶ αὖτις Μεγακλέος ἐγένοντο καὶ κάρτα 
+λαμπροί. τοῦτο μὲν γὰρ ᾽Αλκμέων ὁ Μεγακλέος 
+τοῖσι ἐκ Σαρδίων Λυδοῖσι παρὰ Κροίσου ἀπικνεο- 
+μένοισι ἐπὶ τὸ χρηστήριον τὸ ἐν Δελφοῖσι συμ- 
+πρήκτωρ τε ἐγίνετο καὶ συνελάµβανε προθύμως, 
+καί pw Κροῖσος πυθόμενος τῶν Λυδῶν τῶν ἐς τὰ 
+χρηστήρια φοιτεόντων ἑ ἑωυτὸν εὖ ποιέειν μεταπέμ- 
+πεται ἐς Σάρδις, ἀπικόμενον δὲ δωρέεται χρυσῷ 
+τὸν ἂν δύνηται τῷ ἑωυτοῦ σώματι ἐξενείκασθαι 
+ἐσάπαξ. ὁ δὲ ᾽Αλκμέων πρὸς τὴν δωρεὴν ἐοῦσαν 
+τοιαύτην τοιάδε ἐπιτηδεύσας προσέφερε ἐνδὺς 
+κιθῶνα μέγαν καὶ κόλπον βαθὺν καταλιπόμενος 
+τοῦ κιθῶνος, κοθόρνους τε τοὺς εὕρισκε εὐρυτάτους 
+ἐόντας ὑποδησάμενος, jue ἐς τὸν θησαυρὸν ἐς τόν 
+οἱ κατηγέοντο. ἐσπεσὼν δὲ ἐς σωρὸν ψ ήγματος 
+πρῶτα μὲν παρέσαξε παρὰ τὰς κνήµας τοῦ χρυσοῦ 
+ὅσον ἐχώρεον οἱ κόθορνοι, μετὰ δὲ τὸν κόλπον 
+πάντα πλησάμενος τοῦ χρυσοῦ καὶ ἐς τὰς τρίχας 
+τῆς κεφαλῆς διαπάσας τοῦ ψήγματος καὶ ἄλλο 
+λαβὼν ἐ ἐς τὸ στόμα, ἐξήιε ἐκ τοῦ θησαυροῦ ἕλκων 
+μέν μόγις τοὺς κοθόρνους, παντὶ δὲ τεῷ οἰκὼς 
+μᾶλλον ἢ ἀνθρώπῳ' τοῦ τό τε στόμα ἐβέβυστο 
+καὶ πάντα ἐξώγκωτο. ἰδόντα δὲ τὸν Κροῖσον 
+γέλως ἐσῆλθε, καί οἱ πάντα τε ἐκεῖνα διδοῖ καὶ 
+πρὸς ἕτερα δωρέεται οὐκ ἐλάσσω ἐκείνων. οὕτω 
+μὲν ἐπλούτησε ἡ οἰκίη αὕτη μεγάλως, καὶ ὁ 
+᾿Αλκμέων οὗτος οὕτω τεθριπποτροφήσας Ὄλυμ- 
+πιάδα ἀναιρέεται. 
+
+278 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 124-125 
+
+
+thing was done; but who did it I know not, and 
+can say no further. 
+
+125. The Alemeonidae had been men of renown 
+in old time at Athens, and from the days of Alemeon 1 
+and also Megacles their renown increased. For 
+when the Lydians sent from Sardis came from 
+Croesus to the Delphic oracle, Alemeon son of 
+Megacles wrought with and zealously aided them; 
+so Croesus, hearing from the Lydians who visited 
+the oracle of Alemeon’s benefits to himself, sent for 
+him to Sardis, and there made him a gift of as much 
+gold as he could carry away at one time on his 
+person. Such being the gift, Alemeon planned and 
+practised a device : he donned a wide tunic, leaving 
+a deep fold in it, and shod himself with the most 
+spacious buskins that he could find, and so entered 
+the treasury whither he was guided. There, falling 
+upon a heap of gold-dust, first he packed by his legs 
+as much gold as his buskins would contain; then he 
+filled the fold of his tunic all full of gold and 
+strewed the dust among the hair of his head, and 
+took more of it into his mouth ; till when he came 
+out of the treasury, hardly dragging the weight of 
+his buskins, he was like anything rather than a 
+human creature, with his mouth crammed full and all 
+his body swollen. When Croesus saw him he fell a- 
+laughing, and gave him all the gold he already had 
+and as much more again. Thus that family grew 
+very rich, and Alemeon came to keep four-horse 
+chariots, and won therewith at Olympia. 
+
+
+1 Alemeon ‘flourished’ about 590; Croesus’ reign was 
+560—546 ; it was Megacles son of Alemeon, and not Alcmeon 
+himself, who was Croesus' contemporary. 
+
+
+279 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+126. Mera δὲ γενεῇ δευτέρῃ ὗ ὕστερον. Κλεισθένης 
+αὐτὴν 0 Σικυώνιος τύραννος ἐξήειρε, ὥστε πολλῷ 
+ὀνομαστοτέρην γενέσθαι ἐν τοῖσι Ἓλλησι ἢ πρό- 
+τερον ἦν. Κλεισθένεϊ γὰρ τῷ ᾿Αριστωνύμου τοῦ 
+Μύρωνος τοῦ ᾿Ανδρέω γίνεται θυράτηρ τῇ οὔνομα 
+ἦν ᾿Αγαρίστη. ταύτην ἠθέλησε, Ἑλλήνων ἁπάν- 
+των ἐξευρὼν τὸν ἄριστον, τούτῳ γυναῖκα προσ- 
+θεῖναι. Ὀλυμπίων ὧν ἐόντων καὶ νικῶν ἐν 
+αὐτοῖσι τεθρίππῳ ὁ ὁ Κλεισθένης κήρυγμα ἐποιή- 
+σατο, ὅστις Ἑλλήνων ἑωυτὸν ἀξιοῖ Κλεισθένεος 
+γαμβρὸν γενέσθαι, ἥκειν ἐς ἑξηκοστὴν ἡμέρην ἢ 
+καὶ πρότερον ἐς ικυῶνα, ὡς κυρώσοντος Κλει- 
+σθένεος τὸν ᾿γάμον ἐν ἐνιαυτῷ, ἀπὸ τῆς ἑξηκοστῆς 
+ἀρξαμένου ἡμέρης. ἐνθαῦτα' [θλλήνων ὅσοι σφίσι 
+τε αὐτοῖσι ἦσαν καὶ πάτρη ἐξωγκωμένοι, ἐφοίτεον 
+μνηστῆρες" τοῖσι Κλεισθένης καὶ δρόμον καὶ πα- 
+λαίστρην ποιησάμενος ἐ ἐπ᾽ αὐτῷ τούτῳ εἶχε. 
+
+127. ᾿Απὸ μὲν δὴ Ἰταλίης ἦλθε Σμινδυρίδης ὁ 
+Ἱπποκράτεος Συβαρίτης, ὃ ὃς ἐπὶ πλεῖστον δὴ χλι- 
+δῆς εἷς ἆ ἀνὴρ ἀπίκετο (ἡ δὲ Σύβαρις ἤκμαξε τοῦτον 
+τὸν χρόνον μάλιστα), καὶ Σιρίτης Δάμασος ᾽Αμύ- 
+ριος τοῦ σοφοῦ λεγομένου. παῖς. οὗτοι μὲν ἀπὸ 
+Ἰταλίης ἦλθον, ἐκ δὲ τοῦ κόλπου τοῦ Ιονίου 
+᾿Αμϕίμνηστος ᾿Επιστρόφου ᾿Επιδάμνιος' οὗτος 
+δὲ ἐκ τοῦ ᾿Ιονίου κόλπου. Αἰτωλὸς δὲ ἦλθε Τιτόρ- 
+µου τοῦ ὑπερφύντος τε "Ελληνας ἰσχύι καὶ φυ- 
+γόντος ἀνθρώπους ἐ ἐς τὰς ἐσχατιὰς τῆς Αἰτωλίέδος 
+χώρης, τούτου τοῦ Τυτόρμου ἀδελφεὸς. Μάλης. 
+ἀπὸ δὲ Πελοποννήσου Φείδωνος τοῦ ᾿Αργείων 
+τυράννου παῖς Λεωκήδης, Φείδωνος δὲ τοῦ τὰ ué- 
+τρα ποιήσαντος Πελοποννησίοισι καὶ ὑβρίσαντος 
+
+
+! Cleisthenes of Sicyon was contemporary with Alemeon. 
+280 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 126-127 
+
+
+126. Inthe next generation Cleisthenes! the despot 
+.of Sicyon raised that house yet higher, so that it 
+grew more famous in Hellas than it had formerly been. 
+For Cleisthenes son of Aristonymus, who was the son 
+of Myron, who was the son of Andreas, had one 
+daughter, whose name was Agariste. He desired to 
+wed her to the best man he could find in Hellas ; 
+wherefore, the Olympian games being then toward, 
+wherein he was victor in a race of four-horse 
+chariots, Cleisthenes made a proclamation, bidding 
+whatever Greek thought himself worthy to be his 
+son-in-law come on the sixtieth day from then or 
+earlier to Sicyon, where (said Cleisthenes) he would 
+make good his promise of marriage in a year from that 
+sixtieth day. Then all the Greeks who were proud 
+of themselves and their country came to ask the lady's 
+hand; whom, having that end in view, Cleisthenes 
+made to contend in running and wrestling. 
+
+127. From Italy came Smindyrides of Sybaris, son 
+of Hippocrates, the most luxurious liver of his day 
+(and Sybaris was then at the height of its prosperity), 
+and Damasus of Siris, son of that Amyris who was 
+called The Wise. These came from Italy; from the 
+Ionian Gulf, Amphimnestus son of Epistrophus, an 
+Epidamnian; he was of the Ionian Gulf. From 
+Aetolia came Males, the brother of that Titormus 
+who excelled all Greeks in strength, and fled from 
+the sight of men to the farthest parts of the Aeto- 
+lian land. From the Peloponnese came Leocedes, 
+son of Phidon the despot of Argos, that Phidon who 
+
+
+made weights and measures for the Peloponnesians,? 
+
+
+2 P. introduced the ‘‘ Aeginetan" system of weights and 
+measures. For the chronological difficulty connected with 
+this mention of him, see the commentators. 
+
+
+281 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μέγιστα δὴ Ελλήνων πάντων, ὃς ἐξαναστήσας 
+τοὺς ᾿Ηλείων ἀγωνοθέτας αὐτὸς τὸν ἐν Ὀλυμπίη 
+ἀγῶνα ἔθηκε: τούτου τε δὴ παῖς καὶ ᾿Αμίαντος 
+Λυκούργου ᾿Αρκὰς ἐκ Τραπεζοῦντος, καὶ Αζὴν ἐκ 
+Παίου πόλιος Λαφάνης Εὐφορίωνος τοῦ δεξαμένου 
+τε, ὡς λόγος ἐν ᾿Αρκαδίῃ λέγεται, τοὺς Διοσκού- 
+ρους οἰκίοισι καὶ ἀπὸ τούτου ξεινοδοκέοντος πάν- 
+τας ἀνθρώπους, καὶ ᾿Ηλεῖος Ὀνόμαστος ᾿Αγαίου. 
+οὗτοι μὲν δὴ ἐξ αὐτῆς Πελοποννήσου ἦλθον, ἐκ δὲ 
+᾿Αθηνέων ἀπίκοντο Μεγακλέης τε ὁ ᾿Αλκμέωνος 
+τούτου τοῦ παρὰ Κροῖσον ἀπικομένου, καὶ ἄλλος 
+Ἱπποκλείδης T ισάνδρου, πλούτῳ καὶ εἴδεῖ προφέ- 
+ρων ᾿Αθηναίων. ἀπὸ δὲ Ἐρετρίης ἀνθεύσης τοῦ- 
+τον τὸν χρόνον Λυσανίης" οὗτος δὲ ar EvBotns 
+μοῦνος. ἐκ δὲ Θεσσαλίης ἦλθε τῶν Σκοπαδέων 
+Διακτορίδης Κραννώνιος, ἐκ δὲ Μολοσσῶν” Άλκων. 
+128. Τοσοῦτοι μὲν ἐγένοντο οἱ μνηστῆρες. ἀπι- 
+κομένων δὲ τούτων ἐς τὴν προειρημένην ἡμέρην, 
+ὁ Κλεισθένης πρῶτα μὲν τὰς πάτρας τε αὐτῶν 
+ἀνεπύθετο καὶ γένος ἑκάστου, μετὰ δὲ κατέχων 
+ἐνιαυτὸν διεπειρᾶτο αὐτῶν τῆς τε ἀνδραγαθίης 
+καὶ τῆς ὀργῆς. καὶ παιδεύσιός τε καὶ τρόπον, καὶ 
+ἑνὶ ἑκάστῳ ἰὼν ἐς συνουσίην καὶ συνάπασι, καὶ 
+ἐς γυμνάσιά τε ἐξαγινέων ὅσοι ἦσαν αὐτῶν νεώ- 
+Tepot, καὶ τό γε μέγιστον, ἐν τῇ συνεστίῃ διεπει- 
+ρᾶτο' ὅσον γὰρ κατεῖχε χρόνον αὐτούς, τοῦτον 
+πάντα ἐποίεε καὶ ἅμα ἐξείνιζε μεγαλοπρεπέως. 
+καὶ δή κου μάλιστα τῶν μνηστήρων ἠρέσκοντο 
+οἱ ἀπ᾽ ᾿Αθηνέων ἀπιγμένοι, καὶ τούτων μᾶλλον 
+“Ἱπποκλείδης ὁ Τισάνδρου καὶ κατ᾽ ἀνδραγαθίην 
+ἐκρίνετο καὶ ὅτι τὸ ἀνέκαθεν τοῖσι ἐν Κορίνθῳ 
+Κυψελίδῃσι ἦν προσήκων. 
+282 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 127—128 
+
+
+and dealt more high-handedly than any other Greek ; 
+for he drove out the Elean stewards of the lists, and 
+ordered the contests at Olympia himself ; this man's 
+son now came; and Amiantus an Arcadian from 
+Trapezus, son of Lycurgus; and an Azenian from 
+the town of Paeus, Laphanes son of that Euphorion 
+who, as the Arcadian tale relates, gave lodging to 
+the Dioscuri, and from that time forward kept open 
+house for all men; and Onomastus from Elis, son of 
+Agaeus. These came from the Peloponnese itself ; 
+from Athens, Megacles, son of that Alemeon who 
+visited Croesus, and beside him Hippoclides son of 
+Tisandrus, the richest and goodliest man in Athens. 
+From Eretria, which at that time was prosperous, 
+Lysanias; he was the only man from Euboea; from 
+Thessaly came a Scopad, Diactorides of Crannon ; 
+and from the Molossians, Alcon. 
+
+128. Such was the roll of the suitors. When they 
+were come on the day appointed, Cleisthenes first 
+enquired the country and lineage of each; then he 
+kept them with him for a year, making trial of 
+their manly worth and temper and upbringing and 
+manner of life; this he did by consorting with them 
+alone and in company, putting the younger of them 
+to contests of strength, but especially watching their 
+demeanour at the common meal ; for as long as he 
+kept them with him he did all for them and enter- 
+tained them with magnificence. Now those of the 
+suitors that best pleased him were they who came 
+from Athens, and of these Hippoclides son of 
+Tisandrus was judged the foremost, both for his 
+manly worth and because by his lineage he was akin 
+to the Cypselid family of Corinth. 
+
+
+283 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+129. Ὡς δὲ ἡ η. κυρίη ἐγένετο τῶν ἡμερέων τῆς τε 
+κατακλίσιος τοῦ γάμου καὶ ἐκφάσιος αὐτοῦ Κλει- 
+σθένεος τὸν κρίνοι ἐκ πάντων, θύσας βοῦς ἑκατὸν 
+ὁ Κλεισθένης εὐώχεε αὐτούς τε τοὺς μνηστῆρας 
+καὶ Σικυωνίους πάντας. ὡς δὲ ἀπὸ δείπνου ἐγί- 
+νοντο, οἱ μνηστῆρες ἔριν εἶχον ἀμφί τε μουσικῇ 
+καὶ τῷ λεγομένῳ ἐς τὸ μέσον. προϊούσης δὲ τῆς 
+πόσιος κατέχων πολλὸν τοὺς ἄλλους ὁ Ἱπποκλεί- 
+Ons ἐκέλευσέ οἱ τὸν αὐλητὴν αὐλῆσαι ἐμμελείην, 
+πειθομένου δὲ τοῦ -αὐλητέω ὀρχήσατο. καί κως 
+ἑωυτῷ μὲν ἀρεστῶς ὀρχέετο, o Κλεισθένης δὲ 
+ὀρέων ὅλον τὸ πρῆγμα ὑπώπτευε. μετὰ δὲ ἐπι- 
+σχὼν ὃ Ἱπποκλείδης χρόνον ἐκέλευσε τινὰ τρά- 
+πεζαν ἐσενεῖκαι, ἐσελθούσης δὲ τῆς τραπέζης 
+πρῶτα μὲν ἐπ᾽ αὐτῆς ὀρχήσατο Λακωνικὰ σχη- 
+μάτια, μετὰ. δὲ ἄλλα ᾿Αττικά, τὸ τρίτον δὲ τὴν 
+κεφαλὴν ἐρείσας ἐπὶ τὴν τράπεξαν τοῖσι σκέλεσι 
+ἐχειρονόμησε. Κλεισθένης δὲ τὰ μὲν πρῶτα καὶ 
+τὰ δεύτερα ὀρχεομένου, ἀποστυγέων γαμβρὸν ἄν 
+οἱ ἔ ἔτι .γενέσθαι Ἱπποκλείδεα διὰ τήν τε ὄρχησιν 
+καὶ τὴν ἀναιδείην, κατεῖχε ἑωυτόν, οὐ Βουλόμενος 
+ἐκραγῆναι ἐς αὐτόν" ὡς δὲ εἶδε τοῖσι σκέλεσι 
+χειρονομήσαντα, οὐκέτι κατέχειν δυνάμενος εἶπε 
+“O παῖ Τισάνδρου, à ἀπορχήσαό γε μὲν τὸν γάμον." 
+ὁ δὲ Ἱπποκλείδης ὑπολαβὼν eime “Οὐ φροντὶς 
+Ἱπποκλείδη. ἀπὸ τούτου μὲν τοῦτο ὀνομάζεται. 
+
+180. Κλεισθένης δὲ σιγὴν ποιησάμενος ἔλεξε ἐς 
+μέσον τάδε. 'Άνδρες παιδὸς τῆς ἐμῆς μνηστῆρες, 
+ἐγὼ καὶ πάντας ὑμέας. ἐπαινέω καὶ πᾶσι ὑμῖν, εἰ 
+οἷόν τε εἴη, χαριξοίµην à ἄν, μήτ᾽ ἕνα ὑμέων ἐξαίρετον 
+ἀποκρίνων μήτε τοὺς λοιποὺς ἀποδοκιμάξων. ἀλλ᾽ 
+οὐ γὰρ οἷά τε ἐσγὶ μιῆς πέρι παρθένου βουλεύοντα 
+
+
+254 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 129-130 
+
+
+129. When the day appointed came for the 
+marriage feast to be held and Cleisthenes himself 
+to declare whom he chose out of all, Cleisthenes 
+sacrificed a hundred oxen and gave a feast to the 
+suitors themselves and the whole of Sicyon. After 
+dinner the suitors vied with each other in music and 
+social discourse. As they sat late drinking, Hippo- 
+clides, now far outdoing the rest, bade the flute- 
+player play him music, and when the flute-player 
+so did, he began to dance; and he pleased himself 
+marvellous well with his dancing; but Cleisthenes 
+saw the whole business with much disfavour. After 
+a while, Hippoclides bade a table be brought; when 
+it came he danced on it Laconian first and then 
+Attic figures; last of all he rested his head on the 
+table and made gestures with his legs in the air. 
+Now Cleisthenes at the first and the second bout 
+of dancing could no more bear to think of Hippo- 
+clides as his son-in-law, for his dancing and his 
+shamelessness; yet he had held himself in check, 
+not willing to vent his wrath on Hippoclides; but 
+when he saw him making gestures with his legs, he 
+could no longer keep silence, but cried, “’Tis very 
+well, son of Tisandrus, but you have danced yourself 
+out of your marriage." Whereat quoth the other, 
+* Hippoclides cares nought for that!" which is a 
+byword from that day. 
+
+130. Then Cleisthenes bade them all be silent, 
+and spoke to the company at large. “Suitors for 
+my daughter's hand," said he, * I thank you one and 
+all; and were it possible I would grant each of you 
+his wish, neither choosing out one to set him above 
+another nor disparaging the rest. But seeing that 
+I have but one damsel to plan for and so cannot 
+
+
+285 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+πᾶσι κατὰ νόον ποιέειν, τοῖσι μὲν ὑμέων ἀπελαυ- 
+νομένοισι τοῦδε τοῦ γάμου τάλαντον ἀργυρίου 
+ἑκάστῳ δωρεὴν δίδωμι τῆς ἀξιώσιος εἵνεκα τῆς ἐξ 
+ἐμεῦ γῆμαι καὶ τῆς ἐξ οἴκου ἀποδημίης, τῷ δὲ 
+᾿Αλκμέωνος Μεγακλέι -ἐγγυῶ παῖδα τὴν ἐμὴν 
+᾿Αγαρίστην νόμοισι τοῖσι ᾿Αθηναίων." φαμένου 
+δὲ ἐγγυᾶσθαι Μεγακλέος ἐκεκύρωτο ὁ γάμος 
+Κλεισθένεϊ. 
+
+19]. Appi μὲν κρίσιος τῶν μνηστήρων τοσαῦτα 
+ἐγένετο καὶ οὕτω ᾿Αλκμεωνίδαι ἐβώσθησαν ἀνὰ 
+τὴν Ελλάδα. τούτων δὲ συνοικησάντων γίνεται 
+Κλεισθένης τε ὁ τὰς φυλὰς καὶ τὴν δημοκρατίην 
+᾿Αθηναίοισι καταστήσας, ἔχων τὸ οὔνομα ἀπὸ τοῦ 
+μητροπάτορος τοῦ Σικυωνίου' οὗτός τε δὴ γίνεται 
+Μεγακλέϊ καὶ Ἱπποκράτης, ἐκ δὲ Ἱπποκράτεος 
+Μεγακλέης τε ἄλλος καὶ ᾿Αγαρίστη ἄλλη ἀπὸ 
+τῆς Κλεισθένεος ᾿Αγαρίστης ἔχουσα τὸ οὔνομα' 
+ἣ συνοικήσασά τε Ξανθίππῳ τῷ ᾿Αρίϕρονος καὶ 
+ἔγκυος ἐοῦσα εἶδε ὄψιν ἐν τῷ ὕπνῳ, ἐδόκεε δὲ 
+λέοντα τεκεῖν, καὶ μετ᾽ ὀλίγας ἡμέρας τίκτει 
+Περικλέα Ξανθίππῳ. 
+
+132. Μετὰ δὲ τὸ ἐν Μαραθῶνι τρῶμα γενόμενον 
+Μιλτιάδης, καὶ πρότερον εὐδοκιμέων παρὰ ᾿Αθη- 
+ναίοισι, τότε μᾶλλον αὔξετο. αἰτήσας δὲ νέας 
+ἑβδομήκοντα καὶ στρατιήν τε καὶ «χρήματα ᾿ ᾿Αόη- 
+vaious, οὐ φράσας σφι ἐπ᾽ ἣν ἐπιστρατεύσεται 
+χώρην, ἀλλὰ φὰς αὐτοὺς καταπλουτιεῖν ἤν οἱ 
+ἕπωνται" ἐπὶ γὰρ χώρην τοιαύτην δή τινα ἄξειν 
+ὅθεν «χρυσὸν εὐπετέως ἄφθονον οἴσονται' λέγων 
+τοιαῦτα αἴτεε τὰς νέας. ᾿Αθηναῖοι δὲ τούτοισι 
+ἐπαερθέντες παρέδοσαν. 
+
+138. Παραλαβὼν δὲ ὁ Μιλτιάδης τὴν στρατιὴν 
+286 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 130-133 
+
+
+please all of you, to those of you whose suit is 
+rejected I make a gift of a talent of silver to each, 
+for his desire to take a wife from my house and for 
+his sojourn away from his home ; and to Megacles 
+son of Alemeon do,I betroth my daughter Agariste, 
+as by Athenian law ordained.” Megacles accepted 
+the betrothal, and so Cleisthenes made good his 
+promise of the marriage. 
+
+131. Such is the tale of the choice among the 
+suitors; and thus the fame of the Alcmeonidae was 
+noised abroad in Hellas. Of this marriage was born 
+that Cleisthenes (so called after him of Sicyon, his 
+mother's father) who gave the Athenians their tribes 
+and their democratic state ; he and Hippocrates were 
+born to Megacles; Hippocrates was father of another 
+Megacles and another Agariste, called after Agariste 
+who was Cleisthenes' daughter ; she, being wedded 
+to Xanthippus son of Ariphron, and with child, saw 
+a vision in her sleep whereby she thought she gave 
+birth to alion. In a few days she bore Xanthippus 
+a son, Pericles. 
+
+133. After the Persian disaster at Marathon, the 
+fame of Miltiades, which had before been great at 
+Athens, was increased. He asked of the Athenians 
+seventy ships and an army and money, not telling 
+them against what country he would lead them, 
+but saying that he would make them rich men if 
+they followed him; for he would bring them to 
+a country whence they should easily carry away 
+abundance of gold; so he promised when he asked 
+for the ships; which the Athenians, being thus 
+assured, gave him. 
+
+133. Miltiades took his army and sailed for Paros, 
+
+
+287 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἔπλεε ἐπὶ Πάρον, πρόφασιν ἔχων ὡς οἱ Πάριοι 
+ὑπῆρξαν πρότεροι στρατευόμενοι τριήρεσι ἐς Μα- 
+ραθῶνα à ἅμα τῷ Πέρση. τοῦτο μὲν δὴ πρόσχημα 
+λόγων ἣν, ἀτάρ τινα καὶ ἔγκοτον εἶχε τοῖσι 
+Παρίοισι διὰ Λυσαγόρεα τὸν Τισίεω, ἐόντα γένος 
+Πάριον, διαβαλόντα μιν πρὸς Ὑδάρνεα τὸν Πέρ- 
+av. ἀπικόμενος δὲ ἐπ᾽ ἣν ἔπλεε ὁ Μιλτιάδης τῇ 
+στρατιῇ ἐπολιόρκεε Hapious κατειλημένους ἐντὸς 
+τείχεος, καὶ ἐσπέμπων κήρυκα αἴτεε ἑκατὸν τά- 
+λαντα, pas, ἤν μιν οὐ δῶσι, οὐκ ἀπονοστήσειν 
+τὴν στρατιὴν πρὶν ἢ ἐξέλῃ σφέας. οἱ δὲ Πάριοι 
+ὅκως μέν τι δώσουσι Μιλτιάδη ἀργύριον οὐδὲ 
+διενοεῦντο, οἳ δὲ ὅκως διαφυλάξουσι τὴν πόλιν 
+τοῦτο ἐμηχανῶντο, ἄλλα τε ἐπιφραξόμενοι καὶ τῇ 
+μάλιστα ἔσκε ἑκάστοτε ἐπίμαχον τοῦ τείχεος, 
+τοῦτο ἅμα νυκτὶ ἐξηείρετο διπλήσιον τοῦ ἀρχαίου. 
+
+194. 'Es μὲν δὴ τοσοῦτο τοῦ λόγου οἱ πάντες 
+"Ἕλληνες λέγουσι, τὸ ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ αὐτοὶ Πάριοι 
+γενέσθαι ὧδε λέγουσι. Μιλτιάδῃ ἀπορέοντι ἐλ- 
+θεῖν ἐς λόγους αἰχμάλωτον γυναῖκα, ἐοῦσαν μὲν 
+Παρίην γένος, οὔνομα δέ οἱ εἶναι Τιμοῦν, εἶναι δὲ 
+ὑποξάκορον τῶν χθονίων θεῶν" ταύτην ἐλθοῦσαν 
+ἐς ὄψιν Μιλτιάδεω συμβουλεῦσαι, εἰ περὶ πολλοῦ 
+ποιέεται Ἡ άρον ἑλεῖν, τὰ ἂν αὐτὴ ὑποθῆται, ταῦτα 
+ποιέειν. .μετὰ δὲ τὴν μὲν ὑποθέσθαι, τὸν δὲ διερ- 
+χόµενον ἐπὶ τὸν κολωνὸν τὸν πρὸ τῆς πόλιος ἐόντα 
+ἕρκος θεσμοφόρου Δήμητρος ὑπερθορεῖν, οὐ δυνά- 
+μενον τὰς θύρας ἀνοῖξαι, ὑπερθορόντα δὲ ἰ Leva ἐπὶ 
+τὸ μέγαρον ὅ τι δὴ ποιήσοντα ἐντός, εἴτε κινή- 
+σοντά τι τῶν ἀκινήτων εἴτε ὅ τι δή κοτε πρήξοντα" 
+πρὸς τῇσι θύρῃσί τε γενέσθαι καὶ πρόκατε φρίκης 
+αὐτὸν ὑπελθούσης ὀπίσω τὴν αὐτὴν ὁδὸν ἵεσθαι, 
+288 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 133-134 
+
+
+on the pretext that the Parians had brought this on 
+themselves by first sending triremes with the Persian 
+fleet to Marathon. Such was the pretext whereof 
+he spoke; but he had a grudge against the Parians 
+because Lysagoras son of Tisias, a man of Parian 
+descent, had made ill blood between him and Hy- 
+darnes the Persian. Having come to the place to 
+which he sailed, Miltiades with his army drove the 
+Parians within their walls and there besieged them ; 
+and sending in a herald he demanded a hundred 
+talents, which (said he) if they would not give him, 
+his army should not return before it had stormed 
+their city. The Parians had no thought at all of 
+giving any money to Miltiades, and had no other 
+purpose but to defend their city, which they did by 
+building their wall at night to double its former 
+height where it was most assailable, and also by 
+other devices. 
+
+134. As far as this all Greeks tell the same story ; 
+thenceforward this is the tale as it is told by the 
+Parians themselves: Miltiades (they say) being in a 
+quandary, a Parian slave woman named Timo, who 
+was an under-priestess of the goddesses of the dead, 
+had speech with him ; coming before Miltiades, she 
+counselled him, if he set great store by the taking of 
+Paros, to do as she should advise him. Presently, 
+at her advice, he passed through to the hill before 
+the'city, and there he climbed over the fence of the 
+precinct of Demeter the Lawgiver,—not being able 
+to open the door, —and having so done went to the 
+shrine, whether to move something that should not 
+be moved, or with some other intent; but when he 
+was at the very door he was seized straightway by 
+panic fear and returned by the same way ; and in 
+
+
+289 
+VOL, III. U 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+καταθρώσκοντα δὲ τὴν αἱμασιὴν τὸν μηρὸν σπα- 
+σθῆναι"' ot δὲ αὐτὸν τὸ γόνυ προσπταῖσαι λέγουσι. 
+
+135. Μιλτιάδης μέν vuv φλαύρως € ἔχων ἀπέπλεε 
+ὀπίσω, οὔτε χρήματα ᾿Αθηναίοισι ἄγων οὔτε 
+IIdpov προσκτησάµενος, ἀλλὰ πολιορκήσας τε ἓξ 
+καὶ εἴκοσι ἡμέρας καὶ δηιώσας τὴν νῆσον. Πάριοι 
+δὲ πυθόμενοι ὡς 7 ὑποξάκορος, τῶν θεῶν Τιμὼ 
+Μιλτιάδῃ κατηγήσατο, βουλόμενοί NE ἀντὶ 
+τούτων τιμωρήσασθαι, θεοπρόπους πέμπουσι ἐς 
+Δελφούς ὥς σφεας ἡσυχίη τῆς πολιορκίης ἔσχε' 
+ἔπεμπον δὲ ἐ ἐπειρησομένους εἰ καταχρήσωνται τὴν 
+κ οι τῶν θεῶν τὴν ἐξηγησαμένην τοῖσι 
+
+ἐχθροῖσι τῆς πατρίδος ἅλωσιν καὶ τὰ ἐς ἔρσενα 
+γόνον ἄρρητα ἱρὰ ἐκφήνασαν Μιλτιάδῃ. ἡ δὲ 
+Πυθίη οὐκ ἔα, φᾶσα οὐ Τιμοῦν εἶναι τὴν αἰτίην 
+τούτων, ἀλλὰ δεῖν γὰρ Μιλτιάδεα τελευτᾶν μὴ 
+εὖ, φανῆναί οἱ τῶν κακῶν κατηγεμόνα. 
+
+136. Παρίοισι μὲν δὴ ταῦτα ἡ Πυθίη ἔχρησε: 
+᾿Αθηναῖοι δὲ ἐκ Πάρου Μιλτιάδεα ἀπονοστή- 
+σαντα ἔσχον. ἐν στόμασι οὗ τε ἄλλοι καὶ μάλιστα 
+Ἐκάνθιππος ὁ ᾿Αρίφρονος, ὃ ὃς θανάτου ὑπαγαγὼν 
+ὑπὸ τὸν δῆμον Μιλτιάδεα ἐδίωκε τῆς ᾿Αθηναίων 
+ἀπάτης εἵνεκεν. Μιλτιάδης δὲ αὐτὸς μὲν παρεὼν 
+οὐκ ἀπελογέετο' ἦν yap ἀδύνατος ὥστε σηπο- 
+μένου τοῦ μηροῦ' προκειμένου δὲ αὐτοῦ ἐν κλίνῃ 
+ὑπεραπελογέοντο οἱ φίλοι, τῆς μάχης τε τῆς 
+ἐν Μαραθῶνι γενομένης πολλὰ ἐπιμεμνημένοι 
+καὶ τὴν Λήμνου αἵρεσιν, ὡς ἑλὼν Afjuvóv τε καὶ 
+τισάμενος τοὺς Πελασγοὺς παρέδωκε ᾿Αθηναίοισι. 
+προσγενομένου δὲ τοῦ δήμου αὐτῷ κατὰ τὴν 
+ἀπόλυσιν τοῦ θανάτου, ζημιώσαντος δὲ κατὰ τὴν 
+ἀδικίην πεντήκοντα ταλάντοισι, Μιλτιάδης μὲν 
+200 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 134-136 
+
+
+leaping down from the wall he twisted his thigh, or 
+as some say took a blow on his knee. 
+
+135. So Miltiades sailed back home in sorry 
+plight ; for he brought no wealth, nor had he won 
+Paros; he had besieged the town for six-and-twenty 
+days and laid waste the island. The Parians, 
+learning that Timo the under-priestess of the 
+goddesses had been Miltiades’ guide, desired to 
+punish her for this, and having now rest from the 
+siege sent messengers to Delphi to enquire if they 
+should put the under-priestess to death for having 
+compassed the taking of her country by guiding its 
+enemies, and revealing to Miltiades the rites that 
+no male should know. But the Pythian priestess 
+forbade them ; it was not Timo, she said, that was 
+in fault, but Miltiades was doomed to make an ill 
+end, and an apparition had guided him in these evil 
+courses. 
+
+196. Such was the priestess’ reply to the Parians ; 
+but when Miltiades returned back from Paros many 
+tongues were let loose against him at Athens; and 
+Xanthippus son of Ariphron impeached him before 
+the people, calling for the penalty of death for the 
+deceit which he had practised on the Athenians. 
+Miltiades ‘was present, but could not speak in his 
+own defence, his thigh being mortified ; but he was 
+laid before the court on a bed, and his friends spoke 
+for him, ever calling to mind the fight at Marathon 
+and the conquest of Lemnos,—how Miltiades had 
+punished the Pelasgians and taken Lemnos and 
+delivered it to the Athenians. The people took his 
+side in so far as they would not condemn him to 
+death, but they fined him fifty talents for his wrong- 
+doing. Presently Miltiades died of the gangrene 
+
+201 
+
+v 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μετὰ, ταῦτα σφακελίσαντός τε τοῦ μηροῦ καὶ 
+σαπέντος τελευτᾷ, τὰ δὲ πεντήκοντα τάλαντα 
+ἐξέτισε ὁ παῖς αὐτοῦ Κίμων. 
+
+197. Λῆμνον δὲ Μιλτιάδης ὁ ὀ Κίμωνος ὧδε ἔ ἔσχε. 
+Πελασγοὶ ἐπείτε ἐκ τῆς ᾿Αττικῆς ὑπὸ ᾿Αθηναίων 
+ἐξεβλήθησαν, εἴτε ὧν δὴ δικαίως εἴτε ἀδίκως" τοῦτο 
+γὰρ οὐκ ἔχω φράσαι, πλὴν τὰ λεγόμενα, ὅ ὅτι ‘Exa- 
+ταῖος μὲν ὁ Ἠγησάνδρου ἔφησε ἐν τοῖσι λόγοισι 
+λέγων ἀδίκως" ἐπείτε γὰρ ἐδεῖν τοὺς ᾿Αθηναίους 
+τὴν χώρην, τὴν σφίσι αὐτοῖσι ὑπὸ τὸν Ὕ μησσὸν 
+ἐοῦσαν ἔδοσαν Πελασγοῖσι οἰκῆσαι μισθὸν τοῦ 
+τείχεος τοῦ περὶ τὴν ἀκρόπολιν κοτὲ ἐληλαμένου, 
+ταύτην ὡς ἰδεῖν τοὺς ᾿Αθηναίους ἐξεργασμένην 
+εὖ, τὴν πρότερον εἶναι κακήν τε καὶ τοῦ μηδενὸς 
+ἀξίην, λαβεῖν φθόνον τε καὶ ἵμερον τῆς γῆς, καὶ 
+οὕτω ἐξελαύνειν αὐτοὺς οὐδεμίαν ἄλλην πρόφασιν 
+προϊσχομένους τοὺς ᾿Αθηναίους. ὡς δὲ αὐτοὶ 
+᾿Αθηναῖοι λέγουσι, δικαίως ἐξελάσαι. κατοι- 
+κημένους γὰρ τοὺς Πελασγοὺς ὑπὸ τῷ Ὕμησσώ, 
+ἐνθεῦτεν ὁρμωμένους ἀδικέειν τάδε. φοιτᾶν γὰρ 
+αἰεὶ τὰς σφετέρας θυγατέρας τε καὶ τοὺς παῖδας 
+ἐπ E. ἐπὶ THY ᾿Εννεάκρουνον' οὐ γὰρ εἶναι τοῦτον 
+τὸν Χρόνον σφίσι κω οὐδὲ τοῖσι ἄλλοισι Ἕλλησι 
+οἰκέτας᾽ ὅκως δὲ ἔλθοιεν αὗται, τοὺς Πελασγοὺς 
+ὑπὸ ὕβριός τε καὶ ὀλιγωρίης βιᾶσθαι σφέας. 
+καὶ ταῦτα μέντοι σφι οὐκ ἀποχρῶν ποιέειν, ἀλλὰ 
+τέλος καὶ ἐπιβουλεύοντας ἐπιχείρησιν φανῆναι 
+ἐπ αὐτοφώρῳ. ἑωυτοὺς δὲ γενέσθαι τοσούτῳ 
+ἐκείνων ἄνδρας ἀμείνονας, ὅσῳ, παρεὸν ἑωυτοῖσι 
+ἀποκτεῖναι τοὺς Πελασγούς, ἐπεί σφεας ἔλα- 
+βον ἐπιβουλεύοντας, οὐκ ἐθελῆσαι, ἀλλά σφι 
+
+
+1 The Pelasgians were driven into Attica by the Boeotian 
+
+
+292 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 136-137 
+
+
+and mortification of his thigh, and the fifty talents 
+were paid by his son Cimon. 
+
+137. Now this is how Miltiades son of Cimon won 
+Lemnos. When the Pelasgians! were cast out of 
+Attica by the Athenians, whether justly or unjustly, 
+—as to that I can say nothing, beyond what is 
+recorded, namely, that Hecataeus the son of 
+Hegesandrus declares in his history that the act was 
+unjust; for (says Hecataeus) when the Athenians 
+saw the land under Hymettus which, being their 
+own, they had given to the Pelasgians as a dwelling- 
+place in reward for the wall that had once been 
+built round the acropolis,——when the Athenians saw 
+how well this place was tilled which erewhile had 
+been bad and worthless, they grudged and coveted 
+the land, and so drove the Pelasgians out on this 
+and no other pretext. But the Athenians them- 
+selves say that their reason for expelling the 
+Pelasgians was just. The Pelasgians, they say, 
+issued out from their settlement at the foot of 
+Hymettus and dealt wrongfully with the Athenians 
+in this wise: neither the Athenians nor any other 
+dwellers in Hellas had as yet servants at that time, 
+aud their sons and daughters resorted to the Nine 
+Wells? for water; and whenever they came, the 
+Pelasgians maltreated them out of mere arrogance 
+and pride. Nor yet were they content with so 
+doing, but at last were caught in the act of planning 
+to attack Athens. The Athenians, by their own 
+showing, dealt 5ο much more rightly than the 
+- Pelasgians, that when they might have killed them, 
+caught plotting as they were, they would not so do, 
+
+
+immigration, about sixty years after the Trojan war according 
+to legend. 
+2 S. E. of Athens, near the Ilissus. 
+
+
+293 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+προειπεῖν ἐκ τῆς γῆς ἐξιέναι. τοὺς δὲ οὕτω δὴ 
+ἐκχωρήσαντας ἄλλα τε σχεῖν χωρία καὶ δὴ καὶ 
+Λῆμνον. ἐκεῖνα μὲν δὴ “Εκαταῖος ἔλεξε, ταῦτα 
+δὲ ᾿Αθηναῖοι λέγουσι. 
+
+138. Οἱ δὲ Πελασγοὶ οὗτοι Λῆμνον τότε 
+νεμόμενοι καὶ βουλόμενοι τοὺς ᾿Αθηναίους τιµω- 
+ρήσασθαι, εὖ τε ἐξεπιστάμενοι τὰς ᾿Αθηναί- 
+ων ὁρτάς, πεντηκοντέρους κτησάμενοι ἐλόχησαν 
+᾿Αρτέμιδι ἐν Βραυρῶνι ἀγούσας ὁρτὴν τὰς τῶν 
+᾿Αθηναίων γυναῖκας, ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ ἁρπάσαντες 
+τουτέων πολλὰς οἴχοντο ἀποπλέοντες, καί σφεας 
+ἐς Λῆμνον ἀγαγόντες παλλακὰς εἶχον. ὡς δὲ 
+τέκνων αὗται αἱ γυναῖκες ὑπεπλήσθησαν, γλῶσ- 
+σάν τε τὴν ᾿Αττικὴν καὶ τρόπους τοὺς ᾿Αθηναίων 
+ἐδίδασκον τοὺς παῖδας. οἳ δὲ οὔτε συμμίσγεσθαι 
+τοῖσι ἐκ τῶν Πελασγίδων γυναικῶν παισὶ ἤθελον, 
+εἴ τε τύπτοιτό τις αὐτῶν ὑπ᾽ ἐκείνων τινός, ἐβοή- 
+θεόν τε πάντες καὶ ἐτιμώρεον ἀλλήλοισι" καὶ δὴ 
+καὶ ἄρχειν τε τῶν παίδων οἱ παῖδες ἐδικαίευν 
+καὶ πολλῷ ἐπεκράτεον. μαθόντες δὲ ταῦτα οἱ 
+Πελασγοὶ ἑωυτοῖσι λόγους ἐδίδοσαν' καί σφι 
+βουλευομένοισι δεινόν τι ἐσέδυνε, εἰ δὴ διαγινώ- 
+σκοιεν σφίσι τε βοηθέειν οἱ παῖδες πρὸς τῶν 
+κουριδιέων γυναικῶν τοὺς παῖδας καὶ τούτων 
+αὐτίκα ἄρχειν πειρῴατο, τί δὴ ἀνδρωθέντες 
+δῆθεν ποιήσουσι. ἐνθαῦτα ἔδοξέ σφι κτείνειν 
+τοὺς παῖδας τοὺς ἐκ τῶν ᾿Αττικέων γυναικῶν. 
+ποιεῦσι δὴ ταῦτα, προσαπολλύουσι δὲ σφέων καὶ 
+τὰς μητέρας. ἀπὸ τούτου δὲ τοῦ ἔργου καὶ τοῦ 
+προτέρου τούτων, τὸ ἐργάσαντο αἱ γυναῖκες τοὺς 
+ἅμα Θόαντι ἄνδρας σφετέρους ἀποκτείνασαι, 
+νενόμισται ava τὴν Ἑλλάδα τὰ σχέτλια ἔργα 
+πάντα Λήμνια καλέεσθαι... 
+
+294 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 137-138 
+
+
+but bade them depart out of the country. There- 
+upon the Pelasgians departed, and took Lemnos in 
+possession, besides other places. This is the 
+Athenian story; the other is told by Hecataeus. 
+
+138. These Pelasgians, dwelling at that time in 
+Lemnos and desiring vengeance on the Athenians, 
+and well knowing the time of the Athenian festivals, 
+got them fifty-oared ships and lay in ambush for the 
+Athenian women when they were celebrating a 
+festival for Artemis at Brauron ; carrying off many of 
+the women, they sailed away further with them and 
+brought them to Lemnos to be their concubines. 
+Now as these women bore more and more children, 
+they taught their sons the speech of Attica and 
+Athenian manners. These boys would not consort 
+with the sons of the Pelasgian women; if one of 
+themselves were beaten by one of the others, they 
+would all run to his aid and help each other; nay, 
+the Athenian-bred boys even claimed to rule the 
+others, and were much the stronger than they. 
+When the Pelasgians perceived that, they took 
+counsel together; and it troubled them much in 
+their counsels to think what the boys would do 
+when they grew to man’s estate, if they were 
+resolved to help each other against the sons of the 
+lawful wives and essayed to rule them forthwith. 
+Thereupon the Pelasgians judged it best to slay the 
+sons of the Attic women; and this they did, and 
+slew the boys’ mothers likewise. From this and the 
+former deed which was done by the women, when 
+they slew their own husbands who were Thoas’ 
+companions, a * Lemnian crime ” has been a proverb 
+in Hellas for any deed of cruelty. 
+
+
+205 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+139. ᾿Αποκτείνασι δὲ τοῖσι Πελασγοῖσι τοὺς 
+σφετέρους παῖδάς τε καὶ γυναῖκας οὔτε γῆ καρπὸν 
+ἔφερε οὔτε γυναῖκές τε καὶ ποῖμναι ὁμοίως ἔγικτον 
+καὶ πρὸ τοῦ. πιεζόμενοι δὲ λιμῷ καὶ ἀπαιδίῃ 
+ἐς Δελφοὺς ἔπεμπον λύσιν τινὰ αἰτησόμενοι τῶν 
+παρεόντων κακῶν. ἡ δὲ Πυθίη σφέας ἐκέλευε 
+᾿Αθηναίοισι δίκας διδόναι ταύτας τὰς ἂν αὐτοὶ 
+᾿Αθηναῖοι δικάσωσι. ἦλθόν τε δὴ ἐς τὰς ᾿Αθήνας 
+οἱ Πελασγοὶ καὶ δίκας ἐπαγγέλλοντο βουλόμενοι 
+διδόναι παντὸς τοῦ ἀδικήματος. ᾿Αθηναῖοι δὲ 
+ἐν τῷ πρυτανηίῳ κλίνην στρώσαντες ὡς εἶχον 
+κάλλιστα καὶ τράπεξαν ἐπιπλέην ἀγαθῶν πάντων 
+παραθέντες, ἐκέλευον τοὺς Πελασγοὺς τὴν χώρην 
+σφίσι παραδιδόναι οὕτω ἔχουσαν. οἱ δὲ Ile- 
+λασγοὶ ὑπολαβόντες εἶπαν τ Ἐπεὰν βορέῃ ἀνέμῳ 
+αὐτημερὸν ἐξανύσῃ νηῦς ἐκ τῆς ὑμετέρης ἐς τὴν 
+
+ἡμετέρην, τότε παρα. ώσομεν, ἐπιστάμενοι τοῦτο 
+εἶναι ἀδύνατον γενέσθαι. ἡ yàp ᾿Αττικὴ πρὸς 
+νότον κέεται πολλὸν τῆς Λήμνου. 
+
+140. Τότε μὲν τοιαῦτα" ἔτεσι δὲ κάρτα πολ- 
+λοῖσι ὕστερον τούτων, ὡς ἡ Χερσόνησος ἡ ἐπ᾿ 
+E λλησπόντῳ ἐγένετο ὑπὸ ᾿Αθηναίοισι, Μιλτιάδης 
+ὁ Κίμωνος ἐτησιέων ἀνέμων κατεστηκότων νηὶ 
+κατανύσας ἐξ ᾿Ελαιοῦντος τοῦ ἐν Χερσονήσῳ ἐς 
+Λῆμνον προηγόρευε ἐξιέναι ἐκ τῆς νήσου τοῖσι 
+Πελασγοῖσι, ἀναμιμνήσκων σφέας τὸ χρηστήριον, 
+τὸ οὐδαμὰ ἤλπισαν σφίσι οἱ Πελασγοὶ ἐπιτελέ- 
+εσθαι. Ἡφαιστιέες μέν νυν ἐπείθοντο, Μυριναῖοι 
+δὲ οὐ συγγινωσκόμενοι εἶναι τὴν, Χερσόνησον 
+᾿Αττικὴν ἐπολιορκέοντο, ἐς ὃ καὶ οὗτοι παρέστη- 
+
+
+σαν. οὕτω δὴ τὴν Λῆμνον ἔσχον ᾿Αθηναῖοί τε 
+καὶ Μιλτιάδης. 
+
+
+200 
+
+
+BOOK VI. 139-140 
+
+
+139. But when the Pelasgians had slain their own 
+sons and the women, their land brought forth no- 
+fruit, nor did their wives and their flocks and herds 
+bear offspring as before. Under stress of hunger 
+and childlessness they sent to Delphi to ask for 
+some way of release from their present ills; and the 
+Pythian priestess bidding them pay the Athenians 
+whatsoever penalty the Athenians themselves should 
+adjudge, the Pelasgians went to Athens and offered 
+to pay the penalty for all their wrong-doing. The 
+Athenians set in their town-hall a couch adorned to 
+the best of their power, with a table thereby covered 
+with all manner of good things, and said to the 
+Pelasgians, * Deliver your land to us in a like 
+state" ; whereto the Pelasgians answered, * We will 
+deliver it when a ship shall accomplish her voyage 
+with a north wind from your country to ours in one 
+day” ; this they said, well assured that the thing was 
+impossible ; for Attica is far to the south of Lemnos. 
+
+140. This and no more was then said. But a 
+great many years afterward, when the Chersonese 
+by the Hellespont was made subject to Athens, 
+Miltiades son of Cimon did, by virtue of the Etesian 1 
+winds then constantly blowing, accomplish the 
+voyage from Elaeus on the Chersonese to Lemnos; 
+which done, he issued a proclamation to the Pelas- 
+gians bidding them leave their island, reminding 
+them of the oracular word which the Pelasgians 
+thought they would never see fulfilled. The men 
+of Hephaestia, then, obeyed him; but they of 
+Myrina would not agree that the Chersonese was 
+Attic land, and they stood a siege; but in the end 
+they too submitted. Thus did Miltiades and the 
+Athenians take Lemnos in possession. 
+
+1 North-east winds, blowing in July, August, and 
+September. 
+
+297 
+
+
+Digitized by Google 
+
+
+BOOK VII 
+
+
+H 
+
+
+1. ᾿Επεὶ δὲ ἀγγελίη ἀπίκετο περὶ τῆς μάχης τῆς 
+ἐν Μαραθῶνι γενομένης παρὰ βασιλέα Δαρεῖον 
+τὸν Ὑστάσπεος, καὶ πρὶν μεγάλως κεχαραγμένον 
+τοῖσι ᾿Αθηναίοισι διὰ τὴν ἐς Σάρδις. ἐσβολήν, καὶ 
+δὴ καὶ τότε πολλῷ τε δεινότερα È ἐποίεε καὶ μᾶλλον 
+ὅρμητο στρατεύεσθαι ἐ ἐπὶ τὴν Ελλάδα. καὶ αὐτί- 
+κα μὲν ἐπηγγέλλετο πέμπων ἀγγέλους κατὰ πόλις 
+ἑτοιμάζειν στρατιήν, πολλῷ πλέω ἐπιτάσσων 
+ἑκάστοισι 7 πρότερον παρέχειν, καὶ νέας τε καὶ 
+ἵππους καὶ σῖτον καὶ πλοῖα. τούτων δὲ περι- 
+αγγελλομένων ἡ Acin ἐδονέετο ἐπὶ τρία ἔτεα, 
+καταλεγομένων τε τῶν ἀρίστων ὡς ἐπὶ τὴν 
+Ἑλλάδα στρατευοµένων καὶ παρασκευαξοµένων. 
+τετάρτῳ δὲ ἔτεϊ Αἰγύπτιοι ὑπὸ Καμβύσεω 
+δουλωθέντες ἀπέστησαν ἀπὸ Περσέων. ἐνθαῦτα 
+δὴ καὶ μᾶλλον ὅρμητο καὶ ἐπ᾽ ἀμφοτέρους 
+στρατεύεσθαι. 
+
+2, Στελλομένου δὲ Δαρείου ἐπ᾽ Αἴγυπτον καὶ 
+᾿Αθήνας, τῶν παίδων αὐτοῦ. στάσις ἐγένετο 
+μεγάλη περὶ τῆς ἡγεμονίης, ὡς δεῖ μιν ἀπο- 
+δέξαντα βασιλέα, κατὰ τὸν Περσέων νόμον οὕτω 
+στρατεύεσθαι. ἦσαν γὰρ Δαρείῳ καὶ πρότερον 
+ἢ βασιλεῦσαι γεγονότες τρεῖς παῖδες ἐκ τῆς 
+
+
+300 
+
+
+BOOK VII 
+
+
+1. WaEN the message concerning the fight at 
+Marathon came to Darius son of Hystaspes, greatly 
+wroth as he was already against the Athenians for 
+their attack upon Sardis, he was now much more 
+angered and the more desirous of sending an ex- 
+pedition against Hellas. Forthwith he sent mes- 
+sengers to all cities commanding the equipment of 
+an army, charging each to provide much more than 
+they had before provided of ships and horses and 
+provision and vessels of transport. By these mes- 
+sages Asia was shaken for three years,! the best men 
+being enrolled for service against Hellas and making 
+preparation therefor. In the fourth year the 
+Egyptians, whom Cambyses had enslaved, revolted 
+from the Persians; thereupon Darius was but the 
+more desirous of sending expeditions even against 
+both. 
+
+2. But while Darius was making preparation 
+against Egypt and Athens, there arose a great 
+quarrel among his sons concerning the chief power 
+in the land, they holding that he must before his 
+army marched declare an heir to the kingship 
+according to Persian law. For Darius had three sons 
+born to him before he became king by his first wife, 
+
+
+1 489—487. 
+301 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+προτέρης γυναικός, Γοβρύεω. θυγατρός, καὶ 
+βασιλεύσαντι. ἐξ ᾿Ατόσσης τῆς Κύρου ἕτεροι 
+τέσσερες. τῶν μὲν δὴ προτέρων ἐπρέσβευε 
+᾿Αρτοβαζάνης, τῶν δὲ ἐπιγενομένων Ἑέρξη». 
+ἐόντες δὲ μητρὸς οὐ τῆς αὐτῆς ἐστασίαζον, E 
+μὲν ᾿Αρτοβαξάνης κατότι πρεσβύτατός τε εἴη 
+παντὸς τοῦ γόνου καὶ ὅτι νομιζόμενον εἴη πρὸς 
+πάντων ἀνθρώπων τὸν πρεσβύτατον τὴν ἀρχὴν 
+ἔχειν, Ἐϊέρξης δὲ ὡς ᾿Ατόσσης τε παῖς εἴη τῆς 
+Κύρου θυγατρὸς καὶ ὅτι Κῦρος εἴη ὁ κτησάμενος 
+τοῖσι Πέρσῃσι τὴν. ἐλευθερίην. 
+
+3. Δαρείου δὲ οὐκ ἀποδεικνυμένου κω γνώμην, 
+ἐτύγχανε κατὰ τὠυτὸ τούτοισι καὶ Δημάρητος 
+ὁ ᾿Αρίστωνος ἀναβεβηκὼς ἐς Σοῦσα, ἐστερημένος 
+τε τῆς ἐν Σπάρτῃ βασιληίης; καὶ φυγὴν ἐπιβαλὼν 
+ἑωυτῷ ἐκ Λακεδαίμονος. οὗτος ὧνὴρ πυθόμενος 
+τῶν Δαρείου παίδων τὴν διαφορήν, ἐλθών, ὡς 
+ἡ φάτις μιν ἔχει, Ἑέρξπ. συνεβούλευε λέγειν 
+πρὸς τοῖσι ἔλεγε ἔπεσι, ὡς αὐτὸς μὲν γένοιτο 
+Δαρείῳ ἤδη βασιλεύοντι καὶ ἔχοντι τὸ Περσέων 
+κράτος, ᾿Αρτοβαξάνης δὲ € ἔτι ἰδιώτῃ ἐόντι Δαρείῳ" 
+οὔκων οὔτε οἰκὸς εἴη οὔτε δίκαιον ἄλλον τινὰ τὸ 
+γέρας ἔχειν πρὸ ἑωυτοῦ" ἐπεί ye. καὶ ἐν Σπάρτῃ 
+ἔφη ὁ Δημάρητος ὑποτιθέμενος οὕτω νομίξεσθαι, 
+ἦν ob μὲν προγεγονότες ἔωσι πρὶν ἢ τὸν πατέρα 
+σφέων βασιλεῦσαι, ὃ ὃ δὲ βασιλεύοντι ὀψύγονος 
+ἐπιγένηται, τοῦ ἐπιγενομένου τὴν ἔκδεξιν τῆς 
+βασιληίης γίνεσθαι. χρησαμένου δὲ Ἐέρξεω, τῇ 
+Δημαρήτου ὑποθήκῃ, γνοὺς ὁ Δαρεῖος ὡς λέγοι 
+δίκαια βασιλέα μιν ἀπέδεξε. δοκέειν δέ μοι, καὶ 
+ἄνευ ταύτης τῆς ὑποθήκης βασιλεῦσαι ἂν Ξέρξης 
+ἡ yàp Ατοσσα εἶχε τὸ πᾶν κράτος. 
+302 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 2-3 
+
+
+the daughter of Gobryas, and four besides after he 
+became king by Atossa daughter of Cyrus; of the 
+earlier sons Artobazanes was the eldest, and Xerxes 
+of the later ; and being sons of different mothers they 
+were rivals, Artobazanes pleading that he was the 
+eldest of all Darius' offspring and that it was every- 
+where customary that the eldest should rule ; Xerxes, 
+that he was son of Cyrus’ daughter Atossa and that 
+it was Cyrus who had won the Persians their 
+freedom. 
+
+3. Darius delaying his judgment in this matter, 
+it chanced that at this time Demaratus son of 
+Ariston had come up to Susa, banished of his own 
+will from Lacedaemon after he had lost the kingship 
+of Sparta. Learning of the contention between the 
+sons of Darius, this man, as the story goes, came and 
+counselled Xerxes to add to what he said another 
+plea, to wit, that he had been born when Darius was 
+already king and ruler of Persia, but Artobazanes 
+when Darius was yet a subject; therefore (Xerxes 
+should say) it was neither reasonable nor just that 
+any rather than he should have the royal prerogative ; 
+for at Sparta too (said Demaratus in his counselling) 
+it was ever customary, that if there be sons born 
+before their father became king, and another son 
+born later when the father was king, to the later- 
+born should fall the succession to the kingship. 
+Xerxes then following Demaratus' advice, Darius 
+judged his plea to be just and declared him king. 
+But to my thinking Xerxes would have been made 
+king even without this advice; for Atossa was all- 
+powerful. 
+
+
+393 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+4. ᾿Αποδέξας δὲ Βασιλέα Πέρσῃσι «Ἑέρξεα 
+Δαρεῖος ὁρμᾶτο στρατεύεσθαι. ἀλλὰ γὰρ μετὰ 
+ταῦτά τε καὶ Αἰγύπτου ἀπόστασιν τῷ ὑστέρῳ 
+ἔτεϊ παρασκευαξόμενον συνήνεικε αὐτὸν Δαρεῖον, 
+βασιλεύσαντα τὰ πάντα ἕξ τε καὶ τριήκοντα 
+ἔτεα, ἀποθανεῖν, οὐδέ οἱ ἐξεγένετο οὔτε τοὺς 
+ἀπεστεῶτας Αἰγυπτίους οὔτε ᾿Αθηναίους τιµωρή- 
+σασθαι. 
+
+5. ᾿Αποθανόντος δὲ Δαρείου ἡ βασιληίη av- 
+εχώρησε ἐς τὸν παῖδα τὸν ἐκείνου Ἐέρξην. ὁ 
+τοίνυν Ξέρξης ἐπὶ μὲν τὴν “Ελλάδα οὐδαμῶς 
+πρόθυμος ἦν κατ᾽ ἀρχὰς στρατεύεσθαι, ἐπὶ δὲ 
+Αἴγυπτον ἐποιέετο στρατιῆς ἄγερσιν. παρεὼν 
+δὲ καὶ δυνάμενος παρ᾽ αὐτῷ μέγιστον Περσέων 
+Μαρδόνιος ὁ ὁ Γοβρύεω, ὃ ὃς ἦν Ξέρξῃ μὲν ἀνεψιὸς 
+Δαρείου δὲ ἀδελφεῆς παῖς, τοιούτου λόγου εἴχετο, 
+λέγων e Δέσποτα, οὐκ οἰκός ἐστι ᾿Αθηναίους 
+ἐργασαμένους πολλὰ . δὴ κακὰ Πέρσας μὴ οὐ 
+δοῦναι δίκην τῶν ἐποίησαν. ἀλλ᾽ εἰ τὸ μὲν νῦν 
+ταῦτα πρήσσοις τά περ ἐν χερσὶ ἔχεις' ἡμερώσας 
+δὲ Αἴγυπτον τὴν ἐξυβρίσασαν στρατηλάτεε ἐπὶ 
+τὰς ᾿Αθήνας, ἵ ἶνα λόγος τέ σε ἔχη πρὸς ἀνθρώπων 
+ἀγαθός, καί τις ὕστερον φυλάσσηται ἐπὶ γῆν 
+τὴν σὴν στρατεύεσθαι." οὗτος μέν οἱ ὁ λόγος 
+ἦν τιμωρός" τοῦδε δὲ τοῦ λόγου παρενθήκην 
+ποιεέσκετο τήνδε, ὡς ἡ Εὐρώπη περικαλλὴς 
+εἴη χώρη, καὶ δένδρεα παντοῖα φέρει τὰ ἥμερα, 
+ἀρετήν τε ἄκρη, βασιλέι τε μούνῳ θνητῶν ἀξίη 
+ἐκτῆσθαι. 
+
+6. Ταῦτα ἔλεγε οἷα νεωτέρων ἔργων ἐπιθυμητὴς 
+ἐὼν καὶ θέλων αὐτὸς τῆς Ἑλλάδος Ü ὕπαρχος εἶναι. 
+χρόνῳ δὲ κατεργάσατὀ τε καὶ ἀνέπεισε ὥστε 
+
+
+304 
+
+
+-— 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 4-6 
+
+
+4. Having declared Xerxes king, Darius was intent ΄ 
+on his expedition. But in the year after this, and 
+the revolt of Egypt, death came upon him in the 
+midst of his preparation, after a reign of six aud 
+thirty years! in all; nor was it granted to him to 
+punish either the revolted Egyptians, or the 
+Athenians. 
+
+9. Darius being dead, the royal power descended 
+to his son Xerxes. Now Xerxes was at first by no 
+means eager to march against Hellas; it was against 
+Egypt that he mustered his army. But Mardonius 
+son of Gobryas, who was Xerxes' cousin and son 
+of Darius' sister, and was ever with the king and had 
+more influence with him than any Persian, reasoned 
+thus in his discourse: * Sire, it is not seemly that the 
+Athenians should go unpunished for their deeds, 
+after all the evil they have done to the Persians. 
+Nay, my counsel is that for the nonce you do what 
+you have in hand; then, when you have tamed the 
+insolence of Egypt, lead your armies against Athens, 
+that you may have fair fame among men, and that all 
+may in time to come beware how they invade your 
+realm." This argument of his was for vengeance’ 
+sake;? but he would ever slip a plea into it, that 
+Europe was an exceeding fair land, one that bore all 
+kinds of orchard trees, a land of high excellence, 
+worthy of no mortal master but the king. 
+
+6. This he said, because he desired adventures, 
+and would himself be viceroy of Hellas. And at the 
+last he so wrought upon and over-persuaded Xerxes 
+
+
+1 521—489. 
+2 Some take the Greek to mean *'this argument was his 
+helper"; but the statement seems rather pointless. 
+
+
+395 
+VOL. III. X 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ποιέειν ταῦτα Ξέρξην" συνέλαβε γὰρ καὶ ἄλλα 
+οἱ σύμμαχα γενόμενα ἐς τὸ πείθεσθαι Ἐέρξην. 
+τοῦτο μὲν ἀπὸ τῆς Θεσσαλίης παρὰ τῶν ᾿Αλευ- 
+αδέων ἀπιγμένοι ἄγγελοι ἐπεκαλέοντο βασιλέα 
+πᾶσαν προθυμίην, παρεχόμενοι ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα" 
+οἱ δὲ ᾿Αλευάδαι οὗτοι ἦσαν Θεσσαλίης βασιλέες. 
+τοῦτο δὲ Πεισιστρατιδέων οἱ ἀναβεβηκότες ἐς 
+Σοῦσα, τῶν τε αὐτῶν λόγων ἐχόμενοι τῶν καὶ 
+οἱ ᾿Αλευάδαι, καὶ δή τι πρὸς τούτοισι ἔτι πλέον 
+προσωρέγοντὀ ο ἔχοντες ᾿Ὀνομάκριτον ἄνδρα 
+᾿Αθηναῖον, χρησμολόγον τε καὶ διαθέτην χρησμῶν 
+τῶν Μουσαίου, ἀναβεβήκεσαν, τὴν ἔ θρην mpo- 
+καταλυσάμενοι. ἐξηλάσθη γὰρ ὑπὸ Ιππάρχου 
+τοῦ Πεισιστράτου 0 ᾿Ὀνομάκριτος ἐξ ᾿Αθηνέων, 
+ἐπ᾽ αὐτοφώρῳ ἁλοὺς ὑπὸ Λάσου τοῦ Ἑρμιονέος 
+ἐμποιέων ἐς τὰ Μουσαίου χρησμόν, ὡς αἱ ἐπὶ 
+Λήμνῳ ἐπικείμεναι νῆσοι ἀφανιξοίατο κατὰ τῆς 
+θαλάσσης. διὸ ἐξήλασέ μιν ὁ Ἵππαρχος, πρό- 
+τερον χρεώμενος τὰ μάλιστα. τότε δὲ συναναβὰς 
+ὅκως ἀπίκοιτο ἐς ὄψιν τὴν .Βασιλέος, .λεγόντων 
+τῶν Πεισιστρατιδέων περὶ αὐτοῦ σεμνοὺς λόγους, 
+κατέλεγε τῶν χρησμῶν: εἰ μέν τι ἐνέοι σφάλμα 
+φέρον τῷ βαρβάρῳ, τῶν μὲν ἔλεγε οὐδέν, ὃ 
+δὲ τ εὐτυχέστατα ἐκλεγόμενος ἔλεγε τόν τε 
+Ἑλλήσποντον ὡς ζευχθῆναι χρεὸν εἴη ὑπ᾽ ἀνδρὸς 
+Πέρσεω, τήν τε ἔλασιν ἐξηγεόμενος. οὗτός τε 
+δὴ χρησμῳδέων προσεφέρετο καὶ οἵ τε Πεισιστρα- 
+τίδαι καὶ οἱ ᾿Αλευάδαι γνώμας ἀποδεικνύμενοι. 
+
+7. Ὡς δὲ ἀνεγνώσθη Ξέρξης στρατεύεσθαι ἐπὶ 
+τὴν Ελλάδα, ἐνθαῦτα δευτέρῳ μὲν ἔτεϊ μετὰ τὸν 
+
+
+1 The word sometimes means ‘‘a diviner”; here, prob- 
+
+
+306 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 6-7 
+
+
+that the king was moved to do as he said ; for there 
+were other things too that allied themselves to aid in 
+winning Xerxes' consent. Firstly, there came mes- 
+sengers out of Thessaly from the Aleuadae (who 
+were princes of Thessaly) with all earnestness in- 
+viting the king into Hellas; and secondly, those of 
+the house of Pisistratus who had come up to Susa did 
+likewise, using the same pleas as the Aleuadae, and 
+offering Xerxes besides even more than they. With 
+these came Onomacritus, an Athenian oracle-monger,! 
+one that had set in order the oracles of Musaeus ; 
+with him they had come, being now reconciled to 
+him after their quarrel: for Onomacritus had been 
+banished from Athens by Pisistratus' son Hipparchus, 
+having been caught by Lasus? of Hermion in the act 
+of interpo¥ating in the writings of Musaeus an oracle 
+showing that the islands off Lemnos should disappear 
+into the sea. For this cause Hipparchus banished 
+him, though before that they had been close friends. 
+Now he came to Susa with Pisistratus' kin; and when- 
+soever he came into the king's presence they would 
+use high language concerning him and he would recite 
+from his oracles; all that portended disaster to the 
+Persian he left unspoken, but chose out and recited 
+such prophecies as were most favourable, telling of 
+the Hellespont, how it must be bridged by a man of 
+Persia, and how the host should march. So Xerxes 
+was beset by Onomacritus with his oracles, and by 
+the Pisistratidae and Aleuadae with their counsels. 
+7. Having been over-persuaded to send an ex- 
+pedition against Hellas, Xerxes first marched against 
+
+
+ably, rather a ‘‘selecter and publisher” of existing oracles, 
+by recitation or otherwise. 
+2 A poet and musician, Pindar’s teacher. 
+
+
+307 
+x 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+θάνατον τὸν Δαρείου πρῶτα στρατηΐίην ποιέεται. 
+ἐπὶ τοὺς ἀπεστεῶτας. τούτους μέν νυν καταστρε- 
+ψάµενος καὶ Αἴγυπτον πᾶσαν πολλὸν δουλοτέρην 
+ποιήσας ἢ ἐπὶ Δαρείου ἦν, ἐπιτράπει ᾿Αχαιμένεϊ 
+ἀδελφεῷ. μὲν ἑωυτοῦ, Δαρείου δὲ παιδί. ᾿Αχαι- 
+μένεα μέν νυν ἐπιτροπεύοντα Αἰγύπτου χρόνῳ 
+μετέπειτα ἐφόνευσε ᾿Ἰνάρως ὁ Ψαμμητίχου ἀνὴρ 
+Λίβυς. 
+
+8. Eép£gs δὲ μετὰ Αἰγύπτου ἅλωσιν ὡς ἔμελλε 
+ἐς χεῖρας ἄξεσθαι τὸ στράτευμα. τὸ ἐπὶ τὰς 
+᾿Αθήνας, .σύλλογον ἐπίκλητον Περσέων τῶν 
+ἀρίστων ἐποιέετο, ἵνα. γνώμας τε πύθηται σφέων 
+καὶ αὐτὸς ἐν πᾶσι εἴπη τὰ θέλει. ὡς δὲ συνε- 
+λέχθησαν, ἔλεξε Ἐέρξης τάδε. «Ανδρες Πέρσαι, 
+οὔτ᾽ αὐτὸς κατηγήσομαι νόμον τόνδε € ἐν ὑμῖν 
+τιθείς, παραδεξάμενος τε αὐτῷ χρήσομαι. ὡς 
+γὰρ ἐγὼ πυνθάνομαι τῶν πρεσβυτέρων, οὐδαμά 
+κω ἠτρεμίσαμεν, ἐπείτε παρελάβομεν τὴν ἦγεμο- 
+νίην τήνδε παρὰ Μήδων, Κύρου κατελόντος 
+᾿Αστυάγεα: ἀλλὰ θεὸς τε οὕτω ἄγει. καὶ αὐτοῖσι 
+ἡμῖν πολλὰ ἐπέπουσι συμφέρεται ἐπὶ τὸ ἄμεινον. 
+τὰ μέν νυν Κῦρός τε καὶ Καμβύσης πατήρ τε 
+ἐμὸς Δαρεῖος κατεργάσαντο καὶ προσεκτήσαντο 
+ἔθνεα, ἐπισταμένοισι εὖ οὐκ ἄν τις λέγοι. ἐγὼ δὲ 
+ἐπείτε παρέλαβον τὸν. θρόνον τοῦτον, ἐφρόντιζον 
+ὅκως μὴ Ἀείψομαι τῶν πρότερον γενομένων ἐν 
+τιμῇ τῆδε μηδὲ ἐλάσσω προσκτήσομαι δύναμιν. 
+Πέρσῃσι: φροντίξων δὲ εὑρίσκω ἅμα. μὲν κθδὸς 
+τε ἡμῖν προσηινόµενον χώρην τε τῆς νῦν ἐκτήμεθα 
+οὐκ ἐλάσσονα οὐδὲ φλαυροτέρην παμφορωτέῤηνι 
+τε, ἅμα δὲ τιμωρίην τε καὶ τίσιν γινομένην, διὸ! (ls 
+ὑμέας νῦν ἐγὼ συνέλεξα, ἵνα τὸ νοέω πρήσσειν 
+308 
+
+
+H 
+Ws 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 7-8 
+
+
+. the rebels, in the year after Darius’ death. These 
+he subdued, and laid Egypt under a much harder 
+slavery than in the time of Darius ; and he committed 
+the governance of it to Achaemenes, his own brother, 
+Darius’ son. This Achaemenes, being then viceroy 
+of Egypt, was at a later day! slain by a Libyan, 
+Inaros son of Psammetichus. | 
+
+8. After the conquest of Egypt, purposing now to 
+take in hand the expedition against Athens, Xerxes 
+held an assembly of the noblest among the Persians, 
+convened with special intent, that he might learn 
+their opinions and himself declare his will before 
+them all. When they were assembled, Xerxes spoke 
+to them as follows :—“ Persians! this is no new law 
+of my bringing in and ordaining, but one that I have 
+received and will obey. As I learn from our eldest, 
+we have never yet remained at peace ever since 
+Cyrus deposed Astyages and we won this our lord- 
+ship from the Medes. It is the will of heaven; and 
+we ourselves win advantage by our many enterprises. 
+Now of the nations that Cyrus and Cambyses and 
+Darius my father subdued and added to our realm, 
+none need tell you; for well you know them. But 
+for myself, ever since I came to this throne, I have 
+taken thought how best I shall not fall short in this 
+honourable place of those that were before me, nor 
+gain for the Persians a lesser power than they; and 
+my thought persuades me, that we may win not only 
+renown, but a land neither less nor worse, but more 
+fertile, than that which we now possess; and not 
+only so, but vengeance and requital withal. For this 
+cause I have now summoned you together, that I may 
+
+
+1 [n 460; ορ. III. 15. 
+399 
+
+
+- HERODOTUS 
+
+Jd we as 
+
+ὑπερθέωμάι ὑμῖν' μέλλω ξεύξας τὸν Ἑλλήσπον- 
+
+τον ἐλᾶν στρατὸν διὰ τῆς Εὐρώπης ἐπὶ τὴν 
+
+Ἑλλάδα, iva ᾿Αθηναίους τιμωρήσωμαι ὅσα δὴ 
+
+ει. εποιήκασι Πέρσας τε καὶ πατέρα τὸν ἐμόν. 
+
+""epüre μέν νυν καὶ πατέρα τὸν ἐμὸν Δαρεῖον 
+ἰθύοντα στρατεύεσθαι ἐπὶ τοὺς ἄνδρας τούτους. 
+ἀλλ᾽ ὃ μὲν τετελεύτηκε καὶ οὐκ ἐξεγένετο αὐτῷ 
+τιμωρήσασθαι" ἐγὼ δὲ ὑπέρ τε ἐκείνου καὶ τῶν 
+ἄλλων Περσέων ov πρότερον παύσομαι πρὶν 7) 
+ἕλω τε καὶ πυρώσω τὰς ᾿Αθήνας, οἵ γε ἐμὲ καὶ 
+
+πατέρα τὸν ἐμὸν ὑπῆρξαν ἄδικα ποιεῦντες. πρῶτα 
+
+μὲν ἐς Σάρδις ἐλθόντες, ἅμα” ᾿Αρισταγόρῃ τῷ 
+Μιλησίφ δούλῳ δὲ ἡμετέρῳ ἀπικόμενοι, ἐνέπρη- 
+σαν τά τε ἄλσεα καὶ τὰ ἱρά' δεύτερα δὲ ἡμέας 
+οἷα ἔρξαν ἐς τὴν σφετέρην ἀποβάντας, ὅ ὅτε Δᾶτίς 
+τε καὶ ᾿Αρταφρένης ἐστρατήγεον, τὰ ἐπίστασθέ 
+κου πάντες. τούτων μὲν τοίνυν εἵνεκα ἀνάρτημαι 
+ἐπ᾿ αὐτοὺς στρατεύεσθαι, ἀγαθὰ δὲ ἐν αὐτοῖσι 
+τοσάδε ἀνευρίσκω λογιξόμενος" εἰ τούτους τε καὶ 
+τοὺς τούτοισι πλησιοχώρους καταστρεγόμεθα, οἳ 
+Πέλοπος τοῦ «Φρυγὸς νέμονται χώρην, γῆν τὴν 
+Π]ερσίδα ἀποδέξομεν τῷ Διὸς αἰθέρι ὁ ὁμουρέουσαν. 
+οὗ γὰρ δὴ χώρην. ye οὐδεμίαν κατόψεται ἥλιος 
+ὅμουρον ἐοῦσαν τῇ ἡμετέρῃ, ἀλλὰ σφέας πάσας 
+ἐγὼ ἅμα ὑμῖν μίαν χώρην θήσω, διὰ πάσης 
+διεξελθὼν της Εὐρώπης. πυνθάνομαι γὰρ ὧδε 
+ἔχειν, οὔτε τινὰ πόλιν ἀνδρῶν οὐδεμίαν οὔτε ἔθνος 
+οὐδὲν ἀνθρώπων ὑπολείπεσθαι, τὸ ἡμῖν οἷόν τε 
+ἔσται ἐλθεῖν ἐς μάχην, τούτων τῶν κατέλεξα 
+ὑπεξαραιρημένων. οὕτω οἵ τε ἡμῖν αἴτιοι ἔξουσι 
+δούλιον ζυγὸν οἵ τε ἀναίτιοι. ὑμεῖς ὃ ἄν μοι τάδε 
+ποιέοντες χαρίξοισθε' ἐπεὰν ὑμῖν σημήνω τὸν 
+310 
+
+
+BOOK VII. ὃ 
+
+
+impart to you my purpose. It is my intent to bridge 
+the Hellespont and lead my army through Europe to 
+Hellas, that I may punish the Athenians for what 
+they have done to the Persians and to my father. 
+You saw that Darius my father was minded to make 
+an expedition against these men. But he is dead, 
+and it was not granted him to punish them; and I, 
+on his and all the Persians' behalf, will never rest till 
+I have taken and burnt Athens, for the unprovoked 
+wrong that its people did to my father and me; first 
+they came to Sardis with our slave Aristagoras the 
+Milesian, and burnt the groves and the temples ; and 
+next, how they dealt with us when we landed on 
+their shores and Datis and Artaphrenes were our 
+generals, all of you, I think, know. For these 
+causes then I am resolved to send an army against 
+them ; and thus much advantage, as my reckoning 
+shows me, we shall gain thereby : if we subdue those 
+men, and their neighbours who dwell in the land of 
+Pelops the Phrygian, we shall make the borders of 
+Persian territory and of the firmament of heaven to 
+be the same; for no land that the sun beholds will 
+lie on our borders, but I will make all to be one 
+country, when I have passed over the whole of 
+Europe. For, as I learn, there will then be left 
+neither inhabited city, nor nation of men, that is able 
+to meet us in battle, if those of whom I speak are 
+once taken out of our way. Thus they that have 
+done us wrong and they that have done us none will 
+alike bear the yoke of slavery. Α5 for you, this 
+is how you shall best please me: when I declare the 
+
+
+31I 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+χρόνον ἐς τὸν ἥκειν δεῖ, προθύμως πάντα τινὰ 
+ὑμέων χρήσει παρεῖναι. ὃς ἂν δὲ ἔχων ἥκῃ παρ- 
+εσκευασµένον στρατὸν κάλλιστα, δώσω οἱ δῶρα τὰ 
+τιμιώτατα νομίξεται εἶναι ἐν ἡμετέρου. ποιητέα 
+μέν νυν ταῦτα ἐστὶ οὕτω" ἵνα δὲ μὴ ἰδιοβουλεύειν 
+ὑμῖν δοκέω, τίθημι τὸ πρῆγμα ἐς μέσον, γνώμην 
+κελεύων ὑμέων τὸν βουλόμενον ἀποφαίνεσθαι.᾽ 
+ταῦτα εἴπας ἐπαύετο. 
+
+9. Mer’ αὐτὸν δὲ Μαρδόνιος ἔλεγε “Ὢ δέσποτα, 
+ov μοῦνον εἷς τῶν γενοµένων Περσέων ἄριστος 
+ἀλλὰ καὶ τῶν ἐσομένων, ὃς τά τε ἄλλα ` λέγων 
+ἐπίκεο ἄριστα καὶ ἀληθέστατα, καὶ Ἴωνας τοὺς 
+ἐν τῇ Εὐρώπη κατοικημένους οὐκ ἐάσεις κατα- 
+γελάσαι ἡμῖν ἐόντας ἀναξίους. καὶ γὰρ δεινὸν à ἂν 
+εἴη πρῆγμα, εἰ Σάκας μὲν καὶ Ινδοὺς καὶ Αἰθίο- 
+πάς τε καὶ ᾿Ἀσσυρίους ἄλλα τε ἔθνεα πολλὰ καὶ 
+μεγάλα ἀδικήσαντα Πέρσας οὐδέν, ἀλλὰ δύναμιν 
+προσκτᾶσθαι βουλόμενοι, καταστρεψάμενοι δού- 
+λους ἔχομεν, "Ελληνας δὲ ὑπάρξαντας ἀδικίης 
+
+αὐ τιμωρησόμεθα" τί δείσαντες ; κοίην πλήθεος 
+“συστροφήν; κοίην δὲ χρημάτων δύναμιν; τῶν 
+ἐπιστάμεθα μὲν τὴν μάχην, ἐπιστάμεθα δὲ τὴν 
+δύναμιν ἐοῦσαν ἀσθενέα" ἔχομεν δὲ αὐτῶν παῖδας 
+καταστρεψάμενοι, τούτους οἳ ἐν τῇ ἡμετέρῃ 
+κατοικημένοι "Ἴωνές τε καὶ Αἰολέες καὶ Δωριέες 
+καλέονται. ἐπειρήθην δὲ καὶ αὐτὸς ἤδη eT- 
+ελαύνων ἐπὶ τοὺς ἄνδρας τούτους ὑπὸ πατρὸς τοῦ 
+σοῦ κελευσθείς, καί μοι μέχρι Μακεδονίης ἐλά- 
+σαντι καὶ ὀλίγον ἀπολιπόντι ἐς αὐτὰς ᾿Αθήνας 
+
+
+1 Το an oriental all Greeks alike were ** Ionians," Persian 
+Yauna ; cp. the “Javan” of the Bible, In Aristoph. Acharn. 
+
+
+313 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 8-9 
+
+
+time for your coming, every one of you must appear, 
+and with a good will; and whosoever comes with 
+his army best equipped shall receive from me such 
+gifts as are reckoned most precious among us. All 
+this, then, must so be done; but that none may 
+think that I take counsel of myself alone, I lay the 
+matter before you all, and bid him who will to declare 
+his opinion." So spoke Xerxes, and ceased. 
+
+9. After him spoke Mardonius, and said :—“ Sire, 
+you surpass not only all Persians that have been but 
+also all that shall be; for besides that you have dealt 
+excellently and truly with all other matters, you will 
+not suffer the Ionians! that dwell in Europe to 
+make a mock of us, which thing they have no right 
+to do. For it were strange indeed, that we, who 
+have subdued and made slaves of Sacae and Indians 
+and Ethiopians and Assyrians and many other great 
+nations, for no wrong done to the Persians but of 
+mere desire to add to our power,—that we, I say, 
+shall not take vengeance on the Greeks for unpro- 
+voked wrong-doing. What have we to fear from 
+them? Have they mighty hosts or abundance of 
+wealth to affright us? Their manner of fighting we 
+know, and their wealth we know, that it is but little ; 
+and we have conquered and hold their sons, even 
+those who dwell in our land and are called Ionians 
+and Aeolians and Dorians. I myself, have tried 
+conclusions with these men, when by your father’s 
+command I marched against them; and I marched 
+as far as Macedonia and wellnigh to Athens itself, 
+
+
+104 the Persian ambassador addresses a Greek as χαυνόπρωκτ᾽ 
+]αοναῦ. 
+
+
+313 
+
+
+τ 
+
+
+` 
+a 
+ta i 
+
+
+le giu 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἀπικέσθαι οὐδεὶς ἠντιώθη ἐς μάχην. καίτοι γε 
+ἐώθασι "Ελληνες, ὡς πυνθάνομαι, ἀβουλότατα 
+
+ολέμους ἵστασθαι ὑπό τε ἀγνωμοσύνης καὶ 
+Feist ros. ἐπεὰν γὰρ ἀλλήλοισι πόλεμον 
+ο το ἐξευρόντες τὸ κάλλιστον χωρίον καὶ 
+
+ιότατον, ἐς τοῦτο κατιόντες μάχονται, ὥστε σὺν 
+κακῷ μεγάλῳ. οἱ νικῶντες ἀπαλλάσσονται περὶ 
+δὲ τῶν ἑσσουμένων οὐδὲ λέγω ἀρχήν' ἐξώλεες γὰρ 
+δὴ γίνονται’ τοὺς χρῆν ἐόντας ὁμογλώσσους 
+κήρυξί τε διαχρεωμένους καὶ ἀγγέλοισι κατᾶ- 
+λαμβάνειν, τὰς διαφορὰς καὶ παντὶ μᾶλλον 7 
+µάχησι εἰ δὲ πάντως ἔδεε πολεμέειν πρὸς ἀλλή- 
+λους, ἐξευρίσκειν χρῆν τῇ ἑκάτεροι εἰσὶ δυσχει- 
+ρωτότατοι καὶ ταύτη πειρᾶν. τρόπῳ τοίνυν οὐ 
+χρηστῷ Ἕλληνες διαχρεώμενοι, ἐμέο ἑλάσαντος 
+μέχρι Μακεδονίης γῆς, οὐκ ἦλθον € ἐς τούτου λόγον 
+ὥστε μάχεσθαι. σοὶ δὲ δὴ μέλλει τίς ὦ βασιλεῦ 
+ἀντιώσεσθαι πόλεμον προφέρων, ἄγοντι καὶ 
+πλῆθος TÒ ἐκ τῆς ᾿Ασίης καὶ νέας τὰς ἁπάσας ; 
+ὡς μὲν ἐγὼ δοκέω, OUK ἐς τοῦτο .θράσεος ἀνήκει 
+τὰ Ἑλλήνων πρήγματα' εἰ δὲ ἄρα ἔγωγε ψευ- 
+σθείην γνώμῃ καὶ ἐκεῖνοι ἐπαερθέντες ἀβουλίῃ 
+ἔλθοιεν ἡμῖν ἐς μάχην, μάθοιεν ἂν ὡς εἰμὲν 
+ἀνθρώπων͵ ἄριστοι τὰ πολέμια. ἔστω ὃ ὧν 
+μηδὲν ἆ ἀπείρητον' αὐτόματον γὰρ οὐδέν, ἀλλ, ἀπὸ 
+s πάντα ἀνθρώποισι φιλέει γίνεσθαι.” 
+
+10. Μαρδόνιος .μὲν τοσαῦτα ἐπιλεήνας τὴν 
+Ἐέρξεω γνώμην ἐπέπαυτο' σιωπώντων δὲ τῶν 
+ἄλλων Περσέων καὶ οὐ τολμώντων γνώμην 
+ἀποδείκνυσθαι ἀντίην τῇ προκειµένῃ, ᾿Αρτά- 
+Ravos ὁ Ὑστάσπεος, πάτρως ἐὼν Ξέρξη, τῷ δὴ 
+καὶ πίσυνος ἐὼν ἔλεγε τάδε. “Q βασιλεῦ, μὴ 
+
+
+314 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 9-1o 
+
+
+yet none came out to meet me in battle. Yet wars 
+the.Greeks do wage, and, as I learn, most senselessly 
+they do it, in their wrongheadedness and folly. 
+When they have declared war against each other, 
+they come down to the fairest and most level ground 
+that they can find and there they fight, so that the 
+victors come not off without great harm ; and of the 
+vanquished I say not so much as a word, for they are 
+utterly destroyed. Yet speaking as they do the 
+same language, they should end their disputes by 
+the means of heralds and messengers, and by any 
+way rather than fighting ; or if needs must that they 
+war against each other, they should discover each 
+where his strongest defence lies, and there make his 
+essay. The Greek custom, then, is no good one; 
+and when I marched as far as the land of Macedonia, 
+it came not into their thoughts to fight. But against 
+you, O king! who shall make war? For you will 
+have at your back the multitudes of Asia, and all 
+your ships; for myself, I think there is not so much 
+boldness in Hellas as that; but if time should show 
+me wrong in my judgment, and those men were fool- 
+hardy enough to do battle with us, they would be 
+taught that we are the greatest warriors αἲρ) earth. 
+But whatsoever betide, let us be ever venturesome ; 
+for nought comes of itself, and all men's gains are 
+the fruit of adventure." 
+
+10. Thus smoothly Mardonius spoke of Xerxes' 
+opinion, and made an end. The rest of the Persians 
+held their peace, not daring to utter any counsel 
+contrary to that which had been given; then spoke 
+Artabanus the son of Hystaspes, who was the king's 
+uncle, and emboldened thereby. “Ο king," he said, 
+
+
+3I5 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+λεχθεισέων μὲν γνωμέων ἀντιέων ἀλλήλῃσι οὐκ 
+ἔστι τὴν ἀμείνω αἱρεόμενον ἑλέσθαι, ἀλλὰ ~ δεῖ 
+τῇ εἰρημένῃ χρᾶσθαι, λεχθεισέων δὲ ἔστι, ὥσπερ 
+τὸν χρυσὸν τὸν ἀκήρατον αὐτὸν μὲν ἐπ᾿ ἑωυτοῦ 
+οὐ διαγινώσκομεν, ἐ ἐπεὰν δὲ παρατρίψωμεν ἄλλῳ 
+χρυσῷ, διαγινώσκομεν τὸν ἀμείνω. ἐγὼ δὲ καὶ 
+πατρὶ τῷ σῷ, ἀδελφεῷ δὲ ἐμῷ Δαρείῳ ἠγόρευον 
+μὴ στρατεύεσθαι ἐπὶ Σκύθας, ἄνδρας οὐδαμόθι 
+γῆς ἄστυ νέμοντας. ὃ δὲ ἐλπίξων Σκύθας τοὺς 
+νομάδας καταστρέψεσθαι ἐμοί τε οὐκ ἐπείθετο, 
+στρατευσάμενός τε πολλοὺς καὶ ἀγαθοὺς τῆς 
+στρατιῆς ἀποβαλὼν ἀπῆλθε. σὺ δὲ ὦ Βασιλεῦ 
+μέλλεις ἐπ ᾿ ἄνδρας στρατεύεσθαι πολλὸν ἀμείνονας 
+7) Σκύθας, οἳ κατὰ θάλασσών τε ἄριστοι καὶ κατὰ 
+γῆν λέγονται εἶναι. τὸ δὲ αὐτοῖσι ἔνεστι δεινόν, 
+ἐμὲ σοὶ δίκαιον ἐστὶ φράζειν. ζεύξας φὴς τὸν 
+Ἑλλήσποντον ἐλᾶν στρατὸν διὰ τῆς Εὐρώπης 
+ἐς τὴν Ελλάδα. καὶ δὴ καὶ συνήνεικέ σε ἤτοι 
+κατὰ γῆν ἢ καὶ κατὰ θάλασσαν ἑσσωθῆναι, ἢ 
+καὶ κατ᾿ ἀμφότερα: οἱ γὰρ ἄνδρες λέγονται εἶναι 
+ἄλκιμοι, πάρεστι ὲ καὶ σταθμώσασθαι, εὖ 
+στρατιήν ye τοσαύτην σὺν Δάτι καὶ ᾿Αρταφρένεϊ 
+ἐλθοῦσαν ἐς τὴν ᾿Αττικὴν χώρην μοῦνοι , A0- 
+vato. διέφθειραν. οὕκων ἀμφοτέρῃ σφι ἐχώρησε. 
+ἀλλ᾽ ἦν τῆσι νηυσὶ ἐμβάλωσι καὶ νικήσαντες 
+ναυμαχίῃ πλέωσι ἐς τὸν Ἑλλήσποντον καὶ 
+ἔπειτα λύσωσι τὴν γέφυραν, τοῦτο δὴ βασιλεῦ 
+γίνεται δεινόν. ἐγὼ δὲ οὐδεμιῇ copin οἰκηίῃ 
+αὐτὸς ταῦτα συμβάλλομαι, ἀλλ. οἷον κοτὲ ἡμέας 
+ὀλίγου ἐδέησε καταλαβεῖν πάθος, ὅτε πατὴρ 
+
+
+316 
+
+
+BOOK VII. ro 
+
+
+* if opinions opposite the one to the other be not 
+uttered, it is not possible that choice should find the 
+better, but that one which has been spoken must 
+be followed ; but if they be spoken, the better can 
+be found ; even as the purity of gold cannot of itself 
+be discerned, but when gold by rubbing ! is compared 
+with gold, we then discern the better. Now I for- 
+bade Darius, your father and my brother, to lead his 
+army against the Scythians, who have no cities 
+anywhere to dwell in. But he, in his hope to subdue 
+the nomad Scythians, would not be guided by me; 
+he led his army, and returned from that expedition 
+with the loss of many gallant men of his host. You, 
+O king! are purposing to lead your armies against 
+men far better than the Scythians—men who are 
+said to be most doughty warriors by sea and land; 
+and it is right that I should show to you what danger 
+lies therein. You will bridge the Hellespont (so you 
+say) and march your army through Europe to Hellas. 
+Now I will suppose that matters have so fallen out 
+that you are worsted either by land or by sea, or 
+even both; for the men are said to be valiant, and 
+well may we guess that it is so, seeing that so great 
+a host, that followed Datis and Artaphrenes to Attica, 
+was destroyed by the Athenians alone. Be it, then, 
+granted that they win not success both by sea and by 
+land ; but if they attack with their ships and prevail 
+in a sea-fight, and then sail to the Hellespont and 
+thereafter break your bridge, that, O king, is the 
+hour of peril. It is from no wisdom of my own that 
+I thus conjecture ; it is because I know what disaster 
+was that which wellnigh once overtook us, when 
+
+
+1 4e. rubbing against the touchstone, which would be 
+stained by pure gold. 
+
+
+317 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+σὸς ξεύξας Βόσπορον τὸν Θρηίκιον, γεφυρώσας 
+δὲ ποταμὸν Ἴστρον διέβη ἐπὶ Σκύθας. τότε 
+παντοῖοι ἐγένοντο Σκύθαι δεόμενοι Ἰώνων λῦσαι 
+τὸν πόρον, τοῖσι ἐπετέτραπτο 7) φυλακὴ τῶν 
+γεφυρέων τοῦ Ἴστρου. καὶ τότε γε Ἱστιαῖος ὁ 
+Μιλήτου τύραννος εἰ ἐπέσπετο τῶν ἄλλων τυράν- 
+νων τῇ γνώμῃ μηδὲ ἠναντιώθη, διέργαστο ἂν τὰ 
+Περσέων πρήγματα. καίτοι καὶ λόγῳ ἀκοῦσαι 
+δεινόν, ἐπ᾽ ἀνδρί γε ἑνὶ πάντα τὰ βασιλέος 
+πρήγματα γεγενῆσθαι. σὺ ὧν μὴ βούλευ ἐς 
+κίνδυνον μηδένα τοιοῦτον ἀπικέσθαι μηδεμιῆς 
+ἀνάγκης ἐούσης, ἀλλὰ ἐμοὶ πείθευ. νῦν μὲν τὸν 
+σύλλογον τόνδε διάλυσον αὖτις δέ, ὅταν τοι 
+δοκέῃ, προσκεψάμενος ἐπὶ σεωυτοῦ προαγόρευε 
+τά τοι δοκέει εἶναι ἄριστα. τὸ γὰρ εὖ βουλεύ- 
+εσθαι κέρδος μέγιστον εὑρίσκω éóv εἰ γὰρ καὶ 
+ἐναντιωθῆναί τι θέλει, βεβούλευται. μὲν οὐδὲν 
+ἧσσον εὖ, ἔσσωται δὲ ὗ ὑπὸ τῆς τύχης τὸ βούλευμα" 
+ὁ δὲ βουλευσάμενος αἰσχρῶς, εἴ οἱ ἡ τύχη ἐπί- 
+σποιτο, εὕρημα εὕρηκε, ἧσσον δὲ οὐδέν οἱ κακῶς 
+βεβούλευται. ὁρᾷς τὰ ὑπερέχοντα (Qa ὡς κε- 
+ραυνοῖ ὁ θεὸς οὐδὲ e ἐᾷ φαντάξεσθαι, τὰ δὲ σμικρὰ 
+οὐδέν pw κνίδει' opas δὲ ὡς ἐς οἰκήματα τὰ 
+μέγιστα αἰεὶ καὶ δένδρεα τὰ τοιαῦτα ἀποσκήπτει 
+τὰ βέλεα" φιλέει γὰρ ὁ θεὸς τὰ Ù ὑπερέχοντα πάντα 
+κολούειν. οὕτω δὲ καὶ στρατὸς πολλὸς ὑπὸ 
+ὀλίγου διαφθείρεται κατὰ τοιόνδε" ἐπεάν σφι ὁ 
+θεὸς φθονήσας φόβον ἐμβάλῃ À βροντήν, δι ὧν 
+ἐφθάρησαν ἀναξίως ἑ ἑωυτῶν. οὐ γὰρ ἐᾷ φρονέειν 
+μέγα ὁ θεὸς ἄλλον ἢ ἑωυτόν. ἐπειχθῆναι μέν νυν 
+πᾶν πρῆγμα τίκτει σφάλματα, ἐκ τῶν ζημίαι 
+
+
+318 
+
+
+BOOK VII. το 
+
+
+your father, making a highway over the Thracian 
+Bosporus, and bridging the river Ister, crossed over to 
+attack the Scythians. At that time the Scythians 
+used every means of entreating the Ionians, who had 
+been charged to guard the bridges of the Ister, to 
+break the way of passage! ; and then, if Histiaeusthe 
+despot of Miletus had consented to the opinion of the 
+other despots and not withstood it, the power of Persia 
+had perished. Yet it were a thing of dread even in 
+the telling, that one, and he but a man, should hold in 
+his hand all the king’s fortunes. Do you then make 
+no plan to run into any such danger, when there is 
+no need therefor, but be ruled by me: for the nonce, 
+dismiss this assembly; and presently, whenever you 
+so please, having first considered the matter by 
+yourself, declare what seems to you best. A well- 
+laid plan is ever to my mind most profitable; for even 
+though it be thwarted later, yet none the less has the 
+plan been good, and it is but chance that has baffled 
+the design; but he that has made a sorry plan has 
+gotten, if fortune favour him, but a chance prize, and 
+none the less has his plan been evil. You see how 
+the god smites with his thunderbolt creatures of 
+greatness more than common, nor suffers them to 
+display their pride, but such as are little move him 
+not to anger; and you see how it is ever on the 
+tallest buildings and trees that his bolts fall; for it is 
+heaven's way to bring low all things of surpassing 
+bigness. Thus a numerous host is destroyed by one 
+that is lesser, the god of his jealousy sending panic 
+fear or thunderbolt among them, whereby they do 
+unworthily perish ; for the god suffers pride in none 
+but himself. Now haste is ever the parent of failure, 
+
+
+1 Ορ. IV. 136 ff. 
+319 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μεγάλαι φιλέουσι γίνεσθαι: ἐν δὲ τῷ ἐπισχεῖν 
+ἔνεστι ἀγαθά, εἰ μὴ παραυτίκα δοκέοντα εἶναι, 
+ἀλλ) ἀνὰ χρόνον ἐξεύροι τις ἄν. σοὶ μὲν δὴ ταῦτα 
+ὦ βασιλεῦ συμβουλεύω" σὺ δέ, ὦ παῖ Γοβρύεω 
+Μαρδόνιε, παῦσαι λέγων λόγους ματαίους περὶ 
+Ἑλλήνων οὐκ ἐόντων ἀξίων φλαύρως ἀκούειν. 
+Ελληνας γὰρ διαβάλλων ἐ ἐπαείρεις αὐτὸν βασιλέα 
+στρατεύεσθαι αὐτοῦ δὲ τούτου. εἵνεκα. δοκέεις μοι 
+πᾶσαν προθυμίην ἐ ἐκτείνειν. μή νυν οὕτω γένηται. 
+δια βολὴ γὰρ ἐστὶ δεινότατον" ἐν τῇ δύο μὲν εἰσὶ 
+οἱ ἀδικέοντες, εἷς δὲ ὁ ἀδιεεόμενος. ὁ μὲν γὰρ 
+διαβάλλων ἀδικέει οὐ παρεύντι κατηγορέων, ὃ δὲ 
+ἀδικέει ἀναπειθόμενος πρὶν 7 ἀτρεκέως ἐκμάθῃ' 
+
+ὁ δὲ δὴ ἀπεὼν τοῦ λόγου τάδε ἐν αὐτοῖσι ἀδι- 
+κέεται, διαβληθείς τε ὑπὸ τοῦ ἑτέρου καὶ νομισθεὶς 
+πρὸς τοῦ ἑτέρου κακὸς εἶναι. ἀλλ᾽ εἰ δὴ δεῖ γε 
+πάντως ἐπὶ τοὺς ἄνδρας τούτους στρατεύεσθαι, 
+φέρε, βασιλεὺς μὲν αὐτὸς ἐν ἤθεσι τοῖσι Περσέων 
+μενέτω, ἡμέων δὲ ἀμφοτέρων παραβαλλομένων τὰ 
+τέκνα, στρατηλάτεε αὐτὸς σὺ ἐπιλεξάμενός τε 
+ἄνδρας τοὺς ἐθέλεις καὶ λαβὼν .στρατιὴν ὀκόσην 
+τινὰ βούλεαι. καὶ ἣν μὲν τῇ σὺ λέγεις ἀναβαίνῃ 
+βασιλέι τὰ πρήγματα, κτεινέσθων οἱ ἐμοὶ παῖδες, 
+πρὸς δὲ αὐτοῖσι καὶ eyo" ἣν δὲ τῇ ἐγὼ προλέγω, 
+οἱ σοὶ ταῦτα πασχόντων, σὺν δέ σφι καὶ σύ, ἦν 
+ἀπονοστήσῃς. ei δὲ ταῦτα μὲν ὑποδύνειν οὐκ 
+ἐθελήσεις, σὺ δὲ πάντως στράτευμα. ἀνάξεις. ἐπὶ 
+τὴν Ελλάδα, ἀκούσεσθαι τινὰ φημὶ τῶν αὐτοῦ 
+τῇδε ὑπολειπομένων Μαρδόνιον, μέγα τι κακὸν 
+ἐξεργασάμενον Πέρσας, i ὑπὸ κυνῶν τε καὶ ὀρνίθων 
+διαφορεύμενον ἤ 7) κου ἐν γῇ τῇ ᾿Αθηναίων ἡ ἢ σέ γε ἐν 
+τῇ Λακεδαιμονίων, εἰ μὴ ἄρα καὶ πρότερον κατ᾽ 
+320 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 1o 
+
+
+whereof grievous hurts are apt to come; but in waiting 
+there is good, which in due time shall appear, though 
+in the present it seem not so. This, O king, is my 
+counsel to you. But to you I say, Mardonius son of 
+Gobryas! cease from foolish speaking about the 
+Greeks, for they deserve not to be maligned. It is 
+by speaking calumniously of the Greeks that you 
+would hearten the king to send this expedition ; and 
+that, methinks, is the end to which you press with 
+all eagerness. Nay, let it not be so. Calumny is 
+a very gross business; there are two in it that do and 
+one that suffers wrong. He that utters the calumny 
+wrongs another, accusing an absent man, and the 
+other does a wrong likewise in that he is overpersuaded 
+before he has learnt the whole truth ; and he that is 
+absent and hears not what is said of him suffers wrong 
+in the matter, being maligned by the one and con- 
+demned by the other. Nay, if an army must by all 
+means be sent against these Greeks, hear me now: 
+Let the king himself abide in the Persian land, and 
+let us two stake our children's lives upon it; then do 
+you lead out the army, choosing what men you will 
+and taking as great an armament as you desire; and 
+if it fare with the king's fortunes as you say it will, let 
+my sons be slain, and myself too with them; but if 
+the issue be as I foretell, let your sons be so treated, 
+and you likewise, if you return. But if you will not 
+submit yourself to this, and will at all hazards lead 
+your army overseas to Hellas, then I think that they 
+who are left behind in this place will hear that 
+Mardonius has wrought great harm to Persia, and is 
+torn asunder by dogs and birds in the land of Athens 
+or of Lacedaemon, if not peradventure ere that on 
+
+
+32t 
+VOL. III. Y 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὁδόν, γνόντα ἐπ᾽ οἵους ἄνδρας ἀναγινώσκεις 
+στρατεύεσθαι βασιλέα.” 
+
+11. ᾿Αρτάβανος μὲν ταῦτα ἔλεξε, Ξέρξης δὲ 
+θυμωθεὶς ἀμείβεται τοῖσιδε. “ ᾿Αρτάβανε, πατρὸς 
+εἷς τοῦ ἐμοῦ ἀδελφεός" τοῦτό σε ῥύσεται μηδένα 
+ἄξιον μισθὸν. λαβεῖν ἐπέων ματαίων. καί τοι 
+ταύτην τὴν ἀτιμίην προστίθημι ἐόντι κακῷ καὶ 
+ἀθύμῳ, μήτε συστρατεύεσθαι ἔμοιγε ἐπὶ τὴν 
+Ἑλλάδα αὐτοῦ τε μένειν ἅμα τῇσι γυναιξί. ἐγὼ 
+δὲ καὶ ἄνευ σέο ὅσα περ εἶπα ἐπιτελέα ποιήσω. 
+μὴ γὰρ εἴην ἐκ Δαρείου τοῦ Ὑστάσπεος τοῦ ᾿Αρ- 
+σάμεος τοῦ ᾿Αριαράμνεω τοῦ Τεΐσπεος τοῦ Κύρου 
+τοῦ Καμβύσεω τοῦ Τεΐσπεος τοῦ ᾿Αχαιμένεος 
+γεγονώς, μὴ τιμωρησάμενος ᾿Αθηναίους, εὖ ἐπιστά- 
+μενος ὅτι εἰ ἡμεῖς ἡσυχίην ἄξομεν, ἀλλ᾽ οὐκ 
+ἐκεῖνοι, ἀλλὰ καὶ μάλα στρατεύσονται ἐπὶ τὴν 
+ἡμετέρην, εὖ χρὴ σταθμώσασθαι τοῖσι ὑπαργμέ- 
+νοισι ἐξ ἐκείνων, οἳ Σάρδις τε ἐνέπρησαν καὶ 
+ἤλασαν ἐς τὴν Acin. οὔκων ἐξαναχωρέειν 
+οὐδετέροισι δυνατῶς ἔχει, ἀλλὰ ποιέειν ἢ παθεῖν 
+πρόκειται ἀγών, ἵνα ἢ τάδε πάντα ὑπὸ Ἕλλησι 
+5 ἐκεῖνα πάντα ὑπὸ Πέρσῃσι γένηται" τὸ γὰρ 
+μέσον οὐδὲν τῆς ἔχθρης ἐστί. καλὸν ὧν προπε- 
+πονθότας ἡμέας τιμωρέειν ἤδη γίνεται, tva καὶ τὸ 
+δεινὸν τὸ πείσομαι τοῦτο μάθω, ἐλάσας ἐπ᾿ ἄνδρας 
+τούτους, τούς γε καὶ Πέλοψ. ὁ Φρύξ, ἐὼν πατέρων 
+
+
+1 The first seven names represent two parallel lines of 
+descent from Teispes son of Achaemenes (except that the 
+first ** Teispes’’ is a fiction), which Herodotus has apparently 
+fused into one direct line. Xerxes could claim descent from 
+both, in virtue of his mother Atossa, Cyrus' daughter; hence 
+
+
+322 
+
+
+BOOK VII. το-ιι 
+
+
+the way thither; and that thus you have learnt what 
+manner of men are they whom you would persuade 
+the king to attack." 
+
+1l. Thusspoke Artabanus. But Xerxes answered 
+in wrath, * Artabanus, you are my father's brother; 
+that shall save you from receiving the fit reward 
+of foolish words. Yet for your craven lack of spirit 
+I lay upon you this disgrace, that you shall not go 
+with me and my army against Hellas, but abide 
+here with the women; and I myself will accomplish 
+all that I have said, with no help from you. For 
+may I not be the son of Darius, who was the son of 
+Hystaspes, who was the son of Arsames, who was the 
+son of Ariaramnes, who was the son of Teispes, who 
+was the son of Cyrus, who was the son of Cambyses, 
+who was the son of Teispes, who was the son of Achae- 
+menes,! if 1 do not avenge me on the Athenians; 
+well knowing, that if we remain at peace, yet so 
+will not they, but will assuredly invade our country, 
+if we may infer.from what they have done already, for 
+they burnt Sardis and marched into Asia. Where- 
+fore, it is not possible for either of us to turn back ; 
+to do or suffer is our task, that what is ours be under 
+the Greeks, or what is theirs under the Persians ; 
+there is no middle way in our quarrel. Honour 
+then demands that we avenge ourselves for what 
+has been done to us; thus shall I learn what is this 
+evil that will befal me when I march against these 
+Greeks—men that even Pelops the Phrygian, the 
+
+
+perhaps the confusion, For a complete discussion see How 
+and Wells, Appendix IV. It may be remembered that 
+Herodotus probably deals with Egyptian chronology in the 
+same way, making a sequence out of lists of kings some of 
+whom were contemporaries. 
+
+
+323 
+v 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τῶν ἐμῶν δοῦλος, κατεστρέψατο οὕτω ὡς καὶ ἐς 
+τόδε αὐτοί τε ὥνθρωποι καὶ ἡ Y. αὐτῶν ἐπώνυμοι 
+τοῦ καταστρεψαμένου καλέονται.” 
+
+12. Ταῦτα μὲν ἐπὶ τοσοῦτο ἐλέγετο. μετὰ δὲ 
+εὐφρόνη τε ἐγίνετο καὶ Ξέρξην ἔκνιζε ἡ 7) ᾿Αρταβά- 
+νου γνώμη" νυκτὶ δὲ βουλὴν διδοὺς πάγχυ εὕρισκέ 
+οἱ οὐ πρῆγμα εἶναι στρατεύεσθαι ἐ ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα. 
+δεδογµένων δέ οἱ αὖτις τούτων κατύπνωσε, καὶ δή 
+κου ἐν τῇ νυκτὶ εἶδε ὄψιν τοιήνδε, ὡς λέγεται ὑπὸ 
+Περσέων: ἐδόκεε ὁ Ξέρξης ἄνδρα οἱ ἐπιστάντα 
+μέγαν τε καὶ εὐειδέα εἰπεῖν “ Μετὰ δὴ βουλεύεαι, 
+ὦ Πέρσα, στράτευμα μὴ ἄγειν ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα, 
+προείπας ἁλίξειν Πέρσας στρατόν ; οὔτε ὧν µετα- 
+βουλευόμενος ποιέεις εὖ οὔτε ὁ συγγνωσόμενός τοι 
+πάρα" ἀλλ ὥσπερ τῆς ἡμέρης ἐβουλεύσαο ποιέειν, 
+ταύτην ἴθι τῶν ὁδῶν. - 
+
+18. Τὸν μὲν ταῦτα εἰπόντα ἐδόκεε ὁ Ἑέρξης 
+ἀποπτάσθαι, ἡμέρης δὲ ἐπιλαμψάσης ὀνείρου μὲν 
+τούτου λόγον οὐδένα ἐποιέετο, ὃ δὲ Περσέων 
+συναλίσας τοὺς καὶ πρότερον συνέλεξε, ἔλεξέ σφι 
+τάδε. ' Άνδρες Πέρσαι, συγγνώμην μοι ἔχετε ὅτι 
+ἀγχίστροφα βουλεύομαι" φρενῶν τε γὰρ ἐς τὰ ἐμε- 
+ωυτοῦ πρῶτα οὔκω ἀνήκω, καὶ οἱ παρηγορεόµενοι 
+ἐκεῖνα ποιέειν οὐδένα χρόνον μευ ἀπέχονται. 
+ἀκούσαντι μέντοι μοι τῆς ᾿Αρταβάνου γνώμης 
+παραυτίκα μὲν 7) νεότης ἐπέζεσε, ὥστε ἀεικέστερα 
+ἀπορρῖψαι ἔπεα ἐς ἄνδρα πρεσβύτερον 7 X peor" 
+
+. , 
+νῦν μέντοι συγγνοὺς χρήσομαι τῇ ἐκείνου γνώμῃ. 
+ὡς ὧν μεταδεδογμένον μοι. μὴ στρατεύεσθαι ἐπὶ 
+τὴν Ἑλλάδα, ἥ ἥσυχοι ἔστε." 
+
+14. Πέρσαι μὲν ὡς ἤκουσαν ταῦτα, κεχαρηκότες 
+
+
+324 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 11-14 
+
+
+slave of my forefathers, did so utterly subdue that 
+to this day they and their country are called by the 
+name of their conqueror.' 
+
+12. So far discourse went; and presently came the 
+night-time, and Xerxes was pricked by the counsel 
+of Artabanus ; and taking counsel of night, he saw 
+clearly that to send an army against Hellas was none 
+of his business. Having made this second resolve 
+he fell asleep; then it would appear (for so the 
+Persians say) that in the night he saw this vision: 
+It seemed to Xerxes that a tall and goodly man 
+stood over him and said, * Art thou then changing 
+thy counsel, Persian, and wilt not lead thine army 
+against Hellas, albeit thou hast proclaimed the 
+mustering of thy host? thou dost not well to change 
+thy counsel, nor will he that thou seest pardon thee 
+for it; nay, let thy course be according to thy 
+design of yesterday." 
+
+13. Thus the vision spake, and seemed to Xerxes 
+to vanish away; but when day dawned the king 
+took no account of this dream, but assembling the 
+Persians whom he had before gathered together, he 
+thus addressed them: “ Forgive me, Persians! for 
+that I turn and twist in my purpose; for I am not 
+yet come to the fulness of my wisdom, and they are 
+ever with me who exhort me to do as I said. ‘Tis 
+true that when I heard Artabanus opinion my 
+youthful spirit did for the nonce take fire, whereby 
+there brake from me an unseemly and wrongful 
+answer to one older than myself; yet now I see my 
+fault and will follow his judgment. Know there- 
+fore that my purpose of marching against Hellas is 
+changed, and abide in peace." 
+
+14. When the Persians heard that, they rejoiced, 
+
+
+325 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+προσεκύνεον. νυκτὸς δὲ γενομένης αὖτις τὠυτὸ 
+ὄνειρον τῷ Eép£g κατυπνωμένῳ ἔλεγε ἐπιστάν CQ 
+παῖ Δαρείου, καὶ δὴ φαίνεαι ἐ ἐν Πέρσῃσί τε ἀπειπά- 
+μενος τὴν στρατηλασίην καὶ τὰ ἐμὰ ἔπεα ἐν οὐδενὶ 
+ποιησάμενος λόγῳ “ὡς παρ᾽ οὐδενὸς ἀκούσας ; εὖ 
+νυν τόδ᾽ ἴσθι" ἣν περ μὴ αὐτίκα στρατηλατέης, 
+τάδε τοι ἐξ αὐτῶν ἀνασχήσει' ὡς καὶ μέγας καὶ 
+πολλὸς ἐγένεο ἐν ὀλίγῳ χρόνῳ, οὕτω καὶ ταπεινὸς 
+ὀπίσω κατὰ τάχος ἔ ἔσεαι. 
+
+15. Ἐξέρξης μὲν περιδεὴς γενόμενος τῇ ὄψι 
+ἀνά τε ἔδραμε ἐκ τῆς κοίτης καὶ πέμπει ἄγγελον 
+ἐπὶ ᾿Αρτάβανον καλέοντα' ἀπικομένῳ δέ οἱ ἔλεγε 
+Ξέρξης τάδε. “ ᾿Αρτάβανε, ἐγὼ τὸ παραυτίκα 
+μὲν οὐκ ἐσωφρόνεον εἴπας ἐς σὲ μάταια. ἔπεα 
+χρηστῆς εἵνεκα συμβουλίης' μετὰ. μέντοι οὐ πολ- 
+λὸν χρόνον μετέγνων, ἔγνων, δὲ ταῦτά μοι ποιητέα 
+ἐόντα τὰ σὺ ὑπεθήκαο. οὔκων δυνατός του εἰμὶ 
+ταῦτα βουλόμενος ποιέειν" ᾿τετραμμένῳ γὰρ δὴ καὶ 
+μετεγνωκότι ἐπιφοιτέον ὄνειρον φαντάξεταί μοι 
+οὐδαμῶς συνεπαινέον ποιέειν με ταῦτα" νῦν δὲ καὶ 
+διαπειλῆσαν οἴχεται. εἰ ὧν θεός ἐστι ὁ ἐπιπέμπων 
+καί οἱ πάντως ἐν ἡδονῇ ἐστι γενέσθαι στρατηλασίην 
+ἐπὶ Ἑλλάδα, ἐπιπτήσεται καὶ σοὶ τὠυτὸ τοῦτο 
+ὄνειρον, ὁμοίως καὶ ἐμοὶ ἐντελλόμενον. εὑρίσκω 
+δὲ ὧδ᾽ ἂν γινόμενα ταῦτα, ei λάβοις τὴν. ἐμὴν 
+σκευὴν πᾶσαν καὶ ἐνδὺς μετὰ τοῦτο ἴζοιο ἐς τὸν 
+ἐμὸν θρόνον, καὶ ἔπειτα ἐν κοίτῃ τῇ ἐμῇ κατυπνώ- 
+seas.” 
+
+16. Ἐέρξης μὲν ταῦτά οἱ ἔλεγε" ᾿Αρτάβανος δὲ 
+οὐ πρώτῳ κελεύσματι πειθόμενος, οἷα οὐκ ἀξιεύμε- 
+νος ἐς τὸν ; βασιλήιον θρόνον ἵξεσθαι, τέλος ὡς ἠναγ- 
+κάξετο εἴπας τάδε ἐποίεε τὸ κελευόμενον. “Ἴσον 
+326 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 14-16 
+
+
+and did obeisance. But when night came on, the 
+same vision stood again over Xerxes as he slept, and 
+said, “ Son of Darius, hast thou then plainly renounced 
+thine army's march before the Persians, and made 
+my words of no account, as though thou hadst 
+not heard them? Know then this for a surety: if 
+thou leadest not thine army forthwith, this shall be 
+the outcome of it, that as a little while made thee 
+great and mighty, so in a moment shalt thou be 
+brought low again." 
+
+15. Greatly affrighted by the vision, Xerxes leapt 
+up from his bed, and sent a messenger to Artabanus 
+to call him; and when he came, “ Artabanus,” said 
+Xerxes, “for the moment my right judgment for- 
+sook me, and I answered your good counsel with 
+foolish words ; but after no long time I repented, and 
+saw that it was right for me to follow your advice. 
+Yet, though I desire, I cannot do it; for since I 
+have turned me and repented, a vision comes haunt- 
+ing my sight, that will in no wise consent that I 
+should do as you counsel ; and even now it has gone 
+with a threat. Now if it be a god that sends the 
+vision, and it be his full pleasure that there be this 
+expedition against Hellas, that same dream will 
+hover about you and lay on you the same charge as 
+on me; and I am persuaded that this is likeliest to 
+be, if you take α]] my attire and sit so clothed upon 
+my throne, and presently lie down to sleep in my 
+bed." 
+
+16. Thus said Xerxes; Artabanus would not obey 
+the first command, thinking it was not for him to 
+sit on the royal throne; at last he was compelled, 
+and did as he was bidden, saying first: “O king, 
+
+
+3?7 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐκεῖνο ὦ βασιλεῦ παρ᾽ ἐμοὶ κέκριται, φρονέειν τε εὖ 
+καὶ τῷ λέγοντι χρηστὰ ἐθέλειν πείθεσθαι τά σε 
+καὶ ἀμφότερα περιήκοντα ἀνθρώπων κακῶν ὁμι- 
+λίαι σφάλλουσι, κατά περ τὴν πάντων χρήησιμω- 
+τάτην ἀνθρώποισι θάλασσαν πνεύματα φασὶ 
+ἀνέμων ἐμπίπτοντα ov περιορᾶν φύσι. τῇ ἑωυτῆς 
+χρᾶσθαι. ἐμὲ δὲ ἀκούσαντα πρὸς σεῦ κακῶς οὐ 
+τοσοῦτο ἔδακε λύπη ὅσον γνωμέων δύο προκειµε- 
+νέων Πέρσῃσι, τῆς μὲν ὕβριν αὐξανούσης, τῆς δὲ 
+καταπαυούσης καὶ λεγούσης ὡς κακὸν. εἴη διδά- 
+ge. τὴν ψυχὴν πλέον τι δίζησθαι αἰεὶ ἔχειν τοῦ 
+παρεόντος, τοιουτέων προκειµενέων γνωμέων ὅτι 
+τὴν σφαλερωτέρην σεωυτῷ τε καὶ Πέρσῃσι ἆ ἀναιρέο. 
+νῦν ὧν, ἐπειδὴ τέτραψαι ἐπὶ τὴν ἀμείνω, φῇς τοι 
+μετιέντι τὸν ἐπ ᾿"Ελληνας στόλον ἐπιφοιτᾶν ὅ ὄνειρον 
+θεοῦ τινος πομπῇ, οὐκ ἑῶντά σε καταλύειν τὸν 
+στόλον. ἀλλ᾽ οὐδὲ ταῦτα ἐστι, ὦ παῖ, θεῖα. ἐνύπνια 
+γὰρ. τὰ ἐς ἀνθρώπους πεπλανημένα τοιαῦτα ἐστὶ οἷά 
+σε ἐγὼ διδάξω, ἔτεσι σεῦ πολλοῖσι πρεσβύτερος 
+ἐών" πεπλανῆσθαι αὗται μάλιστα ἐώθασι αἱ 
+ὄψιες τῶν ὀνειράτων, τά τις ἡμέρης. φροντίζει. 
+ἡμεῖς δὲ τὰς πρὸ τοῦ ἡμέρας ταύτην τὴν στρατη- 
+λασίην καὶ τὸ κάρτα εἴχομεν μετὰ χεῖρας. εἰ δὲ 
+ἄρα μή ἐστι τοῦτο τοιοῦτο οἷον ἐγὼ διαιρέω, 
+ἀλλά τι τοῦ θείου μετέχον, σὺ πᾶν αὐτὸ συλ- 
+λαβὼν εἴρηκας" φανήτω γὰρ δὴ καὶ ἐμοὶ ὡς καὶ 
+σοὶ διακελευόμενον. φανῆναι δὲ οὐδὲν. μᾶλλόν 
+μοι ὀφείλει ἔχοντι τὴν σὴν ἐσθῆτα ἡ ἢ οὐ καὶ τὴν 
+ἐμήν, οὐδέ τι μᾶλλον ἐν κοίτῃ T) on ἀναπαυομένῳ 
+ἢ οὐ καὶ ἐν τῇ ἐμῇ, εἴ πέρ γε καὶ ἄλλως ἐθέλει 
+φανῆναι. οὐ γὰρ δὴ ἐς τοσοῦτό γε εὐηθείης 
+
+
+329 
+
+
+BOOK VII. τό 
+
+
+I judge it of equal worth whether a man be wise, or 
+be willing to obey good counsel; to both of these 
+you have attained, but evil communications are your 
+bane; even as the sea, who is of all creatures the 
+most serviceable to men, is hindered (they say) from 
+following his natural bent by the blasts of winds 
+that fall upon him. But for myself—it was not the 
+hard words I had from you that stung me so much 
+as this, that when two opinions were laid before the 
+Persians, the one tending to the increase of pride, 
+and the other to its abatement, showing how evil a 
+thing it is to teach the heart continual desire of more 
+than it has, of these two opinions you preferred that 
+one which was most fraught with danger to yourself 
+and the Persians. Now, therefore, since you are 
+turned to the better opinion, you say that while you 
+would renounce your expedition against the Greeks 
+you are haunted by a dream sent by some god, 
+which forbids you to leave off from the expedition. 
+But you err again, my son ; this is none of heaven's 
+working. The roving dreams that visit men are of 
+such nature as you shall learn of me, that am' many 
+years older than you. Those visions that rove about 
+us in dreams are for the most part the thoughts of 
+the day ; and in these latter days we have been very 
+earnestly busied about this expedition. But if 
+nevertheless this be not such as I determine, and 
+have in it somewhat of heaven's will, then you have 
+spoken the conclusion of the matter; let it appear 
+to me even as it has to you, and utter its command ; 
+but if it has ever a mind to appear, I must needs 
+see it none the more by virtue of wearing your dress 
+instead of mine, and sleeping in your bed rather 
+than my own. Whatever be this that appears to 
+
+
+329 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἀνήκει τοῦτο, ὅ τι δή κοτε ἐστί, τὸ ἐπιφαινόμενόν 
+τοι ἐν τῷ ὕπνῳ, ὥστε δόξει ἐ ἐμὲ ὁρῶν σὲ εἶναι, τῇ 
+σῇ ἐσθῆτι τεκμαιρόμενον. εἰ δὲ ἐμὲ μὲν ἐν οὐδενὶ 
+λόγῳ ποιήσεται οὐδὲ ἀξιώσει ἐπιφανῆναι, οὔτε ἦν 
+
+τὴν ἐμὴν ἐσθῆτα ἔχω οὔτε ἣν τὴν σήν, ο οὐδὲ ἐ ἐπι- 
+φοιτήσει, τοῦτο ἤδη μαθητέον € ἔσται. εἰ γὰρ δὴ 
+ἐπιφοιτήσει γε συνεχέως, φαίην ἂν καὶ αὐτὸς 
+θεῖον εἶναι. εἰ δέ τοι οὕτω δεδόκηται γίνεσθαι 
+καὶ οὐκ οἷά τε αὐτὸ παρατρέψαι, ἀλλ᾽ ἤδη δεῖ ἐμὲ 
+ἐν κοίτη τῇ σῇ κατυπνῶσαι, φέρε, τούτων ἐξ ἐμεῦ 
+ἐπιτελευμένων φανήτω καὶ ἐμοί. μέχρι δὲ τούτου 
+τῇ παρεούσῃ γνώμῃ χρήσομαι.” 
+
+17. Τοσαῦτα εἴπας Ἀρτάβανος, ἐλπίξων Ξέρξην 
+ἀποδέξειν λέγοντα οὐδέν, ἐποίεε τὸ κελευόμενον. 
+ἐνδὺς δὲ τὴν Ξέρξεω ἐσθῆτα καὶ ἱξόμενος ἐς 
+τὸν ᾿Βασιλήιον .θρόνον ὡς μετὰ ταῦτα κοῖτον 
+ἐποιέετο, ἦλθέ οἱ κατυπνωμένῳ τὠυτὸ ὄνειρον τὸ 
+καὶ παρὰ Ξέρξην ἐφοίτα, ὑπερστὰν δὲ τοῦ ApTa- 
+Bávov εἶπε' “Αρα σὺ δὴ κεῖνος εἷς ὁ ἀποσπεύδων 
+Ἐἱέρξην στρατεύεσθαι ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα ὡς δὴ 
+κηδόμενος αὐτοῦ ; ; AAN οὔτε ἐς τὸ μετέπειτα οὔτε 
+
+ἐς τὸ παραυτίκα νῦν καταπροΐξεαι ἀποτράπων τὸ 
+χρεὸν γενέσθαι. Ξέρξην δὲ τὰ δεῖ ἀνηκουστέοντα 
+παθεῖν, αὐτῷ ἐκείνῳ δεδήλωται.᾽ E 
+
+18. Ταῦτά τε ἐδόκεε ᾿Αρτάβανος τὸ ὄνειρον 
+ἀπειλέειν καὶ θερμοῖσι σιδηρίοισι ἐκκαίειν αὐτοῦ 
+μέλλειν τοὺς ὀφθαλμούς. καὶ ὃς ἀμβώσας μέγα 
+ἀναθρώσκει, καὶ παριξόµενος Ξέρξῃ, d ὡς τὴν ὄψιν 
+οἱ τοῦ ἐνυπνίου διεξῆλθε ἀπηγεόμενος, δεύτερά οἱ 
+λέγει τάδε. “ ᾿Εγὼ μέν, w βασιλεῦ, οἷα ἄνθρωπος 
+ἰδὼν ἤδη πολλά τε καὶ μεγάλα πεσόντα πρήγ- 
+pata ὑπὸ ἡσσόνων, οὐκ ἔων σε τὰ πάντα τῇ 
+
+
+33° 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 16-18 
+
+
+you in your sleep, assuredly it has not come to such 
+folly as to infer from your dress that I am you, when 
+it sees me. We are now to learn if it will take no 
+account of me and not deign to appear and haunt me, 
+whether I wear your robes or my own; for if indeed 
+it wil] continually be coming, I myself would say that 
+it is of heaven’s sending. But if you are resolved 
+that so this must be done, and there is no averting 
+it, but it has come to this pass, that I must lie down 
+to sleep in your bed, so let it be; this duty I will 
+fulfil, and let the vision appear also to me. But till 
+then I will keep my present opinion." 
+
+17. So saying, Artabanus did as he was bidden, 
+hoping to prove Xerxes' words vain; he put on 
+Xerxes' robes and sat on the king'sthrone. Presently 
+while he slumbered there came to him in his sleep 
+the same dream that had haunted Xerxes, and 
+standing over him thus it spoke: “ Art thou then he 
+that would dissuade Xerxes from marching against 
+Hellas, thinking so to protect him? But neither 
+hereafter nor now shalt thou go scathless for striving 
+to turn aside that which must be. Το Xerxes him- 
+self hath it been declared what shall befal him, if he 
+disobey.” 
+
+18. With this threat (so it seemed to Artabanus) 
+the vision made as though it would burn his eyes 
+with hot irons, and he leapt up with a loud cry; then 
+sitting by Xerxes he told him all the tale of what he 
+had seen in his dream, and next he said: ** O king, 
+having seen, as much as a man may, how the greater 
+has often been brought low by the less, I was loath 
+that you should always give the rein to your youthful 
+
+
+331 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+HALKIN εἴκειν, ἐπιστάμενος ὡς κακὸν εἴη τὸ πολλῶν 
+ἐπιθυμέειν, μεμνημένος μὲν τὸν ἐπὶ Μασσαγέτας 
+Κύρου στόλον ὡς ἔπρηξε, μεμνημένος. δὲ καὶ τὸν ἐπ᾽ 
+Αἰθίοπας τὸν Καμβύσεω, συστρατευόμενος δὲ καὶ 
+Δαρείῳ ἐπὶ Σκύθας. ἐπιστάμενος ταῦτα γνώμην 
+εἶχον ἀτρεμίξοντά σε μακαριστὸν εἶναι πρὸς 
+πάντων ἀνθρώπων. ἐπεὶ δὲ δαιμονίη τις γίνεται 
+ὁρμή, καὶ “Ελληνας, ὡς οἶκε, καταλαμβάνει τις 
+φθορὴ θεήλατος, ἐ ἐγὼ μὲν καὶ αὐτὸς τράπομαι καὶ 
+τὴν γνώμην μετατίθεμαι, σὺ δὲ σήμηνον ο 
+Πέρσῃσι τὰ ἐκ τοῦ θεοῦ πεμπόμενα, χρᾶσθαι 
+κέλευε τοῖσι ἐκ σέο πρώτοισι προειρηµένοισι ἐς 
+τὴν παρασκευήν, ποίεε δὲ οὕτω ὅκως τοῦ θεοῦ 
+παραδιδόντος τῶν σῶν ἐνδεήσει μηδέν." τούτων, δὲ 
+λεχθέντων, ἐνθαῦτα ἐπαερθέντες τῇ ὄψει, ὁ ὡς ἡμέρη 
+ἐγένετο τάχιστα, Ξέρξης τε ὑπερετίθετο ταῦτα 
+Πέρσῃσι, καὶ ᾿Αρτάβανος, ὃ ὃς πρότερον ἀποσπεύδων 
+μοῦνος ἐφαίνετο, τότε ἐπισπεύδων φανερὸς ἦν. 
+
+19. Ὁρμημένῳ δὲ .Fiép£n. στρατηλατέειν μετὰ 
+ταῦτα τρίτη ὄψις ἐν τῷ ὕπνῳ ἐγένετο, τὴν οἱ 
+
+Γάγοι ἔκριναν ἀκούσαντες φέρειν τε ἐπὶ πᾶσαν 
+γῆν δουλεύσειν τέ οἱ πάντας ἀνθρώπους. ἡ δὲ 
+ὄψεις ἦν ἥδε' ἐδόκεε ὁ Ξέρξης ἐστεφανῶσθαι ἐλαίης 
+θαλλῷ, ἀπὸ δὲ τῆς -ἐλαίης τοὺς κλάδους γῆν 
+πᾶσαν ἐπισχεῖν, μετὰ δὲ ἀφανισθῆναι. περὶ τῇ 
+κεφαλῇ κείμενον τὸν στέφανον. κρινάντων δὲ 
+ταῦτα τῶν Μάγων, Ἡερσέων | τε τῶν συλλεχθέντων 
+αὐτίκα πᾶς ἀνὴρ ἐς τὴν ἀρχὴν τὴν ἑωυτοῦ ἀπελά- 
+σας εἶχε προθυμίην πᾶσαν ἐπὶ τοῖσι εἰρημένοισι, 
+θέλων αὐτὸς ἕκαστος τὰ προκείμενα δῶρα λαβεῖν, 
+καὶ Ξέρξης τοῦ στρατοῦ οὕτω ἐπάγερσιν ποιέεται, 
+χῶρον πάντα ἐρευνῶν τῆς ἠπείρου. 
+332 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 18-19 
+
+
+spirit; for I knew how evil a thing it was to have 
+many desires, remembering the end of Cyrus' ex- 
+pedition against the Massagetae and Cambyses' 
+against the Ethiopians, and having myself marched 
+with Darius against the Scythians. Knowing this, I 
+judged that you had but to abide in peace for all men 
+to deem you fortunate. But since heaven impels, 
+and the gods, as it seems, mark Hellas for destruction, 
+I myself do change and correct my judgment; and 
+do you now declare the god's message to the Persians, 
+and bid them obey your first command for all due 
+preparation: so act, that nought on your part be 
+lacking to the fulfilment of heaven's commission.” 
+After this discourse, the vision giving them courage, 
+Xerxes when daylight came imparted all this to the 
+Persians, and Artabanus now openly persuaded to 
+that course from which he alone had before openly 
+dissuaded. 
+
+19. After this Xerxes, being now intent on the 
+expedition, saw yet a third vision in his sleep, which 
+the Magians interpreted to have regard to the whole 
+earth and to signify that all men should be his 
+slaves. This was the vision: Xerxes thought that 
+he was crowned with an olive bough, the shoots of 
+which spread over the whole earth, and presently the 
+crown vanished from off his head where it was set. 
+This the Magians interpreted; and of the Persians who 
+had been assembled, every man forthwith rode away 
+to his own governorship and there used all zeal to 
+fulfil the king’s behest, each desiring to receive the 
+promised gifts; and thus it was that Xerxes dealt 
+with the mustering of his army, searching out every 
+part of the continent, 
+
+
+333 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+20. ᾿Απὸ yap Αἰγύπτου ἁλώσιος ἐπὶ μὲν τέσ- 
+cepa, ἔτεα πλήρεα παραρτέετο στρατιήν τε καὶ τὰ 
+πρόσφορα τῇ στρατιῇ, πέμπτῳ δὲ ἔτεϊ ἀνομένῳ 
+ἐστρατηλάτεε χειρὶ μεγάλῃ πλήθεος. στόλων 
+γὰρ τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν πολλῷ δὴ μέγιστος οὗτος 
+ἐγένετο, ὥστε μήτε τὸν Δαρείου τὸν ἐπὶ Σκύθας 
+παρὰ τοῦτον μηδένα φαίνεσθαι, μήτε τὸν Σκυθικόν, 
+ὅτε Σκύθαι Κιμμερίους διώκοντες ἐς τὴν Μηδικὴν 
+χώρην ἐσβαλόντες σχεδὸν πάντα τὰ ἄνω τῆς 
+᾿Ασίης καταστρεψάμενοι ἐνέμοντο, τῶν εἵνεκεν 
+ὕστερον Δαρεῖος ἐτιμωρέετο, μήτε κατὰ τὰ λεγό- 
+μενα τὸν ᾿Ατρειδέων ἐς Ἴλιον, μήτε τὸν Μυσῶν τε 
+καὶ Τευκρῶν τὸν πρὸ τῶν Τρωικῶν γενόμενον, oi 
+διαβάντες ἐς τὴν Εὐρώπην κατὰ Βόσπορον τούς 
+τε (Θρήικας κατεστρέψαντο πάντας καὶ ἐπὶ τὸν 
+Ἰόνιον πόντον κατέβησαν, μέχρι τε Πηνειοῦ 
+ποταμοῦ τὸ πρὸς μεσαμβρίης ἤλασαν. 
+
+2]. Αὗται αἱ πᾶσαι οὐδ᾽ εἰ ἕτεραι πρὸς ταύτῃσι 
+προσγενόμεναι στρατηλασίαι μιῆς τῆσδε οὐκ 
+ἄξιαι. τί γὰρ οὐκ ἤγαγε ἐκ τῆς ᾿Ασίης ἔθνος ἐπὶ 
+τὴν [λλάδα Ξέρξης ; κοῖον δὲ πινόμενόν μιν ὕδωρ 
+οὐκ ἐπέλιπε, πλὴν τῶν μεγάλων ποταμῶν ; οἳ 
+μὲν γὰρ νέας παρείχοντο, of δὲ ἐς πεζὸν ἐτετάχατο, 
+τοῖσι δὲ ἵππος προσετέτακτο, τοῖσι δὲ ἱππαγωγὰ 
+πλοῖα ἅμα στρατευομένοισι, τοῖσι δὲ ἐς τὰς 
+γεφύρας μακρὰς νέας παρέχειν, τοῖσι δὲ σῖτά τε 
+καὶ νέας. 
+
+22. Καὶ τοῦτο μέν, ὡς προσπταισάντων τῶν 
+πρώτων περιπλεόντων περὶ τὸν "Αθων προετοιµά- 
+
+
+1 484-481, 3 Cp. I. 103; IV. 1. 
+3 It seems fairly clear that there was some sort of move- 
+
+
+334 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 20-22 
+
+
+20. For full four years 1 from the conquest of Egypt 
+he was equipping his host and preparing all that was 
+needful therefor; and ere the fifth year was com- 
+pleted he set forth on his march with the might of a 
+great multitude. Of all armaments whereof we have 
+knowledge this was by much the greatest, insomuch 
+that none were aught in comparison of it, neither the 
+armament that Darius led against the Scythians, nor 
+the host of the Scythians when in pursuit of the 
+Cimmerians they brake into Media? and subdued and 
+ruled wellnigh all the upper lands of Asia, wherefor 
+Darius afterwards essayed to punish them, nor—in so 
+far as report tells—the armament led by the sons of 
+Atreus against Troy, nor that Mysian and Teucrian 
+host which before the Trojan war crossed the Bosporus 
+into Europe,’ subduing there all the Thracians and 
+coming down to the Ionian sea, and marching south- 
+ward as far as the river Peneus. 
+
+21. All these armaments and whatsoever others 
+have ever been could not together be compared with 
+this single one. For what nation did not Xerxes lead 
+from Asia against Hellas? What water did not fall 
+short of the needs of his host, save only the great 
+rivers? Some supplied him with ships, some were 
+enrolled in his infantry, some were charged with the 
+provision of horsemen, others of horse-bearing trans- 
+ports to follow the army, and others again of war- 
+ships for the bridges, or of food and ships. 
+
+22. First of all he had now for about three years 
+been making all his preparations in regard of Athos, 
+
+
+ment from the one continent to the other; Herodotus makes 
+it from Asia to Europe; but on the evidence it is just as 
+likely to have been the other way. See How and Wells, 
+ad loc. 
+
+
+335 
+
+
+i HERODOTUS 
+
+
+eTo ἐκ τριῶν ἐτέων κου μάλιστα τὰ ἐς τὸν ᾿Αόων. 
+ἐν γὰρ ᾿Βλαιοῦντι τῆς Χερσονήσου ὅ ὅρμεον τριήρεες" 
+ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ ὁρμώμενοι ὥρυσσον d^ .μαστίγων 
+παντοδαποὶ τῆς στρατιῆς, διάδοχοι δ᾽ ἐφοίτεον' 
+ὤρυσσον δὲ καὶ οἱ περὶ τὸν "Alov κατοικημένοι. 
+Βουβάρης δὲ ὁ Μεγαβάξου καὶ ᾿Αρταχαίης ὁ 
+᾿Αρταίου ἄνδρες Πέρσαι, ἐπέστασαν τοῦ ἔργου. ὁ 
+γὰρ Ἄθως ἐστὶ ὄρος μέγα τε καὶ ὀνομαστόν, ἐς 
+θάλασσαν κατῆκον, οἰκημένον ὑπὸ ἀνθρώπων. 
+τῇ δὲ τελευτᾷ ἐς τὴν ἤπειρον τὸ ὄρος, χερσονη- 
+σοειδές τε ἐστὶ καὶ ἰσθμὸς ὡς δυώδεκα σταδίων" 
+πεδίον δὲ τοῦτο καὶ κολωνοὶ οὐ μεγάλοι ἐκ θαλάσ- 
+σης τῆς ᾿Ακανθίων ἐπὶ θάλασσαν τὴν ἀντίον 
+Τορώνης. ἐν δὲ τῷ ἰσθμῷ τούτῳ, ἐς τὸν τελευτᾷ 
+o Άθως, Σάνη πόλις Ἑλλὰς οἴκηται, αἳ δὲ 
+ἐκτὸς Σάνης, ἔσω δὲ τοῦ Ἄθω οἰκήμέναι, τὰς 
+τότε ὁ Πέρσης νησιώτιδας ἀντὶ ἠπειρωτίδων 
+ὅρμητο moe’ εἰσὶ δὲ aide, Δῖον ᾿Ολόφυξος 
+᾿Ακρόθῳον Θύσσος Κλεωναί. 
+
+23. Πόλιες μὲν αὗται ai τὸν "Αθων νέμονται, 
+ὥρυσσον δὲ ὧδε δασάμενοι τὸν χῶρον οἱ βάρ- 
+Bapor κατὰ ἔθνεα' κατὰ Σάνην πόλιν σχοινο- 
+Teves ποιησάμενοι, ἐπείτε ἐγίνετο βαθέα ἡ Du 
+οἳ μὲν κατώτατα ἑστεῶτες ὤρυσσον, ἕτεροι 
+παρεδίδοσαν τὸν αἰεὶ ἐξορυσσόμενον οὖν ἄλλοισι 
+κατύπερθε ἑστεῶσι ἐπὶ βάθρων, ot Ò ab ἐκδεκό- 
+μενοι ἑτέροισι, ἕως ἀπίκοντο ἐς τοὺς ἀνωτάτω" 
+οὗτοι δὲ ἐξεφόρεόν τε καὶ ἐξέβαλλον. τοῖσι μέν 
+νυν ἄλλοισι πλὴν Φοινίκων καταρρηγνύμενοι οἱ 
+
+
+1 In spite of the incredulity of antiquity, the canal was 
+336 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 22-23 
+
+
+inasmuch as they who first essayed to sail round it 
+had suffered shipwreck.  Triremes were anchored 
+off Elaeus in the Chersonese; with these for their 
+headquarters, all sorts and conditions of men in the 
+army were made to dig a canal under the lash, 
+coming by turns to the work ; and they that dwelt 
+about Athos dug likewise. Bubares son of Megabazus 
+and Artachaees son of Artaeus, Persians both, were 
+the overseers of the workmen. This Athos is a 
+mountain great and famous, running out into the 
+sea; it is inhabited by men. At the mountain's 
+landward end, it is in the form of a peninsula, and 
+there is an isthmus of about twelve furlongs’ width ; 
+here is a place of level ground or little hills, from the 
+sea by Acanthus to the sea which is over against 
+Torone. On this isthmus, which is at the end of 
+Athos, there stands a Greek town, Sane; there are 
+others too seaward of Sane and landward of Athos, 
+which it was now the Persians’ intent to make into 
+island and not mainland towns; to wit, Dimn, 
+Olophyxus, Acrothoum, Thyssus, Cleonae. 
+
+23. These are the towns situate on Athos; and 
+the foreigners dug as I shall show,! dividing up the 
+ground among their several nations. They drew a 
+straight line near to the town of Sane; and when the 
+channel had been digged to some depth, some stood 
+at the bottom of it and dug, others took the stuff as 
+it was digged out and delivered it to yet others that 
+stood higher on stages, and they again to others as 
+they received it, till they came to those that were 
+highest ; these carried it out and castitaway. With 
+all save only the Phoenicians the steep sides of the 
+
+
+no doubt actually made and used. ‘Traces of it are said to 
+exist. See, e.g. How and Wells, ad loc. 
+337 
+
+
+VOL. III, Z 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+κρημνοὶ τοῦ ὀρύγματος πόνον διπλήσιον παρεῖχον" 
+ἆτε γὰρ τοῦ τε ἄνω στόματος καὶ τοῦ κάτω τὰ 
+αὐτὰ μέτρα ποιευμένων, ἔμελλέ σφι τοιοῦτο ano- 
+βήσεσθαι. ot δὲ Φοίνικες σοφίην. ἔν τε τοῖσι 
+ἄλλοισι ἔργοισι ἀποδείκνυνται καὶ δὴ καὶ ἐν 
+ἐκείνῳ. ἀπολαχόντες γὰρ μόριον ὅσον αὐτοῖσι 
+ἐπέβαλλε, ὤρυσσον τὸ μὲν ἄνω στόμα τῆς 
+διώρυχος ποιεῦντες διπλήσιον ἢ ὅσον ἔδεε αὐτὴν 
+τὴν διώρυχα γενέσθαι, προβαίνοντος δὲ τοῦ ἔργου 
+συνῆγον alei’ κάτω τε δὴ ἐγίνετο καὶ ἐξισοῦτο τοῖσι 
+ἄλλοισι τὸ ἔργον. ἐνθαῦτα λειμών ἐστι, ἵνα σφι 
+ἀγορή τε ἐγίνετο καὶ πρητήριον' σῖτος δέ σφι 
+πολλὸς ἐφοίτα ἐκ τῆς Acus ἀληλεσμένος. 
+
+24. Ὡς μὲν ἐμὲ συμβαλλόμενον εὑρίσκειν, μεγα- 
+λοφροσύνης εἵνεκεν αὐτὸ Ξέρξης ὁ ὀρύσσειν ἐκέλευε, 
+ἐθέλων τε δύναμιν ἀποδείκνυσθαι καὶ μνημόσυνα 
+λυπέσθαι: παρεὸν γὰρ μηδένα πόνον λαβόντας 
+τὸν ἐσθμὸν τὰς νέας διειρύσαι, ὀρύσσειν ἐκέλευε 
+διώρυχα τῇ θαλάσσῃ εὗρος ὡς δύο τριήρεας 
+πλέειν ὁμοῦ ἐλαστρεομένας. τοῖσι δὲ αὐτοῖσι 
+τούτοισι, τοῖσί περ καὶ τὸ ὄρυγμα, προσετέτακτο 
+καὶ τὸν Στρυμόνα ποταμὸν ξεύξαντας γεφυρῶσαι. 
+
+25. Ταῦτα μέν νυν οὕτω ἐποίεε, παρεσκευάζετο 
+δὲ καὶ ὅπλα ἐς τὰς γεφύρας βύβλινά τε καὶ λευ- 
+κολίνου, ἐπιτάξας Φοίνιξί τε καὶ Αἰγυπτίοισι, καὶ 
+σιτία τῇ στρατιῇ καταβάλλειν, ἵνα μὴ λιμήνειε 7) 
+στρατιὴ μηδὲ τὰ ὑποξύγια ἐλαυνόμενα ἐπὶ τὴν 
+Ἑλλάδα" ἀναπυθόμενος δὲ τοὺς χώρους κατα- 
+βάλλειν ἐκέλευε iva ἐπιτηδεότατον εἴη, ἄλλα 
+ἄλλῃ ἀγινέοντας ὀλκάσι τε καὶ πορθμηίοισι ἐκ 
+τῆς ᾿Ασίης πανταχόθεν. τὸν δὲ ὧν πλεῖστον ἐς 
+
+
+338 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 23-25 
+
+
+canal brake and fell, doubling the labour thereby ; 
+for inasmuch as they made the span of the same 
+breadth at its highest and its lowest, this could not 
+but happen. But the Phoenicians showed therein 
+the same skill as in all else that they do; having 
+taken in hand the portion that fell to them, they so 
+dug as to make the topmost span of the canal as 
+wide again as the canal was to be, and narrowed it 
+ever as they wrought lower, till at the bottom their 
+work was of the same span as what the rest had 
+wrought. There is a meadow hard by, where they 
+made a place for buying and marketing; and ever 
+and anon much ground grain was brought to them 
+from Asia. 
+
+24. As faras I judge by conjecture, Xerxes gave 
+command for this digging out of pride, because he 
+would display his power and leave memorials of it ; 
+for they might very easily have drawn their ships 
+across the isthmus; yet he bade them dig a canal 
+from sea to sea, wide enough to float two triremes 
+rowed abreast. The same men who were charged 
+with the digging were also charged to join the 
+banks of the river Strymon by a bridge. 
+
+25. Thus did Xerxes accomplish this work; and 
+for the bridges he charged the Phoenicians and 
+Egyptians with the making of ropes of papyrus and 
+white flax,! and storing of provision for his army, 
+that neither it nor the beasts of burden in the 
+march to Hellas should starve; in such places as 
+enquiry showed to be the fittest he bade them store 
+it, carrying it to the several places from all parts of 
+Asia in vessels of merchandise and transports. For 
+
+
+1 λευκόλινον is apparently not really flax but '' Esparto 
+grass," imported from Spain by the Phoenicians. 
+
+
+339 
+
+
+ HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Λευκὴν ἀκτὴν καλεομένην τῆς Θρηίκης ἀγίνεον, οἳ 
+p ἐς Τυρόδιξαν τὴν Περινθίων, οἳ δὲ ἐς Δορίσκον, 
+
+ὃ δὲ ἐς Ἠιόνα τὴν ἐπὶ Στρυμόνι, of δὲ ἐς Maxe- 
+Sovins διατεταγμένοι. 
+
+26. Ἐν ᾧ δὲ οὗτοι τὸν προκείμενον πόνον 
+ἐργάξοντο, ἐ ἐν τούτῳ ὁ πεζὸς ἅπας συλλελεγμένος 
+ἅμα Ξέρξῃ ἐπορεύετο ἐς Σάρδις, ἐκ Κριτάλλων 
+ὁρμηθεὶς τῶν ἐν Καππαδοκίῃ' ἐνθαῦτα γὰρ εἴρητο 
+συλλέγεσθαι πάντα τὸν KAT ἤπειρον μέλλοντα 
+ἅμα αὐτῷ Ξέρξη πορεύεσθαι στρατόν. ὃς μέν 
+νυν τῶν ὑπάρχων στρατὸν κάλλιστα ἐσταλμένον 
+ἀγαγὼν τὰ προκείμενα παρὰ βασιλέος ἔλαβε 
+δῶρα, οὐκ ἔχω φράσαι: οὐδὲ γὰρ. ἀρχὴν ἐς κρίσιν 
+τούτου πέρι ἐλθόντας οἶδα. οἳ δὲ ἐπείτε δια- 
+βάντες τὸν Αλυν ποταμὸν ὡμίλησαν τῇ Φρυγίῃ, 
+δι᾽ αὐτῆς πορευόμενοι ἀπίκοντο ἐς Κελαινάς, i iva 
+πηγαὶ ἀναδιδοῦσι Μαιάνδρου ποταμοῦ καὶ ἑτέρου 
+οὐκ ἐλάσσονος ἢ Μαιάνδρου, τῷ οὔνομα τυγχάνει 
+ἐὸν Καταρρήκτης, ὃς ἐξ αὐτῆς τῆς ἀγορῆς τῆς 
+Κελαινέων ἀνατέλλων ἐς τὸν Μαίανδρον ἐκδιδοῦ" 
+ἐν τῇ καὶ ὁ τοῦ Σιληνοῦ Μα σύεω ἀσκὸς 
+ἀνακρέμαται, τὸν ὑπὸ «Φρυγῶν λόγος ἔχει ὑπὸ 
+᾿Απόλλωνος ἐκδαρέντα ἀνακρεμασθῆναι. 
+
+2f. Ἐν ταύτῃ τῇ πόλι ὑποκατήμενος Πύθιος ὁ ὁ 
+᾿Ατυος d ἀνὴρ Λυδὸς ἐξείνισε τὴν βασιλέος στρατιὴν 
+πᾶσαν ξεινίοισι μεγίστοισι καὶ αὐτὸν Ἐέρξην, 
+χρήματά τε ἐπαγγέλλετο βουλόμενος ἐς τὸν 
+πόλεμον παρέχειν. ἐπαγγελλομένου δὲ χρήματα 
+Πυθίου, εἴρετο Ξέρξης Περσέων τοὺς παρεόντας 
+
+
+1 This implies a considerable divergence to the south from 
+the ‘‘ Royal road," for which see V. 59. Xerxes here turns 
+
+
+340 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 25-27 
+
+
+the corn, they brought that as they were severally 
+charged to the White Headland (as it is called) in 
+Thrace, or Tyrodiza in the Perinthian country, or 
+Doriscus, or Eion on the Strymon, or Macedonia. 
+
+26. While these wrought at their appointed task, 
+all the land force had been mustered and was 
+marching with Xerxes to Sardis, setting forth from 
+Critalla in Cappadocia, which was the mustering- 
+place appointed for all the host that was to march 
+with Xerxes himself by land. Now which of his 
+viceroys received the promised gifts from the king 
+for bringing the best-equipped army, I cannot say ; 
+for I know not even if the matter was ever deter- 
+mined. But when they had crossed the river Halys 
+and entered into Phrygia, they marched through 
+that country to Celaenae,! where is the source of 
+the river Maeander and another as great as the 
+Maeander, which is called Cataractes ; it rises in the 
+very market-place of Celaenae and issues into 
+the Maeander. There also hangs the skin of Marsyas 
+the Silenus, of which the Phrygian story tells that 
+it was flayed off him and hung up by Apollo.? 
+
+27. In this town sat awaiting them a Lydian, 
+Pythius, son of Atys; he entertained Xerxes him- 
+self and all the king's army with the best of good 
+cheer, and declared himself willing to provide money 
+for the war. Pythius thus offering money, Xerxes 
+asked the Persians that were about him who this 
+
+
+south to avoid the difficult route through the Hermes valley, 
+probably ; cp. How and Wells, ad loc. 
+
+2 The legend of the contest between Marsyas the flute- 
+player and Apollo the lyre-player seems to indicate a change 
+in the national music, the importance of which was more 
+easily understood by a Greek than it is by us. 
+
+
+341 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τίς τε ἐὼν ἀνδρῶν. Πύθιος καὶ κόσα Χρήματα 
+ἐκτημένος ἐπαγγέλλοιτο ταῦτα. οἳ δὲ εἶπαν '“Ὦ 
+Βασιλεῦ, οὗτος ἐστὶ ὅς τοι τὸν πατέρα Δαρεῖον 
+ἐδωρήσατο. τῇ πλατανίστῳ τῇ χρυσέῃ καὶ τῇ. 
+ἀμπέλφ' ὃς καὶ νῦν ἐστι πρῶτος ἀνθρώπων 
+πλούτῳ τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν. μετὰ σέ. 
+
+28. Θωμάσας δὲ τῶν ἐπέων τὸ τελευταῖον 
+Ἐέρξης αὐτὸς δεύτερα εἴρετο Πύθιον ὁ ὁκόσα οἱ εἴη 
+χρήματα. ὃ δὲ εἶπε“ Ὢ βασιλεῦ, οὔτε σε ἆπο- 
+κρύψω οὔτε σκήψομαι τὸ μὴ εἰδέναι τὴν ἐμεωυτοῦ 
+οὐσίην, ἀλλ᾽ ἐπιστάμενός TOL ἀτρεκέως καταλέξω. | 
+ἐπείτε γὰρ τάχιστά σε ἐπυθόμην ἐπὶ θάλασσαν 
+καταβαίνοντα τὴν “Ελληνίδα, βουλόμενός τοι 
+δοῦναι ἐ ἐς τὸν πόλεμον χρήματα. ἐξεμάνθανον, καὶ 
+εὗρον λογιζόμενος å ἀργυρίου μὲν δύο χιλιάδας ἐ ἐούσας 
+μοι ταλάντων, χρυσίου δὲ τετρακοσίας" μυριάδας 
+στατήρων Δαρεικῶν ἐπιδεούσας ἑπτὰ χιλιάδων. 
+καὶ τούτοισί σε ἐγὼ δωρέομαι, αὐτῷ δέ μοι ἀπὸ 
+ἀνδραπόδων τε καὶ γεωπέδων ἀρκέων ἐστὶ Bios.” 
+
+29. “O pev ταῦτα 1 ἔλεγε, Ξέρξης δὲ ἡσθεὶς τοῖσι 
+εἰρημένοισι εἶπε ««Εεῖνε Λυδέ, ἐγὼ ἐπείτε ἐξῆλθον 
+τὴν Περσίδα χώρην, οὐδενὶ ἀνδρὶ συνέμιξα ἐ ἐς τόδε 
+ὅστις ἠθέλησε ξείνια προθεῖναι στρατῷ τῷ ἐμῷ, 
+οὐδὲ ὅ ὅστις ἐς ὄψιν τὴν ἐμὴν καταστὰς αὐτεπάγ- 
+γελτος ἐς τὸν πόλεμον ἐμοὶ ἠθέλησε συμβαλέσθαι 
+χρήματα, ἔξω σεῦ. σὺ δὲ καὶ ἐξείνισας μεγάλως 
+στρατὸν τὸν ἐμὸν καὶ χρήματα μεγάλα ἐπαγγέλ.- 
+λεαι. σοὶ ὧν ἐγὼ ἆ ἀντὶ αὐτῶν γέρεα τοιάδε δίδωμι 
+ξεῖνόν τέ σε ποιεῦμαι ἐμὸν καὶ τὰς τετρακοσίας 
+μυριάδας τοι τῶν στατήρων ἀποπλήσω παρ᾽ 
+ἐμεωυτοῦ, δοὺς τὰς ἑπτὰ χιλιάδας, ἵνα μή τοι 
+ἐπιδεέες ἔωσι αἱ τετρακόσιαι μυριάδες ἑπτὰ χιλιά- 
+
+
+342 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 27-29 
+
+
+Pythius was that offered it and how much wealth 
+he possessed: * O king," said they, “this is he who 
+gave your father Darius that gift of a golden plane- 
+tree and vine; and now he is, next to yourself, the 
+richest man of whom we have knowledge." 
+
+28. Marvelling at this last saying, Xerxes next 
+himself asked Pythius how much wealth he had. “Ο 
+king," said Pythius, “I will not conceal the quantity 
+of my substance from you, nor pretend that I do not 
+know it ; I know and will tell you the exact truth. As 
+soon as I learnt that you were coming down to the 
+Greek sea, being desirous to give you money for the 
+war, I enquired into the matter, and my reckoning 
+showed me that I had two thousand talents of silver, 
+and of gold four million Daric staters! lacking seven 
+thousand. All this I freely give to you; for myself, 
+I have a sufficient livelihood from my slaves and my 
+farms." 
+
+29. Thus he spoke; Xerxes was pleased with 
+what he said, and replied: “My Lydian friend, 
+since I came out of Persia I have met with no 
+man yet who was willing to give hospitality to my 
+army, nor any who came of his own motion into my 
+presence and offered to furnish money for the war, 
+save you alone. But you have entertained my army 
+nobly, and offer me great sums. Therefore in return 
+for this I give you these privileges: I make you my 
+friend, and of my own wealth I give you the seven 
+thousand staters which will make up your full tale 
+of four millions, that your four millions may not . 
+lack the seven thousand, but by my completing of 
+
+
+'The Daric stater was equivalent to about 22s. of our 
+money. 
+
+
+343 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Sav, ἀλλὰ 7) TOL ἀπαρτιλογίη UT ἐμέο TETAN- 
+ρωμένη. ExT TO TE αὐτὸς τά περ αὐτὸς € κτήσαο, 
+επίστασό τε εἶναι αἰεὶ τοιοῦτος" οὐ γάρ τοι ταῦτα 
+ποιεῦντι οὔτε ἐς τὸ παρεὸν οὔτε ἐς χρόνον µετα- 
+µελήσει. 
+
+90. Ταῦτα δὲ εἴπας καὶ ἐπιτελέα ποιήσας ἐπο- 
+ρεύετο τὸ πρόσω αἰεὶ. "Avava δὲ καλεομένην 
+Φρυγῶν πόλιν παραμειβόμενος καὶ λίμνην ἐκ τῆς 
+ἅλες γίνονται, ἀπίκετο ἐς Κολοσσὰς πόλιν μεγά- 
+Anv Φρυγίης: ἐν τῇ Λύκος ποταμὸς ἐς χάσμα γῆς 
+ἐσβάλλων ἀφανίζεται, ἔπειτα διὰ σταδίων ὡς 
+πέντε μάλιστά Kn ἀναφαινόμενος ἐκδιδοῖ καὶ 
+οὗτος ἐς τὸν Μαίανδρον. ἐκ δὲ Κολοσσέων ὁ 
+στρατὸς ὁρμώμενος ἐπὶ τοὺς οὔρους τῶν Φρυγῶν 
+καὶ Λυδῶν a ἀπίκετο ἐς Κύδραρα πόλιν, ἔνθα στήλη 
+καταπεπηγυῖα, σταθεῖσα δὲ ὑπὸ Κροίσου, κατα- 
+d διὰ γραμμάτων τοὺς οὔρους. 
+
+Ὡς δὲ ἐκ τῆς Φρυγίης ἐσέβαλε é ἐς τὴν Λυδίην, 
+ών τῆς ὁδοῦ καὶ τῆς μὲν ἐς ἀριστερὴν 
+ἐπὶ Καρίης φερούσης τῆς δὲ ἐς δεξιὴν ἐς Σάρδις, 
+τῇ καὶ πορευομένῳ διαβῆναι τὸν Μαίανδρον ποτα- 
+μὸν πᾶσα ἀνάγκη γίνεται καὶ ἰέναι παρὰ Καλ- 
+λάτηβον πόλιν, ἐν τῇ ἄνδρες δημιοεργοὶ μέλι ἐκ 
+μυρίκης τε καὶ πυροῦ ποιεῦσι, ταύτην ἰὼν ὁ Ἑέρξης 
+τὴν ὁδὸν εὗρε πλατάνιστον, τὴν κάλλεος εἵνεκα 
+δωρησάμενος κόσμῳ χρυσέῳ καὶ μελεδωνῷ ἆθα- 
+νάτῳ ἀνδρὶ ἐπιτρέψας δευτέρῃ ἡμέρῃ ἀπίκετο ἐς 
+τῶν Λυδῶν τὸ ἄστυ. 
+
+32. ᾽Απικόμενος δὲ ἐς Σάρδις πρῶτα μὲν ἀπέ- 
+πέμπε κήρυκας ἐς τὴν Ἑλλάδα αἰτήσοντας γῆν τε 
+καὶ ὕδωρ καὶ προερέοντας δεῖπνα βασιλέι tapa- 
+
+
+344 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 29-32 
+
+
+it you may have the full and exact tale. Continue 
+yourself in possession of that which you now possess, 
+and have skill ever to be such as yoy are ; for neither 
+now nor hereafter shall you repent of what you 
+now do." 
+
+30. Having thus spoken and made his words 
+good Xerxes journeyed ever further. Passing by 
+the Phrygian town called Anaua, and the lake from 
+which salt is gotten, he came to Colossae, a great 
+city in Phrygia; wherein the river Lycus plunges 
+into a cleft in the earth out of sight,! till it appears 
+again about five furlongs away and issues like the 
+other river into the Maeander. From Colossae the 
+army held its course for the borders of Phrygia and 
+Lydia, and came to the town Cydrara, where stands 
+a pillar set up by Croesus, with a writing thereon to 
+mark the boundary. 
+
+9l. Passing from Phrygia into Lydia, he came to 
+the place where the roads part, the left hand road 
+bearing towards Caria and the right hand to Sardis, 
+by which latter way the traveller must needs cross 
+the river Maeander and pass by the town of 
+Callatebus, where craftsmen make honey out of 
+wheat and tamarisks ; by this road went Xerxes, and 
+found a plane-tree, to which for its beauty he gave 
+adornment of gold, and charged one of his immortals 
+to guard it; and on the next day he came to the 
+chief city of the Lydians. 
+
+32. Having arrived in Sardis, he first sent heralds 
+to Hellas to demand earth and water and command 
+the preparation of meals for the king; to all other 
+
+
+1 The Lycus here flows in a narrow gorge, but there is no 
+indication of its ever having flowed underground, except for 
+& few yards. l 
+
+
+345 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+σκευάζειν' πλὴν οὔτε ἐς ᾿Αθήνας οὔτε ἐς Λακεδαί- 
+μονα ἀπέπεμπε ἐπὶ γῆς αἴτησιν, τῇ δὲ ἄλλη 
+πάντῃ. τῶνδε ge εἵνεκα τὸ δεύτερον ἀπέπεμπε 
+ἐπὶ γῆν τε καὶ ὕδωρ᾽ ὅσοι πρότερον οὐκ ἔδοσαν 
+Δαρείῳ πέμψαντι, τούτους πάγχυ ἐδόκεε τότε 
+δείσαντας δώσειν βουλόμενος ὧν αὐτὸ τοῦτο 
+ἐκμαθεῖν ἀκριβέως ἔπεμπε. 
+
+33. Μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα παρεσκευάξετο ὡς ἐλῶν ἐς 
+"Αβνυδον. o? δὲ ἐν τούτῳ τὸν Ελλήσποντον ἐξεύ- 
+γνυσαν ἐκ τῆς ᾿Ασίης ἐς τὴν Εὐρώπην. ἔστι δὲ 
+τῆς Χερσονήσου τῆς ἐν “Ἑλλησπόντῳ, Σηστοῦ τε 
+πόλιος μεταξὺ καὶ Μαδύτου, ἀκτὴ παχέα ἐς 
+θάλασσαν κατήκουσα ᾿Αβύδῳ καταντίον" ἔνθα 
+μετὰ ταῦτα, χρόνῳ ὕστερον οὐ πολλῷ, ἐπὶ 
+Ἐανθίππου τοῦ ᾿Αρίφρονος στρατηγοῦ ᾿Αθηναῖοι 
+᾿Αρταὔκτην ἄνδρα Πέρσην λαβόντες Σηστοῦ 
+ὕπαρχον ζῶντα πρὸς σανίδα διεπασσάλευσαν, ὃς 
+καὶ ἐς τοῦ Πρωτεσίλεω τὸ ἱρὸν ἐς ᾿Ελαιοῦντα 
+ἀγινεόμενος γυναῖκας ἀθέμιστα ἔρδεσκε. 
+
+34. Ἔς ταύτην ὧν τὴν ἀκτὴν ἐξ ᾿Λβύδου ὁρμώ- 
+μενοι ἐγεφύρουν τοῖσι προσέκειτο, τὴν μὲν λευ- 
+κολίνου Φοίνικες, τὴν δ᾽ ἑτέρην τὴν βυβλίνην 
+Αἰγύπτιοι. ἔστι δὲ ἑπτὰ στάδιοι ἐξ ᾿Αβύδου ἐς 
+τὴν ἀπαντίον. καὶ δὴ ἐξευγμένου τοῦ πόρου ἐπι- 
+γενόμενος χειμὼν μέγας συνέκοψέ τε ἐκεῖνα πάντα 
+καὶ διέλυσε. 
+
+35. Ὡς & ἐπύθετο Ξέρξης, δεινὰ ποιεύμενος 
+τὸν 'Ελλήσποντον ἐκέλευσε τριηκοσίας ἐπικέσθαι 
+μάστιγι πληγὰς καὶ κατεῖναι ἐς τὸ πέλαγος πεδέων 
+
+
+1 Between the modern bays of Zemenik (Sestos) and Kilia τ 
+some four miles broad, 
+
+
+346 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 32-35 
+
+
+places he sent to demand earth, only neither to 
+Athens nor to Lacedaemon. The reason of his 
+sending for earth and water the second time was 
+this—he fully believed that as many as had formerly 
+not given it to Darius messengers, would now be 
+compelled to give by fear; and he sent because he 
+desired to know this of a surety. 
+
+33. After this he prepared to march to Abydos; 
+and meanwhile his men were bridging the Ηε]]ες- 
+pont from Asia to Europe. On the Chersonese, 
+which is by the Hellespont, there is between the 
+town of Sestus and Madytus a broad headland! 
+running out into the sea over against Abydos; it 
+was here that not long after this the Athenians with 
+Xanthippus son of Ariphron for general took 
+Artajctes a Persian, who was governor of Sestus, 
+and crucified him alive; he had even been wont to 
+bring women into the temple of Protesilaus at Elaeus 
+and do impious deeds there. 
+
+34. Beginning then from Abydos they whose 
+business it was made bridges across to that headland, 
+the Phoenicians one of flaxen cables, and the 
+Egyptians the second, which was of papyrus. From 
+Abydos to the opposite shore it is a distance ot 
+seven furlongs.? But no sooner had the strait been 
+bridged than a great storm swept down and brake 
+and scattered all that work. 
+
+35. When Xerxes heard of that, he was very 
+angry, and gave command that the Hellespont be 
+scourged with three hundred lashes, and a pair of 
+
+
+* The modern width at the narrowest part is nearly half 
+as much again ; perhaps this cau be explained by the washing 
+away of the coasts, due to a current which strikes them near 
+Sestos and rebounds on Abydos. 
+
+
+347 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ζεῦγος. ἤδη δὲ ἤκουσα ὡς καὶ στιγέας ἅμα τού- 
+τοισι ἀπέπεμψε στίξοντας τὸν Ελλήσποντον. 
+ἐνετέλλετο δὲ ὧν ῥαπίξοντας λέγειν βάρβαρά τε 
+καὶ ἀτάσθαλα. ‘OQ πικρὸν ὕδωρ, εσπότης τοι 
+δίκην ἐπιτιθεῖ τήνδε, ὅτι μιν ἠδίκησας οὐδὲν πρὸς 
+ἐκείνου ἄδικον παθόν. καὶ βασιλεὺς μὲν Ξέρξης 
+διαβήσεταί σε, nv τε σύ γε βούλῃ ἤν τε μή" σοὶ 
+δὲ κατὰ δίκην ἆ ἄρα οὐδεὶς ἀνθρώπων θύει ὡς ἐόντι 
+καὶ θολερῷ καὶ ἁλμυρῷ ποταμῷ." τήν τε δὴ 
+θάλασσαν ἐνετέλλετο τούτοισι ζημιοῦν. καὶ τῶν 
+ἐπεστεώτων τῇ ξεύξι τοῦ Ἑλλησπόντου ἀποταμεῖν 
+τὰς κεφαλάς. 
+
+36. Kai οἳ μὲν ταῦτα ἐποίεον, τοῖσι προσέκειτο 
+αὕτη ἡ ἄχαρις τιμή, τὰς δὲ ἄλλοι ἀρχιτέκτονες 
+ἐξεύγνυσαν. ἐξεύγνυσαν δὲ ὧδε, πεντηκοντέρους 
+καὶ τριήρεας συνθέντες, ὑπὸ μὲν τὴν πρὸς τοῦ 
+Εὐξείνου πόντου ἐξήκοντά τε καὶ τριηκοσίας, ὑπὸ 
+δὲ τὴν ἑτέρην τεσσερεσκαίδεκα καὶ τριηκοσίας, 
+τοῦ uev, Πόντου ἐπικαρσίας τοῦ δὲ Ἑλλησπόντου 
+κατὰ ῥόον, ἵνα ἀνακωχεύῃ τὸν τόνον τῶν ὅπλων' 
+συνθέντες δὲ ἀγκύρας κατῆκαν περιµήκεας, τὰς 
+μὲν πρὸς τοῦ Πόντου τῆς ἑτέρης τῶν ἀνέμων 
+εἵνεκεν τῶν ἔσωθεν ἐκπνεόντων, τῆς δὲ ἑτέρης 
+πρὸς ἑσπέρης τε καὶ τοῦ Αἰγαίου ζεφύρου τε καὶ 
+νότου εἵνεκα. διέκπλοον δὲ ὑπόφαυσιν κατέλιπον 
+τῶν πεντηκοντέρων καὶ τριηρέων, ἵνα καὶ ἐς τὸν 
+Πόντον ἔχῃ ὁ βουλόμενος πλέειν πλοίοισι λεπ- 
+τοῖσι καὶ ἐκ τοῦ Πόντου ἔξω. ταῦτα δὲ ποιή- 
+
+
+! Or it may mean, as Stein thinks, that the ships of the 
+upper or N.E. bridge were ἐπικαρσίαι, and those of the lower 
+or N.W. one were κατὰ ῥόον, For a discussion of the various 
+
+
+349 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 35-36 
+
+
+fetters be thrown into the sea; nay, I have heard 
+ere now that he sent branders with the rest to brand 
+the Hellespont. This is certain, that he charged 
+them while they scourged to utter words outlandish 
+and presumptuous: “ Thou bitter water," they should 
+say, “our master thus punishes thee, because thou 
+didst him wrong albeit he had done thee none. Yea, 
+Xerxes the king will pass over thee, whether thou 
+wilt or no; it is but just that no man offers thee 
+sacrifice, for thou art a turbid and a briny river." 
+Thus he commanded that the sea should be punished, 
+and that they who had been overseers of the bridging 
+of the Hellespont should be beheaded. 
+
+36. So this was done by those who were appointed 
+to that thankless honour ; and new masters of their 
+craft set about making the bridges. The manner of 
+their doing it was as I will show. That they might 
+lighten the strain of the cables, they laid fifty-oared 
+ships and triremes alongside of each other, three 
+hundred and sixty to bear the bridge that was 
+nearest to the Euxine sea, and three hundred and 
+fourteen to bear the other; all lay obliquely to the 
+line of the Pontus and parallel with the current of 
+the Hellespont.! Having so laid the ships alongside 
+they let down very great anchors, both from the 
+end of the ship nearest the Pontus to hold fast 
+against the winds blowing from within that sea, and 
+from the other end, towards the west and the 
+Aegean, to hold against the west and south winds. 
+Moreover they left for passage an opening in the 
+line of fifty-oared ships and triremes, that so he that 
+would might be able to voyage to the Pontus, or out 
+
+
+difficulties and interpretations of the whole passage, see How 
+and Wells’ notes, ad loc. 
+
+
+349 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+σαντες κατέτεινον ἐκ γῆς στρεβλοῦντες ὄνοισι 
+ξυλίνοισι τὰ ὅπλα, οὐκέτι χωρὶς ἑκάτερα τάξαν- 
+τες, ἀλλὰ δύο μὲν λευκολίνου δασάμενοι ἐς 
+ἑκατέρην, τέσσερα δὲ τῶν βυβλίνων. παχύτης 
+μὲν ἣν ἡ αὐτὴ καὶ καλλονή, κατὰ λόγον δὲ ἐμβριθέ- 
+στερα ἦν τὰ λίνεα, τοῦ τάλαντον 0 πῆχυς εἷλκε. 
+ἐπειδὴ δὲ ἐγεφυρώθη ὁ πόρος, κορμοὺς ξύλων 
+καταπρίσαντες καὶ ποιήσαντες ἴσους τῆς σχεδίης 
+τῷ εὔρεϊ κόσμῳ ἐτίθεσαν κατύπερθε τῶν ὅπλων 
+τοῦ τόνου, θέντες δὲ ἐπεξῆς ἐνθαῦτα αὖτις ἐπεξεύ- 
+γννον" ποιήσαντες δὲ ταῦτα ὕλην ἐπεφόρησαν, 
+κόσμῳ δὲ θέντες καὶ τὴν ὕλην γῆν ἐπεφόρησαν, 
+κατανάξαντες δὲ καὶ τὴν P φραγμὸν παρείρυσαν 
+ἔνθεν καὶ ἔνθεν, í ἵνα μὴ φοβ έηται τὰ ὑποζύγια τὴν 
+θάλασσαν ὗ ὑπερορῶντα καὶ οἱ ἵπποι. 
+
+87. Ὡς δὲ τά τε τῶν γεφυρέων κατεσκεύαστο 
+καὶ τὰ περὶ τὸν "Αθων, οἵ τε χυτοὶ περὶ τὰ 
+στόματα τῆς , Siwpuxos, of τῆς ῥηχίης εἵνεκεν 
+ἐποιήθησαν, ἵνα μὴ πίμπληται τ στόµατα τοῦ 
+ὀρύγματος, καὶ αὐτὴ ἡ διῶρυξ παντελέως πεποιη- 
+μένη ἀγγέλλετο, ἐνθαῦτα χειμερίσας ἅμα τῷ ds 
+παρεσκευασμένος ὁ στρατὸς ἐκ τῶν .Σαρδί ίων 
+ὀρμᾶτο ἐλῶν ἐς "Αβυδον' ὁρμημένῳ δέ οἱ ὁ ἥλιος 
+ἐκλιπὼν τὴν ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ ἕδρην ἀφανὴς ἦν οὔτ᾽ 
+ἐπινεφέλων ἐόντων. αἰθρίης τε τὰ μάλιστα, ἀντὶ 
+ἡμέρης τε νὺξ ἐγένετο. ἰδόντι δε καὶ μαθόντι 
+τοῦτο τῷ Ξέρξῃ ἐπιμελὲς ἐγένετο, καὶ εἴρετο τοὺς 
+Μάγους τὸ θέλει προφαίνειν τὸ φάσμα, οἳ δὲ 
+μα ὡς Ἓλλησι προδεικνύει ὁ θεὸς ἔκλειψιν 
+
+
+1 About 80 lbs. 
+2 i.e. the line of ships supporting the cables. 
+
+
+359 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 36-37 
+
+
+of it. Having so done, they stretched the cables from 
+the land, twisting them taut with wooden windlasses ; 
+and they did not as before keep the two kinds apart, 
+but assigned for each bridge two cables of flax and 
+four of papyrus. All these were of the same thick- 
+ness and fair appearance, but the flaxen were 
+heavier in their proportion, a cubit thereof weighing 
+a talent! When the strait was thus bridged, they 
+sawed balks of wood to a length equal to the breadth 
+of the floating supports,? and laid them in order on 
+the taut cables, and having set them alongside they 
+then made them fast. This done, they heaped 
+brushwood on to the bridge, and when this was all 
+laid in order they heaped earth on it and stamped 
+it down; then they made a fence on either side, 
+lest the beasts of burden and horses should be 
+affrighted by the sight of the sea below them. 
+
+37. When the bridges and the work at Athos 
+were ready, and the moles at the canal's entrances, 
+that were built to prevent the surf from silting up 
+the entrances of the digged passage, and the canal 
+itself was reported to be now perfectly made, the 
+army then wintered, and at the beginning of spring? 
+was ready and set forth from Sardis to march to 
+Abydos. When they had set forth, the sun left his 
+place in the heaven and was unseen, albeit the sky 
+was without clouds and very clear, and the day was 
+turned into night. When Xerxes saw and took 
+note of that, he was moved to think upon it, and 
+asked the Magians what the vision might signify. 
+They declared to him, that the god was showing to 
+the Greeks the desolation of their cities; for the 
+
+
+* Probably about the middle of April 480. 
+354 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τῶν πολίων, λέγοντες ἥλιον εἶναι Ελλήνων προ- 
+δέκτορα, σελήνην δὲ σφέων. ταῦτα πυθόμενος ὁ 
+POETE dir ain ἐὼν ἐποιέετο τὴν ἔλασιν, 
+
+Ὡς & ἐξήλαυνε τὴν στρατιήν, Πύθιος ὁ 
+fine καταρρωδήσας τὸ ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ τ 
+ἐπαερθείς τε τοῖσι δωρήμασι, ἐλθὼν παρὰ Ξέρξην 
+ἔλεγε τάδε. ‘CQ δέσποτα, χρηίσας ἄν τι σεῦ 
+βουλοίμην τυχεῖν, τὸ σοὶ μὲν ἐλαφρὸν τυγχάνει 
+ἐὸν ὑπουργῆσαι, ἐμοὶ δὲ μέγα γενόμενον.” Εέρξης 
+δὲ πᾶν μᾶλλον δοκέων uy xpnia ew ἦ τὸ ἐδεήθη, 
+ἔφη τε ὑπουργήσειν καὶ δὴ ἀγορεύειν ἐκέλευε ὅτευ 
+δέοιτο. ὃ δὲ ἐπείτε ταῦτα ἤκουσε, ἔλεγε θαρσή- 
+σας τάδε. O δέσποτα, τυγχάνουσί μοι παΐδες 
+ἐόντες πέντε, καί σφεας καταλαμβάνει πάντας 
+ἅμα σοὶ στρατεύεσθαι ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα. σὺ δέ, 
+à βασιλεῦ, ἐμὲ ἐς τόδε ἡλικίης ἥκοντα οἰκτείρας 
+τῶν μοι παίδων ἕνα παράλυσον τῆς στρατηΐης 
+τὸν πρεσβύτατον, iva αὐτοῦ τε ἐμεῦ καὶ τῶν 
+χρημάτων ῇ μελεδωνός: τοὺς δὲ τέσσερας. ἄγευ 
+ἅμα σεωυτῷ, καὶ πρήξας τὰ νοέεις νοστήσειας 
+ὀπίσω. 
+
+39. Kapra TE ἐθυμώθη ὁ 0 Ξέρξη» καὶ ἀμείβετο 
+τοῖσιδε. ‘CQ κακὲ ἄνθρωπε, σὺ ἐτόλμησας, ἐμεῦ 
+στρατευομένου αὐτοῦ ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα καὶ ἄγοντος 
+παῖδας ἐμοὺς καὶ ἀδελφεοὺς καὶ oixnious καὶ 
+φίλους, μνήσασθαι περὶ σέο παιδός, ἐὼν ἐμὸς 
+δοῦλος, τὸν Χρῆν πανοικίῃ αὐτῇ τῇ γυναικὶ συν- 
+έπεσθαι; εὖ νυν τόδ᾽ ἐξεπίστασο, ὡς ἐν τοῖσι ὠσὶ 
+τῶν «ἀνθρώπων οἰκέει ὁ θυμός, ὃς χρηστὰ μὲν 
+ἀκούσας τέρψιος ἐμπιπλεῖ τὸ σῶμα, ὑπεναντία 
+δὲ τούτοισι ἀκούσας ἀνοιδέει. ὅτε μέν νυν χρηστὰ 
+ποιήσας ἕτερα τοιαῦτα ἐπηγγέλλεο, εὐεργεσίῃσι 
+
+
+352 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 37-39 
+
+
+sun (they said) was the prophet of the Greeks, as 
+the moon was theirs. Xerxes rejoiced exceedingly to 
+hear that, and kept on his march. 
+
+38. As he led his army away, Pythius the Lydian, 
+being affrighted by the heavenly vision and encour- 
+aged by the gifts that he had received, came to 
+Xerxes and said, “Sire, I have a boon to ask that 
+I desire of you, easy for you to grant and precious 
+for me to receive.” Xerxes, supposing that Pythius 
+would demand anything rather than what he did 
+verily ask, answered that he would grant the boon, 
+and bade him declare what he desired. Thereupon 
+Pythius took courage and said: ‘Sire, I have five 
+sons, and all of them are constrained to march with 
+you against Hellas. I pray you, O king! take pity 
+on me that am so old, and release one of my sons, 
+even the eldest, from service, that he may take care 
+of me and of my possessions; take the four others 
+with you, and may you return back with all your 
+design accomplished." 
+
+39. Xerxes was very angry, and thus replied: 
+« Villain, you see me myself marching against Hellas, 
+and taking with me my sons and brothers and kins- 
+folk and friends; and do you, my slave—who should 
+have followed me with all your household and your 
+very wife—speak to me of your son? Then be well 
+assured of this, that a man's spirit dwells in his 
+ears; when it hears good words it fills the whole 
+body with delight, but when it hears the contrary 
+thereto it swells with anger. At that time when 
+you did me good service and promised more, you 
+
+
+^ 353 
+VOL. III. AA 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+βασιλέα οὐ καυχήσεαι ὑπερβαλέσθαι' ἐπείτε δὲ 
+ἐς τὸ ἀναιδέστερον ἐτράπευ, τὴν μὲν ἀξίην οὗ 
+λάμψεαι, ἐλάσσω δὲ τῆς ἀξίης. σὲ μὲν γὰρ καὶ 
+τοὺς τέσσερας τῶν παίδων ῥύεται | τὰ ξείνια τοῦ 
+δὲ ἑνός, τοῦ περιέχεαι μάλιστα, τῇ γυχῇ ζημιώ- 
+ceat." ὡς δὲ ταῦτα ὑπεκρίνατο, αὐτίκα ἐκέλευε 
+τοῖσι προσετέτακτο ταῦτα πρήσσειν, τῶν Πυθίου 
+παίδων ἐξευρόντας τὸν πρεσβύτατον μέσον δια- 
+ταμεῖν, διαταμόντας δὲ τὰ ἡμίτομα διαθεῖναι τὸ 
+μὲν ἐπὶ δεξιὰ τῆς ὁδοῦ τὸ δ᾽ én’ ἀριστερά, καὶ 
+ταύτῃ διεξιέναι τὸν στρατόν. 
+
+40. Ποιησάντων δὲ τούτων τοῦτο, μετὰ ταῦτα 
+διεξήιε ὁ στρατός. ἡγέοντο δὲ πρῶτοι μὲν οἱ 
+σκευοφόροι τε καὶ. τὰ ὑποζύγια, μετὰ δὲ τούτους 
+σύμμικτος στρατὸς παντοίων ἐθνέων ἀναμίξ, οὐ 
+διακεκριμένοι" τῇ δὲ ὑπερημίσεες ἦσαν, ἐνθαῦτα 
+διελέλειπτο, καὶ οὐ συνέμισγον οὗτοι βασιλει. 
+προηγεῦντο μὲν δὴ ἱππόται χίλιοι, ἐκ Περσέων 
+πάντων ἀπολελεγμένοι' μετὰ δὲ αἰχμοφόροι χίλιοι 
+καὶ οὗτοι ἐκ πάντων ἀπολελεγμένοι, τὰς λόγχας 
+κάτω ἐς τὴν γῆν τρέψαντες' μετὰ δὲ i ἱροὶ Νησαῖοι 
+καλεόμενοι ἵπποι δέκα κεκοσμημένοι es κάλλιστα. 
+Νησαῖοι δὲ καλέονται t ἵπποι ἐπὶ τοῦδε' ἔστι πεδίον 
+μέγα τῆς Μηδικῆς τῷ οὔνομα ἐστὶ Νήσαιον' τοὺς 
+ὧν δὴ ἵππους τοὺς μεγάλους φέρει τὸ πεδίον 
+τοῦτο. ὄπισθε δὲ τούτων, τῶν δέκα | ἵππων ἅρμα 
+Διὸς i ἱρὸν ἐπετέτακτο, τὸ ἵπποι μὲν εἷλκον λευκοὶ 
+ὀκτώ, ὄπισθε δὲ αὖ τῶν ἵππων εἵπετο πεζῇ 
+ἡνίοχος ἐχόμενος τῶν χαλινῶν' οὐδεὶς γὰρ δὴ € ἐπὶ 
+τοῦτον τὸν θρόνον eer ἐπιβαίνει. τούτου 
+δὲ ὄπισθε αὐτὸς Ἐέρξης ἐπ ἅρματος ἵππων 
+
+
+354 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 39-40 
+
+
+will never boast that you outdid your king in the 
+matter of benefits; and now that you have turned 
+aside to the way of shamelessness, you shall receive 
+a lesser requital than you merit. You and four of 
+your sons are saved by your hospitality ; but you 
+shall be mulcted in the life of that one whom you 
+most desire to keep." With that reply, he straight- 
+way bade those who were charged to do the like to 
+find the eldest of Pythius' sons and cut him asunder, 
+then having so done to set the one half of his body 
+on the right hand of the road and the other on the 
+left, that the army might pass this way between 
+them. 
+
+40. This they did, and the army passed between. 
+First went the baggage train and the beasts of 
+burden, and after them a mixed host of all sorts 
+of nations, not according to their divisions but all 
+mingled together; when more than half had passed 
+there was a space left, and these latter came not 
+near the king. After that, first came a thousand 
+horsemen, chosen out of all Persians; next, a 
+thousand spearmen, picked men like the others, 
+carrying their spears reversed ; and after them, ten 
+horses of the breed called Nesaean, equipped with 
+all splendour. The horses are called Nesaean, 
+because there is in Media a wide plain of that name, 
+where the great horses are bred. Behind these ten 
+horses was the place of the sacred chariot of Zeus,! 
+drawn by eight white horses, the charioteer on foot 
+following the horses and holding the reins; for no 
+mortal man may mount into that seat. After these 
+came Xerxes himself in a chariot drawn by Nesaean 
+
+
+1 That is, of Ormuzd. 
+355 
+
+
+ΑΑ 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Νησαίων' παραβεβήκεε δέ οἱ ἡνίοχος τῷ οὔνομα 
+ἦν Ἡατιράμφης, Ὀτάνεω ἀνδρὸς Πέρσεω παῖς. 
+
+4]. ᾿Εξήλασε μὲν οὕτω ἐκ Σαρδίων EépEns, 
+μετεκβαίνεσκε δέ, ὅκως μιν λόγος αἱρέοι, ἐκ τοῦ 
+ἅρματος ἐς ἁρμάμαξαν. αὐτοῦ δὲ ὄπισθε αἰχμο- 
+φόροι Περσέων οἱ ἄριστοί τε καὶ γενναιότατοι 
+χίλιοι, κατὰ νόμον τὰς λόγχας ἔχοντες, μετὰ, δὲ 
+ἵππος ἄλλη χιλίη ἐκ Περσέων ἀπολελεγμένη, 
+μετὰ δὲ τὴν ἵππον ἐκ τῶν λοιπῶν Περσέων 
+ἀπολελεγμένοι μύριοι. οὗτος πεξὸς ἦν' καὶ 
+τούτων χίλιοι μὲν ἐπὶ τοῖσι δόρασι ἀντὶ τῶν 
+σαυρωτήρων ῥοιὰς. εἶχον χρυσέας καὶ πέριξ 
+συνεκλήιον τοὺς ἄλλους, οἱ δὲ εἰνακισχίλιοι 
+ἐντὸς τούτων ἐόντες -ἀργυρέας ῥοιὰς εἶχον' εἶχον 
+δὲ χρυσέας ῥοιὰς καὶ οὗ ἐς τὴν γῆν τράποντες τὰς 
+λόγχας, καὶ μῆλα οἱ ἄγχιστα ἑπόμενοι Ἐέρξῃ. 
+τοῖσι δὲ μυρίοισι ἐπετέτακτο ἵππος Περσέων 
+μυρίη. μετὰ δὲ τὴν ἵππον διέλειπε καὶ δύο 
+σταδίους, καὶ ἔπειτα ὁ λοιπὸς ὅμιλος Ñe ἀναμίζ. 
+
+49. ᾿Εποιέετο δὲ τὴν ὁδὸν ἐκ τῆς Λυδίης ὁ 
+στρατὸς ἐπί τε ποταμὸν Κάικον καὶ γῆν τὴν 
+Μυσίην, ἀπὸ δὲ Καΐκου ὁρμώμενος, Κάνης ὄρος 
+ἔχων ἐν ἀριστερῇ, διὰ τοῦ ᾿Αταρνέος ἐς Κα- 
+ρήνην πόλιν: ἀπὸ δὲ ταύτης διὰ Θήβης πεδίου 
+ἐπορεύετο, ᾿Αδραμύττειόν τε πόλιν καὶ "Avravópov 
+τὴν Πελασγίδα παραμειβόμενος. τὴν Ἴδην δὲ 
+λαβὼν ἐ ἐς ἀριστερὴν χεῖρα. ἤιε ἐς τὴν Ἰλιάδα γῆν. 
+καὶ πρῶτα μέν οἱ ὑπὸ τῇ Ἴδῃ νύκτα ἀναμείναντι 
+βρονταί τε καὶ πρηστῆρες ἐπεσπίπτουσι καί τινα 
+αὐτοῦ ταύτῃ συχνὸν ὅμιλον διέφθειραν. 
+
+48. ᾽Απικομένου δὲ τοῦ στρατοῦ ἐπὶ ποταμὸν 
+
+
+356 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 46-43 
+
+
+horses, his charioteer, Patiramphes, son of Otanes a 
+Persian, standing beside him. 
+
+4]. It was thus that Xerxes rode out of Sardis; 
+but when he was so minded he would alight from 
+the chariot into a carriage. Behind him came a 
+thousand spearmen of the best and noblest blood 
+of Persia, carrying their spears in the customary 
+manner; after them a thousand picked Persian 
+horsemen, and after the horse ten thousand that 
+were footmen, chosen out of the rest of the Persians. 
+One thousand of these latter bore golden pome- 
+granates on their spear-shafts in place of the spike, 
+and surrounded the rest; the nine thousand were 
+enclosed within, and bore silver pomegranates ; they 
+that held their spears reversed carried golden pome- 
+granates also, and they that were nearest to Xerxes, 
+apples of gold. After the ten thousand came ten 
+thousand Persian horsemen in array. After these 
+there was a space of two furlongs, and next the rest 
+of the multitude followed without order or division. 
+
+42. From Lydia the army took its course to the 
+river Caicus and the land of Mysia, and leaving the 
+Caicus, through Atarneus to the town of Carene, 
+keeping the mountain of Cane! on the left. Thence 
+they journeyed over the plain of Thebe, passing the 
+town of Adramytteum and the Pelasgian town 
+Antandrus; and then came into the territory of 
+Ilium, with Ida on their left. Then this first befel 
+them, that when they had halted for the night at 
+the foot of Ida they were smitten by a storm of 
+thunder and fiery winds, whereby very many there 
+perished. 
+
+43. When the army had come to the river Scam- 
+
+
+! Modern Kara Dagh. 
+357 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Σκάμανδρον, à ὃς πρῶτος ποταμῶν, ἐπείτε ἐκ Zap- 
+δίων ὁρμηθέντες € ἐπεχείρησαν τῇ ὁδῷ, ἐπέλιπε τὸ 
+ῥέεθρον οὐδ᾽ ἀπέχρησε τῇ στρατιῇ τε καὶ τοῖσι 
+κτήνεσι πινόμενος" ἐπὶ τοῦτον δὴ τὸν ποταμὸν 
+ὡς ἀπίκετο Ἐέρξη», ἐς τὸ Πριάμου Πέργαμον 
+ἀνέβη ἵμερον ἔχων θεήσασθαι θεησάμενος δὲ 
+καὶ πυθόμενος ἐκείνων ἕκαστα τῇ ᾿Αθηναίῃ τῇ 
+Ἰλιάδι ἔθυσε Bods χιλίας, χοὰς δὲ οἱ Μάγοι τοῖσι 
+ἥρωσι ἐχέαντο. ταῦτα δὲ ποιησαμένοισι νυκτὸς 
+φόβος ἐς τὸ στρατόπεδον ἐνέπεσε. ἅμα ἡμέρῃ 
+δὲ ἐ ἐπορεύετο ἐνθεῦτεν, ἐν ἀριστερῇ μὲν ἀπέργων 
+Ῥοΐτιον πόλιν καὶ ‘Od puvetov Kal Δάρδανον, ἤ 
+περ δὴ ᾽Αβύδῳ ὅμουρος ἐστί, ἐν δεξιῇ δὲ Γέργιθας 
+Τευκρούς. 
+
+44. ᾿Επεὶ δ᾽ ἐγένετο ἐν ᾿Αβύδῳ μέσῃ, ἠθέλησε 
+Ξέρξης ἰδέσθαι πάντα τὸν στρατόν" καὶ προ- 
+επεποίητο γὰρ ἐπὶ κολωνοῦ ἐπίτηδες αὐτῷ ταύτῃ 
+προεξέδρη λίθου λευκοῦ, ἐποίησαν δὲ ᾿Αβυδηνοὶ 
+ἐντειλαμένου πρότερον βασιλέος, ἐνθαῦτα ὡς 
+(tero, κατορῶν ἐπὶ τῆς ἠιόνος ἐθηεῖτο καὶ τὸν 
+πεζὸν καὶ τὰς νέας, θηεύμενος δὲ ἱμέρθη τῶν νεῶν 
+ἅμιλλαν γινομένην ἰδέσθαι. ἐπεὶ S ἐγένετό τε 
+καὶ ἐνίκων Φοίνικες Σιδώνιοι, ἤσθη τε τῇ ἁμίλλη 
+καὶ τῇ στρατιῇ. 
+
+45, Ὡς δὲ apa πάντα μὲν τὸν Ἑλλήσποντον 
+ὑπὸ τῶν νεῶν ἀποκεκρυμμένον, πάσας δὲ τὰς 
+ἀκτὰς καὶ τὰ ᾿Αβυδηνῶν πεδία ἐπίπλεα av- 
+θρώπων, ἐνθαῦτα ὁ Ξέρξης ἑωυτὸν ἐμακάρισε, 
+μετὰ δὲ τοῦτο ἐδάκρυσε. 
+
+40. Μαθὼν δέ μιν Apráflavos ὁ πάτρως, ὃς τὸ 
+πρῶτον γνώμην ἀπεδέξατο ἐλευθέρως οὐ συμ- 
+
+
+358 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 43-46 
+
+
+ander, which was the first river after the beginning 
+. of their march from Sardis that fell short of their 
+needs and could not suffice for the army and the 
+cattle,—being arrived at this river, Xerxes ascended 
+to the citadel of Priam, having a desire to view it ; 
+and having viewed and enquired of all that was 
+there he sacrificed a thousand kine to Athene of 
+Ilium, and the Magians offered libations to the 
+heroes. After their so doing, the army was seized 
+with a panic fear in the night. When it was day 
+they journeyed on thence, keeping on their left the 
+towns of Rhoetium and Ophryneum and Dardanus, 
+which marches with Abydos,! and on their right the 
+Teucrian Gergithae. 
+
+44. When Xerxes had come to the midst of 
+Abydos, he desired to see the whole of his army; 
+and this he could do, for a lofty seat of white stone 
+had been set up for him on a hill? there with that 
+intent, built by the people of Abydos at the king's 
+command. There Xerxes sat, and looked down on 
+the sea-shore, viewing his‘army and his fleet; and 
+as he viewed them he was fain to see the ships 
+contend in a race. They did so, and the Phoenicians 
+of Sidon won it; and Xerxes was pleased with the 
+race, and with his armament. 
+
+45. But when he saw the whole Hellespont hidden 
+by his ships, and all the shores and plains of Abydos 
+thronged with men, Xerxes first declared himself 
+happy, and presently he fell a-weeping. 
+
+46. Perceiving that, his uncle Artabanus, who in 
+the beginning had spoken his mind freely and coun- 
+
+
+! [t was about nine miles from Abydos. 
+2 Probably what is called Mal-Tepe, on the promontory 
+of Nagara. 
+
+
+359 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+βουλεύων Ἐέρξῃ στρατεύεσθαι ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα, 
+οὗτος ὠνὴρ φρασθεὶς Ἑέρξην δακρύσαντα εἴρετο 
+τάδε, “Q βασιλεῦ, ὡς πολλὸν ἀλλήλων κε- 
+χωρισμένα ἐργάσαο νῦν τε καὶ ὀλίγῳ πρότερον' 
+μακαρίσας γὰρ σεωυτὸν δακρύεις. ὃ δὲ εἶπε 
+as ᾿Εσῆλθε γάρ με λογισάμενον κατοικτεῖραι ὡς 
+βραχὺς εἴη ὁ πᾶς ἀνθρώπινος βίος, ei τούτων γε 
+ἐόντων τοσούτων οὐδεὶς ἐς ἑκατοστὸν ἔτος περι- 
+έσται. ὃ δὲ ἀμείβετο λέγων “"Ἔτερα τούτου 
+παρὰ τὴν Conv πεπόνθαμεν οἰκτρότερα. ἐν γὰρ 
+οὕτω βραχέι Bio οὐδεὶς οὕτω ἄνθρωπος ἐὼν 
+εὐδαίμων πέφυκε οὔτε τούτων οὔτε τῶν ἄλλων, 
+τῷ οὐ παραστήσεται πολλάκις καὶ οὐκὶ ἅπαξ 
+τεθνάναι βούλεσθαι μᾶλλον ἢ ζώειν. - ai τε γὰρ 
+συμφοραὶ προσπίπτουσαι καὶ αἱ νοῦσοι συνταράσ- 
+σουσαι καὶ βραχὺν ἐόντα μακρὸν δοκέειν εἶναι 
+ποιεῦσι τὸν βίον. οὕτω ὁ μὲν θάνατος μοχθηρῆς 
+ἐούσης τῆς Fons καταφυγὴ αἱρετωτάτη τῷ. av- 
+Pory γέγονε, ὁ δὲ θεὸς γλυκὺν γεύσας τὸν αἰῶνα 
+φθονερὸς ἐν αὐτῷ εὑρίσκεται ἐών.᾽ 
+
+4T. Ἐέρξης δὲ ἀμείβετο λέγων d ᾿Αρτάβανε, 
+βιοτῆς μέν νυν ἀνθρωπηΐίης πέρι, ἐούσης τοιαύτης 
+οἵην περ σὺ διαιρέαι εἶναι, παυσώμεθα, μηδὲ 
+κακῶν μεμνώμεθα χρηστὰ ἔχοντες πρήγματα ἐν 
+χερσί, φράσον δέ μοι τόδε' εἴ τοι ἡ ὄψις τοῦ 
+ἐνυπνίου μὴ .ἐναργὴς οὕτω ἐφάνη, εἶχες ἂν τὴν 
+ἀρχαίην γνώμην, οὐκ. ἐῶν με στρατεύεσθαι ἐπὶ 
+τὴν Ἑλλάδα, ἢ μετέστης ἄν; φέρε τοῦτο μοι 
+ἀπρεκέως εἰπέ. ὃ δὲ ἀμείβετο λέγων “Ὢ βα- 
+σιλεῦ, ὄψις uev 7) ἐπιφανεῖσα τοῦ ὀνείρου ὡς 
+βουλόμεθα ἀμφότεροι τελευτήσειε, € ἐγὼ δ᾽ ἔτι 
+καὶ ἐς τόδε δείματος εἰμὶ ὑπόπλεος οὐδ᾽ ἐντὸς 
+360 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 46-47 
+
+
+selled Xerxes not to march against Hellas—Arta- 
+banus, I say, marking how Xerxes wept, questioned 
+him and said, * What a distance is there, O king, 
+between your acts of this present and a little while 
+ago! Then you declared your happiness, and now 
+you weep.” “Αγ verily,” said Xerxes; “for I was 
+moved to compassion, when I considered the short- 
+ness of all human life, seeing that of all this multi- 
+tude of men not one will be alive a hundred years 
+hence.” “In our life," Artabanus answered, “we 
+have deeper sorrows to bear than that. For short 
+as our lives are, there is no man here or elsewhere 
+so fortunate, that he shall not be constrained, ay 
+many a time and not once only, to wish himself 
+dead rather than alive. Misfortunes so fall upon us 
+and sicknesses so trouble us, that they make life 
+to seem long for all its shortness. Thus is life so 
+sorry a thing that death has come to be a man’s 
+most desirable refuge therefrom ; the god is seen to 
+be envious therein, after he has given us but a taste 
+of the sweetness of living.” 
+
+47. Xerxes answered and said, * Human life, Arta- 
+banus, is such as you define it to be. Yet let us speak 
+no more of that, nor remember evils in our present 
+prosperous estate ; but tell me this. If you had not 
+seen the vision in your dream so clearly, would you 
+still have held your former opinion, and counselled 
+me not to march against Hellas, or would you have 
+changed from it? Come, tell me that truly.* Arta- 
+banus answered and said, * O king, may the vision 
+that appeared in my dream bring such an end as we- 
+both desire! But for myself, I am even now full of 
+fear, yea distraught, for many other reasons that I 
+
+
+361 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐμεωυτοῦ, ἄλλα τε πολλὰ ἐπιλεγόμενος καὶ δὴ 
+καὶ ὁρῶν τοι δύο τὰ μέγιστα πάντων ἐόντα 
+πολεμιώτατα.᾽ 
+
+48. Ξέρξης δὲ πρὸς ταῦτα ἀμείβετο τοῖσιδε. 
+** Δαιμόνιε ἀνδρῶν, κοῖα ταῦτα λέγεις εἶναι δύο 
+μοι πολεμιώτατα ; κότερώ τοι ὁ πεξὸς μεμπτὸς 
+κατὰ πλῆθος ἐστὶ καὶ τὸ Ἑλληνικὸν στράτευμα 
+φαίνεται πολλαπλήσιον ἔσεσθαι τοῦ ἡμετέρου, 
+ù τὸ ναυτικὸν τὸ ἡμέτερον λείψεσθαι τοῦ ἐκείνων, 
+ἢ καὶ συναμφότερα ταῦτα ; εὖ γάρ τοι ταύτῃ 
+φαίνεται ἐνδεέστερα εἶναι τὰ ἡμέτερα πρήγματα, 
+στρατοῦ. ἂν ἄλλου τις τὴν ταχίστην ἄγερσιν 
+ποιέοιτο.᾽ 
+
+49. Ὃ δ᾽ ἀμείθετο λέγων, «Ὦ Βασιλεῦ, οὔτε 
+στρατὸν τοῦτον, ὅστις ye σύνεσιν ἔχει, μέμφοιτ᾽ 
+ἂν οὔτε τῶν νεῶν τὸ πλῆθος" ἦν δὲ πλεῦνας 
+συλλέξῃς, τὰ δύο τοι τὰ λέγω πολλῷ ἔτι πολε- 
+μιώτερα γίνεται. τὰ δὲ δύο ταῦτα ἐστὶ γῆ τε καὶ 
+θάλασσα. οὔτε γὰρ TS. θαλάσσης ἐστὶ λιμὴν 
+τοσοῦτος οὐδαμόθι, ὡς ἐγὼ εἰκάξω, ὅ ὅστις ἐγειρο- 
+μένου χειμῶνος δεξάμενός σευ τοῦτο τὸ ναυτικὸν 
+φερέγγυος ἔσται διασῶσαι τὰς νέας. καίτοι οὐκὶ 
+ἕνα αὐτὸν δεῖ εἶναι τὸν λιμένα, ἀλλὰ παρὰ 
+πᾶσαν τὴν ἤπειρον παρ᾽ ἣν δὴ κομύξεαι. οὔκων 
+δὴ ἐόντων τοι λιμένων ὑποδεξίων, μάθε ὅτι αἱ 
+συμφοραὶ τῶν ἀνθρώπων ἄρχουσι καὶ οὐκὶ 
+ὥνθρωποι τῶν συμφορέων. — καὶ δὴ τῶν δύο τοι 
+τοῦ ἑτέρου εἰρημένου τὸ ἕτερον ἔρχομαι ἐρέων. 
+γῆ δὲ πολεμίη τῇδέ τοι κατίσταται’ ei θέλει 
+τοι μηδὲν ἀντίξοον .καταστῆναι, τοσούτῳ τοι 
+γίνεται πολεμιωτέρη ὅ ὅσῳ ἂν προβαίνῃς ἑ ἑκαστέρω, 
+τὸ πρόσω αἰεὶ κλεπτόμενος εὐπρηξίης δὲ οὐκ 
+362 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 47—49 
+
+
+have, and this in especial —that I see the two greatest 
+things in the world to be most your enemies." 
+
+48. “Sir,” Xerxes answered, “I marvel at you. 
+What are these two things that you say are most 
+my enemies? Is it that you find some fault with 
+the numbers of my land army, and suppose that the 
+Greek host will be many times greater than ours? 
+Or think you that our navy will fall short of theirs? 
+Or that the fault is in both? For if inthis regard our 
+power seems to you to lack aught, it were best to 
+muster another host with all speed." 
+
+49. “O king," Artabanus answered and said, 
+* there is no fault that any man of sound judgment 
+could find either with this army or with the number 
+of your ships; and if you gather more, those two 
+things whereof I speak grow yet the more your 
+enemies. These two are the land and the sea. 
+The sea has nowhere any harbour, as I guess, that 
+if a storm arise will be warrantable to receive this 
+navy and save your ships. Yet such harbours there 
+should be, not in one place alone but all along 
+the land along which you sail Seeing then that 
+there are no harbours able to receive you, learn 
+thereby that men are the subjects and not the 
+rulers of their accidents. Now I have spoken of 
+one of the two, and I will tell you of the other: 
+this is how the land is your enemy: if so be that 
+nothing stands in your way to hinder you, the land 
+is the more your enemy the further you advance, 
+with never true knowledge of what lies beyond; 
+
+
+363 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἔστι ἀνθρώποισι οὐδεμία πληθώρη. καὶ δή τοι, 
+ὡς οὐδενὸς ἐναντιευμένου, λέγω τὴν χώρην πλεῦνα 
+ἐν πλέονι χρόνῳ γινομένην λιμὸν τέξεσθαι. ἀνὴρ 
+δὲ «οὕτω ἂν εἴη ἄριστος, εἰ βουλευόμενος -μὲν 
+ἀρρωδέοι, πᾶν ἐπιλεγόμενος πείσεσθαι χρῆμα, 
+ἐν δὲ τῷ ἔργῳ θρασὺς εἴη. 
+
+50. ᾿Αμείβεται Ξέρξης τοῖσιδε. i ᾿Αρτάβανε, 
+οἰκότως μὲν σύ γε τούτων ἕκαστα διαιρέαι" ἀτὰρ 
+μήτε πάντα φοβέο μήτε πᾶν ὁμοίως ἐπιλέγεο. 
+εἰ γὰρ δὴ βούλοιο ἐπὶ τῷ αἰεὶ ἐπεσφερομένῳ 
+πρήγματι τὸ πᾶν ὁμοίως ἐπιλέγεσθαι, ποιήσειας 
+ἂν οὐδαμὰ οὐδέν" κρέσσον δὲ πάντα θαρσέοντα 
+ἥμισυ τῶν δεινῶν πάσχειν μᾶλλον ἡ πᾶν χρῆμα 
+προδειµαίνοντα μηδαμὰ μηδὲν παθεῖν. εἰ δὲ 
+ἐρίζων πρὸς πᾶν τὸ λεγόμενον. μὴ τὸ βέβαιον 
+ἀποδέξεις, σφάλλεσθαι ὀφείλεις ἐν αὐτοῖσι ὁμοίως 
+καὶ ὁ ὑπεναντία τούτοισι λέξας. τοῦτο μέν νυν 
+ἐπ᾽ ἴσης ἔχει; εἰδέναι δὲ ἄνθρωπον ἐόντα κῶς 
+χρὴ τὸ βέβαιον; δοκέω μὲν οὐδαμῶς. τοῖσι 
+τοίνυν βουλομένοισι ποιέειν ὡς τὸ ἐπίπαν φιλέει 
+γίνεσθαι τὰ κέρδεα, τοῖσι δὲ ἐπιλεγομένοισί τε 
+πάντα καὶ ὀκνέουσι οὗ , μάλα ἐθέλει. ὁρᾷς τὰ 
+Περσέων πρήγματα ἐς ὃ δυνάμιος προκεχώρηκε. 
+εὖ τοίνυν ἐκεῖνοι οἱ πρὸ ἐμεῦ γενόμενοι βασιλέες 
+γνώμῃσι ἐχρέωντο ὁμοίῃσι καὶ σύ, ἢ μὴ χρεώμενοι 
+γνώμῃσι τοιαύτῃσι ἄλλους συμβούλους εἶχον 
+τοιούτους, οὐκ ἄν κοτε εἶδες αὐτὰ ἐς τοῦτο 
+προελθόντα: νῦν δὲ κινδύνους ἀναρριπτέοντες ἐς 
+τοῦτο σφέα προηγάγοντο. μεγάλα γὰρ πρήγματα 
+μεγάλοισι κινδύνοισι ἐθέλει καταιρέεσθαι. ἡμεῖς 
+τοίνυν ὁμοιεύμενοι ἐκείνοισι ὥρην τε τοῦ ἔτεος 
+καλλίστην πορευόμεθα, καὶ καταστρεψάμενοι 
+
+
+364 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 49-50 
+
+
+and no man is ever full fed with success. There- 
+fore, I say, if none withstand you, the increase of 
+your territory and the time passed in getting it will 
+beget famine. He is the best man, who is timid 
+in counsel because he takes all that may befal him 
+into account, but is in action bold.” 
+
+50. “ Artabanus,” Xerxes answered, “you do 
+reasonably in so defining all these matters. But 
+this I say, fear not everything, nor take account of 
+all alike ; for if on whatever occasion befal you were 
+minded to take everything alike into account, you 
+would never do anything; better it is to suffer half 
+the dreaded ill by facing all with a stout heart, rather 
+than to fear all chances and so suffer nought. But 
+if you quarrel with whatever is said, yet cannot 
+show where security lies, you must be proved as 
+wrong on your part as he that holds the contrary 
+opinion. In this then both are alike; and how 
+shall one that is but man know where there is 
+security? It is, I think, impossible. It is they, 
+then, who have the will to act that do oftenest win 
+the prizes, not, truly, they that palter and take 
+account of all chances. You see, to what power 
+Persia has attained. Now, if those kings who came 
+before me had held such opinions as yours, or not 
+holding them themselves had had counsellors like 
+you, you would never have seen our fortunes at 
+their present height; but as it is, those kings en- 
+countered dangers, and by so doing advanced them 
+to this height. Great successes are not won save 
+by great risks. We, then, will do as they did; 
+we are using the fairest season of the year to 
+journey in, and we will return home the conquerors 
+
+
+365 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+πᾶσαν τὴν Εὐρώπην νοστήσομεν ὀπίσω, οὔτε 
+λιμῷ ἐντυχόντες οὐδαμόθι οὔτε ἄλλο ἄχαρι οὐδὲν 
+παθόντες. τοῦτο μὲν γὰρ αὐτοὶ πολλὴν φορβὴν 
+φερόμενοι πορευόμεθα, τοῦτο δέ, τῶν ἄν κου ἐπι- 
+βέωμεν γῆν καὶ ἔθνος, τούτων τὸν σῖτον ἔξομεν' 
+ἐπ᾽ ἀροτῆρας δὲ καὶ οὐ νομάδας στρατευόμεθα 
+ἄνδρας.᾽ 
+
+51. Λέγει ApráBavos μετὰ ταῦτα “Ὦ βασιλεῦ, 
+ἐπείτε ἀρρωδέειν οὐδὲν ἐᾷς πρῆγμα, σὺ δέ μευ 
+συμβουλίην ἔνδεξαι" ἀναγκαίως γὰρ ἔχει περὶ 
+πολλῶν πρηγμάτων πλεῦνα λόγον ἐκτεῖναι. Κῦ- 
+ρος ὁ Καμβύσεω Ἰωνίην πᾶσαν πλὴν ᾿Αθηναίων 
+κατεστρέψατο δασμοφόρον εἶναι Πέρσῃσι. τού- 
+τους ὧν τοὺς ἄνδρας συμβουλεύω τοι μηδεμιῇ 
+μηχανῇ ἄγειν ἐπὶ τοὺς πατέρας" καὶ γὰρ ἄνευ 
+τούτων οἷοί τε εἰμὲν τῶν ἐχθρῶν. κατυπέρτε- 
+pot γίνεσθαι. ἢ γὰρ σφέας, ἣν ἕπωνται, δεῖ 
+ἀδικωτάτους γίνεσθαι καταδουλουμένους τὴν μη- 
+τρόπολιν, 5 δικαιοτάτους συνελευθεροῦντας. ἀδι- 
+κώτατοι μέν νυν γινόμενοι οὐδὲν κέρδος μέγα 
+ἡμῖν προσβάλλουσι, δικαιότατοι δὲ γινόμενοι 
+οἷοί τε δηλήσασθαι μεγάλως τὴν σὴν. στρατιὴν 
+γίνονται. ἐς θυμὸν ὧν βάλευ καὶ τὸ παλαιὸν 
+ἔπος ὡς εὖ εἴρηται, τὸ μὴ ἅμα ἀρχῇ πᾶν τέλος 
+καταφαίνεσθαι.” 
+
+52. ᾽Αμείβεται πρὸς ταῦτα Ἐέρξης " "A ρτάβανε, 
+τῶν ἀπεφήναο γνωμέων σφάλλεαι κατὰ ταύτην 
+δὴ μάλιστα, ὃς Ἴωνας φοβέαι μὴ μεταβάλωσι, 
+τῶν ἔχομεν γνῶμα μέγιστον, τῶν σύ τε μάρτυς 
+γίνεαι καὶ οὗ συστρατευσάμενοι Δαρείῳ ἄλλοι 
+ἐπὶ Σκύθας, ὅτι ἐπὶ τούτοισι ἡ πᾶσα Περσικὴ 
+στρατιὴ ἐγένετο διαφθεῖραι καὶ περιποιῆσαι, οἳ 
+366 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 50-52 
+
+
+of all Europe, having nowhere suffered famine or 
+any other harm; for firstly, we carry ample pro- 
+vision with us on our march, and secondly we shall 
+have the food of those whose land and nation we 
+invade; and those against whom we march are no 
+wandering tribes, but tillers of the soil." 
+
+51. Then said Artabanus : * O king, I see that you 
+will not suffer us to fear any danger; yet take from 
+me this counsel: for needs must there be much 
+speaking when our businesses are so many. Cyrus 
+son of Cambyses subdued and made tributary to 
+Persia all Ionians save only the Athenians. It is my 
+counsel, then, that you do by no means lead these 
+Ionians against the land of their fathers; even with- 
+out their aid we are well able to overcome our 
+enemies ; for if they come with our army, they must 
+behave either very unjustly by enslaving their parent 
+state or very justly by aiding it to be free. Now, if 
+they deal very unjustly, they bring us no great 
+advantage, but by dealing very justly they may well 
+thereby do great harm to your army. Take there- 
+fore to heart the truth of even that ancient saying, 
+‘That the end of every matter appeareth not at its 
+beginning.’ " 
+
+. 59. * Artabanus," Xerxes answered, “there is no 
+opinion which you have declared wherein you are so 
+misled as in this your fear lest the Ionians change 
+sides; we have the surest warranty for them (and 
+you and all that marched with Darius against the 
+Scythians can witness it) in that with these it lay to 
+destroy or to save the whole Persian army ; and they 
+
+367 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δὲ δικαιοσύνην kai πιστότητα ἐνέδωκαν, ἄχαρι 
+δὲ οὐδέν. πάρεξ δὲ τούτου, ἐν τῇ, ἡμετέρῃ κατα- 
+λιπόντας τέκνα. καὶ γυναῖκας καὶ χρήματα οὐδ᾽ 
+ἐπιλέγεσθαι χρὴ νεώτερόν | τι ποιήσειν. οὕτω μηδὲ 
+τοῦτο φοβέο, ἀλλὰ θυμὸν ἔ ἔχων ἀγαθὸν σῶξε οἶκόν 
+τε τὸν ἐμὸν καὶ τυραννίδα τὴν ἐμήν: σοὶ γὰρ ἐγὼ 
+μούνῳ ἐκ πάντων σκῆπτρα τὰ ἐμὰ ἐπιτράπω. 
+
+53. Ταῦτα εἴπας καὶ Αρτάβανον ἀποστείλας 
+ἐς Σοῦσα δεύτερα μετεπέμψατο Ξέρξης Περσέων 
+τοὺς δοκιμωτάτους ἐπεὶ δέ οἱ παρῆσαν, ἔλεγέ 
+σφι τάδε. “O Πέρσαι, τῶνδ᾽ ἐγὼ ὑμέων χρηίζων 
+συνέλεξα, ἄνδρας τε γενέσθαι ἀγαθοὺς καὶ μὴ 
+καταισχύνειν τὰ πρόσθε ἐργασμένα Πέρσῃσι, 
+ἐόντα μεγάλα τε καὶ πολλοῦ ἄξια, ἀλλ᾽ εἷς τε 
+ἕκαστος καὶ οἱ σύμπαντες προθυμίην ἔχωμεν" 
+ξυνὸν γὰρ πᾶσι τοῦτο ἀγαθὸν σπεύδεται. τῶνδε 
+δὲ εἵνεκα προαγορεύω ἀντέχεσθαι τοῦ πολέμου 
+ἐντεταμένως: ὡς γὰρ ἐγὼ πυνθάνομαι, ἐ ἐπ᾽ ἄνδρας 
+στρατευόµεθα ἀγαθούς, τῶν ἣν κρατήσωμεν, οὐ 
+μή τις ἡμῖν ἄλλος στρατὸς ἀντιστῇ κοτε àv- 
+θρώπων. νῦν δὲ διαβαίνωμεν ἐπευξάμενοι τοῖσι 
+θεοῖσι οἳ Πέρσας λελόγχασι.᾽ 
+
+54. Ταύτην μὲν τὴν ἡμέρην παρεσκευάξοντο 
+ἐς τὴν διάβασιν: τῇ δὲ ὑστεραίῃ ἀνέμενον τὸν 
+ἥλιον ἐθέλοντες ἰδέσθαι ἀνίσχοντα, θυμιήματά 
+τε παντοῖα ἐπὶ τῶν γεφυρέων καταγίξοντες καὶ 
+μυρσίνῃσι στορνύντες τὴν ὁδόν. ὡς Ò ἐπανέ- 
+τελλε ὁ ἥλιος, σπένδων ἐκ χρυσέης φιάλης 
+Ἐέρξης ἐς τὴν θάλασσαν εὔχετο πρὸς τὸν ἥλιον 
+μηδεμίαν. οἱ συντυχίην τοιαύτην γενέσθαι, ἢ 
+piv. παύσει καταστρέψασθαι τὴν Εὐρώπην 
+πρότερον ἢ ἐπὶ τέρμασι τοῖσι ἐκείνης γένηται. 
+368 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 52-54 
+
+
+gave proof of justice and faithfulness, and no evil 
+intent. Moreover, seeing that they have left in our 
+country their children and wives and possessions, we 
+need not deem it even possible that they will make 
+any violent change. Therefore be quit of that fear 
+too; keep a stout heart and guard my household 
+and sovereignty; for to you alone I entrust the 
+symbols of my kingship." 
+
+53. Having thus spoken, and sent Artabanus 
+away to Susa, Xerxes next sent for the most notable 
+among the Persians ; and when they were present, 
+«« Persians,” he said, ** I have assembled you to make 
+this demand, that you bear yourselves bravely and 
+never sully the great and glorious former achieve- 
+ments of the Persians ; let us each and all be zeal- 
+ous; for this is the common advantage of all that we 
+seek. For this cause I bid you set your hands to 
+the war with might and main ; for as I am assured, 
+we march against valiant men, whom if we over- 
+come, it is certain that no other human host will ever 
+withstand us. Now let us cross over, having first 
+prayed to the gods who hold Persia for their allotted 
+realm." 
+
+54. All that day they made preparation for the 
+crossing ; and on the next they waited till they 
+should see the sun rise, burning all kinds of incense 
+on the bridges, and strewing the way with myrtle 
+boughs. Αἲ sunrise, Xerxes poured a libation from 
+a golden phial into the sea, praying to the sun that 
+no such accident should befal him as to stay him 
+from subduing Europe ere he should. reach its 
+farthest borders. After the prayer, he cast the 
+
+
+369 
+VOL. 11, Ὦ B 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+εὐξάμενος δὲ ἐσέβαλε τὴν φιάλην ἐς τὸν Ελλή- 
+σποντον καὶ χρύσεον κρητῆρα καὶ Περσικὸν 
+ξίφος, τὸν ἀκινάκην καλέουσι. ταῦτα οὐκ ἔχω 
+ἀτρεκέως διακρῖναι οὔτε εἰ τῷ ἡλίῳ ἀνατιθεὶς 
+κατῆκε ἐς τὸ πέλαγος, οὔτε εἰ μετεμέλησέ οἱ τὸν 
+Ἑλλήσποντον μαστιγώσαντι καὶ ἀντὶ τούτων 
+τὴν θάλασσαν ἐδωρέετο. 
+
+55, Ὡς δὲ ταῦτά οἱ ἐπεποίητο, διέβαινον κατὰ 
+μὲν τὴν ἑτέρην τῶν γεφυρέων τὴν πρὸς τοῦ 
+Πόντου ὁ πεζός τε καὶ ἡ ἵππος ἅπασα, κατὰ 
+δὲ τὴν πρὸς τὸ Αἰγαῖον τὰ ὑποξύγια καὶ ἡ 
+θεραπηίη. ἡγέοντο δὲ πρῶτα μὲν οἱ μύριοι Πέρ- 
+σαι, ἐστεφανωμένοι πάντες, μετὰ δὲ τούτους ὁ 
+σύμμικτος στρατὸς παντοίων ἐθνέων. ταύτην 
+μὲν τὴν ἡμέρην οὗτοι, τῇ δὲ ὑστεραίῃ πρῶτοι μὲν 
+οἵ τε ἱππόται καὶ οἱ τὰς λόγχας κάτω τράποντες" 
+ἐστεφάνωντο δὲ καὶ οὗτοι. , μετὰ δὲ οἵ τε ἵπποι 
+οἱ ἱροὶ καὶ τὸ ἅρμα τὸ (pov, ἐπὶ δὲ αὐτός τε 
+Ἐεέρξης καὶ οἱ αἰχμοφόροι καὶ οἱ ὑππόται οὗ 
+χίλιοι, ἐπὶ δὲ τούτοισι 0 ἄλλος στρατός. καὶ αἱ 
+νέες ἅμα ἀνήγοντο ἐς τὴν ἀπεναντίον. ἤδη δὲ 
+ἤκουσα καὶ ὕστατον διαβῆναι βασιλέα πάντων. 
+
+56. Ἐέρξης δὲ ἐπεὶ διέβη ἐς τὴν Εὐρώπην, 
+ἐθηεῖτο τὸν στρατὸν ὑπὸ μαστίγων διαβαίνοντα" 
+διέβη δὲ ὁ στρατὸς αὐτοῦ ἐν ἑπτὰ ἡμέρῃσι καὶ ἐν 
+ἑπτὰ εὐφρόνῃσι, ἑλινύσας οὐδένα χρόνον. ἐνθαῦτα 
+λέγεται, Ἐέρξεω ἤδη. διαβεβηκότος τὸν Ἑλλή- 
+σποντον, ἄνδρα εἰπεῖν Ἑλλησπόντιον T Ὢ Ζεῦ, τί 
+δὴ ἀνδρὶ εἰδόμενος Πέρσῃ καὶ οὔνομα ἀντὶ Διὸς 
+Ἐέρξην θέμενος ἀνάστατον τὴν Ἑλλάδα θέλεις 
+ποιῆσαι, ἄγων πάντας ἀνθρώπους ; ; καὶ yap ἄνευ 
+τούτων ἐξῆν τοι ποιέειν ταῦτα. ᾽ 
+
+
+370 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 54-56 
+
+
+phial into the Hellespont, and a golden bowl withal, 
+and a Persian sword, that which they call “ acinaces."'! 
+As to these, I cannot rightly determine whether he 
+cast them into the sea for offerings to the sun, or 
+repented of his scourging of the Hellespont and 
+gave gifts to the sea as atonement. 
+
+55. This done, they crossed over, the foot and 
+horse all by the bridge nearest to the Pontus, 
+and the beasts of burden and the train of service by 
+the bridge towards the Aegean. In the van came 
+the ten thousand Persians, all wearing garlands, and 
+after them the mixed host of divers nations. All 
+that day these crossed, and on the next, first the 
+horsemen and they that bore their spears reversed ; 
+these also wore garlands. After them came the 
+sacred horses and the sacred chariot, then Xerxes 
+himself and the spearmen and the thousand horse, 
+and after them the rest of the host. Meanwhile the 
+ships put out and crossed to the opposite shore. 
+But I have heard ere now, that the king crossed last 
+of all. 
+
+56. Having passed over to Europe, Xerxes viewed 
+his army crossing under the lash; seven days and 
+seven nights it was in crossing, with never a rest. 
+There is a tale that, when Xerxes had now crossed 
+the Hellespont, a man of the Hellespont cried, “ O 
+Zeus, why hast thou taken the likeness of a Persian 
+man and changed thy name to Xerxes, leading the 
+whole world with thee to remove Hellas from its 
+place? For that thou mightest have done without 
+these means.' 
+
+
+1 Sometimes translated **scimitar" ; but that is, I believe, 
+a curved weapon, whereas the ἀκινάκης appears to "have been 
+& short, straight dagger. 
+
+
+371 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+57. Ὡς δὲ διέβησαν πάντες, ἐς ὁδὸν ὁ ὁρμημένοισι 
+τέρας σφι ἐφάνη μέγα, τὸ Ξέρξης € ἐν οὐδενὶ λόγῳ 
+ἐποιήσατο καίπερ εὐσύμβλητον ἐόν" ἵππος γὰρ 
+ἔτεκε λαγόν. .εὐσύμβλητον ὦ ών τῇδε τοῦτο ἐγένετο, 
+ὅτι ἔμελλε μὲν ἐλᾶν στρατιὴν ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα 
+Ξέρξης ἀγαυρότατα. καὶ μεγαλοπρεπέστατα, 
+ὀπίσω δὲ περὶ ἑωυτοῦ τρέχων ἥξειν ἐς τὸν αὐτὸν 
+
+ὥρον. ἐγένετο δὲ καὶ  ἕτερον αὐτῷ τέρας « ἐόντι ἐν 
+A ἡμίονος γὰρ ἔτεκε ἡμίονον διξὰ ἔ ἔχουσαν 
+αἰδοῖα, τὰ μὲν ἔρσενος τὰ δὲ θηλέης' κατύπερθε 
+δὲ ἦν τὰ τοῦ ἔρσενος. τῶν ἀμφοτέρων λόγον 
+οὐδένα ποιησάμενος τὸ πρόσω ἐπορεύετο, σὺν δέ 
+οἱ ὁ πεζὸς στρατός. 
+
+58. Ὁ δὲ ναυτικὸς ἔξω τὸν Ελλήσποντον πλέων 
+παρὰ γῆν ἐκομίξετο, τὰ ἔμπαλιν πρήσσων τοῦ 
+
+πεζοῦ. ὃ μὲν γὰρ πρὸς ἑσπέρην ἔπλεε, ἐπὶ 
+Σαρπηδονίης ἄ ἄκρης ποιεύμενος τὴν ἄπιξιν, € ἐς τὴν 
+αὐτῷ προείρητο ἀπικομένῳ περιμένειν" ὁ δὲ κατ᾽ 
+ἤπειρον στρατὸς πρὸς ἠῶ τε καὶ ἡλίου ἀνατολὰς 
+ἐποιέετο τὴν ὁδὸν διὰ τῆς Χερσονήσου, ἐν δεξιῇ 
+μὲν ἔχων τὸν "Ελλης τάφον τῆς Ἀθάμαντος, ἐν 
+ἀριστερῇ, δὲ Καρδίην πόλιν, διὰ μέσης δὲ πορευό- 
+μενος πόλιος τῇ οὔνομα τυγχάνει ἐὸν ᾿Αγορή. 
+ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ κάμπτων τὸν κόλπον. τὸν Μέλανα 
+καλεόμενον καὶ Μέλανα ποταμόν, οὐκ ἀντισχόντα 
+τότε τῇ στρατιῇ. τὸ ῥέεθρον ἀλλ᾽ ἐπιλιπόντα, τοῦ- 
+τον τὸν ποταμὸν διαβάς, ἐπ᾽ οὗ καὶ ὁ κόλπος 
+οὗτος τὴν ἐπωνυμίην ἔχει, LE πρὸς ἑσπέρην, 
+Aivóv τε πόλιν Αἰολίδα καὶ Στεντορίδα λύμνην 
+παρεξιών, ἐ ἐς ὃ ἀπίκετο ἐς Δορίσκον. 
+
+59. Ὁ δὲ Δορίσκος ἐ ἐστὶ τῆς Θρηίκης αἰγιαλιός 
+τε καὶ πεδίον μέγα, διὰ δὲ αὐτοῦ ῥέει ποταμὸς 
+
+
+372 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 57-59 
+
+
+57. When all had passed over and they were ready 
+for the road, a great portent appeared among them, 
+whereof Xerxes took no account, though it was easy 
+of interpretation : a mare gave birth to a hare. The 
+meaning of it was easy to guess, being this: Xerxes 
+was to march his army to Hellas with great pomp 
+and pride, but to come back to the same place 
+fleeing for his life. "There was another portent, that 
+was shown to him at Sardis: a mule gave birth to a 
+mule, that had double privy parts, both male and 
+female, the male above the other. But of neither 
+sign did he take any account, and journeyed on, his 
+land army with him. 
+
+58. His navy sailed out of the Hellespont and 
+coasted along by the land, contrariwise to the land 
+army ; for the ships voyaged westwards, laying their 
+course for the headland of Sarpedon, whither Xerxes 
+had bidden them come and there await him ; but the 
+army of the mainland travelled towards the east! and 
+the sunrise through the Chersonese, with the tomb 
+of Athamas' daughter Helle on its right and the 
+town of Cardia on its left, and marching through the 
+midst of a town called Agora. Thence turning the 
+head of the Black Bay (as it is called) and crossing 
+the Black River, which could not hold its own then 
+against the army, but fell short of its needs—cross- 
+ing this river, which gives its name to the bay, they 
+went westwar ds, past the Aeolian town of Aenus and 
+the marsh of Stentor, till they came to Doriscus. 
+
+59. The territory of Doriscus is in Thrace, a wide 
+plain by the sea, and through it flows a great river, 
+
+
+1 North-east, strictly speaking: they marched through the 
+promontory of Gallipoli, 
+
+
+373 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μέγας "Εβρος" ἐν τῷ τεῖχός τε ἐδέδμητο βασιλήιον 
+τοῦτο τὸ δὴ Δορίσκος κέκληται, καὶ Περσέων 
+φρουρὴ ἐν αὐτῷ κατεστήκεε ὑπὸ Δαρείου ἐξ 
+ἐκείνου τοῦ χρόνου. ἐπείτε ἐπὶ Σκύθας ἐστρα- 
+τεύετο. ἔδοξε ὧν τῷ Ξέρξῃ ὁ ὁ χῶρος εἶναι ἐπιτή- 
+δεος ἐνδιατάξαι τε καὶ ἐξαριθμῆσαι τὸν στρατόν, 
+καὶ ἐποίεε ταῦτα. τὰς μὲν δὴ νέας τὰς πάσας 
+ἀπικομένας ἐς Δορίσκον οἱ ναύαρχοι κελεύσαντος 
+Ἐέρξεω ἐς τὸν αἰγιαλὸν τὸν προσεχέα Δορίσκῳ 
+ἐκόμισαν, ἐν τῷ Σάλη τε Σαμοθρηικίη πεπόλισται 
+πόλις καὶ Ζώνη, τελευτᾷ δὲ αὐτοῦ Σέρρειον ἄκρη 
+ὀνομαστή. ὁ δὲ χῶρος οὗτος τὸ παλαιὸν ἦν 
+Κικόνων, ἐς τοῦτον τὸν αἰγιαλὸν κατασχόντες 
+τὰς νέας ἀνέψυχον ἀνελκύσαντες. ὃ δὲ ἐν τῷ 
+Δορίσκῳ τοῦτον τὸν χρόνον τῆς στρατιῆς ἀριθμὸν 
+ἐποιέετο. 
+
+60. "Όσον μέν νυν ἕκαστοι παρεῖχον πλῆθος 
+ἐς ἀριθμόν, οὐκ ἔχω εἰπεῖν τὸ ἀτρεκές' ov γὰρ λέ- 
+γεται πρὸς οὐδαμῶν ἀνθρώπων" σύμπαντος δὲ τοῦ 
+στρατοῦ τοῦ πεζοῦ τὸ πλῆθος ἐφάνη ἑβδομήκοντα 
+καὶ ἑκατὸν μυριάδες. ἐξηρίθμησαν δὲ τόνδε τὸν 
+τρόπον" συνήγαγόν τε ἐς ἕνα χῶρον μυριάδα 
+ἀνθρώπων, καὶ c vvvá£avres. ταύτην ὡς μάλιστα 
+εἶχον περιέγραψαν ἔξωθεν κύκλον" περιγράψαντες 
+δὲ καὶ ἀπέντες τοὺς μυρίους. αἱμασιὴν περιέβαλον 
+κατὰ τὸν κύκλον, ὕψος ἀνήκουσαν ἀνδρὶ ἐς τὸν 
+ὀμφαλόν" ταύτην δὲ ποιήσαντες ἄλλους ᾿ἐσεβύβαξον 
+ἐς τὸ περιοικοδομημένον, μέχρι οὗ πάντας τούτῳ 
+τῷ τρόπῳ ἐξηρίθμησαν. ἀριθμήσαντες δὲ κατὰ 
+ἔθνεα διέτασσον. 
+
+61. Οἱ δὲ στρατευόμενοι οἶδε ἦσαν, Πέρσαι μὲν 
+ὧδε ἐσκευασμένοι" περὶ μὲν τῇσι κεφαλῆσι εἶχον 
+374 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 59-6: 
+
+
+the Hebrus; here had been built that royal fortress 
+which is called Doriscus, and a Persian guard had 
+been posted there by Darius ever since the time of 
+his march against Scythia. It seemed therefore to 
+Xerxes to be a fit place for him to array and number 
+his host, and he did so. All the fleet, being now 
+arrived at Doriscus, was brought by its captains at 
+Xerxes' command to the beach near Doriscus, where 
+stands the Samothracian town of Sane, and Zone ; 
+at the end thereof is Serreum, a headland of some 
+name. This country was in former days possessed 
+by the Cicones. To this beach they brought their 
+ships in, and hauled them up for rest. In the 
+meanwhile Xerxes numbered his army at Doriscus. 
+
+60. What the number of each part of it was I 
+cannot with exactness say ; for there is no one who 
+tells us that; but the tale of the whole land army 
+was shown to be a million and seven hundred 
+thousand. The numbering was on this wise :—Ten 
+thousand men were collected in one place, and 
+when they were packed together as closely as might 
+be a line was drawn round them; this being drawn, 
+the ten thousand were sent away, and a wall of 
+stones built on the line reaching up to a man's 
+middle; which done, others were brought into the 
+walled space, till in this way all were numbered. 
+When they had been numbered, they were 
+marshalled according to their several nations. 
+
+61, Those that served in the army were as I will 
+now show. Firstly, the Persians; for their equip- 
+
+
+379 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τιάρας καλεομένους πίλους ἀπαγέας, περὶ δὲ τὸ 
+σῶμα κιθῶνας χειριδωτοὺς ποικίλους, .. .. 
+λεπίδος σιδηρέης ὄψιν ἰχθυοειδέος, περὶ δὲ τὰ 
+σκέλεα ἀναξυρίδας, ἆ ἀντὶ δὲ ἀσπίδων γέρρα' ὑπὸ δὲ 
+φαρετρεῶνες ἐκρέμαντο' αὖ xmas δὲ βραχέας εἶχον, 
+τόξα δὲ μεγάλα, ὀιστοὺς é καλαμίνους, πρὸς δὲ 
+ἐγχειρίδια παρὰ τὸν δεξιὸν μηρὸν παραιωρεύμενα 
+ἐκ τῆς ζώνης. καὶ ἄρχοντα παρε τοῦτο ᾿Οτάνεα 
+τὸν ᾽Αμήστριος πατέρα τῆς Ξέρξεω γυναικός, 
+ἐκαλέοντο δὲ πάλαι ὑπὸ μὲν Ἑλλήνων Κηφῆνες, 
+ὑπὸ μέντοι σφέων αὐτῶν καὶ τῶν περιοίκων 
+᾿Αρταῖοι. ἐπεὶ δὲ Περσεὺς ὁ Δανάης τε καὶ Διὸς 
+ἀπίκετο παρὰ Κηφέα τὸν Βήλου καὶ ἔσχε αὐτοῦ 
+τὴν θυγατέρα ᾿Ανδρομέδην, γίνεται αὐτῷ παῖς τῷ 
+οὔνομα ἔθετο Πέρσην, τοῦτον δὲ αὐτοῦ καταλείπει: 
+ἐτύγχανε γὰρ ἅπαις ἐὼν ὁ Κηφεὺς € ἔρσενος γόνου. 
+ἐπὶ τούτου δὴ τὴν ἐπωνυμίην ἔσχον. 
+
+02. Μήδοι δὲ τὴν αὐτὴν ταύτην ἐσταλμένοι 
+ἐστρατεύοντο' Μηδικὴ γὰρ αὕτη 7) σκευή ἐστι καὶ 
+οὐ Περσική. οἱ δὲ Μήδοι ἄρχοντα μὲν παρεί- 
+χοντο Τιγράνην ἄνδρα ᾿Αχαιμενίδην, ἐκαλέοντο δὲ 
+πάλαι πρὸς πάντων Αριοι, à ἀπικομένης δὲ Μηδείης 
+τῆς Κολχίδος ἐξ ᾿Αθηνέων ἐ ἐς τοὺς ᾿Αρίους τούτους 
+μετέβαλον καὶ οὗτοι τὸ οὔνομα. αὐτοὶ περὶ σφέων 
+ὧδε λέγουσι Μῆδοι. Κίσσιοι δὲ στρατευόμενοι 
+τὰ μὲν ἄλλα κατά περ Πέρσαι ἐσκευάδατο, ἀντὶ 
+δὲ τῶν πίλων μιτρηφόροι ἦσαν. Κισσίων δὲ 
+
+
+1 Stein and others place a lacuna after ποικίλους, supposing 
+some words meaning ** cuirasses,"' e.g. ὑπὸ δὲ θώρηκας meron- 
+μένους, ‘‘and under them cuirasses made" to look like (ὄψιν) to 
+be omitted ; κιθὼν itself in Homer bears the meaning of cuirass, 
+but apparently not in Herodotus, 
+
+
+370 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 61-62 
+
+
+ment they wore on their heads loose caps called 
+tiaras, and on their bodies sleeved tunics of divers 
+colours, with scales of iron like in appearance to the 
+scales of fish, and breeches on their legs; for shields 
+they had wicker bucklers, their quivers hanging 
+beneath these; they carried short spears, long bows, 
+and arrows of reed, and daggers withal that hung 
+from the girdle by the right thigh. Their commander 
+was Otanes, father of Xerxes’ wife and son of 
+Amestris. These Persians were in old time called 
+by the Greeks Cephenes, but by themselves and 
+their neighbours Artaei. But when Perseus the son 
+of Danaé and Zeus had come to Cepheus the son of 
+Belus, and taken his daughter Andromeda to wife, a 
+son was born to him whom he called Perses, and him 
+he left there; for Cepheus had no male issue ; it was 
+from this Perses that the Persians took their name.! 
+62. The Medes in the army were equipped like 
+the Persians; indeed that fashion of armour is 
+Median, not Persian; their commander was Tigranes, 
+an Achaemenid. These were in old time called by 
+all men Arians,? but when the Colchian woman Medea 
+came from Athens among the Arians they changed 
+their name, like the Persians. This is the Medes’ 
+own account of themselves. The Cissians in the 
+army were equipped like the Persians, but they wore 
+
+
+1 Herodotus is always prone to base ethnological con- 
+_ clusions on Greek legends and the similarity of names; so 
+in the next chapter Medea supplies the name of the Medes. — 
+But it is strange that Perseus, being commonly held great- 
+grandfather of Heracles, is here made to marry the grand- 
+xu re of Belus, who in I. 7, is Heracles' grandson. 
+
+2 Modern philology gives the name “' Aryan” of course a 
+very much wider extension; which indeed was beginning 
+even in the time of Strabo. 
+
+
+377 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἦρχε ᾿Ανάφης͵ ὁ ᾿Οτάνεω. Ὑρκάνιοι δὲ κατά περ 
+Πέρσαι ἐσεσάχατο, ἡγεμόνα παρεχόμενοι Μεγά- 
+πανον τὸν Βαβυλῶνος ὕστερον τούτων ἐπιτροπεύ- 
+σαντα. 
+
+68. ᾿Ασσύριοι δὲ στρατευόμενοι περὶ μὲν τῇσι 
+κεφαλῇσι εἶχον χάλκεά τε «κράνεα καὶ πεπλεγμένα 
+τρόπον τινὰ βάρβαρον οὐκ εὐαπήγητον, ἀσπίδας 
+δὲ καὶ αἰχμὰς καὶ ἐγχειρί ια παραπλήσια τῇσι 
+Αἰγυπτίῃσι εἶχον, πρὸς δὲ ῥόπαλα ξύλων τετυ- 
+λωμένα σιδήρῳ, καὶ λινέους θώρηκας. οὗτοι δὲ 
+ὑπὸ μὲν Ἑλλήνων καλέονται Σύριοι, ὑπὸ δὲ τῶν 
+βαρβάρων ᾿Ασσύριοι ἐκλήθησαν. τούτων δὲ 
+μεταξὺ Χαλδαῖοι. Ἦρχε δὲ σφέων Ὀτάσπης 
+ó ᾿Αρταχαίεω. 
+
+64. Βάκτριοι δὲ περὶ μὲν τῇσι κεφαλῇσι ἀγχό- 
+τατα τῶν Μηδικῶν ἔ έχοντες ἐστρατεύοντο, τόξα δὲ 
+
+καλάμινα ἐπιχώρια καὶ αἰχμὰς βραχέας. Σάκαι 
+δὲ οἱ Σκύθαι περὶ μὲν τῇσι κεφαλῆσι κυρβασίας 
+ἐς ὀξὺ ἀπηγμένας ὀρθὰς εἶχον πεπηγυίας, 
+ἀναξυρίδας δὲ ἐνεδεδύκεσαν, τόξα δὲ «ἐπιχώρια 
+καὶ ἐγχειρίδια, πρὸς δὲ καὶ ἀξίνας σαγάρις εἶχον. 
+τούτους δὲ ἐόντας Σκύθας ᾽Αμυργίους Σάκας 
+ἐκάλεον' οἱ γὰρ Πέρσαι πάντας τοὺς Σκύθας 
+καλέουσι Σάκας. Βακτρίων δὲ καὶ Σακέων ἡ ἦρχε 
+Ὕστάσπης ὁ Δαρείου τε καὶ Ατόσσης τῆς Κύρου. 
+
+65. Ἰ νδοὶ δὲ εἵματα μὲν ἐνδεδυκότες ἆ ἀπὸ ξύλων 
+πεποιημένα, τόξα δὲ καλάμινα εἶχον καὶ ὀιστοὺς ; 
+καλαμίνους ἐπὶ δὲ σίδηρος ἦν. ἐσταλμένοι μὲν 
+δὴ ἡ ἦσαν οὕτω ᾿Ινδοί, προσετετάχατο δὲ συστρα- 
+τευόµενοι Φαρναζάθρη τῷ ᾿Αρταβθέτεω. 
+
+
+1 Stein brackets this sentence, with probability. μεταξὺ in 
+
+
+379 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 62-65 
+
+
+turbans and not caps. Their commander was Anaphes 
+son of Otanes. The Hyrcanians! were armed like the 
+Persians; their leader was Megapanus; who was 
+afterwards the governor of Babylon. 
+
+63. The Assyrians of the army wore on their heads 
+helmets of twisted bronze made in an outlandish 
+fashion not easy to describe. They bore shields and 
+spears and daggers of Egyptian fashion, and wooden 
+clubs withal studded with iron, and they wore linen 
+breastplates. These are called by Greeks Syrians, 
+but the foreigners called them Assyrians. With 
+them were the Chaldeans. Their commander was 
+Otaspes son of Artachaees. 
+
+64. The Bactrians in the army wore a headgear most 
+like to the Median, carrying their native bows of 
+reed, and short spears. The Sacae, who are Scythians, 
+had on their heads tall caps, erect and stiff and 
+tapering to a point; they wore breeches, and carried 
+their native bows, and daggers, and axes withal, 
+which they call “sagaris.” These were Amyrgian 
+Scythians, but were called Sacae; for that is the 
+Persian name for all Scythians. The commander of 
+the Bactrians and Sacae was Hystaspes, son of Darius 
+and Cyrus' daughter Atossa. 
+
+65. The Indians wore garments of tree-wool,? and 
+carried bows of reed and iron-tipped arrows of the 
+same. Such was their equipment; they were ap- 
+pointed to march under the command of Pharnazathres 
+son of Artabates. 
+
+
+1 Not mentioned in the list of Darius’ subjects in Book III ; 
+they lived on the S. E. eoast of the Caspian. 
+3 Cotton. 
+
+
+the sense of ‘‘among” is not otherwise known, and the 
+statement is inconsistent with the use of Χαλδαῖοι in I. 181. 
+
+
+379 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+66. "Αριοι δὲ τόξοισι μὲν ἐσκευασμένοι ἦσαν 
+Μηδικοῖσι, τὰ δὲ ἄλλα κατά περ Βάκτριοι. 
+᾿Αρίων δὲ ἦρχε Σισάµνης ὁ Ὑδάρνεος. Πάρθοι 
+δὲ καὶ Χοράσμιοι καὶ Σόγδοι τε καὶ Γανδάριοι 
+καὶ Δαδίκαι τὴν αὐτὴν σκευὴν ἔχοντες τὴν καὶ 
+Βάκτριοι ἐστρατεύοντο. τούτων Ἂς 3 ἦρχον οἶδε. 
+Πάρθων μὲν καὶ Χορασμίων ᾿Αρτάβαξος ὁ 0 Φαρνά- 
+κεος, Σόγδων δὲ ᾽Αξάνης ὁ ᾿Αρταίου, Γανδαρίων 
+δὲ καὶ Δαδικέων ᾿Αρτύφιος ὁ Aprafávov. 
+
+67. Κάσπιοι δὲ σισύρνας τα ἐνδεδυκότες καὶ 
+τόξα ἐπιχώρια καλάμινα ἔχοντες καὶ ἀκινάκας 
+ἐστρατεύοντο. οὗτοι μὲν οὕτω «ἐσκευάδατο, 
+ἡγεμόνα παρεχόμενοι ᾿Αριόμαρδον τὸν ᾿Αρτυφίου 
+ἀδελφεόν, Σαράγγαι δὲ εἵματα μὲν βεβαμμένα 
+ἐνέπρεπον ἔ ovres, πέδιλα δὲ ἐς γόνυ ἀνατείνοντα 
+εἶχον, τόξα δὲ καὶ αἰχμὰς Μηδικάς. Σαραγγέων 
+δὲ ἦρχε Φερενδάτης 0 MeyaBábov. Πάκτυες δὲ 
+σισυρνοφόροι τε ἦσαν καὶ τόξα ἐπιχώρια εἶχον 
+καὶ ἐγχειρίδια. Πάκτυες δὲ ἄρχοντα παρείχοντο 
+᾿Αρταὔντην τὸν `I Oa uir peo. 
+
+68. Οὔτιοι δὲ καὶ Μύκοι τε καὶ Παρικάνιοι 
+ἐσκευασμένοι ἦσαν κατά περ Πάκτυες. τούτων 
+δὲ ἢ ἦρχον οἶδε, Οὐτίων μὲν καὶ Μύκων ᾿Αρσαμένης 
+ὁ Δαρείου, Παρικανίων δὲ Σιρομίτρης ὁ ο Οἰοβάξου. 
+
+69. ᾿Αράβιοι δὲ ξειρὰς ὑπεζωσμένοι À ἦσαν, τόξα 
+δέ παλίντονα εἶχον πρὸς δεξιά, μακρά. Αἰθίοπες 
+δὲ παρδαλέας τε καὶ λεοντέας ἐναμμένοι, τόξα δὲ 
+εἶχον ἐκ φοίνικος σπάθης πεποιημένα, μακρά, 
+τετραπηχέων οὐκ ἐλάσσω, ἐπὶ δὲ καλαμίνους 
+ὀιστοὺς μικρούς" ἀντὶ δὲ σιδήρου € ἐπῆν λίθος ὀξὺς 
+πεποιημένος, τῷ καὶ τὰς σφρηγῖδας γλύφουσι' 
+πρὸς δὲ αἰχμὰς εἶχον, ἐπὶ δὲ κέρας δορκάδος ἐπῆν 
+380 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 66-69 
+
+
+66. The Arians were equipped with Median bows, 
+but in all else like the Bactrians; their commander 
+was Sisamnes son of Hydarnes. The Parthians, 
+Chorasmians, Sogdians, Gandarians, and Dadicae in 
+the army had the same equipment as the Bactrians. 
+The Parthians and Chorasmians had for their com- 
+mander Artabazus son of Pharnaces, the Sogdians 
+Azanes son of Artaeus, the Gandarians and Dadicae 
+Artyphius son of Artabanus. 
+
+67. The Caspians in the army wore cloaks, and 
+carried the reed bows of their country and short 
+swords. Such was their equipment; their leader 
+was Ariomardus, brother to Artyphius ; the Sarangae 
+made a brave show with dyed garments and boots 
+knee-high, carrying bows and Median spears. Their 
+commander was Pherendates son of Megabazus. 
+The Pactyes wore cloaks and carried the bows of 
+their country and daggers; their commander was 
+Artajntes son of Ithamitres. 
+
+68. The Utians and Mycians and Paricanians were 
+equipped like the Pactyes; the Utians and Mycians 
+had for their commander Arsamenes son of Darius, 
+the Paricanians Siromitres son of Oeobazus. 
+
+69. The Arabians wore mantles girded up, and 
+carried at their right side long bows curving back- 
+wards.! The Ethiopians were wrapt in skins of 
+leopards and lions, and carried bows made of palm- 
+wood strips, full four cubits long, and short arrows 
+therewith, pointed not with iron but with a sharpened 
+stone, that stone wherewith seals are carved ; more- 
+over they had spears pointed with a gazelle's horn 
+
+
+! That is, the ends of the bow when unstrung curved 
+upwards, against the natural curve of the whole; which 
+would of course increase its power. 
+
+
+381 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὀξὺ πεποιημένον τρόπον λόγχης' εἶχον δὲ καὶ 
+ῥόπαλα τυλωτά. τοῦ δὲ σώματος τὸ μὲν ἥμισυ 
+ἐξηλείφοντο γύψῳ ἰόντες ἐς μάχην, τὸ δὲ ἄλλο 
+ἥμισυ μίλτῳ. ᾿Αραβίων δὲ καὶ Αἰθιόπων τῶν 
+ὑπὲρ Αἰγύπτου οἰκημένων ἦρχε ᾿Αρσάμης ὁ 
+Δαρείου καὶ ᾿Αρτυστώνης τῆς Κύρου θυγατρός, 
+τὴν μάλιστα στέρξας τῶν γυναικῶν Δαρεῖος εἰκὼ 
+χρυσέην σφυρήλατον ἐποιήσατο. 
+
+. Τῶν μὲν δὴ ὑπὲρ Αἰγύπτου Αἰθιόπων καὶ 
+᾿Αραβίων ἦρχε ᾿Αρσάμης, οἱ δὲ ἀπὸ ἡλίου ava- 
+τολέων Αἰθίοπες (διξοὶ γὰρ δὴ ἐστρατεύοντο) 
+προσετετάχατο τοῖσι Ἰνδοῖσι, διαλλάσσοντες 
+εἶδος μὲν οὐδὲν τοῖσι ἑτέροισι, φωνὴν δὲ καὶ 
+τρίχωμα μοῦνον" οἱ μὲν γὰρ ἀπὸ ἡλίου Αἰθίοπες 
+ἰθύτριχες εἰσί, οἱ δ᾽ ἐκ τῆς Λιθύης οὐλότατον 
+τρίχωμα ἔχουσι πάντων ἀνθρώπων. οὗτοι δὲ οἱ 
+ἐκ τῆς ᾿Ασίης Αἰθίοπες τὰ μὲν πλέω κατά περ 
+Iv8oi ἐσεσάχατο, προμετωπίδια δὲ d ἵππων εἶχον 
+ἐπὶ τῇσι κεφαλῇσι σύν τε τοῖσι ὠσὶ ἐκδεδαρμένα 
+καὶ τῇ λοφιῇ' καὶ ἀντὶ μὲν λόφου 7) λοφιὴ 
+κατέχρα, τὰ δὲ ὦτα τῶν ἵππων ὀρθὰ πεπηγότα 
+εἶχον". προβλήματα δὲ ἀντ᾽ ἀσπίδων ἐποιεῦντο 
+γεράνων δοράς. 
+
+71. Λίβυες δὲ σκευὴν μὲν σκυτίνην ἥισαν 
+τ ἀκοντίοισι δὲ ἐπικαύτοισι χρεώμενοι, 
+
+οντα δὲ παρείχοντο Μασσάγην τὸν Ὀαρίξου. 
+
+2, Παφλαγόνες δὲ ἐστρατεύοντο ἐπὶ μὲν τῆσι 
+κεφαλῇσι κράνεα πεπλεγμένα ἔχοντες, ἀσπίδας δὲ 
+μικρὰς αἰχμάς τε οὐ μεγάλας, πρὸς δὲ ἆ ἀκόντια. καὶ 
+ἐγχειρίδια, περὶ δὲ τοὺς πόδας πέδιλα ἐπιχώρια 
+ἐς μέσην κνήμην ἀνατείνοντα. Λίγυες δὲ καὶ 
+Ματιηνοὶ καὶ Μαριανδυνοί τε καὶ Σύριοι τὴν 
+382 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 69-72 
+
+
+sharpened to the likeness of a lance, and studded 
+clubs withal. When they went into battle they 
+painted half their bodies with gypsum and the other 
+half with vermilion. The Arabians, and the Ethio- 
+pians who dwell above Egypt, had for commander 
+Arsames son of Darius and Artystone daughter of 
+Cyrus, whom Darius loved best of his wives, and had 
+an image made of her of hammered gold. 
+
+70. The Ethiopians above Egypt and the Arabians 
+had Arsames for commander, and the Ethiopians of 
+the east! (for there were two kinds of them in the 
+army) served with the Indians ; they differed nothing 
+in appearance from the others, but only in speech 
+and hair; for the Ethiopians from the east are 
+straight-haired, but they of Libya have of all men 
+the woolliest hair. These Ethiopians of Ασία were 
+for the most part armed like the Indians; but they 
+wore on their heads the skins of horses' foreheads, 
+stripped from the head with ears and mane; the 
+mane served them for a crest, and they wore the 
+horses' ears stiff and upright; for shields they had 
+bucklers of cranes' skin. 
+
+71. The Libyans came in leathern garments, using 
+javelins of charred wood. Their commander was 
+Massages son of Oarizus. 
+
+72. The Paphlagonians in the army had plaited 
+helmets on their heads, and small shields and short 
+spears, and javelins and daggers withal; they wore 
+the shoes of their country, reaching midway to the 
+knee. The Ligyes aud Matieni and Mariandyni and 
+
+
+1 For these see III. 94. The “eastern Ethiopians” were 
+apparently in or near Beluchistan. 
+
+
+383 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+αὐτὴν ἔχοντες Παφλαγόσι ἐστρατεύοντο. οἱ δὲ 
+Σύριοι οὗτοι ὑπὸ Περσέων Καππαδόκαι καλέονται. 
+Παφλαγόνων «μέν νυν καὶ Ματιηνῶν Δῶτος ὁ 
+Μεγασίδρου ἦρχε, Μαριανδυνῶν δὲ καὶ Λιγύων 
+καὶ Συρίων Γοβρύης ὁ Δαρείου τε καὶ ᾿Αρτυ- 
+στώνης. 
+
+T3. Φρύγες δὲ ἀγχοτάτω τῆς Παφλαγονικῆς 
+σκευὴν εἶχον, ὀλίγον παραλλάσσοντες. οἱ δὲ 
+Φρύγες, ὡς Μακεδόνες λέγουσι, ἐκαλέοντο Βρίγες 
+χρόνον ὅσον [ὐρωπήιοι ἐόντες σύνοικοι ἦσαν 
+Μακεδόσι, μεταβάντες δὲ ἐς τὴν ᾿Ασίην ἅμα τῇ 
+
+apy καὶ τὸ οὔνομα μετέβαλον ἐς Φρύγας. 
+Ἀρμένιοι δὲ κατά περ Φρύγες ἐσεσάχατο, ἐόντες 
+Φρυγῶν ἄποικοι. τούτων συναμφοτέρων ἦρχε 
+᾿Ἀρτόχμης Δαρείου ἔ ἔχων θυγατέρα. 
+
+74. Λυδοὶ δὲ ἀγχοτάτω τῶν Ἑλληνικῶν εἶχον 
+ὅπλα. οἱ δὲ Λυδοὶ Μηίονες ἐκαλεῦντο τὸ πάλαι, 
+ἐπὶ δὲ Λυδοῦ τοῦ "Ατυος ἔσχον τὴν. ἐπωνυμίην, 
+μεταβαλόντες τὸ οὔνομα. Μυσοὶ δὲ ἐπὶ μὲν τῆσι 
+κεφαλῇσι εἶχον κράνεα ἐπιχώρια, ἀσπίδας δὲ 
+μικρᾶς, ἀκοντίοισι δὲ ἐχρέωντο ἐπικαύτοισι. 
+οὗτοι δὲ εἰσὶ Λυδῶν ἄποικοι, ἀπ᾽ Ολύμπου δὲ 
+ὄρεος καλέονται Ὀλυμπιηνοί. Λυδῶν δὲ καὶ 
+Μυσῶν ἦρχε ᾿Αρταφρένης ι ὁ ᾿Αρταφρένεος ὃς ἐς 
+Μαραθῶνα ἐσέθαλε ἅμα Δάτι. 
+
+15. Θρήικες δὲ ἐπὶ μὲν τῇσι κεφαλῇσι ἆλω- 
+πεκέας ἔχοντες ἐστρατεύοντο, περὶ δὲ τὸ σῶμα 
+κιθῶνας, ἐπὶ δὲ ξειρὰς περιβεβλημένοι ποικίλας, 
+π ερὶ δὲ τοὺς πόδας τε καὶ τὰς κνήμας πέδιλα 
+νεβρῶν, πρὸς δὲ ἀκόντιά τε καὶ πέλτας καὶ 
+ἐγχειρίδια μικρά. οὗτοι δὲ διαβάντες μὲν ἐς τὴν 
+᾿Ασίην ἐκλήθησαν Βιθυνοί, τὸ δὲ πρότερον èra- 
+
+
+384 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 72-75 
+
+
+Syrians were equipped like the Paphlagonians. 
+These Syrians are called by the Persians Cappadocians. 
+Dotus son of Megasidrus was commander of the 
+Paphlagonians and Matieni, Gobryas son of Darius and 
+Artystone of the Mariandyni and Ligyes and Syrians. 
+13. The Phrygian equipment was most like to the : 
+Paphlagonian, with but small difference. By what 
+the Macedonians say, these Phrygians were called 
+Briges as long as they dwelt in Europe, where they 
+were neighbours of the Macedonians; but when 
+they changed their home to Asia they changed 
+their name also and were called Phrygians.1 The 
+Armenians, who are settlers from Phrygia, were 
+armed like the Phrygians. Both these together had 
+for their commander Artochmes, Darius’ son-in-law. 
+74. The Lydian armour was most like to the 
+Greek. The Lydians were formerly called Meiones, 
+till they changed their name and were called after 
+Lydus, son of Atys. The Mysians wore on their 
+heads helmets of native form, carrying small shields 
+and javelins of charred wood. These are settlers 
+from Lydia, who are called Olympieni after the 
+mountain Olympus. The commander of the Lydians 
+and Mysians was that Artaphrenes, son of Artaph- 
+renes, who made the onfall on Marathon with Datis. 
+75. The Thracians in the army wore fox-skin caps 
+on their heads, and tunics on their bodies; mantles 
+of divers colours were their covering ; they had shoes 
+of fawnskin on their feet and legs, carrying withal 
+javelins and little shields and daggers. These took 
+the name of Bithynians after they crossed over to 
+Asia; before that they were called (as they them- 
+1 This tends to support a reversal of Herodotus’ account of 
+racial migration in ch. 20 ; see the note there. 
+
+
+395 
+VOL. III. Cc C 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+λέοντο, ὡς αὐτοὶ λέγουσι, Στρυμόνιοι, οἰκέοντες 
+ἐπὶ Στρυμόνι" ἐξαναστῆναι δὲ φασὶ ἐξ ἠθέων ὑπὸ 
+Τευκρῶν τε καὶ Μυσῶν. Θρηίκων δὲ τῶν ἐν τῇ 
+᾿Ασίῃ ἦρχε Βασσάκης ὁ ᾿Αρταβάνου. 
+
+e... ἀσπίδας! δὲ ὠμοβοΐνας. εἶχον 
+σμικρᾶς, καὶ προβόλους δύο λυκιοεργέας ἕκαστος 
+εἶχε, ἐπὶ δὲ τῇσι κεφαλῇσι κράνεα χάλκεα" πρὸς 
+δὲ τοῖσι κρανεσι ὦτά τε καὶ κέρεα προσῆν Boos 
+χάλκεα, ἐπῆσαν δὲ καὶ λόφοι: τὰς δὲ κνήμας 
+ῥάκεσι φοινικέοισι κατειλίχατο. | ἐν τούτοισι 
+τοῖσι ἀνδράσι "Apeos ἐστὶ χρηστήριον. 
+
+1T. Καβηλέες δὲ οἱ Mníoves, Λασόνιοι δὲ καλεύ- 
+μενοι, τὴν αὐτὴν Κίλιξι εἶχον σκευήν, τὴν ἐγώ, 
+ἐπεὰν κατὰ τὴν Κιλίκων τάξιν διεξιὼν γένωμαι, 
+τότε σημανέω. Μιλύαι δὲ αἰχμάς τε βραχέας 
+εἶχον καὶ εἵματα ἐνεπεπορπέατο' εἶχον δὲ αὐτῶν 
+τόξα μετεξέτεροι Λύκια, περὶ δὲ τῇσι κεφαλῇσι 
+ἐκ διφθερέων πεποιημένας κυνέας. τούτων πάντων 
+ἦρχε Βάδρης ὁ ὁ Ὑστάνεος. 
+
+fs. Μόσχοι δὲ περὶ μὲν τῇσι κεφαλῇσι κυνέας 
+ξυλίνας εἶχον, ἀσπίδας δὲ καὶ αἰχμὰς σμικράς᾽ 
+λόγχαι δὲ ἐπῆσαν μεγάλαι. Τιβαρηνοὶ δὲ καὶ 
+Μάκρωνες καὶ Μοσσύνοικοι κατά περ Μόσχοι 
+ἐσκευασμένοι ἐστρατεύοντο. τούτους δὲ συνέτασ- 
+σον ἄρχοντες οἶδε, Μόσχους μὲν καὶ Τιβαρηνοὺς 
+᾿Αριόμαρδος ὁ ὁ Δαρείου τε παῖς καὶ Πάρμνος τῆς 
+Σμέρδιος τοῦ Κύρου, Μάκρωνας δὲ καὶ Μοσσυνοί- 
+κους ᾿Αρταὔκτης ὁ Χεράσμιος, ὃς Σηστὸν τὴν ἐν 
+Ἑλλησπόντῳ ἐπετρόπέυε. 
+
+1 Some tribal name is probably omitted before this word ; 
+
+
+Stein suggests Πισίδαι (cp. 111. 90), which might have slipped 
+out because of its similarity to ἀσπίδας. 
+
+
+386 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 75-78 
+
+
+selves say) Strymonians, as dwelling by the Strymon ; 
+they say that they were driven from their homes by 
+Teucrians and Mysians. The commander of the 
+Thracians of Asia was Bassaces son of Artabanus. 
+
+76. The [Pisidians] had little shields of raw 
+oxhide ; each man carried two wolf-hunter's spears ; 
+they wore helmets of bronze, with the ears and 
+horns of oxen wrought in bronze thereon, and crests 
+withal; their legs were wrapped round with strips 
+of purple stuff. In this country is a place of 
+divination sacred to Ares. 
+
+TT. The Cabelees,! who are Meiones, and are called 
+Lasonii, had the same equipment as the Cilicians; 
+when I come in my recording to the place of the 
+Cilicians, 1 will then declare what it was, The 
+Milyae had short spears and garments fastened by 
+brooches ; some of them carried Lycian bows, and 
+wore caps of skin on their heads. The commander 
+of all these was Badres son of Hystanes. 
+
+78. The Moschi wore wooden helmets on their 
+heads, and carried shields and small spears with 
+long points. The Tibareni and Macrones and 
+Mossynoeci in the army were equipped like the 
+Moschi. Their commanders who marshalled them 
+were, for the Moschi and Tibareni, Ariomardus son 
+of Darius and Parmys, the daughter of Cyrus’ son 
+Smerdis ; for the Macrones and Mossynoeci, Artayctes 
+son of Cherasmis, who was governor of Sestus on the 
+Hellespont. 
+
+1 From a district bordered by Caria, Phrygia, Pisidia, 
+and Lycia. 
+
+337 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+79. Mapes δὲ ἐπὶ μὲν τῇσι κεφαλῇσι κράνεα 
+ἐπιχώρια πλεκτὰ εἶχον, ἀσπίδας δὲ δερματίνας 
+μικρὰς καὶ ἀκόντια. Κόλχοι δὲ περὶ μὲν τῆσι 
+κεφαλῇσι κράνεα ξύλινα, ἀσπίδας δὲ ὠμοβοΐνας 
+μικρὰς αἰχμάς τε βραχέας, πρὸς δὲ μαχαίρας 
+εἶχον. Μαρῶν δὲ καὶ Κόλχων ἡ ἦρχε Φαρανδάτης 
+ὁ Τεάσπιος. ᾿Αλαρόδιοι δὲ καὶ Σάσπειρες κατά 
+
+περ Κόλχοι ὡπλισμένοι ἐστρατεύοντο. τούτων 
+δὲ Μασίστιος ὁ Σιρομίτρεω ἡ ἦρχε. 
+
+80. Τὰ δὲ νησιωτικὰ ἔθνεα τὰ ἐκ τῆς ᾿Ερυθρῆς 
+θαλάσσης ἑπόμενα, νήσων δὲ ἐν τῇσι τοὺς ἀνασπά- 
+στους καλεομένους κατοικίξει βασιλεύς, ἆ ἀγχοτάτω 
+τῶν Μηδικῶν εἶχον ἐσθῆτά τε καὶ ὅπλα. τούτων 
+δὲ τῶν νησιωτέων ἦρχε Μαρδόντης ὁ Βαγαίου, 
+ὃς ἐν Μυκάλῃ στρατηγέων δευτέρῳ ἔτεϊ τούτων 
+ἐτελεύτησε ἐν τῇ μάχῃ. 
+
+81. Ταῦτα ἦν τὰ κατ᾽ ἤπειρον στρατευόμενά τε 
+ἔθνεα καὶ τεταγμένα ἐς τὸν πεξόν. τούτου ὦ ὧν 
+τοῦ στρατοῦ ἦρχον μὲν οὗτοι ot περ εἰρέαται, καὶ 
+οἱ διατάξαντες καὶ ἐξαριθμήσαντες οὗτοι ἦσαν καὶ 
+χιλιάρχας τε καὶ μυριάρχας ἀποδέξαντες, ἑ ἑκατον- 
+τάρχας δὲ καὶ δεκάρχας οἱ μυριάρχαι. τελέων δὲ 
+καὶ ἐθνέων ἢ ἦσαν ἄλλοι σημάντορες. 
+
+82. Ἦσαν μὲν δὴ οὗτοι ot περ εἰρέαται ἄρχοντες, 
+ἐστρατήγεον δὲ τούτων τε καὶ τοῦ σύμπαντος 
+στρατοῦ τοῦ πεξοῦ Μαρδόνιός τε ὁ Γοβρύεω καὶ 
+Τριτανταίχμης ὁ ο ᾿Αρταβάνου τοῦ γνώμην θεμένου 
+
+μὴ στρατεύεσθαι ἐπὶ Ἑλλάδα καὶ | Σμερδομένης ὁ ὁ 
+Ὀτάνεω, Δαρείου «ἀμφότεροι οὗτοι ἀδελφεῶν 
+παῖδες, Ξέρξῃ δὲ ἐγίνοντο ἀνεψιοί, καὶ Μασίστης 
+
+
+1 479. 
+388 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 79-82 
+
+
+79. The Mares wore on their heads the plaited 
+helmets of their country, carrying small shields of 
+hide and javelins. The Colchians had wooden hel- 
+mets and small shields of raw oxhide and short 
+spears, and swords withal. The commander of the 
+Mares and Colchians was Pharandates son of Teaspis. 
+The Alarodians and Saspires in the army were armed 
+like the Colchians; Masistius son of Siromitres was 
+their commander. 
+
+80. The island tribes that came from the Red Sea, 
+and from the islands where the king plants those 
+who are called Exiles, wore dress and armour likest 
+to the Median. The commander of these islanders 
+was Mardontes son of Bagaeus, who in the next year! 
+being then general at Mycale, was there slain in 
+the fight. 
+
+81. These are the nations that marched by the 
+mainland and had their places in the land army. Of 
+this host the commanders were those of whom I have 
+spoken, and these were they that marshalled and 
+numbered the host and appointed captains of 
+thousands and ten thousands, the captains of ten 
+thousands appointing the captains of hundreds and 
+of tens. Others too there were, leaders of troops 
+and nations.? 
+
+82. The commanders then were as aforesaid. The 
+generals of these and of the whole land army were 
+Mardonius son of Gobryas, Tritantaechmes son of 
+that Artabanus who counselled that there should be 
+no expedition against Hellas, Smerdomenes son of 
+Otanes (these two latter were sons of Darius’ 
+brethren, whereby they were Xerxes’ cousins), 
+
+
+? That is, native leaders, not the regular officers of the 
+army. 
+
+
+389 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὁ Δαρείου τε καὶ ᾿Ατόσσης παῖς καὶ Γέργις ὁ 
+᾿Αριάζου καὶ Μεγάβυξος ὁ Ζωπύρου. 
+
+88. Οὗτοι ἦσαν στρατηγοὶ τοῦ σύμπαντος πεξοῦ 
+χωρὶς τῶν μυρίων: τῶν δὲ μυρίων τούτων Περσέων 
+τῶν ἀπολελεγμένων ἐστρατήγεε μὲν Ὑδάρνης ὁ 
+Ὕδάρνεος, ἐκαλέοντο δὲ ἀθάνατοι οἱ Πέρσαι οὗτοι 
+ἐπὶ τοῦδε: εἴ τις αὐτῶν ἐξέλιπε τὸν ἀριθμὸν ἢ 
+θανάτῳ βιηθεὶς ἢ νούσῳ, ἄλλος ἀνὴρ ἀραίρητο, 
+καὶ ἐγίνοντο οὐδαμὰ οὔτε πλεῦνες μυρίων οὔτε 
+ἐλάσσονες. κόσμον δὲ πλεῖστον παρείχοντο διὰ 
+πάντων Πέρσαι, καὶ αὐτοὶ ἄριστοι ἦσαν" σκευὴν 
+μὲν τοιαύτην εἶχον ἥ περ εἴρηται, χωρὶς δὲ χρυσόν 
+τε πολλὸν καὶ ἄφθονον ἔχοντες ἐνέπρεπον, ἆρμα- 
+μάξας τε ἅμα ἤγοντο, ἐν δν παλλακὰς καὶ θερα- 
+πηίην πολλήν τε καὶ εὖ ἐσκευασμένην' σῖτα δέ 
+σφι, χωρὶς τῶν ἄλλων στρατιωτέων, κάμηλοί τε 
+καὶ ὑποζύγια ἦγον. 
+
+84. Ἱππεύει δὲ ταῦτα τὰ ἔθνεα: πλὴν οὐ πάντα 
+παρείχετο ἵππον, ἀλλὰ τοσάδε μοῦνα, Πέρσαι 
+μὲν τὴν αὐτὴν ἐσκευασμένοι καὶ ὁ πεξὸς αὐτῶν" 
+πλὴν ἐπὶ τῇσι κεφαλῇσι εἶχον ἔνιοι αὐτῶν καὶ 
+χάλκεα καὶ σιδήρεα ἐξεληλαμένα ποιήματα. 
+
+85. Εἰσὶ δὲ τινὲς νομάδες ἄνθρωποι Σαγάρτιοι 
+καλεόμενοι, ἔθνος μὲν Περσικὸν καὶ φωνῇ, σκευὴν 
+δὲ μεταξὺ ἔχουσι πεποιημένην τῆς τε Περσικῆς 
+καὶ τῆς Πακτυϊκῆς' ot παρείχοντο μὲν ἵππον 
+ὀκτακισχιλίην, ὅπλα δὲ οὐ νομίξουσι ἔχειν οὔτε 
+χάλκεα οὔτε σιδήρεα ἔξω ἐγχειριδίων, χρέωνται 
+δὲ σειρῆσι πεπλεγμένησι ἐξ ἱμάντων' ταύτησι 
+πίσυνοι ἔρχονται ἐς πόλεμον. ἡ δὲ μάχη τούτων 
+τῶν ἀνδρῶν ἥδε: ἐπεὰν συμμίσγωσι τοῖσι TONE- 
+µίοισι, βάλλουσι τὰς σειρὰς ἐπ᾽ ἄκρῳ βρόχους 
+
+
+399 
+
+
+à BOOK VII. 82-85 
+
+
+Masistes son of Darius and Atossa, Gergis son of 
+Ariazus, and Megabyzus son of Zopyrus. 
+
+83. These were the generals of the whole land 
+army, saving the Ten Thousand; Hydarnes son of 
+Hydarnes was general of these picked ten thousand 
+Persians, who were called Immortals for this reason, 
+that when any one of them fell out of the number by 
+force of death or sickness, another was chosen, and 
+so they were never more or fewer than ten thousand. 
+The Persians showed of all the richest adornment, 
+and were themselves the best in the army. Their 
+equipment was such as I have recorded; over and 
+above this they made a brave show with the abund- 
+ance of gold that they had; carriages withal they 
+brought, bearing concubines and servants many and 
+well equipped ; and their food was brought to them 
+on camels and beasts of burden, apart from the rest 
+of the army. 
+
+84. There are horsemen in these nations, yet not 
+all of them furnished cavalry, but only such as I will 
+show : first the Persians, equipped like their foot, 
+save that some of them wore headgear of hammered 
+bronze and iron. 
+
+85. There are also certain nomads called Sagartian ; 
+they are Persian in speech, and the fashion of their 
+equipment is somewhat between the Persian and 
+the Pactyan; they furnished eight thousand horse- 
+men. It is their custom to carry no armour of 
+bronze or iron, save daggers only, and to use ropes 
+of twisted leather.! In these they trust when they go 
+to battle; and this is their manner of fighting: when 
+they are at close quarters with their enemy, they 
+throw their ropes, these having a noose at the end ; 
+
+
+1 4. e. lassoes. 
+
+
+391 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐχούσας ὅτευ δ᾽ àv τύχη, ἣν Te ἵππου ἦν τε 
+ἀνθρώπου, ἐπ᾽ ἑωυτὸν ἕλκει: of δὲ ἐν ἕρκεσι 
+ἐμπαλασσόμενοι διαφθείρονται. 
+
+86. Τούτων μὲν αὕτη ἡ μάχη, καὶ ἐπετετάχατο 
+ἐς τοὺς Πέρσας Μῆδοι δὲ τήν περ ἐν τῷ πεζῷ 
+εἶχον. σκευήν, καὶ Κίσσιοι -ὡσαύτως, Ἰνδοὶ δὲ 
+σκευῇ μὲν ἐσεσάχατο τῇ αὐτῇ; "καὶ ἐν τῷ πεζῷ, 
+ἤλαυνον δὲ κέλητας καὶ ἅρματα: ὑπὸ δὲ τοῖσι 
+ἅρμασι ὑπῆσαν ἵπποι καὶ ὄνοι ἄγριοι. Βάκτριοι 
+δὲ ἐσκευάδατο ὡσαύτως καὶ ἐν τῷ πεξῷ, καὶ 
+Κάσπιοι ὁμοίως. Λίβυες δὲ καὶ αὐτοὶ κατά περ 
+ἐν τῷ πεζφ' ἤλαυνον δὲ καὶ οὗτοι πάντες ἅρματα. 
+ὣς δ᾽ αὕτως Κάσπιοι καὶ Παρικάνιοι ἐσεσάχατο 
+ὁμοίως καὶ ἐν τῷ πεζῷ. ᾿Αράβιοι δὲ σκευὴν μὲν 
+εἶχον τὴν αὐτὴν καὶ ἐν τῷ πεζῷ, ἤλαυνον δὲ πάντες 
+καμήλους ταχυτῆτα οὐ λειπομένας í ἵππων. 
+
+8T. Ταῦτα. τὰ ἔθνεα μοῦνα ἱππεύει. ἀριθμὸς δὲ 
+τῆς ἵππου ἐγένετο ὀκτὼ μυριάδες, πάρεξ τῶν καμή- 
+λων καὶ τῶν ἁρμάτων. οἱ μέν νυν ἄλλοι ἱππέες 
+ἐτετάχατο κατὰ τέλεα, ᾿Αράβιοι δὲ ἔσχατοι 
+ἐπετετά ατο' dire γὰρ τῶν ἵππων οὔτι ἀνεχομένων 
+τὰς καμήλους, ὕστεροι ἐτετάχατο, ἵνα μὴ φοβέοιτο 
+τὸ ἱππικόν. 
+
+88. "Ίππαρχοι δὲ ἦσαν. Αρμαμίθρης τε καὶ 
+Τίθαιος Δάτιος παῖδες. ὁ δὲ τρίτος σφι συν- 
+ἵππαρχος Φαρνούχης κατελέλειπτο ἐν Lap δισι 
+νοσέων. ὡς γὰρ ὁρμῶντο ἐκ Σαρδίων, ἐπὶ 
+συμφορὴν περιέπεσε ἀνεθέλητον' ἐλαύνοντι γάρ 
+οἱ ὑπὸ τοὺς πόδας τοῦ ἵππου ὑπέδραμε κύων, καὶ 
+ὁ ἵππος οὐ προϊδὼν ἐφοβήθη τε καὶ στὰς ὀρθὸς 
+ἀπεσείσατο τὸν Φαρνούχεα, πεσὼν δὲ αἷμά τε 
+ἦμεε καὶ ἐς φθίσιν περιῆλθε ἡ νοῦσος. τὸν δὲ 
+392 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 85-88 
+
+
+and whatever they catch, be it horse or man, the 
+thrower drags it to himself, and the enemy thus 
+entangled in the prisoning coils is slain. 
+
+86. This is their manner of fighting ; their place 
+in the army was with the Persians. The Median 
+horse were equipped like their foot, and the Cissians 
+likewise. The Indians were armed in like manner 
+as their foot; they rode swift horses and drove 
+chariots drawn by horses and wild asses. The 
+Bactrians were equipped as were their foot, and the 
+Caspians in like manner. The Libyans too were 
+armed like the men of their infantry, and all of them 
+too drove chariots. So likewise the Caspians and 
+Paricanians were armed as the men of their infantry. 
+The Arabians had the same equipment as the men 
+of their infantry, and all of them rode on camels no 
+less swift than horses. 
+
+87. These nations alone are riders; and the 
+number of the horsemen was shown to be eighty 
+thousand, besides the camels and the chariots. All 
+the rest of the riders were ranked in their several 
+troops, but the Arabians were posted hindmost; for 
+the horses not enduring the sight of camels, their 
+place was in the rear, that so the horses might not 
+be affrighted. 
+
+88. The captains of horse were Harmamithres and 
+Tithaeus, sons of Datis ; the third who was captain 
+with them, Pharnuches, had been left behind sick 
+at Sardis. For as they set forth from Sardis, an 
+unwelcome mishap befel him; a dog ran under the 
+feet of the horse that he rode, and the horse taken 
+unawares reared up and threw Pharnuches; after 
+his fall he vomited blood and his hurt turned toa 
+
+
+393 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἵππον αὐτίκα κατ᾽ ἀρχὰς ἐποίησαν ὡς ἐκέλευε" 
+ἀπαγαγόντες οἱ οἰκέται ἐς τὸν χῶρον ἐν τῷ περ 
+κατέβαλε τὸν δεσπότην, ἐν τοῖσι γούνασι à ἀπέταμον 
+τὰ σκέλεα. Φαρνούχης μὲν οὕτω παρελύθη τῆς 
+ἡγεμονίης. 
+
+89. Tov δὲ τριηρέων ἀριθμὸς μὲν ἐγένετο ἑπτὰ 
+καὶ διηκόσιαι καὶ ίλιαι, παρείχοντο δὲ αὐτὰς 
+οἵδε, Φοίνικες μὲν σὺν Σύροισι τοῖσι ἐν τῇ Παλαι- 
+στίνῃ τριηκοσίας, ὧδε ἐσκευασμένοι: περὶ μὲν 
+τῇσι κεφαλῇσι κυνέας εἶχον ἀγχοτάτω πεποιη- 
+μένας τρόπον τὸν Ἑλληνικόν, ἐνδεδυκότες δὲ 
+θώρηκας λινέους, ἀσπίδας δὲ ἴτυς οὐκ ἐχούσας 
+εἶχον καὶ ἀκόντια. οὗτοι δὲ οἱ Φοίνικες τὸ παλαιὸν 
+οἴκεον, ὡς αὐτοὶ λέγουσι, ἐπὶ τῇ Βρυθρῇ θαλάσσῃ, 
+ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ ὑπερβάντες τῆς Συρίης οἰκέουσι τὸ 
+παρὰ θάλασσαν" τῆς δὲ Συρίης τοῦτο τὸ χωρίον 
+καὶ τὸ μέχρι Αἰγύπτου πᾶν Παλαιστίνη καλέεται. 
+Αἰγύπτιοι δὲ νέας παρείχοντο διηκοσίας. οὗτοι 
+δὲ εἶχον περὶ μὲν τῇσι κεφαλῇσι κράνεα χηλευτά, 
+ἀσπίδας δὲ κοίλας, τὰς ἴτυς μεγάλας ἐχούσας, καὶ 
+δόρατά τε ναύμαχα καὶ τύχους μεγάλους. τὸ δὲ 
+πλῆθος αὐτῶν θωρηκοφόροι ἦσαν, μαχαίρας δὲ 
+μεγάλας εἶχον. 
+
+90. Οὗτοι bev οὕτω ἐστάλατο, Κύπριοι δὲ 
+παρείχοντο νέας πεντήκοντα καὶ ἑκατόν, ἐσκευα- 
+σμένοι ὧδε' τὰς μὲν κεφαλὰς εἱλίχατο μίτρῃσι οἱ 
+βασιλέες αὐτῶν, οἱ δὲ ἄλλοι εἶχον κιθῶνας, τὰ δὲ 
+
+ἄλλα κατά περ Ἕλληνες. τούτων δὲ τοσάδε 
+Eo εἰσί, οἳ μὲν ἀπὸ Σαλαμῖνος καὶ ᾿Αθηνέων, 
+
+? δὲ ἀπ᾽ ᾿Αρκαδίης, of δὲ ἀπὸ Κύθνου, o? δὲ ἀπὸ 
+πρωι, ot δὲ ἀπὸ Αἰθιοπίης, ὡς αὐτοὶ Κύπριοι 
+λέγουσι. 
+
+304 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 88-9o 
+
+
+wasting sickness. The horse was straightway dealt 
+with according to Pharnuches command; his ser- 
+vants led it away to the place where it had thrown 
+their master, and cut off its legs at the knee. Thus 
+it was that Pharnuches lost his captaincy. 
+
+89. The number of the triremes was shown to be 
+twelve hundred and seven; and these were they 
+that furnished them. First, the Phoenicians; they, 
+with the Syrians of Palestine, furnished three 
+hundred. For their equipment, they had on their 
+heads helmets well-nigh of Greek fashion; they 
+wore linen breastplates, and carried shields without 
+rims, and javelins. These Phoenicians dwelt in old 
+time, as they themselves say, by the Red Sea; 
+passing over from thence, they now inhabit the sea- 
+coast of Syria; that part of Syria and as much of it 
+as reaches to Egypt, is all called Palestine. The 
+Egyptians furnished two hundred ships. These 
+wore plaited helmets, and carried hollow shields 
+with broad rims, and spears for sea-warfare, and 
+great poleaxes. The greater part of them wore 
+cuirasses and carried long swords. 
+
+90. Such was their armour: the Cyprians furnished 
+a hundred and fifty ships; for their equipment, 
+their princes wore turbans wrapped round their 
+heads; the people wore tunics, but in all else were 
+like the Greeks. Their tribes are these!: some are 
+from Salamis and Athens, some from Arcadia, some 
+from Cythnus, some from Phoenice, and some from 
+Ethiopia, as the Cyprians themselves say. 
+
+
+1 That is, the entire population contains every where these 
+component parts ; they are not locally separate. 
+
+
+395 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+91. Κίλικες δὲ ἑκατὸν παρείχοντο νέας. οὗτοι 
+δ αὖ περὶ μὲν τῇσι κεφαλῆσι κράνεα ἐπιχώρια, 
+λαισήια δὲ εἶχον ἀντ᾽ ἀσπίδων ὠμοβοέης meron- 
+μένα, καὶ κιθῶνας εἰρινέους ἐνδεδυκότες: δύο δὲ 
+ἀκόντια ἕκαστος καὶ ξίφος εἶχον, ἀγχοτάτω τῇσι 
+Αἰγυπτίῃσι μαχαίρῃσι πεποιημένα. οὗτοι δὲ τὸ 
+παλαιὸν Ὑπαχαιοὶ ἐκαλέοντο, ἐπὶ δὲ Κίλικος τοῦ 
+᾿Αγήνορος ἀνδρὸς Φοίνικος ἔσχον τὴν ἐπωνυμίην. 
+Πάμφυλοι δὲ τριήκοντα παρείχοντο νέας Ἕλλη- 
+νικοῖσι ὅπλοισι ἐσκευασμένοι. οἱ δὲ Πάμφυλοι 
+οὗτοι εἰσὶ τῶν ἐκ Τροίης ἀποσκεδασθέντων ἅμα 
+᾿Αμϕιλόχῳ καὶ Κάλχαντι. 
+
+09. Λύκιοι δὲ παρείχοντο νέας πεντήκοντα 
+θωρηκοφόροι τε ἐόντες καὶ κνημιδοφόροι, εἶχον δὲ 
+τόξα κρανέινα καὶ ὀιστοὺς καλαμίνους ἁπτέρους 
+καὶ ἀκόντια, ἐπὶ δὲ αἰγὸς δέρμα περὶ τοὺς ὤμους 
+αἰωρεύμενον, περὶ δὲ τῆσι κεφαλῇσι πίλους 
+πτεροῖσι περιεστεφανωμένους: ἐγχειρίδια δὲ καὶ 
+δρέπανα εἶχον. Λύκιοι δὲ Τερμίλαι ἐκαλέοντο ἐκ 
+Κρήτης γεγονότες, ἐπὶ δὲ Λύκου τοῦ Πανδίονος 
+ἀνδρὸς ᾿Αθηναίου ἔσχον τὴν ἐπωνυμίην. 
+
+93. Δωριέες δὲ οἱ ἐκ τῆς ᾿Ασίης τριήκοντα 
+παρείχοντο νέας, ἔχοντές τε Ἑλληνικὰ ὅπλα καὶ 
+γεγονότες ἀπὸ Πελοποννήσου. Κᾶρες δὲ ἑβδομή- 
+κοντα παρείχοντο νέας, τὰ μὲν ἄλλα κατά περ 
+"Ελληνες ἐσταλμένοι, εἶχον δὲ καὶ δρέπανα καὶ 
+ἐγχειρίδια. οὗτοι δὲ οἵτινες πρότερον ἐκαλέοντο, 
+ἐν τοῖσι πρώτοισι τῶν λόγων εἴρηται. 
+
+94. Ἴωνες δὲ ἑκατὸν νέας παρείχοντο ἐσκευα- 
+σμένοι ὡς"Ελληνες. "Ἴωνες δὲ ὅσον μὲν χρόνον ἐν 
+Πελοποννήσῳ οἴκεον τὴν νῦν καλεομένην ᾿Αχαιίην, 
+καὶ πρὶν ἢ Δαναὸν τε καὶ Ἐοῦθον ἀπικέσθαι ἐς 
+
+
+396 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 91-94 
+
+
+91. The Cilicians furnished a hundred ships. 
+These, too, wore on their heads the helmets of 
+their country, carrying bucklers of raw oxhide for 
+shields, and clad in woollen tunies; each had two 
+javelins and a sword fashioned well-nigh like the 
+falchions of Egypt. These Cilicians were in old 
+time called Hypachaei, and took the name they 
+bear from Cilix a Phoenician, son of Agenor.! The 
+Pamphylians furnished a hundred ships: they were 
+armed like Greeks. These Pamphylians are de- 
+scended from the Trojans of the dispersal who 
+followed Amphilochus and Calchas. 
+
+92. The Lycians furnished fifty ships; they wore 
+cuirasses and greaves, carrying bows of cornel-wood 
+and unfeathered arrows and javelins; goat-skins 
+hung from their shoulders, and they wore on their 
+heads caps set about with feathers; daggers they 
+had too, and scimitars. The Lycians were of Cretan 
+descent, and were once called Termilae; they took 
+the name they bear from Lycus, an Athenian, son 
+of Pandion. | 
+
+93. The Dorians of Asia furnished thirty ships; 
+their armour was Greek ; they were of Peloponnesian 
+descent. The Carians furnished seventy ships; they 
+had scimitars and daggers, but for the rest Greek 
+equipment. Ofthem I have spoken in the beginning 
+of my history,? telling by what name they were 
+formerly called. 
+
+94. The lonians furnished a hundred ships; their 
+equipment was like the Greek. These Ionians, as 
+long as they were in the Peloponnese dwelling in 
+what is now called Achaia, before Danaus and 
+
+
+i ipd appears to represent the Phoenician Baal. 
+n I. 171. 
+
+
+397 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Πελοπόννησον, ὡς Ἕλληνες λέγουσι, ἐκαλέοντο 
+Πελασγοὶ Αἰγιαλέες, ἐπὶ δὲ Ἴωνος τοῦ Ξούθου 
+Ἴωνες. 
+
+95. Νησιῶται δὲ ἑπτακαίδεκα παρείχοντο νέας, 
+ὡπλισμένοι ὡς “Έλληνες, καὶ τοῦτο Πελασγικὸν 
+ἔθνος, ὕστερον δὲ Ἰωνικὸν ἐκλήθη κατὰ τὸν αὐτὸν 
+λόγον καὶ οἱ δυωδεκαπόλιες Ἴ aves οἱ an ᾿Αθηνέων. 
+Αἰολέες δὲ ἑξήκοντα νέας παρείχοντο, ἐσκευασμένοι 
+τε ὡς” Ελληνες καὶ τὸ πάλαι καλεόμενοι Πελασγοί, 
+ὡς Ἑλλήνων λόγος. Ἑλλησπόντιοι δὲ πλὴν 
+
+Α βυδηνῶν (Αβυδηνοῖσι γὰρ προσετέτακτο ἐκ 
+βασιλέος κατὰ χώρην μένουσι Φύλακας εἶναι τῶν 
+γεφυρέων) οἱ δὲ λοιποὶ οἱ ἐκ τοῦ Πόντου στρατευό- 
+µενοι παρείχοντο μὲν ἑκατὸν νέας, ἐσκευασμένοι 
+δὲ ἡ ἧσαν ὡς Ἕλληνες. οὗτοι δὲ Ἰώνων καὶ Δωριέων 
+ἄποικοι. 
+
+96, ᾿Επεβάτευον δὲ ἐπὶ πασέων τῶν νεῶν 
+Πέρσαι καὶ Μῆδοι καὶ Σάκαι. τούτων. δὲ à ἄριστα 
+πλεούσας παρείχοντο νέας Φοίνικες καὶ Φοινίκων 
+Σιδώνιοι. τούτοισι πᾶσι καὶ τοῖσι ἐς τὸν πεζὸν 
+τεταγμένοισι αὐτῶν ἐπῆσαν ἑκάστοισι ἐπιχώριοι 
+ἡγεμόνες, τῶν ἐγώ, οὐ γὰρ ἀναγκαίῃ ἐξέργομαι 
+ἐς ἱστορίης λόγον, οὐ παραμέμνημαι. οὔτε γὰρ 
+ἔθνεος ἑκάστου ᾿ἐπάξιοι ἦσαν οἱ ἡγεμόνες, ἔν τε 
+ἔθνεῖ ἑκάστῳ ὅσαι περ πόλιες τοσοῦτοι καὶ 
+ἡγεμόνες ἦσαν, εἵποντο δὲ ὡς οὐ στρατηγοὶ 
+ἀλλ᾽ ὥσπερ οἱ ἄλλοι στρατευόμενοι δοῦλοι" ἐπεὶ 
+στρατηγοί γε οἱ τὸ πᾶν ἔχοντες κράτος καὶ 
+ἄρχοντες τῶν ἐθνέων ἑκάστων, ὅσοι αὐτῶν ἦσαν 
+Πέρσαι, εἰρέαταί μοι. 
+
+97. Tod δὲ ναυτικοῦ ἐστρατήγεον ᾿Αριαβίγνης 
+
+
+398 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 94-97 
+
+
+Xuthus came to the Peloponnese, as the Greeks say, 
+were called Aegialian Pelasgians!; they were named 
+Ionians after Ion the son of Xuthus. 
+
+95. The islanders furnished seventeen ships; they 
+were armed like Greeks; they also were of Pelas- 
+gian'stock, which was later called Ionian by the 
+same right as were the Ionians of the twelve cities? 
+who came from Athens. The Aeolians furnished 
+sixty ships; they were equipped like Greeks; in 
+former days they were called Pelasgian, as the 
+Greek story goes. Of the people of the Hellespont, 
+they of Abydos had been charged by the king to 
+abide at home and guard the bridges; the rest 
+that.came from Pontus with the army furnished 
+a hundred ships, and were equipped like Greeks. 
+They were settlers from the Ionians and Dorians. 
+
+96. There were fighting men of the Persians and 
+Medes and Sacae on all the ships. The best sailing 
+ships were furnished by the Phoenicians, and among 
+them by the Sidonians. These, like those of them 
+that were ranked in the land army, had their native 
+leaders severally, whose names I do not record, as not 
+being needful for the purpose of my history; for 
+these several leaders of nations are not worthy of 
+mention, and every city, too, of each nation had a 
+leader of its own. These came not as generals but 
+as slaves, like the rest of the armament; who the 
+generals of supreme authority were, and who the 
+Persian commanders of each nation, I have already 
+said. : 
+
+97. Of the navy, the admirals were Ariabignes 
+
+
+1 Herodotus generally uses the name ‘‘ Pelasgian”’ for the 
+oldest known population of Greece: cp. I. 146; II. 171. 
+? For the twelve cities, see I. 142. 
+
+
+399 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τε ὁ Δαρείου καὶ Πρηξάσπης ὁ ὁ Ασπαθίνεω καὶ 
+Μεγάβαξος 0 Μεγαβάτεω καὶ ᾿Αχαιμένης ὁ 
+Δαρείου, τῆς μὲν Ἰάδος τε καὶ Καρικῆς στρατιῆς 
+᾿Αριαβίγνης ὁ ο Δαρείου τε παῖς καὶ τῆς Γοβρύεω 
+θυγατρός: Αἰγυπτίων δὲ ἐστρατήγεε ᾿Αχαιμένης 
+Εέρξεω € ἐὼν an ἀμφοτέρων ἀδελφεός, τῆς δὲ ἄλλης 
+στρατιῆς ἐστρατήγεον οἱ δύο. τριηκόντεροι δὲ καὶ 
+πεντηκόντεροι καὶ κέρκουροι καὶ ἱππαγωγὰ πλοῖα 
+μακρὰ συνελθόντα ἐς τὸν ἀριθμὸν ἐφάνη τρισχίλια. 
+
+98. Tov δὲ ἐπιπλέοντων μετά γε τοὺς στρατη- 
+γοὺς οἶδε ἦσαν ὀνομαστότατοι, Σιδώνιος Τετρά- 
+μνηστος ᾿Ανύσου, καὶ Τύριος Ματτὴν Σιρώμου, 
+καὶ ᾿Αράδιος Μέρβαλος ᾿Αγθάλου, καὶ Κίλιξ 
+Συέννεσις ᾿ὩὨρομέδοντος, καὶ Λύκιος Κυβερνίσκος 
+Σίκα, καὶ Κύπριοι Γόργος Te ὁ Χέρσιος καὶ 
+Τιμῶναξ ὁ Έιμαγόρεω, καὶ Καρῶν Ἱστιαῖός τε 
+ὁ Τύμνεω καὶ Πίγρης ὁ Ὑσσελδώμου, καὶ Aapa- 
+σίθυμος ὁ Κανδαύλεω. 
+
+99. Τῶν μέν νυν ἄλλων οὐ παραμέμνημαι 
+ταξιάρχων ὡς οὐκ ἀναγκαξόμενος, ᾿Αρτεμισίης 
+δὲ τῆς μάλιστα θῶμα ποιεῦμαι ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα 
+στρατευσαμένης͵ γυναικός" ἥτις ἀποθανόντος τοῦ 
+ἀνδρὸς αὐτή τε ἔ ουσα τὴν τυραννίδα καὶ παιδὸς 
+ὑπάρχοντος νεηνίεω ὑπὸ λήματός τε καὶ ἀνδρηίης 
+ἐστρατεύετο, οὐδεμιῆς οἱ ἐούσης ἀναγκαίης. οὔνομα 
+μὲν δὴ ἡ ἦν αὐτῆ ᾿Αρτεμισίη, θυγάτηρ δὲ ἡ ἦν Λνγδά- 
+μίος, γένος δὲ ἐξ ᾿Αλικαρνησσοῦ τὰ πρὸς πατρός, 
+τὰ μητρόθεν δὲ Κρῆσσα. ἡγεμόνευε δὲ Αλι- 
+καρνησσέων τε καὶ Κῴων καὶ Νισυρίων τε καὶ 
+Καλυδνίων, πέντε νέας παρεχομένη. καὶ συνα- 
+πάσης τῆς στρατιῆς, μετά ye τὰς Σιδωνίων, νέας 
+εὐδοξοτάτας παρείχετο, πάντων τε τῶν συμμάχων 
+400 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 97-99 
+
+
+son of Darius, Prexaspes son of Aspathines, Mega- 
+bazus son of Megabates, and Achaemenes son of 
+Darius, Ariabignes, son of Darius and Gobryas’ 
+daughter, being admiral of the Ionian and Carian 
+fleet; the admiral of the Egyptians was Achaemenes, 
+full brother to Xerxes, and the two others were 
+admirals of the rest. As for the ships of thirty and 
+of fifty oars, and light galleys, and great transports 
+for horses, the sum of them altogether was shown to 
+be three thousand. 
+
+98. Of those that were on shipboard, the most 
+famous, after the admirals, were these: Tetra- 
+mnestus of Sidon, son of Anysus, Matten of Tyre, 
+son of Siromus, Merbalus of Aradus, son of Agbalus, 
+Syennesis of Cilicia, son of Oromedon, Cyberniscus 
+of Lycia, son of Sicas, Gorgus son of Chersis, and 
+Timonax son of Timagoras, Cyprians both; and of 
+the Carians, Histiaeus son of Tymnes, Pigres son of 
+Hysseldomus, and Damasithymus son of Candaules. 
+
+99. I name none of the rest of the captains, 
+having no need so to do, save only Artemisia, who 
+moves me to marvel greatly that a woman should 
+have gone with the armament against Hellas; for 
+her husband being dead, she herself had his 
+sovereignty and a young son withal, and followed 
+the host under no stress of necessity, but of mere 
+high-hearted valour. Artemisia was her name; she 
+was daughter to Lygdamis, on her father's side of 
+Halicarnassian lineage, and a Cretan on her mother's. 
+She was the leader of the men of Halicarnassus and 
+Cos and Nisyrus and Calydnos, furnishing five ships. 
+Her ships were reputed the best in the whole fleet 
+after the ships of Sidon; and of all his allies she 
+
+
+401 
+VOL. III. DD 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+γνώμας ἀρίστας βασιλέι ἀπεδέξατο. τῶν δὲ 
+κατέλεξα πολίων ἡγεμονεύειν αὐτήν, τὸ ἔθνος 
+ἀποφαίνω πᾶν ἐὸν Δωρικόν, “Αλικαρνησσέας μὲν 
+Τροιζηνίους, τοὺς. δὲ ἄλλους ᾿Επιδαυρίους. ἐς μὲν 
+τοσόνδε ὁ ναυτικὸς στρατὸς εἴρηται. 
+
+100. Ξέρξης δέ, ἐπεὶ ἠριθμήθη τε καὶ διετάχθη 
+ὁ στρατός, ἐπεθύμησε αὐτός σφεας διεξελάσας 
+θεήσασθαι: μετὰ δὲ è ἐποίεε ταῦτα, καὶ διεξελαύνων 
+ἐπὶ ἅρματος παρὰ ἔθνος ἓν ἕκαστον ἐπυνθάνετο, 
+καὶ | ἀπέγραφον οἱ γραμματισταί, ἕως ἐξ ἐσχάτων 
+ἐς ἔσχατα. ἀπίκετο καὶ τῆς ἵππου καὶ τοῦ πεξοῦ. 
+ὡς δὲ ταῦτά οἱ ἐπεποίητο, τῶν νεῶν κατέλκυ- 
+σθεισέων è ἐς θάλασσαν, ἐνθαῦτα ὁ Ξέρξης μετεκβὰς 
+ἐκ τοῦ ἅρματος ἐς νέα Σιδωνίην ἵζετο ὑπὸ σκηνῇ 
+χρυσέῃ καὶ παρέπλεε παρὰ τὰς πρώρας τῶν νεῶν, 
+ἐπειρωτῶν τε ἑκάστας ὁμοίως καὶ τὸν πεζὸν καὶ 
+ἀπογραφόμενος. τὰς δὲ νέας οἱ ναύαρχοι ἀναγα- 
+γόντες ὅσον τε τέσσερα πλέθρα ἀπὸ τοῦ αἰγιαλοῦ 
+ἀνεκώχενον, τὰς πρώρας ἐς γῆν τρέψαντες πάντες 
+μετωπηδόν, καὶ. ἐξοπλίσαντες τοὺς ἐπιβάτας ὡς 
+ἐς πόλεμον. ὃ δ᾽ ἐντὸς τῶν πρωρέων πλέων 
+ἐθηεῖτο καὶ τοῦ αἰγιαλοῦ. 
+
+101. Ὡς δὲ καὶ ταύτας διεξέπλωσε καὶ ἐξέβη 
+ἐκ τῆς νεός, μετεπέμψατο Δημάρητον τὸν ᾿Αρί- 
+στωνος συστρατευόμενον αὐτῷ ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα, 
+καλέσας δ᾽ αὐτὸν εἴρετο τάδε. “ Δημάρητε, νῦν 
+μοι σὲ ἡδύ TL ἐστὶ εἰρέσθαι τὰ θέλω. σὺ εἷς 
+Ἕλλην τε, καὶ ὡς ἐγὼ πυνθάνομαι σεῦ τε καὶ 
+τῶν ἄλλων Ἑλλήνων τῶν ἐμοὶ ἐς λόγους ἄπικνεο- 
+μένων, πόλιος OUT ἐλαχίστης οὔτ᾽ ἀσθενεστάτης. 
+νῦν ὧν μοι τόδε φράσον, ei "Ελληνες à ὑπομενέουσι 
+χεῖρας ἐμοὶ ἀνταειρόμενοι. οὐ γάρ, ὡς ἐγὼ δοκέω, 
+402 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 99-1or 
+
+
+gave the king the best counsels. The cities, 
+whereof I said she was the leader, are all of Dorian 
+stock, as I can show, the Halicarnassians being of 
+Troezen, and the rest of Epidaurus. Here ends 
+what I have said of the fleet. 
+
+100. When his host had been numbered and 
+marshalled, Xerxes had a desire to ride through and 
+view it. This he presently did; riding in a chariot 
+past the men of each nation, he questioned them, 
+and his scribes wrote all down, till he had gone from 
+end to end of the horse and foot. This done, and 
+the ships being drawn down and launched in the sea, 
+Xerxes alighted from his chariot into a ship of 
+Sidon, sitting wherein under a golden canopy he 
+was carried past the prows of the ships, questioning 
+of them in like manner as of the army and making 
+the answers to be written down. The captains put 
+out as far as four hundred feet from the shore, and 
+there kept the ships anchored in a line, their prows 
+turned landward, and the fighting men on them 
+armed as for war; Xerxes viewed them, passing 
+between the prows and the land. 
+
+101. Having passed by all his fleet likewise and 
+disembarked from his ship, he sent for Demaratus! 
+son of Ariston, who was marching with him against 
+Hellas, and called and questioned him, saying: 
+* Now, Demaratus, it is my pleasure to ask you what 
+I would fain know. You are a Greek, and, as I am 
+told by you and the other Greeks that converse with 
+me, a man of not the least nor the weakest of 
+Greek cities. Now therefore tell me this: will the 
+Greeks offer me battle and abide my coming? For 
+
+
+! The exiled king of Sparta ; see ch. 3. 
+
+
+493 
+DD 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οὐδ᾽ εἰ πάντες Ἕλληνες καὶ οἱ λοιποὶ οἱ πρὸς 
+ἑσπέρης οἰκέοντες ἄνθρωποι συλλεχθείησαν, οὐκ 
+ἀξιόμαχοι εἰσὶ ἐμὲ ἐπιόντα ὑπομεῖναι, μὴ ἐόντες 
+ἄρθμιοι. θέλω μέντοι καὶ τὸ ἀπὸ σεῦ, ὁκοῖόν τι 
+λέγεις περὶ αὐτῶν, πυθέσθαι.᾽ ὃ μὲν ταῦτα 
+εἰρώτα, ὃ δὲ ὑπολαβὼν ἔφη. “ Βασιλεῦ, κότερα 
+ἀληθείῃ χρήσωμαι πρὸς σὲ ἡ 590v) ; ὃ δέ μιν 
+ἀληθείῃ χρήσασθαι ἐκέλευε, φὰς οὐδέν οἱ ἀηδέστε- 
+pov ἔσεσθαι ἡ πρότερον 7, ἦν. 
+
+102. Ὡς δὲ ταῦτα ἤκουσε Δημάρητος, ἔλεγε 
+τάδε. «Βασιλεῦ, ἐπειδὴ ἀληθείῃ διαχρήσασθαι 
+πάντως κελεύεις ταῦτα λέγοντα τὰ μὴ γευδόμενός 
+τις ὕστερον ὑπὸ σεῦ ἁλώσεται, τῇ Ελλάδι πενίη 
+μὲν aici κοτε σύντροφος ἐστί, ἀρετὴ δὲ ἔ ἔπακτος 
+ἐστί, ἀπό τε σοφίης κατεργασμένη καὶ νόμου 
+ἰσχυροῦ" τῇ διαχρεωμένη ἡ Ἑλλὰς τήν τε πενίην 
+ἀπαμύνεται καὶ τὴν δεσποσύνην. αἰνέω μέν νυν 
+πάντας "Ἕλληνας τοὺς περὶ ἐκείνους τοὺς Δωρι- 
+κοὺς χώρους οἰκημένους, ἔρχομαι δὲ λέξων οὐ 
+περὶ πάντων τούσ ε τους λόγους ἀλλὰ περὶ 
+Λακεδαιμονίων μούνων, πρῶτα μὲν ὅτι οὐκ ἔστι 
+ὅκως κοτὲ σοὺς δέξονται λόγους δουλοσύνην 
+φέροντας τῇ “Ἑλλάδι, αὖτις δὲ ὡς ἀντιώσονταί 
+του ἐς μάχην καὶ ἣν οἱ ἄλλοι Ἕλληνες πάντες 
+τὰ σὰ φρονέωσι. ἀριθμοῦ δὲ πέρι, μή πύθῃ ὅ ὅσοι 
+τινὲς ἐόντες ταῦτα ποιέειν οἷοί τε εἰσί" ἤν τε γὰρ 
+τύχωσι ἐξεστρατευμένοι χίλιοι, οὗτοι -μαχήσονταίΐ 
+TOL, ἥν τε ἐλάσσονες τούτων ἤν τε καὶ πλεῦνες.” 
+
+108. Ταῦτα ἀκούσας Ξέρξης γελάσας ἔφη 
+s Δημάρητε, οἷον ἐφθέγξαο ἔπος, ἄνδρας χιλίους 
+στρατιῇ τοσῇδε μαχήσεσθαι. ἄγε. εἰπέ µου σὺ 
+φὴς τούτων τῶν ἀνδρῶν βασιλεὺς αὐτὸς γενέσθαι" 
+
+
+404 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 101-103 
+
+
+to my thinking, even if all the Greeks and all the 
+men of the western lands were assembled together, 
+they are not of power to abide my attack, if they be 
+not in accord. Nathless I would fain learn your 
+mind and hear what you say of them." Το this 
+question Demaratus made answer, “O king, must 
+I speak truly, or so as to please you?" Xerxes 
+bade him speak the truth, and said that he would 
+lose none of the king's favour thereby. 
+
+102. Hearing that, “O king," said Demaratus, 
+* seeing that you bid me by all means speak the whole 
+truth, and say that which you shall not afterwards 
+prove to be false,—in Hellas poverty is ever native to 
+the soil, but courage comes of their own seeking, the 
+fruit of wisdom and strong law; by use of courage 
+Hellas defends herself from poverty and tyranny. 
+Now I say nought but good of all Greeks that dwell 
+in those Dorian lands ; yet it is not of all that I would 
+now speak, but only of the Lacedaemonians ; and 
+this I say of them; firstly, that they will never 
+accept conditions from you that import the enslaving 
+of Hellas; and secondly, that they will meet you in 
+battle, yea, even though all the rest of the Greeks 
+be on your side. But, for the number of them, ask 
+me not how many these men are, who are like to do 
+as I say; be it of a thousand men, or of more or of 
+fewer than that, their army will fight with you." 
+
+103. Hearing that, Xerxes smiled, and said, “A 
+strange saying, Demaratus! that a thousand men 
+should fight with a host so great as mine! I pray 
+you tell me this: you were (you say) these men's 
+
+
+405 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+σὺ ὧν ἐθελήσεις αὐτίκα μάλα προς ἄνδρας δέκα 
+μάχεσθαι ; καίτοι εἰ τὸ πολιτικὸν ὑμῖν πᾶν ἐστι 
+τοιοῦτον οἷον σὺ διαιρέεις, σέ γε τὸν κείνων 
+βασιλέα πρέπει πρὸς τὸ διπλήσιον ἀντιτάσ- 
+σεσθαι κατὰ νόμους τοὺς ὑμετέρους. εἰ γὰρ 
+κείνων ἕκαστος δέκα ἀνδρῶν τῆς στρατιῆς τῆς 
+ἐμῆς ἀντάξιος ἐστί, σὲ δέ γε δίξημαι εἴκοσι εἶναι 
+ἀντάξιον. καὶ οὕτω μὲν ὀρθοῖτ' ἂν ὁ λόγος ὁ 
+παρὰ σέο λεγόμενος: εἰ δὲ τοιοῦτοί τε ἐόντες καὶ 
+μεγάθεα τοσοῦτοι, ὅσοι σύ τε καὶ οἳ παρ᾽ ἐμὲ 
+φοιτῶσι Ἑλλήνων ἐς λόγους αὐχέετε τοσοῦτον, 
+ὅρα μη, μάτην κόμπος ὁ λόγος οὗτος εἰρημένος 7. 
+ἐπεὶ φέρε ἴδω παντὶ τῷ οἰκότι' κῶς ἂν δυναίατο 
+χίλιοι ἢ καὶ μύριοι 7 καὶ πεντακισμύριοι, ἐόντες 
+γε ἐλεύθεροι πάντες ὁμοίως καὶ μὴ ὑπ' ἑνὸς ἀρχό- 
+μενοι, στρατῷ τοσῷδε ἀντιστῆναι ; ἐπεί τοι 
+πλεῦνες περὶ ἕνα ἕκαστον γινόμεθα L χίλιοι, 
+ἐόντων ἐκείνων πέντε χιλιάδων. ὑπὸ μὲν γὰρ 
+ἑνὸς ἀρχόμενοι κατὰ τρόπον τὸν ἡμέτερον γενοίατ᾽ 
+ἄν, δειμαίνοντες τοῦτον, καὶ παρὰ τὴν ἑωυτῶν 
+φύσιν ἀμείνονες, καὶ ἴοιεν ἀναγκαξόμενοι μάστιγι 
+ἐς πλεῦνας ἐλάσσονες ἐόντες" ἀνειμένοι δὲ ἐς τὸ 
+ἐλεύθερον οὐκ ἂν ποιέοιεν τούτων οὐδέτερα. δοκέω 
+δὲ ἔγωγε καὶ ἀνισωθέντας πλήθεϊ χαλεπῶς ἂν 
+“Ελληνας Πέρσῃσι μούνοισι μάχεσθαι. ἀλλὰ 
+παρ᾽ ἡμῖν μὲν μούνοισι τοῦτο ἐστὶ τὸ σὺ λέγεις, 
+ἔστι γε μὲν οὐ πολλὸν ἀλλὰ σπάνιον' εἰσὶ γὰρ 
+Περσέων τῶν ἐμῶν αἰχμοφόρων οἳ ἐθελήσουσι 
+Ἑλλήνων ἀνδράσι τρισὶ ὁμοῦ. μάχεσθαι" τῶν σὺ 
+ἐὼν ἄπειρος πολλὰ φλυηρέεις." 
+
+104. Πρὸς ταῦτα Δημάρητος λέγει “Ὢ βασιλεῦ, 
+
+
+406 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 103-104 
+
+
+king: will you consent at this present to fight with 
+ten men? Yet if the order of your state be such as 
+you define it to δε, you, being their king should 
+rightly encounter twice as many according to your 
+laws; for if each of those Greeks is a match for ten 
+men of my army, then it is plain to me that you 
+must be a match for twenty. That were a proof 
+that what you say is true; but if you Greeks who so 
+exalt yourselves are like in stature and all else to 
+yourself and those of your nation who have audience 
+of me, then beware lest the words you have spoken 
+be but idle boasting. Nay, let us look at it by plain 
+reason's light : how should a thousand, or ten thousand, 
+or even fifty thousand, if they be all alike free and 
+not under the rule of one man, withstand so great a 
+host as mine? For grant your Greeks to be five 
+thousand, we should so be more than a thousand to 
+one. For, were they under the rule of one according 
+to our custom, they might from fear of him show a 
+valour greater than natural, and under compulsion of 
+the lash might encounter odds in the field; but 
+neither of these would they do while they were 
+suffered to be free. For myself, I think that even 
+were they equal in numbers it would go hard with 
+the Greeks to fight against the Persians alone. Not 
+so; it is we alone and none others that have this 
+skill whereof you speak, yet even of us not many but 
+a few only; there are some among my Persian spear- 
+men that will gladly fight with three Greeks at once ; 
+of this you have no knowledge and do but utter 
+arrant folly.” 
+
+104. To this Demaratus answered, “O king, I 
+
+
+1 This no doubt alludes to the double portion given to a 
+Bpartan king at feasts ; cp. VI, 57. 
+
+
+401 
+
+
+HERODOT US 
+
+
+ἀρχῆθεν ἠπιστάμην ὅτι ἀληθείῃ χρεώμενος οὐ 
+φίλα τοι ἐρέω" σὺ Ò ἐπεὶ ἠνάγκασας λέγειν τῶν 
+λόγων τοὺς ἀληθεστάτους, ἔλεγον τὰ κατήκοντα 
+Σπαρτιήτῃσι. καύτοι ὡς ἐγὼ τυγχάνω τὰ νῦν 
+τάδε ἐστοργὼς ἐκείνους, αὐτὸς μάλιστα ἐξεπί- 
+στεαι, οἵ ue τιμήν τε καὶ γέρεα ἀπελόμενοι πα- 
+τρώια ἄπολίν τε καὶ φυγάδα πεποιήκασι, πατὴρ 
+δὲ σὸς ὑποδεξάμενος βίον τέ μοι. καὶ οἶκον 
+ἔδωκε. οὔκων οἰκός ἐστι ἄνδρα τὸν σώφρονα 
+εὐνοίην φαινομένην .διωθέεσθαι, ἀλλὰ στέργειν 
+μάλιστα. ἐγὼ δὲ οὔτε δέκα ἀνδράσι ὑπίσχομαι 
+οἷός τε εἶναι μάχεσθαι οὔτε δυοῖσι, ὁ ἑκών τε εἶναι 
+οὐδ᾽ ἂν μουνομαχέοιμι. LL δὲ ἀναγκαίη εἴη ὴ 
+μέγας τις ὁ ἐποτρύνων ἀγών, μαχοίμην ἂν πάντων 
+ἥδιστα ἑνὶ τούτων τῶν ἀνδρῶν οἳ Ἑλλήνων ἕκα- 
+στος φησὶ τριῶν ἄξιος εἶναι, ὣς δὲ καὶ Λακε- 
+δαιμόνιοι κατὰ μὲν ἕνα μαχόμενοι οὐδαμῶν εἰσι 
+κακίονες ἀνδρῶν, ἁλέες δὲ ἄριστοι ἀνδρῶν ἁπάν- 
+των, .ἐλεύθεροι γὰρ ἐόντες οὐ πάντα ἐλεύθεροι 
+εἰσί" ἔπεστι γάρ σφι δεσπότης νόμος, τὸν ὑπο- 
+δειμαίνουσι πολλῷ ἔτι μᾶλλον 5 oí σοὶ σέ. 
+ποιεῦσι γῶν τὰ ἂν ἐκεῖνος ἀνώγῃ" ἀνώγει δὲ τὠυτὸ 
+αἰεί, οὐκ ἐῶν φεύγειν οὐδὲν πλῆθος ἀνθρώπων ἐκ 
+μάχης, ἀλλὰ μένοντας ἐν τῇ τάξι ἐπικρατέειν 7 
+ἀπόλλυσθαι. σοὶ δὲ εἰ φαίνομαι ταῦτα λέγων 
+φλυηρέειν, τἆλλα σιγᾶν θέλω τὸ λοιπόν" νῦν τε 
+ἀναγκασθεὶς ἔλεξα. γένοιτο μέντοι κατὰ νόον 
+τοι, βασιλεῦ. » 
+
+105. "^O μεν δὴ ταῦτα. ἀμείψατο, Ξέρξης δὲ ἐς 
+γέλωτά τε ἔτ ρεψε καὶ οὐκ ἐποιήσατο ὀργὴν 
+οὐδεμίαν, ἀλλ᾽ ἠπίως αὐτὸν ἀπεπέμψατο. τούτῳ 
+δὲ ἐς λόγους ἐλθὼν Ἐέρξης, καὶ ὕπαρχον ἐν τῷ 
+408 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 104-105 
+
+
+knew from the first that the truth would be unwel- 
+come to you. But since you constrained me to 
+speak as truly as I could, I have told you how it 
+. stands with the Spartans. Yet you yourself best 
+know what love I bear them—men that have robbed 
+me of my honourable office and the prerogative of 
+my house, and made me a cityless exile; then it was 
+your father that received me and gave me dwelling 
+and livelihood. It is not then to be thought that a 
+right-minded man will reject from him plain good will, 
+but rather that he will requite it with full affection. 
+But for myself, I will not promise that I can fight 
+with ten men, no, nor with two, and of my own will I 
+would not even fight with one; yet under stress of 
+necessity, or of some great issue to spur me on, I would 
+most gladly fight with one of those men who claim 
+to be each a match for three Greeks. So is it with 
+the Lacedaemonians; fighting singly they are as 
+brave as any man living, and together they are the 
+best warriors on earth. Free they are, yet not 
+wholly free ; for law is their master, whom they fear 
+much more than your men fear you. This is my 
+proof—what their law bids them, that they do; and 
+its bidding is ever the same, that they must never 
+flee from the battle before whatsoever odds, but 
+abide at their post and there conquer or die. If 
+this that I say seems to you but foolishness, then let 
+me hereafter hold my peace; it is under constraint 
+that I have now spoken. But may your wish, O 
+king! be fulfilled." 
+
+105. Thus Demaratus answered; Xerxes made a 
+jest of the matter and showed no anger, but sent 
+him away with all kindness. Having thus conversed 
+
+
+409 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Δορίσκῳ τούτῳ καταστήσας Μασκάμην τὸν Me- 
+γαδόστεω, τὸν δὲ ὑπὸ Δαρείου σταθέντα κατα- 
+παύσας, ἐξήλαυνε τὸν στρατὸν διὰ τῆς (Θρηίκης 
+ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα. 
+
+106. Κατέλιπε δὲ ἄνδρα τοιόνδε Μασκάμην 
+γενόμενον, τῷ μούνῳ Ξέρξης δῶρα πέμπεσκε 
+
+/ 
+
+ὡς ἀριστεύοντι πάντων ὅσους αὐτὸς κατέστησε 
+ἢ Δαρεῖος ὑπάρχους, πέμπεσκε δὲ ἀνὰ πᾶν ἔτος" 
+ὣς δὲ καὶ ᾿Αρτοξέρξης ὁ Ἐέρξεω τοῖσι Μασκα- 
+μείοισι È ἐκγόνοισι. κατέστασαν. yàp. ἔτι πρότερον 
+ταύτης τῆς ἐλάσιος ὕπαρχοι ἐν τῇ Θρηίκῃ καὶ 
+τοῦ Ἑλλησπόντου πανταχῇ. οὗτοι ὧν πάντες οἵ 
+τε ἐκ Θρηίκης καὶ τοῦ Ελλησπόντου, πλὴν τοῦ 
+ἐν Δορίσκῳ, ὑπὸ "Ἑλλήνων ὕστερον ταύτης τῆς 
+στρατηλασίης ἐξαιρέθησαν' τὸν δὲ ἐν Δορίσκῳ 
+Μασκάμην οὐδαμοί κω ἐδυνάσθησαν ἐξελεῖν 
+πολλῶν .πειρησαμένων. διὰ τοῦτο δή οἱ τὰ 
+δῶρα πέμπεται παρὰ τοῦ βασιλεύοντος αἰεὶ ἐν 
+Πέρσησι. 
+
+107. Τῶν δὲ ἐξαιρεθέντων ὑπὸ Ελλήνων οὐδένα 
+βασιλεὺς Ξέρξης ἐνόμισε εἶναι ἄνδρα ἀγαθὸν εἰ 
+μὴ Ῥόγην μοῦνον τὸν ἐξ ᾿Ηιόνος, τοῦτον δὲ αἰνέων 
+οὐκ ἐπαύετο, καὶ τοὺς περιεόντας αὐτοῦ ἐν Πέρσῃσι 
+παῖδας é ἐτίμα μάλιστα, ἐπεὶ καὶ ἄξιος αἴνου μεγά- 
+Aou ἐγένετο Ῥόγης' ὃς ἐπειδὴ ἐπολιορκέετο ὑπὸ 
+᾿Αθηναίων καὶ Κίμωνος τοῦ Μιλτιάδεω, παρεὸν 
+αὐτῷ ὑπόσπονδον ἐξελθεῖν καὶ νοστῆσαι ἐς τὴν 
+᾿Ασίην, οὐκ ἠθέλησε, μὴ δειλίῃ δόξειε περιεῖναι 
+βασιλέι, ἀλλὰ διεκαρτέρεε ἐς τὸ ἔ ἔσχατον. ὡς δ᾽ 
+οὐδὲν ἔτι φορβῆς ἐνῆν ἐν τῷ τεί ei, συννήσας 
+πυρὴν μεγάλην ἔσφαξε τὰ τέκνα καὶ τὴν γυναῖκα 
+καὶ τὰς παλλακὰς καὶ τοὺς οἰκέτας καὶ ἔπειτα 
+410 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 105-107 
+
+
+with Demaratus, and having appointed Mascames 
+son of Megadostes his viceroy of that same Doriscus, 
+deposing him whom Darius had set there, Xerxes 
+marched his army through Thrace towards Hellas. 
+
+106. This Mascames, whom he left, so bore him- 
+self that to him alone Xerxes ever sent gifts, as being 
+the most valiant of all the viceroys that he or Darius 
+set up; every year he would send them ; and so too 
+did Artoxerxes his son to Mascames' descendants. 
+For before this march, viceroys had been appointed 
+everywhere in Thrace and on the Hellespont. All 
+these in that country, except the viceroy of Doriscus, 
+were after this expedition dispossessed by the 
+Greeks; but Mascames of Doriscus could never be 
+dispossessed by any, though many essayed it. For 
+this cause it is that the gifts are sent by whoever is 
+at any time king of Persia. 
+
+107. Of those who were dispossessed by the 
+Greeks there was none whom king Xerxes deemed 
+a valiant man except only Boges, from whom they 
+took Eion. But this Boges he never ceased praising, 
+and gave very great honour to his sons who were 
+left alive in Persia; and indeed Boges proved 
+himself worthy of all praise. Being besieged by the 
+Athenians under Cimon son of Miltiades, he might 
+have departed under treaty from Εἴοη and so 
+returned to Asia; yet he would not, lest the king 
+should think that he had saved his life out of 
+cowardice, but he resisted to the last. Then, when 
+there was no food left within his walls, he piled up 
+a great pyre and slew and cast into the fire his 
+children and wife and concubines and servants; 
+
+
+411 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐσέβαλε ἐς τὸ πῦρ, μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα τὸν χρυσὸν 
+ἅπαντα τὸν ἐκ τοῦ ἄστεος καὶ τὸν ἄργυρον 
+ἔσπειρε ἀπὸ τοῦ τείχεος ἐς τὸν Στρυμόνα, ποιήσας 
+δὲ ταῦτα ἑωυτὸν ἐσέβαλε ἐς τὸ πῦρ. οὕτω μὲν 
+οὗτος δικαίως αἰνέεται ἔτι καὶ ἐς τόδε ὑπὸ 
+Περσέων. 
+
+108. Héptns δὲ è ἐκ τοῦ Δορίσκου ἐπορεύετο ἐπὶ 
+τὴν Ἑλλάδα, τοὺς δὲ αἰεὶ γινομένους ἐμποδὼν 
+συστρατεύεσθαι ἠνάγκαξε' ἐδεδούλωτο γάρ, ὡς 
+καὶ πρότερόν μοι δεδήλωται, ἡ ἡ μέχρι Θεσσαλίης 
+πᾶσα καὶ ἦν ὑπὸ βασιλέα δασμοφόρος, Μεγα- 
+Bátov τε καταστρεψαμένου καὶ ὕστερον Μαρδο- 
+νίου. παραμείβετο δὲ πορευόμενος ἐκ Δορίσκου 
+πρῶτα μὲν τὰ Σαμοθρηΐκια τείχεα, τῶν ἐσχάτη 
+πεπόλισται πρὸς ἑσπέρης πόλις τῇ οὔνομα ἐστὶ 
+Μεσαμβρίη. ἔχεται δὲ ταύτης Θασίων πόλις 
+Στρύμη, διὰ δὲ σφέων τοῦ μέσου Λίσος ποταμὸς 
+διαρρέει, ὃς τότε οὐκ ἀντέσχε τὸ ὕδωρ παρέχων 
+τῷ Ἐέρξεω στρατῷ ἀλλ᾽ ἐπέλιπε. ἡ δὲ χώρη 
+αὕτη πάλαι μὲν ἐκαλέετο Γαλλαϊκή, νῦν δὲ 
+Βριαντική: ἔστι μέντοι τῷ δικαιοτάτῳ τῶν λόγων 
+καί αὕτη Κικόνων. 
+
+109. Διαβὰς δὲ τοῦ Λίσου ποταμοῦ τὸ ῥέεθρον 
+ἀπεξηρασμένον πόλιας Ελληνίδας τάσδε παρα- 
+μείβετο, Μαρώνειαν Δίκαιαν "Αβδηρα. ταύτας 
+τε δὴ παρεξήιε καὶ κατὰ ταύτας λίμνας ὀνομαστὰς 
+τάσδε, Μαρωνείης μὲν μεταξὺ καὶ Στρύμης κει- 
+μένην Ἰσμαρίδα, κατὰ δὲ Δίκαιαν Βιστονίδα, ἐ ἐς 
+τὴν ποταμοὶ δύο ἐσιεῖσι τὸ ὕδωρ, Τραῦός τε καὶ 
+Κόμψαντος. κατὰ δὲ "Αβδηρα λίμνην ge οὐδε- 
+μίαν ἐοῦσαν ὀνομαστὴν παραμείψατο Ἑέρξης, 
+ποταμὸν δὲ Νέστον ῥέοντα ἐς θάλασσαν. μετὰ 
+
+
+412 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 107-109 
+
+
+after that, he took all the gold and silver from the 
+city and scattered it from the walls into the 
+Strymon ; which done, he cast himself into the fire. 
+Thus it is that he is justly praised by the Persians 
+to this day. 
+
+108. From Doriscus Xerxes went on his way 
+towards Hellas, compelling all that he met to go 
+with his army ; for, as I have before shown, all the 
+country as far as Thessaly had been enslaved and 
+was tributary to the king, by the conquests of 
+Megabazus and Mardonius after him. On his road 
+from Doriscus he first passed the Samothracian 
+fortresses,! whereof that one which is builded farthest 
+westwards is a town called Mesambria. Next to 
+it is a Thasian town, Stryme; between them runs 
+the river Lisus, which now could not furnish water 
+enough for Xerxes’ army, but was exhausted. All 
+this region was once called Gallaic, but it is now 
+called Briantic; yet it too is by rights a land of the 
+Cicones. 
+
+109. Having crossed the bed (then dried up) of 
+the river Lisus he passed by the Greek cities of 
+Maronea, Dicaea, and Abdera. Past these he went, 
+and past certain lakes of repute near to them, the 
+Ismarid lake that lies between Maronea and Stryme, 
+and near Dicaea the Bistonian lake, into which the 
+rivers Travus and Compsantus disembogue. Near 
+Abdera Xerxes passed no lake of repute, but crossed 
+the river Nestus where it flows into the sea. From 
+
+! Erected doubtless by the Samothracians to protect their 
+possessions on the mainland. 
+
+
+413 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δὲ ταύτας τὰς χώρας ἑὼν τὰς ἠπειρώτιδας πόλις 
+παρήιε, τῶν ἐν pui λίμνη ἐοῦσα τυγχάνει ὡσεὶ 
+τριήκοντα σταδίων μάλιστά κῃ τὴν περίοδον, 
+ἐχθυώδης τε καὶ κάρτα ἁλμυρή' ταύτην τὰ ὑπο- 
+vya μοῦνα ἀρδόμενα ἀνεξήρηνε. τῇ δὲ πόλι 
+ταύτῃ οὔνομα ἐστὶ Πίστυρος. 
+
+110. Ταύτας μὲν δὴ τὰς πόλιας τὰς παραθα- 
+λασσίας τε καὶ Ελληνίδας ἐξ εὐωνύμου ειρὸς 
+ἀπέργων mapene: ἔθνεα δὲ Θρηίκων δι ὧν τῆς 
+χώρης ὁδὸν ἐποιέετο τοσάδε, Παῖτοι Κίκονες 
+Βίστονες Σαπαῖοι Δερσαῖοι ᾿Ηδωνοὶ Σάτραι. 
+τούτων οἱ μὲν παρὰ θάλασσαν κατοικημένοι ἐν 
+τῇσι νηυσὶ εἴποντο' οἱ δὲ αὐτῶν τὴν μεσόγαιαν 
+οἰκέοντες καταλεχθέντες τε ὑπ᾽ ἐμεῦ, πλὴν Σα- 
+τρέων, οἱ ἄλλοι πάντες πεζῇ ἀναγκαζόμενοι 
+εἵποντο. 
+
+111, Σάτραι δὲ οὐδενός κω ἀνθρώπων ὑπήκοοι 
+ἐγένοντο, ὅσον ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν, ἀλλὰ διατελεῦσι τὸ 
+μέχρι ἐμεῦ αἰεὶ ἐόντες ἐλεύθεροι μοῦνοι Θρηίκων" 
+οἰκέουσί τε γὰρ ὄρεα ὑψηλά, ἴδῃσί τε παντοίῃσι 
+καὶ χιόνι συνηρεφέα, καὶ εἰσὶ τὰ πολέμια ἄκροι. 
+οὗτοι οἱ τοῦ Διονύσου τὸ μαντήιον εἰσὶ ἐκτημένοι" 
+τὸ δὲ μαντήιον τοῦτο ἔστι μὲν ἐπὶ τῶν ὀρέων | τῶν 
+ὑψηλοτάτων, Βησσοὶ δὲ τῶν Σατρέων εἰσὶ οἱ 
+προφητεύοντες τοῦ ἱροῦ, πρόμαντις δὲ 7 χρέωσα 
+κατά περ ἐν Δελφοῖσι, καὶ οὐδὲν ποικιλώτερον. 
+
+112. Παραμειψάμενος δὲ ὁ Ξέρξης τὴν εἰρη- 
+μένην, δεύτερα τούτων παραμείβετο τείχεα τὰ 
+Πιέρων, τῶν ἑνὶ Φάγρης ἐστὶ οὔνομα καὶ ἑτέρῳ 
+Πέργαμος. ταύτῃ μὲν δὴ map αὐτὰ τὰ τείχεα 
+
+
+414 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 109-112 
+
+
+these regions he passed by the cities of the main- 
+land, one whereof has near it a lake of about thirty 
+furlongs in circuit, full of fish and very salt; this was 
+drained dry by no more than the watering of the 
+beasts of burden. This town is called Pistyrus. 
+
+110. Past these Greek towns of the sea-board 
+Xerxes marched, keeping them on his left; the 
+Thracian tribes through whose lands he journeyed 
+were the Paeti, Cicones, Bistones, Sapaei, Dersaei, 
+Edoni, and Satrae.! Of these tribes they that dwelt 
+by the sea followed his host on shipboard ; they that 
+dwelt inland, whose names I have recorded, were 
+constrained to join with his land army, all of them 
+save the Satrae. 
+
+111. But these Satrae, as far as our knowledge 
+goes, have never yet been subject to any man; 
+they alone of all Thracians have ever been and 
+are to this day free; for they dwell on high moun- 
+tains covered with forests of all kinds and snow; 
+and they are warriors of high excellence. It is they 
+who possess the place of divination sacred to 
+Dionysus; which place is among the highest of 
+their mountains; the Bessi, a clan of the Satrae, 
+are the prophets of the shrine, and it is a priestess 
+that utters the oracle, as at Delphi; nor is aught 
+more of mystery here than there.? 
+
+112. Passing through the land aforesaid Xerxes 
+next passed the fortresses of the Pierians, one called 
+Phagres and the other Pergamus. By this way he 
+
+
+! All these are tribes of the Nestus and Strymon valleys or 
+the intervening hill country. 
+
+? Hdt. appears to mean that the method of divination is 
+the '* usual" one, as at Delphi ; perhaps there were exagger- 
+ated accounts of the mysterious rites of the Bessi. 
+
+
+415 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τὴν ὁδὸν ἐποιέετο, ἐκ δεξιῆς χειρὸς τὸ Πάγγαιον 
+ὄρος ἀπέργων, ἐὸν μέγα τε καὶ ὑψηλόν, ἐν τῷ 
+χρύσεά τε καὶ ἀργύρεα ἔνι μέταλλα, τὰ νέμονται 
+Πίερές τε καὶ Ὀδόμαντοι καὶ μάλιστα Σάτραι. 
+
+119. Ὑπεροικέοντας δὲ τὸ Πάγγαιον πρὸς 
+Bopéw ἀνέμου Παίονας Δόβηράς τε καὶ Παιόπλας 
+παρεξιὼν ἤιε πρὸς ἑσπέρην, ἐς ὃ ἀπίκετο ἐπὶ 
+ποταμόν τε Στρυμόνα καὶ πόλιν ᾿Ηιόνα, τῆς ἔτι 
+ζωὸς ἐὼν ἦρχε Βόγης τοῦ περ ὀλίγῳ πρότερον 
+τούτων λόγον ἐποιεύμην. ἡ δὲ γῆ αὕτη ἡ περὶ τὸ 
+Πάγγαιον ὄρος καλέεται Φυλλίς, κατατείνουσα 
+τὰ μὲν πρὸς ἑσπέρην ἐπὶ ποταμὸν ᾿Αγγίτην ἐκδι- 
+δόντα ἐς τὸν Στρυμόνα, τὰ δὲ πρὸς μεσαμβρίην 
+τείνουσα ἐς αὐτὸν τὸν Στρυμόνα' ἐς τὸν οἱ Μάγοι 
+ἐκαλλιερέοντο σφάζοντες ἵππους λευκούς. 
+
+114. Φαρμακεύσαντες δὲ ταῦτα ἐς τὸν ποταμὸν 
+καὶ ἄλλα πολλὰ πρὸς τούτοισι ἐν ᾿Εννέα ὁδοῖσι 
+thot ᾿Ηδωνῶν ἐπορεύοντο κατὰ τὰς γεφύρας, τὸν 
+Στρυμόνα εὑρόντες ἐζευγμένον. ᾿Ειννέα δὲ ὁδοὺς 
+πυνθανόμενοι τὸν χῶρον τοῦτον καλέεσθαι, το- 
+σούτους ἐν αὐτῷ παῖδάς τε καὶ παρθένους ἀνδρῶν 
+τῶν ἐπιχωρίων ζώοντας κατώρυσσον. Περσικὸν 
+δὲ τὸ ζώοντας κατορύσσειν, ἐπεὶ καὶ ᾿Άμηστριν 
+τὴν Ἐέρξεω γυναῖκα πυνθάνομαι γηράσασαν δὶς 
+ἑπτὰ Περσέων παῖδας ἐόντων ἐπιφανέων ἀνδρῶν 
+ὑπὲρ ἑωυτῆς τῷ ὑπὸ γῆν λεγομένῳ εἶναι θεῷ 
+ἀντιχαρίξεσθαι κατορύσσουσαν. 
+
+115. Ὡς δὲ ἀπὸ τοῦ Στρυμόνος ἐπορεύετο 
+ὁ στρατός, ἐνθαῦτα πρὸς ἡλίου δυσμέων ἐστὶ 
+416 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 112-115 
+
+
+marched under their very walls, keeping on his 
+right the great and high Pangaean range, wherein 
+the Pierians and Odomanti and the Satrae in especial 
+have mines of gold and silver. 
+
+113. Marching past the Paeonians, Doberes, and 
+Paeoplae, who dwell beyond and northward of the 
+Pangaean mountains,! he went ever westwards, till 
+he came to the river Strymon and the city of Eion, 
+the governor whereof was that Boges, then still 
+alive, of whom I have lately made mention. All 
+this region about the Pangaean range is called 
+Phyllis; it stretches westwards to the river Angites, 
+which issues into the Strymon, and southwards 
+to the Strymon itself; by that water the Magi 
+slew white horses, offering thus sacrifice for good 
+omens. 
+
+114. Having used these enchantments and many 
+other besides on the river, they passed over it at 
+the Edonian town of Nine Ways,? by the bridges 
+which they found thrown across it. There, learning 
+that Nine Ways was the name of the place, they 
+buried alive that numbet of boys and maidens, 
+children of the people of the country. Το bury 
+alive is a Persian custom; I have heard that when 
+Xerxes’ wife Amestris attained to old age she 
+buried fourteen sons of notable Persians, as a thank- 
+offering on her own behalf to the fabled god of the 
+nether world. 
+
+115. Journeying from the Strymon, the army 
+passed by Argilus, a Greek town standing on a 
+
+
+1 In 112 Xerxes was marching along the coast; here he 
+is far inland. Doubtless the explanation lies in the division 
+of his army into three parallel columns (121). 
+
+2 About three miles above Eion on the Strymon. 
+
+
+417 
+VOL. III. EE 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+αἰγιαλὸς ἐν τῷ οἰκημένην ᾿Αργιλον πόλιν Ελλάδα 
+παρεξήιε' αὕτη δὲ καὶ ἡ κατύπερθε ταύτης 
+καλέεται Βισαλτίη. ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ κόλπον τὸν 
+ἐπὶ Ποσιδηίου ἐξ ἀριστερῆς χειρὸς ἔχων ἤιε διὰ 
+Συλέος πεδίου καλεομένου, Στάγειρον πόλιν 
+Ἑλλάδα παραμειβόμενος, καὶ ἀπίκετο ἐς '" Akav- 
+θον, ἅμα ἀγόμενος τούτων ἕκαστον τῶν ἐθνέων 
+καὶ τῶν περὶ τὸ Πάγγαιον ὄρος οἰκεόντων, ὁμοίως 
+καὶ τῶν πρότερον κατέλεξα, τοὺς μὲν παρὰ θά- 
+λασσαν ἔχων οἰκημένους ἐκ νηυσὶ στρατευομένους, 
+τοὺς δ᾽ ὑπὲρ θαλάσσης πεζῇ ἑπομένους. τὴν δὲ 
+ὁδὸν ταύτην, τῇ βασιλεὺς ElépEns τὸν στρατὸν 
+ἤλασε, οὔτε συγχέουσι Θρήικες οὔτ᾽ ἐπισπείρουσι 
+σέβονταί τε μεγάλως τὸ μέχρι ἐμεῦ. 
+
+116. Ὡς δὲ ἄρα ἐς τήν ᾽Ακανθον ἀπίκετο, 
+ξεινίην τε ὁ Ξέρξης τοῖσι ᾿Ἀκανθίοισι προεῖπε 
+καὶ ἐδωρήσατο σφέας ἐσθῆτι Μηδικῇ ἐπαίνεέ τε, 
+ὁρέων καὶ αὐτοὺς προθύμους ἐ ἐόντας ἐς τὸν πόλεμον 
+καὶ τὸ ὄρυγμα ἀκούων. 
+
+117. Ἐν ᾿Ακάνθῳ δὲ, ἐόντος Ξέρξεω συνήνεικε 
+ὑπὸ νούσου ἀποθανεῖν τὸν ἐπεστεῶτα τῆς διώρυ- 
+χος ᾿Αρταχαίην, δόκιμον ἐόντα παρὰ Ξέρξῃ, καὶ 
+γένος ᾿Αχαιμενίδην, μεγάθεϊ τε μέγιστον ἐόντα 
+Περσέων (ἀπὸ γὰρ πέντε πηχέων βασιληίων 
+ἀπέλειπε τέσσερας δακτύλους) φωνέοντά τε 
+μέγιστον ἀνθρώπων, ὥστε Ξέρξην συμφορὴν 
+ποιήσαμενον μεγάλην ἐξενεῖκαί τε αὐτὸν κάλ- 
+λιστα καὶ θάψαι: ἐτυμβοχόεε δὲ πᾶσα ἡ στρατιή. 
+τούτῳ δὲ τῷ ᾿Αρταχαίῃ θύουσι ᾿Ακάνθιοι ἐκ 
+θεοπροπίου ws ἥρωι, ἐπονομάξοντες τὸ οὔνομα, 
+
+118. Βασιλεὺς μὲν δὴ Ξέρξης ἀπολομένου 
+
+
+418 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 115-118 
+
+
+stretch of sea-coast further westwards; the territory 
+of which town and that which lies inland of it are 
+called Bisaltia. Thence, keeping on his left hand 
+the gulf off Poseideion, Xerxes traversed the plain 
+of Syleus (as they call it), passing by the Greek 
+town of Stagirus, and came to Acanthus; he took 
+along with him all these tribes, and those that dwelt 
+about the Pangaean range, in like manner as those 
+others whom I have already recorded, the men of 
+the coast serving in his fleet and the inland men in 
+his land army. All this road, whereby king Xerxes 
+led his army, the Thracians neither break up nor 
+sow aught on it, but they hold it in great reverence 
+to this day. 
+
+116. When Xerxes came to Acanthus, he declared 
+the Acanthians his guests and friends, and gave 
+them a Median dress, praising them for the zeal 
+wherewith he saw them furthering his campaign, 
+and for what he heard of the digging of the 
+canal. 
+
+117. While Xerxes was at Acanthus, it so befel 
+that Artachaees, overseer of the digging of the 
+canal, died of a sickness. He was high in. Xerxes’ 
+favour, an Achaemenid by lineage; he was the 
+tallest man in Persia, lacking four finger-breadths 
+of five royal cubits! in stature, and his voice was the 
+loudest on earth. Wherefore Xerxes mourned him 
+greatly and gave him a funeral and burial of great 
+pomp, and the whole army poured libations on 
+his tomb. The Acanthians hold Artachaees a hero, 
+and sacrifice to him, calling upon his name; this 
+they do by the bidding of an oracle. 
+
+118. King Xerxes, then, mourned for the death ot 
+
+
+1 This would make Artachaees eight feet high. 
+
+
+419 
+EE 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+᾿Αρταχαίεω ἐποιέετο συμφορήν. οἱ δὲ ὑποδε- 
+κόμενοι Ἑλλήνων τὴν στρατιὴν καὶ δειπνίξοντες 
+Ξέρξην ἐς πᾶν κακοῦ ἀπίκατο, οὕτω ὥστε ἀνά- 
+στατοι ἐκ τῶν οἴκων ἐγίνοντο: ὅκου Θασίοισι 
+ὑπὲρ τῶν ἐν τῇ «ἠπείρῳ πολίων τῶν σφετερέων 
+δεξαμένοισι τὴν Ξέρξεω στρατιὴν καὶ δειπνίσασι 
+᾿Αντίπατρος ὁ Ὀργέος ἀραιρημένος, τῶν ἀστῶν 
+- ἀνὴρ δόκιμος ὅμοια τῷ μάλιστα, ἀπέδεξε ἐς τὸ 
+δεῖπνον τετρακόσια τάλαντα ἀργυρίου τετελε- 
+σμένα. 
+
+119. Ὡς δὲ παραπλησίως καὶ ἐν τῇσι ἄλλῃσι 
+πόλισι οἱ ἐπεστεῶτες ἀπεδείκνυσαν τὸν λόγον. 
+τὸ γὰρ δεῖπνον τοιόνδε τι ἐγίνετο, οἷα ἐκ πολλοῦ 
+χρόνου προειρημένον καὶ περὶ πολλοῦ ποιευμένων" 
+τοῦτο μέν, ὡς ἐπύθοντο τάχιστα τῶν κηρύκων 
+τῶν περιαγγελλόντων, δασάμενοι σῖτον ἐν τῇσι 
+πόλισι οἱ ἀστοὶ ἄλευρά τε καὶ ἄλφιτα ἐποίευν 
+πάντες ἐπὶ μῆνας συχνούς" τοῦτο δὲ κτήνεα 
+ἐσίτενον ἐξευρίσκοντες τιμῆς τὰ κάλλιστα, ἔτρε- 
+φόν τε ὄρνιθας. χερσαίους καὶ λιμναίους ἔν τε 
+οἰκήμασι καὶ λάκκοισι, ἐς ὑποδοχὰς τοῦ στρατοῦ" 
+τοῦτο δὲ χρύσεά τε καὶ ἀργύρεα ποτήριά τε καὶ 
+κρητῆρας ἐποιεῦντο καὶ τἆλλα ὅσα ἐπὶ τράπεξαν 
+τιθέαται πάντα. ταῦτα μὲν αὐτῷ τε βασιλέι. καὶ 
+τοῖσι ὁμοσίτοισι «μετ᾽ ἐκείνου ἐπεποίητο, τῇ δὲ 
+ἄλλῃ στρατιὴ τὰ ἐς φορβὴν μοῦνα τασσόμενα. 
+ὅκως δὲ ἀπίκοιτο ἡ στρατιή, σκηνὴ μὲν ἔσκε 
+πεπηγυῖα ἑτοίμη ἐς τὴν αὐτὸς σταθμὸν ποιεέσκετο 
+Ξέρξης, ἡ δὲ ἄλλη στρατιὴ ἔσκε ὑπαίθριος. ὡς 
+δὲ δείπνου ἐγίνετο ὥρη, οἱ μὲν δεκόμενοι € ἔχεσκον 
+πόνον, οἳ δὲ ὅ ὅκως πλησθέντες νύκτα αὐτοῦ ἀγά- 
+γοιεν, τῇ ὑστεραίῃ τήν τε σκηνὴν ἀνασπάσαντες 
+420 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 118-119 
+
+
+Artachaees. But the Greeks who received Xerxes’ 
+army and entertained the king himself were brought 
+to the depth of misery, insomuch that they were 
+driven from house and home; witness the case of 
+the Thasians, who received and feasted Xerxes’ army 
+on behalf of their towns on the mainland ; Antipatrus 
+son of Orgeus, 45 notable a man as any of his towns- 
+men, chosen by them for this task, rendered them 
+an account of four hundred silver talents expended 
+on the dinner. 
+
+119. A like account was rendered in all the other 
+cities by the controllers. For since the command 
+for it had been given long before, and the matter 
+was esteemed a weighty one, the dinner was some- 
+what on this wise: As soon as the townsmen had 
+word from the heralds’ proclamation, they divided 
+corn among themselves in their cities and all of them 
+for many months ground it to wheaten and barley 
+meal ; moreover they fed the finest beasts that money 
+could buy, and kept landfowl and waterfowl in cages 
+and ponds, for the entertaining of the army; and 
+they made gold and silver cups and bowls and all 
+manner of service for the table. These latter were 
+made for the king himself and those that ate with 
+him; for the rest of the army they provided only 
+what served for food. At the coming of the army, 
+there was a pavilion built for Xerxes’ own lodging, 
+and his army abode in the open air. When the 
+hour came for dinner, the hosts would have no light 
+task ; as for the army, when they had eaten their fill 
+and passed the night there, on the next day they 
+would rend the pavilion from the ground and take 
+
+
+421 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+καὶ τὰ ἔπιπλα πάντα λαβόντες οὕτω ἀπελαύνε- 
+σκον, λείποντες οὐδὲν ἀλλὰ φερόμενοι. 
+
+120. Ἔνθα δὴ Μεγακρέοντος ἀνδρὸς ᾿Αβδηρίτεω 
+ἔπος εὖ εἰρημένον ἐγένετο, ὃς συνεβούλευσε 
+᾿Αβδηρίτῃσι πανδημεί, αὐτοὺς καὶ γυναῖκας, 
+ἐλθόντας ἐς τὰ σφέτερα ἱρὰ ἵξεσθαι ἱκέτας τῶν 
+θεῶν παραιτεοµένους καὶ Τὸ λοιπόν σφι ἀπαμύνειν 
+τῶν ἐπιόντων κακῶν τὰ ἡμίσεα, τῶν τε παροιχο- 
+μένων ἔχειν σφι μεγάλην χάριν, ὅτι βασιλεὺς 
+Ἐέρξης ov δὶς ἑκάστης ἡμέρης ἐνόμισε σῖτον 
+αἱρέεσθαι" παρέχειν γὰρ ἂν ᾿Αβδηρίτῃσι, εἰ 
+καὶ ἄριστον προείρητο ὅμοια τῷ δείπνῳ Tapa- 
+σκευάξειν, ἡ μὴ ὑπομένειν Ξέρξην ἐπιόντα ἢ 
+καταμείναντας κάκιστα πάντων ἀνθρώπων cia- 
+τριβῆναι. 
+
+121. Οἳ μὲν δῇ πιεζόμενοι ὅ ὅμως τὸ ἐπιτασσό- 
+μενον ἐπετέλεον. Ξέρξης δὲ ex τῆς ᾿Ακάνθου, 
+ἐντειλάμενος τοῖσι στρατηγοῖσι ToU ναυτικοῦ 
+στρατοῦ ὑπομένειν ἐν Θέρμη, ἀπῆκε ἀπ᾽ ἑωυτοῦ 
+πορεύεσθαι τὰς νέας, Θέρμῃ δὲ τῇ ἐν τῷ Θερμαίῳ 
+κόλπῳ οἰκημένῃ, aT ἧς καὶ ὁ κόλπος οὗτος τὴν 
+ἐπωνυμίην ἔχει" ταύτῃ γὰρ ἐπυνθάνετο συντο- 
+μώτατον εἶναι. μέχρι μὲν γὰρ ᾿Ακάνθου ὧδε 
+τεταγμένος ὁ στρατὸς ἐκ Δορίσκου τὴν ὁδὸν 
+ἐποιέετο: τρεῖς μοίρας ὁ Ξέρξης δασάμενος πάντα 
+τὸν πεζὸν στρατόν, μίαν αὐτέων ἔταξε παρὰ 
+θάλασσαν ἰέναι ὁμοῦ τῷ ναυτικῷ" ταύτης μὲν 
+δὴ ἐστρατήγεον Μαρδόνιός τε καὶ Μασίστης, 
+ἑτέρη δὲ τεταγμένη ἤιε τοῦ στρατοῦ τριτημορὶς 
+τὴν μεσόγαιαν, τῆς ἐστρατήγεον Ἱριτανταίχμης 
+τε καὶ Γέ έργις" ἡ δὲ τρίτη τῶν μοιρέων, μετ ἧς 
+ἐπορεύετο αὐτὸς Ξέρξης, ἤιε μὲν τὸ μέσον αὐτῶν, 
+422 
+
+
+BOOK VII. t19-121 
+
+
+all things movable, and so march away, leaving 
+nothing but carrying all with them. 
+
+120. It was then that there was a very apt saying 
+uttered by one Megacreon of Abdera: he counselled 
+his townsmen to go all together, men and women, 
+to their temples, and there in all humility entreat 
+the gods to defend them in the future from half 
+of every threatened ill; and let them (so he 
+counselled) thank the gods heartily for past favour, 
+in that it was Xerxes' custom to take a meal only 
+once a day; else, had they been commanded to 
+furnish a breakfast of like fashion as the dinner, 
+the people of Abdera would have had no choice 
+but either to flee before Xerxes coming, or to 
+perish most miserably if they awaited him. 
+
+121. So the townsmen, hard put to it as they 
+were, yet did as they were commanded. Quitting 
+Acanthus, Xerxes sent his ships on their course 
+away from him, giving orders to his generals that 
+the fleet should await him at Therma, the town on 
+the Thermaic gulf which gives the gulf its name; 
+for this, he learnt, was his shortest way. For the 
+order of the army's march, from Doriscus to Acanthus, 
+had been such as I will show: dividing all his land 
+army into three portions, Xerxes appointed one of 
+them to march beside his fleet along the sea-coast, 
+with Mardonius and Masistes for its generals; 
+another third of the army marched as appointed 
+further inland, under Tritantaechmes and Gergis ; 
+the third portion, with which went Xerxes himself, 
+
+
+423 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+στρατηγοὺς δὲ παρείχετο Σμερδομένεά τε καὶ 
+Μεγάβυζον. 
+
+122. “O μέν νυν ναυτικὸς στρατὸς ὡς ἀπείθη 
+ὑπὸ Ξέρξεω καὶ διεξέπλωσε τὴν διώρυχα τὴν ἐν 
+τῷ "Ao γενομένην, διέχουσαν δὲ ἐς κόλπον ἐν 
+τῷ "Ασσα τε πόλις καὶ Πίλωρος καὶ Σίγγος καὶ 
+Σάρτη οἴκηνται, ἐνθεῦτεν, ὡς καὶ ἐκ τουτέων τῶν 
+πολίων στρατιὴν παρέλαβε, ἔπλεε ἀπιέμενος ἐς 
+τὸν Θερμαῖον κόλπον, κάμπτων Òe Αμπέλον τὴν 
+Τορωναίην ἄκρην παραμείβετο Ἑλληνίδας γε 
+τάσδε πόλις, ἐκ τῶν νέας τε καὶ στρατιὴν παρε- 
+λάμβανε, Τορώνην Γαληψὸν Σερμύλην Μηκύ- 
+Bepvav ' Ὄλυνθον. 
+
+123. Ἡ μέν νυν χώρη αὕτη Σιθωνίη καλέεται, 
+ὁ δὲ ναυτικὸς στρατὸς o Ἐἱέρξεω συντάµνων 
+an’ ᾽Αμπέλου ἄκρης ἐπὶ Καναστραίην ἄκρην, τὸ 
+δὴ πάρης τῆς Παλλήνης ἀνέχει μάλιστα, ἐνθεῦτεν 
+νέας τε καὶ στρατιὴν παρελάμβανε ἐκ Ποτιδαίης 
+καὶ ᾿Αφύτιος καὶ Νέης πόλιος καὶ Αἰγῆς καὶ 
+Θεράμβω καὶ Σκιώνης καὶ Μένδης καὶ Σάνης' 
+αὗται γὰρ εἰσὶ αἱ τὴν νῦν Παλλήνην πρότερον 
+δὲ Φλέγρην καλεομένην νεμόμεναι. παραπλέων 
+δὲ καὶ ταύτην τὴν χώρην ἔπλεε ἐς τὸ προειρη- 
+μένον, παραλαμβάνων στρατιὴν καὶ ἐκ τῶν προσ- 
+εχέων πολίων τῇ Παλλήνῃ, ὁμουρεουσέων δὲ 
+τῷ Θερμαίῳ κόλπῳ, τῆσι οὐνόματα ἐστὶ τάδε, 
+Λίπαξος Κώμβρεια Aloa Γίγωνος Κάμψα Σμίλα 
+Αἴνεια' ἡ δὲ τοντέων χώρη Κροσσαίη ἔτι καὶ ἐς 
+τόδε καλέεται. ἀπὸ δὲ Aiveins, ἐς τὴν ἐτελεύτων 
+καταλέγων τὰς πόλις, ἀπὸ ταύτης ἤδη ἐς αὐτόν 
+τε τὸν Θερμαῖον κόλπον ἐγίνετο τῷ ναυτικῷ 
+στρατῷ ὁ πλόος καὶ γῆν τὴν Μυγδονίην, πλέων 
+
+
+424 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 121-123 
+
+
+marched between the two, and its generals were 
+Smerdomenes and Megabyzus. 
+
+122. Now when the fleet had left Xerxes and 
+sailed through the canal made in Athos (which canal 
+reached to the gulf wherein stand the towns of Assa, 
+Pilorus, Singus, and Sarte), thence taking on board 
+troops from these cities also, it stood out to sea for 
+the Thermaic gulf, and rounding Ampelus, the 
+headland of Torone, it passed the Greek towns of 
+Torone, Galepsus, Sermyle, Mecyberna, and Olynthus, 
+from all which it received ships and men. 
+
+123. This country is called Sithonia. The fleet 
+held a straight course from the headland of Am- 
+pelus to the Canastraean headland, where Pallene 
+runs farthest out to sea, and received ships and 
+men from the towns of what is now Pallene but 
+was formerly called Phlegra, to wit, Potidaea, 
+Aphytis, Neapolis, Aege, Therambos, Scione, Mendi, 
+and Sane. Sailing along this coast they made for 
+the place appointed, taking troops from the towns 
+adjacent to Pallene and near neighbours of the 
+Thermaic gulf, whereof the names are Lipaxus, 
+Combrea, Lisae, Gigonus, Campsa, Smila, Aenea; 
+whose territory is called Crossaea to this day. 
+From Aenea, the last-named in my list of the 
+towns, the course of the fleet lay thenceforward to 
+the Thermaic gulf itself and the Mygdonian territory, 
+
+
+425 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δὲ ἀπίκετο ἔς τε τὴν προειρημένην Θέρμην καὶ 
+Σίνδον τε πόλιν καὶ Χαλέστρην ἐπὶ τὸν "Αξιον 
+ποταμόν, ὃς οὐρίξει χώρην τὴν Μυγδονίην τε καὶ 
+Βοττιαιίδα, τῆς ἔχουσι τὸ παρὰ θάλασσαν στεινὸν 
+χωρίον πόλιες Ἴχναι τε καὶ Πέλλα. 
+
+124. Ὁ μὲν δὴ ναυτικὸς στρατὸς αὐτοῦ περὶ 
+"Άξιον ποταμὸν καὶ πόλιν Θέρμην καὶ τὰς μεταξὺ 
+πόλιας τούτων περιμένων βασιλέα ἐστρατοπε- 
+δεύετο, Ξέρξης δὲ καὶ ὁ πεξὸς στρατὸς ἐπορεύετο 
+ἐκ τῆς ᾿Ακάνθου τὴν μεσόγαιαν τάμνων τῆς 0000, 
+Βουλόμενος ἐς τὴν Θέρμην ἀπικέσθαι" ἐπορεύετο 
+δὲ διὰ τῆς Παιονικῆς καὶ Κρηστωνικῆς ἐπὶ 
+ποταμὸν Χείδωρον, ὃς ἐκ Κρηστωναίων ἀρξάμενος 
+ῥέει διὰ Μυγδονίης χώρης καὶ ἐξιεῖ παρὰ τὸ ἕλος 
+τὸ ἐπ᾽ ᾿Αξίῳ ποταμῷ. 
+
+125. Πορευομένῳ δὲ ταύτῃ λέοντές οἱ ἐπεθή- 
+καντο τῆσι σιτοφόροισι καμήλοισι. καταφοι- 
+τέοντες γὰρ οἱ λέοντες τὰς νύκτας καὶ λείποντες 
+τὰ σφέτερα ἤθεα ἄλλου μὲν οὐδενὸς ἅπτοντο οὔτε 
+ὑποζυγίου οὔτε ἀνθρώπου, of δὲ τὰς καμήλους 
+ἐκεράιξον μούνας. θωμάξω δὲ τὸ αἴτιον, ὅ τι 
+κοτὲ ἦν τῶν ἄλλων τὸ ἀναγκάξον ἀπεχομένους 
+τοὺς λέοντας τῇσι καμήλοισι ἐπιτίθεσθαι, τὸ 
+μήτε πρότερον ὀπώπεσαν θηρίον μήτ᾽ ἐπεπειρέατο 
+αὐτοῦ. 
+
+126. Εἰσὶ δὲ κατὰ ταῦτα τὰ χωρία καὶ λέοντες 
+πολλοὶ καὶ βόες ἄγριοι, τῶν τὰ κέρεα ὑπερμεγάθεα 
+ἐστὶ τὰ ἐς "Ελληνας φοιτέοντα. οὖρος δὲ τοῖσι 
+λέουσι ἐστὶ 6 τε δι ᾿Αβδήρων ῥέων ποταμὸς 
+Νέστος καὶ ὁ δι ᾿Ακαρνανίης ῥέων ᾿Αχελῷος" 
+οὔτε γὰρ τὸ πρὸς τὴν ἠῶ τοῦ Νέστου οὐδαμόθι 
+πάσης τῆς ἔμπροσθε Εὐρώπης ἴδοι τις ἂν λέοντα, 
+426 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 123-126 
+
+
+till its voyage ended at Therma, the place appointed, 
+and the towns of Sindus and Chalestra, where it 
+came to the river Axius; this is the boundary, 
+between the Mygdonian and the Bottiaean territory, 
+wherein stand the towns of Ichnae and Pella on the 
+narrow strip of sea-coast. 
+
+124. So the fleet lay there off the river Axius and 
+the city of Therma and the towns between them, 
+awaiting the king. But Xerxes and his land army 
+marched from Acanthus by the straightest inland 
+course, making for Therma. Their way lay through 
+the Paeonian and the Crestonaean country to the 
+river Cheidorus, which, rising in the Crestonaean land, 
+flows through the Mygdonian country and issues by 
+the marshes of the Axius. 
+
+125. As Xerxes thus marched, lions attacked the 
+camels that carried his provision ; nightly they would 
+come down out of their lairs and made havoc of the 
+camels alone, seizing nothing else, man or beast of 
+burden; and I marvel what was the reason that 
+constrained the lions to touch nought else but attack 
+the camels, creatures whereof till then they had no 
+sight or knowledge. | 
+
+126. There are many lions in these parts, and wild 
+oxen, whose horns are those very long ones which 
+are brought into Hellas. The boundary of the lions’ 
+country is the river Nestus that flows through 
+Abdera and the river Achelous that flows through 
+Acarnania. Neither to the east of the Nestus any- 
+where in the nearer part of Europe, nor to the west 
+
+
+427 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οὔτε πρὸς ἑσπέρης τοῦ ᾿Αχελῴου ἐν τῇ ἐπιλοίπῳ 
+ἠπείρῳ, ἀλλ᾽ ἐν τῇ μεταξὺ τούτων τῶν ποταμῶν 
+γίνονται. 
+
+127. Ὡς δὲ ἐς τὴν Θέρμην. ἀπίκετο ὁ Ξέρξης, 
+ἵδρυσε αὐτοῦ τὴν στρατιήν. ἐπέσχεὶ δὲ ὁ στρατὸς 
+αὐτοῦ στρατοπεδευόµενος τὴν παρὰ θάλασσαν 
+χώρην τοσήνδε, ἀρξάμενος ἀπὸ Θέρμης πόλιος 
+καὶ τῆς Μυγδονίης μέχρι Λυδίεώ τε ποταμοῦ καὶ 
+“Αλιάκμονος, οἳ οὐρίξουσι γῆν τὴν Βοττιαιίδα τε 
+καὶ Μακεδονίδα, ἐς τὠυτὸ ῥέεθρον τὸ ὕδωρ svu- 
+μίσγοντες. ἐστρατοπεδεύοντο μὲν δὴ ἐν τούτοισι 
+τοῖσι χωρίοισι οἱ βάρβαροι, τῶν δὲ καταλεχθέντων 
+τούτων ποταμῶν ἐκ Κρηστωναίων f ῥέων Xeidwpos 
+μοῦνος οὐκ ἀντέχρησε TH στρατιῇ πινόμενος ἀλλ᾽ 
+ἐπέλιπε. 
+
+128. Ξέρξης. δὲ ὁ ὀρέων ἐκ τῆς Θέρμης ὄρεα τὰ 
+Θεσσαλικά, τόν τε Ὄλυμπον καὶ τὴν Ὄσσαν, 
+μεγάθεϊ τε ὑπερμήκεα ἐόντα, διὰ -μέσου τε αὐτῶν 
+αὐλῶνα στεινὸν πυνθανόμενος εἶναι δι οὗ ῥέει ὁ 
+Πηνειός, ἀκούων τε ταύτῃ εἶναι ὁδὸν ἐς Θεσσαλίην 
+φέρουσαν, ἐπεθύμησε πλώσας ,θεήσασθαι τὴν 
+ἐκβολὴν τοῦ Πηνειοῦ, ὅτι τὴν ἄνω ὁδὸν ἔμελλε 
+ἐλᾶν διὰ Μακεδόνων τῶν κατύπερθε οἰκημένων 
+ἔστε Περραιβοὺς παρὰ Γόννον πὀλιν' ταύτῃ γὰρ 
+ἀσφαλέστατον ἐπυνθάνετο εἶναι. ὡς δὲ ἐπεθύ- 
+une, καὶ ἐποίεε ταῦτα. ἐσβὰς ἐς Σιδωνίην νέα, ἐς 
+τήν περ ἐσέβαινε αἰεὶ ὅκως τι ἐθέλοι τοιοῦτο 
+
+
+1 Not the whole of Macedonia, but the region originally 
+ruled by the Temenid dynasty, between the rivers Haliacmon 
+and Axius and the foothills of Bermius. Edessa was the 
+chief town. 
+
+
+428 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 126-128 
+
+
+of the Achelous in the rest of the mainland, is any 
+lion to be seen; but they are found in the country 
+between those rivers. 
+
+127. Being come to Therma Xerxes quartered his 
+army there. Its encampment by the sea covered 
+all the space from Therma and the Mygdonian 
+country to the rivers Lydias and Haliacmon, which 
+unite their waters in one stream and so make the 
+border between the Bottiaean and the Macedonian! 
+territory. In this place the foreigners lay encamped ; 
+of the rivers aforesaid, the Cheidorus which flows 
+from the Crestonaean country was the only one 
+which could not suffice for the army's drinking but 
+was thereby exhausted. 
+
+128. When Xerxes saw from Therma the exceed- 
+ing great height of the Thessalian mountains Olympus 
+and Ossa, and learnt that the Peneus flows in a 
+narrow pass through them, which was the way that 
+led into Thessaly, he was taken with a desire to 
+view the mouth of the Peneus, because he was 
+minded to march by the upper road through the 
+highland people of Macedonia to the country of the 
+Perrhaebi and the town of Gonnus 2 for it was told 
+him that this was the safest way. As he desired, so 
+he did; embarking in a ship of Sidon, wherein he 
+ever embarked when he had some such business in 
+
+
+2 Xerxes’ army might have entered Thessaly by marching 
+along the coast between Olympus and the sea, and up the 
+Peneus valley (the pass of Tempe) to Gonnus, Instead, it 
+crossed the mountains; probably both by a route which 
+runs across the southern slope of Olympus to Gonnus, and 
+also by the Petra pass, further inland, between Olympus 
+and Bermius. But Herodotus is mistaken in making the 
+ἄνω ὁδὸς alone reach Gonnus ; the Tempe route would have 
+done the same. 
+
+
+429 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ποιῆσαι, ἀνέδεξε σημήιον καὶ τοῖσι ἄλλοισι ἀνά- 
+γεσθαι, καταλιπὼν αὐτοῦ τὸν πεξὸν στρατόν. 
+ἐπεὶ δὲ ἀπίκετο καὶ ἐθεήσατο Ξέρξης τὴν ἐκβολὴν 
+τοῦ Πηνειοῦ, ἐν θώματι μεγάλῳ ἐνέσχετο, καλέσας 
+δὲ τοὺς κατηγεμόνας τῆς ὁδοῦ εἴρετο εἰ τὸν ποτα- 
+μὸν ἐστὶ παρατρέψαντα ἑτέρῃ ἐς θάλασσαν 
+ἐξαγαγεῖν. 
+
+199. Τὴν δὲ Θεσσαλίην λόγος ἐστὶ τὸ παλαιὸν 
+εἶναι λίμνην, ὥστε YE συγκεκληιμένην πάντοθεν 
+ὑπερμήκεσι ὄρεσι. τὰ μὲν γὰρ αὐτῆς πρὸς τὴν 
+ἠῶ ἔχοντα τό τε Πήλιον ὄρος καὶ ἡ Ὄσσα ἀπο- 
+κληίει συμμίσγοντα. τὰς ὑπωρέας ἀλλήλοισι, τὰ 
+δὲ πρὸς βορέω ἀνέμου Ὄλυμπος, τὰ δὲ πρὸς 
+ἑσπέρην Πίνδος, τὰ δὲ πρὸς .μεσαμβρίην τε καὶ 
+ἄνεμον νότον ἡ “Opus: τὸ μέσον δὲ τούτων τῶν 
+λεχθέντων ὀρέων ἡ Θεσσαλίη ἐστὶ ἐοῦσα κοίλη. 
+ὥστε WY ποταμῶν ἐς αὐτὴν καὶ ἄλλων συχνῶν 
+ἐσβαλλόντων, πέντε δὲ τῶν δοκίμων μάλιστα 
+τῶνδε, Πηνειοῦ καὶ ᾿Απιδανοῦ καὶ ᾿Ὀνοχώνου καὶ 
+᾿Ενιπέος καὶ Παμίσου, οἳ μέν νυν ἐς τὸ πεδίον 
+τοῦτο συλλεγόμενοι ἐκ τῶν ὀρέων τῶν περικληιόν- 
+των τὴν Θεσσαλίην ὀνομαξόμενοι δι ἑνὸς αὐλῶνος 
+καὶ τούτου στεινοῦ ἔκροον ἔχουσι ἐς θάλασσαν, 
+προσυμμίσγοντες τὸ ὕδωρ πάντες ἐς TÓVTO: ἐπεὰν 
+δὲ συμμιχθέωσι τάχιστα, ἐνθεῦτεν ἤδη ὁ Πηνειὸς 
+τῷ οὐνόματι κατακρατέων ἀνωνύμους τοὺς ἄλλους 
+εἶναι ποιέει. τὸ δὲ παλαιὸν λέγεται, οὐκ ἐόντος 
+κω τοῦ αὐλῶνος καὶ διεκρόου τούτου, τοὺς ποτα- 
+μοὺς τούτους, καὶ πρὸς τοῖσι ποταμοῖσι τούτοισι 
+τὴν Βοιθηίδα λίμνην, οὔτε ὀνομάξεσθαι κατά περ 
+νῦν ῥέειν τε οὐδὲν ἢ ἧσσον ἢ νῦν, ῥέοντας δὲ ποιέειν 
+τὴν Θεσσαλίην πᾶσαν πέλαγος. αὐτοὶ μέν νυν 
+
+
+430 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 128—129 
+
+
+hand, he hoisted his signal for the rest also to put 
+out to sea, leaving his land army where it was. 
+Great wonder took him when he came and viewed 
+the mouth of the Peneus; and calling his guides he 
+asked them if it were possible to turn the river from 
+its course and lead it into the sea by another way. 
+129. Thessaly, as tradition has it, was in old times 
+a lake, being enclosed all round by exceeding high 
+mountains ; for on its eastern side it is fenced in by 
+the joining of the lower parts of the mountains Pelion 
+and Ossa, to the north by Olympus, to the west by 
+Pindus, towards the south and the southerly wind 
+by Othrys; in the midst of which mountains afore- 
+said lies the vale of Thessaly. Seeing therefore that 
+many rivers pour into this vale, whereof the five 
+most notable are Peneus, Apidanus, Onochonus, 
+Enipeus, Pamisus: these five, while they flow towards 
+their meeting from the mountains that surround 
+Thessaly, have their several names, till their waters 
+all unite together and so issue into the sea by one 
+and that a narrow passage ; but as soon as they are 
+united, the name of the Peneus thereafter prevails 
+and makes the rest to be nameless. In ancient 
+days, it is said, there was not yet this channel and 
+outfall, but those rivers and the Boebean lake! 
+withal, albeit not yet named, had the same volume 
+of water as now, and thereby turned all Thessaly into 
+
+
+1 In eastern Thessaly, west of Pelion. Naturally, with 
+the whole country inundated, the lake would have no 
+independent existence. 
+
+
+431 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Θεσσαλοί φασι Ποσειδέωνα ποιῆσαι τὸν αὐλῶνα 
+δι οὗ ῥέει ὁ Πηνειός, οἰκότα λέγοντες᾽ ὅστις yap 
+νομίζει Ἡοσειδέωνα τὴν γῆν σείειν καὶ τὰ δι- 
+εστεῶτα ὑπὸ σεισμοῦ τοῦ θεοῦ τούτου ἔργα εἶναι, 
+κἂν ἐκεῖνο ἰδὼν φαίη Ποσειδέωνα ποιῆσαι' ἔστι 
+γὰρ σεισμοῦ ἔργον, ὡς ἐμοὶ φαίνεται εἶναι, ἡ 
+διάστασις τῶν ὀρέων. 
+
+190. Οἱ δὲ κατηγεόµενοι, εἰρομένου Ξέρξεω εἰ 
+ἔστι ἄλλη ἔξοδος ἐς θάλασσαν τῷ Πηνειῷ, 
+ἐξεπιστάμενοι ἀτρεκέως εἶπον '' Βασιλεῦ, ποταμῷ 
+τούτῳ οὐκ ἔστι ἄλλη ἐξήλυσις ἐ ἐς θάλασσαν κατή- 
+KOUTA, ἀλλ. ἥδε αὐτή" ὄρεσι γὰρ περιεστεφάνωται 
+πᾶσα Θεσσαλίη.᾽ Ἐέρξην δὲ λέγεται εἰπεῖν πρὸς 
+ταῦτα «Σοφοὶ ἄνδρες εἰσὶ Θεσσαλοί. ταῦτ᾽ ἄρα 
+πρὸ πολλοῦ ἐφυλάξαντο γνωσιμαχέοντες καὶ 
+τἆλλα καὶ ὅτι χώρην ἄρα εἶχον εὐαιρετόν τε καὶ 
+ταχυάλωτο». τὸν Yy ρ ποταμὸν πρῆγμα ἂν ἦν 
+μοῦνον ἐπεῖναι σφέων ἐπὶ τὴν χώρην, χώματι ἐκ 
+τοῦ αὐλῶνος ἐκβιβάσαντα καὶ παρατρέψαντα͵ δι᾽ 
+ὧν νῦν n ῥεέθρων, ὦ ὥστε Θεσσαλίην πᾶσαν ἔξω 
+τῶν ὀρέων ὑποβρυχέα γενέσθαι. ταῦτα δὲ ë ἔχοντα 
+ἔλεγε ἐς τοὺς ᾿Αλεύεω παῖδας, ὃ ὅτι πρῶτοι Ἑλλή- 
+νων ἐόντες Θεσσαλοὶ ἔδοσαν ἑωυτοὺς βασιλέι, 
+δοκέων ὁ Ξέρξης ἀπὸ παντός σφεας τοῦ ἔθνεος 
+ἐπαγγέλλεσθαι φιλίην. εἴπας δὲ ταῦτα καὶ 
+θεησάμενος ἀπέπλεε ἐς τὴν Θέρμην. 
+
+191. Ὁ μὲν δὴ περὶ Πιερίην διέτριβε ἡμέρας 
+
+
+1 The correspondence in formation of the two sides of the 
+pass (salients on one side answering to recesses on the other) 
+
+
+gives the impression that they were once united and have 
+been violently separated. 
+
+
+432 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 129-131: 
+
+
+asea. Now the Thessalians say that Poseidon made 
+this passage whereby the Peneus flows; and this is 
+reasonable ; for whosoever believes that Poseidon is 
+the shaker of the earth, and that rifts made by 
+earthquakes are that god's handiwork, will judge 
+from sight of that passage that it is of Poseidon's 
+making ; for it is an earthquake, as it seems to me, 
+that has riven the mountains asunder.! 
+
+130. Xerxes enquiring of his guides if there were 
+any other outlet for the Peneus into the sea, they 
+answered him out of their full knowledge: * The 
+river, O king, has no other way into the sea, but 
+this alone; for there is a ring of mountains round 
+the whole of Thessaly." Whereupon, it is said, 
+quoth Xerxes: “They are wise men, these Thessa- 
+lians ; this then in especial was the cause of their 
+precaution long before? when they changed to a 
+better mind, that they saw their country to be so 
+easily and speedily conquerable; for nought more 
+would have been needful than to let the river out 
+over their land by barring the channel with a dam and 
+turning it from its present bed, that so the whole of 
+Thessaly save only the mountains might be under 
+water." This he said with especial regard to the 
+sons of Aleues, these Thessalians being the first 
+Greeks who surrendered themselves to the king; 
+Xerxes supposed that when they offered him friend- 
+ship they spoke for the whole of their nation. Having 
+so said, and ended his viewing, he sailed back to 
+Therma. 
+
+131. Xerxes delayed for many days in the parts of 
+
+
+? As a matter of fact the Thessalians had determined on 
+their policy very recently indeed ; but Xerxes appareutly 
+supposes that they had resolved to join him from the first. 
+
+
+433 
+VOL. III. ΕΕ 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+συχνάς τὸ γὰρ δὴ ὄρος τὸ Μακεδονικὸν ἔκειρε 
+τῆς στρατιῆς τριτημορίς, iva ταύτῃ διεξίῃ ἅ ἅπασα 
+ἡ στρατιὴ ἐς Περραιβούς. οἱ δὲ δὴ κήρυκες οἱ 
+ἀποπεμφθέντες ἐς τὴν Ἑλλάδα ἐπὶ γῆς αἴτησιν 
+ἀπίκατο οἳ μὲν κεινοί, οἳ δὲ φέροντες γῆν τε καὶ 
+ὕδωρ. 
+
+132. Τῶν δὲ δόντων ταῦτα ἐγένοντο οἶδε, Θεσσα- 
+λοὶ Δόλοπες ᾿Ενιῆνες Περραιβοὶ Aoxpot Μάγνητες 
+Μηλιέες ᾿Αχαιοὶ οἱ Φθιῶται καὶ Θηβαῖοι καὶ οἱ 
+ἄλλοι Βοιωτοὶ πλην Θεσπιέων τε καὶ Ἡλαταιέων. 
+ἐπὶ τούτοισι οἱ "Ελληνες ἔταμον ὅρκιον οἱ τῷ 
+βαρβάρῳ πόλεμον ἀειράμενοι᾽ τὸ δὲ ὅ ὅρκιον ὧδε 
+εἶχε, ὅσοι τῷ Πέρση ἔδοσαν σφέας αὐτοὺς "Ελληνες 
+ἐόντες μὴ ἀναγκασθέντες, καταστάντων σφι εὖ 
+τῶν πρηγμάτων, τούτους δεκατεῦσαι τῷ ἐν Δελ- 
+φοῖσι θεῴ. τὸ μὲν δὴ ὅρκιον ὧδε εἶχε τοῖσι 
+Ἕλλησι. 
+
+199. Es δὲ ᾿Αθήνας καὶ Σπάρτην οὐκ ἀπέπεμψε 
+Ξέρξης ἐπὶ γῆς αἴτησιν κήρυκας τῶνδε εἴνεκα' 
+πρότερον Δαρείου. πέμψαντος ἐπ᾽ αὐτὸ τοῦτο, οἳ 
+μὲν αὐτῶν τοὺς αἰτέοντας ἐς τὸ βάραθρον οἳ οἳ δ᾽ ἐς 
+φρέαρ ἐμβαλόντες. ἐκέλευον γῆν τε καὶ ὕδωρ ἐκ 
+τούτων φέρειν παρὰ βασιλέα. τούτων μὲν εἵνεκα 
+οὐκ ἔπεμψε Ἐέρξης τοὺς -αἰτήσοντας" ὅ τι δὲ τοῖσι 
+᾿Αθηναίοισι ταῦτα ποιήσασι τοὺς κήρυκας συν- 
+ήνεικε ἀνεθέλητον γενέσθαι, οὐκ ἔχω εἶπαί τι, πλὴν 
+ὅτι σφέων 7 χώρη καὶ UR πόλις ἐδηιώθη. ἀλλὰ 
+τοῦτο οὐ διὰ ταύτην τὴν αἰτίην δοκέω γενέσθαι. 
+
+134. Τοῖσι δὲ àv Λακεδαιμονίοισι μῆνις kart- 
+έσκηψε Ταλθυβίου τοῦ ᾿Αγαμέμνονος κήρυκος. ἐν 
+
+
+1 Not all the inhabitants of Thessaly, here, but the tribe 
+434 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 131-134 
+
+
+Pieria; for a third part of his army was clearing a 
+road over the Macedonian mountains, that all the 
+army might pass by that way to the Perrhaebian 
+country ; and now returned the heralds who had been 
+sent to Hellas to demand earth, some empty-handed, 
+some bearing earth and water. 
+
+132. Among those who paid that tribute were 
+the Thessalians,! Dolopes, Enienes, Perrhaebians, 
+Locrians, Magnesians, Melians, Achaeans of Phthia, 
+Thebans, and all the Boeotians except the men of 
+Thespiae and Plataea. Against all of these the 
+Greeks who declared war with the foreigner entered 
+into a sworn agreement, which was this: that if they 
+should be victorious they would dedicate to the god 
+of Delphi the possessions of all Greeks who had of 
+free will surrendered themselves to the Persians. 
+Such was the agreement sworn by the Greeks. 
+
+133. But to Athens and Sparta Xerxes sent no 
+heralds to demand earth, and this was the reason: 
+when Darius had before sent men with this same 
+purpose, the demanders were cast at the one city into 
+the Pit 2 and at the other into a well, and bidden to 
+carry thence earth and water to the king. For this 
+cause Xerxes sent no demand. What calamity befel 
+the Athenians for thus dealing with the heralds I 
+cannot say, save that their land and their city was laid - 
+waste; but I think that there was another reason 
+for this, and not the aforesaid.? 
+
+134. Be that as it may, the Lacedaemonians were 
+visited by the wrath of Talthybius, Agamemnon’s 
+
+
+of that name which had settled in the Peneus valley and 
+given its name to the surrounding peoples. 
+? [nto which criminals condemned to death were thrown. 
+? Possibly the burning of the temple at Sardis (V. 102). 
+
+
+435 
+FF 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+γὰρ Σπάρτη ἐστὶ Ταλθυβίου ἰρόν, εἰσὶ δὲ καὶ 
+ἀπόγονοι Ταλθυβιάδαι καλεόμενοι, τοῖσι αἱ 
+κηρυκηίαι αἱ ἐκ Σπάρτης πᾶσαι γέρας δέδονται. 
+μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα τοῖσι Σπαρτιήτῃσι καλλιερῆσαι 
+θυομένοισι οὐκ ἐδύνατο' τοῦτο Ò ἐπὶ χρόνον 
+συχνὸν ἦν σφι. ἀχθομένων δὲ καὶ συμφορῇ 
+χρεωμένων Λακεδαιμονίων, ἁλίης τε πολλάκις 
+συλλεγομένης καὶ κήρυγμα τοιόνδε ποιευμένων, 
+εἴ τις βούλοιτο Λακεδαιμονίων πρὸ τῆς Σπάρτης 
+ἀποθνήσκειν, Σπερθίης τε ὁ ᾿Ανηρίστου καὶ Βοῦλις 
+ὁ Νικόλεω, ἄνδρες Σπαρτιῆται φύσι τε γεγονότες 
+εὖ καὶ χρήμασι ἀνήκοντες ἐ ἐς τὰ πρῶτα, ἐθελονταὶ 
+ὑπέδυσαν ποινὴν τῖσαι Ξέρξῃ. τῶν Δαρείου κηρύ- 
+κων τῶν ἐν Σπάρτῃ ἀπολομένων. οὕτω Ἅπαρ- 
+τιῆται τούτους ὡς ἀποθανευμένους ἐς Μήδους 
+ἀπέπεμψαν. 
+
+185. Αὕτη τε ἡ τόλμα τούτων τῶν ἀνδρῶν 
+θώματος ἀξίη καὶ τάδε πρὸς τούτοισι τὰ ἔπεα. 
+πορευόμενοι. γὰρ ἐς Σοῦσα ἀπικνέονται παρὰ 
+Ὑδάρνεα: ὁ δὲ Ὑδάρνης ἦν μὲν γένος Πέρσης, 
+στρατηγὸς δὲ τῶν παραθαλασσίων ἀνθρώπων τῶν 
+ἐν τῇ Acin ὅς σφεας ξείνια προθέμενος ἱστία, 
+ξεινίξων δὲ εἴρετο τάδε. '''"Ανδρες Λακεδαιμόνιοι, 
+τί δὴ φεύγετε Βασιλέι φίλοι γενέσθαι; ὁρᾶτε γὰρ 
+ὡς ἐπίσταται Βασιλεὺς ἄνδρας ἀγαθοὺς τιμᾶν, ἐς 
+ἐμέ τε καὶ τὰ ἐμὰ πρήγματα ἀποβλέποντες. οὕτω 
+δὲ καὶ ὑμεῖς εἰ δοίητε ὑμέας αὐτοὺς βασιλέι, 
+δεδόξωσθε. γὰρ πρὸς αὐτοῦ ἄνδρες εἶναι ἀγαθοί, 
+ἕκαστος ἂν ὑμέων ἄρχοι γῆς Ἑλλάδος δόντος 
+βασιλέος. πρὸς ταῦτα ὑπεκρίναντο τάδε. 
+$s "Téapves, οὐκ ἐξ ἴσου γίνεται. 7) συμβουλίη 7) 
+ἐς ἡμέας τείνουσα. τοῦ μὲν γὰρ πεπειρημένος 
+436. 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 134-1355 
+
+
+herald; for at Sparta there is a shrine of Talthybius, 
+and descendants of Talthybius called Talthybiadae, 
+who have by right the conduct of all embassies from 
+Sparta. Now after that deed the Spartans could 
+not win good omens from sacrifice, and for a long 
+time it was so. The Lacedaemonians were grieved 
+and dismayed ; ofttimes they called assemblies, and 
+made a proclamation inviting some Lacedaemonian 
+to give his life for Sparta; then two Spartans of noble 
+birth and great wealth, Sperthias son of Aneristus 
+and Bulis son of Nicolaus, undertook of their own 
+free will that they would make atonement to Xerxes 
+for Darius' heralds who had been done to death at 
+Sparta. Thereupon the Spartans sent these men to 
+Media for execution. 
+
+135. Worthy of all admiration was these men's 
+deed of daring, and so also were their sayings which 
+I here record. As they journeyed to Susa, they 
+came to Hydarnes, a Persian, who was general of the 
+sea-coast of Asia; he entertained and feasted them 
+as guests, and as they sat at his board, * Lacedae- 
+monians," he questioned them, “why do you shun 
+the king’s friendship? You can judge from what 
+you see of me and my condition how well the king 
+can honour men of worth. So might it be with you ; 
+would you but put yourselves in the king's hands, 
+being as you are of proven worth in his eyes, every 
+one of you might by his commission be a ruler of 
+Hellàs." To this the Spartans answered: ** Your 
+counsels to us, Hydarnes, are ill assorted ; one half 
+
+; 437 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+συμβουλεύεις, τοῦ δὲ ἄπειρος wv’ τὸ μὲν γὰρ 
+δοῦλος εἶναι ἐξεπίστεαι, ἐλευθερίης δὲ οὔκω 
+ἐπειρήθης, οὔτ᾽ εἰ ἔστι γλυκὺ οὔτ᾽ εἰ μή. εἰ γὰρ 
+αὐτῆς πειρήσαιο, οὐκ ἂν δόρασι συμβουλεύοις 
+ἡμῖν περὶ αὐτῆς μάχεσθαι, ἀλλὰ καὶ πελέκεσι.᾽ 
+196. Ταῦτα μὲν Ὑδάρνεα ἀμείψαντο. ἐνθεῦτεν 
+δὲ ὡς ἀνέβησαν ἐς Σοῦσα καὶ Βασιλέι ἐς ὄψιν 
+ἦλθον, πρῶτα μὲν τῶν δορυφόρων κελευόντων καὶ 
+ἀνάγκην σφι προσφερόντων προσκυνέειν βασιλέα 
+προσπίπτοντας, οὐκ ἔφασαν ὠθεόμενοι i ὑπ᾽ αὐτῶν 
+ἐπὶ κεφαλὴν πονήσει» ταῦτα οὐδαμά' οὔτε γὰρ 
+σφίσι ἐν vop εἶναι ἄνθρωπον προσκυνέειν οὔτε 
+κατὰ ταῦτα ἥκειν. ὡς δὲ ἀπεμαχέσαντο τοῦτο, 
+δεύτερά σφι λέγουσι τάδε καὶ λόγου τοιοῦδε 
+ἐχόμενα “OQ βασιλεῦ Μήδων, ἔπεμψαν ἡμέας 
+Λακεδαιμόνιοι. ἀντὶ τῶν ἐν Σπάρτη ἀπολομένων 
+κηρύκων ποινὴν ἐκείνων τίσοντας,᾽ λέγουσι δὲ 
+αὐτοῖσι ταῦτα Ξέρξης ὑπὸ μεγαλοφροσύνης οὐκ 
+ἔφη ὅμοιος ἔσεσθαι Λακεδαιμονίοισι" κείνους μὲν 
+γὰρ συγχέαι τὰ πάντων ἀνθρώπων νόμιμα 
+ἀποκτείναντας κήρυκας, αὐτὸς δὲ τὰ ἐκείνοισι 
+ἐπιπλήσσει ταῦτα οὐ ποιήσειν, οὐδὲ ἀνταποκτείνας 
+ἐκείνους ἀπολύσειν Λακεδαιμονίους τῆς αἰτίης. 
+197. Οὕτω ἡ Ταλθυβίου μῆνις καὶ ταῦτα 
+ποιησάντων Σπαρτιητέων ἐπαύσατο τὸ παραυ- 
+τίκα, καίπερ ἀπονοστησάντων ἐς Σπάρτην 
+Σπερθίεώ τε καὶ Βούλιος. χρόνῳ δὲ μετέπειτα 
+πολλῷ ἐπηγέρθη κατὰ τὸν Πελοποννησίων καὶ 
+᾿Αθηναίων πόλεμον, ὡς λέγουσι Λακεδαιμόνιοι. 
+τοῦτό μοι ἐν τοῖσι θειότατον φαίνεται γενέσθαι. 
+ὅτι μὲν γὰρ κατέσκηψε e ἐς ἀγγέλους 7) Ταλθυβίου 
+μῆνις οὐδὲ ἐπαύσατο πρὶν ἡ ἐξῆλθε, τὸ δίκαιον 
+
+
+438 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 135-137 
+
+
+of them rests on knowledge, but the other on igno- 
+rance; you know well how to be a slave, but you 
+have never tasted of freedom, to know whether it 
+be sweet or not. Were you to taste of it, not with 
+spears you would counsel us to fight for it, no, but 
+with axes." 
+
+136. This was their answer to Hydarnes. Thence 
+being come to Susa and into the king's presence, 
+when the guards commanded and would have com- 
+pelled them to fall down and do obeisance to the 
+king, they said they would never do that, no not if 
+they were thrust down headlong; for it was not 
+their custom (said they) to do obeisance to mortal 
+men, nor was that the purpose of their coming. 
+Having beaten that off, they next said, “ The Lace- 
+daemonians have sent us, O king of the Medes, in 
+requital for the slaying of your heralds at Sparta, to 
+make atonement for their death," and more to that 
+effect; whereupon Xerxes of his magnanimity said 
+that he would not imitate the Lacedaemonians ; 
+* for you," said he, * made havoc of all human law 
+by slaying heralds; but I will not do that which I 
+blame in you, nor by putting you in turn to death 
+set the Lacedaemonians free from this guilt." 
+
+137. Thus by this deed of the Spartans the wrath 
+of Talthybius was appeased for the nonce, though 
+Sperthias and Bulis returned to Sparta. But long 
+after that it awoke to life again in the war between 
+the Peloponnesians and Athenians, as the Lacedae- 
+monians say. "That seems to me to be a sure sign of 
+heaven's handiwork. It was but just that the wrath 
+of Talthybius descended on ambassadors, nor was 
+
+
+439 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οὕτω ἔφερε' τὸ δὲ συμπεσεῖν ἐς τοὺς παῖδας τῶν 
+ἀνδρῶν. τούτων τῶν ἀναβάντων πρὸς βασιλέα διὰ 
+τὴν μῆνιν, ἐς Νικόλαν τε τὸν Βούλιος καὶ ἐς 
+᾿Ανήριστον τὸν Σπερθίεω, ὃς εἷλε ᾿Αλιέας τοὺς ἐκ 
+T ίρυνθος ὀλκάδι καταπλώσας πλήρεϊ ἀνδρῶν, 
+δῆλον ὦ ὧν μοι ὅτι θεῖον ἐγένετο τὸ πρῆγμα ἐκ τῆς 
+μήνιος᾽ οἳ γὰρ πεμφθέντες ὑπὸ Λακεδαιμονίων 
+ἄγγελοι ἐς τὴν ᾿Ασίην, προδοθέντες δὲ ὑπὸ 
+Σιτάλκεω τοῦ Τήρεω Θρηίκων βασιλέος καὶ 
+Νυμφοδώρου τοῦ Πύθεω , ἀνδρὸς ᾿Αβδηρίτεω, 
+ἥλωσαν κατὰ Βισάνθην. τὴν ἐν Ἑλλησπόντῳ, 
+καὶ ἀπαχθέντες ἐς τὴν ᾿Αττικὴν ἀπέθανον ὑπὸ 
+᾿Αθηναίων, μετὰ δὲ αὐτῶν καὶ ᾿Αριστέας ὁ ᾿Αδει- 
+μάντου Κορίνθιος ἆ ἀνήρ. ταῦτα μέν νυν πολλοῖσι 
+ἔτεσι ὕστερον ἐγένετο τοῦ βασιλέος στόλου, 
+ἐπάνειμι δὲ ἐπὶ τὸν πρότερον λόγον. 
+
+138. Ἡ δὲ στρατηλασίη 5 βασιλέος οὔνομα 
+μὲν εἶχε ὡς ἐπ᾽ ᾿Αθήνας ἐλαύνει, κατίετο δὲ ἐς 
+πᾶσαν τὴν Ἑλλάδα. πυνθανόμενοι δὲ ταῦτα πρὸ 
+πολλοῦ οἱ j^ "Ελληνες οὐκ ἐν ὁμοίῳ. πάντες ἐποιεῦντο. 
+οἱ μὲν γὰρ αὐτῶν δόντες γῆν καὶ ὕδωρ τῷ Πέρσῃ 
+εἶχον θάρσος ὡς οὐδὲν πεισόµενοι ἄχαρι πρὸς τοῦ 
+Βαρβάρου' οἱ δὲ οὐ δόντες ἐν .δείματι. μεγάλῳ 
+κατέστασαν, ATE οὔτε νεῶν ἐουσέων ἐν τῇ Ἑλλάδι 
+ἀριθμὸν ἀξιομάχων δέκεσθαι τὸν ἐπιόντα, οὔτε 
+βουλομένων τῶν πολλῶν ἀντάπτεσθαι τοῦ πολέ- 
+μου, μηδιξόντων δὲ προθύμως. 
+
+1899. ᾿Ενθαῦτα ἆ ἀναγκαίῃ ἐξέργομαι γνώμην ἀπο- 
+δέξασθαι ἐπίφθονον μὲν πρὸς τῶν πλεόνων ἀνθρώ- 
+πων, ὅμως δὲ τῇ γέ μοι φαίνεται εἶναι ἀληθὲς οὐκ 
+
+
+1 Halia was a port in Argolis. The event took place prob- 
+449 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 137-139 
+
+
+abated till it was satisfied; but the venting of it on 
+the sons of those men who went up to the king to 
+appease it, namely, on Nicolas son of Bulis and 
+Aneristus son of Sperthias (that Aneristus who 
+landed a merchant ship's crew at the Tirynthian 
+settlement of Halia and took it),! makes it plain to 
+me that this was heaven's doing by reason of Talthy- 
+bius anger. For these two had been sent by the 
+Lacedaemonians as ambassadors to Asia; betrayed 
+by the Thracian king Sitalces son of Tereus and 
+Nymphodorus son of Pytheas of Abdera, they were 
+made captive at Bisanthe on the Hellespont, and 
+carried away to Attica, where the Athenians put 
+them to death,? and with them Aristeas son of Adi- 
+mantus, a Corinthian. This happened many years 
+after the king's expedition; I return now to the 
+course of my history. 
+
+138. The professed intent of the king's march was 
+to attack Athens, but in truth all Hellas was his 
+aim. This the Greeks had long since learnt, but not 
+all of them regarded the matter alike. Those of 
+them that had paid tribute of earth and water to the 
+Persian were of good courage, thinking that the 
+foreigner would do them no harm; but they who 
+had refused tribute were sore afraid, since there 
+were not in Hellas ships enough to do battle with 
+their invader, and the greater part of them had no 
+stomach for grappling with the war, but were making 
+haste to side with the Persian. 
+
+139. Here I am constrained perforce to declare an 
+opinion which will be displeasing to most; but I will 
+not refrain from uttering what seems to me to be 
+
+
+ably between 460] and 450, when Athens and Argos were 
+allied against Sparta, 2 In 430; cp. Thucyd. 11. 67. 
+441 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐπισχήσω. εἰ ᾿Αθηναῖοι καταρρωδήσαντες τὸν 
+ἐπιόντα κίνδυνον ἐξέλιπον τὴν σφετέρην, ἢ καὶ μὴ 
+ἐκλιπόντες ἀλλὰ μείναντες ἔδοσαν σφέας αὐτοὺς 
+Ἐέρξῃ, κατὰ τὴν θάλασσαν οὐδαμοὶ ἂν ἐπειρῶντο 
+ἀντιούμενοι βασιλέι. εἰ τοίνυν κατὰ τὴν | θάλασσαν 
+μηδεὶς ἠντιοῦτο Ξέρξῃ, κατά γε ἂν τὴν ἤπειρον 
+τοιάδε ἐγίνετο: εἰ καὶ πολλοὶ τειχέων κιθῶνες 
+ἦσαν ἐληλαμένοι διὰ τοῦ Ἰσθμοῦ Πελοποννησίοισι, 
+προδοθέντες ἂν Λακεδαιμόνιοι ὑπὸ.τῶν συμμάχων 
+οὐκ ἑκόντων ἀλλ᾽ ὑπ᾽ ἀναγκαίης, κατὰ πόλις 
+ἁλισκομένων ὑπὸ τοῦ ναυτικοῦ στρατοῦ τοῦ 
+βαρβάρου, ἐμουνώθησαν, μουνωθέντες δὲ ἂν καὶ 
+ἀποδεξάμενοι ἔργα μεγάλα ἀπέθανον γενναίως. 
+ἢ ταῦτα ἂν ἔπαθον, ἢ πρὸ τοῦ ὁρῶντες ἂν καὶ 
+τοὺς ἄλλους “Ελληνας μηδίξοντας ὁμολογίῃ ἂν 
+ἐχρήσαντο πρὸς Ξέρξην. καὶ οὕτω ἂν ἐπ᾿ ἀμφό- 
+Tepa Ñ Ἑλλὰς ἐγίνετο ὑπὸ Πέρσῃσι. τὴν γὰρ 
+ὠφελίην τὴν τῶν τειχέων τῶν διὰ τοῦ Ioh μοῦ ἐλη- 
+λαμένων οὐ δύναμαι πυθέσθαι ἥτις ἂν ἦν, βασιλέος 
+ἐπικρατέοντος τῆς θαλάσσης. νῦν δὲ ᾿Αθηναίους 
+ἄν τις λέγων σωτῆρας γενέσθαι τῆς Ἑλλάδος οὐκ 
+ἂν ἁμαρτάνοι τὸ ἀληθές. οὗτοι γὰρ ἐπὶ ὁκότερα 
+τῶν πρηγμάτων ἐτράποντο, ταῦτα -ῥέψειν ἔμελλε" 
+ἑλόμενοι δὲ τὴν Ελλάδα περιεῖναι. ἐλευθέρην, 
+τοῦτο τὸ Ἑλληνικὸν πᾶν τὸ λοιπόν, ὅσον μὴ 
+ἐμήδισε, αὐτοὶ οὗτοι ἦσαν οἱ ἐπεγείραντες καὶ 
+βασιλέα μετά γε θεοὺς ἀνωσάμενοι. οὐδὲ σφέας 
+χρηστήρια φοβερὰ ἐλθόντα ἐκ Δελφῶν καὶ ἐς 
+δεῖμα βαλόντα ἔπεισε ἐκλιπεῖν THY Ἑλλάδα, 
+ἀλλὰ καταμείναντες ἀνέσχοντο τὸν ἐπιόντα ἐπὶ 
+τὴν χώρην δέξασθαι. 
+
+140. Πέμψαντες γὰρ οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι ἐς Δελφοὺς 
+443 
+
+
+BOOK VII, 139-140 
+
+
+true. Had the Athenians been panic-struck by 
+the threatened peril and left their own country, or 
+had they not indeed left it but remained and sur- 
+rendered themselves to Xerxes, none would have 
+essayed to withstand the king by sea. If, then, no 
+man had withstood him by sea, I will show what 
+would have happened by land: though the Pelo- 
+ponnesians had built not one but many walls across 
+the Isthmus for their armour,! yet the Lacedaemon-: 
+ians would have been deserted by their allies (these 
+having no choice or free will in the matter, but see- 
+ing their citiés taken one by one by the foreign fleet), 
+till at last they would have stood alone; and so 
+standing they would have fought a great fight and 
+nobly perished. Such would have been their fate ; 
+or it may be that, when they saw the rest of Hellas 
+siding with the enemy, they would have made terms 
+with Xerxes; and thus either way Hellas would 
+have been subdued by the Persians. For I cannot 
+perceive what advantage could accrue from the walls 
+built across the isthmus, while the king was master 
+of the seas. But as it is, to say that the Athenians 
+were the saviours of Hellas is to hit the truth. For 
+which part soever they took, that way the balance was 
+like to incline; and by choosing that Hellas should 
+remain free they and none others roused all the rest 
+of the Greeks who had not gone over to the Persians, 
+and did under heaven beat the king off. Nor were 
+they moved to desert Hellas by the threatening 
+oracles that came from Delphi and sorely dismayed 
+them, but they stood firm and were bold to abide 
+the invader of their country. 
+
+140. For the Athenians had sent messages to 
+
+
+1 ΟΡ. I. 181, where the wall of Babylon is called a θώρηξ. 
+443 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+θεοπρόπους χρηστηριάξεσθαι ἧσαν ἕτοιμοι καί 
+σφι ποιήσασι περὶ τὸ ἱρὸν τὰ νομιζόμενα, ὡς ἐς 
+τὸ μέγαρον ἐσελθόντες ἵζοντο, χρᾷ ἡ Πυθίη, τῇ 
+αμα ἦν JVABIO OPERI τάδε. 
+ὦ μέλεοι, τί κάθησθε; λιπὼν Hedy ἔσχατα 
+γαίης 
+δώματα καὶ πόλιος τροχοειδέος ἄ ἄκρα κάρηνα. 
+οὔτε γὰρ ἡ κεφαλὴ μένει ἔμπεδον οὔτε τὸ σῶμα, 
+οὔτε πόδε: νέατοι οὔτ᾽ ὧν χέρες, οὔτε τι μέσσης 
+λείπεται, ἀλλ᾽ ἄζηλα πέλει: κατὰ γάρ μιν 
+ἐρείπει 
+πῦρ τε καὶ ὀξὺς "Άρης, Συριηγενὲς ἅ ἅρμα | διώκων. 
+πολλὰ δὲ KAAN ἀπολεῖ πυργώματα κοὐ τὸ σὸν 
+οἷον, 
+πολλοὺς δ᾽ ἀθανάτων νηοὺς μαλερῷ πυρὶ δώσει, 
+οἵ που νῦν ἱδρῶτι ῥ ῥεούμενοι ἑστήκασι, 
+δείματι παλλόμενοι, κατὰ Ò φερρτάτους ὀρό- 
+
+
+f! - 
+
+
+φοισι US 
+αἷμα μέλαν κέχυται, προϊδὸν κακότητος 
+ἀνάγκας. 
+4 ^ > 
+ἀλλ᾽ ἴτον ἐξ ἀδύτοιο, κακοῖς ὃ ἐπικίδνᾳτε 
+θυμὸν. . αι τν ο Ov 
+
+
+141. Ταῦτα ἀκούσαντες οἱ τῶν ᾿Αθηναίων θεο- 
+πρόποι συμφορῇ τῇ μεγίστῃ ἐχρέωντο. προβάλ.- 
+λουσι δὲ σφέας αὐτοὺς ὑπὸ τοῦ κακοῦ τοῦ 
+κεχρησμένου, Τίμων o ᾿Ανδροθούλου, τῶν Δελφῶν 
+ἀνὴρ δόκιμος ὅ ὅμοια τῷ μάλιστα, συνεβούλευέ σφι 
+ἱκετηρίην λαβοῦσι δεύτερα αὖτις ἐλθόντας χρᾶσθαι 
+τῷ χρηστηρίῳ ὡς ἱκέτας. πειθομένοισι δὲ ταῦτα 
+
+
+1 Lit. spread courage over your evils. But most com- 
+mentators translate ‘‘ steep your souls in woe,” 
+
+
+444 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 140-141 
+
+
+Delphi and asked that an oracle be given them ; and 
+when they had performed all due rites at the temple 
+and sat them down in the inner hall, the priestess, 
+whose name was Aristonice, gave them this answer: 
+
+
+Wretches, why tarry ye thus? Nay, flee from your 
+houses and city, 
+
+Flee to the ends of the earth from the circle em- 
+battled of Athens! 
+
+Body and head are alike, nor one is stable nor 
+other, 
+
+Hands and feet wax faint, and whatso lieth 
+between them 
+
+Wasteth in darkness and gloom; for flame 
+destroyeth the city, 
+
+Flame and the War-god fierce, swift driver of Syrian 
+horses, 
+
+Many a fortress too, not thine alone, shall he 
+shatter ; 
+
+Many a shrine of the gods he'll give to the flame 
+for devouring ; 
+
+Sweating for fear they stand, and quaking for dread 
+of the foeman, 
+
+Running with gore are their roofs, foreseeing the 
+stress of their sorrow ; 
+
+Wherefore I bid you begone! Have courage to 
+lighten your evil.! 
+
+
+141. When the Athenian messengers heard that, 
+they were very greatly dismayed, and gave themselves 
+up for lost by reason of the evil foretold. Then Timon 
+son of Androbulus, as notable a man as any Delphian, 
+counselled them to take boughs of supplication, and 
+to go once again and in that guise enquire of the 
+
+
+445 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τοῖσι ᾿Αθηναίοισι. καὶ λέγουσι “Ὧναξ, χρῆσον . 
+x . 
+
+
+e a y , \ ^ $^ 25 6 ` M 
+ἡμῖν ἄμεινόν τι περὶ τῆς πατρίϑος, αἰδεσθεὶς τὰς 
+e / ΄ / € / À Ρ 
+ἱκετηρίας τάσδε τάς τοι ἥκομεν φέροντες, ἢ ob 
+τοι ἄπιμεν ἐκ τοῦ ἁδύτόυ, ἀλλ᾽ αὐτοῦ τῇδε 
+/ v 5 A \ , » ^ δὲ 
+μενέομεν ἔστ᾽ ἂν καὶ τελευτήσωμεν,, ταῦτα δὲ 
+/ ec / ^ / / 
+λέγουσι ἡ πρόμαντις χρᾷ δεύτερα τάδε. 
+
+κ iU αλά ; 
+ov δύναται Παλλὰς Ac ONETO ἐξιλάσασθαι 
+λισσομένη πολλοῖσι λόγοις καὶ urit * TUI. 
+Hes 7 
+
+σοὶ δὲ τόδ᾽ αὖτις ἔπος ἐρέω ἀδάμαντι πελάσσας. 
+τῶν ἄλλων γὰρ ἁλισκομένων ὅσα Κέκροπος 
+οὖρος 
+
+
+a 
+, 
+
+
+ἐντὸς ἔχει κευθµών τε Κιθαιρῶνος ζαθέοιο, 
+τεῖχος Τριτογενεῖ ξύλινον διδοῖ evouama Ζεύς. 
+
+
+μοῦνον ἀπόρθητον τελέθειν, τὸ σὲ τέκνα T 
+iuda 
+
+
+μηδὲ σύ y ἱπποσύνην τε μένειν καὶ πε ov ἰόντα 
+
+
+πολλὸν aT “ἠπείρου στρατὸν ἥσυχος, ἀλλ. 
+ὑποχωρεῖν 
+
+
+^ 3 / y , , / y 
+νῶτον ἐπιστρέψας' ἔτι τοί ποτε κἀντίος ἔσσῃ. 
+4 - ^ / ` O A 
+ὦ θείη Σαλαμίς, ἀπολεῖς δὲ σὺ τέκνα γυναικῶν 
+
+
+jj που σκιδναμένης Δημήτερος ἢ συνιούσης. 
+
+
+142. Ταῦτά σφι ἠπιώτερα γὰρ τῶν προτέρων 
+καὶ ἦν καὶ ἐδόκεε εἶναι, συγγραψάµενοι ἁπαλλάσ- 
+446 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 141-142 
+
+
+oracle. Thus the Athenians did; “ Lord,” they 
+said, “regard in thy mercy these suppliant boughs 
+which we bring to thee, and give us some better 
+answer concerning our country; else we will not de- 
+part out of thy temple, but abide here till we die."' 
+Thereupon the priestess gave them this second 
+oracle: 
+
+
+Vainly doth Pallàs strive to appease great Zeus of 
+Olympus; 
+
+Words of entreaty are vain, and cunning counsels 
+of wisdom. 
+
+Nathless a rede I will give thee again, of strength 
+adamantine. 
+
+All shall be taken and lost that the sacred border 
+of Cecrops . 
+
+Holds in keeping to-day, and the dales divine of 
+Cithaeron ; 
+
+Yet shall a wood-built wall by Zeus all-seeing be 
+granted 
+
+Unto the Trito-born, a stronghold for thee and thy 
+children. 
+
+Bide not still in thy place for the host that cometh 
+
+. from landward, 
+
+Cometh with horsemen and foot; but rather with- 
+draw at his coming, 
+
+Turning thy back to the foe; thou yet shalt meet 
+him in battle. 
+
+Salamis, isle divine! ‘tis writ that children of 
+women 
+
+Thou shalt destroy one day, in the season of seed- 
+time or harvest. 
+
+
+142. This being in truth and appearance a more 
+merciful answer than the first, they wrote it down 
+
+
+441 ` 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+σοντο ἐς τὰς ᾿Αθήνας. ὡς δὲ ἀπελθόντες οἱ 
+θεοπρόποι ἀπήγγελλον ἐς τὸν δῆμον, γνῶμαι καὶ 
+ἄλλαι πολλαὶ γίνονται διζηµένων τὸ μαντήιον 
+καὶ aide συνεστηκυῖαι μάλιστα. τῶν πρεσβυ- 
+τέρων ἔλεγον μετεξέτεροι δοκέειν σφίσι τὸν θεὸν 
+/ ^ 
+τὴν ἀκρόπολιν χρῆσαι περιέσεσβαι. ἡ γὰρ ἀκρό- . 
+\ / aA 2 / vam RAMS y TE COO 
+πολις τὸ πάλαι τῶν Αθηναίων ῥηχῷ ἐπέφρακτὸ. 
+ot μὲν δὴ κατὰ τὸν φραγμὸν συνεβάλλοντο 
+τοῦτο τὸ ξύλινον τεῖχος εἶναι, ot δ᾽ αὖ ἔλεγον, τὰς. 
+νέας σημαίνειν τὸν θεόν, καὶ ταύτας παραρτέξσθαί 
+/ V oy a CK Cet .. 9 \ \ / 
+ἐκέλευον τὰ ἄλλα ἀπέντας. τοὺς ὧν δὴ τὰς νέας 
+/ 9 ` " ^ yt: NU \ ΄ 
+λέγοντας εἶναι τὸ ξύλινον τεῖχος ἔσφαλλε τὰ δύο 
+τὰ τελευταῖα ῥηθέντα ὑπὸ τῆς Πυθίης, 
+
+
+ὦ θείη Σαλαμίς, ἀπολεῖς δὲ σὺ τέκνα γυναικῶν 
+ἤ που σκιδναμένης Δημήτερος ἢ συνιούσης. 
+
+
+κατὰ ταῦτα τὰ ἔπεα συνεχέοντο αἱ γνῶμαι τῶν 
+φαμένων τὰς νέας τὸ ξύλινον τεῖχος εἶναι' οἱ γὰρ 
+ρησμολόγοι ταύτη ταῦτα ἐλάμβανον, ὡς ἀμφὶ 
+αλαμῖνα δεῖ σφεας ἑσσωθῆναι ναυμαχίην παρα- 
+σκευασαμένους. 
+
+148. Ἦν δὲ τῶν τις ᾿Αθηναίων ἀνὴρ ἐς πρώτους 
+νεωστὶ παριών, τῷ οὔνομα μὲν ἦν Θεμιστοκλέης, 
+παῖς δὲ Νεοκλέος ἐκαλέετο. οὗτος ὠνὴρ οὐκ ἔφη 
+πᾶν ὀρθῶς τοὺς χρησμολόγους συμβάλλεσθαι, 
+λέγων τοιάδε' εἰ ἐς ᾿Αθηναίους εἶχε τὸ ἔπος 
+εἰρημένον ἐόντως, οὐκ ἂν οὕτω μιν δοκέειν ἠπίως 
+χρησθῆναι, ἀλλὰ ὧδε “ ὦ σχετλίη Σαλαμίς ” ἀντὶ 
+τοῦ '' ὦ θείη Σαλαμέίς,᾽ εἴ πέρ γε ἔμελλον οἱ oich- 
+τορες ἀμφ᾽ αὐτῇ τελευτήσειν' ἀλλὰ γὰρ ἐς τοὺς 
+πολεμίους τῷ θεῷ εἰρῆσθαι τὸ χρηστήριον 
+448 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 142—143 
+
+
+and departed back to Athens. So when the mes- 
+sengers had left Delphi and laid the oracle before 
+the people, there was much enquiry concerning its 
+meaning, and there were two contrary opinions in 
+especial 4mong the many that were uttered. Some 
+of the elder men said that the god's answer signified 
+that the acropolis should be saved; for in old time 
+the acropolis of Athens had been fenced by a thorn 
+hedge, and by their interpretation it was this fence 
+that was the wooden wall. But others supposed 
+that the god signified their ships, and they were for 
+doing nought else but equip these. They then that 
+held their ships to be the wooden wall were disabled 
+by the two last verses of the priestess answer: 
+
+
+Salamis, isle divine! 'tis writ that children of 
+women 
+
+Thou shalt destroy one day, in the season of seed- 
+'time or harvest. 
+
+
+These verses confounded the opinion of those who 
+said that their ships were the wooden wall; for the 
+readers of oracles took the verses to mean, that they 
+should offer battle by sea near Salamis and be there 
+overthrown. 
+
+143. Now there was a certain Athenian, by name 
+and title Themistocles son of Neocles, who had lately 
+risen to be among their chief men. He said, that 
+the readers of oracles had not rightly interpreted 
+the whole; and this was his plea: had the verse 
+been verily spoken of the Athenians, the oracle had 
+used a word less mild of import, and had called 
+Salamis rather “cruel” than “ divine,” if indeed the 
+dwellers in that place were in it and for it to perish ; 
+nay (said he), rightly understood, the god’s oracle 
+
+
+449 
+VOL. Ill, GG 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+συλλαμβάνοντι κατὰ τὸ ὀρθόν, ἀλλ) οὐκ ἐς 'Άθη- 
+ναίους' παρασκευάξεσθαι ὦ ὧν αὐτοὺς ὡς vavpa ή- 
+σοντας συνεβούλευε, ὡς τούτου ἐόντος τοῦ ξυλίνου 
+τείχεος. ταύτῃ Θεμιστοκλέος ἀποφαινομένου 
+᾿Αθηναῖοι ταῦτα σφίσι ἔ ἔγνωσαν αἱρετώτερα εἶναι 
+μᾶλλον ἢ τὰ τῶν χρησμολόγων, οἳ οὐκ ἔων ναυ- 
+μαχίην ἀρτέεσθαι, τὸ δὲ σύμπαν εἰπεῖν οὐδὲ 
+χεῖρας ἀνταείρεσθαι, ἀλλὰ ἐκλιπόντας χώρην τὴν 
+᾿Αττικὴν ἄλλην τινὰ οἰκίζειν. 
+
+144. Ἑτέρη τε Θεμιστοκλέι γνώμη ἔμπροσθε 
+ταύτης ἐς καιρον ἠρίστευσε, ὅτε ᾿Αθηναίοισι γενο- 
+μένων χρημάτων μεγάλων ἐν τῷ κοινῷ, τὰ ἐκ τῶν 
+μετάλλων σφι προσῆλθε τῶν ἀπὸ Λαυρείου, 
+ἔμελλον λάξεσθαι ὀρχηδὸν ἕ ἕκαστος δέκα δραχμάς: 
+τότε Θεμιστοκλέης ἀνέγνωσε ᾿Αθηναίους τῆς 
+διαιρέσιος ταύτης παυσαμένους νέας τούτων τῶν 
+χρημάτων ποιήσασθαι διηκοσίας ἐς τὸν πόλεμον, 
+τὸν προς Αἰγινήτας λέγων. οὗτος γὰρ ὁ πόλεμος 
+συστὰς ἔσωσε ἐς τὸ τότε τὴν Ελλάδα, d ἀναγκάσας 
+θαλασσίους γενέσθαι ᾿Αθηναίους. αἳ δὲ ἐς τὸ 
+μὲν ἐποιήθησαν οὐκ ἐχρήσθησαν, ἐ ἐς δέον δὲ οὕτω 
+τῇ Ελλάδι ἐγένοντο. αὗταί τε δὴ αἱ νέες τοῖσι 
+᾿Αθηναίοισι προποιηθεῖσαι ὑπῆρχον, ἑτέρας τε 
+ἔδεε προσναυπηγέεσθαι. ἔδοξέ τέ σφι μετὰ τὸ 
+χρηστήριον βουλευομένοισι ἐπιόντα ἐπὶ τὴν 
+“Ελλάδα τὸν βάρβαρον δέκεσθαι τῆσι νηυσὶ παν- 
+δημεί, τῷ θεῷ πειθομένους, ἅμα Ἑλλήνων τοῖσι 
+βουλομένοισι. 
+
+
+1 Silver, lead, and perhaps copper mines in Attica, from 
+which the state drew an annual revenue. Apparently when 
+this exceeded the usual amount the general public received 
+a largess. Even if the population numbered 30,000 (cp. V. 
+
+
+450 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 143-144 
+
+
+was spoken not of the Athenians but of their enemies ; 
+and his counsel was that they should believe their 
+ships to be the wooden wall, and so make ready to 
+fight by sea. Themistocles thus declaring, the 
+Athenians judged him to be a better counsellor than 
+the readers of oracles, who would have had them 
+prepare for no sea fight, and in brief offer no resist- 
+ance at all, but leave Attica and settle in some other 
+country. 
+
+144. Themistocles had ere this given another 
+eounsel that seasonably prevailed. The revenues 
+from the mines at Laurium! had brought great 
+wealth into the Athenians' treasury, and when they 
+were to receive each man ten drachmae for his share, 
+then Themistocles persuaded the Athenians to make 
+no such division, but out of the money to build two 
+hundred ships for the war, that is, for the war with 
+Aegina ; it was that war whereof the outbreak then 
+saved Hellas, by compelling the Athenians to be- 
+come seamen. The ships were not used for the 
+purpose wherefor they were built, but it was thus 
+that they came to serve Hellas in her need. These 
+ships, then, had been made and were already there 
+for the Athenians' service, and now they must build 
+yet others besides; and in their debate after the 
+giving of the oracle they resolved, that they would 
+put their ‘trust in heaven and meet the foreign 
+invader of Hellas with the whole power of their 
+fleet, ships and men, and with all other Greeks that 
+were so minded. 
+
+
+97) ten drachmae per head would be only 50 talents; far too 
+small a sum for the building of 200 ships ; Herodotus cannot 
+mean more than that the Laurium money was a contribution 
+towards a ship-building fund. 
+
+
+451 
+Ga 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+145. Τὰ μὲν δὴ χρηστήρια ταῦτα τοῖσι ᾿Αθη. 
+ναΐοισι ἐγεγόνεε. συλλεγομένων δὲ ἐς τὠυτὸ τῶν 
+περὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα Ἑλλήνων τῶν τὰ ἀμείνω 
+φρονεόντων καὶ διδόντων σφίσι λόγον καὶ πίστιν, 
+ἐνθαῦτα ἐδόκεε βουλευομένοισι αὐτοῖσι πρῶτον 
+μὲν χρημάτων πάντων καταλλάσσεσθαι τάς τε 
+ἔχθρας καὶ τοὺς κατ᾽ ἀλλήλους ἐόντας πολέμους: 
+ἦσαν. δὲ πρὸς τινὰς καὶ ἄλλους ἐγκεκρημένοι;᾽ 0 δὲ 
+ὧν μέγιστος ᾿Αθηναίοισί τε καὶ Αἰγινήτῃσι. μετὰ 
+δὲ πυνθανόμενοι Ἐέρξην σὺν τῷ στρατῷ εἶναι ἐν 
+Σάρδισι, ἐβουλεύσαντο κατασκόπους πέμπειν ἐς 
+τὴν ᾿Ασίην τῶν βασιλέος πρηγμάτων, ἐς Αργος 
+τε ἀγγέλους ὁμαιχμίην συνθησομένους πρὸς τὸν 
+Πέρσην, καὶ ἐς Σικελίην ἄλλους πέμπειν παρὰ 
+Γέλωνα τὸν Δεινομένεος ἔς τε Κέρκυραν κελεύ- 
+σοντας βοηθέειν τῇ Ἑλλάδι καὶ ἐς Κρήτην ἄλλους, 
+φρονήσαντες εἴ κως ἕν τε γένοιτο τὸ Ἑλληνικὸν 
+καὶ εἰ συγκύψαντες τὠυτὸ πρήσσοιεν πάντες, ὡς 
+εινῶν ἐπιόντων ὁμοίως πᾶσι Ἕλλησι. τὰ δὲ 
+Γέλωνος πρήγματα μεγάλα ἐλέγετο εἶναι, οὐδαμῶν 
+Ἑλληνικῶν τῶν οὗ πολλὸν μέξω. 
+
+146. Ὡς δὲ ταῦτά σφι ἔδοξε,. καταλυσάμενοι 
+τὰς ἔχθρας πρῶτα μὲν κατασκόπους πέμπουσι 
+ἐς τὴν Asiy ἄνδρας τρεῖς. οἳ δὲ ἀπικόμενοί τε 
+ἐς Σάρδις καὶ καταμαθόντες τὴν βασιλέος στρα- 
+τιήν, ὡς ἐπάιστοι ἐγένοντο, βασανισθέντες ὑπὸ 
+τῶν στρατηγῶν τοῦ πεζοῦ στρατοῦ ἀπήγοντο ὡς 
+ἀπολεόμενοι. καὶ τοῖσι μὲν κατεκέκριτο θάνατος, 
+Ξέρξης δὲ ὡς ἐπύθετο ταῦτα, μεμφθεὶς τῶν 
+στρατηγῶν τὴν γνώμην πέμπει τῶν τινας δορυ- 
+φόρων, ἐντειλάμενος, ἣν καταλάβωσι τοὺς κατα- 
+σκόπους ξῶντας, ἄγειν παρ᾽ ἑωυτόν. ὡς δὲ ἔτι 
+453 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 145-146 
+
+
+145. These oracles, then, had been given to the 
+Athenians. All the Greeks that had the better 
+purpose for Hellas now assembling themselves to- 
+gether and there taking counsel and plighting faith, 
+they resolved in debate to make an end of all their 
+feuds and their wars against each other, from what- 
+ever cause arising; and among others that were 
+afoot the greatest was the war between the Athenians 
+and the Aeginetans. Presently, learning that Xerxes 
+was at Sardis with his army, they planned to send 
+men into Asia to spy out the king’s doings, and to 
+despatch messengers, some to Argos, who should 
+make the Argives their brothers in arms against the 
+Persian, some to Gelon son of Dinomenes in Sicily, 
+some to Corcyra, praying aid for:Hellas, and some 
+to Crete; for they hoped that since the danger 
+threatened all Greeks alike, all of Greek blood 
+might unite and work jointly for one common end. 
+Now the power of Gelon was said to be very great, 
+surpassing by far any power in Hellas. 
+
+146. Being so resolved, and having composed 
+their quarrels, they first sent three men as spies into 
+Asia. These came to Sardis, and took note of the 
+king’s army; but they were discovered, and after 
+examination by the generals of the land army they 
+were led away for execution. So they were con- 
+demned to die; but when Xerxes heard of it he 
+blamed the judgment of his generals, and sent some 
+of his guards, charging them if they found the 
+spies alive to bring them before him. They were 
+
+
+1 From ἐγκεράννυμι; Reiske’s conjecture for MS. ἐγκεχρη- 
+µένοι Which Stein prints, admitting the difficulty of inter- 
+preting it. 
+
+
+453 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+περιεόντας αὐτοὺς κατέλαβον καὶ ἦγον ἐς ὄψιν 
+τὴν βασιλέος, τὸ ἐνθεῦτεν πυθόμενος ἐπ᾽ οἷσι 
+ἦλθον, ἐκέλευε σφέας τοὺς δορυφόρους περιάγοντας 
+ἐπιδείκνυσθαι πάντα τε τὸν πεζὸν στρατὸν καὶ 
+τὴν ἵππον, ἐπεὰν δὲ ταῦτα θηεύμενοι ἔ ἔωσι πλήρεες, 
+ἀποπέμπειν ἐς τὴν ἂν αὐτοὶ ἐθέλωσι χώρην 
+ἀσινέας. 
+
+147. ᾿Επιλέγων δὲ τὸν λόγον τόνδε ταῦτα ève- 
+τέλλετο, ὡς εἰ μὲν ἀπώλοντο οἱ κατάσκοποι, οὔτ᾽ 
+ἂν τὰ ἑωυτοῦ πρήγματα προεπύθοντο οἱ "Ελληνες 
+ἐόντα λόγου μέζω, οὔτ᾽ ἄν τι τοὺς πολεμίους μέγα 
+ἐσίναντο, ἄνδρας τρεῖς ἀπολέσαντες' νοστησάντων 
+δὲ τούτων ἐς τὴν Ἑλλάδα δοκέειν ἔφη ἀκούσαντας 
+τοὺς "Ελληνας τὰ ἑωυτοῦ πρήγματα πρὸ τοῦ 
+στόλου τοῦ γινομένου παραδώσειν σφέας τὴν ἰδίην 
+ἐλευθερίην, καὶ οὕτω οὐδὲ δεήσειν ἐπ] αὐτοὺς 
+στρατηλατέοντας πρήγματα ἔχειν. oixe δὲ αὐτοῦ 
+αὕτη ἡ γνώμη τῇ γε ἄλλῃ. ἐὼν γὰρ ἐν ᾿Αβύδῳ ὁ 
+Ξέρξης εἶδε πλοῖα ἐκ τοῦ Πόντου σιταγωγὰ 
+διεκπλώοντα τὸν Ἑλλήσποντον, ἔς τε Αἴγιναν 
+καὶ Πελοπόννησον κομιξόμενα. οἱ μὲν δὴ πάρεδροι 
+αὐτοῦ ὡς ἐπύθοντο πολέμια εἶναι τὰ πλοῖα, 
+ἕτοιμοι ἦσαν αἱρέειν αὐτά, ἐσβλέποντες ἐς τὸν 
+βασιλέα. ὁκότε παραγγελέει. ὁ δὲ Ἑέρξης εἴρετο 
+αὐτοὺς ὅκῃ πλέοιεν' ot δὲ εἶπαν “' Ἐς τοὺς σοὺς 
+πολεμίους, ὦ δέσποτα, σῖτον ayovtes. ὃ δὲ 
+ὑπολαβὼν ἔφη “Οὐκῶν καὶ ἡμεῖς ἐκεῖ πλέομεν 
+ἔνθα περ οὗτοι, τοῖσί τε ἄλλοισι -ἐξηρτυμένοι καὶ 
+σίτῳ; τί δῆτα ἀδικέουσι οὗτοι ἡμῖν σιτία παρα- 
+ο Coles" 
+
+148. Οἱ μέν νυν κατάσκοποι οὕτω θεησάµενοί 
+τε καὶ ἀποπεμφθέντες ἐνόστησαν ἐς τὴν Εὐρώπην, 
+454 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 146-148 
+
+
+found stil living and brought into the king's 
+presence; then Xerxes, having enquired of them 
+the purpose of their coming, bade his guards lead 
+them about and show them all his army, horse and 
+foot; and when the spies should have seen all to 
+their hearts’ content, send them away unharmed 
+whithersoever they would go. 
+
+147. The reason alleged for his command was 
+. this: had the spies been put to death, the Greeks 
+would not so soon have learnt the unspeakable 
+greatness of his power, and the Persians would have 
+done their enemy no great harm by putting three 
+men to death; “but if they return to Hellas,” said 
+he, “methinks when the Greeks hear of my power 
+they will before the expedition surrender this 
+peculiar freedom that they have, and so we need 
+not be at pains to march against them.” This was 
+like that other saying of Xerxes’, when he was at 
+Abydos and saw ships laden with corn sailing out of 
+the Pontus through the Hellespont, voyaging to 
+Aegina and the Peloponnese. They that sat by him, 
+perceiving that they were enemy ships, were for 
+taking them, and looked to the king for him to give 
+the word. But Xerxes asked them whither the 
+ships were sailing; “to your enemies, Sire," said 
+they, “carrying corn." Whereto Xerxes answered, 
+* And are not we too sailing to the same places as 
+they, with corn among all our other provisions? 
+What wrong are they doing us in carrying food 
+thither?” 
+
+148. So the spies were sent back after they had 
+thus seen all, and returned to Europe. They of the 
+
+
+455 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οἱ δὲ συνωμόται “Ἑλλήνων ἐπὶ τῷ Πέρσῃ μετὰ 
+τὴν ἀπόπεμψιν τῶν κατασκόπων δεύτερα ἔ ἔπεμπον 
+és "Άργος ἀγγέλους. ᾿Αργεῖοι δὲ λέγουσι τὰ Kar’ 
+ἑωυτοὺς γενέσθαι ὧδε. πυθέσθαι γὰρ αὐτίκα κατ᾽ 
+ἀρχὰς τὰ ἐκ τοῦ βαρβάρου ἐγειρόμενα. ἐπὶ τὴν 
+Ἑλλάδα, πυθόμενοι δέ, καὶ μαθόντες ὡς σφέας 
+οἱ Ἕλληνες πειρήσονται παραλαμβάνοντες ἐπὶ 
+τὸν Πέρσην, πέμψαι θεοπρόπους ἐς Δελφοὺς τὸν 
+θεὸν ἐπειρησομένους ὥς ope μέλλει ἄριστον 
+ποιέουσι γενέσθαι" νεωστὶ γὰρ σφέων τεθνάναι 
+ἑξακισχιλίους ù ὑπὸ Λακεδαιμονίων καὶ Κλεομένεος 
+τοῦ ᾿Λναξανδρίδεω' τῶν δὴ. εἵνεκα πέμπειν. τὴν 
+δὲ Πυθίην ἐπειρωτῶσι αὐτοῖσι ἀνελεῖν τάδε. 
+
+
+ἐχθρὲ περικτιόνεσσι, φίλ᾽ ἀθανάτοισι θεοῖσιν, 
+
+εἴσω τὸν προβόλαιον ἔ ἔχων πεφυλαγμένος ἦσο 
+
+καὶ κεφαλὴν πεφύλαξο' κάρη δὲ τὸ σῶμα 
+σαώσει. 
+
+
+ταῦτα μὲν τὴν Πυθίην χρῆσαι πρότερον’ μετὰ δὲ 
+ὡς ἐλθεῖν τοὺς ἀγγέλους ἐς δὴ τὸ Ἄργος, ἐπελθεῖν 
+ἐπὶ τὸ βουλευτήριον καὶ λέγειν τὰ ἐντεταλμένα. 
+τοὺς δὲ π ὃς τὰ λεγόμενα ὑποκρίνασθαι ὡς ἔτου- 
+por εἰσὶ Αργεῖοι ποιέειν ταῦτα, τριήκοντα ἔτεα 
+εἰρήνην σπεισάμενοι Λακεδαιμονίοισι καὶ ἡγεό- 
+μενοι κατὰ τὸ ἥμισυ πάσης τῆς συμμαχίης. 
+καίτοι κατά γε τὸ δίκαιον γίνεσθαι τὴν ἡγεμονίην 
+ἑωυτῶν" ἀλλ᾽ ὅμως σφίσι ἀποχρᾶν κατὰ τὸ ἥμισυ 
+
+
+ἡγεομένοισι. 
+149. Ταῦτα μὲν λέγουσι τὴν βουλὴν ὑποκρίνα- 
+
+
+1 [n the battle of Tiryns, 494: cp. VI. 77. 
+2 That is, those with full citizenship, the nucleus of the 
+population ; σῶμα being the remainder. 
+
+
+456 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 148-149 
+
+
+Greeks who had sworn alliance against the Persian 
+next after sending the spies sent messengers to 
+Argos. Now this is what the Argives say of their 
+own part in the matter:—They were informed from 
+the first that the foreigner was stirring up war 
+against Hellas; knowing this, when they learnt 
+that the Greeks would essay to gain their aid against 
+the Persian, they sent (they say) messengers to 
+Delphi, there to enquire of the god how it were 
+best for themselves that they should act; for six 
+thousand of them had been lately! slain by a Lace- 
+daemonian army and Cleomenes son of Anaxandrides 
+its general; for this cause, they said, the messengers 
+were sent. The Driestees gave this answer to their 
+questioning : 
+
+
+Hated of dwellers around, by the god's immortal 
+belovéd, 
+
+Crouch with a lance in rest, NE a warrior fenced in 
+his armour, 
+
+Guarding thy head ? from the blow: and the head 
+shall shelter the body. 
+
+
+This answer had already been uttered by the 
+priestess; and presently the messengers came to 
+Argos, and there appeared in the council chamber 
+and spoke as they were charged. Then the Argives 
+(this is their story) answered to what was said, that 
+they would do as was asked of them if they might 
+first make a thirty years' peace with Lacedaemon, 
+and the command of half the allied power were 
+theirs; they would be content with half, albeit if 
+they had their rights they should have commanded 
+the whole. 
+
+149. This, they say, was the answer of their 
+
+
+457 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+σθαι, καίπερ ἀπαγορεύοντός σφι τοῦ χρηστηρίου 
+μὴ ποιέεσθαι τὴν πρὸς τοὺς "Ελληνας συμμαχίην" 
+σπουδὴν δὲ ἔ ἔχειν σπονδὰς γενέσθαι τριηκοντοέ- 
+τιδας .καΐπερ τὸ χρηστήριον φοβεόμενοι, í iva δή 
+σφι ol παῖδες ἀνδρωθέωσι ἐ ἐν τούτοισι τοῖσι ἔτεσι' 
+µη δὲ σπονδέων ἐουσέων ἐπιλέγεσθαι, ἦν ἄρα 
+σφέας καταλάβῃ πρὸς τῷ γεγονότι κακῷ ἆλλο 
+πταῖσμα πρὸς τὸν Πέρσην, μὴ τὸ λοιπὸν ἔωσι 
+Λακεδαιμονίων ὑπήκοοι. τῶν δὲ ἀγγέλων τοὺς 
+ἀπὸ τῆς Σπάρτης πρὸς τὰ ῥηθέντα ἐκ τῆς Βουλῆς 
+| ἀμείψασθαι τοῖσιδε" περὶ μὲν σπονδέων ἀνοίσειν 
+ἐς τοὺς πλεῦνας, περὶ δὲ ἡγεμονίης αὐτοῖσι évre- 
+τἆλθαι ὑποκρίνασθαι, καὶ δὴ λέγειν, σφίσι. μὲν 
+εἶναι δύο βασιλέας, ᾿Αργείοισι δὲ ἕνα: οὔκων 
+δυνατὸν εἶναι τῶν ἐκ. Σπάρτης οὐδέτερον παῦσαι 
+τῆς ἡγεμονίης, μετὰ δὲ δύο τῶν σφετέρων ὁμόψη- 
+φον τὸν ᾿Αρηεῖον | εἶναι κωλύειν οὐδέν. οὕτω δὴ 
+οἱ ᾿Αργεῖοι φασὶ οὐκ ἀνασχέσθαι τῶν Σπαρτιητέων 
+τὴν πλεονεξίην, ἀλλ᾽ ἑλέσθαι μᾶλλον ὑπὸ τῶν 
+Βαρβάρων ἄρχεσθαι 1j ἢ τι ὑπεῖξαι Λακεδαιμονίοισι, 
+προειπεῖν τε τοῖσι ἀγγέλοισι πρὸ δύντος ἡλίου 
+ἀπαλλάσσεσθαι € ἐκ τῆς ᾿Αργείων χώρης, εἰ δὲ μή, 
+περιέψεσθαι ὡς πολεμίους. 
+
+150. Αὐτοὶ μὲν ᾿Αργεῖοι τοσαῦτα τούτων πέρι 
+λέγουσι: ἔστι δὲ ἄλλος λόγος λεγόμενος. ἀνὰ τὴν 
+Ἑλλάδα, ὡς Ξέρξης ἔπεμψε κήρυκα ἐς "Άργος 
+πρότερον ἤ περ ὁρμῆσαι στρατεύεσθαι ἐπὶ τὴν 
+Ἑλλάδα: ἐλθόντα δὲ τοῦτον λέγεται εἰπεῖν 
+"Ανδρες ᾿Αργεῖοι, βασιλεὺς Ξέρξης τάδε ὑμῖν 
+λέγει. ἡμεῖς νομίζομεν Πέρσην εἶναι ἀπ᾽ οὗ ἡμεῖς 
+γεγόναμεν παῖδα Περσέος τοῦ Δανάης, γεγονότα 
+ἐκ τῆς Κηφέος θυγατρὸς ᾿Ανδρομέδης. οὕτω ἂν 
+
+
+458 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 149-150 
+
+
+council, although the oracle forbade them to make 
+the alliance with the Greeks; and though they 
+feared the oracle, yet they were instant that a 
+thirty years’ treaty might be made, that so their 
+children might have time in those years to grow 
+to be men; were there no such treaty,—so, by their 
+account they reasoned,—then, if after the evil that 
+had befallen them the Persian should deal them 
+yet another wound, it was to be feared that they 
+would be at the Lacedaemonians' mercy. Then 
+those of the envoys that were Spartans replied to 
+what was said by the council, * That the matter of 
+a treaty would be brought before their general 
+assembly; but as touching the command, they 
+themselves had been commissioned to answer, and 
+to say, that the Spartans had two kings, and the 
+Argives but one ; now it was impossible to deprive 
+either Spartan of his command; but there was 
+nought to hinder the Argive from having the same 
+right of voting as their two had.” At that, —say the 
+Argives,—they deemed that the Spartans' covetous- 
+ness was past all bearing, and that it was better 
+to be ruled by the foreigners than give way to the 
+Lacedaemonians; and they bade the envoys depart 
+from the land of Argos before sunset, else they 
+would be entreated as enemies. 
+
+150. Such is the Argives’ account of this matter ; 
+but there is another story told ir Hellas: That 
+before Xerxes set forth on his march against Hellas, 
+he sent a herald to Argos, who said on his coming 
+(so the story goes) “Men of Argos, this is the 
+message to you of king Xerxes. Perses our fore- 
+father had, as we believe, Perseus son of Danaé for 
+his father, and Andromeda daughter of Cepheus 
+
+
+459 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὧν εἴημεν ὑμέτεροι ἀπόγονοι. οὔτε ὧν ἡμέας οἰκὸς 
+ἐπὶ τοὺς ἡμετέρους προγόνους στρατεύεσθαι, οὔτε 
+ὑμέας ἄλλοισι τιμωρέοντας ἡμῖν ἀντιξόους γίνε- 
+σθαι, ἀλλὰ παρ᾽ ὑμῖν αὐτοῖσι ἡσυχίην ἔχοντας 
+κατῆσθαι. ἦν γὰρ ἐμοὶ γένηται κατὰ νόον, οὐ- 
+δα μοὺς μέξονας ὑμέων ἄξω.᾽ ταῦτα ἀκούσαντας 
+᾿Αργείους λέγεται πρῆγμα ποιήσασθαι, καὶ παρα- 
+χρῆμα μὲν οὐδὲν ἐπαγγελλομένους μεταιτέειν, 
+ἐπεὶ δὲ σφέας παραλαμβάνειν τοὺς Ἕλληνας, 
+οὕτω δὴ ἐπισταμένους ὅτι οὐ μεταδώσουσι τῆς 
+ἀρχῆς Λακεδαιμόνιοι μεταιτέειν, ἵνα ἐπὶ προφά- 
+ε 
+
+σιος ἡσυχίην ἄγωσι. 
+
+151. Συμπεσεῖν δὲ τούτοισι καὶ τόνδε τὸν λόγον 
+λέγουσι τινὲς. Ἑλλήνων πολλοῖσι ἔτεσι ὕστερον 
+γενόμενον. τούτων. τυχεῖν ἐν Σούσοισι τοῖσι 
+Μεμνονίοισι ἐόντας ἑτέρου πρήγματος εἵνεκα 
+ἀγγέλους ᾿Αθηναίων Καλλίην τε τὸν Ἱππονίκου 
+καὶ τοὺς μετὰ τούτου ἀναβάντας, ᾿Αργείους δὲ 
+τὸν αὐτὸν τοῦτον χρόνον πέμψαντας καὶ τούτους 
+ἐς Σοῦσα ἀγγέλους. εἰρωτᾶν ᾿Αρτοξέρξεα τὸν 
+Ἐέρξεω εἴ σφι ἔτι ἐμμένει ἐθέλουσι τὴν πρὸς 
+Ξέρξην (λίην συνεκεράσαντο, ἢ νομιξοίατο πρὸς 
+αὐτοῦ εἶναι πολέμιοι" βασιλέα δὲ ᾿Αρτοξέρξεα 
+μάλιστα ἐμμένειν φάναι, καὶ οὐδεμίαν νομίξειν 
+πόλιν Ἄργεος φιλιωτέρην. 
+
+152. Ei n νυν Ἐλέρξης τε ἀπέπεμψε, ταῦτα 
+λέγοντα κήρυκα ἐς Αργος καὶ ᾿Αργείων ἄγγελοι 
+ἀναβάντες ἐ ἐς Σοῦσα ἐπειρώτων ᾿Αρτοξέρξεα περὶ 
+pins, οὐκ ἔχω ἀτρεκέως εἰπεῖν, οὐδέ τινα γνώμην 
+περὶ αὐτῶν πο ανομαι ἄλλην γε ἢ τήν περ 
+
+
+1 ΟΡ. V. 53. 
+46ο 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 150-152 
+
+
+for his mother ; if that be so, then we are descended 
+from your nation. Wherefore in all right and reason 
+neither should we march against the land of our 
+forefathers, nor should you become our enemies by 
+aiding others, nor do aught but abide by yourselves 
+in peace ; for if all go as I desire, I will hold none 
+in higher esteem than you." Hearing this, the 
+Argives were thereby much moved; and though 
+for the nonce they made no promise and demanded 
+no share, yet when the Greeks strove to gain their 
+aid, then, knowing that the Lacedaemonians would 
+not grant it, they did demand a part of the com- 
+mand, that so they might have a pretext for abiding 
+at peace. 
+
+151. This is borne out (say some Greeks) by the 
+tale of α΄ thing which happened many years after- 
+wards. It chanced that while Athenian envoys, 
+Callias son of Hipponicus, and the rest who had 
+come up with him, were at Susa, called the Mem- 
+nonian,! about some other business,? the Argives also 
+had at this same time sent envoys to Susa, asking 
+of Xerxes’ son Artoxerxes “if the friendship which 
+they had compounded with Xerxes still held good, 
+as they desired; or did he consider them as his 
+enemies?" Whereto Artoxerxes answered, “Αγ 
+indeed it holds good, and I deem no city a better 
+friend to me than Argos." | 
+
+152. Now, if it be true that Xerxes sent a herald 
+with the aforesaid message to Argos, and that the 
+Argive envoys came up to Susa. and questioned 
+Artoxerxes about their friendship, 1 cannot with 
+exactness say; nor do I now declare that I hold 
+
+
+* In 448, apparently. See How and Wells ad loc. for a 
+full discussion of the matter. 
+
+
+461 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+αὐτοὶ ᾿Αργεῖοι λέγουσι ἐπίσταμαι δὲ τοσοῦτο 
+ὅτι εἰ πάντες ἄνθρωποι τὰ οἰκήια κακὰ ἐς μέσον 
+συνενείκαιεν ἀλλάξασθαι βουλόμενοι τοῖσι πλη- 
+σίοισι, ἐγκύψαντες ἂν ἐς τὰ τῶν πέλας κακὰ 
+ἀσπασίως ἕκαστοι αὐτῶν ἀποφεροίατο ὀπίσω τὰ 
+ἐσενεικαίατο. οὕτω δὲ οὐδ᾽ ᾿Αργείοισι αἴσχιστα 
+πεποίηται. ἐγὼ δὲ ὀφείλω λέγειν τὰ λεγόμενα, 
+πείθεσθαί γε μὲν ov παντάπασι ὀφείλω, καί μοι 
+τοῦτο τὸ ἔπος ἐχέτω ἐς πάντα. λόγον: ἐπεὶ καὶ 
+ταῦτα λέγεται, ὡς ἄρα ᾿Αργεῖοι ἡ ἦσαν οἱ ἐπικαλε- 
+σάμενοι τὸν Πέρσην ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα, ἐπειδή σφι 
+πρὸς τοὺς Λακεδαιμονίους κακῶς ἡ αἰχμὴ ἑστήκεε, 
+πᾶν δὴ Βουλόμενοι σφίσι εἶναι πρὸ τῆς παρεούσης 
+λύπης. 
+
+153, Τὰ μὲν περὶ ᾿Αργείων εἴρηται" ἐς δὲ τὴν 
+Σικελίην ἄλλοι τε ἀπίκατο ἄγγελοι ἀπὸ τῶν 
+συμμάχων συμμίξοντες Γέλωνι καὶ δὴ καὶ ἀπὸ 
+Λακεδαιμονίων ύαγρος. τοῦ δὲ Γέλωνος τούτου 
+πρόγονος, οἰκήτωρ ὁ ἐν Γέλῃ, ἡ ἦν ἐκ νήσου Τήλου 
+τῆς ἐπὶ Τριοπίῳ κειμένης" ὃς κτιξομένης Γέλης 
+ὑπὸ Λινδίων τε τῶν ἐκ “Ῥόδου καὶ ᾿Αντιφήμου 
+οὐκ .ἐλείφθη. ἀνὰ χρόνον δὲ αὐτοῦ οἱ ἀπόγονοι 
+γενόμενοι ἱροφάνται τῶν χθονίων θεῶν διετέλεον 
+ἐόντες, Τηλίνεω ἑνός τευ τῶν προγόνων κτησα- 
+μένου τρόπῳ τοιῷδε. ἐς Μακτώριον πόλιν τὴν 
+ὑπὲρ Γέλης οἰκημένην ἔφυγον , ἄνδρες Γελῴων 
+στάσι ἑσσωθέντες" τούτους ὧν ὁ Τηλίνης κατή- 
+yarye ἐς Γέλην, ἔχων οὐδεμίαν ἀνδρῶν δύναμιν 
+
+
+1 The general idea, —rather obscurely expressed,— seems 
+to be that some who judge the Argives harshly have really 
+just as many κακὰ and αἰσχρὰ (which Herodotus appears to 
+confuse) of their own. 
+
+
+462 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 152-153 
+
+
+aught for truth but what the Argives themselves 
+say. But this I know full well, —if all men should 
+carry their own private troubles to market for barter 
+with their neighbours, not one but when he had 
+looked into the troubles of other men would be 
+right glad to carry home again what he had brought.! 
+Thus judging, you shall see that others did yet more 
+foully than the Argives. For myself, though it be 
+my business to set down that which is told me, 
+to believe it is none at all of my business; let that 
+saying hold good for the whole of my history; for 
+indeed there is another tale current, whereby it 
+would seem that it was the Argives who invited 
+the Persian into Hellas, because after the breaking 
+of their battle by the Lacedaemonians there was 
+nothing that they would rather not have than their 
+present distresses. 
+
+153. Thus ends the story of the Argives. As for 
+Sicily, envoys were sent thither by the allies to hold 
+converse with Gelon, Syagrus from Lacedaemon 
+being among them. This Gelon’s ancestor, he who 
+made a settlement at Gela, was of the island of 
+Telos that lies off Triopium ; he, when the founding 
+of Gela by Antiphemus and the Lindians of Rhodes 
+was afoot, would not be left behind. His posterity 
+became in time ministering priests of the goddesses 
+of the nether world? and continued so to be; this 
+office had been won as I shall show by Telines, one 
+of their forefathers. Certain Geloans, worsted in 
+party strife, having been banished to the town of 
+Mactorium, inland of Gela, Telines brought them 
+back to Gela, with no force of men to aid him but 
+
+
+2 Demeter and Persephone. 
+
+
+463 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἀλλὰ ἱρὰ τούτων τῶν θεῶν' ὅθεν. δὲ αὐτὰ ἔλαβε ἡ 
+αὐτὸς ἐκτήσατο, τοῦτο δὲ οὐκ ἔχω εἰπεῖν" τού- 
+τοισι δ᾽ ὧν πίσυνος ἐὼν κατήγαγε, ἐπ᾽ ᾧ τε οἱ 
+ἀπόγονοι αὐτοῦ ἱροφάνται τῶν θεῶν ἔσονται. 
+θῶμά μοι ὧν καὶ τοῦτο γέγονε πρὸς τὰ πυνθάνο- 
+μαι, κατεργάσασθαι Τηλίνην ἔ ἔργον τοσοῦτον" τὰ 
+τοιαῦτα γὰρ ἔργα οὐ πρὸς. τοῦ ἅπαντος ἀνδρὸς 
+νενόμικα γίνεσθαι, ἀλλὰ πρὸς ψυχῆς τε ἀγαθῆς 
+καὶ ῥώμης ἀνδρηίης' ὃ δὲ λέγεται πρὸς τῆς Σικε- 
+Mns τῶν οἰκητόρων τὰ ὑπεναντία τούτων πεφυ- 
+κέναι θηλυδρίης τε καὶ μαλακώτερος ἀνὴρ. 
+
+154. Οὗτος μέν νυν ἐκτήσατο τοῦτο τὸ γέρας" 
+Κλεάνδρου δὲ τοῦ Iavrápeos τελευτήσαντος τὸν 
+βίον, ὃ ὃς ἐτυράννευσε μὲν Γέλης ἑπτὰ ἔτεα, ἀπέθανε 
+δὲ ὑπὸ ò Σαβύλλου ἀνδρὸς Γελῴου, ἐνθαῦτα ἀναλαμ- 
+βάνει τὴν μουναρχίην. Ἱπποκράτης Κλεάνδρου € ἐὼν 
+ἀδελφεός. ἔχοντος δὲ" Ιπποκράτεος τὴν τυραννίδα, 
+ὁ Γέλων ἐ ἐὼν Τηλίνεω τοῦ ἱροφάντεω ἆ ἀπόγονος, TON- 
+λῶν μετ᾽ ἄλλων καὶ Αἰνησιδήμου τοῦ Παταίκου } 
+oee ὃς ἦν δορυφόρος Ἱπποκράτεος. μετὰ δὲ οὐ 
+πολλὸν «Χρόνον δι ἀρετὴν ἀπεδέχθη πάσης τῆς 
+ἵππου εἶναι ἵππαρχος" πολιορκέοντος γὰρ. Ἵππο- 
+κράτεος Καλλιπολίτας τε καὶ Ναξίους καὶ Zay- 
+κλαίους τε καὶ Λεοντίνους καὶ πρὸς Συρηκοσίους 
+τε καὶ τῶν βαρβάρων συχνούς, ἀνὴρ ἐφαίνετο ἐν 
+τούτοισι τοῖσι πολέμοισι ἐὼν ὁ Γέλων λαμπρό- 
+τατος. τῶν δὲ εἶπον πολίων τουτέων πλὴν 
+Συρηκουσέων οὐδεμία διέφυγε δουλοσύνην πρὸς 
+Ἱπποκράτεος" Συρηκοσίους δὲ Κορίνθιοί τε καὶ 
+Κερκυραῖοι ἐρρύσαντο μάχη ἑσσωθέντας ἐπὶ 
+ποταμῷ ᾿Ελώρῳ, ἐρρύσαντο δὲ οὗτοι ἐπὶ τοῖσιδε 
+καταλλάξαντες, ἐπ᾽ ᾧ τε Ἱπποκράτεϊ Καμάριναν 
+
+
+464 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 153-154 
+
+
+only the holy instruments of the goddesses’ worship. 
+Whence he got these, and whether or no they were 
+of his own discovering, I cannot say ; however that 
+be, it was in their strength that he restored the 
+exiles, on the condition that his posterity should be 
+ministering priests of the goddesses. Now the story 
+that is told me makes me marvel that Telines should 
+have achieved such a feat; for I have ever supposed 
+that such feats are not for every man’s performing 
+but only such as have a stout heart and a manly 
+strength ; but Telines is reported by the dwellers 
+in Sicily to have been contrariwise of a soft and 
+womanish habit. 
+
+154. So he won this right ; and at the decease ! of 
+Cleandrus son of Pantares,—who was for seven years 
+despot of Gela, and was slain by a man of that 
+city named Sabyllus,—the sovereignty passed to 
+Cleandrus' brother Hippocrates. While Hippocrates 
+was despot, Gelon, a descendant of the ministering 
+priest Telines, was one of Hippocrates' guard, as 
+were Aenesidemus son of Pataecus and many others; 
+and in no long time he was appointed for his worth 
+to be captain of all the horse; for Hippocrates 
+besieging Callipolis and Naxos and Zancle and 
+Leontini, nay, Syracuse too and many of the 
+foreigners’ towns, Gelon in those wars shone pré- 
+eminent. None ofthe cities aforesaid escaped being 
+enslaved by Hippocrates save only Syracuse; the 
+Syracusans were defeated in battle on the river 
+Elorus, but were rescued by the Corinthians and 
+Corcyraeans, who made a peace for them on the 
+
+
+1 [n 498. 
+1 Something is omitted after this word; Stein suggests 
+
+
+υἱέος. 
+465 
+VOL, III. HH 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Συρηκοσίους παραδοῦναι. Συρηκοσίων δὲ ἣν 
+Καμάρινα τὸ ἀρχαῖον. 
+
+155. Ὡς δὲ καὶ Ιπποκράτεα τυραννεύσαντα ἴσα 
+ἔτεα τῷ ἀδελφεῷ Κλεάνδρῳ κατέλαβε ἀποθανεῖν 
+πρὸς πόλι' Ύβλῃ στρατευσάμενον ἐπὶ τοὺς Σικε- 
+λούς, οὕτω δὴ ὁ Γέλων τῷ λόγῳ τιμωρέων τοῖσι 
+Ἱπποκράτεος παισὶ Εὐκλείδῃ τε καὶ Κλεάνδρῳ, 
+οὐ βουλομένων τῶν πολιητέων κατηκόων ἔτι εἶναι, 
+τῷ ἔργῳ, ὡς ἐπεκράτησε μάχῃ τῶν Γελῴων, ἦρχε 
+αὐτὸς ἀποστερήσας, τοὺς Ἱπποκράτεος παῖδας. 
+μετὰ δὲ τοῦτο τὸ εὕρημα. τοὺς γαμόρους καλεο- 
+μένους τῶν Συρηκοσίων ἐκπεσόντας ὑπό τε τοῦ 
+δήμου καὶ τῶν σφετέρων δούλων, καλεομένων δὲ 
+Κυλλυρίων, ὁ Γέλων καταγαγὼν τούτους ἐκ 
+Κασμένης πόλιος ἐς τὰς Συρηκούσας ἔσχε καὶ 
+ταύτας" ὁ γὰρ δῆμος ὁ τῶν Συρηκοσίων ἐπιόντι 
+Γέλωνι παραδιδοῖ τὴν πόλιν καὶ ἑωυτόν. 
+
+156. Ὃ δὲ ἐπείτε παρέλαβε τὰς Συρηκούσας, 
+Γέλης μὲν ἐπικρατέων λόγον ἐλάσσω ἐποιέετο, 
+ἐπιτρέψας αὐτὴν “Ἱέρωνι ἀδελφεῷ, ἑωυτοῦ, ὃ δὲ 
+τὰς Συρηκούσας ἐκράτυνε, καὶ σάν οἱ πάντα αἱ 
+Συρήκουσαι: at δὲ παραυτίκα ἀνά T ἔδραμον καὶ 
+ἔβλαστον. τοῦτο μὲν γὰρ Καμαριναίους ἅ ἅπαντας 
+ἐς τὰς Συρηκούσας ἀγαγὼν πολιήτας ἐποίησε, 
+Καμαρίνης δὲ τὸ ἄστυ κατέσκαψε, ταῦτο δὲ 
+Γελῴων ὑπερημίσεας τῶν ἀστῶν τὠυτὸ τοῖσι 
+Καμαριναίοισι ἐποίησε: Μεγαρέας τε τοὺς ἐν 
+Σικελίῃ, ὡς πολιορκεύμενοι ἐς ὁμολογίην προσε- 
+χώρησαν, τοὺς μὲν αὐτῶν παχέας, ἀειραμένους τε 
+πόλεμον αὐτῷ καὶ προσδοκῶντας ἀπολέεσθαι διὰ 
+τοῦτο, ἀγαγὼν ἐς τὰς Συρηκούσας πολιήτας 
+ἐποίησε" τὸν δὲ δῆμον τῶν Μεγαρέων οὐκ ἐόντα 
+466 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 154-156 
+
+
+condition that the Syracusans should deliver up to 
+Hippocrates Camarina, which was formerly theirs. 
+
+155. When Hippocrates, too, after reigning the 
+same number of years as his brother Cleandrus, 
+came to his end near the town of Hybla, whither he 
+had marched against the Sicels, then Gelon made a 
+pretence of serving the cause of Hippocrates’ sons 
+Euclides and Cleandrus, whose rule the citizens 
+would no longer bear; but in very deed, when he 
+had defeated the men of Gela, he deposed the sons 
+of Hippocrates and held sway himself. After this 
+stroke of good fortune, the Syracusan landowners 
+(as they were called) being driven into banishment 
+by the commonalty and their own slaves (Cyllyrians, 
+as they were called), Gelon brought them back 
+from the town of Casmena to Syracuse, and took 
+possession of that city also; for the Syracusan 
+commonalty delivered themselves and it to Gelon 
+at his coming. 
+
+156. Having taken Syracuse for his own, he made 
+less account of his rule over Gela, which he gave in 
+charge to his brother Hiero; over Syracuse he 
+reigned, and all his care was for Syracuse, Straight- 
+way that city grew and waxed great; for not only 
+did Gelon bring all the people of Camarina to 
+Syracuse and give them its citizenship, razing the 
+town of Camarina, but he did likewise to more 
+than half of the townsmen of Gela; and when the 
+Megarians! in Sicily surrendered to him on terms 
+after a siege, he took the wealthier of them, who 
+had made war on him and looked to be put to death 
+therefor, and brought them to Syracuse to be 
+citizens there ; but as for the commonalty of Megara, 
+
+
+! At Hybla, N. of Syracuse, on the E. coast of Sicily. 
+
+
+467 
+HH 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μεταίτιον τοῦ πολέμου τούτου οὐδὲ προσδεκό- 
+μενον κακὸν οὐδὲν πείσεσθαι, ἀγαγὼν καὶ τούτους 
+ἐς τὰς Συρηκούσας ἀπέδοτο ἐπ᾽ ἐξαγωγῆ ἐκ 
+Σικελίης. τὠυτὸ δὲ τοῦτο καὶ Εὐβοέας τοὺς ἐν 
+Σικελίῃ ἐποίησε διακρίνας. ἐποίεε δὲ ταῦτα 
+τούτους ἀμφοτέρους νομίσας δῆμον εἶναι συνοί- 
+κήµα ἀχαριτώτατον. 
+
+157. Towvro μὲν τρόπῳ τύραννος ἐγεγόνεε 
+μέγας ὁ Γέλων: τότε δ ὡς οἱ ἄγγελοι τῶν Ἑλλή: 
+νων ἀπίκατο ἐς τὰς Συρηκούσας, ἐλθόντες αὐτῷ 
+ἐς λόγους ἔλεγον τάδε. s Ἔπεμψαν ἡ ἡμέας Λακε- 
+δαιμόνιοι καὶ οἱ τούτων σύμμαχοι παραλαμψο- 
+μένους σε πρὸς τὸν βάρβαρον" τὸν γὰρ ἐπιόντα 
+ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα πάντως κου πυνθάνεαι, ὅτι 
+Πέρσης ἀνὴρ μέλλει, ξεύξας τὸν Ἑλλήσποντον 
+καὶ ἐπάγων πάντα τὸν H@ov στρατὸν ἐκ τῆς 
+᾿Ασίης, στρατηλατήσειν ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα, προ- 
+σχηµα uev ποιεύμενος ὡς em ᾿Αθήνας ἐλαύνει, 
+ἐν νόῳ δὲ ἔχων πᾶσαν τὴν Ἑλλάδα ὑπ᾽ ἑωυτῷ 
+ποιήσασθαι. σὺ δὲ δυνάμιός τε yàp. ἥκεις μεγά- 
+λως καὶ μοῖρά τοι τῆς Ἑλλάδος οὐκ ἐλαχίστη 
+μέτα ἄρχοντί γε Σικελίης, Αοήθεέ τε τοῖσι 
+ἐλευθεροῦσι τὴν Ἑλλάδα καὶ συνελευθέρου. ἁλὴς 
+μὲν γὰρ γενομένη πᾶσα ἡ 'Ελλὰς χεὶρ μεγάλη 
+συνάγεται, καὶ ἀξιόμαχοι γινόμεθα τοῖσι ἐπιοῦσι: 
+ἦν δὲ οἳ μὲν ἡμέων καταπροδιδῶσι οἳ δὲ μὴ θέλωσι 
+τιμωρέειν, τὸ δὲ Ù ὑγιαῖνον τῆς Ἑλλάδος 5j 7 ὀλίγον, 
+τοῦτο δὲ ἤδη δεινὸν γίνεται μὴ πέσῃ πᾶσα ἡ 
+Ἑλλάς. μὴ γὰρ ἐλπίσῃς, ἦν ἡμέας καταστρέ- 
+ψηται ὁ Πέρσης μάχῃ κρατήσας, ὡς οὐκὶ ἥξει 
+παρὰ σέ γε, ἀλλὰ πρὸ τούτου φύλαξαι". βοηθέων 
+γὰρ ἡμῖν σεωυτῷ τιμωρέεις. τῷ δὲ εὖ βουλευ- 
+468 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 156-157 
+
+
+who had had no hand in the making of that war and 
+expected that no harm would be done them, these too 
+he brought to Syracuse and sold them for slaves to 
+be carried out of Sicily. In like fashion he dealt 
+with the Euboeans! of Sicily, making the same 
+difference; the cause of his so doing to the people 
+of both places was, that he held the commonalty to 
+be an exceeding thankless crew to live withal. 
+
+157. By these means Gelon had grown to great- 
+ness as a despot; and now, when the Greek envoys 
+were come to Syracuse, they had audience of him 
+and spoke as follows. “The Lacedaemonians and 
+their allies," said they, * have sent us to win your 
+aid against the foreigner ; for it cannot be, we think, 
+that you have no knowledge of the Persian invader 
+of Hellas, how he purposes to bridge the Hellespont 
+and lead all the hosts of the east from Asia against us, 
+making an open show of marching against Athens, but 
+in very deed with intent to subdue all Hellas to his 
+wil. Now you are rich in power, and being lord of 
+Sicily you rule thereby what is not the least part of 
+Hellas; wherefore, we pray you, send help to them 
+that would free Hellas, and aid them in so doing. 
+For the uniting of all of Greek stock is the muster- 
+ing of a mighty host, able to meet our invaders in 
+the field; but if some of us play false, and others 
+will not come to our aid, and the sound part of 
+Hellas be but small, then it is to be feared that all 
+Greek lands alike will be undone. Think not that 
+if the Persian defeat us in battle and subdue us, he 
+` will leave you unassailed ; but look well to yourself 
+ere that day come. Aid us, and you champion your 
+
+
+1 A colony from Chalcis, at Leontini. 
+
+
+469 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+θέντι πρήγματι τελευτὴ ὡς τὸ ἐπίπαν χρηστὴ 
+ἐθέλει ἐπιγίνεσθαι." 
+
+158. Ot μὲν ταῦτα ἔλεγον, Γέλων δὲ πολλὸς 
+ἐνέκειτο λέγων τοιάδε. ‘ “"Ανδρες" Ἕλληνες, λόγον 
+ἔχοντες πλεονέκτην ἐτολμήσατε ἐμὲ σύμμαχον 
+ἐπὶ τὸν βάρβαρον παρακαλέοντες ἐλθεῖν: αὐτοὶ 
+δὲ ἐμεῦ πρότερον δεηθέντος βαρβαρικοῦ στρατοῦ 
+συνεπάψασθαι, ὃ ὅτε µοι πρὸς Καρχηδονίους νεῖκος 
+συνῆπτο, ἐπισκήπτοντός τε τὸν Δωριέος τοῦ 
+᾿Αναξανδρίδεω πρὸς ᾿Εγεσταίων φόνον ἐκπρή- 
+ξασθαι, ὑποτείνοντός τε τὰ ἐμπόρια συνελευ- 
+θεροῦν͵ an ὧν ὑμῖν μεγάλαι ὠφελίαι τε καὶ 
+ἐπαυρήσιες γεγόνασι, οὔτε ἐμεῦ εἵνεκα ἤλθετε 
+βοηθήσοντες οὔτε τὸν Δωριέος φόνον. ἐκπρηξόμε- 
+νοι, TO τε KAT ὑμέας τάδε ἅπαντα ὑπὸ βαρβά- 
+ροισι νέμεται. ἀλλὰ εὖ γὰρ ἡμῖν καὶ ἐπὶ τὸ 
+ἄμεινον κατέστη. νῦν δὲ ἐπειδὴ περιελήλυθε ὁ 
+πόλεμος καὶ ἀπῖκται ἐς ὑμέας, οὕτω δὴ Γ έλωνος 
+μνῆστις γέγονε. -ἀτιμίης δὲ πρὸς ὑμέων κυρήσας 
+οὐκ ὁμοιώσομαι ἱ ὑμῖν, ἀλλ᾽ ἕτοιμος εἰ μὶ βοηθέειν 
+παρεχόμενος διηκοσίας τε τριήρεας καὶ δισµυ- 
+ρίους ὁπλίτας καὶ δισχιλίην ἵππον καὶ δισχιλίους 
+τοξότας καὶ δισχιλίους σφενδονήτας καὶ δισχι- 
+λίους ἱπποδρόμους. ψιλούς" σῖτόν τε ἁπάσῃ τῇ 
+“Ελλήνων στρατιῇ, ἔστ᾽ ἂν διαπολεμήσωμεν, 
+ὑποδέκομαι παρέξειν. ἐπὶ δὲ λόγῳ τοιῷδε τάδε 
+ὑπίσχομαι, ἐπ᾽ ᾧ στρατηγός τε καὶ ἡγεμὼν, τῶν 
+“Ελλήνων € ἔσομαι πρὸς τὸν βάρβαρον. ἐπ᾿ ἄλλῳ 
+δὲ λόγῳ οὔτ᾽ ἂν αὐτὸς ἔλθοιμι οὔτ᾽ ἂν ἄλλους 
+
+
+πέμψαιμι.᾽ 
+
+
+t The Carthaginians were as influential in the west of the 
+island as Gelo in the east; Greeks and Semites continually 
+competed for commercial supremacy. 
+
+
+470 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 157-158 
+
+
+own cause; a well-laid plan commonly leads to a 
+happy issue." 
+
+158. Thus they spoke; whereto Gelon answered, 
+speaking very vehemently, * Men of Hellas, it is 
+with a self-seeking plea that you have made bold to 
+come hither and invite me to be your ally against 
+the foreigners; yet what of yourselves? When I 
+was at feud with the Carchedonians,! and prayed you 
+to stand my comrades against a foreign army, and 
+when I was instant that you should avenge the 
+slaying of Dorieus ? son of Anaxandrides by the men 
+of Egesta, and when I promised to free those trading 
+ports whence great advantage and profit have accrued 
+to you,—then neither for my sake would you come 
+to aid nor to avenge the slaying of Dorieus; and 
+for all that you did, all these lands lie beneath the 
+foreigners' feet. Let that be; for all ended well, 
+and our state was bettered. But now that the war 
+has come round to you in your turn, 'tis the time 
+for remembering Gelo! Yet albeit you so slighted 
+me, I will not take example by you; I am ready to 
+send to your aid two hundred triremes, twenty 
+thousand men-at-arms, two thousand horse, two 
+thousand archers, two thousand slingers, and two 
+thousand light-armed men to run with horsemen ;? 
+and l undertake that I will furnish provision for the 
+whole Greek army till we have made an end of the 
+war. But I thus promise on this one condition, 
+that I shall be general and leader of the Greeks 
+against the foreigner. On no other condition will 
+I come myself or send others." 
+
+
+` ? (p. V. 42-46. 
+* Probably active infantry troops, able to keep up with 
+the cavalry. 
+
+
+471 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+139. Ταῦτα ἀκούσας οὔτε ἠνέσχετο ὁ Σύαγρος 
+εἶπέ τε τάδε. “`H κε μέγ᾽ οἰμώξειε ὁ ὁ Πελοπίδης 
+᾿Αγαμέμνων πυθόμενος Σπαρτιήτας τὴν ἡγεμονίην 
+ἀπαραιρῆσθαι ὑπὸ Γέλωνός τε καὶ Συρηκοσίων. 
+ἀλλὰ τούτου μὲν τοῦ λόγου μηκέτι μνησθῇς, ὅ οκως 
+τὴν ἡγεμονίην τοι παραδώσομεν, ἀλλ᾽ εἰ μὲν βού- 
+λεαι βοήθέειν τῇ “Ελλάδι, ἴσθι ἀρξόμενος ὑπὸ 
+Λακεδαιμονίων" εἰ ὃ dpa μὴ δικαιοῖς ἄρχεσθαι, 
+σὺ δὲ μηδὲ βοήθεε.” 
+
+160. Πρὸς ταῦτα ὁ Γέλων, ἐπειδὴ ὥρα áme- 
+στραμμένους τοὺς λόγους τοῦ Συάγρου, τὸν 
+τελευταῖόν σφι τόνδε ἐξέφαινε λόγον. “ Ὦ ξεῖνε 
+Σπαρτιῆτα, ὀνείδεα κατιόντα ἀνθρώπῳ φιλέει 
+ἐπανάγειν τὸν θυμόν" σὺ μέντοι ἀποδεξάμενος 
+ὑβρίσματα ἐν τῷ λόγῳ οὔ με πείσεις ἀσχήμονα 
+ἐν τῇ ἀμοιβῇ γενέσθαι. ὅκου δὲ ὑμεῖς οὕτω 
+περιέχεσθε τῆς ἡγεμονίης, οἰκὸς καὶ ἐμὲ μᾶλλον 
+ὑμέων περιέχεσθαι, στρατιῆς τε ἐόντα πολλα- 
+πλησίης ἠγεμόνα καὶ νεῶν πολλὸν πλεύνων. 
+ἀλλ᾽ ἐπείτε ὑμῖν ὁ λόγος οὕτω προσάντης κατί- 
+σταται, mets TL ὑπείξομεν τοῦ ἀρχαίου λόγου: 
+εὖ τοῦ μὲν πεξοῦ ὑμεῖς ἡγέοισθς, τοῦ δὲ ναυτικοῦ 
+ἐγώ. εἰ δὲ 0 ὑμῖν ἡδονὴ τοῦ κατὰ θάλασσαν yE- 
+μονεύειν, τοῦ melon ἐγὼ θέλω. καὶ 7) τούτοισι 
+ὑμέας χρεὸν ἐστι ἀρέσκεσθαι ἢ ἀπιέναι συμμά- 
+χων τοιῶνδε ἐ ἐρήμους. 
+
+161. Γέλων μὲν δὴ ταῦτα προετείνετο, φθάσας 
+δὲ ὁ ᾿Αθηναίων ἄγγελος τὸν Λακεδαιμονίων ἀμεί- 
+Beré μιν τοῖσιδε. “ Ὦ βασιλεῦ Συρηκοσίων, οὐκ 
+ἡγεμόνος δεομένη ἡ j Ἑλλὰς ἀπέπεμψε ἡμέας πρὸς 
+σέ, ἀλλὰ στρατιῆς. σὺ δὲ ὅκως μὲν στρατιὴν 
+πέμψεις μὴ ἡγεύμενος τῆς “Ελλάδος οὐ προφαίνεις, 
+
+
+472 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 159-161 
+
+
+159. When Syagrus heard that, he could not con- 
+tain himself; “ Verily,” he cried, “loud would lament 
+Agamemnon son of Pelops, an he heard that the 
+Spartans had been bereft of their command by 
+Gelon and his Syracusans! Nay, put that thought 
+from you, that we will deliver up the command to 
+you. If it is your will to aid Hellas, know that you 
+must obey the Lacedaemonians; but if (as I think) 
+you are too proud to obey, then send no aid.” 
+
+160. Thereupon Gelon, seeing how unfriendly 
+were Syagrus’ words, thus and for the last time 
+declared his mind to them: “ My Spartan friend, 
+the hard words that a man hears are apt to arouse 
+his anger; but for all the arrogant tenor of your 
+speech you shall not move me to make an unseemly 
+answer. When you set such store by the command, 
+it is but reasonable that I should set yet more, 
+being the leader of an army many times greater 
+than yours and more ships by far. But seeing that 
+you answer me thus stiffly, we will abate somewhat 
+of our first condition. It might be, that you should 
+command the army, and J the fleet; or if it be your 
+pleasure to lead by sea, then I am willing that the 
+army should be mine. With that you must needs 
+be content, unless you would depart hence without 
+such allies as we are." 
+
+161. Such was Gelon's offer; and the Athenian 
+envoy answered him ere the Lacedaemonian could 
+speak. “King of the Syracusans,” said he, “ Hellas 
+sends us to you to ask not for a leader but for an 
+army; and you say no word of sending an army 
+save and except you can be the leader of Hellas; it 
+
+
+473 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὡς δὲ στρατηγήσεις αὐτῆς γλίχεαι. ὅσον μὲν 
+νυν παντὸς τοῦ "Ἑλλήνων στρατοῦ ἐδέεο ἡγέεσθαι, 
+ἐξήρκεε ἡμῖν τοῖσι ᾿Αθηναίοισι ἡσυχίην ἄγειν, 
+ἐπισταμένοισι ὡς ὁ Λάκων ἱκανός τοι ἔμελλε 
+ἔσεσθαι καὶ ὑπὲρ ἀμφοτέρων ἀπολογεύμενος' 
+ἐπείτε δὲ ἆ ἁπάσης ᾿ἀπελαυνόμενος δέεηι τῆς ναυτι- 
+κῆς ἄρχειν, οὕτω ἔχει TOL οὐδ᾽ jv ὁ Λάκων ἐπιῇ 
+τοι ἄρχειν αὐτῆς, ἡμεῖς ἐπήσομεν' ἡμετέρη γὰρ 
+ἐστὶ αὕτη γε, μὴ αὐτῶν βουλομένων Λακεδαιμο- 
+νίων. τούτοισι μὲν ὧν ἡγέεσθαι βουλομένοισι 
+οὐκ ἀντιτείνομεν, ἄλλῳ δὲ παρήσομεν οὐδενὶ 
+ναναρχέειν. μάτην yap av ade πάραλον Ἑλλή- 
+νων στρατὸν πλεῖστον εἴημεν ἐκτημένοι, εἰ Xvpn- 
+κοσίοισι ἐόντες ᾿Αθηναῖοι συγχωρήσομεν τῆς 
+ἡγεμονίης, -ἀρχαιότατον μὲν ἔθνος παρεχόμενοι, 
+μοῦνοι δὲ ἐόντες οὐ μετανάσται ' "Ελλήνων" τῶν 
+καὶ "Όμηρος ὁ ἐποποιὸς ἄνδρα ἄριστον ἔφησε ἐς 
+"Ἴλιον ἀπικέσθαι τάξαι τε καὶ διακοσμῆσαι στρα- 
+τόν. οὕτω οὐκ ὄνειδος οὐδὲν ἡμῖν ἐστι λέγειν 
+ταῦτα." 
+
+162. ᾽Αμείβετο Γέλων τοῖσιδε. “Ξεῖνε ᾿Αθηναῖε, 
+ὑμεῖς οἴκατε τοὺς μὲν ἄρχοντας ἔχειν, τοὺς δὲ 
+ἀρξομένους | οὐκ ἕξειν. ἐπεὶ τοίνυν οὐδὲν i ὑπιέντες 
+ἔχειν τὸ πᾶν ἐθέλετε, οὐκ ἂν φθάνοιτε τὴν ταχί- 
+στην ὀπίσω ἀπαλλασσόμενοι καὶ ἀγγέλλοντες τῇ 
+“Ελλάδι 6 ὅτι ἐκ τοῦ ἐνιαυτοῦ τὸ ἔαρ αὐτῇ ἐξαραί- 
+pura." οὗτος δὲ ὁ νόος τοῦ ῥήματος τὸ ἐθέλει 
+λέγειν' δῆλα γὰρ ὡς ἐν τῷ ἐνιαυτῷ ἐστὶ τὸ ἔαρ 
+δοκιμώτατον, τῆς δὲ τῶν “Ελλήνων στρατιῆς τὴν 
+ἑωυτοῦ στρατιήν: στερισκομένην ὧν τὴν Ελλάδα 
+
+
+1 Most Greek populations had traditionally immigrated 
+414 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 161-162 
+
+
+is for the command that all your desire is. Now 
+as long as you sought the leadership of the whole 
+armament, we Athenians were content to hold our 
+peace, knowing that the Laconian was well able to 
+answer for both of us; but since, failing to win the 
+whole, you would fain command the fleet, we would 
+have you know how the matter stands. Even 
+though the Laconian should suffer you to command 
+it, not so will we; for the command of the fleet is 
+ours, the Lacedaemonians desire it not for themselves. 
+If they desire to lead it, we withstand them not ; 
+but none other will we suffer to be admiral. For it 
+were vain that we should possess the greatest multi- 
+tude of sea-faring men in Hellas, if, being Athenians, 
+we yield up our command to Syracusans, —we who 
+can show of all the longest lineage, and who alone 
+among Greeks have never changed our dwelling 21 
+and whose he was of whom the poet Homer says, 
+that of all who came to Ilion he was the best man in 
+ordering and marshalling armies.? Thus we are not 
+to be reproached for this that we say." 
+
+162. * My Athenian friend," Gelon answered, “ it 
+would seem that you have many that lead, but none 
+that will follow. Since, then, you will waive no 
+claim but must have the whole, 'tis high time that 
+you depart home with all speed and tell your Hellas 
+that her year has lost its spring." Of which saying 
+this is the signification, that Gelon's army was the 
+most notable part of the Greek army, even as the 
+spring is of the year; so he compared Hellas 
+
+
+into their present localities from elsewhere ; but the Athen- 
+ians had no such tradition ; their writers often dwell on the 
+fact with pride. 
+
+2 Menestheus : Iliad ii. 552. 
+
+
+475 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τῆς ἑωυτοῦ συμμαχίης εἴκαξε ὡς εἰ τὸ ἔαρ ἐκ τοῦ 
+ἐνιαυτοῦ ἐξαραιρημένον εἴη. 
+
+163. Οἱ μὲν δὴ τῶν “Ελλήνων ἄγγελοι τοιαῦτα 
+
+^ ’ 4, > / / N 
+τῷ Γέλωνι χρηματισάμενοι ἀπέπλεον' Γέλων δὲ 
+πρὸς ταῦτα δείσας μὲν περὶ τοῖσι “Ελλησι μὴ οὐ 
+
+7 M 7 ε / ~ \ 
+δύνωνται τὸν βάρβαρον ὑπερβαλέσθαι, δεινὸν δὲ 
+
+. 
+καὶ οὐκ ἀνασχετὸν ποιησάμενος ἐλθὼν ἐς Ieo- 
+πόννησον ἄρχεσθαι ὑπὸ Λακεδαιμονίων ἐὼν Σικεὺ 
+
+ε ΄. 
+
+λίης τύραννος, ταύτην μὲν τὴν ὁδὸν ἠμέλησε, ὃ 
+δὲ ἄλλης εἴχετο. ἐπείτε γὰρ τάχιστα ἐπύθετο 
+τὸν Πέρσην διαβεβηκότα τὸν "Ελλήσποντον, 
+πέμπει πεντηκοντέροισι τρισὶ Κάδμον τὸν Σκύθεω 
+4 ^ , ΄ LÁ , 
+ἄνδρα Κῷον ἐς Δελφούς, ἔχοντα χρήματα πολλὰ 
+καὶ φιλίους λόγους, καραδοκήσοντα τὴν μάχην 
+τῇ πεσέεται, καὶ ἣν μὲν ὁ βάρβαρος νικᾶ, τά τε 
+χρήματα αὐτῷ διδόναι καὶ γῆν τε καὶ ὕδωρ τῶν 
+» e I a . ε ej , / 
+ἄρχει ὁ Γέλων, ἦν δὲ οἱ "Έλληνες, ὀπίσω 
+ἀπάγειν. 
+
+104. Ὁ δὲ Κάδαος οὗτος πρότερον τούτων 
+παραδεξάμενος παρὰ πατρὸς τυραννίδα Κῴων εὖ 
+βεβηκυῖαν, ἑκών τε εἶναι καὶ δεινοῦ ἐπιόντος 
+
+JÒ N , . ε A 1 ὃ ΄ , / ’ 
+οὐδενὸς ἀλλὰ ὑποὶ δικαιοσύνης ἐς μέσον Κῳοισι 
+καταθεὶς τὴν ἀρχὴν οἴχετο ἐς Σικελίην, ἔνθα 
+παρὰ Σαμίων ἔσχε τε καὶ κατοίκησε πόλιν 
+Ζάγκλην τὴν ἐς Μεσσήνην μεταβαλοῦσαν τὸ 
+y A . ε 4 N / . 
+οὔνομα. τοῦτον δὴ ὁ Γέλων τὸν Κάδμον καὶ 
+τοιούτῳ τρόπῳ ἀπικόμενον διὰ δικαιοσύνην, τήν οἱ 
+
+- ^ ^ 
+αὐτὸς ἄλλην συνῄδεε ἐοῦσαν, ἔπεμπε' ὃς ἐπὶ τοῖσι 
+ἄλλοισι δικαίοισι τοῖσι ἐξ ἑωυτοῦ ἐργασμένοισι 
+
+
+1 Stein reads ἀπό, with the MSS.; the Oxford text prints 
+ὑπό. There is no real warrant for ἀπὸ in the sense of ** on 
+account of." 
+
+
+476 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 162-164 
+
+
+deprived of alliance with him to a year bereft of its 
+spring. 
+
+163. After such trafficking with Gelon the Greek 
+envoys sailed away. But Gelon feared therefore 
+that the Greeks would not avail to overcome the 
+foreigner, yet deemed it a thing hard and intolerable 
+that he, the despot of Sicily, should go to the 
+Peloponnese to be at the beck and call of Lacedae- 
+monians; wherefore of this plan he thought no 
+more, but followed another instead. -As soon as he 
+was informed that the Persian had crossed the 
+Hellespont, he sent Cadmus son of Scythes,? a man 
+of Cos, to Delphi with three ships of fifty oars, 
+carrying with them money and messages of friend- 
+ship; Cadmus was to watch the event of the battle, 
+and if the foreigner should be victorious then to 
+give him the money, and earth and water withal on 
+behalf of Gelon's dominions; but if the Greeks, 
+then to carry all back again. 
+
+164. This Cadmus had ere now inherited from his 
+father the despotism of Cos; and albeit it was strong 
+and well stablished, yet of his own will and under 
+no constraint of danger, but of mere justice, he gave 
+over the government to the whole body of Coans 
+and betook himself to Sicily, where he was given by 
+the Samians that city of Zancle which changed its 
+name to Messene, and he planted a colony there. 
+Thus had Cadmus come, and it was he now whom 
+Gelon sent, by reason of the justice that he knew 
+to be ever in him ; and this that I will relate was 
+
+
+1 According to Aristotle (Rhet. i. 7 and iii. 10) Pericles 
+used the same simile in a funeral oration, referring to the 
+State's loss of its young men. 
+
+3 Probably the expelled ruler of Zancle ; cp. the following 
+chapter, and VI. 23. 
+
+
+411 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+καὶ τόδε οὐκ ἐλάχιστον τούτων ἐλίπετο. κρα- 
+
+Thoas yàp μεγάλων χρημάτων τῶν οἱ Γέλων 
+ἐπετράπετο, παρεὸν κατασχέσθαι οὐκ ἠθέλησε, 
+ἀλλ᾽ ἐπεὶ οἱ "Ἕλληνες ἐπεκράτησαν τῇ ναυμαχίῃ 
+καὶ Ξέρξης οἰχώκεε ἀπελαύνων, καὶ δὴ καὶ ἐκεῖνος 
+ἀπίκετο ἐς τὴν Σικελίην ἀπὸ πάντα τὰ χρήματα 
+ἄγων. 
+
+165, Λέγεται: δὲ καὶ τάδε ὑπὸ τῶν ἐν τῇ Σικελίῃ 
+οἰκημένων, ὡς ὅμως καὶ μέλλων ἄρχεσθαι ὑπὸ 
+Λακεδαιμονίων. ὁ Γέλων ἐβοήθησε ἂν τοῖσι 
+"Ἕλλησι, εἰ μὴ ὑπὸ Θήρωνος τοῦ Αἰνησιδήμου 
+᾿Ακραγαντίνων μουνάρχου ἐξελασθεὶς ἐξ Ἱμέρης 
+Τήριλλος ὁ 0 Κρινίππου τύραννος ἐὼν Ἱμέρης ἐπῆγε 
+ὑπ’ αὐτὸν τὸν χρόνον τοῦτον Φοινίκων καὶ Λιβύων 
+καὶ Ἰβήρων καὶ Λιγύων καὶ ᾿Ελισύκων καὶ Σαρδο- 
+νίων καὶ Κυρνίων τριήκοντα μυριάδας καὶ 
+στρατηγὸν αὐτῶν ᾿Αμίλκαν τὸν "Avvavos, Καρχη- 
+δονίων ἐ ἐόντα βασιλέα, κατὰ ξεινίην τε τὴν ἑωυτοῦ 
+ὁ Τήριλλος ἀναγνώσας καὶ μάλιστα διὰ τὴν 
+᾿Αναξίλεω τοῦ Κρητίνεω προθυμίην, ὃς Ῥηγίου 
+ἐὼν τύραννος τὰ ἑωυτοῦ τέκνα δοὺς ὁ ήρους 
+᾽Αμίλκα ἐπῆγε ἐπὶ τὴν Σικελίην τιµωρέων T 
+πενθερῷ: Τηρίλλου γὰρ εἶχε θυγατέρα Avati- 
+λεως, TH οὔνομα ἦν RM MA οὕτω δὴ οὐκ οἷόν 
+τε γενόμενον βοηθέειν τὸν Γέλωνα τοῖσι EANN 
+ἀποπέμπειν ἐς Δελφοὺς τὰ χρήματα. 
+
+166. Πρὸς δὲ καὶ τάδε λέγουσι, ὡς συνέβη τῆς 
+αὐτῆς ἡμέρης ἔν τε τῇ Σικελίῃ Γέλωνα καὶ 
+
+
+1 The Carthaginians invaded Sicily with a force drawn 
+from Africa and the western Mediterranean. The Ligyes 
+are Ligurians, the Cyrnians Corsicans; the Elisyci an Iberian 
+
+
+478 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 164-166 
+
+
+not the least of the many just acts of Cadmus’ life ; 
+he had in his power great sums entrusted to him by 
+Gelon, and might have kept them; yet he would 
+not so do, but when the Greeks had prevailed in the 
+sea-fight and Xerxes had betaken himself home- 
+ward, Cadmus for his part returned back to Sicily 
+with all that money. 
+
+165. But there is another story told by the 
+dwellers in Sicily: that even though he was to be 
+under Lacedaemonian authority Gelon would still 
+have aided the Greeks, had it not been for Terillus 
+son of Crinippus, the despot of Himera; who, being 
+expelled from Himera by Theron son of Aenesi- 
+demus, sovereign ruler of Acragas, did at this very 
+time bring against Gelon three hundred thousand 
+Phoenicians, Libyans, Iberians, Ligyes, Elisyci, 
+Sardinians, and Cyrnians,} led by Amilcas son of 
+Annon, the king of the Carchedonians; whom 
+Terillus won to this purpose partly by private 
+friendship, but chiefly by the zealous aid of Anaxilaus 
+son of Cretines, despot of Rhegium; he gave his 
+own children as hostages to Amilcas, and brought 
+him into Sicily to the help of his father-in-law ; for 
+Anaxilaus had to wife Terillus’ daughter Cydippe. 
+Thus it was (they say) that Gelon sent the money to 
+Delphi, because he could not aid the Greeks. 
+
+166. They add this tale too,—that Gelon and 
+Theron won a victory over Amilcas the Carchedonian 
+
+
+people living on the coast between the Pyrenees and the 
+Rhone. According to a statement quoted from the historian 
+Ephorus, this Carthaginian expedition was part of a con- 
+certed plan, whereby the Greek world was to be attacked 
+by the Carthaginians in the west and the Persians in the 
+east simultaneously. 
+
+
+479 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Θήρωνα νικᾶν ᾿Αμίλκαν τὸν Καρχηδόνιον καὶ ἐν 
+Σαλαμῖνι τοὺς "Ελληνας τὸν Πέρσην. τὸν δὲ 
+᾿Αμίλκαν Καρχηδόνιον ἐόντα πρὸς πατρός, 
+μητρόθεν δὲ Συρηκόσιον, βασιλεύσαντά τε κατ᾽ 
+ἀνδραγαθίην Καρχηδονίων, ὡς ἡ συμβολή τε 
+ἐγίνετο καὶ ὡς ἑσσοῦτο τῇ μάχῃ, ἀφανισθῆναι 
+πυνθάνομαι: οὔτε γὰρ ζῶντα οὔτε ἀποθανόντα 
+φανῆναι οὐδαμοῦ γῆς: τὸ πᾶν γὰρ ἐπεξελθεῖν 
+διξήμενον Γέλωνα. 
+
+167. Ἔστι δὲ i ὑπ᾽ αὐτῶν Καρχηδονίων ὅδε λόγος 
+λεγόμενος, οἰκότι χρεωμένων, ὡς οἱ μὲν βάρβαροι 
+τοῖσι Ἕλλησι ἐν τῇ Σικελίῃ ἐμάχοντο ἐξ ἠοῦς 
+ἀρξάμενοι μέχρι δείλης ὀψίης (ἐπὶ τοσοῦτο γὰρ 
+λέγεται ἑλκύσαι τὴν σύστασιν), ὁ δὲ ᾿Αμίλκας ἐν 
+τούτῳ τῷ χρόνῳ μένων ἐν τῷ στρατοπέδῳ ἐθύετο 
+καὶ ἐκαλλιερέετο ἐπὶ πυρῆς μεγάλης σώματα 
+ὅλα καταγίζων, ἰδὼν δὲ τροπὴν τῶν ἑωυτοῦ 
+γινομένην, ὡς ἔτυχε ἐπισπένδων τοῖσι ἱροῖσι, 
+ὦσε ἑωυτὸν ἐς τὸ πῦρ' οὕτω δὴ κατακαυθέντα 
+ἀφανισθῆναι. -ἀφανισθέντι δὲ ᾿Αμίλκᾳ τρόπῳ 
+εἴτε τοιούτῳ ὡς Φοίνικες λέγουσι, εἴτε ἑτέρῳ 
+ὡς Καρχηδόνιοι καὶ Συρηκόσιοι,] τοῦτο μέν οἱ 
+
+lA 
+
+ύουσι, τοῦτο δὲ μνήματα ἐποίησαν ἐν πάσῃσι 
+τῇσι πόλισι τῶν ἀποικίδων, ἐν αὐτῇ τε μέγιστον 
+Καρχηδόνι. 
+"^ 168. Τὰ μὲν ἀπὸ Σικελίης τοσαῦτα. Κερκυ- 
+ραῖοι δὲ τάδε ὑποκρινάμενοι τοῖσι ἀγγέλοισι 
+τοιάδε ἐ ἐποίησαν" καὶ γὰρ τούτους παρελάμβανον 
+οἱ αὐτοὶ ot περ ἐς Σικελίην ἀπίκοντο, λέγοντες 
+τοὺς αὐτοὺς λόγους τοὺς καὶ πρὸς Γέλωνα ἔλεγον. 
+
+1 Stein brackets ós K. καὶ X.; the Καρχ. are of course the 
+same as the Φοίνικες. 
+
+
+430 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 166-168 
+
+
+in Sicily on the selfsame day whereon the Greeks 
+vanquished the Persian at Salamis. This Amilcas 
+was, on his father's side, a Carchedonian, and a 
+Syracusan on his mother's, and had been made king 
+of Carchedon for his manly worth. When the 
+armies met and he was worsted in the battle, it is 
+said that he vanished out of sight; for Gelon sought 
+for him in every place, yet nowhere on earth could 
+he be found, dead or alive. 
+
+167. The story told by the Carchedonians them- 
+selves has a show of truth. They say, that the 
+foreigners fought with the Greeks in Sicily from 
+dawn til late evening (so long, it is said, the 
+mellay was drawn out), during all which time 
+Amilcas stayed in his camp offering sacrifice and 
+striving to win favourable omens by burning whole 
+bodies on a great pyre; and when he saw his army 
+routed, he cast himself into the fire where he was 
+pouring libations on the sacrifice ; whereby he was 
+consumed and no more seen. Whether it were 
+thus that he vanished, as the Phoenicians say, or 
+in some other way, as say the Carchedonians and 
+Syracusans, sacrifice is offered to him, and monuments 
+have been set up in all the colonists' cities, the 
+greatest of all which is in Carchedon itself. 
+
+168. Thus much of the Sicilian part. As for the 
+Corcyraeans, their answer to the envoys and their 
+acts were as I will show ; for the men who had gone 
+to Sicily sought their aid too, using the same plea as 
+they had used with Gelon ; and the Corcyraeans for 
+
+
+The story may be true; or it may have arisen out of the 
+name Hamilcar (= Abd Melqart, servant of Melqart); for 
+self-immolation by fire is closely associated with Melqart 
+worship. | 
+| 481 
+VOL. III. I I 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οἳ δὲ .παραυτίκα μὲν ὑπίσχοντο πέμψειν τε καὶ 
+ἀμυνέειν, φράζοντες ὡς οὔ σφι περιοπτέη ἐστὶ ἡ 
+Ἑλλὰς ἀπολλυμένη" ἦν γὰρ σφαλῇ, σφεῖς γε 
+οὐδὲν ἄλλο ἢ δουλεύσουσι τῇ πρώτῃ τῶν ἡμερέων' 
+ἀλλὰ τιμωρητέον. εἴη ἐς τὸ δυνατώτατον. ὑπεκρί- 
+ναντο μὲν οὕτω εὐπρόσωπα: ἐπεὶ δὲ ἔδει βοηθέειν, 
+ἄλλα νοέοντες ἐπλήρωσαν νέας ἑξήκοντα, μόγις 
+δὲ ἀναχθέντες προσέμιξαν τῇ Πελοποννήσῳ, καὶ 
+περὶ Ἠύλον καὶ Ταίναρον γῆς τῆς Λακεδαιμονίων 
+ἀνεκώχευον ' τὰς νέας, καραδοκέοντες καὶ οὗτοι τὸν 
+πόλεμον τῇ πεσέεται, ἀελπτέοντες μὲν τοὺς 
+Ἕλληνας ὑπερβαλέεσθαι, δοκέοντες δὲ τὸν Πέρσην 
+κατακρατήσαντα πολλὸν ἄρξειν πάσης τῆς 
+Ἑλλάδος, ἐποίευν ὧν ἐπίτηδες, ἱ ἵνα ἔχωσι πρὸς 
+τὸν Πέρσην λέγειν τοιάδε. ‘CO βασιλεῦ, ἡμεῖς, 
+παραλαμβανόντων τῶν “Ελλήνων ἡμέας ἐς τὸν 
+πόλεμον τοῦτον, ἔχοντες δύναμιν οὐκ ἐλαχίστην 
+οὐδὲ νέας ἐλαχίστας παρασχόντες ἂν ἀλλὰ 
+πλείστας μετά γε ᾿Αθηναίους, οὐκ ἠθελήσαμέν 
+τοι ἐναντιοῦσθαι οὐδέ τι ἀποθύμιον ποιῆσαι. 
+
+τοιαῦτα λέγοντες ἤλπιζον πλέον τι τῶν ἄλλων 
+οἴσεσθαι: τώ περ ἂν καὶ ἐγένετο, ὡς ἐμοὶ δοκέει. 
+πρὸς δὲ τοὺς “Ελληνάς σφι σκῆψις! ἐπεποίητο, τῇ 
+περ 67 kai ἐχρήσαντο. αἰτιωμένων yap τῶν 
+Ἑλλήνων ὅτι οὐκ ἐβοήθεον, ἔφασαν πληρῶσαι 
+μὲν ἐξήκοντα τριήρεας, ὑπὸ δὲ ἐτησιέων ἀνέμων 
+ὑπερβαλεῖν Μαλέην οὐκ οἷοί τε γενέσθαι" οὕτω 
+οὐκ ἀπικέσθαι ἐς Σαλαμῖνα, καὶ οὐδεμιῇ κακότητι 
+λειφθῆναι τῆς ναυμαχίης. 
+
+169. Οὗτοι μὲν οὕτω διεκρούσαντο τοὺς ENAN- 
+νας. Κρῆτες δέ, ἐπείτε σφέας παρελάμβανον οἱ 
+ἐπὶ τούτοισι ταχθέντες “Ελλήνων, ἐποίησαν 
+482 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 168-169 
+
+
+the nonce promised to send help and protection, 
+declaring that they could not suffer Hellas to perish, 
+—for if she should fall, of a surety the very next 
+day would see them also enslaved,—but they must 
+render aid to the best of their power. Thus they 
+gave a specious answer; but when the time came for 
+sending help, their minds were changed; they 
+manned sixty ships, and did with much ado put out 
+to sea and make the coast of the Peloponnese; but 
+there they anchored off Pylos and Taenarus in the 
+Lacedaemonian territory, waiting like the others to 
+see which way the war should incline; they had no 
+hope that the Greeks would prevail, but thought 
+_ that the Persian would win a great victory and be 
+lord of all Hellas. What they did, therefore, was 
+done of set purpose, that they might be able to say 
+to the Persian, * O king, we whose power is as great 
+as any, and who could have furnished as many ships 
+as any state save Athens,—we, when the Greeks 
+essayed to gain our aid in this war, would not resist 
+you nor do aught displeasing to you." This plea 
+they hoped would win them some advantage more 
+than ordinary; and so, methinks, it would have 
+been. But they were ready with an excuse which 
+they could make to the Greeks, and in the end they 
+made it; when the Greeks blamed them for sending 
+no help, they said that they had manned sixty 
+triremes, but by stress of the etesian winds they 
+could not round Malea ; thus it was (they said) that 
+they could not arrive at Salamis: it was no craven 
+spirit that made them late for the sea-fight. 
+
+169. With such a plea they put the Greeks off. 
+But the Cretans, when the Greeks appointed to 
+deal with them strove to gain their aid, did as I will 
+
+483 
+11 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τοιόνδε' πέμψαντες κοινῇ θεοπρόπους è ἐς Δελφοὺς 
+τὸν θεὸν ἐπειρώτων ei σφι ἄμεινον τιμωρέουσι 
+γίνεται τῇ Ελλάδι. 7 δὲ Πυθίη i ὑπεκρίνατο E 
+νήπιοι, ἐπιμέμφεσθε ὅ ὅσα ὑμῖν ἐκ τῶν Μενελάου 
+τιμωρημάτων Μίνως ἔπεμψε μηνίων δακρυµατα, 
+ὅτι οἳ μὲν οὐ συνεξεπρήξαντο αὐτῷ τὸν ἐν Καμικῷ 
+θάνατον γενόμενον, ὑμεῖς. δὲ ἐκείνοισι τὴν ἐκ 
+Σπάρτης ἁρπασθεῖσαν ὑπ ἀνδρὸς βαρβάρου 
+γυναῖκα." ταῦτα οἱ Κρῆτες ὡς ἀπενειχθέντα 
+ἤκουσαν, ἔσχοντο τῆς τιμωρίης. 
+
+170. Λέγεται γὰρ Μίνων κατὰ ζήτησιν Δαιδά- 
+λου ἀπικόμενον ἐς Σικανίην τὴν νῦν Σικελίην 
+καλευμένην ἀποθανεῖν βιαίῳ θανάτῳ. ἀνὰ δὲ 
+χρόνον Κρῆτας, θεοῦ σφι ἐποτρύναντος, πάντας 
+πλὴν Ἠολιχνιτέων τε καὶ Πραισίων ἀπικομένους 
+στόλῳ μεγάλῳ ἐς Σικανίην πολιορκέειν ἐπ᾽ ἔτεα 
+πέντε πόλιν Καμικόν, τὴν κατ᾽ ἐμὲ ᾿Ακραγαντῖνοι 
+ἐνέμοντο" τέλος δὲ οὐ δυναμένους οὔτε ἑλεῖν 
+οὔτε παραμένειν λιμῷ συνεστεῶτας, ἀπολιπόντας 
+οἴχεσθαι. ὡς δὲ κατὰ Ἰηπυγίην γενέσθαι 
+πλέοντας, ὑπολαβόντα σφέας χειμῶνα μέγαν 
+ἐκβαλεῖν ἐς . τὴν γῆν" συναραχθέντων δὲ τῶν 
+πλοίων, οὐδεμίαν γάρ σφι ἔτι κομιδὴν ἐ ἐς Κρήτην 
+φαίνεσθαι, ἐνθαῦτα “Ὑρίην πόλιν κτίσαντας κατα- 
+μεῖναί τε καὶ μεταβαλόντας ἀντὶ μὲν Κρητῶν 
+γενέσθαι Ἰήπυγας Μεσσαπίους, ἀντὶ δὲ εἶναι 
+νησιώτας ἠπειρώτας. ἀπὸ δὲ Ὑρίης πόλιος τὰς 
+ἄλλας οἰκίσαι, τὰς δὴ Ταραντῖνοι χρόνῳ ὕστερον 
+πολλῷ ἐξανιστάντες προσέπταισαν μεγάλως, ὥστε 
+φόνος Ἑλληνικὸς µέγιστος οὗτος δὴ ἐγένετο 
+
+
+1 That is, the Greeks would not help the Cretans to avenge 
+484 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 169-170 
+
+
+show. They sent messengers to Delphi, enquiring 
+if it should be for their advantage to succour the 
+Greeks. The priestess answered them, “ Foolish 
+folk, ye are not then content with the weeping that 
+Minos sent upon your people for the help given to 
+Menelaus, angered because that those others! would 
+not aid to avenge his death at Camicus, yet ye did 
+aid them to avenge the stealing of that woman from 
+Sparta by a foreigner." This being brought to the 
+ears of the Cretans, they would have nought to do 
+with succouring the Greeks. 
+
+170. For Minos (it is said), having gone to Sicania, 
+which is now called Sicily, in search for Daedalus, 
+there perished by a violent death ; and presently all 
+the Cretans save the men of Polichne and Praesus 
+were bidden by a god to go with a great host to 
+Sicania, where for five years they beleaguered the 
+town of Camicus, where in my day the men of 
+Acragas dwelt; but since they could not take it nor 
+abide there for the famine that afflicted them, they 
+left it and departed away. But when they were at 
+sea off lapygia, a great storm caught and drove them 
+ashore ; and their ships being wrecked, and no way 
+left of returning to Crete, they founded there the 
+town of Hyria, and abode in it, changing from 
+Cretans to Messapians of Iapygia, and from islanders 
+to dwellers on the mainland. From Hyria they 
+made settlements in those other towns, which a very 
+long time afterwards the Tarentines essayed to 
+destroy, but suffered great disaster thereby ; so that 
+none has ever heard of so great a slaughter of 
+
+
+the death of Minos ; yet afterwards the Cretans helped the 
+Greeks to avenge the carrying off of Helen. 
+
+
+485 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+πάντων τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν, αὐτῶν τε Ταραντίνων 
+καὶ Ῥηγίνων, ot ὑπὸ Μικύθου τοῦ Χοίρου 
+ἀναγκαξόμενοι τῶν ἀστῶν καὶ ἀπικόμενοι τιμωροὶ 
+Ταραντίνοισι ἀπέθανον τρισχίλιοι οὕτω: αὐτῶν 
+δὲ Ἑαραντίνων οὐκ ἐπῆν ἀριθμός. ὁ δὲ Μίκυθος 
+οἰκέτης ἐὼν ᾿Αναξίλεω ἐπίτροπος “Ῥηγίου καταλέ- 
+λειπτο, οὗτος ὅς περ ἐκπεσὼν ἐκ Ῥηγίου καὶ 
+Τεγέην τὴν ᾿Αρκάδων οἰκήσας ἀνέθηκε ἐν Ὀλυμπίῃ 
+τοὺς πολλοὺς ἀνδριάντας. 
+
+171. ᾿Αλλὰ τὰ μὲν κατὰ “Ῥηγίνους τε καὶ 
+Ταραντίνους τοῦ λόγου μοι παρενθήκη γέγονε’ 
+ἐς δὲ τὴν Κρήτην ἐρημωθεῖσαν, ὡς λέγουσι 
+Πραίσιοι, ἐσοικίζεσθαι ἄλλους τε ἀνθρώπους καὶ 
+μάλιστα ' Ελληνας, τρίτῃ δὲ γενεῇ μετὰ Μίνων 
+τελευτήσαντα γενέσθαι τὰ Τρωικά, ἐν τοῖσι οὐ 
+φλαυροτάτους φαίνεσθαι € ἐόντας Κρῆτας τιμωροὺς 
+Μενέλεῳ. ἀπὸ τούτων δέ σφι ἀπονοστήσασι ἐκ 
+Τροίης λιμόν τε καὶ λοιμὸν γενέσθαι καὶ αὐτοῖσι 
+καὶ τοῖσι προβάτοισι, ἔστε τὸ δεύτερον ἐρη- 
+μωθείσης Κρήτης μετὰ τῶν ὑπολοίπων τρύτους 
+αὐτὴν νῦν νέμεσθαι Κρῆτας. ἡ μὲν δὴ Πυδίη 
+ὑπομνήσασα ταῦτα ἔσχε ον... τιμωρέειν 
+τοῖσι "Ελλησι. 
+
+172. Θεσσαλοὶ δὲ ὑπὸ ἀναγκαίης τὸ πρῶτον 
+ἐμήδισαν, ὡς διέδεξαν, ὅτι oU σφι ἥνδανε τὰ οἱ 
+᾿Αλευάδαι ἐμηχανῶντο. ἐπείτε γὰρ ἐπύθοντο 
+τάχιστα μέλλοντα διαβαίνειν τὸν Πέρσην ἐς τὴν 
+Εὐρώπην, πέμπουσι ἐς τὸν ᾿Ισθμὸν ἀγγέλους" ἐν 
+δὲ τῷ ᾿Ισθμῷ ἧσαν ἁλισμένοι πρὀβουλοι τῆς 
+Ἑλλάδος ἀραιρημένοι ἀπὸ τῶν πολίων τῶν τὰ 
+ἀμείνω φρονεουσέων περὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα. ἀπικό- 
+μενοι δὲ ἐπὶ τούτους τῶν Θεσσαλῶν οἱ ἄγγελοι 
+486 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 170-172 
+
+
+Greeks as was made of the Tarentines and Rhegians ; 
+three thousand townsmen of these latter were slain, 
+who had been constrained by Micythus son of 
+Choerus to come and help the Tarentines, and of 
+the Tarentine slain no count was kept. Micythus 
+was a servant of Anaxilaus, and had been left in 
+charge of Rhegium; it was he who was banished 
+from Rhegium and settled in Tegea of Arcadia, and 
+who set up those many statues at Olympia. 
+
+171. But this business of the Rhegians and 
+Tarentines is a matter apart from my history. Crete 
+being thus left desolate (so the Praesians say), it 
+was peopled by Greeks in especial among other men; 
+and in the third generation after Minos befel the 
+Trojan business, wherein the Cretans bore themselves 
+as bravely as any in the cause of Menelaus. After 
+this when they returned from Troy they and their 
+flocks and herds were afflicted by famine and 
+pestilence, till Crete was once more left desolate; 
+then came a third people of Cretans, and it is they 
+who, with those that were left, now dwell there. 
+It was this that the priestess bade them remember, 
+and so stayed them from aiding the Greeks as they 
+would have done. 
+
+172. The Thessalians had at first taken the Persian 
+part not willingly but of necessity, as their acts 
+showed, because they misliked the devices of the 
+Aleuadae. For as soon as they heard that the 
+Persian was about to cross over into Europe, they 
+sent messengers to the Isthmus, where were as- 
+sembled in council for the Greek cause men chosen 
+from the cities that had the best will towards Hellas. 
+To these the Thessalian messengers came, and said, 
+
+
+487 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἔλεγον “ "Άνδρες Ἕλληνες, δεῖ φυλάσσεσθαι τὴν 
+ἐσβολὴν τὴν Ὀλυμπικήν, i ἶνα Θεσσαλίη τε καὶ K 
+σύμπασα 7 Ἑλλὰς ἐ ἐν σκέπῃ τοῦ πολέμου. ἡμεῖς 
+μέν νυν ἕτοιμοι εἰμὲν συμφυλάσσειν, πέμπειν δὲ 
+χρὴ καὶ ὑμέας στρατιὴν πολλήν, ὡς, εἰ μὴ 
+πέμψετε, ἐπίστασθε ἡ ἡμέας ὁμολογήσειν τῷ Πέρσῃ' 
+οὐ γάρ τι προκατημένους τοσοῦτο πρὸ τῆς ἄλλης 
+“Ελλάδος μούνους πρὸ ὑμέων δεῖ ἀπολέσθαι. 
+βοηθέειν δὲ οὐ Βουλόμενοι ἀναγκαίην ἡμῖν 
+οὐδεμίαν οἷοί τε ἐστὲ προσφέρειν" οὐδαμὰ γὰρ 
+ἀδυνασίης å ἀνάγκη κρέσσων ἔφυ. ἡμεῖς δὲ πειρησό- 
+μεθα αὐτοί τινα σωτηρίην μηχανώμενοι. > 
+
+173. Ταῦτα ἔλεγον οἱ Θεσσαλοί. οἱ δὲ" Ελληνες 
+πρὸς ταῦτα ἐβουλεύσαντο ἐς Θεσσαλίην πέμπειν 
+κατὰ θάλασσαν πεξὸν στρατὸν φυλάξοντα τὴν 
+ἐσβολήν. ὡς δὲ συνελέχθη ὁ 0 στρατός, ἔπλεε "TM 
+Εὐρίπου" ἀπικόμενος δὲ τῆς ᾿Αχαιίης ἐς "λλον, 
+ἀποβὰς ἐπορεύετο ἐς Θεσσαλίην, τὰς νέας αὐτοῦ 
+καταλιπών, καὶ ἀπίκετο ἐς τὰ Τέμπεα ἐς τὴν 
+ἐσβολὴν ἥ περ ἀπὸ Μακεδονίης τῆς κάτω ἐς 
+Θεσσαλίην φέρει παρὰ ποταμὸν Πηνειόν, μεταξὺ 
+δὲ Ὀλύμπου τε ὄρεος ἐόντα καὶ τῆς Ὄσσης. 
+ἐνθαῦτα ἐστρατοπεδεύοντο τῶν Ἑλλήνων κατὰ 
+μυρίους ὁπλίτας συλλεγέντες, καί σφι προσῆν ἡ 
+Θεσσαλῶν ἱ ἵππος" ἐστρατήγεε δὲ Λακεδαιμονίων 
+μὲν Εὐαίνετος ὁ Καρήνου ἐκ τῶν πολεμάρχων 
+ἀραιρημένος, γένεος μέντοι ἐὼν ov τοῦ βασιληίου, 
+᾿Αθηναίων δὲ Θεμιστοκλέης ὁ ο Νεοκλέος. ἔμειναν 
+δὲ ὀλίγας ἡμέρας ἐνθαῦτα: ἀπικόμενοι γὰρ 
+ἄγγελοι παρὰ ᾿Αλεξάνδρου τοῦ ᾿Αµύντεω ἀνδρὸς 
+Μακεδόνος συνεβούλευόν σφι ἀπαλλάσσεσθαι 
+μηδὲ μένοντας ἐν τῇ ἐσβολῇ καταπατηθῆναι ὑπὸ 
+488 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 172-173 
+
+
+* Men of Hellas, the pass of Olympus must be 
+guarded, that Thessaly and all Hellas may be 
+sheltered from the war. Now we are ready to guard 
+it with you; but you too must send a great force; if 
+you will not send it, be assured that we shall make 
+terms with the Persian; for it is not right that we 
+should be left to stand alone for an outpost of Hellas 
+and so perish for your sakes. If you will not send 
+help, there is no constraint that you can put upon us ; 
+for no necessity can prevail over lack of ability. Ας 
+for us, we will essay for ourselves to find some way of 
+deliverance." Thus spoke the men of Thessaly. 
+
+173. Thereupon the Greeks resolved that they 
+would send a land army to Thessaly by sea to guard 
+the pass. When the army had mustered, they passed 
+through the Euripus, and came to Alus in Achaea, 
+where they disembarked and took the road for 
+Thessaly, leaving their ships where they were; and 
+they came to the pass of Tempe, which runs from the 
+lower! Macedonia into Thessaly along the river 
+Peneus, between the mountains Olympus and Ossa. 
+There the Greeks encamped, to the number of about 
+ten thousand men-at-arms altogether, and the 
+Thessalian horse was there withal; the general of 
+the Lacedaemonians was Euaenetus son of Carenus, 
+chosen among the polemarchs, yet not of the royal 
+house; and of the Athenians, Themistocles son of 
+Neocles. They remained but a few days there ; for 
+messengers came from Alexander son of Amyntas, 
+the Macedonian, counselling them to depart and not 
+abide there to be trodden under foot of the invading 
+
+
+1 As opposed to the hill country further inland. 
+
+
+489 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τοῦ στρατοῦ τοῦ ἐπιόντος, σημαίνοντες τὸ πλῆθός 
+τε τῆς στρατιῆς καὶ τὰς νέας, ὡς δὲ οὗτοί σφι 
+ταῦτα συνεβούλευον, χρηστὰ γὰρ ἐδόκεον συµβου- 
+λεύειν καί σφι εὔνοος ἐφαίνετο ἐὼν ὁ Μακεδών, 
+ἐπείθοντο. δοκέειν δέ μοι, ἀρρωδίη ἦν τὸ πεῖθον, ὡς 
+ἐπύθοντο καὶ ἄλλην ἐοῦσαν ἐσβολὴν ἐς Θεσσαλοὺς 
+κατὰ τὴν ἄνω Μακεδονίην διὰ Περραιβῶν κατὰ 
+Γόννον πόλιν, τῇ περ δὴ καὶ ἐσέβαλε ἡ στρατιὴ 7 
+Εέρξεω. καταβάντες δὲ οἱ Ελληνες ἐπὶ τὰς νέας 
+ὀπίσω ἐπορεύοντο ἐς τὸν Ἰσθμόν. 
+
+174. Αὕτη ἐγένετο ἡ ἐς Θεσσαλίην στρατηΐη, 
+βασιλέος τε μέλλοντος διαβαίνειν € ἐς τὴν Εὐρώπην 
+ἐκ τῆς ᾿Ασίης καὶ ἐόντος ἤδη ἐ ἐν ᾿Αβύδῳ. Θεσσα- 
+λοὶ δὲ ἐρημωθέντες συμμάχων οὕτω δὴ ἐμήδισαν 
+προθύμως οὐδ᾽ ἔτι ἐνδοιαστῶς, ὥστε ἐν τοῖσι 
+πρήγμασι ἐφαίνοντο βασιλέι ἄνδρες ἐόντες 
+χρησιμώτατοι. 
+
+175. Οἱ δὲ “Ἕλληνες ἐπείτε ἀπίκατο ἐς τὸν 
+]σθμόν, ἐβουλεύοντο πρὸς τὰ λεχθέντα ἐξ 
+᾿Αλεξάνδρου τῇ τε στήσονται τὸν πόλεμον καὶ 
+ἐν οἴοισι χώροισι. ἡ νικῶσα δὲ γνώμη ἐγίνετο 
+τὴν ἐν Θερμοπύλῃσι ἐσβολὴν φυλάξαι: στεινο- 
+τέρη γὰρ ἐφαίνετο ἐοῦσα τῆς ἐς Θεσσαλίην καὶ 
+ἅμα ἀγχοτέρη ! τῆς ἑωυτῶν: τὴν δὲ .ἀτραπόν, 
+δι ἣν ἥλωσαν οἱ ἁλόντες Ἑλλήνων ἐν Θερμο- 
+πύλῃσι, οὐδὲ Ἴδεσαν ἐοῦσαν πρότερον ἢ περ 
+ἀπικόμενοι ἐς Θερμοπύλας ἐπύθοντο Τρηχινίων. 
+ταύτην ὧν ἐβουλεύσαντο φυλάσσοντες τὴν ἐσβο- 
+ANY μὴ παριέναι ἐς τὴν Ἑλλάδα τὸν βάρβαρον, τὸν 
+
+1 MS. ἀγχοτέρη τε, in consequence of which Stein marks 
+
+
+a lacuna, for words (e. g. καὶ μούνη) corresponding to τε, after 
+ἑωυτῶν. But re may easily be a mistake, arising out of τῆς. 
+
+
+490 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 173-175 
+
+
+host; whereby the message signified the multitude 
+of the army, and the ships. Thus admonished by 
+the messengers (as they thought that the advice was 
+good and that the Macedonian meant well by them), 
+the Greeks followed their counsel. But to my 
+thinking what persuaded them was fear, since they 
+were informed that there was another pass leading 
+into Thessaly by the hill country of Macedonia through 
+the country of the Perrhaebi,near the town of Gonnus; 
+which indeed was the way whereby Xerxes' army 
+descended on Thessaly. So the Greeks went down 
+to their ships and made their way back to the 
+Isthmus. 
+
+174. This was their expedition to Thessaly, while 
+the king was planning to cross into Europe from 
+Asia and was already at Abydos. The Thessalians, 
+being bereft of their allies, did thereupon take the 
+Persian part whole-heartedly and with no further 
+doubt, so that in their acts they approved themselves 
+men most useful to the king. 
+
+175. Being come to the Isthmus, the Greeks con- 
+sulted together how and where they should stand to 
+fight, having regard to what was said by Alexander. 
+The counsel that prevailed was, that they should 
+guard the pass of Thermopylae; for they saw that 
+it was narrower than the pass into Thessaly and 
+moreover nearer home; and for the path which 
+brought about the fall of those Greeks who fell at 
+Thermopylae, they knew not even that there was 
+one till they came to Thermopylae and learnt of 
+it from the men of Trachis. This pass then they 
+were resolved to guard, and so stay the foreigners' 
+passage into Hellas, while their fleet should sail to 
+
+
+491 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δὲ ναυτικὸν στρατὸν πλέειν γῆς τῆς Ἱστιαιώτιδος 
+ἐπὶ ΄᾿Αρτεμίσιον. ταῦτα γὰρ ἀγχοῦ TE ἀλλήλων 
+ἐστὶ ὥστε πυνθάνεσθαι τὰ κατὰ ἑκατέρους ἐόντα, 
+οἵ τε χῶροι οὕτω .ἔχουσι. 
+
+176. Τοῦτο μὲν τὸ ᾿Αρτεμίσιον' ἐκ τοῦ πελά- 
+γεος τοῦ Θρηικίου. ἐξ εὐρέος συνάγεται ἐς στεινὸν 
+ἐόντα τὸν πόρον τὸν μεταξὺ νήσου τε Σκιάθου καὶ 
+ἠπείρου Μαγνησίης" ἐκ δὲ τοῦ στεινοῦ τῆς Εὐβοίης 
+ἤδη τὸ ᾿Αρτεμίσιον δέκεται αἰγιαλός, ἐν δὲ ᾿Αρτέ- 
+µιδος i ἱρόν. ἡ δὲ αὖ διὰ Τρηχῖνος ἔσοδος ἐς τὴν 
+Ἑλλάδα ἐστὶ τῇ ,στεινοτάτη -ἡμίπλεθρον. οὐ 
+μέντοι κατὰ τοῦτό ye ἐστὶ τὸ στεινότατον τῆς 
+χώρης τῆς ἄλλης, ἀλλ᾽ ἔμπροσθέ τε Θερμοπυλέων 
+καὶ ὄπισθε, κατά τε ᾿Αλπηνοὺς ὄπισθε ἐόντας 
+ἐοῦσα ἁμαξιτὸς μούνη, καὶ ἔμπροσθε κατὰ Φοίνικα 
+ποταμὸν ἀγχοῦ ᾿Ανθήλης πόλιος ἄλλη, ἁμαξιτὸς 
+μούνη. τῶν δὲ Θερμοπυλέων τὸ μὲν πρὸς ἑσπέρης 
+ὄρος ἄβατόν τε καὶ ἀπόκρημνον, ὑψηλόν, ἀνατεῖνον 
+ἐς τὴν Οἴτην" τὸ δὲ πρὸς τὴν ἠῶ τῆς ὁδοῦ θάλασσα 
+ὑποδέκεται καὶ τενάγεα. ἔστι δὲ ἐν τῇ ἐσόδῳ 
+ταύτῃ θερμὰ λουτρά, τὰ Χύτρους καλέουσι οὗ 
+ἐπιχώριοι, καὶ βωμὸς ἵδρυται "Ἡρακλέος ἐπ᾽ aù- 
+τοῖσι. ἐδέδμητο δὲ τεῖχος κατὰ ταύτας τὰς 
+ἐσβολάς, καὶ τό ye παλαιὸν πύλαι ἐπῆσαν. 
+ἔδειμαν δὲ Φωκέες τὸ τεῖχος δείσαντες, ἐπεὶ 
+Θεσσαλοὶ ἦλθον ἐκ Θεσπρωτῶν οἰκήσοντες γῆν 
+τὴν Αἰολίδα τήν περ νῦν ἐκτέαται. ἅτε δὴ πειρω- 
+μένων τῶν Θεσσαλῶν .καταστρέφεσθαι σφέας, 
+τοῦτο προεφυλάξαντο οἱ Φωκέες, καὶ τὸ ὕδωρ τὸ 
+
+
+1 Hellas in the narrower sense, not including Thessaly. 
+3 Herodotus’ points of the compass are wrong throughout 
+
+
+492 
+
+
+Digitized by Google 
+
+
+vuggnao qvo j 6002 IPLUS 
+
+
+Ἷ { “hat ae {1 TTA 
+
+ὑπ σημ T 
+
+4: l il σι 
+ASS AN AAT H 
+
+
+p 
+"n ft 44: 
+
+
+Ρ 
+
+ή 
+7, IN ~S 
+αν 
+
+
+- 
+
+
+uy | 
+` WP Ps ο. - v à 
+| ολα 
+"7717. 
+
+
+ow — ο» 
+
+
+“owe 
+Ἡν TAdOWAHAAL 
+
+
+Digitized by Goog le 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 175-176 
+
+
+Artemisium in the territory of Histiaea. These 
+places are near together, so that each force could be 
+informed of the other’s doings; and their nature is as 
+I will now show. 
+
+176. As touching Artemisium first: the wide 
+Thracian sea draws in till the passage between the 
+island of Sciathus and the mainland of Magnesia is 
+but narrow; and this strait leads next to Artemisium, 
+which is a beach on the coast of Euboea, with a 
+temple of Artemis thereon. The pass through 
+Trachis into Hellas! is at its narrowest fifty feet wide. 
+Yet it is not here but elsewhere that the way is 
+narrowest, namely, in front of Thermopylae and 
+behind it; at Alpeni, which lies behind, it is but the 
+breadth of a cart-way, and the same at the Phoenix 
+stream, near the town of Anthele. To the west? of 
+Thermopylae rises a high mountain inaccessible and 
+precipitous, a spur of Oeta ; to the east of the road 
+there is nought but marshes and sea. In this pass 
+are warm springs for bathing, called by the people of 
+the country The Pots, and an altar of Heracles 
+stands thereby. Across this entry a wall had been 
+built, and formerly there was a gate therein; it was 
+built by the Phocians? for fear of the Thessalians, 
+when these came from Thesprotia to dwell in the 
+Aeolian land which they now possess; inasmuch as 
+the Thessalians were essaying to subdue them, the 
+Phocians made this their protection, and in their 
+
+
+in his description of Thermopylae; the road runs east and 
+west, not north and south as he supposes; so '* west" here 
+should be **south" and “east” ‘‘north.” -**In front" and 
+** behind " are equivalent to ** west” and ‘‘east” respectively. 
+
+3 [t is to be noted that in 480 the pass of Thermopylae 
+was no longer in Phocian territory. 
+
+
+493 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+θερμὸν Τότε ἐπῆκαν ἐπὶ τὴν ἔσοδον, ὡς ἂν χαρα- 
+δρωθείη ὁ ὁ χῶρος, πᾶν μηχανώμενοι ὅκως μή σφι 
+ἐσβάλοιεν οἱ Θεσσαλοὶ ἐπὶ τὴν χώρην. τὸ μέν 
+νυν τεῖχος τὸ ἀρχαῖον. ἐκ παλαιοῦ τε ἐδέδμητο καὶ 
+τὸ πλέον αὐτοῦ ἤδη ὑπὸ χρόνου ἔκειτο τοῖσι δὲ 
+αὖτις ὀρθώσασι ἔδοξε ταύτῃ ἀπαμύνειν ἀπὸ τῆς 
+Ἑλλάδος τὸν βάρβαρον. κώμη δὲ ἐ ἐστὶ ἀγχοτάτω 
+τῆς ὁδοῦ ᾿Αλπηνοὶ οὔνομα’ ἐκ ταύτης δὲ ἐπισιτιεῖ- 
+σθαι ἐλογίξοντο οἱ "Ελληνες. 
+
+177. Οἱ μέν νυν χῶροι οὗτοι τοῖσι "Ελλησι 
+εἶναι ἐφαίνοντο ἐπιτήδεοι" πάντα γὰρ προσκεψά- 
+µενοι καὶ ἐπιλογισθέντες 6 ὅτι οὔτε πλήθεϊ ἕξουσι 
+χρᾶσθαι οἱ βάρβαροι οὔτε ὕππῳ, ταύτῃ σφι ἔδοξε 
+δέκεσθαι τὸν ἐπιόντα ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα. ὡς δὲ 
+ἐπύθοντο τὸν Πέρσην ἐ ἐόντα ἐν Πιερίῃ, διαλυθέντες 
+ἐκ τοῦ Ἰσθμοῦ ἐστρατεύοντο αὐτῶν οἳ μὲν ἐς 
+Θερμοπύλας meth, ἄλλοι δὲ κατὰ θάλασσαν ἐπ᾽ 
+᾿Ἀρτεμίσιον. 
+
+178. Οἱ μὲν δῇ “Ἕλληνες κατὰ τάχος ἐβοήθεον 
+διαταχθέντες, Δελφοὶ δ᾽ ἐν τούτῳ τῷ χρόνῳ 
+ἐχρηστηριάξοντο τῷ θεῷ ὑπὲρ ἑωυτῶν καὶ τῆς 
+
+Ελλάδος καταρρωδηκότες, καί σφι ἐχρήσθη ἀνέ- 
+pow eU εσθαι" μεγάλους γὰρ τούτους ἔσεσθαι 
+τῇ ‘ade συμμάχους. Δελφοὶ δὲ δεξάμενοι τὸ 
+μαντήιον πρῶτα μὲν Ἑλλήνων τοῖσι βουλομένοισι 
+εἶναι ἐλευθέροισι ἐξήγγειλαν τὰ χρησθέντα αὐτοῖ- 
+σι, καί σφι δεινῶς καταρρωδέουσι τὸν βάρβαρον 
+ἐξαγγείλαντες χάριν ἀθάνατον κατέθεντο. μετὰ 
+δὲ ταῦτα οἱ Δελφοὶ τοῖσι ἀνέμοισι βωμόν τε 
+ἀπέδεξαν ἐ ἐν Ovin, τῇ περ τῆς Κηφισοῦ θυγατρὸς 
+Θυίης τὸ τέμενος ἐστί, ÈT ἧς καὶ ὁ χῶρος οὗτος 
+τὴν ἐπωνυμίην ἔχει, καὶ θυσίῃσι σφέας μετήισαν. 
+
+
+494 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 176-178 
+
+
+search for every means to keep the Thessalians from 
+invading their country they then turned the stream 
+from the hot springs into the pass, that it might be a 
+watercourse. The ancient wall had been built long 
+ago and time had by now laid the most of it in ruins ; 
+it was now built up again, that the foreigners’ way 
+into Hellas might thus be barred. Very near the 
+road is a village, called Alpeni, whence the Greeks 
+reckoned that they would get provender. 
+
+177. These places, then, were thought by the 
+Greeks to suit their purpose; for after due survey 
+they reckoned that the foreigners could not make use 
+of their multitude, nor of their horsemen ; and there- 
+fore they resolved, that here they would encounter 
+the invader of Hellas. Then, hearing that the 
+Persian was in Pieria, they broke up from the 
+Isthmus and set out with their army to Thermopylae 
+and their fleet to Artemisium. 
+
+178. So with all speed the Greeks went their 
+several ways to meet the enemy. In the meantime, 
+the Delphians, being sore afraid for themselves and 
+for Hellas, enquired of the god, and the oracle was 
+given them, That they should pray to the winds; 
+for these would be potent allies of Hellas. Having 
+received the oracle, the Delphians first sent word of 
+it to such Greeks as desired to be free, for which 
+message in their mortal fear of the foreigner these 
+were for ever grateful ; and next, they made an altar 
+to the winds at Thyia, where is now the precinct of 
+Thyia the daughter of Cephisus; and they offered 
+sacrifices to them. 
+
+495 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+17 9. Δελφοὶ μὲν δὴ κατὰ τὸ χρηστήριον ἔτι 
+καὶ νῦν τοὺς ἀνέμους ἱλάσκονται. ὁ δὲ ναυτικὸς 
+EépEeo στρατὸς ὁρμώμενος ἐκ Θέρμης πόλιος 
+παρέβαλε νηυσὶ τῆσι ἄριστα πλεούσῃσι δέκα ἰθὺ 
+Σκιάθου, ἔνθα ἦσαν προφυλάσσουσαι νέες τρεῖς 
+Ἑλληνίδες, Τροιξηνίη τε καὶ Αἰγιναίη καὶ Αττική. 
+προϊδόντες δὲ οὗτοι τὰς νέας τῶν βαρβάρων ἐς 
+φυγὴν ὅρμησαν. 
+
+180. Τὴν μὲν δὴ Τροιξηνίην, τῆς ἦρχε Ἡρηξῖνος, 
+αὐτίκα αἱρέουσι ἐπισπόμενοι οἱ βάρβαροι, καὶ 
+ἔπειτα τῶν ἐπιβατέων αὐτῆς τὸν καλλιστεύοντα 
+ἀγαγόντες ἐπὶ τῆς πρώρης τῆς νεὸς ἔσφαξαν, 
+διαδέξιον ποιεύμενοι τὸν εἶλον τῶν Ελλήνων 
+πρῶτον καὶ κάλλιστον. τῷ δὲ σφαγιασθέντι 
+τούτῳ οὔνομα ἣν Λέων τάχα ὃ ἄν τι καὶ τοῦ 
+οὐνόματος ἐπαύροιτο. 
+
+181. Ἡ δὲ Αἰγιναύη, τῆς ἐτριηράρχεε ᾿Ασωνίδης, 
+καὶ τινά σφι θόρυβον παρέσχε, Ην έω τοῦ 
+᾿Ισχενόου ἐπιβατεύοντος, ἀνδρὸς ἀρίστου Ύενο- 
+μένου ταύτην τὴν ἡμέρην" ὃς ἐπειδὴ 7 νηῦς 
+ἡλίσκετο ἐς τοῦτο ἀντεῖχε μαχόμενος ἐς ὃ κατε- 
+κρεουργήθη ἅπας, ὡς δὲ πεσὼν οὐκ ἀπέθανε 
+ἀλλ. ἦν ἔμπνοος, οἱ Πέρσαι, οἵ περ ἐπεβάτευον 
+ἐπὶ τῶν νεῶν, δι ἀρετὴν τὴν ἐκείνου περιποιῆσαί 
+μιν περὶ πλείστου ἐποιήσαντο, σμύρνησί τε 
+ἰώμενοι τὰ ἕλκεα καὶ σινδόνος βυσσίνης τελαμῶσι 
+κατειλίσσοντες᾽ καί μιν, ὡς ὀπίσω ἀπίκοντο ἐς τὸ 
+ἑωυτῶν στρατόπεδον, ἐπεδείκνυσαν ἐκπαγλεόμενοι 
+πάσῃ τῇ στρατιῇ περιέποντες εὖ. τοὺς δὲ ἄλλους 
+τοὺς ἔλαβον ἐν τῇ νηὶ ταύτῃ περιεῖπον ὡς 
+ἀνδράποδα. 
+
+
+2 διαδέξιον has been otherwise translated, as meaning “ of 
+
+
+496 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 179-181 
+
+
+179. So the Delphians offer to the winds sacrifice 
+of propitiation to this day by the oracle's bidding. 
+But Xerxes' fleet set forth from the city of Therma, 
+and the ten swiftest of the ships laid their course 
+straight for Sciathus, where there lay an advance 
+guard of three Greek ships, a Troezenian and an 
+Aeginetan and an Attic. These, when they sighted 
+the foreigners' ships, took to flight. | 
+
+180. The ship of Troezen, whereof Prexinus was 
+captain, was pursued and straightway taken by the 
+foreigners, who thereupon brought the goodliest of 
+its fighting men and cut his throat on the ship's 
+prow, so making a common sacrifice! of the first and 
+goodliest of their Greek captives. The name of him 
+that was thus offered up was Leon; and mayhap it 
+was his name that he had to thank for it. 
+
+181. But the Aeginetan trireme, whereof Asonides 
+was captain, did even give them some trouble. 
+There was a fighting man aboard, Pytheas son of 
+Ischenous, who that day bore himself very gallantly ; 
+for his ship being taken, he would not give over 
+fighting till he was all hacked about with wounds ; and 
+when he fell, yet was not slain but had life in him, 
+the Persian soldiers on the ships were at great pains 
+to save him alive for his valour, tending his wounds 
+with ointments and wrapping him in bandages of 
+linen cloth 2; and when they returned back to their 
+own station, they showed him to the whole host, and 
+made much of him and kindly entreated him. But 
+the rest that they took in that ship they used as slaves. 
+
+
+good augury”; Stein derives it rather from διαδέχεσθαι, 
+
+supposing the meaning to be ‘‘a sacrifice where the portions 
+
+of the victim are handed round among the sacrificers.” 
+eo used for mummy-wrappings in Egypt; cp. 
+
+
+497 
+VOL. III. | κκ 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+182. Αἱ μὲν δὴ δύο τῶν νεῶν οὕτω ἐχειρώθησαν' 
+ἡ δὲ τρίτη, τῆς ἐτριηράρχεε Poppos ἀνὴρ ᾿Αθη. 
+ναῖος, φεύγουσα ἐξοκέλλει ἐς τὰς ἐκβολὰς τοῦ 
+Πηνειοῦ, καὶ τοῦ μὲν σκάφεος ἐκράτησαν οἱ 
+βάρβαροι, τῶν δὲ ἀνδρῶν οὔ ὡς γὰρ δὴ τάχιστα 
+ἐπώκειλαν τὴν νέα οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι, ἀποθορόντες κατὰ 
+Θεσσαλίην πορευόμενοι ἐκομίσθησαν ἐ ἐς ᾿Αθήνας. 
+
+188. Ταῦτα οἱ “Ελληνες οἱ ἐπ᾿ ᾿Αρτεμισίῳ 
+στρατοπεδευόµενοι πυνθάνονται παρὰ πυρσῶν ἐκ 
+Σκιάθου᾽ πυθόμενοι δὲ καὶ καταρρωδήσαντες ἆ ἀπὸ 
+τοῦ ᾿Αρτεμισίου μετορμίξοντο ἐς Χαλκίδα, φυλά- 
+ἕ οντες μὲν τὸν Εὔριπον, λείποντες δὲ ἡ ἡμεροσκόπους 
+περὶ τὰ ὑψηλὰ τῆς Εὐβοίης. τῶν δὲ δέκα νεῶν 
+τῶν βαρβάρων τρεῖς ἐπήλασαν περὶ τὸ ἕρμα τὸ 
+μεταξὺ ἐὸν Σκιάθου τε καὶ Μαγνησίης, καλεόμενον 
+δὲ Μύρμηκα. ἐνθαῦτα οἱ ἱ βάρβαροι ἐπειδὴ στήλην 
+λίθου ἐπέθηκαν κομίσαντες ἐπὶ τὸ ἕρμα, ὁρμη- 
+θέντες αὐτοὶ ἐκ Θέρμης, ὥς σφι τὸ ἐμποδὼν 
+ἐγεγόνεε καθαρόν, ἐπέπλεον πάσῃσι. τῆσι νηυσί, 
+ἕνδεκα ἡμέρας παρέντες μετὰ την βασιλέος 
+ἐξέλασιν € ἐκ Θέρμη». τὸ δὲ ἕρμα σφι κατηγήσατο 
+ἐὸν ἐν πόρῳ μάλιστα Πάμμων Σκύριος. πανημερὸν 
+δὲ πλέοντες οἱ βάρβαροι ἐξανύουσι τῆς Μαγνησίης 
+χώρης ἐπὶ Σηπιάδα τε καὶ τὸν αἰγιαλὸν τὸν 
+μεταξὺ Κασθαναίης τε πόλιος ἐόντα καὶ Σηπιάδος 
+ἀκτῆς. 
+
+184. Μέχρι μέν νυν τούτου τοῦ χώρου καὶ 
+Θερμοπυλέων ἀπαθής τε κακῶν ἦν ὁ στρατός, καὶ 
+πλῆθος ἡ ἦν τηνικαῦτα ἔτι, ὡς ἐγὼ συμβαλλόμενος 
+εὑρίσκω, τῶν μὲν ἐκ τῶν νεῶν τῶν ἐκ τῆς, ᾿Ασίης, 
+ἐουσέων ἑπτὰ καὶ διηκοσιέων καὶ χιλιέων, τὸν 
+μὲν ἀρχαῖον ἑκάστων τῶν ἐθνέων éovra ὅμιλον 
+
+
+498 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 182-184 
+
+
+182, So two of the ships were thus made captive ; 
+the third trireme, whereof Phormus an Athenian 
+was captain, ran ashore in her flight at the mouth of 
+the Peneus, and the foreigners got the hull of her, 
+but not the crew ; for the Athenians, as soon as they 
+had run their craft aground, leapt out of her and 
+made their way through Thessaly to Athens. 
+
+183. The Greeks that had their station at Artemi- 
+sium were informed of these matters by beacons 
+from Sciathus; whereupon, being affrighted, they 
+changed their anchorage from Artemisium to Chalcis, 
+purposing to guard the Euripus, and leaving watch- 
+men on the heights of Euboea. , Three of the ten 
+foreign ships ran foul of the reef called the Ant, 
+between Sciathus and Magnesia. The foreigners 
+then brought a pillar of stone and set it on the reef; 
+and presently, when their course was plain before 
+them, the whole fleet set forth and sailed from 
+Therma, eleven days after the king had marched 
+thence. Pammon of Scyros it was who showed 
+them where the reef lay, in the strait itself. Voyag- 
+ing all day, the foreign fleet made Sepias in Magnesia 
+and the beach between the town of Casthanaea and 
+the Sepiad headland. 
+
+184. Until the whole host reached this place and 
+Thermopylae it suffered no hurt; and calculation 
+proves to me that its numbers were still such as I will 
+now show. The ships from Asia being twelve 
+hundred and seven, the whole multitude of all the 
+nations, which was in them from the first, was two 
+
+
+499 
+KK 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τέσσερας καὶ εἴκοσι μυριάδας καὶ πρὸς χιλιάδα τε 
+καὶ τετρακοσίους, ὡς ἀνὰ διηκοσίους ἄνδρας λογιξο- 
+µένοισι. ἐν ἑκάστῃ vii. ἐπεβάτευον δὲ ἐπὶ του- 
+τέων τῶν νεῶν, χωρὶς ἑκάστων τῶν ἐπιχωρίων 
+ἐπιβατέων, Περσέων τε καὶ Μήδων καὶ Σακέων 
+τριήκοντα ἄνδρες. οὗτος ἄλλος ὅμιλος γίνεται 
+τρισμύριοι καὶ ἑξακισχίλιοι. καὶ πρὸς διηκόσιοί 
+τε καὶ δέκα. προσθήσω δ ἔτι τούτῳ καὶ τῷ 
+προτέρῳ ἀριθμῷ τοὺς ἐκ τῶν πεντηκοντέρων, 
+ποιήσας, © τι πλέον ἦν αὐτῶν ἢ ἔλασσον, ἀν᾽ 
+ὀγδώκοντα ἄνδρας. ἐνεῖναι. συνελέχθη δὲ ταῦτα 
+τὰ πλοία, ὡς καὶ πρότερον εἰρέθη, τρισχίλια. 
+ἤδη ὧν ἄνδρες ἃ ἂν εἶεν ἐν αὐτοῖσι τέσσερες μυριά- 
+ες καὶ εἴκοσι. τοῦτο μὲν δὴ TO ἐκ τῆς ᾿Ασίης 
+ναυτικὸν ἦν, σύμπαν ἐὸν πεντήκοντα μυριάδες καὶ 
+μία, χιλιάδες δὲ ἔπεισι ἐπὶ ταύτῃσι. ἑπτὰ καὶ 
+πρὸς ἑκατοντάδες εξ καὶ δεκάς. τοῦ δὲ πεξοῦ 
+ἑβδομήκοντα καὶ ἑκατὸν μυριάδες ἐγένοντο, τῶν 
+δὲ ἱππέων ὀκτὼ μυριάδες. προσθήσω δ ἔτι 
+τούτοισι τὰς καμήλους τοὺς ἐλαύνοντας ᾿Αραβίους 
+καὶ τοὺς τὰ ἅρματα Λίβυας, πλῆθος ποιήσας 
+δισμυρίους ἄνδρας. καὶ δὴ τό τε ἐκ τῶν νεῶν 
+καὶ τοῦ πεζοῦ πλῆθος συντιθέμενον γίνεται δίη- 
+κόσιαί τε μυριάδες καὶ τριήκοντα καὶ μία, καὶ 
+πρὸς χιλιάδες ἑ ἑπτὰ καὶ ἑκατοντάδες ἓξ καὶ δεκάς. 
+τοῦτο μὲν τὸ ἐξ αὐτῆς τῆς ᾿Ασίης στράτευμα 
+ἐξαναχθὲν εἴρηται, ἄνευ τε τῆς θεραπηίης τῆς 
+ἑπομένης καὶ τῶν σιταγωγῶν πλοίων καὶ ὅσοι 
+ἐνέπλεον τούτοισι. 
+
+185. Τὸ δὲ δὴ ἐκ τῆς Εὐρώπης ἀγόμενον 
+στράτευμα ἔτι προσλογιστέα τούτῳ παντὶ τῷ 
+ἐξηριθμημένῳ: δόκησιν δὲ δεῖ λέγειν. νέας μέν 
+500 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 184-185 
+
+
+hundred and forty-one thousand and four hundred 
+men, two hundred being reckoned for each ship.! 
+On board of all these ships were thirty fighting men 
+of the Persians and Medes and Sacae, over and above 
+the company which each had of native fighters; the 
+sum of this added multitude is thirty-six thousand, 
+two hundred and ten. But to this and to the first 
+number I add the crews of the ships of fifty oars, 
+reckoning each at eighty men, be they more or 
+fewer. Now seeing that, as has already been said,” 
+there were collected three thousand of these craft, 
+the number of men in them must be on that showing 
+two hundred and forty thousand. These then were 
+the ships' companies from Asia, and the total sum of 
+them was five hundred and seventeen thousand, six 
+hundred and ten. The footmen were shown to be 
+seven hundred thousand and one hundred in number, 
+and the horsemen eighty thousand ; to whom I add 
+the Arabian camel-riders and Libyan charioteers, 
+reckoning them at twenty thousand men. Thus if 
+the forces of sea and land be added together their total 
+sum will be two millions, three hundred and seven- 
+teen thousand, six hundred and ten. Thus far I 
+have spoken of the armament that came from Asia 
+itself, without the service-train that followed it and 
+the corn-bearing craft and the companies thereof. 
+185. But I must still take into account, besides all 
+the host that I have numbered, the armament brought 
+from Europe, speaking to the best of my belief. 
+
+
+1 200 was the usual complement for a Greek trireme— 
+170 rowers, 30 fighters. 
+
+2 [n 97. But Herodotus’ total of 3000 there is only partly 
+composed of fifty-oared ships. 
+
+
+501 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+νυν οἱ ἀπὸ Θρηίκης Ἕλληνες καὶ οἱ ἐκ τῶν νήσων 
+τῶν ἐπικειμενέων τῇ Θρηίκῃ παρείχοντο εἴκοσι 
+καὶ ἑκατόν: ἐκ μέν νυν τουτέων τῶν νεῶν ἄνδρες 
+τετρακισχίλιοι καὶ δισμύριοι γίνονται. πεξοῦ δὲ 
+τὸν Θρήικες παρείχοντο καὶ Παἴονες καὶ ᾿Εορδοὶ 
+καὶ Βοττιαῖοι καὶ τὸ Χαλκιδικὸν γένος καὶ Βρύγοι 
+καὶ lliepes καὶ Μακεδόνες καὶ Περραιθοὶ καὶ 
+᾿Ενιῆνες καὶ Δόλοπες καὶ Μάγνητες. καὶ ᾿Αχαιοὶ 
+καὶ ὅσοι τῆς Θρηίκης τὴν παραλίην νέμονται, 
+τούτων τῶν ἐθνέων τριήκοντα μυριάδας δοκέω 
+γενέσθαι. αὗται ὧν αἱ μυριάδες ἐκείνῃσι προσ- 
+τεθεῖσαι τῇσι ἐκ τῆς ᾿Ασίης, γίνονται αἱ πᾶσαι 
+ἀνδρῶν αἱ μάχιμοι μυριάδες διηκόσιαι καὶ ἑξή- 
+κοντα καὶ τέσσερες, ἔπεισι δὲ ταύτησι ἑκατοντάδες 
+ἑκκαίδεκα καὶ δεκάς. 
+
+186. Ῥοῦ μαχίμου δὲ τούτου ἐόντος ἀριθμὸν 
+τοσούτου, τὴν θεραπηΐην τὴν ἑπομένην τούτοισι 
+καὶ τοὺς ἐν τοῖσι σιταγωγοῖσι ἀκάτοισι ἐόντας καὶ 
+μάλα ἐν τοῖσι ἄλλοισι πλοίοισι τοῖσι ἅμα πλέουσι 
+τῇ στρατιῇ, τούτους τῶν μαχίμων ἀνδρῶν οὐ δοκέω 
+εἶναι ἐλάσσονας ἀλλὰ πλεῦνας. καὶ δή σφεας 
+ποιέω ἴσους ἐκείνοισι εἶναι καὶ οὔτε πλεῦνας οὔτε 
+ἐλάσσονας οὐδέν" ἐξισούμενοι δὲ οὗτοι τῷ μαχίμῳ 
+ἐκπληροῦσι . τὰς ἴσας μυριάδας ἐκείνοισι. οὕτω 
+πεντακοσίας τε μυριάδας καὶ εἴκοσι καὶ ὀκτὼ καὶ 
+χιλιάδας τρεῖς, καὶ ἑκατοντάδας δύο καὶ δεκάδας 
+δύο ἀνδρῶν ἤγαγε Ξέρξης ὁ Δαρείου μέχρι 
+Σηπιάδος καὶ Θερμοπυλέων. 
+
+187. Οὗτος μὲν δὴ τοῦ συνάπαντος τοῦ Ξέρξεω 
+στρατεύματος ἀριθμός, γυναικῶν δὲ σιτοποιῶν καὶ 
+παλλακέων καὶ εὐνούχων οὐδεὶς ἂν εἴποι ἀτρεκέα 
+ἀριθμόν' οὐδ᾽ αὖ ὑποζυγίων τε καὶ τῶν ἄλλων 
+592 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 185-187 
+
+
+For ships, then, the Greeks of Thrace and the islands 
+off Thrace furnished one hundred and twenty; the 
+companies of these ships must then be twenty-four 
+thousand men; and of the land army supplied by all 
+the nations—Thracians, Paeonians, Eordi, Bottiaei, 
+Chalcidians, Brygi, Pierians, Macedonians, Perrhaebi, 
+Enienes, Dolopes, Magnesians, Achaeans, dwellers 
+on the seaboard of Thrace—of all these I suppose 
+the number to have been three hundred thousand. 
+These numbers being added to the numbers from 
+Asia, the full tale of fighting men is seen to be two 
+millions, six hundred and forty-one thousand, six 
+hundred and ten. 
+
+186. Such was the sum of the fighting part of the 
+whole ; as for the service-train that followed them, 
+and the crews of the light corn-bearing vessels and 
+all the other craft besides that came by sea with the 
+armament, these I suppose to have been no fewer but 
+more than the fighting men. But put the case that 
+they were as many, neither more nor fewer: then if 
+they were equal to the fighting part they make up 
+as many tens of thousands as the others; and thus 
+the number of those whom Xerxes son of Darius led 
+as far as the Sepiad headland and Thermopylae was 
+five millions, two hundred and eighty-three thousand, 
+two hundred and twenty. 
+
+187. That is the number of Xerxes' whole arma- 
+ment; but none can say what was the exact sum of 
+cooking women, and concubines, and eunuchs ; nor 
+
+
+593 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+κτηνέων τῶν ἀχθοφόρων καὶ κυνῶν ᾿Ινδικῶν τῶν 
+ἑπομένων, οὐδ᾽ ἂν τούτων ὑπὸ πλήθεος οὐδεὶς ἃ ἂν 
+εἴποι ἀριθμόν. ὥστε οὐδέν μοι θῶμα παρίσταται 
+προδοῦναι. τὰ ῥέεθρα τῶν ποταμῶν ἔστι ὧν, ἀλλὰ 
+μᾶλλον ὅκως τὰ σιτία ἀντέχρησε θῶμά μοι 
+μυριάσι .τοσαύτῃσι. εὑρίσκω γὰρ συμβαλλό- 
+μενος, εἰ χοίνικα πυρῶν ἕκαστος τῆς ἡμέρης 
+ἐλάμβανε καὶ μηδὲν πλέον, ἕνδεκα μυριάδας 
+μεδίμνων τελεομένας ἐπ᾽ ἡμέρῃ ἑκάστῃ καὶ πρὸς 
+τριηκοσίους τε ἄλλους μεδίμνους καὶ τεσσερά- 
+κοντα" γυναιξὶ δὲ καὶ εὐνούχοισι καὶ ὑποξυγίοισι 
+«καὶ κυσὶ οὐ λογίξομαι. ἀνδρῶν δὲ ἐ ἐουσέων τοσου- 
+τέων μυριάδων, κάλλεός τε εἵνεκα καὶ μεγάθεος 
+οὐδεὶς αὐτῶν ἀξιονικότερος ἦν αὐτοῦ Ξέρξεω ἔχειν 
+τοῦτο τὸ κράτος. 
+
+188. Ὁ δὲ δὴ ναυτικὸς στρατὸς ἐπείτε ὁρμηθεὶς 
+ἔπλεε καὶ κατέσχε τῆς Μαγνησίης χώρης ἐς τὸν 
+αἰγιαλὸν τὸν μεταξὺ Κασθαναίης τε πόλιος ἐόντα 
+καὶ Σηπιάδος ἀκτῆς, αἱ μὲν δῆ πρῶται τῶν νεῶν 
+ὅρμεον πρὸς γ γῇ, ἄλλαι Ò ἐπ᾽ ἐκείνῃσι. ἐπ᾽ ἀγκυρέων' 
+ἅτε γὰρ τοῦ αἰγιαλοῦ ἐόντος οὐ μεγάλου, πρό- 
+κροσσαι ὁρμέοντο ἐς πόντον καὶ ἐπὶ ὀκτὼ νέας. 
+ταύτην μὲν τὴν εὐφρόνην οὕτω, ἅμα δὲ ὄρθρῳ ἐξ 
+
+αἰθρίης τε καὶ νηνεμίης τῆς θαλάσσης δεσάσης 
+ἐπέπεσέ σφι χειμών τε μέγας καὶ πολλὸς ἄνεμος 
+ἀπηλιώτης, τὸν δὴ Ἑλλησποντίην καλέουσι οἱ 
+περὶ ταῦτα τὰ χωρία οἰκημένοι. ὅσοι μέν νυν 
+αὐτῶν αὐξόμενον ἔμαθον. τὸν ἄνεμον καὶ τοῖσι 
+οὕτω εἶχε ὅρμου, οἳ δ᾽ ἔφθησαν τὸν χειμῶνα ἆνα- 
+σπάσαντες τὰς νέας, καὶ αὐτοί τε περιῆσαν καὶ αἱ 
+
+
+1 The figure is wrong. Reckoning 48 choenixes to the 
+
+
+504 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 187—188 
+
+
+of the beasts of draught and burden, and the Indian 
+dogs that were with the host, could any one tell the 
+number, so many they were. Wherefore it is to me 
+no marvelthat some of the streams of water ran dry ; 
+rather I marvel how there were provisions sufficient 
+for so many tens of thousands; for calculation shows 
+me, that if each man received one choenix of wheat 
+a day and no more, there would be every day a full 
+tale of eleven hundred thousand and three hundred 
+and forty bushels;! and in this I take no account of 
+what was for the women and eunuchs and beasts of 
+draught and dogs. Of all those tens of thousands 
+of men, for goodliness and stature there was not one 
+worthier than Xerxes himself to hold that command. 
+
+188. The fleet having put to sea and come to the 
+strand of Magnesia which is between the town of 
+Casthanaea and the Sepiad headland, the first comers 
+of the ships lay close to the land, and others outside 
+them at anchor; for the strand being of no great 
+length, they lay eight ships deep, their prows 
+pointing seaward. So it was with them for that 
+night; but at dawn, after clear and calm weather, 
+the sea began to boil, and there brake upon them a 
+great storm and a strong east wind, that wind which 
+the people of that country call the Hellespontian. 
+As many of them as noted the wind's rising, or so lay 
+shat this could be done, hauled their ships ashore 
+tre the storm came, and thereby saved themselves 
+
+
+nedimnus, Herodotus has of course divided 5,283,220 by 48. 
+Che right quotient is 110,0677;. 5,280,000 divided by 48 
+produces 110,000; 3220 divided by 48 leaves a dividend, 
+iol the first stage of division, of 340, and this for some 
+explained reason Herodotus has added to the quotient. 
+]he medimnus is the chief Attic unit for dry measure ; said 
+b be the equivalent of six gallons. 
+
+
+999 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+νέες αὐτῶν ὅσας δὲ τῶν νεῶν μεταρσίας ἔλαβε, 
+τὰς μὲν ἐξέφερε πρὸς Ἴπνους καλεομένους τοὺς ἐν 
+Πηλίῳ, τὰς δὲ ἐς τὸν αἰγιαλόν: αἳ δὲ περὶ αὐτὴν 
+τὴν Σηπιάδα περιέπιπτον, ai δὲ ἐς Μελίβοιαν 
+πόλιν, αἳ δὲ ἐς Κασθαναίην ἐξεβράσσοντο' ἦν τε 
+τοῦ χειμῶνος χρῆμα ἀφόρητον. 
+
+189. Λέγεται δὲ λόγος ὡς ᾿Αθηναῖοι τὸν Βορέην 
+ἐκ θεοπροπίου ἐπεκαλέσαντο, ἐλθόντος σφι ἄλλου 
+χρηστηρίου τὸν γαμβρὸν ἐπίκουρον καλέσασθαι. 
+Βορέης δὲ κατὰ τὸν Ἑλλήνων λόγον ἔχει γυναῖκα 
+᾿Αττικήν, Ὡρειθυίην τὴν ᾿Ερεχθέος. κατὰ δὴ τὸ 
+κῆδος τοῦτο οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι, ὡς φάτις ὅρμηται, 
+συμβαλλόμενοι σφίσι τὸν Βορέην γαμβρὸν εἶναι, 
+ναυλοχέοντες τῆς Εὐβοίης ἐν Χαλκίδι ὡς ἔμαθον 
+αὐξόμενον τὸν χειμῶνα ἢ καὶ πρὸ τούτου, ἐθύοντό 
+τε καὶ ἐπεκαλέοντο τόν τε Βορέην καὶ τὴν Ὥρει- 
+θυίην τιμωρῆσαι σφίσι καὶ διαφθεῖραι τῶν βαρ- 
+βάρων τὰς νέας, ὡς καὶ πρότερον περὶ "Αθων. 
+εἰ μέν νυν διὰ ταῦτα τοῖσι βαρβάροισι ὁρμέουσι 
+Βορέης ἐ ἐπέπεσε, οὐκ ἔχω εἰπεῖν" οἱ δ᾽ ὧν ᾿Αθηναῖοι 
+σφίσι λέγουσι Βοηθήσαντα τὸν Βορέην πρότε- 
+ρον καὶ τότε ἐκεῖνα κατεργάσασθαι, καὶ ἱρὸν 
+ἀπελθόντες Βορέω ἱδρύσαντο παρὰ ποταμὸν 
+Ἰλισσόν. 
+
+190. Ἐν τούτῳ τῷ πόνῳ νέας οἳ ἐλαχίστας 
+λέγουσι διαφ θαρῆναι τετρακοσιέων οὐκ ἐλάσσονας 
+ἄνδρας τε ἀναριθμήτους χρημάτων ` TE πλῆθοε 
+ἄφθονον. ὥστε ᾿Αμεινοκλέι τῷ Κρητίνεω ἀνδρ 
+Μάγνητι γηοχέοντι περὶ Σηπιάδα μεγάλως T 
+ναυηγίη αὕτη ἐγένετο χρηστή' ὃς πολλὰ μὲν χρύ. 
+σεα ποτήρια ὑστέρῳ χρόνῳ ἐκβρασσόμενα ἀνείλετι 
+πολλὰ δὲ ἀργύρεα, θησαυρούς τε τῶν Περσέων, 
+506 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 188-190 
+
+
+and the ships ; but the ships that were caught at sea 
+were driven some on the rocks of Pelion called 
+Ovens, and some on the beach; others were wrecked 
+on the Sepiad headland itself, and others cast up at 
+the town of Meliboea, or at Casthanaea. In truth 
+the storm was past all bearing. 
+
+189. There is a tale that the Athenians at an 
+oracles bidding prayed to Boreas to aid them, 
+. another divination having been sent them that they 
+should call for help to their son-in-law; the Greek 
+story makes Boreas the husband of an Attic wife, 
+Orithyia daughter of Erechtheus; by reason of which 
+kinship the Athenians, if the tale current is to be | 
+believed, inferred that Boreas was their son-in-law, 
+and when at their station of Chalcis they perceived 
+that the storm was rising, then (or mayhap before 
+that) they offered sacrifice and called on Boreas and 
+Orithyia to aid them and destroy the foreigners’ 
+ships, even as before on the coast of Athos. Now 
+if this was the cause that the wind Boreas assailed 
+the foreigners, I cannot tell; however it be, the 
+Athenians say that Boreas came to their aid before 
+and that the present effect was of his achieving; and 
+when they went home they built a temple of Boreas 
+by the river Ilissus. 
+
+190. In that stress there perished by the least 
+reckoning not fewer than four hundred ships, and 
+men innumerable and a great plenty of substance; 
+insomuch, that Aminocles son of Cretines, a Magne- 
+sian who held land about Sepias, was greatly 
+benefited by that shipwreck; for he presently 
+gathered many drinking-cups of gold and 'silver 
+that were cast ashore, and he found Persian treasures, 
+
+
+507 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+εὗρε, ἄλλα τε ἄφατα Χρήματα περιεβάλετο. 
+ἀλλ᾽ ὃ μὲν τἆλλα οὐκ εὐτυχέων εὑρήμασι, μέγα 
+πλούσιος ἐγένετο ἦν γάρ τις καὶ τοῦτον ἄχαρις 
+συμφορὴ λυπεῦσα παιδοφόνος. 
+
+191. Σιταγωγῶν δὲ ὁλκάδων καὶ τῶν ἄλλων 
+πλοίων διαφθειρομένων οὐκ ἐπῆν ἀριθμός. ὥστε 
+δείσαντες οἱ στρατηγοὶ τοῦ ναυτικοῦ στρατοῦ μή 
+die κεκακωμένοισι ἐπιθέωνται οἱ Θεσσαλοί, ἕρκος 
+
+λὸν ἐκ τῶν ναυηγίων περιεβάλοντο" ἡμέρας 
+γὰρ δὴ ἐχείμαξε τρεῖς. τέλος δὲ ἔ ἔντομά τε ποιεῦντες 
+καὶ καταείδοντες Ὑόησι οἱ Μάγοι τῷ ἀνέμῳ, πρός 
+τε τούτοισι καὶ τῇ Θέτι καὶ τῇσι Νηρηίσι θύοντες, 
+ἔπαυσαν τετάρτῃ ἡμέρῃ, 7) ἄλλως κως αὐτὸς ἐθέλων 
+ἐκόπασε. τῇ δὲ Θέτι ἔθυον πυθόμενοι παρὰ τῶν 
+Ἰώνων τὸν λόγον. ὡς ἐκ τοῦ χώρου τούτου 
+ἁρπασθείη ἡ ὑπὸ Πηλέος, εἴη τε ἅπασα ἡ ἀκτὴ ἡ 
+Σηπιὰς ἐ ἐκείνης τε καὶ τῶν ἀλλέων Νηρηίδων. 
+
+192. Ὃ μὲν δὴ τετάρτῃ ἡμέρῃ ἐπέπαυτο’ τοῖσι 
+δὲ "Ελλησι οἱ ἡμεροσκόποι ἀπὸ τῶν. ἄκρων τῶν 
+Εὐβοϊκῶν καταδραμόντες δευτέρῃ ἡ ἡμέρῃ ἀπ ᾿ ἧς ὁ ὁ 
+χειμὼν ὁ πρῶτος ἐγένετο, ἐσήμαινον πάντα τὰ 
+γενόμενα περὶ τὴν ναυηγίην. oi δὲ ὡς ἐπύθοντο, 
+]Ροσειδέωνι σωτῆρι εὐξάμενοι καὶ σπονδὰς προ- 
+χέαντες τὴν ταχίστην ὀπίσω ἠπείγοντο ἐπὶ τὸ 
+᾿Αρτεμίσιον, ἐλπίσαντες ὀλίγας τινάς σφι ἀντι- 
+ξόους ἔσεσθαι νέας. 
+
+193. Ot μὲν δὴ τὸ δεύτερον ἐλθόντες περὶ τὸ 
+᾿Αρτεμίσιον ἐναυλόχεον, Ποσειδέωνος σωτῆρος 
+ἐπωνυμίην ἀπὸ τούτου ἔτι καὶ ἐς τόδε νομίξοντες. 
+οἱ δὲ βάρβαροι, ὡς ἐπαύσατο τε ὁ ἄνεμος καὶ τὸ 
+κῦμα ἔστρωτο, κατασπάσαντες τὰς νέας ἔπλεον 
+παρὰ τὴν ἤπειρον, κάμψαντες δὲ τὴν ἄκρην τῆς 
+508 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 190-193 
+
+
+and won unspeakable wealth besides. Yet though 
+luck greatly enriched him he was not in all things 
+fortunate, for even he was afflicted by a grievous 
+mischance in the slaying of his son. 
+
+191. The corn-bearing ships of merchandise and 
+other craft destroyed were past all counting ; where- 
+fore the admirals of the fleet, fearing lest the 
+Thessalians should set upon them in their evil 
+plight, built a high fence of the wreckage for their 
+protection. For the storm lasted for three days; 
+and at last the Magians, by using victims and 
+wizards’ spells on the wind, and by sacrificing also 
+to Thetis. and the Nereids, did make it to cease 
+on the fourth day, or mayhap it was not of their 
+doing but of itself that it abated. Το Thetis they 
+sacrificed after hearing from the Ionians the story 
+how that it was from this country that she had been 
+carried off by Peleus, and all the Sepiad headland 
+belonged to her and the other daughters of Nereus. 
+
+192. So on the fourth day the storm ceased ; and 
+the watchers ran down from the heights of Euboea 
+on the second day after its beginning and told the 
+Greeks all the story of the shipwreck ; who, hearing 
+this, offered prayer and libation to Poseidon their 
+deliverer, and made all speed back to Artemisium, 
+supposing that they would find but few ships to with- 
+stand them. 
+
+193. So they came back once more and lay off 
+Artemisium ; and ever since then to this day they 
+have called Poseidon by the title of Deliverer. The 
+foreigners, when the wind ceased and the waves no 
+more ran high, put to sea and coasted along the 
+
+
+1 ἄλλα τε [χρύσεα] Stein. 
+509 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Μαγνησίης ἰθέαν ἔπλεον ἐς τὸν κόλπον τὸν ἐπὶ 
+Παγασέων φέροντα, ἔστι δὲ χῶρος ἐν τῷ κόλπῳ 
+τούτῳ τῆς Μαγνησίης, ἔνθα λέγεται τὸν Ἡ ρακλέα 
+καταλειφθῆναι t ὑπὸ Ἰήσονος τε καὶ τῶν συνεταίρων 
+ἐκ τῆς ᾿Αργοῦς ἐπ᾽ ὕδωρ πεμφθέντα, εὖτ᾽ ἐπὶ τὸ 
+κῶας ἔπλεον ἐς Alav τὴν Κολχίδα' ἐνθεῦτεν γὰρ 
+ἔμελλον ὑδρευσάμενοι ἐς τὸ πέλαγος ἀφήσειν. 
+ἐπὶ τούτου δὲ τῷ χώρῳ οὔνομα γέγονε ᾿Αφέται. 
+ἐν τούτῳ ὧν ὅρμον οἱ Ἐέρξεω ἐποιεῦντο. 
+
+194. Πεντεκαίδεκα δὲ τῶν νεῶν τουτέων ἔτυχόν 
+τε ὕσταται πολλὸν ἐξαναχθεῖσαι καί κως κατεῖδον 
+τὰς ἐπ᾽ ᾿Αρτεμισίῳ τῶν Ἑλλήνων νέας. ἔδοξάν 
+τε δὴ τὰς σφετέρας εἶναι οἱ βάρβαροι καὶ πλέοντες 
+ἐσέπεσον ἐς τοὺς πολεμίους τῶν ἐστρατήγεε ὁ 
+ἀπὸ Κύμης τῆς Αἰολίδος ὕπαρχος Σανδώκης ὁ 
+Θαμασίου τὸν δὴ πρότερον τούτων βασιλεὺς 
+Δαρεῖος ἐπ᾽ αἰτίῃ τοιῇδε λαβὼν ἀνεσταύρωσε 
+ἐόντα τῶν βασιληίων δικαστέων. ὁ Σανδώκης 
+ἐπὶ χρήμασι ἄδικον δίκην ἐδίκασε. ἀνακρεμα- 
+σθέντος ὧν αὐτοῦ, λογιζόμενος ὃ Δαρεῖος εὗρέ οἱ 
+πλέω ἀγαθὰ τῶν ἁμαρτημάτων πεποιημένα ἐς 
+οἶκον τὸν βασιλήιον' εὑρὼν δὲ τοῦτο o Δαρεῖος, 
+καὶ γνοὺς ὡς ταχύτερα αὐτὸς ἡ σοφώτερα ἐργα- 
+στο εἴη, ἔλυσε. βασιλέα μὲν 5 Δαρεῖον οὕτω 
+
+διαφυγὼν μὴ ἀπολέσθαι περιῆν, τότε δὲ ἐς τοὺς 
+"Ελληνας καταπλώσας ἔμελλε οὐ τὸ δεύτερον 
+διαφυγὼν ἔσεσθαι" ὡς γὰρ σφέας εἶδον προσ- 
+πλέοντας οἱ "Ελληνες, μαθόντες αὐτῶν τὴν yi- 
+νομένην ἁμαρτάδα, ἐπαναχθέντες εὐπετέως σφέας 
+εἷλον. 
+
+195. Ἐν τουτέων μιῇ ᾿Αρίδωλις πλέων ἥλω, 
+τύραννος ᾿Αλαβάνδων τῶν ἐν Καρίη, ἐν ἑτέρῃ δὲ ὁ 
+510 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 193-195 
+
+
+mainland, and turning the headland of Magnesia ran 
+straight into the gulf that stretches toward Pagasae. 
+There is a place on this gulf in Magnesia, where, it 
+is said, Heracles was sent for water and so left behind 
+by Jason and his comrades of the Argo, when they 
+were sailing to Aea in Colchis for the fleece; for 
+their purpose was to draw water thence and so 
+launch out to sea; and thence that place has been 
+called Aphetae.! Here Xerxes’ men made their 
+anchorage. 
+
+191. Fifteen of those ships had put to sea a long 
+time after all the rest, and it chanced that they 
+sighted the Greek ships off Artemisium. Supposing 
+these to be their own fleet, the foreigners held on 
+their course into the midst of their enemies. Their 
+captain was the viceroy from Cyme in Aeolia, San- 
+doces son of Thamasius; he had once before this, 
+being then one of the king’s judges, been taken and 
+crucified by Darius because he had given unjust 
+judgment for a bribe. But Sandoces having been 
+hung on the cross, Darius found on a reckoning that 
+his good services to the royal house were more than 
+_ his offences; whereat the king perceived that he had 
+acted with more haste than wisdom, and so set 
+Sandoces free. Thus he escaped with his life from 
+being put to death by Darius; but now that he was 
+borne into the midst of the Greeks he was not to 
+escape a second time; for when the Greeks saw the 
+Persians bearing down on them they perceived their 
+mistake, and put to sea and easily took them captive. 
+
+195. They took in one of these ships Aridolis, the 
+despot of Alabanda in Caria, and in another the 
+
+
+1 More probably, the name (from ἀφιήμι, to send off or 
+launch) gave rise to the legend. 
+
+
+511 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Πάφιος στρατηγὸς Πενθύλος ὁ Δημονόου, ὃς ἦγε 
+μὲν δυώδεκα νέας ἐκ Ἠάφου, ἀποβαλὼν δὲ σφέων 
+τὰς ἔνδεκα τῷ χειμῶνι τῷ γενομένῳ. κατὰ Σηπιάδα, 
+μιῇ τῇ περιγενομένῃ καταπλέων ἐπ᾽ ᾿Αρτεμίσιον 
+ἥλω, τούτους οἱ “Ελληνες ἐξιστορήσαντες τὰ 
+ἐβούλοντο πυθέσθαι ἀπὸ τῆς Ξέρξεω στρατιῆς, 
+ἀποπέμπουσι δεδεμένους ἐ ἐς τὸν Κορινθίων ἰσθμόν. 
+
+190. Ὁ μὲν δὴ ναυτικὸς ὁ τῶν βαρβάρων 
+στρατός, πάρεξ τῶν πεντεκαίδεκα νεῶν τῶν εἶπον 
+
+ανδώκεα στρατηγέειν, ἀπίκοντο ἐς ᾿Αφέτας. 
+Ἐέρξης δὲ καὶ ὁ πεξζὸς πορευθεὶς διὰ Θεσσαλίης 
+καὶ ᾿Αχαιίης ἐσβεβληκὼς ἦν καὶ δὴ τριταῖος ἐς 
+Μηλιέας, ἐν Θεσσαλίῃ. μὲν ἅμιλλαν ποιησάμενος 
+ἵππων τῶν τε ἑωυτοῦ ἀποπειρώμενος καὶ τῆς 
+Θεσσαλίης | ἵππου, πυθόμενος ὡς ἀρίστη εἴη τῶν 
+ἐν Ἕλλησι, ἔνθα δὴ αἱ Ἑλληνίδες ἵ ἵπποι ἐλείποντο 
+πολλόν. τῶν μέν νυν ἐν Θεσσαλίῃ ποταμῶν 
+Ὀνόχωνος μοῦνος οὐκ ἀπέχρησε τῇ στρατιῇ τὸ 
+ῥέεθρον πινόμενος" τῶν δὲ ἐν ᾿Αχαιίῃ. ποταμῶν 
+ῥεόντων οὐδὲ ὅστις μέγιστος αὐτῶν ἐστι Ἠπι- 
+δανός, οὐδὲ οὗτος ἀντέσχε εἰ μὴ φλαύρως. 
+
+197. Ἔς "AXov δὲ τῆς ᾿Αχαιίης ἀπικομένῳ 
+Ξέρξῃ οἱ κατηγεμόνες τῆς ὁδοῦ βουλόμενοι τὸ 
+πᾶν ἐξηγέεσθαι ἔλεγόν οἱ ἐπιχώριον λόγον, τὰ 
+περὶ τὸ ἱρὸν τοῦ Λαφυστίου Διός, ὡς ᾿Αθάμας ὁ 
+Λἰόλου ἐμηχανήσατο Φρίξῳ μόρον σὺν ᾿Ινοῖ 
+βουλεύσας, μετέπειτα δὲ ὦ ὡς ἐκ θεοπροπίου ᾿Αχαιοὶ 
+προτιθεῖσι. τοῖσι ἐκείνου ἀπογόνοισι ἀέθλους 
+τοιούσδε" ὃ ὃς ἂν ᾖ τοῦ γένεος τούτου πρεσβύτατος, 
+τούτῳ ἐπιτάξαντες ἔργεσθαι τοῦ Ἀηίτου αὐτοὶ 
+φυλακὰς ἔχουσι. λήιτον δὲ καλέουσι τὸ πρυ- 
+τανήιον οἱ Αχαιοί. ἣν δὲ ἐσέλθῃ, οὐκ ἔστι ὅκως 
+512 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 195-197 
+
+
+Paphian captain Penthylus son of Demonous; of 
+twelve ships that he had brought from Paphos he 
+had lost eleven in the storm off the Sepiad headland, 
+and was in the one that remained when he was taken 
+as he bore down on Artemisium. Having questioned 
+these men and learnt what they desired to know of 
+Xerxes’ armament, the Greeks sent them away to 
+the isthmus of Corinth in bonds. 
+
+196. So the foreign fleet, all but the fifteen ships 
+whereof, as I have said, Sandoces was captain, came 
+to Aphetae. Xerxes and his land army journeyed 
+through Thessaly and Achaea, and it was three days 
+since he had entered Malis. In Thessaly he made a 
+race for his own horses, wherein he also tried the 
+mettle of the Thessalian horse, having heard that it 
+was the best in Hellas; and the Greek horses were 
+far outpaced. Of the Thessalian rivers, the Ono- 
+chonus was the only one that could not give water 
+enough for his army's drinking. But in Achaea, even 
+the greatest river there, the Apidanus,! gave out, all 
+but a sorry remnant. 
+
+197. When Xerxes was come to Alus in Achaea, 
+his guides, desiring to inform him of all they knew, 
+told him the story that is related in that country 
+concerning the worship of Laphystian Zeus: how 
+Athamas son of Aeolus plotted Phrixus’ death with 
+Ino, and further, how the Achaeans by an oracle’s 
+bidding compel Phrixus’ posterity to certain tasks: 
+namely, they bid the eldest of that family forbear to 
+enter their town hall (which the Achaeans call the 
+People’s House),? and themselves keep watch there ; 
+
+
+! The Apidanus and Enipeus unite; the whole stream, a 
+
+
+tributary of the Peneus, is sometimes called Apidanus and 
+sometimes Enipeus. 2 From λεώς or Anés. 
+
+
+VOL. III, LL 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἔξεισι πρὶν ἢ θύσεσθαι éan: ὥς T ἔτι πρὸς 
+τούτοισι πολλοὶ ἤδη τούτων τῶν μελλόντων θύ- 
+σεσθαι δείσαντες οἴχοντο ἀποδράντες ἐς ἄλλην 
+χώρην, χρόνου δὲ προϊόντος ὀπίσω κατελθόντες 
+jv ἁλίσκωνται ἐστέλλοντο ἐς τὸ πρυτανήιον' ὡς 
+θύεταί τε ἐξηγέοντο στέμμασι πᾶς πυκασθεὶς καὶ 
+ὡς σὺν πομπῇ ἐξαχθείς. ταῦτα δὲ πάσχουσι οἱ 
+Κυτισσώρου τοῦ «Φρίξου παιδὸς ἀπόγονοι, διότι 
+καθαρμὸν τῆς χώρης ποιευμένων ᾿Αχαιῶν ἐκ 
+θεοπροπίου ᾿Αθάμαντα τὸν Αἰόλου καὶ μελλόντων 
+μιν θύειν ἀπικόμενος οὗτος ὁ Κυτίσσωρος ἐξ Αἴης 
+τῆς Κολχίδος ἐρρύσατο, ποιήσας δὲ τοῦτο τοῖσι 
+ἐπιγενομένοισι ἐξ ἑωυτοῦ μῆνιν τοῦ θεοῦ ἐνέβαλε. 
+Eiép£ns δὲ ταῦτα ἀκούσας ὡς κατὰ τὸ ἄλσος 
+ἐγίνετο, αὐτός τε ἔργετο αὐτοῦ καὶ TH στρατιῇ 
+πάσῃ παρήγγειλε, τῶν τε ᾿Αθάμαντος ἀπογόνων 
+τὴν οἰκίην ὁμοίως καὶ τὸ τέμενος ἐσέβετο. 
+
+198. Tatra μὲν τὰ ἐν Θεσσαλίη καὶ τὰ ἐν 
+᾿Αχαιίῃ' ἀπὸ δὲ τούτων τῶν χώρων ἤιε ἐς τὴν 
+Μηλίδα παρὰ κόλπον θαλάσσης, ἐν τῷ ἄμπωτίς 
+τε καὶ ῥηχίη ἀνὰ πᾶσαν ἡμέρην γίνεται. περὶ δὲ 
+τὸν κόλπον τοῦτον ἐστὶ χῶρος πεδινός, τῇ μὲν εὐρὺς 
+τῇ δὲ καὶ κάρτα στεινὸς" περὶ δὲ τὸν χῶρον ὄρεα 
+ὑψηλὰ καὶ ἄβατα περικληίει πᾶσαν τὴν Μηλίδα 
+γῆν, Τρηχίνιαι πέτραι καλεόμεναι. πρώτη μέν 
+νυν πόλις ἐστὶ ἐν τῷ κόλπῳ ἰόντι ἀπὸ ᾿Αχαιΐης 
+᾿Αντικύρη, παρ᾽ ἣν Σπερχειὸς ποταμὸς ῥέων ἐξ 
+᾿Ενιήνων ἐς θάλασσαν ἐκδιδοῖ. ἀπὸ δὲ τούτου 
+
+
+1 The legend, in its main features, originates in the cult of 
+* Zeus Laphystius," a tribal god who, like the Jehovah of 
+the Ο.Τ, and the Moloch and Melqart of the Phoenicians, 
+has a right to all first-born, especially of the priestly house. 
+
+
+514 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 197-198 
+
+
+if he enter, he may not come out, save only to be 
+sacrificed; and further also, how many of those 
+that were to be sacrificed had fled away in fear to 
+another country, but if they returned back at a later 
+day and were taken, they had been brought into the 
+town hall; and the guides showed Xerxes how the 
+man is sacrificed, with fillets covering him all over 
+and a procession to lead him forth. It is the 
+descendants of Phrixus' son Cytissorus who are thus 
+dealt with, because when the Achaeans by an oracle's 
+bidding made Athamas son of Aeolus a scapegoat for 
+their country and were about to sacrifice him, this 
+Cytissorus came from Aea in Colchis and delivered 
+him, but thereby brought the god's wrath on his own 
+posterity. Hearing all this, Xerxes when he came 
+to the temple grove forbore to enter it himself and 
+bade all his army do likewise, holding the house and 
+the precinct of Athamas’ descendants alike in 
+reverence.! 
+
+198. These were Xerxes' doings in Thessaly and 
+Achaea; whence he came into Malis along a gulf of 
+the sea, in which the tide ebbs and flows daily.? 
+There is low-lying ground about this gulf, sometimes 
+wide and sometimes very narrow ; and about it stand 
+mountains high and inaccessible, enclosing the whole 
+of Malis, called the Rocks of Trachis. Now the first 
+town by the gulf on the way from Achaea is Anticyra, 
+near to which the river Spercheus flows from the 
+country of the Enieni and issues into the sea. About 
+
+
+In time human sacrifice is avoided by the substitution of a 
+ram ; but even then the first-born child must leave the country. 
+
+3 Tidal movement is rare in the Mediterranean. But there 
+is & strong ebb and flood in the Euripus, which is not far 
+from the Malian gulf. 
+
+
+515 
+LL 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+διὰ εἴκοσί κου σταδίων ἄλλος ποταμὸς τῷ οὔνομα 
+κεῖται Δύρας, τὸν Βοηθέοντα τῷ Ἡρακλέι καιο- 
+μένφ λόγος ἐστὶ ἀναφανῆναι. ἀπὸ δὲ τούτου δι 
+ἄλλων εἴκοσι σταδίων ἄλλος ποταμός ἐστι ὃς 
+καλέεται Μέλας. 
+
+199. Τρηχὶς δὲ πόλις ἀπὸ τοῦ Μέλανος τούτου 
+ποταμοῦ πέντε στάδια ἀπέχει. ταύτῃ δὲ καὶ eù- 
+ρύτατον ἐστὶ πάσης τῆς χώρης ταύτης ἐκ τῶν 
+ὀρέων ἐς θάλασσαν, κατ ἃ Τρηχὶς πεπόλισται: 
+δισχίλιά τε γὰρ καὶ δισμύρια πλέθρα τοῦ πεδίου 
+ἐστί. τοῦ δὲ Speos TO περικλήΐει τὴν γῆν τὴν 
+Τρηχινίην ἐστὶ διασφὰξ πρὸς μεσαμβρίην 1ρηχῖ- 
+vos, ya δὲ τῆς διασφάγος ᾿Ασωπὸς ποταμὸς ῥέει 
+παρὰ τὴν ὑπωρέην τοῦ ὄρεος. 
+
+200. "Ἔστι δὲ ἄλλος Φοῖνιξ ποταμὸς οὐ μέγας 
+πρὸς μεσαμβρίην τοῦ ᾿Ασωποῦ, ὃς ἐκ τῶν ὀρέων 
+τούτων ῥέων ἐς τὸν ᾿Ασωπὸν ἐκδιδοῖ. κατὰ δὲ 
+τὸν Φοίνικα ποταμὸν στεινότατον ἐστί' ἁμαξιτὸς 
+γὰρ μούνη δέδμηται. ἀπὸ δὲ τοῦ Φοίνικος ποταμοῦ 
+πεντεκαίδεκα στάδια ἐστὶ ἐς Θερμοπύλας. ἐν δὲ 
+τῷ μεταξὺ Φοίνικος ποταμοῦ καὶ Θερμοπυλέων 
+κώμη τε ἐστὶ τῇ οὔνομα ᾿Ανθήλη κεῖται, Tap ἣν 
+δὴ παραρρέων ὁ ᾿Ασωπὸς ἐς θάλασσαν ἐκδιδοῖ, 
+καὶ χῶρος περὶ αὐτὴν εὐρύς, ἐν τῷ Δήμητρός τε 
+ἱρὸν ᾽Αμϕικτυονίδος ἵδρυται καὶ ἕδραι εἰσὶ ᾽Αμϕι- 
+κτύοσι καὶ αὐτοῦ τοῦ ᾽Αμϕικτύονος ἱρόν. 
+
+201. Βασιλεὺς μὲν δὴ Ξέρξης ἐστρατοπεδεύετο 
+τῆς Μηλίδος ἐν τῇ Τρηχινίῃ, οἱ δὲ 5) Ἕλληνες 
+ἐν τῇ διόδῳ. καλέεται δὲ ὁ χῶρος οὗτος ὑπὸ μὲν 
+
+
+1 This must be a measure not of length but of superficial 
+extent: more than 5000 acres. 
+
+
+516 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 198-201 
+
+
+twenty furlongs from that river is another named 
+Dyras, which is said to have risen from the ground 
+to aid Heracles against the fire that consumed him; 
+and twenty furlongs again from that there is another 
+river, called the Black river. 
+
+.199. The town of Trachis is five furlongs distant 
+from this Black river. Here is the greatest width 
+in all this region between the sea and the hills 
+whereon Trachis stands; for the plain is two million 
+and two hundred thousand feet in extent.! In the 
+mountains that hem in the Trachinian land there is 
+a ravine to the south of Trachis, wherethrough flows 
+the river Asopus past the lower slopes of the 
+mountains. 
+
+200. There is another river south of the Asopus, 
+the Phoenix, a little stream, that flows from those 
+mountains into the Asopus. Near this stream is the 
+narrowest place; there is but the space of a single 
+builded cart-way. Thermopylae is fifteen furlongs 
+distant from the river Phoenix. Between the river 
+and Thermopylae there is a village named Anthele, 
+past which the Asopus flows out into the sea, and 
+there is a wide space about it wherein stands a 
+temple of επ Demeter, and seats withal 
+for the Amphietyong and a temple of Amphictyon 
+himself. 
+
+201. King Xerxes, then, lay encamped in that 
+part of Malis which belongs to Trachis, and the 
+Greeks in the midst of the pass:? the place where 
+
+
+2 Lit. dwellers around: neighbouring tribes forming a 
+league, and sending representatives (Pylagori) to a confer- 
+ence held twice a year. 
+
+ὃ In the space between the eastern and western narrow 
+ἔσοδοι. 
+
+
+517 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+TÓV πλεόνων Ἑλλήνων Θερμοπύλαι, 0 ὑπὸ δὲ τῶν 
+ἐπιχωρίων καὶ περιοίκων Πύλαι. ἐστρατοπε- 
+δεύοντο μέν νυν ἑκάτεροι ἐν τούτοισι τοῖσι χωρί- 
+οισι, ἐπεκράτεε δὲ ὃ μὲν τῶν πρὸς Βορέην. ἄνεμον 
+ἐχόντων πάντων μέχρι Τρηχῖνος, οἳ δὲ τῶν πρὸς 
+νότον καὶ μεσαμβρίην φερόντων τὸ ἐπὶ ταύτης 
+τῆς ἠπείρου. 
+|... 202. Ἦσαν δὲ οἵδε Ἑλλήνων οἱ ὑπομένοντες 
+τὸν Πέρσην. ἐν τούτῳ τῷ χώρῳ, Σπαρτιητέων τε 
+τριηκόσιοι ὁπλῖται καὶ Τεγεητέων καὶ Μαντινέων 
+χίλιοι, ἡμίσεες ἑκατέρων, ἐξ Ὀρχομενοῦ τε τῆς 
+᾿Αρκαδίης εἴκοσι καὶ ἑκατόν, καὶ ἐκ τῆς λοιπῆς 
+᾿Αρκαδίης χίλιοι" τοσοῦτοι μὲν ᾿Αρκάδων, ἀπὸ 
+δὲ Κορίνθου τετρακόσιοι καὶ ἀπὸ Φλειοῦντος 
+διηκόσιοι καὶ Μυκηναίων. ὀγδώκοντα. οὗτοι μὲν 
+ἀπὸ Πελοποννήσου παρῆσαν, ἀπὸ δὲ Βοιωτῶν 
+Θεσπιέων τε ἑπτακόσιοι καὶ Θηβαίων τετρακόσιοι. 
+
+208. II pos τούτοισι ἐπίκλητοι ἐγένοντο Λοκροί 
+τε οἱ ᾿Οπούντιοι πανστρατιῇ καὶ Φωκέων χίλιοι. 
+αὐτοὶ γὰρ σφέας οἱ “Ελληνες ἐπεκαλέσαντο, λέ- 
+γοντες δι ἀγγέλων ὡς αὐτοὶ μὲν ἥκοιεν πρόδρομοι 
+τῶν ἄλλων, οἱ δὲ λοιποὶ τῶν συμμάχων προσ- 
+δόκιμοι πᾶσαν εἶεν ἡμέρην, ἡ θάλασσά τέ σφι 
+εἴη ἐν φυλακῇ i ὑπ᾽ ᾿Αθηναίων τε φρουρεομένη καὶ 
+Αἰγινητέων καὶ τῶν ἐς τὸν ναυτικὸν στρατὸν 
+ταχθέντων, καί σφι εἴη δεινὸν οὐδέν" οὐ γὰρ θεὸν 
+εἶναι τὸν ἐπιόντα ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα ἀλλ᾽ ἄνθρωπον, 
+εἶναι δὲ θνητὸν οὐδένα οὐδὲ ἔσεσθαι τῷ κακὸν ἐξ 
+ἀρχῆς γινομένῳ οὐ συνεμίχθη, τοῖσι δὲ μεγίστοισι 
+αὐτῶν μέγιστα. ὀφείλειν ὧν καὶ τὸν ἐπελαύνοντα, 
+
+
+518 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 201-203 
+
+
+they were is called by most of the Greeks Thermo- 
+pylae, but by the people of the country and their 
+neighbours Pylae. In these places, then, they lay 
+encamped, Xerxes being master of all that was north ! 
+of Trachis, and the Greeks of all that lay southward 
+towards this part of the mainland.? 
+
+202. The Greeks that awaited the Persian in that 
+place were these :—Of the Spartans, three hundred 
+men-at-arms; a thousand Tegeans and Mantineans, 
+half from each place; from Orchomenus in Arcadia 
+a hundred and twenty, and a thousand from the rest 
+of Arcadia; besides these Arcadians, four hundred 
+from Corinth, two hundred from Phlius, and eighty 
+Mycenaeans. These were they who had come from 
+Peloponnesus: from Boeotia, seven hundred Thespians 
+and four hundred Thebans. 
+
+203. Besides these the whole power ofthe Opuntian 
+Locrians and a thousand Phocians had been sum- 
+moned, and came. The Greeks had of their own 
+motion summoned these to their aid, telling them by 
+their messengers that they themselves had come for 
+an advance guard of the rest, that the coming of the 
+remnant of the allies was to be looked for every day, 
+and that the sea was strictly watched by them, being 
+guarded by the Athenians and Aeginetans and all 
+that were enrolled in the fleet; there was nought 
+(they said) for them to fear; for the invader of 
+Hellas was no god, but a mortal man, and there was 
+no mortal, nor ever would be, to whom at birth some 
+admixture of misfortune was not allotted ; the greater 
+the man, the greater the misfortune ; most surely then 
+he that marched against them, being but mortal, 
+
+
+1 West, properly speaking ; *southward" below should 
+be “ eastward.” 2 That is, Greece. 
+
+
+519 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὡς ἐόντα θνητόν, ἀπὸ τῆς δόξης πεσεῖν ἄν. οἳ δὲ 
+ταῦτα πυνθανόμενοι. ἐβοήθεον ἐς τὴν Τρηχῖνα. 
+
+204. Τούτοισι ἡ σαν μέν νυν καὶ ἄλλοι στρατηγοὺ 
+κατὰ πόλιας ἑκάστων, ὁ δὲ θωμαξόµενος μάλιστα 
+καὶ παντὸς τοῦ στρατεύματος ἡγεόμενος Λακε- 
+δαιμόνιος ἡ ἦν Λεωνίδης ὁ ὁ Αναξανδρίδεω τοῦ Λέοντος 
+τοῦ Εὐρυκρατίδεω τοῦ ᾿Αναξάνδρου τοῦ Εὐρυκρά- 
+τεος τοῦ Πολυδώρου. τοῦ ᾿Αλκαμένεος τοῦ Ὁ Τηλέκλου 
+τοῦ ᾿Αρχέλεω. τοῦ Ἠγησίλεω τοῦ Δορύσσου τοῦ 
+Λεωβώτεω τοῦ Ἐχεστράτου τοῦ "Hos τοῦ Εὐρυ- 
+σθένεος τοῦ ᾿Δριστοδήμου τοῦ ᾿Αριστομάχου τοῦ 
+Κλεοδαίου τοῦ Ὕλλου τοῦ Ἡρακλέος, κτησάμενος 
+τὴν βασιληίην ἐ ἐν Σπάρτῃ ἐξ ἀπροσδοκήτου. 
+
+205. Διξῶν γάρ οἱ ἐόντων πρεσβυτέρων ἆδελ.- 
+φεῶν, Κλεομένεός᾽ τε καὶ Δωριέος, ἀπελήλατο τῆς 
+φροντίδος περὶ τῆς βασιληίης. ἀποθανόντος δὲ 
+Κλεομένεος ἄπαιδος ἔρσενος γόνου, Δωριέος τε 
+οὐκέτι ἐόντος ἀλλὰ τελευτήσαντος καὶ τούτου ἐν 
+Σικελίῃ, οὕτω δὴ ἐς Λεωνίδην ἀνέβαινε ἡ βασιληίη, 
+καὶ διότι πρότερος ἐγεγόνεε Κλεομβρότου (οὗτος 
+γὰρ ἦν νεώτατος ᾿Αναξανδρίδεω παῖς) καὶ δὴ καὶ 
+εἶχε Κλεομένεος θυγατέρα. ὃς τότε ῆιε ἐς Beppo- 
+πύλας ἐπιλεξάμενος. ἄν pas τε τοὺς κατεστεῶτας 
+τριηκοσίους καὶ τοῖσι ἐτύγχανον παῖδες ἐόντες" 
+παραλαβὼν δὲ ἀπίκετο καὶ Θηβαίων τοὺς ἐς τὸν 
+ἀριθμὸν λογισάμενος εἶπον, τῶν ἐστρατήγεε Λεον- 
+τιάδης ὁ Εὐρυμάχου. τοῦδε δὲ εἵνεκα τούτους 
+σπουδὴν ἐποιήσατο Λεωνίδης μούνους Ἑλλήνων 
+παραλαβεῖν, ὅτι σφέων μεγάλως κατηγόρητο μηδί- 
+
+
+1 The regular number of the royal body-guard, the so- 
+called ἱππεῖς. No other translation of this sentence than what 
+
+
+520 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 203-205 
+
+
+would be disappointed of his hope. Hearing that, the 
+Locrians and Phocians marched to aid the Greeks at 
+Trachis. 
+
+204. All these had their generals, each city its 
+own; but he that was most regarded and was leader 
+of the whole army was Leonidas of Lacedaemon, 
+whose descent was from Anaxandrides, Leon, Eury- 
+cratides, Anaxandrus, Eurycrates, Polydorus, Alca- 
+menes, Teleclus, Archelaus, Hegesilaus, Doryssus, 
+Leobotes, Echestratus, Agis, Eurysthenes, Aristode- 
+mus, Aristomachus, Cleodaeus, Hyllus, Heracles ; 
+who was king at Sparta, yet had not looked to be 
+such. 
+
+205. For since he had two elder brothers, Cleo- 
+menes and Dorieus, he had renounced all thought 
+of the kingship. But when Cleomenes died without 
+male issue, and Dorieus was dead too (having met 
+his end in Sicily), so it came about that the suc- 
+cession fell to Leonidas, because he was older than 
+Anaxandrides' youngest son Cleombrotus, and more- 
+over had Cleomenes' daughter to wife. He now 
+came to Thermopylae, with a picked force of the 
+customary three hundred,! and those that had sons; 
+and he brought with him too those Thebans whom 
+I counted among the number, whose general was 
+Leontiades son of Eurymachus. Leonidas was at pains 
+to bring these Thebans more than any other Greeks, 
+because they were constantly charged with favouring 
+
+
+I have given is possible; but if **those that had sons” are 
+added to the 300, this is inconsistent with the received 
+tradition that there were only 300 Spartans at Thermopylae. 
+There seems to be no explanation of the matter, except Dr. 
+Macan’s theory that Herodotus made a mistake. Of course 
+if ἐπιλεξάμενος could mean ‘‘selecting from," the difficulty 
+might be removed ; but I do not think it can. 
+
+
+521 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Ce" παρεκαλεε ὧν ἐς τὸν πόλεμον, θέλων εἰδέναι 
+εἴτε συμπέμψουσι εἴτε καὶ ἀπερέουσι ἐκ τοῦ 
+ἐμφανέος τὴν Ἑλλήνων συμμαχίην. ob δὲ àXXo- 
+φρονέοντες ἔ ἔπεμπον. 
+
+206. Τούτους μὲν τοὺς ἀμφὶ Λεωνίδην πρώτους 
+ἀπέπεμψαν Σπαρτιῆται, i ἵνα τούτους ὁρῶντες οἱ 
+ἄλλοι σύμμαχοι στρατεύωνται μηδὲ καὶ οὗτοι 
+μηδίσωσι, ἦν αὐτοὺς πυνθάνωνται ὑπερβαλλομέ- 
+νους' μετὰ δέ, Κάρνεια γάρ σφι ἦν ἐμποδών, 
+ἔμελλον ὁρτάσαντες καὶ φυλακὰς λιπόντες ἐν τῇ 
+Σπάρτῃ κατὰ τάχος βοηθέειν πανδημεί. ὣς δὲ 
+καὶ οἱ λοιποὶ τῶν συμμάχων ἐνένωντο καὶ αὐτοὶ 
+ἕτερα τοιαῦτα ποιήσειν" ἦν γὰρ κατὰ τὠυτὸ 
+Ὀλυμπιὰς τούτοισι τοῖσι πρήγμασι συμπεσοῦσα" 
+οὔκων δοκέοντες κατὰ τάχος οὕτω διακριθήσεσθαι 
+τὸν ἐν Θερμοπύλῃσι πόλεμον ἔπεμπον τοὺς προ- 
+δρόμους. 
+
+207. Οὗτοι μὲν δὴ οὕτω διενένωντο ποιήσειν" 
+οἱ δὲ ἐν Θερμοπύλῃσι ' Ελληνες, ἐπειδὴ πέλας 
+ἐγένετο τῆς ἐσβολῆς ὁ Πέρσης, καταρρωδέοντες 
+ἐβουλεύοντο περὶ ἀπαλλαγῆς. τοῖσι μέν νυν 
+ἄλλοισι Πελοποννησίοισι ἐδόκεε ἐλθοῦσι ἐς Πελο- 
+πὀννησον τὸν Ἰσθμὸν ë ἔχειν ἐν φυλακῆ' Λεωνίδης 
+δέ, Φωκέων καὶ Δοκρῶν περισπε χεόντων τῇ 
+γνώμῃ ταύτη, αὐτοῦ τε μένειν ἐψηφίξετο πέμπειν 
+τε ἀγγέλους ἐς τὰς πόλιας κελεύοντάς σφι ἐπι- 
+Βοηθέειν, ὡς ἐόντων αὐτῶν ὀλίγων στρατὸν τὸν 
+Μήδων ἀλέξασθαι. 
+
+208, Ταῦτα βουλευομένων σφέων, ἔπεμπε 
+Ἐέρξης κατάσκοπον ἱππέα ἰδέσθαι ὁκόσοι εἰσὶ 
+
+
+522 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 205-208 
+
+
+the Persian part; therefore it was that he summoned 
+them to the war, because he desired to know whether 
+they would send their men with him or plainly refuse 
+the Greek alliance. They sent the men; but they 
+had other ends in view. 
+
+206. These, the men with Léonidas, were sent 
+before the rest by the Spartans, that by the sight of 
+them the rest of the allies might be moved to arm, 
+and not like others take the Persian part, as might 
+well be if they learnt that the Spartans were delaying; 
+and they purposed that later when they should have 
+kept the feast of the Carnea,! which wastheir present 
+hindrance, they would leave a garrison at Sparta and 
+march out with the whole of their force and with all 
+speed. ‘The rest of the allies had planned to do the 
+same likewise; for an Olympic festival fell due at 
+the same time as these doings; wherefore they sent 
+their advance guard, not supposing that the war at 
+Thermopylae would so speedily come to an issue. 
+
+207. Such had been their intent; but the Greeks 
+at Thermopylae, when the Persian drew near to the 
+entrance of the pass, began to lose heart and debate 
+whether to quit their post or no. The rest of the 
+Peloponnesians were for returning to the Peloponnese 
+and guarding the isthmus; but the Phocians and 
+Locrians were greatly incensed by this counsel, and 
+Leonidas gave his vote for remaining where they 
+were and sending messages to the cities to demand 
+‘aid, seeing that he and his were too few to beat off 
+the Median host. 
+
+208. While they thus debated, Xerxes sent a 
+mounted watcher to see how many they were and 
+
+
+1 The national festival in honour of Apollo, held in 
+September. 
+
+
+523 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+καὶ ὅ τι ποιέοιεν. ἀκηκόεε δὲ ἔτι ἐὼν ἐν Θεσσαλίῃ 
+ὡς ἁλισμένη εἴη ταύτῃ στρατιὴ ὀλίγη, καὶ τοὺς 
+ἡγεμόνας ὡς εἴησαν Λακεδαιμόνιοί τε καὶ Λεωνίδης 
+ἐὼν γένος Ἡρακλείδης. ὡς δὲ προσήλασε ὁ 
+ἱππεὺς πρὸς τὸ στρατόπεδον, ἐθηεῖτό τε καὶ 
+κατώρα may μὲν ov τὸ στρατόπεδον' τοὺς γὰρ 
+ἔσω τεταγμένους τοῦ τείχεος, τὸ ἀνορθώσαντες 
+εἶχον ἐν φυλακῇ, οὐκ οἷά τε ἦν κατιδέσθαι" ὃ 
+δὲ τοὺς ἔξω ἐμάνθανε, τοῖσι πρὸ τοῦ τείχεος τὰ 
+ὅπλα ἔκειτο' ἔτυχον δὲ τοῦτον τὸν χρόνον Λακε- 
+δαιμόνιοι ἔξω τεταγμένοι. τοὺς μὲν δὴ ὥρα 
+γυμναξομένους τῶν ἀνδρῶν, τοὺς δὲ τὰς κόμας 
+κτενιξομένους, ταῦτα δὴ θεώμενος ἐθώμαξε καὶ 
+τὸ πλῆθος ἐμάνθανε. μαθὼν δὲ πάντα ἀτρεκέως 
+ἀπήλαυνε ὀπίσω κατ ἡσυχίην" οὔτε γάρ τις 
+ἐδίωκε ἀλογίης τε ἐνεκύρησε πολλῆς" ἀπελθών 
+τε ἔλέγε πρὸς Ξέρξην τώ περ ὀπώπεε πάντα. 
+209. ᾿Ακούων δὲ Ξέρξης οὐκ εἶχε συμβαλέσθαι 
+τὸ ἐόν, ὅτι παρασκευάξοιντο ὡς ἀπολεύμενοί τε 
+καὶ ἀπολέοντες κατὰ δύναμιν’ AAN αὐτῷ γελοῖα 
+γὰρ ἐφαίνοντο ποιέειν, μετεπέμψατο Δημάρητον 
+τὸν ᾿Αρίστωνος ἐόντα ἐν τῷ στρατοπέδῳ" ἀπικό- 
+μενον δέ μιν εἰρώτα Ξέρξης ë ἕκαστα τούτων, ἐθέλων 
+μαθεῖν. τὸ ποιεύμενον πρὸς τῶν Λακεδαιμονίων. 
+ὃ δὲ εἶπε “ Ἤκουσας μὲν καὶ πρότερόν μευ, εὖτε 
+ὁρμῶμεν ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα, περὶ τῶν ἀνδρῶν. τού- 
+των, ἀκούσας δὲ γέλωτά µε ἔθευ λέγοντα τῇ περ 
+ὥρων ἐκβησόμενα πρήγματα ταῦτα ἐμοὶ γὰρ 
+τὴν ἀληθείην, ἀσκέειν ἀντία σεῦ βασιλεῦ ἀγὼν 
+μέγιστος ἐστί. ἄκουσον δὲ καὶ νῦν" οἱ ἄνδρες 
+οὗτοι ἀπίκαται μαχησόμενοι ἡμῖν περὶ τῆς ἐσόδου, 
+καὶ ταῦτα παρασκευάξονται. νόμος γάρ σφι ἔχων 
+
+
+524 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 208-209 
+
+
+what they had in hand; for while he was yet in 
+Thessaly, he had heard that some small army was 
+here gathered, and that its leaders were Lacedae- 
+monians, Leonidas a descendant of Heracles among 
+them. The horseman rode up to the camp and 
+viewed and overlooked it, yet not the whole; for it 
+was not possible to see those that were posted within 
+the wall which they had restored and now guarded ; 
+but he took note of those that were without, whose 
+arms were piled outside the wall, and it chanced that 
+at that time the Lacedaemonians were posted there. 
+There he saw some of the men at exercise, and others 
+combing their hair. Marvelling at the sight, and 
+taking exact note of their numbers, he rode back 
+unmolested, none pursuing nor at all regarding him ; 
+so he returned and told Xerxes all that he had 
+seen. 
+
+209. When Xerxes heard that, he could not under- 
+stand the truth, namely, that the Lacedaemonians 
+were preparing to slay to the best of their power or 
+be slain; what they did appeared to him laughable ; 
+wherefore he sent for Demaratus the son of Ariston, 
+who was in his camp, and when he came questioned 
+him of all these matters, that he might understand 
+what it was that the Lacedaemonians were about. 
+* [ have told you already," said Demaratus, * of these 
+men, when we were setting out for Hellas; but when 
+you heard, you mocked me, albeit I told you of this 
+which I saw plainly would be the outcome; for it is 
+my greatest endeavour, O king, to speak truth in 
+your presence. Now hear me once more: these men 
+are come to fight with us for the passage, and for 
+that they are preparing; for it is their custom to 
+
+
+525 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οὕτω ἐστί᾽ ἐπεὰν μέλλωσι κινδυνεύειν τῇ ψυχῇ, 
+τότε τὰς κεφαλὰς κοσμέονται. ἐπίστασο δέ, εἰ 
+τούτους ye καὶ TÒ ὑπομένον ἐν Σπάρτη κατα- 
+στρέψεαι, ἔστι οὐδὲν ἄλλο ἔθνος ἀνθρώπων τὸ 
+σὲ βασιλεῦ ὑπομενέει χεῖρας. ἀνταειρόμενον" νῦν 
+γὰρ πρὸς βασιληίην τε καὶ καλλίστην πόλιν 
+τῶν ἐν Ἕλλησι προσφέρεαι καὶ ἄνδρας ἆ ἀρίστους." 
+
+κάρτα τε δὴ Rép£n. ἄπιστα ἐφαίνετο τὰ λεγόμενα 
+elvat, καὶ δεύτερα ἐ ἐπειρώτα ὄντινα τρόπον τοσοῦ- 
+τοι ἐόντες τῇ ἑωυτοῦ στρατιῇ μαχήσονται. ὃ δὲ 
+εἶπε “ery βασιλεῦ, e ἐμοὶ χρᾶσθαι ὦ ὡς ἀνδρὶ ψεύστῃ, 
+jv μὴ ταῦτά τοι ταύτῃ ἐκβῇ τῇ ἐγὼ ΛΝ 
+
+210. Ταῦτα λέγων οὐκ ἔπειθε τὸν Ἐέ ρξην. 
+τέσσερας μὲν δὴ παρεξῆκε ἡμέρας, ἐλπίζων. αἰεί 
+σφεας ἀποδρήσεσ αι’ πέμπτῃ έ, ὡς οὐκ amad- 
+λάσσοντο ἀλλά οἱ ἐφαίνοντο ἀναιδείῃ. τε καὶ 
+ἀβουλίῃ διαχρεώµενοι, μένειν, πέμπει ἐπ᾽ αὐτοὺς 
+Μήδους τε καὶ Κισσίους θυμωθείς, ἐντειλάμενος 
+σφέας ξωγρήσαντας ἄγειν ἐς ὄψειν τὴν ἑωυτοῦ. 
+ὡς Ò ἐσέπεσον φερόμενοι ἐς τοὺς "Ελληνας οἱ 
+Μῆδοι, € ἔπιπτον πολλοί, ἄλλοι δ᾽ ἐπεσήισαν, καὶ 
+οὐκ ἀπηλαύνοντο, καίπερ μεγάλως προσπταίοντες. 
+δῆλον δ᾽ ἐποίευν παντί τεῳ καὶ οὐκ ἥκιστα αὐτῷ 
+βασιλέι, ὅ ὅτι πολλοὶ μὲν ἄνθρωποι. εἶεν, ὀλίγοι δὲ 
+ἄνδρες. ἐγίνετο δὲ ἡ ἡ συμβολὴ δι᾽ ἡμέρης. 
+
+211. Ἐπείτε δὲ οἱ M ῆδοι τρηχέως περιείποντο, 
+ἐνθαῦτα οὗτοι μὲν ὑπεξήισαν, οἱ δὲ Πέρσαι ἐκδε- 
+ξάμενοι ἐ ἐπήισαν, τοὺς ἀθανάτους ἐκάλεε βασιλεύς, 
+τῶν ἦρχε Ὑδάρνης, ὡς δὴ οὗτοί γε εὐπετέως κατ- 
+εργασόµενοι. ὡς δὲ καὶ οὗτοι συνέμισγον τοῖσι 
+“Ελλησι, οὐδὲν πλέον ἐφέροντο τῆς στρατιῆς τῆς 
+Μηδικῆς ἀλλὰ τὰ αὐτά, ἅτε ἐν στεινοπόρῳ τε 
+526 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 209-211 
+
+
+dress their hair whensoever they are about to put 
+their lives in jeopardy. Moreover I tell you, that if 
+you overcome these and what remains behind at 
+Sparta, there is no other nation among men, O king! 
+that will abide and withstand you; now are you face 
+to face with the noblest royalty and city and the most 
+valiant men in Hellas" Xerxes deemed what was 
+said to be wholly incredible, and further enquired of 
+him how they would fight against his army, being 
+so few. “O king," Demaratus answered, “use me 
+as a liar, if the event of this be not what I tell 
+ou." 
+
+210. Yet for all that Xerxes would not believe 
+him. For the space of four days the king waited, 
+ever expecting that the Greeks would take to flight ; 
+but on the fifth, seeing them not withdrawing and 
+deeming that their remaining there was but shame- 
+lessness and folly, he was angered, and sent the 
+Medes and Cissians against them, bidding them take 
+the Greeks alive and bring them into his presence. 
+The Medes bore down upon the Greeks and charged 
+them ; many fell, but others attacked in turn; and 
+though they suffered grievous defeat yet they were 
+not driven off. But they made it plain to all and 
+chiefly to the king himself that for all their number 
+of human creatures there were few men among them. 
+This battle lasted all the day. 
+
+211. The Medes being so roughly handled, they 
+were then withdrawn from the fight, and the Persians 
+whom the king called Immortals attacked in their 
+turn, led by Hydarnes. It was thought that they at 
+least would make short and easy work of the Greeks; - 
+but when they joined battle, they fared neither 
+better nor worse than the Median soldiery, fighting 
+
+
+527 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+χώρῳ μαχόμενοι καὶ δόρασι βραχυτέροισι χρεώ- 
+μενοι ἤ περ οἱ "Ελληνες, καὶ οὐκ ἔχοντες πληθεῖ 
+χρήσασθαι. Λακεδαιμόνιοι δὲ ἐμάχοντο ἀξίως 
+λόγου, ἄλλα τε ἀποδεικνύμενοι ev οὐκ ἐπισταμέ- 
+νοισι μάχεσθαι ἐξεπιστάμενοι, καὶ ὅκως ἐντρέψειαν 
+τὰ νῶτα, ἁλέες φεύγεσκον δῆθεν, οἱ δὲ βάρβαροι 
+ig φεύγοντας βοῇ τε καὶ πατάγῳ ἐπήισαν, 
+
+? δ ἂν καταλαμβανόμενοι ὑπέστρεφον ἀντίοι 
+εἶναι τοῖσι βαρβάροισι, µεταστρεφόµενοι, δὲ κατέ- 
+βαλλον πλήθεϊ ἀναριθμήτους τῶν Περσέων: ἔπι- 
+πτον δὲ καὶ αὐτῶν τῶν Σπαρτιητέων ἐνθαῦτα 
+ὀλίγοι. ἐπεὶ δὲ οὐδὲν ἐδυνέατο παραλαβεῖν οἱ 
+Πέρσαι τῆς ἐσόδου πειρώμενοι καὶ κατὰ τέλεα 
+καὶ παντοίως π οσβάλλοντες, ἀπήλαυνον ὀπίσω. 
+
+212. Ἐν ταύτῃσι τῇσι προσόδοισι τῆς μάχης 
+λέγεται βασιλέα θηεύμενον τρὶς ἀναδραμεῖν ἐκ 
+τοῦ θρόνου δείσαντα περὶ τῇ στρατιῇ. τότε μὲν 
+οὕτω ἠγωνίσαντο, τῇ ὃ ὑστεραίῃ οἱ βάρβαροι 
+οὐδὲν ἄμεινον ἀέθλεον. ἅτε γὰρ ὀλίγων ἐόντων, 
+ἐλπίσαντες σφέας κατατετρωματίσθαι τε καὶ οὐκ 
+οἵους τε ἔσεσθαι ἔτι χεῖρας ἀνταείρασθαι συνέ- 
+βαλλον. οἱ δὲ Ἕλληνες κατὰ τάξις τε καὶ κατὰ 
+ἔθνεα κεκοσμημένοι ἦσαν, καὶ ἐν μέρεϊ ἕκαστοι 
+ἐμάχοντο, πλὴν Φωκέων" οὗτοι δὲ ἐς τὸ ὄρος 
+ἐτάχθησαν φυλάξοντες τὴν ἀτραπόν. ὡς δὲ οὐδὲν 
+εὕρισκον ἀλλοιότερον οἱ Πέρσαι ἢ τῇ προτεραίῃ 
+ἐνώρων, ἀπήλαυνον. 
+
+218. ᾿Απορέοντος δὲ βασιλέος ὅ τι χρήσηται 
+τῷ, παρεόντι πρήγματι, ᾿Επιάλτης ὁ .Εὐρυδήμου 
+ἀνὴρ Μηλιεὺς ἦλθέ οἱ ἐς λόγους" ὃς μέγα τι παρὰ 
+βασιλέος δοκέων οἴσεσθαι ἔφρασέ τε τὴν ἀτραπὸν 
+
+
+528 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 211-213 
+
+
+as they were in a narrow space and with shorter 
+spears than the Greeks, where they could make no 
+use of their numbers. But the Lacedaemonians 
+fought memorably. They were skilled warriors 
+against unskilled; and it was among their many 
+feats of arms, that they would turn their backs and 
+feign flight; seeing which, the foreigners would 
+pursue after them with shouting and noise; but 
+when the Lacedaemonians were like to be overtaken 
+they turned upon the foreigners, and so rallying 
+overthrew Persians innumerable ; wherein some few 
+of the Spartans themselves were slain. So when the 
+Persians, attacking by companies and in every other 
+fashion, could yet gain no inch of the approach, they 
+drew off out of the fight. 
+
+212. During these onsets the king (it is said) 
+thrice sprang up in fear for his army from the throne 
+where he sat to view them. Such was then the 
+fortune of the fight, and on the next day the 
+foreigners had no better luck at the game. They 
+joined battle, supposing that their enemies, being so 
+few, were now disabled by wounds and could no 
+longer withstand them. But the Greeks stood 
+arrayed by battalions and nations, and each of these 
+fought in its turn, save the Phocians, who were 
+posted on the mountains to guard the path.! So 
+when the Persians found the Greeks in no way 
+different from what the day before had shown them 
+to be, they drew off from the fight. 
+
+213. The king being at a loss how to deal with 
+the present difficulty, Epialtes son of Eurydemus, a 
+Malian, came to speak with him, thinking so to 
+receive a great reward from Xerxes, and told him of 
+
+
+1 For which see below, ch. 215, 216. 
+529 
+VOL. ΠΠ. MM 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τὴν διὰ τοῦ ὄρεος φέρουσαν ἐς Θερμοπύλας, καὶ 
+διέφθειρε τοὺς ταύτῃ ὑπομείναντας Ἑλλήνων. 
+ὕστερον δὲ δείσας Λακεδαιμονίους ἔφυγε ἐς Θεσ- 
+σαλίην, καί οἱ φυγόντι ὑπὸ τῶν Πυλαγόρων τῶν 
+᾽Αμϕικτυόνων ἐς τὴν Ἠυλαίην συλλεγομένων 
+ἀργύριον ἐπεκηρύχθη. χρύνῳ δὲ ὗ ὕστερον, κατῆλθε 
+γὰρ ἐς ᾿Αντικύρην, ἀπέθανε ù ὑπὸ ᾿Αθηνάδεω ἀνδρὸς 
+Τρηχινίου. ὁ δὲ ᾿Αθηνάδης οὗτος ἀπέκτεινε μὲν 
+Ἠπιάλτεα δι᾽ ἄλλην αἰτίην, τὴν ἐγὼ ἐν τοῖσι 
+ὄπισθε λόγοισι σημανέω, ἐτιμήθη μέντοι ὑπὸ 
+Λακεδαιμονίων οὐδὲν ἧσσον. 
+
+214. Ἐπιάλτης μὲν οὕτω ὕστερον τούτων ἀπέ- 
+
+θανε, ἔ ἔστι δὲ ἕ ἕτερος λεγόμενος λόγος, ὡς ᾿Ὀνήτης 
+τε ὁ Φαναγόρεω ἀνὴρ Καρύστιος καὶ Κορυδαλλὸς 
+᾿Αντικυρεὺς εἰσὶ οἱ εἴπαντες πρὸς βασιλέα τούτους 
+τοὺς λόγους καὶ περιηγησάμενοι τὸ -ὄρος τοῖσι 
+Πέρσῃσι, οὐδαμῶς ἔμοιγε πιστός. τοῦτο μὲν γὰρ 
+τῶδε χρὴ σταθμώσασθαι, ὅτι οἱ τῶν Ἑλλήνων 
+Πυλαγόροι ἐπεκήρυξαν οὐκ ἐπὶ ᾿Ονήτῃ τε καὶ 
+Κορυδαλλῷ ἀργύριον ἀλλ ἐπὶ Ἐπιάλτῃ τῷ 
+Τ ρηχινίῳ, πάντως κου τὸ ἀτρεκέστατον πυθόμενοι' 
+τοῦτο δὲ φεύγοντα ᾿Επιάλτην ταύτην τὴν αἰτίην 
+οἴδαμεν. εἰδείη μὲν γὰρ ἂν καὶ ἐὼν μὴ Μηλιεὺς 
+ταύτην τὴν ἀτραπὸν Ὀνήτης, εἰ τῇ χώρῃ πολλὰ 
+ὡμιληκὼς εἴη" ἀλλ’ Ἐπιάλτης γὰρ ἐστι ὁ περι- 
+ηγησάµενος τὸ ὄρος κατὰ τὴν ἀτραπόν, τοῦτον 
+αἴτιον γράφω. 
+
+215, Ἐέρξης δέ, ἐπεὶ ἤρεσε τὰ ὑπέσχετο ὁ 
+Ἐπιάλτης κατεργάσασθαι, αὐτίκα περιχαρὴς YE- 
+νόμενος ἔπεμπε ‘TSdpvea καὶ τῶν ἐστρατήγεε 
+
+1 Cp. 200 (note). 
+
+2 The expression proves Herodotus’ intention of con- 
+
+
+530 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 213-215 
+
+
+the path leading over the mountain to Thermopylae; 
+whereby he was the undoing of the Greeks who had 
+been left there. This Epialtes afterwards fled into 
+Thessaly, for fear of the Lacedaemonians; and he 
+being so banished a price was put on his head by the 
+Pylagori! when the Amphictyons sat together in 
+their council at Thermopylae; and a long time after 
+that, having returned to Anticyra, he was slain by 
+Athenades, a man of Trachis. It was for another 
+cause (which I will tell in the latter part of my 
+history)? that this Athenades slew Epialtes, but 
+he was none the less honoured for it by the 
+Lacedaemonians. 
+
+214. Such was the end of Epialtes at a later day. 
+There is another story current, that it was Onetes 
+son of Phanagoras, a Carystian, and Corydallus of 
+Anticyra, who spoke to the king to this effect and 
+guided the Persians round the mountain; but I 
+wholly disbelieve it. For firstly, we must draw con- 
+clusion from what the Pylagori did ; they set a price 
+on the head of the Trachinian Epialtes, not of Onetes 
+and Corydallus; and it must be supposed that they 
+used all means to learn the truth; and secondly, 
+we know that Epialtes was for this cause banished. 
+I do not deny that Onetes might know the path, 
+even though not a Malian, if he had many times been 
+in that country ; but the man who guided them by 
+that path round the mountain was Epialtes, and on 
+him I here fix the guilt. 
+
+215. Xerxes was satisfied with what Epialtes pro- 
+mised to accomplish ; much rejoicing thereat, he sent 
+Hydarnes forthwith and Hydarnes’ following; and 
+εν μμ his history beyond 479, the year with which Book IX 
+enas. 
+
+
+531 
+MM 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+“Ὑδάρνης, ὁρμέατο δὲ περὶ λύχνων ἀφὰς ἐκ τοῦ 
+στρατοπέδου. τὴν δὲ ἀτραπὸν ταύτην ἐξεῦρον μὲν 
+οἱ ἐπιχώριοι Μηλιέες, ἐξευρόντες δὲ Θεσσαλοῖσι 
+κατηγήσαντο͵ ἐπὶ Φωκέας, τότε ὅτε οἱ Φωκέες 
+φράξαντες τεύχεϊ τὴν ἐσβολὴν ἦσαν ἐν σκέπῃ τοῦ 
+πολέμου' ἔκ τε τόσου δὴ κατεδέδεκτο ἐοῦσα 
+οὐδὲν χρηστὴ Μηλιεῦσι. 
+
+216. Ἔχει δὲ ὧδε ἡ ἀτραπὸς αὕτη" ἄρχεται 
+μὲν ἀπὸ τοῦ ᾿Ασωποῦ ποταμοῦ τοῦ διὰ τῆς δια- 
+σφάγος ῥέοντος, οὔνομα δὲ τῷ ὄρεϊ τούτῳ καὶ τῇ 
+ἀτραπῷ τὠυτὸ κεῖται, ᾿Ανόπαια" τείνει δὲ ἡ η ᾿Ανό- 
+TULA αὕτη κατὰ ῥάχιν τοῦ ὄρεος, λήγει δὲ κατά 
+τε ᾽Αλπηνὸν πόλιν, π πρώτην ἐοῦσαν τῶν Λοκρίδων 
+πρὸς τῶν Μηλιέων, καὶ κατὰ Μελαμπύγου τε 
+καλεόμενον λίθον καὶ κατὰ Κερκώπων ἕδρας, τῇ 
+καὶ τὸ στεινότατον ἐστί. 
+
+211. Κατὰ ταύτην δὴ τὴν ἀτραπὸν καὶ οὕτω 
+ἔχουσαν οἱ Πέρσαι, τὸν ᾿Ασωπὸν διαβάντες, 
+ἐπορεύοντο πᾶσαν τὴν νύκτα, ἐν δεξιῇ μὲν ἔχοντες 
+ὄρεα τὰ Οἰταίων, ἐν ἀριστερῇ δὲ τὰ Τρηχινίων. 
+ἠώς. τε δὴ διέφαινε καὶ οἳ ἐγένοντο ἐπ᾽ ἀκρω- 
+τηρίῳ τοῦ ὄρεος. κατὰ δὲ τοῦτο. τοῦ ὄρεος 
+ἐφύλασσον, ὡς καὶ πρότερόν μοι εἴρηται, Dw- 
+κέων χίλιοι ὁπλῖται, ῥυόμενοί τε τήν .σφετέρην 
+χώρην καὶ φρουρέοντες τὴν ἀτραπόν. ἡ μὲν γὰρ 
+κάτω ἐσβολὴ. ἐφυλάσσετο ὑπὸ τῶν εἴρηται τὴν 
+δὲ διὰ τοῦ ὄρεος ἀτραπὸν ἐθελονταὶ Φωκέες 
+ὑποδεξάμενοι Λεωνίδῃ ἐφύλασσον. 
+
+
+! Plutarch in his life of Cato (13) describes the difficulty 
+ios troops under Cato's command encountered in trying to 
+ollow it. 
+
+
+532 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 215-217 
+
+
+they set forth from the camp about the hour when 
+lamps are lit. Now this path! had been discovered 
+by the Malians of the country, who guided the 
+Thessalians thereby into Phocis, at the time when 
+the Phocians sheltered themselves from attack by 
+fencing the pass with a wall; thus early had the 
+Malians shown that the pass could avail nothing.? 
+
+216. Now the path runs thuswise. It begins at 
+the river Asopus which flows through the ravine; 
+the mountain there and the path have the same 
+name, Anopaea; this Anopaea crosses the ridge of 
+the mountain and ends at the town of Alpenus, the 
+Locrian town nearest to Malis, where is the rock 
+called Blackbuttock and the seats of the Cercopes ; 
+and this is its narrowest part.? 
+
+217. Of such nature is the path; by this, when 
+they had crossed the Asopus, the Persians marched 
+all night, the Oetean mountains being on their right 
+hand and the Trachinian on their left. At dawn of 
+day they came to the summit of the pass. Now in 
+this part of the mountain-way a thousand Phocians 
+were posted, as I have already shown, to defend 
+their own country and guard the path ; for the lower 
+pass was held by those of whom I have spoken, but 
+the path over the mountains by the Phocians, ac- 
+cording to the promise that they had of their own 
+motion given to Leonidas. 
+
+
+2 This is Stein's interpretation ; others make οὐδὲν χρηστὴ 
+refer to the àrpamós, meaning there ‘‘ pernicious.” 
+
+ὃ The Cercopes, mischievous dwarfs, had been warned 
+against a ‘‘ueAduruyos” enemy. Heracles, to rid the country 
+of them, carried off two on his back, hanging head down- 
+wards, in which position they had every opportunity of 
+observing his title to the above epithet; until their jests 
+on the subject moved him to release them. 
+
+
+533 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+218. Ἔμαθον δὲ σφέας οἱ Φωκέες ὧδε ἆνα- 
+βεβηκότας" ἀναβαίνοντες γὰρ ἐλάνθανον οἱ Πέρ- 
+σαι τὸ ὄρος πᾶν ἐὸν δρυῶν ἐπίπλεον. v μὲν δὴ 
+νηνεμίη, ψόφου δὲ γινομένου πολλοῦ, OS οἰκὸς 
+ἦν φύλλων ὑποκεχυμένων ὑπὸ τοῖσι ποσί, ἀνά 
+τε ἔδραμον οἱ Φωκέες καὶ ἐνέδυνον τὰ ὅπλα, καὶ 
+αὐτίκα οἱ βάρβαροι παρῆσαν. ὡς δὲ εἶδον ἄνδρας 
+ἐνδυομένους ὅπλα, ἐν θώματι ἐγένοντο' ἐλπόμενοι 
+γὰρ οὐδένα σφι φανήσεσθαι ἀντίξοον ἐνεκύρησαν 
+στρατῷ. ἐνθαῦτα Ὑδάρνης καταρρωδήσας μὴ 
+οἱ Φωκέες ἔωσι Λακεδαιμόνιοι, εἴρετο ᾿Επιάλτην 
+ὁποδαπὸς εἴη ὁ στρατός, πυθόμενος δὲ ἀτρεκέως 
+διέτασσε τοὺς Πέρσας ὡς ἐς μάχην. οἱ δὲ Φωκέες 
+ὡς ἐβάλλοντο τοῖσι τοξεύμασι πολλοῖσί τε καὶ 
+πυκνοῖσι, οἴχοντο φεύγοντες ἐπὶ τοῦ ὄρεος τὸν 
+κόρυμβον, ἐπιστάμενοι ὡς ἐπὶ σφέας ὁρμήθησαν 
+ἀρχήν, καὶ παρεσκευάδατο ἆ ὡς ἀπολεόμενοι. οὗτοι 
+μὲν δὴ ταῦτα ἐφρόνεον, οἱ δὲ ἀμφὶ ᾿Επιάλτην 
+καὶ Ὑδάρνεα Πέρσαι Φωκέων μὲν οὐδένα λόγον 
+ἐποιεῦντο, οἳ δὲ κατέβαινον τὸ ὄρος κατὰ τάχος. 
+
+219. Τοῖσι δὲ ἐν Θερμοπύλῃσι ἐοῦσι Ἑλλήνων 
+πρῶτον μὲν ὁ μάντις Μεγιστίης ἐσιδὼν ἐς τὰ ἱρὰ 
+ἔφρασε τὸν μέλλοντα ἔσεσθαι ἅμα ἠοῖ σφι ĝa- 
+νατον, ἐπὶ δὲ καὶ αὐτόμολοι ἦσαν οἱ ἐξαγγείλαντες 
+τῶν Περσέων τὴν περίοδον. οὗτοι μὲν ἔτι νυκτὸς 
+ἐσήμηναν, τρίτοι δὲ οἱ ἡμεροσκόποι καταδρα- 
+μόντες ἀπὸ τῶν ἄκρων ἤδη διαφαινούσης ἡ ἡμέρης. 
+ἐνθαῦτα ἐβουλεύοντο οἱ "Ελληνες, καί σφεων 
+ἐσχίξοντο αἱ γνῶμαι: οἳ μὲν γὰρ οὐκ ἔων τὴν 
+τάξιν ἐκλιπεῖν, οἳ δὲ ἀντέτεινον. μετὰ δὲ τοῦτο 
+διακριθέντες οἳ μὲν ἀπαλλάσσοντο καὶ διασκεδα- 
+
+
+534 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 218-219 
+
+
+218. Now the mountain-side where the Persians 
+ascended was all covered by oak woods, and the 
+Phocians knew nothing of their coming till they 
+were warned of it, in the still weather, by the much 
+noise of the enemy's tread on the leaves that lay 
+strewn underfoot; whereupon they sprang up and 
+began to arm, and in a moment the foreigners were 
+upon them. These were amazed at the sight of men © 
+putting on armour; for they had supposed that no 
+one would withstand them, and now they fell in 
+with an army. Hydarnes feared that the Phocians 
+might be Lacedaemonians, and asked Epialtes of 
+what country they were; being informed of the 
+truth he arrayed the Persians for battle; and the 
+Phocians, assailed by showers of arrows, and sup- 
+posing that it was they whom the Persians had 
+meant from the first to attack, fled away up to the 
+top of the mountain and prepared there to perish. 
+Such was their thought; but the Persians with 
+Epialtes and Hydarnes paid no regard to the 
+Phocians, but descended from the mountain with 
+all speed. 
+
+219. The Greeks at Thermopylae were warned 
+first by Megistias the seer; who, having examined 
+the offerings, advised them of the death that awaited 
+them in the morning ; and presently came deserters, 
+while it was yet night, with news of the circuit made 
+by the Persians; which was lastly brought also by 
+the watchers running down from the heights when 
+day was now dawning. Thereupon the Greeks held 
+a council, and their opinions were divided, some 
+advising that they should not leave their post, and 
+some being contrariwise minded ; and presently they 
+parted asunder, these taking their departure and 
+
+
+535 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+’ N [4 ν > , [A A 3 ^ 
+σθέντες κατὰ πόλις ἕκαστοι ἐτράποντο, οἳ δὲ αὐτῶν 
+ἅμα Λεωνίδῃ μένειν αὐτοῦ παρεσκευάδατο. 
+
+220. Λέγεται δὲ καὶ ὡς αὐτός σφεας ἀπέπεμψε 
+
+/ 4 3 , , š 3 ^ X . 
+Λεωνίδης, μὴ ἀπόλωνται κηδόμενος: αὐτῷ δὲ καὶ 
+"wl ’ ^ ^ 9 » 3 s 
+Σπαρτιητέων τοῖσι παρεοῦσι οὐκ ἔχειν εὐπρεπέως 
+ἐκλιπεῖν τὴν τάξιν ἐς τὴν. ἦλθον φυλάξοντες 
+ἀρχήν. ταύτῃ καὶ μᾶλλον τὴν γνώμην πλεῖστος 
+
+/ 
+εἰμί, Λεωνίδην, ἐπείτε ἤσθετο τοὺς συμμάχους 
+
+’ 
+ἐόντας ἀπροθύμους καὶ οὐκ ἐθέλοντας συνδιακιν- 
+
+s A 4 9 2 3 ^ 
+
+δυνεύειν, κελεῦσαι σφέας ἀπαλλάσσεσθαι, αὐτῷ 
+δὲ ἀπιέναι οὐ καλῶς ἔχειν: μένοντι δὲ αὐτοῦ 
+li / ’ 9 ’ X e , ?, Pd 
+κλέος μέγα ἐλείπετο, καὶ 7) Σπάρτης εὐδαιμονίη 
+
+9 9 ’ 9 ’ ~ e N ^ [4 
+οὐκ ἐξηλείφετο. ἐκέχρηστο γὰρ ὑπὸ τῆς Πυθίης 
+τοῖσι Σπαρτιήτῃσι χρεωμένοισι περὶ τοῦ πολέμου 
+τούτου αὐτίκα κατ᾽ ἀρχὰς ἐγειρομένου, ἢ Aa- 
+
+N ^ 
+
+κεδαίµονα ἀνάστατον γενέσθαι ὑπὸ τῶν βαρβάρων 
+ἢ τὴν βασιλέα σφέων ἀπολέσθαι. ταῦτα δέ σφι 
+ἐν ἔπεσι ἑξαμέτροισι χρᾷ λέγοντα ὧδε, 
+
+
+e ^ » . 4 3 ’ » / 
+
+ὑμῖν δ᾽, ὦ Σπάρτης οἰκήτορες εὐρυχόροιο, 
+
+à fF T 3 0 ον ε » » / " 
+
+ἢ μέγα ἄστυ ἐρικυδὲς ὑπ᾽ ἀνδράσι Περσεΐδῃσι 
+
+πέρθεται, ἢ τὸ μὲν οὐχί, ἀφ᾽ Ἡρακλέους δὲ 
+γενέθλης 
+
+πενθήσει βασιλῆ φθύμενον Λακεδαίμονος οὗρος. 
+
+οὐ γὰρ τὸν ταύρων σχήσει μένος οὐδὲ λεόντων 
+
+ἀντιβίην: Ζηνὸς γὰρ ἔχει μένος" οὐδέ é φημί 
+
+σχήσεσθαι, πρὶν τῶνδ᾽ ἕτερον διὰ πάντα 
+δάσηται. 
+
+
+536 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 219-220 
+
+
+dispersing each to their own cities, and those resolving 
+to remain where they were with Leonidas. 
+
+220. It is said indeed that Leonidas himself sent 
+them away, desiring in his care for them to save 
+their lives, but deeming it unseemly for himself and 
+the Spartans to desert that post which they had first 
+come to defend. But to this opinion I the rather 
+incline, that when Leonidas perceived the allies to 
+be faint of heart and not willing to run all risks with 
+him he bade them go their ways, departure being 
+for himself not honourable ; if he remained, he would 
+leave a name of great renown, and the prosperity of 
+Sparta would not be blotted out. For when the 
+Spartans enquired of the oracle concerning this war 
+at its very first beginning, the Pythian priestess had 
+prophesied to them that either Lacedaemon should 
+be destroyed of the foreigners, or that its king should 
+perish : which answer was given in these hexameter 
+verses : 
+
+
+Fated it is for you, ye dwellers in wide-wayed 
+
+
+Sparta, 
+
+Either your city must fall, that now is mighty and 
+famous, 
+
+Wasted by Persian men, or the border of fair 
+Lacedaemon 
+
+Mourn for a king that is dead, from Heracles' line 
+descended. 
+
+Yea, for the foe thou hast nor bulls nor lions can 
+
+
+conquer ; 
+Mighty he cometh as Zeus, and shall not be stayed 
+in his coming ; 
+One of the two will he take, and rend his quarry 
+asunder. 
+
+
+$37. 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ταῦτά τε δὴ ἐπιλεγόμενον Λεωνίδην, καὶ βουλό- 
+μενον κλέος καταθέσθαι μούνων Σπαρτιητέων, 
+ἀποπέμψαι τοὺς συμμάχους μᾶλλον ἢ γνώμῃ 
+διενειχθέντας οὕτω ἀκόσμως οἴχεσθαι τοὺς οἶχο- 
+μένους. 
+
+221. Μαρτύριον δέ µοι καὶ τόδε οὐκ ἐλάχιστον 
+τούτου πέρι γέγονε, ὅτι καὶ τὸν μάντιν ὃς εἵπετο 
+τῇ στρατιῇ ταύτῃ, Μεγιστίην τὸν Ακαρνῆνα, 
+λεγόμενον εἶναι τὰ ἀνέκαθεν ἀπὸ Μελάμποδος, 
+τοῦτον εἴπαντα ἐκ τῶν ἱρῶν τὰ μέλλοντά σφι 
+ἐκβαίνειν, φανερός ἐστι Λεωνίδης ἀποπέμπων, 
+ἵνα μὴ συναπόληταί σφι. ὃ δὲ ἀποπεμπόμενος 
+αὐτὸς μὲν οὐκ ἀπέλιπε, τὸν δὲ παῖδα συστρατευό- 
+μενον, ἐόντα οἱ μουνογενέα, ἀπέπεμψε. 
+
+222. Οἱ μέν νυν σύμμαχοι οἱ ἀποπεμπόμενοι 
+οἴχοντό τε ἀπιόντες καὶ ἐπείθοντο Λεωνίδῃ, Oe- 
+σπιέες δὲ καὶ Θηβαῖοι κατέμειναν μοῦνοι παρὰ 
+Λακεδαιμονίοισι. τούτων δὲ Θηβαῖοι μὲν ἀέκοντες 
+ἔμενον καὶ οὐ βουλόμενοι: κατεῖχε γὰρ σφέας 
+Λεωνίδης ἐν ὁμήρων λόγῳ ποιεύμενος: Θεσπιέες 
+δὲ ἑκόντες μάλιστα, οἳ οὐκ ἔφασαν ἀπολιπόντες 
+Λεωνίδην καὶ τοὺς μετ αὐτοῦ ἀπαλλάξεσθαι, 
+ἀλλὰ καταμείναντες συναπέθανον. ἐστρατήγεε 
+δὲ αὐτῶν Δημόφιλος Διαδρόμεω. 
+
+228. Ξέρξης δὲ ἐπεὶ ἡλίου ἀνατείλαντος σπονδὰς 
+ἐποιήσατο, ἐπισχὼν χρόνον ἐς ἀγορῆς κου μάλιστα 
+πληθώρην πρόσοδον ἐποιέετο' καὶ γὰρ ἐπέσταλτο 
+ἐξ Ἐπιάλτεω οὕτω" ἀπὸ γὰρ τοῦ ὄρεος ἡ rard- 
+βασις συντοµωτέρη τε ἐστὶ καὶ βραχύτερος ὁ 
+χῶρος πολλὸν ἤ περ ἡ περίοδός τε καὶ ἀνάβασις. 
+ot τε δὴ βάρβαροι οἱ ἀμφὶ Ἐέρξην προσήισαν, 
+καὶ οἱ ἀμφὶ Λεωνίδην "Ελληνες, ὡς τὴν ἐπὶ 
+538 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 220-223 
+
+Of this (it is my belief) Leonidas bethought 
+himself, and desired that the Spartans alone should 
+have the glory ; wherefore he chose rather to send the 
+allies away than that the departure of those who went 
+should be the unseemly outcome of divided counsels. 
+
+22]. In which matter I hold it for one of my 
+strongest proofs, that Megistias the Acarnanian (re- 
+puted a descendant of Melampus), who advised the 
+Greeks from the offerings of what should befal them, 
+was past all doubt bidden by Leonidas to depart, lest 
+he should perish with the rest. Yet though thus 
+bidden Megistias himself would not go; he had an 
+only son in the army, and him he sent away instead. 
+
+222. So those of the allies who were bidden to go 
+went their ways in obedience to Leonidas, and the 
+Thespians and Thebans alone stayed by the Lace- 
+daemonians; the Thebans indeed against their will 
+and desire, and kept there by Leonidas as hostages ; 
+but the Thespians remained with great goodwill. 
+They refused to depart and leave Leonidas and his 
+comrades, but remained there and died with him. 
+Their general was Demophilus son of Diadromes. 
+
+223. Xerxes, having at sunrise offered libations, 
+waited till about the hour of marketing and then 
+made his assault, having been so advised by Epialtes ; 
+for the descent from the mountain is more direct and 
+the way is much shorter than the circuit and the 
+ascent.^ So the foreigners that were with Xerxes 
+attacked; but the Greeks with Leonidas, knowing 
+
+
+1 Stein reads μοῦνον, with most MSS.; but μούνων has 
+some authority, and expresses the sense much better. 
+
+2 So that the Persians who came by the Anopaea path, 
+leaving the top of the pass at dawn (ορ. 217), could reach the 
+low ground by the early forenoon, 
+
+
+539 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+L4 
+
+
+θανάτῳ ἔξοδον ποιεύμενοι, ἤδη πολλῷ μᾶλλον 
+ἢ κατ᾽ ἀρχὰς ἐπεξήισαν ἐς τὸ εὐρύτερον τοῦ 
+αὐχένος. τὸ μὲν γὰρ ἔρυμα τοῦ τείχεος ἐφυλάσ- 
+σετο, οἳ δὲ ἀνὰ τὰς προτέρας ἡμέρας ὑπεξιόντες 
+ἐς τὰ στεινόπορα ἐμάχοντο. τότε δὲ συμμίσγοντες 
+ἔξω τῶν στεινῶν ἔπιπτον πλήθεϊ πολλοὶ τῶν 
+βαρβάρων' ὄπισθε γὰρ οἱ ἡγεμόνες τῶν τελέων 
+ἔχοντες μάστιγας ἐρράπιξον πάντα ἄνδρα, αἰεὶ 
+ἐς τὸ πρόσω ἐποτρύνοντες. πολλοὶ μὲν δὴ ἐσέ- 
+πιπτον αὐτῶν ἐς τὴν θάλασσαν καὶ διεφθείροντο, 
+πολλῷ Ò ἔτι πλεῦνες κατεπατέοντο ζωοὶ ὑπ᾽ 
+ἀλλήλων: ἦν δὲ λόγος οὐδεὶς τοῦ ἀπολλυμένου. 
+ἅτε γὰρ é ἐπιστάμενοι τὸν μέλλοντα σφίσι ἔσεσθαι 
+θάνατον. ἐκ τῶν περιιόντων τὸ ὄρος, an εδείκνυντο 
+ῥώμης ὅσον εἶχον μέγιστον ἐς τοὺς βαρβάρους, 
+παραχρεώμενοί τε καὶ ἀτέοντες. 
+
+224. -Δόρατα μὲν νυν τοῖσι πλέοσι αὐτῶν 
+τηνικαῦτα ἤδη ἐτύγχανε κατεηγότα, οἳ δὲ τοῖσι 
+ξίφεσι διεργάξοντο τοὺς Πέρσας. καὶ Λεωνίδης 
+τε ἐν τούτῳ. τῷ πόνῳ πίπτει ἀνὴρ γενόμενος 
+ἄριστος καὶ ἕτεροι μετ᾽ αὐτοῦ ὀνομαστοὶ Σπαρτιη- 
+τέων, τῶν ἐγὼ ὡς ἀνδρῶν ἀξίων γενομένων ἐπυ- 
+θόμην τὰ οὐνόματα, ἐπυθόμην δὲ καὶ ἁπάντων 
+τῶν τριηκοσίων. καὶ δὴ Περσέων πίπτουσι 
+ἐνθαῦτα ἄλλοι τε πολλοὶ καὶ ὀνομαστοί, ἐν δὲ 
+δὴ καὶ Δαρείου δύο παῖδες ᾿Αβροκόμης τε καὶ 
+Ὑπεράνθης, ἐκ τῆς ᾿Αρτάνεω θυγατρὸς Φρα- 
+ταγούνης γεγονότες Δαρείῳ. ὁ δὲ ᾿Αρτάνης Δα- 
+ρείου μὲν τοῦ βασιλέος ἦν ἀδελφεός, Ὑστάσπεος 
+δὲ τοῦ ᾿Αρσάμεος παῖς' ὃς καὶ ἐκδιδοὺς τὴν 
+θυγατέρα Δαρείῳ τὸν οἶκον πάντα τὸν ἑωυτοῦ 
+ἐπέδωκε, ὡς μούνης οἱ ἐούσης ταύτης τέκνου. 
+
+
+549 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 223-224 
+
+
+that they went to their death, advanced now much 
+farther than before into the wider part of the strait. 
+For ere now it was the wall of defence that they had 
+guarded, and all the former days they had withdrawn 
+themselves into the narrow way and fought there ; 
+but now they met their enemies outside the narrows, 
+and many of the foreigners were there slain; for 
+their captains came behind the companies with 
+scourges and drove all the men forward with lashes. 
+Many of them were thrust into the sea and there 
+drowned, and more by far were trodden down bodily 
+by each other, none regarding who it was that 
+perished; for inasmuch as the Greeks knew that 
+they must die by the hands of those who came round 
+the mountain, they put forth the very utmost of 
+their strength against the foreigners, in their 
+recklessness and frenzy. 
+
+224. By this time the spears of the most of them 
+were broken, and they were slaying the Persians 
+with their swords. There in that travail fell 
+Leonidas, fighting most gallantly, and with him 
+other famous Spartans, whose names I have learnt 
+for their great worth and desert, as I have learnt 
+besides the names of all the three hundred.! "There 
+too fell, among other famous Persians, Abrocomes 
+and Hyperanthes, two sons of Darius by Phratagune 
+daughter of Artanes. This Artanes was brother to 
+king Darius, and son of Hystaspes who was the son 
+of Arsames; and when he gave his daughter in 
+marriage to Darius he dowered her with the whole 
+wealth of his house, she being his only child. 
+
+
+1 Leonidas’ body was brought to Sparta and there buried 
+in 440 ; a column was erected on his grave bearing the names 
+of the three hundred, which Herodotus probably saw. 
+
+
+541 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+225. Eép£eo τε δὴ δύο ἀδελφεοὶ. ἐνθαῦτα πίπ- 
+. τουσι μαχόμενοι, καὶ ὑπὲρ τοῦ νεκροῦ τοῦ Λεωνίδεω 
+
+ερσέων τε καὶ Λακεδαιμονίων ὠθισμὸς ἐγίνετο 
+πολλός, ἐς ὃ τοῦτόν τε ἀρετῇ οἱ "Ελληνες ὑπεξεί- 
+ρυσαν καὶ ἐτρέψαντο τοὺς ἐναντίους τετράκις. 
+τοῦτο δὲ συνεστήκεε μέχρι οὗ οἱ σὺν ᾿Επιάλτῃ 
+παρεγένοντο. ὡς δὲ τούτους ἥκειν ἐπύθοντο οἱ Ἕλ- 
+ληνες, ἐνθεῦτεν ἤδη ἑτεροιοῦτο τὸ νεῖκος" ἔς τε γὰρ 
+τὸ στεινὸν τῆς ὁδοῦ ἀνεχώρεον ὁ ὀπίσω, καὶ παρα- 
+μειψάμενοι τὸ τεῖχος ἐλθόντες ἵξοντο ἐπὶ τὸν 
+κολωνὸν πάντες ἁλέες οἱ ἄλλοι πλὴν Θηβαίων. 
+ὁ δὲ κολωνὸς ἐστὶ ἐν τῇ ἐσόδῳ, ὅ ὅκου. νῦν ὁ λίθινος 
+λέων ἕστηκε ἐπὶ Λεωνίδῃ. ἐν τούτῳ σφέας τῷ 
+χώρῳ ἀλεξομένους μαχαίρῃσι, τοῖσι αὐτῶν ἐτύγ- 
+χανον ἔτι περιεοῦσαι, καὶ χερσὶ καὶ στόμασι 
+κατέχωσαν οἱ βάρβαροι βάλλοντες, οἳ μὲν ἐξ 
+ἐναντίης ἐπισπόμενοι καὶ τὸ epu TOÜ τείχεος 
+συγχώσαντες, of δὲ περιελθόντες πάντοθεν Tepi- 
+σταδόν. 
+
+996. Λακεδαιμονίων δὲ καὶ Θεσπιέων τοιούτων 
+γενομένων ὅμως λέγεται ἀνὴρ ἄριστος γενέσθαι 
+Σπαρτιήτης Διηνέκης' τὸν τόδε φασὶ εἰπεῖν τὸ 
+ἔπος πρὶν 7) συμμῖξαι σφέας τοῖσι Μήδοισι, 
+πυθόμενον πρός τευ τῶν Τρηχινίων ὡς ἐπεὰν οἱ 
+βάρβαροι ἀπιέωσι τὰ τοξεύματα, τὸν ἥλιον ὑπὸ 
+τοῦ πλήθεος τῶν ὀιστῶν ἀποκρύπτουσι' τοσοῦτο 
+πλῆθος αὐτῶν εἶναι. τὸν δὲ οὐκ ἐκπλαγέντα 
+τούτοισι εὐπεῖν ἐν ἀλογίῃ ποιεύμενον τὸ Μήδων 
+πλῆθος, ὡς πάντα σφι ἀγαθὰ ὁ Τρηχίνιος ξεῖνος 
+ἀγγέλλοι, εἰ ἀποκρυπτόντων τῶν Μήδων τὸν 
+ἥλιον ὑπὸ σκιῇ ἔσοιτο πρὸς αὐτοὺς ἡ μάχη καὶ 
+οὐκ ἐν ἡλίῳ. 
+
+
+542 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 225-226 
+
+
+225. So two brothers of Xerxes fell there in the 
+battle; and there was a great struggle between the 
+Persians and Lacedaemonians over Leonidas' body, 
+till the Greeks of their valour dragged it away and 
+four times put their enemies to flight. Nor was there 
+an end of this mellay till the men with Ejpialtes 
+came up. When the Greeks were aware of their 
+coming, from that moment the face of the battle was 
+changed; for they withdrew themselves back to the 
+narrow part of the way, and passing within the wall 
+they took post, all save the Thebans, upon the 
+hillock that is in the mouth of the pass, where now 
+stands the stone lion in honour of Leonidas. Inthat 
+place they defended themselves with their swords, as 
+many as yet had such, ay and with fists and teeth ; 
+till the foreigners overwhelmed them with missile 
+weapons, some attacking them in front and throwing 
+down the wall of defence, and others standing around 
+them in a ring. 
+
+226. Thus did the men of Lacedaemon and Thespiae 
+bear themselves. Yet the bravest of them all (it is 
+said) was Dieneces, a Spartan, of whom a certain 
+saying is reported: before they joined battle with 
+the Medes, it was told Dieneces by a certain 
+Trachinian that the enemies were so many, that 
+when they shot with their bows the sun was hidden 
+by the multitude of arrows; whereby being no whit 
+dismayed, but making light of the multitude of the 
+Medes, “ Our friend from Trachis," quoth he, “ brings 
+us right good news, for if the Medes hide the sun we 
+shall fight them in the shade and not in the sun- 
+shine." 
+
+
+543 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+221. Ταῦτα μὲν καὶ ἄλλα τοιουτότροπα ἔπεα 
+φασὶ Διηνέκεα τὸν Λακεδαιμόνιον λιπέσθαι µνη- 
+μόσυνα' μετὰ δὲ τοῦτον ἀριστεῦσαι λέγονται 
+Λακεδαιμόνιοι δύο ἀδελφεοί, Αλφεός τε καὶ Μά- 
+ρων ᾿Ὀρσιφάντου παῖδες. Θεσπιέων δὲ εὐδοκίμεε 
+μάλιστα τῷ οὔνομα ἦν Διθύραμβος “Αρματίδεω. 
+
+228. Θαφθεῖσι δέ σφι αὐτοῦ ταύτῃ τῇ περ 
+ἔπεσον, καὶ τοῖσι πρότερον τελευτήσασι ἢ ὑπὸ 
+Λεωνίδεω ἀποπεμφθέντας οἴχεσθαι, ἐπιγέγραπται 
+γράμματα λέγοντα τάδε. 
+
+
+μυριάσιν ποτὲ τῇδε τριηκοσίαις͵ ἐμάχοντο 
+ἐκ Πελοποννάσου χιλιάδες τέτορες. 
+
+
+ταῦτα μὲν δὴ τοῖσι πᾶσι ἐπιγέγραπται, τοῖσι δὲ 
+Σπαρτιήτῃσι ἐδίῃ. 
+ὦ ξεῖν, ἀγγέλλειν. Λακεδαιμονίοις 6 ὅτι τῇδε 
+κείμεθα τοῖς κείνων ῥήμασι πειθόμενοι. 
+
+
+Λακεδαιμονίοισι μὲν δὴ τοῦτο, τῷ δὲ μάντι τόδε. 
+
+
+μνῆμα τόδε Κλεινοῖο Mey ría, ὃν ποτε Μήδοι 
+περχειὸν ποταμὸν κτεῖναν ἀμειψάμενοι, 
+μάντιος, ὃς τότε κῆρας ἐπερχομένας σάφα εἰδώς 
+οὐκ ἔτλη Σπάρτης ἡγεμόνα προλιπεῖν. 
+
+
+ἐπιγράμμασι μέν νυν καὶ στήλῃσι, ἔξω ἢ τὸ τοῦ 
+μάντιος ἐπίγραμμα, ᾿Αμϕικτύονες εἰσὶ σφέας οἱ 
+ἐπικοσμήσαντες' τὸ δὲ τοῦ μάντιος Μεγιστίεω 
+Σιμωνίδης ὁ Λεωπρέπεος ἐστὶ κατὰ ξεινίην o 
+ἐπιγράψας. 
+
+229. Δύο δὲ τούτων τῶν τριηκοσίων λέγεται 
+Εὔρυτόν τε καὶ ᾿Αριστόδημον, παρεὸν αὐτοῖσι 
+
+
+1 As a matter of fact Simonides composed all three 
+
+
+544 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 227—229 
+
+
+227. This and other sayings of a like temper 
+are recorded of Dieneces, whereby he is remembered. 
+The next after him to earn the palm of valour 
+were, it is said, two Lacedaemonian brothers, Alpheus 
+and Maron, sons of Orsiphantus. The Thespian who 
+gained most renown was one whose name was 
+Dithyrambus, son of Harmatides. 
+
+228. All these, and they that died before any had 
+departed at Leonidas' bidding, were buried where 
+they fell, and there is an inscription over them, which 
+is this : | 
+
+Four thousand warriors, flower of Pelops' land, 
+
+Did here against three hundred myriads stand. 
+
+
+This is the inscription common to all; the Spartans 
+have one for themselves: 
+
+
+Go tell the Spartans, thou that passest by, 
+That here obedient to their words we lie. 
+
+
+That is for the Lacedaemonians, and this for the 
+seer: 
+
+
+Here fought and fell Megistias, hero brave, 
+
+Slain by the Medes, who crossed Spercheius' wave ; 
+Well knew the seer his doom, but scorned to fly, 
+And rather chose with Sparta's king to die. 
+
+
+The inscriptions and the pillars were set there in 
+their honour by the Amphictyons, except the 
+epitaph of the diviner Megistias; that inscription 
+was made for him for friendship's sake by Simonides 
+son of Leoprepes.! 
+
+
+229. There is a story told concerning two of these 
+three hundred, Eurytus and Aristodemus. Leonidas 
+
+
+inscriptions ; but the epitaph of Megistias was the only one 
+which he made at his own cost. 
+
+
+545 
+VOL. III, N N 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἀμφοτέροισι κοινῷ λόγῳ χρησαμένοισι ἡ amro- 
+σωθῆναι ὁμοῦ ἐς Σπάρτην, ὡς μεμετιμένοι γε 
+ἦσαν ἐκ τοῦ στρατοπέδου ὑπὸ Λεωνίδεω καὶ 
+κατεκέατο ἐν ᾿Αλπηνοῖσι ὀφθαλμιῶντες ἐς τὸ 
+ἔσχατον, ἢ εἴ γε μὴ ἐβούλοντο νοστῆσαι, ἀπο- 
+θανεῖν ἅμα τοῖσι ἄλλοισι, παρεόν σφι τούτων 
+τὰ ἕτερα ποιέειν οὐκ ἐθελῆσαι ὁμοφρονέειν, ἀλλὰ 
+γνώμῃ διενειχθέντας Εὔρυτον μέν, πυθόμενον τῶν 
+Περσέων τὴν περίοδον, αἰτήσαντά τε τὰ ὅπλα 
+καὶ ἐνδύντα ἄγειν ἑωυτὸν κελεῦσαι τὸν εἴλωτα 
+ἐς τοὺς μαχομένους, ὅκως δὲ αὐτὸν ἤγαγε, τὸν μὲν 
+ἀγαγόντα οἴχεσθαι φεύγοντα, τὸν δὲ ἐσπεσόντα 
+ἐς τὸν ὅμιλον διαφθαρῆναι, ᾿Αριστόδημον δὲ 
+λιποψυχέοντα λειφθῆναι. εἰ μέν νυν ἢ μοῦνον 
+᾿Αριστόδημον ἀλγήσαντα" ἀπονοστῆσαι ἐς Σπάρ- 
+την ἢ καὶ ὁμοῦ σφεων ἀμφοτέρων τὴν κομιδὴν 
+γενέσθαι, δοκέειν ἐμοί, οὐκ ἄν σφι Σπαρτιήτας 
+μῆνιν οὐδεμίαν προσθέσθαι" νυνὶ δὲ τοῦ μὲν 
+αὐτῶν ἀπολομένου, τοῦ δὲ τῆς μὲν αὐτῆς ἐχομένου 
+προφάσιος οὐκ .ἐθελήσαντος δὲ ἀποθνήσκειν, ἀν- 
+αγκαίως σφι ἔχειν ΜΠΕ μεγάλως ᾿Αριστο- 
+δήμω. 
+
+230. Ot μέν νυν οὕτω σωθῆναι λέγουσι ᾿Αριστό- 
+nuov ἐ ἐς Σπάρτην καὶ διὰ πρόφασιν τοιήνδε, οἳ δὲ 
+ἄγγελον πεμφθέντα ἐ ἐκ τοῦ στρατοπέδου, ἐξεὸν αὐτῷ 
+καταλαβεῖν. τὴν μάχην γινομένην οὐκ ἐθελῆσαι, 
+ἀλλ. ὑπομείναντα ἐν τῇ ὁδῷ περιγενέσθαι, τὸν δὲ 
+συνάγγελον αὐτοῦ ἀπικόμενον ἐς τὴν μάχην ἆπο- 
+θανεῖν. 
+
+931. ᾿Απονοστήσας δὲ ἐς Λακεδαίμονα ὁ , Δρι- 
+στόδηµος εἶχε ὄνειδός τε καὶ ἀτιμίην' πάσχων 
+δὲ τοιάδε ἠτίμωτο' οὔτε οἱ πῦρ οὐδεὶς ἔναυε 
+
+
+546 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 229-231 
+
+
+had suffered them both to leave the camp, and they 
+were lying at Alpeni, very sick of ophthalmia; they 
+might have both made common cause and returned 
+in safety to Sparta, or if they had no desire to return 
+have died with the rest; but though they might have 
+done one thing or the other, they could not agree, 
+and each followed his own plan. Eurytus, when he 
+learnt of the Persians' circuit, called for his armour 
+and put it on, and bade his helot lead him into the 
+battle; the helot led him thither and then himself 
+fled; and Eurytus rushed into the press and was 
+slain. But Aristodemus' heart failed him, and he 
+stayed behind. Now if Aristodemus alone had been 
+sick, and so returned to Sparta, or if they had betaken 
+themselves home together, then to my thinking the 
+Spartans would have shown no anger against them ; 
+but as it was, when one of the two was slain, and the 
+other had the selfsame pretext to rely upon, yet 
+would not die, they could not but be very wroth with 
+Aristodemus. l 
+
+230. Some, then, say that it was thus and with 
+such an excuse that Aristodemus came safe back to 
+Sparta; according to others he had been sent on a 
+message from the camp, and might have come back 
+in time for the battle’s beginning, yet would not, but 
+lingered on the way and so saved his life; whereas 
+his fellow-messenger returned for the battle and was 
+there slain. | 
+
+231. When Aristodemus returned to Lacedaemon, 
+he was disgraced and dishonoured; this was the 
+manner of his dishonour, that no Spartan would give 
+
+
+1 Stein reads ἀλογήσαντα, of which I can make no good 
+sense. There is MS. authority for both. 
+
+
+547 
+NN 2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Σπαρτιητέων οὔτε διελέγετο. ὄνειδος δὲ εἶχε ὁ 
+τρέσας ᾿Αριστόδημος καλεόμενος. 
+
+239. ᾿Αλλ’ ὃ μὲν ἐν τῇ ἐν Πλαταιῇσι μάχῃ 
+ἀνέλαβε πᾶσαν τὴν ἐπενειχθεῖσαν αἰτίην" λέγεται 
+δὲ καὶ ἄλλον ἀποπεμφθέντα ἄγγελον ἐς Oec- 
+σαλίην τῶν τριηκοσίων τούτων. περιγενέσθαι, τῷ 
+οὔνομα εἶναι .Παντίτην" νοστήσαντα δὲ τοῦτον 
+ἐς Σπάρτην, ὡς ἠτίμωτο, ἀπάγξασθαι. 
+
+233. Oi be Θηβαῖοι, τῶν ὁ Λεοντιάδης ἐστρα- 
+τήγεε, τέως μὲν μετὰ τῶν Ἑλλήνων ἐ ἐόντες ἐμάχοντο 
+ὑπ] ἀναγκαίης ἐχόμενοι πρὸς τὴν βασιλέος στρα- 
+τιήν: ὡς δὲ εἶδον κατυπέρτερα τῶν Περσέων 
+γινόμενα τὰ πρήγματα, οὕτω δή, τῶν σὺν Λεωνίδῃ 
+Ἑλλήνων ἐπειγομένων ἐπὶ τὸν. κολωνόν, ATO- 
+σχισθέντες τούτων χεῖράς. τε προέτεινον καὶ ἤισαν 
+ἆσσον τῶν FRU umi λέγοντες τὸν ἀληθέστατον 
+τῶν λόγων, ὡς καὶ μηδίξουσι καὶ γῆν τε καὶ ὕδωρ 
+ἐν πρώτοισι ἔδοσαν βασιλέι, ὑπὸ δὲ ἀναγκαίης 
+ἐχόμενοι ἐς Θερμοπύλας ἀπικοίατο καὶ ἀναίτιοι 
+εἶεν τοῦ τρώματος τοῦ γεγονότος βασιλέι. ὥστε 
+ταῦτα λέγοντες περιεγίνοντο' εἶχον γὰρ καὶ 
+Θεσσαλοὺς τούτων τῶν λόγων μάρτυρας" οὐ 
+μέντοι τά γε πάντα εὐτύχησαν' ὡς γὰρ αὐτοὺς 
+ἔλαβον οἱ βάρβαροι ἐλθόντας, τοὺς μὲν τινὰς 
+καὶ ἀπέκτειναν προσιόντας, τοὺς δὲ πλεῦνας 
+αὐτῶν κελεύσαντος Ἐϊέρξεω ἔστιξον στίγματα 
+βασιλήια, ἀρξάμενοι ἀπὸ τοῦ στρατηγοῦ Λεοντι- 
+άδεω' τοῦ τὸν παῖδα Εὐρύμαχον χρόνῳ μετέπειτα 
+ἐφόνευσαν Πλαταιέες στρατηγήσαντα ,ἀνδρῶν 
+Θηβαίων τετρακοσίων καὶ σχόντα τὸ ἄστυ τὸ 
+Πλαταιέων. 
+
+284. Οἱ μὲν δὴ περὶ Θερμοπύλας "Ελληνες 
+
+
+548 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 231—234 
+
+
+him fire, nor speak with him; and they called him 
+for disgrace, Aristodemus the coward. 
+
+232. But he repaired all that was laid to his charge 
+in the fight at Plataeae. It is said too that another 
+of the three hundred, whose name was Pantites, was 
+saved alive, carrying a message into Thessaly ; he also 
+returned to Sparta, but being there dishonoured 
+hanged himself. 
+
+233. As for the Thebans, whose general was 
+Leontiades, they were for a while with the Greeks 
+and constrained by necessity to fight against the 
+king's army ; but as soon as they saw the Persians 
+gaining the upper hand, then, when the Greeks with 
+Leonidas were pressing towards the hillock, the 
+Thebans separated from them and drew nigh to the 
+foreigners, holding out their hands and crying that 
+they were the Persians men and had been among 
+the first to give earth and water to the king; it 
+was under constraint (they said) that they had come 
+to Thermopylae, and they were guiltless of the harm 
+done to the king; which was the truest word ever 
+spoken ; so that by this plea they saved their lives, the 
+Thessalians being there to bear witness to what they 
+said. Howbeit they were not wholly fortunate ; 
+for when the foreigners caught them coming, they 
+even slew some of them as they drew near; the most 
+of them were branded by Xerxes' command with the 
+king's marks, from their general Leontiades down. 
+wards. This is he whose son Eurymachus long 
+afterwards! put himself at the head of four hundred 
+Thebans and seized the citadel of Plataeae, but was 
+slain by the Plataeans. 
+
+234. Thus did the Greeks at Thermopylae contend. 
+
+
+1 In 431; cp. Thucyd. II. 2 ff. 
+549 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οὕτω ἠγωνίσαντο, Ἐέρξης δὲ καλέσας Δημάρητον 
+εἰρώτα ἀρξάμενος ἐνθένδε. “ Δημάρητε, ἀνὴρ εἷς 
+ἀγαθὸς. τἐκμαίρομαι δὲ τῇ ἀληθείῃ ὅσα γὰρ 
+εἶπας, ἅπαντα ἀπέβη οὕτω. νῦν δέ μοι εἰπέ, 
+κόσοι τινὲς εἰσὶ οἱ λοιποὶ Λακεδαιμόνιοι, καὶ 
+τούτων ὁκόσοι τοιοῦτοι τὰ πολέμια εἴτε καὶ 
+ἅπαντες. ὃ Ò εἶπε “Q βασιλεῦ, πλῆθος μὲν 
+πολλὸν πάντων τῶν Λακεδαιμονίων καὶ πόλιες 
+πολλαί τὸ δὲ θέλεις ἐκμαθεῖν, εἰδήσεις. ἔστι 
+ἐν τῇ Λακεδαίμονι Σπάρτη πόλις ἀνδρῶν ὁ ὀκτακισ- 
+χιλίων μάλιστα, καὶ οὗτοι πάντες εὐσὶ ὅμοιοι 
+τοῖσι ἐνθάδε μαχεσαμένοισι" οἵ γε μὲν ἄλλοι 
+Λακεδαιμόνιοι. τούτοισι μὲν οὐκ ὅμοιοι, ἀγαθοὶ 
+δέ. εἶπε πρὸς ταῦτα Ἐξέρξης i Δημάρητε, τέῳ 
+τρόπῳ ἀπονητότατα τῶν ἀνδρῶν τούτων ἐπι- 
+κρατήσομεν ; ; ἴθι ἐξηγέο σὺ γὰρ ἔχεις αὐτῶν 
+τὰς διεξόδους τῶν βουλευμάτων ola βασιλεὺς 
+γενόμενος. 
+
+285. Ὃ & ἀμείβετο “NQ βασιλεῦ, εἰ μὲν δὴ 
+συμβουλεύεαί μοι προθύμως, δίκαιόν µε σοί ἐστι 
+φράξειν τὸ ἄριστον' εἰ τῆς ναυτικῆς στρατιῆς 
+νέας τριηκοσίας ἀποστείλειας ἐπὶ τὴν Λάκαιναν 
+χώρην. ἔστι δὲ ἐπ᾿ αὐτῇ νῆσος ἐπικειμένη τῇ 
+οὔνομα ἐστὶ Κύθηρα, τ τὴν Χίλων ἀνὴρ παρ ἡμῖν 
+σοφώτατος γενόμενος. κέρδος μέζον ἂν ἔφη εἶναι 
+
+παρτιήτῃσι κατὰ τῆς θαλάσσης καταδεδυκέναι 
+μᾶλλον ἢ ὑπερέχειν, αἰεί τί προσδοκῶν ἀπ᾽ αὐτῆς 
+τοιοῦτο ἔσεσθαι οἷόν τοι ἐγὼ ἐξηγέομαι, οὔτι τὸν 
+σὸν στόλον προειδώς, ἀλλὰ πάντα ὁμοίως φοβε- 
+ὀμενος ἀνδρῶν στόλον. ἐκ ταύτης τῆς νήσου 
+ὁρμώμενοι φοβεόντων τοὺς Λακεδαιμονίους. παρ- 
+οἴκου δὲ πολέμου σφι ἐόντος οἰκηίου, οὐδὲν 
+550 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 234-235 
+
+
+Xerxes then sent for Demaratus and questioned him, 
+saying first, ** Demaratus, you are a right good man. 
+I hold that proved by the plain truth; for the event 
+has been none other than what you foretold. Now, 
+tell me this: how many are the Lacedaemonians that 
+are left, and how many of them are warriors like 
+these? or is it so with them all?" “O king,” said 
+Demaratus, *the Lacedaemonians altogether are 
+many in number, and their cities are many. But 
+what you would know, I will tell you: there is in 
+Lacedaemon a city called Sparta, a city of about 
+eight thousand men, all of them equal to those who 
+have here fought; the rest of the Lacedaemonians 
+are not equal to these; yet they are valiant men." 
+* And how, Demaratus," answered Xerxes, “ shall we 
+with least ado master those men? Come, make that 
+plain to me; for you have been their king, and know 
+the plan and order of their counsels.” 
+
+235. “O king," Demaratus replied, “if you do in 
+sincerity ask my counsel, it is but right that I should 
+point out to you the best way. It is this: that you 
+should send three hundred ships of your fleet to the 
+Laconian land. There is an island lying off their 
+coasts called Cythera, whereof it was said by Chilon, 
+a man of much wisdom among us, that for the 
+Spartans' advantage Cythera were better beneath the 
+sea than above it; for he ever looked that some 
+such business should spring from thence as I now set 
+before you; not that he had any foreknowledge of 
+your armament, but he dreaded all men's armaments 
+alike. Let them then make that island their station 
+and issue thence to strike fear into the Lacedae- 
+monians ; if these have a war of their own on their 
+borders, you will have no cause to fear lest they send 
+
+
+551 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δεινοὶ ἔσονταί τοι μὴ τῆς ἄλλης Ἑλλάδος ἁλι- 
+σκομένης ὑπὸ τοῦ ' πεξοῦ βοηθέωσι ταύτῃ. KATA- 
+δουλωθείσης δὲ τῆς ἄλλης Ἑλλάδος ἀσθενὲς ἤδη 
+τὸ Λακωνικὸν μοῦνον λείπεται. ἣν δὲ ταῦτα μὴ 
+ποιέης, τάδε τοι προσδόκα ἔσεσθαι. ἔστι τῆς 
+Πελοποννήσου ἰσθμὸς στεινός' ἐν τούτῳ τῷ χώρῳ 
+πάντων. Πελοποννησίων συνομοσάντων ἐπὶ σοὶ 
+μάχας ἰσχυροτέρας ἄλλας τῶν γενομενέων προσ- 
+δέκεο ἔσεσθαί. τοι. ἐκεῖνο δὲ ποιήσαντι ἀμαχητὶ 
+ὅ τε ἰσθμὸς οὗτος καὶ αἱ πόλιες προσχωρήσουσι. 4 
+
+236. Λέγει μετὰ τοῦτον ᾿Αχαιμένης, ἀδελφεός 
+τε ἐὼν Ξέρξεω καὶ τοῦ ναυτικοῦ στρατοῦ στρατη- 
+γός, παρατυχών τε τῷ λόγῳ καὶ δείσας μὴ ava- 
+γνωσθῇ Ξέρξης ποιέειν ταῦτα, “NA βασιλεῦ, ὁ ὁρῶ 
+σε ἀνδρὸς ἐνδεκόμενον λόγους ὃς φθονέει τοι εὖ 
+πρήσσοντι 7 καὶ προδιδοῖ πρήγματα τὰ σά. καὶ 
+γὰρ δὴ καὶ τρόποισι τοιούτοισι χρεώμενοι Ἕλλη- 
+ves χαίρουσι" τοῦ τε εὐτυχέειν φθονέουσι καὶ τὸ 
+κρέσσον στυγέουσι. εἰ δ᾽ ἐπὶ τῇσι παρεούσῃσι 
+τύχῃσι, τῶν νέες νεναυηγήκασι τετρακόσιαι, 
+ἄλλας ἐκ τοῦ στρατοπέδου τριηκοσίας ἀποπέμψεις 
+περιπλέειν Πελοπόννησον, ἀξιόμαχοί τοι γίνονται 
+οἱ ἀντίπαλοι' ἁλὴς δὲ ἐὼν ὁ ναυτικὸς στρατὸς 
+δυσμεταχείριστός τε αὐτοῖσι γίνεται, καὶ ἀρχὴν 
+οὐκ ἀξιόμαχοί τοι ἔσονται, καὶ πᾶς ὁ ναυτικὸς τῷ 
+πεζῷ ἀρήξει καὶ ὁ πεξὸς τῷ ναυτικῷ ὁμοῦ πορευό- 
+μενος" εἰ δὲ διασπάσεις, οὔτε σὺ ἔσεαι ἐκείνοισι 
+χρήσιμος οὔτε ἐκεῖνοι σοί. τὰ σεωτοῦ δὲ τιθέμενον 
+εὖ γνώμην ἔχω τὰ τῶν ἀντιπολέμων μὴ ἐπιλέ- 
+γεσθαι πρήγματα, τῇ τε στήσονται τὸν πόλεμον 
+τά τε ποιήσουσι ὅσοι τε πλῆθος εἰσί. ἱκανοὶ γὰρ 
+ἐκεῖνοί γε αὐτοὶ ἑωυτῶν πέρι φροντίξειν εἰσί, 
+552 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 235-236 
+
+
+men to save the rest of Hellas from being overrun by 
+your armies: and the enslavement of the rest of 
+Hellas must weaken Laconia, if it be thus left 
+to stand alone. But if you will not do this, then 
+look for that whereof I tell you: a narrow isthmus 
+leads to the Peloponnese ; all the Peloponnesians will 
+be there banded together against you, and you may 
+expect battles more stubborn than those that you 
+have fought already. But if you do as I have said, 
+then you may have that isthmus and all their cities 
+without striking a blow." 
+
+236. Next spoke Achaemenes, Xerxes' brother and 
+adiniral of the fleet; it chanced that he was present 
+at their converse, and he feared lest Xerxes be over- 
+persuaded to follow Demaratus' counsel. “Ο king," 
+said he, *I see that you are hearkening to a man 
+who is jealous of your good fortune or perchance is 
+even à traitor to your cause. These are the ways 
+that are dear to the hearts of all Greeks: they are 
+jealous of success and they hate power. Nay, if after - 
+the late calamity which has wrecked four hundred of 
+your ships you send away three hundred more from 
+your fleet to sail round the Peloponnese, your enemies 
+will be enough to do battle with you; but while your 
+fleet is united, it is thereby invincible, and your 
+enemies will not so much as be enough to fight ; 
+moreover, all your navy will be a help to your army 
+and your army to your navy, both moving together ; 
+but if you separate some from yourself, you will be of 
+no use to them, nor they to you. My counsel is 
+rather that you lay your own plans well, and take no 
+account of the business of your adversaries, what 
+battlefields they will choose, and what they will do, 
+and how many they be. They are well able to think 
+
+
+553 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἡμεῖς δὲ ἡμέων ὡσαύτως. Λακεδαιμόνιοι δὲ ἦν 
+ἴωσι ἀντία , Πέρσῃσι ἐς μάχην, οὐδὲν τὸ παρεὸν 
+τρῶμα ἀκεῦνται. 
+
+237. ᾽Αμείβεται Ἐέρξης τοῖσιδε. ''᾿Αχαίμενες, 
+εὖ τε µοι δοκέεις λέγειν καὶ ποιήσω ταῦτα. Δημά- 
+ρητος δὲ λέγει μὲν τὰ ἄριστα ἔλπεται εἶναι Epo, 
+γνώμῃ μέντοι ἑσσοῦται ὑπὸ σεῦ. οὐ γὰρ δὴ κεῖνό γε 
+ἐνδέξομαι ὅ ὅκως οὐκ εὐνοέει τοῖσι ἐμοῖσι πρήγμασι, 
+τοῖσί τε λεγομένοισι πρότερον ἐκ τούτου σταθμώ- 
+μενος καὶ τῷ ἐόντι, ὅτι, πολιήτης μὲν πολιήτῃ εὖ 
+πρήσσοντι φθονέει καὶ ἔστι δυσμενὴς τῇ σιγῇ, οὐδ᾽ 
+ἂν συμ βουλενομένου τοῦ ἀστοῦ πολιήτης ἀνὴρ τὰ 
+ἄριστά οἱ δοκέοντα εἶναι ὑποθέοιτο, εἰ -μὴ πρόσω 
+ἀρετῆς ἀνήκοι" σπάνιοι δὲ εἰσὶ οἱ τοιοῦτοι" ξεῖνος 
+δὲ ξείνῳ εὖ πρήσσοντι ἐστὶ εὐμενέστατον πάντων, 
+συμβουλευομένου τε ἂν συμβουλεύσειε τὰ ἄριστα. 
+οὕτω ὧν κακολογίης t τῆς ἐς Δημάρητον, ἐόντος 
+ἐμοὶ ξείνου πέρι, ἔχεσθαι τινὰ τοῦ λοιποῦ κελεύω.” 
+
+238. Ταῦτα εἴπας Ξέρξης διεξήιε διὰ τῶν 
+νεκρῶν, καὶ Λεωνίδεω, ἀκηκοὼς ὅτι βασιλεύς τε 
+ἦν καὶ στρατηγὸς Λακεδαιμονίων, ἐκέλευσε ἀπο- 
+ταμόντας τὴν κεφαλὴν ἀνασταυρῶσαι. δῆλά μοι 
+πολλοῖσι μὲν καὶ ἄλλοισι τεκμηρίοισι, ἐν δὲ καὶ 
+τῷδε οὐκ ἥκιστα γέγονε, ὅτι βασιλεὺς Ξέρξης 
+πάντων δὴ μάλιστα ἀνδρῶν ἐθυμώθη ξῶντι Aew- 
+νίδη οὐ γὰρ ἄ ἄν κοτε ἐς τὸν νεκρὸν ταῦτα παρενό- 
+µησε, ἐπεὶ τιμᾶν μάλιστα νομίξουσι τῶν ἐγὼ οἶδα 
+ἀνθρώπων Πέρσαι ἄνδρας ἀγαθοὺς τὰ πολέμια. 
+οἳ μὲν δὴ ταῦτα ἐποίευν, τοῖσι ἐπετέτακτο ποιέειν. 
+
+239. ᾿Ανειμι δὲ ἐκεῖσε τοῦ λόγου τῇ μοι τὸ 
+
+
+1 [περὶ] κακολογίης Stein. 
+554 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 236-239 
+
+
+for themselves, and we likewise for ourselves. Ας 
+for the Lacedaemonians, if they meet the Persians 
+in the field, they will in nowise repair their late 
+hurts." 
+
+237. ** Achaemenes,” Xerxes answered, ** methinks 
+you say well, and I will do as you counsel. But 
+Demaratus, albeit your advice is better than his, 
+says what he supposes to be most serviceable to me: 
+for assuredly I will never believe that he is no friend 
+to my cause; I judge that he is so by all that he has 
+already said, and by what is the truth, namely, that if 
+one citizen prosper another citizen is jealous of him 
+and shows his enmity by silence, and no one (except 
+he have attained to the height of excellence; and 
+such are seldom seen) if his own townsman asks for 
+counsel will give him what he deems the best advice. 
+But if one stranger prosper, another stranger is beyond. 
+all men his well-wisher, and will if he be asked impart 
+to him the best counsel he has. Wherefore I bid 
+you all refrain from maligning Demaratus, seeing 
+that he is a stranger and my friend." 
+
+238. Having thus spoken, Xerxes passed over the 
+place where the dead lay ; and hearing that Leonidas 
+had been king and general of the Lacedaemonians, 
+he bade cut off his head and impale it. Itis plain to 
+me by this especial proof among many others, that 
+while Leonidas lived king Xerxes was more incensed 
+against him than against all others; else had he 
+never dealt so outrageously with his dead body; for 
+the Persians are of all men known to me the most 
+wont to honour valiant warriors. So they who were 
+thus charged did as I have said. 
+
+239. I return now to that place in my history 
+
+
+555 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+πρότερον ἐξέλιπε. ἐπύθοντο Λακεδαιμόνιοι ὅτι 
+βασιλεὺς στέλλοιτο ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα πρῶτοι, καὶ 
+οὕτω δὴ ἐς τὸ χρηστήριον τὸ ἐς Δελφοὺς ἀπέπεμ- 
+‘par, ἔνθα δή σφι ἐχρήσθη. τὰ ὀλίγῳ πρότερον 
+εἶπον" ἐπύθοντο δὲ τρόπῳ θωμασίῳ. Δημάρητος 
+γὰρ ὁ ᾿Αρίστωνος φυγὼν ἐς Μήδους, ὡς uev ἐγὼ 
+δοκέω καὶ τὸ οἰκὸς ἐμοὶ συμμάχεται, οὐκ ἣν εὔνοος 
+Λακεδαιμονίοισι, πάρεστι δὲ εἰκάξειν eire εὐνοίῃ 
+ταῦτα ἐποίησε εἴτε καὶ καταχαίρων. ἐπείτε γὰρ 
+Ξέρξῃ ἔδοξε στρατηλατέειν ἐπὶ τὴν Ελλάδα, ἐὼν 
+ἐν Σούσοισι ὁ Δημάρητος καὶ πυθόμενος ταῦτα 
+ἠθέλησε Λακεδαιμονίοισι ἐξαγγεῖλαι. ἄλλως μὲν 
+δὴ οὐκ εἶχε σημῆναι: ἐπικίνδυνον γὰρ ἦν μὴ 
+λαμϕθείη' ὃ δὲ μηχανᾶται τοιάδε" δελτίον δί- 
+πτυχον λαβὼν τὸν κηρὸν αὐτοῦ ἐξέκνησε, καὶ 
+ἔπειτα ἐν τῷ ξύλῳ τοῦ δελτίου ἔγραψε τὴν βα- 
+σιλέος γνώμην, ποιήσας ὲ ταῦτα ὀπίσω ἐπέτηξε 
+τὸν κηρὸν ἐπὶ τὰ γράμματα, ἵνα φερόμενον κεινὸν 
+τὸ δελτίον μηδὲν πρῆγμα παρέχοι πρὸς τῶν 
+ὀδοφυλάκων. ἐπεὶ δὲ καὶ ἀπίκετο ἐς τὴν Λακε- 
+δαίμονα, οὐκ εἶχον συμβαλέσθαι οἱ Λακεδαιμόνιοι, 
+πρίν ye δή σφι, ὡς ἐγὼ πυνθάνομαι, Κλεομένεος 
+μὲν θυγάτηρ Λεωνίδεω δὲ γυνὴ Γοργὼ ὑπέθετο 
+ἐπιφρασθεῖσα αὐτή, τὸν κηρὸν κνᾶν κελεύουσα, 
+καὶ εὑρήσειν σφέας γράμματα ἐν τῷ ξύλῳ. πειθό- 
+μενοι δὲ εὗρον καὶ ἐπελέξαντο, ἔπειτα δὲ τοῖσι 
+ἄλλοισι"Ελλησι ἐπέστειλαν. ταῦτα μὲν δὴ οὕτω 
+λέγεται γενέσθαι. 
+
+
+1 220, where Herodotus mentioned the bare fact of the 
+
+
+556 
+
+
+BOOK VII. 239 
+
+
+where it lately left off! The Lacedaemonians were 
+the first to be informed that the king was equipping 
+himself to attack Hellas; with this knowledge it was 
+that they sent to the oracle at Delphi, where they 
+received the answer whereof I spoke a little while 
+ago; and the way of their being so informed was 
+strange. Demaratus son of Ariston, being an exile 
+among the Medes, was, as I suppose (reason being 
+also my ally), no friend to the Lacedaemonians, and 
+I leave it to be imagined whether what he did was 
+done out of goodwill or despiteful triumph. Xerxes 
+being resolved to march against Hellas, Demaratus, 
+who was then at Susa and had knowledge of this, 
+desired to send word of it to the Lacedaemonians. 
+But he feared to be detected, and had no other way 
+of acquainting them than this trick :—taking a double 
+tablet, he scraped away the wax from it, and then 
+wrote the king's intent on the wood ; which done, he 
+melted the wax back again over the writing, so that 
+the bearer of the tablet thus left blank might not be : 
+troubled by the way-wardens. When the tablet came 
+to Lacedaemon, the Lacedaemonians could not guess 
+its meaning, till at last (as I have been told) Gorgo, 
+Cleomenes’ daughter and Leonidas’ wife, discovered 
+the trick of herself and advised them to scrape the 
+wax away, when they would find writing on the 
+wood. So doing, they found and read the message, 
+and presently sent it to the rest of the Greeks. This 
+is the story, as it is told. 
+
+
+Spartans getting early intelligence of Xerxes’ plans against 
+Greece. Now he completes the story. 
+
+
+557 
+
+
+Digitized by Google 
+
+
+INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 
+
+
+Abdera, vi. 46, 47; vii. 109, 120, 126, 
+137 
+
+
+Abrocomes, vii. 224 
+
+Abydos, v. 117; vi. 26; vii. 33, 34, 37, 
+44, 95, 147, 174 
+
+Acanthus, vi. 44; vii. 115, 116, 121 
+
+Acarrania, vii. 126, 221 
+
+Achaea, v. 72; vii. 94, 132, 173, 185, 
+196, 197, 198 
+
+Achaemenes, vii. 7, 11, 97, 236 
+
+Achaemenidae, v. 32; vii. 62 
+
+Achelous, vii. 126 
+
+Acheron, v. 92 
+
+Achilleium, v. 94 
+
+Acragas, vii. 165, 170 
+
+Acrathoum, vii. 22 
+
+Acrisius, vi. 53, 54 
+
+Adimantus, vii. 137 
+
+Adrastus, v. 67 
+
+Adria, v. 9 
+
+Aea, vii. 193, 197 
+
+Aeaces, vi. 13, 14, 22, 25 
+
+Aeacus, v. 81, 89; vi. 35 
+
+Aege, vii, 123 
+
+Aegean, vii, 36, 65 
+
+Aegialeus, v. 68 
+
+Aegialian, vii. 94 
+
+Aegicores, v. 66 
+
+Aegilea, vi. 107 
+
+Aegilia, vi. 101 
+
+Aegina, v. 80-91; vi. 35-49, 50, 61, 
+13, 85, 87-93 ; vii. 145, 147,181, 205 
+
+Aenea, vii. 123 
+
+Aenesidemus, vii. 154, 165 
+
+Aenus, vii. 58 
+
+Aenyra, vi. 47 
+
+Aeolians, v. 94, 122 
+58, 95, 176, 197 
+
+Aeolus, vii. 197 
+
+Aeschines, vi. 100 
+
+Aetolia, vi. 127 
+
+Agaeus, vi. 127 
+
+Agamemnon, vii. 134, 159 
+
+
+HEROD III. 
+
+
+; vi. 8, 28, 98; vii. 
+
+
+Agariste, vi. 126, 128, 131 
+
+Agbalus, vii. 98 
+
+Agenor, vii. 91 
+
+Agetus, vi. 61 
+
+Agis, vi. 65; vii. 204 
+
+Agora, vii. 58 
+
+Agrianes, v. 16 
+
+Aias, v. 66; vi. 35 
+
+Alabanda, vii. 195 
+
+Alarodii, vii. 79 
+
+Alcaeus, v. 95 
+
+Alcamenes, vii. 204 
+
+Alcides, vi. 61 
+
+Alcimachus, vi. 101 
+
+Alemaeonidae, v. 62, 66, 70, 71, 90; 
+vi. 115, 121-124, 125, 127, 131 
+
+Alcon, vi. 127 
+
+Aleian plain, vi. 95 
+
+Aleuadae, vii. 6 
+
+Alexander, v. 17; vii. 173 
+
+Alopecae, v. 63 
+
+Alpeni, vii. 176, 216 
+
+Alpheus, vii. 227 
+
+Alus, vii. 173, 197 
+
+Amathus, v. 104, 108, 114 
+
+Amestris, vii. 61, 114 
+
+Amiantus, vi. 127 
+
+Amilcas, vii. 165-167 
+
+Aminocles, vii. 190 
+
+Amorges, v. 121 
+
+Ampe, vi. 20 
+
+Ampelus, vii. 122 
+
+Amphictyones, v. 62; vii. 213, 228 
+
+Amphilochus, vii. 91 
+
+Amphimnestus, vi. 127 
+
+Amphion, v. 92 
+
+Amphitryon, v. 59; vi. 53 
+
+Amyntas, v. 18, 94; vii. 173 
+
+Amyris, vi. 127 
+
+Anaphes, vii. 62 
+
+Anaua, vii. 30 
+
+Anaxandrides, v. 39, 40, 61; vi. 108; 
+vii, 158, 203, 205 
+
+
+559 
+
+
+INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 
+
+
+Anaxandrus, vii. 204 
+Anaxilaus, vii. 165, 170 
+
+
+us, 
+Andromeda, vii, 61, 150 
+Andros, v. 31 
+Aneristus, vii. 134 
+Angites, vii. 113 
+
+
+Antandrus, v. 26 ; vii. 42 
+Anthele, vil. 176, "200 
+Anthemus, v. 94 
+Antichares, v. 43 
+Anticyra, vii. 198, 213 
+Antipatrus, vii. 118 
+Antiphemus, vii. 153 
+An , vii. 98 
+Ap etae, vii. 193, 196 
+Aphidnae, vi. 109 
+Aphytis, vii. 123 
+Api anus, vli. 129, 196 
+Apollo, v. 59, 60; vi. 57, 118; vii. 26 
+Apollophanes, vi. 26 
+Apsinthus, vi. 34, 37 
+Arabians, vii. 69, 86 
+Aradian, vii. 98 
+Arcadia, v. 49; vi. 74, 83, 127; vii. 
+
+90, 170, 202 
+Archelai, v. 68 
+Archelaus, vii. 204 
+Archidemus, vi. 71 
+Ardericca, vi. 119 
+Ares, v. 7; vii. 76, 140 
+
+
+Argos, v. 22, 49, 57, 61, 67, 86, 88, 113; 
+
+m 19, 76-83, 92, 127; vii, 145, 148- 
+2 
+
+Ariabignes, vii. 97 
+
+Ariaramnes, vii. 11 
+
+Ariazus, vii. 82 
+
+Aridolis, vii. 195 
+
+Arii, vii, 62, 66 
+
+Ariomardus, vii. 6 7,78 
+
+Ariphron, kroi 136; vii. 33 
+
+Aristagoras passim ap. ᾿ν.; vi. 9, 13, 18 
+
+Aristocyprus, v. 113 
+
+Aristodemus (1), vi. 51, 52; vii. 204 
+
+— (2), vii. 229, 230 
+
+Aristogiton, v. 50; vi. 109 
+
+Aristomachus, vi. 61; vii. 204 
+
+Ariston, v. 51, 75; vi. 61-69 
+
+
+560 
+
+
+Aristonice, vii. 140 
+Aristophantus, vi. 66 
+Armatides, vii. 227 
+Armenia, v. 49, 52; vii. 73 
+Arsamenes, vii. 68 
+
+
+Artaphrenes (1), v. 25, 30, 31, 32, 33, 
+73, τ 100, 123; vi. 1, 2, 4, 30, 42, 
+
+
+— (2), vii. 74 
+
+Artaxerxes, vi. 98; vii. 106, 151, 152 
+
+Artayctes, vii. 33, 78 
+
+Artazostre, vi. 43 
+
+Artemis, v. 7; vi. 138; vii. 176 
+
+Artemisia, vii. 99 
+
+Artemisium, vii, 175, 177, 182, 192, 
+194, 195 
+
+Artobarzanes, vii. 2, 3 
+
+Artochmes, vii. 73 
+
+Artybius, v. 108, 111, 112 
+
+Artyntes, vii. 6 
+
+Artyphius, vil 66, 67 
+
+Artystone, vii. 69 
+
+
+Asia, passim 
+
+Asonides, vii. 181 
+
+Asopus, vi. 108; vii. 199, 200, 217 
+
+Aspathines, vii, '97 
+
+Assa, vii. 122 
+
+Assyria, vi. 54; vii. 9, 63 
+
+Astacus, v. 67 
+
+Aster, v. 63 
+
+Astrabacus, vi. 69 
+
+Astyages, vii. 8 
+
+Atarneus, vi. 28, 29; vii. 42 
+
+Athamas, vii. 58, 197 
+
+Athenades, vii. 213 
+
+Athene, v. 45, 82; vii. 43 
+
+EET passim ; esp. v. 59-99 and vi. 
+
+xn vi. 44, 45; vii. 22, 37, 122, 
+9 
+
+Atossa, vii. 2, 3, 64, 82 
+
+Atramyttium, vii. 42 
+
+Atys (1), vii. 27 
+
+— (2), vii. 74 
+
+Autesion, vi. 52 
+
+Auxesia, v. 82, 83 
+
+
+INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 
+
+
+Axius, vii. 123, 124 
+Azanes, vii.'66 
+Azenian, vi. 127 
+
+
+Babylon, vii. 62 
+Bacchiadae, v. 92 
+
+
+Bisaltia, vii. 115 
+
+Bisanthe, vii. 137 
+
+Bistones, vii. 109-110 
+
+Bithynia, vii. 75 
+
+Boebean lake, vii. 129 
+
+Boeotia, v. 57, 59, 61, 67, 74, 77, 81, 
+89; vi. 34, 108; vii. 132, 202 
+
+Boges, vii. 107, 113 
+
+Boreas, vii. 189 
+
+Bosporus, vii, 10, 20 
+
+Bottiaea, vii. 123, 127, 185 
+
+Branchidae, v. 36 
+
+Brauron, vi. 138 
+
+Briantice, vii. 108 
+
+Briges, vii. 73 
+
+Brygi, vi. 45; vii. 185 
+
+Bubares, v. 21; vii. 22 
+
+Bulis, vii. 135, 137 
+
+Butacides, v. 47 
+
+Byzantium, v. 26, 104; vi. 5, 26, 33 
+
+
+Cabelees, vii. 77 
+
+Cadmus (1), v. 57, 58, 59, 61 
+
+— (2), vii. 163, 164, 165 
+
+Caicus, vi. 28; "vii. 42 
+
+Calchas, vii. 91 
+
+Calchedon, v. 26 
+
+Callatebus, vii. 31 
+
+Callias (1), v. 44, 45 
+
+— (2), vi. 121, 122 ; vii. 151 
+Callimachus, vi. 109, 110, 111, 114 
+Callipolis, vii. 154 
+
+Calymnus, vii. 99 
+
+Camarina, vii. 154, 156 
+Cambyses, y. 25; vii. 1, 8, 11, 18, 51 
+Camicus, vii. 169, 170 
+
+Campsa, vii. 123 
+
+Canastraeum, vii. 123 
+
+Candaules, vii. 98 
+
+Cane, vii. 42 
+
+
+VOL. Ill. 
+
+
+Cappadocia, v. s 52 
+
+Carchedon, v. 42; vi. 17; vii. 165-167 
+
+Cardia, vi. 33, 36 41; vii. 58 
+
+Carenus, vii. 173 
+
+Caria, v. 66, 87, 103, 111, 112, 118-121, 
+122; vi. 20, 26; vii. 31, 93, 97, 98 
+
+Carine, vii. 42 
+
+Carnea, vii. 206 
+
+Carystus, vi. 99; vii. 214 
+
+Casambus, vi. 73 
+
+Casmena, vii. 155 
+
+Caspian, vii. 67, 86 
+
+Caspiri, vii. 86 
+
+Casthanaea, vii. 183, 188 
+
+Cataractes, vii. 26 
+
+Caucasa, v. 33 
+
+Caunus, v. 103 
+
+Caystrius, v. 100 
+
+Cecrops, vii. 141 
+
+Celaenae, vii. 26 
+
+Celeas, v. 46 
+
+Ceos, v. 102 
+
+Cephenes, vii. 61 
+
+Cepheus, vii. 61, 150 
+
+Cephissus, vii. 178 
+
+Chalcis, v. 74, XE 91, 99; vi, 100, 118; 
+vii. 182, 185 '89 
+
+Chaldeans, vii. 63 
+
+Chalestra, vii. 123 
+
+Charopinus, v. 99 
+
+Chersis, v. 104, 113 
+
+Chersonesus, vi. 33, 36-41, 103, 104, 
+140; vii. 33, 58 
+
+-— (of Athos), vii. 22 
+
+Chilon, vi. 65; vii. 235 
+
+tS v. 34, 98; vi. 2, 5, 15, 16, 26, 27, 
+
+Choaspes, v. 49 
+
+Choereae, vi. 101 
+
+Choerus, ii. 170 
+
+Cicones, vii. 110 
+
+Cilicia, v. 49, 52, 108; vi. 6, 43; vii. 
+71, 91, 98 
+
+Cimmerians, vii. 20 
+
+στῶ, SE 0» vi. 34, 39, 103 
+
+
+Cissians, v. 49, 52; vi. 119; vii. 62, 86, 
+210 l 
+
+Cithaeron, vii. 141 
+
+Clazomenae, v. 123 
+
+Cleandrus (1), vi. 83 
+
+— (2), vii. 154, 156 
+
+
+561 
+
+
+INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 
+
+
+Oleisthenes (Athens), v. 66,67, 69, 70, 
+72, 73; vi. 131 
+
+— (Sicyon), v. 67, 68, 126-130, 131 
+
+Cleodaeus, vi, 52; vii. 904 
+
+Cleombrotus, v. 32, 41; vii. 205 
+
+Cleomenes, v. 89, 42, 48-51, 64, 70, 
+72-76, 90, 97; vi. 50, 51, 61, 64-66, 
+73-84, 92, 108; vii. 203, 239 
+
+Oleonae vii, 22 
+
+Cnoethus, vi. 88 
+
+Cobon, vi. 66 
+
+Codrus, v. 65, 76 
+
+Coenyra, vi. 41 
+
+Coes, v. 11, 37, 38 
+
+Colchis, vii. 62, τν 193, 197 
+
+Combrea, vii, 1 
+
+Compsantus, vii, 3 09 
+
+Conia, v. 63 
+
+Corcyra, vii. 145-154, 168 
+
+Coressus, v. 100 
+
+Corinth, v. 74, 75, 87, 92, 93; vi. 89, 
+108; vii. 137, 184, 195, 202” 
+
+Corydallus, vii, 214 
+
+Cos, vii. 99 
+
+Cranon, vi. 127 
+
+Crastian, v. 45 
+
+Crathis, v. 45 
+
+Crestonaean, v. 3; vii. 124, 127 
+
+Crete, vii. 92, 99, 145, 169-171 
+
+Cretines, vii, 165, 
+
+
+Crius, vii. 50, 73 
+
+Croesus, v. 36; vi. 37, 38, 125, 127 
+
+Crossaea, vii. 123 
+
+Croton, v. 44, 45, 47; vi. 21 
+
+Cuphagoras, vi. 117 
+
+Curium, v. 113 
+
+Cybebe, v. 102 
+
+Cyberniscus, vit. 98 
+
+Cyclades, v. 31 
+
+Cydippe, vii. 165 
+
+Cydrara, vii. 30 
+
+Cyllyrians, vii, 155 
+
+Cylon, vi. 70 
+
+Cyme, v. 37, 38, 123; vii. 194 
+aegirus, vi. 114 
+
+
+σος v. 63; vi. 116 
+Cypselus (Athens), vi. 34 
+— (Corinth), v. 92, 95; vi. 129 
+Cyprus, v. 9, 31, 104, 108-110, 113, 
+115; en vil, θη, 98 
+Cyrnus, vii . 165 
+
+
+562 
+
+
+Cyrus, v. 52; vii. 2, 8, 11, 18, 51, 69 
+Cythera, vii. "235 
+
+Cythnus, vii. 90" 
+
+Cytissorus, vii. 197 
+
+Cyzicus, vi. 33 
+
+
+Dadicae, vii. 66 
+
+
+74, w^ 
+
+Daurises, v. 116, 121, 122 
+
+Deceles, vi. 92 
+
+Delos, vi. 97-99, 118 
+
+Delphi, v. 62, 63, 89, 92; vi. 19, 27. 
+34, 35, 52, 66; vii. 11i, 140, 141, 
+148, 165, 169, 178 
+
+Demaratus, v. 75; vi. 51, 61, 63-71, 
+74, 75, 84; vii. "101-104, 234, 237, 
+239 
+
+
+Demarmenus, v. 41; vi. 65 
+
+Demeter, vi. 91, 134; vii. 142 
+
+Demonous, vii, 195 
+
+Demophilus, vii, 222 
+
+Dersaei, vii. 110 
+
+Diactorides, vii. 71 
+
+Diadromes, vii. 222 
+
+Dicaea, vii. 109 
+
+Didyma, vi. 19 
+
+Dieneces, vii. 226 
+
+Dinomenes, vii. 145 
+
+Dionysius, vi. 11, 12, 17 
+
+Dionysus, v, 7; vii, 111 
+
+ως 197 ; 
+
+Dithyrambus, 22 
+
+Dium, vii. 22 
+
+Doberes, v. 16; vii. 13 
+
+Dolonci, vi. 34, 35, 36 
+
+Dolopes, vii. 132, 185 
+
+Dorians, v. 68, 72, 76, 87; vi. 53. 55; 
+vii. 9, 99 
+
+Dorieus, v. 41-48; vii. 158, 205 
+
+Doriscus, v. 98; vil. 25, 59, 105, 106. 
+108, 121 
+
+
+INDEX OF PROPER NAMES. 
+
+
+Echecrates, v. 92 
+
+Echestratus, vii. 204 
+
+Echidorus, vii. 124, 127 
+
+Edonian, v. 11, 124; vii. 110, 114 
+
+Eetion, v. 92 
+
+Egesta, v. 46, 47 
+
+Egypt, vi. 53, 54, 60; vii. 2, 4, 7, 8, 
+20, 25, 84, 63, 69, 89, 91, 97 
+
+Eion, vii. 25, 113 
+
+Elaeus, vi. 140; vii. 22, 33 
+
+Eleon, v. 43 
+
+Eleusis, v. 74, 75, 76 ; vi. 75 
+
+Elis, v. 44; vi. 70, 127 
+
+Elisyci, vii. 165 
+
+Enchelees, v. 61 
+
+Eneti, v. 9 
+
+Enienes, vii. 192, 185, 198 
+
+Enipeus, vii. 129 
+
+Ennea, Hodoi vii. 114 
+
+Kordi, vii. 185 
+
+Ephesus, v. 54, 100, 102; vi. 16, 84 
+
+Epialtes, vii. 213-218, 223, 225 
+
+Epicydes, vi. 86 
+
+Epidamnus, vi. 127 
+
+Epidaurus, v. 82-86; vii. 99 
+
+Epistrophus, vi. 127 
+
+Epizelus, vi. 117 
+
+Epizephyrii, vi. 23 
+Erasinus, vi. 76 
+
+Erechtheus, v. 82; vii. 189 
+
+Eretria, v. 57, 99, "102; vi. 43, 94, 99- 
+102, 106, 115, 119, 127 
+
+Erxandrus, v. 37 
+
+Erythrae, vi. 8 
+
+Eryx, v. 43, 45 
+
+Eteocles, v. 61 
+
+Ethiopia, vii. 18, 69, 70, 90 
+
+Evagoras, vi. 103 
+
+Evalcidas, v. 102 
+
+Euboea, v. 77; vi, 127; vii. 176, 182, 
+189, 192 
+
+— (Euboeans i in Sicily), vii. 156 
+
+Euclides, vii. 155 
+
+Evelthon, v. 104 
+
+Euphorion (1), vi. 114 
+
+— (2), vi. 127 
+
+Euphrates, v. 52 
+
+Euripus, v. 97; vii, 173, 182 
+
+Europe, v. 1, 12; vi. 33, 43 ; vii. 8, 9, 
+10, 20, 33, "64, 56, 73, 126, 172, 174, 
+184 
+
+
+Eurybates, vi. 92 
+Eurycrates, vii. 204 
+Eurycratides, vii. 204 
+Eurydame, vi. 71 
+
+
+Eurydemus, vii. 213 
+Euryleon, v. 46 
+Eurymachus (1), vii. 205 
+
+— (2), vii. 233 
+
+Eurysthenes, vi. 52; vii. 201 
+Eurytus, vii. 229 
+
+Euxine, vii. 36 
+
+
+Galepsus, vii. 122 
+
+Gallalce, vii. 108 
+
+Gandarii, vii. 66 
+
+Gela, vi. 93; vii. 153, 154, 156 
+Geleon, v. 66 
+
+Gelon, vii. 145, 153-166 
+Gephyrael, v. 55, 57, 58, 61 
+Gergis, vil. 81, 121 
+
+Gergithes, v. 123 
+
+
+== τ 9) vit. 
+
+Gonnus, ur 128, 173 
+Gorgo, v. 48, 51; vii. 239 
+Gorgus, v. 10 
+
+Gygaea, v. 21 
+
+Gyges, v. 121 
+
+Gyndes, v. 52 
+
+
+Halicarnassus, vii. 99 
+
+Halys, v. 52, 102; vii. 26 
+
+Harmamithres, vii. 88 
+
+Harmatides, vii. 227 
+
+Harmodius, v. 55; vi. 109, 123 
+
+Harpagus, vi. 28, 30 
+
+Hebrus, vii. 59 
+
+Hecataeus, v. 36, 125; vi. 137 
+
+Hegesandrus, v. 125; vi. 197 
+
+Hegesilaus, vii. 204 
+
+Hegesistratus, v. 94 
+
+Helen, v. 94: vl. 61 
+
+Hellas, Hellenes passim 
+
+Helle, vii. 58 
+
+Hellespont, v. 1,11, 13, 14, 23; vi. 43, 
+95 ; vii. 8, 10, 35, 36, 56, 58, 157, 163 
+
+Hephaestia, vi. 140 
+
+Heraclea, v. 43 
+
+Heracles, v. 43; vi. 53; vii. 176, 198, 
+204 
+
+Heracleum, v. 63 ; vi. 116 
+
+Heraclides, v. 37 
+
+Heraeum, v. 92; vi. 81, 82 
+
+
+Hermippus, vi. 4 
+563. 
+
+
+INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 
+
+
+Hermophantus, v. 99 i 
+
+Hieron, vii, 156 
+
+Himera, vi. 24; vii. 165 
+
+Hipparchus, v. 55, 56, 62; 
+vii. 6 
+
+Hippias, v. 55, 62, 91, 92, 93-96; vi. 
+107 
+
+
+vi. 123; 
+
+
+Ü 
+Hippoclides, vl. 127-129 
+Hippocoon, v. 60 
+Hippocrates (D, vi. 23 
+
+
+— (3), vi. 131 
+
+— (4), vii. 154, 155 
+
+Hipponicus, vil. 151 
+
+Histiaeus (1), v. 11, 23-25, 30, 35, 36, 
+106-108, 124; vi. 1-6, 26-30, 46; 
+vii. 10 
+
+— (2), v. 97; vii. 98 
+
+Homer, v. 67; vii. 161 
+
+Hoples, v. 66 
+
+Hyatae, v. 68 
+
+Hybla, vii. 155 
+
+Hn ness vi. 133; vii. 83, 135, 215, 
+
+21 
+
+
+Hylleis, v. 68 
+
+Hyllus, vi. 51; vii. 204 
+Hymeas, v. 116, 122 
+Hymassus, vi. 137 
+Hypachaei, vii. 91 
+Hyperanthes, vii. 224 
+Hyrcanians, vii. 62 
+Hyria, vii. 170 
+
+Hysiae, vi. 108 
+Hystanes, vii. 77 
+ρα v. 90, 73; vi. 98; vii. 10, 
+
+
+Iamidae, v. 44 
+Iapygians, vii. 170 
+Iason, vii. 193 
+Iatragoras, v. 37 
+Ibanollis, v. 37,121 
+
+
+Iiium, vii. 20, 42, 43, 161 
+Imbros, v. 26; vi. 41, 104 
+Indians, v. 3; vii. 9, 66, 187 
+Ino, vii. 197 
+
+Inycus, vi. 23, 24 
+
+Iolcus, v. 94 
+
+Ion, v. 66 
+
+
+564 
+
+
+Ionians, v. 28, 30, 33, 37, 49, 58, 69, 
+87, 97-124; vi. 1, 2 3, 7-18, 22--23, 
+48, 86, 95, 98; vii, 9, 10, 20, 51, 94, 
+97 
+
+
+Isagoras, v. 66, 70, 72, 74 
+Ischenous, vii. 181 
+
+Ister, v. 9, 10; vii. 10 
+
+Isthmus, vii. 139, 172, 174, 175, 207 
+Italia, v. 43; vi. 127 
+
+Ithamitres, vii. 67 
+
+
+Labda, v. 92 
+
+Labdacus, v. 59 
+
+Labranda, v. 119 
+
+Lacedaemon (& Sparta), passim; esp. 
+vi. 49-86, and vii. 202-239 
+
+Lade, vi. 7 
+
+Laius, v. 59, 60 
+
+Lampito, vi. 71 
+
+Lamponium, v. 26 
+
+Lampsacus, v. 117; vi. 37, 38 
+
+Laodamas, v. 61 
+
+Laphanes, vi. 127 
+
+Lapithes, v. 92 
+
+Lasus, vii. 6 
+
+Lemnos, v. 26; 
+vii. 6 
+
+Leobotes, vii. 204 
+
+Leon, vii. 204 (Lac.), 180 (Troezen) 
+
+Leonidas, v. 41; 204-208, 217, 
+219-225, 228, 229, 233, 238 
+
+Leontiades, vii. 233 l 
+
+Leontini, vii. 154 
+
+Leoprepes, vi. 85; vii. 228 
+
+Leotychides, ví. 65, Κη 69, 71, 72, 85, 
+86 
+
+
+Leros, v. 125 
+
+Lesbos, vi. 8, 26 
+
+Libya, v. 42; vii. 7, 70, 165, 184 
+
+Ligyes, vil. 72 
+
+— ώς vii, 165 
+
+Timer 
+
+Lipaxus, vii. 1798 
+
+Lipsydrium, v. 62 
+
+Lisae, vii, 123 
+
+Lissus, vii. 108, 109 
+
+Locrians (Sicily 7), vi. 23 
+
+— (Greece), vii. 182, 203, 207, 216 
+
+Lycaretus, v. 27 
+
+Lycia, vii. 77, 98 
+
+Lycurgus, vi. 127 
+
+Lydia, v. 49, 52, 102; vi. 125; vii. 30, 
+31, 74 
+
+Lydias, vii. 127 
+
+Lygdamis, vii, 99 
+
+
+vi. 136, 137-140; 
+
+
+INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 
+
+
+Lysagoras, vi. 133 
+
+
+Macae, v. 42 
+
+Macedonia, v. 17, 20, 94; vi. 44; vii. 
+9, 25, 73, 127, 128, 131, 173, 185 
+
+Macrones, vii. 98 
+
+Mactorium, vii. 153 
+
+Madytus, vii. 33 
+
+Maeander, v. 118, 119; vii, 26, 31 
+
+Maeandrius, v. 27 
+
+Magians, vii. 118, 191 
+
+MON vii. 132, 176, 183, 185, 188, 
+
+
+Malea, vii. 168 
+Malene, vi. 29 
+Males, vi. 127 
+Malis, vii. 132, 196, 201, 213, 215 
+
+
+Mantyes, v. v. 12 
+
+ν᾽ vi. 102, 103, 107, 111-117; 
+vii. 1 
+
+Mardonius, vi. 43-45, 94; vii. 5, 9, 
+10, 82, 108, 121 
+
+Mardontes, vii. 80 
+
+Mares, vii. 79 
+
+Mariandyni, vii. 92 
+
+Maronea, vii. 109 
+
+Marsyas, v. 118, 119 
+
+Mascames, vii. 105, 106 
+
+Masistes, vii. 82, 121 
+
+Masistius, vii. 79 
+
+Massages, vii. 71 
+
+Massagetae, vii. 18 
+
+Massalia, v. 9 
+
+Matieni, v. 49, 52; 
+
+Matten, vii. 98 
+
+Mausolus, v. 118 
+
+Mecisteus, v. 67 
+
+Mecyberna, vii. 122 
+
+Medes (for Persians) passim; 
+tinctively), vii. 62 
+
+Megabates, v. 32, 33, 35; vii. 97 
+
+Megabazus, v 1, 10, 12, 14, 16, 17, 
+23, 26; vi. 38: vii. 22, 97, 108 
+
+Megabyzus, vii. 82, 121 
+
+Megacles A), vi. 125, 127, 130 
+
+TR 2), 
+
+νο η vii. 120 
+
+Megadostes, vii. 105 
+
+Megapanus, vii. 62 
+
+Megara, v. 16 
+
+— (Sicily), vii. 156 
+
+Megasidrus, vii. 72 
+
+Megistias, vii, 219, το. 228 
+
+Melones, vii. 74, 7 
+
+
+vii. 72 
+
+
+(dis- 
+
+
+Melampus, vii. 221 
+Malanippus, v. 67 
+
+Melanthius, v. 97 
+
+Melanthus, v. 65 
+
+Melas (gulf), vi. 41 
+
+— (rivers), vii. 58, 198 
+Meliboea, vii. 188 
+
+Melissa, v. 92 
+
+Memnonian, v. 53, 54; vii. 191 
+Menares, vi. 65 
+
+Mende, vii. 123 
+
+Menelaus, v. 94; vii. 169, 171 
+Menius, vi. 71 
+
+Merbalus, vii. 98 
+
+Mesambria, vi. 33; vii. 108 
+Messapians, vii. 170 
+
+Messenia, v. 49; vi. 52 
+Metiochus, vi. 41 
+
+Micythus, vii. 170 
+
+Miletus, v. 11, 24, 28-37, 49, 92, 97, 
+
+
+99, 106, 124-136; vi. 5-10, 18-21, 
+5, 28, 86 ; vii. 10 
+Miltiades (1), vi . 35-37 
+— (2), vi. 34, $9 41. 105, 104, 109, 
+
+
+110, 132-137, 140 
+Milyae, vil. 7 7 
+Minoa, v. 46 
+Minos, vii. 169, 171 
+Molossians, vi. 127 
+
+
+Mycale, vi. 16; vii. 80 
+Mycene, vii, 202 
+
+Myci, vii. 68 
+
+Myconus, vi. 118 
+Mygdonia, vii. 123, 124, 127 
+Mylasa, v. 37, 121 
+
+Myndus, v. 33 
+
+Myrcinus, v. 11, 24, 124 
+Myrine, vi. 140 
+
+Myrmex, vii. 183 
+
+Myron, vi. 126 
+
+Myrsus, v. 121 
+
+Mysia, vi. 28; vii. 20, 42, 74, 75 
+Mytilene, v. 11, 37, 38, 94 
+Myus, v. 36; vi. 8 
+
+
+Nauplia, vi. 76 
+
+Naxos, v. 28, 30, 31, 33, 34, 36; vi. 96 
+--- (Sicily), vii. 154 
+
+Neapolis, vii. 123 
+
+Neleus, v. 65 
+
+Neocles, vii. 143 
+
+
+565 
+
+
+INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 
+
+
+Nereids, vii. 191 
+Nesaean, vii. 40 
+Nestor, v. 65 
+
+Nestus, vii. 126 
+Nicodromus, vi. 88, 89 
+Nicolas (1), vii. 134 
+— (2), vii. 137 
+
+Nisyra, vii. 99 
+Nonacris, vi. 74 
+Nothon, vi. 100 
+Nymphodorus, vii, 137 
+
+
+Oarizus, vii. 71 
+Odomanti, v. 16; vii, 112 
+Oea, v. 83 
+Oeasides, vi. 85 
+Oebares, vi. 33 
+Oedipus, v. 60 
+Oenoe, v. 74 
+Oeobazus, vii. 68 
+Oeta, vii. 176, 217 
+Oliatus, v. 37 
+Olophyxus, vii. 22 
+Olorus, vi. 39, 41 
+Olympia, v. 22; 
+170 
+
+
+Olympus (Asia), vii. 74 
+
+— (Europe), vii. 128, 129, 173 
+
+Olynthus, vii. 122 
+
+Oneatae, v. 68 
+
+Onetes, ut 214 
+
+Onesilus, v. 104, 108, 111-114 
+
+Onochonus, vii. 129, 176 
+
+Onomacritus, vii. 6 
+
+Onomastus, vi. 127 
+
+Ophryneum, vii. 43 
+
+Opuntians, vii. 203 
+
+Orbelus, v. 16 
+
+Orchomenus, vii. 202 
+
+Orgeus, vii. 118 
+
+Orithyia, vii. 189 
+
+Oromedon, vii. 98 
+
+Oropus, vi. 100 
+
+Ossa, vii. 128, 129, 173 
+
+ub d 25, 116, 123; vi. 43; vii. 
+, 
+
+Otaspes, vii. 63 
+
+Othrys, vii. 128 
+
+
+Pactolus, v. 101 
+
+Pactyes, vii, 67, 85 
+
+Paeonia, v. 1, 12-15, 23, 62, 98; vii. 
+113, 124, 185 
+
+Paeoplae, v. 15; vii. 113 
+
+Paesus, v. 117 
+
+
+566 
+
+
+vi. 121, 127; vii. 
+
+
+Paeti, vii. 110 
+
+Paeum, vi. 127 
+Pagasae, vii. 193 
+Palestine, v. 89 
+Pallas, vii. 141 
+Pallene, vii. 123 
+Pamisus, vii. 129 
+Pammon, vii, 183 
+Pamphylia, v. 68, 91 
+Pan, vi. 105 
+Panathenaea, v. 56 
+Pandion, vii. 92 
+Pangaeum, v. 16; vii. 112, 113, 115 
+Panionium, v. 
+
+Panites, vi. 52 
+Pantares, vii. 154 
+Paphlagonians, vii, 72 
+Paphos, vii. 195 
+Paraebates, v. 86 
+Paricanii, vii, 68, 96 
+Parium, v. 117 
+Parmys, vii. 78 
+Paros, v. 28, 29, 31, 62; vi. 133-135 
+Parthians, vii. 66 
+Pataicus, vii. 154 
+
+
+Pedasa, vi. 20 
+Pelasgian, v. 64; vi. 137-140; vii. 42. 
+94, 95 
+
+
+Peleus, vii. 191 
+
+Pelion, vii. 129, 188 
+
+Pella, vii. 123 
+
+Peloponnesians, v. 74, 76; vi. 79; 
+vii. 93, 94, 137, 139 
+
+Peneus, vii. 20, 128, 129, 130, 173, 182 
+
+Penthylus, vii. 195 
+
+Percalus, vi. 165 
+
+Percote, v. 117 
+
+Perdiccas, v. 22 
+
+Pergamum, vii. 43 
+
+Perialla, vi. 66 
+
+Periander, v. 92, 95 
+
+Pericles, vi. 131 
+
+Perrhaebi, vii. 128, 181, 185 
+
+Perses, vii. 150 
+
+Perseus, vi. 53, 54; vii. 61, 150 
+
+Persians, passim esp. vii. 61 
+
+Phaenippus, vi. 121 
+
+Phalerum, v. 85 
+
+Phanagoras, vii. 214 
+
+Pharandates, vii. 79 
+
+Pharnaces, vii. 66 
+
+Pharnazathres, vii. 65 
+
+Phasis, vi. 84 
+
+Pheneus, vi. 74 
+
+
+INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 
+
+
+Pherendates, vii. 67 
+Phidippides, vi. 105 
+Phidon, vi. 127 
+Phigalea, vi. 83 
+Philaeus, vi. 35 
+Philippus, v. 47 
+Philocyprus, v. 113 
+Phlegra, vii. 123 
+Phlius, vii, 202 
+Phocaea, vi. 8, 11, 17 
+
+
+Phocis, vi. 34; vii. 176, 203, 207, 215- 
+
+
+219 
+
+Phoebeum, vi. 51 
+
+Phoenice, vi. 17, 90 
+
+Phoenicians, v. 57, 58, 109; vi. 3, 25, 
+28, 33, 41, 47; vii. 23, 25, 89, 91, 
+165, 167 
+
+Phoenix, vii. 200 
+
+Phormus, vii. 182 
+
+Phrixus, vii. 197 
+
+Phrygia, v. 49, 52, 98; vii. 30, 73 
+
+Phrynichus, vi. 21 
+
+
+Pisistratidae, v. 52-65, 76, 91, 93; vi. 
+39, 94, 123; vii. 6 
+
+Pisistratus, v. 55, 65, 71, 94; vi. 103 
+
+Pithagoras, v 6 
+
+Pixodarus, v. 118 
+
+Plataea, vi. 108, 111, 113; vii. 281 
+
+Polichne, vi. 96; . 170 
+
+Polybus, v. 67 
+
+Polycritus, vi. 50, 73 
+
+Polydorus, i 59; vii. 204 
+
+Polynices, vi. 51 
+
+Pontus, vi. 5, 26; vii. 36, 147 
+
+Posideium, vii, 115 
+
+Posidon, vii. 129, 192 
+
+Potidaea, vii. 123 
+
+Praesii, vii. 170, 171 
+
+Prasiad aka y 15, 17 
+
+
+Priene, vi. '8 
+Prinetades, v. 41 
+
+
+Propontis, v. 122 
+Protesilaus, vii. 33 
+Psammitichus, vii, 7 
+
+
+Pylae, vii. 201 
+Pylaea, vii. 213 
+¥ylagori, vii. 213, 214 
+Pylus, vii. 168 
+Pythagoras, v. 126 
+Pythes, vii. 181 
+Pythia, see Delphi 
+Pythius, vii. 27, 28, 38 
+Pythogenes, vi. 23 
+
+
+Rhegium, vi. 23; vii. 170 
+Rhenaea, vi. 97 
+
+Rhodes, vii, 153 
+Rhoeteum, vii. 43 
+
+
+Sabyllus, vii. 154 
+
+Sacae, vi. 113; s 9, 64, 96, 184 
+
+Sagartii, vii. 8 
+
+Salamis (Greece), vil. 90, 141-143, 166, 
+168 
+
+
+Sale εὐ γ. 104, 108, 110, 113, 115 
+
+
+Sale, vii 
+Samos, v. 27, 112: vi. 8, 18, 14, 22-25, 
+
+
+Samothrace, vi. 47; xh 59, 108 
+Sandoces, vii. 194, 1 
+Sane, vii. 22, 123 
+ο Sapael, vii. 110 
+Sarangae, vii. 67 
+Sardis, v. 11, 18, 23, 24, 52, 54, 73, 95, 
+99-102, 105, 108, 116, 122, 123; 
+vi. 1, 4, 80, 42, 125; vii. 8, 26, 31, 
+37, 41, 57, 88, 145 
+Sardo, v. 106, 124; vi 1; vii. 165 
+Sarpedonia, vii. 58 
+Barte, vii. 122 
+Saspires, vii. 79 
+Satrae, vii. 100 
+Scamander, v. 65 
+Scapte Hyle, vi. 46 
+
+
+Scythes, vl. 23; vii. 1 
+Seythig, v. 24, 21; i d: 41, 84; vii. 
+
+
+βε|ἀοίκικς vii. 98 
+
+Selinus, v. 46 
+
+Selymbria, vi, 33 
+
+Sepea, vi. 77 
+
+Sepias, vii. 183, 186, 190, 191, 195 
+
+
+567 
+
+
+INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 
+
+
+Sermyle, vii. 122 
+
+Serreum, vii. 59 
+
+Sestus, vii. 33, 78 
+
+Sicania, vii. 170 
+
+Sicas, vii. 98 
+
+Sicily, v. 43, 46; vi. 17, 22-24; vii. 
+145, 153-156, 163-167, "205 
+
+Sicyon, v. 67, 68, 69; vi. 92, 126, 131 
+
+Sidon, vii. 98, 99, 100 
+
+Sigeum, v. 65, 91, 94, 95 
+
+Sigynnae, v. 9 
+
+Silenus, vii. 26 - 
+
+Simonides, v. 102; vii. 228 
+
+
+Siromitres, vii. 68, 79 
+Siropaeones, v. 15 
+Sisamnes, v. 25; vii. 66 
+Sisimaces, v. 121 
+Sitalces, vii. 137 
+Sithonia, vii. 122 
+Smerdis, vii. 78 
+Smerdomenes, vii. 82, 121 
+Smila, vii. 123 
+
+Sogdi, vii. 66 
+
+Soli, v. 110, 113, 115 
+Solon, v. 113 
+
+Sophanes, vi. 92 
+
+
+Sosicles, v. 92, 93 9 
+
+
+Sparta, v. Lacedaemon 
+
+Spercheius, vii. 228 
+
+Sperthias, vii. 134, 137 
+
+Stagirus, vii. 115 
+
+Stentorid lake, vii. b 
+
+diro dea (1), vi. 34, 538, 39, 103 
+
+— (2), vi. 103 
+
+Stesenor, v. 113 
+
+Stesilaus, vi. 114 
+
+Stryme, vii. 108, 109 
+
+Strymon, v. 1, 13, 23, 98; 
+113, 114 
+
+Strymonii, vii. 75 
+
+Stymphalian lake, vi. 76 
+
+Styra, vi. 107 
+
+Sunium, vi. 87, 90, 115 
+
+Susa, v. 25, 30, 32, 35, 49, 52; vi. 20, 
+30, 119; vii. 3, 6, 20, 151, 239 
+
+Syagrus, vii. 153, 159 
+
+Sybaris, v. 44, 45; vi. 21, 127 
+
+Syennesis, v. 118; vii. 98 
+
+Sylean plain, vii. 115 
+
+Syloson, vi. 13 
+
+ον vii. 154-157, 161, 167 
+
+Syri, v. 49; vii. 72 
+
+Syria, "vil. 63, 89 
+
+
+568 
+
+
+vii. 107, 
+
+
+Talaus, v. 67 
+
+Talthybius, vii. 134, 137 
+
+Tamynae, vi. 101 
+
+Tanagra, v. 79 
+
+Taras, vii. 170 
+
+Teaspis, vii. 79 
+
+Tegea, vi. 72, 105; vii. 170, 202 
+
+Teispes, vii. 11 
+
+Teleboae, v. 59 
+
+Telines, vii. 153, 154 
+
+Telos, vii. 153 
+
+Telys, v. 44, 47 
+
+Tenedos, vi. 31, 41 
+
+Teos, vi. 8 
+
+Tereus, vii. 137 
+
+Terillus, vii. 165 
+
+Termerus, v. 37 
+
+Termilae, vii. 92 
+
+Tetramnestus, vii. 98 
+
+Teucri, v. 13, 122; vii. 20, 43, 75 
+
+Thamasius, vii. 194 
+
+Thasos, vi. 46, 47; vii. 108 
+
+Thebe (daughter of Asopus), v. 80 
+
+— (in Asia), vii. 42 
+
+Thebes, v. 59, 67, 79, 81, 89; vi. 108, 
+118: vii. 132, 222, 933 
+
+Themistocles, vii. 148, 144, 173 
+
+Therambus, vii. 123 
+
+Therma, vii. 121, 123, 127 
+
+Thermopylae, vii. 175, 177, 201, 206- 
+234 passim 
+
+Thersandrus, vi. 51 
+
+Thespiae, vii. 132, 222 
+
+Thesprotia, v. 92; vii. 176 
+
+Thessalus, v. 46 
+
+Thessaly, v. 68, 64; vii. 108, 128-130, 
+173, 174, 176, 196, 215 
+
+Thoas, vi. 188 
+
+Thrace, v. 3, 6, 10, 14, 23, 24, 126; 
+vi. 45; vil. 10, 20, 76, 105, 185 
+
+Thrasybulus, v. 92 
+
+Thyia, vii. 178 
+
+Thyssus, vii. 22 
+
+Tibareni, vii. 78 
+
+Tigris, v. 52 
+
+Timagoras, vii. 98 
+
+Timesitheus, v. 72 
+
+Timo, vi. 134, 135 
+
+Timon, vii. 141 
+
+Timonax, vii. 98 
+
+Tiryns, vi. 76, 83; vii. 137 
+
+Tisandrus, v. 66; vi. 127 
+
+Tisias, vi. 133 
+
+Titormus, vi. 127 
+
+Tmolus, v. 100, 101 
+
+
+INDEX OF PROPER NAMES 
+
+
+Torone, vii. 22, 129 
+
+Trachis, vii. 175, 176, 198, 199, 201, 
+213, 217 
+
+Trapezus, vi. 127 
+
+Trausi, v. 3, 4 
+
+Triopium, vii, 153 
+
+Tritantaechmes, vii. 82, 121 
+
+Tritogenes (Athene), vii. 141 
+Troad, v. 26, 122 
+
+Troezen, vii. 179 
+
+Troy, v. 13; vii. 20, 91, 171 
+
+Ty eus, v.67 - 
+
+Tymnes, vii. 98 
+
+Tyndaridae, v. 75 
+
+Tyre, vii. 98 
+
+Tyrodiza, vii. 25 
+
+Tyrrhenia, vi. 17, 22 
+
+
+Utii, vii. 68 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+Xanthippus, vi, 131 
+Xanthus, vi. 131, 136; vii. 33 
+Xerxes, vi. i passim ap. vii. 
+Xuthus, vii. 9 
+
+
+Zacynthus, vi. 70 
+Zancle, vi. 22, 23, 24; vii. 154, 
+164 
+
+
+Zeus, vi. 67; vii. 56, 61, 141, 22] 
+— ἀγοραῖος; v. 46 
+
+— ἔρκειος, vi. 68 
+
+-- Κάριος, Υ. 06 
+
+— Λακεδαίμων, vi. 56 
+
+— Λαφύστιος, vii. 197 
+
+— στράτιος, v. 119 
+
+Zeuxidemus, vi. 171 
+
+Zone, vii. 59 
+
+
+Zopyrus, vii. 82 
+
+
+. in c cC" c c JC NR 
+PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED, 
+
+
+BUNGAY, SUFFOLK, κ 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+BOOKS VIII-IX 
+
+
+£ "Aa «- edi ν΄ E 
+
+
+v 
+
+
+n GODLEY 
+
+
+Translated by 
+
+
+Digitized by the Internet Archive 
+in 2007 with funding from 
+Microsoft Corporation 
+
+
+http://www.archive.org/details/herodotusO4hero 
+
+
+ΤΗΕ LOEB CLASSICAL LIBRARY 
+
+
+FOUNDED BY JAMES LOEB, LL.D. 
+
+
+EDITED BY 
+E. H. WARMINGTON, M.A., F.R.HIST.SOC. 
+
+
+FORMER EDITORS 
+
+
+TL. E. PAGE, C.H., LITT.D. +E. CAPPS, PH.D., LL.D. 
+TW. H. D. ROUSE, LITT.D. L. A. POST, L.E.D. 
+HERODOTUS 
+IV 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+WITH AN ENGLISH TRANSLATION BY 
+A. D. GODLEY 
+
+
+HON. FELLOW OF MAGDALEN COLLEGE, OXFOKD 
+
+
+IN FOUR VOLUMES 
+IV 
+
+
+BOOKS VIII-IX 
+
+
+CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS 
+HARVARD UNIVERSHY -PRESS 
+LONDON 
+
+
+WILLIAM HEINEMANN LTD 
+MOMLXIX 
+
+
+First printed 1925 
+Reprinted 1930, 1946, 1961, 1969 
+
+
+Printed in Great Britain 
+
+
+CONTENTS 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION z ees ο Ὁ. ᾱ 
+BOOK VIII . . . D- d^ ον. ο. «ο Lis 
+BOOK IX . . . «ο te^ yel. e Cus s. τῷ 
+INDEX. . , . Vo 0e ο eo ms ds 
+MAPS— SALAMIS . . . . «ὦ: . 
+
+
+BATTLEFIELD OF PLATAEA 
+
+
+PAGE 
+. νι 
+" l 
+. 157 
+. 303 
+At end 
+
+
+5»; 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+Tue following is a brief analysis of the contents 
+of Books VIII and IX, based on the summary in 
+Stein's edition :— 
+
+
+BOOK VIII 
+
+
+Ch. 1-5. The Greek fleet at Artemisium ; question 
+of supreme command; bribery of Themistocles by 
+the Euboeans. 
+
+Ch. 6-14. Despatch of a Persian squadron to 
+sail round Euboea, and its destruction by a storm. 
+Effect of the storm on the rest of the Persian fleet ; 
+first encounter between the two fleets. 
+
+Ch. 15-17. Second battle off Artemisium. 
+
+Ch. 18-23. Retreat of the Greeks; Themistocles' 
+attempt to tamper with the lIonians; Persian 
+occupation of Euboea. 
+
+Ch. 24-33. Visit of Persian sailors to the field of 
+Thermopylae. Olympic festival (26) ^ Feuds of 
+Thessalians and Phocians; Persian advance through 
+Phocis (27-33). 
+
+Ch. 34-39. Persian march through Boeotia, and 
+unsuccessful attempt upon Delphi. 
+
+Ch. 40-48. Abandonment of Attica by the 
+Athenians; the Greek fleet at Salamis. 
+
+Ch. 49-55. Greek council of war; Persian invasion 
+of Attica and occupation of Athens. 
+
+
+vii 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+Ch. 56-64. Greek design to withdraw the fleet to 
+the Isthmus of Corinth. Decision to remain at 
+Salamis, by Themistocles advice. 
+
+Ch. 65. Dicaeus' vision near Eleusis. 
+
+Ch. 66—69. Persian fleet at Phalerum; advice 
+given by Artemisia in a council of war. 
+
+Ch. 70-73. Greek fortification of the Isthmus. 
+Digression on the various Peloponnesian nationalities. 
+
+Ch. 74-82. Unwillingness of the Peloponnesians 
+to remain at Salamis. Themistocles design to com- 
+pel them; his message to Xerxes, and Persian 
+movement to encircle the Greeks. Announcement 
+of this by Aristides. 
+
+Ch. 83-96. Battle of Salamis. 
+
+Ch. 97-99. Xerxes’ intention to retreat; news at 
+Susa of the capture of Athens and the battle of 
+Salamis. 
+
+Ch. 100-102. Advice given to Xerxes by Mardonius 
+and Artemisia. 
+
+Ch. 103-106. Story of the revenge of Hermotimus. 
+
+Ch. 107-110. Flight of Persian fleet, and Greek 
+pursuit as far as Andros; Themistocles message 
+to Xerxes. 
+
+Ch. 111, 112. Siege of Andros, and demands made 
+by Themistocles on various islands. 
+
+Ch. 113. Mardonius' selection of his army. 
+
+Ch. 114-120. Incidents in Xerxes' retreat. 
+
+Ch. 121-125. Greek division of spoil and assign- 
+ment of honours; Themistocles' reception at Sparta. 
+
+Ch. 126-129. Artabazus' capture of Olynthus and 
+siege of Potidaea, during the winter. 
+
+Ch. 130-132. Greek and Persian fleets at Aegina 
+and Samos respectively (spring of 479). Leutychides' 
+command. Message to the Greeks from the lIonians. 
+
+
+viii 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION 
+Ch. 133-135. Mardonius' consultation of Greek 
+
+
+oracles. 
+
+Ch. 136-139. Mission to Athens of Alexander of 
+Macedonia; origin of his dynasty. 
+
+Ch. 140-144. Speeches at Athens of Alexander 
+and the Spartan envoys; Athenian answer to both. 
+
+
+DOOK IX 
+
+
+Ch. 1-5. Mardonius in Attica; his fresh proposals 
+to the Athenians. 
+
+Ch. 6-11. Hesitation of the Spartans to send 
+troops; appeals made by the Athenians; eventual 
+despatch of a force. 
+
+Ch. 12-15. Argive warning to Mardonius; his 
+march to Megara and withdrawal thence to Boeotia. 
+
+Ch. 16-18. Story of a banquet at Thebes, and 
+Mardonius' test of a Phocian contingent. 
+
+Ch. 19-25. The Greeks at Erythrae; repulse of 
+Persian cavalry attack, and death of its leader; 
+Greek change of position. 
+
+Ch. 26-27. Rival claim of Tegeans and Athenians 
+for the post of honour. 
+
+Ch. 28-32. Battle array of Greek and Persian 
+armies. 
+
+Ch. 33-37. Stories of the diviners in the two 
+armies. 
+
+Ch. 38-43. Persian attack on a Greek convoy; 
+Mardonius’ council of war and determination to 
+fight. 
+
+Ch. 44—51. Alexander's warning to the Athenians ; 
+attempted change of Greek and Persian formation ; 
+Mardonius’ challenge to the Spartans, and retreat 
+of Greeks to a new position. 
+
+
+ix 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION 
+Ch. 52-57. Flight of the Greek centre; Amom- 
+
+
+pharetus' refusal to change his ground. 
+
+Ch. 58-65. Battle of Plataea; initial success of 
+Spartans and Tegeans. 
+
+Ch. 66-69. Flight of Artabazus; Athenian success 
+against the Boeotians; disaster to part of the Greek 
+army. 
+
+Ch. 70-75. Assault and capture of the Persian 
+fortified camp. Distinctions of various Greek 
+fighters. 
+
+Ch. 76-79. Pausanias’ reception of the Coan 
+female suppliant; the Mantineans and Eleans after 
+the battle; Lampon's proposal to Pausanias and 
+his reply. 
+
+Ch. 80-85. Greek division of the spoil and burial 
+of the dead. 
+
+Ch. 86-89. Siege of Thebes and punishment of 
+Theban leaders; retreat of Artabazus. 
+
+Ch. 90-95. Envoys from Samos with the Greek 
+fleet. Story of the diviner Euenius. 
+
+Ch. 96-105. Movements preliminary to the battle 
+of Mycale, and Greek victory there. 
+
+Ch. 106, 107. Greek deliberation at Samos; 
+quarrel between Persian leaders. 
+
+Ch. 108-113. Story of Xerxes' adultery and cruelty, 
+and the fate of his brother Masistes. 
+
+Ch. 114-121. Capture of Sestus by the Greeks; 
+sacrilege of Artayctes, and his execution. 
+
+Ch. 122. Cyrus' advice to the Persians to prefer 
+hardship to comfort. 
+
+
+In the eighth and ninth books the central subjects 
+are the battles of Salamis and Plataea respectively. 
+Herodotus describes the preliminaries of Salamis, 
+
+
+X 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+and both the operations prior to Plataea and the 
+actual battle, with much detail; and his narrative 
+has given rise to a good deal of controversy. Some- 
+times it is difficult to reconcile his story with the 
+facts of geography. Sometimes, it is alleged, he is 
+contradicted by the only other real authority for the 
+sea fight at Salamis, Aeschylus. More often, he is 
+said to sin against the laws of probability. He 
+makes generals and armies do things which are 
+surprising; and this is alleged to detract from his 
+eredit; for a historian, who allows generals and 
+armies to disregard known rules of war, is plainly 
+suspect, and at best the dupe of camp gossip, if not 
+animated by partiality or even malice. 
+
+As to the battle of Salamis, a mere translator has 
+no desire to add greatly to the literature of contro- 
+versy. But it is worth while to review Herodotus’ 
+account. On the day before the battle, the Persian 
+fleet, apparently, lay along the coast of Attica, its 
+eastern wing being near Munychia; the Greeks 
+being at Salamis, opposite to and rather less than 
+a mile distant from Xerxes’ ships. During the 
+night, Persian ships were detached to close the two 
+entrances of the straits between the mainland and 
+Salamis. At dawn of the following day, the Greeks 
+rowed out and made a frontal attack on the Persians 
+facing them. 
+
+This account is questioned by the learned, mainly 
+on two grounds; firstly, because (it is alleged) the 
+Persians, if they originally lay along the Attic coast, 
+could not have closed the two entrances of the 
+straits without the knowledge of the Greeks; 
+secondly, because Herodotus’ narrative differs from 
+that given by Aeschylus, in the Persae, a play 
+
+
+ΧΙ 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+produced only eight years after the battle. As 
+to the first objection, the Persian manoeuvre was 
+executed in darkness, and by small vessels, not 
+modern battleships: it is surely not incredible that 
+the Greeks should have been unaware of its full 
+execution. As to the second ground of eriticism,— 
+that Herodotus and Aeschylus do not agree, and 
+that Aeschylus must be held the better authority,— 
+
+it still remains to be shown in what the alleged 
+discrepancy consists. It is a fact which appears to 
+escape the observation of the learned that Aeschylus 
+is writing a poetie drama, and not a despatch. His 
+manner of telling the story certainly differs from 
+that of Herodotus ; but the facts which he relates 
+appear to be the same: and in all humility I cannot 
+but suggest that if commentators would re-read their 
+Herodotus and their Aeschylus in parallel columns, 
+without (if this be not too much to ask) an a priori 
+desire to catch Herodotus tripping, some of them, 
+at least, would eventually be able to reconcile the 
+Niemen DO Sn tragedian. For Aeschylus no- 
+where contradicts what is apparently the view of 
+Herodotus,—that the Persians, or their main body, 
+lay along the Attic eoast opposite Salamis when the 
+Greeks sailed out to attack them. Messrs. How 
+and Wells (quos honoris causa nomino) say that this 
+was probably not so, because, aecording to Aeschylus, 
+“some time” elapsed before the Persians could see 
+the Greek advance, and the strait is only one 
+thousand five hundred yards wide. But as a matter 
+of fact, Aeschylus does not say that some time 
+elapsed. His expression is θοῶς δὲ πάντες ἦσαν 
+ἐκφανεῖς idctv—- quickly they were all plain to 
+view. 
+
+
+xli 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+Herodotus’ narrative of the manceuvres of Mar- 
+donius' and Pausanias' armies near Plataea is, like 
+most descriptions of battles, not always very clear. 
+It is full of detail; but as some of the localities 
+mentioned cannot be quite certainly identified, the 
+details are not always easy to understand; and it 
+must be confessed that there are gaps in the story. 
+For instance, we must presume (though meritorious 
+efforts are made to explain the statement away) 
+that Herodotus means what he says when he asserts 
+in Ch. 15 that Mardonius’ army occupied the 
+ground * from Erythrae past Hysiae " ; the Persians, 
+therefore, were then on the right bank of the 
+Asopus; yet soon afterwards they are, according 
+to the historian's equally plain statement, on the 
+left bank. Hence there are real obscurities; and 
+the narrative is not without picturesque and per- 
+haps rather surprising incidents; which some 
+commentators (being rather like M.  About's 
+gendarme, persons whose business it is to see that 
+nothing unusual happens in the locality) promptly 
+dismiss as *camp gossip."  Altogether, what with 
+obscurity and camp gossip, scholars have given 
+themselves a fairly free hand to reconstruct the 
+operations before Plataea as they must have hap- 
+pened—unless indeed “someone had blundered," 
+an hypothesis which, apparently, ought only to be 
+accepted in the very last resort, and hardly then 
+if its acceptance implies Herodotus’ veracity. Re- 
+construction of history is an amusing game, and has 
+its uses, especially in places of education, where it 
+is played with distinguished success; yet one may 
+still doubt whether rejection of what after all is our 
+only real authority brings the public any nearer to 
+
+
+xili 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+knowing what did actually happen. Strategists and 
+tacticians do make mistakes; thus, generally, are 
+battles lost and won; and unreasonable incidents 
+do occur. However, it is fair to say that most of 
+the reconstruction of Salamis and Plataea was done 
+before August, 1914. 
+
+But here, as elsewhere in his history, Herodotus' 
+authority is much impaired by the presumption, 
+popular since Plutarch, of a pro-Athenian bias which 
+leads him to falsify history by exaggerating the merit 
+of Athens at the expense of other states, especially 
+Sparta. Now we may readily believe that if 
+Herodotus lived for some time at Athens, he was 
+wiling enough to do ample justice to her achieve- 
+ments; but if he is to be charged with undue and 
+unjust partiality, and consequent falsification, then 
+it must be shown that the conduct which he 
+attributes to Athens and to Sparta is somehow not 
+consistent with what one would naturally expect, 
+from the circumstances of the case, and from what 
+we know, aliunde, about those two states. Scholars 
+who criticise Herodotus on grounds of probability 
+ought to be guided by their own canon. If a 
+historian is to be discredited where his narrative 
+does not accord with what is antecedently probable, 
+then he must be allowed to gain credit where ante- 
+cedent probability is on his side; and there is no- 
+thing in Herodotus' account of Athenian and Spartan 
+actions during the campaigns of 480 and 479 which 
+disagrees with the known character of either people. 
+Pace the socialistic conception of an unrelieved 
+similarity among all states and individuals, the 
+Athenians of the fifth century, B.c., were an excep- 
+tional people; their record is not precisely the 
+
+
+xiv 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+record of Boeotia or Arcadia; it seems fair to say, 
+without appealing to Herodotus’ testimony, that 
+they were more gifted, and more enterprising, than 
+most. The spirit of the Hellenic world is general, —— 
+intense local patriotism, intense fear and hatred of 
+Oriental absolutism and strange worships,—was more 
+alive among the Athenians, probably, than in any 
+other Greek state. Sparta also had her share of 
+these qualities; she too would make no terms with 
+the Persian; only her methods of resistance were 
+different. Primarily, each state was interested in 
+its ownsafety. To Spartans-—disinclined to methods 
+other than traditional, and as yet unaccustomed to 
+naval warfare—it seemed that Sparta could be 
+best defended by blocking the land access to the 
+Peloponnese; they would defend the Isthmus suc- 
+cessfully, as they had tried and failed to defend 
+Thermopylae. This meant, of course, the sacrifice 
+of Attica; and naturally that was a sacrifice not 
+to be made willingly by Athenians. Their only 
+chance of saving or recovering Attica lay in fighting 
+a naval action close to its coasts; nay, the abandon- 
+ment of Salamis meant the exposure of their de- 
+pendents to fresh dangers; therefore, they pressed 
+for the policy of meeting and defeating the Persian 
+where he lay by the Attic coast. This policy was 
+to prove successful; and thereby, the Athenians 
+incidentally accomplished what was undoubtedly 
+also their object, the salvation of Hellas; but the 
+primary purpose of both Sparta and Athens, both 
+before Salamis and before Plataea (when the 
+Athenians were naturally displeased by a plan 
+which left Attica a prey to the enemy) was un- 
+doubtedly to do the best they could for themselves. 
+
+
+XV 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+This, in fact, was always the desire of all Greek 
+states, as of most others in the history of the 
+world; and as the actions of both Athens and 
+Sparta were the natural outcome of that desire, 
+there is no need to suspect Herodotus of unduly 
+favouring the Athenians when he credits them with 
+the plans which led to victory, or of unduly dis- 
+paraging the Spartans when he describes their 
+delays and hesitations before their march to Boeotia. 
+
+If the charge of an excessively pro-Athenian bias 
+is to be sustained, it must be shown that Herodotus 
+is prone to deny credit to the great rival of Athens. 
+But there is no evidence of that. Sparta receives 
+fuli measure from Herodotus. No Spartan could 
+conceivably have been dissatisfied with the chapters 
+on Thermopylae. Plataea is represented as a Spartan 
+victory; it was the Spartans and Tegeans who in 
+Herodotus' story were the real heroes of the day; 
+the glory of winning *the greatest victory ever 
+won ” is definitely given to the Spartan commander- 
+in-chief. On the other hand Themistocles, the 
+typical Athenian, is treated with a severity which 
+even appears to be rather gratuitous. It is true 
+that Herodotus does not take pains to praise two 
+other Greek states which at various times were at 
+feud with Athens. He tells us that the Thebans 
+* medized," a fact which has not, I believe, been 
+denied, even by Plutarch; it is difficult to see 
+what else he could have said. True, he reports a 
+damaging story about the Corinthians and their 
+failure to take part in the action of Salamis; but 
+he adds, in his candid way, that nobody believes 
+the story outside Attica. 
+
+The hypothesis of Herodotus’ “obvious pro- 
+
+
+XVI 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+Athenian bias” is one which is bound to appeal to 
+readers who are laudably afraid of being led away 
+by hero-worship; but it has one fault—it lacks 
+evidence. 
+
+With the crowning victory of Mycale, where for 
+the first time a Persian army was defeated by a 
+Greek within the boundaries of the Persian empire, 
+the history of the war comes to an end. But the 
+chapters which conclude Book 1X are no anti- 
+climax; they are congruous with the whole, part 
+and parcel of the narrative, and as striking an 
+example of Herodotus' supreme art as any passage 
+in his history. What was it after all (a reader might 
+be supposed to ask) that nerved most of the Greeks 
+to resist Darius’ and Xerxes’ powerful armaments? 
+The answer is plain; it was fear of the caprice and 
+cruelty of Oriental despots, and desire to protect 
+Greek temples from sacrilege. These concluding 
+chapters illustrate and justify the Greek temper. 
+The methods of Persian absolutism are vividly por- 
+trayed in the gruesome story of Xerxes’ love and 
+Masistes' death ; and the crucified body of Artafctes, 
+the defiler of temples, hangs by the Hellespontian 
+shore, overlooking the scene of Xerxes’ proudest 
+achievement and display, as a warning to all sacri- 
+legious invaders ; so perish all who lay impious hands 
+on the religion of Hellas! . . . The story is now 
+complete. The play is played; and in the last 
+chapter of the book, Cyrus the great protagonist 
+of the drama is called before the curtain to speak 
+its epilogue. 
+
+
+[Besides the authorities enumerated at the begin- 
+ning of Vol. I of this translation, the following 
+
+
+xvii 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+sources are recommended to the students of the 
+campaigns of Salamis and Plataea:— 
+
+
+G. B. Grundy, The Great Persian War. 
+
+J. A. R. Munro, Journal of Hellenic Studies, xxii. 
+323—32 and xxiv. 144—605. 
+
+Prof. Goodwin, Harvard Studies of Classical 
+Philology, 1906, pp. 75 ff] 
+
+
+xviii 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+BOOK VIII 
+
+
+VOL. IV. 
+
+
+HPOAOTOY ΤΣΤΟΡΙΑΙ 
+
+
+Θ 
+
+
+1. Οἱ δὲ Ἑλλήνων ἐς τὸν ναυτικὸν στρατὸν 
+ταχθέντες ἡ ἦσαν. οἶδε, ᾿Αθηναῖοι μὲν. νέας παρεχό- 
+μενοι. ἑκατὸν καὶ εἴκοσι καὶ ἑπτώ: ὑπὸ δὲ ἀρετῆς 
+τε καὶ προθυμίης Πλαταιέες ἄπειροι τῆς ναυτικῆς 
+ἐόντες συνεπλήρουν τοῖσι ᾿Αθηναίοισι τὰς νέας. 
+Κορίνθιοι δὲ τεσσεράκοντα νέας παρείχοντο, 
+Μεγαρέες δὲ εἴκοσι. καὶ Χαλκιδέες ἐπλήρουν 
+εἴκοσι, ᾿Αθηναίων σφι παρεγόντων τὰς νέας, 
+Αἰγινῆται δὲ ὀκτωκαίδεκα, Σικυώνιοι δὲ δυοκαί- 
+δεκα, Λακεδαιμόνιοι δὲ δέκα, άπιδαύριοι δὲ ὀκτώ, 
+ρετριέες. δὲ ἑπτά, Τροιξήνιοι δὲ πέντε, Xrupées 
+δὲ δύο, καὶ Kyot δύο τε νέας καὶ πεντηκοντέρους 
+δύο' Λοκροὶ δέ σφι οἱ Ὀπούντιοι ἐπεβοήθεον 
+
+πεντηκοντέρους ἔχοντες ἑπτά. 
+
+2. "Hoar μὲν οὗτοι οἱ στρατευόμενοι ἐπ᾽ ᾿Άρτε- 
+µίσιον, εἴρηται δέ µοι καὶ ὡς τὸ πλῆθος ἕκαστοι 
+τῶν νεῶν παρείχοντο. ἀριθμὸς δὲ τῶν συλλεχθει- 
+σέων νεῶν ἐπ᾿ ᾿Αρτεμίσιον ἦν, πάρεξ τῶν πεντη- 
+κοντέρων, διηκόσιαι καὶ ἑβδομήκοντα καὶ μία. 
+τὸν δὲ στρατηγὸν τὸν τὸ μέγιστον κράτος ἔχοντα 
+παρείχοντο Σπαρτιῆται Εὐρυβιάδην ΓΠὐρυκλείδεω: 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+BOOK VIII 
+
+
+1. Tue Greeks appointed to serve in the flect 
+were these: the Athenians furnished a hundred 
+and twenty-seven ships; the Plataeans manned 
+these ships with the Athenians, not that they had 
+any knowledge of seamanship, but of mere valour 
+and zeal. The Corinthians furnished forty ships, 
+and the Megarians twenty; and the Chalcidians 
+manned twenty, the Athenians furnishing the ships; 
+the Aeginetans eighteen, the Sicyonians twelve, the 
+Lacedaemonians ten, the Epidaurians eight, the 
+Eretrians seven, the Troezenians five, the Styrians 
+two, and the Ceans two, and two fifty-oared barks; 
+and the Opuntian Locrians brought seven fifty-oared 
+barks to their aid. 
+
+2. These were they who came to Artemisium for 
+battle; and I have now shown how they severally 
+furnished the whole sum. The number of ships 
+that mustered at Artemisium was two hundred and 
+seventy one, besides the fifty-oared barks. But the 
+admiral who had the chief command was of the 
+Spartans’ providing, Eurybiades, son of Euryclides ; 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οὗ yap σύμμαχοι οὐκ ἔφασαν, ἣν μὴ ὁ Λάκων 
+ἡγεμονεύῃ, ᾿Αθηναίοισι ἕψεσθαι ἡ ἡγεομένοισι, ἀλλὰ 
+λύσειν τὸ μέλλον ἔσεσθαι στράτευμα. 
+
+35 "Eyevero yap KAT ἀρχὰς λόγος, πρὶν ἢ καὶ 
+ἐς Σικελίην πέμπειν. ἐπὶ συμμαχίην, ὡς τὸ ναυτι- 
+κὸν ᾿Αθηναίοισι χρεὸν età) ἐπιτράπειν. ἀντιβάντων 
+δὲ τῶν συμμάχων εἶκον οἱ ᾿Λθηναῖοι μέγα πεποιη- 
+μένοι περιεῖναι τὴν Ἑλλάδα καὶ γνόντες, εἰ στα- 
+σιάσουσι περὶ τῆς ἡγεμονίης, ὡς ἀπολέεται ) 
+Ἑλλάς, ὀρθὰ νοεῦντες" στάσις γὰρ ἔμφυλος 
+πολέμου ὁμοφρονέοντος τοσούτῳ κάκιον ἐστὶ ὅσῳ 
+πόλεμος εἰρήνης. ἐπιστάμενοι ὧν αὐτὸ τοῦτο 
+οὐκ ἀντέτεινον ἀλλ, εἶκον, μέχρι ὅσου κάρτα ἐδέ- 
+οντο αὐτῶν, ὡς διέδεξαν: ὡς γὰρ δὴ ὠσάμενοι τὸν 
+Πέρσην περὶ τῆς ἐκείνου ἤδη τὸν ἀγῶνα ἐποιεῦντο, 
+πρόφασιν τὴν Παυσανίεω ὕβριν προϊσχόμενοι 
+ἀπείλοντο τὴν ἡγεμονίην τοὺς Λακεδαιμονίους. 
+ἀλλὰ ταῦτα μὲν ὕστερον ἐγένετο. 
+
+4. Τότε δὲ οὗτοι οἱ καὶ ἐπ᾽ ᾿Αρτεμίσιον 'EX- 
+λήνων ἀπικόμενοι ὡς εἶδον νέας τε πολλὰς κατα- 
+χθείσας ἐς τὰς ᾽Αϕέτας καὶ στρατιῆς ἅπαντα 
+πλέα, ἐπεὶ αὐτοῖσι παρὰ δόξαν τὰ πρήγματα τῶν 
+βαρβάρων ἀπέβαινε ἢ ὡς αὐτοὶ κατεδόκεον, κα- 
+ταρρωδήσαντες δρησμὸν ἐβουλεύοντο ἀπὸ τοῦ 
+᾿Αρτεμισίου ἔσω ἐς τὴν Ἑλλάδα. γνόντες δὲ 
+σφέας οἱ Εὐβοέες ταῦτα βουλευομένους ἐδέοντο 
+Εὐρυβιάδεω προσεῖναι χρόνον ὀλίγον, ἔστ᾽ ἂν 
+αὐτοὶ τέκνα τε καὶ τοὺς οἰκέτας ὑπεκθέωνται. ὡς 
+δ᾽ οὐκ ἔπειθον, μεταβάντες τὸν ᾿Αθηναίων στρατη- 
+γὸν πείθουσι Θεμιστοκλέα ἐπὶ μισθῷ τριήκοντα 
+
+
+1 After the capture of Byzantium in 476 B.C. 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 2-4 
+
+
+for the allies said, that if the Laconian were not 
+their leader they would rather make an end of the 
+fleet that was preparing than be led by the 
+Athenians. 
+
+3. For in the first days, before the sending to 
+Sicily for alliance there, there had been talk of 
+entrusting the command at sea to the Athenians. 
+But when the allies withstood this, the Athenians 
+waived their claim, deeming the safety of Hellas 
+of prime moment, and seeing that if they quarrelled 
+over the leadership Hellas must perish; wherein 
+they judged rightly; for civil strife is as much 
+worse than united war as war is worse than peace. 
+Knowing that, they gave ground and waived their 
+claim, but only so long as they had great need of 
+the others, as was shown ; for when they had driven 
+the Persian back and the battle was no longer for 
+their territory but for his, they made a pretext of 
+Pausanias highhandedness and took the command 
+away from the Lacedaemonians. But all that befel 
+later.1 
+
+4. But now, the Greeks who had at last come to 
+Artemisium saw a multitude of ships launched at 
+Aphetae, and armaments everywhere, and contrary 
+to all expectation the foreigner was shown to be 
+in far other case than they had supposed ; wherefore 
+they lost heart and began to take counsel for flight 
+from Artemisium homewards into Hellas. Then 
+the Euboeans, seeing them to be thus planning, 
+entreated Eurybiades to wait a little while, till they 
+themselves should have brought away their children 
+and households. But when they could not prevail 
+with him, they essayed another way, and gave 
+Themistocles, the Athenian admiral, a bribe of 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ταλάντοισι, ἐπ᾽ ( τε καταμείναντες πρὸ τῆς 
+Εὐβοίης ποιήσονται τὴν ναυμαχίην. 
+
+5. Ὁ δὲ Θεμιστοκλέης τοὺς “Ελληνας ἐπισχεῖν 
+ὧδε ποιέει" ᾿Βὐρυβιάδῃ τούτων τῶν χρημάτων 
+μεταδιδοῖ. πέντε τάλαντα ὡς παρ ἑωυτοῦ δῆθεν 
+διδούς. ὡς δέ οἱ οὗτος ἀνεπέπειστο, ᾿Αδείμαντος 
+
+N e» " ε / ` ^ ^ 
+yàp o Qxvrov ὁ Κορίνθιος στρατηγὸς τῶν Ἀοιπῶν 
+ἤσπαιρε μοῦνος, φάμενος ἀποπλεύσεσθαί τε ἀπὸ 
+τοῦ ᾿Ἀρτεμισίου καὶ οὐ παραμενέειν, πρὸς δὴ τοῦτον 
+εἶπε ὁ Θεμιστοκλέης ἐπομόσας “Οὐ σύ γε ἡμέας 
+ἀπολείψεις, ἐπεί τοι ἐγὼ μέζω δῶρα δώσω ἢ βα- 
+σιλεὺς ἄν τοι Ó Μήδων πέμψειε ἀπολιπόντι τοὺς 
+συμμάχους. ταῦτά τε ἅμα ἠγόρευε καὶ πέμπει 
+ἐπὶ τὴν νέα, τὴν ᾿Αδειμάντου τάλαντα ἀργυρίου 
+τρία. οὗτοί τε δὴ πάντες δώροισι ἀναπεπεισμέ- 
+νοι ἦσαν καὶ τοῖσι Εὐβοεῦσι ἐκεχάριστο, αὐτός 
+τε ὁ Θεμιστοκλέης ἐκέρδηνε, ἐλάνθανε δὲ τὰ λοιπὰ 
+ἔχων, GAN ἠπιστέατο οἱ μεταλαβόντες τούτων 
+o χρημάτων ἐκ τῶν ᾿Αθηνέων ἐλθεῖν ἐπὶ τῷ 
+
+OYW τούτῳ τὰ χρήματα. 
+
+6. Οὕτω δὴ κατέἐμεινάν τε ἐν τῇ Εὐβοίῃ καὶ 
+ἐναυμάχησαν, ἐγένετο δὲ ὧδε. ἐπείτε δὴ ἐς τὰς 
+᾿Αφέτας περὶ δείλην πρωίην γινομένην ἀπίκατο 
+οἱ βάρβαροι, πυθόμενοι μὲν ἔτι καὶ πρότερον περὶ 
+τὸ ᾿Αρτεμίσιον ναυλοχέειν νέας "Ελληνίδας ὀλίγας, 
+τότε δὲ αὐτοὶ ἰδόντες, πρόθυμοι ἡ ἦσαν ἐπιχειρέειν, 
+εἴ κως ἕλοιεν αὐτάς. ἐκ μὲν δὴ τῆς ἀντίης προσ- 
+πλέειν οὔ xc σφι ἐδόκεε τῶνδε εἵνεκα, μή κως 
+ἰδόντες οἱ "Ελληνες προσπλέοντας ἐς φυγὴν 
+ὁρμήσειαν φεύγοντάς τε εὐφρόνη καταλαμβάνῃ" 
+καὶ ἔμελλον δῆθεν ἐκφεύξεσθαι, ἔδει δὲ μηδὲ 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 4-6 
+
+
+thirty talents on the condition that the Greek fleet 
+should remain there and fight, when they fought, 
+to defend Euboea. 
+
+5. This was the way whereby Themistocles made 
+the Greeks to stay where they were: he gave 
+Eurybiades for his share five talents of that money, 
+as though it were of his own that he gave it. 
+Eurybiades being thus won over, none of the rest 
+was of a resisting temper save only Adimantus, son 
+of Ocytus, the Corinthian admiral, who said that 
+he would not remain but sail away from Artemisium ; 
+to him said Themistocles, adding an oath thereto: 
+“Nay, you of all men will not desert us; for I will 
+give you a greater gift than the king of the Medes 
+would send you for deserting your allies" ; and 
+with that saying he sent withal three talents of 
+silver to Adimantus' ship. So these two were won 
+over by gifts, the Euboeans got their desire, and 
+Themistocles himself was the gainer; he kept the 
+rest of the money, none knowing, but they that 
+had received a part of it supposing that it had 
+been sent for that intent by the Athenians. 
+
+6. So the Greeks abode off Euboea and there 
+fought; and it came about as I shall show. Having 
+arrived at Aphetae in the early part of the after- 
+noon, the foreigners saw for themselves the few 
+Greek ships that they had already heard were 
+stationed off Artemisium, and they were eager to 
+attack, that so they might take them. Now they 
+were not yet minded to make an onfall front 
+to front, for fear lest the Greeks should see them 
+coming and take to flight, and night close upon 
+them as they fled; it was their belief that the 
+Greeks would save themselves by flight, and by the 
+
+
+7 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+πυρφόρον τῷ ἐκείνων λόγῳ ἐκφυγόντα Trepi- 
+γενέσθαι. 
+
+7. Πρὸς ταῦτα ὧν τάδε ἐμηχανῶντο' τῶν νεῶν 
+ἁπασέων ἀποκρίναντες διηκοσίας περιέπεμπον 
+ἔξωθεν Σκιάθου, ὡς ἂν μὴ ὀφθείησαν ὑπὸ τῶν 
+πολεμίων περιπλέουσαι Κὔβοιαν κατά τε Καφηρέα 
+καὶ περὶ Γεραιστὸν. ἐς τὸν Εὔριπον, i ίνα δὴ περι- 
+λάβοιεν οἳ μὲν ταύτῃ ἀπικόμενοι καὶ φράξαντες 
+αὐτῶν τὴν ὀπίσω φέρουσαν ὁδόν, σφεῖς δὲ ἐπι- 
+σπόμενοι ἐξ ἐναντίης. ταῦτα βουλευσάμενοι 
+ἀπέπεμπον τῶν νεῶν τὰς ταχθείσας, αὐτοὶ οὐκ 
+ἐν νόῳ ἔχοντες ταύτης τῆς ἡμέρης τοῖσι "Ελλησι 
+ἐπιθήσεσθαι, οὐδὲ πρότερον | ἢ τὸ σύνθημά σφι 
+ἔμελλε φανήσεσθαι παρὰ τῶν περιπλεόντω ν ὡς 
+ἡκόντων. ταύτας μὲν δὴ περιέπεµπον, τῶν δὲ 
+λοιπέων νεῶν ἐν τῇσι. ᾿Αφέτῃσι € ἐποιεῦντο ἀριθμόν. 
+
+8. Ev δὲ τούτῳ TO χρόνῳ ἐν à οὗτοι ἀριθμὸν 
+ἐποιεῦντο τῶν νεῶν, ἦν yap ἐν τῷ στρατοπέδῳ 
+τούτῳ Σκυλλίης Σκιωναῖος δύτης τῶν τότε 
+ἀνθρώπων à ἄριστος, ὃς καὶ ἐν TH ναυηγίῃ τῇ κατὰ 
+Πήλιον γενομένῃ πολλὰ μὲν ἔσωσε τῶν χρηματων 
+τοῖσι Πέρσῃσι, πολλὰ δὲ καὶ αὐτὸς περιεβάλετο' 
+οὗτος ὁ Σκυλλίης ἐν νόῳ pev εἶχε ἄρα καὶ πρό- 
+τερον αὐτομολήσειν ἐς τοὺς “Ελληνας, ἀλλ᾽ οὐ 
+γάρ οἱ παρέσχε ὡς τότε. ὅτεῳ μὲν δὴ τρόπῳ 
+τὸ ἐνθεῦτεν ἔτι ἀπίκετο ἐς τοὺς "Έλληνας, οὐκ 
+ἔχω εἰπεῖν ἀτρεκέως, θωμάξω δὲ εἰ τὰ λεγόμενα 
+ἐστὶ ἀληθέα: λέγεται γὰρ ὡς ἐξ ᾿Αφετέων δὺς 
+ἐς τὴν θάλασσαν οὐ πρότερον ἀνέσχε πρὶν 7) 
+ἀπίκετο ἐπὶ τὸ ᾿Αρτεμίσιον, σταδίους μάλιστά 
+κη τούτους ἐς ὀγδώκοντα διὰ τῆς θαλάσσης 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 6-8 
+
+
+Persian purpose not so much as a firebearer! of them 
+must be saved alive. 
+
+7. Wherefore this was the plan that they devised. 
+Separating two hundred ships from the whole 
+number, they sent them to cruise outside Sciathus 
+(that so the enemies might not see them sailing 
+round Euboea) and by way of Caphereus round 
+Geraestus to the Euripus, so that they might catch 
+the Greeks between them, the one part holding 
+that course and barring the retreat, and they them- 
+selves attacking in front. Thus planning, they sent 
+the appointed ships on their way, purposing for 
+themselves to make no attack upon the Greeks that 
+day, nor before the signal should be seen whereby 
+the ships that sailed round were to declare their 
+coming. So they sent those ships to sail round, and 
+set about numbering the rest at Aphetae. 
+
+8. Now at the time of their numbering the ships, 
+there was in the fleet one Scyllias, a man of Scione; 
+he was the best diver of the time, and in the ship- 
+wreck at Pelion he had saved for the Persians 
+much of their possessions and won much withal for 
+himself; this Scyllias had ere now, it would seem, 
+purposed to desert to the Greeks, but he never 
+had had so fair an occasion as now. By what 
+means he did thereafter at last make his way to 
+the Greeks, I cannot with exactness say; but if 
+the story be true it is marvellous indeed; for it 
+is said that he dived into the sea at Aphetae and 
+never rose above it till he came to Artemisium, thus 
+passing underneath the sea for about eighty furlongs. 
+
+
+1 The πυρφόρος carricd the sacred fire which was always 
+kept alight for the sacrifices of the army; his person was 
+supposed to be inviolable. 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+διεξελθών. λέγεται μέν νυν καὶ ἄλλα ψευδέσι 
+εἴκελα περὶ τοῦ ἀνδρὸς τούτου, τὰ δὲ μετεξέτερα 
+ἀληθέα: περὶ μέντοι τούτου γνώμη μοι ἀποδεδέχθω 
+πλοίῳ μιν ἀπικέσθαι ἐπὶ τὸ ᾿Αρτεμίσιον. ὡς δὲ 
+ἀπίκετο, αὐτίκα ἐσήμηνε τοῖσι στρατηγοῖσι τήν 
+τε ναυηγίην ὡς γένοιτο, καὶ τὰς περιπεμφθείσας 
+τῶν νεῶν περὶ Εὔβοιαν. 
+
+9. Τοῦτο δὲ ἀκούσαντες οἱ "Ἕλληνες λόγον 
+σφίσι αὐτοῖσι ἐδίδοσαν. πολλῶν δὲ λεχθέντων 
+ἐνίκα τὴν ἡμέρην ἐκείνην αὐτοῦ μείναντάς τε καὶ 
+αὐλισθέντας, μετέπειτα νύκτα μέσην παρέντας 
+πορεύεσθαι καὶ ἀπαντᾶν τῆσι περιπλεούσησι 
+τῶν νεῶν. μετὰ δὲ τοῦτο, ὡς οὐδείς σφι ἐπέπλεε, 
+δείλην ὀψίην γινομένην τῇς ἡμέρης φυλάξαντες 
+αὐτοὶ ἐπανέπλεον ἐπὶ τοὺς βαρβάρους, ἆ ἀπόπειραν 
+αὐτῶν ποιήσασθαι βουλόμενοι τῆς τε μάχης καὶ 
+τοῦ διεκπλόου. 
+
+10. Ὁρῶντες δὲ σφέας οἵ τε ἄλλοι στρατιῶται 
+οἱ Ξέρξεω καὶ οἱ στρατηγοὶ ἐπιπλέοντας νηυσὶ 
+ὀλίγησι, πάγχυ σφι μανίην ἐπενείκαντες ἀνῆγον 
+καὶ αὐτοὶ τὰς νέας, ἐλπίσαντες σφέας εὐπετέως 
+αἱρήσειν, οἰκότα κάρτα ἐλπίσαντες, τὰς μέν γε 
+τῶν Ελλήνων ὁρῶντες ὀλίγας νέας, τὰς δὲ ἑωυτῶν 
+TAGE τε πολλαπλησίας καὶ ἄμεινον πλεούσας. 
+καταφρονήσαντες ταῦτα ἐκυκλοῦντο αὐτοὺς ἐς 
+μέσον. ὅσοι μέν νυν τῶν ᾿Ιώνων ἦσαν εὔνοοι 
+τοῖσι "Ελλησι, à ἀέκοντές τε ἐστρατεύοντο συμφορήν 
+τε ἐποιεῦντο μεγάλην ὁρῶντες περιεχομένους 
+αὐτοὺς καὶ ἐπιστάμενοι ὡς οὐδεὶς αὐτῶν ἀπο- 
+νοστήσει: οὕτω ἀσθενέα σφι ἐφαίνετο εἶναι τὰ 
+
+τῶν Ἑλλήνων πρήγματα, ὅσοισι δὲ καὶ ἡ δομέ- 
+νοισι ἦν τὸ γινόμενον, ἅμιλλαν ἐποιεῦντο ὅκως 
+10 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 8-10 
+
+
+There are many tales of this man, some like lies 
+and some true; but as concerning the present 
+business it is my opinion, which I hereby declare, 
+that he came to Artemisium in a boat. Having 
+then come, he straightway told the admirals the 
+story of the shipwreck, and of the ships that had 
+been sent round Euboea. 
+
+9. Hearing that, the Greeks took counsel together ; 
+there was much speaking, but the opinion prevailed 
+that they should abide and encamp where they were 
+for that day, and thereafter when it should be past 
+midnight put to sea and meet the ships that were 
+sailing round. But presently, none attacking them, 
+they waited for the late afternoon of the day and 
+themselves advanced their ships against the foreigner, 
+desiring to put to the proof his fashion of fighting 
+and the art of breaking the line. 
+
+10. When Xerxes men and their generals saw 
+the Greeks bearing down on them with but a few 
+ships, they deemed them assuredly mad, and them- 
+selves put out to sea, thinking to win an easy 
+victory ; which expectation was very reasonable, as 
+they saw the Greek ships so few, and their own 
+many times more numerous and more seaworthy. 
+With this assurance, they hemmed in the Greeks in 
+their midst. Now as many Ionians as were friendly 
+to the Greeks came unwillingly to the war, and 
+were sore distressed to see the Greeks surrounded, 
+supposing that not one of them would return home; 
+so powerless did the Greeks seem to them to be. 
+But those who were glad of the business vied each 
+with each that he might be the first to take an 
+
+
+! Tor the διεκπλους see Bk. VI. ch. 12. 
+II 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+αὐτὸς ἕκαστος πρῶτος νέα ᾿Αττικὴν ἑλὼν παρὰ 
+βασιλέος δῶρα λάμψεται' ᾿Αθηναίων γὰρ αὐτοῖσι 
+λόγος ἦν πλεῖστος ἀνὰ τὰ στρατόπεδα. 
+
+11. Τοῖσι δὲ “Ελλησι ὡς ἐσήμηνε, πρῶτα μὲν 
+ἀντίπρωροι τοῖσι βαρβάροισι γενόμενοι ἐς τὸ 
+μέσον τὰς πρύμνας συνήγαγον», δεύτερα δὲ 
+σημήναντος ἔργου εἴχοντο ἐν ὀλίγω TEP ἀπο- 
+λαμφθέντες καὶ κατὰ στόμα. ἐνθαῦτα τριήκοντα 
+νέας αἱρέουσι τῶν βαρβάρων καὶ τὸν lópyov τοῦ 
+Σαλαμινίων βασιλέος ἀδελφεὸν Φιλάονα τὸν 
+Χέρσιος, λόγιμον ἐόντα ἐν τῷ στρατοπέδῳ ἄνδρα. 
+πρῶτος δὲ Ἑλλήνων νέα τῶν πολεμίων εἷλε 
+ἀνὴρ ᾿Αθηναῖος Λυκομήδης Λἰσχραίου, καὶ τὸ 
+ἀριστήιον ἔλαβε οὗτος. τοὺς ὃ ἐν τῇ ναυμαχίη 
+ταύτῃ ἑτεραλκέως ἀγωνιξομένους νὺξ ἐπελθοῦσα 
+διέλυσε. οἱ uev δὴ Ἕλληνες ἐπὶ τὸ ᾿Αρτεμίσιον 
+ἀπέπλεον, οἱ δὲ βάρβαροι € ἐς τὰς ᾿Αφέτας, πολλὸν 
+παρὰ δόξαν ἀγωνισάμενοι. ἐν ταύτῃ τῇ ναυ- 
+payin ᾿Αντίδωρος Λήμνιος μοῦνος τῶν σὺν βασιλέι 
+Ἑλλήνων ἐόντων αὐτομολέει ἐς τοὺς "Ελληνας, 
+καὶ οἱ ον διὰ τοῦτο τὸ ἔργον ἔδοσαν αὐτῷ 
+
+ὧρον ἐν Σαλαμῖνι. 
+
+[290 ος εὐφρόνη ἐγεγόνεε, ἣν μὲν τῆς ὥρης 
+μέσον θέρος, ἐγίνετο δὲ ὕδωρ τε ἄπλετον διὰ 
+πάσης τῆς νυκτὸς καὶ σκληραὶ βρονταὶ ἀπὸ 
+τοῦ Πηλίου" οἱ δὲ νεκροὶ καὶ τὰ ναυήγια ἐξε- 
+φέροντο ἐς τὰς ᾿Αφέτας, καὶ περί τε τὰς πρώρας 
+τῶν νεῶν εἱλέοντο καὶ ἐτάρασσον τοὺς ταρσοὺς 
+τῶν κωπέων. οἱ δὲ στρατιῶται οἱ ταύτη ἀκούοντες 
+ταῦτα ἐς φόβον, κατιστέατο, ἐλπίξοντες πάγχυ 
+ἀπολέεσθαι ἐς οἷα κακὰ ἧκον. πρὶν, γὰρ ῆ καὶ 
+ἀναπνεῦσαι σφέας ἔκ τε τῆς ναυηγίης καὶ τοῦ 
+12 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 10-12 
+
+
+Attic ship and receive gifts from the king; for it 
+was the Athenians of whom there was most talk in 
+the fleet. 
+
+11. But the Greeks, when the signal was given 
+them, first drew the sterns of their ships together, 
+their prows turned towards the foreigners; then at 
+the second signal they put their hands to the work, 
+albeit they were hemmed in within a narrow space 
+and fought front to front. There they took thirty 
+of the foreigners’ ships and the brother of Gorgus 
+king of Salamis withal, even Philaon son of Chersis, 
+a man of note in the fleet. The first Greek to take 
+an enemy ship was an Athenian, Lycomedes, son 
+of Aeschraeus, and he it was who received the 
+prize for valour. They fought that seafight with 
+doubtful issue, and nightfall ended the battle; the 
+Greeks sailed back to Artemisium, and the foreigners 
+to Aphetae, after faring far below their hopes in 
+the fight. In that battle Antidorus of Lemnos 
+deserted to the Greeks, alone of all the Greeks 
+that were with the king; and for that the Athenians 
+gave him lands in Salamis, 
+
+12. When darkness came on, the season being 
+then midsummer, there was abundance of rain all 
+through the night and violent thunderings from 
+Pelion; and the dead and the wrecks were driven 
+towards Aphetae, where they were entangled with 
+the ships’ prows and fouled the blades of the oars. 
+The ships’ companies that were there were dismayed 
+by the noise of this, and looked in their present evil 
+ease for utter destruction; for before they were 
+
+
+r3 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+χειμῶνος τοῦ γενομένου κατὰ Πήλιον, ὑπέλαβε 
+ναυμαχίη καρτερή, ἐκ δὲ τῆς ναυμαχίης ὄμβρος 
+τε λάβρος καὶ ῥεύματα ἰσχυρὰ ἐς θάλασσαν 
+ὁρμημένα Bpovrat T€ σκληραί. 
+
+19. Καὶ τούτοισι μὲν τοιαύτη 7) νὺξ ἐγίνετο, 
+τοῖσι δὲ ταχθεῖσι αὐτῶν περιπλέειν Εὔβοιαν 7) 
+αὐτή. περ ἐοῦσα νὺξ πολλὸν ἦν ἔτι ἀγριωτέρη, 
+τοσούτῳ ὅσῳ ἐν πελάγεϊ φερομένοισι ἐπέπιπτε, 
+καὶ τὸ τέλος σφι ἐγίνετο ἄχαρι. ὡς γὰρ δὴ 
+πλέουσι αὐτοῖσι χειμών ' τε καὶ τὸ ὕδωρ ἐπεγίνετο 
+ἐοῦσι κατὰ τὰ Κοῖλα τῆς Εὐβοίης, φερόμενοι τῷ 
+πνεύματι καὶ οὐκ εἰδότες τῇ ἐφέροντο ἐξέπιπτον 
+πρὸς τὰς πέτρας" ἐποιέετό TE πᾶν ὑπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ 
+ὅκως ἂν ἐξισωθείη τῷ Ἑλληνικῷ τὸ Περσικὸν 
+μηδὲ πολλῷ πλέον εἴη. 
+
+14. Οὗτοι μέν νυν περὶ τὰ Κοῖλα τῆς Εὐβοίης 
+διεφθείροντο: οἱ Ò ἐν ᾿Αφέτῃσι βάρβαροι, ὥς 
+σφι ἀσμένοισι ἡμέρη ἐπέλαμψε, ἀτρέμας τε 
+εἶχον τὰς νέας Kat σφι ἀπεχρᾶτο κακῶς πρήσ- 
+σουσι ἡσυχίην ἄγειν ἐν τῷ παρεόντι. τοῖσι δε 
+Ἕλλησι ἐπεβοήθεον νέες τρεῖς καὶ πεντήκοντα 
+᾽Αττικαί. αὗταί τε δή σφεας ἐπέρρωσαν àr- 
+«ὀμεναι καὶ ἅμα, ἀγγελίη ἐλθοῦσα, ὡς τῶν Βαρ- 
+βάρων οἱ περιπλέοντες τὴν Εὔβοιαν πάντες εἴησαν 
+διεφθαρμένοι ù ὑπὸ τοῦ γενομένου χειμῶνος. pva- 
+ἕαντες δὴ τὴν αὐτὴν -ὥρην, πλέοντες ἐπέπεσον 
+νηυσὶ Κιλίσσῃσι: ταύτας δὲ διαφθείραντες, ὡς 
+εὐφρόνη ἐγίνετο, ἀπέπλεον ὀπίσω ἐπὶ τὸ 
+᾿Αρτεμίσιον. 
+
+15. Τρίτῃ δὲ ἡμέρῃ δεινόν τι ποιησάμενοι οἱ 
+στρατηγοὶ τῶν βαρβάρων νέας οὕτω σφι ὀλίγας 
+λυμαίνεσθαι, καὶ τὸ ἀπὸ Ξέρξεω δειμαίνοντες, 
+
+
+14 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 12-15 
+
+
+recovered after the shipwreck and the storm off 
+Pelion, they next must abide a stubborn sea-fight, and 
+after the sea-fight rushing rain and mighty torrents 
+pouring seaward and violent thunderings. 
+
+13. Thus did the night deal with them; but to 
+those that were appointed to sail round Euboea that 
+same night was much crueller yet, inasmuch as it 
+caught them on the open sea; and an evil end they 
+had. For the storm and the rain coming on them 
+in their course off the Hollows of Euboea, they 
+were driven by the wind they knew not whither, 
+and were cast upon the rocks. All this was the 
+work of heaven's providence, that so the Persian 
+power might be more equally matehed with the 
+Greek, and not much greater than it. 
+
+14. So these perished at the Hollows of Euboea. 
+But the foreigners at Aphetae, when to their great 
+comfort the day dawned, kept their ships unmoved, 
+being in their evil plight well content to do nothing 
+for the nonce; and fifty-three Attic ships came to 
+aid the Greeks, who were heartened by the ships’ 
+coming and the news brought withal that the 
+foreigners sailing round Euboea had all perished 
+in the late storm. ‘They waited then for the same 
+hour as before, and putting to sea fell upon certain 
+Cilician ships; which having destroyed, when dark- 
+ness came on, they returned back to Artemisium. 
+
+15. But on the third day, the foreign admirals, ill 
+brooking that so few ships should do them hurt, 
+and fearing Xerxes’ anger, waited no longer for the 
+
+
+I5 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οὐκ ἀνέμειναν ἔτι τοὺς “Ελληνας μάχης ἄρξαι, 
+ἀλλὰ παρακελευσάμενοι κατὰ μέσον ἡμέρης 
+ἀνῆγον τὰς νέας. συνέπιπτε δὲ ὥστε Tas αὐτὰς 
+ἡμέρας τάς τε ναυμαχίας γίνεσθαι ταύτας καὶ 
+τὰς πεζομαχίας τὰς ἐν Θερμοπύλῃσι. ἣν δὲ 
+πᾶς ὁ ἀγὼν τοῖσι κατὰ θάλασσαν. περὶ τοῦ 
+Εὐρίπου, ὥσπερ τοῖσι ἀμφὶ Λεωνίδην τὴν ἐσβολὴν 
+φυλάσσειν. of μὲν δὴ παρεκελεύοντο ὅκως μὴ 
+παρήσουσι ἐς τὴν ᾿Ιθλλάδα τοὺς βαρβάρους, oi 
+δ᾽ ὅκως τὸ Ἱλληνικὸν στράτευμα διαφθείραντες 
+τοῦ πόρου κρατήσουσι. ὡς δὲ ταξάμενοι οἱ 
+Ξέρξεω. ἐπέπλεον, οἱ “Ελληνες ἀτρέμας εἶχον 
+πρὸς τῶ ᾿Αρτεμισίῳ. οἱ δὲ βάρβαροι μηνοειδὲς 
+ποιήσαντες τῶν νεῶν ἐκυκλοῦντο, ὡς περιλάβοιεν 
+αὐτούς. 
+
+16. ᾿Ενθεῦτεν οἱ Ἕλληνες ἐπανέπλεόν τε καὶ 
+συνέμισγον. ἐν ταύτῃ τῇ ναυμαχίῃ παραπλήσιοι 
+ἀλλήλοισι ἐγίνοντο. ὁ γὰρ Ξέρξεω στρατὸς ὑπὸ 
+μεγάθεός τε καὶ πλήθεος αὐτὸς ὑπ᾽ ἑωυτοῦ 
+ἔπιπτε, ταρασσομενέων TE τῶν νεῶν καὶ περι- 
+πιπτουσέων περὶ ἀλλήλας" ὅμως μέντοι ἀντεῖχε 
+καὶ οὐκ εἶκε: δεινὸν γὰρ χρῆμα ἐποιεῦντο ὑπὸ 
+νεῶν ὀλιγέων ἐς φυγὴν τράπεσθαι. πολλαὶ μὲν 
+δὴ τῶν Ελλήνων νέες διεφθείροντο πολλοὶ δὲ 
+ἄνδρες, πολλῷ δ ἔτι πλεῦνες νέες τε τῶν Bap- 
+βάρων καὶ ἄνδρες. οὕτω δὲ ἆἀγωνιζόμενοι διέστησαν 
+χωρὶς ἑκάτεροι. 
+
+17. Ἔν ταύτῃ τῇ ναυμαχίῃ Αἰγύπτιοι μὲν τῶν 
+Ξέρξεω στρατιωτέων ἠρίστευσαν, οἳ ἄλλα τε 
+μεγάλα ἔργα ἀπεδέξαντο καὶ νέας αὐτοῖσι ἀνδράσι 
+εἶλον Ελληνίδας πέντε. τῶν δὲ Ἑλλήνων κατὰ 
+
+
+ταύτην τὴν ἡμέρην ἠρίστευσαν ᾿Αθηναῖοι καὶ 
+16 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 15-17 
+
+
+Greeks to begin the fight, but gave the word and 
+put out to sea about midday. And it so fell out 
+that these sea-battles were fought through the same 
+days as the land-battles at Thermopylae; the sea- 
+men's whole endeavour was to hold the Euripus, as 
+Leonidas men strove to guard the passage; the 
+Greek battle word was to give the foreigner no 
+entry into Hellas, and the Persian to destroy the 
+Greek host and win the strait. So when Xerxes’ 
+men ordered their battle and came on, the Greeks 
+abode in their place off Artemisium; and theforeigners 
+made a half circle of their ships, and strove to encircle 
+and enclose them round. 
+
+16. At that the Greeks charged and joined 
+battle. In that sea-figit both had equal success. 
+For Xerxes' fleet wrought itself harm by its numbers 
+and multitude; the ships were thrown into con- 
+fusion and ran foul of each other; nevertheless they 
+held fast, nor yielded, for they could not bear to 
+be put to flight by a few ships. Many were the 
+Greek ships and men that there perished, and far 
+more yet of the foreigners’ ships and men; thus 
+they battled, till they drew off and parted each 
+from other. 
+
+17. In that sea-fight of all Xerxes' fighters the 
+Egyptians bore themselves best; besides other great 
+feats of arms that they achieved, they took five 
+Greek ships and their crews withal. Of the Greeks 
+on that day the Athenians bore themselves best; 
+
+
+17 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+᾿Αθηναίων Κλεινίης ὁ ᾽Αλκιβιάδεω, ὃς δαπάνην 
+οἰκηίην παρεχόμενος ἐστρατεύετο ἀνδράσι τε 
+διηκοσίοισι καὶ οἰκηίη vnl. 
+
+18. Ὡς δὲ διέστησαν, ἄσμενοι ἑκάτεροι ἐς 
+ὅρμον ἠπείγοντο. οἱ δὲ “Ελληνες ὡς διακριθέντες 
+ἐκ τῆς ναυμαχίης ἀπηλλάχθησαν, τῶν μὲν νεκρῶν 
+καὶ τῶν ναυηγίων ἐπεκράτεον, τρηχέως δὲ περιε- 
+φθέντες, καὶ οὐκ ἥκιστα ᾿Αθηναῖοι τῶν αἱ ἡμίσεαι 
+τῶν νεῶν τετρωμέναι ἦσαν, δρησμὸν δὴ ἐβούλευον 
+ἔσω ἐς τὴν Ελλάδα. 
+
+19. Νόῳ δὲ λαβὼν ὁ Θεμιστοκλέης ὡς εἰ 
+ἀπορραγείη ἀπὸ τοῦ βαρβάρου τό τε ᾿Ιωνικὸν 
+φῦλον καὶ τὸ Καρικόν, οἷοί τε εἴησαν ἂν τῶν 
+λοιπῶν κατύπερθε γενέσθαι, ἐλαυνόντων τῶν 
+Εὐβοέων πρόβατα ἐπὶ τὴν θάλασσαν ταύτην, 
+συλλέξας τοὺς στρατηγοὺς ἔλεγέ σφι ὡς δοκέοι 
+ἔχειν τινὰ παλάμην, τῇ ἐλπίζοι τῶν βασιλέος 
+
+Z 9 / > ^ 
+συμμάχων ἀποστήσειν τοὺς ἀρίστους. ταῦτα 
+μέν νυν ἐς τοσοῦτο παρεγύμνου, ἐπὶ δὲ τοῖσι 
+κατήκουσι πρήγμασι τάδε ποιητέα σφι εἶναι 
+ἔλεγε, τῶν τε προβάτων τῶν Βὐβοϊκῶν καταθύειν 
+ὅσα τις ἐθέλοι" κρέσσον γὰρ εἶναι τὴν στρατιὴν 
+ἔχειν 7) TOUS πολεμίους’ παραίνεέ πε προειπεῖν 
+τοῖσι ἑωυτῶν ἑκάστους πῦρ ἀνακαίειν' κομιδῆς 
+δὲ πέρι τὴν ὥρην αὐτῷ μελήσειν, ὥστε ἀσινέας 
+ἀπικέσθαι ἐς τὴν Ἑλλάδα. ταῦτα ἤρεσέ σφι 
+ποιέειν, καὶ αὐτίκα πῦρ ἀνακαυσάμενοι ἐτράποντο 
+πρὸς τὰ πρόβατα. 
+
+Οἱ γὰρ Πὐβοξες, παραχρησάμενοι τὸν 
+Βάκιδος χρησμὸν ὡς οὐδὲν λέγοντα, οὔτε τι 
+ἐξεκομίσαντο οὐδὲν οὔτε προσεσάξαντο ὡς παρε- 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 17-20 
+
+
+and of the Athenians Clinias son of Alcibiades; he 
+brought to the war two hundred men and a ship 
+of his own, all at his private charges. 
+
+18. So they parted and each right gladly made 
+haste to his own anchorage. When the Greeks 
+had drawn off and come out of the battle, they 
+were left masters of the dead and the wrecks; but 
+they had had rough handling, and chiefly the 
+Athenians, half of whose ships had suffered hurt; 
+and now their counsel was to flee to the inner 
+waters of Hellas.} 
+
+19. Themistocles bethought him that if the Ionian 
+and Carian nations were rent away from the 
+foreigners, the Greeks might be strong enough to 
+get the upper hand of the rest. Now it was the 
+wont of the Euboeans to drive their flocks down 
+to the sea there. Wherefore gathering the admirals 
+together he told them that he thought he had a 
+device whereby he hoped to draw away the best 
+of the king's allies. So much he revealed for the 
+nonce; but in the present turn of affairs this (he 
+said) they must do: let everyone slay as many as 
+he would from the Euboean flocks; it was better 
+that the fleet should have them, than the enemy. 
+Moreover he counselled them each to bid his men 
+to light a fire; as for the time of their going thence, 
+he would take such thought for that as should 
+bring them scathless to Hellas. All this they 
+agreed to do; and forthwith they lit fires and then 
+laid hands on the flocks. 
+
+20. For the Euboeans had neglected the oracle 
+of Bacis, deeming it void of meaning, and neither 
+by carrying away nor by bringing in anything had 
+
+1 This means, I suppose, to the seas nearer their homes. 
+
+
+L9 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+σομένου σφι πολέμου, περυπετέα τε ἐποιήσαντο 
+σφίσι αὐτοῖσι τὰ πρήγματα. Βάκιδι γὰρ ὧδε 
+ἔχει περὶ τούτων ὁ χρησμός. 
+
+
+φράζεο, βαρβαρόφωνος ὅταν ξυγὸν εἰς ἅλα 
+άλλη 
+
+βύβλινον, Εὐβοίης ἀπέχειν πολυμηκάδας 
+αἶγας. 
+
+
+τούτοισι οὐδὲν τοῖσι ἔπεσι χρησαμένοισι ἐν τοῖσι 
+τότε παρεοῦσί τε καὶ προσδοκίµοισι κακοῖσι 
+παρῆν σφι συμφορῇ χρᾶσθαι πρὸς τὰ μέγιστα. 
+
+21, Οἳ μὲν δὴ ταῦτα ἔπρησσον, παρῆν δὲ ὁ 
+ἐκ Τρηχῖνος κατάσκοπος. ἦν μὲν γὰρ ἐπ᾽ 'Apre- 
+μισίῳ κατάσκοπος Πολύας, γένος ᾿Αντικυρεύς, 
+τῷ προσετέτακτο, καὶ εἶχε πλοῖον κατῆρες ἕτοι- 
+μον, εἰ παλήσειε ὁ ναυτικὸς στρατός, σημαίνειν 
+τοῖσι ἐν Θερμοπύλησι odor ws Ò αὕτως ἣν 
+᾿Αβρώνιχος ὁ Λυσικλέος ᾿Αθηναῖος καὶ παρὰ 
+Λεωνίδῃ ἕτοιμος τοῖσι ἐπ ᾿Αρτεμισίῳ ἐοῦσι 
+ἀγγέλλειν τριηκοντέρῳ, ἦν τι καταλαμβάνῃ vew- 
+τερον τὸν πεξόν. οὗτος ὧν ὁ ᾿Αβρώνιχος ATL- 
+κόμει' os σφι ἐσήμαινε τὰ ποτα περὶ Λεωνίδην 
+καὶ τὸν στρατὸν αὐτοῦ. δὲ ὡς ἐπύθοντο 
+ταῦτα, οὐκέτι ἐς ἀναβολὰς ἐποιεῦντο τὴν ἀπο- 
+χώρησιν, ἐκομίξοντο δὲ ὡς ἕκαστοι ἐτάχθησαν, 
+Κορίνθιοι πρῶτοι, ὕστατοι δὲ ᾿Αθηναῖοι. 
+
+22. ᾿Αθηναίων δὲ νέας τὰς ἄριστα πλεούσας 
+ἐπιλεξάμενος Θεμιστοκλέης ἐπορεύετο περὶ τὰ 
+πότιμα ὕδατα, ἐντάμνων ἐν τοῖσι λίδοισι γράμ- 
+ματα, τὰ Ἴωνες ἐπελθόντες τῇ ὑστεραίῃ. ἡμέρῃ 
+ἐπὶ τὸ ᾿Αρτεμίσιον ἐπελέξαντο. τὰ δὲ γράμματα 
+τάδε ἔλεγε. ' Άνδρες Ἴωνες, οὐ ποιέετε δίκαια 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 20-22 
+
+
+they shown that they feared an enemy's coming ; 
+whereby they were the cause of their own destruc- 
+tion; for Bacis’ oracle concerning this matter runs 
+thus: 
+
+
+* Whenso a strange-tongued man on the waves 
+casts yoke of papyrus, 
+Then let bleating goats from coasts Éuboean be 
+banished." 
+
+
+To these verses the Euboeans gave no heed; but 
+in the evils then present and soon to come they 
+eould not but heed their dire calamity. 
+
+21. While the Greeks were doing as I have said, 
+there came to them the watcher from Trachis. For 
+there was a watcher at Artemisium, one Polyas, a 
+native of Anticyra, who was charged (and had a 
+rowing boat standing ready therefor), if the flect 
+should be at grips, to declare it to the men at 
+Thermopylae; and in like manner, if any ill should 
+befall the land army, Abronichus son of Lysicles, 
+an Athenian, was with Leonidas, ready for his part 
+to bring the news in a thirty-oared bark to the 
+Greeks at Artemisium. So this Abronichus came 
+and declared to them the fate of Leonidas and his 
+army; which when the Greeks learnt, they no 
+longer delayed their departure, but went their ways 
+in their appointed order, the Corinthians first, and 
+last of all the Athenians. 
+
+22. But Themistocles picked out the seaworthiest 
+Athenian ships and went about to the places of 
+drinking water, where he engraved on the rocks 
+writing which the lonians read on the next day 
+when they came to Artemisium. This was what 
+the writing said: * Men of Ionia, you do wrongly 
+
+
+21 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐπὶ τοὺς πατέρας στρατευόμενοι καὶ τὴν Ελλάδα 
+καταδουλούμενοι. ἀλλὰ μάλιστα μὲν πρὸς ἡμέων 
+γίνεσθε" εἰ δὲ ὑμῖν ἐστι τοῦτο μὴ δυνατὸν ποιῆσαι, 
+ὑμεῖς δὲ ἔτι καὶ νῦν ἐκ τοῦ μέσου ἡμῖν ἔξεσθε καὶ 
+αὐτοὶ καὶ τῶν Καρῶν δέεσθε τὰ αὐτὰ ὑμῖν ποιέειν. 
+ei δὲ μηδέτερον τούτων οἷόν τε γίνεσθαι, ἀλλ ὑπ᾽ 
+ἀναγκαίης μέξονος κατέζευχθε ἢ ὥστε ἀπίστασθαι, 
+ὑμεῖς δὲ ἐν τῷ ἔργῳ, ἐπεὰν συμμίσγωμεν, ἐθελο- 
+κακέετε μεμνημένοι ὅτι ἀπ᾽ ἡμέων γεγόνατε καὶ 
+ὅτι ἀρχῆθεν 7 ἔχθρη πρὸς τὸν βάρβαρον aT 
+ὑμέων ἡμῖν γέγονε,” Θεμιστοκλέης δὲ ταῦτα 
+ἔγραφε, δοκέειν ἐμοί, ἐπ᾽ ἀμφότερα νοέων, ἵνα 7) 
+λαθόντα τὰ γράμματα βασιλέα Ἴωνας ποιήσῃ 
+μεταβαλεῖν καὶ γενέσθαι πρὸς ἑωντῶν, ?) ἐπείτε 
+ἀνενειχθῇ καὶ διαβληθῇ πρὸς Ξέρξην, ἀπίστους 
+ποιήσῃ τοὺς Ἴωνας καὶ τῶν ναυμαχιέων αὐτοὺς 
+ἀπόσχῃ. 
+
+25. Θεμιστοκλέης μὲν ταῦτα ἐνέγραψε" τοῖσι δὲ 
+βαρβάροισι αὐτίκα μετὰ ταῦτα πλοίῳ ἦλθε ἀνὴρ 
+Ἱστιαιεὺς ἀγγέλλων τὸν δρησμὸν τὸν ἀπ᾽ Apre- 
+μισίου τῶν ᾿Ελλήνων. of & vm ἀπιστίης τὸν 
+μὲν ἀγγέλλοντα εἶχον ἐν φυλακῇ, νέας δὲ ταχέας 
+ἀπέστειλαν προκατοψομένας" ἀπαγγειλάντων δὲ 
+τούτων τὰ ἣν, οὕτω δὴ ἅμα ἡλίῳ σκιδναμένῳ 
+πᾶσα ἡ στρατιὴ ἐπέπλεε ἁλὴς ἐπὶ τὸ ᾿Αρτεμίσιον. 
+ἐπισχόντες δὲ ἐν τούτῳ TO χώρῳ μέχρι μέσου 
+ἡμέρης, τὸ ἀπὸ τούτου ἔπλεον ἐς Ἱστιαίην' ἀπι- 
+κόμενοι δὲ τὴν πόλιν ἔσχον τῶν Ἱστιαιέων, καὶ 
+τῆς ᾿λλοπίης μοίρης γῆς δὲ τῆς “Ἱστιαιώτιδος 
+τὰς παραθαλασσίας χώρας πάσας ἐπέδραμον. 
+
+24. ᾿Ενθαῦτα δὲ τούτων ἐόντων, Ξέρξης ἕτοι- 
+
+
+22 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 22-24 
+
+
+to fight against the land of your fathers and bring 
+slavery upon Hellas. It were best of all that you 
+should join yourselves to us; but if that be im- 
+possible for you, then do you even now withdraw 
+yourselves from the war, and entreat the Carians 
+to do the same as you. If neither of these things 
+may be, and you are fast bound by such constraint 
+that you cannot rebel, yet we pray you not to use 
+your full strength in the day of battle; be mindful 
+that you are our sons and that our quarrel with the 
+foreigner was of your making in the beginning." 
+To my thinking Themistocles thus wrote with a 
+double intent, that if the king knew nought of the 
+writing it might make the Ionians to change sides 
+and join with the Greeks, and that if the writing 
+were maliciously reported to Xerxes he might thereby 
+be led to mistrust the Ionians, and keep them out 
+of the sea-fights. 
+
+23. Such was Themistocles' writing. Immediately 
+after this there came to the foreigners a man of 
+Histiaea in a boat, telling them of the flight of the 
+Greeks from Artemisium. Not believing this, they 
+kept the bringer of the news in ward, and sent 
+swift ships to spy out the matter; and when the 
+crews of these brought word of the truth, on learning 
+that, the whole armada at the first spreading of sun- 
+light sailed all together to Artemisium, where having 
+waited till midday, they next sailed to Histiaea, and 
+on their coming took possession of the Histiaeans’ 
+city, and overran all the villages on the seaboard of 
+the Ellopian 1 region, which is the land of Histiaea. 
+
+24. While they were there, Xerxes sent a herald 
+
+
+1 The northern half of Euboea, including the district of 
+Histiaea. 
+
+
+23 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μασάμενος τὰ περὶ τοὺς νεκροὺς ἔπεμπε ἐς τὸν 
+ναυτικὸν στρατὸν κήρυκα, προετοιμάσατο δὲ 
+τάδε' ὅσοι τοῦ στρατοῦ τοῦ ἑωυτοῦ ἦσαν νεκροὶ 
+ἐν Θερμοπύλῃσι (ἦσαν δὲ καὶ δύο μυριάδες), 
+ὑπολιπόμενος τούτων ὡς χιλίους, τοὺς λοιποὺς 
+τάφρους ὀρυξάμενος ἔθαψε, φυλλάδα τε ἐπιβαλὼν 
+καὶ γῆν ἐπαμησάμενος, ἵνα μὴ ὀφθείησαν ὑπὸ τοῦ 
+ναυτικοῦ στρατοῦ. ὡς δὲ διέβη ἐς τὴν Ἱστιαίην 
+
+ὁ κῆρυξ, σύλλογον ποιησάμενος παντὸς τοῦ στρα- 
+Ἔν, ἔλεγε τάδε. “Άνδρες σύμμαχοι, βασι- 
+λεὺς Ξέρξης τῷ βουλομένῳ ὑμέων παραδίδωσι 
+ἐκλιπόντα τὴν τάξιν καὶ ἐλθόντα θεήσασθαι ὅ ὅκως 
+μάχεται πρὸς τοὺς ἀνοήτους τῶν ἀνθρώπων, οἳ 
+ἤλπισαν τὴν βασιλέος δύναμιν ὑπερβαλέεσθαι,᾽ 
+
+25. Ῥαῦτα ἐπαγγειλαμένου, μετὰ ταῦτα οὐδὲν 
+ἐγίνετο πλοίων σπανιώτερον: οὕτω πολλοὶ ἤθελον 
+θεήσασθαι. διαπεραιωθέντες δὲ ἐθηεῦντο διεξιόντες 
+τοὺς νεκρούς: πάντες δὲ ἠπιστέατο τοὺς κειμένους 
+εἶναι πάντας Λακεδαιμονίους καὶ Θεσπιέας, ὁρῶν- 
+τες καὶ τοὺς εἵλωτας. οὐ μὲν οὐδ᾽ ἐλάνθανε τοὺς 
+διαβεβηκότας Ξέρξης ταῦτα πρήξας περὶ τοὺς 
+νεκροὺς τοὺς ἑωυτοῦ: καὶ γὰρ δὴ, καὶ γελοῖον ἦν" 
+τῶν μὲν χίλιοι ἐφαίνοντο νεκροὶ κείμενοι, οἳ δὲ 
+πάντες ἐκέατο ἁλέες συγκεκομισμένοι ἐς TOUTO 
+χωρίον, τέσσερες χιλιάδες. ταύτην μὲν τὴν 
+ἡμέρην πρὸς θέην ἐτράποντο, τῇ δ᾽ ὑστεραίῃ οἳ 
+μὲν ἀπέπλεον ἐς Ἱστιαίην ἐπὶ τὰς νέας, οἱ δὲ 
+ἀμφὶ Ξέρξην és ὁδὸν ὁρμέατο. 
+
+26. ΄Ἠκον δέ σφι αὐτόμολοι ἄνδρες ἀπ᾽ ᾿Άρκα- 
+δίης ὀλίγοι τινές, βίου τε δεόμενοι καὶ ἐνεργοὶ 
+Βουλόμενοι εἶναι. ἄγοντες δὲ τούτους ἐς ὄψιν 
+τὴν βασιλέος ἐπυνθάνοντο οἱ Πέρσαι περὶ τῶν 
+
+
+24 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 24-26 
+
+
+to the fleet, having first bestowed the fallen men as 
+[ shall show. | Of all his own soldiers who had fallen 
+at Thermopylae (that is, as many astwenty thousand) 
+he left about a thousand, and the rest he buried in 
+digged trenches, which he covered with leaves and 
+heaped earth, that the men of the fleet might not 
+see them. So when the herald had crossed over 
+to Histiaea, he assembled all the men of the fleet 
+and thus spoke: “ Men of our allies, King Xerxes 
+suffers any one of you that will to leave his place 
+and come to see how he fights against those foolish 
+men who thought to overcome the king’s power." 
+25. After this proclamation, there was nought so 
+hard to get as a boat, so many were they who would 
+see the sight. They crossed over and went about 
+viewing the dead; and all of them supposed that 
+the fallen Greeks were all Lacedaemonians and 
+Thespians, though there were the helcts also for 
+them to see. Yet for all that they that crossed 
+over were not deceived by what Xerxes had done 
+with his own dead; for indeed the thing was 
+laughable; of the Persians a thousand lay dead 
+before their eyes, but the Greeks lay all together 
+assembled in one place, to the number of four thou- 
+sand. All that day they spent in seeing the sight; 
+on the next the shipmen returned to their fleet at 
+Histiaea, and Xerxes' army set forth on its march. 
+26. There had come to them some few deserters, 
+men of Arcadia, lacking a livelihood and desirous 
+to find some service. Bringing these men into the 
+king's presence, the Persians inquired of them what 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Ἑλλήνων τί ποιέοιεν' εἷς δέ τις πρὸ πάντων ἦν 
+ὁ εἰρωτῶν αὐτοὺς ταῦτα. οἳ δέ σφι ἔλεγον ὡς 
+Ολύμπια ἄγουσι καὶ θεωρέοιεν ἀγῶνα γυμνικὸν 
+καὶ ἱππικόν. ὃ δὲ ἐπείρετο ὃ τι τὸ ἄεθλον εἴη 
+σφι κείμενον περὶ ὅτευ ἀγωνίξονται" οἳ ὃ εἶπον 
+τῆς ἐλαίης τὸν διδόμενον στέφανον. ἐνθαῦτα 
+εἴπας γνώμην γενναιοτάτην Τιγράνης ὁ Apra- 
+βάνου δειλίην ὦφλε πρὸς βασιλέος. πυνθανό- 
+
+\ A }/ ἈΝ / H , H 
+μενος yap τὸ ἄεθλον EOV στέφανον ἀλλ, ου 
+χρήματα, οὔτε ἠνέσχετο σιγῶν εἶπέ τε ἐς πάντας 
+τάδε. ««Παπαῖ Μαρδόνιε, κοΐους em ἄνδρας 
+ἤγαγες μαχησομένους ἡμέας, οἳ οὐ ' περὶ χρημάτων 
+τὸν ἀγῶνα ποιεῦνται ἀλλὰ περὶ ἀρετῆς. τούτῳ 
+μὲν δὴ ταῦτα εἴρητο. 
+
+27. 'Ev δὲ τῷ διὰ μέσου χρόνῳ, ἐπείτε τὸ ἐν 
+Θερμοπύλῃσι τρῶμα ἐγεγόνεε, αὐτίκα Θεσσαλοὶ 
+πέμπουσι κήρυκα ἐς Φωκέας, ἅτε σφι ἔχοντες 
+αἰεὶ χόλον, ἀπὸ δὲ τοῦ ὑστάτου τρώματος καὶ 
+τὸ κάρτα. ἐσβαλόντες γὰρ πανστρατιῇ αὐτοί 
+τε οἱ Θεσσαλοὶ καὶ οἱ σύμμαχοι αὐτῶν ἐς τοὺς 
+Φωκέας, οὐ πολλοῖσι ἔτεσι πρότερον ταύτης τῆς 
+βασιλέος στρατηλασίης, ἑσσώθησαν ὑπὸ τῶν 
+Φωκέων καὶ περιέφθησαν τρηχέως. ἐπείτε γὰρ 
+κατειλήθησαν ἐς τὸν Παρνησὸν οἱ Φωκέες ἔχοντες 
+μάντιν Τελλίην τὸν ᾿Ηλεῖον, ἐνθαῦτα ὁ Τελλίης 
+οὗτος σοφί ζεται αὐτοῖσι τοιόνδε. γυψώσας ἄνδρας 
+ἑξακοσίους τῶν Φωκέων τοὺς ἀρίστους, αὐτούς τε 
+τούτους καὶ τὰ ὅπλα αὐτῶν, νυκτὸς ἐπεθήκατο 
+τοῖσι (Θεσσαλοῖσι, προείπας αὐτοῖσι, τὸν ἂν μὴ 
+
+
+1 On the hypothesis, usually received till lately, that the 
+games took place at the first full moon after the summer 
+
+
+26 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 26-27 
+
+
+the Greeks were doing, there being one who put 
+this question in the name of all. The Arcadians 
+telling them that the Greeks were keeping the 
+Olympic! festival and viewing sports and horse- 
+races, the Persian asked what was the prize offered, 
+wherefor they contended ; and they told him of the 
+crown of olive that was given to the victor. Then 
+Tigranes son of Artabanus uttered a most noble 
+saying (but the king deemed him a coward for it); 
+when he heard that the prize was not money but a 
+crown, he could not hold his peace, but cried, 
+* Zounds, Mardonius, what manner of men are these 
+that you have brought us to fight withal ? 'tisnot for 
+money they contend but for glory of achievement!” 
+Such was Tigranes’ saying. 
+
+21. in the meantime, immediately after the mis- 
+fortune at Thermopylae, the Thessalians sent a 
+
+erald to the Phocians, inasmuch as they bore an 
+old grudge against them, and more than ever by 
+reason of their latest disaster. For a few years 
+before the king’s expedition the Thessalians and 
+their allies had invaded Phocis with their whole 
+army, but had been worsted and roughly handled 
+by the Phocians. For the Phocians being beleaguered 
+on Parnassus and having with them the diviner 
+Tellias of Elis, Tellias devised a stratagem for them: 
+he covered six hundred of the bravest Phocians with 
+gypsum, themselves and their armour, and led them 
+to attack the Thessalians by night, bidding them 
+
+
+solstice, we should have to adopt some theory such as 
+Stein’s, that the conversation here recorded took place in 
+late June, while Xerxes was at Therma; for Thermopylae 
+was fought in late August. But Macan says that the above 
+hypothesis about the date of the games is exploded. 
+
+
+27 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+λευκανθίζοντα ἴδωνται, τοῦτον κτείνειν. τούτους 
+ὧν at τε φυλακαὶ τῶν Θεσσαλῶν πρῶται ἰδοῦσαι 
+ἐφοβήθησαν, δόξασαι ἄλλο τι εἶναι τέρας, καὶ 
+μετὰ τὰς φυλακὰς αὐτὴ ἡ στρατιὴ οὕτω ὥστε 
+τετρακισχιλίων κρατῆσαι ι2ερῶν καὶ ἀσπίδων 
+Φωκέας, τῶν τὰς μὲν ἡμισέας ἐς " Agas ἀνέθεσαν 
+τὰς δὲ ἐς Δελφούς ἡ δὲ δεκάτη ἐγένετο τῶν 
+χρημάτων ἐκ ταύτης τῆς μάχης οἱ μεγάλοι 
+ἀνδριάντες οἱ περὶ τὸν τρίποδα συνεστεῶτες 
+ἔμπροσθε τοῦ νηοῦ τοῦ ἐν Δελφοῖσι, καὶ ἕτεροι 
+τοιοῦτοι ἐν "Ano. ἀνακέαται. 
+
+28. Ταῦτα μέν νυν τὸν πεξὸν ἐργάσαντο τῶν 
+Ωεσσαλῶν οἱ Φωκέες πολιορκέοντας ἑωυτούς' 
+ἐσβαλοῦσαν δὲ ἐς τὴν χώρην τὴν ἵππον αὐτῶν 
+ἐλυμήναντο ἀνηκέστως. ἐν yap τῇ ἐσβολῇ À 
+ἐστὶ κατὰ Ὑάμπολιν, ἐν ταύτῃ τάφρον μεγάλην 
+ὀρύξαντες ἀμφορέας κενεοὺς ἐς αὐτὴν κατέθηκαν, 
+χοῦν δὲ ἐπιφορήσαντες καὶ ὁμοιώσαντες τῷ ἄλλῳ 
+χώρῳ ἐδέκοντο τοὺς Θεσσαλοὺς ἐσβάλλοντας. 
+οἳ δὲ ὡς ἀναρπασόμενοι τοὺς Φωκέας φερόμενοι 
+ἐσέπεσον ἐς τοὺς ἀμφορέας. ἐνθαῦτα οἱ ἵπποι 
+τὰ σκέλεα διεφθάρησαν. 
+
+, 29. Τούτων δή σφι ἀμφοτέρων ἐ ἔχοντες ἔγκοτον 
+
+| Θεσσαλοὶ πέμψ-αντες κήρυκα ἠγόρευον τάδε. 
+0 Φωκέες, ἤδη τι μᾶλλον γνωσιμαχέετε μὴ 
+εἶναι ὅμοιοι ἡμῖν. πρόσθε τε γὰρ ἐν τοῖσι “Ελλησι, 
+ὅσον χρόνον ἐκεῖνα ἡμῖν ἥν Save, πλέον αἰεί κοτε 
+ὑμέων ἐφερόμεθα: νῦν τε παρὰ τῷ βαρβάρῳ Το- 
+σοῦτο δυνάμεθα ὥστε ἐπ᾽ ἡμῖν ἐστι τῆς γῆς ἐστε- 
+ρῆσθαι καὶ πρὸς ἠνδραποξίσθαι ὑμέας. ἡμεῖς 
+μέντοι τὸ πῶν ἔχοντες οὐ μνησικακέοµεν, ἀλλ᾽ 
+
+
+ἡμῖν γενέσθω ἀντ᾽ αὐτῶν πεντήκοντα τάλαντα 
+25 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 27-29 
+
+
+slay whomsoever they should see not whitened. 
+The Thessalian sentinels were the first to see these 
+men and to flee for fear, supposing falsely that it 
+was something beyond nature, and next after the 
+sentinels the whole army fled likewise ; insomuch 
+that the Phocians made themselves masters of four 
+thousand dead, and their shields, whereof they 
+dedicated half at Abae and the rest at Delphi; a 
+tithe of what they won in that fight went to the 
+making of the great statues that stand round the 
+tripod before the shrine at Delphi, and there are 
+others like them dedicated at Abae. 
+
+28. Thus had the beleaguered Phocians dealt with 
+the Thessalian foot; and when the Thessalian horse- 
+men rode into their country the Phocians did them 
+mortal harm; they dug a great pit in the pass near 
+Hyampolis and put empty jars therein, covering 
+which with earth, till all was like the rest of the 
+ground, they awaited the onset of the Thessalians. 
+These rode on thinking to sweep the Phocians before 
+them, and fell in among the jars; whereby their 
+horses' legs were broken. 
+
+29. These two deeds had never been forgiven by 
+the Thessalians ; and now they sent a herald with 
+this message: ** Men of Phocis, it is time now that 
+you confess yourselves to be no match for us. 
+We were ever formerly preferred before you by the 
+Greeks, as long as we were on their side; and now 
+we are of such weight with the foreigner that it lies 
+in our power to have you deprived of your lands, 
+ay, and yourselves enslaved withal. Nevertheless, 
+though all rests with us, we bear you no ill-will for 
+the past; pay us fifty talents of silver for what you 
+
+
+29 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἀργυρίου, καὶ ὑμῖν ὑποδεκόμεθα τὰ ἐπιόντα ἐπὶ 
+τὴν χώρην ἀποτρέψειν.” 
+
+30. Ταῦτά σφι ἐπαγγέλλοντο οἱ Θεσσαλοί. οἱ 
+γὰρ Φωκέες μοῦνοι τῶν ταύτῃ. ἀνθρώπων οὐκ 
+ἐμήδιξον, κατ᾽ ἄλλο μὲν οὐδέν, ὡς ἐγὼ συμβαλ.- 
+λόμενος εὑρίσκω, κατὰ δὲ τὸ ἔχθος τὸ Θεσσαλῶν: 
+εἰ δὲ Θεσσαλοὶ τὰ ᾿Ελλήνων ηὖξον, ὡς ἐμοὶ ĝo- 
+κέειν, ἐμήδιζον ἂν οἱ Φωκέες. ταῦτα ἐπαγγελ- 
+λομένων Θεσσαλῶν, οὔτε δώσειν ἔφασαν χρήματα, 
+παρέχειν Τε σφίσι Θεσσαλοῖσι ὁμοίως μηδίξειν, 
+ei ἄλλως βουλοίατο" ἀλλ᾽ οὐκ ἔσεσθαι ἑκόντες 
+εἶναι προδόται τῆς [υλλάδος. 
+
+31. ᾿Επειδὴ δὲ ἀνηνείχθησαν οὗτοι οἱ λόγοι, 
+οὕτω δὴ οἱ Θεσσαλοὶ κεχολωμένοι τοῖσι Φωκεῦσι 
+ἐγένοντο ἡγεμόνες τῷ βαρβάρῳ τῆς ὁδοῦ. ἐκ μὲν 
+δὴ τῆς Έρηχινίης ἐς τὴν Δωρίδα -ἐσέβαλον" τῆς 
+yàp Δωρίδος χώρης ποδεὼν στεινὸς ταύτῃ κατα- 
+τείνει, ὡς τριήκοντα σταδίων μάλιστά KN εὖρος, 
+κείμενος. μεταξὺ τῆς τε Μηλίδος καὶ Φωκίδος 
+χώρης, ἥ περ ἦν τὸ παλαιὸν Δρυοπίς' ἡ δὲ χώρη 
+αὕτη ἐστὶ μητρόπολις Δωριέων τῶν ἐν Iero- 
+ποννήσῳ. ταύτην ὦ ὧν τὴν Δωρίδα γῆν οὐκ ἐσίναντο 
+ἐσβαλόντες οἱ βάρβαροι ἐμήδιζόν τε γὰρ καὶ οὐκ 
+ἐδόκεε Θεσσαλοῖσι. 
+
+Spe Ὡς δὲ ἐκ τῆς Δωρίδος ἐς τὴν Φωκίδα ἐσέ- 
+βαλον, αὐτοὺς μὲν τοὺς Φωκέας οὐκ αἱρέουσι. 
+οἳ μὲν γὰρ τῶν Φωκέων ἐς τὰ ἄκρα τοῦ Παρνησοῦ 
+ἀνέβησαν. ἔστι δὲ καὶ ἐπιτηδέη δέξασθαι ὅμιλον 
+τοῦ Παρνησοῦ ἡ κορυφή, κατὰ Νέωνα πόλιν 
+κειμένη ἐπ᾽ ἑωυτῆς: Τιθορέα οὔνομα αὐτῆ: ἐς τὴν 
+δὴ ἀνηνείκαντο καὶ αὐτοὶ ἀνέβησαν. οἳ δὲ πλεῦνες 
+αὐτῶν ἐς τοὺς Ὀξόύλας Λοκροὺς ἐξεκομίσαντο, ἐς 
+30 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 29-32 
+
+
+did, and we promise to turn aside what threatens 
+your land." 
+
+30. This was the Thessalians' offer. The Phocians, 
+and they alone of all that region, would not take the 
+Persians’ part, and that for no other reason (if I 
+argue aright) than their hatred of the Thessalians ; 
+had the Thessalians aided the Greek side, then 
+methinks the Phocians would have stood for the 
+Persians. They replied to the offer of the Thes- 
+salians that they would give no money; that they 
+could do like the Thessalians and take the Persian 
+part, if for any cause they so wished, but they would 
+not willingly betray the cause of Hellas. 
+
+31. This answer being returned to them, thereat 
+the Thessalians in their wrath against the Phocians 
+began to guide the foreigner on his way. From the 
+lands of Trachis they broke into Doris; for there is 
+a narrow tongue of Dorian land stretching that way, 
+about thirty furlongs wide, between the Malian 
+territory and the Phocian, which in old time was 
+Dryopian; this region is the motherland of the 
+Dorians of the Peloponnese. To this Dorian territory 
+the foreigners did no harm at their invasion; for 
+the people took the Persian part, and the Thessalians 
+would not have them harmed. 
+
+32. When they entered Phocis from Doris, the 
+Phocians themselves they could not catch ; for some 
+of the Phocians ascended to the heights of Parnassus; 
+and the peak of Parnassus called Tithorea, which 
+rises by itself near the town Neon, has room enough 
+for a multitude of people; thither they carried up 
+their goods and themselves ascended to it, but the 
+most of them made their way out of the country to 
+
+
+31 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+5 / \ e M ^ 72 z » 
+ΆΑμφισσαν πόλιν τὴν ὑπὲρ τοῦ Κρισαίου πεδίου 
+οἰκημένην. οἱ δὲ βάρβαροι τὴν χώρην πᾶσαν 
+ἐπέδραμον τὴν. Φωκίδα: Θεσσαλοὶ γὰρ οὕτω ἦγον 
+τὸν στρατόν" ὁκόσα δὲ ἐπέσχον, πάντα ἐπέφλεγον 
+καὶ ἔκειρον, καὶ ἐς τὰς πόλις ἐνιέντες πῦρ καὶ ἐς 
+τὰ ἱρά. 
+
+33. 1]ορευόμενοι γὰρ ταύτῃ παρὰ τὸν Κηφισὸν 
+ποταμὸν ἐδηίουν πάντα, καὶ κατὰ μὲν ἔκαυσαν 
+Δρυμὸν πόλιν κατὰ δὲ Xapadpav καὶ "ἱὕρωχον 
+
+κ LG ΄ M , 7 \ me^ N 
+καὶ Ρεθρώνιον καὶ Aupicairav καὶ Νέωνα καὶ 
+Πεδιέας καὶ Πριτέας καὶ Ελάτειαν καὶ Ὑάμπολιν 
+
+ν ο.” ” > εν 
+καὶ Ἱαραποταμίους καὶ "ABas, ἔνθα ἦν ἱρὸν 
+, / if ^ 7 N 3 
+Απόλλωνος πλούσιον, θησαυροῖσί τε καὶ ava- 
+θήµμασι πολλοῖσι κατεσκευασμένον: ἣν δὲ καὶ 
+τότε καὶ νῦν ἔτι χρηστήριον αὐτόθι. καὶ τοῦτο 
+τὸ ἱρὸν συλήσαντες ἐνέπρησαν. καί τινας διώ- 
+κοντες εἶλον τῶν Φωκέων πρὸς τοῖσι ὄρεσι, καὶ 
+γυναῖκας τινὰς διέφθειραν μισγόμενοι ὑπὸ 
+πλήθεος. 
+
+34. Παραποταμίους δὲ παραμειβύµενοι οἱ Bap- 
+βαροι ἀπίκοντο ἐς Πανοπέας. ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ ἤδη 
+διακρινομένη ἡ στρατιὴ αὐτῶν ἐσχίξετο. τὸ μὲν 
+πλεῖστον καὶ δυνατώτατον τοῦ στρατοῦ. ἅμα 
+αὐτῷ Ξέρξη πορευόµενον én ᾿Αθήνας ἐσέβαλε 
+ἐς Βοιωτούς, ἐς γῆν τὴν Ὀρχομενίων. Βοιωτῶν 
+δὲ πᾶν τὸ πλῆθος ἐμήδιζε, τὰς δὲ πόλις αὐτῶν 
+» , 7 y e x 
+ἄνδρες Μακεδόνες διατεταγμένοι ἔσωζον, ὑπὸ 
+
+y A A 
+᾿Αλεξάνδρου. ἀποπεμφθέντες" ἔσωξον δὲ τῆδε, 
+δῆλον βουλόμενοι ποιέειν Ξέρξη ὅτι τὰ Μήδων 
+Βοιωτοὶ Φρονέοιεν. 
+
+35. Οὗτοι μὲν δὴ τῶν βαρβάρων ταύτῃ ἐτρά- 
+ποντο, ἄλλοι δὲ αὐτῶν ἡγεμόνας ἔχοντες ὁρμέατο 
+
+
+32 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 32-35 
+
+
+the Ozolian Locrians, where is the town of Amphissa 
+above the Crisaean plain. The foreigners overran 
+the whole of Phocis, the Thessalians so guiding their 
+army; and all that came within their power they 
+burnt and wasted, setting fire to towns and temples. 
+
+33. Marching this way down the river Cephisus 
+they ravaged all before them, burning the towns of 
+Drymus, Charadra, Erochus, Tethronium, Amphi- 
+caea, Neon, Pediea, Tritea, Elatea, Hyampolis, 
+Parapotamii, and Abae, where was a richly endowed 
+temple of Apollo, provided with wealth of treasure 
+and offerings; and there was then as now a place of 
+divination there. This temple, too, they plundered 
+and burnt; and they pursued and caught some of 
+the Phocians near the mountains, and did certain 
+women to death by the multitude of their violators. 
+
+34. Passing Parapotamii the foreigners came to 
+Panopea; and there their army pirted asunder into 
+two companies. The greater and stronger part of 
+the host marched with Xerxes himself towards 
+Athens and broke into the territory of Orchomenus 
+in Boeotia. Now the whole people of Boeotia took 
+the Persian part, and men of Macedonia sent by 
+Alexander safeguarded their towns, each in his 
+appointed place; the reason of the safeguarding 
+being, that Xerxes might understand the Boeotians 
+to be on the Persian side. 
+
+35. So this part of the foreign army marched as 
+aforesaid, and others set forth with guides for the 
+
+
+33 
+
+
+VOL. IV. C 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐπὶ τὸ ἱρὸν τὸ ἐν Δελφοῖσι, ἐν δεξιῇ τὸν Ἠαρνησὸν 
+ἀπέργοντε.. ὅσα δὲ καὶ οὗτοι ἐπέσχον τῆς 
+Φωκίδος, πάντα ἐσιναμώρεον' καὶ γὰρ τῶν Havo- 
+πέων τὴν πόλιν ἐνέπρησαν καὶ Δαυλίων καὶ 
+Δἰολιδέων. ἐπορεύοντο δὲ ταύτῃ ἀποσχισθέντες 
+τῆς ἄλλης στρατιῆς τῶνδε εἵνεκα, ὅκως συλήσαντες 
+τὸ ἱρὸν. τὸ ἐν Δελφοῖσι βασιλέι Ξέρξῃ ἀποδέξαιεν 
+τὰ χρήματα. πάντα Ó ἠπίστατο τὰ ἐν τῷ ἱρῷ 
+ὅσα λόγου ἦν ἄξια Ξέρξης, ὡς ἐγὼ πυνθάνομαι, 
+ἄμεινον 7) τὰ ἐν τοῖσι οἰκίοισι ἔλιπε, πολλῶν 
+αἰεὶ λεγόντων, καὶ μάλιστα τὰ Κροίσου τοῦ 
+᾽Αλυάττεω ἀναθήματα. 
+
+36. Οἱ Δελφοὶ δὲ πυνθανοµενοι ταῦτα ἐς πᾶσαν 
+ἀρρωδίην ἀπίκατο, ἐν δείματι δὲ μεγάλῳ κατε- 
+στεῶτες ἐμαντεύοντο περὶ τῶν ἱρῶν χρημάτων, 
+εἴτε σφέα κατὰ γῆς κατορύξωσι εἴτε ἐκκομίσωσι 
+ἐς ἄλλην χώρην. ὁ δὲ θεός σφεας οὐκ ἔα κινέειν, 
+φὰς αὐτὸς ἱκανὸς εἶναι τῶν ἑωυτοῦ προκατῆσθαι. 
+Δελφοὶ δὲ ταῦτα ἀκούσαντες σφέων αὐτῶν πέρι 
+ἐφρόντιζον. τέκνα μέν νυν καὶ γυναῖκας πέρην 
+ἐς τὴν ᾿Αχαιίην διέπεµψαν, αὐτῶν δὲ οἱ μὲν 
+πλεῖστοι. ἀνέβησαν ἐ ἐς τοῦ Παρνησοῦ τὰς κορυφὰς 
+καὶ ἐς τὸ Κωρύκιον ἄντρον ἀνηνείκαντο, οἳ δὲ ἐς 
+Ἄμφισσαν τὴν Λοκρίδα ὑπεξῆλόον. πάντες δὲ 
+ὧν οἱ Δελφοὶ ἐξέλιπον τὴν πὀλιν, πλὴν ἑξήκοντα 
+ἀνδρῶν καὶ τοῦ προφήτεω. 
+
+37. ᾿Επεὶ δὲ ἀγχοῦ ἦσαν οἱ βάρβαροι ἐπιόντες 
+καὶ ἀπώρων τὸ ἱρόν, ἐν τούτῳ ὁ προφήτης, τῷ 
+οὔνομα ἣν ᾿Ακήρατος, ὁρᾷ πρὸ τοῦ νηοῦ ὅπλα 
+προκείµενα ἔσωθεν ἐκ τοῦ μεγάρου ἐξενηνειγμένα 
+ἱρά, τῶν οὐκ ὅσιον ἦν ἅπτεσθαι ἀνθρώπων οὐδενί. 
+
+
+34 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 55-37 
+
+
+teinple at Delphi, keeping Parnassus on their right. 
+These, too, laid waste whatsoever part of Phocis 
+they occupied, burning the towns of the Panopeans 
+and Daulii and Aeolidae. The purpose of their 
+parting from the rest of the army and marching this 
+way was, that they might plunder the temple at 
+Delphi and lay its wealth before Xerxes; who (as 
+I have been told) knew of all the most notable 
+possessions in the temple better than of what he 
+had left in his own palace, and chiefly the offerings 
+of Croesus son of Alyattes ; so many had ever spoken 
+of them. 
+
+36. When the Delphians learnt all this they were 
+sore afraid ; and in their great fear they inquired of 
+the oracle whether they should bury the sacred 
+treasure in the ground or convey it away to another 
+country. But the god bade them move nothing, 
+saying that he was able to protect his own. On 
+that hearing, the Delphians took thought for 
+themselves. They sent their children and women 
+oversea to Achaia; of the men, the most went up 
+to the peaks of Parnassus and carried their goods 
+into the Corycian cave,! and some escaped to Am- 
+phissa in Locris; in brief, all the Delphians left the 
+town save sixty men and the prophet. 
+
+37. Now when the foreigners drew nigh in their 
+coming and could see the temple, the prophet, whose 
+name was Aceratus, saw certain sacred arms, that no 
+man might touch without sacrilege, brought out of 
+the chamber within and laid before the shrine. So 
+
+
+1 In the heights above Delphi and some three hours 
+distant from it, adjacent to Parnassus. The cave is ‘‘some 
+200 feet long, 90 feet broad at the widest point, and 20 to 
+40 feet high ” (How and Wells). 
+
+
+35 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Ὁ) μὲν δὴ ἤιε Δελφῶν τοῖσι παρεοῦσι σημανέων τὸ 
+τέρας᾽ οἱ δὲ βάρβαροι ἐπειδὴ ἐ ἐγίνοντο ἐπειγόμενοι 
+κατὰ τὸ ἱρὸν τῆς Προναίης ᾿Αθηναίης, € ἐπιγίνεταί 
+σφι τέρεα ἔτι µέζονα τοῦ πρὶν γενομένου τέρεος. 
+θῶμα μὲν γὰρ καὶ τοῦτο κάρτα ἐστί, ὅπλα ἀρήια 
+αὐτόματα φανῆναι ἔξω προκείμενα. τοῦ νηοῦ τὰ 
+δὲ δὴ ἐπὶ τούτῳ δεύτερα ἐπιγενόμενα καὶ διὰ 
+πάντων φασμάτων ἄξια θωμάσαι μάλιστα. ἐπεὶ 
+γὰρ δὴ ἦσαν ἐπιόντες οἱ βάρβαροι κατὰ τὸ ἱρὸν 
+τῆς Προναίης ᾿Αθηναίης, ev τούτῳ ἐκ μὲν τοῦ 
+οὐρανοῦ κεραυνοὶ αὐτοῖσι ἐνέπιπτον, ἀπὸ δὲ τοῦ 
+Παρνησοῦ ἀπορραγεῖσαι δύο κορυφαὶ ἐφέροντο 
+πολλῶ πατάγῳ ἐς αὐτοὺς καὶ κατέβαλον συχνούς 
+σφεων, ἐκ δὲ τοῦ ἱροῦ τῆς Προναίης Bon τε καὶ 
+ἀλαλαγμὸς ἐγίνετο. 
+
+38, Συμμιγέντων. δὲ τούτων πάντων, φόβος 
+τοῖσι Βαρβάροισι ἐνεπεπτώκεε. μαθόντες δὲ οἱ 
+Δελφοὶ φεύγοντας σφέας, τ a ἀπέ- 
+κτειναν πλῆθος τι αὐτῶν. i δὲ περιεόντες ἰθὺ 
+Βοιωτῶν ἔφευγον. ἔλεγον δὲ οἱ ἀπονοστήσαντες 
+οὗτοι τῶν βαρβάρων, ὡς ἐγὼ πυνθάνομαι, ὡς 
+
+πρὸς τούτοισι καὶ ἄλλα ὥρων θεῖα: δύο γὰρ 
+ὁπλίτας μέζονας ἢ η KAT ἀνθρώπων φύσιν ἔχοντας 
+ἔπεσθαί σφι κτείνοντας καὶ διώκοντας. 
+
+39. Tourous δὲ τοὺς δύο Δελφοὶ λέγουσι εἶναι 
+ἐπιχωρίους ἥρωας, | Φύλακόν τε καὶ Αὐτόνοον, 
+τῶν τὰ .τεμένεα ἐστὶ περὶ τὸ ἱρὸν, Φυλάκου μὲν 
+παρ αὐτὴν τὴν ὁδὸν κατύπερθε τοῦ ἱροῦ τῆς 
+Προναίης, Αὐτονόου δὲ πέλας τῆς Κασταλίης 
+ὑπὸ τῇ Υαμπείῃ κορυφῇ. οἱ δὲ πεσόντες ἀπὸ 
+τοῦ Παρνησοῦ λίθοι ἔτι καὶ ἐς ἡμέας ἦσαν σόοι, 
+
+
+36 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 17-19 
+
+
+he went to tell the Delphians of this miracle; but 
+when the foreigners came with all speed near to the 
+temple of Athene Pronaea, they were visited by 
+miracles yet greater than the aforesaid. Marvellous 
+indeed it is, that weapons of war should of their own 
+motion appear lying outside before the shrine; but 
+the visitation which followed upon that was more 
+wondrous than aught else ever seen. For when the 
+foreigners were near in their coming to the temple 
+of Athene Pronaea, there were they smitten by 
+thunderbolts from heaven, and two peaks brake off 
+from Parnassus and came rushing among them with 
+a mighty noise and overwhelmed many of them; 
+and from the temple of Athene there was heard a 
+shout and a cry of triumph. 
+
+38. All this joining together struck panic into 
+the foreigners; and the Delphians, perceiving that 
+they fled, descended upon them and slew a great 
+number. The survivors fled straight to Boeotia. 
+Those of the foreigners who returned said (as I 
+have been told) that they had seen other signs of 
+heaven's working besides the aforesaid: two men- 
+at-arms of stature greater than human (they said) 
+had followed hard after them, slaying and pursuing. 
+
+39. These two, say the Delphians, were the native 
+heroes Phylacus and Autonous, whose precincts are 
+near the temple, Phylacus’ by the road itself above 
+the shrine of Athene Pronaea, and Autonous’ near 
+the Castalian spring, under the Hyampean peak. 
+The rocks that fell! from Parnassus were yet to be 
+
+
+1**Among the olives in the glen below” the remains 
+of the temple of Athene Pronaea ‘‘ are some large masses 
+of reddish-grey rock, which might be those said to have 
+come hurtling from the cliffs above" (How and Wells). 
+
+
+37 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐν τῷ τεμένεϊ τῆς Προναίης ᾿Αθηναίης κείμενοι, 
+ἐς τὸ ἐνέσκηψαν διὰ τῶν βαρβάρων «φερόµενοι. 
+τούτων μέν νυν τῶν ἀνδρῶν αὕτη ἀπὸ τοῦ ἱροῦ 
+ἀπαλλαγὴ γίνεται. 
+
+40. Ὁ δὲ Ἑλλήνων ναυτικὸς P ἀπὸ τοῦ 
+᾿Αρτεμισίου ᾿Αθηναίων δεηθέντων ἐς Σαλαμῖνα 
+κατίσχει τὰς νέας. τῶνδε δὲ εἴνεκα προσεδεήθησαν 
+αὐτῶν σχεῖν πρὸς Σαλαμῖνα ᾿Αθηναῖοι, ἵνα αὐτοὶ 
+παῖδάς τε καὶ γυναῖκας ὑπεξαγάγωνται ἐκ τῆς 
+᾿Αττικῆς, πρὸς δὲ καὶ βουλεύσωνται τὸ ποιητέον 
+αὐτοῖσι ἔσται. ἐπὶ γὰρ τοῖσι κατήκουσι πρήγ- 
+μασι βουλὴν ἔμελλον ποιήσασθαι ὡς ἐψευσμένοι 
+γνώμης. δοκέοντες γὰρ εὑρήσειν Πελοποννησίους 
+πανδημεὶ ἐν τῇ Βοιωτίῃ ὑποκατημένους τὸν βάρ- 
+Bapov, τῶν μὲν εὗρον οὐδὲν éóv, of δὲ ἐπυνθάνοντο 
+τὸν ᾿Ισθμὸν αὐτοὺς τειχέοντας, ὡς τὴν Iero- 
+πόννησον περὶ πλείστου τε ποιευμένους περιεῖναι 
+καὶ ταύτην ἔχοντας ἐν φυλακῇ, τὰ ἄλλα δὲ ἀπι- 
+έναι. ταῦτα πυνθανόμενοι οὕτω δὴ προσεδεήθησαν 
+σφέων σχεῖν πρὸς τὴν Σαλαμῖνα. 
+
+41. Οἱ μὲν δὴ ἄλλοι κατέσχον ἐς τὴν Σαλαμῖνα, 
+᾿Αθηναῖοι δὲ ἐ és τὴν ἑωυτῶν. μετὰ δὲ τὴν ἄπιξιν 
+κήρυγμα ἐποιήσαντο, ᾿Αθηναίων τῇ τις δύναται 
+σώξειν τέκνα τε καὶ τοὺς οἰκέτας. ἐνθαῦτα οἱ 
+μὲν πλεῖστοι ἐς Τροίζήνα ἀπέστειλαν, oi δὲ ἐς 
+Αἴγιναν, οἳ δὲ ἐς Σαλαμῖνα. ἔσπευσαν δὲ ταῦτα 
+ὑπεκθέσθαι τῷ χρηστηρίῳ τε Βουλόμενοι ὑπηρε- 
+τέειν καὶ δὴ καὶ τοῦδε εἵνεκα οὐκ ἥκιστα. λέγουσι 
+᾿Αθηναῖοι ὄφιν μέγαν φύλακα τῆς ἀκροπόλιος 
+ἐνδιαιτᾶσθαι ἐν τῷ ἑρῷ: λέγουσί τε ταῦτα καὶ 
+δὴ ὡς ἐόντι ἐπιμήνια ἐπιτελέουσι προτιθέντες: 
+τὰ δ᾽ ἐπιμήνια μελιτόεσσα ἐστί. αὕτη δὴ ἡ 
+
+
+38 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 39-41 
+
+
+seen in my day, lying in the precinct of Athene 
+Pronaea, whither their descent through the for- 
+eigners' ranks had hurled them. Such, then, was 
+the manner of those men's departure from the 
+temple. 
+
+40. The Greek fleet, after it had left Artemisium 
+came by the Athenians' entreaty to land at Salamis ; 
+the reason why the Athenians entreated them to put 
+in there being, that they themselves might convey 
+their children and women safe out of Attica, and 
+moreover take counsel as to what they should do. 
+For inasmuch as the present turn of affairs had 
+disappointed their judgment they were now to hold 
+a council; they had thought to find the whole 
+Peloponnesian force awaiting the foreigners' attack 
+in Boeotia, but now of that they found no whit, 
+but learnt contrariwise that the Peloponnesians were 
+fortifying the Isthmus, and letting all else go, as 
+deeming the defence of the Peloponnese to be of 
+greatest moment. Learning this, they therefore 
+entreated the fleet to put in at Salamis. 
+
+41. Sotherest made sail thither, and the Athenians 
+to their own country. Being there arrived they made 
+a proclamation that every Athenian should save his 
+children and servants as he best could. Thereat 
+most of them sent their households to Troezen, and 
+some to Aegina and Salamis. They made haste to 
+convey all out of harm because they desired to be 
+guided by the oracle, and for another reason, too, 
+which was this: it is said by the Athenians that 
+a great snake lives in their temple, to guard the 
+acropolis; in proof whereof they do ever duly set 
+out a honey-cake as a monthly offering for it; this 
+
+
+39 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+µελιτόεσσα ἐν τῷ πρόσθε αἰεὶ χρόνῳ ἄναισιμου- 
+μένη τότε ἣν ἄψαυστος. σήμηνασης δὲ ταῦτα 
+τῆς ἱρείης, μᾶλλον τι οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι καὶ προθυ- 
+μότερον ἐξέλιπον τὴν πόλιν, ὡς καὶ τῆς θεοῦ 
+ἀπολελοιπυίης τὴν ἀκρόπολιν. ὡς δέ σφι πάντα 
+ὑπεξέκειτο, ἔπλεον ἐς τὸ στρατόπεδον. 
+
+42. ᾿Επεὶ δὲ οἱ aT ᾿Ἀρτεμισίου ἐς Σαλαμῖνα 
+κατέσχον. τὰς νέας, συνέρρεε καὶ ὁ λοιπὺς π πυνθα- 
+νόµενος ὁ τῶν Ἑλλήνων ναυτικὸς στρατὸς ἐκ 
+Τροίζηνος" ἐς γὰρ Πώγωνα τὸν Τροιζηνίων λιμένα 
+προείρητο συλλέγεσθαι. συνελέχθησάν τε δὴ 
+πολλῷ πλεῦνες νέες ἢ ἐπ᾽ ᾿Αρτεμισίῳ ἐναυμάχεον 
+καὶ ἀπὸ πολίων πλεύνων. ναύαρχος μέν νυν 
+ἐπῆν ὡυτὸς ὃς περ ἐπ᾿ ᾿Αρτεμισίῳ, Βὐρυβιάδης 
+ὁ Εὐρυκλείδεω ἀνὴρ Σπαρτιήτης, οὐ μέντοι γένεος 
+τοῦ βασιληίου ἐών: νέας δὲ πολλῷ πλείστας τε 
+καὶ ἄριστα πλεούσας παρείχοντο ᾿Αθηναῖοι. 
+
+48. ᾿Εστρατεύοντο δὲ olde: ἐκ μὲν Πελοπον- 
+νήσου Λακεδαιμόνιοι. ἑκκαίδεκα νέας παρεχόμενοι, 
+Κορίνθιοι δὲ τὸ αὐτὸ πλήρωμα παρεχόμενοι καὶ 
+ἐπ᾿ ᾿Αρτεμισίῳ' Σικυώνιοι δὲ πεντεκαίδεκα παρεί- 
+χοντο νέας, ᾿Επιδαύριοι δὲ δέκα, Τροιξήνιοι δὲ 
+πέντε, Ἑρμιονέες δὲ τρεῖς, ἐόντες οὗτοι πλὴν 
+Ἑρμιονέων Δωρικὸν τε καὶ Μακεδνὸν ἔθνος, ἐξ 
+᾿Ερινεοῦ τε καὶ Alivóov καὶ τῆς Δρυοπίδος i ἕστατα 
+ὁρμηθέντες. οἱ δὲ Ἑρμιονέες εἰσὶ Δρύοπες, ὑπὸ 
+Ἡρακλέος τε καὶ Μηλιέων ἐκ τῆς νῦν Δωρίδος 
+καλεομένης χώρης ἐξαναστάντες. 
+
+44. Οὗτοι μέν νυν Πελοποι νησίων ἐστρατεύ- 
+οντο, oí δὲ ἐκ τῆς ἔξω ἠπείρου, ᾿Αθηναῖοι μὲν 
+πρὸς πάντας τοὺς ἄλλους παρεχόμενοι νέας ὀγδώ- 
+κοντα καὶ ἑκατὸν, μοῦνοι: ἐν Σαλαμῖνι γὰρ οὐ 
+40 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 41-44 
+
+
+cake had ever before been consumed, but was now 
+left untouched. When the priestess made that 
+known, the Athenians were the readier to leave 
+their city, deeming their goddess, too, to have de- 
+serted the acropolis. When they had conveyed all 
+away, they returned to the fleet. 
+
+42. When the Greeks from Artemisium had put 
+in at Salamis, the rest of their fleet also heard of it 
+and gathered in from Troezen, the port of which, 
+Pogon, had been named for their place of mustering ; 
+and the ships that mustered there were more by far 
+than had fought at Artemisium, and came from more 
+cities. Their admiral-in-chief was the same as at 
+Artemisium, Eurybiades son of Euryclides, a Spar- 
+tan, yet not of the royal blood; but it was the 
+Athenians who furnished by far the most and the 
+sea-worthiest ships. 
+
+43. The Peloponnesians that were with the fleet 
+were, firstly, the Lacedaemonians, with sixteen 
+ships, and the Corinthians with the same number of 
+ships as at Artemisium ; the Sicyonians furnished 
+fifteen, the Epidaurians ten, the Troezenians five, 
+the people of Hermione three; all these, except 
+the people of Hermione, were of Dorian and Mace- 
+donian stock, and had last come from Erineus and 
+Pindus and the Dryopian region. The people of 
+Hermione are Dryopians, driven by Heracles and 
+the Malians from the country now called Doris, 
+
+44. These were the Peloponnesians in the fleet. 
+Of those that came from the mainland outside the 
+Peloponnese, the Athenians furnished more ships 
+than any of the rest, namely, a hundred and eighty, 
+of their own sending; for the Plataeans did not 
+
+
+41 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+συνεναυμάχησαν Ἱ]λαταιέες ᾿Αθηναίοισι διὰ τοι- 
+όνδε τι πρῆγμα' ἀπαλλασσομένων τῶν Ἑλλήνων 
+3 b ^ } ’ ε 3 / ` / 
+ἀπὸ τοῦ Αρτεμισίου, ὡς ἐγίνοντο κατὰ Χαλκίδα, 
+e ^ 
+οἱ Πλαταιέες ἀποβάντες ἐς τὴν περαίην τῆς 
+Βοιωτίης χώρης πρὸς ἐκκομιδὴν ἐτράποντο τῶν 
+> / ΩΙ ΄ 
+οἰκετέων. οὗτοι μέν νυν τούτους σώξοντες ἐλεί- 
+8 ' A0 ^ δὲ 3 EN N II ^ , , 
+φθησαν. vato, ÒE ἐπὶ μεν ΙΙελασγῶὼν ἐχόντων 
+\ ^ € / / ^5 / 
+τὴν νῦν Ἱλλάδα καλεομένην ἦσαν Πελασγοί, 
+ὀνομαξόμενοι Kpavaot, ἐπὶ δὲ Κέκροπος βασιλέος 
+ἐκλήθησαν Κεκροπίδαι, ἐκδεξαμένου δὲ Ἠρεχθέος 
+τὴν ἀρχὴν ᾿Αθηναῖοι μετωνομάσθησαν, "Ἴωνος δὲ 
+τοῦ Ξούθου στρατάρχεω γενομένου ᾿Αθηναίοισι 
+ἐκλήθησαν ἀπὸ τούτου "loves. 
+’ \ , N ’ ’ 
+45. Μεγαρέες δὲ τὠυτὸ πλήρωμα παρείχοντο 
+. 3 3 9 4 , "^ . ε . / 
+καὶ ἐπ᾿ ᾿Αρτεμισίῳ, ᾿Αμπρακιῶται δὲ ἑπτὰ νέας 
+5 3 160 LO δὲ ^ :0 
+ἔχοντες ἐπεβοήθησαν, Λευκάδιοι δὲ τρεῖς, ἔθνος 
+ἐόντες οὗτοι Δωρικὸν ἀπὸ Κορίνθου. 
+46. Νησιωτέων δὲ Αἰγινῆται τριήκοντα παρεί- 
+9 / N » / 
+χοντο. ήσαν μὲν σφι καὶ ἄλλαι πεπληρωμέναι 
+/ , M ^ \ N e ^ 3 / 
+νέες, ἀλλὰ τῆσι μὲν τὴν ἐωυτῶν ἐφύλασσον, 
+τριήκοντα δὲ τῇσι ἄριστα πλεούσησι ἐν Σαλαμῖνι 
+ἐναυμάχησαν. Αἰγινῆται δὲ εἰσὶ Δωριέες ἀπὸ 
+᾿Επιδαύρου' τῇ δὲ νήσῳ πρότερον οὔνομα ἣν 
+3 
+Οἰνώνη. μετὰ δὲ Αἰγινήτας Χαλκιδέες τὰς ἐπ 
+, / 7 / \ 3 ΄ \ 
+Αρτεμισίῳ εἴκοσι παρεχόμενοι καὶ ᾿Ερετριέες τὰς 
+ε ΄ ? « 3? 7 \ \ / \ 
+ἑπτά": οὗτοι δὲ Ἴωνες εἰσί. μετὰ δὲ Ιζήιοι τὰς 
+αὐτὰς παρεχόμενοι, ἔθνος ἐὸν ᾿Ἰωνικὸν ἀπὸ 
+3 0 /, T ΄ δὲ la / 2 
+Αθηνέων. Νάξιοι δὲ παρείχοντο τέσσερας, ἄπο- 
+/ N 3 \ 7 e N ^ 
+πεμφθέντες μὲν ἐς τοὺς Μήδους ὑπὸ τῶν mon- 
+
+
+42 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 44-46 
+
+
+fight beside the Athenians at Salamis, whereof the 
+reason was that when the Greeks sailed from Arte- 
+misium, and had arrived off Chalcis, the Plataeans 
+landed on the opposite Boeotian shore and set about 
+conveying their households away. So they were 
+left behind bringing these to safety. The Athenians, 
+while the Pelasgians ruled what is now called Hellas, 
+were Pelasgians, bearing the name of Cranai!; in 
+the time of their king Cecrops they came to be 
+called Cecropidae, and when the kingship fell to 
+Erechtheus they changed their name and became 
+Athenians, but when Ion son of Xuthus was made 
+leader of their armies they were called after him 
+Ionians. 
+
+45. The Megarians furnished the same complement 
+as at Artemisium ; the Ampraciots brought seven 
+ships to the fleet, and the Leucadians (who are of 
+Dorian stock from Corinth) brought three. 
+
+46. Of the islanders, the Aeginetans furnished 
+thirty. They had other ships, too, manned; but 
+they used them to guard their own coasts, and 
+fought at Salamis with the thirty that were most 
+seaworthy. The Aeginetans are Dorians from Epi- 
+daurus; their island was formerly called Oenone. 
+After the Aeginetans came the Chalcidians with 
+the twenty, and the Eretrians with the seven which 
+had fought at Artemisium; they are Ionians; and 
+next the Ceans, furnishing the same ships as before ; 
+they are of Ionian stock, from Athens. The Naxians 
+furnished four ships; they had been sent by their 
+townsmen to the Persians, like the rest of the 
+
+
+1 That is, probably, ‘‘dwellers on the heights." All 
+pre-Dorian inhabitants of Hellas are ‘‘Pelasgian” to 
+Herodotus. 
+
+
+43 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τέων κατά περ οἱ ἄλλοι νησιῶται, ἀλογήσαντες 
+δὲ τῶν ἐντολέων ἀπίκατο ἐς τοὺς "EXXqgvas 
+Δημοκρίτου σπεύσαντος, ἀνδρὸς τῶν ἀστῶν δοκί- 
+μου καὶ τότε τριηραρχέοντος. Νάξιοι δὲ εἰσὶ 
+Ἴωνες ἀπὸ ᾿Αθηνέων γεγονότες. Στυρέες δὲ τὰς 
+αὐτὰς παρείχοντο νέας τάς περ ἐπ ᾿Αρτεμισίῳω, 
+Κύθνιοι δὲ μίαν καὶ πεντηκόντερον, ἐόντες συναμ- 
+φότεροι οὗτοι Δρύοπες. καὶ Σερίφιοί τε καὶ 
+Σίφνιοι καὶ Μήλιοι ἐστρατεύοντο’ οὗτοι γὰρ οὐκ 
+ἔδοσαν μοῦνοι νησιωτέων τῷ βαρβάρῳ γῆν τε καὶ 
+ὕδωρ. 
+
+41. Οὗτοι μὲν ἅπαντες ἐντὸς οἰκημένοι Θεσ- 
+πρωτῶν καὶ ᾿Αχέροντος ποταμοῦ ἐστρατεύοντο" 
+Θεσπρωτοὶ γὰρ εἰσὶ ὁμουρέοντες ᾿Αμιερακιώτῃσι 
+καὶ Λευκαδίοισι, οἳ εξ ἐσχατέων χωρέων ἐστρι- 
+τεύοντο. τῶν δὲ ἐκτὸς τούτων οἰκημένων Κρο- 
+τωνιῆται μοῦνοι ἦσαν ot ἐβοήθησαν τῇ Ελλάδι 
+κινδυνευούσῃ μιῇ νηί, τῆς ἧρχε ἀνὴρ Tois πυ- 
+θιονίκης Φάυλλος: Κροτωνιῆται δὲ γένος εἰσὶ 
+᾿Αχαιοί. 
+
+48, Οἱ μέν νυν ἄλλοι τριήρεας παρεχόμενοι 
+ἐστρατεύοντο, Μήλιοι δὲ καὶ Σίφνιοι καὶ Σερίφιοι 
+πεντηκοντέρους: Μήλιοι μὲν γένος ἐόντες ἀπὸ 
+Λακεδαίμονος δύο παρείχοντο, Σίφνιοι. δὲ καὶ 
+Σερίφιοι᾽ Ίωνες ἐ ἐόντες ἀπ᾽ ᾿Αθηνέων μίαν ἑκάτεροι. 
+ἀριθμὸς δὲ ἐγένετο ὁ πᾶς τῶν νεῶν, πάρεξ τῶν 
+πεντηκοντέρων, τριηκόσιαι καὶ ἑβδομήκοντα καὶ 
+ὀκτώ. 
+
+49. Ὡς δὲ ἐς τὴν Σαλαμῖνα συνῆλθον οἱ στρα- 
+τηγοὶ ἀπὸ τῶν εἰρημενέων πολίων, ἐβουλεύοντο, 
+προθέντος Εὐρυβιάδεω γνώμην ἀποφαίνεσθαι τὸν 
+βουλόμενον, ὅκου δοκέοι ἐπιτηδεότατον εἶναι ναυ- 
+44 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 46-49 
+
+
+islanders ; but they paid no heed to the command 
+and joined themselves to the Greeks, being invited 
+thereto by Democritus, a man of note in their town, 
+who was then captain of a trireme. The Naxians 
+are lonians, of Athenian lineage. The Styrians 
+furnished the same number as at Artemisium, and 
+the Cythnians one trireme and a fifty-oared bark; 
+both these peoples are Dryopians. "There were also 
+in the fleet men of Seriphos and Siphnos and Melos, 
+these being the only islanders who had not given the 
+foreigner earth and water. 
+
+47. Al these aforesaid came to the war from 
+countries nearer than Thesprotia and the river 
+Acheron ; for Thesprotia marches with the Am- 
+praciots and Leucadians, who came from the lands 
+farthest distant. ΟΕ those that dwell farther off 
+than these, the men of Croton alone came to aid 
+Hellas in its peril, and they with one ship, whereof 
+the captain was Phajyilus, a victor in the Pythian 
+games. ‘These Crotoniats are of Achaean blood. 
+
+48. All these furnished triremes for the fleet save 
+the Melians and Siphnians and Seriphians, who 
+brought fifty-oared barks, the Melians (who are of 
+Lacedaemonian stock) two, and the Siphnians and 
+Seriphians (who are lonians of Athenian lineage) 
+one each. The whole number of the ships, besides 
+the fifty-oared barks, was three hundred and seventy 
+eight. 
+
+49. When the leaders from the cities aforenamed 
+met at Salamis, they held a council ; Eurybiades laid 
+the matter before them, bidding whosoever would 
+to declare what waters in his judgment were fittest 
+for a sea-fight, among all places whereof the Greeks 
+
+
+45 
+
+
+HERODCTUS 
+
+
+μαχίην ποιέεσθαι τῶν αὐτοὶ χωρέων ἐγκρατέες 
+eiat ἡ γὰρ ᾿Αττικὴ ἀπεῖτο ἤδη, τῶν δὲ λοιπέων 
+πέρι προετίθεε. αἱ γνῶμαι δὲ τῶν λεγόντων αἱ 
+πλεῖσται συνεξέπιπτον πρὸς τὸν ᾿Ισθμὸν πλώ- 
+σαντας ναυμαχέειν πρὸ τῆς Πελοποννήσου, ἐπι- 
+λέγοντες τὸν «λόγον τόνδε, ὡς εἰ νικηθέωσι τῇ 
+ναυμαχίῃ, ἐν Σαλαμῖνι μὲν ἐόντες πολιορκήσονται 
+ἐν νήσῳ, iva σφι τιμωρίη οὐδεμία ἐπιφανήσεται, 
+πρὸς δὲ τῷ Ἰσθμῷ é ἐς τοὺς ἑωυτῶν ἐξοίσονται. 
+
+60. Ταῦτα τῶν ἀπὸ Πελοποννήσου στρατηγῶν 
+ἐπιλεγομένων, ἐληλύθεε à ἀνὴρ ᾿Αθηναῖος ἀγγέλλων 
+ἥκειν τὸν βάρβαρον ἐς τὴν ᾿Αττικὴν καὶ πᾶσαν 
+αὐτὴν πυρπολέεσθαι. ὁ γὰρ. διὰ Βοιωτῶν τραπό- 
+μενος στρατὸς ἅμα Ξέρξη, ἐμπρήσας Θεσπιέων 
+τὴν πόλιν, αὐτῶν ἐκλελοιπότων ἐς Πελοπόννησον, 
+καὶ τὴν llXaratéov ὡσαύτως, ἧκέ τε ἐς τὰς 
+᾿Αθήνας καὶ πάντα ἐκεῖνα ἐδηίου. ἐνέπρησε δὲ 
+Θέσπειάν τε καὶ Πλάταιαν πυθόμενος Θηβαίων 
+ὅτι οὐκ ἐμήδιξον. 
+
+51. ᾿Απὸ δὲ τῆς διαβάσιος τοῦ | λλ.)σπόντου, 
+ἔνθεν πορεύεσθαι ἤρξαντο οἱ βάρβαροι, ἕνα αὐτοῦ 
+διατρίψαντες μῆνα ἐν τῷ διέβαινον ἐς τὴν 
+Εὐρώπην, ἐν τρισὶ ἑτέροισι μησὶ ἐγένοντο ἐν 
+τῇ ᾿Αττικῇ, Καλλιάδεω ἄρχοντος ᾿Αθηναίοισι. 
+καὶ αἱρέουσι ἔρημον τὸ ἄστυ, καί τινας ὀλίγους 
+εὑρίσκουσι τῶν ᾿Αθηναίων ἐν τῷ ἱρῷ ἐόντας, 
+ταμίας τε τοῦ ἱροῦ καὶ πένητας ἀνθρώπους, οἳ 
+φραξάμενοι τὴν ἀκρόπολιν, θύρῃσί τε καὶ ξύλοισι 
+ἠμύνοντο τοὺς ἐπιόντας, ἅμα μὲν ὑπ᾽ ἀσθενείης 
+βίου οὐκ ἐκχωρήσαντες ἐς Σαλαμῖνα, πρὸς δὲ 
+αὐτοὶ δοκέοντες ἐξευρηκέναι τὸ μαντήιον τὸ ἡ 
+Πυθίη σφι ἔχρησε, τὸ ξύλινον τεῖχος ἀνάλωτον 
+46 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 49-51: 
+
+
+were masters; of Attica they had no more hope ; it 
+was among other places that he bade them judge. 
+Then the opinion of most of the speakers tended to 
+the same conclusion, that they should sail to the 
+Isthmus and do battle by sea for the safety of the 
+Peloponnese, the reason which they alleged being 
+this, that if they were defeated in the fight at 
+Salamis they would be beleaguered in an island, 
+where no help could come to them; but off the 
+Isthmus they could win to their own coasts. 
+
+50. While the Peloponnesian captains held this 
+argument, there came a man of Athens, bringing 
+news that the foreigner was arrived in Attica, and 
+was wasting it all with fire. For the army which 
+folowed Xerxes through Boeotia had burnt the 
+town of the Thespians (who had themselves left 
+it and gone tothe Peloponnese) and Plataea likewise, 
+and was arrived at Athens, laying waste all the 
+country round. They burnt Thespia and Plataea 
+because they learnt from the Thebans that those 
+towns had not taken the Persian part. 
+
+51. Now after the crossing of the Hellespont 
+whence they began their march, the foreigners had 
+spent one month in their passage into Europe, 
+and in three more months they arrived in Attica, 
+Calliades being then archon at Athens. There they 
+took the city, then left desolate; but they found in 
+the temple some few Athenians, temple-stewards 
+and needy men, who defended themselves against 
+the assault by fencing the acropolis with doors and 
+logs; these had not withdrawn to Salamis, partly 
+by reason of poverty, and also because they supposed 
+themselves to have found out the meaning of the 
+Delphic oracle that the wooden wall should be 
+
+
+47 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+m > A 4 ^ - ν ΄ 
+ἔσεσθαι: αὐτὸ δὴ τοῦτο εἶναι τὸ κρησφύγετον 
+N N M N , 
+E τὸ μαντήιον καὶ οὐ τὰς νέας. 
+e M ’ e L4 3 M Ν , 
+
+. Οἱ δὲ Πέρσαι (ζομενοι ἐπὶ τον καταντιον 
+τῆς EL ὄχθον, τὸν ᾿Αθηναῖοι καλέουσι 
+᾿Αρήιον πάγον, ἐπολιόρκεον τρόπον τοιόνδε" ὅκως 
+
+\ 
+στυππεῖον περὶ τοὺς ὀιστοὺς περιθέντες ἄψειαν, 
+
+
+ἐτόξευον ἐς τὸ φράγμα. ἐνθαῦτα ᾿Αθηναίων οἱ 
+’ 
+
+
+πολιορκεόμενοι. ὅμως ἡμύνοντο, καίπερ ἐς τὸ 
+ἔσχατον κακοῦ ἀπιγμένοι καὶ τοῦ φράγματος 
+προδεδωκότος" οὐδὲ λόγους τῶν Πεισιστρατιδέων 
+προσφερόντων περὶ όμολο γίης ἐνεδέκοντο, ἀμυνό- 
+μενοί δὲ ἄλλα τε ἀντεμηχανῶντο καὶ δὴ καὶ 
+προσιόντων | τῶν Βαρβάρων πρὸς τὰς πύλας όλοι- 
+τρόχους ἀπίεσαν, ὥστε Ξέρξην ἐπὶ χρόνον συχνὸν 
+ἀπορίησι ἐνέχεσθαι ou δυνάμενον σφέας ἐλεῖν. 
+
+53. X povo Ò ἐκ τῶν ἀπόρων ἐφάνη δή τις 
+ἔξοδος τοῖσι βαρβάροισι: ἔδεε γὰρ κατὰ τὸ θεο- 
+πρόπιον πᾶσαν τὴν ᾿Αττικὴν τὴν ἐν Τῇ ἠπείρῳ 
+γενέσθαι ὑπὸ Πέρσῃσι. ἔμπροσθε ὧν πρὸ τῆς 
+ἀκροπόλιος, ὄπισθε δὲ τῶν πυλέων καὶ τῆς 
+ἀνόδου, τῇ δὴ οὔτε τις ἐφύλασσε οὔτ᾽ ἂν ἤλπισε 
+μή, κοτέ τις κατὰ ταῦτα ἀναβαίη ἀνθρώπων, 
+ταύτη ἀνέβησαν τινὲς κατὰ τὸ (pov τῆς Κέκροπος 
+θυγατρὸς ᾿Αγλαύρου, καίτοι περ ἀποκρήμνου 
+ἐόντος τοῦ χώρου. ὡς δὲ εἶδον αὐτοὺς ἀναβε- 
+βηκότας οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι ἐπὶ τὴν ἀκρόπολιν, of μὲν 
+ἐρρίπτεον ἑωυτοὺς κατὰ τοῦ τείχεος κάτω καὶ 
+διεφθείροντο, oi δὲ ἐς τὸ μέγαρον κατέφευγον. 
+τῶν δὲ ἹἹερσέων οἱ ἀναβεβηκότες πρῶτον μὲν 
+
+
+[n vii. 142. 
+
+
+BOOK VIIL. 51-53 
+
+
+impregnable, and believed that this, and not the 
+ships, was the refuge signified by the prophecy.! 
+
+52. The Persians sat down on the hill over against 
+the acropolis, which is called by the Athenians the 
+Hill of Ares, and besieged them by shooting arrows 
+wrapped in lighted tow at the barricade. There 
+the Athenians defended themselves against their 
+besiegers, albeit they were in extremity and their 
+barricade had failed them; nor would they listen 
+to the terms of surrender pr roposed to them by the 
+Pisistratids, but defended themselves by counter- 
+devices, chiefly by rolling great stones down on tlie 
+foreigners when they assaulted the gates; insomuch 
+that for a long while Xerxes could not take the 
+place, and knew not what to do. 
+
+53. But at the last in their quandary the foreigners 
+found an entrance; for the oracle must needs be 
+fulfilled, and all the mainland of Attica be made 
+subject to the Persians. In front of the acropolis, 
+and behind the gates and the ascent thereto, there 
+was a place where none was on guard and none 
+would have thought that any man would ascend 
+that way; here certain men mounted near the shrine 
+of Cecrops’ daughter Aglaurus, though the way led 
+up a sheer cliff? When the Athenians saw that 
+they had ascended to the acropolis, some of them 
+cast themselves down from the wall and so perished, 
+and others fled into the inner chamber. Those 
+Persians who had come up first betook themselves 
+
+2 Hdt.'s description (say How and Wells) is accurate and 
+obvious. The ascent was probably made by a steep cleft 
+running under or within the N. wall of the Acropolis ; the 
+western entrance of this cleft is ‘in front,’ facing the same 
+way as the 1nain entrance of the Acropolis. μέγαρον here = 
+ἱρόν. 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐτράποντο πρὸς τὰς πύλας, ταύτας δὲ ἀνοίξαντες 
+τοὺς ἱκέτας. ἐφόνευον" ἐπεὶ δέ σφι πάντες κατέ- 
+στρωντο, τὸ ἱρὸν συλήσαντες ἐνέπρησαν πᾶσαν 
+τὴν ἀκρόπολιν. 
+
+54. Σχὼν δὲ παντελέως τὰς ᾿Αθήνας Ξέρξης 
+ἀπέπεμψε ἐς Σοῦσα ἄγγελον ἱππέα ᾿Αρταβάνῳ 
+ἀγγελέοντα. τὴν παρεοῦσάν σφι εὐπρηξίην. ἀπὸ 
+δὲ τῆς πέµψιος τοῦ κήρυκος δευτέρῃ ἡμέρῃ 
+συγκαλέσας ᾿Αθηναίων TOUS φυγάδας, ἑωυτῷ δὲ 
+ἑπομένους, ἐκέλευε τρόπῳ τῷ σφετέρῳ θῦσαι τὰ 
+ipa ἀναβάντας ἐς τὴν ἀκρόπολιν, εἴτε δὴ ὦ ὧν ὄψιν 
+τινὰ ἰδὼν ἐνυπνίου ἐνετέλλετο ταῦτα, εἴτε καὶ 
+ἐνθύμιόν οἱ ἐγένετο ἐμπρήσαντι τὸ ἱρόν. οἱ δὲ 
+φυγάδες τῶν ᾿Αθηναίων € ἐποίησαν τὰ ἐντεταλμένα. 
+
+55. Tov δὲ εἵνεκεν τούτων ἐπεμνήσθην, φράσω. 
+ἔστι ἐν τῇ ἀκροπόλι ταύτῃ Ἐρεχθέος τοῦ γηγε- 
+véos λεγομένου εἶναι νηός, ἐν τῷ ἐλαίη τε καὶ 
+θάλασσα ἔνι, τὰ λόγος παρὰ ᾿Αθηναίων Hoger- 
+δέωνά τε καὶ ᾿Αθηναίην é ἐρίσαντας περὶ τῆς χώρης 
+μαρτύρια. θέσθαι. ταύτην ὧν τὴν ἐλαίην ἅμα τῷ 
+ἄλλῳ ἱρῷ κατέλαβε ἐμπρησθῆναι ὑπὸ τῶν βαρ- 
+βάρων' δευτέρῃ δὲ ἡμέρῃ ἀπὸ τῆς ἐμπρήσιος 
+᾿Αθηναίων οἱ θύειν ὑπὸ βασιλέος κελενόμενοι 
+ὡς ἀνέβησαν ἐς τὸ ἱρόν, ὥρων βλαστὸν ἐκ τοῦ 
+στελέχεος ὅσον τε πηχυαῖον ἀναδεδραμηκότα. 
+οὗτοι μέν νυν ταῦτα ἔφρασαν. 
+
+56. Οἱ δὲ ἐν Sahapive ' Ἕλληνες, ὥς σφι ἐξηγ- 
+γέλθη à ὡς ἔσχε τὰ περὶ τὴν ᾿Αθηναίων ἀκρόπολιν, 
+ἐς τοσοῦτον θόρυβον ἆ ἀπίκοντο ὡς ἔνιοι τῶν στρα- 
+τηγῶν οὐδὲ κυρωθῆναι -ἔμενον τὸ προκείμενον 
+πρῆγμα, ἀλλ, ἔς τε τὰς νέας ἐσέπιπτον καὶ ἱστία 
+ἀείροντο ὡς ἀποθευσόμενοι τοῖσί τε ὑπολειπο- 
+
+
+5ο 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 53-56 
+
+
+to the gates, which they opened, and slew the 
+suppliants; and when they had laid all the Athe- 
+nians low, they plundered the temple and burnt the 
+whole of the acropolis. 
+
+54. Being now wholly master of Athens, Xerxes 
+sent a horseman to Susa to announce his present 
+success to Artabanus. On the next day after the 
+messenger was sent he called together the Athenian 
+exiles who followed in his train, and bade them go 
+up to the acropolis and offer sacrifice after their 
+manner, whether it was some vision seen of him 
+in sleep that led him to give this charge, or that 
+he repented of his burning of the temple. The 
+Athenian exiles did as they were bidden. 
+
+55. I will now show wherefore I make mention of 
+this: on that acropolis there is a shrine of Erech- 
+theus the Earthborn (as he is called), wherein is an 
+olive tree, and a salt-pool, which (as the Athenians 
+say) were set there by Poseidon and Athene as 
+tokens of their contention for the land.! Now it 
+was so, that the olive tree was burnt with the 
+temple by the foreigners; but on the day after its 
+burning, when the Athenians bidden by the king 
+to sacrifice went up to the temple, they saw a shoot 
+of about a cubit’s length sprung from the trunk ; 
+which thing they reported. 
+
+56. When it was told to the Greeks at Salamis 
+what had befallen the Athenian acropolis, they were 
+so panic-struck that some of their captains would not 
+wait till the matter whereon they debated should be 
+resolved, but threw themselves aboard their ships 
+and hoisted their sails for flight. Those that were 
+
+
+! Athene created the olive, Poseidon the salt pool; Cecrops 
+adjudged the land to Athene. 
+
+
+5I 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μένοισι αὐτῶν ἐκυρώθη πρὸ τοῦ ᾿Ισθμοῦ ναυμα- 
+
+/ τ ^ 
+χέειν. νύξ τε ἐγίνετο καὶ οἳ διαλυθέντες ἐκ τοῦ 
+συνεδρίου ἐσέβαινον ἐς τὰς νέας. 
+
+57. ᾿Ενθαῦτα δὴ Θεμιστοκλέα ἀπικόμενον ἐπὶ 
+
+di μ 
+. / » / > N , ^ e? 
+τὴν νέα εἴρετο Μνησίφιλος ἀνὴρ ᾿Αθηναῖος ὃ τι 
+y [4 
+
+σφι εἴη βεβουλευμένον. πυθόμενος δὲ πρὸς 
+αὐτοῦ ὡς εἴη δεδογμένον ἀνάγειν τὰς νέας πρὸς 
+N 
+
+τὸν ᾿Ισθμὸν καὶ πρὸ τῆς Πελοποννήσου vav- 
+payee, εἶπε “OUT ἄρα, ἣν ἀπαείρωσι τὰς νέας 
+ἀπὸ Σαλαμῖνος, περὶ οὐδεμιῆς ἔτι πατρίδος ναυ- 
+
+/ 6 
+
+μαχήσεις: κατὰ γὰρ πόλις ἕκαστοι τρέψονται, 
+
+. y / , / / / 
+
+καὶ οὔτε σφέας EvpuStadns κατέχειν δυνήσεται 
+e 
+οὔτε τις ἀνθρώπων ἄλλος ὥστε μὴ οὐ διασκε- 
+^ ~ ^ > / if € CRN N 
+δασθῆναι τὴν στρατιήν" ἀπολέεται τε 1) Eras 
+ἀβουλίῃσι. ἀλλ᾽ εἴ τις ἐστὶ μηχανή, ἴθι καὶ 
+πειρῶ διαχέαι τὰ βεβουλευμένα, ἤν κως δύνῃ 
+ἀναγνῶσαι Εὐρυβιάδην μεταβουλεύσασθαι ὥστε 
+αὐτοῦ μένειν. 
+
+58. Κάρτα τε τῷ Θεμιστοκλέι ἤρεσε ý ὑπο- 
+θήκη, καὶ οὐδὲν πρὸς ταῦτα ἀμειψάμενος ἤιε ἐπὶ 
+τὴν νέα τὴν Ἠὐρυβιάδεω. ἀπικόμενος δὲ ἔφη 
+ἐθέλειν οἱ κοινόν TL πρῆγμα συμμῖξαι ὃ δ αὐτὸν 
+ἐς τὴν νέα ἐκέλευε ἐσβάντα λέγειν, εἴ τι θέλει. 
+» ^ e / , / ς / 
+ἐνθαῦτα ὁ Θεμιστοκλέης παριζὀμενός οἱ καταλέγει 
+ἐκεῖνά τε πάντα τὰ ἤκουσε Μνησιφίλου, ἑωυτοῦ 
+
+/ . » \ / > ^ 
+ποιεύμενος, καὶ ἄλλα πολλὰ προστιθείς, ἐς ὃ 
+ἀνέγνωσε χρηίζων € ἔκ τε τῆς νεὸς ἐκβῆναι συλλέξαι 
+
+A A 
+τε τοὺς στρατηγοὺς ἐς τὸ συνέδριον. 
+
+M À N 
+59. Ὥς δὲ ἄρα συνελέχθησαν, πρὶν ἢ τὸν 
+Εὐρυβιάδην προθεῖναι τὸν λόγον τῶν εἵνεκα 
+\ ik e 
+
+συνήγαγε τοὺς στρατηγούς, πολλὸς ἦν ὁ Θεμι- 
+- / / 
+
+στοκλέης ἐν τοῖσι λόγοισι οἷα κάρτα δεόμενος" 
+
+
+52 
+
+
+BOOK VIH. 56-59 
+
+
+left behind resolved that the fleet should fight to 
+guard the Isthmus ; and at nightfall they broke up 
+from the assembly and embarked. 
+
+57. Themistocles then being returned to his ship, 
+Mnesiphilus, an Athenian, asked him what was the 
+issue of their counsels. Learning from him that their 
+plan was to sail to the Isthmus and fight in defence 
+of the Peloponnese, * Then," said Mnesiphilus, “ if 
+they put out to sea from Salamis, your ships will 
+have no country left wherefor to fight; for every- 
+one will betake himself to his own city, and neither 
+Eurybiades, nor any other man, will be able to 
+hold them, but the armament will be scattered 
+abroad; and Hellas will perish by unwisdom. Nay, 
+if there be any means thereto, go now and strive to 
+undo this plan, if haply you may be able to persuade 
+Eurybiades to change his purpose and so abide 
+here 
+
+58. This advice pleased Themistocles well; making 
+no answer to Mnesiphilus, he went to Eurybiades' 
+ship, and said that he would confer with him on a 
+matter of their common interest. Eurybiades bid- 
+ding him come aboard and say what he would, 
+Themistocles sat by him and told him all that he 
+had heard from Mnesiphilus, as it were of his own 
+devising, and added much thereto, till he prevailed 
+with the Spartan by entreaty to come out of his 
+ship and assemble the admirals in their place of 
+meeting. 
+
+59. They being assembled (so it is said), before 
+Eurybiades had laid before them the matter wherefor 
+the generals were brought together, Themistocles 
+spoke long and vehemently in the earnestness of his 
+entreaty ; and while he yet spoke, Adimantus son 
+
+
+55 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+^ e / > / 
+λέγοντος δὲ αὐτοῦ, ὁ Κορίνθιος στρατηγὸς ᾿Αδεί- 
+€» ΄ 9 cc? / ? ^ 
+µαντος ὁ Ὠκύτου εἶπε “Ὁ, Θεμιστόκλεες, ἐν τοῖσι 
+^ / > 
+ἀγῶσι οἱ προεξανιστάµενοι ῥαπίζονται. ὃ δὲ 
+, L4 » ες Οι δέ > , , 
+ἀπολυόμενος ἔφη L δέ γε ἐγκαταλειπόμενοι οὐ 
+^ » 
+στεφανοῦνται. i 
+60. Tore μὲν ἠπίως πρὸς τὸν Κορίνθιον ἀμεί- 
+yaro, πρὸς δὲ τὸν Εὐρυβιάδην ἔλεγε ἐκείνων μὲν 
+ἔτι οὐδὲν τῶν πρότερον λεχθέντων, ὡς ἐπεὰν 
+΄ ^ 
+ἀπαείρωσι ἀπὸ Σαλαμῖνος διαδρήσονται-. πα- 
+ρεόντων γὰρ τῶν συμμάχων οὐκ ἔφερέ οἱ κόσμον 
+οὐδένα κατηγορέειν' ὃ δὲ ἄλλου λόγου εἴχετο, 
+λέγων: τάδε. “Ev ool νῦν ἐστὶ σῶσαι τὴν Ελλάδα, 
+ἣν ἐμοὶ πείθῃ ναυμαχίην αὐτοῦ μένων ποιέεσθαι, 
+μηδὲ πειθόμενος τούτων τοῖσι λόγοισι. ἀναξεύξῃς 
+πρὸς τὸν Ἴσθμὸν τὰς νέας. ἀντίθες γὰρ ἑκάτερον 
+ἀκούσας. πρὸς μὲν τῷ Ἰσθμῷ συμβάλλων ἐν 
+πελάγεϊ ἀναπεπταμένῳ ναυμαχήσεις, ἐς τὸ ἥκιστα 
+ἡμῖν σύμφορον ἐστὶ νέας ἔχουσι βαρυτέρας καὶ 
+2 `N 3 LA A \ 3 / "^ / 
+ἀριθμὸν ἐλάσσονας" τοῦτο δὲ ἀπολέεις Σαλαμῖνά 
+Vax ` » y ν \ » 
+τε kai Μέγαρα καὶ Αἴγιναν, ἣν περ καὶ τα ἄλλα 
+εὐτυχήσωμεν. ἅμα δὲ τῷ ναυτικῷ αὐτῶν ἕψεται 
+καὶ o πεξὸς στρατός, καὶ οὕτω σφέας αὐτὸς ἄξεις 
+ἐπὶ τὴν Πελοπόννησον, κινδυνεύσεις τε ἁπάσῃ τῇ 
+e 16 À δὲ NES SEEN [4 ΄ /ὃ 3 
+Edda t ἣν δὲ τὰ ἐγώ λέγω ποιήσῃς, τοσάδε ἐν 
+αὐτοῖσι χρηστὰ εὑρήσεις" πρῶτα μὲν ἐν στεινῷ 
+συμβάλλοντες νηυσὶ ὀλίγησι πρὸς πολλάς, ἣν τὰ 
+οἰκότα ἐκ τοῦ πολέμου -ἐκβαίνῃ, πολλὸν κρατή- 
+σομεν' τὸ γὰρ ἐν στεινῷ ναυμαχέειν πρὸς. ἡμέων 
+ἐστί, ἐν εὐρυχωρίῃ δὲ πρὸς ἐκείνων. abris δὲ 
+Σαλαμὶς περιγίνεται, ἐς τὴν ἡμῖν ὑπέκκειται 
+τέκνα τε καὶ γυναῖκες. καὶ μὲν καὶ τόδε ἐν 
+^ 3/ ^ / ? 
+αὐτοῖσι ἔνεστι, τοῦ καὶ περιέχεσθε μάλιστα 
+
+
+54 
+
+
+BOOK VIII, 59-60 
+
+
+of Ocytus, the Corinthian admiral, said, “ At the 
+games, Themistocles, they that come forward before 
+their time are beaten with rods.” “Ay,” said 
+Themistocles, justifying himself, *but they that 
+wait too long win no crown." 
+
+60. Thus for the nonce he made the Corinthian 
+a soft answer ; then turning to Eurybiades, he said 
+now nought of what he had said before, how that 
+if they set sail from Salamis they would scatter and 
+flee; for it would have ill become him to bring 
+railing accusations against the allies in their 
+presence; he trusted to another plea instead. “It 
+lies in your hand," said he, “to save Hellas, if you 
+will be guided by me and fight here at sea, and not 
+be won by the words of these others to remove your 
+ships over to the Isthmus. Hear me now, and judge 
+between two plans. If you engage off the Isthmus 
+you will fight in open waters, where it is least for 
+our advantage, our ships being the heavier and the 
+fewer in number; and moreover you will lose 
+Salamis and Megara and Aegina, even if victory 
+attend us otherwise ; and their land army will follow 
+with their fleet, and so you will lead them to the 
+Peloponnese, and imperil all Hellas. But if you do 
+as I counsel you, you will thereby profit as I shall 
+show: firstly, by engaging their many ships with 
+our few in narrow seas, we shall win a great victory, 
+if the war have its rightful issue; for it is for our 
+advantage to fight in a strait as it is theirs to have 
+wide sea-room. Secondly, we save Salamis, whither 
+we have conveyed away our children and our women. 
+Moreover, there is this, too, in my plan, and it is 
+your chiefest desire: you will be defending the 
+
+
+55 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὁμοίως αὐτοῦ τε μένων προναυμαχήσεις Πελο- 
+ποννήσου καὶ πρὸς τῷ ᾿Ισθμῷ, οὐδὲ σφέας, εἰ 
+περ εὖ Φρονέεις, ἄξεις ἐπὶ τὴν Πελοπόννησον. 
+ἣν δέ γε καὶ τὰ ἐγὼ ἐλπίζω γένηται καὶ νικήσωμεν 
+τῇσι νηυσί, οὔτε ὑμῖν ἐς τὸν Ἰσθμὸν παρέσονται! 
+οἱ βάρβαροι οὔτε προβήσονται ἑκαστέρω τῆς 
+᾿Αττικῆς, ἀπίασί τε οὐδενὶ κόσμῳ, v a τε 
+κερδανέομεν περιεοῦσι καὶ Λὐγίνῃ καὶ Σαλαμῖνι, 
+ἐν τῇ ἡμῖν καὶ λόγιον ἐστὶ τῶν ἐχθρῶν κατύπερθε 
+γενέσθαι. οἰκότα μέν νυν βουλευομένοισι ἀνθρω- 
+ποισι ὡς τὸ ἐπίπαν ἐθέλει γίνεσθαι: μὴ δὲ οἰκότα 
+βουλευομένοισι οὐκ ἐθέλει οὐδὲ ὁ θεὸς προσχωρέειν 
+πρὸς τὰ: ἀνθρωπηίας γνώμας. 
+
+61. Ταῦτα λέγοντος Θεμιστοκλέος αὖτις ὁ 
+Κορίνθιος ᾿Αδείμαντος ἐπεφέρετο, σιγᾶν τε 
+κελεύων TÓ μὴ ἐστὶ πατρὶς καὶ Εὐρυβιάδην οὐκ 
+ἐῶν ἐπιψηφί ίζειν ἀπόλι ἀνδρί πόλιν γὰρ τὸν 
+Θεμιστοκλέα παρεχόμενον οὕτω ἐκέλευε γνώμας 
+συμβάλλεσθαι. ταῦτα δέ οἱ προέφερε ὅτι ἡλώ- 
+κεσάν τε καὶ κατείχοντο αἱ ᾿Αθῆναι. τότε δ) ὁ 
+Θεμιστοκλέης κεῖνόν τε καὶ τοὺς Κορινθίους 
+πολλά τε καὶ κακὰ ἔλεγε, ἑωυτοῖσι τε ἐδήλου 
+λόγῳ ὡς εἴη καὶ πόλις καὶ γῆ μέζων ἢ περ 
+ἐκείνοισι, ἔστ᾽ ἂν διηκόσιαι νέες σφι ἔωσι 
+πεπληρωμέναι" οὐδαμοὺς γὰρ ᾿Ελλήνων αὐτοὺς 
+οσοι ἀποκρούσεσθαι. 
+
+62. Σημαίνων δὲ ταῦτα τῷ λόγῳ διέβαινε ἐς 
+Εὐρυβιάδην, λέγων μᾶλλον ἐπεστραμμένα. KO 
+et μενέεις αὐτοῦ καὶ μένων ἔσεαι ἀνὴρ ἀγαθός: 
+εἰ δὲ μή, ἀνατρέψεις τὴν ᾿Ελλάδα' τὸ πᾶν γὰρ 
+ἡμῖν τοῦ πολέμου φέρουσι αἱ νέες. ἀλλ᾽ ἐμοὶ 
+πείθεο. εἰ δὲ ταῦτα μὴ ποιήσῃς, ἡμεῖς μὲν ὡς 
+56 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 60-62 
+
+
+Peloponnese as well by abiding here as you would by 
+fighting off the Isthmus, and you will not lead our 
+enemies (if you be wise) to the Isthmus. And if 
+that happen which I expect, you will never have 
+the foreigners upon you at the Isthmus; they will 
+advance no further than Attica, but depart in dis- 
+orderly fashion; and we shall gain by the saving 
+of Megara and Aegina and Salamis, where it is told 
+us by an oracle that we shall have the upper hand 
+of our enemies. Success comes oftenest to men 
+when they make reasonable designs ; but if they do 
+not so, neither will heaven for its part side with 
+human devices."' 
+
+61. Thus said Themistocles; but Adimantus the 
+Corinthian attacked him again, saying that a landless 
+man should hold his peace, and that Eurybiades 
+must not suffer one that had no city to vote; let 
+Themistocles (said he) have a city at his back ere 
+he took part in council —taunting him thus be- 
+cause Athens was taken and held by the enemy. 
+Thereupon Themistocles spoke long and bitterly 
+against Adimantus and the Corinthians, giving them 
+plainly to understand that the Athenians had a city 
+and country greater than theirs, as long as they had 
+two hundred ships fully manned ; for there were no 
+Greeks that could beat them off. 
+
+62. Thus declaring, he passed over to Eurybiades, 
+and spoke more vehemently than before. “If you 
+abide here, by so abiding you will be a right good 
+man ; but if you will not, you will overthrow Hellas; 
+for all our strength for war is in our ships. Nay, 
+be guided by me. But if you do not so, we then 
+
+
+57 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Suma ἀναλαβόντες τοὺς οἰκέτας κομιεύμεθα ἐς 
+Σζριν τὴν. ἐν Ἰταλίῃ, ἥ περ ἡμετέρη τε ἐστὶ ἐκ 
+παλαιοῦ ἔτι, καὶ τὰ λόγια λέγει ὑπ᾽ ἡμέων αὐτὴν 
+δέειν κτισθῆναι: ὑμεῖς δὲ συμμάχων τοιῶνδε 
+μουνωθέντες μεμνήσεσθε τῶν ἐμῶν λόγων." 
+
+09. Ταῦτα δὲ Θεμιστοκλέος λέγοντος ἀνεδι- 
+δάσκετο Ἠὐρυβιάδης: δοκέειν δέ µοι, ἀρρωδήσας 
+μάλιστα τοὺς ᾿Αθηναίους ἀνεδιδάσκετο, μή σφεας 
+ἀπολύπωσι, ἣν πρὸς τὸν ᾿Ισθ μὸν ἀγάγῃ τὰς νέας" 
+ἀπολιπόντων γὰρ ᾿Αθηναίων οὐκέτι ἐγίνοντο 
+ἀξιόμαχοι οἱ λοιποί. ταύτην δὲ αἱρέεται τὴν 
+γνώμην, αὐτοῦ «μένοντας μι ον 
+
+64. Οὕτω μὲν οἱ περὶ Σαλαμῖνα ἔπεσι axpo- 
+βολισάμενοι, ἐπείτε Εὐρυβιάδῃ ἔδοξε, αὐτοῦ 
+παρεσκευάξοντο ὡς ναυμαχήσοντες. ἡμέρη τε 
+ἐγίνετο καὶ ἅμα τῷ ἡλίῳ ἀνιόντι σεισμὸς ἐγένετο 
+ἔν τε τῇ γῆ καὶ τῇ θαλάσσῃ. ἔδοξε δέ σφι 
+εὔξασθαι τοῖσι θεοῖσι καὶ ἐπικαλέσασθαι τοὺς 
+Αἰακίδας συμμάχους. ws δέ σφι ἔδοξε, καὶ 
+ἐποίευν ταῦτα' εὐξάμενοι γὰρ πᾶσι τοῖσι θεοῖσι, 
+
+"roO ev ἐκ Σαλαμῖ Αἴαντά ὶ Τελα- 
+αὐτόθεν μὲν ἐκ Σαλαμῖνος Alavrá τε καὶ Tera 
+
+Qva ἐπεκαλέοντο, ἐπὶ δὲ Αἰακὸν καὶ τοὺς ἄλλους 
+Αἰακίδας νέα ἀπέστελλον ἐς Αἴγιναν. 
+
+66. "Εφη δὲ Δίκαιος ὁ ὁ Θεοκύδεος, ἀνὴρ ᾿Αθηναῖος 
+φυγάς τε καὶ παρὰ Μήδοισι Ἀόγιμος γενόμενος 
+τοῦτον τὸν χρόνον, ἐπείτε ἐκείρετο 7) ᾿Αττικὴ 
+χώρη ὑπὸ τοῦ πεξοῦ στρατοῦ τοῦ Ξέρξεω € ἐοῦσα 
+ἔρημος ᾿Αθηναίων, τυχεῖν τότε ἐὼν ἅμα Δημαρήτῳ 
+τῷ Λακεδαιμονίῳ ἐν τῷ Θριασίῳ πεδίῳ, ἰδεῖν δὲ 
+
+
+1 The images of Aeacus and his sons; cp. v. 80. 
+3 N.W. of Athens, from which Eleusis is about 15 miles 
+distant. Plutarch says that the vision was seen on the day 
+
+
+58 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 62-65 
+
+
+without more ado will take our households and voyage 
+to Siris in Italy, which has been ours from old time, 
+and the oracles tell that we must there plant a 
+colony ; and you, left without allies such as we are, 
+will have cause to remember what I have said." 
+
+63. These words of Themistocles moved Eurybiades 
+to change his purpose; which to my thinking he did 
+chiefly because he feared lest the Athenians should 
+leave him if he took his ships to the Isthmus ; for 
+if the Athenians should leave the fleet the rest 
+would be no match for the enemy. He chose then 
+the plan aforesaid, namely, to abide and fight on the 
+seas where they were. 
+
+64. Thus after this wordy skirmish the Greeks at 
+Salamis prepared, since Eurybiades so willed, to 
+fight their battle where they were. At sunrise on 
+the next day there was an earthquake on land and 
+sea ; and they resolved to pray to the gods, and to 
+call the sons of Aeacus to be their helpers. As they 
+resolved, so they did; they prayed to all the gods, 
+and called Aias and Telamon to come to them from 
+Salamis, where the Greeks were; and they sent a 
+ship to Aegina for Aeacus and the rest that were of 
+his House.! 
+
+65. There was one Dicaeus, son of Theocydes, an 
+exile from Athens who had attained to estimation 
+among the Medes. This was the tale that he told: 
+At the time when the land of Attica was being laid 
+waste by Xerxes’ army, and no Athenians were 
+therein, he, being with Demaratus the Lacedae- 
+monian on the Thriasian? plain, saw dust coming 
+of the battle of Salamis, which would thus have been fought 
+on September 22 (20th of Boedromion) ; for it is assumed that 
+the vision coincided in date with the standing date of the 
+Eleusinian festival. 
+
+59 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+κονιορτὸν χωρέοντα am  WXevoivos ὡς ἀνδρῶν 
+μάλιστά Ky τρισμυρίων, ἀποθωμάζειν τε σφέας 
+τὸν κονιορτὸν ὅτεων κοτὲ εἴη, ἀνθρώπων, καὶ 
+πρόκατε φωνῆς. ἀκούειν, καί οἱ φαίνεσθαι τὴν 
+φωνὴν εἶναι τὸν μυστικὸν ἴακχον. εἶναι ὃ 
+ἀδαήμονα τῶν ἱρῶν τῶν ἐν E λευσῖνι γινομένων 
+τὸν Δημάρητον, εἰρέσθαί, τε αὐτὸν ὅ τι τὸ φθεγ- 
+γόμενον εἴη τοῦτο. αὐτὸς δὲ εἰπεῖν S Δημάρητε, 
+οὐκ ἔστι ὅκως οὐ μέγα τι σίνος ἔσται τῇ βασιλέος 
+στρατιῇ' Tace γὰρ ἀρίδηλα, ἐρήμου ἐούσης τῆς 
+᾿Αττικῆς, ὅτι θεῖον τὸ φθεγγόμενον, ἀπ᾽ Ἐλευσῖνος 
+ἰὸν ἐς τιμωρίην ᾿Αθηναίοισί τε καὶ τοῖσι συμ- 
+μάχοισι. καὶ ἣν μέν γε κατασκήψῃ ἐς τὴν 
+Πελοπόννησον, κίνδυνος αὐτῷ Te Βασιλέι καὶ 
+τῇ στρατιὴ τῇ ἐν τῇ ἠπείρῳ ἔσται, ἣν δὲ ἐπὶ 
+τὰς νέας τράπηται τὰς ἐν Σαλαμῖνι, τὸν ναυτικὸν 
+στρατὸν κινδυνεύσει βασιλεὺς ἀποβαλεῖν. τὴν 
+δὲ ὁρτὴν ταύτην ἄγουσι ᾿Αθηναῖοι ἀνὰ πάντα 
+ἔτεα τῇ Μητρὶ καὶ τῇ Κούρῃ, καὶ αὐτῶν τε ὁ 
+βουλόμενος καὶ τῶν ἄλλων Ελλήνων μυεῖται' 
+καὶ τὴν φωνὴν τῆς ἀκούεις ἐν ταύτῃ τῇ ὁρτῇ 
+ἰακχάξουσι.᾽ πρὸς ταῦτα εἰπεῖν Δημάρητον 
+“Σίγα τε καὶ μηδενὶ ἄλλῳ τὸν λόγον τοῦτον 
+εἴπης' ἣν γάρ τοι ἐς βασιλέα ἀνενειχθῇ τὰ ἔπεα 
+ταῦτα, ἀποβαλέεις τὴν κεφαλήν, καί σε οὔτε ἐγὼ 
+δυνήσομαι ῥύσασθαι οὔτ᾽ ἄλλος ἀνθρώπων οὐδὲ 
+εἷς. ἀλλ᾽ ἔχ᾽ ἥσυχος, περὶ δὲ στρατιῆς toče 
+θεοῖσι μελήσει." τὸν μὲν. δὴ ταῦτα παραινέειν, 
+ἐκ δὲ τοῦ κονιορτοῦ καὶ τῆς φωνῆς γενέσθαι 
+νέφος καὶ μεταρσιωθὲν φέρεσθαι ἐπὶ Σαλαμῖνος 
+ἐπὶ τὸ στρατόπεδον τὸ τῶν Ἑλλήνων. οὕτω δὴ 
+αὐτοὺς μαθεῖν ὅτι τὸ ναυτικὸν τὸ Ξέρξεω aro- 
+6ο 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 65 
+
+
+from Eleusis as it were raised by the feet of about 
+thirty thousand men ; and as they marvelled greatly 
+what men they should be whence the dust came, 
+immediately they heard a cry, which cry seemed 
+to him to be the Iacchus-song of the mysteries. 
+Demaratus, not being conversant with the rites of 
+Eleusis, asked him what this voice might be; and 
+Dicaeus said, * Without doubt, Demaratus, some 
+great harm will befall the king's host; for Attica 
+being unpeopled, it is plain hereby that the voice 
+we hear is of heaven's sending, and comes from 
+Eleusis to the aid of the Athenians and their allies. 
+And if the vision descend upon the Peloponnese, 
+the king himself and his army on land will be 
+endangered ; but if it turn towards the ships at 
+Salamis, the king will be in peril of losing his fleet. 
+As for this feast, it is kept by the Athenians 
+every year for the honour of the Mother and the 
+Maid,! and whatever Greek will, be he Athenian or 
+other, is then initiated ; and the cry which you hear 
+is the *Iacchus' which is uttered at this feast." 
+Demaratus replied thereto, * Keep silence, and 
+speak to none other thus; for if these words of 
+yours be reported to the king, you will lose your 
+head, and neither I nor any other man will avail 
+to save you. Hold your peace; and for this host, 
+the gods shall look to it." Such was Demaratus' 
+counsel; and after the dust and the cry came a 
+cloud, which rose aloft and floated away towards 
+Salamis, to the Greek fleet. By this they under- 
+stood, that Xerxes’ ships must perish.—This was 
+
+
+1 Demeter and Persephone. 
+
+
+61 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+λέεσθαι μέλλοι. ταῦτα μὲν Δίκαιος ὁ Θεοκύδεος 
+ἔλεγε, Δημαρήτου τε καὶ ἄλλων μαρτύρων 
+καταπτόμενος. 
+
+66. Οἱ δὲ ἐς τὸν Ξέρξεω ναυτικὸν στρατὸν 
+ταχθέντες, ἐπειδὴ ἐκ Τρηχῖνος θεησάμενοι τὸ 
+τρῶμα, τὸ Λακωνικὸν διέβησαν ἐς τὴν Ἱστιαίην, 
+ἐπισχόντες ἡμέρας. τρεῖς ἔπλεον δι Εὐρίπου, καὶ 
+ἐν ἑτέρῃσι τρισὶ ἡμέρῃσι ἐγένοντο ἐν Φαλήρῳ. 
+ὡς μὲν ἐμοὶ δοκέειν, οὐκ ἐλάσσονες ἐόντες ἀρι- 
+θ μὸν ἐσέβαλον ἐς τὰς ᾿Αθήνας, κατά τε ἤπειρον 
+καὶ τῆσι νηυσὶ ἀπικόμενοι, ἢ ἐπί τε Σηπιάδα 
+ἀπίκοντο καὶ ἐς Θερμοπύλας: ἀντιθήσω γὰρ 
+τοῖσί τε ὑπὸ τοῦ χειμῶνος αὐτῶν ἀπολομένοισι 
+καὶ τοῖσι ἐν Θερμοπύλ.ησι καὶ τῇσι ἐπ᾽ ᾿Αρτεμισίῳ 
+ναυμαχίῃσι τούσδε τοὺς τότε οὔκω ἑπομένους 
+βασιλέι, Μηλιέας καὶ Δωριέας καὶ Λοκροὺς καὶ 
+Βοιωτοὺς πανστρατιῇ ἑπομένους πλὴν Θεσπιέων 
+καὶ Πλαταιέων, καὶ μάλα Καρυστίους τε καὶ 
+᾿Ανδρίους καὶ Τηνίους τε καὶ τοὺς λοιποὺς 
+νησιώτας πάντας, πλὴν τῶν πέντε πολίων τῶν 
+ἐπεμνήσθημεν πρότερον τὰ οὐνόματα. ὅσῳ γὰρ 
+δὴ προέβαινε ἐσωτέρω τῆς Ἑλλάδος ὁ Πέρσης, 
+τοσούτῳ πλέω ἔθνεά οἱ εἵπετο. 
+
+61. ᾿Επεὶ ὧν ἀπίκατο ἐς τὰς ᾿Αθήνας πάντες 
+οὗτοι πλὴν Παρίων (Πάριοι δὲ ὑπολειφθέντες ἐν 
+Kuve ἐκαραδόκεον τὸν πόλεμον KH ἀποβήσεται), 
+οἱ δὲ λοιποὶ ὡς ἀπίκοντο ἐς τὸ Φάληρον, ἐνθαῦτα 
+κατέβη αὐτὸς Ξέρξης ἐπὶ τὰς νέας, ἐθέλων σφι 
+συμμῖξαί τε καὶ πυθέσθαι τῶν ἐπιπλεόντων τὰς 
+γνώμας. ἐπεὶ δὲ ἀπικόμενος προΐξετο, παρῆσαν 
+μετάπεμπτοι οἱ τῶν ἐθνέων τῶν σφετέρων τύ- 
+ραννοι καὶ ταξίαρχοι ἀπὸ τῶν νεῶν, καὶ ἵζοντο 
+
+
+62 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 65-67 
+
+
+the tale told by Dicaeus, son of Theocydes; and 
+Demaratus and others (he said) could prove it 
+true. 
+
+66. They that were appointed to serve in Xerxes’ 
+fleet, when they had viewed the hurt done to the 
+Laconians and crossed over from Trachis to Histiaea, 
+after three days' waiting sailed through the Euripus, 
+and in three more days they arrived at Phalerum. 
+To my thinking, the forces both of land and sea 
+were no fewer in number when they brake into 
+Athens than when they came to Sepias and Ther- 
+mopylae; for against those that were lost in the 
+storm, and at Thermopylae, and in the sea-fights 
+off Artemisium, I set these, who at that time were 
+not yet in the king's following—namely, the Melians, 
+the Dorians, the Locrians, and the whole force of 
+Boeotia (save only the Thespians and Plataeans), yea, 
+and the men of Carystus and Andros and Tenos and 
+the rest of the islands, save the five states of which 
+I have before made mention.! For the farther the 
+Persian pressed on into Hellas the more were the 
+peoples that followed in his train. 
+
+67. So when all these were come to Athens, 
+except the Parians (who had been left behind in 
+Cythnus watching to see which way the war should 
+incline)—the rest, I say, being come to Phalerum, 
+Xerxes then came himself down to the fleet, that 
+be might consort with the shipmen and hear their 
+opinions. When he was come, and sat enthroned, 
+there appeared before him at his summons the 
+despots of their cities and the leaders of companies 
+from the ships, and they sat according to the 
+
+
+! In ch. 46, where, however, six states are mentioned. 
+
+
+63 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+e N [4 / A 3 Ü ^ 
+ὥς σφι βασιλεὺς ἑκάστῳ τιμὴν ἐδεδώκεε, πρῶτος 
+
+` 6 Q , ΄ ` . M 4 » b] 
+μὲν ὁ Σιδώνιος βασιλεύς, μετὰ δὲ ὁ Τύριος, ἐπὶ 
+
+N 
+δὲ ὦλλοι. ὡς δὲ κόσμῳ ἐπεξῆς ἵζοντο, πέμψας 
+Ξέρξης Μαρδόνιον εἰρώτα ἀποπειρώμενος ἑκάστου 
+εἰ ναυμαχίην ποιέοιτο. 
+
+68. ᾿Επεὶ δὲ περιιὼν εἰρώτα ὁ Μαρδόνιος ἀρξά- 
+μενος ἀπὸ τοῦ Σιδωνίου, οἱ μὲν ἄλλοι κατὰ 
+τὠυτὸ γνώμην ἐξεφέροντο κελεύοντες ναυμαχίην 
+
+/ , 7 \ / εεττ. 6 
+ποιέεσθαι, Αρτεμισίη δὲ τάδε ἔφη. Ειπεῖν μοι 
+
+N / / e SN , r » 
+πρὸς βασιλέα, Μαρδόνιε, ὡς ἐγὼ τάδε λέγω, οὔτε 
+κακίστη γενομένη ἐν τῆσι ναυμαχίησι τῆσι πρὸς 
+Εὐβοίῃ οὔτε ἐλάχιστα ἀποδεξαμένη. -δέσποτα, 
+τῆν δὲ ἐοῦσαν γνώμην με δίκαιον ἐστὶ ἀποδεί- 
+κνυσθαι, τὰ τυγχάνω φρονέουσα ἄριστα ἐς πρήγ- 
+
+’ "^ ^ 
+µατα τὰ cá. καί τοι τάδε λέγω, φείδεο τῶν νεῶν 
+μηδὲ ναυμαχίην ποιέο. οἱ γὰρ ἄνδρες τῶν σῶν 
+ἀνδρῶν κρέσσονες τοσοῦτο εἰσὶ κατὰ θάλασσαν 
+ὅσον ἄνδρες γυναικῶν. τί δὲ πάντως δέει σε 
+
+N 
+ναυμαχίησι ἀνακινδυνεύειν; οὐκ ἔχεις μὲν τὰς 
+- e 
+᾿Αθήνας, τῶν περ εἴνεκα ὀρμήθης στρατεύεσθαι, 
+9 N . 3 € ΄ 3 N / 
+ἔχεις δὲ τὴν ἄλλην Ἑλλάδα; ἐμποδὼν δέ τοι 
+ο) b 7 A / b / 3 ’ 
+ἵσταται οὐδείς" of δέ τοι ἀντέστησαν, ἀπήλλαξαν 
+οὕτω ὡς κείνους ἔπρεπε. τῇ δὲ ἐγὼ δοκέω ἀπο- 
+Βήσεσθαι τὰ τῶν ἀντιπολέμων πρήγματα, τοῦτο 
+7 
+
+φράσω. ἦν μὲν μὴ ἐπειχθῇς ναυμαχίην ποιεύ- 
+μενος, ἀλλὰ τὰς νέας αὐτοῦ ἔχης πρὸς Yn μένων 
+ἢ καὶ προβαίνων ἐς τὴν Ἠελοπόννησον, εὐπετέως 
+τοί δέσποτα χωρήσει τὰ νοέων ἐλήλυθας. οὗ 
+γὰρ οἷοί τε πολλὸν χρόνον εἰσί τοι ἀντέχειν οἱ 
+"Ελληνες, ἀλλὰ σφέας διασκεδᾷς, κατὰ πόλις δὲ 
+ἕκαστοι φεύξονται. οὔτε γὰρ σῖτος πάρα σφι ἐν 
+
+- N 
+τῇ νήσῳ ταύτῃ, ὡς ἐγὼ πυνθάνομαι, οὔτε αὐτοὺς 
+64 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 67-68 
+
+
+honourable rank which the king had granted them 
+severally, first in place the king of Sidon, and next 
+he of ‘Tyre, and then the rest. When they had sat 
+down in order one after another, Xerxes sent Mar- 
+donius and put each to the test by questioning him 
+if the Persian ships should offer battle. 
+
+68. Mardonius went about questioning them, from 
+the Sidonian onwards; and all the rest gave their 
+united voice for offering battle at sea; but Arte- 
+misia said: “Tell the king, I pray you, Mardonius, 
+that I who say this have not been the hindmost in 
+courage or in feats of arms in the fights near Euboea. 
+Nay, master, but it is right that I should declare my 
+opinion, even that which I deem best for your cause. 
+And this I say to you—Spare your ships, and offer 
+no battle at sea ; for their men are as much stronger 
+by sea than yours, as men are stronger than women. 
+And why must you at all costs imperil yourself by 
+fighting battles on the sea? have you not possession 
+of Athens, for the sake of which you set out on this 
+march, and of the rest of Hellas? no man stands in 
+your path ; they that resisted you have come off in 
+such plight as beseemed them. I will show you now 
+what I think will be the course of your enemies' 
+doings. If you make no haste to fight at sea, but 
+keep your ships here and abide near the land, or 
+even go forward into the Peloponnese, then, my 
+master, you will easily gain that end wherefor you 
+have come. For the Greeks are not able to hold 
+out against you for a long time, but you will scatter 
+them, and they will flee each to his city; they have 
+no food in this island, as I am informed, nor, if you 
+
+
+65 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οἰκός, ἣν σὺ ἐπὶ τὴν Πελοπόννησον ἐλαύνῃς τὸν 
+πεζὸν στρατόν, ἀτρεμιεῖν τοὺς ἐκεῖθεν αὐτῶν 
+ἥκοντας, οὐδέ σφι μελοσει πρὸ τῶν ᾿Αθηνέων 
+ναυμαχέειν. ἣν δὲ αὐτίκα ἐπειχθῇς ναυμαχῆσαι, 
+δειμαίνω μὴ ὁ ναυτικὸς στρατὸς κακωθεὶς τὸν 
+πεζὸν προσδηλήσηται. πρὸς δὲ, ὦ Βασιλεῦ, καὶ 
+τόδε ἐς θυμὸν βάλευ, ὡς τοῖσι μὲν χρηστοῖσι 
+τῶν ἀνθρώπων κακοὶ δοῦλοι φιλέουσι γίνεσθαι, 
+τοῖσι δὲ κακοῖσι χρηστοί. σοὶ δὲ ἐόντι ἀρίστῳ 
+ἀνδρῶν πάντων κακοὶ δοῦλοι εἰσί, οἳ ἐν συμμάχων 
+λόγῳ λέγονται εἶναι ἐόντες Αἰγύπτιοί τε καὶ 
+Κύπριοι καὶ Κίλικες καὶ Πάμφυλοι, τῶν ὄφελος 
+ἐστὶ οὐδέν.᾽ 
+
+69. Ταῦτα λεγούσης πρὸς Μαρδόνιον, ὅσοι E 
+ἦσαν εὔνοοι τῇ ᾿Αρτεμισίῃ, συμφορὴν ἐποιεῦντο 
+τοὺς λόγους ὡς κακόν τι πεισομένης πρὸς βασι- 
+λέος, ὅτι οὐκ ča ναυμαχίην ποιέεσθαι' of δὲ 
+ἀγεόμενοί τε καὶ φθονέοντες αὐτῆ, ἅτε ἐν πρώτοισι 
+τετιμημένης διὰ πάντων τῶν συμμάχων, ἐτέρποντο 
+τῇ ἀνακρίσι ὡς ἀπολεομένης αὐτῆς. ἐπεὶ δὲ 
+ἀνηνείχθησαν αἱ γνῶμαι ἐς Ξέρξην, κάρτα τε 
+ἥσθη τῇ γνώμῃ τῇ ᾿Αρτεμισίης, καὶ νομίξων ἔτι 
+πρότερον σπουδαίην εἶναι τότε πολλῷ μᾶλλον 
+αἴνεε. ὅμως δὲ τοῖσι πλέοσι πείθεσθαι ἐκέλευε, 
+τάδε καταδόξας, πρὸς μὲν EvBotn σφέας ἐθελο- 
+κακέειν ὡς ov παρεόντος αὐτοῦ, τότε δὲ αὐτὸς 
+παρεσκεύαστο θεήσασθαι ναυμαχέοντας. 
+
+10. ᾿Επεὶ δὲ παρήγγελλον ἀναπλέειν, ἀνῆγον 
+τὰς νέας ἐπὶ τὴν Σαλαμῖνα καὶ παρεκρίθησαν 
+διαταχθέντες κατ ἡσυχίην. τότε μέν νυν οὐκ 
+ἐξέχρησέ σφι 7) ἡμέρη ναυμαχίην ποιήσασθαι" 
+νὺξ γὰρ ἐπεγένετο' οἳ δὲ παρεσκευάξοντο ἐς τὴν 
+66 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 68-70 
+
+
+lead your army into the Peloponnese, is it likely 
+that those of them who have come from thence will 
+abide unmoved ; they will have no mind to fight 
+sea-battles for Athens. But if you make haste to 
+fight at once on sea, I fear lest your fleet take some 
+hurt and thereby harm your army likewise. More- 
+over, O king, call this to mind—good men's slaves 
+are wont to be evil and bad men's slaves good ; and 
+you, who are the best of all men, have evil slaves, 
+that pass for your allies, men of Egypt and Cyprus 
+and Cilicia and Pamphylia, in whom is no usefulness." 
+
+69. When Artemisia spoke thus to Mardonius, all 
+that were her friends were sorry for her words, 
+thinking that the king would do her some hurt for 
+counselling him against a sea-fight; but they that 
+had ill-will and jealousy against her for the honour 
+in which she was held above all the allies were glad 
+at her answer, thinking it would be her undoing. 
+But when the opinions were reported to Xerxes he 
+was greatly pleased by the opinion of Artemisia; he 
+had ever deemed her a woman of worth and now 
+held her in much higher esteem. Nevertheless he 
+bade the counsel of the more part to be followed ; 
+for he thought that off Euboea his men had been 
+slack fighters by reason of his absence, and now he 
+purposed to watch the battle himself. 
+
+70. When the command to set sail was given, they 
+put out to Salamis and arrayed their line in order 
+at their ease. That day there was not time enough 
+left to offer battle, for the night came; and they 
+made preparation for the next day instead. But the 
+
+67 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+« / \ Nd 5 / N 
+ὑστεραίην. τοὺς δὲ "EXXqvas εἶχε δέος τε καὶ 
+3 / , e bi N 3 N ? 
+ἀρρωδίη, οὐκ ἥκιστα δὲ τοὺς ἀπὸ Πελοποννήσου" 
+ἀρρώδεον δὲ ὅτι αὐτοὶ μὲν ἐν Σαλαμῖνι κατήμενοι 
+ὑπὲρ γῆς τῆς ᾿Αθηναίων ναυμαχέειν μέλλοιεν, 
+νικηθέντες τε ἐν νήσῳ ἀπολαμφθέντες πολιορ- 
+κήσονται, ἀπέντες τὴν ἑωυτῶν ἀφύλακτον: τῶν 
+^ 4 
+δὲ βαρβάρων ὁ πεξὸς ὑπὸ τὴν παρεοῦσαν νύκτα 
+; 
+ἐπορεύετο ἐπὶ τὴν Πελοπόννησον. 
+[4 
+71. Καίτοι τὰ δυνατὰ πάντα ἐμεμηχάνητο 
+e 3 24 N , / M ΄ 
+ὅκως κατ᾽ ἤπειρον μὴ ἐσβάλοιεν οἱ βάρβαροι. 
+ὡς γὰρ ἐπύθοντο τάχιστα Πελοποννήσιοι τοὺς 
+3 X ΄ 3 ΄ / 
+ἀμφὶ Λεωνίδην ἐν Θερμοπύλησι τετελευτηκέναι, 
+’ ^ A 3 N 
+συνδραμόντες ἐκ τῶν πολίων ἐς τὸν ᾿Ισθμὸν ἴζοντο, 
+/ , ^ . a / τ... 
+καί σφι ἐπῆν στρατηγὸς Νλεόμβροτος ὁ ᾿Άνα- 
+/ > , 
+ξανδρίδεω, Λεωνίδεω δὲ ἀδελφεὸς. ἱξόμενοι δὲ 
+- - / 
+ἐν τῷ ᾿Ισθμῷ καὶ συγχώσαντες τὴν Σκιρωνίδα 
+ens . EUR e » / 
+ὁδόν, μετὰ τοῦτο ὥς σφι ἔδοξε βουλευομένοισι, 
+οἰκοδόμεον διὰ τοῦ ᾿Ισθμοῦ τεῖχος. ἅτε δὲ 
+ἐουσέων μυριάδων πολλέων καὶ παντὸς ἀνδρὸς 
+7 N / 
+ἐργαξομένου, ἤνετο τὸ ἔργον: καὶ γὰρ λίθοι καὶ 
+πλίνθοι καὶ ξύλα καὶ φορμοὶ ψάμμον πλήρεες 
+ἐσεφέροντο, καὶ ἐλίνυον οὐδένα χρόνον οἱ Bon- 
+θήσαντες ἐργαζόμενοι, οὔτε νυκτὸς οὔτε ἡμέρης. 
+72. Οἱ δὲ βοηθήσαντες ἐς τὸν ἰσθμὸν πανδημεὶ 
+οἵδε ἦσαν EXXxvov, Λακεδαιμόνιοί τε καὶ ᾿Αρκά- 
+r νο ^ N 7 , s ΣΕ 
+δες πάντες καὶ ᾿Ηλεῖοι καὶ Κορίνθιοι καὶ Ert- 
+4 s ΄ ur z Ne ’ 
+δαύριοι καὶ Φλιάσιοι καὶ Τροιζήνιοι καὶ Ἱϊρμιονέες. 
+οὗτοι μὲν ἦσαν οἱ βοηθήσαντες καὶ ὑπεραρρω- 
+δέοντες τῇ Ελλάδι κινδυνευούσῃ" τοῖσι δὲ ἄλλοισι 
+
+
+1 A track (later made into a regular road) leading to the 
+Isthmus along the face of Geraneia: narrow and even 
+
+
+68 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 70-72 
+
+
+Greeks were in fear and dread, and especially they 
+that were from the Peloponnese; and the cause of 
+their fear was, that they themselves were about to 
+fight for the Athenians country where they lay at 
+Salamis, and if they were overcome they must be 
+shut up and beleaguered in an island, leaving their 
+own land unguarded. At the next nightfall, the 
+land army of the foreigners began its march to the 
+Peloponnese. 
+
+ΤΙ. Nathless the Greeks had used every device 
+possible to prevent the foreigners from breaking in 
+upon them by land. Foras soon as the Peloponnesians 
+heard that Leonidas’ men at Thermopylae were dead, 
+they hasted together from their cities and eneamped 
+on the Isthmus, their general being the brother of 
+Leonidas, Cleombrotus son of Anaxandrides. Being 
+there encamped they broke up the Seironian road,! 
+and thereafter built a wall aeross the Isthmus, 
+having resolved in council so to do. As there were 
+many tens of thousands there and all men wrought, 
+the work was brought to accomplishment; for they 
+carried stones to it and bricks and logs and crates 
+full of sand, and they that mustered there never 
+rested from their work by night or by day. 
+
+72. Those Greeks that mustered all their people 
+at the Isthmus were the Lacedaemonians and all 
+the Areadians, the Eleans, Corinthians, Sicyonians, 
+Epidaurians, Phliasians, Troezenians, and men of 
+Hermione. These were they who mustered there, 
+and were moved by great fear for Hellas in her 
+peril; but the rest of the Peloponnesians eared 
+
+
+dangerous for some six miles, and very easily made 
+impassable. 
+
+
+69 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Πελοποννησίοισι ἔμελε οὐδέν. Ὀλύμπια δὲ καὶ 
+Ιζάρνεια παροιχώκεε Ἴδη. 
+
+18. Οἰκέει δὲ τὴν Πελοπόννησον ἔθνεα ἑπτά. 
+τούτων δὲ τὰ μὲν δύο αὐτόχθονα ἐόντα κατὰ 
+χώρην. ἵδρυται νῦν τε καὶ τὸ πάλαι οἴκεον, 
+᾿Αρκάδες τε καὶ Kuvovptou èv δὲ ἔθνος τὸ ᾿Αχαιῖ- 
+κὸν ἐκ μεν Πελοποννήσου οὐκ ἐξεχώρησε, ἐκ 
+μέντοι τῆς ἑωυτῶν, οἰκέει δὲ τὴν ἀλλοτρίην. τὰ 
+δὲ λοιπὰ ἔθνεα τῶν ἑπτὰ τέσσερα ἐπήλυδα ἐστί, 
+Δωριέες τε καὶ Αἰτωλοὶ καὶ Δρύοπες καὶ Λήμνιοι. 
+Δωριέων μὲν πολλαί τε καὶ δόκιμοι πόλιες, 
+Αἰτωλῶν δὲ Ἠλις μούνη, Δρυόπων. 66 Ἑρμιών 
+τε καὶ ᾿Ασίνη ἡ πρὸς Καρδαμύλῃ τ τῇ Λακωνικῇ, 
+Λημνίων δὲ Παρωρεῆται πάντες. οἱ δὲ Κυνούριοι 
+αὐτόχθονες ἐόντες δοκέουσι μοῦνοι εἶναι Ίωνες, 
+ἐκδεδωρίευνται δὲ ὑπό τε ᾿Αργείων ἀρχόμενοι καὶ 
+τοῦ χρόνου, ἐόντες ᾿Ὀρνεῆται καὶ οἱ περίοικοι. 
+τούτων ὧν τῶν ἑπτὰ ἐθνέων αἱ λοιπαὶ πόλιες, 
+πάρεξ τῶν κατέλεξα, ἐκ τοῦ μέσου κατέατο' εἰ δὲ 
+ος. ἔξεστι εἰπεῖν, ἐκ τοῦ μέσου κατήμενοι 
+ἐμήδιξον. 
+
+14. Οἳ μὲν δὴ ἐν τῷ Ἰσθμῷ τοιούτῳ πόνῳ 
+συνέστασαν, ἅτε περὶ τοῦ παντὸς ἤδη δρόμου 
+θέοντες καὶ τῇσι νηυσὶ οὐκ ἐλπίξοντες ἐλλάμψε- 
+σθαι' ot δὲ ἐ ἐν Σαλαμῖνι ὅ ὅμως ταῦτα πυνθανόμενοι 
+ἀρρώδεον, οὐκ οὕτω περὶ σφίσι αὐτοῖσι δει- 
+μαίνοντες ὡς περὶ τῇ Πελοποννήσῳ. τέως μὲν 
+δὴ αὐτῶν ἀνὴρ ἀνδρὶ παραστὰς oiy λόγον 
+ἐποιέετο, θῶμα ποιεύμενοι τὴν Εὐρυβιάδεω ἀβου- 
+λίην' τέλος δὲ ἐξερράγη ἐς τὸ μέσον. σύλλογός 
+τε δὴ ἐγίνετο καὶ πολλὰ ἐλέγετο περὶ τῶν αὐτῶν, 
+
+
+70 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 72-74 
+
+
+nothing ; and the Olympian and Carnean festivals 
+were now past.! 
+
+73. Seven nations inhabit the Peloponnese; two 
+of these, the Arcadians and Cynurians, are native to 
+the soil and are now settled where they have ever 
+been; and one nation, the Achaean, has never 
+departed from the Peloponnese, but has left its 
+own country and dwells in another. The four that 
+remain of the seven have come from elsewhere, 
+namely, the Dorians and Aetolians and Dryopians 
+and Lemnians; the Dorians have many notable 
+cities, the Aetolians Elis alone ; the Dryopians have 
+Hermione and that Asine which is near Cardamyle 
+of Laconia; and the Lemnians, all the Paroreatae. 
+The Cynurians are held to be Ionians, and the only 
+Ionians native to the soil, but their Argive masters 
+and time have made Dorians of them; they are the 
+people of Orneae and the country round. Now of 
+these seven nations all the cities, save those afore- 
+said, sat apart from the war; and if I may speak 
+freely, by so doing they took the part of the enemy. 
+
+74. So the Greeks on the Isthmus had such labour 
+to cope withal, seeing that now all they had was at 
+stake, and they had no hope of winning renown 
+with their ships; but they that were at Salamis, 
+although they heard of the work, were affrighted, 
+and their dread was less for themselves than for the 
+Peloponnese. Fora while there was but murmuring 
+between man and man, and wonder at Eurybiades’ 
+unwisdom, but at the last came an open outbreak ; 
+and an assembly was held, where there was much 
+speaking of the same matters as before, some saying 
+
+
+1 That is, there was no longer any excuse for their not 
+coming. Cp. vii. 205. 
+
+
+ZI 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+of μὲν ὡς ἐς τὴν Πελοπόννησον χρεὸν εἴη arno- 
+πλέειν καὶ περὶ ἐκείνης κινδυνεύειν μηδὲ πρὸ 
+χώρης δοριαλώτου μένοντας μάχεσθαι, ᾿Αθηναῖοι 
+δὲ καὶ Αἰγινῆται καὶ Μεγαρέες αὐτοῦ μένοντας 
+ἀμύνεσθαι. 
+
+TB. ᾿Ενθαῦτα Θεμιστοκλέης ὡς ἑσσοῦτο TH 
+γνώμῃ ὑπὸ τῶν Πελοποννησίων, λαθὼν ἐξέρχεται 
+ἐκ τοῦ συνεδρίου, ἐξελθὼν δὲ πέμπει ἐς τὸ στρα- 
+τόπεδον τὸ Μήδων ἄνδρα πλοίῳ ἐντειλάμενος τὰ 
+Ἀέγειν χρεόν, τῷ οὔνομα μὲν ἣν Σίκιννος, οἰκέτης 
+δὲ καὶ παιδαγωγὸς ἡ ἣν τῶν Θεμιστοκλέος παίδων' 
+τὸν δὴ ὕστερον τούτων τῶν πρηγμάτων Oep- 
+στοκλέης Θεσπιέα τε ἐποίησε, ὡς ἐπεδέκοντο οἱ 
+Θεσπιέες πολιήτας, καὶ χρήμασι ὄλβιον. ὃς τότε 
+πλοίῳ ἀπικόμενος ἔλεγε πρὸς τοὺς στρατηγοὺς 
+τῶν Βαρβάρων τώδε. τ Ἐπεμψέ µε στρατηγὸς o 
+᾿Αθηναίων λάθρῃ τῶν ἄλλων Ελλήνων (τυγχάνει 
+γάρ φρονέων τὰ βασιλέος καὶ βουλόμενος μᾶλλον 
+τὰ ὑμέτερα κατύπερθε γίνεσθαι ἢ 7 τὰ τῶν Ελλήνων 
+πρήγματα) φράσοντα ὅτι οἱ Ελληνες δρησμὸν 
+βουλεύονται καταρρωδηκότες, καὶ νῦν παρέχει 
+κάλλιστον ὑμέας ἔργων ἁπάντων ἐξεργάσασθαι, 
+ἣν μὴ περιίδητε διαδράντας αὐτούς. οὔτε γὰρ 
+ἀλλήλοισι ὁμοφρονέουσι οὔτε ἀντιστήσονται ὑμῖν, 
+πρὸς ἑωυτούς τε σφέας ὄψεσθε ναυμαχέοντας τοὺς 
+τὰ ὑμέτερα φρονέοντας καὶ τοὺς μή. 
+
+16. Ὃ μὲν ταῦτά σφι σημήνας ἐκποδὼν ἀπαλ- 
+λάσσετο' τοῖσι δὲ ὡς πιστὰ ἐγίνετο τὰ ἀγγελ- 
+θέντα, τοῦτο μὲν ἐς τὴν νησῖδα τὴν Ὑυττάλειαν, 
+μεταξὺ Σαλαμῖνός τε κειμένην καὶ τῆς ἠπείρου, 
+πολλοὺς τῶν Περσέων ἀπεβιβάσαντο" τοῦτο δέ, 
+ἐπειδὴ ἐγίνοντο μέσαι νύκτες, ἀνῆγον μὲν τὸ ἀπ᾽ 
+
+
+72 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 74-76 
+
+
+that they must sail away to the Peloponnese and face 
+danger for that country, rather than abide and fight 
+for a land won from them by the spear; but the 
+Athenians and Aeginetans and Megarians pleading 
+that they should remain and defend themselves 
+where they were. 
+
+15. Then Themistocles, when the Peloponnesians 
+were outvoting him, went privily out of the assembly, 
+and sent to the Median fleet a man in a boat, charged 
+with a message that he must deliver. This man's 
+name was Sicinnus, and he was of Themistocles' 
+household and attendant on his children ; at a later 
+day, when the Thespians were receiving men to be 
+their citizens, Themistocles made him a Thespian, 
+and a wealthy man withal. He now came in a boat 
+and spoke thus to the foreigners’ admirals: “I am 
+sent by the admiral of the Athenians without the 
+knowledge of the other Greeks (he being a friend 
+to the king's cause and desiring that you rather than 
+the Greeks should have the mastery) to tell you that 
+the Greeks have lost heart and are planning flight, 
+and that now is the hour for you to achieve an 
+incomparable feat of arms, if you suffer them not to 
+escape. For there is no union in their counsels, nor 
+will they withstand you any more, and you will see 
+them battling against each other, your friends against 
+your foes.” 
+
+76. With that declaration he departed away. The 
+Persians put faith in the message; and first they 
+landed many of their men on the islet Psyttalea, 
+which lies between Salamis and the mainland ; then, 
+at midnight, they advanced their western wing 
+
+
+13 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἑσπέρης κέρας κυκλούμενοι πρὸς τὴν Σαλαμῖνα, 
+ἀνῆγον δὲ οἱ ἀμφὶ τὴν Kéov τε καὶ τὴν Kvvócovpav 
+τεταγμένοι, κατεῖχόν τε μέχρι Μουννχίης πάντα 
+τὸν πορθμὸν τῆσι νηυσί. τῶνδε δὲ εἵνεκα ἀνῆγον 
+τὰς νέας, ἵνα δὴ τοῖσι Ἕλλησι μηδὲ φυγεῖν ἐξῇ, 
+ἀλλ᾽ ἀπολαμφθέντες ἐν τῇ Σαλαμῖνι δοῖεν τίσιν 
+τῶν ἐπ᾿ ᾿Αρτεμισίῳ ἀγωνισμάτων. ἐς δὲ τὴν 
+νησῖδα τὴν Ὑυττάλειαν καλεομένην ἀπεβίβαζον 
+τῶν Περσέων τῶνδε εἵνεκεν, ὡς ἐπεὰν γίνηται 
+ναυμαχίη, ἐνθαῦτα μάλιστα ἐξοισομένων τῶν τε 
+ἀνδρῶν καὶ τῶν ναυηγίων (ἐν γὰρ δὴ πόρῳ τῆς 
+ναυμαχίης τῆς μελλούσης ἔσεσθαι ἔκειτο ἡ 
+νῆσος), ἵνα τοὺς μὲν περιποιέωσι τοὺς δὲ δια- 
+φθείρωσι. ἐποίευν δὲ σιγῇ ταῦτα, ὡς μὴ πυνθα- 
+νοίατο οἱ ἐναντίοι. οἱ μὲν δὴ ταῦτα τῆς νυκτὸς 
+οὐδὲν ἀποκοιμηθέντες παραρτέοντο. 
+
+77. Χρησμοῖσι δὲ οὐκ ἔχω ἀντιλέγειν ὡς οὐκ 
+εἰσὶ ἀληθέες, οὐ βουλόμενος ἐναργέως λέγοντας 
+πειρῆσθαι καταβάλλειν, ἐς τοιάδε πρήγματα ! 
+
+
+ἐσβλέψας. 
+
+
+ἀλλ᾽ ὅταν ᾿Αρτέμιδος χρυσαόρου ἱερὸν ἀκτήν 
+νηυσὶ γεφυρώσωσι καὶ εἰναλίην Κυνόσουραν 
+ἐλπίδι μαινομένῃ, λιπαρὰς πέρσαντες ᾿Αθήνας, 
+δία δίκη σβέσσει κρατερὸν κόρον, ὕβριος υἱόν, 
+δεινὸν μαιμώοντα, δοκεῦντ᾽ ἀνὰ πάντα πίεσθαι. 
+
+
+1 ῥήματα is suggested, and would certainly be more natural. 
+
+
+1 For a brief notice of controversy respecting the operations 
+off Salamis. see the Introduction to this volume. The locality 
+of Ceos and Cynosura is conjectural. 
+
+
+74 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 76-77 
+
+
+towards Salamis for encirclement, and they too put 
+out to sea that were stationed off Ceos and Cynosura ; 
+and they held all the passage with their ships as far 
+as Munychia.! The purpose of their putting out to 
+sea was, that the Greeks might have no liberty even 
+to flee, but should be hemmed in at Salamis and 
+punished for their fighting off Artemisium. And 
+the purpose of their landing Persians on the islet 
+called Psyttalea was this, that as it was here in 
+especial that in the sea fight men and wrecks would 
+be washed ashore (for the island lay in the very path 
+of the battle that was to be), they might thus save 
+their friends and slay their foes. ΛΙ] this they did in 
+silence, lest their enemies should know of it. So they 
+made these preparations in the night, taking no rest. 
+
+77. But, for oracles, I have no way of gainsaying 
+their truth; for they speak clearly, and I would 
+not essay to overthrow them, when I look into such 
+matter as this: 
+
+
+* When that with lines of ships thy sacred coasts 
+
+they have fencéd, 
+
+Artemis? golden-sworded, and thine, sea-washed 
+Cynosura, 
+
+All in the madness of hope, having ravished the 
+glory of Athens, 
+
+Then shall desire full fed, by pride o'erweening 
+engendered, 
+
+Raging in dreadful wrath and athirst for the 
+nations’ destruction, 
+
+Utterly perish and fall; for the justice of heaven 
+shall quench it ; 
+
+
+* There were temples of Artemis both at Salamis and at 
+Munychia on the Attic shore. 
+
+
+75 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+N N ^ / er ,»» 
+χαλκὸς γὰρ χαλκῷ συμμίξεται, αἵματι δ Άρης 
+πόντον φοινίξει. TOT ἐλεύθερον “Ιλλλάδος ἦμαρ 
+εὐρύοπα Κρονίδης ἐπάγει καὶ πότνια Νίκη. 
+
+
+3 ^ N ^ er , / / ’ 
+ἐς τοιαῦτα μὲν καὶ οὕτω ἐναργέως λέγοντι Βάκιδι 
+, ^ / b / 
+ἀντιλογίης χρησμῶν πέρι οὔτε αὐτὸς λέγειν 
+[4 5 » »y , / 
+τολμέω οὔτε παρ ἄλλων ἐνδέκομαι. 
+- ` ^ ^ / 
+78. Τῶν δὲ ἐν Σαλαμῖνι στρατηγῶν ἐγίνετο 
+9 ^ [4 [4 MA . » er 
+ὠθισμὸς λόγων πολλός: ἤδεσαν δὲ οὔκω ὅτι 
+[4 - ^ e { 
+σφέας περιεκυκλοῦντο τῆσι νηυσὶ οἱ βάρβαροι, 
+, , 7 ^ M , 
+ἀλλ. ὥσπερ τῆς ἡμέρης ὥρων αὐτοὺς τεταγμένους, 
+’ , 5 
+ἐδόκεον κατὰ χώρην εἶναι. 
+- ^ ? 
+79. Συνεστηκότων δὲ τῶν στρατηγῶν, ἐξ Λἰγίνης 
+, / M ^ 
+διέβη ᾿Αριστείδης ὁ Λυσιμάχου, ἀνὴρ ᾿Αθηναῖος 
+/ \ b ^ \ 
+μὲν ἐξωστρακισμένος δὲ ὑπὸ τοῦ δήµου: τὸν ἐγὼ 
+, ^ [4 
+νενόμικα, TUVOAVOMEVOS αὐτοῦ τὸν τρόπον, ἄριστον 
+» / 3 3 / ν , 
+ἄνδρα γενέσθαι ἐν ᾿Αθήνησι καὶ δικαιότατον. 
+© e * X 3 N * ’ 3 f 
+οὗτος ὠνὴρ στὰς ἐπὶ τὸ συνέδριον ἐξεκαλέετο 
+/ 3’ \ e ^ , [A , λ 
+Θεμιστοκλέα, ἐόντα μὲν ἑωυτῷ οὐ φίλον ἐχθρὸν 
+` N 7 [4 z ^ Π 
+δὲ τὰ μάλιστα’ ὑπὸ δὲ μεγάθεος τῶν παρεόντων 
+^ ’ , PF f , / / 
+κακῶν λήθην ἐκείνων ποιεύμενος ἐξεκαλέετο, θέλων 
+^ ^ [4 e? , 
+αὐτῶ συμμῖξαι: Tpoakkoee δὲ ὅτι σπεύδοιεν οἱ 
+, Ng / , / x [4 `N X 
+ἀπὸ Πελοποννήσου ἀνάγειν τὰς νέας πρὸς τὸν 
+e . 9 fo m M 
+'Ja0uóv. ὡς δὲ ἐξῆλθέ οἱ Θεμιστοκλέης, ἔλεγε 
+3 / {ὃ εί / ΄ [4 5 
+Αριστείδης τάδε. “'Ημέας στασιάζειν χρεὸν ἐστι 
+, ^ ^ \ \ , ^ ^ 
+ἔν τε τῷ ἄλλῳ καιρῷ καὶ δὴ καὶ ἐν τῷδε περὶ τοῦ 
+ο e / N 
+ὁκότερος ἡμέων πλέω ἀγαθὰ τὴν πατρίδα ἐργά- 
+/ ’ e7 » 7 \ / `~ 
+σεται. λέγω δέ τοι OTL ἴσον ἐστὶ πολλά τε καὶ 
+’ ` , me Ὁ A 
+ὀλίγα λέγειν περὶ ἀποπλόου τοῦ ἐνθεῦτεν [[ελο- 
+
+
+76 
+
+
+BOOK VIIL 77-79 
+
+
+Bronze upon bronze shall clash, and the terrible 
+bidding of Ares 
+
+Redden the seas with blood. But Zeus far-seeing, 
+and hallowed 
+
+Victory then shall grant that Freedom dawn upon 
+Hellas." 
+
+
+Looking at such matter and seeing how clear is 
+the utterance of Bacis, I neither venture myself to 
+gainsay him as touching oracles nor suffer such 
+gainsaying by others. 
+
+78. But among the admirals at Salamis there was 
+a hot bout of argument; and they knew not as yet 
+that the foreigners had drawn their ships round 
+them, but supposed the enemy to be still where they 
+had seen him stationed in the daylight. 
+
+το. But as they contended, there crossed over from 
+Aegina Aristides son of Lysimachus, an Athenian, 
+but one that had been ostracised by the commonalty ; 
+from that which I have learnt of his way of life I am 
+myself well persuaded that he was the best and the 
+justest man at Athens. He then came and stood in 
+the place of council and called Themistocles out of 
+it, albeit Themistocles was no friend of his but his 
+chiefest enemy ; but in the stress of the present 
+danger he put that old feud from his mind, and so 
+called Themistocles out, that he might converse 
+with him. Now he had heard already, that the 
+Peloponnesians desired to sail to the Isthmus. So 
+when Themistocles came out, Aristides said, “ Let 
+the rivalry between us be now as it has been before, 
+to see which of us two shall do his country more 
+good. I tell you now, that it is all one for the 
+Peloponnesians to talk much or little about sailing 
+
+
+77 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ποννησίο: σι. ἐγὼ γὰρ αὐτόπτης τοι λέγω γενό- 
+μενος ὅτι νῦν οὐδ᾽ ἣν. θέλωσι Κορίνθιοί τε καὶ 
+αὐτὸς Εὐρυβιάδης οἷοί τε ἔσονται ἐκπλῶσαι' 
+περιεχόµεθα γὰρ ὑπὸ τῶν πολεμίων κύκλῳ. GAN 
+ἐσελθών σφι ταῦτα σήμηνον.’ ὃ δ᾽ ἀμείβετο 
+τοῖσιδε. 
+
+80. “Κάρτα τε χρηστὰ διακελεύεαι καὶ εὖ 
+ἤγγειλας" τὰ γὰρ ἐγώ ἐδεόμην γενέσθαι, αὐτὸς 
+αὐτόπτης γενόμενος ἥκεις. ἴσθι γὰρ ἐξ ἐμέο τὰ 
+ποιεύμενα ὑπὸ Μήδων: ἔδεε γάρ, ὅτε οὐκ ἑκόντες 
+ἤθελον ἐς μάχην κατίστασθαι οἱ ."Ελληνες, 
+ἀέκοντας παραστήσασθαι. σὺ δὲ ἐπεί περ ἥκεις 
+χρηστὰ ἀπαγγέλλων, αὐτός σφι ἄγγειλον. ἣν 
+γὰρ ἐγὼ. αὐτὰ λέγω, δόξω πλάσας λέγειν καὶ οὐ 
+πείσω, ὡς οὐ ποιεύντων τῶν βαρβάρων. ταῦτα. 
+ἀλλά σφι σήμηνον αὐτὸς παρελθὼν ὡς ἔχει. 
+ἐπεὰν δὲ σημήνῃς, ἣν μὲν πείθωνται, ταῦτα δὴ 
+τὰ κάλλιστα, ἣν δὲ αὐτοῖσι μὴ πιστὰ γένηται, 
+ὅμοιον ἡμῖν ἔσται" οὐ γὰρ ἔτι διαδρήσονται, εἴ 
+περ περιεχόµεθα πανταχόθεν, ὡς σὺ λέγεις.” 
+
+81. ᾿Ιὐνθαῦτα ἔλεγε παρελθὼν ὁ ᾿Δριστείδης, 
+φάμενος ἐξ Αἰγίνης, τε ἥκειν καὶ μόγις ἐκπλῶσαι 
+λαθὼν τοὺς ἐπορμέοντας' περιέχεσθαι γὰρ πᾶν 
+τὸ στρατόπεδον τὸ ᾿Ιὐλληνικὸν ὑπὸ τῶν νεῶν τῶν 
+Ξέρξεω: παραρτέεσθαέ τε συνεβούλευε ὡς ἀλε- 
+ξησομένους. καὶ ὃ μὲν ταῦτα εἴπας μετεστήκεε, 
+τῶν δὲ αὖτις ἐγίνετο λόγων ἀμφισβασίη' οἱ γὰρ 
+πλεῦνες τῶν στρατηγῶν οὐκ ἐπείθοντο τὰ 
+ἐσαγγελθέντα. 
+
+82. ᾽Απιστεόντων δὲ τούτων ἧκε τριήρης ἀνδρῶν 
+Τηνίων αὐτομολέουσα, τῆς ἦρχε ἀνὴρ Παναίτιος 
+ὁ Σωσιμένεος, ἥ περ δὴ ἔφερε τὴν ἀληθείην πᾶσαν. 
+78 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 79-82 
+
+
+away from hence; for I say from that which my 
+eyes have seen that now even if the Corinthians and 
+Eurybiades himself desire to sail out, they cannot; 
+we are hemmed in on all sides by our enemies. Do 
+you go in now, and tell them this." 
+
+80. * Your exhortation is right useful," Themis- 
+tocles answered, “and your news is good; for you 
+have come with your own eyes for witnesses of that 
+whieh I desired might happen. Know that what 
+the Medes do is of my contriving; for when the 
+Greeks would not of their own accord prepare for 
+battle, it was needful to force them to it willy-nilly. 
+But now since you have come with this good news, 
+give your message to them yourself. If I tell it, 
+they will think it is of my own devising, and they 
+will never take my word for it that the foreigners 
+are doing as you say ; nay, go before them yourself 
+and tell them how it stands. When you have told 
+them, if they believe you, that is best; but if they 
+will not believe you, it will be the same thing to us; 
+for if we are hemmed in on every side, as you say, 
+they will no longer be able to take to flight." 
+
+81. Aristides then came forward and told them; 
+he was come, he said, from Aegina, and had been 
+hard put to it to slip unseen through the blockade ; 
+for all the Greek fleet was compassed round by 
+Xerxes' ships, and they had best (he said) prepare 
+to defend themselves. Thus he spoke, and took his 
+departure. They fell a-wrangling again; for the 
+more part of the admirals would not believe that the 
+news was true. 
+
+82. But while they yet disbelieved, there came a 
+trireme with Tenian deserters, whose captain was 
+one Panaetius son of Sosimenes, and this brought 
+
+
+19 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+διὰ δὲ τοῦτο τὸ ἔργον ἐνεγράφησαν Τήνιοι ἐν 
+Ἀελφοῖσι ἐς τὸν τρίποδα ἐν τοῖσι τὸν βάρβαρον 
+κατελοῦσι. σὺν δὲ ὧν ταύτῃ τῇ νηὶ τῇ αὐτο- 
+μολησάση ἐς Σαλαμῖνα καὶ τῇ πρότερον ἐπ᾽ 
+᾿Αρτεμίσιον τῇ Anpvin ἐξεπληροῦτο τὸ ναυτικὸν 
+τοῖσι "[Ἅλησι ἐς τὰς ὀγδώκοντα καὶ τριηκοσίας 
+νέας: δύο γὰρ δὴ νεῶν τότε κατέδεε ἐς τὸν 
+ἀριθμόν. 
+
+83. Τοῖσι δὲ"Ελλησι ὡς πιστὰ δὴ τὰ λεγόμενα 
+ἣν τῶν Ῥηνίων ῥήματα, παρεσκευάζοντο ὡς vav- 
+µαχήσοντες. NWS TE διέφαινε καὶ οἳ σύλλογον 
+τῶν ἐπιβατέων ποιησάμενοι, προηγόρευε εὖ ) ἔχοντα 
+μὲν ἐκ πάντων Θεμιστοκλέης, τὰ δὲ ἔπεα ἣν 
+πάντα κρέσσω τοῖσι ἥσσοσι ἀντιτιθέμενα, ὅσα 
+δὴ ἐν ἀνθρώπου φύσι καὶ καταστάσι ἐγγίνεται’ 
+παραινέσας δὲ τούτων τὰ κρέσσω αἱρέεσθαι καὶ 
+καταπλέξας τὴν ῥῆσιν, ἐσβαίνειν ἐκέλευε ἐς τὰς 
+νέας. καὶ οὗτοι μὲν δὴ ἐσέβαινον, καὶ ἧκε ἡ 
+ἀπ᾽ Αἰγίνης τριήρης, ἣ κατὰ τοὺς Αἰακίδας 
+ἀπεδήμησε. 
+
+84. ᾿Ενθαῦτα ἀνῆγον τὰς νέας ἁπάσας" Ελληνες, 
+ἀναγομένοισι δέ σφι αὐτίκα ἐπεκέατο οἱ βάρ- 
+βαροι. οἱ μὲν δὴ ἄλλοι "Ελληνες ἐπὶ πρύμνην 
+ἀνεκρούοντο. καὶ ὤκελλον τὰς νέας, ᾽Αμεινίης δὲ 
+Παλληνεὺς à ἀνὴρ ᾿Αθηναῖος ἐξαναχθεὶς νηὶ ἐμβάλ- 
+λει’ συμπλακείσης δὲ τῆς νεὸς καὶ οὐ δυναμένων 
+ἀπαλλαγῆναι, οὕτω δὴ οἱ ἄλλοι ᾽Αμεινίῃ Bon- 
+θέοντες συνέμισγον. ᾿Αθηναῖοι μὲν οὕτω λέγουσι 
+τῆς ναυμαχίης γενέσθαι τὴν ἀρχήν, Αἰγινῆται δὲ 
+τὴν κατὰ τοὺς Αἰακίδας ἀποδημήσασαν ἐς Αἴγιναν, 
+ταύτην εἶναι τὴν ἄρξασαν. λέγεται δὲ καὶ τάδε, 
+ὡς φάσμα σφι γυναικὸς ἐφάνη, φανεῖσαν δὲ διακε- 
+δο 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 82-84 
+
+
+them the whole truth. For that deed the men of 
+Tenos were engraved on the tripod at Delphi 
+among those that had vanquished the foreigner. 
+With this ship that deserted to Salamis and the 
+Lemnian which had already deserted to Artemisium, 
+the Greek fleet, which had fallen short by two of 
+three hundred and eighty, now attained to that full 
+number. 
+
+83. The Greeks, believing at last the tale of the 
+Tenians, made ready for battle. It was now earliest 
+dawn, and they called the fighting men to an 
+assembly, wherein Themistocles made an harangue 
+in which he excelled all others; the tenor of his 
+words was to array all the good in man's nature 
+and estate against the evil; and having exhorted 
+them to choose the better, he made an end of 
+speaking and bade them embark. Even as they so 
+did, came the trireme from Aegina which had been 
+sent away for the Sons of Aeacus.! 
+
+84. With that the Greeks stood out to sea in full 
+force, and as they stood out the foreigners straight- 
+way fell upon them. The rest of the Greeks began 
+to back water and beach their ships; but Aminias of 
+Pallene, an Athenian, pushed out to the front and 
+charged a ship; which being entangled with his, 
+and the two not able to be parted, the others did 
+now come to Aminias’ aid and joined battle. This 
+is the Athenian story of the beginning of the fight ; 
+but the Aeginetans say that the ship which began 
+it was that one which had been sent away to 
+Aegina for the Sons of Aeacus. This story also is 
+told,—that they saw the vision of a woman, who 
+
+
+1 ορ. 64. 
+81 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+λεύσασθαι ὥστε καὶ ἅπαν ἀκοῦσαι τὸ τῶν 
+Ἑλλήνων στρατόπεδον, ὀνειδίσασαν πρότερον 
+τάδε, “COQ δαιμόνιοι, μέχρι κόσου ἔτι πρύμνην 
+ἀνακρούεσθε ; ' 
+
+85. Κατὰ μὲν δὴ ᾿Αθηναίους ἐτετάχατο Φοίνικες 
+(οὗτοι γὰρ εἶχον τὸ πρὸς 'EXevotvos τε καὶ 
+ἑσπέρης κέρας), κατὰ δὲ Λακεδαιμονίους Ἴωνες" 
+οὗτοι Ò εἶχον τὸ πρὸς τὴν ἠῶ τε καὶ τὸν Πειραιέα. 
+ἐθελοκάκεον μέντοι αὐτῶν κατὰ τὰς Θεμιστοκλέος 
+ἐντολὰς ὀλίγοι, οἱ δὲ πλεῦνες οὔ. ἔχω μέν νυν 
+συχνῶν οὐνόματα τριηράρχων καταλέξαι τῶν 
+νέας Ἑλληνίδας ἑλόντων, χρήσομαι δὲ αὐτοῖσι 
+οὐδὲν πλὴν Θεομήστορός τε τοῦ ᾿Ανδροδάμαντος 
+καὶ Φυλάκου τοῦ Ἱστιαίου, Σαμίων ἀμφοτέρων. 
+τοῦδε δὲ εἵνεκα μέμνημαι τούτων μούνων, ὅτι 
+Θεομήστωρ μὲν διὰ τοῦτο τὸ ἔργον Σάμου ἐτυ- 
+ράννευσε καταστησάντων τῶν Περσέων, Φύλακος 
+δὲ εὐεργέτης Βασιλέος ἀνεγράφη καὶ χώρῃ, έδω- 
+ρήθη πολλῇ. οἱ δ᾽ εὐεργέται βασιλέος ὀροσάγγαι 
+καλέονται περσιστί. 
+
+86. Περὶ μέν νυν τούτους οὕτω εἶχε: τὸ δὲ 
+πλῆθος τῶν νεῶν ἐν τῇ Σαλαμῖνι ἐκεραῖζετο, 
+at μὲν ὑπ᾽ ᾿Αθηναίων διαφθειρόµεναι al δὲ ὑπ᾽ 
+Αἰγινητέων. are yap τῶν μὲν Ἑλλήνων σὺν 
+κόσμῳ ναυμαχεόντων καὶ κατὰ τάξιν, τῶν δὲ 
+βαρβάρων οὔτε τεταγμένων. ἔτι οὔτε σὺν νόῳ 
+ποιεόντων οὐδέν, ἔμελλε τοιοῦτό σφι συνοίσεσθαι 
+οἷόν περ ἀπέβη. καύτοι iyo ay ye Kal ἐγένοντο 
+ταύτην τὴν ἡμέρην μακρῷ ἀμείνονες αὐτοὶ ἑωυτῶν 
+ἢ πρὸς Εὐβοίῃ, πᾶς τις προθυμεόμενος καὶ 
+δειμαίνων "Ξέρξην, ἐδόκεέ τε ἕκαστος ἑωυτὸν 
+θεήσασθαι βασιλέα. 
+
+82 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 84-86 
+
+
+cried commands loud enough for all the Greek fleet 
+to hear, uttering first this reproach, “5115, what 
+madness is this ? how long will you still be backing 
+water?" 
+
+85. The Phoenicians (for they had the western 
+wing, towards Eleusis) were arrayed opposite to the 
+Athenians, and to the Lacedaemonians the Ionians, 
+on the eastern wing, nearest to Piraeus. Yet but 
+few of them fought slackly, as Themistocles had 
+bidden them, and the more part did not so. Many 
+names I could record of ships’ captains that took 
+Greek ships; but I will speak of none save Theomestor 
+son of Androdamas and Phylaeus son of Histiaeus, 
+Samians both; and I make mention of these alone, 
+because Theomestor was for this feat of arms made 
+by the Persians despot of Samos, and Phylacus was 
+recorded among the king's benefactors and given 
+much laud. These benefactors of the king are called 
+in the Persian language, orosangae.! 
+
+86. Thus it was with these two; but the great 
+multitude of the ships were shattered at Salamis, 
+some destroyed by the Athenians and some by the 
+Aeginetans. Forsincethe Greeks fought orderly and 
+in array, but the foreigners were by now disordered 
+and did nought of set purpose, it was but reason 
+that they should come to such an end as befel 
+them. Yet on that day they were and approved 
+themselves by far better men than off Euboea ; all 
+were zealous, and feared Xerxes, each man thinking 
+that the king's eye was on him. 
+
+
+1 Perhaps from old Persian var, to guard, and Kshayata, 
+king; or, as Rawlinson suggests, from Ahur sangha (Zend) 
+= worthy of praise or record. (How and Wells’ note.) 
+
+
+83 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+87. Κατὰ μὲν δὴ τοὺς ἄλλους οὐκ ἔχω µετε- 
+ξετέρους εἰπεῖν ἀτρεκέως ὡς ἕκαστοι τῶν βαρ- 
+βάρων ἢ τῶν Ἑλλήνων ἠγωνίζοντο: κατὰ δὲ 
+᾿Ἀρτεμισίην τάδε ἐγένετο, ἀπ᾽ ὧν εὐδοκίμησε 
+μᾶλλον ἔτι παρὰ βασιλέι. ἐπειδὴ γὰρ ἐς θόρυβον 
+πολλὸν ἀπίκετο τὰ βασιλέος πρήγματα, ἐν τούτῳ 
+τῷ KAUPO ἡ νηῦς ἡ. ᾿Αρτεμισίης ἐδιώκετο ὑπὸ νεὸς 
+᾿Αττικῆς: καὶ ἣ οὐκ ἔχουσα διαφυγεῖν, ἔμπροσθε 
+γὰρ αὐτῆς ἦσαν ἄλλαι νέες φίλιαι, 7 δὲ αὐτῆς 
+πρὸς τῶν πολεμίων μάλιστα ἐτύγχανε ἐοῦσα, 
+ἔδοξέ οἱ τόδε ποιῆσαι, τὸ καὶ συνήνεικε ποιησάση. 
+διωκομένη γὰρ ὑπὸ τῆς ᾿Αττικῆς φέρουσα ἐνέβαλε 
+νηὶ φιλίη ἀνδρῶν τε Καλυνδέων καὶ αὐτοῦ ἐπι- 
+πλέοντος τοῦ Καλυνδέων βασιλέος Δαμασιθύμου. 
+εἰ μὲν καί τι νεῖκος πρὸς αὐτὸν ἐγεγόνεε ἔτι περὶ 
+1ὐλλήσποντον ἐόντων, οὗ μέντοι ἔχω ye- εἰπεῖν 
+
+wv 
+
+οὔτε εὖ ἐκ προνοίης αὐτὰ ἐποίησε, οὔτε εἰ συνε- 
+κύρησε ἡ τῶν Καλυνδέων κατὰ τύχην Tapa- 
+πεσοῦσα νηῦς. ὡς δὲ ἐνέβαλέ τε καὶ κατέδυσε, 
+εὐτυχίη χρησαμένη διπλᾶ ἑωυτὴν ἀγαθὰ ἐργά- 
+σατο. ὃ τε γὰρ τῆς ᾿Αττικῆς νεὸς τριήραρχος 
+ὡς εἶδέ μιν ἐμβάλλουσαν νηὶ ἀνδρῶν βαρβάρων, 
+νομίσας τὴν νέα τὴν ᾿Αρτεμισίης ἢ “Ελληνίδα 
+εἶναι 7) αὐτομολέειν ἐκ τῶν βαρβάρων. καὶ αὐτοῖσι 
+ἀμύνειν, ἀποστρέψας πρὸς ἄλλας ἐτράπετο. 
+
+88. Τοῦτο μὲν τοιοῦτο αὐτῇ συνήνεικε γενέσθαι 
+διαφυγεῖν τε καὶ μὴ ἀπολέσθαι, τοῦτο δὲ συνέβη 
+ὥστε κακὸν ἐργασαμένην ἀπὸ τούτων αὐτὴν 
+μάλιστα εὐδοκιμῆσαι παρὰ Ξέρξη. λέγεται γὰρ 
+βασιλέα θηεύμενον μαθεῖν. τὴν νέα ἐμβαλοῦσαν, 
+καὶ δή τινα εἰπεῖν τῶν παρεύντων 2 Δέσποτα, "pas 
+᾿Αρτεμισίην ὡς εὖ ἀγωνίξεται καὶ νέα τῶν πολε- 
+
+
+δ4 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 87-88 
+
+
+87. Now as touching some of the others I eannot 
+with exactness say how they fought severally, 
+foreigners or Greeks; but what befel Artemisia 
+made her to be esteemed by the king even morc 
+than before. The king's side being now in dire 
+confusion, Artemisia’s ship was at this time being 
+pursued by a ship of Attica; and she could not 
+escape, for other friendly ships were in her way, and 
+it ehanced that she was the nearest to the enemy; 
+wherefore she resolved that she would do that which 
+afterwards tended to her advantage, and as she fled 
+pursued by the Athenian she charged a friendly ship 
+that bore men of Calyndus and the king himself of 
+that place, Damasithymus. It may be that she had 
+had some quarrel with him while they were still at 
+the Hellespont, but if her deed was done of set 
+purpose, or if the Calyndian met her by crossing 
+her path at haphazard, I eannot say. But having 
+charged and sunk the ship, she had the good luck 
+to work for herself a double advantage. For when 
+the Attic captain saw her chargea ship of foreigners, 
+he supposed that Artemisia's ship was Greek or a 
+deserter from the foreigners fighting for the Greeks, 
+and he turned aside to deal with others. 
+
+88. By this happy chance it came about that she 
+escaped and avoided destruction ; and moreover the 
+upshot was that the very harm which she had done 
+won her great favour in Xerxes' eyes. For the 
+king (it is said) saw her charge the ship as he 
+viewed the battle, and one of the bystanders said, 
+“Sire, see you Artemisia, how well she fights, and 
+
+ὃς 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μίων κατέδυσε ; καὶ τὸν ἐπειρέο θαι εἰ ἀληθέως 
+ἐστὶ ᾿Αρτεμισίης τὸ ἔργον, καὶ τοὺς φάναι, σαφέως 
+τὸ ἐπίσημον τῆς νεὸς ἐπισταμένους" τὴν δὲ δια- 
+φθαρεῖσαν ἠπιστέατο εἶναι πολεμίην. τά τε γὰρ 
+ἄλλα, ὡς εἴρηται, αὐτῆ συνήνεικε ἐς εὐτυχίην 
+γενόμενα, καὶ τὸ τῶν ἐκ τῆς Καλυνδικῆς νεὸς 
+μηδένα ἀποσωθέντα κατήγορον γενέσθαι. Ξέ ρξην 
+δὲ εἰπεῖν λέγεται πρὸς τὰ φραξόμενα ου μὲν 
+ἄνδρες γεγόνασί μοι pua ai δὲ γυναῖκες 
+ἄνδρες." ταῦτα μὲν Ἐέρξην pact εἰπεῖν. 
+
+89. Ἐν δὲ τῷ πόνῳ τούτῳ ἀπὸ μὲν ἔθανε ὁ 
+στρατηγὸς. Αριαβί ιγνης ὁ Δαρείου, Ξέρξεω ἐὼν 
+ἀδελφεός, ἆ ἀπὸ δὲ ἄλλοι πολλοί τε καὶ ὀνομαστοὶ 
+Περσέων καὶ Μήδων καὶ τῶν ἄλλων συμμάχων, 
+ὀλίγοι δὲ τινὲς καὶ Ἑλλήνων: ἅτε yap νέειν 
+ἐπιστάμενοι, τοῖσι αἱ νέες διεφθείροντο, καὶ μὴ 
+ἐν χειρῶν νόμῳ ἀπολλύμενοι, ἐς τὴν Σαλαμῖνα 
+διένεον. τῶν δὲ βαρβάρων οἱ πολλοὶ ἐν τῇ 
+θαλάσσῃ διεφθάρησαν νέειν οὐκ ἐπιστάμενοι. 
+ἐπεὶ δὲ αἱ πρῶται ἐς φυγὴν ἐτράποντο, ἐνθαῦτα 
+αἱ πλεῖσται διεφθείροντο' οἱ γὰρ ὄπισθε Tetay- 
+μένοι, ἐς τὸ πρόσθε τῆσι νηυσὶ παριέναι πειρώ- 
+μενοι ὡς ἀποδεξόμενοί τι καὶ αὐτοὶ ἔργον βασιλέι, 
+τῆσι σφετέρῃσι νηυσὶ φευγούσῃσι περιέπιπτον. 
+
+90. ᾿Εγένετο δὲ καὶ τόδε ἐν τῷ θορύβῳ τούτω. 
+τῶν τινες Φοινίκων, τῶν αἱ νέες διεφθάρατο, 
+ἐλθόντες παρὰ βασιλέα διέβαλλον τοὺς Ἴωνας, 
+ὡς δι᾽ ἐκείνους ἀπολοίατο αἱ νέες, ὡς προδόντων. 
+συνήνεικε ὧν οὕτω ὥστε lovov τε τοὺς στρα- 
+τηγοὺς μὴ ἀπολέσθαι Φοινίκων τε τοὺς cia- 
+βάλλοντας λαβεῖν τοιόνδε μισθόν. ἔτι τούτων 
+ταῦτα λεγόντων ἐνέβαλε νηὶ ᾿Αττικῇ Σαμοθρηικίη 
+δ6 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 88-90 
+
+
+how she has sunk an enemy ship?” Xerxes then 
+asking if it were truly Artemisia that had done the 
+deed, they affirmed it, knowing well the ensign of 
+her ship ; and they supposed that the ship she had 
+sunk was an enemy ; for the luckiest chance of all 
+which had (as I have said) befallen her was, that not 
+one from the Calyndian ship was saved alive to be 
+her accuser. Hearing what they told him, Xerxes 
+is reported to have said, * My men have become 
+women, and my women men " ; such, they say, were 
+his words. 
+
+89. In that hard fighting Xerxes’ brother the 
+admiral Ariabignes, son of Darius, was slain, and 
+withal many other Persians and Medes and allies of 
+renown, and some Greeks, but few ; for since they 
+could swim, they who lost their ships, yet were not 
+slain in hand-to-hand fight, swam across to Salamis ; 
+but the greater part of the foreigners were drowned 
+in the sea, not being able to swim. When the 
+foremost ships were turned to flight, it was then 
+that the most of them were destroyed ; for the men 
+of the rearmost ranks, pressing forward in their ships 
+that they too might display their valour to the 
+king, ran foul of their friends’ ships that were in 
+flight. 
+
+90. It happened also amid this disorder that 
+certain Phoenicians whose ships had been destroyed 
+came to the king and accused the Ionians of treason, 
+saying that it was by their doing that the ships had 
+been lost; the end of which matter was, that the 
+Ionian captains were not put to death, and those 
+Phoenicians who accused them were rewarded as 
+I will show. While they yet spoke as aforesaid, 
+a Samothracian ship charged an Attic; and while 
+
+
+87 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+νηῦς. ἢ τε δὴ ᾿Αττικὴ κατεδύετο καὶ ἐπιφερομένη 
+ΛΑἰγιναίη νηῦς κατέδυσε τῶν Σαμοθρηίκων τὴν 
+νέα. ἅτε δὲ ἐόντες ἀκοντισταὶ οἱ Σαμοθρήικες 
+τοὺς ἐπιβάτας ἀπὸ τῆς καταδυσάσης νεὸς βάλ- 
+λοντες ἀπήραξαν καὶ ἐπέβησάν τε καὶ ἔσχον 
+αὐτήν. ταῦτα γενόμενα τοὺς Ἴωνας ἐρρύσατο’ 
+ὡς γὰρ εἶδε σφέας Ξέρξης ἔργον μέγα ἐργασα- 
+μένους, ἐτράπετο πρὸς τοὺς Φοίνικας οἷα ὑπερλυ- 
+πεόμενός Té καὶ πάντας αἰτιώμενος, καί σφεων 
+ἐκέλευσε τὰς κεφαλὰς ἀποταμεῖν, ἵνα μὴ αὐτοὶ 
+κακοὶ γενόμενοι τοὺς ἀμείνονας διαβάλλωσι. 
+ὅκως γάρ τινα ἴδοι Ξέρξης τῶν ἑωυτοῦ ἔργον 
+τι ἀποδεικνύμενον ἐν τῇ ναυμαχίη. .κατήμενος 
+ὑπὸ τῷ ὄρεϊ τῷ ἀντίον Σαλαμῖνος τὸ καλέεται 
+Αἰγάλεως, ἀνεπυνθάνετο τὸν ποιήσαντα, καὶ οἱ 
+γραμματισταὶ ἀνέγραφον πατρόθεν᾽ τὸν τριήραρχον 
+καὶ τὴν πόλιν. πρὸς δέ TL καὶ προσεβάλετο 
+φίλος ἐὼν ᾿Αριαράμνης ἀνὴρ Πέρσης παρεὼν 
+τούτου τοῦ Φοινικηΐου πάθεος. οἳ μὲν δὴ πρὸς 
+τοὺς Φοίνικας ἐτράποντο. 
+
+9]. Tor δὲ βαρβάρων. ἐς φυγὴν τραπομένων 
+καὶ ἐκπλεόντων πρὸς τὸ (Φάληρον, Αἰγινῆται 
+ὑποστάντες ἐν τῷ πορθμῷ ἔργα ἀπεδέξαντο λόγου 
+ἄξια. οἱ μὲν γὰρ ᾿Αθηναῖοι ἐν τῷ, θορύβῳ ἐκε- 
+ράιξον τάς τε ἀντισταμένας. καὶ τὰς φευγούσας 
+τῶν νεῶν, οἱ δὲ Αἰγινῆται τὰς ἐκπλεούσας: ὅκως 
+δὲ τινὲς τοὺς ᾿Αθηναίους διαφύγοιεν, φερόμενοι 
+ἐσέπιπτον ἐς τοὺς Αἰγινήτας. 
+
+99, ᾿Ενθαῦτα συνεκύρεον νέες ἥ τε Θεμιστοκλέος 
+διώκουσα νέα καὶ ἡ Πολυκρίτου τοῦ Κριοῦ ἀνδρὸς 
+Αἰγινήτεω νηὶ ἐμβαλοῦσα Σιδωνίῃ, 7 περ εἷλε 
+τὴν προφυλάσσουσαν ἐπὶ Σκιάθῳ τὴν Λἰγιναίην, 
+
+
+88 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 9ο-ο2 
+
+
+the Attic ship was sinking, a ship of Aegina bore 
+down and sank the Samothracian ; but the Samo- 
+thraciaus, being javelin throwers, swept the fighting 
+men with a shower of javelins off from the ship that 
+had sunk theirs, and boarded and seized her them- 
+selves. Thereby the Ionians were saved; for when 
+Xerxes saw this great feat of their arms, he turned 
+on the Phoenicians (being moved to blame all in the 
+bitterness of his heart) and commanded that their 
+heads be cut off, that so they might not accuse 
+better men, being themselves cowards. For when- 
+ever Xerxes, from his seat under the hill over against 
+Salamis called Aegaleos, saw any feat achieved by 
+his own men in the battle, he inquired who was 
+the doer of it, and his scribes wrote down the names 
+of the ship’s captain and his father and his city. 
+Moreover it tended somewhat to the doom of the 
+Phoenicians that Ariaramnes, a Persian, was there, 
+who was a friend of the Ionians. So Xerxes’ men 
+dealt with the Phoenicians. 
+
+9]. The foreigners being routed and striving to 
+win out to Phalerum, the Aeginetans lay in wait 
+for them in the passage and then achieved notable 
+deeds; for the Athenians amid the disorder made 
+havoc of all ships that would resist or fly, and so did 
+the Aeginetans with those that were sailing out of 
+the strait; and all that escaped from the Athenians 
+fell in their course among the Aeginetans, 
+
+92. Two ships met there, Themistocles’ ship 
+pursuing another, and one that bore Polycritus 
+son of Crius of Aegina; this latter had charged a 
+Sidonian, the same which had taken the Aeginetan 
+
+
+89 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐπ᾽ ἧς ἔπλεε Πυθέης ὁ ᾿Ισχενόου, τὸν οἱ Πέρσαι 
+κατακοπέντα ἀρετῆς εἵνεκα εἶχον ἐν τῇ νηὶ ἐκπα- 
+γλεόμενοι' τὸν δὴ περιάγουσα ἅμα τοῖσι Πέρσησι 
+ἥλω ἡ νηῦς ἡ Σιδωνίη, ὥστε Πυθέην οὕτω 
+^ H » € Nae ^ \ / S 
+σωθῆναι ἐς Αἴγιναν. ὡς δὲ ἐσεῖδε τὴν νέα τὴν 
+3 \ € ’ 3 \ / 2 . 
+Αττικὴν ὁ Πολύκριτος, ἔγνω τὸ σημήιον ἰδὼν 
+^ , 
+τῆς στρατηγίδος, καὶ βώσας τὸν Θεμιστοκλέα 
+ἐπεκερτόμησε ἐς τῶν Λἰγινητέων τὸν μηδισμὸν 
+` / ^ / S» N ε , 
+ὀνειδίζων. ταῦτα μὲν νυν νηὶ ἐμβαλὼν ὁ Πολύ- 
+κριτος. ἀπέρριψε ἐς Θεμιστοκλέα: οἱ δὲ βάρβαροι 
+τῶν αἱ νέες περιεγένοντο, φεύγοντες ἀπίκοντο ἐς 
+(Φάληρον ὑπὸ τὸν πεξὸν στρατόν. 
+
+93. Ἐν δὲ τῇ ναυμαχίῃ ταύτῃ ἤκουσαν 'EX- 
+λήνων ἄριστα Αἰγινῆται, ἐπὶ δὲ ᾿Αθηναῖοι, 
+, ^ N r / e > / ` 
+ἀνδρῶν δὲ Πολύκριτος τε ὁ Αἰγινήτης καὶ 
+, ^ , ’ ευ ΄ N55 , 
+Ἀθηναῖοι [ὑὐμένης τε 0 Αναγυράσιος καὶ Αμεινίης 
+
+e , 
+Παλληνεύς, ὃς καὶ ᾿Αρτεμισίην ἐπεδίωξε. εἰ μέν 
+νυν ἔμαθε ὅτι ἐν ταύτῃ πλέοι ᾿Αρτεμισίη, οὐκ 
+ἂν ἐπαύσατο πρότερον Ñ εἷλέ μιν 7 καὶ αὐτὸς 
+ἥλω. τοῖσι γὰρ ᾿Αθηναίων τριηράρχοισι παρε- 
+κεκέλευστο, πρὸς δὲ καὶ ἄεθλον ἔκειτο μύριαι 
+δραχμαί, ὃς ἄν pw Cony ἕλη: δεινὸν γάρ τι 
+ἐποιεῦντο γυναῖκα ἐπὶ τὰς ᾿Αθήνας στρατεύεσθαι. 
+αὕτη μὲν δή, ὡς πρότερον εἴρηται, διέφυγε: ἧσαν 
+
+» ^ / 
+δὲ καὶ οἱ ἄλλοι, τῶν αἱ νέες περιεγεγόνεσαν, ἐν 
+τῷ Φαλήρῳ. 
+
+94. ᾿Αδείμαντον δὲ τὸν Κορίνθιον στρατηγὸν 
+λέγουσι ᾿Αθηναῖοι αὐτίκα κατ ἀρχάς, ὡς συνέ- 
+
+’ 
+μισγον αἱ νέες, ἐκπλαγέντα τε καὶ ὑπερδείσαντα, 
+
+
+1 Polycritus cries to Themistocles, ‘‘See how friendly we 
+are to the Persians!” Polycritus and his father had been 
+
+
+go 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 92-94 
+
+
+ship that watched off Sciathus, wherein was Pytheas 
+son of Ischenous, that Pytheas whom when gashed 
+with wounds the Persians kept aboard their ship 
+and made much of for his valour; this Sidonian ship 
+was carrying Pytheas among the Persians when she 
+was now taken, so that thereby he came safe back 
+to Aegina. When Polycritus saw the Attic ship, 
+he knew it by seeing the admiral's ship's ensign, 
+and cried out to Themistocles with bitter taunt 
+and reproach as to the friendship of Aegina with 
+the Persians.! Such taunts did Polycritus hurl at 
+Themistocles, after that he had charged an enemy 
+ship. As for the foreigners whose ships were yet 
+undestroyed, they fled to Phalerum and took refuge 
+with the land army. 
+
+93. In that sea-fight the nations that won most 
+renown were the Aeginetans, and next to them the 
+Athenians; among men the most renowned were 
+Polycritus of Aegina and two Athenians, Eumenes 
+of Anagyrus and Aminias of Pallene, he who pur- 
+sued after Artemisia. Had he known that she was 
+in that ship, he had never been stayed ere he took 
+hers or lost his own; such was the bidding given to 
+the Athenian captain, and there was a prize withal 
+of teu thousand drachmae for whoever should take 
+her alive; for there was great wrath that a woman 
+should come to attack Athens. She, then, escaped 
+as I have already said; and the rest also whose ships 
+were undestroyed were at Phalerum. 
+
+94. As for the Corinthian admira] Adimantus, the 
+Athenians say that at the very moment when the 
+ships joined battle he was struck with terror and 
+
+
+taken as hostages by the Athenians when Aegina was charged 
+with favouring the Persians (vi. 49, 73) 
+
+
+9I 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+NM / , y ’ Os 
+τὰ ἱστία ἀειράμενον οἴχεσθαι φεύγοντα, ἰδόντας 
+’ ` 
+δὲ τοὺς Ιζορινθίους τὴν στρατηγίδα φεύγουσαν 
+ὡσαύτως οἴχεσθαι. ὡς δὲ ἄρα φεύγοντας γινεσθαι 
+^ τν yd N ο 3 ’ - r 
+τῆς Σαλαμινίης κατὰ ἱρὸν ᾿Αθηναίης Σκιράδος, 
+f (ὁ / ^ ΔΝ 
+περιπίπτειν σφι κέλητα θείη πομπῇῆ, τὸν οὔτε 
+/ ^ / ^ ` ^ 
+πέμψαντα φανῆναι οὐδένα, οὔτε τι τῶν ἀπὸ τῆς 
+^ 3 , , ^ 7 / 
+στρατιῆς εἰδόσι προσφέρεσθαι τοῖσι Ἰκορινθίοισι. 
+^ ` / b) ^ N ^ 
+τῇδε δὲ συμβάλλονται εἶναι θεῖον τὸ πρῆγμα. 
+ὡς γὰρ ἀγχοῦ γενέσθαι τῶν νεῶν, τοὺς ἀπὸ τοῦ 
+/ / LO «c? Ò / N N 3 
+κέλητος λέγειν τάδε. Αδείµαντε, σὺ μὲν aro- 
+. / ` ei 
+στρέψας τὰς νέας ἐς φυγὴν ὅρμησαι καταπροδοὺς 
+M tf ^ N ν M ^ ef , ` 
+τοὺς "EXXqgvas: ot δὲ καὶ δὴ νικῶσι ὅσον αὐτοὶ 
+^ f ^ ^ 3» ^ 
+ἠρῶντο ἐπικρατήσαντες τῶν ἐχθρῶν. ταῦτα 
+’ / . 3 / " 
+λεγόντων ἀπιστέειν γὰρ τὸν ᾿Αδείμαντον, αὖτις 
+΄ 5 [4 
+τάδε λέγειν, ὡς αὐτοὶ οἷοί τε εἶεν ἀγόμενοι ὅμηροι 
+, , E ` ^ / e € 
+ἀποθνήσκειν, ἣν μὴ νικῶντες φαίνωνται οἱ " EX- 
+e N 
+Aves. οὕτω δὴ ἀποστρέψαντα τὴν νέα αὐτόν 
+N M » σι 3 ^t / , 8 ^ 3 
+τε καὶ TOUS ἄλλους ἐπ ἐξεργασμενοισι EAU ELV ἐς 
+L r . / 
+τὸ στρατὀπεδον. τούτους μὲν τοιαύτη φάτις ἔχει 
+e . , ’ , 7 3 ’ ha / 
+ὑπὸ ᾿Αθηναίων, οὐ μέντοι αὐτοί γε Κορίνθιοι 
+e / , » 5 r / , ` ^ 
+ὁμολογέουσι, ἀλλ᾽ ἐν πρώτοισι σφέας αὐτοὺς τῆς 
+/ 
+ναυμαχίη: νομίζουσι γενέσθαι’ μαρτυρέει δέ σφι 
+"ηλ ουν ως, 
+/ τος y 3 ^ 
+95. ᾿Αριστείδης δὲ ὁ Λυσιμάχου ἀνὴρ᾽ Αθηναῖος, 
+^ f , 
+τοῦ καὶ ὀλίγω TL πρὀτερον τούτων ἐπεμνήσθην ὡς 
+ἀνδρὸς ἀρίστου, οὗτος ἐν τῷ θορύβῳ τούτω τῷ 
+ν NS ^ / LO 3 / τ . 
+περὶ Σαλαμῖνα γενομένῳ τάδε ἐποίεε: παραλαβὼν 
+πολλοὺς τῶν οπλιτέων OF παρατετέχατο παρὰ 
+N ^ 3s ’ ΄ , 
+τὴν ἀκτὴν τῆς Σαλαμινίης χώρης, γένος ἐόντες 
+92 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 94-95 
+
+
+panic, and hoisting his sails fled away ; and when 
+the Corinthians saw their admiral's ship fleeing they 
+were off and away likewise. But when (so the story 
+goes) they came in their flight near that part of 
+Salamis where is the temple of Athene Sciras,! 
+there by heaven's providence a boat met them 
+which none was known to have sent, nor had the 
+Corinthians, ere it drew nigh to them, kuown aught 
+of the doings of the fleet ; and this is how they infer 
+heaven's hand in the matter: when the boat came 
+nigh the ships, those that were in it cried, “ Adi- 
+mantus, you have turned back with your ships in 
+flight, and betrayed the Greeks; but even now 
+they are winning the day as fully as they ever 
+prayed that they might vanquish their enemies." 
+Thus they spoke, and when Adimantus would not 
+believe they said further that they were ready to 
+be taken for hostages and slain if the Greeks were 
+not victorious for all to see. Thereupon Adimantus 
+and the rest did turn their ships about and came 
+to the fleet when all was now over and done. 
+Thus the Athenians report of the Corinthians; but 
+the Corinthians deny it, and hold that they were 
+among the foremost in the battle; and all Hellas 
+bears them witness likewise. 
+
+95. But Aristides son of Lysimachus, that Athenian 
+of whose great merit I have lately made mention, did 
+in this rout at Salamis as I will show: taking many 
+of the Athenian men-at-arms who stood arrayed on 
+the shores of Salamis, he carried them across to 
+
+
+1 The temple stood on the southern extremity of Salamis. 
+If the Persians at the outset of the battle were occupying the 
+ends of the whole strait between Salamis and the mainland, 
+it is not clear how the Corinthians could get to this point. 
+
+
+93 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+᾿Αθηναῖοι, ἐς τὴν Ψυττάλειαν νῆσον ἀπέβησε 
+ἄγων, oi τοὺς Πέρσας τοὺς ἐν τῇ νησῖδι ταύτῃ 
+κατεφόνευσαν πάντας. 
+
+96. Ὡς δὲ ἡ ναυμαχίη διελέλντο, κατειρύσαντες 
+ἐς τὴν Σαλαμῖνα οἱ “Έλληνες τῶν .νανηγίων ὅσα 
+ταύτῃ ἐτύγχανε ἔτι ἐόντα, ἕτοιμοι ἦσαν ἐς ἄλλην 
+ναυμαχίην, ἐλπίζοντες τῇσι περιεούσῃσι νηυσὶ 
+ἔτι χρήσεσθαι βασιλέα. τῶν δὲ ναυηγίων πολλὰ 
+ὑπολαβὼν ἄνεμος ζέφυρος ἔφερε τῆς ᾿Αττικῆς ἐπὶ 
+τὴν ἠιόνα τὴν καλεομένην, Κωλιάδα' ὥστε ano- 
+πλησθῆναι τὸν χρησμὸν τόν τε ἄλλον πάντα τὸν 
+περὶ τῆς ναυμαχίης ταύτης εἰρημένον Βάκιδι καὶ 
+Μουσαίῳ, καὶ δὴ καὶ κατὰ τὰ ναυήγια τὰ ταύτῃ 
+ἐξενειχθέντα τὸ εἰρημένον πολλοῖσι ἔτεσι πρότερον 
+τούτων ἐν χρησμῷ Λυσιστράτῳ ᾿Αθηναίω ἀνδρὶ 
+
+’ NS [ή ΄ X es 
+χρησμολόγῳ, τὸ ἐλελήθεε πάντας Tous” Ελληνας, 
+
+
+Κωλιάδες δὲ γυναῖκες ἐρετμοῖσι φρύξουσι 
+
+
+τοῦτο δὲ ἔμελλε ἀπελάσαντος βασιλέος ἔσεσθαι. 
+
+97. Ξέρξης δὲ ὡς ἔμαθε τὸ ye,.vos πάθος, 
+δείσας μή τις τῶν Lovey ὑποθῆται τοῖσι EAN 
+7) αὐτοὶ νοήσωσι πλέειν ἐς τὸν ᾿Ελλήσποντον 
+λύσοντες τὰς γεφύρας, καὶ ἀπολαμφθεὶς ἐν τῇ 
+Εὐρώπῃ κινδυνεύσῃ ἀπολέσθαι, δρησμὸν ἐβούλευε. 
+θέλων δὲ μὴ ἐπίδηλος εἶναι μήτε τοῖσι “Ελλησι 
+μήτε τοῖσι ἑωυτοῦ, ἐς τὴν Σαλαμῖνα χῶμα ἐπει- 
+ρᾶτο διαχοῦν, γαύλους τε Φοινικηίους συνέδεε, 
+ἵνα ἀντί τε σχεδίης ἔωσι καὶ τείχεος, ἀρτέετό τε 
+ἐς πόλεμον ὡς ναυμαχίην ἄλλην ποιησόμενος. 
+
+
+1 A narrow headland 23 miles south of Phalerum ; just 
+where ships would be driven from the battle by a west wind. 
+
+
+94 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 95-97 
+
+
+the island Psyttalea, and they slaughtered all the 
+Persians who were on that islet. 
+
+96. The sea-fight being broken off, the Greeks 
+towed to Salamis all the wrecks that were still 
+afloat in those waters, and held themselves ready 
+for another battle, thinking that the king would 
+yet again use his ships that were left. But many 
+of the wrecks were caught by a west wind and 
+carried to the strand in Attica called Colias;! so 
+that not only was the rest of the prophecy fulfilled 
+which had been uttered by Bacis and Musaeus 
+concerning that sea-fight, but also that which had 
+been prophesied many years ago by an Athenian 
+oracle-monger named Lysistratus, about the wrecks 
+that were here cast ashore (the import of which 
+prophecy no Greek had noted): 
+
+
+* Also the Colian dames shall roast their barley 
+with oar-blades.”’ 
+
+
+But this was to happen after the king's departure. 
+97. When Xerxes was aware of the calamity that 
+had befallen him, he feared lest the Greeks (by 
+Ionian counsel or their own devising) might sail 
+to the Hellespont to break his bridges, and he might 
+be cut off in Europe and in peril of his life; and so 
+he planned flight. But that neither the Greeks nor 
+his own men might discover his intent, he essayed 
+to build a mole across to Salamis,? and made fast a 
+line of Phoenician barges to be a floating bridge and 
+a wall; and he made preparation for war, as though 
+he would fight at sea again. The rest who saw him 
+
+
+2 Ctesias and Strabo place this project before and not after 
+the battle; plainly it would have been useless (and indeed 
+impossible) to the Persians after their defeat. 
+
+
+95 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὁρῶντες δέ μιν πάντες οἱ ἄλλοι ταῦτα πρήσσοντα 
+εὖ ἠπιστέατο ὡς ἐκ παντὸς νόου παρεσκεύασται 
+μένων πολεμήσειν: Μαρδόνιον δ οὐδὲν τούτων 
+ἐλάνθανε ὡς μάλιστα ἔμπειρον ἐόντα τῆς ἐκείνου 
+TOU 
+
+98. Ταῦτά τε ἅμα Ξέρξης € ἐποίεε καὶ ἔπεμπε ἐς 
+Πέρσας ἀγγελέοντα τὴν παρεοῦσάν σφι συμφορήν. 
+τούτων δὲ τῶν ἀγγέλων ἐστὶ οὐδὲν ὅ τι θᾶσσον 
+παραγίνεται θνητὸν ἐόν" οὕτω τοῖσι .Ἠέρσῃσι 
+ἐξεύρηται τοῦτο. λέγουσι γὰρ ὡς ὁσέων ἂν 
+ἡμερέων 7 ἡ πᾶσα ὀδός, τοσοῦτοι ἵπποι τε καὶ 
+ἄνδρες διεστᾶσι κατὰ ἡμερησίην ὁδὸν ἑκάστην 
+ἵππος τε καὶ ἀνὴρ. τεταγμένος᾽ τοὺς οὔτε νιφετός, 
+
+οὐκ ὄμβρος, οὐ καῦμα, οὗ νὺξ ἔργει μὴ οὐ kata- 
+
+νύσαι τὸν προκείμενον αὐτῷ δρόμον τὴν ταχίστην. 
+ὁ μὲν δὴ πρῶτος δραμὼν παραδιδοῖ τὰ ἐντεταλμένα 
+TO δευτέρῳ, ὁ δὲ δεύτερος τῷ τρίτῳ' τὸ δὲ ἐνθεῦτεν 
+ἤδη kar ἄλλον καὶ ἄλλον διεξέρχεται παραδιδό- 
+μενα, κατά περ ἐν "Ελλησι ἡ λαμπαδηφορίη τὴν 
+τῷ Ἡφαίστω ἐπιτελέουσι. τοῦτο τὸ δράμημα 
+τῶν ἵππων καλέουσι Πέρσαι ἀγγαρήιον. 
+
+99. Ἡ μὲν δὴ πρώτη ἐς Σοῦσα ἀγγελίη ἀπι- 
+κομένη, ὡς ἔχοι ᾿Αθήνας Ξέρξης, ἔτερψε οὕτω 
+δή τι Περσέων τοὺς ὑπολειφθέντας ὡς τάς τε 
+ὁδοὺς μυρσίνῃ πάσας ἐστόρεσαν καὶ ἐθυμίων 
+θυμιήματα καὶ αὐτοὶ ἦσαν ἐν θυσίησί τε καὶ 
+εὐπαθείησι. ἡ δὲ δευτέρη σφι ἀγγελίη ἐπεσελ- 
+θοῦσα συνέχεε οὕτω ὥστε τοὺς κιθῶνας κατερρη- 
+
+
+1 Torch-races were run at certain Athenian festivals. 
+They were of various kinds. One was ‘‘a relay or team race. 
+There were several lines of runners; the first man in each 
+
+
+96 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 97-99 
+
+
+so doing were fully persuaded that he was in all 
+earnestness prepared to remain there and carry on 
+the war; but none of this deceived Mardonius, who 
+had best experience of Xerxes’ purposes. 
+
+98. While Xerxes did thus, he sent a messenger 
+to Persia with news of his present misfortune. Now . 
+there is nothing mortal that accomplishes a course 
+more swiftly than do these messengers, by the 
+Persians’ skilful contrivance. It is said that as many 
+days as there are in the whole journey, so many are 
+the men and horses that stand along the road, each 
+horse and man at the interval of a day’s journey; 
+and these are stayed neither by snow nor rain nor 
+heat nor darkness from accomplishing their appointed 
+course with all speed. The first rider delivers his 
+charge to the second, the second to the third, and 
+thence it passes on from hand to hand, even as in the 
+Greek torch-bearers' race! in honour of Hephaestus. 
+This riding-post is called in Persia, angareion.? 
+
+99. When the first message came to Susa, telling 
+that Xerxes had taken Athens, it gave such delight 
+to the Persians who were left at home that they 
+strewed all the roads with myrtle boughs and burnt 
+incense and gave themselves up to sacrificial feasts 
+and jollity; but the second, coming on the heels 
+of the first, so confounded them that they all rent 
+
+
+line had his torch lighted at the altar and ran with it at full 
+speed to the second, to whom he passed it on, the second to 
+the third, and so on till the last man carried it to the goal. 
+The line of runners which first passed its torch alight to the 
+goal was the winning team " (How and Wells). 
+
+2 ἄγγαρος is apparently a Babylonian word, the Persian 
+word for a post-rider being in Greek ἀστάνδης (How and 
+Wells) ἄγγαρος passed into Greek usage; cp. Aesch. Ag. 
+285. 
+
+
+9m 
+VOL. 1V. E 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ξαντο πάντες, Bon τε καὶ οἰμωγῇ ἐχρέωντο 
+ἀπλέτῳ, Μαρδόνιον ἐν αἰτίη τιθέντες. οὐκ οὕτω 
+δὲ περὶ τῶν νεῶν ἀχθόμενοι ταῦτα οἱ Πέρσαι 
+ἐποίευν ὡς περὶ αὐτῷ Ξέρξῃ -δειμαίνοντες. 
+
+100. Kai περὶ Πέρσας μὲν ἦν ταῦτα τὸν πάντα 
+μεταξὺ χρόνον γενόμενον, μέχρι οὗ Ξέρξης αὐτός 
+σφεας ἀπικόμενος ἔπαυσε. Μαρδόνιος δὲ ὁρῶν 
+μὲν Ξέρξην συμφορὴν μεγάλην ἐκ τῆς ναυμαχίης 
+ποιεύμενον, ὑποπτεύων δὲ αὐτὸν δρησμὸν βου- 
+λεύειν ἐκ τῶν ᾿Αθηνέων, φροντίσας πρὸς ἑωυτὸν 
+ὡς δώσει δίκην ἀναγνώσας βασιλέα στρατεύεσθαι 
+ἐπὶ τὴν Ελλάδα, καί οἱ κρέσσον εἴη ἀνακινδυνεῦ- 
+σαι ἢ κατεργάσασθαι τὴν Ἑλλάδα ἡ αὐτὸν καλῶς 
+τελευτῆσαι τὸν βίον ὑπὲρ μεγάλων αἰωρηθέντα" 
+πλέον μέντοι ἔφερέ οἱ ἡ γνώμη κατεργάσασθαι 
+τὴν Ἑλλάδα: λογισάμενος ὧν ταῦτα προσέφερε 
+τὸν λόγον τόνδε. “Δέσποτα, μήτε λυπέο μήτε 
+συμφορὴν μηδεμίαν. μεγάλην ποιεῦ τοῦδε τοῦ 
+γεγονότος eiveka πρήγματος. οὐ γὰρ ξύλων ἆ ἀγὼν 
+ὁ τὸ πᾶν φέρων ἐστὶ ἡμῖν, ἀλλ᾽ ἀνδρῶν τε καὶ 
+ἵππων. σοὶ δὲ οὔτε τις τούτων τῶν τὸ πᾶν 
+σφίσι ἤδη δοκεόντων κατεργάσθαι ἀποβὰς ἀπὸ 
+τῶν νεῶν πειρήσεται ἀντιωθῆναι οὔτ᾽ ἐκ τῆς 
+ἠπείρου τῆσδε: οὗ τε ἡμῖν ἠντιώθησαν, ἔδοσαν 
+δίκας. εἰ μέν νυν δοκέει, αὐτίκα πειρώμεθα τῆς 
+Πελοποννήσου εἰ δὲ καὶ δοκέει ἐ ἐπισχεῖν, παρέχει 
+ποιέειν ταῦτα. μηδὲ δυσθύμεε' οὐ γὰρ ἔστι 
+"Ελλησι οὐδεμία ἔκδυσις μὴ οὐ δόντας λόγον τῶν 
+ἐποίησαν νῦν τε καὶ πρότερον εἶναι σοὺς δούλους. 
+μάλιστα μέν νυν ταῦτα ποίεε: εἰ Ò ἄρα τοι 
+Βεβούλευται αὐτὸν ἀπελαύνοντα ἀπάγειν τὴν 
+στρατιήν, ἄλλην ἔχω καὶ ἐκ τῶνδε βουλήν. σὺ 
+98 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 99-100 
+
+
+their tunics, and cried and lamented without ceasing, 
+holding Mardonius to blame ; and it was not so much 
+in grief for their ships that they did this as because 
+they feared for Xerxes himself. 
+
+100. Such was the plight of the Persians for all 
+the time until the coming of Xerxes himself ended 
+it. But Mardonius, seeing that Xerxes was greatly 
+distressed by reason of the sea-fight, and suspecting 
+that he planned flight from Athens, considered 
+with himself that he would be punished for over- 
+persuading the king to march against Hellas, and 
+that it was better for him to risk the chance of 
+either subduing Hellas or dying honourably by flying 
+at a noble quarry; yet his hope rather inclined 
+to the subduing of Hellas; wherefore taking all 
+this into account he made this proposal: “Sire, be 
+not grieved nor greatly distressed by reason of this 
+that has befallen us. It is not on things of wood 
+that all the issue hangs for us, but on men and 
+horses; and there is not one of these men, who 
+think that they have now won a crowning victory, 
+that will disembark from his ship and essay to 
+withstand you, no, nor anyone from this mainland ; 
+they that have withstood us have paid the penalty. 
+If then it so please you, let us straightway attack 
+the Peloponnese; or if it please you to wait, that 
+also we can do. Be not cast down ; for the Greeks 
+have no way of escape from being accountable for 
+their former and their latter deeds, and becoming 
+your slaves. It is best then that you should do as 
+I have said; but if you are resolved that you will 
+lead your army away, even then I have another 
+
+
+99 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Πέρσας, βασιλεῦ, μὴ ποιήσης καταγελάστους 
+γενέσθαι “λλησι οὐδὲ γὰρ ἐν Ἱ]έρσησί τοί τι 
+δεδήληται τῶν πρηγμάτων, οὐδ᾽ ἐρέεις ὅκου ἐγε- 
+νόμεθα ἄνδρες κακοί. εἰ δὲ Φοίνικές τε καὶ 
+Αἰγύπτιοι καὶ Κύπριοί τε καὶ Κίλικες κακοὶ 
+ἐγένοντο, οὐδὲν πρὸς [Ἱέρσας τοῦτο προσήκει τὸ 
+πάθος. ἤδη ὧν, ἐπειδὴ οὐ Πέρσαι τοι αἴτιοι ἐισί, 
+ἐμοὶ πείθεο: εἴ τοι δέδοκται μὴ παραμένειν, σὺ 
+uev ἐς ἤθεα τὰ σεωυτοῦ ἀπέλαυνε τῆς στρατιῆς 
+ἀπάγων τὸ πολλόν, ἐμὲ δὲ σοὶ χρὴ τὴν Ελλάδα 
+παρασχεῖν δεδουλωμένην, τριήκοντα μυριάδας τοῦ 
+στρατοῦ ἀπολεξάμενον.᾽ 
+
+101. Ῥαῦτα ἀκούσας Ξέρξης ὡς ἐκ κακῶν 
+ἐχάρη τε καὶ ἥσθη, πρὸς Μαρδόνιόν τε BovXev- 
+σάμενος ἔφη ὑποκρινέεσθαι ὁκότερον ποιήσει 
+τούτων. ὡς δὲ ἐβουλεύετο ἅμα Ἱ]ερσέων τοῖσι 
+ἐπικλήτοισι, ἔδοξέ οἱ καὶ Ἀρτεμισίην ἐς συμβου- 
+λίην μεταπέμψασθαι, ὅτι πρότερον ἐφαίνετο 
+μούνη νοέουσα τὰ ποιητέα ἦν. ὡς δὲ ἀπίκετο 
+ἡ ᾿Αρτεμισίη, μεταστησάμενος τοὺς ἄλλους τούς 
+τε συμβούλους Περσέων καὶ τοὺς δορυφόρους, 
+ἔλεξε Ξέρξης τάδε. “Κελεύει µε Μαρδόνιος 
+μένοντα αὐτοῦ πειρᾶσθαι τῆς Πελοποννήσου, 
+λέγων ὥς μοι Πέρσαι τε καὶ ὁ πεζὸς στρατὸς 
+οὐδενὸς μεταίτιοι πάθεος εἰσί, ἀλλὰ βουλομένοισί 
+σφι γένοιτ᾽ ἂν ἀπόδεξις. ἐμὲ ὧν ἢ ταῦτα κελεύει 
+ποιέειν, ἢ αὐτὸς ἐθέλει τριήκοντα μυριάδας ἀπολε- 
+ξάμενος τοῦ στρατοῦ παρασχεῖν μοι τὴν IEXXd6a 
+δεδουλωμένην, αὐτὸν δέ µε κελεύει ἀπελαύνειν 
+σὺν τῷ λοιπῷ στρατῶ ἐς ἤθεα τὰ ἐμά. σὺ ὧν 
+ἐμοί, καὶ γὰρ περὶ τῆς ναυμαχίης εὖ συνεβού- 
+
+
+100 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. τοο--οι 
+
+
+plan. Do ποῖ, O king, make the Persians a laugh. 
+ing-stock to the Greeks; for if you have suffered 
+harm, it is by no fault of the Persians, nor can you 
+say that we have anywhere done less than brave 
+men should; and if Phocnicians and Egyptians 
+and Cyprians and Cilicians have so done, it is not 
+the Persians who have any part in this disaster. 
+Wherefore since the Persians are nowise to blame, 
+be guided by me; if you are resolved that you will 
+not remain, do you march away homewards with 
+the greater part of your army; but it is for me 
+to enslave and deliver Hellas to you, with three 
+hundred thousand of your host whom I will 
+choose." 
+
+101. When Xerxes heard that, he was as glad 
+and joyful as a man in his evil case might be, 
+and said to Mardonius that he would answer him 
+when he had first taken counsel which of the two 
+plans he would follow; and as he consulted with 
+those Persians whom he summoned, he was fain 
+to bid Artemisia too to the council, because 
+he saw that she alone at the former sitting had 
+discerned what was best to do. When Artemisia 
+came, Xerxes bade all others withdraw, both Persian 
+councillors and guards, and said to her: * It is Mar- 
+donius' counsel that I should abide here and attack 
+the Peloponnese; for the Persians, he says, and the 
+land army are nowise to blame for our disaster, and 
+of that they would willingly give proof. Wherefore 
+it is his counsel that I should do this; else he offers 
+to choose out three hundred thousand men of the 
+army and deliver Hellas to me enslaved, while I 
+myself by his counsel march away homeward with 
+the rest of the host. Now therefore I ask of you: 
+
+
+IOI 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+λευσας τῆς γενομένης ͵ οὐκ ἐῶσα ποιέεσθαι, νῦν 
+τε συμβούλευσον ὁκότερα ποιέων ἐπιτύχω εὖ 
+βουλευσάμενος." 
+
+102. Ὃ μὲν ταῦτα συνεβουλεύετο, i δὲ λέγει 
+τάδε. “Βασιλεῦ, χαλεπὸν μὲν ἐστὶ συμβου- 
+λευομένῳ τυχεῖν τὰ -ἄριστα εἴπασαν, ἐπὶ μέντοι 
+τοῖσι κατήκουσι πρήγμασι δοκέει μοι αὐτὸν μέν 
+σε ἀπελαύνειν ὀπίσω, Μαρδόνιον δέ, εἰ ἐθέλει 
+τε καὶ ὑποδέκεται ταῦτα ποιήσειν, αὐτοῦ kata- 
+λιπεῖν σὺν τοῖσι ἐθέλει. τοῦτο μὲν γὰρ ἣν 
+καταστρέψηται τὰ φησὶ θέλειν καί οἱ προχωρήσῃ 
+τὰ νοέων λέγει, σὸν τὸ ἔργον ὦ δέσποτα γίνεται; 
+οἱ γὰρ σοὶ δοῦλοι κατεργάσαντο. τοῦτο δὲ ἦν 
+τὰ ἐναντία τῆς Μαρδονίου γνώμης γένηται, οὐδεμία 
+συμφορὴ μεγάλη ἔσται σέο. τε περιεόντος καὶ 
+ἐκείνων τῶν πρηγμάτων περὶ οἶκον τὸν σόν" ἦν 
+γὰρ σύ τε epus καὶ οἶκος ὁ σὀς, πολλοὺς 
+πολλάκις ἀγῶνας δραμέονται περὶ σφέων αὐτῶν 
+
+| "Ελληνες. Μαρδονίου δέ, ἤν τι πάθῃ, λόγος 
+
+οὐδεὶς γίνεται, οὐδέ τι νικῶντες οἱ "Ελληνες 
+νικῶσι, δοῦλον σὸν ἀπολέσαντες: σὺ δέ, τῶν 
+εἵνεκα τὸν στόλον ἐποιήσαο, πυρώσας τὰς 
+᾿Αθήνας ἀπελᾷς.» 
+
+108. “Ἠσθη τε δὴ τῇ συμβουλίῃ Ξέρξης" 
+λέγουσα γὰρ ἐπετύγχανε τά περ αὐτὸς ἐνόεε. 
+οὐδὲ γὰρ εὖ πάντες καὶ πᾶσαι συνεβούλευον 
+αὐτῷ μένειν, ἔμενε ἂν δοκέειν ἐ ἐμοί: οὕτω καταρρω- 
+δήκεε. ἐπαινέσας δὲ τὴν ᾿Αρτεμισίην, ταύτην μὲν 
+ἀποστέλλει ἄγουσαν αὐτοῦ παῖδας ἐς Ἔφεσον' 
+νόθοι γὰρ τινὲς παῖδές οἱ συνέσποντο. 
+
+104. ο, δὲ τοῖσι παισὶ φύλακον Ἑρμό- 
+τιμον, γένος μὲν ἐόντα Ἰηδασέα, φερόμενον δὲ 
+102 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. ror-104 
+
+
+as you did rightly in counselling me against the 
+late sea-fight, so now counsel me as to which of 
+these two things I shall be best advised to do." 
+
+102. Being thus asked for advice she replied: 
+“It is difficult, O king, to answer your asking for 
+advice by saying that which is best; but in the 
+present turn of affairs I think it best that you 
+march away back, and that Mardonius, if he wills 
+and promises to do as he says, be left here with 
+those whom he desires. For if he subdue all that 
+he offers to subdue, and prosper in the purpose 
+wherewith he speaks, the achievement, Sire, is yours; 
+for it will be your servants that have wrought it. 
+But if again the issue be contrary to Mardonius’ 
+opinion, it is no great misfortune so long as you 
+and all that household of yours be safe; for while 
+you and they of your house are safe, many a time 
+and oft will the Greeks have to fight for their lives. 
+As for Mardonius, if aught ill befall him, it is no 
+matter for that ; nor will any victory of the Greeks 
+be a victory in truth, when they have but slain your 
+servant; but as for you, you will be marching home 
+after the burning of Athens, which thing was the 
+whole purpose of your expedition." 
+
+103. Artemisia's counsel pleased Xerxes; for it 
+happened that she spoke his own purpose ; in truth 
+I think that he would not have remained, though all 
+men and women had counselled him so to do; so 
+panic-stricken was he. Having then thanked Arte- 
+misia, he sent her away to carry his sons to Ephesus ; 
+for he had some bastard sons with him. 
+
+104. With these sons he sent Hermotimus as 
+guardian; this man was by birth of Pedasa, and the 
+
+
+103 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οὐ τὰ δεύτερα τῶν εὐνούχων παρὰ βασιλέι! [οἱ 
+δὲ Πηδασέες οἰκέουσι ὑπὲρ ᾿Αλικαρνησσοῦ' ἐν 
+δὲ τοῖσι []ηδάσοισι τουτέοισι τοιόνδε συμφέρεται 
+πρῆγμα γίνεσθαι" ἐπεὰν τοῖσι ἀμφικτυόσι πᾶσι 
+τοῖσι ἀμφὶ ταύτης οἰκέουσι τῆς πόλιος μέλλῃ 
+τι ἐντὸς χρόνου ἔσεσθαι χαλεπόν, τότε 7) ἱερείη 
+αὐτόθι τῆς ᾿Λθηναίης φύει πώγωνα μέγαν. τοῦτο 
+δέ σφι δὶς ἤδη ἐγένετο. 
+
+105. ᾿Ιὺκ τούτων δὴ τῶν Πηδασέων ὁ Ἑρμότιμος 
+ἣν] τῷ μεγίστη τίσις ἤδη ἀδικηθέντι ἐγένετο 
+πάντων τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν. ἁλόντα γὰρ αὐτὸν ὑπὸ 
+πολεμίων καὶ πωλεόμενον ὠνέεται Πανιώνιος à ἀνὴρ 
+Χῖος, ὃ ὃς τὴν Conv κατεστήσατο dT ἔργων ἀνοσιω- 
+τάτων' ὅκως γὰρ κτήσαιτο παῖδας εἴδεος ἐπαμ- 
+μένους, ἐκτάμνων ἀγινέων ἐπώλεε ἐς Σάρδις τε 
+καὶ “Edeoov χρημάτων. μεγάλων. παρὰ γὰρ 
+τοῖσι βαρβάροισι τιμιώτεροι εἰσὶ οἱ εὐνοῦχοι 
+πίστιος εἵνεκα τῆς πάσης τῶν ἐνορχίων. ἄλλους 
+τε δὴ ὁ Πανιώνιος ἐξέταμε πολλούς, ἅτε ποιεύ- 
+μενος ἐκ τούτου τὴν Conv, καὶ δὴ καὶ τοῦτον. καὶ 
+οὐ yàp τὰ πάντα ἐδυστύχεε ὁ ᾿Βρμότιμος, ἀπι- 
+κνέεται ἐκ τῶν Σαρδίων παρὰ βασιλέα μετ᾽ 
+ἄλλων δώρων, χρόνου δὲ προϊόντος πάντων τῶν 
+εὐνούχων ἐτιμήθη μάλιστα παρὰ Ξέρξη. 
+
+106. Ὡς δὲ τὸ στράτευμα τὸ πο αν ὅρμα 
+Βασιλεὺς ἐπὶ τὰς ᾿Αθήνας € ἐὼν. ἐν Σάρδισι, ἐνθαῦτα 
+καταβὰς κατὰ δή τι πρῆγμα ὁ Ἑρμότιμος ἐς γῆν 
+τὴν | Μυσίην, τὴν l Aot μὲν νέμονται ᾿Αταρνεὺς δὲ 
+καλέεται, εὑρίσκει τὸν Πανιώνιον ἐνθαῦτα. ἐπι- 
+γνοὺς δὲ ἔλεγε πρὸς αὐτὸν πολλοὺς καὶ φιλίους 
+λόγους, πρῶτα μέν οἱ καταλέγων ὅσα αὐτὸς bv 
+ἐκεῖνον ἔχοι ἀγαθά, δεύτερα δέ οἱ ὑπισχνεύμενος 
+104 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 104-106 
+
+
+most honoured by Xerxes of all his eunuchs. The 
+people of Pedasa dwell above Halicarnassus. This 
+happens among these people: when aught untoward 
+is about to befall within a certain time all those 
+that dwell about their citv, the priestess of Athene 
+then grows a great beard. This had already happened 
+to them twice. 
+
+105. Hermotimus, who came from this place 
+Pedasa, had achieved a fuller vengeance for wrong 
+done to him than had any man within my knowledge. 
+Being taken captive by enemies and exposed for 
+sale, he was bought by one Panionius of Chios, a 
+man that had set himself to earn a livelihood out of 
+most wicked practices; he would procure beautiful 
+boys and castrate and take them to Sardis and 
+Ephesus, where he sold them for a great price ; for 
+the foreigners value eunuchs more than perfect men, 
+by reason of the full trust that they have in them. 
+Now among the many whom Panionius had castrated 
+in the way of trade was Hermotimus, who was not in 
+all things unfortunate; for he was brought from 
+Sardis among other gifts to the king, and as time 
+went on he stood higher in Xerxes' favour than any 
+other eunuch. 
+
+106. Now while the king was at Sardis and there 
+preparing to lead his Persian armament against 
+Athens, Hermotimus came for some business that he 
+had in hand down to the part of Mysia which is 
+inhabited by Chians and called Atarneus, and there 
+he found Panionius. Perceiving who he was, he 
+held long and friendly converse with him; “it is 
+to you," he said, *that I owe all this prosperity of 
+
+
+! The words in brackets are probably an interpolation, 
+from i. 175, where they oceur more appropriately. 
+
+
+105 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἀντὶ τούτων ὅσα μιν ἀγαθὰ ποιήσει ἦν κομίσας 
+τοὺς οἰκέτας οἰκέη ἐκείνῃ, ὥστε ὑποδεξάμενον 
+ἄσμενον τοὺς λόγους τὸν Πανιώνιον κομίσαι τὰ 
+τέκνα καὶ τὴν γυναῖκα. ὡς δὲ ἄρα πανοικίῃ μιν 
+περιέλαβε, ἔλεγε ὁ “Ἑρμότιμος τάδε. τ Ὢ πάντων 
+ἀνδρῶν ἤδη μάλιστα ἀπ᾽ ἔργων ἀνοσιωτάτων τὸν 
+βίον κτησάμενε, τί σε ἐγὼ κακὸν ἢ αὐτὸς ἢ τῶν 
+ἐμῶν τίς σε προγόνων ἐργάσατο, 7) σὲ ὴ τῶν. σῶν 
+τινα, ὅτι µε ἀντ᾽ ἀνδρὸς € ἐποίησας τὸ μηδὲν εἶναι ; ; 
+ἐδόκεές τε θεοὺς λήσειν οἷα ἐμηχανῶ͵ τότε' οἵ σε 
+πουήσαντα ἀνόσια, νόμῳ δικαίῳ χρεώμενοι, μας 
+γαγον ἐς χεῖρας τὰς ἐμάς, ὥστε σε μὴ μέμψασθ αι 
+τὴν ἀπ᾽ ἐμέο τοι ἐσομένην δίκην." ὡς δέ οἱ 
+ταῦτα ὠνείδισε, ἀχθέντων τῶν παίδων ἐς ὄψιν 
+ἠναγκάξετο ὁ Πανιώνιος τῶν ἑωυτοῦ παίδων 
+τεσσέρων ἐόντων τὰ αἰδοῖα ἀποτάμνειν, ἀναγκα- 
+ζόμενος δὲ ἐποίεε ταῦτα" αὐτοῦ τε, ὡς ταῦτα 
+ἐργάσατο, οἱ παῖδες ἀναγκαζόμενοι ἀπέταμνον. 
+Πανιώνιον μέν νυν οὕτω περιῆλθε Ñ τε τίσις καὶ 
+Ἑρμότιμος. 
+
+107. Ξέρξης δὲ ὡς τοὺς παῖδας ἐπέτρεψε 
+᾿Αρτεμισίῃ ἀπάγειν ἐς Ἔφεσον, καλέσας Μαρδό- 
+νιον ἐκέλευσέ μιν τῆς στρατιῆς διαλέγειν τοὺς 
+Βούλεται, καὶ ποιέειν τοῖσι λόγοισι τὰ ἔργα 
+πειρώμενον ὅμοια. ταύτην μὲν τὴν ἡμέρην ἐς 
+τοσοῦτο ἐγίνετο, τῆς δὲ νυκτὸς κελεύσαντος 
+βασιλέος, τὰς νέας οἱ στρατηγοὶ ἐκ τοῦ Φαλήρου 
+ἀπῆγον ὀπίσω ἐς τὸν Ἑλλήσποντον ὡς τάχεος 
+εἶχε ἕκαστος, διαφυλαξούσας τὰς σχεδίας πορευ- 
+θῆναι βασιλέι. ἐπεὶ δὲ ἀγχοῦ ἦσαν Ζωστῆρος 
+πλέοντες οἱ βάρβαροι, ἀνατείνουσι γὰρ ἄκραι 
+
+
+τού 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 106-107 
+
+
+mine; now if you will bring your household and 
+dwell here, I will make you prosperous in return,"— 
+promising this and that; Panionius accepted his 
+offer gladly, and brought his children and his wife. 
+But Hermotimus, having got the man and all his 
+household in his power, said to him: ‘Tell me, 
+you that have made a livelihood out of the wickedest 
+trade on earth! what harm had I or any of my fore- 
+fathers done to you, to you or yours, that you made 
+me to be no man, but a thing of nought? ay, you 
+thought that the gods would have no knowledge of 
+your devices of old; but their just law has brought 
+you for your wicked deeds into my hands, and now 
+you shall be well content with the fulness of that 
+justice which I will execute upon you." With these 
+words of reproach, he brought Panionius' sons before 
+him and compelled him to castrate all four of them, 
+his own children; this Panionius was compelled to 
+do; which done, the sons were compelled to castrate 
+their father in turn. Thus was Panionius overtaken 
+by vengeance and by Hermotimus. 
+
+107. Having given his sons to Artemisia’s charge 
+to be carried to Ephesus, Xerxes called Mardonius 
+to him and bade him choose out whom he would 
+from the army, and make his words good so far as 
+endeavour availed. For that day matters went thus 
+far; in the night, the admirals by the king's com- 
+mand put out to sea from Phalerum and made for 
+the Hellespont again with all speed, to guard the 
+bridges for the king's passage. When the foreigners 
+came near to the “Girdle”! in their course, they 
+thought that certain little headlands, which here jut 
+
+
+! A promontory on the west coast of Attica, between 
+Piraeus and Sunium, 
+
+
+107 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+λεπταὶ τῆς ἠπείρου ταύτης, ἔδοξάν τε νέας εἶναι 
+καὶ ἔφευγον ἐπὶ πολλόν" χρόνῳ δὲ μαθόντες ὅτι 
+οὐ νέες εἶεν ἀλλ. ἄκραι, συλλεχθέντες ἐκομίξοντο. 
+
+105. Ὡς δὲ ἡμέρη ἐγίνετο, ὁρῶντες οἱ "[ὕλληνες 
+κατὰ χώρην μένοντα τὸν στρατὸν τὸν πεζὸν 
+ἤλπιζον καὶ τὰς νέας εἶναι περὶ, ΦῬάληρον, ἐδόκεόν 
+τε ναυμαχήσειν σφέας παραρτέοντό τε ὡς ἀλεξη- 
+σόμενοι. ἐπεὶ δὲ ἐπύθοντο τὰς νέας οἰχωκυίας, 
+αὐτίκα μετὰ ταῦτα ἐδόκεε ἐπιδιώκειν. τὸν μέν 
+νυν ναυτικὸν τὸν Ἐέρξεω στρατὸν οὐκ ἐπεῖδον 
+διώξαντες μέχρι "Άνδρου, ἐς δὲ τὴν "Ἄνδρον art- 
+κόμενοι ἐβουλεύοντο. (Θεμιστοκλέης μέν νυν 
+γνώμην ἀπεδείκνυτο διὰ νήσων τραποµένους καὶ 
+ἐπιδιώξαντας τὰς νέας πλέειν ἰθέως ἐπὶ τὸν 
+Ἑλλήσποντον λύσοντας τὰς γεφύρας" Eùpv- 
+βιάδης δὲ τὴν ἐναντίην ταύτη γνώμην ἐτίθετο, 
+λέγων ὡς εἰ λύσουσι τὰς σχεδίας, τοῦτ' ἂν μέγι- 
+στον πάντων σφι κακῶν τὴν Ἑλλάδα ἐργάσαιτο. 
+εἰ γὰρ ἀναγκασθείη ὁ Πέρσης. μένειν ἐν τῇ 
+Εὐρώπῃ, πειρῷτο. ἂν ἡσυχίην μὴ ἄγειν, ὡς ἄγοντι 
+μέν οἱ ἡσυχίην οὔτε τι προχωρέειν οἷόν τε ἔσται 
+τῶν πρηγμάτων οὔτε τι κομιδὴ, τὰ ὀπίσω da- 
+νήσεται, λιμῷ τέ οἱ ἡ .στρατιὴ διαφθερέεται, 
+ἐπιχειρέοντι δὲ αὐτῷ καὶ ἔργου ἐχομένῳ πάντα 
+τὰ κατὰ τὴν Εὐρώπην οἷά τε ἔσται προσχωρῆσαι 
+κατὰ πόλις τε καὶ κατὰ ἔθνεα, } ἤτοι ἁλισκομένων 
+γε ἢ πρὸ τούτου ὁμολογεόντων: τροφήν τε ἕξειν 
+σφέας τὸν ἐπέτειον αἰεὶ τὸν τῶν Ἑλλήνων kap- 
+TOV. ἀλλὰ δοκέειν yàp νικηθέντα τῇ ναυμαχίῃ 
+οὗ μενέειν ἐν τῇ Εὐρώπῃ τὸν Πέρσην. ἑατέον ὧν 
+εἶναι φεύγειν, ἐς ὃ ἔλθοι φεύγων ἐς τὴν ἑωυτοῦ" 
+τὸ ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ περὶ τῆς ἐκείνου ποιέεσθαι ἤδη τὸν 
+108 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 107-108 
+
+
+out from the mainland, were ships, and they fled for 
+a long way ; but learning at last that they were no 
+ships but headlands they drew together and went 
+on their way. 
+
+108. When it was day, the Greeks saw the land 
+army abiding where it had been and supposed the 
+ships also to be at Phalerum; and thinking that 
+there would be a sea-fight they prepared to defend 
+themselves. But when they learnt that the ships 
+were gone, they straightway resolved on pursuit; so 
+they pursued Xerxes' fleet as far as Andros, but had 
+no sight of it; and when they came to Andros they 
+held a council there. Themistocles declared his 
+opinion that they should hold their course through 
+the islands, and having pursued after the ships 
+should sail forthwith to the Hellespont to break the 
+bridges; but Eurybiades offered a contrary opinion, 
+saying that to break the bridges would be the 
+greatest harm that they could do to Hellas. “ For," 
+said he, “if the Persian be cut off and compelled to 
+remain in Europe, he will essay not to be inactive, 
+seeing that if he be inactive neither can his cause 
+prosper nor can he find any way of return home, but 
+his army will perish of hunger; but if he be ad- 
+venturous and busy, it may well be that every town 
+and nation in Europe may join itself to him severally, 
+by conquest or ere that by compact; and he will live 
+on whatsoever yearly fruits of the earth Hellas 
+produces. But,as I think that the Persian will not 
+remain in Europe after his defeat in the sea-fight, 
+let us suffer bim to flee, till he come in his flight to 
+his own country; and thereafter let it be that 
+country and not ours that is at stake in the war." 
+
+
+109 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἀγῶνα ἐκέλευε. ταύτης δὲ εἴχοντο τῆς γνώμης 
+καὶ Πελοποννησίων τῶν ἄλλων οὗ στρατηγοί. 
+
+109. Ὡς δὲ ἔμαθε ὅτι οὐ πείσει τούς γε πολλοὺς 
+πλέειν ἐς τὸν ᾿Ελλήσποντον ὁ Θεμιστοκλέης, 
+μεταβαλὼν πρὸς τοὺς ᾿Αθηναίους (οὗτοι γὰρ 
+μάλιστα ἐκπεφευγότων περιημέκτεον, ὁρμέατό τε 
+ἐς τὸν Ἑλλήσποντον πλέειν καὶ ἐπὶ σφέων αὐτῶν 
+βαλόμενοι, εἰ οἱ ἄλλοι μὴ βουλοίατο) ἔλεγέ σφι 
+τάδε, “ Καὶ αὐτὸς ἤδη πολλοῖσι παρεγενόμην 
+καὶ πολλῷ πλέω ἀκήκοα τοιάδε γενέσθαι, ἄνδρας 
+ἐς ἀναγκαίην. ἀπειληθέντας νενικημένους ἀναμά- 
+χεσθαί τε καὶ ἀναλαμβάνειν τὴν προτέρην κακό- 
+τητα. ἡμεῖς δέ, εὕρημα γὰρ εὑρήκαμεν ἡμέας τε 
+αὐτοὺς καὶ τὴν “Ελλάδα, νέφος τοσοῦτο ἀνθρώπων 
+ἀνωσάμενοι, μὴ διώκωμεν ἄνδρας φεύγοντας. τάδε 
+γὰρ οὐκ ἡμεῖς κατεργασάμεθα, ἀλλὰ θεοί τε καὶ 
+ἥρωες, οἳ ἐφθόνησαν ἄνδρα ἕνα τῆς τε ᾿Ασίης καὶ 
+τῆς Εὐρώπης. βασιλεῦσαι ἐόντα ἀνόσιόν τε καὶ 
+ἀτάσθαλον" ὃς τά τε ipa καὶ τὰ ἴδια ἐν ὁμοίῳ 
+ἐποιέετο, ἐμπιπράς τε καὶ καταβάλλων τῶν θεῶν 
+τὰ ἀγάλματα: ὃς καὶ τὴν θάλασσαν ἀπεμα- 
+στίγωσε πέδας τε κατῆκε. ἀλλ᾽ εὖ γὰρ ἔχει ἐς 
+τὸ παρεὸν ἡμῖν, νῦν μὲν ἐν τῇ Ελλάδι καταμεί- 
+ναντας ἡμέων τε αὐτῶν ἐπιμεληθῆναι καὶ τῶν 
+οὐκετέων, καί τις οἰκίην τε ἀναπλασάσθω καὶ 
+σπόρου ἀνακῶς ἐχέτω, παντελέως ἀπελάσας τὸν 
+βάρβαρον' apa δὲ τῷ ἔαρι καταπλέωμεν ἐπὶ 
+Ἑλλησπόντου καὶ ᾿Ιωνίης.᾽ ταῦτα ἔλεγε ἀπο- 
+θήκην μέλλων ποιήσασθαι ἐς τὸν Πέρσην, ἵνα 
+7v apa τί μιν καταλαμβάνῃ πρὸς ᾿Αθηναίων 
+πάθος ἔχῃ ἀποστροφήν' τά περ ὧν καὶ ἐγένετο. 
+
+110. Θεμιστοκλέης μὲν ταῦτα λέγων διέβαλλε, 
+IIO 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 108-110 
+
+
+With that opinion the rest of the Peloponnesian 
+admirals also agreed. 
+
+109. When Themistocles perceived that he could 
+not persuade the greater part of them to sail to the 
+Hellespont, he turned to the Athenians (for they 
+were the angriest at the Persians' escape, and they 
+were minded to sail to the Hellespont even by 
+themselves, if the rest would not) and thus addressed 
+them: “This 1 have often seen with my eyes, and 
+much oftener heard, that beaten men when they be 
+driven to bay will rally and retrieve their former 
+mishap. Wherefore I say to you,—as it is to a 
+fortunate chance that we owe ourselves and Hellas, 
+and have driven away so mighty a cloud of encmies, 
+let us not pursue after men that flee. For it is not 
+we that have won this victory, but the gods and the 
+heroes, who deemed Asia and Europe too great a 
+realm for one man to rule, and that a wicked man 
+and an impious; one that dealt alike with temples 
+and homes, and burnt and overthrew the images ot 
+the gods,—yea, that scourged the sea and threw 
+fetters thereinto. But as it is well with us for the 
+nonce, let us abide now in Hellas and take thought 
+for ourselves and our households; let us build our 
+houses again and be diligent in sowing, when we have 
+driven the foreigner wholly away; and when the 
+next spring comes let us set sail for the Hellespont 
+and lonia." This he said with intent to put some- 
+what to his credit with the Persian, so that he 
+might have a place of refuge if ever (as might 
+chance) he should suffer aught at the hands of the 
+Athenians; and indeed it did so happen. 
+
+110. Thus spoke Themistocles with intent to 
+
+
+III 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+᾿Αθηναῖοι δὲ ἐπείθοντο"' ἐπειδὴ γὰρ καὶ πρότερον 
+δεδογμένος εἶναι σοφὸς ἐφάνη ἐὼν ἀληθέως σοφός 
+τε καὶ εὔβουλος, πάντως ἕτοιμοι ἦσαν λέγοντι 
+πείθεσθαι. ὡς δὲ οὗτοί οἱ ἀνεγνωσμένοι ἦσαν, 
+αὐτίκα μετὰ ταῦτα ὁ Θεμιστοκλέης ἄνδρας. ἀπέ- 
+πέμπε ἔχοντας πλοῖον, τοῖσι ἐπίστευε σιγᾶν ἐς 
+πᾶσαν βάσανον ἀπικνεομένοισι τὰ αὐτὸς ἐνετεί- 
+λατο βασιλέι φράσαι' τῶν καὶ Σίκιννος 0 οἰκέτης 
+αὗτις ἐγένετο" οἳ ἐπείτε ἀπίκοντο πρὸς τὴν ᾿Αττι- 
+κήν, οἳ μὲν κατέμενον ἐπὶ τῷ πλοίῳ, Σίκιννος δὲ 
+ἀναβὰς παρὰ Ξέρξην ἔλεγε τάδε. “ Ἔπεμψέ με 
+Θεμιστοκλέης ὁ Νεοκλέος, στρατηγὸς μὲν ᾿Αθη- 
+ναίων ἀνὴρ δὲ τῶν συμμάχων. πάντων ἄριστος 
+καὶ σοφώτατος, φράσοντά τοι ὅτι Θεμιστοκλέης 
+ὁ ᾿Αθηναῖος, σοὶ βουλόμενος ὑπουργέειν, ἔσχε 
+τοὺς “[ζλληνας τὰς νέας βουλομένους διώκειν καὶ 
+τὰς ἐν Ἑλλησπόντω γεφύρας λύειν. καὶ νῦν 
+κατ᾽ ἡσυχίην πολλὴν κομίξεο.᾽ οἳ μὲν ταῦτα 
+σημήναντες ἀπέπλεον ὀπίσω. 
+
+ΠΠ. δὲ "Έλληνες, € ἐπείτε σφι ἀπέδοξε μήτ᾽ 
+ἐπιδιώκειν ἔτι προσωτέρω τῶν βαρβάρων τὰς 
+νέας μήτε πλέειν ἐς τὸν Ἠλλήσποντον λύσοντας 
+τὸν πόρον, τὴν Ἄνδρον περικατέατο ἐξελεῖν ebé- 
+λοντες. πρῶτοι γὰρ "Άνδριοι, νησιωτέων αἰτη- 
+θέντες πρὸς Θεμιστοκλέος χρήματα οὐκ ἔδοσαν, 
+ἀλλὰ προϊσχομένου Θεμιστοκλέος λόγον τόνδε, 
+ὡς ἥκοιεν ᾿Αθηναῖοι περὶ ἑωυτοὺς ἔχοντες δύο 
+θεοὺς μεγάλους, πειθώ τε καὶ ἀναγκαίην, οὕτω 
+τέ σφι κάρτα δοτέα εἶναι χρήματα, ὑπεκρίναντο 
+πρὸς ταῦτα λέγοντες ὡς κατὰ λόγον ἦσαν ἄρα 
+αἱ ᾿Αθῆναι μεγάλαι τε καὶ εὐδαίμονες, αἳ καὶ 
+θεῶν χρηστῶν ἥκοιεν εὖ, ἐπεὶ ᾿Ανδρίους γε εἶναι 
+
+
+112 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. r1o-r11 
+
+
+deceive, and the Athenians obeyed him ; for since he 
+had ever been esteemed wise and now had shown 
+himself to be both wise and prudent, they were 
+ready to obey whatsoever he said. Having won 
+them over, Themistocles straightway sent men 
+in a boat whom he could trust not to reveal under 
+any question whatsoever the message which he 
+charged them to deliver to the king; of whom one 
+was again his servant Sicinnus. When these men 
+came to Attica, the rest abode with the boat, and 
+Sicinnus went up to Xerxes; * Themistocles son of 
+Neocles," he said, * who is the Athenian general, 
+and of all the allies the worthiest and wisest, has 
+sent me to tell you this: Themistocles the Athenian 
+has out of his desire to do you a service stayed the 
+Greeks when they would pursue your ships and 
+break the bridges of the Hellespont; and now he 
+bids you go your way, none hindering you." With 
+that message, the men returned in their boat. 
+
+111. But the Greeks, now that they were no longer 
+minded to pursue the foreigners' ships farther or sail 
+to the Hellespont and break the way of passage, 
+beleaguered Andros that they might take it. For 
+the men of that place, the first islanders of whom 
+Themistocles demanded money, would not give it; 
+but when Themistocles gave them to understand 
+that the Athenians had come with two great gods to 
+aid them, even Persuasion and Necessity, and that 
+therefore the Andrians must assuredly give money, 
+they answered and said, “It is then but reasonable 
+that Athens is great and prosperous, being blest with 
+serviceable gods; as for us Andrians, we are but 
+
+
+ΤΙ; 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+γεωπείνας ἐς τὰ μέγιστα ἀνήκοντας, καὶ θεοὺς 
+δύο ἀχρήστους οὐκ ἐκλείπειν σφέων τὴν νῆσον 
+ἀλλ) αἰεὶ φιλοχωρέειν, πενίην τε καὶ ἀμηχανίην, 
+καὶ τούτων τῶν θεῶν ἐπηβόλους ἐ ἐόντας ᾿Ανδρίους 
+οὐ δώσειν χρήματα" οὐδέκοτε γὰρ τῆς ἑωυτῶν 
+ἀδυναμίης τὴν ᾿Αθηναίων δύναμιν εἶναι κρέσσω. 
+
+112. Οὗτοι μὲν δὴ ταῦτα ὑποκρινάμενοι καὶ 
+οὐ δόντες τὰ χρήματα ἐπολιορκέοντο. Θεμιστο- 
+κλέης δέ, οὐ yap ἐπαύετο πλεονεκτέων, ἐσπέμπων 
+ἐς τὰς ἄλλας νήσους ἀπειλητηρίους λόγους αἴτεε 
+χρήματα διὰ τῶν αὐτῶν ἀγγέλων, χρεώμενος 
+τοῖσι καὶ πρὸς βασιλέα ἐχρήσατο, λέγων ὡς εὖ 
+μὴ δώσουσι τὸ αἱτεόμενον, ἐπάξει τὴν στρατιὴν 
+τῶν Ἑλλήνων καὶ πολιορκέων ἐξαιρήσει. λέγων 
+ταῦτα ᾿συνέλεγε χρήματα μεγάλα παρὰ Καρυστίων 
+τε καὶ Παρίων, ot πυνθανόµενοι τήν τε Ἄνδρον 
+ὡς πολιορκέοιτο διότι ἐμήδισε, καὶ Θεμιστοκλέα 
+ὡς εἴη ἐν αἴνῃ μεγίστῃ τῶν στρατηγῶν, δείσαντες 
+ταῦτα ἔπεμπον χρήματα. εἰ δὲ δὴ τινὲς καὶ 
+ἄλλοι ἔδοσαν νησιωτέων, οὐκ ἔχω εὐπεῖν, δοκέω 
+δὲ τινὰς καὶ ἄλλους δοῦναι καὶ ov τούτους μούνους. 
+καίτοι Ιζαρυστίοισί γε οὐδὲν τούτου εἵνεκα τοῦ 
+κακοῦ ὑπερβολὴ ἐγένετο' Πάριοι δὲ Θεμιστοκλέα 
+χρήµασι ἱλασάμενοι διέφυγον τὸ στράτευμα. 
+Θεμιστοκλέης μέν νυν ἐξ "Άνδρου ὁρμώμενος 
+χρήματα παρὰ νησιωτέων ἐκτᾶτο λάθρῃ τῶν 
+ἄλλων στρατηγῶν. 
+
+115. Οἱ ὃ ἀμφὶ Ξέρξην ἐπισχόντες ὀλίγας 
+ἡμέρας μετὰ τὴν ναυμαχίην ἐξήλαυνον ἐς Βοιωτοὺς 
+τὴν αὐτὴν ὁδόν. ἔδοξε. γὰρ Μαρδονίῳ ἅμα μὲν 
+προπέμψαι βασιλέα, ἅμα δὲ ἀνωρίη εἶναι τοῦ 
+ἔτεος πολεμέειν, χειμερίσαι τε ἄμεινον εἶναι ἐν 
+
+
+114 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 111-113 
+
+
+blest with a plentiful lack of land, and we have two 
+unserviceable gods who never quit our island but are 
+ever fain to dwell there, even Poverty and Im- 
+potence; being possessed of these gods, we of 
+Andros will give no money ; for the power of Athens 
+can never be stronger than our inability." 
+
+112. So for thus answering and refusing to give 
+they were besieged. There was no end to Themis- 
+tocles' avarice ; using the same agents whom he had 
+used with the king, he sent threatening messages 
+to the other islands, demanding money, and saying 
+that if they would not give what he asked he would 
+bring the Greek armada upon them and besiege and 
+take their islands. Thereby he collected great sums 
+from the Carystians and Parians; for these were 
+informed that Andros was besieged for taking the 
+Persian part, and that Themistocles was of all the 
+generals the most esteemed; which so affrighted 
+them that they sent money; and I suppose that 
+there were other islanders too that gave, and not 
+these alone, but I cannot with certainty say. Never- 
+theless the Carystians got thereby no respite from 
+misfortune ; but the Parians propitiated Themistocles 
+with money and so escaped the armament. So 
+Themistocles issued out from Andros and took 
+monies from the islanders, unknown to the other 
+generals. 
+
+113. They that were with Xerxes waited for a 
+few days after the sea-fight and then marched 
+away to Boeotia by the road whereby they had 
+come ; for Mardonius was minded to give the king 
+safe conduct, and deemed the time of year un- 
+seasonable for war; it was better, he thought, to 
+
+
+IIS 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Θεσσαλίῃ, καὶ ἔπειτα ἅμα τῷ ἔαρι πειρᾶσθαι 
+τῆς Πελοποννήσου. ὡς δὲ ἀπίκατο és τὴν Ώεσσα- 
+λίην, ἐνθαῦτα Μαρδόνιος ἐξελέγετο πρώτους μὲν 
+τοὺς Πέρσας πάντας τοὺς ἀθανάτους καλεομένους, 
+πλ.ὴν Ὑδάρνεος τοῦ στρατηγοῦ (οὗτος γὰρ οὐκ 
+ἔφη λείψεσθαι βασιλέος), μετὰ δὲ τῶν ἄλλων 
+Περσέων τοὺς θωρηκοφόρους καὶ τὴν ἵππον τὴν 
+χιλίην, καὶ Μήδους τε καὶ Σάκας καὶ Βακτρίους 
+τε καὶ Ινδούς, καὶ τὸν πεζὸν καὶ τὴν ἄλλην 
+ἵππον. ταῦτα μὲν ἔθνεα ὅλα εἶλετο, ἐκ δὲ τῶν 
+ἄλλων συμμάχων ἐξελέγετο. κατ᾽ ὀλίγους, τοῖσι 
+εἴδεά τε ὑπῆρχε διαλέγων καὶ εἰ τεοῖσι τι χρηστὸν 
+συνῇδεε πεποιημένον: ἓν δὲ πλεῖστον ἔθνος Πέρσας 
+αἱρέετο, ἄνδρας στρεπτοφόρους τε καὶ ψελιοφό- 
+ρους, ἐπὶ δὲ Movs οὗτοι δὲ TO πλῆθος n οὐκ 
+ἐλάσσονες ἦσαν τῶν Περσέων, ῥώμῃ δὲ ἥσσονες. 
+ὥστε σύμπαντας τριήκοντα μυριάδας γενέσθαι 
+σὺν ἱππεῦσι. 
+
+114. Ἔν δὲ τούτῳ τῷ χρόνῳ, ἐν τῷ Μαρδόνιός 
+τε τὴν στρατιὴν διέκρινε καὶ E ép£ns ἦν περὶ 
+Θεσσαλίην, χρηστήριον ἐληλύθεε ἐκ Δελφῶν 
+Λακεδαιμονίοισι, Ἐέρξην αἰτέειν δίκας τοῦ Λεων- 
+ίδεω φόνου καὶ τὸ διδόµενον ἐξ ἐκείνου δέκεσθαι. 
+πέμπουσι δὴ κήρυκα τὴν ταχίστην Σπαρτιῆται, 
+ὃς ἐπειδὴ κατέλαβε ἐοῦσαν ἔτι πᾶσαν THY oT pa- 
+τιὴν ἐν Θεσσαλίῃ, ἐλθὼν ἐς ὄψιν τὴν Ξέρξεω 
+ἔλεγε τάδε. pu βασιλεῦ Me», Λακεδαιμόνιοί 
+τέ σε καὶ Ἡρακλεῖδαι οἱ ἀπὸ Σπάρτης αἰτέουσι 
+φόνου δίκας, ὅτι σφέων τὸν βασιλέα ἀπέκτεινας 
+ῥυόμενον τὴν “Ελλάδα. ὃ δὲ γελάσας τε καὶ 
+κατασχὼν πολλὸν χρόνον, ὥς οἱ ἐτύγχανε παρε- 
+116 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 113-114 
+
+
+winter in Thessaly, and then attack the Peloponnese 
+in the spring. When they were arrived in Thessaly, 
+Mardonius there chose out first all the Persians 
+called Immortals, save only Hydarnes their general, 
+who said that he would not quit the king’s person ; 
+and next, the Persian cuirassiers, and the thousand 
+horse,! and the Medes and Sacae and Bactrians and 
+Indians, alike their footmen and the rest of the 
+horsemen. He chose these nations entire; of the 
+rest of his allies he picked out a few from each 
+people, the goodliest men and those that he knew 
+to have done some good service; but the Persians 
+that he chose (men that wore torques and bracelets)? 
+were more in number than those of any other nation, 
+and next to them the Medes; these indeed were as 
+many as the Persians, but not so stout fighters. 
+Thereby the whole number, with the horsemen, 
+grew to three hundred thousand men. 
+
+114. Now while Mardonius was making choice of 
+his army and Xerxes was in Thessaly, there came an 
+oracle from Delphi to the Lacedaemonians, that they 
+should demand justice of Xerxes for the slaying of 
+Leonidas, and take what answer he should give 
+them. The Spartans then sent a herald with all 
+speed; who finding the army yet undivided in 
+Thessaly, came into Xerxes’ presence and thus 
+spoke: * The Lacedaemonians and the Heraclidae 
+of Sparta demand of you, king of the Medes! that 
+you pay the penalty for the death of their king, 
+whom you slew while he defended Hellas." At 
+that Xerxes laughed ; and after a long while he 
+
+
+! Two regiments of a thousand horse are mentioned in 
+vii. 40 and 55 3 cp. vi. 83. 
+117 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+a reos Μαρδόνιος, δεικνὺς ἐς τοῦτον εἶπε “ Τοιγὰρ 
+σφι Μαρδόνιος ὅδε δίκας δώσει τοιαύτας olas 
+ἐκείνοισι πρέπει. 
+
+115. Ὃ μὲν δὴ δεξάμενος τὸ ῥηθὲν ἀπαλλάσ- 
+σετο, Ξέρξης δὲ Μαρδόνιον ἐν Θεσσαλίῃ κατα- 
+λιπὼν αὐτὸς ἐπορεύετο κατὰ τάχος ἐς τὸν 
+ane ahaha: καὶ ἀπικνέεται ἐς τὸν πόρον τῆς 
+δια βάσιος ἐν πέντε καὶ τεσσεράκοντα. ἡμέρῃσι, 
+ἀπάγων τῆς στρατιῆς οὐδὲν μέρος ὡς εἰπεῖν. 
+ὅκου δὲ πορευόμενοι γινοίατο καὶ κατ᾿ οὕστινας 
+ἀνθρώπους, τὸν τούτων καρπὸν. .ἁρπάξοντες ἐσι- 
+τέοντο" εὖ δὲ καρπὸν μηδένα εὕροιεν, οἳ δὲ τὴν 
+ποίην τὴν ἐκ τῆς γῆς ἀναφυομένην καὶ τῶν 
+δενδρέων τὸν φλοιὸν περιλέποντες καὶ τὰ φύλλα 
+καταδρέποντες κατήσθιον, ὁμοίως τῶν τε ἡμέρων 
+καὶ τῶν ἀγρίων, καὶ ἔλειπον οὐδέν: ταῦτα 
+ἐποίεον ὑπὸ λιμοῦ. ἐπιλαβὼν δὲ λοιμός τε τὸν 
+στρατὸν καὶ δυσεντερίη κατ᾽ ὁδὸν ἔφθειρε. τοὺς 
+δὲ καὶ νοσέοντας αὐτῶν κατέλειπε, ἐπιτάσσων 
+τῇσι πόλισι, ἵνα ἑκάστοτε γίνοιτο ἐλαύνων, μελε- 
+δαίνειν τε καὶ τρέφειν, ἐν Θεσσαλίῃ τε τινὰς καὶ 
+ἐν Σίρι τῆς Παιονίης καὶ ἐν Μακεδονίῃ. ἔνθα 
+καὶ τὸ (ρὸν ἅρμα καταλιπὼν τοῦ Διός, ὅτε ἐπὶ 
+τὴν “Ελλάδα ἤλαυνε, ἀπιὼν οὐκ ἀπέλαβε, ἀλλὰ 
+δόντες οἱ [Παίονες τοῖσι Θρήιξι ἀπαιτέοντος 
+Ξέρξεω ἔφασαν νεμομένας ἁρπασθῆναι ὑπὸ τῶν 
+ἄνω Θρηίκων τῶν περὶ τὰς πηγὰς τοῦ Στρυμόνος 
+οἰκημένων. 
+
+116. “Ev@a καὶ ὁ τῶν Βισαλτέων βασιλεὺς γῆς 
+τε τῆς Ἐρηστωνικῆς Θρῆιξ ἔργον προς ἐργά- 
+σατο' ὃς οὔτε αὐτὸς ἔφη τῷ Ξέρξῃ ἑκὼν εἶναι 
+δουλεύσειν, ἀλλ᾽ οἴχετο ἄνω ἐς τὸ ὄρος τὴν 
+118 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 114-116 
+
+
+pointed to Mardonius, who chanced to be standing 
+by him, and said, “Then here is Mardonius, who 
+shall pay those you speak of such penalty as befits 
+them." 
+
+115. So the herald took that utterance and de- 
+parted ; but Xerxes left Mardonius in Thessaly, and 
+himself journeying with all speed to the Hellespont 
+came in forty-five days to the passage for crossing, 
+bringing back with him as good as none (if one may 
+so say) of his host. Whithersoever and to whatso- 
+ever people they came, they seized and devoured its 
+produce ; and if they found none, they would take for 
+their eating the grass of the field, and strip the bark 
+and pluck the leaves of the trees, garden and wild 
+alike, leaving nothing; so starved they were for 
+hunger. Moreover a pestilence and a dysentery 
+broke out among them on their way, whereby 
+they died. Some that were sick Xerxes left be- 
+hind, charging the cities whither he came in his 
+march to care for them and nourish them, some in 
+Thessaly and some in Siris of Paeonia and in Mace- 
+donia; in Siris he had left the sacred chariot of 
+Zeus when he was marching to Hellas, but in his 
+return he received it not again ; for the Paeonians 
+had given it to the Thracians, and when Xerxes 
+demanded it back they said that the horses had 
+been carried off from pasture by the Thracians of 
+the hills who dwelt about the headwaters of the 
+Strymon. 
+
+116. It was then that a monstrous deed was done 
+by the Thracian king of the Bisaltae and the Cres- 
+tonian country. He had refused to be of his own 
+free will Xerxes slave, and fled away to the 
+
+
+119 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Ῥοδόπην, τοῖσί τε παισὶ ἀπηγόρευε μὴ στρα- 
+τεύεσθαι ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα. οἳ δὲ ἀλογήσαντες, 
+ἢ ἄλλως σφι θυμὸς ἐγένετο θεήσασθαι τὸν πόλε- 
+μον, ἐστρατεύοντο ἅμα τῷ ΠἩέρσῃ. ἐπεὶ δὲ 
+ἀνεχώρησαν ἀσινέες πάντες ἓξ ἐόντες, ἐξώρυξε 
+αὐτῶν ὁ πατὴρ τοὺς ὀφθαλμοὺς διὰ τὴν αἰτίην 
+ταύτην. 
+
+uu Ka! οὗτοι μὲν τοῦτον τὸν μισθὸν ἔλαβον, 
+
+E Πέρσαι ὡς ἐκ τῆς Θρηίκης πορευόμενοι 
+ἀπίκοντο ἐπὶ τὸν πόρον, ἐπειγόμενοι τὸν Ἑλλη- 
+σποντον That νηυσὶ διέβησαν ἐς ᾿Αβνυδον' τὰς 
+γὰρ σχεδίας οὐκ εὗρον ἔτι ἐντεταμένας ἀλλ᾽ ὑπὸ 
+χειμῶνος διαλελυμένας. ἐνθαῦτα δὲ κατεχόμενοι 
+σιτία τε πλέω ἢ KAT ὁδὸν ἐλάγχανον, καὶ οὐδένα 
+τε κόσμον ἐμπιπλάμενοι καὶ ὕδατα μεταβάλλοντες 
+ἀπέθνησκον τοῦ στρατοῦ τοῦ περιεόντος πολλού. 
+οἱ δὲ λοιποὶ ἅμα Ξέρξη ἀπικνέονται ἐς Σάρδις. 
+
+118. "Eor: δὲ καὶ ἄλλος ὅδε λόγος Ἀεγόμενος, 
+ὡς ἐπειδὴ Ξέρξης ἀπελαύνων e£ Δθηνέων à ἀπίκετο 
+em ᾿Ηιόνα τὴν ἐπὶ Στρυμόνι, ἐνθεῦτεν οὐκέτι 
+ὁδοιπορίῃσι διεχρᾶτο, ἀλλὰ τὴν μὲν στρατιὴν 
+ὝὙδάρνεϊ € ἐπιτράπει ἀπάγειν ἐς τὸν Ἑλλήσποντον, 
+αὐτὸς δ᾽ ἐπὶ νεὸς Φοινίσσης ἐπιβὰς ἐκομίζετο ἐς 
+τὴν ᾿Ασίην. πλέοντα δέ μιν ἄνεμον Στρυμονίην 
+ὑπολαβεῖν μέγαν καὶ κυματίην.. καὶ δὴ μᾶλλον 
+γάρ τι χειμαίνεσθαι γεμούσης τῆς νεός, ὥστε ἐπὶ 
+τοῦ καταστρώματος ἐπεόντων συχνῶν Περσέων 
+τῶν σὺν Ξέρξῃ κομιζομένων, ἐνθαῦτα ἐς δεῖμα 
+πεσόντα τὸν βασιλέα εἰρέσθαι βώσαντα τὸν 
+κυβερνήτην εἴ τις ἐστί σφι σωτηρίη, καὶ τὸν 
+εἶπαι ''Δέσποτα, οὐκ ἔστι οὐδεμία, εἰ μὴ τούτων 
+ἀπαλλαγὴ τις γένηται τῶν πολλῶν ἐπιβατέων. 
+120 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 116-118 
+
+
+mountains called Rhodope; and he forbade his 
+sons to go with the army to Hellas; but they took 
+no account of that, for they had ever a desire to see 
+the war, and they followed the Persians’ march ; for 
+which cause, when all the six of them returned back 
+scatheless, their father tore out their eyes. 
+
+117. This was their reward. But the Persians, 
+journeying through Thrace to the passage, made 
+haste to cross to Abydos in their ships; for they 
+found the bridges no longer made fast but broken 
+by astorm. There their march was stayed, and more 
+food was given them than on their way ; and by reason 
+of their immoderate gorging and the change of the 
+water which they drank, many of the army that yet 
+remained died. The rest came with Xerxes to 
+Sardis. 
+
+118. But there is another tale, which is this :— 
+When Xerxes came in his march from Athens to 
+Eion on the Strymon, he travelled no farther than 
+that by land, but committed his army to Hydarnes 
+to be led to the Hellespont, and himself embarked 
+and set sail for Ασία in a Phoenician ship. In which 
+voyage he was caught by a strong wind called 
+Strymonian, that lifted up the waves. This storm 
+bearing the harder upon him by reason of the heavy 
+lading of the ship (for the Persians of his company 
+that were on the deck were so many), the king was 
+affrighted and cried to the ship's pilot asking him if 
+there were any way of deliverance ; whereat the man 
+said, “ Sire, there is none, except there be a riddance 
+of these many that are on board," Hearing that, it 
+
+111 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+καὶ Ἑέρξην λέγεται ἀκούσαντα ταῦτα εἰπεῖν 
+««"Ανδρες Πέρσαι, νῦν τις διαδεξάτω ὑμέων βασι- 
+λέος κηδόµενος: ἐν ὑμῖν γὰρ oike εἶναι ἐμοὶ ἡ 
+σωτηρίη. τὸν μὲν ταῦτα λέγειν, τοὺς δὲ προσκυ- 
+νέοντας ἐκπηδᾶν ἐς τὴν θάλασσαν, καὶ τὴν νέα 
+ἐπικουφισθεῖσαν οὕτω δὴ ἀποσωθῆναι ἐς τὴν 
+"Acinv. ὡς δὲ ἐκβῆναι. τάχιστα ἐς γῆν τὸν 
+Ξέρξην, ποιῆσαι τοιόνδε' ὅτι uev ἔσωσε βασιλέος 
+τὴν ψυχήν, δωρήσασθαι χρυσέῃ στεφάνῃ τὸν 
+κυβερνήτην, ὅτι δὲ Περσέων πολλοὺς ἀπώλεσε, 
+ἀποταμεῖν τὴν κεφαλὴν αὐτοῦ. 
+
+119. Οὗτος δὲ ἄλλος λέγεται λόγος περὶ τοῦ 
+Ξέρξεω νόστου, οὐδαμῶς ἔμοιγε πιστὸς οὔτε 
+ἄλλως οὔτε τὸ Γ]ερσέων τοῦτο πάθος: εἰ γὰρ 
+δὴ ταῦτα οὕτω εἰρέθη ἐκ τοῦ κυβερνήτεω πρὸς 
+Ἐερξην, ev μυρίῃσι γνώμῃσι μίαν οὐκ ἔχω 
+ἀντίξοον μὴ οὐκ ἂν ποιῆσαι βασιλέα τοιόνδε, 
+τοὺς μὲν ἐπὶ τοῦ καταστρώματος καταβιβάσαι 
+ἐς κοίλην νέα ἐόντας Πέρσας καὶ Περσέων τοὺς 
+πρώτους, τῶν Ò ἐρετέων ἐόντων Φοινίκων ὅκως 
+οὐκ ἂν ἴσον πλῆθος τοῖσι Πέρσῃσι ἐξέβαλε ἐς 
+τὴν θάλασσαν. ἀλλ. ὃ μέν, ὡς καὶ πρότερόν μοι 
+εἴρηται, ὁδῷ Χρεώμενος ἅμα τῷ ἄλλῳ στρατῷ 
+ἀπενόστησε ἐς τὴν ᾿Ασίην. 
+
+120. Μέγα δὲ καὶ τόδε μαρτύριον: Φαίνεται 
+γὰρ Ξέρξης ἐν τῇ ὀπίσω κομιδῇ ἀπικόμενος ἐς 
+"Άβδηρα καὶ ξεινίην τέ σφι συνθέµενος καὶ 
+ωρησάμενος αὐτοὺς ἀκινάκῃ τε χρυσέῳ καὶ τιήρη 
+χρυσοπάστῳ. καὶ ὡς αὐτοὶ λέγουσι ᾿Αβδηρῖται, 
+λέγοντες ἔμοιγε οὐδαμῶς πιστά, πρῶτον ἐλύσατο 
+τὴν ζώνην φεύγων ἐξ ᾿Αθηνέων ὀπίσω, ὡς ἐν 
+ἀδείη ἐών. τὰ δὲ "Άβδηρα ἵδρυται πρὸς τοῦ 
+122 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 118-120 
+
+
+is said, Xerxes said to the Persians, * Now it is for 
+you to prove yourselves careful for your king ; for 
+it seems that my deliverance rests with you"; 
+whereat they did obeisance and leapt into the sea; 
+and the ship, being thus lightened, came by these 
+means safe to Asia. No sooner had Xerxes dis- 
+embarked on land, than he made the pilot a gift 
+of a golden crown for saving the king's life, but 
+cut off his head for being the death of many 
+Persians. 
+
+119. This is the other tale of Xerxes' return ; but 
+I for my part believe neither the story of the Persians’ 
+fate, nor any other part of it. For if indeed the 
+pilot had spoken to Xerxes as aforesaid, I think that 
+there is not one in ten thousand but would say that 
+the king would have bidden the men on deck (who 
+were Persians and of the best blood of Persia) 
+descend into the ship's hold, and would have taken 
+of the Phoenician rowers a number equal to the 
+number of the Persians and cast them into the 
+sea. Nay, the truth is that Xerxes did as I have 
+already said, and returned to Asia with his army 
+by road. 
+
+120. And herein too lies a clear proof of it: it is 
+known that when Xerxes came to Abdera in his 
+return he entered into bonds of friendship with its 
+people, and gave them a golden sword and a gilt 
+tiara; and as the people of Abdera say (but for my 
+part I wholly disbelieve them), it was here that 
+Xerxes in his flight back from Athens first loosed 
+his girdle,! as being here in safety. Now Abdera 
+
+1 (p. perhaps v. 106, where Histiaeus swears to Darius 
+that he will not take off his tunic till he reaches Ionia; or 
+the reference may be to a man's being εὔζωνος (with “his 
+‘loins girded up’) for swift travel. 
+
+123 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Ελλησπόντου μᾶλλον Ù τοῦ Στρυμόνος καὶ τῆς 
+' Hióvos, ὅθεν δή μιν φασὶ ἐπιβῆναι ἐπὶ τὴν νέα. 
+
+191, Οἱ δὲ Ελληνες ἐπείτε οὐκ οἷοί τε ἐγίνοντο 
+ἐξελεῖν τὴν ᾿Άνδρον, τραπόμενοι ἐς Κάρυστον καὶ 
+δηιώσαντες αὐτῶν τὴν χώρην ἀπαλλάσσοντο ἐς 
+Σαλαμῖνα. πρῶτα μέν νυν τοῖσι θεοῖσι ἐξεῖλον 
+ἀκροθίνια ἄλλα τε καὶ τριήρεας τρεῖς Φοινίσσας, 
+τὴν μὲν ἐς ᾿Ισθμὸν ἀναθεῖναι, ἥ περ ἔτι καὶ ἐς 
+ἐμὲ ἣν, τὴν δὲ ἐπὶ Σούνιον, τὴν δὲ τῷ Αἴαντι 
+αὐτοῦ ἐς Σαλαμῖνα. μετὰ δὲ τοῦτο διεδάσαντο 
+τὴν ληίην καὶ τὰ ἀκροθίνια ἀπέπεμψαν ἐς 
+Δελφούς, ἐκ τῶν ἐγένετο ἀνδριὰς ἔχων ἐν τῇ 
+χειρὶ ἀκρωτήριον νεός, ἐὼν μέγαθος δυώδεκα 
+πηχέων": ἕστηκε δὲ οὗτος τῇ περ ὁ Μακεδὼν 
+᾿Αλέξανδρος ὁ χρύσεος. 
+
+1232 Πέμψαντες δὲ ἀκροθίνια οἱ Ελληνες ες 
+Δελφοὺς ἐπειρώτων. τὸν θεὸν κοινῇ εἰ λελάβηκε 
+πλήρεα καὶ ἀρεστὰ τὰ ἀκροθίνια. ὃ δὲ παρ᾽ 
+Ἑλλήνων μὲν τῶν ἄλλων ἔφησε ἔχειν, παρὰ 
+Αἰγινητέων δὲ οὔ, ἀλλὰ ἀπαίτεε αὐτοὺς τὰ 
+ἀριστήια τῆς ἐν Σαλαμῖνι ναυμαχίης. , Αἰγινῆται 
+δὲ πυθόμενοι ἀνέθεσαν ἀστέρας χρυσέους, οἳ ἐπὶ 
+ἱστοῦ χαλκέου ἑστᾶσι τρεῖς ἐπὶ τῆς γωνίης, 
+ἀγχοτάτω τοῦ Κροίσου κρητῆρος. 
+
+195. Μετὰ δὲ τὴν διαίρεσιν τῆς ληίης ἔπλεον 
+
+ἱ "Ελληνες ἐ τὸν. Ἰσθμὸν a Lor jia δώσον 
+
+wes ἐς m ριστή οντες 
+τῷ ἀξιωτάτῳ γενομένῳ Ἑλλήνων ἆ ἀνὰ τὸν πόλεμον 
+τοῦτον. ὡς δὲ ἀπικόμενοι οἱ στρατηγοὶ διέν Έμον 
+τὰς ψήφους ἐπὶ τοῦ Ἡοσειδέωνος τῷ βωμῷ, τὸν 
+πρῶτον καὶ τὸν δεύτερον κρίνοντες ἐκ πάντων, 
+ἐνθαῦτα πᾶς τις αὐτῶν ἑωυτῷ ἐτίθετο τὴν ψῆφον, 
+αὐτὸς ἕκαστος δοκέων ἄριστος γενέσθαι, δεύτερα 
+124 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 120-123 
+
+
+lies nearer to the Hellespont than the Strymon and 
+Eion, where they say that he took ship. 
+
+121. As for the Greeks, not being able to take 
+Andros they betook themselves to Carystus, and 
+aaving laid it waste they returned to Salamis. First 
+of all they set apart for thc gods, among other first- 
+fruits, three Phoenician triremes, one to be dedicated 
+at the Isthmus, where it was till my lifetime, the 
+second at Sunium, and the third for Aias at Salamis 
+where they were. After that, they divided the spoil 
+and sent the firstfruits of it to Delphi; whereof was 
+made a man's image twelve cubits high, holding in 
+his hand the figure-head of a ship; this stood in the 
+same place as the golden statue of Alexander the 
+Macedonian. 
+
+122. Having sent the firstfruits to Delphi the 
+Greeks inquired in common of the god, if the first- 
+fruits that he had received were of full measure and 
+if he was content therewith ; whereat he said that 
+this was so as touching what he received from all 
+other Greeks, but not from the Aeginetans ; of these 
+he demanded the victor's prize for the sea-fight of 
+Salamis. When the Aeginetans learnt that, they 
+dedicated three golden stars that are set on a bronze 
+mast, in the angle, nearest to Croesus' bowl. 
+
+123. After the division of the spoil, the Greeks 
+sailed to the Isthmus, there to award the prize of 
+excellence to him who had shown himself most 
+worthy of it in that war. But when the admirals 
+came and gave their divers votes at the altar of 
+Poseidon, to judge who was first and who second 
+among them, each of them there voted for himself, 
+supposing himself to have done the best service, but 
+the greater part of them united in giving the second 
+
+
+125 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δὲ οἱ πολλοὶ συνεξέπιπτον Θεμιστοκλέα κρίνοντες. 
+οἳ μὲν δὴ ἐμουνοῦντο, Θεμιστοκλέης δὲ δευτερείοισι 
+e ’ f 
+ὑπερεβάλλετο πολλόν. 
+124. Οὐ βουλομένων δὲ ταῦτα κρίνειν τῶν 
+΄ » 
+Ἑλλήνων φθόνῳ, ἀλλ ἀποπλεόντων ἑκάστων 
+^ 7 
+ἐς τὴν ἑωυτῶν ἀκρίτων, ὅμως Θεμιστοκλέης 
+ἐβώσθη τε καὶ ἐδοξώθη εἶναι ἀνὴρ πολλὸν 
+Ἑλλήνων σοφώτατος ἀνὰ πᾶσαν τὴν Ἑλλάδα. 
+ὅτι δὲ νικῶν οὐκ ἐτιμήθη πρὸς τῶν ἐν Σαλαμῖνι 
+ναυμαχησάντων, αὐτίκα μετὰ ταῦτα ἐς Λακε- 
+δαίμονα ἀπίκετο θέλων τιμηθῆναι" καί μιν Λακε- 
+/ ^ 
+δαιμόνιοι καλῶς μὲν ὑπεδέξαντο, μεγάλως δὲ 
+ἐτίμησαν. ἀριστήια μέν νυν ἔδοσαν: . . Eù- 
+ρυβιάδῃ ἐλαίης στέφανον, σοφίης δὲ καὶ δεξιό- 
+7 7 
+τητος Θεμιστοκλέι καὶ τούτῳ στέφανον ἐλαύης' 
+f / ^ 
+ἐδωρήσαντό τέ μιν ὄχω τῷ ἐν Σπάρτῃ καλλι- 
+στεύσαντι. αἰνέσαντες δὲ πολλά, προέπεμψαν 
+ἀπιόντα τριηκόσιοι Ἀπαρτιητέων λογάδες, οὗτοι 
+ot περ ἱππέες καλέονται, μεχρι οὔρων τῶν Τεγεη- 
+τικῶν. μοῦνον δὴ τοῦτον πάντων ἀνθρώπων τῶν 
+^ ^ / 
+ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν Σπαρτιῆται προέπεμψαν. 
+125. ‘Os δὲ ἐκ τῆς Λακεδαί ιπί ἐς τὰ 
+5. Ὡς δὲ ἐκ τῆς Λακεδαίμονος ἀπίκετο ἐς τὰς 
+? A 5 ^ ^ 
+Αθήνας, ἐνθαῦτα Τιμόδημος ᾿Αφιδναῖος τῶν 
+, ^ S ^ 7 5. y \ » 
+ἐχθρῶν μὲν τῶν Θεμιστοκλέος ἐών, ἄλλως δὲ οὐ 
+τῶν ἐπιφανέων ἀνδρῶν, φθόνῳ καταμαργέων ἐνεί- 
+IN £ \ » / 5 
+κεε τὸν (Θεμιστοκλέα, τὴν ἐς Λακεδαίμονα ἄπιξιν 
+προφέρων, ὡς διὰ τὰς ᾿Αθήνας ἔχοι τὰ γέρεα τὰ 
+λ / , b , 355€ ’ ἃ 
+παρὰ Λακεδαιμονίων, ἀλλ᾽ οὐ δι᾽ ἑωυτόν. ὃ δέ, 
+^ e L 
+ἐπείτε οὐκ ἐπαύετο λέγων ταῦτα ὁ Τιμόδημος, 
+5 ear y νι; / 
+εἶπε '“Οὕτω ἔχει rov. οὔτ᾽ ἂν ἐγὼ ἐὼν Βελβινίτης 
+! Stein supposes that something is omitted before Ἐὐρυ- 
+βιάδῃ, perhaps ἀνδραγαθίης. 
+
+
+126 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 123-125 
+
+
+place to Themistocles. So they each gained but one 
+vote, but Themistocles far outstripped them in votes 
+for the second place. 
+
+124. The Greeks were too jealous to adjudge the 
+prize, and sailed away each to his own place, leaving 
+the matter doubtful; nevertheless, Themistocles was 
+cried up, and all Hellas glorified him for the wisest 
+man by far of the Greeks. But because he had not 
+received from them that fought at Salamis the honour 
+due to his pre-eminence, immediately afterwards he 
+betook himself to Lacedaemon, that he might receive 
+honour there; and the Lacedaemonians made him 
+welcome and paid him high honour. They bestowed 
+on Eurybiades a crown of olive as the reward of 
+excellence, and another such crown on Themistocles 
+for his wisdom and cleverness; and they gave him 
+the finest chariot in Sparta; and with many words 
+of praise, they sent him on his homeward way with 
+the three hundred picked men of Sparta who are 
+called Knights to escort him as far as the borders 
+of Tegea. "Themistocles was the only man of whom 
+I have heard to whom the Spartans gave this escort. 
+
+125. But when Themistocles returned to Athens 
+from Lacedaemon, Timodemus of Aphidnae, who 
+was one of Themistocles enemies but a man in no- 
+wise notable, was crazed with envy and spoke bitterly 
+to Themistocles of his visit to Lacedaemon, saying 
+that the honours he had from the Lacedaemonians 
+were paid him for Athens’ sake and not for his own. 
+This he would continually be saying; till Themis- 
+tocles replied, * This is the truth of the matter— 
+had I been of Belbina! I had not been thus honoured 
+
+
+1 An islet S. of Sunium ; a typical instance of an unim. 
+portant place. 
+
+
+I27 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐτιμήθην οὕτω πρὸς Σπαρτιητέων, οὔτ᾽ ἂν σὺ, 
+ὤνθρωπε, ἐὼν ᾿Αθηναῖος.” ταῦτα μέν νυν ἐς τοσοῦτο 
+ἐγένετο. 
+
+126. ᾿Αρτάβαξος δὲ ὁ Φαρνάκεος ἀνὴρ ἐν Πέρ- 
+σησι λόγιμος καὶ πρόσθε ἐών, ἐκ δὲ τῶν IIXarau- 
+κῶν καὶ μᾶλλον ἔτι γενόμενος, ἔχων ἓξ μυριάδας 
+στρατοῦ τοῦ Μαρδόνιος ἐξελέξατο, προέπεμπε 
+βασιλέα μέχρι τοῦ πόρου. ὡς δὲ ὃ ὃ μὲν ἣν ἐν τῇ 
+Acin, ὃ Ô δὲ ὀπίσω πορευόμενος κατὰ τὴν Παλλή- 
+νην ἐγίνετο, ἅτε Μαρδονίου τε χειμερίξοντος περὶ 
+Θεσσαλίην. τε καὶ Μακεδονίην καὶ οὐδέν κω κατε- 
+πείγοντος ἥκειν ἐς τὸ ἄλλο στρατόπεδον, οὐκ ἐδι- 
+KALOU ἐντυχὼν ἀπεστεῶσι Ποτιδαιήτῃσι μὴ οὐκ 
+ἐξανδραποδίσασθαι σφέας. οἱ γὰρ Ποτιδαιῆται, 
+ὡς βασιλεὺς 7 παρεξεληλάκεε καὶ ὁ ναυτικὸς τοῖσι 
+l1épo gat οἰχώκεε φεύγων ἐκ Σαλαμῖνος, ἐκ τοῦ 
+φανεροῦ ἀπέστασαν ἀπὸ τῶν Βαρβάρων" ὣς δὲ 
+καὶ οἱ ἄλλοι οἱ τὴν Ἠαλλήνην € ἔχοντες. 
+
+127. ᾿Ενθαῦτα δὴ ᾿Αρτάβαξος ἐπολιόρκεε τὴν 
+Ποτίδαια». ὑποπτεύσας δὲ καὶ τοὺς ᾿Ολυνθίους 
+ἀπίστασθαι ἆ ἀπὸ βασιλέος, καὶ ταύτην ἐπολιόρκεε 
+εἶχον δὲ αὐτὴν Βοττιαῖοι ἐκ τοῦ Θερμαίου κόλπου 
+ἐξαναστάντες ὑπὸ Μακεδόνων. ἐπεὶ δὲ σφέας 
+εἷλε πολιορκέων, κατέσφαξε ἐξαγαγὼν ἐς λίμνην, 
+τὴν δὲ πόλιν παραδιδοῖ Κριτοβούλῳ Τορωναίῳ 
+ἐπιτροπεύειν καὶ τῷ Χαλκιδικῷ γένεϊ, καὶ οὕτω 
+Ολυνθον Χαλκιδέες ἔσχον. 
+
+128. ᾿Εξελὼν δὲ ταύτην ὁ Αρτάβαζος τῇ Iori- 
+Sain ἐντεταμένως προσεῖχε" προσέχοντι δέ οἱ 
+προθύμως συντίθεται προδοσίην Ἑιμόξεινος ὁ 0 τῶν 
+Σκιωναίων στρατηγός, ὄντινα μὲν τρόπον ἀρχήν, 
+ἔγωγε οὐκ ἔχω εἰπεῖν (οὐ γὰρ ὧν λέγεται), τέλος 
+128 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 125-128 
+
+
+by the Spartans; nor had you, sirrah, for all 
+you are of Athens." Such was the end of that 
+business. 
+
+126. Artabazus son of Pharnaces, who was already 
+a notable man among the Persians and grew to be 
+yet more so by the Plataean business, escorted the 
+king as far as the passage with sixty thousand men 
+of the army that Mardonius had chosen. Xerxes 
+being now in Asia, when Artabazus came near 
+Pallene in his return (for Mardonius was wintering 
+in Thessaly and Macedonia and making no haste to 
+come to the rest of his army), he thought it right 
+that he should enslave the people of Potidaea, whom 
+he found in revolt. For the king having marched 
+away past the town and the Persian fleet taken 
+flight from Salamis, Potidaea had openly revolted 
+from the foreigners; and so too had the rest of the 
+people of Pallene. 
+
+127. Thereupon Artabazus laid siege to Potidaea ; 
+and suspecting that Olynthus too was plotting revolt 
+from the king, he laid siege to it also, the town 
+being held by Bottiaeans who had been driven from 
+the Thermaic gulf by the Macedonians. Having 
+besieged and taken Olynthus, he brought these 
+men to a lake and there cut their throats, and 
+delivered their city over to the charge of Critobulus 
+of Έοτοη5 and the Chalcidian people; and thus the 
+Chaleidians gained possession of Olynthus. 
+
+128. Having taken Olynthus, Artabazus was 
+instant in dealing with Potidaea; and his zeal 
+was aided by Timoxenus the general of the Scio- 
+naeans, who agreed to betray the place to him; 
+I know not how the agreement was first made, 
+nothing being told thereof; but the end was as I 
+
+
+I29 
+VOL. IV. F 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μέντοι τοιάδε ἐγίνετο' ὅκως βυβλίον γράψειε ἢ 
+Τιμόξεινος ἐθέλων παρὰ ᾿Αρτάβαξον πέμψαι 7 
+᾿Αρτάβαξος παρὰ Ειμόξεινον, τοξεύματος παρὰ 
+τὰς γλυφίδας περιειλίξαντες καὶ πτερώσαντες τὸ 
+βυβλίον ἐτόξευον ἐς συγκείμενον χωρίον. ἐπάι- 
+στος δὲ ἐγένετο ὁ ιμόξεινος προδιδοὺς τὴν Iori- 
+δαιαν' τοξεύων γὰρ. Ò ᾿Αρτάβαξος ἐς τὸ συγκεί- 
+µενον, ἁμαρτὼν τοῦ χωρίου τούτου Barre ἀν- 
+δρὸς Ποτιδαιήτεω τὸν ὤμον, τὸν δὲ .Βληθέντα 
+περιέδραµε ὅμιλος, οἷα φιλέει γίνεσθαι ἐ ἐν πολέμῳ, 
+οἳ αὐτίκα τὸ τόξευμα λαβόντες ὡς ἔμαθον τὸ 
+βυβλίον, ἔφερον ἐπὶ τοὺς στρατηγούς" παρῆν δὲ 
+καὶ τῶν ἄλλων Παλληναίων συμμαχίη. τοῖσι δὲ 
+στρατηγοῖσι ἐπιλεξαμένοισι τὸ βυβλίον καὶ μα- 
+θοῦσι τὸν αἴτιον τῆς προδοσίης ἔδοξε μὴ κατα- 
+πλῆξαι Τιμόξεινον προδοσίῃ τῆς Σκιωναίων 
+πόλιος εἵνεκα, μὴ νομιξοίατο εἶναι Σκιωναῖοι ἐς 
+τὸν μετέπειτα χρόνον αἰεὶ προδόται. 
+
+129, Ὃ μὲν δὴ τοιούτῳ τρόπῳ ἐπάιστος ἐγε- 
+γόνεε' ᾿Αρταβάξῳ δὲ ἐπειδὴ πολιορκέοντι ἐγεγό- 
+νεσαν τρεῖς. μῆνες, γίνεται ἄμπωτις τῆς θαλάσσης 
+μεγάλη καὶ χρόνον ἐπὶ πολλόν. ἰδόντες δὲ οἱ 
+βάρβαροι τέναγος γενόμενον. παρήισαν ἐς τὴν 
+Παλλήνην. ὡς δὲ TAS δύο μὲν μοίρας διοδοιπο- 
+ρήκεσαν, ἔτι δὲ τρεῖς ὑπόλοιποι ἦσαν, τὰς διελ.- 
+θόντας χρῆν εἶναι ἔσω ἐν τῇ Παλλήνῃ, ἐπῆλθε 
+πλημμυρὶς τῆς θαλάσσης μεγάλη, ὅση οὐδαμά 
+κω, ὡς οἱ ἐπιχώριοι λέγουσι, πολλάκις γινομένη. 
+οἱ μὲν δὴ νέειν αὐτῶν οὐκ ἐπιστάμενοι διεφθεί- 
+
+
+» 
+
+
+1 Probably points on each side of the notch (where the 
+arrow lies on the string) to give the fingers better grip. 
+
+
+130 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 128-129 
+
+
+will now show. Whenever Timoxenus wrote a 
+letter for sending to Artabazus, or Artabazus to 
+Timoxenus, they would wrap it round the shaft of 
+an arrow at the notches! and put feathers to the 
+letter, and shoot it to a place whereon they had 
+agreed. But Timoxenus' plot to betray Potidaea 
+was discovered ; for Artabazus in shooting an arrow 
+to the place agreed upon, missed it and hit the 
+shoulder of a man of Potidaea; and a throng 
+gathering quickly round the man when he was 
+struck (which is a thing that ever happens in war), 
+they straightway took the arrow and found the letter 
+and carried it to their generals, the rest of their 
+alies of Pallene being also there present. The 
+generals read the letter and perceived who was 
+the traitor, but they resolved for Scione's sake that 
+they would not smite Timoxenus to the earth with 
+a charge of treason, lest so the people of Scione 
+should ever after be called traitors. 
+
+129. Thus was Timoxenus' treachery brought to 
+light. But when Artabazus had besieged Potidaea 
+for three months, there was a great ebb-tide in the 
+sea, lasting for along while, and when the foreigners 
+saw that the sea was turned to a marsh they made 
+to pass over it into Pallene. But when they had 
+made their way over two fifths of it and three yet 
+remained to cross ere they could be in Pallene, 
+there came a great flood-tide, higher, as the people 
+of the place say, than any one of the many that had 
+been before ; and some of them that knew not how 
+
+
+“The parchment was rolled round the butt end of the 
+arrow and then feathers put over it to hide it" (How and 
+Wella). 
+
+
+I31 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+\ δὲ , / e ὃ ^ 
+ροντο, τοὺς δὲ ἐπισταμένους οἱ Ποτιδαιῆται 
+, ΄ , 
+ἐπιπλώσαντες πλοίοισι ἀπώλεσαν. αἴτιον δὲ 
+^ ^ ’ - 
+λέγουσι Ποτιδαιῆται τῆς τε ῥηχύης καὶ τῆς 
+πλημμυρίδος καὶ τοῦ Περσικοῦ πάθεος γενέσθαι 
+e ^ / \ 
+τόδε, ὅτι τοῦ Ποσειδέωνος ἐς τὸν νηὸν καὶ τὸ 
+X ^ ^ 
+ἄγαλμα τὸ ἐν τῷ προαστείῳ ἠσέβησαν οὗτοι τῶν 
+’ [r4 A 4 e N ^ / 
+Περσέων ot περ καὶ διεφθάρησαν ὑπὸ τῆς θαλάσ- 
+^ / / 3 
+σης: αἴτιον δὲ τοῦτο λέγοντες εὖ λέγειν ἔμοιγε 
+δοκέουσι. τοὺς δὲ περιγενομένους ἀπῆγε `A prta- 
+/ 
+βαξος ἐς Θεσσαλίην παρὰ Μαρδόνιον. οὗτοι 
+/ / e / 
+μὲν οἱ προπέµψαντες βασιλέα οὕτω ἔπρηξαν. 
+[e 
+130. Ὁ δὲ ναυτικὸς ὁ Ξέρξεω περιγενόμενος 
+ε ’ ^) / / 3 A N 
+ὡς προσέμιξε TH Acin φεύγων ἐκ Σαλαμῖνος καὶ 
+N 
+βασιλέα τε καὶ τὴν στρατιὴν ἐκ Χερσονήσου 
+, 3 y 1 / > f 
+διεπόρθµευσε ἐς “ABvoov, ἐχειμέριξε ἐν Κύμῃ. 
+ἔαρος δὲ ἐπιλάμψαντος πρώιος συνελέγετο ἐς 
+3 ^ A / ^ 
+Σάμον: a) δὲ τῶν νεῶν καὶ ἐχειμέρισαν αὐτοῦ" 
+Περσέων δὲ καὶ Μήδων οἱ πλεῦνες ἐπεβάτευον. 
+N , , ^ / € 
+στρατηγοὶ δέ σφι ἐπῆλθον Μαρδόντης τε ὁ Ba- 
+γαίου καὶ Αρταύντης ὁ ᾿Αρταχαίεω' συνῆρχε δὲ 
+/ ^ HA 
+τούτοισι καὶ ἀδελφιδέος αὐτοῦ ᾿Αρταὔντεω προσ- 
+’ , / τ N / 
+ελομένου ᾿Ιθαμίτρης. ate δὲ μεγάλως TAN- 
+γέντες, οὐ πρλήισαν ἀνωτέρω τὸ πρὸς ἑσπέρης, 
+σον 3 4 , / , > 39 ^ / / 
+οὐδ᾽ ἐπηνάγκαξε οὐδείς, ἀλλ᾽ ἐν τῇ Σάμῳ κατή- 
+μενοι ἐφύλασσον τὴν ᾿Ιωνίην μὴ ἀποστῆ, νέας 
+3 ^ / 
+ἔχοντες σὺν τῇσι ᾿Ιάσι τριηκοσίας. οὐ μὲν οὐδὲ 
+/ 
+προσεδέκοντο τοὺς "Ελληνας ἐλεύσεσθαι ἐς τὴν 
+, ’ 3 3 9 " M ε ^ , 
+lovigv ἀλλ. ἀποχρήσειν σφι την ἑωυτῶν Φυλάσ- 
+A / 
+σειν, σταθμεύμενοι ὅτι σφέας οὐκ ἐπεδίωξαν 
+/ » N ^ » > y , 7 
+Φεύγοντας ἐκ Σαλαμῖνος ἀλλ. ἄσμενοι ἁπαλλάσ- 
+σοντο. κατὰ μέν νυν τὴν θάλασσαν ἑσσωμένοι 
+9 ^ ^ A N / ^ 
+ἦσαν τῷ θυμῶ, πεζῇ δὲ ἐδόκεον πολλῷ κρατήσειν 
+132 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 129-130 
+
+
+to swim were drowned, and thosc that knew were 
+slain by the Potidaeans, who came among them in 
+boats. The Potidaeans say that the cause of the 
+high sea and flood and the Persian disaster lay here- 
+in, that those same Persians who now perished in 
+the sea had profaned the temple and the image of 
+Poseidon that was in the suburb of the city; and 
+I think that in saying that this was the cause they 
+say rightly. They that escaped alive were led away 
+by Artabazus to Mardonius in Thessaly. Thus fared 
+these men, who had been the king's escort. 
+
+130. All that was left of Xerxes' fleet, having in 
+its flight from Salamis touched the coast of Asia 
+and ferried the king and his army over from the 
+Chersonese to Abydos, wintered at Cyme. Then 
+early in the first dawn of spring they mustered 
+at Samos, where some of the ships had wintered ; 
+the most of their fighting men were Persians and 
+Medes. Mardontes son of Bagaeus and Artayntes 
+son of Artachaees came to be their admirals, and 
+Artayntes chose also his own nephew Ithamitres to 
+have a share in the command. But by reason of 
+the heavy blow dealt them they went no further out 
+to sea westwards, nor was any man instant that they 
+should so do, but they lay off Samos keeping watch 
+against a revolt in Ionia, the whole number of their 
+ships, Ionian and other, being three hundred; nor 
+in truth did they expect that the Greeks would 
+come to Ionia, but rather that they would be content 
+to guard their own country; thus they inferred, 
+because the Greeks had not pursued them when 
+they fled from Salamis, but had been glad to be 
+quit of them. In regard to the sea, the Persians 
+were at heart beaten men, but they supposed that 
+
+
+133 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τὸν Μαρδόνιον. ἐόντες δὲ ἐν Σάμῳ ἅμα μὲν ἐβου- 
+λεύοντο εἴ τι δυναίατο κακὸν τοὺς πολεμίους 
+ποιέειν, ἅμα δὲ καὶ ὠτακούστεον ὅκῃ πεσέεται τὰ 
+Μαρδονίου πρήγματα. 
+
+191. Τοὺς δὲ | Ἓλληνας τό τε ἔαρ γινόμενον 
+ἤγειρε καὶ Μαρδόνιος ἐ ἐν Θεσσαλίῃ ἑών. ὁ μὲν δὴ 
+πεζὸς οὔκω συνελέγετο, ὁ δὲ ναυτικὸς ἀπίκετο ἐς 
+Αἴγιναν, νέες ἀριθ μὸν δέκα καὶ ἑκατόν. στρατη- 
+γὸς δὲ καὶ ναύαρχος ἦν Δευτυχίδης ὁ Μενάρεος 
+τοῦ Ἡγησίλεω τοῦ Ἱπποκρατίδεω τοῦ Λευτυχί- 
+δεω τοῦ ᾿Αναξίλεω τοῦ ᾿Αρχιδήμου τοῦ ᾿Αναξαν- 
+δρίδεω τοῦ Θεοπόμπου τοῦ Νικάνδρου τοῦ Χαρί- 
+λεω τοῦ [Ὀὐνόμου τοῦ Πολυδέκτεω τοῦ Πρυτάνιος 
+τοῦ Εὐρυφῶντος τοῦ Προκλέος τοῦ ᾿Αριστοδήµου 
+τοῦ ᾿Αριστομάχου τοῦ Κλεοδαίου τοῦ Ὕλλου τοῦ 
+Ἡρακλέος, ἐὼν τῆς ἑτέρης οἰκίης τῶν βασιλέων. 
+οὗτοι πάντες, πλὴν τῶν ἑπτὰ τῶν μετὰ Λευτυ- 
+χίδεα πρώτων καταλεχθέντων, οἱ ἄλλοι βασιλέες 
+ἐγένοντο Σπάρτης. ᾿Αθηναίων δὲ ἐστρατήγεε 
+Ξάνθιππος ὁ ᾿Αρίφρονος. 
+
+132. Ὡς δὲ παρεγένοντο ἐς τὴν Αἴγιναν πᾶσαι 
+αἱ νέες, ἀπίκοντο Ιώνων ἄγγελοι ἐς τὸ στρατό- 
+πεδον τῶν Ἑλλήνων, οἳ καὶ ἐς Σπάρτην ὀλίγῳ 
+πρότερον τούτων ἀπικόμενοι ἐδέοντο Aaxedarpo- 
+νίων ἐλευθεροῦν τὴν Ἰωνίην' τῶν καὶ "Ηρόδοτος ὁ 0 
+Βασιληίδεω Tw of στασιῶται σφίσι γενόμενοι 
+ἐπεβούλευον θάνατον Στράττι τῷ Χίου τυράννῳ, 
+ἐόντες ἀρχὴν ἑπτά' ἐπιβουλεύοντες δὲ ὡς φανεροὶ 
+ἐγένοντο, ἐξενείκαντος τὴν ἐπιχείρησιν ἑνὸς τῶν 
+
+! The first royal house was the line of Agis, from whom 
+
+
+Leonidas was descended (vii. 204). The second was the line 
+of Euryphon. In the present list *'the first king among the 
+
+
+134 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 130-132 
+
+
+on land Mardonius would easily prevail. So they 
+were at Samos, and there planned to do what harm 
+they could to their enemies, and to listen the while 
+for tidings of how it went with Mardonius. 
+
+131. But as for the Greeks, the coming of spring 
+and Mardonius' being in Thessaly moved them to 
+action. They had not yet begun the mustering of 
+their army, but their fleet, an hundred and ten 
+ships, came to Aegina; and their general and 
+admiral was Leutychides sou of Menares, tracing 
+his lineage from son to father through Hegesilaus, 
+Hippocratides, Leutychides, Anaxilaus, Archidemus, 
+Anaxandrides, Theopompus, Nicandrus, Charilaus, 
+Eunomus, Polydectes, Prytanis, Euryphon, Procies, 
+Aristodemus, Aristomachus, Cleodaeus, to Hyllus 
+who was the son of Heracles; he was of the second 
+royal house.! All the aforesaid had been kings of 
+Sparta, save the seven named first after Leutychides. 
+The general of the Athenians was Xanthippus son 
+of Ariphron. 
+
+132. When all the ships were arrived at Aegina, 
+there came to the Greek quarters messengers from 
+the Ionians, the same who a little while before 
+that had gone to Sparta and entreated the Lace- 
+daemonians to free lonia; of whom one was 
+Herodotus the son of Basileides.? These, who at 
+first were seven, made a faction and conspired to 
+slay Strattis, the despot of Chios; but when their 
+conspiracy became known, one of the accomplices 
+
+
+ancestors of Leutychides is Theopompus, the seven more 
+immediate ancestors of L. belonging to a younger branch, 
+which gained the throne by the deposition of Demaratus " 
+(How and Wells). 
+
+5 Otherwise unknown. 
+
+
+135 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μετεχόντων, οὕτω δὴ οἱ λοιποὶ ἓξ ἐόντες ὑπεξε- 
+σχον ἐκ τῆς Χίου καὶ ἐς Σπάρτην τε ἀπίκοντο καὶ 
+δὴ καὶ τότε ἐς τὴν Αἴγιναν, τῶν Ἑλλήνων δεόμενοι 
+καταπλῶσαι ἐς τὴν ᾿Ιωνίην' οἳ προήγαγον αὐτοὺς 
+μόγις μέχρι Δήλου. τὸ ,Yàp προσωτέρω πᾶν δει- 
+νὸν ἣν τοῖσι ΄Ελλησι οὔτε τῶν χώρων ἐοῦσι ἐμ- 
+πείροισι, στρατιῆς τε πάντα πλέα ἐδόκεε εἶναι, 
+τὴν δὲ Σάμον ἐπιστέατο δόξῃ καὶ "Ἡρακλέας 
+στήλας i ἴσον ἀπέχειν. συνέπιπτε δὲ τοιοῦτο ὥστε 
+τοὺς μὲν βαρβάρους τὸ πρὸς ἑσπέρης ἀνωτέρω 
+Σάμου μὴ τολμᾶν καταπλῶσαι καταρρωδηκότας, 
+τοὺς δὲ Ἓλληνας, χρηιζόντων Χίων, TO πρὸς τὴν 
+ἠῶ κατωτέρω Δήλου: οὕτω δέος τὸ μέσον ἐφύ- 
+λασσε σφέων. 
+
+133. Οἱ μὲν δὴ "Ελληνες ἔπλεον ἐς τὴν Δῆλον, 
+Μαρδόνιος δὲ περὶ τὴν Θεσσαλίην ἐχείμαξε. ἐν- 
+bebe τεν δὲ ὁ ὁρμώμενος ἔπεμπε. κατὰ τὰ χρηστήρια 
+ἄνδρα Εὐρωπέα γένος, τῷ οὔνομα ἣν Μῦς, ἐντει- 
+λάμενος πανταχῇ μιν χρησόμενον ἐλθεῖν, τῶν οἷά 
+τε ἣν σφι ἀποπειρήσασθαι. ὅ τι μὲν βουλόμενος 
+ἐκμαθεῖν πρὸς τῶν χρηστηρίων ταῦτα ἐνετέλλετο, 
+οὐκ ἔχω φράσαι οὐ γὰρ ὧν λέγεται" δοκέω δ᾽ 
+» 
+ἔγωγε περὶ τῶν παρεόντων πρηγμάτων καὶ οὐκ 
+
+ἄλλων πέρι πέμψαι. 
+
+194. Οὗτος ὁ Μῦς ἔς τε Λεβάδειαν φαίνεται 
+ἀπικόμενος καὶ μισθῷ πείσας τῶν ἐπιχωρίων 
+ἄνδρα καταβῆναι παρὰ Τροφώνιον, καὶ ἐς Ἄβας 
+τὰς Φωκέων ἀπικόμενος ἐπὶ τὸ χρηστήριον" καὶ 
+δὴ καὶ ἐς Θήβας πρῶτα ὡς ἀπίκετο, τοῦτο μὲν τῷ 
+᾿Ισμηνίῳ ᾿Απόλλωνι ἐχρήσατο" ἔστι δὲ κατά περ 
+
+
+1 ** As far off as the Straits of Gibraltar”—a figure of 
+distance. 
+
+
+136 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 132-134 
+
+
+having revealed their enterprise, the six that 
+remained got them privily out of Chios, whence 
+they went to Sparta and now to Aegina, entreating 
+the Greeks to sail to Ionia. The Greeks brought 
+them as far as Delos, and that not readily ; for they 
+feared all that lay beyond, having no knowledge 
+of those parts, and thinking that armed men were 
+everywhere; and they supposed that Samos was no 
+nearer to them than the Pillars of Heracles.! So it 
+fell out that the foreigners were too disheartened to 
+dare to sail farther west than Samos, while at the 
+same time the Greeks dared go at the Chians' request 
+no farther east than Delos; thus fear kept the 
+middle space between them. 
+
+133. The Greeks, then, sailed to Delos, and 
+Mardonius wintered in Thessaly. Having here his 
+headquarters he sent thence a man of Europus 
+called Mys to visit the places of divination, 
+charging him to inquire of all the oracles whereof 
+he could make trial. What it was that he desired 
+to learn from the oracles when he gave this charge, 
+l cannot say, for none tells of it; but I suppose that 
+he sent to inquire concerning his present business, 
+and that alone. 
+
+154. This man Mys is known to have gone to 
+Lebadea and to have bribed a man of the country 
+to go down into the cave of Trophonius,? and to 
+have gone to the place of divination at Abae in 
+Phocis; to Thebes too he first went, where he 
+inquired of Ismenian Apollo (sacrifice is there the 
+
+
+2 See How and Wells ad Joc. for a full description of the 
+method of consulting this subterranean deity: also on 
+Amphiaraus and ‘‘Ptoan” Apollo. AJ these shrines are in 
+Boeotia, the home of early Greek superstitions. 
+
+
+137 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐν Ολυμπίῃ i ἱροῖσι αὐτόθι χρηστηριάζεσθαι; τοῦ- 
+το δὲ ξεῖνον τινὰ καὶ οὐ Θηβαῖον χρήμασι πείσας 
+κατεκοίµησε ἐς ᾽Αμϕιάρεω. Θηβαίων δὲ οὐδενὶ 
+ἔξεστι μαντεύεσθαι αὐτόθι διὰ τόδε" ἐκέλευσε 
+σφέας ὁ ᾽Αμϕιάρεως διὰ χρηστηρίων ποιεύμενος 
+ὁκότερα βούλονται ἑλέσθαι τούτων, ἑωντῷ ἢ ἅτε 
+μάντι χρᾶσθαι ἢ ) ἅτε συμμάχῳ, τοῦ ἑτέρου ἀπεχο- 
+μένους οἳ δὲ σύμμαχόν μιν εἵλοντο εἶναι. διὰ 
+τοῦτο μὲν οὐκ ἔξεστι Θηβαίων οὐδενὶ αὐτόθι 
+ἐγκατακοιμηθῆναι. 
+
+135. Τότε δὲ θῶμά μοι μέγιστον γενέσθαι 
+λέγεται ὑπὸ Θηβαίων: ἐλθεῖν ἄρα τὸν Βὐρωπέα 
+Μῦν, περιστρωφώμενον πάντα τὰ χρηστήρια, καὶ 
+ἐς τοῦ Πτώου ᾿Απόλλωνος τὸ τέμενος. τοῦτο δὲ 
+τὸ ἱρὸν καλέεται -μὲν llrgow, ἔστι δὲ Θηβαίων, 
+κεῖται δὲ ὑπὲρ τῆς Κωπαΐδος λίμνης πρὸς ὄρεϊ 
+ἀγχοτάτω ᾿Ακραιφίης πόλιος. ἐς τοῦτο το ἱρὸν 
+ἐπείτε παρελθεῖν τὸν καλεόμενον τοῦτον Μῦν, 
+ἕπεσθαι δέ οἱ τῶν ἀστῶν αἱρετοὺς ἄνδρας τρεῖς 
+ἀπὸ τοῦ κοινοῦ ὡς ἀπογραψομένους τὰ θεσπιέειν 
+ἔμελλε, καὶ πρόκατε τὸν πρόμαντιν βαρβάρῳ 
+γλώσσῃ χρᾶν. καὶ τοὺς μὲν ἑπομένους τῶν On- 
+βαίων ἐν θώματι ἔχεσθαι ἀκούοντας βαρβάρου 
+γλώσσης ἀντὶ Ἑλλάδος, οὐδὲ ἔχειν 6 τι χρήσων- 
+ται τῷ παρεῦντι πρήγματι τὸν δὲ Εὐρωπέα Μῦν 
+ἐξαρπάσαντα, παρ αὐτῶν τὴν ἐφέροντο δέλτον, 
+τὰ λεγόμενα ὑπὸ τοῦ προφήτεω γράφειν ἐς αὐτήν, 
+φάναι δὲ Kapin μιν Ὑλώσσῃ χρᾶν, συγγραψά- 
+μενον δὲ οἴχεσθαι ἀπιόντα ἐς Θεσσαλίην. 
+
+156. Μαρδόνιος δὲ ἐπιλεξάμενος ὅ ὅ τι δὴ λέγοντα 
+ἦν τὰ χρηστήρια μετὰ ταῦτα ἔπεμψε ἄγγελον ἐς 
+
+
+138 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 134-136 
+
+
+way of divination, even as at Olympia), and more- 
+over bribed one that was no Theban but a stranger 
+to lie down to sleep in the shrine of Amphiaraus. 
+No Theban may seek 4 prophecy there; for 
+Amphiaraus bade them by an oracle to choose 
+which of the two they would and forgo the other, 
+and take him either fortheir prophet or fortheir ally ; 
+and they chose that he should be theirally ; wherefore 
+no Theban may lay him down to sleep in that place. 
+
+135. But at this time there happened, as the 
+Thebans say, a thing at which I marvel greatly. It 
+would seem that this man Mys of Europus came in 
+his wanderings among the places of divination to 
+the precinct of Ptoan Apollo. This temple is called 
+Ptoum,! and belongs to the Thebans; it lies by a 
+hill, above the lake Copais, very near to the town 
+Acraephia. When the man called Mys entered into 
+this temple, three men of the town following him 
+that were chosen on the state's behalf to write 
+down the oracles that should be given, straightway 
+the diviner prophesied in a foreign tongue. The 
+Thebans that followed him stood astonied to hear a 
+strange language instead of Greek, and knew not 
+what this present matter might be; but Mys of 
+Europus snatched from them the tablet that they 
+carried and wrote on it that which was spoken by 
+the prophet, saying that the words of the oracle 
+were Carian; and having written all down he went 
+away back to Thessaly. 
+
+136. Mardonius read whatever was said in the 
+oracles ; and presently he sent a messenger to Athens, 
+
+1 Called after Ptous, son of Athamas, according to 
+Apollodorus. The story of Athamas, and his plot with Ino 
+
+
+their stepmother against his children’s lives, was localised in 
+Boeotia as well as Achaea, cp. vii. 197. 
+
+
+139 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+᾿Αθήνας ᾿Αλέξανδρον τὸν ᾽Αμύντεω ἄνδρα Μακε- 
+δόνα, ἅμα μὲν ὅτι οἱ προσκηδέες οἱ Πέρσαι ἦσαν' 
+᾿Αλεξάνδρου γὰρ ἀδελφεὴν Γυγαίην, Αμύντεω δὲ 
+θυγατέρα, Πουβάρης ἀνὴρ Πέρσης ἔσχε, ἐκ τῆς 
+οἱ ἐγεγόνεε ᾿Αμύντης ὁ ἐν τῇ ᾿Ασίῃ, ἔχων τὸ 
+οὔνομα τοῦ μητροπάτορος, τῷ δὴ ἐκ βασιλέος τῆς 
+Φρυγίης ἐδόθη ᾿Αλάβανδα πόλις μεγάλη νέμεσθαι" 
+ἅμα δὲ ὁ Μαρδόνιος πυθόμενος ὅτι πρὀξεινός τε 
+εἴη καὶ εὐεργέτης. ὁ ᾿Αλέξανδρος ἔπεμπε. τοὺς 
+γὰρ ᾿ Αθηναίους οὕτω ἐδόκεε μάλιστα προσκτή- 
+σεσθαι, λεών τε πολλὸν ἄρα ἀκούων εἶναι καὶ 
+ἄλκιμον, τά τε κατὰ τὴν θάλασσαν συντυχόντα 
+σφι παθήματα κατεργασαμένους μάλιστα ᾿Αθη- 
+ναίους ἐπίστατο. τούτων δὲ προσγενομένων κατ; 
+ήλπιζε εὐπετέως τῆς θαλάσσης κρατήσειν, τά 
+περ ἂν καὶ ἣν, πεζῇ τε ἐδόκεε πολλῷ εἶναι κρέσ- 
+σων, οὕτω τε ἐλογίζετο κατύπερθέ οἱ τὰ πρήγματα 
+ἔσεσθαι τῶν ᾿Ελληνικῶν. τάχα Ò ἂν καὶ τὰ 
+χρηστήρια ταῦτά οἱ προλέγοι, συμβουλεύοντα 
+σύμμαχον τὸν ᾿Αθηναῖον ποιέεσθαι: τοῖσι δὴ 
+πειθόμενος ἔπεμπε. 
+
+197. Τοῦ δὲ ᾿Αλεξάνδρου τούτου ἕβδομος γενέ- 
+τωρ Περδίκκης ἐ ἐστὶ ὁ κτησάμενος τῶν Μακεδόνων 
+τὴν τυραννίδα τρόπῳ τοιῷδε. da ΄Άργεος ἔφυγον 
+ἐς ᾿Ἰλλυριοὺς τῶν Τημένου ἀπογόνων τρεῖς ἆδελ.- 
+heoi, l'avávgs τε καὶ ᾿Αέροπος καὶ Περδίκκης, ἐκ 
+δὲ ᾿Ιλλυριῶν ὑπερβαλόντες ἐς τὴν ἄνω Μακεδο- 
+νίην ἀπίκοντο ἐς Λεβαίην πόλιν. ἐνθαῦτα δὲ 
+
+
+1 Alabanda was not in Phrygia but in Caria (cp. vii. 105); 
+Stein prefers to read Alabastra, a town which Herodotus, 
+according to Stephanus of Dy zantium, places in Phrygia. 
+
+
+140 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 136-137 
+
+
+Alexander, a Macedonian, son of Amyntas; him he 
+sent, partly because the Persians were akin to him ; 
+for Bubares, a Persian, had taken to wife Gygaea 
+Alexander's sister and Amyntas’ daughter, who had 
+borne to him that Amyntas of Asia who was called 
+by the name of his mother’s father, and to whom 
+the king gave Alabanda! a great city in Phrygia 
+for his dw elling ; and partly he sent him because he 
+learnt that Alexander was a protector and benefactor 
+to the Athenians. It was thus that he supposed he 
+could best gain the Athenians for his allies, of whom 
+he heard that they were a numerous and valiant 
+people, and knew that they had been the chief 
+authors of the calamities which had befallen the 
+Persians at sea. If he gained their friendship he 
+looked to be easily master of the seas, as truly he 
+would have been ; and on land he supposed himself 
+to be by much the stronger; so he reckoned that 
+thus he would have the upper hand of the Greeks. 
+Peradventure this was the prediction of the oracles, 
+counselling him to make the Athenian his ally, and 
+it was in obedience to this that he sent his messenger. 
+
+137. This Alexander was seventh in descent from 
+Perdiccas, who got for himself the despotism of 
+Macedonia in the way that I will show. Three 
+brothers of the lineage of Temenus came as banished 
+men from Argos? to Illyria, Gauanes and Aeropus 
+and Perdiccas; and from Illyria they crossed over 
+into the highlands of Macedonia till they came to 
+the town Lebaea. There they served for wages as 
+
+
+2 The story of an Argive origin of the Macedonian dynasty 
+appears to be mythical. It rests probably on the similarity 
+of the name Argeadae, the tribe to which the dynasty 
+belonged. 
+
+
+141 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐθήτευον ἐπὶ μισθῷ παρὰ τῷ βασιλέι, ὃ μὲν 
+ἵππους νέμων, ὃ δὲ βοῦς, ὁ δὲ νεώτατος αὐτῶν 
+Περδίκκης τὰ λεπτὰ τῶν προβάτων. κἡ δὲ γυνὴ 
+τοῦ βασιλέος αὐτὴ τὰ σιτία σφι ἔπεσσε' ἧσαν 
+γὰρ τὸ πάλαι καὶ αἱ τυραννίδες τῶν ἀνθρώπων 
+ἀσθενέες χρήμασι, οὐ μοῦνον. ὁ δῆμος" ὅκως δὲ 
+OTT TQ], ὁ ἄρτος τοῦ παιδὸς τοῦ θητὸς Περδίκκεω 
+διπλήσιος. ἐγίνετο αὐτὸς ἑωυτοῦ. ἐπεὶ δὲ αἰεὶ 
+τὠυτὸ τοῦτο ἐγίνετο, εἶπε πρὸς τὸν ἄνδρα τὸν 
+ἑωυτῆς" τὸν δὲ ἀκούσαντα ἐσῆλθε αὐτίκα ὡς εἴη 
+τέρας καὶ φέροι μέγα τι. καλέσας δὲ τοὺς θῆτας 
+προηγόρευέ σφι ἀπαλλάσσεσθαι ἐκ γῆς τῆς ἑωυ- 
+τοῦ. οἳ δὲ τὸν μισθὸν ἔφασαν δίκαιοι εἶναι ἆπο- 
+λαβόντες οὕτω ἐξιέναι. ἐνθαῦτα ὁ βασιλεὺς τοῦ 
+μισθοῦ πέρι ἀκούσας, ἦν γὰρ κατὰ τὴν καπνο- 
+δόκην ἐς τὸν οἶκον ἐσέχων. ὁ ἥλιος, εἶπε θεοβλαβὴς 
+γενόμενος ** Μισθὸν δὲ t ὑμῖν ἐγὼ ον ἄξιον τόνδε 
+ἀποδίδωμι," δέξας τὸν ἥλιον. ὁ μὲν. δὴ 1 αυάνης 
+τε καὶ ὁ ᾿Αέροπος oi πρεσβύτεροι ἕστασαν ἐκ- 
+πεπληγμένοι, ὡς ἤκουσαν ταῦτα" ὁ δὲ παῖς, ἐτύγ- 
+χανε γὰρ ἔχων μάχαιραν, εἴπας τάδε “ Δεκόμεθα 
+ὦ .Βασιλεῦ τὰ διδοῖς, περιγράφει τῇ μαχαίρῃ ἐς 
+τὸ ἔδαφος τοῦ οἴκου τὸν ἥλιον, περιγράψας ὃ έ, ἐς 
+τὸν κόλπον τρὶς ἀρυσάμενος τοῦ ἡλίου, ἁπαλλάσ- 
+σετο αὐτός τε καὶ οἱ μετ᾽ ἐκείνου. 
+
+198. Οἳ μὲν δὴ ἆ ἀπήισαν, τῷ δὲ βασιλέι σημαί. 
+νει τις τῶν παρέδρων οἷόν τι χρῆμα ποιήσειε ὁ 
+παῖς καὶ ὡς σὺν νόῳ κείνων ὁ ὁ νεώτατος λάβοι τὰ 
+διδόμενα. ὃ δὲ ταῦτα ἀκούσας καὶ ὀξυνθεὶς πέμ- 
+πει ἐπ᾽ αὐτοὺς ἱππέας ἀπολέοντας. ποταμὸς δὲ 
+ἐστὶ ἐν τῇ χώρῃ ταύτῃ, τῷ θύουσι οἱ τούτων τῶν 
+
+
+142 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 137-1358 
+
+
+thralls in the king's household, one tending horses 
+and another oxen, and Perdiccas, who was the 
+youngest, the lesser flocks. Now the king’s wife 
+cooked their food for them; for in old times the 
+ruling houses among men, and not the commonalty 
+alone, were lacking in wealth; and whenever she 
+baked bread, the loaf of the thrall Perdiccas grew 
+double in bigness. Seeing that this ever happened, 
+she told her husband; and it seemed to him when 
+he heard it that this was a portent, signifying some 
+great matter. So he sent for his thralls and bade 
+them depart out of his territory. They said it was 
+but just that they should have their wages ere they 
+departed ; whereupon the king, when they spoke 
+of wages, was moved to foolishness, and said, ** That 
+is the wage you merit, and it is that I give you,” 
+pointing to the sunlight that shone down the smoke- 
+vent into the house. Gauanes and Aeropus, who 
+were the elder, stood astonied when they heard 
+that; but the boy said, “ We accept what you give, 
+O king,” and with that he took a knife that he had 
+upon him and drew a line with it on the floor of the 
+house round the sunlight!; which done, he thrice 
+gathered up the sunlight into the fold of his garment, 
+and went his way with his companions. 
+
+138. So they departed ; but one of them that sat 
+by declared to the king what this was that the boy 
+had done, and how it was of set purpose that the 
+youngest of them had accepted the gift offered; 
+which when the king heard, he was angered, and 
+sent riders after them to slay them. But there is 
+in that land a river, whereto the descendants from 
+
+1 The action is said to symbolise claiming possession of 
+
+
+house and land, and also to call the sun to witness the claim. 
+Ancient Germany, apparently, had a similar custom. 
+
+
+143 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἀνδρῶν am “Apyeos ἀπόγονοι σωτῆρι' οὗτος, 
+, / f e ’ 4 ο 3 να 
+ἐπείτε διέβησαν οἱ Τημενίδαι, μέγας οὕτω ἐρρύη 
+ὥστε τοὺς ἱππέας μὴ οἵους τε γενέσθαι διαβῆναι. 
+δὲ ἀπικόμενοι ἐς ἄλλην γῆν τῆς Μακεδονίης 
+
+οἴκησαν πέλας τῶν κήπων τῶν λεγομένων εἶναι 
+Μίδεω τοῦ Γορδίεω, ἐν τοῖσι φύεται αὐτόματα 
+εν «a e » e / /, 9 ^ 
+ῥόδα, ἓν ἕκαστον ἔχον ἑξήκοντα φύλλα, οὐρῇ τε 
+ὑπερφέροντα τῶν ἄλλων. ἐν τούτοισι καὶ ὁ Σιλη- 
+νὸς τοῖσι κήποισι ἥλω, ὡς λέγεται ὑπὸ Μακεδό- 
+νων. ὑπὲρ δὲ τῶν κήπων ὄρος κέεται Βέρμιον 
+οὔνομα, ἄβατον ὑπὸ χειμῶνος. ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ ὁρ- 
+μώμενοι, ὡς ταύτην ἔσχον, κατεστρέφοντο καὶ τὴν 
+ἄλλην Μακεδονίην. 
+
+139. ᾽Απὸ τούτου δὴ τοῦ Περδίκκεω᾽ Ἀλέξανδρος 
+Ag 3 ’ 3 ΄ ^ > 4 / 
+ὧδε ἐγένετο. ᾿Αμύντεω παῖς ἦν Αλέξανδρος, 
+᾽Αμύντης δὲ ᾿Αλκέτεω, Ἀλκέτεω δὲ πατὴρ 7v 
+᾿Αέροπος, τοῦ δὲ Φίλιππος, Φιλίππου δὲ ᾿Αργαῖος, 
+τοῦ δὲ Περδίκκης ὁ κτησάμενος τὴν ἀρχήν. 
+
+140. 'IEvyeyovee μὲν δὴ ὧδε ὁ ᾿Αλέξανδρος ὁ 
+, £ e N 5 , , N 3 ’ , 
+Αμύντεω' ὡς δὲ ἀπίκετο ἐς τὰς ᾿Αθήνας aro- 
+πεμφθεὶς ὑπὸ Μαρδονίου, ἔλεγε τάδε. "Ἄνδρες 
+, ^ / / / 
+Ἀθηναῖοι, Μαρδόνιος τάδε λέγει. ἐμοὶ ἀγγελίη 
+ἥκει παρὰ βασιλέος λέγουσα οὕτω. : ᾿Αθηναίοισι 
+τὰς ἁμαρτάδας τὰς ἐς ἐμὲ ἐξ ἐκείνων γενομένας 
+πάσας μετίημι. νῦν τε ὧδε Μαρδόνιε ποίεε" 
+τοῦτο μὲν τὴν γῆν σφι ἀπόδος, τοῦτο δὲ ἄλλην 
+
+ν 7 ες / 3 / e p! 204 
+πρὸς ταύτῃ ἑλέσθων αὐτοί, ἤντινα ἂν ἐθέλωσι, 
+ἐόντες αὐτόνομοι ἱρά τε πάντα σφι, ἣν δὴ Bov- 
+
+
+1 This was the fertile and beautiful valley in which stood 
+Aegae or Edessa (modern Vodena), the ancient home of the 
+Macedonian kings. 
+
+
+144 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 138-140 
+
+
+Argos of these men offer sacrifice, as their deliverer ; 
+this river, when the sons of Temenus had crossed it, 
+rose in such flood that the riders could not cross. 
+So the brothers came to another part of Macedonia 
+and settled near the place called the garden of 
+Midas son of Gordias,! wherein roses grow of them- 
+selves, each bearing sixty blossoms and of surpassing 
+fragrance; in which garden, by the Macedonian 
+story, Silenus? was taken captive ; above it rises the 
+mountain called Bermius, which none can ascend 
+for the wintry cold. Thence they issued forth 
+when they had won that country, and presently 
+subdued also the rest of Macedonia. 
+
+139. From that Perdiccas Alexander was descended, 
+being the son of Amyntas, who was the son of 
+Alcetes; Alcetes' father was Aeropus, and his was 
+Philippus; Philippus’ father was Argaeus, and his 
+again was Perdiccas, who won that lordship. 
+
+140. Such was the lineage of Alexander son of 
+Amyntas; who, when he came to Athens from 
+Mardonius who had sent him, spoke on this wise. 
+* This, Athenians, is what Mardonius says to you :— 
+There is a message come to me from the king, 
+saying, ‘I forgive the Athenians all the offences 
+which they have committed against me ; and now, 
+Mardonius, I bid you do this:—Give them back 
+their territory, and let them choose more for them- 
+selves besides, wheresoever they will, and dwell 
+under their own laws; and rebuild all their temples 
+
+2 This is a Phrygian tale, transferred to Macedonia. 
+Silenus was a ‘‘nature-deity,” inhabiting places of rich 
+vegetation: if captured, he was fabled in the Greek version 
+of the myth to give wise counsel to his captor. One may 
+
+
+compare the story of Proteus captured by Menelaus, in the 
+Odyssey. 
+
+
+145 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+λωνταί γε ἐμοὶ ὁμολογέειν, ἀνόρθωσον, ὅ ὅσα ἐγὼ 
+ἐνέπρησα.. τούτων δὲ ἀπιγμένων ἀναγκαίως ἔχει 
+μοι ποιέειν ταῦτα, ἣν. μὴ τὸ ὑμέτερον αἴτιον 
+γένηται. λέγω δὲ ὑμῖν τάδε. νῦν τί μαίνεσθε 
+πόλεμον βασιλέι .ἀειρόμενοι ; ; οὔτε γὰρ ἂν ὑπερ- 
+βάλοισθε οὔτε οἷοί τε ἐστὲ ἀντέχειν τὸν πάντα 
+χρόνον. εἴδετε μὲν γὰρ τῆς EéptEeo στρατηλα- 
+σίης τὸ πλῆθος καὶ τὰ ἔργα, πυνθάνεσθε δὲ καὶ 
+τὴν νῦν παρ᾽ ἐμοὶ ἐοῦσαν δύναμιν: ὥστε καὶ ἣν 
+ἡμέας ὑπερβάλησθε καὶ νικήσητε, τοῦ περ ὑμῖν 
+οὐδεμία ἐλπὶς εἴ περ εὖ Φρονέετε, ἄλλη παρέσται 
+πολλαπλησίη. μὴ ὧν Βούλεσθε παρισούμενοι 
+βασιλέι στέρεσθαι μὲν τῆς χώρης, θέειν δὲ αἰεὶ 
+περὶ ὑμέων αὐτῶν, ἀλλὰ καταλύσασθε' παρέχει 
+δὲ ὑμῖν κάλλιστα. καταλύσασθαι, ᾿βασιλέος 
+ταύτῃ ὁρμημένου. ἔστε ἐλεύθεροι, ἡμῖν ὁμαιχ- 
+mo συνθέμενοι à ἄνευ τε δόλου καὶ ἀπάτης. Μαρ- 
+δόνιος μὲν ταῦτα ὦ ᾿Αθηναῖοι ἐνετείλατό μοι 
+εἰπεῖν πρὸς ὑμέας" ἐγὼ δὲ περὶ μὲν εὐνοίης τῆς 
+πρὸς ὑμέας ἐούσης ἐξ ἐμεῦ οὐδὲν λέξω, οὐ yàp. ἂν 
+νῦν πρῶτον ἐκμάθοιτε, προσχρηίξω δὲ ὑμέων 
+πείθεσθαι Μαρδονίῳ, ἐνορῶ γὰρ ὑμῖν οὐκ οἵοισί 
+τε ἐσομένοισι τὸν πάντα χρόνον πολεμέειν Ξέρξῃ: 
+εἰ γὰρ ἐνώρων τοῦτο ἐν ὑμῖν, οὐκ ἄν κοτε ἐς ὑμέας 
+ἦλθον ἐ ἔχων λόγους τούσδε" καὶ γὰρ δύναμις i ὑπὲρ 
+ἄνθρωπον 7 Βασιλέος ἐστὶ καὶ χεὶρ ὑπερμήκη». 
+ἣν ὧν μὴ αὐτίκα ὁμολογήσητε, μεγάλα προτεινόν- 
+των ἐπ᾽ οἷσι ὁμολογέειν ἐθέλουσι, δειμαίνω ὑπὲρ 
+ὑμέων ἐν τρίβῳ τε μάλιστα οἰκημένων. τῶν συμ- 
+μάχων πάντων αἰεί τε φθειρομένων μούνων, ἐξαί- 
+ρετον μεταύχμιόν τε τὴν γῆν ἐκτημένων. ἀλλὰ 
+
+
+146 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 140 
+
+
+that I burnt, if they will make a covenant with me.” 
+This being the message, needs must that I obey it 
+(says Mardonius), unless you take it upon you to 
+hinder me. And this [ say to you:—Why are you 
+so mad as to wage war against the king? you 
+cannot overcome him, nor can you resist him for 
+ever. For the multitude of Xerxes’ host, and what 
+they did, you have seen, and you have heard of the 
+power that I now have with me; so that even if you 
+overcome and conquer us (whereof, if you be in your 
+right minds, you can have no hope), yet there will 
+come another host many times as great as this. Be 
+not then minded to match yourselves against the 
+king, and thereby lose your land and ever be your- 
+selves in jeopardy, but make peace; which you can 
+most honourably do, the king being that way 
+inclined ; keep your freedom, and agree to be our 
+brothers in arms in all faith and honesty.—This, 
+Athenians, is the message which Mardonius charges 
+me to give you. For my own part I will say nothing 
+of the goodwill that I have towards you, for it would 
+not be the first that you have learnt of that ; but I 
+entreat you to follow Mardonius' counsel. Well I 
+see that you will not have power to wage war against 
+Xerxes for ever; did I see such power in you, I had 
+never come to you with such language as this ; for 
+the king's might is greater than human, and his arm 
+islong. Iftherefore you will not straightway agree 
+with them, when the conditions which they offer 
+you, whereon they are ready to agree, are so great, 
+I fear what may befall you ; for of all the allies yor 
+dwell most in the very path of the war, and you alone 
+will never escape destruction, your country being 
+marked out for a battlefield. Nay, follow his counsel , 
+
+
+147 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+πείθεσθε' πολλοῦ γὰρ ὑμῖν ἄξια ταῦτα, εἰ βασι- 
+λεύς γε ὁ μέγας μούνοισι ὑμῖν Ελλήνων τὰς 
+ἁμαρτάδας ἀπιεὶς ἐθέλει φίλος γενέσθαι. 
+
+141. ᾿Αλέξανδρος μὲν ταῦτα ἔλεξε. Λακεδαι- 
+μόνιοι δὲ πυθόμενοι ἥκειν ᾿Αλέξανδρον ἐς ᾿Αθήνας 
+ἐς ὁμολογίην ἄξοντα τῷ βαρβάρῳ ᾿Αθηναίους, 
+ἀναμνησθέντες τῶν λογίων ὥς σφεας χρεόν ἐστι 
+ἅμα τοῖσι ἄλλοισι Δωριεῦσι ἐκπίπτειν ἐκ ITexo- 
+ποννήσου ὑπὸ Μήδων τε καὶ ᾿Αθηναίων, κάρτα 
+τε ἔδεισαν μὴ ὁμολογήσωσι τῷ Πέρσῃ ᾿Αθηναῖοι, 
+αὐτίκα τέ σφι ἔδοξε πέμπειν ἀγγέλους. καὶ δὴ 
+συνέπιπτε ὥστε ὁμοῦ σφεων γίνεσθαι τὴν κατά- 
+στασιν' ἐπανέμειναν γὰρ οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι διατρί- 
+βοντες, εὖ ἐπιστάμενοι ὅτι ἔμελλον Λακεδαιμόνιοι 
+πεύσεσθαι ἥκοντα παρὰ τοῦ βαρβάρου ἄγγελον 
+ἐπ᾿ ὁμολογίῃ, πυθὀμενοί τε πέμψειν κατὰ τάχος 
+ἀγγέλους. ἐπίτηδες ὧν ἐποίευν, ἐνδεικνύμενοι 
+τοῖσι Λακεδαιμονίοισι τὴν ἑωυτῶν γνώμην. 
+
+149. Ὡς δὲ ἐπαύσατο λέγων ᾿Αλέξανδρος, δια- 
+δεξάμενοι ἕλεγον οἱ ἀπὸ Σπάρτης ἄγγελοι “ Ημέας 
+δὲ ἔπεμψαν Λακεδαιμόνιοι δεησομένους ὑμέων 
+μήτε νεώτερον ποιέειν μηδὲν κατὰ τὴν Ἑλλάδα 
+μήτε λόγους ἐνδέκεσθαι παρὰ τοῦ βαρβάρου. 
+οὔτε γὰρ δίκαιον οὐδαμῶς οὔτε κόσμον φέρον οὔτε 
+ye ἄλλοισι ᾿Ελλήνων οὐδαμοῖσι, ὑμῖν δὲ δὴ καὶ 
+διὰ πάντων ἥκιστα πολλῶν εἵνεκα. ἠγείρατε γὰρ 
+τόνδε τὸν πόλεμον ὑμεῖς οὐδὲν ἡμέων βουλομένων, 
+καὶ περὶ τῆς ὑμετέρης. ἀρχῆθεν ὁ ἀγὼν ἐγένετο, 
+νῦν δὲ φέρει καὶ ἐς πᾶσαν τὴν ᾿Ελλάδα' ἄλλως 
+τε τούτων ἁπάντων αἰτίους γενέσθαι δουλοσύνης 
+
+
+148 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 140-142 
+
+
+for it is not to be lightly regarded by you that you 
+are the only men in Hellas whose offences the 
+great king is ready to forgive and whose friend he 
+would be." 
+
+141. Thus spoke Alexander. But the Lacedae- 
+monians had heard that Alexander was come to 
+Athens to bring the Athenians to an agreement with 
+the foreigner; and remembering the oracles, how 
+that they themselves with the rest of the Dorians 
+must be driven out of the Peloponnese by the Medes 
+and the Athenians, they were greatly afraid lest the 
+Athenians should agree with the Persian, and they 
+straightway resolved that they would send envoys. 
+Moreover it so fell out for both, that they made their 
+entry at one and the same time; for the Athenians 
+delayed, and tarried for them, being well assured 
+that the Lacedaemonians were like to hear that the 
+messenger was come from the Persians for an agree- 
+ment; and they had heard that the Lacedaemonians 
+would send their envoys with all speed; therefore it 
+was of set purpose that they did it, that they might 
+make their will known to the Lacedaemonians. 
+
+142. So when Alexander had made an end ot 
+speaking, the envoys from Sparta took up the tale, 
+and said, “ We on our part are sent by the Lace- 
+daemonians to entreat you to do nought hurtful to 
+Hellas and accept no offer from the foreigner. That 
+were a thing unjust and dishonourable for any 
+Greek, but for you most of all, on many counts; it 
+was you who stirred up this war, by no desire of ours, 
+and your territory was first the stake of that 
+battle, wherein all Hellas is now engaged; and 
+setting that apart, it is a thing not to be borne that 
+not all this alone but slavery too should be brought 
+
+
+149 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τοῖσι "Ελλησι ᾿Αθηναίους οὐδαμῶς ἀνασχετόν, 
+οἵτινες αἰεὶ καὶ τὸ πάλαι φαίνεσθε πολλοὺς έλευ- 
+θερώσαντες ἀνθρώπων. πιεζευµένοισι μέντοι ὑμῖν 
+συναχθόμεθα, καὶ ὅτι καρπῶν ἐστερήθητε διξῶν 
+ἤδη καὶ ὅτι οἰκοφθόρησθε χρόνον ἤδη πολλόν. 
+ἀντὶ τούτων δὲ ὑμῖν Λακεδαιμόνιοί τε καὶ οἱ σύμ- 
+μαχοι ἐπαγγέλλονται γυναῖκας τε καὶ τὰ ἐς 
+πόλεμον ἄχρηστα οἰκετέων ἐχόμενα πάντα ἐπι- 
+θρέψειν, ἔ ἔστ᾽ ἂν ὁ πόλεμος ὅδε συνεστήκῃ. μη δὲ 
+ὑμέας ᾿Αλέξανδρος ὁ Μακεδὼν ἀναγνώσῃ, λεήνας 
+τὸν Μαρδονίου λόγον. τούτῳ μὲν γὰρ ταῦτα 
+ποιητέα ἐστί' τύραννος γὰρ ἐὼν τυράννῳ συγ- 
+κατεργάζεται’ ὑμῖν δὲ οὐ ποιητέα, εἴ περ εὖ 
+τυγχάνετε φρονέοντες, ἐπισταμένοισι ὡς Bappa- 
+potat ἐστὶ οὔτε πιστὸν οὔτε ἀληθὲς οὐδέν.᾽ ταῦτα 
+ἔλεξαν οἱ ἄγγελοι. 
+
+145. ᾿Αθηναῖοι δὲ πρὸς μὲν ᾿Αλέξανδρον ὑπε- 
+κρίναντο τάδε. '' Καὶ αὐτοὶ τοῦτό γε ἐπιστάμεθα 
+ὅτι πολλαπλησίη ἐστὶ τῷ Μήδῳ δύναμις ἤ περ 
+€ ^ e , ^ [4 ^ / > / 3 ? 
+ἡμίν, ὥστε οὐδὲν δέει τοῦτό γε ὀνειδίζειν. ann 
+ὅμως «ἐλευθερίης γλιχόμενοι ἀμυνεύμεθα οὕτω 
+ὅκως ἂν καὶ δυνώμεθα. ὁμολογῆσαι δὲ τῷ βαρ- 
+Βάρῳ μήτε σὺ ἡμέας πειρῶ ἀναπείθειν οὔτε ἡμεῖς 
+πεισόμεθα. νῦν τε ἀπάγγελλε Μαρδονίῳ ὡς 
+᾿Αθηναῖοι λέγουσι, ἔστ᾽ ἂν ὁ ἥλιος τὴν αὐτὴν ὁδὸν 
+ἴῃ τῇ περ καὶ νῦν ἔρχεται, μήκοτε ὁμολογήσειν 
+ἡμέας Ξέρξη" ἀλλὰ θεοῖσί τε συμμάχοισι πίσυνοί 
+μιν. ἐπέξιμεν ἀμυνόμενοι. καὶ τοῖσι ἥρωσι, τῶν 
+ἐκεῖνος οὐδεμίαν ὄπιν ἔχων ἐνέπρησε τούς τε 
+οἴκους καὶ τὰ ἀγάλματα. σύ τε τοῦ λοιποῦ 
+λόγους ἔχων τοιούσδε. μὴ ἐπιφαίνεο ᾿Αθηναίοισι, 
+μηδὲ δοκέων χρηστὰ ὑπουργέειν ἀθέμιστα ἔρδειν 
+15ο 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 142-143 
+
+
+upon the Greeks by you Athenians, who have ever 
+of old been known for givers of freedom to many. 
+Nevertheless we grieve with you in your afHictions, 
+for that now you have lost two harvests and your 
+substance has been for a long time wasted; in 
+requital wherefor the Lacedaemonians and their 
+allies declare that they will nourish your women and 
+all of your households that are unserviceable for war, 
+so long as this war shalllast. But let not Alexander 
+the Macedonian win you with his smooth-tongued 
+praise of Mardonius' counsel. It is his business to 
+follow that counsel, for as he is a despot so must he 
+be the despot's fellow-worker; but it is not your 
+business, if you be men rightly minded; for you 
+know, that in foreigners there is no faith nor truth." 
+Thus spoke the envoys. 
+
+145. Butto Alexander the Athenians thus replied : 
+*« We know of ourselves that the power of the Mede 
+is many times greater than ours; there is no need to 
+taunt us with that. Nevertheless in our zeal for 
+freedom we will defend ourselves to the best of our 
+ability. But as touching agreements with the 
+foreigner, do not you essay to persuade us thereto, 
+nor will we consent; and now carry this answer 
+back to Mardonius from the Athenians, that as 
+long as the sun holds the course whereby he now 
+goes, we will make no agreement with Xerxes; but 
+we will fight against him without ceasing, trusting 
+in the aid of the gods and the heroes whom he has 
+set at nought and burnt their houses and their 
+adornments. To you we say, come no more to 
+Athenians with such a plea, nor under the semblance 
+of rendering us a service counsel us to do wickedly ; 
+
+
+15 1 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+παραίνεε' ov yap σε βουλόμεθα οὐδὲν ἄχαρι 
+πρὸς ᾿Αθηναίων παθεῖν ἐόντα πρόξεινόν τε καὶ 
+φίλον.” 
+
+144. Πρὸς μὲν ᾿Αλέξανδρον ταῦτα ὑπεκρίναντο, 
+πρὸς δὲ τοὺς ἀπὸ Σπάρτης ἀγγέλους τάδε. “To 
+μὲν δεῖσαι Λακεδαιμονί ίους μὴ ὁμολογήσωμεν τῷ 
+βαρβάρῳ, κάρτα ἀνθρωπήιον ἦν: ἀτὰρ αἰσχρῶς 
+γε οἴκατε ἐξεπιστάμενοι τὸ ᾿Αθηναίων φρόνημα 
+ἀρρωδῆσαι, ὅτι οὔτε χρυσός ἐστι γῆς οὐδαμόθι 
+τοσοῦτος οὔτε χώρη κάλλεϊ καὶ ἀρετῇ μέγα 
+ὑπερφέρουσα, τὰ ἡμεῖς δεξάμενοι ἐθέλοιμεν ἂν 
+μηδίσαντες καταδουλῶσαι τὴν Ελλάδα. πολλά 
+τε γὰρ καὶ μεγάλα ἐστὶ τὰ διακωλύοντα ταῦτα 
+μὴ ποιέειν μηδ᾽ ἣν ἐθέλωμεν, πρῶτα μὲν καὶ 
+μέγιστα τῶν θεῶν τὰ ἀγάλματα καὶ τὰ οἰκήματα 
+ἐμπεπρησμένα τε καὶ συγκεχωσμένα, τοῖσι ἡμέας 
+ἀναγκαίως ἔχει τιμωρέειν ἐς τὰ μέγιστα μᾶλλον 
+7j περ ὁμολογέειν τῷ ταῦτα ἐργασαμένῳ, αὖτις δὲ 
+τὸ Ελληνικὸν ἐὸν ὅμαιμόν τε καὶ ὁμόγλωσσον καὶ 
+θεῶν T τε κοινὰ καὶ θυσίαι ἠθεά τε ὁμό- 
+τροπα, τῶν προδότας γενέσθαι ᾿Αθηναίους οὐκ 
+ἂν εὖ ἔχοι. ἐπίστασθέ τε οὕτω, εἰ μὴ πρότερον 
+ἐτυγχάνετε ἐπιστάμενοι, ἔστ᾽ ἂν καὶ εἷς περιῇ 
+᾿Αθηναίων, μηδαμὰ ὁμολογήσοντας ἡμέας Ξέρξῃ. 
+ὑμέων μέντοι ἀγάμεθα τὴν προνοίην τὴν πρὸς 
+ἡμέας ἐοῦσαν, ὅτι προείδετε ἡμέων οἰκοφθορη- 
+μένων οὕτω ὥστε ἐπιθρέψαι ἐθέλειν ἡμέων τοὺς 
+οἰκέτας. καὶ ὑμῖν μὲν ἡ χάρις ἐκπεπλήρωται, 
+ἡμεῖς μέντοι λιπαρήσομεν οὕτω ὅκως ἂν ἔχωμεν, 
+οὐδὲν λυπέοντες ὑμέας. νῦν δέ, ὡς οὕτω ἐχόντων, 
+στρατιὴν ὡς τάχιστα ἐκπέμπετε. ὡς γὰρ ἡμεῖς 
+εἰκάζομεν, οὐκ ἑκὰς χρόνου παρέσται ὁ βάρβαρος 
+
+
+152 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 143-144 
+
+
+for we would not that you who are our friend and 
+protector should suffer any harm at Athenian hands." 
+
+144. Such was their answer to Alexander; but to 
+the Spartan envoys they said, * It was most human 
+that the Lacedaemonians should fear our making an 
+agreement with the foreigner; but we think you do 
+basely to be afraid, knowing the Athenian temper to 
+be such that there is nowhere on earth such store of 
+gold or such territory of surpassing fairness and 
+excellence that the gift of it should win us to take 
+the Persian part and enslave Hellas. Του there are 
+many great reasons why we should not do this, even 
+if we so desired ; first and chiefest, the burning and 
+destruction of the adornments and temples of our 
+gods, whom we are constrained to avenge to the 
+uttermost rather than make covenants with the doer 
+of these things, and next the kinship of all Greeks 
+in blood and speech, and the shrines of gods and the 
+sacrifices that we have in common, and the likeness 
+of our way of life, to all which it would ill beseem 
+Athenians to be false. Know this now, if you knew 
+it not before, that as long as one Athenian is left 
+alive we will make no agreement with Xerxes. 
+Nevertheless we thank you for your forethought 
+concerning us, in that you have so provided for our 
+wasted state that you offer to nourish our households. 
+For your part, you have given us full measure of 
+kindness; yet for ourselves, we will make shift to 
+endure as best we may, and not be burdensome to 
+you. But now, seeing that this is so, send your 
+army with all speed; for as we guess, the foreigner 
+
+
+153 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+> ; 
+ἐσβαλὼν ἐς τὴν ἡμετέρην, ἀλλ᾽ ἐπειδὰν τάχιστα 
+πύθηται τὴν ἀγγελίην ὅτι οὐδὲν ποιήσομεν τῶν 
+ἐκεῖνος ἡμέων προσεδέετο. πρὶν ὧν παρεῖναι 
+ἐκεῖνον ἐς τὴν ᾿Αττικήν, ἡμέας καιρός ἐστι προ- 
+
+- \ / ? A A 
+
+βοηθῆσαι ἐς τὴν Botwtinv.” ot μὲν ταῦτα vro- 
+
+/ , 0 / 3 / 3 - / 
+κριναµένων Λθηναίων ἀπαλλάσσοντο ἐς Σπάρτην. 
+
+
+154 
+
+
+BOOK VIII. 144 
+
+
+will be upon us and invading our country in no long 
+time, but as soon as ever the message comes to him 
+that we will do nothing that he requires of us; 
+wherefore, ere he comes into Attica, now is the time 
+for us to march first into Boeotia." At this reply of 
+the Athenians the envoys returned back to Sparta. 
+
+
+(55 
+
+
+I 
+
+
+l. Μαρδόνιος δέ, ὥς οἱ ἀπονοστήσας ᾿Αλέξαν- 
+δρος τὰ παρὰ ᾿Αθηναίων ἐσήμηνε, ὁρμηθεὶς ἐκ 
+Θεσσαλίης ἦγε τὴν στρατιὴν σπουδῇ ἐπὶ τὰς 
+᾿Αθήνας. ὅκου δὲ ἑκάστοτε γίνοιτο, τούτους 
+παρελάμβανε. τοῖσι δὲ Θεσσαλίης ἡγεομένοισι 
+οὔτε τὰ πρὸ τοῦ πεπρηγμένα μετέμελε οὐδὲν 
+πολλῷ τε μᾶλλον ἐπῆγον τὸν Πέρσην, καὶ ovp- 
+T poc πεμψέ τε Θώρηξ ὸ Ληρισαῖος Ξέρξην dev- 
+Ύοντα καὶ τότε ἐκ τοῦ φανεροῦ παρῆκε Μαρδόνιον 
+ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα. 
+
+2. ᾿Επεὶ δὲ πορευόμενος γίνεται ὃ στρατὸς 
+ἐν Βοιωτοῖσι, οἱ Θηβαῖοι κατελάμβανον τὸν 
+Μαρδόνιον καὶ συνεβούλευον αὐτῷ λέγοντες ὡς 
+οὐκ εἴη χῶρος ἐπιτηδεότερος ἐνστρατοπεδεύεσθαι 
+ἐκείνου, οὐδὲ ἔων ἱέναι ἑκαστέρω, ἀλλ᾽ αὐτοῦ 
+ἱζόμενον ποιέειν ὅκως ἀμαχητὶ τὴν πᾶσαν Ἑλλάδα 
+καταστρέψεται. κατὰ μὲν γὰρ τὸ ἰσχυρὸν "EX- 
+Anvas ὁμοφρονέοντας, οὗ περ καὶ πάρος ταὐτὰ 
+ἐγίνωσκον, χαλεπὰ εἶναι περιγίνεσθαι καὶ ἅπασι 
+ἀνθρώποισι: “εἰ δὲ ποιήσεις τὰ ἡμεῖς παραινέ- 
+open,” ἔφασαν λέγοντες, ** ἕξεις ἀπόνως πάντα 
+τὰ ἐκείνων ἰσχυρὰ βουλεύματα" πέμπε χρήματα 
+és TOUS δυναστεύοντας ἄνδρας ἐν τῆσι πόλισι, 
+πέμπων δὲ τὴν Ελλάδα διαστήσεις' ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ 
+
+
+158 
+
+
+BOOK IX 
+
+
+1. Mardonius, when Alexander returned and told 
+him what he had heard from the Athenians, set forth 
+from Thessaly and led his army with all zeal against 
+Athens!; and to whatsoever country he came he 
+took its people along with him. The rulers of 
+Thessaly repented no whit of what they had already 
+done, and were but readier than before to further 
+his march ; and Thorax of Larissa, who had aided to 
+give Xerxes safe-conduct in his flight, did now without 
+disguise open a passage for Mardonius into Hellas. 
+
+2. But when the army in its march was come into 
+Boeotia, the Thebans sought to stay Mardonius, 
+advising him that he could find no country better 
+fitted than theirs for encampment; he should not 
+(they pleaded) go further, but rather halt there and so 
+act as to subdue all Hellas without fighting. For as 
+long as the Greeks who before had been of the same 
+way of thinking remained in accord, it would be a 
+hard matter even for the whole werld to overcome 
+them by force of arms; “ but if you do as we advise," 
+said the Thebans as they spoke, “ you will without 
+trouble be master of all their counsels of battle. 
+Send money to the men that have power in their 
+cities, and thereby you will divide Hellas against 
+
+
+! In the summer of 479. Mardonius occupied Athens in 
+July. 
+
+
+159 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τοὺς μὴ τὰ σὰ φρονέοντας ῥηιδίως μετὰ τῶν 
+στασιωτέων καταστρέψεαι." 
+^ . , , 2 
+
+3. Of μὲν ταῦτα συνεβούλευον, ὃ δὲ οὐκ ἐπεί- 
+θετο, AM οἱ δεινὸς ἐνέστακτο ἵμερος τὰς ᾿Αθήνας 
+δεύτερα ἑλεῖν, ἅμα μὲν ὑπ᾽ ἀγνωμοσύνης, ἅμα δὲ 
+πυρσοῖσι διὰ νήσων ἐδόκεε βασιλέι δηλώσειν 
+37 > N / ὂ ef » » 8 / A δὲ / 
+ἐόντι ἐν Σάρδισι ὅτι ἔχοι ᾿Αθήνας: ὃς οὐδὲ τότε 
+3 M e 
+ἀπικόμενος ἐς τὴν ᾿Αττικὴν εὗρε τοὺς ᾿Αθηναίους, 
+, 2:099 v ^ ` / 2 0 4 
+ἀλλ, ἐν τε Φαλαμινι τους πλειστους ἐπυνθάνετο 
+εἶναι ἔν τε τῆσι νηυσί, αἱρέει τε ἔρημον τὸ ἄστυ. 
+ε N / Cf , . e / N 
+ἡ δὲ βασιλέος αἱρεσις ἐς τὴν ὑστέρην THY Map- 
+δονίου ἐπιστρατηίην δεκάμηνος ἐγένετο. 
+
+4. ᾿Επεὶ δὲ ἐν ᾿Αθήνησι ἐγένετο ὁ Μαρδόνιος, 
+πέμπει ἐς Σαλαμῖνα Μουρυχίδην ἄνδρα Ἕλλησ- 
+πόντιον φέροντα τοὺς αὐτοὺς λόγους τοὺς καὶ 
+᾿Αλέξανδρος ὁ Μακεδὼν τοῖσι ᾿Αθηναίοισι διε- 
+πόρθµευσε. ταῦτα δὲ τὸ δεύτερον ἀπέστελλε 
+προέχων μὲν τῶν ᾿Αθηναίων οὐ φιλίας γνώμας, 
+ἐλπίζων δὲ σφέας ὑπήσειν τῆς ἀγνωμοσύνης, ὡς 
+δοριαλώτου ἐούσης τῆς ᾿Αττικῆς χώρης καὶ ἐούσης 
+ὑπ᾽ ἑωυτῶ. 
+
+5. Τούτων μὲν εἵνεκα ἀπέπεμψε Μουρυχίδην 
+ἐς Σαλαμῖνα, ὃ δὲ ἀπικόμενος. ἐπὶ τὴν βουλὴν 
+
+/ 
+ἔλεγε τὰ παρὰ Μαρδονίου. τῶν δὲ βουλευτέων 
+Λυκίδης εἶπε γνώμην, ὡς ἐδόκεε ἄμεινον εἶναι δε- 
+ξαμένους τὸν λόγον, τόν σφι Μουρυχίδης προφέ épet, 
+ἐξενεῖκαι ἐς τὸν δῆμον. ὃ μὲν δὴ ταύτην τὴν 
+γνώμην ἀπεφαίνετο, εἴτε δὴ δεδεγμένος χρήματα 
+mene Μαρδονίου, εἴτε καὶ ταῦτά οἱ ἑάνδανε' 
+
+Αθηναῖοι δὲ αὐτίκα δεινὸν ποιησάμενοι ot τε ἐκ 
+τῆς βουλῆς καὶ οἱ ἔξωθεν ὡς ἐπύθοντο, περι- 
+
+
+160 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. 2-5 
+
+
+itself; and after that, with your partisans to aid, you 
+will easily subdue those who are your adversaries." 
+
+3. Such was their counsel, but he would not 
+follow it; rather he was imbued with a wondrous 
+desire to take Athens once more; this was partly of 
+mere perversity, and partly because he thought to 
+signify to the king at Sardis by a line of beacons 
+across the islands that he held Athens. Yet on his 
+coming to Attica he found the Athenians no more 
+there than before, but, as he learnt, the most of 
+them were on shipboard at Salamis; and he took the 
+city, but no men therein. There were ten months 
+between the king’s taking of the place and the later 
+invasion of Mardonius. 
+
+4. When Mardonius came to Athens, he sent to 
+Salamis one Murychides, a man of the Hellespont, 
+bearing the same offer as Alexander the Macedonian 
+had ferried across to the Athenians. He sent this 
+the second time because, albeit he knew already 
+the Athenians’ unfriendly purpose, he expected that 
+they would abate their stiff-neckedness now that 
+Attica was the captive of his spear and lay at his 
+mercy. 
+
+5. For this reason he sent Murychides to Salamis, 
+who came before the council and told them 
+Mardonius message. ‘Then Lycidas, one of the 
+councillors, gave it for his opinion that it seemed 
+to him best to receive the offer brought to them 
+by Murychides and lay it before the people. This 
+was the opinion which he declared, either because 
+he had been bribed by Mardonius, or because the 
+plan pleased him ; but the Athenians in the council 
+were very wroth, and so too when they heard of it 
+were they that were outside; and they made a ring 
+
+
+161 
+VOL. IV. G 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+στάντες Λυκίδην κατέλευσαν βάλλοντες, τὸν δὲ 
+ε F 
+Ελλησπόντιον Μουρυχίδην ἀπέπεμψαν ἀσινέα. 
+{ N / » ^ ^ Ν N 
+γενομένου δὲ θορύβου ἐν τῇ Σαλαμῖνι περὶ τὸν 
+/ M 4 ^ 
+Λυκίδην, πυνθάνονται τὸ γινόμενον αἱ γυναῖκες 
+^ / 
+τῶν ᾿Αθηναίων, διακελευσαμένη δὲ γυνὴ γυναικὶ 
+ν ^ 3. — N N / 3m » 
+καὶ παραλαβοῦσα ἐπὶ τὴν Λυκίδεω οἰκίην ἤισαν 
+N ^ 
+αὐτοκελέες, καὶ κατὰ μὲν ἔλευσαν αὐτοῦ τὴν 
+^ \ b / 
+γυναῖκα κατὰ δὲ τὰ τέκνα. 
+- / » A 
+6. 'Es δὲ τὴν Σαλαμῖνα διέβησαν οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι 
+9 t / A 
+ὧδε. ἕως μὲν προσεδέκοντο ἐκ τῆς Πελοποννήσου 
+στρατὸν ἥξειν τιμωρήσοντά σφι, οἳ δὲ ἔμενον ἐν 
+^ ^ e [4 
+τῇ Αττικῇ: ἐπεὶ δὲ οἳ μὲν μακρότερα καὶ σχολαί- 
+, / ^ δὲ M S N ôr ? A ΄ 
+Tepa ἐποίεον, ὃ δὲ ἐπιών καὶ δὴ ἐν τῇ Βοιωτίῃ 
+/ e ~ / [4 
+ἐλέγετο εἶναι, οὕτω δὴ ὑπεξεκομίσαντό τε πάντα 
+/ ^ 
+καὶ αὐτοὶ διέβησαν ἐς Σαλαμῖνα, és Λακεδαί- 
+/ 
+μονά τε ἔπεμπον ἀγγέλους ἅμα μὲν µεμψομένους 
+^ f ^ 
+τοῖσι Λακεδαιμονίοισι ὅτι περιεῖδον ἐμβαλόντα 
+S / > A > N , , » N 
+τὸν βάρβαρον ἐς τὴν ᾿Αττικὴν ἀλλ᾽ οὐ μετὰ 
+d , ΄ bd . / [24 N e ή 
+σφέων ἠντίασαν ἐς τὴν Βοιωτίην, ἅμα δὲ ὑπομνή- 
+P; / e / ^ 
+σοντας ὅσα σφι ὑπέσχετο o Πέρσης μεταβαλοῦσι 
+δώσειν, προεῖπαί τε ὅτι εἰ μὴ ἀμυνεῦσι ᾿Αθη- 
+e / \ 
+ναΐοισι, ὡς καὶ αὐτοί τινα ἀλεωρὴν εὑρήσονται. 
+ε ~ . [4 e r A 
+7. Οἱ γὰρ δὴ Λακεδαιμόνιοι ὅρταξοόν τε τοῦτον 
+N / / ç e / \ , 
+τὸν χρόνον καί σφι ἦν Ὑακίνθια, περὶ πλείστου 
+δ᾽ ἦγον τὰ τοῦ θεοῦ πορσύνειν' ἅμα δὲ τὸ τεῖχός 
+N , ^ 9 0 ^ 3 / M no > / 
+σφι, τὸ ἐν τῷ ᾿Ισθμῷ ἐτείχεον, καὶ ἤδη ἐπάλξις 
+3 / e b 3 / , iN / 
+ἐλάμβανε. ὡς δὲ ἀπίκοντο ἐς τὴν Λακεδαίμονα 
+εν e 3 3 9 / e , / » 
+οἱ ἄγγελοι οἱ am’ ᾿Αθηνέων, ἅμα ἀγόμενοι ἔκ τε 
+N / f. 
+Μεγάρων ἀγγέλους καὶ ἐκ Πλαταιέων, ἔλεγον 
+162 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 5-7 
+
+
+round l,ycidas and stoned him to death. But they 
+suffered Murychides the Hellespontian to depart 
+unharmed. ‘There was much noise at Salamis over 
+the business of Lycidas; and when the Athenian 
+women learnt what was afoot, one calling to another 
+and bidding her follow, they went of their own 
+motion to the house of Lycidas, and stoned to death 
+his wife and his children. 
+
+6. Now this was how the Athenians had passed 
+over to Salamis. As long as they expected that the 
+Peloponnesian army would come to their aid, so long 
+they abode in Attica. But when the Pelopon- 
+nesians were ever longer and slower in action, and 
+the invader was said to be already in Boeotia, they 
+did then convey all their goods out of harm's way 
+and themselves crossed over to Salamis; and they 
+sent envoys to Lacedaemon, who should upbraid the 
+Lacedaemonians for suffering the foreigner to invade 
+Attica and not meeting him in Boeotia with the 
+Athenians to aid; and should bid the Lacedae- 
+monians withal remember what promises the Persian 
+had made to Athens if she would change sides, and 
+warn them that the Athenians would devise some 
+succour for themselves if the Lacedaemonians sent 
+them no help. 
+
+7. For the Lacedaemonians were at this time 
+holiday-making, keeping the festival of H yacinthus,! 
+and their chiefest care was to give the god his due; 
+moreover, the wall that they were building on the 
+Isthmus was by now even getting its battlements. 
+When the Athenian envoys were arrived at Lace- 
+daemon, bringing with them envoys from Megara 
+
+
+1 A festival said to be of pre-Dorian origin, commemorating 
+the killing of Hyacinthus by Apollo. 
+163 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τάδε ἐπελθόντες ἐπὶ τοὺς ἐφόρους. “ἔπεμψαν 
+ἡμέας ᾿Αθηναῖοι λέγοντες ὅτι ἡμῖν βασιλεὺς ὁ 
+Μήδων τοῦτο μὲν τὴν χώρην ἀποδιδοῖ, τοῦτο δὲ 
+συμμάχους ἐθέλει ἐ em ἴσῃ τε καὶ ὁμοίῃ ποιήσασθαι 
+ἄνευ τε δόλου καὶ ἀπάτης, ἐθέλει δὲ καὶ ἄλλην 
+χώρην πρὸς τῇ ἡμετέρῃ διδόναι, τὴν ἂν αὐτοὶ 
+ἑλώμεθα. ἡμεῖς δὲ Δία τε ᾿Ελλήνιον αἰδεσθέντες 
+καὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα δεινὸν ποιεύμενοι προδοῦναι οὐ 
+καταινέσαμεν ἀλλ. ἀπειπάμεθα, καίπερ ἀδικεό- 
+μενοι ὑπ᾽ Ελλήνων καὶ καταπροδιδόµενοι, ἐπι- 
+στάμενοί τε ὅτι κερδαλεώτερον ἐστὶ ὁμολογέειν 
+τῷ Πέρσῃ μᾶλλον ἢ περ πολεμέειν’ ov μὲν οὐδὲ 
+ὁμολογήσομεν ἑκόντες εἶναι. καὶ τὸ μὲν ἀπ 
+ἡμέων οὕτω ἀκίβδηλον νέμεται ἐπὶ τοὺς" Ελληνας: 
+ὑμεῖς δὲ ἐς πᾶσαν ἀρρωδίην τότε ἀπικόμενοι μὴ 
+ὁμολογήσωμεν τῷ Πέρση, ἐπείτε ἐξεμάθετε τὸ 
+ἡμέτερον φρόνημα σαφέως, ὅτι οὐδαμὰ. προδώ- 
+σομεν τὴν Ελλάδα, καὶ διότι τεῖχος ὑμῖν διὰ 
+τοῦ ᾿1σθ μοῦ ἐλαυνόμενον ἐν τέλεὶῖ ἐστί, καὶ δὴ 
+λόγον οὐδένα τῶν ᾿Αθηναίων ποιέεσθε, συνθέ- 
+μενοί τε ἡμῖν τὸν Πέρσην ἀντιώσεσθαι ἐς τὴν 
+Βοιωτίην προδεδώκατε, 'περιείδετέ τε προεσβα- 
+λόντα ἐς τὴν ᾿Αττικὴν τὸν βάρβαρον. ἐς μέν νυν 
+τὸ παρεὸν ᾿Αθηναῖοι ἱ ὑμῖν. μηνίουσι: οὐ γὰρ ἐποιή- 
+σατε ἐπιτηδέως. νῦν δὲ ὅ ὅτι τάχος. στρατιὴν ἅμα 
+ἡμῖν ἐκέλευσαν ὑμέας ἐκπέμπειν, ὡς ἂν τὸν Βάρ- 
+βαρον δεκώμεθα é ἐν τῇ Αττικῇ" ἐπειδὴ γὰρ ἡμάρ- 
+Τοµεν τῆς Βοιωτίης, τῆς γε ἡμετέρης ἐπιτηδεότατον 
+ἐστὶ μαχέσασθαι τὸ Θριάσιον πεδίον.” 
+
+8. Ὡς δὲ ἄρα ἤκουσαν οἱ ἔφοροι ταῦτα, ave- 
+Βάλλοντο ἐς τὴν ὑστεραίην ὑποκρίνασθαι, τῇ δὲ 
+
+
+164 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 7-8 
+
+
+and Plataeae, they came before the ephors and said; 
+“The Athenians have sent us with this message: 
+The king of the Medes is ready to give us back our 
+country, and to make us his confederates, equal in 
+right and standing, in all honour and honesty, and 
+to give us withal whatever land we ourselves may 
+choose besides our own. But we, for that we would 
+not sin against Zeus the god of Hellas, and think 
+it shame to betray Hellas, have not consented, but 
+refused, and this though the Greeks are dealing 
+with us wrongfully and betraying us to our hurt, 
+and though we know that it is rather for our 
+advantage to make terms with the Persian than to 
+wage war with him ; yet we will not make terms 
+with him, of our own free will. Thus for our part 
+we act honestly by the Greeks; but what of you, 
+who once were in great dread lest we should make 
+terms with the Persian? Because now you have clear 
+knowledge of our temper and are sure that we will 
+never betray Hellas, and because the wall that you 
+are building across the Isthmus is well-nigh finished, 
+to-day you take no account of the Athenians, but 
+have deserted us for all your promises that you 
+would withstand the Persian in Boeotia, and have 
+suffered the foreigner to march into Attica. For 
+the nonce, then, the Athenians are angry with you ; 
+for that which you have done beseems you ill. But 
+now they pray you to send with us an army with all 
+speed, that we may await the foreigner's onset in 
+Attica; for since we have lost Boeotia, in our own 
+land the fittest battle-ground is the Thriasian 
+plain." 
+
+8. When the ephors, it would seem, heard that, 
+they delayed answering till the next day, and again 
+
+
+165 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὑστεραίῃ ἐς τὴν ἑτέρην" τοῦτο καὶ ἐπὶ δέκα ἡμέρας 
+ἐποίεον, ἐξ ἡ ἡμέρης ἐς ἡμέρην ἀναβαλλόμενοι. ἐν 
+δὲ τούτῳ τῷ χρόνῳ; τὸν ᾿Ισθμὸν è ἐτείχεον σπουδὴν 
+ἔχοντες πολλὴν πάντες Πελοποννήσιοι, καί σφι 
+ἣν πρὸς τέλεϊ. οὐδ᾽ ἔχω εἰπεῖν τὸ αἴτιον διότι 
+ἀπικομένου μὲν ᾿Αλεξάνδρου τοῦ Μακεδόνος ἐς 
+᾿Αθήνας σπουδὴν μεγάλην ἐποιήσαντο μὴ μηδίσαι 
+᾿Αθηναίους, τότε δὲ ὤρην ἐποιήσαντο οὐδεμίαν, 
+ἄλλο γε ἢ ὅτι ὁ Ἴσθμ 6s σφι ἐτετείχιστο καὶ 
+ἐδόκεον ᾿Αθηναίων ἔτι δεῖσθαι οὐδέν: ὅτε δὲ 
+᾿Αλέξανδρος ἀπίκετο ἐς τὴν Αττικήν, οὔκω ἀπε- 
+τετείχιστο, ἐργάξοντο δὲ μεγάλως καταρρωδηκότες 
+τοὺς ]]έρσας. 
+
+9. Τέλος δὲ τῆς τε ὑποκρίσιος καὶ ἐξόδου τῶν 
+Σπαρτιητέων ἐγένετο τρόπος τοιόσδε. τῇ προ- 
+τεραίῃ τῆς ὑστάτης καταστάσιος μελλούσης 
+ἔσεσθαι Χίλεος ἀνὴρ Teyentns, δυνάμενος ἐν Aa- 
+κεδαίµονι μέγιστον ξείνων, τῶν ἐφόρων ἐπύθετο 
+πάντα λόγον τὸν δὴ οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι ἔλεγον: ἀκού- 
+σας δὲ ὁ Χίλεος ἔλεγε ἄρα σφι τάδε. “Οὕτω 
+ἔχει, ἄνδρες ἔφοροι: ᾿Αθηναίων ἡμῖν ἐόντων μὴ 
+ἀρθμίων τῷ δὲ βαρβάρῳ συμμάχων, καίπερ 
+τείχεος διὰ τοῦ Ἰσθμοῦ ἐληλαμένου καρτεροῦ, 
+μεγάλαι κλισιάδες ἀναπεπτέαται ἐς τὴν ILexo- 
+πόννησον τῷ Πέρση. ἀλλ᾽ ἐσακούσατε, πρίν τι 
+ἄλλο ᾿Αθηναίοισι δόξαι σφάλμα φέρον τῇ 'EA- 
+λάδι. 
+
+10. Ὃ μέν σφι ταῦτα συνεβούλευε: of δὲ 
+φρενὶ λαβόντες τὸν λόγον αὐτίκα, φράσαντες 
+οὐδὲν τοῖσι ἀγγέλοισι τοῖσι ἀπιγμένοισι ἀπὸ τῶν 
+πολίων, νυκτὸς ἔτι ἐκπέμπουσι πεντακισχιλίους 
+Σπαρτιητέων καὶ ἑπτὰ περὶ ἕκαστον τάξαντες 
+166 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 8-10 
+
+
+till the day after; and this they did for ten days, 
+putting off from day to day. In the meantime all 
+the Peloponnesians were fortifying the Isthmus with 
+might and main, and they had the work well-nigh 
+done. Nor can I say why it was that when Alex- 
+ander the Macedonian came to Athens! the Lace- 
+daemonians were urgent that the Athenians should 
+not take the Persian part, yet now made no account 
+of that; except it was that now they had the Isth- 
+mus fortified and thought they had no more need of 
+the Athenians, whereas when Alexander came to 
+Attica their wall was not yet built, and they were 
+working thereat in great fear of the Persians. 
+
+9. But the manner of their answering at last and 
+sending the Spartan army was this: On the day 
+before that hearing which should have been the 
+last, Chileüs, a man of Tegea, who had more 
+authority with the Lacedaemonians than any other 
+of their guests, learnt from the ephors all that the 
+Athenians had said ; and having heard it he said, as 
+the tale goes, to the ephors, “ Sirs, this is how the 
+matter stands: if the Athenians be our enemies and 
+the foreigner's allies, then though you drive a strong 
+wall across the Isthmus the Persian has an effectual 
+door opened for passage into the Peloponnese, Nay, 
+hearken to them, ere the Athenians take some new 
+resolve that will bring calamity to Hellas." 
+
+10. This was the counsel he gave the ephors, who 
+straightway took it to heart ; saying no word to the 
+envoys who were come from the cities, they bade 
+march before dawn of day five thousand Spartans, 
+with seven helots appointed to attend each of them; 
+
+
+4 cp. viii. 1956. 
+167 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τῶν εἰλώτων, Παυσανίῃ τῷ Κλεομβρότου ἐπιτά- 
+ξαντες ἐξάγειν. ἐγίνετο μὲν 7) ἡγεμονίη Ie- 
+στάρχου τοῦ Λεωνίδεω" ἀλλ, ὃ μὲν ἦν ἔτι παῖς, 
+ὃ δὲ τούτου emit por os TE καὶ ἀνεψιός. Κλεόμ- 
+βροτος yap ὃ Παυσανίεω μὲν πατὴρ ᾿Αναξανδρί- 
+δεω δὲ παῖς οὐκέτι περιῆν, ἀλλ’ ἀπαγαγὼν ἐκ 
+τοῦ Ἰσθμοῦ τὴν στρατιὴν. τὴν τὸ τεῖχος δείµασαν 
+μετὰ ταῦτα οὐ πολλὸν χρόνον τινὰ βιοὺς ἀπέθανε. 
+ἀπῆγε δὲ τὴν στρατιὴν ὁ Κλεόμβροτος ἐκ τοῦ 
+Ἰσθμοῦ διὰ τόδε" θυομένῳ οἱ ἐπὶ τῷ Πέρσῃ ὁ 
+ἥλιος ἀμαυρώθη ἐν τῷ οὐρανῷ. προσαιρέεται δὲ 
+ε - > ’ 3 r `~ 2 5 
+ἑωυτῷ llavcavigs Πὐρυάνακτα τὸν Δωριέος, ἄνδρα 
+οἰκίης ἐόντα τῆς αὐτῆς. 
+
+11. Oi μὲν δὴ σὺν Παυσανίῃ ἐξεληλύθεσαν 
+» bu ’ ^ E δὲ 394 ` e e / 9 ΄ 
+ἔξω Σπάρτης" οἱ ÒE ἄγγελοι, ὡς ἡμέρη ἐγεγόνεε, 
+305 LAZ N ^ 25-7 > ^ δουν q 
+οὐδὲν εἰδότες περὶ τῆς ἐξόδου ἐπῆλθον ἐπὶ τοὺς 
+3 / 5 ? CN » , A ν 
+ἐφόρους, ἐν νόῳ δὴ ἔχοντες ἀπαλλάσσεσθαι καὶ 
+αὐτοὶ ἐπὶ τὴν ἑωυτοῦ ἕκαστος: ἐπελθόντες δὲ 
+»’ {ὃ ce N A \ 5 A ὃ , > ^ 
+ἔλεγον τάὀε. μεις μεν, W (λακεδαιμονιοι αὐτου 
+^ / 
+τῇδε μένοντες Υακίνθιά τε ἄγετε καὶ παίζετε, 
+καταπροδόντες τοὺς συµµάχους' ᾿Αθηναῖοι δὲ ὡς 
+
+/ N / m 
+
+ἀδικεόμενοι ὑπὸ ὑμέων χήτεϊ τε συμμάχων KATA- 
+λύσονται τῷ Πέρση οὕτω ὅκως ἂν δύνωνται’ 
+καταλυσάµενοι δέ, δῆλα γὰρ ὅτι σύμμαχοι Βασι- 
+λέος γινόμεθα, συστρατευσόμεθα € ev ἣν ἂν ἐκεῖνοι 
+ἐξηγέωνται. ὑμεῖς δὲ τὸ ἐνθεῦτεν μαθήσεσθε 
+ὁκοῖον ἄν τι ὑμῖν ἐξ αὐτοῦ ἐκβαίνη.” ταῦτα λε- 
+γόντων τῶν ἀγγέλων, οἱ ἔφοροι εἶπαν ἐπ᾿ ὅρκου 
+καὶ δὴ δοκέειν εἶναι ἐν ᾿Ὀρεσθείῳ στείχοντας ἐπὶ 
+
+
+1 His cousin; Euryanax was son of Dorieus, who was a 
+brother of Pausanias’ father Cleombrotus. 
+
+
+168 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΝ. το-τι 
+
+
+and they gave the command to Pausanias son of 
+Cleombrotus. The leader's place belonged of right 
+to Pleistarchus son of Leonidas; but he was yet a 
+boy, and Pausanias his guardian and cousin. For 
+Cleombrotus, Pausanias father and Anaxandrides’ 
+son, was no longer living; after he led away from 
+the Isthmus the army which had built the wall, 
+he lived but a little while ere his death. The 
+reason of Cleombrotus leading his army away 
+from the Isthmus was that while he was offering 
+sacrifice for victory over the Persian the sun was 
+darkened in the heavens. Pausanias chose as his 
+colleague a man of the same family,! Euryanax son 
+of Dorieus. 
+
+11. So Pausanias army had marched away from 
+Sparta ; but as soon as it was day, the envoys came 
+before the ephors, having no knowledge of the 
+expedition, and being minded themselves too to 
+depart each one to his own place ; and when they 
+were come, ‘‘ You Lacedaemonians," they said, 
+“abide still where you are, keeping your Hyacinthia 
+and disporting yourselves, leaving your allies de- 
+serted ; the Athenians, for the wrong that you do 
+them and for lack of allies, will make their peace 
+with the Persian as best they can, and thereafter, 
+seeing that plainly we shall be the king's allies, we 
+will march with him against whatever land his men 
+lead us. Then will you learn what the issue of this 
+matter shall be for you." Thus spoke the envoys; 
+and the ephors swore to them that they believed 
+their army to be even now at Orestheum,? marching 
+
+
+2 Other references place Orestheum N.W. of Sparta, there- 
+fore hardly on the direct route to the Isthmus, 
+
+
+169 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τοὺς ξείνους. ξείνους γὰρ ἐκάλεον τοὺς βαρβά- 
+ρους. οἳ δὲ ὡς οὐκ εἰδότες ἐπειρώτων τὸ λεγό- 
+μενον, ἐπειρόμενοι δὲ ἐξέμαθον πᾶν τὸ ἐόν, ὥστε 
+ἐν θώματι γενόμενοι ἐπορεύοντο τὴν ταχίστην 
+διώκοντες: σὺν δέ σφι τῶν περιοίκων Λακεδαιμο- 
+νίων λογάδες πεντακισχίλιοι ὁπλῖται τὠυτὸ τοῦτο 
+ἐποίεον. 
+
+12. Οἳ μὲν δὴ ἐς τὸν Iob μὸν ἡ ἠπείγοντο" ᾿Αργεσῖι 
+δὲ ἐπείτε τάχιστ a ἐπύθοντο τοὺς μετὰ Παυσανίεω 
+ἐξεληλυθότας ἐκ Σπάρτης, πέμπουσι κήρυκα τῶν 
+ἡμεροδρόμων ἀνευρόντες τὸν ἄριστον ἐς τὴν 
+᾿Αττικήν, πρότερον αὐτοὶ Μαρδονίῳ ὑποδεξάμενοι 
+σχήσειν τὸν «Σπαρτιήτην μὴ ἐξιέναι' ὃς ἐπείτε 
+ἀπίκετο ἐς τὰς ᾿Αθήνας ἔλεγε τάδε. “ Μαρδόνιε, 
+ἔπεμψ άν µε ᾿Αργεῖοι φράσοντά τοι ὅτι ἐκ Λακε- 
+δαίμονος ἐξελήλυθε ἡ νεότης, καὶ ὡς οὐ δυνατοὶ 
+αὐτὴν ἔχειν εἰσὶ ᾿Αργεῖοι μὴ οὐκ ἐξιέναι. πρὸς 
+ταῦτα τύγχανε εὖ βουλευόμενος.” 
+
+13. Ὃ μὲν δὴ εἴπας ταῦτα ἀπαλλάσσετο 
+ὀπίσω, Μαρδόνιος δὲ οὐδαμῶς ἔτι πρόθυμος ἣν 
+μένειν ἐν τῇ ᾿Αττικῇ, ὡς ἤκουσε ταῦτα. πρὶν 
+μέν νυν 7) πυθέσθαι ἀνεκώχευε, θέλων εὐδέναι τὸ 
+παρ ᾿Αθηναίων, ὁκοῖόν τι ποιήσουσι, καὶ οὔτε 
+ἐπήμαινε οὔτε ἐσίνετο γῆν τὴν ᾿Αττικήν, ἐλπίξων 
+διὰ παντὸς τοῦ χρόνου ὁμολογήσειν σφέας" ἐπεὶ 
+δὲ οὐκ ἔπειθε, πυθόμενος πάντα λόγον, πρὶν ἢ 
+τοὺς μετὰ Παυσανίεω ἐς τὸν 'loOuóv ἐσβαλεῖν, 
+ὑπεξεχώρεε ἐμπρήσας τε τὰς ᾿Αθήνας, καὶ εἴ κού 
+τι ὀρθὸν ἣν τῶν τειχέων ἢ τῶν οἰκημάτων ἢ τῶν 
+ἱρῶν, πάντα καταβαλὼν καὶ συγχώσας. ἐξήλαυνε 
+
+
+1 Inhabitants of the country districts of Laconia, not 
+enjoying the full privileges of Spartans. 
+170 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 11-13 
+
+
+against the “ strangers,” as they called the foreigners. 
+Having no knowledge of this, the envoys questioned 
+them further as to what the tale might mean, and 
+thereby learnt the whole truth ; whereat they mar- 
+velled, and took the road with all speed after the 
+army; and with them went likewise five thousand 
+chosen men-at-arms of the Lacedaemonian country- 
+men. 
+
+12. So they made haste to reach the Isthmus. 
+But the Argives had already promised Mardonius 
+that they would hinder the Spartan from going out 
+to war; and as soon as they were informed that 
+Pausanias and his army had departed from Sparta, 
+they sent as their herald to Attica the swiftest runner 
+of long distances that they could find ; who, when 
+he came to Athens, spoke on this wise to Mardonius : 
+*] am sent by the Argives to tell you that the 
+young men have gone out from Lacedaemon to war, 
+and that the Argives cannot stay them from so 
+doing; wherefore, may fortune grant you good 
+counsel." 
+
+13. So spoke the herald, and departed back again ; 
+and when Mardonius heard that, he was no longer 
+desirous of remaining in Attica. Before he had word 
+of it, he had held his hand, desiring to know the 
+Athenians plan and what they would do, and 
+neither harmed nor harried the land of Attica, 
+for he still ever supposed that they would make 
+terms with him; but when he could not move them, 
+and learnt all the truth of the matter, he drew off 
+from before Pausanias army ere it entered the 
+Isthmus; but first he burnt Athens, and utterly 
+overthrew and demolished whatever wall or house 
+or temple was left standing. The reason of his 
+
+
+171 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δὲ τῶνδε εἴνεκεν, ὅτι οὔτε ἱππασιμη ἡ χώρη ἦν ἡ 
+, / ” ^ ΄ , / 
+Αττική, εἰ τε νικῷτο συμβαλών, ἀπάλλαξις οὐκ 
+* 
+ἦν ὅτι μὴ κατὰ στεινὀν, ὥστε ὀλίγους σφέας 
+ἀνθρώπους ἴσχειν. ἐβουλεύετο ὧν ἐπαναχωρήσας 
+A , ^ / 
+ἐς τὰς Θήβας συμβαλεῖν πρὸς πόλι τε φιλίη καὶ 
+χώρῃ ἱππασίμῳ. 
+14. Μαρδόνιος μὲν δὴ ὑπεξεχώρεε, ἤδη δὲ ἐν 
+LCS PYA 97 , ^ DAO , AŬ )6 
+τῇ ὁδῷ ἐόντι αὐτῷ ἦλθε ἀγγελίη πρόδρομον 
+»y A er 3 / / 
+ἄλλην στρατιὴν ἥκειν ἐς Méyapa, Λακεδαιμονίων 
+χιλίους: πυθόμενος δὲ ταῦτα ἐβουλεύετο θέλων 
+εἴ κως τούτους πρῶτον ἕλοι. ὑποστρέψας δὲ 
+A , 
+τὴν στρατιὴν ἦγε ἐπὶ τὰ Méyapa: ἡ δὲ ἵππος 
+προελθοῦσα κατιππάσατο χώρην τὴν Μεγαρίδα. 
+\ / ^ ^ 
+ἐς ταύτην δὴ ἑκαστάτω τῆς Εὐρώπης τὸ πρὸς 
+ἡλίου δύνοντος ἡ Περσικὴ αὕτη στρατιὴ ἀπίκετο. 
+\ ` ^ / , 5 , / 
+15. Mera δὲ ταῦτα Μαρδονίῳ ἦλθε ἀγγελίη 
+ε / ? ευ , ^ ^ 
+ὡς ἁλέες εἴησαν οἱ  EANyves ἐν τῷ ᾿Ισθμῷ. οὕτω 
+κ ο , / ` A e ^ 
+δὴ ὀπίσω ἐπορεύετο διὰ Δεκελέης' οἱ γὰρ βοιω- 
+τάρχαι μετεπέμψαντο τοὺς προσχώρους τῶν 
+᾿Ασωπίων, οὗτοι δὲ αὐτῷ τὴν ὁδὸν ἡγέοντο ἐς 
+/ 1 ^ A 3 / 7 / 
+Σφενδαλέας, ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ ἐς Τάναγραν: ἐν Tavaypn 
+δὲ νύκτα ἐναυλισάμενος, καὶ τραπόμενος τῇ ὑστε- 
+/ 3 N ^ 3 ^ ^ / ^" 9 ^ 
+pain ἐς σκῶλον ἐν γῇ τῇ Θηβαίων ἦν. ἐνθαῦτα 
+^ / 
+δὲ τῶν Θηβαίων καίπερ μηδιξόντων ἔκειρε τοὺς 
+No» ^ 
+χώρους, οὔτι κατὰ ἔχθος αὐτῶν ἀλλ᾽ ὑπ᾽ ἀναγκαίης 
+/ [4 ^ ^ 
+μεγάλης ἐχόμενος ἔρυμά τε τῷ στρατῷ ποιή- 
+θαι, καὶ ἣν συμβαλόντι οἱ μὴ ἐκβαίνη ὁκοῖό 
+σασθαι, ἣν συμ μὴ ἐκβαίνῃ ὁκοῖόν 
+7 ’ ^ > ^ 
+τι ἐθέλοι, κρησφύγετον τοῦτο ἐποιέετο. παρῆκε 
+” \ / s 
+δὲ αὐτοῦ τὸ στρατόπεδον ἀρξάμενον ἀπὸ 'EpvÜpéev 
+172 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. 13-15 
+
+
+marching away was, that Attica was no country for 
+horsemen's work, and if he should be worsted in 
+a battle there was no way of retreat save one so 
+narrow that a few men could stay his passage.! 
+Wherefore it was his plan to retreat to Thebes and 
+do battle where he had a friendly city at his back 
+and ground fitted for horsemen. 
+
+14. So Mardonius drew his men off, and when he 
+had now set forth on his road there came a message 
+that over and above the rest an advance guard of 
+a thousand Lacedaemonians was arrived at Megara; 
+at which hearing he took counsel how he might first 
+make an end of these ; and he turned about and led 
+his army against Megara, his horse going first and 
+overrunning the lands of that city. That was the 
+most westerly place in Europe to which this Persian 
+armament attained. 
+
+15. Presently there came a message to Mardonius 
+that the Greeks were gathered together on the 
+Isthmus. Thereupon he marched back again 
+through Decelea; for the rulers of Boeotia sent 
+for those of the Asopus country that dwelt near, 
+and these guided him to Sphendalae and thence to 
+Tanagra, where he camped for the night ; and on 
+the next day he turned thence to Scolus, where he 
+was in Theban territory. There he laid waste the 
+lands of the Thebans, though they took the Persian 
+part; not for any ill-will that he bore them, but 
+because sheer necessity drove him to make a strong 
+place for his army, and to have this for a refuge if 
+the fortune of battle were other than he desired. 
+His army covered the ground from Erythrae past 
+
+
+1 He would have to retreat into Boeotia by way of the 
+pass over Cithaercn. 
+
+
+173 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+παρὰ Toas, κατέτεινε δὲ ἐς τὴν Harada γῆν, 
+παρὰ τὸν ᾿Ασωπὸν ποταμὸν τεταγμένον. οὐ 
+μέντοι τό γε τεῖχος τοσοῦτο ἐποιέετο, ἆλλ᾽ ὡς 
+ἐπὶ δέκα σταδίους μάλιστά Kn μέτωπον ἕκαστον. 
+
+16. ᾿Εχόντων δὲ τὸν πόνον τοῦτον τῶν βαρ- 
+Bapov, ᾿Ατταγῖνος ὁ Φρύνωνος ἀνὴρ. Θηβαῖος 
+παρασκευασάμενος μεγάλως ἐκάλεε ἐπὶ ξείνια 
+αὐτόν τε Μαρδόνιον καὶ πεντήκοντα Περσέων 
+τοὺς λογιμωτάτους, κληθέντες δὲ οὗτοι εἴποντο' 
+ἦν δὲ το δεῖπνον ποιεύμενον ἐν Θήβησι. τάδε 
+δὲ ἤδη τὰ ἐπίλοιπα ἤκουον Θερσάνδρου ἀνδρὸς 
+μὲν Ὀρχομενίου, λογύμου δὲ ἐς τὰ πρῶτα ἐν 
+Ὀρχομενῴ. ἔφη δὲ ὁ Θέρσανδρος κληθῆναι καὶ 
+αὐτὸς ὑπὸ ᾿Ατταγίνου ἐπὶ τὸ δεῖπνον τοῦτο, Κλη- 
+θῆναι δὲ καὶ Θηβαίων ἄνδρας πεντήκοντα, καί 
+σφεων. οὐ νηὸς ἑκατέρους κλῖναι, ἀλλὰ Πέρσην 
+τε καὶ Θηβαῖον ἐν κλίνῃ ἑκάστῃ. ὡς δὲ ἀπὸ 
+δείπνου ἦσαν, διαπινόντων τὸν Πέρσην τὸν ὁμό- 
+κλινον ᾿Ελλάδα γλῶσσαν ἱέντα εἰρέσθαι αὐτὸν 
+ὁποδαπός ἐστι, αὐτὸς δὲ ὑποκρίνασθαι ὡς εἴη 
+Ὀρχομένιος. τὸν δὲ εἰπεῖν “ ᾿Επεὶ νῦν ὁμοτρά- 
+πεξός τέ μοι καὶ ὁμόσπονδος ἐγένεο, μνημόσυνά 
+τοι γνώμης τῆς ἐμῆς καταλιπέσθαι θέλω, ἵνα καὶ 
+προειδὼς αὐτὸς περὶ. σεωυτοῦ βουλεύεσθαι ἔχῃς 
+τὰ συμφέροντα. ὁρᾶς τούτους τοὺς δαινυμένους 
+Πέρσας καὶ τὸν στρατὸν τὸν ἑλίπομεν ἐπὶ τῷ 
+ποταμῷ στρατοπεδευόμενον' τούτων πάντων 
+ὄψεαι ὀλίγου τινὸς χρόνου διελθόντος ὀλίγους 
+τινὰς τοὺς περιγενομένους. ταῦτα ἅμα τε τὸν 
+Πέρσην λέγειν καὶ μετιέναι πολλὰ τῶν δακρύων. 
+αὐτὸς δὲ θωμάσας τὸν λόγον εἰπεῖν πρὸς αὐτὸν 
+“Οὐκῶν Μαρδονίῳ τε ταῦτα χρεόν ἐστι λέγειν 
+174 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 15-16 
+
+
+Hysiae and reached unto the lands of Platacae, 
+where it lay ranked by the Asopus river. I say 
+not that the walled camp which he made was so 
+great; each side of it was of a length of about ten 
+furlongs. 
+
+16. While the foreigners were employed about 
+this work, Attaginus son of Phrynon, a Theban, 
+made great preparation and invited Mardonius with 
+fifty who were the most notable of the Persians to 
+be his guests at a banquet. They came as they 
+were bidden; the dinner was given at Thebes. 
+Now here follows the end of that matter, which was 
+told me by Thersandrus of Orchomenus, one of the 
+most notable men of that place. Thersandrus too 
+(he said) was bidden to this dinner, and fifty 
+Thebans besides; and Attaginus made them sit, 
+not each man by himself, but on each couch a 
+Persian and a Theban together. Now after dinner 
+while they drank one with another, the Persian 
+that sat with him asked Thersandrus in the Greek 
+tongue of what country he was; and Thersandrus 
+answered that he was of Orchomenus. Then said 
+the Persian: “Since now you have eaten at the 
+board with me and drunk with me thereafter, I 
+would fain leave some record of my thought, that 
+you yourself may have such knowledge as to take 
+fitting counsel for your safety. See you these 
+Persians at the banquet, and that host which we 
+left encamped by the river side? of all these in a 
+little while you shall see but a little remnant left 
+alive"; and as he said this, the Persian wept 
+bitterly. Marvelling at this saying, Thersandrus 
+answered: “ Must you not then tell this to Mardonius 
+
+
+175 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+καὶ τοῖσι μετ᾽ ἐκεῖνον ἐν αἴνῃ ἐοῦσι Περσέων ; " 
+τὸν δὲ μετὰ ταῦτα εἰπεῖν “ Ξεῖνε, 6 τι δεῖ γενέσθαι 
+ἐκ τοῦ θεοῦ ἀμήχανον ἀποτρέψαι ἀνθρώπῳ' οὐδὲ 
+γὰρ πιστὰ λέγουσι ἐθέλει πείθεσθαι οὐδείς. 
+ταῦτα δὲ Περσέων συχνοὶ ἐπιστάμενοι ἑπόμεθα 
+ἀναγκαίῃ ἐνδεδεμένοι, ἐχθίστη δὲ ὀδύνη ἐστὶ τῶν 
+ἐν ἀνθρώποισι αὕτη, πολλὰ φρονέοντα μηδενὸς 
+κρατέειν.᾽ ταῦτα μὲν Ὀρχομενίου Θερσάνδρου 
+ἤκουον, καὶ τάδε πρὸς τούτοισι, ὡς αὐτὸς αὐτίκα 
+λέγοι ταῦτα πρὸς ἀνθρώπους πρότερον ἢ γενέσθαι 
+ἐν Πλαταιῆσι τὴν μάχην. 
+
+Late Μαρδονίου δὲ ἐν τῇ Ῥοιωτίῃ στρατοπεδευο- 
+μένου οἱ μὲν ἄλλοι παρείχοντο ἅπαντες στρατιὴν 
+καὶ συνεσέβαλον ἐς ᾿Αθήνας, ὅσοι περ ἐμήδιξον 
+Ἑλλήνων τῶν ταύτῃ οἰκημένων, μοῦνοι δὲ Φωκέες 
+οὐ συνεσέβαλον (ἐμήδιζον γὰρ δὴ σφόδρα, καὶ 
+οὗτοι) οὐκ ἑκόντες ἀλλ᾽ ὑπ ἀναγκαίης. ἡμέρῃσι 
+δὲ οὐ πολλῆσι μετὰ τὴν ἄπιξιν τὴν ἐς Θήβας 
+ὕστερον. ἦλθον αὐτῶν ὁπλῖται χίλιοι, ἦγε δὲ 
+αὐτοὺς ‘A ppoxvdns ἀνὴρ τῶν ἀστῶν δοκιμώτατος. 
+ἐπεὶ δὲ ἀπίκατο καὶ οὗτοι ἐς Θήβας, πέμψας ὁ 
+Μαρδόνιος ἱ ἱππέας ἐκέλευσε σφέας em ἑωυτῶν ἐν 
+τῷ πεδίῳ ἵξεσθαι. ἐπεὶ δὲ ἐποίησαν ταῦτα, 
+αὐτίκα παρῆν ἵππος ἡ ἅπασα. μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα 
+διεξῆλθε μὲν διὰ τοῦ στρατοπέδου τοῦ “Ἑλληνικοῦ 
+τοῦ μετὰ Μήδων ἐόντος φήμη ὡς κατακοντιεῖ 
+σφεας, διεξῆλθε δὲ δι αὐτῶν Φωκέων τὠυτὸ 
+τοῦτο. ἔνθα δή σφι ὁ στρατηγὸς ᾿Αρμοκύδης 
+παραΐνεε λέγων τοιάδε. “O Φωκέες, πρόδηλα 
+γὰρ ὅτι ἡμέας οὗτοι οἱ ἄνθρωποι μέλλουσι προ- 
+ὁπτω θανάτῳ δώσειν, διαβεβλημένους ὑπὸ Θεσ- 
+σαλῶν, ὡς ἐγὼ εἰκάζω: νῦν ἄνδρα πάντα τινὰ 
+176 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. 16-17 
+
+
+and those honourable Persians that are with him?" 
+* Sir," said the Persian, “that which heaven wills 
+to send no man can turn aside ; for even truth finds 
+none to believe it. What I have said is known to 
+many of us Persians; but we follow, in the bonds 
+of necessity. And it is the hatefulest of all human 
+sorrows to have much knowledge and no power." 
+This tale I heard from Thersandrus of Orchomenus ; 
+who said to me, moreover, that he had straightway 
+told it to others before the fight of Plataeae. 
+
+17. So Mardonius was making his encampment in 
+Boeotia ; all the Greeks of that region who took the 
+Persian part furnished fighting men, and they joined 
+with him in his attack upon Athens, except only 
+the Phocians: as to taking the Persian part, that 
+they did in good sooth, albeit not willingly but of 
+uecessity. But when a few days were past after the 
+Persians' coming to Thebes, there came a thousand 
+Phocian men-at-arms, led by Harmocydes, the most 
+notable of their countrymen, These also being 
+arrived at Thebes, Mardonius sent horsemen and 
+bade the Phocians take their station on the plain 
+by themselves, When they had so done, straight- 
+way appeared the whole of the Persian cavalry; 
+and presently it was bruited abovt through all the 
+Greek army that was with Mardonius, and likewise 
+among the Phocians themselves, that Mardonius 
+would shoot them to death. Then their general 
+Harmocydes exhorted them: ** Men of Phocis," he 
+said, * seeing it is plain that death at these fellows' 
+hands stares us in the face (we being, as I surmise, 
+maligned by the Thessalians); now it is meet for 
+
+
+177 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὕμεων χρεον ἐστι γενεσθαι ἀγαθόν' κρέσσον yap 
+ποιεῦντάς τι καὶ ἀμυνομένους τελευτῆσαι. τὸν 
+αἰῶνα 7 περ παρέχοντας διαφθαρῆναι, αἰσχίστῳ 
+μόρῳ. ἀλλὰ μαθέτω τις αὐτῶν ὅτι ἐόντες Bdp- 
+Bapor ἐπ᾽ Ἕλλησι ἀνδράσι φόνον ἔρραψαν." 
+
+18. Ὃ μὲν ταῦτα παραίνεε' οἱ δὲ ἱππέες 
+ἐπεί σφεας ἐκυκλώσαντο, ἐπήλαυνον ὡς ἀπο- 
+λέοντες, καὶ δὴ διετείνοντο τὰ βέλεα ὡς ἀπη- 
+σοντες, καί κού τις καὶ ἀπῆκε. καὶ οἳ 
+ἀντίοι ἔστησαν πάντῃ συστρέψαντες ἑωυτοὺς 
+καὶ πυκνώσαντες ὡς μάλιστα. ἐνθαῦτα οἱ ἱπ- 
+πόται ὑπέστρεφον καὶ ἀπήλαυνον ὀπίσω. οὐκ 
+ἔχω Ò ἀτρεκέως εἰπεῖν οὔτε εἰ ἦλθον μὲν aro- 
+λέοντες τοὺς Φωκέας δεηθέντων Θεσσαλῶν, ἐπεὶ 
+δὲ ὥρων πρὸς ἀλέξησιν τραπομένους, δείσαντες 
+μὴ καὶ σφίσι γένηται τρώματα, οὕτω δὴ ἀπή- 
+λαυνον ὁ ὀπίσω" ὣς γάρ σφι ἐνετείλατο Μαρδόνιος" 
+OUT εἰ αὐτῶν πειρηθῆναι ἠθέλησε εἴ τί ἀλκῆς 
+
+μετέχουσι. ὡς δὲ ὀπίσω ἀπήλασαι' οἱ ἱππόται, 
+πέμψας Μαρδόνιος κήρυκα ἔλεγε τάδε. “Θαρ- 
+σέετε ὦ Φωκέες: ἄνδρες γὰρ ἐφάνητε ἐόντες ἆγα- 
+θοί, οὐκ ὡς ἐγὼ ἐπυνθανόμην. καὶ νῦν προθύμως 
+φέρετε τὸν πόλεμον τοῦτον" εὐεργεσίῃσι γὰρ οὗ 
+νικήσετε οὔτ᾽ ὧν ἐμὲ οὔτε, βασιλέα. τὰ περὶ 
+Φωκέων μὲν ἐς τοσοῦτο ἐγένετο. 
+
+19. Λακεδαιμόνιοι δὲ ὡς ἐς τὸν ᾿Ισθμὸν ἦλθον, 
+ἐν τούτῳ ἐστρατοπεδεύοντο. πυνθανόμενοι δὲ 
+ταῦτα οἱ λοιποὶ Πελοποννήσιοι τοῖσι τὰ ἀμείνω 
+ἑάνδανε, οἳ δὲ καὶ ὁρῶντες ἐξιόντας Σπαρτιήτας, 
+οὐκ ἐδικαίευν λείπεσθαι τῆς ἐξόδου Λακεδαι- 
+μονίων. ἐκ δὴ ὧν τοῦ Ἰσθμοῦ καλλιερησάντων 
+
+
+178 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. r7-19 
+
+
+every one of you to play the man; for it is better to 
+end our lives in action and fighting than tamely to 
+suffer a shameful death. Nay, but we will teach 
+them that they whose slaying they have devised are 
+men of Hellas.” Thus he exhorted them. 
+
+18. But when the horsemen had encircled the 
+Phocians they rode at them as it were to slay 
+them, and drew their bows to shoot, and 'tis 
+like that some did even shoot. The Phocians 
+fronted them every way, drawing in together and 
+closing their ranks to the best of their power ; 
+whereat the horsemen wheeled about and rode back 
+and away. Now I cannot with exactness say if they 
+came at the Thessalians’ desire to slay the Phocians, 
+but, when they saw the men preparing to defend 
+themselves, feared lest they themselves should suffer 
+some hurt, and so rode away back (for such was 
+Mardonius command),—or if Mardonius desired to 
+test the Phocians’ mettle. But when the horsemen 
+had ridden away, Mardonius sent a herald, with this 
+message: “ Men of Phocis, be of good courage; for 
+you have shown yourselves to be valiant men, and 
+not as it was reported to me. And now push this 
+war zealously forward; for you will outdo neither 
+myself nor the king in the rendering of service." ! 
+Thus far went the Phocian business. 
+
+19. As for the Lacedaemonians, when they were 
+come to the Isthmus, they encamped there. When 
+the rest of the Peloponnesians who chose the better 
+cause heard that, seeing the Spartans setting forth 
+to war, they deemed it was not for them to be 
+behind the Lacedaemonians in so doing. Wherefore 
+they all marched from the Isthmus (the omens of 
+
+
+1 That is, serve us and we will serve you. 
+
+
+179 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τῶν ἱρῶν ἐπορεύοντο πάντες καὶ ἀπικνέονται ἐς 
+δει ^ 4 \ Ν » ^ e / e 
+làXeveiva: ποιήσαντες δὲ καὶ ἐνθαῦτα ἱρά, ὥς 
+3 / b , , ΄ 3 - 
+σφι ἐκαλλιέρεε, τὸ πρόσω ἐπορεύοντο, ᾿Αθηναῖοι 
+δὲ ἅμα αὐτοῖσι, διαβάντες μὲν ἐκ Σαλαμῖνος, 
+συμμιγέντες δὲ ἐν ᾿Ελευσῖνι. ὡς δὲ ἄρα ἀπίκοντο 
+^ ’ » , 7 » ’ N \ 
+τῆς Ποιωτίης ἐς ᾿Ερυθράς, ἔμαθόν τε δὴ τοὺς 
+^ ^ / 
+βαρβάρους ἐπὶ τῷ ᾿Ασωπῷ στρατοπεδευοµένους, 
+φρασθέντες δὲ τοῦτο ἀντετάσσοντο ἐπὶ τῆς 
+ὑπωρέης τοῦ Κιθαιρῶνος. 
+’ / 
+
+20. Μαρδόνιος δέ, ὡς οὐ κατέβαινον οἱ ^ EXXqgves 
+, ^ {ή 
+ἐς τὸ πεδίον, πέμπει ἐς αὐτοὺς πᾶσαν τὴν ἵππον, 
+τῆς ἱππάρχεε Μασίστιος εὐδοκιμέων Tapa Πέρ- 
+σῃσι, τὸν Ἵδλληνες Μακίστιον καλέουσι, ἵππον 
+ἔχων Νησαῖον χρυσοχάλινον͵ καὶ ἄλλως κεκο- 
+σμημένον καλῶς, ἐνθαῦτα ὡς προσήλασαν οἱ 
+ἱππόται πρὸς τοὺς "Έλληνας, προσέβαλλον κατὰ 
+τέλεα, προσβάλλοντες δὲ κακὰ μεγάλα ἐργάζοντο 
+καὶ γυναῖκας σφέας ἀπεκάλεον. 
+
+21. Κατὰ συντυχίην δὲ Μεγαρέες ἔτυχον τα- 
+χθέντες τῇ T€ ἐπιμαχώτατον ἦν τοῦ χωρίου 
+
+7 
+
+παντός, καὶ πρόσοδος μάλιστα ταύτῃ ἐγίνετο τῇ 
+"y , 4 ^ e" e 
+ἵππῳ. προσβαλλούσης ὧν τῆς ἵππου οἱ Μεγα- 
+ρέες πιεζόμενοι è ἔπεμπον ἐπὶ τοὺς στρατηγοὺς τῶν 
+Ἑλλήνων κήρυκα, ἀπικόμενος δὲ ὁ κῆρυξ πρὸς 
+αὐτοὺς ἔλεγε Tade Meyapées λέγουσι: ἡμεῖς, 
+ἄνδρες σύμμαχοι, οὐ δυνατοί εἰμεν τὴν Περσέων 
+ἵππον δέκεσθαι μοῦνοι, ἔχοντες στάσιν ταύτην 
+ἐς τὴν ἔστημεν ἀρχήν' ἀλλὰ καὶ ἐς τόδε λιπαρίῃ 
+τε καὶ ἀρετῇ ἀντέχομεν καίπερ πιεζόμενοι. νῦν 
+τε εἰ μή τινας ἄλλους πέμψετε διαδόχους τῆς 
+
+΄ 5 ΄ / , ΄ à ΄ 3» ^ 
+τάξιος, ἴστε ἡμέας ἐκλείψοντας τὴν Tráfw." ὃ 
+` ΄ ^ 3 ’ ’ N > 
+μὲν δή σφι ταῦτα ἀπήγγελλε, Παυσανίης δὲ are- 
+180 
+
+
+BOOK IX. το-2ι 
+
+
+sacrifice being favourable) and came to Eleusis ; and 
+when they had offered sacrifice there also and the 
+omens were favourable, they held on their march 
+further, having now the Athenians with them, who 
+had crossed over from Salamis and joined with them 
+at Eleusis. When they came (as it is said) to 
+Erythrae in Boeotia, they learnt that the foreigners 
+were encamped by the Asopus, and taking note of 
+that they arrayed themselves over against the enemy 
+on the lower hills of Cithaeron. 
+
+20. The Greeks not coming down into the plain, 
+Mardonius sent against them all his horse, whose 
+commander was Masistius (whom the Greeks call 
+Macistius) a man much honoured among the 
+Persians; he rode a Nesaean horse that had a golden 
+bit and was at all points gaily adorned. Thereupon 
+the horsemen rode up to the Greeks and charged 
+them by squadrons, doing them much hurt thereby 
+and calling them women, 
+
+21. Now it chanced that the Megarians were 
+posted in that part of the field which was openest 
+to attack, and here the horsemen found the readiest 
+approach. Wherefore, being hard pressed by the 
+charges, the Megarians sent a herald to the generals 
+of the Greeks, who came to them and thus spoke : 
+* From the men of Megara to their allies: We cannot 
+alone withstand the Persian horse (albeit we have 
+till now held our ground with patience and valour, 
+though hard pressed) in this post whereunto we were 
+first appointed; and now be well assured that we 
+will leave our post, except you send others to take 
+our place therein," Thus the herald reported, and 
+
+
+1891 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+πειρᾶτο τῶν Ελλήνων εἴ τινες ἐθέλοιεν ἄλλοι 
+ἐθελονταὶ ἰέναι τε ἐς τὸν χῶρον τοῦτον καὶ τάσ- 
+σεσθαι διάδοχοι Μεγαρεῦσι. οὐ βουλομένων δὲ 
+τῶν ἄλλων ᾿Αθηναῖοι ὑπεδέξαντο καὶ ᾿Αθηναίων 
+οἱ τριηκόσιοι λογάδες, τῶν ἐλοχήγεε Ὀλυμπιόδωρος 
+ὁ Λάμπωνος. 
+
+99. Οὗτοι ἦσαν ot τε ὑποδεξάμενοι καὶ οἱ πρὸ 
+τῶν ἄλλων τῶν παρεόντων Ἑλλήνων ἐς ᾿Ερυθρὰς 
+ταχθέντες, τοὺς τοξότας προσελόµενοι. μαχομένων 
+δὲ σφέων ἐπὶ χρόνον τέλος τοιόνδε ἐγένετο. τῆς 
+μάχης. προσβαλλούσης τῆς ἵππου κατὰ τέλεα, 
+ὁ Μασιστίου προέχων τῶν ἄλλων ἵππος βάλλεται 
+τοξεύματι τὰ πλευρά, ἀλγήσας δὲ ἵσταταί τε 
+ὀρθὸς καὶ ἀποσείεται τὸν Μασίστιον: πεσόντι 
+δὲ αὐτῷ οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι αὐτίκα ἐπεκέατο. τόν τε 
+δὴ ἵππον αὐτοῦ λαμβάνουσι καὶ αὐτὸν ἀμυνόμενον 
+κτείνουσι, κατ᾽ ᾿ ἀρχὰς οὐ δυνάμενοι. ἐνεσκεύαστο 
+γὰρ οὕτω: ἐντὸς θώρηκα εἶχε χρύσεον λεπιδωτόν, 
+κατύπερθε δὲ τοῦ θώρηκος κιθῶνα φοινίκεον 
+ἐνεδεδύκεε. τύπτοντες δὲ ἐς τὸν θώρηκα ἐ ἐποίευν 
+οὐδέν, πρίν rye δὴ μαθών. τις τὸ ποιεύμενον παίει 
+μιν ἐς τὸν ὀφθαλμόν. οὕτω δὴ ἔπεσέ τε καὶ ἀπέ- 
+θανε. ταῦτα δέ Κως γινόμενα ἐλελήθεε τοὺς 
+ἄλλους ἱππέας" οὔτε γὰρ πεσόντα μιν εἶδον ἀπὸ 
+τοῦ ἵππου οὔτε ἀποθνήσκοντα, ἀναχωρήσιός Τε 
+γινομένης καὶ ὑποστροφῆς οὐκ ἔμαθον τὸ γινό- 
+µενον. ἐπείτε δὲ ἔστησαν, αὐτίκα ἐπόθεσαν, ὥς 
+σφεας οὐδεὶς ἦν ὁ τάσσων μαθόντες δὲ τὸ γεγονός, 
+διακελευσάμενοι ἤλαυνον τοὺς ἵππους πάντες, ὡς 
+ἂν τὸν νεκρὸν ἀνελοίατο. 
+
+23. ᾿[δόντες δὲ οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι οὐκέτι κατὰ τέλεα 
+
+
+΄ \ e / 2 \ , M 
+προσελαύνοντας TOUS ιππέας ἄλλα πάντας, τὴν 
+182 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. 21-23 
+
+
+Pausanias inquired among the Greeks if any would 
+offer themselves to go to that place and relieve the 
+Megarians by holding the post. None other would 
+go; but the Athenians took it upon themselves, 
+even three hundred picked men of Athens, whose 
+captain was Olympiodorus son of Lampon. 
+
+22. These were they who took it upon themselves, 
+and were posted at Erythrae in advance of the 
+whole Greek army; and they took with them the 
+archers also. For a long time they fought; and 
+the end of the battle was as I shall show. The 
+horsemen charged by squadrons; and Masistius’ 
+horse, being at the head of the rest, was smitten 
+in the side by an arrow, and rearing up in its pain 
+it threw Masistius ; who when he fell was straight- 
+way set upon by the Athenians. His horse they 
+took then and there, and he himself was slain 
+fighting, though at first they could not kill him; 
+for the fashion of his armour was such, that he wore 
+a purple tunic over a cuirass of golden scales that 
+was within it; and it was all in vain that they smote 
+at the cuirass, till someone saw what they did and 
+stabbed him in the eye, so that he fell dead. But 
+as chance would have it the rest of the horsemen 
+knew nought of this; for they had not seen him 
+fail from his horse, or die; and they wheeled about 
+and rode back without perceiving what was done. 
+But as soon as they halted they saw what they 
+lacked, since there was none to order them ; and 
+when they perceived what had chanced, they gave 
+each other the word, and all rode together to 
+recover the dead body. 
+
+23. When the Athenians saw the horsemen riding 
+at them, not by squadrons as before, but all together, 
+
+
+183 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἄλλην στρατιὴν ἐπεβώσαντο. ἐν ὦ δὲ ὁ πεξὸς 
+ἅπας ἐβοήθεε, ἐν τούτῳ μάχη ὀξέα περὶ τοῦ 
+νεκροῦ γίνεται. ἕως μέν νυν μοῦνοι ἦσαν οἱ τρύη- 
+κόσιοι, ἑσσοῦντό τε πολλὸν καὶ τὸν νεκρὸν ἀπέ- 
+λειπον: ὡς δέ σφι τὸ πλῆθος ἐπεβοήθησε, οὕτω 
+δὴ οὐκέτι οἱ ἱππόται ὑπέμενον οὐδέ σφι ἐξεγένετο 
+τὸν νεκρὸν ἀνελέσθαι, ἀλλὰ πρὸς ἐκείνῳ ἄλλους 
+προσαπώλεσαν τῶν ἱππέων. ἀποστήσαντες ὧν 
+ὅσον τε δύο στάδια ἐβουλεύοντο ὅ τι χρεὸν. εἴη 
+ποιέειγ' ἐδόκεε δέ σφι ἀναρχίης ἐούσης ἀπελαύνειν 
+παρὰ Μαρδόνιον. 
+
+24. ᾽Απικομένης δὲ τῆς ἵππου ἐς τὸ στρατόπεδον 
+πένθος ἐποιήσαντο Μασιστίου πᾶσά τε ἡ στρατιὴ 
+καὶ Μαρδόνιος μέγιστον, σφέας τε αὐτοὺς κείροντες 
+καὶ τοὺς ἵππους καὶ τὰ ὑποξύγια οἰμωγῇ τε χρεώ- 
+μενοι ἀπλέτῳ' ἅπασαν γὰρ τὴν Βοιωτίην κατεῖχε 
+ἠχὼ ὡς ἀνδρὸς ἀπολομένου μετά γε Μαρδόνιον 
+λογιμωτάτου παρά τε Πέρσῃσι καὶ βασιλέι, 
+
+25. O; μέν νυν βάρβαροι τρόπῳ τῷ σφετέρῳ 
+ἀποθανόντα ἐτίμων Μασίστιον: οἱ δὲ Ἕλληνες 
+ὡς τὴν ἵππον ἐδέξαντο προσβάλλουσαν καὶ δεξά- 
+μενοι ὥσαντο, ἐθάρσησάν τε TONNO μᾶλλον καὶ 
+πρῶτα μὲν ἐς ἅμαξαν ἐσθέντες τὸν νεκρὸν παρὰ 
+τὰς τάξις ἐκόμιζον' ὁ δὲ νεκρὸς ἦν θέης ἄξιος 
+μεγάθεος εἵνεκα καὶ κάλλεος, τῶν δὴ εἵνεκα καὶ 
+ταῦτα ἐποίευν: ἐκλείποντες τὰς τάξις ἐφοίτων 
+θεησόμενοι Μασίστιον. μετὰ δὲ ἔδοξέ σφι ἐπι- 
+καταβῆναι ἐς ΙΙλαταιάς' ὁ γὰρ χῶρος ἐφαίνετο 
+πολλῷ ἐὼν ἐπιτηδεότερός σφι ἐνστρατοπεδεύεσθαι 
+ὁ Πλαταιικὸς τοῦ ᾿Ερυθραίου τά τε ἄλλα καὶ 
+εὐνδρότερος. ἐς τοῦτον δὴ τὸν χῶρον καὶ ἐπὶ 
+τὴν κρήνην τὴν Γαργαφίην τὴν ἐν τῷ χώρῳ τούτῳ 
+184 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 23-25 
+
+
+they cried to the rest of the army for help. While 
+all their foot was rallying to aid, there waxed a 
+sharp fight over the dead body. As long as the 
+three hundred stood alone, they had the worst of 
+the battle by far, and were nigh leaving the dead 
+man ; but when the main body came to their aid, 
+then it was the horsemen that could no longer hold 
+their ground, nor avail to recover the dead man, 
+but they lost others of their comrades too besides 
+Masistius. They drew off therefore and halted 
+about two furlongs off, where they consulted what 
+they should do ; and resolved, as there was none to 
+lead them, to ride away to Mardonius. 
+
+24. When the cavalry returned to the camp, 
+Mardonius and all the army made very great mourn- 
+ing for Masistius, cutting their own hair and the hair 
+of their horses and beasts of burden, and lamenting 
+loud and long ; for the sound of it was heard over 
+all Boeotia, inasmuch as a man was dead who was 
+next to Mardonius most esteemed by all Persia and 
+the king. 
+
+25. So the foreigners honoured Masistius’ death 
+after their manner; but the Greeks were much 
+heartened by their withstanding and repelling of 
+the horsemen. And first they laid the dead man 
+on a cart and carried him about their ranks; and 
+the body was worth the viewing, for stature and 
+goodliness; wherefore they would even leave their 
+ranks and come to view Masistius. Presently they 
+resolved that they would march down to Plataeae; 
+for they saw that the ground there was in all ways 
+fitter by much for encampment than at Erythrae, 
+and chiefly because it was better watered. To this 
+place, and to the Gargaphian spring that was there, 
+
+
+185 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐοῦσαν ἔδοξέ σφι χρεὸν εἶναι ἀπικέσθαι καὶ 
+διαταχθέντας στρατοπεδεύεσθαι. ἀναλαβόντες 
+δὲ τὰ ὅπλα ἤισαν διὰ τῆς ὑπωρέης τοῦ Κιθαιρῶνος 
+παρὰ Ὑσιὰς ἐς τὴν Πλαταιίδα γῆν, ἀπικόμενοι 
+δὲ ἐτάσσοντο κατὰ ἔθνεα πλησίον τῆς τε κρήνης 
+τῆς Γαργαφίης καὶ τοῦ τεμένεος τοῦ ᾿Ανδρο- 
+κράτεος τοῦ ἥρωος, διὰ ὄχθων τε οὐκ ὑψηλῶν 
+καὶ ἀπέδου χώρου. 
+
+26. ᾿Ενθαῦτα ἐν τῇ διατάξι ἐγένετο λόγων 
+πολλῶν ὠθισμὸς Τεγεητέων τε καὶ ᾿Αθηναίων 
+ἐδικαίευν γὰρ αὐτοὶ ἑκάτεροι ἔχειν τὸ ἕτερον 
+κέρας, καὶ καινὰ καὶ παλαιὰ παραφέροντες ἐ ἔργα. 
+τοῦτο μὲν οἱ Τεγεῆται ἔλεγον τάδε. “ Ἡμεῖς αἰεί 
+κοτε ἀξιεύμεθα ταύτης τῆς τάξιος ἐκ τῶν συμ- 
+μάχων ἁπάντων, ὅσαι ἤδη ἔξοδοι κοιναὶ -ἐγένοντο 
+Πελοποννησίοισι καὶ τὸ παλαιὸν καὶ τὸ νέον, ἐξ 
+ἐκείνου τοῦ χρόνου ἐπείτε “Ἡρακλεῖδαι ἐπειρῶντο 
+μετὰ τὸν Εὐρυσθέος θάνατον κατιόντες ἐς Πελο- 
+πὀννησον' τότε εὑρόμεθα τοῦτο διὰ πρῆγμα 
+τοιόνδε. ἐπεὶ μετὰ ᾿Αχαιῶν καὶ Ιώνων τῶν 
+τότε ἐόντων ἐν Πελοποννήσῳ ἐκβοηθήσαντες ἐς 
+τὸν ᾿Ισθμὸν ἱζόμεθα ἀντίοι τοῖσι κατιοῦσι, τότε 
+ὧν λόγος "Ύλλον ἀγορεύσασθαι ὡς χρεὸν εἴη τὸν 
+μὲν στρατὸν τῷ στρατῷ μὴ ἀνακινδυνεύειν συμ- 
+βάλλοντα, € ἐκ δὲ τοῦ Πελοποννησίου στρατοπέδου 
+τὸν ἂν σφέων. αὐτῶν κρίνωσι εἶναι ἄριστον, τοῦτον 
+οἱ -μουνομαχῆσαι ἐπὶ διακειμένοισι. ἔδοξέ τε 
+τοῖσι Πελοποννησίοισι ταῦτα εἶναι ποιητέα καὶ 
+ἔταμον ὅρκιον ἐπὶ λόγω τοιῷδε, ἦν μὲν “Ύλλος 
+νικήσῃ τὸν Πελοποννησίων ἡγεμόνα, κατιέναι 
+“Ἡρακλείδας ἐπὶ τὰ πατρώια, ἣν δὲ νικηθῆ, τὰ 
+
+
+186 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 25-26 
+
+
+they resolved that they must betake themselves and 
+encamp in their several battalions ; and they took 
+up their arms and marched along the lower slopes 
+of Cithaeron past Hysiae to the lands of Plataeae, 
+and when they were there they arrayed themselves 
+nation by nation near the Gargaphian spring and 
+the precinct of the hero Androcrates, among low 
+hills and in a level country. 
+
+26. There, in the ordering of their battle, arose 
+much dispute between the Tegeans and the Athe- 
+nians; for each of them claimed that they should 
+hold the second ! wing of the army, justifying them- 
+selves by tales of deeds new and old. First said the 
+Tegeans: “Of all the allies we have ever had the 
+right to hold this post, in all campaigns ancient and 
+late of the united Peloponnesian armies, ever since 
+that time when the Heraclidae after Eurystheus' 
+death essayed to return into the Peloponnese; that 
+right we then gained, for the achievement which we 
+will relate. When we mustered at the Isthmus for 
+war, along with the Achaeans and Ionians who then 
+dwelt in the Peloponnese, and encamped over against 
+the returning exiles, then (it is said) Hyllus? pro- 
+claimed his counsel that army should not be risked 
+against army in battle, but that that champion in 
+the host of the Peloponnesians whom they chose for 
+their best should fight with him in single combat on 
+agreed conditions. The Peloponnesians resolving 
+that this should be so, they swore a compact that if 
+Hyllus should vanquish the Peloponnesian champion, 
+the Heraclidae should return to the land of their 
+fathers, but if he were himself vanquished, then 
+
+
+1 That is, the wing which was not held by the Lacedaemon- 
+ians themselves. 2 Son of Heracles. 
+
+
+187 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἔμπαλιν Ἡρακλείδας ἀπαλλάσσεσθαι καὶ ἀπάγειν 
+τὴν στρατιὴν ἑκατὸν τε ἐτέων μὴ ζητῆσαι κάτοδον 
+ἐς Πελοπόννησον. προεκρίθη τε δὴ ἐκ πάντων 
+τῶν συμμάχων ἐθελοντὴς Ἔχεμος ὁ ᾿Ηερόπου 
+τοῦ Φηγέος στρατηγός ͵ τε ἐὼν καὶ βασιλεὺς 
+ἡμέτερος, καὶ ἐμουνομάχησέ τε καὶ ἀπέκτεινε 
+"Ύλλον, ἐκ τούτου τοῦ ἔργου εὑρόμεθα é ἐν 1]ελο- 
+ποννησίοισί γε τοῖσι τότε καὶ ἄλλα γέρεα μεγάλα, 
+τὰ διατελέομεν ἔχοντες, καὶ τοῦ κέρεος τοῦ ἑτέρου 
+αἰεὶ ἡγεμονεύειν κοινῆς ἐξόδου γινομένης. ὑμῖν 
+μέν νυν ὦ Λακεδαιμόνιοι οὐκ ἀντιεύμεθα, ἀλλὰ 
+διδόντες αἵρεσιν ὁκοτέρου βούλεσθε κέρεος ἄρχειν 
+παρίεμεν" τοῦ δὲ ἑτέρου φαμὲν ἡμέας ἱκνέεσθαι 
+ἡγεμονεύειν κατά περ ἐν τῷ πρόσθε χρόνῳ. χωρίς 
+τε τούτου τοῦ ἀπηγημένου ἔργου. ἀξιονικότερα 
+εἰμὲν ᾿Αθηναίων ταύτην τὴν τάξιν ἔχειν. πολλοὶ 
+μὲν γὰρ καὶ εὖ ἔχοντες προς ὑμέας ἡμῖν, ἄνδρες 
+Σπαρτιῆται, ἀγῶνες ἀγωνίδαται, πολλοὶ δὲ καὶ 
+πρὸς ἄλλους. οὕτω ὧν δίκαιον ἡμέας ἔχειν τὸ 
+ἕτερον κέρας ἤ περ ᾿Αθηναίους οὐ γάρ σφι ἐστὶ 
+ἔργα οἷά περ ἡμῖν κατεργασμένα, OUT ὧν καινὰ 
+οὔτε παλαιά.” 
+
+21. Οἳ μὲν ταῦτα ἔλεγον, ᾿Αθηναῖοι δὲ πρὸς 
+ταῦτα ὑπεκρίναντο τάδε. “Επιστάμεθα μὲν σύν- 
+οδον τήνδε μάχης εἵνεκα συλλεγῆναι, πρὸς τὸν 
+βάρβαρον, ἀλλ᾽ οὐ λόγων: ἐπεὶ δὲ o Τεγεήτης 
+προέθηκε παλαιὰ καὶ καινὰ λέγειν τὰ ἑκατέροισι 
+ἐν τῷ παντὶ χρόνῳ κατέργασται, χρηστά, ἀναγ- 
+καίως ἡμῖν ἔχει δηλῶσαι πρὸς ὑμέας ὅθεν ἡμῖν 
+πατρώιον ἐστὶ ἐοῦσι χρηστοῖσι αἰεὶ πρώτοισι 
+εἶναι μᾶλλον ἡ À ᾿Αρκάσι. “Ἡρακλείδας, τῶν οὗτοι 
+
+
+φασὶ ἀποκτεῖναι τὸν ἡγεμόνα ἐν ᾿Ισθμῷ, τοῦτο 
+188 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. 26-27 
+
+
+contrariwise the Heraclidae should depart and lead 
+their army away, and not seek to return to the 
+Peloponnese till a hundred years were past. Then 
+our general and king Echemus, son of Phegeus' son 
+Eéropus, offered himself and was chosen out of all 
+the allied host; and he fought that duel and slew 
+Hyllus. For that feat of arms the Peloponnesians 
+of that day granted us this also among other great 
+privileges which we have never ceased to possess, 
+that in all united campaigns we should ever lead 
+the army's second wing. Now with you, men of 
+Lacedaemon, we have no rivalry, but forbear and bid 
+you choose the command of whichever wing you will ; 
+but this we say, that our place is at the head of the 
+other,as everaforetime. And setting aside that feat 
+which we have related, we are worthier than the 
+Athenians to hold that post; for many are the fields 
+on which we have fought with happy event in regard 
+to you, men of Lacedaemon, and others besides. It 
+is just, therefore, that we and not the Athenians 
+should hold the second wing; for never early or late 
+have they achieved such feats of arms as we." 
+
+27. Thus they spoke; and thus the Athenians 
+replied : * It is our belief that we are here gathered 
+in concourse for battle with the foreigner, and not 
+for discourses ; but since the man of Tegea has made 
+it his business to speak of all the valorous deeds, old 
+and new, which either of our nations has at any time 
+achieved, needs must that we prove to you how we, 
+rather than Arcadians, have in virtue of our valour 
+an hereditary right to the place of honour. These 
+Tegeans say that they slew the leader of the Hera- 
+clidae at the Isthmus; now when those same Hera- 
+
+
+189 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μὲν τούτους, πρότερον ἐξελαυνομένους ὑπὸ πάντων 
+Ἑλλήνων ἐς τοὺς ἀπικοίατο φεύγοντες δουλοσύνην 
+πρὸς Μυκηναίων, μοῦνοι ὑποδεξάμενοι τὴν Eù- 
+ρυσθέος ὕβριν .κατείλομεν, σὺν ἐκείνοισι μάχῃ 
+τῷ, τοὺς τότε ἔχοντας Πελοπόννησον. 
+τοῦτο δὲ ᾿Αργείους τοὺς μετὰ Πολυνείκεος ἐπὶ 
+Θήβας ἐλάσαντας, τελευτήσαντας τὸν αἰῶνα καὶ 
+ἀτάφους κειμένους, στρατευσάμενοι ἐπὶ τοὺς 
+Καδμείους ἀνελέσθαι τε τοὺς νεκροὺς φαμὲν. καὶ 
+θάψαι τῆς ἡμετέρης ἐν ᾿Ελευσῖνι. ἔστι δὲ ἡμῖν 
+ἔργον εὖ ἔχον καὶ ἐς ᾽Αμαζονίδας τὰς ἀπὸ Θερ- 
+μώδοντος ποταμοῦ ἐσβαλούσας κοτὲ ἐς γῆν τὴν 
+᾿Αττικήν, καὶ ἐν τοῖσι Ἱρωικοῖσι πόνοισι οὐδαμῶν 
+ἐλειπόμεθα. ἀλλ οὐ γάρ TL προέχει τούτων 
+ἐπιμεμνῆσθαι" καὶ γὰρ ἂν χρηστοὶ τότε ἐόντες 
+ὠυτοὶ νῦν ἂν εἶεν φλαυρότεροι, καὶ τότε ἐόντες 
+φλαῦροι νῦν ἂν εἶεν ἀμείνονες. παλαιῶν μέν νυν 
+ἔργων ἅλις ἔστω' ἡμῖν δὲ εἰ μηδὲν ἄλλο ἐστὶ 
+ἀποδεδεγμένον, ὥσπερ ἐστὶ πολλά τε καὶ εὖ 
+ἔχοντα εἰ τεοῖσι καὶ ἄλλοισι ᾿Ελλήνων, ἀλλὰ καὶ 
+ἀπὸ τοῦ ἐν Μαραθῶνι ἔργου ἄξιοι εἰμὲν τοῦτο τὸ 
+γέρας ἔχειν καὶ ἄλλα πρὸς τούτῳ, οἵτινες μοῦνοι 
+Ἑλλήνων δὴ μουνομαχήσαντες τῷ Πέρσῃ καὶ 
+ἔργῳ. τοσούτῳ ἐπιχειρήσαντες περιεγενόµεθα καὶ 
+ἐνικήσαμεν ἔθνεα ἕξ τε καὶ τεσσεράκοντα. áp 
+ov δίκαιοι εἰμὲν ἔχειν ταύτην τὴν τάξιν ἀπὸ 
+τούτου μούνου τοῦ ἔργου ;; ἀλλ᾽ οὐ γὰρ ἐν τῷ 
+τοιῷδε τάξιος εἵνεκα στασιάξειν πρέπει, ἄρτιοι 
+εἰμὲν πείθεσθαι ὑμῖν ὦ Λακεδαιμόνιοι, f ἵνα δοκέει 
+ἐπιτηδεότατον ἡμέας εἶναι ἑστάναι καὶ xaT 
+οὕστινας: πάντῃ γὰρ τεταγμένοι πειρησόμεθα 
+
+
+190 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. 27 
+
+
+clidae had till then been rejected by every Greek 
+people to whom they resorted to escape the tyranny 
+of the Mycenaeans, we and none other received 
+them! ; and with them we vanouished those that then 
+dwelt in the Peloponnese, and we broke the pride 
+of Eurystheus. Furthermore, when the Argives who 
+had marched with Polynices? against Thebes had 
+there made an end of their lives and lay unburied, 
+know that we sent our army against the Cadmeans 
+and recovered the dead and buried them in Eleusis ; 
+and we have on record our great victory against the 
+Amazons who once came from the river Thermodon 
+and broke into Attica; and in the hard days of Troy 
+we were second to none. But since it is idle to 
+recall these matters—for they that were erstwhile 
+valiant may now be of lesser mettle, and they that 
+lacked mettle then may be better men now—enou gh 
+of these doings of old time; and we, if we are ο. 
+for no achievement (as we are, for more aud greater 
+than are any men in Hellas), yet from our feat of 
+arms at Marathon we deserve to have this honour, 
+yea, and more beside; seeing that alone of all Greeks 
+we met the Persian single-handed, nor failed in that 
+high enterprise, but overcame six and forty nations. 
+Is it not our right to hold this post, for nought but 
+that one feat? Yet seeing that this is no time for 
+wrangling about our place in the battle, we are ready 
+to obey you, men of Lacedaemon! aad take whatso 
+place and face whatso enemy you deem most fitting ; 
+wheresoever you set us, we will strive to be valiant 
+
+1 Hyllus, pursued by his enemy Eurystheus, took refuge 
+with the Athenians, and with their aid defeated and killed 
+Eurystheus and his sons. 
+
+
+2 When Polynices tried to recover Thebes from his brother 
+Eteocles; see Aeschylus’ ‘‘ Seven against Thebes,” 
+
+
+101 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+εἶναι χρηστοί. ἐξηγέεσθε δὲ ὡς πεισομένων.᾽ 
+οἳ μὲν ταῦτα ἀμείβοντο, Λακεδαιμονίων δὲ ἀνέ- 
+βωσε ἅπαν τὸ στρατόπεδον ᾿Αθηναίους atrovi- 
+κοτέρους εἶναι ἔχειν τὸ κέρας ῆ περ ᾿Αρκάδας. 
+οὕτω δὴ ἔσχον οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι καὶ ὑπερεβάλοντο 
+τοὺς 'Γεγεήτας. 
+
+28. Μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα ἐτάσσοντο ὦδε οἱ ἐπι- 
+φοιτῶντές τε καὶ οἱ -ἀρχὴν ἐλθόντες Ἑλλήνων. 
+τὸ μὲν δεξιὸν κέρας εἶχον Λακεδαιμονίων μύριοι" 
+τούτων δὲ τοὺς πεντακισχιλίους ἐόντας Xmap- 
+τιήτας ἐφύλασσον pido τῶν εἱλώτων πεντα- 
+κισχίλιοι καὶ τρισμύριοι, περὶ ἄνδρα ἕκαστον 
+ἑπτὰ τεταγμένοι. προσεχέας δὲ σφίσι εἴλοντο 
+ἑστάναι οἱ Σπαρτιῆται τοὺς Τεγεήτας καὶ τιμῆς 
+εἵνεκα καὶ ἀρετῆς" τούτων δ᾽ ἦσαν. ὁπλῖται χίλιοι 
+καὶ πεντακόσιοι. μετὰ δὲ τούτους ἵσταντο Κοριν- 
+θίων πεντακισχίλιοι, παρὰ δὲ σφίσι εὕροντο παρὰ 
+Παυσανίεω ἑστάναι Ποτιδαιητέων τῶν ἐκ Παλ- 
+λήνης τοὺς παρεόντας τριηκοσίους. τούτων δὲ 
+ἐχόμενοι ἵσταντο ᾿Αρκάδες ᾿Ὀρχομένιοι ἑξακόσιοι, 
+τούτων δὲ Σικυώνιοι. τρισχίλιοι. τούτων δὲ 
+εἴχοντο ᾿Επιδαυρίων ὀκτακόσιοι. παρὰ δὲ τού- 
+τους Τροιζηνίων ἐτάσσοντο χίλιοι, Τροιζηνίων δὲ 
+ἐχόμενοι Λεπρεητέων διηκόσιοι, τούτων δὲ Μυκη- 
+ναίων καὶ Τιρυνθίων τετρακόσιοι, τούτων δὲ 
+ἐχόμενοι Φλειάσιοι χίλιοι. παρὰ δὲ τούτους 
+ἔστησαν Ἑρμιονέες τριηκόσιοι. "Ἑρμιονέων δὲ 
+ἐχόμενοι ἵσταντο 'Eperpiéov τε καὶ Στυρέων 
+ἐξακόσιοι, τούτων δὲ Χαλκιδέες τετρακόσιοι, τού- 
+των δὲ ᾿Αμπρακιητέων πεντακόσιοι. μετὰ δὲ 
+τούτους Λευκαδίων καὶ ᾿Ανακτορίων ὀκτακόσιοι 
+ἔστησαν, τούτων δὲ ἐχόμενοι Παλέες οἱ ἐκ Κεφαλ- 
+
+
+192 
+
+
+ΡΟΟΚ IX. 27-28 
+
+
+men. Command us then, as knowing that we will 
+obey." Thus the Athenians answered; and the 
+whole army shouted aloud that the Athenians were 
+worthier to hold the wing than the Arcadians. Thus 
+the Athenians were preferred to the men of Tegea, 
+and gained that place. 
+
+28. Presently the whole Greek army was arrayed 
+as I shall show, both the later and the earliest 
+comers. On the right wing were ten thousand 
+Lacedaemonians; five thousand of these, who were 
+Spartans, had a guard of thirty-five thousand light- 
+armed helots, seven appointed for each man. The 
+Spartans chose the Tegeans for their neighbours in 
+the battle, both to do them honour, and for their 
+valour; there were of these fifteen hundred men-at- 
+arms. Next to these in the line were five thousand 
+Corinthians, at whose desire Pausanias suffered the 
+three hundred Potidaeans from Pallene then present 
+to stand by them. Next to these were six hundred 
+Arcadians from Orchomenus, and after them three 
+thousand men of Sicyon. By these a thousand 
+Troezenians were posted, and after them two hundred 
+men of Lepreum, then four hundred from Mycenae 
+and Tiryns, and next to them a thousand from Phlius. 
+By these stood three hundred men of Hermione. 
+Next to the men of Hermione were six hundred 
+Eretrians and Styreans ; next to them, four hundred 
+Chalcidians; next again, five hundred Ampraciots, 
+After these stood eight hundred Leucadians and 
+Anactorians, and next to them two hundred from 
+
+
+193 
+VOL. IV. H 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ληνίης διηκόσιοι. μετὰ δὲ τούτους Αἰγινητέων 
+πεντακόσιοι ἐτάχθησαν. παρὰ δὲ τούτους ἐτάσ- 
+σοντο Μεγαρέων τρισχίλιοι. εἴχοντο δὲ τούτων 
+Πλαταιέες ἑξακόσιοι, τελευταῖοι δὲ καὶ πρῶτοι 
+᾿Αθηναῖοι € ἐτάσσοντο, κέρας ἔχοντες τὸ εὐώνυμον, 
+ὀκτακισχίλιοι: ἐστρατήγεε Ò αὐτῶν ᾿ Αριστείδης 
+ὁ Λυσιμάχου. 
+
+99, Οὗτοι, πλὴν τῶν ἑπτὰ περὶ ἕκαστον τεταγ- 
+μένων Σπαρτιήτῃσι, ἦσαν ὁπλῖται, σύμπαντες 
+ἐόντες ἀριθμὸν τρεῖς τε ' μυριάδες καὶ ὀκτὼ Χιλιάδες 
+καὶ ἑκατοντάδες ἑπτά. ὁπλῖται μὲν οἱ πάντες 
+
+συλλεγέντες ἐπὶ τὸν βάρβαρον ἦσαν τοσοῦτοι, 
+ψιλῶν δὲ πλῆθος ἣν τόδε, τῆς μὲν Σπαρτιητικῆς 
+τάξιος πεντακισχίλιοι καὶ τρισμύριοι ἄνδρες, ὡς 
+ἐόντων ἑπτὰ περὶ ἕκαστον ἄνδρα, καὶ τούτων πᾶς 
+τις παρήρτητο ὡς ἐς πόλεμον" οἱ δὲ τῶν λοιπῶν 
+Λακεδαιμονίων καὶ Ἑλλήνων yoi, ὡς els περὶ 
+ἕκαστον ἐὼν ἄνδρα, πεντακόσιοι καὶ τετοακισχίλιοι 
+καὶ τρισμύριοι ἦσαν. 
+
+90. Ψιλῶν μὲν δὴ τῶν ἁπάντων τῶν μαχίμων 
+ἦν τὸ πλῆθος ἕξ τε μυριάδες καὶ ἐννέα χιλιάδες 
+καὶ ἑκατοντάδες πέντε, τοῦ δὲ σύμπαντος τοῦ 
+Ἑλληνικοῦ τοῦ συνελθόντος ἐς Πλαταιὰς σύν τε 
+ὁπλίτησι καὶ ψιλοῖσι τοῖσι μαχίμοισι ἕνδεκα 
+μυριάδες ἦσαν, μιῆς χιλιάδος, πρὸς δὲ ὀκτακοσίων 
+ἀνδρῶν καταδέουααι. σὺν δὲ Θεσπιέων τοῖσι 
+παρεοῦσι ἐξεπληροῦντο αἱ  ἔνδεκα μυριάδες" παρῆ- 
+σαν γὰρ καὶ Θεσπιέων ἐν τῷ στρατοπέδῳ οἱ 
+περιεόντες, ἀριθμὸν ἐς ὀκτακοσίους καὶ χιλίους" 
+ὅπλα δὲ οὐδ᾽ οὗτοι εἶχον. οὗτοι μέν νυν ταχθέντες 
+ἐπὶ τῷ Ασωπό ἐστρατοπεδεύοντο. 
+
+31. Οἱ δὲ ἀμφὶ Μαρδόνιον βάρβαροι ὡς are- 
+194 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. 28-31 
+
+
+Pale in Cephallenia; after them in the array, five 
+hundred Aeginetans; by them stood three thousand 
+men of Megara, and next to these six hundred 
+Plataeans. At the end, and first in the line, were 
+the Athenians, on the left wing, eight thousand 
+men; their general was Aristides son of Lysimachus. 
+
+29. All these, save the seven appointed to attend 
+each Spartan, were men-at-arms, and the whole sum 
+of them was thirty-eight thousand and seven hundred. 
+This was the number of men-at-arms that mustered 
+for war against the foreigner; as regarding the 
+number of the light-armed men, there were in the 
+Spartan array seven for each man-at-arms, that is, 
+thirty-five thousand, and every one of these was 
+equipped for war; the light-armed from the rest of 
+Lacedaemon and Hellas were as one to every man- 
+at-arms, and their number was thirty-four thousand 
+and five hundred. 
+
+30. So the sum of all the light-armed men that were 
+fighters was sixty-nine thousand and five hundred, and 
+of the whole Greek army mustered at Plataeae, men- 
+at-arms and light-armed fighting men together, eleven 
+times ten thousand, lacking eighteen hundred. But 
+the Thespians who were there present made up the 
+full tale of an hundred and ten thousand; for the 
+survivors! of the Thespians were also present with 
+the army, eighteen hundred in number. These then 
+were arrayed, and encamped by the Asopus. 
+
+31. When Mardonius’ foreigners had finished their 
+
+
+1 That is, who had not fallen at Thermopylae. 
+195 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+κήδευσαν Μασίστιον, παρῆσαν, πυθόμενοι τοὺς 
+BAA 5 » Il ^ N , NS EN ` 
+nvas εἶναι ἐν []λαταιῆσι, καὶ αὐτοὶ ἐπὶ τὸν 
+᾿Ασωπὸν τὸν ταύτῃ ῥέοντα. ἀπικόμενοι δὲ 
+" / 
+ἀντετάσσοντο ὧδε ὑπὸ Μαρδονίου. κατὰ μὲν 
+Λακεδαιμονίους ἔστησε Πέρσας. καὶ δὴ πολλὸν 
+γὰρ περιῆσαν πληθεῖ οἱ Ἠέρσαι, ἐπί τε τάξις 
+πλεῦνας ἐκεκοσμέατο καὶ ἐπεῖχον. τοὺς Τεγεήτας. 
+ἔταξε δὲ οὕτω: ὅ τι μὲν ἦν αὐτῶν δυνατώτατον 
+πᾶν ἀπολέξας ἔστησε ἀντίον Λακεδαιμονίων, τὸ 
+δὲ ἀσθενέστερον παρέταξε κατὰ τοὺς Τεγεήτας. 
+ταῦτα Ó ἐποίεε φραξόντων τε καὶ διδασκόντων 
+Θηβαίων. 1Ἱερσέων δὲ ἐχομένους ἔταξε Μήδους: 
+οὗτοι δὲ ἐ ἐπέσχον Κορινθίους τε καὶ Ποτιδαιήτας 
+καὶ ᾿Ὀρχομενίους τε καὶ Σικυωνίους. Μήδων δὲ 
+ἐχομένους ἔταξε Βακτρίους" οὗτοι δὲ ἐπέσχον 
+᾿Ἀπιδαυρίους τε καὶ Τροιζηνίους καὶ Λεπρεήτας 
+τε καὶ Τιρυνθίους καὶ Μυκηναίους τε καὶ Pher- 
+ασίους. μετὰ δὲ Βακτρίους ἔστησε Ινδούς: οὗτοι 
+δὲ ἐπέσχον “Ἑρμιονέας τε καὶ "Eperpiéas. καὶ 
+Στυρέας τε καὶ Χαλκιδέας. Ἰνδῶν δὲ ἐχομένους 
+Σάκας ἔταξε, οἳ ἐπέσχον ᾽Αμπρακιήτας τε καὶ 
+᾿Ανακτορίους καὶ Λευκαδίους καὶ Παλέας καὶ 
+Αἰγινήτας. Σακέων δὲ ἐχομένους ἔταξε ἀντία 
+3 4 \ ’ X / 
+Αθηναίων τε καὶ Ἱ]λαταιέων καὶ Μεγαρέων 
+Βοιωτούς τε καὶ Λοκροὺς καὶ Μηλιέας τε καὶ 
+Θεσσαλοὺς καὶ Φωκέων τοὺς χιλίους: οὐ γὰρ ὧν 
+“ e / , if 3 \ ` , ^ 
+ἅπαντες οἱ Φωκέες ἐμήδισαν, ἀλλὰ τινὲς αὐτῶν 
+N x € ΄ 5 M N ` 
+καὶ τὰ Ελλήνων ηῦξον περι τὸν Ilapvnocòv 
+κατειλημένοι, καὶ ἐνθεῦτεν ὁρμώμενοι ἔφερόν τε 
+καὶ ἦγον τήν τε Μαρδονίου στρατιὴν καὶ τοὺς 
+, , aA 3’ € / » \ \ / 
+μετ αὐτοῦ ἐόντας Ελλήνων. ἔταξε δὲ καὶ Maxe- 
+
+
+196 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 31 
+
+
+mourning for Masistius, and heard that the Greeks 
+were at Plataeae, they also came to the part of the 
+Asopus river nearest to them. When they were 
+there they were arrayed for battle by Mardonius as 
+I shall show. He posted the Persians facing the 
+Lacedaemonians; and seeing that the Persians by 
+far outnumbered the Lacedaemonians, they were 
+arrayed in deeper ranks and their line ran fronting 
+the Tegeans also. In his arraying of them he chose 
+out the strongest part of the Persians to set it over 
+against the Lacedaemonians, and posted the weaker 
+by them facing the Tegeans; this he did being so 
+informed and taught by the Thebans. Next to the 
+Persians he posted the Medes, fronting the men of 
+Corinth and Potidaea and Orchomenus and Sicyon; 
+next to the Medes, the Bactrians, fronting the men 
+of Epidaurus, Troezen, Lepreum, Tiryns, Mycenae, 
+and Phlius. After the Bactrians he set the Indians, 
+fronting the men of Hermione and Eretria and Styra 
+and Chalcis. Next to the Indians he posted the 
+Sacae, fronting the Ampraciots, Anactorians, Leuca- 
+dians, Paleans, and Aeginetans; next to the Sacae, 
+and over against the Athenians and Plataeans and 
+Megarians, the Boeotians and Locrians and Malians 
+and Thessalians and the thousand that came from 
+Phocis; for not all the Phocians took the Persian 
+part, but some of them gave their aid to the Greek 
+cause; these had been beleaguered on Parnassus, 
+and issued out from thence to harry Mardonius' army 
+and the Greeks that were with him. Besides these, 
+
+
+I97 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δόνας τε καὶ τοὺς περὶ Θεσσαλίην οἰκημένους 
+κατὰ τοὺς ᾿Αθηναίους. 
+
+32. Ταῦτα .μὲν τῶν ἐθνέων τὰ μέγιστα ὠνό- 
+µασται τῶν ὑπὸ Μαρδονίου ταχθέντων, τά Tep 
+ἐπιφανέστατά τε ἦν καὶ λόγου πλείστου" ἐνῆσαν 
+δὲ καὶ ἄλλων ἐθνέων ἄνδρες ἀναμεμιγμένοι, θρυγῶν 
+τε καὶ Θρηίκων καὶ Μυσῶν τε καὶ Παιόνων καὶ 
+τῶν ἄλλων, ἐν δὲ καὶ Αἰθιόπων τε καὶ Αἰγυπτίων 
+οὗ τε Ἑρμοτύβιες καὶ οἱ Καλασίριες καλεόμενοι 
+μαχαιροφόροι, ot περ εἰσὶ Αἰγυπτίων μοῦνοι 
+μάχιμοι. τούτους δὲ ἔτι ἐν Φαλήρῳ ἐὼν ἀπὸ 
+τῶν νεῶν ἀπεβιβάσατο ἐόντας ἐπιβάτας" οὐ γὰρ 
+ἐτάχθησαν ἐς τὸν πεζὸν τὸν ἅμα Ξέρξη. ἀπι- 
+κόμενον ἐς ᾿Αθήνας Αἰγύπτιοι. τῶν μὲν δὴ 
+Βαρβάρων ἧσαν τριήκοντα μυριάδες, ὡς καὶ πρό- 
+τερον δεδήλωται τῶν δὲ Ελλήνων τῶν Μαρδονίου 
+συμμάχων οἶδε μὲν οὐδεὶς ἀριθμόν: οὐ γὰρ ὧν 
+ἠριθμήθησαν' ὡς δὲ é ἐπεικάσαι, ἐς πέντε μυριάδας 
+συλλεγῆναι εἰκάξω. οὗτοι οἱ παραταχθέντες 
+d ἦσαν, ý δὲ | ἵππος χωρὶς ἐτέτακτο. 
+
+Ὡς δὲ ἄρα πάντες οἱ ἐτετάχατο κατὰ ἔθνεα 
+καὶ κατὰ τέλεα, ἐνθαύτα τῇ δευτέρῃ ἡ ἡμέρῃ ἐθύοντο 
+καὶ ἀμφότεροι. Ἓλλησι μὲν Τισαμενὸς ᾿Αντιόχου 
+ἦν o θυόμενος" οὗτος γὰρ. δὴ εἴπετο τῷ στρατεύ- 
+ματι τούτῳ μάντις" τὸν ἐόντα ᾿Ηλεῖον καὶ γένεος 
+τοῦ Ἰαμιδέων []λυτιάδην] Λακεδαιμόνιοι ἐποιή- 
+σαντο λεωσφέτερον. Έισαμενῷ γὰρ μαντευομένῳ 
+ἐν Δελφοῖσι περὶ γόνου ἀνεῖλε ἡ Πυθίη ἀγῶνας 
+τοὺς μεγίστους ἀναιρήσεσθαι πέντε. ὃ μὲν δὴ 
+
+
+1 The Egyptian military classes mentioned in Bk. rr. 164. 
+2 The Iamidae were a priestly family, the members of 
+
+
+198 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 31-33 
+
+
+he arrayed against the Athenians Macedonians also 
+and the dwellers about Thessaly. 
+
+32. These that I have named were the greatest of 
+the nations set in array by Mardonius that were of 
+most note and account; but there was also in the 
+army a mixed multitude of Phrygians, Thracians, 
+Mysians, Paeonians, and the rest, besides Ethiopians 
+and the Egyptian swordsmen called Hermotybies 
+and Calasiries,! who are the only fighting men in 
+Egypt. These had been fighters on shipboard, till 
+Mardonius while yet at Phalerum disembarked them 
+from their ships; for the Egyptians were not 
+appointed to serve in the land army which Xerxes 
+led to Athens. Of the foreigners, then, there were 
+three hundred thousand, as I have already shown; 
+as for the Greek allies of Mardonius, none knows the 
+number of them, for they were not counted; but as far 
+as guessing may serve, I suppose them to have been 
+mustered to the number of fifty thousand. These 
+were the footmen that were set in array ; the cavalry 
+were separately ordered. 
+
+33. When they had all been arrayed in their nations 
+and their battalions, on the second day thereafter 
+both armies offered sacrifice. For the Greeks, Tisa- 
+menus it was that sacrificed; for he was with their 
+army as a diviner; he was an Elean by birth, a 
+Clytiad of the Jamid clan,? and the Lacedaemonians 
+gave him the freedom of their city. For when 
+Tisamenus was inquiring of the oracle at Delphi 
+concerning issue, the priestess prophesied to him 
+that he should win five great victories. Not under- 
+
+
+which were found in all parts of Hellas. The Clytiadae 
+were also Elean priests, but quite separate from the 
+Iamidae ; so Stein is probably right in bracketing Κλυτιάδην. 
+
+
+199 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἁμαρτὼν τοῦ χρηστηρίου προσεῖχε γυμνασίοισι 
+ὡς ἀναιρησόμενος γυμνικοὺς ἀγῶνας, ἀσκέων δὲ 
+πεντάεθλον παρὰ ἓν πάλαισμα ἔδραμε νικᾶν 
+Ὀλυμπιάδα, Ἱερωνύμῳ τῷ ᾿Ανδρίῳ ἐλθὼν ἐς ἔριν. 
+Λακεδαιμόνιοι δὲ μαθόντες οὐκ ἐς γυμνικοὺς ἀλλ᾽ 
+ἐς ἀρηίους ἀγῶνας φέρον τὸ Τισαμενοῦ μαντήιον, 
+μισθῷ ἐπειρῶντο πείσαντες Τισαμενὸν ποιέεσθαι 
+ἅμα 'Ηρακλειδέων τοῖσι βασιλεῦσι ἡγεμόνα τῶν 
+πολέμων. ὃ δὲ ὀρέων περὶ πολλοῦ ποιευμένους 
+Σπαρτιήτας φίλον αὐτὸν προσθέσθαι, μαθὼν 
+τοῦτο ἀνετίμα, σημαίνων. σφι ὡς ἣν μιν πολιήτην 
+σφέτερον ποιήσωνται τῶν πάντων μεταδιδόντες, 
+ποιήσει ταῦτα, ἐπ᾿ ἄλλῳ μισθῷ Ò οὔ. Σπαρτιῆται 
+δὲ πρῶτα μὲν ἀκούσαντες δεινὰ ἐποιεῦντο καὶ 
+μετίεσαν τῆς χρησμοσύνης τὸ παράπαν, τέλος δὲ 
+δεύματος μεγάλου ἐπικρεμαμένου τοῦ Περσικοῦ 
+τούτου στρατεύματος καταίνεον μετιόντες. ὃ δὲ 
+γνοὺς τετραμμένους σφέας οὐδ᾽ οὕτω ἔτι ἔφη 
+ἀρκέεσθαι τούτοισι μούνοισι, ἀλλὰ δεῖν ἔτι τὸν 
+ἀδελφεὸν ἑωυτοῦ Ηγίην γίνεσθαι Σπαρτιήτην 
+ἐπὶ τοῖσι αὐτοῖσι λόγοισι τοῖσι καὶ αὐτὸς γίνεται. 
+
+34. Ταῦτα δὲ λέγων οὗτος ἐμιμέετο Μελάμποδα, 
+ὡς εἰκάσαι βασιληίην τε καὶ πολιτηίην αἰτεομέ- 
+νους. καὶ γὰρ δὴ καὶ Μελάμπους τῶν ἐν " Apyei 
+γυναικῶν μανεισέων, ὥς μιν οἱ ᾿Αργεῖοι ἐμισθοῦντο 
+ἐκ Πύλου παῦσαι τὰς σφετέρας γυναῖκας τῆς 
+νούσου, μισθὸν προετείνατο τῆς βασιληίης τὸ 
+ἥμισυ. οὐκ ἀνασχομένων δὲ τῶν ᾿Αργείων ἀλλ᾽ 
+ἀπιόντων, ὡς ἐμαίνοντο πλεῦνες τῶν γυναικῶν, 
+
+
+1 The five events of the Peutathlum were running, jumping, 
+wrestling, and throwing of the spear and the discus. 
+
+
+200 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. 33-34 
+
+
+standing that oracle, he betook himself to bodily 
+exercises, thinking so to win in such-like sports; 
+and having trained himself for the Five Contests,! he 
+came within one wrestling bout of winning the 
+Olympic prize, in a match with Hieronymus of 
+Andros. But the Lacedaemonians perceived that 
+the oracle given to Tisamenus spake of the lists not 
+of sport but of war; and they essayed to bribe Tisa- 
+menus to be a leader in their wars, jointly with 
+their kings of Heracles line. But when he saw 
+that the Spartans set great store by his friendship, 
+with this knowledge he set his price higher, and 
+made it known to them that for no reward would he 
+do their will save for the gift of full citizenship and 
+all a citizen's rights. Hearing that, the Spartans 
+at first were angry and ceased wholly from their 
+request; but when the dreadful menace of this 
+Persian host overhung them they consented and 
+granted his demand. But when he saw their pur- 
+pose changed, he said that not even so and with that 
+only would he be content; his brother Hegias too 
+must be made a Spartan on the same terms as 
+himself. 
+
+34. By so saying he imitated Melampus, in so far 
+as one may compare demands for kingship and for 
+citizenship. For when the women of Argos had gone 
+mad, and the Argives would fain hire him to come 
+from Pylos and heal them of that madness,? Melampus 
+demanded half of their kingship for his wages; 
+which the Argives could not suffer, and so departed ; 
+but when the madness spread among their women, 
+
+
+? According to the legend, the Argive women were driven 
+mad by Dionysus for refusing to take part in his orgies, and 
+cured by Melampus. Many Greek authors refer to it, with 
+varying details. 
+
+
+20I 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+οὕτω δὴ ὑποστάντες τὰ 0 Μελάμπους προετείνατο 
+ἤισαν δώσοντές οἱ ταῦτα. ὃ δὲ ἐνθαῦτα δὴ ἐπο- 
+ρέγεται ὀρέων αὐτοὺς τετραμμένους, φάς, ἦν μὴ 
+καὶ τῷ ἀδελφεῷ Βίαντι μεταδῶσι τὸ τριτημόριον 
+τῆς βασιληίης; οὐ ποιήσειν τὰ 'Βούλονται. οἱ δὲ 
+Ἀργεῖοι ἀπειληθέντες ἐς στεινὸν καταινέουσι καὶ 
+ταῦτα. 
+
+35, Ὡς δὲ καὶ Σπαρτιῆται, ἐδέοντο γὰρ δεινῶς 
+τοῦ Τισαμενοῦ, πάντως συνεχώρεόν οἱ. συγχωρη- 
+σάντων δὲ καὶ ταῦτα τῶν Σπαρτιητέων, οὕτω δὴ 
+πέντε σφι μαντευόμενος ἀγῶνας τοὺς μεγίστους 
+Τισαμενὸς ὁ Ἠλεῖος, γενόμενος Σπαρτιήτης, 
+συγκαταιρέει. μοῦνοι δὲ δὴ πάντων πας 
+ἐγένοντο οὗτοι Σπαρτιήτησι πολιῆται. οἱ δὲ 
+πέντε ἀγῶνες οἵδε ἐγένοντο, εἷς μὲν καὶ προσ 
+οὗτος ὁ ἐν Πλαταιῇσι, ἐπὶ δὲ ὁ ἐν Teyég πρὸς 
+Τεγεήτας τε καὶ ᾿Αργείους γενόμενος, μετὰ δὲ 
+ὁ ἐν Διπαιεῦσι πρὸς ᾿Αρκάδας πάντας πλὴν 
+Μαντινέων, ἐπὶ δὲ ὁ Μεσσηνίων ὁ πρὸς ᾿Ιθώμῃ, 
+ὕστατος δὲ ὁ ἐν Τανάγρῃ πρὸς ᾿Αθηναίους τε 
+καὶ ᾿Αργείους γενόμενος" οὗτος δὲ ὕστατος 
+κατεργάσθη τῶν πέντε ἀγώνων. 
+
+96. Οὗτος δὴ τότε τοῖσι "Ἕλλησι ὁ Τισαμενός, 
+ἀγόντων τῶν Σπαρτιητέων, ἐμαντεύετο ἐν τῇ 
+Πλαταιίδι. τοῖσι μέν νυν "Ἕλλησι καλὰ ἐγίνετο 
+τὰ ἱρὰ ἀμυνομένοισι, διαβᾶσι δὲ τὸν ᾿Ασωπὸν 
+καὶ μάχης ἄρχουσι οὔ. 
+
+9T. Μαρδονίῳ δὲ προθυμεομένῳ μάχης ἄρχειν 
+οὐκ ἐπιτήδεα ἐγίνετο τὰ ἱρά, ἀμυνομένῳ δὲ καὶ 
+τούτῳ καλά. καὶ γὰρ οὗτος ᾿Ελληνικοῖσι ἱροῖσι 
+ἐχρᾶτο, μάντιν ἔχων Ηγησίστρατον ἄνδρα ᾿Ηλεῖόν 
+
+
+202 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 34-37 
+
+
+thereat they promised what Melampus demanded 
+and were ready to give it to him. Thereupon, seeing 
+their purpose changed, he asked yet more, and said 
+that he would not do their will except they gave a 
+third of their kingship to his brother Bias; and the 
+Argives, driven thus into a strait, consented to that 
+also. 
+
+35. Thus the Spartans too were so eagerly desirous 
+of winning Tisamenus that they granted all his de- 
+mand. When they had granted him this also, then 
+did Tisamenus of Elis, now become a Spartan, ply his 
+divination for them and aid them to win five very 
+great victories. None on earth save Tisamenus and 
+his brother ever became citizens of Sparta. Now the 
+five victories were these: one, the first, this victory 
+at Plataeae; next that which was won at Tegea over 
+the Tegeans and Argives; after that, over all the 
+Arcadians save the Mantineans at Dipaea; next, 
+over the Messenians at Ithome; lastly, the victory at 
+Tanagra over the Athenians and Argives, which was 
+the last won of the five victories.! 
+
+36. This Tisamenus had now been brought by the 
+Spartans and was the diviner of the Greeks in the 
+lands of Plataeae. Now the sacrifices boded good 
+to the Greeks if they should but defend themselves, 
+but evil if they should cross the Asopus and be the 
+first to attack. 
+
+37. But Mardonius' sacrifices also boded nought to 
+his liking if he should be zealous to attack first, and 
+good if he should but defend himself; for he too 
+used the Greek manner of sacrifice; Hegesistratus 
+
+
+!'The battle at Ithome was apparently in the third 
+Messenian war; that at Tanagra, in 457 B.C. (Thucyd. i. 
+107) Nothing is known of the battles at Tegea and Dipaea. 
+
+
+203 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τε καὶ τῶν Τελλιαδέων éóvra λογιμώτατον, τὸν 
+δὴ πρότερον τούτων Σπαρτιῆται λαβόντες ἔδησαν 
+ἐπὶ θανάτῳ ὡς πεπονθότες πολλά τε καὶ ἀνάρσια 
+ὑπ᾽ αὐτοῦ. 6 δὲ ἐν τούτῳ τῷ κακῷ ἐχόμενος, 
+ὥστε τρέχων περὶ τῆς ψυχῆς πρό τε τοῦ θανάτου 
+πεισόμενος πολλά τε καὶ λυγρά, ἔργον ἐργάσατο 
+μέξον λόγου. ὡς γὰρ δὴ ἐδέδετο ἐν ξύλῳ σιδηρο- 
+δέτῳ, ἐσενειχθέντος κως σιδηρίου È ἐκράτησε, αὐτίκα 
+δὲ ἐμηχανᾶτο ἀνδρηιότατον ἔργον πάντων τῶν 
+ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν" σταθμησάμενος γὰρ ὅκως ἐξελεύσεταί 
+οἱ τὸ λοιπὸν τοῦ ποδός, ἀπέταμε τὸν ταρσὸν 
+ἑωυτοῦ. ταῦτα δὲ ποιήσας, ὡς φυλασσόμενος 
+ὑπὸ φυλάκων, διορύξας τὸν τοῖχον ἀπέδρη ἐς 
+Τεγέην, τὰς μὲν νύκτας πορευόμενος, τὰς δὲ 
+ἡμέρας καταδύνων ἐς ὕλην καὶ αὐλιξόμενος, οὕτω 
+ὡς Λακεδαιμονίων πανδημεὶ διξημένων τρίτῃ εὐ- 
+φρόνῃ γενέσθαι ἐν Τεγέῃ, τοὺς δὲ ἐν θώματι 
+μεγάλῳ ἐνέχεσθαι τῆς τε τόλμης, ὁρῶντας τὸ 
+ἡμίτομον τοῦ ποδὸς κείμενον, κἀκεῖνον οὐ ôv- 
+ναμένους εὑρεῖν. τότε μὲν οὕτω διαφυγὼν Λακε- 
+δαιμονίους καταφεύγει ἐς Τεγέην ἐοῦσαν οὐκ 
+ἀρθμίην Λακεδαιμονίοισι τοῦτον τὸν χρόνον" 
+ὑγιὴς δὲ γενόμενος καὶ προσποιησάμενος ξύλινον 
+πόδα κατεστήκεε ἐκ τῆς ἰθέης Λακεδαιμονίοισι 
+πολέμιος. οὐ μέντοι ἔς γε τέλος οἱ συνήνεικε τὸ 
+ἔχθος τὸ ἐς Λακεδαιμονίους συγκεκυρημένον' ἥλω 
+γὰρ μαντευόμενος ἐν Ζακύνθῳ ὑπ αὐτῶν καὶ 
+ας. 
+
+Ὁ μέντοι θάνατος o Ἡγησιστράτου ὕστερον 
+νε, τῶν Ἰ1Γλαταιικῶν, τότε δὲ ἐπὶ τῷ ᾿Ασωπῷ 
+Μαρδονίω μεμισθωμένος οὐκ ὀλίγου ἐθύετό τε καὶ 
+προεθυμέετο κατά τετὸ ἔχθος τὸ Λακεδαιμονίων καὶ 
+204 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 37-38 
+
+
+of Elis was his diviner, the most notable of the sons 
+of Tellias. This man had been put in prison and 
+doomed to die by the Spartans for the much harm 
+that he had done them. Being in this evil casc, 
+inasmuch as he was in peril of his life and like to be 
+very grievously maltreated ere his death, he did a 
+deed well nigh past believing: being made fast in 
+iron-bound stocks, he got an iron weapon that was 
+brought in some wise into his prison, and straight- 
+way conceived a plan of such hardihood as we have 
+never known; reckoning how best the rest of it 
+might get free, he cut off his own foot at the instep. 
+This done, he burrowed through the wall out of the 
+way of the guards that kept ward over him, and so 
+escaped to Tegea; all night he journeyed and all day 
+he hid and lay close in the woods,till on the third night 
+he came to Tegea, while all the people of Lacedae- 
+mon sought him; and they were greatly amazed, 
+seeing the half of his foot cut off and lying there, 
+but not being able to find the man himself, Thus 
+did he then escape from the Lacedaemonians and 
+take refuge in Tegea, which at that time was un- 
+friendly to Lacedaemon; and after he was healed 
+and had made himself a foot of wood, he declared 
+himself an open enemy of the Lacedaemonians. Yet 
+the enmity that he bore them brought him no good 
+at the last; for they caught him at his divinations in 
+Zacynthus, and slew him. 
+
+38. Howbeit, the death of Hegesistratus happened 
+after the Plataean business; at the present he was 
+by the Asopus, hired by Mardonius for no small 
+wage, where he sacrificed and wrought zealously, 
+both for the hatred he bore the Lacedaemonians, 
+
+
+205 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+κατὰ τὸ κέρδος. ὡς δὲ οὐκ ᾿ἐκαλλιέρεε ὥ ὥστε μάχεσθαι 
+οὔτε αὐτοῖσι Πέ έρσῃσι οὔτε τοῖσι peT è ἐκείνων ἐοῦσι 
+Ἑλλήνων (εἶχον γὰρ καὶ οὗτοι ἐπ᾽ ἑωυτῶν μάντιν 
+Ἱππόμαχον Λευκάδιον ἄνδρα), ἐπιρρεόντων δὲ τῶν 
+Ἑλλήνων καὶ γινομένων πλεύνων, Τιμηγενίδης ὁ 
+" Eprrvos ἀνὴρ Θηβαῖος συνεβούλευσε Μαρδονίῳ 
+τὰς ἐκβολὰς τοῦ Κιθαιρῶνος φυλάξαι, λέγων ὡς 
+ἐπιρρέουσι οἱ "Ελληνες αἰεὶ ἀνὰ πᾶσαν ἡμέρην 
+d we ἀπολάμψοιτο συχνούς. 
+
+- Ἡμέραι δέ σφι ἀντικατημένοισι ἤδη ἐγε- 
+E ὀκτώ, ὅτε ταῦτα ἐκεῖνος συνεβούλευε 
+Μαρδονίῳ. ὃ δὲ μαθὼν τὴν παραίνεσιν εὖ ἔχουσαν, 
+ὡς εὐφρόνη ἐγένετο, πέμπει τὴν ἵππον ἐς τὰς 
+ἐκβολὰς τὰς Κιθαιρωνίδας αἳ ἐπὶ Πλαταιέων 
+φέρουσι, τὰς Βοιωτοὶ μὲν Τρεῖς κεφαλὰς καλέουσι, 
+᾿Αθηναῖοι δὲ Δρυὸς κεφαλάς. πεμφθέντες δὲ οἱ 
+ἱππόται οὐ μάτην ἀπίκοντο' ἐσβάλλοντα γὰρ ἐς 
+τὸ πεδίον λαμβάνουσι ὑποζύγιά τε πεντακόσια, 
+σιτία ἄγοντα ἀπὸ Πελοποννήσου ἐς τὸ στρα- 
+τόπεδον, καὶ ἀνθρώπους. οἳ εἵποντο τοῖσι ξεύγεσι. 
+ἑλόντες δὲ ταύτην τὴν ἄγρην οἱ Πέρσαι ἀφειδέως 
+ἐφόνενον, οὐ φειδόμενοι οὔτε ὑποζυγίου οὐδενὸς 
+οὔτε ἀνθρώπου. ὡς δὲ ἄδην εἶχον κτείνοντες, τὰ 
+λοιπὰ αὐτῶν avrov περιβαλόμενοι παρά τε 
+Μαρδόνιον καὶ ἐς τὸ στρατόπεδον. 
+
+40. Μετὰ δὲ τοῦτο τὸ ἔργον ἑτέρας δύο ἡμέρας 
+διέτριψαν, οὐδέτεροι Βουλόμενοι μάχης ἄρξαι" 
+μέχρι μὲν γὰρ τοῦ ᾿Ασωποῦ ἐπήισαν οἱ βάρβαροι 
+πειρώμενοι τῶν Ἑλλήνων, διέβαινον δὲ οὐδέτεροι. 
+7) μέντοι ἵππος ἡ Μαρδονίου. αἰεὶ TPOTEKELTO TE 
+καὶ ἐλύπεε τοὺς "Ελληνας" οἱ γὰρ Θηβαῖοι, ἅτε 
+µηδίζοντες μεγάλως, προθύμως ἔφερον τὸν TONE- 
+206 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 38-40 
+
+
+and for gain. But when no favourable omens for 
+battle could be won either by the Persians them- 
+selves or by the Greeks that were with them (for 
+they too had a diviner of their own, Hippomachus of 
+Leucas), and the Greeks the while were ever flock- 
+ing in and their army grew, Timagenides son of 
+Herpys, a Theban, counselled Mardonius to guard 
+the outlet of the pass over Cithaeron, telling him 
+that the Greeks were ever flocking in daily and that 
+he would thereby cut off many of them. 
+
+39. The armies had now lain over against each 
+other for eight days when he gave this counsel. 
+Mardonius perceived that the advice was good ; and 
+when night had fallen he sent his horsemen to the 
+outlet of the pass over Cithaeron that leads towards 
+Plataeae, which pass the Boeotians call the Three 
+Heads, and the Athenians the Oaks' Heads. This 
+despatch of the horsemen was no fruitless one ; for 
+they caught five hundred beasts of burden issuing 
+into the low country, bringing provision from the 
+Peloponnese for the army, and men that came with 
+the waggons; having taken which quarry the 
+Persians slew without mercy, sparing neither man 
+nor beast. When they had their fill of slaughter, 
+they set what remained in their midst and drove 
+them to Mardonius and his camp. 
+
+40. After this deed they waited two days more, 
+neither side desiring to begin the battle; for though 
+the foreigners came to the Asopus to make trial 
+of the Greeks' purpose, neither army crossed it. 
+Howbeit Mardonius' horse was ever besetting and 
+troubling the Greeks; for the Thebans, in their 
+zeal for the Persian part, waged war heartily, and 
+
+
+207 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μον καὶ αἰεὶ κατηγέοντο μέχρι μάχης; τὸ δὲ ἀπὸ 
+τούτου παραδεκόµενοι Πέρσαι τε καὶ Μῆδοι μάλα 
+ἔσκον οἳ ἀπεδείκνυντο ἀρετάς. 
+
+41. Μέχρι μέν νυν τῶν δέκα ἡμερέων οὐδὲν ἐπὶ 
+πλεῦν ἐγίνετο τούτων' ὡς δὲ ἑνδεκάτη ἐγεγόνεε 
+ἡμέρη ἀντικατημένοισι ἐν Πλαταιῇσι, οἵ τε δὴ 
+“Ελληνες πολλῷ πλεῦνες ἐγεγόνεσαν καὶ Map- 
+δόνιος περιημέκτεε τῇ ἕδρῃ, ἐνθαῦτα ἐς λόγους 
+ἦλθον Μαρδόνιός τε ὁ Γοβρύεω καὶ ᾿Αρτάβαξος 
+ὁ Φαρνάκεος, ὃς ἐν ὀλίγοισι Περσέων ἣν ἀνὴρ 
+δόκιμος παρὰ Ξέρξῃ. Βουλενομένων δὲ aide ἢ ἦσαν 
+αἱ γνῶμαι, ἣ μὲν ᾿Αρταβάξου ὡς χρεὸν εἴη ava- 
+ἑεύξαντας τὴν ταχίστην πάντα τὸν στρατὸν. ἰέναι 
+ἐς τὸ τεῖχος τὸ Θηβαίων, ἔνθα σῖτον τέ σφι 
+ἐσενηνεῖχθαι πολλὸν καὶ χόρτον τοῖσι ὑποζυγίοισι, 
+κατ ἡσυχίην τε ἱξομένους διαπρήσσεσθαι ποι- 
+εὔντας τάδε' ἔχειν γὰρ χρυσὸν πολλὸν μὲν ἐπίση- 
+μον πολλὸν δὲ καὶ ἄσημον, πολλὸν δὲ ἄργυρόν 
+τε καὶ ἐκπώματα" τούτων φειδομένους μηδενὸς 
+διαπέμπειν ἐς τοὺς "Ελληνας, Ἑλλήνων δὲ μά- 
+λιστα ἐς τοὺς προεστεῶτας ἐν τῇσι πόλισι, καὶ 
+ταχέως σφέας παραδώσειν τὴν ἐλευθερίην: μηδὲ 
+ἀνακινδυνεύειν συμβάλλοντας. τούτου μὲν ἡ αὐτὴ 
+ἐγίνετο καὶ Θηβαίων γνώμη, ὡς προειδότος πλεῦν 
+TL καὶ τούτου, Μαρδονίου δὲ ἰσχυροτέρη τε καὶ 
+ἀγνωμονεστέρη καὶ οὐδαμῶς συγγινωσκομένη" 
+δοκέειν τε γὰρ. πολλῷ κρέσσονα εἶναι τὴν σφετέρην 
+στρατιὴν τῆς Ἑλληνικῆς, συμβάλλει» τε τὴν τα- 
+χίστην μηδὲ περιορᾶν συλλεγομένους ἔτι πλεῦνας 
+τῶν συλλελεγμένων, τά τε σφάγια τὰ 'ἬΗγησισ- 
+
+
+209 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 40-41 
+
+
+were ever guiding the horsemen to the encounter ; 
+thereafter it was the turn of the Persians and 
+Medes, and they and none other would do deeds of 
+valour. 
+
+41. Until the ten days were past no more was 
+done than this ; but on the eleventh day from their 
+first encampment over against each other, the 
+Greeks growing greatly in number and Mardonius 
+being sore vexed by the delay, there was a debate 
+held between Mardonius son of Gobryas and Arta- 
+bazus son of Pharnaces, who stood as high as but 
+few others in Xerxes’ esteem; and their opinions 
+in council were as I will show. Artabazus held it 
+best that they should strike their camp with all 
+speed and lead the whole army within the walls of 
+Thebes, where they had much provision stored and 
+fodder for their beasts of burden, and where they 
+could sit at their ease and despatch the business 
+by taking the great store they had of gold, minted 
+and other, and silver and drinking-cups, and sending 
+all this without stint to all places in Hellas, but 
+especially to the chief men in the cities of Hellas ; 
+let them do this (said he) and the Greeks would 
+quickly surrender their liberty; but let not the 
+Persians risk the event of a battle. This opinion 
+of his was the same as the Thebans’, inasmuch as he 
+too had especial foreknowledge; but Mardonius’ 
+counsel was more vehement and intemperate and 
+nowise leaning to moderation; for (said he) he 
+deemed that their army was by much stronger than 
+the Greeks’, and that they should give battle with 
+all speed, and not suffer yet more Greeks to muster 
+than were mustered already ; as for the sacrifices of 
+Hegesistratus, let them pay no heed to these, nor 
+
+
+209 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τράτου ἐᾶν χαίρειν μηδὲ βιάζεσθαι, ἀλλὰ νόμῳ 
+τῷ Περσέων χρεωμένους συμβάλλειν. 
+
+49, Τούτου δὲ οὕτω δικαιεῦντος ἀντέλεγε οὐδείς, 
+ὥστε ἐκράτεε τῇ γνώμη" τὸ γὰρ κράτος εἶχε τῆς 
+στρατιῆς οὗτος ἐκ βασιλέος, ἀλλ᾽ οὐκ ᾿Αρτάβαξος. 
+μεταπεμγ-άμενος ὧν τοὺς ταξιάρχους τῶν τελέων 
+καὶ τῶν μετ᾽ ἑωυτοῦ ἐόντων Ἑλλήνων τοὺς στρα- 
+τηγοὺς εἰρώτα εἴ τι εἰδεῖεν λόγιον περὶ Περσέων 
+ὡς διαφθερέονται ἐ ἐν τῇ Ἑλλάδι. συγώντων δὲ τῶν 
+ἐπικλήτων, τῶν μὲν οὐκ εἰδότων τοὺς χρησμούς, 
+τῶν δὲ εὐδότων μὲν ἐν ἀδείῃ δὲ οὐ ποιευμένων τὸ 
+λέγειν, αὐτὸς Μαρδόνιος ἔλεγε “ ἐπεὶ τοίνυν ὑμεῖς 
+ἢ ἴστε οὐδὲν ἢ οὐ τολμᾶτε λέγειν, ἀλλ, ἐγὼ ἐρέω 
+ὡς εὖ ἐπιστάμενος" ἔστι λόγιον ὡς χρεόν ἐστι 
+Πέρσας ἀπικομένους ἐς τὴν Ἑλλάδα διαρπάσαι τὸ 
+ἱρὸν τὸ ἐν Δελφοῖσι, μετὰ, δὲ τὴν διαρπαγὴν ἆ ATO- 
+λέσθαι πάντας. ἡμεῖς τοίνυν αὐτὸ τοῦτο ἐπιστά- 
+μενοι οὔτε ἴμεν ἐπὶ τὸ ἱρὸν τοῦτο οὔτε ἐπιχειρή- 
+σομεν διαρπάζειν, ταύτης τε εἵνεκα τῆς αἰτίης οὐκ 
+ἀπολεόμεθα. ὥστε ὑμέων ὅσοι τυγχάνουσι εὔνοοι 
+ἐόντες Πέρσῃσι, ἥδεσθε τοῦδε εἵνεκα ὡς περιεσοµέ- 
+νους ἡμέας ᾿Ελλήνων.᾽ ταῦτά σφι εἴπας δεύτερα 
+ἐσήμαινε παραρτέεσθαί τε πάντα, καὶ εὐκρινέα 
+ποιέεσθαι ὡς ἅμα ἡμέρη τῇ ἐπιούσῃ συμβολῆς 
+ἐσομένης. 
+
+48. Τοῦτον δ᾽ ἔγωγε τὸν χρησμόν, τὸν Μαρ- 
+δόνιος εἶπε ἐς Πέρσας ἐ ἔχειν, ἐς Ἰλλυριούς τε καὶ 
+τὸν ᾿Εγχελέων στρατὸν οἶδα πεποιημένον, ἀλλ᾽ 
+
+
+1 Lit. to do violence, compel the gods, like ** superos votis 
+fatigare" in Latin. 
+
+
+219 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. 41-43 
+
+
+seek to wring good from them,! but rather give 
+battle after Persian custom. 
+
+42. None withstood this argument, so that his 
+opinion prevailed ; for it was he and not Artabazus 
+who was generalissimo of the army by the king's 
+commission. He sent therefore for the leaders of 
+the battalions and the generals of those Greeks that 
+were with him, and asked them if they knew any 
+oracle which prophesied that the Persians should 
+perish in Hellas. They that were summoned said 
+nought, some not knowing the prophecies, and some 
+knowing them but deeming it perilous to speak; 
+then said Mardonius himself: * Since, therefore, 
+you either have no knowledge or are afraid to declare 
+it, hear what I tell you out of the full knowledge 
+that I have. There is an oracle that Persians are 
+fated to come to Hellas and there all perish after 
+they have plundered the temple at Delphi. We, 
+therefore, knowing this same oracle, will neither 
+approach that temple nor essay to plunder it; and in 
+so far as destruction hangs on that, none awaits us. 
+Wherefore as many of you as wish the Persians well 
+may rejoice for that, as knowing that we shall over- 
+come the Greeks." Having thus spoken he gave 
+command to have all prepared and set in fair order 
+for the battle that should be joined at the next day's 
+dawn. 
+
+43. Now for this prophecy, which Mardonius said 
+was spoken of the Persians, I know it to have been 
+made concerning not them but the Illyrians and the 
+
+
+211 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+’ , \ 
+οὐκ ἐς Πέρσας. ἀλλὰ τὰ μὲν Βάκιδι ἐς ταύτην 
+\ 
+τὴν μάχην ἐστὶ πεποιημένα, 
+
+
+| τὴν δ᾽ ἐπὶ Θερμώδοντι καὶ ACOTO λεχεποίῃ 
+Ἑλλήνων. σύνοδον καὶ βαρβαρόφωνον i ἰυγῆν, 
+τῇ πολλοὶ πεσέονται ὑπὲρ λάχεσίν τε μόρον TE 
+τοξοφόρων Μήδων, ὅταν αἴσιμον ἧμαρ ἐπέλθῃ, 
+
+
+^ N N / ΄ 5 
+ταῦτα μὲν καὶ παραπλήσια τούτοισι ἄλλα Mov- 
+5 / e , 
+σαίῳ ἔχοντα οἶδα ἐς Πέρσας. ὁ δὲ Θερμώδων 
+ποταμὸς ῥέει μεταξὺ Tavaypns τε καὶ Γλίσαντος. 
+44, Μετὰ δὲ τὴν ἐπειρώτησιν τῶν χρησμῶν καὶ 
+παραίνεσιν τὴν ἐκ Μαρδονίου νύξ τε ἐγίνετο καὶ 
+ἐς φυλακὰς ἐτάσσοντο. ὡς δὲ πρόσω τῆς νυκτὸς 
+προελήλατο καὶ ἡσυχίη ἐδόκεε εἶναι ἀνὰ τὰ στρα- 
+τόπεδα καὶ μάλιστα οἱ ἄνθρωποι εἶναι ἐν ὕπνῳ, 
+τηνικαῦτα προσελάσας ἵππῳ πρὸς τὰς φυλακὰς 
+M , f , / e3 ’ / 
+τὰς ᾿Αθηναίων ᾿Αλέξανδρος ὁ ᾽Αμύντεω, στρατηγὸς 
+ἈΝ N \ , 207 ^ 
+τε ἐὼν καὶ βασιλεὺς Μακεδόνων, ἐδίζητο τοῖσι 
+^ , / 3 ^ ^ N , 
+στρατηγοῖσι ἐς λόγους ἐλθεῖν. τῶν δὲ φυλάκων 
+- ΄ e 
+οἱ μὲν πλεῦνες παρέμενον, ot Ò ἔθεον ἐπὶ τοὺς 
+στρατηγούς, ἐλθόντες δὲ ἔλεγον ὡς ἄνθρωπος 
+ἥκοι ἐπ᾽ ἵππου ἐκ τοῦ στρατοπέδου τοῦ Μήδων, 
+ὃς ἄλλο μὲν οὐδὲν παραγυμνοῖ ἔπος, στρατηγοὺς 
+δὲ ὀνομάζων ἐθέλειν φησὶ ἐς λόγους ἐλθεῖν. 
+e ^ / 
+45. O? δὲ ἐπεὶ ταῦτα ἤκουσαν, αὐτίκα εἴποντο 
+, 
+ἐς τὰς φυλακάς: ἀπικομένοισι δὲ ἔλεγε ᾿Αλέ- 
+΄ t ^ 
+ξανδρος τάδε. '' Άνδρες ᾿Αθηναῖοι, παραθήκην 
+^ / A 
+ὑμῖν τὰ ἔπεα τάδε τίθεμαι, ἀπόρρητα ποιεύ- 
+
+
+1 Referring to a legendary expedition of these north- 
+western tribes, directed against Hellas and Delphi in 
+particular. 
+
+2 A little to the N.W. of Thebes. 
+
+
+212 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 43-45 
+
+
+army of the Encheleés.! But there is a prophecy 
+made by Bacis concerning this battle : 
+
+
+By Thermodon's stream and the grassgrown banks 
+of Asopus 
+
+Muster of Greeks for fight, and the ring of a 
+foreigner's war-cry, 
+
+Many a Median archer by death untimely o'er- 
+taken 
+
+There in the battle shall fall when the day of his 
+doom is upon him ; 
+
+
+this prophecy, and others like to it that were 
+made by Musaeus, I know to have been spoken of 
+the Persians. Ας for the river Thermodon, it flows 
+between Tanagra and Glisas.? 
+
+44. After this questioning concerning oracles, and 
+Mardonius’ exhortation, night came on and the 
+armies posted their sentries. Now when the night 
+was far spent and it seemed that all was stil] in the 
+camps and the men wrapt in deepest slumber, at 
+that hour Alexander son of Amyntas, the general 
+and king of the Macedonians, rode up to the 
+Athenian outposts and sought to have speech of 
+their generals. The greater part of the sentries 
+abiding where they were, the rest ran to their 
+generals, and told them that a horseman had ridden 
+in from the Persian camp, imparting no other word 
+save that he would have speech of the generals and 
+called them by their names. 
+
+45. Hearing that, the generals straightway went 
+with the men to the outposts; and when they were 
+come Alexander said to them: “ Men of Athens, I 
+give you this my message in trust as a secret that 
+
+
+213 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+µενος πρὸς μηδένα λέγειν ὑμέας ἄλλον 3 
+Παυσανίην, μή με καὶ διαφθείρητε' οὐ γὰρ ἂν 
+ἔλεγον, εἰ μὴ μεγάλως ἐκηδόμην συναπάσης τῆς 
+Ἑλλάδος. αὐτός τε γὰρ "Ελλην γένος εἰμὶ 
+τὠρχαῖον καὶ ἀντ᾽ ἐλευθέρης δεδουλωμένην οὐκ 
+ἂν ἐθέλοιμι ὁρᾶν τὴν “Ελλάδα. λέγω δὲ ὧν ὅτι 
+Μαρδονίῳ τε καὶ τῇ στρατιὴ τὰ σφάγια οὐ 
+δύναται καταθύμια γενέσθαι" πάλαι γὰρ ἂν 
+ἐμάχεσθε. νῦν δέ οἱ δέδοκται τὰ μὲν σφάγια 
+ἐᾶν χαίρειν, ἅμ ἡμέρη δὲ διαφωσκούσῃ συμβολὴν 
+ποιέεσθαι: καταρρώδηκε γὰρ μὴ πλεῦνες συλ- 
+λεχθῆτε, ὡς ἐγὼ εἰκάξω. πρὸς ταῦτα ἑτοιμά- 
+ζεσθε. ἣν δὲ ἄρα ὑπερβάληται τὴν συμβολὴν 
+Μαρδόνιος καὶ μὴ ποιέηται, λιπαρέετε ,μένοντες" 
+ὀλιγέων γάρ σφι ἡμερέων λείπεται σιτία. ἣν δὲ 
+ὑμῖν ὁ πόλεμος ὅδε κατὰ νόον τελευτήσῃ, pwn- 
+σθῆναι τινὰ χρὴ καὶ ἐμεῦ ἐλευθερώσιος πέρι, ὃς 
+Ἑλλήνων εἵνεκα οὕτω ἔργον παράβολον ἔ ἐργάσμαι 
+ὑπὸ προθυμίης, ἐθέλων ὑμῖν δηλῶσαι τὴν διά- 
+νοιαν τὴν Μαρδονίου, ἵνα μὴ ἐπιπέσωσι ὑμῖν 
+ἐξαίφνης οἱ βάρβαροι μὴ προσδεκοµένοισί κω. 
+εἰμὶ δὲ ᾿Αλέξανδρος ὁ Μακεδών. ὃ μὲν ταῦτα 
+εἴπας ἀπήλαυνε ὀπίσω ἐς τὸ στρατόπεδον καὶ 
+τὴν ἑωυτοῦ τάξιν. 
+
+46. Οἱ δὲ στρατηγοὶ τῶν ᾿Αθηναίων ἐλθόντες 
+ἐπὶ τὸ δεξιὸν κέρας ἔλεγον Παυσανίῃ τά περ 
+ἤκουσαν ᾿Αλεξάνδρου. ὃ δὲ τούτῳ τῷ λόγῳ 
+καταρρωδήσας τοὺς Πέρσας ἔλεγε τάδε. “Ἐπεὶ 
+τοίνυν ἐς ἠῶ ἡ συμβολὴ γίνεται, ὑμέας μὲν χρεόν 
+ἐστι τοὺς ᾿Αθηναίους στῆναι κατὰ τοὺς Πέρσας, 
+ἡμέας δὲ κατὰ τοὺς Βοιωτούς τε καὶ τοὺς κατ᾿ 
+ὑμέας τεταγμένους Ἑλλήνων, τῶνδε εἵνεκα' ὑμεῖς 
+214 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. 45-46 
+
+
+you must reveal to none but Pausanias, lest you even 
+be my undoing; in truth I would not tell it to you 
+were it not by reason of my great care for all Hellas; 
+for I myself am by ancient descent a Greek, and I 
+would not willingly see Hellas change her freedom 
+for slavery. I tell you, then, that Mardonius and 
+his army cannot get from the sacrifices omens to his 
+liking; else had you fought long ere this. But now 
+it is his purpose to pay no heed to the sacrifices, and 
+join battle at the first glimmer of dawn ; for he is in 
+dread, as I surmise, lest you should muster to a greater 
+host. Therefore I bid you make ready ; and if (as 
+may be) Mardonius should delay and not join battle, 
+wait patiently where you are ; for he has but a few 
+days' provision left. But if this war end as you 
+would wish, then must you take thought how to 
+save me too from slavery, who of my zeal have done 
+so desperate a deed as this for the cause of Hellas, 
+in my desire to declare to you Mardonius' intent, that 
+so the foreigners may not fall upon you suddenly ere 
+you yet expect them. I that speak am Alexander 
+the Macedonian." With that he rode away back to 
+the camp and his own place therein. 
+
+46. The Athenian generals went to the right wing 
+and told Pausanias what they had heard from Alex- 
+ander. At the message Pausanias was struck with 
+fear of the Persians, and said: “Since, therefore, 
+the battle is to begin at dawn, it is best that you 
+Athenians should take your stand fronting the Per- 
+sians, and we fronting the Boeotians and the Greeks 
+that are posted over against you, by reason that you 
+
+
+215 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐπίστασθε τοὺς λ]ήδους καὶ τὴν μάχην αὐτῶν ἐν 
+Μαραθῶνι μαχεσάμενοι, ἡμεῖς δὲ ἄπειροί τε εἰμὲν 
+καὶ ἀδαέες τούτων τῶν ἀνδρῶν" Σπαρτιητέων γὰρ 
+οὐδεὶς πεπείρηται Μήδων" ἡμεῖς δὲ Βοιωτῶν καὶ 
+Θεσσαλῶν € ἔμπειροι εἰμέν. ἀλλ᾽ ἀναλαβόντας τὰ 
+ὅπλα χρεόν ἐστι ἰέναι ὑμέας μὲν ἐς τόδε τὸ κέρας, 
+ἡμέας δὲ ἐς τὸ εὐώνυμον. πρὸς δὲ ταῦτα εἶπαν 
+οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι τάδε. “' Καὶ αὐτοῖσι ἡμῖν πάλαι an 
+ἀρχῆς; ἐπείτε εἴδομεν κατ᾽ ὑμέας τασσομένους 
+τοὺς Πέρσας, ἐν νόῳ ἐγένετο εἰπεῖν ταῦτα τά περ 
+ὑμεῖς φθάντες προφέρετε: ἀλλὰ ἀρρωδέομεν μὴ 
+ὑμῖν οὐκ ἡδέες γένωνται οἱ λόγοι. ἐπεὶ δ᾽ ὧν 
+αὐτοὶ ἐμνήσθητε, καὶ ἡδομένοισι ἡμῖν οὗ λόγοι 
+[4 M e, b ^ b 
+
+γεγόνασι καὶ ἕτοιμοι εἰμὲν ποιέειν ταῦτα. 
+
+4T. Ὡς & ἤρεσκε ἀμφοτέροισι ταῦτα, ἠώς τε 
+διέφαινε καὶ διαλλάσσοντο τὰς τάξις. γνόντες 
+δὲ οἱ Βοιωτ τοὶ τὸ ποιεύμενον. ἐξαγορεύουσι Map- 
+δονίῳ. ὃ Ò ἐπείτε ἤκουσε, αὐτίκα μετιστάναι καὶ 
+αὐτὸς ἐπειρᾶτο, παράγων τοὺς Πέρσας κατὰ 
+τοὺς Λακεδαιμονίους. ὡς δὲ ἔμαθε τοῦτο τοιοῦτο 
+γινόμενον Ò Παυσανίης, γνοὺς ὅτι, οὐ λανθάνει, 
+ὀπίσω ἦγε τοὺς Σπαρτιήτας ἐπὶ τὸ δεξιὸν κέρας 
+ὣς δὲ οὕτως καὶ ὁ Μαρδόνιος € ἐπὶ τοῦ εὐωνύμου. 
+
+48. ᾿Επεὶ δὲ κατέστησαν ἐς τὰς ἀρχαίας τάξις, 
+πέμψας ὁ Μαρδόνιος κήρυκα ἐς τοὺς Σπαρτιήτας 
+ἔλεγε ταδε, Ὁ Λακεδαιμόνιοι, Ù ὑμεῖς δὴ λέγεσθε 
+εἶναι ἄνδρες ἄριστοι, ὑπὸ τῶν τῇδε ἀνθρώπων, 
+ἐκπαγλεομένων ὡς οὔτε φεύγετε ἐκ πολέμου οὔτε 
+Taw ἐκλείπετε, μένοντές τε a ἀπόλλυτε τοὺς 
+ἐναντίους ) αὐτοὶ ἀπόλλυσθε. τῶν δ᾽ ἄρ᾽ ἣν οὐδὲν 
+ἀληθές: πρὶν γὰρ ἢ συμμῖξαι ἡμέας ἐς χειρῶν τε 
+νόμον ἀπικέσθαι, καὶ δὴ φεύγοντας καὶ στάσιν 
+216 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. 46-48 
+
+
+have fought with the Medes at Marathon and know 
+them and their manner of fighting, but we have no 
+experience or knowledge of those men ; we Spartans 
+have experience of the Boeotians and Thessalians, 
+but not one of us has put the Medes to the test. 
+Nay, let us take up our equipment and remove, you 
+to this wing and we to the left." “We, too," the 
+Athenians answered, “ even from the moment when 
+we saw the Persians posted over against you, had it 
+in mind to make that proffer that now has first come 
+from you; but we feared lest we should displease 
+you by making it. But since you have spoken the 
+wish yourselves, we too hear your words very gladly 
+and are ready to do as you say." 
+
+47. Both being satisfied with this, they exchanged 
+their places in the ranks at the first light of dawn. 
+The Boeotians marked that and made it known to 
+Mardonius; who, when he heard, forthwith essayed 
+to make a change for himself also, by moving the 
+Persians along to front the Lacedaemonians. But 
+when Pausanias perceived what was this that was 
+being done, he saw that his act was known, and led 
+the Spartans back to the right wing; and Mardonius 
+did in like manner on the left of his army. 
+
+48. When all were at their former posts again, 
+Mardonius sent a herald to the Lacedaemonians 
+with this message: “ Men of Lacedaemon, you are 
+said by the people of these parts to be very brave 
+men; it is their boast of you that you neither flee 
+from the field nor leave your post, but abide there 
+and either slay your enemies or are yourselves slain. 
+But it would seem that in all this there is no truth ; 
+for ere we can join battle and fight hand to hand, 
+we have seen you even now fleeing and leaving your 
+
+
+217 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐκλείποντας ὑμέας εἴδομεν, ἐν ᾿Αθηναίοισί τε τὴν 
+πρόπειραν ποιευμένους αὐτούς τε ἀντία δούλων 
+τῶν ἡμετέρων τασσομένους. ταῦτα οὐδαμῶς 
+ἀνδρῶν ἀγαθῶν ἔργα, ἀλλὰ πλεῖστον δὴ ἐν ὑμῖν 
+ἐγ εύσθημεν. προσδεκόµενοι γὰρ κατὰ κλέος ὡς 
+δὴ πέμψετε ἐς ἡμέας κήρυκα προκαλεύμενοι καὶ 
+βουλόμενοι μούνοισι Πέρσῃσι. μάχεσθαι, ἄρτιοι 
+ἐόντες ποιέειν ταῦτα οὐδὲν τοιοῦτο λέγοντας ὑμέας 
+εὕρομεν ἀλλὰ πτώσσοντας μᾶλλον. νῦν ὧν ἐπειδὴ 
+οὐκ ὑμεῖς ἤρξατε τούτου τοῦ λόγου, ἀλλ, ἡμεῖς 
+ἄρ ρχομεν. τί δὴ οὐ πρὸ μὲν τῶν Ἑλλήνων ὑμεῖς, 
+ἐπείτε δεδόξωσθε εἶναι ἄριστοι, πρὸ δὲ τῶν Bap- 
+βάρων ἡμεῖς ἴσοι πρὸς ἴσους ἀριθμὸν ἐμαχεσάμεθα; 
+καὶ ἦν μὲν δοκέῃ καὶ τοὺς ἄλλους μάχεσθαι, οἱ Ò 
+ὧν μετέπειτα μαχέσθων ὕ ὕστεροι εἰ | δὲ καὶ μὴ δοκέοι 
+ἀλλ᾽ ἡμέας μούνους ἀποχρᾶν, ἡμεῖς δὲ διαμαχε- 
+σώμεθα: ὁκότεροι ὃ ἂν ἡμέων νικήσωσι, τούτους 
+τῷ ἅπαντι στρατοπέδῳ νικᾶν. 
+
+49. no μὲν ταῦτα εἴπας τε καὶ ἐπισχὼν χρόνον, 
+ὥς οἱ οὐδεὶς οὐδὲν ὑπεκρίνατο, ἀπαλλάσσετο 
+ὀπίσω, ἀπελθὼν δὲ ἐσήμαινε Μαρδονίῳ τὰ κατα- 
+λαβόντα. ὃ δὲ περιχαρὴς γενόμενος καὶ έπαερ- 
+θεὶς ψυχρῇ νίκη ἐπῆκε τὴν ἵππον ἐπὶ τοὺς 
+“Ελληνας. ὡς δὲ ἐπήλασαν οἱ ἱππόται, ἐσίνοντο 
+πᾶσαν τὴν στρατιὴν τὴν Ελληνικὴν ἐσακοντί- 
+ξοντές τε καὶ τοξεύοντες ὥστε ἱπποτοξόται τε 
+ἐόντες καὶ προσφέρεσθαι ἄποροι: τήν τε κρήνην 
+τὴν Γαργαφίην, ἀπ᾽ ἧς ὑδρεύετο πᾶν τὸ στράτευμα 
+τὸ Ἑλληνικόν, συνετάραξαν καὶ συνέχωσαν. ἦσαν 
+μὲν ὧν κατὰ τὴν κρήνην Λακεδαιμόνιοι τεταγμένοι 
+μοῦνοι, τοῖσι δὲ ἄλλοισι Ἕλλησι 7 μὲν κρήνη 
+
+
+πρόσω ἐγίνετο, ὡς ἕκαστοι ἔτυχον τεταγμένοι, 0 
+219 
+
+
+3) 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. 48-49 
+
+
+station, using Athenians for the first assay of your 
+enemy, and arraying yourselves over against those 
+that are but our slaves. This is no brave men's 
+work; nay, we have been grievously mistaken in 
+you; for by what we heard of you, we looked that 
+you should send us a herald challenging the Persians 
+and none other to fight with you; and that we were 
+ready to do; but we find you making no such profter, 
+but rather quailing before us. Now, therefore, since 
+the challenge comes not from you, take it from us 
+instead. What hinders that we should fight with 
+equal numbers on both sides, you for the Greeks 
+(since you have the name of being their best), and 
+we for the foreigners? and if it be willed that 
+the others fight also, let them fight later after us; 
+but if contrariwise it be willed that we alone suffice, 
+then let us fight it out, and which side soever 
+wins, let that serve as a victory for the whole 
+army." 
+
+49. Thus proclaimed the herald ; and when he had 
+waited awhile and none made him any answer, he 
+departed back again, and at his return told Mardonius 
+what had befallen him. Mardonius was overjoyed 
+thereat and proud of this semblance of victory, and 
+sent his cavalry to attack the Greeks. The horse- 
+men rode at them and shot arrows and javelins 
+among the whole Greek army to its great hurt, 
+inasmuch as they were mounted archers and ill to 
+close with; and they troubled and choked the 
+Gargaphian spring, whence all the army of the 
+Greeks drew its water. None indeed but the Lace- 
+daemonians were posted near the spring, and it was 
+far from the several stations of the other Greeks, 
+
+
+219 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δὲ ᾿Ασωπὸς ἀγχοῦ" ἐρυκόμενοι δὲ τοῦ ᾿Ασωποῦ 
+οὕτω δὴ ἐπὶ τὴν. κρήνην ἐφοίτων" ἀπὸ τοῦ πο- 
+ταμοῦ γάρ σφι οὐκ ἐξῆν ὕδωρ φορέεσθαι ὑπό τε 
+τῶν ἱππέων καὶ τοξευμάτων. 
+
+50. Τούτου δὲ τοιούτου γινομένου οἱ τῶν Ελ- 
+λήνων στρατηγοί, ἅτε τοῦ τε ὕδατος στερηθείσης 
+
+^ ^ N e N A “ ΄ 
+τῆς στρατιῆς καὶ ὑπὸ τῆς ἵππου ταρασσομένης, 
+συνελέχθησαν περὶ αὐτῶν τε τούτων καὶ ἄλλων, 
+ἐλθόντες παρὰ Παυσανίην ἐπὶ τὸ δεξιὸν κέρας. 
+ἄλλα γὰρ. τούτων τοιούτων ἐόντων μᾶλλον σφέας 
+ἐλύπες" οὔτε γὰρ σιτία εἶχον ἔτι, οἵ τε σφέων 
+ὀπέωνες ἀποπεμφθέντες ἐς Πελοπόννησον ὡς 
+ἐπισιτιεύμενοι ἀπεκεκληίατο ὑπὸ τῆς ἵππου, οὐ 
+δυνάμενοι ἀπικέσθαι ἐς τὸ στρατόπεδον. 
+
+51. Βουλευομένοισι δὲ τοῖσι στρατηγοῖσι ἔδοξε, 
+ἣν ὑπερβάλωνται ἐκείνην τὴν ἡμέρην οἱ Πέρσαι 
+συμβολὴν ποιεύμενοι, ἐς τὴν νῆσον ἰέναι. ἣ δὲ 
+ἐστὶ ἀπὸ τοῦ ᾿Ασωποῦ καὶ τῆς κρήνης τῆς lap- 
+γαφίης, em 7) ἐστρατοπεξεύοντο τότε, δέκα στα- 
+δίους ἀπέχουσα, πρὸ τῆς Πλαταιέων πόλιος. 
+νῆσος δὲ οὕτω ἂν εἴη, ἐν ἠπείρῳ' σχιξόμενος ὁ 
+ποταμὸς ἄνωθεν ἐκ τοῦ Κιθαιρῶνος ῥέει κάτω ἐς 
+τὸ πεδίον, διέχων ἀπ’ ἀλλήλων τὰ ῥέεθρα ὅσον 
+περ τρία στάδια, καὶ ἔπειτα συμμίσγει ἐς τὠυτό. 
+οὔνομα δέ οἱ ᾿Ωερόη' θυγατέρα δὲ ταύτην λέγουσι 
+εἶναι ᾿Ασωποῦ οἱ ἐπιχώριοι. ἐς τοῦτον δὴ τὸν 
+χῶρον ἐβουλεύσαντο μεταναστῆναι, ἵνα καὶ ὕδατι 
+ἔχωσι χρᾶσθαι ἀφθόνῳ καὶ οἱ ἱππέες σφέας μὴ 
+
+
+1 Several streams flow N. or N.W. from Cithaeron, and 
+unite eventually to form the small river Oéroé Between 
+two of these there is a long strip of land, which is perhaps 
+
+
+220 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. 49-51 
+
+
+whereas the Asopus was near; but they would ever 
+go to the spring, because they were barred from the 
+Asopus, not being able to draw water from that 
+river by reason of the horsemen and the arrows. 
+
+50. In this turn of affairs, seeing that their army 
+was cut off from water and disordered by the horse- 
+men, the generals of the Greeks betook themselves 
+to Pausanias on the right wing, and debated concern- 
+ing this and other matters; for there were other 
+causes that troubled them more than what I have 
+told; they had no food left, and their followers 
+whom they had sent into the Peloponnese to bring 
+provision thence had been cut off by the horsemen, 
+and could not make their way to the army. 
+
+51. So they resolved in their council that if the 
+Persians delayed through that day to give battle, 
+they would go to the Island.! "This is ten furlongs 
+distant from the Asopus and the Gargaphian spring, 
+whereby their army then lay, and in front of the town 
+of Plataeae. It is like to an island on dry land, by 
+reason that the river in its course down from Cithaeron 
+into the plain is parted into two channels, and there 
+is about three furlongs' space between till presently 
+the two channels unite again ; and the name of that 
+river is Oéroé, who (say the people of the country) 
+was the daughter of Asopus. Το that place then 
+they planned to remove, that they might have water 
+in plenty for their use, and not be harmed by the 
+the νῆσος; but it is not now actually surrounded by water, 
+as Herodotus describes it. 
+
+
+For some notice of controversy about the battlefield of 
+Plataeae, see the Introduction to this volume. 
+
+
+221 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+σινοίατο ὥσπερ κατιθὺ ἐόντων" μετακινέεσθαί τε 
+ἐδόκεε τότε ἐπεὰν τῆς νυκτὸς 7) δευτέρη φυλακή, 
+ὡς ἂν μὴ ἰδοίατο οἱ Πέρσαι. ἐξορμωμένους καί 
+σφεας ἑ ἑπόμενοι ταράσσοιεν οἱ ἱππόται. ἀπικομέ- 
+νων δὲ ἐς τὸν χῶρον τοῦτον, τὸν δὴ ἡ ᾿Ασωπὶς 
+Ώερόη περισχίζεται ῥέουσα ἐκ τοῦ Κιθαιρῶνος, 
+ὑπὸ τὴν νύκτα ταύτην ἐδόκεε τοὺς ἡμίσεας ἀπο- 
+στέλλειν τοῦ στρατοπέδου πρὸς τὸν Κιθαιρῶνα, 
+ὡς ἀναλάβοιεν τοὺς ὀπέωνας τοὺς ἐπὶ τὰ σιτία 
+οἰχομένους ἦσαν γὰρ ἐν τῷ Κιθαιρῶνι ἀπολε- 
+λαμμένοι. 
+
+52. Ταῦτα βουλευσάμενοι κείνην μὲν «τὴν 
+ἡμέρην πᾶσαν προσκειμένης τῆς ἵππου εἶχον 
+πόνον ἄτρυτον' ὡς δὲ j τε ἡμέρη. ἔληγε καὶ οἱ 
+ἱππέες ἐπέπαυντο, νυκτὸς δὴ γινομένης καὶ ἐούσης 
+τῆς ὥρης ἐς τὴν συνέκειτὀ σφι ἀπαλλάσσεσθαι, 
+ἐνθαῦτα ἀερθέντες᾽ οὗ πολλοὶ ἀπαλλάσσοντο, ἐς 
+μὲν τὸν χῶρον ἐς τὸν συνέκειτο οὐκ ἐν νόῳ ἔχοντες, 
+οἳ δὲ ὡς ἐκινήθησαν ἔφευγον ἄσμενοι τὴν ἵππον 
+πρὸς τὴν Πλαταιέων πόλιν, φεύγοντες δὲ ἀπικνέον- 
+ται ἐπὶ τὸ "Ἠραιον' τὸ δὲ πρὸ τῆς πόλιος ἐστὶ τῆς 
+Πλαταιέων, εἴκοσι σταδίους ἀπὸ τῆς κρήνης τῆς 
+Γαργαφίης ἀπέχον: ἀπικόμενοι δὲ ἔθεντο πρὸ τοῦ 
+ἱροῦ τὰ ὅπλα. 
+
+53. Ναὶ oi μὲν περὶ τὸ "Ηραιον ἐστρατοπε- 
+δεύοντο, Παυσανίης δὲ ὁρῶν σφεας ἀπαλλασσο- 
+μένους ἐκ τοῦ στρατοπέδου παρήγγελλε καὶ τοῖσι 
+Λακεδαιμονίοισι ἀναλαβόντας τὰ ὅπλα ἰέναι κατὰ 
+τοὺς ἄλλους τοὺς προϊόντας, νομίσας αὐτοὺς ἐς 
+τὸν χῶρον ῥέναι ἐς τὸν συνεθήκαντο. ἐνθαῦτα οἱ 
+μὲν ἄλλοι ἄρτιοι ἦσαν τῶν ταξιάρχων πείθεσθαι 
+Παυσανίῃ, ᾿Αμομϕφάρετος δὲ ὁ Πολιάδεω λοχη- 
+222 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 51-53 
+
+
+horsemen, as now when they were face to face ; and 
+they resolved to make their removal in the second 
+watch of the night, lest the Persians should see 
+them setting forth and the horsemen press after them 
+and disorder their array. Further, they resolved 
+that when they were come to that place, which is 
+encircled by the divided channels of Asopus' daughter 
+Οδτοῦ as she flows from Cithaeron, they would in 
+that night send half of their army to Cithaeron, to 
+fetch away their followers who were gone to get the 
+provision; for these were cut off from them on 
+Cithaeron. 
+
+52. Having formed this design, all that day they 
+suffered unending hardship from the cavalry that 
+continually beset them; but when the day ended 
+and the horsemen ceased from troubling, then at 
+that hour of the night whereat it was agreed that 
+they should depart the most of them arose and took 
+their departure, not with intent to go to the place 
+whereon they had agreed ; instead of that, once they 
+were afoot they got quit to their great content of the 
+horsemen, and escaped to the town of Plataeae, and 
+came in their flight to the temple of Here which is 
+without that town, twenty furlongs distant from 
+the Gargaphian spring; thither they came, and piled 
+their arms before the temple. 
+
+53. So they encamped about the temple of Here. 
+But Pausanias, seeing their departure from the camp, 
+gave orders to the Lacedaemonians to take up their 
+arms likewise and follow after the others that went 
+before, supposing that these were making for the 
+place whither they had agreed to go. "Thereupon, 
+all the rest of the captains being ready to obey 
+Pausanias, Amompharetus son of Poliades, the leader 
+
+
+223 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+/ ^ / / » 3 ` , 
+γέων τοῦ Πιτανητέων λόχου οὐκ ἔφη τοὺς ξείνους 
+, δὲ 4 N 5 5 ’ Ν v [4 
+φεύξεσθαι οὐδὲ ἑκὼν εἶναι αἰσχυνέειν τὴν Xráp- 
+
+€ / N ΄ e 
+την, ἐθώμαζέ τε ὁρέων τὸ ποιεύμενον ἅτε οὐ Tapa- 
+^ / 4 e , 
+γενόμενος τῷ προτέρῳ λόγω. ὁ δὲ Παυσανίης τε 
+e N ^ N / 
+καὶ ὁ Πὐρυάναξ δεινὸν μὲν ἐποιεῦντο τὸ μὴ Tei- 
+e , ^ ’ Ô / 8 » ’ 
+εσθαι ἐκεῖνον σφίσι, δεινότερον δὲ ἔτι, κείνου 
+-.» ^ M / N 
+ταῦτ ἀναινομένου, ἀπολιπεῖν τὸν λόχον τον 11ι- 
+\ » 7 A Ν 
+τανήτην, μὴ ἣν ἀπολίπωσι ποιεῦντες τὰ συνεθη- 
+^ [4 
+«avro τοῖσι ἄλλοισι Ἰλλησι, ἀπόληται ὑπολει- 
+, ^ 
+φθεὶς αὐτός Te ᾽Αμομϕάρετος καὶ οἱ μετ᾽ αὐτοῦ. 
+^ 7 ’ 5 N [4 
+ταῦτα λογιξόμενοι ἀτρέμας εἶχον τὸ στρατόπεδον 
+^ / / 
+τὸ Λακωνικόν, καὶ ἐπειρῶντο πεἰθοντές μιν ὡς οὐ 
+χρεὸν εἴη ταῦτα ποιέειν. 
+D / , A 
+54. Kal o? μὲν παρηγόρεον ᾽᾿Αμομϕάρετον μοῦ- 
+/ N / / 
+νον Λακεδαιμονίων τε καὶ Τεγεητέων λελειμμένον, 
+Αθ ^ Ò A AS) / LO 5 , / / 
+ηναῖοι δὲ ἐποίευν τοιάδε' εἶχον ἀτρέμας σφέας 
+αὐτοὺς ἵνα ἐτάχθησαν, ἐπιστάμενοι τὰ Λακεδαι- 
+/ / / . ή 
+μονίων φρονήματα ὡς ἄλλα φρονεόντων καὶ ἄλλα 
+, e 7 \ / 
+λεγόντων: ὡς δὲ ἐκινήθη τὸ στρατόπεδον, ἔπεμ- 
+’ e / 5 , ’ , ΄ 
+πον σφέων ἱππέα ὀψόμενον τε εἰ πορεύεσθαι ἐπι- 
+/ ^ 
+χειρέοιεν οἱ Σπαρτιῆται, etre καὶ τὸ παράπαν μὴ 
+^ , L4 , / 
+διανοεῦνται ἀπαλλάσσεσθαι, ἐπειρέσθαι τε IIav- 
+L4 
+σανίην τὸ χρεὸν εἴη ποιέειν. 
+[2 / M ^ 
+55. 'Os δὲ ἀπίκετο ὁ κῆρυξ és τοὺς Λακεδαιμο- 
+/ er / A A , 
+vious, ὥρα τε σφέας κατὰ χώρην τεταγμένους Kal 
+’ ^ ν ΄ e 
+ἐς νείκεα ἀπιγμένους αὐτῶν τοὺς πρώτους. ὡς 
+\ \ \ 3 ο 
+yàp δὴ παρηγορέοντο τὸν ᾿Αμομϕφάρετον 6 τε 
+ο / N 
+Εὐρυάναξ καὶ ὁ Παυσανίης μὴ κινδυνεύειν μένον- 
+/ p e 
+τας μούνους Λακεδαιμονίων, oU κως ἔπειθον, ἐς ὃ 
+234 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 53-55 
+
+
+of the Pitanate! battalion, refused to flee from the 
+strangers or (save by compulsion) bring shame on 
+Sparta; the whole business seemed strange to him, 
+for he had not been present in the council lately 
+held. Pausanias and Euryanax liked little enough 
+that Amompharetus should disobey them; but they 
+misliked yet more that his refusing should compel 
+them to abandon the Pitanate battalion; for they 
+feared that if they fulfilled their agreement with the 
+rest ofthe Greeks and abandoned him, Amompharetus 
+and his men would be left behind to perish. Thus 
+considering, they held the Laconian army unmoved, 
+and strove to persuade Amompharetus that he did 
+not aright. 
+
+54. So they reasoned with Amompharetus, he 
+being the only man left behind of all the Lacedae- 
+monians and Tegeans. Ας for the Athenians, they 
+stood unmoved at their post, well knowing that the 
+purposes and the promises of Lacedaemonians were 
+not alike. But when the army removed from its 
+place, they sent a horseman of their own who should 
+see if the Spartans were essaying to march or if 
+they were wholly without any purpose of departure, 
+and should ask Pausanias withal what the Athenians 
+must do. 
+
+55. When the messenger was come to the Lacedae- 
+monians, he saw them arrayed where they had been, 
+and their chief men by now in hot dispute. For 
+though Euryanax and Pausanias reasoned with Amom- 
+pharetus, that the Lacedaemonians should not be 
+imperilied by abiding there alone, they could in no 
+
+1 Thucydides (1. 20) denies the existence of a Πιτανάτης 
+
+
+λόχος as a formal part of the Spartan army; it is not clear 
+what Herodotus means. For l'itana v. iii. 55. 
+
+
+225 
+VOL. IV. 1 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐς νείκεά τε συμπεσόντες ἀπίκατο καὶ ὁ κῆρυξ τῶν 
+3 / , / H / / δὲ 
+Αθηναίων παρἰστατὀ σφι ἀπιγμένος. νεικέων δὲ 
+2 ΄ , / 2 ΄ - 
+
+ὁ Αμομϕάρετος λαμβάνει πέτρον ἀμφοτέρῃσι τῆσι 
+
+N b ^ E / 
+
+χερσὶ καὶ τιθεὶς πρὸ ποδῶν τῶν Παυσανίεω ταύτῃ 
+- / ΄ \ / ` / 
+
+τῇ ψήφῳ ψηφίζεσθαι ἔφη μὴ φεύγειν τοὺς ξείνους, 
+
+N a \ / N 
+λέγων τοὺς βαρβάρους. ὃ δὲ μαινόμενον καὶ οὐ 
+φρενήρεα καλέων ἐκεῖνον, πρὸς τε τὸν ᾿Αθηναῖον 
+^ / / 
+κήρυκα ἐπειρωτῶντα τὰ ἐντεταλμένα λέγειν ὁ 
+’ / A / 
+Παυσανίης ἐκέλευε τὰ παρεόντα σφι πρήγματα, 
+- / ^ / 
+ἐχρήιζέ τε τῶν ᾿Αθηναίων προσχωρῆσαί τε πρὸς 
+^ / 
+ἑωυτοὺς καὶ ποιέειν περὶ τῆς ἀπόδου τά περ ἂν 
+καὶ σφεῖς. 
+^ N N55 
+56. Καὶ ὃ μὲν ἀπαλλάσσετο ἐς τοὺς Αθηναίους" 
+τοὺς δὲ ἐπεὶ ἀνακρινομένους πρὸς ἑωυτοὺς ἠὼς 
+, 3 , ^ , / e 
+κατελάμβανε, ἐν τούτῳ τῷ χρόνῳ κατήμενος ὁ 
+΄ 3 / N > 
+Παυσανίης, οὐ δοκέων τὸν ᾿Αμομϕάρετον λείψε- 
+^ / 
+σθαι τῶν ἄλλων Λακεδαιμονίων ἀποστειχόντων, τὰ 
+’ / ^ \ ^ ^ 
+δὴ καὶ ἐγένετο, σημήνας ἀπῆγε διὰ τῶν κολωνῶν 
+\ / [rd A ^ 
+τοὺς λοιποὺς πάντας' εἵποντο δὲ kai Τεγεῆται. 
+j ^ / ND D 
+᾿Αθηναῖοι δὲ ταχθέντες ἤισαν τὰ ἔμπαλιν ἢ Aare- 
+/ A N ^ 9 9 / 
+δαιµόνιοι' οἳ μὲν yap τῶν τε ὄχθων ἀντείχοντο 
+^ [d / ^ r A / \ 
+καὶ τῆς ὑπωρέης τοῦ Κιθαιρῶνος φοβεόμενοι τὴν 
+e/ , ^ δὲ , / , A 
+ἵππον, Αθηναῖοι δὲ κάτω τραφθέντε ἐς τὸ 
+πεδίον. 
+
+57. ᾽Αμομϕάρετος δὲ ἀρχήν γε οὐδαμὰ δοκέων 
+Παυσανίην τολμήσειν σφέας ἀπολιπεῖν, περιεί- 
+χετο αὐτοῦ μένοντας μὴ ἐκλιπεῖν τὴν τάξιν" προ- 
+
+- / / 
+τερεόντων δὲ τῶν σὺν Παυσανίη, καταδόξας αὐτοὺς 
+, Z / 5 / 3 r , / ~ 
+ἰθέῃ τέχνῃ ἀπολείπειν αὐτόν, ἀναλαβόντα TOV 
+226 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 55-57 
+
+
+wise prevail with him; and at the last, when the 
+Athenian messenger came among them, hot words 
+began to pass; and in this wrangling Amonipharetus 
+took up a stone with both bands and cast it down 
+before Pausanias' feet, crying that it was his pebble 
+wherewith he voted against fleeing from the strangers 
+(meaning thereby the foreigners) Pausanias called 
+him a madman and distraught; then the Athenian 
+messenger putting the question wherewith he was 
+charged, he bade the man tell the Athenians of his 
+present eondition, and prayed them to join themselves 
+to the Laeedaemonians and do as they did in respect 
+of departure. 
+
+56. Sothe messenger went back to the Athenians. 
+But when dawn found the dispute still continuing, 
+Pausanias having all this time held his army halted, 
+now gave the word and led all the rest away 
+between the hillocks, the Tegeans following; for 
+he supposed that Amompharetus would not stay 
+behind when the rest of the Lacedaemonians left 
+him; and indeed such was the event. The 
+Athenians set themselves in array and marched, 
+but not by the same way as the Lacedaemonians, 
+who clung close to the broken ground and the 
+lower slopes of Cithaeron, to escape from the Persian 
+horse, but the Athenians marched down into the 
+plain instead. 
+
+57. Now Amompharetus at first supposed that 
+Pausanias would never have the heart to leave him 
+and his men, and he was instant that they should 
+remain where they were and not quit their post; 
+but when Pausanias men went forward on their 
+way, he deemed that they had left him in good 
+earnest, and so bidding his battalion take up its 
+
+
+227 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+λόχον τὰ ὅπλα ἦγε βάδην πρὸς τὸ ἄλλο στῖφος: 
+τὸ δὲ ἀπελθὸν 000v τε δέκα στάδια ἀνέμενε τὸν 
+᾽Ἀμομϕαρέτου λόχον, περὶ ποταμὸν Μολόεντα 
+ἱδρυμένον ᾿Αργιόπιόν τε χῶρον καλεόμενον, τῇ 
+καὶ Δήμητρος ᾿Βλευσινίης ἱρὸν ἧσται. ἀνέμενε 
+δὲ τοῦδε εἵνεκα, ἵνα ἣν μὴ ἀπολείπῃ τὸν χῶρον 
+ἐν τῷ ἐτετάχατο ὁ ᾽Αμομϕάρετός τε καὶ ὃ λόχος, 
+ἀλλ αὐτοῦ μένωσι, βοηθέοι ὀπίσω παρ᾽ ἐκείνους. 
+καὶ οὗ τε ἀμφὶ τὸν Αμομφάρετον παρεγίνοντὀ σφι 
+καὶ ἡ ἵππος ἡ τῶν βαρβάρων προσέκειτο πᾶσα. 
+οἱ -γὰρ ἱππόται ἐποίευν οἷον καὶ ἐώθεσαν ποιέειν 
+αἰεί, ἰδόντες δὲ τὸν χῶρον κεινὸν ἐν τῷ ἐτετάχατο 
+οἱ "Έλληνες τῇσι προτέρῃσι ἡμέρῃσι, ἤλαυνον τοὺς 
+ἵππους αἰεὶ τὸ πρόσω καὶ ἅμα καταλαβόντες 
+προσεκέατό σφι. 
+
+58. Μαρδόνιος δὲ ὡς ἐπύθετο τοὺς Ελληνας 
+ἀποιχομένους ὑπὸ νύκτα εἶδέ τε τὸν χῶρον ἔρημον, 
+καλέσας TOV Ληρισαῖον Θώρηκα καὶ τοὺς ἆδελ- 
+φεοὺς αὐτοῦ Εὐρύπυλον καὶ Θρασυδήιον ἔλεγε 
+me παῖδες ᾿Αλεύεω, ἔτι τί λέξετε τάδε ὁρῶντες 
+ἔρημα; ; ὑμεῖς γὰρ οἱ πλησιόχωροι ἐλέγετε Aare- 
+αιμονίους οὐ φεύγειν € ἐκ μάχης, ἀλλὰ ἄνδρας εἶναι 
+τὰ πολέμια πρώτους: τοὺς πρότερόν τε µετιστα- 
+μένους ἐκ τῆς τάξιος εἴδετε, νῦν τε ὑπὸ τὴν παροι- 
+χομένην νύκτα καὶ οἱ πάντες ὁρῶμεν διαδράντας' 
+διέδεξάν τε, ἐπεί σφεας ἔδεε πρὸς τοὺς -ἀψευδέως 
+ἀρίστους ἀνθρώπων μάχῃ διακριθῆναι, ὅ ὅτι οὐδένες 
+ἆρα ἐόντες ἐν οὐδαμοῖσι ἐοῦσι" Ελλησι ἐναπέδει- 
+κνύατο. καὶ ὑμῖν μὲν ἐοῦσι Περσέων ἀπείροισι 
+πολλὴ Εκ ye ἐμεῦ ἐγίνετο συγγνώμη, ἐπαινεόντων 
+τούτους τοῖσί τι καὶ συνῃδέατε' ᾿Αρταβάξου δὲ 
+
+
+θῶμα καὶ μᾶλλον ἐποιεύμην τὸ καὶ καταρρωδῆσαι 
+228 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 57-58 
+
+
+arms he led it at a foot’s pace after the rest of the 
+column; which having gone as far as ten furlongs 
+away was waiting for Amompharctus, halting by 
+the stream Molois and the place called Argiopium, 
+where is set a shrine of Eleusinian Demeter. The 
+reason of their waiting was that, if Amompharetus 
+and his battalion should not leave the place where 
+it was posted but abide there still, they might return 
+and succour him. No sooner had Amompharetus’ 
+men come up than the foreigners’ cavalry attacked 
+the army; for the horsemen did according as they 
+had ever been wont, and when they saw no enemy 
+on the ground where the Greek array had been on 
+the days before this, they rode ever forward and 
+attacked the Greeks as soon as they overtook them. 
+
+58. When Mardonius learnt that the Greeks had 
+departed under cover of night, and saw the ground 
+deserted, he called to him Thorax of Larissa and 
+his brothers Eurypylus and Thrasydeius, and said: 
+* What will you now say, sons of Aleuas! when you 
+see this place deserted? for you, who are their 
+neighbours, ever told me that Lacedaemonians fled 
+from no battlefield and were surpassing masters of 
+war; yet these same men you lately saw changing 
+from their post, and now you and all of us see that 
+they have fled away in the night that is past ; no 
+sooner must they measure themselves in battle with 
+those that are in very truth the bravest on earth, 
+than they plainly showed that they are men of no 
+account, and all other Greeks likewise. Now you 
+for your part were strangers to the Persians, and I 
+could readily pardon you for praising these fellows, 
+who were in some sort known to you; but I mar- 
+velled much more at Artabazus, that he should be 
+
+
+229 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Λακεδαιμονίους καταρρωδήσαντά τε ἀποδέξασθαι 
+γνώμην δειλοτάτην, ὡς χρεὸν εἴη ἀναξεύξαντας τὸ 
+στρατόπεδον i ἰέναι ἐς τὸ Θηβαίων à ἄστυ πολιορκη- 
+σοµένους' τὴν ἔτι πρὸς ἐμεῦ βασιλεὺς πεύσεται. 
+καὶ τούτων μὲν ἑτέρωθι ἔσται λόγος. νῦν δὲ ἐκεί- 
+νοισι ταῦτα ποιεῦσι οὐκ ἐπιτρεπτέα ἐστί, ἀλλὰ 
+διωκτέοι εἰσὶ ἐς ὃ καταλαμφθέντες δώσουσι ἡμῖν 
+τῶν δὴ ἐποίησαν Πέρσας πάντων δίκας." 
+
+59. Ταῦτα εἴπας ἦγε τοὺς Πέρσας δρόμῳ δια- 
+Bavtas τὸν ᾿Ἀσωπὸν κατὰ στίβον τῶν Ελλήνων 
+ὡς δὴ ἀποδιδρησκόντων, ἐπεῖχέ τε ἐπὶ Λακεδαιμο- 
+vious τε καὶ Teyentas μούνους’ ᾿Αθηναίους γὰρ 
+τραπομένους ἐς τὸ πεδίον ὑπὸ τῶν ὄχθων οὐ 
+κατώρα. Πέρσας δὲ ὁρῶντες ὁρμημένους διώκειν 
+τοὺς “Ελληνας οἱ λοιποὶ τῶν βαρβαρικῶν τελέων 
+ἄρχοντες αὐτίκα πάντες Ἴειραν τὰ σημήια, καὶ 
+ἐδίωκον ὡς ποδῶν ἕκαστοι εἶχον, οὔτε κόσμῳ 
+οὐδενὶ κοσμηθέντες οὔτε τάξι. 
+
+60. Καὶ οὗτοι μὲν βοῇ τε καὶ ὁμίλῳ ἐπήισαν 
+ὡς ἀναρπασόμενοι τοὺς Έλληνας Παυσανίης δέ, 
+ὡς προσέκειτο ἡ ἵππος, πέμψας πρὸς τοὺς ᾿Αθη- 
+ναίους ἱππέα λέγει τάδε. “«"Ανδρες ᾿Αθηναῖοι, 
+ἀγῶνος μεγίστου προκειμένου ἐλευθέρην εἶναι ἢ 
+δεδουλωμένην τὴν Ἑλλάδα, προδεδόµεθα Ú ὑπὸ τῶν 
+συμμάχων ἡμεῖς τε οἱ Λακεδαιμόνιοι καὶ ὑμεῖς οἱ 
+᾿Αθηναῖοι ὑπὸ τὴν παροιχομένην νύκτα διαδράν- 
+των. νῦν ὧν δέδοκται τὸ ἐνθεῦτεν τὸ ποιητέον 
+ἡμῖν" ἀμυνομένους γὰρ τῇ δυνάμεθα ἄριστα περι- 
+στέλλειν ἀλλήλους. εἰ μὲν νυν ἐς ὑμέας ὅρμησε 
+ἀρχὴν 7) ἵππος, χρῆν δὴ ἡμέας τε καὶ τοὺς μετ᾽ 
+ἡμέων τὴν Ἑλλάδα où .προδιδόντας Τεγεήτας 
+βοηθέειν ὑμῖν: νῦν δέ, ἐς ἡμέας γὰρ ἅπασα κεχώ- 
+230 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 58-60 
+
+
+so sore affrighted by the Lacedaemonians as to give 
+us a craven's advice to strike our camp, and march 
+away to be beleaguered in Thebes; of which advice 
+the king shall yet learn from me. This shall be 
+matter for speech elsewhere; but now, we must not 
+suffer our enemies to do as they desire; they must 
+be pursued till they be overtaken and pay the 
+penalty for all the harm they have wrought the 
+Persians." 
+
+59. With that, he led the Persians at speed across 
+the Asopus in pursuit of the Greeks, supposing that 
+they were in flight; it was the army of Lacedaemon 
+and Tegeaalonethat was his goal; for the Athenians 
+marched another way over the broken ground, and 
+were out of his sight. Seeing the Persians sctting 
+forth in pursuit of the Greeks, therest of the foreign 
+battalions straightway raised their standards and 
+pursued likewise, each at the top of his speed, no 
+battalion having order in its ranks nor place assigned 
+in the line. 
+
+60. So they ran pell-mell and shouting, as though 
+they would utterly make an end of the Greeks; but 
+Pausanias, when the cavalry attacked him, sent a 
+horseman to the Athenians, with this message: 
+* Men of Athens, in this great issue which must 
+give freedom or slavery to Hellas, we Lacedaemonians 
+and you Athenians have been betrayed by the flight 
+of our allies in the night that is past. Now there- 
+fore I am resolved what we must forthwith do; we 
+must protect each other by fighting as best we can. If 
+the cavalry had attacked you first, it had been for us 
+and the Tegeans with us, who are faithful to Hellas, 
+to succour you; but now, seeing that the whole 
+
+
+231 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ρήκε, δίκαιοι ἐστὲ ὑμεῖς πρὸς τὴν πιεζομένην 
+μάλιστα τῶν μοιρέων ἀμυνέοντες ἰέναι. εἰ δ᾽ ἄρα 
+αὐτοὺς ὑμέας καταλελάβηκε ἀδύνατόν τι βοηθέειν, 
+ὑμεῖς ὃ ἡμῖν τοὺς τοξότας -ἀποπέμψαντες χάριν 
+θέσθε. συνοίδαμεν δὲ ὑμῖν ὑπὸ τὸν παρεόντα 
+τόνδε πόλεμον ἐοῦσι πολλὸν προθυμοτάτοισι, 
+ὥστε καὶ ταῦτα ἐσακούειν.᾽ 
+
+61. Ταῦτα οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι ὡς ἐπύθοντο, ὁρμέατο 
+Βοηθέειν καὶ τὰ μάλιστα ἐπαμύνειν" καί σφι ἤδη 
+στείχουσι ἐπιτίθενται οἱ ἀντιταχθέντες Ἑλλή- 
+νων τῶν μετὰ βασιλέος γενομένων, ὥστε μηκέτι 
+δύνασθαι βοηθῆσαι τὸ γὰρ προσκείμενον σφέας 
+ἐλύπεε. οὕτω δὴ μουνωθέντες Λακεδαιμόνιοι καὶ 
+Τεγεῆται, ἐόντες σὺν ψιλοῖσι ἀριθμὸν οἳ μὲν 
+πεντακισμύριοι Τεγεῆται δὲ τρισχίλιοι (οὗτοι γὰρ 
+οὐδαμὰ ἀπεσχίξοντο ἀπὸ Λακεδαιμονίων), έσφα- 
+γιάξοντο ὡς συμβαλέοντες Μαρδονίῳ καὶ τῇ 
+στρατιῇ τῇ παρεούσῃ. καὶ οὐ γάρ σφι ἐγίνετο τὰ 
+σφάγια χρηστά, ἔπιπτον δὲ αὐτῶν ἐν τούτω τῷ 
+χρόνῳ πολλοὶ καὶ πολλῷ πλεῦνες ἐτρωματίζοντο" 
+φράξαντες γὰρ τὰ γέρρα οἱ Πέρσαι ἀπίεσαν τῶν 
+τοξευμάτων πολλὰ ἀφειδέως, οὕτω ὥστε πιεζο- 
+μένων τῶν Σπαρτιητέων καὶ τῶν σφαγίων οὐ γινο- 
+μένων ἀποβλέψαντα τὸν Παυσανίην πρὸς τὸ 
+“"Ἡραιον τὸ ]]Γλαταιέων ἐπικαλέσασθαι τὴν θεόν, 
+χρηίξοντα μηδαμῶς σφέας ψευσθῆναι τῆς 
+ἐλπίδος. 
+
+62. Ταῦτα δ ἔτι τούτου ἐπικαλεομένου προεξ- 
+αναστάντες πρότεροι οἱ Τεγεῆται ἐχώρεον ἐς τοὺς 
+BapBupovs, καὶ τοῖσι Λακεδαιμονίοισι αὐτίκα 
+
+
+232 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 6ο-62 
+
+
+brunt of their assault falls on us, it is right that you 
+should come to the aid of that division which is 
+hardest pressed. But if, as may be, aught has 
+befallen you whereby it is impossible that you should 
+aid us, yet do us the service of sending us your 
+archers. We are assured that you will hearken to us, 
+as knowing that you have been by far more zcalous 
+than all others in this present war." 
+
+61. When the Athenians heard that, they essayed 
+to succour the Lacedaemonians and defend them 
+with all their might; but when their march was 
+already begun they were set upon by the Greeks 
+posted over against them, who had joined tbem- 
+selves to the king; wherefore they could now send 
+no aid, being troubled by the foe that was closest. 
+Thus it was that the Lacedaemonians and Tegeans 
+stood alone; men-at-arms and light-armed together, 
+there were of the Lacedaemonians fifty thousand 
+and of the Tegeans, who had never been parted 
+from the Lacedaemonians, three thousand; and 
+they offered sacrifice, the better to join battle with 
+Mardonius and the army that was with him. But 
+as they could get no favourable omen from their 
+sacrifices, and in the meanwhile many of them were 
+slain and by far more wounded (for the Persians set 
+up their shields for a fence, and shot showers of 
+arrows innumerable), it was so, that, the Spartans 
+being hard pressed and their sacrifices of no avail, 
+Pausanias lifted up his eyes to the temple of Here 
+at Plataeae and called on the goddess, praying that 
+they might nowise be disappointed of their hope. 
+
+62. While he yet prayed, the men of Tegea leapt 
+out before the rest and charged the foreigners; and 
+immediately after Pausanias' prayer the sacrifices of 
+
+
+233 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μετὰ τὴν εὐχὴν τὴν, Παυσανίεω ἐγίνετο θυομένοισι 
+τὰ σφάγια χρηστά: ὡς δὲ χρόνῳ κοτὲ ἐγένετο, 
+ἐχώρεον καὶ οὗτοι ἐπὶ τοὺς Πέρσας, καὶ οἱ Πέρσαι 
+ἀντίοι τὰ τόξα μετέντες. ἐγίνετο δὲ πρῶτον περὶ 
+Tà yéppa μάχη. ὡς δὲ ταῦτα ἐπεπτώκεε, ἤδη 
+ἐγίνετο, 7) μάχη ἰσχυρὴ παρ᾽ αὐτὸ τὸ Δημήτριον 
+καὶ χρόνον ἐπὶ πολλόν, ἐς ὃ ἀπίκοντο ἐς ὠθισμόν: 
+τὰ γὰρ δόρατα ἐπιλαμβανόμενοι κατέκλων οἱ 
+βάρβαροι. λήματι μέν νυν καὶ ῥώμῃ οὐκ ἥσσονες 
+ἦσαν οὗ Πέρσαι, ἄνοπλοι δὲ ἐόντες καὶ πρὸς 
+ἀνεπιστήμονες ἦσαν καὶ οὐκ ὅμοιοι τοῖσι ἐναν- 
+τίοισι σοφίην, προεξαΐσσοντες δὲ κατ ἕνα καὶ 
+δέκα, καὶ πλεῦνές τε καὶ ἐλάσσονες συστρεφό- 
+μενοι, ἐσέπιπτον ἐς τοὺς Σπαρτιήτας καὶ διε- 
+φθείροντο. 
+
+63. Τῇ δὲ ἐτύγχανε αὐτὸς ἐὼν Μαρδόνιος, d ἀπ᾽ 
+ἵππου τε μαχόμενος λευκοῦ ἔχων τε περὶ ἑωυτὸν 
+λογάδας Περσέων τοὺς ἀρίστους. χιλίους, ταύτῃ 
+δὲ καὶ μάλιστα τοὺς ἐναντίους ἐπίεσαν. ὅσον μέν 
+νυν χρόνον Μαρδόνιος περιῆν, οἳ δὲ ἀντεῖχον καὶ 
+ἀμυνόμενοι κατέβαλλον πολλοὺς τῶν Λακεδαιμο- 
+vicv' ὡς δὲ Μαρδόνιος: ἀπέθανε καὶ τὸ περὶ ἐκεῖνον 
+τετάγμενον ἐὸν ἰσχυρότατον ἔπεσε, οὕτω δὴ καὶ 
+οἱ ἄλλοι ἐτράποντο καὶ εἶξαν τοῖσι Λακεδαιμο- 
+νίοισι. πλεῖστον γὰρ σφέας ἐδηλέετο 7) ἐσθὴς 
+ἔρημος ἐοῦσα ὅπλων: πρὸς γὰρ ὁπλίτας ἐόντες 
+γυμνῆτες ἀγῶνα ἐποιεῦντο. 
+
+64. ᾿Ενθαῦτα ἥ τε δίκη τοῦ Λεωνίδεω κατὰ τὸ 
+χρηστήριον τοῖσι Σπαρτιήτῃσι ἐκ Μαρδονίου 
+ἐπετελέετο, καὶ νίκην ἀναιρέεται καλλίστην TA- 
+σέων τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν Παυσανίης Ó Κλεομβρότου 
+τοῦ ᾿Αναξανδρίδεω' τῶν δὲ κατύπερθέ οἱ προγό- 
+234 
+
+
+ΒΟΟΚ ΙΧ. 62-64 
+
+
+the Lacedaemonians grew to be favourable ; which 
+being at last vouchsafed to them, they too charged 
+the Persians, and the Persians met them, throwing 
+away their bows. And first they fought for the 
+fence of shields ; and when that was down, there- 
+after the battle waxed fierce and long about the 
+temple of Demeter itself, till they grappled and 
+thrust; for the foreigners laid hold of the spears 
+and broke them short. Now the Persians were 
+neither the less valorous nor the weaker; but they 
+had no armour, and moreover they were unskilled 
+and no match for their adversaries in craft; they 
+would rush out singly and in tens or in groups great 
+or small, hurling themselves on the Spartans and so 
+perishing. 
+
+63. Where Mardonius was himself, riding a white 
+horse in the battle and surrounded by a thousand 
+picked men who were the flower of the Persians, 
+there they pressed their adversaries hardest. So 
+long as Mardonius was alive the Persians stood their 
+ground and defended themselves, overthrowing 
+many Lacedaemonians; but when Mardonius was 
+slain and his guards, who were the strongest part 
+of the army, fallen likewise, then the rest too yielded 
+and gave ground before the men of Lacedaemon. 
+For what chiefly wrought them harm was that they 
+wore no armour over their raiment, and fought as it 
+were naked against men fully armed. 
+
+64. On that day the Spartans gained from Mar- 
+donius their full measure of vengeance for the 
+slaying of Leonidas, according to the oracle, and 
+the most glorious of victories ever known to men 
+was won by Pausanias, the son of Cleombrotus, who 
+was the son of Anaxandrides. (I have named the 
+
+
+235 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+νων τὰ οὐνόματα εἴρηται ἐς Λεωνίδην: ὡντοὶ γάρ 
+σφι τυγχάνουσι ἐόντες. ἀποθνήσκει δὲ Mapé6o- 
+νιος ὑπὸ ᾿Αειμνήστου ἀνδρὸς ἐν Σπάρτῃ λογίμου, 
+ὃς χρόνῳ ὕστερον μετὰ τὰ Μηδικὰ ἔχων ἄνδρας 
+τριηκοσίους συνέβαλε ἐν Στενυκλήρῳ πολέμου 
+ἐόντος Μεσσηνίοισι πᾶσι, καὶ αὐτός τε ἀπέθανε 
+καὶ οἱ τριηκόσιοι. 
+
+65. Ἐν δὲ Πλαταιῆσι οἱ Πέρσαι ὡς ἐτράποντο 
+ὑπὸ τῶν Λακεδαιμονίων, ἔφευγον οὐδένα κόσμον 
+ἐς τὸ στρατόπεδον τὸ ἑωυτῶν καὶ ἐς τὸ τεῖχος τὸ 
+ξύλινον τὸ ἐποιήσαντο ἐν μοίρῃ τῇ Θηβαΐδι. 
+θῶμα δέ μοι ὅκως παρὰ τῆς Δήμητρος τὸ ἄλσος 
+μαχομένων οὐδὲ εἷς ἐφάνη τῶν Περσέων οὔτε 
+ἐσελθὼν ἐς τὸ τέμενος οὔτε ἐναποθανών, περί τε 
+τὸ ἱρὸν οἱ πλεῖστοι ἐν τῷ βεβήλῳ ἔπεσον. δοκέω 
+δέ, εἴ τι περὶ τῶν θείων πρηγμάτων δοκέειν δεῖ, ἡ 
+θεὸς αὐτή σφεας οὐκ ἐδέκετο ἐμπρήσαντας τὸ ἱρὸν 
+τὸ ἐν ᾿Ελευσῖνι ἀνάκτορον. 
+
+66. Αὕτη μέν νυν ἡ μάχη ἐπὶ τοσοῦτο ἐγένετο. 
+᾿Αρτάβαξος δὲ ὁ Φαρνάκεος αὐτίκα τε οὐκ 
+
+ἠρέσκετο κατ᾽ ἀρχὰς λειπομένου Μαρδονίου ἀπὸ 
+βασιλέος, καὶ τότε πολλὰ ἀπαγορεύων οὐδὲν ἤνυε, 
+συμβάλλειν οὐκ ἐῶν" ἐποίησέ τε αὐτὸς τοιάδε ὡς 
+οὐκ ἀρεσκόμενος τοῖσι πρήγμασι. τοῖσι ἐκ Μαρ- 
+δονίου ποιευμένοισι. τῶν ἐστρατήγεε ὁ ᾿Αρτάβα- 
+ξος (εἶχε δὲ δύναμιν οὐκ ὀλίγην ἀλλὰ καὶ ἐς 
+τέσσερας μυριάδας ἀνθρώπων περὶ ἑωυτόν), τού- 
+τους, ὅκως ἡ συμβολὴ ἐγίνετο, εὖ -ἐξεπιστάμενος 
+τὰ ἔμελλε ἀποβήσεσθαι ἀπὸ τῆς μάχης, ἦγε 
+κατηρτημένως, παραγγείλας κατὰ τὠυτὸ ἰέναι 
+πάντας τῇ ἂν αὐτὸς ἐξηγέηται, ὅκως ἂν αὐτὸν 
+ὁρῶσι σπουδῆς ἔχοντα. ταῦτα παραγγείλας ὡς 
+230 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. 64-66 
+
+
+rest of Pausanias ancestors in the lineage of 
+Leonidas; for they are the same for both.) As for 
+Mardonius, he was slain by Aeimnestus, a Spartan 
+of note; who long after the Persian business did in 
+time of war lead three hundred men to battle at 
+Stenyclerus against the whole army of Messenia, 
+and was there slain, he and his three hundred. 
+
+65. But at Plataeae, the Persians being routed by 
+the Lacedaemonians fled in disorder to their own 
+camp and within the wooden walls that they had 
+made in the lands of Thebes. And herein is a 
+marvellous thing, that though the battle was hard 
+by the grove of Demeter there was no sign that any 
+Persian had been slain in the precinct, or entered 
+into it; most of them fell near the temple in uncon- 
+secrated ground ; and I judge—if it be not a sin to 
+judge of the ways of heaven—that the goddess 
+herself denied them entry, for that they had burnt 
+her temple, the shrine at Eleusis. 
+
+66. Thus far then went this battle. But Arta- 
+bazus son of Pharnaces had from the very first 
+misliked the king's leaving Mardonius, and now all 
+his counselling not to join battle had been of no 
+avail; and in his displeasure at what Mardonius was 
+doing he himself did as I will show. He had with 
+him a great army, even as many as forty thousand 
+men; knowing well what would be the event of the 
+battle, no sooner had the Greeks and Persians met 
+than he led these with purpose fixed, bidding them 
+follow him all together whither he should lead them, 
+according to whatsoever they should see to be his 
+intent; and with that command he made pretence 
+
+
+237 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐς μάχην ἦγε δῆθεν τὸν στρατόν. προτερέων δὲ 
+τῆς ὁδοῦ ὥρα καὶ δὴ φεύγοντας τοὺς IIépcas: 
+οὕτω δὴ οὐκέτι τὸν αὐτὸν κόσμον κατηγέετο, ἀλλὰ 
+τὴν ταχίστην ἐτρόχαξε φεύγων οὔτε es. τὸ ξύλινον 
+οὔτε ἐς τὸ Θηβαίων τεῖχος ἀλλ᾽ ἐς Φωκέας, 
+ἐθέλων ὡς τάχιστα ἐπὶ τὸν “Ελλήσποντον 
+ἀπικέσθαι. 
+
+67. Καὶ δὴ οὗτοι μὲν ταύτῃ ἐτράποντο' τῶν 
+δὲ ἄλλων Ελλήνων τῶν μετὰ βασιλέος ἐθελοκα- 
+κεόντων Βοιωτοὶ ᾿Αθηναίοισι ἐμαχέσαντο χρόνον 
+ἐπὶ συχνόν. οἱ γὰρ μηδίξοντες τῶν Θηβαίων, 
+οὗτοι εἶχον προθυμίην οὐκ ὀλίγην μαχόμενοί τε 
+καὶ οὐκ. ἐθελοκακέοντες, οὕτω ὥστε τριηκόσιοι 
+αὐτῶν οἱ πρῶτοι καὶ ἄριστοι ἐνθαῦτα ἔπεσον ὑπὸ 
+᾿Αθηναίων. ὡς δὲ ἐτράποντο καὶ οὗτοι, ἔφευγον 
+ἐς τὰς Θήβας, οὐ τῇ περ οἱ Πέρσαι καὶ τῶν 
+ἄλλων συμμάχων ὁ πᾶς ὅμιλος, οὔτε διαµαχεσά- 
+μενος οὐδενὶ οὔτε τι ἀποδεξάμενος, ἔφευγον. 
+
+68. Δηλοῖ τέ μοι. ὅτι πάντα τὰ πρήγματα τῶν 
+βαρβάρων i ἤρτητο ἐκ Περσέων, εἰ καὶ τότε οὗτοι 
+πρὶν ) καὶ συμμῖξαι τοῖσι πολεμίοισι ἔφευγον, ὃ ὅτι 
+καὶ τοὺς Πέρσας ὥρων. οὕτω τε πάντες ἔφευγον 
+πλὴν τῆς ἵππου τῆς τε ἄλλης καὶ τῆς Βοιωτίης' 
+αὕτη δὲ τοσαῦτα προσωφέλεε τοὺς φεύγοντας, 
+αἰεί τε πρὸς τῶν πολεμίων ἄγχιστα ἐοῦσα 
+ἀπέργουσά τε τοὺς φιλίους φεύγοντας ἀπὸ τῶν 
+Ἑλλήνων. 
+
+69. Oi μὲν δὴ νικῶντες εἵποντο τοὺς Ξέρξεω 
+διώκοντές τε καὶ φονεύοντες. ἐν δὲ τούτῳ τῷ 
+γινομένῳ φόβῳ ἀγγέλλεται τοῖσι ἄλλοισι΄ ΄Ελλησι 
+τοῖσι πεταγμένοισι. περὶ τὸ “Πραιον καὶ ἀπο- 
+γενομένοισι τῆς μάχης, ὅτι μάχη τε γέγονε καὶ 
+238 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 66-69 
+
+
+of leading them to battle. But as he came farther 
+on his way he saw the Persians already fleeing; 
+whereat he led his men no longer in the same 
+array, but took to his heels and fled with all speed 
+not to the wooden fort nor to the walled city of 
+Thebes, but to Phocis, that so he might make his 
+way with all despatch to the Hellespont. 
+
+67. So Artabazus and his army turned that way. 
+All the rest of the Greeks that were on the king’s 
+side fought of set purpose ill; but not so the 
+Boeotians; they fought for a long time against the 
+Athenians. For those Thebans that took the Persian 
+part showed no small zeal in the battle, and had 
+no will to fight slackly, insomuch that three hundred 
+of their first and best were there slain by the 
+Athenians. But at last the Boeotians too yielded ; 
+and they fled to Thebes, not by the way that the 
+Persians had fled and all the multitude of the allies, 
+a multitude that had fought no fight to the end nor 
+achieved any feat of arms. 
+
+68. This flight of theirs ere they had even closed, 
+because they saw the Persians flee, proves to me 
+that it was on the Persians that all the fortune of 
+the foreigners hung. Thus they all fled, save only 
+the cavalry, Boeotian and other; which did in so far 
+advantage the fleeing men as it kept ever between 
+them and their enemies, and shielded its friends 
+from the Greeks in their flight. 
+
+69. So the Greeks followed in victory after Xerxes’ 
+men, pursuing and slaying. In this rout that grew 
+apace there came a message to the rest of the 
+Greeks, who lay at the temple of Here and had 
+kept away from the fight, that there had been a 
+
+
+239 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+νικῶεν οἱ μετὰ Παυσανίεω' οἳ δὲ ἀκούσαντεν 
+ταῦτα, οὐδένα κόσμον ταχθέντες, οἱ μὲν ἀμφὶ 
+Κορινθίους ἐτράποντο διὰ τῆς ὑπωρέης καὶ τῶν 
+κολωνῶν τὴν φέρουσαν ἄνω ἰθὺ τοῦ ἱροῦ τῆς 
+Δήμητρος, οἱ δὲ ἀμφὶ Μεγαρέας τε καὶ Φλειασίους 
+διὰ τοῦ πεδίου τὴν λειοτάτην τῶν ὁδῶν. ἐπείτε 
+δὲ ἀγχοῦ τῶν πολεμίων ἐγίνοντο οἱ Μεγαρέες καὶ 
+Φλειάσιοι, ἀπιδόντες σφέας οἱ τῶν Θηβαίων 
+ἱππόται ἐπειγομένους οὐδένα κόσμον ἤλαυνον ἐπ᾽ 
+αὐτοὺς τοὺς ἵππους, τῶν ἱππάρχεε ᾿Ἀσωπόδωρος 
+ὁ Τιμάνδρου, ἐσπεσόντες δὲ κατεστύρεσαν αὐτῶν 
+ἑξακοσίους, τοὺς δὲ λοιποὺς κατήραξαν διώκοντες 
+ἐς τὸν Κιθαιρῶνα. 
+
+70. Οὗτοι μὲν δὴ ἐν οὐδενὶ λόγῳ ἀπώλοντο" οἱ 
+δὲ Πέρσαι καὶ ὁ ἄλλος ὅμιλος, ὡς κατέφυγον ἐς 
+τὸ ξύλινον τεῖχος, ἔφθησαν ἐπὶ τοὺς πύργους 
+ἀναβάντες πρὶν ἢ τοὺς Λακεδαιμονίους ἀπικέσθαι, 
+ἀναβάντες δὲ ἐφράξαντο ὡς ἠδυνέατο ἄριστα τὸ 
+τεῖχος" προσελθόντων δὲ τῶν Λακεδαιμονίων 
+κατεστήκεέ σφι τειχομαχίη ἐρρωμενεστέρη. ἕως 
+μὲν γὰρ ἀπῆσαν οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι, ot Ò ἠμύνοντο καὶ 
+πολλῷ πλέον εἶχον τῶν Λακεδαιμονίων ἆ ὥστε οὐκ 
+ἐπισταμένων τειχομαχέειν' ὡς δέ σφι ᾿Αθηναῖοι 
+προσῆλθον, οὕτω δὴ ἰσχυρὴ ἐγίνετο τειχομαχίη 
+καὶ χρόνον ἐπὶ πολλόν. τέλος δὲ ἀρετῇ τε καὶ 
+Ἀυπαρίῃ ἐπέβησαν ᾿Αθηναῖοι τοῦ τείχεος καὶ 
+ἤριπον' τῇ δὴ ἐσεχέοντο οἱ Ἕλληνες. πρῶτοι δὲ 
+ἐσῆλθον Τεγεῆται ἐς τὸ τεῖχος, καὶ τὴν σκηνὴν 
+τὴν Μαρδονίου οὗτοι ἦσαν οἱ διαρπάσαντες, τά τε 
+ἄλλα ἐξ αὐτῆς καὶ τὴν φάτνην τῶν ἵππων ἐοῦσαν 
+χαλκέην πᾶσαν καὶ θέης ἀξίην. τὴν μέν νυν 
+
+
+240 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 69-70 
+
+
+battle and that Pausanias men were victorious; 
+which when they heard, they set forth in no ordered 
+array, they that were with the Corinthians keeping 
+to the spurs of the mountain and the hill country, 
+by the road that led upward straight to the temple 
+of Demeter, and they that were with the Megarians 
+and Phliasians following the levelest way over the 
+plain. But when the Megarians and _ Phliasians 
+were come near to the enemy, the Theban horsemen 
+(whose captain was Asopodorus son of ‘Timander) 
+espied them approaching in haste and disorder, and 
+rode at them ; by which onfall they laid six hundred 
+of them low, and pursued and swept the rest to 
+Cithaeron. 
+
+70. So these perished, none regarding them. But 
+when the Persians and the rest of the multitude had 
+fled within the wooden wall, they made a shift to 
+get them up on the towers before the coming of the 
+Lacedaemonians, which done they strengthened the 
+wall as best they could; and when the Athenians 
+were now arrived there began a stiff battle for the 
+wall. For as long as the Athenians were not there, 
+the foreigners defended themselves, and had greatly 
+the advantage of the Lacedaemonians, they having 
+no skill in the assault of walls; but when the 
+Athenians came up, the fight for the wall waxed 
+hot and continued long. But at the last the 
+Athenians did by valour and steadfast endeavour 
+scale the wall and breach it, by which breach the 
+Greeks poured in; the first to enter were the 
+Tegeans, and it was they who plundered the tent 
+of Mardonius, taking from it beside all else the 
+manger of his horses, that was all of bronze and a 
+thing worth the beholding. The Tegeans dedicated 
+
+
+241 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+φάτνην ταύτην τὴν Μαρδονίου ἀνέθεσαν ἐς τὸν 
+νηὸν τῆς ᾿Αλέης ᾿Αθηναίης Τεγεῆται, τὰ δὲ ἄλλα 
+ἐς T@UTO, ὅσα περ ἔλαβον, ἐσήνεικαν τοῖσι 
+"Ἕλλησι. οἱ δὲ βάρβαροι οὐδὲν ἔτι στῖφος 
+ἐποιήσαντο πεσόντος τοῦ τείχεος, οὐδέ τις αὐτῶν 
+ἀλκῆς ἐμέμνητο, ἀλύκταζον τε οἷα ἐν ὀλίγῳ χώρῳ 
+πεφοβημένοι τε καὶ πολλαὶ μυριάδες κατειλη- 
+μέναι ἀνθρώπων: παρῆν τε τοῖσι "Ελλησι 
+φονεύειν οὕτω ὥστε τριήκοντα μυριάδων στρατοῦ, 
+καταδεουσέων τεσσέρων τὰς ἔχων ᾿Αρτάβαξος 
+ἔφευγε, τῶν λοιπέων μηδὲ τρεῖς χιλιάδας περι- 
+γενέσθαι. Λακεδαιμονίων δὲ τῶν ἐκ Σπάρτης 
+ἀπέθανον οἱ πάντες ἐν τῇ συμβολῇ εἷς καὶ 
+ἐνενήκοντα, Γεγεητέων δὲ ἑκκαίδεκα, ᾿Αθηναίων 
+δὲ δύο καὶ πεντήκοντα. 
+
+᾿Ηρίστευσε δὲ τῶν βαρβάρων πεξὸς μὲν ὁ 
+Περσέων, ἵππος δὲ ἡ Σακέων, ἀνὴρ δὲ λέγεται 
+Μαρδόνιος" Ἑλλήνων δέ, ἀγαθῶν γενοµένων καὶ 
+Τεγεητέων καὶ ᾿Αθηναίων, ὑπερεβάλοντο ἀρετῇ 
+Λακεδαιμόνιοι. ἄλλῳ μὲν οὐδενὶ ἔχω ἀποση- 
+μήνασθαι (ἅπαντες γὰρ οὗτοι τοὺς κατ᾽ ἑωυτοὺς 
+ἐνίκων), ὅτι δὲ κατὰ τὸ ἰσχυρότερον ,Tpoc- 
+ἠνείχθησαν καὶ τούτων ἐκράτησαν. καὶ ἄριστος 
+ἐγένετο μακρῷ ᾿Αριστόδημος κατὰ γνώμας τὰς 
+ἡμετέρας, ὃς ἐς Θερμοπυλέων μοῦνος τῶν τριη- 
+κοσίων σωθεὶς εἶχε ὄνειδος καὶ ἀτιμίην. μετὰ δὲ 
+τοῦτον ἠρίστευσαν Ποσειδώνιός τε καὶ Φιλοκύων 
+καὶ ᾿Αμομφάρετος ὁ Σπαρτιήτης. καίτοι γενο- 
+μένης λέσχης ὃς γένοιτο αὐτῶν ἄριστος, ἔγνωσαν 
+
+
+! These figures must refer to the ὁπλῖται alone, leaving out 
+of account the Laconian περίοικοι and the rest of the light- 
+
+
+242 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. 7o-71 
+
+
+this manger of Mardonius in the temple of Athene 
+Alea; all else that they took they brought into the 
+common stock, as did the rest of the Greeks. Ας 
+for the foreigners, they drew no more to a head 
+once the wall was down, but they were crazed with 
+panic fear, as men hunted down in a narrow space 
+where many myriads were herded together; and 
+such a slaughter were the Greeks able to make, that 
+of two hundred and sixty thousand, that remained 
+after Artabazus had fled with his forty thousand, 
+scarce three thousand were left alive. Of the 
+Lacedaemonians from Sparta there were slain in 
+the battle ninety-one in all; of the Tegeans, 
+seventeen ; and of the Athenians, fifty-two.1 
+
+71. Among the foreigners they that fought best 
+were the Persian foot and the horse of the Sacae, 
+and of men, it is said, the bravest was Mardonius ; 
+among the Greeks, the Tegeans and Athenians bore 
+themselves gallantly, but the Lacedaemonians ex- 
+celled all in valour. Of this my only clear proof 
+is (for all these vanquished the foes opposed to 
+them) that the Lacedaemonians met the strongest 
+part of the army, and overcame it. According to 
+my judgment, he that bore himself by far the best 
+was Aristodemus, who had been reviled and dis- 
+honoured for being the only man of the three 
+hundred that came alive from Thermopylae ;? and 
+the next after him in valour were Posidonius and 
+Philocyon and Amompharetus. Nevertheless when 
+there was talk, and question who had borne himself 
+
+
+armed troops. Plutarch says that 60,300 Greeks fell at 
+Plataea, 
+2 Op. vii. 231. 
+
+
+243 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+£ 
+οἱ παραγενόμενοι Σπαρτιητέων ᾿Αριστόδημον μὲν 
+^ ^ ^ ΄ 
+βουλόμενον φανερῶς ἀποθανεῖν ἐκ τῆς παρεούσης 
+39. ^ / 
+οἱ αἰτίης, λυσσῶντά τε καὶ ἐκλείποντα τὴν τάξιν 
+ἔργα ἀποδέξασθαι μεγάλα, ΠἩοσειδώνιον δὲ οὐ 
+’ 
+βουλόμενον ἀποθνήσκειν ἄνδρα γενέσθαι ἀγαθόν' 
+7 ^ 5 / ~ ^ 
+τοσούτῳ τοῦτον εἶναι ἀμείνω. ' ἀλλὰ ταῦτα μὲν 
+N , ^ v "e N ` / 
+καὶ φθόνῳ ἂν εἴποιεν: οὗτοι δὲ τοὺς κατέλεξα 
+^ ’ 
+πάντες, πλὴν ᾿Αριστοδήμου, τῶν ἀποθανόντων ἐν 
+΄ - / / , κ ` 
+ταύτῃ τῇ μάχη τίμιοι ἐγένοντο' ᾿Αριστόδημος δὲ 
+/ ^ / 
+βουλόμενος ἀποθανεῖν διὰ τὴν προειρημένην αἰτίην 
+οὐκ ἐτιμήθη. 
+72. Οὗτοι μὲν τῶν ἐν Ι]λαταιῆσι ὀνομαστότατοι 
+» / bd / κ 3 ^ [ή 
+ἐγένοντο. Ιαλλικράτης γὰρ ἔξω τῆς μάχης 
+3 / 3 A 3 N / 3 ~ 7 
+ἀπέθανε, ἐλθὼν ἀνὴρ κάλλιστος ἐς τὸ στρατόπεδον 
+^ ’ [4 / 9 ^ ᾽ ^ 
+τῶν τότε ἱὀλλήνων, οὐ μοῦνον αὐτῶν Λακεδαι- 
+μονίων ἀλλὰ καὶ τῶν ἄλλων Ελλήνων, ὅς, 
+, M , / / / , ^ 
+ἐπειδὴ ἐσφαγιάζετο Παυσανίης, κατήµενος ἐν τῇ 
+4 3 / z \ ΄ ` N 
+τάξι ἐτρωματίσθη τοξεύματι τὰ πλευρά. καὶ δὴ 
+^ ` 3 f a > , / , ΄ / 
+ot μὲν ἐμάχοντο, ὃ δ᾽ ἐξενηνειγμένος ἐδυσθανάτεέ 
+. » A > / » / 
+τε καὶ ἔλεγε πρὸς ᾿Αρίμνηστον ἄνδρα llXaratéa 
+9 / € er x A € / , / 
+οὐ μέλειν οἱ ὅτι πρὸ τῆς Ελλάδος ἀποθνήσκει, 
+DUX er > , ^ ^ . Ne δέ , / 
+ἀλλ ὅτι οὐκ ἐχρήσατο τῇ χειρὶ καὶ ὅτι οὐδέν ἐστί 
+ε ^ 
+οἱ ἀποδεδεγμένον ἔργον ἑωυτοῦ ἄξιον προθυμευ- 
+μένου ἀποδέξασθαι. 
+3 - 
+13. ᾿Αθηναίων δὲ λέγεται εὐδοκιμῆσαι Σωφάνης 
+ὁ Εὐτυχίδεω, ἐκ δήμου Δεκελεῆθεν, Δεκελέων δὲ 
+^ N 
+τῶν κοτὲ ἐργασαμένων ἔργον χρήσιμον ἐς τὸν 
+πάντα χρόνον, ὡς αὐτοὶ ᾿Αθηναῖοι λέγουσι. ὡς 
+γὰρ δὴ τὸ πάλαι κατὰ Ελένης κομιδὴν Τυνδαρίδαι 
+244 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 71-73 
+
+
+most bravely, those Spartans that were there judged 
+that Aristodemus had achieved great feats because 
+by reason of the reproach under which he lay he 
+plainly wished to die, and so pressed forward in 
+frenzy from his post, whereas Posidonius had borne 
+himself well with no desire to die, and must in so 
+far be held the better man. This they may have 
+said of mere jealousy ; but all the aforesaid who 
+were slain in that fight received honour, save only 
+Aristodemus; he, because he desired death by 
+reason of the reproach afore-mentioned, received 
+none. 
+
+12. These won the most renown of all that fought 
+at Plataeae. Callicrates is not among them ; for he 
+died away from the battle, he that, when he came 
+to the army, was the goodliest Lacedaemonian, aye, 
+or Greek, in the Hellas of that day. He, when 
+Pausanias was offering sacrifice, was wounded in 
+the side by an arrow where he sat in his place; 
+and while his comrades were fighting, he was carried 
+out of the battle and died a lingering death, saying 
+to Arimnestus, a Plataean, that it was no grief to 
+him to die for Hellas’ sake; his sorrow was rather 
+that he had struck no blow and achieved no deed 
+worthy of his merit, for all his eager desire so to do. 
+
+73. Of the Athenians, Sophanes son of Euty- 
+chides is said to have won renown, a man of the 
+township of Decelea; that Decelea whose people 
+once did a deed that was for all time serviceable, 
+as the Athenians themselves say. For of old when 
+the sons of Tyndarus strove to win Helen? back and 
+
+
+1 According to legend, the Dioscuri came to recover their 
+sister Helen, who had been carried off to Aphidnae in Attica 
+by Theseus and P'irithous. 
+
+
+245 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+^ > ^ 
+ἐσέβαλον ἐς γῆν τὴν ᾿Αττικὴν σὺν στρατοῦ 
+LA τ C ee ` S > py 
+πλήθεϊ καὶ ἀνίστασαν τοὺς δήμους, οὐκ εἰδότες 
+e7 e / e € / 7 / A 
+iva ὑπεξέκειτο ἡ “Ελένη, τοτε λέγουσι τοὺς 
+e / , / / ^ 
+Δεκελέας, où δὲ αὐτὸν Δέκελον ἀχθόμενόν τε τῇ 
+ε ΄ \ / ^ 
+Onoéos ὕβρι καὶ δειμαίνοντα περὶ πάσῃ τῇ 
+"AG ’ /, , , [4 X ^ 
+ηναίων χώρῃ, ἐξηγησάμενον σφι τὸ πᾶν 
+- ’ ΘΝ \ > / s N 
+πρῆγμα κατηγήσασθαι ἐπὶ τὰς ᾿Ἀφίδνας, τὰς δὴ 
+Τιτακὸς ἐὼν αὐτόχθων καταπροδιδοῖ Γυνδαρίδῃσι. 
+As ΑΝ ^ ~ A 
+τοῖσι δὲ Δεκελεῦσι ἐν Σπάρτῃ ἀπὸ τούτου τοῦ 
+5 5 / A / / 2 / 
+ἔργου ἀτελείη τε καὶ προεδρίη διατελέει ἐς τόδε 
+e^ \ 
+αἰεὶ ἔτι ἐοῦσα, οὕτω ὥστε καὶ ἐς τὸν πόλεμον 
+^ / 
+τὸν ὕστερον πολλοῖσι ἔτεσι τούτων γενόμενον 
+> / / N / z 
+Αθηναίοισί τε καὶ Πελοποννησίοισι, σινοµένων 
+A / / 
+τὴν ἄλλην ᾿Αττικὴν Λακεδαιμονίων, Δεκελέης 
+ἀπέχεσθαι. 
+14. Τούτου τοῦ δήμου ἐὼν ὁ Σωφάνης καὶ 
+
+
+ἀριστεύσας τότε ᾿Αθηναίων διξοὺς λόγους Xeyo- * 
+
+
+μένους ἔχει, τὸν μὲν ὡς ἐκ τοῦ ζωστῆρος τοῦ 
+θώρηκος ἐφόρεε χαλκέῃ ἁλύσι δεδεμένην ἄγκυραν 
+σιδηρέην, τὴν ὅκως πελάσειε ἀπικνεόμενος τοῖσι 
+πολεμίοισι βαλλέσκετο, ἵνα δή μιν οἱ πολέμιοι 
+ἐκπίπτοντες ἐκ τῆς τάξιος μετακινῆσαι μὴ Òu- 
+ναίατο' γινομένης δὲ φυγῆς τῶν ἐναντίων δέδοκτο 
+τὴν ἄγκυραν ἀναλαβόντα οὕτω διώκειν. οὗτος 
+μὲν οὕτω λέγεται, ὁ Ò ἕτερος τῶν λόγων TO 
+πρότερον λεχθέντι ἀμφισβατέων λέγεται, ὡς ἐπ᾿ 
+ἀσπίδος αἰεὶ περιθεούσης καὶ οὐδαμὰ ἀτρεμιζούσης 
+ἐφόρεε ἄγκυραν, καὶ οὐκ ἐκ τοῦ θώρηκος δεδεμένην 
+σιδηρέην. 
+
+246 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 73-74 
+
+
+broke with a great host into Attica, and were 
+turning the townships upside down because they 
+knew not where Helen had been hidden, then (it is 
+said) the Deceleans (and, as some say, Decelus him- 
+self, because he was angered by the pride of Theseus 
+and feared for the whole land of Attica) revealed the 
+whole matter to the sons of Tyndarus, and guided 
+them to Aphidnae, which Titacus, one of the 
+country's oldest stock, betrayed to the Tyndaridae. 
+For that deed the Deceleans have ever had and still 
+have at Sparta freedom from all dues and chief 
+places at feasts, insomuch that even as late as in 
+the war that was waged many years after this time 
+between the Athenians and Peloponnesians, the 
+Lacedaemonians laid no hand on Decelea when they 
+harried the rest of Attica.! 
+
+14. Of that township was Sophanes, who now was 
+the best Athenian fighter in the battle; concerning 
+which, two tales are told. By the first, he bore an 
+anchor of iron made fast to the girdle of his cuirass 
+with a chain of bronze; which anchor he would 
+ever cast whenever he drew nigh to his enemies in 
+onset, that so the enemies as they left their ranks 
+might not avail to move him from his place; and 
+when they were put to flight, it was his plan that he 
+would weigh his anchor and so pursue them. So 
+runs this tale; but the second that is told is at 
+variance with the first, and relates that he bore no 
+anchor of iron made fast to his cuirass, but that his 
+shield, which he ever whirled round and never kept 
+stil], had on it an anchor for device. 
+
+
+1 But in the later part of the Pelopennesian war the 
+Lacedaemonians established themselves at Decelea and held 
+it as a menace to Athens (413 B.c.). 
+
+
+247 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+15. "Eo: δὲ καὶ ἕτερον Σωφάνεϊ λαμπρὸν ἔργον 
+τ 3 , 
+ἐξεργασμένον, ὅτι περικατημένων ᾿Αθηναίων 
+Αἴγιναν Εὐρυβάτην τὸν ' A pyetov ἄνδρα πεντάεθλον 
+3 / Σ d SN δὲ IS / 
+ἐκ προκλήσιος ἐφόνευσε. avTov δὲ Σωφάνεα 
+/ e / / » / 
+χρόνῳ ὕστερον τούτων κατέλαβε ἄνδρα γενόμενον 
+3 / 3 ’ ’ e / 
+ἀγαθόν, ᾿Αθηναίων στρατηγέοντα ἅμα Λεάγρῳ 
+- Ji 3 ^ ε \ 3 ^ 3 if 
+τῷ Γλαύκωνος, ἀποθανεῖν ὑπὸ ᾿Ηδωνῶν ἐν Δάτῳ 
+^ ^ / 
+περὶ τῶν μετάλλων τῶν χρυσέων μαχόμενον. 
+^ / ^ 
+716. Ὡς δὲ τοῖσι "Ελλησι ἐν Πλαταιῆσι κατέ- 
+στρωντο οἱ βάρβαροι, ἐνθαῦτά σφι ἐπῆλθε γυνὴ 
+, , «^ 3 Ν » 3 ’ ` 
+αὐτόμολος: Ù ἐπειδὴ ἔμαθε ἀπολωλότας τοὺς 
+^ 7 ^ 
+Πέρσας καὶ νικῶντας τοὺς "Ελληνας, ἐοῦσα 
+παλλακὴ Φαρανδάτεος τοῦ Τεάσπιος ἀνδρὸς 
+Πέρσεω, κοσμησαμένη χρυσῷ πολλῷ καὶ αὐτὴ 
+M , / . 3 ^ ^ ’ - 
+καὶ ἀμφίπολοι καὶ ἐσθῆτι τῇ καλλίστῃ τῶν 
+παρεουσέων, κειταβᾶσα ἐκ τῆς ἁρμαμάξης ἐχώρεε 
+ἐς τοὺς Λακεδαιμονίους ἔτι ἐν τῆσι φονῇσι ἐόντας, 
+ὁρῶσα δὲ πάντα ἐκεῖνα διέποντα Παυσανίην, 
+’ . 
+πρότερον τε τὸ οὔνομα ἐξεπισταμένη καὶ τὴν 
+/ » 
+πάτρην ὥστε πολλάκις ἀκούσασα, ἔγνω τε τὸν 
+[4 / ^ 
+Παυσανίην καὶ λαβομένη τῶν γουνάτων ἔλεγε 
+3 ^ ^ 
+τάδε. “OQ βασιλεῦ Σπάρτης, ῥῦσαί µε τὴν ἱκέτιν 
+> ΄ / N N . 3 / 
+αἰχμαλώτου δουλοσύνης. σὺ γὰρ καὶ ἐς τόδε 
+ὤνησας, τούσδε ἀπολέσας τοὺς οὔτε δαιμόνων 
+οὔτε θεῶν ὄπιν ἔχοντας. εἰμὶ δὲ γέ ev Ko 
+xovras. εἰμὶ δὲ γένος μὲν Kom, 
+? NV € / ^ [4 , 
+θυγάτηρ δὲ ᾿Ηγητορίδεω τοῦ 'Avra'yópeo: βίη δέ 
+µε λαβὼν ἐν Kô εἶχε ὁ Πέρσης. ὃ δὲ ἀμείβεται 
+S ε Τι’ ΄ οτι Vu NS 
+τοῖσιδε. Γνύναι, θάρσεε καὶ ὡς ἱκέτις καὶ εἰ δὴ 
+` i? ΄ 
+πρὸς τούτῳ τυγχάνεις ἀληθέα λέγουσα καὶ εἷς 
+248 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. 75-76 
+
+
+75. Another famous feat of arms Sophanes 
+achieved: when the Athenians were beleaguering 
+Aegina, he challenged and slew Eurybates the 
+Argive, a victor in the Five Contests. But long 
+after this Sophanes, who had borne himself thus 
+gallantly, came by his death ; being general of the 
+Athenians with Leagrus, son of Glaucon, he was 
+slain at Datus! by the Edonians in a battle for the 
+gold-mines. 
+
+76. Immediately after the Greeks had laid low 
+the foreigners at Plataeae, there came to them a 
+woman, deserting from the enemy, who was the 
+concubine of Pharandates, a Persian, son of Teaspis. 
+She, learning that the Persians were destroyed and 
+the Greeks victorious, decked herself (as did also 
+her attendants) with many gold ornaments and the 
+fairest raiment that she had, and so lighting from 
+her carriage came to the Lacedaemonians while they 
+were yet at the slaughtering ; and seeing Pausanias 
+ordering all that business, whose name and country 
+she knew from her often hearing of it, she knew 
+that it was he, and thus besought him, clasping his 
+knees: “Save me, your suppliant, O king of Sparta ' 
+from captive slavery; for you have done me good 
+service till this hour, by making an end of yonder 
+men, that regard not aught that is divine in heaven 
+or earth. Coan am I by birth, daughter to Hege- 
+torides, son of Antagoras; in Cos the Persian laid 
+violent hands on me and held me prisoner." “ Be of 
+good cheer, lady," Pausanias answered, “ for that 
+you are my suppliant, and for your tale withal, if 
+
+
+1 Τη the attempt to establish an Athenian settlement at 
+Amphipolis in 465 (Thucyd. i. 100, v. 102). Datus was on the 
+Thracian seaboard opposite Thasos, 
+
+
+249 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+θυγάτηρ “Ηγητορίδεω τοῦ Kov, ὃς ἐμοὶ ξεῖνος 
+μάλιστα τυγχάνει ἐὼν τῶν περὶ ἐκείνους τοὺς 
+χώρους οἰκημένων," ταῦτα δὲ εἴπας τότε μὲν 
+ἐπέτρεψε τῶν ἐφόρων τοῖσι παρεοῦσι, ὕστερον 
+δὲ ἀπέπεμψε ἐς Αἴγιναν, ἐς τὴν αὐτὴ ἤθελε 
+ἀπικέσθαι. 
+
+71. Μετὰ δὲ τὴν ἄπιξιν τῆς γυναικός, αὐτίκα 
+μετὰ ταῦτα ἀπίκοντο Μαντινέες ἐπ᾿ ἐξεργα- 
+σμένοισι' μαθόντες δὲ ὅτι ὕστεροι. ἥκουσι τῆς 
+συμβολῆς, συμφορὴν ἐποιεῦντο μεγάλην, ἄξιοί τε 
+ἔφασαν εἶναι σφέας ζημιῶσαι. πυνθανόμενοι δὲ 
+τοὺς Μήδους τοὺς μετὰ ᾿Αρταβάξου φεύγοντας, 
+τούτους ἐδίωκον μέχρι Θεσσαλίης" ΔΔακεδαιμόνιοι 
+δὲ οὐκ ἔων «φεύγοντας διώκειν. ob δὲ ἀναχωρή- 
+σαντες ἐς τὴν ἑωυτῶν τοὺς ἡγεμόνας τῆς στρατιῆς 
+ἐδίωξαν ἐκ τῆς γῆς. μετὰ δὲ Μαντινέας ἧκον 
+᾿Ηλεῖοι, καὶ ὡσαύτως οἱ ᾿Ηλεῖοι τοῖσι Μαντινεῦσι 
+συμφορὴν ποιησάμενοι ἀπαλλάσσοντο' ἀπελ- 
+θόντες δὲ καὶ οὗτοι τοὺς ἡγεμόνας ἐδίωξαν. τὰ 
+κατὰ Μαντινέας μὲν καὶ ᾿Ηλείους τοσαῦτα. 
+
+78. ᾿Εν δὲ Ἡλαταιῇσι ἐν τῷ στρατοπέδῳ τῶν 
+Αἰγινητέων ἣν Λάμπων Πυθέω, Αἰγινητέων ἐὼν 
+τὰ πρῶτα: ὃς ἀνοσιώτατον ἔχων λόγον ἵετο πρὸς 
+Παυσανίην, ἀπικόμενος δὲ σπουδῇ ἔλεγε τάδε. 
+ο πα Κλεομβρότου, ἔργον ἔργασταί τοι 
+ὑπερφυὲς μέγαθὸς τε καὶ κάλλος, καί τοι θεὸς 
+παρέδωκε ῥυσάμενον τὴν “Ελλάδα κλέος kara- 
+θέσθαι μέγιστον Ἑλλήνων τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν. σὺ 
+δὲ καὶ τὰ λοιπὰ τὰ ἐπὶ τούτοισι ποίησον, ὅκως 
+λόγος τε σὲ ἔχῃ ἔτι μέζων καί, τις ὕστερον 
+φυλάσσηται τῶν Βαρβάρων μὴ ὑπάρχειν ἔργα 
+ἀτάσθαλα ποιέων ἐς τοὺς "Ελληνας. Λεωνίδεω 
+250 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 76-78 
+
+
+you be verily daughter to Hegetorides of Cos, for he 
+is my closest friend, of all that dwell in those 
+lands.” Thus saying, he gave her for the nonce in 
+charge to those of the ephors who were present, and 
+thereafter sent her to Aegina, whither she herself 
+desired to go. 
+
+ΤΊ. Immediately after the coming of this woman, 
+came the men of Mantinea, when all was over; who, 
+learning that they were come too late for the battle, 
+were greatly distressed, and said that they deserved 
+to punish themselves therefor. Hearing that the 
+Medes with Artabazus were fleeing, they would have 
+pursued after them as far as Thessaly ; but the Lace- 
+daemonians would not suffer them to pursue fleeing 
+men; and returning to their own land the Man- 
+tineans banished the leaders of their army from the 
+country. Afterthe Mantineans came the men of Elis, 
+who also went away sorrowful in like manner as the 
+Mantineans, and after their departure banished 
+their leaders likewise. Such were the doings of the 
+Mantineans and Eleans. 
+
+78. Now there was at Plataeae in the army of the 
+Aeginetans one Lampon, son of Pytheas, a leading 
+man of Aegina; he sought Pausanias with most un- 
+righteous counsel, and having made haste to come 
+said to him: ** Son of Cleombrotus, you have done a 
+deed of surpassing greatness and glory; by heaven's 
+favour you have saved Hellas, and thereby won 
+greater renown than any Greek known to men. But 
+now you must finish what remains to do, that your 
+fame may be yet the greater, and that no foreigner 
+may hereafter make bold unprovoked to wreak his 
+mad and wicked will on the Greeks. When Leonidas 
+
+
+251 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+yàp ἀποθανόντος ἐν Θερμοπύλῃσι Μαρδόνιός τε 
+καὶ Ξέρξης ἀποταμόντες τὴν κεφαλὴν ἀνεσταύ- 
+porav’ τῷ σὺ τὴν ὁμοίην ἀποδιδοὺς ë ἔπαινον ἕξεις 
+πρῶτα μὲν ὑπὸ πάντων Σπαρτιητέων, αὖτις δὲ 
+καὶ πρὸς τῶν ἄλλων Ἑλλήνων! Μαρδόνιον γὰρ 
+ἀνασκολοπίσας τετιµωρήσεαι ἐς πάτρων τὸν σὸν 
+Λεωνίδην. 
+
+Ὃ μὲν δοκέων χαρίξεσθαι ἔλεγε τάδε, ὃ δ᾽ 
+ἀνταμείβετο τοῖσιδε. “OQ ξεῖνε Λἰγινῆτα, τὸ μὲν 
+εὐνοέειν τε καὶ προορᾶν ἄγαμαί σευ, γνώμης 
+μέντοι ἡμάρτηκας χρηστῆς ἐξαείρας γάρ µε ὑψοῦ 
+καὶ τὴν πάτρην καὶ τὸ ἔργον, ἐς τὸ μηδὲν κατέ- 
+βαλες παραινέων νεκρῷ λυμαίνεσθαι, καὶ ἣν 
+ταῦτα ποιέω, φὰς ἄμεινόν µε ἀκούσεσθαι: τὰ 
+
+πρέπει μᾶλλον βαρβάροισι ποιέειν Ù περ 
+"p λλησι; καὶ ἐκείνοισι δὲ ἐπιφθονέομεν. ἐγὼ 
+Ò ὧν τούτου εἵνεκα μήτε Αἰγινήτῃσι ἄδοιμι μήτε 
+τοῖσι ταῦτα -ἀρέσκεται, ἀποχρᾷ δέ μοι Σπαρτιή- 
+τῇσι ἀρεσκόμενον ὅσια μὲν ποιέειν, ὅσια δὲ καὶ 
+λέγειν. Λεωνίδῃ δέ, τῷ µε κελεύεις τιμωρῆσαι, 
+φημὶ μεγάλως τετιμωρῆσθαι, Ὑυχῇσί τε τῇσι 
+τῶνδε ἀναριθμήτοισι τετίμηται αὐτός τε καὶ οἱ 
+ἄλλοι οἱ ἐν Θερμοπύλῃσι τελευτήσαντες. σὺ 
+μέντοι ἔτι ἔχων λόγον τοιόνδε «μήτε προσέλθῃς 
+ἔμοιγε μήτε συμβουλεύσῃς, χάριν τε ἴσθι ἐὼν 
+ἀπαθής." 
+
+80. Ὃ μὲν ταῦτα ἀκούσας ἀπαλλάσσετο. 
+Παυσανίης δὲ κήρυγμα ποιησάμενος μηδένα 
+ἅπτεσθαι τῆς ληίης, συγκομίξειν ἐκέλευε τοὺς 
+εἵλωτας τὰ χρήματα. οἳ δὲ ἀνὰ τὸ στρατόπεδον 
+σκιδνάμενοι εὕρισκον σκηνὰς κατεσκευασμένας 
+χρυσῷ καὶ ἀργύρῳ, κλίνας τε ἐπιχρύσους καὶ 
+252 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. 78-80 
+
+
+was slain at Thermopylae, Mardonius and Xerxes 
+cut off his head and set it on a pole; make them a 
+like return, and you will win praise from all Spartans, 
+and the rest of Hellas besides; for if you impale 
+Mardonius you will be avenged for your father's 
+brother Leonidas." 
+
+79. So said Lampon, thinking to please. But 
+Pausanias answered him thus: * Sir Aeginetan, I 
+thank you for your goodwill and forethought ; but 
+you have missed the mark of right judgment ; for 
+first you exalt me on high and my fatherland and 
+my deeds withal, yet next you cast ine down to 
+mere nothingness when you counsel me to insult the 
+dead, and say that I shall win more praise if I so do; 
+but that were an act more proper for foreigners than 
+for Greeks, and one that we deem matter of blame 
+even in foreigners. Nay, for myself, I would fain in 
+this business find no favour either with the people of 
+Aegina or whoso else is pleased by such acts; it is 
+enough for me if I please the Spartans by righteous 
+deed and righteous speech. Ας for Leonidas, whom 
+you would have me avenge, I hold that he has had 
+full measure of vengeance; the uncounted souls of 
+these that you see have done honour to him and the 
+rest of those who died at Thermopylae. But to you 
+this is my warning, that you come not again to me 
+with words like these nor give me such counsel; 
+and be thankful now that you go unpunished.” 
+
+80. With that answer Lampon departed. Then 
+Pausanias made a proclamation, that no man should 
+touch the spoil, and bade the helots gather all the 
+stuff together. They, scattering all about the camp, 
+found there tents adorned with gold and silver, and 
+couches gilded and silver-plated, and golden bowls 
+
+
+253 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐπαργύρους, κρητῆράς τε χρυσέους καὶ φιάλας. τε 
+καὶ ἄλλα ἐκπώματα" σάκκους τε ἐπ᾽ ἁμαξέων 
+εὕρισκον, ἐν τοῖσι λέβητες ἐφαίνοντο ἐνεόντες 
+χρύσεοί τε καὶ ἀργύρεοι: ἀπό τε τῶν κειμένων 
+νεκρῶν ἐσκύλευον ψέλιά τε καὶ στρεπτοὺς καὶ 
+τοὺς ἀκινάκας ἐόντας χρυσέους, ἐπεὶ ἐσθῆτός ye 
+ποικίλης λόγος ἐγίνετο οὐδείς. ἐνθαῦτα πολλὰ 
+μὲν κλέπτοντες ἐπώλεον πρὸς τοὺς Αἰγινήτας οἱ 
+εἴλωτες, πολλὰ δὲ καὶ ἀπεδείκνυσαν, ὅσα αὐτῶν 
+οὐκ οἷά τε ἣν κρύψαι: ὥστε Αἰγινήτησι οἱ 
+μεγάλοι πλοῦτοι ἀρχὴν ἐνθεῦτεν ἐγένοντο, οἳ τὸν 
+χρυσὸν ἅτε ἐόντα χαλκὸν δῆθεν παρὰ τῶν εἱλώτων 
+3 / 
+
+ὠνέοντο. 
+
+81. Συμφορήσαντες δὲ τὰ χρήματα καὶ δεκάτην 
+ἐξελόντες τῷ ἐν Δελφοῖσι θεῷ, ἀπ as ὁ τρίπους ὁ 
+χρύσεος ἀνετέθη ὁ ὁ ἐπὶ τοῦ τρικαρήνου ὄφιος τοῦ 
+
+αλκέου ἐπεστεὼς ἄγχιστα τοῦ βωμοῦ, καὶ τῷ 
+ἐν Ὀλυμπίῃ θεῷ ἐξελόντες, aT ἧς δεκάπηχυν 
+χάλκεον Δία ἀνέθηκαν, καὶ τῷ ἐν ᾿Ισθμῷ θεῷ, 
+ἀπ᾽ ἧς ἑπτάπηχυς χάλκεος Ποσειδέων ἐξεγένετο, 
+ταῦτα ἐξελόντες τὰ λοιπὰ διαιρέοντο, καὶ ἔλαβον 
+ἕκαστοι τῶν ἄξιοι ἦσαν, καὶ τὰς παλλακὰς τῶν 
+Περσέων καὶ τὸν χρυσὸν καὶ ἄργυρον καὶ ἄλλα 
+χρήματα τε καὶ ὑποζύγια. ὅσα μέν νυν ἐξαίρετα 
+τοῖσι ἀριστεύσασι αὐτῶν ἐν Πλαταιῇσι ἐδόθη, ov 
+λέγεται πρὸς οὐδαμῶν, δοκέω Ò ἔγωγε καὶ τού- 
+τοισι δοθῆναι: Παυσανίῃ δὲ πάντα δέκα ἐξαιρέθη 
+τε καὶ ἐδόθη, γυναῖκες ἵπποι τάλαντα κάμηλοι, 
+ὣς δὲ αὕτως καὶ τἆλλα χρήματα. 
+
+
+1 The bronze three-headed serpent supporting the cauldron 
+was intended apparently to commemorate the whole Greek 
+alliance against Persia. The serpent pedestal still exists, 
+
+
+254 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. 80-81 
+
+
+and cups and other drinking-vessels ; and sacks they 
+found on wains, wherein were seen cauldrons of 
+gold and silver; and they stripped from the dead 
+that lay there their armlets and torques, and daggers 
+of gold ; asfor many-coloured raiment, it was nothing 
+regarded. Much of all this the helots showed, as 
+much as they could not conceal; but much they 
+stole and sold to the Aeginetans ; insomuch that the 
+Aeginetans thereby laid the foundation of their 
+great fortunes, by buying gold from the helots as 
+though it were bronze. 
+
+81. Having brought all the stuff together they set 
+apart a tithe for the god of Delphi, whereof was 
+made and dedicated that tripod that rests upon the 
+bronze three-headed serpent,! nearest to the altar ; 
+another they set apart for the god of Olympia, 
+whereof was made and dedicated a bronze figure of 
+Zeus, ten cubits high; and another for the god of 
+the Isthmus, whereof came a bronze Poseidon seven 
+cubits high ; all which having set apart they divided 
+the remnant, and each received according to his 
+desert of the concubines of the Persians, and the 
+gold and silver, and all the rest of the stuff, and the 
+beasts of burden. How much was set apart and 
+given to those who had fought best at Plataeae, no 
+man says ; but I think that they also received gifts; 
+but tenfold of every kind, women, horses, talents, 
+camels, and all other things likewise, was set apart 
+and given to Pausanias. 
+
+
+in the Atmeidan (formerly Hippodrome) at Constantinople, 
+whither it was transported by Constantine ; it has been fully 
+exposed and its inscription deciphered since 1856. The names 
+of thirty-one Greek states are incised on eleven spirals, from 
+the third to the thirteenth. For a fuller account see How 
+and Wells’ note ad loc. 
+
+
+255 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+82. Λέγεται δὲ καὶ τάδε γενέσθαι, ὡς Ξέρξης 
+φεύγων ἐκ τῆς Ἱλλάδος Μαρδονίῳ τὴν κατα- 
+σκευὴν καταλίποι τὴν ἑωυτοῦ: Παυσανίην ὧν 
+ὀρῶντα τὴν Μαρδονίου κατασκευὴν χρυσῷ τε kai 
+ἀργύρῳ καὶ παραπετάσµασι ποικίλοισι KATE- 
+σκευασμένην, κελεῦσαι τούς τε ἀρτοκόπους καὶ 
+τοὺς ὀψοποιοὺς κατὰ ταὐτὰ καθὼς Μαρδονίῳ 
+δεῖπνον παρασκευάξειν. ὡς δὲ κελευόμενοι οὗτοι 
+ἐποίευν ταῦτα, ἐνθαῦτα τὸν Παυσανίην ἰδόντα 
+κλίνας τε χρυσέας καὶ ἀργυρέας εὖ ἐστρωμένας 
+καὶ τραπέξας τε χρυσέας καὶ ἀργυρέας καὶ παρα- 
+σκευὴν μεγαλοπρεπέα τοῦ δείπνου, ἐκπλαγέντα τὰ 
+προκείμενα ἀγαθὰ κελεῦσαι ἐ ἐπὶ γέλωτι τοὺς ἑωυτοῦ 
+διηκόνους παρασκευάσαι Λακωνικὸν δεῖπνον. ὡς 
+δὲ τῆς θοίνης ποιηθείσης ἦν πολλὸν τὸ μέσον, 
+τὸν Παυσανίην γελάσαντα μεταπέμψασθαι τῶν 
+Ἑλλήνων τοὺς στρατηγούς, συνελθόντων. δὲ τού- 
+των εἰπεῖν τὸν Παυσανίην, δεικνύντα ἐς .ἑκατέρην 
+τοῦ δείπνου παρασκευήν, "Ανδρες "[ῦλληρνες, 
+τῶνδε εἵνεκα ἐγὼ ὑμέας συνήγαγον, βουλόμενος 
+ὑμῖν τοῦδε τοῦ Μήδων ἡγεμόνος τὴν ἀφροσύνην 
+δέξαι, ὃς τοιήνδε δίαιταν ἔχων ἦλθε ἐς ἡμέας 
+οὕτω ὀϊζυρὴν ἔχοντας ἀπαιρησόμενος. ταῦτα 
+μὲν Παυσανίην λέγεται εἰπεῖν πρὸς τοὺς στρατη- 
+yous τῶν Ἑλλήνων. 
+
+83. “Γστέρῳ μέντοι χρόνῳ μετὰ ταῦτα καὶ τῶν 
+Πλαταιέων εὗρον συχνοὶ θήκας χρυσοῦ καὶ 
+ἀργύρου καὶ τῶν ἄλλων χρημάτων. ἐφάνη δὲ 
+καὶ τόδε ὕστερον τούτων ἐπὶ τῶν νεκρῶν. περι- 
+ψιλωθέντων τὰς σάρκας" -συνεφόρεον γὰρ τὰ 
+ὀστέα οἱ Πλαταιέες ἐς ἕνα χῶρον". εὑρέθη, κεφαλὴ 
+οὐκ ἔχουσα ῥαφὴν οὐδεμίαν ἀλλ᾽ ἐξ ἑνὸς ἐοῦσα 
+
+
+2 50 
+
+
+BOOK IX 82-83 
+
+
+82. This other story is also told. Xerxes in his 
+flight from Hellas, having left to Mardonius his own 
+establishment, Pausanias, seeing Mardonius' estab- 
+lishment with its display of gold and silver and gaily- 
+coloured tapestry, bade the bakers and the cooks to 
+prepare a dinner in such wise as they were wont to 
+do for Mardonius. They did his bidding; whereat 
+Pausanias, when he saw golden and silvern couches 
+richly covered, and tables of gold and silver, and all 
+the magnificent service of the banquet, was amazed 
+at the splendour before him, and for a jest bade his 
+own servants prepare a dinner after Laconian fashion. 
+When that meal was ready and was far different 
+from the other, Pausanias fell a-laughing, and sent 
+for the generals of the Greeks. They being assem- 
+bled, Pausanias pointed to the fashion after which 
+either dinner was served, and said : “ Men of Hellas, 
+I have brought you hither because I desired to show 
+you the foolishness of the leader of the Medes; who, 
+with such provision for life as you see, came hither 
+to take away from us ours, that is so pitiful." Thus, 
+it is said, Pausanias spoke to the generals of the 
+Greeks. 
+
+83. But in later days many of the Plataeans also 
+found chests full of gold and silver and all else. 
+Moreover there were sights to see among these 
+dead, when their bones (which the  Plataeans 
+gathered into one place) were laid bare of flesh: 
+there was found a skull whereof the bone was all 
+
+257 
+
+VOL. Iv. K 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ὀστέου, ἐφάνη δὲ καὶ γνάθος κατὰ τὸ dvo! τῆς 
+γνάθου ἔχουσα ὀδόντας μουνοφυέας ἐξ ἑνὸς 
+ὀστέου πάντας τούς τε προσθίους καὶ γομφίους, 
+καὶ πενταπήχεος ἀνδρὸς ὀστέα ἐφάνη. 
+
+84. Ἐπείτε δὲ” Μαρ δονίου δευτέρῃ ἡμέρῃ ὁ 
+νεκρὸς ἠφάνιστο, ὑπὸ ὅτευ μὲν ἀνθρώπων τὸ 
+ἀτρεκὲς οὐκ ἔχω εἰπεῖν, πολλοὺς δὲ τινὰς ἤδη 
+καὶ παντοδαποὺς ἤκουσα θάψαι Μαρδόνιον, καὶ 
+δῶρα. μεγάλα οἶδα λαβόντας πολλοὺς παρὰ 
+᾿Αρτόντεω τοῦ , Μαρδονίου. παιδὸς διὰ τοῦτο τὸ 
+ἔργον' ὅστις μέντοι ἦν αὐτῶν ὁ ὑπελόμενός τε καὶ 
+θάψας τὸν νεκρὸν τὸν Μαρδονίου, οὐ δύναμαι 
+ἀτρεκέως πυθέσθαι, ἔχει δὲ τινὰ φάτιν καὶ 
+Διονυσοφάνης ἀνὴρ ᾿Εφέσιος θάψαι Μαρδόνιον. 
+ἀλλ᾽ ὃ μὲν τρόπῳ τοιούτῳ ἐτάφη. 
+
+85. Οἱ δὲ Ελληνες ὡς ἐν Πλαταιῇσι τὴν ληίην 
+διείλοντο, ἔθαπτον τοὺς ἑωυτῶν χωρὶς ἕκαστοι. 
+Λακεδαιμόνιοι μὲν τριξὰς ἐποιήσαντο θήκας" ἔνθα 
+μὲν τοὺς ἐρένας ἔθαψαν, τῶν καὶ Π]οσειδώνιος καὶ 
+᾽Αμομϕάρετος ἦσαν καὶ Φιλοκύων τε καὶ Καλ- 
+λικράτης. ἐν μὲν δὴ ἑνὶ τῶν τάφων ἦσαν οἱ 
+ὀρένες, ἐν δὲ τῷ ἑτέρῳ οἱ ἄλλοι Σπαρτιῆται, ἐν 
+δὲ τῷ τρίτῳ οἱ εἵλωτες. οὗτοι μὲν οὕτω ἔθαπτον, 
+Γεγεῆται δὲ χωρὶς πάντας ἁλέας, καὶ ᾿Αθηναῖοι 
+τοὺς ἑωυτῶν ὁμοῦ, καὶ Meyapées τε καὶ Φλειάσιοι 
+τοὺς ὑπὸ τῆς ἵππου διαφθαρέντας. τούτων μὲν 
+δὴ πάντων πλήρεες ἐγένοντο οἱ τάφοι τῶν δὲ 
+ἄλλων ὅσοι καὶ φαίνονται ἐν Πλαταιῇσι ἐόντες 
+
+
+1 MS. καὶ τὸ ἄνω; Stein suggests κατά, which is here 
+adopted. 
+? MS. ἔπειτε δέ, introducing a protasis which has no 
+apodosis ; Stein's suggested ἐπεί γε δή (— for as to Mardonius, 
+etc.) seems preferable. 
+
+
+258 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. 83-85 
+
+
+one without suture, and a jawbone wherein the 
+teeth of the upper jaw were one whole, a single 
+bone, front teeth and grinders; and there were 
+to be seen the bones of a man of five cubits’ 
+stature. 
+
+84. As for the body of Mardonius, it was made 
+away with on the day after the battle; by whom, 1 
+cannot with exactness say ; but I have heard of very 
+many of all countries that buried Mardonius, and I 
+know of many that were richly rewarded for that 
+act by Mardonius' son Artontes; but which of them 
+it was that stole away and buried the body of 
+Mardonius I cannot learn for a certainty, albeit 
+some report that it was buried by Dionysophanes, 
+an Ephesian. Such was the manner of Mardonius' 
+burial. 
+
+85. But the Greeks, when they had divided the 
+spoil at Plataeae, buried their dead each severally in 
+their place. The Lacedaemonians made three vaults ; 
+there they buried their “irens,” t among whom were 
+Posidonius and Amompharetus and Philocyon and 
+Callierates. In one of the tombs, then, were the 
+*jrens," in the second the rest of the Spartans, 
+and in the third the helots. Thus the Lacedae- 
+monians buried their dead; the Tegeans buried all 
+theirs together in a place apart, and the Athenians 
+did likewise with their own dead; and so did the 
+Megarians and Phliasians with those who had been 
+slain by the horsemen. All the tombs of these 
+peoples were filled with dead; but as for the rest of 
+the states whose tombs are to be seen at Plataeae, 
+
+
+1 Spartan young men between the ages of twenty and 
+thirty. 
+
+
+259 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τάφοι, τούτους δέ, ὡς ἐγὼ πυνθάνομαι, ἐπαισχυνο- 
+μένους τῇ ἀπεστοῖ τῆς μάχης ἑκάστους χώματα 
+χῶσαι κεινὰ τῶν ἐπιγινομένων εἵνεκεν ἀνθρώπων, 
+ἐπεὶ καὶ Αἰγινητέων ἐστὶ αὐτόθι καλεόμενος τάφος, 
+N / N ^ 
+τὸν ἐγὼ ἀκούω καὶ δέκα ἔτεσι ὕστερον μετὰ ταῦτα 
+δεηθέντων τῶν Αἰγινητέων χῶσαι Κλεάδην τὸν 
+Αὐτοδίκου ἄνδρα Πλαταιέα, πρόξεινον ἐόντα 
+αὐτῶν. 
+
+80. Ὡς δ᾽ ἄρα ἔθαψαν τοὺς νεκροὺς ἐν Ia- 
+^ £-ej , / / ’ 
+ταιῆσι οἱ “Ελληνες, αὐτίκα βουλενομένοισί σφι 
+
+, [/ / , ~ N / . 3 7 
+ἐδόκεε στρατεύειν ἐπὶ τὰς Θήβας καὶ ἐξαιτέειν 
+αὐτῶν τοὺς μηδίσαντας, ἐν πρώτοισι δὲ αὐτῶν 
+Τιμηγενίδην καὶ ᾿Ατταγῖνον, οἳ ἀρχηγέται ἀνὰ 
+πρώτους ἦσαν" ἣν δὲ μὴ ἐκδιδῶσι, μὴ ἀπανί- 
+στασθαι ἀπὸ τῆς πόλιος πρότερον ἢ ἐξέλωσι. 
+e / ^ » e ~ e / e / 
+ὡς δέ σφι ταῦτα ἔδοξε, οὕτω δὴ ἑνδεκάτῃ ἡμέρη 
+ἀπὸ τῆς συμβολῆς ἀπικόμενοι ἐπολιόρκεον Θη- 
+/ y 
+βαίους, κελεύοντες ἐκδιδόναι τοὺς ἄνδρας: οὐ 
+/ . ^ / » , , 
+βουλομένων δὲ τῶν Θηβαίων ἐκδιδόναι, τήν τε 
+γῆν αὐτῶν ἔταμνον καὶ προσέβαλλον πρὸς τὸ 
+ος rN > ` , , , , A 
+Kai οὐ γὰρ ἐπαύοντο σινόμενοι, εἰκοστῇ 
+ἡμέρη ἔλεξε τοῖσι Θηβαίοισι Τιμηγενίδης τάδε, 
+"Άνδρες Θηβαῖοι, ἐπειδὴ οὕτω δέδοκται τοῖσι 
+"Ἕλλησι, μὴ πρότερον ἀπαναστῆναι πολιορκέοντας 
+^ > / 7 A e 4 > ^ δῶ ^ 
+ἢ ἐξέλωσι Θήβας ἢ ἡμέας αὐτοῖσι παραδῶτε, νῦν 
+ὧν ἡμέων εἵνεκα γῆ καὶ Βοιωτίη πλέω μὴ ἀναπλήσῃ, 
+ἀλλ᾽ εἰ μὲν χρημάτων XT OE πρόσχημα 
+ἡμέας ἐξαιτέονται, χρήματά σφι δῶμεν ἐκ τοῦ 
+κοινοῦ (σὺν yàp τῷ κοινῷ καὶ ἐμηδίσαμεν οὐδὲ 
+μοῦνοι ἡμεῖς), εἰ δὲ ἡμέων ἀληθέως δεόμενοι 
+πολιορκέουσι, ἡμεῖς ἡμέας αὐτοὺς ἐς ἀντιλογίην 
+260 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 85-87 
+
+
+their tombs are but empty barrows that they built 
+for the sake of men that should come after, because 
+they were ashamed to have been absent from the 
+battle. In truth there is one there that is called 
+the tomb of the Aeginetans, which, as I have been 
+told, was built as late as ten years after, at the 
+Aeginetans' desire, by their patron and protector 
+Cleades son of Autodicus, a Plataean. 
+
+86. As soon as the Greeks had buried their dead 
+at Plataeae, they resolved in council that they would 
+march against Thebes and demand surrender of 
+those who had taken the Persian part, but specially 
+of Timagenidas and Attaginus, who were chief among 
+their foremost men; and that, if these men were 
+not delivered to them, they would not withdraw 
+from before the city till they should have taken it. 
+Being thus resolved, they came with this intent on 
+the eleventh day after the battle and laid siege to 
+the Thebans, demanding the surrender of the men; 
+and the Thebans refusing this surrender, they laid 
+their lands waste and assaulted the walls. 
+
+87. Seeing that the Greeks would not cease from 
+their harrying, when nineteen days were past, 
+Timagenidas thus spoke to the Thebans: * Men ot 
+Thebes, since the Greeks have so resolved that they 
+will not raise the siege till Thebes be taken or we 
+be delivered to them, now let not the land of Boeotia 
+increase the measure of its ills for our sake ; nay, if 
+it is money they desire and their demand for our 
+surrender is but a pretext, let us give them money 
+out of our common treasury (for it was by the 
+common will and not ours alone that we took the 
+Persian part); but if they be besieging the town for 
+no other cause save to have us, then we will give 
+
+
+261 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+παρέξομεν.” κάρτα τε ἔδοξε εὖ λέγειν καὶ ἐς 
+καιρόν, αὐτίκα τε ἐπεκηρυκεύοντο πρὸς Παυσανίην 
+οἱ Θηβαῖοι θέλοντες ἐκδιδόναι τοὺς ἄνδρας. 
+
+88. Ὡς δὲ ὡμολόγησαν ἐπὶ τούτοισι, ATTA- 
+yivos. μὲν ἐκδιδρήσκει ἐκ τοῦ ἄστεος, παῖδας δὲ 
+αὐτοῦ ἀπαχθέντας Παυσανίης ἀπέλυσε τῆς αὐτίης, 
+φὰς τοῦ μηδισμοῦ παΐδας οὐδὲν εἶναι μεταυτίους. 
+τοὺς δὲ ἄλλους ἄνδρας τοὺς ἐξέδοσαν. ot Θηβαῖοι, 
+οἳ μὲν ἐδόκεον ἀντιλογίης τε κυρήσειν καὶ δὴ 
+χρήμασι ἐπεποίθεσαν διωθέεσθαι" ὃ δὲ ὡς Tapé- 
+λαβε, αὐτὰ ταῦτα ὑπονοέων τὴν στρατιὴν τὴν 
+τῶν συμμάχων ἅπασαν ἀπῆκε καὶ ἐκείνους aya- 
+you ἐς Κόρινθον διέφθειρε. ταῦτα μὲν τὰ ἐν 
+Πλαταιῇσι καὶ Θήβησι γενόμενα. 
+
+89. ᾿Ἀρτάβαξος δὲ ὁ Φαρνάκεος φεύγων ἐκ 
+Πλαταιέων καὶ δὴ πρόσω ἐγίνετο. ἀπικόμενον 
+δὲ μιν οἱ Θεσσαλοὶ παρὰ σφέας ἐπί τε ξείνια 
+ἐκάλεον καὶ ἀνειρώτων περὶ τῆς στρατιῆς τῆς 
+ἄλλης, οὐδὲν ἐπιστάμενοι τῶν ἐν Πλαταιῇσι γενο- 
+μένων. ὁ δὲ Αρτάβαξος γνοὺς ὅτι εἰ ἐθέλει σφι 
+πᾶσαν τὴν ἀληθείην τῶν ἀγώνων εἰπεῖν, αὐτός 
+τε κινδυνεύσει ἀπολέσθαι καὶ ὁ μετ᾽ αὐτοῦ στρα- 
+τός' ἐπιθήσεσθαι γάρ οἱ πάντα τινὰ οἴετο πυν- 
+θανόμενον τὰ γεγονότα. ταῦτα ἐκλοηγιζόμενος οὔτε 
+πρὸς τοὺς Φωκέας ἐξηγορευε οὐδὲν πρός τε τοὺς 
+Θεσσαλοὺς ἔλεγε τάδε. “᾿Εγὼ μὲν ὦ ἄνδρες 
+Θεσσαλοί, ὡς ὁρᾶτε, ἐπείγομαί τε κατὰ τάχος 
+ἑλῶν ἐς Θρηίκην καὶ σπουδὴν ἔχω, πεμφθεὶς 
+κατά τι πρῆγμα ἐκ τοῦ στρατοπέδου μετὰ τῶνδς' 
+αὐτὸς δὲ ὑμῖν Μαρδόνιος καὶ ὁ στρατὸς αὐτοῦ, 
+οὗτος κατὰ πόδας ἐμεῦ ἐλαύνων προσδόκιµος ἐστί. 
+
+
+262 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. 87-89 
+
+
+ourselves up to be tried by them." This seeming to 
+be very well and seasonably said, the Thebans im- 
+mediately sent a herald to Pausanias, offering to 
+surrender the men. 
+
+88. On these terms they made an agreement; but 
+Attaginus escaped out of the town; his sons were 
+seized, but Pausanias held them free of guilt, saying 
+that the sons were nowise accessory to the treason. 
+As for the rest of the men whom the Thebans sur- 
+rendered, they supposed that they would be put on 
+their trial, and were confident that they would 
+defeat the impeachment by bribery; but Pausanias 
+had that very suspicion of them, and when they 
+were put into his hands he sent away the whole allied 
+army, and carried the men to Corinth, where he put 
+them to death. Such were the doings at Plataeae 
+and Thebes. 
+
+89. Artabazus the son of Pharnaces was by now 
+far on his way in his flight from Plataeae. The 
+Thessalians, when he came among them, entertained 
+him hospitably and inquired of him concerning the 
+rest of the army, knowing nothing of what had been 
+done at Plataeae. Artabazus understood that if he 
+told them the whole truth about the fighting, he 
+would imperil his own life and the lives of all that 
+were with him; for he thought that every man 
+would set upon him if they heard the story ; where- 
+fore, thus reasoning, even as he had revealed nothing 
+to the Phocians so he spoke thus to the Thessalians : 
+* [ myself, men of Thessaly, am pressing on with all 
+speed and diligence to march into Thrace, being 
+despatched from the army for a certain purpose with 
+these whom you see; and you may look to see 
+Mardonius and that host of his yonder, marching 
+
+
+263 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τοῦτον καὶ ξεινίζετε καὶ εὖ ποιεῦντες φαίνεσθε' 
+οὐ γὰρ ὑμῖν ἐς χρόνον ταῦτα ποιεῦσι µεταµε- 
+λήσει. ταῦτα δὲ εἴπας ἀπήλαυνε σπουδῇ τὴν 
+στρατιὴν διὰ Θεσσαλίης τε καὶ Μακεδονίης ἰθὺ 
+τῆς Θρηίκης, ὡς ἀληθέως ἐπειγόμενος, καὶ τὴν 
+μεσόγαιαν τάμνων τῆς ὁδοῦ. καὶ ἀπικνέεται ἐς 
+Ῥυξάντιον, καταλιπὼν τοῦ στρατοῦ τοῦ ἑωυτοῦ 
+συχνοὺς ὑπὸ Θρηίκων κατακοπέντας κατ᾽ ὁδὸν 
+Kab λιμῷ συστάντας καὶ καμάτῳ' ἐκ Βυξαντίου 
+δὲ διέβη πλοίοισι. οὗτος μὲν οὕτω ἀπενόστησε 
+ἐς τὴν ᾿Ασίην. 
+
+90. Tijs δὲ αὐτῆς ἡμέρης τῆς περ ἐν Ἡλαταιῇσι 
+τὸ τρῶμα ἐγένετο, συνεκύρησε γενέσθαι καὶ ἐν 
+Μυκάλῃ τῆς ᾿Ιωνίης. ἐπεὶ γὰρ δη ἐν τῇ Δήλῳ 
+κατέατο οἱ EXXqves οἱ ἐν τῇσι νηυσὶ ἅμα Λευτυ- 
+χίδῃ τῷ Λακεδαιμονίῳ ἀπικόμενοι, ἦλθόν σφι 
+ἄγγελοι. ἀπὸ Σάμου Λάμπων τε Θρασυκλέος καὶ 
+᾿Λθηναγόρης ᾿Αρχεστρατίδεω καὶ Ἡγησίστρατος 
+᾿Αρισταγόρεω, πεμφθέντες ὑπὸ Σαμίων λάθρῃ 
+τῶν τε Περσέων καὶ τοῦ τυράννου Θεομήστορος 
+τοῦ ᾿Ανδροδάμαντος, τὸν κατέστησαν Σάμου 
+τύραννον οἱ Πέρσαι. ἐπελθόντων δὲ σφέων ἐπὶ 
+τοὺς στρατηγούς ἔλεγε ᾿Ἠγησίστρατος πολλὰ καὶ 
+παντοῖα, ὡς ἦν μοῦνον ἴδωνται αὐτοὺς οἱ "Ίωνες 
+ἀποστήσονται ἀπὸ | Περσέων, καὶ ὡς οἱ βάρβαροι 
+οὐκ ὑπομενέουσι' ἣν δὲ καὶ ἄρα ὑπομείνωσι, οὐκ 
+ἑτέρην ἄγρην τοιαύτην εὑρεῖν ἂν αὐτούς᾽ θεούς τε 
+κοινοὺς ἀνακαλέων προέτραπε αὐτοὺς ῥύσασθαι 
+ἄνδρας" Ελληνας € ἐκ δουλοσύνης καὶ ἀπαμῦναι τὸν 
+βάρβαρον' εὐπετές τε αὐτοῖσι ἔφη ταῦτα γίνεσθαι" 
+TUS T€ γὰρ νέας αὐτῶν κακῶς πλέειν καὶ οὐκ ἀξι- 
+ομάχους κείνοισι εἶναι. αὐτοί τε, εἴτι ὑποπτεύουσι 
+264 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 89-9o 
+
+
+close after me. It is for you to entertain him, and 
+show that you do him good service ; for if you so do, 
+you will not afterwards repent of it." So saying, he 
+used all diligence to lead his army away straight 
+towards Thrace through Thessaly and Macedonia, 
+brooking in good sooth no delay and following the 
+shortest inland road. So he came to Byzantium, but 
+he left behind many of his army, cut down by the 
+Thracians or overcome by hunger and weariness; 
+and from Byzantium he crossed over in boats. In 
+such case Artabazus returned into Asia. 
+
+90. Now on the selfsame day when the Persians 
+were so stricken at Plataeae, it so fell out that they 
+suffered a like fate at Mycale in Ionia. For the 
+Greeks who had come in their ships with Leutychides 
+the Lacedaemonian being then in quarters at Delos, 
+there came to them certain messengers from Samos, 
+to wit, Lampon son of Thrasycles, Athenagoras son of 
+Archestratides, and Hegesistratus son of Aristagoras ; 
+these the Samians had sent, keeping their despatch 
+secret from the Persians and the despot Theomestor 
+son of Androdamas, whom the Persians had made 
+despot of Samos. When they came before the 
+generals, Hegesistratus spoke long and vehemently : 
+“If the Ionians but see you," said he, “they will 
+revolt from the Persians; and the foreigners will 
+not stand; but if perchance they do stand, you 
+will have such a prey as never again"; and he 
+prayed them in the name of the gods of their 
+common worship to deliver Greeks from slavery and 
+drive the foreigner away. That, said he, would be 
+an easy matter for them; ‘for the Persian ships are 
+unseaworthy and no match for yours; and if you 
+
+
+265 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μὴ δόλῳ αὐτοὺς προάγοιεν, ἕτοιμοι εἶναι ἐν τῆσι 
+νηυσὶ τῇσι ἐκείνων ἀγόμενοι ὅμηροι εἶναι. 
+
+91. Ὡς δὲ πολλὸς ἦν λισσόμενος ὁ ξεῖνος ὁ 
+Σάμιος, εἴρετο Λευτυχίδης, εἴτε κληδόνος εἵνεκεν 
+θέλων πυθέσθαι εἴτε καὶ κατὰ συντυχίην θεοῦ 
+ποιεῦντος, PORC) ξεῖνε Lape, τί TOL τὸ οὔνομα ; 7 i 
+
+ὃ δὲ εἶπε “ “Ηγησίστρατος. δ δει ὑπαρπάσας τὸν 
+ο ο λόγον, εἴ τινα ὅρμητο λέγειν ὁ Ηγησί- 
+στρατος, εἶπε E Δέκομαι τὸν οἰωνὸν τὸν Ἥγησι. 
+στράτου, a) ξεῖνε Σάμιε. σὺ δὲ ἡμῖν ποίεε ὅκως 
+αὐτός τε δοὺς πίστιν ἀποπλεύσεαι καὶ οἱ σὺν σοὶ 
+2 e ^ WS / e ^ / » 
+ἐόντες οἶδε, ἢ μὲν Σαμίους ἡμῖν προθύμους ἔσεσθαι 
+συμμάχους." 
+
+92, Ταῦτά τε ἅμα ἠγόρευε καὶ τὸ ἔργον 
+προσῆγε: αὐτίκα γὰρ οἱ Σάμιοι πίστιν τε καὶ 
+ὅρκια ἐποιεῦντο συμμαχίης πέρι. πρὸς τοὺς " EA- 
+Ἄηνας. ταῦτα δὲ ποιῆσαντες οἳ μὲν. ἀπέπλεον' 
+μετὰ σφέων γὰρ ἐκέλευε πλέειν τὸν ‘Hynot- 
+στρατον, οἰωνὸν τὸ οὔνομα ποιεύμενος. 
+
+93. Οἱ δὲ "Ελληνες ἐπισχόντες ταύτην τὴν 
+ἡμέρην τῇ ὑστεραίη ἐκαλλιερέοντο, μαντευομένου 
+σφι Δηιφόνου τοῦ Εὐηνίου ἀνδρὸς ᾿Απολλωνιήτεω, 
+᾿Απολλωνίης δὲ τῆς ἐν τῷ ᾿Ιονίῳ κόλπῳ. τούτου 
+τὸν πατέρα Εὐήνιον κατέλαβε πρῆγμα τοιόνδε. 
+ἔστι ἐν τῇ ᾿Απολλωνίῃ ταύτῃ ἱρὰ ἡλίου πρόβατα, 
+τὰ τὰς μὲν ἡμέρας βόσκεται παρὰ Κῶνα ποταμόν, 
+ὃς ἐκ Λάκμονος ὄρεος ῥέει. διὰ τῆς ᾿Απολλωνίης 
+χώρης ἐς θάλασσαν παρ᾽ Ὥρικον λιμένα, τὰς 
+δὲ νύκτας ἀραιρημένοι ἄνδρες οἱ πλούτῳ τε καὶ 
+γένεϊ δοκιμώτατοι τῶν ἀστῶν, οὗτοι φυλάσσουσι 
+ἐνιαυτὸν ἕκαστος' περὶ πολλοῦ γὰρ δὴ ποιεῦνται 
+
+
+266 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 9o-93 
+
+
+have any suspicion that we may be tempting you 
+guilefully, we are ready to be carried in your ships 
+as hostages." 
+
+91. This Samian stranger being so earnest in 
+entreaty, Leutychides asked him (whether it was 
+that he desired to know for the sake of a presage, or 
+that heaven happily prompted him thereto), * Sir 
+Samian, what is your name?” * Hegesistratus," 1 
+said he. Then Leutychides cut short whatever else 
+Hegesistratus had begun to say, and cried: “I 
+accept the omen of your name, Sir Samian ; now do 
+you see to it that ere you sail hence you and these 
+that are with you pledge yourselves that the 
+Samians will be our zealous allies." 
+
+92. Thus he spoke, and then and there added the 
+deed thereto; for straightway the Samians bound 
+themselves by pledge and oath to alliance with the 
+Greeks. This done, the rest sailed away, but 
+Leutychides bade Hegesistratus take ship with the 
+Greeks, for the good omen of his name. 
+
+93. The Greeks waited through that day, and on 
+the next they sought and won favourable augury ; 
+their diviner was Deiphonus son of Evenius, a 
+man of that Apollonia which is in the Ionian gulf. 
+This man's father Evenius had once fared as I 
+will now relate. There is at the aforesaid Apollonia 
+a certain flock sacred to the Sun, which in the day- 
+time is pastured beside the river Chon, which flows 
+from the mountain called Lacmon through the lands 
+of Apollonia and issues into the sea by the haven of 
+Oricum; by night, those townsmen who are most 
+notable for wealth or lineage are chosen to watch it, 
+each man serving for a year; for the people of 
+
+
+1 Hegesistratus = Army-leader. 
+
+
+267 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+^ M Ü ^ 
+᾿Απολλωγνιῆται τὰ πρὀβατα ταῦτα ἐκ θεοπροπίου 
+τινός" ἐν δὲ ἄντρῳ αὐλίζονται ἀπὸ τῆς πόλιος ἑκάς. 
+» . / e 3 7 ks 3 2 > ΄ 
+ἔνθα δὴ τότε ὁ Εὐήνιος οὗτος ἀραιρημένος ἐφύ- 
+N N ^ 
+λασσε. καὶ κοτὲ αὐτοῦ κατακοιμήσαντος φυλακὴν 
+παρελθόντες. λύκοι ἐς τὸ ἄντρον διέφθειραν τῶν 
+προβάτων ὡς ἑξήκοντα. ὃ δὲ ὡς ἐπήισε, εἶχε 
+σιγῇ καὶ ἔφραξε οὐδενί, ἐν νόῳ ἔχων ἀντικατα- 
+στήσειν ἄλλα πριάμενος. καὶ οὐ γὰρ ἔλαθε τοὺς 
+᾿Απολλωνιήτας ταῦτα γενόμενα, GAN ὡς ἐπύ- 
+/ 
+θοντο, ὑπαγαγόντες μιν ὑπὸ δικαστήριον κατέ- 
+κριναν, ὡς τὴν φυλακὴν κατακοιμήσαντα, τῆς 
+ὄψιος στερηθῆναι. ἐπείτε δὲ τὸν Εὐήνιον ἐξετύ- 
+φλωσαν, αὐτίκα μετὰ ταῦτα οὔτε πρὀβατά σφι 
+» - ’ 
+ἔτικτε οὔτε γῆ ἔφερε ὁμοίως καρπόν. πρόφαντα 
+
+’ » , N 3 ^ 3 / 
+δέ σφι èv τε Δωδώνῃ καὶ ἐν Δελφοῖσι ἐγίνετο, 
+ἐπείτε ἐπειρώτων τοὺς προφήτας τὸ αἴτιον τοῦ 
+παρεόντος κακοῦ, οἳ δὲ αὐτοῖσι ἔφραξον ὅτι 
+3 / N r ^ € ^ ’ 37 
+ἀδίκως τὸν φύλακον τῶν ἱρῶν προβάτων Εὐήνιον 
+
+^ p / \ ^ 
+τῆς ὄψιος ἐστέρησαν αὐτοὶ γᾶρ ἐπορμῆσαι TOUS 
+
+’ 
+λύκους, οὐ πρότερόν τε παύσεσθαι τιμωρέοντες 
+ἐκείνῳ πρὶν ἢ δίκας δῶσι τῶν ἐποίησαν ταύτας 
+τὰς ἂν αὐτὸς ἕληται καὶ δικαιοῖ τούτων δὲ 
+[4 , N , ALS) ’ / ΄ 
+τελεομένων αὐτοὶ δώσειν Ιὑὐηνίῳ δόσιν τοιαύτην 
+τὴν πολλούς μιν μακαριεῖν ἀνθρώπων € ἔχοντα. 
+
+94. Ta μὲν χρηστήρια ταῦτά σφι ἐχρήσθη, οἱ 
+δὲ ᾿Απολλωνιῆται ἀπόρρητα ποιησάμενοι προ- 
+έθεσαν τῶν ἀστῶν ἀνδράσι διαπρῆξαι. οἳ δέ 
+
+’ 
+σφι διέπρηξαν woe’ κατημένου Εὐηνίου ἐν θώκῳ 
+3 ’ € / N 7 5 3 
+ἐλθόντες οἱ παρίζοντο καὶ λόγους ἄλλους ἐποι- 
+εῦντο, ἐς ὃ κατέβαινον συλλυπεύμενοι τῷ malet 
+
+, ’ / 3 
+ταύτῃ δὲ ὑπάγοντες εἰρώτων τίνα δίκην ἂν ἕλοιτο, 
+
+
+268 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 93-94 
+
+
+Apollonia set great store by this flock, being so 
+taught by a certain oracle. It is folded in a cave 
+far distant from the town. Nowat the time whereof 
+I speak, Evenius was the chosen watchman. But 
+one night he fell asleep, and wolves came past his 
+guard into the cave, killing about sixty of the flock. 
+When Evenius was aware of it, he held his peace 
+and told no man, being minded to restore what was 
+lost by buying others. But this matter was not hid 
+from the people of Apollonia ; and when it came to 
+their knowledge they haled him to judgment and 
+condemned him to lose his eyesight for sleeping at 
+his watch. So they blinded Evenius; but from the 
+day of their so doing their flocks bore no offspring, 
+nor did their land yield her fruits as aforetime ; and 
+a declaration was given to them at Dodona and 
+Delphi, when they inquired of the prophets what 
+might be the cause of their present ill: the gods 
+told them by their prophets that they had done 
+unjustly in blinding Evenius, the guardian of the 
+sacred flock, “for we ourselves" (said they) “sent 
+those wolves, and we will not cease from avenging 
+him ere you make him such restitution for what vou 
+did as he himself chooses and approves; when that 
+is fully done, we will ourselves give Evenius such a 
+gift as will make many men to deem him happy." 
+94. This was the oracle given to the people of 
+Apollonia. They kept it secret, and charged certain 
+of their townsmen to carry the business through ; 
+who did so as I will now show. Coming and sitting 
+down by Evenius at the place where he sat, they 
+spoke of other matters, till at last they fell to com- 
+miserating his misfortune; and thus guiding the 
+discourse they asked him what requital he would 
+
+
+269 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+εἰ ἐθέλοιεν ᾿Απολλωνιῆται δίκας ὑποστῆναι 
+δώσειν τῶν ἐποίησαν. ὃ δὲ οὐκ ἀκηκοὼς τὸ 
+θεοπρόπιον εἵλετο εἴπας εἴ τις οἱ δοίη ἀγρούς, 
+τῶν ἀστῶν ὀνομάσας τοῖσι ἠπίστατο εἶναι καλ- 
+λίστους δύο κλήρους τῶν ἐν τῇ ᾿Απολλωνίῃ, καὶ 
+οἴκησιν πρὸς 1 τούτοισι τὴν ᾖδεε καλλίστην ἐοῦσαν 
+τῶν ἐν πόλι' τούτων δὲ ἔφη ἐπήβολος γενόμενος 
+τοῦ λοιποῦ ἀμήνιτος εἶναι, καὶ δίκην οἱ ταύτην 
+ἀποχρᾶν γενομένην. καὶ ὃ μὲν ταῦτα ἔλεγε, οἳ 
+δὲ πάρεδροι εἶπαν ὑπολαβόντες τ Eùe, ταύτην 
+δίκην ᾿Απολλωνιῆται τῆς ἐκτυφλώσιος ἐκτίνουσί 
+τοι κατὰ θεοπρὀπια τὰ γενόμενα.” ὃ μὲν δὴ 
+πρὸς ταῦτα δεινὰ ἐποίεε, τὸ ἐνθεῦτεν πυθόμενος 
+τὸν πάντα λόγον, ὡς ἐξαπατηθείς' οἱ > δὲ πριάμενοι 
+παρὰ τῶν ἐκτημένων διδοῦσί οἱ τὰ εἵλετο. καὶ 
+μετὰ ταῦτα αὐτίκα ἔμφυτον μαντικὴν εἶχε, ὥστε 
+καὶ ὀνομαστὸς γενέσθαι. 
+
+95. Τούτου δὴ ὁ Δηίφονος ἐὼν παῖς τοῦ Eogviov 
+ἀγόντων Κορινθίων ἐμαντεύετο τῇ στρατιῆ. ἤδη 
+δὲ καὶ τόδε ἤκουσα, ὡς ὁ Δηίφονος ἐπιβατεύων 
+τοῦ Πὐηνίου οὐνόματος ἐξελάμβανε ἐπὶ τὴν 'EX- 
+λάδα ἔργα, οὐκ ἐὼν Βὐηνίου παῖς. 
+
+96. Τοῖσι δὲ “Ελλησι ὡς ἐκαλλιέρησε, ἀνῆγον 
+τὰς νέας ἐκ τῆς Δήλου πρὸς τὴν Σάμον. ἐπεὶ 
+δὲ ἐγένοντο τῆς Σαμίης πρὸς Καλαμίσοισι, ot 
+μὲν αὐτοῦ ὁρμισάμενοι κατὰ TO” Hpatov τὸ ταύτῃ 
+παρεσκευάζοντο ἐς ναυμαχίην, οἳ δὲ Πέρσαι 
+πυθόμενοι σφέας προσπλέειν ἀνῆγον καὶ αὐτοὶ 
+πρὸς τὴν Sjmetpov τὰς νέας τὰς ἄλλας, τὰς δὲ 
+Φοινίκων ἀπῆκαν ἀποπλέειν. βουλενομένοισι γάρ 
+σφι ἐδόκεε ναυμαχίην μὴ ποιέεσθαι οὐ γὰρ ὧν 
+
+
+270 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. 94-96 
+
+
+choose, if the people of Apollonia should promise to 
+requite him for what they had done. He, knowing 
+nought of the oracle, said he would choose for a gift 
+the lands of certain named townsmen whom he 
+deemed to have the two fairest estates in Apollonia, 
+and a house. besides which he knew to be the fairest 
+in the town; let him (he said) have possession of 
+these, and he would forgo his wrath, and be satisfied 
+with that by way of restitution. They that sat by 
+him waited for no further word than that, and said : 
+* Evenius, the people of Apollonia hereby make you 
+that restitution for the loss of your sight, obeying 
+the oracle given to them." At that he was very 
+angry,for he learnt thereby the whole story and saw 
+that they had cheated him; but they bought from 
+the possessors and gave him what he had chosen; 
+and from that day he had a natural gift of divination, 
+so that he won fame thereby. 
+
+95. Deiphonus, the son of this Evenius, had been 
+brought by the Corinthians, and practised divination 
+for the army. But I have heard it said ere now, 
+that Deiphonus was no son of Evenius, but made a 
+wrongful use of that name, and wrought for wages 
+up and down Hellas. 
+
+96. Having won favourable omens, the Greeks 
+stood out to sea from Delos for Samos. When they 
+were now near Calamisa in the Samian territory, 
+they anchored there hard by the temple of Here 
+that is in those parts, and prepared for a sea-fight ; 
+the Persians, learning of their approach, stood like- 
+wise out to sea and made for the mainland, with all 
+their ships save the Phoenicians, whom they sent 
+sailing away. It was determined by them in council 
+that they would not do battle by sea; for they 
+
+
+271 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἐδόκεον ὅμοιοι εἶναι. ἐς δὲ τὴν ἤπειρον ἀπέπλεον, 
+ὅκως ἔωσι ὑπὸ τὸν πεξὸν στρατὸν τὸν σφέτερον 
+ἐόντα ἐν τῇ Μυκάλῃ, ὃς κελεύσαντος Ξέρξεω 
+καταλελειμμένος τοῦ ἄλλου στρατοῦ Ἰωνίην ἐφύ- 
+λασσε' τοῦ πλῆθος μὲν ἦν ἓξ μυριάδες, ἐ ἐστρατήγεε 
+δὲ αὐτοῦ Τιγράνης κάλλεϊ καὶ μεγάθεϊ ὑπερ- 
+φέρων Περσέων. ὑπὸ τοῦτον μὲν δὴ τὸν στρατὸν 
+ἐβουλεύσαντο καταφυγόντες οἱ τοῦ ναυτικοῦ 
+στρατηγοὶ ἀνειρύσαι. τὰς νέας καὶ περιβαλέσθαι 
+ἕρκος ἔρυμά τε τῶν νεῶν καὶ σφέων αὐτῶν 
+κρησφύγετον. 
+
+97. Ῥαῦτα βουλευσάμενοι ἀνήγοντο. ἀπικὸ- 
+μενοι δὲ παρὰ τὸ τῶν Ποτνιέων ἱρὸν τῆς Μυκάλης 
+ἐς Γαίσωνώ τε καὶ Σκολοπόεντα, τῇ Δήμητρος 
+᾿Ελευσινίης ἱρόν, τὸ Φίλιστος ὁ Πασικλέος ἱδρύ- 
+σατο Νείλεῳ τῷ Κόδρου ἐπισπόμενος ἐπὶ ἵν ἡ 
+κτιστύν, ἐνθαῦτα τάς τε νέας ἀνείρυσαν καὶ περι- 
+εβάλοντο ἕρκος καὶ λίθων καὶ ξύλων, δένδρεα 
+ἐκκόψαντες ἥμερα, καὶ σκόλοπας περὶ τὸ ἕρκος 
+κατέπηξαν, καὶ παρεσκευάδατο ὡς πολιορκη- 
+σόμενοι καὶ ὡς νικήσόντες, ἐπ᾽ ἀμφότερα ἐπιλε- 
+γόμενοι γὰρ παρεσκευάξοντο, 
+
+98. Οἱ δὲ “Ελληνες ὡς ἐπύθοντο οἰχωκότας 
+τοὺς βαρβάρους ἐς τὴν ἤπειρον, ἤχθοντο ὡς 
+ἐκπεφευγότων ἀπορίῃ τε εἴχοντο ὅ τι ποιέωσι, 
+εἴτε ἀπαλλάσσωνται ὀπίσω εἴτε καταπλέωσι 
+ἐπ᾽ Ἑλλησπόντου. τέλος δὲ ἔδοξε τούτων μὲν 
+μηδέτερα ποιέειν, ἐπιπλέειν δὲ ἐπὶ τὴν ἤπειρον. 
+παρασκευασάμενοι ὧν ἐς ναυμαχίην καὶ ἀπο- 
+BáÜpas καὶ ἄλλα ὅσων ἔδεε, ἔπλεον ἐπὶ τῆς 
+
+
+272 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 96-98 
+
+
+deemed themselves overmatched ; and the reason of 
+their making for the mainland was, that they might 
+lie under the shelter of their army at Mycale, which 
+had been left by Xerxes' command behind the rest 
+of his host to hold Ionia; there were sixty thousand 
+men in it, and Tigranes, the goodliest and tallest 
+man in Persia, was their general. It was the design 
+of the Persian admirals to flee to the shelter of that 
+army, and there to beach their ships and build a 
+fence round them which should be a protection for 
+the ships and a refuge for themselves. 
+
+97. With this design they put to sea. So when 
+they came past the temple of the Goddesses! at 
+Mycale to the Gaeson and Scolopois,? where is a 
+temple of Eleusinian Demeter (which was built 
+by Philistus son of Pasicles, when he went with 
+Nileus son of Codrus to the founding of Miletus), 
+there they beached their ships and fenced them 
+round with stones and trunks of orchard trees 
+that they cut down; and they drove in stakes round 
+the fence, and prepared for siege or victory, making 
+ready of deliberate purpose for either event. 
+
+98. When the Greeks learnt that the foreigners 
+were off and away to the mainland, they were ill- 
+pleased to think that their enemy had escaped 
+them, and doubted whether to return back or make 
+sail for the Hellespont. At the last they resolved 
+that they would do neither, but sail to the main- 
+land; and equipping themselves therefore with 
+gangways and all else needful for a sea-fight, they 
+
+
+! Demeter and Persephone. 
+
+1 The Gaeson was probably a stream running south of the 
+hill called Mycale; Scolopois, a place on its east bank (How 
+and Wells). 
+
+
+273 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Μυκάλης. ἐπεὶ δὲ ἀγχοῦ τε ἐγίνοντο τοῦ στρα- 
+τοπέδου καὶ οὐδεὶς ἐφαίνετό σφι ἐπαναγόμενος, 
+ἀλλ᾽ ὥρων νέας ἀνελκυσμένας ἔσω τοῦ τείχεος, 
+πολλὸν δὲ πεξὸν παρακεκριμένον παρὰ τὸν ai- 
+γιαλόν, ἐνθαῦτα πρῶτον μὲν ἐν τῇ νηὶ παραπλέων, 
+ἐγχρίμψας τῷ αἰγιαλῷ τὰ μάλιστα, Λευτυχίδης 
+ὑπὸ κήρυκος προηγόρευε τοῖσι Ἴωσι λέγων 
+««"Ανδρες ' loves, ot ὑμέων τυγχάνουσι ἐπακούοντες, 
+μάθετε τὰ λέγω" πάντως γὰρ οὐδὲν συνήσουσι 
+Πέρσαι τῶν ἐγὼ ὑμῖν ἐντέλλομαι. ἐπεὰν συμ- 
+μίσγωμεν, μεμνῆσθαι τινὰ Xp) ἐλευθερίης μὲν 
+πάντων πρῶτον, μετὰ δὲ τοῦ συνθήματος | Ἠβης. 
+καὶ τάδε ἴστω καὶ ὁ μὴ ἀκούσας ὑμέων πρὸς τοῦ 
+ἀκούσαντος." ὡυτὸς δὲ οὗτος ἐὼν τυγχάνει 
+νόος τοῦ πρήγματος καὶ ὁ Θεμιστοκλέος ὁ ἐπ᾽ 
+᾿Αρτεμισίῳ' ἣ yàp δὴ. λαθόντα τὰ ῥήματα τοὺς 
+βαρβάρους ἔμελλε TOUS "Ἴωνας πείσειν, ὴ ἔπειτα 
+ἀνενειχθέντα, ἐς τοὺς βαρβάρους ποιήσειν ari- 
+στους τοῖσι "[ζλλησι. 
+
+99. Λευτυχίδεω δὲ ταῦτα ὑποθεμένου δεύτερα 
+δὴ τάδε ἐποίευν οἱ Ἕλληνες" προσσχόντες τὰς 
+νέας ἀπέβησαν ἐς τὸν αἰγιαλόν. καὶ οὗτοι μὲν 
+ἐτάσσοντο, οἱ δὲ Πέρσαι ὡς εἶδον τοὺς "Ἕλληνας 
+παρασκευαξομένους ἐς μάχην͵ καὶ τοῖσι Ioct ma- 
+ραινέσαντας, τοῦτο μὲν ὑπονοήσαντες τοὺς Σαμίους 
+τὰ Ἑλλήνων φρονέειν ἀπαιρέονται τὰ ὅπλα. οἱ 
+γὰρ ὧν Σάμιοι ἀπικομένων ᾿Αθηναίων αἰχμαλώ- 
+των ἐν τῇσι νηυσὶ τῶν Βαρβάρων, τοὺς ἔλαβον 
+ἀνὰ τὴν ᾿Αττικὴν λελειμμένους οἱ Ἐϊέρξεω, τού- 
+τους λυσάμενοι πάντας ἀποπέμπουσι ἐποδιά- 
+σαντες ἐς ᾿Αθήνας" τῶν εἵνεκεν οὐκ ἥκιστα ὑπο- 
+ψίην εἶχον, πεντακοσίας κεφαλὰς τῶν Ξέρξεω 
+274 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. 98-99 
+
+
+held their course for Mycale. When they came 
+near to the camp and found none putting out to 
+meet them, and saw the ships beached within the 
+wall and a great host of men drawn up in array 
+along the strand, Leutychides thereupon first coasted 
+along in his ship, keeping as near to the shore as he 
+could, and made this proclamation to the Ionians by 
+the voice of a herald: “ Men of Ionia, you that hear 
+us, take heed of what I say! for in no case will the 
+Persians understand aught of my charge to you: 
+when we join battle, let a man remember first his 
+freedom, and next the battle-cry * Hebe’: and let him 
+that hears me not be told of this by him that hears." 
+The purpose of this act was the same as Themis- 
+tocles' purpose at Artemisium}; either the message 
+would be unknown to the foreigners and would 
+prevail with the Ionians, or if it were thereafter 
+reported to the foreigners it would make them to 
+mistrust their Greek allies. 
+
+99. After this counsel of Leutychides', the Greeks 
+next brought their ships to land and disembarked 
+on the beach, where they put themselves in array. 
+But the Persians, seeing the Greeks prepare for 
+battle and exhort the Ionians, first of all took away 
+the Samians’ armour, suspecting that they favoured 
+the Greeks; for indeed when the foreigners’ ships 
+brought certain Athenian captives, who had been 
+left in Attica and taken by Xerxes’ army, the 
+Samians had set them all free and sent them away 
+to Athens with provision for the way; for which 
+cause in especial they were held suspect, as having 
+set free five hundred souls of Xerxes’ enemies. 
+
+
+1 Op. viii. 22, 
+275 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+πολεμίων λυσάμενοι. τοῦτο δὲ τὰς διόδους τὰς ἐς 
+τὰς κορυφὰ as τῆς, Μυκάλης φερούσας προστάσσουσι 
+τοῖσι Μιλησίοισι φυλάσσειν ὡς ἐπισταμένοισι 
+δῆθεν μάλιστα τὴν χώρην. ἐποίευν δὲ τοῦτο 
+τοῦδε εἴνεκεν, ἵνα ἐκτὸς τοῦ στρατοπέδου ἔωσι. 
+τούτους μὲν Ἰώνων, τοῖσι καὶ κατεδόκεον νεοχμὸν 
+ἄν τι ποιέειν δυνάμιος ἐπιλαβομένοισι, τρόποισι 
+τοιούτοισι προεφυλάσσοντο οἱ Πέρσαι, αὐτοὶ δὲ 
+συνεφόρησαν τὰ γέρρα ἕρκος εἶναι σφίσι. 
+
+100. Ὡς δὲ ὁ ἄρα παρεσκευάδατο τοῖσι “ΟΌλλησι, 
+προσήισαν πρὸς τοὺς βαρβάρους: ἰοῦσι δέ σφι 
+φήμη τε ἐσέπτατο ἐς τὸ στρατόπεδον πᾶν καὶ 
+κηρυκήιον ἐφάνη ἐπὶ τῆς κυματώγης κεύμενον' η 
+δὲ φήμη διῆλθέ σφι ὧδε, ὡς οἱ "[Όλληνες τὴν 
+Μαρδονίου στρατιὴν νικῷεν ἐν Βοιωτοῖσι μαχό- 
+μενοι. δῆλα δὴ πολλοῖσι τεκμηρίοισι ἐστὶ τὰ 
+θεῖα τῶν πρηγμάτων, εἰ καὶ τότε, τῆς αὐτῆς 
+ἡμέρης συμπιπτούσης τοῦ τε ἐν Ἡλαταιῇσι καὶ 
+τοῦ ἐν Μυκάλῃ μέλλοντος ἔσεσθαι «τρώματος, 
+φήμη τοῖσι ἝἛλλησι τοῖσι ταύτῃ ἐσαπίκετο, ὥστε 
+θαρσῆσαί τε τὴν στρατιὴν πολλῷ μᾶλλον καὶ 
+ἐθέλειν προθυμότερον κινδυνεύειν. 
+
+101. Καὶ τόδε ἕτερον συνέπεσε γενόμενον, 
+Δήμητρος τεμένεα ᾿Ελευσινίης παρὰ ἀμφοτέρας 
+τὰς συμβολὰς εἶναι" καὶ γὰρ δὴ ἐν τῇ Ἡλαταιίδι 
+παρ αὐτὸ τὸ Δημήτριον ἐγίνετο, ὡς καὶ πρότερόν 
+μοι εἴρηται, ἡ μάχη, καὶ ἐν Μυκάλῃ ἔμελλε 
+ὡσαύτως ἔσεσθαι. γεγονέναι δὲ νίκην τῶν μετὰ 
+Παυσανίεω Ἑλλήνων ὀρθῶς σφι ἡ φήμη συνέ- 
+βαινε ἐλθοῦσα" τὸ μὲν γὰρ ἐν Ἡλαταιῇσι πρωὶ 
+ἔτι τῆς ἡμέρης ἐγίνετο, τὸ δὲ ἐν Μυκάλῃ περὶ 
+δείλην: ὅτι δὲ τῆς αὐτῆς ἡμέρης συνέβαινε 
+276 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 99-1or 
+
+
+Furthermore, they appointed the Milesians to guard 
+the passes leading to the heights of Mycale, alleging 
+that they were best acquainted with the country; 
+but their true reason for so doing was, that the 
+Milesians should be away from the rest of their 
+army. In such manner did the Persians safeguard 
+themselves from those Ionians who (they supposed) 
+might turn against them if opportunity were given ; 
+for themselves, they set their shields close to make 
+a barricade. 
+
+100. The Greeks, having made all preparation, 
+advanced their line against the foreigners. Ας they 
+went, a rumour sped all about the army, and a 
+herald's wand was seen lying by the water-line; 
+and the rumour that ran was to the effect that the 
+Greeks were victors over Mardonius’ army at a 
+battle in Bocotia. Now there are many clear proofs 
+of the divine ordering of things; seeing that at this 
+time, the Persians’ disaster at Plataeae falling on 
+the same day as that other which was to befall them 
+at Mycale, the rumour came to the Greeks at that 
+place, whereby their army was greatly heartened 
+and the readier to face danger. 
+
+101. Moreover there was this other coincidence, 
+that there were precincts of Eleusinian Demeter on 
+both battlefields; for at Plataeae the fight was hard 
+by the temple of Demeter, as I have already said, 
+and so it was to be at Mycale likewise. It so fell 
+out that the rumour of victory won by the Greeks 
+with Pausanias spoke truth; for the defeat οι 
+Plataeae happened while it was yet early in the 
+day, and the defeat of Mycale in the afternoon. 
+That the two fell on the same day of the same 
+
+
+277 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+γίνεσθαι μηνός τε τοῦ αὐτοῦ, χρόνῳ οὐ πολλῷ 
+σφι ὕστερον δῆλα ἀναμανθάνουσι ἐγίνετο. ἦν δὲ 
+ἀρρωδίη σφι, πρὶν τὴν φήμην ἐσαπικέσθαι, οὔτι 
+περὶ σφέων αὐτῶν οὕτω ὡς τών Ἑλλήνων, μὴ 
+περὶ Μαρδονίῳ πταίσῃ ἡ [λλάς. ὡς μέντοι 7 
+κληδὼν αὕτη σφι ἐσέπτατο, μᾶλλόν τι καὶ ταχύ- 
+τερον τὴν πρόσοδον ἐποιεῦντο. οἱ μὲν δὴ" Ἕλληνες 
+καὶ οἱ βάρβαροι | ἔσπευδον ἐς τὴν μάχην, ὥς σφι 
+καί αἱ νῆσοι καὶ ὁ Ἑλλήσποντος ἄεθλα προέκειτο. 
+
+102. Τοῖσι μέν νυν ᾿Αθηναίοισι καὶ τοῖσι προσ- 
+εχέσι τούτοισι τεταγμένοισι, μέχρι κου τῶν 
+ἡμισέων, ἡ 060g -ἐγίνετο κατ αἰγιαλόν τε καὶ 
+ἄπεδον χῶρον, τοῖσι δὲ Λακεδαιμονίοισι καὶ τοῖσι 
+ἐπεξῆς τούτοισι. τεταγμένοισι κατά τε χαράδραν 
+καὶ ὄρεα. ἐν ὦ δὲ οἱ Λακεδαιμόνιοι περιήισαν, 
+οὗτοι οἱ ἐπὶ τῷ ἑτέρῳ κέρεϊ ἔτι καὶ δὴ ἐμάχοντο. 
+ἕως μέν νυν τοῖσι Πέρσῃσι ὀρθὰ ἡ ἦν. τὰ γέρρα, ἡμύ- 
+νοντό τε καὶ οὐδὲν ἔλασσον εἶχον τῇ μάχῃ" ἐπεὶ ὲ 
+τῶν ᾿Αθηναίων καὶ τῶν προσεχέων ὁ στρατός, ὅκως 
+ἑωυτῶν γένηται τὸ ἔργον καὶ μὴ Λακεδαιμονίων, 
+παρακελευσάμενοι ἔργου εἴχοντο προθυμότερον, 
+ἐνθεῦτεν ἤδη ἑτεροιοῦτο τὸ πρῆγμα. διωσάμενοι 
+γὰρ τὰ γέρρα οὗτοι φερόμενοι ἐσέπεσον ἁλέες ἐς 
+τοὺς Πέρσας, οἳ δὲ δεξάμενοι. καὶ χρόνον συχνὸν 
+ἀμυνόμενοι τέλος ἔφευγον ἐς τὸ τεῖχος. ᾿Αθηναῖοι 
+δὲ καὶ Κορίνθιοι καὶ Σικυώνιοι καὶ Τροιζήνιοι 
+(οὕτω γὰρ ἦσαν ἐπεξῆς τεταγμένοι) συνεπισπό- 
+μενοι συνεσέπιπτον ἐς τὸ τεῖχος. ὡς δὲ καὶ τὸ 
+τεῖχος ἀραίρητο, οὔτ᾽ ἔτι πρὸς ἀλκὴν ἐτράποντο 
+οἱ βάρβαροι" πρὸς φυγήν τε ὁρμέατο οἱ ἄλλοι πλὴν 
+
+ερσέων' οὗτοι δὲ κατ᾽ ὀλίγους γινόμενοι ἐμά- 
+
+
+218 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. 101-102 
+
+
+month was proved to the Greeks when they examined 
+the matter not long afterwards. Now before this 
+rumour came they had been faint-hearted, fearing 
+less for themselves than for the Greeks with Pau- 
+sanias, lest Mardonius should be the stumbling- 
+block of Hellas; but when the report sped among 
+them they grew stronger and swifter in their onset. 
+So Greeks and foreigners alike were eager for 
+battle, seeing that the islands and the Hellespont 
+were the prizes of victory. 
+
+102. As for the Athenians and those whose place 
+was nearest them, that is, for about half of the line, 
+their way lay over the beach and level ground ; for 
+the Lacedaemonians and those that were next to 
+them, through a ravine and among hills; and while 
+the Lacedaemonians were making a circuit, those 
+others on the other wing were already fighting. 
+While the Persians’ shields stood upright, they 
+defended themselves and held their own in the 
+battle; but when the Athenians and their neigh- 
+bours in the line passed the word and went more 
+zealously to work, that they and not the Lacedae- 
+monians might win the victory, immediately the 
+face of the fight was changed. Breaking down the 
+shields they charged all together into the midst of 
+the Persians, who received the onset and stood their 
+ground for a long time, but at the last fled within 
+their wall; and the Athenians and Corinthians and 
+Sicyonians and Troezenians, who were next to each 
+other in the line, followed hard after and rushed in 
+together likewise. But when the walled place was 
+won, the foreigners made no further defence, but 
+took to flight, all save the Persians, who gathered 
+themselves into bands of a few men and fought 
+
+
+279 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+XOVTO 3 τοῖσι αἰεὶ ἐς τὸ τεῖχος ἐσπίπτουσι Ἑλλήνων. 
+καὶ τῶν στρατηγῶν τῶν Ἡερσικῶν δύο μὲν ἀπο- 
+φεύγουσι, δύο δὲ τελευτῶσι" ᾿Αρταὔντης μὲν καὶ 
+Ἰθαμίτρης τοῦ ναυτικοῦ στρατηγέοντες ἆπο- 
+φεύγουσι, Μαρδόντης δὲ καὶ ὁ τοῦ πεζοῦ στρα- 
+τηγὸς Τιγράνης μαχόμενοι τελευτῶσι. 
+
+103. "τι δὲ μαχομένων. τῶν [Περσέων ἀπίκοντο 
+Λακεδαιμόνιοι καὶ oL μετ᾽ αὐτῶν, καὶ τὰ λοιπὰ 
+συνδιεχείριξον. ἔπεσον δὲ καὶ αὐτῶν τῶν 'EA- 
+λήνων συχνοὶ ἐνθαῦτα ἄλλοι τε καὶ Συκυώνιοι 
+καὶ στρατηγὸς .Περίλεως- τῶν τε Σαμίων οἱ 
+στρατευόμενοι ἐόντες τε ἐν τῷ στρατοπέδῳ τῷ 
+Μηδικῷ καὶ ἀπαραιρημένοι τὰ ὅπλα, ὡς εἶδον 
+αὐτίκα κατ ἀρχὰς γινομένην ἑτεραλκέα τὴν μά- 
+χην, ἔρδον ὅ ὅσον ἐδυνέατο προσωφελέειν ἐθέλοντες 
+τοῖσι "Ελλησι. Σαμίους δὲ ἰδόντες οἱ ἄλλοι 
+Ἴωνες ἄρξαντας οὕτω δὴ καὶ αὐτοὶ ἀποστάντες 
+ἀπὸ Περσέων ἐπέθεντο τοῖσι βαρβάροισι. 
+
+104. Μιλησίοισι δὲ προσετέτακτο μὲν ἐκ τῶν 
+Περσέων τὰς διόδους τηρέειν σωτηρίης εἶνεκά σφι, 
+ὡς ἣν ἄρα σφέας καταλαμβάνῃ οἷά περ κατέλαβε, 
+ἔχοντες ἡγεμόνας σώξωνται ἐς τὰς κορυφὰς τῆς 
+Μυκάλης. ἐτάχθησαν μέν νυν ἐπὶ τοῦτο τὸ 
+
+πρῆγμα οἱ Μιλήσιοι τούτου τε εἵνεκεν καὶ ἵνα μὴ 
+παρεόντες ἐν τῷ στρατοπέδῳ qp νεοχμὸν ποιέοιεν' 
+οἳ δὲ πᾶν τοὐναντίον τοῦ προστεταγµένου ἐποίεον, 
+ἄλλας τε κατηγεόμενοί σφι ὁδοὺς φεύγουσι, αἳ 
+δὴ ἔφερον ἐς τοὺς πολεμίους, καὶ τέλος αὐτοί σφι 
+ἐγίνοντο κτείνοντες πολεμιώτατοι. οὕτω δὴ τὸ 
+δεύτερον 'lovig ἀπὸ Περσέων ἀπέστη. 
+
+
+280 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. ro2-104 
+
+
+with whatever Greeks came rushing within the walls. 
+Of the Persian leaders two escaped by flight and two 
+were slain; Artayntes and Ithamitres, who were 
+admirals of the fleet, escaped; Mardontes and 
+Tigranes, the general of the land army, were slain 
+fighting. 
+
+103. While the Persians still fought, the Lacedae- 
+monians and their comrades came up, and finished 
+what was left of the business. The Greeks too lost 
+many men there, notably the men of Sicyon and 
+their general Perilaus. As for the Samians who 
+served in the Median army, and had been disarmed, 
+they, seeing from the first that victory hung in the 
+balance,! did what they could in their desire to aid 
+the Greeks; and when the other Ionians saw the 
+Samians set the example, they also thereupon de- 
+serted the Persians and attacked the foreigners. 
+
+104. The Persians had for their own safety 
+appointed the Milesians to watch the passes, so 
+that if haply aught should befall the Persian army 
+such as did befall it, they might have guides 
+to bring them safe to the heights of Mycale. 
+This was the task to which the Milesians were 
+appointed, for the aforesaid reason, and that they 
+might not be present with the army and so turn 
+against it. But they did wholly contrariwise to the 
+charge laid upon them ; they misguided the fleeing 
+Persians by ways that led them among their 
+enemies, and at last themselves became their worst 
+enemies and slew them. Thus did Ionia for the 
+second time revolt from the Persians. 
+
+
+1 ἑτεραλκὴς here probably means ** doubtful,” giving victory 
+to one side or other; cp. vii. 11; in Homer it means '' de- 
+cisive," giving victory to one as opposed to the other. 
+
+
+281 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+^ [4 4 
+105. Ἐν δὲ ταύτη τῇ μάχη ᾿Βλλήνων ἠρίσ- 
+3 ^ / € 
+τευσαν ᾿Αθηναῖοι καὶ ᾿Αθηναίων 'EpuóXvxos ὁ 
+Εὐθοίνου, ἀνὴρ παγκράτιον ἐπασκήσας. τοῦτον 
+, ” 
+. N € [4 / e * 
+δὲ τὸν 'EpuóAvkov κατέλαβε ὕστερον τούτων, 
+/ 34. 3 / / N / 
+πολέμου ἐόντος Αθηναίοισί τε καὶ Καρυστίοισι, 
+4 m^ [4 L4 » ’ 
+ἐν Κύρνῳ τῆς Καρυστίης χώρης ἀποθανόντα ἐν 
+’ ^ P AN ^ . \ 3 / 
+μάχῃ κεῖσθαι ἐπὶ Γεραιστῷ. μετὰ δὲ ᾿Αθηναίους 
+Κορίνθιοι καὶ Τροιζήνιοι καὶ Σικυώνιοι ἠρίστευσαν. 
+(d 
+106. ᾿Επείτε δὲ κατεργάσαντο ot" EXXqves τοὺς 
+\ A . / X λ \ / 
+πολλοὺς TOUS μὲν μαχομένους τοὺς δὲ καὶ φεύγον- 
+- N , / N 
+τας τῶν βαρβάρων, τᾶς νέας ἐνέπρησαν καὶ TO 
+^ ε N / / 
+τεῖχος ἅπαν, τὴν ληΐην προεξαγαγόντες ἐς τὸν 
+f / 
+αἰγιαλόν, καὶ θησαυρούς τινας χρημάτων εὗρον' 
+^ \ / 
+ἐμπρήσαντες δὲ τὸ τεῖχος καὶ τὰς νέας ἀπέπλεον. 
+\ / 
+ἀπικόμενοι δὲ ἐς Σάμον οἱ "Ελληνες ἐβουλεύοντο 
+/ ^ / e ^ 
+περὶ ἀναστάσιος τῆς ᾿Ιωνίης, καὶ ὅκη χρεὸν εἴη τῆς 
+ε ’ / ^ , NC 4 9 \ 
+Ελλάδος κατοικίσαι τῆς αὐτοὶ ἐγκρατέες ἦσαν, τὴν 
+7 ^ m^ 
+δὲ Ἰωνίην ἀπεῖναι τοῖσι βαρβάροισι" ἀδύνατον γὰρ 
+΄ ^ 
+ἐφαίνετό σφι εἶναι ἑωυτούς τε Ιώνων προκατῆσθαι 
+[4 8 ^ 
+ουρέοντας τὸν πάντα χρόνον, καὶ ἑωυτῶν μὴ Tr po- 
+ρ μὴ πρ 
+/ / 
+κατηµένων lavas οὐδεμίαν ἐλπίδα εἶχον χαίροντας 
+N ^ / , / A A 
+προς τῶν Περσέων ἀπαλλάξειν. πρὸς ταῦτα Lle- 
+λοποννησίων μὲν τοῖσι ἐν τέλεϊ ἐοῦσι ἐδόκεε τῶν 
+΄ 5 / ^ e ^ Me Ὁ ^ 
+μηδισάντων ἐθνέων τῶν Ελληνικῶν τὰ ἐμπολαῖα 
+^ M y 
+ἐξαναστήσαντας δοῦναι τὴν χώρην Ἴωσι ἐνοι- 
+^ , / δὲ 3 280 2 A 5 / 
+κῆσαι, ᾿Αθηναίοισι δὲ οὐκ ἐδόκεε ἀρχὴν ᾿Ιωνίην 
+/ 
+γενέσθαι ἀνάστατον οὐδὲ Πελοποννησίοισι περὶ 
+τῶν σφετερέων ἀποικιέων βουλεύειν' ἀντιτεινόν- 
+A / ^ 3 e / 
+των δὲ τούτων προθύμως, εἶξαν οἱ Πελοποννήσιοι. 
+292 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 105-106 
+
+
+105. In that battle those of the Greeks that 
+fought best were the Athenians, and the Athenian 
+that fought best was one who practised the pancra- 
+tium,! Hermolycus son of Euthoenus. This Hermo- 
+lycus on a later day met his death in battle at Cyrnus 
+in Carystus during a war between the Athenians 
+and Carystians, and lay dead on Geraestus. Those 
+that fought best next after the Athenians were the 
+men of Corinth and Troezen and Sicyon. 
+
+106. When the Greeks had made an end of most 
+of the foreigners, either in battle or in flight, they 
+brought out their booty on to the beach, and 
+found certain stores of wealth; then they burnt the 
+ships and the whole of the wall, which having 
+burnt they sailed away. When they were arrived at 
+Samos, they debated in council whether they should 
+dispeople lonia, and in what Greek lands under their 
+dominion it were best to plant the Ionians, leaving 
+the country itself to the foreigners; for it seemed 
+to them impossible to stand on guard between 
+the Ionians and their enemies for ever; yet if they 
+should not so stand, they had no hope that the 
+Persians would suffer the Ionians to go unpunished. 
+In this matter the Peloponnesians that were in 
+authority were for removing the people from the 
+marts of those Greek nations that had sided with 
+the Persians, and giving their land to the Ionians 
+to dwell in; but the Athenians misliked the whole 
+design of dispeopling lonia, or suffering the Pelopon- 
+nesians to determine the lot of Athenian colonies ; 
+and as they resisted hotly, the Peloponnesians 
+
+
+* The “pancratium” was a mixture of boxing and 
+wrestling. 
+
+
+283 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+καὶ οὕτω δὴ Σαμίους τε καὶ Χίους καὶ Λεσβίους 
+καὶ τοὺς ἄλλους νησιώτας, οἳ ἔτυχον συστρα- 
+τευόμενοι. τοῖσι"Ελλησι, ἐς τὸ συμμαχικὸν ἐποιή- 
+σαντο, πίστι Te καταλαβόντες καὶ ὁρκίοισι ἐμ- 
+μενέειν τε καὶ μὴ ἀποστήσεσθαι. τούτους δὲ 
+καταλαβόντες ὁρκίοισι ἔπλεον τὰς γεφύρας λύ- 
+σοντες' ἔτι γὰρ ἐδόκεον ἐντεταμένας εὑρήσειν. 
+οὗτοι μὲν δὴ ἐπ᾽ “Ελλησπόντου ἔπλεον. 
+
+107. Τῶν δὲ ἀποφυγόντων βαρβάρων ἐς τὰ 
+ἄκρα τῆς Μυκάλης κατειληθέντων, ἐόντων οὐ 
+πολλῶν, ἐγίνετο κομιδὴ ἐς Σάρδις. πορευομένων 
+δὲ κατ᾽ ὁδὸν Μασίστης ὁ Δαρείου παρατυχὼν τῷ 
+malei τῷ γεγονότι τὸν στρατηγὸν ᾿Αρταὔντην 
+ἔλεγε πολλά τε καὶ κακά, ἄλλα τε καὶ γυναικὸς 
+κακίω φὰς αὐτὸν εἶναι τοιαῦτα στρατηγήσαντα, 
+καὶ ἄξιον εἶναι παντὸς κακοῦ τὸν βασιλέος οἶκον 
+κακώσαντα. παρὰ δὲ τοῖσι Πέρσῃσι γυναικὸς 
+κακίω ἀκοῦσαι δέννος μέγιστος ἐστι. ὃ δὲ ἐπεὶ 
+πολλὰ ἤκουσε, δεινὰ ποιεύμενος σπᾶται ἐπὶ τὸν 
+Μασίστην τὸν ἀκινάκην, ἀποκτεῖναι θέλων. καί 
+μιν ἐπιθέοντα φρασθεὶς Ξειναγόρης ὁ Πρηξίλεω 
+ἀνὴρ “Αλικαρνησσεὺς ὄπισθε ἑστεὼς αὐτοῦ Ap- 
+ταὔντεω ἁρπάξει μέσον καὶ ἐξαείρας παίει ἐς 
+τὴν γῆν' καὶ ἐν τούτῳ οἱ δορυφόροι οἱ Μασίστεω 
+προέστησαν. 0 δὲ Ξειναγόρης ταῦτα ἐργάσατο 
+χάριτα αὐτῷ τε Μασίστῃ τιθέμενος καὶ Ξέρξη, 
+ἐκσώξων τὸν ἀδελφεὸν τὸν ἐκείνου: καὶ διὰ τοῦτο 
+τὸ ἔργον Ξειναγόρης Κιλικίης πάσης Ίρξε δόντος 
+Βασιλέος. τῶν δὲ κατ᾽ ὁδὸν πορευομένων οὐδὲν 
+ἐπὶ πλέον τούτων ἐγένετο, ἀλλ᾽ ἀπικνέονται ἐς 
+Σάρδις. 
+
+108. ᾿Εν δὲ τῆσι Σάρδισι ἐτύγχανε ἐὼν Bacı- 
+254 
+
+
+BOOK IX. τού-ιοῦ 
+
+
+yielded. Thus it came about that they admitted 
+to their alliance the Samians, Chians, Lesbians, and 
+all other islanders who had served with their arma- 
+ments, and bound them by pledge and oaths to 
+remain faithful and not desert their allies; who 
+being thus sworn, the Greeks set sail to break the 
+bridges, supposing that these still held fast. So 
+they laid their course for the Hellespont. 
+
+107. The few foreigners who escaped were driven 
+to the heights of Mycale, and made their way thence 
+to Sardis. While they were journeying on the road, 
+Masistes son of Darius, who had chanced to be 
+present at the Persian disaster, reviled the admiral 
+Artayntes very bitterly, telling him (with much 
+beside) that such generalship as his proved him 
+worse than a woman, and that no punishment was 
+too bad for the hurt he had wrought to the king's 
+house. Nowit is the greatest of all taunts in Persia 
+to be called worse than a woman. These many 
+insults so angered Artayntes, that he drew his sword 
+upon Masistes to kill him; but Xenagoras son of 
+Praxilaus of Halicarnassus, who stood behind 
+Artayntes himself, saw him run at Masistes, and 
+caught him round the middle and lifted and hurled 
+him to the ground; meanwhile Masistes' guards 
+came between them. By so doing Xenagoras won 
+the gratitude of Masistes himself and Xerxes, for 
+saving the king's brother; for which deed he was 
+made ruler of all Cilicia by the king's gift. They 
+went then on their way without any outcome of the 
+matter, and came to Sardis. 
+
+108. Now it chanced that the king had been at 
+
+
+285 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+λεὺς ἐξ ἐκείνου τοῦ χρόνου, ἐπείτε ἐξ ᾿Αθηνέων 
+προσπταίσας τῇ ναυμαχίῃ φυγὼν ἀπίκετο. τότε 
+δὴ ἐν τῇσι Σάρδισι ἐὼν ἄρα ἤρα τῆς Μασίστεω 
+γυναικός, ἐούσης καὶ ταύτης ἐνθαῦτα. ὡς δέ οἱ 
+προσπέμποντι οὐκ ἐδύνατο κατεργασθῆναι, οὐδὲ 
+βίην προσεφέρετο προμηθεόµενος τὸν ἀδελφεὸν 
+Μασίστην: τὠυτὸ δὲ τοῦτο εἶχε καὶ τὴν γυναῖκα: 
+εὖ γὰρ ἐπίστατο βίης οὐ τευξομένη: ἐνθαῦτα δὴ 
+Ξέρξης ἐργόμενος τῶν ἄλλων πρήσσει τὸν γάμον 
+τοῦτον τῷ παιδὶ τῷ ἑωυτοῦ Δαρείω, θυγατέρα τῆς 
+γυναικὸς ταύτης καὶ Μασίστεω, δοκέων αὐτὴν 
+μᾶλλον λάμψεσθαι ἣν ταῦτα ποιήσῃ. ἁρμόσας 
+δὲ καὶ τὰ νομιζόμενα ποιήσας ἀπήλαυνε ἐς Σοῦσα' 
+ἐπεὶ δὲ ἐκεῖ τε ἀπίκετο καὶ ἠγάγετο ἐς ἑωυτοῦ 
+Δαρείῳ τὴν γυναῖκα, οὕτω δὴ τῆς Μασίστεω μὲν 
+γυναικὸς ἐπέπαυτο, ὃ δὲ διαμειγ-άμενος ἤρα τε 
+καὶ ἐτύγχανε τῆς Δαρείου μὲν γυναικὸς Μασίστεω 
+δὲ θυγατρός" οὔνομα δὲ τῇ γυναικὶ ταύτῃ ἣν 
+Αρταῦντη. 
+
+105. Χρόνου δὲ προϊόντος ἀνάπυστα γίνεται 
+τρόπῳ τοιῷδε. ἐξυφήνασα "Άμηστρις ἡ ) Ξέρξεω 
+γυνὴ φᾶρος μέγα τε καὶ ποικίλον καὶ dis ἄξιον 
+διδοῦ Ξέρξη. ὃ δὲ ἡσθεὶς περιβάλλεταί τε καὶ 
+ἔρχεται παρὰ τὴν ᾿Αρταὔντην' ἡσθεὶς δὲ καὶ 
+ταύτῃ ἐκέλευσε αὐτὴν αἰτῆσαι ὅ τι ,Bosxerat οἱ 
+γενέσθαι ἀντὶ τῶν αὐτῷ ὑπουργημένων' πάντα 
+γὰρ τεύξεσθαι αἰτήσασαν. TH δὲ κακῶς γὰρ ἔδεε 
+πανοικίῃ γενέσθαι, πρὸς ταῦτα εἶπε Ξέρξη “ Aw- 
+σεις μοι τὸ ἄν σε αἰτήσω ; ὃ δὲ πᾶν μᾶλλον 
+δοκέων κείνην αἰτῆσαι ὑπισχνέετο καὶ ὤμοσε. 
+δὲ ὡς ὤμοσε ἀδεῶς αἰτέει τὸ φᾶρος. Ἑέρξης δὲ 
+παντοῖος ἐγίνετο οὐ βουλόμενος δοῦναι, κατ᾽ ἄλλο 
+256 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. 108-109 
+
+
+Sardis ever since he came thither in flight from 
+Athens after his overthrow in the sea-fight. Being 
+then at Sardis he became enamoured of Masistes' 
+wife, who was also at that place. But as all his 
+messages could not bring her to yield to him, and 
+he would not force her to his will, out of regard for 
+his brother Masistes (which indeed wrought with 
+the woman also, for she knew well that no force 
+would be used with her), Xerxes found no other 
+way to his purpose than that he should make a 
+marriage between his own son Darius and the 
+daughter of this woman and Masistes; for he 
+thought that by so doing he would be likeliest 
+to get her. So he betrothed them with all due 
+ceremony, and rode away to Susa. But when he 
+was come thither and had taken Darius' bride into 
+his house, he thought no more of Masistes' wife, 
+but changed about, and wooed and won this girl 
+Artaynte, Darius' wife and Masistes' daughter. 
+109. But as time went on the truth came to light, 
+and in such manner as I will show. Xerxes’ wife, 
+Amestris, wove and gave to him a great gaily- 
+coloured mantle, wondrous to behold. Xerxes was 
+pleased with it, and went wearing it to Artaynte ; 
+and being pleased with her too, he bade her ask for 
+what she would have in return for her favours, for 
+he would deny nothing at her asking. Thereat— 
+for she and all her house were doomed to evil—she 
+said to Xerxes, * Will you give me whatever I ask 
+of you?" and he promised and swore it, supposing 
+that she would ask anything but that; but when 
+he had sworn, she asked boldly for his mantle. 
+Xerxes strove hard to refuse her, for no cause save 
+
+
+287 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+μὲν οὐδέν, φοβεόμενος δὲ "Αμηστρι», μὴ καὶ πρὶν 
+κατεικαξούσῃ τὰ γινόμενα οὕτω ἐπευρεθῇ, πρήσ- 
+σων' ἀλλὰ πόλις τε ἐδίδου καὶ χρυσὸν ἄπλετον 
+καὶ. στρατόν, τοῦ ἔμελλε οὐδεὶς ἄρξειν ἀλλ ἢ 
+ἐκείνη. Περσικὸν δὲ κάρτα o στρατὸς δῶρον. 
+ἀλλ. οὐ γὰρ ἔπειθε, διδοῖ τὸ φᾶρος. ἣ δὲ περιχαρὴς 
+ἐοῦσα τῷ δώρῳ ἐφόρεέ τε καὶ ἀγάλλετο. 
+
+110. Καὶ ἡ 7) "A paja Tpis πυνθάνεταί μιν ἔχουσαν: 
+μαθοῦσα δὲ τὸ ποιεύμενον τῇ μὲν γυναικὶ ταύτῃ 
+οὐκ εἶχε ἔγκοτον, ἣ δὲ ἐλπίζουσα τὴν μητέρα 
+αὐτῆς εἶναι αἰτίην καὶ ταῦτα ἐκείνην πρήσσειν, 
+τῇ Μασίστεω γυναικὶ ἐβούλευε ὄλεθρον. φυλά- 
+ἕασα δὲ τὸν ἄνδρα τὸν ἑωυτῆς Ξέρξην βασιλήιον 
+δεῖπνον προτιθέµενον' τοῦτο δὲ τὸ δεῖπνον Tapa- 
+σκευάζεται ἅπαξ τοῦ ἐνιαυτοῦ ἡμέρῃ τῇ ἐγένετο 
+Βασιλεύς. οὔνομα δὲ τῷ δείπνῳ τούτῳ περσιστὶ 
+μὲν τυκτά, κατὰ δὲ τὴν Ἑλλήνων γλῶσσαν τέλει- 
+ov τότε καὶ τὴν κεφαλὴν σμᾶται μοῦνον Pası- 
+λεὺς καὶ Πέρσας δωρέεται' ταύτην δὴ τὴν ἡμέρην 
+φυλάξασα ἡ ΄Άμηστρις χρηίξει τοῦ Ξέρξεω δο- 
+θῆναί οἱ τὴν Μασίστεω γυναῖκα. ὃ δὲ δεινόν τε 
+καὶ ἀνάρσιον ἐποιέετο τοῦτο μὲν ἀδελφεοῦ γυναῖκα 
+παραδοῦναι, τοῦτο δὲ ἀναιτίην ἐοῦσαν τοῦ πρήγ- 
+ματος τούτου' συνῆκε γὰρ τοῦ εἵνεκεν ἐδέετο. 
+
+111. Τέλος μέντοι ἐκείνης τε λιπαρεούσης καὶ 
+ὑπὸ τοῦ νόμου ἐξεργόμενος, ὅτι ἀτυχῆσαι τὸν 
+χρηίζοντα οὔ σφι δυνατόν ἐστι βασιληίου δείπνου 
+προκειμένου, κάρτα δὴ ἀέκων κατανεύει, καὶ 
+παραδοὺς ποιέει ὧδε" τὴν μὲν κελεύει ποιέειν τὰ 
+βούλεται, ὃ δὲ μεταπεμψάμενος τὸν ἀδελφεὸν 
+λέγει τάδε. “ Μασίστα, σὺ εἷς Δαρείου τε παῖς 
+καὶ ἐμὸς ἀδελφεός, πρὸς ὃ ἔτι τούτοισι καὶ εἷς 
+288 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 109-111 
+
+
+that he feared lest Amestris might have plain proof 
+of his doing what she already guessed; and he 
+offered her cities instead, and gold in abundance, 
+and an army for none but herself to command. 
+Armies are the properest of gifts in Persia. But as 
+he could not move her, he gave her the mantle; and 
+she, rejoicing greatly in the gift, went flaunting her 
+finery. 
+
+110. Amestris heard that she had the mantle; 
+but when she learnt the truth her anger was not 
+with the girl ; she supposed rather that the girl's 
+mother was guilty and that this was her doing, and 
+so it was Masistes’ wife that she plotted to destroy. 
+She waited therefore till Xerxes her husband should 
+be giving his royal feast. ‘This banquet is served once 
+a year,on the king’s birthday; the Persian name for 
+it is *tukta," which is in the Greek language 
+* perfect” ; on that day (and none other) the king 
+anoints his head, and makes gifts to the Persians. 
+Waiting for that day, Amestris then desired of 
+Xerxes that Masistes' wife should be given to her. 
+Xerxes held it a terrible and wicked act to give up 
+his brother's wife, and that too when she was guilt- 
+less of the deed supposed ; for he knew the purpose 
+of the request. 
+
+111. Nevertheless, Amestris being instant, and 
+the law constraining him (for at this royal banquet 
+in Persia every boon asked must of necessity be 
+granted), he did very unwillingly consent, and 
+delivered the woman to Amestris; then, bidding 
+her do what she would, he sent for his brother and 
+thus spoke: “ Masistes, you are Darius’ son and my 
+brother, yea, and a right good man; hear me then ; 
+
+
+289 
+VOL. UV. L 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἀνὴρ ἀγαθός" γυναικὶ δὴ ταύτῃ τῇ νῦν συνοικξεις 
+μὴ συνοίκεε, ἀλλά του ἀντ᾽ αὐτῆς ἐγὼ δίδωμι θυγα- 
+τέρα. τὴν ἐμήν. ταύτῃ συνοίκεε" τὴν δὲ νῦν ἔχεις, 
+οὗ γὰρ δοκέει ἐμοί, μ μὴ ἔχε γυναῖκα. ὁ δὲ Μασί- 
+στης ἀποθωμάσας τὰ λεγόμενα. λέγει τάδε. “Ὢ 
+δέσποτα, τίνα μοι λόγον λέγεις ἄχρηστον, κελεύων 
+µε γυναῖκα, ἐκ τῆς μοι παῖδές τε νεηνίαι εἰσὶ καὶ 
+θυγατέρες, τῶν καὶ σὺ μίαν τῷ παιδὶ τῷ σεωυτοῦ 
+ἠγάγεο γυναῖκα, αὐτή τέ μοι κατὰ νόον τυγχάνει 
+κάρτα ἐοῦσα" ταύτην με κελεύεις μετέντα θυγα- 
+τέρα τὴν σὴν γῆμαι ; ἐγὼ δὲ βασιλεῦ μεγάλα μὲν 
+ποιεῦμαι ἀξιεύμενος θυγατρὸς τῆς σῆς, ποιήσω 
+μέντοι τούτων οὐδέτερα. σὺ δὲ μηδαμῶς βιῶ 
+πρήγματος τοιοῦδε δέοµενος" ἀλλὰ τῇ τε σῇ θυ- 
+γατρὶ ἀνὴρ ἄλλος φανήσεται ἐμεῦ οὐδὲν ἥσσων, 
+ἐμέ τε ἔα γυναικὶ τῇ ἐμῇ συνοικέειν.᾽ ὃ μὲν δὴ 
+τοιούτοισι ἀμείβεται, Ξέρξης δὲ θυμωθεὶς λέγει 
+τάδε. «Οὕτω τοι, Μασίστα, πέπρηκται’ οὔτε 
+γὰρ ἄν τοι δοίην θυγατέρα τὴν ἐμὴν. γῆμαι, οὔτε 
+ἐκείνῃ πλεῦνα χρόνον. συνοικήσεις, ὡς μάθῃς τὰ 
+διδόμενα δέκεσθαι." ὃ δὲ ὡς ταῦτα ἤκουσε, εἴπας 
+τοσόνδε ἐχώρεε ἔξω “Δέσποτα, οὐ δή κὠ µε 
+ἀπώλεσας.” 
+
+112. ᾿Εν δὲ τούτῳ τῷ διὰ μέσου χρόνῳ, ἐν τῷ 
+Ξέρξης τῷ ἀδελφεῷ διελέγετο, ἡ ἡ "Αμηστρις μετα- 
+πεμψαμένη. τοὺς δορυφόρους τοῦ Hépfeo δι jau- 
+μαίνεται τὴν γυναῖκα τοῦ Μασίστεω: τούς τε 
+μαζοὺς ἀποταμοῦσα κυσὶ προέβαλε καὶ ῥῖνα καὶ 
+ὦτα καὶ χείλεα καὶ γλῶσσαν ἐκταμοῦσα ἐς οἶκόν 
+μιν ἀποπέμπει διαλελυμασμένην. 
+
+113. Ὁ δὲ Μασίστης οὐδέν κω ἀκηκοὼς τούτων, 
+ἐλπόμενος δέ τί οἱ κακὸν εἶναι, ἐσπίπτει δρόμῳ ἐς 
+290 
+
+
+BOOK 1X. 111-113 
+
+
+you must live no longer with her who is now your 
+wife. I give you my daughter in her place; take 
+her for your own; but put away the wife that you 
+have, for it is not my will that you should have her." 
+At that Masistes was amazed; “Sire,” he said, 
+“ what is this evil command that you lay upon me, 
+bidding me deal thus with my wife? I have by her 
+young sons and daughters, of whom you have taken 
+a wife for your own son ; and I am exceeding well 
+content with herself; yetdo you bid me put her away 
+and wed your daughter? Truly, O king, I deem it a 
+high honour to be accounted worthy of your daughter ; 
+but I will do neither the one nor the other. Nay, 
+constrain me not to consent to such a desire; you 
+will find another husband for your daughter as good 
+as I; but suffer me to keep my own wife." Thus 
+answered Masistes ; but Xerxes was very angry, and 
+said : ** To this pass you are come, Masistes ; I will 
+give you no daughter of mine to wife, nor shall you 
+longer live with her that you now have; thus shall 
+you learn to accept that which is offered you." 
+Hearing that, Masistes said nought but this: “ Nay, 
+sire, you have not destroyed me yet!” and so 
+departed. 
+
+112. But in the meantime, while Xerxes talked 
+with his brother, Amestris sent for Xerxes’ guards 
+and used Masistes’ wife very cruelly; she cut off the 
+woman’s breasts and threw them to dogs, and her 
+nose and ears and lips likewise, and cut out her 
+tongue, and sent her home thus cruelly used. 
+
+113. Knowing nought as yet of this, but fearing 
+evil, Masistes ran speedily to his house. Seeing the 
+
+
+291 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τὰ οἰκία. ἰδὼν δὲ διεφθαρμένην τὴν γυναῖκα, 
+αὐτίκα μετὰ ταῦτα συμβουλευσάμενος τοῖσι παισὶ 
+ἐπορεύετο ἐς Βάκτρα σύν τε τοῖσι ἑωυτοῦ υἱοῖσι 
+καὶ δή κου τισὶ καὶ ἄλλοισι ὡς ἀποστήσων νομὸν 
+τὸν Ῥάκτριον καὶ ποιήσων. τὰ μέγιστα κακῶν 
+βασιλέα: τά περ ἂν καὶ ἐγένετο, ὡς ἐμοὶ δοκέειν, 
+εἴ περ ἔφθη ἀναβὰς ἐς τοὺς Βακτρίους καὶ τοὺς 
+Σάκας" καὶ γὰρ ἔστεργόν μιν καὶ ἦν ὕπαρχος τῶν 
+Βακτρίων. ἀλλὰ γὰρ Ἐέρξης πυθόμενος ταῦτα 
+ἐκεῖνον πρήσσοντα, πέμψας ἐπ αὐτὸν στρατιὴν 
+ἐν τῇ ὁδῷ κατέκτεινε αὐτόν τε ἐκεῖνον καὶ τοὺς 
+παῖδας αὐτοῦ καὶ τὴν στρατιὴν τὴν ἐκείνου. κατὰ 
+μὲν τὸν ἔρωτα τὸν Ἐέρξεω καὶ τὸν Μασίστεω 
+θάνατον τοσαῦτα ἐγένετο. 
+
+114. Οἱ δὲ ἐκ Μυκάλης ὁρμηθέντες " IEXXqves 
+ἐπ᾽ “Ελλησπόντου πρῶτον μὲν περὶ Λεκτὸν 
+ὅρμεον, ὑπὸ ἀνέμων ἀπολαμφθέντες, ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ 
+ἀπίκοντο ἐς "A Budov Kal Tas γεφύρας εὗρον δια- 
+λελυμένας, τὰς ἐδόκεον εὑρήσειν ἔτι ἐντεταμένας, 
+καὶ τούτων οὐκ ἥκιστα εἵνεκεν ἐς τὸν ᾿Ελλήσ- 
+ποντον ἀπίκοντο. τοῖσι μέν νυν ἀμφὶ Λευτυχίδην 
+Πελοποννησίοισι ἔδοξε ἀποπλέειν ἐς τὴν Ἑλλάδα, 
+᾿Αθηναίοισι δὲ καὶ Ξανθίππῳ τῷ στρατηγῷ αὐτοῦ 
+ὑπομείναντας πειρᾶσθαι τῆς Χερσονήσου. οἳ 
+μὲν δὴ ἀπέπλεον, ᾿Αθηναῖοι δὲ ἐκ τῆς A Busou 
+διαβάντες ἐς τὴν Χερσόνησον Σηστὸν ἐπολιόρκεον. 
+
+115. 'Es δὲ τὴν Σηστὸν ταύτην, ὡς ἐόντος ἰσχυ- 
+ροτάτου τείχεος τῶν ταύτη, συνῆλθον, ὡς ἤκουσαν 
+παρεῖναι τοὺς "Ελληνας ἐς τὸν Ἑλλήσποντον, Ex 
+τε τῶν ἀλλέων τῶν περιοικίδων, καὶ δὴ καὶ ἐκ 
+Καρδίης πόλιος Οἰόβαξος ἀνὴρ Πέρσης, ὃς τὰ ἐκ 
+τῶν γεφυρέων ὅπλα ἐνθαῦτα ἦν κεκομικώς. εἶχον 
+202 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. 113-115 
+
+
+havoc made of his wife, straightway he took counsel 
+with his children and set forth to journey to Bactra 
+with his own sons (and others too, belike), purposing 
+to raise the province of Bactra in revolt and work 
+the king the greatest of harm ; which he would have 
+done, to my thinking, had he escaped up into the 
+country of the Bactrians and Sacae; for they loved 
+him well, and he was viceroy over the Bactrians. 
+But it was of no avail; for Xerxes learnt his intent, 
+and sent against him an army that slew him on his 
+way, and his sons and his army withal Such is 
+the story of Xerxes’ love and Masistes’ death. 
+
+114. The Greeks that had set out from Mycale for 
+the Hellespont first lay to off Lectum ! under stress 
+of weather, and thence came to Abydos, where they 
+found the bridges broken which they thought would 
+be still holding fast, and indeed these were the chief 
+cause of their coming to the Hellespont. The 
+Peloponnesians then who were with Leutychides 
+thus resolved that they would sail away to Hellas, 
+but the Athenians, with Xanthippus their general, 
+that they would remain there and attack the 
+Chersonesus. So the rest sailed away, but the 
+Athenians crossed over to the Chersonesus and laid 
+siege to Sestus. 
+
+115. Now when the Persians heard that the Greeks 
+were at the Hellespont, they had come in from the 
+neighbouring towns and assembled at this same 
+Sestus, seeing that it was the strongest walled place 
+in that region; among them there was come from 
+Cardia a Persian named Oeobazus, and he had carried 
+thither the tackle of the bridges. Sestus was held 
+
+
+! At the western end of the bay of Adramyttium. 
+293 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+δὲ ταύτην ἐπιχώριοι Αἰολέες, συνῆσαν δὲ Πέρσαι 
+τε καὶ τῶν ἄλλων συμμάχων συχνὸς ὅμιλος. 
+
+116. ᾿Βτυράννευε δὲ τούτου τοῦ νομοῦ Ξέρξεω 
+ὕπαρχος ᾿Αρταΐκτης, ἀνὴρ μὲν Πέρσης, δεινὸς δὲ 
+καὶ ἀτάσθαλος, ὃς καὶ βασιλέα ἐλαύνοντα ἐπ᾽ 
+᾿Αθήνας ἐξηπάτησε, τὰ Πρωτεσίλεω τοῦ ᾿Ἰφίκλου 
+χρήματα ἐξ ᾿Ελαιοῦντος ὑπελόμενος. ἐν γὰρ 
+᾿Ελαιοῦντι τῆς Χερσονήσου, ἐστὶ Πρωτεσίλεω 
+τάφος τε καὶ τέμενος περὶ αὐτόν, ἔνθα ἢ ἣν Χρήματα 
+πολλὰ καὶ φιάλαι χρύσεαι καὶ ἀργύρεαι καὶ 
+χαλκὸς καὶ ἐσθὴς καὶ ἄλλα ἀναθήματα, τὰ 
+᾿Αρταὔκτης ἐσύλησε βασιλέος δόντος. λέγων δὲ 
+τοιάδε Ξέρξην διεβάλετο. “ Δέσποτα, ἔστι οἶκος 
+ἀνδρὸς" ᾿Ελληνος ἐνθαῦτα, ὃ ὃς ἐπὶ γῆν σὴν στρατευ- 
+σάμενος δίκης κυρήσας ἀπέθανε τούτου μοι δὸς 
+τὸν οἶκον, ἵνα καί τις μάθῃ ἐπὶ γῆν τὴν σὴν μὴ 
+στρατεύεσθαι.᾽ ταῦτα λέγων εὐπετέως ἔμελλε 
+ἀναπείσειν Ξέρξην δοῦναι ἀνδρὸς οἶκον, οὐδὲν 
+ὑποτοπηθέντα τῶν ἐκεῖνος ἐφρόνεε. ἐπὶ γῆν δὲ 
+τὴν βασιλέος στρατεύεσθαι ὨΠρωτεσίλεων ἔλεγε 
+νοέων τοιάδε" τὴν ᾿Ασίην πᾶσαν νομίξουσι ἑωυτῶν 
+εἶναι Πέρσαι καὶ τοῦ αἰεὶ Βασιλεύοντος. ἐπεὶ δὲ 
+ἐδόθη, τὰ χρήματα ἐξ ᾿Ελαιοῦντος ἐς Σηστὸν 
+ἐξεφόρησε, καὶ τὸ τέμενος ἔσπειρε καὶ ἐνέμετο, 
+αὐτὸς τε ὅκως ἀπίκοιτο ἐς ᾿Πλαιοῦντα ἐν τῷ 
+ἀδύτῳ γυναιξὶ ἐμίσγετο. τότε δὲ ἐπολιορκέετο 
+ὑπὸ ᾿Αθηναίων οὔτε παρεσκευασμένος ἐς πολιορ- 
+«iiv οὔτε προσδεκόµενος τοὺς Έλληνας, ἀφύκτως 
+δέ κως αὐτῷ ἐπέπεσον. 
+
+111. ᾿Επεὶ δὲ πολιορκεομένοισί σφι φθινόπωρον 
+ἐπεγίνετο, καὶ ἤσχαλλον οἱ ᾿Αθηναῖοι ἀπὸ τε τῆς 
+
+
+294 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. 115-117 
+
+
+by the Aeolians of the country, but with him were 
+Persians and a great multitude of their allies withal. 
+
+116. This province was ruled by Xerxes' viceroy 
+Artayctes, a cunning man and a wicked ; witness the 
+deceit that he practised on the king in his march to 
+Athens, how he stole away from Elaeus the treasure 
+of Protesilaus! son of Iphiclus. This was the way of 
+it: there is at Elaeus in the Chersonesus the tomb 
+of Protesilaus, and a precinct about it, where was 
+much treasure, with vessels of gold and silver, 
+bronze, raiment, and other dedicated offerings ; all 
+of which Artajctes carried off, by the king's gift. 
+* Sire," he said deceitfully to Xerxes, “there is here 
+the house of a certain Greek, who met a just death 
+for invading your territory with an army; give me 
+this man's house, whereby all may be taught not to 
+invade your territory." It was to be thought that 
+this plea would easily persuade Xerxes to give him 
+a man's house, having no suspicion of Artayctes' 
+meaning; whose reason for saying that Protesilaus 
+had invaded the king's territory was, that the 
+Persians believe all Asia to belong to themselves and 
+whosoever is their king. So when the treasure was 
+given him, he carried it away from Elaeus to Sestus, 
+and planted and farmed the precinct; and he would 
+come from Elaeus and have intercourse with women 
+in the shrine. Now, when the Athenians laid siege 
+to him, he had made no preparation for it, nor 
+thought that the Greeks would come, and he had no 
+way of escape from their attack, 
+
+117. But the siege continuing into the late 
+autumn, the Athenians grew weary of their absence 
+
+
+1 The first Greek to fall in the Trojan war, νηὺς ἀποθρώσκων 
+(Hom. Z}. ii. 701). 
+
+
+205 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+ἑωυτῶν ἀποδημέοντες καὶ οὐ δυνάμενοι ἐξελεῖν 
+τὸ τεῖχος, ἐδέοντό τε τῶν στρατηγῶν ὅκως ἀπά- 
+γοιεν σφέας ὀπίσω, o? δὲ οὐκ ἔφασαν πρὶν ἡ 
+ἐξέλωσι ἢ τὸ ᾿Αθηναίων κοινόν σφεας μεταπέμ- 
+ψηται' οὕτω δὴ ἔστεργον τὰ παρεόντα. 
+
+118. Οἱ δὲ ἐν τῷ τείχεϊ ἐς πᾶν ἤδη κακοῦ 
+ἀπιγμένοι ἦσαν, οὕτω ὥστε τοὺς τόνους ἕψοντες 
+τῶν κλινέων ἐσιτέοντο. ἐπείτε δὲ οὐδὲ ταῦτα ἔτι 
+εἶχον, οὕτω δὴ ὑπὸ νύκτα οἴχοντο ἀποδράντες οἳ 
+τε Ἱ]έρσαι καὶ o ᾿ΑἈρταὔκτης καὶ ὁ Οἰόβαξος, 
+ὄπισθε τοῦ τείχεος καταβάντες, τῇ ἣν ἐρημότατον 
+τῶν πολεμίων. ὡς δὲ ἡμέρη ἐγένετο, οἱ Χερσονη- 
+σῖται ἀπὸ τῶν πύργων ἐσήμηναν τοῖσι ΑἈθηναίοισι 
+τὸ γεγονὸς καὶ τὰς πύλας ἄνοιξαν. τῶν δὲ οἱ μὲν 
+πλεῦνες ἐδίωκον, οἳ δὲ τὴν πόλιν εἶχον. 
+
+119. Oiofatov μέν νυν ἐκφεύγοντα ἐς τὴν 
+Θρηίκην Θρήικες ᾿Αψίνθιοι λαβόντες ἔθυσαν 
+Ηλειστώρῳ ἐπιχωρίῳ θεῷ τρόπῳ τῷ σφετέρῳ, 
+τοὺς δὲ μετ᾽ ἐκείνου ἄλλῳ τρόπῳ ἐφόνευσαν. οἱ 
+δὲ ἀμφὶ τὸν ᾿Αρταῦκτην ὕστεροι ὁρμηθέντες φεύ- 
+yeu, καὶ ὡς κατελαμβάνοντο ὀλίγον ἐόντες ὑπὲρ 
+Αἰγὸς ποταμῶν, ἀλεξόμενοι χρόνον ἐπὶ συχνὸν 
+οἳ μὲν ἀπέθανον οἳ δὲ ζῶντες ἐλάμφθησαν. καὶ 
+συνδήσαντες σφέας οἱ Ἕλληνες ἦγον ἐς Σηστόν, 
+μετ᾽ αὐτῶν δὲ καὶ ᾿Αρταὕκτην δεδεμένον αὐτόν τε 
+καὶ τὸν παῖδα αὐτοῦ. 
+
+120. Kaí reo τῶν φυλασσόντων λέγεται ὑπὸ 
+Χερσονησιτέων ταρίχους ὀπτῶντι τέρας γενέσθαι 
+
+
+206 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. 117-120 
+
+
+from home and their ill success at taking the 
+fortress, and entreated their generals to lead them 
+away again; but the generals refused to do that, 
+till they should take the place or be recalled by the 
+Athenian state. Thereat the men endured their 
+plight patiently. 
+
+118. But they that were within the walls were by 
+now brought to the last extremity, insomuch that 
+they boiled the thongs of their beds for food ; but 
+at the last even these failed them, and Artáyctes 
+and Oeobazus and all the Persians made their way 
+down from the back part of the fortress, where their 
+enemies were scarcest, and fled away at nightfall. 
+When morning came, the people of the Chersonesus 
+signified from their towers to the Athenians what 
+had happened, and opened their gates; and the 
+greater part of the Athenians going in pursuit, the 
+rest stayed to hold the town. 
+
+119. Oeobazus made to escape into Thrace; but 
+the Apsinthians of that country caught and sacrificed 
+him after their fashion to Plistorus the god of their 
+land; as for his companions, they slew them in 
+another manner. Artajctes and his company had 
+begun their flight later, and were overtaken a little 
+way beyond the Goat's Rivers,! where after they had 
+defended themselves a long time some of them were 
+slain and the rest taken alive. The Greeks bound 
+and carried them to Sestus, and Artayctes and his 
+son likewise with them in bonds. 
+
+120. It is told by the people of the Chersonesus 
+that a marvellous thing befell one of them that 
+
+
+! A roadstead opposite Lampsacus; the rivers were 
+probably two small streams that flow into the sea there (How 
+and Wells). 
+
+
+207 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+τοιόνδε' οἱ τάριχοι ἐπὶ τῷ πυρὶ κείμενοι ἐπάλ- 
+λοντό τε καὶ ἤσπαιρον ὅκως περ ἰχθύες νεοάλωτοι. 
+καὶ où μὲν περιχυθέντες ἐθώμαζον, ὁ δὲ ᾿Αρταῦ- 
+κτης ὡς εἶδε τὸ τέρας, καλέσας τὸν ὀπτῶντα τοὺς 
+ταρίχους ἔφη “Ξεῖνε ᾿Αθηναῖε, μηδὲν φοβέο τὸ 
+τέρας | τοῦτο" οὐ γὰρ σοὶ πέφηνε, ἀλλ) ἐμοὶ σημαί- 
+νει. ὁ ἐν ᾿Ελαιοῦντι Πρωτεσίλεως ὅτι καὶ τεθνεὼς 
+καὶ τάριχος ἐὼν δύναμιν πρὸς θεῶν ἔχει τὸν 
+ἀδικέοντα τίνεσθαι. νῦν ὧν ἄποινά μοι τάδε 
+ἐθέλω ἐπιθεῖναι, ἀντὶ μὲν χρημάτων τῶν ἔλαβον 
+ἐκ τοῦ ἱροῦ ἑκατὸν τάλαντα καταθεῖναι τῷ θεῷ, 
+ἀντὶ ὃ ἐμεωυτοῦ καὶ τοῦ παιδὸς ἀποδώσω τάλαντα 
+διηκόσια ᾿Αθηναίοισι περιγενόμενος. ταῦτα 
+ὑπισχόμενος τὸν στρατηγὸν Ξάνθιππον οὐκ 
+ἔπειθε" οἱ γὰρ ᾿Βλαιούσιοι τῷ Πρωτεσίλεῳ τιμω- 
+ρέοντες ἐδέοντό μιν καταχρησθῆναι, καὶ αὐτοῦ 
+τοῦ στρατηγοῦ ταύτῃ νόος ἔφερε. ἀπαγαγόντες 
+δὲ αὐτὸν ἐς τὴν ἀκτὴν ἐς τὴν Ξέρξης ἔξευξε τὸν 
+πόρον, οἳ δὲ λέγουσι ἐπὶ τὸν κολωνὸν τὸν ὑπὲρ 
+Μαδύτου πόλιος, πρὸς σανίδας προσπασσαλεύ- 
+σαντες ἀνεκρέμασαν' τὸν δὲ παῖδα ἐν ὀφθαλμοῖσι 
+τοῦ ᾿Ἀρταὔκτεω κατέλευσαν. 
+
+121. Taba δὲ ποιήσαντες ἀπέπλεον ἐς τὴν 
+
+Ἑλλάδα, τά τε ἄλλα χρήματα ἄγοντες καὶ δὴ 
+καὶ τὰ ὅπλα τῶν γεφυρέων ὡς ἀναθήσοντες € ἐς τὰ 
+ἱρά. καὶ κατὰ το ἔτος τοῦτο οὐδὲν ἐπὶ πλέον 
+
+/ , 7. 
+τούτων ἐγένετο. 
+
+122, Τούτου δὲ τοῦ ᾿Αρταὔκτεω. τοῦ ἀνακρεμα- 
+σθέντος προπάτωρ ᾿Αρτεμβάρης ἐστὶ ὁ Πέρσῃσι 
+ἐξηγησάμενος λόγον τὸν ἐκεῖνοι ὑπολαβόντες 
+
+
+208 
+
+
+BOOK ΙΧ. 120-122 
+
+
+guarded Artayctes: he was frying dried fishes, and 
+these as they lay over the fire began to leap and 
+writhe as though they were fishes newly caught. 
+The rest gathered round, amazed at the sight; but 
+when Artajctes saw the strange thing, he called 
+him that was frying the fishes and said to him: “' Sir 
+Athenian, be not afraid of this portent ; it is not to you 
+that it is sent ; it is to me that Protesilaus of Elaeus 
+would signify that though he be dead and dry he has 
+power given him by heaven to take vengeance on me 
+that wronged him. Now therefore I offer a ransom, 
+to wit, payment of a hundred talents to the god for 
+the treasure that I took from his temple; and I will 
+pay to the Athenians two hundred talents for myself 
+and my son, if they spare us." But Xanthippus the 
+general was unmoved by this promise; for the 
+people of Elaeus entreated that Artayctes should 
+be put to death in justice to Protesilaus, and the 
+general himself likewise was so minded. So they 
+carried Artayctes away to the headland where 
+Xerxes had bridged the strait (or, by another story, 
+to the hill above the town of Madytus), and there 
+nailed him to boards and hanged him aloft; and as 
+for his son, they stoned him to death before his 
+father's eyes. 
+
+121. This done, they sailed away to Hellas, 
+carrying with them the tackle of the bridges to be 
+dedicated in their temples, and the rest of the stuff 
+withal. And in that year nothing further was done. 
+
+122. This Artayctes who was crucified was grand- 
+son to that Artembares! who instructed the Persians 
+in a design which they took from him and laid 
+
+
+1 There is an Artembares in i. 114 ; but he is à Mede, and 
+so can hardly be meant here. 
+
+
+299 
+
+
+HERODOTUS 
+
+
+Κύρῳ προσήνεικαν λέγοντα τάδε. “᾿Επεὶ Ζεὺς 
+Πέρσῃσι ἡγεμονίην διδοῖ, ἀνδρῶν δὲ σοὶ Kópe, 
+κατελὼν ᾿Αστυάγην, φέρε, γῆν γὰρ ἐκτήμεθα 
+ὀλίγην καὶ ταύτην τρηχέαν, μεταναστάντες ἐκ 
+ταύτης ἄλλην σχῶμεν ἀμείνω. εἰσὶ δὲ πολλαὶ 
+μὲν ἀστυγείτονες πολλαὶ δὲ καὶ ἑκαστέρω, τῶν 
+μίαν σχόντες πλέοσι ἐσόμεθα θωμαστότεροι. 
+οἰκὸς δὲ ἄνδρας ἄρχοντας τοιαῦτα ποιέειν" KÖTE 
+γὰρ δὴ καὶ παρέξει κάλλιον 3) ὅτε γε ἀνθρώπων 
+τε πολλῶν ἄρχομεν πάσης τε τῆς ᾿Ασίης ; Νῦρος 
+δὲ ταῦτα ἀκούσας καὶ οὐ θωμάσας τὸν λόγον 
+ἐκέλευε ποιέειν ταῦτα, οὕτω δὲ αὐτοῖσι παραίνεε 
+κελεύων παρασκευάζεσθαι ὡς οὐκέτι ἄρξοντας 
+ἀλλ᾽ ἀρξομένους' φιλέειν γὰρ ἐς TOV μαλακῶν 
+χώρων μαλακοὺς γίνεσθαι" οὐ γάρ τί τῆς αὐτῆς 
+γῆς εἶναι καρπόν τε θωμαστὸν φύειν καὶ ἄνδρας 
+ἀγαθοὺς τὰ πολέμια. ὥστε συγγνόντες Πέρσαι 
+οἴχοντο ἀποστάντες, ἑσσωθέντες τῇ γνώμῃ πρὸς 
+Κύρου, ἄρχειν τε εἵλοντο λυπρὴν οἰκέοντες μᾶλλον 
+ἢ πεδιάδα σπείροντες ἄλλοισι δουλεύειν, 
+
+
+300 
+
+
+BOOK IX. 122 
+
+
+before Cyrus; this was its purport: “Secing that 
+Zeus grants lordship to the Persian people, and to 
+you, Cyrus, among them, by bringing Astyages 
+low, let us now remove out of the little and 
+rugged land that we possess and take to ourselves 
+one that is better. There be many such on our 
+borders, and many further distant; if we take one 
+of these we shall have more reasons for renown. It 
+is but reasonable that a ruling people should act 
+thus; for when shall we have a fairer occasion than 
+now, when we are lords of so many men and of all 
+Asia?" Cyrus heard them, and found nought to 
+marvel at in their design; “ Do so,” said he; “but 
+if you do, make ready to be no longer rulers, but 
+subjects. Soft lands breed soft men; wondrous 
+fruits of the earth and valiant warriors grow not 
+from the same soil." Thereat the Persians saw that 
+Cyrus reasoned better than they, and they departed 
+from before him, choosing rather to be rulers on a 
+barren mountain side than slaves dwelling in tilled 
+valleys. 
+
+
+301 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+(** Xerxes’ march” and '' Xerxes’ army" refer always to the 
+invasion of Greece in 480 B.C.) 
+
+
+Abae, an oracular shrine in Phocis, τ. 46, vim. 27, 33, 134 
+
+Abantes, an Euboean tribe, 1. 146 
+
+Abaris, a legendary Hyperborean, 1v. 36 
+
+Abdera, a town of Thrace on the Nestus, 1. 168, vr. 46, viz. 109, 
+120, 126; Xerxes' first halt in his flight, virr. 120. 
+
+Abrocomas, son of Darius, killed at Thermopylae, vu. 224 
+
+Abronichus, an Athenian, ΥἹΠΙ. 21. S 
+
+Abydos, a town on the Hellespont, v. 117; Xcrxes’ bridge there, 
+vir. 33 foll, 43, 44, 45, 95, 147, 174, vir. 117, 130, 1x. 114 
+
+Acanthus, in Chalcidice, on the isthmus of Mt. Athos, one of 
+Xerxes’ chief halting-places on his march, vt. 44, ΥΠ. 115-117, 
+121, 124 
+
+Acarnania, in N.W. Greece, 1. 10, vir. 126 
+
+Aceratus, a Delphian prophet, vir. 37 
+
+Aces, a river alleged to be E. of the Caspian, ΤΙ. 117 
+
+Achaeans, their expulsion of Ionians from Greece, 1. 145; in 
+the Trojan war, ΙΙ. 120; at Croton, vir. 47; the only stock 
+which has never left the Peloponnese, virt. 73. Achaeans of 
+Phthiotis, vri. 132, 173, 185-197. Achaea in the Peloponnese, 
+ΥΠ. 94, vri. 36 
+
+Achaemenes, (1) son of Darius; governor of Egypt under Xerxes, 
+Vir. 7; one of Xerxes’ admirals, vir. 97; his advice to Xerxes 
+to keep the fleet together, vir. 236; his death, πι. 12. 
+(2) Farthest ancestor of Cyrus, rr. 75, vir. 11 
+
+Achaemenid, dynasty in Persia, 1. 125, 111. 65 
+
+Achaeus, a legendary eponymous hero, 11. 98 
+
+Acheloüs, a river of N.W. Greece, vir. 126; compared with the 
+Nile, 11. 10 
+
+Acheron, a river of N.W. Greece, vin. 47; its glen supposed to 
+be a passage to the world of the dead, v. 92 
+
+
+393 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Achilleium, a town in Asia Minor near the mouth of the Seaman- 
+der, v. 94 
+
+Achilles, ** Race” of, a strip of land on the Pontie coast, rv. 
+55, 76 
+
+Acraephia, a town near the Copaie lake in Boeotia, vir. 135 
+
+Acragas (Agrigentum), vri. 165, 170 
+
+Acrisius, father of Danaë, vr. 53 
+
+Acrothoum, a town on the promontory of Athos, vir. 22 
+
+Adeimantus, Corinthian admiral at Salamis, vir. 137, vir. 5, 59, 
+61, 94 
+
+Adicran, a Libyan king, 1v. 159 
+
+Adrastus, (1) son of Gordias, a Phrygian refugee at Croesus’ court, 
+I. 35-45. (2) Son of Talaus, an Argive hero, v. 67 foll. 
+
+Adriatic sea, 1. 163, Iv. 33, v. 9 
+
+Adyrmachidae, a Libyan tribe, 1v. 168 
+
+Aea, in Colchis, τ. 2, vir. 193, 197 
+
+Acaces, of Samos, (1) father of Polycrates, rr. 182, rrr. 39, 139, 
+vi. 19. (2) Son of Syloson, vi. 13; confirmed as despot of 
+Samos by the Persians, vi. 22, 25 
+
+Aeacus and Aeacidae, local heroes worshipped in Aegina, v. 80, 
+v. 89, vi. 35, vir. 64, 83 
+
+Aegae, in Argolis, 1. 145 
+
+Aegaeae, Aeolian town in Achaea, I. 149 
+
+Aegaean sea, II. 97, 113, 1v. 85, ντι. 36, 55 
+
+Aegaleos, the hill in Attica whence Xerxes saw the battle of 
+Salamis, VIII. 90 
+
+Aege, a town in Pallene, vir. 123 
+
+Aegeus, (1) son of Oeolyeus, a Spartan, Iv. 149. (2) Son of 
+Pandion, king of Athens, r. 173 
+
+Aegialeans, a “ Pelasgian " people, Υπ. 94; of Sicyon, v. 68 
+
+Aegialeus, son of Adrastus of Sicyon, v. 68 
+
+Aegicores, a legendary Athenian, son of Ion, v. 66 
+
+Aegidae, a Spartan clan, 1v. 149 
+
+Aegilea, a district of Euboca, vi. 101 
+
+Aegina, island in the Saronic gulf, ΙΠ. 59, 131, vir. 147, viir. 41, 
+60; feuds with Athens, v. 84-89, vr. 88-92, vir. 144; Cleo- 
+menes in Aegina, vi. 50, 61; Aeginetan hostages, vi. 85; 
+Fleet, vir. 46; Aeginetans in battle of Salamis, vir. 84, 
+91-93; offerings at Delphi, vim. 122; Aeginetans at Plataea, 
+1x. 28, 78, 85 
+
+Aegina, legendary daughter of Asopus, v. 80 
+
+Aegira, in Argolis, 1. 145 
+
+
+304 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Aegiroessa, Aeolian town in Asia Minor, 1. 149 
+
+Aegium, in Argolis, 1. 145 
+
+Aeglea, an island in the Aegean, vi. 107 
+
+Aegli, a tribe in the Persian empire, near Bactria, ur. 92 
+
+Aegospotami, on the Thracian coast near the Hellespont, rx. 119 
+
+Aeimnestus, a Spartan, combatant at Plataea, ΙΧ. 54 
+
+Aenea, a town on the Thermaic gulf, vir. 123 
+
+Aenesidemus, an officer of Gelos in Sicily, vir. 154, 165 
+
+Aenus, a town at the mouth of the Hebrus, 1v. 90, vir. 58 
+
+Aenyra, a place in Thasos, vri. 47 
+
+Aeolians, their conquest by Croesus, 1. 6, 26; resistance to Cyrus, 
+1. 141, 152; their settlements in Asia, 1. 149-152; in the 
+armies of Harpagus, 1. 171; part of a Persian province, III. 
+90; in Darius’ Scythian expedition, 1v. 89, 138; reconquest 
+by Persians, v. 122; in Ionian revolt, vr. 8, 28; part of 
+Xerxes’ fleet, vir. 95; Sestus an Aeolian town, ΙΧ. 115; 
+Thessaly originally Acolian, vri. 176; (often mentioned with 
+Ionians, to denote Greek colonists in Asia.) 
+
+Aeolidae, a town in Phocis, vir. 35 
+
+Aeolus, father of Athamas, ΥΠ. 197 
+
+Aéropus, (1) a descendant of Temenus, ΥΠΙ, 137. (2) Son of 
+Philippus, king of Macedonia, vii. 139 
+
+Aesanius, a man of Thera, ry. 150 
+
+Aeschines, a leading Eretrian, ντ. 100 
+
+Aeschraeus, an Athenian, VIII. 11 
+
+Aeschrionians, a Samian clan, 117. 26 
+
+Aeschylus, the Athenian poet, reference to one of his plays, 11. 156 
+
+Aesopus, the chronicler, 11. 134 
+
+Aetolians, vi. 127, vim. 73 (Elis the only Aetolian part of the 
+Peloponnese). 
+
+Agaeus, of Elis, vi. 127 
+
+Agamemnon, king of Mycenae, 1. 67, Iv. 103, νι. 159 
+
+Agariste, (1) daughter of Cleisthenes of Sicyon, v1. 126, 130 foll. 
+(2) Daughter of Hippocrates of Athens, vi. 131 
+
+Agasicles, of Halicarnassus, I. 144 
+
+Agathyrsi, a tribe on the Scythian borders, 1v. 49, 100, 102, 118, 
+125; their customs, Iv. 104 
+
+Agathyrsus, son of Heracles, 1v. 10 
+
+Agbalus, an Aradian, ΥΠ. 98 
+
+Agbatana, (1) Persian capital in Media, 1. 110, 153, τα. 64, 92; 
+plan of, 1. 98. (2) In Syria, Cambyses’ death there, 111. 64 
+
+Agenor, father of Cadmus, 1v. 147, vir. 91 
+
+
+995 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Agetus, a Spartan, vi. 61 
+
+Agis, king of Sparta, vr. 65 
+
+Aglaurus, daughter of Cecrops, her shrine at Athens, ΥἹΠ. 53 
+
+Aglomachus, his tower at Cyrene, rv. 164 
+
+Agora, a town in the Chersonese of Thrace, ΥΠ. 58 
+
+Agrianes, (1) à Paeonian tribe, v. 16. (2) Α tributary of the 
+Hebrus, Iv. 90 
+
+Agron, king of Sardis, 1. 7 
+
+Agyllaei, an Etruscan tribe, 1. 167 
+
+Aias, son of Aeacus, a hero of the Trojan war, v. 66, vr. 35, VIII. 
+64, 121 
+
+Alabanda, a town in Caria, ΥΠ. 195; another alleged to be in 
+Phrygia, vir. 136. 
+
+Alalia, à town in Corsica inhabited by the Phocaeans, 1. 165 
+
+Alarodii, a tribe in the Persian empire, E. of Armenia, ΤΠ. 94, 
+vir. 79 
+
+Alazir, king of Barca, rv. 164 
+
+Alazones, a tribe in or adjacent to Scythia, Iv. 17, 52 
+
+Alcaeus, (1) son of Heracles, 1. 7. (2) Tho lyric poet, his poem 
+on a battle between Athenians and Mytilenaeans, v. 95 
+
+Alcamenes, a Spartan king, son of Teleclus, ντι. 204 
+
+Alcenor, an Argive, one of three survivors of a battle between 
+Argos and Lacedaemon, 1. 82 
+
+Alcetes, king of Macedonia, son of Aéropus, ΥΠΙ. 139 
+
+Alcibiades, an Athenian, father of Clinias, virr. 17 
+
+Alcides, a Spartan, vi. 61 
+
+Alcimachus, an Eretrian, vr. 101 
+
+Alemene, mother of Heracles, rr. 43, 145 
+
+Alemeon, an Athenian, 1. 59; enriched by Croesus, vi. 125. 
+His son and descendants, enemies of Pisistratus, 1. 61, 64, 
+v. 62; under a curse for killing Cylon, v. 70; suspected of 
+collusion with Persians after Marathon, vi. 115, 121-124; 
+Megacles, the successful suitor for the daughter of Cleisthenes 
+of Sicyon, vi. 125, 131 
+
+Alcon, a Molossian suitor for Cleisthenes’ daughter, ντ. 127 
+
+Alea, local name of Athene at Tegea, 1. 66, 1x. 70 
+
+Aleian plain in Cilicia, the rendezvous for Datis’ army, vr. 95 
+
+Aleuadae, the ruling family in Thessaly, vir. 6, 130, 172, rx. 58 
+
+Alexander, (1) son of Priam (Paris), 1.3; in Egypt, rr. 113-120. 
+(2) King of Macedonia, son of Amyntas; his treatment of 
+Persian envoys, v. 19-21; claim to be a Greek, v. 22; advice 
+{ο Greeks, ΥΠ. 173; his ancestors, vir. 137-139; an inter- 
+
+
+306 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+mediary between Persia and Athens, vir. 140-144; infor. 
+mation given by him to the Greeks before Plataea, rx. 44—46 
+
+Alilat, an Arabian deity identified with Aphrodite, rrr. 8 
+
+Alopecae, a deme of Attica, v. 63 
+
+Alpeni or Alpenus, a village behind the Greek position at 
+Thermopylae, vir. 176, 216, 229 
+
+Alpheus, a Spartan, distinguished at Thermopylae, vir. 227 
+
+Alpis, a tributary of the Danube, flowing apparently from the 
+eastern Alps, rv. 40 
+
+Alus, in Achaea, vir. 173; tradition and ceremonial there, vir. 
+197 
+
+Alyattes, king of Lydia, father of Croesus, his war with Miletus, 
+1. 16-25; protection of Scythians against Media, r. 73; his 
+tomb, r. 93 
+
+Amasis, (1) king of Egypt, visited by Solon, 1. 30; alliance with 
+Croesus, I. 77; place in Egyptian chronology, rr. 43, 145; 
+his Greek guard, τι. 154; his revolt against Apries, τι. 162, 
+169; his death, rr. 10; Cambyses’ treatment of his body, 
+Hr. 16; friendship of Amasis and Polyerates, 111. 39-43. (2) A 
+Maraphian, commander of Persian army against Barca, Iv. 
+167, 201, 203 
+
+Amathus, a town in Cyprus, its refusal to revolt against Persia, 
+v. 104 
+
+Amazons, their intermarriage with Scythians, rv. 110-117; 
+story of Athenian victory over them, 1x. 27 
+
+Amestris, wife of Xerxes, ΥΠ. 61, 114; her revenge on a rival, 
+IX. 109-112. 
+
+Amiantus of Trapezus, an Arcadian suitor for Cleisthenes’ 
+daughter, vr. 127 
+
+Amilcas, king of Carthage, defeated by Gelon, ντι. 165—167 
+
+Aminias of Pallene, an Athenian, distinguished at Salamis, vI. 
+84—93 
+
+Aminocles of Magnesia, enriched by Persian shipwreck at Sepias, 
+vir. 190 
+
+Ammon (or Amoun), an oracular deity in Libya, identified with 
+Zeus, I. 46, Π. 32, 55 
+
+Ammonians, a colony from Egypt and Ethiopia, τι. 42; on the 
+route from Egypt to N.W. Africa, rv. 181; Cambyses' expedi- 
+tion against them, 111. 25, 26 
+
+Amompharetus, Spartan commander of the “ Pitanate battal- 
+ion," his refusal to quit his post at Plataea, rx. 53-57 
+
+Amorges, a Persian general, v. 121 
+
+
+397 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Ampe, a town on the Persian gulf, near the mouth of the Tigris, 
+vi. 20 
+
+Ampelus, à promontory in Chalcidice, vir. 122 
+
+Amphiaraus, a legendary Greek hero, 111. 91; his oracular shrine, 
+I. 46, 49, 52, 92, VIIL 134 
+
+Amphicaea, a Phocian town, vir. 33 
+
+Amphicrates, king of Samos, ΙΙ. 59 
+
+Amphictyones, council of a confederacy of states in N.E. Greece, 
+IL. 180, v. 62, vir. 200, 218, 228. An eponymous hero Am- 
+phietyon, ΥΠ. 200 
+
+Amphilochus, a legendary hero, son of Amphiaraus, 111. 91, vir. 
+91 
+
+Amphilytus, an Acarnanian diviner, 1. 62 
+
+Amphimnestus of Epidamnus, a suitor for Cleisthenes’ daughter, 
+vi. 127 
+
+Amphissa, a town in Locris, a refuge for some Delphians when 
+threatened by Xerxes, vill. 32, 36 
+
+Amphion, a Corinthian of the Bacchiad clan, grandfather of the 
+despot Cypselus, v. 92 
+
+Amphitryon, alleged father of Heracles, 11. 43, 146, v. 59, vr. 53 
+
+Ampraciots, in N.W. Greece, part of the Greek fleet, vin. 45; 
+in Pausanias’ army, 1x. 28 
+
+Amyntas, (1) king of Macedonia, father of Alexander, v. 94, vir. 
+173, ντι. 136, 139, rx. 44; Persian envoys sent to him, v. 
+17-19. (2) A Persian, son of Bubares and grandson of Amyntas 
+of Macedonia, vii. 136 
+
+Amyrgii, a tribe of the Sacae, ΥΠ. 64 
+
+Amyris, a man of Siris, vI. 127 
+
+Amyrtaeus, one of the later kings of lgypt, 1r. 140, τι. 15 
+
+Amytheon, father of the seer Melampus, 11. 49 
+
+Anacharsis, a Scythian phil-Hellene, rv. 46, 76 
+
+Anacreon of Teos, the poet, 111. 121 
+
+Anactorians, a people of N.W. Greece, 1x. 28 
+
+Anagyrus, a deme of Attica, viri. 93 
+
+Anaphes, a Persian officer in Xerxes’ army, VII. 62 
+
+Anaphlystus, a deme of Attica, Iv. 99 
+
+Anaua, a townin Phrygia, vir. 30 
+
+Anaxandrides, (1) a Spartan, son of Theopompus, ancestor of 
+Leutychides, vit. 131. (2) King of Sparta, son of Leon; 
+contemporary with Croesus, i. 67; father of Cleomenes, 
+Dorieus, Leonidas, and Cleombrotus, v. 39, vir 158, 204, 
+vil. 71 
+
+
+308 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Anaxandrus, a king of Sparta, vir. 204 S 
+
+Anaxilaus, (1) a Spartan, son of Archidemus, ancestor of Leuty- 
+chides, vir. 131. (2) Despot of Rhegium, son of Creticus, 
+vi. 23; an ally of the Carthaginians in Sicily, ΥΠ. 165 
+
+Anchimolius, à Spartan general, v. 63 
+
+Andreas of Sicyon, a suitor for Cleisthencs’ daughter, v1. 126 
+
+Androbulus, a Delphian, ΥΠ. 141 
+
+Androcrates, a local hero worshipped at Plataea, 1x. 25 
+
+Androdamas, a Samian, VIII. δῦ, 1x. 90 
+
+Andromeda, daughter of Cepheus and wife of Perseus, ΥΠ. 61, 
+150 
+
+Androphagi, a people adjacent to Scythia, 1v. 18, 100, 102, 119. 
+125; their customs, rv. 106 
+
+Andros, in the Aegean, rv. 33, v. 31, vin. 108; besieged by 
+Themistocles, vir. 111; Andrians in the Persian fleet, VIn. 
+66 
+
+Aneristus, (1) a Spartan, father of Sperthias, vir. 197. (2) Grand- 
+son of (1), Herodotus' theory that his death was caused by 
+the wrath of Talthybius, ντι. 137 
+
+Angites, a tributary of the Strymon, vir. 113 
+
+Angrus, à river in Illyria, Iv. 49 
+
+Annon, a Carthaginian, father of Amileas, vir. 165. 
+
+Anopaea, the mountain pass which turned the Greek position 
+at Thermopylae, vir. 216 
+
+Antagoras, a man of Cos, ΙΧ. 76 
+
+Antandrus, a town in the Troad, v. 26, vir. 42 
+
+Anthele, a village near the pass of Thermopylae, ΥΠ. 176 
+
+Anthemus, a town in Macedonia, v. 94 
+
+Anthylla, a town in the Delta, τι. 97 
+
+Antichares, a man of Eleon, v. 43 
+
+Anticyra, a town in Malis, on the Spercheus, ΥΠ. 198, 213 
+
+Antidorus, à Lemnian deserter to the Greeks from the Persian 
+fleet, vim. 11 
+
+Antiochus, an Elean, ΙΧ. 33 
+
+Antipatrus, è Thasian, chosen by his countrymen to provide for 
+Xerxes' reception, ΥΠ. 118 
+
+Antiphemus, of Lindus, founder of Gela in Sicily, vir. 153 
+
+Anysis, (1) (and Anysian province of Egypt), inhabited by one 
+of the warrior tribes, 11. 137, 166. (2) A blind king of Egypt, 
+his expulsion by Ethiopians, 11. 137, 140 
+
+Aparytae (possibly the modern Afridi) a tribe in the eastern 
+part of the Persian empire, 111. 91 
+
+
+399 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Apaturia, an Athenian festival celebrated in the month Pyan- 
+epsion, r. 147 
+
+Aphetae, in Magnesia, on the Pagasaean gulf, station of Xerxes' 
+fleet, vir. 193, 196; storm and shipwreck there, viri. 12 
+
+Aphidnae, a deme of Attica, 1x. 73 
+
+Aphrodisias, an island off the coast of Libya, 1v. 169 
+
+Aphrodite, worshipped in Cyprus and Cythera, 1. 105; in Cyrene, 
+I. 181; in Egypt (Hathor), rr. 41, 112; other local cults under 
+various names, I. 105, 131, 199, m1. 8, Iv. 59, 67 
+
+Aphthite province of Egypt, inhabited by one of the warrior 
+clans, 11. 166 
+
+Apia, a Scythian goddess, Iv. 59 
+
+Apidanus, a river of Thessaly, vir. 129, 196 
+
+Apis, (1) the sacred calf of Egypt, 11. 38, 153; Cambyses’ sacri- 
+legious treatment of Apis, πι. 27-29. (2) An Egyptian town, 
+τ 18 
+
+Apollo, 1. 87, vir. 26; cult at Delos and Delphi, 1. 50, 91, Iv. 
+163, 155, νι. 80, 118; other local cults, ι. 52, 69, 92, 144, τι. 
+83, 144, 155 (Horus), 11. 159, 178, 111. 52, Iv. 59, 158, v. 59-61, 
+virt. 33, 134 
+
+Apollonia, (1) a town on the Euxine sea, rv. 90, 93. (2) A town 
+on the Ionic gulf, rx. 90 
+
+Apollophanes, a man of Abydos, vr. 26 
+
+Apries, a king of Egypt, deposed by Amasis, 11. 161-163; his 
+death, rr. 169; marriage of his daughter to Cambyses, 111. l; 
+his expedition against Cyrene, Iv. 159 
+
+Apsinthii, a tribe near the Chersonese (promontory of Gallipoli), 
+vi. 34, 36, rx. 119 
+
+Arabia, its customs, 1. 131, 198, rrr. 8; invasion of Egypt by 
+Arabians and Assyrians, II. 141; geography, rr. 8, 11, 15, 
+19, ur. 7; home of the phoenix and flying serpents, rr. 73, 
+75; natural history, ir. 107-113; part of Persian empire, 
+ΠΙ. 91, 97 
+
+Arabian gulf (Red Sea), 11. 11, 102, 158, rv. 39, 42. Arabians 
+in Xerxes’ forces, vir. 69, 86, 184 i 
+
+Aradians, of the island Aradus, off the Phoenician coast, vir. 98 
+
+Ararus, an alleged tributary of the Danube, 1v. 48 
+
+Araxes, a river flowing from the west into the Caspian (but 
+apparently confused by Herodotus with other rivers), r. 202, 
+205, ται. 36, rv. 11, 40; crossed by Cyrus when invading the 
+Massagetae, 1. 209-211 
+
+Arcadia, its relations with Sparta, 1. 66; a Pelasgian people, 1. 
+
+
+310 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+146; preservation of the cult of Demeter, Π. 171; Cleomenes 
+in Arcadia, vi. 74; Arcadian settlements iu Cyprus, vir. 90; 
+Areadians at Thermopylae, ΥΠ. 202; Arcadian deserters to 
+Xerxes, VIII. 26; Arcadians in the Greek army on the Isthmus, 
+viri. 72 (other unimportant reff.) 
+
+Arcesilaus, name of three kings of Cyrene. (1) Son of Battus, Iv. 
+159. (2) Son of another Battus, rv. 160. (3) Son of a third 
+Battus, his treatment of political enemies, 1v. 162-164; his 
+death, Iv. 164 
+
+Archandrus, son-in-law of Danaus, an Egyptian town called 
+after him, 11. 98 
+
+Archelai, a Sicyonian tribe so named by Cleisthenes of Sicyon, 
+v. 68 
+
+Archelaus, a king of Sparta, Υπ. 204 
+
+Archestratides, a Samian, 1x. 90 
+
+Archias, (1) a Spartan, his exploit in the Lacedaemonian attack 
+on Polycrates of Samos, 111. 55. (2) Grandson of the above, 
+honour paid him by the Samians, ΙΙΙ. 55. 
+
+Archidemus, (1) a Spartan, one of Leutychides’ ancestors, son 
+of Anaxandrides, vi. 131. (2) A king of Sparta, son of 
+Zeuxidemus, vi. 71 
+
+Archidice, a courtesan of Naucratis, rr. 135 
+
+Archilochus of Paros, inventor of the iambic metre, I. 12 
+
+Ardericca, (1) a village in Assyria, 1. 185. (2) A place near Susa, 
+vi. 119. 
+
+Ardys, king of Lydia, son of Gyges, 1. 15 
+
+Arei, a tribe of the Persian empire, their tribute, 111. 93 
+
+Areopagus at Athens, vri. 52 
+
+Ares, ΥΠ. 140, νιπ. 77; local cults, in Egypt, 11. 36, 59, 83; in 
+Scythia, rv. 59-62; in Thrace, v. 7, vil. 76 
+
+Argades, son of Ion, his name given to one of the four ancient 
+Athenian tribes, v. 66 
+
+Argaeus, a king of Macedonia, son of Perdiccas, vii. 139 
+
+Arganthonius, king of Tartessus (at the mouth of the Guadal- 
+quivir), his friendship with the Phocaeans, 1. 162, 165 
+
+Arge and Opis, two maidens fabled to have come from the 
+Hyperboreans to Delos, Iv. 35 
+
+Argea, wife of Aristodemus, king of Sparta, vi. 52 
+
+Argilus, a town west of the Strymon, vir. 115 
+
+Argimpasa, a Scythian goddess identified with Aphrodite, Iv. 
+59, 67 
+
+Argiopium, a place near Plataea, ΙΧ. 57 
+
+
+311 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Argippaei, a primitive people adjacent to Scythia, said to be 
+bald, 1v. 23 
+
+Argo, voyage of the ship to Libya, 1v. 179; to Colchis, ντι. 192 
+
+Argos and Argives, Io carried off from Argos, I. 1, 5; war 
+between Sparta and Argos, 1. 82; Argive musicians, rir. 131; 
+Cadmeans expelled from Doeotia by Argives, v. 57, 61; war 
+with Sicyon, v. 67; Argive tribes, v. 68; alliance with Aegina 
+against Athens, v. 86-89; war against Sparta, VI. 75-84; 
+quarrel with Aegina, vr. 92; Argive neutrality in the Persian 
+war, ΥΠ. 148-152; good offices to Mardonius, 1x. 12; madness 
+of Argive women, IX. 24 
+
+Argus, a local hero, his temple violated by Cleomenes, v1. 75-82 
+
+Ariabignes, a Persian general, son of Darius, vir. 97; killed at 
+Salamis, virt. 89 
+
+Ariantas, a king of Scythia, 1v. 81 
+
+Ariapithes, a king of Scythia, 1v. 78 
+
+Ariaramnes, (1) a Persian, viir. 90. (2) Son of Teispes, an ancestor 
+of Xerxes, VII. ll. 
+
+Ariazus, a Persian, vir. 82 
+
+Aridolis, despot of Alabanda in Caria, vri. 195 
+
+Arii, a Median people, vir. 62 
+
+Arimaspi, a fabled northern people, said to be one-eyed, 111. 116, 
+IV. 13, 14; 27 
+
+Arimnestus, a Plataean, ΙΧ. 72 
+
+Ariomardus, (1) a Persian officer in Xerxes’ army, son of Arta- 
+banus, vir. 67. (2) A Persian officer in Xerxes’ army, son of 
+Darius, vir. 78 
+
+Arion, a minstrel of Methymna, story of his rescue from death 
+by a dolphin, 1. 23, 24 
+
+Ariphron, an Athenian, Pericles’ grandfather, vi. 131, vir. 33, 
+virt. 191 
+
+Arisba, a town of Lesbos, 1. 151 
+
+Aristagoras, (1) despot of Cyzicus, rv. 138. (2) A Samian, rx. 
+90. (3) Despot of Cyme, rv. 138, v.37. (4) A Milesian, organiser 
+of the Ionic revolt against Darius, v. 30-38, vr. 1, 5, 9, 13, 18; 
+his appeal to Sparta, v. 49-55; to Athens, v. 65, 97-100; his 
+flight and death, v. 124-126. 
+
+Aristeas, (1) a Corinthian, son of Adeimantus, ΥΠ. 137. (2) A 
+Proconnesian poet, son of Caystrobius, his travels in the north, 
+disappearance and subsequent reappearance after 340 years, 
+Iv. 13-16 
+
+Aristides, an Athenian, ostracised by the people, his conference 
+
+
+EI 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+with Themistocles bcfore Salamis, vir. 79-82; his part in 
+the battle, vii. 95; at Plataea, 1x. 28 
+
+Aristocrates, an Aeginetan, vi. 73 
+
+Aristocyprus, king of the Solii, a leader in the Cyprian revolt 
+against Persia, v. 113 
+
+Aristodemus, (1) sole survivor of the Lacedaemonians at Thermo- 
+pylae, vir. 229-231; his death at Plataea, 1x. 71. (2) A king 
+of Sparta, vi. 52, vir. 204, vir. 131 
+
+Aristodicus of Cyme, r. 158 
+
+Aristogiton, one of the murderers of Hipparchus, v. 55, vr. 109 
+123 
+
+Aristolaidas, an Athenian, 1. 59 
+
+Aristomachus, a king of Sparta, νι. 52, vir. 204, vir. 131 
+
+Ariston, (1) king of Sparta temp. Croesus, r. 67, v. 75, νι. 51, 
+61-69. (2) Despot of Byzantium, rv. 138 
+
+Aristonice, Pythian priestess temp. Xerxes’ invasion, vir. 140 
+
+Aristonymus of Sicyon, a suitor for Cleisthenes’ daughter, vr. 
+126 
+
+Aristophantus, a Delphian, νι. 66 
+
+Aristophilides, king of Taras (Tarentum), rrr. 136 
+
+Arizanti, one of the six Median E I. 101 
+
+Armenia, source of the Halys, 1. 72; of the Euphrates, 1. 180, 
+199; adjacent to Cilicia, v. 49, 52: ' part of the Persian empire, 
+II. 93; Armenians in Xerxes' army, vil. 73 
+
+Arpoxais, one of the sons of Targitäus the legendary founder 
+of the Scythian people, tv. 5 
+
+Arsamenes, a Persian officer in Xerxes’ army, son of Darius, 
+vu. 68 
+
+Arsames, (1) a Persian, father of Hystaspes, first mentioned, 
+1. 209. (2) A Persian officer in Xerxes’ army, son of Darius, 
+vit. 69 
+
+Artabanus, Xerxes' uncle, son of Hystaspes, dissuades Darius 
+from the Scythian expedition, Iv. 83; a conversation with 
+Darius, Iv. 143; advice to Xerxes against his expedition to 
+Greece, VII. 10-12; his vision and change of mind, vir. 15- 
+18; his dialogue with Xerxes at Abydos, vit. 46-52. Else- 
+where as a patronymic. 
+
+Artabates, a Persian, vtr. 65 
+
+Artabazus, a Persian general in Xerxes’ army, vir. 66; his 
+siege of towns in Chalcidice, viri. 126-129; disagreement 
+with Mardonius before Plataea, rx. 41, 58; ‘flight "with his 
+army from Plataea, 1x. 66; return to Asia, ix. 89 
+
+
+ο 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Artace, a town near Cyzicus, Iv. 14, νι. 33 
+
+Artachaees, the Persian engineer of Xerxes' canal through Athos, 
+vir. 22; his death, ΥΠ. 117. Elsewhere a patronymic. 
+
+Artaei, an old name for the Persians, vir. 61 
+
+Artaeus, two Persians of the name, vit. 22 and vir. 66 
+
+Artanes, (1) a brother of Darius, vir. 224. (2) A Thracian tributary 
+of the Danube, tv. 49 
+
+Artaphrenes, (1) Darius’ brother, the Persian governor of Sardis, 
+v. 25; his alliance with Aristagoras, and its rupture, v. 30-33; 
+negotiation with Athenians, v. 73, 96; at Sardis when taken 
+by Athenians and Ionians, v. 100; his operations in Ionia, 
+v. 123; charge against Histiaeus, v1. 1; punishment of con- 
+spirators at Sardis, vi. 4; execution of Histiaeus, vi. 30; 
+taxation of Ionia, vi. 42. (2) Son of the above, colleague of 
+Datis in the invasion of Attica, vr. 94, 119, vir. 8, 10, 74 
+
+Artayetes, a Persian general under Xerxes, and governor of 
+Sestus, captured and erucified by the Greeks for his violation 
+of a temple, ΥΠ. 33, 78, ΙΧ. 116-120 
+
+Artaynte, daughter of Xerxes’ brother Masistes, Xerxes’ intrigue 
+with her, 1x. 108-112 
+
+Artayntes, (1) à Persian general in Xerxes’ army, son of Arta- 
+chaees, vir. 130; his escape after Mycale, 1x. 102, 107. (2) A 
+Persian general in Xerxes’ army, son of Ithamitres, vir. 67 
+
+Artembares, (1) a Mede, his complaint to Astyages of Cyrus’ 
+treatment of Artembares’ son, 1. 114-116. (2) A Persian, 
+ancestor of Artayctes, his proposal to Cyrus, Ix. 122 
+
+Artemis, her worship in the Greek world, 1. 26, 111. 48, rv. 35, 
+87, νι. 138, vir. 176, vir. 77; in Thrace and Scythia, Iv. 33, 
+V. 7; in Egypt (as Bubastis), 11. 59, 83, 137, 155, 156 
+
+Artemisia, queen of Halicarnassus, with Xerxes’ fleet, vir. 99; 
+her advice to Xerxes before Salamis, virt. 68; conduct in the 
+battle, viri. 87; advice to Xerxes after Salamis, vrr. 101-103 
+
+Artemisium, in northern Euboea, described, vir 176; station 
+of the Greek fleet, vir. 182, 192, 194, ντ. 4-6; battles with 
+Xerxes’ fleet, vir. 8-23; abandoned by the Greeks, vin. 40 
+
+Artescus, a river in Thrace, crossed by Darius on his way to 
+Scythia, rv. 92 
+
+Artobazanes, eldest son of Darius, his candidature for the throne 
+of Persia, vir. 2 
+
+Artochmos, a Persian officer under Xerxes, vir. 73 
+
+Artontes, (1) a Persian, 1. 128. (2) A Persian, son of Mardonius, 
+IX. 81 
+
+
+314 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Artoxerxes, king of Persia, son of Xerxes, vir. 106; his friendly 
+relations with Argos, vir. 151 
+
+Artozostre, daughter of Darius and wife of Mardonius, vi. 43 
+
+Artybius, a Persian general in Cyprus, v. 108-112 
+
+Artyphius, a Persian officer in Xerxes’ army, son of Artabanus, 
+vit. 66 
+
+Artystone, Cyrus’ daughter, wife of Darius, rrr. 88 
+
+Aryandes, Persian satrap of Egypt under Darius, his silver 
+coinage, IV. 166; his forces sent to reinstate Pheretime in 
+Barca, rv. 167, 200 
+
+Aryenis, daughter of Alyattes king of Lydia, married to Astyages 
+the Mede, 1. 74 
+
+Asbystae, a tribe of Libya, 1v. 170 
+
+Ascalon, à town in Syria, 1. 105 
+
+Asia: beginning of troubles between Asia and Greece, r. 4. 
+Croesus’ conquest of Asiatic Greeks, 1. 6; division of Upper 
+and Lower Asia by the Halys, 1. 72; Assyrian rule of Upper 
+Asia, 1. 95; Asia ruled by Medes, 1. 102; by Scythians, 1. 
+103-106, τν. 4, vu. 20; by Persians, 1. 130; Ionians of 
+Asia, 1. 142; Median conquest of Lower, Persian of Upper 
+Asia, 1. 177; wealth of Assyria a third of entire wealth of 
+Asia, 1. 192; division of Asia and Libya, τι. 16, 17; Darius’ 
+Asiatic empire, ΠΙ. 88-04; extremities of Asia (e.g. Arabia), 
+πι. 115; prosperity of Asia under Darius, Iv. 1; mistake 
+of those who think Europe no bigger than Asia, Iv. 36; 
+geography of the world, rv. 37-42; name of Asia, Iv. 45; 
+Asia and Libya compared, rv. 198; Aristagoras' map of Asia, 
+v. 49; the “royal road” in Asia, v. 52; Asia “shaken for 
+three years" by Darius' preparations against Greece, vir. 1; 
+every nation of Asia in Xerxes’ armament, vil. 21, 157; 
+numbers of Asiatie contingents, vii. 184; Persian belief that 
+all Asia is theirs, 1x. 116 (many other unimportant reff.) 
+
+Asia, wife of Prometheus, 1v. 45 
+
+Asias, (1) son of Cotys, a legendary Lydian, 1v. 45. (2) A clan 
+at Sardis, iv. 45 
+
+Asine, a town in Laconia, virt. 73 
+
+Asmach, name of a people in Ethiopia, rr. 30 
+
+Asonides, captain of an Aeginetan ship captured by Xerxes’ 
+fleet near Sciathus, vri. 181 
+
+Asopii, inhabitants of the Asopus valley, 1x. 15 
+
+Asopodorus, a Theban cavalry leader under Mardonius at Plataea, 
+IX. 69 
+
+
+315 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Asopus, (1) a river in Trachis near Thermopylae, ΥΠ. 199, 216, 
+217. (2) A river in Doeotia, made the boundary between 
+Theban and Plataean territory, vi. 108; frequently referred 
+to in connection with the Plataean campaign of Mardonius, 
+who encamped on its bank, 1x. 15-59 
+
+Aspathines, one of the seven conspirators against the Magians, 
+I1. 70, 78 
+
+Assa, a town in the Singitic gulf west of Athos, vir. 122 
+
+Assesus, à town with a local cult of Athene, in the lands of 
+Miletus, 1. 19, 22 
+
+Assyria: Assyrian rule of Upper Asia, 1. 95; resistance to 
+Medes, r. 102; Median conquest of all Assyria but Babylonia, 
+I 106; Cyrus’ invasion, 1. 178, 188; Herodotus’ proposed 
+Assyrian history, 1. 183; some account of Assyria, 1. 192— 
+194; Sanacharibus’ invasion of Egypt with Arabians and 
+Assyrians, 11. 141; Assyrian script, Iv. 87; Perseus an 
+Assyrian, VI. 54; Assyrians in Xerxes’ army, VII. 63 
+
+Astacus, a legendary Theban, v. 67 
+
+Aster, a Spartan, v. 63 
+
+Astrabacus, a Spartan hero or demigod, vi. 69 
+
+Astyages, a Median king, son of Cyaxares and son-in-law of 
+Croesus, I. 73-75; his treatment of Cyrus as a child and as 
+a youth, and his dealings with Harpagus, 1. 107-125; deposed 
+by Cyrus, 1. 127-130 
+
+Asychis, king of Egypt, builder of a brick pyramid, 11. 136 
+
+Atarantes, a people in Libya, Iv. 184 
+
+Atarbechis, a town in Egypt with a temple of ** Aphrodite," 11. 41 
+
+Atarneus, a district of Mysia, τ. 160, γι. 28, 29, νπι. 106; on 
+Xerxes’ line of march, ΥΠ. 42 
+
+Athamas, a legendary Greek hero, vir. 58; ritual of human 
+sacrifice connected with his family, vir. 197 
+
+Athenades, of Trachis, vir. 213 
+
+Athenagoras, of Samos, 1x. 90 
+
+Athene (and Pallas), Libyan tradition of, rv. 180; cult at Athens, 
+I. 60, v. 77, 82, ντ. 141, vit. 37, 39, 55; elsewhere, 1. 19, 22, 
+62, 66, 92, 160, 175, 11. 28, 59, 83, 169, 175, 182, 111. 59, ιν. 180, 
+188, v. 45, 95, VII. 43, ΥἈΠΙ. 94, 104, 1x. 70 
+
+Athens and Athenians, passim in Bks. v-1x; Solon’s legislation 
+at Athens, 1. 29; Athenians the leading Ionian people, 1. 
+56, 146; Pisistratus’ usurpation of power, 1. 59-64; Ionian 
+appeal to Athens, v. 55, 97; murder of Hipparchus, v. 56; 
+expulsion of Hippias with help from Sparta, v. 62 foll.; legis- 
+
+
+316 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+lation of Cleisthenes, v. 66 foll.; his expulsion attempted by 
+Cleomenes of Sparta, v. 72, 73; Dorian invasion of Aítica, 
+v. 74-76; wars of Athens against Boeotia and Aegina, v. 
+77-89; decision of Peloponnesian congress not to restore 
+Hippias, v. 93; Athens an open enemy of Persia, v. 96; 
+Athenians support lonian revolt, v. 97; Miltiades (the elder) 
+at Athens, vr. 35; hostages for Aeginetan good faith sent 
+to Athens, vi. 73; Athenian refusal to restore them (story 
+of Glaucus), vr. 85 foll.; war between Athens and Aegina, 
+vI. 87-93; Persian invasion of Attica and battle of Marathon, 
+vi. 102-117; alleged treachery of the Aicmeonidae disproved, 
+vi. 121-124; reception of Darius’ envoys at Athens, ΥΠ. 
+133; Athens the saviour of Greece, vir. 139; oracles given 
+to Athenians at Delphi, vir. 140-142; additions to Athenian 
+fleet on Themistocles’ advice, vir. 143, 144; Athenian envoy 
+at Syracuse, vir. 161; Athenian ships at! Artemisium, VIII. 
+l, 10, 14, 17, 18; Athenian migration to Salamis, vir. 40, 
+41; origin of the name “ Athenian,” vit. 44; siege and 
+capture of Athens, vit. 52, 53, 54; Athenians before the 
+battle of Salamis, vu. 57 foll.; in the battle itself, ΥΠ. 
+83-96; their pursuit of Xerxes’ fleet, 108 foll.; Athenian 
+refusal to make terms with Persia, vir. 140-144; occupation 
+of Athens by Mardonius, 1x. 3; renewed refusal to make 
+terms, IX. 4, 5; Athenian demands at Sparta for help, ix. 
+7-11; Mardonius’ departure from Attica, Ix. 13; Athenian 
+exploits in the campaign of Plataea, 1x. 21, 22; their claim 
+of the place of honour in the army, 1x. 26-28; movements 
+of Athenians before the battle of Plataea, rx. 44-47, 54, 55, 
+56; their part in the battle, 1x. 60, 61, 70, 73; Athenians 
+in the battle of Mycale, 1x. 102; their policy for Ionia, rx. 
+106; siege and capture of Sestus by Athenians, rx. 114-118. 
+(See also Pisistratus, Cleisthenes, Miltiades, Themistocles) 
+
+Athos, promontory in Chaleidice, Persian shipwreck there, v1. 
+44, 95, vir. 189; Xerxes’ canal across it, vir. 22, 37, 122 
+
+Athribite, province in Egypt, 11. 166 
+
+Athrys, a river in Thrace, Iv. 49 
+
+Atlantes, a people in Libya, Iv. 184 
+
+Atlantic sea, ** outside the Pillars of Heracles," united with the 
+Greek sea and the Persian gulf, 1. 203 
+
+Atlas, (1) the mountain in Libya, rv. 184. (2) A river flowing 
+from the Balkan range into the Danube, tv. 49 
+
+Atossa, daughter of Cyrus, wife first of Cambyses, then of tho 
+
+
+317 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Magian, then of Darius, m1. 68, 88; her desire that Darius 
+should invade Greece, 111. 133-134; her influence with Darius, 
+vit. 2 
+
+Atramyttium, a town on Xerxes' route through W. Asia Minor, 
+vu. 42 
+
+Atridae, Agamemnon and Menelaus, Υπ. 20 
+
+Attaginus, a leading Theban friendly to Mardonius, 1x. 15; 
+Greek demand for his surrender, 1x. 86; his escape, 1x. 88 
+
+Attica: Attic language, γι. 138; Attic weights and measures, 
+I. 192; Attic dance movements, vr. 129. (See Athens.) 
+
+Atys, (1) son of Croesus, accidentally killed by Adrastus, r. 
+34-45; father of Pythius, vri. 27. (2) Earliest mentioned 
+king of Lydia, son of Manes, 1. 7, ΥΠ. 74; a dearth in his 
+reign, 1. 04 
+
+Auchatae, one of the earliest Scythian tribes, Iv. 6 
+
+Augila, a date-growing place in Libya, on the caravan route 
+from Egypt to the west, 1v. 172, 182-184 
+
+Auras, a river flowing from the Balkan range into the Danube, 
+Iv. 49 
+
+Auschisae, à Libyan people on the sea coast, near Barca, 1v. 171 
+
+Ausees, à Libyan people on the sea coast, 1v. 180, 191 
+
+Autesion, a Theban, descended from Polynices, 1v. 147, vr. 52 
+
+Autodicus, à Plataean, 1x. 85 
+
+Autonous, a hero worshipped at Delphi, his alleged aid against 
+the Persians, virr. 39 
+
+Auxesia, a goddess of fertility worshipped in Aegina and Epi- 
+daurus, v. 82-83 
+
+Axius (Vardar), a river in Macedonia, vir. 123 
+
+Azanes, a Persian officer in Xerxes’ army, VII. 66 
+
+Aziris, a place in Libya, a Greek settlement there, rv. 157, 169 
+
+Azotus, a town in Syria, 11. 157 
+
+
+Babylon, the capital of Assyria; alliance with Croesus, I. 77; 
+description of the city, 1. 178-183; Nitocris and navigation 
+of the Euphrates, 1. 184-186; her tomb, 1. 187; Cyrus’ siege 
+and capture of Babylon, r. 188-191; details of Babylonian 
+life, 1. 93, 192—200, τι. 109, rrr. 89, 95, τν. 198; tribute paid to 
+Persia, 111. 92; siege and capture by Darius, ir. 150-160 
+
+Bacchiadae, a powerful clan at Corinth, v. 92 
+
+Bacchic mysteries, 11. 81 
+
+Dacis, reputed author or compiler of oracles, viu. 20, 77, 96, 
+IX. 43 
+
+
+318 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Bactra, in the eastern part of the Persian cmpire, still to be 
+subdued by Cyrus, τ. 153; tribute paid to Persia, mr. 92; 
+conquered peoples exiled thither, rv. 204, νι. 9; Bactrians 
+in Xerxes’ army, vil. 64, 66, 86; with Mardonius, vu. 113; 
+Masistes' plan for a Bactrian revolt, 1x. 113 
+
+Badres, (1) a Persian commander in the expedition against 
+Cyrene, Iv. 167, 203. (2) A Persian officer in Xerxes’ army, 
+son of Hystanes, vir. 77 
+
+Bagaeus, a Persian, employed by Darius against Oroctes, 11. 
+128; father of Mardontes, vir. 80, vir. 130 
+
+Barca, a town of northern Libya, a colony from Cyrene, tv. 160; 
+its tribute to Persia, ΙΠ. 91; submission to Cambyses, mI. 
+13; troubles with Cyrene, Iv. 164, 167; captured and en- 
+slaved by Persians, 200-205 
+
+Basileides, an Ionian, father of Herodotus the historian’s name- 
+sake, ΥἹΠ. 132 
+
+Bassaces, a Persian officer in Xerxes’ army, son of Artabanus, 
+ΥΠ. 75 
+
+Battiadae, descendants of Battus, rv. 202 
+
+Battus; three of this name, all kings of Cyrene (see Arcesilaus). 
+(1) A man of Thera, son of Polymnestus, and first colonist of 
+Cyrene, Iv. 150-159. (2) Grandson of the above, called “ the 
+fortunate "; his defeat of an Egyptian army, 1v. 159. 
+(3) Grandson of the last; curtailment of his royal power at 
+Cyrene, 1v. 161. (** Battus " said to be a Libyan word meaning 
+“ king,” τν. 155.) 
+
+Belbinite, an inhabitant of the islet of Belbina off Attica, used 
+by Themistocles as an instance of an insignificant place, vir. 
+125 
+
+Belian gates of Babylon, opened to admit Darius’ besieging 
+army, ΠΠ. 155, 158 
+
+Belus, a legendary descendant of Heracles, 1. 7, and perhaps, 
+vil. 61, apparently = the Asiatie god Bel, who has affinities 
+with Heracles; the Babylonian form of “ Bel" (Baal); 
+identified with Zeus, 1. 181 (the temple of Zeus Belus). 
+
+Bermius, a mountain range in Macedonia, virr. 138 
+
+Bessi, a priestly clan among the Satrae of Thrace, ντι. 111 
+
+Bias, (1) brother of the seer Melampus, ix. 34. (2) Bias of 
+Priene, one of the ‘“‘ Seven Sages,” his advice to Croesus, I. 
+27: to the Ionians, 1. 170 
+
+Bisaltae, a Thracian tribe, vi. 116; their country Bisaltia, 
+vir. 115 
+
+
+319 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Bisaltes, a man of Abydos, vr. 26 
+
+Bisanthe, a town on the Hellespont, vir. 137 
+
+Bistones, a Thracian tribe, viz. 109, 110 
+
+Bithynians, in Xerxes’ army, originally ‘Thracians, ΥΠ. 75; 
+cp. 1. 28 
+
+Biton, of Argos, brother of Cleobis, story of their filial devotion, 
+I, 31 
+
+Boebean lake, in Thessaly, ΥΠ. 129 
+
+Boeotia: Phoenician immigration, Π. 49, v. 57; war with 
+Athens, v. 74-81; alliance with Aegina, v. 89; “sacred 
+road " through Boeotia, γι. 34; strife of Athens and Boeotia, 
+vI. 108; submission to Xerxes, ΥΠ. 132; Boeotians at Thermo- 
+pylae, Υπ. 202, 233; nearly all Boeotia on Persian side, vin. 
+34, 66; Mardonius established in Boeotia, ΙΧ. 15, 17, 19; 
+Boeotians in his army, 1x. 31, 46; their courage, 1x. 67 
+
+Boges, Persian governor of Eion, his desperate defence of the 
+place, vir. 107 
+
+Bolbitine mouth of the Nile artificial, rr. 17 
+
+Boreas, the personified north wind, invoked by the Athenians 
+before the Persian shipwreck, ντι. 189 
+
+Borysthenes, (1) a Scythian river, the Dnieper, tv. 5, 18, 24, 47, 
+53-50, 81, 101. (2) A Greek port at the river's mouth, Iv. 
+17, 53, 74, 78; said to be a colony from Miletus, 1v. 78 
+
+Bosporus, (1) Thracian, bridged by Darius, rv. 83-89, 118, vir. 
+10. (2) Cimmerian (entrance to the Palus Maeotis), Iv. 12, 
+28, 100 
+
+Bottiaea, a district on the Thracian sea-board, vir. 185, VIII. 
+127 
+
+Branchidae, an oracular shrine near Miletus, 1. 46, rr. 159; 
+Croesus’ offerings there, 1. 92, v. 36; answer of the oracle 
+about the surrender of a suppliant, 1. 157-159 
+
+Brauron, in Attica, Athenian women carried off thence by 
+Pelasgians, 1v. 145, v1. 138 
+
+Brentesium (mod. Brindisi), rv. 99 
+
+Briantic country, on the Thracian sea-board, ΥΠ. 108 
+
+Briges, old name of the Phrygians, vir. 73 
+
+Brongus, a tributary of the Danube, 1v. 49 
+
+Brygi Thracian tribesmen, their attack on Mardonius’ first 
+expedition, vr. 45; part of Xerxes' army, ΥΠ. 185 
+
+Bubares, a Persian, son of Megabazus, married to the sister of 
+Alexander of Macedonia, v. 21, vir. 136; one of the engineers 
+of the Athos canal, vir. 22 
+
+
+320 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Bubastis, (1) an Egyptian goddess identified with Artemis, rr. 
+59, 83, 137, 156. (2) An Egyptian town, rr. 59, 67, 137, 154, 
+158, 166. (Bubastite province, rr. 166) 
+
+Bucolic mouth of the Nile artificial, 11. 17 
+
+Budii, a Median tribe, 1. 101 
+
+Budini, a people adjacent to Scythia, rv. 21, 102, 105, 119, 122, 
+136; their town of wood, and their Greek customs, tv. 108 
+
+Bulis, à Spartan, his offer to expiate the Spartan killing of 
+Persian envoys by surrendering himself to Xerxes, vir. 134-137 
+
+Bura, à town in Argolis, r. 145 
+
+Busae, a Median tribe, r. 101 
+
+Busiris, à town in the Delta with a temple of Isis, rr. 59, 61; 
+Busirite province, ΙΙ. 165 
+
+Butacides, a man of Croton, v. 47 
+
+Buto, a town in the Delta, with a cult of Apollo and Artemis, 
+and an oracular slirine of Leto (Uat), 11. 59, 63, 67, 75, 83, 111, 
+133, 152, 111. 64; description of the temple, rr. 155 
+
+Bybassia, a peninsula in Caria, 1. 174 
+
+Byzantium, Iv. 87, vi. 33; beauty of its site, rv. 144; taken 
+by Otanes, v. 26; annexed by Ionian rebels, v. 103; occupied 
+by Histiaeus, νι. 5, 26; Artabazus there in return to Asia, 
+Ix. 89 
+
+
+Cabales, a small tribe in northern Libya, near Barca, Iv. 171 
+
+Cabalees, a people on the Lycian border, their tribute to Persia, 
+ΠΠ. 90; in Xerxes’ army, vit. 77 
+
+Cabiri, minor deities worshipped in many places, in Samothrace 
+and Memphis, 11. 51, 111. 37 
+
+Cadmeans, alleged Phoenician immigrants into Greece with 
+Cadmus, 1. 56, 146, v. 57; a Cadmean script, v. 59; once 
+settled at Thebes, rx. 27; a “ Cadmean victory " one where 
+victors are no better off than vanquished, 1. 166 
+
+Cadmus, (1) a Tyrian, son of Agenor, in Boeotia, rr 49; 
+chronology, 1. 145 (cp. Cadmeans) (2) A Coan, son of 
+Scythes; an emissary from Gelon of Sicily, vir. 163 
+
+Cadytis, a town in Syria (Gaza), 111.5; taken by Necos, 11. 159 
+
+Caicus, a river between Lydia and Mysia, νι. 28, ντι. 42 
+
+Caeneus, a Corinthian, father of Eétion, v. 92 
+
+Calamisa (or Calama), in Samos, ΙΧ. 96 
+
+Calasiries, one of the Egyptian warrior tribes, 11. 164; some 
+account of them, 1. 166, 168; in Mardonius’ army at Plataea, 
+IX. 32 
+
+
+321 
+
+
+VOL, IV, (HERODOTUS) M 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Callantiae, an Indian people, rrr. 97; perhaps the same as the 
+Callatiae, q.v. 
+
+Callatebus, a town in Lydia on Xerxes’ line of march, vu. 31 
+
+Callatiae, Indian cannibals, rrr. 38 
+
+Calchas, the legendary seer, ΥΠ. 51 
+
+Calchedon (or Chalcedon), on the Hellespont, τν. 85; its site 
+compared with that of Byzantium, 1v. 144; taken by Otanes, 
+v. 26; burnt by Phoenicians, vr. 33 
+
+Calliades, archon at Athens in 480 B.C., vit. 51 
+
+Callias, (1) an Elean seer, acting with Croton in its war with 
+Sybaris, v. 44. (2) An Athenian, son of Hipponicus; an 
+envoy to Xerxes’ son Artoxerxes in 448 B.C., vir. 151. (3) 
+Grandfather of the above, a noted Athenian champion of 
+freedom and enemy of Pisistratus, vi. 121 
+
+Callierates, a Spartan killed (but not in actual fighting) at Plataea, 
+IX. 72 
+
+Callimachus of Aphidnae, the Athenian polemarch, with the 
+army at Marathon, his vote for battle, νι. 109, 110; his death, 
+vi. 114 
+
+Calliphon, a man of Croton, rrr. 125 
+
+Callipidae, “Greek Scythians" near the town of Borysthenes, 
+IV. 17 
+
+Callipolitae, settlers in Sicily from the adjacent town of Naxos 
+vit. 154 
+
+Calliste, old name of the island of Thera, rv. 147 
+
+Calydnians, islanders in Xerxes’ fleet, vir. 99 
+
+Calynda, on the frontier of Lycia, 1. 172; Calyndians in Xerxes' 
+fleet, vill. 87 
+
+Camarina, in Sicily, ΥΠ. 154; its citizens transferred to Syracuse 
+by Gelon, vir. 156 
+
+Cambyses, (1) a Persian, son of Teispes, son-in-law of Astyages 
+and father of Cyrus, 1. 107; elsewhere mostly a patronymic 
+of Cyrus. (2) King of Persia, son of Cyrus, his accession, 
+I. 208, τι. 1; conquest of Egypt, τ. 1-4, 9-16; expeditions to 
+Ethiopia and Libya, 19-26; his sacrilegious and criminal acts 
+while in Egypt, especially the murder of his brother, rm. 97-- 
+38; Magian usurpation of the Persian throne, and Cambyses’ 
+death, πι. 61-66; Greeks in Egypt during Cambyses’ occupa- 
+tion, rr. 139; Cambyses’ punishment of an unjust judge, 
+v. 25 (other unimportant reff.) 
+
+Camicus, a town in Sicily, scene of Minos’ death, vir. 169 
+
+Camirus, a Dorian town in Rhodes, 1. 144 
+
+
+322 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Campsa, a town adjacent to the Thermaic gulf, ντι, 123 
+
+Canastraean promontory at the extremity of Pallene, vrr. 123 
+
+Candaules, (1) called Myrsilus by the Greeks, despot of Sardis, 
+1. 7; murdered by his wife and Gyges, 1. 10-13. (2) A Carian, 
+vit. 98 
+
+Canobus, à town in Egypt, giving its name to the adjacent 
+mouth of the Nile, rr. 15, 17, 97, 113, 179 
+
+Caphereus, a promontory in Euboea, virt. 7 
+
+Cappadocia, its situation, r. 72, v. 49, 52; attacked and con- 
+quered by Cyrus, 1. 71, 73, 76; on Xerxes’ line of march, 
+ΥΠ. 26; Cappadocians in his army, vil. 72 
+
+Carchedon (Carthage); Carchedonian and Italian attack on 
+Phocaeans in Corsica, 1. 166; Cambyses' proposed conquest of 
+Carchedon, ΙΙ. 17-19; Carchedonian story of the island 
+Cyrauis, Iv. 195; expulsion of a Greek colony in Libya by 
+Carchedonians, v. 42; successes of Gelon against them in 
+Sicily, vir. 158, 165-167 
+
+Carcinitis, at the mouth of the Hypacyris, on the eastern frontier 
+of “ old ” Scythia, rv. 55, 99 
+
+Cardamyle, a town in Laconia, ΥΠΙ, 73 
+
+Cardia, a town in the Thracian Chersonese (peninsula of Gallipoli), 
+vi. 33, 36, 1x. 115; on Xerxes’ line of march, vir. 58 
+
+Carene, a town in Mysia, on Xerxes’ route, vil. 42 
+
+Carenus, a Spartan, vil. 173 
+
+Carians, islanders originally, the chief people in the Minoan 
+empire, 1. 171; their inventions of armour, ib.; attacked by 
+the Persians, 7b.; subdued, 1. 174; Carian settlers in Egypt, 
+II. 61, 152, 154; Apries’ Carian guard, rr. 163, 11. 11; Carian 
+tribute to Persia, rr. 90; a Carian warrior in the Cyprian 
+revolt, v. 111; Carian revolt against Darius, v. 117-121; 
+subdued, νι. 25; Carians in Xerxes’ fleet, vir. 93, 97, VIIL 22; 
+Carian language not understood by Greeks, vir. 135; so-called 
+* Ionian " dress really Carian, v. 88 
+
+Carnea, a Lacedaemonian festival in honour of Apollo, held in 
+early August, ΥΠ. 206, VIII. 72 
+
+Carpathus, an island S.W. of the Peloponnese, 111. 45 
+
+Carpis, a western tributary of the Danube, τν. 49 
+
+Carystus, on the south coast of Euboea, Iv. 33; subdued by 
+Persians, vri. 99; in Xerxes’ army, vur. 66; attacked by 
+Greeks, vir. 112, 121; war between Athens and Carystus, rx. 105 
+
+Casambus, one of the Aeginetan hostages handed over to Athens 
+by Cleomenes, vi. 73 
+
+
+323 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Casian mountain, low sandhills on the eastern frontier of Egypt, 
+II. 6, IIL 5 
+
+Casmena, a town in Sicily, vir. 155 
+
+Caspatyrus, a town probably on the Indus, mi. 102, τν. 44 
+
+Caspian Sea, its size, r. 203; northern boundary of the Persian 
+empire, IV. 40; Caspian tribute paid to Persia, 111. 92; Caspii 
+in Xerxes’ army, vit. 67, 86 
+
+Cassandane, mother of Cambyses, r1. 1, m1. 2 
+
+Cassiterides (tin-produeing) islands, perhaps Britain, their exist- 
+ence questioned by Herodotus, 11. 115 
+
+Castalian spring at Delphi, νι. 39 
+
+Casthanaea, a town in Magnesia, ΥΠ. 183, 188 
+
+Catadupa, the first or Assuan cataract of the Nile, source of the 
+river, according to Herodotus, 11. 17 
+
+Catarrhactes, a tributary of the Maeander, rising at Celaenae, 
+VII. 26 
+
+Catiari, one of the oldest Scythian tribes, Iv. 6 
+
+Caucasa, on the S. E. coast of Chios, v. 33 
+
+Caucasus range, I. 104, 203, 111. 97, Iv. 12 
+
+Caucones, an Arcadian people, one of the most ancient of Greek 
+races, I. 147, 1v. 148 
+
+Caunus, near Caria and Lycia, origin of its people, 1. 172; attacked 
+and subdued by the Medes, 1. 171, 176; participation in Ionian 
+revolt against Darius, v. 103 
+
+Caystrius, a river near Sardis, v. 100 
+
+Caystrobius, a Proconnesian, father of Aristeas, Iv. 13 
+
+Ceans, natives of Ceos in the Aegean, 1v. 35; in the Greek fleet, 
+vill. 1, 46 
+
+Cecrops, king of Athens, vir. 141, vm. 53; Athenians called 
+Cecropidae, vIr. 44 
+
+Celaenae, a town in Phrygia at the junction of the Marsyas and 
+Maeander, on Xerxes’ route, ΥΠ. 26 
+
+Celeas, a Spartan companion of Dorieus’ voyage to Italy, v. 
+46 
+
+
+Celti, the farthest west (but one) of all European nations, beyond 
+the Pillars of Heracles, 11. 33; source of the Danube in their 
+eountry, Iv. 49 
+
+Ceos, apparently a place in Salamis (but not identified), virt. 76; 
+clearly not the island in the Aegean. 
+
+Cephallenia, an island west of Greece, its contingent at Plataea, 
+IX 29 
+
+Cephenes, an old name for the Persians, vir. 61 
+
+
+324 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Cepheus, son of Belus (ᾳ.υ.) and father of Andromeda, wife of 
+Perseus, vir. 61, 150 
+
+Cephisus, a river in Phocis, vir. 178, vir. 33 
+
+Ceramicus, a gulf in Caria, 1. 174 
+
+Cercasorus, a town in Egypt, where the Nile first divides to 
+form the Delta, τι. 15, 17, 97 
+
+Cercopes, legendary dwarfs whose name is preserved by tho 
+* seats of the Cercopes," rocks on the mountain side near 
+Thermopylae, vir. 216 
+
+Cercyra (Corcyra), subject to Corinth under Periander, 111. 48, 
+52, 53; hesitating policy of Coreyra when invited to join the 
+Greeks against Xerxes, vIr. 168 
+
+Chaldaeans, a priestly caste at Babylon, 1. 181, 182 
+
+Chalcis, in Euboea, at war with Athens, v. 74, 77, 91; station 
+of the Greek fleet, vir. 182, 189; Chalcidians in the fleet, 
+ΥΠ. 1, 46; at Plataea, 1x. 28, 31 
+
+Chalcidians of Thrace, in Xerxes’ army, ΥΠ. 185; their capture 
+of Olynthus, vii. 127 
+
+Chalestra, a town on Xerxes’ route in Maeedonia, vir. 123 
+
+Chalybes, a people of Asia Minor eonquered by Croesus, 1. 28 
+(if the mention is genuine). 
+
+Charadra, a town in Phocis, vir. 33 
+
+Charaxus, a Mytilenaean, brother of Sappho, rr. 135 
+
+Charilaus, (1) brother of Polyerates' viceroy of Samos, Maean- 
+drius, his attack on the Persians in Samos, 111. 145, 146. (2) A 
+king of Sparta, ΥἹΠ. 131 
+
+Charites, the Graces, worshipped in Greece but not in Egypt, 
+Il. 50; a hill in Libya called “the Graces’ hill," rv. 175 
+
+Charopinus, brother of Aristagoras of Miletus, v. 99 
+
+Chemmis, (1) a town of Upper Egypt, with a temple of Perseus, 
+Π. 91. (2) An island alleged to float, in the Delta, τι. 156. 
+Province of Chemmis, 11. 165, inhabited by one of the warrior 
+clans. 
+
+Cheops, king of Egypt, the first pyramid-builder (at the modern 
+Gizeh), τ. 124-127 
+
+Chephren, Cheops’ successor, also a pyramid-builder, τι. 127 
+
+Cherasmis, a Persian, father of Artayctes, ντι. 78 
+
+Chersis, a king of Cyprus, father of Onesilus, v. 104, 113 
+
+Chersonese (= peninsula), used (1) (oftenest) of the modern 
+peninsula c? Gallipoli; ruled by Miltiades the elder, rv. 137; 
+overrun by P'ersians, vr. 33; under Miltiades, the elder and the 
+younger, vi. 33—40, 103, 104; part of the Athenian empire, 
+
+
+325 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+ψι. 140; Xerxes' bridge there, vir. 33; his route through the 
+Chersonese, vir. 58; Greek forces there after Mycale, 1x. 
+114—120. (2) The Tauric Chersonese (the Crimea), 1v. 99 
+
+Chileus, à Tegean, his warning to the Spartans, 1x. 9 
+
+Chilon, (1) à Spartan, temp. Pisistratus, 1. 59; his saying about 
+Cythera, vir. 235. (2) A Spartan, son of Demarmenus and 
+father-in-law of Demaratus, vi. 65 
+
+Chios, its alliance with Miletus, r. 18; Ionian, r. 142, rr. 178; 
+its surrender of a suppliant, 1. 160; a Chian altar at Delphi, 
+II. 135; Paeonian refugees in Chios, v. 98; Chians and 
+Histiaeus, vr. 2, 5; their valour in the Ionian revolt, vi. 15, 
+16; conquered by the Persians, vi. 31; plot against the 
+despot of Chios, vir 132; Chians admitted to the Greek 
+confederacy after Mycale, rx. 106 (a few other unimportant 
+reff.) 
+
+Choaspes, a river flowing past Susa, 1. 188, v. 49, 52 
+
+Choereae, a place on the coast of Euboea near Eretria, vr. 101 
+
+Choereatae, the name given by Cleisthenes to a Sicyonian tribe, 
+v. 68 
+
+Choerus, à man of Rhegium, vir. 170 
+
+Chon (if the reading is admitted), a river in N.W. Greece, 1x. 93 
+
+Chorasmii, a tribe N.E. of the Parthians, on the Oxus, 11. 93, 
+117; in Xerxes’ army, vir. 66 
+
+Chromius, an Argive, one of three survivors of a battle between 
+Argos and Lacedaemon, I. 82 
+
+Cicones, a Thracian tribe, on Xerxes’ route, vir. 59, 108, 110 
+
+Cilicia, traversed by the Halys, 1. 72; opposite Egypt, τι. 34; 
+tribute to Persia, 111. 90; on the “‘ royal road," v. 52; Persian 
+crossing from Cilicia to Cyprus, v. 108; sailing thence of 
+Datis' expedition, vr. 95; Cilicians in Xerxes’ army, vir. 77, 91, 
+98, vi. 14; disparaged by Artemisia, viri. 68; by Mardonius, 
+viu. 100; governed by Xenagoras, ΙΧ. 107 
+
+Cilix, son of Agenor, eponymous hero of Cilicia, vrr. 91 
+
+Cilla, an Aeolian town in Asia Minor, 1. 149 
+
+Cimmerians, their invasion of Ionia, 1. 6, 15; originally in Scythia, 
+driven thence by the Scythians into Asia, rv. 11-13, vi. 20; 
+their memory preserved by place-names, Iv. 12 
+
+Cimon, (1) son of Stesagoras and father of Miltiades the younger, 
+VI. 34, 38; a victor at Olympia, vr. 103; killed by the Pisis- 
+tratids, 7b. (2) Son of Miltiades, νι. 136; his capture οἱ 
+Eion, vir. 107 
+
+Cindya, a town in Caria, v. 118 
+
+
+326 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Cineas, a Thessalian prince, ally of the Pisistratids against 
+Sparta, v. 63 
+
+Cinyps, a river in Libya, Iv. 175; attempt to make a Greck 
+settlement there, v. 42; fertility of the Cinyps valley, τν. 198 
+
+Cissians, at the head of the Persian Gulf, tributaries of Persia, 
+nr. 91; Cissian gates of Babylon, 1m. 155, 158; the country 
+on Aristagoras’ map of Asia, v. 49; on the “royal road," 
+v. 52; Cissian fighters at Thermopylae, Υπ. 210 
+
+Cithaeron, the mountain range between Attica and Boeotia, 
+vir. 141; northern foothills of Cithaeron and passes over the 
+range held by the Greeks against Mardonius, rx. 19, 25, 38, 
+51, 56, 69 
+
+Cius, (1) a town in Mysia, v. 122. (2) (Or Seius?), a tributary 
+of the Ister, Iv. 49 
+
+Clazomenae, in Lydia, an Ionian town, 1. 142, 11. 178; its resist- 
+ance to Alyattes, 1. 16; Clazomenian treasury at Delphi, 
+I. 51; taking of the town by Persians, v. 123 
+
+Cleades, a Plataean, rx. 85 
+
+Cleandrus, (1) despot of Gela in Sicily, vu. 154. (2) An 
+Arcadian seer and fomenter of civil strife in Argolis, vr. 83 
+
+Cleinias, an Athenian, son of Alcibiades, his distinction at Artemi- 
+sium, VIII. 17 
+
+Cleisthenes, (1) despot of Sicyon, son of Aristonymus, his re- 
+forms at Sicyon, v. 67, 69; competition for his daughter's 
+hand, vi. 126-31. (2) An Athenian, grandson of the above, 
+vi. 131; his reforms at Athens, v. 66, 69; his expulsion from 
+Athens and return, v. 72, 73 
+
+Cleobis, an Argive, story of his filial devotion, r. 31 
+
+Cleodaeus, son of Hyllus, an ancestor of the Spartan kings, 
+νι. 52, vir. 204, vir. 131 
+
+Cleombrotus, youngest son of Anaxandrides, king of Sparta, 
+v. 32, ντι. 205; in command of a Peloponnesian force at the 
+Isthmus, vin. 71, 1x. 10; father of Pausanias, 1X. 78 εἰ al. 
+
+Cleomenes, king of Sparta, son of Anaxandrides; his refusal to 
+accept a bribe, 11. 148 (from Maeandrius of Samos), v. 48-51 
+(from Aristagoras); his madness, v. 42, vr. 75; invasions of 
+Attica, v. 64, 70; oracles carried off by him from Athens, 
+v. 90; quarrel with Aegina, vi. 50; feud with Demaratus, 
+vi. 61-66; invasion of Argos, vi. 76-82, vir. 148; advice to 
+the Plataeans, νι. 108; his death, vi. 75 
+
+Cleonae, a town on Athos, vir. 22 
+
+Clytiadae, an Elean priestly clan, 1x. 33 (but see note ad loc.). 
+
+
+327 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Cnidus, in Caria, on the Triopian promontory, 1. 174; a Dorian 
+town, 1. 144, 1r. 178; attempted restoration by Cnidians of a 
+Tarentine exile, 111. 138 
+
+Cnoethus, an Aeginetan, vi. 88 
+
+Cnosus, in Crete, the capital city of Minos’ empire, rr. 122 
+
+Cobon, a Delphian, his corruption of the oracle in Cleomenes' 
+interest, v1. 66 
+
+Codrus, an ancient king of Athens, anoestor of the Caucones 
+(q.v.), 1. 147; of Pisistratus, v. 65; Dorian invasion of Attica 
+during his rule, v. 76; father of the founder of Miletus, 1x. 97 
+
+Coenyra, a place in Thasos, vi. 47 
+
+Coes, of Mytilene, his advice to Darius to leave Ionians guarding 
+the bridge of the Ister, rv. 97; made despot of Mytilene, v. 11; 
+his death, v. 38 
+
+Colaeus, a Samian shipmaster, rv. 152 
+
+Colaxais, the youngest of the three brothers who founded the 
+Scythian race, Iv. 5, 7 
+
+Colchis, on the Euxine, its situation, r. 104, 1v. 37, 40; Egyptian 
+origin of Colchians, 11. 104; tribute to Persia, 1. 97; in 
+Xerxes' army, vil. 79 
+
+Colias, adjective of an Attic promontory where wrecks were 
+driven ashore after Salamis, vir. 96 
+
+Colophon, an Ionian town in Lydia, r. 142; taken by Gyges, 
+I. 14; Apaturia not celebrated at Colophon, 1. 147; civil strife 
+there, 1. 150 
+
+Colossae, a town in Phrygia, on Xerxes’ route, vir. 30 
+
+Combrea, a town in Chalcidice, vir. 123 
+
+Compsantus, a river in Thrace, vir. 109 
+
+Coniaean, of Conium in Phrygia, v. 63 (but * Gonnaean " should 
+probably be read). 
+
+Contadesdus, a river in Thrace, rv. 90 
+
+Copais lake in Boeotia, vin. J35 
+
+Coresus, near Ephesus, on the coast, v. 100 
+
+Corinth, its treasury at Delphi, r. 14, 1v. 162; despotism of 
+Periander and his eruelty, r. 23, v. 92; his troubles with his 
+son, and with Corcyra, rrr. 48—54; Corinthian estimation of 
+artificers, 11. 107; story of Cypselus, v. 92; Corinthian reluct- 
+ance to invade Attica, v. 75; friendship with Athens, ντ. 89; 
+adjustment by Corinth of a quarrel between Athens and 
+Thebes, vi. 108; Corinthians at Thermopylae, Υπ. 202; in 
+the Greek fleet, vri. 1, 21, 43; in the army at the Isthmus, 
+vin. 72; dispute between "lhemistoeles and Adeimantus, 
+
+
+328 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+vill. 61; Corinthians’ alleged descrtion of the Greeks at 
+Salamis, ΥΠΙ. 94; Corinthians at Plataea, ΙΧ. 28, 31, 69; at 
+Mycale, 1x. 102, 105 
+
+Corobius, a Cretan merchant, employed by Greeks to guide 
+them to Libya, Iv. 151-153 
+
+Coronea, a town in Boeotia, v. 79 
+
+Corycian cave on Parnassus, a refuge for the Delphians, vim. 36 
+
+Corydallus, a man of Anticyra, ΥΠ. 214 
+
+Corys, a river in Arabia, 111. 9 
+
+Cos, an island off Caria, colonized by Dorians, r. 144; abdication 
+of its despot Cadmus, Υπ. 164; Coans in Xerxes’ fleet, vir. 99 
+
+Cotys, a legendary Lydian, 1v. 45 
+
+Cranai, old name for Athenians, vir. 44 
+
+Cranaspes, a Persian, 111. 126 
+
+Crannon, in Thessaly, vr. 128 
+
+Crathis, (1) a river in Achaea, 1. 145. (2) A river by Sybaris, 
+v. 45 
+
+Cremni (cliffs), name of a port in Scythia, on the “' Maeetian 
+lake," rv. 20, 110 
+
+Crestonian country, in Thrace, v. 3, 5, vir. 124, 127, vir. 116. 
+The reading Creston in 1. 57 is doubtful; Croton is suggested 
+(not the town in Magna Graecia, but Cortona in Umbria). 
+
+Crete, Cretan origin of Lycurgus' Spartan laws, r. 65; beginning 
+of Minos’ rule, 1. 173; Samian settlers in Crete, IH. 59; con- 
+nexion of Crete with the settlement of Cyrene, Iv. 151, 154, 
+161; Cretan reason for not joining the Greeks against Xerxes, 
+vir. 169-171; Lycians originally Cretan, vu. 92 
+
+Cretines, (1) à man of Magnesia in Greece, vrr. 190. (2) A man 
+of Rhegium, ΥΠ. 165 
+
+Crinippus, à man of Himera, ΥΠ. 165 
+
+Crisaean plain, in Locris, vrrr. 32 
+
+Critalla, a town on Xerxes' route in Cappadocia, ΥΠ. 26 
+
+Critobulus, (1) a man of Cyrene, 11. 181. (2) A man of Torone, 
+made governor of Olynthus by the Persians, ντ. 127 
+
+Crius, a leading Aeginetan, sent to Athens as hostage for Aeginetan 
+good faith, vi. - B0, 73; his meeting with Themistocles at 
+Salamis, vii. 99 
+
+Crobyzi, a Thracian tribe, 1v. 49 
+
+* Crocodiles’ town," near Lake Mocris in Egypt; labyrinth 
+there, 11. 148 
+
+Croesus, king of Lydia, son of Alyattes, extent of his rule, 1. 6, 
+26-28; Solons’ visit to him, 1. 28-33; story of his son Atys, 
+
+
+329 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+I. 34-45; gifts to Delphi and preparations for war with Persia, 
+I. 46-56, vir. 35; negotiations with Athens and Sparta, 1. 65, 
+69; story of the campaign, and Cyrus’ capture of Sardis, τ. 76— 
+84; Croesus' escape from death, and his treatment by Cyrus, 
+I. 85-92; advice to Cyrus as to government of Lydia, 1. 155, 
+156; as to the Massagetae, r. 207; Croesus at Cambyses' 
+court, 111. 14, 36; friendship with the elder Miltiades, ντ. 37; 
+gift of gold to Alemeon, vr. 125 (other unimportant reff.) 
+
+Crophi, one of two hills (Mophi the other) alleged to be near the 
+source of the Nile, rr. 28 
+
+Crossaean country, in Macedonia, vir. 123 
+
+Croton, in Magna Graecia; reputation of its physicians, rrr. 131; 
+story of Democedes at the Persian court and his return to 
+Croton, 11. 131-138; war between Croton and Sybaris, v. 
+44; capture of Sybaris by Crotoniats, vr. 21; help sent by 
+Croton (but by no other western colony) to Greeks against 
+Xerxes, VII. 47 
+
+Cuphagoras, an Athenian, vr. 117 
+
+Curium, in Cyprus, its desertion to the Persians in the Cyprian 
+revolt, v. 113 
+
+Cyanean (Dark) islands, in the Euxine near the Bosporus, iv. 
+
+Cyaxares, king of Media, 1. 16; Scythian offences against him, 
+I 73; his victories over Scythians and Assyrians and capture 
+of Ninus, 1. 103, 106 
+
+Cy bebe, a Phrygian goddess, her temple at Sardis burnt, v. 102 
+
+Cyberniscus, a Lycian officer in Xerxes’ army, vir. 98 
+
+Cyclades islands, none of them part of Darius’ empire before the 
+second Ionian revolt, v. 30; Aristagoras’ promise to win them 
+for him, v. 31 
+
+Cydippe, daughter of Terillus of Himera, vir. 165 
+
+Cydonia, a town in Crete founded by Samians, 111. 44, 59 
+
+Cydrara, a town on the frontier of Lydia and Phrygia, vu. 30 
+
+Cyllyrii, a slave class at Syracuse, ΥΠ. 155 
+
+Cylon, an Athenian murdered by the Alemeonidae for aiming 
+at despotic power, v. 71 
+
+Cyme, in Mysia, an Aeolian town, 1. 149; its consultation of an 
+oracle as to surrender of a refugee, 1.57; Cyme taken by the 
+Persians, v. 123; station of Xerxes’ fleet after Salamis, vu. 
+130 
+
+Cynegirus, an Athenian killed at Marathon, brother of Aeschylus, 
+vi. 114 
+
+
+339 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Cynesii, the most westerly people of Europe, rr 33 (called 
+Cynetes, 1v. 40) 
+
+Cyneus, an Eretrian, vr. 101 
+
+Cyniscus, alternative name for Zeuxidemus, son of Leutychides, 
+king of Sparta, vr. 71 
+
+Cyno, Cyrus’ Median foster-mother, 1. 110, 122 
+
+Cynosarges, a place in Attica with a shrine of Heracles, v. 63, 
+vr. 116 
+
+Cynosura, a promontory of Salamis, vin. 76 
+
+Cynurii, a Peloponnesian people alleged to be aboriginal, vri. 73 
+
+Cyprus; worship of Aphrodite, 1. 105, 199; “ Linus " song there, 
+I. 79; Cyprus subdued by Amasis, 11. 182; under Persians, 
+πι. 19, 91; Cyprian revolt and its suppression, v. 104—115, v1. 6; 
+Cyprians in Xerxes' fleet, vir. 90, 98; disparaged by Artemisia, 
+viu. 68, by Mardonius, vir. 100. ‘“‘ Cyprian poems," n. 117 
+
+Cypselus, (1) despot of Corinth, son of Eétion, 1. 14, 20; his 
+career, v. 92 (elsewhere a patronymic of Periander) (2) An 
+Athenian, father of the elder Miltiades, v1. 35 
+
+Cyrauis, an island off Libya in the Mediterranean (perhaps the 
+modern Cercina), 1v. 195 
+
+Cyrene; “lotus” grown there, n. 96; Cyrenaeans' visit to the 
+oracle of Ammon, 11. 32; Egyptian attack on Cyrene, ΙΙ. 161, 
+IV. 159; alliance with Amasis, rr. 181; tribute to Persia, ΙΙ. 
+90; early history of Cyrene and its kings, rv. 159-165; fertility 
+of Cyrenaean country, Iv. 199 
+
+Cyrmianae, a Thracian tribe, 1v. 93 
+
+Cyrnus, (1) a legendary hero, son of Heracles, 1. 167. (2) The 
+modern Corsica; colonized by Phocaeans, 1. 165, 167; attack 
+on Gelon of Sicily, vu. 165. (3) A place near Carystus in 
+Euboea, rx. 105 
+
+Cyrus, (1) king of Persia; his campaign against Lydia, capture 
+of Sardis, and clemency to Croesus, 1. 75-92; story of Cyrus, 
+his attempted murder by Astyages, adventures of his child- 
+hood and youth, and return to Astyages, 1. 107-122; revolt 
+of Persians under Cyrus against Medes, 1. 123-130; Cyrus 
+king of all Asia, 1. 130; beginning of Ionian revolt against 
+him, 1. 141; conquest of Assyria and capture of Babylon, 
+I 188-191; Cyrus’ campaign against the Massagetae and 
+death in battle, 1. 201-214; comparison of Cyrus with his 
+son Cambyses, rri. 34; Croesus charged by Cyrus to advise 
+Cambyses, rri. 36; different treatment of Babylon by Cyrus 
+and Darius, rr. 159; Cyrus’ advice to the Persians not to 
+
+
+33% 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+live in a fertile country, 1x. 122 (many other reff., mostly 
+where the name is used as a patronymic). (2) Paternal 
+grandfather of the above, 1. 111 
+
+Cytissorus, a Colchian, custom respecting his descendants at 
+Alus in Achaca, vir. 197 
+
+
+Dadicae, a people in the N.E. of the Persian empire; their 
+tribute, rr. 91; in Xerxes’ army, ΥΠ. 66 
+
+Daedalus, sought by Minos, vir. 170 
+
+Dai, a nomad Persian tribe, 1. 125 
+
+Damasithymus, (1) king of the Calyndians, in Xerxes' fleet at 
+Salamis, vi. 87. (2) A Carian officer in Xerxes’ fleet, son 
+of Candaules, ΥΠ. 98 
+
+Damasus of Siris, a suitor for Cleisthenes’ daughter, vI. 127 
+
+Damia, a deity worshipped in Aegina and Epidaurus, v. 82, 83 
+
+Danaë, mother of Perseus, daughter of Acrisius, 11. 91, vr. 50) 
+vil. 61, 150 
+
+Danaus, his legendary migration to Greece from Chemmis in 
+Egypt, rr. 91, vii. 94; his daughters, 1. 171, 182 
+
+Daphnae, near Pelusium, on the Egyptian frontier, 11. 30, 107 
+
+Daphnis, despot of Abydos, Iv. 138 
+
+Dardaneans, an Assyrian people, apparently, 1. 189 
+
+Dardanus, a town on the Hellespont, v. 117, vir. 43 
+
+Darius, (1) king of Persia, son of Hystaspes; suspected by Cyrus, 
+1. 209; story of his part in the conspiracy against the Magians, 
+and his accession io the throne, ΠΠ. 73-87; canal made by 
+him in Egypt, 11. 158, iv. 39; inquiry into varieties of custom, 
+Hr. 38; tribvte paid by his empire, ΠΙ. 89-97; called “the 
+huxter,” m. 89; severity of his rule, 111. 118, 119; punish- 
+ment of Oroctes, ΤΙ. 127, 128; Democedes at Darius’ court, 
+nr. 129-132; plans against Greece, ΤΙ. 134, 135; conquest 
+of Samos, 111. 139-149; reduction of Babylon, xm. 150—160; 
+Scythian expedition planned, rv. 1; Darius’ passage of the 
+Bosporus, march to the Ister, and invasion of Scythia, Iv. 
+83-98; Scythian campaign and return to Asia, Iv. 118-143; 
+Cyrenaean expedition, Iv. 200-204; transportation of Paeon- 
+ians to Asia, v. 12-15; Histiaeus summoned by Darius to 
+Susa, v. 24; Darius’ anger against Athens for the burning 
+of Sardis, and his dispatch of Histiaeus to Ionia, v. 105- 
+107; reception of Scythes, vr. 24; estimation of Histiaeus, 
+vr. 30; demand of earth and water from Greek states, VI. 
+48, 49; Demaratus at Darius’ court, vr. 70; reasons for 
+
+
+94 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+attack on Greece, vi. 94; meaning of the name Darius, vi. 
+98; Darius’ clemency to the Eretrians, vr. 119; his prepara- 
+tions for a Greek campaign, ΥΠ. 1; appointment of a suc- 
+cessor, vil. 2, 3; his death, Υπ. 4; Darius’ treatment of an 
+unjust judge, ΥΠ. 194. Gold coins called “ Daric,” vir. 28; 
+(other reff. of little importance). (2) Xerxes’ son, 1x. 108 
+
+Daritae, a tribe in the Persian empire, rr. 92 
+
+Dascyleum, in Mysia, on the Propontis, the seat of a Persian 
+governor, ΙΠ. 120, 126, vr. 33 
+
+Dascylus, a Lydian, father of Gyges, I. 8 
+
+Datis, a Mede, in command with Artaphrenes of the expedition 
+of 490 against Athens, vi. 94, 97, 118; his sons in Xerxes’ 
+army, VII. 88 
+
+Datum, in Paeonia, battle there between Athenians and Edonians, 
+IX. 15 
+
+Daulians, in Phocis, ΥΠΙ. 35 
+
+Daurises, a general employed by Darius against the insurgent 
+Ionians, v. 116-118, 121 
+
+Decelea, a deme of Attica, ΙΧ. 15; its privileges at Sparta, ΙΧ. 73 
+
+Decelus, eponymous hero of Decelea, ΙΧ. Τὸ 
+
+Deioces, first king of Media, his rise to power, building of a 
+palace at Agbatana, and conquest of Persia, 1. 96-99, 101- 
+103 
+
+Deiphonus, a seer, from Apollonia in N.W. Greece, 1x. 92, 95 
+
+Delium, in Boeotia, v1. 118 
+
+Delos, its purification by Pisistratus, τ. 64; lake in Delos, rr. 
+170; visit of the Hyperborean virgins, 1v. 33-35; sanctity 
+of Delos respected by Persians, vr. 97, 118; station of Greek 
+fleet before Mycale, ΥἹΠ. 133, rx. 90, 96 
+
+Delphi, its oracles, 1. 13, 19, 47, 55, 65-67, 85, 167, 174, xr. 134, 
+πι 57, Iv. 15, 150, 155, 161, v. 67, 82, 89, 02, vr. 19, 34, 52, 
+77, 86, 135, 139, νπ. 140, 148, 178, 220, vrir. 114, ΙΧ. 33, 93; 
+its treasures, I. 14, 25, 50-55, 92, vir. 27, 35, 82, 121, Ix. 81; 
+repulse of the Persian attack on Delphi, vir. 36-39; corrup- 
+tion of the oracle, vr. 66 
+
+Delta of Egypt, π. 13, 15-18, 41, 59, 97, 179 
+
+Demaratus, king of Sparta, his feud with Cleomenes, v. 75, 
+vi. 51; story of his birth and loss of his kingship, v1. 61-66; 
+his flight to Persia, vr. 67-70; support of Xerxes’ accession, 
+ΥΠ. 3; warnings to Xerxes as to Greek resistance, vu. 101- 
+104, 209; advice to Xerxes on his strategy, virt. 234-237; 
+information to Greeks of Xerxes' planned campaign, vir. 239 
+
+
+333 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Demarmenus, a Spartan, v. 41, vr. 65 
+
+Demeter, worshipped at Eleusis in Attica, vr. 75, vim. 65; other 
+places of her cult, rr. 171, rv. 53, v. 61, vr. 91, 134, vir. 200, 
+IX. 57, 63, 65, 69, 101; identified with the Egyptian Isis, rr. 
+122, 156 
+
+Democedes, of Croton, a physician, brought to Darius from 
+Samos, ΙΙ. 125, 131; his reputation, rr. 132; devices for 
+return to Croton, nr. 134—137 
+
+Democritus, of Naxos; his transference of Naxian ships from 
+Persian to Greek fleet, vir. 46 
+
+Demonax, of Mantinea, his settlement of troubles at Cyrene, 
+IV. 161 
+
+Demonous, of Paphos, ΥΠ. 195 
+
+Demophilus, commanding Thespian force at Thermopylae, ΥΠ. 
+222 
+
+Dersaei, a Thracian tribe on Xerxes’ route, vir. 110 
+
+Derusiaei, a tribe in Persia, 1. 125 
+
+Deucalion, legendary king of the Hellenes in Phthiotis, 1. 56 
+
+Diaetorides, (1) à man of Crannon, a suitor for Cleisthenes’ 
+daughter, vi. 127. (2) A Spartan, father-in-law of Leuty- 
+chides, vi. 71 
+
+Diadromes, a Thespian, vir. 222 
+
+Dicaea, a Greek town on Xerxes’ route in Thrace, vu. 109 
+
+Dicaeus, an Athenian; his vision in Attica before Salamis, vii. 
+65 
+
+
+Dictyna, a Cretan goddess, 111. 59 (if the text is genuine). 
+
+Didyma, a Milesian temple, apparently identical with Branchidae, 
+vi. 19 
+
+Dieneces, a Spartan, his saying about Persian arrows at Thermo- 
+pylae, vir. 226 
+
+Dindymene, à name for the goddess Cybele; her sacred hill in 
+Lydia, 1. 80 
+
+Dinomenes, father of Gelon of Sicily, vir. 145 
+
+Diomedes, a Greek hero of the Trojan war, 11. 116 
+
+Dionysius, à Phocaean, his attempt to train the Jonian fleet, 
+Viste 10 
+
+Dionysophanes, an Ephesian, said to have buried Mardonius’ 
+body, 1x. 84 
+
+Dionysus, 11. 111; his cult in Greece, rr. 49, 52, 145; in par- 
+ticular localities and under various names, I. 150, 11. 29, τῃ. 
+8, 97, 1v. 79, 87, 108, v. 7, 67, vn. 111; identified with the 
+Egyptian Osiris, 11. 42, 47, 123, 144, 156 
+
+
+334 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Dioscuri, their worship unknown in Egypt, 1. 43, 50; enter- 
+tained by Euphorion, an Arcadian, vr. 127 
+
+Dipaea, in Arcadia, scene of a battle about 470 B.c. between 
+Spartans and Arcadians, 1x. 35 
+
+Dium, a town on Athos, vir. 22 
+
+Doberes, a Paeonian tribe, v. 16 (if the reading be right), vit. 
+113 
+
+Dodona, an oracle in N.W. Greece, consulted, 1. 46, rr. 52, ΙΧ. 
+93; story suggesting a connexion between Egypt and Dodona, 
+n. 53—57; Hyperborean offerings at Dodona, Iv. 33 
+
+Dolonci, a Thracian tribe, vr. 34, 40 
+
+Dolopes, a Thessalian people, in Xerxes’ army, vir. 132, 185 
+
+Dorians, τ. 57; Dorians of Epidaurus, 1. 146; Dorian alphabet, 
+I. 139; four Dorian invasions of Attica, v. 76; their women’s 
+dress, v. 87; names of tribes, v. 68; Dorian leaders of Egyptian 
+origin, vi. 53; Dorians in Peloponnese, vur. 73; Doris in 
+N. Greece, 1x. 31, 66; Asiatic Dorians, 1. 6, 144, 178, vir. 
+93, 99 
+
+Doriscus, on the Thracian coast, v. 98; an important halting 
+place on Xerxes’ route, vir. 25, 59, 108, 121; its defence by 
+its Persian governor, vit. 106 
+
+Dorus, son of Hellen, eponymous ancestor of Dorians, I. 56 
+
+Doryssus, a king of Sparta, ΥΠ. 204 
+
+Dotus, a Persian officer in Xerxes’ army, VII. 72 
+
+Dropici, a Persian tribe, 1. 125 
+
+Drymus, a town in Phocis, ΥΠΙ. 33 
+
+Dryopes, an ancient race in N. Greece, 1. 146, vir. 43, 46; their 
+settlements in the Peloponnese, vir. 73 
+
+Dryoscephalae, name of a pass in the Cithaeron range, Ix. 39 
+
+Dymanatae, a Dorian tribe at Sicyon, v. 68 
+
+Dyme, a town in Achaea, 1. 145 
+
+Dyras, a stream west of Thermopylae, vir. 198 
+
+Dysorum, a mountain range on the N.E. frontier of Macedonia, 
+v.17 
+
+
+Echecrates, a Corinthian, father of Eétion, v. 92 
+Echemus, king of Tegea, his victory over Hyllus, rx. 26 
+Echestratus, a king of Sparta, vir. 204 
+Echidorus, a river in Thrace, vir. 124, 127 
+Echinades islands, off the mouth of the Achelous, τι. 10 
+Edoni, à Thracian tribe, on the Strymon, v. 124, vir. 110, 114, 
+IX. 75 
+$ 
+
+
+i 335 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Eéropus, a king of Tegea, 1x. 26 
+
+Eétion, a Corinthian, father of Cypselus, v. 92 
+
+Egesta, a town in Sicily, allied with Phoenicians against Greeks, 
+v. 46, vir. 158 
+
+Egis, a Spartan king, ΥΠ. 204 
+
+Egypt, its extent, 11. 5-19; course of the Nile, τι. 19-34; 
+Egyptian custom and religion, 1. 140, 182, 193, 198, τι. 4, 35- 
+98, Iv. 168, 180, 186; kings of Egypt, rr. 99-182; eschatology, 
+π. 123; chronology, 1. 142-146; the pyramids, rr. 124-128; 
+Egyptian origin of Dorian heroes, vr. 53-55; Solon in Egypt, 
+I. 30; Scythian invasion, 1. 105; alliance with Croesus, 1. 77; 
+Cambyses’ invasion, 111. 1-16; his sacrilege, 111. 27, 28; Egypt 
+a Persian province, ΠΠ. 91; Athenian campaign in Egypt, 
+111. 160; Darius’ canal from the Nile, rv. 39; cireumnavigation 
+of Africa from Egypt, 1v. 42, 43; Egypt and Cyrene, tv. 159; 
+revolt of Egypt against Persia, vir. 1, 7; Egyptian bridge 
+over the Hellespont, ΥΠ. 34; Egyptian marines in Persian 
+fleet, vir. 89, virt. 68, 100, 1x. 32; their exploits at Artemisium, 
+vill. 17 
+
+Eion, a town on the Strymon, vir. 25; its defence, and capture 
+by the Greeks, ΥΠ. 107, 113; Xerxes said to have embarked 
+there for Asia, vi. 118 
+
+Elaeus, a town in the Thracian Chersonese, vr. 140, vir. 22; 
+profanation of its shrine of Protesilaus, ΥΠ. 33, 1x. 116, 120 
+
+Elatea, a town in Phocis, vu. 33 
+
+Elbo, an island in the Delta, the refuge of the deposed king 
+Anysis, 11. 140 
+
+Eleon, a town in Boeotia, v. 43 
+
+Elephantine, on the Nile opposite Assuan, 11. 9; the southern limit 
+of Egypt, 1. 17; close to the source of the Nile, τι. 28; a 
+Persian frontier guard there, 11. 30; stone-quarries of Ele- 
+phantine, ΙΙ. 175; tribe of “ Fish-eaters ” there, 11. 19 
+
+Eleusis, in Attica, scene of a battle, 1. 30; the first objective of 
+Cleomenes’ invasion, v. 74, vr. 75; mysteries of Demeter- 
+worship there and the vision of Dicaeus, vir. 65; Greek 
+forces there before Plataea, 1x. 19; burning of the temple 
+of Demeter by Persians, ΙΧ. 65 
+
+Elis; Klean management of Olympic games, rr. 160; no mules 
+in Elis, τν. 30; destruction of neighbouring towns, Iv. 148; 
+Elis the only Aetolian part of Peloponnese, vir. 73; Eleans 
+in the Greek force on the Isthmus, vi. 72; too late at Plataea, 
+Ix. G7 
+
+
+336 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Elisyci, probably Ligurians; Gelon of Sicily attacked by them 
+and others, vit. 165 
+
+Ellopian district of Euboea, vir. 23 
+
+Elorus, a river in Sicily, Syracusans defeated on it by Corinthians, 
+ΥΠ. 154 
+
+Enarees, Scythians suffering from the so-called “ female disease,” 
+I. 105, ιν. 67 
+
+Enchelees, an Illyrian tribe, claiming descent from Cadmus, 
+v. 61; their incursion into Greece, 1x. 43 
+
+Eneti, a people at the head of the Adriatic, 1. 196, v. 9 
+
+Enienes, a people living at the headwaters of the Spercheus, 
+vir. 132, 185, 198 
+
+Enipeus, a river in Thessaly, vir. 129 
+
+Enneaerunus, ^ Nine Springs" fountain outside Athens, v1. 
+137 
+
+Ennea Hodoi, “ Nine Ways," a town on the Strymon, vir. 114 
+
+Fordi, a people living between the Strymon and the Axius, vir. 
+185 
+
+Epaphus, Greek name for the Egyptian Apis, q.v. 
+
+Ephesus, in Lydia, of Ionian origin, 1. 142; Croesus’ offerings 
+in the temple of Artemis there, 1. 92; one of the most remark- 
+able temples known to Herodotus, r. 148; Ephesus besieged 
+by Croesus, 1. 126; Ionians defeated there by Persians, v. 
+102; terminus of “ royal road," v. 54; Xerxes’ sons sent 
+there after Salamis, vir. 103 
+
+Epialtes of Malis, his guidance of the Persians over the pass at 
+Thermopylae, vir. 213—218 
+
+Epicydes, α Spartan, father of Glaucus, vr. 86 
+
+Epidanus, see Apidanus. 
+
+Epidaurus, in Argolis; Dorian, 1. 146; taken by Periander, 
+1. 52; quarrel with Athens, v. 82; its colonies, vir. 99; 
+Epidaurians in the Greek forces against Xerxes and Mardonius, 
+ΝΠ, l, 43, 12, Ix. 28, 31 
+
+Epigoni, a poem attributed by some to Homer, reference therein 
+to Hyperboreans, 1v. 32 
+
+Epistrophus, a man of Epidamnus, v1. 127 
+
+Epium, a town in the western Peloponnese, founded by the 
+Minyae, 1v. 148 
+
+Epizelus, an Athenian combatant at Marathon, vi. 117 
+
+Enizephyrian Locrians, Locrian colonists in Sicily, vr. 23 
+
+Erasinus, a river in Argolis alleged to be partly subtcrranean, 
+τι. 76 
+
+
+337 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Erechtheus, a legendary Attic hero; sacrifice offered to him by 
+Epidaurians in return for Attic olive trees, v. 82; father of 
+Orithyia, ντι. 189; name of Athenians first used in his time, 
+vii. 44; his shrine on the Acropolis, vim. 55 
+
+Eretria, in Euboea, Pisistratus in exile there, r. 61; native 
+place of Gephyraei, v. 57; objective of Mardonius' campaign 
+under Darius, vi. 43; of Datis, vi. 94, 98; subdued by 
+Persians, vr. 100-102; Eretrian captives in Persia, vi. 119; 
+contingent in Greek fleet, vir. 1, 46; at Plataea, ΙΧ. 28, 31 
+
+Eridanus, a river in Europe, its existence doubted by Herodotus, 
+πι. 115 
+
+Erineus, a place in Doris, ΥἹΠ. 43 
+
+Erinyes, avenging deities (of Laius and Oedipus), rv. 149 
+
+Erochus, a town in Phocis, burnt by the Persians, vir. 33 
+
+Erxandrus, à Mytilenaean, tv. 97, v. 37 
+
+Erythea, an island alleged to be outside the Pillars of Heracles, 
+IV. 8 
+
+Erythrae, (1) a town in Boeotia, near Plataea, 1x. 15, 19, 22. 
+(2) An Ionian town in Asia Minor, 1. 18, 142, vi. 8 
+
+Erythre bolos, “ Red Earth," a town in Egypt, 11. 111 
+
+Erythre thalassa, the Persian Gulf and the nearer part of the 
+Indian Ocean ; Phoenicians coming from it, 1. 1, ΥΠ. 89; mouth 
+of the Euphrates and the Tigris in the Red Sea, r. 180, 189; 
+united with the Mediterranean, r. 203; Arabian mountains in 
+the direction of the Red Sea, rr. 8; our “ Red Sea” (᾿Αράβιος 
+κόλπος) an offshoot from it, rr. 11; identical with the “Southern 
+Sea," 11. 158; captives settled by Persians in islands of the 
+Red Sea, mr. 93, vit. 80; Persia extends to its shores, Iv. 37; 
+Phoenician circumnavigation of Africa starting from the Red 
+Sea, rV. 42; Ampe on the Red Sea, vi. 20 
+
+Eryx, in western Sicily, v. 43, 45 
+
+Eryxo, wife of the second Arcesilaus of Cyrene, 1v. 160 
+
+Etearchus, (1) king of the Ammonians; visit of Cyrenaeans to 
+him, n. 32. (2) King of Oaxus in Crete, 1v. 154 
+
+Eteocles, son of Oedipus, v. 61 
+
+Ethiopians, of Meroé, rr. 20; Ethiopian kings of Egypt, τι. 100, 
+137-140; cireumcision in Ethiopia, rr. 104; Cambyses' mission 
+to the “long-lived ” Ethiopians, 11. 17-26, 97; Ethiopia in 
+relation to Egypt, rr. 11, 28, 30, 110, 139, 146, 161; “ Trog- 
+lodyte? Ethiopians, rv. 183; “' Ethiopians” of Asia, their 
+tribute to Persia, m1. 94; in Xerxes’ army, vir. 70; Ethiopians 
+in Cyprus, vir. 90 
+
+
+338 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Evaenetus, commander of a Lacedaemonian force in ‘Thessaly 
+before Thermopylae, vir. 173 
+
+Evagoras, a Spartan, winner of three chariot-races at Olympia, 
+νι. 103 
+
+Evaleides, an Eretrian leader killed in the second [Ionian revolt, 
+v. 102 
+
+Euboea, desirable object for Persian attack, v. 31; Chalcidians 
+in Euboea defeated by Athenians, v. 77; Persians under Datis 
+there, vr. 100; Athenian ships off Euboea, vir. 189; naval 
+operations in Euboean waters, vir. 4-20;  Euboic coinage, 
+1. $9, 95; Euboeans in Sicily, their treatment by Gelon, 
+ΥΠ. 156 
+
+Euclides, son of Hippocrates, despot of Gela, vir. 155 
+
+Evelthon, king of Salamis in Cyprus, 1v. 162- v. 104 
+
+Evenius, à man of Apollonia, 1x. 92 
+
+Euhesperides, a Libyan town near Barca, Iv. 171, 204; fertility 
+of its land, 1v. 198 
+
+Eumenes, an Athenian, distinguished in the battle of Salamis, 
+Vill. 93 
+
+Eunomus, a king of Sparta, vir. 131 
+
+Eupalinus, a Megarian, builder of the Samian aqueduct, 111. 60 
+
+Euphemides, the family designation of the first Battus of Cyrene, 
+ιν. 150. (Al. Euthymides.) 
+
+Euphorbus, an Eretrian, his betrayal of Eretria to Datis, vr. 101 
+
+Euphorion, (1) an Athenian, father of Aeschylus and Cynegirus, 
+II. 156, vr. 114. (2) An Azanian, vi. 127 
+
+Euphrates, its source in Armenia, I. 180; course altered by 
+Nitocris, queen of Babylon, 1. 185; made fordable by Cyrus, 
+1. 191; passage of the river on the “royal road," v. 52 
+
+Euripus, channel between Boeotia and Euboea, part played by 
+it in naval operations before Salamis, ΥΠ. 173, 182, vit. 7, 15, 
+66 
+
+Europe, tripartite division of the world, Europe, Asia, Libya, 
+H. 16, τν. 36; speculations on the sun's passage over Europe, 
+11. 26; Europe bisected by the Ister, 11. 33, rv. 49; general 
+ignorance of the farthest regions of Europe, mi. 115, Iv. 45; 
+absurdity of supposing the three continents equal in size, 
+IV. 96; Cynetes on the western limit of Europe, 1v. 49; Europe 
+and Asia both more fertile than Libya, τν. 198; desirability 
+of Europe to Persians, vir. 5; Xerxes’ aim of subduing all 
+Europe, vir. 50; region of Europe infested by lions, vir. 126; 
+European part of Xerxes’ army, vir. 185; Megara the western 
+
+
+339 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+limit of Persian advance in Europe, ΙΧ. 14 (many other 
+unimportant reff.) 
+
+Europa, daughter of Agenor of Tyre; carried off by Cretans, 
+1. 2; her sons Minos and Sarpedon, 1. 173; alleged origin of 
+the name of the continent, 1v. 45; search made for her by 
+Cadmus, Iv. 147 
+
+Europus, a town perhaps in Caria, VIII. 133 
+
+Euryanax, a Spartan, joint commander with Pausanias at 
+Piataea, 1x. 10, 53, 55 
+
+Eurybates, an Argive commander killed in battle with the 
+Athenians, vi. 92, 1x. 75 
+
+Eurybiades, Spartan admiral of the fleet at Artemisium and 
+Salamis, vu. 2, 42, 49; part played by him in the councils of 
+war before Salamis, virt. 57—64; deeision not to pursue Xerxes, 
+vil. 108; prize for chief merit awarded him by Greeks, 
+vii. 124 
+
+Euryclides, a Spartan, father of Eurybiades, vin. 2 
+
+Eurycrates, a king of Sparta, ΥΠ. 204 
+
+Eurycratides, a king of Sparta, vir. 204 
+
+Eurydame, second wife of Leutychides, king of Sparta, v1. 71 
+
+Eurydemus, a Malian, vir. 213 
+
+Euryleon, a Spartan colonist in Sicily, v. 46 
+
+Eurymachus, (1) a Theban, vir 205. (2) Grandson of the 
+above, killed in a Theban attack on Plataea, vir. 233 
+
+Eurypon, a king of Sparta, vir. 131 
+
+Eurypylus, an Aleucid, of Larissa in Thessaly, 1x. 53 
+
+Eurysthenes, king of Sparta, founder of the senior of the two 
+royal families, 1v. 147, v. 39, νι. 51, vir. 204 
+
+Eurystheus, legendary king of Mycenae, 1x. 26 
+
+Eurytus, a Spartan, his determination to fight at 'l'hermopylae, 
+VII. 229 
+
+Euthoenus, an Athenian, ΙΧ. 105 
+
+Eutyehides, an Athenian, 1x. 73 
+
+Euxine Sea, 1. 6; part of Media nearest to it, 1. 110; Sinope on 
+the Euxine, Π. 34; provinees of the Persian empire on its 
+coast, 111. 93; character of inhabitants of its northern shores, 
+IV. 46; its length and breadth, rv. 85, 86; islands in it, Iv. 
+89; Tauric peninsula, rv. 99; relation of Euxine to Xerxes’ 
+bridge over the Hellespont, vu. 36; corn-ships from the 
+Euxine, ΥΠ. 147 
+
+Exampaeus, a stream and district in Scythia between the Borys- 
+thenes and the Hypanis, Iv. 52, 81 
+
+
+340 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Gadira, a town “outside the Pillars of Heracles,” identified 
+with Cadiz, 1v. 8 
+
+Gaeson, a stream near Mycale in Asia Minor, 1x. 97 
+
+Galepsus, a town on the promontory of Sithonia, in Chalcidice, 
+vir. 122 
+
+Gallaie country (or Briantic), in Thrace, on Xerxes’ route, 
+vi. 108 
+
+Gandarii, an Indian tribe in the Persian Empire, their tribute, 
+mt. 91; in Xerxes’ army, vir. 66 
+
+Garamantes, a Libyan tribe on the route from Egypt to the 
+Atlas, 1v. 174, 183 
+
+Gargaphian spring, on the battlefield of Plataea, rx. 25, 49, 51 
+
+Gauanes, one of three brothers, ancestors of the Temenid dynasty 
+in Macedonia, their adventures, vin. 137 
+
+Ge (Earth), worshipped in Seythia as Apia, 1v. 59 
+
+Gebeleizis, a Thracian deity, otherwise called Zalmoxis, Iv. 94 
+
+Gela, in Sicily, a Rhodian colony, vu. 153; Hippocrates its 
+despot, vr. 23, ντι. 154; usurpation of Gelon, vir. 155 
+
+Geleon, eponymous hero of one of the four ancient Athenian 
+tribes, v. 66 
+
+Gelon, despot of Syracuse, his rise to power, ΥΠ. 154-156; reply 
+to Greek request for help against Persia, vir. 145, 157—163; 
+victory over Carthaginians and nations of the western Mediter- 
+ranean (said to be contemporary with the battle of Salamis), 
+vir. 165, 166 
+
+Geloni, neighbours of the Scythians, said to be of Greek origin, 
+Iv. 108; their part in the campaign against Darius, 1Υ. 102, 
+119, 136 
+
+Gelonus, (1) son of Heraeles, by Seythian legend, 1v. 10. (2) The 
+chief town of the Budini (neighbours of the Geloni), built of 
+wood, Iv. 108 
+
+Gephyraei, the elan to whieh Hipparchus’ murderers belonged, 
+their alleged Phoenieian origin, v. 55, 57, 6l 
+
+Geraestus, a town at the southern extremity of Euboea, vu. 7, 
+IX. 105 
+
+Gergis, a Persian general in Xerxes’ army, ΥΠ. 82 
+
+Gergithes, a people of Mysia, near the Hellespont, descendants 
+of the Teucri, v. 122, vir. 43 
+
+Germanii, a Persian tribe, 1. 125° 
+
+Gerrhus, a river and eountry in Seythia, 1v. 19, 47, 53, 56; burial 
+of Seythian kings among the Gerrhi, rv. Τί 
+
+Geryones, his oxen driven off by Heracles, Iv. 8 
+
+
+341 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Getae, a Thracian tribe said to believe in immortality, 1v. 93, 
+118, v.3 
+
+Gigonus, a town in Chalcidice, ΥΠ. 123 
+
+Giligamae, a Libyan tribe inland of Cyrene, rv. 169 
+
+Gillus, a Tarentine refugee in Persia, 111. 138 
+
+Gindanes, a Libyan tribe, 1v. 176 
+
+Glaucon, an Athenian, Ix. 75 
+
+Glaucus, (1) son of Hippolochus, ancestor of a Lycian dynasty, 
+1.47. (2) Son of Epicydes, a Spartan; story of his attempted 
+fraud told by Leutychides at Athens, vi. 86. (3) A Chian 
+worker in metals, 1. 25 
+
+Glisas, a town in Boeotia near Tanagra, 1x. 43 
+
+Gnurus, a Scythian, father of Anacharsis, Iv. 76 
+
+Gobryas, (1) son of Darius, an officer in Xerxes’ army, ΥΠ. 72. 
+(2) One of the seven conspirators against the Magians, ΤΠ. 
+70-79; his advice to Darius in Scythia, rv. 132, 134; father 
+of Mardonius, vi. 43; his daughter married to Darius, vir. 2 
+(elsewhere as a patronymic). 
+
+Goetosyrus, a Scythian deity identified with Apollo, rv. 59 
+
+Gonnus, a town in Thessaly, ΥΠ. 128, 173 
+
+Gordias, (1) father of Midas, vir. 138. (2) King of Phrygia, 
+son of Midas; father of Adrastus, 1. 35, 45 
+
+Gorgo, daughter of Cleomenes, king of Sparta, v. 48; her advice 
+to Cleomenes, v. 51; her interpretation of a message, vir. 239 
+
+Gorgon's head, brought from Libya by Perseus, 11. 91 
+
+Gorgus, king of Salamis in Cyprus, v. 104, 115, vi. 11; in 
+Xerxes fleet, vir. 98 
+
+Grinnus, king of Thera, his consultation of the Delphic oracle 
+about a colony in Libya, 1v. 150 
+
+Grynea, an Aeolian town in Asia Minor, r. 149 
+
+Gygaea, daughter of Amyntas of Macedonia, married to Bubares, 
+a Persian, v. 21, vix. 136 
+
+Gygaean lake, in Lydia, 1. 93 
+
+Gyges, (1) king of Lydia ; his accession after murdering Candaules, 
+I 8-13; his gifts to Delphi, r. 14. (2) A Lydian, in. 122, 
+v. 121 
+
+Gyndes, a river in Assyria diverted by Cyrus from its course, 
+I. 189, 202 
+
+Gyzantes, a tribe in the western part of Libya, 1v. 194 
+
+
+Haemus, a mountain range in Thrace (the Balkans), rivers 
+flowing from it into the Danube, Iv. 49 
+
+
+342 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Haliacmon, a Macedonian river (mod. Vistritza), vir. 127 
+
+Halia, a town in Argolis, vir. 137 
+
+Halicarnassus, in Caria, Herodotus’ birthplace, 1. 144, 175, 
+Π. 178, vir. 99 
+
+Halys, a river in Asia Minor, the eastern boundary of Croesus' 
+empire, 1. 6, 28, 72, 103, 120; crossed by Croesus, r 75; its 
+passage a part of the “ royal road," v. 52; crossed by Xerxes, 
+vir. 26 
+
+Harmamithres, a Median officer in Xerxes’ army, son of Datis, 
+vir. 88 ; 
+
+Harmatides, a Thespian, vir. 227 
+
+Harmocydes, commander of Phocians in Mardonius’ army at 
+Plataea, 1x. 17 
+
+Harmodius, an Athenian, one of the murderers of Hipparchus, 
+v. 55, vr. 109, 123 
+
+Harpagus, (1) a Mede, in Cyrus’ expedition against Croesus, 
+1. 80; charged by Astyages to make away with Cyrus, 1. 108- 
+113; Astyages punishment of Harpagus, 1. 117-120; Har- 
+pagus' services in placing Cyrus on the throne, 1. 123, 127, 129; 
+in subduing the Ionians, 1. 164-177. (2) A Persian officer 
+under Darius, vi. 28, 30 
+
+Hebe, the name used as à watchword or battle-cry, rx. 98 
+
+Hebrus, a river in Thrace, rv. 90; Doriscus on it, vir. 59 
+
+Hecataeus of Miletus, the historian, his chronology, 1. 143; 
+his advice to Ionian rebels, v. 36, 125; his story of Athenian 
+dealings with Pelasgians, v1. 137 
+
+Hector, son of Priam, probability of his surrendering Helen had 
+she been in Troy, rr. 120 
+
+Hegesandrus, of Miletus, father of Hecataeus, v. 125 
+
+Hegesicles, a king of Sparta, colleague of Leon, 1. 65 
+
+Hegesilaus, (1) king of Sparta, son of Doryssus, vir. 204. (2) A 
+Spartan, ancestor of Leutychides, king of Sparta, vim. 131; 
+son of Hippocratides. 
+
+Hegesipyle, daughter of Olorus of Thrace, wife of Miltiades the 
+younger, VI. 39 
+
+Hegesistratus, (1) an Elean seer in Mardonius’ army; story of 
+his escape from death, rx. 37. (2) An emissary from Samos 
+to the Greeks before Mycale, rx. 90. (3) Despot of Sigeum, 
+bastard son of Pisistratus, v. 94 
+
+Hegetorides, of Cos; his daughter rescued after being carried off 
+by Persians, 1x. 76 
+
+Hegias, an Klean, brother of the seer Tisamenus, ΙΧ. 33 
+
+
+343 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Helen, her abduction from Sparta, 1. 3; account of her voyage 
+to Egypt, τι. 112-120; brought to Attica by Theseus, ΙΧ. 73; 
+her temple at Therapne in Laconia, vIr. 61 
+
+Helice, an Achaean town on the Gulf of Corinth, 1. 145 
+
+Heliconius, the title of Poseidon at his temple in the Panionium 
+near Mycale, 1. 148 
+
+Heliopolis, in Egypt, sources of Egyptian history there, ir. 3; 
+distances of various places from Heliopolis, 11. 7-9; ceremonial 
+there, ΙΙ. 59, 63 
+
+Hellas and Hellenes, passim in all Books. The following are 
+among the principal reff. to what is distinctively Greek: 
+language, 1. 110, τι. 30, 56, 59, 112, 137, 154, 111. 26, Iv. 52, 
+110, 155, 192, νι. 98, vir. 135; dress, rv. 78, v. 88; horses, 
+vir. 196; armour, ΙΙ. 41, rv. 180, ντι. 91, 93; religious gatherings, 
+II. 58 
+
+Helle, daughter of Athamas, her tomb in the Thracian Chersonese, 
+vir. 58 
+
+Hellen, an eponymous Greek hero, father of Dorus, 1. 56 
+
+Hellespont, its length and breadth, rv. 85; despots of places 
+by it with Darius’ Scythian expedition, tv. 137; Darius’ 
+passage of it in his return, v. 11; Hellespontian towns sub- 
+dued by Ionian rebels, v. 103; reconquered by Darius, v. 107, 
+vi. 33; Hellespont scourged by Xerxes for the destruction of 
+his bridge, vir. 35; bridged again, vir. 36; Xerxes’ passage, 
+ΥΠ. 55; Hellespontians in his fleet, ΥΠ. 95; Persian governors 
+of towns there, vir. 106; Greek decision not to sail to the 
+Hellespont after Salamis, vir. 108; bridges there found 
+broken, rx. 114 (many other unimportant reff.) 
+
+Hephaestiae, a town in Lemnos, vi. 140 
+
+Hephaestopolis, a Samian, rr. 134 
+
+Hephaestus, his cult in Greece (the torch-race), vir. 98; temple 
+of “ Hephaestus” (Ptah) at Memphis, τι. 3, 99, 101 and else- 
+where in Bk. 11. 
+
+Helots, the serf class in Laconia, vi. 58, 75, 80, ντ. 229, vin. 25, 
+IX. 80, 85; a part of the Spartan army, 1x. 10, 28 
+
+Heraclea, proposed foundation of in Sicily, v. 43 
+
+Heracles, in Greek legend son of Amphitryon and father of 
+Hyllus, τι. 43-45, 145, v. 43, vr. 53, vir. 193, 204, vir. 43; 
+Greek cult, vir. 176, v. 63, vr. 108, 116; cults of deities iden- 
+tified with Heracles in Egypt and elsewhere, τ. 7, τι. 42, 44, 
+83, 113, 144, τν, 8, 10, 59, 82; Herodotus’ conclusion as to 
+a "double Heracles,” ir 44; Pillars of Heracles (Straits of 
+
+
+344 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Gibraltar) farthest western waters known to Herodotus, rr. 
+33, Iv. 8, 42, 152, 181, 185, 196, vin. 132 
+
+Heraclidae, ancestors of Spartan kings, v. 43, vir. 208, vur. 114, 
+IX. 26, 33. Heraclid dynasty in Lydia, 1. 7, 13, 91 
+
+Heraclides, (1) à man of Cyme, r. 158, v. 37. (2) A man of 
+Mylasa, a Carian leader, v. 121 
+
+Heraeum, a town near Perinthus, rv. 90 
+
+Here, her temple at Samos, 1. 70, rr. 182, 11. 123, rv. 88, 152, 
+IX. 96; at Argos, 1. 31, v1. 81, at Corinth, v. 92, at Naucratis, 
+u. 178, at Plataea, 1x. 52, 61, 69 
+
+Hermes, his cult in Greece, rr. 51, 145; identified with the 
+Egyptian Thoth, at Bubastis, r1. 138; with a Thracian deity, v. 7 
+
+Hermion or Hermione, in S.E. Argolis, 11. 59; of Dryopian 
+origin, VIII. 43, 73; its contingent at Plataea, 1x. 28, 31 
+
+Hermippus of Atarneus, an emissary from Histiaeus, v1. 4 
+
+Hermolycus, an Athenian, distinguished in the battle of Mycale, 
+IX. 105 
+
+Hermophantus, a Milesian leader in the Ionian revolt, v. 99 
+
+Hermopolis, in Upper Egypt, place of burial for ibises, 1. 67 
+
+Hermotimus of Pedasa, story of his sufferings and revenge, VIII. 
+104—106 
+
+Hermotybies, one of the Egyptian warrior-tribes, rr. 164, 168, 
+IX. 32 
+
+Hermus, a river in Lydia, passing near Sardis, 1. 55, 80, v. 101 
+
+Herodotus, (1) of Halicarnassus, the historian, 1. l. (2) An 
+Ionian envoy, son of Basileides, vim. 132 
+
+Herophantus, one of the Hellespontian despots in Darius’ 
+Scythian expedition, Iv. 138 
+
+Herpys, a man of Thebes in Boeotia, 1x. 38 
+
+Hesiod, his date, τι. 53; his reference to Hyperboreans, Iv. 32. 
+
+Hieron, brother of Gelon of Sicily, vrr. 156 
+
+Hieronymus, of Andros, an Olympian prize-winner, 1x. 33 
+
+Himera, a town in Sicily, vr. 24; its despot expelled, vir. 165 
+
+Hipparchus, son of Pisistratus, his assassination, v. 55, vr. 123; 
+his banishment of Onomacritus, vir. 6 
+
+Hippias, son of Pisistratus, his advice to his father, 1. 01: 
+expelled from Athens, v. 65; a refugee in Persia, v. 90; with 
+Datis army in Attica, v1. 107 
+
+Hippoclides, an Athenian suitor for Cleisthenes' daughter; his 
+rejection, vi. 129 
+
+Hippoclus, despot of Lampsacus, with Darius’ Scythian expedi. 
+tion, Iv. 138 
+
+
+345 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Hippocoón, a follower of Cadmus, v. 60 
+
+Hippocrates, (1) an Athenian, father of Pisistratus, 1. 59, v. 65. 
+(2) An Athenian, son of Megacles, vi. 131. (3) Despot of 
+Gela, son of Pantares, vir. 154; his capture of Zancle, νι. 23. 
+(4) A man of Sybaris, a suitor for Cleisthenes’ daughter, v1. 
+127 
+
+Hippocratides, a Spartan, ancestor of Leutychides, vur. 131 
+
+Hippolaus’ promontory, in Scythia, between the Hypanis and 
+the Borysthenes, tv. 53 
+
+Hippolochus, ancestor of a Lycian line of Ionian kings, 1. 147 
+
+Hippomachus, a Leucadian diviner with Mardonius’ army at 
+Plataea, Ix. 38 
+
+Hipponicus, (1) son of Pisistratus’ enemy Callias, an Athenian, 
+vi. 121. (2) Father of Callias, Athenian envoy to Persia 
+about 450 B.c., vir. 151 
+
+Histia, goddess of the hearth, τι. 50; her name Tabiti in Scythia, 
+Iv. 59, 127 
+
+Histiaea, in northern Euboea, vir 175, vin. 23, 66; Histiaean 
+country in Thessaly, formerly a Dorian possession, 1. 56 
+
+Histiaeus, (1) despot of Miletus; his protection of Darius’ bridge 
+over the Ister, rv. 137-139; enforced attendance on Darius, 
+v. 23-25; instigation of Ionian revolt, v. 35; return to Ionia, 
+v. 106-108; escape from the Persians, vr. 1-6; further ad- 
+ventures and death, νι. 26-31. (2) A man of Termera, a 
+Carian despot deposed by the Ionians, v. 37; in Xerxes’ fleet, 
+vir. 98. (3) A Samian, vir. 85 
+
+Homer, his theory of the ocean disbelieved, 11. 23; his probable 
+date, rr. 53; quoted as to Paris and Helen, rr. 116, 117; as 
+to Libya, Iv. 29; his alleged poem, “‘the Epigoni," rv. 32; his 
+celebration of Argives, v. 67; of Athens, vir. 161 
+
+Hoples, eponymous hero of an old Athenian tribe, son of Ion, 
+v. 66 
+
+Hyacinthia, à summer festival at Sparta in honour of Apollo and 
+Hyacinthus, 1x. 7, 11 
+
+Hyampea, one of the peaks of Parnassus, virt. 39 
+
+Hyampolis, a town in Phocis, ΥΠΙ. 33; Thessalian disaster there, 
+virt. 28 
+
+Hyatae, one of the tribes at Sicyon, so named by Cleisthenes, 
+v. 68 
+
+Hybla, a town in Sicily, νπ. 155 
+
+Hydarnes, (1) one of the seven Persian conspirators against the 
+Magians, 111. 70; vir. 66, 83. (2) Son of the above, vr. 133; 
+
+
+346 
+
+
+ἘΞ 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+commander of Xerxes’ “ Ten Thousand," vu. 83; governor 
+of the scaboard of W. Asia Minor, vir. 135; his command at 
+Thermopylae, vir. 211, 215, 218; with Xerxes in his flight 
+after Salamis, viii. 113, 118 
+
+H ydrea, an island S.E. of Argolis, 111. 59 
+
+Hyela, an Italian town (Velia) colonised by Phocaeans, 1. 167 
+
+Hylaea (Woodland), a distriet of Scythia, east of the Borysthenes, 
+rv. 9, 18, 54, 76 
+
+Hyllees, a Sicyonian tribe so named after Cleisthenes’ death, 
+v. 68 
+
+Hyllus, (1) son of Heracles, ancestor of the Spartan royal families, 
+vi. 52, vir. 204, vir. 131; his death, rx. 26. (2) A tributary 
+of the river Hermus in Lydia, 1. 80 
+
+Hymaees, a Persian commander in the second Ionian revolt, 
+v. 116, 122 
+
+Hymessus (Hymettus), a hill outside Athens, vr. 137 
+
+Hypachaei, an old name for Cilieians, ΥΠ. 91 
+
+Hypacyris, a Scythian river, apparently east of the Borysthenes, 
+Iv. 47, 55 
+
+Hypanis, a Scythian river (Boug), 1v. 18, 47, 52, 81 
+
+Hyperanthes, a son of Darius, killed at Thermopylae, ΥΠ. 224 
+
+Hyperboreans, a people alleged to inhabit the farthest north of 
+Europe, 1v. 13; story of their communication with Delos, 
+IV. 32-36 
+
+Hyperoche, one of two maidens alleged to have come to Delos 
+from the Hyperboreans, 1v. 33 
+
+Hyreanians, à people in the Persian empire, S. of the Caspian, 
+Hr. 117; in Xerxes’ army, ΥΠ. 62 
+
+Hyrgis (or Syrgis), a Scythian river (probably the Donetz), Iv. 57 
+
+Hyria, a town in 5. Italy (Oria), alleged to be founded by Cretans, 
+vu. 170 
+
+Hyroeades, a Mardian, his discovery of a way into Sardis, 1. 84 
+
+Hysiae, a village on the slopes of Cithaeron, in Attica; taken 
+by Boeotians, v. 74; vi. 108; part played by it on the battle- 
+field of Plataea, ΙΧ. 15, 25 
+
+Hysseldomus, a Carian, Υπ. 98 
+
+Hystanes, a Persian, vir. 77 
+
+Hystaspes, (1) father of Darius; his pledge to Cyrus of Darius’ 
+fidelity, 1. 209, 210; governor of the province of Persia, 111. 
+70. (Elsewhere a patronymic.) (2) A son of Darius, vu. 64 
+
+Hytennees, a Pisidian tribe; their tribute to the Persian empire, 
+ΠΙ. 90 
+
+
+347 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Iadmon, a Samian, his slaves Rhodopis and Aesopus, τ. 134 
+
+Iamidae, a family of diviners in Elis, v. 44, 1x. 33 
+
+Iapygia, in the heel of Italy, rrr. 138, Iv. 99, vir. 170 
+
+Iardanus, a Lydian, I. 7 
+
+Iason, his voyage in the Argo, 1v. 179, vir. 193 
+
+Iatragoras, an agent of the Ionians in revolt against Darius, 
+v. 37 
+
+Ibanollis, à man of Mylasa, v. 37, 121 
+
+Iberians, their traffic with Phocaea, 1. 163; attack on Gelon 
+of Sicily, vir. 165 
+
+Icarian sea, VI. 95 
+
+Ichnae, a town in Macedonia, near the coast, vir. 123 
+
+Ichthyophagi, a tribe inhabiting Elephantine, Cambyses’ inter- 
+preters in his mission to the Ethiopians, 11. 19-23 
+
+Ida, à mountain in the Troad, 1. 151; Xerxes' route past it, 
+ναι. 42 
+
+Idanthyrsus, a Scythian king, rv. 76; in command of Scythians 
+against Darius, 1v. 120; his defiance of Darius, 1v. 127 
+
+Idriad district in Caria, v. 118 
+
+Ielysus, a Dorian town in Rhodes, 1. 144 
+
+Ienysus, a town in Syria, near the Egyptian frontier, 11. 5. 
+
+lliad, story of Paris and Helen in it, 11. 116 
+
+Ilissus, a river in Attica; temple of Boreas built near it, ΥΠ. 
+189 
+
+Ilium, the Trojan war there, 1. 5, rr. 10, 117—120, vir. 20, 161; 
+Troad subdued by Persians, v. 122; traversed by Xerxes, 
+ΥΠ. 42 
+
+Illyria, customs of the Eneti there, r. 196; river Angrus there, 
+Iv. 49; flight to Illyria of the Temenid brothers, vir. 137; 
+Illyrian invasion of Greece, 1x. 43 
+
+Imbros, in the N.E. Aegean, v. 26, vr. 41, 104 
+
+Inachus, father of Io, 1. 1. 
+
+Inaros of Libya, his revolt against Persia in 460 B.c., m1. 12, 15, 
+vir. 7 
+
+Indians, their tribute to Persia, m1. 94; their customs, ΤΠ. 97— 
+102, 104; conquest by Darius, Iv. 44; most numerous people 
+in the world, v. 3; in Xerxes’ army, vir. 65, 86; with Mar- 
+donius, vri. 113, 1x. 31. Indian dogs, 1. 192, vir. 187 
+
+Indus, the river, Darius' exploration of it, 1v. 44 
+
+Ino, wife of Athamas, ΥΠ. 197 
+
+Intaphrenes, one of the seven conspirators against the Magians 
+ni. 70, 78; his presumption and punishment, ΠΙ. 118 
+
+
+348 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Inyx (or Inycus), a town in Sicily, probably near Acragas, vr. 
+123 
+
+Io, daughter of Inachus, her abduction, 1. 1, 5; depicted in the 
+form of a cow, ΙΙ. 41 
+
+Ioleus, a town offered by the Thessalians to the exiled Hippias, 
+v. 94 
+
+Ion, eponymous ancestral hero of the Ionians, v. 06, vir. 94, 
+vill. 44 
+
+Ionians, subdued by Croesus, 1. 6; Dorian and Jonian races, 
+I. 56; threatened by Cyrus, 1. 141, 142; their settlements 
+in Asia, 1. 143-153, rr. 178; conquest by Cyrus, 1. 159-171; 
+Ionian beliefs about Egypt refuted, rr. 15, 16; Sesostris’ in- 
+scriptions in Ionia, 11. 106; Ionian pirates in Egypt, 11. 152; 
+Amasis’ Ionian guards, rr. 163; tribute paid by Ionians to 
+Persia, 111. 90; Ionians with Darius’ Scythian expedition, 
+IV. 89; left to guard the Ister bridge, Iv. 97, 128, 133, 136- 
+142; Ionian revolt against Darius, v. 28-38; Ionian and 
+Phoenician writing, v. 58, 59; Ionian tribes in Attica, v. 69; 
+Ionian dress, v. 87; course of Ionian revolt, and burning of 
+Sardis, v. 97-103, 108-115; reduction of Jonian towns, v. 
+116-123; continuance of revolt and its final suppression, VI. 
+1-32 passim; Persian organisation of Ionia, vi. 42; Ionia 
+“exposed to many risks” (in story of Glaucus), vi. 86; 
+Ionians in Xerxes’ fleet, vir. 94; Themistocles? appeal to 
+them, vir. 22; Athenians called [onians, vir. 44; Jonians 
+in Peloponnese, vii. 73; Ionian ships with Xerxes at Salamis, 
+vir. 85, 90; appeals from Ionia to the Greeks for help, vin. 
+132, rx. 90; Ionian desertion of Persians at Mycale, 1x. 98, 
+103; revolt against Persia, rx. 104, 106 ; (other unimportant reff.) 
+
+Ionian sea, ΥΠ. 20, ΙΧ. 92 
+
+Iphiclus, father of Protesilaus, rx. 116 
+
+Iphigenia, daughter of Agamemnon; human sacrifice offered 
+to her in Scythia, 1v. 103 
+
+Ipni (Ovens), name of rocks at the foot of Pelion, the scene of 
+a Persian shipwreck, vir. 188 
+
+Irasa, in Libya, the site of the founding of Cyrene, rv. 158 
+
+Irens, Spartan young men between 20 and 30 years of age, 
+IX. 85 
+
+Is (Hit), a place eight days distant from Babylon, on a river 
+of the same name, producing bitumen, 1. 179 
+
+Isagoras, an Athenian, rival of Cleisthenes the reformer, and 
+supported by Sparta, v. 66, 70-74 
+
+
+319 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Ischenoiis, an Aeginetan, vil. 181 
+
+Isis, an Egyptian deity, identified by Herodotus with Demeter, 
+q.v.; represented with a cow's head, rr. 41, 1v. 186; her temple 
+at Busiris, τι. 59 
+
+Ismaris, lake in Thrace, on Xerxes’ route, ΥΠ. 109 
+
+Ismenian, epithet of Apollo at Thebes, 1. 52, 92, v. 59, ντ. 
+134 
+
+
+Issedones, a people living north of the Caspian, probably, 1. 201, 
+IV. 13, 16, 32; their customs, Iv. 26 
+
+Isthmus of Corinth, Greek council of war there, ΥΠ. 172; decision 
+to guard it, vir. 40; to withdraw the fleet thither from 
+Salamis, vir. 56; decision reversed, vir. 63; fortification 
+of the isthmus, vir. 71; Peloponnesian policy of holding it, 
+ΙΧ. 7-10; Greek advance from the isthmus, ΙΧ. 19; dedication 
+of spoils of war there, vir. 121, rx. 81 
+
+Istria, a Milesian colony at the mouth of the Ister, r1. 33 
+
+Istrus (Ister, Danube), compared to the Nile, τι. 26, 33; its 
+course and tributaries, rv. 47—50; bridged by Darius, 1v. 89; 
+Ister ten days’ journey from the Borysthenes, 1v. 101; Darius’ 
+recrossing of the river, Iv. 141; unknown country N. of the 
+Ister, v. 9 (some other unimportant reff.) 
+
+Italia, river Crathis there, 1. 145; Democedes in Italy, rr. 136- 
+138; Metapontium, rv. 15; adventures of Dorieus in Italy, 
+v. 43, 44; Athenian threat to migrate to Siris in Italy, virt. 
+62 
+
+Itanus, a town in Crete, 1v. 151 
+
+Ithome, a hill and town in Messenia, rx. 35 (but the reading is 
+doubtful). 
+
+Iyrcae, a Scythian hunting tribe, rv. 22 
+
+
+Labda, mother of Cypselus, despot of Corinth, v. 92 
+
+Labdacus of Thebes, father of Laius, v. 59 
+
+Labraunda, in Caria; temple of a war-god there, v. 119 
+
+Labynetus, (1) ruler of Babylon, 1. 74. (2) His son, also ruler 
+of Babylon, temp. Cyrus, 1. 77, 188 
+
+Lacedaemon (and Sparta); Lycurgus’ legislation, 1. 65, 66; 
+Croesus’ friendship with Lacedaemon, 1. 69; Lacedaemon war 
+with Argos, 1. 82; with Tegea, 1. 67, 68; attack on Samos, 
+II. 44-41, 54-56; Theras’ colonising expedition from Lace- 
+daemon, Iv. 147-149; state of Sparta under Cleomenes, v. 
+39-43; Lacedaemonian invasion of Attica to expel the Pisis- 
+tratids, v. 63-65, 70-76; feud between Spartan kings, and 
+
+
+359 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+origin of dual kingship, vr. 51, 52, 61—71; rights and duties 
+of the kings, vr. 56-60; war with Argos, vr. 76-82; Spartan 
+force too late for Marathon, vi. 120; claim to command 
+against the Persians, vir. 159; Lacedaemonians under Leonidas 
+at Thermopylae, vir. 204-232;  Lacedaemonian envoys at 
+Athens to maintain Athenian alliance, vri. 142-144; dilatory 
+policy of Lacedaemonians after Salamis, ΙΧ. 7-11; their ad- 
+vance into Boeotia, Ix. 19; Spartan tactics before Plataea, 
+and conduct in the battle, rx. 46-70; at Mycale, 1x. 102-104 
+(many other incidental reff.; see also Cleomenes, Eurybiades, 
+Demaratus, Leonidas, Pausanias.) 
+
+Lacmon, a mountain in N.W. Greece, above Apollonia, rx. 93 
+
+Lacrines, a Spartan envoy to Cyrus, I. 152 
+
+Lade, an island off Miletus, headquarters of the Jonian fleet in 
+the revolt against Darius, vr. 7, 11 
+
+Ladice of Cyrene, wife of Amasis of Egypt, τι. 181 
+
+Laius, son of Labdacus, and father of Oedipus, v. 59; his oracles, 
+v. 43 
+
+Lampito, daughter of Leutychides, king of Sparta, vi. 71 
+
+Lampon, (1) à Samian envoy to the Greeks before Mycale, ΙΧ. 
+90. (2) An Athenian, rx. 21. (3) An Aeginetan, his advice 
+to Pausanias to impale the corpse of Mardonius, Ix. 78 
+
+Lamponium, a Lesbian colony in Mysia, v. 26 
+
+Lampsacus, in the Troad, on the Hellespont, v. 117; its hostility 
+to Miltiades, γι. 37 
+
+Laodamas, (1) son of Eteocles of Thebes, v. 61. (2) An Aegine- 
+tan, rv. 152. (3) Despot of Phocaea, with Darius’ Scythian 
+expedition, Iv. 138 
+
+Laodice, one of the Hyperborean visitants at Delos, rv. 33 
+
+Lapithae, a pre-Hellenic race; a Lapith at Corinth, v. 92 
+
+Laphanes, an Azanian, a suitor for Cleisthenes' daughter, vI. 127 
+
+Lasonii, a people on the borders of Lycia; their tribute to Persia, 
+ΠΙ. 90; in Xerxes’ army, VII. 77 
+
+Lasus of Hermione, his detection of a forgery, vir. 6 
+
+Laurium, in Attica, Athenian revenue from its silver mines, 
+vir. 144 
+
+Laüs, a town on the W. coast of southern Italy, vr. 21 
+
+Leagrus, an Athenian general in Thrace, 465 B.C., IX. 75 
+
+Learchus, brother and murderer of the second Arcesilaus of 
+Cyrene, 1v. 160 
+
+Lebadea, in northern Greece, its oracular shrine of Trophonius, 
+vir. 134 
+
+
+351 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Lebaea, a town in Macedonia, vim. 137 
+
+Lebedos, an Ionian town in Lydia, 1. 142 
+
+Lectus, a promontory in the Troad, rx. 114 
+
+Leleges, old name of the Carians, 1. 171 
+
+Lemnos, off the Troad, colonised by the Minyae, rv. 145; its 
+Pelasgian inhabitants, v. 26, νι. 138; their crime and penalty, 
+vr. 138-140; Lemnians in Peloponnese, vir. 73 
+
+Leobotes, a king of Sparta, Lycurgus’ ward, 1. 65, ντι. 204 
+
+Leocedes, an Argive, one of the suitors for Cleisthenes' daughter, 
+vi. 127 
+
+Leon (1) of Troezen, captain of the first Greek ship captured 
+by Xerxes’ flect, ντι. 180. (2) A king of Sparta, 1. 65, v. 39, 
+vir. 204 
+
+Leonidas, king of Sparta, son of Anaxandrides, v. 41; his com- 
+mand and death at Thermopylae, ΥΠ. 204—238; atonement 
+for his death demanded by Sparta, vir. 114; Pausanias’ 
+refusal to avenge Leonidas on Mardonius’ dead body, 1x. 79 
+
+Leontiades, commander of the Thebans at Thermopylae, vir. 
+205, 233 
+
+Leontini, a town in Sicily, vIr. 154 
+
+Leoprepes, (1) a Spartan, v1. 85. (2) A Cean, father of Simonides, 
+VII. 228 
+
+Lepreum, a town in Elis, founded by the Minyae, Iv. 148; its 
+contingent at Plataea, 1x. 28 
+
+Lerisae, an Aeolian town in Asia Minor, 1. 149 
+
+Leros, off the Carian coast, proposal that the Ionian rebels 
+against Darius should take refuge there, v. 125 
+
+Lesbos, Aeolian towns there, 1. 151; islands in the Araxes 
+alleged to be as big as Lesbos, 1. 202; Lesbians defeated by 
+Polyerates of Samos, ΠΠ. 39; their fleet in the Ionic revolt, 
+vi. ὃ; Lesbos reconquered by Persians, vI. 31; received into 
+Greek alliance after Mycale, 1x. 106 
+
+Leto, identified with the Egyptian Uat; her oracular shrine at 
+Buto, 11. 59, 152, 155 
+
+Leucadians, in N.W. Greece; in the Greek fleet, vim. 45, 47; 
+in Pausanias’ army at Plataea, ΙΧ. 28 
+
+Leucae stelae (White Columns), a place on the river Marsyas 
+in Caria, v. 118 
+
+Leuce Acte (White Strand), in Thrace, a centre for Xerxes’ 
+commissariat, ΥΠ. 25 
+
+Leucon, a place in Libya, defeat of the second Arcesilaus by 
+Libyans there, 1v. 160 
+
+
+352 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Leucon teichos (White Fort) at Memphis, held by a Persian 
+garrison, ΤΠ. 91 
+
+Leutychides, (1) a Spartan, great-great-grandfather of Leuty- 
+chides, king of Sparta, vim. 131. (2) King of Sparta; enemy 
+and successor of Demaratus, vr. 65, 67; his family, vr. 71; 
+his death (469 B.c.), vr. 72; his appeal to Athens to surrender 
+Aeginetan hostages (story of Glaucus), vr. 86; his command 
+of the Greek force before and at Mycale, rx. 90, 92, 98; return 
+to Greece, 1x. 114 
+
+Libya, part of it submerged by the Nile flood, rr. 18; extent 
+of Libya, 11. 32; story of a crossing of the Libyan desert, ib.; 
+Poseidon a Libyan deity, π. 50; Libya and Dodona, rr. 54— 
+56; Libyans a healthy people, rr. 77; Libyan tribute to Persia, 
+HI. 91; heat of Libya, iv. 29; Darius proposed conquest 
+of Libya, 1v. 145, 167; list of Libyan tribes and description 
+of their manners and customs, Iv. 168-199; circumnavigation 
+of Libya, rv. 42-43; early history of Cyrene, rv. 150-164; 
+Dorieus in Libya, v. 42; Ethiopians of Libya woolly haired, 
+vil. 70; Libyans in Xerxes’ army, vir 71, 86; with the 
+Carthaginians in the attack on Gelon, ΥΠ. 165 
+
+Lichas, a Spartan, his discovery at Tegea, 1. 67 
+
+Lide, a hill in Caria, defended against the Persians, 1. 174 
+
+Ligyes, (1) an Asiatic contingent in Xerxes’ army, apparently 
+from near the Halys, vu. 72. (2) Ligurians, v. 9; their part 
+in the invasion of Sicily, ντι. 165 
+
+Limeneium, a place near Miletus, defeat there of Milesians by 
+Sardyattes, 1. 18 
+
+Lindus, in Rhodes, temple of Athene there, τι. 182; Lindian 
+founders of Gela in Sicily, vir. 153 
+
+Linus, a youth lamented in Greek song, identified by Hero- 
+dotus with the Egyptian Maneros, rr 79 (sce note ad 
+loc.) 
+
+Lipaxus, a town in Chalcidice, vir. 123 
+
+Lipoxais, one of the three mythical ancestors of the Scythian 
+nation, Iv. 5. 
+
+Lipsydrium, probably on Mt. Parnes in Attica; fortified by the 
+Alemeonidae, v. 62 
+
+Lisae, a town in Chalcidice, vir. 123 
+
+Lisus, a town in Thrace, on Xerxes’ route, vir. 108 
+
+Locrians, in Italy (Epizephyrii) vr. 23; opposite to Euboea 
+(Opuntians), ντι. 132; in the Persian armies, vii. 66, Ix. 31; 
+with the Grecks at Thermopylae, vu. 203, 207; Locrian ships 
+
+
+353 
+VOL. IY, (HERODOTUS) N 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+in the Greek fleet, vi. 1; Ozolian Locrians, flight of the 
+Delphians thither, vim. 32 
+
+Lotophagi, in the Cyrenaean part of northern Libya, on the 
+sea coast, Iv. 177, 183 
+
+Loxias, title of the Delphic Apollo, 1. 91, 1v. 163 
+
+Lycaretus, a Samian, brother of Maeandrius, 111. 143; made 
+governor of Lemnos by the Persians, v. 27 
+
+Lycians, their kings of Ionia, 1. 147; Lycians originally Cretans, 
+I. 173; their resistance to the Medes, 1. 176; tribute to Persia, 
+II. 90; in Xerxes’ army, ΥΠ. 92 
+
+Lycidas, an Athenian, put to death for advising negotiations 
+with Persians, 1x. 5 
+
+Lycomedes, an Athenian, distinguished in a sea-fight off Arte- 
+misium, VIIL. ll 
+
+Lycopas, a Spartan, distinguished in an attack on Samos, ri. 55 
+
+Lycophron, son of Periander of Corinth; his quarrel with his 
+father, rrr. 50—53 
+
+Lycurgus, (1) the Spartan legislator, 1. 65, 66. (2) An Athenian, 
+leader of the ‘‘ men of the plain," son of Aristolaidas, 1. 59. 
+(3) An Arcadian, vr. 127 
+
+Lycus, (1) an Athenian, son of Pandion; Lycia called after him, 
+1. 173, υπ. 92. (2) A Scythian, 1v. 76. (3) A river in Scythia, 
+flowing into the Maeétian lake, tv. 123. (4) A river in 
+Phrygia, flowing by Colossae, vr. 30 
+
+Lydians, passim 1. 6—56, 69-92 (but without any important 
+mention of the name; see Sardis and Croesus); notable sights 
+in Lydia, and its customs, 1. 93, 94; Ionians in Lydia, 1. 
+142; Croesus’ advice as to Cyrus’ government of Lydia, 1. 
+154-156; Lydian tribute to Persia, mr. 90; Lydian theory 
+of the name Asia, Iv. 45; wealth of Lydia, v. 49; Alcmeon’s 
+good offices to Lydians, vi. 125; Xerxes’ passage through 
+Lydia, vu. 30-32; Lydians in his army, vu. 74 
+
+Lydias, a river between Bottiaea and Macedonia, ΥΠ. 127 
+
+Lydus, son of Atys, origin of the name Lydia, 1. 7, 171, vix. 74 
+
+Lygdamis, (1) a Halicarnassian, father of Artemisia, vir. 99. 
+(2) A Naxian, a friend and helper of Pisistratus, 1. 61, 64 
+
+Lynceus, alleged to have come with his uncle Danatis from 
+Chemmis in Egypt, 1. 91 
+
+Lysagoras, (1) a Milesian, father of Histiaeus, v. 30. (2) A 
+Parian, son of Tisias; enemy of the younger Miltiades, vi. 133 
+
+Lysanias of Eretria, a suitor for Cleisthenes’ daughter, v1. 127 
+
+Lysicles, an Athenian, vin. 21 
+
+
+354 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Lysimachus, an Athenian, father of Aristides, vir. 79 
+Lysistratus, an Athenian oracle-monger, vir. 96 
+
+
+Macae, a tribe on the Libyan coast, 1v. 175, v. 42 
+
+Macedonians, a name for Dorians in their early settlements near 
+Mt. Pindus, 1. 56, vir. 43 
+
+Macedonia, access to it from the east, v. 17; fate of Persian 
+envoys there, v. 18-20; subdued by Mardonius, vr. 44; 
+passes from Macedonia into Thessaly, vir. 128, 173; Mace- 
+donians in Xerxes’ army, vil. 185, at Plataea, ΙΧ. 31; story 
+of the beginnings of the Tcmenid dynasty, vir. 137-139; 
+Macedonians governing Boeotia for Persians, vin. 34 (see 
+also Alexander). 
+
+Machlyes, a tribe on the Libyan coast, 1v. 178, 180 
+
+Macistius, see Masistius. 
+
+Macistus, a town in the west of the Peloponnese, founded by the 
+Minyae, 1v. 148 
+
+Maerones, a tribe S.E. of the Euxine, 1r. 104; their tribute to 
+Persia, 111. 94; in Xerxes’ army, vit. 78 
+
+Mactorium, 8 town near Gela in Sicily, vir. 153 
+
+Madyes, a Scythian king; his invasion of Media and conquest 
+of Asia, 1. 104 
+
+Madytus, a town in the Thracian Chersonese, near Xerxes’ 
+bridge, vir. 33, 1x. 120 
+
+Maeander, a river between Lydia and Caria; its windings, rr. 
+29; source at Celaenae, vir. 26; crossed by Xerxes, vir. 30 
+
+Maeandrius, secretary to Polycrates of Samos, 11. 124; Poly- 
+crates’ deputy, rii. 142; his death, ΙΙ. 143 
+
+Maeétae, a tribe north of the Maeétian lake, rv. 123; the Tanais 
+called Maeétian, Iv. 45 
+
+Maeétian lake (Palus Maeotis, Sea of Azov), its distance from 
+the Phasis, 1. 104; mouth of the Tanais there, rv. 57, 100; 
+nearly as large as the Euxine, 1v. 86, 110, 116, 120, 123 
+
+Magdolus (Migdol of O.T.), on the Egyptian and Syrian frontier; 
+alleged scene of a battle (really fought not here but at Megiddo) 
+between Egyptians and Syrians, 11. 159 
+
+Magi, à Median tribe of magicians and interpreters of dreams, 
+I. 101; their services in this respect, 1. 107, 120, 128, 132, 140, 
+vir. 19, 37, 43, 113, 191; the Magian usurpation of royalty 
+and its end, rrr. 61, 63—69, 71, 74—80 
+
+Magnesia, (1) a district in Thessaly, Xerxes’ fleet there, vir. 
+183, 193; Magnesians in Xerxes' army, vir. 132, 195. (2) A 
+
+
+355 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+town in Asia near the Macander, taken by Medes, 1. 161; 
+Polyerates put to death there by Oroetes, 111. 125; Magnesian 
+tribute to Persia, 111. 90 
+
+Malea, the southernmost promontory of Peloponnese ; all western 
+Greece as far as Malea once ruled by Argos, 1. 82; Iason’s 
+voyage near it, Iv. 179; Corcyraeans’ pretext that they could 
+not pass Malea, vir. 168 
+
+Malene, near Atarneus in Mysia, scene of a battle in the Ionian 
+revolt, vi. 29 
+
+Males, an Aetolian suitor for Cleisthenes' daughter, v1. 127 
+
+Mandane, daughter of Astyages and mother of Cyrus, 1. 107, 111 
+
+Mandrocles, a Samian, constructor of Darius’ bridge over the 
+Bosporus, Iv. 87, 88 
+
+Maneros, son of Min, the first king of Egypt; lament for his 
+early death identified with the Greek Linus-song, 11. 79 
+
+Manes, an early Lydian king, 1. 94, Iv. 45 
+
+Mantinea, in Arcadia; an arbitrator sent thence to settle the 
+affairs of Cyrene, 1v. 161; Mantineans at Thermopylae, vir. 
+202; their late arrival at Plataea, 1x. 77 
+
+Mantyes, a Paeonian, his and his brother's proposal to the 
+Persians to annex Paeonia, v. 12 
+
+Maraphii, a Persian tribe, 1. 125 
+
+Marathon, on the N.E. coast of Attica; Pisistratus landing 
+there after exile, 1. 62; Persian landing under Datis, vr. 102; 
+preliminaries to the battle, and the battle itself, νι. 107-117 
+(a few more unimportant reff.) 
+
+Mardi, a Persian tribe, 1. 125 
+
+Mardonius, son of Gobryas, his expedition to Greece and ship- 
+wreck off Athos, vi. 43-45; his warlike counsel to Xerxes, 
+vir. 5, 9; one of the six generals in command of Xerxes’ army, 
+vu. 82, 121; in Xerxes’ eonfidenee, vir. 97; proposal for 
+operations in Greece after Salamis, vir. 100-102; Xerxes’ 
+promise that Mardonius should give the Greeks satisfaction 
+for the death of Leonidas, vim. 114; Mardonius in Thessaly, 
+vil. 131; his consultation of oracles, virt. 135; proposal 
+through Alexander for an Athenian alliance, vim. 140; his 
+second capture of Athens, 1x. 3; retreat into Boeotia and 
+position there, rx. 14, 15; operations near Plataea, ix. 17— 
+25, 38-40; dispute between Mardonius and Artabazus, ΙΧ. 
+41, 42; taunting message to Spartans, 1x. 48; his eavalry 
+attack on the Greeks, rx. 49; final engagement, and death 
+of Mardonius, Ix. 61-63; his burial, ΙΧ. 84 
+
+
+350 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Mardontes, a Persian, one of Xerxes’ officers, ΥΠ. 80; in com- 
+mand of Persian fleet after Salamis, vir. 130; his death at 
+Myeale, 1x. 102 
+
+Marea, a frontier post in western Egypt, τι. 18, 30 
+
+Mares, a tribe apparently on the S.E. coast of the Luxine; 
+tribute to Persia, 111. 91; in Xerxes’ army, vir. 79 
+
+Mariandyni, a tribe in Paphlagonia; tribute to Persia, rm. 90; 
+in Xerxes’ army, VII. 72 
+
+Maris, a northern tributary of the Danube, according to Herodotus 
+(but this is wrong, if Maris is modern Marosch), rv. 49 
+
+Maron, a Spartan distinguished at Thermopylae, vir. 227 
+
+Maronea, à Greek town in Thrace, on Xerxes’ route, vir. 109 
+
+Marsyas, (1) the ' Silenus" according to legend worsted in a 
+musical competition and flayed by Apollo, νη. 26. (2) A 
+river in Caria, v. 118. (The better known Marsyas in Phrygia 
+is called Catarrhactes by Herodotus, vir. 26.) 
+
+Maseames, Persian governor of Doriscus in Thrace; his defence 
+of the town, ΥΠ. 105 
+
+Masistes, son of Darius, one of the six generals of Xerxes’ army, 
+vi. 82, 121; his quarrel with Artayntes, 1x. 107; victim of 
+Xerxes’ adultery and eruclty, rx. 110—113. 
+
+Masistius, a Persian officer in Xerxes’ army, VII. 79; in com- 
+mand of cavalry at Plataea, rx. 20; his death, and mourning 
+for him, 1x. 22, 24 
+
+Maspii, a Persian tribe, 1. 125 
+
+Massages, a Persian officer in Xerxes’ army, vir. 71 
+
+Massagetae, a people apparently N. of the Caspian; Cyrus’ 
+campaign against them, 1. 201, 204-208, 211-214; their 
+customs, I. 215, 216; Seythians driven from their country 
+by Massagetae, 1V. 11 
+
+Massalia (Massilia, Marseilles), v. 9 
+
+Matieni, à people of doubtful locality; on the right of the Halys, 
+I. 72; source of the Araxes, 1. 202; of the Gyndes, 1. 189; 
+of the modern “ Greater Zab,’ v. 52; west of Armenia, v. 
+49; tribute to Persia, rri. 94; in Xerxes’ army, ΥΠ. 72 
+
+Matten, a Tyrian officer in Xerxes’ fleet, vrr. 98 
+
+Mausolus, a man of Cindye in Caria, v. 118 
+
+Mecisteus, brother of Adrastus according to legend, and slain 
+by Melanippus, v. 67 
+
+Mecyberna, a town on the Sithonian promontory of Chalcidice, 
+ΥΠ. 122 
+
+Medea, her abduetion by Iason, 1.2; Media called after her, vir. 62 
+
+
+357 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Medians (as distinct from Persians), their war with Lydia, 1. 16: 
+the Halys their frontier, 1. 72; Cyaxares' feud with Scythians, 
+I 73; Medians' revolt from Assyria, and growth of their 
+power, 1. 95-102; conquered by Scythians, 1. 104, τν. 1; 
+their liberation, 1. 106, 1v. 4; subjection of Media to Persia 
+by Cyrus, 1. 123-130; Median system of government, 1. 134; 
+their dress, 1. 135, mr. 84, v. 9; Babylonians alarmed by 
+Median power, r. 185; Median tribute to Persia, m1. 92; 
+horses, ΙΙ. 106, vrr. 40; Media on the northern frontier of 
+Persia, Iv. 37; Medians in Xerxes’ army, vır. 62; at Thermo- 
+pylae, vir. 210; in Mardonius army, vir. 113, ΙΧ. 31, 40 
+
+Megabates, a Persian general, Darius’ cousin, v. 32, 35 
+
+Megabazus, (1) a Persian general, left by Darius in Thrace on 
+his Scythian expedition, rv. 143; Darius’ estimation of him, 
+1b.; his operations in Thrace, v. 1, 10, 12, 14, 17, 28. (2) One 
+of Xerxes' admirals, son of Megabates, vir. 97 
+
+Megabyzus, (1) a Persian, one of the seven conspirators against 
+the Magians, ΙΠ. 70; advocate of oligarchy for Persia, ΙΙ. 81. 
+(2) A Persian, father of Zopyrus, 11. 153. (3) Son of Zopyrus; 
+one of the generals of Xerxes’ army, vir. 82, 121; in command 
+subsequently in Egypt, 111. 160 
+
+Megacles, (1) an Athenian, father of Alemeon, vi. 125. (2) Son 
+of Alemeon 5 leader of the ** Men of the Coast," τ. 59; father- 
+in-law of Pisistratus, 1. 61; married to the daughter of 
+Cleisthenes of Sicyon, vr. 127, 130. (3) Grandson of Megacles 
+(2), and grandfather of Pericles, v1. 131 
+
+Megacreon, of Abdera, his saying about the feeding of Xerxes' 
+army, vil. 120 
+
+Megadostes, a Persian, vir. 105 
+
+Megapanus, a Persian officer in Xerxes’ army, afterwards 
+governor of Babylon, ΥΠ. 62 
+
+Megara, a Dorian settlement, on the borders of Attica, v. 76; 
+Megarians in the Greek fleet, vu. 1, 45; in Pausanias army, 
+IX. 21, 28, 31; their disaster, ΙΧ, 69, 85. Megarians of Sicily, 
+their treatment by Gelon, vir. 156 
+
+Megasidrus, a Persian, ΥΠ. 72 
+
+Megistias, an Acarnanian diviner, with Leonidas at Thermopylae, 
+vu. 219, 221; his epitaph, vir. 228 
+
+Meionians, old name of Lydians, 1. 7; in Xerxes’ army, vu. 74 
+
+Melampus, a legendary hero and teacher; his introduction of 
+the cult of Dionysus into Greece, 11.49; ancestor of Megistias, 
+vir. 221; his demand of privileges at Argos, ΙΧ. 34 
+
+
+358 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Melampygus, name of a rock on the mountain side above 
+Thermopylae, vir. 216 
+
+Melanchlaeni (Black-Cloaks), a tribe N. of Seythia, 1v. 20, 100; 
+their customs, IV. 107; their part in the war with Darius, tv. 
+119, 125 
+
+Melanippus, (1) a legendary Theban hero; his cult introduced 
+at Sicyon, v. 67. (2) A Mytilenaean, a friend of the poet 
+Alcaeus, v. 95 
+
+Melanthius, an Athenian commander sent to assist the Ionian 
+rebels against Darius, v. 97 
+
+Melanthus, father of Codrus, 1. 147, v. 65 
+
+Melas (black), epithet of (1) a river in Thrace, crossed by Xerxes, 
+ΥΠ. 58. (2) A bay into which the above flows, γι. 41, Υπ. 
+58. (3) A river in Malis near Thermopylae, vir. 198 
+
+Meles, king of Sardis, 1. 84 
+
+Meliboea, near the coast of Magnesia; wreck of Xerxes’ fleet 
+near it, vir. 188 
+
+Melians (of Melis, or Malis), their submission to Xerxes, VII. 
+132; mountains of Melis, ΥΠ. 198; Thermopylae in Melis, 
+vir. 201; discovery of the Anopaea path, vir. 215; Melians 
+in Persian armies, vir. 66, rx. 31; Melian gulf a stage on 
+the way from the Hyperboreans to Delos, τν. 33 
+
+Melians of Melos, colonists from Lacedaemon, in the Greek fleet, 
+VIII. 46, 48 
+
+Melissa, wife of Periander of Corinth, 111. 50, v. 92 
+
+Membliarus, à Phoenician, founder of a settlement in the island 
+of Calliste or Thera, 1v. 147 
+
+Memnon, legendary king of Ethiopia; a rock figure in Ionia 
+wrongly taken to represent him, n. 106; Susa called “ Mem- 
+nonian," v. 53, vir. 151 
+
+Memphis, in Egypt, its temple of “ Hephaestus,” rr. 3, 112, 153; 
+pyramids there, n. 8; hills above it, rr. 12, 158; Nile flood 
+below Memphis, τι. 97, 99; works of Min there, rr. 99; pre- 
+cinct of Proteus, 11. 112; quarries of Memphis, 1. 175; water 
+supply from Memphis, m1. 6; Memphis taken by Cambyses, 
+ΤΠ. 13; his return thither from Ethiopia, rr. 25; his sacrilege 
+there, in. 37; Persian garrison there, m1. 91; Darius and 
+Syloson at Memphis, ΤΠ. 139 
+
+Menares, a Spartan, father of Leutychides, νι. 65, 71, vrrr. 131 
+
+Mende, à town on the promontory of Pallene in Chalcidice, ΥΠ. 
+123 
+
+Mendes, an Egyptian deity; identified with Pan, ΙΙ. 42, 46; 
+
+
+359 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Mendesian province, Π. 42, 40; inhabited by one of the 
+Egyptian warrior tribes, rr. 166; Mendesian mouth of the 
+Nile, 11. 17 
+
+Menelaus, (1) brother of Agamemnon; his visit to Egypt, 11. 
+118, 119; Cretans reminded of their assistance of Menelaus 
+before Troy, vir. 169, 171. (2) A harbour near Cyrene, iv. 
+169 
+
+Menius, a Spartan, brother-in-law of Leutychides, vr. 71 
+
+Merbalus, an officer in Xerxes’ fleet, from the island of Aradus, 
+Vil. 98 
+
+Mermnadae, the reigning dynasty in Lydia from Gyges to Croesus, 
+το τα 
+
+Meroé, on the Nile, the capital of Ethiopia, n. 29 (probably 
+Napata) 
+
+Mesambria, a town on the Thracian coast of the Aegean, Iv. 93, 
+VI. 33, ΥΠ. 108 
+
+Messapii, a people near Tarentum, said to be of Cretan origin, 
+vir. 170 
+
+Messene, in Sicily (Messina), otherwise called Zancle; a Coin 
+settlement there, vir. 164 
+
+Messenia, its alliance with Samos, in. 47; wars with Sparta, 
+v. 49, 1x. 35, 64 
+
+Metapontium, near Croton in Italy, its story of the reincarna- 
+tion of Aristeas, 1v. 15 
+
+Metiochus, son of the younger Miltiades, his capture by Persians, 
+v1. 41 
+
+Metrodorus, one of the Hellespontian despots with Darius’ 
+Scythian expedition, rv. 138 
+
+Micythus, governor of Rhegium, his defeat by Messapians and 
+his offerings at Olympia, ΥΠ. 170 
+
+Midas, king of Phrygia, son of Gordias, his offerings at Delphi, 
+I. 14; his gardens in Macedonia, vri. 138 
+
+Miletus, in Caria, attacked by Gyges, 1. 14; war with Alyattes, 
+1. 17-22; an Ionian town, 1. 142; agreement with Cyrus, 
+I. 169; port of Borysthenes a Milesian settlement, Iv. 78; 
+wealth and dissensions of Miletus, v. 28, 29; Aristagoras its 
+governor, V. 30; Milesians defeated by Persians in Ionic 
+revolt, v. 120; threatened attack of Miletus by Persians, v1. 
+5-7; siege, capture, and depopulation of the town, vr. 18— 
+22; Phrynichus' drama on the subject, vi. 22; Persian fleet 
+off Miletus, vr. 31; story of the Milesian and Glaucus, vr. 86; 
+Miletus’ foundation by Neleus, rx. 97; Milesians’ desertion 
+
+
+360 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+of the Persians at Mycale, 1x. 104 (other less important reff.; 
+see also Aristagoras and Histiaeus). 
+
+Milon of Croton, the wrestler, Democedes' alleged betrothal to 
+his daughter, ΤΙ. 137 
+
+Miltiades, (1) an Athenian, son of Cypselus, his rule in the Thracian 
+Chersonese, vr. 34-38, 103 (temp. Croesus) (2) Nephew of 
+the above, son of Cimon; also ruler of the Chersonese, vi. 
+34; his advice to the Ionians to cut off Darius’ retreat from 
+Scythia, rV. 137; his escape from the Scythians, v1. 40; from 
+the Phoenicians, vi. 41; one of the ten generals at Marathon, 
+vi. 103, 104; his decision to fight, vr. 109, 110; his attack 
+on Paros, vi. 132; conquest of Lemnos, vi. 110; his impeach- 
+ment and death, vr. 136 
+
+Milyae, old inhabitants of Lycia, 1. 173; their tribute to Persia, 
+HI. 90; in Xerxes’ army, vi. 77 
+
+Min, the first human king of Egypt, Π. 4; his embankment of 
+the Nile near Memphis, 11. 99 
+
+Minoa, in Sicily, a colony from Selinus, v. 46 
+
+Minos, king of Crete, expulsion of his brother Sarpedon, 1. 
+173; his Carian auxiliaries, 1. 141; his death in Sicily, vir. 
+169 
+
+Minyae, a people from Orchomenus, their Asiatic settlements, 
+I. 146; adventures of Minyan descendents of the Argonants 
+in Lacedaemon and the western Peloponnese, Iv. 145-148; 
+the first Battus of Cyrene a Minyan, 1v. 150 
+
+Mitra, a Persian deity identified with Aphrodite, 1. 131 
+
+Mitradates, Cyrus’ foster-father, 1. 110 
+
+Mitrobates, a Persian governor at Dascyleum, killed by Oroetes, 
+ni. 126 
+
+Mnesarchus, a Samian, Iv. 95 
+
+Mnesiphilus, an Athenian, his advice to Themistocles before 
+Salamis, virt. 57 
+
+Moeris, king of Egypt, 900 years before Herodotus, m. 13; his 
+work at Memphis and elsewhere, Π. 101; lake of Moeris 
+(in the Fayyum) and labyrinth adjacent described, π. 69, 
+148, 149; revenue of Persia from it, xir. 91 
+
+Molois, a stream on or near the battlefield of Plataea, 1x. 57 
+
+Molossians, a people of Epirus, their alleged settlements in Asia, 
+I. 146 
+
+Molpagoras, a Milesian, father of Aristagoras, v. 30 
+
+Momemphis, in Egypt, battle there between Apries and Amasis, 
+ir. 163, 169 
+
+
+361 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Mophi, one of two hills alleged to be near the source of the Nile 
+(sce Crophi), 1. 28 
+
+Moschi, à tribe at the E. end of the Euxine, their tribute to 
+Persia, rr. 94; in Xerxes’ army, VIIL. 78 
+
+Mossynoeci, a tribe between Armenia and the Euxine, their 
+tribute to Persia, rrr. 94; in Xerxes’ army, VII. 78 
+
+Munychia, on the Attic coast E. of the Piraeus, the eastern 
+extremity of Xerxes’ line before Salamis, vir. 76 
+
+Murychides, a Hellespontian envoy from Mardonius to the 
+Athenians, rx. 4 
+
+Musaeus, his oracles, vir. 6, ντ. 96, ΙΧ. 43 
+
+Mycale, an Jonian promontory opposite Samos; Panionium 
+there, 1. 148; flight of Chians thither after Lade, vi. 16; 
+defeat of Persians by Greeks at Mycale, rx. 90, 96-101 
+
+Mycenaeans, at Thermopylae, vir. 202; Heraclidae and Mycen- 
+aeans, IX. 27; Mycenaeans in Pausanias’ army, ΙΧ. 31 
+
+Mycerinus, king of Egypt, son of Cheops, his virtues and mis- 
+fortunes, and his way of prolonging his life, 1. 129-132; his 
+buildings, and economic state of Egypt in his time, rr. 136 
+
+Myci, a tribe probably in the south of Persia, their tribute, 11. 
+93; in Xerxes' army, vir. 98 
+
+Myconus, an island in the Aegean, near Delos, vr. 118 
+
+Myecphorite province of Egypt, inhabited by one of the warrior 
+tribes, rr. 166 
+
+Mygdonia, a district on the Thermaic gulf, vir. 123, 127 
+
+Mylasa, a town in Caria; temple of Zeus there, 1. 171 
+
+Mylitta, an Assyrian deity identified with Aphrodite, 1. 131, 199 
+
+Myreinus, a town of the Edonians in Thrace, given to Histiaeus, 
+v. 11, 23; Aristagoras’ retreat thither, v. 126 
+
+Myriandric gulf, the bay of Issus in Asia Minor, rv. 38 
+
+Myrina, (1) an Aeolian town in Mysia, 1. 149. (2) A town in 
+Lemnos, taken by Miltiades, vr. 140 
+
+Myrmex (the Ant), name of a reef between Magnesia and Sciathus, 
+ΥΠ. 183 
+
+Myron, grandfather of Cleisthenes of Sicyon, vi. 126 
+
+Myrsilus, Greek name for Candaules, despot of Sardis, 1. 7 
+
+Myrsus, (1) father of Candaules, 1. 7. (2) A Lydian emissary 
+of Oroetes, 11. 122; his death in battle in Caria, v. 121 
+
+Mys, a man of Europus sent by Mardonius to consult oracles, 
+vir. 133-135 
+
+Mysia, plagued by a wild boar, r 36; Mysians “‘ brothers " of 
+the Carians, 1. 171; their tribute to Persia, m1. 90; legendary 
+
+
+362 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Mysian and Teucrian invasion of Europe, Υπ. 20; Mysians 
+in Xerxes’ army, vii. 74; with Mardonius at Plataea, ΙΧ. 32 
+Mytilene, in Lesbos; a Lydian refugee there, 1. 160; an Aeolian 
+town, 11. 178; Mytilenaeans killed by Egyptians, in war with 
+Cambyses, Ιπ. 13; execution by Mytilenaeans of their despot 
+Coés, v. 11, 38; Mytilene and Athens reconciled by Periander, 
+v. 95; Histiaeus at Mytilene, vr. 5 
+
+Myus, an Ionian town in Caria, r. 142; Ionian despots arrested 
+at Myus, v. 36; its contingent in the Ionian fleet, v1. 8 
+
+
+Naparis, a northern tributary of the Danube, 1v. 48 
+
+Nasamones, à Libyan people near Cyrene, 11. 32; story of their 
+passage of the Libyan desert, 1b.; their customs, Iv. 172, 
+182, 190 
+
+Nathos, an Egyptian province in the Delta, partly inhabited 
+by one of the warrior tribes, rr. 165 
+
+Naucratis, in the west of the Delta, near the sea, 1. 97; its 
+courtesans, 11. 135; its importance as a port, and Greek settle- 
+ment there, 11. 178-180 
+
+Nauplia, a town on the sea-coast of Argolis, v1. 76 
+
+Naustrophus, a Megarian, 111. 60 
+
+Naxos, in the Aegean, subdued by Pisistratus, 1. 64; its wealth 
+and civil dissensions, and proposed annexation by the Persians, 
+v. 28-33; devastated by Datis, vr. 96; desertion of Naxian 
+ships to the Greek fleet, vi. 46. Naxians of Sicily, annexed 
+by Hippocrates of Gela, vir. 154 
+
+Nea; a “new town," (1) in Upper Egypt, 11.91. (2) In Pallene, 
+vir. 123 
+
+Necos, (1) father of Psammetichus, king of Egypt, killed by 
+Sabacos, Ἡ. 152. (2) Son of Psammetichus; his canal from 
+the Nile to the Red Sea, rr. 158; despatch of Phoenicians to 
+cireumnavigate Africa, 1v. 42 
+
+Nelidae, descendants of Neleus of Pylus; the Pisistratids so 
+described, v. 65 
+
+Neocles, an Athenian, father of Themistocles, vir. 143 
+
+Neon, a town below one of the peaks of Parnassus, ΥΠΙ. 32 
+
+Neon teichos (New Fort), an Aeolian town in Asia Minor, 1. 149 
+
+Nereids, worship of them unknown in Egypt, τι. 50; deities of 
+the Sepias promontory, propitiated by the Magi to abate a 
+storm, ΥΠ. 191 
+
+Nesaean plain in Media, Υπ. 40; horses bred there, 111. 106, 
+ridden in Xerxes’ army and at Plataea, vu. 40, 1x. 20 
+
+
+363 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Nestor, of Pylus, the Homeric hero, ancestor of Pisistratus, 
+v. 65 
+
+Nestus, a river in Thrace flowing past Abdera, crossed by Xerxes, 
+vir. 109; no lions in Europe E. of it, Υπ. 126 
+
+Neuri, northern neighbours of the Scythians, rv. 17, 100; said 
+to turn into wolves, rv. 105; their part in the war with Darius, 
+TV 119, 125 
+
+Nicandra, youngest of the priestesses of Dodona, Π. 55 
+
+Nicandrus, a king of Sparta, virr. 131 
+
+Nicodromus of Aegina, his attempted betrayal of Aegina to 
+Athens, vr. 88, 90 
+
+Nicolaus, (1) a Spartan, vir. 134. (2) Son of Bulis and grand- 
+son of the above, a victim of the vengeance of Talthybius on 
+the Spartans, ΥΠ. 137 
+
+Nile; lower Egypt perhaps the deposit of the Nile, τι. 10; height 
+of inundation, irr. 11; Delta and Nile mouths, τι. 17; theories 
+of the Nile flood, τι. 19-27; known course of the river, ΙΙ. 
+28-30; its upper waters, and comparison of Nile and Danube, 
+π. 31-34; Nile flood and fish, τι. 93; flood below Memphis, 
+11. 97; Min's embankment, 11. 99; Nile connected with the 
+lake of Moeris, 11. 149; Necos’ canal from Nile to Red Sea, 
+11. 158, nr. 42; Nile mouths all closed to trade except one, 
+formerly, 11. 179; Nile one of the boundaries of the world, 
+Iv. 45; Nile and Danube compared in respect of volume of 
+water, IV. 50; source of the Nile unknown, rv. 53. A priest- 
+hood of the Nile, τι. 90 
+
+Nileus, son of Codrus, his foundation of Miletus, rx. 97 
+
+Ninus, (1) son of Belus and king of Assyria, τ. 7, Π. 150. 
+(2) Nineveh; taken by the Medes, r 106, 185; capital of 
+Assyria, superseded by Babylon, 1. 178; on the Tigris, 1. 193; 
+robbery of Sardanapalus’ treasures there, 11. 150 
+
+Nipsaei, a Thracian tribe of Salmydessus, their submission to 
+Darius, Iv. 93 
+
+Nisaea, the port of Megara, taken by the Athenians, 1. 59 
+
+Nisyros, an island 5. of Cos, its ships under Artemisia’s command, 
+vir. 99 
+
+Nitetis, daughter of Apries; one of Cambyses’ wives, rrr. 1 
+
+Nitocris, (1) an Egyptian queen; her revenge for her brother’s 
+death, rr. 100. (2) Queen of Babylon; her treatment of the 
+Euphrates, 1. 185 
+
+Noés, a Thracian tributary of the Danube, rv. 49 
+
+Nonacris, a town in Arcadia, near the * water of Styx," γι. 74 
+
+
+364 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Nothon, an Eretrian, vr. 100 
+
+Notium, an Aeolian town in Asia Minor, r. 149 
+
+Nudium, a town in the W. of the Peloponnese, founded by the 
+Minyae, rv. 148 
+
+Nymphodorus, of Abdera, his betrayal of Spartan envoys to 
+the Athenians, vir. 137 
+
+Nysa, in Ethiopia, ealled “ the sacred,” its cult of Dionysus, m. 
+146, τι. 97 
+
+
+Oarizus, a Persian, ΥΠ. 71 
+
+Oarus, a river in Scythia running into the Palus Maeotis, rv. 
+123 
+
+Oasis, a town eight days west of the Egyptian Thebes (apparently 
+the modern ** Great oasis " of Khargeh), inhabited by Samians ; 
+reached by Cambyses’ force sent against the Ammonians, 
+nr. 26 
+
+Oaxus, a town in Crete, ruled by Etearehus, rv. 154 
+
+Oceanus, the eirele of sea (or river) supposed to surround the 
+whole world; this theory questioned by Herodotus, πι. 21, 
+23, 1v. 8, 36 
+
+Octamasades, a king of Scythia; his murder of his brother 
+Seyles, rv. 80 
+
+Oeytus, a Corinthian, father of Adimantus, viir. 5 
+
+Odomanti, a Thracian or Paeonian tribe inhabiting the range 
+of Pangaeum, v. 16 (if the reading be right), vir. 112 
+
+Odrysae, a Thracian tribe on Darius’ route to the Danube, 
+IV. 92 
+
+Odyssey, quoted by Herodotus, 11. 116, τν. 29 
+
+Oea, a place in Aegina; figures of Damia and Auxesia carried 
+thither, v. 83 
+
+Oebares, (1) Darius’ groom; his trick to ensure Darius’ election 
+as king, 11. 85-88. (2) Persian governor at Dascyleum, son 
+of Megabazus, γι. 33 
+
+Oedipus, son of Laius of Thebes, his “ avenging deities,” Iv. 
+149; v. 60 
+
+Oenoe, a northern division of Attica, taken by the Bocotians, 
+v. 74 
+
+Oenone, ancient name of Aegina, VIII. 46 
+
+Oenotria, the toe of Italy, τ. 167 
+
+Oenussae, islands between Chios and Asia Minor; the Phocaeans' 
+proposal to buy them from Chios, 1. 165 
+
+Oeobazus, (1) a Persian, Darius’ cruel treatment of him, tv. 84. 
+
+
+365 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+(2) A Persian, father of Siromitres, vir 68. (3) A Persian 
+fugitive from the Greeks in Thrace, his death there, rx. 115, 
+119 
+
+Oeolycus, son of Theras of Sparta; origin of his name, rv. 149 
+
+Oéroé, a tributary of the Asopus, on or near the battlefield of 
+Plataea, rx. 51 
+
+Oeta, the mountain range S. of Thermopylae, vu. 176, 217 
+
+Oetosyrus, a variant of Goetosyrus, q.v. 
+
+Olbiopolitae, Greek name for the people of the Borysthenite 
+port (Olbia) on the Euxine, Iv. 18 
+
+Olen, a Lycian hymn-writer, Iv. 35 
+
+Olenus, a town on the seacoast of Achaea, 1. 145 
+
+Oliatus of Mylasa, his seizure by the Ionians, v. 37 
+
+Olophyxus, a town on the promontory of Athos, vir. 22 
+
+Olorus, a Thracian king, father-in-law of the younger Miltiades, 
+vi. 39 
+
+Olympia, offerings there, vir 170, 1x. 81; sacrifice to obtain 
+oracles, VIII. 134 
+
+Olympic games, 1. 59; before battle of Thermopylae, vu. 206; 
+of Salamis, vim. 72; victories won by Philippus, v. 47; Cylon, 
+v. 71; Miltiades the elder, vr. 36; Demaratus, vr. ΤΟ; Cimon, 
+γι. 103; Callias, νι. 122; Alemeon, vi. 125; Cleisthenes, vi. 
+126; Hieronymus, ΙΧ. 33; crown of olive given as the prize, 
+vill. 26; management of games by Eleans, n. 160, vr. 127; 
+competition limited to Greeks, v. 22 
+
+Olympiodorus, an Athenian leader at Plataea, rx. 21 
+
+Olympus, Mount, (1) in Thessaly, r. 56; northern boundary of 
+Thessaly, ΥΠ. 129; pass between Olympus and Ossa, vir. 
+173. (2) In Mysia; haunted by a wild boar, 1. 36, 43; 
+Mysians called Olympians, vr. 74 
+
+Olynthus, in Chalcidice, Υπ. 122; besieged and taken by Arta- 
+bazus, vin. 127 
+
+Ombrici, the people of central and northern Italy; Lydian 
+settlement there, I. 94; source of a river Alpis in the country 
+above the Ombriei, 1v. 49 
+
+Oneatae, name given to a Sicyonian tribe by Cleisthenes, v. 68 
+
+Onesilus, a leader in the Cyprian revolt against Darius, v. 104, 
+108; his duel, and death in battle, v. 110-115 
+
+Onetes of Carystus, Herodotus’ denial that he was the Persians’ 
+guide over the Anopaea pass at Thermopylae, vir. 214 
+
+Onochonus, a river in Thessaly alleged to have been drunk dry 
+by Xerxes’ army, vil. 129, 196 
+
+
+366 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Onomacritus, an Athenian purveyor or forger of oracles, at 
+Xerxes' court, VII. 7 
+
+Onomastus of Elis, a suitor for Cleisthenes' daughter, νι. 127 
+
+Onuphite province of Egypt, inhabited by one of the warrior 
+tribes, 11. 166 
+
+Ophryneum, a town in the Troad, vir. 43 
+
+Opis, (1) a town on the Tigris (at the highest point of navigation), 
+I 189. (2) One of the Hyperborean pilgrims to Delos, 1v. 35 
+
+Opoea, wife of Ariapithes and afterwards Scyles of Scythia, 
+IV. 78 
+
+Opuntians, see Locrians. 
+
+Orbelus, à mountain in Thrace, in the neighbourhood of the 
+lake-dwellers, v. 16 
+
+Orchomenus, (1) in Arcadia; its contingent at Thermopylae, 
+vir. 202; at Plataea, 1x. 28. (2) In Boeotia; Minyans there, 
+I. 146; territory overrun by Persians, virt. 34 
+
+Ordessus, à Scythian tributary of the Danube, 1v. 48 
+
+Orestes, son of Agamemnon, discovery of his tomb at Tegea, 
+I. 67 
+
+Orestheum, apparently on the route from Sparta to Megalopolis, 
+Ix. il 
+
+Orgeus, a Thasian, vir. 118 
+
+Oricus, son of Ariapithes, king of Scythia, 1v. 78 
+
+Oricus, the port of Apollonia in N.W. Greece, rx. 93 
+
+Orithyia, legendary daughter of Erechtheus and wife of Boreas, 
+vir. 189 
+
+Orneatae, inhabitants of Orneae in Argolis, of inferior status 
+like the Spartan Perioeci, vrir. 73 
+
+Oroetes, Persian governor of Sardis, his treacherous murder of 
+Polyerates, 111. 120-125; his downfall and death, 11. 126-129 
+
+Oromedon, a Cilician, ΥΠ. 98 
+
+Oropus, on the Attic coast opposite Euboea, vi. 101 
+
+Orotalt, an Arabian deity identified with Dionysus, ΙΠ. 8 
+
+Orphic rites, their similarity to Egyptian, rr. 81 
+
+Orsiphantus, a Spartan, vir. 227 
+
+Orus, an Egyptian deity, identified with Apollo, q.v. 
+
+Osiris, identified with Dionysus, q.v. 
+
+Ossa, à mountain in Thessaly, 1. 56; separated from Olympus 
+by the Peneus, ΥΠ. 128, 173 
+
+Otanes, (1) a Persian, father of Xerxes’ wife Amestris, ΥΠ. 40, 
+61, 82. (2) A Persian, made a judge in place of his father 
+Sisamnes by Cambyses, v. 25; his command against the 
+
+
+367 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Jonian rebels, v. 116, 123. (3) A Persian, son of Pharnaspes, 
+originator of the conspiracy against the Magians, 11. 68-19: 
+his advocacy of democracy for Persia, 111. 80; surrender of 
+his claim to be king, ΤΠ. 83; Darius’ father-in-law, 11. 88; 
+in command in Samos, ΙΙ. 144—147 
+
+Otaspes, a Persian officer in Xerxes’ army, vir. 63 
+
+Othryades, the one survivor of 300 Lacedaemonians in a battle 
+with 300 Argives, 1. 82 
+
+Othrys, the range forming the S. boundary of Thessaly, vr. 129 
+
+Ozolae, see Locrians. 
+
+
+Pactolus, a river flowing through Sardis, v. 101 
+
+Pactya, a town at the head of the Thracian Chersonese, vi. 36 
+
+Pactyes, a leader of a Lydian revolt against Cyrus, 1. 154; his 
+surrender to the Persians, 1. 1601 
+
+Pactyés, a people in the E. of the Persian empire, near India; 
+Scylax’ voyage thence down the Indus, Iv. 44; in Xerxes’ 
+army, ΥΠ. 67; another “‘ Pactyice " near Armenia, its tribute 
+to Persia, rir. 93 
+
+Padaei, an Indian tribe, said to be cannibals, 111. 99 
+
+Paeanian deme of Attica, 1. 60 
+
+Paeonia, (1) a country west of Thrace, 1v. 49; its war with 
+Perinthus, v. 1; conquest and removal of Paeonians by 
+Persians, v. 12-17, 23; their return, v. 98; on Xerxes’ 
+route, vil. 113, 124; in Xerxes’ army, vir. 185, 1x. 32; their 
+theft of Xerxes’ chariot, vi. 115; Paeonian sacrifices, Iv. 33. 
+(2) A place in Attica at the foot of Mt. Parnes, v. 62 
+
+Pacoplae, a Paeonian tribe, v. 15; on Xerxes’ route, vu. 113 
+
+Paesus, a Hellespontian town taken by the Persians in the Ionic 
+revolt, v. 117 
+
+Paeti, a Thracian tribe on Xerxes’ route, vir. 110 
+
+Paeum (or Paeus), a town in N.W. Arcadia, νι. 127 
+
+Pagasae, at the head of the Pagasaean gulf in Magnesia, a station 
+of Xerxes’ fleet, vir. 193 
+
+Paleés, a people of Cephallenia; in Pausanias’ army, ΙΧ. 28 
+
+Palestine, in Syria, 1. 105; circumcision practised there, τι. 104; 
+pillars set up there by Sesostris, 11. 106; Syrians of Palestine 
+in Xerxes’ fleet, vu. 89 
+
+Pallas, see Athene; Libyan and “ Palladian " worship, rv. 189 
+
+Pallene, one of the promontories of Chalcidice, vir 123; its 
+people attacked by Artabazus, ΥΠ. 126-129 
+
+Pamisus, a river in ‘Thessaly, ΥΠ. 129 
+
+
+309 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Pammon of Scyros, his guidance of the Persian fleet to Mag- 
+nesia, VII. 183 
+
+Pamphyli, name assumed by a Dorian tribe at Sicyon, v. 68 
+
+Pamphylia, in Asia Minor, subdued by Croesus, 1. 28; tribute 
+to Persia, ru. 90; contingent in Xerxes’ army, vir. 91; dis- 
+paraged by Artemisia, vir. 68 
+
+Pan, one of the “ youngest" Greek gods, n. 145; his cult at 
+Athens, vi. 105; identified with the Egyptian Mendes, mr. 
+42, 46, 145 
+
+Panaetius of Tenos, his news of the Persian encirclement of 
+Salamis, vir. 82 
+
+Panathenaea, a festival celebrated every fourth year at Athens; 
+murder of Hipparchus at it, v. 56 
+
+Pandion, a legendary Athenian, father of Lycus the hero of the 
+Lycians, 1. 173 
+
+Pangaeum, a mountain range in Thrace, v. 16, vi. 112 
+
+Panionia, the festival of the Ionian stock, 1. 148 
+
+Panionium, an Ionian place of meeting for council or ceremonial, 
+near Mycale, t. 148, 170, v1. 7 
+
+Panionius of Chios, his crime and punishment, vir. 105, 106 
+
+Panites, a Messenian, his advice to the Spartans about the royal 
+succession, vI. 52 
+
+Panopeus, on the borders of Phocis and Boeotia, Xerxes' army 
+there, vir. 34 
+
+Panormus, a harbour near Miletus, 1. 157 
+
+Pantagnotus, brother of, and put to death by Polycrates of Samos, 
+nr. 39 
+
+Pantaleon, half brother of Croesus, put to death by him for 
+conspiracy, I. 92 
+
+Pantares, a man of Gela, vir. 154 
+
+Panthialaei, a Persian tribe, 1. 125 
+
+Panticapes, a river in Scythia east of the Borystkenes, iv. 18, 
+47, 54 
+
+Pantimathi, a tribe in the Persian empire, S. of the Caspian, 
+their tribute, 111. 92 
+
+Pantites, said to have been sent as a messenger to Sparta from 
+Thermopylae, vir. 232 
+
+Papaeus, a Scythian deity identified with Zeus, rv. 59 
+
+Paphlagonians, west of the Halys in N. Asia Minor, 1. 6, 72; 
+their tribute to Persia, ΙΙ. 90; in Xerxes’ army, ΥΠ. 72 
+
+Paphos, Paphian ships in Xerxes' fleet, vir. 195 
+
+Papremis, a town in Egypt, its cult of Ares, 1r. 59; ceremonial 
+
+
+369 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+there, 11. 63; '"'river-horses" sacred in the province, Π. 71; 
+inhabited by one of the warrior tribes, 11. 71; a battle there 
+between Persians and Egyptians, ΙΙ. 12 
+
+Paraebates, a Spartan with Dorieus in Sicily, v. 46 
+
+Paralatae, a race of Scythian kings, Iv. 6 
+
+Parapotamii, a town in Phocis burnt by the Persians, vri. 33 
+
+Paretaceni, a Median tribe, 1. 101 
+
+Paricanii, a people in the S.E. of the Persian empire, tribute 
+to Persia, 111. 92, 94; in Xerxes’ army, vir. 68, 86 
+
+Parium, a town on the Asiatic coast of the Hellespont, v. 117 
+
+Parmys, daughter of Smerdis and wife of Darius, 111. 68, vir. 78 
+
+Parnassus, the mountain above Delphi, à refuge for the Del- 
+phians, vir. 27, 32, 1x. 31; repulse of Persians there, vir. 57 
+
+Paroreatae, a people of the west of the Peloponnese, Iv. 148; 
+of Lemnian origin, vii. 73 
+
+Paros, one of the Cyclades, Parian settlement of the troubles 
+of Miletus, v. 28, 29; Miltiades’ repulse from Paros, vi. 133- 
+135; neutrality of Parians in the Persian war, ΥἹΠ. 67; their 
+bribe to Themistocles, virr. 112; Parian marble, v. 62 
+
+Parthenium, a mountain in Arcadia, vision of Pan seen there by 
+Phidippides, v1. 105 
+
+Parthenius, a river in the west of Paphlagonia, Syrians in its 
+neighbourhood, 11. 104 
+
+Parthians, S.E. of the Caspian, their tribute to Persia, ru. 93; 
+in Xerxes’ army, VII. 66 
+
+Pasargadae, a Persian tribe, 1. 125 
+
+Pasicles, probably an Athenian, rx. 97 
+
+Pataeci, Phoenician images of dwarfs, 111. 37 
+
+Pataecus, a man of Acragas, vir. 154 
+
+Patara, in Lycia, a custom of the temple there, 1. 182 
+
+Patarbemis, an Egyptian, his message from Apries to Amasis, 
+and cruel treatment by Apries, rr. 162 
+
+Patiramphes, Xerxes' eharioteer, son of Otanes, vri. 40 
+
+Patizeithes, brother of the pretended Smerdis, his plot to make 
+his brother king, Im. 61 
+
+Patrae, a town on the seacoast of Achaea, 1. 145 
+
+Patumus, an “ Arabian ” town, a little way west of the modern 
+Ismailia, canal from the Nile near it, rr. 158 
+
+Pausanias, son of Cleombrotus and grandson of Anaxandrides 
+king of Sparta, rx. 10; mentioned repeatedly as leader of the 
+Greeks against Mardonius, rx. 10—82; (personal allusions) his 
+proposal to the Athenians for a rearrangement of the battle 
+
+
+379 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+line, ΙΧ. 46; special appeal to Athenians, ΙΧ. 60; instance 
+of his generosity and courtesy, 1x. 76, 79; bronze caldron 
+dedicated by him on the Bosporus, tv. 81; his pride and 
+ambition after the Persian war, v. 32, VIII. 3 
+
+Pausicac, a tribe S. of the Caspian; their tribute to Persia, 
+ΠΠ. 92 
+
+Pausiris, an Egyptian, permitted by the Persians to succeed to 
+the governorship of his rebel father Amyriaeus, 111. 15 
+
+Pedasus (or Pedasa), a place in Caria, v. 121, vi. 20; singular 
+story of a priestess there, 1. 175, vin. 104 
+
+Pedieis, a Phocian town burnt by the Persians, vin. 33 
+
+Pelasgian, a name applied by Herodotus to the oldest known 
+inhabitants and remains in Greece, contrasted with ‘‘ Hellenic,” 
+1.56; Pelasgian language probably non-Greek, 1.57; Pelasgian 
+forts, τδ.; Arcadia Pelasgian, 1. 146; deities, 11. 50-52; Hellas 
+formerly called Pelasgia, 11. 56; expulsion of Minyae by 
+Pelasgians, iv. 145; Lemnos and Imbros Pelasgian, v. 26; 
+expulsion of Pelasgi from Attica, vr. 137-139; cp. v. 64 and 
+vii. 44 
+
+Peleus, Thetis carried off by him from Magnesia, vir. 191 
+
+Pelion, the Argo built there, rv. 179; Pelion and Ossa in the 
+E. of Thessaly, vir. 129; wreck of Xerxes’ fleet near Pelion, 
+vin. 8, 12 
+
+Pella, a town in Macedonia, ΥΠ. 123 
+
+Pellene, an Achaean town, near Sicyon, 1. 145 
+
+Peloponnese, migration of Dorians thither, 1. 56, 11. 171; most 
+of the Peloponnese subject to Sparta temp. Croesus, I. 68; 
+Peloponnesian tale of Anacharsis, Iv. 77; Peloponnesian 
+invasion of Attica, v. 74; Peloponnesian scale of ransom, 
+vi. 79; security of property there, vr. 86; contingents at 
+Thermopylae, vir. 202; Peloponnesians anxious to guard the 
+Isthmus, vin. 40, 49, 71, 1x. 8; contingents at Salamis, VIII. 
+43; Artemisia’s advice to Xerxes about the Peloponnese, vrn. 
+68; various nations of Peloponnese, vill. 73; prophecy of 
+expulsion of Dorians, vi. 141; Peloponnesian armies in 
+antiquity, Ix. 26; Athenian jealousy of Peloponnesians, Ix. 
+106; Peloponnesian return from Mycale, 1x. 114 (other reff. 
+of less importance) 
+
+Pelops, called by Xerxes a Phrygian settler in Greece, ΥΠ. 8, 11; 
+Pelopides a title of Agamemnon, vir. 159 
+
+Pelusium, at the E. mouth of the Nile, near the Arabian frontier 
+of Egypt, 1r. 15, 141; Pelusian mouth, τι. 17; Greek settle- 
+
+
+371 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+ments there, 11. 151; Psammenitus’ encampment there in 
+Cambyses’ invasion, 11. 10 
+
+Penelope, Pan said to be her son, 11. 145, 146 
+
+Penéus, a river in Thessaly, limit of the legendary Mysian and 
+Teucrian invasion from Asia, vir. 20; its mouth viewed by 
+Xerxes, vir. 128; pass into Thessaly along its banks, vit. 
+173 
+
+Penthylus, his command of Paphian ships in Xerxes' fleet, cap- 
+tured by the Greeks, vir. 195 
+
+Percalus, daughter of Chilon of Sparta, betrothed to Leuty- 
+chides but carried off by Demaratus, vi. 65 
+
+Percote, a town on the Hellespont taken by the Persians in the 
+Ionic revolt against Darius, v. 117 
+
+Perdiccas, Υ. 22; his escape from Lebaea and establishment of 
+the Temenid dynasty in Macedonia, vir. 137-139 
+
+Pergamum, the ancient citadel of Troy, Xerxes’ visit to it, 
+vil. 43 
+
+Pergamus, a Thracian fort, Xerxes’ route past it, ντ. 112 
+
+Perialla, a Delphian priestess, deprived of her offiee for fraud, 
+vi. 66 
+
+Periander, despot of Corinth, son of Cypselus, his warning to 
+Thrasybulus, 1. 20; reception of the minstrel Arion, 1. 23, 
+24; his quarrel with his son, and revenge upon the Coreyraeans, 
+IH. 48-53; his tyranny and cruelty, v. 92; his reconcilement 
+of Athens and Mytilene, v. 95 
+
+Pericles of Athens, his Alemeonid parentage, vi. 131 
+
+Perilaus, a Sicyonian leader killed at Mycale, 1x. 103 
+
+Perinthus, an European town on the Propontis, Iv. 90; its war 
+with the Paeonians and conquest by the Persians, v. 1, 2; 
+burnt by Phoenicians, vi. 33 
+
+Perioeci, Laconians inferior in status to the Spartans, their 
+attendance at royal funerals, vr. 58; their contingent in the 
+Spartan army, ΙΧ, 1] 
+
+Perphereés (= carriers), officials at Delos, their connection with 
+the story of communication between Delos and the Hyper- 
+boreans, 1v. 33 
+
+Perrhacbi, a Thessalian tribe, Xerxes’ passage through their 
+country from Macedonia, vir. 128, 131, 173; in Xerxes’ army, 
+vir. 185 
+
+Perses, son of Perseus, the eponymous hero of the Persians, ΥΠ. 
+61, 150 
+
+Perseus, son of Danaé, vir 61, 150; his supposed Egyptian 
+
+
+372 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+origin and temple at Chemmis, τι. 91; Persian belief that he 
+was an Assyrian, VI. 53, 51; '' Perseus’ watchtower ” alleged 
+to be in the west of the Delta, τι. 15 
+
+Persians: their stories of Greek wrong-doing, 1. 1-5; conquest 
+of Lydia, 1. 75-85; liberation from the Medes, 1. 123-130; 
+Persian tribes, 1. 125; customs, 1. 131-140, νι. 58, 59, IX. 
+110; hostilities against Ionians, 1. 154-177; capture of Baby- 
+lon, 1. 188-191; campaign against Massagetae, 1. 201-214; 
+against Egypt, 11. 1; Persians under Cambyses and Darius, 
+see abstract of Book πι, specific reff.; Persian judges, rr. 
+31; freedom of Persia from taxation, 111. 97; its geographical 
+situation, Iv. 37; Persian eampaign in Scythia, tv. 1, 83-142; 
+Persians in Libya, 1v. 200-205. General history of Persian 
+doings in remaining Books, see abstracts in Introductions to 
+Vols. HI and IV. Specific reff. in later books: origin of Persians, 
+vi. 53, 54, vir. ΟΙ, 150; Persian council, vir. 8; armour, vir. 
+61; Persian and Spartan customs compared, vr. 58, 59; 
+Cyrus’ counsel to the Persians, 1x. 122 
+
+Persidae, Achaemenid kings of Persia so called, 1. 125 
+
+Petra, a deme or district of Corinth, v. 92 
+
+Phaedyme, daughter of Otanes, her discovery about the pseudo- 
+Smerdis, ΙΠ. 68, 69 
+
+Phaenippus, an Athenian, father of Callias, v1. 121 
+
+Phagres, a Pierian fort in Thrace, Xerxes’ route past it, vir. 112 
+
+Phalerum, a port of Attica, v. 116; scene of a battle between 
+the Pisistratids and the Spartans, v. 63; destroyed by Aegine- 
+tans, v. 81; Xerxes’ fleet there, vir. 66, 1x. 32; flight of 
+Persian ships thither, vin. 91 
+
+Phanagoras, a man of Carystus, vi. 214 
+
+Phanes, a Halicarnassian, his desertion from Amasis to Cambyses 
+and its punishment, m1. 4, 11 
+
+Pharae, a town in Achaea, 1. 145 
+
+Pharandates, a Persian officer in Xerxes’ army, ΥΠ. 79; story 
+of his Greek concubine, 1x. 76 
+
+Pharbaithite province of Egypt, inhabited by one of the warrior 
+tribes, rr. 166 
+
+Pharnaees, a Persian, father of Artabazus, vir. 66 et al. 
+
+Pharnaspes, a Persian, father of Otanes, and of Cyrus' wife 
+Cassandane, ΙΙ. 1, 111. 2, 68 
+
+Pharnazathres, a Persian officer in Xerxes’ army, vi. 65 
+
+Pharnuches, a Persian officer in Xerxes’ army, his accident at 
+Sardis, vir. SS 
+
+
+373 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Phaselis, à Dorian town of Asia Minor, its part in the Greek 
+settlement at Naucratis, rr. 178 
+
+Phasis, a river in Colchis at the E. end of the Euxine, ιν. 37; 
+the Argonauts there, r. 2; distance from the Palus Maeotis, 
+1. 104; Sesostris army there, 11. 103; boundary of Europe 
+and Asia, 1v. 46 
+
+Phaj‘llus of Croton, a victor in the Pythian games, captain of 
+the one ship from Sicily or Italy in the Greek fleet, vim. 47 
+
+Phegeus, an ancestor of kings of Tegea, 1x. 26 
+
+Pheneüs, a town in Arcadia near the “ water of Styx,” γι. 74 
+
+Pherendates, a Persian officer in Xerxes’ army, vir. 67 
+
+Pheretime, wife of Arcesilaus, her banishment from Cyrene and 
+appeal to Cyprus, Iv. 162; to Persia, Iv. 165, 167; her revenge 
+and death, τν. 202, 205 
+
+Pheros, king of Egypt, son of Sesostris, his blindness and its 
+cure, II. 111 
+
+Phidippides, an Athenian messenger to Sparta, his vision of 
+Pan, vi. 105 
+
+Phidon, despot of Argos, father of Leocedes, vr. 127 
+
+Phigalea, a town in Arcadia; a seer from it, vr. 83 
+
+Philaeus, son of Aias, an Athenian, ancestor of Miltiades, vr. 35 
+
+Philagrus of Eretria, his betrayal of that place to the Persians, 
+vi. 101 
+
+Philaon, a Cyprian in Xerxes’ fleet, his capture by the Greeks, 
+vin. 11 
+
+Philes, a Samian, ΙΙ. 60 
+
+Philippus, (1) king of Macedonia, son of Argaeus, vir. 139. 
+(2) A man of Croton, son of Butacides, his victory at Olympia, 
+physieal beauty, and death with Dorieus in Sicily, v. 47 
+
+Philistus, his foundation of a temple of Demeter near Mycale, 
+IX. 97 
+
+Philition, a shepherd alleged by the Egyptians to have built the 
+Pyramids, 11. 128 
+
+Philocyon, a Spartan distinguished in the battle of Plataea, 1x. 
+11, 85 
+
+Philocyprus, a Cyprian of Soli, a friend of Solon, v. 113 
+
+Phla, an island in the Tritonis lake in Libya, 1v. 178 
+
+Phlegra, ancient name of Pallene, vir. 123 
+
+Phlius, a town in Argolis, its contingent at Thermopylae, vit. 
+202; at Plataea, rx. 28, 31; losses in the latter battle, rx. 
+69, 85 
+
+Phocaea, an Ionian seaport in Lydia, 1. 142; Phocaean enter- 
+
+
+374 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+pure in the western Mediterranean, 1. 163; town captured 
+
+y Persians, 1. 164; flight of Phocaeans to Corsica, and their 
+adventures there, τ. 165, 166; Phocaeans at Naucratis, Π. 178; 
+in the Ionian fleet against Darius, vi. 8 
+
+Phocians, their fortification of Thermopylae, ΥΠ. 176; contin- 
+gent with Leonidas, vir. 203; Phocian guard on the path 
+Anopaea, vil. 217, 218; Phocian feud with Thessaly, ΥΠΙ. 
+27-30; Phocis overrun by Persians, vin. 31-33; courage of 
+a Phocian contingent in Mardonius’ army, ΙΧ. 17; Artabazus’ 
+flight to Phocis, vir. 66 (other reff. not important) 
+
+Phoebus, see Apollo. 
+
+Phoenicians, their abduction of Io, 1. 1, 5; Phoenician cult of 
+Aphrodite in Cythera, 1. 105; Phoenicians still independent 
+temp. Croesus, I. 143; their temple of Heracles in Thasos, 
+H. 44; abduction of priestesses from Egypt, 11. 54; circum- 
+cision, rr. 104; settlement at Memphis, rr. 112; reliance of 
+Persia on Phoenician ships, mr. 19; their images, ΙΙ. 37; 
+tribute to Persia, nr. 91; trade between Arabia and Greece, 
+ΠΠ. 107, 111; circumnavigation of Africa, 1v. 42; Phoenician 
+writing in Greece, v. 57, 58, cp. 11. 49; ships in Cyprian 
+revolt, v. 108, 112; in Ionian revolt, vr. 6, 14, 25, 28; attack 
+on Hellespontian towns, vr. 33; pursuit of Miltiades, vi. 41; 
+Phoenician mines in Thasos, vi. 47; work at the Athos canal, 
+vir. 23; Phoenician bridge over the Hellespont, vu. 34; 
+excellence of their ships, vi. 44, 96; their original home on 
+the Persian gulf, vri. 89; Phoenicians’ blame of Ionians at 
+Salamis, viri. 90; disparaged by Artemisia, vim. 100. Phoe- 
+nicians of Libya, rr. 32, Iv. 197; defeat of Greek colonists 
+in Sicily, v. 46; attack on Gelon there, ΥΠ. 165, 167 (other 
+less important reff.) 
+
+Phoenix, a stream near Thermopylae, vir. 176, 200 
+
+Phormus, an Athenian trierarch, his escape from the Persians, 
+vir. 182 
+
+Phraortes, (1) a Median, father of Deioces, 1. 96. (2) King of 
+Media, son of Deioces, τ. 73; his defeat and deat’ at the hands 
+of the Assyrians, 1. 102 
+
+Phratagune, one of Darius’ wives, vri. 224 
+
+Phriconian, name of Cyme in Mysia, 1. 149 
+
+Phrixae, a town in the west of the Peloponnese, founded by the 
+Minyae, Iv. 148 
+
+Phrixus, son of Athamas, the legend of his fate at Alus, vir. 
+197 
+
+
+379 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Phronime, daughter of Etearchus of Crete, the plot against her 
+life, and her escape, 1v. 151, 155 
+
+Phrygia, antiquity of the Phrygians proved by Psammetichus, 
+Il. 2; their tribute to Persia, 11. 90; “ Royal road " through 
+Phrygia, v. 52; exiled Paeonians settled there, v. 98; Xerxes' 
+route through Phrygia, ΥΠ. 26, 30; Phrygians in Xerxes’ 
+army, ΥΠ. 73; their European origin, r. 6; in Mardonius 
+army, IX. 32 
+
+Phrynon, a Theban, 1x. 16 
+
+Phryrichus, the Athenian tragedian, his play ‘“‘ Capture of 
+Miletus " suppressed, vı. 21 
+
+Phthiotis, in northern Greece, earliest home of the Dorians, 
+I. 56; its submission to Xerxes, vil. 132 
+
+Phthius, a legendary personage, son of Achaeus, 11. 98 
+
+Phya, an Athenian woman caused by Pisistratus to impersonate 
+Athene, 1. 60 
+
+Phylacus, (1) a Delphian hero, his supposed aid against the 
+Persians, vir. 39. (2) A Samian trierarch on the Persian 
+side at Salamis, vir. 85 
+
+Phyllis, a district of Thrace, on the Strymon, vit. 113 
+
+Pieres, a Thracian tribe, mines in their country, vir 112; in 
+Xerxes’ army, vil. 185 
+
+Pieria, a district of Macedonia, on Xerxes’ route, ΥΠ. 131, 177; 
+pitch from thence, 1ν. 195 
+
+Pigres, (1) brother of Mantyes, q.v., v. 12. (2) A Carian officer 
+in Xerxes’ fleet, vir. 98 
+
+Pilorus, a town on the Singitic gulf west of Athos, vir. 122 
+
+Pindar, the poet, quoted (“Custom is the lord of all”), rm. 
+38 
+
+Pindus, (1) à Thessalian town, an early home of the Dorians, 
+I. 56, vir. 93. (2) A mountain range on the W. frontier of 
+Thessaly, vri. 129 
+
+Piraeus, one of the ports of Athens, at the eastern end of 
+Xerxes’ line at the battle of Salamis, viri. 85 
+
+Pirene, à spring at Corinth, v. 92 
+
+Pirus, à river in Achaea, 1. 145 
+
+Pisa, a town in Elis, its distance from Athens, 11. 7 
+
+Pisistratus, (1) the son of Nestor of Pylus, v. 65. (2) Despot 
+of Athens; his seizure of power, 1. 59; expulsion and return, 
+I. 60; second retirement and return, and use of his power, 
+I. 61-64, vi. 35. (Elsewhere as a patronymic.) For the 
+Pisistratidae, see Hippias and Hipparchus, also v. 63-65; 
+
+
+370 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+their expulsion from Athens, at Xerxes' court, vir. 6; their 
+attempt to induce Athens to surrender, vri. 52 
+
+Pistyrus, a town in Thrace, on Xerxes’ route, vir. 109 
+
+Pitana, (1) an Aeolian town in Mysia, 1. 149. (2) A Spartan 
+township, 111. 55; a *'Pitanate battalion" in the Lacedae- 
+monian army at Plataea, ΙΧ. 53 (see Amompharetus) 
+
+Pithagoras, despot of Selinus, deposed, v. 46 
+
+Pittacus of Mytilene, one of the Seven Sages, his advice to 
+Croesus, 1. 27 
+
+Pixodarus of Cindya, his advice to the Carians on choice of a 
+battlefield, v. 118 
+
+Placia, à town of Pelasgian origin on the Hellespont, 1. 57 
+
+Plataeae (or Plataea), burnt by the Persians, vrm. 50; passim 
+in IX. in connection with military operations there (16-88). 
+Plataeans, their first alliance with Athens, v1. 108; at Mara- 
+thon, vi. 111, 113; refusal to “ medize," ντι. 132, ντι. 66; 
+(later) Theban attack on their town, ΥΠ. 233; in the Greek 
+fleet, vir. 1; but not at Salamis, vit. 44; their envoys to 
+Sparta, IX. 7; in Pausanias’ army, Ix. 28, 31 
+
+Platea, an island (modern Bomba) off Libya, occupied by the 
+earliest colonists of Cyrene, rv. 151—153, 156, 169 
+
+Pleistarchus, king of Sparta, Pausanias' ward and son of Leonidas, 
+IX. 10 
+
+Pleistorus, a god of the Thracian Apsinthians, sacrifice of a 
+Persian to him, 1x. 119 
+
+Plinthinete bay, on the coast of Egypt, near (the later) Alex- 
+andria, rr. 6 
+
+Plynus, a Libyan harbour (modern Gulf of Sollum), near the 
+west of Egypt, 1v. 168 
+
+Poeciles, a Phoenician, ancestor of the inhabitants of Thera, 
+Iv. 147 
+
+Pogon, the port of Troezen, rendezvous for Greek ships before 
+Salamis, vir. 42 
+
+Poliades, a Spartan, father of Amompharetus, 1x. 53 
+
+Polichne, in Chios, a stronghold of Histiaeus, v1. 26 
+
+Polichnitae, a people of Crete, ντι. 170 
+
+Polyas of Anticyra, a messenger between the Greeks at Arte- 
+misium and Leonidas, ΥἹΠΙ. 21 
+
+Polybus, an ancient king of Sicyon, v. 67 
+
+Polycrates, despot of Samos, son of Aeaces, his friendship with 
+Amasis, 11. 182, rrr. 39, 40; his successes and alarming good 
+luck, πι. 39-43; his war with Lacedaemon, m1. 44-46, 54-56; 
+
+
+377 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+induced to leave Samos, and murdered by Oroetes, 111. 120- 
+125 
+
+Polycritus, (1) an Aeginetan, v1.50. (2) Grandson of the above, 
+his taunt to Themistocles at Salamis, ντι. 92 
+
+Polydamna, wife of Thon of Egypt, her gifts to Helen mentioned 
+in the Odyssey, 11. 116 
+
+Polydectes, a king of Sparta, ΥἹΠ. 131 
+
+Polydorus, (1) son of Cadmus, v. 59. (2) A king of Sparta, vir. 
+204 
+
+
+Polymnestus of Thera, father of the first Battus, 1v. 150, 155 
+
+Polynices, son of Oedipus of Thebes, 1v. 147, vr. 52, 1x. 27 
+
+Pontus, see Euxine. 
+
+Porata (or Pyretus) a tributary of the Danube, probably the 
+Pruth, 1v. 48 
+
+Poseidon, unknown to the Egyptians, 11. 43, 50; the channel 
+of the Peneus his work, ΥΠ. 129; his cult at Mycale, τ. 148; 
+in Greece, vir 192, vin. 55, 123, 129, ΙΧ. 81; in Libya, rv. 
+180, 188; in Scythia (as Thagimasadas), 1v. 59 
+
+Poseidonia (Paestum, in Italy), information given by a man of 
+that place to exiled Phocaeans, 1. 167 
+
+Poseidonius, à Spartan distinguished at Plataea, 1x. 71 
+
+Posideium, (1) a town on the borders of Syria and Cilicia, 111. 91. 
+(2) A town in Thrace, vir. 115 
+
+Potidaea, a town in Pallene, vır. 123; besieged by Artabazus 
+but not taken, vin. 128, 129; Potidaeans in Pausanias’ army, 
+Ix. 28, 31 
+
+Praesii, a Cretan people, Υπ. 170 
+
+Prasiad lake, in Paeonia, description of lake-dwellings there, 
+v. 16 
+
+Prexaspes, (1) à Persian, Cambyses' agent, employed by him to 
+murder Smerdis, 111. 30, 34, 62-65; his confession and suicide, 
+πι. 74, 75. (2) A Persian officer in Xerxes’ army, son of 
+Aspathines, νη. 97 
+
+Prexilaus, a man of Halicarnassus, 1x. 107 
+
+Prexinus, captain of & Troezenian ship captured by the Persians, 
+vir. 180 
+
+Priam of Troy, 1. 3; probability of his giving up Helen, rr. 120; 
+his citadel, vir. 43 
+
+Priene, an Ionian town in Caria, 1. 142; taken by Lydians, 
+I. 15; by Persians, 1. 161; its ships in the Ionian fleet, v1. 8 
+
+Prinetades, à Spartan, Cleomenes' father-in-law, v. 41 
+
+Procles, (1) one of the twin brothers whence the dual kingship 
+
+
+378 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+at Sparta began, Iv. 147, νι. 52, vri. 131. (2) Despot of 
+Epidaurus, father-in-law of Periander of Corinth, τι. 50-52 
+
+Proconnesus, a town on the Propontis, 1v. 14; burnt by Phoe- 
+nicians, VI. 33 
+
+Promenea, a priestess at Dodona, Herodotus’ informant about 
+the connection between Dodona and Egypt, 1r. 55 
+
+Prometheus, the legendary fire-stealer, the continent of Asia 
+called after his wife, Iv. 45 
+
+Pronaea, title of Athene at Delphi, τ. 92, vri. 39 
+
+Propontis, its measurements, Iv. 85; Persian operations near 
+it, v. 122 
+
+Prosopitis, an island in the Delta, 1. 41; inhabited by one of 
+the warrior tribes, 11. 165 
+
+Protesilaus, the first Greek to fall in the 'Trojan war; his temple 
+at Elaeus deseerated by Artayetes, vIr. 33, 1x. 116, 120 
+
+Proteus of Memphis, king of Egypt, m. 112; his reception of 
+Paris and Helen, ΙΙ. 115 
+
+Protothyes, a king of Scythia, 1. 103 
+
+Prytanis, a Spartan king, vi. 131 
+
+Psammenitus, king of Egypt, son of Amasis, his defeat by Cam- 
+byses, 111. 10, 11; his behaviour in Cambyses’ presence, III. 
+14; his life spared, rir. 15 
+
+Psammetiehus, king of Egypt, son of Necos, his prevention of 
+a Scythian invasion, I. 105; his inquiry into the antiquity 
+of nations, II. 2; into the depth of the Nile source, 1. 28; 
+his frontier guards, 11. 30; banishment and restoration, ir. 
+151, 152; buildings at Memphis, and concessions to Greeks 
+there, rr. 153, 154 
+
+Psammis, king of Egypt, son of Necos, his opinion of the Olympic 
+games, II. 160 
+
+Psylli, a Libyan tribe, their destruction by a sand-storm, Iv. 
+173 
+
+Psyttalea, an islet between Salamis and Attica, Persians posted 
+there to intercept the Greeks in the battle of Salamis, virt. 
+76; their fate, vii. 95 
+
+Pteria, in Cappadocia (probably modern Boghaz Keui), taken 
+by Croesus, 1. 76 
+
+Ptoüm, a temple of Apollo (hence Apollo Ptotis), near Thebes 
+in Boeotia, oracle there consulted by Mardonius, vir. 135 
+
+Pylae, QE for Thermopylae, ΥΠ. 201 
+
+Pylaea, place of meeting (vir. 213) of the 
+
+Pylagori (10.), representatives of the “ Amphictyonic” league 
+
+
+379 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+of twelve states in N.E. Greece; their action in regard to 
+Epialtes, vir. 213 
+
+Pylus (1) in Messenia, vir. 168. (2) In Elis, 1x. 34. Pylians, 
+descendants of Nestor of Pylus, Pisistratus of that family, 
+v. 65; Caucones called Pylians, 1. 147 
+
+Pyrene, according to Herodotus a town of the Celts in western 
+
+Europe, source of the Danube said to be there, 11. 33 
+
+Pyretus, see Porata. 
+
+Pyrgus, a town in western Greece founded by the Minyae, rv. 
+148 
+
+Pythagoras, (1) the philosopher, son of Mnesarchus, Pythagorean 
+and Orphic belief, 11. 81; Zalmoxis his slave, Iv. 95. (2) A 
+Milesian, put in charge of Miletus by Aristagoras, v. 126 
+
+Pytheas, (1) an Aeginetan, son of Ischenoüs, his bravery, and 
+attention paid him by the Persians, vir. 181; his return to 
+Aegina, vim. 92. (2) An Aeginetan (apparently not the same 
+as 1), father of Lampon, 1x. 78 
+
+Pythermus, a Phocaean, spokesman at Sparta for Ionian and 
+Aeolian envoys, I. 152 
+
+Pythes, a man of Abdera, ΥΠ. 137 
+
+Pythian priestess, see Delphi. 
+
+Pythians, Spartan officials for communication with Delphi, their 
+privileges, vI. 57 
+
+Pythius, a Lydian, his offer of his wealth to Xerxes, vir. 27-29; 
+his request to Xerxes and its consequence, vir. 38, 39 
+
+Pytho, à synonym for Delphi, 1. 54 
+
+Pythogenes, brother of the despot of Zancle, his imprisonment 
+by Hippocrates, v1. 23 
+
+
+Rhampsinitus, king of Egypt, story of the theft of his treasure, 
+Π. 121 
+
+Rhegium, in southern Italy, 1. 166, vr. 23; its disaster in battle, 
+vir. 170 
+
+Rhenaea, an island near Delos, νι. 97 
+
+Rhodes, 1. 174; its part in the Greek settlement at Naucratis, 
+π. 178; Rhodian colonists in Sicily, vir. 153 
+
+Rhodope, a mountain range in Thrace, source of a tributary of 
+the Danube, Iv. 49; flight thither of a Bisaltian king, vim. 
+116 
+
+Rhodopis, a Thracian courtesan in Egypt, her offerings at Delphi, 
+Te 134, 139 
+
+Rhoecus, a Samian, builder of the Heraeum at Samos, 111. 60 
+
+
+380 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Rhoeteum, a town in the Troad, vu. 48 
+Rhypes, a town in Achaea, 1. 145 
+
+
+Sabacos, king of Ethiopia, his rule of Egypt, H- 137, 159, 152 
+
+Sabyllus, a man of Gela, his killing of Cleandf™S> VH. 154 
+
+Sacae, a tribe in the N.E. of the Persian ο Vir. 9; Cyrus 
+designs against them, 1. 153; tribute to 19518, IM. 93; at 
+Marathon, vr. 113; in Xerxes’ army, ΥΠ. t: as marines 1n 
+Xerxes’ fleet, vir. 184; with Mardonius at Plataea, ΙΧ. 31; 
+their cavalry there, 1x. 71; Masistes’ desi2 for a rebellion 
+of the Sacae, 1x. 113 
+
+Sadyattes, king of Lydia, his war with Miletu 1. 18. 
+
+Sagartii, a Persian tribe, 1. 125; tribute to {16 empire, ΠΠ. 93; 
+in Xerxes’ army, VII. 85 
+
+Sais, a town in the Delta, the temple scribe there, 11. 28, cp 
+u. 130; worship of ‘‘ Athene," τι. 59, 66; Aprics’ palace 
+there, 11. 163; Saite province, 11. 152; in 1abited by one of 
+the warrior tribes, 1. 165; Amasis’ additi? to the temple, 
+Π. 175; Cambyses’ treatment of Amasis’ body at Sais, rmn. 
+16; Saitic mouth of the Nile, τι. 17 
+
+Salamis, (1) island off Attica, Cyprian colonist? from thence, ΥΠ. 
+90; Delphian oracle respecting it, vrr. 141; Greek fleet there, 
+vi. 40-97 (many reff. in these chapters to calamis, in respect 
+of debates there, and the battle itself); return of Greeks to 
+Salamis after cruising in the Aegean, vir, 121; Athenians 
+still at Salamis, rx. 4-6; their return to Attica IX. 19. (2) A 
+town in Cyprus, flight of Pheretime thither !V- 162; Salamis 
+in the Cyprian revolt, v. 104, 108; battlé near it, v. 110; 
+desertion of Salaminians to the Persians, v: 113; restoration 
+of the king of Salamis, v. 115 
+
+Sale, a Samothracian fort near Doriscus, VII. 59 US ; 
+
+Salmoxis (or Zalmoxis) a teacher of belief in immortality, 
+deified by the Getae, rv. 94; his possible Connection with 
+Pythagoras, 1v. 95, 96 E Ρ 
+
+Salmydessus, in Thrace, on the Euxine, its sub!!isston to Darius, 
+Iv. 93 : 
+
+Samius, a Spartan, son of Archias, so called i commemoration 
+of his father's honours won in Samos, 111. 55 
+
+Samos, island and town, Samians' alleged theft from Spartans, 
+1. 70; an Ionian settlement, τ. 142; temple of Here there, 
+IL. 148, 182, mr. 60; Samian share in the settlement at Nau- 
+cratis, 1. 178; Polycrates’ despotism in S2™0S, ΠΙ. 39, 40; 
+
+
+391 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Lacedaemonian attack on Samos, 111. 44-40, 54-59; Samian 
+aqueduct, rri. 60; fate of Polycrates, 111. 120-123; conquest 
+of Samos by Persians, ni. 142-149; Salmoxis at Samos, Iv. 
+95; flight of Arcesilaus thither, rv. 162; Samian bravery 
+against the Persians in the Cyprian revolt, v. 112; desertion 
+to the Persians of all except eleven of the sixty Samian ships 
+in the Ionian revolt, vi. 8, 14; Samian colonists in Sicily, 
+vi. 22-25; distinction at Salamis of Samians in the Persian 
+fleet, ντ. 85; vague Greek ideas about the distance of Samos, 
+vil. 132; Samian envoys to Greeks before Mycale, rx. 90— 
+92; disloyalty of Samians to Persia, 1x. 99-103; reception 
+into the Greek confederacy, 1x. 106 (other reff. less important) 
+
+Samothrace, an island south of Thrace, vi. 47; its Pelasgian 
+inhabitants, 11. 51; exploit of a Samothracian ship at Salamis, 
+vu. 90; Samothracian forts on the mainland, ΥΠ. 59, 108 
+
+Sanacharibus, king of Assyria, his invasion of Egypt and the 
+destruction of his army, 11. 141 
+
+Sandanis, a Lydian, his advice to Croesus not to make war on 
+Persia, 1. 71 
+
+Sandoces, a Persian, his punishment and release by Darius, and 
+subsequent capture by the Greeks, ντι. 194 
+
+Sane, a town on the isthmus of the peninsula of Athos, vir. 22, 123 
+
+Sapaei, a Thracian tribe, on Xerxes’ route, vIr. 110 
+
+Sappho, the poetess, her satire on her brother Charaxus, τι. 135 
+
+Sarangae, a people of northern Persia, their tribute, ri. 93; 
+in Xerxes’ army, VII. 67 
+
+Sardanapallus, king of Ninus, the theft of his treasures, 11. 150 
+
+Sardis, Croesus’ capital of Lydia, its kings, 1. 7; its capture by 
+Cimmerians, 1. 15; Lacedaemonian envoys there, 1. 69; 
+Sardis besieged by Cyrus, r. 80; taken, r. 84; Cyrus at 
+Sardis, I. 141; town attacked by Lydian rebels, 1. 154; road 
+from Sardis to Smyrna, 11. 106; Cadytis nearly as large as 
+Sardis, 1. 5; Oroetes at Sardis, m1. 126-128; Asiad tribe 
+there, 1v. 45; Darius there, v. 11; seat of Persian governor, 
+v. 91, 73, 96, vr. 1; distance from Sardis to Susa, v. 53; 
+Sardis attacked and burnt by Ionians and Athenians, v. 99-- 
+102; Histiaeus there, vr. 1; disaffection of Persians at Sardis, 
+VI. 4; Alemeon there, v1. 125; Xerxes and his army at Sardis, 
+vil. 32, 37; portent seen there, ΥΠ. 57; Pharnuches’ mis- 
+fortune there, vir. 88; Xerxes’ return thither, viri. 117, 1x. 3; 
+Persians’ flight to Sardis after Mycale, rx. 107; Xerxes’ 
+amours there, rx. 108 (other reff. not important) 
+
+
+393 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Sardo (Sardinia), designs of the Ionians to migrate thither, 1. 
+170, v. 124; Histiacus’ promise to conquer it for Xerxes, v. 
+106; Sardinians among the invaders of Sicily, against Gelon, 
+vir. 165 
+
+Sarpedon, Minos' brother, his banishment by Minos and his 
+rule in Lycia, 1. 173 
+
+Sarpedonia, a headland in Thrace, vir. 58 
+
+Sarte, a town on the Singitic gulf W. of Athos, ντι. 122 
+
+Saspires, a people between Colchis and Media, 1. 104, 110, Iv. 
+37, 40; their tribute to Persia, 11. 94; in Xerxes’ army, 
+vit. 79 
+
+Sataspes, a Persian, his attempt to circumnavigate Africa, Iv. 43 
+
+Satrae, a Thracian tribe, their mines and places of divination, 
+ΥΠ. 110-112 
+
+Sattagydae, a people in the Persian empire, perhaps in Afghanis- 
+tan, their tribute, 111. 91 
+
+Saulius, a Scythian king, Anacharsis killed by him, τν. 76 
+
+Sauromatae, a people immediately E. of the Palus Maeotis, 
+Iv. 21, 57; their conflict and reconciliation with the Amazons, 
+Iv. 110-117; their part in the campaign against Darius, Iv. 
+122, 128, 136 
+
+Scaeus, a Theban, his dedication of a tripod, v. 60 
+
+Scamander, a river in the Troad, v. 65; on Xerxes’ route, VII. 43 
+
+Scamandronymus, a Mytilenaean, rr. 135 
+
+Scapte Hyle, in Thrace opposite Thasos, gold-mines there, v1. 46 
+
+Sciathus, an island off Magnesia, naval operations there, VII. 
+176, 179, 182, vim. 7 
+
+Scidrus, a town on the W. coast of Italy, a place of refuge for 
+the exiled Sybarites, v1. 21 
+
+Bcione, à town on the promontory of Pallene, vir. 123; in the 
+local confederacy, vIr. 128 
+
+Sciras, a title of Athene in Salamis, her temple there, ΥΠΙ. 94 
+
+Scironid road, along the isthmus of Corinth, destroyed by the 
+Greeks, VIII. 71 
+
+Sciton, servant of the physician Democedes, 111. 130 
+
+Scolopois, a place near Mycale, 1x. 97 
+
+Scoloti, ancient name of Scythians, Iv. 6 
+
+Scolus, near Thebes in Boeotia, 1x. 15 
+
+Scopadae, a Thessalian family, νι. 127 
+
+Scopasis, a leader in the Scythian army against Darius, tv. 120, 
+128 
+
+Scylace, a town on the Hellespont, its Pelasgian origin, 1. 57 
+
+
+383 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Scylax, (1) a man of Caryanda, his navigation of the Indus and 
+the eastern 5045, Iv. 44, (2) A man of Myndus, his maltreat- 
+ment by Megabates, v. 33 
+
+Scyles, a king of Scythia, his adoption of Greek customs and his 
+consequent fate, Iv. 78-80 
+
+Scyllias of Scione, his exploits as a diver, viri. 8 
+
+Scyros, an island in the Aegean E. of Euboea, vu, 183 
+
+Scythes, (1) son of Heracles and reputed ancestor of all Scythian 
+kings, Iv. 10. (2) Despot of Zancle, his imprisonment by 
+Hippocrates, vi. 23, 24, vir. 163 
+
+Scythians, their expulsion of Cimmerians, 1. 15; quarrel with 
+Cyaxares, I. 73; invasion of Media and conquest of “ Asia," 
+I. 103-106; Scythians subdued by Sesostris, rr. 103, 110; 
+contempt of peaceful occupations in Scythia, rr. 167; alliance 
+against Persia proposed to Sparta by Scythians, vi. 84; 
+Scythians called Sacae by Persians, vir. 64. Book Iv. 1-142 
+(relating almost wholly to Scythia and adjacent regions): Iv. 
+1-4, Scythians’ invasion of Media and troubles after their 
+return; 5-10, early Scythian legends; 11-12, their expulsion 
+of Cimmerians; 16—31, 46, 47, general description of Scythia 
+and inhabitants (nomad, farming, and “royal” Scythian), 
+and regions adjacent; 48-58, rivers of Scythia; 59-75, 
+manners and customs; 76-80, Scythian dislike of foreign 
+manners; 81, size of population; 99-109, geography of 
+Scythia and description of adjacent tribes; 118—142, Scythian 
+warfare against Darius. 
+
+Sebennyte province of Egypt, in the Delta, inhabited by one 
+of the warrior tribes, 1. 166; Sebennytic or central mouth 
+of the Nile, 11. 17, 155 
+
+Selinus, a town in Sicily, its occupation by one of Dorieus’ 
+followers, v. 46 
+
+Selymbria, a Greek town near the Hellespont, vr. 33 
+
+Semele, daughter of Cadmus and mother of Dionysus, rr. 145 
+
+Semiramis, queen of Babylon, her embankment of the Euphrates, 
+I. 184; gate of Babylon called after her, ΙΙ. 155 
+
+Sepea, near Tiryns in Argolis, scene of a battle between Lacedae- 
+monians and Argives, VI. 77 
+
+Sepias promontory, in Magnesia, Xerxes’ fleet there, ΥΠ. 183; 
+wreck of many of his ships, ΥΠ. 188-190 
+
+Serbonian marsh, on the eastern frontier of Egypt, 11. 6, 11. 5 
+
+Seriphus, one of the Cyclades islands, Seriphians in the Greek 
+fleet, viri. 46, 48 
+
+
+394 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Sermyle, a town on the Sithonian proimuontory in Chalcidice, 
+vir. 122 
+
+Serrheum, a promontory in Thrace near Doriscus, vir. 59 
+
+Sesostris, king of Egypt, his conquests, 1. 102-104; his monu- 
+ments, II. 106; his life attempted by his brother, 1r. 107; 
+canals made by him, rr. 137 
+
+Sestus, in the Thracian Chersonese, on the Hellespont, Darius' 
+crossing there, Iv. 143; Xerxes’ bridge near it, vir. 33; siege 
+and capture of Sestus by the Greeks, rx. 114-116, 119 
+
+Sethos, king of Egypt, his deliverance from Sanacharibus’ army, 
+n. 141 
+
+Sicania, old name of Sicily, vir. 170 
+
+Sicas, a Lycian, vir. 98 
+
+Sicily, Arion’s design to visit it, 1. 24; Dorieus in Sicily, v. 43- 
+48; retirement thither of Dionysius of Phocaea, vr 17; 
+Samian exiles there, vi. 22-24; growth of Gelon's power, 
+ΥΠ. 153-156; Carthaginian attack on Sicily defeated by Gelon, 
+vir. 165-168 
+
+Sicinnus, Themistocles’ servant, his mission to the Persians 
+before the battle of Salamis, vi. 75; to Xerxes after Salamis, 
+vir. 110 
+
+Sicyon, W. of Corinth, 1. 145; Cleisthenes’ despotism there, 
+v. 67, 68; quarrel between Sicyon and Argos, vI. 92; Sicyonians 
+in the Greek fleet, vir. 1, 43; in the force at the Isthmus, 
+Υπ. 72; in Pausanias’ army, 1x. 28; their losses at Mycale, 
+IX. 103 
+
+Sidon, Paris and Helen there, 1. 116; Sidon attacked by Apries, 
+i. 161; Democedes’ voyage from Sidon, nr. 136; speed of 
+Sidonian ships, vri. 44; in Xerxes’ fleet, vir. 96, 99; Xerxes’ 
+Sidonian ship, vir. 100, 128; place of honour of Sidonian king 
+in Xerxes’ council, vir. 67 
+
+Sigeum, a town in the Troad, Iv. 38; taken by Pisistratus, 
+v. 94; retreat of the Pisistratidae thither, v. 65, 91, 94 
+
+Sigynnae, a people north of the Danube, v. 9; other meanings 
+of the word, ib. 
+
+Silenus, a wood-deity, his alleged capture in the “garden of 
+Midas" in Macedonia, vi. 138; Marsyas called Silenus, 
+vi. 26 
+
+Simonides οἱ Ceos, the poet, his praise of Evalcides, v. 102; his 
+epitaphs for those fallen at Thermopylae, ΥΠ. 228 
+
+Sindi, a people to the east of the Cimmerian Bosporus, ry. 28; 
+at the broadest part of the Euxine, Iv. 56 
+
+
+384 
+323 
+VOL. IV. (HERODOTUS.) ο 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Sindus, a town on the Thermaic gulf, on Xerxes’ route, ΥΠ, 
+123 
+
+Singus, a town on the Singitic gulf west of Athos, vir. 122 
+
+Sinope, Greek town in Paphlagonia, on the S. coast of the Euxine, 
+1. 76; distance from the Cilician coast, 1. 34; on the site of 
+a Cimmerian settlement, Iv. 12 
+
+Siphnus, one of the Cyclades, its prosperity, 111. 57; Samian 
+raid upon it, ib.; Siphnian ships in the Greek fleet, vrm. 
+46, 48 
+
+Siriopaeones, a Paeonian tribe, carried off to Asia by the Persians, 
+v. 15 
+
+Siris, (1) a town in Paeonia, disabled Persians left there by 
+Xerxes, vill. 115. (2) A town in Italy, between Sybaris and 
+Tarentum, threat of Athenians to emigrate thither, vim. 62 
+
+Siromitres, a Persian officer in Xerxes’ army, vir. 68, 79 
+
+Siromus, (1) a man of Salamis in Cyprus, v. 104. (2) A Tyrian, 
+ΥΠ. 98 
+
+Sisamnes, (1) a Persian judge flayed by Cambyses for injustice, 
+v. 25. (2) A Persian officer in Xerxes’ army, ΥΠ. 66 
+
+Sisimaces, a Persian general in the Ionic revolt, his death in 
+battle, v. 121 
+
+Sitalces, king of Thrace, his bargain with the Scythians, tv. 80; 
+his betrayal of Spartan envoys, vir. 137 
+
+Sithonia, the central peninsula of Chalcidice, vir. 122 
+
+Siuph, in Egypt, the native town of Amasis, rr. 172 
+
+Smerdis, (1) son of Cyrus, Cambyses’ dream about him, rrr. 30; 
+his murder, 7b.; his daughter married to Darius, m1. 88. (All 
+other mentions in Book 111 refer to Smerdis’ murder and his 
+impersonation by his namesake.) (2) A Magian, his im- 
+personation of Cyrus’ son Smerdis and usurpation, ΤΠ. 61; 
+popularity of his government of Persia, 111. 67; discovery of 
+the truth, τα. 69; his death at the hands of the seven con- 
+spirators, 111. 78, 79 
+
+Smerdomenes, a Persian, son of Otanes, one of the generals of 
+Xerxes’ army, vir. 82, 121 
+
+Smila, a town on the Thermaic gulf, vir. 123 
+
+Smindyrides of Sybaris, a suitor for Cleisthenes' daughter, v1. 127 
+
+Smyrna, in Lydia, attacked by Gyges, 1. 14; taken by Alyattes, 
+I. 16; its transference from Aeolians to Jonians, I. 149, 150, 
+road from Sardis to Smyrna, 11. 106 
+
+Soeles, a Corinthian envoy, his story of Corinthian despotism, 
+v. 92 
+
+
+336 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Sogdi, & people in the Persian empire, E. of the Oxus, their 
+tribute, 111. 93; in Xerxes’ army, ΥΠ. 66 
+
+Soli, à town in Cyprus, its part in the Cyprian revolt, v. 110; 
+siege and capture by the Persians, v. 115 
+
+Solois, a promontory at the western extremity of Libya (perhaps 
+Cape Spartel), rr. 32, Iv. 43 
+
+Solon, his Athenian legislation, 1. 29, 11.177; his visit to Croesus, 
+I. 29-33; his praise of a Cyprian ruler, v. 113 
+
+Solymi, inhabitants of what was later Lycia, 1. 173 
+
+Sophanes, an Athenian, his exploits in Aegina, vr. 92, 1x. 75; 
+at Plataea, ΙΧ. 74 
+
+Sosimenes, a man of Tenos, virt. 82 
+
+Sostratus, an Aeginetan, his commercial success, 1v. 152 
+
+Spaco, Cyrus’ Median foster-mother, 1. 110 
+
+Spargapises, son of Tomyris queen of the Massagetae, his capture 
+by Cyrus and his suicide, 1. 211-213 
+
+Spargapithes, (1) king of the Agathyrsi, his murder of a Scythian 
+king, 1v. 78. (2) A king of Scythia, Iv. 76 
+
+Sparta, see Lacedaemon 
+
+Spercheus, a river in Malis, near Thermopylae, vir. 198, 228 
+
+Sperthias, one of the two Spartans who volunteered to surrender 
+themselves to Xerxes as atonement for the killing of Persian 
+heralds, vir. 134 
+
+Sphendalae, a deme in northern Attica, on Mardonius' route 
+into Boeotia, ΙΧ. 15 
+
+Stagirus, a Greek town in Chalcidice, on Xerxes’ route, vir. 115 
+
+Stentorid lake, in Thrace, on Xerxes’ route, vit. 58 
+
+Stenyclerus, in Messenia, scene of a battle between Spartans and 
+Messenians, 1x. 64 
+
+Stesagoras, (1) grandfather of Miltiades the younger, vI. 34, 103. 
+(2) Grandson of (1), vr. 103; his murder, vi. 38 
+
+Stesenor, despot of Curium in Cyprus, his desertion to the 
+Persians in the Cyprian revolt, v. 113 
+
+Stesilaus, an Athenian general killed at Marathon, γι. 114 
+
+Stratopeda (Camps), places on the Nile allotted by Psammetichus 
+to Ionians and Carians, rr. 154 
+
+Strattis, despot of Chios, with Darius’ Scythian expedition, rv. 
+138; Ionian plot against him, vii. 132 
+
+Struchates, a Median tribe, 1. 101 
+
+Stryme, a Thasian town in Thrace, vir. 108 
+
+Strymon, a river in Paeonia, Pisistratus’ revenues thence, I. 64; 
+Paeonians from the Strymon, v. 98; Xerxes’ bridge over it, 
+
+
+397 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+ΥΠ. 24; Bithynians of Asia originally Strymonians, ΥΠ. 75; 
+Persian defence of Eion on the Strymon, vrr. 107; sacrifice 
+offered to the river by the Magi, vu. 113; Strymonian or 
+north wind, Xerxes’ danger from it, viri. 118 (a few other 
+unimportant reff.) 
+
+Stymphalian lake, alleged subterranean channel from it to 
+Argos, vi. 76 
+
+Styreans, from Styra in S.W. Euboea, vi. 107; in the Greek 
+fleet, vir. 1, 46; in Pausanias army, ΙΧ. 28, 31 
+
+Styx, the water of, a mountain stream in Arcadia, supposed to 
+communicate with the world of the dead; oath there adminis- 
+tered by Cleomenes, v1. 74 
+
+Sunium, the southern promontory of Attica, Iv. 99; Athenian 
+festival there, vi. 87; settlement of banished Aeginetans on 
+Sunium, vr. 90; rounding of Sunium by Datis after Marathon, 
+νι. 115; Greek trophy set up there, vx. 121 
+
+Susa, the capital of the Persian kings, on the Choaspes, 1. 188, 
+v. 49; Smerdis murdered there, 11. 30; revolt against the 
+Magi there, 11. 70 seqq.; Histiaeus at Susa, v. 30; end of 
+the Royal road, v. 52; called the Memnonian, v. 54, vu. 151; 
+Milesian captives brought thither, vr. 20; Demaratus and 
+the Pisistratidae at Susa, vir. 3, 6; Spartans there, ΥΠ. 136; 
+reception there of Xerxes’ despatches from Greece, vur. 99; 
+Xerxes' amours at Susa, IX. 108 (other unimportant reff. to 
+Susa as the royal residence) 
+
+Syagrus, Spartan envoy to Sicily, vir. 153; his reply to Gelon, 
+vit. 159 
+
+Sybaris, in southern Italy, attacked by Dorieus, v. 44; its 
+capture by the Crotoniats, vi. 21; its former prosperity, VI. 
+127 
+
+Syene (Assuan), alleged to be near the source of the Nile, opposite 
+Elephantine, ΙΙ. 28 
+
+Syennesis, (1) king of Cilicia, his reconciliation of Medians and 
+Lydians, 1. 74; his daughter, v. 118. (2) A Cilician officer 
+in Xerxes' army, vir. 98 
+
+Sylean plain in Thrace, near Stagirus, on Xerxes’ route, VII. 
+115 
+
+Syloson, banished by his brother Polycrates from Samos, ir. 
+39; his gift to Darius and its reward, 11. 139—141; his restora- 
+tion to the government of Samos, m1. 144-149. (Elsewhere a 
+patronymic.) 
+
+Syme, an island near Rhodes, 1. 174 
+
+
+398 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Syracuse, its despots comparable for splendour to Polycrates, 
+Hi 125; its seizure by Gelon, and growth under his rule, 
+vil. 154-156; Greek envoys there, vir 157; Amilcas of 
+Carthage partly a Syracusan, ΥΠ. 166 
+
+Syrgis, see Hyrgis 
+
+Syria, its geography, 1. 12, 116; many rivers there, m. 20; 
+Syrian desert, 111. 6; see also Palestine; Syrians’ defeat by 
+Egyptians, rr. 159; their tribute to Persia, 111. 91; Syrians 
+of Cappadocia, 1. 6; Cappadocians called Syrians by Greeks, 
+1. 72, v.49; invaded by Croesus, 1. 76; their tribute to Persia, 
+Ir. 90; in Xerxes’ army, VII. 72 
+
+Syrtis, the bay of the Libyan coast W. of Cyrene, alleged canal 
+between it and Lake of Moeris, π. 150; silphium produced 
+near it, Iv. 169; inhabitants of its coast, 11. 32, 1v. 173 
+
+
+Tabalus, made governor of Sardis by Cyrus, 1. 153; rising of 
+Lydians against him, 1. 154 
+
+Tabiti, a Scythian deity identified with the Greek Hestia, 1v. 59 
+
+Tachompso, an alleged island in the Nile between Elephantine 
+and Meroé, 11. 29 
+
+Taenarum, southern promontory of Laconia, Arion’s arrival 
+there on a dolphin, 1.24; Corcyraean ships’ delay there, vir. 168 
+
+Talaüs, an Argive, father of Adrastus, v. 67 
+
+Talthybius, the Greek herald in the Iliad, his supposed ven- 
+geance of the death of heralds, ντι. 134, 137 
+
+Tamynae, a town in Euboea, its occupation by Datis, νι. 101 
+
+Tanagra, a town in Boeotia, its lands occupied by Cadmus, 
+followers, v. 57; Mardonius there, ΙΧ. 15; scene of a battle 
+(later) between the Spartans and the Athenians and Argives, 
+1x. 35; near the river Thermodon, 1x. 43 
+
+Tanais, a Scythian river (the Don), between Scythians and 
+Sauromatae, Iv. 21; its source and mouth, 1v. 57, 100; crossed 
+by Amazons and Sauromatae, Iv. 116 
+
+Tanite province of Egypt, inhabited by one of the warrior tribes, 
+II. 166 
+
+Taras (Tarentum), Arion's departure thence, r. 24; Tarentines' 
+services to Democedes, nr. 136; their refusal to admit a 
+banished man, ΙΙ. 138, 1v. 99; Tarentines’ losses in a battle 
+with their neighbours, vIr. 170 
+
+Targitaus, by legend the earliest Scythian, son of Zcus and 
+Borysthenes, 1v. 5; a thousand years before Darius’ invasion, 
+IV. 7 
+
+
+VOL. IV. (HERopborus.) 02 389 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Taricheae (salting-places), near the Canopie mouth of the Nile, 
+Paris’ landing there, ΙΙ. 113 
+
+Tartessus, at the mouth of the Baetis (Guadalquivir), friendship 
+of Phocaeans with its king, 1. 163; Samians' voyage thither, 
+IV. 152; Tartessian weasels, tv. 192 
+
+Tauchira, a town in Libya near Barea, 1v. 171 
+
+Tauri, a Scythian people, in the Taurie Chersonese W. of the 
+Palus Maeotis, their country described, Iv. 99-101; their part 
+in the campaign against Darius, 1v. 102-119 
+
+Taxacis, a leader in the Scythian armies against Darius, τν. 120 
+
+Taygetus, the mountain range E. of Laconia, its occupation by 
+the Minyae, Iv. 145, 146 
+
+Tearus, a ‘Thracian river, its water praised by Darius, 1v. 89-90 
+
+Teaspis, a Persian, 1v. 43, vir. 79, 1x. 76 
+
+Tegea, a town in Arcadia, varying event of its wars with Sparta, 
+I. 66—68; Leutychides’ death there, γι. 72; Phidippides’ 
+vision near Tegea, vr. 105; 'Tegeans at Thermopylae, vr. 
+202; Tegeans’ claim to the post of honour in Pausanias’ 
+army, IX. 26-28; (later) victory of Spartans over Tegea and 
+Argos, IX. 35; Tegean valour at Plataea, rx. 56, 60, 61, 62, 70 
+
+Teispes, two of this name in the list of Xerxes’ forefathers, ΥΠ. 
+11 (see How and Wells, Appendix Iv. ὃ) 
+
+Telamon, one of the legendary heroes of Salamis, his aid invoked 
+by the Greeks, vr. 64 
+
+Teleboae, an Acarnanian people, Amphitryon's defeat of them, 
+v. 59 
+
+Telecles, a Samian, in. 41 
+
+Teleclus, a Spartan king, vir. 204 
+
+Telemachus, son of Nestor, Menelaus’ narrative to him, 1r. 116 
+
+Telesarchus of Samos, his opposition to Macandrius, 11. 143 
+
+Telines, his priesthood at Gela in Sicily, vir. 153 
+
+Telliadae, a family or clan of diviners in Elis, one of them with 
+Mardonius, 1x. 37 
+
+Tellias of Elis (perhaps of the above family), his device for a 
+Phocian night attack on Thessalians, vu. 27 
+
+Tellus, an Athenian, Solon's judgment of his happiness, r. 30 
+
+Telmessians, probably in Lycia, their prophetic answers, 1. 78, 
+54 
+
+Telos, an island near Rhodes, home of Telines, ΥΠ. 153 
+
+Telys, despot of Sybaris, v. 44 
+
+JTemenus, ancestor of the Temenid family of Macedonian kings, 
+vii. 137 
+
+
+399 
+
+
+y 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Temnus, an Aeolian town in Asia Minor, 1. 149 
+
+Tempe, the valley of the Penëus in Thessaly, between Olympus 
+and Ossa, vil. 173 
+
+Tenedos, an island off the Troad, an Aeolian town there, 1. 151; 
+Tenedos taken by Persians in the Ionian revolt, v1. 31 
+
+Tenos, one of the Cyclades, a stage on the Hyperboreans’ route 
+to Delos, τν. 33; flight of Delians thither, vr. 97; desertion 
+of a Tenian ship to the Greeks at Salamis, ΥΠ. 82 
+
+Teos, an Jonian town in Lydia, 1. 142; flight of Teians to Thrace, 
+L 168; Teos proposed as à meeting-place for Ionians, 1. 170; 
+its share in the Greek settlement at Naucratis, 11. 178; Teian 
+ships in the Ionian fleet, v1. 8 
+
+Teres, father of Sitalces, king of Thrace, Iv. 80, vir. 137 
+
+Terillus, despot of Himera, his confederacy against Gelon, vn. 
+165 
+
+Termera, on the coast near Halicarnassus, its despot captured 
+by the Ionian rebels, v. 37 
+
+
+(c; Eamilae, an alternative name for the Lycians, 1. 173 
+
+
+'lethronium, à Phocian town, burnt by the Persians, viri. 33 
+
+Tetramnestus, a Sidonian officer in Xerxes' army, vir. 98 
+
+Teucrians (Trojans), their denial of the possession of Helen, ΤΙ. 
+118; Paeonians, v. 13, and Gergithes, v. 122, descended from 
+them; Teucrian invasion of Europe before the Trojan war, 
+vir. 20, 75 
+
+Teuthrania, at the mouth of the Caicus in Mysia, silting up of 
+a river bed there, 11. 10 
+
+Thagimasadas (or Thamimasadas), a Scythian deity identified 
+with Poseidon, Iv. 59 
+
+Thales of Miletus, his prediction of an eclipse, 1. 74; his diversion 
+of the course of the Halys, 1. 75; his advice as to a meeting- 
+place for Ionians, 1. 170 
+
+Thamanaei, a people probably in Ν.Ε. Persia, 111. 117; their 
+tribute, 111. 93 
+
+'l'hamasius, a Persian, father of Sandoces, vir. 194 
+
+Thannyras, a Libyan, restored by the Persians to the government 
+which his father Inaros had lost by rebellion, 111. 15 
+
+Thasos, (1) off Thrace, Phoenician temple of Heracles there, 11. 
+44; on Mardonius' route to Euboea, v1. 44: Thasians' revenues 
+from mines, v1. 46; their expenditure on feeding Xerxes' army, 
+ντ. 118. (2) A Phoenician, said to have given the island 
+its name, VI. 47 
+
+Theasides, a Spartan, his warning to the Aeginetans, vI. 85 
+
+
+391 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Thebe, (1) legendary daughter of Asopus and sister of Aegina, 
+v. 80. (2) A plain in Mysia, on Xerxes’ route, VII. 42 
+
+Thebes, (1) in Upper Egypt (modern Luxor) & custom of the 
+temple there, r. 182; Herodotus' inquiries at Thebes, rr. 3; 
+distance from Heliopolis, τι. 9; Thebes once called Egypt, 
+11. 15; rules of abstinence there, rr. 42; alleged connection 
+between the temple at Thebes and Dodona, 11. 54-56; croco- 
+diles held sacred there, 11. 69; sacred snakes, 11. 74; Hecataeus’ 
+investigations at Thebes, 11. 143; single instance of rain at 
+Thebes, ΙΙ. 10; Cambyses there, 111. 25; distance from Thebes 
+of the temple of Ammon, 1v. 143; Thebaic province, Syene 
+and Chemmis in it, 11. 28, 91; inhabited by one of the warrior 
+tribes, 11. 166. (2) In Boeotia, temple of Apollo there, 1. 52; 
+Croesus' gifts there, r. 92; 'lheban assistance to Pisistratus, 
+1. 61; Phoenician inscriptions at Thebes, v. 59; Theban feud 
+with Athens, v. 79, 81-89, vr. 108; Theban recovery of an 
+image of Apollo, vr. 118; submission to Xerxes, vir. 132; 
+Thebans unwillingly at Thermopylae, vir. 205; Thebans and 
+oracles of Amphiaraus, ΥἹΠ. 134; Theban advice to Mardonius, 
+IX. 2; Mardonius in Theban territory, ΙΧ. 15; story of 
+Polynices’ attack on Thebes, 1x. 27; proposed retreat of 
+Persians to Thebes, 1x. 58; Theban valour on Persian side, 
+IX. 67; surrender of Thebes to Greek army, ΙΧ. 86-88 
+
+Themis, a deity in Greece but not in Egypt, 1. 50 
+
+lThemiscyra, on the S. coast of the Euxine, breadth of the sea 
+measured thence, 1v. 86 
+
+Themison, à Theraean trader, his bargain with Etearchus of 
+Crete, 1v. 154 
+
+Themistocles, his interpretation of the Delphic oracle given to 
+Athens, ΥΠ. 143; his creation of the Athenian navy, vit. 
+144; in command of a force in Thessaly, vi. 173; bribery 
+of Greeks to stay at Artemisium, ΥἹΠ. 4; his efforts to detach 
+Ionians from Xerxes, VIII. 19, 22; advice to Greeks to stay 
+at Salamis, viri. 56-63; secret message to Persians, VIII. 75; 
+interview with Aristides, vin. 79, 80; exhortation before 
+Salamis, virt. 83; meeting with Polycritus of Aegina, ντ. 
+92; his policy after Salamis, secret message to Xerxes, and 
+extortion of money from islanders, vir. 108-112; honours 
+paid him by Greeks after Salamis, vir. 123-125 
+
+Theocydes, an Athenian, virt. 65 
+
+Theodorus, a Samian artist, his work at Delphi, 1. 51; for Poly- 
+crates, III 41 
+
+
+392 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Theomestor of Samos, his services to the Persians at Salamis, 
+vil. 85; despot of Samos, 1x. 90 
+
+Theophania, a festival at Delphi, 1. 51 
+
+Theopompus, a Spartan king, vil. 131 
+
+Thera, one of the Cyclades, once called Calliste, 1v. 147; its 
+original settlement, ib.; reason of its sending a colony to 
+Libya, 1v. 151; story of Battus of Thera, iv. 155; Theraeans 
+with Dorieus in Libya, v. 42 
+
+Therambos, a town in Pallene, vir. 123 
+
+Therapne, near Sparta, a temple of Helen there, vr. 61 
+
+Theras, a Cadmean of Sparta, his colonisation of Thera, rv. 147, 
+148 
+
+Thermodon, (1) a river in Boeotia, neor Tanagra, ΙΧ. 48. (2) A 
+river in Cappadocia, 11. 104; near Themiscyra, 1v. 86; victory 
+on it of Greeks over Amazons, Iv. 110, 1x. 27 
+
+Thermopylae, description of the pass, vir. 176, 198-200; story of 
+the battle, vir. 210-225; visit of Persian forces to the field 
+of Thermopylae, ix. 24, 25 (other mentions in vir. and Ix. 
+refer to the battle) 
+
+Theron, despot of Acragas, his expulsion of Terillus from Himera, 
+vil. 165; victory with Gelon over Carthaginian confederacy, 
+vii. 166 
+
+Thersandrus, (1) son of Polynices, ancestor of Theras, Iv. 147, 
+vi. 52. (2) A man of Orchomenus, his presence at a Persian 
+banquet at Thebes, 1x. 16 
+
+Theseus, his abduction of Helen into Attica, 1x. 73 
+
+Thesmophoria, a Greek festival in honour of Demeter, in Attica 
+in the autumn, n. 171; its celebration by Ephesian women, 
+vI. 16 
+
+Thespia, a town in Boeotia, burnt by the Persians, viu. 50; 
+Thespians allies of Thebans, v. 79; their refusal to submit 
+to Xerxes, vir 132; their steadfastness at Thermopylae, vu. 
+202, 222, 226; Sicinnus made a Thespian, vir. 75; Thespians 
+in Pausanias' army, 1x. 30 
+
+Thesprotians, in N.W. Greece, neighbours of the Ampraciots, 
+vill. 47; their practice of necromancy, v. 92; Thessalians 
+from Thesprotia, vir. 176 
+
+Thessaly, Pelasgians formerly there, 1. 57; Darius’ European 
+tribute from nations east of it, 111. 96, vrr. 108; Thessalian 
+allies of Pisistratus, v. 63; Lacedaemonian invasion of Thessaly, 
+vi. 72; Aleuadae of 'l'hessaly at Xerxes’ court, vir. 6; de- 
+scription of Thessaly, vu. 129; its submission to Xerxes, 
+
+
+393 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+vir. 132; Greek force there, ΥΠ. 172, 173; danger to Phocis 
+from Thessalians, vir. 191, 215; Xerxes’ march through it, 
+vu. 196; Thessalian cavalry inferior to Asiatic, 7b.; defeats 
+of Thessalians by Phocians, and Thessalian revenge, vu. 
+27-32; Mardonius in Thessaly, viru. 113, 133; Thessalians 
+in his army, 1x. 31; Artabazus in Thessaly, rx. 89 (other less 
+important reff.) 
+
+Thessalus, a Spartan companion of Dorieus, v. 46 
+
+J'heste, a spring in Libya, defeat there of Egyptians by Cyrenaeans, 
+Iv. 159 
+
+Thetis, Magian sacrifice to her to abate a storm, ΥΠ. 191 
+
+Thmuite province of Egypt, inhabited by one of the warrior 
+tribes, rr. 166 
+
+Thoas, king of Lemnos, killed by women, vr. 138 
+
+Thon, of Egypt, referred to in the Odyssey, 11. 116 
+
+Thonis, warder of the Nile mouth, his reception of Paris, τι. 113 
+
+Thorax, an Aleuad of Larissa, his support of Mardonius, 1x. 1; 
+Mardonius' address to him, ΙΧ. 58 
+
+Thoricus, à deme of Attica, near Sunium, 1v. 99 
+
+Thornax, a mountain in Laconia, Apollo's temple there, 1. 69 
+
+Thrace, Phocaean migration thither, 1. 168; conquest by 
+Sesostris, 11. 163; Thracian contempt of peaceful occupations, 
+11. 167; Thracian rivers, Iv. 49; use of hemp there, Iv. 74; 
+Darius in Thrace, rv. 89-93; population and customs of 
+Thrace, v. 3-8; Histiaeus there, v. 23; Aristagoras killed by 
+Thracians, v. 126; their attack on Mardonius, vi. 45; Thrace 
+conquered by Mysians and Teucrians, ΥΠ. 20; Persian 
+supremacy, ΥΠ. 106; Xerxes’ route through Thrace, vit. 
+110; reverence of Thracians for road of Xerxes’ army, VII. 
+115; Thracians in his army, ΥΠ. 185; Thracian theft of 
+Xerxes’ chariot, vu. 115; Artabazus’ retreat harassed by 
+Thracians, IX. 59; human sacrifice there, ΙΧ. 119 
+
+Thracians of Asia (Bithynians), their conquest by Croesus, 1. 
+28; tribute to Persia, rr. 90; in Xerxes’ army, vi. 75; their 
+former migration from Thrace into Asia, ib. 
+
+Thrasybulus, despot of Miletus, his deception of Alyattes, 1. 
+20-23; advice to Periander of Corinth, v. 92 
+
+Thrasycles, a Samian ix. 90 
+
+Thrasydeius, an Aleuad of Larissa, Mardonius' address to him, 
+IX. 58 
+
+Thrasylaus, an Athenian, vi. 114 
+
+Thriasian plain, near Eleusis in Attica, Dicaeus' vision there, 
+
+
+394 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+vu. 65; recommended as a battle-field by the Athenians, 
+
+
+IX 
+
+Thyia, legendary daughter of Cephisus, altar of the winds erected 
+in her precinct (also called Thyia) at Delphi, νη. 178 
+
+Thyni, named with Bithyni as “ Thracians " in Asia, 1. 28 
+
+Thyreae, a town taken from the Argives by the Lacedaemonians, 
+I. 82; Cleomenes and his army there, vi. 76 
+
+Thyssagetae, a people Ν.Ε. of Scythia, living by hunting, Iv. 
+22:128 
+
+Thyssus, a town in the peninsula of Athos, vir. 22 
+
+Tiarantus, a northern tributary of the Danube, 1v. 48 
+
+Tibareni, a people on the S. coast of the Euxine, their tribute 
+to Persia, 111. 94; in Xerxes’ army, ΥΠ. 78 
+
+Tibisis, a southern tributary of ti.. Danube, Iv. 49 
+
+Tigranes, son of Artabanus, an officer in Xerxes’ army, VII. 62; 
+his dictum about the Olympian games, vill. 26 (unless 
+“ Tritantaechmes ” be the right reading); his personal beauty, 
+1x. 96; his death at Mycale, rx. 102 
+
+Tigris, the river, 1. 189; junction with the Euphrates by a canal, 
+I. 193; Ninus on it, 11. 150; v. 52; Ampe on it, vr. 20 
+
+Timagenides, a Theban, his advice to Mardonius, 1x. 38; his 
+surrender and execution, ΙΧ. 86 
+
+Timagoras, a Cyprian, VII. 98 
+
+Timandrus, a Theban, 1x. 69 
+
+Timarete, a priestess at Dodona, It. 55 
+
+Timasitheus, a Delphian ally of Isagoras at Athens, his reputation 
+as a fighter, v. 72 
+
+Timesius of Clazomenae, his settlement at Abdera, 1. 168 
+
+Timo, a priestess at Paros, her attempted betrayal of a temple 
+to Miltiades, and subsequent acquittal, vi. 134, 135 
+
+Timodemus of Aphidnae, his attack on Themistocles, vir. 125 
+
+Timon, a Delphian, his advice to the Athenians about an oracle, 
+vu. 141 
+
+Timonax, a Cyprian officer in Xerxes' army, vir. 99 
+
+Timoxenus of Scione, his attempted betrayal of Potidaea, virt. 
+128 
+
+Tiryns, in Argolis, à battle near it between Argos and Sparta, 
+νι. 77; occupied by the Argives’ slaves, vr. 83; Tirynthians 
+in Pausanias’ army, Ix. 28, 31 
+
+Tisamenus, (1) an Elean diviner in the service of the Spartans, 
+his five victories, 1x. 33-35. (2) A Theban, grandson of 
+Polynices, tv. 147, v1. 52 
+
+
+395 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Tisandrus, (1) an Athenian, father of Isagoras, v. C3. (2) An 
+Athenian, father of Hippoclides, νι. 127 
+
+Tisias, a Parian, vi. 133 
+
+Titacus, a legendary Athenian, his betrayal of Aphidnae, rx. 73 
+
+Tithaeus, a cavalry officer in Xerxes’ army, vir. 88 
+
+Tithorea, a peak of Parnassus, retreat of Delphians thither, 
+VIII. 32 
+
+Titormus, an Aetolian, his strength and solitary habits, v1. 127 
+
+Tmolus, a gold-producing mountain in Lydia, near Sardis, 1. 
+84, 93, v. 100 
+
+Tomyris, queen of the Massagetae, her proposal to the invading 
+Persians, 1. 205, 206; her victory over Cyrus and revenge for 
+her son, I. 212-214 
+
+Torone, a town in Chalcidice, on the Sithonian peninsula, vir. 
+223.122 
+
+Trachis, the coastal region closed to the E. by Thermopylae, 
+several unimportant reff. to it, vil. 175—220; its town of the 
+same name, ΥΠ. 199; Xerxes’ passage from Trachis into 
+Doris, vir. 31 
+
+Trapezus (later Trebizond), a town on the S.E. coast of the 
+Euxine, vi. 127 
+
+Traspies, a Scythian tribe, 1v. 6 
+
+Trausi, a Thracian tribe, v. 3 
+
+Travus, a river in Thrace flowing into the Bistonian lake, vir. 
+109 
+
+Triballic plain (in modern Serbia), 1v. 49 
+
+Triopian promontory, S.W. point of Asia Minor, 1. 174, ιν. 37; 
+temple of Apollo there, r. 144 
+
+Tritaea, a town in Achaea, 1. 145 
+
+Tritantaechmes, (1) à Persian, son of Artabazus, his governor- 
+ship of Assyria, 1. 192. (2) A Persian, one of the generals 
+of Xerxes’ army, ΥΠ. 82, 121 
+
+Triteae, a Phocian town burnt by the Persians, vir. 33 
+
+Triton, (1) a deity of the sea, his guidance of Jason, iv. 179; 
+his cult in Libya, rv. 188. (2) An alleged river in Libya, 
+flowing into the ''Tritonid lake," rv. 178; the lake itself, 
+ib., and Iv. 186 (neither river nor lake is identified) 
+
+Troezen, in Argolis, entrusted with the island of Hydrea, 111. 
+59; mother-city of Halicarnassus, vu. 99; its contingent in 
+the Greek fleet, virr. 1, 43; in the force at the Isthmus, viir. 
+72; in Pausanias' army, ΙΧ. 28, 31; Troezenians in the battle 
+of Mycale, 1x. 102, 105 
+
+
+396 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Troglodytae (cave-dwellers), an Ethiopian tribe, their habits, rv. 
+183 
+
+
+Trophonius, a Boeotian god or hero, his oracular shrine con- 
+sulted by Croesus, 1. 46, by Mardonius, vin. 134 
+
+Troy and the Troad, v. 26, 122, vir. 43; Trojan war, 1. 120, 
+145, vr. 20, 171, 1x. 27; settlements of dispersed Trojans, 
+Iv. 191, v. 13, vir. 91 
+
+Tydeus, father of Diomedes, his slaying by Melanippus, v. 
+67 
+
+Tymnes, (1) vice-gerent of Ariapithes king of Scythia, his story 
+of Anacharsis, IV. 76. (2) A Carian, father of Histiaeus of 
+Termera, v. 37 
+
+Tyndareus, father of Helen, τι. 112 
+
+Tyndaridae (Castor and Polydeuces), their voyage in the Argo, 
+IV. 145; their images with Lacedaemonian armies, v. 75; 
+their recovery of Helen from Attica, 1x. 73 
+
+Typhon (or Typhos), identified with the Egyptian Set, his search 
+for iforus, 11. 156; Horus’ victory, and banishment of Typhon 
+to the Serbonian lake, Τι. 144, ΙΙΙ. 5 
+
+Tyras, a Scythian river (Dniester), Iv. 47; Cimmerian graves 
+by it, Iv. 11; its source, IV. 51; mark of Heracles’ foot on 
+its bank, 1v. 82 
+
+Tyre, abduetion of Europa thence, r. 2; temple of Heracles 
+there, ri. 44; Tyrian settlement at Memphis, rr. 112; war 
+between Egypt and Tyre, 11. 161; Tyrian king with Xerxes, 
+Vill. 67 
+
+Tyrodiza, a town near Perinthus, Xerxes’ commissariat there, 
+ΥΠ. 25 
+
+Tyrseni (Tyrrhenians, Etruscans), in central Italy, their Pelasgian 
+neighbours, 1. 57; their Lydian origin, 1. 94; Tyrrhenian sea 
+discovered by Phocaeans, 1. 163; Tyrrhenian attack on 
+Phocaeans, 1. 166; Tyrrhenia a synonym for Italy, νι. 22 
+
+Tyrsenus, leader of the Lydian settlement in Italy, 1. 94 
+
+
+Utii, a tribe on the Persian gulf, their tribute to Persia, 111. 93; 
+in Xerxes’ army, VII. 68 
+
+
+Xanthes, a Samian, his bringing of Rhodopis to Egypt, rr. 135 
+
+Xanthippus, an Athenian, father of Pericles, vr. 131; his im- 
+peachment of Miltiades, νι. 136; Athenian general after 
+Salamis, ΥΠ. 33, viu. 131; in command on the Hellespont, 
+IX. 114, 120 
+
+
+397 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+Xanthus, a tow: in Lycia, resistance of the Xanthians to the 
+Persians, and their defeat, 1. 176 
+
+Xenagoras, of Halicarnassus, made governor of Cilicia for saving 
+the life of Masistes, ΙΧ. 107 
+
+Xerxes: for mentions of him as leader of the Persian forces in the 
+invasion of Greece, see the tables of contents in Introductions 
+to Vols. III and IV of this translation. Principal references 
+to Xerxes personally: his execution of a Babylonian priest, 
+1. 183; of Sataspes, 1v. 43; succession to the throne, ΥΠ. 
+2, 3; his council, and colloquies with Artabanus, vir. 8-18; 
+treatment of Pythius, vir. 27, 28, 38, 39; scourging of the 
+Hellespont, vir. 35; further colloquy with Artabanus, Υπ. 
+46-52; with Demaratus, ΥΠ. 101-104, 209, 234—237; Xerxes’ 
+visit to the Peneus, ΥΠ. 128-130; generosity to two Spartans, 
+ΥΠ. 136; his personal beauty, vir 187; vengeance on the 
+dead Leonidas, ντ. 238; advice given to Xerxes by Artemisia, 
+vill. 68, 69; Xerxes a spectator of the battle of Salamis, 
+vii. 88, 90; his council of war after the battle, ντ. 100—102; 
+his fear of the Greeks, virt. 203; story of his danger of ship- 
+wreck in his return, virr. 118, 119; his passion for his brother's 
+wife and her daughter, and its consequences, 1x. 108-113 
+
+Xuthus, a legendary hero, father of Ion, ΥΠ. 94, virt. 44 
+
+
+Zacynthus, west of Greece, description of a pool there, Iv. 195; 
+Demaratus’ escape there, vr. 70; intended expulsion of Zacyn- 
+thians by Samians, ΤΠ. 59; death of Hegesistratus in Zacynthus, 
+IX. 37 
+
+Zalmoxis, see Salmoxis. 
+
+Zancle (later Messene, modern Messina), its seizure by Samians, 
+vI. 23, vir. 164; attack by Hippocrates of Gela, vit. 154 
+
+Zaueces, a tribe in western Libya, ιν. 193 
+
+Zeus, I. 65, 89, 131, 174, 207, rr. 13, 116, 136, 146, τι. 124, νι. 
+67, vix. 56, 61, 141, 221, vir. 77, ΙΧ. 122; connected with 
+some particular place or function (Zeus Lacedaemon, Zeus 
+Catharsius, etc.), 1. 44, 171, τι. 55, 178, πι. 142, Iv. 203, v. 
+46, 66, 119, vr. 56, 68, vir. 141, 197, ΙΧ. 7, 81; identified with 
+foreign deities, 1. 46, 131, 181-183, π. 18, 32, 29, 42, δά, 55, 
+56, 74, 83, 143, rr. 158, Iv. 5, 59, 127, 180, 181, vu. 40 
+
+Zeuxidemus, son of Leutychides, king of Sparta, his early death, 
+vi. 71 
+
+Zopyrus, (1) a Persian, son of Megabyzus, his pretended desertion 
+to the Babylonians, and delivery of Babylon to Darius, 11, 
+
+
+398 
+
+
+INDEX 
+
+
+153-159; Darius’ esteem for him, 111. 160; rape of his daughter, 
+1v. 43. (2) Grandson of the above, his migration from Persia 
+to Athens, ΠΙ. 160 
+
+Zoster (Girdle), à promontory on the coast of Attica, rocks near 
+it taken for ships by the Persians, vii. 107 
+
+
+399 
+
+
+Printed in Great Britain by 
+Richard Clay (The Chaucer Press), Lid., 
+Dungay, Suffolk 
+
+
+η ity "hae [ων 
+
+
+NU 
+x, es 
+"y A E NS 
+
+
+ina "tt — Mi | 
+Persian 
+
+
+» 
+Fi 
+
+
+/ 
+
+FK, P 
+
+; 
+. M 
+
+
+TANS 
+
+
+ML. 
+
+
+SAA ONOM We 
+σετ aly δη SIT 
+
+
+ótanford's Geog. Estab., London. 
+
+
diff --git a/year4/semester2/CT414/assignments/assignment2/data/holy_bible.txt b/year4/semester2/CT414/assignments/assignment2/data/holy_bible.txt
new file mode 100644
index 00000000..2ae340e7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/year4/semester2/CT414/assignments/assignment2/data/holy_bible.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,937 @@
+The Holy Bible, containing the Old & New Testament & the Apocrypha — Genesis
+
+
+
+
+
+Exported from Wikisource on March 22, 2025
+
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+
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+"IN THE SWEAT OF THY FACE SHALT THOU EAT BREAD."—Genesis iii.
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+THE FIRST BOOK OF MOSES CALLED
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+GENESIS
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+IN the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And God said, Let there be light: and there was light. And God saw the light, that it was good: and God divided the light from the darkness. And God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And the evening and the morning were the first day.
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+And God said, Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters. And God made the firmament, and divided the waters which were under the firmament from the waters which were above the firmament: and it was so. And God called the firmament Heaven. And the evening and the morning were the second day.
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+And God said, Let the waters under the heaven be gathered together unto one place, and let the dry land appear: and it was so. And God called the dry land Earth; and the gathering together of the waters called he Seas: and God saw that it was good. And God said, Let the earth bring forth grass, the herb yielding seed, and the fruit tree yielding fruit after his kind, whose seed is in itself, upon the earth: and it was so. And the earth brought forth grass, and herb yielding seed after his kind, and the tree yielding fruit, whose seed was in itself, after his kind: and God saw that it was good. And the evening and the morning were the third day.
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+And God said, Let there be lights in the firmament of the heaven to divide the day from the night; and let them be for signs, and for seasons, and for days, and years: and let them be for lights in the firmament of the heaven to give light upon the earth: and it was so. And God made two great lights; the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night: he made the stars also. And God set them in the firmament of the heaven to give light upon the earth, and to rule over the day and over the night, and to divide the light from the darkness: and God saw that it was good. And the evening and the morning were the fourth day.
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+And God said, Let the waters bring forth abundantly the moving creature that hath life, and fowl that may fly above the earth in the open firmament of heaven. And God created great whales, and every living creature that moveth, which the waters brought forth abundantly, after their kind, and every winged fowl after his kind: and God saw that it was good. And God blessed them, saying. Be fruitful, and multiply, and fill the waters in the seas, and let fowl multiply in the earth. And the evening and the morning were the fifth day.
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+And God said, Let the earth bring forth the living creature after his kind, cattle, and creeping thing, and beast of the earth after his kind: and it was so. And God made the beast of the earth after his kind, and cattle after their kind, and every thing that creepeth upon the earth after his kind: and God saw that it was good.
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+And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth. So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them. And God blessed them, and God said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth.
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+And God said, Behold, I have given you every herb bearing seed, which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree, in the which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed; to you it shall be for meat. And to every beast of the earth, and to every fowl of the air, and to every thing that creepeth upon the earth, wherein there is life, I have given every green herb for meat: and it was so. And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good. And the evening and the morning were the sixth day.
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+Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all the host of them. And on the seventh day God ended his work which he had made; and he rested on the seventh day from all his work which he had made. And God blessed the seventh day, and sanctified it: because that in it he had rested from all his work which God created and made.
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+These are the generations of the heavens and of the earth when they were created, in the day that the Lord God made the earth and the heavens, and every plant of the field before it was in the earth, and every herb of the field before it grew: for the Lord God had not caused it to rain upon the earth, and there was not a man to till the ground. But there went up a mist from the earth, and watered the whole face of the ground. And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.
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+And the Lord God planted a garden eastward in Eden; and there he put the man whom he had formed. And out of the ground made the Lord God to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight, and good for food; the tree of life also in the midst of the garden, and the tree of knowledge of good and evil. And a river went out of Eden to water the garden; and from thence it was parted, and became into four heads. The name of the first is Pison: that is it which compasseth the whole land of Havilah, where there is gold; and the gold of that land is good: there is bdellium and the onyx stone. And the name of the second river is Gihon: the same is it that compasseth the whole land of Ethiopia. And the name of the third river is Hiddekel: that is it which goeth toward the east of Assyria. And the fourth river is Euphrates. And the Lord God took the man, and put him into the garden of Eden to dress it and to keep it. And the Lord God commanded the man, saying. Of every tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat: but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die.
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+And the Lord God said, It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him an help meet for him. And out of the ground the Lord God formed every beast of the field, and every fowl of the air; and brought them unto Adam to see what he would call them: and whatsoever Adam called every living creature, that was the name thereof. And Adam gave names to all cattle, and to the fowl of the air, and to every beast of the field; but for Adam there was not found an help meet for him. And the Lord God caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam, and he slept: and he took one of his ribs, and closed up the flesh instead thereof; and the rib, which the Lord God had taken from man, made he a woman, and brought her unto the man. And Adam said, This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh: she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man. Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh. And they were both naked, the man and his wife, and were not ashamed.
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+Now the serpent was more subtil than any beast of the field which the Lord God had made. And he said unto the woman. Yea, hath God said, Ye shall not eat of every tree of the garden? And the woman said unto the serpent. We may eat of the fruit of the trees of the garden: but of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden, God hath said, Ye shall not eat of it, neither shall ye touch it, lest ye die. And the serpent said unto the woman. Ye shall not surely die: for God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil. And when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise, she took of the fruit thereof, and did eat, and gave also unto her husband with her; and he did eat. And the eyes of them both were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together, and made themselves aprons. And they heard the voice of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day: and Adam and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God amongst the trees of the garden. And the Lord God called unto Adam, and said unto him, Where art thou? And he said, I heard thy voice in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked; and I hid myself. And he said, Who told thee that thou wast naked? Hast thou eaten of the tree, whereof I commanded thee that thou shouldest not eat? And the man said, The woman whom thou gavest to be with me, she gave me of the tree, and I did eat. And the Lord God said unto the woman, What is this that thou hast done? And the woman said, The serpent beguiled me, and I did eat. And the Lord God said unto the serpent. Because thou hast done this, thou art cursed above all cattle, and above every beast of the field; upon thy belly shalt thou go, and dust shalt thou eat all the days of thy life: and I will put enmity between thee and the woman, and between thy seed and her seed; it shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel. Unto the woman he said, I will greatly multiply thy sorrow and thy conception; in sorrow thou shalt bring-forth children; and thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee. And unto Adam he said, Because thou hast hearkened unto the voice of thy wife, and hast eaten of the tree, of which I commanded thee, saying, Thou shalt not eat of it: cursed is the ground for thy sake; in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days of thy life; thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee; and thou shalt eat the herb of the field; in the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return. And Adam called his wife's name Eve; because she was the mother of all living. Unto Adam also and to his wife did the Lord God make coats of skins, and clothed them.
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+And the Lord God said, Behold, the man is become as one of us, to know good and evil: and now, lest he put forth his hand, and take also of the tree of life, and eat, and live for ever: therefore the Lord God sent him forth from the garden of Eden, to till the ground from whence he was taken. So he drove out the man; and he placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life.
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+And Adam knew Eve his wife; and she conceived, and bare Cain, and said, I have gotten a man from the Lord. And she again bare his brother Abel. And Abel was a keeper of sheep, but Cain was a tiller of the ground. And in process of time it came to pass, that Cain brought of the fruit of the ground an offering unto the Lord. And Abel, he also brought of the firstlings of his flock and of the fat thereof. And the Lord had respect unto Abel and to his offering: but unto Cain and to his offering he had not respect. And Cain was very wroth, and his countenance fell. And the Lord said unto Cain, Why art thou wroth? and why is thy countenance fallen? If thou doest well, shalt thou not be accepted? and if thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door. And unto thee shall be his desire, and thou shalt rule over him. And Cain talked with Abel his brother: and it came to pass, when they were in the field, that Cain rose up against Abel his brother, and slew him.
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+And the Lord said unto Cain, Where is Abel thy brother? And he said, I know not: am I my brother's keeper? And he said, What hast thou done? the voice of thy brother's blood crieth unto me from the ground. And now art thou cursed from the earth, which hath opened her mouth to receive thy brother's blood from thy hand; when thou tillest the ground, it shall not henceforth yield unto thee her strength; a fugitive and a vagabond shalt thou be in the earth. And Cain said unto the Lord, My punishment is greater than I can bear. Behold, thou hast driven me out this day from the face of the earth; and from thy face shall I be hid; and I shall be a fugitive and a vagabond in the earth; and it shall come to pass, that every one that findeth me shall slay me. And the Lord said unto him, Therefore whosoever slayeth Cain, vengeance shall be taken on him sevenfold. And the Lord set a mark upon Cain, lest any finding him should kill him.
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+And Cain went out from the presence of the Lord, and dwelt in the land of Nod, on the east of Eden. And Cain knew his wife; and she conceived, and bare Enoch: and he builded a city, and called the name of the city, after the name of his son, Enoch. And unto Enoch was born Irad: and Irad begat Mehujael: and Mehujael begat Methusael: and Methusael begat Lamech.
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+And Lamech took unto him two wives: the name of the one was Adah, and the name of the other Zillah. And Adah bare Jabal: he was the father of such as dwell in tents, and of such as have cattle. And his brother's name was Jubal: he was the father of all such as handle the harp and organ. And Zillah, she also bare Tubal-cain, an instructer of every artificer in brass and iron: and the sister of Tubal-cain was Naamah. And Lamech said unto his wives,
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+Adah and Zillah, hear my voice;
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+Ye wives of Lamech, hearken unto my speech:
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+For I have slain a man to my wounding,
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+And a young man to my hurt.
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+If Cain shall be avenged sevenfold.
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+Truly Lamech seventy and sevenfold.
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+And Adam knew his wife again; and she bare a son, and called his name Seth: For God, said she, hath appointed me another seed instead of Abel, whom Cain slew. And to Seth, to him also there was born a son; and he called his name Enos: then began men to call upon the name of the Lord.
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+This is the book of the generations of Adam. In the day that God created man, in the likeness of God made he him; male and female created he them; and blessed them, and called their name Adam, in the day when they were created.
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+And Adam lived an hundred and thirty years, and begat a son in his own likeness, after his image; and called his name Seth: and the days of Adam after he had begotten Seth were eight hundred years: and he begat sons and daughters: and all the days that Adam lived were nine hundred and thirty years: and he died. And Seth lived an hundred and five years, and begat Enos: and Seth lived after he begat Enos eight hundred and seven years, and begat sons and daughters: and all the days of Seth were nine hundred and twelve years: and he died.
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+And Enos lived ninety years, and begat Cainan: and Enos lived after he begat Cainan eight hundred and fifteen years, and begat sons and daughters: and all the days of Enos were nine hundred and five years: and he died.
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+And Cainan lived seventy years, and begat Mahalaleel: and Cainan lived after he begat Mahalaleel eight hundred and forty years, and begat sons and daughters: and all the days of Cainan were nine hundred and ten years: and he died.
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+And Mahalaleel lived sixty and five years, and begat Jared: and Mahalaleel lived after he begat Jared eight hundred and thirty years, and begat sons and daughters: and all the days of Mahalaleel were eight hundred ninety and five years: and he died.
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+And Jared lived an hundred sixty and two years, and he begat Enoch: and Jared lived after he begat Enoch eight hundred years, and begat sons and daughters: and all the days of Jared were nine hundred sixty and two years: and he died.
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+And Enoch lived sixty and five years, and begat Methuselah: and Enoch walked with God after he begat Methuselah three hundred years, and begat sons and daughters: and all the days of Enoch were three hundred sixty and five years: and Enoch walked with God: and he was not; for God took him.
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+And Methuselah lived an hundred eighty and seven years, and begat Lamech: and Methuselah lived after he begat Lamech seven hundred eighty and two years, and begat sons and daughters: and all the days of Methuselah were nine hundred sixty and nine years: and he died.
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+And Lamech lived an hundred eighty and two years, and begat a son: and he called his name Noah, saying, This same shall comfort us concerning our work and toil of our hands, because of the ground which the Lord hath cursed. And Lamech lived after he begat Noah five hundred ninety and five years, and begat sons and daughters: and all the days of Lamech were seven hundred seventy and seven years: and he died.
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+And Noah was five hundred years old: and Noah begat Shem, Ham, and Japheth.
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+And it came to pass, when men began to multiply on the face of the earth, and daughters were born unto them, that the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair; and they took them wives of all which they chose. And the Lord said, My spirit shall not always strive with man, for that he also is flesh: yet his days shall be an hundred and twenty years. There were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown.
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+And God saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually. And it repented the Lord that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him at his heart. And the Lord said, I will destroy man whom I have created from the face of the earth; both man, and beast, and the creeping thing, and the fowls of the air; for it repenteth me that I have made them. But Noah found grace in the eyes of the Lord.
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+These are the generations of Noah: Noah was a just man and perfect in his generations, and Noah walked with God. And Noah begat three sons, Shem, Ham, and Japheth. The earth also was corrupt before God, and the earth was filled with violence. And God looked upon the earth, and, behold, it was corrupt; for all flesh had corrupted his way upon the earth.
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+And God said unto Noah, The end of all flesh is come before me; for the earth is filled with violence through them and, behold, I will destroy them with the earth. Make thee an ark of gopher wood; rooms shalt thou make in the ark, and shalt pitch it within and without with pitch. And this is the fashion which thou shalt make it of: The length of the ark shall be three hundred cubits, the breadth of it fifty cubits, and the height of it thirty cubits. A window shalt thou make to the ark, and in a cubit shalt thou finish it above; and the door of the ark shalt thou set in the side thereof; with lower, second, and third stories shalt thou make it. And, behold, I, even I, do bring a flood of waters upon the earth, to destroy all flesh, wherein is the breath of life, from under heaven; and every thing that is in the earth shall die. But with thee will I establish my covenant; and thou shalt come into the ark, thou, and thy sons, and thy wife, and thy sons' wives with thee. And of every living thing of all flesh, two of every sort shalt thou bring into the ark, to keep them alive with thee; they shall be male and female. Of fowls after their kind, and of cattle after their kind, of every creeping thing of the earth after his kind, two of every sort shall come unto thee, to keep them alive. And take thou unto thee of all food that is eaten, and thou shalt gather it to thee; and it shall be for food for thee, and for them. Thus did Noah; according to all that God commanded him, so did he.
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+And the Lord said unto Noah, Come thou and all thy house into the ark; for thee have I seen righteous before me in this generation. Of every clean beast thou shalt take to thee by sevens, the male and his female: and of beasts that are not clean by two, the male and his female. Of fowls also of the air by sevens, the male and the female; to keep seed alive upon the face of all the earth. For yet seven days, and I will cause it to rain upon the earth forty days and forty nights; and every living substance that I have made will I destroy from off the face of the earth. And Noah did according unto all that the Lord commanded him. And Noah was six hundred years old when the flood of waters was upon the earth.
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+And Noah went in, and his sons, and his wife, and his sons' wives with him, into the ark, because of the waters of the flood. Of clean beasts, and of beasts that are not clean, and of fowls, and of every thing that creepeth upon the earth, there went in two and two unto Noah into the ark, the male and the female, as God had commanded Noah. And it came to pass after seven days, that the waters of the flood were upon the earth.
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+In the six hundredth year of Noah's life, in the second month, the seventeenth day of the month, the same day were all the fountains of the great deep broken up, and the windows of heaven were opened. And the rain was upon the earth forty days and forty nights. In the selfsame day entered Noah, and Shem, and Ham, and Japheth, the sons of Noah, and Noah's wife, and the three wives of his sons with them, into the ark; they, and every beast after his kind, and all the cattle after their kind, and every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth after his kind, and every fowl after his kind, every bird of every sort. And they went in unto Noah into the ark, two and two of all flesh, wherein is the breath of life. And they that went in, went in male and female of all flesh, as God had commanded him: and the Lord shut him in. And the flood was forty days upon the earth; and the waters increased, and bare up the ark, and it was lift up above the earth. And the waters prevailed, and were increased greatly upon the earth; and the ark went upon the face of the waters. And the waters prevailed exceedingly upon the earth; and all the high hills, that were under the whole heaven, were covered. Fifteen cubits upward did the waters prevail; and the mountains were covered. And all flesh died that moved upon the earth, both of fowl, and of cattle, and of beast, and of every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth, and every man: all in whose nostrils was the breath of life, of all that was in the dry land, died. And every living substance was destroyed which was upon the face of the ground, both man, and cattle, and the creeping things, and the fowl of the heaven; and they were destroyed from the earth: and Noah only remained alive, and they that were with him in the ark. And the waters prevailed upon the earth an hundred and fifty days.
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+And God remembered Noah, and every living thing, and all the cattle that was with him in the ark: and God made a wind to pass over the earth, and the waters asswaged; the fountains also of the deep and the windows of heaven were stopped, and the rain from heaven was restrained; and the waters returned from off the earth continually: and after the end of the hundred and fifty days the waters were abated. And the ark rested in the seventh month, on the seventeenth day of the month, upon the mountains of Ararat. And the waters decreased continually until the tenth month: in the tenth month, on the first day of the month, were the tops of the mountains seen.
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+And it came to pass at the end of forty days, that Noah opened the window of the ark which he had made: and he sent forth a raven, which went forth to and fro, until the waters were dried up from off the earth. Also he sent forth a dove from him, to see if the waters were abated from off the face of the ground; but the dove found no rest for the sole of her foot, and she returned unto him into the ark, for the waters were on the face of the whole earth: then he put forth his hand, and took her, and pulled her in unto him into the ark. And he stayed yet other seven days; and again he sent forth the dove out of the ark; and the dove came in to him in the evening; and, lo, in her mouth was an olive leaf pluckt off: so Noah knew that the waters were abated from off the earth. And he stayed yet other seven days; and sent forth the dove; which returned not again unto him any more.
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+And it came to pass in the six hundredth and first year, in the first month, the first day of the month, the waters were dried up from off the earth: and Noah removed the covering of the ark, and looked, and, behold, the face of the ground was dry. And in the second month, on the seven and twentieth day of the month, was the earth dried.
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+And God spake unto Noah, saying. Go forth of the ark, thou, and thy wife, and thy sons, and thy sons' wives with thee. Bring forth with thee every living thing that is with thee, of all flesh, both of fowl, and of cattle, and of every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth; that they may breed abundantly in the earth, and be fruitful, and multiply upon the earth. And Noah went forth, and his sons, and his wife, and his sons' wives with him: every beast, every creeping thing, and every fowl, and whatsoever creepeth upon the earth, after their kinds, went forth out of the ark.
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+And Noah builded an altar unto the Lord; and took of every clean beast, and of every clean fowl, and offered burnt offerings on the altar. And the Lord smelled a sweet savour; and the Lord said in his heart, I will not again curse the ground any more for man's sake; for the imagination of man's heart is evil from his youth; neither will I again smite any more every thing living, as I have done. While the earth remaineth, seedtime and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease.
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+And God blessed Noah and his sons, and said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth. And the fear of you and the dread of you shall be upon every beast of the earth, and upon every fowl of the air, upon all that moveth upon the earth, and upon all the fishes of the sea; into your hand are they delivered. Every moving thing that liveth shall be meat for you; even as the green herb have I given you all things. But flesh with the life thereof, which is the blood thereof, shall ye not eat. And surely your blood of your lives will I require; at the hand of every beast will I require it, and at the hand of man; at the hand of every man's brother will I require the life of man. Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed: for in the image of God made he man. And you, be ye fruitful, and multiply; bring forth abundantly in the earth, and multiply therein.
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+And God spake unto Noah, and to his sons with him, saying, And I, behold, I establish my covenant with you, and with your seed after you; and with every living creature that is with you, of the fowl, of the cattle, and of every beast of the earth with you; from all that go out of the ark, to every beast of the earth. And I will establish my covenant with you; neither shall all flesh be cut off any more by the waters of a flood; neither shall there any more be a flood to destroy the earth. And God said, This is the token of the covenant which I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for perpetual generations: I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth. And it shall come to pass, when I bring a cloud over the earth, that the bow shall be seen in the cloud: and I will remember my covenant, which is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall no more become a flood to destroy all flesh. And the bow shall be in the cloud; and I will look upon it, that I may remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is upon the earth. And God said unto Noah, This is the token of the covenant, which I have established between me and all flesh that is upon the earth.
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+And the sons of Noah, that went forth of the ark, were Shem, and Ham, and Japheth: and Ham is the father of Canaan. These are the three sons of Noah: and of them was the whole earth overspread.
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+And Noah began to be an husbandman, and he planted a vineyard: and he drank of the wine, and was drunken; and he was uncovered within his tent. And Ham, the father of Canaan, saw the nakedness of his father, and told his two brethren without. And Shem and Japheth took a garment, and laid it upon both their shoulders, and went backward, and covered the nakedness of their father; and their faces were backward, and they saw not their father's nakedness. And Noah awoke from his wine, and knew what his younger son had done unto him. And he said,
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+Cursed be Canaan;
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+A servant of servants shall he be unto his brethren.
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+And he said,
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+Blessed be the Lord God of Shem;
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+And Canaan shall be his servant.
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+God shall enlarge Japheth,
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+And he shall dwell in the tents of Shem;
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+And Canaan shall be his servant.
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+And Noah lived after the flood three hundred and fifty years. And all the days of Noah were nine hundred and fifty years: and he died.
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+Now these are the generations of the sons of Noah, Shem, Ham, and Japheth: and unto them were sons born after the flood.
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+The sons of Japheth; Gomer, and Magog, and Madai, and Javan, and Tubal, and Meshech, and Tiras. And the sons of Gomer; Ashkenaz, and Riphath, and Togarmah. And the sons of Javan; Elishah, and Tarshish, Kittim, and Dodanim. By these were the isles of the Gentiles divided in their lands; every one after his tongue, after their families, in their nations.
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+And the sons of Ham; Cush, and Mizraim, and Phut, and Canaan. And the sons of Cush; Seba, and Havilah, and Sabtah, and Raamah, and Sabtechah: and the sons of Raamah; Sheba, and Dedan. And Cush begat Nimrod: he began to be a mighty one in the earth. He was a mighty hunter before the Lord: wherefore it is said, Even as Nimrod the mighty hunter before the Lord. And the beginning of his kingdom was Babel, and Erech, and Accad, and Calneh, in the land of Shinar. Out of that land went forth Asshur, and builded Nineveh, and the city Rehoboth, and Calah, and Resen between Nineveh and Calah: the same is a great city. And Mizraim begat Ludim, and Anamim, and Lehabim, and Naphtuhim, and Pathrusim, and Casluhim, (out of whom came Philistim,) and Caphtorim.
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+And Canaan begat Sidon his firstborn, and Heth, and the Jebusite, and the Amorite, and the Girgasite, and the Hivite, and the Arkite, and the Sinite, and the Arvadite, and the Zernarite, and the Hamathite: and afterward were the families of the Canaanites spread abroad. And the border of the Canaanites was from Sidon, as thou comest to Gerar, unto Gaza; as thou goest, unto Sodom, and Gomorrah, and Admah, and Zeboim, even unto Lasha. These are the sons of Ham, after their families, after their tongues, in their countries, and in their nations.
+
+Unto Shem also, the father of all the children ofEber, the brother of Japheth the elder, even to him were children born. The children of Shem; Elam, and Asshur, and Arphaxad, and Lud, and Aram. And the children of Aram; Uz, and Hul, and Gether, and Mash. And Arphaxad begat Salah; and Salah begat Eber. And unto Eber were born two sons: the name of one was Peleg; for in his days was the earth divided; and his brother's name was Joktan. And Joktan begat Almodad, and Sheleph, and Hazarmaveth, and Jerah, and Hadoram, and Uzal, and Diklah, and Obal, and Abimael, and Sheba, and Ophir, and Havilah, and Jobab: all these were the sons of Joktan. And their dwelling was from Mesha, as thou goest unto Sephar a mount of the east. These are the sons of Shem, after their families, after their tongues, in their lands, after their nations.
+
+These are the families of the sons of Noah, after their generations, in their nations: and by these were the nations divided in the earth after the flood.
+
+And the whole earth was of one language, and of one speech. And it came to pass, as they journeyed from the east, that they found a plain in the land of Shinar; and they dwelt there. And they said one to another, Go to, let us make brick, and burn them throughly. And they had brick for stone, and slime had they for morter. And they said, Go to, let us build us a city and a tower, whose top may reach unto heaven; and let us make us a name, lest we be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth. And the Lord came down to see the city and the tower, which the children of men builded. And the Lord said, Behold, the people is one, and they have all one language; and this they begin to do: and now nothing will be restrained from them, which they have imagined to do. Go to, let us go down, and there confound their language, that they may not understand one another's speech. So the Lord scattered them abroad from thence upon the face of all the earth: and they left off to build the city. Therefore is the name of it called Babel; because the Lord did there confound the language of all the earth: and from thence did the Lord scatter them abroad upon the face of all the earth.
+
+These are the generations of Shem: Shem was an hundred years old, and begat Arphaxad two years after the flood: and Shem lived after he begat Arphaxad five hundred years, and begat sons and daughters.
+
+And Arphaxad lived five and thirty years, and begat Salah: and Arphaxad lived after he begat Salah four hundred and three years, and begat sons and daughters.
+
+And Salah lived thirty years, and begat Eber: and Salah lived after he begat Eber four hundred and three years, and begat sons and daughters.
+
+And Eber lived four and thirty years, and begat Peleg: and Eber lived after he begat Peleg four hundred and thirty years, and begat sons and daughters.
+
+And Peleg lived thirty years, and begat Reu: and Peleg lived after he begat Reu two hundred and nine years, and begat sons and daughters.
+
+And Reu lived two and thirty years, and begat Serug: and Reu lived after he begat Serug two hundred and seven years, and begat sons and daughters.
+
+And Serug lived thirty years, and begat Nahor: and Serug lived after he begat Nahor two hundred years, and begat sons and daughters.
+
+And Nahor lived nine and twenty years, and begat Terah: and Nahor lived after he begat Terah an hundred and nineteen years, and begat sons and daughters.
+
+And Terah lived seventy years, and begat Abram, Nahor, and Haran.
+
+Now these are the generations of Terah: Terah begat Abram, Nahor, and Haran; and Haran begat Lot. And Haran died before his father Terah in the land of his nativity, in Ur of the Chaldees. And Abram and Nahor took them wives: the name of Abram's wife was Sarai; and the name of Nahor's wife, Milcah, the daughter of Haran, the father of Milcah, and the father of Iscah. But Sarai was barren; she had no child. And Terah took Abram his son, and Lot the son of Haran his son's son, and Sarai his daughter in law, his son Abram's wife; and they went forth with them from Ur of the Chaldees, to go into the land of Canaan; and they came unto Haran, and dwelt there. And the days of Terah were two hundred and five years: and Terah died in Haran.
+
+Now the Lord had said unto Abram, Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred, and from thy father's house, unto a land that I will shew thee: and I will make of thee a great nation, and I will bless thee, and make thy name great; and thou shalt be a blessing: and I will bless them that bless thee, and curse him that curseth thee: and in thee shall all families of the earth be blessed. So Abram departed, as the Lord had spoken unto him; and Lot went with him: and Abram was seventy and five years old when he departed out of Haran. And Abram took Sarai his wife, and Lot his brother's son, and all their substance that they had gathered, and the souls that they had gotten in Haran; and they went forth to go into the land of Canaan; and into the land of Canaan they came.
+
+And Abram passed through the land unto the place of Sichem, unto the plain of Moreh. And the Canaanite was then in the land. And the Lord appeared unto Abram, and said, Unto thy seed will I give this land: and there builded he an altar unto the Lord, who appeared unto him. And he removed from thence unto a mountain on the east of Beth-el, and pitched his tent, having Beth-el on the west, and Hai on the east: and there he builded an altar unto the Lord, and called upon the name of the Lord. And Abram journeyed, going on still toward the south.
+
+And there was a famine in the land: and Abram went down into Egypt to sojourn there; for the famine was grievous in the land. And it came to pass, when he was come near to enter into Egypt, that he said unto Sarai his wife. Behold now, I know that thou art a fair woman to look upon: therefore it shall come to pass, when the Egyptians shall see thee, that they shall say, This is his wife: and they will kill me, but they will save thee alive. Say, I pray thee, thou art my sister: that it may be well with me for thy sake; and my soul shall live because of thee.
+
+And it came to pass, that, when Abram was come into Egypt, the Egyptians beheld the woman that she was very fair. The princes also of Pharaoh saw her, and commended her before Pharaoh: and the woman was taken into Pharaoh's house. And he entreated Abram well for her sake: and he had sheep, and oxen, and he asses, and menservants, and maidservants, and she asses, and camels. And the Lord plagued Pharaoh and his house with great plagues because of Sarai Abram's wife. And Pharaoh called Abram, and said, What is this that thou hast done unto me? why didst thou not tell me that she was thy wife.Why saidst thou, She is my sister? so I might have taken her to me to wife: now therefore behold thy wife, take her, and go thy way. And Pharaoh commanded his men concerning him: and they sent him away, and his wife, and all that he had.
+
+And Abram went up out of Egypt, he, and his wife, and all that he had, and Lot with him, into the south. And Abram was very rich in cattle, in silver, and in gold. And he went on his journeys from the south even to Beth-el, unto the place where his tent had been at the beginning, between Beth-el and Hai; unto the place of the altar, which he had made there at the first: and there Abram called on the name of the Lord.
+
+And Lot also, which went with Abram, had flocks, and herds, and tents. And the land was not able to bear them, that they might dwell together: for their substance was great, so that they could not dwell together. And there was a strife between the herdmen of Abram's cattle and the herdmen of Lot's cattle: and the Canaanite and the Perizzite dwelled then in the land. And Abram said unto Lot, Let there be no strife, I pray thee, between me and thee, and between my herdmen and thy herdmen; for we be brethren. Is not the whole land before thee? separate thyself, I pray thee, from me: if thou wilt take the left hand, then I will go to the right; or if thou depart to the right hand, then I will go to the left. And Lot lifted up his eyes, and beheld all the plain of Jordan, that it was well watered every where, before the Lord destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah, even as the garden of the Lord, like the land of Egypt, as thou comest unto Zoar. Then Lot chose him all the plain of Jordan; and Lot journeyed east: and they separated themselves the one from the other. Abram dwelled in the land of Canaan, and Lot dwelled in the cities of the plain, and pitched his tent toward Sodom. But the men of Sodom were wicked and sinners before the Lord exceedingly.
+
+And the Lord said unto Abram, after that Lot was separated from him, Lift up now thine eyes, and look from the place where thou art northward, and southward, and eastward, and westward: for all the land which thou seest, to thee will I give it, and to thy seed for ever. And I will make thy seed as the dust of the earth: so that if a man can number the dust of the earth, then shall thy seed also be numbered. Arise, walk through the land in the length of it and in the breadth of it; for I will give it unto thee. Then Abram removed his tent, and came and dwelt in the plain of Mamre, which is in Hebron, and built there an altar unto the Lord.
+
+And it came to pass in the days of Amraphel king of Shinar, Arioch king of Ellasar, Chedorlaomer king of Elam, and Tidal king of nations; that these made war with Bera king of Sodom, and with Birsha king of Gomorrah, Shinab king of Admah, and Shemeber king of Zeboiim, and the king of Bela, which is Zoar. All these were joined together in the vale of Siddim, which is the salt sea. Twelve years they served Chedorlaomer, and in the thirteenth year they
+
+
+
+
+
+"THE VALE OF SIDDIM, WHICH IS THE SALT SEA."—Genesis xiv.
+
+
+
+
+
+rebelled. And in the fourteenth year came Chedorlaomer, and the kings that were with him, and smote the Rephaims in Ashteroth Karnaim, and the Zuzims in Ham, and the Emims in Shaveh Kiriathaim, and the Horites in their mount Seir, unto El-paran, which is by the wilderness. And they returned, and came to En-mishpat, which is Kadesh, and smote all the country of the Amalekites, and also the Amorites, that dwelt in Hazezon-tamar. And there went out the king of Sodom, and the king of Gomorrah, and the king of Admah,and the king of Zeboiim, and the king of Bela (the same is Zoar;) and they joined battle with them in the vale of Siddim; with Chedorlaomer the king of Elam, and with Tidal king of nations, and Amraphel king of Shinar,and Arioch king of Ellasar; four kings with five. And the vale of Siddim was full of slimepits; and the kings of Sodom and Gomorrah fled, and fell there; and they that remained fled to the mountain. And they took all the goods of Sodom and Gomorrah, and all their victuals, and went their way. And they took Lot, Abram's brother's son, who dwelt in Sodom, and his goods, and departed.
+
+And there came one that had escaped, and told Abram the Hebrew; for he dwelt in the plain of Mamre the Amorite, brother of Eshcol, and brother of Aner: and these were confederate with Abram. And when Abram heard that his brother was taken captive, he armed his trained servants, born in his own house, three hundred and eighteen, and pursued them unto Dan. And he divided himself against them, he and his servants, by night, and smote them, and pursued them unto Hobah, which is on the left hand of Damascus. And he brought back all the goods, and also brought again his brother Lot, and his goods, and the women also, and the people.
+
+And the king of Sodom went out to meet him after his return from the slaughter of Chedorlaomer, and of the kings that were with him, at the valley of Shaveh, which is the king's dale. And Melchizedek king of Salem brought forth bread and wine: and he was the priest of the most high God. And he blessed him, and said, Blessed be Abram of the most high God, possessor of heaven and earth: and blessed be the most high God, which hath delivered thine enemies into thy hand. And he gave him tithes of all. And the king of Sodom said unto Abram, Give me the person, and take the goods to thyself. And Abram said to the king of Sodom, I have lift up mine hand unto the Lord, the most high God, the possessor of heaven and earth, that I will not take from a thread even to a shoelatchet, and that I will not take any thing that is thine, lest thou shouldest say, I have made Abram rich: save only that which the young men have eaten, and the portion of the men which went with me, Aner, Eshcol, and Mamre; let them take their portion.
+
+After these things the word of the Lord came unto Abram in a vision, saying, Fear not, Abram: I am thy shield, and thy exceeding great reward. And Abram said, Lord God, what wilt thou give me, seeing I go childless, and the steward of my house is this Eliezer of Damascus? And Abram said, Behold, to me thou hast given no seed: and, lo, one born in my house is mine heir. And, behold, the word of the Lord came unto him, saying, This shall not be thine heir; but he that shall come forth out of thine own bowels shall be thine heir. And he brought him forth abroad, and said, Look now toward heaven, and tell the stars, if thou be able to number them: and he said unto him, So shall thy seed be. And he believed in the Lord; and he counted it to him for righteousness. And he said unto him, I am the Lord that brought thee out of Ur of the Chaldees, to give thee this land to inherit it. And he said, Lord God, whereby shall I know that I shall inherit it? And he said unto him, Take me an heifer of three years old, and a she goat of three years old, and a ram of three years old, and a turtledove, and a young pigeon. And he took unto him all these, and divided them in the midst, and laid each piece one against another: but the birds divided he not. And when the fowls came down upon the carcases, Abram drove them away. And when the sun was going down, a deep sleep fell upon Abram; and, lo, an horror of great darkness fell upon him. And he said unto Abram, Know of a surety that thy seed shall be a stranger in a land that is not their's, and shall serve them; and they shall afflict them four hundred years; and also that nation, whom they shall serve, will I judge: and afterward shall they come out with great substance. And thou shalt go to thy fathers in peace; thou shalt be buried in a good old age. But in the fourth generation they shall come hither again: for the iniquity of the Amorites is not yet full. And it came to pass, that, when the sun went down, and it was dark, behold a smoking furnace, and a burning lamp that passed between those pieces. In the same day the Lord made a covenant with Abram, saying, Unto thy seed have I given this land, from the river of Egypt unto the great river, the river Euphrates: the Kenites, and the Kenizzites, and the Kadmonites, and the Hittites, and the Perizzites, and the Rephaims, and the Amorites, and the Canaanites, and the Girgashites, and the Jebusites.
+
+Now Sarai Abram's wife bare him no children: and she had an handmaid, an Egyptian, whose name was Hagar. And Sarai said unto Abram, Behold now, the Lord hath restrained me from bearing: I pray thee, go in unto my maid; it may be that I may obtain children by her. And Abram hearkened to the voice of Sarai. And Sarai Abram's wife took Hagar her maid the Egyptian, after Abram had dwelt ten years in the land of Canaan, and gave her to her husband Abram to be his wife.
+
+And he went in unto Hagar, and she conceived: and when she saw that she had conceived, her mistress was despised in her eyes. And Sarai said unto Abram, My wrong be upon thee: I have given my maid into thy bosom; and when she saw that she had conceived, I was despised in her eyes: the Lord judge between me and thee. But Abram said unto Sarai, Behold, thy maid is in thy hand; do to her as it pleaseth thee. And when Sarai dealt hardly with her, she fled from her face.
+
+And the angel of the Lord found her by a fountain of water in the wilderness, by the fountain in the way to Shur. And he said, Hagar, Sarai's maid, whence camest thou? and whither wilt thou go? And she said, I flee from the face of my mistress Sarai. And the angel of the Lord said unto her, Return to thy mistress, and submit thyself under her hands. And the angel of the Lord said unto her, I will multiply thy seed exceedingly, that it shall not be numbered for multitude. And the angel of the Lord said unto her, Behold, thou art with child, and shalt bear a son, and shalt call his name Ishmael; because the Lord hath heard thy affliction. And he will be a wild man; his hand will be against every man, and every man's hand against him; and he shall dwell in the presence of all his brethren. And she called the name of the Lord that spake unto her. Thou God seest me: for she said, Have I also here looked after him that seeth me? Wherefore the well was called Beer-lahai-roi; behold, it is between Kadesh and Bered.
+
+And Hagar bare Abram a son: and Abram called his son's name, which Hagar bare, Ishmael. And Abram was fourscore and six years old, when Hagar bare Ishmael to Abram.
+
+And when Abram was ninety years old and nine, the Lord appeared to Abram, and said unto him, I am the Almighty God; walk before me, and be thou perfect. And I will make my covenant between me and thee, and will multiply thee exceedingly. And Abram fell on his face: and God talked with him, saying. As for me, behold, my covenant is with thee, and thou shalt be a father of many nations. Neither shall thy name any more be called Abram, but thy name shall be Abraham; for a father of many nations have I made thee. And I will make thee exceeding fruitful, and I will make nations of thee, and kings shall come out of thee. And I will establish my covenant between me and thee and thy seed after thee in their generations for an everlasting covenant, to be a God unto thee, and to thy seed after thee. And I will give unto thee, and to thy seed after thee, the land wherein thou art a stranger, all the land of Canaan, for an everlasting possession; and I will be their God.
+
+And God said unto Abraham, Thou shalt keep my covenant therefore, thou, and thy seed after thee in their generations. This is my covenant, which ye shall keep, between me and you and thy seed after thee; Every man child among you shall be circumcised. And ye shall circumcise the flesh of your foreskin; and it shall be a token of the covenant betwixt me and you. And he that is eight days old shall be circumcised among you, every man child in your generations, he that is born in the house, or bought with money of any stranger, which is not of thy seed. He that is born in thy house, and he that is bought with thy money, must needs be circumcised: and my covenant shall be in your flesh for an everlasting covenant. And the uncircumcised man child whose flesh of his foreskin is not circumcised, that soul shall be cut off from his people; he hath broken my covenant.
+
+And God said unto Abraham, As for Sarai thy wife, thou shalt not call her name Sarai, but Sarah shall her name be. And I will bless her, and give thee a son also of her: yea, I will bless her, and she shall be a mother of nations; kings of people shall be of her. Then Abraham fell upon his face, and laughed, and said in his heart, Shall a child be born unto him that is an hundred years old? and shall Sarah, that is ninety years old, bear? And Abraham said unto God, O that Ishmael might live before thee! And God said, Sarah thy wife shall bear thee a son indeed; and thou shalt call his name Isaac: and I will establish my covenant with him for an everlasting covenant, and with his seed after him. And as for Ishmael, I have heard thee: Behold, I have blessed him, and will make him fruitful, and will multiply him exceedingly; twelve princes shall he beget, and I will make him a great nation. But my covenant will I establish with Isaac, which Sarah shall bear unto thee at this set time in the next year. And he left off talking with him, and God went up from Abraham.
+
+And Abraham took Ishmael his son, and all that were born in his house, and all that were bought with
+
+
+
+
+
+"AND ABRAHAM . . BOUND ISAAC HIS SON, AND LAID HIM ON THE ALTAR UPON THE WOOD."—Genesis xxii.
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+
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+his money, every male among the men of Abraham's house; and circumcised the flesh of their foreskin in the selfsame day, as God had said unto him. And Abraham was ninety years old and nine, when he was circumcised in the flesh of his foreskin. And Ishmael his son was thirteen years old, when he was circumcised in the flesh of his foreskin. In the self-same day was Abraham circumcised, and Ishmael his son. And all the men of his house, born in the house, and bought with money of the stranger, were circumcised with him.
+
+And the Lord appeared unto him in the plains of Mamre: and he sat in the tent door in the heat of the day; and he lift up his eyes and looked, and, lo, three men stood by him: and when he saw them, he ran to meet them from the tent door, and bowed himself toward the ground, and said, My Lord, if now I have found favour in thy sight, pass not away, I pray thee, from thy servant: let a little water, I pray you, be fetched, and wash your feet, and rest yourselves under the tree: and I will fetch a morsel of bread, and comfort ye your hearts; after that ye shall pass on: for therefore are ye come to your servant. And they said, So do, as thou hast said. And Abraham hastened into the tent unto Sarah, and said, Make ready quickly three measures of fine meal, knead it, and make cakes upon the hearth. And Abraham ran unto the herd, and fetcht a calf tender and good, and gave it unto a young man; and he hasted to dress it. And he took butter, and milk, and the calf which he had dressed, and set it before them; and he stood by them under the tree, and they did eat.
+
+And they said unto him. Where is Sarah thy wife? And he said, Behold, in the tent. And he said, I will certainly return unto thee according to the time of life; and, lo, Sarah thy wife shall have a son. And Sarah heard it in the tent door, which was behind him. Now Abraham and Sarah were old and well stricken in age; and it ceased to be with Sarah after the manner of women. Therefore Sarah laughed within herself, saying. After I am waxed old shall I have pleasure, my lord being old also? And the Lord said unto Abraham, Wherefore did Sarah laugh, saying. Shall I of a surety bear a child, which am old? Is any thing too hard for the Lord? At the time appointed I will return unto thee, according to the time of life, and Sarah shall have a son. Then Sarah denied, saying, I laughed not; for she was afraid. And he said, Nay; but thou didst laugh.
+
+And the men rose up from thence, and looked toward Sodom: and Abraham went with them to bring them on the way. And the Lord said, Shall I hide from Abraham that thing which I do; seeing that Abraham shall surely become a great and mighty nation, and all the nations of the earth shall be blessed in him? For I know him, that he will command his children and his household after him, and they shall keep the way of the Lord, to do justice and judgment; that the Lord may bring upon Abraham that which he hath spoken of him. And the Lord said, Because the cry of Sodom and Gomorrah is great, and because their sin is very grievous; I will go down now, and see whether they have done altogether according to the cry of it, which is come unto me; and if not, I will know. And the men turned their faces from thence, and went toward Sodom: but Abraham stood yet before the Lord.
+
+And Abraham drew near, and said, Wilt thou also destroy the righteous with the wicked? Peradventure there be fifty righteous within the city: wilt thou also destroy and not spare the place for the fifty righteous that are therein? That be far from thee to do after this manner, to slay the righteous with the wicked: and that the righteous should be as the wicked, that be far from thee: shall not the Judge of all the earth do right? And the Lord said, If I find in Sodom fifty righteous within the city, then I will spare all the place for their sakes. And Abraham answered and said, Behold now, I have taken upon me to speak unto the Lord, which am but dust and ashes: peradventure there shall lack five of the fifty righteous: wilt thou destroy all the city for lack of five? And he said, If I find there forty and five, I will not destroy it. And he spake unto him yet again, and said, Peradventure there shall be forty found there. And he said, I will not do it for forty's sake. And he said unto him, Oh let not the Lord be angry, and I will speak: peradventure there shall thirty be found there. And he said, I will not do it, if I find thirty there. And he said, Behold now, I have taken upon me to speak unto the Lord: peradventure there shall be twenty found there. And he said, I will not destroy it for twenty's sake. And he said, Oh let not the Lord be angry, and I will speak yet but this once: peradventure ten shall be found there. And he said, I will not destroy it for ten's sake. And the Lord went his way, as soon as he had left communing with Abraham: and Abraham returned unto his place.
+
+And there came two angels to Sodom at even; and Lot sat in the gate of Sodom: and Lot seeing them rose up to meet them; and he bowed himself with his face toward the ground; and he said, Behold now, my lords, turn in, I pray you, into your servant's house, and tarry all night, and wash your feet, and ye shall rise up early, and go on your ways. And they said, Nay; but we will abide in the street all night. And he pressed upon them greatly; and they turned in unto him, and entered into his house; and he made them a feast, and did bake unleavened bread, and they did eat.
+
+But before they lay down, the men of the city, even the men of Sodom, compassed the house round, both old and young, all the people from every quarter: and they called unto Lot, and said unto him. Where are the men which came in to thee this night? bring them out unto us, that we may know them. And Lot went out at the door unto them, and shut the door after him, and said, I pray you, brethren, do not so wickedly. Behold now, I have two daughters which have not known man; let me, I pray you, bring them out unto you, and do ye to them as is good in your eyes: only unto these men do nothing; for therefore came they under the shadow of my roof. And they said, Stand back. And they said again, This one fellow came in to sojourn, and he will needs be a judge: now will we deal worse with thee, than with them. And they pressed sore upon the man, even Lot, and came near to break the door. But the men put forth their hand, and pulled Lot into the house to them, and shut to the door. And they smote the men that were at the door of the house with blindness, both small and great: so that they wearied themselves to find the door.
+
+And the men said unto Lot, Hast thou here any besides? son in law, and thy sons, and thy daughters, and whatsoever thou hast in the city, bring them out of this place: for we will destroy this place, because the cry of them is waxen great before the face of the Lord; and the Lord hath sent us to destroy it. And Lot went out, and spake unto his sons in law, which married his daughters, and said, Up, get you out of this place; for the Lord will destroy this city. But he seemed as one that mocked unto his sons in law.
+
+And when the morning arose, then the angels hastened Lot, saying. Arise, take thy wife, and thy two daughters, which are here; lest thou be consumed in the iniquity of the city. And while he lingered, the men laid hold upon his hand, and upon the hand of his wife, and upon the hand of his two daughters; the Lord being merciful unto him: and they brought him forth, and set him without the city.
+
+And it came to pass, when they had brought them forth abroad, that he said, Escape for thy life; look not behind thee, neither stay thou in all the plain; escape to the mountain, lest thou be consumed. And Lot said unto them, Oh, not so, my Lord: behold now, thy servant hath found grace in thy sight, and thou hast magnified thy mercy, which thou hast shewed unto me in saving my life; and I cannot escape to the mountain, lest some evil take me, and I die: behold now, this city is near to flee unto, and it is a little one: oh, let me escape thither, (is it not a little one?) and my soul shall live. And he said unto him. See, I have accepted thee concerning this thing also, that I will not overthrow this city, for the which thou hast spoken. Haste thee, escape thither; for I cannot do any thing till thou be come thither. Therefore the name of the city was called Zoar.
+
+The sun was risen upon the earth when Lot entered into Zoar. Then the Lord rained upon Sodom and upon Gomorrah brimstone and fire from the Lord out of heaven; and he overthrew those cities, and all the plain, and all the inhabitants of the cities, and that which grew upon the ground.
+
+But his wife looked back from behind him, and she became a pillar of salt.
+
+And Abraham gat up early in the morning to the place where he stood before the Lord: and he looked toward Sodom and Gomorrah, and toward all the land of the plain, and beheld, and, lo, the smoke of the country went up as the smoke of a furnace.
+
+
+
+And it came to pass, when God destroyed the cities of the plain, that God remembered Abraham, and sent Lot out of the midst of the overthrow, when he overthrew the cities in the which Lot dwelt.
+
+And Lot went up out of Zoar, and dwelt in the mountain, and his two daughters with him; for he feared to dwell in Zoar: and he dwelt in a cave, he and his two daughters. And the firstborn said unto the younger. Our father is old, and there is not a man in the earth to come in unto us after the manner of all the earth: come, let us make our father drink wine, and we will lie with him, that we may preserve seed of our father. And they made their father drink wine that night: and the firstborn went in, and lay with her father; and he perceived not when she lay down, nor when she arose. And it came to pass on the morrow, that the firstborn said unto the younger. Behold, I lay yesternight with my father: let us make him drink wine this night also; and go thou in, and lie with him, that we may preserve seed of our father. And they made their father drink wine that night also: and the younger arose, and lay with him; and he perceived not when she lay down, nor when she arose. Thus were both the daughters of Lot with child by their father. And the firstborn bare a son, and called his name Moab: the same is the father of the Moabites unto this day. And the younger, she also bare a son, and called his name Ben-ammi: the same is the father of the children of Ammon unto this day.
+
+And Abraham journeyed from thence toward the south country, and dwelled between Kadesh and Shur, and sojourned in Gerar. And Abraham said of Sarah his wife. She is my sister: and Abimelech king of Gerar sent, and took Sarah. But God came to Abimelech in a dream by night, and said to him, Behold, thou art but a dead man, for the woman which thou hast taken; for she is a man's wife. But Abimelech had not come near her: and he said, Lord, wilt thou slay also a righteous nation? Said he not unto me, She is my sister? and she, even she herself said, He is my brother: in the integrity of my heart and innocency of my hands have I done this. And God said unto him in a dream. Yea, I know that thou didst this in the integrity of thy heart; for I also withheld thee from sinning against me: therefore suffered I thee not to touch her. Now therefore restore the man his wife; for he is a prophet, and he shall pray for thee, and thou shalt live: and if thou restore her not, know thou that thou shalt surely die, thou, and all that are thine. Therefore Abimelech rose early in the morning, and called all his servants, and told all these things in their ears: and the men were sore afraid. Then Abimelech called Abraham, and said unto him, What hast thou done unto us? and what have I offended thee, that thou hast brought on me and on my kingdom a great sin? thou hast done deeds unto me that ought not to be done. And Abimelech said unto Abraham, What sawest thou, that thou hast done this thing? And Abraham said, Because I thought, Surely the fear of God is not in this place; and they will slay me for my wife's sake. And yet indeed she is my sister; she is the daughter of my father, but not the daughter of my mother; and she became my wife. And it came to pass, when God caused me to wander from my father's house, that I said unto her. This is thy kindness which thou shalt shew unto me; at every place whither we shall come, say of me, He is my brother. And Abimelech took sheep, and oxen, and menservants, and womenservants, and gave them unto Abraham, and restored him Sarah his wife. And Abimelech said, Behold, my land is before thee: dwell where it pleaseth thee. And unto Sarah he said, Behold, I have given thy brother a thousand pieces of silver: behold, he is to thee a covering of the eyes, unto all that are with thee, and with all other: thus she was reproved.
+
+So Abraham prayed unto God: and God healed Abimelech, and his wife, and his maidservants; and they bare children. For the Lord had fast closed up all the wombs of the house of Abimelech, because of Sarah Abraham's wife.
+
+And the Lord visited Sarah as he had said, and the Lord did unto Sarah as he had spoken. For Sarah conceived, and bare Abraham a son in his old age, at the set time of which God had spoken to him. And Abraham called the name of his son that was born unto him, whom Sarah bare to him, Isaac. And Abraham circumcised his son Isaac being eight days old, as God had commanded him. And Abraham was an hundred years old, when his son Isaac was born unto him.
+
+And Sarah said, God hath made me to laugh, so that all that hear will laugh with me. And she said, Who would have said unto Abraham, that Sarah should have given children suck? for I have born him a son in his old age. And the child grew, and was weaned: and Abraham made a great feast the same day that Isaac was weaned.
+
+And Sarah saw the son of Hagar the Egyptian, which she had born unto Abraham, mocking. Wherefore she said unto Abraham, Cast out this bondwoman and her son: for the son of this bondwoman shall not be heir with my son, even with Isaac. And the thing was very grievous in Abraham's sight because of his son.
+
+And God said unto Abraham, Let it not be grievous in thy sight because of the lad, and because of thy bondwoman; in all that Sarah hath said unto thee, hearken unto her voice; for in Isaac shall thy seed be called. And also of the son of the bondwoman will I make a nation, because he is thy seed. And Abraham rose up early in the morning, and took bread, and a bottle of water, and gave it unto Hagar, putting it on her shoulder, and the child, and sent her away: and she departed, and wandered in the wilderness of Beer-sheba. And the water was spent in the bottle, and she cast the child under one of the shrubs. And she went, and sat her down over against him a good way off, as it were a bowshot: for she said, Let me not see the death of the child. And she sat over against him, and lift up her voice, and wept. And God heard the voice of the lad; and the angel of God called to Hagar out of heaven, and said unto her, What aileth thee, Hagar? fear not; for God hath heard the voice of the lad where he is. Arise, lift up the lad, and hold him in thine hand; for I will make him a great nation. And God opened her eyes, and she saw a well of water; and she went, and filled the bottle with water, and gave the lad drink. And God was with the lad; and he grew, and dwelt in the wilderness, and became an archer. And he dwelt in the wilderness of Paran: and his mother took him a wife out of the land of Egypt.
+
+And it came to pass at that time, that Abimelech and Phichol the chief captain of his host spake unto Abraham, saying, God is with thee in all that thou doest: now therefore swear unto me here by God that thou wilt not deal falsely with me, nor with my son, nor with my son's son: but according to the kindness that I have done unto thee, thou shalt do unto me, and to the land wherein thou hast sojourned. And Abraham said, I will swear. And Abraham reproved Abimelech because of a well of water, which Abimelech's servants had violently taken away. And Abimelech said, I wot not who hath done this thing: neither didst thou tell me, neither yet heard I of it, but to day. And Abraham took sheep and oxen, and gave them unto Abimelech; and both of them made a covenant. And Abraham set seven ewe lambs of the flock by themselves. And Abimelech said unto Abraham, What mean these seven ewe lambs which thou hast set by themselves? And he said, For these seven ewe lambs shalt thou take of my hand, that they may be a witness unto me, that I have digged this well. Wherefore he called that place Beer-sheba; because there they sware both of them. Thus they made a covenant at Beer-sheba: then Abimelech rose up, and Phichol the chief captain of his host, and they returned into the land of the Philistines.
+
+And Abraham planted a grove in Beer-sheba, and called there on the name of the Lord, the everlasting God. And Abraham sojourned in the Philistines' land many days.
+
+And it came to pass after these things, that God did tempt Abraham, and said unto him, Abraham: and he said, Behold, here I am. And he said, Take now thy son, thine only son Isaac, whom thou lovest, and get thee into the land of Moriah; and offer him there for a burnt offering upon one of the mountains which I will tell thee of.
+
+And Abraham rose up early in the morning, and saddled his ass, and took two of his young men with him, and Isaac his son, and clave the wood for the burnt offering, and rose up, and went unto the place of which God had told him. Then on the third day Abraham lifted up his eyes, and saw the place afar off. And Abraham said unto his young men, Abide ye here with the ass; and I and the lad will go yonder and worship, and come again to you. And Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering, and laid it upon Isaac his son; and he took the fire in his hand, and a knife; and they went both of them together. And Isaac spake unto Abraham his father, and said, My father: and he said, Here am I, my son. And he said,Behold the fire and the wood: but where is the lamb for a burnt offering? And Abraham said, My son, God will provide himself a lamb for a burnt offering: so they went both of them together. And they came to the place which God had told him of; and Abraham built an altar there, and laid the wood in order, and bound Isaac his son, and laid him on the altar upon the wood. And Abraham stretched forth his hand, and took the knife to slay his son. And the angel of the Lord called unto him out of heaven, and said, Abraham, Abraham: and he said, Here am I. And he said, Lay not thine hand upon the lad, neither do thou any thing unto him: for now I know that thou fearest God, seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thine only son from me. And Abraham lifted up his eyes, and looked, and behold behind him a ram caught in a thicket by his horns: and Abraham went and took the ram, and offered him up for a burnt offering in the stead of his son. And Abraham called the name of that place Jehovah-jireh: as it is said to this day. In the mount of the Lord it shall be seen.
+
+And the angel of the Lord called unto Abraham out of heaven the second time, and said, By myself have I sworn, saith the Lord, for because thou hast done this thing, and hast not withheld thy son, thine only son: that in blessing I will bless thee, and in multiplying I will multiply thy seed as the stars of the heaven, and as the sand which is upon the sea shore; and thy seed shall possess the gate of his enemies; and in thy seed shall all the nations of the earth be blessed; because thou hast obeyed my voice. So Abraham returned unto his young men, and they rose up and went together to Beer-sheba; and Abraham dwelt at Beer-sheba.
+
+And it came to pass after these things, that it was told Abraham, saying. Behold, Milcah, she hath also born children unto thy brother Nahor; Huz his firstborn, and Buz his brother, and Kemuel the father of Aram, and Chesed, and Hazo, and Pildash, and Jidlaph, and Bethuel. And Bethuel begat Rebekah: these eight Milcah did bear to Nahor, Abraham's brother. And his concubine, whose name was Reumah, she bare also Tebah, and Gaham, and Thahash, and Maachah.
+
+And Sarah was an hundred and seven and twenty years old: these were the years of the life of Sarah. And Sarah died in Kirjath-arba; the same is Hebron in the land of Canaan: and Abraham came to mourn for Sarah, and to weep for her.
+
+And Abraham stood up from before his dead, and
+
+
+
+
+
+"THE TIME THAT WOMEN GO OUT TO DRAW WATER."—Genesis xxiv.
+
+
+
+
+
+spake unto the sons of Heth, saying, I am a stranger and a sojourner with you: give me a possession of a buryingplace with you, that I may bury my dead out of my sight. And the children of Heth answered Abraham, saying unto him. Hear us, my lord: thou art a mighty prince among us: in the choice of our sepulchres bury thy dead; none of us shall withhold from thee his sepulchre, but that thou mayest bury thy dead. And Abraham stood up, and bowed himself to the people of the land, even to the children of Heth, And he communed with them, saying. If it be your mind that I should bury my dead out of my sight; hear me, and intreat for me to Ephron the son of Zohar, that he may give me the cave of Machpelah, which he hath, which is in the end of his field; for as much money as it is worth he shall give it me for a possession of a buryingplace amongst you. And Ephron dwelt among the children of Heth: and Ephron the Hittite answered Abraham in the audience of the children of Heth, even of all that went in at the gate of his city, saying. Nay, my lord, hear me: the field give I thee, and the cave that is therein, I give it thee; in the presence of the sons of my people give I it thee: bury thy dead. And Abraham bowed down himself before the people of the land. And he spake unto Ephron in the audience of the people of the land, saying, But if thou wilt give it, I pray thee, hear me: I will give thee money for the field; take it of me, and I will bury my dead there. And Ephron answered Abraham, saying unto him,My lord, hearken unto me: the land is worth four hundred shekels of silver; what is that betwixt me and thee? bury therefore thy dead. And Abraham hearkened unto Ephron; and Abraham weighed to Ephron the silver, which he had named in the audience of the sons of Heth, four hundred shekels of silver, current money with the merchant.
+
+And the field of Ephron, which was in Machpelah; which was before Mamre, the field, and the cave which was therein, and all the trees that were in the field, that were in all the borders round about, were made sure unto Abraham for a possession in the presence of the children of Heth, before all that went in at the gate of his city. And after this, Abraham buried Sarah his wife in the cave of the field of Machpelah before Mamre: the same is Hebron in the land of Canaan. And the field, and the cave that is therein, were made sure unto Abraham for a possession of a buryingplace by the sons of Heth.
+
+And Abraham was old, and well stricken in age: and the Lord had blessed Abraham in all things. And Abraham said unto his eldest servant of his house, that ruled over all that he had, Put, I pray thee, thy hand under my thigh: and I will make thee swear by the Lord, the God of heaven, and the God of the earth, that thou shalt not take a wife unto my son of the daughters of the Canaanites, among whom I dwell: but thou shalt go unto my country, and to my kindred, and take a wife unto my son Isaac. And the servant said unto him, Peradventure the woman will not be willing to follow me unto this land: must I needs bring thy son again unto the land from whence thou camest? And Abraham said unto him. Beware thou that thou bring not my son thither again.
+
+The Lord God of heaven, which took me from my father's house, and from the land of my kindred, and which spake unto me, and that sware unto me, saying. Unto thy seed will I give this land; he shall send his angel before thee, and thou shalt take a wife unto my son from thence. And if the woman will not be willing to follow thee, then thou shalt be clear from this my oath: only bring not my son thither again. And the servant put his hand under the thigh of Abraham his master, and sware to him concerning that matter.
+
+And the servant took ten camels of the camels of his master, and departed: for all the goods of his master were in his hand: and he arose, and went to Mesopotamia, unto the city of Nahor. And he made his camels to kneel down without the city by a well of water at the time of the evening, even the time that women go out to draw water. And he said, O Lord God of my master Abraham, I pray thee, send me good speed this day, and shew kindness unto my master Abraham. Behold, I stand here by the well of water; and the daughters of the men of the city come out to draw water: and let it come to pass, that the damsel to whom I shall say, Let down thy pitcher, I pray thee, that I may drink; and she shall say, Drink, and I will give thy camels drink also: let the same be she that thou hast appointed for thy servant Isaac; and thereby shall I know that thou hast shewed kindness unto my master.
+
+And it came to pass, before he had done speaking, that, behold, Rebekah came out, who was born to Bethuel, Son of Milcah, the wife of Nahor, Abraham's brother, with her pitcher upon her shoulder. And the damsel was very fair to look upon, a virgin, neither had any man known her: and she went down to the well, and filled her pitcher, and came up. And the servant ran to meet her, and said, Let me, I pray thee, drink a little water of thy pitcher. And she said,Drink, my lord: and she hasted, and let down her pitcher upon her hand, and gave him drink. And when she had done giving him drink, she said, I will draw water for thy camels also, until they have done drinking. And she hasted, and emptied her pitcher into the trough, and ran again unto the well to draw water, and drew for all his camels. And the man wondering at her held his peace, to wit whether the Lord had made his journey prosperous or not. And it came to pass, as the camels had done drinking, that the man took a golden earring of half a shekel weight, and two bracelets for her hands of ten shekels weight of gold; and said, Whose daughter art thou? tell me, I pray thee: is there room in thy father's house for us to lodge in? And she said unto him, I am the daughter of Bethuel the son of Milcah, which she bare unto Nahor. She said moreover unto him, We have both straw and provender enough, and room to lodge in. And the man bowed down his head, and worshipped the Lord. And he said, Blessed be the Lord God of my master Abraham, who hath not left destitute my master of his mercy and his truth: I being in the way, the Lord led me to the house of my master's brethren. And the damsel ran, and told them of her mother's house these things.
+
+And Rebekah had a brother, and his name was Laban: and Laban ran out unto the man, unto the well. And it came to pass, when he saw the earring and bracelets upon his sister's hands, and when he heard the words of Rebekah his sister, saying, Thus spake the man unto me ; that he came unto the man; and, behold, he stood by the camels at the well. And he said, Come in, thou blessed of the Lord; wherefore standest thou without? for I have prepared the house, and room for the camels.
+
+And the man came into the house: and he ungirded his camels, and gave straw and provender for the camels, and water to wash his feet, and the men's feet that were with him. And there was set meat before him to eat: but he said, I will not eat, until I have told mine errand. And he said, Speak on. And he said, I am Abraham's servant. And the Lord hath blessed my master greatly; and he is become great: and he hath given him flocks, and herds, and silver, and gold, and menservants, and maidservants, and camels, and asses. And Sarah my master's wife bare a son to my master when she was old: and unto him hath he given all that he hath. And my master made me swear, saying. Thou shalt not take a wife to my son of the daughters of the Canaanites, in whose land I dwell: but thou shalt go unto my father's house, and to my kindred, and take a wife unto my son. And I said unto my master, Peradventure the woman will not follow me. And he said unto me. The Lord, before whom I walk, will send his angel with thee, and prosper thy way; and thou shalt take a wife for my son of my kindred, and of my father's house: then shalt thou be clear from this my oath, when thou comest to my kindred; and if they give not thee one, thou shalt be clear from my oath. And I came this day unto the well, and said, O Lord God of my master Abraham, if now thou do prosper my way which I go: behold, I stand by the well of water; and it shall come to pass, that when the virgin cometh forth to draw water, and I say to her. Give me, I pray thee, a little water of thy pitcher to drink; and she say to me. Both drink thou, and I will also draw for thy camels: let the same be the woman whom the Lord hath appointed out for my master's son. And before I had done speaking in mine heart, behold, Rebekah came forth with her pitcher on her shoulder; and she went down unto the well, and drew water: and I said unto her. Let me drink, I pray thee. And she made haste, and let down her pitcher from her shoulder, and said, Drink, and I will give thy camels drink also: so I drank, and she made the camels drink also. And I asked her, and said, Whose daughter art thou? And she said, The daughter of Bethuel, Nahor's son, whom Milcah bare unto him: and I put the earring upon her face, and the bracelets upon her hands. And I bowed down my head, and worshipped the Lord, and blessed the Lord God of my master Abraham, which had led me in the right way to take my master's brother's daughter unto his son. And now if ye will deal kindly and truly with my master, tell me: and if not, tell me; that I may turn to the right hand, or to the left. Then Laban and Bethuel answered and said, The thing proceedeth from the Lord: we cannot speak unto thee bad or good. Behold, Rebekah is before thee, take her, and go, and let her be thy master's son's wife, as the Lord hath spoken. And it came to pass, that, when Abraham's servant heard their words, he worshipped the Lord, bowing himself to the earth. And the servant brought forth jewels of silver, and jewels of gold, and raiment, and gave them to Rebekah: he gave also to her brother and to her mother precious things. And they did eat and drink, he and the men that were with him, and tarried all night; and they rose up in the morning, and he said, Send me away unto my master. And her brother and her mother said, Let the damsel abide with us a few days, at the least ten; after that she shall go. And he said unto them, Hinder me not, seeing the Lord hath prospered my way; send me away that I may go to my master. And they said, We will call the damsel, and enquire at her mouth. And they called Rebekah, and said unto her. Wilt thou go with this man? And she said, I will go. And they sent away Rebekah their sister, and her nurse, and Abraham's servant, and his men. And they blessed Rebekah, and said unto her, Thou art our sister, be thou the mother of thousands of millions, and let thy seed possess the gate of those which hate them.
+
+And Rebekah arose, and her damsels, and they rode upon the camels, and followed the man: and the servant took Rebekah, and went his way. And Isaac came from the way of the well Lahai-roi; for he dwelt in the south country. And Isaac went out to meditate in the field at the eventide: and he lifted up his eyes, and saw, and, behold, the camels were coming. And Rebekah lifted up her eyes, and when she saw Isaac, she lighted off the camel. For she had said unto the servant, What man is this that walketh in the field to meet us? And the servant had said, It is my master: therefore she took a vail, and covered herself. And the servant told Isaac all things that he had done. And Isaac brought her into his mother Sarah's tent, and took Rebekah, and she became his wife; and he loved her: and Isaac was comforted after his mother's death.
+
+Then again Abraham took a wife, and her name was Keturah. And she bare him Zimran, and Jokshan, and Medan, and Midian, and Ishbak,and Shuah. And Jokshan begat Sheba, and Dedan. And the sons of Dedan were Asshurim, and Letushim, and Leummim. And the sons of Midian; Ephah, and Epher, and Hanoch, and Abidah, and Eldaah. All these were the children of Keturah.
+
+And Abraham gave all that he had unto Isaac. But unto the sons of the concubines, which Abraham had, Abraham gave gifts, and sent them away from Isaac his son, while he yet lived, eastward, unto the east country. And these are the days of the years of Abraham's life which he lived, an hundred threescore and fifteen years. Then Abraham gave up the ghost, and died in a good old age, an old man, and full of years; and was gathered to his people. And his sons Isaac and Ishmael buried him in the cave of Machpelah, in the field of Ephron the son of Zohar the Hittite, which is before Mamre; the field which Abraham purchased of the sons of Heth: there was Abraham buried, and Sarah his wife.
+
+And it came to pass after the death of Abraham, that God blessed his son Isaac; and Isaac dwelt by the well Lahai-roi.
+
+Now these are the generations of Ishmael, Abraham's son, whom Hagar the Egyptian, Sarah's handmaid, bare unto Abraham: and these are the names of the sons of Ishmael, by their names, according to their generations: the firstborn of Ishmael, Nebajoth; and Kedar, and Adbeel, and Mibsam, and Mishma, and Dumah, and Massa, Hadar, and Tema, Jetur, Naphish, and Kedemah: these are the sons of Ishmael, and these are their names, by their towns, and by their castles; twelve princes according to their nations. And these are the years of the life of Ishmael, an hundred and thirty and seven years: and he gave up the ghost and died; and was gathered unto his people. And they dwelt from Havilah unto Shur, that is before Egypt, as thou goest toward Assyria: and he died in the presence of all his brethren.
+
+And these are the generations of Isaac, Abraham's son: Abraham begat Isaac: and Isaac was forty years old when he took Rebekah to wife, the daughter of Bethuel the Syrian of Padan-aram, the sister to Laban the Syrian. And Isaac intreated the Lord for his wife, because she was barren: and the Lord was intreated of him, and Rebekah his wife conceived. And the children struggled together within her; and she said, If it be so, why am I thus? And she went to enquire of the Lord. And the Lord said unto her,
+
+Two nations are in thy womb,
+
+And two manner of people shall be separated from thy bowels;
+
+And the one people shall be stronger than the other people;
+
+
+
+And the elder shall serve the younger.
+
+And when her days to be delivered were fulfilled, behold, there were twins in her womb. And the first came out red, all over like an hairy garment; and they called his name Esau. And after that came his brother out, and his hand took hold on Esau's heel; and his name was called Jacob: and Isaac was threescore years old when she bare them. And the boys grew: and Esau was a cunning hunter, a man of the field; and Jacob was a plain man, dwelling in tents. And Isaac loved Esau, because he did eat of his venison: but Rebekah loved Jacob.
+
+And Jacob sod pottage: and Esau came from the field, and he was faint: and Esau said to Jacob, Feed me, I pray thee, with that same red pottage; for I am faint: therefore was his name called Edom. And Jacob said, Sell me this day thy birthright. And Esau said, Behold, I am at the point to die: and what profit shall this birthright do to me? And Jacob said, Swear to me this day; and he sware unto him: and he sold his birthright unto Jacob. Then Jacob gave Esau bread and pottage of lentiles; and he did eat and drink, and rose up, and went his way: thus Esau despised his birthright.
+
+
+
+And there was a famine in the land, beside the first famine that was in the days of Abraham. And Isaac went unto Abimelech king of the Philistines unto Gerar. And the Lord appeared unto him, and said, Go not down into Egypt; dwell in the land which I shall tell thee of: sojourn in this land, and I will be with thee, and will bless thee; for unto thee, and unto thy seed, I will give all these countries, and I will perform the oath which I sware unto Abraham thy father; and I will make thy seed to multiply as the stars of heaven, and will give unto thy seed all these countries; and in thy seed shall all the nations of the earth be blessed; because that Abraham obeyed my voice, and kept my charge, my commandments, my statutes, and my laws.
+
+And Isaac dwelt in Gerar: and the men of the place asked him of his wife; and he said, She is my sister: for he feared to say. She is my wife; lest, said he, the men of the place should kill me for Rebekah; because she was fair to look upon. And it came to pass, when he had been there a long time, that Abimelech king of the Philistines looked out at a window, and saw, and, behold, Isaac was sporting with Rebekah his wife. And Abimelech called Isaac, and said, Behold, of a surety she is thy wife: and how saidst thou, She is my sister? And Isaac said unto him, Because I said, Lest I die for her. And Abimelech said, What is this thou hast done unto us? one of the people might lightly have lien with thy wife, and thou shouldest have brought guiltiness upon us. And Abimelech charged all his people, saying. He that toucheth this man or his wife shall surely be put to death.
+
+Then Isaac sowed in that land, and received in the same year an hundredfold: and the Lord blessed him. And the man waxed great, and went forward, and grew until he became very great: for he had possession of flocks, and possession of herds, and great store of servants: and the Philistines envied him. For all the wells which his father's servants had digged in the days of Abraham his father, the Philistines had stopped them, and filled them with earth. And Abimelech said unto Isaac, Go from us; for thou art much mightier than we.
+
+And Isaac departed thence, and pitched his tent in the valley of Gerar, and dwelt there. And Isaac digged again the wells of water, which they had digged in the days of Abraham his father; for the Philistines had stopped them after the death of Abraham: and he called their names after the names by which his father had called them. And Isaac's servants digged in the valley, and found there a well of springing water. And the herdmen of Gerar did strive with Isaac's herdmen, saying, The water is our's: and he called the name of the well Esek; because they strove with him. And they digged another well, and strove for that also: and he called the name of it Sitnah. And he removed from thence, and digged another well; and for that they strove not: and he called the name of it Rehoboth; and he said, For now the Lord hath made room for us, and we shall be fruitful in the land. And he went up from thence to Beer-sheba. And the Lord appeared unto him the same night, and said, I am the God of Abraham thy father: fear not, for I am with thee, and will bless thee, and multiply thy seed for my servant Abraham's sake. And he builded an altar there, and called upon the name of the Lord, and pitched his tent there: and there Isaac's servants digged a well.
+
+Then Abimelech went to him from Gerar, and Ahuzzath one of his friends, and Phichol the chief captain of his army. And Isaac said unto them, Wherefore come ye to me, seeing ye hate me, and have sent me away from you? And they said, We saw certainly that the Lord was with thee: and we said, Let there be now an oath betwixt us, even betwixt us and thee, and let us make a covenant with thee; that thou wilt do us no hurt, as we have not touched thee, and as we have done unto thee nothing but good, and have sent thee away in peace: thou art now the blessed of the Lord. And he made them a feast, and they did eat and drink. And they rose up betimes in the morning, and sware one to another: and Isaac sent them away, and they departed from him in peace. And it came to pass the same day, that Isaac's servants came, and told him concerning the well which they had digged, and said unto him. We have found water. And he called it Shebah: therefore the name of the city is Beer-sheba unto this day.
+
+And Esau was forty years old when he took to wife Judith the daughter of Beeri the Hittite, and Bashemath the daughter of Elon the Hittite: which were a grief of mind unto Isaac and to Rebekah.
+
+And it came to pass, that when Isaac was old, and his eyes were dim, so that he could not see, he called Esau his eldest son, and said unto him. My son: and he said unto him, Behold, here am I. And he said, Behold now, I am old, I know not the day of my death: now therefore take, I pray thee, thy weapons, thy quiver and thy bow, and go out to the field, and take me some venison; and make me savoury meat, such as I love, and bring it to me, that I may eat; that my soul may bless thee before I die.
+
+And Rebekah heard when Isaac spake to Esau his son. And Esau went to the field to hunt for
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+"AND HE LIFTED UP HIS EYES, AND SAW, AND BEHOLD THE CAMELS WERE COMING."—Genesis xvii.
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+venison, and to bring it. And Rebekah spake unto Jacob her son, saying, Behold, I heard thy father speak unto Esau thy brother, saying, Bring me venison, and make me savoury meat, that I may eat, and bless thee before the Lord before my death. Now therefore, my son, obey my voice according to that which I command thee. Go now to the flock, and fetch me from thence two good kids of the goats; and I will make them savoury meat for thy father, such as he loveth: and thou shalt bring it to thy father, that he may eat, and that he may bless thee before his death. And Jacob said to Rebekah his mother, Behold, Esau my brother is a hairy man, and I am a smooth man: my father peradventure will feel me, and I shall seem to him as a deceiver; and I shall bring a curse upon me, and not a blessing. And his mother said unto him, Upon me be thy curse, my son: only obey my voice, and go fetch me them. And he went, and fetched, and brought them to his mother: and his mother made savoury meat, such as his father loved. And Rebekah took goodly raiment of her eldest son Esau, which were with her in the house, and put them upon Jacob her younger son: and she put the skins of the kids of the goats upon his hands, and upon the smooth of his neck: and she gave the savoury meat and the bread, which she had prepared, into the hand of her son Jacob. And he came unto his father, and said, My father: and he said, Here am I; who art thou, my son? And Jacob said unto his father, I am Esau thy firstborn; I have done according as thou badest me: arise, I pray thee, sit and eat of my venison, that thy soul may bless me. And Isaac said unto his son. How is it that thou hast found it so quickly, my son? And he said, Because the Lord thy God brought it to me. And Isaac said unto Jacob, Come near, I pray thee, that I may feel thee, my son, whether thou be my very son Esau or not. And Jacob went near unto Isaac his father; and he felt him, and said, The voice is Jacob's voice, but the hands are the hands of Esau. And he discerned him not, because his hands were hairy, as his brother Esau's hands: so he blessed him. And he said, Art thou my very son Esau? And he said, I am. And he said, Bring it near to me, and I will eat of my son's venison, that my soul may bless thee. And he brought it near to him, and he did eat: and he brought him wine, and he drank. And his father Isaac said unto him, Come near now, and kiss me, my son. And he came near, and kissed him: and he smelled the smell of his raiment, and blessed him, and said, See, the smell of my son is as the smell of a field which the Lord hath blessed: therefore God give thee of the dew of heaven, and the fatness of the earth, and plenty of corn and wine: let people serve thee, and nations bow down to thee: be lord over thy brethren, and let thy mother's sons bow down to thee: cursed be every one that curseth thee, and blessed be he that blesseth thee.
+
+And it came to pass, as soon as Isaac had made an end of blessing Jacob, and Jacob was yet scarce gone out from the presence of Isaac his father, that Esau his brother came in from his hunting. And he also had made savoury meat, and brought it unto his father, and said unto his father, Let my father arise, and eat of his son's venison, that thy soul may bless me. And Isaac his father said unto him. Who art thou? And he said, I am thy son, thy firstborn Esau. And Isaac trembled very exceedingly, and said, Who? where is he that hath taken venison, and brought it me, and I have eaten of all before thou camest, and have blessed him? yea, and he shall be blessed. And when Esau heard the words of his father, he cried with a great and exceeding bitter cry, and said unto his father. Bless me, even me also, O my father. And he said, Thy brother came with subtilty, and hath taken away thy blessing. And he said, Is not he rightly named Jacob? for he hath supplanted me these two times: he took away my birthright; and, behold, now he hath taken away my blessing. And he said, Hast thou not reserved a blessing for me? And Isaac answered and said unto Esau, Behold, I have made him thy lord, and all his brethren have I given to him for servants; and with corn and wine have I sustained him: and what shall I do now unto thee, my son? And Esau said unto his father. Hast thou but one blessing, my father? bless me, even me also, O my father. And Esau lifted up his voice, and wept. And Isaac his father answered and said unto him, Behold, thy dwelling shall be the fatness of the earth, and of the dew of heaven from above; and by thy sword shalt thou live, and shalt serve thy brother; and it shall come to pass when thou shalt have the dominion, that thou shalt break his yoke from off thy neck.
+
+And Esau hated Jacob because of the blessing wherewith his father blessed him: and Esau said in his heart. The days of mourning for my father are at hand; then will I slay my brother Jacob. And these words of Esau her elder son were told to Rebekah: and she sent and called Jacob her younger son, and said unto him, Behold, thy brother Esau, as touching thee, doth comfort himself, purposing to kill thee. Now therefore, my son, obey my voice; and arise, flee thou to Laban my brother to Haran; and tarry with him a few days, until thy brother's fury turn away; until thy brother's anger turn away from thee, and he forget that which thou hast done to him: then I will send, and fetch thee from thence: why should I be deprived also of you both in one day?
+
+And Rebekah said to Isaac, I am weary of my life because of the daughters of Heth: if Jacob take a wife of the daughters of Heth, such as these which are of the daughters of the land, what good shall my life do me?
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+And Isaac called Jacob, and blessed him, and charged him, and said unto him, Thou shalt not take a wife of the daughters of Canaan. Arise, go to Padan-aram, to the house of Bethuel thy mother's father; and take thee a wife from thence of the daughters of Laban thy mother's brother. And God Almighty bless thee, and make thee fruitful, and multiply thee, that thou mayest be a multitude of people; and give thee the blessing of Abraham, to thee, and to thy seed with thee; that thou mayest inherit the land wherein thou art a stranger, which God gave unto Abraham. And Isaac sent away Jacob: and he went to Padan-aram unto Laban, son of Bethuel the Syrian, the brother of Rebekah, Jacob's and Esau's mother.
+
+When Esau saw that Isaac had blessed Jacob, and sent him away to Padan-aram, to take him a wife from thence; and that as he blessed him he gave him a charge, saying, Thou shalt not take a wife of the daughters of Canaan; and that Jacob obeyed his father and his mother, and was gone to Padan-aram; and Esau seeing that the daughters of Canaan pleased not Isaac his father; then went Esau unto Ishmael, and took unto the wives which he had Mahalath the daughter of Ishmael Abraham's son, the sister of Nebajoth, to be his wife.
+
+And Jacob went out from Beer-sheba,and went toward Haran. And he lighted upon a certain place, and tarried there all night, because the sun was set; and he took of the stones of that place, and put them for his pillows, and lay down in that place to sleep. And he dreamed, and behold a ladder set up on the earth, and the top of it reached to heaven: and behold the angels of God ascending and descending on it. And, behold, the Lord stood above it, and said, I am the Lord God of Abraham thy father, and the God of Isaac: the land whereon thou liest, to thee will I give it, and to thy seed; and thy seed shall be as the dust of the earth, and thou shalt spread abroad to the west, and to the east, and to the north, and to the south: and in thee and in thy seed shall all the families of the earth be blessed. And, behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest, and will bring thee again into this land; for I will not leave thee, until I have done that which I have spoken to thee of.
+
+And Jacob awaked out of his sleep, and he said, Surely the Lord is in this place; and I knew it not. And he was afraid, and said, How dreadful is this place! this is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven. And Jacob rose up early in the morning, and took the stone that he had put for his pillows, and set it up for a pillar, and poured oil upon the top of it. And he called the name of that place Beth-el: but the name of that city was called Luz at the first. And Jacob vowed a vow, saying, If God will be with me, and will keep me in this way that I go, and will give me bread to eat, and raiment to put on, so that I come again to my father's house in peace; then shall the Lord be my God: and this stone, which I have set for a pillar, shall be God's house: and of all that thou shalt give me I will surely give the tenth unto thee.
+
+Then Jacob went on his journey, and came into the land of the people of the east. And he looked, and behold a well in the field, and, lo, there were three flocks of sheep lying by it; for out of that well they watered the flocks: and a great stone was upon the well's mouth. And thither were all the flocks gathered: and they rolled the stone from the well's mouth, and watered the sheep, and put the stone again upon the well's mouth in his place. And Jacob said unto them, My brethren, whence be ye? And they said, Of Haran are we. And he said unto them. Know ye Laban the son of Nahor? And they said, We know him. And he said unto them. Is he well? And they said, He is well: and, behold, Rachel his daughter cometh with the sheep. And he said, Lo, it is yet high day, neither is it time that the cattle should be gathered together: water ye the sheep, and go and feed them. And they said, We cannot, until all the flocks be gathered together, and till they roll the stone from the well's mouth; then we water the sheep.
+
+And while he yet spake with them, Rachel came with her father's sheep: for she kept them. And it came to pass, when Jacob saw Rachel the daughter of Laban his mother's brother, and the sheep of Laban his mother's brother, that Jacob went near, and rolled the stone from the well's mouth, and watered the flock of Laban his mother's brother. And Jacob kissed Rachel, and lifted up his voice, and wept. And Jacob told Rachel that he was her father's brother, and that he was Rebekah's son: and she ran and told her father. And it came to pass, when Laban heard the tidings of Jacob his sister's son, that he ran to meet him, and embraced him, and kissed him, andbrought him to his house. And he told Laban all these things. And Laban said to him. Surely thou art my bone and my flesh. And he abode with him the space of a month.
+
+And Laban said unto Jacob, Because thou art my brother, shouldest thou therefore serve me for nought? tell me, what shall thy wages be? And Laban had two daughters: the name of the elder was Leah, and the name of the younger was Rachel. Leah was tender eyed; but Rachel was beautiful and well favoured. And Jacob loved Rachel; and said, I will serve thee seven years for Rachel thy younger daughter. And Laban said, It is better that I give her to thee, than that I should give her to another man: abide with me. And Jacob served seven years for Rachel; and they seemed unto him but a few days, for the love he had to her.
+
+And Jacob said unto Laban, Give me my wife, for my days are fulfilled, that I may go in unto her. And Laban gathered together all the men of the place, and made a feast. And it came to pass in the evening, that he took Leah his daughter, and brought her to him; and he went in unto her. And Laban gave unto his daughter Leah Zilpah his maid for an handmaid. And it came to pass, that in the morning, behold, it was Leah: and he said to Laban, What is this thou hast done unto me? did not I serve with thee for Rachel? wherefore then hast thou beguiled me? And Laban said, It must not be so done in our country, to give the younger before the firstborn. Fulfil her week, and we will give thee this also for the service which thou shalt serve with me yet seven other years. And Jacob did so, and fulfilled her week: and he gave him Rachel his daughter to wife also. And Laban gave to Rachel his daughter Bilhah his handmaid to be her maid. And he went in also unto Rachel, and he loved also Rachel more than Leah, and served with him yet seven other years.
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+And when the Lord saw that Leah was hated, he opened her womb: but Rachel was barren. And Leah conceived, and bare a son, and she called his name Reuben: for she said, Surely the Lord hath looked upon my affliction; now therefore my husband will love me. And she conceived again, and bare a son; and said, Because the Lord hath heard that I was hated, he hath therefore given me this son also: and she called his name Simeon. And she conceived again, and bare a son; and said, Now this time will my husband be joined unto me, because I have born him three sons: therefore was his name called Levi. And she conceived again, and bare a son: and she said, Now will I praise the Lord: therefore she called his name Judah; and left bearing.
+
+And when Rachel saw that she bare Jacob no children, Rachel envied her sister; and said unto Jacob, Give me children, or else I die. And Jacob's anger was kindled against Rachel: and he said, Am I in God's stead, who hath withheld from thee the fruit of the womb? And she said, Behold my maid Bilhah, go in unto her; and she shall bear upon my knees, that I may also have children by her. And she gave him Bilhah her handmaid to wife: and Jacob went in unto her. And Bilhah conceived, and bare Jacob a son. And Rachel said, God hath judged me, and hath also heard my voice, and hath given me a son: therefore called she his name Dan. And Bilhah Rachel's maid conceived again, and bare Jacob a second son. And Rachel said, With great wrestlings have I wrestled with my sister, and I have prevailed: and she called his name Naphtali. When Leah saw that she had left bearing, she took Zilpah her maid, and gave her Jacob to wife. And Zilpah Leah's maid bare Jacob a son. And Leah said, A troop cometh: and she called his name Gad. And Zilpah Leah's maid bare Jacob a second son. And Leah said, Happy am I, for the daughters will call me blessed: and she called his name Asher.
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+And Reuben went in the days of wheat harvest, and found mandrakes in the field, and brought them unto his mother Leah. Then Rachel said to Leah, Give me, I pray thee, of thy son's mandrakes. And she said unto her, Is it a small matter that thou hast taken my husband? and wouldest thou take away my son's mandrakes also? And Rachel said, Therefore he shall lie with thee to night for thy son's mandrakes. And Jacob came out of the field in the evening, and Leah went out to meet him, and said, Thou must come in unto me; for surely I have hired thee with my son's mandrakes. And he lay with her that night. And God hearkened unto Leah, and she conceived, and bare Jacob the fifth son. And Leah said, God hath given me my hire, because I have given my maiden to my husband: and she called his name Issachar. And Leah conceived again, and bare Jacob the sixth son. And Leah said, God hath endued me with a good dowry; now will my husband dwell with me, because I have born him six sons: and she called his name Zebulun. And afterwards she bare a daughter, and called her name Dinah.
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+And God remembered Rachel, and God hearkened to her, and opened her womb. And she conceived, and bare a son; and said, God hath taken away my reproach: and she called his name Joseph; and said, The Lord shall add to me another son.
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+And it came to pass, when Rachel had born Joseph, that Jacob said unto Laban, Send me away, that I may go unto mine own place, and to my country. Give me my wives and my children, for whom I have served thee, and let me go: for thou knowest my service which I have done thee. And Laban said unto him, I pray thee, if I have found favour in thine eyes, tarry: for I have learned by experience that the Lord hath blessed me for thy sake. And he said, Appoint me thy wages, and I will give it. And he said unto him. Thou knowest how I have served thee, and how thy cattle was with me. For it was little which thou hadst before I came, and it is now increased unto a multitude; and the Lord hath blessed thee since my coming: and now when shall I provide for mine own house also? And he said, What shall I give thee? And Jacob said, Thou shalt not give me any thing: if thou wilt do this thing for me, I will again feed and keep thy flock. I will pass through all thy flock to day, removing from thence all the speckled and spotted cattle, and all the brown cattle among the sheep, and the spotted and speckled among the goats: and of such shall be my hire. So shall my righteousness answer for me in time to come, when it shall come for my hire before thy face: every one that is not speckled and spotted among the goats, and brown among the sheep, that shall be counted stolen with me. And Laban said, Behold, I would it might be according to thy word. And he removed that day the he goats that were ringstraked and spotted, and all the she goats that were speckled and spotted, and every one that had some white in it, and all the brown among the sheep, and gave them into the hand of his sons. And he set three days' journey betwixt himself and Jacob: and Jacob fed the rest of Laban's flocks.
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+And Jacob took him rods of green poplar, and of the hazel and chesnut tree; and pilled white strakes in them, and made the white appear which was in the rods. And he set the rods which he had pilled before the flocks in the gutters in the watering troughs when the flocks came to drink, that they should conceive when they came to drink. And the flocks conceived before the rods, and brought forth cattle ringstraked, speckled, and spotted. And Jacob did separate the lambs, and set the faces of the flocks toward the ringstraked, and all the brown in the flock of Laban; and he put his own flocks by themselves, and put them not unto Laban's cattle. And it came to pass, whensoever the stronger cattle did conceive, that Jacob laid the rods before the eyes of the cattle in the gutters, that they might conceive among the rods. But when the cattle were feeble, he put them not in: so the feebler were Laban's, and the stronger Jacob's. And the man increased exceedingly, and had much cattle, and maidservants, and menservants, and camels, and asses.
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+And he heard the words of Laban's sons, saying, Jacob hath taken away all that was our father's; and of that which was our father's hath he gotten all this glory. And Jacob beheld the countenance of Laban, and, behold, it was not toward him as before. And the Lord said unto Jacob, Return unto the land of thy fathers, and to thy kindred; and I will be with thee. And Jacob sent and called Rachel and Leah to the field unto his flock, and said unto them, I see your father's countenance, that it is not toward me as before; but the God of my father hath been with me. And ye know that with all my power I have served your father. And your father hath deceived me, and changed my wages ten times; but God suffered him not to hurt me. If he said thus. The speckled shall be thy wages; then all the cattle bare speckled: and if he said thus. The ringstraked shall be thy hire; then bare all the cattle ringstraked. Thus God hath taken away the cattle of your father, and given them to me. And it came to pass at the time that the cattle conceived, that I lifted up mine eyes, and saw in a dream, and, behold, the rams which leaped upon the cattle were ringstraked, speckled, and grisled. And the angel of God spake unto me in a dream, saying, Jacob: and I said, Here am I. And he said, Lift up now thine eyes, and see, all the rams which leap upon the cattle are ringstraked, speckled, and grisled: for I have seen all that Laban doeth unto thee. I am the God of Beth-el, where thou anointedst the pillar, and where thou vowedst a vow unto me: now arise, get thee out from this land, and return unto the land of thy kindred. And Rachel and Leah answered and said unto him. Is there yet any portion or inheritance for us in our father's house? Are we not counted of him strangers? for he hath sold us, and hath quite devoured also our money. For all the riches which God hath taken from our father, that is our's, and our children's: now then, whatsoever God hath said unto thee, do.
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+Then Jacob rose up, and set his sons and his wives upon camels; and he carried away all his cattle, and all his goods which he had gotten, the cattle of his getting, which he had gotten in Padan-aram, for to go to Isaac his father in the land of Canaan. And Laban went to shear his sheep: and Rachel had stolen the images that were her father's. And Jacob stole away unawares to Laban the Syrian, in that he told him not that he fled. So he fled with all that he had;
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+"AND WHILE HE YET SPAKE WITH THEM, RACHAEL CAME WITH HER FATHER'S SHEEP: FOR SHE KEPT THEM."—Genesis xxix.
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+and he rose up, and passed over the river, and set his face toward the mount Gilead. And it was told Laban on the third day that Jacob was fled. And he took his brethren with him, and pursued after him seven days' journey; and they overtook him in the mount Gilead. And God came to Laban the Syrian in a dream by night, and said unto him. Take heed that thou speak not to Jacob either good or bad.
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+Then Laban overtook Jacob. Now Jacob had pitched his tent in the mount: and Laban with his brethren pitched in the mount of Gilead. And Laban said to Jacob, What hast thou done, that thou hast stolen away unawares to me, and carried away my daughters, as captives taken with the sword? Wherefore didst thou flee away secretly, and steal away from me; and didst not tell me, that I might have sent thee away with mirth, and with songs, with tabret, and with harp? and hast not suffered me to kiss my sons and my daughters? thou hast now done foolishly in so doing. It is in the power of my hand to do you hurt: but the God of your father spake unto me yesternight, saying, Take thou heed that thou speak not to Jacob either good or bad. And now, though thou wouldest needs be gone, because thou sore longedst after thy father's house, yet wherefore hast thou stolen my gods? And Jacob answered and said to Laban, Because I was afraid: for I said, Peradventure thou wouldest take by force thy daughters from me. With whomsoever thou findest thy gods, let him not live: before our brethren discern thou what is thine with me, and take it to thee. For Jacob knew not that Rachel had stolen them. And Laban went into Jacob's tent, and into Leah's tent, and into the two maidservants' tents; but he found them not. Then went he out of Leah's tent, and entered into Rachel's tent. Now Rachel had taken the images, and put them in the camel's furniture, and sat upon them. And Laban searched all the tent, but found them not. And she said to her father. Let it not displease my lord that I cannot rise up before thee; for the custom of women is upon me. And he searched, but found not the images.
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+And Jacob was wroth, and chode with Laban: and Jacob answered and said to Laban, What is my trespass? what is my sin, that thou hast so hotly pursued after me? Whereas thou hast searched all my stuff, what hast thou found of all thy household stuff? set it here before my brethren and thy brethren, that they may judge betwixt us both. This twenty years have I been with thee; thy ewes and thy she goatshave not cast their young, and the rams of thy flock have I not eaten. That which was torn of beasts I brought not unto thee; I bare the loss of it; of my hand didst thou require it, whether stolen by day, or stolen by night. Thus I was; in the day the drought consumed me, and the frost by night; and my sleep departed from mine eyes. Thus have I been twenty years in thy house; I served thee fourteen years for thy two daughters, and six years for thy cattle: and thou hast changed my wages ten times. Except the God of my father, the God of Abraham, and the Fear of Isaac, had been with me, surely thou hadst sent me away now empty. God hath seen mine affliction and the labour of my hands, and rebuked thee yesternight.
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+And Laban answered and said unto Jacob, These daughters are my daughters, and these children are my children, and these cattle are my cattle, and all that thou seest is mine: and what can I do this day unto these my daughters, or unto their children which they have born? Now therefore come thou, let us make a covenant, I and thou; and let it be for a witness between me and thee. And Jacob took a stone, and set it up for a pillar. And Jacob said unto his brethren, Gather stones; and they took stones, and made an heap: and they did eat there upon the heap. And Laban called it Jegar-sahadutha: but Jacob called it Galeed. And Laban said, This heap is a witness between me and thee this day. Therefore was the name of it called Galeed; and Mizpah; for he said, The Lord watch between me and thee, when we are absent one from another. If thou shalt afflict my daughters, or if thou shalt take other wives beside my daughters, no man is with us; see, God is witness betwixt me and thee. And Laban said to Jacob, Behold this heap, and behold this pillar, which I have cast betwixt me and thee; this heap be witness, and this pillar be witness, that I will not pass over this heap to thee, and that thou shalt not pass over this heap and this pillar unto me, for harm. The God of Abraham, and the God of Nahor, the God of their father, judge betwixt us. And Jacob sware by the Fear of his father Isaac. Then Jacob offered sacrifice upon the mount, and called his brethren to eat bread: and they did eat bread, and tarried all night in the mount. And early in the morning Laban rose up, and kissed his sons and his daughters, and blessed them: and Laban departed, and returned unto his place.
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+And Jacob went on his way, and the angels of God met him. And when Jacob saw them, he said, This is God's host: and he called the name of that place Mahanaim. And Jacob sent messengers before him to Esau his brother unto the land of Seir, the country of Edom. And he commanded them, saying, Thus shall ye speak unto my lord Esau; Thy servant Jacob saith thus, I have sojourned with Laban, and stayed there until now: and I have oxen, and asses, flocks, and menservants, and womenservants: and I have sent to tell my lord, that I may find grace in thy sight.
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+And the messengers returned to Jacob, saying, We came to thy brother Esau, and also he cometh to meet thee, and four hundred men with him. Then Jacob was greatly afraid and distressed: and he divided the people that was with him, and the flocks, and herds, and the camels, into two bands; and said, If Esau come to the one company, and smite it, then the other company which is left shall escape.
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+And Jacob said, O God of my father Abraham, and God of my father Isaac, the Lord which saidst unto me, Return unto thy country, and to thy kindred, and I will deal well with thee: I am not worthy of the least of all the mercies, and of all the truth, which thou hast shewed unto thy servant; for with my staff I passed over this Jordan; and now I am become two bands. Deliver me, I pray thee, from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esau: for I fear him, lest he will come and smite me, and the mother with the children. And thou saidst, I will surely do thee good, and make thy seed as the sand of the sea, which cannot be numbered for multitude.
+
+And he lodged there that same night; and took of that which came to his hand a present for Esau his brother; two hundred she goats, and twenty he goats, two hundred ewes, and twenty rams, thirty milch camels with their colts, forty kine, and ten bulls, twenty she asses, and ten foals. And he delivered them into the hand of his servants, every drove by themselves; and said unto his servants. Pass over before me, and put a space betwixt drove and drove. And he commanded the foremost, saying, When Esau my brother meeteth thee, and asketh thee, saying, Whose art thou? and whither goest thou? and whose are these before thee? Then thou shalt say, They be thy servant Jacob's; it is a present sent unto my lord Esau: and, behold, also he is behind us. And so commanded he the second, and the third, and all that followed the droves, saying, On this manner shall ye speak unto Esau, when ye find him. And say ye moreover, Behold, thy servant Jacob is behind us. For he said, I will appease him with the present that goeth before me, and afterward I will see his face; peradventure he will accept of me. So went the present over before him: and himself lodged that night in the company.
+
+And he rose up that night, and took his two wives, and his two womenservants, and his eleven sons, and passed over the ford Jabbok. And he took them, and sent them over the brook, and sent over that he had. And Jacob was left alone; and there wrestled a man with, him until the breaking of the day. And when he saw that he prevailed not against him, he touched the hollow of his thigh; and the hollow of Jacob's thigh was out of joint, as he wrestled with him. And he said, Let me go, for the day breaketh. And he said, I will not let thee go, except thou bless me. And he said unto him, What is thy name? And he said, Jacob. And he said, Thy name shall be called no more Jacob, but Israel: for as a prince hast thou power with God and with men, and hast prevailed. And Jacob asked him, and said, Tell me, I pray thee, thy name. And he said, Wherefore is it that thou dost ask after my name? And he blessed him there. And Jacob called the name of the place Peniel: for I have seen God face to face, and my life is preserved. And as he passed over Penuel the sun rose upon him, and he halted upon his thigh. Therefore the children of Israel eat not of the sinew which shrank, which is upon the hollow of the thigh, unto this day: because he touched the hollow of Jacob's thigh in the sinew that shrank.
+
+And Jacob lifted up his eyes, and looked, and, behold, Esau came, and with him four hundred men. And he divided the children unto Leah, and unto Rachel, and unto the two handmaids. And he put the handmaids and their children foremost, and Leah and her children after, and Rachel and Joseph hindermost. And he passed over before them, and bowed himself to the ground seven times, until he came near to his brother. And Esau ran to meet him, and embraced him, and fell on his neck, and kissed him: and they wept. And he lifted up his eyes, and saw the women and the children; and said, Who are those with thee? And he said, The children which God hath graciously given thy servant. Then the handmaidens came near, they and their children, and they bowed themselves. And Leah also with her children came near, and bowed themselves: and after came Joseph near and Rachel, and they bowed themselves. And he said, What meanest thou by all this drove which I met? And he said. These are to find grace in the sight of my lord. And Esau said, I have enough, my brother; keep that thou hast unto thyself. And Jacob said. Nay, I pray thee, if now I have found grace in thy sight, then receive my present at my hand: for therefore I have seen thy face, as though I had seen the face of God, and thou wast pleased with me. Take, I pray thee, my blessing that is brought to thee; because God hath dealt graciously with me, and because I have enough. And he urged him, and he took it. And he said. Let us take our journey, and let us go, and I will go before thee. And he said unto him, My lord knoweth that the children are tender, and the flocks and herds with young are with me: and if men should overdrive them one day, all the flock will die. Let my lord, I pray thee, pass over before his servant: and I will lead on softly, according as the cattle that goeth before me and the children be able to endure, until I come unto my lord unto Seir. And Esau said, Let me now leave with thee some of the folk that are with me. And he said, What needeth it? let me find grace in the sight of my lord.
+
+So Esau returned that day on his way unto Seir. And Jacob journeyed to Succoth, and built him an house, and made booths for his cattle: therefore the name of the place is called Succoth.
+
+And Jacob came to Shalem, a city of Shechem, which is in the land of Canaan, when he came from Padan-aram; and pitched his tent before the city. And he bought a parcel of a field, where he had spread his tent, at the hand of the children of Hamor, Shechem's father, for an hundred pieces of money. And he erected there an altar, and called it El-elohe-Israel.
+
+And Dinah the daughter of Leah, which she bare unto Jacob, went out to see the daughters of the land. And when Shechem the son of Hamor the Hivite, prince of the country, saw her, he took her, and lay with her, and defiled her. And his soul clave unto Dinah the daughter of Jacob, and he loved the damsel, and spake kindly unto the damsel. And Shechem spake unto his father Hamor, saying, Get me this damsel to wife. And Jacob heard that he had defiled Dinah his daughter: now his sons were with his cattle in the field: and Jacob held his peace until they were come.
+
+And Hamor the father of Shechem went out unto Jacob to commune with him. And the sons of Jacob came out of the field when they heard it: and the men were grieved, and they were very wroth, because he had wrought folly in Israel in lying with Jacob's daughter; which thing ought not to be done. And Hamor communed with them, saying. The soul of my son Shechem longeth for your daughter: I pray you give her him to wife. And make ye marriages with us, and give your daughters unto us, and take our daughters unto you. And ye shall dwell with us: and the land shall be before you; dwell and trade ye therein, and get you possessions therein. And Shechem said unto her father and unto her brethren. Let me find grace in your eyes, and what ye shall say unto me I will give. Ask me never so much dowry and gift, and I will give according as ye shall say unto me: but give me the damsel to wife. And the sons of Jacob answered Shechem and Hamor his father deceitfully, and said, because he had defiled Dinah their sister: and they said unto them, We cannot do this thing, to give our sister to one that is uncircumcised; for that were a reproach unto us: but in this will we consent unto you: if ye will be as we be, that every male of you be circumcised; then will we give our daughters unto you, and we will take your daughters to us, and we will dwell with you, and we will become one people. But if ye will not hearken unto us, to be circumcised; then will we take our daughter, and we will be gone. And their words pleased Hamor, and Shechem Hamor's son. And the young man deferred not to do the thing, because he had delight in Jacob's daughter: and he was more honourable than all the house of his father.
+
+And Hamor and Shechem his son came unto the gate of their city, and communed with the men of their city, saying, These men are peaceable with us; therefore let them dwell in the land, and trade therein; for the land, behold, it is large enough for them; let us take their daughters to us for wives, ahd let us give them our daughters. Only herein will the men consent unto us for to dwell with us, to be one people, if every male among us be circumcised, as they are circumcised. Shall not their cattle and their substance and every beast of their's be our's? only let us consent unto them, and they will dwell with us. And unto Hamor and unto Shechem his son hearkened all that went out of the gate of his city; and every male was circumcised, all that went out of the gate of his city.
+
+And it came to pass on the third day, when they were sore, that two of the sons of Jacob, Simeon and Levi, Dinah's brethren, took each man his sword, and came upon the city boldly, and slew all the males. And they slew Hamor and Shechem his son with the edge of the sword, and took Dinah out of Shechem's house, and went out. The sons of Jacob came upon the slain, and spoiled the city, because they had defiled their sister. They took their sheep, and their oxen, and their asses, and that which was in the city, and that which was in the field, and all their wealth, and all their little ones, and their wives took they captive, and spoiled even all that was in the house. And Jacob said to Simeon and Levi, Ye have troubled me to make me to stink among the inhabitants of the land, among the Canaanites and the Perizzites: and I being few in number, they shall gather themselves together against me, and slay me; and I shall be destroyed, I and my house. And they said. Should he deal with our sister as with an harlot?
+
+And God said unto Jacob, Arise, go up to Beth-el, and dwell there: and make there an altar unto God, that appeared unto thee when thou fleddest from the face of Esau thy brother. Then Jacob said unto his household, and to all that were with him. Put away the strange gods that are among you, and be clean, and change your garments: and let us arise, and go up to Beth-el; and I will make there an altar unto God, who answered me in the day of my distress, and was with me in the way which I went. And they gave unto Jacob all the strange gods which were in their hand, and all their earrings which were in their ears; and Jacob hid them under the oak which was by Shechem. And they journeyed: and the terror of God was upon the cities that were round about them, and they did not pursue after the sons of Jacob.
+
+So Jacob came to Luz, which is in the land of Canaan, that is, Beth-el, he and all the people that were with him. And he built there an altar, and called the place El-beth-el: because there God appeared unto him, when he fled from the face of his brother. But Deborah Rebekah's nurse died, and she was buried beneath Beth-el under an oak: and the name of it was called Allon-bachuth.
+
+And God appeared unto Jacob again, when he came out of Padan-aram, and blessed him. And God said unto him, Thy name is Jacob: thy name shall not be called any more Jacob, but Israel shall be thy name; and he called his name Israel. And God said unto him, I am God Almighty: be fruitful and multiply; a nation and a company of nations shall be of thee, and kings shall come out of thy loins; and the land which I gave Abraham and Isaac, to thee I will give it, and to thy seed after thee will I give the land. And God went up from him in the place where he talked with him. And Jacob set up a pillar in the place where he talked with him, even a pillar of stone: and he poured a drink offering thereon, and he poured oil thereon. And Jacob called the name of the place where God spake with him, Beth-el.
+
+And they journeyed from Beth-el; and there was but a little way to come to Ephrath: and Rachel travailed, and she had hard labour. And it came to pass, when she was in hard labour, that the midwife said unto her, Fear not; thou shalt have this son also. And it came to pass, as her soul was in departing, (for she died) that she called his name Ben-oni: but his father called him Benjamin. And Rachel died, and was buried in the way to Ephrath, which is Beth-lehem. And Jacob set a pillar upon her grave: that is the pillar of Rachel's grave unto this day.
+
+And Israel journeyed, and spread his tent beyond the tower of Edar. And it came to pass, when Israel dwelt in that land, that Reuben went and lay with Bilhah his father's concubine: and Israel heard it.
+
+Now the sons of Jacob were twelve: the sons of Leah; Reuben, Jacob's firstborn, and Simeon, and Levi, and Judah, and Issachar, and Zebulun: the sons of Rachel; Joseph, and Benjamin: and the sons of Bilhah, Rachel's handmaid; Dan, and Naphtali: and the sons of Zilpah, Leah's handmaid; Gad, and Asher: these are the sons of Jacob, which were born to him in Padan-aram.
+
+And Jacob came unto Isaac his father unto Mamre, unto the city of Arbah, which is Hebron, where Abraham and Isaac sojourned. And the days of Isaac were an hundred and fourscore years. And Isaac gave up the ghost, and died, and was gathered unto his people, being old and full of days: and his sons Esau and Jacob buried him.
+
+Now these are the generations of Esau, who is Edom. Esau took his wives of the daughters of Canaan; Adah the daughter of Elon the Hittite, and Aholibamah the daughter of Anah the daughter of Zibeon the Hivite; and Bashemath Ishmael's daughter, sister of Nebajoth. And Adah bare to Esau Eliphaz; and Bashemath bare Reuel; and Aholibamah bare Jeush, and Jaalam, and Korah: these are the sons of Esau, which were born unto him in the land of Canaan. And Esau took his wives, and his sons, and his daughters, and all the persons of his house, and his cattle, and all his beasts, and all his substance, which he had got in the land of Canaan; and went into the country from the face of his brother Jacob. For their riches were more than that they might dwell together; and the land wherein they were strangers could not bear them because of their cattle. Thus dwelt Esau in mount Seir: Esau is Edom.
+
+And these are the generations of Esau the father of the Edomites in mount Seir: these are the names of Esau's sons; Eliphaz the son of Adah the wife of Esau, Reuel the son of Bashemath the wife of Esau. And the sons of Eliphaz were Teman, Omar, Zepho, and Gatam, and Kenaz. And Timna was concubine to Eliphaz Esau's son; and she bare to Eliphaz Amalek: these were the sons of Adah Esau's wife. And these are the sons of Reuel; Nahath, and Zerah, Shammah, and Mizzah: these were the sons of Bashemath Esau's wife. And these were the sons of Aholibamah, the daughter of Anah the daughter of Zibeon, Esau's wife: and she bare to Esau Jeush, and Jaalam, and Korah.
+
+These were dukes of the sons of Esau: the sons of Eliphaz the firstborn son of Esau: duke Teman, duke Omar, duke Zepho, duke Kenaz, duke Korah,
+
+
+
+
+
+"AND RACHEL DIED, AND WAS BURIED IN THE WAY TO EPHRATH."—Genesis xxxv.
+
+
+
+
+
+duke Gatam, and duke Amalek: these are the dukes that came of Eliphaz in the land of Edom; these were the sons of Adah.
+
+And these are the sons of Reuel Esau's son; duke Nahath, duke Zerah, duke Shammah, duke Mizzah: these are the dukes that came of Reuel in the land of Edom; these are the sons of Bashemath Esau's wife.
+
+And these are the sons of Aholibamah Esau's wife; duke Jeush, duke Jaalam, duke Korah: these were the dukes that came of Aholibamah the daughter of Anah, Esau's wife. These are the sons of Esau, who is Edom, and these are their dukes.
+
+These are the sons of Seir the Horite, who inhabited the land; Lotan, and Shobal, and Zibeon, and Anah, and Dishon, and Ezer, and Dishan: these are the dukes of the Horites, the children of Seir in the land of Edom. And the children of Lotan were Hori and Hemam; and Lotan's sister was Timna. And the children of Shobal were these; Alvan, and Manahath, and Ebal, Shepho, and Onam. And these are the children of Zibeon; both Ajah, and Anah: this was that Anah that found the mules in the wilderness, as he fed the asses of Zibeon his father. And the children of Anah were these; Dishon, and Aholibamah the daughter of Anah. And these are the children of Dishon; Hemdan, and Eshban, and Ithran, and Cheran. The children of Ezer are these; Bilhan, and Zaavan, and Akan. The children of Dishan are these; Uz, and Aran. These are the dukes that came of the Horites; duke Lotan, duke Shobal, duke Zibeon, duke Anah, duke Dishon, duke Ezer, duke Dishan: these are the dukes that came of Hori, among their dukes in the land of Seir.
+
+And these are the kings that reigned in the land of Edom, before there reigned any king over the children of Israel. And Bela the son of Beor reigned in Edom: and the name of his city was Dinhabah. And Bela died, and Jobab the son of Zerah of Bozrah reigned in his stead. And Jobab died, and Husham of the land of Temani reigned in his stead. And Husham died, and Hadad the son of Bedad, who smote Midian in the field of Moab, reigned in his stead: and the name of his city was Avith. And Hadad died, and Samlah of Masrekah reigned in his stead. And Samlah died, and Saul of Rehoboth by the river reigned in his stead. And Saul died, and Baal-hanan the son of Achbor reigned in his stead. And Baal-hanan the son of Achbor died, and Hadar reigned in his stead: and the name of his city was Pau; and his wife's name was Mehetabel, the daughter of Matred, the daughter of Mezahab. And these are the names of the dukes that came of Esau, according to their families, after their places, by their names; duke Timnah, duke Alvah, duke Jetheth, duke Aholibamah, duke Elah, duke Pinon, duke Kenaz, duke Teman, duke Mibzar, duke Magdiel, duke Iram: these be the dukes of Edom, according to their habitations in the land of their possession: he is Esau the father of the Edomites.
+
+And Jacob dwelt in the land wherein his father was a stranger, in the land of Canaan. These are the generations of Jacob. Joseph, being seventeen years old, was feeding the flock with his brethren; and the lad was with the sons of Bilhah, and with the sons of Zilpah, his father's wives: and Joseph brought unto his father their evil report. Now Israel loved Joseph more than all his children, because he was the son of his old age: and he made him a coat of many colours. And when his brethren saw that their father loved him more than all his brethren, they hated him, and could not speak peaceably unto him.
+
+And Joseph dreamed a dream, and he told it his brethren: and they hated him yet the more. And he said unto them, Hear, I pray you, this dream which I have dreamed: for, behold, we were binding sheaves in the field, and, lo, my sheaf arose, and also stood upright; and, behold, your sheaves stood round about, and made obeisance to my sheaf. And his brethren said to him, Shalt thou indeed reign over us? or shalt thou indeed have dominion over us? And they hated him yet the more for his dreams, and for his words.
+
+And he dreamed yet another dream, and told it his brethren, and said, Behold, I have dreamed a dream more; and, behold, the sun and the moon and the eleven stars made obeisance to me. And he told it to his father, and to his brethren: and his father rebuked him, and said unto him. What is this dream that thou hast dreamed? Shall I and thy mother and thy brethren indeed come to bow down ourselves to thee to the earth? And his brethren envied him; but his father observed the saying.
+
+And his brethren went to feed their father's flock in Shechem. And Israel said unto Joseph, Do not thy brethren feed the flock in Shechem? come, and I will send thee unto them. And he said to him, Here am I. And he said to him, Go, I pray thee, see whether it be well with thy brethren, and well with the flocks; and bring me word again. So he sent him out of the vale of Hebron, and he came to Shechem.
+
+And a certain man found him, and, behold, he was wandering in the field: and the man asked him, saying, What seekest thou? And he said, I seek my brethren: tell me, I pray thee, where they feed their flocks. And the man said, They are departed hence; for I heard them say, Let us go to Dothan. And Joseph went after his brethren, and found them in Dothan. And when they saw him afar off, even before he came near unto them, they conspired against him to slay him. And they said one to another, Behold, this dreamer cometh. Come now therefore, and let us slay him, and cast him into some pit, and we will say, Some evil beast hath devoured him: and we shall see what will become of his dreams. And Reuben heard it, and he delivered him out of their hands; and said. Let us not kill him. And Reuben said unto them, Shed no blood, but cast him into this pit that is in the wilderness, and lay no hand upon him; that he might rid him out of their hands, to deliver him to his father again.
+
+And it came to pass, when Joseph was come unto his brethren, that they stript Joseph out of his coat, his coat of many colours that was on him; and they took him, and cast him into a pit: and the pit was empty, there was no water in it. And they sat down to eat bread: and they lifted up their eyes and looked, and, behold, a company of Ishmeelites came from Gilead with their camels bearing spicery and balm and myrrh, going to carry it down to Egypt. And Judah said unto his brethren. What profit is it if we slay our brother, and conceal his blood? Come, and let us sell him to the Ishmeelites, and let not our hand be upon him; for he is our brother and our flesh. And his brethren were content. Then there passed by Midianites merchantmen; and they drew and lifted up Joseph out of the pit, and sold Joseph to the Ishmeelites for twenty pieces of silver: and they brought Joseph into Egypt.
+
+And Reuben returned unto the pit; and, behold, Joseph was not in the pit; and he rent his clothes. And he returned unto his brethren, and said. The child is not; and I, whither shall I go? And they took Joseph's coat, and killed a kid of the goats, and dipped the coat in the blood; and they sent the coat of many colours, and they brought it to their father; and said, This have we found: know now whether it be thy son's coat or no. And he knew it, and said. It is my son's coat; an evil beast hath devoured him; Joseph is without doubt rent in pieces. And Jacob rent his clothes, and put sackcloth upon his loins, and mourned for his son many days. And all his sons and all his daughters rose up to comfort him; but he refused to be comforted; and he said, For I will go down into the grave unto my son mourning. Thus his father wept for him. And the Midianites sold him into Egypt unto Potiphar, an officer of Pharaoh's, and captain of the guard.
+
+And it came to pass at that time, that Judah went down from his brethren, and turned in to a certain Adullamite, whose name was Hirah. And Judah saw there a daughter of a certain Canaanite, whose name was Shuah; and he took her, and went in unto her. And she conceived, and bare a son; and he called his name Er. And she conceived again, and bare a son; and she called his name Onan. And she yet again conceived, and bare a son; and called his name Shelah: and he was at Chezib, when she bare him. And Judah took a wife for Er his firstborn, whose name was Tamar. And Er, Judah's firstborn, was wicked in the sight of the Lord; and the Lord slew him. And Judah said unto Onan, Go in unto thy brother's wife, and marry her, and raise up seed to thy brother. And Onan knew that the seed should not be his; and it came to pass, when he went in unto his brother's wife, that he spilled it on the ground, lest that he should give seed to his brother. And the thing which he did displeased the Lord: wherefore he slew him also. Then said Judah to Tamar his daughter in law. Remain a widow at thy father's house, till Shelah my son be grown: for he said, Lest perad venture he die also, as his brethren did. And Tamar went and dwelt in her father's house.
+
+And in process of time the daughter of Shuah Judah's wife died; and Judah was comforted, and went up unto his sheepshearers to Timnath, he and his friend Hirah the Adullamite. And it was told Tamar, saying, Behold thy father in law goeth up to Timnath to shear his sheep. And she put her widow's garments off from her, and covered her with a vail, and wrapped herself, and sat in an open place, which is by the way to Timnath; for she saw that Shelah was grown, and she was not given unto him to wife. When Judah saw her, he thought her to be an harlot; because she had covered her face. And he turned unto her by the way, and said. Go to, I pray thee, let me come in unto thee; (for he knew not that she was his daughter in law.) And she said, What wilt thou give me, that thou mayest come in unto me? And he said, I will send thee a kid from the flock. And she said, Wilt thou give me a pledge, till thou send it? And he said, What pledge shall I give thee? And she said, Thy signet, and thy bracelets, and thy staff that is in thine hand. And he gave it her, and came in unto her, and she conceived by him. And she arose, and went away, and laid by her vail from her, and put on the garments of her widowhood. And Judah sent the kid by the hand of his friend the Adullamite, to receive his pledge from the woman's hand: but he found her not. Then he asked the men of that place, saying, Where is the harlot, that was openly by the way side? And they said, There was no harlot in this place. And he returned to Judah, and said, I cannot find her; and also the men of the place said, that there was no harlot in this place. And Judah said, Let her take it to her, lest we be shamed: behold, I sent this kid, and thou hast not found her.
+
+And it came to pass about three months after, that it was told Judah, saying, Tamar thy daughter in law hath played the harlot; and also, behold, she is with child by whoredom. And Judah said. Bring her forth, and let her be burnt. When she was brought forth, she sent to her father in law, saying, By the man, whose these are, am I with child: and she said. Discern, I pray thee, whose are these, the signet, and bracelets, and staff. And Judah acknowledged them, and said, She hath been more righteous than I; becausethat I gave her not to Shelah my son. And he knew her again no more.
+
+And it came to pass in the time of her travail, that, behold, twins were in her womb. And it came to pass, when she travailed, that the one put out his hand: and the midwife took and bound upon his hand a scarlet thread, saying, This came out first. And it came to pass, as he drew back his hand, that, behold, his brother came out: and she said, How hast thou brokenforth? this breach be upon thee: therefore his name was called Pharez. And afterward came out his brother, that had the scarlet thread upon his hand: and his name was called Zarah.
+
+And Joseph was brought down to Egypt; and Potiphar, an officer of Pharaoh, captain of the guard, an Egyptian, bought him of the hands of the Ishmeelites, which had brought him down thither. And the Lord was with Joseph, and he was a prosperous man; and he was in the house of his master the Egyptian. And his master saw that the Lord was with him, and that the Lord made all that he did to prosper in his hand. And Joseph found grace in his sight, and he served him: and he made him overseer over his house, and all that he had he put into his hand. And it came to pass from the time that he had made him overseer in his house, and over all that he had, that the Lord blessed the Egyptian's house for Joseph's sake; and the blessing of the Lord was upon all that he had in the house, and in the field. And he left all that he had In Joseph's hand; and he knew not ought he had, save the bread which he did eat.
+
+And Joseph was a goodly person, and well favoured. And it came to pass after these things, that his master's wife cast her eyes upon Joseph; and she said, Lie with me. But he refused, and said unto his master's wife. Behold, my master wotteth not what is with me in the house, and he hath committed all that he hath to my hand; there is none greater in this house than I; neither hath he kept back any thing from me but thee, because thou art his wife: how then can I do this great wickedness, and sin against God? And it came to pass, as she spake to Joseph day by day, that he hearkened not unto her, to lie by her, or to be with her. And it came to pass about this time, that Joseph went into the house to do his business; and there was none of the men of the house there within. And she caught him by his garment, saying, Lie with me: and he left his garment in her hand, and fled, and got him out. And it came to pass, when she saw that he had left his garment in her hand, and was fled forth, that she called unto the men of her house, and spake unto them, saying. See, he hath brought in an Hebrew unto us to mock us; he came in unto me to lie with me, and I cried with a loud voice: and it came to pass, when he heard that I lifted up my voice and cried, that he left his garment with me, and fled, and got him out. And she laid up his garment by her, until his lord came home. And she spake unto him according to these words, saying, The Hebrew servant, which thou hast brought unto us, came in unto me to mock me: and it came to pass, as I lifted up my voice and cried, that he left his garment with me, and fled out. And it came to pass, when his master heard the words of his wife, which she spake unto him, saying, After this manner did thy servant to me; that his wrath was kindled. And Joseph's master took him, and put him into the prison, a place where the king's prisoners were bound: and he was there in the prison.
+
+But the Lord was with Joseph, and shewed him mercy, and gave him favour in the sight of the keeper of the prison. And the keeper of the prison committed to Joseph's hand all the prisoners that were in the prison; and whatsoever they did there, he was the doer of it. The keeper of the prison looked not to any thing that was under his hand; because the Lord was with him, and that which he did, the Lord made it to prosper.
+
+And it came to pass after these things, that the butler of the king of Egypt and his baker had offended their lord the king of Egypt. And Pharaoh was wroth against two of his officers, against the chief of the butlers, and against the chief of the bakers. And he put them in ward in the house of the captain of the guard, into the prison, the place where Joseph was bound. And the captain of the guard charged Joseph with them, and he served them: and they continued a season in ward.
+
+And they dreamed a dream both of them, each man his dream in one night, each man according to the interpretation of his dream, the butler and the baker of the king of Egypt, which were bound in the prison. And Joseph came in unto them in the morning, and looked upon them, and, behold, they were sad. And he asked Pharaoh's officers that were with him in the ward of his lord's house, saying. Wherefore look ye so sadly to day? And they said unto him, We have dreamed a dream, and there is no interpreter of it. And Joseph said unto them. Do not interpretations belong to God? tell me them, I pray you. And the chief butler told his dream to Joseph, and said to him, In my dream, behold, a vine was before me; and in the vine were three branches: and it was as though it budded, and her blossoms shot forth; and the clusters thereof brought forth ripe grapes: and Pharaoh's cup was in my hand: and I took the grapes, and pressed them into Pharaoh's cup, and I gave the cup into Pharaoh's hand. And Joseph said unto him. This is the interpretation of it: The three branches are three days: yet within three days shall Pharaoh lift up thine head, and restore thee unto thy place: and thou shalt deliver Pharaoh's cup into his hand, after the former manner when thou wast his butler. But think on me when it shall be well with thee, and shew kindness, I pray thee, unto me, and make mention of me unto Pharaoh, and bring me out of this house: for indeed I was stolen away out of the land of the Hebrews: and here also have I done nothing that they should put me into the dungeon. When the chief baker saw that the interpretation was good, he said unto Joseph, I also was in my dream, and, behold, I had three white baskets on my head: and in the uppermost basket there was of all manner of bakemeats for Pharaoh; and the birds did eat them out of the basket upon my head. And Joseph answered and said, This is the interpretation thereof: The three baskets are three days: yet within three days shall Pharaoh lift up thy head from off thee, and shall hang thee on a tree; and the birds shall eat thy flesh from off thee.
+
+And it came to pass the third day, which was Pharaoh's birthday, that he made a feast unto all his servants: and he lifted up the head of the chief butler and of the chief baker among his servants. And he restored the chief butler unto his butlership again; and he gave the cup into Pharaoh's hand: but he hanged the chief baker: as Joseph had interpreted to them. Yet did not the chief butler remember Joseph, but forgat him.
+
+And it came to pass at the end of two full years, that Pharaoh dreamed: and, behold, he stood by the river. And, behold, there came up out of the river seven well favoured kine and fatfleshed; and they fed in a meadow. And, behold, seven other kine came up after them out of the river, ill favoured and leanfleshed; and stood by the other kine upon the brink of the river. And the ill favoured and leanfleshed kine did eat up the seven well favoured and fat kine. So Pharaoh awoke. And he slept and dreamed the second time: and, behold, seven ears of corn came up upon one stalk, rank and good. And, behold, seven thin ears and blasted with the east wind sprung up after them. And the seven thin ears devoured the seven rank and full ears. And Pharaoh awoke, and, behold, it was a dream. And it came to pass in the morning that his spirit was troubled; and he sent and called for all the magicians of Egypt, and all the wise men thereof: and Pharaoh told them his dream; but there was none that could interpret them unto Pharaoh.
+
+Then spake the chief butler unto Pharaoh, saying, I do remember my faults this day: Pharaoh was wroth with his servants, and put me in ward in the captain of the guard's house, both me and the chief baker: and we dreamed a dream in one night, I and he; we dreamed each man according to the interpretation of his dream. And there was therewith us a young man, an Hebrew, servant to the captain of the guard; and we told him, and he interpreted to us our dreams; to each man according to his dream he did interpret. And it came to pass, as he interpreted to us, so it was; me he restored unto mine office, and him he hanged.
+
+Then Pharaoh sent and called Joseph, and they brought him hastily out of the dungeon: and he shaved himself, and changed his raiment, and came in unto Pharaoh. And Pharaoh said unto Joseph, I have dreamed a dream, and there is none that can interpret it: and I have heard say of thee, that thou canst understand a dream to interpret it. And Joseph answered Pharaoh, saying. It is not in me: God shall give Pharaoh an answer of peace. And Pharaoh said unto Joseph, In my dream, behold, I stood upon the bank of the river: and, behold, there came up out of the river seven kine, fatfleshed and well favoured; and they fed in a meadow: and, behold, seven other kine came up after them, poor and very ill favoured and leanfleshed, such as I never saw in all the land of Egypt for badness: and the lean and the ill favoured kine did eat up the first seven fat kine: and when they had eaten them up, it could not be known that they had eaten them; but they were still ill favoured, as at the beginning. So I awoke. And I saw in my dream, and, behold, seven ears came up in one stalk, full and good: and, behold, seven ears, withered, thin, and blasted with the east wind, sprung up after them: and
+
+
+
+
+
+"A COMPANY OF ISHMEELITES . . WITH THEIR CAMELS."—Genesis xxxvii.
+
+
+
+
+
+the thin ears devoured the seven good ears: and I told this unto the magicians; but there was none that could declare it to me.
+
+And Joseph said unto Pharaoh, The dream of Pharaoh is one: God hath shewed Pharaoh what he is about to do. The seven good kine are seven years; and the seven good ears are seven years: the dream is one. And the seven thin and ill favoured kine that came up after them are seven years; and the seven empty ears blasted with the east wind shall be seven years of famine. This is the thing which I have spoken unto Pharaoh: What God is about to do he sheweth unto Pharaoh. Behold, there come seven years of great plenty throughout all the land of Egypt: and there shall arise after them seven years of famine; and all the plenty shall be forgotten in the land of Egypt; and the famine shall consume the land; and the plenty shall not be known in the land by reason of that famine following; for it shall be very grievous. And for that the dream was doubled unto Pharaoh twice; it is because the thing is established by God, and God will shortly bring it to pass. Now therefore let Pharaoh look out a man discreet and wise, and set him over the land of Egypt. Let Pharaoh do this, and let him appoint officers over the land, and take up the fifth part of the land of Egypt in the seven plenteous years. And let them gather all the food of those good years that come, and lay up corn under the hand of Pharaoh, and let them keep food in the cities. And that food shall be for store to the land against the seven years of famine, which shall be in the land of Egypt; that the land perish not through the famine.
+
+And the thing was good in the eyes of Pharaoh, and in the eyes of all his servants. And Pharaoh said unto his servants. Can we find such a one as this is, a man in whom the Spirit of God is? And Pharaoh said unto Joseph, Forasmuch as God hath shewed thee all this, there is none so discreet and wise as thou art: thou shalt be over my house, and according unto thy word shall all my people be ruled: only in the throne will I be greater than thou. And Pharaoh said unto Joseph, See, I have set thee over all the land of Egypt. And Pharaoh took off his ring from his hand, and put it upon Joseph's hand, and arrayed him in vestures of fine linen, and put a gold chain about his neck; and he made him to ride in the second chariot which he had; and they cried before him. Bow the knee: and he made him ruler over all the land of Egypt. And Pharaoh said unto Joseph, I am Pharaoh, and without thee shall no man lift up his hand or foot in all the land of Egypt. And Pharaoh called Joseph's name Zaphnath-paaneah; and he gave him to wife Asenath the daughter of Poti-pherah priest of On. And Joseph went out over all the land of Egypt.
+
+And Joseph was thirty years old when he stood before Pharaoh king of Egypt. And Joseph went out from the presence of Pharaoh, and went throughout all the land of Egypt. And in the seven plenteous years the earth brought forth by handfuls. And he gathered up all the food of the seven years, which were in the land of Egypt, and laid up the food in the cities: the food of the field, which was round about every city, laid he up in the same. And Joseph gathered corn as the sand of the sea, very much, until he left numbering; for it was without number. And unto Joseph were born two sons before the years of famine came, which Asenath the daughter of Potipherah priest of On bare unto him. And Joseph called the name of the firstborn Manasseh: For God, said he, hath made me forget all my toil, and all my father's house. And the name of the second called he Ephraim: For God hath caused me to be fruitful in the land of my affliction.
+
+And the seven years of plenteousness, that was in the land of Egypt, were ended. And the seven years of dearth began to come, according as Joseph had said: and the dearth was in all lands; but in all the land of Egypt there was bread. And when all the land of Egypt was famished, the people cried to Pharaoh for bread: and Pharaoh said unto all the Egyptians, Go unto Joseph; what he saith to you, do. And the famine was over all the face of the earth: and Joseph opened all the storehouses, and sold unto the Egyptians; and the famine waxed sore in the land of Egypt. And all countries came into Egypt to Joseph for to buy corn; because that the famine was so sore in all lands.
+
+Now when Jacob saw that there was corn in Egypt, Jacob said unto his sons. Why do ye look one upon another? And he said, Behold, I have heard that there is corn in Egypt: get you down thither, and buy for us from thence; that we may live, and not die.
+
+And Joseph's ten brethren went down to buy corn in Egypt. But Benjamin, Joseph's brother, Jacob sent not with his brethren; for he said, Lest peradventure mischief befall him. And the sons of Israel came to buy corn among those that came: for the famine was in the land of Canaan. And Joseph was the governor over the land, and he it was that sold to all the people of the land: and Joseph's brethren came, and bowed down themselves before him with their faces to the earth. And Joseph saw his brethren, and he knew them, but made himself strange unto them, and spake roughly unto them; and he said unto them, Whence come ye? And they said, From the land of Canaan to buy food. And Joseph knew his brethren, but they knew not him. And Joseph remembered the dreams which he dreamed of them, and said unto them, Ye are spies; to see the nakedness of the land ye are come. And they said unto him. Nay, my lord, but to buy food are thy servants come. We are all one man's sons; we are true men, thy servants are no spies. And he said unto them. Nay, but to see the nakedness of the land ye are come. And they said, Thy servants are twelve brethren, the sons of one man in the land of Canaan; and, behold, the youngest is this day with our father, and one is not. And Joseph said unto them, That is it that I spake unto you, saying, Ye are spies. Hereby ye shall be proved: by the life of Pharaoh ye shall not go forth hence, except your youngest brother come hither. Send one of you, and let him fetch your brother, and ye shall be kept in prison, that your words may be proved, whether there be any truth in you: or else by the life of Pharaoh surely ye are spies. And he put them all together into ward three days. And Joseph said unto them the third day. This do, and live; for I fear God: if ye be true men, let one of your brethren be bound in the house of your prison: go ye, carry corn for the famine of your houses: but bring your youngest brother unto me; so shall your words be verified, and ye shall not die. And they did so.
+
+And they said one to another, We are verily guilty concerning our brother, in that we saw the anguish of his soul, when he besought us, and we would not hear; therefore is this distress come upon us. And Reuben answered them, saying, Spake I not unto you, saying, Do not sin against the child; and ye would not hear? therefore, behold, also his blood is required. And they knew not that Joseph understood them; for he spake unto them by an interpreter. And he turned himself about from them, and wept; and returned to them again, and communed with them, and took from them Simeon, and bound him before their eyes.
+
+Then Joseph commanded to fill their sacks with corn, and to restore every man's money into his sack, and to give them provision for the way: and thus did he unto them. And they laded their asses with the corn, and departed thence. And as one of them opened his sack to give his ass provender in the inn, he espied his money; for, behold, it was in his sack's mouth. And he said unto his brethren. My money is restored; and, lo, it is even in my sack: and their heart failed them, and they were afraid, saying one to another, What is this that God hath done unto us?
+
+And they came unto Jacob their father unto the land of Canaan, and told him all that befell unto them; saying, The man, who is the lord of the land, spake roughly to us, and took us for spies of the country. And we said unto him, We are true men; we are no spies: we be twelve brethren, sons of our father; one is not, and the youngest is this day with our father in the land of Canaan. And the man, the lord of the country, said unto us. Hereby shall I know that ye are true men; leave one of your brethren here with me, and take food for the famine of your households, and be gone: and bring your youngest brother unto me: then shall I know that ye are no spies, but that ye are true men: so will I deliver you your brother, and ye shall traffick in the land.
+
+And it came to pass as they emptied their sacks, that, behold, every man's bundle of money was in his sack: and when both they and their father saw the bundles of money, they were afraid. And Jacob their father said unto them. Me have ye bereaved of my children: Joseph is not, and Simeon is not, and ye will take Benjamin away: all these things are against me. And Reuben spake unto his father, saying. Slay my two sons, if I bring him not to thee: deliver him into my hand, and I will bring him to thee again. And he said, My son shall not go down with you; for his brother is dead, and he is left alone: if mischief befall him by the way in the which ye go, then shall ye bring down my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave.
+
+And the famine was sore in the land. And it came to pass, when they had eaten up the corn which they had brought out of Egypt, their father said unto them. Go again, buy us a little food. And Judah spake unto him, saying. The man did solemnly protest unto us, saying, Ye shall not see my face, except your brother be with you. If thou wilt send our brother with us, we will go down and buy thee food: but if thou wilt not send him, we will not go down: for the man said unto us. Ye shall not see my face, except your brother be with you. And Israel said, Wherefore dealt ye so ill with me, as to tell the man whether ye had yet a brother? And they said, The man asked us straitly of our state, and of our kindred, saying. Is your father yet alive? have ye another brother? and we told him according to the tenor of these words: could we certainly know that he would say, Bring your brother down? And Judah said unto Israel his father. Send the lad with me, and we will arise and go; that we may live, and not die, both we, and thou, and also our little ones. I will be surety for him; of my hand shalt thou require him: if I bring him not unto thee, and set him before thee, then let me bear the blame for ever: for except we had lingered, surely now we had returned this second time. And their father Israel said unto them, If it must be so now, do this; take of the best fruits in the land in your vessels, and carry down the man a present, a little balm, and a little honey, spices, and myrrh, nuts, and almonds: and take double money in your hand; and the money that was brought again in the mouth of your sacks, carry it again in your hand; peradventure it was an oversight: take also your brother, and arise, go again unto the man: and God Almighty give you mercy before the man, that he may send away your other brother, and Benjamin. If I be bereaved of my children, I am bereaved.
+
+And the men took that present, and they took double money in their hand, and Benjamin; and rose up, and went down to Egypt, and stood before Joseph. And when Joseph saw Benjamin with them, he said to the ruler of his house. Bring these men home, and slay, and make ready; for these men shall dine with me at noon. And the man did as Joseph bade; and the man brought the men into Joseph's house. And the men were afraid, because they were brought into Joseph's house; and they said, Because of the money that was returned in our sacks at the first time are we brought in; that he may seek occasion against us, and fall upon us, and take us for bondmen, and our asses. And they came near to the steward of Joseph's house, and they communed with him at the door of the house, and said, O sir, we came indeed down at the first time to buy food: and it came to pass, when we came to the inn, that we opened our sacks, and, behold, every man's money was in the mouth of his sack, our money in full weight: and we have brought it again in our hand. And other money have we brought down in our hands to buy food: we cannot tell who put our money in our sacks. And he said, Peace be to you, fear not: your God, and the God of your father, hath given you treasure in your sacks: I had your money. And he brought Simeon out unto them. And the man brought the men into Joseph's house, and gave them water, and they washed their feet; and he gave their asses provender. And they made ready the present against Joseph came at noon: for they heard that they should eat bread there.
+
+And when Joseph came home, they brought him the present which was in their hand into the house, and bowed themselves to him to the earth. And he asked them of their welfare, and said. Is your father well, the old man of whom ye spake? is he yet alive? And they answered, Thy servant our father is in good health, he is yet alive. And they bowed down their heads, and made obeisance. And he lifted up his eyes, and saw his brother Benjamin, his mother's son, and said, Is this your younger brother, of whom ye spake unto me? And he said, God be gracious unto thee, my son. And Joseph made haste; for his bowels did yearn upon his brother: and he sought where to weep; and he entered into his chamber, and wept there. And he washed his face, and went out, and refrained himself, and said, Set on bread. And they set on for him by himself, and for them by themselves, and for the Egyptians, which did eat with him, by themselves: because the Egyptians might not eat bread with the Hebrews; for that is an abomination unto the Egyptians. And they sat before him, the firstborn according to his birthright, and the youngest according to his youth: and the men marvelled one at another. And he took and sent messes unto them from before him: but Benjamin's mess was five times so much as any of their's. And they drank, and were merry with him.
+
+And he commanded the steward of his house, saying, Fill the men's sacks with food, as much as they can carry, and put every man's money in his sack's mouth. And put my cup, the silver cup, in the sack's mouth of the youngest, and his corn money. And he did according to the word that Joseph had spoken. As soon as the morning was light, the men were sent away, they and their asses. And when they were gone out of the city, and not yet far off, Joseph said unto his steward, Up, follow after the men; and when thou dost overtake them, say unto them. Wherefore have ye rewarded evil for good? Is not this it in which my lord drinketh, and whereby indeed he divineth? ye have done evil in so doing.
+
+And he overtook them, and he spake unto them these same words. And they said unto him. Wherefore saith my lord these words? God forbid that thy servants should do according to this thing: behold, the money, which we found in our sacks' mouths, we brought again unto thee out of the land of Canaan: how then should we steal out of thy lord's house silver or gold? With whomsoever of thy servants it be found, both let him die, and we also will be my lord's bondmen. And he said, Now also let it be according unto your words: he with whom it is found shall be my servant; and ye shall be blameless. Then they speedily took down every man his sack to the ground, and opened every man his sack. And he searched, and began at the eldest, and left at the youngest: and the cup was found in Benjamin's sack. Then they rent their clothes, and laded every man his ass, and returned to the city.
+
+And Judah and his brethren came to Joseph's house; for he was yet there: and they fell before him on the ground. And Joseph said unto them. What deed is this that ye have done? wot ye not that such a man as I can certainly divine? And Judah said, What shall we say unto my lord? what shall we speak? or how shall we clear ourselves? God hath found out the iniquity of thy servants: behold, we are my lord's servants, both we, and he also with whom the cup is found. And he said, God forbid that I should do so: but the man in whose hand the cup is found, he shall be my servant; and as for you, get you up in peace unto your father.
+
+Then Judah came near unto him, and said, Oh my lord, let thy servant, I pray thee, speak a word in my lord's ears, and let not thine anger burn against thy servant: for thou art even as Pharaoh. My lord asked his servants, saying, Have ye a father, or a brother? And we said unto my lord. We have a father, an old man, and a child of his old age, a little one; and his brother is dead, and he alone is left of his mother, and his father loveth him. And thou saidst unto thy servants, Bring him down unto me, that I may set mine eyes upon him. And we said unto my lord, The lad cannot leave his father: for if he should leave his father, his father would die. And thou saidst unto thy servants, Except your youngest brother come down with you, ye shall see my face no more. And it came to pass when we came up unto thy servant my father, we told him the words of my lord. And our father said, Go again, and buy us a little food. And we said, We cannot go down: if our youngest brother be with us, then will we go down: for we may not see the man's face, except our youngest brother be with us. And thy servant my father said unto us, Ye know that my wife bare me two sons: and the one went out from me, and I said, Surely he is torn in pieces; and I saw him not since: and if ye take this also from me, and mischief befall him, ye shall bring down my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave. Now therefore when I come to thy servant my father, and the lad be not with us; seeing that his life is bound up in the lad's life; it shall come to pass, when he seeth that the lad is not with us, that he will die: and thy servants shall bring down the gray hairs of thy servant our father with sorrow to the grave. For thy servant became surety for the lad unto my father, saying, If I bring him not unto thee, then I shall bear the blame to my father for ever. Now therefore, I pray thee, let thy servant abide instead of the lad a bondman to my lord; and let the lad go up with his brethren. For how shall I go up to my father, and the lad be not with me? lest peradventure I see the evil that shall come on my father.
+
+Then Joseph could not refrain himself before all them that stood by him; and he cried, Cause every man to go out from me. And there stood no man with him, while Joseph made himself known unto his brethren. And he wept aloud: and the Egyptians and the house of Pharaoh heard. And Joseph said unto his brethren, I am Joseph; doth my father yet live? And his brethren could not answer him; for they were troubled at his presence. And Joseph said unto his brethren. Come near to me, I pray you. And they came near. And he said, I am Joseph your brother, whom ye sold into Egypt. Now therefore be not grieved, nor angry with yourselves, that ye sold me hither: for God did send me before you to preserve life. For these two years hath the famine been in the land: and yet there are five years, in the which there shall neither be earing nor harvest. And God sent me before you to preserve you a posterity in the earth, and to save your lives by a great deliverance. So now it was not you that sent me hither, but God: and he hath made me a father to Pharaoh, and lord of all his house, and a ruler throughout all the land of Egypt. Haste ye, and go up to my father, and say unto him, Thus saith thy son Joseph, God hath made me lord of all Egypt: come down unto me, tarry not: and thou shalt dwell in the land of Goshen, and thou shalt be near unto me, thou, and thy children, and thy children's children, and thy flocks, and thy herds, and all that thou hast: and there will I nourish thee; for yet there are five years of famine; lest thou, and thy household, and all that thou hast, come to poverty. And, behold, your eyes see, and the eyes of my brother Benjamin, that it is my mouth that speaketh unto you. And ye shall tell my father of all my glory in Egypt, and of all that ye have seen; and ye shall haste and bring down my father hither. And he fell upon his brother Benjamin's neck, and wept; and Benjamin wept upon his neck. Moreover he kissed all his brethren, and wept upon them: and after that his brethren talked with him.
+
+And the fame thereof was heard in Pharaoh's house, saying, Joseph's brethren are come: and it pleased Pharaoh well, and his servants. And Pharaoh said unto Joseph, Say unto thy brethren. This do ye; lade your beasts, and go, get you unto the land of Canaan; and take your father and your households, and come unto me: and I will give you the good of the land of Egypt, and ye shall eat the fat of the land.
+
+
+
+
+
+"IN THE LAND OF GOSHEN LET THEM DWELL."—Genesis xlvii.
+
+
+
+
+
+Now thou art commanded, this do ye; take you wagons out of the land of Egypt for your little ones, and for your wives, and bring your father, and come. Also regard not your stuff; for the good of all the land of Egypt is your's. And the children of Israel did so: and Joseph gave them wagons, according to the commandment of Pharaoh, and gave them provision for the way. To all of them he gave each man changes of raiment; but to Benjamin he gave three hundred pieces of silver, and five changes of raiment. And to his father he sent after this manner; ten asses laden with the good things of Egypt, and ten she asses laden with corn and bread and meat for his father by the way. So he sent his brethren away, and they departed: and he said unto them. See that ye fall not out by the way.
+
+And they went up out of Egypt, and came into the land of Canaan unto Jacob their father, and told him, saying, Joseph is yet alive, and he is governor over all the land of Egypt. And Jacob's heart fainted, for he believed them not. And they told him all the words of Joseph, which he had said unto them: and when he saw the wagons which Joseph had sent to carry him, the spirit of Jacob their father revived: and Israel said. It is enough; Joseph my son is yet alive: I will go and see him before I die.
+
+
+
+And Israel took his journey with all that he had, and came to Beer-sheba, and offered sacrifices unto the God of his father Isaac. And God spake unto Israel in the visions of the night, and said, Jacob, Jacob. And he said, Here am I. And he said, I am God, the God of thy father: fear not to go down into Egypt; for I will there make of thee a great nation: I will go down with thee into Egypt; and I will also surely bring thee up again: and Joseph shall put his hand upon thine eyes. And Jacob rose up from Beer-sheba: and the sons of Israel carried Jacob their father, and their little ones, and their wives, in the wagons which Pharaoh had sent to carry him. And they took their cattle, and their goods, which they had gotten in the land of Canaan, and came into Egypt, Jacob, and all his seed with him: his sons, and his sons' sons with him, his daughters, and his sons' daughters, and all his seed brought he with him into Egypt.
+
+And these are the names of the children of Israel, which came into Egypt, Jacob and his sons.
+
+Reuben, Jacob's firstborn. And the sons of Reuben; Hanoch, and Phallu, and Hezron, and Carmi.
+
+And the sons of Simeon; Jemuel, and Jamin, and Ohad, and Jachin, and Zohar, and Shaul the son of a Canaanitish woman.
+
+And the sons of Levi; Gershon, Kohath, and Merari.
+
+
+
+And the sons of Judah; Er, and Onan, and Shelah, and Pharez, and Zarah: but Er and Onan died in the land of Canaan. And the sons of Pharez were Hezron and Hamul.
+
+And the sons of Issachar; Tola, and Phuvah, and Job, and Shimron.
+
+And the sons of Zebulun; Sered, and Elon, and Jahleel. These be the sons of Leah, which she bare unto Jacob in Padan-aram, with his daughter Dinah: all the souls of his sons and his daughters were thirty and three.
+
+And the sons of Gad; Ziphion, and Haggi, Shuni, and Ezbon, Eri, and Arodi, and Areli.
+
+And the sons of Asher; Jimnah, and Ishuah, and Isui, and Beriah, and Serah their sister: and the sons of Beriah; Heber, and Malchiel. These are the sons of Zilpah, whom Laban gave to Leah his daughter, and these she bare unto Jacob, even sixteen souls. The sons of Rachel Jacob's wife; Joseph, and Benjamin.
+
+And unto Joseph in the land of Egypt were born Manasseh and Ephraim, which Asenath the daughter of Poti-pherah priest of On bare unto him.
+
+And the sons of Benjamin were Belah,and Becher, and Ashbel, Gera, and Naaman, Ehi, and Rosh, Muppim, and Huppim, and Ard. These are the sons of Rachel, which were born to Jacob: all the souls were fourteen.
+
+And the sons of Dan; Hushim.
+
+And the sons of Naphtali; Jahzeel, and Guni, and Jezer, and Shillem. These are the sons of Bilhah, which Laban gave unto Rachel his daughter, and she bare these unto Jacob: all the souls were seven.
+
+All the souls that came with Jacob into Egypt, which came out of his loins, besides Jacob's sons' wives, all the souls were threescore and six; and the sons of Joseph, which were born him in Egypt, were two souls: all the souls of the house of Jacob, which came into Egypt, were threescore and ten.
+
+And he sent Judah before him unto Joseph, to direct his face unto Goshen; and they came into the land of Goshen. And Joseph made ready his chariot, and went up to meet Israel his father, to Goshen, and presented himself unto him; and he fell on his neck, and wept on his neck a good while. And Israel said unto Joseph, Now let me die, since I have seen thy face, because thou art yet alive. And Joseph said unto his brethren, and unto his father's house, I will go up, and shew Pharaoh, and say unto him. My brethren, and my father's house, which were in the land of Canaan, are come unto me; and the men are shepherds, for their trade hath been to feed cattle; and they have brought their flocks, and their herds, and all that they have. And it shall come to pass, when Pharaoh shall call you, and shall say, What is your occupation? that ye shall say, Thy servants' trade hath been about cattle from our youth even until now, both we, and also our fathers: that ye may dwell in the land of Goshen; for every shepherd is an abomination unto the Egyptians.
+
+Then Joseph came and told Pharaoh, and said, My father and my brethren, and their flocks, and their herds, and all that they have, are come out of the land of Canaan; and, behold, they are in the land of Goshen. And he took some of his brethren, even five men, and presented them unto Pharaoh. And Pharaoh said unto his brethren. What is your occupation? And they said unto Pharaoh, Thy servants are shepherds, both we, and also our fathers. They said moreover unto Pharaoh, For to sojourn in the land are we come; for thy servants have no pasture for their flocks; for the famine is sore in the land of Canaan: now therefore, we pray thee, let thy servants dwell in the land of Goshen. And Pharaoh spake unto Joseph, saying, Thy father and thy brethren are come unto thee: the land of Egypt is before thee; in the best of the land make thy father and brethren to dwell; in the land of Goshen let them dwell: and if thou knowest any men of activity among them, then make them rulers over my cattle. And Joseph brought in Jacob his father, and set him before Pharaoh: and Jacob blessed Pharaoh. And Pharaoh said unto Jacob, How old art thou? And Jacob said unto Pharaoh, The days of the years of my pilgrimage are an hundred and thirty years: few and evil have the days of the years of my life been, and have not attained unto the days of the years of the life of my fathers in the days of their pilgrimage. And Jacob blessed Pharaoh, and went out from before Pharaoh.
+
+And Joseph placed his father and his brethren, and gave them a possession in the land of Egypt, in the best of the land, in the land of Rameses, as Pharaoh had commanded. And Joseph nourished his father, and his brethren, and all his father's household, with bread, according to their families.
+
+And there was no bread in all the land; for the famine was very sore, so that the land of Egypt and all the land of Canaan fainted by reason of the famine. And Joseph gathered up all the money that was found in the land of Egypt, and in the land of Canaan, for the corn which they bought: and Joseph brought the money into Pharaoh's house. And when money failed in the land of Egypt, and in the land of Canaan, all the Egyptians came unto Joseph, and said, Give us bread: for why should we die in thy presence? for the money faileth. And Joseph said, Give your cattle; and I will give you for your cattle, if money fail. And they brought their cattle unto Joseph: and Joseph gave them bread in exchange for horses, and for the flocks, and for the cattle of the herds, and for the asses: and he fed them with bread for all their cattle for that year. When that year was ended, they came unto him the second year, and said unto him. We will not hide it from my lord, how that our money is spent; my lord also hath our herds of cattle; there is not ought left in the sight of my lord, but our bodies, and our lands: wherefore shall we die before thine eyes, both we and our land? buy us and our land for bread, and we and our land will be servants unto Pharaoh: and give us seed, that we may live, and not die, that the land be not desolate. And Joseph bought all the land of Egypt for Pharaoh; for the Egyptians sold every man his field, because the famine prevailed over them: so the land became Pharaoh's. And as for the people, he removed them to cities from one end of the borders of Egypt even to the other end thereof. Only the land of the priests bought he not; for the priests had a portion assigned them of Pharaoh, and did eat their portion which Pharaoh gave them: wherefore they sold not their lands. Then Joseph said unto the people, Behold, I have bought you this day and your land for Pharaoh: lo, here is seed for you, and ye shall sow the land. And it shall come to pass in the increase, that ye shall give the fifth part unto Pharaoh, and four parts shall be your own, for seed of the field, and for your food, and for them of your households, and for food for your little ones. And they said, Thou hast saved our lives: let us find grace in the sight of my lord, and we will be Pharaoh's servants. And Joseph made it a law over the land of Egypt unto this day, that Pharaoh should have the fifth part; except the land of the priests only, which became not Pharaoh's.
+
+And Israel dwelt in the land of Egypt, in the country of Goshen; and they had possessions therein, and grew, and multiplied exceedingly.
+
+And Jacob lived in the land of Egypt seventeen years: so the whole age of Jacob was an hundred forty and seven years. And the time drew nigh that Israel must die: and he called his son Joseph, and said unto him. If now I have found grace in thy sight, put, I pray thee, thy hand under my thigh, and deal kindly and truly with me; bury me not, I pray thee, in Egypt: but I will lie with my fathers, and thou shalt carry me out of Egypt, and bury me in their buryingplace. And he said, I will do as thou hast said. And he said, Swear unto me. And he sware unto him. And Israel bowed himself upon the bed's head.
+
+And it came to pass after these things, that one told Joseph, Behold, thy father is sick: and he took with him his two sons, Manasseh and Ephraim. And one told Jacob, and said, Behold, thy son Joseph cometh unto thee: and Israel strengthened himself, and sat upon the bed. And Jacob said unto Joseph, God Almighty appeared unto me at Luz in the land of Canaan, and blessed me, and said unto me. Behold, I will make thee fruitful, and multiply thee, and I will make of thee a multitude of people; and will give this land to thy seed after thee for an everlasting possession. And now thy two sons, Ephraim and Manasseh, which were born unto thee in the land of Egypt before I came unto thee into Egypt, are mine; as Reuben and Simeon, they shall be mine. And thy issue, which thou begettest after them, shall be thine, and shall be called after the name of their brethren in their inheritance. And as for me, when I came from Padan, Rachel died by me in the land of Canaan in the way, when yet there was but a little way to come unto Ephrath: and I buried her there in the way of Ephrath; the same is Beth-lehem.
+
+And Israel beheld Joseph's sons, and said, Who are these? And Joseph said unto his father. They are my sons, whom God hath given me in this place. And he said, Bring them, I pray thee, unto me, and I will bless them. Now the eyes of Israel were dim for age, so that he could not see. And he brought them near unto him; and he kissed them, and embraced them. And Israel said unto Joseph, I had not thought to see thy face: and, lo, God hath shewed me also thy seed. And Joseph brought them out from between his knees, and he bowed himself with his face to the earth. And Joseph took them both, Ephraim in his right hand toward Israel's left hand, and Manasseh in his left hand toward Israel's right hand, and brought them near unto him. And Israel stretched out his right hand, and laid it upon Ephraim's head, who was the younger, and his left hand upon Manasseh's head, guiding his hands wittingly; for Manasseh was the firstborn.
+
+And he blessed Joseph, and said, God, before whom my fathers Abraham and Isaac did walk, the God which fed me all my life long unto this day, the Angel which redeemed me from all evil, bless the lads; and let my name be named on them, and the name of my fathers Abraham and Isaac; and let them grow into a multitude in the midst of the earth. And when Joseph saw that his father laid his right hand upon the head of Ephraim, it displeased him: and he held up his father's hand, to remove it from Ephraim's head unto Manasseh's head. And Joseph said unto his father, Not so, my father: for this is the firstborn; put thy right hand upon his head. And his father refused, and said, I know it, my son, I know it: he also shall become a people, and he also shall be great: but truly his younger brother shall be greater than he, and his seed shall become a multitude of nations. And he blessed them that day, saying. In thee shall Israel bless, saying, God make thee as Ephraim and as Manasseh: and he set Ephraim before Manasseh. And Israel said unto Joseph, Behold, I die: but God shall be with you, and bring you again unto the land of your fathers. Moreover I have given to thee one portion above thy brethren, which I took out of the hand of the Amorite with my sword and with my bow.
+
+And Jacob called unto his sons, and said. Gather yourselves together, that I may tell you that which shall befall you in the last days.
+
+Gather yourselves together, and hear, ye sons
+
+of Jacob;
+
+And hearken unto Israel your father.
+
+Reuben, thou art my firstborn, my might, and the
+
+beginning of my strength,
+
+The excellency of dignity, and the excellency of
+
+power:
+
+
+
+Unstable as water, thou shalt not excel;
+
+Because thou wentest up to thy father's bed;
+
+Then defiledst thou it: he went up to my couch.
+
+
+
+
+
+Simeon and Levi are brethren;
+
+Instruments of cruelty are in their habitations.
+
+my soul, come not thou into their secret;
+
+Unto their assembly, mine honour, be not thou
+
+united:
+
+For in their anger they slew a man,
+
+And in their selfwill they digged down a wall.
+
+Cursed be their anger, for it was fierce;
+
+And their wrath, for it was cruel:
+
+I will divide them in Jacob,
+
+And scatter them in Israel.
+
+
+
+
+
+Judah, thou art he whom thy brethren shall praise:
+
+Thy hand shall be in the neck of thine enemies;
+
+Thy father's children shall bow down before thee.
+
+Judah is a lion's whelp:
+
+From the prey, my son, thou art gone up:
+
+He stooped down, he couched as a lion.
+
+And as an old lion; who shall rouse him up?
+
+The sceptre shall not depart from Judah,
+
+Nor a lawgiver from between his feet.
+
+Until Shiloh come;
+
+And unto him shall the gathering of the people be.
+
+Binding his foal unto the vine.
+
+And his ass's colt unto the choice vine;
+
+
+
+He washed his garments in wine,
+
+And his clothes in the blood of grapes:
+
+His eyes shall be red with wine,
+
+And his teeth white with milk.
+
+
+
+Zebulun shall dwell at the haven of the sea;
+
+And he shall be for an haven of ships;
+
+And his border shall be unto Zidon.
+
+
+
+Issachar is a strong ass
+
+Couching down between two burdens;
+
+And he saw that rest was good,
+
+And the land that it was pleasant;
+
+And bowed his shoulder to bear,
+
+And became a servant unto tribute.
+
+
+
+Dan shall judge his people,
+
+As one of the tribes of Israel.
+
+Dan shall be a serpent by the way.
+
+An adder in the path,
+
+That biteth the horse heels,
+
+So that his rider shall fall backward.
+
+I have waited for thy salvation, O Lord.
+
+
+
+Gad, a troop shall overcome him:
+
+But he shall overcome at the last.
+
+
+
+Out of Asher his bread shall be fat.
+
+And he shall yield royal dainties.
+
+
+
+Naphtali is a hind let loose:
+
+He giveth goodly words.
+
+
+
+
+
+Joseph is a fruitful bough,
+
+Even a fruitful bough by a well;
+
+Whose branches run over the wall:
+
+The archers have sorely grieved him,
+
+And shot at him, and hated him:
+
+But his bow abode in strength.
+
+And the arms of his hands were made strong
+
+By the hands of the mighty God of Jacob;
+
+(From thence is the shepherd, the stone of Israel:)
+
+Even by the God of thy father, who shall help
+
+thee;
+
+And by the Almighty, who shall bless thee
+
+With blessings of heaven above,
+
+Blessings of the deep that lieth under,
+
+Blessings of the breasts, and of the womb:
+
+The blessings of thy father
+
+Have prevailed above the blessings of my progenitors
+
+Unto the utmost bound of the everlasting hills:
+
+They shall be on the head of Joseph,
+
+And on the crown of the head of him that was
+
+separate from his brethren.
+
+
+
+Benjamin shall ravin as a wolf:
+
+In the morning he shall devour the prey,
+
+And at night he shall divide the spoil.
+
+
+
+
+
+All these are the twelve tribes of Israel: and this is it that their father spake unto them, and blessed them; every one according to his blessing he blessed them. And he charged them, and said unto them, I am to be gathered unto my people: bury me with my fathers in the cave that is in the field of Ephron the Hittite, in the cave that is in the field of Machpelah, which is before Mamre, in the land of Canaan, which Abraham bought with the field of Ephron the Hittite for a possession of a buryingplace. There they buried Abraham and Sarah his wife; there they buried Isaac and Rebekah his wife; and there I buried Leah. The purchase of the field and of the cave that is therein was from the children of Heth. And when Jacob had made an end of commanding his sons, he gathered up his feet into the bed, and yielded up the ghost, and was gathered unto his people.
+
+And Joseph fell upon his father's face, and wept upon him, and kissed him. And Joseph commanded his servants the physicians to embalm his father: and the physicians embalmed Israel. And forty days were fulfilled for him; for so are fulfilled the days of those which are embalmed: and the Egyptians mourned for him threescore and ten days. And when the days of his mourning were past, Joseph spake unto the house of Pharaoh, saying, If now I have found grace in your eyes, speak, I pray you, in the ears of Pharaoh, saying, My father made me swear, saying, Lo, I die: in my grave which I have digged for me in the land of Canaan, there shalt thou bury me. Now therefore let me go up, I pray thee, and bury my father, and I will come again. And Pharaoh said, Go up, and bury thy father, according as he made thee swear.
+
+And Joseph went up to bury his father: and with him went up all the servants of Pharaoh, the elders of his house, and all the elders of the land of Egypt, and all the house of Joseph, and his brethren, and his father's house: only their little ones, and their flocks, and their herds, they left in the land of Goshen. And there went up with him both chariots and horsemen: and it was a very great company. And they came to the threshingfloor of Atad, which is beyond Jordan, and there they mourned with a great and very sore lamentation: and he made a mourning for his father seven days. And when the inhabitants of the land, the Canaanites, saw the mourning in the floor of Atad, they said, This is a grievous mourning to the Egyptians: wherefore the name of it was called Abel-mizraim, which is beyond Jordan. And his sons did unto him according as he commanded them: for his sons carried him into the land of Canaan, and buried him in the cave of the field of Machpelah, which Abraham bought with the field for a possession of a
+
+
+
+
+
+"THE CAVE OF THE FIELD OF MACHPELAH WHICH ABRAHAM BOUGHT."—Genesis l.
+
+
+
+
+
+buryingplace of Ephron the Hittite, before Mamre.
+
+And Joseph returned into Egypt, he, and his brethren, and all that went up with him to bury his father, after he had buried his father.
+
+And when Joseph's brethren saw that their father was dead, they said, Joseph will peradventure hate us, and will certainly requite us all the evil which we did unto him. And they sent a messenger unto Joseph, saying, Thy father did command before he died, saying. So shall ye say unto Joseph, Forgive, I pray thee now, the trespass of thy brethren, and their sin; for they did unto thee evil: and now, we pray thee, forgive the trespass of the servants of the God of thy father. And Joseph wept when they spake unto him. And his brethren also went and fell down before his face; and they said. Behold, we be thy servants. And Joseph said unto them. Fear not: for am I in the place of God? But as for you, ye thought evil against me; but God meant it unto good, to bring to pass, as it is this day, to save much people alive. Now therefore fear ye not: I will nourish you, and your little ones. And he comforted them, and spake kindly unto them.
+
+And Joseph dwelt in Egypt, he, and his father's house: and Joseph lived an hundred and ten years. And Joseph saw Ephraim's children of the third generation: the children also of Machir the son of Manasseh were brought up upon Joseph's knees. And Joseph said unto his brethren, I die: and God will surely visit you, and bring you out of this land unto the land which he sware to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob. And Joseph took an oath of the children of Israel, saying, God will surely visit you, and ye shall carry up my bones from hence. So Joseph died, being an hundred and ten years old: and they embalmed him, and he was put in a coffin in Egypt.
+
+
+
+
+
+About this digital edition
+
+
+This e-book comes from the online library Wikisource. This multilingual digital library, built by volunteers, is committed to developing a free accessible collection of publications of every kind: novels, poems, magazines, letters...
+
+We distribute our books for free, starting from works not copyrighted or published under a free license. You are free to use our e-books for any purpose (including commercial exploitation), under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 Unported license or, at your choice, those of the GNU FDL.
+
+Wikisource is constantly looking for new members. During the transcription and proofreading of this book, it's possible that we made some errors. You can report them at this page.
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diff --git a/year4/semester2/CT414/assignments/assignment2/data/marx_capital.txt b/year4/semester2/CT414/assignments/assignment2/data/marx_capital.txt
new file mode 100644
index 00000000..e0c3c8d4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/year4/semester2/CT414/assignments/assignment2/data/marx_capital.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,41376 @@
+Capital, Vol.3, Table of Contents 
+
+Karl Marx's 
+
+CAPITAL 
+Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Written: Karl Marx, 1863-1883, edited by Friedrick Engels and completed by him eleven years after 
+
+Marx's death. 
+
+Source: Institute of Marxism-Leninism, USSR, 1959 
+
+Publisher: International Publishers, NY, [n.d.] 
+
+First Published: 1894 
+
+Translated: 
+
+On-Line Version: Marx.org 1996, Marxists.org 1999 
+
+Transcribed: Transcribed for the Internet in 1996 by Hinrich Kuhls and Zodiac, and by Tim Delaney 
+
+and M. Griffin in 1999. 
+
+HTML Markup: Zodiac 1996, Tim Delaney and M. Griffin in 1999 
+
+CONTENTS 
+
+Preface 
+
+parti 
+
+THE CONVERSION OF SURPLUS-VALUE INTO PROFIT 
+
+AND OF THE RATE OF SURPLUS-VALUE INTO THE RATE OF PROFIT 
+
+Ch. 1 : Cost-Price and Profit 
+
+Ch. 2: The Rate of Profit 
+
+Ch. 3: The Relation of the Rate of Profit to the Rate of Surplus-Value 
+
+Ch. 4: The Effect of the Turnover on the Rate of Profit 
+
+Ch. 5: Economy in the Employment of Constant Capital 
+
+Ch. 6: The Effect of Price Fluctuations 
+
+Ch. 7: Supplementary Remarks 
+
+part ii 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/index.htm (1 of 3) [23/08/2000 16:00:19] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Table of Contents 
+
+CONVERSION OF PROFIT INTO AVERAGE PROFIT 
+
+Ch. 8: Different Compositions of Capitals in Different Branches of Production and Resulting Differences 
+
+in Rates of Profit 
+
+Ch. 9: Formation of a General Rate of Profit (Average Rate of Profit) and Transformation of the Values 
+
+of Commodities into Prices of Production 
+
+Ch. 10: Equalisation of the General Rate of Profit Through Competition. Market-Prices and 
+
+Market- Values. Surplus-Profit. 
+
+Ch. 1 1 : Effects of General Wage Fluctuations on Prices of Production 
+
+Ch. 12: Supplementary Remarks 
+
+part iii 
+
+THE LAW OF THE TENDENCY OF THE RATE OF PROFIT TO FALL 
+
+Ch. 13: The Law as Such 
+
+Ch. 14: Counteracting Influences 
+
+Ch. 15: Exposition of the Internal Contradictions of the Law 
+
+part iv 
+
+CONVERSION OF COMMODITY-CAPITAL AND MONEY-CAPITAL INTO COMMERCIAL 
+
+CAPITAL AND MONEY-DEALING CAPITAL (MERCHANT'S CAPITAL) 
+
+Ch. 16: Commercial Capital 
+
+Ch. 17: Commercial Profit 
+
+Ch. 18: The Turnover of Merchant's Capital 
+
+Ch. 19: Money-Dealing Capital 
+
+Ch. 20: Historical Facts about Merchant's Capital 
+
+part v 
+
+DIVISION OF PROFIT INTO INTEREST AND PROFIT OF ENTERPRISE. 
+
+INTEREST-BEARING CAPITAL. 
+
+Ch. 21: Interest-Bearing Capital 
+
+Ch. 22: Division of Profit. Rate of Interest. Natural Rate of Interest. 
+
+Ch. 23: Interest and Profit of Enterprise 
+
+Ch. 24: Externalisation of the Relations of Capital in the Form of Interest-Bearing Capital 
+
+Ch. 25: Credit and Fictitious Capital 
+
+Ch. 26: Accumulation of Money-Capital. Its Influence on the Interest Rate. 
+
+Ch. 27: The Role of Credit in Capitalist Production 
+
+Ch. 28: Medium of Circulation and Capital; Views of Tooke and Fullarton 
+
+Ch. 29: Component Parts of Bank Capital 
+
+Ch. 30: Money-Capital and Real Capital. I 
+
+Ch. 31: Money-Capital and Real Capital. II 
+
+Ch. 32: Money-Capital and Real Capital. Ill 
+
+Ch. 33: The Medium of Circulation in the Credit System 
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/index.htm (2 of 3) [23/08/2000 16:00:19] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Table of Contents 
+
+Ch. 34: The Currency Principle and the English Bank Legislation of 1844 
+Ch. 35: Precious Metal and Rate of Exchange 
+Ch. 36: Pre-Capitalist Relationships 
+
+part vi 
+
+TRANSFORMATION OF SURPLUS -PROFIT INTO GROUND-RENT 
+
+Ch. 37: Introduction 
+
+Ch. 38: Differential Rent: General Remarks 
+
+Ch. 39: First Form of Differential Rent (Differential Rent I) 
+
+Ch. 40: Second Form of Differential Rent (Differential Rent II) 
+
+Ch. 41: Differential Rent II — First Case: Constant Price of Production 
+
+Ch. 42: Differential Rent II — Second Case: Falling Price of Production 
+
+Ch. 43: Differential Rent II — Third Case: Rising Price of Production 
+
+Ch. 44: Differential Rent Also on the Worst Cultivated Soil 
+
+Ch. 45: Absolute Ground-Rent 
+
+Ch. 46: Building Site Rent. Rent in Mining. Price of Land . 
+
+Ch. 47: Genesis of Capitalist Ground-Rent 
+
+part vii 
+
+REVENUES AND THEIR SOURCES 
+
+Ch. 48: The Trinity Formula 
+
+Ch. 49: Concerning the Analysis of the Process of Production 
+
+Ch. 50: Illusions Created by Competition 
+
+Ch. 51: Distribution Relations and Production Relations 
+
+Ch. 52: Classes 
+
+F. ENGELS, SUPPLEMENT TO CAPITAL, VOLUME THREE 
+
+A): Introduction 
+
+B): The Law of Value and Rate of Profit 
+
+C): The Stock Exchange 
+
+
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/index.htm (3 of 3) [23/08/2000 16:00:19] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Preface 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Preface 
+
+
+
+At last I have the privilege of making public this third book of Marx's main work, the conclusion of the 
+theoretical part. When I published the second volume, in 1885, 1 thought that except for a few, certainly 
+very important, sections the third volume would probably offer only technical difficulties. This was 
+indeed the case. But I had no idea at the time that these sections, the most important parts of the entire 
+work, would give me as much trouble as they did, just as I did not anticipate the other obstacles, which 
+were to retard completion of the work to such an extent. 
+
+Next and most important of all, it was my eye weakness which for years restricted my writing time to a 
+minimum, and which, even now, permits me to write by artificial light only in exceptional cases. 
+Furthermore, there were other pressing labours which could not be turned down, such as new editions 
+and translations of Marx's and my own earlier works, hence reviews, prefaces, and supplements, often 
+impossible without fresh study, etc. Above all, there was the English edition of the first volume of this 
+work, for whose text I am ultimately responsible and which consequently consumed much of my time. 
+Whoever has in any way followed the colossal growth of international socialist literature during the last 
+ten years, particularly the great number of translations of Marx's and my own earlier works, will agree 
+with me that I have been lucky that the number of languages in which I could be of help to the 
+translators, and therefore could not refuse in all conscience to review their work, is very limited. But the 
+growth of literature was merely indicative of a corresponding growth of the international working-class 
+movement itself. And this imposed new obligations upon me. From the first days of our public activity it 
+was Marx and I who shouldered the main burden of the work as go-betweens for the national movements 
+of Socialists and workers in the various countries. This work expanded in proportion to the expansion of 
+the movement as a whole. Up to the time of his death, Marx had borne the brunt of the burden in this as 
+well. But after his death the ever-increasing bulk of work had to be done by myself alone. Since then it 
+has become the rule for the various national workers' parties to establish direct contacts, and this is 
+fortunately ever more the case. Yet requests for my assistance are still far more frequent than I would 
+wish in view of my theoretical work. But if a man has been active in the movement for more than fifty 
+years, as I have been, he regards the work connected with it as a bounden duty that brooks no delay. In 
+our eventful time, just as in the 16th century, pure theorists on social affairs are found only on the side of 
+reaction and for this reason they are not even theorists in the full sense of the word, but simply apologists 
+of reaction. 
+
+In view of the fact that I live in London my party contacts are limited to correspondence in winter, while 
+in summer they are largely personal. This fact, and the necessity of following the movement in a steadily 
+growing number of countries and a still more rapidly growing number of press organs, have compelled 
+me to reserve matters which permit no interruption for completion during the winter months, and 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Preface 
+
+primarily the first three months of the year. When a man is past seventy his Meynert's association fibres 
+of the brain function with annoying prudence. He no longer surmounts interruptions in difficult 
+theoretical problems as easily and quickly as before. It came about therefore that the work of one winter, 
+if it was not completed, had to be largely begun anew the following winter. This was the case with the 
+most difficult fifth part. 
+
+As the reader will observe from the following, the work of editing the third volume was essentially 
+different from that of editing the second. In the case of the third volume there was nothing to go by 
+outside a first extremely incomplete draft. The beginnings of the various parts were, as a rule, pretty 
+carefully done and even stylistically polished. But the farther one went, the more sketchy and incomplete 
+was the manuscript, the more excursions it contained into arising side-issues whose proper place in the 
+argument was left for later decision, and the longer and more complex the sentences, in' which thoughts 
+were recorded in statu nascendi. In some places handwriting and presentation betrayed all too clearly the 
+outbreak and gradual progress of the attacks of ill health, caused by overwork, which at the outset 
+rendered the author's work increasingly difficult and finally compelled him periodically to stop work 
+altogether. And no wonder. Between 1863 and 1867, Marx not only completed the first draft of the two 
+last volumes of Capital and prepared the first volume for the printer, but also performed the enormous 
+work connected with the founding and expansion of the International Workingmen's Association. As a 
+result, already in 1864 and 1865 ominous signs of ill health appeared which prevented Marx from 
+personally putting the finishing touches to the second and third volumes. 
+
+I began my work by dictating into readable copy the entire manuscript, which was often hard to decipher 
+even for me. This alone required considerable time. It was only then that I could start on the actual 
+editing. I limited this to the essential. I tried my best to preserve the character of the first draft wherever it 
+was sufficiently clear. I did not even eliminate repetitions, wherever they, as was Marx's custom, viewed 
+the subject from another standpoint or at least expressed the same thought in different words. Wherever 
+my alterations or additions exceeded the bounds of editing, or where I had to apply Marx's factual 
+material to independent conclusions of my own, if even as faithful as possible to the spirit of Marx, I 
+have enclosed the entire passage in brackets and affixed my initials. Some of my footnotes are not 
+enclosed in brackets; but wherever I have initialled them I am responsible for the entire note. 
+
+As is only to be expected in a first draft, there are numerous allusions in the manuscript to points which 
+were to have been expanded upon later, without these promises always having been kept. I have left 
+them, because they reveal the author' s intentions relative to future elaboration. 
+
+Now as to details. 
+
+As regards the first part, the main manuscript was serviceable only with substantial limitations. The 
+entire mathematical calculation of the relation between the rate of surplus-value and the rate of profit 
+(which makes up our Chapter 111) is introduced in the very beginning, while the subject treated in our 
+Chapter I is considered later and as the occasion arises. Two attempts at revising, each of them eight 
+pages in folio, were useful here. But even these did not possess the desired continuity throughout. They 
+furnished the substance for what is now Chapter I. Chapter II is taken from the main manuscript. There 
+was a series of uncompleted mathematical calculations for Chapter III, as well as a whole, almost 
+complete, note-book dating from the seventies, which presents the relation of the rate of surplus-value to 
+the rate of profit in the form of equations. My friend Samuel Moore, who has also translated the greater 
+portion of the first volume into English, undertook to edit this note-book for me, a work for which he was 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Preface 
+
+far better equipped, being an old Cambridge mathematician. It was from his summary, with occasional 
+use of the main manuscript, that I then compiled Chapter III. Nothing but the title was available for 
+Chapter IV. But since its subject-matter, the influence of turnover on the rate of profit, is of vital 
+importance, I have written it myself, for which reason the whole chapter has been placed in brackets. It 
+developed in the course of this work that the formula for the rate of profit given in Chapter III required 
+modification to be generally valid. Beginning with Chapter V, the main manuscript is the sole source for 
+the remainder of the part, although many transpositions and supplements were also essential. 
+
+As for the following three parts, aside from stylistic editing I was able to follow the original manuscript 
+almost throughout. A few passages dealing mostly with the influence of turnover had to be brought into 
+agreement with Chapter IV, which I had inserted, and are likewise placed in brackets and followed by 
+my initials. 
+
+The greatest difficulty was presented by Part V which dealt with the most complicated subject in the 
+entire volume. And it was just at this point that Marx was overtaken by one of the above-mentioned 
+serious attacks of illness. Here, then, was no finished draft, not even a scheme whose outlines might have 
+been filled out, but only the beginning of an elaboration — often just a disorderly mass of notes, 
+comments and extracts. I tried at first to complete this part, as I had done to a certain extent with the first 
+one, by filling in the gaps and expanding upon passages that were only indicated, so that it would at least 
+approximately contain everything the author had intended. I tried this no less than three times, but failed 
+in every attempt, and the time lost in this is one of the chief causes that held up this volume. At last I 
+realised that I was on the wrong track. I should have had to go through the entire voluminous literature in 
+this field, and would in the end have produced something that would nevertheless not have been a book 
+by Marx. I had no other choice but to more or less cut the Gordian knot by confining myself to as orderly 
+an arrangement of available matter as possible, and to making only the most indispensable additions. 
+And so it was that I succeeded in completing the principal labours for this part in the spring of 1893. 
+
+As for the various chapters, Chapters XXI to XXIV were, in the main, complete. Chapters XXV and 
+
+XXVI required a sifting of the references and an interpolation of material found elsewhere. Chapters 
+
+XXVII and XXIX could be taken almost completely from the original manuscript, but Chapter XXVIII 
+had to be re-arranged in places. The real difficulty, however, began with Chapter XXX. From here on it 
+was not only a matter of properly arranging the references, but of putting the train of thought into proper 
+order, interrupted as it was at every point by intervening clauses and deviations, etc., and resumed 
+elsewhere, often just casually. Thus, Chapter XXX was put together by means of transpositions and 
+excisions which were utilised, however, in other places. Chapter XXXI, again, possessed greater 
+continuity. But then follows a long section in the manuscript, entitled "The Confusion", containing 
+nothing but extracts from parliamentary reports on the crises of 1848 and 1857, in which are compiled 
+statements of twenty-three businessmen and economists, largely on money and capital, gold drain, 
+over-speculation, etc., and supplied here and there with short facetious comments. Practically all the then 
+current views concerning the relation of money to capital are represented therein, either in the answers or 
+in the questions, and it was the "confusion revealed in identifying money and capital in the 
+money-market that Marx meant to treat with criticism and sarcasm. After many attempts I convinced 
+myself that this chapter could not be put into shape. Its material, particularly that supplied with Marx's 
+comments, was used wherever I found an opportune place for it. 
+
+Next, in tolerable order, comes what I placed in Chapter XXXII. But this is immediately followed by a 
+new batch of extracts from parliamentary reports on every conceivable thing pertinent to this part, 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Preface 
+
+intermingled with the author's comments. Toward the end these extracts and comments are focussed 
+more and more on the movement of monetary metals and on exchange rates, and close with all kinds of 
+miscellaneous remarks. On the other hand, the "Precapitalist" chapter (Chap. XXXVI) was quite 
+complete. 
+
+Of all this material beginning with the "Confusion", save that which had been previously inserted, I made 
+up Chapters XXXIII to XXXV. This could not, of course, be done without considerable interpolations on 
+my part for the sake of continuity. Unless they are merely formal in nature, the interpolations are 
+expressly indicated as belonging to me. In this way I have finally succeeded in working into the text all 
+the author's relevant statements. Nothing has been left out but a small portion of the extracts, which 
+either repeated what had already been said, or touched on points which the manuscript did not treat any 
+further. 
+
+The part on ground-rent was much more fully treated, although; by no means properly arranged, if only 
+for the fact that Marx found it necessary to recapitulate the plan of the entire part in Chapter XLIII (the 
+last portion of the part on rent in the manuscript). This was all the more desirable, since the manuscript 
+opens with Chapter XXXVII, followed by Chapters XLV to XL VII, and only thereafter Chapters 
+XXXVIII to XLIV. The titles for the differential rent II involved the greatest amount of work and so did 
+the discovery that the third case of this class of rent had not at all been analysed in Chapter XLIII, where 
+it belonged. 
+
+In the seventies Marx engaged in entirely new special studies for this part on ground-rent. For years he 
+had studied the Russian originals of statistical reports inevitable after the "reform" of 1861 in Russia and 
+other publications on landowner-ship, had taken extracts from these originals, placed at his disposal in 
+admirably complete form by his Russian friends, and had intended to use them for a new version of this 
+part. Owing to the variety of forms both of land-ownership and of exploitation of agricultural producers 
+in Russia, this country was to play the same role in the part dealing with ground-rent that England played 
+in Book I in connection with industrial wage-labour. He was unfortunately denied the opportunity of 
+carrying out this plan. 
+
+Lastly, the seventh part was available complete, but only as a first draft, whose endlessly involved 
+periods had first to be dissected to be made printable. There exists only the beginning of the final chapter. 
+It was to treat of the three major classes of developed capitalist society — the landowners, capitalists and 
+wage-labourers — corresponding to the three great forms of revenue, ground-rent, profit and wages, and 
+the class struggle, an inevitable concomitant of their existence, as the actual consequence of the capitalist 
+period. Marx used to leave such concluding summaries until the final editing, just before going to press, 
+when the latest historical developments furnished him with unfailing regularity with proofs of the most 
+laudable timeliness for his theoretical propositions. 
+
+Citations and proofs illustrating his statements are, as in the second volume, considerably less numerous 
+than in the first. Quotations from Book I refer to pages in the 2nd and 3rd editions. Wherever the 
+manuscript refers to theoretical statements of earlier economists, the name alone is given as a rule, and 
+the quotations were to be added during the final editing. Of course, I had to leave this as it was. There are 
+only four parliamentary reports, but these are abundantly used. They are the following: 
+
+1) Reports from Committees (of the Lower House), Volume VIII, Commercial Distress, Volume II, Part 
+I. 1847-48. Minutes of Evidence. — Quoted as Commercial Distress 1847-48. 
+
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+
+2) Secret Committee of the House of Lords on Commercial Distress 1847. Report printed in 1848. 
+Evidence printed in 1857 (because considered too compromising in 1848). — Quoted as C. D. 1848/57. 
+
+3) Report: Bank Acts, 1857. — Ditto, 1858. — Reports of the Committee of the Lower House on the 
+Effect of the Bank Acts of 1844 and 1845. With evidence. -- Quoted as: B. A. (also as B. C.) 1857 or 
+1858. 
+
+I am going to start on the fourth volume-the history of the theory of surplus-value — as soon as it is in 
+any way possible. 
+
+
+
+In the preface to the second volume of Capital I had to square accounts with the gentlemen who raised a 
+hue and cry at the time because they fancied to have discovered "in Rodbertus the secret source and 
+superior predecessor of Marx". I offered them an opportunity to show "what the economics of a 
+Rodbertus can accomplish"; I defied them to show "in which way an equal average rate of profit can and 
+must come about, not only without a violation of the law of value, but on the very basis of it". These 
+same gentlemen who for either subjective or objective, but as a rule anything but scientific reasons were 
+then lionising the brave Rodbertus as an economic star of the first magnitude, have without exception 
+failed to furnish an answer. However, other people have thought it worth their while to occupy 
+themselves with the problem. 
+
+In his critique of the second volume (Conrads jahrbucher, XI, 1885, S. 452-65), Professor Lexis took up 
+the question, although he did not care to offer a direct solution. He says: "The solution of the 
+contradiction" (between the Ricardo-Marxian law of value and an equal average rate of profit) "is 
+impossible if the various classes of commodities are considered individually and if their value is to be 
+equal to their exchange-value, and the latter equal or proportional to their price." According to him, the 
+solution is only possible if "we cease measuring the value of individual commodities according to labour, 
+and consider only the production of commodities as a whole and their distribution among the aggregate 
+classes of capitalists and workers.... The working class receives but a certain portion of the total 
+product,... the other portion, which falls to the share of the capitalist class, represents the surplus-product 
+in the Marxian sense, and accordingly ... the surplus-value. Then the members of the capitalist class 
+divide this total surplus-value among themselves not in accordance with the number of workers 
+employed by them, but in proportion to the capital invested by each, the land also being accounted for as 
+capital-value." The Marxian ideal values determined by units of labour incorporated in the commodities 
+do not correspond to prices but may be "regarded as points of departure of a shift which leads to the 
+actual prices. The latter depend on the fact that equal sums of capital demand equal profits." For this 
+reason some capitalists will secure prices higher than the ideal values for their commodities, and others 
+will secure lower prices. "But since the losses and gains of surplus-value balance one another within the 
+capitalist class, the total amount of the surplus-value is the same as it would be if all prices were 
+proportional to the ideal values." 
+
+It is evident that the problem has not in any way been solved here, but has, though somewhat loosely and 
+shallowly, been on the whole correctly formulated. And this is, indeed, more than we could have 
+expected from a man who, like the above author, takes a certain pride in being a "vulgar economist". It is 
+really surprising when compared with the handiwork of other vulgar economists, which we shall later 
+discuss. Lexis's vulgar economy is, anyhow, in a class of its own. He says that capital gains might, at any 
+rate, be derived in the way indicated by Marx, but that nothing compels one to accept this view. On the 
+contrary. Vulgar economy, he says, has at least a more plausible explanation, namely: "The capitalist 
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+
+sellers, such as the producer of raw materials, the manufacturer, the wholesale dealer, and the retail 
+dealer, all make a gain on their transactions by selling at a price higher than the purchase price, thus 
+adding a certain percentage to the price they themselves pay for the commodity. The worker alone is 
+unable to obtain a similar additional value for his commodity; he is compelled by reason of his 
+unfavourable condition vis-a-vis the capitalist to sell his labour at the price it costs him, that is to say, for 
+the essential means of his subsistence.... Thus, these additions to prices retain their full impact with 
+regard to the buying worker, and cause the transfer of a part of the value of the total product to the 
+capitalist class." 
+
+One need not strain his thinking powers to see that this explanation for the profits of capital, as advanced 
+by "vulgar economy," amounts in practice to the same thing as the Marxian theory of surplus- value; that 
+the workers are in just the same "unfavourable condition" according to Lexis as according to Marx; that 
+they are just as much the victims of swindle because every non-worker can sell commodities above price, 
+while the worker cannot do so; and that it is just as easy to build up an at least equally plausible vulgar 
+socialism on the basis of this theory, as that built in England on the foundation of Jevons's and Menger's 
+theory of use- value and marginal utility. I even suspect that if Mr. George Bernard Shaw had been 
+familiar with this theory of profit, he would have likely fallen to with both hands, discarding Jevons and 
+Karl Menger, to build anew the Fabian church of the future upon this rock. 
+
+In reality, however, this theory is merely a paraphrase of the Marxian. What defrays all the price 
+additions? It is the workers' "total product". And this is due to the fact that the commodity "labour", or, 
+as Marx has it, labour-power, has to be sold below its price. For if it is a common property of all 
+commodities to be sold at a price higher than their cost of production, with labour being the sole 
+exception since it is always sold at the cost of production, then labour is simply sold below the price that 
+rules in this world of vulgar economy. Hence the resultant extra profit accruing to the capitalist, or 
+capitalist class, arises, and can only arise, in the last analysis, from the fact that the worker, after 
+reproducing the equivalent for the price of his labour-power, must produce an additional product for 
+which he is not paid — i.e., a surplus-product, a product of unpaid labour, or surplus-value. Lexis is an 
+extremely cautious man in the choice of his terms. He does not say anywhere outright that the above is 
+his own conception. But if it is, it is plain as day that we are not dealing with one of those ordinary vulgar 
+economists, of whom he says himself that every one of them is "at best only a hopeless idiot" in Marx's 
+eyes, but with a Marxist disguised as a vulgar economist. Whether this disguise has occurred consciously 
+or unconsciously is a psychological question which does not interest us at this point. Whoever would 
+care to investigate this, might also probe how a man as shrewd as Lexis undoubtedly is, could at one time 
+defend such nonsense as bimetallism. 
+
+The first to really attempt an answer to the question was Dr. Conrad Schmidt in his pamphlet entitled Die 
+Durchsdinittsprofitrate auf Grundlage des Marx'schen Werthgesetzes, Stuttgart, Dietz, 1889. Schmidt 
+seeks to reconcile the details of the formation of market-prices with both the law of value and with the 
+average rate of profit. The industrial capitalist receives in his product, first, an equivalent of the capital he 
+has advanced, and, second, a surplus-product for which he has paid nothing. But to obtain a 
+surplus-product he must advance capital to production. That is, he must apply a certain quantity of 
+materialised labour to be able to appropriate this surplus-product. For the capitalist, therefore, the capital 
+he advances represents the quantity of materialised labour socially necessary for him to obtain this 
+surplus-product. This applies to every industrial capitalist. Now, since commodities are mutually 
+exchanged, according to the law of value, in proportion to the labour socially necessary for their 
+production and since, as far as the capitalist is concerned, the labour necessary for the manufacture of the 
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+
+surplus-product happens to be past labour accumulated in his capital, it follows that surplus-products are 
+exchanged in proportion to the sums of capital required for their production, and not in proportion to the 
+labour actually incorporated in them. Hence the share of each unit of capital is equal to the sum of all 
+produced surplus-values divided by the sum of the capitals expended in production. Accordingly, equal 
+sums of capital yield equal profits in equal time spans, and this is accomplished by adding the cost-price 
+of the surplus-product so calculated, i.e., the average profit, to the cost-price of the paid product and by 
+selling both the paid and unpaid product at this increased price. The average rate of profit takes shape in 
+spite of average commodity-prices being determined, as Schmidt holds, by the law of value. 
+
+The construction is extremely ingenious. It is completely patterned after the Hegelian model, but like the 
+majority of Hegelian constructions it is not correct. Surplus-product or paid product, makes no 
+difference. If the law of value is also to be directly valid for the average prices, both of them must be sold 
+at prices proportionate to the socially necessary labour required and expended in producing them. The 
+law of value is aimed from the first against the idea derived from the capitalist mode of thought that 
+accumulated labour of the past, which comprises capital, is not merely a certain sum of finished value, 
+but that, because a factor in production and the formation of profit, it also produces value and is hence a 
+source of more value than it has itself; it establishes that living labour alone possesses this faculty. It is 
+well known that capitalists expect equal profits proportionate to their capitals and regard their advances 
+of capital as a sort of cost-price of their profits. But if Schmidt utilises this conception as a means of 
+reconciling prices based on the average rate of profit with the law of value, he repudiates the law of value 
+itself by attributing to it as one of its co-determinative factors a conception with which the law is wholly 
+at variance. 
+
+Either accumulated labour creates value the same as living labour In that case the law of value does not 
+apply. 
+
+Or, it does not create value. In that case Schmidt's demonstration is incompatible with the law of value. 
+
+Schmidt strayed into this bypath when quite close to the solution, because he believed that he needed 
+nothing short of a mathematical formula to demonstrate the conformance of the average price of every 
+individual commodity with the law of value. But while on the wrong track in this instance, in the 
+immediate proximity of the goal, the rest of his booklet is evidence of the understanding with which he 
+drew further conclusions from the first two volumes of Capital. His is the honour of independently 
+finding the correct explanation developed by Marx in the third part of the third volume for the hitherto 
+inexplicable sinking tendency of the rate of profit, and, similarly, of explaining the derivation of 
+commercial profit out of industrial surplus-value, and of making a great number of observations 
+concerning interest and ground-rent, in which he anticipates ideas developed by Marx in the fourth and 
+fifth parts of the third volume. 
+
+In a subsequent article (Neue Zeit, 1892-93, Nos. 3 and 4), Schmidt takes a different tack in his effort to 
+solve the problem. He contends that it is competition which produces the average rate of profit by 
+causing the transfer of capital from branches of production with under-average profit to branches with 
+above-average profit. It is not a revelation that competition is the great equaliser of profits. But now 
+Schmidt tries to prove that this levelling of profits is identical with a reduction of the selling price of 
+commodities in excess supply to a magnitude of value which society can pay for them according to the 
+law of value. Marx's analyses in the book itself are ample evidence why this way, too, could not lead to 
+the goal. 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Preface 
+
+After Schmidt P. Fireman tackled the problem {Conrads jahrbiicher, dritte Folge, III, S. 793). I shall not 
+go into his remarks on other aspects of the Marxian analysis. They rest upon the false assumption that 
+Marx wishes to define where he only investigates, and that in general one might expect fixed, 
+cut-to-measure, once and for all applicable definitions in Marx's works. It is self-evident that where 
+things and their interrelations are conceived, not as fixed, but as changing, their mental images, the ideas, 
+are likewise subject to change and transformation; and they are not encapsulated in rigid definitions, but 
+are developed in their historical or logical process of formation. This makes clear, of course, why in the 
+beginning of his first book Marx proceeds from the simple production of commodities as the historical 
+premise, ultimately to arrive from this basis to capital — why he proceeds from the simple commodity 
+instead of a logically and historically secondary form — from an already capitalistically modified 
+commodity. To be sure, Fireman positively fails to see this. These and other side-issues, which could 
+give rise to still other diverse objections, are better left by the wayside, while we go on forthwith to the 
+gist of the matter. While theory teaches Fireman that at a given rate of surplus-value the latter is 
+proportional to the labour-power employed, he learns from experience that at a given average rate of 
+profit, profit is proportional to the total capital employed. He explains this by saying that profit is merely 
+a conventional phenomenon (which means in his language that it belongs to a definite social formation 
+with which it stands and falls). Its existence is simply tied up with capital. The latter, provided it is strong 
+enough to secure a profit for itself, is compelled by competition also to secure for itself a rate of profit 
+equal for all sums of capital. Capitalist production is simply impossible without an equal rate of profit. 
+Given this mode of production, the quantity of profit for the individual capitalist can, at a certain rate of 
+profit, depend only on the magnitude of his capital. On the other hand, profit consists of surplus-value, of 
+unpaid labour. But how is surplus-value, whose magnitude hinges upon the degree of labour exploitation, 
+transformed into profit, whose magnitude depends upon the amount of the capital employed? "Simply by 
+selling commodities above their value in all branches of production in which the ratio between ... 
+constant and variable capital is greatest; but this also implies that commodities are sold below their value 
+in those branches of production in which the ratio between constant and variable capital = c:v is smallest, 
+and that commodities are sold at their true value only in branches in which the ratio of c:v represents a 
+certain mean figure.... Is this discrepancy between individual prices and their respective values a 
+refutation of the value principle? By no means. For since the prices of some commodities rise above their 
+value as much as the prices of others fall below it, the total sum of prices remains equal to the total sum 
+of values ... in the end this incongruity disappears. "This incongruity is a "disturbance"; "however, in the 
+exact sciences it is not customary to regard a predictable disturbance as a refutation of a law". 
+
+On comparing the relevant passages in Chapter IX with the above, it will be seen that Fireman has indeed 
+placed his finger on the salient point. But the undeservedly cool reception of his able article shows how 
+many interconnecting links would still be needed even after this discovery to enable Fireman to work out 
+a full and comprehensive solution. Although many were interested in this problem, they were all still 
+fearful of getting their fingers burnt. And this is explained not only by the incomplete form in which 
+Fireman left his discovery, but also by the undeniable faultiness of both his conception of the Marxian 
+analysis and of his own general critique of the latter, based as it was on his misconception. 
+
+Whenever there is a chance of making a fool of himself over some difficult matter, Herr Professor Julius 
+Wolf, of Zurich, never fails to do so. He tells us {Conrads Jahrbiicher, 1891, dritte Folge, II, S. 352 and 
+following) that the entire problem is resolved in relative surplus-value. The production of relative 
+surplus-value rests on the increase of constant capital vis-a-vis variable capital. "A plus in constant 
+capital presupposes a plus in the productive power of the labourers. Since this plus in productive power 
+
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+
+(by way of lowering the worker' s cost of living) produces a plus in surplus-value, a direct relation is 
+established between the increasing surplus-value and the increasing share of constant capital in total 
+capital. A plus in constant capital indicates a plus in the productive power of labour. With variable 
+capital remaining the same and constant capital increasing, surplus-value must therefore, in accordance 
+with Marx, increase as well. This was the problem presented to us." 
+
+True, Marx says the very opposite in a hundred places in the first hook; true, the assertion that, according 
+to Marx, when variable capital shrinks, relative surplus-value increases in proportion to the increase in 
+constant capital, is so astounding that it puts to shame all parliamentary declamation; true, Herr Julius 
+Wolf demonstrates in his every line that he does not in the least understand, be it relatively or absolutely, 
+the concepts of relative or absolute surplus- value; to be sure he says himself that "at first glance one 
+seems really to he in a nest of incongruities", which, by the way, is the only true statement in his entire 
+article. But what does all that matter? Herr Julius Wolf is so proud of his brilliant discovery that he 
+cannot refrain from bestowing posthumous praise on Marx for it and from extolling his own fathomless 
+nonsense as a "new proof of the keen and far-sighted way his (Marx's) system of criticism of capitalist 
+economy is set forth". 
+
+But now comes the choicest bit of all. Herr Wolf says: "Ricardo has likewise claimed that an equal 
+investment of capital yielded equal surplus-value (profit), just as the same expenditure of labour created 
+the same surplus-value (as regards its quantity). And the question now was how the one agreed with the 
+other. But Marx has refused to accept this way of putting the problem. He has proved beyond a doubt (in 
+the third volume) that the second statement was not necessarily a consequence of the law of value, that it 
+even contradicted his law of value and should therefore be forthwith repudiated." And thereupon Wolf 
+probes who of us two, Marx or I, had made a mistake. It does not occur to him, naturally, that it is he 
+who is groping in the dark. 
+
+I should offend my readers and fail to see the humour of the situation if I were to waste a single word on 
+this choice morsel. I shall only add that his audacity in using the opportunity to report the ostensible 
+gossip among professors that Conrad Schmidt's above-named work was "directly inspired by Engels" 
+matches the audacity with which he dared to say at one time what "Marx has proved beyond a doubt in 
+the third volume." Herr Julius Wolf! It may be customary in the world in which you live and strive for 
+the man who publicly poses a problem to others to acquaint his close friends on the sly with its solution. I 
+am quite prepared to believe that you are capable of this sort of thing. But that a man need not stoop to 
+such shabby tricks in my world is proved by the present preface. 
+
+No sooner had Marx died than Mr. Achille Loria hastened to publish an article about him in the Nuova 
+Antologia (April 1883). To begin with, a biography brimming with misinformation, followed by a 
+critique of public, political and literary work. He falsifies Marx's materialist conception of history and 
+distorts it with an assurance that bespeaks a great purpose. And this purpose was eventually carried out. 
+In 1886, the same Mr. Loria published a book, La teoria economica delta constituzione politica, in which 
+he announced to his astounded contemporaries that Marx's conception of history, so completely and 
+purposefully misrepresented by him in 1883, was his own discovery. To be sure, the Marxian theory is 
+reduced in this book to a rather Philistine level, and the historical illustrations and proofs abound in 
+blunders which would never be tolerated in a fourth-form boy. But what does that matter? The discovery 
+that political conditions and events are everywhere invariably explained by corresponding economic 
+conditions was, as is herewith demonstrated, not made by Marx in 1845, but by Mr. Loria in 1886. At 
+least he has happily convinced his countrymen of this, and, after his book appeared in French, also some 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Preface 
+
+Frenchmen, and can now pose in Italy as the author of a new epoch-making theory of history until the 
+Italian Socialists find time to strip the illustrious Loria of his stolen peacock feathers. 
+
+But this is just a sample or Mr. Loria' s style. He assures us that all Marx's theories rest on conscious 
+sophistry (un consaputo sofisma); that Marx did not stop at paralogisms even when he knew them to be 
+paralogisms (sapendoli tali), etc. And after thus impressing the necessary upon his readers with a series 
+of similar contemptible insinuations, so that they should regard Marx as an unprincipled upstart a la 
+Loria who achieves his little effects by the same wretched humbug as our professor from Padua, he 
+reveals an important secret to them, and thereby takes us back to the rate of profit. 
+
+Mr. Loria says: According to Marx, the amount of surplus- value (which Mr. Loria here identifies with 
+profit) produced in a capitalist industrial establishment should depend on the variable capital employed in 
+it, since constant capital does not yield profit. But this is contrary to fact. For in practice profit does not 
+depend on variable, but on total capital. And Marx himself recognises this (Book I, Chap. XIII) and 
+admits that on the surface facts appear to contradict his theory. But how does he get around this 
+contradiction? He refers his readers to an as yet unpublished subsequent volume. Loria has already told 
+his readers about this volume that he did not believe Marx had ever entertained the thought of writing it, 
+and now exclaims triumphantly: "I have not been wrong in contending that this second volume, which 
+Marx always flings at his adversaries without it ever appearing, might very well have been a shrewd 
+expedient applied by Marx whenever scientific arguments failed him (un ingegnoso spediente ideato dal 
+Marx a sostituzione degli argomenti scientifici). " And whosoever is not convinced after this that Marx 
+stands in the same class of scientific swindlers as I'illustre Loria, is past all redemption. 
+
+We have at least learned this much: According to Mr. Loria, the Marxian theory of surplus-value is 
+absolutely incompatible with the existence of a general equal rate of profit. Then, there appeared the 
+second volume and therewith my public challenge precisely on this very point. If Mr. Loria bad been one 
+of us diffident Germans, he would have experienced a certain degree of embarrassment. But he is a 
+cocky southerner, coming from a hot climate, where, as he can testify, cool nerve is a natural 
+requirement. The question of the rate of profit has been publicly put. Mr. Loria has publicly declared it 
+insoluble. And for this very reason he is now going to outdo himself by publicly solving it. 
+
+This miracle is accomplished in Conrads Jahrbucher, neue Folge, Buch XX, S. 272 and following, in an 
+article dealing with Conrad Schmidt's already cited pamphlet. After Loria learned from Schmidt how 
+commercial profit was made, he suddenly saw daylight. "Since determining value by means of 
+labour-time is to the advantage of those capitalists who invest a greater portion of their capital in wages, 
+the unproductive" (read commercial) "capital can derive a higher interest" (read profit) "from these 
+privileged capitalists and thus bring about an equalisation between the individual industrial capitalists.... 
+For instance, if each of the industrial capitalists A, B, C uses 400 working-days and 0, 400, 200 constant 
+capital respectively in production, and if the wages for 400 working-days amount to 50 working-days, 
+then each receives a surplus-value of 50 working-days, and the rate of profit is 400% for the first, 33.3% 
+for the second, and 20% for the third capitalist. But if a fourth capitalist D accumulates an unproductive 
+capital of 300, which claims an interest" (profit) "equal in value to 40 working-days from A, and an 
+interest of 20 working-days from B, then the rate of profit of capitalists A and B will sink to 20%, just as 
+that of C, while D with his capital of 300 receives profit of 60, or a rate of profit of 20%, the same as the 
+other capitalists." 
+
+With such astonishing dexterity, I'illustre Loria solves by sleight of hand the question which he had 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Preface 
+
+declared insoluble ten years previously. Unfortunately, he did not let us into the secret wherefrom the 
+"unproductive capital" obtained the power to squeeze out of the industrialists their extra profit in excess 
+of the average rate of profit, and to retain it in its own pocket, just as the landowner pockets the tenant's 
+surplus-profit as ground-rent. Indeed, according to him it would be the merchants who would raise a 
+tribute analogous to ground-rent from the industrialists, and would thereby bring about an average rate of 
+profit. Commercial capital is indeed a very essential factor in producing the general rate of profit, as 
+nearly everybody knows. But only a literary adventurer who in his heart sneezes at political economy, 
+can venture the assertion that it has the magic power to absorb all surplus-value in excess of the general 
+rate of profit even before this general rate has taken shape, and to convert it into ground-rent for itself 
+without, moreover, even having need to do with any real estate. No less astonishing is the assertion that 
+commercial capital manages to discover the particular industrialists, whose surplus-value just covers the 
+average rate of profit, and that it considers it a privilege to mitigate the lot of these luckless victims of the 
+Marxian law of value to a certain extent by selling their products gratis for them, without asking as much 
+as a commission for it. What a mountebank one must be to imagine that Marx had need to resort to such 
+miserable tricks ! 
+
+But it is not until we compare him with his northern competitors, for instance with Herr Julius Wolf, who 
+was not born yesterday either, that the illustrious Loria shines in his full glory. What a yelping pup Hen- 
+Wolf appears even in his big volume on Sozialismus und kapitalistische Gesellschaftsordnung, alongside 
+the Italian! How awkward, I am almost tempted to say modest, he appears beside the rare confidence of 
+the maestro who takes it for granted that Marx, neither more nor less than other people, was as much a 
+sophist, paralogist, humbug and mountebank as Mr. Loria himself — that Marx took in the public with the 
+promise of rounding out his theory in a subsequent volume whenever he was in a difficult position, 
+knowing full well that he neither could nor ever would write it. Boundless nerve coupled with a flair for 
+slipping like an eel through impossible situations, a heroic contempt for pummellings received, hasty 
+plagiarism of other people's accomplishments, importunate and fanfaronading advertising, spreading his 
+fame by means of a chorus of friends — who can equal him in all this? 
+
+Italy is the land of classicism. Ever since the great era when the dawn of modern times rose there, it has 
+produced magnificent characters of unequalled classic perfection, from Dante to Garibaldi. But the 
+period of its degradation and foreign domination also bequeathed it classic character-masks, among them 
+two particularly clear-cut types, that of Sganarelle and Dulcamara. The classic unity of both is embodied 
+in our illustre Loria. 
+
+In conclusion I must take my readers across the Atlantic. Dr. (Med.) George C. Stiebeling, of New York, 
+has also found a solution to the problem, and a very simple one. So simple, indeed, that no one either 
+here, or there, took him seriously. This aroused his ire, and he complained bitterly about the injustice of it 
+in an endless stream of pamphlets and newspaper articles appearing on both sides of the great water. He 
+was told in the Neue Zeit that his entire solution rested on a mathematical error. But this could scarcely 
+disturb him. Marx had also made mathematical errors, and was yet right in many things. Let us then take 
+a look at Dr. Stiebeling' s solution. 
+
+"I take two factories working with equal capitals for an equal length of time, but with a different ratio of 
+Constant and variable capitals. I make the total capital (c+v)=y, and the difference in the ratio of the 
+constant and variable capital=x. For factory I, y=c+v, for factory II, y=(c-x) + (v+x). Therefore the rate 
+of surplus-value for factory I =s/v, and for factory II = s/(v+x). Profit (p) is what I call the total 
+surplus-value (s) by which the total capital y, or c+v, is augmented in the given time; thus p=s. Hence, 
+
+
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+
+the rate of profit for factory I = p/y, or s/(c+v), and for factory II it is also p/y, or s/ (c-x)+(v+x), i.e., it is 
+also s/(c+v). The ... problem thus resolves itself in such a way that, on the basis of the law of value, with 
+equal capital and equal time, but unequal quantities of living labour, a change in the rate of surplus-value 
+causes the equalisation of an average rate of profit." (G. C. Stiebeling, Das Werthgesetz und die 
+Prof Urate, New York, John Heinrich.) 
+
+However pretty and revealing the above calculation may be, we are compelled to ask Dr. Stiebeling one 
+question: How does he know that the sum of surplus-value produced by factory I is exactly equal to the 
+sum of the surplus-value produced by factory II? He states explicitly that c, v, y and x, that is, all the 
+other factors in the calculation, are the same for both factories, but makes no mention of s. It does not by 
+any means follow from the fact that he designated both of the above-mentioned quantities of 
+surplus-value algebraically with s. Rather, it is just the thing that has to be proved, since Mr. Stiebeling 
+without further ado also identifies profit p with the surplus-value. Now there are just two possible 
+alternatives. Either the two s's are equal, both factories produce equal quantities of surplus- value, and 
+therefore also equal quantities of profit, since both capitals are equal. In that case Mr. Stiebeling has from 
+the start taken for granted what he was really called upon to prove. Or, one factory produces more 
+surplus-value than the other, in which case his entire calculation tumbles about his ears. 
+
+Mr. Stiebeling spared neither pains nor money to build mountains of calculations upon this mathematical 
+error, and to exhibit them to the public. I can assure him, for his own peace of mind, that they are nearly 
+all equally wrong, and that in the exceptional cases when this is not so, they prove something entirely 
+different from what he set out to prove. He proves, for instance, by comparing U.S. census figures for 
+1870 and 1880 that the rate of profit has actually fallen, but interprets it wrongly and assumes that 
+Marx's theory of a constantly stable rate of profit should be corrected on the basis of experience. Yet it 
+follows from the third part of the present third book that this Marxian "stable rate of profit" is purely a 
+figment of Mr. Stiebeling' s imagination, and that the tendency for the rate of profit to fall is due to 
+circumstances which are just the reverse of those indicated by Dr. Stiebeling. No doubt Dr. Stiebeling 
+has the best intentions, but when a man wants to deal with scientific questions he should above all learn 
+to read the works he wishes to use just as the author had written them, and above all without reading 
+anything into them that they do not contain. 
+
+The outcome of the entire investigation shows again with reference to this question as well that it is the 
+Marxian school alone which has accomplished something. If Fireman and Conrad Schmidt read this third 
+book, each one, for his part, may well be satisfied with his own work. 
+
+London, October 4, 1894 
+
+Frederick Engels 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 1 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 1 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Parti 
+
+THE CONVERSION OF SURPLUS-VALUE INTO PROFIT AND OF THE RATE OF 
+
+SURPLUS-VALUE INTO THE RATE OF PROFIT 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 1 
+
+
+
+Cost-Price and profit 
+
+
+
+In Book I we analysed the phenomena which constitute the process of capitalist production as such, as 
+the immediate productive process, with no regard for any of the secondary effects of outside influences. 
+But this immediate process of production does not exhaust the life span of capital. It is supplemented in 
+the actual world by the process of circulation, which was the object of study in Book II. In the latter, 
+namely in Part III, which treated the process of circulation as a medium for the process of social 
+reproduction, it developed that the capitalist process of production taken as a whole represents a 
+synthesis of the processes of production and circulation. Considering what this third book treats, it cannot 
+confine itself to general reflection relative to this synthesis. On the contrary, it must locate and describe 
+the concrete forms which grow out of the movements of capital as a whole. In their actual movement 
+capitals confront each other in such concrete shape, for which the form of capital in the immediate 
+process of production, just as its form in the process of circulation, appear only as special instances. The 
+various forms of capital, as evolved in this book, thus approach step by step the form which they assume 
+on the surface of society, in the action of different capitals upon one another, in competition, and in the 
+ordinary consciousness of the agents of production themselves. 
+
+
+
+The value of every commodity produced in the capitalist way is represented in the formula: C=c+v+s. If 
+we subtract surplus-values from this value of the product there remains a bare equivalent or a substitute 
+value in goods, for the capital-value c+v expended in the elements of production. 
+
+For example, if the production of a certain article requires a capital outlay of £500, of which £20 are for 
+the wear and tear of instruments of production, £380 for the materials of production, and £100 for 
+labour-power, and if the rate of surplus-value is 100%, then the value of the 
+product=400c+ 100v+ 100s=£600. 
+
+After deducting the surplus-value of £100, there remains a commodity-value of £500 which only replaces 
+the expended capital of £500. This portion of the value of the commodity, which replaces the price of the 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 1 
+
+consumed means of production and labour-power, only replaces what the commodity costs the capitalist 
+himself. For him it, therefore, represents the cost-price of the commodity. 
+
+What the commodity costs the capitalist and its actual production cost are two quite different magnitudes. 
+That portion of the commodity-value making up the surplus-value does not cost the capitalist anything 
+simply because it costs the labourer unpaid labour. Yet, on the basis of capitalist production, after the 
+labourer enters the production process he himself constitutes an ingredient of operating productive 
+capital, which belongs to the capitalist. Therefore, the capitalist is the actual producer of the commodity. 
+For this reason the cost-price of the commodity necessarily appears to the capitalist as the actual cost of 
+the commodity. If we take k to be the cost-price, the formula C=c+v+s turns into the formula C=k+s, that 
+is, the commodity-value=cost-price+surplus-value. 
+
+The grouping of the various value portions of a commodity which only replace the value of the capital 
+expended in its production under the head of cost-price expresses, on the one hand, the specific character 
+of capitalist production. The capitalist cost of the commodity is measured by the expenditure of capital, 
+while the actual cost of the commodity is measured by the expenditure of labour. Thus, the capitalist 
+cost-price of the commodity differs in quantity from its value, or its actual cost-price. It is smaller than 
+the value of the commodity, because, with C=k+s, it is evident that k=C-s. On the other hand, the 
+cost-price of a commodity is by no means simply a category which exists only in capitalist book-keeping. 
+The individualisation of this portion of value is continually manifest in practice in the actual production 
+of the commodity, because it has ever to be reconverted from its commodity-form by way of the process 
+of circulation into the form of productive capital, so that the cost-price of the commodity always must 
+repurchase the elements of production consumed in its manufacture. 
+
+The category of cost-price, on the other hand, has nothing to do with the formation of commodity- value, 
+or with the process of self-expansion of capital. When I know that of the value of a commodity worth 
+£600, five-sixths, or £500, represent no more than an equivalent of the capital of £500 consumed in its 
+production and that it can therefore suffice only to repurchase the material elements of this capital, I 
+know nothing as yet either of the way in which these five-sixths of the value of the commodity, which 
+represent its cost-price, are produced, or about the way in which the last sixth, which constitutes its 
+surplus-value, was produced. The investigation will show, however, that in capitalist economics the 
+cost-price assumes the false appearance of a category of value production itself. 
+
+To return to our example. Suppose the value produced by one labourer during an average social 
+working-day is represented by a money sum of 6s.=6M. Then the advanced capital of £500=400c+100v 
+represents a value produced in 1,666 2/3 ten-hour working-days, of which 1,333 1/3 working-days are 
+crystallised in the value of the means of production=400c, and 333 1/3 are crystallised in the value of 
+labour-power=100v. Having assumed a rate of surplus-value of 100%, the production of the commodity 
+to be newly formed entails a labour expenditure=100v+100s=666 2/3 ten-hour working-days. 
+
+We know, then (see Buch 1, Kap. VII, S. 201/193) [English edition: Ch. IX, p. 2l2.-Ed.] that the value of 
+the newly created product of £600 is composed of 1) the reappearing value of the constant capital of 
+£400 expended for means of production, and 2) a newly produced value of £200. The cost-price of the 
+commodity=£500 comprises the reappearing 400c and one-half of the newly produced value of £200 
+(=100v), that is, two elements of the commodity- value which are of entirely different origin. 
+
+Owing to the purposive nature of the labour expended during 666 2/3 ten-hour working-days, the value of 
+the consumed means of production amounting to £400 is transferred from these means of production to 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 1 
+
+the product. This previously existing value thus reappears as a component part of the value of the 
+product, but is not created in the process of production of this commodity. It exists as a component of the 
+value of the commodity only because it previously existed as an element of the invested capital. The 
+expended constant capital is therefore replaced by that portion of the value of the commodity which this 
+capital itself adds to that value. This element of the cost-price, therefore, has a double meaning. On the 
+one hand, it goes into the cost-price of the commodity, because it is part of the commodity-value which 
+replaces consumed capital. And on the other hand, it forms an element of the commodity-value only 
+because it is the value of expended capital or because the means of production cost so and so much. 
+
+It is quite the reverse in the case of the other element of the cost-price. The 666 2/3 working-days 
+expended in the production of the commodity create a new value of £200. One portion of this new value 
+merely replaces the advanced variable capital of £100, or the price of the labour-power employed. But 
+this advanced capital- value does not in any way go into the creation of the new value. So far as the 
+advance of capital is concerned, labour-power counts as a value. But in the process of production it acts 
+as the creator of value. The place of the value of the labour-power that obtains within the advanced 
+capital is taken in the actually functioning productive capital by living value-creating labour-power itself. 
+
+The difference between these various elements of the commodity-value, which together make up the 
+cost-price, leaps to the eye whenever a change takes place in the size of the value of either the expended 
+constant, or the expended variable, part of the capital. Let the price of the same means of production, or 
+of the constant part of capital, rise from £400 to £600, or, conversely, let it fall to £200. In the first case it 
+is not only the cost-price of the commodity which rises from £500 to 600c+100v=£700, but also the 
+value of the commodity which rises from £600 to 600c+100v+100s=£800. In the second case, it is not 
+only the cost-price which falls from £500 to 200c+100v=£300, but also the value of the commodity 
+which falls from £600 to 200c+100v+100s=£400. Since the expended constant capital transfers its own 
+value to the product, the value of the product rises or falls with the absolute magnitude of that 
+capital-value, other conditions remaining equal. Assume, on the other hand, that, other circumstances 
+remaining unchanged, the price of the same amount of labour-power rises from £100 to £150, or, 
+conversely, that it falls from £100 to £50. In the first case, the cost-price rises from £500 to 
+400c+150v=£550, and falls in the second case from £500 to 400c+50v=£450. But in either case the 
+commodity-value remains unchanged=£600; one time it is 400c+150v+50s, and the other time, 
+400c+50v+150s. The advanced variable capital does not add its own value to the product. The place of 
+its value is taken in the product rather by a new value created by labour. Therefore, a change in the 
+absolute magnitude of the variable capital, so far as it expresses merely a change in the price of 
+labour-power, does not in the least alter the absolute magnitude of the commodity- value, because it does 
+not alter anything in the absolute magnitude of the new value created by living labour-power. Such a 
+change rather affects only the relative proportion of the two component parts of the new value, of which 
+one forms surplus-value and the other makes good the variable capital and therefore passes into the 
+cost-price of the commodity. 
+
+The two elements of the cost-price, in the present case 400c+100v, have only this in common that they 
+are both parts of the commodity- value that replace advanced capital. 
+
+But this true state of affairs necessarily appears reversed from the standpoint of capitalist production. 
+
+The capitalist mode of production differs from the mode of production based on slavery, among other 
+things, by the fact that in it the value, and accordingly the price, of labour-power appears as the value, or 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 1 
+
+price, of labour itself, or as wages (Buch 1, Kap. XVII) [English edition: Ch. XIX. — Ed.]. The variable 
+part of the advanced capital, therefore, appears as capital expended in wages, as a capital-value which 
+pays for the value, and accordingly the price, of all the labour expended in production. Let us assume, for 
+instance, that an average ten-hour social working-day is incorporated in a sum of money amounting to 6 
+shillings. In that case the advance of a variable capital of £100 represents the money expression of a 
+value produced in 333 1/3 ten-hour working-days. But this value, representing purchased labour-power in 
+the capital advanced, does not, however, form a part of the actually functioning productive capital. Its 
+place in the process of production is taken by living labour-power. If, as in our illustration, the degree of 
+exploitation of the latter is 100%, then it is expended during 666 2/3 ten-hour working-days, and thereby 
+adds to the product a new value of £200. But in the capital advanced the variable capital of £100 figures 
+as capital invested in wages, or as the price of labour performed during 666 2/3 ten-hour days. The sum of 
+£100 divided by 666 2/3 gives us 3 shillings as the price of a ten-hour working-day, which is equal in 
+value to the product of five hours' labour. 
+
+Now, if we compare the capital advanced on the one hand with the commodity- value on the other, we 
+find: 
+
+I. Capital advanced £500=£400 of capital expended in means of production (price of means 
+of production)+£100 of capital expended in labour (price of 666 1/3 working-days, or wages 
+for same). 
+
+II. Value of commodities £600=£500 representing the cost-price (£400 price of expended 
+means of production+£100 price of expended 666 2/3 working-days)+£100 surplus-value. 
+
+In this formula, the portion of capital invested in labour-power differs from that invested in means of 
+production, such as cotton or coal, only by serving as payment for a materially different element of 
+production, but not by any means because it serves a functionally different purpose in the process of 
+creating commodity-value, and thereby also in the process of the self-expansion of capital. The price of 
+the means of production reappears in the cost-price of the commodities, just as it figured in the capital 
+advanced, and it does so because these means of production have been purposively consumed. The price, 
+or wages, for the 666 2/3 working-days consumed in the production of these commodities likewise 
+reappears in the cost-price of the commodities just as it has figured in the capital advanced, and also 
+because this amount of labour has been purposively expended. We see only finished and existing values 
+— the portions of the value of the advanced capital which go into the making of the value of the 
+product-but not the element creating new values. The distinction between constant and variable capital 
+has disappeared. The entire cost-price of £500 now has the double meaning that, first, it is that portion of 
+the commodity-value of £600 which replaces the capital of £500 expended in the production of the 
+commodity; and that, secondly, this component of the commodity- value exists only because it existed 
+previously as the cost-price of the elements of production employed, namely means of production and 
+labour, i.e., as advanced capital. The capital- value reappears as the cost-price of a commodity because, 
+and in so far as, it has been expended as a capital- value. 
+
+The fact that the various components of the value of the advanced capital have been expended for 
+materially different elements of production, namely for instruments of labour, raw materials, auxiliary 
+materials, and labour, requires only that the cost-price of the commodity must buy back these materially 
+different elements of production. So far as the formation of the cost-price is concerned, however, only 
+one distinction is appreciable, namely that between fixed and circulating capital. In our example we have 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 1 
+
+set down £20 for wear and tear of instruments of labour (400c=£20 for depreciation of instruments of 
+labour+£380 for materials of production). Before the productive process the value of these instruments of 
+labour was, say, £1,200. After the commodities have been produced it exists in two forms, the £20 as part 
+of the value of the commodity, and 1,200-20, or £1,180, as the remaining value of the instruments of 
+labour which, as before, are in the possession of the capitalist; in other words, as an element of his 
+productive, not of his commodity-capital. Materials of production and wages, as distinct from means of 
+labour, are entirely consumed in the production of the commodity and thus their entire value goes into 
+that of the produced commodity. We have seen how these various components of the advanced capital 
+assume the forms of fixed and circulating capital in relation to the turnover. 
+
+Accordingly, the capital advanced=£ 1,680: fixed capital=£l,200+circulating capital=£480 (=£380 in 
+materials of production plus £100 in wages). 
+
+But the cost-price of the commodity only=£500 (£20 for the wear and tear of the fixed capital, and £480 
+for circulating capital). 
+
+This difference between the cost-price of the commodity and the capital advanced merely proves, 
+however, that the cost-price of the commodity is formed exclusively by the capital actually consumed in 
+its production. 
+
+Means of production valued at £1,200 are employed in producing the commodity, but only £20 of this 
+advanced capital-value are lost in production. Thus, the employed fixed capital goes only partially into 
+the cost-price of the commodity, because it is only partially consumed in its production. The employed 
+circulating capital goes entirely into the cost-price of the commodity, because it is entirely consumed in 
+production. But does not this only prove that the consumed portions of the fixed and circulating capital 
+pass uniformly, pro rata to the magnitude of their values, into the cost-price of the commodity and that 
+this component of the value of the commodity originates solely with the capital expended in its 
+production? If this were not so, it would be inexplicable why the advanced fixed capital of £1,200 should 
+not, aside from the £20 which it loses in the productive process, also contribute the other £1,180 which it 
+does not lose. 
+
+This difference between fixed and circulating capital with reference to the calculation of the cost-price, 
+therefore, only confirms the seeming origination of the cost-price from the expended capital- value, or the 
+price paid by the capitalist himself for the expended elements of production, including labour. On the 
+other hand, so far as the formation of value is concerned, the variable portion of capital invested in 
+labour-power is here emphatically identified under the head of circulating capital with constant capital 
+(that part of capital which consists of materials of production), and this completes the mystification of the 
+self-expansion process of capital. \ 11 
+
+So far we have considered just one element of the value of commodities, namely the cost-price. We must 
+now turn also to the other component of the value of commodities, namely the excess over the cost-price, 
+or the surplus-value. In the first place, then, surplus-value is the excess value of a commodity over and 
+above its cost-price. But since the cost-price equals the value of the consumed capital, into whose 
+material elements it is continually reconverted, this excess value is an accretion in the value of the capital 
+expended in the production of the commodity and returning by way of its circulation. 
+
+We have already seen earlier that, though s, the surplus-value, springs merely from a change in the value 
+of the variable capital v and is, therefore, originally but an increment of variable capital, after the process 
+
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+
+of production is over it nevertheless also forms an increment of c+v, the expended total capital. The 
+formula c+(v+s), which indicates that s is produced through the conversion of a definite capital-value v 
+advanced for labour-power into a fluctuating magnitude, i.e., of a constant magnitude into a variable one, 
+may also be represented as (c+v)+s. Before production took place we had a capital of £500. After 
+production is completed we have the capital of £500 plus a value increment of £100. [2] 
+
+However, surplus-value forms an increment not only of the portion of the advanced capital which goes 
+into the self-expansion process, but also of the portion which does not go into it. In other words, it is an 
+accretion not only to the consumed capital made good out of the cost-price of the commodity, but to all 
+the capital invested in production. Before the production process we had a capital valued at £1,680, 
+namely £1,200 of fixed capital invested in means of production, only £20 of which go into the value of 
+the commodity for wear and tear, plus £480 of circulating capital in materials of production and wages. 
+After the production process we have £1,180 as the constituent element of the value of the productive 
+capital plus a commodity-capital of £600. By adding these two sums of value we find that the capitalist 
+now has a value of £1,780. After deducting his advanced total capital of £1,680 there remains a value 
+increment of £100. The £100 of surplus- value thus form as much of an increment in relation to the 
+invested £1,680 as to its fraction of £500 expended during production. 
+
+It is now clear to the capitalist that this increment of value springs from the productive processes 
+undertaken with the capital, that it therefore springs from the capital itself, because it is there after the 
+production process, while it is not there before it. As for the capital consumed in production, the 
+surplus-value seems to spring equally from all its different elements of value consisting of means of 
+production and labour. For all these elements contribute equally to the formation of the cost-price. All of 
+them add their values, obtaining as advanced capital, to the value of the product, and are not 
+differentiated as constant and variable magnitudes of value. This becomes obvious if we assume for a 
+moment that all the expended capital consisted either exclusively of wages, or exclusively of the value of 
+the means of production. In the first case, we should then have the commodity-value of 500v+100s 
+instead of the commodity- value of 400c+100v+100s. The capital of £500 laid out in wages represents the 
+value of all the labour expended in the production of the commodity- value of £600, and for just this 
+reason forms the cost-price of the entire product. But the formation of this cost-price, whereby the value 
+of the expended capital is reproduced as a constituent part of the value of the product, is the only process 
+in the formation of this commodity- value that is known to us. We do not know how its surplus-value 
+portion of £100 is formed. The same is true in the second case, in which the commodity-value = 
+500c+100s. We know in both cases that surplus- value is derived from a given value, because this value 
+was advanced in the form of productive capital, be it in the form of labour or of means of production. On 
+the other hand, this advanced capital- value cannot form surplus-value for the reason that it has been 
+expended and therefore constitutes the cost-price of the commodity. Precisely because it forms the 
+cost-price of the commodity, it does not form any surplus-value, but merely an equivalent, a value 
+replacing the expended capital. So far, therefore, as it forms surplus-value, it does so not in its specific 
+capacity as expended, but rather as advanced, and hence utilised, capital. For this reason, the 
+surplus-value arises as much out of the portion of the advanced capital which goes into the cost-price of 
+the commodity, as out of the portion which does not. In short, it arises equally out of the fixed and the 
+circulating components of the utilised capital. The aggregate capital serves materially as the creator of 
+products, the means of labour as well as the materials of production, and the labour. The total capital 
+materially enters into the actual labour-process, even though only a portion of it enters the process of 
+self-expansion. This is, perhaps, the very reason why it contributes only in part to the formation of the 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 1 
+
+cost-price, but totally to the formation of surplus-value. However that may be, the outcome is that 
+surplus-value springs simultaneously from all portions of the invested capital. This deduction may be 
+substantially abbreviated, by saying pointedly and concisely in the words of Malthus: "The capitalist ... 
+expects an equal profit upon all the parts of the capital which he advances. "[3] 
+
+In its assumed capacity of offspring of the aggregate advanced capital, surplus-value takes the converted 
+form of profit. Hence, a certain value is capital when it is invested with a view to producing profit [41, or, 
+there is profit because a certain value was employed as capital. Suppose profit is p. Then the formula 
+C=c+v+s=k+s turns into the formula C=k+p, or the value of a commodity=cost-price+ profit. 
+
+The profit, such as it is represented here, is thus the same as surplus-value, only in a mystified form that 
+is nonetheless a necessary outgrowth of the capitalist mode of production. The genesis of the mutation of 
+values that occurs in the course of the production process, must be transferred from the variable portion 
+of the capital to the total capital, because there is no apparent distinction between constant and variable 
+capital in the assumed formation of the cost-price. Because at one pole the price of labour-power 
+assumes the transmuted form of wages, surplus-value appears at the opposite pole in the transmuted form 
+of profit. 
+
+We have seen that the cost-price of a commodity is smaller than its value. Since C=k+s, it follows that 
+k=C-s. The formula C=k+s reduces itself to C=k, or commodity- value=commodity cost-price only if s=0, 
+a case which never occurs on the basis of capitalist production, although peculiar market conditions may 
+reduce the selling price of commodities to the level of, or even below, their cost-price. 
+
+Hence, if a commodity is sold at its value, a profit is realised which is equal to the excess of its value 
+over its cost-price, and therefore equal to the entire surplus-value incorporated in the value of the 
+commodity. But the capitalist may sell a commodity at a profit even when he sells it below its value. So 
+long as its selling price is higher than its cost-price, though it may be lower than its value, a portion of 
+the surplus-value incorporated in it is always realised, thus always yielding a profit. In our illustration the 
+value of the commodity is £600, and the cost-price £500. If the commodity is sold at £510, 520, 530, 560 
+or 590, it is sold respectively £90, 80, 70, 40, or 10 below its value. Yet a profit of £10, 20, 30. 60, or 90 
+respectively is realised in its sale. There is obviously an indefinite number of selling prices possible 
+between the value of a commodity and its cost-price. The greater the surplus-value element of the value 
+of a commodity, the greater the practical range of these intermediate prices. 
+
+This explains more than just the everyday phenomena of competition, such as certain cases of 
+underselling, abnormally low commodity-prices in certain lines of industry [5]_, etc. The fundamental law 
+of capitalist competition, which political economy had not hitherto grasped, the law which regulates the 
+general rate of profit and the so-called prices of production determined by it, rests, as we shall later see, 
+on this difference between the value and the cost-price of commodities, and on the resulting possibility of 
+selling a commodity at a profit under its value. 
+
+The minimal limit of the selling price of a commodity is its cost-price. If it is sold under its cost-price, 
+the expended constituent elements of productive capital cannot be fully replaced out of the selling price. 
+If this process continues, the value of the advanced capital disappears. From this point of view alone, the 
+capitalist is inclined to regard the cost-price as the true inner value of the commodity, because it is the 
+price required for the bare conservation of his capital. But there is also this, that the cost-price of a 
+commodity is the purchase price paid by the capitalist himself for its production, therefore the purchase 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 1 
+
+price determined by the production process itself. For this reason, the excess value, or the surplus-value, 
+realised in the sale of a commodity appears to the capitalist as an excess of its selling price over its value, 
+instead of an excess of its value over its cost-price, so that accordingly the surplus-value incorporated in 
+a commodity is not realised through its sale, but springs out of the sale itself. We have given this illusion 
+closer consideration in Book I (Kap. IV, 2) [English edition: Ch. V, 2. — Ed.] ("Contradictions in the 
+General Formula of Capital"), but revert here for a moment to the form in which it was reaffirmed by 
+Torrens, among others, as an advance of political economy beyond Ricardo. 
+
+"The natural price, consisting of the cost of production, or, in other words, of the capital expended in 
+raising or fabricating commodities, cannot include the profit.... The farmer, we will suppose, expends one 
+hundred quarters of corn in cultivating his fields, and obtains in return one hundred and twenty quarters. 
+In this case, twenty quarters, being the excess of produce above expenditure, constitute the farmer's 
+profit; but it would be absurd to call this excess, or profit, a part of the expenditures... The master 
+manufacturer expends a certain quantity of raw material, of tools and implements of trade, and of 
+subsistence for labour, and obtains in return a quantity of finished work. This finished work must possess 
+a higher exchangeable value than the materials, tools, and subsistence, by the advance of which it was 
+obtained." Torrens concludes therefrom that the excess of the selling price over the cost-price, or profit, 
+is derived from the fact that the consumers, "either by immediate or circuitous barter give some greater 
+portion of all the ingredients of capital than their production costs ".[6] 
+
+Indeed, the excess over a given magnitude cannot form a part of this magnitude, and therefore the profit, 
+the excess value of a commodity over the capitalist's expenditures, cannot form a part of these 
+expenditures. Hence, if no other element than the value advance of the capitalist enters into the formation 
+of the value of a commodity, it is inexplicable how more value should come out of production than went 
+into it, for something cannot come out of nothing. But Torrens only evades this creation out of nothing 
+by transferring it from the sphere of commodity-production to that of commodity-circulation. Profit 
+cannot come out of production, says Torrens, for otherwise it would already be contained in the cost of 
+production, and there would not be a surplus over this cost. Profit cannot come out of the exchange of 
+commodities, replies Ramsay, unless it already existed before this exchange. The sum of the value of the 
+exchanged products is evidently not altered in the exchange of these products, whose sum of value it is. It 
+is the same before and after the exchange. It should be noted here that Malthus refers expressly to the 
+authority of Torrens ]T[ although he himself has a different explanation for the sale of commodities 
+above their value, or rather has no explanation at all, since all arguments of this sort never, in effect, fail 
+to be reduced to the same thing as the once-famed negative weight of phlogiston. 
+
+In a social order dominated by capitalist production even the non-capitalist producer is gripped by 
+capitalist conceptions. Balzac, who is generally remarkable for his profound grasp of reality, aptly 
+describes in his last novel, Les Pay sans, how a petty peasant performs many small tasks gratuitously for 
+his usurer, whose goodwill he is eager to retain, and how he fancies that he does not give the latter 
+something for nothing because his own labour does not cost him any cash outlay. As for the usurer, he 
+thus fells two dogs with one stone. He saves the cash outlay for wages and enmeshes the peasant, who is 
+gradually ruined by depriving his own field of labour, deeper and deeper in the spider-web of usury. 
+
+The thoughtless conception that the cost-price of a commodity constitutes its actual value, and that 
+surplus-value springs from selling the product above its value, so that commodities would be sold at their 
+value if their selling price were to equal their cost-price, i.e., if it were to equal the price of the consumed 
+means of production plus wages, has been heralded to the world as a newly discovered secret of 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 1 
+
+socialism by Proudhon with his customary quasi- scientific chicanery. Indeed, this reduction of the value 
+of commodities to their cost-price is the basis of his People's Bank. It was earlier shown that the various 
+constituent elements of the value of a product may be represented in proportional parts of the product 
+itself. For instance (Buch I, Kap. VI 1, 2, S. 211/203) [English edition: Ch. IX, 2, pp. 220-21. - Ed.] if 
+the value of 20 lbs. of yarn is 30 shillings — namely 24 shillings of means of production, 3 shillings of 
+labour-power, and 3 shillings of surplus-value — then this surplus-value may be represented as 1/10 of 
+the product=2 lbs. of yarn. Should these 20 lbs. of yarn now be sold at their cost-price, at 27 shillings, 
+then the purchaser receives 2 lbs. of yarn for nothing, or the article is sold 1/10 below its value. But the 
+labourer has, as before, performed his surplus-labour, only this time for the purchaser of the yarn instead 
+of the capitalist yarn producer. It would be altogether wrong to assume that if all commodities were sold 
+at their cost-price, the result would really be the same as if they had all been sold above their cost-price, 
+but at their value. For even if the value of the labour-power, the length of the working-day, and the 
+degree of exploitation of labour were the same everywhere, the quantities of surplus-value contained in 
+the values of the various kinds of commodities would be unequal, depending on the different organic 
+composition of the capitals advanced for their production. [81 
+
+FOOTNOTES 
+
+OJ In Book I (Kap. VII, 3, S. 216/206 ff.) [English edition: Ch. IX, 3, 225 ff. - Ed.] we have given the 
+example of N. W. Senior to show what confusion this may create in the mind of the economist. 
+
+[21 "From what has gone before, we know that surplus-value is purely the result of a variation in the 
+value of v, of that portion of the capital which is transformed into labour-power; consequently, 
+v+s=v+Av (or v plus an increment of v). But the fact that it is v alone that varies, and the conditions of 
+that variation, are obscured by the circumstance that in consequence of the increase in the variable 
+component of the capital, there is also an increase in the sum total of the advanced capital. It was 
+originally £500, and becomes £590. " (Buch I, Kap. VI I, 1, S. 203/195.) [English edition: Ch. IX, 1, p. 
+214. -Ed.] 
+
+[31 Malthus, Principles of Political Economy, 2nd ed., London, 1836, p. 268. 
+
+[41 "Capital is that which is expended with a view to profit." Malthus, Definitions in Political Economy, 
+London, 1827, p. 86. 
+
+[51 Cf. Buch I. Kap. XVIII, 1, S. 571/561 ff. [English edition: Ch. XX, 1, p. 549 ff. - Ed.] 
+
+[61 R. Torrens, An Essay on the Production of Wealth, London, 1821, pp. 51-53, and 349. 
+
+[71 Malthus, Definitions in Political Economy, London, 1853, pp. 70, 71. 
+
+[81 "The masses of value and of surplus-value produced by different capitals — the value of labour-power 
+being given and its degree of exploitation being equal — vary directly as the amounts of the variable 
+constituents of these capitals, i.e., as their constituents transformed into living labour-power." (Buch 1, 
+Kap. IX. S. 312/303.) [English edition: Ch. XI, pp. 306/307. - Ed.] 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 1 
+
+Transcribed for the Internet by Hinrich Kuhls 
+
+Next: Chapter 2 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 2 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Parti 
+
+THE CONVERSION OF SURPLUS-VALUE INTO PROFIT AND OF THE RATE OF 
+
+SURPLUS-VALUE INTO THE RATE OF PROFIT 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 2 
+
+
+
+The Rate of Profit 
+
+
+
+The general formula of capital is M — C — M'. In other words, a sum of value is thrown into circulation 
+to extract a larger sum out of it. The process which produces this larger sum is capitalist production. The 
+process that realises it is circulation of capital. The capitalist does not produce a commodity for its own 
+sake, nor for the sake of its use- value, or his personal consumption. The product in which the capitalist is 
+really interested is not the palpable product itself, but the excess value of the product over the value of 
+the capital consumed by it. The capitalist advances the total capital without regard to the different roles 
+played by its components in the production of surplus-value. He advances all these components 
+uniformly, not just to reproduce the advanced capital, but rather to produce value in excess of it. The 
+only way in which he can convert the value of his advanced variable capital into a greater value is by 
+exchanging it for living labour and exploiting living labour. But he cannot exploit this labour unless he 
+makes a simultaneous advance of the conditions for performing this labour, namely means of labour and 
+subjects of labour, machinery and raw materials, i.e., unless he converts a certain amount of value in his 
+possession into the form of conditions of production; for he is a capitalist and can undertake the process 
+of exploiting labour only because, being the owner of the conditions of labour, he confronts the labourer 
+as the owner of only labour-power. As already shown in the first book [English edition: Vol. 1, pp. 
+168-69. 714-16. — Ed.], it is precisely the fact that non-workers own the means of production which turns 
+labourers into wage- workers and non- workers into capitalists. 
+
+The capitalist does not care whether it is considered that he advances constant capital to make a profit out 
+of his variable capital, or that he advances variable capital to enhance the value of the constant capital; 
+that he invests money in wages to raise the value of his machinery and raw materials, or that he invests 
+money in machinery and raw materials to be able to exploit labour. Although it is only the variable 
+portion of capital which creates surplus-value, it does so only if the other portions, the conditions of 
+production, are likewise advanced. Seeing that the capitalist can exploit labour only by advancing 
+constant capital and that he can turn his constant capital to good account only by advancing variable 
+capital, he lumps them all together in his imagination, and much more so since the actual rate of his gain 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 2 
+
+is not determined by its proportion to the variable, but to the total capital, not by the rate of surplus-value, 
+but by the rate of profit. And the latter, as we shall see, may remain the same and yet express different 
+rates of surplus-value. 
+
+The costs of the product include all the elements of its value paid by the capitalist or for which he has 
+thrown an equivalent into production. These costs must be made good to preserve the capital or to 
+reproduce it in its original magnitude. 
+
+The value contained in a commodity is equal to the labour-time expended in its production, and the sum 
+of this labour consists of paid and unpaid portions. But for the capitalist the costs of the commodity 
+consist only of that portion of the labour materialised in it for which he has paid. The surplus-labour 
+contained in the commodity costs the capitalist nothing, although, like the paid portion, it costs the 
+labourer his labour, and although it creates value and enters into the commodity as a value-creating 
+element quite like paid labour. The capitalist's profit is derived from the fact that he has something to sell 
+for which he has paid nothing. The surplus-value, or profit, consists precisely in the excess value of a 
+commodity over its cost-price, i.e., the excess of the total labour embodied in the commodity over the 
+paid labour embodied in it. The surplus-value, whatever its origin, is thus a surplus over the advanced 
+total capital. The proportion of this surplus to the total, capital is therefore expressed by the fraction s/C , 
+in which C stands for total capital. We thus obtain the rate of profit s/C=s/(c+v), as distinct from the rate 
+of surplus-value s/v. 
+
+The rate of surplus-value measured against the variable capital is called rate of surplus-value. The rate of 
+surplus-value measured against the total capital is called rate of profit. These are two different 
+measurements of the same entity, and owing to the difference of the two standards of measurement they 
+express different proportions or relations of this entity. 
+
+The transformation of surplus-value into profit must be deduced from the transformation of the rate of 
+surplus-value into the rate of profit, not vice versa. And in fact it was rate of profit which was the 
+historical point of departure. Surplus-value and rate of surplus-value are, relatively, the invisible and 
+unknown essence that wants investigating, while rate of profit and therefore the appearance of 
+surplus-value in the form of profit are revealed on the surface of the phenomenon. 
+
+So far as the individual capitalist is concerned, it is evident that he is only interested in the relation of the 
+surplus-value, or the excess value at which he sells his commodities, to the total capital advanced for the 
+production of the commodities, while the specific relationship and inner connection of this surplus with 
+the various components of capital fail to interest him, and it is, moreover, rather in his interests to draw 
+the veil over this specific relationship and this intrinsic connection. 
+
+Although the excess value of a commodity over its cost-price is shaped in the immediate process of 
+production, it is realised only in the process of circulation, and appears all the more readily to have arisen 
+from the process of circulation, since in reality, under competition, in the actual market, it depends on 
+market conditions whether or not and to what extent this surplus is realised. There is no need to waste 
+words at this point about the fact that if a commodity is sold above or below its value, there is merely 
+another kind of division of surplus-value, and that this different division, this changed proportion in 
+which various persons share in the surplus-value, does not in any way alter either the magnitude or the 
+nature of that surplus-value. It is not alone the metamorphoses discussed by us in Book II that take place 
+in the process of circulation; they fall in with actual competition, the sale and purchase of commodities 
+above or below their value, so that the surplus-value realised by the individual capitalist depends as much 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 2 
+
+on the sharpness of his business wits as on the direct exploitation of labour. 
+
+In the process of circulation the time of circulation comes to exert its influence alongside the 
+working-time, thereby limiting the amount of surplus-value realisable within a given time span. Still 
+other elements derived from circulation intrude decisively into the actual production process. The actual 
+process of production and the process of circulation intertwine and intermingle continually, and thereby 
+invariably adulterate their typical distinctive features. The production of surplus-value, and of value in 
+general, receives new definition in the process of circulation, as previously shown. Capital passes 
+through the circuit of its metamorphoses. Finally, stepping beyond its inner organic life, so to say, it 
+enters into relations with outer life, into relations in which it is not capital and labour which confront one 
+another, but capital and capital in one case, and individuals, again simply as buyers and sellers, in the 
+other. The time of circulation and working-time cross paths and thus both seem to determine the 
+surplus-value. The original form in which capital and wage-labour confront one another is disguised 
+through the intervention of relationships seemingly independent of it. Surplus-value itself does not 
+appear as the product of the appropriation of labour-time, but as an excess of the selling price of 
+commodities over their cost-price, the latter thus being easily represented as their actual value (valeur 
+intrinsEque), while profit appears as an excess of the selling price of commodities over their immanent 
+value. 
+
+True, the nature of surplus-value impresses itself constantly upon the consciousness of the capitalist 
+during the process of production, as his greed for the labour-time of others, etc., has revealed in our 
+analysis of surplus- value. But: 1) The actual process of production is only a fleeting stage which 
+continually merges with the process of circulation, just as the latter merges with the former, so that in the 
+process of production, the more or less clearly dawning notion of the source of the gain made in it, i.e., 
+the inkling of the nature of surplus-value, stands at best as a factor equally valid as the idea that the 
+realised surplus originates in a movement that is independent of the production process, that it arises in 
+circulation, and that it belongs to capital irrespective of the latter's relation to labour. Even such modern 
+economists as Ramsay, Malthus, Senior, Torrens, etc., identify these phenomena of circulation directly as 
+proofs that capital in its bare material existence, independent of its social relation to labour which makes 
+capital of it, is, as it were, an independent source of surplus-value alongside labour and independent of 
+labour. 2) Under the item of expenses, which embrace wages as well as the price of raw materials, wear 
+and tear of machinery, etc., the extortion of unpaid labour figures only as a saving in paying for an article 
+which is included in expenses, only as a smaller payment for a certain quantity of labour, similar to the 
+saving when raw materials are bought more cheaply, or the depreciation of machinery decreases. In this 
+way the extortion of surplus-labour loses its specific character. Its specific relationship to surplus-value is 
+obscured. This is greatly furthered and facilitated, as shown in Book I (Abschn. VI) [English edition: Part 
+VI, pp. 535-43. — Ed.], by representing the value of labour-power in the form of wages. 
+
+The relationships of capital are obscured by the fact that all parts of capital appear equally as the source 
+of excess value (profit). 
+
+The way in which surplus-value is transformed into the form of profit by way of the rate of profit is, 
+however, a further development of the inversion of subject and object that takes place already in the 
+process of production. In the latter, we have seen, the subjective productive forces of labour appear as 
+productive forces of capital. [English edition: Vol. 1, pp. 332-33. — Ed.] On the one hand, the value, or 
+the past labour, which dominates living labour, is incarnated in the capitalist. On the other hand, the 
+labourer appears as bare material labour-power, as a commodity. Even in the simple relations of 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 2 
+
+production this inverted relationship necessarily produces certain correspondingly inverted conceptions, 
+a transposed consciousness which is further developed by the metamorphoses and modifications of the 
+actual circulation process. 
+
+It is altogether erroneous, as a study of the Ricardian school shows, to try to identify the laws of the rate 
+of profit with the laws of the rate of surplus-value, or vice versa. The capitalist naturally does not see the 
+difference between them. In the formula s/C the surplus-value is measured by the value of the total 
+capital advanced for its production, of which a part was totally consumed in this production and a part 
+was merely employed in it. In fact, the formula s/C expresses the degree of self-expansion of the total 
+capital advanced, or, taken in conformity with inner conceptual connections and the nature of 
+surplus-value, it indicates the ratio of the amount of variation of variable capital to the magnitude of the 
+advanced total capital. 
+
+In itself, the magnitude of value of total capital has no inner relationship to the magnitude of 
+surplus-value, at least not directly. So far as its material elements are concerned, the total capital minus 
+the variable capital, that is, the constant capital, consists of the material requisites - the means of labour 
+and materials of labour - needed to materialise labour. It is necessary to have a certain quantity of means 
+and materials of labour for a specific quantity of labour to materialise in commodities and thereby to 
+produce value. A definite technical relation depending on the special nature of the labour applied is 
+established between the quantity of labour and the quantity of means of production to which this labour 
+is to be applied. Hence there is also to that extent a definite relation between the quantity of 
+surplus-value, or surplus-labour, and the quantity of means of production. For instance, if the labour 
+necessary for the production of the wage amounts to a daily six hours, the labourer must work 12 hours 
+to do six hours of surplus-labour, or produce a surplus-value of 100%. He uses up twice as much of the 
+means of production in 12 hours as he does in six. Yet this is no reason for the surplus-value produced by 
+him in six hours to be directly related to the value of the means of production used up in those six, or in 
+12 hours. This value is here altogether immaterial; it is only a matter of the technically required quantity. 
+It does not matter whether the raw materials or means of labour are cheap or dear, as long as they have 
+the required use-value and are available in technically prescribed proportion to the labour to be applied. 
+If I know that x lbs. of cotton are consumed in an hour of spinning and that they cost a shillings, then, of 
+course, I also know that 12 hours' spinning consumes 12x lbs. of cotton = 12 a shillings, and can then 
+calculate the proportion of the surplus- value to the value of the 12 as well as to that of the six. But the 
+relation of living labour to the value of means of production obtains here only to the extent that a 
+shillings serve as a name for x lbs. of cotton; because a definite quantity of cotton has a definite price, 
+and therefore, conversely, a definite price may also serve as an index for a definite quantity of cotton, so 
+long as the price of cotton does not change. If I know that the labourer must work 12 hours for me to 
+appropriate six hours of surplus-labour, that therefore I must have a 12-hour supply of cotton ready for 
+use, and if I know the price of this quantity of cotton needed for 12 hours, then I have an indirect relation 
+between the price of cotton (as an index of the required quantity) and the surplus-value. But, conversely, 
+I can never conclude the quantity of the raw material that may be consumed in, say, one hour, and not 
+six, of spinning from the price of the raw material. There is, then, no necessary inner relation between the 
+value of the constant capital, nor, therefore, between the value of the total capital (=c+v) and the 
+surplus-value. 
+
+If the rate of surplus-value is known and its magnitude given, the rate of profit expresses nothing but 
+what it actually is, namely a different way of measuring surplus-value, its measurement according to the 
+value of the total capital instead of the value of the portion of capital from which surplus-value directly 
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 2 
+
+originates by way of its exchange for labour. But in reality (i.e., in the world of phenomena) the matter is 
+reversed. Surplus-value is given, but given as an excess of the selling price of the commodity over its 
+cost-price; and it remains a mystery where this surplus originated - from the exploitation of labour in the 
+process of production, or from outwitting the purchaser in the process of circulation, or from both. What 
+is also given is the proportion of this surplus to the value of the total capital, or the rate of profit. The 
+calculation of this excess of the selling price over the cost-price in relation to the value of the advanced 
+total capital is very important and natural, because in effect it yields the ratio in which total capital has 
+been expanded, i.e., the degree of its self-expansion. If we proceed from this rate of profit, we cannot 
+therefore conclude the specific relations between the surplus and the portion of capital invested in wages. 
+We shall see in a subsequent chapter [K. Marx, Theorien ber den Mehrwert. K. Marx/F. Engels, Werke, 
+Band 26, Teil 3, S. 25-28 . — Ed.] what amusing somersaults Malthus makes when he tries in this way to 
+get at the secret of the surplus-value and of its specific relation to the variable part of the capital. What 
+the rate of profit actually shows is rather a uniform relation of the surplus to equal portions of the total 
+capital, which, from this point of view, does not show any inner difference at all, unless it be between the 
+fixed and circulating capital. And it shows this difference, too, only because the surplus is calculated in 
+two ways; namely, first, as a simple magnitude - as excess over the cost-price. In this, its initial, form, the 
+entire circulating capital goes into the cost-price, while of the fixed capital only the wear and tear goes 
+into it. Second, the relation of this excess in value to the total value of the advanced capital. In this case, 
+the value of the total fixed capital enters into the calculation, quite the same as the circulating capital. 
+Therefore, the circulating capital goes in both times in the same way, while the fixed capital goes in 
+differently the first time, and in the same way as circulating capital the second time. Under the 
+circumstances the difference between fixed and circulating capital is the only one which obtrudes itself. 
+
+If, as Hegel would put it, the surplus therefore re-reflects itself in itself out of the rate of profit, or, put 
+differently, the surplus is more closely characterised by the rate of profit, it appears as a surplus produced 
+by capital above its own value over a year, or in a given period of circulation. 
+
+Although the rate of profit thus differs numerically from the rate of surplus-value, while surplus-value 
+and profit are actually the same thing and numerically equal, profit is nevertheless a converted form of 
+surplus-value, a form in which its origin and the secret of its existence are obscured and extinguished. In 
+effect, profit is the form in which surplus-value presents itself to the view, and must initially be stripped 
+by analysis to disclose the latter. In surplus-value, the relation between capital and labour is laid bare; in 
+the relation of capital to profit, i.e., of capital to surplus-value that appears on the one hand as an excess 
+over the cost-price of commodities realised in the process of circulation and, on the other, as a surplus 
+more closely determined by its relation to the total capital, the capital appears as a relation to itself, a 
+relation in which it, as the original sum of value, is distinguished from a new value which it generated. 
+One is conscious that capital generates this new value by its movement in the processes of production 
+and circulation. But the way in which this occurs is cloaked in mystery and appears to originate from 
+hidden qualities inherent in capital itself. 
+
+The further we follow the process of the self-expansion of capital, the more mysterious the relations of 
+capital will become, and the less the secret of its internal organism will be revealed. 
+
+In this part, the rate of profit is numerically different from the rate of surplus- value; while profit and 
+surplus-value are treated as having the same numerical magnitude but only a different form. In the next 
+part we shall see how the alienation goes further, and how profit represents a magnitude differing also 
+numerically from surplus-value. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 2 
+
+
+
+Transcribed for the Internet by Hinrich Kuhls 
+
+Next: Chapter 3 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 3 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Parti 
+
+THE CONVERSION OF SURPLUS-VALUE INTO PROFIT AND OF THE RATE OF 
+
+SURPLUS-VALUE INTO THE RATE OF PROFIT 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 3 
+
+The Relation of the Rate of Profit to the Rate of 
+Surplus-Value 
+
+
+
+Here, as at the close of the preceding chapter, and generally in this entire first part, we presume the 
+amount of profit falling to a given capital to be equal to the total amount of surplus-value produced by 
+means of this capital during a certain period of circulation. We thus leave aside for the present the fact 
+that, on the one hand, this surplus-value may be broken up into various sub-forms, such as interest on 
+capital, ground-rent, taxes, etc., and that, on the other, it is not, as a rule, identical with profit as 
+appropriated by virtue of a general rate of profit, which will be discussed in the second part. 
+
+So far as the quantity of profit is assumed to be equal to that of surplus-value, its magnitude, and that of 
+the rate of profit, is determined by ratios of simple figures given or ascertainable in every individual case. 
+The analysis, therefore, first is carried on purely in the mathematical field. 
+
+We retain the designations used in Books I and II. Total capital C consists of constant capital c and 
+variable capital v, and produces a surplus-value s. The ratio of this surplus-value to the advanced variable 
+capital, or s/v, is called the rate of surplus-value and designated s'. Therefore s/v=s', and consequently 
+s=s'v. If this surplus-value is related to the total capital instead of the variable capital, it is called profit, p, 
+and the ratio of the surplus-value s to the total capital C, or s/C, is called the rate of profit, p'. 
+Accordingly, 
+
+s s 
+
+P'= - = - 
+
+C c+v 
+
+Now, substituting for s its equivalent s'v, we find 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 3 
+V V 
+
+p'=s' — =s' — 
+C c+v 
+
+which equation may also be expressed by the proportion 
+
+p':s'=v:C; 
+
+the rate of profit is related to the rate of surplus-value as the variable capital is to the total capital. 
+
+It follows from this proportion that the rate of profit, p', is always smaller than s', the rate of 
+surplus-value, because v, the variable capital, is always smaller than C, the sum of v+c, or the variable 
+plus the constant capital; the only, practically impossible case excepted, in which v=C, that is, no 
+constant capital at all, no means of production, but only wages are advanced by the capitalist. 
+
+However, our analysis also considers a number of other factors which have a determining influence on 
+the magnitude of c, v, and s, and must therefore be briefly examined. 
+
+First, the value of money. We may assume this to be constant throughout. 
+
+Second, the turnover. We shall leave this factor entirely out of consideration for the present, since its 
+influence on the rate of profit will be treated specially in a later chapter. [Here we anticipate just one 
+point, that the formula p - s' v/C is strictly correct only for one period of turnover of the variable capital. 
+But we may correct it for an annual turnover by substituting for the simple rate of surplus-value, s', the 
+annual rate of surplus-value, s' n. In this, n is the number of turnovers of the variable capital within one 
+year. (Cf. Book II, Chapter XVI, 1) - F. E.] 
+
+Third, due consideration must be given to productivity of labour, whose influence on the rate of 
+surplus-value has been thoroughly discussed in Book I (Abschnitt IV). [English edition: Part IV. - Ed.] 
+Productivity of labour may also exert a direct influence on the rate of profit, at least of an individual 
+capital, if, as has been demonstrated in Book I (Kap. X, S. 323/324 [=MEW 23, S.335/336]) [English 
+edition: Ch. XII, pp. 316-17. - Ed.] this individual capital operates with a higher than the average social 
+productivity and produces commodities at a lower value than their average social value, thereby realising 
+an extra profit. However, this case will not be considered for the present, since in this part of the work we 
+also proceed from the premise that commodities are produced under normal social conditions and are 
+sold at their values. Hence, we assume in each case that the productivity of labour remains constant. In 
+effect, the value-composition of a capital invested in a branch of industry, that is, a certain proportion 
+between the variable and constant capital, always expresses a definite degree of labour productivity. As 
+soon, therefore, as this proportion is altered by means other than a mere change in the value of the 
+material elements of the constant capital, or a change in wages, the productivity of labour must likewise 
+undergo a corresponding change, and we shall often enough see, for this reason, that changes in the 
+factors c, v, and s also imply changes in the productivity of labour. 
+
+The same applies to the three remaining factors the length of the working-day, intensity of labour, and 
+wages. Their influence on the quantity and rate of surplus-value has been exhaustively discussed in Book 
+I [English edition: Vol. 1, pp. 519-30. - Ed.] It will be understood, therefore, that notwithstanding the 
+assumption, which we make for the sake of simplicity, that these three factors remain constant, the 
+changes that occur in v and s may nevertheless imply changes in the magnitude of these, their 
+determining elements. In this respect we must briefly recall that the wage influences the quantity of 
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 3 
+
+surplus-value and the rate of surplus-value in inverse proportion to the length of the working-day and the 
+intensity of labour; that an increase in wages reduces the surplus-value, while a lengthening of the 
+working-day and an increase in the intensity of labour add to it. 
+
+Suppose a capital of 100 produces a surplus- value of 20 employing 20 labourers working a 10-hour day 
+for a total weekly wage of 20. Then we have: 
+
+80c+20v+20s; s'=100%, p'=20%. 
+
+Now the working-day is lengthened to 15 hours without raising the wages. The total value produced by 
+the 20 labourers will thereby increase from 40 to 60 (10 : 15=40 : 60). Since v, the wages paid to the 
+labourers, remains the same, the surplus-value rises from 20 to 40, and we have: 
+
+80c+20v+40s; s'=200%, p'=40%. 
+
+If, conversely, the ten-hour working-day remains unchanged, while wages fall from 20 to 12, the total 
+value-product amounts to 40 as before, but is differently distributed; v falls to 12, leaving a remainder of 
+28 for s. Then we have: 
+
+80c+20v+28s; s'=233i/3%, p'=28:92=30io/23%. 
+
+Hence, we see that a prolonged working-day (or a corresponding increase in the intensity of labour) and a 
+fall in wages both increase the amount, and thus the rate, of surplus-value. Conversely, a rise in wages, 
+other things being equal, would lower the rate of surplus-value. Hence, if v rises through a rise in wages, 
+it does not express a greater, but only a dearer quantity of labour, in which case s' and p' do not rise, but 
+fall. 
+
+This indicates that changes in the working-day, intensity of labour and wages cannot take place without a 
+simultaneous change in v and s and their ratio, and therefore also p', which is the ratio of s to the total 
+capital c+v. And it is also evident that changes in the ratio of s to v also imply corresponding changes iii 
+at least one of the three above-mentioned labour conditions. 
+
+Precisely this reveals the specific organic relationship of variable capital to the movement of the total 
+capital and to its self-expansion, and also its difference from constant capital. So far as generation of 
+value is concerned, the constant capital is important only for the value it has. And it is immaterial to the 
+generation of value whether a constant capital of £ 1,500 represents 1,500 tons of iron at, say, 
+£l, or 500 tons of iron at £3. The quantity of actual material, in which the value of the 
+constant capital is incorporated, is altogether irrelevant to the formation of value and the rate of profit, 
+which varies inversely to this value no matter what the ratio of the increase or decrease of the value of 
+constant capital to the mass of material use-value which it represents. 
+
+It is different with variable capital. It is not the value it has, not the labour incorporated in it, that matter 
+at this point, but this value as a mere index of the total labour that it sets in motion and which is not 
+expressed in it - the total labour, whose difference from the labour expressed in that value, hence the paid 
+labour, i.e., that portion of the total labour which produces surplus-value, is all the greater, the less labour 
+is contained in that value itself. Suppose, a ten-hour working-day is equal to ten shillings=ten marks. If 
+the labour necessary to replace the wages, and thus the variable capital=5 hours=5 shillings, then the 
+surplus-labour=5 hours and the surplus-value=5 shillings. Should the necessary labour=4 hours=4 
+shillings, then the surplus-labour = 6 hours and the surplus-value=6 shillings. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 3 
+
+Hence, as soon as the value of the variable capital ceases to be an index of the quantity of labour set in 
+motion by it, and, moreover, the measure of this index is altered, the rate of surplus-value will change in 
+the opposite direction and inversely. 
+
+Let us now go on to apply the above-mentioned equation of the rate of profit, p' =s' v/C , to the various 
+possible cases. We shall successively change the value of the individual factors of s' v/C and determine 
+the effect of these changes on the rate of profit. In this way we shall obtain different series of cases, 
+which we may regard either as successive altered conditions of operation for one and the same capital, or 
+as different capitals existing side by side and introduced for the sake of comparison, taken, as it were, 
+from different branches of industry or different countries. In cases, therefore, where the conception of 
+some of our examples as successive conditions for one and the same capital appears to be forced or 
+impracticable, this objection falls away the moment they are regarded as comparisons of independent 
+capitals. 
+
+Hence, we now separate the product s'v/C into its two factors s' and v/C. At first we shall treat s' as 
+constant and analyse the effect of the possible variations of v/C. After that we shall treat the fraction v/C 
+as constant and let s' pass through its possible variations. Finally we shall treat all factors as variable 
+magnitudes and thereby exhaust all the cases from which laws concerning the rate of profit may be 
+derived. 
+
+I. c' constant, v/C variable 
+
+This case, which embraces a number of subordinate cases, may be covered by a general formula. Take 
+two capitals, C and Ci, with their respective variable components, v and vi, with a common rate of 
+surplus-value, s', and rates of profit p' and pi'. Then: 
+
+v vi 
+
+p'=s' — pi'=s' — 
+
+C Ci 
+
+Now let us make a proportion of C and Ci, and of v and vi. For instance, let the value of the fraction 
+Ci/C=E, and that of vi/v=e. Then Ci=EC, and vi=ev. Substituting in the above equation these values for 
+pi, Ci and vi, we obtain 
+
+ev 
+
+pi'=s' — 
+
+EC 
+
+Again, we may derive a second formula from the above two equations by transforming them into the 
+proportion: 
+
+V vl V VI 
+
+C Cl C Ci 
+
+Since the value of a fraction is not changed if we multiply or divide its numerator and denominator by 
+the same number, we may reduce v/C and vi/Ci to percentages, that is, we may make C and Ci both = 
+100. Then we have v/C=v/100 and vi/Ci = vi/100, and may then drop the denominators in the above 
+proportion, obtaining: 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 3 
+
+p':pi -v:vi', or: 
+
+Taking any two capitals operating with the same rate of surplus-value, the rates of profit are to each other 
+as the variable portions of the capitals calculated as percentages of their respective total capitals. 
+
+These two formulas embrace all the possible variations of v/C. 
+
+One more remark before we analyse these various cases singly. Since C is the sum of c and v, of the 
+constant and variable capitals, and since the rates of surplus-value, as of profit, are usually expressed in 
+percentages, it is convenient to assume that the sum of c+v is also equal to 100, i.e., to express c and v in 
+percentages. For the determination of the rate of profit, if not of the amount, it is immaterial whether we 
+say that a capital of 15,000, of which 12,000 is constant and 3,000 is variable, produces a surplus- value 
+of 3,000, or whether we reduce this capital to percentages: 
+
+15,000 C=12,000c+3,000v (+3,000s) 
+
+100 C=80c+20v (+20s). 
+
+In either case the rate of surplus-value s -100%, and the rate of profit=20%. 
+
+The same is true when we compare two capitals, say, the foregoing capital with another, such as 
+
+12,000 C=10,800c+l,200v (+l,200s) 
+
+100C=90c+10v(+10s). 
+
+in both of which s -100%, p -10%, and in which the comparison with the foregoing capital is clearer in 
+percentage form. 
+
+On the other hand, if it is a matter of changes taking place in one and the same capital, the form of 
+percentages is rarely to be used, because it almost always obscures these changes. If a capital expressed 
+in the form of percentages: 
+
+80c+20v+20s 
+
+assumes the form of percentages: 
+
+90c+10v+10s, 
+
+we cannot tell whether the changed composition in percentages, 90v+10c, is due to an absolute decrease 
+of v or an absolute increase of c, or to both. We would need the absolute magnitudes in figures to 
+ascertain this. In the analysis of the following individual cases of variation, however, everything depends 
+on how these changes have come about; whether 80v+20c changed into 90c+10v through an increase of 
+the constant capital without any change in the variable capital, for instance through 12,000c+3,000v 
+changing into 27,000c+3,000v (corresponding to a percentage of 90c+10v); or whether they took this 
+form through a reduction of the variable capital, with the constant capital remaining unchanged, that is, 
+through a change into 12,000c+l,333i/3v (also corresponding to a percentage of 90c+10v); or, lastly, 
+whether both of the terms changed into 13,500c+l,500v (corresponding once more to a percentage of 
+90c+10v). But it is precisely these cases which we shall have to successively analyse, and in so doing 
+dispense with the convenient form of percentages, or at least employ these only as a secondary 
+alternative. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 3 
+
+1) s' and C constant, v variable. 
+
+If v changes in magnitude, C can remain unaltered only if c, the other component of C, that is, the 
+constant capital, changes by the same amount as v, but in the opposite direction. 
+
+If C originally =80c+20v=100, and if v is then reduced to 10, then C can =100 only if c is increased to 
+90; 90c+10v=100. Generally speaking, if v is transformed into v ± d, into v increased or 
+decreased by d, then c must be transformed into c +¯ d, into c varying by the same amount, but in 
+the opposite direction, so that the conditions of the present case are satisfied. 
+
+Similarly, if the rate of surplus-value s' remains the same, while the variable capital v changes, the 
+amount of surplus-value s must change, since s=s'v, and since one of the factors of s'v, namely v, is given 
+another value. 
+
+The assumptions of the present case produce, alongside the original equation, 
+
+v 
+p'=s' - , 
+
+
+
+C 
+
+
+
+still another equation through the variation of v: 
+
+VI 
+
+p'=s' - , 
+C 
+
+
+
+in which v has become vi and pi', the resultant changed rate of profit, is to be found. 
+It is determined by the following proportion: 
+
+
+
+v vl 
+
+
+
+p :pi=s — :s — = v : vi 
+C C 
+
+Or: with the rate of surplus-value and total capital remaining the same, the original rate of profit is to the 
+new rate of profit produced by a change in the variable capital as the original variable capital is to the 
+changed variable capital. 
+
+If the original capital was, as above: 
+
+I. 15,000 C=12,000c+3,000v (+3,000s), and if it is now: 
+
+II. 15,000 C=13,000c+2,000v (+2,000s), then C=15,000 and s'=100% in either case, and the rate of profit 
+of I, 20%, is to that of II, 13i/3%, as the variable capital of I, 3,000, is to that of II, 2,000, i. e., 20 %: 131/3 
+%=3,000:2,000. 
+
+Now, the variable capital may either rise or fall. Let us first take an example in which it rises. Let a 
+certain capital be originally constituted and employed as follows: 
+
+I. 100c+20v+10s; C=120, s'=50%, p'=8i/3%. 
+
+Now let the variable capital rise to 30. In that case, according to our assumption, the constant capital 
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 3 
+
+must fall from 100 to 90 so that total capital remains unchanged at 120. The rate of surplus- value 
+remaining constant at 50%, the surplus- value produced will then rise from 10 to 15. We shall then have: 
+
+II. 90c+30v+15s; C=120, s'=50%, p'=12 1/2%. 
+
+Let us first proceed from the assumption that wages remain unchanged. Then the other factors of the rate 
+of surplus-value, i.e., the working-day and the intensity of labour, must also remain unchanged. In that 
+event the rise of v (from 20 to 30) can signify only that another half as many labourers are employed. 
+Then the total value produced also rises one-half, from 30 to 45, and is distributed, just as before, 2/3 for 
+wages and 1/3 for surplus-value. But at the same time, with the increase in the number of labourers, the 
+constant capital, the value of the means of production, has fallen from 100 to 90. We have, then, a case of 
+decreasing productivity of labour combined with a simultaneous shrinkage of constant capital. Is such a 
+case economically possible? 
+
+In agriculture and the extractive industries, in which a decrease in labour productivity and, therefore, an 
+increase in the number of employed labourers is quite comprehensible, this process is on the basis and 
+within the scope of capitalist production attended by an increase, instead of a decrease, of constant 
+capital. Even if the above fall of c were due merely to a fall in prices, an individual capital would be able 
+to accomplish the transition from I to II only under very exceptional circumstances. But in the case of 
+two independent capitals invested in different countries, or in different branches of agriculture or 
+extractive industry, it would be nothing out of the ordinary if in one of the cases more labourers (and 
+therefore more variable capital) were employed and worked with less valuable or scantier means of 
+production than in the other case. 
+
+But let us drop the assumption that the wage remains the same, and let us explain the rise of the variable 
+capital from 20 to 30 through a rise of wages by one-half. Then we shall have an entirely different case. 
+The same number of labourers - say, twenty - continue to work with the same or only slightly reduced 
+means of production. If the working-day remains unchanged - say, 10 hours - then the total value 
+produced also remains unchanged. It was and remains=30. But all of this 30 is now required to make 
+good the advanced variable capital of 30; the surplus-value would disappear. We have assumed, 
+however, that the rate of surplus-value should remain constant, that is, the same as in I, at 50%. This is 
+possible only if the working-day is prolonged by one-half to 15 hours. Then the 20 labourers would 
+produce a total value of 45 in 15 hours, and all conditions would be satisfied: 
+
+II. 90c+30v+15s; C=120, s'=50%, p'=12 1/2%. 
+
+In this case, the 20 labourers do not require any more means of labour, tools, machines, etc., than in case 
+
+I. Only the raw materials or auxiliary materials would have to be increased by one-half. In the event of a 
+fall in the prices of these materials, the transition from I to II might be more possible economically, even 
+for an individual capital in keeping with our assumption. And the capitalist would be somewhat 
+compensated by increased profits for any loss incurred through the depreciation of his constant capital. 
+
+Now let us assume that the variable capital falls, instead of rising. Then we have but to reverse our 
+example, taking II as the original capital, and passing from II to I. 
+
+II. 90c+30v+15s, then changes into 
+
+I. 100c+20v+10s, and it is evident that this transposition does not in the least alter any of the conditions 
+regulating the respective rates of profit and their mutual relation. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 3 
+
+If v falls from 30 to 20 because 1/3 fewer labourers are employed with the growing constant capital, then 
+we have before us the normal case of modern industry, namely, an increasing productivity of labour, and 
+the operation of a larger quantity of means of production by fewer labourers. That this movement is 
+necessarily connected with a simultaneous drop in the rate of profit will be developed in the third part of 
+this book. 
+
+If, on the other hand, v falls from 30 to 20, because the same number of labourers is employed at lower 
+wages, the total value produced would, with the working-day unchanged, as before=30v+15s=45. Since v 
+fell to 20, the surplus-value would rise to 25, the rate of surplus-value from 50% to 125%, which would 
+be contrary to our assumption. To comply with the conditions of our case, the surplus-value, with its rate 
+at 50%, must rather fall to 10, and the total value produced must, therefore, fall from 45 to 30, and this is 
+possible only if the working-day is reduced by one-third. Then, as before, we have: 
+
+100c+20v+10s; s'=50%, p'=8i/3%. 
+
+It need hardly be said that this reduction of the working-time, in the case of a fall in wages, would not 
+occur in practice. But that is immaterial. The rate of profit is a function of several variable magnitudes, 
+and if we wish to know how these variables influence the rate of profit, we must analyse the individual 
+effect of each in turn, regardless of whether such an isolated effect is economically practicable with one 
+and the same capital. 
+
+2) s' constant, v variable, C changes through the variation of v. 
+
+This case differs from the preceding one only in degree. Instead of decreasing or increasing by as much 
+as v increases or decreases, c, remains constant. Under present-day conditions in the major industries and 
+agriculture the variable capital is only a relatively small part of the total capital. For this reason, its 
+increase or decrease, so far as either is due to changes in the variable capital, are likewise relatively 
+small. 
+
+Let us again proceed with a capital: 
+
+I. 100c+20v+10s; C=120, s'=50%, p'=8i/3%. 
+
+which would then change, say, into: 
+
+II. 100c+30v+15s; C=130, s'=50%, p'=ll 7 /i3%. 
+
+The opposite case, in which the variable capital decreases, would again be illustrated by the reverse 
+transition from II to I. 
+
+The economic conditions would be essentially the same as in the preceding case, and therefore they need 
+not be discussed again. The transition from I to II implies a decrease in the productivity of labour by 
+one-half; for II the utilisation of 100, requires an increase of labour by one-half over that of I. This case 
+may occur in agriculture. [91 
+
+But while the total capital remains constant in the preceding case, owing to the conversion of constant 
+into variable capital, or vice versa, there is in this case a tie-up of additional capital if the variable capital 
+increases, and a release of previously employed capital if the variable capital decreases. 
+
+3) s' and v constant, c and therefore C variable. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 3 
+
+In this case the equation changes from: 
+
+v vl 
+
+p -s' — into p -s' — , 
+C Cl 
+
+and after reducing the same factors on both sides, we have: 
+
+pi':p' = C:Ci; 
+
+with the same rate of surplus-value and equal variable capitals, the rates of profit are inversely 
+proportional to the total capitals. 
+
+Should we, for example, have three capitals, or three different conditions of the same capital: 
+
+I. 80c+20v+20s; C=100, s'=100%, p'=20%; 
+II. 100c+20v+20s; C=120, s'=100%, p'=16 2 / 3 %; 
+
+III. 60c+20v+20s; C=80, s'=100%, p'=25%. 
+Then we obtain the proportions: 
+
+20%:16 2 /3%=120:100 and 20%:25%=80:100. 
+
+The previously given general formula for variations of v/C with a constant s' was: 
+
+ev v 
+
+Pi-s' — ; now it becomes: Pi'=s' — , 
+EC EC 
+
+since v does not change, the factor e=vi/v , becomes=l. 
+
+Since s'v=s, the quantity of surplus-value, and since both s' and v remain constant, it follows that s, too, is 
+not affected by any variation of C. The amount of surplus-value is the same after the change as it was 
+before it. 
+
+If c were to fall to zero, p' would=s', i.e., the rate of profit would equal the rate of surplus-value. 
+
+The alteration of c may be due either to a mere change in the value of the material elements of constant 
+capital, or to a change in the technical composition of the total capital, that is, a change in the 
+productivity of labour in the given branch of industry. In the latter case, the productivity of social labour 
+mounting due to the development of modern industry and large-scale agriculture would bring about a 
+transition (in the above illustration) in the sequence from III to I and from I to II. A quantity of labour 
+which is paid with 20 and produces a value of 40 would first utilise means of labour to a value of 60; if 
+productivity mounted and the value remained the same, the used up means of labour would rise first to 
+80, and then to 100. An inversion of this sequence would imply a decrease in productivity. The same 
+quantity of labour would put a smaller quantity of means of production into motion and the operation 
+would be curtailed, as may occur in agriculture, mining, etc. 
+
+A saving in constant capital increases the rate of profit on the one hand, and, on the other, sets free 
+capital, for which reason it is of importance to the capitalist. We shall make a closer study of this, and 
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 3 
+
+likewise of the influence of a change in the prices of the elements of constant capital, particularly of raw 
+materials, at a later point. [Present edition: Ch. V, VI. - Ed.] 
+
+It is again evident here that a variation of the constant capital equally affects the rate of profit, regardless 
+of whether this variation is due to an increase or decrease of the material elements of c, or merely to a 
+change in their value. 
+
+4) s' constant, v, c and C all variable. 
+
+In this case, the general formula for the changed rate of profit, given at the outset, remains in force: 
+
+v 
+Pi'=s' — . 
+EC 
+
+It follows from this that with the rate of surplus-value remaining the same: 
+
+a) The rate of profit falls if E is greater than e, that is, if the constant capital is augmented to such an 
+extent that the total capital grows at a faster rate than the variable capital. If a capital of 80c+20v+20s 
+changes into 170c+30v+30s, then s' remains=100%, but v/C falls from 20/100 to 30/100, in spite of the 
+fact that both v and C have grown, and the rate of profit falls correspondingly from 20% to 15%. 
+
+b) The rate of profit remains unchanged only if e=E, that is, if the fraction v/C retains the same value in 
+spite of a seeming change, i.e., if its numerator and denominator are multiplied or divided by the same 
+factor. The capitals 80c+20v+20s and 160c+40v+40s obviously have the same rate of profit of 20%, 
+because s' remains=100% and v/C=20/ 100=40/200 represents the same value in both examples. 
+
+c) The rate of profit rises when e is greater than E, that is, when the variable capital grows at a faster rate 
+than the total capital. If 80c+20v+20s turns into 120c+40v+40s, the rate of profit rises from 20% to 25%, 
+because with an unchanged s' v/C=20/100 rises to 40/160, or from 1/5 to 1/4. 
+
+If the changes of v and C are in the same direction, we may view this change of magnitude as though, to 
+a certain extent, both of them varied in the same proportion, so that v/C remained unchanged up to that 
+point. Beyond this point, only one of them would vary, and we shall have thereby reduced this 
+complicated case to one of the preceding simpler ones. 
+
+Should, for instance, 80c+20v+20s become 100c+30v+30s, then the proportion of v to c, and also to C, 
+remains the same in this variation up to: 100c+25v+25s. Up to that point, therefore, the rate of profit 
+likewise remains unchanged. We may then take 100c+25v+25s as our point of departure; we find that v 
+increased by 5 to become 30v, so that C rose from 125 to 130, thus giving us the second case, that of the 
+simple variation of v and the consequent variation of C. The rate of profit, which was originally 20%, 
+rises through this addition of 5v to 231/13%, provided the rate of surplus-value remains the same. 
+
+The same reduction to a simpler case can also take place if v and C change their magnitudes in opposite 
+directions. For instance, let us again start with 80c+20v+20s, and let this become: 1 IOc+IOv+IOs. In that 
+case, with the change going as far as 40c+10v+10s, the rate of profit would remain the same 20%. By 
+adding 70c to this intermediate form, it will drop to 81/3%. Thus, we have again reduced the case to an 
+instance of change of one variable, namely of c. 
+
+Simultaneous variation of v, c, and C, does not, therefore, offer any new aspects and in the final analysis 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 3 
+
+leads back to a case in which only one factor is a variable. 
+
+Even the sole remaining case has actually been exhausted, namely that in which v and C remain 
+numerically the same, while their material elements undergo a change of value, so that v stands for a 
+changed quantity of labour put in motion and c for a changed quantity of means of production put in 
+motion. 
+
+In 80c+20v+20s, let 20v originally represent the wages of 20 labourers working 10 hours daily. Then let 
+the wages of each rise from 1 to 1 1/4. In that case the 20v will pay only 16 labourers instead of 20. But if 
+20 labourers produce a value of 40 in 200 working-hours, 16 labourers working 10 hours daily will in 
+160 working-hours produce a value of only 32. After deducting 20, for wages, only 12 of the 32 would 
+then remain for surplus-value. The rate of surplus-value would have fallen from 100% to 60%. But since 
+we have assumed the rate of surplus-value to be constant, the working-day would have to be prolonged 
+by one-quarter, from 10 to 12 1/2 hours. If 20 labourers working 10 hours daily =200 working-hours 
+produce a value of 40, then 16 labourers working 12 1/2 hours daily =200 hours will produce the same 
+value, and the capital of 80c+20v would as before yield the same surplus-value of 20. 
+
+Conversely, if wages were to fall to such an extent that 20v would represent the wages of 30 labourers, 
+then s would remain constant only if the working-day were reduced from 10 to 6 2/3 hours. For 20x10=30 
+× 6 2/3=200 working-hours. 
+
+We have already in the main discussed to what extent c may in these divergent examples remain 
+unchanged in terms of value expressed in money and yet represent different quantities of means of 
+production changed in accordance with changing conditions. In its pure form this case would be possible 
+only by way of an exception. 
+
+As for a change in the value of the elements of c which increases or decreases their mass but leaves the 
+sum of the value of c unchanged, it does not affect either the rate of profit or the rate of surplus-value, so 
+long as it does not lead to a change in the magnitude of v. 
+
+We have herewith exhausted all the possible cases of variation of v, c, and C in our equation. We have 
+seen that the rate of profit may fall, remain unchanged, or rise, while the rate of surplus-value remains 
+the same, with the least change in the proportion of v to c or to C, being sufficient to change the rate of 
+profit as well. 
+
+We have seen, furthermore, that in variations of v there is a certain limit everywhere beyond which it is 
+economically impossible for s' to remain constant. Since every one-sided variation of c must also reach a 
+certain limit where v can no longer remain unchanged, we find that there are limits for every possible 
+variation of v/C, beyond which s' must likewise become variable. In the variations of s' which we shall 
+now discuss, this interaction of the different variables of our equation will stand out still clearer. 
+
+II. s' variable 
+
+We obtain a general formula for the rates of profit with different rates of surplus-value, no matter 
+whether v/C remains constant or not, by converting the equation: 
+
+v 
+p'=s' — 
+C 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 3 
+
+into 
+
+VI 
+
+pi'=si' — , 
+Ci 
+
+in which pi', si', vi and Ci denote the changed values of p', s', v and C. Then we have: 
+v vl 
+
+
+
+p :pi=s — : si — , 
+C Cl 
+
+
+
+
+and hence: 
+
+
+si' vi C 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+pi'= X — x — xp'. 
+
+si v Cl 
+
+
+
+
+1) s' variable, v/C constant. 
+
+
+In this case we have the 
+
+
+equations: 
+
+
+
+
+V V 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+p'=s' — ; pi'=s' — , 
+C C 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+in both of which v/C is equal. Therefore: 
+
+p':pi'=s':si' 
+
+
+
+„'.«. . i ^'.^ . ' 
+
+
+
+The rates of profit of two capitals of the same composition are to each other as the two corresponding 
+rates of surplus-value. Since in the fraction v/C it is not a question of the absolute magnitudes of v and C, 
+but only of their ratio, this applies to all capitals of equal composition whatever their absolute magnitude. 
+
+80c+20v+20s; C=100, s'=100%, p'=20% 
+
+160c+40v+20s; C=200, s'=50%, p'=10% 
+
+100%:50%=20%:10%. 
+
+If the absolute magnitudes of v and C are the same in both cases, the rates of profit are moreover also 
+related to one another as the amounts of surplus-value: 
+
+p':pi'=s'v:si'v=s:sl. 
+
+For instance: 
+
+80c+20v+20s; s'=100%, p'=20% 
+
+80c+20v+10s; s'=50%, p'=10% 
+
+20% : 10%=100 × 20 : 50 × 20=20s : 10s. 
+
+It is now clear that with capitals of equal absolute or percentage composition the rate of surplus-value 
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 3 
+
+can differ only if either the wages, or the length of the working-day, or the intensity of labour, differ. In 
+the following three cases: 
+
+I. 80c+20v+10s; s'=50%, p'=10% 
+
+II. 80c+20v+20s; s'=100%, p'=20% 
+
+III. 80c+20v+40s; s'=200%, p'=40% 
+
+the total value produced in I is 30 (20v+10s); in II it is 40; in III it is 60. This may come about in three 
+different ways. 
+
+First, if the wages are different, and 20v stands for a different number of labourers in every individual 
+case. Suppose capital I employs 15 labourers 10 hours daily at a wage of £ll/3, who produce a 
+value of £30, of which £20 replace the wages and £10 are surplus-value. If wages 
+fall to £l, then 20 labourers may be employed for 10 hours; they will produce a value of 
+£40, of which £20 will replace the wages and £20 will be surplus-value. Should 
+wages fall still more, to £2/3, thirty labourers may be employed for 10 hours. They will produce a 
+value of £60, of which £20 will be deducted for wages and £40 will represent 
+surplus-value. 
+
+This case - a constant composition of capital in per cent, a constant working-day and constant intensity of 
+labour, and the rate of surplus-value varying because of variation in wages - is the only one in which 
+Ricardo's assumption is correct: "Profit would be high or low, exactly in proportion as wages were low 
+or high." {Principles, Ch. I, Sect. Ill, p. 18 of the Works of D. Ricardo, ed. by MacCulloch, 1852.) 
+
+Or second, if the intensity of labour varies. In that case, say, 20 labourers working 10 hours daily with 
+the same means of production produce 30 pieces of a certain commodity in I, 40 in II, and 60 in III, of 
+which every piece, aside from the value of the means of production incorporated in it, represents a new 
+value of £l. Since every 20 pieces=£20 make good the wages, there remain 10 
+pieces=£10 for surplus-value in I, 20 pieces=£20 in II, and 40 pieces=£40 in III. 
+
+Or third, the working-day differs in length. If 20 labourers work with the same intensity for 9 hours in I, 
+12 hours in II, and 18 hours in III, their total products, 30 : 40 : 60 vary as 9 : 12 : 18. And since 
+wages=20 in every case, 10, 20, and 40 respectively again remain as surplus-value. 
+
+A rise or fall in wages, therefore, influences the rate of surplus-value inversely, and a rise or fall in the 
+intensity of labour, and a lengthening or shortening of the working-day, act the same way on the rate of 
+surplus-value and thereby, with v/C constant, on the rate of profit. 
+
+2) s ' and v variable, C constant. 
+
+The following proportion applies in this case: 
+
+v VI 
+
+p':pi' = s' — : s' — = s'v : sl'vi = s:si. 
+C C 
+
+The rates of profit are related to one another as the respective amounts of surplus-value. 
+
+Changes in the rate of surplus-value with the variable capital remaining constant meant a change in the 
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 3 
+
+magnitude and distribution of the produced value. A simultaneous variation of v and s' also always 
+implies a different distribution, but not always a change in the magnitude of the produced value. Three 
+cases are possible: 
+
+a) Variation of v and s' takes place in opposite directions, but by the same amount; for instance: 
+
+80c+20v+10s; s'=50%, p'=10% 
+
+90c+10v+20s; s'=200%, p'=20% 
+
+The produced value is equal in both cases, hence also the quantity of labour performed; 
+20v+10s=10v+20s = 30. The only difference is that in the first case 20 is paid out for wages and 10 
+remains as surplus- value, while in the second case wages are only 10 and surplus- value is therefore 20. 
+This is the only case in which the number of labourers, the intensity of labour, and the length of the 
+working-day remain unchanged, while v and s' vary simultaneously. 
+
+b) Variation of s' and v also takes place in opposite directions, but not by the same amount. In that case 
+the variation of either v or s' outweighs the other. 
+
+I. 80c+20v+20s; s'=100%, p'=20% 
+
+II. 72c+28v+20s; s'=7b/7%, p'=20% 
+
+III. 84c+16v+20s; s'=125%, p'=20%. 
+
+Capital I pays for produced value amounting to 40 with 20v, II a value of 48 with 28v, and III a value of 
+36 with 16v. Both the produced value and the wages have changed. But a change in the produced value 
+means a change in the amount of labour performed, hence a change either in the number of labourers, the 
+hours of labour, the intensity of labour, or in more than one of these. 
+
+c) Variation of s' and v takes place in the same direction. In that case the one intensifies the effect of the 
+other. 
+
+90c+10v+10s; s'=100%, p'=10% 
+
+80c+20v+30s; s'=150%, p'=30% 
+
+92c+8v +6s; s'=75%, p'=6%. 
+
+Here too the three values produced are different, namely 20, 50, and 14. And this difference in the 
+magnitude of the respective quantities of labour reduces itself once more to a difference in the number of 
+labourers, the hours of labour, and the intensity of labour, or several or all of these factors. 
+
+3) s', v and C variable. 
+
+This case offers no new aspects and is solved by the general formula given under II, in which s' is 
+variable. 
+
+
+
+The effect of a change in the magnitude, of the rate of surplus-value on the rate of profit hence yields the 
+following cases: 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 3 
+
+1) p' increases or decreases in the same proportion as s' if v/C remains constant. 
+
+80c+20v+20s; s'=100%, p'=20% 
+
+80c+20v+10s; s'=50%, p'=10% 
+
+100%:50%=20%:10%. 
+
+2) p' rises or falls at a faster rate than s' if v/C moves in the same direction as s', that is, if it increases or 
+decreases when s' increases or decreases. 
+
+80c+20v+10s; s'=50%, p'=10% 
+
+70c+30v+20s; s'=66 2 / 3 %, p'=10% 
+
+50%:66 2 /3% < 10%:20%. 
+
+3) p' rises or falls at a slower rate than s' if v/C changes inversely to s', but at a slower rate. 
+
+80c+20v+10s; s'=50%, p'=10% 
+
+90c+10v+15s; s'=150%, p'=15% 
+
+50%: 150% > 10%: 15%. 
+
+4) p' rises while s' falls, or falls while s' rises if v/C changes inversely to, and at, a faster rate than, s'. 
+
+80c+20v+20s; s'=100%, p'=20% 
+90c+10v+15s; s'=150%, p'=15%. 
+s' has risen from 100% to 150%, p' has fallen from 20% to 15%. 
+
+5) Finally, p' remains constant whereas s' rises or falls, while v/C changes inversely to, but in exactly the 
+same proportion as, s'. 
+
+It is only this last case which still requires some explanation. We have observed earlier in the variations 
+of v/C that one and the same rate of surplus-value may be expressed in very much different rates of 
+profit. Now we see that one and the same rate of profit may be based on very much different rates of 
+surplus-value. But while any change in the proportion of v to C is sufficient to produce a difference in the 
+rate of profit so long as s is constant, a change in the magnitude of s must lead to a corresponding inverse 
+change of v/C in order that the rate of profit remain the same. In the case of one and the same capital, or 
+in that of two capitals in one and the same country this is possible but in exceptional cases. Assume, for 
+example, that we have a capital of 
+
+80c+20v+20s; C=100, s'=100%, p'=20%; 
+
+and let us suppose that wages fall to such an extent that the same number of labourers is obtainable for 
+16v instead of 20v. Then, other things being equal, and 4v being released, we shall have: 
+
+80c+16v+24s; C=96, s'=150%, p'=25%. 
+
+In order that p' may now=20% as before, the total capital would have to increase to 120, the constant 
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 3 
+
+capital therefore rising to 104: 
+
+104c+16v+24s; C=120, s'=150%, p'=20%. 
+
+This would only be possible if the fall in wages were attended simultaneously by a change in the 
+productivity of labour which required such a change in the composition of capital. Or, if the value in 
+money of the constant capital increased from 80 to 104. In short, it would require an accidental 
+coincidence of conditions such as occurs in exceptional cases. In fact, a variation of s' that does not call 
+for the simultaneous variation of v, and thus of v/C, is conceivable only under very definite conditions, 
+namely in such branches of industry in which only fixed capital and labour are employed, while the 
+materials of labour are supplied by Nature. 
+
+But this is not so when the rates of profit of two different countries are compared. For in that case the 
+same rate of profit is, in effect, based largely on different rates of surplus-value. 
+
+It follows from all of these five cases, therefore, that a rising rate of profit may correspond to a falling or 
+rising rate of surplus-value, a falling rate of profit to a rising or falling rate of surplus-value, and a 
+constant rate of profit to a rising or falling rate of surplus-value. And we have seen in I that a rising, 
+falling, or constant rate of profit may also accord with a constant rate of surplus- value. 
+
+
+
+The rate of profit, therefore, depends on two main factors - the rate of surplus-value and the 
+value-composition of capital. The effects of these two factors may be briefly summed up as follows, by 
+giving the composition in per cent, for it is immaterial which of the two portions of the capital causes the 
+variation: 
+
+The rates of profit of two different capitals, or of one and the same capital in two successive different 
+conditions, 
+
+are equal 
+
+1) if the per cent composition of the capitals is the same and their rates of surplus-value are equal; 
+
+2) if their per cent composition is not the same, and the rates of surplus-value are unequal, provided the 
+products of the rates of surplus-value by the percentages of the variable portions of capitals (s' by v) are 
+the same, i.e., if the masses of surplus-value (s=s'v) calculated in per cent of the total capital are equal; in 
+other words, if the factors s' and v are inversely proportional to one another in both cases. 
+
+They are unequal 
+
+1) if the per cent composition is equal and the rates of surplus-value are unequal, in which case they are 
+related as the rates of surplus-value; 
+
+2) if the rates of surplus-value are the same and the per cent composition is unequal, in which case they 
+are related as the variable portions of the capitals; 
+
+3) if the rates of surplus-value are unequal and the per cent composition not the same, in which case they 
+are related as the products s'v, i.e., as the quantities of surplus-value calculated in per cent of the total 
+capital. [10] 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 3 
+
+FOOTNOTES 
+
+[91 The manuscript has the following note at this point: "Investigate later in what manner this case is 
+connected with ground-rent. " F. E. 
+
+f 101 The manuscript contains also very detailed calculations of the difference between the rate of 
+surplus-value and the rate of profit (s'-p'), which has very interesting peculiarities, and whose movement 
+indicates where the two rates draw apart or approach one another. These movements may also be 
+represented by curves. I am not reproducing this material, because it is of less importance to the 
+immediate purposes of this work, and because it is enough here to call attention to this fact for readers 
+who wish to pursue this point further. - F.E. 
+
+
+
+Transcribed for the Internet by Hinrich Kuhls 
+
+Next: Chapter 4 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch03.htm (17 of 17) [23/08/2000 16:00:41] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 4 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Parti 
+
+THE CONVERSION OF SURPLUS-VALUE INTO PROFIT AND OF THE RATE OF 
+
+SURPLUS-VALUE INTO THE RATE OF PROFIT 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 4 
+
+
+
+The Effect of the Turnover on the Rate of Profit 
+
+
+
+[The effect of the turnover on the production of surplus-value, and consequently of profit, has been 
+discussed in Book II. Briefly summarised it signifies that owing to the time span required for turnover, 
+not all the capital can be employed all at once in production; some of the capital always lies idle, either in 
+the form of money-capital, of raw material supplies, of finished but still unsold commodity-capital, or of 
+outstanding claims; that the capital in active production, i.e., in the production and appropriation of 
+surplus-value, is always short by this amount, and that the produced and appropriated surplus-value is 
+always curtailed to the same extent. The shorter the period of turnover, the smaller this idle portion of 
+capital as compared with the whole, and the larger, therefore, the appropriated surplus-value, provided 
+other conditions remain the same. 
+
+It has already been shown in detail in Book II [English edition: Vol. II, pp. 293-98. - Ed.] how the 
+quantity of produced surplus-value is augmented by reductions in the period of turnover, or of one of its 
+two sections, in the time of production and the time of circulation. But since the rate of profit only 
+expresses the relation of the produced quantity of surplus-value to the total capital employed in its 
+production, it is evident that any such reduction increases the rate of profit. Whatever has been said 
+earlier in Part II of Book II in regard to surplus-value, applies equally to profit and the rate of profit and 
+needs no repetition here. We wish only to stress a few of the principal points. 
+
+The chief means of reducing the time of production is higher labour productivity, which is commonly 
+called industrial progress. If this does not involve a simultaneous considerable increase in the outlay of 
+total capital resulting from the installation of expensive machinery, etc., and thus a reduction of the rate 
+of profit, which is calculated on the total capital, this rate must rise. And this is decidedly true in the case 
+of many of the latest improvements in metallurgy and in the chemical industry. The recently discovered 
+methods of producing iron and steel, such as the processes of Bessemer, Siemens, Gilchrist-Thomas, etc., 
+cut to a minimum at relatively small costs the formerly arduous processes. The making of alizarin, a red 
+dye-stuff extracted from coal-tar, requires but a few weeks, and this by means of already existing coal-tar 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 4 
+
+dye-producing installations, to yield the same results which formerly required years. It took a year for the 
+madder to mature, and it was customary to let the roots grow a few years more before they were 
+processed. 
+
+The chief means of reducing the time of circulation is improved communications. The last fifty years 
+have brought about a revolution in this field, comparable only with the industrial revolution of the latter 
+half of the 18th century. On land the macadamised road has been displaced by the railway, on sea the 
+slow and irregular sailing vessel has been pushed into the background by the rapid and dependable 
+steamboat line, and the entire globe is being girdled by telegraph wires. The Suez Canal has fully opened 
+East Asia and Australia to steamer traffic. The time of circulation of a shipment of commodities to East 
+Asia, at least twelve months in 1847 (cf. Buch II, S. 235 [English edition: Karl Marx, Capital, Vol. II, pp. 
+251-52. - Ed.]), has now been reduced to almost as many weeks. The two large centres of the crises of 
+1825-57, America and India, have been brought from 70 to 90 per cent nearer to the European industrial 
+countries by this revolution in transport, and have thereby lost a good deal of their explosive nature. The 
+period of turnover of the total world commerce has been reduced to the same extent, and the efficacy of 
+the capital involved in it has been more than doubled or trebled. It goes without saying that this has not 
+been without effect on the rate of profit. 
+
+To single out the effect of the turnover of total capital on the rate of profit we must assume all other 
+conditions of the capitals to be compared as equal. Aside from the rate of surplus-value and the 
+working-day it is also notably the per cent composition which we must assume to be the same. Now let 
+us take a capital A composed of 80c+20v=100 C, which makes two turnovers yearly at a rate of 
+surplus-value of 100%. The annual product is then: 
+
+160c+40v+40s. However, to determine the rate of profit we do not calculate the 40s on the turned-over 
+capital-value of 200, but on the advanced capital of 100, and thus obtain p'=40%. 
+
+Now let us compare this with a capital B=160c+40v=200 C, which has the same rate of surplus-value of 
+100%, but which is turned over only once a year. The annual product of this capital is, therefore, the 
+same as that of A: 
+
+160c+40v+40s. But this time the 40s are to be calculated on an advance of capital amounting to 200, 
+which yields a rate of profit of only 20%, or one-half that of A. 
+
+We find, then, that for capitals with an equal per cent composition, with equal rates of surplus-value and 
+equal working-days, the rates of profit of the two capitals are related inversely as their periods of 
+turnover. If either the composition, the rates of surplus-value, the working-day, or the wages, are unequal 
+in the two compared cases, this would naturally produce further differences in the rates of profit; but 
+these are independent of the turnover and, for this reason, do not concern us at this point. They have 
+already been discussed in Chapter III. 
+
+The direct effect of a reduced period of turnover on the production of surplus-value, and consequently of 
+profit, consists of an increased efficiency imparted thereby to the variable portion of capital, as shown in 
+Book II, Chapter XVI, "The Turnover of Variable Capital". This chapter demonstrated that a variable 
+capital of 500 turned over ten times a year produces as much surplus-value in this time as a variable 
+capital of 5,000 with the same rate of surplus-value and the same wages, turned over just once a year. 
+
+Take capital I, consisting of 10,000 fixed capital whose annual depreciation is 10%=1,000, of 500 
+circulating constant and 500 variable capital. Let the variable capital turn over ten times per year at a 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 4 
+
+100% rate of surplus-value. For the sake of simplicity we assume in all the following examples that the 
+circulating constant capital is turned over in the same time as the variable, which is generally the case in 
+practice. Then the product of one such period of turnover will be: 
+
+100c (depreciation) +500c+500v+500s= 1,600 
+
+and the product of one entire year, with ten such turnovers, will be 
+
+1,000c (depreciation) +5,OOOc+5,OOOv+5,OOOs= 16,000, 
+C=l 1,000, s=5,000, p'=5,000/l 1,000=45 5/n %. 
+
+Now let us take capital II: 9,000 fixed capital, 1,000 annual wear and tear, 1,000 circulating constant 
+capital, 1,000 variable capital, 100% rate of surplus-value, 5 turnovers of variable capital per year. Then 
+the product of each of the turnovers of the variable capital will be: 
+
+200c (depreciation) +l,000c+l,000v+l,000s=3,200, 
+
+and the total annual product after five turnovers: 
+
+1,000c (depreciation) +5,OOOc+5,OOOv+5,OOOs= 16,000, 
+C=l 1,000, s=5,000, p'=5,000/l 1,000=45 5/11 % 
+
+Further, take capital III with no fixed capital, 6,000 circulating constant capital and 5,000 variable 
+capital. Let there be one turnover per year at a 100% rate of surplus-value. Then the total annual product 
+
+is: 
+
+6,000c+5,000v+ 5,000s=16,000, 
+
+C=l 1,000, s=5,000, p'= 5,000/11,000=45 5/11 %. 
+
+In all the three cases we therefore have the same annual quantity of surplus-value = 5,000, and, since the 
+total capital is likewise equal in all three cases, namely = 1 1,000, also the same rate of profit of 45 5/11 %. 
+
+But should capital I have only 5 instead of 10 turnovers of its variable part per year, the result would be 
+different. The product of one turnover would then be: 
+
+200c (depreciation) +500c+500v+500s= 1,700. 
+
+And the annual product: 
+
+1,000c (depreciation) +2,500c+2,500v+2,500s=8,500, 
+C= 11,000, s=2,500; p'=2,500/l 1,000=22 8/11 %. 
+
+The rate of profit has fallen one-half, because the period of turnover has doubled. 
+
+The quantity of surplus-value appropriated in one year is therefore equal to the quantity of surplus-value 
+appropriated in one turnover of the variable capital multiplied by the number of such turnovers per year. 
+Suppose we call the surplus- value, or profit, appropriated in one year S, the surplus- value appropriated in 
+one period of turnover s. the number of turnovers of the variable capital in one year n, then S=sn, and the 
+annual rate of surplus-value S'=s'n, as already demonstrated in Book II, Chapter XVI, I. [English edition: 
+Vol. II, p. 305. - Ed.] 
+
+It goes without saying that the formula p'=s' (v/C)=s' v/(c+v) is correct only so long as the v in the 
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 4 
+
+numerator is the same as that in the denominator. In the denominator v stands for the entire portion of the 
+total capital used on an average as variable capital for the payment of wages. The v of the numerator is 
+primarily only determined by the fact that a certain quantity of surplus-value=s is produced and 
+appropriated by it, whose relation to it s/v, is m', the rate of surplus-value. It is only along these lines that 
+the formula p -s/(c+v) is transformed into the other: p'= s' v/(c+v). The v of the numerator will now be 
+more accurately determined by the fact that it must equal the v of the denominator, that is, the entire 
+variable portion of capital C. In other words, the equation p'=s/C may be correctly transformed into the 
+equation p'= s' v/(c+v) only if s stands for surplus-value produced in one turnover of the variable capital. 
+Should s be only a portion of this surplus-value, then s=s'v is still correct, but this v is then smaller than 
+the v in C=c+v, because it is smaller than the entire variable capital expended for wages. But should s 
+stand for more than the surplus-value of one turnover of v, then a portion of this v, or perhaps the whole 
+of it, serves twice, namely in the first and in the second turnover, and eventually in subsequent turnovers. 
+The v which produces the surplus-value and represents the sum of all paid wages, is therefore greater 
+than the v in c+v and the calculation falls into error. 
+
+To make the formula precise for the annual rate of profit, we must substitute the annual rate of 
+surplus-value for the simple rate of surplus-value, that is, substitute S' or s'n for s'. In other words, we 
+must multiply the rate of surplus-value s', or, what amounts to the same thing, the variable capital v 
+contained in C, by n, the number of turnovers of this variable capital in one year. Thus we obtain p'=s' n 
+v/C, which is the formula for the annual rate of profit. 
+
+The amount of variable capital invested in his business is something the capitalist himself does not know 
+in most cases. We have seen in Chapter VIII of Book II, and shall see further along, that the only 
+essential distinction within his capital which impresses itself upon the capitalist is that of fixed and 
+circulating capital. He takes money to pay wages from his cash-box containing the part of the circulating 
+capital he has on hand in the form of money, so far as it is not deposited in a bank; he takes money from 
+the same cash-box for raw and auxiliary materials, and credits both items to the same cash-account. And 
+even if he should keep a separate account for wages, at the close of the year this would only show the 
+sum paid out for this item, hence vn, but not the variable capital v itself. In order to ascertain this, he 
+would have to make a special calculation, of which we propose here to give an illustration. 
+
+For this purpose we select the cotton spinnery of 10,000 mule spindles described in Book I (S. 209/201) 
+[English edition: p. 219. - Ed.] and assume that the data given there for one week of April 1871, are in 
+force during the whole year. The fixed capital incorporated in the machinery was £10,000. The 
+circulating capital was not given. We assume it to have been £2,500. This is a rather high estimate, but 
+justified by the assumption, which we must always make here, that no credit operations were effected, 
+hence no permanent or temporary employment of other people's capital. The value of the weekly product 
+was composed of £20 for depreciation of machinery, £358 circulating constant advanced capital (rent £6; 
+cotton £342; coal, gas, oil, £10), £52 variable capital paid out for wages, and £80 surplus-value. 
+Therefore, 
+
+20c (depreciation) +358c+52v+80s=510. 
+
+The weekly advance of circulating capital therefore was 358c+52v=410. In terms of per cent this was 
+87.3c+12.7v. For the entire circulating capital of £2,500 this would be £2,182 constant and £318 variable 
+capital. Since the total expenditure for wages in one year was 52 times £52, or £2,704, it follows that in a 
+year the variable capital of £318 was turned over almost exactly 8 1/2; times. The rate of surplus-value 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 4 
+
+was 80/52=153 11/13%. We calculate the rate of profit on the basis of these elements by inserting the 
+above values in the formula p-s'n v/C:s -153 11/13, n=8 1/2, v=318, C=12,500; hence: 
+
+p'=153 11/13 X 8 1/2 X 318/12,500=33.27%. 
+
+We test this by means of the simple formula p - s/C. The total annual surplus-value or profit amounts to 
+52 times £80, or £4,160, and this divided by the total capital of £12,500 gives us 33.28%, or almost an 
+identical result. This is an abnormally high rate of profit, which may only be explained by extraordinarily 
+favourable conditions of the moment (very low prices of cotton along with very high prices of yarn), and 
+could certainly not have obtained throughout the year. 
+
+The s'n in the formula p-s'n v/C stands, as has been said, for the thing called in Book II [English edition: 
+Vol. II, p. 295. - Ed.] the annual rate of surplus-value. In the above case it is 153 11/13% multiplied by 8 
+1/2 or in exact figures, 1,307 9/18%. Thus, if a certain Biedermann [Biedermann - Philistine. A pun, 
+being also the name of the editor of the Deutsche Allgemeine Zeitung. - Ed.~\ was shocked by the 
+abnormity of an annual rate of surplus-value of 1,000% used as an illustration in Book II, he will now 
+perhaps be pacified by this annual rate of surplus-value of more than 1,300% taken from the living 
+experience of Manchester. In times of greatest prosperity, such as we have not indeed seen for a long 
+time, such a rate is by no means a rarity. 
+
+For that matter we have here an illustration of the actual composition of capital in modern large-scale 
+industry. The total capital is broken up into £12,182 constant and £318 variable capital, a sum of 
+£12,500. In terms of percent this is 97 1/2C+2 i/2v=100 C. Only one-fortieth of the total, but in more than 
+an eight-fold annual turnover, serves for the payment of wages. 
+
+Since very few capitalists ever think of making calculations of this sort with reference to their own 
+business, statistics is almost completely silent about the relation of the constant portion of the total social 
+capital to its variable portion. Only the American census gives what is possible under modern conditions, 
+namely the sum of wages paid in each line of business and the profits realised. Questionable as they may 
+be, being based on the capitalist's own uncontrolled statements, they are nevertheless very valuable and 
+the only records available to us on this subject. In Europe we are far too delicate to expect such 
+revelations from our major capitalists. - F.E.] 
+
+
+
+Transcribed for the Internet by Hinrich Kuhls 
+
+Next: Chapter 5 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch04.htm (5 of 5) [23/08/2000 16:00:44] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 5 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Parti 
+
+THE CONVERSION OF SURPLUS-VALUE INTO PROFIT AND OF THE RATE OF 
+
+SURPLUS-VALUE INTO THE RATE OF PROFIT 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 5 
+
+
+
+Economy in the Employment of Constant Capital 
+
+
+
+I. IN GENERAL 
+
+The increase of absolute surplus-value, or the prolongation of surplus-labour, and thus of the 
+working-day, while the variable capital remains the same and thus employs the same number of labourers 
+at the same nominal wages, regardless of whether overtime is paid or not, reduces the relative value of 
+the constant capital as compared to the total and the variable capital, and thereby increases the rate of 
+profit, again irrespective of the growth of the quantity of surplus-value and a possibly rising rate of 
+surplus-value. The volume of the fixed portion of constant capital, such as factory buildings, machinery, 
+etc., remains the same, no matter whether these serve the labour-process 16 or 12 hours. A prolongation 
+of the working-day does not entail any fresh expenditures in this, the most expensive portion of constant 
+capital. Furthermore, the value of the fixed capital is thereby reproduced in a smaller number of turnover 
+periods, so that the time for which it must be advanced to make a certain profit is abbreviated. A 
+prolongation of the working-day therefore increases the profit, even if overtime is paid, or even if, up to a 
+certain point, it is better paid than the normal hours of labour. The ever-mounting need to increase fixed 
+capital in modern industry was therefore one of the main reasons prompting profit-mad capitalists to 
+lengthen the working-day. fill The same conditions do not obtain if the working-day is constant. Then it 
+is necessary either to increase the number of labourers, and with them to a certain extent the amount of 
+fixed capital, the buildings, machinery, etc., in order to exploit a greater quantity of labour (for we leave 
+aside deductions from wages or the depression of wages below their normal level), or, if the intensity 
+and, consequently, the productivity of labour, increase and, generally, more relative surplus-value is 
+produced, the magnitude of the circulating portion of constant capital increases in such industrial 
+branches which use raw materials, since more raw material, etc., is processed in a given time; and, 
+secondly, the amount of machinery set in motion by the same number of labourers, therefore also this 
+part of constant capital, increases as well. Hence, an increase in surplus-value is accompanied by an 
+increase in constant capital, and the growing exploitation of labour by greater outlays of the means of 
+production through which labour is exploited, i.e., by a greater investment of capital. Therefore, the rate 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 5 
+
+of profit is thereby reduced on the one hand while it increases on the other. 
+
+Quite a number of current expenses remain almost or entirely the same whether the working-day is 
+longer or shorter. The cost of supervision is less for 500 working-men during 18 working-hours than for 
+750 working-men during 12 working-hours. "The expense of working a factory 10 hours almost equals 
+that of working it 12." (Reports of Insp. of Fact., October 1848, p. 37.) State and municipal taxes, fire 
+insurance, wages of various permanent employees, depreciation of machinery, and various other 
+expenses of a factory, remain unchanged whether the working-time is long or short. To the extent to 
+which production decreases, these expenses rise as compared to the profit. (Reports of Insp. of Fact., 
+October 1862, p. 19.) 
+
+The period in which the value of the machinery and of the other components of fixed capital is 
+reproduced is determined in practice not by their mere lifetime, but by the duration of the entire 
+labour-process during which they serve and wear out. If the labourers must work 18 instead of 12 hours, 
+this makes a difference of three days more per week, so that one week is stretched into one and a half, 
+and two years into three. If this overtime is unpaid the labourers give away gratis a week out of every 
+three and a year out of every three on top of the normal surplus-labour time. In this way, the reproduction 
+of the value of the machinery is speeded up 50% and accomplished in two-thirds of the usually required 
+time. 
+
+To avoid useless complications, we proceed in this analysis, and in that of price fluctuations for raw 
+materials (Chap. VI), from the assumption that the mass and rate of surplus-value are given. 
+
+As already shown in the presentation of co-operation, division of labour and machinery, the economy of 
+production conditions [English edition: Vol. I, pp. 324-25 - Ed.] found in large-scale production is 
+essentially due to the fact that these conditions prevail as conditions of social, or socially combined, 
+labour, and therefore as social conditions of labour. They are commonly consumed in the process of 
+production by the aggregate labourer, instead of being consumed in small fractions by a mass of 
+labourers operating disconnectedly or, at best, directly co-operating on a small scale. In a large factory 
+with one or two central motors the cost of these motors does not increase in the same ratio as their 
+horse-power and, hence, their possible sphere of activity. The cost of the transmission equipment does 
+not grow in the same ratio as the total number of working machines which it sets in motion. The frame of 
+a machine does not become dearer in the same ratio as the mounting number of tools which it employs as 
+its organs, etc. Furthermore, the concentration of means of production yields a saving on buildings of 
+various kinds not only for the actual workshops, but also for storage, etc. The same applies to 
+expenditures for fuel, lighting, etc. Other conditions of production remain the same, whether used by 
+many or by few. 
+
+This total economy, arising as it does from the concentration of means of production and their use en 
+masse, imperatively requires, however, the accumulation and co-operation of labourers, i.e., a social 
+combination of labour. Hence, it originates quite as much from the social nature of labour, just as 
+surplus-value originates from the surplus-labour of the individual labourer considered singly. Even the 
+continual improvements, which are here possible and necessary, are due solely to the social experience 
+and observation ensured and made possible by production of aggregate labour combined on a large scale. 
+
+The same is true of the second big source of economy in the conditions of production. We refer to the 
+reconversion of the excretions of production, the so-called waste, into new elements of production, either 
+of the same, or of some other line of industry; to the processes by which this so-called excretion is 
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 5 
+
+thrown back into the cycle of production and, consequently, consumption, whether productive or 
+individual. This line of savings, which we shall later examine more closely, is likewise the result of 
+large-scale social labour. It is the attendant abundance of this waste which renders it available again for 
+commerce and thereby turns it into new elements of production. It is only as waste of combined 
+production, therefore, of large-scale production, that it becomes important to the production process and 
+remains a bearer of exchange-value. This waste, aside from the services which it performs as new 
+element of production, reduces the cost of the raw material to the extent to which it is again saleable, for 
+this cost always includes the normal waste, namely the quantity ordinarily lost in processing. The 
+reduction of the cost of this portion of constant capital increases pro tanto the rate of profit, assuming the 
+magnitude of the variable capital and the rate of surplus-value to be given. 
+
+If the surplus-value is given, the rate of profit can be increased only by reducing the value of the constant 
+capital required for commodity-production. So far as constant capital enters into the production of 
+commodities, it is not its exchange-value, but its use-value alone, which matters. The quantity of labour 
+which flax can absorb in a spinnery does not depend on its value, but on its quantity, assuming the 
+productivity of labour, i.e., the level of technical development, to be given. In like manner the assistance 
+rendered by a machine to, say, three labourers does not depend on its value, but on its use-value as a 
+machine. On one level of technical development a bad machine may be expensive and on another a good 
+machine may be cheap. 
+
+The increased profit received by a capitalist through the cheapening of, say, cotton and spinning 
+machinery, is the result of higher labour productivity; not in the spinnery, to be sure, but in cotton 
+cultivation and construction of machinery. It requires smaller outlays of the conditions of labour to 
+incorporate a given quantity of labour, and hence to extract a given quantity of surplus-labour. The costs 
+required to appropriate a certain quantity of surplus-labour diminish. 
+
+We have already mentioned savings yielded in the production process through co-operative use of means 
+of production by the aggregate, or socially combined, labour. Other savings of constant capital arising 
+from the shortening of the time of circulation in which the development of means of communication is a 
+dominant material factor will be discussed later. At this point we shall deal with the savings yielded by 
+continuous improvements of machinery, namely 1) of its material, e.g., the substitution of iron for wood; 
+2) the cheapening of machinery due to the general improvement of machine-building; so that, although 
+the value of the fixed portion of constant capital increases continually with the development of labour on 
+a large scale, it does not increase at the same rate £12J; 3) special improvements enabling existing 
+machinery to work more cheaply and effectively; for instance, improvements of steam-boilers, etc., 
+which will be discussed later on in greater detail; 4) reduction of waste through better machinery. 
+
+Whatever reduces the wear of machinery, and of fixed capital in general, for any given period of 
+production, cheapens not only the individual commodity, in view of the fact that in its price every 
+individual commodity reproduces its aliquot share of this depreciation, but reduces also the aliquot 
+portion of the invested capital for this period. Repair work, etc., to the extent that it becomes necessary, 
+is added to the original cost of the machinery. A reduction in repair costs, due to greater durability of the 
+machinery, lowers pro tanto the price of this machinery. 
+
+It may again be said of all these savings that they are largely possible only for combined labour, and are 
+often not realised until production is carried forward on a still larger scale, so that they require an even 
+greater combination of labour in the immediate process of production. 
+
+
+
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+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 5 
+
+However, on the other hand the development of the productive power of labour in any one line of 
+production, e.g., the production of iron, coal, machinery, in architecture, etc., which may again be partly 
+connected with progress in the field of intellectual production, notably natural science and its practical 
+application, appears to be the premise for a reduction of the value, and consequently of the cost, of means 
+of production in other lines of industry, e.g., the textile industry, or agriculture. This is self-evident, since 
+a commodity which is the product of a certain branch of industry enters another as a means of 
+production. Its greater or lesser price depends on the productivity of labour in the line of production from 
+which it issues as a product, and is at the same time a factor that not only cheapens the commodities into 
+whose production it goes as a means of production, but also reduces the value of the constant capital 
+whose element it here becomes, and thereby one that increases the rate of profit. 
+
+The characteristic feature of this kind of saving of constant capital arising from the progressive 
+development of industry is that the rise in the rate of profit in one line of industry depends on the 
+development of the productive power of labour in another. Whatever falls to the capitalist's advantage in 
+this case is once more a gain produced by social labour, if not a product of the labourers he himself 
+exploits. Such a development of productive power is again traceable in the final analysis to the social 
+nature of the labour engaged in production; to the division of labour in society; and to the development of 
+intellectual labour, especially in the natural sciences. What the capitalist thus utilises are the advantages 
+of the entire system of the social division of labour. It is the development of the productive power of 
+labour in its exterior department, in that department which supplies it with means of production, whereby 
+the value of the constant capital employed by the capitalist is relatively lowered and consequently the 
+rate of profit is raised. 
+
+Another rise in the rate of profit is produced, not by savings in the labour creating the constant capital, 
+but by savings in the application of this capital itself. On the one hand, the concentration of labourers, 
+and their large-scale co-operation, saves constant capital. The same buildings, and heating and lighting 
+appliances, etc., cost relatively less for the large-scale than for small-scale production. The same is true 
+of power and working machinery. Although their absolute value increases, it falls in comparison to the 
+increasing extension of production and the magnitude of the variable capital, or the quantity of 
+labour-power set in motion. The economy realised by a certain capital within its own line of production 
+is first and foremost an economy in labour, i.e., a reduction of the paid labour of its own labourers. The 
+previously mentioned economy, on the other hand, is distinguished from this one by the fact that it 
+accomplishes the greatest possible appropriation of other people's unpaid labour in the most economical 
+way, i.e., with as little expense as the given scale of production will permit. Inasmuch as this economy 
+does not rest with the previously mentioned exploitation of the productivity of the social labour 
+employed in the production of constant capital, but with the economy in the constant capital itself, it 
+springs either directly from the co-operation and social form of labour within a certain branch of 
+production, or from the production of machinery, etc., on a scale in which its value does not grow at the 
+same rate as its use-value. 
+
+Two points must be borne in mind here: It the value of c=zero, then p -s', and the rate of profit would be 
+at its maximum. Second, however, the most important thing for the direct exploitation of labour itself is 
+not the value of the employed means of exploitation, be they fixed capital, raw materials or auxiliary 
+substances. In so far as they serve as means of absorbing labour, as media in or by which labour and, 
+hence, surplus-labour are materialised, the exchange-value of machinery, buildings, raw materials, etc., is 
+quite immaterial. What is ultimately essential is, on the one hand, the quantity of them technically 
+required for combination with a certain quantity of living labour, and, on the other, their suitability, i.e., 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 5 
+
+not only good machinery, but also good raw and auxiliary materials. The rate of profit depends partly on 
+the good quality of the raw material. Good material produces less waste. Less raw materials are then 
+needed to absorb the same quantity of labour. Furthermore, the resistance to be overcome by the working 
+machine is also less. This partly affects even the surplus-value and the rate of surplus-value. The labourer 
+needs more time when using bad raw materials to process the same quantity. Assuming wages remain the 
+same, this causes a reduction in surplus-labour. This also substantially affects the reproduction and 
+accumulation of capital, which depend more on the productivity than on the amount of labour employed, 
+as shown in Book I (S. 627/619ff.) [English edition: p. 603. - Ed.]. 
+
+The capitalist's fanatical insistence on economy in means of production is therefore quite understandable. 
+That nothing is lost or wasted and the means of production are consumed only in the manner required by 
+production itself, depends partly on the skill and intelligence of the labourers and partly on the discipline 
+enforced by the capitalist for the combined labour. This discipline will become superfluous under a social 
+system in which the labourers work for their own account, as it has already become practically 
+superfluous in piece-work. This fanatical insistence comes to the surface also conversely in the 
+adulteration of the elements of production, which is one of the principal means of lowering the relation of 
+the value of the constant capital to the variable capital, and thus of raising the rate of profit. Whereby the 
+sale of these elements of production above their value, so far as this reappears in the product, acquires a 
+marked element of cheating. This practice plays an essential part particularly in German industry, whose 
+maxim is: People will surely appreciate if we send them good samples at first, and then inferior goods 
+afterward. However, as these matters belong to the sphere of competition they do not concern us here. 
+
+It should be noted that this raising of the rate of profit by means of lowering the value of the constant 
+capital, i.e., by reducing its expensiveness, does not in any way depend on whether the branch of industry 
+in which it takes place produces luxuries, or necessities for the consumption of labourers, or means of 
+production generally. This last circumstance would only be of material importance if it were a question 
+of the rate of surplus-value, which depends essentially on the value of labour-power, i.e., on the value of 
+the customary necessities of the labourer. But in the present case the surplus-value and the rate of 
+surplus-value have been assumed as given. The relation of surplus-value to total capital - and this 
+determines the rate of profit - depends under these circumstances exclusively on the value of the constant 
+capital, and in no way on the use-value of the elements of which it is composed. 
+
+A relative cheapening of the means of production does not, of course, exclude the possible increase of 
+their absolute aggregate value, for the absolute volume in which they are employed grows tremendously 
+with the development of the productive power of labour and the attendant growth of the level of 
+production. Economy in the use of constant capital, from whatever angle it may be viewed, is, in part, the 
+exclusive result of the fact that the means of production function and are consumed as joint means of 
+production of the combined labourer, so that the resulting saving appears as a product of the social nature 
+of directly productive labour; in part, however, it is the result of developing productivity of labour in 
+spheres which supply capital with its means of production, so that if we view the total labour in relation 
+to total capital, and not simply the labourers employed by capitalist X in relation to capitalist Y, this 
+economy presents itself once more as a product of the development of the productive forces of social 
+labour, with the only difference that capitalist X enjoys the advantage not only of the productivity of 
+labour in his own establishment, but also of that in other establishments. Yet the capitalist views 
+economy of his constant capital as a condition wholly independent of, and entirely alien to, his labourers. 
+He is always well aware, however, that the labourer has something to do with the employer buying much 
+or little labour with the same amount of money (for this is how the transaction between the capitalist and 
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 5 
+
+labourer appears in his mind). This economy in the application of the means of production, this method 
+of obtaining a certain result with a minimum outlay appears more than any other inner power of labour as 
+an inherent power of capital and a method peculiar and characteristic of the capitalist mode of 
+production. 
+
+This conception is so much the less surprising since it appears to accord with fact, and since the 
+relationship of capital actually conceals the inner connection behind the utter indifference, isolation, and 
+alienation in which they place the labourer vis-a-vis the means incorporating his labour. 
+
+First, the means of production that make up the constant capital represent only the money belonging to 
+the capitalist (just as the body of the Roman debtor represented the money of his creditor, according to 
+Linguet [Theorie des loix civiles, ou principes fondamentaux de la societe, tome II, Londres, 1767, livre 
+V, chapitre XX. - Ed.]) and are related to him alone, while the labourer, who comes in contact with them 
+only in the direct process of production, deals with them as use-values of production only as means of 
+labour and materials of production. Increase or decrease of their value, therefore, has as little bearing on 
+his relations to the capitalist as the circumstance whether he may be working with copper or iron. For 
+that matter, the capitalist likes to view this point differently, as we shall later indicate, whenever the 
+means of production gain in value and thereby reduce his rate of profit. 
+
+Second, in so far as these means of production in the capitalist production process are at the same time 
+means of exploiting labour, the labourer is no more concerned with their relative dearness or cheapness 
+than a horse is concerned with the dearness or cheapness of its bit and bridle. 
+
+Finally, we have earlier [English edition: Vol. 1, p. 325. - Ed.] seen that, in fact, the labourer looks at the 
+social nature of his labour, at its combination with the labour of others for a common purpose, as he 
+would at an alien power; the condition of realising this combination is alien property, whose dissipation 
+would be totally indifferent to him if he were not compelled to economise with it. The situation is quite 
+different in factories owned by the labourers themselves, as in Rochdale, for instance. 
+
+It scarcely needs to be mentioned, then, that as far as concerns the productivity of labour in one branch of 
+industry as a lever for cheapening and improving the means of production in another, and thereby raising 
+the rate of profit, the general interconnection of social labour affects the labourers as a matter alien to 
+them, a matter that actually concerns the capitalist alone, since it is he who buys and appropriates these 
+means of production. The fact that he buys the product of labourers in another branch of industry with 
+the product of labourers in his own, and that he therefore disposes of the product of the labourers of 
+another capitalist only by gratuitously appropriating that of his own, is a development that is fortunately 
+concealed by the process of circulation, etc. 
+
+Moreover, since production on a large scale develops for the first time in its capitalist form, the thirst for 
+profits on the one hand, and competition on the other, which compels the cheapest possible production of 
+commodities, make this economy in the employment of constant capital appear as something peculiar to 
+the capitalist mode of production and therefore as a function of the capitalist. 
+
+Just as the capitalist mode of production promotes the development of the productive powers of social 
+labour, on the one hand, so does it whip on to economy in the employment of constant capital on the 
+other. 
+
+However, it is not only the alienation and indifference that arise between the labourer, the bearer of 
+living labour, and the economical, i.e., rational and thrifty, use of the material conditions of his labour. In 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 5 
+
+line with its contradictory and antagonistic nature, the capitalist mode of production proceeds to count 
+the prodigious dissipation of the labourer's life and health, and the lowering of his living conditions, as an 
+economy in the use of constant capital and thereby as a means of raising the rate of profit. 
+
+Since the labourer passes the greater portion of his life in the process of production, the conditions of the 
+production process are largely the conditions of his active living process, or his living conditions, and 
+economy in these living conditions is a method of raising the rate of profit; just as we saw earlier 
+[English edition: Vol. I, pp. 231-302. - Ed.] that overwork, the transformation of the labourer into a work 
+horse, is a means of increasing capital, or speeding up the production of surplus- value. Such economy 
+extends to overcrowding close and unsanitary premises with labourers, or, as capitalists put it, to space 
+saving; to crowding dangerous machinery into close quarters without using safety devices; to neglecting 
+safety rules in production processes pernicious to health, or, as in mining, bound up with danger, etc. Not 
+to mention the absence of all provisions to render the production process human, agreeable, or at least 
+bearable. From the capitalist point of view this would be quite a useless and senseless waste. The 
+capitalist mode of production is generally, despite all its niggardliness, altogether too prodigal with its 
+human material, just as, conversely, thanks to its method of distribution of products through commerce 
+and manner of competition, it is very prodigal with its material means, and loses for society what it gains 
+for the individual capitalist. 
+
+Just as capital has the tendency to reduce the direct employment of living labour to no more than the 
+necessary labour, and always to cut down the labour required to produce a commodity by exploiting the 
+social productiveness of labour and thus to save a maximum of directly applied living labour, so it has 
+also the tendency to employ this labour, reduced to a minimum, under the most economical conditions, 
+i.e., to reduce to its minimum the value of the employed constant capital. If it is the necessary 
+labour-time which determines the value of commodities, instead of all the labour-time contained in them, 
+so it is the capital which realises this determination and, at the same time, continually reduces the 
+labour-time socially necessary to produce a given commodity. The price of the commodity is thereby 
+lowered to its minimum since every portion of the labour required for its production is reduced to its 
+minimum. 
+
+We must make a distinction in economy as regards use of constant capital. If the quantity, and 
+consequently the sum of the value of employed capital, increases, this is primarily only a concentration 
+of more capital in a single hand. Yet it is precisely this greater quantity applied by a single source - 
+attended, as a rule, by an absolutely greater but relatively smaller amount of employed labour - which 
+permits economy of constant capital. To take an individual capitalist, the volume of the necessary 
+investment of capital, especially of its fixed portion, increases. But its value decreases relative to the 
+mass of worked-up materials and exploited labour. 
+
+This is now to be briefly illustrated by a few examples. We shall begin at the end - the economy in the 
+conditions of production, in so far as these also constitute the living conditions of the labourer. 
+
+II. SAVINGS LABOUR CONDITIONS AT THE EXPENSE OF THE LABOURERS. COAL 
+MINES. NEGLECT OF INDISPENSABLE OUTLAYS 
+
+"Under the competition which exists among the coal-owners and coal-proprietors ... no more outlay is 
+incurred than is sufficient to overcome the most obvious physical difficulties; and under that which 
+prevails among the labouring colliers, who are ordinarily more numerous than the work to be done 
+requires, a large amount of danger and exposure to the most noxious influences will gladly be 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 5 
+
+encountered for wages a little in advance of the agricultural population round them, in an occupation, in 
+which they can moreover make a profitable use of their children. This double competition is quite 
+sufficient ... to cause a large proportion of the pits to be worked with the most imperfect drainage and 
+ventilation; often with ill-constructed shafts, bad gearing, incompetent engineers, and ill-constructed and 
+ill-prepared bays and roadways; causing a destruction of life, and limb, and health, the statistics of which 
+would present an appalling picture." (First Report on Children's Employment in Mines and Collieries, 
+etc., April 21, 1829, p. 102.) About 1860, a weekly average of 15 men lost their lives in the English 
+collieries. According to the report on Coal Mines Accidents (February 6, 1862), a total of 8,466 were 
+killed in the ten years 1852-61. But the report admits that this number is far too low, because in the first 
+few years, when the inspectors had just been installed and their districts were far too large, a great many 
+accidents and deaths were not reported. The very fact that the number of accidents, though still very high, 
+has decreased markedly since the inspection system was established, and this in spite of the limited 
+powers and insufficient numbers of the inspectors, demonstrates the natural tendency of capitalist 
+exploitation. These human sacrifices are mostly due to the inordinate avarice of the mine owners. Very 
+often they had only one shaft sunk, so that apart from the lack of effective ventilation there was no 
+escape were this shaft to become obstructed. 
+
+Capitalist production, when considered in isolation from the process of circulation and the excesses of 
+competition, is very economical with the materialised labour incorporated in commodities. Yet, more 
+than any other mode of production, it squanders human lives, or living-labour, and not only blood and 
+flesh, but also nerve and brain. Indeed, it is only by dint of the most extravagant waste of individual 
+development that the development of the human race is at all safeguarded and maintained in the epoch of 
+history immediately preceding the conscious reorganisation of society. Since all of the economist here 
+discussed arises from the social nature of labour, it is indeed just this directly social nature of labour 
+which causes the waste of life and health. The following question suggested by factory inspector R. 
+Baker is characteristic in this respect: "The whole question is one for serious consideration, and in what 
+way this sacrifice of infant life occasioned by congregational labour can be best averted?" (Reports of 
+Insp. of Fact., October 1863, p. 157.) 
+
+Factories. Under this heading there is covered the disregard for safety measures to ensure the security, 
+comfort, and health of labourers also in the actual factories. It is to blame for a large portion of the 
+casualty lists containing the wounded and killed industrial workers (cf. the annual factory reports). 
+Similarly, lack of space, ventilation, etc. 
+
+As far back as October 1855, Leonard Horner complained about the resistance of very many 
+manufacturers to the legal requirements concerning safety devices on horizontal shafts, although the 
+danger was continually emphasised by accidents, many of them fatal, and although these safety devices 
+did not cost much and did not interfere with production. (Reports of Insp. of Fact., October 1855, p. 6.) 
+In their resistance against these and other legal requirements the manufacturers were openly seconded by 
+the unpaid justices of the peace, who were themselves mostly manufacturers or friends of manufacturers, 
+and handed down their decisions accordingly. What sort of verdicts these gentlemen handed down was 
+revealed by Superior Judge Campbell, who said with reference to one of them, against which an appeal 
+had been made to him: "It is not an interpretation of the Act of Parliament, it is a repeal of the Act of 
+Parliament" (loc. cit., p. 11). Horner states in the same report that in many factories labourers are not 
+warned when machinery is about to be started up. Since there is always something to be done about 
+machinery even when it is not operating, fingers and hands are always occupied with it, and accidents 
+happen continually due to the mere omission of a warning signal (loc. cit., p. 44). The manufacturers had 
+
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+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 5 
+
+a trades-union at the time to oppose factory legislation, the so-called National Association for the 
+Amendment of the Factory Laws in Manchester, which in March 1855 collected more than 
+£50,000 by assessing 2 shillings per horse-power, to pay for the court proceedings against its 
+members started by factory inspectors, and to conduct the cases in the name of the union. It was a matter 
+of proving that killing was not murder [Allusion to the pamphlet 'Killing no Murder' which appeared in 
+England in 1657. Its author was the leveller Edward Sexby. - Ed.] when it occurred for the sake of profit. 
+A factory inspector for Scotland, Sir John Kincaid, tells about a certain firm in Glasgow which used the 
+iron scrap at its factory to make protective shields for all its machinery, the cost amounting to £9 
+Is. Joining the manufacturers' union would have cost it an assessment of £l 1 for its 1 10 
+horse-power, which was more than the cost of all its protective appliances. But the National Association 
+had been organised in 1854 for the express purpose of opposing the law which prescribed such 
+protection. The manufacturers had not paid the least heed to it during the whole period from 1844 to 
+1854. When the factory inspectors, at instructions from Palmerston, then informed the manufacturers that 
+the law would be enforced in earnest, the manufacturers instantly founded their association, many of 
+whose most prominent members were themselves justices of the peace and in this capacity were 
+supposed to enforce the law. When in April 1855 the new Minister of the Interior, Sir George Grey, 
+offered a compromise under which the government would be content with practically nominal safety 
+appliances the Association indignantly rejected even this. In various lawsuits the famous engineer 
+William Fairbairn throw the weight of his reputation behind the principle of economy and in defence of 
+the freedom of capital which had been violated. The head of factory inspection, Leonard Horner, was 
+persecuted and maligned by the manufacturers in every conceivable manner. 
+
+But the manufacturers did not rest until they obtained a writ of the Court of Queen's Bench, according to 
+which the Law of 1844 did not prescribe protective devices for horizontal shafts installed more than 
+seven feet above the ground and, finally, in 1856 they succeeded in securing an Act of Parliament 
+entirely satisfactory to them in the circumstances, through the services of the bigot Wilson Patten, one of 
+those pious souls whose display of religion is always ready to do the dirty work for the knights of the 
+money-bag. This Act practically deprived the labourers of all special protection and referred them to the 
+common courts for compensation in the event of industrial accidents (sheer mockery in view of the 
+excessive cost of English lawsuits), while it made it almost impossible for the manufacturer to lose the 
+lawsuit by providing in a finely- worded clause for expert testimony. The result was a rapid increase of 
+accidents. In the six months from May to October 1858, Inspector Baker reported that accidents 
+increased by 21% compared with the preceding half-year. In his opinion 36.7% of these accidents might 
+have been avoided. It is true that the number of accidents in 1858 and 1859 was considerably below that 
+of 1845 and 1846. It was actually 29% less although the number of labourers in the industries subject to 
+inspection had increased 20%. But what was the reason for this? In so far as this issue has been settled 
+now (1865), it was mainly accomplished through the introduction of new machinery already provided 
+with safety devices to which the manufacturer did not object because they cost him no extra expense. 
+Furthermore, a few labourers succeeded in securing heavy damages for their lost arms, and had this 
+judgement upheld even by the highest courts. (Reports of Insp. of Fact., April 30, 1861, p. 31, ditto April 
+1862, p. 17.) 
+
+So much for economy in devices protecting the life and limbs of labourers (among whom many children) 
+against the dangers of handling and operating machinery. 
+
+Work in enclosed places generally. It is well known to what extent economy of space, and thus of 
+buildings, crowds labourers into close quarters. In addition, there is also economy in means of 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 5 
+
+ventilation. Coupled with the long working-hours, the two cause a large increase in diseases of the 
+respiratory organs, and an attendant increase in the death-rate. The following illustrations have been 
+taken from Reports on Public Health, 6th report, 1863. This report was compiled by Dr. John Simon, 
+well known from our Book I. 
+
+Just as combination and co-operation of labour permits large-scale employment of machinery, 
+concentration of means of production, and economy in their use, it is this very working together en masse 
+in enclosed places and under conditions rather determined by ease of manufacture than by health 
+requirements - it is this mass concentration in one and the same workshop that acts, on the one hand, as a 
+source of greater profits for the capitalist and, on the other, unless counteracted by a reduced number of 
+hours and special precautions, as the cause of the squandering of the lives and health of the labourers. 
+
+Dr. Simon formulates the following rule and backs it up with abundant statistics: "In proportion as the 
+people of a district are attracted to any collective indoor occupation, in such proportion, other things 
+being equal, the district death-rate by lung diseases will be increased" (p. 23). The cause is bad 
+ventilation. "And probably in all England there is no exception to the rule, that, in every district which 
+has a large indoor industry, the increased mortality of the workpeople is such as to colour the 
+death-return of the whole district with a marked excess of lung disease" (p. 23). 
+
+Mortality figures for industries carried on in enclosed places, collected by the Board of Health in 1860 
+and 1861, indicate that for the same number of men between the ages of 15 and 55, for which the 
+death-rate from consumption and other pulmonary diseases in English agricultural districts is 100, the 
+death-rate in Coventry is 163, in Blackburn and Skipton 167, Congleton and Bradford 168, Leicester 
+171, Leek 182, Macclesfield 184, Bolton 190, Nottingham 192, Rochdale 193, Derby 198, Salford and 
+Ashton-under-Lyne 203, Leeds 218, Preston 220, and Manchester 263 (p. 24). The following table 
+presents a still more striking illustration. 
+
+
+
+District 
+
+
+Chief industry 
+
+
+Deaths from pulmonary diseases 
+
+between the ages of 15 and 25, per 
+
+100,000 population 
+
+
+Men 
+
+
+Women 
+
+
+Berkhampstead 
+
+
+Straw plaiting (women) 
+
+
+219 
+
+
+578 
+
+
+Leighton Buzzard 
+
+
+Straw plaiting (women) 
+
+
+309 
+
+
+554 
+
+
+Newport Pagnell 
+
+
+Lace manufacture (women) 
+
+
+301 
+
+
+617 
+
+
+Towcester 
+
+
+Lace manufacture (women) 
+
+
+239 
+
+
+577 
+
+
+Yeovil 
+
+
+Manufacture of gloves (mainly women) 
+
+
+280 
+
+
+409 
+
+
+Leek 
+
+
+Silk industry (predominantly women) 
+
+
+437 
+
+
+856 
+
+
+Congleton 
+
+
+Silk industry (predominantly women) 
+
+
+566 
+
+
+790 
+
+
+Macclesfield 
+
+
+Silk industry (predominantly women) 
+
+
+593 
+
+
+890 
+
+
+Healthy country district 
+
+
+Agriculture 
+
+
+331 
+
+
+333 
+
+
+
+It shows the death-rate for pulmonary diseases separately for both sexes between the ages of 15 and 25 
+computed for every 100,000 population. In the districts selected only women are employed in industries 
+carried on in enclosed places, while men work in all other possible lines. 
+
+In the silk districts, where more men are employed in the factory, their mortality is also higher. The 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 5 
+
+death-rate from consumption, etc., for both sexes, reveals, as the report says, "the atrocious sanitary 
+circumstances under which much of our silk industry is conducted". And it is in this same silk industry 
+that the manufacturers, pleading exceptionally favourable and sanitary conditions in their establishments, 
+demanded by way of an exception, and partially obtained, long working-hours for children under 13 
+years of age (Buch I, Kap. VIII, 6, S. 296/286) [English edition: Ch. X, 6, p. 293. - Ed.] 
+
+"Probably no industry which has yet been investigated has afforded a worse picture than that which Dr. 
+Smith gives of tailoring: - 'Shops vary much in their sanitary conditions, but almost universally are 
+overcrowded and ill-ventilated, and in a high degree unfavourable to health.... Such rooms are 
+necessarily warm; but when the gas is lit, as during the day-time on foggy days, and at night during the 
+winter, the heat increases to 80° and even to upwards of 90°, causing profuse perspiration, and 
+condensation of vapour upon the panes of glass, so that it runs down in streams or drops from the roof, 
+and the operatives are compelled to keep some windows open, at whatever risk to themselves of taking 
+cold.' And he gives the following account of what he found in 16 of the most important West End shops. 
+The largest cubic space in these ill-ventilated rooms allowed to each operative is 270 feet, and the least 
+105 feet, and in the whole averages only 156 feet per man. In one room, with a gallery running round it, 
+and lighted only from the roof, from 92 to upwards of 100 men are employed, where a large number of 
+gaslights burn, and where the urinals are in the closest proximity, the cubic space does not exceed 150 
+feet per man. In another room, which can only be called a kennel in a yard, lighted from the roof, and 
+ventilated by a small skylight opening, five to six men work in a space of 1 12 cubic feet per man.' ... 
+Tailors, in those atrocious workshops which Dr. Smith describes, work generally for about 12 or 13 
+hours a day, and at some times the work will be continued for 15 or 16 hours" (pp. 25, 26, 28) 
+
+
+
+Numbers of persons 
+employed 
+
+
+Branches of industry and 
+locality 
+
+
+Death-rate per 100,000 between the ages of 
+
+
+25-35 
+
+
+35-45 
+
+
+45-55 
+
+
+958,265 
+
+
+Agriculture, England and 
+Wales 
+
+
+743 
+
+
+805 
+
+
+1,145 
+
+
+22,301 men and 
+
+
+Tailoring, London 
+
+
+958 
+
+
+1,262 
+
+
+2,093 
+
+
+12,377 women 
+
+
+13,803 
+
+
+Type-setters and printers, 
+London 
+
+
+894 
+
+
+1,747 
+
+
+2,367 
+
+
+
+(p. 30). It must be noted, and has in fact been remarked by John Simon, chief of the Medical Department 
+and author of the report, that the mortality-rate for tailors, type-setters, and printers of London between 
+the ages of 25 and 35 was cited lower than the real figure, because London employers in both lines of 
+business have a large number of young people (probably up to 30 years of age) from the country engaged 
+as apprentices and "improvers", i.e., men getting additional training. These swell the number of hands for 
+which the London industrial death-rates are computed. But they do not proportionally contribute to the 
+number of deaths in London because their stay there is only temporary. If they fall ill during this period, 
+they return to their homes in the country, where their death is registered if they die. This circumstance 
+affects the earlier ages still more and renders the London death-rates for these age groups completely 
+valueless as indexes of the ill-effects of industry on health (p. 30). 
+
+The case of the type-setters is similar to that of the tailors. In addition to lack of ventilation, to poisoned 
+air, etc., there is still night-work to be mentioned. Their regular working-time is 12 to 13 hours, 
+sometimes 15 to 16. "Great heat and foulness which begin when the gas-jets are lit. ... It not infrequently 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 5 
+
+happens that fumes from a foundry, or foul odours from machinery or sinks, rise from the lower room, 
+and aggravate the evils of the upper one. The heated air of the lower rooms always tends to heat the 
+upper by warming the floor, and when the rooms are low, and the consumption of gas great, this is a 
+serious evil, and one only surpassed in the case where the steam-boilers are placed in the lower room, 
+and supply unwished-for heat to the whole house.... As a general expression, it may be stated that 
+universally the ventilation is defective, and quite insufficient to remove the heat and the products of the 
+combustion of gas in the evening and during the night, and that in many offices, and particularly in those 
+made from dwelling-houses, the condition is most deplorable. ... And in some offices (especially those of 
+weekly newspapers) there will be work - work too, in which boys between 12 and 16 years of age take 
+equal part -f or almost uninterrupted periods of two days and a night at a time; - while, in other 
+printing-offices which lay themselves out for the doing of 'urgent' business, Sunday gives no relaxation 
+to the workman, and his working-days become seven instead of six in every week" (pp. 26, 28). 
+
+The milliners and dress-makers have already attracted our attention in Book I (Kap. VIII, 3, S. 249/241) 
+[English edition: Ch. X, 3, pp. 254-55. - Ed.] in respect to overwork. Their workshops are described in 
+our report by Dr. Ord. Even if better during the day, they become overheated, foul, and unhealthy during 
+the hours in which gas is burned. Dr. Ord found in 34 shops of the better sort that the average number of 
+cubic feet per worker was as follows: 
+
+"... In four cases more than 500, in four other cases from 400 to 500, ... in seven others from 200 to 250, 
+in four others from 150 to 200, and in nine others only from 100 to 150. The largest of these allowances 
+would but be scanty for continuous work, unless the space were thoroughly well ventilated; and, except 
+with extraordinary ventilation, its atmosphere could not be tolerably wholesome during gas-light." And 
+here is Dr. Ord's remark about one of the minor workshops which he visited, operated for the account of 
+a middleman: "One room area in cubical feet, 1,280; persons present, 14; area to each, in cubical feet, 
+91.5. The women here were weary-looking and squalid; their earnings were stated to be 7s. to 15s. a 
+week, and their tea. ... Hours 8 a. m. to 8 p. m. The small room into which these 14 persons were 
+crowded was ill-ventilated. There were two movable windows and a fire-place, but the latter was blocked 
+up and there was no special ventilation of any kind" (p. 27). 
+
+The same report states with reference to the overwork of milliners and dress-makers: "... The overwork 
+of the young women in fashionable dress-making establishments does not, for more than about four 
+months of the year, prevail in that monstrous degree which has on many occasions excited momentary 
+public surprise and indignation; but for the indoor hands during these months it will, as a rule, be of full 
+14 hours a day, and will, when there is pressure, be, for days together, of 17 or even 18 hours. At other 
+times of the year the work of the indoor hands ranges probably from 10 to 14 hours; and uniformly the 
+hours for outdoor hands are 12 or 13. For mantle-makers, collar-makers, shirt-makers, and various other 
+classes of needleworkers (including persons who work at the sewing-machine) the hours spent in the 
+common workroom are fewer - generally not more than 10 to 12 hours; but, says Dr. Ord, the regular 
+hours of work are subject to considerable extension in certain houses at certain times, by the practice of 
+working extra hours for extra pay, and in other houses by the practice of taking work away from houses 
+of business, to be done after hours at home, both practices being, it may be added, often compulsory" (p. 
+28). John Simon remarks in a footnote to this page: "Mr. Radcliffe, ... the Honorary Secretary of the 
+Epidemiological Society, ... happening to have unusual opportunities for questioning the young women 
+employed in first-class houses of business ... has found that in only one out of twenty girls examined who 
+called themselves 'quite well' could the state of health be pronounced good; the rest exhibiting in various 
+degrees evidences of depressed physical power, nervous exhaustion, and numerous functional disorders 
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 5 
+
+thereupon dependent. He attributes these conditions in the first place to the length of the hours of work - 
+the minimum of which he estimates at 12 hours a day out of the season; and secondarily to ... crowding 
+and bad ventilation of workrooms, gas-vapours, insufficiency or bad quality of food, and inattention to 
+domestic comfort." 
+
+The conclusion arrived at by the chief of the English Board of Health is that "it is practically impossible 
+for workpeople to insist upon that which in theory is their first sanitary right - the right that whatever 
+work their employer assembles them to do, shall, so far as depends upon him, be, at his cost, divested of 
+all needlessly unwholesome circumstances; ... while workpeople are practically unable to exact that 
+sanitary justice for themselves, they also (notwithstanding the presumed intentions of the law) cannot 
+expect any effectual assistance from the appointed administrators of the Nuisances Removal Acts" (p. 
+29). "Doubtless there may be some small technical difficulty in defining the exact line at which 
+employers shall become subject to regulation. But ... in principle, the sanitary claim is universal. And in 
+the interest of myriads of labouring men and women, whose lives are now needlessly afflicted and 
+shortened by the infinite physical suffering which their mere employment engenders, I would venture to 
+express my hope, that universally the sanitary circumstances of labour may, at least so far, be brought 
+within appropriate provisions of law, that the effective ventilation of all indoor workplaces may be 
+ensured, and that in every naturally insalubrious occupation the specific health-endangering influence 
+may as far as practicable be reduced" (p. 31). 
+
+III. ECONOMY IN THE GENERATION AND TRANSMISSION OF POWER, AND IN 
+BUILDINGS 
+
+In his October 1852 report L. Horner quotes a letter of the famous engineer James Nasmyth of Patricroft, 
+the inventor of the steam-hammer, which, among other things, contains the following: 
+
+"...The public are little aware of the vast increase in driving power which has been obtained by such 
+changes of system and improvements (of steam-engines) as I allude to. The engine power of this district 
+(Lancashire) lay under the incubus of timid and prejudiced traditions for nearly forty years, but now we 
+are happily emancipated. During the last fifteen years, but more especially in the course of the last four 
+years (since 1848), some very important changes have taken place in the system of working condensing 
+steam-engines. ... The result ... has been to realise a much greater amount of duty or work performed by 
+the identical engines, and that again at a very considerable reduction of the expenditure of fuel. ... For a 
+great many years after the introduction of steam-power into the mills and manufactories of the 
+above-named districts, the velocity of which, it was considered proper to work condensing steam-engines 
+was about 220 feet per minute of the piston; that is to say, an engine with a 5-feet stroke was restricted by 
+'rule' to make 22 revolutions of the crankshaft per minute. Beyond this speed it was not considered 
+prudent or desirable to work the engine; and as all the mill gearing ... were made suitable to this 220 feet 
+per minute speed of piston, this slow and absurdly restricted velocity ruled the working of such engines 
+for many years. However, at length, either through fortunate ignorance of the 'rule', or by better reasons 
+on the part of some bold innovator, a greater speed was tried, and as the result was highly favourable, 
+others followed the example, by, as it is termed, letting the engine away', namely, by so modifying the 
+proportions of the first motion wheels of the mill gearing as to permit the engine to run at 300 feet and 
+upwards per minute, while the mill gearing generally was kept at its former speed.... This 'letting the 
+engine away'... has led to the almost universal 'speeding' of engines, because it was proved that not only 
+was there available power gained from the identical engines, but also as the higher velocity of the engine 
+yielded a greater momentum in the fly-wheel the motion was found to be much more regular.... We ... 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 5 
+
+obtain more power from a steam-engine by simply permitting its piston to move at a higher velocity 
+(pressure of steam and vacuum in the condenser remaining the same).... Thus, for example, suppose any 
+given engine yields 40 horse-power when its piston is travelling at 200 feet per minute, if by suitable 
+arrangement or modification we can permit this same engine to run at such a speed as that its piston will 
+travel through space at 400 feet per minute (pressure of steam and vacuum, as before said, remaining the 
+same), we shall then have just double the power ... and as the pressure by steam and vacuum is the same 
+in both cases, the strain upon the parts of this engine will be no greater at 400 than at 200 feet speed of 
+piston, so that the risk of 'break-down' does not materially increase with the increase of speed. All the 
+difference is, that we shall in such case consume steam at a rate proportional to the speed of piston, or 
+nearly so; and there will he some small increase in the wear and tear of 'the brasses' or rubbing-parts, but 
+so slight as to be scarcely worth notice.... But in order to obtain increase of power from the same engine 
+by permitting its piston to travel at a higher velocity it is requisite ... to bum more coal per hour under the 
+same boiler, or employ boilers of greater evaporating capabilities, i.e., greater steam-generating powers. 
+This accordingly was done, and boilers of greater steam-generating or water-evaporating powers were 
+supplied to the old 'speeded' engines, and in many cases near 100 per cent more work was got out of the 
+identical engines by means of such changes as above named. About ten years ago the extraordinary 
+economical production of power as realised by the engines employed in the mining operations of 
+Cornwall began to attract attention; and as competition in the spinning trade forced manufacturers to look 
+to 'savings' as the chief source of profits, the remarkable difference in the consumption of coal per 
+horsepower per hour, as indicated by the performance of the Cornish engines, as also the extraordinary 
+economical performance of Woolf s double-cylinder engines, began to attract increased attention to the 
+subject of economy of fuel in this district, and as the Cornish and double-cylinder engines gave a 
+horse-power for every 3&fracl2; to 4 pounds of coal per hour, while the generality of cotton-mill 
+engines were consuming 8 or 12 pounds per horse per hour, so remarkable a difference induced 
+mill-owners and engine-makers in this district to endeavour to realise, by the adoption of similar means, 
+such extraordinary economical results as were proved to be common in Cornwall and France, where the 
+high price of coal had compelled manufacturers to look more sharply to such costly departments of their 
+establishments. The result of this increased attention to economy of fuel has been most important in 
+many respects. In the first place, many boilers, the half of whose surface had been in the good old times 
+of high profits left exposed quite naked to the cold air, began to get covered with thick blankets of felt, 
+and brick and plaster, and other modes and means whereby to prevent the escape of that heat from their 
+exposed surface which had cost so much fuel to maintain. Steam-pipes began to be 'protected' in the 
+same manner, and the outside of the cylinder of the engine felted and cased in with wood in like manner. 
+Next came the use of 'high steam', namely, instead of having the safety-valve loaded so as to blow off at 
+4, 6, or 8 lbs. to the square inch, it was found that by raising the pressure to 14 or 20 lbs. ... a very 
+decided economy of fuel resulted; in other words, the work of the mill was performed by a very notable 
+reduced consumption of coals, ... and those who had the means and the boldness carried the increased 
+pressure and 'expansion system' of working to the full extent, by employing properly constructed boilers 
+to supply steam of 30, 40, 50, 60, and 70 lbs. to the square inch; pressures which would have frightened 
+an engineer of the old school out of his wits. But as the economic results of so increasing the pressure of 
+steam... soon appeared in most unmistakable £ s. d. forms, the use of high-pressure steam-boilers 
+for working condensing engines became almost general. And those who desired to go to the full extent ... 
+soon adopted the employment of the Woolf engine in its full integrity, and most of our mills lately built 
+are worked by the Woolf engines, namely, those on which there are two cylinders to each engine, in one 
+of which the high-pressure steam from the boiler exerts or yields power by its excess of pressure over 
+that of the atmosphere, which, instead of the said high-pressure steam being let pass off at the end of 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 5 
+
+each stroke free into the atmosphere, is caused to pass into a low-pressure cylinder of about four times 
+the area of the former, and after due expansion passes to the condenser, the economic result obtained 
+from engines of this class is such that the consumption of fuel is at the rate of from 3&fracl2; to 4 lbs. of 
+coal per horse per hour; while in the engines of the old system the consumption used to be on the average 
+from 12 to 14 lbs. per horse per hour. By an ingenious arrangement, the Woolf system of double cylinder 
+or combined low- and high-pressure engine has been introduced extensively to already existing engines, 
+whereby their performance has been increased both as to power and economy of fuel. The same result ... 
+has been in use these eight or ten years, by having a high-pressure engine so connected with a 
+condensing engine as to enable the waste steam of the former to pass on to and work the latter. This 
+system is in many cases very convenient. 
+
+"It would not be very easy to get an exact return as to the increase of performance or work done by the 
+identical engines to which some or all of these improvements have been applied; I am confident, 
+however, ... that from the same weight of steam-engine machinery we are now obtaining at least 50 per 
+cent more duty or work performed on the average, and that in many cases, the identical steam-engines 
+which in the days of the restricted speed of 220 feet per minute yielded 50 horse-power, are now yielding 
+upwards of 100. The very economical results derived from the employment of high-pressure steam in 
+working condensing steam-engines, together with the much higher power required by mill extensions 
+from the same engines, has within the last three years led to the adoption of tubular boilers, yielding a 
+much more economical result than those formerly employed in generating steam for mill engines." 
+(Reports of Insp. of Fact., October 1852, pp. 23-27.) 
+
+What applies to power generation also applies to power transmission and working machinery. 
+
+"The rapid strides with which improvement in machinery has advanced within these few years have 
+enabled manufacturers to increase production without additional moving power. The more economical 
+application of labour has been rendered necessary by the diminished length of the working-day, and in 
+most well-regulated mills an intelligent mind is always considering in what manner production can be 
+increased with decreased expenditure. I have before me a statement, kindly prepared by a very intelligent 
+gentleman in my district, showing the number of hands employed, their ages, the machines at work, and 
+the wages paid from 1840 to the present time. In October 1840, his firm employed 600 hands, of whom 
+200 were under 13 years of age. In October last, 350 hands were employed, of whom 60 only were under 
+13; the same number of machines, within very few, were at work, and the same sum in wages was paid at 
+both periods. " (Redgrave's Report in Reports of Insp. of Fact., Oct. 1852, pp. 58-59.) 
+
+These improvements of the machinery do not show their full effect until they are used in new, 
+appropriately arranged factories. 
+
+"As regards the improvement made in machinery, I may say in the first place that a great advance has 
+been made in the construction of mills adapted to receive improved machinery.... In the bottom room I 
+double all my yarn, and upon that single floor I shall put 29,000 doubling spindles. I effect a saving of 
+labour in the room and shed of at least 10 per cent, not so much from any improvement in the principle of 
+doubling yarn, but from a concentration of machinery under a single management; and I am enabled to 
+drive the said number of spindles by one single shaft, a saving in shafting, compared with what other 
+firms have to use to work the same number of spindles, of 60 per cent, in some cases 80 per cent. There 
+is a large saving in oil, and shafting, and in grease.... With superior mill arrangements and improved 
+machinery, at the lowest estimate I have effected a saving in labour of 10 per cent, a great saving in 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 5 
+
+power, coal, oil, tallow, shafting and strapping." (Evidence of a cotton spinner, Reports of Insp. of Fact., 
+Oct. 1863, pp. 109, 110.) 
+
+IV. UTILISATION OF THE EXCRETIONS OF PRODUCTION 
+
+The capitalist mode of production extends the utilisation of the excretions of production and 
+consumption. By the former we mean the waste of industry and agriculture, slid by the latter partly the 
+excretions produced by the natural exchange of matter in the human body and partly the form of objects 
+that remains after their consumption. In the chemical industry, for instance, excretions of production are 
+such by-products as are wasted in production on a smaller scale; iron filings accumulating in the 
+manufacture of machinery and returning into the production of iron as raw material, etc. Excretions of 
+consumption are the natural waste matter discharged by the human body, remains of clothing in the form 
+of rags, etc. Excretions of consumption are of the greatest importance for agriculture. So far as their 
+utilisation is concerned, there is an enormous waste of them in the capitalist economy. In London, for 
+instance, they find no better use for the excretion of four and a half million human beings than to 
+contaminate the Thames with it at heavy expense. 
+
+Rising prices of raw materials naturally stimulate the utilisation of waste products. 
+
+The general requirements for the re-employment of these excretions are: large quantities of such waste, 
+such as are available only in large-scale production; improved machinery whereby materials, formerly 
+useless in their prevailing form, are put into a state fit for new production; scientific progress, particularly 
+of chemistry, which reveals the useful properties of such waste. It is true that great savings of this sort are 
+also observed in small-scale agriculture, as prevails in, say, Lombardy, southern China, and Japan. But 
+on the whole, the productivity of agriculture under this system obtains from the prodigal use of human 
+labour-power, which is withheld from other spheres of production. 
+
+The so-called waste plays an important role in almost every industry. Thus, the Factory Report for 
+December 1 863 mentions as one of the principal reasons why the English and many of the Irish farmers 
+do not like to grow flax, or do so but rarely, "the great waste ... which has taken place at the little water 
+scutch mills ... the waste in cotton is comparatively small, but in flax very large. The efficiency of water 
+steeping and of good machine scotching will reduce this disadvantage very considerably.... Flax, 
+scutched in Ireland in a most shameful way, and a large percentage actually lost by it, equal to 28 or 30 
+per cent" (Reports of Insp. of Fact., Dec. 1863, pp. 139, 142), whereas all this might be avoided through 
+the use of better machinery. So much tow fell by the wayside that the factory inspector reports: "I have 
+been informed with regard to some of the scutch mills in Ireland, that the waste made at them has often 
+been used by the scutchers to burn on their fires at home, and yet it is very valuable" (p. 140 of the above 
+report). We shall speak of cotton waste later, when we deal with the price fluctuations of raw materials. 
+
+The wool industry was shrewder than the flax manufacturers. "It was once the common practice to decry 
+the preparation of waste and woollen rags for re-manufacture, but the prejudice has entirely subsided as 
+regards the shoddy trade, which has become an important branch of the woollen trade of Yorkshire, and 
+doubtless the cotton waste trade will be recognised in the same manner as supplying an admitted want. 
+Thirty years since, woollen rags, i.e., pieces of cloth, old clothes, etc., of nothing but wool, would 
+average about £4 4s. per ton in price: within the last few years they have become worth 
+£44 per ton, and the demand for them has so increased that means have been found for utilising 
+the rags of fabrics of cotton and wool mixed by destroying the cotton and leaving the wool intact, and 
+now thousands of operatives are engaged in the manufacture of shoddy, from which the consumer has 
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 5 
+
+greatly benefited in being able to purchase cloth of a fair and average quality at a very moderate price." 
+(Reports of Insp. of Fact., Oct. 1863, p. 107.) By the end of 1862 the rejuvenated shoddy made up as 
+much as one-third of the entire consumption of wool in English industry. (Reports of Insp. of Fact., 
+October 1862, p. 81.) The "big benefit" for the "consumer" is that his shoddy clothes wear out in just 
+one-third of the previous time and turn threadbare in one-sixth of this time. 
+
+The English silk industry moved along the same downward path. The consumption of genuine raw silk 
+decreased somewhat between 1839 and 1862, while that of silk waste doubled. Improved machinery 
+helped to manufacture a silk useful for many purposes from this otherwise rather worthless stuff. 
+
+The most striking example of utilising waste is furnished by the chemical industry. It utilises not only its 
+own waste, for which it finds new uses, but also that of many other industries. For instance, it converts 
+the formerly almost useless gas-tar into aniline dyes, alizarin, and, more recently, even into drugs. 
+
+This economy of the excretions of production through their re-employment is to be distinguished from 
+economy through the prevention of waste, that is to say, the reduction of excretions of production to a 
+minimum, and the immediate utilisation to a maximum of all raw and auxiliary materials required in 
+production. 
+
+Reduction of waste depends in part on the quality of the machinery in use. Economy in oil, soap, etc., 
+depends on how well the mechanical parts are machined and polished. This refers to the auxiliary 
+materials. In part, however, and this is most important, it depends on the quality of the employed 
+machines and tools whether a larger or smaller portion of the raw material is turned into waste in the 
+production process. Finally, this depends on the quality of the raw material itself. This, in turn, depends 
+partly on the development of the extractive industry and agriculture which produce the raw material 
+(strictly speaking on the progress of civilisation), and partly on the improvement of processes through 
+which raw materials pass before they enter into manufacture. 
+
+"Parmentier has demonstrated that the art of grinding grain has improved very materially in France since 
+a none too distant epoch, for instance the time of Louis XIV, so that the new mills, compared to the old, 
+can make up to half as much more bread from the same amount of grain. The annual consumption of a 
+Parisian, indeed, has first been estimated at 4 setters of grain, then at 3, finally at 2, while nowadays it is 
+only 1 1/3 setters, or about 342 lbs. per capita.... In the Perche, where I have lived for a long time, the 
+crude mills of granite and trap rock millstones have been mostly rebuilt according to the rules of 
+mechanics which has made such rapid progress in the last 30 years. They have been provided with good 
+millstones from La Ferte, have ground the grain twice, the milling sack has been given a circular motion, 
+and the output of flour from the same amount of grain has increased one-sixth. The enormous 
+discrepancy between the daily grain consumption of the Romans and ourselves is therefore easily 
+explained. It is due simply to imperfect methods of milling and bread-making. This is the way I feel I 
+must explain a remarkable observation made by Pliny, XVIII, Ch. 20, 2: .., 'The flour was sold in Rome, 
+depending on its quality, at 40, 48 or 96 as per modius. These prices, so high in proportion to the 
+contemporaneous grain prices, are due to the imperfect state of the mills of that period, which were still 
+in their infancy, and the resultant heavy cost of milling.'" (Dureau de la Malle, Economie Politique dies 
+Romains, Paris, 1840, 1, pp. 280-81.) 
+
+V. ECONOMY THROUGH INVENTIONS 
+
+These savings in the application of fixed capital are, we repeat, due to the employment of the conditions 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 5 
+
+of labour on a large scale; in short, are due to the fact that these serve as conditions of directly social, or 
+socialised labour or direct co-operation within the process of production. On the one hand, this is the 
+indispensable requirement for the utilisation of mechanical and chemical inventions without increasing 
+the price of the commodity, and this is always the conditio sine qua non. On the other hand, only 
+production on a large scale permits the savings derived from co-operative productive consumption. 
+Finally, it is only the experience of the combined labourer which discovers and reveals the where and 
+how of saving, the simplest methods of applying the discoveries, and the ways to overcome the practical 
+frictions arising from carrying out the theory - in its application to the production process - etc. 
+
+Incidentally, a distinction should be made between universal labour and co-operative labour. Both kinds 
+play their role in the process of production, both flow one into the other, but both are also differentiated. 
+Universal labour is all scientific labour, all discovery and all invention. This labour depends partly on the 
+co-operation of the living, and partly on the utilisation of the labours of those who have gone before. 
+Co-operative labour, on the other hand, is the direct co-operation of individuals. 
+
+The foregoing is corroborated by frequent observation, to wit: 
+
+1) The great difference in the cost of the first model of a new machine and that of its reproduction 
+(regarding which, see Ure [The Philosophy of Manufactures, Second edition, London, 1855. - Ed.] and 
+Babbage [On the Economy of Machinery and Manufactures, London, 1832, pp. 280-81. - Ed.]). 
+
+2)The far greater cost of operating an establishment based on a new invention as compared to later 
+establishments arising ex suis ossibus. This is so very true that the trail-blazers generally go bankrupt, 
+and only those who later buy the buildings, machinery, etc., at a cheaper price, make money out of it. It 
+is, therefore, generally the most worthless and miserable sort of money-capitalists who draw the greatest 
+profit out of all new developments of the universal labour of the human spirit and their social application 
+through combined labour. 
+
+FOOTNOTES 
+
+fill "Since in all factories there is a very large amount of fixed capital in buildings and machinery, the 
+greater the number of hours that machinery can be kept at work the greater will be the return." (Reports 
+of Insp. of Fact., 31st October, 1858, p. 8.) 
+
+fl21 Cf. Ure on the progress in factory construction. 
+
+
+
+Transcribed for the Internet by Hinrich Kuhls 
+
+Next: Chapter 6 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 6 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Parti 
+
+THE CONVERSION OF SURPLUS-VALUE INTO PROFIT AND OF THE RATE OF 
+
+SURPLUS-VALUE INTO THE RATE OF PROFIT 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 6 
+
+
+
+The Effect of Price Fluctuation 
+
+
+
+I. FLUCTUATIONS IN THE PRICE OF RAW MATERIALS, AND THEIR DIRECT EFFECTS 
+ON THE RATE OF PROFIT 
+
+The assumption in this case, as in previous ones, is that no change takes place in the rate of 
+surplus-value. It is necessary to analyse the case in its pure form. However, it might be possible for a 
+specific capital, whose rate of surplus-value remains unchanged, to employ an increasing or decreasing 
+number of labourers, in consequence of contraction or expansion caused by such fluctuations in the price 
+of raw materials as we are to analyse here. In that case the quantity of surplus-value might vary, while 
+the rate of surplus-value remains the same. Yet this should also be disregarded here as a side-issue. If 
+improvements of machinery and changes in the price of raw materials simultaneously influence either the 
+number of labourers employed by a definite capital, or the level of wages, one has but to put together 1) 
+the effect caused by the variations of constant capital on the rate of profit, and 2) the effect caused by 
+variations in wages on the rate of profit. The result is then obtained of itself. 
+
+But in general, it should be noted here, as in the previous case, that if variations take place, either due to 
+savings in constant capital, or due to fluctuations in the price of raw materials, they always affect the rate 
+of profit, even if they leave the wage, hence the rate and amount of surplus-value, untouched. They 
+change the magnitude of C in s'(v/C), and thus the value of the whole fraction. It is therefore immaterial, 
+in this case as well — in contrast to what we found in our analysis of surplus-value - in which sphere of 
+production these variations occur; whether or not the production branches affected by them produce 
+necessities for labourers, or constant capital for the production of such necessities. The deductions made 
+here are equally valid for variations occurring in the production of luxury articles, and by luxury articles 
+we here mean all production that does not serve the reproduction of labour-power. 
+
+The raw materials here include auxiliary materials as well, such as indigo, coal, gas, etc. Furthermore, so 
+far as machinery is concerned under this head, its own raw material consists of iron, wood, leather, etc. 
+Its own price is therefore affected by fluctuations in the price of raw materials used in its construction. 
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+
+To the extent that its price is raised through fluctuations, either in the price of the raw materials of which 
+it consists, or of the auxiliary materials consumed in its operation, the rate of profit falls pro tanto. And 
+vice versa. 
+
+In the following analysis we shall confine ourselves to fluctuations in the price of raw materials, not so 
+far as they go to make up the raw materials of machinery serving as means of labour or as auxiliary 
+materials applied in its operation, but in so far as they enter the process in which commodities are 
+produced. There is just one thing to be noted here: the natural wealth in iron, coal, wood, etc., which are 
+the principal elements used in the construction and operation of machinery, presents itself here as a 
+natural fertility of capital and is a factor determining the rate of profit irrespective of the high or low 
+level of wages. 
+
+Since the rate of profit is s/C, or s/(c+v), it is evident that every thing causing a variation in the 
+magnitude of c, and thereby of C, must also bring about a variation in the rate of profit, even if s and v, 
+and their mutual relation, remain unaltered. Now, raw materials are one of the principal components of 
+constant capital. Even in industries which consume no actual raw materials, these enter the picture as 
+auxiliary materials or components of machinery, etc., and their price fluctuations thus accordingly 
+influence the rate of profit. Should the price of raw material fall by an amount = d, then s/C, or s/(c+v) 
+becomes s/(C-d), or s/((c-d)+v). Thus, the rate of profit rises. Conversely, if the price of raw material 
+rises, then s/C, or s/(c+v), becomes s/(C+d), or s/((c+d)+v), and the rate of profit falls. Other conditions 
+being equal, the rate of profit, therefore, falls and rises inversely to the price of raw material. This shows, 
+among other things, how important the low price of raw material is for industrial countries, even if 
+fluctuations in the price of raw materials are not accompanied by variations in the sales sphere of the 
+product, and thus quite aside from the relation of demand to supply. It follows furthermore that foreign 
+trade influences the rate of profit, regardless of its influence on wages through the cheapening of the 
+necessities of life. The point is that it affects the prices of raw or auxiliary materials consumed in 
+industry and agriculture. It is due to an as yet imperfect understanding of the nature of the rate of profit 
+and of its specific difference from the rate of surplus-value that, on the one hand, economists (like 
+Torrens [R. Torrens, An Essay on the Production of Wealth, London, 1821, p. 28 et seq. — Ed.]) wrongly 
+explain the marked influence of the prices of raw material on the rate of profit, which they note through 
+practical experience, and that, on the other, economists like Ricardo [D. Ricardo, On the Principles of 
+Political Economy, and Taxation, Third edition, London, 1821, pp. 131-138. — Ed.], who cling to general 
+principles, do not recognise the influence of, say, world trade on the rate of profit. 
+
+This makes clear the great importance to industry of this elimination or reduction of customs duties on 
+raw materials. The rational development of the protective tariff system made the utmost reduction of 
+import duties on raw materials one of its cardinal principles. This, and the abolition of the duty on corn, 
+was the main object of the English free-traders, who were primarily concerned with having the duty on 
+cotton lifted as well. 
+
+The use of flour in the cotton industry may serve as an illustration of the importance of a price reduction 
+for an article which is not strictly a raw material but an auxiliary and at the same time one of the 
+principal elements of nourishment. As far back as 1837, R. H. Greg 1131 calculated that the 100,000 
+power-looms and 250,000 hand-looms then operating in the cotton-mills of Great Britain annually 
+consumed 41 million lbs. of flour to smooth the warp. He added a third of this quantity for bleaching and 
+other processes, and estimated the total annual value of the flour so consumed at £342,000 for the 
+preceding ten years. A comparison with flour prices on the continent showed that the higher flour price 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 6 
+
+forced upon manufacturers by corn tariffs alone amounted to £170,000 per year. Greg estimated the sum 
+at a minimum of £200,000 for 1837 and cited a firm for which the flour price difference amounted to 
+£1,000 annually. As a result, "great manufacturers, thoughtful, calculating men of business, have said 
+that ten hours' labour would be quite sufficient, if the Corn Laws were repealed". (Reports of Insp. of 
+Fact., Oct. 1848, p. 98.) The Corn Laws were repealed. So were the duties on cotton and other raw 
+materials. But no sooner had this been accomplished than the opposition of the manufacturers to the Ten 
+Hours' Bill became more violent than ever. And when the ten-hour factory day nevertheless became a 
+law soon after, the first result was, a general attempt to reduce wages. 
+
+The value of raw and auxiliary materials passes entirely and all at one time into the value of the product 
+in the manufacture of which they are consumed, while the elements of fixed capital transfer their value to 
+the product only gradually in proportion to their wear and tear. It follows that the price of the product is 
+influenced far more by the price of raw materials than by that of fixed capital, although the rate of profit 
+is determined by the total value of the capital applied no matter how much of it is consumed in the 
+making of the product. But it is evident — although we merely mention it in passing, since we here still 
+assume that commodities are sold at their values, so that price fluctuations caused by competition do not 
+as yet concern us — that the expansion or contraction of the market depends on the price of the individual 
+commodity and is inversely proportional to the rise or fall of this price. It actually develops, therefore, 
+that the price of the product does not rise in proportion to that of the raw material, and that it does not fall 
+in proportion to that of raw material. Consequently, the rate of profit falls lower in one instance, and rises 
+higher in the other than would have been the case if products were sold at their value. 
+
+Further, the quantity and value of the employed machinery grows with the development of labour 
+productivity but not in the same proportion as this productivity, i.e., not in the proportion in which this 
+machinery increases its output. In those branches of industry, therefore, which do consume raw materials, 
+i.e., in which the subject of labour is itself a product of previous labour, the growing productivity of 
+labour is expressed precisely in the proportion in which a larger quantity of raw material absorbs a 
+definite quantity of labour, hence in the increasing amount of raw material converted in, say, one hour 
+into products, or - processed into commodities. The value of raw material, therefore, forms an 
+ever-growing component of the value of the commodity-product in proportion to the development of the 
+productivity of labour, not only because it passes wholly into this latter value, but also because in every 
+aliquot part of the aggregate product the portion representing depreciation of machinery and the portion 
+formed by the newly added labour — both continually decrease. Owing to this falling tendency, the other 
+portion of the value representing raw material increases proportionally, unless this increase is 
+counterbalanced by a proportionate decrease in the value of the raw material arising from the growing 
+productivity of the labour employed in its own production. 
+
+Further, raw and auxiliary materials, just like wages, form parts of the circulating capital and must, 
+therefore, be continually replaced in their entirety through the sale of the product, while only the 
+depreciation is to be renewed in the case of machinery, and first of all in the form of a reserve fund. It is, 
+moreover, in no way essential for each individual sale to contribute its share to this reserve fund, so long 
+as the total annual sales contribute their annual share. This shows again how a rise in the price of raw 
+material can curtail or arrest the entire process of reproduction if the price realised by the sale of the 
+commodities should not suffice to replace all the elements of these commodities. Or, it may make it 
+impossible to continue the process on the scale required by its technical basis, so that only a part of the 
+machinery will remain in operation, or all the machinery will work for only a fraction of the usual time. 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 6 
+
+Finally, the expense incurred through waste varies in direct proportion to the price fluctuations of the raw 
+material, rising, when they rise and falling when they fall. But there is a limit here as well. The Factory 
+Report for April 1850 maintained: "One source of considerable loss arising from an advance in the price 
+of the raw material would hardly occur to any one but a practical spinner, viz., that from waste. I am 
+informed that when cotton advances, the cost to the spinner, of the lower qualities especially, is increased 
+in a ratio beyond the advance actually paid, because the waste made in spinning coarse yarns is fully 15 
+per cent; and this rate, while it causes a loss of l/2d. per lb. on cotton at 3 l/2d. per lb., brings up the loss 
+to Id. per lb. when cotton advances to 7d." (Reports of Insp. of Fact., April 1850, p. 17.) But when, as a 
+result of the American Civil War, the price of cotton rose to a level unequalled in almost 100 years, the 
+report read differently: "The price now given for waste, and its re-introduction in the factory in the shape 
+of cotton waste, go some way to compensate for the difference in the loss by waste, between Surat cotton 
+and American cotton, about 12 1/2 per cent. 
+
+"The waste in working Surat cotton being 25 per cent, the cost of the cotton to the spinner is enhanced 
+one-fourth before he has manufactured it. The loss by waste used not to be of much moment when 
+American cotton was 5d. or 6d. per lb., for it did not exceed 3/4 d. per lb., but it is now of great 
+importance when upon every lb. of cotton which costs 2s. there is a loss by waste equal to 6d." f!41 
+(Reports of Insp. of Fact, Oct. 1863, p. 106.) 
+
+II. APPRECIATION, DEPRECIATION, RELEASE AND TIE-UP OF CAPITAL 
+
+The phenomena analysed in this chapter require for their full development the credit system and 
+competition on the world-market, the latter being the basis and the vital element of capitalist production. 
+These more definite forms of capitalist production can only be comprehensively presented, however, 
+after the general nature of capital is understood. Furthermore, they do not come within the scope of this 
+work and belong to its eventual continuation. Nevertheless the phenomena listed in the above title may 
+be discussed in a general way at this stage. They are interrelated, first with one another and, secondly, 
+also with the rate and amount of profit. They are to be briefly discussed here if only because they create 
+the impression that not only the rate, but also the amount of profit — which is actually identical with the 
+amount of surplus-value - could increase or decrease independently of the movements of the quantity or 
+rate of surplus-value. 
+
+Are we to consider release and tie-up of capital, on the one hand, and its appreciation and depreciation, 
+on the other, as different phenomena? 
+
+The question is what we mean by release and tie-up of capital? Appreciation and depreciation are 
+self-explanatory. All they mean is that a given capital increases or decreases in value as a result of certain 
+general economic conditions, for we are not discussing the particular fate of an individual capital. All 
+they mean, therefore, is that the value of a capital invested in production rises or, falls, irrespective of its 
+self-expansion by virtue of the surplus-labour employed by it. 
+
+By tie-up of capital we mean that certain portions of the total value of the product must be reconverted 
+into elements of constant and variable capital if production is to proceed on the same scale. By release of 
+capital we mean that a portion of the total value of the product which had to be reconverted into constant 
+or variable capital up to a certain time, becomes disposable and superfluous, should production continue 
+on the previous scale. This release or tie-up of capital is different from the release or tie-up of revenue. If 
+the annual surplus-value of an individual capital C is, let us say, equal to x, then a reduction in the price 
+of commodities consumed by the capitalists would make xa sufficient to procure the same enjoyments, 
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+
+etc., as before. A portion of the revenue = a is released, therefore, and may serve either to increase 
+consumption or to be reconverted into capital (for the purpose of accumulation). Conversely, if x+a is 
+needed to continue to live as before, then this standard of living must either be reduced or a portion of the 
+previously accumulated income = a, expended as revenue. 
+
+Appreciation and depreciation may affect either constant or variable capital, or both, and in the case of 
+constant capital it may, in turn, affect either the fixed, or the circulating portion, or both. 
+
+Under constant capital we must consider the raw and auxiliary materials, including semi-finished 
+products, all of which we here include under the term of raw materials, machinery, and other fixed 
+capital. 
+
+In the preceding analysis we referred especially to variations in the price, or the value, of raw materials in 
+respect to their influence on the rate of profit, and determined the general law that with other conditions 
+being equal, the rate of profit is inversely proportional to the value of the raw materials. This is 
+absolutely true for capital newly invested in a business enterprise, in which the investment, i.e., the 
+conversion of money into productive capital, is only just taking place. 
+
+But aside from this capital, which is being newly invested, a large portion of the already functioning 
+capital is in the sphere of circulation, while another portion is in the sphere of production. One portion is 
+in the market in the shape of commodities waiting to be converted into money; another is on hand as 
+money, in whatever form, waiting to be reconverted into elements of production; finally, a third portion 
+is in the sphere of production, partly in its original form of means of production such as raw and auxiliary 
+materials, semi-finished products purchased in the market, machinery and other fixed capital, and partly 
+in the form of products which are in the process of manufacture. The effect of appreciation or 
+depreciation depends here to a great extent on the relative proportion of these component parts. Let us, 
+for the sake of simplicity, leave aside all fixed capital and consider only that portion of constant capital 
+which consists of raw and auxiliary materials, and semi-finished products, and both finished 
+commodities in the market and commodities still in the process of production. 
+
+If the price of raw material, for instance of cotton, rises, then the price of cotton goods — both 
+semi-finished goods like yarn and finished goods like cotton fabrics — manufactured while cotton was 
+cheaper, rises also. So does the value of the unprocessed cotton held in stock, and of the cotton in the 
+process of manufacture. The latter because it comes to represent more labour-time in retrospect and thus 
+adds more than its original value to the product which it enters, and more than the capitalist paid for it. 
+
+Hence, if the price of raw materials rises, and there is a considerable quantity of available finished 
+commodities in the market, no matter what the stage of their manufacture, the value of these 
+commodities rises, thereby enhancing the value of the existing capital. The same is true for the supply of 
+raw materials, etc., in the hands of the producer. This appreciation of value may compensate, or more 
+than compensate, the individual capitalist, or even an entire separate sphere of capitalist production, for 
+the drop in the rate of profit attending a rise in the price of raw materials. Without entering into the 
+detailed effects of competition, we might state for the sake of thoroughness that 1) if available supplies of 
+raw material are considerable, they tend to counteract the price increase which occurred at the place of 
+their origin; 2) if the semi-finished and finished goods press very heavily upon the market, their price is 
+thereby prevented from rising proportionately to the price of their raw materials. 
+
+The reverse takes place when the price of raw material falls. Other circumstances remaining the same, 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 6 
+
+this increases the rate of profit. The commodities in the market, the articles in the process of production, 
+and the available supplies of raw material, depreciate in value and thereby counteract the attendant rise in 
+the rate of profit. 
+
+The effect of price variations for raw materials is the more pronounced, the smaller the supplies available 
+in the sphere of production and in the market at, say, the close of a business year, i.e., after the harvest in 
+agriculture, when great quantities of raw materials are delivered anew. 
+
+We proceed in this entire analysis from the assumption that the rise or fall in prices expresses actual 
+fluctuations in value. But since we are here concerned with the effects such price variations have on the 
+rate of profit, it matters little what is at the bottom of them. The present statements apply equally if prices 
+rise or fall under the influence of the credit system, competition, etc., and not on account of fluctuations 
+in value. 
+
+Since the rate of profit equals the ratio of the excess over the value of the product to the value of the total 
+capital advanced, a rise caused in the rate of profit by a depreciation of the advanced capital would be 
+associated with a loss in the value of capital. Similarly, a drop caused in the rate of profit by an 
+appreciation of the advanced capital might possibly be associated with a gain. 
+
+As for the other portion of constant capital, such as machinery and fixed capital in general, the 
+appreciation of value taking place in it with respect mainly to buildings, real estate, etc., cannot be 
+discussed without the theory of ground-rent, and does not therefore belong in this chapter. But of a 
+general importance to the question of depreciation are: 
+
+The continual improvements which lower the use-value, and therefore the value, of existing machinery, 
+factory buildings, etc. This process has a particularly dire effect during the first period of newly 
+introduced machinery, before it attains a certain stage of maturity, when it continually becomes 
+antiquated before it has time to reproduce its own value. This is one of the reasons for the flagrant 
+prolongation of the working-time usual in such periods, for alternating day and night-shifts, so that the 
+value of the machinery may be reproduced in a shorter time without having to place the figures for wear 
+and tear too high. If, on the other hand, the short period in which the machinery is effective (its short life 
+vis-a-vis the anticipated improvements) is not compensated in this manner, it gives up so much of its 
+value to the product through moral depreciation that it cannot compete even with hand-labour. \ 151 
+
+After machinery, equipment of buildings, and fixed capital in general, attain a certain maturity, so that 
+they remain unaltered for some length of time at least in their basic construction, there arises a similar 
+depreciation due to improvements in the methods of reproducing this fixed capital. The value of the 
+machinery, etc., falls in this case not so much because the machinery is rapidly crowded out and 
+depreciated to a certain degree by new and more productive machinery, etc., but because it can be 
+reproduced more cheaply. This is one of the reasons why large enterprises frequently do not flourish until 
+they pass into other hands, i.e., after their first proprietors have been bankrupted, and their successors, 
+who buy them cheaply, therefore begin from the outset with a smaller outlay of capital. 
+
+It leaps to the eye, particularly in the case of agriculture, that the causes which raise or lower the price of 
+a product, also raise or lower the value of capital, since the latter consists to a large degree of this 
+product, whether as grain, cattle, etc. (Ricardo [D. Ricardo, On the Principles of Political Economy, and 
+Taxation, Third edition, London, 1821, Chapter II. — Ed.]). 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 6 
+
+There is still variable capital to be considered. 
+
+Inasmuch as the value of labour-power rises because there is a rise in the value of the means of 
+subsistence required for its reproduction, or falls because there is a reduction in their value - and the 
+appreciation and depreciation of variable capital are really nothing more than expressions of these two 
+cases — a drop in surplus-value corresponds to such appreciation and an increase in surplus-value to such 
+depreciation, provided the length of the working-day remains the same. But other circumstances — the 
+release and tie-up of capital — may also be associated with such cases, and since we have not analysed 
+them so far, we shall briefly mention them now. 
+
+If wages fall in consequence of a depreciation in the value of labour-power (which may even be attended 
+by a rise in the real price of labour), a portion of the capital hitherto invested in wages is released. 
+Variable capital is set free. In the case of new investments of capital, this has simply the effect of its 
+operating with a higher rate of surplus-value. It takes less money than before to set in motion the same 
+amount of labour, and in this way the unpaid portion of labour increases at the expense of the paid 
+portion. But in the case of already invested capital, not only does the rate of surplus-value rise but a 
+portion of the capital previously invested in wages is also released. Until this time it was tied up and 
+formed a regular portion which had to be deducted from the proceeds for the product and advanced for 
+wages, acting as variable capital if the business were to continue on its former scale. Now this portion is 
+set free and may be used as a new investment, be it to extend the same business or to operate in some 
+other sphere of production. 
+
+Let us assume, for instance, that £500 per week were required at first to employ 500 labourers, and that 
+now only £400 are needed for the same purpose. If the quantity of value produced in either case = 
+£1,000, the amount of weekly surplus-value in the first case = £500 and the rate of surplus-value 
+500/500=100%. But after the wage reduction the quantity of surplus-value £1,000£400=£600, and its rate 
+600/400=150%. And this increase in the rate of surplus-value is the only effect for one who starts a new 
+enterprise in this sphere of production with a variable capital of £400 and a corresponding constant 
+capital. But when this takes place in a business already in operation, the depreciation of the variable 
+capital does not only increase the quantity of surplus-value from £500 to £600, and the rate of 
+surplus-value from 100 to 150%, but releases £100 of the variable capital for the further exploitation of 
+labour. Hence, the same amount of labour is exploited to greater advantage, and, what is more, the 
+release of £100 makes it possible to exploit more labourers than before at the higher rate with the same 
+variable capital of £500. 
+
+Now the reverse situation. Suppose, with 500 employed labourers, the original proportion in which the 
+product is divided = 400v+600s= 1,000, making the rate of surplus-value = 150%. In that case, the 
+labourer receives £4/5 , or 16 shillings per week. Should 500 labourers cost £500 per week, due to an 
+appreciation of variable capital, each one of them will receive a weekly wage = £1, and £400 can employ 
+only 400 labourers. If the same number of labourers as before is put to work, therefore, we have 
+500v+500s= 1,000. The rate of surplus-value would fall from 150 to 100%, which is one-third. In the case 
+of new capital the only effect would be this lower rate of surplus-value. Other conditions being equal, the 
+rate of profit would also have fallen accordingly, although not in the same proportion. For instance, if 
+c=2,000, we have in the one case 2,000c+400v+600s=3,000. The rate of surplus-value = 150%, the rate 
+of profit = 600/2,400=25%. In the second case, 2,000c+500v+500s=3,000. The rate of surplus-value = 
+100%, the rate of profit = 500/2,500=20%. In the case of already invested capital, however, there would 
+be a dual effect. Only 400 labourers could be employed with a £400 variable capital, and that at a rate of 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 6 
+
+surplus-value of 100%. They would therefore produce an aggregate surplus- value of only £400. 
+Furthermore, since a constant capital of £2,000 requires 500 labourers for its operation, 400 labourers can 
+put into motion only a constant capital of £1,600. For production to continue on the same scale, so that 
+one-fifth of the machinery does not stand idle, £100 must be added to the variable capital in order to 
+employ 500 labourers as before. And this can be accomplished only by tying up hitherto disposable 
+capital, so that part of the accumulation intended to extend production serves merely to stop a gap, or a 
+portion reserved for revenue is added to the old capital. Then a variable capital increased by £100 
+produces £100 less surplus-value. More capital is required to employ the same number of labourers, and 
+at the same time the surplus-value produced by each labourer is reduced. 
+
+The advantages resulting from a release and the disadvantages resulting from a tie-up of variable capital 
+both exist only for capital already engaged and reproducing itself under certain given conditions. For 
+newly invested capital the advantages on the one hand, and the disadvantages on the other, are confined 
+to an increase or drop in the rate of surplus-value, and to a corresponding, if in no way proportionate, 
+change in the rate of profit. 
+
+
+
+The release and tie-up of variable capital, just analysed, is the result of a depreciation or appreciation of 
+the elements of variable capital, that is, of the cost of reproducing labour-power. 
+
+But variable capital could also be released if, with the wage rate unchanged, fewer labourers were 
+required due to the development of labour productivity to set in motion the same amount of constant 
+capital. In like manner, there may reversely be a tie-up of additional variable capital if more labourers are 
+required for the same quantity of constant capital due to a drop in productivity. If, on the other hand, a 
+portion of capital formerly employed as variable capital is employed in the form of constant capital, so 
+that merely a different distribution exists between the components of the same capital, this has an 
+influence on both the rate of surplus-value and the rate of profit, but does not belong under the heading of 
+tie-up and release of capital, which is here being discussed. 
+
+We have already seen that constant capital may also be tied up or released by the appreciation or 
+depreciation of its component elements. Aside from this, it can be tied up only if the productive power of 
+labour increases (provided a portion of the variable is not converted into constant capital), so that the 
+same amount of labour creates a greater product and therefore sets in motion a larger constant capital. 
+The same may occur under certain circumstances if productivity decreases, for instance in agriculture, so 
+that the same quantity of labour requires more means of production, such as seeds or manure, drainage, 
+etc., in order to produce the same output. Constant capital may be released without depreciation if 
+improvements, utilisation of the forces of Nature, etc., enable a constant capital of smaller value to 
+technically perform the same services as were formerly performed by a constant capital of greater value. 
+
+We have seen in Book II [English edition: Vol. II, Part III. - Ed.] that once commodities have been 
+converted into money, or sold, a certain portion of this money must be reconverted into the material 
+elements of constant capital, and in the proportions required by the technical nature of the particular 
+sphere of production. In this respect, the most important element in all branches - aside from wages, i.e., 
+variable capital — is raw material, including auxiliary material, which is particularly important in such 
+lines of production as do not involve raw materials in the strict sense of the term, for instance in mining 
+and the extractive industries in general. That portion of the price which is to make good the wear and tear 
+of machinery enters the accounts chiefly nominally so long as the machinery is at all in an operating 
+condition. It does not greatly matter whether it is paid for and replaced by money one day or the next, or 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 6 
+
+at any other stage of the period of turnover of the capital. It is quite different in the case of the raw 
+material. If the price of raw material rises, it may be impossible to make it good fully out of the price of 
+the commodities after wages are deducted. Violent price fluctuations therefore cause interruptions, great 
+collisions, even catastrophes, in the process of reproduction. It is especially agricultural produce proper, 
+i.e., raw materials taken from organic nature, which - leaving aside the credit system for the present - is 
+subject to such fluctuations of value in consequence of changing yields, etc. Due to uncontrollable 
+natural conditions, favourable or unfavourable seasons, etc., the same quantity of labour may be 
+represented in very different quantities of use-values, and a definite quantity of these use-values may 
+therefore have very different prices. If the value x is represented by 100 lbs. of the commodity a, then the 
+price of one lb. of a=x/100; if it is represented by 1,000 lbs. of a, the price of one lb. of a=x/l,000, etc. 
+This is therefore one of the elements of these fluctuations in the price of raw materials. A second 
+element, mentioned at this point only for the sake of completeness — since competition and the credit 
+system are still outside the scope of our analysis - is this: It is, in the nature of things that vegetable and 
+animal substances whose growth and production are subject to certain organic laws and bound up with 
+definite natural time periods, cannot be suddenly augmented in the same degree as, for instance, 
+machines and other fixed capital, or coal, ore, etc., whose reproduction can, provided the natural 
+conditions do not change, be rapidly accomplished in an industrially developed country. It is therefore 
+quite possible, and under a developed system of capitalist production even inevitable, that the production 
+and increase of the portion of constant capital consisting of fixed capital, machinery, etc., should 
+considerably outstrip the portion consisting of organic raw materials, so that demand for the latter grows 
+more rapidly than their supply, causing their price to rise. Rising prices actually cause 1) these raw 
+materials to be shipped from greater distances, since the mounting prices suffice to cover greater freight 
+rates; 2) an increase in their production, which circumstance, however, will probably not, for natural 
+reasons, multiply the quantity of products until the following year; 3) the use of various previously 
+unused substitutes and greater utilisation of waste. When this rise of prices begins to exert a marked 
+influence on production and supply it indicates in most cases that the turning point has been reached at 
+which demand drops on account of the protracted rise in the price of the raw material and of all 
+commodities of which it is an element, causing a reaction in the price of raw material. Aside from the 
+convulsions which this causes in various forms through depreciation of capital, there are also other 
+circumstances, which we shall mention shortly. 
+
+But so much is already evident from the foregoing: The greater the development of capitalist production, 
+and, consequently, the greater the means of suddenly and permanently increasing that portion of constant 
+capital consisting of machinery, etc., and the more rapid the accumulation (particularly in times of 
+prosperity), so much greater the relative over-production of machinery and other fixed capital, so much 
+more frequent the relative under-production of vegetable and animal raw materials, and so much more 
+pronounced the previously described rise of their prices and the attendant reaction. And so much more 
+frequent are the convulsions caused as they are by the violent price fluctuations of one of the main 
+elements in the process of reproduction. 
+
+If, however, a collapse of these high prices occurs because their rise caused a drop in demand on the one 
+hand, and, on the other, an expansion of production in one place and in another importation from remote 
+and previously less resorted to, or entirely ignored, production areas, and, in both cases, a supply of raw 
+materials exceeding the demand — particularly at the old high prices — then the result may be considered 
+from different points of view. The sudden collapse of the price of raw materials checks their 
+reproduction, and the monopoly of the original producing countries, which enjoy the most favourable 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 6 
+
+conditions of production, is thereby restored - possibly with certain limitations, but restored nevertheless. 
+True, due to the impetus it has had, reproduction of raw material proceeds on an extended scale, 
+especially in those countries which more or less possess a monopoly of this production. But the basis on 
+which production carries on after the extension of machinery, etc., and which, after some fluctuations, is 
+to serve as the new normal basis, the new point of departure, is very much extended by the developments 
+in the preceding cycle of turnover. In the meantime, the barely increased reproduction again experiences 
+considerable impediments in some of the secondary sources of supply. For instance, it is easily 
+demonstrated on the basis of the export tables that in the last thirty years (up to 1865) the production of 
+cotton in India increases whenever there has been a drop in American production, and subsequently it 
+drops again more or less permanently. During the period in which raw materials become dear, industrial 
+capitalists join hands and form associations to regulate production. They did so after the rise of cotton 
+prices in 1848 in Manchester, for example, and similarly in the case of flax production in Ireland. But as 
+soon as the immediate impulse is over and the general principle of competition to "buy in the cheapest 
+market" (instead of stimulating production in the countries of origin, as the associations attempt to do, 
+without regard to the immediate price at which these may happen at that time to be able to supply their 
+product) — as soon as the principle of competition again reigns supreme, the regulation of the supply is 
+left once again to "prices". All thought of a common, all-embracing and far-sighted control of the 
+production of raw materials gives way once more to the faith that demand and supply will mutually 
+regulate one another. And it must be admitted that such control is on the whole irreconcilable with the 
+laws of capitalist production, and remains for ever a pious wish, or is limited to exceptional co-operation 
+in times of great stress and confusion. \ 161 The superstition of the capitalists in this respect is so deep that 
+in their reports even factory inspectors again and again throw up their hands in astonishment. The 
+alternation of good and bad years naturally also provides for cheaper raw materials. Aside from the direct 
+effect this has on raising the demand, there is also the added stimulus of the previously mentioned 
+influence on the rate of profit. The aforesaid process of production of raw materials being gradually 
+overtaken by the production of machinery, etc., is then repeated on a larger scale. An actual improvement 
+of raw materials satisfying not only the desired quantity, but also the quality desired, such as cotton from 
+India of American quality, would require a prolonged, regularly growing and steady European demand 
+(regardless of the economic conditions under which the Indian producer labours in his country). As it is, 
+however, the sphere of production of raw materials is, by fits, first suddenly enlarged, and then again 
+violently curtailed. All this, and the spirit of capitalist production in general, may be very well studied in 
+the cotton shortage of 186165, further characterised as it was by the fact that a raw material, one of the 
+principal elements of reproduction, was for a time entirely unavailable. To be sure, the price may also 
+rise in the event of an abundant supply, provided the conditions for this abundance are more knotty. Or, 
+there may be an actual shortage of raw material. It was this last situation which originally prevailed in the 
+cotton crisis. 
+
+The closer we approach our own time in the history of production, the more regularly do we find, 
+especially in the essential lines of industry, the ever-recurring alternation between relative appreciation 
+and the subsequent resulting depreciation of raw materials obtained from organic nature. What we have 
+just analysed will be illustrated by the following examples taken from reports of factory inspectors. 
+
+The moral of history, also to be deduced from other observations concerning agriculture, is that the 
+capitalist system works against a rational agriculture, or that a rational agriculture is incompatible with 
+the capitalist system (although the latter promotes technical improvements in agriculture), and needs 
+either the hand of the small farmer living by his own labour or the control of associated producers. 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 6 
+
+Herewith follow the illustrations referred to above, taken from the English Factory Reports. 
+
+"The state of trade is better; but the cycle of good and bad times diminishes as machinery increases, and 
+the changes from the one to the other happen oftener, as the demand for raw materials increases with it... 
+At present, confidence is not only restored after the panic of 1857, but the panic itself seems to be almost 
+forgotten. Whether this improvement will continue or not depends greatly upon the price of raw 
+materials. There appear to me evidences already, that in some instances the maximum has been reached, 
+beyond which their manufacture becomes gradually less and less profitable, till it ceases to be so 
+altogether. If we take, for instance, the lucrative years in the worsted trade of 1849 and 1850, we see that 
+the price of English combing wool stood at Is. Id., and of Australian at between Is. 2d. and Is. 5d. per 
+lb., and that on the average of the ten years from 1841 to 1850, both inclusive, the average price of 
+English wool never exceeded Is. 2d. and of Australian wool Is. 5d. per lb. But that in the 
+commencement of the disastrous year of 1857, the price of Australian wool began with Is. 1 Id., falling 
+to Is. 6d. in December, when the panic was at its height, but has gradually risen again to Is. 9d. through 
+1858, at which it now stands; whilst that of English wool, commencing with Is. 8d., and rising in April 
+and September 1857 to Is. 9d., falling in January 1858 to Is. 2d., has since risen to Is. 5d., which is 3d. 
+per lb. higher than the average of the ten years to which I have referred... This shows, I think, one of 
+three things — either that the bankruptcies which similar prices occasioned in 1857 are forgotten; or that 
+there is barely the wool grown which the existing spindles are capable of consuming; or else, that the 
+prices of manufactured articles are about to be permanently higher... And as in past experience I have 
+seen spindles and looms multiply both in numbers and speed in an incredibly short space of time, and our 
+exports of wool to France increase in an almost equal ratio, and as both at home and abroad the age of 
+sheep seems to be getting less and less, owing to increasing populations and to what the agriculturalists 
+call 'a quick return in stock', so I have often felt anxious for persons whom, without this knowledge, I 
+have seen embarking skill and capital in undertakings, wholly reliant for their success on a product which 
+can only be increased according to organic laws. ... The same state of supply and demand of all raw 
+materials ... seems to account for many of the fluctuations in the cotton trade during past periods, as well 
+as for the condition of the English wool market in the autumn of 1857, with its overwhelming 
+consequences." |171 (R. Baker in Reports of Insp. of Fact, Oct. 1858, pp. 56-61.) 
+
+The halcyon days of the West-Riding worsted industry, of Yorkshire, were 1849-50. This industry 
+employed 29,246 persons in 1838; 37,000 persons in 1843; 48,097 in 1845; and 74,891 in 1850. The 
+same district had 2,768 mechanical looms in 1838; 11,458 in 1841; 16,870 in 1843; 19,121 in 1845 and 
+29,539 in 1850. (Reports of Insp. of Fact., 1850, p. 60.) This prosperity of the carded wool industry 
+excited certain forebodings as early as October 1850. In his report for April 1851, Sub-Inspector Baker 
+said in regard to Leeds and Bradford: "The state of trade is, and has been for some time, very 
+unsatisfactory. The worsted spinners are fast losing the profits of 1850, and, in the majority of cases, the 
+manufacturers are not doing much good. I believe, at this moment, there is more woollen machinery 
+standing than I have almost ever known at one time, and the flax spinners are also turning off hands and 
+stopping frames. The cycles of trade, in fact, in the textile fabrics, are now extremely uncertain, and I 
+think we shall shortly find to be true ... that there is no comparison made between the producing power of 
+the spindles, the quantity of raw material, and the growth of the population" (p. 52). 
+
+The same is true of the cotton industry. In the cited report for October 1858, we read: "Since the hours of 
+labour in factories have been fixed, the amounts of consumption, produce, and wages in all textile fabrics 
+have been reduced to a rule of three. ... I quote from a recent lecture delivered by ... the present Mayor of 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 6 
+
+Blackburn, Mr. Baynes, on the cotton trade, who by such means has reduced the cotton statistics of his 
+own neighbourhood to the closest approximation: — 
+
+'"Each real and mechanical horse-power will drive 450 self-acting mule spindles with preparation, or 200 
+throstle spindles, or 15 looms for 40 inches cloth, with winding, warping, and sizing. Each horse-power 
+in spinning will give employment to 2 1/2 operatives, but in weaving to 10 persons, at wages averaging 
+full 10s. 6d. a week to each person. ... The average counts of yarn spun and woven are from 30s. to 32s. 
+twist, and 34s. to 36s. weft yarns; and taking the spinning production at 13 ounces per spindle per week, 
+will give 824,700 lbs. yarn spun per week, requiring 970,000 lbs. or 2,300 bales of cotton, at a cost of 
+£28,300... The total cotton consumed in this district (within a five-mile radius round Blackburn) per 
+week is 1,530,000 lbs., or 3,650 bales, at a cost of £44,625... This is one-eighteenth of the whole cotton 
+spinning of the United Kingdom, and one-sixth of the whole power-loom weaving.' 
+
+"Thus we see that, according to Mr. Baynes's calculations, the total number of cotton spindles in the 
+United Kingdom is 28,800,000, and supposing these to be always working full time, that the annual 
+consumption of cotton ought to be 1,432,080,000 lbs. But as the import of cotton, less the export in 1856 
+and 1857, was only 1,022,576,832 lbs., there must necessarily be a deficiency of supply equal to 
+409,503,168 lbs. Mr. Baynes, however, who has been good enough to communicate with me on this 
+subject, thinks that an annual consumption of cotton based upon the quantity used in the Blackburn 
+district would be liable to be overcharged, owing to the difference, not only in the counts spun, but in the 
+excellence of the machinery. He estimates the total annual consumption of cotton in the United Kingdom 
+at 1,000,000,000 lbs. But if he is right, and there really is an excess of supply equal to 22,576,832 lbs., 
+supply and demand seem to be nearly balanced already, without taking into consideration those 
+additional spindles and looms which Mr. Baynes speaks of as getting ready for work in his own district, 
+and, by parity of reasoning, probably in other districts also" (pp. 59, 60). 
+
+III. GENERAL ILLUSTRATION. THE COTTON CRISIS OF 1861-65 
+Preliminary History. 1845-60 
+
+1845. The golden age of cotton industry. Price of cotton very low. L. Horner says on this point: "For the 
+last eight years I have not known so active a state of trade as has prevailed during the last summer and 
+autumn, particularly in cotton spinning. Throughout the half-year I have been receiving notices every 
+week of new investments of capital in factories, either in the form of new mills being built, of the few 
+that were untenanted finding occupiers, of enlargements of existing mills, of new engines of increased 
+power, and of manufacturing machinery." (Reports of Insp. of Fact., Oct. 1845, p. 13.) 
+
+1846. The complaints begin: "For a considerable time past I have heard from the occupiers of cotton 
+mills very general complaints of the depressed state of their trade... for within the last six weeks several 
+mills have begun to work short time, usually eight hours a day instead of twelve; this appears to be on the 
+increase... There has been a great advance in the price of the raw material... there has been not only no 
+advance in the manufactured articles, but ... prices are lower than they were before the rise in cotton 
+began. From the great increase in the number of cotton mills within the last four years, there must have 
+been, on the one hand, a greatly increased demand for the raw material, and, on the other, a greatly 
+increased supply in the market of the manufactured articles; causes that must concurrently have operated 
+against profits, supposing the supply of the raw material and the consumption of the manufactured article 
+to have remained unaltered; but, of course, in the greater ratio by the late short supply of cotton, and the 
+falling off in the demand for the manufactured articles in several markets, both home and foreign. 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 6 
+
+(Reports of Insp. of Fact., Oct. 1846, p. 10.) 
+
+The rising demand for raw materials naturally went hand in hand with a market flooded with 
+manufactures. By the way, the expansion of industry at that time and the subsequent stagnation were not 
+confined to the cotton districts. The carded wool district of Bradford had only 318 factories in 1836 and 
+490 in 1846. These figures do not by any means express the actual growth of production, since the 
+existing factories were also considerably enlarged. This was particularly true of the flax spinning-mills. 
+"All have contributed more or less, during the last ten years, to the overstocking of the market, to which a 
+great part of the present stagnation of trade must be attributed... The depression... naturally results from 
+such rapid increase of mills and machinery." (Reports of Insp. of Fact., Oct. 1846, p. 30.) 
+
+1847. In October, a money panic. Discount 8%. This was preceded by the debacle of the railway swindle 
+and the East Indian speculation in accommodation bills. But: 
+
+"Mr. Baker enters into very interesting details respecting the increased demand, in the last few years, for 
+cotton, wool, and flax, owing to the great extension of these trades. He considers the increased demand 
+for these raw materials, occurring, as it has, at a period when the produce has fallen much below an 
+average supply, as almost sufficient, even without reference to the monetary derangement, to account for 
+the present state of these branches. This opinion is fully confirmed, by my own observations, and 
+conversation with persons well acquainted with trade. Those several branches were all in a very 
+depressed state, while discounts were readily obtained at and under 5 per cent. The supply of raw silk 
+has, on the contrary, been abundant, the prices moderate, and the trade, consequently, very active, til... 
+the last two or three weeks, when there is no doubt the monetary derangement has affected not only the 
+persons actually engaged in the manufacture, but more extensively still, the manufacturers of fancy 
+goods, who were great customers to the throwster. A reference to published returns shows that the cotton 
+trade had increased nearly 27 per cent in the last three years. Cotton has consequently increased, in round 
+numbers, from 4d. to 6d. per lb., while twist, in consequence of the increased supply, is yet only a 
+fraction above its former price. The woollen trade began its increase in 1836, since which Yorkshire has 
+increased its manufacture of this article 40 per cent, but Scotland exhibits a yet greater increase. The 
+increase of the worsted trade f 181 is still larger. Calculations give a result of upwards of 74 per cent 
+increase within the same period. The consumption of raw wool has therefore been immense. Flax has 
+increased since 1839 about 25 per cent in England, 22 per cent in Scotland, and nearly 90 per cent in 
+Ireland [19] ; the consequence of this, in connexion with bad crops, has been that the raw material has 
+gone up £10 per ton, while the price of yarn has fallen 6d. a bundle." (Reports of Insp. of Fact., Oct. 
+1847, pp. 30-3t.) 
+
+1849. Since late in 1848 business revived. "The price of flax which has been so low as to almost 
+guarantee a reasonable profit under any future circumstances, has induced the manufacturers to carry on 
+their work very steadily... The woollen manufacturers were exceedingly busy for a while in the early part 
+of the year... I fear that consignments of woollen goods often take the place of real demand, and that 
+periods of apparent prosperity, i.e., of full work, are not always periods of legitimate demand. In some 
+months the worsted has been exceedingly good, in fact flourishing... At the commencement of the period 
+referred to, wool was exceedingly low; what was bought by the spinners was well bought, and no doubt 
+in considerable quantities. When the price of wool rose with the spring wool sales, the spinner had the 
+advantage, and the demand for manufactured goods becoming considerable and imperative, they kept it. 
+" (Reports of Insp. of Fact., April 1849, p. 42.) 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 6 
+
+"If we look at the variations in the state of trade, which have occurred in the manufacturing districts of 
+the kingdom for a period now of between three and four years, I think we must admit the existence of a 
+great disturbing cause somewhere ... but may not the immensely productive power of increased 
+machinery have added another element to the same cause? " (Reports of Insp. of Fact., April 1849, pp. 
+42,43.) 
+
+In November 1848, and in May and summer of 1849, right up to October, business flourished. "The 
+worsted stuff of trade, of which Bradford and Halifax are the great hives of industry, has been the one 
+most active; this trade has never before reached anything like the extent, to which it has now attained... 
+Speculation, and uncertainty as to the probable supply of cotton wool, have ever had the effect of causing 
+greater excitement, and more frequent alterations in the state of that branch of manufacture, than any 
+other. There is ... at present an accumulation in stock of the coarser kinds of cotton goods, which creates 
+anxiety on the part of the smaller spinners, and is already acting to their detriment, having caused several 
+of them to work their mills short time. " (Reports of Insp. of Fact., Oct. 1849, pp. 64-65.) 
+
+1850. April. Business continued brisk. The exception: "The great depression in a part of the cotton 
+trade... attributable to the scarcity in the supply of the raw material more especially adapted to the branch 
+engaged in spinning low numbers of cotton yarns, or manufacturing heavy cotton goods. A fear is 
+entertained that the increased machinery built recently for the worsted trade, may be followed with a 
+similar reaction. Mr. Baker computes that in the year 1849 alone the worsted looms have increased their 
+produce 40 per cent, and the spindles 25 or 30 per cent, and they are still increasing at the same rate. " 
+(Reports of Insp. of Fact., April 1850, p. 54.) 
+
+1850. October. "The high price of raw cotton continues... to cause a considerable depression in this 
+branch of manufacture, especially in those descriptions of goods in which the raw material constitutes a 
+considerable part of the cost of production... The great advance in the price of raw silk has likewise 
+caused a depression in many branches of that manufacture. " (Reports, of Insp. of Fact., Oct. 1850, p. 
+14.) 
+
+And on pages 31 and 33 of the same report we learn that the Committee of the Royal Society for the 
+Promotion and Improvement of the Growth of Flax in Ireland predicted that the high price of flax, 
+together with the low level of prices for other agricultural products, ensured a considerable increase in 
+flax production in the ensuing year. 
+
+1853. April. Great prosperity. L. Horner says in his report: "At no period during the last seventeen years 
+that I have been officially acquainted with the manufacturing districts in Lancashire have I known such 
+general prosperity; the activity in every branch is extraordinary." (Reports of Insp. of Fact., April 1853, 
+p. 19.) 
+
+1853. October. Depression in the cotton industry. "Over-production." (Reports of Insp. of Fact., Oct. 
+
+1853, p. 15.) 
+
+1854. April. "The woollen trade, although not brisk, has given full employment to all the factories 
+engaged upon that fabric, and a similar remark applies to the cotton factories. The worsted trade 
+generally has been in an uncertain and unsatisfactory condition during the whole of the last half-year... 
+The manufacture of flax and hemp are more likely to be seriously impeded, by reason of the diminished 
+supplies of the raw materials from Russia due to the Crimean war." (Reports of Insp. of Fact., April 
+1854, p. 37.) 
+
+
+
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+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 6 
+
+1859. "The trade in the Scottish flax districts still continues depressed — the raw material being scarce, as 
+well as high in price; and the inferior quality of the last year's crop in the Baltic, from whence come our 
+principal supplies, will have an injurious effect on the trade of the district; jute, however, which is 
+gradually superseding flax in many of the coarser fabrics, is neither unusually high in price, nor scarce in 
+quantity ... about one-half of the machinery in Dundee is now employed in jute spinning. " (Reports of 
+Insp. of Fact., April 1859, p. 19.) - "Owing to the high price of the raw material, flax spinning is still far 
+from remunerating, and while all the other mills are going full time, there are several instances of the 
+stoppage of flax machinery... Jute spinning is ... in a rather more satisfactory state, owing to the recent 
+decline in the price of material, which has now fallen to a very moderate point." (Reports of Insp. of 
+Fact., Oct. 1859, p. 20.) 
+
+1861-64. American Civil War. Cotton Famine. The Greatest Example of an Interruption in the 
+Production Process through Scarcity and Dearness of Raw Material 
+
+1860. April. "With respect to the state of trade, I am happy to be able to inform you that, notwithstanding 
+the high price of raw material, all the textile manufactures, with the exception of silk, have been fairly 
+busy during the past half-year... In some of the cotton districts hands have been advertised for, and have 
+migrated thither from Norfolk and other rural counties... There appears to be, in every branch of trade, a 
+great scarcity of raw material. It is ... the want of it alone, which keeps us within bounds. In the cotton 
+trade, the erection of new mills, the formation of new systems of extension, and the demand for hands, 
+can scarcely, I think, have been at any time exceeded. Everywhere there are new movements in search of 
+raw material." (Reports of Insp. of Fact., April 1860, p. 57.) 
+
+1860. October. "The state of trade in the cotton, woollen, and flax districts as been good; indeed in 
+Ireland, it is stated to have been 'very good' for now more than a year; and that it would have been still 
+better, but for the high price of raw material. The flax spinners appear to be looking with more anxiety 
+than ever to the opening out of India by railways, and to the development of its agriculture, for a supply 
+of flax which may be commensurate with their wants. " (Reports of Insp. of Fact., Oct. 1860, p. 37.) 
+
+1861. April. "The state of trade is at present depressed... A few cotton mills are running short time, and 
+many silk mills are only partially employed. Raw material is high. In almost every branch of textile 
+manufacture it is above the price at which it can be manufactured for the masses of the consumers." 
+(Reports of Insp. of Fact, April 1861, p. 33.) 
+
+It had become evident that in 1860 the cotton industry had overproduced. The effect of this made itself 
+felt during the next few years. "It has taken between two and three years to absorb the over-production of 
+1860 in the markets of the world." (Reports of Insp. of Fact., December 1863, p. 127.) "The depressed 
+state of the markets for cotton manufactures in the East, early in 1 860, had a corresponding effect upon 
+the trade of Blackburn, in which 30,000 power-looms are usually employed almost exclusively in the 
+production of cloth to be consumed in the East. There was consequently but a limited demand for labour 
+for many months prior to the effects of the cotton blockade being felt... Fortunately this preserved many 
+of the spinners and manufacturers from being involved in the common ruin. Stocks increased in value so 
+long as they were held, and there had been consequently nothing like that alarming depreciation in the 
+value of property which might not unreasonably have been looked for in such a crisis. " (Reports of Insp. 
+of Fact., Oct. 1862, pp. 29, 31.) 
+
+1861. October. "Trade has been for some time in a very depressed state... It is not improbable indeed that 
+during the winter months many establishments will be found to work very short time. This might, 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 6 
+
+however, have been anticipated ... irrespective of the causes which have interrupted our usual supplies of 
+cotton from America and our exports, short time must have been kept during the ensuing winter in 
+consequence of the great increase of production during the last three years, and the unsettled state of the 
+Indian and Chinese markets." (Reports of Insp. of Fact., Oct. 1861, p. 19.) 
+
+Cotton Waste. East Indian Cotton (Surat). Influence on the Wages of Labourers. Improvement of 
+
+Machinery. Adding Starch Flour and Mineral Substitutes to Cotton. Effect of Starch Flour Sizing on 
+
+Labourers. Manufacturers of Finer Yarn Grades. Manufacturers' Fraud 
+
+"A manufacturer writes to me thus: 'As to estimates of consumption per spindle, I doubt if you take 
+sufficiently into calculation the fact that when cotton is high in price, every spinner of ordinary yarns 
+(say up to 40s.) (principally 12s. to 32s.) will raise his counts as much as he can, that is, will spin 16s. 
+where he used to spin 12s., or 22s. in the place of 16s., and so on; and the manufacturer using these fine 
+yarns will make his cloth the usual weight by the addition of so much more size. The trade is availing 
+itself of this resource at present to an extent which is even discreditable. I have heard on good authority 
+of ordinary export shirting weighing 8 lbs. which was made of 5 1/4 lbs. cotton and 2 3/4 lbs. size... In 
+cloths of other descriptions as much as 50 per cent size is sometimes added; so that a manufacturer may 
+and does truly boast that he is getting rich by selling cloth for less money per pound than he paid for the 
+mere yarn of which they are composed.'" (Reports of Insp. of Fact., April 1864, p. 27.) 
+
+"I have also received statements that the weavers attribute increased sickness to the size which is used in 
+dressing the warps of Surat cotton, and which is not made of the same material as formerly, viz., flour. 
+This substitute for flour is said, however, to have the very important advantage of increasing greatly the 
+weight of the cloth manufactured, making 15 lbs. of the raw material to weigh 20 lbs. when woven into 
+cloth." (Reports of Insp. of Fact., Oct. 1863. This substitute was ground talcum, called China clay, or 
+gypsum, called French chalk.) "The earnings of the weavers (meaning the operatives) are much reduced 
+from the employment of substitutes for flour as sizing for warps. This sizing, which gives weight to the 
+yarn, renders it hard and brittle. Each thread of the warp in the loom passes through a part of the loom 
+called 'a heald', which consists of strong threads to keep the warp in its proper place, and the hard state of 
+the warp causes the threads of the heald to break frequently; and it is said to take a weaver five minutes 
+to tie up the threads every time they break; and a weaver has to piece these ends at least ten times as 
+often as formerly, thus reducing the productive powers of the loom in the working-hours. " (Ibid., pp. 
+42-43.) 
+
+"In Ashton, Stalybridge, Mossley, Oldham, etc., the reduction of the time has been fully one-third, and 
+the hours are lessening every week... Simultaneously with this diminution of time there is also a 
+reduction of wages in many departments. " (Reports of Insp. of Fact., Oct. 1861, pp. 12-13.) Early in 
+1861 there was a strike among the mechanical weavers in some parts of Lancashire. Several 
+manufacturers had announced a wage reduction of 5 to 7.5%. The operatives insisted that the wage scale 
+remain the same while working-hours were reduced. This was not granted, and a strike was called. A 
+month later, the operatives had to give in. But then they got both. "In addition to the reduction of wages 
+to which the operatives at last consented, many mills are now running short time." (Reports of Insp. of 
+Fact., April 1861, p. 23:) 
+
+1862. April. "The sufferings of the operatives since the date of my last report have greatly increased; but 
+at no period of the history of manufactures, have sufferings so sudden and so severe been borne with so 
+much silent resignation and so much patient self-respect." (Reports of Insp. of Fact., April 1862, p. 10.) 
+
+
+
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+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 6 
+
+"The proportionate number of operatives wholly out of employment at this date appears not to be much 
+larger than it was in 1848, when there was an ordinary panic of sufficient consequences to excite alarm 
+amongst the manufacturers, so much as to warrant the collection of similar statistics of the state of the 
+cotton trade as are now issued weekly... In May 1848, the proportion of cotton operatives out of work in 
+Manchester out of the whole number usually employed was 15 per cent, on short time 12 per cent, whilst 
+70 per cent were in full work. On the 28th of May of the present year, of the whole number of persons 
+usually employed 15 per cent were out of work, 35 per cent were on short time, and 49 per cent were 
+working full time... In some other places, Stockport for example, the averages of short time and of 
+non-employment are higher, whilst those of full time are less", because coarser numbers are spun there 
+than in Manchester (p. 16). 
+
+1862. October. "I find by the last return to Parliament that there were 2,887 cotton factories in the United 
+Kingdom in 1861, 2,109 of them being in my district (Lancashire and Cheshire). I was aware that a very 
+large proportion of the 2,109 factories in my district were small establishments, giving employment to 
+few persons, but I have been surprised to find how large that proportion is. In 392, or 19 per cent, the 
+steam-engine or waterwheel is under 10 horse-power; in 345, or 16 per cent, the horsepower is above 10 
+and under 20; and in 1,372 the power is 20 horses and more... A very large proportion of these small 
+manufacturers - being more than a third of the whole number — were operatives themselves at no distant 
+period; they are men without command of capital... The brunt of the burden then would have to be borne 
+by the remaining two-thirds. " (Reports of Insp. of Fact., Oct. 1862, pp. 18, 19.) 
+
+According to the same report, 40,146, or 1 1.3%, of the cotton employees in Lancashire and Cheshire 
+were then working full time; 134,767, or 38%, were working short time; and 179,721, or 50.7%, were 
+unemployed. After deducting the returns from Manchester and Bolton, where mainly fine grades were 
+spun, a line relatively little affected by the cotton famine, the matter looks still more unfavourable; 
+namely, fully employed 8.5%, partly employed 38%, and unemployed 53.5% (pp. 19 and 20). 
+
+"Working up good or bad cotton makes a material difference to the operative. In the earlier part of the 
+year, when manufacturers were endeavouring to keep their mills at work by using up all the moderately 
+priced cotton they could obtain, much bad cotton was brought into mills in which good cotton was 
+ordinarily used, and the difference to the operatives in wages was so great that many strikes took place 
+on the ground that they could not make a fair day's wages at the old rates... In some cases, although 
+working full time, the difference in wages from working bad cotton was as much as one-half" (p. 27). 
+
+1863. April. "During the present year there will not be full employment for much more than one-half of 
+the cotton operatives in the country." (Reports of Insp. of Fact., April 1863, p. 14.) 
+
+"A very serious objection to the use of Surat cotton, as manufacturers are now compelled to use it, is that 
+the speed of the machinery must be greatly reduced in the processes of manufacture. For some years past 
+every effort has been made to increase the speed of machinery, in order to make the same machinery 
+produce more work; and the reduction of the speed becomes therefore a question which affects the 
+operative as well as the manufacturer; for the chief part of the operatives are paid by the work done; for 
+instance, spinners are paid per lb. for the yarn spun, weavers per piece for the number of pieces woven; 
+and even with the other classes of operatives paid by the week there would be a diminution of wages in 
+consideration of the less amount of goods produced. From inquiries I have made, and statements placed 
+in my hands, of the earnings of cotton operatives during the present year, I find there is a diminution 
+averaging 20 per cent upon their former earnings, in some instances the diminution has been as much as 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 6 
+
+50 per cent, calculated upon the same rate of wages as prevailed in 1861" (p. 13). "...The sum earned 
+depends upon... the nature of the material operated upon... The position of the operatives in regard to the 
+amount of their earnings is very much better now (October 1863) than it was this time last year. 
+Machinery has improved, the material is better understood, and the operatives are able better to 
+overcome the difficulties they had to contend with at first. I remember being in a sewing school (a 
+charity institution for unemployed) at Preston last spring, when two young women, who had been sent to 
+work at a weaving shed the day before, upon the representation of the manufacturer that they could earn 
+4s. per week, returned to the school to be readmitted, complaining that they could not have earned Is. per 
+week. I have been informed of 'self-acting minders' ... men who manage a pair of self-acting mules, 
+earning at the end of a fortnight's full work 8s. 1 Id., and that from this sum was deducted the rent of the 
+house, the manufacturer, however, returning half the rent as a gift. (How generous!) The minders took 
+away the sum of 6s. 1 Id. In many places the self-acting minders ranged from 5s. to 9s. per week, and the 
+weavers from 2s. to 6s. per week in the last months of 1862... At the present time a much more healthy 
+state of things exists, although there is still a great decrease in the earnings in most districts... There are 
+several causes which have tended to the reduction of earnings, besides the shorter staple of the Surat 
+cotton and its dirty condition; for instance, it is now the practice to mix 'waste' largely with Surat, which 
+consequently increases the difficulties of the spinner or minder. The threads, from their shortness of 
+fibre, are more liable to break in the drawing out of the mule and in the twisting of the yarn, and the mule 
+cannot be kept so continuously in motion... Then, from the great attention required in watching the 
+threads in weaving, many weavers can only mind one loom, and very few can mind more than two 
+looms... There has been a direct reduction of 5, 7 1/2 and 10 per cent upon the wages of the operatives... 
+In the majority of cases the operative has to make the best of his material, and to earn the best wages he 
+can at the ordinary rates... Another difficulty the weavers have sometimes to contend with is, that they 
+are expected to produce well-finished cloth from inferior materials, and are subject to fine for the flaws 
+in their work. " (Reports of Insp. of Fact., Oct. 1863, pp. 41-43.) 
+
+Wages were miserable, even where work was full time. The cotton workers willingly offered themselves 
+for all public works such as drainage, road-building, stone-breaking and street-paving, in which they 
+were employed, to get their keep from the authorities (although this practically amounted to assistance to 
+the manufacturer. See Book I, S. 598/589 [English edition: pp. 574-75. — Ed.]). The whole bourgeoisie 
+stood guard over the labourers. Were the worst dog's wages offered, and a labourer refused to accept 
+them, the Relief Committee would strike him from its lists. It was in a way a golden age for the 
+manufacturers, for the labourers had either to starve or work at a price most profitable for the bourgeois. 
+The Relief Committees acted as watch-dogs. At the same time, the manufacturers acted in secret 
+agreement with the government to hinder emigration as much as possible, partly to retain in readiness the 
+capital invested in the flesh and blood of the labourers, and partly to safeguard the house-rent squeezed 
+out of the labourers. 
+
+"The Relief Committees acted with great strictness upon this point. If work was offered, the operatives to 
+whom it was proposed were struck off the lists, and thus compelled to accept the offer. When they 
+objected to accept work... the cause has been that their earnings would have been merely nominal, and 
+the work exceedingly severe." (Reports of Insp. of Fact., Oct. 1863, p. 97.) 
+
+The operatives were willing to perform any work given to them under the Public Works Act. "The 
+principle upon which industrial employments were organised varied considerably in different towns, but 
+in those places even in which the outdoor work was not absolutely a labour test the manner in which 
+labour was remunerated by its being paid for either at the exact rate of relief, or closely approximating 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 6 
+
+the rate, it became in fact a labour test" (p. 69). "The Public Works Act of 1863 was intended to remedy 
+this inconvenience, and to enable the operative to earn his day's wages as an independent labourer. The 
+purpose of this Act was three-fold: firstly, to enable local authorities to borrow money of the Exchequer 
+Loan Commissioners (with consent of the President of the Central Relief Committee); secondly, to 
+facilitate the improvement of the towns of the cotton districts; thirdly, to provide work and remunerative 
+wages to the unemployed operatives." Loans to the amount of £883,700 had been granted under this Act 
+up to the end of October 1863 (p. 70). The works undertaken were mainly canalisation, road-building, 
+street-paving, water-works reservoirs, etc. 
+
+Mr. Henderson, president of the committee in Blackburn, wrote with reference to this to factory inspector 
+Redgrave: "Nothing in my experience, during the present period of suffering and distress, has struck me 
+more forcibly or given me more satisfaction, than the cheerful alacrity with which the unemployed 
+operatives of this district have accepted of the work offered to them through the adoption of the Public 
+Works Act, by the Corporation of Blackburn. A greater contrast than that presented between the cotton 
+spinner as a skilled workman in a factory, and as a labourer in a sewer 14 or 18 feet deep, can scarcely be 
+conceived. " (Depending on the size of his family, he earned 4 to 12s. per week, this enormous amount 
+providing sometimes for a family of eight. The towns-men derived a double profit from this. In the first 
+place, they secured money to improve their smoky and neglected cities at exceptionally low interest 
+rates. In the second place, they paid the labourers far less than the regular wage.) "Accustomed as he had 
+been to a temperature all but tropical, to work at which agility and delicacy of manipulation availed him 
+infinitely more than muscular strength and to double and sometimes treble the remuneration which it is 
+possible for him now to obtain, his ready acceptance of the proffered employment involved an amount of 
+self-denial and consideration the exercise of which is most creditable. In Blackburn the men have been 
+tested at almost every variety of outdoor work; in excavating a stiff heavy clay soil to a considerable 
+depth, in draining, in stone-breaking, in road-making, and in excavating for street sewers to a depth of 
+14, 16, and sometimes 20 feet. In many cases while thus employed they are standing in mud and water to 
+the depth of 10 or 12 inches, and in all they are exposed to a climate which, for chilly humidity is not 
+surpassed I suppose, even if it is equalled, by that of any district in England" (pp. 91-92). "The conduct 
+of the operatives has been almost blameless, and their readiness to accept and make the best of outdoor 
+labour" (p. 69). 
+
+1864. April. "Complaints are occasionally made in different districts at the scarcity of hands, but this 
+deficiency is chiefly felt in particular departments, as, for instance of weavers... These complaints have 
+their origin as much from the low rate of wages which the hands can earn owing to the inferior qualities 
+of yarn used, as from any positive scarcity of work-people even in that particular department. Numerous 
+differences have taken place during the past month between the masters of particular mills and their 
+operatives in respect of the wages. Strikes, I am sorry to say, are but too frequently resorted to,... the 
+effect of the Public Works Act is felt as a competition by the mill-owners. The local committee at Bacup 
+has suspended operations, for although all the mills are not running, yet a scarcity of hands has been 
+experienced." (Reports of Insp. of Fact., April 1864, pp. 9, 10.) It was indeed high time for the 
+manufacturers. Due to the Public Works Act the demand for labour grew so strong that many a factory 
+hand was earning 4 to 5 shillings daily in the quarries of Bacup. And so the public works were gradually 
+suspended - this new edition of the Ateliers nationaux of 1848, but this time instituted in the interests of 
+the bourgeoisie. 
+
+Experiments in corpore vili 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 6 
+
+"Although I have given the actual earnings of the operatives (fully employed) in several mills, it does not 
+follow that they earn the same amount week by week. The operatives are subject to great fluctuation, 
+from the constant experimentalising of the manufacturers upon different kinds and proportions of cotton 
+and, waste in the same mill, the 'mixings' as it is called, being frequently changed; and the earnings of the 
+operatives rise and fall with the quality of the cotton mixings; sometimes they have been within 15 per 
+cent of former earnings, and then in a week or two, they have fallen from 50 to 60 per cent." Inspector 
+Redgrave, who makes this report, then proceeds to cite wage figures taken from actual practice, of which 
+the following examples may suffice: 
+
+A, weaver, family of 6, employed 4 days a week, 6s. 8.5d.; B, twister, employed 4.5 days a week, 6s.; C, 
+weaver, family of 4, employed 5 days a week, 5s. Id.; D, slubber, family of 6, employed 4 days a week, 
+7s. 10d.; E, weaver, family of 7, employed 3 days a week, 5s., etc. Redgrave continues: "The above 
+returns are deserving of consideration, for they show that work would become a misfortune in many a 
+family, as it not merely reduces the income, but brings it so low as to be utterly insufficient to provide 
+more than a small portion of the absolute wants, were it not that supplemental relief is granted to 
+operatives when the wages of the family do not reach the sum that would be given to them as relief, if 
+they were all unemployed." (Reports of Insp. of Fact., Oct. 1863, pp. 50-53.) 
+
+"In no week since the 5th of June last was there more than two days seven hours and a few minutes 
+employment for all the workers." (Ibid., p. 121.) 
+
+From the beginning of the crisis to March 25, 1863, nearly three million pounds sterling were expended 
+by the guardians, the Central Relief Committee, and the Mansion House Committee. (Ibid., p. 13.) 
+
+"In a district in which the finest yarn is spun... the spinners suffer an indirect reduction of 15 per cent in 
+consequence of the change from South Sea Island to Egyptian cotton... In an extensive district, in many 
+parts of which waste is largely used as a mixture with Surat... the spinners have had a reduction of 5 per 
+cent, and have lost from 20 to 30 per cent in addition, through working Surat and waste. The weavers are 
+reduced from 4 looms to 2 looms. In 1860, they averaged 5s. 7d. per loom, in 1863, only 3s. 4d. The 
+fines, which formerly varied from 3d. to 6d. (for the weaver) on American, now run up to from Is. to 3s. 
+6d." In one district, where Egyptian cotton was used with an admixture of East Indian "the average of the 
+mule spinners, which was in 1860 18s. to 25s., now averages from 10s. to 18s. per week, caused, in 
+addition to inferior cotton, by the reduction of the speed of the mule to put an extra amount of twist in the 
+yarn, which in ordinary times would be paid for according to list" (pp. 43, 44). "Although the Indian 
+cotton may have been worked to profit by the manufacturer, it will be seen (see the wage list on p. 53) 
+that the operatives are sufferers compared with 1861, and if the use of Surat be confirmed, the operatives 
+will want to earn the wages of 1861, which would seriously affect the profits of the manufacturer, unless 
+he obtain compensation either in the price of the raw cotton or of his products" (p. 105). 
+
+House-Rent. "The rent is frequently deducted from the wages of operatives, even when working short 
+time, by the manufacturers whose cottages they may be occupying. Nevertheless the value of this class of 
+property has diminished, and houses may be obtained at a reduction of from 25 to 50 per cent upon the 
+rent of the houses in ordinary times; for instance, a cottage which would have cost 3s. 6d. per week can 
+now be had for 2s. 4d. per week, and sometimes even for less" (p. 57). 
+
+Emigration. The employers were naturally opposed to emigration of labourers, because, on the one hand, 
+"looking forward to the recovery of the cotton trade from its present depression, they keep within their 
+reach the means whereby their mills can be worked in the most advantageous manner". On the other 
+
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+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 6 
+
+hand, "many manufacturers are owners of the houses in which operatives employed in their mills reside, 
+and some unquestionably expect to obtain a portion of the back rent owing" (p. 96). 
+
+Mr. Bernall Osborne said in a speech to his parliamentary constituents on October 22, 1864, that the 
+labourers of Lancashire had behaved like the ancient philosophers -- (Stoics). Not like sheep? 
+
+FOOTNOTES 
+
+f 131 The Factory Question and the Ten Hours' Bill by R. H. Greg, London, 1837, p. 115. 
+
+f 141 The report errs in the final sentence. Instead of 6d. it should be 3d. for loss through waste. This loss 
+amounts to 25% in the case of Surat, and only 12 1/2 to 15% in the case of American cotton, and this 
+latter is meant, the same percentage having been correctly calculated for the price of 5 to 6d. It is true, 
+however, that also in the case of American cotton brought to Europe during the latter years of the Civil 
+War the proportion of waste often rose considerably higher than before. — F. E. 
+
+f 151 For examples see Babbage [On the Economy of Machinery and Manufactures, London, 1832, pp. 
+280-81.- Ed. ), among others. The usual expedient — a reduction of wages — is also employed in this 
+instance, so that this continual depreciation acts quite contrary to the dreams of Mr. Carey's "harmonious 
+brain". 
+
+f 161 Since the above was written (1865), competition on the world-market has been considerably 
+intensified by the rapid development of industry in all civilised countries, especially in America and 
+Germany. The fact that the rapidly and enormously expanding productive forces today outgrow the 
+control of the laws of the capitalist mode of commodity exchange, within which they are supposed to 
+operate, impresses itself more and more even on the minds of the capitalists. This is disclosed especially 
+by two symptoms. First, by the new general mania for a protective tariff, which differs from the old 
+protectionism in that now articles fit for export are those best protected. And secondly, by the trusts of 
+manufacturers of whole spheres of production which regulate production, and thus prices and profits. It 
+goes without saying that these experiments are practicable only so long as the economic climate is 
+relative favourable. The first storm must upset them and prove that, although production assuredly needs 
+regulation, it is certainly not the capitalist class which is fitted for that task. Meanwhile, the trusts have 
+no other mission but to see to it that the little fish are swallowed by the big fish still more rapidly than 
+before. - F.E. 
+
+[17] It goes without saying that we do not, like Mr. Baker, explain the wool crisis of 1857 on the basis of 
+the disproportion between the prices of raw material and product. This disproportion was itself but a 
+symptom, and the crisis was a general one. — F.E. 
+
+f 181 A sharp distinction is made in England between woollen manufacture, which spins carded yarn from 
+short wool and weaves it (main centre Leeds), and worsted manufacture, which makes worsted yarn from 
+long wool and weaves it (main seat Bradford, in Yorkshire). — F.E. 
+
+f 191 This rapid expansion of output of machine-made linen yarn in Ireland dealt a death-blow to exports 
+of linen made of hand-made yarn in Germany (Silesia, Lusatia, and Westphalia). — F.E. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 6 
+
+Transcribed for the Internet by Hinrich Kuhls 
+
+Next: Chapter 7 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch06.htm (22 of 22) [23/08/2000 16:01 :06] 
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 7 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Parti 
+
+THE CONVERSION OF SURPLUS-VALUE INTO PROFIT AND OF THE RATE OF 
+
+SURPLUS-VALUE INTO THE RATE OF PROFIT 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 7 
+
+
+
+Supplementary Remarks 
+
+
+
+Suppose, as is assumed in this part, the amount of profit in any particular sphere of production equals the 
+sum of the surplus-value produced by the total capital invested in that sphere. Even then the bourgeois 
+will not consider his profit as identical with surplus-value, i.e., with unpaid surplus-labour, and, to be 
+sure, for the following reasons: 
+
+1) In the process of circulation he forgets the process of production. He thinks that surplus-value is made 
+when he realises the value of commodities, which includes realisation of their surplus-value. [A blank 
+space which follows in the manuscript, indicates that Marx intended to dwell in greater detail on this 
+point. — F. E.] 
+
+2) Assuming a uniform degree of exploitation, we have seen that regardless of all modifications 
+originating in the credit system, regardless of the capitalists' efforts to outwit and cheat one another, and, 
+lastly, regardless of any favourable choice of the market — the rate of profit may differ considerably, 
+depending on the low or high prices of raw materials and the experience of the buyer, on the relative 
+productivity, efficiency and cheapness of the machinery, on the greater or lesser efficiency of the 
+aggregate arrangement in the various stages of the productive process, elimination of waste, the 
+simplicity and efficiency of management and supervision, etc. In short, given the surplus-value for a 
+certain variable capital, it still depends very much on the individual business acumen of the capitalist, or 
+of his managers and salesmen, whether this same surplus-value is expressed in a greater or smaller rate of 
+profit, and accordingly yields a greater or smaller amount of profit. Let the same surplus-value of £1,000, 
+the product of £1,000 in wages, obtain in enterprise A for a constant capital of £9,000, and in enterprise 
+
+B for £1 1,000. In case A we have p'= 1,000/10,000 or 10%. In case B we have p'= 1,000/1 2,000, or 8 
+1/3%. The total capital produces relatively more profit in enterprise A than in B, because of a higher rate 
+of profit, although the variable capital advanced in both cases = £1,000 and the surplus-value produced 
+by each likewise = £1,000, so that in both cases there exists the same degree of exploitation of the same 
+number of labourers. This difference in the presentation of the same mass of surplus-value, or the 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 7 
+
+difference in the rates of profit, and therefore in the profit itself, while the exploitation of labour is the 
+same, may also be due to other causes. Still, it may also be due wholly to a difference in the business 
+acumen with which both establishments are run. And this circumstance misleads the capitalist, convinces 
+him that his profits are not due to exploiting labour, but, at least in part, to other independent 
+circumstances, and particularly his individual activity. 
+
+
+
+The analyses in this first part demonstrate the incorrectness of the view (Rodbertus [Sociale Brief e an 
+von Kirchmann, Dritter Brief : Widerlegung der Ricardo'schen Lehre von der Grundrente und 
+Begriindung einer neuen Rententheorie, Berlin, 1851, S. 125. — Ed.]) according to which (as distinct 
+from ground-rent, in which case, for example, the area of real estate remains the same and yet the rent 
+rises) a change in the magnitude of an individual capital is supposed to have no influence on the ratio of 
+profit to capital, and thus on the rate of profit, because if the mass of profit should grow, so does the mass 
+of capital upon which it is calculated, and vice versa. 
+
+This is true only in two cases. First, when — assuming that all other circumstances, especially the rate of 
+surplus-value, remain unchanged — there is a change in the value of that commodity which is a 
+money-commodity. (The same occurs in a merely nominal change of value, the rise or fall of more 
+tokens of value, other conditions being equal.) Let the total capital = £100, and the profit = £20, the rate 
+of profit being = 20%. Should gold fall by half, or double, the same capital previously worth only £100, 
+will be worth £200 if it falls and the profit will be worth £40, i.e., it will be expressed in so much money 
+instead of the former £20; if it rises, the capital of £100 will be worth only £50, and the profit will be 
+represented by a product, whose value will be £10. But in either case 200:40 = 50: 10 = 100:20 = 20%. In 
+all these examples there would, however, have been no actual change in the magnitude of capital-value, 
+and only in the money-expression of the same value and the same surplus-value. For this reason s/C, or 
+the rate of profit, could not be affected. 
+
+In the second case there is an actual change of magnitude in the value, but unaccompanied by a change in 
+the ratio of v to c; in other words, with a constant rate of surplus-value the relation of capital invested in 
+labour-power (variable capital considered as an index of the amount of labour-power set in motion) to the 
+capital invested in means of production remains the same. Under these circumstances, no matter whether 
+we have C, or nC, or C/n, e.g., 1,000, or 2,000, or 500, and the rate of profit being 20%, the profit =200 
+in the first case, =400 in the second, and =100 in the third. But 200: 1,000 = 400:2,000 = 100:500 = 20%. 
+That is to say, the rate of profit is unchanged, because the composition of capital remains the same and is 
+not affected by the change in magnitude. Therefore, an increase or decrease in the amount of profit 
+shows merely an increase or decrease in the magnitude of the invested capital. 
+
+In the first case there is, therefore, but the appearance of a change in the magnitude of the employed 
+capital, while in the second case there is an actual change in magnitude, but no change in the organic 
+composition of the capital, i.e., in the relative proportions of its variable and constant portions. But with 
+the exception of these two cases, a change in the magnitude of the employed capital is either the result of 
+a preceding change in the value of one of its components, and therefore of a change in the relative 
+magnitude of these components (as long as the surplus-value itself does not change with the variable 
+capital); or, this change of magnitude (as in labour-processes on a large scale, introduction of new 
+machinery, etc.) is the cause of a change in the relative magnitude of its two organic components. In all 
+these cases, other circumstances remaining the same, a change in the magnitude of the employed capital 
+must therefore be accompanied simultaneously by a change in the rate of profit. 
+
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+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 7 
+
+
+
+A rise in the rate of profit is always due to a relative or absolute increase of the surplus-value in relation 
+to its cost of production, i.e., to the advanced total capital, or to a decrease in the difference between the 
+rate of profit and the rate of surplus-value. 
+
+Fluctuations in the rate of profit may occur irrespective of changes in the organic components of the 
+capital, or of the absolute magnitude of the capital, through a rise or fall in the value of the fixed or 
+circulating advanced capital caused by an increase or a reduction of the working-time required for its 
+reproduction, this increase or reduction taking place independently of the already existing capital. The 
+value of every commodity — thus also of the commodities making up the capital — is determined not by 
+the necessary labour-time contained in it, but by the social labour-time required for its reproduction. This 
+reproduction may take place under unfavourable or under propitious circumstances, distinct from the 
+conditions of original production. If, under altered conditions, it takes double or, conversely, half the 
+time, to reproduce the same material capital, and if the value of money remains unchanged, a capital 
+formerly worth £100 would be worth £200, or £50 respectively. Should this appreciation or depreciation 
+affect all parts of capital uniformly, then the profit would also be accordingly expressed in double, or 
+half, the amount of money. But if it involves a change in the organic composition of the capital, if the 
+ratio of the variable to the constant portion of capital rises or falls, then, other circumstances remaining 
+the same, the rate of profit will rise with a relatively rising variable capital and fall with a relatively 
+falling one. If only the money- value of the advanced capital rises or falls (in consequence of a change in 
+the value of money), then the money-expression of the surplus-value rises, or falls, in the same 
+proportion. The rate of profit remains unchanged. 
+
+
+
+Transcribed for the Internet by Hinrich Kuhls 
+
+Next: Chapter 8 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 8 
+
+Karl Marx 
+Capital, Volume III 
+
+Part II 
+
+CONVERSION OF PROFIT INTO 
+AVERAGE PROFIT 
+
+CHAPTER VII 
+
+Different Compositions of Capitals in Different Branches of 
+Production and Resulting Differences in Rates of Profit 
+
+
+
+In the preceding part we demonstrated, among other things, that the rate of profit may vary — rise or fall 
+— while the rate of surplus-value remains the same. In the present chapter we assume that the intensity of 
+labor exploitation, and therefore the rate of surplus-value and the length of the working-day, are the same 
+in all the spheres of production into which the social labor of a given country is divided. Adam Smith has 
+already comprehensively shown that the numerous differences in the exploitation of labor in various 
+spheres of production balance one another by means of all kinds of existing compensations, or 
+compensations accepted as such on the basis of current prejudice, so that they are merely evanescent 
+distinctions and are of no moment in a study of the general relations. Other differences, for instance those 
+in the wage scale, rest largely on the difference between simple and complicated labor mentioned in the 
+beginning of Book I (S. 19), and have nothing to do with the intensity of exploitation in the different 
+spheres of production, although they render the lot of the laborer in those spheres very unequal. For 
+instance, if the labor of a goldsmith is better paid than that of a day-laborer, the former's surplus-labor 
+produces proportionately more surplus-value than the latter's. And although the equalizing of wages and 
+working-days, and thereby of the rates of surplus-value, among different spheres of production, and even 
+among different investments of capital in the same sphere of production, is checked by all kinds of local 
+obstacles, it is nevertheless taking place more and more with the advance of capitalist production and the 
+subordination of all economic conditions to this mode of production. The study of such frictions, while 
+important to any special work on wages, may be dispensed with as incidental and irrelevant in a general 
+analysis of capitalist production. In a general analysis of this kind it is usually always assumed that the 
+actual conditions correspond to their conception, or, what is the same, that actual conditions are 
+represented only to the extent that they are typical of their own general case. 
+
+The difference in the rates of surplus-value in different countries, and consequently the national 
+differences in the degree of exploitation of labor, are immaterial for our present analysis. What we want 
+to show in this part is precisely the way in which a general rate of profit takes shape in any given 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 8 
+
+country. It is evident, however, that a comparison of the various national rates of profit requires only a 
+collation of the previously studied with that which is here to be studied. First one should consider the 
+differences in the national rates of surplus-value, and then, on the basis of these given rates, a comparison 
+should be made of the differences in the national rates of profit. In so far as those differences are not due 
+to differences in the national rates of surplus-value, they must be due to circumstances in which the 
+surplus-value is assumed, just as in the analysis of this chapter, to be universally the same, i.e., constant. 
+
+We demonstrated in the preceding chapter that, assuming the rate of surplus-value to be constant, the rate 
+of profit obtaining for a given capital may rise or fall in consequence of circumstances which raise or 
+lower the value of one or the other portion of constant capital, and so affect the proportion between the 
+variable and constant components of capital. We further observed that circumstances which prolong or 
+reduce the time of turnover of an individual capital may similarly influence the rate of profit. Since the 
+mass of the profit is identical with the mass of the surplus-value, and with the surplus-value itself, it was 
+also seen that the mass of the profit — as distinct from the rate of profit — is not affected by the 
+aforementioned fluctuations of value. They only modify the rate in which a given surplus-value, and 
+therefore a profit of a given magnitude, express themselves; in other words, they modify only the relative 
+magnitude of profit, i.e., its magnitude compared with the magnitude of the advanced capital. Inasmuch 
+as capital was tied up or released by such fluctuations of value, it was not only the rate of profit, but the 
+profit itself, which was likely to be affected in this indirect manner. However, this has then always 
+applied only to such capital as was already invested, and not to new investments. Besides, the increase or 
+reduction of profit always depended on the extent to which the same capital could, in consequence of 
+such fluctuation of value, set in motion more or less labor; in other words, it depended on the extent to 
+which the same capital could, with the rate of surplus-value remaining the same, obtain a larger or 
+smaller amount of surplus-value. Far from contradicting the general rule, or from being an exception to 
+it, this seeming exception was really but a special case in the application of the general rule. 
+
+It was seen in the preceding part that, the degree of exploitation remaining constant, changes in the value 
+of the component parts of constant capital and in the time of turnover of capital are attended by changes 
+in the rate of profit. The obvious conclusion is that the rates of profit in different spheres of production 
+existing side by side have to differ when, other circumstances remaining unchanged, the time of turnover 
+of capitals employed in the different spheres differs, or when the value-relation of the organic 
+components of these capitals differs in the various branches of production. What we previously regarded 
+as changes occurring successively with one and the same capital is now to be regarded as simultaneous 
+differences among capital investments existing side by side in different spheres of production. 
+
+In these circumstances we shall have to analyze: 1) the difference in the organic composition of capitals, 
+and 2) the difference in their period of turnover. 
+
+The premise in this entire analysis is naturally that by speaking of the composition or turnover of a 
+capital in a certain line of production we always mean the average normal proportions of capital invested 
+in this sphere, and generally the average in the total capital employed in that particular sphere, and not 
+the accidental differences of the individual capitals. 
+
+Since it is further assumed that the rate of surplus-value and the working-day are constant, and since this 
+assumption also implies constant wages, a certain quantity of variable capital represents a definite 
+quantity of labor-power set in motion, and therefore a definite quantity of materialized labor. If, 
+therefore, £100 represent the weekly wage of 100 laborers, indicating 100 actual labor-powers, then n 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 8 
+
+times £100 indicate the labour-powers of n times 100 laborers, and £100/n those of 100/n laborers. The 
+variable capital thus serves here (as is always the case when the wage is given) as an index of the amount 
+of labor set in motion by a definite total capital. Differences in the magnitude of the employed variable 
+capitals serve, therefore, as indexes of the difference in the amount of employed labor-power. If £100 
+indicate 100 laborers per week, and represent 6,000 working-hours at 60 working-hours per week, then 
+£200 represent 12,000, and £50 only 3,000 working-hours. 
+
+By composition of capital we mean, as stated in Book I, the proportion of its active and passive 
+components, i.e., of variable and constant capital. Two proportions enter into consideration under this 
+heading. They are not equally important, although they may produce similar effects under certain 
+circumstances. 
+
+The first proportion rests on a technical basis, and must be regarded as given at a certain stage of 
+development of the productive forces. A definite quantity of labor-power represented by a definite 
+number of laborers is required to produce a definite quantity of products in, say, one day, and — what is 
+self-evident — thereby to consume productively, i.e., to set in motion, a definite quantity of means of 
+production, machinery, raw materials, etc. A definite number of laborers corresponds to a definite 
+quantity of means of production, and hence a definite quantity of living labor to a definite quantity of 
+labor materialized in means of production. This proportion differs greatly in different spheres of 
+production, and frequently even in different branches of one and the same industry, although it may by 
+coincidence be entirely or approximately the same in entirely separate lines of industry. 
+
+This proportion forms the technical composition of capital and is the real basis of its organic 
+composition. 
+
+However, it is also possible that this first proportion may be the same in different lines of industry, 
+provided variable capital is merely an index of labor-power and constant capital merely an index of the 
+mass of means of production set in motion by this labor-power. For instance, certain work in copper and 
+iron may require the same ratio of labor-power to mass of means of production. But since copper is more 
+expensive than iron, the value-relation between variable and constant capital is different in each case, and 
+hence also the value-composition of the two total capitals. The difference between the technical 
+composition and the value composition is manifested in each branch of industry in that the value-relation 
+of the two portions of capital may vary while the technical composition is constant, and the 
+value-relation may remain the same while the technical composition varies. The latter case will, of 
+course, be possible only if the change in the ratio of the employed masses of means of production and 
+labor-power is compensated by a reverse change in their values. 
+
+The value-composition of capital, inasmuch as it is determined by, and reflects, its technical composition, 
+is called the organic composition of capital. 
+
+In the case of variable capital, therefore, we assume that it is the index of a definite quantity of 
+labor-power, or of a definite number of laborers, or a definite quantity of living labor set in motion. We 
+have seen in the preceding part that a change in the magnitude of the value of variable capital might 
+eventually indicate nothing but a higher or lower price of the same mass of labor. But here, where the 
+rate of surplus-value and the working-day are taken to be constant, and the wages for a definite working 
+period are given, this is out of the question. On the other hand, a difference in the magnitude of the 
+constant capital may likewise be an index of a change in the mass of means of production set in motion 
+by a definite quantity of labor-power. But it may also stem from a difference in value between the means 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 8 
+
+of production set in motion in one sphere and those of another. Both points of view must therefore be 
+examined here. 
+
+Finally, we must take note of the following essential facts: 
+
+Let £100 be the weekly wage of 100 laborers. Let the weekly working-hours=60. Furthermore, let the 
+rate of surplus-value= =100%. In this case, the laborers work 30 of the 60 hours for themselves and 30 
+hours gratis for the capitalist. In fact, the £100 of wages represent just the 30 working-hours of 100 
+laborers, or altogether 3,000 working-hours, while the other 3,000 hours worked by the laborers are 
+incorporated in the £100 of surplus-value, or in the profit pocketed by the capitalist. Although the wage 
+of £100 does not, therefore, express the value in which the weekly labor of the 100 laborers is 
+materialized, it indicates nevertheless (since the length of the working-day and the rate of .surplus- value 
+are given) that this capital sets in motion 100 laborers for 6,000 working-hours. The capital of £100 
+indicates this, first, because it indicates the number of laborers set in motion, with £1=1 laborer per week, 
+hence £100=100 laborers; and, secondly, because, since the rate of surplus-value is given as 100%, each 
+of these laborers performs twice as much work as is contained in his wages, so that £1, i.e., his wage, 
+which is the expression of half a week of labor, actuates a whole week's labor, just as £100 sets in motion 
+100 weeks of labor, although it contains only 50. A very essential distinction is thus to be made in regard 
+to variable capital laid out in wages. Its value as the sum of wages, i.e., as a certain amount of 
+materialised labour, is to be distinguished from its value as a mere index of the mass of living labour 
+which it sets in motion. The latter is always greater than the labour which it incorporates, and is, 
+therefore, represented by a greater value than that of the variable capital. This greater value is 
+determined, on the one hand, by the number of labourers set in motion by the variable capital and, on the 
+other, by the quantity of surplus-labour performed by them. 
+
+It follows from this manner of looking upon variable capital that: 
+
+When a capital invested in production sphere A expends only 100 in variable capital for each 700 of total 
+capital, leaving 600 for constant capital, while a capital invested in production sphere B expends 600 for 
+variable and only 100 for constant capital, then capital A of 700 sets in motion only 100 of labour-power, 
+or, in the terms of our previous assumption, 100 weeks of labour, or 6,000 hours of living labour, while 
+the same amount of capital B will set in motion 600 weeks of labour, or 36,000 hours of living labour. 
+The capital in A would then appropriate only 50 weeks of labour, or 3,000 hours of surplus-labour, while 
+the same amount of capital in B would appropriate 300 weeks of labour, or 18,000 hours. Variable 
+capital is not only the index of the labour embodied in it. When the rate of surplus-value is known it is 
+also an index of the amount of labour set in motion over and above that embodied in itself, i.e., of 
+surplus-labour. Assuming the same intensity of exploitation, the profit in the first case would be 100/700 
+=1/7=14 2/7%, and in the second case, 600/700 = 6/7 = 85 5/7%, or a six-fold rate of profit. In this case, 
+the profit itself would actually be six times as great, 600 in B as against 100 in A, because the same 
+capital set in motion six times as much living labour, which at the same level of exploitation means six 
+times as much surplus value, and thus six times as much profit. 
+
+But if the capital invested in A were not 700 but £7,000, while that invested in B were only £700, and the 
+organic composition of both were to remain the same, then the capital in A would employ £1,000 of the 
+£7,000 as variable capital, that is, 1,000 labourers per week = 60,000 hours of living labour, of which 
+30,000 would be surplus-labour. Yet each £700 of the capital in A would continue to set in motion only 
+one-sixth as much living labour, and hence only one-sixth as much surplus-labour, as the capital in B, 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 8 
+
+and would produce only one- sixth as much profit. If we consider the rate of profit, then in A 1000/7000 = 
+100/700 = 14 2/7%, as compared with 600/700, or 85 5/7%, in B. Taking equal amounts of capital, the 
+rates of profit differ because, owing to the different masses of living labour set in motion, the masses of 
+surplus-value, and thus of profit, differ, although the rates of surplus-value are the same. 
+
+We get practically the same result if the technical conditions are the same in both spheres of production, 
+but the value of the elements of the employed constant capital is greater or smaller in the one than in the 
+other. Let us assume that both invest £100 as variable capital and therefore employ 100 labourers per 
+week to set in motion the same quantity of machinery and raw materials. But let the latter be more 
+expensive in B than in A. For instance, let the £100 of variable capital set in motion £200 of constant 
+capital in A, and £400 in B. With the same rate of surplus value, of 100%, the surplus-value produced is 
+in either case equal to £100. Hence, the profit is also equal to £100 in both. But the rate of profit in A is 
+100/200c+100v = 1/8 = 33 1/3%, while in B it is 100/400c+100v = 1/5 = 20%. In fact, if we select a 
+certain aliquot part of the total capital in either case, we find that in every £100 of B only £20, or 
+one-fifth, constitute variable capital, while in every £100 of A £33 1/3, or one-third, form variable capital. 
+B produces less profit for each £100, because it sets in motion less living labour than A. The difference 
+in the rates of profit thus resolves itself once more, in this case, into a difference of the masses of profit, 
+because of the masses of surplus-value, produced by each 100 of invested capital. 
+
+The difference between this second example and the first is just this: The equalisation between A and B 
+in the second case would require only a change in the value of the constant capital of either A or B, 
+provided the technical basis remained the same. But in the first case the technical composition itself is 
+different in the two spheres of production and would have to be completely changed to achieve an 
+equalisation. 
+
+The different organic composition of various capitals is thus independent of their absolute magnitude. It 
+is always but a question of how much of every 100 is variable and how much constant capital. 
+
+Capitals of different magnitude, calculated in percentages, or, what amounts to the same in this case, 
+capitals of the same magnitude operating for the same working-time and with the same degree of 
+exploitation may produce very much different amounts of profit, because of surplus-value, for the reason 
+that a difference in the organic composition of capital in different spheres of production implies a 
+difference in their variable part, thus a difference in the quantities of living labour set in motion by them, 
+and therefore also a difference in the quantities of surplus-labour appropriated by them. And this 
+surplus-labour is the substance of surplus-value, and thus of profit. In different spheres of production 
+equal portions of the total capital comprise unequal sources of surplus-value, and the sole source of 
+surplus-value is living labour. Assuming the same degree of labour exploitation, the mass of labour set in 
+motion by a capital of 100, and consequently the mass of surplus-labour appropriated by it, depend on 
+the magnitude of its variable component. If a capital, consisting in per cent of 90c+10v, produced as 
+much surplus-value, or profit, at the same degree of exploitation as a capital consisting of 10c+90v, it 
+would be as plain as day that the surplus-value, and thus value in general, must have an entirely different 
+source than labour, and that political economy would then be deprived of every rational basis. If we are 
+to assume all the time that £1 stands for the weekly wage of a labourer working 60 hours, and that the 
+rate of surplus-value is 100%, then it is evident that the total value product of one labourer in a week, is 
+£2. Ten labourers would then produce no more than £20. And since £10 of the £20 replace the wages, the 
+ten labourers cannot produce more surplus-value than £10. On the other hand, 90 labourers, whose total 
+product is £180, and whose wages amount to £90, would produce a surplus-value of £90. The rate of 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 8 
+
+profit in the first case would thus be 10 %, and in the other 90 % . If this were not so, then value and 
+surplus-value would be something else than materialised labour. Since capitals in different spheres of 
+production viewed in percentages-or as capitals of equal magnitude-are divided differently into variable 
+and constant capital, setting in motion unequal quantities of living labour and producing different 
+surplus-values, and therefore profits, it follows that the rate of profit, which consists precisely of the ratio 
+of surplus-value to total capital in per cent, must also differ. 
+
+Now, if capitals in different spheres of production, calculated in per cent, i. e., capitals of equal 
+magnitude, produce unequal profits in consequence of their different organic composition, then it follows 
+that the profits of unequal capitals in different spheres of production cannot be proportional to their 
+respective magnitudes, or that profits in different spheres of production are not proportional to the 
+magnitude of the respective capitals invested in them. For if profits were to grow pro rata to the 
+magnitude of invested capital, it would mean that in per cent the profits would be the same, so that in 
+different spheres of production capitals of equal magnitude would have equal rates of profit, in spite of 
+their different organic composition. It is only in the same sphere of production, where we have a given 
+organic composition of capital, or in different spheres with the same organic composition of capital, that 
+the amounts of profits are directly proportional to the amounts of invested capitals. To say that the profits 
+of unequal capitals are proportional to their magnitudes would only mean that capitals of equal 
+magnitude yield equal profits, or that the rate of profit is the same for all capitals, whatever their 
+magnitude and organic composition. 
+
+These statements hold good on the assumption that the commodities are sold at their values. The value of 
+a commodity is equal to the value of the constant capital contained in it, plus the value of the variable 
+capital reproduced in it, plus the increment-the surplus-value produced-of this variable capital. At the 
+same rate of surplus-value, its quantity evidently depends on the quantity of the variable capital. The 
+value of the product of an individual capital of 100 is, in one case, 90c+10v +10s =110; and in the other, 
+10c+9Ov+90s=190. If the commodities go at their values, the first product is sold at 110, of which 10 
+represent surplus-value, or unpaid labour, and the second at 190, of which 90 represent surplus-value, or 
+unpaid labour. 
+
+This is particularly important in comparing rates of profit in different countries. Let us assume that the 
+rate of surplus-value in one European country is 100%, so that the labourer works half of the 
+working-day for himself and the other half for his employer. Let us further assume that the rate of profit 
+in an Asian country is 25%, so that the labourer works four-fifths of the working-day for himself, and 
+one-fifth for his employer. Let 84c+16v be the composition of the national capital in the European 
+country, and 16c+84v in the Asian country, where little machinery, etc., is used, and where a given 
+quantity of labour-power consumes relatively little raw material productively in a given time. Then we 
+have the following calculation: 
+
+In the European country the value of the product = 84c+16v+ +16s=l 16; rate of profit = 16/100= 16%. 
+
+In the Asian country the value of the product =16c+84v+ +21s =121; rate of profit= 100=21%. 
+
+The rate of profit in the Asian country is thus more than 25% higher than in the European country, 
+although the rate of surplus-value in the former is one-fourth that of the latter. Men like Carey, Bastiat, 
+and tutti quanti, would arrive at the very opposite conclusion. 
+
+By the way, different national rates of profit are mostly based on different national rates of surplus-value. 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch08.htm (6 of 9) [23/08/2000 16:01 :12] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 8 
+
+But in this chapter we compare unequal rates of profit derived from the same rate of surplus-value. 
+
+Aside from differences in the organic composition of capitals, and therefore aside from the different 
+masses of labour-and consequently, other circumstances remaining the same, from different masses of 
+surplus-labour set in motion by capitals of the same magnitude in different spheres of production, there is 
+yet another source of inequality in rates of profit. This is the different period of turnover of capital in 
+different spheres of production. We have seen in Chapter IV that, other conditions being equal, the rates 
+of profit of capitals of the same organic composition are inversely proportional to their periods of 
+turnover. We have also seen that the same variable capital turned over in different periods of time 
+produces different quantities of annual surplus-value. The difference in the periods of turnover is 
+therefore another reason why capitals of equal magnitude in different spheres of production do not 
+produce equal profits in equal periods, and why, consequently, the rates of profit in these different 
+spheres differ. 
+
+As far as the ratio of the fixed and circulating capital in the composition of capitals is concerned, 
+however, it does not in itself affect the rate of profit in the least. It can affect the rate of profit only if in 
+one case, this difference in composition coincides with a different ratio of the variable and constant parts, 
+so that the difference in the rate of profit is due to this latter difference, and not to the different ratio of 
+fixed and circulating capital; and, in the other case, if the difference in the ratio of the fixed and 
+circulating parts of capital is responsible for a difference in the period of turnover in which a certain 
+profit is realised. If capitals are divided into fixed and circulating capital in different proportions, this will 
+naturally always influence the period of turnover and cause differences in it. But this does not imply that 
+the period of turnover, in which the same capitals realise certain profits, is different. For instance, A may 
+continually have to convert the greater part of its product into raw materials, etc., while B may use the 
+same machinery, etc., for a longer time, and may need less raw material, but both A and B, being 
+occupied in production, always have a part of their capital engaged, the one in raw materials, i.e., in 
+circulating capital, and the other in machinery, etc., or in fixed capital. A continually converts a portion 
+of its capital from the form of commodities into that of money, and the latter again into the form of raw 
+material, while B employs a portion of its capital for a longer time as an instrument of labour without any 
+such conversions. If both of them employ the same amount of labour, they will indeed sell quantities of 
+products of unequal value in the course of the year, but both quantities of products will contain equal 
+amounts of surplus-value, and their rates of profit, calculated on the entire capital invested, will be the 
+same, although their composition of fixed and circulating capital, and their periods of turnover, are 
+different. Both capitals realise equal profits in equal periods, although their periods of turnover are 
+different. JJJ The difference in the period of turnover is in itself of no importance, except so far as it 
+affects the mass of surplus-labour appropriated and realised by the same capital in a given time. If, 
+therefore, a different division into fixed and circulating capital does not necessarily imply a different 
+period of turnover, which would in its turn imply a different rate of profit, it is evident that if there is any 
+such difference in the rates of profit, it is not due to a different ratio of fixed to circulating capital as 
+such, but rather to the fact that this different ratio indicates an inequality in the periods of turnover 
+affecting the rate of profit. 
+
+It follows, therefore, that the different composition of constant capital in respect to its fixed and 
+circulating portions in various branches of production has in itself no bearing on the rate of profit, since it 
+is the ratio of variable to constant capital which decides this question, while the value of the constant 
+capital, and therefore also its magnitude in relation to the variable is entirely unrelated to the fixed or 
+circulating nature of its components. Yet it may be found — and this often leads to incorrect conclusions 
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch08.htm (7 of 9) [23/08/2000 16:01:12] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 8 
+
+— that wherever fixed capital is considerably advanced this but expresses the fact that production is on a 
+large scale, so that constant capital greatly outweighs the variable, or that the living labour-power it 
+employs is small compared to the mass of the means of production which it operates. 
+
+We have thus demonstrated that different lines of industry have different rates of profit, which 
+correspond to differences in the organic composition of their capitals and, within indicated limits, also to 
+their different periods of turnover; given the same time of turnover, the law (as a general tendency) that 
+profits are related to one another as the magnitudes of the capitals, and that, consequently, capitals of 
+equal magnitude yield equal profits in equal periods, applies only to capitals of the same organic 
+composition, even with the same rate of surplus-value. These statements hold good on the assumption 
+which has been the basis of all our analyses so far, namely that the commodities are sold at their values. 
+There is no doubt, on the other hand, that aside from unessential, incidental and mutually compensating 
+distinctions, differences in the average rate of profit in the various branches of industry do not exist in 
+reality, and could not exist without abolishing the entire system of capitalist production. It would seem, 
+therefore, that here the theory of value is incompatible with the actual process, incompatible with the real 
+phenomena of production, and that for this reason any attempt to understand these phenomena should be 
+given up. 
+
+It follows from the first part of this volume that the cost-prices of products in different spheres of 
+production are equal if equal portions of capital have been advanced for their production, however 
+different the organic composition of such capitals. The distinction between variable and constant capital 
+escapes the capitalist in the cost-price. A commodity for whose production he must advance £100 costs 
+him just as much, whether he invests 90c+10v, or 10c+90v. It costs him £100 in either case — no more 
+and no less. The cost-prices are the same for equal capitals in different spheres, no matter how much the 
+produced values and surplus-values may differ. The equality of cost-prices is the basis for competition 
+among invested capitals, whereby an average profit is brought about. 
+
+
+
+FOOTNOTES 
+
+JT[ [It follows from Chapter IV that the above statement correctly applies only when capitals A and B are 
+differently composed in respect to their values, but that the percentages of their variable parts are 
+proportionate to their periods of turnover, i.e., inversely proportionate to their number of turnovers. Let 
+capital A have the following percentages of composition: 20c fixed+70c circulating and thus 
+90c+10v=100. At a rate of surplus-value of 100% the lOv produces 10s in one turnover, yielding a rate of 
+profit for one turnover =10%. Let capital B = 60c fixed +20c circulating, and thus 80c+20v=100. The 
+20v produce 20s in one turnover at the above rate of surplus-value, yielding a rate of profit for one 
+turnover=20%, which is double that of A. But if A is turned over twice per year, and B only once, then 2 
+x 10 also make 20s per year, and the annual rate of profit is the same for both, namely 20%. -F.E.] 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter Nine 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch08.htm (8 of 9) [23/08/2000 16:01:12] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 8 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch08.htm (9 of 9) [23/08/2000 16:01 :12] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 9 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Part II 
+
+CONVERSION OF PROFIT INTO AVERAGE PROFIT 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX 
+
+FORMATION OF A GENERAL RATE OF PROFIT 
+
+(AVERAGE RATE OF PROFIT) 
+
+AND TRANSFORMATION OF THE VALUES 
+
+OF COMMODITIES 
+
+INTO PRICES OF PRODUCTION 
+
+
+
+The organic composition of capital depends at any given time on two circumstances: first, on the 
+technical relation of labour power employed to the mass of the means of production employed; secondly, 
+on the price of these means of production. This composition, as we have seen, must be examined on the 
+basis of percentage ratios. We express the organic composition of a certain capital consisting 4/5 of 
+constant and 1/5 of variable capital, by the formula 80c+20v. It is furthermore assumed in this 
+comparison that the rate of surplus-value is unchangeable. Let it be any rate picked at random; say, 
+100%. The capital of 80c+20v then produces a surplus-value of 20s, and this yields a rate of profit of 
+20% on the total capital. The magnitude of the actual value of its product depends on the magnitude of 
+the fixed part of the constant capital, and on the portion which passes from it through wear and tear into 
+the product. But since this circumstance has absolutely no bearing on the rate of profit, and hence, in the 
+present analysis, we shall assume, for the sake of simplicity, that the constant capital is everywhere 
+uniformly and entirely transferred to the annual product of the capitals. It is further assumed that the 
+capitals in the different spheres of production annually realise the same quantities of surplus-value 
+proportionate to the magnitude of their variable parts. For the present, therefore, we disregard the 
+difference which may be produced in this respect by variations in the duration of turnovers. This point 
+will be discussed later. 
+
+Let us take five different spheres of production, and let the capital in each have a different organic 
+composition as follows: 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 9 
+
+p . , Rate of Surplus- Value of Rate of 
+
+^ Surplus-Value Value Product Profit 
+
+
+
+I. 80c+20v 100% 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+20% 
+
+
+II. 70c+30v 100% 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+130 
+
+
+30% 
+
+
+III. 60c+40v 100% 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+140 
+
+
+40% 
+
+
+IV. 85c+15v 100% 
+
+
+15 
+
+
+115 
+
+
+15% 
+
+
+V. 95c+5v 100% 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+105 
+
+
+5% 
+
+
+
+Here, in different spheres of production with the same degree of exploitation, we find considerably 
+different rates of profit corresponding to the different organic composition of these capitals. 
+
+The sum total of the capitals invested in these five spheres of production=500; the sum total of the 
+surplus-value produced by them=l 10; the aggregate value of the commodities produced by them=610. If 
+we consider the 500 as a single capital, and capitals I to V merely as its component parts (as, say, 
+different departments of a cotton mill, which has different ratios of constant to variable capital in its 
+carding, preparatory spinning, spinning, and weaving shops, and in which the average ratio for the 
+factory as a whole has still to be calculated), the mean composition of this capital of 500 
+would=390c+l lOv, or, in per cent,=78c+22v. Should each of the capitals of 100 be regarded as one-fifth 
+of the total capital, its composition would equal this average of 78c+22v; for every 100 there would be an 
+average surplus-value of 22; thus, the average rate of profit would=22%, and, finally, the price of every 
+fifth of the total product produced by the 500 would=122. The product of each fifth of the advanced total 
+capital would then have to be sold at 122. 
+
+But to avoid entirely erroneous conclusions it must not be assumed that all cost-prices=100. 
+
+With 80c+20v and a rate of surplus-value=100%, the total value of commodities produced by capital I = 
+100 would be 80c+20v+20s=120, provided the entire constant capital went into the annual product. Now, 
+this may under certain circumstances be the case in some spheres of production. But hardly in cases 
+where the proportion of c:v=4:l. We must, therefore, remember in comparing the values produced by 
+each 100 of the different capitals, that they will differ in accordance with the different composition of c 
+as to its fixed and circulating parts, and that, in turn, the fixed portions of each of the different capitals 
+depreciate slowly or rapidly as the case may be, thus transferring unequal quantities of their value to the 
+product in equal periods of time. But this is immaterial to the rate of profit. No matter whether the 80c 
+give up a value of 80, or 50, or 5, to the annual product, and the annual product 
+consequently=80c+20v+20s =120, or 50c+20v+20s =90, or 5v+20v+20s=45; in all these cases the 
+redundance of-the product's value over its cost-price=20, and in calculating the rate of profit these 20 are 
+related to the capital of 100 in all of them. The rate of profit of capital I, therefore, is 20% in every case. 
+To make this still plainer, we let different portions of constant capital go into the value of the product of 
+the same five capitals in the following table: 
+
+r . , Rate of Surplus- Rate of Used up Value of Cost- 
+
+^ Surplus-Value Value 
+
+1. 80c+20v 100% 20 
+
+II. 70c+30v 100% 30 
+
+III. 60c+40v 100% 40 
+
+IV. 85c+15v 100% 15 
+
+V. 95c+5v 100% 5 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Profit 
+
+
+c 
+
+
+commodities Price 
+
+
+20% 
+
+
+50 
+
+
+90 70 
+
+
+30% 
+
+
+51 
+
+
+111 81 
+
+
+40% 
+
+
+51 
+
+
+131 91 
+
+
+15% 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+70 55 
+
+
+5% 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+20 15 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 9 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+390c+110v - 
+
+
+110 
+
+
+110% 
+
+
+78c+22v 
+
+
+22 
+
+
+22% 
+
+
+
+Total 
+Average 
+
+If we now again consider capitals I to V as a single total capital, we shall see that, in this case as well, the 
+composition of the sums of these five capitals=500=390c+l lOv, so that we get the same average 
+composition=78c+22v, and, similarly, the average surplus-value remains 22. If we divide this 
+surplus-value uniformly among capitals I to V, we get the following commodity-prices: 
+
+p . , Surplus- Value of Cost-Price of Price of Rate of Deviation of 
+
+' Value Commodities Commodities Commodities Profit Price from Value 
+
+
+
+. 80c+20v 20 
+
+
+90 
+
+
+70 
+
+
+92 
+
+
+22% 
+
+
++2 
+
+
+I.70c+30v 30 
+
+
+111 
+
+
+81 
+
+
+103 
+
+
+22% 
+
+
+-8 
+
+
+II. 60c+40v 40 
+
+
+131 
+
+
+91 
+
+
+113 
+
+
+22% 
+
+
+-18 
+
+
+V. 85c+15v 15 
+
+
+70 
+
+
+55 
+
+
+77 
+
+
+22% 
+
+
++7 
+
+
+/. 95c+5v 5 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+15 
+
+
+37 
+
+
+22% 
+
+
++17 
+
+
+
+Taken together, the commodities are sold at 2+7+17=26 above, and 8+18=26 below their value, so that 
+the deviations of price from value balance out one another through the uniform distribution of 
+surplus-value, or through addition of the average profit of 22 per 100 units of advanced capital to the 
+respective cost-prices of the commodities I to V. One portion of the commodities is sold above its value 
+in the same proportion in which the other is sold below it. And it is only the sale of the commodities at 
+such prices that enables the rate of profit for capitals I to V to be uniformly 22%, regardless of their 
+different organic composition. The prices which obtain as the average of the various rates of profit in the 
+different spheres of production added tithe cost-prices of the different spheres of production, constitute 
+the prices of production. They have as their prerequisite the existence of a general rate of profit, and this, 
+again, presupposes that the rates of profit in every individual sphere of production taken by itself have 
+previously been reduced to just as many average rates. These particular rates of profit = s/c in every 
+sphere of production, and must, as occurs in Part I of this book, be deduced out of the values of the 
+commodities. Without such deduction the general rate of profit (and consequently the price of production 
+of commodities) remains a vague and senseless conception.Hence, the price of production of a 
+commodity is equal to its cost-price plus the profit, allotted to it in per cent, in accordance with the 
+general rate of profit, or, in other words, to its cost - price plus the average profit. 
+
+Owing to the different organic compositions of capitals invested in different lines of production, and, 
+hence, owing to the circumstance that — depending on the different percentage which the variable part 
+makes up in a total capital of a given magnitude — capitals of equal magnitude put into motion very 
+different quantities of labour, they also appropriate very different quantities of surplus-labour or produce 
+very different quantities of surplus-value. Accordingly, the rates of profit prevailing in the various 
+branches of production are originally very different. These different rates of profit are equalized by 
+competition to a single general rate of profit, which is the average of all these different rates of profit. 
+The profit accruing in accordance with this general rate of profit to any capital of a given magnitude, 
+whatever its organic composition, is called the average profit. The price of a commodity, which is equal 
+to its cost-price plus the share of the annual average profit on the total capital invested (not merely 
+consumed) in its production that falls to it in accordance with the conditions of turnover, is called its 
+price of production. Take, for example, a capital of 500, of which 100 is fixed capital, and let 10% of this 
+wear out during one turnover of the circulating capital of 400. Let the average profit for the period of 
+turnover be 10%. In that case the cost-price of the product created during this turnover will be 10c for 
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 9 
+
+wear plus 400 (c+v) circulating capital = 410, and its price of production will be 410 cost-price plus 
+(10% profit on 500) 50=460. 
+
+Thus, although in selling their commodities the capitalists of the various spheres of production recover 
+the value of the capital consumed in their production, they do not secure the surplus-value, and 
+consequently the profit, created in their own sphere by the production of these commodities. What they 
+secure is only as much surplus-value, and hence profit, as falls, when uniformly distributed, to the share 
+of every aliquot part of the total social capital from the total social surplus-value, or profit, produced in a 
+given time by the social capital in all spheres of production. Every 100 of an invested capital, whatever 
+its composition, draws as much profit in a year, or any other period of time, as falls to the share of every 
+100, the Nth part of the total capital, during the same period. So far as profits are concerned, the various 
+capitalists are just so many stockholders in a stock company in which the shares of profit are uniformly 
+divided per 100, so that profits differ in the case of the individual capitalists only in accordance with the 
+amount of capital invested by each in the aggregate enterprise, i.e., according to his investment in social 
+production as a whole, according to the number of his shares. Therefore, the portion of the price of 
+commodities which replaces the elements of capital consumed in the production of these commodities, 
+the portion, therefore, which will have to be used to buy back these consumed capital- values, i.e., their 
+cost-price, depends entirely on the outlay of capital within the respective spheres of production. But the 
+other element of the price of commodities, the profit added to this cost-price, does not depend on the 
+amount of profit produced in a given sphere of production by a given capital in a given period of time. It 
+depends on the mass of profit which falls as an average for any given period to each individual capital as 
+an aliquot part of the total social capital invested in social production. 
+
+When a capitalist sells his commodities at their price of production, therefore, he recovers money in 
+proportion to the value of the capital consumed in their production and secures profit in proportion to this 
+advanced capital as the aliquot part in the total social capital. His cost-prices are specific. But the profit 
+added to them is independent of his particular sphere of production, being a simple average per 100 units 
+of invested capital. 
+
+Let us assume that the five different investments I to V of the foregoing illustration belong to one man. 
+The quantity of variable and constant capital consumed per 100 of the invested capital in each of the 
+departments I to V in the production of commodities I to V would, needless to say, make up a part of 
+their price, since at least this price is required to recover the advanced and consumed portions of the 
+capital. These cost-prices would therefore be different for each class of the commodities I to V, and 
+would as such be set differently by the owner. But as regards the different quantities of surplus-value, or 
+profit, produced by I to V, they might easily be regarded by the capitalist as profit on his advanced 
+aggregate capital, so that each 100 units would get their definite aliquot part. Hence, the cost-prices of 
+the commodities produced in the various departments I to V would be different; but that portion of their 
+selling price derived from the profit added per 100 capital would be the same for all these commodities. 
+The aggregate price of the commodities I to V would therefore equal their aggregate value, i.e., the sum 
+of the cost-prices I to V plus the sum of the surplus-values, or profits, produced in I to V. It would hence 
+actually be the money-expression of the total quantity of past and newly applied labour incorporated in 
+commodities I to V. And in the same way the sum of the prices of production of all commodities 
+produced in society — the totality of all branches of production — is equal to the sum of their values. 
+
+This statement seems to conflict with the fact that under capitalist production the elements of productive 
+capital are, as a rule, bought on the market, and that for this reason their prices include profit which has 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 9 
+
+already been realised, hence, include the price of production of the respective branch of industry together 
+with the profit contained in it, so that the profit of one branch of industry goes into the cost-price of 
+another. But if we place the sum of the cost-prices of the commodities of an entire country on one side, 
+and the sum of its surplus-values, or profits, on the other, the calculation must evidently be right. For 
+instance, take a certain commodity A.. Its cost-price may contain the profits of B, C, D, etc., just as the 
+cost-prices of B, C, D, etc., may contain the profits of A. Now, as we make our calculation the profit of A 
+will not be included in its cost-price, nor will the profits of B, C, D, etc., be included in theirs. Nobody 
+ever includes his own profit in his cost-price. If there are, therefore, n spheres of production, and if each 
+makes a profit amounting to p, then their aggregate cost-price = k-np. Considering the calculation as a 
+whole we see that since the profits of one sphere of production pass into the cost-price of another, they 
+are therefore included in the calculation as constituents of the total price of the end-product, and so 
+cannot appear a second time on the profit side. If any do appear on this side, however, then only because 
+the commodity in question is itself an ultimate product, whose price of production does not pass into the 
+cost-price of some other commodity. 
+
+If the cost-price of a commodity includes a sum = p, which stands for the profits of the producers of the 
+means of production, and if a profit=pl is added to this cost-price, the aggregate profit P=P+P1. The 
+aggregate cost-price of the commodity, considered without the profit portions, is then its own cost-price 
+minus P. Let this cost-price be k. Then, obviously, k+p=k+p+pl. In dealing with surplus-values, we have 
+seen in Book I that the product of every capital may be so treated, as though a part of it replaces only 
+capital, while the other part represents only surplus-value. In applying this approach to the aggregate 
+product of society, we must make some rectifications. Looking upon society as a whole, the profit 
+contained in, say, the price of flax cannot appear twice — not both as a portion of the linen price and as 
+the profit of the flax. 
+
+There is no difference between surplus-value and profit, as long as, e.g., A's surplus-value passes into B's 
+constant capital. It is, after all, quite immaterial to the value of the commodities, whether the labour 
+contained in them is paid or unpaid. This merely shows that B pays for A's 's surplus-value. A's 
+surplus-value cannot be entered twice in the total calculation. 
+
+But the difference is this: Aside from the fact that the price of a particular product, let us say that of 
+capital B, differs from its value because the surplus- value realised in B may be greater or smaller than the 
+profit added to the price of the products of B, the same circumstance applies also to those commodities 
+which form the constant part of capital B, and indirectly also its variable part, as the labourers' necessities 
+of life. So far as the constant portion is concerned, it is itself equal to the cost-price plus the 
+surplus-value, here therefore equal to cost-price plus profit, and this profit may again be greater or 
+smaller than the surplus-value for which it stands. As for the variable capital, the average daily wage is 
+indeed always equal to the value produced in the number of hours the labourer must work to produce the 
+necessities of life. But this number of hours is in its turn obscured by the deviation of the prices of 
+production of the necessities of life from their values. However, this always resolves itself to one 
+commodity receiving too little of the surplus-value while another receives too much, so that the 
+deviations from the value which are embodied in the prices of production compensate one another. Under 
+capitalist production, the general law acts as the prevailing tendency only in a very complicated and 
+approximate manner, as a never ascertainable average of ceaseless fluctuations. 
+
+Since the general rate of profit is formed by taking the average of the various rates of profit for each 100 
+of capital invested in a definite period, e.g., a year, it follows that in it the difference brought about by 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 9 
+
+different periods of turnover of different capitals is also effaced. But these differences have a decisive 
+bearing on the different rates of profit in the various spheres of production whose average forms the 
+general rate of profit. 
+
+In the preceding illustration concerning the formation of the average rate of profit we assumed each 
+capital in each sphere of production=100, and we did so to show the difference in the rates of profit in 
+per cent, and thus also the difference in the values of commodities produced by equal amounts of capital. 
+But it goes without saying that the actual amounts of surplus-value produced in each sphere of 
+production depend on the magnitude of the invested capitals, since the composition of capital is given in 
+each sphere of production. Yet the actual rate of profit in any particular sphere of production is not 
+affected by the fact that the capital invested is 100, or m times 100, or xm times 100. The rate of profit 
+remains 10%, whether the total profit is 10: 100, or 1,000: 10,000. 
+
+However, since the rates of profit differ in the various spheres of production, with very much different 
+quantities of surplus-value, or profit, being produced in them, depending on the proportion of the variable 
+to the total capital, it is evident that the average profit per 100 of the social capital, and hence the 
+average, or general, rate of profit, will differ considerably in accordance with the respective magnitudes 
+of the capitals invested in the various spheres. Let us take four capitals A, B, C, D. Let the rate of 
+surplus-value for all=100%. Let the variable capital for each 100 of the total be 25 in A, 40 in B, 15 in C, 
+and 10 in D. Then each 100 of the total capital would yield a surplus-value, or profit, of 25 in A, 40 in B, 
+15 in C, and 10 in D. This would total 90, and if these four capitals are of the same magnitude, the 
+average rate of profit would then be 90/4 or 22 1/2%. 
+
+Suppose, however, the total capitals are as follows: A=200, B=300, C= 1,000, D=4,000. The profits 
+produced would then respectively=50, 120, 150, and 400. This makes a profit of 720, and an average rate 
+of profit of 13 1/11% for 5,500, the sum of the four capitals. 
+
+The masses of the total value produced differ in accordance with the magnitudes of the total capitals 
+invested in A, B, C, D, respectively. The formation of the average rate of profit is, therefore, not merely a 
+matter of obtaining the simple average of the different rates of profit in the various spheres of production, 
+but rather one of the relative weight which these different rates of profit have in forming this average. 
+This, however, depends on the relative magnitude of the capital invested in each particular sphere, or on 
+the aliquot part which the capital invested in each particular sphere forms in the aggregate social capital. 
+There will naturally be a very great difference, depending on whether a greater or smaller part of the total 
+capital produces a higher or lower rate of profit. And this, again, depends on how much capital is 
+invested in spheres, in which the variable capital is relatively small or large compared to the total capital. 
+It is just like the average interest obtained by a usurer who lends various quantities of capital at different 
+interest rates; for instance, at 4, 5, 6, 7%, etc. The average rate will depend entirely on how much of his 
+capital he has loaned out at each of the different rates of interest. 
+
+The general rate of profit is, therefore, determined by two factors: 
+
+1) The organic composition of the capitals in the different spheres of production, and thus, the different 
+rates of pro fit in the individual spheres. 
+
+2) The distribution of the total social capital in these different spheres, and thus, the relative magnitude of 
+the capital invested in each particular sphere at the specific rate of profit prevailing in it; i.e., the relative 
+share of the total social capital absorbed by each individual sphere of production. 
+
+In Books I and II we dealt only with the value of commodities. On the one hand, the cost-price has now 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 9 
+
+been singled out as a part of this value, and, on the other, the price of production of commodities has 
+been developed as its converted form. 
+
+Suppose the composition of the average social capital is 80c+20v and the annual rate of surplus-value, s', 
+is 100%. In that case the average annual profit for a capital of 100=20, and the general annual rate of 
+profit=20%. Whatever the cost-price, k, of the commodities annually produced by a capital of 100, their 
+price of production would then be k+20. In those spheres of production in which the composition of 
+capital would = (80-x)c +(20+x)v, the actually produced surplus-value, or the annual profit produced in 
+that particular sphere, would be 20+x, that is, greater than 20, and the value of the produced 
+commodities=k+20+x, that is, greater than k+20, or greater than their price of production. In those 
+spheres, in which the composition of the capital=(80+x)c+(20-x)v, the annually produced surplus-value, 
+or profit, would= 20-x, or less than 20, and consequently the value of the commodities k+20-x less than 
+the price of production, which=k+20. Aside from possible differences in the periods of turnover, the 
+price of production of the commodities would then equal their value only in spheres, in which the 
+composition would happen to be 80c+20v. 
+
+The specific development of the social productivity of labour in each particular sphere of production 
+varies in degree, higher or lower, depending on how large a quantity of means of production are set in 
+motion by a definite quantity of labour, hence in a given working-day by a definite number of labourers, 
+and, consequently, on how small a quantity of labour is required for a given quantity of means of 
+production. Such capitals as contain a larger percentage of constant and a smaller percentage of variable 
+capital than the average social capital are, therefore, called capitals of higher composition, and, 
+conversely, those capitals in which the constant is relatively smaller, and the variable relatively greater 
+than in the average social capital, are called capitals of lower composition. Finally, we call those capitals 
+whose composition coincides with the average, capitals of average composition. Should the average 
+social capital be composed in per cent of 80c+20v, then a capital of 90c+lOv is higher, and a capital of 
+70c+ +30v lower than the social average. Generally speaking, if the composition of the average social 
+capital=mc+nv, in which m and n are constant magnitudes and m+n=100, the formula (m+x)c+(n-x)v 
+represents the higher composition, and (m-x)c+ +(n+x)v the lower composition of an individual capital 
+or group of capitals. The way in which these capitals perform their functions after establishment of an 
+average rate of profit and assuming one turnover per year, is shown in the following tabulation, in which 
+I represents the average composition with an average rate of profit of 20%. 
+
+I) 80v+20v+20s. Rate of profit=20%. 
+
+Price of product=120. Value=120. 
+
+II) 90c+10v+10s. Rate of profit=20%. 
+
+Price of product=120. Value=110. 
+
+III) 70c+30v+30s. Rate of profit=20%. 
+
+Price of product=120. Value=130. 
+
+The value of the commodities produced by capital II would, therefore, be smaller than their price of 
+production, the price of production of the commodities of III smaller than their value, and only in the 
+case of capital I in branches of production in which the composition happens to coincide with the social 
+average, would value and price of production be equal. In applying these terms to any particular cases 
+note must, however, be taken whether a deviation of the ratio between c and v is simply due to a change 
+in the value of the elements of constant capital, rather than to a difference in the technical composition. 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 9 
+
+The foregoing statements have at any rate modified the original assumption concerning the determination 
+of the cost-price of commodities. We had originally assumed that the cost-price of a commodity equalled 
+the value of the commodities consumed in its production. But for the buyer the price of production of a 
+specific commodity is its cost-price, and may thus pass as cost-price into the prices of other commodities. 
+Since the price of production may differ from the value of a commodity, it follows that the cost-price of a 
+commodity containing this price of production of another commodity may also stand above or below that 
+portion of its total value derived from the value of the means of production consumed by it. It is 
+necessary to remember this modified significance of the cost-price, and to bear in mind that there is 
+always the possibility of an error if the cost-price of a commodity in any particular sphere is identified 
+with the value of the means of production consumed by it. Our present analysis does not necessitate a 
+closer examination of this point. It remains true, nevertheless, that the cost-price of a commodity is 
+always smaller than its value. For no matter how much the cost-price of a commodity may differ from 
+the value of the means of production consumed by it, this past mistake is immaterial to the capitalist. The 
+cost-price of a particular commodity is a definite condition which is given, and independent of the 
+production of our capitalist, while the result of his production is a commodity containing surplus-value, 
+therefore an excess of value over and above its cost-price. For all other purposes, the statement that the 
+cost-price is smaller than the value of a commodity has now changed practically into the statement that 
+the cost-price is smaller than the price of production. As concerns the total social capital, in which the 
+price of production is equal to the value, this statement is identical with the former, namely that the 
+cost-price is smaller than the value. And while it is modified in the individual spheres of production, the 
+fundamental fact always remains that in the case of the total social capital the cost-price of the 
+commodities produced by it is smaller than their value, or, in the case of the total mass of social 
+commodities, smaller than their price of production, which is identical with their value. The cost-price of 
+a commodity refers only to the quantity of paid labour contained in it, while its value refers to all the paid 
+and unpaid labour contained in it. The price of production refers to the sum of the paid labour plus a 
+certain quantity of unpaid labour determined for any particular sphere of production by conditions over 
+which it has no control. 
+
+The formula that the price of production of a commodity=k+p, i.e., equals its cost-price plus profit, is 
+now more precisely defined with p=kp' (p' being the general rate of profit). Hence the price of 
+production=k+kp'. If k=300 and p'=15%, then the price of production is k+kp'=300+300xl5/100, or 345. 
+
+The price of production of the commodities in any particular sphere may change in magnitude: 
+
+1) If the general rate of profit changes independently of this particular sphere, while the value of the 
+commodities remains the same (the same quantities of congealed and living labour being consumed in 
+their production as before). 
+
+2) If there is a change of value, either in this particular sphere in consequence of technical changes, or in 
+consequence of a change in the value of those commodities which form the elements of its constant 
+capital, while the general rate of profit remains unchanged. 
+
+3) Finally, if a combination of the two aforementioned circumstances takes place. 
+
+In spite of the great changes occurring continually, as we shall see, in the actual rates of profit within the 
+individual spheres of production, any real change in the general rate of profit, unless brought about by 
+way of an exception by extraordinary economic events, is the belated effect of a series of fluctuations 
+extending over very long periods, fluctuations which require much time before consolidating and 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 9 
+
+equalising one another to bring about a change in the general rate of profit. In all shorter periods (quite 
+aside from fluctuations of market-prices), a change in the prices of production is, therefore, always 
+traceable prima facie to actual changes in the value of commodities, i.e., to changes in the total amount of 
+labour-time required for their production. Mere changes in the money-expression of the same values are, 
+naturally, not at all considered here. 
+
+On the other hand, it is evident that from the point of view of the total social capital the value of the 
+commodities produced by it (or, expressed in money, their price)=value of constant capital+value of 
+variable capital+surplus-value. Assuming the degree of labour exploitation to be constant, the rate of 
+profit cannot change so long as the mass of surplus-value remains the same, unless there is a change in 
+either the value of the constant capitaL the value of the variable capital, or the value of both, so that C 
+changes, and thereby s/C, which represents the general rate of profit In each case, therefore, a change in 
+the general rate of profit implies a change in the value of commodities which form the elements of the 
+constant or variable capital, or of both. 
+
+Or, the general rate of profit may change, while the value of the commodities remains the same, when the 
+degree of labour exploitation changes. 
+
+Or, if the degree of labour exploitation remains the same, the general rate of profit may change through a 
+change in the amount of labour employed relative to the constant capital as a result of technical changes 
+in the labour-process. But such technical changes must always show themselves in, and be attended by, a 
+change in the value of the commodities, whose production would then require more or less labour than 
+before. 
+
+We saw in Part I that surplus-value and profit are identical from the standpoint of their mass. But the rate 
+of profit is from the very outset distinct from the rate of surplus-value, which appears at first sight as 
+merely a different form of calculating. But at the same time this serves, also from the outset, to obscure 
+and mystify the actual origin of surplus-value, since the rate of profit can rise or fall while the rate of 
+surplus-value remains the same, and vice versa, and since the capitalist is in practice solely interested in 
+the rate of profit. Yet there was difference of magnitude only between the rate of surplus-value and the 
+rate of profit and not between the surplus-value itself and profit. Since in the rate of profit the 
+surplus-value is calculated in relation to the total capital and the latter is taken as its standard of 
+measurement, the surplus-value itself appears to originate from the total capital, uniformly derived from 
+all its parts, so that the organic difference between constant and variable capital is obliterated in the 
+conception of profit. Disguised as profit, surplus-value actually denies its origin, loses its character, and 
+becomes unrecognisable. However, hitherto the distinction between profit and surplus-value applied 
+solely to a qualitative change, or change of form, while there was no real difference of magnitude in this 
+first stage of the change between surplus-value and profit, but only between the rate of profit and the rate 
+of surplus-value. 
+
+But it is different, as soon as a general rate of profit, and thereby an average profit corresponding to the 
+magnitude of invested capital given in the various spheres of production, have been established. 
+
+It is then only an accident if the surplus-value, and thus the profit, actually produced in any particular 
+sphere of production, coincides with the profit contained in the selling price of a commodity. As a rule, 
+surplus-value and profit and not their rates alone, are then different magnitudes. At a given degree of 
+exploitation, the mass of surplus-value produced in a particular sphere of production is then more 
+important for the aggregate average profit of social capital, and thus for the capitalist class in general, 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 9 
+
+than for the individual capitalist in any specific branch of production. It is of importance to the latter only 
+in so far as the quantity of surplus-value produced in his branch helps to regulate the average profit. But 
+this is a process which occurs behind his back, one he does not see, nor understand, and which indeed 
+does not interest him. The actual difference of magnitude between profit and surplus-value — not merely 
+between the rate of profit and the rate of surplus-value — in the various spheres of production now 
+completely conceals the true nature and origin of profit not only from the capitalist, who has a special 
+interest in deceiving himself on this score, but also from the labourer. The transformation of values into 
+prices of production serves to obscure the basis for determining value itself. Finally, since the mere 
+transformation of surplus-value into profit distinguishes the portion of the value of a commodity forming 
+the profit from the portion forming its cost-price, it is natural that the conception of value should elude 
+the capitalist at this juncture, for he does not see the total labour put into the commodity, but only that 
+portion of the total labour for which he has paid in the shape of means of production, be they living or 
+not, so that his profit appears to him as something outside the immanent value of the commodity. Now 
+this idea is fully confirmed, fortified, and ossified in that, from the standpoint of his particular sphere of 
+production, the profit added to the cost-price is not actually determined by the limits of the formation of 
+value within his own sphere, but through completely outside influences. 
+
+The fact that this intrinsic connection is here revealed for the first time; that up to the present time 
+political economy, as we shall see in the following and in Book IV, either forcibly abstracted itself from 
+the distinctions between surplus-value and profit, and their rates, so it could retain value determination as 
+a basis, or else abandoned this value determination and with it all vestiges of a scientific approach, in 
+order to cling to the differences that strike the eye in this phenomenon — this confusion of the theorists 
+best illustrates the utter incapacity of the practical capitalist, blinded by competition as he is, and 
+incapable of penetrating its phenomena, to recognise the inner essence and inner structure of this process 
+behind its outer appearance. 
+
+In fact, all the laws evolved in Part I concerning the rise and fall of the rate of profit have the following 
+two-fold meaning: 
+
+1) On the one hand, they are the laws of the general rate of profit. In view of the many different causes 
+which make the rate of profit rise or fall one would think, after everything that has been said and done, 
+that the general rate of profit must change every day. But a trend in one sphere of production 
+compensates for that in another, their effects cross and paralyse one another. We shall later examine to 
+which side these fluctuations ultimately gravitate. But they are slow. The suddenness, multiplicity, and 
+different duration of the fluctuations in the individual spheres of production make them compensate for 
+one another in the order of their succession in time, a fall in prices following a rise, and vice versa, so 
+that they remain limited to local, i.e., individual, spheres. Finally, the various local fluctuations neutralise 
+one another. Within each individual sphere of production, there take place changes, i.e., deviations from 
+the general rate of profit, which counterbalance one another in a definite time on the one hand, and thus 
+have no influence upon the general rate of profit, and which, on the other, do not react upon it, because 
+they are balanced by other simultaneous local fluctuations. Since the general rate of profit is not only 
+determined by the average rate of profit in each sphere, but also by the distribution of the total social 
+capital among the different individual spheres, and since this distribution is continually changing, it 
+becomes another constant cause of change in the general rate of profit. But it is a cause of change which 
+mostly paralyses itself, owing to the uninterrupted and many-sided nature of this movement. 
+
+2) Within each sphere, there is some room for play for a longer or shorter space of time, in which the rate 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 9 
+
+of profit of this sphere may fluctuate, before this fluctuation consolidates sufficiently after rising or 
+falling to gain time for influencing the general rate of profit and therefore assuming more than local 
+importance. The laws of the rate of profit, as developed in Part I of this book, likewise remain applicable 
+within these limits of space and time. 
+
+The theoretical conception concerning the first transformation of surplus-value into profit, that every part 
+of a capital yields a uniform profit, expresses a practical fact. Whatever the composition of an industrial 
+capital, whether it sets in motion one quarter of congealed labour and three-quarters of living labour, or 
+three-quarters of congealed labour and one-quarter of living labour, whether in one case it absorbs three 
+times as much surplus-labour, or produces three times as much surplus-value than in another — in either 
+case it yields the same profit, given the same degree of labour exploitation and leaving aside individual 
+differences, which, incidentally, disappear because we are dealing in both cases with the average 
+composition of the entire sphere of production. The individual capitalist (or all the capitalists in each 
+individual sphere of production), whose outlook is limited, rightly believes that his profit is not derived 
+solely from the labour employed by him, or in his line of production. This is quite true, as far as his 
+average profit is concerned. To what extent this profit is due to the aggregate exploitation of labour on 
+the part of the total social capital, i.e., by all his capitalist colleagues — this interrelation is a complete 
+mystery to the individual capitalist; all the more so, since no bourgeois theorists, the political economists, 
+have so far revealed it. A saving of labour — not only labour necessary to produce a certain product, but 
+also the number of employed labourers — and the employment of more congealed labour (constant 
+capital), appear to be very sound operations from the economic standpoint and do not seem to exert the 
+least influence on the general rate of profit and the average profit. How could living labour be the sole 
+source of profit, in view of the fact that a reduction in the quantity of labour required for production 
+appears not to exert any influence on profit? Moreover, it even seems in certain circumstances to be the 
+nearest source of an increase of profits, at least for the individual capitalist. 
+
+If in any particular sphere of production there is a rise or fall of the portion of the cost-price which 
+represents the value of constant capital, this portion comes from the circulation and, either enlarged or 
+reduced, passes from the very outset into the process of production of the commodity. If, on the other 
+hand, the same number of labourers produces more or less in the same time, so that the quantity of labour 
+required for the production of a definite quantity of commodities varies while the number of labourers 
+remains the same, that portion of the cost-price which represents the value of the variable capital may 
+remain the same, i.e., contribute the same amount to the cost-price of tho total product. But every one of 
+the individual commodities whose sum makes up the total product, shares in more or less labour (paid 
+and therefore also unpaid), and shares consequently in the greater or smaller outlay for this labour, i.e., a 
+larger or smaller portion of the wage. The total wages paid by the capitalist remain the same, but wages 
+differ if calculated per piece of the commodity Thus, there is a change in this portion of the cost-price of 
+the commodity. But no matter whether the cost-price of the individual commodity (or, perhaps, the 
+cost-price of the sum of commodities produced by a capital of a given magnitude) rises or falls, be it due 
+to such changes in its own value, or in that of its elements, the average profit of, e.g., 10% remains 10%. 
+Still, 10% of an individual commodity may represent very different amounts, depending on the change of 
+magnitude caused in the cost-price of the individual commodity by such changes of value as we have 
+assumed. 
+
+So far as the variable capital is concerned — and this is most important, because it is the source of 
+surplus-value, and because anything which conceals its relation to the accumulation of wealth by the 
+capitalist serves to mystify the entire system — matters get cruder or appear to the capitalist in the 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 9 
+
+following light: A variable capital of £100 represents the weekly wage of, say, 100 labourers. If these 
+100 labourers weekly produce 200 pieces of a commodity=200C, in a given working-time, then 1C — 
+abstracted from that portion of its cost-price which is added by the con stant capital, costs £100/200=10 
+shillings, since £100=200C. Now suppose that a change occurs in the productiveness of labour. Suppose 
+it doubles, so that the same number of labourers now produces twice 200C in the time which it 
+previously took to produce 200C. In that case (considering only that part of the cost-price which consists 
+of wages) lC=£100/400 = 5 shillings, since now £100=400C. Should the productiveness decrease 
+one-half, the same labour would produce only 200C/2 and since £100= 200C/2, lC=£200/2 = £1. The 
+changes in the labour-time required for the production of the commodities, and hence the changes in their 
+value, thus appear in regard to the cost-price, and hence to the price of production, as a different 
+distribution of the same wage for more or fewer commodities, depending on the greater or smaller 
+quantity of commodities produced in the same working-time for the same wage. What the capitalist, and 
+consequently also the political economist, see is that the part of the paid labour per piece of commodity 
+changes with the productivity of labour, and that the value of each piece also changes accordingly. What 
+they do not see is that the same applies to unpaid labour contained in very piece of the commodity, and 
+this is perceived so much less since the average profit actually is only accidentally determined by the 
+unpaid labour absorbed in the sphere of the individual capitalist. It is only in such crude and meaningless 
+form that we can glimpse that the value of commodities is determined by the labour contained in them. 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter Ten 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 10 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Part II 
+
+CONVERSION OF PROFIT INTO AVERAGE PROFIT 
+
+
+
+Chapter X 
+
+EQUALISATION OF THE GENERAL RATE OF 
+
+PROFIT 
+
+THROUGH COMPETITION. 
+
+MARKET-PRICES AND MARKET-VALUES. 
+
+SURPLUS-PROFIT 
+
+
+
+The capital invested in some spheres of production has a mean, or average, composition, that is, it has the 
+same, or almost the same composition as the average social capital. 
+
+In these spheres the price of production is exactly or almost the same as the value of the produced 
+commodity expressed in money. If there were no other way of reaching a mathematical limit, this would 
+be the one. Competition so distributes the social capital among the various spheres of production that the 
+prices of production in each sphere take shape according to the model of the prices of production in these 
+spheres of average composition, i.e., they=k+kp' (cost-price plus the average rate of profit multiplied by 
+the cost price). This average rate of profit, however, is the percentage of profit in that sphere of average 
+composition in which profit, therefore, coincides with surplus-value. Hence, the rate of profit is the same 
+in all spheres of production, for it is equalized on the basis of those average spheres of production which 
+has the average composition of capital. Consequently, the sum of the profits in all spheres of production 
+must equal the sum of the surplus-values, and the sum of the prices of production of the total social 
+product equal the sum of its value. But it is evident that the balance among spheres of production of 
+different composition must tend to equalize them with the spheres of average composition, be it exactly 
+or only approximately the same as the social average. Between the spheres more or less approximating 
+the average there is again a tendency toward equalization, seeking the ideal average, i.e., an average that 
+does not really exist, i.e., a tendency to take this ideal as a standard. In this way the tendency necessarily 
+prevails to make the prices of production merely converted forms of value, or to turn profits into mere 
+portions of surplus-value. However, these are not distributed in proportion to the surplus-value produced 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 10 
+
+in each special sphere of production, but rather in proportion to the mass of capital employed in each 
+sphere, so that equal masses of capital, whatever their composition, receive equal aliquot shares of the 
+total surplus-value produced by the total social capital. 
+
+In the case of capitals of average, or approximately average, composition, the price of production is thus 
+the same or almost the same as the value, and the profit the same as the surplus-value produced by them. 
+All other capitals, of whatever composition, tend toward this average under pressure of competition. But 
+since the capitals of average composition are of the same, or approximately the same, structure as the 
+average social capital, all capitals have the tendency, regardless of the surplus-value produced by them, 
+to realize the average profit, rather than their own surplus-value in the price of their commodity, i.e., to 
+realize the prices of production. 
+
+On the other hand, it may be said that wherever an average profit, and therefore a general rate of profit, 
+are produced — no matter by what means — such an average profit cannot be anything but the profit on 
+the average social capital, whose sum is equal to the sum of surplus-value. Moreover, the prices obtained 
+by adding this average profit to the cost-prices cannot be anything but the values transmuted into prices 
+of production. Nothing would be altered if capitals in certain spheres of production would not, for some 
+reason, be subject to the process of equalization. The average profit would then be computed on that 
+portion of the social capital which enters the equalization process, it is evident that the average profit can 
+be nothing but the total mass of surplus-values allotted to the various quantities of capital proportionally 
+to their magnitudes in their different spheres of production. It is the total realized unpaid labour, and this 
+total mass, like the paid, congealed or living, labour, obtains in the total mass of commodities and money 
+that falls to the capitalists. 
+
+The really difficult question is this: how is this equalization of profits into a general rate of profit brought 
+about, since it is obviously a result rather than a point of departure? 
+
+To begin with, an estimate of the values of commodities, for instance in terms of money, can obviously 
+only be the result of their exchange. If, therefore, we assume such an estimate, we must regard it as the 
+outcome of an actual exchange of commodity-value for commodity- value. But how does this exchange 
+of commodities at their real value come about? 
+
+Let us first assume that all commodities in the different branches of production are sold at their real 
+values. What would then be the outcome? According to the foregoing, very different rates of profit would 
+then reign in the various spheres of production. It is prima facie two entirely different matters whether 
+commodities are sold at their values (i.e., exchanged in proportion to the value contained in them at 
+prices corresponding to their value), or whether they are sold at such prices that their sale yields equal 
+profits for equal masses of the capital advanced for their respective production. 
+
+The fact that capitals employing unequal amounts of living labour produce unequal amounts of 
+surplus-value, presupposes at least to a certain extent that the degree of exploitation or the rate of 
+surplus-value are the same, or that any existing differences in them are equalized by real or imaginary 
+(conventional) grounds of compensation. This would assume competition among labourers and 
+equalization through their continual migration from one sphere of production to another. Such a general 
+rate of surplus-value — viewed as a tendency, like all other economic laws — has been assumed by us for 
+the sake of theoretical simplification. But in reality it is an actual premise of the capitalist mode of 
+production, although it is more or less obstructed by practical frictions causing more or less considerable 
+local differences, such as the settlement laws for farm-labourers in Britain. But in theory it is assumed 
+
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+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 10 
+
+that the laws of capitalist production operate in their pure form. In reality there exists only 
+approximation; but, this approximation is the greater, the more developed the capitalist mode of 
+production and the less it is adulterated and amalgamated with survivals of former economic conditions. 
+
+The whole difficulty arises from the fact that commodities are not exchanged simply as commodities, but 
+as products of capitals, which claim participation in the total amount of surplus-value, proportional to 
+their magnitude, or equal if they are of equal magnitude. And this claim is to be satisfied by the total 
+price for commodities produced by a given capital in a certain space of time. This total price is, however, 
+only the sum of the prices of the individual commodities produced by this capital. 
+
+The punctum saliens will be bet brought if we approach the matter as follows: suppose, the labourers 
+themselves are in possession of their respective means of production and exchange their commodities 
+with one another. In that case these commodities would not be products of capital. The value of the 
+various means of labour and raw materials would differ in accordance with the technical nature of the 
+labours performed in the different branches of production. Furthermore, aside from the unequal value of 
+the means of production employed by them, they would require different quantities of means of 
+production for given quantities of labour, depending on whether a certain commodity can be finished in 
+one hour, another in one day, and so forth. Also suppose the labourers work an equal average length of 
+time, allowing for compensations that arise from the different labour intensities, etc. In such a case, two 
+labourers would, first, both have replaced their outlays, the cost-prices of the consumed means of 
+production, in the commodities which make up the product of their day's work. These outlays would 
+differ, depending on the technical nature of their labour. Secondly, both of them would have created 
+equal amounts of new value, namely the working-day added by them to the means of production. This 
+would comprise their wages plus the surplus-value, the latter representing surplus-labour over and above 
+their necessary wants, the product of which would however belong to them. To put it the capitalist way, 
+both of them receive the same wages plus the same profit, or the same value, expressed, say, by the 
+product of a ten-hour working-day. But in the first place, the values of their commodities would have to 
+differ. In commodity I, for instance, the portion of value corresponding to the consumed means of 
+production might be higher than in commodity II. And, to introduce all possible differences, we might 
+assume right now that commodity I absorbs more living labour, and consequently requires more 
+labour-time to be produced, than commodity II. The values of commodities I and II are, therefore, very 
+different. So are the sums of the values of the commodities, which represent the product of the labour 
+performed by labourers I and II in a given time. The rates of profit would also differ considerably for I 
+and II if we take the rate of profit to be the proportion of the surplus-value to the total value of the 
+invested means of production. The means of subsistence daily consumed by I and II during production, 
+which take the place of wages, here form the part of the invested means of production ordinarily called 
+variable capital. But for equal working periods the surplus values would be the same for I and II, or, 
+more precisely, since I and II each receive the value of the product of a day's work, both of them receive 
+equal values after the value of the invested "constant" elements has been deducted, and one portion of 
+those equal values may be regarded as a substitute for the means of subsistence consumed in production, 
+and the other as surplus-value in excess of it. If labourer I has greater expenses, they are made good by a 
+greater portion of the value of his commodity, which replaces this "constant " part, and he therefore has 
+to reconvert a larger portion of the total value of his product into the material elements of this constant 
+part, while labourer II, though receiving less for this, has so much less to reconvert. In these 
+circumstances, a difference in the rates of profit would therefore be immaterial, just as it is immaterial to 
+the wage-labourer today what rate of profit may express the amount of surplus-value filched from him, 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 10 
+
+and just as in international commerce the difference in the various national rates of profit is immaterial to 
+commodity exchange. 
+
+The exchange of commodities at their values, or approximately at their values, thus requires a much 
+lower stage than their exchange at their prices of production, which requires a definite level of capitalist 
+development. 
+
+Whatever the manner in which the prices of various commodities are first mutually fixed or regulated, 
+their movements are always governed by the law of value. If the labour-time required for their 
+production happens to shrink, prices fall; if it increases, prices rise, provided other conditions remain the 
+same. 
+
+Apart from the domination of prices and price movement by the law of value, it is quite appropriate to 
+regard the values of commodities as not only theoretically but also historically prius to the prices of 
+production. This applies to conditions in which the labourer owns his means of production, and this is the 
+condition of the land-owning farmer living off his own labour and the craftsman, in the ancient as well as 
+in the modern world. This agrees also with the view we expressed previously that the evolution of 
+products into commodities arises through exchange between different communities, not between the 
+members of the same community. It holds not only for this primitive condition, but also for subsequent 
+conditions, based on slavery and serfdom, and for the guild organisation of handicrafts, so long as the 
+means of production involved in each branch of production can be transferred from one sphere to another 
+only with difficulty and therefore the various spheres of production are related to one another, within 
+certain limits, as foreign countries or communist communities. 
+
+For prices at which commodities are exchanged to approximately correspond to their values, nothing 
+more is necessary than 1) for the exchange of the various commodities to cease being purely accidental 
+or only occasional; 2) so far as direct exchange of commodities is concerned, for these commodities to be 
+produced on both sides in approximately sufficient quantities to meet mutual requirements, something 
+learned from mutual experience in trading and therefore a natural outgrowth of continued trading; and 3) 
+so far as selling is concerned, for no natural or artificial monopoly to enable either of the contracting 
+sides to sell commodities above their value or to compel them to undersell. By accidental monopoly we 
+mean a monopoly which a buyer or seller acquires through an accidental state of supply and demand. 
+
+The assumption that the commodities of the various spheres of production are sold at their value merely 
+implies, of course, that their value is the centre of gravity around which their prices fluctuate, and their 
+continual rises and drops tend to equalise. There is also the market-value — of which later — to be 
+distinguished from the individual value of particular commodities produced by different producers. The 
+individual value of some of these commodities will be below their market- value (that is, less labour time 
+is required for their production than expressed is the market value) while that of others will exceed the 
+market- value. On the one hand, market- value is to be viewed as the average value of commodities 
+produced in a single sphere, and, on the other, as the individual value of the commodities produced under 
+average conditions of their respective sphere and forming the bulk of the products of that sphere. It is 
+only in extraordinary combinations that commodities produced under the worst, or the most favourable, 
+conditions regulate the market- value, which, in turn, forms the centre of fluctuation for market-prices. 
+The latter, however, are the same for commodities of the same kind. If the ordinary demand is satisfied 
+by the supply of commodities of average value, hence of a value midway between the two extremes, then 
+the commodities whose individual value is below the market- value realise an extra surplus-value, or 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 10 
+
+surplus-profit, while those, whose individual value exceeds the market- value, are unable to realise a 
+portion of the surplus-value contained in them. 
+
+It does no good to say that the sale of commodities produced under the least favourable conditions proves 
+that they are required to satisfy the demand. If in the assumed case the price were higher than the average 
+market- value, the demand would be smaller. At a certain price, a commodity occupies just so much place 
+on the market. This place remains the same in case of a price change only if the higher price is 
+accompanied by a drop in the supply of the commodity, and a lower price by an increase of supply. And 
+if the demand is so great that it does not contract when the price is regulated by the value of commodities 
+produced under the least favourable conditions, then these determine the market-value. This is not 
+possible unless demand is greater than usual, or if supply drops below the usual level. Finally, if the mass 
+of the produced commodities exceeds the quantity disposed of at average market- values, the 
+commodities produced under the most favourable conditions regulate the market- value. They may, for 
+example, be sold exactly or approximately at their individual value, in which case the commodities 
+produced under the least favourable conditions may not even realise their cost-price, while those 
+produced under average conditions realise only a portion of the surplus-value contained in them. What 
+has been said here of market-value applies to the price of production as soon as it takes the place of 
+market- value. The price of production is regulated in each sphere, and likewise regulated by special 
+circumstances. And this price of production is, in its turn, the centre around which the daily 
+market-prices fluctuate and tend to equalise one another within definite periods. (See Ricardo on 
+determining the price of production through those working under the least favourable conditions.) 
+
+No matter how the prices are regulated, we arrive at the following: 
+
+1) The law of value dominates price movements with reductions or increases in required labour- time 
+making prices of production fall or rise. It is in this sense that Ricardo (who doubtlessly realised that his 
+prices of production deviated from the value of commodities) says that "the inquiry to which I wish to 
+draw the reader's attention relates to the effect of the variations in the relative value of commodities, and 
+not in their absolute value". 
+
+2 ) The average profit determining the prices of production must always be approximately equal to that 
+quantity of surplus-value which falls to the share of individual capital in its capacity of an aliquot part of 
+the total social capital. Suppose that the general rate of profit, and therefore the average profit, are 
+expressed by money- value greater than the money-value of the actual average surplus-value. So far as the 
+capitalists are concerned, it is then immaterial whether they reciprocally charge 10 or 15% profit. Neither 
+of these percentages covers more actual commodity-value than the other, since the overcharge in money 
+is mutual. As for the labourer (the assumption being that he receives his normal wage and the rise in the 
+average profit does not therefore imply an actual deduction from his wage, i.e., it expresses something 
+entirely different from the normal surplus-value of the capitalist), the rise in commodity-prices caused by 
+an increase of the average profit must correspond to the rise of the money-expression of the variable 
+capital. Such a general nominal increase in the rate of profit and the average profit above the limit 
+provided by the ratio of the actual surplus-value to the total invested capital is not, in effect, possible 
+without causing an increase in wages, and also an increase in the prices of commodities forming the 
+constant capital. The reverse is true in case of a reduction. Since the total value of the commodities 
+regulates the total surplus-value, and this in turn regulates the level of average profit and thereby the 
+general rate of profit — as a general law or a law governing fluctuations — it follows the law of value 
+regulates the prices of production. 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 10 
+
+What competition, first in a single sphere, achieves is a single market- value and market-price derived 
+from the various individual values of commodities. And it is competition of capitals in different spheres, 
+which first brings out the price of production equalizing the rates of profit in the different spheres. The 
+latter process requires a higher development of capitalist production that the previous one. 
+
+For commodities of the same sphere of production, the same kind, and approximately the same quality, 
+to be sold at their values, the following two requirements are necessary: 
+
+First, the different individual values must be equalized at one social value, the above-named market 
+value, and this implies competition among producers of the same kind of commodities and, likewise, the 
+existence of a common market in which they offer their articles for sale. For the market-price of identical 
+commodities, each, however, produced under different individual circumstances, to correspond to the 
+market- value and not to deviate from it either by rising above or falling below it, it is necessary that the 
+pressure exerted by different sellers upon one another be sufficient to bring enough commodities to 
+market to fill the social requirements, i.e., a quantity for which society is capable of paying the 
+market- value. Should the mass of products exceed this demand, the commodities would have to be sold 
+below their market- value; and conversely, above their market- value if the mass of products were not 
+large enough to meet the demand, or, what amounts to the same, if the pressure of competition among 
+sellers were not strong enough to bring this mass of products to market. Should the market-value change, 
+this would also entail a change in the conditions on which the total mass of commodities could be sold. 
+Should the market-value fall, this would entail a rise in the average social demand (this always taken to 
+mean the effective demand), which could, within certain limits, absorb larger masses of commodities. 
+Should the market-value rise, this would entail a drop in the social demand, and a smaller mass of 
+commodities would be absorbed. Hence, if supply and demand regulate the market-price, or rather the 
+deviations of the market-price from the market-value, then, in turn, the market- value regulates the ratio 
+of supply to demand, or the centre round which fluctuations of supply and demand cause market-prices 
+to oscillate. 
+
+Looking closer, we find that the conditions applicable to the value of an individual commodity are here 
+reproduced as conditions governing the value of the aggregate of a certain kind of commodity. Capitalist 
+production is mass production from the very outset. But even in other, less developed, modes of 
+production that which is produced in relatively small quantities as a common product by small-scale, 
+even if numerous, producers, is concentrated in large quantities — at least in the case of the vital 
+commodities — in the hands of relatively few merchants. The latter accumulate them and sell them as the 
+common product of an entire branch of production, or of a more or less considerable contingent of it. 
+
+It should be here noted in passing that the "social demand", i.e., the factor which regulates the principle 
+of demand, is essentially subject to the mutual relationship of the different classes and their respective 
+economic position, notably therefore to, firstly, the ratio of total surplus-value to wages, and, secondly, to 
+the relation of the various parts into which surplus-value is split up (profit, interest, ground-rent, taxes, 
+etc.). And this thus again shows how absolutely nothing can be explained by the relation of supply .to 
+demand before ascertaining the basis on which this relation rests. 
+
+Although both commodity and money represent a unity of exchange-value and use-value, we have 
+already seen that in buying and selling both of these functions are polarised at the two extremes, the 
+commodity (seller) representing the use-value, and the money (buyer) representing the exchange- value. 
+One of the first premises of selling was that a commodity should have use- value and should therefore 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 10 
+
+satisfy a social need. The other premise was that the quantity of labour contained in the commodity 
+should represent socially necessary labour, i.e., its individual value (and, what amounts to the same under 
+the present assumption, its selling price) should coincide with its social value. 
+
+Let us apply this to the mass of commodities available in the market, which represents the product of a 
+whole sphere. 
+
+The matter will be most readily pictured by regarding this whole mass of commodities, produced by one 
+branch of industry, as one commodity, and the sum of the prices of the many identical commodities as 
+one price. Then, whatever has been said of a single commodity applies literally to the mass of 
+commodities of a entire branch of production available in the market. The requirement that the individual 
+value of a commodity should correspond to its social value is now realised, or further determined, in that 
+the mass contains social labour necessary for its production, and that the value of this mass is equal to its 
+market- value. 
+
+Now suppose that the bulk of these commodities is produced under approximately similar normal social 
+conditions, so that this value is at the same time the individual value of the individual commodities which 
+make up this mass. If a relatively small portion of these commodities may now have been produced 
+below, and another above, these conditions, so that the individual value of one portion is greater, and that 
+of the other smaller, than the average value of the bulk of the commodities, but in such proportions that 
+these extremes balance one another, so that the average value of the commodities at these extremes is 
+equal to the value of commodities in the centre, then the market- value is determined by the value of the 
+commodities produced under average conditions. The value of the entire mass of commodities is equal to 
+the actual sum of the values of all individual commodities taken together, whether produced under 
+average conditions, or under conditions above or below the average. In that case, the market-value, or 
+social value, of the mass of commodities — the necessary labour-time contained in them — is determined 
+by the value of the preponderant mean mass. 
+
+Suppose, on the contrary, that the total mass of the commodities in question brought to market remains 
+the same, while the value of the commodities produced under less favourable conditions fails to balance 
+out the value of commodities produced under more favourable conditions, so that the part of the mass 
+produced under less favourable conditions forms a relatively weighty quantity as compared with the 
+average mass and with the other extreme. In that case, the mass produced under less favourable 
+conditions regulates the market, or social, value. 
+
+Suppose, finally, that the mass of commodities produced under better than average conditions 
+considerably exceeds that produced under worse conditions, and is large even compared with that 
+produced under average conditions. In that case, the part produced under the most favourable conditions 
+determines the market- value. We ignore here the overstocked market, in which the part produced under 
+most favourable conditions always regulates the market-price. We are not dealing here with the 
+market-price, in so far as it differs from the market-value, but with the various determinations of the 
+market- value itself. £1} 
+
+In fact, strictly speaking (which, of course, occurs in reality only in approximation and with a thousand 
+modifications) the market- value of the entire mass, regulated as it is by the average values, is in case I 
+equal to the sum of their individual values; although in the case of the commodities produced at the 
+extremes, this value is represented as an average value which is forced upon them. Those who produce at 
+the worst extreme must then sell their commodities below the individual value; those producing at the 
+
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+
+best extreme sell them above it. 
+
+In case II the individual lots of commodity-values produced at the two extremes do not balance one 
+another. Rather, the lot produced under the worse conditions decides the issue. Strictly speaking, the 
+average price, or the market-value, of each individual commodity, or each aliquot part of the total mass, 
+would now be determined by the total value of the mass as obtained by adding up the values of the 
+commodities produced under different conditions, and in accordance with the aliquot part of this total 
+value falling to the share of each individual commodity. The market- value thus obtained would exceed 
+the individual value not only of the commodities belonging to the favourable extreme, but also of those 
+belonging to the average lot. Yet it would still be below the individual value of those commodities 
+produced at the unfavourable extreme. How close the market- value approaches, or finally coincides with, 
+the latter would depend entirely on the volume occupied by commodities produced at the unfavourable 
+extreme of the commodity sphere in question. If demand is only slightly greater than supply, the 
+individual value of the unfavourably produced commodities regulates the market-price. 
+
+Finally, if the lot of commodities produced at the favourable extreme occupies greater place than the 
+other extreme, and also than the average lot, as it does in case III, then the market- value falls below the 
+average value. The average value, computed by adding the sums of values at the two extremes and at the 
+middle, stands here below the value of the middle, which it approaches, or vice versa, depending on the 
+relative place occupied by the favourable extreme. Should demand be weaker than supply, the favourably 
+situated part, whatever its size, makes room for itself forcibly by paring its price down to its individual 
+value. The market-value cannot ever coincide with this individual value of the commodities produced 
+under the most favourable conditions, except when supply far exceeds demand. 
+
+This mode of determining market- values, which we have here outlined abstractly, is promoted in the real 
+market by competition among the buyers, provided the demand is large enough to absorb the mass of 
+commodities at values so fixed. And this brings us to the other point. 
+
+Second, to say that a commodity has a use-value is merely to say that it satisfies some social want. So 
+long as we dealt with individual commodities only, we could assume that there was a need for a 
+particular commodity — its quantity already implied by its price without inquiring further into the 
+quantity required to satisfy this want. This quantity is, however, of essential importance, as soon as the 
+product of an entire branch of production is placed on one side, and the social need for it on the other. It 
+then becomes necessary to consider the extent, i.e., the amount of this social want. 
+
+In the foregoing determinations of market- value it was assumed that the mass of the produced 
+commodities is given, i.e., remains the same, and that there is a change only in the proportions of its 
+constituent elements, which are produced under different conditions, and that, hence, the market-value of 
+the same mass of commodities is differently regulated. Suppose, this mass corresponds in size to the 
+usual supply, leaving aside the possibility that a portion of the produced commodities may be temporarily 
+withdrawn from the market. Should demand for this mass now also remain the same, this commodity will 
+be sold at its market-value, no matter which of the three aforementioned cases regulates this 
+market- value. This mass of commodities does not merely satisfy a need, but satisfies it to its full social 
+extent. Should their quantity be smaller or greater, however, than the demand for them, there will be 
+deviations of the market-price from the market- value. And the first deviation is that if the supply is too 
+small, the market- value is always regulated by the commodities produced under the least favourable 
+circumstances and, if the supply is too large, always by the commodities produced under the most 
+
+
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+
+favourable conditions; that therefore it is one of the extremes which determines the market- value, in spite 
+of the fact that in accordance with the mere proportion of the commodity masses produced under 
+different conditions, a different result should obtain. If the difference between demand and the available 
+quantity of the product is more considerable, the market-price will likewise be considerably above or 
+below the market- value. Now, the difference between the quantity of the produced commodities and that 
+quantity of them at which they are sold at market- value may be due to two reasons. Either the quantity 
+itself changes, becoming too small or too large, so that reproduction would have taken place on a 
+different scale than that which regulated the given market-value. In that case, the supply changed, 
+although demand remained the same, and there was, therefore, relative over-production or 
+under-production. Or else reproduction, and thus supply, remained the same, while demand shrank or 
+increased, which may be due to several reasons. Although the absolute magnitude of the supply was the 
+same, its relative magnitude, its magnitude relative to, or measured by, the demand, had changed. The 
+effect is the same as in the first case, but in the reverse direction, finally, if changes take place on both 
+sides, but either in reverse directions, or, if in the same direction, then not to the same extent, if therefore 
+there are changes on both sides, but these alter the former proportion between the two sides, then the 
+final result must always lead to one of the two above-mentioned cases. 
+
+The real difficulty in formulating the general definition of supply and demand is that it seems to take on 
+the appearance of a tautology. First consider the supply — the product available in the market, or that 
+which can be delivered to it. to avoid dwelling upon useless detail, we shall here consider only the mass 
+annually reproduced in every given branch of production and ignore the greater or lesser faculty 
+possessed by the different commodities to be withdrawn from the market and stored away for 
+consumption, say, until next year. This annual reproduction is expressed by a certain quantity — in 
+weight or numbers — depending on whether this mass of commodities is measured in discrete elements or 
+continuously. They are not only use-values satisfying human wants, but these use-values are available in 
+the market in definite quantities. Secondly, however, this quantity of commodities has a specific 
+market- value, which may be expressed by a multiple of the market-value of the commodity, or of its 
+measure, which serves as unit. Thus, there is no necessary connection between the quantitative volume of 
+the commodities in the market and their market- value, since, for instance, many commodities have a 
+specifically high value, and others a specifically low value, so that a given sum of values may be 
+represented by a very large quantity of one commodity, and a very small quantity of another. There is 
+only the following connection between the quantity of the articles available in the market and the 
+market- value of these articles: On a given basis of labour productivity the production of a certain 
+quantity of articles in every particular sphere of production requires a definite quantity of social 
+labour- time; although this proportion varies in different spheres of production and has no inner relation 
+to the usefulness of these articles or the special nature of their use-values. Assuming all other 
+circumstances to be equal, and a certain quantity a of some commodity to cost b labour-time, a quantity 
+na of the same commodity will cost nb labour-time. Further, if society wants to satisfy some want and 
+have an article produced for this purpose, it must pay for it. Indeed, since commodity-production 
+necessitates a division of labour, society pays for this article by devoting a portion of the available 
+labour-time to its production. Therefore, society buys it with a definite quantity of its disposable 
+labour-time. That part of society which through the division of labour happens to employ its labour in 
+producing this particular article, must receive an equivalent in social labour incorporated in articles 
+which satisfy its own wants. However, there exists an accidental rather than a necessary connection 
+between the total amount of social labour applied to a social article, i.e., between the aliquot part of 
+society's total labour-power allocated to producing this article, or between the volume which the 
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+
+production of this article occupies in total production, on the one hand, and the volume whereby society 
+seeks to satisfy the want gratified by the article in question, on the other. Every individual article, or 
+every definite quantity of a commodity may, indeed, contain no more than the social labour required for 
+its production, and from this point of view the market-value of this entire commodity represents only 
+necessary labour, but if this commodity has been produced in excess of the existing social needs, then so 
+much of the social labour-time is squandered and the mass of the commodity comes to represent a much 
+smaller quantity of social labour in the market than is actually incorporated in it. (It is only where 
+production is under the actual, predetermining control of society that the latter establishes a relation 
+between the volume of social labour-time applied in producing definite articles, and the volume of the 
+social want to be satisfied by these articles.) For this reason, these commodities must be sold below their 
+market- value, and a portion of them may even be altogether unsaleable. The reverse applies if the 
+quantity of social labour employed in the production of a certain kind of commodity is too small to meet 
+the social demand for that commodity. But if the quantity of social labour expended in the production of 
+a certain article corresponds to the social demand for that article, so that the produced quantity 
+corresponds to the usual scale of reproduction and the demand remains unchanged, then the article is sold 
+at its market- value. The exchange, or sale, of commodities at their value is the rational state of affairs, 
+i.e., the natural law of their equilibrium. It is this law that explains the deviations, and not vice versa, the 
+deviations that explain the law. 
+
+Now let us look at the other side — the demand. 
+
+Commodities are bought either as means of production or means of subsistence to enter productive or 
+individual consumption. It does not alter matters that some commodities may serve both purposes. There 
+is, then, a demand for them on the part of producers (here capitalists, since we have assumed that means 
+of production have been transformed into capital) and of consumers. Both appear at first sight to 
+presuppose a given quantity of social want on the side of demand, corresponding on the other side to a 
+definite quantity of social output in the various lines of production. If the cotton industry is to accomplish 
+its annual reproduction on a given scale, it must have the usual supply of cotton, and, other circumstances 
+remaining the same, an additional amount of cotton corresponding to the annual extension of 
+reproduction caused by the accumulation of capital. This is equally true with regard to means of 
+subsistence. The working-class must find at least the same quantity of necessities on hand if it is to 
+continue living in its accustomed average way, although they may be more or less differently distributed 
+among the different kinds of commodities. Moreover, there must be an additional quantity to allow for 
+the annual increase of population. The same, with more or less modification, applies to other classes. 
+
+It would seem, then, that there is on the side of demand a certain magnitude of definite social wants 
+which require for their satisfaction a definite quantity of a commodity on the market. But quantitatively, 
+the definite social wants are very elastic and changing. Their fixedness is only apparent. If the means of 
+subsistence were cheaper, or money-wages higher, the labourers would buy more of them, and a greater 
+social need would arise for them, leaving aside the paupers, etc., whose demand is even below the 
+narrowest limits of their physical wants. On the other hand, if cotton were cheaper, for example, the 
+capitalists' demand for it would increase, more additional capital would be thrown into the cotton 
+industry, etc. We must never forget that the demand for productive consumption is, under our 
+assumption, a demand of the capitalist, whose essential purpose is the production of surplus-value, so 
+that he produces a particular commodity to this sole end. Still, this does not hinder the capitalist, so long 
+as he appears in the market as a buyer of, say, cotton, from representing the need for this cotton, just as it 
+is immaterial to the seller of cotton whether the buyer converts it into shirting or gun-cotton, or whether 
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+
+he intends to turn it into wads for his own, and the world's, ears. But this.does exert a considerable 
+influence on the kind of buyer the capitalist is. His demand for cotton is substantially modified by the 
+fact that it disguises his real need for making profit. The limits within which the need for commodities in 
+the market, the demand, differs quantitatively from the actual social need, naturally vary considerably 
+for different commodities; what I mean is the difference between the demanded quantity of commodities 
+and the quantity which would have been in demand at other money-prices or other money or living 
+conditions of the buyers. 
+
+Nothing is easier than to realise the inconsistencies of demand and supply, and the resulting deviation of 
+market-prices from market- values. The real difficulty consists in determining what is meant by the 
+equation of supply and demand. 
+
+Supply and demand coincide when their mutual proportions are such that the mass of commodities of a 
+definite line of production can be sold at their market- value, neither above nor below it. That is the first 
+thing we hear. 
+
+The second is this: If commodities are sold at their market- values, supply and demand coincide. 
+
+If supply equals demand, they cease to act, and for this very reason commodities are sold at their 
+market- values. Whenever two forces operate equally in opposite directions, they balance one another, 
+exert no outside influence, and any phenomena taking place in these circumstances must be explained by 
+causes other than the effect of these two forces. If supply and demand balance one another, they cease to 
+explain anything, do not affect market- values, and therefore leave us so much more in the dark about the 
+reasons why the market- value is expressed in just this sum of money and no other. It is evident that the 
+real inner laws of capitalist production cannot be explained by the interaction of supply and demand 
+(quite aside from a deeper analysis of these two social motive forces, which would be out of place here), 
+because these laws cannot be observed in their pure state, until supply and demand cease to act, i.e., are 
+equated. In reality, supply and demand never coincide, or, if they do, it is by mere accident, hence 
+scientifically = 0, and to be regarded as not having occurred. But political economy assumes that supply 
+and demand coincide with one another. Why? To be able to study phenomena in their fundamental 
+relations, in the form corresponding to their conception, that is, is to study them independent of the 
+appearances caused by the movement of supply and demand. The other reason is to find the actual 
+tendencies of their movements and to some extent to record them. Since the inconsistencies are of an 
+antagonistic nature, and since they continually succeed one another, they balance out one another through 
+their opposing movements, and their mutual contradiction. Since, therefore, supply and demand never 
+equal one another in any given case, their differences follow one another in such a way — and the result 
+of a deviation in one direction is that it calls forth a deviation in the opposite direction — that supply and 
+demand are always equated when the whole is viewed over a certain period, but only as an average of 
+past movements, and only as the continuous movement of their contradiction. In this way, the 
+market-prices which have deviated from the market- values adjust themselves, as viewed from the 
+standpoint of their average number, to equal the market- values, in that deviations from the latter cancel 
+each other as plus and minus. And this average is not merely of theoretical, but also of practical 
+importance to capital, whose investment is calculated on the fluctuations and compensations of a more or 
+less fixed period. 
+
+On the one hand, the relation of demand and supply, therefore, only explains the deviations of 
+market-prices from market- values. On the other, it explains the tendency to eliminate these deviations, 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 10 
+
+i.e., to eliminate the effect of the relation of demand and supply. (Such exceptions as commodities which 
+have a price without having a value are not considered here.) Supply and demand may eliminate the 
+effect caused by their difference in many different ways. For instance, if the demand, and consequently 
+the market-price, fall, capital may be withdrawn, thus causing supply to shrink. It may also be that the 
+market- value itself shrinks and balances with the market-price as a result of inventions which reduce the 
+necessary labour-time. Conversely, if the demand increases, and consequently the market-price rises 
+above the market-value, this may lead to too much capital flowing into this line of production and 
+production may swell to such an extent that the market-price will even fall below the market- value. Or, it 
+may lead to a price increase, which cuts the demand. In some lines of production it may also bring about 
+a rise in the market- value itself for a shorter or longer period, with a portion of the desired products 
+having to be produced under worse conditions during this period. 
+
+Supply and demand determine the market-price, and so does the market-price, and the market- value in 
+the further analysis, determine supply and demand. This is obvious in the case of demand, since it moves 
+in a direction opposite to prices, swelling when prices fall, and vice versa. But this is also true of supply. 
+Because the prices of means of production incorporated in the offered commodities determine the 
+demand for these means of production, and thus the supply of commodities whose supply embraces the 
+demand for these means of production. The prices of cotton are determinants in the supply of cotton 
+goods. 
+
+To this confusion — determining prices through demand and supply, and, at the same time, determining 
+supply and demand through prices — must be added that demand determines supply, just as supply 
+determines demand, and production determines the market, as well as the market determines production. 
+[21 
+
+Even the ordinary economist (see footnote) agrees that the proportion between supply and demand may 
+vary in consequence of a change in the market- value of commodities, without a change being brought 
+about in demand or supply by extraneous circumstances. Even he must admit that, whatever the 
+market- value, supply and demand must coincide in order for it to be established. In other words, the ratio 
+of supply to demand does not explain the market- value, but conversely, the latter rather explains the 
+fluctuations of supply and demand. The author of the Observations continues after the passage quoted in 
+the footnote: "This proportion" (between demand and supply), "however, if we still mean by 'demand' 
+and 'natural price', what we meant just now, when referring to Adam Smith, must always be a proportion 
+of equality; for it is only when the supply is equal to the effectual demand, that is, to that demand which 
+will neither more nor less than pay the natural price, that the natural price is in fact paid; consequently, 
+there may be two very different natural prices, at different times, for the same commodity, and yet the 
+proportion, which the supply bears to the demand, be in both cases the same, namely, the proportion of 
+equality. " It is admitted, then, that with two different natural prices of the same commodity, at different 
+times, demand and supply are always able to, and must, balance one another if the commodity is to be 
+sold at its natural price in both instances. Since there is no difference in the ratio of supply to demand in 
+either case, but a difference in the magnitude of the natural price itself, it follows that this price is 
+obviously determined independently of demand and supply, and thus that it can least of all be determined 
+by them. 
+
+For a commodity to be sold at its market- value, i.e., proportionally to the necessary social labour 
+contained in it, the total quantity of social labour used in producing the total mass of this commodity 
+must correspond to the quantity of the social want for it, i.e., the effective social want. Competition, the 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 10 
+
+fluctuations of market-prices which correspond to the fluctuations of demand and supply, tend 
+continually to reduce to this scale the total quantity of labour devoted to each kind of commodity. 
+
+The proportion of supply and demand recapitulates, first, the relation of use- value to exchange-value, of 
+commodity to money, and of buyer to seller; and, second, that of producer to consumer, although both of 
+them may be represented by third parties, the merchants. In considering buyer and seller, it suffices to 
+counterpose them individually in order to present their relationship. Three individuals are enough for the 
+complete metamorphosis of a commodity, and therefore for the process of sale and purchase taken as a 
+whole. A converts his commodity into the money of B, to whom he sells his commodity, and reconverts 
+his money again into commodities, when he uses it to make purchases from C; the whole process takes 
+place among these three. Further, in the study of money it had been assumed that the commodities are 
+sold at their values because there was absolutely no reason to consider prices divergent from values, it 
+being merely a matter of changes of form which commodities undergo in their transformation into money 
+and their reconversion from money into commodities. As soon as a commodity has been sold and a new 
+commodity bought with the receipts, we have before us the entire metamorphosis, and to this process as 
+such it is immaterial whether the price of the commodity lies above or below its value. The value of the 
+commodity remains important as a basis, because the concept of money cannot be developed on any 
+other foundation, and price, in its general meaning, is but value in the form of money. At any rate, it is 
+assumed in the study of money as a medium of circulation that there is not just one metamorphosis of a 
+certain commodity. It is rather the social interrelation of these metamorphoses which is studied. Only 
+thus do we arrive at the circulation of money and the development of its function as a medium of 
+circulation. But however important this connection may be for the conversion of money into a circulating 
+medium, and for its resulting change of form, it is of no moment to the transaction between individual 
+buyers and sellers. 
+
+In the case of supply and demand, however, the supply is equal to the sum of sellers, or producers, of a 
+certain kind of commodity, and the demand equals the sum of buyers or consumers (both productive and 
+individual) of the same kind of commodity. The sums react on one another as units, as aggregate forces. 
+The individual counts here only as part of a social force, as an atom of the mass, and it is in this form that 
+competition brings out the social character of production and consumption. 
+
+The side of competition which happens for the moment to be weaker is also the side in which the 
+individual acts independently of, and often directly against, the mass of his competitors, and precisely in 
+this manner is the dependence of one upon the other impressed upon them, while the stronger side acts 
+always more or less as a united whole against its antagonist. If the demand for this particular kind of 
+commodity is greater than the supply, one buyer outbids another — within certain limits — and so raises 
+the price of the commodity for all of them above the market- value, while on the other hand the sellers 
+unite in trying to sell at a high market-price. If, conversely, the supply exceeds the demand, one begins to 
+dispose of his goods at a cheaper rate and the others must follow, while the buyers unite in their efforts to 
+depress the market-price as much as possible below the market-value. The common interest is 
+appreciated by each only so long as he gains more by it than without it. And unity of action ceases the 
+moment one or the other side becomes the weaker, when each tries to extricate himself on his own as 
+advantageously as he possibly can. Again, if one produces more cheaply and can sell more goods, thus 
+possessing himself of a greater place in the market by selling below the current market-price, or 
+market- value, he will do so, and will thereby begin a movement which gradually compels the others to 
+introduce the cheaper mode of production, and one which reduces the socially necessary labour to a new, 
+and lower, level. If one side has the advantage, all belonging to it gain. It is as though they exerted their 
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+
+common monopoly. If one side is weaker, then one may try on his own hook to become the stronger (for 
+instance, one who works with lower costs of production), or at least to get off as lightly as possible, and 
+in such cases each for himself and the devil take the hindmost, although his actions affect not only 
+himself, but also all his boon companions. [3] 
+
+Demand and supply imply the conversion of value into market-value, and so far as they proceed on a 
+capitalist basis, so far as the commodities are products of capital, they are based on capitalist production 
+processes, i.e., on quite different relationships than the mere purchase and sale of goods. Here it is not a 
+question of the formal conversion of the value of commodities into prices, i.e., not of a mere change of 
+form. It is a question of definite deviations in quantity of the market-prices from the market- values, and, 
+further, from the prices of production. In simple purchase and sale it suffices to have the producers of 
+commodities as such counterposed to one another. In further analysis supply and demand presuppose the 
+existence of different classes and sections of classes which divide the total revenue of a society and 
+consume it among themselves as revenue, and, therefore, make up the demand created by revenue. While 
+on the other hand it requires an insight into the over-all structure of the capitalist production process for 
+an understanding of the supply and demand created among themselves by producers as such. 
+
+Under capitalist production it is not merely a matter of obtaining an equal mass of value in another form 
+— be it that of money or some other commodity — for a mass of values thrown into circulation in the 
+form of a commodity, but it is rather a matter of realising as much surplus-value, or profit, on capital 
+advanced for production, as any other capital of the same magnitude, or pro rata to its magnitude in 
+whichever line it is applied. It is, therefore, a matter, at least as a minimum, of selling the commodities at 
+prices which yield the average profit, i.e., at prices of production. In this form capital becomes conscious 
+of itself as a social power in which every capitalist participates proportionally to his share in the total 
+social capital. 
+
+First, capitalist production is in itself indifferent to the particular use-value, and distinctive features of 
+any commodity it produces. In every sphere of production it is only concerned with producing 
+surplus-value, and appropriating a certain quantity of unpaid labour incorporated in the product of labour. 
+And it is likewise in the nature of the wage-labour subordinated by capital that it is indifferent to the 
+specific character of its labour and must submit to being transformed in accordance with the 
+requirements of capital and to being transferred from one sphere of production to another. 
+
+Second, one sphere of production is, in fact, just as good or just as bad as another. Every one of them 
+yields the same profit, and every one of them would be useless if the commodities it produced did not 
+satisfy some social need. 
+
+Now, if the commodities are sold at their values, then, as we have shown, very different rates of profit 
+arise in the various spheres of production, depending on the different organic composition of the masses 
+of capital invested in them. But capital withdraws from a sphere with a low rate of profit and invades 
+others, which yield a higher profit. Through this incessant outflow and influx, or, briefly, through its 
+distribution among the various spheres, which depends on how the rate of profit falls here and rises there, 
+it creates such a ratio of supply to demand that the average profit in the various spheres of production 
+becomes the same, end values are, therefore, converted into prices of production. Capital succeeds in this 
+equalisation, to a greater or lesser degree, depending on the extent of capitalist development in the given 
+nation; i.e., on the extent the conditions in the country in question are adapted for the capitalist mode of 
+production. With the progress of capitalist production, it also develops its own conditions and 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 10 
+
+subordinates to its specific character and its immanent laws all the social prerequisites on which the 
+production process is based. 
+
+The incessant equilibration of constant divergences is accomplished so much more quickly, 1) the more 
+mobile the capital, i.e., the more easily it can be shifted from one sphere and from one place to another; 
+2) the more quickly labour-power can be transferred from one sphere to another and from one production 
+locality to another. The first condition implies complete freedom of trade within the society and the 
+removal of all monopolies with the exception of the natural ones, those, that is, which naturally arise out 
+of the capitalist mode of production. It implies, furthermore, the development of the credit system, which 
+concentrates the inorganic mass of the disposable social capital vis-a-vis the individual capitalist. Finally, 
+it implies the subordination of the various spheres of production to the control of capitalists. This last 
+implication is included in our premises, since we assumed that it was a matter of converting values into 
+prices of production in all capitalistically exploited spheres of production. But this equilibration itself 
+runs into greater obstacles, whenever numerous and large spheres of production not operated on a 
+capitalist basis (such as soil cultivation by small farmers), filter in between the capitalist enterprises and 
+become linked with them. A great density of population is another requirement. — The second condition 
+implies the abolition of all laws preventing the labourers from transferring from one sphere of production 
+to another and from one local centre of production to another; indifference of the labourer to the nature of 
+his labour; the greatest possible reduction of labour in all spheres of production to simple labour; the 
+elimination of all vocational prejudices among labourers; and last but not least, a subjugation of the 
+labourer to the capitalist mode of production. Further reference to this belongs to a special analysis of 
+competition. 
+
+It follows from the foregoing that in each particular sphere of production the individual capitalist, as well 
+as the capitalists as a whole, take direct part in the exploitation of the total working-class by the totality 
+of capital and in the degree of that exploitation, not only out of general class sympathy, but also for direct 
+economic reasons. For, assuming all other conditions — among them the value of the total advanced 
+constant capital — to be given, the average rate of profit depends on the intensity of exploitation of the 
+sum total of labour by the sum total of capital. 
+
+The average profit coincides with the average surplus- value produced for each 100 of capital, and so far 
+as the surplus-value is concerned the foregoing statements apply as a matter of course. In the case of the 
+average profit the value of the advanced capital becomes an additional element determining the rate of 
+profit. In fact, the direct interest taken by the capitalist, or the capital, of any individual sphere of 
+production in the exploitation of the labourers who are directly employed is confined to making an extra 
+gain, a profit exceeding the average, either through exceptional overwork, or reduction of the wage 
+below the average, or through the exceptional productivity of the labour employed. Aside from this, a 
+capitalist who would not in his line of production employ any variable capital, and therefore any labourer 
+(in reality an exaggerated assumption), would nonetheless be as much interested in the exploitation of the 
+working-class by capital, and would derive his profit quite as much from unpaid surplus-labour, as, say, a 
+capitalist who would employ only variable capital (another exaggeration), and who would thus invest his 
+entire capital in wages. But the degree of exploitation of labour depends on the average intensity of 
+labour if the working-day is given, and on the length of the working-day if the intensity of exploitation is 
+given. The degree of exploitation of labour determines the rate of surplus-value, and therefore the mass 
+of surplus-value for a given total mass of variable capital, and consequently the magnitude of the profit. 
+The individual capitalist, as distinct from his sphere as a whole, has the same special interest in 
+exploiting the labourers he personally employs as the capital of a particular sphere, as distinct from the 
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+
+total social capital, has in exploiting the labourers directly employed in that sphere. 
+
+On the other hand, every particular sphere of capital, and every individual capitalist, have the same 
+interest in the productivity of the social labour employed by the sum total of capital. For two things 
+depend on this productivity: First, the mass of use-values in which the average profit is expressed; and 
+this is doubly important, since this average profit serves as a fund for the accumulation of new capital 
+and as a fund for revenue to be spent for consumption. Second, the value of the total capital invested 
+(constant and variable), which, the amount of surplus-value, or profit, for the whole capitalist class being 
+given, determines the rate of profit, or the profit on a certain quantity of capital. The special productivity 
+of labour in any particular sphere, or in any individual enterprise of this sphere, is of interest only to 
+those capitalists who are directly engaged in it, since it enables that particular sphere, vis-a-vis the total 
+capital, or that individual capitalist, vis-a-vis his sphere, to make an extra profit. 
+
+Here, then, we have a mathematically precise proof why capitalists form a veritable freemason society 
+vis-a-vis the whole working-class, while there is little love lost between them in competition among 
+themselves. 
+
+The price of production includes the average profit. We call it price of production. It is really what Adam 
+Smith calls natural price, Ricardo calls price of production, or cost of production, and the physiocrats 
+call prix necessaire, because in the long run it is a prerequisite of supply, of the reproduction of 
+commodities in every individual sphere. But none of them has revealed the difference between price of 
+production and value. We can well understand why the same economists who oppose determining the 
+value of commodities by labour-time, i.e., by the quantity of labour contained in them, why they always 
+speak of prices of production as centres around which market-prices fluctuate. They can afford to do it 
+because the price of production is an utterly external and prima facie meaningless form of the value of 
+commodities, a form as it appears in competition, therefore in the mind of the vulgar capitalist, and 
+consequently in that of the vulgar economist. 
+
+
+
+Our analysis has revealed how the market- value (and everything said concerning it applies with 
+appropriate modifications to the price of production) embraces a surplus-profit for those who produce in 
+any particular sphere of production under the most favourable conditions. With the exception of crises, 
+and of overproduction in general, this applies to all market-prices, no matter how much they may deviate 
+from market- values or market-prices of production. For the market-price signifies that the same price is 
+paid for commodities of the same kind, although they may have been produced under very different 
+individual conditions and hence may have different cost-prices. (We do not speak at this point of any 
+surplus-profits due to monopolies in the usual sense of the term, whether natural or artificial.) 
+
+A surplus-profit may also arise if certain spheres of production are in a position to evade the conversion 
+of the values of their commodities into prices of production, and thus the reduction of their profits to the 
+average profit. We shall devote more attention to the further modifications of these two forms of 
+surplus-profit in the part dealing with ground-rent. 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 10 
+
+FOOTNOTES 
+
+1. The controversy between Storch and Ricardo with regard to ground- rent (a controversy pertaining 
+only to the subject; in fact, the two opponents pay no attention to one another), whether the market- value 
+(or rather what they call market-price and price of production respectively) was regulated by the 
+commodities produced under unfavourable conditions (Ricardo) [On the Principles of Political Economy, 
+and Taxation, Third edition, London, 1821, pp. 661. — Ed. ], or by those produced under favourable 
+conditions (Storch) [Cours d'economie politique, ou exposition des principes, qudeterminent la 
+prosperite des nations, tome II, St.-Petersbourg, 1815, pp. 78-79. — Ed. ], resolves itself in the final 
+analysis in that both are right and both wrong, and that both of them have failed to consider the average 
+case. Compare Corbet [An Inquiry into the Causes and Modes of the Wealth of Individuals, London, 
+1841, pp. 42-44. — Ed. ] on the cases in which the price is regulated by commodities produced under the 
+most favourable conditions. — "It is not meant to be asserted by him (Ricardo) that two particular lots of 
+two different articles, as a hat and a pair of shoes, exchange with one another when those two particular 
+lots were produced by equal quantities of labour. By 'commodity' we must here understand the 
+'description of commodity', not a particular individual hat, pair of shoes etc. The whole labour which 
+produces all the hats in England is to be considered, to this purpose, as divided among all the hats. This 
+seems to me not to have been expressed at first, and in the general statement of this doctrine." 
+(Observations on Certain Verbal Disputes in Political Economy, etc., London, 1821, pp. 53-54.) 
+
+2. The following subtility is sheer nonsense: "Where the quantity of wages, capital, and land, required to 
+produce an article, are become different from what they were, that which Adam Smith calls the natural 
+price of it is also different, and that price, which was previously its natural price becomes, with reference 
+to this alteration, its market-price; because, though neither the supply, nor the quantity wanted, may have 
+been changed" — both of them change here, just because the market- value, or, in the case of Adam 
+Smith, the price of production, changes in consequence of a change of value — "that supply is not now 
+exactly enough for those persons who are able and willing to pay what is now the cost of production, but 
+is either greater or less than that; so that the proportion between the supply and what is with reference to 
+the new cost of production the effectual demand, is different from what it was. An alteration in the rate of 
+supply will then take place if there is no obstacle in the way of it, and at last bring the commodity to its 
+new natural price. It may then seem good to some persons to say that as the commodity gets to its natural 
+price by an alteration in its supply, the natural price is as much owing to one proportion between the 
+demand and supply, as the market-price is to another; and consequently, that the natural price, just as 
+much as the market-price, depends on the proportion that demand and supply bear to each other. " ("The 
+great principle of demand and supply is called into action to determine what A. Smith calls natural prices 
+as well as market-prices." — Malthus.) [Principles of Political Economy, London, 1820, p. 75. — Ed.] 
+(Observations on Certain Verbal Disputes, etc., London, 1821, pp. 60-61.) The good man does not grasp 
+the fact that it is precisely the change in the cost of production, and thus in the value which caused a 
+change in the demand, in the present case, and thus in the proportion between demand and supply, and 
+that this change in the demand may bring about a change in the supply. This would prove just the reverse 
+of what our good thinker wants to prove. It would prove that the change in the cost of production is by no 
+means due to the proportion of demand and supply, but rather regulates this proportion. 
+
+3. "If each man of a class could never have more than a given share, or aliquot part, of the gains and 
+possessions of the whole, he would readily combine to raise the gain"; (he does it as soon as the 
+proportion of demand to supply permits it ) "this is monopoly. But where each man thinks that he may 
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch10.htm (17 of 18) [23/08/2000 16:01 :26] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 10 
+
+anyway increase the absolute amount of his own share, though by a process which lessens the whole 
+amount, he will often do it; this is competition.' (An Inquiry into Those Principles Respecting the Nature 
+of Demand, etc,, London, 1821, p. 105.) 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter Eleven 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch10.htm (18 of 18) [23/08/2000 16:01:26] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 11 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Part II 
+
+CONVERSION OF PROFIT INTO AVERAGE PROFIT 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI 
+
+EFFECTS OF GENERAL WAGE FLUCTUATIONS 
+ON PRICES OF PRODUCTION 
+
+
+
+Let the average composition of social capital be 80c + 20v, and the profit 20%. The rate of surplus-value 
+is then 100%. A general increase of wages, all else remaining the same, is tantamount to a reduction in 
+the rate of surplus-value. In the case of average capital, profit and surplus-value are identical. Let wages 
+rise 25%. Then the same quantity of labour, formerly set in motion with 20, will cost 25. We shall then 
+have a turnover value of 80c + 25 v + 15p, instead of 80c + 20v + 20p. As before, the labour set in motion 
+by the variable capital produces a value of 40. If v rises from 20 to 25, the surplus s, or p, will amount to 
+only 15. The profit of 15 on a capital of 105 is 14 2/7%, and this would be the new average rate of profit. 
+Since the price of production of commodities produced by the average capital coincides with their value, 
+the price of production of these commodities would have remained unchanged. A wage increase would 
+therefore have caused a drop in profit, but no change in the value and price of the commodities. 
+Formerly, as long as the average profit was 20%, the price of production of commodities produced in one 
+period of turnover was equal to their cost-price plus a profit of 20% on this cost-price, therefore = k + kp' 
+= k + 20k/ 100. In this formula k is a variable magnitude, changing in accordance with the value of the 
+means of production that go into the commodities, and with the amount of depreciation given up by the 
+fixed capital to the product. The price of production would then amount to k + 14 2/7k/100. Let us now 
+select a capital, whose composition is lower than the original composition of the average social capital of 
+80c + 20v (which has now changed into 76 4/2 lc + 23 17/21v); say, 50c + 50v. In this case, the price of 
+production of the annual product before the wage increase would have been 50c + 50v + 20p = 120, 
+assuming for the sake of simplicity that the entire fixed capital passes through depreciation into the 
+product and that the period of turnover is the same as in the first case. For the same quantity of labour set 
+in motion a wage increase of 25% means an increase of the variable capital from 50 to 62 1/2. If the 
+annual product were sold at the former price of production of 120, this would give us 50c + 62 l/2v + 7 
+l/2p, or a rate of profit of 6 2/3%. But the new average rate of profit is 14 2/7%, and since we assume all 
+other circumstances to remain the same, the capital of 50c + 62 l/2v must also make this profit. Now a 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 11 
+
+capital of 1 12 1/2 makes a profit of 16 1/14 at a rate of profit of 14 2/7%. Therefore, the price of 
+production of the commodities produced by this capital is now 50c + 62 l/2v + 16 l/4p = 128 8/14. 
+Owing to a wage rise of 255, the price of production of the same quantity of the same commodities, 
+therefore, has here risen from 120 to 128 8/14, or more than 7%. 
+
+Conversely, suppose we take a sphere of production of a higher composition than the average capital; 
+say, 92c + 8v. The original average profit in this case would still be 20, and if we again assume that the 
+entire fixed capital passes into the annual product and that the period of turnover is the same as in cases I 
+and II, the price of production of the commodity is here also 120. 
+
+Owing to the rise in wages of 25% the variable capital for the same quantity of labour rises from 8 to 10, 
+the cost-price of the commodities from 100 to 102, while the average rate of profit falls from 20% to 14 
+2/7%. but 100 : 14 2/7= 102 : 14 4/7. The profit now falling to the share of 102 is therefore 14 4/7. For 
+this reason, the total product sells at k + kp' = 102 + 14 4/7= 116 4/7. The price of production has 
+therefore fallen from 120 to 1 16 4/7, or 3 3/7. 
+
+Consequently, if wages are raised 25%: 
+
+1) the price of production of the commodities of a capital of average social composition does not change; 
+
+2) the price of production of the commodities of a capital of lower composition rises, but not in 
+proportion to the fall in profit; 
+
+3) the price of production of the commodities of a capital of higher composition falls, but also not in the 
+same proportion as profit. 
+
+Since the price of production of the commodities of the average capital remained the same, equal to the 
+value of the product, the sum of the prices of production of the products of all capitals remained the same 
+as well, and equal to the sum total of the values produced by the aggregate capital. The increase on one 
+side and the decrease on the other balance for the aggregate capital on the level of the average social 
+capital. 
+
+If the price of production rises in case II and falls in case III, these opposite effects alone, which are 
+brought about by a fall in the rate of surplus-value or by a general wage increase, show that this cannot 
+be a matter of compensation in the price for the rise in wages, since the fall in the price of production in 
+case III cannot compensate the capitalist for the fall in profit, and since the rise of the price in case II 
+does not prevent a fall in profit. Rather, in either case, whether the price rises or falls, the profit remains 
+the same as that of the average capital, in which case the price remains unchanged. It is the same average 
+profit which has fallen by 5 5/7, or somewhat over 25%, in the case of II as well as III. It follows from 
+this that if the price did not rise in II and fall in III, II would have to sell below and III above the new 
+reduced average profit. It is self-evident that, depending on whether 50, 25, or 10 per 100 units of capital 
+are laid out for wages, the effect of a wage increase on a capitalist who has invested 1/10 of his capital in 
+wages must be quite different from that on one who has invested 1/4 or 1/2. An increase in the price of 
+production on the one side, a fall on the other, depending on a capital being below or above the average 
+social composition, occurs solely by virtue of the process of levelling the profit to the new reduced 
+average profit. 
+
+How would a general reduction in wages, and a corresponding general rise of the rate of profit, and thus 
+of the average profit, now affect the prices of production of commodities produced by capitals deviating 
+in opposite directions from the average social composition? We have but to reverse the foregoing 
+exposition to obtain the result (which Ricardo fails to analyse). 
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 11 
+
+I. Average capital=80c+20v=lOO; rate of surprus-value=100%; price of production=value of 
+commodities=80c+20v+20p=120; rate of profit=20%. Suppose wages fall by one-fourth. Then the same 
+constant capital is set in motion by 15v, instead of 20v. Then the value of 
+
+commodities=80c+15v+25p=120. The quantity of labour performed by v remains unchanged, except that 
+the value newly created by it is distributed differently between the capitalist and the labourer. The 
+surplus-value rises from 20 to 25 and the rate of surplus-value from 20/20 to 25/15, or from 100% to 166 
+2/3%. The profit on 95 now = 25, so that the rate of profit per 100 = 26 6/19. The new composition of the 
+capital in per cent is now 84 4/ 19c + 15 15/19v = 100. 
+
+II. Lower composition. Originally 50c+50v, as above. Due to the fall of wages by one-fourth v is reduced 
+to 37 1/2, and consequently the advanced total capital to 50c+37 l/2v = 87 1/2. If we apply the new rate 
+of profit of 26 6/19% to this, we get 100: 26 6/19 = 87 1/2 : 23 1/38. The same mass of commodities 
+which formerly cost 120, now costs 87 1/2 + 23 1/38 = 1 10 10/19, this being a price reduction of almost 
+10%. 
+
+III. Higher composition. Originally 92c+8v=100. The reduction of wages by one-fourth reduces 8v to 6v, 
+and the total capital to 98. Consequently, 100 : 26 6/19 = 98 : 25 16/19. The price of production of the 
+commodity, formerly 100+20=120, is now, after the fall in wages, 98 + 25 15/19 =123 15/19, this being a 
+rise of almost 4. 
+
+It is evident, therefore, that we have but to follow the same development in the opposite direction with 
+the appropriate modifications; that a general reduction of wages is attended by a general rise of 
+surplus-value, of the rate of surplus-value and, other circumstances remaining the same, of the rate of 
+profit, even if expressed in a different proportion; a fall in the prices of production for commodities 
+produced by capitals of lower composition, and a rise in the prices of production for commodities 
+produced by capitals of higher composition. The result is just the reverse of that observed for a general 
+rise of wages. JT[ In both cases — rise or fall of wages — it is assumed that the working-day remains the 
+same, and also the prices of the means of subsistence. In these circumstances a fall in wages is possible 
+only if they stood higher than the normal price of labour, or if they are depressed below this price. The 
+way in which the matter is modified if the rise or fall of wages is due to a change in value, and 
+consequently the price of production of commodities usually consumed by the labourer, will be analysed 
+at some length in the part dealing with ground-rent. At this point, however, the following remarks are to 
+be made once and for all: 
+
+Should the rise or fall in wages be due to a change in the value of the necessities of life, a modification of 
+the foregoing findings can take place only to the extent that commodities, whose change of price raises or 
+lowers the variable capital, also go into the constant capital as constituent elements and therefore affect 
+more than just the wages alone. But if they affect only wages, the above analysis contains all that needs 
+to be said. 
+
+In this entire chapter, the establishment of the general rate of profit and the average profit, and 
+consequently, the transmutation of values into prices of production, are assumed as given. The question 
+merely was, how a general rise or fall in wages affected the assumed prices of production of 
+commodities. This is but a very secondary question compared with the other important points analysed in 
+this part. But it is the only relevant question treated by Ricardo, and, as we shall see, he treated it 
+onesidedly and unsatisfactorily. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 11 
+
+FOOTNOTES 
+
+L It is very peculiar that Ricardo [On the Principles of Political Economy, and Taxation,Third edition, 
+London, 1821, pp. 36-41.-- Ed.] (who naturally proceeds differently from us, since he did not understand 
+the levelling of values to prices of production) did not once consider this eventuality, but only the first 
+case, that of a wage rise and its influence on the prices of production of commodities. And the servum 
+pecus imitatorum [Horace, Epistles, Book I, Epistle 19.— Ed.] did not even attempt to make this 
+extremely self-evident, actually tautological, practical application. 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 12 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch11.htm (4 of 4) [23/08/2000 16:01:29] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 12 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Part II 
+
+CONVERSION OF PROFIT INTO AVERAGE PROFIT 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII 
+SUPPLEMENTARY REMARKS 
+
+
+
+I. CAUSES IMPLYING A CHANGE IN THE PRICE OF PRODUCTION 
+
+There are just two causes that can change the price of production of a commodity: 
+
+First. A change in the general rate of profit. This can solely be due to a change in the average rate of 
+surplus-value, or, if the average rate of surplus-value remains the same, to a change in the ratio of the 
+sum of the appropriated surplus-values to the sum of the advanced total social capital. 
+
+If the change in the rate of surplus-value is not due to a depression of wages below normal, or their rise 
+above normal — and movements of that kind are to be regarded merely as oscillations — it can only occur 
+either through a rise, or fall, in the value of labour-power, the one being just as impossible as the other 
+unless there is a change in the productivity of the labour producing means of subsistence, i.e., in the 
+value of commodities consumed by the labourer. 
+
+Or, through a change in the proportion of the sum of appropriated surplus-values to the advanced total 
+capital of society. Since the change in this case is not caused by the rate of surplus-value, it must be 
+caused by the total capital, or rather its constant part. The mass of this part, technically considered, 
+increases or decreases in proportion to the quantity of labour-power bought by the variable capital, and 
+the mass of its value thus increases or decreases with the increase or decrease of its own mass. It also 
+increases or decreases, therefore, proportionately to the mass of the value of the variable capital. If the 
+same labour sets more constant capital in motion, it has become more productive. If the reverse, then less 
+productive. Thus, there has been a change in the productivity of labour, and there must have occurred a 
+change in the value of certain commodities. 
+
+The following law, then, applies to both cases: If the price of production of a commodity changes in 
+consequence of a change in the general rate of profit, its own value may have remained unchanged. 
+However, a change must have occurred in the value of other commodities. 
+
+Second. The general rate of profit remains unchanged. In this case the price of production of a 
+commodity can change only if its own value has changed. This may be due to more, or less, labour being 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 12 
+
+required to reproduce the commodity in question, either because of a change in the productivity of labour 
+which produces this commodity in its final form, or of the labour which produces those commodities that 
+go into its production. The price of production of cotton yarn may fall, either because raw cotton is 
+produced cheaper than before, or because the labour of spinning has become more productive due to 
+improved machinery. 
+
+The price of production, as we have seen, = k+p, equal to cost-price plus profit. This, however, =k+kp', 
+in which k, the cost-price, is a variable magnitude, which changes for different spheres of production and 
+is everywhere equal to the value of the constant and variable capital consumed in the production of the 
+commodity, and p' is the average rate of profit in percentage form. If k=200, and p -is the average rate of 
+profit in percentage form. If k=200, and p -20%, the price of production k+kp'=200+200 20/100 = 
+200+40=240. This price of production may clearly remain the same, in spite of a change in the value of 
+the commodities. 
+
+All changes in the price of production of commodities are reduced, in the last analysis, to changes in 
+value. But not all changes in the value of commodities need express themselves in changes in the price of 
+production. The price of production is not determined by the value of any one commodity alone, but by 
+the aggregate value of all commodities. A change in commodity A may therefore be balanced by an 
+opposite change in commodity B, so that the general relation remains the same. 
+
+II. PRICE OF PRODUCTION OF COMMODITIES OF AVERAGE COMPOSITION 
+
+We have seen how a deviation in prices of production from values arises from: 1) adding the average 
+profit instead of the surplus-value contained in a commodity to is cost-price; 2) the price of production, 
+which so deviates from the value of a commodity, entering into the cost-price of other commodities as 
+one of its elements, so that the cost-price of a commodity may already contain a deviation from value in 
+those means of production consumed by it, quite aside from a deviation of its own which may arise 
+through a difference between the average profit and the surplus-value. 
+
+It is therefore possible that even the cost-price of commodities produced by capitals of average 
+composition may differ from the sum of the values of the elements which make up this component of 
+their price of production. Suppose, the average composition is 80c+20v. Now, it is possible that in the 
+actual capitals of this composition 80c may be greater or smaller than the value of c, i.e., the constant 
+capital, because this c may be made up of commodities whose price of production differs from their 
+value. In the same way, 20v might diverge from its value if the consumption of the wage includes 
+commodities whose price of production diverges from their value; in which case the labourer would 
+work a longer, or shorter, time to buy them back (to replace them) and would thus perform more, or less, 
+necessary labour than would be required if the price of production of such necessities of life coincided 
+with their value. 
+
+However, this possibility does not detract in the least from the correctness of the theorems demonstrated 
+which hold for commodities of average composition. The quantity of profit falling to these commodities 
+is equal to the quantity of surplus-value contained in them. For instance, in a capital of the given 
+composition 80c+20v, the most important thing in determining surplus-value is not whether these figures 
+are expressions of actual values, but how they are related to one another, i.e., whether v=l/5 of the total 
+capital, and c=4/5. Whenever this is the case, the surplus-value produced by v is, as was assumed, equal 
+to the average profit. On the other hand, since it equals the average profit, the price of production = 
+cost-price plus profit = k+p=k+s; i.e., in practice it is equal to the value of the commodity. This implies 
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 12 
+
+that a rise or fall in wages would not change the price of production, k+p, any more than it would change 
+the value of the commodities, and would merely effect a corresponding opposite movement, a fall or a 
+rise, in the rate of profit. For if a rise or fall of wages were here to bring about a change in the price of 
+commodities, the rate of profit in these spheres of average composition would rise above, or fall below, 
+the level prevailing in other spheres. The sphere of average composition maintains the same level of 
+profit as the other spheres only so long as the price remains unchanged. The practical result is therefore 
+the same as it would be if its products were sold at their real value. For if commodities are sold at their 
+actual values, it is evident that, other conditions being equal, a rise, or fall, in wages will cause a 
+corresponding fall or rise in profit, but no change in the value of commodities, and that under all 
+circumstances a rise or fall in wages can never affect the value of commodities, but only the magnitude 
+of the surplus-value. 
+
+III. THE CAPITALIST'S GROUNDS FOR COMPENSATING 
+
+It has been said that competition levels the rates of profit of the different spheres of production into an 
+average rate of profit and thereby turns the values of the products of these different spheres into prices of 
+production. This occurs through the continual transfer of capital from one sphere to another, in which, for 
+the moment, the profit happens to lie above average. The fluctuations of profit caused by the cycle of fat 
+and lean years succeeding one another in any given branch of industry within given periods must, 
+however, receive due consideration. This incessant outflow and inflow of capital between the different 
+spheres of production creates trends of rise and fall in the rate of profit, which equalise one another more 
+or less and thus have a tendency to reduce the rate of profit everywhere to the same common and general 
+level. 
+
+This movement of capitals is primarily caused by the level of market-prices, which lift profits above the 
+general average in one place and depress them below it in another. Merchant's capital is left out of 
+consideration as it is irrelevant at this point, for we know from the sudden paroxysms of speculation 
+appearing in certain popular articles that it can withdraw masses of capital from one line of business with 
+extraordinary rapidity and throw them with equal rapidity into another. Yet with respect to each sphere of 
+actual production — industry, agriculture, mining, etc. — the transfer of capital from one sphere to another 
+offers considerable difficulties, particularly on account of the existing fixed capital. Experience shows, 
+moreover, that if a branch of industry, such as, say, the cotton industry, yields unusually high profits at 
+one period, it makes very little profit, or even suffers losses, at another, so that in a certain cycle of years 
+the average profit is much the same as in other branches. And capital soon learns to take this experience 
+into account. 
+
+What competition does not show, however, is the determination of value, which dominates the 
+movement of production; and the values that lie beneath the prices of production and that determine them 
+in the last instance. Competition, on the other hand, shows: 1) the average profits, which are independent 
+of the organic composition of capital in the different spheres of production, and therefore also of the 
+mass of living labour appropriated by any given capital in any given sphere of exploitation; 2) the rise 
+and fall of prices of production caused by changes in the level of wages, a phenomenon which at first 
+glance completely contradicts the value relation of commodities; 3) the fluctuations of market-prices, 
+which reduce the average market-price of commodities in a given period of time, not to the market- value, 
+but to a very different market-price of production, which diverges considerably from this market-value. 
+All these phenomena seem to contradict the determination of value by labour-time as much as the nature 
+of surplus-value consisting of unpaid surplus-labour. Thus everything appears reversed in competition. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 12 
+
+The final pattern of economic relations as seen on the surface, in their real existence and consequently in 
+the conceptions by which the bearers and agents of these relations seek to understand them, is very much 
+different from, and indeed quite the reverse of, their inner but concealed essential pattern and the 
+conception corresponding to it. 
+
+Further. As soon as capitalist production reaches a certain level of development, the equalisation of the 
+different rates of profit in individual spheres to general rate of profit no longer proceeds solely through 
+the play of attraction and repulsion, by which market-prices attract or repel capital. After average prices, 
+and their corresponding market-prices, become stable for a time it reaches the consciousness of the 
+individual capitalists that this equalisation balances definite differences, so that they include these in their 
+mutual calculations. The differences exist in the mind of the capitalists and are taken into account as 
+grounds for compensating. 
+
+Average profit is the basic conception, the conception that capitals of equal magnitude must yield equal 
+profits in equal time spans. This, again, is based on the conception that the capital in each sphere of 
+production must share pro rata to its magnitude in the total surplus-value squeezed out of the labourers 
+by the total social capital; or, that every individual capital should be regarded merely as a part of the total 
+social capital, and every capitalist actually as a shareholder in the total social enterprise, each sharing in 
+the total profit pro rata to the magnitude of his share of capital. 
+
+This conception serves as a basis for the capitalist's calculations, for instance, that a capital whose 
+turnover is slower than another's, because its commodities take longer to be produced, or because they 
+are sold in remoter markets, nevertheless charges the profit it loses in this way, and compensates itself by 
+raising the price. Or else, that investments of capital in lines exposed to greater hazards, for instance in 
+shipping, are compensated by higher prices. As soon as capitalist production, and with it the insurance 
+business, are developed, the hazards are, in effect, made equal for all spheres of production (cf. Corbet); 
+but the more hazardous lines pay higher insurance rates, and recover them in the prices of their 
+commodities. In practice all this means that every circumstance, which renders one line of production — 
+and all of them are considered equally necessary within certain limits — less profitable, and another more 
+profitable, is taken into account once and for all as valid ground for compensation, without always 
+requiring the renewed action of competition to justify the motives or factors for calculating this 
+compensation. The capitalist simply forgets — or rather fails to see, because competition does not point it 
+out to him — that all these grounds for compensation mutually advanced by capitalists in calculating the 
+prices of commodities of different lines of production merely come down to the fact that they all have an 
+equal claim, pro rata to the magnitude of their respective capitals, to the common loot, the total 
+surplus-value. It rather seems to them that since the profit pocketed by them differs from the 
+surplus-value they appropriated, these grounds for compensation do not level out their participation in 
+the total surplus-value, but create the profit itself, which seems to be derived from the additions made on 
+one or another ground to the cost-price of their commodities. 
+
+In other respects the statements made in Chapter VII concerning the capitalists' assumptions as to the 
+source of surplus-value, apply also to average profit. The present case appears different only in so far as a 
+saving in cost-price depends on individual business acumen, alertness, etc., assuming the market-price of 
+commodities and the exploitation of labour to be given. 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch12.htm (4 of 5) [23/08/2000 16:01:31] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 12 
+
+Next: Chapter 13 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch12.htm (5 of 5) [23/08/2000 16:01:31] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 13 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Part III 
+
+THE LAW OF THE TENDENCY 
+
+OF THE RATE OF PROFIT TO FALL 
+
+
+
+Chapter XIII 
+
+
+
+THE LAW AS SUCH 
+
+
+
+Assuming a given wage and working-day, a variable capital, for instance of 100, represents a certain 
+number of employed labourers. It is the index of this number. Suppose £100 are the wages of 100 
+labourers for, say, one week. If these labourers perform equal amounts of necessary and surplus-labour, 
+if they work daily as many hours for themselves, i.e., for the reproduction of their wage, as they do for 
+the capitalist, i.e., for the production of surplus-value, then the value of their total product = £200, and 
+the surplus-value they produce would amount to £100. The rate of surplus-value, s/v, would = 100%. 
+But, as we have seen, this rate of surplus-value would nonetheless express itself in very different rates of 
+profit, depending on the different volumes of constant capital c and consequently of the total capital C, 
+because the rate of profit = s/C. The rate of surplus-value is 100%: 
+
+If c = 50, and v = 100, then p' = 100/150 = 662/3%; 
+c = 100, and v = 100, then p' = 100/200 = 50%; 
+c = 200, and v = 100, then p' = 100/300 = 331/3%; 
+c = 300, and v = 100, then p' = 100/400 = 25%; 
+c = 400, and v = 100, then p' = 100/500 = 20%. 1 
+
+This is how the same rate of surplus-value would express itself under the same degree of labour 
+exploitation in a falling rate of profit, because the material growth of the constant capital implies also a 
+growth — albeit not in the same proportion — in its value, and consequently in that of the total capital. 
+
+If it is further assumed that this gradual change in the composition of capital is not confined only to 
+individual spheres of production, but that it occurs more or less in all, or at least in the key spheres of 
+production, so that it involves changes in the average organic composition of the total capital of a certain 
+society, then the gradual growth of constant capital in relation to variable capital must necessarily lead to 
+a gradual fall of the general rate of profit, so long as the rate of surplus-value, or the intensity of 
+exploitation of labour by capital, remain the same. Now we have seen that it is a law of capitalist 
+production that its development is attended by a relative decrease of variable in relation to constant 
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+capital, and consequently to the total capital set in motion. This is just another way of saying that owing 
+to the distinctive methods of production developing in the capitalist system the same number of 
+labourers, i.e., the same quantity of labour-power set in motion by a variable capital of a given value, 
+operate, work up and productively consume in the same time span an ever-increasing quantity of means 
+of labour, machinery and fixed capital of all sorts, raw and auxiliary materials-and consequently a 
+constant capital of an ever-increasing value. This continual relative decrease of the variable capital 
+vis-a-vis the constant, and consequently the total capital, is identical with the progressively higher 
+organic composition of the social capital in its average. It is likewise just another expression for the 
+progressive development of the social productivity of labour, which is demonstrated precisely by the fact 
+that the same number of labourers, in the same time, i.e., with less labour, convert an ever-increasing 
+quantity of raw and auxiliary materials into products, thanks to the growing application of machinery and 
+fixed capital in general. To this growing quantity of value of the constant capital — although indicating 
+the growth of the real mass of use-values of which the constant capital materially consists only 
+approximately — corresponds a progressive cheapening of products. Every individual product, considered 
+by itself, contains a smaller quantity of labour than it did on a lower level of production, where the 
+capital invested in wages occupies a far greater place compared to the capital invested in means of 
+production. The hypothetical series drawn up at the beginning of this chapter expresses, therefore, the 
+actual tendency of capitalist production. This mode of production produces a progressive relative 
+decrease of the variable capital as compared to the constant capital, and consequently a continuously 
+rising organic composition of the total capital. The immediate result of this is that the rate of 
+surplus-value, at the same, or even a rising, degree of labour exploitation, is represented by a continually 
+falling general rate of profit. (We shall see later [Present edition: Ch. XIV. — Ed.] why this fall does not 
+manifest itself in an absolute form, but rather as a tendency toward a progressive fall.) The progressive 
+tendency of the general rate of profit to fail is, therefore, just an expression peculiar to the capitalist 
+mode of production of the progressive development of the social productivity of labour. This does not 
+mean to say that the rate of profit may not fall temporarily for other reasons. But proceeding from the 
+nature of the capitalist mode of production, it is thereby proved logical necessity that in its development 
+the general average rate of surplus-value must express itself in a falling general rate of profit. Since the 
+mass of the employed living labour is continually on the decline as compared to the mass of materialised 
+labour set in motion by it, i.e., to the productively consumed means of production, it follows that the 
+portion of living labour, unpaid and congealed in surplus-value, must also be continually on the decrease 
+compared to the amount of value represented by the invested total capital. Since the ratio of the mass of 
+surplus-value to the value of the invested total capital forms the rate of profit, this rate must constantly 
+fall. 
+
+Simple as this law appears from the foregoing statements, all of political economy has so far had little 
+success in discovering it, as we shall see in a later part. [K. Marx, Theorien iiber den Mehrwert. K. 
+Marx/F. Engels, Werke, Band 26, Teil 2, S. 435-66, 541-43. - Ed.] The economists perceived the 
+phenomenon and cudgelled their brains in tortuous attempts to interpret it. Since this law is of great 
+importance to capitalist production, it may be said to be a mystery whose solution has been the goal of all 
+political economy since Adam Smith, the difference between the various schools since Adam Smith 
+having been in the divergent approaches to a solution. When we consider, on the other hand, that up to 
+the present political economy has been running in circles round the distinction between constant and 
+variable capital, but has never known how to define it accurately; that it has never separated 
+surplus-value from profit, and never even considered profit in its pure form as distinct from its different, 
+independent components, such as industrial profit, commercial profit, interest, and ground-rent; that it 
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+has never thoroughly analysed the differences in the organic composition of capital, and, for this reason, 
+has never thought of analysing the formation of the general rate of profit — if we consider all this, the 
+failure to. solve this riddle is no longer surprising. 
+
+We intentionally present this law before going on to the division of profit into different independent 
+categories. The fact that this analysis is made independently of the division of profit into different parts, 
+which fail to the share of different categories of people, shows from the outset that this law is, in its 
+entirety, independent of this division, and just as independent of the mutual relations of the resultant 
+categories of profit. The profit to which we are here referring is but another name for surplus-value itself, 
+which is presented only in its relation to total capital rather than to variable capital, from which it arises. 
+The drop in the rate of profit, therefore, expresses the falling relation of surplus-value to advanced total 
+capital, and is for this reason independent of any division whatsoever of this surplus-value among the 
+various categories. 
+
+We have seen that at a certain stage of capitalist development, where the organic composition of capital 
+c:v was 50: 100, a rate of surplus-value of 100% was expressed in a rate of profit of 662/3 %, and that at a 
+higher stage, where c:v was 400:100, the same rate of surplus-value was expressed in a rate of profit of 
+only 20%. What is true of different successive stages of development in one country, is also true of 
+different coexisting stages of development in different countries. In an undeveloped country, in which the 
+former composition of capital is the average, the general rate of profit would = 662/3 %, while in a 
+country with the latter composition and a much higher stage of development it would = 20%. 
+
+The difference between the two national rates of profit might disappear, or even be reversed, if labour 
+were less productive in the less developed country, so that a larger quantity of labour were to be 
+represented in a smaller quantity of the same commodities, and a larger exchange- value were represented 
+in less use-value. The labourer would then spend more of his time in reproducing his own means of 
+subsistence, or their value, and less time in producing surplus-value; consequently, he would perform 
+less surplus-labour, with the result that the rate of surplus-value would be lower. Suppose, the labourer of 
+the less developed country were to work 2/3 of the working-day for himself and 1/3 for the capitalist; in 
+accordance with the above illustration, the same labour-power would then be paid with 1331/3 and would 
+furnish a surplus of only 602/3 . A constant capital of 50 would correspond to a variable capital of 4331/3 
+. The rate of surplus-value would amount to 662/3 : 1331/3 = 50%, and the rate of profit to 662/3 : 1331/3 , 
+or approximately 36%. 
+
+Since we have not so far analysed the different component parts of profit, i.e., they do not for the present 
+exist for us, we make the following remarks beforehand merely to avoid misunderstanding: In comparing 
+countries in different stages of development it would be a big mistake to measure the level of the national 
+rate of profit by, say, the level of the national rate of interest, namely when comparing countries with a 
+developed capitalist production with countries in which labour has not yet been formally subjected to 
+capital, although in reality the labourer is exploited by the capitalist (as, for instance, in India, where the 
+ryot manages his farm as an independent producer whose production as such is not, therefore, as yet 
+subordinated to capital, although the usurer may not only rob him of his entire surplus-labour by means 
+of interest, but may also, to use a capitalist term, hack off a part of his wage). This interest comprises all 
+the profit, and more than the profit, instead of merely expressing an aliquot part of the produced 
+surplus-value, or profit, as it does in countries with a developed capitalist production. On the other hand, 
+the rate of interest is, in this case, mostly determined by relations (loans granted by usurers to owners of 
+larger estates who draw ground-rent) which have nothing to do with profit, and rather indicate to what 
+
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+
+extent usury appropriates ground-rent. 
+
+As regards countries possessing different stages of development of capitalist production, and 
+consequently capitals of different organic composition, a country where the normal working-day is 
+shorter than another's may have a higher rate of surplus-value (one of the factors which determines the 
+rate of profit). First, if the English ten-hour working-day is, on account of its higher intensity, equal to an 
+Austrian working-day of 14 hours, then, dividing the working-day equally in both instances, 5 hours of 
+English surplus-labour may represent a greater value on the world-market than 7 hours of Austrian 
+surplus-labour. Second, a larger portion of the English working-day than of the Austrian may represent 
+surplus-labour. 
+
+The law of the falling rate of profit, which expresses the same, or even a higher, rate of surplus-value, 
+states, in other words, that any quantity of the average social capital, say, a capital of 100, comprises an 
+ever larger portion or means of labour, and an ever smaller portion of living labour. Therefore, since the 
+aggregate mass of living labour operating the means of production decreases in relation to the value of 
+these means of production, it follows that the unpaid labour and the portion of value in which it is 
+expressed must decline as compared to the value of the advanced total capital. Or: An ever smaller 
+aliquot part of invested total capital is converted into living labour, and this total capital, therefore, 
+absorbs in proportion to its magnitude less and less surplus-labour, although the unpaid part of the labour 
+applied may at the same time grow in relation to the paid part. The relative decrease of the variable and 
+increase of the constant capital, however much both parts may grow in absolute magnitude, is, as we 
+have said, but another expression for greater productivity of labour. 
+
+Let a capital of 100 consist of 80c+20v, and the latter = 20 labourers. Let the rate of surplus-value be 
+100%, i.e., the labourers work half the day for themselves and the other half for the capitalist. Now let 
+the capital of 100 in a less developed country = 20c+80v, and let the latter = 80 labourers. But these 
+labourers require 213 of the day for themselves, and work only for the capitalist. Everything else being 
+equal, the labourers in the first case produce a value of 40, and in the second of 120. The first capital 
+produces 80c+20v+20s = 120; rate of profit = 20%. The second capital, 20c+80v+40s = 140; rate of 
+profit 40%. In the second case the rate of profit is, therefore, double the first, although the rate of 
+surplus-value in the first = 100%, which is double that of the second, where it is only 50%. But then, a 
+capital of the same magnitude appropriates the surplus-labour of only 20 labourers in the first case, and 
+of 80 labourers in the second case. 
+
+The law of the progressive falling of the rate of profit, or the relative decline of appropriated 
+surplus-labour compared to the mass of materialised labour set in motion by living labour, does not rule 
+out in any way that the absolute mass of exploited labour set in motion by the social capital, and 
+consequently the absolute mass of the surplus-labour it appropriates, may grow; nor, that the capitals 
+controlled by individual capitalists may dispose of a growing mass of labour and, hence, of 
+surplus-labour, the latter even though the number of labourers they employ does not increase. 
+
+Take a certain working population of, say, two million. Assume, furthermore, that the length and 
+intensity of the average working-day, and the level of wages, and thereby the proportion between 
+necessary and surplus-labour, are given. In that case the aggregate labour of these two million, and their 
+surplus-labour expressed in surplus-value, always produces the same magnitude of value. But with the 
+growth of the mass of the constant (fixed and circulating) capital set in motion by this labour, this 
+produced quantity of value declines in relation to the value of this capital, which value grows with its 
+
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+
+mass, even if not in quite the same proportion. This ratio, and consequently the rate of profit, shrinks in 
+spite of the fact that the mass of commanded living labour is the same as before, and the same amount of 
+surplus-labour is sucked out of it by the capital. It changes because the mass of materialised labour set in 
+motion by living labour increases, and not because the mass of living labour has shrunk. It is a relative 
+decrease, not an absolute one, and has, in fact, nothing to do with the absolute magnitude of the labour 
+and surplus-labour set in motion. The drop in the rate of profit is not due to an absolute, but only to a 
+relative decrease of the variable part of the total capital, i.e., to its decrease in relation to the constant 
+part. 
+
+What applies to any given mass of labour and surplus-labour, also applies to a growing number of 
+labourers, and, thus, under the above assumption, to any growing mass of commanded labour in general, 
+and to its unpaid part, the surplus-labour, in particular. If the working population increases from two 
+million to three, and if the variable capital invested in wages also rises to three million from its former 
+two million, while the constant capital rises from four million to fifteen million, then, under the above 
+assumption of a constant working-day and a constant rate of surplus-value, the mass of surplus-labour, 
+and of surplus-value, rises by one-half, i.e., 50%, from two million to three. Nevertheless, in spite of this 
+growth of the absolute mass of surplus-labour, and hence of surplus-value, by 50%, the ratio of variable 
+to constant capital would fall from 2 : 4 to 3 : 15, and the ratio of surplus-value to total capital would be 
+(in millions) 
+
+I. 4c+2v+2s; C = 6, p' = 331/3 %. 
+
+II. 15c+3v+3s; C = 18, p' = 162/3 %. 
+
+While the mass of surplus-value has increased by one-half, the rate of profit has fallen by one-half. 
+However, the profit is only the surplus-value calculated in relation to the total social capital, and the mass 
+of profit, its absolute magnitude, is socially equal to the absolute magnitude of the surplus-value. The 
+absolute magnitude of the profit, its total amount, would, therefore, have grown by 50%, in spite of its 
+enormous relative decrease compared to the advanced total capital, or in spite of the enormous decrease 
+in the general rate of profit. The number of labourers employed by capital, hence the absolute mass of the 
+labour set in motion by it, and therefore the absolute mass of surplus-labour absorbed by it, the mass of 
+the surplus-value produced by it, and therefore the absolute mass of the profit produced by it, can, 
+consequently, increase, and increase progressively, in spite of the progressive drop in the rate of profit. 
+And this not only can be so. Aside from temporary fluctuations it must be so, on the basis of capitalist 
+production. 
+
+Essentially, the capitalist process of production is simultaneously a process of accumulation. We have 
+shown that with the development of capitalist production the mass of values to be simply reproduced, or 
+maintained, increases as the productivity of labour grows, even if the labour-power employed should 
+remain constant. But with the development of social productivity of labour the mass of produced 
+use-values, of which the means of production form a part, grows still more. And the additional labour, 
+through whose appropriation this additional wealth can be reconverted into capital, does not depend on 
+the value, but on the mass of these means of production (including means of subsistence), because in the 
+production process the labourers have nothing to do with the value, but with the use-value, of the means 
+of production. Accumulation itself, however, and the concentration of capital that goes with it, is a 
+material means of increasing productiveness. Now, this growth of the means of production includes the 
+growth of the working population, the creation of a working population, which corresponds to the 
+
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+surplus-capital, or even exceeds its general requirements, thus leading to an over-population of workers. 
+A momentary excess of surplus-capital over the working population it has commandeered, would have a 
+two-fold effect. It could, on the one hand, by raising wages, mitigate the adverse conditions which 
+decimate the offspring of the labourers and would make marriages easier among them, so as gradually to 
+increase the population. On the other hand, by applying methods which yield relative surplus-value 
+(introduction and improvement of machinery) it would produce a far more rapid, artificial, relative 
+over-population, which in its turn, would be a breeding-ground for a really swift propagation of the 
+population, since under capitalist production misery produces population. It therefore follows of itself 
+from the nature of the capitalist process of accumulation, which is but one facet of the capitalist 
+production process, that the increased mass of means of production that is to be converted into capital 
+always finds a correspondingly increased, even excessive, exploitable worker population. As the process 
+of production and accumulation advances therefore, the mass of available and appropriated 
+surplus-labour, and hence the absolute mass of profit appropriated by the social capital, must grow. 
+Along with the volume, however, the same laws of production and accumulation increase also the value 
+of the constant capital in a mounting progression more rapidly than that of the variable part of capital, 
+invested as it is in living labour. Hence, the same laws produce for the social capital a growing absolute 
+mass of profit, and a falling rate of profit. 
+
+We shall entirely ignore here that with the advance of capitalist production and the attendant 
+development of the productiveness of social labour and multiplication of production branches, hence 
+products, the same amount of value represents a progressively increasing mass of use-values and 
+enjoyments. 
+
+The development of capitalist production and accumulation lifts labour-processes to an increasingly 
+enlarged scale and thus imparts to them ever greater dimensions, and involves accordingly larger 
+investments of capital for each individual establishment. A mounting concentration of capitals 
+(accompanied, though on a smaller scale, by an increase in the number of capitalists) is, therefore, one of 
+its material requirements as well as one of its results. Hand in hand with it, mutually interacting, there 
+occurs a progressive expropriation of the more or less direct producers. It is, then, natural for the 
+individual capitalists to command increasingly large armies of labourers (no matter, how much the 
+variable capital may decrease in relation to the constant), and natural, too, that the mass of surplus-value, 
+and hence profit, appropriated by them, should grow simultaneously with, and in spite of, the fall in the 
+rate of profit. The causes which concentrate masses of labourers under the command of individual 
+capitalists, are the very same that swell the mass of the invested fixed capital, and auxiliary and raw 
+materials, in mounting proportion as compared to the mass of employed living labour. 
+
+It requires no more than a passing remark at this point to indicate that, given a certain labouring 
+population, the mass of surplus-value, hence the absolute mass of profit, must grow if the rate of 
+surplus-value increases, be it through a lengthening or intensification of the working-day, or through a 
+drop in the value of wages due to an increase in the productiveness of labour, and that it must do so in 
+spite of the relative decrease of variable capital in respect to constant. 
+
+The same development of the productiveness of social labour, the same laws which express themselves 
+in a relative decrease of variable as compared to total capital, and in the thereby facilitated accumulation, 
+while this accumulation in its turn becomes a starting-point for the further development of the 
+productiveness and for a further relative decrease of variable capital — this same development manifests 
+itself, aside from temporary fluctuations, in a progressive increase of the total employed labour-power 
+
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+and a progressive increase of the absolute mass of surplus-value, and hence of profit. 
+
+Now, what must be the form of this double-edged law of a decrease in the rate of profit and a 
+simultaneous increase in the absolute mass of profit arising from the same causes? As a law based on the 
+fact that under given conditions the appropriated mass of surplus-labour, hence of surplus-value, 
+increases, and that, so far as the total capital is concerned, or the individual capital as an aliquot part of 
+the total capital, profit and surplus-value are identical magnitudes? 
+
+Let us take an aliquot part of capital upon which we calculate the rate of profit, e.g., 100. These 100 
+represent the average composition of the total capital, say, 80c +20v. We have seen in the second part of 
+this book that the average rate of profit in the various branches of production is determined not by the 
+particular composition of each individual capital, but by the average social composition. As the variable 
+capital decreases relative to the constant, hence the total capital of 100, the rate of profit, or the relative 
+magnitude of surplus-value, i.e., its ratio to the advanced total capital of 100, falls even though the 
+intensity of exploitation were to remain the same, or even to increase. But it is not this relative magnitude 
+alone which falls. The magnitude of the surplus-value or profit absorbed by the total capital of 100 also 
+falls absolutely. At a rate of surplus-value of 100%, a capital of 60c+40v produces a mass of 
+surplus-value, and hence of profit, amounting to 40; a capital of 80c+20v a mass of profit of 30; and for a 
+capital of 80c+20v the profit falls to 20. This falling applies to the mass of surplus-value, and hence of 
+profit, and is due to the fact that the total capital of 100 employs less living labour, and, the intensity of 
+labour exploitation remaining the same, sets in motion less surplus-labour, and therefore produces less 
+surplus-value. Taking any aliquot part of the social capital, i.e., a capital of average composition, as a 
+standard by which to measure surplus-value — and this is done in all profit calculations — a relative fall 
+of surplus-value is generally identical with its absolute fall. In the cases given above, the rate of profit 
+sinks from 40% to 30% and to 20%, because, in fact, the mass of surplus-value, and hence of profit, 
+produced by the same capital falls absolutely from 40 to 30 and to 20. Since the magnitude of the value 
+of the capital, by which the surplus- value is measured, is given as 100, a fall in the proportion of 
+surplus-value to this given magnitude can be only another expression for the decrease of the absolute 
+magnitude of surplus-value and profit. This is, indeed, a tautology. But, as shown, the fact that this 
+decrease occurs at all, arises from the nature of the development of the capitalist process of production. 
+
+On the other hand, however, the same causes which bring about an absolute decrease of surplus-value, 
+and hence profit, on a given capital, and consequently of the rate of profit calculated in per cent, produce 
+an increase in the absolute mass of surplus-value, and hence of profit, appropriated by the social capital 
+{i.e., by all capitalists taken as a whole). How does this occur, what is the only way in which this can 
+occur, or what are the conditions obtaining in this seeming contradiction? 
+
+If any aliquot part = 100 of the social capital, and hence any 100 of average social composition, is a 
+given magnitude, for which therefore a fall in the rate of profit coincides with a fall in the absolute 
+magnitude of the profit because the capital which here serves as a standard of measurement is a constant 
+magnitude, then the magnitude of the social capital like that of the capital in the hands of individual 
+capitalists, is variable, and in keeping with our assumptions it must vary inversely with the decrease of its 
+variable portion. 
+
+In our former illustration, when the percentage of composition was 60c+40v, the corresponding 
+surplus-value, or profit, was 40, and hence the rate of profit 40%. Suppose, the total capital in this stage 
+of composition was one million. Then the total surplus-value, and hence the total profit, amounted to 
+
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+400,000. Now, if the composition later = 80c+20v, while the degree of labour exploitation remained the 
+same, then the surplus-value or profit for each 100 = 20. But since the absolute mass of surplus-value or 
+profit increases, as demonstrated, in spite of the decreasing rate of profit or the decreasing production of 
+surplus-value by every 100 of capital — increases, say, from 400,000 to 440,000, then this occurs solely 
+because the total capital which formed at the time of this new composition has risen to 2,200,000. The 
+mass of the total capital set in motion has risen to 220%, while the rate of profit has fallen by 50%. Had 
+the total capital no more than doubled, it would have to produce as much surplus-value and profit to 
+obtain a rate of profit of 20% as the old capital of 1,000,000 produced at 40%. Had it grown to less than 
+double, it would have produced less surplus-value, or profit, than the old capital of 1,000,000, which, in 
+its former composition, would have had to grow from 1,000,000 to no more than 1,100,000 to raise its 
+surplus-value from 400,000 to 440,000. 
+
+We again meet here the previously defined law that the relative decrease of the variable capital, hence the 
+development of the social productiveness of labour, involves an increasingly large mass of total capital to 
+set in motion the same quantity of labour-power and squeeze out the same quantity of surplus-labour. 
+Consequently, the possibility of a relative surplus of labouring people develops proportionately to the 
+advances made by capitalist production not because the productiveness of social labour decreases, but 
+because it increases. It does not therefore arise out of an absolute disproportion between labour and the 
+means of subsistence, or the means for the production of these means of subsistence, but out of a 
+disproportion occasioned by capitalist exploitation of labour, a disproportion between the progressive 
+growth of capital and its relatively shrinking need for an increasing population. 
+
+Should the rate of profit fall by 50%, it would shrink one-half. If the mass of profit is to remain the same, 
+the capital must be doubled. For the mass of profit made at a declining rate of profit to remain the same, 
+the multiplier indicating the growth of the total capital must be equal to the divisor indicating the fall of 
+the rate of profit. If the rate of profit falls from 40 to 20, the total capital must rise inversely at the rate of 
+20:40 to obtain the same result. If the rate of profit falls from 40 to 8, the capital would have to increase 
+at the rate of 8:40, or five-fold. A capital of 1,000,000 at 40% produces 400,000, and a capital of 
+5,000,000 at 8% likewise produces 400,000. This applies if we want the result to remain the same. But if 
+the result is to be higher, then the capital must grow at a greater rate than the rate of profit falls. In other 
+words, for the variable portion of the total capital not to remain the same in absolute terms, but to 
+increase absolutely in spite of its falling in percentage of the total capital, the total capital must grow at a 
+faster rate than the percentage of the variable capital falls. It must grow so considerably that in its new 
+composition it should require more than the old portion of variable capital to purchase labour-power. If 
+the variable portion of a capital =100 should fall from 40 to 20, the total capital must rise higher than 
+200 to be able to employ a larger variable capital than 40. 
+
+Even if the exploited mass of the working population were to remain constant, and only the length and 
+intensity of the working-day were to increase, the mass of the invested capital would have to increase, 
+since it would have to be greater in order to employ the same mass of labour under the old conditions of 
+exploitation after the composition of capital changes. 
+
+Thus, the same development of the social productiveness of labour expresses itself with the progress of 
+capitalist production on the one hand in a tendency of the rate of profit to fall progressively and, on the 
+other, in a progressive growth of the absolute mass of the appropriated surplus-value, or profit; so that on 
+the whole a relative decrease of variable capital and profit is accompanied by an absolute increase of 
+both. This two-fold effect, as we have seen, can express itself only in a growth of the total capital at a 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 13 
+
+pace more rapid than that at which the rate of profit falls. For an absolutely increased variable capital to 
+be employed in a capital of higher composition, or one in which the constant capital has increased 
+relatively more, the total capital must not only grow proportionately to its higher composition, but still 
+more rapidly. It follows, then, that as the capitalist mode of production develops, an ever larger quantity 
+of capital is required to employ the same, let alone an increased, amount of labour-power. Thus, on a 
+capitalist foundation, the increasing productiveness of labour necessarily and permanently creates a 
+seeming over-population of labouring people. If the variable capital forms just 1/6 of the total capital 
+instead of the former, the total capital must be trebled to employ the same amount of labour-power. And 
+if twice as much labour-power is to be employed, the total capital must increase six-fold. 
+
+Political economy, which has until now been unable to explain the law of the tendency of the rate of 
+profit to fall, pointed self-consolingly to the increasing mass of profit, i.e., to the growth of the absolute 
+magnitude of profit, be it for the individual capitalist or for the social capital, but this was also based on 
+mere platitude and speculation. 
+
+To say that the mass of profit is determined by two factors — first, the rate of profit, and, secondly, the 
+mass of capital invested at this rate, is mere tautology. It is therefore but a corollary of this tautology to 
+say that there is a possibility for the mass of profit to grow even though the rate of profit may fall at the 
+same time. It does not help us one step farther, since it is just as possible for the capital to increase 
+without the mass of profit growing, and for it to increase even while the mass of profit falls. For 100 at 
+25% yields 25, and 400 at 5% yields only 20.JJJ But if the same causes which make the rate of profit fall, 
+entail the accumulation, i.e., the formation, of additional capital, and if each additional capital employs 
+additional labour and produces additional surplus- value; if, on the other hand, the mere fall in the rate of 
+profit implies that the constant capital, and with it the total old capital, have increased, then this process 
+ceases to be mysterious. We shall see later [K. Marx, Theorien ber den Mehrwert. K. Marx/F. Engels, 
+Werk,, Band 26, Teil 2,. S. 435-66, 541- 43. - Ed] to what deliberate falsifications some people resort in 
+their calculations to spirit away the possibility of an increase in the mass of profit simultaneous with a 
+decrease in the rate of profit. 
+
+We have shown how the same causes that bring about a tendency for the general rate of profit to fall 
+necessitate an accelerated accumulation of capital and, consequently, an increase in the absolute 
+magnitude, or total mass, of the surplus-labour (surplus-value, profit) appropriated by it. Just as 
+everything appears reversed in competition, and thus in the consciousness of the agents of competition, 
+so also this law, this inner and necessary connection between two seeming contradictions. It is evident 
+that within the proportions indicated above a capitalist disposing of a large capital will receive a larger 
+mass of profit than a small capitalist making seemingly high profits. Even a cursory examination of 
+competition shows, furthermore, that under certain circumstances, when the greater capitalist wishes to 
+make room for himself on the market, and to crowd out the smaller ones, as happens in times of crises, 
+he makes practical use of this, i.e., he deliberately lowers his rate of profit in order to drive the smaller 
+ones to the wall. Merchants capital, which we shall describe in detail later, also notably exhibits 
+phenomena which appear to attribute a fall in profit to an expansion of business, and thus of capital. The 
+scientific expression for this false conception will be given later. Similar superficial observations result 
+from a comparison of rates of profit in individual lines of business, distinguished either as subject to free 
+competition, or to monopoly. The utterly shallow conception existing in the minds of the agents of 
+competition is found in Roscher, namely, that a reduction in the rate of profit is "more prudent and 
+humane". [Roscher, Die Grundlage der Nationalkonomie, 3 Auflage, 1858, 108, S. 192. - Ed.] The fall 
+in the rate of profit appears in this case as an effect of an increase in capital and of the concomitant 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 13 
+
+calculation of the capitalist that the mass of profits pocketed by him will be greater at a smaller rate of 
+profit. This entire conception (with the exception of Adam Smiths, which we shall mention later) [K. 
+Marx, Theorien ber den Mehrwert. K. Marx/F. Engels, Werke, Band 26, Teil 2, S. 214-28. — Ed.} rests 
+on an utter misapprehension of what the general rate of profit is, and on the crude notion that prices are 
+actually determined by adding a more or less arbitrary quota of profit to the true value of commodities. 
+Crude as these ideas are, they arise necessarily out of the inverted aspect which the immanent laws of 
+capitalist production represent in competition. 
+
+The law that a fall in the rate of profit due to the development of productiveness is accompanied by an 
+increase in the mass of profit, also expresses itself in the fact that a fall in the price of commodities 
+produced by a capital is accompanied by a relative increase of the masses of profit contained in them and 
+realised by their sale. 
+
+Since the development of the productiveness and the correspondingly higher composition of capital sets 
+in motion an ever-increasing quantity of means of production through a constantly decreasing quantity of 
+labour, every aliquot part of the total product, i.e., every single commodity, or each particular lot of 
+commodities in the total mass of products, absorbs less living labour, and also contains less materialised 
+labour, both in the depreciation of the fixed capital applied and in the raw and auxiliary materials 
+consumed. Hence every single commodity contains a smaller sum of labour materialised in means of 
+production and of labour newly added during production. This causes the price of the individual 
+commodity to fall. But the mass of profits contained in the individual commodities may nevertheless 
+increase if the rate of the absolute or relative surplus-value grows. The commodity contains less newly 
+added labour, but its unpaid portion grows in relation to its paid portion. However, this is the case only 
+within certain limits. With the absolute amount of living labour newly incorporated in individual 
+commodities decreasing enormously as production develops, the absolute mass of unpaid labour 
+contained in them will likewise decrease, however much it may have grown as compared to the paid 
+portion. The mass of profit on each individual commodity will shrink considerably with the development 
+of the productiveness of labour, in spite of a growth in the rate of surplus-value. And this reduction, just 
+as the fall in the rate of profit, is only delayed by the cheapening of the elements of constant capital and 
+by the other circumstances set forth in the first part of this book, which increase the rate of profit at a 
+given, or even falling, rate of surplus-value. 
+
+That the price of individual commodities whose sum makes up the total product of capital falls, means 
+simply that a certain quantity of labour is realised in a larger quantity of commodities, so that each 
+individual commodity contains less labour than before. This is the case even if the price of one part of 
+constant capital, such as raw material, etc., should rise. Outside of a few cases (for instance, if the 
+productiveness of labour uniformly cheapens all elements of the constant, and the variable, capital), the 
+rate of profit will fall, in spite of the higher rate of surplus-value, 1) because even a larger unpaid portion 
+of the smaller total amount of newly added labour is smaller than a smaller aliquot unpaid portion of the 
+former larger amount and 2) because the higher composition of capital is expressed in the individual 
+commodity by the fact that the portion of its value in which newly added labour is materialised decreases 
+in relation to the portion of its value which represents raw and auxiliary material, and the wear and tear 
+of fixed capital. This change in the proportion of the various component parts in the price of individual 
+commodities, i.e., the decrease of that portion of the price in which newly added living labour is 
+materialised, and the increase of that portion of it in which formerly materialised labour is represented, is 
+the form which expresses the decrease of the variable in relation to the constant capital through the price 
+of the individual commodities. Just as this decrease is absolute for a certain amount of capital, say of 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 13 
+
+100, it is also absolute for every individual commodity as an aliquot part of the reproduced capital. 
+However, the rate of profit, if calculated merely on the elements of the price of an individual commodity, 
+would be different from what it actually is. And for the following reason: 
+
+[The rate of profit is calculated on the total capital invested, but for a definite time, actually a year. The 
+rate of profit is the ratio of the surplus-value, or profit, produced and realised in a year, to the total capital 
+calculated in per cent. It is, therefore, not necessarily equal to a rate of profit calculated for the period of 
+turnover of the invested capital rather than for a year. It is only if the capital is turned over exactly in one 
+year that the two coincide. 
+
+On the other hand, the profit made in the course of a year is merely the sum of profits on commodities 
+produced and sold during that same year. Now, if we calculate the profit on the cost-price of 
+commodities, we obtain a rate of profit = p/k in which p stands for the profit realised during one year, 
+and k for the sum of the cost-prices of commodities produced and sold within the same period. It is 
+evident that this rate of profit p/k will not coincide with the actual rate of profit p/C, mass of profit 
+divided by total capital, unless k = C, that is, unless the capital is turned over in exactly one year. 
+
+Let us take three different conditions of an industrial capital. 
+
+I. A capital of £8,000 produces and sells annually 5,000 pieces of a commodity at 30s. per piece, thus 
+making an annual turnover of £7,500. It makes a profit of 10s. on each piece, or £2,500 per year. Every 
+piece, then, contains 20s. advanced capital and 10s. profit, so that the rate of profit per piece is 10/20 = 
+50%. The turned-over sum of £7,500 contains £5,000 advanced capital and £2,500 profit. Rate of profit 
+per turnover, p/k, likewise 50%. But calculated on the total capital the rate of profit p/C = 2,500/8,000 = 
+31 % 
+
+II. The capital rises to £10,000. Owing to increased productivity of labour it is able to produce annually 
+10,000 pieces of the commodity at a cost-price of 20s. per piece. Suppose the commodity is sold at a 
+profit of 4s., hence at 24s. per piece. In that case the price of the annual product = £12,000, of which 
+£10,000 is advanced capital and £2,000 is profit. The rate of profit p/k = 4/20 per piece, and 2,000/10,000 
+for the annual turnover, or in both cases = 20%. And since the total capital is equal to the sum of the 
+cost-prices, namely £10,000, it follows that p/C, the actual rate of profit, is in this case also 20%. 
+
+III. Let the capital rise to £15,000 owing to a constant growth of the productiveness of labour, and let it 
+annually produce 30,000 pieces of the commodity at a cost-price of 13s. per piece, each piece being sold 
+at a profit of 2s., or at 15s. The annual turnover therefore = 30,OOOxl5s. = £22,500, of which £19,500 is 
+advanced capital and £3,000 profit. The rate of profit p/k then = 2/13 = 3,000/15,000 = 20%. 
+
+We see, therefore, that only in case II, where the turned-over capital-value is equal to the total capital, the 
+rate of profit per piece, or per total amount of turnover, is the same as the rate of profit calculated on the 
+total capital. In case I, in which the amount of the turnover is smaller than the total capital, the rate of 
+profit calculated on the cost-price of the commodity is higher; and in case III, in which the total capital is 
+smaller than the amount of the turnover, it is lower than the actual rate calculated on the total capital. 
+This is a general rule. 
+
+In commercial practice, the turnover is generally calculated inaccurately. It is assumed that the capital 
+has been turned over once as soon as the sum of the realised commodity-prices equals the sum of the 
+invested total capital. But the capital can complete one whole turnover only when the sum of the 
+cost-prices of the realised commodities equals the sum of the total capital. — F.E.] 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 13 
+
+This again shows how important it is in capitalist production to regard individual commodities, or the 
+commodity-product of a certain period, as products of advanced capital and in relation to the total capital 
+which produces them, rather than in isolation, by themselves, as mere commodities. 
+
+The rate of profit must be calculated by measuring the mass of produced and realised surplus-value not 
+only in relation to the consumed portion of capital reappearing in the commodities, but also to this part 
+plus that portion of unconsumed but applied capital which continues to operate in production. However, 
+the mass of profit cannot he equal to anything but the mass of profit or surplus-value, contained in the 
+commodities themselves, and to he realised by their sale. 
+
+If the productivity of industry increases, the price of individual commodities falls. There is less labour in 
+them, less paid and unpaid labour. Suppose, the same labour produces, say, triple its former product. 
+Then 2/3 less labour yields individual product. And since profit can make up but a portion of the amount 
+of labour contained in an individual commodity, the mass of profit in the individual commodity must 
+decrease, and this takes place within certain limits, even if the rate of surplus-value should rise. In any 
+case, the mass of profit on the total product does not fall below the original mass of profit so long as the 
+capital employs the same number of labourers at the same degree of exploitation. (This may also occur if 
+fewer labourers are employed at a higher rate of exploitation.) For the mass of profit on the individual 
+product decreases proportionately to the increase in the number of products. The mass of profit remains 
+the same, but it is distributed differently over the total amount of commodities. Nor does this alter the 
+distribution between the labourers and capitalists of the amount of value created by newly added labour. 
+The mass of profit cannot increase so long as the same amount of labour is employed, unless the unpaid 
+surplus-labour increases, or, should intensity of exploitation remain the same, unless the number of 
+labourers grows. Or, both these causes may combine to produce this result. In all these cases-which, 
+however, in accordance with our assumption, presuppose an increase of constant capital as compared to 
+variable, and an increase in the magnitude of total capital — the individual commodity contains a smaller 
+mass of profit and the rate of profit falls even if calculated on the individual commodity. A given 
+quantity of newly added labour materialises in a larger quantity of commodities. The price of the 
+individual commodity falls. Considered abstractly the rate of profit may remain the same, even though 
+the price of the individual commodity may fall as a result of greater productiveness of labour and a 
+simultaneous increase in the number of this cheaper commodity if, for instance, the increase in 
+productiveness of labour acts uniformly and simultaneously on all the elements of the commodity, so that 
+its total price falls in the same proportion in which the productivity of labour increases, while, on the 
+other hand, the mutual relation of the different elements of the price of the commodity remains the same. 
+The rate of profit could even rise if a rise in the rate of surplus-value were accompanied by a substantial 
+reduction in the value of the elements of constant, and particularly of fixed, capital. But in reality, as we 
+have seen, the rate of profit will fall in the long run. In no case does a fall in the price of any individual 
+commodity by itself give a clue to the rate of profit. Everything depends on the magnitude of the total 
+capital invested in its production. For instance, if the price of one yard of fabric falls from 3s. to 12/3 s., if 
+we know that before this price reduction it contained 12/3 s. constant capital, yarn, etc., 2/3 s. wages, and 
+2/3 s. profit, while after the reduction it contains Is. constant capital, 1/3 s. wages, and 1/3 s. profit, we 
+cannot tell if the rate of profit has remained the same or not. This depends on whether, and by how much, 
+the advanced total capital has increased, and how many yards more it produces in a given time. 
+
+The phenomenon, springing from the nature of the capitalist mode of production, that increasing 
+productivity of labour implies a drop in the price of the individual commodity, or of a certain mass of 
+commodities, an increase in the number of commodities, a reduction in the mass of profit on the 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 13 
+
+individual commodity and in the rate of profit on the aggregate of commodities, and an increase in the 
+mass of profit on the total quantity of commodities — this phenomenon appears on the surface only in a 
+reduction of the mass of profit on the individual commodity, a fall in its price, an increase in the mass of 
+profit on the augmented total number of commodities produced by the total social capital or an individual 
+capitalist. It then appears as if the capitalist adds less profit to the price of the individual commodity of 
+his own free will, and makes up for it through the greater number of commodities he produces. This 
+conception rests upon the notion of profit upon alienation, which, in its turn, is deduced from the 
+conception of merchant capital. 
+
+We have previously seen in Book I (4 and 7 Abschnitt) [English edition: Parts IV and VII. — Ed.] that the 
+mass of commodities growing along with the productivity of labour and the cheapening of the individual 
+commodity as such (as long as these commodities do not enter the price of labour-power as determinants) 
+— that this does not affect the proportion between paid and unpaid labour in the individual commodity, in 
+spite of the falling price. 
+
+Since all things appear distorted, namely, reversed in competition, the individual capitalist may imagine: 
+1) that he is reducing his profit on the individual commodity by cutting its price, but still making a 
+greater profit by selling a larger quantity of commodities; 2) that he fixes the price of the individual 
+commodities and that he determines the price of the total product by multiplication, while the original 
+process is really one of division (see Book I, Kap. X, S. 281 [English edition: Ch. XII. — Ed]), and 
+multiplication is only correct secondarily, since it is based on that division. The vulgar economist does 
+practically no more than translate the singular concepts of the capitalists, who are in the thrall of 
+competition, into a seemingly more theoretical and generalised language, and attempt to substantiate the 
+justice of those conceptions. 
+
+The fall in commodity-prices and the rise in the mass of profit on the augmented mass of these 
+cheapened commodities is, in fact, but another expression for the law of the falling rate of profit attended 
+by a simultaneously increasing mass of profit. 
+
+The analysis of how far a falling rate of profit may coincide with rising prices no more belongs here than 
+that of the point previously discussed in Book I (S. 280-81 [English edition: Ch. XII. — Ed.]), concerning 
+relative surplus-value. A capitalist working with improved but not as yet generally adopted methods of 
+production sells below the market-price, but above his individual price of production;, his rate of profit 
+rises until competition levels it out. During this equalisation period the second requisite, expansion of the 
+invested capital, makes its appearance. According to the degree of this expansion the capitalist will be 
+able to employ a part of his former labourers, actually perhaps all of them, or even more, under the new 
+conditions, and hence to produce the same, or a greater, mass of profit. 
+
+FOOTNOTES 
+
+[11 "We should also expect that, however the rate of the profits of stock might diminish in consequence 
+of the accumulation of capital on the land and the rise of wages, yet the aggregate amount of profits 
+would increase. Thus, supposing that, with repeated accumulations of £100,000, the rate of profit should 
+fall from 20 to 19, to 48, to 17%, a constantly diminishing rate, we should expect that the whole amount 
+of profits received by those successive owners of capital would he always progressive; that it would be 
+greater when the capital was £200,000, than when £100,000; still greater when £300,000; and so on, 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 13 
+
+increasing, though at a diminishing rate, with every increase of capital. This progression, however, is 
+only true for a certain time; thus 19% on £200,000 is more than 20% on £100,000; again 18% on 
+£300,000 is more than 19% on £200,000; but after capital has accumulated to a large amount, and profits 
+have fallen, the further accumulation diminishes the aggregate of profits. Thus, suppose the accumulation 
+should be £1,000,000, and the profits 7%, the whole amount of profits will be £70,000; now if an 
+addition of £100,000 capital be made to the million, and profits should fall to 6%, £66,000 or a 
+diminution of £4,000 will be received by the owners of the stock, although the whole amount of stock 
+will be increased from £1,000,000 to £1,100,000." — Ricardo, Political Economy, Chap. VI (Works, ed. 
+by MacCulloch, 1852, pp. 68-69). -- The fact is, that the assumption has here been made that the capital 
+increases from 1,000,000 to 1,100,000, that is, by 10%, while the rate of profit falls from 7 to 6, hence by 
+142/7%. Hinc illae lacrimae! [Publius, Terence, Andria, Act I, Scene 1. — Ed.~\ 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 14 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 14 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Part III 
+
+THE LAW OF THE TENDENCY 
+
+OF THE RATE OF PROFIT TO FALL 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV 
+
+
+
+COUNTERACTING INFLUENCES 
+
+
+
+If we consider the enormous development of the productive forces of social labour in the last 30 years 
+alone as compared with all preceding periods; if we consider, in particular, the enormous mass of fixed 
+capital, aside from the actual machinery, which goes into the process of social production as a whole, 
+then the difficulty which has hitherto troubled the economist, namely to explain the falling rate of profit, 
+gives place to its opposite, namely to explain why this fall is not greater and more rapid. There must 'be 
+some counteracting influences at work, which cross and annul the effect of the general law, and which 
+give it merely the characteristic of a tendency, for which reason we have referred to the fall of the general 
+rate of profit as a tendency to fall. 
+
+The following are the most general counterbalancing forces: 
+
+I. INCREASING INTENSITY OF EXPLOITATION 
+
+The degree of exploitation of labour, the appropriation of surplus-labour and surplus-value, is raised 
+notably by lengthening the working-day and intensifying labour. These two points have been 
+comprehensively treated in Book I as incidental to the production of absolute and relative surplus-value. 
+There are many ways of intensifying labour which imply an increase of constant, as compared to 
+variable, capital, and hence a fall in the rate of profit, such as compelling a labourer to operate a larger 
+number of machines. In such cases — and in most procedures serving the production of relative 
+surplus-values — the same causes which increase the rate of surplus-value, may also, from the standpoint 
+of given quantities of invested total capital, involve a fall in the mass of surplus-value. But there are other 
+aspects of intensification, such as the greater velocities of machinery, which consume more raw material 
+in the same time, but, so far as the fixed capital is concerned, wear out the machinery so much faster, and 
+yet do not in any way affect the relation of its value to the price of the labour which sets it in motion. But 
+notably, it is prolongation of the working-day, this invention of modern industry, which increases the 
+mass of appropriated surplus-labour without essentially altering the proportion of the employed 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 14 
+
+labour-power to the constant capital set in motion by it, and which rather tends to reduce this capital 
+relatively. Moreover, it has already been demonstrated — and this constitutes the real secret of the 
+tendency of the rate of profit to fall — that the manipulations to produce relative surplus-value amount, 
+on the whole, to transforming as much as possible of a certain quantity of labour into surplus-value, on 
+the one hand, and employing as little labour as possible in proportion to the invested capital, on the other, 
+so that the same reasons which permit raising the intensity of exploitation rule out exploiting the same 
+quantity of labour as before by the same capital. These are the counteracting tendencies, which, while 
+effecting a rise in the rate of surplus-value, also tend to decrease the mass of surplus-value, and hence the 
+rate of profit produced by a certain capital. Mention should also be made here of the widespread 
+introduction of female and child labour, in so far as the whole family must now perform more 
+surplus-labour for capital than before, even when the total amount of their wages increases, which is by 
+no means always the case. — Everything that promotes the production of relative surplus-value by mere 
+improvement in methods, as in agriculture, without altering the magnitude of the invested capital, has the 
+same effect. The constant capital, it is true, does not, in such cases, increase in relation to the variable, 
+inasmuch as we regard the variable capital as an index of the amount of labour-power employed, but the 
+mass of the product does increase in proportion to the labour-power employed. The same occurs, if the 
+productiveness of labour (no matter, whether its product goes into the labourer's consumption or into the 
+elements of constant capital) is freed from hindrances in communications, from arbitrary or other 
+restrictions which have become obstacles in the course of time; from fetters of all kinds, without directly 
+affecting the ratio of variable to constant capital. 
+
+It might be asked whether the factors that check the fall of the rate of profit, but that always hasten its fall 
+in the last analysis, whether these include the temporary, but always recurring, elevations in 
+surplus-value above the general level, which keep occurring now in this and now in that line of 
+production redounding to the benefit of those individual capitalists, who make use of inventions, etc., 
+before these are introduced elsewhere. This question must be answered in the affirmative. 
+
+The mass of surplus-value produced by a capital of a given magnitude is the product of two factors-the 
+rate of surplus-value multiplied by the number of labourers employed at this rate. At a given rate of 
+surplus-value it therefore depends on the number of labourers, and it depends on the rate of surplus-value 
+when the number of labourers is given. Generally, therefore, it depends on the composite ratio of the 
+absolute magnitudes of the variable capital and the rate of surplus-value. Now we have seen that, on the 
+average, the same factors which raise the rate of relative surplus-value lower the mass of the employed 
+labour-power. It is evident, however, that this will occur to a greater or lesser extent, depending on the 
+definite proportion in which this conflicting movement obtains, and that the tendency towards a 
+reduction in the rate of profit is notably weakened by a rise in the rate of absolute surplus-value, which 
+originates with the lengthening of the working-day. 
+
+We saw in the case of the rate of profit that a drop in the rate was generally accompanied by an increase 
+in the mass of profit, due to the increasing mass of total capital employed. From the standpoint of the 
+total variable capital of society, the surplus-value it has produced is equal to the profit it has produced. 
+Both the absolute mass and the rate of surplus-value have increased; the one because the quantity of 
+labour-power employed by society has grown, and the other, because the intensity of exploitation of this 
+labour-power has increased. But in the case of a capital of a given magnitude, e.g., 100, the rate of 
+surplus-value may increase, while the average mass may decrease; for the rate is determined by the 
+proportion, in which the variable capital produces value, while the mass is determined by the proportion 
+of variable capital to the total capital. 
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+
+The rise in the rate of surplus-value is a factor which determines the mass of surplus-value, and hence 
+also the rate of profit, for it takes place especially under conditions, in which, as we have previously 
+seen, the constant capital is either not increased at all, or not proportionately increased, in relation to the 
+variable capital. This factor does not abolish the general law. But it causes that law to act rather as a 
+tendency, i.e., as a law whose absolute action is checked, retarded, and weakened, by counteracting 
+circumstances. But since the same influences which raise the rate of surplus- value (even a lengthening of 
+the working-time is a result of large-scale industry) tend to decrease the labour-power employed by a 
+certain capital, it follows that they also tend to reduce the rate of profit and to retard this reduction. If one 
+labourer is compelled to perform as much labour as would rationally be performed by at least two, and if 
+this is done under circumstances in which this one labourer can replace three, then this one labourer will 
+perform as much surplus-labour as was formerly performed by two, and the rate of surplus-value will 
+have risen accordingly. But he will not perform as much as three had performed, and the mass of 
+surplus-value will have decreased accordingly. But this reduction in mass will be compensated, or 
+limited, by the rise in the rate of surplus-value. If the entire population is employed at a higher rate of 
+surplus-value, the mass of surplus-value will increase, in spite of the population remaining the same. It 
+will increase still more if the population increases. And although this is tied up with a relative reduction 
+of the number of employed labourers in proportion to the magnitude of the total capital, this reduction is 
+moderated, or checked, by the rise in the rate of surplus-value. 
+
+Before leaving this point, it is to be emphasised once more that with a capital of a given magnitude the 
+rate of surplus-value may rise, while its mass is decreasing, and vice versa. The mass of surplus-value is 
+equal to the rate multiplied by the number of labourers; however, the rate is never calculated on the total, 
+but only on the variable capital, actually only for every working-day. On the other hand, with a given 
+magnitude of capital- value, the rate of profit can neither rise nor fall without the mass of surplus-value 
+also rising or falling. 
+
+II. DEPRESSION OF WAGES BELOW THE VALUE OF LABOUR-POWER 
+
+This is mentioned here only empirically, since, like many other things which might be enumerated, it has 
+nothing to do with the general analysis of capital, but belongs in an analysis of competition, which is not 
+presented in this work. However, it is one of the most important factors checking the tendency of the rate 
+of profit to fall. 
+
+III. CHEAPENING OF ELEMENTS OF CONSTANT CAPITAL 
+
+Everything said in Part I of this book about factors which raise the rate of profit while the rate of 
+surplus-value remains the same, or regardless of the rate of surplus-value, belongs here. Hence also, with 
+respect to the total capital, that the value of the constant capital does not increase in the same proportion 
+as its material volume. For instance, the quantity of cotton worked up by a single European spinner in a 
+modern factory has grown, tremendously compared to the quantity formerly worked up by a European 
+spinner with a spinning-wheel. Yet the value of the worked-up cotton has not grown in the same 
+proportion as its mass. The same applies to machinery and other fixed capital. In short, the same 
+development which increases the mass of the constant capital in relation to the variable reduces the value 
+of its elements as a result of the increased productivity of labour, and therefore prevents the value of 
+constant capital, although it continually increases, from increasing at the same rate as its material 
+volume, i.e., the material volume of the means of production set in motion by the same amount of 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 14 
+
+labour-power. In isolated cases the mass of the elements of constant capital may even increase, while its 
+value remains the same, or falls. 
+
+The foregoing is bound up with the depreciation of existing capital (that is, of its material elements), 
+which occurs with the development of industry. This is another continually operating factor which 
+checks the fall of the rate of profit, although it may under certain circumstances encroach on the mass of 
+profit by reducing the mass of the capital yielding a profit. This again shows that the same influences 
+which tend to make the rate of profit fall, also moderate the effects of this tendency. 
+
+IV. RELATIVE OVER-POPULATION 
+
+Its propagation is inseparable from, and hastened by, the development of the productivity of labour as 
+expressed by a fall in the rate of profit. The relative over-population becomes so much more apparent in 
+a country, the more the capitalist mode of production is developed in it. This, again, is the reason why, on 
+the one hand, the more or less imperfect subordination of labour to capital continues in many branches of 
+production, and continues longer than seems at first glance compatible with the general stage of 
+development. This is due to the cheapness and abundance of disposable or unemployed wage-labourers, 
+and to the greater resistance, which some branches of production, by their very nature, render to the 
+transformation of manual work into machine production. On the other hand, new lines of production are 
+opened up, especially for the production of luxuries, and it is these that take as their basis this relative 
+over-population, often set free in other lines of production through the increase of their constant capital. 
+These new lines start out predominantly with living labour, and by degrees pass through the same 
+evolution as the other lines of production. In either case the variable capital makes up a considerable 
+portion of the total capital and wages are below the average, so that both the rate and mass of 
+surplus-value in these lines of production are unusually high. Since the general rate of profit is formed by 
+levelling the rates of profit in the individual branches of production, however, the same factor which 
+brings about the tendency in the rate of profit to fall, again produces a counterbalance to this tendency 
+and more or less paralyses its effects. 
+
+V. FOREIGN TRADE 
+
+Since foreign trade partly cheapens the elements of constant capital, and partly the necessities of life for 
+which the variable capital is exchanged, it tends to raise the rate of profit by increasing the rate of 
+surplus-value and lowering the value of constant capital. It generally acts in this direction by permitting 
+an expansion of the scale of production. It thereby hastens the process of accumulation, on the one hand, 
+but causes the variable capital to shrink in relation to the constant capital, on the other, and thus hastens a 
+fall in the rate of profit. In the same way, the expansion of foreign trade, although the basis of the 
+capitalist mode of production in its infancy, has become its own product, however, with the further 
+progress of the capitalist mode of production, through the innate necessity of this mode of production, its 
+need for an ever-expanding market. Here we see once more the dual nature of this effect. (Ricardo has 
+entirely overlooked this side of foreign trade. [D. Ricardo, On the Principles of Political Economy, and 
+Taxation, Third edition, London, 1824, Ch. VII. — Ed.]) 
+
+Another question — really beyond the scope of our analysis because of its special nature — is this: Is the 
+general rate of profit raised by the higher rate of profit produced by capital invested in foreign, and 
+particularly colonial, trade? 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 14 
+
+Capitals invested in foreign trade can yield a higher rate of profit, because, in the first place, there is 
+competition with commodities produced in other countries with inferior production facilities, so that the 
+more advanced country sells its goods above their value even though cheaper than the competing 
+countries. In so far as the labour of the more advanced country is here realised as labour of a higher 
+specific weight, the rate of profit rises, because labour which has not been paid as being of a higher 
+quality is sold as such. The same may obtain in relation to the country, to which commodities are 
+exported and to that from which commodities are imported; namely, the latter may offer more 
+materialised labour in kind than it receives, and yet thereby receive commodities cheaper than it could 
+produce them. Just as a manufacturer who employs a new invention before it becomes generally used, 
+undersells his competitors and yet sells his commodity above its individual value, that is, realises the 
+specifically higher productiveness of the labour he employs as surplus-labour. He thus secures a 
+surplus-profit. As concerns capitals invested in colonies, etc., on the other hand, they may yield higher 
+rates of profit for the simple reason that the rate of profit is higher there due to backward development, 
+and likewise the exploitation of labour, because of the use of slaves, coolies, etc. Why should not these 
+higher rates of profit, realised by capitals invested in certain lines and sent home by them, enter into the 
+equalisation of the general rate of profit and thus tend, pro tanto, to raise it, unless it is the monopolies 
+that stand in the way. £1} There is so much less reason for it, since these spheres of investment of capital 
+are subject to the laws of free competition. What Ricardo fancies is mainly this: with the higher prices 
+realised abroad commodities are bought there in return and sent home. These commodities are thus sold 
+on the home market, which fact can at best be but a temporary extra disadvantage of these favoured 
+spheres of production over others. This illusion falls away as soon as it is divested of its money-form. 
+The favoured country recovers more labour in exchange for less labour, although this difference, this 
+excess is pocketed, as in any exchange between labour and capital, by a certain class. Since the rate of 
+profit is higher, therefore, because it is generally higher in a colonial country, it may, provided natural 
+conditions are favourable, go hand in hand with low commodity-prices. A levelling takes place but not a 
+levelling to the old level, as Ricardo feels. 
+
+This same foreign trade develops the capitalist mode of production in the home country, which implies 
+the decrease of variable capital in relation to constant, and, on the other hand, causes over-production in 
+respect to foreign markets, so that in the long run it again has an opposite effect. 
+
+We have thus seen in a general way that the same influences which produce a tendency in the general 
+rate of profit to fall, also call forth counter-effects, which hamper, retard, and partly paralyse this fall. 
+The latter do not do away with the law, but impair its effect. Otherwise, it would not be the fall of the 
+general rate of profit, but rather its relative slowness, that would be incomprehensible. Thus, the law acts 
+only as a tendency. And it is only under certain circumstances and only after long periods that its effects 
+become strikingly pronounced. 
+
+Before we go on, in order to avoid misunderstandings, we should recall two, repeatedly treated, points. 
+
+First : The same process which brings about a cheapening of commodities in the course of the 
+development of the capitalist mode of production, causes a change in the organic composition of the 
+social capital invested in the production of commodities, and consequently lowers the rate of profit. We 
+must be careful, therefore, not to identify the reduction in the relative cost of an individual commodity, 
+including that portion of it which represents wear and tear of machinery, with the rise in the value of the 
+constant in relation to variable capital, although, conversely, every reduction in the relative cost of the 
+constant capital assuming the volume of its material elements remains the same, or increases, tends to 
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+
+raise the rate of profit, i.e., to reduce pro tanto the value of the constant capital in relation to the 
+shrinking proportions of the employed variable capital. 
+
+Second: The fact that the newly added living labour contained in the individual commodities, which 
+taken together make up the product of capital, decreases in relation to the materials they contain and the 
+means of labour consumed by them; the fact, therefore, that an ever-decreasing quantity of additional 
+living labour is materialised in them, because their production requires less labour with the development 
+of the social productiveness — this fact does not affect the ratio, in which the living labour contained in 
+the commodities breaks up into paid and unpaid labour. Quite the contrary. Although the total quantity of 
+additional living labour contained in the commodities decreases, the unpaid portion increases in relation 
+to the paid portion, either by an absolute or a relative shrinking of the paid portion; for the same mode of 
+production which reduces the total quantity of additional living labour in a commodity is accompanied 
+by a rise in the absolute and relative surplus-value. The tendency of the rate of profit to fall is bound up 
+with a tendency of the rate of surplus-value to rise, hence with a tendency for the rate of labour 
+exploitation to rise. Nothing is more absurd, for this reason, than to explain the fall in the rate of profit by 
+a rise in the rate of wages, although this may be the case by way of an exception. Statistics is not able to 
+make actual analyses of the rates of wages in different epochs and countries, until the conditions which 
+shape the rate of profit are thoroughly understood. The rate of profit does not fall because labour 
+becomes less productive, but because it becomes more productive. Both the rise in the rate of 
+surplus-value and the fall in the rate of profit are but specific forms through which growing productivity 
+of labour is expressed under capitalism. 
+
+VI. THE INCREASE OF STOCK CAPITAL 
+
+The foregoing five points may still be supplemented by the following, which, however, cannot be more 
+fully treated for the present. With the progress of capitalist production, which goes hand in hand with 
+accelerated accumulation, a portion of capital is calculated and applied only as interest-bearing capital. 
+Not in the sense in which every capitalist who lends out capital is satisfied with interest, while the 
+industrial capitalist pockets the investor's profit. This has no bearing on the level of the general rate of 
+profit, because for the latter profit = interest+profit of all kinds+ground-rent, the division into these 
+particular categories being immaterial to it. But in the sense that these capitals, although invested in large 
+productive enterprises, yield only large or small amounts of interest, so-called dividends, after all costs 
+have been deducted. In railways, for instance. These do not therefore go into levelling the general rate of 
+profit, because they yield a lower than average rate of profit. If they did enter into it, the general rate of 
+profit would fall much lower. Theoretically, they may be included in the calculation, and the result would 
+then be a lower rate of profit than the seemingly existing rate, which is decisive for the capitalists; it 
+would be lower, because the constant capital particularly in these enterprises is largest in its relation to 
+the variable capital. 
+
+FOOTNOTES 
+
+T 1 1 Adam Smith was right in this respect, contrary to Ricardo, who said: "They contend that the equality 
+of profits will be brought about by the general rise of profits; and I am of the opinion that the profits of 
+the favoured trade will speedily submit to the general level." {Work:, ed. by MacCulloch, p. 73.) 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 14 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 15 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 15 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Part III 
+
+THE LAW OF THE TENDENCY 
+
+OF THE RATE OF PROFIT TO FALL 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV 
+
+EXPOSITION OF THE INTERNAL 
+CONTRADICTIONS OF THE LAW 
+
+
+
+I. GENERAL 
+
+We have seen in the first part of this book that the rate of profit expresses the rate of surplus-value 
+always lower than it actually is. We have just seen that even a rising rate of surplus-value has a tendency 
+to express itself in a falling rate of profit. The rate of profit would equal the rate of surplus-value only if c 
+= 0, i.e. , if the total capital were paid out in wages. A falling rate of profit does not express a falling rate 
+of surplus-value, unless the proportion of the value of the constant capital to the quantity of labour-power 
+which sets it in motion remains unchanged or the amount of labour-power increases in relation to the 
+value of the constant capital. 
+
+On the plea of analysing the rate of profit, Ricardo actually analyses the rate of surplus-value alone, and 
+this only on the assumption that the working-day is intensively and extensively a constant magnitude. 
+
+A fall in the rate of profit and accelerated accumulation are different expressions of the same process 
+only in so far as both reflect the development of productiveness. Accumulation, in turn, hastens the fall 
+of the rate of profit, inasmuch as it implies concentration of labour on a large scale, and thus a higher 
+composition of capital. On the other band, a fall in the rate of profit again hastens the concentration of 
+capital and its centralisation through expropriation of minor capitalists, the few direct producers who still 
+have anything left to be expropriated. This accelerates accumulation with regard to mass, although the 
+rate of accumulation falls with the rate of profit. 
+
+On the other hand, the rate of self-expansion of the total capital, or the rate of profit, being the goad of 
+capitalist production (just as self-expansion of capital is its only purpose), its fall checks the formation of 
+new independent capitals and thus appears as a threat to the development of the capitalist production 
+process. It breeds over-production, speculation, crises, and surplus-capital alongside surplus-population. 
+
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+
+Those economists, therefore, who, like Ricardo, regard the capitalist mode of production as absolute, feel 
+at this point that it creates a barrier itself, and for this reason attribute the barrier to Nature (in the theory 
+of rent), not to production. But the main thing about their horror of the falling rate of profit is the feeling 
+that capitalist production meets in the development of its productive forces a barrier which has nothing to 
+do with the production of wealth as such; and this peculiar barrier testifies to the limitations and to the 
+merely historical, transitory character of the capitalist mode of production; testifies that for the 
+production of wealth, it is not an absolute mode, moreover, that at a certain stage it rather conflicts with 
+its further development. 
+
+True, Ricardo and his school considered only industrial profit, which includes interest. But the rate of 
+ground-rent likewise has a tendency to fall, although its absolute mass increases, and may also increase 
+proportionately more than industrial profit. (E. West, [Essay on the Application of Capital to Land, 
+London, 1815. — Ed] who developed the law of ground-rent before Ricardo.) If we consider the total 
+social capital C, and use pi for the industrial profit that remains after deducting interest and ground-rent, 
+i for interest, and r for ground-rent, then s/C = p/C = pi + i + r/C = pl/C + i/C+r/. We have seen that 
+while s, the total amount of surplus-value, is continually increasing in the course of capitalist 
+development, s/C is just as steadily declining, because C grows still more rapidly than s. Therefore it is 
+by no means a contradiction for pi, i, and r to be steadily increasing, each individually, while s/C = p/C, 
+as well as pl/C, i/C, and r/C, should each by itself be steadily shrinking, or that pi should increase in 
+relation to i, or r in relation to pi or to pi and i. With a rising total surplus-value or profit s = p, and a 
+simultaneously falling rate of profit s/C = p/C, the proportions of the parts pi, i, and r, which make up s = 
+p, may change at will within the limits set by the total amount of s without thereby affecting the 
+magnitude of s or s/C. 
+
+The mutual variation of pi, i, and r is merely a varying distribution of s among different classes. 
+Consequently, pl/C, i/C, or r/C, the rate of individual industrial profit, the rate of interest, and the ratio of 
+ground-rent to the total capital, may rise in relation to one another, while s/C, the general rate of profit, 
+falls. The only condition is that the sum of all three = s/C. If the rate of profit falls from 50% to 25%, 
+because the composition of a certain capital with, say, a rate of surplus- value = 100% has changed from 
+50c+ 50v to 75c+25v, then a capital of 1,000 will yield a profit of 500 in the first case, and in the second 
+a Capital of 4,000 will yield a profit of 1,000. We see that s or p have doubled, while p' has fallen by 
+one-half. And if that 50% was formerly divided into 20 profit, 10 interest, and 20 rent, then pl/C = 20%, 
+i/C = 10%, and r/C = 20%. If the proportions had remained the same after the change from 50% to 25%, 
+then pl/C = 10%, i/C = 5%, and r/C = 10%. If, however, pl/C should fall to 8% and i/C to 4%, then r/C 
+would rise to 13%. The relative magnitude of r would have risen as against pi and i, while p would have 
+remained the same. Under both assumptions, the sum of pi, i, and r would have increased, because 
+produced by a capital four times as large. Furthermore, Ricardo's assumption that originally industrial 
+profit (plus interest) contains the entire surplus-value is historically and logically false. It is rather the 
+progress of capitalist production which 1) gives the whole profit directly to the industrial and commercial 
+capitalists for further distribution, and 2) reduces rent to the excess over the profit. On this capitalist 
+basis, again, the rent grows, being a portion of profit (i.e. , of the surplus-value viewed as the product of 
+the total capital), but not that specific portion of the product, which the capitalist pockets. 
+
+Given the necessary means of production, i.e. , a sufficient accumulation of capital, the creation of 
+surplus-value is only limited by the labouring population if the rate of surplus-value, i.e. , the intensity of 
+exploitation, is given; and no other limit but the intensity of exploitation if the labouring population is 
+given. And the capitalist process of production consists essentially of the production of surplus-value, 
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+
+represented in the surplus-product or that aliquot portion of the produced commodities materialising 
+unpaid labour. It must never be forgotten that the production of this surplus-value — and the 
+reconversion of a portion of it into capital, or the accumulation, forms an integrate part of this production 
+of surplus-value — is the immediate purpose and compelling motive of capitalist production. It will 
+never do, therefore, to represent capitalist production as something which it is not, namely as production 
+whose immediate purpose is enjoyment or the manufacture of the means of enjoyment for the capitalist. 
+This would be overlooking its specific character, which is revealed in all its inner essence. 
+
+The creation of this surplus-value makes up the direct process of production, which, as we have said, has 
+no other limits but those mentioned above. As soon as all the surplus-labour it was possible to squeeze 
+out has been embodied in commodities, surplus-value has been produced. But this production of 
+surplus-value completes but the first act of the capitalist process of production — the direct production 
+process. Capital has absorbed so and so much unpaid labour. With the development of the process, which 
+expresses itself in a drop in the rate of profit, the mass of surplus-value thus produced swells to immense 
+dimensions. Now comes the second act of the process. The entire mass of commodities, i.e. , the total 
+product, including the portion which replaces the constant and variable capital, and that representing 
+surplus-value, must be sold. If this is not done, or done only in part, or only at prices below the prices of 
+production, the labourer has been indeed exploited, but his exploitation is not realised as such for the 
+capitalist, and this can be bound up with a total or partial failure to realise the surplus-value pressed out 
+of him, indeed even with the partial or total loss of the capital. The conditions of direct exploitation, and 
+those of realising it, are not identical. They diverge not only in place and time, but also logically. The 
+first are only limited by the productive power of society, the latter by the proportional relation of the 
+various branches of production and the consumer power of society. But this last-named is not determined 
+either by the absolute productive power, or by the absolute consumer power, but by the consumer power 
+based on antagonistic conditions of distribution, which reduce the consumption of the bulk of society to a 
+minimum varying within more or less narrow limits. It is furthermore restricted by the tendency to 
+accumulate, the drive to expand capital and produce surplus-value on an extended scale. This is law for 
+capitalist production, imposed by incessant revolutions in the methods of production themselves, by the 
+depreciation of existing capital always bound up with them, by the general competitive struggle and the 
+need to improve production and expand its scale merely as a means of self-preservation and under 
+penalty of ruin. The market must, therefore, be continually extended, so that its interrelations and the 
+conditions regulating them assume more and more the form of a natural law working independently of 
+the producer, and become ever more uncontrollable. This internal contradiction seeks to resolve itself 
+through expansion of the outlying field of production. But the more productiveness develops, the more it 
+finds itself at variance with the narrow basis on which the conditions of consumption rest. It is no 
+contradiction at all on this self-contradictory basis that there should be an excess of capital 
+simultaneously with a growing surplus of population. For while a combination of these two would, 
+indeed, increase the mass of produced surplus-value, it would at the same time intensify the contradiction 
+between the conditions under which this surplus-value is produced and those under which it is realised. 
+
+If a certain rate of profit is given, the mass of profit will always depend on the magnitude of the 
+advanced capital. The accumulation, however, is then determined by that portion of this mass which is 
+reconverted into capital. As for this portion, being equal to the profit minus the revenue consumed by the 
+capitalists, it will depend not merely on the value of this mass, but also on the cheapness of the 
+commodities which the capitalist can buy with it, commodities which pass partly into his consumption, 
+his revenue, and partly into his constant capital. (Wages are here assumed to be given.) 
+
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+
+The mass of capital set in motion by the labourer, whose value he preserves by his labour and reproduces 
+in his product, is quite different from the value which he adds to it. If the mass of the capital = 1,000 and 
+the added labour = 100, the reproduced capital = 1,100. If the mass = 100 and the added labour = 20, the 
+reproduced capital = 120. In the first case the rate of profit = 10%, in the second = 20%. And yet more 
+can be accumulated out of 100 than out of 20. And thus the river of capital rolls on (aside from its 
+depreciation through increase of the productiveness), or its accumulation does, not in proportion to the 
+rate of profit, but in proportion to the impetus it already possesses. So far as it is based on a high rate of 
+surplus-value, a high rate of profit is possible when the working-day is very long, although labour is not 
+highly productive. It is possible, because the wants of the labourers are very small, hence average wages 
+very low, although the labour itself is unproductive. The low wages will correspond to the labourers' lack 
+of energy. Capital then accumulates slowly, in spite of the high rate of profit. Population is stagnant and 
+the working-time which the product costs, is great, while the wages paid to the labourer are small. 
+
+The rate of profit does not sink because the labourer is exploited any less, but because generally less 
+labour is employed in proportion to the employed capital. 
+
+If, as shown, a falling rate of profit is bound up with an increase in the mass of profit, a larger portion of 
+the annual product of labour is appropriated by the capitalist under the category of capital (as a 
+replacement for consumed capital) and a relatively smaller portion under the category of profit. Hence 
+the fantastic idea of priest Chalmers, [Th. Chalmers, On Political Economy in Connexion with the Moral 
+State and Moral Prospects of Society, Second edition, Glasgow, 1832, p. 88. — Ed] that the less of the 
+annual product is expended by capitalists as capital, the greater the profits they pocket.' In which case the 
+state church comes to their assistance, to care for the consumption of the greater part of the 
+surplus-product, rather than having it used as capital. The preacher confounds cause with effect. 
+Furthermore, the mass of profit increases in spite of its slower rate with the growth of the invested 
+capital. However, this requires a simultaneous concentration of capital, since the conditions of production 
+then demand employment of capital on a larger scale. It also requires its centralisation, i.e. , the 
+swallowing up of the small capitalists by the big and their deprivation of capital. It is again but an 
+instance of separating — raised to the second power — the conditions of production from the producers 
+to whose number these small capitalists still belong, since their own labour continues to play a role in 
+their case The labour of a capitalist stands altogether in inverse proportion to the size of his capital, i.e. , 
+to the degree in which he is a capitalist. It is this same severance of the conditions' of production; on the 
+one hand, from the producers, on the other, that forms the conception of capital. It begins with primitive 
+accumulation (Buch I, Kap. XXIV [English edition: Part VIII. — Ed.]), appears as a permanent process in 
+the accumulation and concentration of capital, and expresses itself finally as centralisation of existing 
+capitals in a few hands and a deprivation of many of their capital (to which expropriation is now 
+changed). This process would soon bring about the collapse of capitalist production if it were not for 
+counteracting tendencies, which have a continuous decentralising effect alongside the centripetal one. 
+
+II. CONFLICT BETWEEN EXPANSION OF PRODUCTION AND PRODUCTION OF 
+SURPLUS-VALUE 
+
+The development of the social productiveness of labour is manifested in two ways: first, in the magnitude 
+of the already produced productive forces, the value and mass of the conditions of production under 
+which new production is carried on, and in the absolute magnitude of the already accumulated productive 
+capital; secondly, in the relative smallness of the portion of total capital laid out in wages, i.e. , in the 
+relatively small quantity of living labour required for the reproduction and self-expansion of a given 
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+
+capital, for mass production. This also implies concentration of capital. 
+
+In relation to employed labour-power the development of the productivity again reveals itself in two 
+ways: First, in the increase of surplus-labour, i.e. , the reduction of the necessary labour-time required for 
+the reproduction of labour-power. Secondly, in the decrease of the quantity of labour-power (the number 
+of labourers) generally employed to set in motion a given capital. 
+
+The two movements not only go hand in hand, but mutually influence one another and are phenomena in 
+which the same law expresses itself. Yet they affect the rate of profit in opposite ways. The total mass of 
+profit is equal to the total mass of surplus-value, the rate of profit = s/C = surplus-value/advanced total 
+capital. The surplus-value, however, as a total, is determined first by its rate, and second by the mass of 
+labour simultaneously employed at this rate, or, what amounts to the same, by the magnitude of the 
+variable capital. One of these factors, the rate of surplus-value, rises, and the other, the number of 
+labourers, falls (relatively or absolutely). Inasmuch as the development of the productive forces reduces 
+the paid portion of employed labour, it raises the surplus-value, because it raises its rate; but inasmuch as 
+it reduces the total mass of labour employed, by a given capital, it reduces the factor of the number by 
+which the rate of surplus-value is multiplied to obtain its mass. Two labourers, each working 12 hours 
+daily, cannot produce the same mass of surplus-value as 24 who work only 2 hours, even if they could 
+live on air and hence did not have to work for themselves at all. In this respect, then, the compensation of 
+the reduced number of labourers by intensifying the degree of exploitation has certain insurmountable 
+limits. It may, for this reason, well check the fall in the rate of profit, but cannot prevent it altogether. 
+
+With the development of the capitalist mode of production, therefore, the rate of profit falls, while its 
+mass increases with the growing mass of the capital employed. Given the rate, the absolute increase in 
+the mass of capital depends on its existing magnitude. But, on the other hand, if this magnitude is given, 
+the proportion of its growth, i.e. , the rate of its increment, depends on the rate of profit. The increase in 
+the productiveness (which, moreover, we repeat, always goes hand in hand with a depreciation of the 
+available capital) can directly only increase the value of the existing capital if by raising the rate of profit 
+it increases that portion of the value of the annual product which is reconverted into capital. As concerns 
+the productivity of labour, this can only occur (since this productivity has nothing direct to do with the 
+value of the existing capital) by raising the relative surplus-value, or reducing the value of the constant 
+capital, so that the commodities which enter either the reproduction of labour-power, or the elements of 
+constant capital, are cheapened. Both imply a depreciation of the existing capital, and both go hand in 
+hand with a reduction of the variable capital in relation to the constant. Both cause a fall in the rate of 
+profit, and both slow it down. Furthermore, inasmuch as an increased rate of profit causes a greater 
+demand for labour, it tends to increase the working population and thus the material, whose exploitation 
+makes real capital out of capital. 
+
+Indirectly, however, the development of the productivity of labour contributes to the increase of the value 
+of the existing capital by increasing the mass and variety of use-values in which the same exchange-value 
+is represented and which form the material substance, i.e. , the material elements of capital, the material 
+objects making up the constant capital directly, and the variable capital at least indirectly. More products 
+which may be converted into capital, whatever their exchange-value, are created with the same capital 
+and the same labour. These products may serve to absorb additional labour, hence also additional 
+surplus-labour, and therefore create additional capital. The amount of labour which a capital can 
+command does not depend on its value, but on the mass of raw and auxiliary materials, machinery and 
+elements of fixed capital and necessities of life, all of which it comprises, whatever their value may be. 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 15 
+
+As the mass of the labour employed, and thus of surplus-labour increases, there is also a growth in the 
+value of the reproduced capital and in the surplus-value newly added to it. 
+
+These two elements embraced by the process of accumulation, however, are not to be regarded merely as 
+existing side by side in repose, as Ricardo does. They contain a contradiction which manifests itself in 
+contradictory tendencies and phenomena. These antagonistic agencies counteract each other 
+simultaneously. 
+
+Alongside the stimulants of an actual increase of the labouring population, which spring from the 
+increase of the portion of the total social product serving as capital, there are agencies which create a 
+merely relative over-population. 
+
+Alongside the fall in the rate of profit mass of capitals grows, and hand in hand with this there occurs a 
+depreciation of existing capitals which checks the fall and gives an accelerating motion to the 
+accumulation of capital- values. 
+
+Alongside the development of productivity there develops a higher composition of capital, i.e., the 
+relative decrease of the ratio of variable to constant capital. 
+
+These different influences may at one time operate predominantly side by side in space, and at another 
+succeed each other in time. From time to time the conflict of antagonistic agencies finds vent in crises. 
+The crises are always but momentary and forcible solutions of the existing contradictions. They are 
+violent eruptions which for a time restore the disturbed equilibrium. 
+
+The contradiction, to put it in a very general way, consists in that the capitalist mode of production 
+involves a tendency towards absolute development of the productive forces, regardless of the value and 
+surplus-value it contains, and regardless of the social conditions under which capitalist production takes 
+place; while, on the other hand, its aim is to preserve the value of the existing capital and promote its 
+self-expansion to the highest limit (i.e., to promote an ever more rapid growth of this value). The specific 
+feature about it is that it uses the existing value of capital as a means of increasing this value to the 
+utmost. The methods by which it accomplishes this include the fall of the rate of profit, depreciation of 
+existing capital, and development of the productive forces of labour at the expense of already created 
+productive forces. 
+
+The periodical depreciation of existing capital — one of the means immanent in capitalist production to 
+check the fall of the rate of profit and hasten accumulation of capital — value through formation of new 
+capital — disturbs the given conditions, within which the process of circulation and reproduction of 
+capital takes place, and is therefore accompanied by sudden stoppages and crises in the production 
+process. 
+
+The decrease of variable in relation to constant capital, which goes hand in hand with the development of 
+the productive forces, stimulates the growth of the labouring population, while continually creating an 
+artificial over-population. The accumulation of capital in terms of value is slowed down by the falling 
+rate of profit, to hasten still more the accumulation of use-values, while this, in its turn, adds new 
+momentum to accumulation in terms of value. 
+
+Capitalist production seeks continually to overcome these immanent barriers, but overcomes them only 
+by means which again place these barriers in its way and on a more formidable scale. 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 15 
+
+The real barrier of capitalist production is capital itself. It is that capital and its self-expansion appear as 
+the starting and the closing point, the motive and the purpose of production; that production is only 
+production for capital and not vice versa, the means of production are not mere means for a constant 
+expansion of the living process of the society of producers. The limits within which the preservation and 
+self-expansion of the value of capital resting on the expropriation and pauperisation of the great mass of 
+producers can alone move — these limits come continually into conflict with the methods of production 
+employed by, capital for its purposes, which drive towards unlimited extension of production, towards 
+production as an end in itself, towards unconditional development of the social productivity of labour. 
+The means — unconditional development of the productive forces of society — comes continually into 
+conflict with the limited purpose, the self-expansion of the existing capital. The capitalist mode of 
+production is, for this reason, a historical means of developing the material forces of production and 
+creating an appropriate world-market and is, at the same time, a continual conflict between this its 
+historical task and its own corresponding relations of social production. 
+
+III. EXCESS CAPITAL AND EXCESS POPULATION 
+
+A drop in the rate of profit is attended by a rise in the minimum capital required by an individual 
+capitalist for the productive employment of labour; required both for its exploitation generally, and for 
+making the consumed labour-time suffice as the labour-time necessary for the production of the 
+commodities, so that it does not exceed the average social labour-time required for the production of the 
+commodities. Concentration increases simultaneously, because beyond certain limits a large capital with 
+a small rate of profit accumulates faster than a small capital with a large rate of profit. At a certain high 
+point this increasing concentration in its turn causes a new fall in the rate of profit. The mass of small 
+dispersed capitals is thereby driven along the adventurous road of speculation, credit frauds, stock 
+swindles, and crises. The so-called plethora of capital always applies essentially to a plethora of the 
+capital for which the fall in the rate of profit is not compensated through the mass of profit — this is 
+always true of newly developing fresh offshoots of capital — or to a plethora which places capitals 
+incapable of action on their own at the disposal of the managers of large enterprises in the form of credit. 
+This plethora of capital arises from the same causes as those which call forth relative over-population, 
+and is, therefore, a phenomenon supplementing the latter, although they stand at opposite poles — 
+unemployed capital at one pole, and unemployed worker population at the other. 
+
+Over-production of capital, not of individual commodities — although over-production of capital always 
+includes over-production of commodities — is therefore simply over-accumulation of capital. To 
+appreciate what this over-accumulation is (its closer analysis follows later), one need only assume it to be 
+absolute When would over-production of capital be absolute? Overproduction which would affect not 
+just one or another, or a few important spheres of production, but would be absolute in its full scope, 
+hence would extend to all fields of production? 
+
+There would be absolute over-production of capital as soon as additional capital for purposes of capitalist 
+production = 0. The purpose of capitalist production, however, is self-expansion of capital, i.e., 
+appropriation of surplus-labour, production of surplus-value, of profit. As soon as capital would, 
+therefore, have grown in such a ratio to the labouring population that neither the absolute working-time 
+supplied by this population, nor the relative surplus working-time, could be expanded any further (this 
+last would not be feasible at any rate in the case when the demand for labour were so strong that there 
+were a tendency for wages to rise); at a point, therefore, when the increased capital produced just as 
+much, or even less, surplus-value than it did before its increase, there would be absolute over-production 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 15 
+
+of capital; i.e., the increased capital C+DC would produce no more, or even less, profit than capital C 
+before its expansion by DC. In both cases there would be a steep and sudden fall in the general rate of 
+profit, but this time due to a change in the composition of capital not caused by the development of the 
+productive forces, but rather by a rise in the money-value of the variable capital (because of increased 
+wages) and the corresponding reduction in the proportion of surplus-labour to necessary labour. 
+
+In reality, it would appear that a portion of the capital would lie completely or partially idle (because it 
+would have to crowd out some of the active capital before it could expand its own value), and the other 
+portion would produce values at a lower rate of profit, owing to the pressure of unemployed or but partly 
+employed capital. It would be immaterial in this respect if a part of the additional capital were to take the 
+place of the old capital, and the latter were to take its position in the additional capital. We should still 
+always have the old sum of capital on one side, and the sum of additional capital on the other. The fall in 
+the rate of profit would then be accompanied by an absolute decrease in the mass of profit, since the mass 
+of employed labour-power could not be increased and the rate of surplus-value raised under the 
+conditions we had assumed, so that the mass of surplus-value could not be increased either. And the 
+reduced mass of profit would have to be calculated on an increased total capital. But even if it is assumed 
+that the employed capital continues to self-expand at the old rate of profit, and the mass of profit hence 
+remains the same, this mass would still he calculated on an increased total capital, this likewise implying 
+a fall in the rate of profit. If a total capital of 1,000 yielded a profit of 100, and after being increased to 
+1,500 still yielded 100, then, in the second case, 1,000 would yield only 662/3. Self-expansion of the old 
+capital, in the absolute sense, would have been reduced. The capital = 1,000 would yield no more under 
+the new circumstances than formerly a capital - 6662/3. 
+
+It is evident, however, that this actual depreciation of the old capital could not occur without a struggle, 
+and that the additional capital DC could not assume the functions of capital without a struggle. The rate 
+of profit would not fall under the effect of competition due to over-production of capital. It would rather 
+be the reverse; it would be the competitive struggle which would begin because the fallen rate of profit 
+and over-production of capital originate from the same conditions. The part of DC in the hands of old 
+functioning capitalists would be allowed to remain more or less idle to prevent a depreciation of their 
+own original capital and not to narrow its place in the field of production. Or they would employ it, even 
+at a momentary loss, to shift the need of keeping additional capital idle on newcomers and on their 
+competitors in general. 
+
+That portion of DC which is in new hands would seek to assume a place for itself at the expense of the 
+old capital, and would accomplish this in part by forcing a portion of the old capital to lie idle. It would 
+compel the old capital to give up its old place and withdraw to join completely or partially unemployed 
+additional capital. 
+
+A portion of the old capital has to lie unused under all circumstances; it has to give up its characteristic 
+quality as capital, so far as acting as such and producing value is concerned. The competitive struggle 
+would decide what part of it would be particularly affected. So long as things go well, competition 
+effects an operating fraternity of the capitalist class, as we have seen in the case of the equalisation of the 
+general rate of profit, so that each shares in the common loot in proportion to the size of his respective 
+investment. But as soon as it no longer is a question of sharing profits, but of sharing losses, everyone 
+tries to reduce his own share to a minimum and to shove it off upon another. The class, as such, must 
+inevitably lose. How much the individual capitalist must bear of the loss, i.e., to what extent he must 
+share in it at all, is decided by strength and cunning, and competition then becomes a fight among hostile 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 15 
+
+brothers. The antagonism between each individual capitalist's interests and those of the capitalist class as 
+a whole, then comes to the surface, just as previously the identity of these interests operated in practice 
+through competition. 
+
+How is this conflict settled and the conditions restored which correspond to the "sound" operation of 
+capitalist production? The mode of settlement is already indicated in the very emergence of the conflict 
+whose settlement is under discussion. It implies the withdrawal and even the partial destruction of capital 
+amounting to the full value of additional capital AC, or at least a part of it. Although, as the description 
+of this conflict shows, the loss is by no means equally distributed among individual capitals, its 
+distribution being rather decided through a competitive struggle in which the loss is distributed in very 
+different proportions and forms, depending on special advantages or previously captured positions, so 
+that one capital is left unused, another is destroyed, and a third suffers but a relative loss, or is just 
+temporarily depreciated, etc. 
+
+But the equilibrium would be restored under all circumstances through the withdrawal or even the 
+destruction of more or less capital. This would extend partly to the material substance of capital, i.e., a 
+part of the means of production, of fixed and circulating capital, would not operate, not act as capital; 
+some of the operating establishments would then be brought to a standstill. Although, in this respect, 
+time attacks and worsens all means of production (except land), the stoppage would in reality cause far 
+greater damage to the means of production. However, the main effect in this case would be that these 
+means of production would cease to function as such, that their function as means of production would 
+be disturbed for a shorter or longer period. 
+
+The main damage, and that of the most acute nature, would occur in respect to capital, and in so far as the 
+latter possesses the characteristic of value it would occur in respect to the values of capitals. That portion 
+of the value of a capital which exists only in the form of claims on prospective shares of surplus-value, 
+i.e., profit, in fact in the form of promissory notes on production in various forms, is immediately 
+depreciated by the reduction of the receipts on which it is calculated. A part of the gold and silver lies 
+unused, i.e., does not function as capital. Part of the commodities on the market can complete their 
+process of circulation and reproduction only through an immense contraction of their prices, hence 
+through a depreciation of the capital which they represent. The elements of fixed capital are depreciated 
+to a greater or lesser degree in just the same way. It must be added that definite, presupposed, price 
+relations govern the process of reproduction, so that the latter is halted and thrown into confusion by a 
+general drop in prices. This confusion and stagnation paralyses the function of money as a medium of 
+payment, whose development is geared to the development of capital and is based on those presupposed 
+price relations. The chain of payment obligations due at specific dates is broken in a hundred places. The 
+confusion is augmented by the attendant collapse of the credit system, which develops simultaneously 
+with capital, and leads to violent and acute crises, to sudden and forcible depreciations, to the actual 
+stagnation and disruption of the process of reproduction, and thus to a real falling off in reproduction. 
+
+But there would have been still other agencies at work at the same time. The stagnation of production 
+would have laid off a part of the working-class and would thereby have placed the employed part in a 
+situation, where it would have to submit to a reduction of wages even below the average. This has the 
+very same effect on capital as an increase of the relative or absolute surplus-value at average wages 
+would have had. Prosperity would have led to more marriages among labourers and reduced the 
+decimation of offspring. While implying a real increase in population, this does not signify an increase in 
+the actual working population. But it affects the relations of the labourer to capital in the same way as an 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 15 
+
+increase of the number of actually working labourers would have affected them. On the other hand, the 
+fall in prices and the competitive struggle would have driven every capitalist to lower the individual 
+value of his total product below its general value by means of new machines, new and improved working 
+methods, new combinations, i.e., to increase the productivity of a given quantity of labour, to lower the 
+proportion of variable to constant capital, and thereby to release some labourers; in short, to create an 
+artificial over-population. Ultimately, the depreciation of the elements of constant capital would itself 
+tend to raise the rate of profit. The mass of employed constant capital would 'have increased in relation to 
+variable, but its value could have fallen. The ensuing stagnation of production would have prepared — 
+within capitalistic limits — a subsequent expansion of production. 
+
+And thus the cycle would run its course anew. Part of the capital, depreciated by its functional stagnation, 
+would recover its old value. For the rest, the same vicious circle would be described once more under 
+expanded conditions of production, with an expanded market and increased productive forces. 
+
+However, even under the extreme conditions assumed by us this absolute over-production of capital is 
+not absolute overproduction, not absolute over-production of means of production. It is over-production 
+of means of production only in so far as the latter serve as capital, and consequently include a 
+self-expansion of value, must produce an additional value in proportion to the increased mass. 
+
+Yet it would still be over-production, because capital would be unable to exploit labour to the degree 
+required by a "sound", "normal" development of the process of capitalist production, to a degree which 
+would at least increase the mass of profit along with the growing mass of the employed capital; to a 
+degree which would, therefore, prevent the rate of profit from falling as much as the, capital grows, or 
+even more rapidly. 
+
+Over-production of capital is never anything more than overproduction of means of production — of 
+means of labour and necessities of life — which may serve as capital, i.e., may serve to exploit labour at 
+a given degree of exploitation; a fall in the intensity of exploitation below a certain point, however, calls 
+forth disturbances, and stoppages in the capitalist production process, crises, and destruction of capital. It 
+is no contradiction that this over-production of capital is accompanied by more or less considerable 
+relative over-population. The circumstances which increased the productiveness of labour, augmented 
+the mass of produced commodities, expanded markets, accelerated accumulation of capital both in terms 
+of its mass and its value, and lowered the rate of profit — these same circumstances have also created, 
+and continuously create, a relative overpopulation, an over-population of labourers not employed by the 
+surplus-capital owing to the low degree of exploitation at which alone they could be employed, or at least 
+owing to the low rate of profit which they would yield at the given degree of exploitation. 
+
+If capital is sent abroad, this is not done because it absolutely could not be applied at home, but because 
+it can be employed at a higher rate of profit in a foreign country. But such capital is absolute excess 
+capital for the. employed labouring population and for the home country in general. It exists as such 
+alongside the relative over-population, and this is an illustration of how both of them exist side by side, 
+and mutually influence one another. 
+
+On the other hand, a fall in the rate of profit connected with accumulation necessarily calls forth a 
+competitive struggle. Compensation of a fall in the rate of profit by a rise in the mass of profit applies 
+only to the total social capital and to the big, firmly placed capitalists. The new additional capital 
+operating independently does not enjoy any such compensating conditions. It must still win them, and so 
+it is that a fall in the rate of profit calls forth a competitive struggle among capitalists, not vice versa. To 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 15 
+
+be sure, the competitive struggle is accompanied by a temporary rise in wages and a resultant further 
+temporary fall of the rate of profit. The same occurs when there is an over-production of commodities, 
+when markets are overstocked. Since the aim of capital is not to minister to certain wants, but to produce 
+profit, and since it accomplishes this purpose by methods which adapt the mass of production to the scale 
+of production, not vice versa, a rift must continually ensue between the limited dimensions of 
+consumption under capitalism and a production which forever tends to exceed this immanent barrier. 
+Furthermore, capital consists of commodities, and therefore over-production of capital implies 
+over-production of commodities. Hence the peculiar phenomenon of economists who deny 
+over-production of commodities, admitting over-production of capital. To say that there is no general 
+over-production, but rather a disproportion within the various branches of production, is no more than to 
+say that under capitalist production the proportionality of the individual branches of production springs 
+as a continual process from disproportionality, because the cohesion of the aggregate production imposes 
+itself as a blind law upon the agents of production, and not as a law which, being understood and hence 
+controlled by their common mind, brings the productive process under their joint control. It amounts 
+furthermore to demanding that countries in which capitalist production is not developed, should consume 
+and produce at a rate which suits the countries with capitalist production. If it is said that over-production 
+is only relative, this is quite correct; but the entire capitalist mode of production is only a relative one, 
+whose barriers are not absolute. They are absolute only for this mode, i.e., on its basis. How could there 
+otherwise be a shortage of demand for the very commodities which the mass of the people lack, and how 
+would it be possible for this demand to be sought abroad, in foreign markets, to pay the labourers at 
+home the average amount of necessities of life? This is possible only because in this specific capitalist 
+interrelation the surplus-product assumes a form in which its owner cannot offer it for consumption, 
+unless it first reconverts itself into capital for him. If it is finally said that the capitalists have only to 
+exchange and consume their commodities among themselves, then the entire nature of the capitalist 
+mode of production is lost sight of; and also forgotten is the fact that it is a matter of expanding the value 
+of the capital, not consuming it. In short, all these objections to the obvious phenomena of 
+over-production (phenomena which pay no heed to these objections) amount to the contention that the 
+barriers of capitalist production are not barriers of production generally, and therefore not barriers of this 
+specific, capitalist mode of production. The contradiction of the capitalist mode of production, however, 
+lies precisely in its tendency towards an absolute development of the productive forces, which 
+continually come into conflict with the specific conditions of production in which capital moves, and 
+alone can move. 
+
+There are not too many necessities of life produced, in proportion to the existing population. Quite the 
+reverse. Too little is produced to decently and humanely satisfy the wants of the great mass. 
+
+There are not too many means of production produced to employ the able-bodied portion of the 
+population. Quite the reverse. In the first place, too large a portion of the produced population is not 
+really capable of working, and is through force of circumstances made dependent on exploiting the 
+labour of others, or on labour which can pass under this name only under a miserable mode of 
+production. In the second place, not enough means of production are produced to permit the employment 
+of the entire able-bodied population under the most productive conditions, so that their absolute working 
+period could be shortened by the mass and effectiveness of the constant capital employed during 
+working-hours. 
+
+On the other hand, too many means of labour and necessities of life are produced at times to permit of 
+their serving as means for the exploitation of labourers at a certain rate of profit. Too many commodities 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 15 
+
+are produced to permit of a realisation and conversion into new capital of the value and surplus-value 
+contained in them under the conditions of distribution and consumption peculiar to capitalist production, 
+i.e., too many to permit of the consummation of this process without constantly recurring explosions. 
+
+Not too much wealth is produced. But at times too much wealth is produced in its capitalistic, 
+self-contradictory forms. 
+
+The limitations of the capitalist mode of production come to the surface: 
+
+1) In that the development of the productivity of labour creates out of the falling rate of profit a law 
+which at a certain point comes into antagonistic conflict with this development and must be overcome 
+constantly through crises. 
+
+2) In that the expansion or contraction of production are determined by the appropriation of unpaid 
+labour and the proportion of this unpaid labour to materialised labour in general, or, to speak the 
+language of the capitalists, by profit and the proportion of this profit to the employed capital, thus by a 
+definite rate of profit, rather than the relation of production to social requirements, i.e., to the 
+requirements of socially developed human beings. It is for this reason that the capitalist mode of 
+production meets with barriers at a certain expanded stage of production which, if viewed from the other 
+premise, would reversely have been altogether inadequate. It comes to a standstill at a point fixed by the 
+production and realisation of profit, and not the satisfaction of requirements. 
+
+If the rate of profit falls, there follows, on the one hand, an exertion of capital in order that the individual 
+capitalists, through improved methods, etc., may depress the value of their individual commodity below 
+the social average value and thereby realise an extra profit at the prevailing market-price. On the other 
+hand, there appears swindling and a general promotion of swindling by recourse to frenzied ventures 
+with new methods of production, new investments of capital, new adventures, all for the sake of securing 
+a shred of extra profit which, is independent of the general average and rises above it. 
+
+The rate of profit, i.e., the relative increment of capital, is above all important to all new offshoots of 
+capital seeking to find an independent place for themselves. And as soon as formation of capital were to 
+fall into the hands of a few established big capitals, for which the mass of profit compensates for the 
+falling rate of profit, the vital flame of production would be altogether extinguished. It would die out. 
+The rate of profit is the motive power of capitalist production. Things are produced only so long as they 
+can be produced with a profit. Hence the concern of the English economists over the decline of the rate 
+of profit. The fact that the bare possibility of this happening should worry Ricardo, shows his profound 
+understanding of the conditions of capitalist production. It is that which is held against him, it is his 
+unconcern about "human beings," and his having an eye solely for the development of the productive 
+forces, whatever the cost in human beings and capital- values — it is precisely that which is the important 
+thing about him. Development of the productive forces of social labour is the historical task and 
+justification of capital. This is just the way in which it unconsciously creates the material requirements of 
+a higher mode of production. What worries Ricardo is the fact that the rate of profit, the stimulating 
+principle of capitalist production, the fundamental premise and driving force of accumulation, should be 
+endangered by the development of production itself. And here the quantitative proportion means 
+everything. There is, indeed, something deeper behind it, of which he is only vaguely aware. It comes to 
+the surface here in a purely economic way — i.e., from the bourgeois point of view, within the 
+limitations of capitalist understanding, from the standpoint of capitalist production itself — that it has its 
+barrier, that it is relative, that it is not an absolute, but only a historical mode of production corresponding 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 15 
+
+to a definite limited epoch in the development of the material requirements of production. 
+
+IV. SUPPLEMENTARY REMARKS 
+
+Since the development of the productivity of labour proceeds very disproportionately in the various lines 
+of industry, and not only disproportionately in degree but frequently also in opposite directions, it 
+follows that the mass of average profit (= surplus-value) must be substantially below the level one would 
+naturally expect after the development of the productiveness in the most Advanced branches of industry. 
+The fact that the development of the productivity in different lines of industry proceeds at substantially 
+different rates and frequently even in opposite directions, is not due merely to the anarchy of competition 
+and the peculiarity of the bourgeois mode of production. Productivity of labour is also bound up with 
+natural conditions, which frequently become less productive as productivity grows — inasmuch as the 
+latter depends on social conditions. Hence the opposite movements in these different spheres — progress 
+here, and retrogression there. Consider the mere influence of the seasons, for instance, on which the bulk 
+of raw materials depends for its mass, the exhaustion of forest' lands, coal and iron mines, etc. 
+
+While the circulating part of constant capital, such as raw materials, etc., continually increases its mass in 
+proportion to the productivity of labour, this is not the case with fixed capital, such as buildings, 
+machinery, and lighting and heating facilities, etc. Although in absolute terms a machine becomes dearer 
+with the growth of its bodily mass, it becomes relatively cheaper. If five labourers produce ten times as 
+much of a commodity as before, this does not increase the outlay for fixed capital ten-fold; although the 
+value of this part of constant capital increases with the development of the productiveness, it does not by 
+any means increase in the same proportion. We have frequently pointed out the difference in the ratio of 
+constant to variable capital as expressed in the fall of the rate of profit, and the difference in the same 
+ratio as expressed in relation to the individual commodity and its price with the development of the 
+productivity of labour. 
+
+[The value of a commodity is determined by the total labour-time of past and living labour incorporated 
+in it. The increase in labour productivity consists precisely in that the share of living labour is reduced 
+while that of past labour is increased, but in such a way that the total quantity of labour incorporated in 
+that commodity declines; in such a way, therefore, that living labour decreases more than past labour 
+increases. The past labour contained in the value of a commodity — the constant part of capital — 
+consists partly of the wear and tear of fixed, partly of circulating, constant capital entirely consumed by 
+that commodity, such as raw and auxiliary materials. The portion of value deriving from raw and 
+auxiliary materials must decrease with the increased productivity of labour, because with regard to these 
+materials the productivity expresses itself precisely by reducing their value. On the other hand, it is most 
+characteristic of rising labour productivity that the fixed part of constant capital is strongly augmented, 
+and with it that portion of its value which is transferred by wear and tear to the commodities. For a new 
+method of production to represent a real increase in productivity, it must transfer a smaller additional 
+portion of the value of fixed capital to each unit of the commodity in wear and tear than the portion of 
+value deducted from it through the saving in living labour; in short, it must reduce the value of the 
+commodity. It must obviously do so even if, as it occurs in some cases, an additional value goes into the 
+value of the commodity for more or dearer raw or auxiliary materials over and above the additional 
+portion for wear and tear of the fixed capital. All additions to the value must be more than offset by the 
+reduction in value resulting from the decrease in living labour. 
+
+This reduction of the total quantity of labour going into a commodity seems, accordingly, to be the 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 15 
+
+essential criterion of increased productivity of labour, no matter under what social conditions production 
+is carried on. Productivity of labour, indeed, would always be measured by this standard in a society, in 
+which producers regulate their production according to a preconceived plan, or even under simple 
+commodity-production. But how does the matter stand under capitalist production? 
+
+Suppose, a certain line of capitalist industry produces a normal unit of its commodity under the following 
+conditions: The wear and tear of fixed capital amounts to 1/2 shilling per piece; raw and auxiliary 
+materials go into it to the amount of 17 1/2 shillings per piece; wages, 2 shillings; and surplus- value, 2 
+shillings at a rate of surplus- value of 100%. Total value = 22 shillings. We assume for the sake of 
+simplicity that the capital in this line of production has the average composition of social capital, so that 
+the price of production of the commodity is identical with its value, and the profit of the capitalist with 
+the created surplus-value. Then the cost-price of the commodity = 1/2 + 17 1/2 +2 = 20s., the average rate of 
+profit 2/20 = 10%, and the price of production per piece of the commodity, like its value = 22s. 
+
+Suppose a machine is invented which reduces by half the living labour required per piece of the 
+commodity, but trebles that portion of its value accounted for by the wear and tear of the fixed capital. In 
+that case, the calculation is: Wear and tear = 1 1/2 sh., raw and auxiliary materials, as before, 17i/2sh., 
+wages, lsh., surplus-value lsh., total 21sh. The commodity then falls lsh. in value; the new machine has 
+certainly increased the productivity of labour. But the capitalist sees the matter as follows: his cost-price 
+is now I1/2S for wear, 17i/2S. for raw and auxiliary materials, lsh. for wages, total 20s., as before. Since 
+the rate of profit is not immediately altered by the new machine, he will receive 10% over his cost-price, 
+that is, 2s. The price of production, then, remains unaltered = 22s., but is Is. above the value. For a 
+society producing under capitalist conditions the commodity has not cheapened. The new machine is no 
+improvement for it. The capitalist is, therefore, not interested in introducing it. And since its introduction 
+would make his present, not as yet worn-out, machinery simply worthless, would turn it into scrap-iron, 
+hence would cause a positive loss, he takes good care not to commit this, what is for him a Utopian, 
+mistake. 
+
+The law of increased productivity of labour is not, therefore, absolutely valid for capital. So far as capital 
+is concerned, productiveness does not increase through a saving in living labour in general, but only 
+through a saving in the paid portion of living labour, as compared to labour expended in the past, as we 
+have already indicated in passing in Book I (Kap. XI II, 2, 5. 409/398). [English edition: Ch. XV, 2. — 
+Ed.] Here the capitalist mode of production is beset with another contradiction Its historical mission is 
+unconstrained development in geometrical progression of the productivity of human labour. It goes back 
+on its mission whenever, as here, it checks the development of productivity. It thus demonstrates again 
+that it is becoming senile and that it is more and more outlived.]JT[ 
+
+
+
+Under competition, the increasing minimum of capital required with the increase in productivity for the 
+successful operation of an independent industrial establishment, assumes the following aspect: As soon 
+as the new, more expensive equipment has become universally established, smaller capitals are 
+henceforth excluded from this industry. Smaller capitals can carry on independently in the various 
+spheres of industry only in the infancy of mechanical inventions. Very large undertakings, such as 
+railways, on the other hand, which have an unusually high proportion of constant capital, do not yield the 
+average rate of profit, but only a portion of it, only an interest. Otherwise the general rate of profit would 
+have fallen still lower. But this offers direct employment to large concentrations of capital in the form of 
+stocks. 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 15 
+
+Growth of capital, hence accumulation of capital, does not imply a fall in the rate of profit, unless it is 
+accompanied by the aforementioned changes in the proportion of the organic constituents of capital. Now 
+it so happens that in spite of the constant daily revolutions in the mode of production, now this and now 
+that larger or smaller portion of the total capital continues to accumulate for certain periods on the basis 
+of a given average proportion of those constituents, so that there is no organic change with its growth, 
+and consequently no cause for a fall in the rate of profit. This constant expansion of capital, hence also an 
+expansion of production, on the capital, hence accumulation of capital, does not imply a fall in the rate of 
+profit basis of the old method of production which goes quietly on while new methods are already being 
+introduced at Its side, is another reason, why the rate of profit does not decline as much as the total 
+capital of society grows. 
+
+The increase in the absolute number of labourers does not occur in all branches of production, and not 
+uniformly in all, in spite of the relative decrease of variable capital laid out in wages. In agriculture, the 
+decrease of the element of living labour may be absolute. 
+
+At any rate, it is but a requirement of the capitalist mode of production that the number of wage-workers 
+should increase absolutely, in spite of its relative decrease. Labour-power becomes redundant for it as 
+soon as it is no longer necessary to employ it for 12 to 15 hours daily. A development of productive 
+forces which would diminish the absolute number of labourers, i.e., enable the entire nation to 
+accomplish its total production in a shorter time span, would cause a revolution, because it would put the 
+bulk of the population out of the running. This is another manifestation of the specific barrier of capitalist 
+production, showing also that capitalist production is by no means an absolute form for the development 
+of the productive forces and for the creation of wealth, but rather that at a certain point it comes into 
+collision with this development. This collision appears partly in periodical crises, which arise from the 
+circumstance that now this and now that portion of the labouring population becomes redundant under its 
+old mode of employment. The limit of capitalist production is the excess time of the labourers. The 
+absolute spare time gained by society does not concern it. The development of productivity concerns it 
+only in so far as it increases the surplus labour-time of the working-class, not because it decreases the 
+labour-time for material production in general. It moves thus in a contradiction. 
+
+We have seen that the growing accumulation of capital implies its growing concentration. Thus grows 
+the power of capital, the alienation of the conditions of social production personified in the capitalist 
+from the real producers. Capital comes more and more to the fore as a social power, whose agent is the 
+capitalist. This social power no longer stands in any possible relation to that which the labour of a single 
+individual can create. It becomes an alienated, independent, social power, which stands opposed to 
+society as an object, and as an object that is the capitalist's source of power. The contradiction between 
+the general social power into which capital develops, on the one hand, and the private power of the 
+individual capitalists over these social conditions of production, on the other, becomes ever more 
+irreconcilable, and yet contains the solution of the problem, because it implies at the same time the 
+transformation of the conditions of production into general, common, social, conditions. This 
+transformation stems from the development of the productive forces under capitalist production, and 
+from the ways and means by which this development takes place. 
+
+
+
+No capitalist ever voluntarily introduces a new method of production, no matter how much more 
+productive it may be, and how much it may increase the rate of surplus-value, so long as it reduces the 
+rate of profit. Yet every such new method of production cheapens the commodities. Hence, the capitalist 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 15 
+
+sells them originally above their prices of production, or, perhaps, above their value. He pockets the 
+difference between their costs of production and the market-prices of the same commodities produced at 
+higher costs of production. He can do this, because the average labour-time required socially for the 
+production of these latter commodities is higher than the labour-time required for the new methods of 
+production. His method of production stands above the social average. But competition makes it general 
+and subject to the general law. There follows a fall in the rate of profit — perhaps first in this sphere of 
+production, and eventually it achieves a balance with the rest — which is, therefore, wholly independent 
+of the will of the capitalist. 
+
+It is still to be added to this point, that this same law also governs those spheres of production, whose 
+product passes neither directly nor indirectly into the consumption of the labourers, or into the conditions 
+under which their necessities are produced; it applies, therefore, also to those spheres of production, in 
+which there is no cheapening of commodities to increase the relative surplus-value or cheapen 
+labour-power. (At any rate, a cheapening of constant capital in all these lines may increase the rate of 
+profit, with the exploitation of labour remaining the same.) As soon as the new production method begins 
+to spread, and thereby to furnish tangible proof that these commodities can actually be produced more 
+cheaply, the capitalists working with the old methods of production must sell their product below its full 
+price of production, because the value of this commodity has fallen, and because the labour-time required 
+by them to produce it is greater than the social average. In one word — and this appears as an effect of 
+competition — these capitalists must also introduce the new method of production, in which the 
+proportion of variable to constant capital has been reduced. 
+
+All the circumstances which lead to the use of machinery cheapening the price of a commodity produced 
+by it, come down in the last analysis to a reduction of the quantity of labour absorbed by a single piece of 
+the commodity; and secondly, to a reduction in the wear-and-tear portion of the machinery, whose value 
+goes into a single piece of the commodity. The less rapid the wear of machinery, the more the 
+commodities over which it is distributed, and the more living labour it replaces before its term of 
+reproduction arrives. In both cases the quantity and value of the fixed constant capital increase in relation 
+to the variable. 
+
+"All other things being equal, the, power of a nation to save from its profits varies with the rate of profits: 
+is great when they are high, less, when low; but as the rate of profits declines, all other things do not 
+remain equal... A low rate of profits is ordinarily accompanied by a rapid rate of accumulation, relatively 
+to the numbers of the people, as in England... a high rate of profit by a slower rate of accumulation, 
+relatively to the numbers of the people. Examples: Poland, Russia, India, etc." (Richard Jones, An 
+Introductory Lecture on Political Economy, London, 1833, p. 50 ff.) Jones emphasises correctly that in 
+spite of the falling rate of profit the inducements and faculties to accumulate are augmented; first, on 
+account of the growing relative overpopulation; second, because the growing productivity of labour is 
+accompanied by an increase in the mass of use-values represented by the same exchange-value, hence in 
+the material elements of capital; third, because the branches of production become more varied; fourth, 
+due to the development of the credit system, the stock companies, etc., and the resultant case of 
+converting money into capital without becoming an industrial capitalist; fifth, because the wants and the 
+greed for wealth increase; and, sixth, because the mass of investments in fixed capital grows, etc. 
+
+
+
+Three cardinal facts of capitalist production: 
+
+1) Concentration of means of production in few hands, whereby they cease to appear as the property of 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 15 
+
+the immediate labourers and turn into social production capacities. Even if initially they are the private 
+property of capitalists. These are the trustees of bourgeois society, but they pocket all the proceeds of this 
+trusteeship. 
+
+2) Organisation of labour itself into social labour: through co-operation, division of labour, and the 
+uniting of labour with the natural sciences. 
+
+In these two senses, the capitalist mode of production abolishes private property and private labour, even 
+though in contradictory forms. 
+
+3) Creation of the world-market. 
+
+The stupendous productivity developing under the capitalist mode of production relative to population, 
+and the increase, if not in the same proportion, of capital-values (not just of their material substance), 
+which grow much more rapidly than the population, contradict the basis, which constantly narrows in 
+relation to the expanding wealth, and for which all this immense productiveness works. They also 
+contradict the conditions under which this swelling capital augments its value. Hence the crises. 
+
+FOOTNOTES 
+
+T 1 1 The foregoing is placed in brackets, because, though a rehash of the notes of the original manuscript, 
+it goes in some points beyond the scope of the material found in the original. — F.E. 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 16 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 16 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Part IV 
+
+CONVERSION OF COMMODITY-CAPITAL AND MONEY-CAPITAL 
+INTO COMMERCIAL CAPITAL AND MONEY-DEALING CAPITAL 
+(MERCHANT'S CAPITAL) 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 16 
+
+
+
+Commercial Capital 
+
+
+
+Merchant's, or trading, capital breaks up into two forms or sub-divisions, namely, commercial capital and 
+money-dealing capital, which we shall now define more closely, in so far as this is necessary for our 
+analysis of capital in its basic structure. This is all the more necessary, because modern political 
+economy, even in the persons of its best exponents, throws trading capital and industrial capital 
+indiscriminately together and, in effect, wholly overlooks the characteristic peculiarities of the former. 
+
+
+
+The movements of commodity-capital have been analysed in Book II. To take the total capital of society, 
+one part of it — always made up of different elements and even changing in magnitude — always exists 
+in the form of commodities on the market, to be converted into money. Another part exists on the market 
+in the form of money, to be converted into commodities. It is always in the process of this transition, of 
+this formal metamorphosis. Inasmuch as this function of capital in the process of circulation is at all set 
+apart as a special function of a special capital, as a function established by virtue of the division of labour 
+to a special group of capitalists, commodity-capital becomes commercial capital. 
+
+We have explained (Book II, Chapter VI, "The Costs of Circulation,") to what extent the transport 
+industry, storage and distribution of commodities in a distributable form, may be regarded as production 
+processes continuing within the process of circulation. These episodes incidental to the circulation of 
+commodity-capital are sometimes confused with the distinct functions of merchant's or commercial 
+capital. Sometimes they are, indeed, practically bound up with these distinct, specific functions, although 
+with the development of the social division of labour the function of merchant's capital evolves in a pure 
+form, i.e., divorced from those real functions, and independent of them. Those functions are therefore 
+irrelevant to our purpose, which is to define the specific difference of this special form of capital. In so 
+far as capital solely employed in the circulation process, special commercial capital, partly combines 
+those functions with its specific ones, it does not appear in its pure form. We obtain its pure form after 
+stripping it of all these incidental functions. 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 16 
+
+We have seen that the existence of capital as commodity-capital and the metamorphosis it undergoes 
+within the sphere of circulation in the market as commodity-capital — a metamorphosis which resolves 
+itself into buying and selling, converting commodity-capital into money-capital and money-capital into 
+commodity-capital — that this forms a phase in the reproduction process of industrial capital, hence in its 
+process of production as a whole. We have also seen, however, that it is distinguished in its function as a 
+capital of circulation from its function as productive capital. These are two different and separate forms 
+of existence of the same capital. One portion of the total social capital is continually on the market in the 
+form of capital of circulation, passing through this process of transmutation, although for each individual 
+capital its existence as commodity-capital, and its metamorphosis as such, merely represent 
+ever- vanishing and ever renewed nodal points — i.e., stages of transition in the continuity of its 
+production process, and although the elements of commodity-capital in the market vary continuously for 
+this reason, being constantly withdrawn from the commodity-market and equally periodically returned to 
+it as new products of the process of production. 
+
+Commercial capital is nothing but a transmuted form of a part of this capital of circulation constantly to 
+be found in the market, ever in the process of its metamorphosis, and always encompassed by the sphere 
+of circulation. We say a part, because a part of the selling and buying of commodities always takes place 
+directly between industrial capitalists. We leave this part entirely out of consideration in this analysis, 
+because it contributes nothing to defining the conception, or to understanding the specific nature of 
+merchant's capital, and because it has furthermore been exhaustively treated for our purpose in Book II. 
+
+The dealer in commodities, as a capitalist generally, appears on the market primarily as the representative 
+of a certain sum of money, which be advances as a capitalist, i.e., which he wants to turn from x (its 
+original value) into x + Ax (the original sum plus profit). But it is evident to him — not being just a 
+capitalist in general, but rather a special dealer in commodities — that his capital must first enter the 
+market in the form of money-capital, for he does not produce commodities. He merely trades in them, 
+expedites their movement, and to operate with them he must first buy them, and, therefore, must be in 
+possession of money-capital. 
+
+Suppose that a dealer in commodities owns £3,000 which he invests as a trading capital. With these 
+£3,000 he buys, say, 30,000 yards of linen from some linen manufacturer at 2s. per yard. He then sells 
+the 30,000 yards. If the annual average rate of profit of 10% and he makes an annual profit of 10% after 
+deducting all incidental expenses, then by the end of the year he has converted his £3,000 into £3,300. 
+How he makes this profit is a question which we shall discuss later. At present, we intend to consider 
+solely the form of the movements of his capital. With his £3,000 he keeps buying linen and selling it; he 
+constantly repeats this operation of buying in order to sell, M — C — M', the simple form of capital as it 
+obtains entirely in the process of circulation, uninterrupted by the production process, which lies outside 
+its own movement and function. 
+
+What is now the relation of this commercial capital to commodity-capital as a mere form of existence of 
+industrial capital? So far as the linen manufacturer is concerned, he has realised the value of his linen 
+with the merchant's money and thereby completed the first phase in the metamorphosis of his 
+commodity-capital — its conversion into money. Other conditions being equal, he can now proceed to 
+reconvert this money into yarn, coal, wages, etc., and into means of existence, etc., for the consumption 
+of his revenue. Hence, leaving aside the revenue expenditure, he can go on with his process of 
+reproduction. 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 16 
+
+But while the sale of the linen, its metamorphosis into money, has taken place for him, as producer, it has 
+not yet taken place for the linen itself. It is still on the market as commodity-capital awaiting to undergo 
+its first metamorphosis — to be sold. Nothing has happened to this linen besides a change in the person 
+of its owner. As concerns its purpose, as concerns its place in the process, it is still commodity-capital, a 
+saleable commodity, with the only difference that it is now in the merchant's hands instead of the 
+manufacturer's. The function of selling it, of effecting the first phase of its metamorphosis, has passed 
+from the manufacturer to the merchant, has become the special business of the merchant, whereas 
+previously it was a function which the producer had to perform himself after having completed the 
+function of its production. 
+
+Let us assume that the merchant fails to sell the 30,000 yards of linen during the interval required by the 
+linen manufacturer to bring another 30,000 yards to market at a value of £3,000. The merchant cannot 
+buy them again, because he still has in stock the unsold 30,000 yards which have not as yet been 
+reconverted into money-capital. A stoppage ensues, i.e., an interruption of reproduction. The linen 
+producer might, of course, have additional money-capital at his disposal, which he could convert into 
+productive capital, regardless of the sale of the 30,000 yards, in order to continue the production process. 
+But this would not alter the situation. So far as the capital tied up in the 30,000 yards of linen is 
+concerned, its process of reproduction is, and remains, interrupted. It is, indeed, easily seen here that the 
+merchant's operations are really nothing but operations that must be per-formed at all events to convert 
+the producer's commodity-capital into money. They are operations which effect the functions of 
+commodity-capital in the circulation and reproduction processes. If it devolved upon the producer's clerk 
+to attend exclusively to the sale, and also the purchase, instead of an independent merchant, this 
+connection would not be obscured for a single moment. 
+
+Commercial capital is, therefore, nothing but the producer's commodity — capital which has to undergo 
+the process of conversion into money — to perform its function of commodity-capital on the market-the 
+only difference being that instead of representing an incidental function of the producer, it is now the 
+exclusive operation of a special kind of capitalist, the merchant, and is set apart as the business of a 
+special investment of capital. 
+
+This becomes evident, furthermore, in the specific form of circulation of commercial capital The 
+merchant buys a commodity and then sells it: M — C — M'. In the simple circulation of commodities, or 
+even in the circulation of commodities as it appears in the circulation process of industrial capital, C — 
+M — C, circulation is effected by each piece of money changing hands twice. The linen manufacturer 
+sells his commodity-linen, converting it into money; the buyer's money passes into his hands. With this 
+same money he buys yarn, coal, labour, etc. expends the money for reconverting the value of linen into 
+the commodities which make up its production elements. The commodity he buys is not the same 
+commodity, not the same kind of commodity which he sells. He has sold products and bought means of 
+production. But it is different with respect to the movements of merchant's capital. With his £3,000 the 
+linen merchant buys 30,000 yards of linen; he sells the same 30,000 yards of linen in order to retrieve his 
+money-capital (£3,000 and the profit) from circulation. It is not the same pieces of money, but rather the 
+same commodity which here changes places twice; the commodity passes from the seller into the hands 
+of the buyer, and from the hands of the buyer, who now becomes seller, into those of another buyer. It is 
+sold twice, and may be sold repeatedly through the medium of a series of merchants. And it is precisely 
+through this repeated sale, through this two-fold change of place of the same commodity, that the money 
+advanced for its purchase by the first buyer is retrieved, its reflux to him effected. In one case, C — M 
+— C effects the two-fold change of place of the same money, the sale of a commodity in one form and 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 16 
+
+the purchase of a commodity in another. In the other case, M — C — M' effects the two-fold change of 
+place of the same commodity, the withdrawal of advanced money from circulation. It is evident that the 
+commodity has not been finally sold when it passes from the producer into the hands of the merchant, in 
+that the latter merely carries on the operation of selling-or effects the function of commodity-capital. But 
+at the same time it is evident that what is C — M, a mere function of his capital in its transient form of 
+commodity-capital for the productive capitalist, is M — C — M', a specific increase in the value of his 
+advanced money-capital, for the merchant. One phase of the metamorphosis of commodities appears here 
+in respect to the merchant in the form of M — C — M', hence as evolution of a distinct kind of capital. 
+
+The merchant finally sells his commodity, that is, the linen, to the consumer, be it a productive consumer 
+(for instance, a bleacher), or an individual who acquires the linen for his private use. The merchant 
+thereby recovers his advanced capital (with a profit), and can repeat his operation anew. Had the money 
+served merely as a means of payment in purchasing the linen, so that the merchant would have had to pay 
+only after six weeks, and had he succeeded in selling before this term was out, he could have paid the 
+linen manufacturer without advancing any money-capital of his own. Had he not sold it, he would have 
+had to advance his £3,000 on the date of expiration, instead of on delivery of the linen. And if a drop in 
+the market-prices had compelled him to sell below the purchase price, he would have had to make good 
+the shortage out of his own capital. 
+
+What is it, then, that lends to commercial capital the character of an independently operating capital, 
+whereas in the hands of the producer who does his own selling it is obviously merely a special form of 
+his capital in a specific phase of the reproduction process during its sojourn in the sphere of circulation? 
+
+First: The fact that commodity-capital is finally converted into money, that it performs its initial 
+metamorphosis, i.e., its appropriate function on the market qua commodity-capital while in the hands of 
+an agent other than the producer, and that this function of commodity-capital is effected by the merchant 
+in his operations, his buying and selling, so that these operations assume the appearance of a separate 
+undertaking distinct from the other functions of industrial capital — and hence of an independent 
+undertaking. It is a distinct form of the social division of labour, so that part of the function ordinarily 
+performed as a special phase of the reproduction process of capital, in this case — circulation, appears as 
+the exclusive function of specific circulation agent distinct from the producer. But this alone would by no 
+means give this particular business the aspect of a function of a specific capital distinct from, and 
+independent of, industrial capital engaged in the process of reproduction; indeed, it does not so appear in 
+cases where trade is carried on by travelling salesmen or other direct agents of the industrial capitalist. 
+Therefore, there must be a second element involved. 
+
+Second: This arises from the fact that in his capacity as an independent circulation agent, the merchant 
+advances money-capital (his own or borrowed). The transaction which for industrial capital in the 
+reproduction process amounts merely to C — M, i.e., converting commodity-capital into money-capital, 
+or mere sale, assumes for the merchant the form of M — C — M', or purchase and sale of the same 
+commodity, and thus of & reflux of money-capital which leaves him in the purchase, and returns to him 
+in the sale. 
+
+It is always C — M, the conversion of commodity-capital into money-capital, which for the merchant 
+assumes the form of M — C — M, inasmuch as he advances capital to purchase commodities from their 
+producers; it is always the first metamorphosis of commodity-capital, although for a producer, or for 
+industrial capital in process of reproduction, the same transaction may amount to M — C, to a 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 16 
+
+reconversion of money into commodities (means of production), to the second phase of the 
+metamorphosis. For the linen producer, the first metamorphosis was C — M, the conversion of his 
+commodity-capital into money-capital. For the merchant the same act appears as M — C, as a conversion 
+of his money-capital into commodity-capital. Now, if he sells this linen to a bleacher, it will mean M — 
+C, i.e., the conversion of money; capital into productive capital, this being the second metamorphosis of 
+his commodity-capital for the bleacher, while for the merchant it means C — M, the sale of the linen he 
+had bought. But in fact it is only at this point that the commodity-capital produced by the linen 
+manufacturer has been finally sold. In other words, this M — C — M of the merchant represents no more 
+than a middleman's function for C — M between two manufacturers. Or let us assume that the linen 
+manufacturer buys yarn from a yarn dealer with a portion of the value of the sold linen. This is M — C 
+for him. But for the merchant selling the yarn it is C — M, the resale of the yarn. As concerning the yarn 
+in its capacity of commodity-capital, it is no more than its final sale, whereby it passes from the sphere of 
+circulation into that of consumption; it is C — M, the consummation of its first metamorphosis. Whether 
+the merchant buys, or sells to the industrial capitalist, his M — C — M, the circuit of merchant's capital, 
+always expresses what is just C — M, or simply the completion of its first metamorphosis, with regard to 
+the commodity-capital, a transient form of industrial capital in process of reproduction. The M — C of 
+merchant's capital is C — M only for the industrial capitalist, not for the commodity-capital produced by 
+him. It is but the transfer of commodity-capital from the industrial capitalist to the circulation agent. It is 
+not until the merchant's capital closes C — M that functioning commodity-capital performs its final C — 
+M. M — C — M amounts solely to two C — M's of the same commodity-capital, two successive sales of 
+it, which merely effect its last and final sale. 
+
+Thus, commodity-capital assumes in commercial capital the form of an independent type of capital 
+because the merchant advances money-capital, which is realised and functions as capital only by serving 
+exclusively to mediate the metamorphosis of commodity-capital, its function as commodity-capital, i.e., 
+its conversion into money, and it accomplishes this by the continual purchase and sale of commodities. 
+This is its exclusive operation. This activity of effecting the circulation process of industrial capital is the 
+exclusive function of the money-capital with which the merchant operates. By means of this function he 
+converts his money into money-capital, moulds his M into M — C — M, and by the same process 
+converts commodity-capital into commercial capital. 
+
+So long and so far as commercial capital exists in the form of commodity-capital, it is obviously nothing 
+else — from the standpoint of the reproduction process of the total social capital — but a portion of 
+industrial capital in the market in process of metamorphosis, which exists and functions as 
+commodity-capital. It is therefore only the money-capital advanced by the merchant which is exclusively 
+destined for purchase and sale and for this reason never assumes any other form but that of 
+commodity-capital and money-capital, never that of productive capital, and is always confined to the 
+sphere of circulation of capital — it is only this money-capital which is now to be regarded with 
+reference to the entire reproduction process of capital. 
+
+As soon as the producer, the linen manufacturer, has sold his 30,000 yards to the merchant for £3,000, he 
+uses the money so obtained to buy the necessary means of production, so that his capital returns to the 
+production process. His process of production continues without interruption. So far as he is concerned, 
+the conversion of his commodity into money is accomplished. But for the linen itself, as we have seen, 
+its metamorphosis has not yet taken place. It has not yet been finally reconverted into money, has not yet 
+passed as a use- value into either productive or individual consumption. It is now the linen merchant who 
+represents on the market the same commodity-capital originally represented by the linen manufacturer. 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 16 
+
+For the latter the process of transformation has been curtailed, only to be continued in the merchant's 
+hands. 
+
+Had the linen producer been obliged to wait until his linen had really ceased being a commodity, until it 
+has passed into the hands of its ultimate buyer, its productive or individual consumer, his process of 
+reproduction would have been interrupted. Or, to avoid interrupting it, he would have had to curtail his 
+operations, to convert a smaller portion of his linen into yarn, coal, labour, etc., in short, into the 
+elements of productive capital, and to retain a larger portion of it as a money reserve, so that with one 
+portion of his capital on the market in the shape of commodities, another would continue the process of 
+production; one portion would be on the market in the form of commodities, while the other returned in 
+the form of money. This division of his capital is not abolished by the merchant's intervention. But 
+without it the portion of money reserve in the capital of circulation would always have to be greater in 
+relation to the part employed in the form of productive capital, and the scale of reproduction would have 
+to be restricted accordingly. Instead, however, the manufacturer is enabled to constantly employ a larger 
+portion of his capital in the actual process of production, and a smaller portion as money reserve. 
+
+On the other hand, however, another portion of the social capital, in the form of merchant's capital, is 
+kept continually within the sphere of circulation. It is employed all the time for the sole purpose of 
+buying and selling. Hence there seems to have been no more than a replacement of persons holding this 
+capital in their hands. 
+
+If, instead of buying £3,000 worth of linen with the purpose of selling it again, the merchant had applied 
+these £3,000 productively, the productive capital of society would have increased. True, the linen 
+manufacturer would then have been obliged to hold back a larger portion of his capital as money reserve, 
+and likewise the merchant, now transformed into an industrial capitalist. On the other hand, if the 
+merchant remains merchant, the manufacturer saves time in selling, which he can devote to supervising 
+the production process, while the merchant must apply all his time to selling. 
+
+If merchant's capital does not overstep its necessary proportions, it is to be inferred, 
+
+1) that as a result of the division of labour the capital devoted exclusively to buying and selling (and this 
+includes not only the money required to buy commodities, but also the money which must be invested in 
+labour to maintain the merchant's establishment, and in his constant capital-the storehouses, transport, 
+etc.) is smaller than it would be if the industrial capitalist were constrained to carry on the entire 
+commercial part of his business on his own; 
+
+2) that because the merchant devotes all his time exclusively to this business, the producer is able to 
+convert his commodities more rapidly into money, and, moreover, the commodity-capital itself passes 
+more rapidly through its metamorphosis than it would in the hands of the producer; 
+
+3) that in viewing the aggregate merchant's capital in its relation to industrial capital, one turnover of 
+merchant's capital may represent not only the turnovers of many capitals in one sphere of production, but 
+the turnovers of a number of capitals in different spheres of production. The former is the case when, for 
+instance, the linen merchant, after buying the product of some linen manufacturer with his £3,000, sells it 
+before the same manufacturer brings another lot of the same quantity to market, and buys, and again 
+sells, the product of another, or several other, linen manufacturers, thus effecting the turnovers of 
+different capitals in the same sphere of production. The latter is the case if, for example, the merchant 
+after selling his linen buys silk, thus effecting the turnover of a capital in a different sphere of production. 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 16 
+
+In general, it may be noted that the turnover of industrial capital is limited not by the time of circulation 
+alone, but also by the time of production. The turnover of merchant's capital dealing in one kind of 
+commodity is not merely limited by the turnover of a single industrial capital, but by that of all industrial 
+capitals in the same branch of production. After the merchant has bought and sold the linen of one 
+producer he can buy and sell that of another, before the first brings another lot to the market. The same 
+merchant's capital may, therefore, successively promote the different turnovers of capitals invested in a 
+certain branch of production, with the effect that its turnover is not identical with the turnovers of a sole 
+industrial capital, and does not therefore replace just the single money reserve which that one industrial 
+capitalist would have had to hold in petto. The turnover of merchant's capital in one sphere of production 
+is naturally restricted by the total production of that sphere. But it is not restricted by the scale of 
+production, or the period of turnover, of any one capital of the same sphere, so far as its period of 
+turnover is qualified by its time of production. Suppose, A supplies a commodity requiring three months 
+for its production. After the merchant has bought and sold it, say, in one month, he can buy and sell the 
+same product of some other manufacturer. Or after he has sold, say, the corn of one farmer, he can buy 
+and sell that of another with the same money, etc. The turnover of his capital is restricted by the mass of 
+corn he is able to buy and sell successively within a certain period, for instance, in one year, while the 
+turnover of the farmer's capital is, regardless of the time of turnover, restricted by the time of production, 
+which lasts one year. 
+
+However, the turnover of the same merchant's capital may equally well effect the turnovers of capitals in 
+different branches of production. 
+
+In so far as the same merchant's capital serves in different turnovers to transform different 
+commodity-capitals successively into money, buying and selling them one after another, it performs the 
+same function in its capacity of money-capital with regard to commodity-capital, which money in 
+general performs by means of the number of its turnovers in a given period with regard 10 commodities. 
+
+The turnover of merchant's capital is not identical with the turnover, or a single reproduction, of an 
+industrial capital of equal size; it is rather equal to the sum of the turnovers of a number of such capitals, 
+whether in the same or in different spheres of production. The more quickly merchant's capital is turned 
+over, the smaller the portion of total money-capital serving as merchant's capital; and conversely, the 
+more slowly it is turned over, the larger this portion. The less developed production, the larger the sum of 
+merchant's capital in its relation to the sum of the commodities thrown into circulation; but the smaller in 
+absolute terms, or in comparison with more developed conditions, and vice versa. In such undeveloped 
+conditions, therefore, the greater part of the actual money-capital is in the hands of merchants, whose 
+fortune constitutes money wealth vis-a-vis the others. 
+
+The velocity of circulation of the money-capital advanced by the merchant depends 1) on the speed with 
+which the process of production is renewed and the different processes of production are linked together; 
+and 2) on the velocity of consumption. 
+
+To accomplish the turnover we have examined above, merchant's capital does not first have to buy 
+commodities for its full amount of value, and then to sell them. Instead, the merchant performs both 
+movements simultaneously. His capital then breaks up into two parts. One of them consists of 
+commodity-capital, and the other of money-capital. He buys and converts his money into commodities at 
+one place. Elsewhere, he sells and converts another part of his commodity-capital into money. On one 
+side, his capital returns to him in the form of money-capital, while on the other he gets 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 16 
+
+commodity-capital. The larger the portion in one form, the smaller the portion in the other. This 
+alternates and balances itself. If the use of money as a medium of circulation combines with its use as a 
+means of payment and the attendant development of the credit system, then the money-capital part of 
+merchant's capital is reduced still more in relation to the volume of the transactions this merchant's 
+capital effects. If I buy £3,000 worth of wine on three months' credit and sell all the wine for cash before 
+this, term expires, I do not need to advance a single penny for these transactions In this case it is also 
+quite obvious that the money-capital, which here acts as merchant's capital, is nothing more than 
+industrial capital in its money-capital form, in its process of reflux in the form of money. (The fact that 
+the manufacturer who sold £3,000 worth of wine on three months' credit may discount his promissory 
+note at the banker's does not alter the matter at all and has nothing to do with the merchant's capital.) If 
+market-prices should fall in the meantime by, say, the merchant, far from making a profit, would recover 
+only £2,700 instead of £3,000. He would have to put up £300 out of his own pocket. These £300 would 
+serve merely as a reserve to balance the difference in price. But the same applies to the manufacturer. If 
+he himself had sold at falling prices, he would likewise have lost £300, and would not be able to resume 
+production on the same scale without reserve capital. 
+
+The linen merchant buys £3,000 worth of linen from the manufacturer. The latter pays, say, £2,000 of the 
+£3,000 for yarn. He buys this yarn from a yarn dealer. The money which the manufacturer pays to the 
+yarn dealer is not the linen dealer's money, for the latter has received commodities to this amount. It is 
+the money-form of the manufacturer's own capital. Now in the hands of the yarn dealer these £2,000 
+appear as returned money-capital. But to what extent are they that as distinct from the £2,000 
+representing the discarded money-form of the linen and the assumed money-form of the yarn? If the yarn 
+dealer bought on credit and sold for cash before the expiration of his term of payment, then these £2,000 
+do not contain one penny of merchant's capital as distinct from the money-form which the industrial 
+capital itself assumes in the course of its circuit. In so far as commercial capital is not, therefore, just a 
+form of industrial capital in the merchant's hands as commodity- or money-capital, it is nothing but that 
+portion of money-capital which belongs directly to the merchant and circulates in the purchase and sale 
+of commodities. On a reduced scale this portion represents that part of capital advanced for production 
+which should always have to be in the hands of the industrialist as money reserve and means of purchase, 
+and which should always have to circulate as his money-capital. This portion, on a reduced scale, is now 
+in the hands of merchant capitalists and performs its functions as such in the process of circulation. It is 
+that portion of the total capital which, aside from what is expended as revenue, must continually circulate 
+on the market as a means of purchase in order to maintain the continuity of the process of reproduction. 
+The more rapid the process of reproduction, and the more developed the function of money as a means of 
+payment, i.e., the more developed the credit system, £1} the smaller that portion is in relation to the total 
+capital. 
+
+Merchant's capital is simply capital functioning in the sphere of circulation. The process of circulation is 
+a phase of the total process of reproduction. But no value is produced in the process of circulation, and, 
+therefore, no surplus-value. Only changes of form of the same mass of value take place. In fact, nothing 
+occurs there outside the metamorphosis of commodities, and this has nothing to do as such either with 
+the creation or change of values. If a surplus- value is realised in the sale of produced commodities, then 
+this is only because it already existed in them. In the second act, the re-exchange of money-capital 
+against commodities (elements of production), the buyer therefore does not realise any surplus-value 
+either. He merely initiates the production of surplus-value through exchanging his money for means of 
+production and labour-power. But so far as these metamorphoses require circulation time — time during 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 16 
+
+which capital does not produce at all, least of all surplus-value — it restricts the creation of values, and 
+the surplus-value expresses itself through the rate of profit in inverse ratio to the duration of the 
+circulation period. Merchant's capital, therefore, does not create either value or surplus-value, at least not 
+directly. In so far as it contributes to shortening the time of circulation, it may help indirectly to increase 
+the surplus-value produced by the industrial capitalists. In so far as it helps to expand the market and 
+effects the division of labour between capitals, hence enabling capital to operate on a larger scale, its 
+function promotes the productivity of industrial capital, and its accumulation. In so far as it shortens 
+circulation time, it raises the ratio of surplus-value to advanced capital, hence the rate of profit. And to 
+the extent that it confines a smaller portion of capital to the sphere of circulation in the form of 
+money-capital, it increases that portion of capital which is engaged directly in production. 
+
+FOOTNOTES 
+
+T 1 1 To be able to classify merchant's capital as productive capital, Ramsay confounds it with the 
+transportation industry and calls commerce "the transport of commodities from one place to another." 
+(An Essay on the Distribution of Wealth, p. 19.) The same confusion by Verri (Meditazioni sulla 
+Economia Politica, § 4 [In: Scrittori classici italtant di economia politica. Parte moderna, t. XV, p. 32. 
+— Ed.]) and by Say (Traite d'economie politique, I, 14, 15). In his Elements of Political Economy 
+(Andover and New York, 1835) S.P. Newman says: "In the existing economical arrangements of society, 
+the very act, which is performed by the merchant, of standing between the producer and the consumer, 
+advancing to the former capital and receiving products in return, and then handing over these products to 
+the latter, receiving back capital in return, is a transaction which both facilitates the economical processes 
+of the community, and adds value to the products in relation to which it is performed" (p. 174). Producer 
+and consumer thus save time and money through the intervention of the merchant. This service requires 
+an advance of capital and labour, and must be rewarded, "since it adds value to products, for the same 
+products in the hands of consumers are worth more than in the hands of producers." And so commerce 
+appears to him, as it does to M. Say, as "strictly an act of production" (p. 175). This Newman's view is 
+fundamentally wrong. The use-value of a commodity is greater in the hands of the consumer than in 
+those of the producer, because it is first realised by the consumer. For the use-value of a commodity does 
+not serve Its end, does not begin to function until the commodity enters the sphere of consumption. So 
+long as it is in the hands of the producer, it exists only in potential form. But one does not pay twice for a 
+commodity — first for its exchange-value, and then for its use- value. By paying for its exchange-value, I 
+appropriate Its use-value. And its exchange-value is not in the least augmented by transferring the 
+commodity from the producer or middleman to the consumer. 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 17 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 17 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Part IV 
+
+CONVERSION OF COMMODITY-CAPITAL AND MONEY-CAPITAL 
+INTO COMMERCIAL CAPITAL AND MONEY-DEALING CAPITAL 
+(MERCHANT'S CAPITAL) 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 17 
+
+
+
+Commercial Profit 
+
+
+
+We have seen in Book II that the pure functions of capita in the sphere of circulation-the operations 
+which the industrial capitalist must perform, first, to realise the value of his commodities, and second, to 
+reconvert this value into elements of production, operations effecting the metamorphosis of 
+commodity — capital, C — M — C, hence the acts of selling and buying-produce neither value nor 
+surplus-value. It was rather seen that the time required for this purpose, objectively in regard to 
+commodities and subjectively in regard to the capitalist, sets the limit to the production of value and 
+surplus-value. What is true of the metamorphosis of commodity-capital in general, is, of course, not in 
+the least altered by the fact that a part of it may assume the shape of commercial capital, or that the 
+operations, effecting the metamorphosis of commodity-capital, appear as the special concern of a special 
+group of capitalists, or as the exclusive function of a portion of the money-capital. If selling and buying 
+commodities-and that is what the metamorphosis of commodity-capital C — M — C amounts to-by 
+industrial capitalists themselves are not operations which create value or surplus-value, they will 
+certainly not create either of these when carried out by persons other than the industrial capitalists. 
+Furthermore, if that portion of the total social capital, which must continually be on hand as 
+money-capital, in order that the process of reproduction is not interrupted by the process of circulation 
+and proceeds continuously-if this money-capital creates neither value nor surplus-value, it cannot acquire 
+the properties of creating them by being continually thrown into circulation by some section of capitalists 
+other than the industrial capitalists, to perform the same function. We have already indicated to what 
+extent merchant's capital may be indirectly productive, and we shall later discuss this point at greater 
+length. 
+
+Commercial capital, therefore — stripped of all heterogeneous functions, such as storing, expressing, 
+transporting, distributing, retailing, which may be connected with it, and confined to its true function of 
+buying in order to sell — creates neither value nor surplus-value, but acts as middleman in their 
+realisation and thereby simultaneously in the actual exchange of commodities, i.e., in their transfer from 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 17 
+
+hand to hand, in the social metabolism. Nevertheless, since the circulation phase of industrial capital is 
+just as much a phase of the reproduction process as production is, the capital operating independently in 
+the process of circulation must yield the average annual profit just as well as capital operating in the 
+various branches of production. Should merchant's capital yield a higher percentage of average profit 
+than industrial capital, then a portion of the latter would transform itself into merchant's capital. Should it 
+yield a lower average profit, then the converse would result. A portion of the merchant's capital would 
+then be transformed into industrial capital. No species of capital changes its purpose, or function, with 
+greater ease than merchant's capital. 
+
+Since merchant's capital does not itself produce surplus-value, it is evident that the surplus-value which it 
+pockets in the form of average profit must be a portion of the surplus-value produced by the total 
+productive capital. But now the question arises: How does merchant's capital attract its share of the 
+surplus-value or profit produced by the productive capital? 
+
+It is just an illusion that commercial profit is a mere addition to, or a nominal rise of, the prices of 
+commodities in excess of their value. 
+
+It is plain that the merchant can draw his profit only out of the price of the commodities he sells, and 
+plainer still that the profit he makes in selling his commodities must be equal to the difference between 
+his purchase price and his selling price, i.e., equal to the excess of the latter over the former. 
+
+It is possible that additional costs (costs of circulation) may enter into the commodities after their 
+purchase and before their sale, and it is also possible that this may not happen. If such costs should occur, 
+it is plain that the excess of the selling price over the purchase price would not be all profit. To simplify 
+the analysis, we shall assume at this point that no such costs occur. 
+
+For the industrial capitalist the difference between the selling price and the purchase price of his 
+commodities is equal to the difference between their price of production and their cost-price, or, from the 
+standpoint of the total social capital, equal to the difference between the value of the commodities and 
+their cost-price for the capitalists, which again comes down to the difference between the total quantity 
+of labour and the quantity of paid labour incorporated in them. Before the commodities bought by the 
+industrial capitalist are thrown back on the market as saleable commodities, they pass through the 
+process of production, in which alone the portion of their price to be realised as profit is created. But it is 
+different with the merchant. The commodities are in his hands only so long as they are in the process of 
+circulation. He merely continues their sale, the realisation of their price which was begun by the 
+productive capitalist, and therefore does not cause them to pass through any intermediate process in 
+which they could again absorb surplus-value. While the industrial capitalist merely realises the 
+previously produced surplus-value, or profit, in the process of circulation, the merchant has not only to 
+realise his profit during and through circulation, but must first make it. There appears to be no other way 
+of doing this outside of selling the commodities bought by him from the industrial capitalist at their 
+prices of production, or, from the standpoint of the total commodity-capital, at their values in excess of 
+their prices of production, making a nominal extra charge to their prices, hence, selling them, from the 
+standpoint of the total commodity-capital, above their value, and pocketing this excess of their nominal 
+value over their real value; in short, selling them for more than they are worth. 
+
+This method of adding an extra charge is easy to grasp. For instance, one yard of linen costs 2s. If I want 
+to make a 10% profit in reselling it, I must add 1/10 to the price, hence sell the yard at 2s. 22/5d. The 
+difference between its actual price of production and its selling price is then = 22/5d., and this represents 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 17 
+
+a profit of 10% on 2s. This amounts to my selling the yard to the buyer at a price which is in reality the 
+price of 1 1/10 yard. Or, what amounts to the same, it is as though I sold to the buyer only 10/1 1 of a yard 
+for 2s. and kept 1/1 1 of a yard for myself. In fact I can buy back 1/1 1 of a yard for 22/5d. at the price of 
+2s. 22/5d. per yard. This would, therefore, be just a roundabout way of sharing in the surplus-value and 
+surplus-product by a nominal rise in the price of commodities. 
+
+This is realisation of commercial profit by raising the price' of commodities, as it appears at first glance. 
+And, indeed, this whole notion that profit originates from a nominal rise in the price of commodities, or 
+from their sale above their value, springs from the observations of commercial capital. 
+
+But it is quickly apparent on closer inspection that this is mere illusion. Assuming capitalist production to 
+be predominant, commercial profit cannot be realised in this manner. (It is here always a question, of 
+averages, not of isolated cases.) Why do we assume that the merchant can realise a profit of no more 
+than, say, 10% on his commodities by selling them 10% above their price of production? Because we 
+assume that the producer of these commodities, the industrial capitalist (who appears as the producer 
+before the outside world, being the personification of industrial capital), had sold them to the dealer at 
+their prices of production. If the purchase price of commodities paid by the dealer is equal to their price 
+of production, or, in the last instance, equal to their value, so that the price of production or, in the last 
+instance, the value, represent the merchant's cost-price, then, indeed, the excess of his selling price over 
+his purchase price — and this difference alone is the source of his profit — must be an excess of their 
+commercial price over their price of production, so that in the final analysis the merchant sells all 
+commodities above their values. But why was it assumed that the industrial capitalist sells his 
+commodities to the merchant at their prices of production? Or rather, what was taken for granted in that 
+assumption? It was that merchant's capital did not go into forming the general rate of profit (we are 
+dealing with it as yet only in its capacity of commercial capital). We proceeded necessarily from this 
+premise in discussing the general rate of profit, first, because merchant's capital as such did not exist for 
+us at the time, and, second, because average profit, and hence the general rate of profit, had first to be 
+developed as a levelling of profits or surplus-values actually produced by the industrial capitals in the 
+different spheres of production. But in the case of merchant's capital we are dealing with a capital which 
+shares in the profit without participating in its production. Hence, it is now necessary to supplement our 
+earlier exposition. 
+
+Suppose, the total industrial capital advanced in the course of the year = 720 c + 180 v = 900 (say million 
+£), and that s' = 100%. The product therefore = 720 c + 180v+180s. Let us call this product or the 
+produced commodity-capital, C, whose value, or price of production (since both are identical for the 
+totality of commodities) = 1,080, and the rate of profit for the total social capital of 900 = 20%. These 
+20% are, according to our earlier analyses, the average rate of profit, since the surplus-value is not 
+calculated here on this or that capital of any particular composition, but on the total industrial capital of 
+average composition. Thus, C = 1,080, and the rate of profit = 20%. Let us now assume, however, that 
+aside from these £900 of industrial capital, there are still £100 of merchant's capital, which shares in the 
+profit pro rata to its magnitude just as the former. According to our assumption, it is 1/10 of the total 
+capital of 1,000. Therefore, it participates to the extent of 1/10 in the total surplus-value of 180, and thus 
+secures a profit of 18%. Actually, then, the profit to be distributed among the other 1/10 of the total 
+capital is only = 162, or on the capital of 900 likewise =18%. Hence, the price at which C is sold by the 
+owners of the industrial capital of 900 to the merchants = 720c + 180v + 162s = 1,062. If the dealer then 
+adds the average profit of 18% to his capital of 100, he sells the commodities at 1,062 + 18 = 1,080, i.e., 
+at their price of production, or, from the standpoint of the total commodity-capital, at their value, 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 17 
+
+although he makes his profit only during and through the circulation process, and only from an excess of 
+his selling price over his purchase price. Yet he does not sell the commodities above their value, or above 
+their price of production, precisely because he has bought them from the industrial capitalist below their 
+value, or below their price of production. 
+
+Thus, merchant's capital enters the formation of the general rate of profit as a determinant pro rata to its 
+part in the total capital. Hence, if we say in the given case that the average rate of profit = 18%, it would 
+= 20%, if it were not that 1/10 of the total capital was merchant's capital and the general rate of profit 
+thereby lowered by 1/10 This leads to a closer and more comprehensive definition of the price of 
+production. By price of production we mean, just as before, the price of a commodity = its costs (the 
+value of the constant + variable capital contained in it) + the average profit. But this average profit is 
+now determined differently. It is determined by the total profit produced by the total productive capital; 
+but not as calculated on the total productive capital alone, so that if this = 900, as assumed above, and the 
+profit = 180, then the average rate of profit = 180/900 = 20%. But, rather, as calculated on the total 
+productive + merchant's capital, so that with 900 productive and 100 merchant's capital, the average rate 
+of profit = 180/1,000 = 18%. The price of production is, therefore = k (the costs) + 18, instead of k + 20. 
+The share of the total profit falling to merchant's capital is thus included in the average rate of profit. The 
+actual value, or price of production, of the total commodity-capital is therefore = k + p + m (where m is 
+commercial profit). The price of production, or the price at which the industrial capitalist as such sells his 
+commodities, is thus smaller than the actual price of production of the commodity; or in terms of all 
+commodities taken together, the prices at which the class of industrial capitalists sell their commodities 
+are lower than their value. Hence, in the above case, 900 (costs) + 18% on 900, or 900 + 162 = 1,062. It 
+follows, then, that in selling a commodity at 1 18 for which he paid 100 the merchant does, indeed, add 
+18% to the price. But since this commodity, for which he paid 100, is really worth 1 18, he does not sell it 
+above its value. We shall henceforth use the term price of production in this, its more precise, sense. It is 
+evident, therefore, that the profit of the industrial capitalist equals the excess of the price of production of 
+the commodity over its cost-price, and that commercial profit, as distinct from this industrial profit, 
+equals the excess of the selling price over the price of production of the commodity which, for the 
+merchant, is its purchase price; but that the actual price of the commodity = its price of production + the 
+commercial profit. Just as industrial capital realises only such profits as already exist in the value of 
+commodities as surplus-value, so merchant's capital realises profits only because the entire surplus-value, 
+or profit, has not as yet been fully realised in the price charged for the commodities by the industrial 
+capitalist.]!! The merchant's selling price thus exceeds the purchase price not because the former exceeds 
+the total value, but because the latter is below this value. 
+
+Merchant's capital, therefore, participates in levelling surplus-value to average profit, although it does not 
+take part in its production. Thus, the general rate of profit contains a deduction from surplus-value due to 
+merchant's capital, hence a deduction from the profit of industrial capital. 
+
+It follows from the foregoing: 
+
+1) The larger the merchant's capital in proportion to the industrial capital, the smaller the rate of 
+industrial profit, and vice versa. 
+
+2) It was demonstrated in the first part that the rate of profit is always lower than the rate of the actual 
+surplus-value, i.e., it always understates the intensity of exploitation, as in the above case, 720 c + 180 v 
++ 180 s , the rate of surplus-value of 100% and a rate of profit of only 20%. And the difference becomes 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 17 
+
+still greater, inasmuch as the average rate of profit appears smaller again, dropping from 20% to 18%, if 
+the share falling to merchant's capital is also taken into account. The average rate of profit of the direct 
+capitalist exploiter, therefore, expresses a rate of profit smaller than it actually is. 
+
+Assuming all other circumstances remaining the same, the relative volume of merchant's capital (with the 
+exception of the small dealer who represents a hybrid form) is in inverse proportion to the velocity of its 
+turnover, hence in inverse proportion to the energy of the process of reproduction in general. In the 
+course of scientific analysis, the formation of a general rate of profit appears to result from industrial 
+capitals and their competition, and is only later corrected, supplemented, and modified by the 
+intervention of merchant's capital. In the course of its historical development, however, the process is 
+really reversed. It is the commercial capital which first determines the prices of commodities more or less 
+in accordance with their values, and it is the sphere of circulation, the sphere that promotes the process of 
+reproduction, in which a general rate of profit initially takes shape. It is originally the commercial profit 
+which determines the industrial profit. Not until the capitalist mode of production has asserted itself and 
+the producer himself has become merchant, is commercial profit reduced to that aliquot part of the total 
+surplus-value falling to the share of merchant's capital as an aliquot part of the total capital engaged in 
+the social process of reproduction. 
+
+It was seen in the supplementary equalisation of profit through the intervention of merchant's capital that 
+no additional element entered the value of commodities with the merchant's advanced money-capital, and 
+that the extra charge to the price, whereby the merchant makes his profit, was merely equal to that 
+portion of the value of the commodities, which productive capital had not calculated in the price of 
+production, i.e., had left out. The case of this money-capital is similar to that of the industrial capitalist's 
+fixed capital, since it is not consumed and its value, therefore, does not make up an element of the value 
+of commodity. It is in the purchase price of commodity-capital that the merchant replaces its price of 
+production = M, in money. His own selling price, as previously shown, is = M + AM, where AM stands 
+for the addition to the price of commodities determined by the general rate of profit. Once he sells the 
+commodities, his original money-capital, which he advanced for their purchase, returns to him together 
+with this AM. We see once more that his money-capital is nothing but the industrial capitalist's 
+commodity-capital transformed into money-capital, which affects the magnitude of the value of this 
+commodity-capital no more than would a direct sale of the latter to the ultimate consumer, instead of to 
+the merchant. It, actually, merely anticipates the payment of the consumer. However, this is correct only 
+on the condition hitherto assumed, that the merchant has no overhead expenses, or that aside from the 
+money-capital which he must advance to buy commodities from the producer he need not advance any 
+other capital, circulating or fixed, in the process of commodity metamorphosis., the process of buying 
+and selling. But this is not so in reality, as we have seen in the analysis of the costs of circulation (Book 
+II, Chap. VI). These costs of circulation are partly expenses which the merchant has to reclaim from 
+other agents of circulation, and partly expenses arising directly from his specific business. 
+
+No matter what the nature of these costs of circulation — whether they arise from the purely commercial 
+nature of the merchant's establishment as such and hence belong to the merchant's specific costs of 
+circulation, or represent items which are charges for subsequent processes of production added in the 
+process of circulation, such as expressage, transport, storage, etc. — they always require of the merchant, 
+aside from his money-capital, advanced to the purchase of commodities, some additional capital for the 
+purchase and payment of such means of circulation. As much of this element of cost as consists of 
+circulating capital passes wholly as an additional element into the selling price of the commodities; and 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 17 
+
+as much of it as consists of fixed capital only to the extent of its wear and tear. But only as an element 
+which forms a nominal value, even if as the purely commercial costs of circulation, it does not add any 
+real value to the commodities. But. whether fixed or circulating, this entire additional capital participates 
+in forming the general rate of profit. 
+
+The purely commercial costs of circulation (hence, excluding costs of expressage, shipping, storage, etc.) 
+resolve themselves into costs required to realise the value of commodities, to transform it from 
+commodities into money, or from money into commodities, to effect their exchange. We leave entirely 
+out of consideration all possible processes of production which may continue in the process of 
+circulation, and from which the merchant's business can be altogether separated; as, in fact, the actual 
+transport industry and expressage may be, and are, industrial branches entirely distinct from commercial; 
+and purchaseable and saleable commodities may be stored in docks or in other public premises, with the 
+resultant cost of storage being charged to the merchant by third persons inasmuch as he has to advance it. 
+All this takes place in actual wholesale commerce, where merchant's capital appears in its purest form, 
+unmixed with other functions. The express company owner, the railway director, and the shipowner, are 
+not "merchants." The costs which we consider here are those of buying and selling. We have already 
+remarked earlier that these resolve themselves into accounting, book-keeping, marketing, 
+correspondence, etc. The constant capital required for this purpose consists of offices, paper, postage, etc. 
+The other costs break up into variable capital advanced for the employment of mercantile wage-workers. 
+(Expressage, transport costs, advances for customs duties, etc., may partly be considered as being 
+advanced by the merchant in purchasing commodities and thus enter the purchase price as far as he is 
+concerned.) 
+
+All these costs are not incurred in producing the use- value of commodities, but in realising their value. 
+They are pure costs of circulation. They do not enter into the immediate process of production, but since 
+they are part of the process of circulation they are also part of the total process of reproduction. 
+
+The only portion of these costs of interest to us at this point is that advanced as variable capital. (The 
+following questions should also be analysed: First, how does the law that only necessary labour enters 
+the value of commodities operate in the process of circulation? Second, how does accumulation obtain in 
+merchant's capital? Third, how does merchant's capital function in the actual aggregate reproduction 
+process of society?) 
+
+These costs arise due to the product having the economic form of a commodity. 
+
+If the labour-time which the industrial capitalists themselves lose while directly selling commodities to 
+one another — hence, speaking objectively, the circulation time of the commodities-does not add value 
+to these commodities, it is evident that this labour-time does not change its nature in the least by falling 
+to the merchant instead of the industrial capitalist. The conversion of commodities (products) into 
+money, and of money into commodities (means of production) is a necessary function of industrial 
+capital and, therefore, a necessary operation of the capitalist — who is actually but personified capital 
+endowed with a consciousness of its own and a will. But these functions neither create value, nor 
+produce surplus-value. By performing these operations and carrying on the functions of capital in the 
+sphere of circulation after the productive capitalist has ceased to be involved the merchant merely takes 
+the place of the industrial capitalist. The labour-time required in these operations is devoted to certain 
+necessary operations of the reproduction process of capital, but yields no additional value. If the 
+merchant did not perform these operations (hence, did not expend the labour-time entailed), he would not 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 17 
+
+be applying his capital as a circulation agent of industrial capital; he would not then be continuing the 
+interrupted function of the industrial capitalist, and consequently could not participate as a capitalist pro 
+rata to his advanced capital, in the mass of profit produced by industrial capitalists. In order to share in 
+the mass of surplus-value, to expand the value of his advance as capital, the commercial capitalist need 
+not employ wage-workers. If his business and capital are small, he may be the only worker in it. He is 
+paid with that portion of the profit which falls to him through the difference between the purchase price 
+paid by him for commodities and their actual price of production. 
+
+But, on the other hand, the profit realised by the merchant on a small amount of advanced capital may be 
+no larger, or may even be smaller, than the wages of one of the better-paid skilled wage-workers. In fact, 
+he brushes shoulders with many direct commercial agents of the productive capitalist, such as buyers, 
+sellers, travellers, who enjoy the same or a higher income either in the form of wages, or in the form of a 
+share in the profit (percentages, bonuses) made from each sale. In the first case, the merchant pockets the 
+mercantile profit as an independent capitalist; in the other, the salesman, the industrial capitalist's 
+wage-labourer, receives a portion of the profit either in the form of wages, or as a proportional share in 
+the profit of the industrial capitalist, whose direct agent he is, while his employer pockets both the 
+industrial and the commercial profit. But in all these cases, although his income may appear to the 
+circulation agent as an ordinary wage, as payment for work performed, and although, where it does not 
+so appear, the profit may be no larger than the wage of a better-paid labourer, his income is derived 
+solely from the mercantile profit. This follows from his labour not being labour which produces value. 
+
+The lengthening of the act of circulation represents for the industrial capitalist 1) a personal loss of time, 
+since it prevents him from performing in person his function as manager of the productive process; 2) a 
+longer stay of his product in money- or commodity-form, in the circulation process, hence in a process 
+where it does not expand value and where the direct production process is interrupted. If this process is 
+not to be interrupted, production must either be curtailed, or more money-capital must be advanced to 
+maintain the process of production on the same scale. This means that each time either a smaller profit is 
+made on the capital hitherto invested, or that additional money-capital must be advanced to make the 
+previous profit. All this remains unchanged when the merchant takes the place of the industrial capitalist. 
+Instead of the industrial capitalist devoting more time to the process of circulation, it is the merchant who 
+is so engaged; instead of the industrial capitalist it is the merchant who advances additional capital for 
+circulation; or, what amounts to the same thing, instead of a large portion of the industrial capital being 
+continually diverted into the process of circulation, it is the merchant's capital which is wholly tied up in 
+it; and instead of making a smaller profit, the industrial capitalist must yield a portion of his profit wholly 
+to the merchant. So long as merchant's capital remains within the bounds in which it is necessary, the 
+only difference is that this division of the functions of capital reduces the time exclusively used up in the 
+process of circulation, that less additional capital is advanced for this purpose, and that the loss in total 
+profit, represented by mercantile profit, is smaller than it would otherwise have been. If in the above 
+example, 720 c + 180v+180s, assisted by a merchant's capital of 100, produces a profit of 162, or 
+18%, for the industrial capitalist, hence implying a deduction of 18, then, but for this independent 
+merchant's capital, the additional capital required would probably be 200, and we should have a total 
+advance by the industrial capitalist of 1,100 instead of 900, which, based upon a surplus-value of 180, 
+would yield a rate of profit of. only 164/11%. 
+
+If the industrial capitalist who acts as his own merchant advances not only the additional capital to buy 
+new commodities before his product in the process of circulation has been reconverted into money, but 
+also capital (office expenses and wages for commercial employees) to realise the value of his 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 17 
+
+commodity-capital, or, in other words, for the process of circulation, then these supplements form 
+additional capital, but do not create surplus-value. They must be made good out of the value of the 
+commodities, because a portion of the value of these commodities must be reconverted into these 
+circulation costs. But no additional surplus-value is created thereby. So far as this concerns the total 
+capital of society, it means in fact that a portion of it must be set aside for secondary operations which 
+are no part of the self-expansion process, and that this portion of the social capital must be continually 
+reproduced for this purpose. This reduces the rate of profit for the individual capitalist and for the entire 
+class of industrial capitalists, an effect arising from every new investment of additional capital whenever 
+such capital is required to set in motion the same mass of variable capital. 
+
+In so far as these additional costs connected with the business of circulation are transferred from the 
+industrial to the commercial capitalist, there takes place a similar reduction in the rate of profit, but to a 
+lesser degree and in a different way. It now develops that the merchant advances more capital than would 
+be necessary if these costs did not exist, and that the profit on this additional capital increases the amount 
+of the commercial profit, so that more of the merchant's capital joins industrial capital in levelling the 
+average rate of profit and thereby the average profit falls. If in our above example an additional capital of 
+50 is advanced besides the merchant's capital of 100 to cover the costs in question, then the total 
+surplus-value of 180 is distributed with respect to a productive capital of 900 plus a merchant's capital of 
+150, together = 1,050. The average rate of profit, therefore, sinks to 171/7% The industrial capitalist sells 
+his commodities to the merchant at 900 + 1542/7 = 1,05421/7, and the merchant sells them at 1,130 
+(1,080 + 50 for costs which he must recover). Moreover, it must be admitted that the division between 
+merchant's and industrial capital is accompanied by a centralisation of the commercial expenses and, 
+consequently, by their reduction. 
+
+The question now arises: What about the commercial wage- workers employed by the commercial 
+capitalist, here the merchant? 
+
+In one respect, such a commercial employee is a wage-worker like any other. In the first place, his 
+labour-power is bought with the variable capital of the merchant, not with money expended as revenue, 
+and consequently it is not bought for private service, but for the purpose of expanding the value of the 
+capital advanced for it. In the second place, the value of his labour-power, and thus his wages, are 
+determined as those of other wage-workers, i.e., by the cost of production and reproduction of his 
+specific labour-power, not by the product of his labour. 
+
+However, we must make the same distinction between him and the wage-workers directly employed by 
+industrial capital which exists between industrial capital and merchant's capital, and thus between the 
+industrial capitalist and the merchant. Since the merchant, as a mere agent of circulation, produces 
+neither value nor surplus-value (for the additional value which he adds to the commodities through his 
+expenses resolves itself into an addition of previously existing values, although the question here poses 
+itself, how he preserves this value of his constant capital?) it follows that the mercantile workers 
+employed by him in these same functions cannot directly create surplus-value for him. Here, as in the 
+case of productive labourers, we assume that wages are determined by the value of the labour-power, and 
+that, hence, the merchant does not enrich himself by depressing wages, so that he does not enter into his 
+cost account an advance for labour which he has paid only in part; in other words, that he does not enrich 
+himself through cheating his clerks, etc. 
+
+The difficulty as concerns mercantile wage-workers is by no means to explain how they produce direct 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 17 
+
+profits for their employer without creating any direct surplus-value (of which profit is but a transmuted 
+form). This question has, indeed, already been solved in the general analysis of commercial profits. Just 
+as industrial capital makes profit by selling labour embodied and realised in commodities, for which it 
+has not paid any equivalent, so merchant's capital derives profit from not paying in full to productive 
+capital for all the unpaid labour contained in the commodities (in commodities, in so far as capital 
+invested in their production functions as an aliquot part of the total industrial capital), and by demanding 
+payment for this unpaid portion still contained in the commodities when making a sale. The relation of 
+merchant's capital to surplus-value is different from that of industrial capital. The latter produces 
+surplus-value by directly appropriating the unpaid labour of others. The former appropriates a portion of 
+this surplus-value by having this portion transferred from industrial capital to itself. 
+
+It is only through its function of realising values that merchant's capital acts as capital in the process of 
+reproduction, and hence draws on the surplus-value produced by the total capital. The mass of the 
+individual merchant's profits depends on the mass of capital that he can apply in this process, and he can 
+apply so much more of it in buying and selling, the more the unpaid labour of his clerks. The very 
+function, by virtue of which the merchant ' s money becomes capital, is largely done through his 
+employees. The unpaid labour of these clerks, while it does not create surplus-value, enables him to 
+appropriate surplus-value, which, in effect, amounts to the same thing with respect to his capital. It is, 
+therefore, a source of profit for him. Otherwise commerce could never be conducted on a large scale, 
+capitalistically. 
+
+Just as the labourer's unpaid labour directly creates surplus-value for productive capital, so the unpaid 
+labour of the commercial wage-worker secures a share of this surplus-value for merchant's capital. 
+
+The difficulty lies here: Since the merchant's labour-time and labour do not create value, although they 
+secure for him a share of already produced surplus-value, how does the matter stand with the variable 
+capital which he lays out in purchasing commercial labour-power? Is this variable capital to be included 
+in the cost outlays of the advanced merchant's capital? If not, this appears to conflict with the law of 
+equalisation of the rate of profit; what capitalist would advance 150 if he could charge only 100 to 
+advanced capital? If so, it seems to conflict with the nature of merchant's capital, since this kind of 
+capital does not act as capital by setting in motion the labour of others, as industrial capital does, but 
+rather by doing its own work, i.e., performing the functions of buying and selling, this being precisely the 
+means and the reason why it receives a portion of the surplus-value produced by the industrial capital. 
+
+(We must therefore analyse the following points: the merchant's variable capital; the law of necessary 
+labour in the sphere of circulation; how the merchant's labour maintains the value of his constant capital; 
+the part played by merchant's capital in the process of reproduction as a whole; and, finally, the 
+duplication in commodity-capital and money-capital, on the one hand, and in commercial capital and 
+money-dealing capital on the other.) 
+
+If every merchant had only as much capital as he himself were able to turn over by his own labour, there 
+would be infinite fragmentation of merchant's capital. This fragmentation would increase in the same 
+proportion as productive capital raised production and operated with greater masses in the forward march 
+of the capitalist mode of production. Hence, an increasing disproportion of the two. Capital in the sphere 
+of circulation would become decentralised in the same proportion as it became centralised in the sphere 
+of production. The purely commercial business of the industrial capitalist, and thus his purely 
+commercial expenses, would expand infinitely thereby, for he would have to deal with, say, 1,000 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 17 
+
+merchants, instead of 100. Thus, the advantages of independently operating merchant's capital would 
+largely be lost. And not the purely commercial expenses alone, but also the other costs of circulation, 
+such as sorting, expressage, etc., would grow. This, as far as the industrial capital is concerned. Now let 
+us consider merchant's capital. Firstly, the purely commercial operations. It does not take more time to 
+deal with large figures than with small ones. It takes ten times as much time to make 10 purchases at 
+£100 each as it does to make one purchase at £1,000. It takes ten times as much correspondence, paper, 
+and postage, to correspond with 10 small merchants as it does with one large merchant. The clearly 
+defined division of labour in a commercial office, in which one keeps the books, another looks after 
+money matters, a third has charge of correspondence, one buys, another sells, a third travels, etc., saves 
+immense quantities of labour-time, so that the number of workers employed in wholesale commerce are 
+in no way related to the comparative size of the establishment. This is so, because in commerce much 
+more than in industry the same function requires the same labour-time, whether performed on a large or a 
+small scale. This is the reason why concentration appears earlier historically in the merchant's business 
+than in the industrial workshop. Further, regarding outlays in constant capital. One hundred small offices 
+cost incomparably more than one large office, 100 small warehouses more than a large one, etc. The 
+costs of transport, which enter the accounts of a commercial establishment at least as costs to be 
+advanced, grow with the fragmentation. 
+
+The industrial capitalist would have to lay out more in labour and in circulation costs in the commercial 
+part of his business. The same merchant's capital, when divided among many small capitalists, would, 
+owing to this fragmentation, require more labourers to perform its functions, and more merchant's capital 
+would, furthermore, be needed to turn over the same commodity-capital. 
+
+Suppose B is the entire merchant's capital directly applied in buying and selling commodities, and b the 
+corresponding variable capital paid out in wages to the commercial employees. Then B + b is smaller 
+than the total merchant's capital, B, would be if every merchant had to get along without assistants, hence 
+would invest nothing in b. However, we have not yet overcome the difficulty. 
+
+The selling price of the commodities must suffice 1) to pay the average profit on B + b. This is explained 
+if only by the fact that B + b is generally a reduction of the original B, representing a smaller merchant's 
+capital than would be required without b. But this selling price must suffice 2) to cover not only the 
+additional profit on b, but to replace also the paid wages, the merchant's variable capital = b. This last 
+consideration gives rise to the difficulty. Does b represent a new constituent of the price, or is it merely a 
+part of the profit made by means of B + b, which appears as wages only so far as the mercantile 
+wage-worker is concerned, and as concerns the merchant simply replaces variable capital? In the latter 
+case, the merchant's profit on his advanced capital B + b would just equal the profit due to B by virtue of 
+the general rate, plus b, which he pays out in the form of wages, but which does not itself yield a profit. 
+
+The crux of the matter is, indeed, to find the limits (mathematically speaking) of b. Let us first accurately 
+define the problem. Let B stand for capital invested directly in buying and selling commodities, K for the 
+constant capital (actual handling costs) consumed in this function, and b for the variable capital invested 
+by the merchant. 
+
+Recovering B offers no difficulties at all. For the merchant it is simply the realised purchase price, and 
+the price of production for the manufacturer. It is the price paid by the merchant, and in reselling he 
+recovers B as part of his selling price; in addition to this B, he makes a profit on B, as previously 
+explained. For example, let the commodity cost £100. Suppose the profit is 10%. In that case, the 
+
+
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+
+commodity is sold at 110. The commodity previously cost 100, and the merchant's capital of 100 merely 
+adds 10 to it. 
+
+Now if we look at K, it is at most as large as, but in fact smaller than, the portion of constant capital 
+which the producer would use up in buying and selling, but then it would form an addition to the constant 
+capital he requires directly in production. This portion, nonetheless, must be continually recovered in the 
+price of the commodity, or, what amounts to the same, a corresponding portion of the commodity must 
+be continually expended in this form, or, from the standpoint of the total capital of society, must be 
+continually reproduced in this form. This portion of the advanced constant capital would have a limiting 
+effect on the rate of profit, just as the entire mass of it directly invested in production. In so far as the 
+industrial capitalist leaves the commercial part of his business to the merchant, he need not advance this 
+part of the capital. The merchant advances it in his stead. In a way, he does this but nominally, since a 
+merchant neither produces, nor reproduces, the constant capital consumed by him (the actual handling 
+costs). Its production appears a separate business, or at least a part of the business, of some industrial 
+capitalists who thus play a role similar to those who supply constant capital to producers of necessities of 
+life. First, therefore, the merchant has this constant capital recovered for him and, secondly, receives his 
+profit on it. Through both of these, therefore, the industrial capitalist's profit is reduced. But owing to 
+economising and concentration which are bound up with division of labour, it shrinks less than it would 
+if he himself had to advance this capital. The reduction in the rate of profit is less, because the capital 
+thus advanced is less. 
+
+So far, then, the selling price is made up of B + K + the profit on B + K. This portion of it offers no 
+further difficulties. But now b, the variable capital advanced by the merchant, enters into it. 
+
+The resultant selling price is B + K + b + the profit on B + K + the profit on b. 
+
+B merely recovers the purchase price and adds nothing to it but the profit on B. K adds the profit on K, 
+and K itself; but K + the profit on K, the part of the circulation costs advanced in the form of constant 
+capital + the corresponding average profit, would be larger in the hands of the industrial capitalist than in 
+the merchant's. The shrinking of the average profit appears in the form of the full average profit 
+calculated after deducting B + K from the advanced industrial capital, with the deduction from the 
+average profit on B + K paid to the merchant, so that this deduction appears as the profit of a specific 
+capital, merchant's capital. 
+
+But the situation is different with respect to b + the profit on b, or, in the present case, where the rate of 
+profit is assumed = 10%, with b + 1/10 b. And the real difficulty lies here. 
+
+What the merchant buys with b is, according to our assumption, nothing but commercial labour, hence 
+labour required to perform the functions of circulating capital, C — M and M — C. But commercial 
+labour is the labour generally necessary for a capital to operate as merchant's capital, to help convert 
+commodities into money and money into commodities. It is labour which realises, but does not create, 
+values. And only in so far as a capital performs these functions — hence a capitalist performs these 
+operations, or this work with his capital — does it serve as merchant's capital and participate in 
+regulating the general rate of profit, i.e., draw its dividends out of the total profit. But (b + the profit on b) 
+appears to include, first, payment for labour (for it makes no difference whether the industrial capitalist 
+pays the merchant for his own labour, or the labour of the clerks paid by the merchant), and, secondly, 
+the profit on the payment for this labour, which the merchant would have to perform in person. First, 
+merchant's capital gets its b refunded, and, secondly, he makes the profit on it. This arises from the fact, 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 17 
+
+therefore, that, first, it requires payment for the work whereby it operates as merchant's capital, and that, 
+secondly, it demands the profit, because it operates as capital, i.e., because it performs work for which 
+profit is paid to it as functioning capital. This is, therefore, the question to be solved. 
+
+Let us assume that B = 100, b = 10, and the rate of profit = 10%. We take it that K = 0, in order to leave 
+out of consideration this element of the purchase price, which does not belong here and has already been 
+accounted for. Hence, the selling price would = B + p + b + p( = B + Bp' + b + bp'; where p stands for 
+the rate of profit) = 100 + 40 + 10 + 1 = 121. 
+
+But if b were not invested by the merchant in wages — since b is paid only for commercial labour, hence 
+labour required, to realise the value of the commodity — capital thrown on the market by industrial 
+capital — the matter would stand as follows: to buy or sell for B = 100, the merchant would devote his 
+time, and we wish to assume that this is the only time at his disposal. The commercial labour represented 
+by b, or 10, if paid for by profit instead of wages, would presuppose another merchant's capital = 100, 
+since at 10% this makes b = 10. This second B = 100 would not additionally go into the price of 
+commodities, but the 10% would. There would, hence, be two operations at 100 = 200, that would buy 
+commodities at 200 + 20 = 220. 
+
+Since merchant's capital is absolutely nothing but an individualised form of a portion of industrial capital 
+engaged in the process of circulation, all questions referring to it must he solved by representing the 
+problem primarily in a form; in which the phenomena peculiar to merchant's capital do not yet appear 
+independently, but still in direct connection with industrial capital, as a branch of it. As an office, distinct 
+from a workshop, mercantile capital operates continually in the circulation process. It is here — in the 
+office of the industrial capitalist himself — that we must first analyse the b now under consideration. 
+
+The office is from the outset always infinitesimally small compared to the industrial workshop. As for 
+the rest, it is clear that as the scale of production is extended, commercial operations required constantly 
+for the circulation of industrial capital, in order to sell the product existing as commodity-capital, to 
+reconvert the money so received into means of production, and to keep account of the whole process, 
+multiply accordingly. Calculation of prices, book-keeping, managing funds, correspondence-all belong 
+under this head. The more developed the scale of production, the greater, even if not proportionately 
+greater, the commercial operations of the industrial capital, and consequently the labour and other costs 
+of circulation involved, in realising value and surplus- value. This necessitates the employment of 
+commercial wage-workers who make up the actual office staff. The outlay for these, although made in 
+the form of wages, differs from the variable capital laid out in purchasing productive labour. It increases 
+the outlay of the industrial capitalist, the mass of the capital to be advanced, without directly increasing 
+surplus-value. Because it is an outlay for labour employed solely in realising value already created. Like 
+every other outlay of this kind, it reduces the rate of profit be-cause the advanced capital increases, but 
+not the surplus-value. If surplus-value s remains constant while advanced capital C increases to C + AC, 
+then the rate of profit s/C is replaced by the smaller rate of profit s/C + AC. The industrial capitalist 
+endeavours, therefore, to cut these expenses of circulation down to a minimum, just as his expenses for 
+constant capital. Hence, industrial capital does not maintain the same attitude to its commercial 
+wage-labourers as it does to its productive wage-labourers. The more productive wage-labourers it 
+employs under otherwise equal circumstances, the greater the output, and the greater the surplus-value, 
+or profit. Conversely, however, the larger the scale of production, the greater the quantity of value and 
+surplus-value to be realised, the greater the produced commodity-capital, the greater are the absolute, if 
+not relative, office costs, giving rise to a kind of division of labour. To what extent profit is the 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 17 
+
+precondition for these outlays, is seen, among other things, from the fact that with the increase of 
+commercial salaries, a part of them is frequently paid by a share in the profit. It is in the nature of things 
+that labour consisting merely of intermediate operations connected partly with calculating values, partly 
+with realising them, and partly with reconverting the realised money into means of production, is a 
+labour whose magnitude therefore depends on the quantity of the produced values that have to he 
+realised, and does not act as the cause, like directly productive labour, but rather as an effect, of the 
+respective magnitudes and masses of these values. The same applies to the other costs of circulation. To. 
+do much measuring, weighing, packing, and transporting, much must he on hand. The amount of 
+packing, transporting, etc., depends on the quantity of commodities which are the objects of this activity, 
+not vice versa. 
+
+The commercial worker produces no surplus-value directly. But the price of his labour is determined by 
+the value of his labour-power, hence by its costs of production, while the application of this 
+labour-power, its exertion, expenditure of energy, and wear and tear, is as in the ease of every other 
+wage-labourer by no means limited by its value. His wage, therefore, is not necessarily proportionate to 
+the mass of profit which he helps the capitalist to realise. What he costs the capitalist and what he brings 
+in for him, are two different things. He creates no direct surplus-value, but adds to the capitalist's income 
+by helping him to reduce the cost of realising surplus-value, inasmuch as he performs partly unpaid 
+labour. The commercial worker, in the strict sense of the term, belongs to the better-paid class of 
+wage-workers — to those whose labour is classed as skilled and stands above average labour. Yet the 
+wage tends to fall, even in relation to average labour, with the advance of the capitalist mode of 
+production. This is due partly to the division of labour in the office, implying a one-sided development of 
+the labour capacity, the cost of which does not fall entirely on the capitalist, since the labourer's skill 
+develops by itself through the exercise of his function, and all the more rapidly as division of labour 
+makes it more one-sided. Secondly, because the necessary training, knowledge of commercial practices, 
+languages, etc., is more and more rapidly, easily, universally and cheaply reproduced with the progress of 
+science and public education the more the capitalist mode of production directs teaching methods, etc., 
+towards practical purposes. The universality of public education enables capitalists to recruit such 
+labourers from classes that formerly had no access to such trades and were accustomed to a lower 
+standard of living. Moreover, this increases supply, and hence competition. With few exceptions, the 
+labour-power of these people is therefore devaluated with the progress of capitalist production. Their 
+wage falls, while their labour capacity increases. The capitalist increases the number of these labourers 
+whenever he has more value and profits to realise. The increase of this labour is always a result, never a 
+cause of more surplus- value. \2] 
+
+
+
+There is duplication, therefore. On the one hand, the functions as commodity-capital and money-capital 
+(hence further designated as merchant's capital) are general definite forms assumed by industrial capital. 
+On the other hand, specific capitals, and therefore specific groups of capitalists, are exclusively devoted 
+to these functions; and these functions thus develop into specific spheres of self-expansion of capital. 
+
+In the case of mercantile capital, the commercial functions and circulation costs are found only in 
+individualised form. That side of industrial capital which is devoted to circulation, continuously exists 
+not only in the shape of commodity-capital and money-capital, but also in the office alongside the 
+workshop. But it becomes independent in the case of mercantile capital. In the latter's case, the office is 
+its only workshop. The portion of capital employed in the form of circulation costs appears much larger 
+in the case of the big merchant than in that of the industrialist, because besides their own offices 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 17 
+
+connected with every industrial workshop, that part of capital which would have to be so applied by the 
+entire class of industrial capitalists is concentrated in the hands of a few merchants, who in carrying out 
+the functions of circulation also provide for the growing expenses incidental to their continuation. 
+
+To industrial capital the costs of circulation appear as unproductive expenses, and so they are. To the 
+merchant they appear as a source of his profit, proportional, given the general rate of profit, to their size. 
+The outlay to be made for these circulation costs is, therefore, a productive investment for mercantile 
+capital. And for this reason, the commercial labour which it buys is likewise immediately productive for 
+it. 
+
+
+
+FOOTNOTES 
+
+T 1 1 John Bellers [Essays about the Poor, Manufactures, Trade, Plantations, and Immorality, London, 
+1699, p. 10.— Ed.]. 
+
+\2] How well this forecast of the fate of the commercial proletariat, written in 1865, has stood the test of 
+time can be corroborated by hundreds of German clerks, who are trained in all commercial operations 
+and acquainted with three or four languages, and offer their services in vain in London City at 25 
+shillings per week, which is far below the wages of a good machine. A blank of two pages in the 
+manuscript indicates that this point was to have been treated at greater length. For the rest, we refer the 
+reader to Book II (Kap. VI.) ("The Costs of Circulation") [English edition: Vol. II, Ch. VI. — Ed.], 
+where various matters belonging under this head have already been discussed. — F.E. 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 18 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 18 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Part IV 
+
+CONVERSION OF COMMODITY-CAPITAL AND MONEY-CAPITAL 
+INTO COMMERCIAL CAPITAL AND MONEY-DEALING CAPITAL 
+(MERCHANT'S CAPITAL) 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 18 
+
+
+
+The Turnover of Merchant's Capital. Prices. 
+
+
+
+The turnover of industrial capital is a combination of its period of production and time of circulation, and 
+therefore embraces the entire process of production. The turnover of merchant's capital, on the other 
+hand, being in reality nothing but an alienated movement of commodity-capital, represents only the first 
+phase in the metamorphosis of a commodity, C — M, as the refluent movement of a specific capital; M — 
+C, C — M, is, from the mercantile point of view, the turnover of merchant's capital. The merchant buys, 
+converting his money into commodities, then sells, converting the latter back into money, and so forth in 
+constant repetition. Within circulation, the metamorphosis of industrial capital always presents itself in 
+the form of Cl — M — C2; the money realised by the sale of the produced commodity Cl is used to 
+purchase new means of production, C2. This amounts to a practical exchange of Cl for C2, and the same 
+money thus changes hands twice. Its movement mediates the exchange of two different kinds of 
+commodities, Cl and C2. But in the case of the merchant, it is, conversely, the same commodity which 
+changes hands twice in M — C — M'. It merely promotes the reflux of his money. 
+
+If, for example, a certain merchant's capital is £100, and for these £100 the merchant buys commodities 
+and sells them for £110, then his capital of £100 has completed one turnover, and the number of such 
+turnovers per year depends on the number of times this movement M — C — M' is repeated. 
+
+We here leave entirely out of consideration the costs which may be concealed in the difference between 
+the purchase price and the selling price, since these do not alter in any way the form, which we are now 
+analysing. 
+
+The number of turnovers of a given merchant's capital, therefore, is analogous in this case to the repeated 
+cycles of money as a mere medium of circulation. Just as the same thaler buys ten times its value in 
+commodities in making ten cycles, so the same money-capital of the merchant, when turned over ten 
+times, buys ten times its value in commodities, or realises a total commodity-capital of ten times its 
+value; a merchant's capital of 100, for instance, a ten-fold value = 1,000. But there is this difference: In 
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+
+the cycle of money as a medium of circulation it is the same piece of money that passes through different 
+hands, thus repeatedly performing the same function and hence making up for the mass of the circulating 
+pieces of money by its velocity. But in the merchant's case it is the same money capital, the same 
+money-value, regardless of what pieces of money it may be composed, which repeatedly buys and sells 
+commodity-capital to the amount of its value and which therefore returns to the same hands, the same 
+point of departure as M + AM, i.e., value plus surplus-value. This characterises its turnover as a capital 
+turnover. It always withdraws more money from circulation than it throws in. It is self-evident, at any 
+rate, that an accelerated turnover of merchant's capital (given a developed credit system, the function of 
+money as a means of payment predominates) implies a more rapid circulation of the same quantity of 
+money. 
+
+A repeated turnover of commercial capital, however, never connotes more than repeated buying and 
+selling; while a repeated turnover of industrial capital connotes the periodicity and renovation of the 
+entire reproduction process (which includes the process of consumption). For merchant's capital this 
+appears merely as an external condition. Industrial capital must continually bring commodities to the 
+market and withdraw them from it, in order that rapid turnover of merchant's capital may remain 
+possible. If the process of reproduction is slow, then so is the turnover of merchant's capital. True, 
+merchant's capital promotes the turnover of productive capital, but only in so far as it shortens its time of 
+circulation. It has no direct influence on the time of production, which is also a barrier to the period of 
+turnover of industrial capital. This is the first barrier for the turnover of merchant's capital. Secondly, 
+aside from the barrier formed by reproductive consumption, the turnover of merchant's capital is 
+ultimately limited by the velocity and volume of the total individual consumption, since all the 
+commodity-capital which is part of the consumption-fund depends on it. 
+
+However (aside from the turnovers in the world of commerce, in which one merchant always sells the 
+same commodity to another, and this sort of circulation may appear highly prosperous in times of 
+speculation), the merchant's capital, in the first place, curtails phase C — M for productive capital. 
+Secondly, under the modern credit system it disposes of a large portion of the total social money-capital, 
+so that it can repeat its purchases even before it has definitely sold what has. previously been purchased. 
+And it is immaterial in this case, whether our merchant sells directly to the ultimate consumer, or there 
+are a dozen other intermediate merchants between them. Owing to the immense elasticity of the 
+reproduction process, which may always be pushed beyond any given bounds, it does not encounter any 
+obstacle in production itself, or at best a very elastic one. Aside from the separation of C — M and M - 
+C, which follows from the nature of the commodities, a fictitious demand is then created. In spite of its 
+independent status, the movement of merchant's capital is never more than the movement of industrial 
+capital within the sphere of circulation. But by virtue of its independent status it moves, within certain 
+limits, independently of the bounds of the reproduction process and thereby even drives the latter beyond 
+its bounds. This internal dependence and external independence push merchant's capital to a point where 
+the internal connection is violently restored through a crisis. 
+
+Hence the phenomenon that crises do not come to the surface, do not break out, in the retail business 
+first, which deals with direct consumption, but in the spheres of wholesale trade, and of banking, which 
+places the money-capital of society at the disposal of the former. 
+
+The manufacturer may actually sell to the exporter, and the exporter, in his turn, to his foreign customer; 
+the importer may sell his raw materials to the manufacturer, and the latter may sell his products to the 
+wholesale merchant, etc. But at some particular imperceptible point the goods lie unsold, or else, again, 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 18 
+
+all producers and middlemen may gradually become overstocked. Consumption is then generally at its 
+highest, either because one industrial capitalist sets a succession of others in motion; or because the 
+labourers employed by them are fully employed and have more to spend than usual. The capitalists' 
+expenditures increase together with their growing income. Besides, as we have seen (Book II, Part III), 
+continuous circulation takes place between constant capital and constant capital (even regardless of 
+accelerated accumulation). It is at first independent of individual consumption because it never enters the 
+latter. But this consumption definitely limits it nevertheless, since constant capital is never produced for 
+its own sake but solely because more of it is needed in spheres of production whose products go into 
+individual consumption. However, this may go on undisturbed for some time, stimulated by prospective 
+demand, and in such branches, therefore, the business of merchants and industrialists goes briskly forth. 
+The crisis occurs when the returns of merchants who sell in distant markets (or whose supplies have also 
+accumulated on the home market) become so slow and meagre that the banks press for payment, or 
+promissory notes for purchased commodities become due before the latter have been resold. Then forced 
+sales take place, sales in order to meet payments. Then comes the crash, which brings the illusory 
+prosperity to an abrupt end. 
+
+But the superficiality and meaninglessness of the turnover of merchant's capital are still greater, because 
+the turnover of one and the same merchant's capital may simultaneously or successively promote the 
+turnovers of several productive capitals. 
+
+The turnover of merchant's capital does not just promote the turnovers of several industrial capitals, it 
+can also expedite the opposite phases of the metamorphosis of commodity-capital. For instance, the 
+merchant buys linen from the manufacturer and sells it to the bleacher. In this case, therefore the turnover 
+of the same merchant's capital-in fact, the same C — M, a realisation of the linen-represents two opposite 
+phases for two different industrial capitals. Inasmuch as the merchant sells for productive consumption, 
+his C — M is always M — C for one industrial capitalist, and his M — C always C — M for another 
+industrial capitalist. 
+
+If we leave out K, the circulation costs, as we do in this chapter, if, in other words, we leave aside that 
+portion of capital which the merchant advances along with the money required to purchase commodities, 
+it follows that we also omit AK, the additional profit made on this additional capital. This is thus the 
+strictly logical and mathematically correct mode of analysis if we want to see how profit and turnover of 
+merchant's capital affect prices. 
+
+If the price of production of 1 lb. of sugar were £1, the merchant could buy 100 lbs. of sugar with £400. 
+If he buys and sells this quantity in the course of the year, and if the average annual rate of profit is 15%, 
+he would add £15 to the £100, and 3s. to £1, the price of production of 1 lb. of sugar. That is, he would 
+sell 1 lb. of sugar at £1.3s. But if the price of production of 1 lb. of sugar should fall to Is., the merchant 
+could buy 2,000 lbs. of sugar with £100, and sell the sugar at Is. l4/5d. per lb. The annual profit on 
+capital invested in the sugar business would still be £15 on each £100. But the merchant has to sell 100 
+lbs. in the first case, and 2,000 lbs. in the second. The high or low level of the price of production has 
+nothing to do with the rate of profit. But it would greatly and decisively affect that aliquot part of the 
+selling price of each lb. of sugar, which resolves itself in mercantile profit, i.e., the addition to the price 
+which the merchant makes on a certain quantity of commodities or products. If the price of production of 
+a commodity is small, so, too, the amount the merchant advances in its purchase price, i.e., for a certain 
+quantity of it. Hence, with a given rate of profit, the amount of profit he makes on this quantity of cheap 
+commodities is small as well. Or, what amounts to the same, he can then buy with a certain amount of 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 18 
+
+capital, say, 400, a larger quantity of these cheap commodities, and the total profit of 15, which he makes 
+per 100, breaks up into small fractions over each individual piece or portion belonging to this mass of 
+commodities. If the opposite takes place, then the reverse is true. This depends entirely on the greater or 
+smaller productivity of the industrial capital in whose products he trades. If we except the cases in which 
+the merchant is a monopolist and simultaneously monopolises production, as did the Dutch East India 
+Company in its day, nothing can be more ridiculous than the current idea that it depends on the merchant 
+whether he sells many commodities at a small profit or few commodities at a large profit on each 
+individual piece of the commodities. The two limits of his selling price are: on the one hand, the price of 
+production of the commodities, over which he has no control; on the other hand, the average rate of 
+profit, over which he has just as little control. The only thing up to him to decide is whether he wants to 
+deal in dear or in cheap commodities, and even here the size of his available capital and other 
+circumstances also have their effect. Therefore, it depends wholly on the degree of development of the 
+capitalist mode of production, not on the merchant's goodwill, what course he shall follow. A purely 
+commercial company like the old Dutch East India Company, which had a monopoly of production, 
+could fancy that it could continue a method adapted at best to the beginnings of capitalist production, 
+under entirely changed conditions. £1] 
+
+The following circumstances, among others, help to maintain that popular prejudice, which, like all false 
+conceptions of profit, etc., arises from the observation of pure commerce and merchants' prejudice: 
+
+First : phenomena of competition, which, however, apply merely to the distribution of mercantile profit 
+among individual merchants, the shareholders of the total merchant's capital; if one, for example, sells 
+cheaper, in order to drive his competitors off the field. 
+
+Secondly: an economist of the calibre of Professor Roscher may still imagine in Leipzig that it was 
+"common sense and humanitarian" [Roscher, Die Grundlagen der Nationalokonomie, 3. Auflage, 1858, 
+S. 192. — Ed.] grounds, which produced the change in selling prices, and that it was not a result of a 
+revolutionised mode of production. 
+
+Thirdly: if production prices fall due to greater productivity of labour, and selling prices fall for the same 
+reason, the demand, and with it the market-prices, often rise even faster than the supply, so that selling 
+prices yield more than the average profit. 
+
+Fourthly: a merchant may reduce his selling price (which is never more than a reduction of the usual 
+profit that he adds to the price) so as to turn over a larger capital more rapidly. All these are matters that 
+only concern competition between the merchants themselves. 
+
+We have already shown in Book I [English edition: Vol. 1, pp. 519-20. — Ed], that high or low 
+commodity-prices do not determine either the mass of surplus-value produced by a given capital, or the 
+rate of surplus-value; although the price of a commodity, and with it the share of surplus- value in this 
+price, are greater or smaller, depending on the relative quantity of commodities produced by a given 
+quantity of labour. The prices of every specified quantity of a commodity are, so far as they correspond 
+to the values, determined by the total quantity of labour incorporated in this commodity. If little labour is 
+incorporated in much commodity, the unit price of the commodity is low and the surplus-value in it is 
+small. How this labour incorporated in a commodity breaks up into paid and unpaid labour and what 
+portion of its price, therefore, represents surplus-value, has nothing to do with this total quantity of 
+labour, nor, consequently, with the price of the commodity. But the rate of surplus-value does not depend 
+on the absolute magnitude of the surplus-value contained in the unit price of the commodity. It depends 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 18 
+
+on its relative magnitude, its proportion to the wages contained in the same commodity. The rate of 
+surplus-value may therefore be large, while the absolute magnitude of surplus-value in each unit of the 
+commodity is small. This absolute magnitude of surplus-value in each piece of the commodity depends 
+primarily on the productivity of labour, and only secondarily on its division into paid and unpaid labour. 
+
+Now, in the case of the commercial selling price, the price of production is a given external precondition. 
+
+The high commercial commodity-prices in former times were due 1) to the high prices of production, i.e., 
+the unproductiveness of labour; 2) to the absence of a general rate of profit, with merchant's capital 
+absorbing a much larger quota of surplus-value than would have fallen to its share if capitals enjoyed 
+greater general mobility. The ending of this situation, in both its aspects, is therefore the result of the 
+development of the capitalist mode of production. 
+
+The turnovers of merchant's capital vary in duration, their annual number consequently being greater or 
+smaller, in different branches of commerce. Within the same branch the turnover is more or less rapid in 
+the different phases of the economic cycle. Yet there is an average number of turnovers, determined by 
+experience. 
+
+We have already seen that the turnover of merchant's capital differs from that of industrial capital. This is 
+in the nature of things. One single phase in the turnover of industrial capital appears as a complete 
+turnover of an independently constituted merchant's capital, or yet of its part. It also stands in a different 
+relation to profit and price determination. 
+
+In the case of industrial capital, its turnover expresses, on the one hand, the periodicity of reproduction, 
+and, therefore, the mass of commodities thrown on the market in a certain period depends on it. On the 
+other hand, its time of circulation creates a barrier, an extensible one, and exerts more or less of a 
+restraint on the creation of value and surplus-value, because it affects the volume of the production 
+process. The turnover, therefore, acts as a determining element on the mass of annually produced 
+surplus-value, and hence on the formation of the general rate of profit, but it acts as a limiting, rather than 
+positive, element. For merchant's capital, on the contrary, the average rate of profit is a given magnitude. 
+The merchant's capital does not directly participate in creating profit or surplus-value, and joins in 
+shaping the general rate of profit only in so far as it draws a dividend proportionate to its share in the 
+total capital, out of the mass of profit produced by industrial capital. 
+
+The greater the number of turnovers of an industrial capital under conditions described in Book II, Part 
+II, the greater the mass of profit it creates. True, through the formation of a general rate of profit, the total 
+profit is distributed among the different capitals not in proportion to their actual part in its production, but 
+in proportion to the aliquot part they make up of the total capital, i.e., in proportion to their magnitude. 
+But this does not alter the essence of the matter. The greater the number of turnovers of the total 
+industrial capital, the greater the mass of profits, the mass of annually produced surplus-value, and, 
+therefore, other circumstances remaining unchanged, the rate of profit. It is different with merchant's 
+capital. The rate of profit is a given magnitude with respect to it, determined on the one hand by the mass 
+of profit produced by industrial capital, and on the other by the relative magnitude of the total merchant's 
+capital, by its quantitative relation to the sum of capital advanced in the processes of production and 
+circulation. The number of its turnovers does, indeed, decisively affect its relation to the total capital, or 
+the relative magnitude of merchant's capital required for the circulation, for it is evident that the absolute 
+magnitude of the required merchant's capital and the velocity of its turnovers stand in inverse proportion. 
+But, all other conditions remaining equal, the relative magnitude of merchant's capital, or the part it 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 18 
+
+makes up of the total capital, is determined by its absolute magnitude. If the total capital is 10,000, and 
+the merchant's capital 1/10 of that sum, it is = 1,000; if the total capital is 1,000, then 1/10 of it = 100. 
+The absolute magnitude of merchant's capital varies, depending on the magnitude of the total capital, 
+although its relative magnitude remains the same. But here we assume that its relative magnitude, say, 
+1/10 of the total capital, is given. This relative magnitude, however, is again determined by the turnover. 
+If it is turned over rapidly, its absolute magnitude, for example, will = £1,000 in the first case, = 100 in 
+the second, and hence its relative magnitude = 1/10. With a slower turnover its absolute magnitude is, 
+say, = 2,000 in the first case, and = 200 in the second. Its relative magnitude will then have increased 
+from 1/10 to 1/5 of the total capital. Circumstances which reduce the average turnover of merchant's 
+capital, like the development of means of transportation, for instance, reduce pro tanto the absolute 
+magnitude of merchant's capital, and thereby increase the general rate of profit. If the opposite takes 
+place, then the reverse is true. A developed capitalist mode of production, compared with earlier 
+conditions, exerts a two-fold influence on merchant's capital. On the one hand, the same quantity of 
+commodities is turned over with a smaller mass of actually functioning merchant's capital; owing to the 
+more rapid turnover of merchant's capital, and the more rapid reproduction process, on which this 
+depends, the relation of merchant's capital to industrial capital diminishes. On the other hand, with the 
+development of the capitalist mode of production all production becomes the production of commodities, 
+which places all products into the hands of agents of circulation. It is to be added that under the previous 
+mode of production, which produced on a small scale, a very large portion of the producers sold their 
+goods directly to the consumers, or worked on their personal orders, save for the mass of products 
+consumed directly, in kind, by the producer himself, and the mass of services performed in kind. While, 
+therefore, under former modes of production commercial capital was greater in relation to the 
+commodity-capital which it turned over, it was: 
+
+1) absolutely smaller, because a disproportionately smaller part of the total product was produced as 
+commodities, and passed as commodity-capital into circulation, falling into the hands of merchants. It 
+was smaller, because the commodity-capital was smaller. But at the same time it was proportionately 
+larger, not only because its turnover was slower and not only in relation to the mass of commodities 
+turned over by it. It was larger also because the price of this mass of commodities, and hence the 
+merchant's capital to be advanced for it, were greater than under capitalist production on account of a 
+lower productivity of labour, so that the same value was incorporated in a smaller mass of commodities. 
+
+2) It is not only that a larger mass of commodities is produced on the basis of capitalist production 
+(taking into account also the reduced value of this mass of commodities), but the same mass of products, 
+for instance, of corn, also forms a greater commodity mass, i.e., more and more of it becomes an object 
+of commerce. As a consequence, there is an increase not only of the mass of merchant's capital, but of all 
+capital applied in circulation, such as in marine shipping, railways, telegraph, etc. 
+
+3) However, and this is an aspect which belongs to the discussion of "competition among capitals": idle 
+or only half-functioning merchant's capital grows with the progress of the capitalist mode of production, 
+with the ease of entering retail trade, with speculation, and the redundance of released capital. 
+
+But, assuming the relative magnitude of merchant's capital to total capital to be given, the difference of 
+turnovers in the various branches of commerce does not affect either the magnitude of the total profit 
+falling to the share of merchant's capital, or the general rate of profit. The merchant's profit is not 
+determined by the mass of commodity-capital turned over by him, but by the dimensions of the 
+money-capital advanced by him to promote this turnover. If the general annual rate of profit is 15%, and 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 18 
+
+the merchant advances £100, which he turns over once a year, he will sell his commodities at 1 15. If his 
+capital turns over five times a year, he will sell a commodity-capital he bought at 100 at 403 five times a 
+year, hence in a year a commodity-capital of 500 at 515. This gives the same annual profit of 15 on his 
+advanced capital of 100. If this were not so, merchant's capital would yield a much higher profit, 
+proportionate to the number of its turnovers, than industrial capital, which would be in conflict with the 
+law of the general rate of profit. 
+
+Hence, the number of turnovers of merchant's capital in the various branches of commerce has a direct 
+influence on the mercantile prices of commodities. The amount added to the mercantile price, the aliquot 
+part of mercantile profit of a given capital, which falls upon the price of production of a commodity, is in 
+inverse proportion to the number of turnovers, or the velocity of turnover, of merchants' capitals in the 
+various lines of commerce. If a certain merchant's capital is turned over five times a year, it will add to a 
+commodity-capital of equal value but 1/5 of what another merchant's capital, which turns over just once a 
+year, adds to a commodity-capital of equal value. 
+
+The modification of selling prices by the average period of turnover of capitals in different branches of 
+commerce amounts to this: The same mass of profits, determined for any given magnitude of merchant's 
+capital by the general annual rate of profit, hence determined independently of the specific character of 
+the commercial operations of this capital, is differently distributed-proportionately to the rate of 
+turnover-over masses of commodities of equal value, so that, for instance, if a merchant's capital is 
+turned over five times a year, 15%/5 = 3% if once a year, 15%, is added to the price of the commodities. 
+
+The same percentage of commercial profit in different branches of commerce, therefore, increases the 
+selling prices of commodities by quite different percentages of their values, all depending on their 
+periods of turnover. 
+
+On the other hand, in the case of industrial capital, the period of turnover does not in any way affect the 
+magnitude of the value of individual commodities produced, although it does affect the mass of values 
+and surplus-values produced in a given time by a given capital, because it affects the mass of exploited 
+labour. This is concealed, to be sure, and seems to be otherwise as soon as one turns to prices of 
+production. But this is due solely to the fact that, according to previously analysed laws, the prices of 
+production of various commodities deviate from their values. If we look upon the process of production 
+as a whole, and upon the mass of commodities produced by the total industrial capital, we shall at once 
+find the general law vindicated. 
+
+While, therefore, a closer inspection of the influence of the period of turnover on the formation of values 
+by industrial capital leads us back to the general law and to the basis of political economy, that the values 
+of commodities are determined by the labour-time contained in them, the influence of the turnovers of 
+merchant's capital on mercantile prices reveals phenomena which, without benefit of a very far-reaching 
+analysis of the connecting links, seem to point to a purely arbitrary determination of prices; namely, that 
+they are fixed by a capital simply bent upon pocketing a certain quantity of profit in a year. Due 
+particularly to this influence of turnovers, it appears that within certain limits the process of circulation as 
+such determines commodity-prices independently of the process of production. All superficial and false 
+conceptions of the process of reproduction as a whole are derived from examinations of merchant's 
+capital and from the conceptions which its peculiar movements call forth in the minds of circulation 
+agents. 
+
+If, as the reader will have realised to his great dismay, the analysis of the actual intrinsic relations of the 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 18 
+
+capitalist process of production is a very complicated matter and very extensive; if it is a work of science 
+to resolve the visible, merely external movement into the true intrinsic movement, it is self-evident that 
+conceptions which arise about the laws of production in the minds of agents of capitalist production and 
+circulation will diverge drastically from these real laws and will merely be the conscious expression of 
+the visible movements. The conceptions of the merchant, stockbroker, and banker, are necessarily quite 
+distorted. Those of the manufacturers are vitiated by the acts of circulation to which their capital is 
+subject, and by the levelling of the general rate of profit.rJ[ Competition likewise assumes a completely 
+distorted role in their minds. If the limits of value and surplus-value are given, it is easy to grasp how 
+competition of capitals transforms values into prices of production and further into mercantile prices, and 
+surplus-value into average profit. But without these limits, it is absolutely unintelligible why competition 
+should reduce the general rate of profit to one level instead of another, e.g., make it 15% instead of 
+1,500%. Competition can at best only reduce the general rate of profit to one level. But it contains no 
+element by which it could determine this level itself. 
+
+From the standpoint of merchant's capital, therefore, it is the turnover which appears to determine prices. 
+On the other hand, while the rate of turnover of industrial capital, in so far as it enables a certain capital 
+to exploit more or less labour, exerts a determining and limiting influence on the mass of profit, and thus 
+on the general rate of profit, this rate of profit obtains for merchant's capital as an external fact, its 
+internal connection with the production of surplus-value being entirely obliterated. If, under otherwise 
+equal circumstances and particularly the same organic composition, the same industrial capital is turned 
+over four times a year instead of twice, it produces twice as much surplus-value and, consequently, 
+profit. And this is apparent as soon, and as long, as this capital has a monopoly on an improved method 
+of production, which makes this accelerated turnover possible. Conversely, differences in the periods of 
+turnover in different branches of commerce manifest themselves in the fact that profit made on the 
+turnover of a given commodity-capital is in inverse proportion to the number of times the money-capital 
+turns over this commodity-capital. Small profits and quick returns appear to the shopkeeper to be the 
+principle which he follows out of sheer principle. 
+
+For the rest, it is self-evident that regardless of alternating, mutually compensating, speedier and slower 
+turnovers, this law of turnover of merchant's capital holds good in each branch of commerce only for the 
+average turnovers made by the entire merchant's capital invested in each particular branch. The capital of 
+A, who deals in the same branch as B, may make more or less than the average number of turnovers. In 
+this case the others make less or more. This does not alter the turnover of the total mass of merchant's 
+capital invested in this line. But it is of decisive moment for the individual merchant or shopkeeper. In 
+this case he makes an extra profit, just as industrial capitalists make extra profits if they produce under 
+better than average conditions. If competition compels him, he can sell cheaper than his competitors 
+without lowering his profit below the average. If the conditions which would enable him to turn over his 
+capital more rapidly, are themselves for sale, such as a favourable shop location, he can pay extra rent for 
+it, i.e., convert a portion of his surplus-profit into ground-rent. 
+
+FOOTNOTES 
+
+T 1 1 "Profit, on the general principle, is always the same, whatever be price; keeping its place like an 
+incumbent body on the swelling or sinking tide. As, therefore, prices rise, a tradesman raises price; as 
+prices fall, a tradesman lowers price." (Corbet, An Inquiry into the Causes, etc., of the Wealth of 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 18 
+
+Individuals, London, 1841, p. 20.) Here, as in the text generally; it is only a matter of ordinary 
+commerce, not of speculation. The analysis of speculation, as well as everything else pertaining to the 
+division of mercantile capital, falls outside the field of our inquiry. "The profit of trade is a value added 
+to capital which is independent of price, the second" (speculation) "is founded on the variation in the 
+value of capital or in price itself" (1. c, p. 128). 
+
+\2] This is a very naive, but also a very correct remark: "Surely the fact that one and the same commodity 
+may be had from different sellers at considerably different prices is frequently due to mistakes of 
+calculation." (Feller and Odermann, Das Ganze der kaufmdnnischen Arithmetik, 7th ed., 1859, S.451.) 
+This shows how purely theoretical, that is, abstract, becomes the determination of prices. 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 19 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 19 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Part IV 
+
+CONVERSION OF COMMODITY-CAPITAL AND MONEY-CAPITAL 
+INTO COMMERCIAL CAPITAL AND MONEY-DEALING CAPITAL 
+(MERCHANT'S CAPITAL) 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 19 
+
+
+
+Money-Dealing Capital 
+
+
+
+The purely technical movements performed by money in the circulation process of industrial, and, as we 
+may now add, of commercial capital (since it takes over a part of the circulation movement of industrial 
+capital as its own, peculiar movement), if individualised as a function of some particular capital 
+performing just these, and only these, operations as its specific operations, convert this capital into 
+money-dealing capital. A portion of industrial capital, and, more precisely, also of commercial capital, 
+not only obtains all the time in the form of money, as money-capital in general, but as money-capital 
+engaged precisely in these technical functions. A definite part of the total capital dissociates itself from 
+the rest and stands apart in the form of money-capital, whose capitalist function consists exclusively in 
+performing these operations for the entire class of industrial and commercial capitalists. As in the case of 
+commercial capital, a portion of industrial capital engaged in the circulation process in the form of 
+money-capital separates from the rest and performs these operations of the reproduction process for all 
+the other capital. The movements of this money-capital are, therefore, once more merely movements of 
+an individualised part of industrial capital engaged in the reproduction process. 
+
+It is only when, and in so far as, capital is newly invested — which also applies to accumulation — that 
+capital in money-form appears as the starting-point and the end result of the movement. But for all 
+capitals already engaged in the process, these first and last points appear merely as points of transit. 
+Since, as already seen in the case of simple commodity-circulation, from the moment of leaving the 
+sphere of production to the moment of its re-entry industrial capital undergoes the metamorphosis C — M 
+— C, M in fact represents the end result of one phase of the metamorphosis, just to become the 
+starting-point of the reverse phase, which supplements it. And although the C — M of industrial capital is 
+always M — C — M for merchant's capital, the actual process for the latter is continually also C — M — C 
+once it has begun to function. But it performs the acts C — M and M — C simultaneously. This is to say 
+that there is not just one capital in the stage C — M while another is in the stage M — C, but that the same 
+capital buys continually and sells continually at one and the same time because of the continuity of the 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 19 
+
+production process. It is to be found always in both stages at one and the same time. While one of its 
+parts turns into money, later to be reconverted into commodities, another turns simultaneously into 
+commodities, to be reconverted into money. 
+
+It all depends on the form of the commodity exchange whether the money serves here as a means of 
+circulation or of payment. In both cases the capitalist has to pay out money constantly to many persons, 
+and to receive money continually from many persons. This purely technical operation of disbursing and 
+receiving money is in itself labour which, as long as the money serves as a means of payment, 
+necessitates drawing up payment balances and acts of balancing accounts. This labour is a cost of 
+circulation, i.e., not labour creating value. It is shortened in being carried out by a special section of 
+agents, or capitalists, for the rest of the capitalist class. 
+
+A definite portion of the capital must be on hand constantly as a hoard, as potential money-capital — a 
+reserve of means of purchase, a reserve of means of payment, and idle capital in the form of money 
+waiting to be put to work. Another portion streams back continually in this form. Aside from collecting, 
+paying, and book-keeping, this entails safekeeping the hoard, which is an operation all in itself. It is, 
+indeed, a continuous conversion of the hoard into means of circulation and means of payment, and its 
+restoration by means of money secured through sales and from payments due. This constant movement 
+of the part of capital existing as money, dissociated from the function of capital itself, this purely 
+technical function, causes its own labour and expense, classified as costs of circulation. 
+
+The division of labour brings it about that these technical operations, dependent upon the functions of 
+capital, should be performed for the entire capitalist class as much as possible by a special section of 
+agents or capitalists as their exclusive function — or that these operations should be concentrated in their 
+hands. We have here, as in merchant's capital, division of labour in a two-fold sense. It becomes a 
+specialised business, and because performed as a specialised business for the money-mechanism of the 
+whole class, it is concentrated and conducted on a large scale. A further division of labour takes place 
+within it, both through division into various independent branches, and through segmentation of work 
+within these branches (large offices, numerous book-keepers and cashiers, and far-reaching division of 
+labour). Paying and receiving money, settling accounts, keeping current accounts, storing money, etc. — 
+all this, dissociated from the acts necessitating these technical operations, makes money-dealing capital 
+of the capital advanced for these functions. 
+
+The various operations, whose individualisation into specific businesses gives rise to the money trade, 
+spring from the different purposes of money itself and from its functions, which capital in its 
+money-form must therefore likewise carry out. 
+
+I have pointed out earlier that finance developed originally from the exchange of products between 
+different communities. \ 11 
+
+Trading in money, commerce in the money-commodity, first developed therefore out of international 
+commerce. Ever since different national coins have existed merchants buying in foreign countries have 
+had to exchange their national coins for local coins, and vice versa, or to exchange different coins for 
+uncoined pure silver or gold — the world-money. Hence the exchange business which is to be regarded as 
+one of the natural foundations of modern finance.rj[ Out of it developed banks of exchange, in which 
+silver (or gold) serves as world-money — now called bank money or commercial money — as distinct 
+from currency. Exchange transactions, in the sense of mere notes of payment to travellers from a 
+money-changer in one country to a changer in another country, developed back in Rome and Greece out 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 19 
+
+of the actual money-changing. 
+
+Trading in gold and silver as commodities (raw materials for the making of luxury articles) is the natural 
+basis of the bullion trade, or the trade which acts as a medium for the functions of money as universal 
+money. These functions, as previously explained (Buch I, Kap. Ill, 3, c [ English edition: Ch. Ill, 3, c. -- 
+Ed.]), are two-fold: currency movement back and forth between the various national spheres of 
+circulation in order to balance international payments and in connection with the migrations of capital in 
+quest of interest; simultaneously, flow of precious metals from their sources of production via the 
+world-market and their distribution among the various national spheres of circulation. Goldsmiths acted 
+as bankers still during the greater part of the 17th century in England. We shall completely disregard the 
+way in which the balancing of international accounts developed further in the bill jobbing, etc., and 
+everything referring to transactions in valuable papers; in short, we shall leave out of consideration all 
+special forms of the credit system, which do not as yet concern us here. 
+
+National money discards its local character in the capacity of universal money; one national currency is 
+expressed in another, and thus all of them are finally reduced to their content of gold or silver, while the 
+latter, being the two commodities circulating as world-money, are simultaneously reduced to their 
+reciprocal value-ratio, which changes continually. It is this intermediate operation which the money 
+trader makes his special occupation. Money-changing and the bullion trade are thus the original forms of 
+the money trade, and spring from the two-fold functions of money-as national money and world-money. 
+
+The capitalist process of production, just as commerce in general, even under pre-capitalist methods, 
+imply: 
+
+First, the accumulation of money as a hoard, i.e., here as that part of capital which must always be on 
+hand in the form of money as a reserve fund of means of payment and purchase. This is the first form of 
+a hoard, as it reappears under the capitalist mode of production, and as it appears generally with the 
+development of merchant's capital, at least for the purposes of this capital. Both remarks apply to 
+national, as well as international, circulation. The hoard is in continuous flux, pours ceaselessly into 
+circulation, and returns ceaselessly from it. The second form of a hoard is that of idle, temporarily 
+unemployed capital in the shape of money, including newly accumulated and not yet invested 
+money-capital. The functions entailed by this formation of a hoard are primarily those of safekeeping, 
+bookkeeping, etc. 
+
+Secondly, however, this involves outlays of money for purchases, collecting money from sales, making 
+and receiving payments, balancing payments, etc. The money-dealer performs all these services at first as 
+a simple cashier of the merchants and industrial capitalists. "J3] 
+
+The money trade becomes fully developed, even in its first stages, as soon as its ordinary functions are 
+supplemented by lending and borrowing and by credit. Of this more in the next part, which deals with 
+interest-bearing capital. 
+
+The bullion trade itself, the transfer of gold or silver from one country to another, is merely the result of 
+trading in commodities. It is determined by the rate of exchange which expresses the standing of 
+international payments and the interest rates in the different markets. The bullion trader as such acts 
+merely as an intermediary of the results. 
+
+In discussing money and the way its movements and forms develop out of simple commodity-circulation, 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 19 
+
+we saw (Book 1 Ch. Ill) that the movements of the mass of money circulating as means of purchase and 
+payment depend on the metamorphosis of commodities, on the volume and velocity of this 
+metamorphosis, which we now know to be but a phase in the entire process of reproduction. As for 
+securing the money materials — gold and silver — from their sources of production, this resolves itself 
+into a direct exchange of commodities, an exchange of gold and silver as commodities for other 
+commodities. Hence, it is itself as much a phase of the exchange of commodities as the securing of iron 
+or other metals. However, so far as the movement of precious metals on the world-market is concerned 
+(we here leave aside movements expressing the transfer of capital by loans — a type of transfer which 
+also obtains in the shape of commodity-capital), it is quite as much determined by the international 
+exchange of commodities as the movement of money as a national means of purchase and payment is 
+determined by the exchange of commodities in the home market. The inflow and outflow of precious 
+metals from one national sphere of circulation to another, inasmuch as this is caused merely by a 
+depreciation of the national currency, or by a double standard, are alien to money circulation as such and 
+merely represent corrections of deviations brought about arbitrarily by state decrees. Finally, as concerns 
+the formations of hoards which constitute reserve funds for means of purchase and payment, be it for 
+home or foreign trade, and which also merely represent a form of temporarily idle capital, they are in 
+both cases necessary precipitates of the circulation process. 
+
+If the entire circulation of money is in volume, form and movement purely a result of 
+commodity-circulation, which, in its turn, from the capitalist point of view, is only the circulation process 
+of capital (also embracing the exchange of capital for revenue, and of revenue for revenue, so far as 
+outlay of revenue is effected through retail trade), it is self-evident that dealing in money does not merely 
+promote the circulation of money, a mere result and phenomenon of commodity-circulation. This 
+circulation of money itself, a phase in commodity-circulation, is taken for granted in money-dealing. 
+What the latter promotes is merely the technical operations of money circulation which it concentrates, 
+shortens, and simplifies. Dealing in money does not form the hoards. It provides the technical means by 
+which the formation of hoards may, so far as it is voluntary (hence, not an expression of unemployed 
+capital or of disturbances in the reproduction process), be reduced to its economic minimum because, if 
+managed for the capitalist class as a whole, the reserve funds of means of purchase and payment need not 
+be as large as they would have to be if each capitalist were to manage his own The money-dealers do not 
+buy the precious metals. They merely handle their distribution as soon as the commodity trade has 
+bought them. They facilitate the settling of balances, inasmuch as money serves as the means of 
+payment, and reduce through the artificial mechanism of these settlements the amount of money required 
+for this purpose. But they do not determine either the connections, or the volume, of the mutual 
+payments. The bills of exchange and the cheques, for instance, which are exchanged for one another in 
+banks and clearing houses, represent quite independent transactions and are the results of given 
+operations, and it is merely a question of a better technical settlement of these results. So far as money 
+circulates as a means of purchase, the volume and number of purchases and sales have no connection 
+whatever with money-dealing. The latter can do no more than shorten the technical operations that go 
+with buying and selling, and thus reduce the amount of cash money required to turn over the 
+commodities. 
+
+Money-dealing in its pure form, which we consider here, i.e., set apart from the credit system, is thus 
+concerned only with the technique of a certain phase of commodity-circulation, namely, that of money 
+circulation and the different functions of money arising in its circulation. 
+
+This substantially distinguishes dealing in money from the dealing in commodities, which promotes the 
+
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+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 19 
+
+metamorphosis of commodities and their exchange, or even gives this process of the commodity-capital 
+the appearance of a process of a capital set apart from industrial capital. While, therefore, commercial 
+capital has its own form of circulation, M — C — M, in which the commodity changes bands twice and 
+thus provides a reflux of money, as distinct from C — M — C, in which money changes hands twice and 
+thus promotes commodity exchange, there is no such special form in the case of money-dealing capital. 
+
+In so far as money-capital is advanced by a separate class of capitalists in this technical promotion of 
+money circulation — a capital which on a reduced scale represents the additional capital the merchants 
+and industrial capitalists would otherwise have to advance themselves for these purposes-the general 
+form of capital, M — M', occurs here as well. By advancing M, the advancing capitalist secures M + AM. 
+But promotion of M — M' does not here concern the material, but only the technical, processes of the 
+metamorphosis. 
+
+It is evident that the mass of money-capital with which the money-dealers operate is the money-capital of 
+merchants and industrial capitalists in the process of circulation, and that the money-dealers' operations 
+are actually operations of merchants and industrial capitalists, in which they act as middlemen. 
+
+It is equally evident that the money-dealers' profit is nothing but a deduction from the surplus-value, 
+since they operate with already realised values (even when realised in the form of creditors' claims). 
+
+Just as in the commodity trade, there is a duplication of functions, because a part of the technical 
+operations connected with money circulation must be carried out by the dealers and producers of 
+commodities themselves. 
+
+
+
+FOOTNOTES 
+
+\l] Zur Kritik der politischen Oekonomie, S. 27. 
+
+[2J "The great differences among coins as concerns their grain and coinage by many princes and towns 
+that were privileged to coin money, necessitated the creation of business establishments to enable 
+merchants to use local money wherever compensation for the different coins was required. To be able to 
+make cash payments, merchants who travelled to a foreign market provided themselves with uncoined 
+pure silver, or gold. In the same way they exchanged money received in local markets for uncoined silver 
+or gold when returning home. The business of exchanging money, the exchange of uncoined precious 
+metals for local coins, and vice versa, thus became a widespread and paying business." (Hullmann, 
+Stadtewesen des Mittelalters. Bonn, 1826-29, 1, S. 437-38.) "Banks of exchange do not owe their name to 
+the fact that they issue bills of exchange... but to the fact that they used to exchange coins. Long before 
+the establishment of the Amsterdam Bank of Exchange in 1609, there existed in the Dutch merchant 
+towns money-changers and exchange houses, even exchange banks... The business of these 
+money-changers consisted in exchanging the numerous varieties of coin brought into the country by 
+foreign traders for the currency of the realm. Gradually their circle of activity extended... They became 
+the bankers and cashiers of their times. But the government of Amsterdam viewed as dangerous the 
+combination of cashier and exchange businesses, and to meet this danger it was resolved to establish a 
+large chartered institution able to perform both the cashier and exchange operations. This institution was 
+the famous Amsterdam Bank of Exchange of 1609. In like manner, the exchange banks of Venice, 
+Genoa, Stockholm, Hamburg, owe their origin to the continual necessity of changing money. Of all 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 19 
+
+these, the Hamburg Exchange is the only one today still doing business, because the need for such an 
+institution is still felt in that merchants' town, which has no Mint of its own, etc." (S. Vissering, 
+Handboek van Praktische Staathuishoudkunde, Amsterdam, 1860-61, 1, 247-48.) 
+
+[31 "The institution of cashier has probably nowhere preserved its original independent character so pure 
+as in the Dutch merchant towns" (cf. on the origin of the cashier business in Amsterdam. E. Lusac, 
+Holland's Rykdom, Part III). "Its functions coincide in part with those of the old Amsterdam Bank of 
+Exchange. The cashier receives from the merchants, who employ his services, a certain amount of 
+money, for which he opens a 'credit for them in his books. Later, they send him their claims, which he 
+collects for them and credits to their account. At the same time, he makes payments on their drafts 
+(kassiers briefes) and charges the amounts to their account. He makes a small charge for these receipts 
+and payments, which yields him a remuneration for his labours only corresponding to the size of the 
+turnover accomplished between the two parties. If payments are to be balanced between two merchants, 
+who both deal with the same cashier, such payments are settled very simply by mutual entries in the 
+books, for the cashiers balance their mutual claims from day to day. The cashier's actual business thus 
+consists basically of this mediation in payments. Therefore, it excludes industrial enterprises, speculation, 
+and opening of unlimited credits; for it must be the rule in this business that the cashier makes no 
+payment over and above the credit of any one keeping an account with him." (Vissering, loc. cit., p. 434.) 
+Re the banking associations of Venice: "The requirements and locality of Venice, where carrying bullion 
+was less convenient than in other places, induced the large merchants of that city to found banking 
+associations under due safeguards, supervision and management. Members of such associations 
+deposited certain sums, on which they drew drafts for their creditors, whereupon the paid sum was 
+deducted from the debtor's account on the page of the book reserved for that Purpose and added to the 
+sum credited in the same book to the creditor. This is the earliest beginning of the so-called giro banks. 
+These associations are indeed old. But if attributed to the 12th century, they are being confounded with 
+the State Loan Institute established in 1171." (Hiillmann, Loc. cit., pp. 453-54.) 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 20 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 20 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Part IV 
+
+CONVERSION OF COMMODITY-CAPITAL AND MONEY-CAPITAL 
+INTO COMMERCIAL CAPITAL AND MONEY-DEALING CAPITAL 
+(MERCHANT'S CAPITAL) 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 20 
+
+
+
+Historical Facts about Merchant's Capital 
+
+
+
+The particular form in which commercial and money-dealing capitals accumulate money will be 
+discussed in the next part. 
+
+It is self-evident from what has gone before that nothing could be more absurd than to regard merchant's 
+capital, whether in the shape of commercial or of money-dealing capital, as a particular variety of 
+industrial capital, such as, say, mining, agriculture, cattle-raising, manufacturing, transport, etc., which 
+are side lines of Industrial capital occasioned by the division of social labour, and hence different spheres 
+of investment. The simple observation that in the circulation phase of its reproduction process every 
+industrial capital performs as commodity-capital and as money-capital the very functions which appear 
+as the exclusive functions of the two forms of merchant's capital, should rule out such a crude notion. On 
+the other hand, in commercial and money-dealing capital the differences between industrial capital as 
+productive capital and the same capital in the sphere of circulation are individualised through the fact that 
+the definite forms and functions which capital assumes for the moment appear as independent forms and 
+functions of a separate portion of the capital and are exclusively bound up with it. The transmuted form 
+of industrial capital and the material differences between productive capitals applied in different 
+branches of industry, which arise from the nature of these various branches, are worlds apart. 
+
+Aside from the crudity with which the economist generally considers distinctions of form, which really 
+concern him only from their substantive side, this misconception by the vulgar economist is explained on 
+two additional counts. First, his inability to explain the peculiar nature of mercantile profit; and, 
+secondly, his apologetic endeavours to deduce commodity-capital and money-capital, and later 
+commercial capital and money-dealing capital as forms arising necessarily from the process of 
+production as such, whereas they are due to the specific form of the capitalist mode of production, which 
+above all presupposes the circulation of commodities, and hence of money, as its basis. 
+
+If commercial capital and money-dealing capital do not differ from grain production any more than this 
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+
+differs from cattle-raising and manufacturing, it is plain as day that production and capitalist production 
+are altogether identical, and that, among other things, the distribution of the social products among the 
+members of a society, be it for productive or individual consumption, must just as consistently be 
+handled by merchants and bankers as the consumption of meat by cattle-raising and that of clothing by 
+their manufacture. \l] 
+
+The great economists, such as Smith, Ricardo, etc., are perplexed over mercantile capital being a special 
+variety, since they consider the basic form of capital, capital as industrial capital, and circulation capital 
+(commodity-capital and money-capital) solely because it is a phase in the reproduction process of every 
+capital. The rules concerning the formation of value, profit, etc., immediately deduced by them from their 
+study of industrial capital, do not extend directly to merchant's capital. For this reason, they leave 
+merchant's capital entirely aside and mention it only as a kind of industrial capital. Wherever they make a 
+special analysis of it, as Ricardo does in dealing with foreign trade, they seek to demonstrate that it 
+creates no value (and consequently no surplus-value). But whatever is true of foreign trade, is also true of 
+home trade. 
+
+
+
+Hitherto we have considered merchant's capital merely from the standpoint, and within the limits, of the 
+capitalist mode of production. However, not commerce alone, but also merchant's capital, is older than 
+the capitalist mode of production, is, in fact, historically the oldest free state of existence of capital. 
+
+Since we have already seen that money-dealing and the capital advanced for it require nothing more for 
+their development than the existence of wholesale commerce, and further of commercial capital, it is 
+only the latter which we must occupy ourselves with here. 
+
+Since merchant's capital is. penned in the sphere of circulation, and since its function consists exclusively 
+of promoting the exchange of commodities, it requires no other conditions for its existence — aside from 
+the undeveloped forms arising from direct barter — outside those necessary for the simple circulation of 
+commodities and money. Or rather, the latter is the condition of its existence. No matter what the basis 
+on which products are produced, which are thrown into circulation as commodities — whether the basis 
+of the primitive community, of slave production, of small peasant and petty bourgeois, or the capitalist 
+basis, the character of products as commodities is not altered, and as commodities they must pass through 
+the process of exchange and its attendant changes of form. The extremes between which merchant's 
+capital acts as mediator exist for it as given, just as they are given for money and for its movements. The 
+only necessary thing is that these extremes should be on hand as commodities, regardless of whether 
+production is wholly a production of commodities, or whether only the surplus of the independent 
+producers' immediate needs, satisfied by their own production, is thrown on the market. Merchant's 
+capital promotes only the movements of these extremes, of these commodities, which are preconditions 
+of its own existence. 
+
+The extent to which products enter trade and go through the merchants' hands depends on the mode of 
+production, and reaches its maximum in the ultimate development of capitalist production, where the 
+product is produced solely as a commodity, and not as a direct means of subsistence. On the other hand, 
+on the basis of every mode of production, trade facilitates the production of surplus-products destined for 
+exchange, in order to increase the enjoyments, or the wealth, of the producers (here meant are the owners 
+of the products). Hence, commerce imparts to production a character directed more and more towards 
+exchange- value. 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 20 
+
+The metamorphosis of commodities, their movement, consists 1) materially, of the exchange of different 
+commodities for one another, and 2) formally, of the conversion of commodities into money by sale, and 
+of money into commodities by purchase. And the function of merchant's capital resolves itself into these 
+very acts of buying and selling commodities. It therefore merely promotes the exchange of commodities; 
+yet this exchange is not to he conceived at the outset as a bare exchange of commodities between direct 
+producers. Under slavery, feudalism and vassalage (so far as primitive communities are concerned) it is 
+the slave-owner, the feudal lord, the tribute-collecting state, who are the owners, hence sellers, of the 
+products. The merchant buys and sells for many. Purchases and sales are concentrated in his hands and 
+consequently are no longer bound to the direct requirements of the buyer (as merchant). 
+
+But whatever the social organisation of the spheres of production whose commodity exchange the 
+merchant promotes, his wealth exists always in the form of money, and his money always serves as 
+capital. Its form is always M — C — M'. Money, the independent form of exchange-value, is the point of 
+departure, and increasing the exchange-value an end in itself. Commodity exchange as such and the 
+operations effecting it-separated from production and performed by non-producers-are just a means of 
+increasing wealth not as mere wealth, but as wealth in its most universal social form, as exchange- value. 
+The compelling motive and determining purpose are the conversion of M into M + AM. The transactions 
+M — C and C — M', which promote M-M', appear merely as stages of transition in this conversion of M 
+into M + AM. This M — C — M', the characteristic movement of merchant's capital, distinguishes it from 
+C — M — C, trade in commodities directly between producers, which has for its ultimate end the 
+exchange of use-values. 
+
+The less developed the production, the more wealth in money is concentrated in the hands of merchants 
+or appears in the specific form of merchants' wealth. 
+
+Within the capitalist mode of production — i.e., as soon as capital has established its sway over 
+production and imparted to it a wholly changed and specific form — merchant's capital appears merely as 
+a capital with a specific function. In all previous modes of production, and all the more, wherever 
+production ministers to the immediate wants of the producer, merchant's capital appears to perform the 
+function par excellence of capital. 
+
+There is, therefore, not the least difficulty in understanding why merchant's capital appears as the 
+historical form of capital long before capital established its own domination over production. Its 
+existence and development to a certain level are in themselves historical premises for the development of 
+capitalist production 1) as premises for the concentration of money wealth, and 2) because the capitalist 
+mode of production presupposes production for trade, selling on a large scale, and not to the individual 
+customer, hence also a merchant who does not buy to satisfy his personal wants but concentrates the 
+purchases of many buyers in his one purchase. On the other hand, all development of merchant's capital 
+tends to give production more and more the character of production for exchange-value and to turn 
+products more and more into commodities. Yet its development, as we shall presently see, is incapable 
+by itself of promoting and explaining the transition from one mode of production to another. 
+
+Within capitalist production merchant's capital is reduced from its former independent existence to a 
+special phase in the investment of capital, and the levelling of profits reduces its rate of profit to the 
+general average. It functions only as an agent of productive capital. The special social conditions that 
+take shape with the development of merchant's capital, are here no longer paramount. On the contrary, 
+wherever merchant's capital still predominates we find backward conditions. This is true even within one 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 20 
+
+and the same country, in which, for instance, the specifically merchant towns present far more striking 
+analogies with past conditions than industrial towns. [2] 
+
+The independent and predominant development of capital as merchant's capital is tantamount to the 
+non-subjection of production to capital, and hence to capital developing on the basis of an alien social 
+mode of production which is also independent of it. The independent development of merchant's capital, 
+therefore, stands in inverse proportion to the general economic development of society. 
+
+Independent mercantile wealth as a predominant form of capital represents the separation of the 
+circulation process from its extremes, and these extremes are the exchanging producers themselves. They 
+remain independent of the circulation process, just as the latter remains independent of them. The 
+product becomes a commodity by way of commerce. It is commerce which here turns products into 
+commodities, not the produced commodity which by its movements gives rise to commerce. Thus, 
+capital appears here first as capital in the process of circulation. It is in the circulation process that money 
+develops into capital. It is in circulation that products first develop as exchange-values, as commodities 
+and as money. Capital can, and must, form in the process of circulation, before it learns to control its 
+extremes — the various spheres of production between which circulation mediates. Money and 
+commodity circulation can mediate between spheres of production of widely different organisation, 
+whose internal structure is still chiefly adjusted to the output of use-values. This individualisation of the 
+circulation process, in which spheres of production are interconnected by means of a third, has a two-fold 
+significance. On the one hand, that circulation has not as yet established a hold on production, but is 
+related to it as to a given premise. On the other hand, that the production process has not as yet absorbed 
+circulation as a mere phase of production. Both, however, are the case in capitalist production. The 
+production process rests wholly upon circulation, and circulation is a mere transitional phase of 
+production, in which the product created as a commodity is realised and its elements of production, 
+likewise created as commodities, are replaced. That form of capital — merchant's capital — which 
+developed directly out of circulation appears here merely as one of the forms of capital occurring in its 
+reproduction process. 
+
+The law that the independent development of merchant's capital is inversely proportional to the degree of 
+development of capitalist production is particularly evident in the history of the carrying trade, as among 
+the Venetians, Genoese, Dutch, etc., where the principal gains were not thus made by exporting domestic 
+products, but by promoting the exchange of products of commercially and otherwise economically 
+undeveloped societies, and by exploiting both producing countries.JT[ Here, merchant's capital is in its 
+pure form, separated from the extremes — the spheres of production between which it mediates. This is 
+the main source of its development. But this monopoly of the carrying trade disintegrates, and with it this 
+trade itself, proportionately to the economic development of the peoples, whom it exploits at both ends of 
+its course, and whose lack of development was the basis of its existence. In the case of the carrying trade 
+this appears not only as the decline of a special branch of commerce, but also that of the predominance of 
+the purely trading nations, and of their commercial wealth in general, which rested upon the carrying 
+trade. This is but a special form, in which is ex-pressed the subordination of merchants to industrial 
+capital with the advance of capitalist production. The behaviour of merchant's capital wherever it rules 
+over production is strikingly illustrated not only by the colonial economy (the so-called colonial system) 
+in general, but quite specifically by the methods of the old Dutch East India Company. 
+
+Since the movement of merchant's capital is M — C — M', the merchant's profit is made, first, in acts 
+which occur only within the circulation process, hence in the two acts of buying and selling; and, 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 20 
+
+secondly, it is realised in the last act, the sale. It is therefore profit upon alienation. Prima facie, a pure 
+and independent commercial profit seems impossible so long as products are sold at their value. To buy 
+cheap in order to sell dear is the rule of trade. Hence, not the exchange of equivalents. The conception of 
+value is included in it in so far as the various commodities are all values, and therefore money, in respect 
+to quality they are all expressions of social labour. But they are not values of equal magnitude. The 
+quantitative ratio in which products are exchanged is at first quite arbitrary. They assume the form of 
+commodities inasmuch as they are exchangeables, i.e., expressions of one and the same third. Continued 
+exchange and more regular reproduction for exchange reduces this arbitrariness more and more. But at 
+first not for the producer and consumer, but for their go-between, the merchant, who compares 
+money-prices and pockets the difference. It is through his own movements that he establishes 
+equivalence. 
+
+Merchant's capital is originally merely the intervening movement between extremes which it does not 
+control, and between premises which it does not create. 
+
+Just as money originates from the bare form of commodity-circulation, C — M — C, not only as a 
+measure of value and a medium of circulation, but also as the absolute form of commodity, and hence of 
+wealth, or hoard, so that its conservation and accumulation as money becomes an end in itself, so, too, 
+does money, the hoard, as something that preserves and increases itself through mere alienation, 
+originate from the bare form of the circulation of merchant's capital, M — C — M'. 
+
+The trading nations of ancient times existed like the gods of Epicurus in the intermediate worlds of the 
+universe, or rather like the Jews in the pores of Polish society. The trade of the first independent 
+flourishing merchant towns and trading nations rested as a pure carrying trade upon the barbarism of the 
+producing nations, between whom they acted the middleman. 
+
+In the pre-capitalist stages of society commerce ruled industry. In modern society the reverse is true. Of 
+course, commerce will have more or less of a counter-effect on the communities between which it is 
+carried on. It will subordinate production more and more to exchange-value by making luxuries and 
+subsistence more dependent on sale than on the immediate use of the products. Thereby it dissolves the 
+old relationships. It multiplies money circulation. It encompasses no longer merely the surplus of 
+production, but bites deeper and deeper into the latter, and makes entire branches of production 
+dependent upon it. Nevertheless this disintegrating effect depends very much on the nature of the 
+producing community. 
+
+So long as merchant's capital promotes the exchange of products between undeveloped societies, 
+commercial profit not only appears as out-bargaining and cheating, but also largely originates from them. 
+Aside from the fact that it exploits the difference between the prices of production of various countries 
+(and in this respect it tends to level and fix the values of commodities), those modes of production bring 
+it about that merchant's capital appropriates an overwhelming portion of the surplus-product partly as a 
+mediator between communities which still substantially produce for use-value, and for whose economic 
+organisation the sale of the portion of their product entering circulation, or for that matter any sale of 
+products at their value, is of secondary importance; and partly, because under those earlier modes of 
+production the principal owners of the surplus-product with whom the merchant dealt, namely, the 
+slave-owner the feudal lord, and the state (for instance, the oriental despot) represent the consuming 
+wealth and luxury which the merchant seeks to trap, as Adam Smith correctly scented in the passage on 
+feudal times quoted earlier. Merchant's capital, when it holds a position of dominance, stands everywhere 
+
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+
+for a system of robbery,[4] so that its development among the trading nations of old and modern times is 
+always directly connected with plundering, piracy, kidnapping slaves, and colonial conquest; as in 
+Carthage, Rome, and later among the Venetians, Portuguese, Dutch, etc. 
+
+The development of commerce and merchant's capital gives rise everywhere to the tendency towards 
+production of exchange-values, increases its volume, multiplies it, makes it cosmopolitan, and develops 
+money into world-money. Commerce, therefore, has a more or less dissolving influence everywhere on 
+the producing organisation, which it finds at hand and whose different forms are mainly carried on with a 
+view to use-value. To what extent it brings about a dissolution of the old mode of production depends on 
+its solidity and internal structure. And whither this process of dissolution will lead, in other words, what 
+new mode of production will replace the old, does not depend on commerce, but on the character of the 
+old mode of production itself. In the ancient world the effect of commerce and the development of 
+merchant's capital always resulted in a slave economy; depending on the point of departure, only in the 
+transformation of patriarchal slave system devoted to the production of immediate means of subsistence 
+into one devoted to the production of surplus- value. However, in the modern world, it results in the 
+capitalist mode of production. It follows therefrom that these results spring in themselves from 
+circumstances other than the development of merchant's capital. 
+
+It is in the nature of things that as soon as town industry as such separates from agricultural industry, its 
+products are from the outset commodities and thus require the mediation of commerce for their sale The 
+leaning of commerce towards the development of towns, and, on the other hand, the dependence of 
+towns upon commerce, are so far natural. However, it depends on altogether different circumstances to 
+what measure industrial development will go hand in hand with this development. Ancient Rome, in its 
+later republican days, developed merchant's capital to a higher degree than ever before in the ancient 
+world, without showing any progress in the development of crafts, while in Corinth and other Grecian 
+towns in Europe and Asia Minor the development of commerce was accompanied by highly developed 
+crafts. On the other hand, quite contrary to the growth of towns and attendant conditions, the trading 
+spirit and the development of merchant's capital occur frequently among unsettled nomadic peoples. 
+
+There is no doubt — and it is precisely this fact which has led to wholly erroneous conceptions — that in 
+the 16th and 17th centuries the great revolutions, which took place in commerce with the geographical 
+discoveries and speeded the development of merchant's capital, constitute one of the principal elements 
+in furthering the transition from feudal to capitalist mode of production. The sudden expansion of the 
+world-market, the multiplication of circulating commodities, the competitive zeal of the European 
+nations to possess themselves of the products of Asia and the treasures of America, and the colonial 
+system — all contributed materially toward destroying the feudal fetters on production. However, in its 
+first period — the manufacturing period — the modern mode of production developed only where the 
+conditions for it had taken shape within the Middle Ages. Compare, for instance, Holland with 
+Portugal. \5] And when in the 16th, and partially still in the 17th, century the sudden expansion of 
+commerce and emergence of a new world-market overwhelmingly contributed to the fall of the old mode 
+of production and the rise of capitalist production, this was accomplished conversely on the basis of the 
+already existing capitalist mode of production. The world-market itself forms the basis for this mode of 
+production. On the other hand, the immanent necessity of this mode of production to produce on an 
+ever-enlarged scale tends to extend the world-market continually, so that it is not commerce in this case 
+which revolutionises industry, but industry which constantly revolutionises commerce. Commercial 
+supremacy itself is now linked with the prevalence to a greater or lesser degree of conditions for a large 
+
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+
+industry. Compare, for instance, England and Holland. The history of the decline of Holland as the ruling 
+trading nation is the history of the subordination of merchant's capital to industrial capital. The obstacles 
+presented by the internal solidity and organisation of pre-capitalistic, national modes of production to the 
+corrosive influence of commerce are strikingly illustrated in the intercourse of the English with India and 
+China. The broad basis of the mode of production here is formed by the unity of small-scale agriculture 
+and home industry, to which in India we should add the form of village communities built upon the 
+common ownership of land, which, incidentally, was the original form in China as well. In India the 
+English lost no time in exercising their direct political and economic power, as rulers and landlords, to 
+disrupt these small economic communities. \6] English commerce exerted a revolutionary influence on 
+these communities and tore them apart only in so far as the low prices of its goods served to destroy the 
+spinning and weaving industries, which were an ancient integrating element of this unity of industrial and 
+agricultural production. And even so this work of dissolution proceeds very gradually. And still more 
+slowly in China, where it is not reinforced by direct political power. The substantial economy and saving 
+in time afforded by the association of agriculture with manufacture put up a stubborn resistance to the 
+products of the big industries, whose prices include the faux frais of the circulation process which 
+pervades them. Unlike the English, Russian commerce, on the other hand, leaves the economic 
+groundwork of Asiatic production untouched. f71 
+
+The transition from the feudal mode of production is two-fold. The producer becomes merchant and 
+capitalist, in contrast to the natural agricultural economy and the guild-bound handicrafts of the medieval 
+urban industries. This is the really revolutionising path. Or else, the merchant establishes direct sway 
+over production. However much this serves historically as a stepping-stone — witness the English 
+17th-century clothier, who brings the weavers, independent as they are, under his control by selling their 
+wool to them and buying their cloth — it cannot by itself contribute to the overthrow of the old mode of 
+production, but tends rather to preserve and retain it as its precondition. The manufacturer in the French 
+silk industry and in the English hosiery and lace industries, for example, was thus mostly but nominally a 
+manufacturer until the middle of the 19th century. In point of fact, he was merely a merchant, who let the 
+weavers carry on in their old unorganised way and exerted only a merchant's control, for that was for 
+whom they really worked.£8I This system presents everywhere an obstacle to the real capitalist mode of 
+production and goes under with its development. Without revolutionising the mode of production, it only 
+worsens the condition of the direct producers, turns them into mere wage-workers and proletarians under 
+conditions worse than those under the immediate control of capital, and appropriates their surplus-labour 
+on the basis of the old mode of production. The same conditions exist in somewhat modified form in part 
+of the London handicraft furniture industry. It is practised notably in the Tower Hamlets on a very large 
+scale. The whole production is divided into very numerous separate branches of business independent of 
+one another. One establishment makes only chairs, another only tables, a third only bureaus, etc. But 
+these establishments themselves are run more or less like handicrafts by a single minor master and a few 
+journeymen. Nevertheless, production is too large to work directly for private persons. The buyers are the 
+owners of furniture stores. On Saturdays the master visits them and sells his product, the transaction 
+being closed with as much haggling as in a pawnshop over a loan. The masters depend on this weekly 
+sale, if for no other reason than to he able to buy raw materials for the following week and to pay out 
+wages. Under these circumstances, they are really only middlemen between the merchant and their own 
+labourers. The merchant is the actual capitalist who pockets the lion's share of the surplus-value. f91 
+Almost the same applies in the transition to manufacture of branches formerly carried on as handicrafts 
+or side lines to rural industries. The transition to large-scale industry depends on the technical 
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+
+development of these small owner-operated establishments — wherever they employ machinery that 
+admits of a handicraft-like operation. The machine is driven by steam, instead of by hand. This is of late 
+the case, for instance, in the English hosiery industry. 
+
+There is, consequently, a three-fold transition. First, the merchant becomes directly an industrial 
+capitalist. This is true in crafts based on trade, especially crafts producing luxuries and imported by 
+merchants together with the raw materials and labourers from foreign lands, as in Italy from 
+Constantinople in the 15th century. Second, the merchant turns the small masters into his middlemen, or 
+buys directly from the independent producer, leaving him nominally independent and his mode of 
+production unchanged. Third, the industrialist becomes merchant and produces directly for the wholesale 
+market. 
+
+In the Middle Ages, the merchant was merely one who, as Poppe rightly says, "transferred" the goods 
+produced by guilds or peasants [Poppe, Geschichte der Technologie seit der Wiederherstellung der 
+Wissenschaften bis an das Ende des achtzehnten Jahrhunderts, Band I, Gottingen. 1807, S. 70. — Ed.] 
+The merchant becomes industrialist, or rather, makes craftsmen, particularly the small rural producers, 
+work for him. Conversely, the producer becomes merchant. The master weaver, for instance, buys his 
+wool or yarn himself and sells his cloth to the merchant, instead of receiving his wool from the merchant 
+piecemeal and working for him together with his journeymen. The elements of production pass into the 
+production process as commodities bought by himself. And instead of producing for some individual 
+merchant, or for specified customers, he produces for the world of trade. The producer is himself a 
+merchant. Merchant's capital does no more than carry on the process of circulation. Originally, 
+commerce was the precondition for the transformation of the crafts, the rural domestic industries, and 
+feudal agriculture, into capitalist enterprises. It develops the product into a commodity, partly by creating 
+a market for it, and partly by introducing new commodity equivalents and supplying production with new 
+raw and auxiliary materials, thereby opening new branches of production based from the first upon 
+commerce, both as concerns production for the home and world-market, and as concerns conditions of 
+production originating in the world-market. As soon as manufacture gains sufficient strength, and 
+particularly large-scale industry, it creates in its turn a market for itself, by capturing it through its 
+commodities. At this point commerce becomes the servant of industrial production, for which continued 
+expansion of the market becomes a vital necessity. Ever more extended mass production floods the 
+existing market and thereby works continually for a still greater expansion of this market for breaking out 
+of its limits. What restricts this mass production is not commerce (in so far as it expresses the existing 
+demand), but the magnitude of employed capital and the level of development of the productivity of 
+labour. The industrial capitalist always has the world-market before him, compares, and must constantly 
+compare, his own cost-prices with the market-prices at home, and throughout the world. In the earlier 
+period such comparison fell almost entirely to the merchants, and thus secured the predominance of 
+merchant's capital over industrial capital. 
+
+The first theoretical treatment of the modern mode of production — the mercantile system — proceeded 
+necessarily from the superficial phenomena of the circulation process as individualised in the movements 
+of merchant's capital, and therefore grasped only the appearance of matters. Partly because merchant's 
+capital is the first free state of existence of capital in general. And partly because of the overwhelming 
+influence which it exerted during the first revolutionising period of feudal production — the genesis of 
+modern production. The real science of modern economy only begins when the theoretical analysis 
+passes from the process of circulation to the process of production. Interest-bearing capital is, indeed, 
+likewise a very old form of capital. But we shall see later why mercantilism does not take it as its point of 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 20 
+
+departure, but rather carries on a polemic against it. 
+
+
+
+FOOTNOTES 
+
+T 1 1 The sage Mr. Roscher [Die Grundlagen der Nationalokonomie, 3. Auflage, 1858, § 60, 5. 103. — Ed.] 
+has figured out that, since certain people designate trade as mediation between producers and consumers, 
+"one" might just as well designate production itself as mediation of consumption (between whom?), and 
+this implies, of course, that merchant's capital is as much a part of productive capital as agricultural and 
+industrial capital. In other words, because I can say, that man can mediate his consumption only by 
+means of production (and he has to do this even without getting his education at Leipzig), or that labour 
+is required for the appropriation of the products of Nature (which might be called mediation), it follows, 
+of course, that social mediation arising from a specific social form of production-because mediation-has 
+the same absolute character of necessity, and the same rank. The word mediation settles everything. By 
+the way, the merchants are not mediators between producers and consumers (consumers as distinct from 
+producers, consumers, that is, who do not produce, are left aside for the moment), but mediators in the 
+exchange of the products of these producers among themselves. They are but middlemen In an exchange, 
+which in thousands of cases proceeds without them. 
+
+[2] Herr W. Kiesselbach (in his Der Gang des Welthandels im Mittelalter, 1 860) is indeed still 
+enwrapped in the ideas of a world, in which merchant's capital is the general form of capital. He has not 
+the least idea of the modern meaning of capital, any more than Mommsen when he speaks in his history 
+of Rome of "capital" and the rule of capital. In modern English history, the commercial estate proper and 
+the merchant towns are also politically reactionary and in league with the landed and moneyed interest 
+against industrial capital. Compare, for instance, the political role of Liverpool with that of Manchester 
+and Birmingham. The complete rule of industrial capital was not acknowledged by English merchant's 
+capital and moneyed interest until after the abolition of the corn tax, etc. 
+
+[3J "The inhabitants of trading cities, by importing the improved manufactures and expensive luxuries of 
+richer countries afforded some food to the vanity of the great proprietors, who eagerly purchased them 
+with great quantities of the rude produce of their own lands. The commerce of a great part of Europe in 
+those times, accordingly consisted chiefly, in the exchange of their own rude produce for the 
+manufactured produce of more civilised nations... When this taste became so general as to occasion a 
+considerable demand, the merchants, in order to save the expense of carriage, naturally endeavoured to 
+establish some manufactures of the same kind in their own country." (Adam Smith [Wealth of Nations], 
+Book III, Ch. Ill, London, 1776, pp. 489, 490.) 
+
+[4J "Now there is among merchants much complaint about the nobles, or robbers, because they must 
+trade under great danger and run the risk of being kidnapped, beaten, blackmailed, and robbed. If they 
+would suffer these things for the sake of justice, the merchants would be saintly people... But since such 
+great wrong and unchristian thievery and robbery are committed all over the world by merchants, and 
+even among themselves, is it any wonder that God should procure that such great wealth, gained by 
+wrong, should again be lost or stolen, and they themselves be hit over the head or made prisoner?... And 
+the princes should punish such unjust bargains with due rigour and. take care that their subjects shall not 
+be so outrageously abused by merchants. Because they fail to do so, God employs knights and robbers, 
+and punishes the merchants through them for the wrongs they committed, and uses them as his devils, 
+
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+
+just as he plagues Egypt and all the world with devils, or destroys through enemies. He thus pits one 
+against the other, without thereby insinuating that knights are any the less robbers than merchants, 
+although the merchants daily rob the whole world, while a knight may rob one or two once or twice a 
+year." "Go by the word of Isaiah: Thy princes have become the companions of robbers. For they hang the 
+thieves, who have stolen a gulden or a half gulden, but they associate with those, who rob all the world 
+and steal with greater assurance than all others, so that the proverb remains true: Big thieves hang little 
+thieves; and as the Roman senator Cato said: Mean thieves lie in prisons and stocks, but public thieves 
+are clothed in gold and silks. But what will God say finally? He will do as he said to Ezekiel; he will 
+amalgamate princes and merchants, one thief with another, like lead and iron, as when a city burns down, 
+leaving neither princes nor merchants." (Martin Luther, Von Kaufshandlung und Wucher, 1524, S. 
+296-97.) 
+
+[51 How predominant fishery, manufacture and agriculture, aside from other circumstances, were as the 
+basis for Holland's development, has already been explained by 18th-century writers, such as Massie [p. 
+60]. In contradistinction to the former view, which underrated the volume and importance of commerce 
+in Asia, in Antiquity, and in the Middle Ages, it has now come to be the custom to extremely overrate it. 
+The best antidote against this conception is to study the imports and exports of England in the early 18th 
+century and to compare them with modern imports and exports. And yet they were incomparably greater 
+than those of any former trading nation. (See Anderson, An Historical and Chronological Deduction of 
+the Origin of Commerce. [Vol. II, London, 1764, p. 261 et seq. — Ed.]) 
+
+[61 If any nation's history, then the history of the English in India is a string of futile and really absurd (in 
+practice infamous) economic experiments. In Bengal they created a caricature of large-scale English 
+landed estates; in south-eastern India a caricature of small parcelled property; in the north-west they did 
+all they could to transform the Indian economic community with common ownership of the soil into a 
+caricature of itself. 
+
+[71 Since Russia has been making frantic exertions to develop its own capitalist production, which is 
+exclusively dependent upon its domestic and the neighbouring Asiatic market, this is also beginning to 
+change. — F.E. 
+
+[81 The same is true of the ribbon and basting makers and the silk weavers of the Rhine. Even a railway 
+has been built near Krefeld for the intercourse of these rural hand-weavers with the town "manufacturer." 
+But this was later put out of business, together with the hand-weavers, by the mechanical weaving 
+industry. -- F.E. 
+
+[91 This system has been developed since 1865 on a still larger scale. For details see the First Report of 
+the Select Committee of the House of Lords on the Sweating System, London, 1888. — F.E. 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 21 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 21 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+PartV 
+
+DIVISION OF PROFIT INTO INTEREST AND PROFIT 
+
+OF ENTERPRISE. 
+
+INTEREST-BEARING CAPITAL 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 21 
+
+
+
+Interest-Bearing Capital 
+
+
+
+In our first discussion of the general, or average, rate of profit (Part II of this book) we did not have this 
+rate before us in its complete form, the equalisation of profit appearing only as equalisation between 
+industrial capitals invested in different spheres. This was supplemented in the preceding part, which dealt 
+with the participation of merchant's capital in this equalisation, and also commercial profit. The general 
+rate of profit and the average profit now appeared in narrower limits than before. It should be 
+remembered in the course of our analysis that in any future reference to the general rate of profit or to 
+average profit we mean this latter connotation, hence only the final form of average rate. And since this 
+rate is the same for mercantile, as well as industrial, capital, it is no longer necessary, so far as this 
+average profit is concerned, to make a distinction between industrial and commercial profit. Whether 
+industrially invested in the sphere of production, or commercially in the sphere of circulation, capital 
+yields the same average annual profit pro rata to its magnitude. 
+
+Money — here taken as the independent expression of a certain amount of value existing either actually 
+as money or as commodities — may be converted into capital on the basis of capitalist production, and 
+may thereby be transformed from a given value to a self-expanding, or increasing, value. It produces 
+profit, i.e., it enables the capitalist to extract a certain quantity of unpaid labour, surplus-product and 
+surplus-value from the labourers, and to appropriate it. In this way, aside from its use-value as money, it 
+acquires an additional use- value, namely that of serving as capital. Its use-value then consists precisely in 
+the profit it produces when converted into capital. In this capacity of potential capital, as a means of 
+producing profit, it becomes a commodity, but a commodity sui generis. Or, what amounts to the same, 
+capital as capital becomes a commodity.JJJ 
+
+Suppose the annual average rate of profit is 20%. In that case a machine valued at £100, employed as 
+capital under average conditions and an average amount of intelligence and purposive effort, would yield 
+a profit of £20. A man in possession of £100, therefore, possesses the power to make £120 out of £100, 
+
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+
+or to produce a profit of £20. He possesses a potential capital of £100. If he gives these £100 to another 
+for one year, so the latter may use them as real capital, he gives him the power to produce a profit of £20 
+— a surplus-value which costs this other nothing, and for which he pays no equivalent. If this other 
+should pay, say, £5 at the close of the year to the owner of the £100 out of the profit produced, he would 
+thereby pay the use- value of the £100 — the use- value of its function as capital, the function of producing 
+a profit of £20. The part of the profit paid to the owner is called interest, which is just another name, or 
+special term, for a part of the profit given up by capital in the process of functioning to the owner of the 
+capital, instead of putting it into its own pocket. 
+
+It is plain that the possession of £100 gives their owner the power to pocket the interest-that certain 
+portion of profit produced by means of his capital. If he had not given the £100 to the other person, the 
+latter could not have produced any profit, and could not at all have acted as a capitalist with reference to 
+these £100. [21 
+
+To speak here of natural justice, as Gilbart does (see note), is nonsense. The justice of the transactions 
+between agents of production rests on the fact that these arise as natural consequences out of the 
+production relationships. The juristic forms in which these economic transactions appear as wilful acts of 
+the parties concerned, as expressions of their common will and as contracts that may be enforced by law 
+against some individual party, cannot, being mere forms, determine this content. They merely express it. 
+This content is just whenever it corresponds, is appropriate, to the mode of production. It is unjust 
+whenever it contradicts that mode. Slavery on the basis of capitalist production is unjust; likewise fraud 
+in the quality of commodities. 
+
+The £100 produce the profit of £20 because they function as capital, be it industrial or mercantile. But the 
+sine qua non of this function as capital is that they are expended as capital, i.e., are expended in 
+purchasing means of production (in the case of industrial capital) or commodities (in the case of 
+merchant's capital). But to be expended, they must be available. If A. the owner of the £100, were either 
+to spend them for personal consumption, or to keep them as a hoard, they could not have been invested 
+as capital by B in his capacity of functioning capitalist. B does not expend his own capital, but A's; 
+however, he cannot expend A's capital without A's consent. Therefore, it is really A who originally 
+expends the £100 as capital, albeit his function as capitalist is limited to this outlay of £100 as capital. In 
+respect to these £100, B acts as capitalist only because A lends him the £100, thus expending them as 
+capital. 
+
+Let us first consider the singular circulation of interest-bearing capital. We shall then secondly have to 
+analyse the peculiar manner in which it is sold as a commodity, namely loaned instead of relinquished 
+once and for all. 
+
+The point of departure is the money which A advances to B. This may be done with or without security. 
+The first-named form, however, is the more ancient, save advances on commodities or paper, such as 
+bills of exchange, shares, etc. These special forms do not concern us at this point. We are dealing here 
+with interest-bearing capital in its usual form. 
+
+In B's possession the money is actually converted into capital, passes through M — C — M' and returns to 
+A as M', as M+AM, where AM represents the interest. For the sake of simplicity we shall not consider 
+here the case, in which capital remains in B's possession for a long term and interest is paid at regular 
+intervals. 
+
+
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+
+The movement, therefore, is 
+M - M -- C -- M' - M'. 
+
+What appears duplicated here, is 1) the outlay of money as capital, and 2) its reflux as realised capital, as 
+
+M' or M+AM. 
+
+In the movement of merchant's capital, M — C — M', the same commodity changes hands twice, or more 
+than twice, if merchant sells to merchant. But every such change of place of the same commodity 
+indicates a metamorphosis, a purchase or sale of the commodity, no matter how often the process may be 
+repeated, until it enters consumption. 
+
+On the other hand, the same money changes hands twice in C — M — C, but this indicates the complete 
+metamorphosis of the commodity, which is first converted into money and then from money back into 
+another commodity. 
+
+But in interest-bearing capital the first time M changes hands is by no means a phase either of the 
+commodity metamorphosis, or of reproduction of capital. It first becomes one when it is expended a 
+second time, in the hands of the active capitalist who carries on trade with it, or transforms it into 
+productive capital. M's first change of hands does not express anything here, beyond its transfer from A 
+to B — a transfer which usually takes place under certain legal forms and stipulations. 
+
+This double outlay of money as capital, of which the first is merely a transfer from A to B, is matched by 
+its double reflux. As M', or M+AM, it flows back out of the process to B, the person acting as capitalist. 
+The latter then transfers it back to A, but together with a part of the profit, as realised capital, as M+AM, 
+in which AM is not the entire profit, but only a portion of the profit — the interest. It flows back to B only 
+as what he had expended, as functioning capital, but as the property of A. To make its reflux complete, B 
+must consequently return it to A. But in addition to the capital, B must also turn over to A a portion of 
+the profit, a part which goes under the name of interest, which he had made with this capital since A had 
+given him the money only as a capital, i.e., as value which is not only preserved in its movement, but 
+also creates surplus-value for its owner. It remains in B's hands only so long as it is functioning capital. 
+And with its reflux — on the stipulated date — it ceases to function as capital. When no longer acting as 
+capital, however, it must again be returned to A, who had never ceased being its legal owner. 
+
+The form of lending, which is peculiar to this commodity, to capital as commodity, and which also 
+occurs in other transactions instead of that of sale, follows from the simple definition that capital obtains 
+here as a commodity, or that money as capital becomes a commodity. 
+
+A distinction should be made here. 
+
+We have seen (Book II, Chap. I), and recall briefly at this point, that in the process of circulation capital 
+serves as commodity-capital and money-capital. But in neither form does capital become a commodity as 
+capital. 
+
+As soon as productive capital turns into commodity-capital it must be placed on the market to be sold as 
+a commodity. There it acts simply as a commodity. The capitalist then appears only as the seller of 
+commodities, just as the buyer is only the buyer of commodities. As a commodity the product must 
+realise its value, must assume its transmuted form of money, in the process of circulation by its sale. It is 
+also quite immaterial for this reason, whether this commodity is bought by a consumer as a necessity of 
+
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+
+life, or by a capitalist as means of production, i.e., as a component part of his capital. In the act of 
+circulation commodity-capital acts only as a commodity, not as a capital. It is commodity-capital, as 
+distinct from an ordinary commodity, 1) because it is weighted with surplus- value, the realisation of its 
+value, therefore, being simultaneously the realisation of surplus-value; but this alters nothing about its 
+simple existence as a commodity, as a product with a certain price; 2) because its function as a 
+commodity is a phase in its process of reproduction as capital, and therefore its movement as a 
+commodity being only a partial movement of its process, is simultaneously its movement as capital. Yet 
+it does not become that through the sale as such, but only through the connection of the sale with the 
+whole movement of this specific quantity of value in the capacity of capital. 
+
+In the same way as money-capital it really acts simply as money, i.e., as a means of buying commodities 
+(the elements of production). The fact that this money is simultaneously money-capital, a form of capital, 
+does not emerge from the act of buying, the actual function which it here performs as money, but from 
+the connection of this act with the total movement of capital, since this act, performed by capital as 
+money, initiates the capitalist production process. 
+
+But in so far as they actually function, i.e., actually play a role in the process, commodity-capital acts 
+here only as a commodity and money-capital only as money. At no time during the metamorphosis, 
+viewed by itself, does the capitalist sell his commodities as capital to the buyer, although to him they 
+represent capital; nor does he give up money as capital to the seller. In both cases be gives up his 
+commodities simply as commodities, and money simply as money, i.e., as a means of purchasing 
+commodities. 
+
+It is only in connection with the entire process, at the moment where the point of departure appears 
+simultaneously as the point of return, in M — M' or C — C, that capital in the process of circulation 
+appears as capital (whereas in the process of production it appears as capital through the subordination of 
+the labourer to the capitalist and the production of surplus value). In this moment of return, however, the 
+connection disappears. What we have then is M', or M+AM, a sum of money equal to the sum originally 
+advanced plus an increment — the realised surplus-value (regardless of whether the amount of value 
+increased by AM exists in the form of money, or commodities, or elements of production). And it is 
+precisely at this point of return where capital exists as realised capital, as an expanded value, that it never 
+enters the circulation in this form — in so far as this point is fixed as a point of rest, whether real or 
+imaginary — but rather appears to have been withdrawn from circulation as a result of the whole process. 
+Whenever it is again expended, it is never given up to another as capital, but is sold to him as an ordinary 
+commodity, or given to him as ordinary money in exchange for commodities. It never appears as capital 
+in its process of circulation, only as commodity or money, and at this point this is the only form of its 
+existence for others. Commodities and money are here capital not because commodities change into 
+money, or money into commodities, not in their actual relations to sellers or buyers, but only in their 
+ideal relations to the capitalist himself (subjectively speaking), or as phases in the process of 
+reproduction (objectively speaking). Capital exists as capital in actual movement, not in the process of 
+circulation, but only in the process of production, in the process by which labour-power is exploited. 
+
+The matter is different with interest-bearing capital, however, and it is precisely this difference which 
+lends it its specific character. The owner of money who desires to enhance his money as interest-bearing 
+capital, turns it over to a third person, throws it into circulation, turns it into a commodity as capital; not 
+just capital for himself, but also for others. It is not capital merely for the man who gives it up, but is 
+from the very first given to the third person as capital, as a value endowed with the use-value of creating 
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+
+surplus-value, of creating profit; a value which preserves itself in its movement and returns to its original 
+owner, in this case the owner of money, after performing its function. Hence it leaves him only for a 
+specified time, passes but temporarily out of the possession of its owner into the possession of a 
+functioning capitalist, is therefore neither given up in payment nor sold, but merely loaned, merely 
+relinquished with the understanding that, first, it shall return to its point of departure after a definite time 
+interval, and, second, that it shall return as realised capital — a capital having realised its use-value, its 
+power of creating surplus-value. 
+
+Commodities loaned out as capital are loaned either as fixed or as circulating capital, depending on their 
+properties. Money may be loaned out in either form. It may be loaned as fixed capital, for instance, if it is 
+paid back in the form of an annuity, whereby a portion of the capital flows back together with the 
+interest. Certain commodities, such as houses, ships, machines, etc., can be loaned out only as fixed 
+capital by the nature of their use-values. Yet all loaned capital, whatever its form, and no matter how the 
+nature of its use-value may modify its return, is always only a specific form of money-capital. Because 
+what is loaned out is always a definite sum of money, and it is this sum on which interest is calculated. 
+Should whatever is loaned out be neither money nor circulating capital, it is also paid back in the way 
+fixed capital returns. The lender periodically receives interest and a portion of the consumed value of the 
+fixed capital itself, this being an equivalent for the periodic wear and tear. And at the end of the 
+stipulated term the unconsumed portion of the loaned fixed capital is returned in kind. If the loaned 
+capital is circulating capital, it is likewise returned in the manner peculiar to circulating capital. 
+
+The manner of reflux is, therefore, always determined by the actual circuit described by capital in the act 
+of reproduction and by its specific varieties. But as for loaned capital, its reflux assumes the form of 
+return payments, because its advance, by which it is transferred, possesses the form of a loan. 
+
+In this chapter we treat only of actual money-capital, from which the other forms of loaned capital are 
+derived. 
+
+The loaned capital flows back in two ways. In the process of reproduction it returns to the functioning 
+capitalist, and then its return repeats itself once more as transfer to the lender, the money-capitalist, as 
+return payment to the real owner, its legal point of departure. 
+
+In the actual process of circulation, capital appears always as a commodity or as money, and its 
+movement always is broken up into a series of purchases and sales. In short, the process of circulation 
+resolves itself into the metamorphosis of commodities. It is different, when we consider the process of 
+reproduction as a whole. If we start out with money (and the same is true if we start out with 
+commodities, since we begin with their value, hence view them sub specie as money), we shall see that a 
+certain sum of money is expended and returns after a certain period with an increment. The advanced 
+sum of money returns together with a surplus-value. It has remained intact and increased in making a 
+certain cycle. But now, being loaned out as capital, money is loaned as just the sum of money which 
+preserves and expands itself, which returns after a certain period with an increment, and is always ready 
+to perform the same process over again. It is expended neither as money nor as a commodity, thus, 
+neither exchanged against a commodity when advanced in the form of money, nor sold in exchange for 
+money when advanced as a commodity; rather, it is expended as capital. This relation to itself, in which 
+capital presents itself when the capitalist production process is viewed as a whole and as a single unity, 
+and in which capital appears as money that begets money, is here imparted to it as its character, its 
+designation, without any intermediary movement. And it is relinquished with this designation when 
+
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+
+loaned out as money-capital. 
+
+A queer conception of the role of money-capital is hold by Proudhon (Gratuite du Credit. Discussion 
+entre M. F. Bastiat et M. Proudhon, Paris, 1850). Loaning seems an evil to Proudhon because it is not 
+selling. Loaning for an interest is "the faculty of selling the same article over and over again, and of 
+receiving Its price again and again, without once relinquishing ownership of the object which is being 
+sold" (p. 9). [The cited words belong to Cheve, one of the editors of the newspaper La Voix du peuple, 
+and the author of the "first letter" in the book Gratuite du Credit. Discussion entre M. F. Bastiat et M. 
+Proudhon, Paris, 1850. — Ed] The object — money, a house, etc. — does not change owners as in selling 
+and buying. But Proudhon does not see that no equivalent is received in return for money given away in 
+the form of interest-bearing capital. True, the object is given away in every act of buying and selling, so 
+far as there are processes of exchange at all. Ownership of the sold article is always relinquished. But its 
+value is not given up. In a sale the commodity is given away, but not its value, which is returned in the 
+form of money, or in what is here just another form of it — promissory notes, or titles of payment. When 
+purchasing, the money is given away, but not its value, which is replaced in the form of commodities. 
+The industrial capitalist retains the same value in his hands throughout the process of reproduction 
+(excluding surplus-value), but in different forms. 
+
+Inasmuch as there is an exchange, i.e., an exchange of articles, there is no change in the value. The same 
+capitalist always retains the same value. But so long as surplus-value is produced by the capitalist, there 
+is no exchange. As soon as an exchange occurs, the surplus-value is already incorporated in the 
+commodities. If we view the entire circuit made by capital, M — C — M', rather than individual acts of 
+exchange, we shall see that a definite amount of value is continually advanced, and that this same amount 
+plus surplus-value, or profit, is withdrawn from circulation The actual acts of exchange do not, at any 
+rate, reveal how this process is promoted. And it is precisely this process of M as capital, on which the 
+interest of the money-lending capitalist rests, and from which it is derived. 
+
+"In fact," says Proudhon, "the hat-maker, who sells hats, receives their value, neither more nor less. But 
+the money-lending capitalist... does not recover just his capital, he recovers more than his capital, more 
+than he throws into the exchange; he receives an interest over and above his capital" (p. 69). Here the 
+latter represents the productive capitalist as distinct from the loan capitalist. Proudhon has obviously 
+failed to grasp the secret of how the productive capitalist can sell commodities at their value (equalisation 
+through prices of production is here immaterial to his conception) and receive a profit over and above the 
+capital he flings into exchange. Suppose the price of production of 100 hats = £1 15, and that this price of 
+production happens to coincide with the value of the hats, which means that the capital producing the 
+hats is of the same composition as the average social capital. Should the profit = 15%, the hatter makes a 
+profit of £15 by selling his commodities at their value of £1 15. They cost him only £100. If he produced 
+them with his own capital, he pockets the entire surplus of £15 but if with borrowed capital, he may have 
+to give up £5 as interest. This alters nothing in the value of the hats, only in the distribution among 
+different persons of the surplus-value already contained in this value. Since, therefore, the value of the 
+hats is not affected by the payment of interest, it is nonsense on Proudhon's part to say: "As in commerce 
+the interest on capital is added to the wages of labourers in making up the price of commodities, it is 
+impossible for the labourer to buy back the product of his own labour. Vivre en travaillant is a principle 
+which contains a contradiction under the rule of interest" (p. 105). JT[ 
+
+How little Proudhon understood the nature of capital is shown in the following statement, in which he 
+describes the movement of capital in general as a movement peculiar to interest-bearing capital: "Since 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 21 
+
+money-capital returns to its source from exchange through the accumulation of interest, it follows that 
+reinvestment always made by the same individual continually brings profit to the same person," p. 154. 
+
+What is it that still puzzles him in the peculiar movement of interest-bearing capital? The categories: 
+buying, price, giving up articles, and the immediate form in which surplus-value appears here; in short, 
+the phenomenon that capital as such has become a commodity, that selling, consequently, has turned into 
+lending and price into a share of the profit. 
+
+The return of capital to its point of departure is generally the characteristic movement of capital in its 
+total circuit. This is by no means a feature of interest-bearing capital alone. What singles it out is rather 
+the external form of its return without the intervention of any circuit. The loaning capitalist gives away 
+his capital, transfers it to the industrial capitalist, without receiving any equivalent. His transfer is not an 
+act belonging to the real circulation process of capital at all. It serves merely to introduce this circuit, 
+which is effected by the industrial capitalist. This first change of position of money does not express any 
+act of the metamorphosis — neither buying nor selling. Ownership is not relinquished, because there is no 
+exchange and no equivalent is received. The return of the money from the hands of the industrial 
+capitalist to those of the loaning capitalist merely supplements the first act of giving away the capital. 
+Advanced in the form of money, the capital again returns to the industrial capitalist through the circular 
+process in the form of money. But since it did not belong to him when he invested it, it cannot belong to 
+him on its return. Passing through the process of reproduction cannot by any means turn the capital into 
+his property. He must therefore restore it to the lender. The first expenditure, which transfers the capital 
+from the lender to the borrower, is a legal transaction which has nothing to do with the actual process of 
+reproduction. It is merely a prelude to this process. The return payment, which again transfers the capital 
+that has flowed back from the borrower to the lender is another legal transaction, a supplement of the 
+first. One introduces the actual process, the other is an act supplementary to this process. Point of 
+departure and point of return, the giving away and the recovery of the loaned capital, thus appear as 
+arbitrary movements promoted by legal transactions, which take place before and after the actual 
+movement of capital and have nothing to do with it as such. It would have been all the same as concerns 
+this actual movement if the capital had from the first belonged to the industrial capitalist and had 
+returned to him, therefore, as his own. 
+
+In the first introductory act the lender gives his capital to the borrower. In the supplemental and closing 
+act the borrower returns the capital to the lender. As concerns the transaction between these two-and 
+aside from the interest for the present — as concerns the movement of the loaned capital between lender 
+and borrower, therefore, the two acts (separated by a longer or shorter time interval, during which the 
+actual reproduction process of the capital takes place) embrace the entire movement. And this movement, 
+disposing on condition of returning, constitutes per se the movement of lending and borrowing, that 
+specific form of conditionally alienating money or commodities. 
+
+The characteristic movement of capital in general, the return of the money to the capitalist, i.e., the return 
+of capital to its point of departure, assumes in the case of interest-bearing capital a wholly external 
+appearance, separated from the actual movement, of which it is a form. A gives away his money not as 
+money, but as capital. No transformation occurs in the capital. It merely changes hands. Its real 
+transformation into capital does not take place until it is in the hands of B. But for A it becomes capital as 
+soon as he gives it to B. The actual reflux of capital from the processes of production and circulation 
+takes place only for B. But for A the reflux assumes the same form as the alienation. The capital returns 
+from B to A. Giving away, i.e., loaning money for a certain time and receiving it back with interest 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 21 
+
+(surplus-value) is the complete form of the movement peculiar to interest-bearing capital as such. The 
+actual movement of loaned money as capital is an operation lying outside the transactions between lender 
+and borrower. In these the intermediate act is obliterated, invisible, not directly included. A special sort 
+of commodity, capital has its own peculiar mode of alienation. Neither does its return, therefore, express 
+itself as the consequence and result, of some definite series of economic processes, but as the effect of a 
+specific legal agreement between buyer and seller. The time of return depends on the progress of the 
+process of reproduction; in the case of interest-bearing capital, its return as capital seems to depend on 
+the mere agreement between lender and borrower. So that in regard to this transaction the return of 
+capital no longer appears as a result arising out of the process of reproduction; it appears as if the loaned 
+capital never lost the form of money. To be sure, these transactions are really determined by the actual 
+reproductive returns. But this is not evident in the transaction itself. Nor is it by any means always the 
+case in practice. If the actual return does not take place in due Lime, the borrower must look for other 
+resources to meet his obligations vis-a-vis the lender. The bare form of capital — money expended as a 
+certain sum, A, which returns as sum A+l/X A after a given lapse of time without any other intermediate 
+act save this lapse of time — is only a meaningless form of the actual movement of capital. 
+
+In the actual movement of capital its return is a phase in the process of circulation. The money is first 
+converted into means of production; production transforms them into commodities; through sale of the 
+commodities they are reconverted into money and return in this form into the hands of the capitalist who 
+had originally advanced the capital in the form of money. But in the case of interest-bearing capital, the 
+return, like alienation, is the result of a legal transaction between the owner of the capital and a second 
+party. We see only the alienation and the return payment. Whatever passes in the interim is obliterated. 
+
+But since money advanced as capital has the property of returning to the person who advanced it, to the 
+one who expended it as capital, and since M — C — M' is the immanent form of the movement of capital, 
+the owner of the money can, for this very reason, loan it out as capital, as something that has the property 
+of returning to its point of departure, of preserving, and increasing, its value in the course of its 
+movement. He gives it away as capital, because it returns to its point of departure after having been 
+employed as capital, hence can be restored by the borrower after a certain period precisely because it has 
+come back to him. 
+
+Loaning money as capital — its alienation on the condition of it being returned after a certain 
+time-presupposes, therefore, that it will be actually employed as capital, and that it actually flows back to 
+its starting-point. The real cycle made by money as capital is, therefore, the premise for the legal 
+transaction by which the borrower must return the money to the lender. If the borrower does not use the 
+money as capital, that is his own business. The lender loans it as capital, and as such it is supposed to 
+perform the functions of capital, which include the circuit of money-capital until it returns to its 
+starting-point in the form of money. 
+
+The acts of circulation, M — C and C — M', in which a certain amount of value functions as money or 
+commodities, are but intermediate processes, mere phases of the total movement. As capital, it performs 
+the entire movement M — M'. It is advanced as money or a sum of values in one form or another, and 
+returns as a sum of values. The lender of money does not expend it in purchasing commodities, or, if this 
+sum of values is in commodity-form, does not sell it for money. He advances it as capital, as M — M', as 
+a value, which returns to its point of departure after a certain term. He lends instead of buying or selling. 
+This lending, therefore, is the appropriate form of alienating value as capital, instead of alienating it as 
+money or commodities. It does not follow, however, that lending cannot also take the form of 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 21 
+
+transactions which have nothing to do with the capitalist process of reproduction. 
+
+
+
+We have so far only considered the movements of loaned capital between its owner and the industrial 
+capitalist. Now we must inquire into interest. 
+
+The lender expends his money as capital; the amount of value, which he relinquishes to another, is 
+capital, and consequently returns to him. But the mere return of it would not be the reflux of the loaned 
+sum of value as capital, but merely the return of a loaned sum of value. To return as capital, the 
+advanced sum of value must not only be preserved in the movement but must also expand, must increase 
+in value, i.e., must return with a surplus- value, as M+AM, the latter being interest or a portion of the 
+average profit, which does not remain in the hands of the operating capitalist, but falls to the share of the 
+money-capitalist. 
+
+The fact that the latter has relinquished it as capital implies that it must be restored to him as M+AM. 
+Later, we shall also have to turn our attention to the form in which interest is paid in the meantime at 
+fixed intervals, but without the capital, whose return follows at the end of a lengthy period. 
+
+What does the money-capitalist give to the borrower, the industrial capitalist? What does he really turn 
+over to him? It is only this act of handing over money which changes lending money into alienation of 
+money as capital, i.e., alienation of capital as a commodity. 
+
+It is only by this act of alienating that capital is loaned by the money-lender as a commodity, or that the 
+commodity at his disposal is given to another as capital. 
+
+What is alienated in an ordinary sale? Not the value of the sold commodity, for this merely changes its 
+form. The value exists ideally in a commodity as its price before it actually passes as money into the 
+hands of the seller. The same value and the same amount of value merely change their form. In the one 
+instance they exist in commodity-form, in the other in the form of money. What is really alienated by the 
+seller, and, therefore, passes into the individual or productive consumption of the buyer, is the use-value 
+of the commodity — the commodity as a use-value. 
+
+What, now, is the use- value which the money-capitalist gives up for the period of the loan and 
+relinquishes to the productive capitalist — the borrower? It is the use-value which the money acquires by 
+being capable of becoming capital, of performing the functions of capital, and creating a definite 
+surplus-value, the average profit (whatever is above or below it appears here as a mere accident) during 
+its process, besides preserving its original magnitude of value. In the case of the other commodities the 
+use-value is ultimately consumed. Their substance disappears, and with it their value. In contrast, the 
+commodity-capital is peculiar in that its value and use-value not only remain intact but also increase, 
+through consumption of its use- value. 
+
+It is this use-value of money as capital — this faculty of producing an average profit — which the 
+money-capitalist relinquishes to the industrial capitalist for the period, during which he places the loaned 
+capital at the latter's disposal. 
+
+Money thus loaned has in this respect a certain similarity with labour-power in its relation to the 
+industrial capitalist. With the difference that the latter pays for the value of labour-power, whereas he 
+simply pays back the value of the loaned capital. The use-value of labour-power for the industrial 
+capitalist is that labour-power creates more value (profit) in its consumption than it possesses itself, and 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 21 
+
+than it costs. This additional value is use- value for the industrial capitalist. And in like manner the 
+use- value of loaned capital appears as its faculty of begetting and increasing value. 
+
+The money-capitalist, in fact, alienates a use-value, and thus whatever he gives away is given as a 
+commodity. It is to this extent that the analogy with a commodity per se is complete. In the first place, it 
+is a value which passes from one hand to another. In the case of an ordinary commodity, a commodity as 
+such, the same value remains in the hands of the buyer and seller, only in different forms; both have the 
+same value which they had before the transaction, and which they had alienated — the one in the form of 
+a commodity, the other in the form of money. The difference is that in a loan the money-capitalist is the 
+only one in the transaction who gives away value; but he preserves it through the prospective return. In 
+the loan transaction just one party receives value, since only one party relinquishes value. — In the 
+second place, a real use-value is relinquished on the one side, and received and consumed on the other. 
+But in contrast to ordinary commodities this use-value is value in itself, namely the excess over the 
+original value realised through the use of money as capital. The profit is this use- value. 
+
+The use-value of the loaned money lies in its being able to serve as capital and, as such, to produce the 
+average profit under average conditions. [4] 
+
+What, now, does the industrial capitalist pay, and what is, therefore, the price of the loaned capital? "That 
+which men pay as interest for the use of what they borrow" is, according to Massie, "a part of the profit it 
+is capable of producing," 1. c, p. 49. [5] 
+
+What the buyer of an ordinary commodity buys is its use-value; what he pays for is its value. What the 
+borrower of money buys is likewise its use-value as capital; but what does he pay for? Surely not its 
+price, or value, as in the case of ordinary commodities. No change of form occurs in the value passing 
+between borrower and lender, as occurs between buyer and seller when it exists in one instance in the 
+form of money, and in another in the form of a commodity. The sameness of the alienated and returned 
+value is revealed here in an entirely different way. The sum of value, i.e., the money, is given away 
+without an equivalent, and is returned after a certain period. The lender always remains the owner of the 
+same value, even after it passes from his hands into those of the borrower. In an ordinary exchange of 
+commodities money always comes from the buyer's side; but in a loan it comes from the side of the 
+seller. He is the one who gives away money for a certain period, and the buyer of capital is the one who 
+receives it as a commodity. But this is only possible as long as the money acts as capital and is therefore 
+advanced. The borrower borrows money as capital, as a value producing more value. But at the moment 
+when it is advanced it is still only potential capital, like any other capital at its starting-point, the moment 
+it is advanced. It is only through its employment that it expands its value and realises itself as capital. 
+However, it has to be returned by the borrower as realised capital, hence as value plus surplus-value 
+(interest). And the latter can only be a portion of the realised profit. Only a portion, not all of it. For the 
+use-value of the loaned capital to the borrower consists in producing profit for him. Otherwise there 
+would not have been any alienation of use-value on the lender's part. On the other hand, not all the profit 
+can fall to the borrower's share. Otherwise he would pay nothing for the alienated use-value, and would 
+return the advanced money to the lender as ordinary money, not as capital, as realised capital, for it is 
+realised capital only as M+AM. 
+
+Both of them, lender and borrower, expend the same sum of money as capital. But it is only in the hands 
+of the latter that it serves as capital. The profit is not doubled by the double existence of the same sum of 
+money as capital for two persons. It can serve as capital for both of them only by dividing the profit. The 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 21 
+
+portion which falls to the lender is called interest. 
+
+The entire transaction, as assumed, takes place between two kinds of capitalists — the money-capitalist 
+and the industrial or merchant capitalist. 
+
+It must always be borne in mind that here capital as capital is a commodity, or that the commodity here 
+discussed is capital. All the relations in evidence here would therefore be irrational from the standpoint 
+of an ordinary commodity, or from that of capital in so far as it acts as a commodity-capital in the 
+process of reproduction. Lending and borrowing, instead of selling and buying, is a distinction which 
+here springs from the specific nature of the commodity — capital. Similarly, the fact that it is interest, not 
+the price of the commodity, which is paid here. If we want to call interest the price of money-capital, 
+then it is an irrational form of price quite at variance with the conception of the price of commodities. [61 
+The price is here reduced to its purely abstract and meaningless form, signifying that it is a certain sum of 
+money paid for something serving in one way or another as a use-value; whereas the conception of price 
+really signifies the value of some use-value expressed in money. 
+
+Interest, signifying the price of capital, is from the outset quite an irrational expression. The commodity 
+in question has a double value, first a value, and then a price different from this value, while price 
+represents the expression of value in money. Money-capital is nothing but a sum of money, or the value 
+of a certain quantity of commodities fixed in a sum of money. If a commodity is loaned out as capital, it 
+is only a disguised form of a sum of money. Because what is loaned out as capital is not so and so many 
+pounds of cotton, but so much and so much money existing in the form of cotton as its value. The price 
+of capital, therefore, refers to it as to a sum of money, even if not currency, as Mr. Torrens thinks (see 
+Footnote 59). How, then, can a sum of value have a price besides its own price, besides the price 
+expressed in its own money-form? Price, after all, is the value of a commodity (this is also true of the 
+market-price, whose difference from value is not one of quality, but only one of quantity, referring only 
+to the magnitude of value) as distinct from its use- value. A price which differs from value in quality is an 
+absurd contradiction. \1] 
+
+Capital manifests itself as capital through self-expansion. The degree of its self-expansion expresses the 
+quantitative degree in which it realises itself as capital. The surplus-value or profit produced by it — its 
+rate or magnitude — is measurable only by comparison with the value of the advanced capital. The 
+greater or lesser self-expansion of interest-bearing capital is, therefore, likewise only measurable by 
+comparing the amount of interest, its share in the total profits, with the value of the advanced capital. If, 
+therefore, price expresses the value of the commodity, then interest expresses the self-expansion of 
+money-capital and thus appears as the price paid for it to the lender. This shows how absurd it is from the 
+very first to apply hereto the simple relations of exchange through the medium of money in buying and 
+selling, as Proudhon does. The basic premise is precisely that money functions as capital and may thus be 
+transferred as such, i.e., as potential capital, to a third person. 
+
+Capital, however, appears here as a commodity, inasmuch as it is offered on the market, and the 
+use-value of money is actually alienated as capital. Its use- value, however, lies in producing profit. The 
+value of money or of commodities employed as capital does not depend on their value as money or as 
+commodities, but on the quantity of surplus-value they produce for their owner. The product of capital is 
+profit. On the basis of capitalist production it is merely a different use of money — whether it is expended 
+as money; or advanced as capital. Money, or commodities, are in themselves potentially capital, just as 
+labour-power is potential capital. Because, 1) money may be converted into elements of production and 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 21 
+
+is, as is, merely an abstract expression of them — their existence as value; 2) the material elements of 
+wealth have the property of potentially becoming capital, because their supplementary opposite, which 
+makes them into capital, namely wage-labour, is available on the basis of capitalist production. 
+
+The contradictory social features of material wealth — its antagonism to labour as wage-labour — are 
+expressed in capitalist property as such independently of the production process. This particular fact, set 
+apart from the process of capitalist production itself, from which it constantly results and as whose 
+constant result it serves as a constant prerequisite, expresses itself in that money and commodities alike 
+are latent, potential, capital, so that they may be sold as capital, and in that they can in this form 
+command the labour of others bestowing a claim to appropriate the labour of others, and therefore 
+represent self-expanding values. It also becomes clearly apparent that this relationship, and not the labour 
+offered as an equivalent on the part of the capitalist, supplies the title and the means to appropriate the 
+labour of others. 
+
+Furthermore, capital appears as a commodity, inasmuch as the division of profit into interest and profit 
+proper is regulated by supply and demand, that is, by competition, just as the market-prices of 
+commodities. But the difference here is just as apparent as the analogy. If supply and demand coincide, 
+the market-price of commodities corresponds to their price of production, i.e., their price then appears to 
+be regulated by the immanent laws of capitalist production, independently of competition, since the 
+fluctuations of supply and demand explain nothing but deviations of market-prices from prices of 
+production. These deviations mutually balance one another, so that in the course of certain longer periods 
+the average market-prices equal the prices of production. As soon as supply and demand coincide, these 
+forces cease to operate, i.e., compensate one another, and the general law determining prices then also 
+comes to apply to individual cases. The market-price then corresponds even in its immediate form, and 
+not only as the average of market-price movements, to the price of production, which is regulated by the 
+immanent laws of the mode of production itself. The same applies to wages. If supply and demand 
+coincide, they neutralise each other's effect, and wages equal the value of labour-power. But it is 
+different with the interest on money-capital. Competition does not, in this case, determine the deviations 
+from the rule. There is rather no law of division except that enforced by competition, because, as we shall 
+later see, no such thing as a "natural" rate of interest exists. By the natural rate of interest people merely 
+mean the rate fixed by free competition. There are no "natural" limits for the rate of interest. Whenever 
+competition does not merely determine the deviations and fluctuations, whenever, therefore, the 
+neutralisation of opposing forces puts a stop to any and all determination, the thing to be determined 
+becomes something arbitrary and lawless. More on this in the next chapter. 
+
+In the case of interest-bearing capital everything appears superficial: the advance of capital as mere 
+transfer from lender to borrower; the reflux of realised capital as mere transfer back, as a return payment 
+with interest, by borrower to lender. The same is true of the fact, immanent in the capitalist mode of 
+production, that the rate of profit is not only determined by the relation of profit made in one single 
+turnover to advanced capital-value, but also by the length of this period of turnover, hence determined as 
+profit yielded by industrial capital within definite spans of time. In the case of interest-bearing capital 
+this likewise appears on the surface to mean that a definite interest is paid to the lender for a definite time 
+span. 
+
+With his usual insight into the internal connection of things, the romantic Adam Miiller says (Elemente 
+der Staatskunst, Berlin, 1809, Dritter Theil, S. 138); "In determining the prices of things, time is not 
+considered; while in determining interest, time is the principal factor." He does not see how the time of 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 21 
+
+production and the time of circulation enter into the determination of commodity-prices, and how this is 
+just what determines the rate of profit for a given period of turnover of capital, whereas interest is 
+determined by precisely this determination of profit for a given period. His sagacity here, as elsewhere, 
+consists in observing the clouds of dust on the surface and presumptuously declaring this dust to be 
+something mysterious and important. 
+
+FOOTNOTES 
+
+[12 At this point certain passages may be quoted, in which the economists so conceive the matter. — "You 
+(the Bank of England) are very large dealers in the commodity of capital!" is the question posed to a 
+director of this bank when he was interrogated for the Report on Bank Acts on the witness stand. (H. of 
+C. 1857, p. 404.) 
+
+[21 "That a man who borrows money with a view of making a profit by it, should give some portion of 
+his profit to the lender, is a self-evident principle of natural justice." (Gilbart, The History and Principles 
+of Banking, London, 1834, p.463.) 
+
+\3] "A house," "money," etc., are not to be loaned as "capital" if Proudhon is to have his way, but are to 
+be sold as "commodities... cost-price" (p. 44). Luther stood somewhat above Proudhon. He knew that 
+profit-making does not depend on the manner of lending or buying: "They turn buying also into usury. 
+But this is really too much to bite off at once. We must first confine ourselves to one thing, usury in 
+lending, and after we have stopped that (after judgement-day), we shall not fail to preach against usury in 
+buying." (Martin Luther, An die Pfarherrn wider den Wucher zu predigen, Wittenberg, 1540.) 
+
+\4] "The equitableness of taking interest depends not upon a man's making or not making profit, but upon 
+its" (the borrowed) "being capable of producing profit if rightly employed". (An Essay on the Governing 
+Causes of the Natural Rate of Interest, wherein the sentiments of Sir W. Petty and Mr. Locke, on that 
+head, are considered, London, 1750, p. 49. The author of this anonymous work is J. Massie.) 
+
+[52 "Rich people, instead of employing their money themselves... let it out to other people for them to 
+make profit of, reserving for the owners a proportion of the profits so made" (1. c, pp. 23-24). 
+
+[62 "The term 'value,' when applied to currency, has three several meanings... 2) currency, actually in 
+hand... compared with the same amount of currency to be received upon a future day. In this case the 
+value of currency is measured by the rate of interest, and the rate of interest being determined by the ratio 
+between the amount of liable capital and the demand for it. " (Colonel R. Torrens, On the Operation of 
+the Bank Charter Act of 1844, etc., 2nd ed., 1847, pp. 5, 6.) 
+
+[72 "The ambiguity of the term 'value of money' or of the currency, when employed indiscriminately as it 
+is, to signify both value in exchange for commodities and value in use of capital, is a constant source of 
+confusion." (Tooke, Inquiry into the Currency Principle, p. 77.) The main confusion (implied in the 
+matter itself) that value as such (interest) becomes the use-value of capital, has escaped Tooke. 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 22 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 21 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 22 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+PartV 
+
+DIVISION OF PROFIT INTO INTEREST AND PROFIT 
+
+OF ENTERPRISE. 
+
+INTEREST-BEARING CAPITAL 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 22 
+
+Division of Profit. Rate of Interest. 
+Natural Rate of Interest. 
+
+
+
+The subject of this chapter, like all the other phenomena of credit we shall come across later on, cannot 
+be analysed here in detail. The competition between lenders and borrowers and the resultant minor 
+fluctuations of the money-market fall outside the scope of our inquiry. The circuit described by the rate 
+of interest during the industrial cycle requires for its presentation the analysis of this cycle itself, but this 
+likewise cannot be given here. The same applies to the greater or lesser approximate equalisation of the 
+rate of interest in the world-market. We are here concerned with the independent form of interest-bearing 
+capital and the individualisation of interest, as distinct from profit. 
+
+Since interest is merely a part of profit paid, according to our earlier assumption, by the industrial 
+capitalist to the money-capitalist, the maximum limit of interest is the profit itself, in which case the 
+portion pocketed by the productive capitalist would = 0. Aside from exceptional cases, in which interest 
+might actually be larger than profit, but then could not be paid out of the profit, one might consider as the 
+maximum limit of interest the total profit minus the portion (to be subsequently analysed) which resolves 
+itself into wages of superintendence. The minimum limit of interest is altogether indeterminable. It may 
+fall to any low. Yet in that case there will always be counteracting influences to raise it again above this 
+relative minimum. 
+
+"The relation between the sum paid for the use of capital and the capital expresses the rate of interest as 
+measured in money." "The rate of interest depends 1) on the rate of profit; 2) on the proportion in which 
+the entire profit is divided between the lender and borrower." (Economist, January 22, 1853.) "If that 
+which men pay as interest for the use of what they borrow, be a part of the profits it is capable of 
+producing, this interest must always be governed by those profits." (Massie, I.e., p.49.) 
+
+Let us first assume that there is a fixed relation between the total profit and that part of it which has to be 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 22 
+
+paid as interest to the money-capitalist. It is then clear that the interest will rise or fall with the total 
+profit, and the latter is determined by the general rate of profit and its fluctuations. For instance, if the 
+average rate of profit were = 20% and the interest = 1/4 of the profit, the rate of interest would = 5%; if the 
+average rate of profit were = 16%, the rate of interest would = 4%. With the rate of profit at 20%, the rate 
+of interest might rise to 8%, and the industrial capitalist would still make the same profit as he would at a 
+rate of profit = 16% and a rate of interest = 4%, namely 12%. Should interest rise only to 6% or 7%, he 
+would still keep a larger share of the profit. If the interest amounted to a constant quota of the average 
+profit, it would follow that the higher the general rate of profit, the greater the absolute difference 
+between the total profit and the interest, and the greater the portion of the total profit pocketed by the 
+productive capitalist, and vice versa. Take it that interest = 1/5 of the average profit. One-fifth of 10 is 2; 
+the difference between total profit and interest = 8. One-fifth of 20 = 4; difference = 20-4 = 16; 1/5 of 25 
+= 5; difference =25-5=20; 1/5 of 30 = 6; difference =30-6=24; 1/5 of 35=7; difference=35-7=28. The 
+different rates of interest of 4, 5, 6, 7% would here always represent no more than 1/5, or 20% of the total 
+profit. If the rates of profit are different, therefore, different rates of interest may represent the same 
+aliquot parts of the total profit, or the same percentage of the total profit. With such constant proportions 
+of interest, the industrial profit (the difference between the total profit and the interest) would rise 
+proportionately to the general rate of profit, and conversely. 
+
+All other conditions taken as equal, i.e., assuming the proportion between interest and total profit to be 
+more or less constant, the functioning capitalist is able and willing to pay a higher or lower interest 
+directly proportional to the level of the rate of profit.JJJ Since we have seen that the rate of profit is 
+inversely proportional to the development of capitalist production, it follows that the higher or lower rate 
+of interest in a country is in the same inverse proportion to the degree of industrial development, at least 
+in so far as the difference in the rate of interest actually expresses the difference in the rates of profit. It 
+shall later develop that this need not always be the case. In this sense it may be said that interest is 
+regulated through profit, or, more precisely, the general rate of profit. And this mode of regulating 
+interest applies even to its average. 
+
+In any event the average rate of profit is to be regarded as the ultimate determinant of the maximum limit 
+of interest. 
+
+The fact that interest is to be related to average profit will be considered presently at greater length. 
+Whenever a specified entity, such as profit, is to be divided between two parties, the matter naturally 
+hinges above all on the magnitude of the entity which is to be divided, and this, the magnitude of the 
+profit, is determined by its average rate. Suppose the general rate of profit, hence the magnitude of profit, 
+for a capital of given size, say, = 100, is assumed as given. Then the variations of interest will obviously 
+be inversely proportional to those of the part of profit remaining in the hands of the producing capitalist, 
+working with a borrowed capital. And the circumstances determining the amount of profit to be 
+distributed, of the value produced by unpaid labour, differ widely from those which determine its 
+distribution between these two kinds of capitalists, and frequently produce entirely opposite effects. [2J 
+
+If we observe the cycles in which modern industry moves — state of inactivity, mounting revival, 
+prosperity, over-production, crisis, stagnation, state of inactivity, etc., which fall beyond the scope of our 
+analysis — we shall find that a low rate of interest generally corresponds to periods of prosperity or extra 
+profit, a rise in interest separates prosperity and its reverse, and a maximum of interest up to a point of 
+extreme usury corresponds to the period of crisis.]T[ The summer of 1843 ushered in a period of 
+remarkable prosperity; the rate of interest, still 4i/2% in the spring of 1842, fell to 2% in the spring and 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 22 
+
+summer of 1843;[4J in September it fell as low as li/2% (Gilbart, I, p. 166); whereupon it rose to 8% and 
+higher during the crisis of 1847. 
+
+It is possible, however, for low interest to go along with stagnation, and for moderately rising interest to 
+go along with revived activity. 
+
+The rate of interest reaches its peak during crises, when money is borrowed at any cost to meet payments. 
+Since a rise in interest implies a fall in the price of securities, this simultaneously offers a fine 
+opportunity to people with available money-capital, to acquire at ridiculously low prices such 
+interest-bearing securities as must, in the course of things, at least regain their average price as soon as 
+the rate of interest falls again. \5] 
+
+However, the rate of interest also has a tendency to fall quite independently of the fluctuations in the rate 
+of profit. And, indeed, due to two main causes: 
+
+I. "Were we even to suppose that capital was never borrowed with any view but to productive 
+employment, I think it very possible that interest might vary without any change in the rate of gross 
+profits. For, as a nation advances in the career of wealth, a class of men springs up and increases more 
+and more, who by the labours of their ancestors find themselves in the possession of funds sufficiently 
+ample to afford a handsome maintenance from the interest alone. Very many also who during youth and 
+middle age were actively engaged in business, retire in their latter days' to live quietly on the interest of 
+the sums they have themselves accumulated. This class, as well as the former, has a tendency to increase 
+with the increasing riches of the country, for those who begin with a tolerable stock are likely to make an 
+independence sooner than they who commence with little. Thus it comes to pass, that in old and rich 
+countries, the amount of national capital belonging to those who are unwilling to take the trouble of 
+employing it themselves, bears a larger proportion to the whole productive stock of the society, than in 
+newly settled and poorer districts. How much more numerous in proportion to the population is the class 
+of rentiers... in England! As the class of rentiers increases, so also does that of lenders of capital, for they 
+are one and the same." (Ramsay, An Essay on the Distribution of Wealth, pp. 201-02.) 
+
+II. The development of the credit system and the attendant ever-growing control of industrialists and 
+merchants over the money savings of all classes of society that is effected through the bankers, and the 
+progressive concentration of these savings in amounts which can serve as money-capital, must also 
+depress the rate of interest. More about this later. 
+
+With reference to the determination of the rate of interest, Ramsay says that it "depends partly upon the 
+rate of gross profits, partly on the proportion in which these are separated into profits of capital and those 
+of enterprise. This proportion again depends upon the competition between the lenders of capital and the 
+borrowers; which competition is influenced, though by no means entirely regulated, by the rate of gross 
+profit expected to be realised.[61 And the reason why competition is not exclusively regulated by this 
+cause, is, because on the one hand many borrow without any view to productive employment; and, on the 
+other, because the proportion of the whole capital to be lent, varies with the riches of the country 
+independently of any change in gross profits." (Ramsay, 1. c, pp. 206-07.) 
+
+To determine the average rate of interest we must 1) calculate the average rate of interest during its 
+variations in the major industrial cycles; and 2) find the rate of interest for investments which require 
+long-term loans of capital. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 22 
+
+The average rate of interest prevailing in a certain country — as distinct from the continually fluctuating 
+market rates — cannot be determined by any law. In this sphere there is no such thing as a natural rate of 
+interest in the sense in which economists speak of a natural rate of profit and a natural rate of wages. 
+Massie has rightly said in this respect (p.49): "The only thing which any man can be in doubt about on 
+this occasion, is, what proportion of these profits do of right belong to the borrower, and what to the 
+lender; and this there is no other method of determining than by the opinions of borrowers and lenders in 
+general; for right and wrong, in this respect, are only what common consent makes so." Equating supply 
+and demand — assuming the average rate of profit as given — means nothing. Wherever else this formula 
+is resorted to (and this is then practically correct), it serves as a formula to find the fundamental rule (the 
+regulating limits or limiting magnitudes) which is independent of, and rather determines, competition; 
+notably as a formula for those who are held captive by the practice of competition, and by its phenomena 
+and the conceptions arising out of them, to arrive at what is again but a superficial idea of the inner 
+connection of economic relations obtaining within competition. It is a method to pass from the variations 
+that go with competition to the limits of these variations. This is not the case with the average rate of 
+interest. There is no good reason why average conditions of competition, the balance between lender and 
+borrower, should give the lender an interest rate of 3, 4, 5%, etc., or else a certain percentage of the gross 
+profits, say 20% or 50%, on his capital. Wherever it is competition as such which determines anything, 
+the determination is accidental, purely empirical, and only pedantry or fantasy would seek to represent 
+this accident as a necessity .[7] Nothing is more amusing in the reports of Parliament for 1857 and 1858 
+concerning bank legislation and commercial crises than to hear of "the real rate produced" as the 
+directors of the Bank of England, London bankers, country bankers, and professional theorists chatter 
+back and forth, never getting beyond such commonplaces as that "the price paid for the use of loanable 
+capital should vary with the supply of such capital," that "a high rate and a low profit cannot permanently 
+exist," and similar specious platitudes. [8] Customs, juristic tradition, etc., have as much to do with 
+determining the average rate of interest as competition itself, in so far as it exists not merely as an 
+average, but rather as actual magnitude. In many law disputes, where interest has to be calculated, an 
+average rate of interest has to be assumed as the legal rate. If we inquire further as to why the limits of a 
+mean rate of interest cannot be deduced from general laws, we find the answer lies simply in the nature 
+of interest. It is merely a part of the average profit. The same capital appears in two roles-as loanable 
+capital in the lender's hands and as industrial, or commercial, capital in the hands of the functioning 
+capitalist. But it functions just once, and produces profit just once. In the production process itself the 
+nature of capital as loanable capital plays no role. How the two parties who have claim to it divide the 
+profit is in itself just as purely empirical a matter belonging to the realm of accident as the distribution of 
+percentage shares of a common profit in a business partnership. Two entirely different elements — 
+labour-power and capital — act as determinants in the division between surplus-value and wages, which 
+division essentially determines the rate of profit; these are functions of two independent variables, which 
+limit one another; and it is their qualitative difference that is the source of the quantitative division of the 
+produced value. We shall see later that the same occurs in the splitting of surplus-value into rent and 
+profit. Nothing of the kind occurs in the case of interest. Here the qualitative differentiation as we shall 
+presently see, proceeds rather from the purely quantitative division of the same sum of surplus-value. 
+
+It follows from the aforesaid that there is no such thing as a "natural" rate of interest. But if, unlike the 
+general rate of profit, there is on the one hand no general law to determine the limits of the average 
+interest, or average rate of interest as distinct from the continually fluctuating market rates of interest, 
+because it is merely a question of dividing the gross profit between two owners of capital under different 
+title; on the other hand, the rate of interest — be it the average or the market rate prevalent in each 
+
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+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 22 
+
+particular case-appears as a uniform, definite and tangible magnitude in a quite different way from the 
+general rate of profit. [91 
+
+The rate of interest is similarly related to the rate of profit as the market-price of a commodity is to its 
+value. In so far as the rate of interest is determined by the rate of profit, this is always the general rate of 
+profit and not any specific rate of profit prevailing in some particular branch of industry, and still less 
+any extra profit which an individual capitalist may make in a particular sphere of business JlOl It is a 
+fact, therefore, that the general rate of profit appears as an empirical, given reality in the average rate of 
+interest, although the latter is not a pure or reliable expression of the former. 
+
+It is indeed true that the rate of interest itself varies in accordance with the different classes of securities 
+offered by borrowers, and in accordance with the length of time for which the money is borrowed; but it 
+is uniform in each of these classes at a given moment. This distinction, then, does not militate against a 
+fixed and uniform appearance of the rate of interest, fill 
+
+The average rate of interest appears in every country over fairly long periods as a constant magnitude, 
+because the general rate of profit varies only at longer intervals — in spite of constant variations in 
+specific rates of profit, in which a change in one sphere is offset by an opposite change in another. And 
+its relative constancy is revealed precisely in this more or less constant nature of the average, or 
+common, rate of interest. 
+
+As concerns the perpetually fluctuating market rate of interest, however, it exists at any moment as a 
+fixed magnitude, just as the market-price of commodities, because in the money-market all loanable 
+capital continually faces functioning capital as an aggregate mass, so that the relation between the supply 
+of loanable capital on one side, and the demand for it on the other, decides the market level of interest at 
+any given time. This is all the more so, the more the development, and the attendant concentration, of the 
+credit system gives to loanable capital a general social character and throws it all at once on the 
+money-market. On the other hand, the general rate of profit is never anything more than a tendency, a 
+movement to equalise specific rates of profit. The competition between capitalists -- which is itself this 
+movement toward equilibrium — consists here of their gradually withdrawing capital from spheres in 
+which profit is for an appreciable length of time below average, and gradually investing capital into 
+spheres in which profit is above average. Or it may also consist in additional capital distributing itself 
+gradually and in varying proportions among these spheres. It is continual variation in supply and 
+withdrawal of capital in regard to these different spheres, and never a simultaneous mass effect, as in the 
+determination of the rate of interest. 
+
+We have seen that interest-bearing capital, although a category which differs absolutely from a 
+commodity, becomes a commodity sui generis, so that interest becomes its price, fixed at all times by 
+supply and demand like the market-price of an ordinary commodity. The market rate of interest, while 
+fluctuating continually, appears therefore at any given moment just as constantly fixed and uniform as 
+the market-price of a commodity prevailing in each individual case. Money-capitalists supply this 
+commodity, and functioning capitalists buy it, creating the demand for it. This does not occur when 
+equalisation creates a general rate of profit. If prices of commodities in one sphere are below or above 
+the price of production (wherein we deliberately leave aside the fluctuations attendant upon the various 
+phases of the industrial cycle in each and every enterprise) the balance is effected through the expansion 
+or curtailment of production, i.e., the expansion or curtailment of the masses of commodities thrown on 
+the market by industrial capitals — caused by inflow or outflow of capital to and from individual spheres 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 22 
+
+of production. It is by this equalisation of the average market-prices of commodities to prices of 
+production that deviations of specific rates of profit from the general, or average, rate of profit are 
+corrected. It cannot be that in this process industrial or mercantile capital as such should ever assume the 
+appearance of commodities vis-a-vis the buyer, as in the case of interest-bearing capital. If perceptible at 
+all, this process is so only in the fluctuations and equalisations of market-prices of commodities to prices 
+of production, not as a direct fixation of the average profit. The general rate of profit is, indeed, 
+determined 1) by the surplus-value produced by the total capital, 2) by the proportion of this 
+surplus-value to the value of the total capital, and 3) by competition, but only in so far as this is a 
+movement whereby capitals invested in particular production spheres seek to draw equal dividends out of 
+this surplus-value in proportion to their relative magnitudes. The general rate of profit, therefore, derives 
+actually from causes far different and far more complicated than the market rate of interest, which is 
+directly and immediately determined by the proportion between supply and demand, and hence is not as 
+tangible and obvious a fact as the rate of interest. The individual rates of profit in various spheres of 
+production are themselves more or less uncertain; but in so far as they appear, it is not their uniformity 
+but their differences which are perceptible. The general rate of profit, however, appears only as the 
+lowest limit of profit, not as an empirical, directly visible form of the actual rate of profit. 
+
+In emphasising this difference between the rate of interest and the rate of profit, we still omit the 
+following two points, which favour consolidation of the rate of interest: 1) the historical pre-existence of 
+interest-bearing capital and the existence of a traditional general rate of interest; 2) the far greater direct 
+influence exerted by the world-market on establishing the rate of interest, irrespective of the economic 
+conditions of a country, as compared with its influence on the rate of profit. 
+
+The average profit does not obtain as a directly established fact, but rather is to be determined as an end 
+result of the equalisation of opposite fluctuations. Not so with the rate of interest. It is a thing fixed daily 
+in its general, at least local, validity-a thing which serves industrial and mercantile capitals even as a 
+prerequisite and a factor in the calculation of their operation. It becomes the general endowment of every 
+sum of money of £100 to yield £2, 3, 4, 5. Meteorological reports never denote the readings of the 
+barometer and thermometer with greater accuracy than stock exchange reports denote the rate of interest, 
+not for one or another capital, but for capital in the money-market, i.e., for loanable capital generally. 
+
+In the money-market only lenders and borrowers face one another. The commodity has the same 
+form-money. All specific forms of capital in accordance with its investment in particular spheres of 
+production or circulation are here obliterated. It exists in the undifferentiated homogeneous form of 
+independent value-money. The competition of individual spheres does not affect it. They are all thrown 
+together as borrowers of money, and capital confronts them all in a form, in which it is as yet indifferent 
+to the prospective manner of its investment. It obtains most emphatically in the supply and demand of 
+capital as essentially the common capital of a class — something industrial capital does only in the 
+movement and competition of capital between the various individual spheres. On the other hand, 
+money-capital in the money-market actually possesses the form, in which, indifferent to its specific 
+employment, it is divided as a common element among the various spheres, among the capitalist class, as 
+the requirements of production in each individual sphere may dictate. Moreover, with the development of 
+large-scale industry money-capital, so far as it appears on the market, is not represented by some 
+individual capitalist, not the owner of one or another fraction of the capital in the market, but assumes the 
+nature of a concentrated, organised mass, which, quite different from actual production, is subject to the 
+control of bankers, i.e., the representatives of social capital. So that, as concerns the form of demand, 
+loanable capital is confronted by the class as a whole, whereas in the province of supply it is loanable 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 22 
+
+capital which obtains en masse. 
+
+These are some of the reasons why the general rate of profit appears blurred and hazy alongside the 
+definite interest rate, which may fluctuate in magnitude, but always confronts borrowers as given and 
+fixed because it varies uniformly for all of them. Just as variations in the value of money do not prevent 
+it from having the same value vis-a-vis all commodities. Just as the daily fluctuations in market-prices of 
+commodities do not prevent them from being daily reported in the papers. So the rate of interest is 
+regularly reported as "the price of money." It is so, because capital itself is being offered here in the form 
+of money as a commodity. The fixation of its price is thus a fixation of its market-price, as with all other 
+commodities. The rate of interest, therefore, always appears as the general rate of interest, as so much 
+money for so much money, as a definite quantity. The rate of profit, on the other hand, may vary even 
+within the same sphere for commodities with the same price, depending on different conditions under 
+which different capitals produce the same commodity, because the rate of profit of an individual capital 
+is not determined by the market-price of a commodity, but rather by the difference between market-price 
+and cost-price. And these different rates of profit can strike a balance — first within the same sphere and 
+then between different spheres — only through continual fluctuation. 
+
+
+
+(Note for later elaboration.) A specific form of credit: It is known that when money serves as a means of 
+payment instead of a means of purchase, the commodity is alienated, but its value is realised only later. If 
+payment is not made until after the commodity has again been sold, this sale does not appear as the result 
+of the purchase; rather it is through this sale that the purchase is realised. In other words, the sale 
+becomes a means of purchase. Secondly: titles to debts, bills of exchange, etc., become means of 
+payment for the creditor. Thirdly: the compensation of titles to debts replaces money. 
+
+FOOTNOTES 
+
+T 1 1 "The natural rate of interest is governed by the profits of trade to particulars." (Massie, 1. c, p. 51.) 
+
+\2] At this point the manuscript contains the following remark: "The course of this chapter shows that it 
+is preferable, before analysing the laws of the distribution of profits, to ascertain first the way in which 
+the division of quantity becomes one of quality. To make a transition from the previous chapter, we need 
+but assume that interest is a certain indefinite portion of profit." 
+
+£31 "In the first period, immediately after pressure, money is abundant without speculation; in the second 
+period, money is abundant and speculations abound; in the third period, speculation begins to decline and 
+money is in demand, in the fourth period, money is scarce and a pressure arrives." (Gilbart, A Practical 
+Treatise on Banking, 5th ed., Vol. I, London, 1849, p. 149.) 
+
+[4J Tooke explains this "by the accumulation of surplus-capital necessarily accompanying the scarcity of 
+profitable employment for it in previous years, by the release of hoards, and by the revival of confidence 
+in commercial prospects." (History of Prices from 1839 till 1847, London, 1848, p. 54. 
+
+\5] "An old customer of a banker was refused a loan upon a £200,000 bond; when about to leave to make 
+known his suspension of payment, he was told there was no necessity for the step, under the 
+circumstances the banker would buy the bond at £50,000." ([H. Roy] The Theory of the Exchanges. The 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 22 
+
+Bank Charter Act of 1844, etc., London, 1869, p. 50.) 
+
+[61 Since the rate of interest is on the whole determined by the average rate of profit, inordinate 
+swindling is often bound up with a low rate of interest. For instance, the railway swindle in the summer 
+of 1844. The rate of interest of the Bank of England was not raised to 3% until 16th October, 1844. 
+
+[71 J G. Opdyke, for instance, in his Treatise on Political Economy (New York, 1851) makes a very 
+unsuccessful attempt to explain the universality of a 5% rate of interest by eternal laws. Mr. Karl Arnd is 
+still more naive in Die naturgemdsse Volkswirtschaft gegeniiber dem Monopoltengeist und dem 
+Kommunismus, etc., Hanau, 1845. It is stated there: "In the natural course of goods production there is 
+just one phenomenon, which, in the fully settled countries, seems in some measure to regulate the rate of 
+interest; this is the proportion, in which the timber in European forests is augmented through their annual 
+growth. This new growth occurs quite independently of their exchange-value, at the rate of 3 or 4 to 
+100." (How queer that trees should see to their new growth independently of their exchange-value!) 
+"According to this a drop in the rate of interest below its present level in the richest countries cannot be 
+expected" (p. 124). (He means, because the new growth of the trees is independent of their 
+exchange- value, however much their exchange-value may depend on their new growth.) This deserves to 
+be called "the primordial forest rate of interest." Its discoverer makes a further laudable contribution in 
+this work to "our science" as the "philosopher of the dog tax." [Marx ironically calls K. Arnd the 
+"philosopher of the dog tax" because in a special paragraph in his book (§ 88, 5.420-24) he advocated 
+that tax. - Ed.] 
+
+[81 The Bank of England raises and lowers the rate of its discount, always, of course, with due 
+consideration of the rate prevailing in the open market, in accordance with imports and exports of gold. 
+"By which gambling in discounts, by anticipation of the alterations in the bank-rate, has now become 
+half the trade of the great heads of the money centre" — i.e., of the London money-market. ([H. Roy] The 
+Theory of the Exchanges, etc. , p. 113.) 
+
+[9J "The price of commodities fluctuates' continually; they are all made for different uses; the money 
+serves for all purposes. The commodities, even those of the same kind, differ according to quality; cash 
+money is always of the same value, or at least is assumed to be so. Thus it is that the price of money, 
+which we designate by the term interest, has a greater stability and uniformity than that of any other 
+thing." (J. Steuart, Principles of Political Economy, French translation, 1789, IV, p. 27.) 
+
+f 101 "This rule of dividing profits is not, however, to be applied particularly to every lender and 
+borrower, but to lenders and borrowers in general... remarkably great and small gains are the reward of 
+skill and the want of understanding, which lenders have nothing at all to do with; for as they will not 
+suffer by the one, they ought not to benefit by the other. What has been said of particular men in the 
+same business is applicable to particular sorts of business; if the merchants and tradesmen employed in 
+any one branch of trade get more by what they borrow than the common profits made by other merchants 
+and tradesmen of the same country, the extraordinary gain is theirs, though it required only common skill 
+and understanding to get it; and not the lenders', who supplied them with money... for the lenders would 
+not have lent their money to carry on any branch of trade up on lower terms than would admit of paying 
+so much as the common rate of interest; and therefore they ought not to receive more than that, whatever 
+advantages may be made by their money." (Massie, 1. c, pp. 50, 51.) 
+
+fill Bank-rate 5% 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 22 
+
+Market rate of discount, 60 days' drafts 35/8 % 
+
+Ditto, 8 months' 3 1/2% 
+
+Ditto, 6 months' 35/16 % 
+
+Loans to bill-brokers, day to day 1 to 2% 
+
+Ditto, for one week 3% 
+
+Last rate for fortnight, loans to stockbrokers 43/4 to 5% 
+
+Deposit allowance (banks) 3 1/2% 
+
+Ditto (discount houses) 3 to 3 1/4 % 
+
+How large this difference may be for one and the same day is shown in the preceding figures of the rate 
+
+of interest of the London money-market on December 9, 1889, taken from the City article of the Daily 
+
+News of December 10. 
+
+The minimum is 1%, the maximum 5%. [F.E.] 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 23 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 23 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+PartV 
+
+DIVISION OF PROFIT INTO INTEREST AND PROFIT 
+
+OF ENTERPRISE. 
+
+INTEREST-BEARING CAPITAL 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 23 
+
+
+
+Interest and Profit of Enterprise 
+
+
+
+Interest, as we have seen in the two preceding chapters, appears originally, is originally, and remains in 
+fact merely a portion of the profit, i.e., of the surplus-value, which the functioning capitalist, industrialist 
+or merchant has to pay to the owner and lender of money-capital whenever he uses loaned capital instead 
+of his own. If he employs only his own capital, no such division of profit takes place; the latter is then 
+entirely his. Indeed, as long as the owners of the capital employ it on their own in the reproduction 
+process, they do not compete in determining the rate of interest. This alone shows that the category of 
+interest — impossible without determining the rate of interest — is alien to the movements of industrial 
+capital as such. 
+
+"The rate of interest may be defined to be that proportional sum which the lender is content to receive, 
+and the borrower to pay, annually, or for any longer or shorter period, for the use of a certain amount of 
+moneyed capital... When the owner of a capital employs it actively in reproduction, he does not come 
+under the head of those capitalists, the proportion of whom, to the number of borrowers, determines the 
+rate of interest." (Th. Tooke, History of Prices, London, 1838, II, pp. 355-56.) It is indeed only the 
+separation of capitalists into money-capitalists and industrial capitalists that transforms a portion of the 
+profit into interest, that generally creates the category of interest; and it is only the competition between 
+these two kinds of capitalists which creates the rate of interest. 
+
+As long as capital functions in the process of reproduction-assuming that it even belongs to the industrial 
+capitalist and he has no need of paying it back to a lender — the capitalist, as a private individual, does 
+not have at his disposal this capital itself, but only the profit, which he may spend as revenue. As long as 
+his capital functions as capital, it belongs to the process of reproduction, is tied up in it. He is, indeed, its 
+owner, but this ownership does not enable him to dispose of it in any other way, so long as he uses it as 
+capital for the exploitation of labour. The same is true of the money-capitalist. So long as his capital is 
+loaned out and thereby serves as money-capital, it brings him interest, a portion of the profit, but he 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 23 
+
+cannot dispose of the principal. This is evident whenever he loans out his capital for, say, a year, or more, 
+and receives interest at certain stipulated times without the return of his principal. But even the return of 
+the principal makes no difference here. If he gets it back, he must always loan it out again, so long as it is 
+to function for him as capital — here as money-capital. As long as he keeps it in his own hands, it does 
+not collect interest and does not act as capital; and as long as it does gather interest and serve as capital, it 
+is out of his hands. Hence the possibility of loaning out capital for all time. The following remarks by 
+Tooke directed against Bosanquet are, therefore, entirely wrong. He quotes Bosanquet (Metallic, Paper 
+and Credit Currency, London, 1842, p. 73): "Were the rate of interest reduced as low as 1%, capital 
+borrowed would be placed nearly on a par with capital possessed." To this Tooke adds the following 
+marginal note: "That a capital borrowed at that, or even a lower rate, should be considered nearly on a 
+par with capital possessed, is a proposition so strange as hardly to warrant serious notice were it not 
+advanced by a writer so intelligent, and, on some points of the subject, so well informed. Has he 
+overlooked the circumstance, or does he consider it of little consequence, that there must, by the 
+supposition, be a condition of repayment?" (Th. Tooke, An Inquiry into the Currency Principle , 2nd ed., 
+London, 1844, p. 80.) If interest were = 0, the industrial capitalist operating on borrowed capital would 
+stand on a par with a capitalist using his own capital. Both would pocket the same average profit, and 
+capital, whether borrowed or owned, serves as capital only as long as it produces profit. The condition of 
+return payment would alter nothing. The nearer the rate of interest approaches zero, falling, for instance, 
+to 1%, the nearer borrowed capital is to being on a par with owner's capital. So long as money-capital is 
+to exist as money-capital, it must always be loaned out, and indeed at the prevailing rate of interest, say 
+of 1%, and always to the same class of industrial and commercial capitalists. So long as these function as 
+capitalists, the sole difference between the one working with borrowed capital and the other with his own 
+is that the former must pay interest and the latter must not; the one pockets the entire profit p, and the 
+other p-i, the profit minus the interest. The nearer interest approaches zero, the nearer p-i approaches p, 
+and hence the nearer the two capitals are to being on a par. The one must pay back the capital and borrow 
+anew; yet the other must likewise advance it again and again to the production process, so long as his 
+capital is to function, and cannot dispose of it freely, independent of this process. The sole remaining 
+difference between the two is the obvious difference that one is the owner of his capital, and the other is 
+not. 
+
+The question which now arises is this. How does this purely quantitative division of profit into net profit 
+and interest turn into a qualitative one? In other words, how is it that a capitalist who employs solely his 
+own, not borrowed capital, classifies a portion of his gross profit under the specific category of interest 
+and as such calculates it separately? And, furthermore, how is it that all capital, whether borrowed or not, 
+is differentiated as interest-bearing capital from itself as capital producing a net profit? 
+
+It is understood that not every accidental quantitative division of profit turns in this manner into a 
+qualitative one. For instance, some industrial capitalists join hands to operate a business and then divide 
+the profit among themselves in accordance with some legal agreement. Others do their business, each on 
+his own, without any partners. These last do not calculate their profit under two heads — one part as 
+individual profit, and the other as company profit for their non-existent partners. In this case the 
+quantitative division therefore does not become a qualitative one. This occurs whenever ownership 
+happens to be vested in several juridical persons. It does not occur whenever this is not the case. 
+
+In order to answer this question, we must dwell somewhat longer on the actual point of departure in the 
+formation of interest; that is, we must proceed from the assumption that the money-capitalist and 
+industrial capitalist really confront one another not just as legally different persons, but as persons 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 23 
+
+playing entirely different roles in the reproduction process, or as persons in whose hands the same capital 
+really performs a two-fold and wholly different movement. The one merely loans it, the other employs it 
+productively. 
+
+For the productive capitalist who works on borrowed capital, the gross profit falls into two parts — the 
+interest, which he is to pay the lender, and the surplus over and above the interest, which makes up his 
+own share of the profit If the general rate of profit is given, this latter portion is determined by the rate of 
+interest; and if the rate of interest is given, then by the general rate of profit. And furthermore: however 
+the gross profit, the actual value of the total profit, may diverge in each individual case from the average 
+profit, the portion belonging to the functioning capitalist is determined by the interest, since this is fixed 
+by the general rate of interest (leaving aside any special legal stipulations) and assumed to be given 
+beforehand, before the process of production begins, hence before its result, the gross profit, is achieved. 
+We have seen that the actual specific product of capital is surplus-value, or, more precisely, profit. But 
+for the capitalist working on borrowed capital it is not profit, but profit minus interest, that portion of 
+profit which remains to him after paying interest. This portion of the profit, therefore, necessarily appears 
+to him to be the product of a capital as long as it is operative; and this it is, as far as he is concerned, 
+because he represents capital only as functioning capital. He is its personification as long as it functions, 
+and it functions as long as it is profitably invested in industry or commerce and such operations are 
+undertaken with it through its employer as are prescribed by the branch of industry concerned. As 
+distinct from interest, which he has to pay to the lender out of the gross profit, the portion of profit which 
+falls to his share necessarily assumes the form of industrial or commercial profit, or, to use a German 
+term embracing both, the form of Unternehmergewinn (profit of enterprise). If the gross profit equals the 
+average profit, the size of the profit of enterprise is determined exclusively by the rate of interest. If the 
+gross profit deviates from the average profit, its difference from the average profit (after interest is 
+deducted from both) is determined by all the circumstances which cause a temporary deviation, be it of 
+the rate of profit in any particular sphere from the general rate of profit, or the profit of some individual 
+capitalist in a certain sphere from the average profit of this sphere. We have seen however that the rate of 
+profit within the production process itself does not depend on surplus-value alone, but also on many 
+other circumstances, such as purchase prices of means of production, methods more productive than the 
+average, on savings of constant capital, etc. And aside from the price of production, it depends on special 
+circumstances, and in every single business transaction on the greater or lesser shrewdness and industry 
+of the capitalist, whether, and to what extent, he buys or sells above or below the price of production and 
+thus appropriates a greater or smaller portion of the total surplus-value in the process of circulation. In 
+any case, the quantitative division of the gross profit turns here into a qualitative one, and all the more so 
+because the quantitative division itself depends on what is to be divided, the manner in which the active 
+capitalist manages his capital, and what gross profit it yields to him as a functioning capital, i.e., in 
+consequence of his functions as an active capitalist. The functioning capitalist is here assumed as a 
+non-owner of capital. Ownership of the capital is represented in relation to him by the money-capitalist, 
+the lender. The interest he pays to the latter thus appears as that portion of gross profit which is due to the 
+ownership of capital as such. As distinct from this, that portion of profit which falls to the active 
+capitalist appears now as profit of enterprise, deriving solely from the operations, or functions, which he 
+performs with the capital in the process of reproduction, hence particularly those functions which he 
+performs as entrepreneur in industry or commerce. In relation to him interest appears therefore as the 
+mere fruit of owning capital, of capital as such abstracted from the reproduction process of capital, 
+inasmuch as it does not "work," does not function; while profit of enterprise appears to him as the 
+exclusive fruit of the functions which he performs with the capital, as the fruit of the movement and 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 23 
+
+performance of capital, of a performance which appears to him as his own activity, as opposed to the 
+inactivity, the non-participation of the money-capitalist in the production process. This qualitative 
+distinction between the two portions of gross profit that interest is the fruit of capital as such, of the 
+ownership of capital irrespective of the production process, and that profit of enterprise is the fruit of 
+performing capital, of capital functioning in the production process, and hence of the active role played 
+by the employer of the capital in the reproduction process — this qualitative distinction is by no means 
+merely a subjective notion of the money-capitalist, on the one hand, and the industrial capitalist, on the 
+other. It rests upon an objective fact, for interest flows to the money-capitalist, to the lender, who is the 
+mere owner of capital, hence represents only ownership of capital before the production process and 
+outside of it; while the profit of enterprise flows to the functioning capitalist alone, who is non-owner of 
+the capital. 
+
+The merely quantitative division of the gross profit between two different persons who both have 
+different legal claims to the same capital, and hence to the profit produced by it, thus turns into a 
+qualitative division for both the industrial capitalist in so far as he is operating on borrowed capital, and 
+for the money-capitalist, in so far as he does not himself apply his capital. One portion of the profit 
+appears now as fruit due as such to capital in one form., as interest; the other portion appears as a specific 
+fruit of capital in an opposite form, and thus as profit of enterprise. One appears exclusively as the fruit 
+of operating with the capital, the fruit of performing capital, or of the functions performed by the active 
+capitalist. And this ossification and individualisation of the two parts of the gross profit in respect to one 
+another, as though they originated from two essentially different sources, now takes firm shape for the 
+entire capitalist class and the total capital. And, indeed, regardless of whether the capital employed by the 
+active capitalist is borrowed or not, and whether the capital belonging to the money-capitalist is 
+employed by himself or not. The profit of every capital, and consequently also the average profit 
+established by the equalisation of capitals, splits, or is separated, into two qualitatively different, 
+mutually independent and separately individualised parts, to wit — interest and profit of enterprise — both 
+of which are determined by separate laws. The capitalist operating on his own capital, like the one 
+operating on borrowed capital, divides the gross profit into interest due to himself as owner, as his own 
+lender, and into profit of enterprise due to him as to an active capitalist performing his function. As 
+concerns this division, therefore, as a qualitative one, it is immaterial whether the capitalist really has to 
+share with another, or not. The employer of capital, even when working with his own capital, splits into 
+two personalities — the owner of capital and the employer of capital; with reference to the categories of 
+profit which it yields, his capital also splits into capital-property, capital outside the production process, 
+and yielding interest of itself, and capital in the production process which yields a profit of enterprise 
+through its function. 
+
+Interest, therefore, becomes firmly established in a way that it no longer appears as a division of gross 
+profit of indifference to production, which occurs occasionally when the industrial capitalist happens to 
+operate with someone else's capital. His profit splits into interest and profit of enterprise even when he 
+operates on his own capital. A merely quantitative division thus turns into a qualitative one. It occurs 
+regardless of the fortuitous circumstance whether the industrial capitalist is, or is not, the owner of his 
+capital. It is not only a matter of different quotas of profit assigned to different persons, but two different 
+categories of profit which are differently related to the capital, hence related to different aspects of the 
+capital. 
+
+Now that this division of gross profit into interest and profit of enterprise has become a qualitative one, it 
+is easy to discover the reasons why it acquires this character of a qualitative division for the total capital 
+
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+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 23 
+
+and the entire class of capitalists. 
+
+Firstly, this follows from the simple empirical circumstance that the majority of industrial capitalists, 
+even if in different numerical proportions, work with their own and with borrowed capital, and that at 
+different times the proportion between one's own and borrowed capital changes. 
+
+Secondly, the transformation of a portion of the gross profit into the form of interest converts its other 
+portion into profit of enterprise. The latter is, indeed, but the opposite form assumed by the excess of 
+gross profit over interest as soon as this exists as an independent category. The entire analysis of the 
+problem how gross profit is differentiated into interest and profit of enterprise, resolves itself into the 
+inquiry of how a portion of the gross profit becomes universally ossified and individualised as interest. 
+Yet historically interest-bearing capital existed as a completed traditional form, and hence interest as a 
+completed sub-division of surplus-value produced by capital, long before the capitalist mode of 
+production and its attendant conceptions of capital and profit. Thus it is that to the popular mind 
+money-capital, or interest-bearing capital, is still capital as such, as capital par excellence. Thus it is, on 
+the other hand, that up to the time of Massie the notion prevailed that it is money as such which is paid in 
+interest. The fact that loaned capital yields interest whether actually employed as capital or not — even 
+when borrowed only for consumption — lends strength to the idea that this form of capital exists 
+independently. The best proof of the independence which interest possessed during the early periods of 
+the capitalist mode of production in reference to profit, and which interest-bearing capital possessed in 
+reference to industrial capital, is that it was discovered (by Massie [[J. Massie] An Essay on the 
+Governing Causes of the Natural Rate of Interest, London, 1750. — Ed.] and after him by Hume [D. 
+Hume, "On Interest." In: "Essays and Treatises on Several Subjects," Vol. I, London, 1764. — Ed.] ) as 
+late as the middle of the 18th century, that interest is but a portion of the gross profit, and that such a 
+discovery was at all necessary. 
+
+Thirdly, whether the industrial capitalist operates on his own or on borrowed capital does not alter the 
+fact that the class of money-capitalists confronts him as a special kind of capitalists, money-capital as an 
+independent kind of capital, and interest as an independent form of surplus-value peculiar to this specific 
+capital. 
+
+Qualitatively speaking, interest is surplus-value yielded by the mere ownership of capital; it is yielded by 
+capital as such, even though its owner remains outside the reproduction process. Hence it is surplus-value 
+realised by capital outside of its process. 
+
+Quantitatively speaking, that portion of profit which forms interest does not seem to be related to 
+industrial or commercial capital as such, but to money-capital, and the rate of this portion of 
+surplus-value, the rate of interest, reinforces this relation. Because, in the first place, the rate of interest is 
+independently determined despite its dependence upon the general rate of profit, and, in the second place, 
+like the market-price of commodities, it appears in contrast to the intangible rate of profit as a fixed, 
+uniform, tangible and always given relation for all its variations. If all capital were in the hands of the 
+industrial capitalists there would be no such thing as interest and rate of interest. The independent form 
+assumed by the quantitative division of gross profit creates the qualitative one. If the industrial capitalist 
+were to compare himself with the money-capitalist, it would be his profit of enterprise alone, the excess 
+of his gross profit over the average interest — the latter appearing to be empirically given by virtue of the 
+rate of interest — that would distinguish him from the other person. If, on the other, hand, he compares 
+himself with the industrial capitalist working with his own, instead of borrowed, capital, the latter differs 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 23 
+
+from him only as a money-capitalist in pocketing the interest instead of paying it to someone else. The 
+portion of gross profit distinguished from interest appears to him in either case as profit of enterprise, and 
+interest itself as a surplus-value yielded by capital as such, which it would yield even if not applied 
+productively. 
+
+This is correct in the practical sense for the individual capitalist. He has the choice of making use of his 
+capital by lending it out as interest-bearing capital, or of expanding its value on his own by using it as 
+productive capital, regardless of whether it exists as money-capital from the very first, or whether it still 
+has to be converted into money-capital. But to apply it to the total capital of society, as some vulgar 
+economists do, and to go so far as to define it as the cause of profit, is, of course, preposterous. The idea 
+of converting all the capital into money-capital, without there being people who buy and put to use 
+means of production, which make up the total .capital outside of a relatively small portion of it existing 
+in money, is, of course, sheer nonsense. It would be still more absurd to presume that capital would yield 
+interest on. the basis of capitalist production without performing any productive function, i.e., without 
+creating surplus-value, of which interest is just a part; that the capitalist mode of production would run its 
+course without capitalist production. If an untowardly large section of capitalists were to convert their 
+capital into money-capital, the result would be a frightful depreciation of money-capital and a frightful 
+fall in the rate of interest; many would at once face the impossibility of living on their interest, and would 
+hence be compelled to reconvert into industrial capitalists. But we repeat that it is a fact for the individual 
+capitalist. For this reason, even when operating with his own capital, he necessarily considers the part of 
+his average profit which equals the average interest as fruit of his capital as such, set apart from the 
+process of production; and as distinct from this portion singled out as interest, he considers the surplus of 
+the gross profit as mere profit of enterprise. 
+
+Fourthly, [A blank in the manuscript]. 
+
+We have seen, therefore, that the portion of profit which the functioning capitalist has to pay to the owner 
+of borrowed capital is transformed into an independent form for a portion of the profit, which all capital 
+as such, whether borrowed or not, yields under the name of interest. How large this portion is depends on 
+the average rate of interest. Its origin is only still revealed in the fact that the functioning capitalist, when 
+owner of his capital, does not compete — at least not actively — in determining the interest rate. The 
+purely quantitative division of the profit between two persons who have different legal titles to it has 
+turned into a qualitative division, which seems to spring from the very nature of capital and profit. 
+Because, as we have seen, as soon as a portion of profit universally assumes the form of interest, the 
+difference between average profit and interest, or the portion of profit over and above the interest, 
+assumes a form opposite to interest — the form of profit of enterprise. These two forms, interest and 
+profit of enterprise, exist only as opposites. Hence, they are not related to surplus-value, of which they 
+are but parts placed under different categories, heads or names, but rather to one another. It is because 
+one portion of profit turns into interest, that the other appears as profit of enterprise. 
+
+By profit we here always mean average profit, since variations do not concern us in this analysis, be they 
+of individual profits or of profits in different spheres — hence variations caused by the competitive 
+struggle and other circumstances affecting the distribution of the average profit, or surplus-value. This 
+applies generally to this entire inquiry. 
+
+Interest is then net profit, as Ramsay calls it, which the ownership of capital yields as such, either simply 
+to the lender, who remains outside the reproduction process, or to the owner who employs his capital 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 23 
+
+productively. But in the latter's case, too, capital yields this net profit to him not in his capacity of 
+productive capitalist, but of money-capitalist, of lender of his own capital as interest-bearing capital to 
+himself as to a functioning capitalist. Just as the conversion of money, and of value in general, into 
+capital is the constant result of capitalist production, so is its existence as capital its constant 
+precondition. By its ability to be transformed into means of production it continually commands unpaid 
+labour and thereby transforms the processes of production and circulation of commodities into the 
+production of surplus-value for its owner. Interest is, therefore, the expression of the fact that value in 
+general-materialised labour in its general social form- value which assumes the form of means of 
+production in the actual process of production, confronts living labour-power as an independent power, 
+and is a means of appropriating unpaid labour; and that it is such a power because it confronts the 
+labourer as the property of another. But on the other hand, this antithesis to wage-labour is obliterated in 
+the form of interest, because interest-bearing capital as such has not wage-labour, but productive capital 
+for its opposite. The lending capitalist as such faces the capitalist performing his actual function in the 
+process of reproduction, not the wage-worker, who, precisely under capitalist production, is expropriated 
+of the means of production. Interest-bearing capital is capital as property as distinct from capital as a 
+function. But so long as capital does not perform its function, it does not exploit labourers and does not 
+come into opposition to labour. 
+
+On the other hand, profit of enterprise is not related as an opposite to wage-labour, but only to interest. 
+
+Firstly, assuming the average profit to be given, the rate of the profit of enterprise is not determined by 
+wages, but by the rate of interest. It is high or low in inverse proportion to it £JJ 
+
+Secondly, the functioning capitalist derives his claim to profits of enterprise, hence the profit of 
+enterprise itself, not from his ownership of capital, but from the function of capital, as distinct from the 
+definite form in which it is only inert property. This stands out as an immediately apparent contrast 
+whenever he operates with borrowed capital, and interest and profit of enterprise therefore go to different 
+persons. The profit of enterprise springs from the function of capital in the reproduction process, hence as 
+a result of the operations, the acts by which the functioning capitalist promotes this function of industrial 
+and commercial capital. But to represent functioning capital is not a sinecure, like representing 
+interest-bearing capital. On the basis of capitalist production, the capitalist directs the process of 
+production and circulation. Exploiting productive labour entails exertion, whether he exploits it himself 
+or has it exploited by someone else on his behalf. Therefore, his profit of enterprise appears to him as 
+distinct from interest, as independent of the ownership of capital, but rather as the result of his function 
+as a non-proprietor — a labourer. 
+
+He necessarily conceives the idea for this reason that his profit of enterprise, far from being counterposed 
+to wage-labour and far from being the unpaid labour of others, is itself rather a wage or wages of 
+superintendence of labour, higher than a common labourer's, 1) because the work is far more 
+complicated, and 2) because he pays them to himself. The fact that his function as a capitalist consists in 
+creating surplus-value, i.e., unpaid labour, and creating it under the most economical conditions, is 
+entirely lost sight of in the contrast that interest falls to the share of the capitalist even when he does not 
+perform the function of a capitalist and is merely the owner of capital; and that, on the other hand, profit 
+of enterprise does fall to the share of the functioning capitalist even when he is not the owner of the 
+capital on which he operates. He forgets, due to the antithetical form of the two parts into which profit, 
+hence surplus-value, is divided, that both are merely parts of the surplus-value, and that this division 
+alters nothing in the nature, origin, and way of existence of surplus-value. 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 23 
+
+In the process of reproduction the functioning capitalist represents capital as the property of another 
+vis-a-vis the wage-labourers, and the money-capitalist, represented by the functioning capitalist, takes a 
+hand in exploiting labour. The fact that the investing capitalist can perform his function of making the 
+labourers work for him, or of employing means of production as capital, only as the personification of 
+the means of production vis-a-vis the labourers, is forgotten in the contradiction between the function of 
+capital in the reproduction process and the mere ownership of capital outside of the reproduction process. 
+
+In fact, the form of interest and profit of enterprise assumed by the two parts of profit, i.e., of 
+surplus-value, expresses no relation to labour, because this relation exists only between labour and profit, 
+or rather the surplus-value as a sum, a whole, the unity of these two parts. The proportion in which the 
+profit is divided, and the different legal titles by which this division is sanctioned, are based on the 
+assumption that profit is already in existence. If, therefore, the capitalist is the owner of the capital on 
+which he operates, he pockets the whole profit, or surplus- value. It is absolutely immaterial to the 
+labourer whether the capitalist does this, or whether he has to pay a part of it to a third person as its legal 
+proprietor. The reasons for dividing the profit among two kinds of capitalists thus turn imperceptibly into 
+the reasons for the existence of the profit, the surplus-value, that is to be divided, and which capital as 
+such derives from the reproduction process regardless of any subsequent division. Since interest is 
+opposed to profit of enterprise, and profit of enterprise to interest, and since they are both counterposed 
+to one another, but not to labour, it follows that profit of enterprise plus interest, i.e., profit, and further 
+surplus-value, are derived — from what? From the antithetical form of its two parts ! But profit is 
+produced before its division is undertaken, and before there can be any thought of it. 
+
+Interest-bearing capital remains as such only so long as the loaned money is actually converted into 
+capital and a surplus is produced with it, of which interest is a part. But this does not rule out that 
+drawing interest, regardless of the process of production, is its organic property. So does labour-power 
+preserve its property of producing value only so long as it is employed and materialised in the 
+labour-process; yet this does not argue against the fact that it is potentially, as a power, an activity which 
+creates value, and that as such it does not spring from the process of production, but rather antecedes it. It 
+is bought as such a capacity for creating value. One might also buy it without setting it to work 
+productively; for purely personal ends, for instance, for personal services, etc. The same applies to 
+capital. It is the borrower's affair whether he employs it as capital, hence actually sets in motion its 
+inherent property of producing surplus-value. What he pays for, is in either case the potential 
+surplus-value inherently contained in capital as a commodity. 
+
+Let us now consider profit of enterprise in greater detail. 
+
+Since the specific social attribute of capital under capitalist production — that of being property 
+commanding the labour-power of another-becomes fixed, so that interest appears as a part of 
+surplus-value produced by capital in this interrelation, the other part of surplus-value — profit of 
+enterprise — must necessarily appear as coming not from capital as such, but from the process of 
+production, separated from its specific social attribute, whose distinct mode of existence is already 
+expressed by the term interest on capital. But the process of production, separated from capital, is simply 
+a labour-process. Therefore, the industrial capitalist, as distinct from the owner of capital, does not 
+appear as operating capital, but rather as a functionary irrespective of capital, or, as a simple agent of the 
+labour-process in general, as a labourer, and indeed as a wage-labourer. 
+
+Interest as such expresses precisely the existence of the conditions of labour as capital, in their social 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 23 
+
+antithesis to labour, and in their transformation into personal power vis-a-vis and over labour. It 
+represents the ownership of capital as a means of appropriating the products of the labour of others. But 
+it represents this characteristic of capital as something which belongs to it outside the production process 
+and by no means is the result of the specifically capitalist attribute of this production process itself. 
+Interest represents this characteristic not as directly counterposed to labour, but rather as unrelated to 
+labour, and simply as a relationship of one capitalist to another. Hence, as an attribute outside of and 
+irrelevant to the relation of capital to labour. In interest, therefore, in that specific form of profit in which 
+the antithetical character of capital assumes an independent form, this is done in such a way that the 
+antithesis is completely obliterated and abstracted. Interest is a relationship between two capitalists, not 
+between capitalist and labourer. 
+
+On the other hand, this form of interest lends the other portion of profit the qualitative form of profit of 
+enterprise, and further of wages of superintendence. The specific functions which the capitalist as such 
+has to perform, and which fall to him as distinct from and opposed to the labourer, are presented as mere 
+functions of labour. He creates surplus-value not because he works as a capitalist, but because he also 
+works, regardless of his capacity of capitalist. This portion of surplus-value is thus no longer 
+surplus-value, but its opposite, an equivalent for labour performed. Due to the alienated character of 
+capital, its antithesis to labour, being relegated to a place outside the actual process of exploitation, 
+namely to the interest-bearing capital, this process of exploitation itself appears as a simple 
+labour-process in which the functioning capitalist merely performs a different kind of labour than the 
+labourer. So that the labour of exploiting and the exploited labour both appear identical as labour. The 
+labour of exploiting is just as much labour as exploited labour. The social form of capital falls to interest, 
+but expressed in a neutral and indifferent form. The economic function of capital falls to profit of 
+enterprise, but abstracted from the specific capitalist character of this function. 
+
+The same thing passes through the mind of the capitalist in this case as in the case of the reasons 
+indicated in Part II of this book for compensation in the equalisation to average profit. These reasons for 
+compensation which enter the distribution of surplus-value as determinants are distorted in a capitalist's 
+mind to appear as bases of origin and the (subjective) justifications of profit itself. 
+
+The conception of profit of enterprise as the wages of supervising labour, arising from the antithesis of 
+profit of enterprise to interest, is further strengthened by the fact that a portion of profit may, indeed, be 
+separated, and is separated in reality, as wages, or rather the reverse, that a portion of wages appears 
+under capitalist production as integral part of profit. This portion, as Adam Smith correctly deduced, 
+presents itself in pure form, independently and wholly separated from profit (as the sum of interest and 
+profit of enterprise), on the one hand, and on the other, from that portion of profit which remains, after 
+interest is deducted, as profit of enterprise in the salary of management of those branches of business 
+whose size, etc., permits of a sufficient division of labour to justify a special salary for a manager. 
+
+The labour of supervision and management is naturally required wherever the direct process of 
+production assumes the form of a combined social process, and not of the isolated labour of independent 
+producers. [21 However, it has a double nature. 
+
+On the one hand, all labour in which many individuals co-operate necessarily requires a commanding 
+will to co-ordinate and unify the process, and functions which apply not to partial operations but to the 
+total activity of the workshop, much as that of an orchestra conductor. This is a productive job, which 
+must be performed in every combined mode of production. 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 23 
+
+On the other hand — quite apart from any commercial department — this supervision work necessarily 
+arises in all modes of production based on the antithesis between the labourer, as the direct producer, and 
+the owner of the means of production. The greater this antagonism, the greater the role played by 
+supervision. Hence it reaches its peak in the slave system.JT[ But it is indispensable also in the capitalist 
+mode of production, since the production process in it is simultaneously a process by which the capitalist 
+consumes labour-power. Just as in despotic states, supervision and all-round interference by the 
+government involves both the performance of common activities arising from the nature of all 
+communities, and the specific functions arising from the antithesis between the government and the mass 
+of the people. 
+
+In the works of ancient writers, who had the slave system before them, both sides of the work of 
+supervision are as inseparably combined in theory as they were in practice. Likewise in the works of 
+modern economists, who regard the capitalist mode of production as absolute. On the other hand, as I 
+shall presently illustrate with an example, the apologists of the modern slave system utilise the work of 
+supervision quite as much as a justification of slavery, as the other economists do to justify the wage 
+system. 
+
+The villicus in Cato's time: "At the head of the estate with slave economy (familia rustica) stands the 
+manager {villicus, derived from villa), who receives and expends, buys and sells, takes instructions from 
+the master, in whose absence he gives orders and metes out punishment... The manager naturally had 
+more freedom of action than the other slaves; the Magonian books advise that he be permitted to marry, 
+raise children, and have his own funds, and Cato recommends that he be married to the female manager; 
+he alone probably had the prospect of winning his freedom from the master in the event of good 
+behaviour. As for the rest, all formed a common household... Every slave, including the manager himself, 
+was supplied his necessities at his master's expense at definite intervals and fixed rates, and had to get 
+along on them... The quantity varied in accordance with labour, which is why the manager, for example, 
+whose work was lighter than the other slaves', received a smaller ration than they." (Mommsen, 
+Romische Geschichte, 2nd ed., 1856, 1, pp. 809-10.) 
+
+Aristotle: '"O yap 8eo7iOTr|^ ox>% ev KiaaOat xoxil, 8oi)A,oi)£, aXXev too %pr|0avD omXoxiI," ("For the 
+master" — the capitalist — "proves himself such not by obtaining slaves" — ownership of capital which 
+gives him power to buy labour-power — " but in employing slaves" — using labourers, nowadays 
+wage-labourers, in the production process.) "Eoit 8e awri r| 87itOTr||j,r| coSev jieycx 8%odocx coSe 
+O8(j,vov." ("But there is nothing great or sublime about this science.") "ex yap tov Sco^ov emoxaoOat 
+8et 7iot£tv 8%etvov 8et iama emoiaoO at emxaTTetv." "But whatever the slave must be able to 
+perform, the master must be able to order.") "Ato ooot^ edemata \ir\ arnoi^ %a%07ia6etv 87itoi07io^ 
+^a(i(3avet zax>- tt|v tt|v Tt(j,r|v, awot 8e 7to?aT£'DOVTat r| (|)t?ioao(|)oatv." ("Whenever the masters are 
+not compelled to plague themselves with supervision, the manager assumes this honour, while the 
+masters attend to affairs of state or study philosophy.") (Aristotle, De republica, Bekker edition, Book I, 
+7.) 
+
+Aristotle says in just so many words that supremacy in the political and economic fields imposes the 
+functions of government upon the ruling powers, and hence that they must, in the economic field, know 
+the art of consuming labour-power. And he adds that this supervisory work is not a matter of great 
+moment and that for this reason the master leaves the "honour" of this drudgery to an overseer as soon as 
+he can afford it. 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 23 
+
+The work of management and supervision — so far as it is not a special function determined by the nature 
+of all combined social labour, but rather by the antithesis between the owner of means of production and 
+the owner of mere labour-power, regardless of whether this labour-power is purchased by buying the 
+labourer himself, as it is under the slave system, or whether the labourer himself sells his labour-power, 
+so that the production process also appears as a process by which capital consumes his labour — this 
+function arising out of the servitude of the direct producers has all too often been quoted to justify this 
+relationship. And exploitation, the appropriation of the unpaid labour of others, has quite as often been 
+represented as the reward justly due to the owner of capital for his work; but never better than by a 
+champion of slavery in the United States, a lawyer named O'Connor, at a meeting held in New York on 
+December 19, 1859, under the slogan of "Justice for the South." "Now, gentlemen," he said amid 
+thunderous applause, "to that condition of bondage the Negro is assigned by Nature... He has strength, 
+and has the power to labour; but the Nature which created the power denied to him either the intellect to 
+govern, or willingness to work. "(Applause.) "Both were denied to him. And that Nature which deprived 
+him of the will to labour, gave him a master to coerce that will, and to make him a useful... servant in the 
+clime in which he was capable of living useful for himself and for the master who governs him... I 
+maintain that it is not injustice to leave the Negro in the condition in which Nature placed him, to give 
+him a master to govern him... nor is it depriving him of any of his rights to compel him to labour in 
+return, and afford to that master just compensation for the labour and talent employed in governing him 
+and rendering him useful to himself and to the society. " [New York Daily Tribune, November 20, 1859, 
+pp. 7-8. -Ed] 
+
+Now, the wage-labourer, like the slave, must have a master who puts him to work and rules over him. 
+And assuming the existence of this relationship of lordship and servitude, it is quite proper to compel the 
+wage-labourer to produce his own wages and also the wages of supervision, as compensation for the 
+labour of ruling and supervising him, or "just compensation for the labour and talent employed in 
+governing him and rendering him useful to himself and to the society." 
+
+The labour of supervision and management, arising as it does out of an antithesis, out of the supremacy 
+of capital over labour, and being therefore common to all modes of production based on class 
+contradictions like the capitalist mode, is directly and inseparably connected, also under the capitalist 
+system, with productive functions which all combined social labour assigns to individuals as their special 
+tasks. The wages of an epitropos, or regisseur, as he was called in feudal France, are entirely divorced 
+from profit and assume the form of wages for skilled labour whenever the business is operated on a 
+sufficiently large scale to warrant paying for such a manager, although, for all that, our industrial 
+capitalists are far from "attending to affairs of state or studying philosophy." 
+
+It has already been remarked by Mr. Ure [4] that it is not the industrial capitalists, but the industrial 
+managers who are "the soul of our industrial system." Whatever concerns the commercial part of an 
+establishment we have already said all that is necessary in the preceding part. 
+
+The capitalist mode of production has brought matters to a point where the work of supervision, entirely 
+divorced from the ownership of capital, is always readily obtainable. It has, therefore, come to be useless 
+for the capitalist to perform it himself. An orchestra conductor need not own the instruments of his 
+orchestra, nor is it within the scope of his duties as conductor to have anything to do with the "wages" of 
+the other musicians. Co-operative factories furnish proof that the capitalist has become no less redundant 
+as a functionary in production as he himself, looking down from his high perch, finds the big landowner 
+redundant. Inasmuch as the capitalist's work does not originate in the purely capitalistic process of 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 23 
+
+production, and hence does not cease on its own when capital ceases; inasmuch as it does not confine 
+itself solely to the function of exploiting the labour of others; inasmuch as it therefore originates from the 
+social form of the labour-process, from combination and co-operation of many in pursuance of a 
+common result, it is just as independent of capital as that form itself as soon as it has burst its capitalistic 
+shell. To say that this labour is necessary as capitalistic labour, or as a function of the capitalist, only 
+means that the vulgus is unable to conceive the forms developed in the lap of capitalist production, 
+separate and free from their antithetical capitalist character. The industrial capitalist is a worker, 
+compared to the money-capitalist, but a worker in the sense of capitalist, i.e., an exploiter of the labour of 
+others. The wage which he claims and pockets for this labour is exactly equal to the appropriated 
+quantity of another's labour and depends directly upon the rate of exploitation of this labour, in so far as 
+he undertakes the effort required for exploitation; it does not, however, depend on the degree of exertion 
+that such exploitation demands, and which he can shift to a manager for moderate pay. After every crisis 
+there are enough ex-manufacturers in the English factory districts who will supervise, for low wages, 
+what wore formerly their own factories in the capacity of managers of the new owners, who are 
+frequently their creditors. £51 
+
+The wages of management both for the commercial and industrial manager are completely isolated from 
+the profits of enterprise in the co-operative factories of labourers, as well as in capitalist stock companies. 
+The separation of wages of management from profits of enterprise, purely accidental at other times, is 
+here constant. In a co-operative factory the antagonistic nature of the labour of supervision disappears, 
+because the manager is paid by the labourers instead of representing capital counterposed to them. Stock 
+companies in general — developed with the credit system — have an increasing tendency to separate this 
+work of management as a function from the ownership of capital, be it self-owned or borrowed. Just as 
+the development of bourgeois society witnessed a separation of the functions of judges and 
+administrators from land-ownership, whose attributes they were in feudal times. But since, on the one 
+hand, the mere owner of capital, the money-capitalist, has to face the functioning capitalist, while 
+money-capital itself assumes a social character with the advance of credit, being concentrated in banks 
+and loaned out by them instead of its original owners, and since, on the other hand, the mere manager 
+who has no title whatever to the capital, whether through borrowing it or otherwise, performs all the real 
+functions pertaining to the functioning capitalist as such, only the functionary remains and the capitalist 
+disappears as superfluous from the production process. 
+
+It is manifest from the public accounts of the co-operative factories in England £6] that -- after deducting 
+the manager's wages, which form a part of the invested variable capital much the same as wages of other 
+labourers — the profit was higher than the average profit, although at times they paid a much higher 
+interest than did private manufacturers. The source of greater profits in all these cases was greater 
+economy in the application of constant capital. What interests us in this, however, is the fact that here the 
+average profit (=interest+profit of enterprise) presents itself actually and palpably as a magnitude wholly 
+independent of the wages of management. Since the profit was higher here than average profit, the profit 
+of enterprise was also higher than usual. 
+
+The same situation is observed in relation to some capitalist stock companies, such as joint-stock banks. 
+The London and Westminster Bank paid an annual dividend of 30% in 1863, while the Union Bank of 
+London and others paid 15%. Aside from the directors' salary the interest paid for deposits is here 
+deducted from gross profit. The high profit is to be explained here by the moderate proportion of paid-in 
+capital to deposits. For instance, in the case of the London and Westminster Bank, in 1863: paid-in 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 23 
+
+capital, £1,000,000; deposits, £14,540,275. As for the Union Bank of London, in 1863: paid-in capital, 
+£600,000; deposits, £12,384,173. 
+
+Profit of enterprise and wages of supervision, or management, were confused originally duo to the 
+antagonistic form assumed in respect to interest by the surplus of profit. This was further promoted by 
+the apologetic aim of representing profit not as a surplus-value derived from unpaid labour, but as the 
+capitalist's wages for work performed by him. This was met on the part of socialists by a demand to 
+reduce profit actually to what it pretended to be theoretically, namely, mere wages of supervision. And 
+this demand was all the more obnoxious to theoretical embellishment, the more these wages of 
+supervision, like any other wage, found their definite level and definite market-price, on the one hand, 
+with the development of a numerous class of industrial and commercial managers,]T[ and the more they 
+fell, on the other, like all wages for skilled labour, with the general development which reduces the cost 
+of production of specially trained labour-power.£82 With the development of co-operation on the part of 
+the labourers, and of stock enterprises on the part of the bourgeoisie, even the last pretext for the 
+confusion of profit of enterprise and wages of management was removed, and profit appeared also in 
+practice as it undeniably appeared in theory, as mere surplus-value, a value for which no equivalent was 
+paid, as realised unpaid labour. It was then seen that the functioning capitalist really exploits labour, and 
+that the fruit of his exploitation, when working with borrowed capital, was divided into interest and profit 
+of enterprise, a surplus of profit over interest. 
+
+On the basis of capitalist production a new swindle develops in stock enterprises with respect to wages of 
+management, in that boards of numerous managers or directors are placed above the actual director, for 
+whom supervision and management serve only as a pretext to plunder the stockholders and amass wealth. 
+Very curious details concerning this are to be found in The City or the Physiology of London Business; 
+with Sketches on Change, and the Coffee Houses, London, 1845. "What bankers and merchants gain by 
+the direction of eight or nine different companies, may be seen from the following illustration: The 
+private balance sheet of Mr. Timothy Abraham Curtis, presented to the Court of Bankruptcy when that 
+gentleman failed, exhibited a sample of the income netted from directorship... between £800 and £900 a 
+year. Mr. Curtis having been associated with the Courts of the Bank of England, and the East India 
+House, it was considered quite a plum for a public company to acquire his services in the boardroom" 
+(pp. 81, 82). The remuneration of the directors of such companies for each weekly meeting is at least one 
+guinea. The proceedings of the Court of Bankruptcy show that these wages of supervision were, as a rule, 
+inversely proportional to the actual supervision performed by these nominal directors. 
+
+FOOTNOTES 
+
+\Y\ "The profits of enterprise depend upon the net profits of capital, not the latter upon the former." 
+(Ramsay, Essay on the Distribution of Wealth, p. 214. For Ramsay net profits always mean interest.) 
+
+[21 "Superintendence is here" (in the case of the farm owner) "completely dispensed with." (J. E. Cairnes, 
+The Slave Power, London, 1862, p. 48.) 
+
+[3J "If the nature of the work requires that the workmen" (viz., the slaves) "should be dispersed over an 
+extended area, the number of overseers, and, therefore, the cost of the labour which requires this 
+supervision, will be proportionately increased." (Cairnes, 1. c, p. 44.) 
+
+
+
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+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 23 
+
+\4] A. Ure, Philosophy of Manufactures, French translation, 1836, 1, p. 67, where this Pindar of the 
+manufacturers at the same time testifies that most manufacturers have not the slightest understanding of 
+the mechanism which they set in motion. 
+
+[51 In a case known to me, following the crisis of 1868, a bankrupt manufacturer became the paid 
+wage-labourer of his own former labourers. The factory was operated after the bankruptcy of its owner 
+by a labourers' co-operative, and its former owner was employed as manager. — F. E. 
+
+[61 The accounts quoted here go no further than 1864, since the above was written in 1865. — F. E. 
+
+[71 "Masters are labourers as well as their journeymen. In this character their interest is precisely the 
+same as that of their men. But they are also either capitalists, or the agents of the capitalists, and in this 
+respect their interest is decidedly opposed to the interests of the workmen." (p. 27). "The wide spread of 
+education among the journeymen mechanics of this country diminishes daily the value of the labour and 
+skill of almost all masters and employers by increasing the number of persons who possess their peculiar 
+knowledge" (p. 30, Hodgskin, Labour Defended Against the Claims of Capital, etc., London, 1825). 
+
+[81 "The general relaxation of conventional barriers, the increased facilities of education tend to bring 
+down the wages of skilled labour instead of raising those of the unskilled." (J. St. Mill, Principles of 
+Political Economy, 2nd ed., London, 1849, 1, p. 479.) 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 24 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 24 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+PartV 
+
+DIVISION OF PROFIT INTO INTEREST AND PROFIT 
+
+OF ENTERPRISE. 
+
+INTEREST-BEARING CAPITAL 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 24 
+
+Externalization of the Relations of Capital 
+in the Form of Interest-Bearing Capital 
+
+
+
+The relations of capital assume their most externalised and most fetish-like form in interest-bearing 
+capital. We have here M — M', money creating more money, self-expanding value, without the process 
+that effectuates these two extremes. In merchant's capital, M — C — M', there is at least the general form 
+of the capitalistic movement, although it confines itself solely to the sphere of circulation, so that profit 
+appears merely as profit derived from alienation; but it is at least seen to be the product of a social 
+relation, not the product of a mere thing. The form of merchant's capital at least presents a process, a 
+unity of opposing phases, a movement that breaks up into two opposite actions — the purchase and the 
+sale of commodities. This is obliterated in M — M', the form of interest-bearing capital. For instance, if 
+£1,000 are loaned out by a capitalist at a rate of interest of 5%, the value of £1,000 as a capital for one 
+year = C+Ci', where C is the capital and i' the rate of interest. Hence, 5% = 5/100 = 1/20, and 
+l,000+l,000x 1/20 = £1,050. The value of £1,000 as capital = £1,050, i.e., capital is not a simple 
+magnitude. It is a relationship of magnitudes, a relationship of the principal sum as a given value to itself 
+as a self-expanding value, as a principal sum which has produced a surplus-value. And capital as such, as 
+we have seen, assumes this form of a directly self-expanding value for all active capitalists, whether they 
+operate on their own or borrowed capital. 
+
+M — M'. We have here the original starting-point of capital, money in the formula M — C — M' reduced 
+to its two extremes M — M', in which M' = M+AM, money creating more money. It is the primary and 
+general formula of capital reduced to a meaningless condensation. It is ready capital, a unity of the 
+process of production and the process of circulation, and hence capital yielding a definite surplus-value 
+in a particular period of time. In the form of interest-bearing capital this appears directly, unassisted by 
+the processes of production and circulation. Capital appears as a mysterious and self-creating source of 
+interest — the source of its own increase. The thing (money, commodity, value) is now capital even as a 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 24 
+
+mere thing, and capital appears as a mere thing. The result of the entire process of reproduction appears 
+as a property inherent in the thing itself. It depends on the owner of the money, i.e., of the commodity in 
+its continually exchangeable form, whether he wants to spend it as money or loan it out as capital. In 
+interest-bearing capital, therefore, this automatic fetish, self-expanding value, money generating money, 
+are brought out in their pure state and in this form it no longer bears the birth-marks of its origin, The 
+social relation is consummated in the relation of a thing, of money, to itself. Instead of the actual 
+transformation of money into capital, we see here only form without content. As in the case of 
+labour-power, the use-value of money here is its capacity of creating value — a value greater than it 
+contains. Money as money is potentially self-expanding value and is loaned out as such — which is the 
+form of sale for this singular commodity. It becomes a property of money to generate value and yield 
+interest, much as it is an attribute of pear-trees to bear pears. And the money-lender sells his money as 
+just such an interest-bearing thing. But that is not all. The actually functioning capital, as we have seen, 
+presents itself in such a light, that it seems to yield interest not as a functioning capital, but as capital in 
+itself, as money-capital. 
+
+This, too, becomes distorted. While interest is only a portion of the profit, i.e., of the surplus-value, 
+which the functioning capitalist squeezes out of the labourer, it appears now, on the contrary, as though 
+interest were the typical product of capital, the primary matter, and profit, in the shape of profit of 
+enterprise, were a mere accessory and by-product of the process of reproduction. Thus we get the fetish 
+form of capital and the conception of fetish capital. In M — M' we have the meaningless form of capital, 
+the perversion and objectification of production relations in their highest degree, the interest-bearing 
+form, the simple form of capital, in which it antecedes its own process of reproduction. It is the capacity 
+of money, or of a commodity, to expand its own value independently of reproduction — which is a 
+mystification of capital in its most flagrant form. 
+
+For vulgar political economy, which seeks to represent capital as an independent source of value, of 
+value creation, this form is naturally a veritable find, a form in which the source of profit is no longer 
+discernible, and in which the result of the capitalist process of production — divorced from the process — 
+acquires an independent existence. 
+
+It is not until capital is money-capital that it becomes a commodity, whose capacity for self-expansion 
+has a definite price quoted every time in every prevailing rate of interest. 
+
+As interest-bearing capital, and particularly in its direct form of interest-bearing money-capital (the other 
+forms of interest-bearing capital, which do not concern us here, are derivatives of this form and 
+presuppose its existence), capital assumes its pure fetish form, M — M' being the subject, the saleable 
+thing. Firstly, through its continual existence as money, a form, in which all its specific attributes are 
+obliterated and its real elements invisible. For money is precisely that form in which the distinctive 
+features of commodities as use- values are obscured, and hence also the distinctive features of the 
+industrial capitals which consist of these commodities and conditions of their production. It is that form, 
+in which value-in this case capital-exists as an independent exchange- value. In the reproduction process 
+of capital, the money-form is but transient-a mere point of transit. But in the money-market capital 
+always exists in this form. Secondly, the surplus-value produced by it, here again in the form of money, 
+appears as an inherent part of it. As the growing process is to trees, so generating money (to%oQ appears 
+innate in capital in its form of money-capital. 
+
+In interest-bearing capital the movement of capital is contracted. The intervening process is omitted. In 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 24 
+
+this way, a capital = 1,000 is fixed as a thing, which in itself = 1,400, and which is transformed after a 
+certain period into 1,100 just as wine stored in a cellar improves its use-value after a certain period. 
+Capital is now a thing, but as a thing it is capital. Money is now pregnant. [Goethe, Faust, Part I, Scene 5. 
+— Ed] As soon as it is loaned out, or invested in the reproduction process (inasmuch as it yields interest 
+to the functioning capitalist as its owner, separate from profit of enterprise), interest on it grows, no 
+matter whether it is awake or asleep, is at home or abroad, by day or by night. Thus interest-bearing 
+money-capital (and all capital is money-capital in terms of its value, or is considered as the expression of 
+money-capital) fulfils the most fervent wish of the hoarder. 
+
+It is this ingrown existence of interest in money-capital as in a thing (this is how the production of 
+surplus-value through capital appears here), which occupies Luther's attention so thoroughly in his naive 
+onslaught against usury. After demonstrating that interest may be demanded if the failure to repay a loan 
+on a definite date to a lender who himself required it to make some payment, caused a loss to him, or 
+resulted in his missing an opportunity to make a profit on a bargain, for instance, in buying a garden, 
+Luther continues: "Now that I have loaned you them (100 gulden), you cause me a double loss due to my 
+not being able to pay on the one hand nor buy on the other, so that I have to lose on both sides, and this is 
+called duplex interesse, damni emergentis et lucri cessantis... On hearing that John sustained losses on 
+his loan of 100 gulden and demands just damages, they rush in and charge double on every 100 gulden, 
+such double reimbursement, namely, for the loss due to non-payment and to inability to make a profit on 
+a bargain, just as though these 100 gulden had the double loss grown on to them, so that whenever they 
+have 100 gulden, they loan them out and charge for two losses, which they have not at all sustained... 
+Therefore you are a usurer, who takes damages out of his neighbour's money for an imaginary loss that 
+you did not sustain at all, and which you can neither prove nor calculate. This sort of loss is called by the 
+jurists non verum, sed phantasticum interesse. It is a loss which each conjures up for himself... It will not 
+do to say, therefore, that there could have been losses because I could not have been able to pay or buy. 
+Else it would mean ex contingente necessarium, which is making something out of a thing that is not, and 
+a thing that is uncertain into a thing that is absolutely sure. Would not such usury devour the world in a 
+few years?... If an unhappy accident befalls him against his will, and he must recover from it, he may 
+demand damages for it, but it is different in trade and just the reverse. There they scheme to profit at the 
+expense of their needy neighbours, how to amass wealth and get rich, to be lazy and idle and live in 
+luxury on the labour of others, without any care, danger, and loss. To sit by the stove and let my 100 
+gulden gather wealth for me in the country and yet keep them in my pocket, because they are only 
+loaned, without any danger or risk-my friend, who would not like that?" (Martin Luther, An die 
+Pfarherrn wider den Wucher zu predigen, etc., Wittenberg, 1540.) 
+
+The conception of capital as a self-reproducing and self-expanding value, lasting and growing eternally 
+by virtue of its innate properties — hence by virtue of the hidden quality of scholasticists — has led to the 
+fabulous fancies of Dr. Price, which outdo by far the fantasies of the alchemists; fancies, in which Pitt 
+believed in all earnest, and which he used as pillars of his financial administration in his laws concerning 
+the sinking fund. 
+
+"Money bearing compound interest increases at first slowly. But, the rate of increase being continually 
+accelerated, it becomes in some time so rapid, as to mock all the powers of the imagination. One penny, 
+put out at our Saviour's birth to 5 per cent compound interest, would, before this time, have increased to a 
+greater sum, than would be contained in a hundred and fifty millions of earths, all solid gold. But if put 
+out to simple interest, it would, in the same time, have amounted to no more than seven shillings and four 
+pence half-penny. Our government has hitherto chosen to improve money in the last, rather than the first 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 24 
+
+of these ways."|Tl 
+
+His fancy flies still higher in his Observations on Reversionary Payments, etc., London, 1772. There we 
+read: "A shilling put out to 6% compound interest at our Saviours birth" (presumably in the Temple of 
+Jerusalem) "would... have increased to a greater sum than the whole solar system could hold, supposing 
+it a sphere equal in diameter to the diameter of Saturn's orbit." "A state need never therefore be under any 
+difficulties; for with the smallest savings it may in as little time as its interest can require pay off the 
+largest debts" (pp. XIII, XIV). What a pretty theoretical introduction to the national debt of England! 
+
+Price was simply dazzled by the gargantuan dimensions obtained in a geometrical progression. Since he 
+took no note of the conditions of reproduction and labour, and regarded capital as a self-regulating 
+automaton, as a mere number that increases itself just as Malthus [An Essay on the Principle of 
+Population, London, 1798, pp. 25-26. — Ed] did with respect to population in his geometrical 
+progression, he was struck by the thought that he had found the law of its growth in the formula s = 
+c(l+i)n , in which s = the sum of capital+compound interest, c = advanced capital, i = rate of interest 
+(expressed in aliquot parts of 100) and n stands for the number of years in which this process takes place. 
+
+Pitt takes Dr. Price's mystification quite seriously. In 1786 the House of Commons had resolved to raise 
+£1 million for the public weal. According to Price, in whom Pitt believed, there was, of course, no better 
+way than to tax the people, so as to "accumulate" this sum after raising it, and thus to spirit away the 
+national debt through the mystery of compound interest. The above resolution of the House of Commons 
+was soon followed up by Pitt with a law which ordered the accumulation of £250,000, "until, with the 
+expired annuities, the fund should have grown to £4,000,000 annually." (Act 26, George III, Chap. 31.) 
+["An Act for vesting certain sums in Commissioners, at the End of every Quarter of a Year, to be by 
+them applied to the Reduction of the National Debt" (Anno 26 Georgii III, Regis, cap. 31). — Ed.] In his 
+speech of 4792, in which Pitt proposed that the amount devoted to the sinking fund be increased, he 
+mentioned machines, credit, etc., among the causes of England's commercial supremacy, but as "the most 
+wide-spread and enduring cause, that of accumulation." This principle, he said, was completely 
+developed in the work of Smith, that genius... and this accumulation, he continued, was accomplished by 
+laying aside at least a portion of the annual profit for the purpose of increasing the principal, which was. 
+to be employed in the same manner the following year, and which thus yielded a continual profit. With 
+Dr. Price's aid Pitt thus converts Smith's theory of accumulation into enrichment of a nation by means of 
+accumulating debts, and thus arrives at the pleasant progression of an infinity of loans-loans to pay loans. 
+
+It had already been noted by Josiah Child, the father of modern banking, that £100 at 10% would produce 
+in 70 years by compound interest £102,400. (Traite sur le commerce, etc., par J. Child, traduit, etc., 
+Amsterdam et Berlin, 1754, p. 115. Written in 1669.) 
+
+How thoughtlessly Dr. Price's conception is applied by modern economists, is shown in the following 
+passage from the Economist: "Capital, with compound interest on every portion of capital saved, is so 
+all-engrossing that all the wealth in the world from which income is derived, has long ago become the 
+interest of capital... All rent is now the payment of interest on capital previously invested in the land." 
+{Economist, July 49, 1851.) In its capacity of interest-bearing capital, capital claims the ownership of all 
+wealth which can ever be produced, and everything it has received so far is but an instalment for its 
+all-engrossing appetite. By its innate laws, all surplus-labour which the human race can ever perform 
+belongs to it. Moloch. 
+
+In conclusion, the following hodge-podge by the romantic Miiller: "Dr. Price's immense increase of 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 24 
+
+compound interest, or of the self-accelerating forces of man, presupposes an undivided, or uninterrupted, 
+uniform application for several centuries, if they are to produce such enormous effects. As soon as capital 
+is divided, cut up into several independently growing shoots, the total process of accumulating forces 
+begins anew. Nature has distributed over a span of about 20 to 25 years the progression of energy which 
+falls on an average to the share of every labourer (!). After the lapse of this time the labourer leaves his 
+career and must transfer the capital accumulated by the compound interest of labour to a new labourer, 
+mostly distributing it among several labourers or children. These must first learn to activate and apply 
+their share of capital, before they can draw any actual compound interest on it. Furthermore, an 
+enormous quantity of capital gained by civil society even in the most restless communities, is gradually 
+accumulated over many years and not employed for any immediate expansion of labour. Instead, as soon 
+as an appreciable sum is gathered together, it is transferred to another individual, a labourer, bank or 
+state, under the head of a loan. And the receiver then sets the capital into actual motion and draws 
+compound interest on it, so that he can easily pledge to pay simple interest to the lender. Finally, the law 
+of consumption, greed, and waste opposes those huge progressions, in which man's powers and their 
+products would multiply if the law of production, or thrift, were alone effective." (A. Miiller, Elemente 
+der Staatskunst, III, pp. 147-49.) 
+
+It is impossible to concoct a more hair-raising absurdity in so few lines. Leaving aside the droll confusion 
+of labourer and capitalist, value of labour-power and interest on capital, etc., the charging of compound 
+interest is supposed to be explained by the fact that capital is loaned out to bring in compound interest. 
+The method employed by our Miiller is thoroughly characteristic of the romanticism in all walks of life. 
+It is made up of current prejudices, skimmed from the most superficial semblance of things. This 
+incorrect and trite content should then be "exalted" and rendered sublime through a mystifying mode of 
+expression. 
+
+The process of accumulation of capital may be conceived as an accumulation of compound interest in the 
+sense that the portion of profit (surplus-value) which is reconverted into capital, i.e., serves to absorb 
+more surplus-labour, may be called interest. But: 
+
+1) Aside from all incidental interference, a large part of available capital is constantly more or less 
+depreciated in the course of the reproduction process, because the value of commodities is not 
+determined by the labour-time originally expended in their production, but by the labour-time expended 
+in their reproduction, and this decreases continually owing to the development of the social productivity 
+of labour. On a higher level of social productivity, all available capital appears, for this reason, to be the 
+result of a relatively short period of reproduction, instead of a long process of accumulation of capital. \2~\ 
+
+2) As demonstrated in Part III of this book, the rate of profit decreases in proportion to the mounting 
+accumulation of capital and the correspondingly increasing productivity of social labour, which is 
+expressed precisely in the relative and progressive decrease of the variable as compared to the constant 
+portion of capital. To produce the same rate of profit after the constant capital set in motion by one 
+labourer increases ten-fold, the surplus labour-time would have to increase ten-fold, and soon the total 
+labour-time, and finally the entire 24 hours of a day, would not suffice, even if wholly appropriated by 
+capital. The idea that the rate of profit does not shrink is, however, the basis of Price's progression and in 
+general the basis of "all-engrossing capital with compound interest." f31 
+
+The identity of surplus-value and surplus-labour imposes a qualitative limit upon the accumulation of 
+capital. This consists of the total working-day, and the prevailing development of the productive forces 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 24 
+
+and of the population, which limits the number of simultaneously exploitable working-days. But if one 
+conceives of surplus-value in the meaningless form of interest, the limit is merely quantitative and defies 
+all fantasy. 
+
+Now, the concept of capital as a fetish reaches its height in interest-bearing capital, being a conception 
+which attributes to the accumulated product of labour, and at that in the fixed form of money, the 
+inherent secret power, as an automaton, of creating surplus-value in geometrical progression, so that the 
+accumulated product of labour, as the Economist thinks, has long discounted all the wealth of the world 
+for all time as belonging to it and rightfully coming to it. The product of past labour, the past labour 
+itself, is here pregnant in itself with a portion of present or future living surplus-labour. We know, 
+however, that in reality the preservation, and to that extent also the reproduction of the value of products 
+of past labour is only the result of their contact with living labour; and secondly, that the domination of 
+the products of past labour over living surplus-labour lasts only as long as the relations of capital, which 
+rest on those particular social relations in which past labour independently and overwhelmingly 
+dominates over living labour. 
+
+FOOTNOTES 
+
+T 1 1 Richard Price, An Appeal to the Public on the Subject of the National Debt, 2nd ed., London, 1774, p. 
+19. He cracks the naive joke: "It is borrowing money at simple interest, in order to improve it at 
+compound interest." (R. Hamilton, An Inquiry into the Rise and Progress of the National Debt of Great 
+Britain, 2nd ed., Edinburgh, 1814, p. 133.) According to this, borrowing would be the safest means also 
+for private people to gather wealth. But if I borrow £100 at 5% annual interest, I have to pay £5 at the 
+end of the year, and even if the loan lasts for 100 million years, I have meanwhile only £100 to loan 
+every year and £5 to pay every year. I can never manage by this process to loan £105 when borrowing 
+£100. And how am I going to pay 5%? By new loans, or, if it is the state, by new taxes. Now, if the 
+industrial capitalist borrows money, and his profit amounts to, say, 15%, he may pay 5% interest, spend 
+5% for his private expenses (although his appetite grows with his income), and capitalise 5%. In this 
+case, 15% is the precondition for paying continually 5% interest. If this process continues, the rate of 
+profit, for the reasons indicated in former chapters, will fall from 15% to, say, 10%. But Price entirely 
+forgets that the interest of 5% presupposes a rate of profit of 15%, and assumes it to continue with the 
+accumulation of capital. He has nothing whatsoever to do with the actual process of accumulation, but 
+rather only with lending money and getting it back with compound interest. How that is accomplished is 
+immaterial to him, since it is the innate property of interest-bearing capital. 
+
+\2] See Mill and Carey, and Roscher's mistaken commentary on this score. [Marx refers to the following 
+works: J. St. Mill, Principles of Political Economy, Second edition, Vol. I, London, 1849, pp. 91-92; H. 
+Ch. Carey, Principles of Social Science, Vol. Ill, Philadelphia, 1859, pp. 71.73; W. Roscher, Die 
+Grundlagen der Nationalokonomie, 3 Auflage, Stuttgart und Augsburg, 1858, § 45. — Ed.] 
+
+\3] "It is clear, that no labour, no productive power, no ingenuity, and no art, can answer the 
+overwhelming demand of compound interest. But all saving is made from the revenue of the capitalist, so 
+that actually these demands are constantly made and as constantly the productive power of labour refuses 
+to satisfy them. A sort of balance is, therefore, constantly struck. " (Labour Defended Against the Claims 
+of Capital, p. 23. By Hodgskin.) 
+
+
+
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+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 24 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 25 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 25 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+PartV 
+
+DIVISION OF PROFIT INTO INTEREST AND PROFIT 
+
+OF ENTERPRISE. 
+
+INTEREST-BEARING CAPITAL 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 25 
+
+
+
+Credit and Fictitious Capital 
+
+
+
+An exhaustive analysis of the credit system and of the instruments which it creates for its own use 
+(credit-money, etc.) lies beyond our plan. We merely wish to dwell here upon a few particular points, 
+which are required to characterise the capitalist mode of production in general. We shall deal only with 
+commercial and bank credit. The connection between the development of this form of credit and that of 
+public credit will not be considered here. 
+
+I have shown earlier (Buch I, Kap. Ill, 3, b [English edition: Ch. Ill, 3, b. — Ed.]) how the function of 
+money as a means of payment, and therewith a relation of creditor and debtor between the producer and 
+trader of commodities, develop from the simple circulation of commodities. With the development of 
+commerce and of the capitalist mode of production, which produces solely with an eye to circulation, this 
+natural basis of the credit system is extended, generalised, and worked out. Money serves here, by and 
+large, merely as a means of payment, i.e., commodities are not sold for money, but for a written promise 
+to pay for them at a certain date. For brevity's sake, we may put all these promissory notes under the 
+general head of bills of exchange. Such bills of exchange, in their turn, circulate as means of payment 
+until the day on which they fall due; and they form the actual commercial money. Inasmuch as they 
+ultimately neutralise one another through the balancing of claims and debts, they act absolutely as 
+money, although there is no eventual transformation into actual money. Just as these mutual advances of 
+producers and merchants make up the real foundation of credit, so does the instrument of their 
+circulation, the bill of exchange, form the basis of credit-money proper, of bank-notes, etc. These do not 
+rest upon the circulation of money, be it metallic or government-issued paper money, but rather upon the 
+circulation of bills of exchange. 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 25 
+
+W. Leatham (banker of Yorkshire) writes in his Letters on the Currency, 2nd ed., London, 1840: "I find, 
+then, the amount for the whole of the year of 1839... to be £528,493,842" (he assumed that the foreign 
+bills of exchange made up about one-fifth of the total) "and the amount of bills out at one time in the 
+above year, to be £132,123,460" (p. 56). The bills of exchange make up "one component part greater in 
+amount than all the rest put together" (p. 3). "This enormous superstructure of bills of exchange rests (!) 
+upon the base formed by the amount of bank-notes and gold, and when, by events, this base becomes too 
+much narrowed, its solidity and very existence is endangered" (p. 8). "If I estimate the whole currency" 
+(he means of the bank-notes) "and the amount of the liabilities of the Bank and country bankers, payable 
+on demand, I find a sum of 153 million, which, by law, can be converted into gold... and the amount of 
+gold to meet this demand" only 14 million (p.l 1). "The bills of exchange are not... placed under any 
+control, except by preventing the abundance of money, excessive and low rates of interest or discount, 
+which create a part of them, and encourage their great and dangerous expansion. It is impossible to 
+decide what part arises out of real bond fide transactions, such as actual bargain and sale, or what part is 
+fictitious and mere accommodation paper, that is, where one bill of exchange is drawn to take up another 
+running, in order to raise a fictitious capital, by creating so much currency. In times of abundance and 
+cheap money this I know reaches an enormous amount" (pp. 43-44). J.W. Bosanquet, Metallic, Paper 
+and Credit Currency, London, 1842: "An average amount of payments to the extent of upwards of 
+£3,000,000 is settled through the Clearing House (where the London bankers exchange due bills and 
+filed cheques) every day of business in the year, and the daily amount of money required for the purpose 
+is little more than £200,000" (p. 86). (In 1889, the total turnover of the Clearing House amounted to 
+£7,618.75 million, which, in roughly 300 business days, averages £25 1/2 million daily. — F. E.] "Bills of 
+exchange act undoubtedly as currency, independent of money," inasmuch as they transfer property from 
+hand to hand by endorsement (p. 92). It may be assumed that "upon an average there are two 
+endorsements upon every bill in circulation, and... each bill performs two payments before it becomes 
+due. Upon this assumption it would appear, that by endorsement alone property changed hands, by means 
+of bills of exchange, to the value of twice five hundred and twenty-eight million, or £1,056,000,000, 
+being at the rate of more than £3,000,000 per day, in the course of the year 1839. We may safely 
+therefore conclude, that deposits and bills of exchange together, perform the functions of money, by 
+transferring property from h and to hand without the aid of money, to an extent daily of not less than 
+£18,000,000" (p. 93). 
+
+Tooke says the following about credit in general: "Credit, in its most simple expression, is the confidence 
+which, well, or ill-founded, leads a person to entrust another with a certain amount of capital, in money, 
+or in goods computed at a value in money agreed upon, and in each case payable at the expiration of a 
+fixed term. In the case where the capital is lent in money, that is whether in bank-notes, or in a cash 
+credit, or in an order upon a correspondent, an addition for the use of the capital of so much upon every 
+£100 is made to the amount to be repaid. In the case of goods the value of which is agreed in terms of 
+money, constituting a sale, the sum stipulated to be repaid includes a consideration for the use of the 
+capital and for the risk, till the expiration of the period fixed for payment. Written obligations of payment 
+at fixed dates mostly accompany these credits, and the obligations or promissory notes after date being 
+transferable, form the means by which the lenders, if they have occasion for the use of their capital, in the 
+shape whether of money or goods, before the expiration of the term of the bills they hold, are mostly 
+enabled to borrow Or to buy on lower terms, by having their own credit strengthened by the names on the 
+bills in addition to their own." (Inquiry into the Currency Principle, p. 87.) 
+
+Ch. Coquelin, Du Credit et des Banques dans L'Industrie, Revue des Deux Mondes, 1842, Tome 31: "In 
+
+
+
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+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 25 
+
+every country the majority of credit transactions takes place within the circle of industrial relations... The 
+producer of the raw material advances it to the processing manufacturer, and receives from the latter a 
+promise to pay on a certain day. The manufacturer, having completed his share of the work, in his turn 
+advances his product on similar terms to another manufacturer, who has to process it further, and in this 
+way credit stretches on and on, from one to the other, right up to the consumer. The wholesale dealer 
+gives the retailer commodities on credit, while receiving credit from a manufacturer or commission 
+agent. All borrow with one hand and lend with the other, sometimes money, but more frequently 
+products. In this manner an incessant exchange of advances, which combine and intersect in all 
+directions, takes place in industrial relations. The development of credit consists precisely in this 
+multiplication and growth of mutual advances, and therein is the real seat of its power." 
+
+
+
+The other side of the credit system is connected with the development of money-dealing, which, of 
+course, keeps step under capitalist production with the development of dealing in commodity. We have 
+seen in the preceding part (Chap. XIX) how the care of the reserve funds of businessmen, the technical 
+operations of receiving and disbursing money, of international payments, and thus of the bullion trade, 
+are concentrated in the hands of the money-dealers. The other side of the credit system — the 
+management of interest-bearing capital, or money-capital, develops alongside this money-dealing as a 
+special function of the money-dealers. Borrowing and lending money becomes their particular business. 
+They act as middlemen between the actual lender and the borrower of money-capital. Generally 
+speaking, this aspect of the banking business consists of concentrating large amounts of the loanable 
+money-capital in the bankers' hands, so that, in place of the individual money-lender, the bankers 
+confront the industrial capitalists and commercial capitalists as representatives of all moneylenders. They 
+become the general managers of money-capital. On the other hand by borrowing for the entire world of 
+commerce, they concentrate all the borrowers vis-a-vis all the lenders. A bank represents a centralisation 
+of money-capital, of the lenders, on the one hand, and on the other a centralisation of the borrowers. Its 
+profit is generally made by borrowing at a lower rate of interest than it receives in loaning. 
+
+The loanable capital which the banks have at their disposal streams to them in various ways. In the first 
+place, being the cashiers of the industrial capitalists, all the money-capital which every producer and 
+merchant must have as a reserve fund, or receives in payment, is concentrated in their hands. These funds 
+are thus converted into loanable money-capital. In this way, the reserve fund of the commercial world, 
+because it is concentrated in a common treasury, is reduced to its necessary minimum, and a portion of 
+the money-capital which would otherwise have to lie slumbering as a reserve fund, is loaned out and 
+serves as interest-bearing capital. In the second place, the loanable capital of the banks is formed by the 
+deposits of money-capitalists who entrust them with the business of loaning them out. Furthermore, with 
+the development of the banking system, and particularly as soon as banks came to pay interest on 
+deposits, money savings and the temporarily idle money of all classes were deposited with them. Small 
+amounts, each in itself incapable of acting in the capacity of money-capital, merge together into large 
+masses and thus form a money power. This aggregation of small amounts must be distinguished as a 
+specific function of the banking system from its go-between activities between the money-capitalists 
+proper and the borrowers. In the final analysis, the revenues, which are usually but gradually consumed, 
+are also deposited with the banks. 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 25 
+
+The loan is made (we refer here strictly to commercial credit) by discounting bills of exchange — by 
+converting bills of exchange into money before they come due — and by advances of various kinds: 
+direct advances on personal credit, loans against securities, such as interest-bearing paper, government 
+paper, stocks of all sorts, and, notably, overdrafts against bills of lading, dock warrants, and other 
+certified titles of ownership of commodities and overdrawing deposits, etc. 
+
+The credit given by a banker may assume various forms, such as bills of exchange on other banks, 
+cheques on them, credit accounts of the same kind, and finally, if the bank is entitled to issue notes — 
+bank-notes of the bank itself. A bank-note is nothing but a draft upon a banker, payable at any time to the 
+bearer, and given by the banker in place of private drafts. This last form of credit appears particularly 
+important and striking to the layman, first, because this form of credit-money breaks out of the confines 
+of mere commercial circulation into general circulation, and serves there as money; and because in most 
+countries the principal banks issuing notes, being a peculiar mixture of national and private banks, 
+actually have the national credit to back them, and their notes are more or less legal tender; because it is 
+apparent here that the banker deals in credit itself, a bank-note being merely a circulating token of credit. 
+But the banker also has to do with credit in all its other forms, even when he advances the cash money 
+deposited with him. In fact, a bank-note simply represents the coin of wholesale trade, and it is always 
+the deposit which carries the most weight with banks. The best proof of this is furnished by the Scottish 
+banks. 
+
+Special credit institutions, like special forms of banks, need no further consideration for our purpose. 
+
+"The business of bankers... may be divided into two branches... One branch of the banker's business is to 
+collect capital from those who have not immediate employment for it, and to distribute or transfer it to 
+those who have. The other branch is to receive deposits of the incomes of their customers, and to pay out 
+the amount, as it is wanted for expenditure by the latter in the objects of their consumption... The former 
+being a circulation of capital, the latter of currency... " One "relates to the concentration of capital on the 
+one hand and the distribution of it on the other," the other "is employed in administering the circulation 
+for local purposes of the district." Tooke, Inquiry into the Currency Principle, pp. 36, 37. We shall revert 
+to this passage later, in Chapter XXVIII. 
+
+Reports of Committees, Vol. VIII. Commercial Distress, Vol. 11, Part I, 1847-48, Minutes of Evidence. 
+(Further quoted as Commercial Distress, 1847-48.) In the forties, when discounting bills of exchange in 
+London, 21-day drafts of one bank on another were often accepted in lieu of banknotes. (Testimony of J. 
+Pease, country banker, Nos. 4638 and 4645.) According to the same report, bankers were in the habit of 
+giving such bills of exchange regularly in payment to their customers whenever money was tight. If the 
+receiver wanted bank-notes, he had to rediscount this bill. For the banks this amounted to a privilege of 
+coining money. Messrs. Jones, Lloyd and Co. made payments in this way "from time immemorial," as 
+soon as money was scarce and the rate of interest rose above 5%. The customer was glad to get such 
+banker's bills because bills from Jones, Loyd and Co. were easier discounted than his own; besides, they 
+often passed through twenty to thirty hands. (Ibid., Nos. 901 to 904, 905, 992.) 
+
+All these forms serve to make the payments claim transferable. — "There is scarcely any shape into 
+which credit can be cast, in which it will not at times be called to perform the functions of money; and 
+whether that shape be a bank-note, or a bill of exchange, or a banker's cheque, the process is in every 
+essential particular the same, and the result is the same." Fullarton, On the Regulation of Currencies, 2nd 
+ed., London, 1845, p. 38. — "Bank-notes are the small change of credit" (p. 51). 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 25 
+
+The following from J. W. Gilbart's The History and Principle of Banking, London, 1834: "The trading 
+capital of a bank may be divided into two parts: the invested capital, and the borrowed banking capital (p. 
+1 17). "There are three ways of raising a banking or borrowed capital. First, by receiving; secondly, by the 
+issuing of notes; thirdly, by the drawing of bills. If a person will lend me £100 for nothing, and I lend that 
+£100 to another person at four per cent interest, then, in the course of a year, I shall gain £4 by the 
+transaction. Again, if a person will take my 'promise to pay'" ("I promise to pay" is the usual formula for 
+English bank-notes) "and bring it back to me at the end of the year, and pay me four per cent for it, just 
+the same as though I had lent him 100 sovereigns, then I shall gain £4 by that transaction; and again, if a 
+person in a country town brings me £100 on condition that, twenty-one days afterwards, I shall pay the 
+same amount to a person in London, then whatever interest I can make of the money during the 
+twenty-one days, will be my profit. This is a fair representation of the operations of banking, and of the 
+way in which a banking capital is created by means of deposits, notes, and bills" (p. 1 17). "The profits of 
+a banker are generally in proportion to the amount of his banking or borrowed capital... To ascertain the 
+real profit of a bank, the interest upon the invested capital should be deducted from the gross profit, and 
+what remains is the banking profit" (p. 118). "The advances of bankers to their customers are made with 
+other people's money" (p. 146). "Precisely those bankers who do not issue notes, create a banking capital 
+by the discounting of bills. They render their discounts subservient to the increase of their deposits. The 
+London bankers will not discount except for those houses who have deposit accounts with them" (p. 
+119). "A party who has had bills discounted, and has paid interest on the whole amount, must leave some 
+portion of that amount in the hands of the banker without interest. By this means the banker obtains more 
+than the current rate of interest on the money actually advanced, and raises a banking capital to the 
+amount of the balance left in his hands" (pp. 119- 20). Economising on reserve funds, deposits, cheques: 
+"Banks of deposit serve to economise the use of the circulating medium. This is done upon the principle 
+of transfer of titles... Thus it is that banks of deposit... are enabled to settle a large amount of transactions 
+with a small amount of money. The money thus liberated, is employed by the banker in making 
+advances, by discount or otherwise, to his customers. Hence the principle of transfer gives additional 
+efficiency to the deposit system... " (p. 123). "It matters not whether the two parties, who have dealings 
+with each other, keep their accounts with the same banker or with different bankers; for, as the bankers 
+exchange their cheques with each other at the clearing house... The deposit system might thus, by means 
+of transfers, be carried to such an extent as wholly to supersede the use of a metallic currency. Were 
+every man to keep a deposit account at a bank, and make all his payments by cheques, money might be 
+superseded, and cheques become the sole circulating medium. In this case, however, it must be supposed 
+that the banker has the money in his hands, or the cheques would have no value" (p. 124). Centralisation 
+of local transactions in the hands of the banks is effected 1) through branch banks. Country banks have 
+branch establishments in the smaller towns of their district, and London banks in different districts of the 
+city. 2) Through agencies. "Each country banker employs a London agent to pay his notes or bills... and 
+to receive sums that may be lodged by parties residing in London for the use of parties residing in the 
+country" (p. 127). Each banker accepts the notes of others, but does not reissue them. In all larger cities 
+they come together once or twice a week and exchange their notes. The balance is paid by a draft on 
+London (p. 134). "It is the object of banking to give facilities to trade, and whatever gives facilities to 
+trade gives facilities to speculation. Trade and speculation are in some cases so nearly allied, that it is 
+impossible to say at what precise point trade ends and speculation begins... Wherever there are banks, 
+capital is more readily obtained, and at a cheaper rate. The cheapness of capital gives facilities to 
+speculation, just in the same way as the cheapness of beef and of beer gives facilities to gluttony and 
+drunkenness" (pp. 137, 438). "As banks of circulation always issue their own notes, it would seem that 
+their discounting business was carried on exclusively with this last description of capital, but it is not so. 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 25 
+
+It is very possible for a banker to issue his own notes for all the bills he discounts, and yet nine-tenths of 
+the bills in his possession shall represent real capital. For, although in the first instance, the banker's 
+notes are given for the bill, yet these notes may not stay in circulation until the bill becomes due — the 
+bill may have three months to run, the notes may return in three days" (p. 172). "The overdrawing of a 
+cash credit account is a regular matter of business; it is, in fact, the purpose for which the cash credit has 
+been granted... Cash credits are granted not only upon personal security, but also upon the security of the 
+Public Funds" (pp. 174, 175). "Capital advanced, by way of loan, on the securities of merchandise, would 
+produce the same effects as if advanced in the discounting of bills. If a party borrows 1400 on the 
+security of his merchandise, it is the same as though he had sold his merchandise for a 8100 bill, and got 
+it discounted with the banker. By obtaining this advance he is enabled to hold over this merchandise for a 
+better market, and avoids a sacrifice which, otherwise, be might be induced to make, in order to raise the 
+money for urgent purposes" (pp. 180-81). 
+
+The Currency Theory Reviewed, etc., pp. 62-63: "It is unquestionably true that the £1,000 which you 
+deposit at A today may be reissued tomorrow, and form a deposit at B. The day after that, reissued from 
+B, it may form a deposit at C... and so on to infinitude; and that the same £1,000 in money may thus, by a 
+succession of transfers, multiply itself into a sum of deposits absolutely indefinite. It is possible, 
+therefore, that nine-tenths of all the deposits in the United Kingdom may have no existence beyond their 
+record in the books of the bankers who are respectively accountable for them... Thus in Scotland, for 
+instance, currency (mostly paper money at that) has never exceeded 13 million, the deposits in the banks 
+are estimated at £27 million... Unless a run on the banks be made, the same £1,000 would, if sent back 
+upon its travels, cancel with the same facility a sum equally indefinite. As the same £1,000 with which 
+you cancel your debt to a tradesman today, may cancel his debt to the merchant tomorrow, the merchant's 
+debt to the bank the day following, and so on without end; so the same £1,000 may pass from hand to 
+hand, and bank to bank, and cancel any conceivable sum of deposits." 
+
+
+
+[We have seen that Gilbart knew even in 1834 that "whatever gives facilities to trade gives facilities to 
+speculation. Trade and speculation are in some cases so nearly allied, that it is impossible to say at what 
+precise point trade ends and speculation begins." The easier it is to obtain advances on unsold 
+commodities, the more such advances are taken, and the greater the temptation to manufacture 
+commodities, or dump already manufactured commodities in distant markets, just to obtain advances of 
+money on them. To what extent the entire business world of a country may be seized by such swindling, 
+and what it finally comes to, is amply illustrated by the history of English business during 1845-47. It 
+shows us what credit can accomplish. Before passing on to the following examples, a few preliminary 
+remarks. 
+
+At the close of 1842 the pressure which English industry suffered almost uninterruptedly since 1837, 
+began to lift. During the following two years foreign demand for English manufactured goods increased 
+still more; 1845 and 1846 marked a period of greatest prosperity. In 1843 the Opium War had opened 
+China to English commerce. The new market gave a new impetus to the further expansion of an 
+expanding industry, particularly the cotton industry. "How can we ever produce too much? We have to 
+clothe 300 million people," a Manchester manufacturer said to this writer at the time. But all the newly 
+erected factory buildings, steam-engines, and spinning and weaving machines did not suffice to absorb 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 25 
+
+the surplus-value pouring in from Lancashire. With the same zeal as was shown in expanding production, 
+people engaged in building railways. The thirst for speculation of manufacturers and merchants at first 
+found gratification in this field, and as early as in the summer of 1844. Stock was fully underwritten, i.e., 
+so far as there was money to cover the initial payments. As for the rest, time would show! But when 
+further payments were due — Question 1059, C. D. 1848/57, indicates that the capital invested in 
+railways in 1 846-47 amounted to £75 million — recourse had to be taken to credit, and in most cases the 
+basic enterprises of the firm had also to bleed. 
+
+And in most cases these basic enterprises were already over-burdened. The enticingly high profits had 
+led to far more extensive operations than justified by the available liquid resources. Yet there was 
+credit-easy to obtain and cheap. The bank discount rate stood low: I3/4 to 23/4% in 1844, less than 3% 
+until October 1845, rising to 5% for a while (February 1846), then dropping again to 3 1/4% in December 
+1846. The Bank of England had an unheard-of supply of gold in its vaults. All inland quotations were 
+higher than ever before. Why then allow this splendid opportunity to escape? Why not go in for all one 
+was worth? Why not send all one could manufacture to foreign markets which pined for English goods? 
+And why should not the manufacturer himself pocket the double gain arising from selling yarn and 
+fabrics in the Far East, and the return cargo in England? 
+
+Thus arose the system of mass consignments to India and China against advance payments, and this soon 
+developed into a system of consignments purely for the sake of getting advances, as described in greater 
+detail in the following notes, which led inevitably to over-flooding the markets and a crash. 
+
+The crash was precipitated by the crop failure of 1846. England, and particularly Ireland, required 
+enormous imports of foodstuffs, notably corn and potatoes. But the countries which supplied them could 
+be paid with the products of English industry only to a very limited extent. Precious metals had to be 
+given out. Gold worth at least nine million was sent abroad. Of this amount no less than seven and a half 
+million came from the treasury of the Bank of England, whose freedom of action on the money-market 
+was thereby considerably impaired. Other banks, whose reserves were deposited with the Bank of 
+England and were practically identical with those of that Bank, were thus also compelled to curtail 
+accommodation of money. The rapid and easy flow of payments was obstructed, first here and there, then 
+generally. The banking discount rate, still 3 to 3 1/2% in January 1847, rose to 7% in April, when the first 
+panic broke out. The situation eased somewhat in the summer (6' 1/2%, 6%), but when the new crop failed 
+as well panic broke out afresh and even more violently. The official minimum bank discount rose in 
+October to 7 and in November to 10%; i.e., the overwhelming mass of bills of exchange was 
+discountable only at outrageous rates of interest, or no longer discountable at all. The general cessation of 
+payments caused the failure of several leading and very many medium- sized and small firms. The Bank 
+itself was in danger due to the limitations imposed by the artful Bank Act of 4844. The government 
+yielded to the general clamour and suspended the Bank Act on October 25, thereby eliminating the 
+absurd legal fetters imposed on the Bank. Now it could throw its supply of bank-notes into circulation 
+without hindrance. The credit of these bank-notes being in practice guaranteed by the credit of the nation, 
+and thus unimpaired, the money stringency was thus instantly and decisively relieved. Naturally, quite a 
+number of hopelessly enmeshed large and small firms failed nevertheless, but the peak of the crisis was 
+overcome, the banking discount dropped to 5% in December, and in the course of 1848 a new wave of 
+business activity began which took the edge off the revolutionary movements on the continent in 1849, 
+and which inaugurated in the fifties an unprecedented industrial prosperity, but then ended again-in the 
+crash of 1857. - F. E.] 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 25 
+
+I. A document issued by the House of Lords in 1848 deals with the colossal depreciation of government 
+paper and bonds during the 1847 crisis. According to it the depreciation of October 23, 1847, compared 
+with the level in February of the same year, amounted to: 
+
+On English government bonds £93,824,217 
+On dock and canal stock £1,358,288 
+
+On railway stock £19,570,820 
+
+Total £114,762,325 
+
+II. With reference to the swindle in East Indian trade, in which drafts were no longer drawn because 
+commodities were being bought, but rather commodities were bought to be able to make out discountable 
+drafts convertible into money, the Manchester Guardian of November 24, 1847, remarks: 
+
+Mr. A in London instructs a Mr. B to buy from the manufacturer C in Manchester commodities for 
+shipment to a Mr. D in East India. B pays C in six months' drafts to be made out by C on B. B secures 
+himself by six months' drafts on A. As soon as the goods are shipped A makes out six months' drafts on 
+D against the mailed bill of lading. 'The shipper and the co-signee were thus both put in possession of 
+funds — months before they actually paid for the goods; and, very commonly, these bills were renewed at 
+maturity, on pretence of affording time for the returns in along trade.' Unfortunately, losses by such a 
+trade, instead of leading to its contraction, led directly to its increase. The poorer men became, the 
+greater need they had to purchase, in order to make up, by new advances, the capital they had lost on the 
+past adventures. Purchases thus became, not a question of supply and demand, but the most important 
+part of the finance operations of a firm labouring under difficulties. But this is only one side of the 
+picture. What took place in reference to the export of goods at home, was taking place in the purchase 
+and shipment of produce a broad. Houses in India, who had credit to pass their bills, were purchasers of 
+sugar, indigo, silk, or cotton-not because the prices advised from London by the last overland mail 
+promised a profit on the prices current in India, but because former drafts upon the London house would 
+soon fall due, and must be provided for. What way so simple as to purchase a cargo of sugar, pay for it in 
+bills upon the London house at ten months' date, transmit the shipping documents by the overland mail; 
+and, in less than two months, the goods on the high seas, or perhaps not yet passed the mouth of the 
+Hoogly, were pawned in Lombard Street — putting the London house in funds eight months before the 
+drafts against those goods fell due. And all this went on without interruption or difficulty, as long as 
+bill-brokers had abundance of money 'at call,' to advance on bills of lading and dock warrants, and to 
+discount, without limit, the bills of India houses drawn upon the eminent firms in Mincing Lane." 
+
+[This fraudulent procedure remained in vogue so long as goods to and from India had to round the Cape 
+in sailing vessels. But ever since they are being shipped in steamboats via the Suez Canal this method of 
+fabricating fictitious capital has been deprived of its basis — the long freight voyage. And ever since the 
+telegraph informs the English businessman about the Indian market and the Indian merchant about the 
+English market, on the same day this method has become totally impracticable. — F.E.] 
+
+III. The following is taken from the quoted Report on Commercial Distress, 1847-48: "In the last week of 
+April 1847, the Bank of England advised the Royal Bank of Liverpool that it would thereafter reduce its 
+discount business with the latter bank by one-half. The announcement operated with peculiar hardship on 
+this account, that the payments into Liverpool had latterly been much more in bills than in cash; and the 
+merchants who generally brought to the Bank a large proportion of cash with which to pay their 
+acceptances, had latterly been able to bring only bills which they had received for their cotton and other 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 25 
+
+produce, and that Increased very rapidly as the difficulties increased... The acceptances... which the Bank 
+had to pay for the merchants, were acceptances drawn chiefly upon them from abroad, and they have 
+been accustomed to meet those acceptances by whatever payment they received for their produce... The 
+bills that the merchants brought... in lieu of cash, which they usually brought... were of various dates, and 
+of various descriptions; a considerable number of them were bankers' bills, of three months' date, the 
+large bulk being cotton bills. These bills of exchange, when bankers' bills, were accepted by London 
+bankers, and by merchants in every trade that we could mention — the Brazilian, the American, the 
+Canadian, the West Indian... The merchants did not draw upon each other; but the parties in the interior, 
+who had purchased produce from the merchants, remitted to the merchants bills on London bankers, or 
+bills on various parties in London, or bills upon anybody. The announcement of the Bank of England 
+caused a reduction of the maturity terms of bills drawn against sales of foreign products, frequently 
+extending to over three months" (pp. 26, 27). 
+
+The period of prosperity in England from 1844 to 1847, was, as described above, connected with the first 
+great railway swindle. The above-named report makes the following reference to the effect of this 
+swindle on business in general: In April 1847 "almost all mercantile houses had begun to starve their 
+business more or less... by taking part of their commercial capital for railways" (p. 42). "Loans were made 
+on railway shares at a high rate of interest, say, 8%, by private individuals, by bankers and by 
+fire-offices" (p. 66). "Loans to so great an extent by commercial houses to railways induced them to lean 
+too much upon banks by the discount of paper, whereby to carry on their commercial operations" (p. 67). 
+(Question:) "Should you say that the railway calls had had a great effect in producing the pressure which 
+there was" (on the money-market) "in April and October" (1847)? — (Answer:) "I should say that they 
+had had hardly any effect at all in producing the pressure in April; I should imagine that up to April, and 
+up, perhaps, to the summer, they had increased the power of bankers in some respects rather than 
+diminished it; for the expenditure had not been nearly so rapid as the calls; the consequence was, that 
+most of the banks had rather a large amount of railway money in their hands in the beginning of the 
+year." (This is corroborated in numerous statements made by bankers in C. D. 1848-57.) "In the summer 
+that melted gradually away, and on the 3 1st of December it was materially less. One cause... of the 
+pressure in October was the gradual diminution of the railway money in the bankers' hands; between the 
+22nd of April and the 31st of December the railway balances in our hands were reduced one- third; and 
+the railway calls have also had this effect throughout the Kingdom; they have been gradually draining the 
+deposits of bankers" (pp. 43, 44). — Samuel Gurney (head of the ill-famed firm of Overend, Gurney and 
+Co.) similarly says: "During the year 1846... there had been a considerable demand for capital, for the 
+establishment of rail- ways... but it did not increase the value of money... There was a condensation of 
+small sums into large masses, and those large masses were used in our market; so that, upon the whole, 
+the effect was to throw more money into the money-market of the City than to take it out" [p. 159]. 
+
+A. Hodgson, Director of the Liverpool Joint-Stock Bank, shows how much bills of exchange may 
+constitute a reserve for bankers: "It has been our habit to keep at least nine-tenths of all our deposits, and 
+all money we have of other persons, in our bill case, in bills that are falling due from day to day... so 
+much so, that during the time of the run, the bills falling due were almost equal to the amount of the ran 
+upon us day by day" (p. 53). 
+
+Speculative bills. — "5092. Who were those bills (against sold cotton) generally accepted by?" — (R. 
+Gardner, the cotton manufacturer repeatedly mentioned in this work:) "Produce brokers: a person buys 
+cotton, and places it in the hands of a broker, and draws upon that broker, and gets the bills discounted." 
+— "5094. And they are taken to the banks at Liverpool, and discounted? — Yes, and in other parts 
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 25 
+
+besides... I believe if it had not been for the accommodation thus granted, and principally by the 
+Liverpool banks, cotton would never have been so high last year as it was by 1 1/1 d. or 2d. a pound." - 
+"600. You have stated that a vast amount of bills were put in circulation, drawn by speculators upon 
+cotton brokers in Liverpool; does that system extend to your advance on acceptances upon colonial and 
+foreign produce as well as on cotton? " (A. Hodgson, a Liverpool banker:) "It refers to all kinds of 
+colonial produce, but to cotton most especially." — "601. Do you, as a banker, disencourage as far as you 
+can that description of paper? — We do not; we consider it a very legitimate description of paper, when 
+kept in moderation. This description of paper is frequently renewed." 
+
+Swindling in the East Indian and Chinese Market, 1847. — Charles Turner (head of one of the leading 
+East Indian houses in Liverpool): "We are all aware of the events which have taken place as regards the 
+Mauritius trade, and other trades of that kind. The brokers have been in the habit... not only of advancing 
+upon goods after their arrival to meet the bills drawn against those goods, which is perfectly legitimate, 
+and upon the bills of lading... but... they have advanced upon produce before it was shipped, and in some 
+cases before it was manufactured. Now, to speak of my own individual instance: I have bought bills in 
+Calcutta to the extent of six or seven thousand pounds in one particular instance; the proceeds of the bills 
+went down to the Mauritius, to help in the growth of sugar; those bills came to England, and above half 
+of them were protested; for when the shipments of sugar came forward, instead of being held to pay 
+those bills, it had been mortgaged to third parties... before it was shipped, in fact almost before it was 
+boiled" (p.78). "Now manufacturers are insisting upon cash but it does not amount to much, because if a 
+buyer has any credit in London, he can draw upon the house, and get the bill discounted; he goes to 
+London, where discounts now are cheap; he gets the bill discounted, and pays cash to the manufacturer... 
+It takes twelve months, at least, for the shipper of goods to get his return from India... a man with ten or 
+fifteen thousand pounds would go into the Indian trade; he would open a credit with a house in London, 
+to a considerable extent, giving that house one per cent; he, drawing upon the house in London, on the 
+understanding that the proceeds of the goods that go out are to be returned to the house in London, but it 
+being perfectly understood by both parties that the man in London is to be kept out of a cash advance; 
+that is to say, in other words, the bills are to be renewed till the proceeds come home. The bills were 
+discounted at Liverpool, Manchester... or in London... many of them lie in the Scotch banks" (p. 79). — 
+"786. There is one house which failed in London the other day, and in examining their affairs, a 
+transaction of this sort was proved to have taken place; there is a house of business at Manchester, and 
+another at Calcutta; they opened a credit account with a house in London to the extent of £200,000; that 
+is to say, the friends of this house in Manchester, who consigned goods to the East India House from 
+Glasgow and from Manchester, had the power of drawing upon the house in London to the extent of 
+£200,000; at the same time, there was an understanding that the corresponding house in Calcutta were to 
+draw upon the London house to the extent of £200,000; with the proceeds of those bills sold in Calcutta, 
+they were to buy other bills, and remit them to the house in London, to take up the first bills drawn from 
+Glasgow... There would have been £600,000 of bills created upon that transaction." — "971. At present, if 
+a house in Calcutta purchase a cargo" (for England), "and give their own bills upon their correspondent 
+in London in payment, and they send the bills of lading home to this country, those bills of lading... 
+immediately become available to them in Lombard Street for advances, and they have eight months' use 
+of the money before their correspondents are called upon to pay." 
+
+IV. In 1848 a secret committee of the House of Lords investigated the causes of the 1847 crisis. The 
+evidence given to the committee was not published, however, until 1857 (Minutes of Evidence, taken 
+before the Secret Committee of the H. of L. appointed to inquire into the Causes of Distress, etc., 1857; 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 25 
+
+quoted as CD. 1848/57). Here Mr. Lister, Director of the Union Bank of Liverpool, testified, among 
+other things, to the following: 
+
+"2444. In the spring of 1844 there was an undue extension of credit... because a man transferred property 
+from business into railways and was still anxious to carry on the same extent of business. He probably 
+first thought that he could sell the railway shares at a profit and replace the money in his business. 
+Perhaps he found that could not be done, and he then got credit in his business where formerly he paid in 
+cash. There was an extension of credit from that circumstance." 
+
+"2500. Were those bills... upon which the banks had sustained a loss by holding them, principally bills 
+upon corn or bills upon cotton?-They were bills upon all kinds of produce, corn and cotton and sugar, all 
+foreign produce of all descriptions. There was scarcely any thing perhaps with the exception of oil, that 
+did not go down." — "2506. A broker who accepts a bill will not accept it without a good margin as to the 
+value." 
+
+"2512. There are two kinds of b ills drawn against produce; the first is the original bill drawn abroad 
+upon the merchant, who imports it... The bills which are drawn against produce frequently fall due before 
+the produce arrives. The merchant, therefore, when it arrives, if he has not sufficient capital, has to 
+pledge that produce with the broker till he has time to sell that produce. Then anew species of bill is 
+immediately drawn by the merchant in Liverpool upon the broker, on the security of that produce... Then 
+it is the business of the banker to ascertain from the broker whether he has the produce, and to what 
+extent he has advanced upon it. It is his business to see that the broker has property to protect himself if 
+he makes a loss." 
+
+"2516. We also receive bills from abroad... A man buys a bill abroad on England, and sends it to a house 
+in England; we cannot tell whether that bill is drawn prudently or imprudently, whether it is drawn for 
+produce or for wind." 
+
+"2533. You said that almost every kind of foreign produce was sold at a great loss. Do you think that that 
+was in consequence of undue speculation in that produce? — It arose from a very large import, end there 
+not being an equal consumption to take it off. It appears that consumption fell off a great deal." — "2534. 
+In October produce was almost unsaleable." 
+
+How a general sauve quipeut develops at the height of a crisis is revealed in the same report by a 
+first-rate expert, the esteemed crafty Quaker, Samuel Gurney, of Overend, Gurney and Co.: "1262 . . 
+When a panic exists a man does not ask himself what he can get for his bank-notes, or whether he shall 
+lose one or two per cent by selling his exchequer bills, or three per cent. If he is under the influence of 
+alarm he does not care for the profit or loss, but makes himself safe and allows the rest of the world to do 
+as they please." 
+
+V. Concerning the mutual satiation of the two markets Mr. Alexander, a merchant in the East India trade, 
+testifies before the Committee of the, Lower House on the Bank Act of 1857 (quoted as B.C. 1857): 
+"4330. At the present moment, if I lay out 6s. in Manchester, I get 5s. back in India; if I lay out 6s. in 
+India, I get 5s. back in London." So that the Indian market is, therefore, drugged by England, and the 
+English by India. This was, indeed, the case in the summer of 1857, barely ten years after the bitter 
+experience of 1847! 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 25 
+
+Next: Chapter 26 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 26 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+PartV 
+
+DIVISION OF PROFIT INTO INTEREST AND PROFIT 
+
+OF ENTERPRISE. 
+
+INTEREST-BEARING CAPITAL 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 26 
+
+Accumulation of Money-Capital. 
+Its Influence on the Interest Rate 
+
+
+
+"In England there takes place a steady accumulation of additional wealth, which has a tendency 
+ultimately to assume the form of money. Now next in urgency, perhaps, to the desire to acquire money, is 
+the wish to part with it again for some species of investment that shall yield either interest or profit; for 
+money itself, as money, yields neither. Unless, therefore, concurrently with this ceaseless influx of 
+surplus-capital, there is a gradual and sufficient extension of the field for its employment, we must be 
+subject to periodical accumulations of money seeking investment, of more or less volume, according to 
+the movement of events. For a long series of years, the grand absorbent of the surplus wealth of England 
+was our public debt... As soon as in 1816 the debt reached its maximum, and operated no longer as an 
+absorbent, a sum of at least seven-and-twenty million per annum was necessarily driven to seek other 
+channels of investment. What was more, various return payments of capital were made... Enterprises 
+which entail a large capital and create an opening from time to time for the excess of unemployed 
+capital... are absolutely necessary, at least in our country, so as to take care of the periodical 
+accumulations of the superfluous wealth of society, which is unable to find room in the usual fields of 
+application." (The Currency Theory Reviewed, London, 1845, pp. 32-34.) Of 1845 the same work says: 
+"Within a very recent period prices have sprung upwards from the lowest point of depression... Consols 
+touch par... The bullion in the vaults of the Bank of England has... exceeded in amount the treasure held 
+by that establishment since its institution. Shares of every description range at prices on the average 
+wholly unprecedented, and interest has declined to rates which are all but nominal. If these be not 
+evidences that another heavy accumulation of unemployed wealth exists at this hour in England, that 
+another period of speculative excitement is at hand." (Ibid., p. 36.) 
+
+"Although... the import of bullion is no sure sign of gain upon the foreign trade, yet, in the absence of 
+any explanatory cause, it does prima facie represent a portion of it." (J. G. Hubbard, The Currency and 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 26 
+
+the Country, London, 1843, pp. 40-411.) "Suppose... that at a period of steady trade, fair prices... and 
+full, but not redundant circulation, a deficient harvest should give occasion for an import of corn, and an 
+export of gold to the value of five million. The circulation [meaning, as we shall presently see, idle 
+money-capital rather than means of circulation — F.E.] would of course be reduced by the same amount. 
+An equal quantity of the circulation might still be held by individuals, but the deposits of merchants at 
+their bankers, the balances of bankers with their money-broker, and the reserve in their till, will all be 
+diminished, and the immediate result of this reduction in the amount of unemployed capital will be a rise 
+in the rate of interest. I will assume from 4 per cent to 6. Trade being in a sound state, confidence will not 
+be shaken, but credit will be more highly valued." (Ibid., p. 42.) "But imagine... that all prices fall... The 
+superfluous currency returns to the bankers in increased deposits-the abundance of unemployed capital 
+lowers the rate of interest to a minimum, and this state of things lasts until either a return of higher prices 
+or a more active trade call the dormant currency into service, or until it is absorbed by investments in 
+foreign stocks or foreign goods" (p. 68). 
+
+The following extracts are also taken from the parliamentary Report on Commercial Distress, 1847-48. — 
+Owing to the crop failure and famine of 1846-47 large-scale imports of foodstuffs became necessary. 
+"These circumstances caused the imports of the country to be very largely in excess over... exports... a 
+considerable drain upon the banks, and an increased application to the discount brokers... for the discount 
+of bills... They began to scrutinise the bills... The facilities of houses then began to be very seriously 
+curtailed, and the weak houses began to fail. Those houses which... relied upon their credit... went down. 
+This increased the alarm that had been previously felt; and the bankers and others finding that they would 
+not rely with the same degree of confidence that they had previously done upon turning their bills and 
+other money securities into bank-notes, for the purpose of meeting their engagements, still further 
+curtailed their facilities, and in many cases refused them altogether; they locked up their bank-notes, in 
+many instances to meet their own engagements; they were afraid of parting with them... The alarm and 
+confusion were increased daily; and unless Lord John Russell... had issued the letter to the Bank... 
+universal bankruptcy would have been the issue" (pp. 74-75). Russell's letter suspended the Bank Act. — 
+The previously mentioned Charles Turner testifies: "Some houses had large means, but not available. 
+The whole of their capital was locked up in estates in the Mauritius, or indigo factories, or sugar 
+factories. Having incurred liabilities to the extent of £500,000 or £600,000 they had no available assets to 
+pay their bills, and eventually it proved that to pay their bills they were entirely dependent upon their 
+credit" (p. 81). The aforementioned S. Gurney said [1664]: "At present (1848) there is a limitation of 
+transaction and a great superabundance of money." — 1763. 1 do not think it was owing to the want of 
+capital; it was owing to the alarm that existed that the rate of interest got so high." 
+
+In 1847 England paid at least £9 million gold to foreign countries for imported foodstuffs. Of this amount 
+£7 1/2 million came from the Bank of England and 1 1/2 million from other sources (p. 245). — Morris, 
+Governor of the Bank of England: "The public stocks in the country and canal and railway shares had 
+already by the 23rd of October 1847 been depreciated in the aggregate to the amount of £1 14,752,225" 
+(p. 312). Again Morris, when questioned by Lord G. Bentinck: "Are you not aware that all property 
+invested in stocks and produce of every description was depreciated in the same way; that raw cotton, 
+raw silk and unmanufactured wool were sent to the continent at the same depreciated price... and that 
+sugar, coffee and tea were sacrificed as at forced sales? — It was... inevitable that the country should 
+make a considerable sacrifice for the purpose of meeting the efflux of bullion which had taken place in 
+consequence of the large importation of food." — "Do not you think it would have been better to trench 
+upon the £8,000,000 lying in the coffers of the Bank than to have endeavoured to get the gold back again 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 26 
+
+at such a sacrifice? — No, I do not. " — Now to the commentaries on such heroism. Disraeli questions Mr. 
+W. Cotton, a Director and former Governor of the Bank of England: "What was the rate of dividend paid 
+to the Bank proprietors in 1844? — It was 7 per cent for the year." -- "What is the dividend... for 1847? — 
+Nine per cent." — "Does the Bank pay the income tax for its proprietors in this year? — It does." — "Did it 
+do so in 1844? - It did not." £1] - "Then this Bank Act (of 1844) has worked very well for the 
+proprietors?... The result is, that since the passing of the Act, the dividend to the proprietors has been 
+raised from 7 per cent to 9 per cent, and the income tax, that previously to the Act was paid by the 
+proprietors, is now paid by the Bank? — It is so. " (Nos. 4356-61.) 
+
+Mr. Pease, a country banker, had the following to say concerning hoarding in banks during the crisis of 
+1847: "4605. As the Bank was obliged still to raise its rate of interest, every one seemed apprehensive; 
+country bankers increased the amount of bullion in their hands, and increased their reserve of notes, and 
+many of us who were in the habit of keeping, perhaps, a few hundred pounds of gold and bank-notes, 
+immediately laid up thousands in our desks and drawers, as there was an uncertainty about discounts, and 
+about our bills being current in the market, a general hoarding ensued. " A member of the Committee 
+remarks: "4691. Then, whatever may have been the cause during the last 12 years, the result has been 
+rather in favour of the Jew and money-dealer, than the productive classes generally." 
+
+How much a money-dealer takes advantage of times of crisis is revealed by Tooke: "In the hardware 
+districts of Warwickshire and Staffordshire, a great many orders for goods were declined to be accepted 
+in 1847, because the rate of interest which the manufacturer had to pay for discounting his bills more 
+than absorbed all his profit" (No. 5451). 
+
+Let us now take another parliamentary report cited earlier: Report of Select Committee on Bank Acts, 
+communicated from the Commons to the Lords, 1857 (quoted further as B. C. 1857). In it Mr. Norman, 
+Director of the Bank of England and a leading figure among the champions of the Currency Principle, is 
+interrogated as follows: 
+
+"3635. You stated, that you consider that the rate of interest depends, not upon the amount of notes, but 
+upon the supply and demand of capital. Will you state what you include in 'capital,' besides notes and 
+coin? — I believe that the ordinary definition of 'capital' is commodities or services used in production." 
+— "3636. Do you mean to include all commodities in the word 'capital' when you speak of the rate of 
+interest? — All commodities used in production." — "3637. You include all that in the word 'capital,' 
+when you speak of what regulates the rate of interest? — Yes. Supposing a cotton manufacturer to want 
+cotton for his factory, the way in which he goes to work to obtain it is, probably, by getting an advance 
+from his banker, and with the notes so obtained he goes to Liverpool, and makes a purchase. What he 
+really wants is the cotton; he does not want the notes or the gold, except as a means of getting the cotton. 
+Or he may want the means of paying his workmen; then again, he borrows the notes, and he pays the 
+wages of the workmen with the notes; and the workmen, again, require food and lodging, and the money 
+is the means of paying for those." — "3638. But interest is paid for the money? — It is, in the first 
+instance; but take another case. Supposing he buys the cotton on credit, without going to the bank for an 
+advance, then the difference between the ready-money price and the credit price at the time at which he 
+is to pay for it is the measure of the interest. Interest would exist if there was no money at all." 
+
+This self-complacent, rubbish is quite fitting for this pillar of the Currency Principle. First, the brilliant 
+discovery that bank-notes or gold are means of buying something, and that they are not borrowed for 
+their own sake. And this is advanced to explain that the rate of interest is regulated -- but by what? By the 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 26 
+
+demand and supply of commodities, which heretofore was known to regulate only the market-prices of 
+commodities. However, very different rates of interest are compatible with the same market-prices of 
+commodities. — But now this cunning. He is confronted with the correct remark: "But interest is paid for 
+the money," which, of course, contains the implication: "What has interest received by the banker, who 
+does not deal in commodities at all, to do with these commodities? And do not manufacturers receive 
+money at the same rate of interest, although they invest it in widely different markets, hence in markets 
+with widely different conditions of demand and supply for the commodities used in production?" All that 
+this celebrated genius has to say in reply to these questions is that if the manufacturer buys cotton on 
+credit "the difference between the ready-money price and the credit price at the time at which he is to pay 
+for it is the measure of the interest." Quite the contrary. The prevailing rate of interest whose regulation 
+the great intellect Norman was asked to explain is the measure of the difference between the cash price 
+and the credit price until payment is due. First the cotton is to be sold at its cash price, and this is 
+determined by the market-price, itself regulated by the state of supply and demand. Say the price £1,000. 
+This concludes the transaction between the manufacturer and the cotton broker so far as buying and 
+selling is concerned. Now comes a second transaction. This is one between lender and borrower. The 
+value of £1,000 is advanced to the manufacturer in cotton, and he has to repay it in money, say, in three 
+months. And three months' interest for £1000, determined by the market rate of interest, makes up the 
+extra charge over and above the cash price. The price of cotton is determined by supply and demand. But 
+the price of the advanced value of cotton, of £1,000 advanced for three months, is determined by the rate 
+of interest. And this fact, that cotton is thus transformed into money-capital, proves to Mr. Norman that 
+interest would exist even if there had been no money. If there were no money at all, there would certainly 
+be no general rate of interest. 
+
+There is, to begin with, a vulgar conception of capital as "commodities used in production." In so far as 
+these commodities serve as capital, their value as capital, as distinct from their value as commodities, is 
+expressed in the profit which is derived from their productive or mercantile employment. And the rate of 
+profit under all circumstances has something to do with the market-price of the purchased commodities 
+and with their supply and demand, but is determined by entirely different circumstances. And there is no 
+doubt that the interest rate is generally limited by the rate of profit. But Mr. Norman should tell us just 
+how this limit is determined. And it is determined by the supply and demand of money-capital as 
+distinguished from the other forms of capital. It could be further asked: How are demand and supply of 
+money-capital determined? It is doubtlessly true that a tacit connection exists between the supply of 
+material capital and the supply of money-capital; and, likewise, that the demand of industrial capitalists 
+for money-capital is determined by conditions of actual production. Instead of enlightening us on this 
+point, Norman offers us the sage opinion that the demand for money-capital is not identical with the 
+demand for money as such; and this sagacity alone, because he, Overstone, and the other Currency 
+prophets, constantly have pricks of conscience since they are striving to make capital out of means of 
+circulation as such through the artificial intervention of legislation, and to raise the interest rate. 
+
+Now to Lord Overstone, alias Samuel Jones Loyd, as he is asked to explain why he takes 10% for his 
+"money" because "capital" is so scarce in his country. 
+
+"3653. The fluctuations in the rate of interest arise from one of two causes: an alteration in the value of 
+capital" (excellent! Value of capital, generally speaking, signifies precisely the rate of interest! A change 
+in the rate of interest is thus made to spring from a change in the rate of interest. "Value of capital," as we 
+have shown elsewhere, is never conceived otherwise in theory. Or else, if Lord Overstone means the rate 
+of profit by the phrase "value of capital", then the profound thinker returns to the notion that the interest 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 26 
+
+rate is regulated by the rate of profit!) "or an alteration in the amount of money in the country. All great 
+fluctuations of interest, great either in their duration or in the extent of the fluctuation, may be distinctly 
+traced to alterations in the value of capital. Two more striking practical illustrations of that fact cannot be 
+furnished than the rise in the rate of interest in 1847 and during the last two years (1855-56); the minor 
+fluctuations in the rate of interest, which arise from an alteration in the quantity of money, are small both 
+in extent and in duration. They are frequent, and the more rapid and frequent they are, the more effectual 
+they are for accomplishing their destined purpose", which is to enrich bankers like Overstone. Friend 
+Samuel Gurney expresses it very naively before the Committee of Lords, C. D. 1848 [1857]: "1324. Do 
+you think that the great fluctuations in the rate of interest which have taken place in the last year are 
+advantageous or not to bankers or dealers in money? — I think they are advantageous to dealers in 
+money. All fluctuations in trade are advantageous to the knowing man." — "1325. May not the banker 
+suffer eventually from the high rates of interest, by impoverishing his best customers? — No; I do not 
+think it has that effect perceptibly." — Voila ce que parler veut dire. [This is what had to be said. — Ed.] 
+
+We shall eventually return to the influence of the quantity of available money on the rate of interest. But 
+it is to be noted right here that Overstone again makes a quid pro quo. The demand for money-capital in 
+1847 (before October there was no anxiety over money stringency, or the "quantity of money," as he 
+called it) increased for various reasons, such as rising prices for corn and cotton, lack of buyers of sugar 
+due to over-production, railway speculation and the crash, overcrowding of foreign markets with cotton 
+goods, and the forced export to, and import from, India for the purpose of speculation in bills of 
+exchange, which was described above. All these things, over-production in industry and underproduction 
+in agriculture — in other words, greatly differing causes — gave rise to an increased demand for 
+money-capital, i.e., for credit and money. The increased demand for money-capital had its origin in the 
+course of the productive process itself. But whatever may have been the cause, it was the demand for 
+money-capital which made the interest rate, the value of money-capital, climb. If Overstone means to say 
+that the value of money-capital rose because it rose, then it is tautology. But if, by "value of capital," he 
+means a rise in the rate of profit as the cause of the rise in the rate of interest, we shall immediately see 
+that this is wrong. The demand for money-capital, and consequently the "value of capital," may rise even 
+though the profit may decrease; as soon as the relative supply of money-capital shrinks, its "value" 
+increases. What Overstone wished to prove is that the crisis of 1847, and the attendant high interest rate, 
+had nothing to do with the "quantity of money," i.e., with the regulations of the Bank Act of 1844 which 
+he had inspired; although it was, indeed, connected with them, inasmuch as the fear of exhausting the 
+bank reserve — a creation of Overstone — contributed a money panic to the crisis of 1847-48. But this is 
+not the issue here. There was a dearth of money-capital, caused by the excessive volume of operations 
+compared to the available means and precipitated by the disturbance in the reproduction process due to a 
+crop failure, over-investment in railways, over-production, particularly of cotton goods, swindling 
+operations in trade with India and China, speculation, superfluous sugar imports, etc. What the people, 
+who had bought corn at 120 shillings per quarter, lacked when it fell to 60 shillings, were the 60 shillings 
+which they had overpaid and the corresponding credit for that amount in Lombard Street advances on the 
+corn. It was by no means a lack of bank-notes that prevented them from converting their corn into money 
+at its old price of 120 shillings. The same applied to those who had imported an excess of sugar, which 
+became almost unsaleable. It applied likewise to the gentlemen who had tied up their floating capital in 
+railways and relied on credit to replace it in their "legitimate" business. To Overstone all this signifies a 
+"moral sense of the enhanced value of his money." But this enhanced value of money-capital 
+corresponded directly on the other hand to the depreciated money-value of real capital 
+(commodity-capital and productive capital). The value of capital in the one form rose because the value 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 26 
+
+of capital in the other fell. Overstone, however, seeks to identify these two values of different sorts of 
+capital in a single value of capital in general, and he tries to do so by opposing both of them to a scarcity 
+of the medium of circulation, of available money. But the same amount of money-capital may be loaned 
+with very different quantities of the circulation medium. 
+
+Take his example of 1847. The official bank-rate stood at 3 to 3 1/2% in January; 4 to 4i/2% in February. In 
+March it was generally 4%. April (panic) 4 to 7 1/2%. May 5 to 5 1/2%, June, on the whole, 5%. July 5%. 
+August 5 to 5 1/2%. September 5% with trifling variations of 5 1/4, 5 1/2, 6%. October 5, 5 1/2, 7%. November 
+7-10%. December 7 to 5%. — In this case the interest rose because profits decreased and the 
+money-values of commodities fell enormously. If, therefore, Overstone says here that the rate of interest 
+rose in 1847 because the value of capital rose, he cannot mean anything by value of capital but the value 
+of money-capital, and the value of money-capital is the rate of interest, and nothing else. But later he 
+showed the cloven hoof and identified the value of capital with the rate of profit. 
+
+As for the high rate of interest paid in 1856, Overstone was indeed ignorant of the fact that this was 
+partially a symptom that the credit jobbers were coming to the fore, who paid interest not from their 
+profit, but with the capital of others; he maintained just a few months before the crisis of 1857 that 
+"business is quite sound." 
+
+He testified furthermore: [B.C. 1857] "3722. That idea of the profits of trade being destroyed by a rise in 
+the rate of interest is most erroneous. In the first place, a rise in the rate of interest is seldom of any long 
+duration; in the second place, if it is of long duration, and of great extent, it is really a rise in the value of 
+capital, and why does value of capital rise? Because the rate of profit is increased." — Here, then, we 
+learn, at last, what the meaning of "value of capital" is. Furthermore, the rate of profit may be high for a 
+lengthy period, and yet the profit of enterprise may fall and the rate of interest rise to a point where it 
+swallows the greater portion of the profit. 
+
+"3724. The rise in the rate of interest has been in consequence of the great increase in the trade of the 
+country, and the great rise in the rate of profits; and to complain of the rise in the rate of interest as being 
+destructive of the two things, which have been its own cause, is a sort of logical absurdity, which one 
+does not know how to deal with. — "This is just as logical as if he were to say: The rise in the rate of 
+profit has been in consequence of the rise in commodity-prices by speculation, and to complain that the 
+rise in prices destroys its own cause, namely, speculation, is a logical absurdity, etc. That anything can 
+ultimately destroy its own cause is a logical absurdity only for the usurer enamoured of the high interest 
+rate. The greatness of the Romans was the cause of their conquests, and their conquests destroyed their 
+greatness. Wealth is the cause of luxury and luxury has a destructive effect on wealth. The wiseacre! The 
+idiocy of the present-day bourgeois world cannot be better described than by the respect, which the 
+"logic" of the millionaire — the dunghill aristocrat — inspired in all England. Furthermore, if a high rate 
+of profit and an expansion of business may be causes of a high interest rate, a high rate of interest is by 
+no means therefore a cause of high profit. The question is precisely whether such a high interest (as was 
+actually discovered during the crisis) continued or, what is more, reached its climax after the high rate of 
+profit had long gone the way of all flesh. 
+
+"3718. With regard to a great rise in the rate of discount, that is a circumstance entirely arising from the 
+increased value of capital, and the cause of that increased value of capital I think any person may 
+discover with perfect clearness. I have already alluded to the fact that during the 13 years this Act has 
+been in operation, the trade of this country has increased from £45,000,000 to £120,000,000. Let any 
+
+
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+
+person reflect upon all the events which are involved in that short statement; let him consider the 
+enormous demand upon capital for the purpose of carrying on such a gigantic increase of trade, and let 
+him consider at the same time that the natural source from which that great demand should be supplied, 
+namely, the annual savings of this country, has for the last three or four years been consumed in the 
+unprofitable expenditure of war. I confess that my surprise is, that the rate of interest is not much higher 
+than it is; or, in other words, my surprise is, that the pressure for capital to carry on these gigantic 
+operations, is not far more stringent than you have found it to be." 
+
+What an amazing jumble of words by our logician of usury! Here he comes again with his increased 
+value of capital! He seems to think that this enormous expansion of the reproduction process, hence 
+accumulation of real capital, took place on one side, and that on the other there existed a "capital", for 
+which there arose an "enormous demand", in order to accomplish this gigantic increase of commerce! 
+Was not this enormous increase of production an increase of capital itself, and if it created a demand, did 
+it not also create the supply, and, simultaneously, an increased supply of money-capital? If the interest 
+rate rose very high, then merely because the demand for money-capital increased still more rapidly than 
+its supply, which implies, in other words, that with the expansion of industrial production its operation on 
+a credit basis expanded as well. That is to say, the actual industrial expansion caused an increased 
+demand for "accommodation," and the latter demand is evidently what our banker means by the 
+"enormous demand for capital." It was surely not the expansion of this demand for capital alone, which 
+raised the export business from £45 to £120 million. And furthermore, what does Overstone mean when 
+he says that the country's annual savings swallowed by the Crimean War form the natural source of 
+supply for this big demand? in the first place, how did England achieve accumulation in 1792-1815, 
+which was a far different war from the little Crimean one? In the second place, if the natural source was 
+dry, from what source did capital flow at all? It is well known that England did not request loans from 
+foreign countries. Yet if there is an artificial source besides the natural one, it would have been best for a 
+nation to utilise the natural source in war and the artificial one in business. But if only the old 
+money-capital was available, could it double its effectiveness through a high rate of interest? Mr. 
+Overstone evidently thinks that the country's annual savings (which, however, were supposed to have 
+been consumed in this case) are converted only into money-capital. But if no real accumulation, i.e., 
+expansion of production and augmentation of the means of production, had taken place, what good 
+would there be from the accumulation of debtor's money claims on this production? 
+
+The increase in the "value of capital" springing from a high rate of profit is identified by Overstone with 
+an increase caused by a greater demand for money-capital. This demand may climb for reasons quite 
+independent of the rate of profit. He himself cites the example of its rise in 4847 as a result of the 
+depreciation of real capital. Depending on what suits his purpose, he ascribes the value of capital to real 
+capital or money-capital. 
+
+The dishonesty of our banking lord, and his narrow-minded banker's point of view with its didactic 
+flavouring are further revealed in the following: (3728. Question:) "You have stated that the rate of 
+discount is of no material moment you think to the merchant; will you be kind enough to state what you 
+consider the ordinary rate of profit? — "Mr. Overstone declares that it is "impossible" to answer this 
+question. — "3729. Supposing the average rate of profit to be, say, from 7 to 10%, a variation of from 2 to 
+7 or 8% in the rate of discount must materially affect the rate of profit, must it not? " (This question itself 
+lumps together the rate of profit of enterprise with the rate of profit, and. passes over the fact that the rate 
+of profit is the common source of interest and profit of enterprise. The interest rate may leave the rate of 
+profit untouched, but not the profit of enterprise. Overstone replied:) "In the first place parties will not 
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+
+pay a rate of discount which seriously interrupts their profits; they will discontinue their business rather 
+than do that." (Yes, if they can do so without ruining themselves. So long as their profit is high, they pay 
+the discount because they wish to, and when it is low, because they have to.) "What is the meaning of 
+discount? Why does a person discount a bill?... Because he wants to obtain the command of a greater 
+quantity of capital." (Halte-laf because he wants to anticipate the return in money of his tied-up capital 
+and to prevent his business from stopping; because he must meet payments due. He demands more 
+capital only when business is good, or when he speculates on another's capital, though business may be 
+bad. The discount is by no means simply a device to expand business.) "And why does he want to obtain 
+the command of a greater quantity of capital? Because he wants to employ that capital; and why does he 
+want to employ that capital? Because it is profitable to him to do so; it would not be profitable to him to 
+do so if the discount destroyed his profit." 
+
+This smug logician assumes that bills of exchange are discounted only for the purpose of expanding 
+business, and that business is expanded because it is profitable. The first assumption is wrong. The 
+ordinary businessman discounts, in order to anticipate the money-form of his capital and thereby to keep 
+his process of reproduction in flow; not in order to expand his business or secure additional capital, but in 
+order to balance the credit he gives by the credit he receives. And if he wants to expand his business on 
+credit, discounting bills will do him little good because it is merely conversion of the money-capital 
+which he already has in his hands from one form into another; he will rather take a direct loan for a 
+longer period. The credit swindler will get his accommodation bills discounted to expand his business 
+activity, to cover one squalid business deal by another; not to make profits but to obtain possession of 
+another's capital. 
+
+After Mr. Overstone has thus identified discounting with borrowing additional capital (instead of with 
+converting bills representing capital into hard cash), he beats an instant retreat as soon as the screws are 
+applied to him. — (3730. Question:) "Merchants being engaged in business, must they not for a certain 
+period carry on their operations in despite of any temporary increase in the rate of discount?" — 
+(Overstone:) "There is no doubt that in any particular transaction, if a person can get his command of 
+capital at a low rate of interest rather than at a high rate of interest, taken in that limited view of the 
+matter, that is convenient to him." — But it is a very unlimited point of view, on the other hand, which 
+enables Mr. Overstone quite suddenly to understand only his, Lanker's capital, as "capital," and to 
+assume that the man who discounts a bill of exchange with him is a man without capital, just because his 
+capital exists in the form of commodities, or because the money-form of his capital is a bill of exchange, 
+which Mr. Overstone converts into another money-form. 
+
+3732. "With reference to the Act of 1844, can you state what has been about the average rate of interest 
+in proportion to the amount of bullion in the Bank; would it be a fact that when the amount of bullion has 
+been about £9,000,000 or £10,000,000 the rate of interest has been 6 or 7 per cent, and that when it has 
+been £16,000,000, the rate of interest has been, say, from 3 to 4 per cent?" (The examiner wishes to press 
+him to explain the rate of interest, so far as it is influenced by the amount of bullion in the Bank, on the 
+basis of the rate of interest, so far as it is influenced by the value of capital.) — "I do not apprehend that 
+that is so... but if it is, then I think we must take still more stringent measures than those adopted by the 
+Act of 1844, because if it be true that the greater the store of bullion, the lower the rate of interest, we 
+ought to set to work, according to that view of the matter, to increase the store of bullion to an indefinite 
+amount, and then we should get the interest down to nothing." — The examiner, Cayley, unmoved by this 
+poor joke, continues: "3733. If that be so, supposing that £5,000,000 of bullion was to be restored to the 
+Bank, in the course of the next six months the bullion then would amount, say, to £16,000,000, and 
+
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+
+supposing that the rate of interest was thus to fall to 3 or 4 per cent, how could it be stated that that fall in 
+the rate of interest arose from a great decrease of the trade of the country? — I said that the recent rise in 
+the rate of interest, not that the fall in the rate of interest, was closely connected with the great increase in 
+the trade of the country." — But what Cayley says is this: If a rise of interest rate together with a 
+contraction of the gold reserve, is an indication of an expansion in business, then a fall of the interest rate 
+together with an expansion of the gold reserve, must be an indication of a contraction of business. 
+Overstone has no answer to this. — (3736. Question:) "I observed you" (in the text always "Your 
+Lordship") "to say that money was the instrument for obtaining capital." (Precisely this is the mistake, to 
+conceive money as an instrument; it is a form of capital.) "Under a drain of bullion (of the Bank of 
+England) is not the great strain, on the contrary, for capitalists to obtain money?" — (Overstone:) "No, it 
+is not the capitalists, it is those who are not capitalists, who want to obtain money and why do they want 
+to obtain money?... Because through the money they obtain the command of the capital of the capitalist 
+to carry on the business of the persons who are not capitalists." — Here he declares point-blank that 
+manufacturers and merchants are not capitalists, and that the capitalist's capital is only money-capital. — 
+"3737. Are not the parties who draw bills of exchange capitalists? — The parties who draw bills of 
+exchange may be, and may not be, capitalists." — Here he is stuck. 
+
+He is then asked whether merchants' bills of exchange represent commodities which have been sold or 
+shipped. He denies that these bills represent the value of commodities in the same way that a bank-note 
+represents gold. (3740, 3741.) This is somewhat insolent. 
+
+"3742. Is it not the merchant's object to get money? — No; getting money is not the object in drawing the 
+bill; getting money is the object in discounting the bill." — Drawing bills of exchange is converting 
+commodities into a form of credit-money, just as discounting bills of exchange is converting this 
+credit-money into another, namely bank-notes. At any rate, Mr. Overstone admits here that the purpose 
+of discounting is to obtain money. A while ago he said that discounting was a way not of converting 
+capital from one form into another, but of obtaining additional capital. 
+
+"3743. What is the great desire of the mercantile community under pressure of panic, such as you state to 
+have occurred in 1825, 1837 and 1839; is their object to get possession of capital or the legal tender? - 
+Their object is to get the command of capital to support their business." — Their purpose is to obtain 
+means of payment for due bills of exchange on themselves, on account of the prevailing lack of credit, so 
+that they will not have to let their commodities go below price. If they have no capital at all themselves, 
+they receive it along with the means of payment, because they receive value without an equivalent. The 
+urge to obtain money as such consists always in the wish to convert value from the form of commodities 
+or creditor's claims into the form of money. Hence, even aside from the crises, the great difference 
+between borrowing capital and discount, the latter being a mere conversion of money claims from one 
+form into another, or into real money. 
+
+[I take the liberty at this point in my capacity of editor to interpolate a few remarks. 
+
+With respect to Norman, as well as Loyd-Overstone, the banker is always the one who "advances capital" 
+to others, and his customers are those who demand "capital" from him. Thus, Overstone says that people 
+have bills of exchange discounted through him, "because they wish to obtain the command of capital" 
+(3729), and that it is pleasant for such people if they can "get command of capital at a low rate of 
+interest" (3730). "Money is the instrument for obtaining capital" (3736), and during a panic the great 
+desire of the mercantile community is to "get the command of capital" (3743). For all of 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 26 
+
+Loyd-Overstone's confusion over what capital is, it is at least clear that he designates what the banker 
+gives to his client as capital, as a capital which the client did not formerly possess, but which was 
+advanced to him to supplement what he already possessed. 
+
+The banker has become so accustomed to act as distributor (through loans) of the social capital available 
+in money-form that he considers every function whereby he hands out money, as loaning. All the money 
+he pays out appears to him as a loan. If the money is directly loaned, this is literally true. If it is invested 
+in the bill-discounting business, it is in fact advanced by himself until the bill becomes due. The notion 
+thus grows on him that all the payments he makes are advances; furthermore, that they are advances not 
+merely in the sense that every investment of money with the object of deriving interest or profit, is 
+economically considered an advance of money which the owner of money concerned, in his capacity of 
+private individual, makes to himself in his capacity as entrepreneur, but advances in the definite sense 
+that the banker lends his client a sum of money which augments the capital already at the latter's 
+disposal. 
+
+It is this conception, which, transferred from the banker's office to political economy, has created the 
+confusing controversy, whether that which the banker places at his client's disposal in hard cash is capital 
+or mere money, a medium of circulation, or currency. To decide this — fundamentally simple — 
+controversy, we must put ourselves in the place of a bank client. It all depends on what this customer 
+requests and receives. 
+
+If the bank allows its client a loan simply on his personal credit, without any security on his part, then the 
+matter is clear. He then certainly receives an advance of definite value as a supplement to the capital he 
+has already invested. He receives it in the form of money; hence, not merely money, but also 
+money-capital. 
+
+If, on the other hand, he receives the advance against securities, etc., then it is an advance in the sense of 
+money paid to him on condition that he pay it back. But it is not an advance of capital. For the securities 
+also represent capital, and a larger amount at that than the advance. The recipient therefore receives less 
+capital-value than he deposits as security; this represents for him no acquisition of additional capital. He 
+does not enter into the transaction because he needs capital-he has that in his securities-but because he 
+needs money. Here we, therefore, have an advance of money, not of capital. 
+
+If the loan is granted by discounting bills, then even the form of an advance disappears. Then it is purely 
+a matter of buying and selling. The bill passes by endorsement into the possession of the bank, while the 
+money passes into the possession of the client. There is no question of any return payment on his part. If 
+the client buys hard cash with a bill of exchange or some similar instrument of credit, it is no more and 
+no less an advance than were he to buy cash money with his other commodities, such as cotton, iron, or 
+corn. Still less can this be called an advance of capital. Every purchase and sale between one merchant 
+and another is a transfer of capital. But an advance of capital occurs only when the transfer of capital is 
+not reciprocal, but unilateral and for a period of time. An advance of capital through discount can, 
+therefore, only occur when a bill is a speculative one, which does not represent any sold commodities, 
+and no banker will take such a bill if he is aware of its nature. In the regular discounting business the 
+bank client does not, therefore, receive an advance, either of capital or of money. What he receives is 
+money for sold commodities. 
+
+The cases in which the customer demands and receives capital from a bank are thus clearly distinguished 
+from those, in which he merely receives an advance of money, or buys money from the bank. And since 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 26 
+
+least of all Mr. Loyd-Overstone ever advanced his funds without collateral except on the rarest occasions 
+(he was the banker of my firm in Manchester), it is likewise evident that his lyric descriptions of the great 
+quantities of capital loaned by generous bankers to manufacturers in need of capital are gross inventions. 
+
+By the way, in Chapter XXXII Marx says essentially the same thing: "The demand for means of payment 
+is a mere demand for convertibility into money, so far as merchants and producers have good securities to 
+offer; it is a demand for money-capital whenever there is no collateral, so that an advance of means of 
+payment gives them not only the form of money but also the equivalent they lack, whatever its form, with 
+which to make payment." — And again in Chapter XXXIII: "Under a developed system of credit, with the 
+money concentrated in the hands of bankers, it is they, at least nominally, who advance it. This advance 
+refers only to money in circulation. It is an advance of circulation, not an advance of capitals which it 
+circulates." Mr. Chapman, who should know, likewise corroborates this conception of the discounting 
+business: B. C. 1857: "The banker has the bill, the banker has bought the bill. " Evid. Question 5139. 
+
+We shall, however, return to this subject in Chapter XXVIII. — F. E.] 
+
+"3744. Will you be good enough to describe what you actually mean by the term 'capital'?" - 
+(Overstone:) "Capital consists of various commodities, by means of which trade is carried on; there is 
+fixed capital and there is circulating capital. Your ships, your docks, your wharves... are fixed capital; 
+your provisions, your clothes, etc., are circulating capital." 
+
+"3745. Is the country oppressed under a drain of bullion? — Not in the rational sense of the word." (Then 
+comes the old Ricardian theory of money.)... "In the natural state of things the money of the world is 
+distributed amongst the different countries of the world in certain proportions, those proportions being 
+such that under that distribution (of money) the intercourse between any one country and all the other 
+countries of the world jointly will be an intercourse of barter; but disturbing circumstances will arise to 
+affect that distribution, and when those arise, a certain portion of the money of any given country passes 
+to other countries." — "3746. Your Lordship now uses the term 'money.' I understood you before to say 
+that it was a loss of capital. — That what was a loss of capital?" — "3747. The export of bullion? — No, I 
+did not say so. If you treat bullion as capital, no doubt it is a loss of capital; it is parting with a certain 
+proportion of those precious metals which constitute the money of the world." — "3748. 1 understood 
+Your Lordship to say that an alteration in the rate of discount was a mere sign of an alteration in the 
+value of capital? — I did." — "3749. And that the rate of discount generally alters with the state of the 
+store of bullion in the Bank of England? — Yes, but I have already stated that the fluctuations in the rate 
+of interest, which arise from an alteration in the quantity of money" (what he therefore means here is the 
+quantity of actually existing gold) "in a country, are very small." 
+
+"3750. Then, does Your Lordship mean that there is a less capital than there was, when there is a more 
+continuous yet temporary increase in the rate of discount than usual? — Less, in one sense of the word. 
+The proportion between capital and the demand for it is altered; it may be by an increased demand, not 
+by a diminution of the quantity of capital." (But a moment ago it was capital = money or gold, and a little 
+before that he had explained the rise in interest rate by a high rate of profit, due to an expansion rather 
+than a contraction of business or capital.) "3751. What is the capital which you particularly allude to? — 
+That depends entirely upon what the capital is which each person wants. It is the capital which the 
+country has at its command for conducting its business, and when that business is doubled, there must be 
+a great increase in the demand for the capital with which it is to be carried on." (This shrewd banker 
+doubles first the business activity and then the demand for capital with which it is to be doubled. All he 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 26 
+
+sees is his client, who asks Mr. Loyd for more capital by which to double the volume of his business.) — 
+"Capital is like any other commodity" (but according to Mr. Loyd capital is nothing but the totality of 
+commodities), "it will vary in its price" (hence, commodities change their price twice, one time as 
+commodities and the second as capital), "according to the supply and demand." 
+
+"3752. The changes in the rate of discount are generally connected with the changes in the amount of 
+gold which there is in the coffers of the Bank. Is it that capital to which Your Lordship refers? — No." — 
+"3753. Can Your Lordship point to any instance in which there has been a large store of capital in the 
+Bank of England connected with a high rate of discount? — The Bank of England is not a place for the 
+deposit of capital, it is a place for the deposit of money." — "3754. Your Lordship has stated that the rate 
+of interest depends upon the amount of capital; will you be kind enough to state what capital you mean, 
+and whether you can point to any instance in which there has been a large store of bullion in the Bank 
+and at the same time a high rate of interest? — It is very probable (aha!) that the accumulation of bullion 
+in the Bank may be coincident with a low rate of interest, because a period in which there is a diminished 
+demand for capital" (namely, money-capital; the period to which reference is made here, 1844 and 1845, 
+was a period of prosperity) "is a period, during which, of course, the means or instrument through which 
+you command capital may accumulate." — "3755. Then you think that there is no connection between the 
+rate of discount and the amount of bullion in the coffers of the Bank? — There may be a connection, but 
+it. is not a connection of principle" (his Bank Act of 1844, however, made it a principle of the Bank of 
+England to regulate the interest rate by the quantity of bullion ill its possession), "there may be a 
+coincidence of time." — "3758. Do I rightly understand you to say, that, the difficulty of merchants in this 
+country, under a state of pressure, in consequence of a high rate of discount, is in getting capital, and not 
+in getting money? — You are putting two things together which I do not join in that form; their difficulty 
+is in getting capital, and their difficulty also is in getting money... The difficulty of getting money and the 
+difficulty of getting capital is the same difficulty taken in two successive stages of its progress." — Here 
+the fish is caught in the net again. The first difficulty is to discount a bill of exchange, or to obtain a loan 
+against the security of commodities. It is the difficulty of converting capital, or a commercial token of 
+capital into money. And this difficulty is manifested, among other things, in a high rate of interest. But as 
+soon as the money is obtained, what is the second difficulty? Does anyone ever find any difficulty in 
+getting rid of his money when it is merely a matter of paying? And if it is a matter of buying, has anyone 
+ever had any difficulty in purchasing during times of crisis? And, for the sake of argument, should this 
+refer to a specific dearth in corn, cotton, etc., this difficulty could only appear in the price of these 
+commodities, not in the value of money-capital, i.e., not in the rate of interest; and this difficulty is 
+overcome, in the final analysis, by the fact that our man now has the money to buy them." 
+
+"3760. But a higher rate of discount is an increased difficulty of getting money? — It is an increased 
+difficulty of getting money, but it is not because you want to have the money; it is only the form" (and 
+this form brings profit into the banker's pocket) "in which the increased difficulty of getting capital 
+presents itself according to the complicated relations of a civilised state." 
+
+"3763. (Overstone's reply:) The banker is the go-between who receives deposits on the one side, and on 
+the other applies those deposits, entrusting them, in the form of capital, to the hands of persons, who, 
+etc." 
+
+At last we have what he means by capital. He converts money into capital by "entrusting" it, less 
+euphemistically, by loaning it at interest. 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 26 
+
+After Mr. Overstone has stated that a change in the rate of discount is not essentially connected with a 
+change in quantity of the gold reserve in a bank, or in the quantity of available money, but that there is at 
+best only a coincidence in time, he repeats: 
+
+"3805. When the money in the country is diminished by a drain, its value increases, and the Bank of 
+England must conform to that alteration in the value of money " (hence, the value of money as capital; in 
+other words, the rate of interest, for the value of money as money, compared with commodities, remains 
+the same), "which is meant by the technical term of raising the rate of interest." 
+
+"3819. 1 never confound those two." — Meaning money and capital, and for the simple reason that he 
+never differentiated between them. 
+
+"3834. The very large sum, which had to be paid" (for corn in 4847), "which was in point of fact capital, 
+for the supply of the necessary provisions of the country." 
+
+"3844. The variations in the rate of discount have no doubt a very close relation to the state of the reserve 
+" (of the Bank of England), "because the state of the reserve is the indicator of the increase or the 
+decrease of the quantity of money in the country; and in proportion as the money in the country increases 
+or decreases, the value of that money will increase or decrease, and the bank-rate of discount will 
+conform to that change." — Thus, Overstone admits here what he emphatically denied in No. 3755. — 
+"3842. There is an intimate connection between them." Meaning the quantity of bullion in the issue 
+department, on the one hand, and the reserve of notes in the banking department, on the other. Here he 
+explains the change in the rate of interest by the change in the quantity of money. But this statement is 
+wrong. The reserve may shrink because the circulating money in the country increases. This is the case 
+when the public takes more notes and the hoard of metal does not decrease. But in such case the interest 
+rate rises, because then the banking capital of the Bank of England is limited by the Act of 1844. But he 
+dare not mention this, because due to this law the two departments have nothing to do with one another. 
+
+"3859. A high rate of profit will always create a great demand for capital; a great demand for capital will 
+raise the value of it. " — Here, at last, we have the connection between a high rate of profit and a demand 
+for capital as Overstone conceives it. Now, a high rate of profit prevailed in, for example, 1844-45 in the 
+cotton industry, because raw cotton was cheap, and remained so, whereas the demand for cotton goods 
+was strong. The value of capital (and in an earlier Statement Overstone calls capital that which everyone 
+needs in his business), in this case therefore the value of raw cotton, was not increased for the 
+manufacturer... The high rate of profit may have induced some cotton manufacturer to obtain money on 
+credit for the purpose of expanding his business. Thereby his demand rose for money-capital, but for 
+nothing else. 
+
+"3889. Bullion may or may not be money, just as paper may or may not be a bank-note." 
+
+"3896. Do I correctly understand Your Lordship that you give up the argument, which you used In 1840, 
+that the fluctuations in the notes out of the Bank of England ought to conform to the fluctuations in the 
+amount of bullion? — I give it up so far as this... that now with the means of information which we 
+possess, the notes out of the Bank of England must have added to them the notes which are in the 
+banking reserve of the Bank of England." — This is superlative. The arbitrary provision that the Bank 
+may make out as many paper notes as it has gold in the treasury and 14 million more, implies, of course, 
+that its issue of notes fluctuates with the fluctuations of the gold reserve. But since the present "means of 
+information which we possess" clearly showed that the mass of notes, which the Bank can thus 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 26 
+
+manufacture (and which the issue department transfers to the banking department) — that this circulation 
+between the two departments of the Bank of England, fluctuating with the fluctuations of the gold 
+reserve, does not deter-mine the fluctuations in the circulation of bank-notes outside the Bank of 
+England, then the latter — the real circulation -- becomes a matter of indifference to the bank 
+administration, and the circulation between the two departments of the Bank, whose difference from the 
+real circulation is mirrored in the reserve, alone becomes decisive. To the outside world this internal 
+circulation is significant only because the reserve indicates how close the Bank is approaching the legal 
+maximum of its note issue, and how much its clients can still receive from the banking department. 
+
+The following is a brilliant example of Overstone's mala fides: 
+
+"4243. Does the quantity of capital, do you think, oscillate from month to month to such a degree as to 
+alter its value in the way exhibited of late years in the oscillations in the rate of discount? — The relation 
+between the demand and the supply of capital may undoubtedly fluctuate even within short periods... If 
+France tomorrow put out a notice that she wishes to borrow a very large loan, there is no doubt that it 
+would immediately cause a great alteration in the value of money, that is to say, in the value of capital, in 
+this country. " 
+
+"4245. If France announces, that she wants suddenly, for any purpose, 30 million's worth of commodities 
+there will be a great demand for capital, to use the more scientific and the simpler term." 
+
+"4246. The capital, which France would wish to buy with her loan, is one thing, and the money with 
+which she buys it is another, is it the money, which alters in value, or not? — We seem to be reviving the 
+old question, which I think is more fit for the chamber of a student than for this committee room." — And 
+with this he retires, but not into the chamber of a student. [2J 
+
+FOOTNOTES 
+
+T 1 1 In other words, formerly they first fixed the dividend, and then deducted the income tax as the 
+dividend was paid to the individual stockholder; after 1844, however, the Bank first paid the income tax 
+on its total profit, and then p aid the dividend "free of income tax." The same nominal percentages are, 
+therefore, higher in the latter case by the amount of the tax. -- F. E. 
+
+\2] More on Overstone's confusion of terms in matters concerning capital at the close of Chapter XXXII. 
+-- [F.E.] 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 27 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch26.htm (14 of 14) [23/08/2000 16:02:55] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 27 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+PartV 
+
+DIVISION OF PROFIT INTO INTEREST AND PROFIT 
+
+OF ENTERPRISE. 
+
+INTEREST-BEARING CAPITAL 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 27 
+
+
+
+The Role of Credit in Capitalist Production 
+
+
+
+The general remarks, which the credit system so far elicited from us, were the following: 
+
+I. Its necessary development to effect the equalisation of the rate of profit, or the movements of this 
+equalisation, upon which the entire capitalist production rests. 
+
+II. Reduction of the costs of circulation. 
+
+1) One of the principal costs of circulation is money itself, being value in itself. It is economised through 
+credit in three ways. 
+
+A. By dropping away entirely in a great many transactions. 
+
+B. By the accelerated circulation of the circulating medium.]!} This corresponds in part with what is to 
+be said under 2). On the one hand, the acceleration is technical; i.e., with the same magnitude and 
+number of actual turnovers of commodities for consumption, a smaller quantity of money or money 
+tokens performs the same service. This is bound up with the technique of banking. On the other hand, 
+credit accelerates the velocity of the metamorphoses of commodities and thereby the velocity of money 
+circulation. 
+
+C. Substitution of paper for gold money. 
+
+2) Acceleration, by means of credit, of the individual phases of circulation or of the metamorphosis of 
+commodities, later the metamorphosis of capital, and with it an acceleration of the process of 
+reproduction in general. (On the other hand, credit helps to keep the acts of buying and selling longer 
+apart and serves thereby as a basis for speculation.) Contraction of reserve funds, which may be viewed 
+in two ways: as a reduction of the circulating medium, on the one hand, and, on the other, as a reduction 
+of that part of capital which must always exist in the form of money. \2] 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 27 
+
+III. Formation of stock companies. Thereby: 
+
+1) An enormous expansion of the scale of production and of enterprises, that was impossible for 
+individual capitals. At the same time, enterprises that were formerly government enterprises, become 
+public. 
+
+2) The capital, which in itself rests on a social mode of production and presupposes a social 
+concentration of means of production and labour-power, is here directly endowed with the form of social 
+capital (capital of directly associated individuals) as distinct from private capital, and its undertakings 
+assume the form of social undertakings as distinct from private undertakings. It is the abolition of capital 
+as private property within the framework of capitalist production itself. 
+
+3) Transformation of the actually functioning capitalist into a mere manager, administrator of other 
+people's capital, and of the owner of capital into a mere owner, a mere money-capitalist. Even if the 
+dividends which they receive include the interest and the profit of enterprise, i.e., the total profit (for the 
+salary of the manager is, or should be, simply the wage of a specific type of skilled labour, whose price is 
+regulated in the labour-market like that of any other labour), this total profit is henceforth received only 
+in the form of interest, i.e., as mere compensation for owning capital that now is entirely divorced from 
+the function in the actual process of reproduction, just as this function in the person of the manager is 
+divorced from ownership of capital. Profit thus appears (no longer only that portion of it, the interest, 
+which derives its justification from the profit of the borrower) as a mere appropriation of the 
+surplus-labour of others, arising from the conversion of means of production into capital, i.e., from their 
+alienation vis-a-vis the actual producer, from their antithesis as another's property to every individual 
+actually at work in production, from manager down to the last day-labourer. In stock companies the 
+function is divorced from capital ownership, hence also labour is entirely divorced from ownership of 
+means of production and surplus-labour. This result of the ultimate development of capitalist production 
+is a necessary transitional phase towards the reconversion of capital into the property of producers, 
+although no longer as the private property of the individual producers, but rather as the property of 
+associated producers, as outright social property. On the other hand, the stock company is a transition 
+toward the conversion of all functions in the reproduction process which still remain linked with 
+capitalist property, into mere functions of associated producers, into social functions. 
+
+Before we go any further, there is still the following economically important fact to be noted: Since profit 
+here assumes the pure form of interest, undertakings of this sort are still possible if they yield bare 
+interest, and this is one of the causes, stemming the fall of the general rate of profit, since such 
+undertakings, in which the ratio of constant capital to the variable is so enormous, do not necessarily 
+enter into the equalisation of the general rate of profit. 
+
+[Since Marx wrote the above, new forms of industrial enterprises have developed, as we know, 
+representing the second and third degree of stock companies. The daily growing speed with which 
+production may be enlarged in all fields of large-scale industry today, is offset by the ever-greater 
+slowness with which the market for these increased products expands. What the former turns out in 
+months, can scarcely be absorbed by the latter in years. Add to this the protective tariff policy, by which 
+every industrial country shuts itself off from all others, particularly from England, and also artificially 
+increases domestic production capacity. The results are a general chronic over-production, depressed 
+prices, falling and even wholly disappearing profits; in short, the old boasted freedom of competition has 
+reached the end of its tether and must itself announce its obvious, scandalous bankruptcy. And in every 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 27 
+
+country this is taking place through the big industrialists of a certain branch joining in a cartel for the 
+regulation of production. A committee fixes the quantity to be produced by each establishment and is the 
+final authority for distributing the incoming orders. Occasionally even international cartels were 
+established, as between the English and German iron industries. But even this form of association in 
+production did not suffice. The antagonism of interests between the individual firms broke through it 
+only too often, restoring competition. This led in some branches, where the scale of production 
+permitted, to the concentration of the entire production of that branch of industry in one big joint- stock 
+company under single management. This has been repeatedly effected in America; in Europe the biggest 
+example so far is the United Alkali Trust, which has brought all British alkali production into the hands 
+of a single business firm. The former owners of the more than thirty individual plants have received 
+shares for the appraised value of their entire establishments, totalling about £5 million, which represent 
+the fixed capital of the trust. The technical management remains in the same hands as before, but 
+business control is concentrated in the hands of the general management. The floating capital, totalling 
+about £1 million, was offered to the public for subscription. The total capital is, therefore, £6 million. 
+Thus, in this branch, which forms the basis of the whole chemical industry, competition has been 
+replaced by monopoly in England, and the road has been paved, most gratifyingly, for future 
+expropriation by the whole of society, the nation. — F.E.] 
+
+This is the abolition of the capitalist mode of production within the capitalist mode of production itself, 
+and hence a self-dissolving contradiction, which prima facie represents a mere phase of transition to a 
+new form of production. It manifests itself as such a contradiction in its effects. It establishes a monopoly 
+in certain spheres and thereby requires state interference. It reproduces a new financial aristocracy, a new 
+variety of parasites in the shape of promoters, speculators and simply nominal directors; a whole system 
+of swindling and cheating by means of corporation promotion, stock issuance, and stock speculation. It is 
+private production without the control of private property. 
+
+IV. Aside from the stock-company business, which represents the abolition of capitalist private industry 
+on the basis of the capitalist system itself and destroys private industry as it expands and invades new 
+spheres of production, credit offers to the individual capitalist; or to one who is regarded a capitalist, 
+absolute control within certain limits over the capital and property of others, and thereby over the labour 
+of others. [3] The control over social capital, not the individual capital of his own, gives him control of 
+social labour. The capital itself, which a man really owns or is supposed to own in the opinion of the 
+public, becomes purely a basis for the superstructure of credit. This is particularly true of wholesale 
+commerce, through which the greatest portion of the social product passes. All standards of 
+measurement, all excuses more or less still justified under capitalist production, disappear here. What the 
+speculating wholesale merchant risks is social property, not his own. Equally sordid becomes the phrase 
+relating the origin of capital to savings, for what he demands is that others should save for him. Just as all 
+France recently saved up one and a half billion francs for the Panama Canal swindlers. In fact, a 
+description of the entire Panama swindle is here correctly anticipated, fully twenty years before it 
+occurred. — F.E.] The other phrase concerning abstention is squarely refuted by his luxury, which is now 
+itself a means of credit. Conceptions which have some meaning on a less developed stage of capitalist 
+production, become quite meaningless here. Success and failure both lead here to a centralisation of 
+capital, and thus to expropriation on the most enormous scale. Expropriation extends here from the direct 
+producers to the smaller and the medium-sized capitalists themselves. It is the point of departure for the 
+capitalist mode of production; its accomplishment is the goal of this production. In the last instance, it 
+aims at the expropriation of the means of production from all individuals. With the development of social 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 27 
+
+production the means of production cease to be means of private production and products of private 
+production, and can thereafter be only means of production in the hands of associated producers, i.e., the 
+latter's social property, much as they are their social products. However, this expropriation appears 
+within the capitalist system in a contradictory form, as appropriation of social property by a few; and 
+credit lends the latter more and more the aspect of pure adventurers. Since property here exists in the 
+form of stock, its movement and transfer become purely a result of gambling on the stock exchange, 
+where the little fish are swallowed by the sharks and the lambs by the stock-exchange wolves, There is 
+antagonism against the old form in the stock companies, in which social means of production appear as 
+private property; but the conversion to the form of stock still remains ensnared in the trammels of 
+capitalism; hence, instead of overcoming the antithesis between the character of wealth as social and as 
+private wealth, the stock companies merely develop it in a new form. 
+
+The co-operative factories of the labourers themselves represent within the old form the first sprouts of 
+the new, although they naturally reproduce, and must reproduce, everywhere in their actual organisation 
+all the shortcomings of the prevailing system. But the antithesis between capital and labour is overcome 
+within them, if at first only by way of making the associated labourers into their own capitalist, i.e., by 
+enabling them to use the means of production for the employment of their own labour. They show how a 
+new mode of production naturally grows out of an old one, when the development of the material forces 
+of production and of the corresponding forms of social production have reached a particular stage. 
+Without the factory system arising out of the capitalist mode of production there could have been no 
+co-operative factories. Nor could these have developed without the credit system arising out of the same 
+mode of production. The credit system is not only the principal basis for the gradual transformation of 
+capitalist private enterprises, into capitalist stock companies, but equally offers the means for the gradual 
+extension of co-operative enterprises on a more or less national scale. The capitalist stock companies, as 
+much as the co-operative factories, should be considered as transitional forms from the capitalist mode of 
+production to the associated one, with the only distinction that the antagonism is resolved negatively in 
+the one and positively in the other. 
+
+So far we have considered the development of the credit system — and the implicit latent abolition of 
+capitalist property — mainly with reference to industrial capital. In the following chapters we shall 
+consider credit with reference to interest-bearing capital as such, and to its effect on this capital, and the 
+form it thereby assumes; and there are generally a few more specifically economic remarks still to be 
+made. 
+
+But first this: 
+
+The credit system appears as the main lever of over-production and over-speculation in commerce solely 
+because the reproduction process, which is elastic by nature, is here forced to its extreme limits, and is so 
+forced because a large part of the social capital is employed by people who do not own it and who 
+consequently tackle things quite differently than the owner, who anxiously weighs the limitations of his 
+private capital in so far as he handles it himself. This simply demonstrates the fact that the self-expansion 
+of capital based on the contradictory nature of capitalist production permits an actual free development 
+only up to a certain point, so that in fact it constitutes an immanent fetter and barrier to production, which 
+are continually broken through by the credit system. [4] Hence, the credit system accelerates the material 
+development of the productive forces and the establishment of the world-market. It is the historical 
+mission of the capitalist system of production to raise these material foundations of the new mode of 
+production to a certain degree of perfection. At the same time credit accelerates the violent eruptions of 
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 27 
+
+this contradiction — crises — and thereby the elements of disintegration of the old mode of production. 
+
+The two characteristics immanent in the credit system are, on the one hand, to develop the incentive of 
+capitalist production, enrichment through exploitation of the labour of others, to the purest and most 
+colossal form of gambling and swindling, and to reduce more and more the number of the few who 
+exploit the social wealth; on the other hand, to constitute the form of transition to a new mode of 
+production. It is this ambiguous nature, which endows the principal spokesmen of credit from Law to 
+Isaac Pereire with the pleasant character mixture of swindler and prophet. 
+
+FOOTNOTES 
+
+T 1 1 "The average of notes in circulation during the year was, in 1812, 106,538,000 francs; in 1818, 
+101,205,000 francs; whereas the movement of the currency, or the annual aggregate of disbursements 
+and upon all accounts, was, in 1812, 2,837,712,000 francs; in 1818, 9,665,03 francs. The activity of the 
+currency in France, therefore, during the year 1818, as compared with its activity in 1812, was in the 
+proportion of three to one. The great regulator of the velocity of circulation is credit... This explains, why 
+a severe pressure upon the money-market is generally coincident with a full circulation." {The Currency 
+Theory Reviewed, etc., p. 65) — "Between September 1833 and September 1843 nearly 300 banks were 
+added to the various issuers of notes throughout the United Kingdom; the result was a reduction in the 
+circulation to the extent of two million and a half; it was £36,035,244 at the close of September 1833, 
+and £33,518,554 at the close of September 1843." (L. c, p. 53) — "The prodigious activity of Scottish 
+circulation enables it, with £100, to effect the same quantity of monetary transactions, which in England 
+it requires £420 to accomplish." (L. c, p. 55. This last refers only to the technical side of the operation.) 
+
+\2] Before the establishment of the banks... the amount of capital withdrawn for the purposes of currency 
+was greater, at all times, than the actual circulation of commodities required." {Economist, 1845, p. 238.) 
+
+[3J See, for instance, in the Times the list of business bankruptcies in a crisis year such as 1857 and 
+compare the private property of those bankrupt with the amount of their debts. "The truth is that the 
+power of purchase by persons having capital and credit is much beyond anything that those who are 
+unacquainted practically with speculative markets have any idea of." (Tooke, Inquiry into the Currency 
+Principle, p. 79.) "A person having the reputation of capital enough for his regular business, and 
+enjoying good credit in his trade, if he takes a sanguine view of the prospect of a rise of price of the 
+article in which he deals, and is favoured by circumstances in the outset and progress of his speculation, 
+may effect purchases to an extent perfectly enormous compared with his capital" {Ibid., p. 136). 
+"Merchants, manufacturers, etc., carry on operations much beyond those which the use of their own 
+capital alone would enable them to do... Capital Is rather the foundation upon which a good credit is built 
+than the limit of the transactions of any commercial establishment." {Economist, 1847, p. 333.) 
+
+[4J Th. Chalmers [On Political Economy, etc., Glasgow, 1832. — Ed.]. 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 28 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch27.htm (5 of 6) [23/08/2000 16:02:58] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 27 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch27.htm (6 of 6) [23/08/2000 16:02:58] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 28 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+PartV 
+
+DIVISION OF PROFIT INTO INTEREST AND PROFIT 
+
+OF ENTERPRISE. 
+
+INTEREST-BEARING CAPITAL 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 28 
+
+Medium of Circulation and Capital; 
+Views of Tooke and Fullarton 
+
+
+
+The distinction between currency and capital, as Tooke, Wilson, and others draw it, whereby the 
+differences between medium of circulation as money, as money-capital generally, and as interest-bearing 
+capital (moneyed capital in the English sense) are thrown together pell-mell, comes down to two 
+things. £jj 
+
+Currency circulates on the one hand as coin (money), so far as it promotes the expenditure of revenue, 
+hence the traffic between the individual consumers and the retail merchants, to which category belong all 
+merchants who sell to the consumers — to the individual consumers as distinct from productive 
+consumers or producers. Here money circulates in the function of coin, although it continually replaces 
+capital. A certain portion of money in a particular country is continually devoted to this function, 
+although this portion consists of perpetually changing individual coins. In so far as money promotes the 
+transfer of capital, however, either as a means of purchase (medium of circulation) or as a means of 
+payment, it is capital. It is, therefore, neither its function as a means of purchase, nor that as a means of 
+payment, which distinguishes it from coin, for it may also act as a means of purchase between one dealer 
+and another so far as they buy from one another in hard cash, and also as a means of payment between 
+dealer and consumer so far as credit is given and the revenue consumed before it is paid. The difference 
+is, therefore, that in the second case this money not only replaces the capital for one side, the seller, but is 
+expended, advanced., by the other side, the buyer, as capital. The difference, then, is in fact that between 
+the money -form of revenue and the money -form of capital, but not that between currency and capital, for 
+a certain quantity of money circulates in the transactions between dealers as well as in the transactions 
+between consumers and dealers.. It is, therefore, equally currency in both functions. Tooke's conception 
+introduces confusion into this question in various ways: 
+
+1) By confusing the functional distinctions; 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 28 
+
+2) By introducing the question of the quantity of money circulating together in both functions; 
+
+3) By introducing the question of the relative proportions of the quantities of currency circulating in the 
+two functions and thus in the two spheres of the process of reproduction. 
+
+Ad 1) Confusing the functional distinctions that money in one form is currency, and capital in the other. 
+In so far as money serves in one or another function, be it to realise revenue or transfer capital, it 
+functions in buying and selling, or in paying, as a means of purchase or a means of payment, and, in the 
+wider sense of the word, as currency. The further purpose which it has in the calculations of its spender 
+or recipient, of being capital or revenue for him, alters absolutely nothing, and this is doubly 
+demonstrated. Although the kinds of money circulating in the two spheres are different, the same piece of 
+money, for instance a five-pound note, passes from one sphere into the other and alternately performs 
+both functions; which is inevitable, if only because the retail merchant can give his capital the form of 
+money only in the shape of the coin which he receives from his customers. It may be assumed that the 
+actual small change has its circulation centre of gravity in the domain of retail trade; the retail dealer 
+needs it continually to make change and receives it back continually in payment from his customers. But 
+he also receives money, i.e., coin, in that metal which serves as a standard of value, hence in England 
+one-pound coins, or even bank-notes, particularly notes of small denominations, such as five-and 
+ten-pound notes. These gold coins and notes, with whatever small change he has to spare, are deposited 
+by the retail dealer every day, or every week, in his bank, and he pays for his purchases by drawing 
+cheques on his bank deposit. But the same gold coins and hank-notes are just as steadily withdrawn from 
+the bank, directly or indirectly (for instance, small change by manufacturers for the payment of wages), 
+as the money-form of its revenue by the entire public in its capacity of consumer, and flow continually 
+back to the retail dealers, for whom they thus again realise a portion of their capital, but at the same time 
+also a portion of their revenue. This last circumstance is important, and is wholly overlooked by Tooke. 
+Only where money is expended as money-capital, early in the reproduction process (Book II, Part 1), 
+does capital- value exist purely as such. For the produced commodities contain not merely capital, but 
+also surplus- value; they are not only capital in them-selves, but already capital realised as capital, capital 
+with the source of revenue incorporated in it. What the retail dealer gives away for the money returning 
+to him, his commodities, therefore, is for him capital plus profit, capital plus revenue. 
+
+Furthermore, in returning to the retailer, circulating money restores the money-form of his capital. 
+
+To reduce the difference between circulation as circulation of revenue and circulation of capital into a 
+difference between currency and capital is, therefore, altogether wrong. This mode of expression is in 
+Tooke's case due to his simply assuming the standpoint of a banker issuing his own bank-notes. Those of 
+his notes which are continually in the public's hands (even if consisting of ever different notes) and 
+serving as currency cost him nothing, save the cost of the paper and the printing. They are circulating 
+certificates of indebtedness (bills of exchange) made out in his own name, but they bring him money and 
+thus serve as a means of expanding his capital. They differ from his capital, however, whether it be his 
+own or borrowed. That is why there is a special distinction for him between currency and capital, which, 
+however, has nothing to do with the definition of these terms as such, least of all with that made by 
+Tooke. 
+
+The distinct attribute — whether it serves as the money-form of revenue or of capital — changes nothing 
+in the character of money as a medium of circulation; it retains this character no matter which of the two 
+functions it performs. True, money serves more as an actual medium of circulation (coin, means of 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 28 
+
+purchase) when acting as the money-form of revenue, due to the dispersion of purchases and sales, and 
+because the majority of disbursers of revenue, the labourers, can buy relatively little on credit; whereas in 
+the traffic of the business world, where the medium of circulation is the money-form of capital, money 
+serves mainly as a means of payment, partly on account of the concentration, and partly on account of the 
+prevailing credit system. But the distinction between money as a means of payment and money as a 
+means of purchase (means of circulation) is a distinction that refers to the money itself. It is not a 
+distinction between money and capital. More copper and silver circulate in the retail business, and more 
+gold in the wholesale business. Yet the distinction between silver and copper on the one hand, and gold 
+on the other, is not the distinction between circulation and capital. 
+
+Ad 2) Introducing the question of the quantity of money circulating together in both functions: So far as 
+money circulates, be it as a means of purchase or as a means of payment — no matter in which of the two 
+spheres and independently of its function of realising revenue or capital — the quantity of its circulating 
+mass comes under the laws developed previously in discussing the simple circulation of commodities 
+(Vol. I, Ch. Ill, 2, b). The velocity of circulation, hence the number of repetitions of the same function as 
+means of purchase and means of payment by the same pieces of money in a given term, the mass of 
+simultaneous purchases and sales, or payments, the sum of the prices of the circulating commodities, and 
+finally the balances of payments to be settled in the same period, determine in either case the mass of 
+circulating money, of currency. Whether money so employed represents capital or revenue for the payer 
+or receiver, is immaterial, and in no way alters the matter. Its mass is simply determined by its function 
+as a medium of purchase and payment. 
+
+Ad 3) On the question of the relative proportions of the amounts of currency circulating in both functions 
+and thus in both spheres of the reproduction process. Both spheres of circulation are connected internally, 
+for, on the one hand, the mass of revenues to be spent expresses the volume of consumption, and, on the 
+other, the magnitude of the masses of capital circulating in production and commerce expresses the 
+volume and velocity of the reproduction process. Nevertheless, the same circumstances have a different 
+effect, working even in opposite directions, upon the quantities of money circulating in both functions or 
+spheres, or on the amount of currency, as the English put it in banking parlance. And this gives new 
+cause for Tooke's vulgar distinction between capital and currency. The fact that the gentlemen of the 
+Currency Theory confuse two different things is no reason to present them as two different concepts. 
+
+In times of prosperity, intense expansion, acceleration and vigour of the reproduction process, labourers 
+are fully employed. Generally, there is also a rise in wages which makes up in some measure for their fall 
+below average during other periods of the business cycle. At the same time, the revenues of the 
+capitalists grow considerably. Consumption increases generally. Commodity-prices also rise regularly, at 
+least in the various vital branches of business. Consequently, the quantity of circulating money grows at 
+least within definite limits, since the greater velocity of circulation, in turn, sets up certain barriers to the 
+growth of the amount of currency. Since that portion of the social revenue which consists of wages is 
+originally advanced by the industrial capitalist in the form of variable capital, and always in money-form, 
+it requires more money for its circulation in times of prosperity. But we must not count this twice — first 
+as money required for the circulation of variable capital, and then as money required for the circulation 
+of the labourers' revenue. The money paid to the labourers as wages is spent in retail trade and returns 
+about once a week to the banks as the retailers' deposits, after negotiating miscellaneous intermediary 
+transactions in smaller cycles. In times of prosperity the reflux of money proceeds smoothly for the 
+industrial capitalists, and thus the need for money accommodation does not increase because more wages 
+have to be paid and more money is required for the circulation of their variable capital. 
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+The total result is that the mass of circulating media serving the expenditure of revenue grows decidedly 
+in periods of prosperity. 
+
+As concerns the circulation required for the transfer of capital, hence required exclusively between 
+capitalists, a period of brisk business is simultaneously a period of the most elastic and easy credit. The 
+velocity of circulation between capitalist and capitalist is regulated directly by credit, and the mass of 
+circulating medium required to settle payments, and even in cash purchases, decreases accordingly. It 
+may increase in absolute terms, but decreases relatively under all circumstances compared to the 
+expansion of the reproduction process. On the one hand, greater mass payments are settled without the 
+mediation of money; on the other, owing to the vigour of the process, there is a quicker movement of the 
+same amounts of money, both as means of purchase and of payment. The same quantity of money 
+promotes the reflux of a greater number of individual capitals. 
+
+On the whole, the currency of money in such periods appears full, although its Department II (transfer of 
+capital) is, at least relatively, contracted, while its Department I (expenditure of revenue) expands in 
+absolute terms. 
+
+The refluxes express the reconversion of commodity-capital into money, M — C — M', as we have seen in 
+the discussion of the reproduction process, Book II, Part I. Credit renders the reflux in money-form 
+independent of the time of actual reflux both for the industrial capitalist and the merchant. Both of them 
+sell on credit; their commodities are thus alienated before they are reconverted into money for them, 
+hence before they flow back to them in money-form. On the other hand, they buy on credit, and in this 
+way the value of their commodities is reconverted, be it into productive capital or commodity-capital, 
+even before this value has really been transformed into money, i.e., before the commodity-price is due 
+and paid for. In such times of prosperity the reflux passes off smoothly and easily. The retailer securely 
+pays the wholesaler, the wholesaler pays the manufacturer, the manufacturer pays the importer of raw 
+materials, etc. The appearance of rapid and reliable refluxes always keeps up for a longer period after 
+they are over In reality by virtue of the credit that is under way, since credit refluxes take the place of the 
+real ones. The banks scent danger as soon as their clients deposit more bills of exchange than money. See 
+the testimony of the Liverpool bank director, p. 398. [Present edition: Ch. XXV. — Ed.] 
+
+To insert what I have noted earlier: "In periods of predominant credit, the velocity of the circulation of 
+money increases faster than commodity-prices, whereas in times of declining credit commodity-prices 
+drop slower than the velocity of circulation." (Zur Kritik der politischen Oekonomie, 1859, S. 83, 84.) 
+
+The reverse is true in a period of crisis. Circulation No. I contracts, prices fall, similarly wages; the 
+number of employed labourers is reduced, the mass of transactions decreases. On the contrary, the need 
+for money accommodation increases in circulation No. II with the contraction of credit. We shall 
+examine this point in greater detail immediately. 
+
+There is no doubt that with the decrease of credit which goes hand in hand with stagnation in the 
+reproduction process, the circulation mass required for No. I, the expenditure of revenue, contracts, while 
+that required for No. II, the transfer of capital, expands. But to what extent this statement coincides with 
+what is maintained by Fullarton and others still remains to he analysed: "A demand for capital on loan 
+and a demand for additional circulation are quite distinct things, and not often found associated." 
+(Fullarton, 1. c, p. 82, title of Chapter 5.) [2J 
+
+In the first place it is evident that in the first of the two cases mentioned above, during times of 
+
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+prosperity, when the mass of the circulating medium must increase, the demand for it increases. But it is 
+likewise evident that, when a manufacturer draws more or less of his deposit out of a bank in gold or 
+bank-notes because he has to expend more capital in the form of money, his demand for capital does not 
+thereby increase. What increases is merely his demand for this particular form in which he expends his 
+capital. The demand refers only to the technical form, in which he throws his capital into circulation. Just 
+as in the case of a different development of the credit system, the same variable capital, for example, or 
+the same quantity of wages, requires a greater mass of means of circulation in one country than in 
+another; in England more than in Scotland, for instance, and in Germany more than in England. Likewise 
+in agriculture, the same capital active in the reproduction process requires different quantities of money 
+in different seasons for the performance of its function. 
+
+But the contrast drawn by Fullarton is not correct. It is by no means the strong demand for loans as he 
+says, which distinguishes the period of depression from that of prosperity, but the ease with which this 
+demand is satisfied in periods of prosperity, and the difficulties which it meets in periods of depression. 
+It is precisely the enormous development of the credit system during a prosperity period, hence also the 
+enormous increase in the demand for loan capital and the readiness with which the supply meets it in 
+such periods, which brings about a shortage of credit during a period of depression. It is not, therefore, 
+the difference in volume of demand for loans which characterises both periods. 
+
+As we have previously remarked, both periods are primarily distinguished by the fact that the demand for 
+currency between consumers and dealers predominates in periods of prosperity, and the demand for 
+currency between capitalists predominates in periods of depression. During a depression the former 
+decreases, and the latter increases. 
+
+What strikes Fullarton and others as decisively important is the phenomenon that in such periods when 
+securities in possession of the Bank of England are on the increase, its circulation of notes decreases, and 
+vice versa. The level of the securities, however, expresses the volume of the pecuniary accommodation, 
+the volume of discounted bills of exchange and of advances made against marketable collateral. Thus 
+Fullarton says in the above passage that the securities in the hands of the Bank of England fluctuate 
+mostly in an opposite direction to its circulation, and this corroborates the view long held by private 
+banks that no bank can increase its issue of bank-notes beyond a certain point determined by the needs of 
+its public; but if a bank wants to make advances beyond this limit, it must make them out of its capital, 
+hence it must either realise on securities or utilise deposits which it would otherwise have invested in 
+securities. This, however, reveals also what Fullarton means by capital. What does capital signify here? 
+That the Bank can no longer make advances with its own bank-notes, or promissory notes, which, of 
+course, cost it nothing. But what does it make advances with in that case? With the sums realised from 
+the sale of securities held in reserve, i.e., government bonds, stocks, and other interest-bearing paper. 
+And what does it get in payment for the sale of such paper? Money-gold or bank-notes, so far as the 
+latter are legal tender, such as those of the Bank of England. What the bank advances, therefore, is under 
+all circumstances money. This money, however, now constitutes a part of its capital. If it advances gold, 
+this is understandable. If it advances notes, then these notes represent capital, because it has given up 
+some actual value for them, such as interest-bearing paper. In the case of private banks the notes secured 
+by them through the sale of securities cannot be anything else, in the main, but Bank of England notes or 
+their own notes, since others would hardly be taken in payment for securities. If it is the Bank of England 
+itself, then its own notes, which it receives in return, cost it capital, that is, interest-bearing paper. 
+Besides, it thereby withdraws its own notes from circulation. Should it reissue these notes, or issue new 
+notes in their stead to the same amount, they now represent capital. And they do so equally well, when 
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+used for advances to capitalists, or when used later, when the demand for such pecuniary accommodation 
+decreases, for reinvestment in securities. In all these cases the term capital is employed only from the 
+banker's point of view, and means that the banker is compelled to loan more than his mere credit. 
+
+As is known, the Bank of England makes all its advances in its own notes. Now, if despite this, as a rule, 
+the bank-note circulation of the Bank decreases in proportion as the discounted bills of exchange and 
+collateral in its hands, and thus its advances increase — what becomes of the notes thrown into 
+circulation? How do they return to the Bank? 
+
+To begin with, if the demand for money accommodation arises from an unfavourable national balance of 
+payments and thereby implies a drain of gold, the matter is very simple. The bills of exchange are 
+discounted in bank-notes. The bank-notes are exchanged for gold by the Bank itself, in its issue 
+department, and this gold is exported. It is as though the Bank paid out gold directly, without the 
+mediation of notes, on discounting bills. Such an increased demand, which may in certain cases be £7 to 
+£10 million, naturally does not add a single five-pound note to the country's domestic circulation. If it is 
+now said that the Bank advances capital, and not currency, this means two things. First, that it does not 
+advance credit, but actual values, a part of its own capital or of capital deposited with it. Secondly, that it 
+does not advance money for inland, but for international circulation, that it advances world-money; and 
+for this purpose money must always exist in its form of a hoard, in its metallic state; in the form in which 
+it is not merely a form of value, but value itself, whose money-form it is. Although this gold now 
+represents capital, both for the Bank and the exporting gold-dealer, i.e., banking or commercial capital, 
+the demand for it is not for capital, but for the absolute form of money-capital. This demand arises 
+precisely at the moment when foreign markets are overcrowded with unsaleable English 
+commodity-capital. What is wanted, therefore, is capital, not as capital, but capital as money, in the form 
+in which money serves as a universal world-market commodity; and this is its original form of precious 
+metal. The drain of gold is not, therefore, as Fullarton, Tooke, etc., claim, "a mere question of capital." 
+Rather, it is a "question of money," even if in a specific function. The fact that it is not a question of 
+inland circulation as the advocates of the Currency Theory maintain, does not prove at all, as Fullarton 
+and others think, that it is merely a question of capital. It is a question of money in the form in which 
+money is an international means of payment. "Whether that capital" (the purchase price for the million of 
+quarters of foreign wheat after a crop failure in the home country) "is transmitted in merchandise or in 
+specie, is a point which in no way affects the nature of the transaction." (Fullarton, 1. c, p. 131.) But it 
+significantly affects the question, whether there is a drain of gold, or not. Capital is transferred in the 
+form of precious metal, because it either cannot be transferred at all, or only at a great loss in the shape of 
+commodities. The fear which the modern banking system has of gold drain exceeds anything ever 
+imagined by the monetary system, which considered precious metals as the only true wealth. Take, for 
+instance, the following evidence of the Governor of the Bank of England, Morris, before the 
+Parliamentary Committee on the crisis of 1847-48: (3846. Question:) "When I spoke of the depreciation 
+of stocks and fixed capital, are you not aware that all property invested in stocks and produce of every 
+description was depreciated in the same way; that raw cotton, raw silk, and unmanufactured wool were 
+sent to the continent at the same depreciated price, and that sugar, coffee and tea were sacrificed as at 
+forced sales? — It was inevitable that the country should make a considerable sacrifice for the purpose of 
+meeting the efflux of bullion which had taken place in consequence of the large importation of food." — 
+"3848. Do not you think it would have been better to trench upon the £8 million lying in the coffers of 
+the Bank, than to have endeavoured to get the gold back again at such a sacrifice? — No, I do not. " - It is 
+gold which here stands for the only true wealth. 
+
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+Fullarton quotes the discovery by Tooke that "with only one or two exceptions, and those admitting of 
+satisfactory explanation, every remarkable fall of exchange, followed by a drain of gold, that has 
+occurred during the last half-century, has been coincident throughout with a comparatively low state of 
+the circulating medium, and vice versa." (Fullarton, p. 121.) This discovery proves that such drains of 
+gold occur generally after a period of animation and speculation, as "the signal of a collapse already 
+commenced an indication of overstocked markets, of a cessation of the foreign demand for our 
+productions, of delayed returns, and, as the necessary sequel of all these, of commercial discredit, 
+manufactories shut up, artisans starving, and a general stagnation of industry and enterprise" (p. 129). 
+This, naturally, is at once the best refutation of the claim of the advocates of the Currency Theory, that "a 
+full circulation drives out bullion and a low circulation attracts it." On the contrary, while the Bank of 
+England generally carries a strong gold reserve during a period of prosperity, this hoard is generally 
+formed during the slack period, which follows after a storm. 
+
+All this sagacity concerning the drain of gold, then, amounts to saying that the demand for international 
+media of circulation and payment differs from the demand for internal media of circulation and payment 
+(and it goes without saying, therefore, that "the existence of a drain does not necessarily imply any 
+diminution of the internal demand for circulation," as Fullarton has it on page 1 12 of his work) and that 
+the export of precious metal and its being thrown into international circulation is not the same as 
+throwing notes or specie into internal circulation. As for the rest, I have shown on a previous occasion 
+[English edition: Vol. 1. — Ed.] that the movements of a hoard concentrated as a reserve fund for 
+international payments have as such nothing to do with the movements of money as a medium of 
+circulation. At any rate, the question, is complicated by the fact that the different functions of a hoard, 
+which I have developed from the nature of money-such as its function as a reserve fund of means of 
+payment to cover due bills in domestic business; the function of a reserve fund of currency; and finally, 
+the function of a reserve fund of world-money-are here attributed to one sole reserve fund. It also follows 
+from this that under certain circumstances a drain of gold from the Bank to the home market may 
+combine with a drain abroad. The question is further complicated however by the fact that this hoard is 
+arbitrarily burdened with the additional function of serving as a fund guaranteeing the convertibility of 
+bank-notes in countries, in which the credit system and credit-money are developed. And in addition to 
+all this comes 1) the concentration of the national reserve fund in one single central bank, and 2) its 
+reduction to the smallest possible minimum. Hence, also, Fullarton's complaint (p. 143): "One cannot 
+contemplate the perfect silence and facility with which variations of the exchange usually pass off in 
+continental countries, compared with the state of feverish disquiet and alarm always produced in England 
+whenever the treasure at the Bank seems to be at all approaching to exhaustion, without being struck with 
+the great advantage in this respect which a metallic currency possesses." 
+
+However, if we now leave aside the drain of gold, how can a bank that issues notes, like the Bank of 
+England, increase the amount of money accommodation granted by it without increasing its issue of 
+bank-notes? 
+
+So far as the bank itself is concerned, all the notes outside its walls, whether circulating or in private 
+hoards, are in circulation, i.e., are out of its hands. Hence, if the bank extends its discounting and 
+money-lending business, its advances on securities, all the bank-notes issued by it for that purpose must 
+return, for otherwise they would increase the volume of circulation, something which is not supposed to 
+happen. This return may take place in two ways. 
+
+First: The bank pays A notes against securities; A uses them to pay for bills of exchange due to B, and B 
+
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+deposits notes once more in the bank. This brings to a close the circulation of these notes, but the loan 
+remains. ("The loan remains, and the currency, if not wanted, finds its way back to the issuer." Fullarton, 
+p. 97.) The notes, which the bank advanced to A, have now returned to it; but it is the creditor of A, or 
+whoever may have been the drawer of the bill discounted by A, and the debtor of B for the amount of 
+value expressed in these notes, and B thus disposes of a corresponding portion of the capital of the bank. 
+
+Secondly: A pays to B, and B himself, or C, to whom he pays the notes, uses these notes to pay bills due 
+to the bank, directly or indirectly. In that case the bank is paid in its own notes. This concludes the 
+transaction (pending A's return payment to the bank). 
+
+To what extent, now, shall the bank's advance to A be regarded as an advance of capital, or as a mere 
+advance of means of payment? \3] 
+
+[This depends on the nature of the loan itself. Three cases must be distinguished. 
+
+First case. — A receives from the bank amounts loaned on his own personal credit, without giving any 
+security for them. In this case he does not merely receive means of payment, but also unquestionably a 
+new capital, which he may employ in his business and realise as an additional capital until the maturity 
+date. 
+
+Second case. — A has given to the bank securities, national bonds, or stocks as collateral, and received 
+for them, say, up to two-thirds of their momentary value as a cash loan. In this case he has received the 
+means of payment he needed, but no additional capital, for he entrusted to the bank a larger capital- value 
+than he received from it. But this larger capital- value was, on the one hand, unavailable for his 
+momentary needs (means of payment), because invested in a particular interest-bearing form; on the 
+other hand, A had his own reasons for not wanting to convert this capital- value directly into means of 
+payment by selling it. His securities served, among other things, as a reserve capital, and he set them in 
+motion as such. The transaction between A and the bank, therefore, consists in a temporary mutual 
+transfer of capital, so that A does not receive any additional capital (quite the contrary!) although he 
+receives the desired means of payment. For the bank, on the other hand, this transaction constitutes a 
+temporary lodgement of money-capital in the form of a loan, a conversion of money-capital from one 
+form into another, and this conversion is precisely the essential function of the banking business. 
+
+Third case. — A had the bank discount a bill of exchange and received its value in cash after the 
+deduction of discount. In this case he sold a non-convertible money-capital to the bank for the amount of 
+value in convertible form. He sold his still running bill for cash money. The bill is now the property of 
+the bank. It does not alter the matter that A as last endorser of the bill is responsible for it to the bank in 
+default of payment. He shares this responsibility with the other endorsers and with the drawer of the bill, 
+all of whom are duly responsible to him. In this case, therefore, we do not have a loan, but only an 
+ordinary purchase and sale. For this reason, A has nothing to pay back to the bank. It reimburses itself by 
+cashing the bill when it becomes due. Here, too, a transfer of capital has taken place between A and the 
+bank, and in exactly the same manner as in the sale and purchase of any other commodity, and for this 
+very reason A did not receive any additional capital. What he needed and received were means of 
+payment, and he received them by having the bank convert one form of his money-capital — his bill — 
+into another — money. 
+
+It is therefore only in the first case that there is any question of a real advance of capital; in the second 
+and third cases, the matter can be so regarded only in the sense that every investment of capital implies 
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+an "advance of capital." In this sense the bank advances money-capital to A; but for A it is money-capital 
+at best in the sense that it is a portion of his capital in general. And lie requires it and uses it not 
+specifically as capital, but rather as specifically a means of payment. Otherwise, every ordinary sale of 
+commodities by which means of payment are secured might be considered as receiving an advance of 
+capital. — F. EJ 
+
+In the case of private banks which issue their own notes we have this difference, that if their notes remain 
+neither in local circulation, nor return to them in the form of deposits, or in payment for due bills of 
+exchange, they fall into the hands of persons who compel the private bank to cash these notes in gold or 
+in notes of the Bank of England. In this event, therefore, its loan in fact; represents an advance of notes 
+of the Bank of England, or, what amounts to the same thing for the private bank, of gold, hence a portion 
+of its bank capital. The same holds good in case the Bank of England itself, or some other bank, which 
+has a fixed legal maximum for its issue of notes, must sell securities to with-draw its own notes from 
+circulation and then issue them once more in the shape of advances; in that case, the bank's own notes 
+represent a portion of its mobilised bank capital. 
+
+Even if the circulation were purely metallic, it would be possible 1) for a drain of gold [Marx evidently 
+refers here to a drain of gold that would, at least partially, go abroad — F. E.] to empty the treasury, and 
+2) since gold would be chiefly wanted by the bank to make payments (in settlement of erstwhile 
+transactions), the advance against collateral could grow considerably, but would flow back to it in the 
+form of deposits or in payment of due bills of exchange; so that, on one side, the total treasure of the 
+bank would decrease with an increase of the securities in its hands, while on the other, it would now be 
+holding the same amount, which it possessed formerly as owner, as debtor of its depositors, and finally 
+the total quantity of currency would decrease. 
+
+Our assumption so far has been that the loans are made in notes, so that they carry with them at least a 
+fleeting, even if instantly disappearing, increase in the issue of notes But this is not necessary. Instead of 
+a paper note, the bank may open a credit account for A, in which case this A, the bank's debtor, becomes 
+its imaginary depositor. He pays his creditors with cheques on the bank, and the recipient of these 
+cheques passes them on to his own banker, who exchanges them for the cheques outstanding against him 
+in the clearing house. In this case no mediation of notes takes place at all, and the entire transaction is 
+confined to the fact that the bank settles its own debt with a cheque drawn on itself, and its actual 
+recompense consists in its claim on A. In this case the bank has loaned a portion of its own bank capital, 
+because its own debt claim, to A. 
+
+In so far as this demand for pecuniary accommodation is a demand for capital, it is so only for 
+money-capital. It is capital only from the standpoint of the banker, namely gold (in the case of gold 
+exports abroad) or notes of the National Bank, which a private bank can obtain only by purchase against 
+an equivalent, and which, therefore, represent capital for it. Or, again, it is a case of interest-bearing 
+papers, government bonds, stocks, etc., which must be sold in order to obtain gold or bank-notes. Such 
+papers, however, if in government bonds, are capital only for the buyer, for whom they represent the 
+purchase price, the capital he invested in them. In themselves they are not capital, but merely debt 
+claims. If mortgages, they are mere titles on future ground-rent. And if they are shares of stock, they are 
+mere titles of ownership, which entitle the holder to a share in future surplus-value. All of these are not 
+real capital. They do not form constituent parts of capital, nor are they values in themselves. By way of 
+similar transactions money belonging to the bank may be transformed into deposits, so that the bank 
+becomes the debtor instead of owner of this money, and holds it under a different title of ownership. 
+
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+However important this may be to the bank, it alters nothing in the mass of reserve capital, or even of 
+money-capital available in a particular country. Capital, therefore, represents here only money-capital, 
+and, if not available in the actual form of money, it represents a mere title on capital. This is very 
+important, since a scarcity of, and pressing demand for, banking capital is confounded with a decrease of 
+actual capital, which conversely is in such cases rather abundant in the form of means of production and 
+products, and swamps the markets. 
+
+It is, therefore, easy to explain how the mass of securities held by a bank as collateral increases, hence 
+how the growing demand for pecuniary accommodation can be satisfied by the bank, while the total mass 
+of currency remains the same or decreases. This total mass is held in check during such periods of money 
+stringency in two ways: 1) by a drain of gold; 2) by a demand for money in its capacity as a mere means 
+of payment, when the issued bank-notes return immediately; or when the transactions take place without 
+the mediation of notes by means of book credit; when, therefore, payments are made simply through a 
+credit transaction, the settlement of these payments being the sole purpose of the operation. It is a 
+peculiarity of money, when it serves merely to settle accounts (and in times of crises loans are taken up 
+to pay, rather than to buy; to wind up previous transactions, not to initiate new ones), that its circulation 
+is no more than fleeting, even where balances are not settled by mere credit operations, without the 
+mediation of money, so that, when there is a strong demand for pecuniary accommodation, an enormous 
+quantity of such transactions can take place without expanding the circulation. But the mere fact that the 
+circulation of the Bank of England remains stable or even decreases simultaneously with an extensive 
+accommodation of money on its part, does not prima facie prove, as Fullarton, Tooke and others assume 
+(owing to their erroneous notion that pecuniary accommodation is identical with receiving capital on loan 
+as additional capital), that the circulation of money (of bank-notes) in its function as a means of payment 
+is not increased and extended. Since the circulation of notes as means of purchase decreases during a 
+business depression, when such extensive accommodation is necessary, their circulation as means of 
+payment may increase, and the aggregate amount of the circulation, the sum of notes functioning as 
+means of purchase and payment, may remain stable or may even decrease. The circulation as a means of 
+payment of bank-notes immediately returning to the bank that issues them is simply not circulation in the 
+eyes of those economists. 
+
+Should circulation as a means of payment increase at a higher rate than it decreases as a means of 
+purchase, the aggregate circulation would increase, although the money serving as a means of purchase 
+would decrease considerably in quantity. And this actually occurs in certain periods of crisis, namely, 
+when credit collapses completely and when not only commodities and securities are unsaleable but bills 
+of exchange are undiscountable and nothing counts any more but money payment, or, as the merchant 
+puts it, cash. Since Fullarton et al. do not understand that the circulation of notes as means of payment is 
+the characteristic feature of such periods of money shortage, they treat this phenomenon as accidental. 
+"With respect again to those examples of eager competition for the possession of bank-notes, which 
+characterise seasons of panic and which may sometimes, as at the close of 1825, lead to a sudden, though 
+only temporary, enlargement of the issues, even while the efflux of bullion is still going on, these, I 
+apprehend, are not to be regarded as among the natural or necessary concomitants of a low exchange; the 
+demand in such cases is not for circulation" (read circulation as a means of purchase), "but for hoarding, 
+a demand on the part of alarmed bankers and capitalists which arises generally in the last act of the 
+crisis" (hence, for a reserve of means of payment), "after a long continuation of the drain, and is the 
+precursor of its termination." (Fullarton, p. 130.) 
+
+In the discussion of money as a means of payment (Vol. I, Ch. Ill, 3, b) we have already explained, in 
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+what manner, when the chain of payments is suddenly interrupted, money turns from its ideal form into a 
+material and, at the same time, absolute form of value vis-a-vis the commodities. This was illustrated by 
+some examples (footnotes 100 and 101). This interruption itself is partly an effect, partly a cause of the 
+instability of credit and of the circumstances accompanying it, such as overstocking of markets, 
+depreciation of commodities, interruption of production, etc. 
+
+It is evident, however, that Fullarton transforms the distinction between money as a means of purchase 
+and money as a means of payment into a false distinction between currency and capital. This is again due 
+to the narrow-minded banker's conception of circulation. 
+
+It might yet be asked: which is it, capital or money in its specific function as a means of payment that is 
+in short supply in such periods of stringency? And this is a well-known controversy. 
+
+In the first place, so far as the stringency is marked by a drain of gold, it is evidently international means 
+of payment that are demanded. But money in its specific capacity of international means of payment is 
+gold in its metallic actuality, as a valuable substance in itself, as a quantity of value. It is at the same time 
+capital, not capital as commodity-capital, but as money-capital, capital not in the form of commodities 
+but in the form of money (and, at that, of money in the eminent sense of the word, in which it exists as 
+universal world-market commodity). It is not a contradiction here between a demand for money as a 
+means of payment and a demand for capital. The contradiction is rather between capital in its 
+money-form and capital in its commodity-form; and the form which is here demanded and in which 
+alone it can function, is its money-form. 
+
+Aside from this demand for gold (or silver) it cannot be said that there is any dearth whatever of capital 
+in such periods of crisis. Under extraordinary circumstances, such as rise in the price of corn, or a cotton 
+famine, etc., this may be the case; but these phenomena are not necessary or regular accompaniments of 
+such periods; and the existence of such a lack of capital cannot be assumed beforehand without further 
+ado from the mere fact that there is a heavy demand for pecuniary accommodation. On the contrary. The 
+markets are overstocked, swamped with commodity-capital. Hence, it is not, in any case, a lack of 
+commodity-capital which causes the stringency. We shall return to this question later. 
+
+FOOTNOTES 
+
+T 1 1 We here give the related passage from Tooke in the original, which was cited in German on p. 390 
+[present edition: Ch. XXV:] "The business of bankers, setting aside the issue of promissory notes payable 
+on demand, may be divided into two branches, corresponding with the distinction pointed out by Dr. 
+(Adam) Smith of the transactions between dealers and dealers, and between dealers and consumers. One 
+branch of the bankers' business is to collect capital from those who have not immediate employment for 
+it, and to distribute or transfer it to these who have. The other branch is to receive deposits of the incomes 
+of their customers, and to pay out the amount, as it is wanted for expenditure by the latter in the objects 
+of their consumption... the former being a circulation of capital, the latter of currency. " (Tooke, Inquiry 
+into the Currency Principle, London, p. 36.) The first is "the concentration of capital on the one hand and 
+the distribution of it on the other"; the latter is "administering the circulation for local purposes of the 
+district." (Ibid., p. 37.) A far more correct conception is outlined in the following passage by Kinnear: 
+"Money... is employed to perform two operations essentially distinct... As a medium of exchange 
+between dealers and dealers, it is the instrument by which transfers of capital are effected; that is, the 
+
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+
+exchange of a certain amount of capital in money for an equal amount of capital in commodities. But 
+money employed in the payment of wages and in purchase and sale between dealers and consumers is 
+not capital, but income; that portion of the incomes of the community, which is devoted to daily 
+expenditure. It circulates in constant daily use, and is that alone which can, with strict propriety, be 
+termed currency. Advances of capital depend entirely on the will of the Bank and other possessors of 
+capital, for borrowers are always to be found; but the amount of the currency depends on the wants of the 
+community, among whom the money circulates, for the purposes of daily expenditure." (J. G. Kinnear, 
+The Crisis and the Currency, London, 1847 [pp. 3-4].) 
+
+\2] "It is a great error, indeed, to imagine that the demand for pecuniary accommodation " (that is, for the 
+loan of capital) "is identical with a demand for additional means of circulation, or even that the two are 
+frequently associated. Each demand originates in circumstances peculiarly affecting itself, and very 
+distinct from each other. It is when everything looks prosperous, when wages are high, prices on the rise, 
+and factories busy, that an additional supply of currency is usually required to perform the additional 
+functions inseparable from the necessity of making larger and more numerous payments; whereas it is 
+chiefly in a more advanced stage of the commercial cycle, when difficulties begin to present themselves, 
+when markets are overstocked, and returns delayed, that interest rises, and a pressure comes upon the 
+Bank for advances of capital. It is true that there is no medium through which the Bank is accustomed to 
+advance capital except that of its promissory notes; and that to refuse the notes, therefore, is to refuse the 
+accommodation. But the accommodation once granted, everything adjusts itself in conformity with the 
+necessities of the market; the loan remains, and the currency, if not wanted, finds its way hack to the 
+issuer. Accordingly, a very slight examination of the Parliamentary Returns may convince any one, that 
+the securities in the hands of the Bank of England fluctuate more frequently in an opposite direction to its 
+circulation than in concert with it, and that the example, therefore, of that great establishment furnishes 
+no exception to the doctrine so strongly pressed by the country bankers, to the effect that no hank can 
+enlarge its circulation, if that circulation he already adequate to the purposes to which a bank-note 
+currency is commonly applied; but that every addition to its advances, after that limit is passed, must he 
+made from its capital, and supplied by the sale of some of its securities in reserve, or by abstinence from 
+further investment in such securities. The table compiled from the Parliamentary Returns for the interval 
+between 1833 and 1840, to which I have referred in a preceding page, furnishes continued examples of 
+this truth; but two of these are so remarkable that it will be quite unnecessary for me to go beyond them. 
+On the 3rd of January, 1837, when the resources of the Bank were strained to the uttermost to sustain 
+credit and meet the difficulties of the money- market, we find its advances on loan and discount carried 
+to the enormous sum of £17,022,000, an amount scarcely known since the war, and almost equal to the 
+entire aggregate issues which, in the meanwhile, remain unmoved at so low a point as £17,076,000! On 
+the other hand, we have on the 4th of June, 1833, a circulation of £18,892,000, with a return of private 
+securities in hand, nearly, if not the very lowest on record for the last half-century, amounting to no more 
+than £972,000!" (Fullarton, 1. c, pp. 97, 98.) That a demand for pecuniary accommodation need not be 
+identical by any means with a demand for gold (what Wilson, Tooke and others call capital) is seen from 
+the following testimony of Mr. Weguelin, Governor of the Bank of England: "The discounting of bills to 
+that extent" (one million daily for three successive days) "would not reduce the reserve" (of bank-notes), 
+"unless the public demanded a greater amount of active circulation. The notes issued on the discount of 
+bills would be returned through the medium of the bankers and through deposits. Unless these 
+transactions were for the purpose of exporting bullion, and unless there were an amount of internal panic 
+which induced people to lock up their notes, and not to pay them into the hands of the bankers... the 
+reserve would not be affected by the magnitude of the transactions." — "The Bank may discount a million 
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+
+and a half a day, and that is done constantly, without its reserve being in the slightest degree affected, the 
+notes coming back again as deposits, and no other alteration taking place than the mere transfer from one 
+account to another." (Report on Bank Acts, 1857, Evidence Nos. 241, 500.) The notes therefore serve 
+here merely as means of transferring credits. 
+
+[31 The passage that follows in the original is unintelligible in this context and has been rewritten by the 
+editor to the end of the brackets. In another context this point has already been touched upon in Chapter 
+XXVI. -F.E 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 29 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 29 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+PartV 
+
+DIVISION OF PROFIT INTO INTEREST AND PROFIT 
+
+OF ENTERPRISE. 
+
+INTEREST-BEARING CAPITAL 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 29 
+
+
+
+Component Parts of Bank Capital 
+
+
+
+It is now necessary to examine the component parts of bank capital in greater detail. 
+
+We have just seen that Fullarton and others transform the distinction between money as a medium of 
+circulation and money as a means of payment — also universal money in so far as it concerns a drain of 
+gold — into a distinction between currency and capital. 
+
+The peculiar role played by capital in this instance is the reason why bankers' economics teaches that 
+money is indeed capital par excellence as insistently as enlightened economics taught that money is not 
+capital. 
+
+In subsequent analyses, we shall demonstrate that money-capital is being confused here with moneyed 
+capital in the sense of interest-bearing capital, while in the former sense, money-capital is always merely 
+a transient form of capital — in contradistinction to the other forms of capital, namely, commodity-capital 
+and productive capital. 
+
+Bank capital consists of 1) cash money, gold or notes; 2) securities. The latter can be subdivided into two 
+parts: commercial paper or bills of exchange, which run for a period, become due from time to time, and 
+whose discounting constitutes the essential business of the banker; and public securities, such as 
+government bonds, treasury notes, stocks of all kinds, in short, interest-bearing paper which is however 
+significantly different from bills of exchange. Mortgages may also be included here. The capital 
+composed of these tangible component parts can again be divided into the banker's invested capital and 
+into deposits, which constitute his banking capital, or borrowed capital. In the case of banks which issue 
+notes, these must be included. We shall leave the deposits and notes out of consideration for the present 
+It is evident at any rate that the actual component parts of the banker's capital (money, hills of exchange, 
+deposit currency) remain unaffected whether the various elements represent the banker's own capital or 
+deposits, i.e., the capital of other people. The same division would remain, whether he were to carry on 
+
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+
+his business with only his own capital or only with deposited capital. 
+
+The form of interest-bearing capital is responsible for the fact that every definite and regular money 
+revenue appears as interest on some capital, whether it arises from some capital or not. The money 
+income is first converted into interest, and from the interest one can determine the capital from which it 
+arises. In like manner, in the case of interest-bearing capital, every sum of value appears as capital as 
+long as it is not expended as revenue; that is, it appears as principal in contrast to possible or actual 
+interest which it may yield. 
+
+The matter is simple. Let the average rate of interest be 5% annually. A sum of £500 would then yield 
+£25 annually if converted into interest-bearing capital. Every fixed annual income of £25 may then be 
+considered as interest on a capital of £500. This, however, is and remains a purely illusory conception, 
+except in the case where the source of the £25, whether it be a mere title of ownership or claim, or an 
+actual element of production such as real estate, is directly transferable or assumes a form in which it 
+becomes transferable. Let us take the national debt and wages as illustrations. 
+
+The state has to annually pay its creditors a certain amount of interest for the capital borrowed from 
+them. In this case, the creditor cannot recall his investment from his debtor, but can only sell his claim, or 
+his title of ownership. The capital itself has been consumed, i.e., expended by the state. It no longer 
+exists. What the creditor of the state possesses is 1) the state's promissory note, amounting to, say, £100; 
+2) this promissory note gives the creditor a claim upon the annual revenue of the state, that is, the annual 
+tax proceeds, for a certain amount, e.g., £5 or 5%; 3) the creditor can sell this promissory note of £100 at 
+his discretion to some other person. If the rate of interest is 5%, and the security given by the state is 
+good, the owner A can sell this promissory note, as a rule, to B for £100; for it is the same to B whether 
+he lends £100 at 5% annually, or whether he secures for himself by the payment of £100 an annual 
+tribute from the state amounting to £5. But in all these cases, the capital, as whose offshoot (interest) 
+state payments are considered, is illusory, fictitious capital. Not only that the amount loaned to the state 
+no longer exists, but it was never intended that it be expended as capital, and only by investment as 
+capital could it have been transformed into a self-preserving value. To the original creditor A, the share 
+of annual taxes accruing to him represents interest on his capital, just as the share of the spendthrift's 
+fortune accruing to the usurer appears to the latter, although in both cases the loaned amount was not 
+invested as capital. The possibility of selling the state's promissory note represents for A the potential 
+means of regaining his principal. As for B, his capital is invested, from his individual point of view, as 
+interest-bearing capital. So far as the transaction is concerned, B has simply taken the place of A by 
+buying the latter's claim on the state's revenue. No matter how often this transaction is repeated, the 
+capital of the state debt remains purely fictitious, and, as soon as the promissory notes become 
+unsaleable, the illusion of this capital disappears. Nevertheless, this fictitious capital has its own laws of 
+motion, as we shall presently see. 
+
+We shall now consider labour-power in contrast to the capital of the national debt, where a negative 
+quantity appears as capital-just as interest-bearing capital, in general, is the fountainhead of all manner of 
+insane forms, so that debts, for instance, can appear to the banker as commodities. Wages are conceived 
+here as interest, and therefore labour-power as the capital yielding this interest. For example, if the wage 
+for one year amounts to £50 and the rate of interest is 5%, the annual labour-power is equal to a capital of 
+£1,000. The insanity of the capitalist mode of conception reaches its climax here, for instead of 
+explaining the expansion of capital on the basis of the exploitation of labour-power, the matter is 
+reversed and the productivity of labour power is explained by attributing this mystical quality of 
+
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+
+interest-bearing capital to labour-power itself. In the second half of the 17th century, this used to be a 
+favourite conception (for example, of Petty), but it is used even nowadays in all seriousness by some 
+vulgar economists and more particularly by some German statisticians. JJJ Unfortunately two 
+disagreeably frustrating facts mar this thoughtless conception. In the first place, the labourer must work 
+in order to obtain this interest. In the second place, he cannot transform the capital- value of his 
+labour-power into cash by transferring it. Rather, the annual value of his labour-power is equal to his 
+average annual wage, and what he has to give the buyer in return through his labour is this same value 
+plus a surplus-value, i.e., the increment added by his labour. In a slave society, the labourer has a 
+capital-value, namely, his purchase price. And when he is hired out, the hirer must pay, in the first place, 
+the interest on this purchase price, and, in addition, replace the annual wear and tear on the capital. 
+
+The formation of a fictitious capital is called capitalisation. Every periodic income is capitalised by 
+calculating it on the basis of the average rate of interest, as an income which would be realised by a 
+capital loaned at this rate of interest. For example, if the annual income is £400 and the rate of interest 
+5%, then the £100 would represent the annual interest on £2,000, and the £2,000 is regarded as the 
+capital-value of the legal title of ownership on the £100 annually. For the person who buys this title of 
+ownership, the annual income of £100 represents indeed the interest on his capital invested at 5%. All 
+connection with the actual expansion process of capital is thus completely lost, and the conception of 
+capital as something with automatic self-expansion properties is thereby strengthened. 
+
+Even when the promissory note — the security — does not represent a purely fictitious capital, as it does 
+in the case of state debts, the capital- value of such paper is nevertheless wholly illusory. We have 
+previously seen in what manner the credit system creates associated capital. The paper serves as title of 
+ownership which represents this capital. The stocks of railways, mines, navigation companies, and the 
+like, represent actual capital, namely, the capital invested and functioning in such enterprises, or the 
+amount of money advanced by the stockholders for the purpose of being used as capital in such 
+enterprises. This does not preclude the possibility that these may represent pure swindle. But this capital 
+does not exist twice, once as the capital- value of titles of ownership (stocks) on the one hand and on the 
+other hand as the actual capital invested, or to be invested, in those enterprises. It exists only in the latter 
+form, and a share of stock is merely a title of ownership to a corresponding portion of the surplus-value 
+to be realised by it. A may sell this title to B, and B may sell it to C. These transactions do not alter 
+anything in the nature of the problem. A or B then has his title in the form of capital, but C has 
+transformed his capital into a mere title of ownership to the anticipated surplus-value from the stock 
+capital. 
+
+The independent movement of the value of these titles of ownership, not only of government bonds but 
+also of stocks, adds weight to the illusion that they constitute real capital alongside of the capital or claim 
+to which they may have title. For they become commodities, whose price has its own characteristic 
+movements and is established in its own way. Their market- value is determined differently from their 
+nominal value, without any change in the value (even though the expansion may change) of the actual 
+capital. On the one hand, their market- value fluctuates with the amount and reliability of the proceeds to 
+which they afford legal title. If the nominal value of a share of stock, that is, the invested sum originally 
+represented by this share, is £100, and the enterprise pays 10% instead of 5%, then its market-value, 
+everything else remaining equal, rises to £200, as long as the rate of interest is 5%, for when capitalised 
+at 5%, it now represents a fictitious capital of £200. Whoever buys it for £200 receives a revenue of 5% 
+on this investment of capital. The converse is true when the proceeds from the enterprise diminish. The 
+market- value of this paper is in part speculative, since it is determined not only by the actual income, but 
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+
+also by the anticipated income, which is calculated in advance. But assuming the expansion of the actual 
+capital as constant, or where no capital exists, as in the case of state debts, the annual income to be fixed 
+by law and otherwise sufficiently secured, the price of these securities rises and falls inversely as the rate 
+of interest. If the rate of interest rises from 5% to 10%, then securities guaranteeing an income of £5 will 
+now represent a capital of only £50. Conversely, if the rate of interest falls to 2 1/2%; the same securities 
+will represent a capital of £200. Their value is always merely capitalised income, that is, the income 
+calculated on the basis of a fictitious capital at the prevailing rate of interest. Therefore, when the 
+money-market is tight these securities will fall in price for two reasons: first, because the rate of interest 
+rises, and secondly, because they are thrown on the market in large quantities in order to convert them 
+into cash. This drop in price takes place regardless of whether the income that this paper guarantees its 
+owner is constant, as is the case with government bonds, or whether the expansion of the actual capital, 
+which it represents, as in industrial enterprises, is possibly affected by disturbances in the reproduction 
+process. In the latter event, there is only still another depreciation added to that mentioned above. As 
+soon as the storm is over, this paper again rises to its former level, in so far as it does not represent a 
+business failure or swindle. Its depreciation in times of crisis serves as a potent means of centralising 
+fortunes. [2] 
+
+To the extent that the depreciation or increase in value of this paper is independent of the movement of 
+value of the actual capital that it represents, the wealth of the nation is just as great before as after its 
+depreciation or increase in value. "The. public stocks and canal and railway shares had already by the 
+23rd of October, 1847, been depreciated in the aggregate to the amount of £1 14,752,225." (Morris, 
+Governor of the Bank of England, testimony in the Report on Commercial Distress, 1847-48 [No. 
+3800].) Unless this depreciation reflected an actual stoppage of production and of traffic on canals and 
+railways, or a suspension of already initiated enterprises, or squandering capital in positively worthless 
+ventures, the nation did not grow one cent poorer by the bursting of this soap bubble of nominal 
+money-capital. 
+
+All this paper actually represents nothing more than accumulated claims, or legal titles, to future 
+production whose money or capital value represents either no capital at all, as in the case of state debts, 
+or is regulated independently of the value of real capital which it represents. 
+
+In all countries based on capitalist production, there exists in this foreman enormous quantity of so-called 
+interest-bearing capital, or moneyed capital. And by accumulation of money-capital nothing more, in the 
+main, is connoted than an accumulation of these claims on production, an accumulation of the 
+market-price, the illusory capital-value of these claims. 
+
+A part of the banker's capital is now invested in this so-called interest-bearing paper. This is itself a 
+portion of the reserve capital, which does not perform any function in the actual business of banking. The 
+most important portion of this paper consists of bills of exchange, that is, promises to pay made by 
+industrial capitalists or merchants. For the money-lender these bills of exchange are interest-bearing, in 
+other words, when he buys them, he deducts interest for the time which they still have to run. This is 
+called discounting. It depends on the prevailing rate of interest, how much of a deduction is made from 
+the sum represented by the bill of exchange. 
+
+Finally, the last part of the capital of a banker consists of his money reserve in gold and notes. The 
+deposits, unless tied up by agreement for a certain time, are always at the disposal of the depositors. They 
+are in a state of continual fluctuation. But while one depositor draws on his account, another deposits, so 
+
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+
+that the general average sum total of deposits fluctuates little during periods of normal business. 
+
+The reserve funds of the banks, in countries with developed capitalist production, always express on the 
+average the quantity of money existing in the form of a hoard, and a portion of this hoard in turn consists 
+of paper, mere drafts upon gold, which have no value in themselves. The greater portion of banker's 
+capital is, therefore, purely fictitious and consists of claims (bills of exchange), government securities 
+(which represent spent capital), and stocks (drafts on future revenue). And it should not be forgotten that 
+the money- value of the capital represented by this paper in the safes of the banker is itself fictitious, in so 
+far as the paper consists of drafts on guaranteed revenue (e.g., government securities), or titles of 
+ownership to real capital (e.g., stocks), and that this value is regulated differently from that of the real 
+capital, which the paper represents at least in part; or, when it represents mere claims on revenue and no 
+capital, the claim on the same revenue is expressed in continually changing fictitious money-capital. In 
+addition to this, it must be noted that this fictitious banker's capital represents largely, not his own 
+capital, but that of the public, which makes deposits with him, either interest-bearing or not. 
+
+Deposits are always made in money, in gold or notes, or in drafts upon these. With the exception of the 
+reserve fund, which contracts or expands in accordance with the requirements of actual circulation, these 
+deposits are in fact always in the hands of the industrial capitalists and merchants, on the one hand, 
+whose bills of exchange are thereby discounted and who thus receive advances; on the other hand, they 
+are in the hands of dealers in securities (exchange brokers), or in the hands of private parties who have 
+sold their securities, or in the hands of the government (in the case of treasury notes and new loans). The 
+deposits themselves play a double role. On the one hand, as we have just mentioned, they are loaned out 
+as interest-bearing capital and are, therefore, not in the safes of the banks, but figure merely on their 
+books as credits of the depositors. On the other hand, they function merely as such book entries, in so far 
+as the mutual claims of the depositors are balanced by cheques on their deposits and can be written off 
+against each other. In this connection, it is immaterial whether these deposits are entrusted to the same 
+banker, who can thus balance the various accounts against each other, or whether this is done in different 
+banks, which mutually exchange cheques and pay only the balances to one another. 
+
+With the development of interest-bearing capital and the credit system, all capital seems to double itself, 
+and sometimes treble itself, by the various modes in which the same capital, or perhaps even the same 
+claim on a debt, appears in different forms in different hands. [3] The greater portion of this 
+"money-capital" is purely fictitious. All the deposits, with the exception of the reserve fund, are merely 
+claims on the banker, which, however, never exist as deposits. To the extent that they serve in 
+clearing-house transactions, they perform the function of capital for the bankers-after the latter have 
+loaned them out. They pay one another their mutual drafts upon the non-existing deposits by balancing 
+their mutual accounts. 
+
+Adam Smith says with regard to the role played by capital in the loaning of money: "Even in the 
+moneyed interest, however, the money is, as it were, but the deed of assignment which conveys from one 
+hand to another those capitals which the owners do not care to employ themselves. Those capitals may be 
+greater in almost any proportion than the amount of the money, which serves as the instrument of their 
+conveyance, the same pieces of money successively serving for many different loans, as well as for many 
+different purchases. A, for example, lends to W £1,000, with which W immediately purchases of B 
+£1,000 worth of goods. B, having no occasion for the money himself, lends the identical pieces to X, 
+with which X immediately purchases of C another £1,000 worth of goods. C, in the same manner, and for 
+the same reason, lends them to Y, who again purchases goods with them of D. In this manner the same 
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 29 
+
+pieces, either of coin or of paper, may, in the course of a few days, serve as the instrument of three 
+different loans, and of three different purchases, each of which is, in value, equal to the whole amount of 
+those pieces. What the three moneyed men, A, B and C, assign to the three borrowers, W, X and Y, is the 
+power of making those purchases. In this power consist both the value and the use of the loans. The stock 
+lent by the three moneyed men is equal to the value of the goods which can be purchased with it, and is 
+three times greater than that of the money with which the purchases are made. Those loans, however, 
+may be all perfectly well secured, the goods purchased by the different debtors being so employed, as, in 
+due time, to bring back, with a profit, an equal value either of coin or of paper. And as the same pieces of 
+money can thus serve as the instrument of different loans to three, or for the same reason, to thirty times 
+their value, so they may likewise successively serve as the instrument of repayment. ([An Inquiry into the 
+Nature and Causes o/ the Wealth of Nations, Aberdeen, London, 1848, p. 236. — Ed.] Book II, Chap. 
+IV.) 
+
+Since the same piece of money can be used for various purchases, corresponding to its velocity of 
+circulation, it can similarly be used for various loans, since the purchases lake it from one person to 
+another, and a loan is but a transfer from one person to another without the mediation of a purchase. To 
+every seller, money represents the transformed shape of his commodities. Nowadays, when every value 
+is expressed as capital- value, it represents in the various loans various capitals in succession. This is 
+simply another way of expressing the earlier statement that it can successively realise various 
+commodity-values. At the same time it serves as a medium of circulation, in order to transfer the real 
+capitals from person to person. In the case of loans, it does not pass from person to person as a medium 
+of circulation. As long as it remains in the hands of the lender, it is in his hands not a medium of 
+circulation, but the value existence of his capital. And in this form he transfers it when lending it to 
+another. If A had lent the money to B, and B to C, without the mediation of purchases, the same money 
+would not represent three capitals, but only one — a single capital- value. The number of capitals which it 
+actually represents depends on the number of times that it functions as the value-form of various 
+commodity-capitals . 
+
+The same thing that Adam Smith says about loans in general also applies to deposits, which are merely 
+another name for the loans which the public makes to the bankers. The same pieces of money may serve 
+as the instruments for any number of deposits. 
+
+"It is unquestionably true that the £1,000 which you deposit at A today may be reissued tomorrow, and 
+form a deposit at B. The day after that, reissued from B, it may form a deposit at C... and so on to 
+infinitude; and that the same £1,000 in money may, thus, by a succession of transfers, multiply itself into 
+a sum of deposits absolutely indefinite. It is possible, therefore, that nine-tenths of all the deposits in the 
+United Kingdom may have no existence beyond their record in the books of the bankers who are 
+respectively accountable for them... Thus in Scotland, for instance, currency has never exceeded £3 
+million, the deposits in the banks are estimated at £27 million. Unless a run on the banks be made, the 
+same £4,000 would, if sent back upon its travels, cancel with the same facility a sum equally indefinite. 
+As the same £1,000, with which you cancel your debt to a tradesman today, may cancel his debt to the 
+merchant tomorrow, the merchant's debt to the bank the day following, and so on without end; so the 
+same £1,000 may pass from hand to hand, and bank to bank, and cancel any conceivable sum of 
+deposits." (The Currency Theory Reviewed, pp. 62-63.) 
+
+Just as everything in this credit system is doubled and trebled and transformed into a mere phantom of 
+the imagination, so it is with the "reserve fund," where one would at last hope to grasp on to something 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 29 
+
+solid. 
+
+Let us listen once more to Mr. Morris, Governor of the Bank of England: "The reserves of the private 
+bankers are in the hands of the Bank of England in the shape of deposits... An export of gold acts 
+exclusively, in the first instance, upon the reserve of the Bank of England; but it would also be acting 
+upon the reserves of the bankers, inasmuch as it is a withdrawal of a portion of the reserves which they 
+have in the Bank of England. It would be acting upon the reserves of all the bankers throughout the 
+country." (Commercial Distress, 1847-48, Nos. 3639, 3642.) Ultimately, then, the reserve funds actually 
+merge with the reserve fund of the Bank of England.[4J However, this reserve fund also has a double 
+existence. The reserve fund of the banking department is equal to the surplus of notes which the Bank is 
+authorised to issue over and above the notes in circulation. The legal maximum of the note issue is £14 
+million (for which no bullion reserve is required; it is the approximate amount owed by the state to the 
+Bank) plus the amount of the Bank's supply of precious metal. If the supply of precious metal in the 
+Bank amounts to £14 million, the Bank can thus issue £28 million in notes, and if £20 million of these 
+are in circulation, the reserve fund of the banking department is £8 million. These £8 million's worth of 
+notes are then legally the banker's capital at the disposal of the Bank, and at the same time the reserve 
+fund for its deposits. Now, if a drain of gold takes place, whereby the supply of precious metal in the 
+Bank is reduced by £6 million — requiring the destruction of an equivalent number of notes — the reserve 
+of the banking department would fall from £8 million to £2 million. On the one hand, the Bank would 
+raise its rate of interest considerably; on the other hand, the banks having deposits with it, and the other 
+depositors, would observe a large decrease in the reserve fund covering their own credits in the Bank. In 
+4857, the four largest stock banks of London threatened to call in their deposits, and thereby bankrupt the 
+banking department, unless the Bank of England would secure a "government letter" suspending the 
+Bank Act of 1844. [5] In this way the banking department could fail, as in 4847, while any number of 
+millions (e.g., 8 million in 1847) are held in its issue department to guarantee the convertibility of the 
+circulating notes. But this is again illusory. 
+
+"That large portion (of deposits) for which the bankers themselves have no immediate demand passes 
+into the hands of the bill-brokers, who give to the banker in return commercial bills already discounted 
+by them for persons in London and in different parts of the country as a security for the sum advanced by 
+the banker. The bill-broker is responsible to the banker for payment of this money at call; and such is the 
+magnitude of these transactions, that Mr. Neave, the present Governor of the Bank [of England], stated in 
+evidence, 'We know that one broker had 5 million, and we were led to believe that another had between 
+8 and 10 million; there was one with 4, another with 3 1/2, and a third with above 8. 1 speak of deposits 
+with the brokers.'" (Report of Committee on Bank Acts, 1857-58, p. 5, Section 8.) 
+
+"The London bill-brokers carried on their enormous transactions without any cash reserve, relying on the 
+run off of their bills falling due, or in extremity, on the power of obtaining advances from the Bank of 
+England on the security of bills under discount." Ibid., p. VIII, Section 17. "Two bill-broking houses in 
+London suspended payment in 1847; both afterwards resumed business. In 1857, both suspended again. 
+The liabilities of one house in 1847 were, in round numbers, £2,683,000, with a capital of £180,000; the 
+liabilities of the same house, in 1857, were £5,300,000, the capital probably not more than one-fourth of 
+what it was in 1847. The liabilities of the other firm were between £3,000,000 and £4,000,000 at each 
+period of stoppage, with a capital not exceeding £45,000." (Ibid., p. XXI, Section 52.) 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 29 
+
+FOOTNOTES 
+
+T 1 1 "The labourer possesses capital-value, which is arrived at by considering the money-value or his 
+annual wage as income from interest... Capitalising... the average daily wage at 4%, we obtain the 
+average value of a male agricultural labourer to be: German Austria, 4,500 taler; Prussia, 4,500; England, 
+3,750; France, 2,000; inner Russia, 750 taler." (Von Reden, Vergleichende Kulturstatistik, Berlin, 1848, 
+p. 434.) 
+
+\2] [Immediately after the February Revolution, when commodities and securities were extremely 
+depreciated and utterly unsaleable, a Swiss merchant in Liverpool, Mr. B. Zwilchenbart -- who told this 
+to my father — cashed all his belongings, travelled with cash in hand to Paris and sought out Rothschild, 
+offering to participate in a joint enterprise with him. Rothschild looked at him fixedly, rushed towards 
+him, grabbed him by his shoulders and asked: "Avez-vous de I" argent sur vous?" - "Oui, M. he baron. " 
+— "Alors vous etes mon homme!" ("Have you money in your possession?" — "Yes, Baron." — "Then you 
+are my man!") -- And they did a thriving business together. — F.E.] 
+
+[3] [This doubling and trebling of capital has developed considerably further in recent years, for instance, 
+through financial trusts, which already occupy a heading of their own in the report of the London Stock 
+Exchange. A company is organised for the purchase of a certain class of interest-bearing of foreign 
+government securities, English municipal or American public bonds, railway stocks, etc. The capital, for 
+example, £2 million, is raised by stock subscriptions. The Board of Directors buys up the values in 
+question or speculates more or less actively therein, and after deducting the expenses distributes among 
+the stockholders the annual interest as dividends. Furthermore, some stock companies have adopted the 
+custom of dividing the common stock into two classes, preferred and deferred. The preferred receive a 
+fixed rate of interest, say, 5%, provided that the total profit permits it; if there is anything left after that, 
+the deferred receive it. In this manner, the "solid" investment of capital in preferred shares is more or less 
+separated from actual speculation — with deferred shares. Since a few large enterprises have been 
+unwilling to adopt this new custom, the expedient has been resorted to of organising new companies 
+which invest a million or several million pounds sterling in shares of the former companies and then 
+issue new shares amounting to the nominal value of the purchased shares, but half of them are issued as 
+preferred and the other half as deferred. In such cases the original shares are doubled, since they serve as 
+a basis for a new issue of shares. — F.E.] 
+
+[41 [To what extent this has intensified since then is shown by the following official tabulation of the 
+bank reserves of the fifteen largest London banks in November 1892, taken from the Daily News of 
+December 15, 1892: 
+
+
+
+City 
+
+Capital a 
+Imperial 
+Lloyds 
+
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+
+
+
+Name of Bank 
+
+
+Liabilities 
+
+
+Cash Reserves 
+
+
+Percentages 
+
+
+
+
+£9,317,629 
+
+
+£746,551 
+
+
+8.01 
+
+
+Counties 
+
+
+11,392,744 
+
+
+1,307,483 
+
+
+11.47 
+
+
+
+
+3,987,400 
+
+
+447,157 
+
+
+11.22 
+
+
+
+
+23,800,937 
+
+
+2,966,806 
+
+
+12.46 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 29 
+
+Lon. And Westminster 24,671,559 3,818,885 15.50 
+
+Lon. And S. Western 5,570,268 812,353 14.58 
+
+London Joint Stock 12,127,993 1,288,977 10.62 
+
+London and Midland 8,814,499 1,127,280 12.79 
+
+London and County 37,111,035 3,600,374 9.70 
+
+National 11,163,829 1,426,225 12.77 
+
+National Provincial. 41,907,384 4,614,780 41.01 
+
+Parrs and the Alliance 12,794,489 1,532,707 11.98 
+
+Prescott&Co 4,041,058 538,517 13.07 
+
+Union of London., 15,502,618 2,300,084 14.84 
+
+Williams, Deacon & Manchester & Co. 10,452,381 1,317,628 12.60 
+
+Total £232,655,823 £27,845,807 11.97 
+
+Of this total reserve of almost 28 million, at least 25 million are deposited in the Bank of England, and at 
+most 3 million are in cash in the safes of the 15 banks themselves. But the cash reserve of the banking 
+department of the Bank of England amounted to less than 16 million during that same month of 
+November 1892 - -F. E.] 
+
+[5] The suspension of the Bank Act of 1844 permits the Bank to issue any quantity of bank-notes 
+regardless of the gold reserve backing in its possession; thus, to create an arbitrary quantity of fictitious 
+paper money-capital, and to use it for the purpose of making loans to banks, exchange brokers, and 
+through them to commerce. — [F. E.] 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 30 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 30 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+PartV 
+
+DIVISION OF PROFIT INTO INTEREST AND PROFIT 
+
+OF ENTERPRISE. 
+
+INTEREST-BEARING CAPITAL 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 30 
+
+Money-Capital and Real Capital 
+I. 
+
+
+
+The only difficult questions, which we are now approaching in connection with the credit system, are the 
+following: 
+
+First: The accumulation of the actual money-capital. To what extent is it, and to what extent is it not, an 
+indication of an actual accumulation of capital, i.e., of reproduction on an extended scale? Is the so-called 
+plethora of capital — an expression used only with reference to the interest-bearing capital, i.e., moneyed 
+capital — only a special way of expressing industrial over-production, or does it constitute a separate 
+phenomenon alongside of it? Does this plethora, or excessive supply of money-capital, coincide with the 
+existence of stagnating masses of money (bullion, gold coin and bank-notes), so that this superabundance 
+of actual money is the expression and external form of that plethora of loan capital? 
+
+Secondly: To what extent does a scarcity of money, i.e., a shortage of loan capital, express a shortage of 
+real capital (commodity-capital and productive capital)? To what extent does it coincide, on the other 
+hand, with a shortage of money as such, a shortage of the medium of circulation? 
+
+In so far as we have hitherto considered the peculiar form of accumulation of money-capital and of 
+money wealth in general, it has resolved itself into an accumulation of claims of ownership upon labour. 
+The accumulation of the capital of the national debt has been revealed to mean merely an increase in a 
+class of state creditors, who have the privilege of a firm claim upon a certain portion of the tax 
+revenue.[6] By means of these facts, whereby even an accumulation of debts may appear as an 
+accumulation of capital, the height of distortion taking place in the credit system becomes apparent. 
+These promissory notes, which are issued for the originally loaned capital long since spent, these paper 
+duplicates of consumed capital, serve for their owners as capital to the extent that they are saleable 
+commodities and may, therefore, be reconverted into capital. 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 30 
+
+Titles of ownership to public works, railways, mines, etc;, are indeed, as we have also seen, titles to real 
+capital. But they do not place this capital at one's disposal. It is not subject to withdrawal. They merely 
+convey legal claims to a portion of the surplus-value to be produced by it. But these titles likewise 
+become paper duplicates of the real capital; it is as though a bill of lading were to acquire a value 
+separate from the cargo, both concomitantly and simultaneously with it. They come to nominally 
+represent non-existent capital. For the real capital exists side by side with them and does not change 
+hands as a result of the transfer of these duplicates from one person to another. They assume the form of 
+interest-bearing capital, not only because they guarantee a certain income, but also because, through their 
+sale, their repayment as capital-values can be obtained. To the extent that the accumulation of this paper 
+expresses the accumulation of railways, mines, steamships, etc., to that extent does it express the 
+extension of the actual reproduction process — just as the extension of, for example, a tax list on movable 
+property indicates the expansion of this property. But as duplicates which are themselves objects of 
+transactions as commodities, and thus able to circulate as capital- values, they are illusory, and their value 
+may fall or rise quite independently of the movement of value of the real capital for which they are titles. 
+Their value, that is, their quotation on the Stock Exchange, necessarily has a tendency to rise with a fall 
+in the rate of interest — in so far as this fall, independent of the characteristic movements of 
+money-capital, is due merely to the tendency for the rate of profit to fall; therefore, this imaginary wealth 
+expands, if for this reason alone, in the course of capitalist production in accordance with the expressed 
+value for each of its aliquot parts of specific original nominal value. \1] 
+
+Gain and loss through fluctuations in the price of these titles of ownership, and their centralisation in the 
+hands of railway kings, etc., become, by their very nature, more and more a matter of gamble, which 
+appears to take the place of labour as the original method of acquiring capital wealth and also replaces 
+naked force. This type of imaginary money wealth not only constitutes a very considerable part of the 
+money wealth of private people, but also of banker's capital, as we have already indicated. 
+
+In order to quickly settle this question, let us point out that one could also mean by the accumulation of 
+money-capital the accumulation of wealth in the hands of bankers (money-lenders by profession), acting 
+as middlemen between private money-capitalists on the one hand, and the state, communities, and 
+reproducing borrowers on the other. For the entire vast extension of the credit system, and all credit in 
+general, is exploited by them as their private capital. These fellows always possess capital and incomes in 
+money-form or in direct claims on money. The accumulation of the wealth of this class may take place 
+completely differently than actual accumulation, but it proves at any rate that this class pockets a good 
+deal of the real accumulation. 
+
+Let us reduce the scope of the problem before us. Government securities, like stocks and other securities 
+of all kinds, are spheres of investment for loanable capital — capital intended for bearing interest. They 
+are forms of loaning such capital. But they themselves are not the loan capital, which is invested in them. 
+On the other hand, in so far as credit plays a direct role in the reproduction process, what the industrialist 
+or merchant needs when he wishes to have a bill discounted or a loan granted is neither stocks nor 
+government securities. What he needs is money. He, therefore, pledges or sells those Securities if he 
+cannot secure money in any other way. It is the accumulation of this loan capital with which we have to 
+deal here, and more particularly accumulation of loanable money-capital. We are not concerned here 
+with loans of houses, machines, or other fixed capital. Nor are we concerned with the advances 
+industrialists and merchants make to one another in commodities and within the compass of the 
+reproduction process; although we must also investigate this point beforehand in more detail. We are 
+
+
+
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+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 30 
+
+concerned exclusively with money loans, which are made by bankers, as middlemen, to industrialists and 
+merchants. 
+
+
+
+Let us then, to begin with, analyse commercial credit, that is, the credit which the capitalists engaged in 
+reproduction give to one another. It forms the basis of the credit system. It is represented by the bill of 
+exchange, a promissory note with a definite term of payment, i.e., a document of deferred payment. 
+Everyone gives credit with one hand and receives credit with the other. Let us completely disregard, for 
+the present, banker' s credit, which constitutes an entirely different sphere. To the extent that these bills of 
+exchange circulate among the merchants themselves as means of payment again, by endorsement from 
+one to another — without, however, the mediation of discounting — it is merely a transfer of the claim 
+from A to B and does not change the picture in the least. It merely replaces one person by another. And 
+even in this case, the liquidation can take place without the intervention of money. Spinner A, for 
+example, has to pay a bill to cotton broker B, and the latter to importer C. Now, if C also exports yarn, 
+which happens often enough, he may buy yarn from A on a bill of exchange and the spinner A may pay 
+the broker B with the broker's own bill which was received in payment from C. At most, a balance will 
+have to be paid in money. The entire transaction then consists merely in the exchange of cotton and yarn. 
+The exporter represents only the spinner, and the cotton broker, the cotton planter. 
+
+Two things are now to be noted in the circuit of this purely commercial credit. 
+
+First : The settlement of these mutual claims depends upon the return flow of capital, that is, on C — M, 
+which is merely deferred. If the spinner has received a bill of exchange from a cotton goods 
+manufacturer, then manufacturer can pay if the cotton goods which he has on the market have been sold 
+in the interim. If the corn speculator has a bill of exchange drawn upon his agent, the agent can pay the 
+money if the corn has been sold in the interim at the expected price. These payments, therefore, depend 
+on the fluidity of reproduction, that is, the production and consumption processes. But since the credits 
+are mutual, the solvency of one depends upon the solvency of another; for in drawing his bill of 
+exchange, one may have counted either on the return flow of the capital in his own business or on the 
+return flow of the capital in a third party's business whose bill of exchange is due in the meantime. Aside 
+from the prospect of return flow of capital, payment can only be possible by means of reserve capital at 
+the disposal of the person drawing the bill of exchange, in order to meet his obligations in case the return 
+flow of capital should be delayed. 
+
+Secondly: This credit system does not do away with the necessity for cash payments. For one thing, a 
+large portion of expenses must always be paid in cash, e.g., wages, taxes, etc. Furthermore, capitalist B, 
+who has received from C a bill of exchange in place of cash payment, may have to pay a bill of his own 
+which has fallen due to D before C's bill becomes due, and so he must have ready cash. A complete 
+circuit of reproduction as that assumed above, i.e., from cotton planter to cotton spinner and back again, 
+can only constitute an exception; it will be constantly interrupted at many points. We have seen in the 
+discussion of the reproduction process (Vol II, Part III) that the producers of constant capital exchange, 
+in part, constant capital among themselves. As a result, the bills of exchange can, more or less, balance 
+each other out. Similarly, in the ascending line of production, where the cotton broker draws on the 
+cotton spinner, the spinner on the manufacturer of cotton goods, the manufacturer on the exporter, the 
+exporter on the importer (perhaps of cotton again). But the circuit of transactions, and, therefore, the turn 
+about of the series of claims, does not take place at the same time. For example, the claim of the spinner 
+on the weaver is not settled by the claim of the coal-dealer on the machine-builder. The spinner never has 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 30 
+
+any counter-claims on the machine-builder, in his business, because his product, yarn, never enters as an 
+element in the machine-builder's reproduction process. Such claims must, therefore, be settled by money. 
+
+The limits of this commercial credit, considered by themselves, are 1) the wealth of the industrialists and 
+merchants, that is, their command of reserve capital in case of delayed returns; 2) these returns 
+themselves. These returns may be delayed, or the prices of commodities may fall in the meantime or the 
+commodities may become momentarily unsaleable due to a stagnant market. The longer the bills of 
+exchange run, the larger must be the reserve capital, and the greater the possibility of a diminution or 
+delay of the returns through a fall in prices or a glut on the market. And, furthermore, the returns are so 
+much less secure, the more the original transaction was conditioned upon speculation on the rise or fall of 
+commodity-prices. But it is evident that with the development of the productive power of labour, and 
+thus of production on a large scale: 1) the markets expand and become more distant from the place of 
+production; 2) credits must, therefore, be prolonged; 3) the speculative element must thus more and more 
+dominate the transactions. Production on a large scale and for distant markets throws the total product 
+into the hands of commerce; but it is impossible that the capital of a nation should double itself in such a 
+manner that commerce should itself be able to buy up the entire national product with its own capital and 
+to sell it again. Credit is, therefore, indispensable here; credit, whose volume grows with the growing 
+volume of value of production and whose time duration grows with the increasing distance of the 
+markets. A mutual interaction takes place here. The development of the production process extends the 
+credit, and credit leads to an extension of industrial and commercial operations. 
+
+When we examine this credit detached from banker's credit, it is evident that it grows with an increasing 
+volume of industrial capital itself. Loan capital and industrial capital are identical here. The loaned 
+capital is commodity-capital which is intended either for ultimate individual consumption or for the 
+replacement of the constant elements of productive capital. What appears here as loan capital is always 
+capital existing in some definite phase of the reproduction process, but which by means of purchase and 
+sale passes from one person to another, while its equivalent is not paid by the buyer until some later 
+stipulated time. For example, cotton is transferred to the spinner for a bill of exchange, yarn to the 
+manufacturer of cotton goods for a bill of exchange, cotton goods to the merchant for a bill, from whose 
+hands they go to the exporter for a bill, and then, for a bill to some merchant in India, who sells the goods 
+and buys indigo instead, etc. During this transfer from hand to hand the transformation of cotton into 
+cotton goods is effected, and the cotton goods are finally transported to India and exchanged for indigo, 
+which is shipped to Europe and there enters into the reproduction process again. The various phases of 
+the reproduction process are promoted here by credit, without any payment on the part of the spinner for 
+the cotton, the manufacturer of cotton goods for the yarn, the merchant for the cotton goods, etc. In the 
+first stages of the process, the commodity, cotton, goes through its various production phases, and this 
+transition is promoted by credit. But as soon as the cotton has received in production its ultimate form as 
+a commodity, the same commodity-capital passes only through the hands of various merchants who 
+promote its transportation to distant markets, and the last of whom finally sells these commodities to the 
+consumer and buys other commodities in their stead, which either become consumed or go into the 
+reproduction process. It is necessary, then, to differentiate between two stages here: 
+
+In the first stage, credit promotes the actual successive phases in the production of the same article; in the 
+second, credit merely promotes the transfer of the article, including its transportation, from one merchant 
+to another, in other words, the process C — M. But here also the commodity is at least in the process of 
+circulation, that is, in a phase of the reproduction process. 
+
+
+
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+
+It follows, then, that it is never idle capital which is loaned here, but capital which must change its form 
+in the hands of its owner; it exists in a form that for him is merely commodity-capital, i.e., capital which 
+must be retransformed, and, to begin with, at least converted into money. It is, therefore, the 
+metamorphosis of commodities that is here promoted by credit; not merely C — M, but also M — C and 
+the actual production process. A large quantity of credit within the reproductive circuit (banker's credit 
+excepted) does not signify a large quantity of idle capital, which is being offered for loan and is seeking 
+profitable investment. It means rather a large employment of capital in the reproduction process. Credit, 
+then, promotes here 1) as far as the industrial capitalists are concerned, the transition of industrial capital 
+from one phase into another, the connection of related and dovetailing spheres of production; 2) as far as 
+the merchants are concerned, the transportation and transition of commodities from one person to another 
+until their definite sale for money or their exchange for other commodities. 
+
+The maximum of credit is here identical with the fullest employment of industrial capital, that is, the 
+utmost exertion of its reproductive power without regard to the limits of consumption. These limits of 
+consumption are extended by the exertions of the reproduction process itself. On the one hand, this 
+increases the consumption of revenue on the part of labourers and capitalists, on the other hand, it is 
+identical with an exertion of productive consumption. 
+
+As long as the reproduction process is continuous and, therefore, the return flow assured, this credit 
+exists and expands, and its expansion is based upon the expansion of the reproduction process itself. As 
+soon as a stoppage takes place, as a result of delayed returns, glutted markets, or fallen prices, a 
+superabundance of industrial capital becomes available, but in a form in which it cannot perform its 
+junctions. Huge quantities of commodity-capital, but unsaleable. Huge quantities of fixed capital, but 
+largely idle due to stagnant reproduction. Credit is contracted 1) because this capital is idle, i.e., blocked 
+in one of its phases of reproduction because it cannot complete its metamorphosis; 2) because confidence 
+in the continuity of the reproduction process has been shaken; 3) because the demand for this commercial 
+credit diminishes. The spinner, who curtails his production and has a large quantity of unsold yarn in 
+stock, does not need to buy any cotton on credit; the merchant does not need to buy any commodities on 
+credit because he has more than enough of them. 
+
+Hence, if there is a disturbance in this expansion or even in the normal flow of the reproduction process, 
+credit also becomes scarce; it is more difficult to obtain commodities on credit. However, the demand for 
+cash payment and the caution observed toward sales on credit are particularly characteristic of the phase 
+of the industrial cycle following a crash. During the crisis itself, since everyone has products to sell, 
+cannot sell them, and yet must sell them in order to meet payments, it is not the mass of idle and 
+investment-seeking capital, but rather the mass of capital impeded in its reproduction process, that is 
+greatest just when the shortage of credit is most acute (and therefore the rate of discount highest for 
+banker's credit). The capital already invested is then, indeed, idle in large quantities because the 
+reproduction process is stagnant. Factories are closed, raw materials accumulate, finished products flood 
+the market as commodities. Nothing is more erroneous, therefore, than to blame a scarcity of productive 
+capital for such a condition. It is precisely at such times that there is a superabundance of productive 
+capital, partly in relation to the normal, but temporarily reduced scale of reproduction, and partly in 
+relation to the paralysed consumption. 
+
+Let us suppose that the whole of society is composed only of industrial capitalists and wage- workers. Let 
+us furthermore disregard price fluctuations, which prevent large portions of the total capital from 
+replacing themselves in their average proportions and which, owing to the general interrelations of the 
+
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+
+entire reproduction process as developed in particular by credit, must always call forth general stoppages 
+of a transient nature. Let us also disregard the sham transactions and speculations, which the credit 
+system favours. Then, a crisis could only be explained as the result of a disproportion of production in 
+various branches of the economy, and as a result of a disproportion between the consumption of the 
+capitalists and their accumulation. But as matters stand, the replacement of the capital invested in 
+production depends largely upon the consuming power of the non-producing classes; while the 
+consuming power of the workers is limited partly by the laws of wages, partly by the fact that they are 
+used only as long as they can be profitably employed by the capitalist class. The ultimate reason for all 
+real crises always remains the poverty and restricted consumption of the masses as opposed to the drive 
+of capitalist production to develop the productive forces as though only the absolute consuming power of 
+society constituted their limit. 
+
+A real lack of productive capital, at least among capitalistically developed nations, can be said to exist 
+only in times of general crop failures, either in the principal foodstuffs or in the principal industrial raw 
+materials. 
+
+However, in addition to this commercial credit we have actual money credit. The advances of the 
+industrialists and merchants among one another are amalgamated with the money advances made to them 
+by the bankers and money-lenders. In discounting bills of exchange the advance is only nominal. A 
+manufacturer sells his product for a bill of exchange and gets this bill discounted by some bill-broker. In 
+reality, the latter advances only the credit of his banker, who in turn advances to the broker the 
+money-capital of his depositors. The depositors consist of the industrial capitalists and merchants 
+themselves and also of workers (through savings-banks) — as well as ground-rent recipients and other 
+unproductive classes. In this way every individual industrial manufacturer and merchant gets around the 
+necessity of keeping a large reserve fund and being dependent upon his actual returns. On the other hand, 
+the whole process becomes so complicated, partly by simply manipulating bills of exchange, partly by 
+commodity transactions for the sole purpose of manufacturing bills of exchange, that the semblance of a 
+very solvent business with a smooth flow of returns can easily persist even long after returns actually 
+come in only at the expense partly of swindled money-lenders and partly of swindled producers. Thus 
+business always appears almost excessively sound right on the eve of a crash. The best proof of this is 
+furnished, for instance, by the Reports on Bank Acts of 1857 and 1858, in which all bank directors, 
+merchants, in short all the invited experts with Lord Over stone at their head, congratulated one another 
+on the prosperity and soundness of business-just one month before the outbreak of the crisis in August 
+1857. And, strangely enough, Tooke in his History of Prices succumbs to this illusion once again as 
+historian for each crisis. Business is always thoroughly sound and the campaign in full swing, until 
+suddenly the debacle takes place. 
+
+
+
+We revert now to the accumulation of money-capital. 
+
+Not every augmentation of loanable money-capital indicates a real accumulation of capital or expansion 
+of the reproduction process. This becomes most evident in the phase of the industrial cycle immediately 
+following a crisis, when loan capital lies around idle in great quantities. At such times, when the 
+production process is curtailed (production in the English industrial districts was reduced by one-third 
+after the crisis of 1 847), when the prices of commodities are at their lowest level, when the spirit of 
+enterprise is paralysed, the rate of interest is low, which in this case indicates nothing more than an 
+increase in loanable capital precisely as a result of contraction and paralysation of industrial capital. It is 
+
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+
+quite obvious that a smaller quantity of a circulation medium is required when the prices of commodities 
+have fallen, the number of transactions decreased, and the capital laid out for wages reduced; that, on the 
+other hand, no additional money is required to function as world-money after foreign debts have been 
+liquidated either by the export of gold or as a result of bankruptcies; that, finally, the volume of business 
+connected with discounting bills of exchange diminishes in proportion with the reduced number and 
+magnitudes of the bills of exchange them-selves. Hence the demand for loanable money-capital, either to 
+act as a medium of circulation or as a means of payment (the investment of new capital 'is still out of the 
+question), decreases and this capital, therefore, becomes relatively abundant. Under such circumstances, 
+however, the supply of loanable money-capital also increases, as we shall later see. 
+
+Thus, the situation after the crisis of 1847 was characterised by "a limitation of transaction and a great 
+superabundance of money." (Commercial Distress, 1847-48, Evidence No. 1664.) The rate of interest 
+was very low because of the "almost perfect destruction of commerce and the almost total want of means 
+of employing money" (loc. cit., p. 45, testimony of Hodgson, Director of the Royal Bank of Liverpool). 
+What nonsense these gentlemen concocted (and Hodgson is, moreover, one of the best of them) in order 
+to explain these facts, can be seen from the following remark: "The pressure" (1847) "arose from the real 
+diminution of the moneyed capital of the country, caused partly by the necessity of paying in gold for 
+imports from all parts of the world, and partly by the absorption of floating into fixed capital." [I.e., p. 
+39.] How the conversion of floating capital into fixed capital reduces the money-capital of a country is 
+unintelligible. For, in the case of railways, e.g., in which capital was mainly invested at that time, neither 
+gold nor paper is used for viaducts and rails, and the money for the railway stocks, to the extent that it 
+had been deposited solely in payment, performed exactly the same functions as any other money 
+deposited in banks and even increased the loanable money-capital temporarily, as already shown above; 
+but to the extent that it had actually been spent for construction, it circulated in the country as a medium 
+of purchase and of payment. Only in so far as fixed capital cannot be exported, so that with the 
+impossibility of its export the available capital secured from returns for exported articles also drops out 
+of the picture-including the returns in cash or bullion-only to that extent could the money-capital be 
+affected. But at that time English export articles were also piled up in huge quantities on the foreign 
+markets without being able to be sold. It is true, the floating capital of the merchants and manufacturers 
+of Manchester, etc., who had a portion of their normal business capital tied up in railway stocks and were 
+therefore dependent upon borrowed capital for running their business, had become fixed, and they, 
+therefore, had to suffer the consequences. But it would have been the same, if the capital belonging to 
+their business, but withdrawn from it, had been invested, say, in mines instead of railways-mining 
+products like iron, coal, copper being themselves in turn floating capital. The actual reduction of 
+available money-capital through crop failures, corn imports, and gold exports constituted, naturally, an 
+event that had nothing to do with the railway swindle. — "Almost all mercantile houses had begun to 
+starve their business more or less... by taking part of their commercial capital for railways." — "Loans to 
+so great an extent by commercial houses to railways [loc. cit., p. 42] induced them to lean too much 
+upon... banks by the discount of paper, whereby to carry on their commercial operations" (the same 
+Hodgson, loc. cit., p. 67). "In Manchester there have been immense losses in consequence of the 
+speculation in railways" (R. Gardner, previously cited in Vol. I, Ch. XIII, 3, c, and in several other 
+places; Evidence No. 4884, loc. cit.). 
+
+One of the principal causes of the crisis of 1847 was the colossal flooding of the market and the fabulous 
+swindle in the East Indian trade with commodities. But there were also other circumstances which 
+bankrupted very rich firms in this line: "They had large means, but not available. The whole of their 
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+
+capital was locked up in estates in the Mauritius, or indigo factories, or sugar factories. Having incurred 
+liabilities to the extent of £500,000-600,000, they had no available assets to pay their bills, and 
+eventually it proved that to pay their bills they were entirely dependent upon their credit. " (Ch. Turner, 
+big East Indian merchant in Liverpool, No. 730, loc. cit.) See also Gardner (No. 4872, loc. cit.)\ 
+"Immediately after the China treaty, so great a prospect was held out to the country of a great extension 
+of our commerce with China, that there were many large mills built with a view to that trade exclusively, 
+in order to manufacture that class of cloth which is principally taken for the China market, and our 
+previous manufactures had the addition of all those." — "4874. How has that trade turned out? — Most 
+ruinous, almost beyond description; I do not believe, that of the whole of the shipments that were made 
+in 1844 and 1845 to China, above two-thirds of the amount have ever been returned; in consequence of 
+tea being the principal article of repayment and of the expectation that was held out, we, as 
+manufacturers, fully calculated upon a great reduction in the duty on tea." — And now, naively expressed, 
+comes the characteristic credo of the English manufacturer: "Our commerce with no foreign market is 
+limited by their power to purchase the commodity, but it is limited in this country by our capability of 
+consuming that which we receive in return for our manufactures." (The relatively poor countries, with 
+whom England trades, are, of course, able to pay for and consume any amount of English products, but 
+unfortunately wealthy England cannot assimilate the products sent in return.) "4876. 1 sent out some 
+goods in the first instance, and the goods sold at about 45 per cent loss, from the full conviction that the 
+price, at which my agents could purchase tea, would leave so great a profit in this country as to make up 
+the deficiency... but instead of profit, I lost in some instances 25 and up to 50 per cent." — "4877. Did the 
+manufacturers generally export on their own account? — Principally; the merchants, I think, very soon 
+saw that the thing would not answer, and they rather encouraged the manufacturers to consign than take a 
+direct interest themselves." — In 1857, on the other hand, the losses and failures fell mainly upon the 
+merchants, since the manufacturers left them the task of flooding the foreign markets "on their own 
+account." 
+
+An expansion of money-capital, which arises out of the fact that, in view of the expansion of banking 
+(see, below, the example of Ipswich, where in the course of a few years immediately preceding 1857 the 
+deposits of the capitalist farmers quadrupled), what was formerly a private hoard or coin reserve is 
+always converted into loanable capital for a definite time, does not indicate a growth in productive 
+capital any more than the increasing deposits with the London stock banks when the latter began to pay 
+interest on deposits. As long as the scale of production remains the same, this expansion leads only to an 
+abundance of loanable money-capital as compared with the productive. Hence the low rate of interest. 
+
+After the reproduction process has again reached that state of prosperity which precedes that of 
+over-exertion, commercial credit becomes very much extended; this forms, indeed, the "sound" basis 
+again for a ready flow of returns and extended production. In this state the rate of interest is still low, 
+although it rises above its minimum. This is, in fact, the only time that it can be said a low rate of interest, 
+and consequently a relative abundance of loanable capital, coincides with a real expansion of industrial 
+capital. The ready flow and regularity of the returns, linked with extensive commercial credit, ensures the 
+supply of loan capital in spite of the increased demand for it. and prevents the level of the rate of interest 
+from rising. On the other hand, those cavaliers who work without any reserve capital or without any 
+capital at all and who thus operate completely on a money credit basis begin to appear for the first time in 
+considerable numbers. To this is now added the great expansion of fixed capital in all forms, and the 
+opening of new enterprises on a vast and far-reaching scale. The interest now rises to its average level. It 
+reaches its maximum again as soon as the new crisis sets in. Credit suddenly stops then, payments are 
+
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+
+suspended, the reproduction process is paralysed, and with the previously mentioned exceptions, a 
+superabundance of idle industrial capital appears side by side with an almost absolute absence of loan 
+capital. 
+
+On the whole, then, the movement of loan capital, as expressed in the rate of interest, is in the opposite 
+direction to that of industrial capital. The phase wherein a low rate of interest, but above the minimum, 
+coincides with the "improvement" and growing confidence after a crisis, and particularly the phase 
+wherein the rate of interest reaches its average level, exactly midway between its minimum and 
+maximum, are the only two periods during which an abundance of loan capital is available 
+simultaneously with a great expansion of industrial capital. But at the beginning of the industrial cycle, a 
+low rate of interest coincides with a contraction, and at the end of the industrial cycle, a high rate of 
+interest coincides with a superabundance of industrial capital. The low rate of interest that accompanies 
+the "improvement" shows that the commercial credit requires bank credit only to a slight extent because 
+it is still self-supporting. 
+
+The industrial cycle is of such a nature that the same circuit must periodically reproduce itself, once the 
+first impulse has been given.[8] During a period of slack, production sinks below the level, which it had 
+attained in the preceding cycle and for which the technical basis has now been laid. During prosperity — 
+the middle period — it continues to develop on this basis. In the period of over-production and swindle, it 
+strains the productive forces to the utmost, until it exceeds the capitalistic limits of the production 
+process. 
+
+It is clear that there is a shortage of means of payment during a period of crisis. The convertibility of bills 
+of exchange replaces the metamorphosis of commodities themselves, and so much more so exactly at 
+such times the more a portion of the firms operates on pure credit. Ignorant and mistaken bank 
+legislation, such as that of 1844-45, can intensify this money crisis. But no kind of bank legislation can 
+eliminate a crisis. 
+
+In a system of production, where the entire continuity of the reproduction process rests upon credit, a 
+crisis must obviously occur-a tremendous rush for means of payment — when credit suddenly ceases and 
+only cash payments have validity. At first glance, therefore, the whole crisis seems to be merely a credit 
+and money crisis. And in fact it is only a question of the convertibility of bills of exchange into money. 
+But the majority of these bills represent actual sales and purchases, whose extension far beyond the needs 
+of society is, after all, the basis of the whole crisis. At the same time, an enormous quantity of these bills 
+of exchange represents plain swindle, which now reaches the light of day and collapses; furthermore, 
+unsuccessful speculation with the capital of other people; finally, commodity-capital which has 
+depreciated or is completely unsaleable, or returns that can never more be realised again. The entire 
+artificial system of forced expansion of the reproduction process cannot, of course, be remedied by 
+having some bank, like the Bank of England, give to all the swindlers the deficient capital by means of 
+its paper and having it buy up all the depreciated commodities at their old nominal values. Incidentally, 
+everything here appears distorted, since in this paper world, the real price and its real basis appear 
+nowhere, but only bullion, metal coin, notes, bills of exchange, securities. Particularly in centres where 
+the entire money business of the country is concentrated, like London, does this distortion become 
+apparent; the entire process becomes incomprehensible; it is less so in centres of production. 
+
+Incidentally in connection with the superabundance of industrial capital which appears during crises the 
+following should be noted: commodity-capital is in itself simultaneously money-capital, that is, a definite 
+
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+
+amount of value expressed in the price of the commodities. As use-value it is a definite quantum of 
+objects of utility, and there is a surplus of these available in times of crises. But as money-capital as such, 
+as potential money-capital, it is subject to continual expansion and contraction. On the eve of a crisis, and 
+during it, commodity-capital in its capacity as potential money-capital is contracted. It represents less 
+money-capital for its owner and his creditors (as well as security for bills of exchange and loans) than it 
+did at the time when it was bought and when the discounts and mortgages based on it were transacted. If 
+this is the meaning of the contention that the money-capital of a country is reduced in times of 
+stringency, this is identical with saying that the prices of commodities have fallen. Such a collapse in 
+prices merely balances out their earlier inflation. 
+
+The incomes of the unproductive classes and of those who live on fixed incomes remain in the main 
+stationary during the inflation of prices which goes hand in hand with over-production and 
+over-speculation. Hence their consuming capacity diminishes relatively, and with it their ability to 
+replace that portion of the total reproduction which would normally enter into their consumption. Even 
+when their demand remains nominally the same, it decreases in reality. 
+
+It should be noted in regard to imports and exports, that, one after another, all countries become involved 
+in a crisis and that it then becomes evident that all of them, with few exceptions, have exported and 
+imported too much, so that they all have an unfavourable balance of payments. The trouble, therefore, 
+does not actually lie with the balance of payments. For example, England suffers from a drain of gold. It 
+has imported too much. But at the same time all other countries are over-supplied with English goods. 
+They have thus also imported too much, or have been made to import too much. (There is, indeed, a 
+difference between a country which exports on credit and those which export little or nothing on credit. 
+But the latter then import on credit; and this is only then not the case when commodities are sent to them 
+on consignment.) The crisis may first break out in England, the country which advances most of the 
+credit and takes the least, because the balance of payments, the balance of payments due, which must be 
+settled immediately, is unfavourable, even though the general balance of trade is favourable. This is 
+explained partly as a result of the credit which it has granted, and partly as a result of the huge quantity of 
+capital loaned to foreign countries, so that a large quantity of returns flow back to it in commodities, in 
+addition to the actual trade returns. (However, the crisis has at times first broken out in America, which 
+takes most of the commercial and capital credit from England.) The crash in England, initiated and 
+accompanied by a gold drain, settles England's balance of payments, partly by a bankruptcy of its 
+importers (about which more below), partly by disposing of a portion of its commodity-capital at low 
+prices abroad, and partly by the sale of foreign securities, the purchase of English securities, etc. Now 
+comes the turn of some other country. The balance of payments was momentarily in its favour; but now 
+the time lapse normally existing between the balance of payments and balance of trade has been 
+eliminated or at least reduced by the crisis: all payments are now suddenly supposed to be made at once. 
+The same thing is now repeated here. England now has a return flow of gold, the other country a gold 
+drain. What appears in one country as excessive imports, appears in the other as excessive exports, and 
+vice versa. But over-imports and over-exports have taken place in all countries (we are not speaking here 
+about crop failures, etc., but about a general crisis); that is over-production promoted by credit and the 
+general inflation of prices that goes with it. 
+
+In 1857, the crisis broke out in the United States. A flow of gold from England to America followed. But 
+as soon as the bubble in America burst, the crisis broke out in England and the gold flowed from 
+America to England. The same took place between England and the continent. The balance of payments 
+is in times of general crisis unfavourable to every nation, at least to every commercially developed 
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+
+nation, but always to each country in succession, as in volley firing, i.e., as soon as each one's turn 
+comes for making payments; and once the crisis has broken out, e.g., in England, it compresses the series 
+of these terms into & very short period. It then becomes evident that all these nations have 
+simultaneously over-exported (thus over-produced) and over-imported (thus over-traded), that prices 
+were inflated in all of them, and credit stretched too far. And the same break-down takes place in all of 
+them. The phenomenon of a gold drain then takes place successively in all of them and proves precisely 
+by its general character 1) that gold drain is just a phenomenon of a crisis, not its cause; 2) that the 
+sequence in which it hits the various countries indicates only when their judgement-day has come, i.e., 
+when the crisis started and its latent elements come to the fore there. 
+
+It is characteristic of the English economic writers — and the economic literature worth mentioning since 
+1830 resolves itself mainly into a literature on currency, credit, and crises — that they look upon the 
+export of precious metals in times of crisis, in spite of the turn in the rates of exchange, only from the 
+standpoint of England, as a purely national phenomenon, and resolutely close their eyes to the fact that 
+all other European banks raise their rate of interest when their bank raises its own in times of crisis, and 
+that, when the cry of distress over the drain of gold is raised in their country today, it is taken up in 
+America tomorrow and in Germany and France the day after. 
+
+In 1847, "the engagements running upon this country had to be met" [mostly for corn]. "Unfortunately, 
+they were met to a great extent by failures" [wealthy England secured relief by bankruptcies in its 
+obligations toward the continent and America], "but to the extent to which they were not met by failures, 
+they were met by the exportation of bullion." (Report of Committee on Bank Acts, 1857.) In other words, 
+in so far as a crisis in England is intensified by bank legislation, this legislation is a means of cheating the 
+corn-exporting countries in periods of famine, first on their corn and then on the money for the corn. A 
+prohibition on the export of corn during such periods for countries which are themselves labouring more 
+or less under scarcities, is, therefore, a very rational measure to thwart this plan of the Bank of England 
+to "meet obligations" for corn imports "by bankruptcies." It is after all much better that the corn 
+producers and speculators lose a portion of their profit for the good of their own country than their capital 
+for the good of England. 
+
+It follows from the above that commodity-capital, during crises and during periods of business 
+depression in general, loses to a large extent its capacity to represent potential money-capital. The same 
+is true of fictitious capital, interest-bearing paper, in so far as it circulates on the stock exchange as 
+money-capital. Its price falls with rising interest. It falls, furthermore, as a result of the general shortage 
+of credit, which compels its owners to dump it in large quantities on the market in order to secure money. 
+It falls, finally, in the case of stocks, partly as a result of the decrease in revenues for which it constitutes 
+drafts and partly as a result of the spurious character of the enterprises which it often enough represents. 
+This fictitious money-capital is enormously reduced in times of crisis, and with it the ability of its owners 
+to borrow money on it on the market. However, the reduction of the money equivalents of these 
+securities on the stock exchange list has nothing to do with the actual capital which they represent, but 
+very much indeed with the solvency of their owners. 
+
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+
+FOOTNOTES 
+
+[61 The public fund is nothing but imaginary capital, which represents that portion of the annual revenue, 
+which is set aside to pay the debt. An equivalent amount of capital has been spent; it is this which serves 
+as a denominator for the loan, but it is not this which is represented by the public fund; for the capital no 
+longer exists. New wealth must be created by the work of industry; a portion of this wealth is annually 
+set aside in advance for those who have loaned that wealth which has been spent; this portion is taken by 
+means of taxes from those who produce it, and is given to the creditors of the state, and, according to the 
+customary proportion between capital and interest in the country, an imaginary capital is assumed 
+equivalent to that which could give rise to the annual income which these creditors are to receive. 
+(Sismondi, Nouveaux principes [Seconde edition, Paris, 1827], II, p. 230.) 
+
+JT[ A portion of the accumulated loanable money-capital is indeed merely an expression of industrial 
+capital. For instance, when England, in 1857, had invested 180 million in American railways and other 
+enterprises, this investment was transacted almost completely by the expert of English commodities for 
+which the Americans did not have to make payment in return. The English exporter drew bills of 
+exchange for these commodities on America, which the English stock subscribers bought up and which 
+were sent to America for purchasing the stock subscriptions. 
+
+[8] [As I have already stated elsewhere [English edition: Vol. I. — Ed.], a change has taken place here 
+since the last major general crisis. The acute form of the periodic process with its former ten-year cycle, 
+appears to have given way to a more chronic, long drawn out, alternation between a relatively short and 
+slight business improvement and a relatively long, indecisive depression-taking place in the various 
+industrial countries at different times. But perhaps it is only a matter of a prolongation of the duration of 
+the cycle. In the early years of world commerce, 1845-47, it can be shown that these cycles lasted about 
+five years; from 1847 to 1867 the cycle is clearly ten years; is it possible that we are now in the 
+preparatory stage of a new world crash of unparalleled vehemence? Many things seem to point in this 
+direction. Since the last general crisis of 1867 many profound changes have taken place. The colossal 
+expansion of the means of transportation and communication — ocean liners, railways, electrical 
+telegraphy, the Suez Canal — has made a real world-market a fact. The former monopoly of England in 
+industry has been challenged by a number of competing industrial countries; infinitely greater and varied 
+fields have been opened in all parts of the world for the investment of surplus European capital, so that it 
+is far more widely distributed and local over- speculation may be more easily overcome. By means of all 
+this, most of the old breeding-grounds of crises and opportunities for their development have been 
+eliminated or strongly reduced. At the same time, competition in the domestic market recedes before the 
+cartels and trusts, while in the foreign market it is restricted by protective tariffs, with which all major 
+industrial countries, England excepted, surround themselves. But these protective tariffs are nothing but 
+preparations for the ultimate general industrial war, which shall decide who has supremacy on the 
+world-market. Thus every factor, which works against a repetition of the old crises, carries within itself 
+the germ of a far more' powerful future crisis. — F. E.] 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 31 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch30.htm (12 of 13) [23/08/2000 16:03:18] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 30 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 31 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+PartV 
+
+DIVISION OF PROFIT INTO INTEREST AND PROFIT 
+
+OF ENTERPRISE. 
+
+INTEREST-BEARING CAPITAL 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 31 
+
+
+
+Money Capital and Real Capital 
+
+
+
+We are still not finished with this question: to what extent does the accumulation of capital in the form of 
+loanable money-capital coincide with actual accumulation, i.e., the expansion of the reproduction 
+process. 
+
+The transformation of money into loanable money-capital is a much simpler matter than the 
+transformation of money into productive capital. But two things should be distinguished here: 
+
+1) the mere transformation of money into loan capital; 
+
+2) the transformation of capital or revenue into money, which is transformed into loan capital. 
+
+It is only the latter point which can involve a positive accumulation of loan capital connected with an 
+actual accumulation of industrial capital. 
+
+1. TRANSFORMATION OF MONEY INTO LOAN CAPITAL 
+
+We have already seen that a large build-up or surplus of loan capital can occur, which is connected with 
+productive accumulation only to the extent that it is inversely proportional to it. This is the case in two 
+phases of the industrial cycle, namely, first, when industrial capital in both its forms of productive and 
+commodity-capital is contracted, i.e., at the beginning of the cycle after the crisis; and, secondly, when 
+the improvement begins, but when commercial credit still does not use bank credit to a great extent. In 
+the first case, money-capital, which was formerly employed in production and commerce, appears as idle 
+loan capital; in the second case, it appears used to an increasing extent, but at a very low rate of interest, 
+because the industrial and commercial capitalists now prescribe terms to the money-capitalist. The 
+surplus of loan capital expresses, in the first case, a stagnation of industrial capital, and in the second, a 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 31 
+
+relative independence of commercial credit from banking credit-based on the fluidity of the returns, 
+short-term credit, and a preponderance of operations with one's own capital. The speculators, who count 
+on the credit capital of other people, have not yet appeared on the field; the people who work with their 
+own capital are still far removed from approximately pure credit operations. In the former phase, the 
+surplus of loan capital is directly opposite to expressing actual accumulation. In the second phase, it 
+coincides with a renewed expansion of the reproduction process-it accompanies it, but is not its cause. 
+The surplus of loan capital is already decreasing, i.e., it is still only relative compared to the demand. In 
+both cases, the expansion of the actual process of accumulation is promoted by the fact that the low 
+interest-which coincides in the first case with low prices and in the second, with slowly rising 
+prices-increases that portion of the profit which is transformed into profit of enterprise. This takes place 
+to an even greater extent when interest rises to its average level during the height of the period of 
+prosperity, when it has indeed grown, but not relative to profit. 
+
+We have seen, on the other hand, that an accumulation of loan capital can take place without any actual 
+accumulation, i.e., by mere technical means such as an expansion and concentration of the banking 
+system; and a saving in the circulation reserve, or in the reserve fund of private means of payment, which 
+are then always transformed into loan capital for a short time. Although this loan capital, which, for this 
+reason, is also called floating capital, always retains the form of loan capital only for short periods of 
+time (and should indeed also be used for discounting only for short periods of time), there is a continual 
+ebb and flow of it. If one draws some away, another adds to it. The mass of loanable money-capital thus 
+grows quite independently of the actual accumulation (we are not speaking here at all about loans for a 
+number of years but only of short-term ones on bills of exchange and deposits). 
+
+Bank Committee, 1857. Question 501. "What do you mean by 'floating capital'?"-[Answer of Mr. 
+Weguelin, Governor of the Bank of England:] "It is capital applicable to loans of money for short 
+periods... (502) The Bank of England notes... the country banks circulation, and the amount of coin 
+which is in the country."- [Question:] "It does not appear from the returns before the Committee, if by 
+floating capital you mean the active circulation" [of the notes of the Bank of England], "that there is any 
+very great variation in the active circulation?" [But there is a very great difference whether this active 
+circulation is advanced by the money-lender or by the reproductive capitalist himself. Weguelin' s 
+answer:] "I include in floating capital the reserves of the bankers, in which there is a considerable 
+fluctuation. "-That is to say, there is considerable fluctuation in that portion of the deposits which the 
+bankers have not loaned out again, but which figures as their reserve and for the greater part also as the 
+reserve of the Bank of England, where they are deposited. Finally, the same gentleman says: floating 
+capital may be bullion, that is, bar and coin (503).-It is truly wonderful how in this credit gibberish of the 
+money-market all categories of political economy receive a different meaning and a different form. 
+Floating capital is the expression there for circulating capital, which is, of course, something quite 
+different, and money is capital, and bullion is capital, and bank-notes are circulation, and capital is a 
+commodity, and debts are commodities, and fixed capital is money invested in hard-to-sell paper! 
+
+"The joint-stock banks of London... have increased their deposits from £8,850,774 in 1847 to 
+£43,100,724 in 1857... The evidence given to your Committee leads to the inference that of this vast 
+amount, a large part has been derived from sources not heretofore made available for this purpose; and 
+that the practice of opening accounts and depositing money with bankers has extended to numerous 
+classes who did not formerly employ their capital (!) in that way. It is stated by Mr. Rodwell, the 
+Chairman of the Association of the Private Country Bankers" [distinguished from joint-stock banks], 
+"and delegated by them to give evidence to your Committee, that in the neighbourhood of Ipswich this 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 31 
+
+practice has lately increased four-fold among the farmers and shopkeepers of that district; that almost 
+every farmer, even those paying only £50 per annum rent, now keeps deposits with bankers. The 
+aggregate of these deposits of course finds its way to the employments of trade, and especially gravitates 
+to London, the centre of commercial activity, where it is employed first in the discount of bills, or in 
+other advances to the customers of the London bankers. That large portion, however, for which the 
+bankers themselves have no immediate demand passes into the hands of the bill-brokers, who give to the 
+banker in return commercial bills already discounted by them for persons in London and in different 
+parts of the country, as a security for the sum advanced by the banker." (Bank Committee, 1858, p. V.) 
+
+By making advances to the bill-broker on bills of exchange which this broker has already discounted 
+once, the banker does, in fact, rediscount them; but in reality, very many of these bills have already been 
+rediscounted by the bill-broker, and with the same money that the banker uses to rediscount the bills of 
+the bill-broker, the latter rediscounts new bills. What this leads to is shown by the following: "Extensive 
+fictitious credits have been created by means of accommodation bills, and open credits, great facilities 
+for which have been afforded by the practice of joint-stock country banks discounting such bills, and 
+rediscounting them with the bill-brokers in the London market, upon the credit of the bank alone, without 
+reference to the quality of the bills otherwise" (loc. cit., p. XXI). 
+
+Concerning this rediscounting and the assistance which this purely technical increase of loanable 
+money-capital gives to credit swindles, the following extract from the Economist is of interest: "For some 
+years past capital" [namely, loanable money-capital] "has accumulated in some districts of the country 
+more rapidly than it could be used, while, in others, the means of employing capital have increased more 
+rapidly than the capital itself. While the bankers in the purely agricultural districts throughout the 
+kingdom found no sufficient means of profitably and safely employing their deposits in their own 
+districts, those in the large mercantile towns, and in the manufacturing and mining districts, have found a 
+larger demand for capital than their own means could supply. The effect of this relative state of different 
+districts has led, of late years, to the establishment and rapid extension of a new class of houses in the 
+distribution of capital, who, though usually called bill-brokers, are in reality bankers upon an immense 
+scale. The business of these houses has been to receive, for such periods, and at such rates of interest as 
+were agreed upon, the surplus-capital of bankers in those districts where it could not be employed, as 
+well as the temporary unemployed moneys of public companies and extensive mercantile establishments, 
+and advance them at higher rates of interest to banker in those districts where capital was more in 
+demand, generally by rediscounting the bills taken from their customers... and in this way Lombard 
+Street has become the great centre in which the transfer of spare capital has been made from one part of 
+the country, where it could not be profitably employed, to another, where a demand existed for it, as well 
+as between individuals similarly circumstanced. At first these transactions were confined almost 
+exclusively to borrowing and lending on banking securities. But as the capital of the country rapidly 
+accumulated, and became more economised by the establishment of banks, the funds at the disposal of 
+these 'discount houses' became so large that they were induced to make advances first on dock warrants 
+of merchandise (storage bills on commodities in docks), and next on bills of lading, representing produce 
+not even arrived in this country, though sometimes, if not generally, secured by bills drawn by the 
+merchant upon his broker. This practice rapidly changed the whole character of English commerce. The 
+facilities thus afforded in Lombard Street gave extensive powers to the brokers in Mincing Lane, who on 
+their part... offered the full advantage of them to the importing merchant; who so far took advantage of 
+them, that, whereas 25 years ago, the fact that a merchant received advances on his bills of lading, or 
+even his dock warrants, would have been fatal to his credit, the practice has become so common of late 
+
+
+
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+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 31 
+
+years that it may be said to be now the general rule, and not the rare exception, as it was 25 years ago. 
+Nay, so much further has this system been carried, that large sums have been raised in Lombard Street on 
+bills drawn against the forthcoming crops of distant colonies. The consequence of such facilities being 
+thus granted to the importing merchants led them to extend their transactions abroad, and to invest their 
+floating capital with which their business has hitherto been conducted, in the most objectionable of all 
+fixed securities-foreign plantations-over which they could exercise little or no control. And thus we see 
+the direct change of credit through which the capital of the country, collected in our rural districts, and in 
+small amounts in the shape of deposits in country banks, and centres in Lombard Street for employment, 
+has been, first, made available for the extending operations in our mining and manufacturing districts, by 
+the rediscount of bills to banks in those localities; next, for granting greater facilities for the importation 
+of foreign produce by advances upon dock warrants and bills of lading, and thus liberating the 'legitimate' 
+mercantile capital of houses engaged in foreign and colonial trade, and inducing to its most objectionable 
+advances on foreign plantations." (Economist, November 20, 1847, p. 1334.) This is how credits are 
+"nicely" devoured. The rural depositor fancies that he deposits only with his banker, and fancies 
+furthermore that when his banker lends to others, it is done to private persons whom he knows. He has 
+not the slightest suspicion that this banker places his deposit at the disposal of some London bill-broker, 
+over whose operations neither of them have the slightest control. 
+
+We have already seen how large public enterprises, such as railways, may momentarily increase loan 
+capital, owing to the circumstance that the deposited amounts always remain at the disposal of the 
+bankers for a certain length of time until they are really used. 
+
+
+
+Incidentally, the mass of loan capital is quite different from the quantity of circulation. By the quantity of 
+circulation we mean here the sum of all the bank-notes and coin, including bars of precious metals, 
+existing and circulating in a country. A portion of this quantity constitutes the reserve of the banks which 
+continuously vary in magnitude. 
+
+"On November 12, 1857" [the date of the suspension of the Bank Act of 1844], "the entire reserve of the 
+Bank of England was only £580,751 (including London and all its branches); their deposits at the same 
+time amounting to £22,500,000; of which near six and a half million belonged to London bankers. " 
+(Bank Acts, 1858, p. LVII.) 
+
+The variations in the interest rate (aside from those occurring over longer periods or the variation in the 
+interest rate among various countries; the former are dependent upon variations in the general rate of 
+profit, the latter on differences in the rates of profit and in the development of credit) depend upon the 
+supply of loan capital (all other circumstances, state of confidence, etc being equal), that is, of capital 
+loaned in the form of money, coin and notes; in contradistinction to industrial capital, which, as such-in 
+commodity-form-is loaned by means of commercial credit among the agents of reproduction themselves. 
+
+However, the mass of this loanable money-capital is different from, and independent of, the mass of 
+circulating money. 
+
+For example, if £20 were loaned five times per day, a money-capital of £100 would be loaned, and this 
+would imply at the same time that this £20 would have served, moreover, at least four times as a means 
+of purchase or payment; for, if no purchase and payment intervened-so that it would not have represented 
+at least four times the converted form of capital (commodities, including labour-power)-it would not 
+constitute a capital of £100, but only five claims of £20 each. 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 31 
+
+In countries with a developed credit, we can assume that all money-capital available for lending exists in 
+the form of deposits with banks and money-lenders. This is at least true for business as a whole. 
+Moreover, in times of flourishing business, before the real speculation gets underway- when credit is easy 
+and confidence is growing-most of the functions of circulation are settled by a simple transfer of credit, 
+without the help of coin or paper money. 
+
+The mere possibility of large sums of deposits existing when a relatively small quantum of a medium of 
+circulation is available, depends solely on: 
+
+1) the number of purchases and payments which the same coin performs; 
+
+2) the number of return excursions, whereby it goes back to the banks as deposits, so that its repeated 
+function as a means of purchase and payment is promoted through its renewed transformation into 
+deposits. For example, a small dealer deposits weekly with his banker £100 in money; the banker pays 
+out a portion of the deposit of a manufacturer with this; the latter pays it to his workers; and the workers 
+use it to pay the small dealer, who deposits it in the bank again. The £100 deposited by this small dealer 
+have served, therefore, first, to pay the manufacturer a deposit of his; secondly, to pay the workers; 
+thirdly, to pay the dealer himself; fourthly, to deposit another portion of the money-capital of the same 
+small dealer; thus at the end of twenty weeks, if he himself did not have to draw against this money, he 
+would have deposited £2,000 in the bank by means of the same £100. 
+
+To what extent this money-capital is idle, is shown only by the ebb and flow in the reserve fund of the 
+banks. Therefore, Mr. Weguelin, Governor of the Bank of England in 1857, concludes that the gold of 
+the Bank of England is the "only" reserve capital: "1258. Practically, I think, the rate of discount is 
+governed by the amount of unemployed capital which there is in the country. The amount of unemployed 
+capital is represented by the reserve of the Bank of England, which is practically a reserve of bullion. 
+When, therefore, the bullion is drawn upon, it diminishes the amount of unemployed capital in the 
+country, and consequently raises the value of that which remains. "-[Newmarch] "1364. The reserve of 
+bullion in the Bank of England is, in truth, the central reserve, or hoard of treasure, upon which the whole 
+trade of the country is carried on... And it is upon that hoard or reservoir that the action of the foreign 
+exchanges always falls." (Report on Bank Acts, 1857 [PP. 108, 119].) 
+
+
+
+The statistics of exports and imports furnish a measure of the accumulation of real, i.e., productive and 
+commodity-capital. These always show that, during the ten-year cyclical periods of development of 
+British industry (1815 to 1870), the maximum of the last prosperity before the crisis always reappears as 
+the minimum of the following prosperity, whereupon it rises to a new and far higher peak. 
+
+The actual or declared value of the exported products from Great Britain and Ireland in the prosperity 
+year of 1824 was £40,396,300. With the crisis of 1825, the amount of exports then falls below this sum 
+and fluctuates between 35 and 39 million annually. With the return of prosperity in 1834, it rises above 
+the former maximum to £41,649,191, and reaches in 1836 the new maximum of £53,368,571. Beginning 
+with 1837, it falls again to 42 million, so that the new minimum is already higher than the old maximum, 
+and then fluctuates between 50 and 53 million. The return of prosperity lifts the amount of exports in 
+1844 to £58,500,000, whereby the peak of 1836 is again already far exceeded. In 1845, it reaches 
+£60,1 1 1,082; it then falls to something over 57 million in 1846, reaches in 1847 almost 59 million, in 
+1848 almost 53 million, rises in 1849 to 63,500,000, in 1853 to nearly 99 million, in 1854 to 97 million, 
+in 1855 to 94,500,000, in 1856 almost 1 16 million and reaches a peak of 122 million in 1857. It falls in 
+
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+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 31 
+
+1858 to 1 16 million, rises already in 1859 to 130 million, in 1860 to nearly 136 million, in 1861 only 125 
+million (the new low is here again higher than the former peak), in 1863 to 146,500,000. 
+
+Of course, the same thing could be demonstrated in the case of imports, which shows the expansion of 
+the market; here it is only a matter of the scale of production. [Of course, this holds true of England only 
+for the time of its actual industrial monopoly; but it applies in general to the whole complex of countries 
+with modern large-scale industries, as long as the world-market is still expanding.-F. E.] 
+
+2. TRANSFORMATION OF CAPITAL OR REVENUE INTO MONEY THAT IS 
+TRANSFORMED INTO LOAN CAPITAL 
+
+We will consider here the accumulation of money-capital, in so far as it is not an expression either of a 
+stoppage in the flow of commercial credit or of an economy- whether it be an economy in the actual 
+circulating medium or in the reserve capital of the agents engaged in reproduction. 
+
+Aside from these two cases, an accumulation of money-capital can arise through an unusual inflow of 
+gold, as in 1852 and 1853 as a result of the new Australian and Californian gold mines. This gold was 
+deposited in the Bank of England. The depositors received notes for it, which they did not directly 
+redeposit with bankers. By this means the Circulating medium was unusually increased. (Testimony of 
+Weguelin, Bank Committee, 1857, No. 1329.) The Bank strove to utilise these deposits by lowering its 
+discount to 2%. The mass of gold accumulated in the Bank rose during six months of 1853 to 22-23 
+million. 
+
+The accumulation of all money-lending capitalists naturally always takes place directly in money-form, 
+whereas we have seen that the actual accumulation of industrial capitalists is accomplished, as a rule, by 
+an increase in the elements of reproductive capital itself. Hence, the development of the credit system 
+and the enormous concentration of the money-lending business in the hands of large banks must, by 
+themselves alone, accelerate the accumulation of loanable capital, as a form distinct from actual 
+accumulation. This rapid development of loan capital is, therefore, a result of actual accumulation, for it 
+is a consequence of the development of the reproduction process, and the profit which forms the source 
+of accumulation for these money-capitalists is only a deduction from the surplus-value which the 
+reproductive ones filch (and it is at the same time the appropriation of a portion of the interest from the 
+savings of others). Loan capital accumulates at the expense of both the industrial and commercial 
+capitalists. We have seen that in the unfavourable phases of the industrial cycle the rate of interest may 
+rise so high that it temporarily consumes the whole profit of some lines of business which are particularly 
+handicapped. At the same time, prices of government and other securities fall. It is at such times that the 
+money-capitalists buy this depreciated paper in huge quantities which in the later phases soon regains its 
+former level and rises above it. It is then sold again and a portion of the money-capital of the public is 
+thus appropriated. That portion which is not sold yields a higher interest because it was bought below 
+par. But the money-capitalists convert all profits made, end reconverted by them into capital, first into 
+loanable money-capital. The accumulation of the latter-as distinct from the actual accumulation, although 
+its offshoot-thus takes place, even when we consider only the money-capitalists, bankers, etc., by 
+themselves, as an accumulation of this particular class of capitalists. And it must grow with every 
+expansion of the credit system which accompanies the actual expansion of the reproduction process. 
+
+If the interest rate is low, this depreciation of the money-capital falls principally upon the depositors, not 
+upon the banks. Before the development of stock banks, three-fourths of all the deposits in England lay 
+in the banks without yielding interest. While interest is now paid on them, it amounts to at least 1% less 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 31 
+
+than the current rate of interest. 
+
+As for the money accumulation of the other classes of capitalists, we disregard that portion of it which is 
+invested in interest-bearing paper and accumulates in this form. We consider only that portion which is 
+thrown upon the market as loanable money-capital. 
+
+In the first place, we have here that portion of the profit which is not spent as revenue, but is set aside for 
+accumulation-for which, however, the industrial capitalists have no use in their own business at the 
+moment. This profit exists directly in commodity-capital, a part of whose value it constitutes, and along 
+with which it is realised in money. Now, if it is not reconverted into the production elements of 
+commodity-capital (we leave out of consideration for the present the merchant, whom we shall discuss 
+separately), it must remain for a length of time in the form of money. This amount increases with the 
+amount of capital itself, even when the rate of profit declines. That portion which is to be spent as 
+revenue is gradually consumed, but, in the meantime, as deposits, it constitutes loan capital with the 
+banker. Thus, even the growth of that portion of profit which is spent as revenue expresses itself as a 
+gradual and continually repeated accumulation of loan capital. The same is true of the other portion, 
+which is intended for accumulation. Therefore, with the development of the credit system and its 
+organisation, even an increase in revenue, i.e., the consumption of the industrial and commercial 
+capitalists, expresses itself as an accumulation of loan capital. And this holds true for all revenues so far 
+as they are consumed gradually, in other words, for ground-rent, wages in their higher form, incomes of 
+unproductive classes, etc. All of them assume for a certain time the form of money revenue and are, 
+therefore, convertible into deposits and thus into loan capital. All revenue-whether it be intended for 
+consumption or accumulation-as long as it exists in some form of money, is a part of the value of 
+commodity-capital transformed into money, and is, for this reason, an expression and result of actual 
+accumulation, but is not productive capital itself. When a spinner has exchanged his yarn for cotton-that 
+portion which constitutes revenue however for money, the real existence of his industrial capital is the 
+yarn, which has passed into the hands of the weaver or, perhaps, of some private consumer, and the yarn 
+is, in fact, the existence- whether it is for reproduction or consumption-of the capital- value as well as the 
+surplus-value contained in it. The magnitude of the surplus-value transformed into money depends upon 
+the magnitude of the surplus-value contained in the yarn. But as soon as it has been transformed into 
+money, this money is only the value existence of this surplus-value. And as such it becomes a moment of 
+loan capital. For this purpose, nothing more is required than that it be transformed into a deposit, if it has 
+not already been loaned out by its owner. But in order to be retransformed into productive capital, it 
+must, on the other hand, already have reached a certain minimum limit. 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 32 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch31.htm (7 of 7) [23/08/2000 16:03:22] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 32 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+PartV 
+
+DIVISION OF PROFIT INTO INTEREST AND PROFIT 
+
+OF ENTERPRISE. 
+
+INTEREST-BEARING CAPITAL 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 32 
+
+
+
+Money Capital and Real Capital 
+
+
+
+The mass of money to be transformed back into capital in this manner is a result of the enormous 
+reproduction process, but considered by itself, as loanable money-capital, it is not itself a mass of 
+reproductive capital. 
+
+The most important point of our presentation so far is that the expansion of the part of the revenue 
+intended for consumption (leaving out of consideration the worker, because his revenue is equal to the 
+variable capital) shows itself at first as an accumulation of money-capital. A factor, therefore, enters into 
+the accumulation of money-capital that is essentially different from the actual accumulation of industrial 
+capital; for the portion of the annual product which is intended for consumption does not by any means 
+become capital. A portion of it replaces capital, i.e., the constant capital of the producers of means of 
+consumption, but to the extent that it is actually transformed into capital, it exists in the natural form of 
+the revenue of the producers of this constant capital. The same money, which represents the revenue and 
+serves merely for the promotion of consumption, is regularly transformed into loanable money-capital for 
+a period of time. In so far as this money represents wages, it is at the same time the money-form of the 
+variable capital; and in so far as it replaces the constant capital of the producers of means of 
+consumption, it is the money-form temporarily assumed by their constant capital and serves to purchase 
+the components of their constant capital to be replaced in kind. Neither in the one nor in the other form 
+does it express in itself accumulation, although its quantity increases with the growth of the reproduction 
+process. But it performs temporarily the function of loanable money, i.e., of money-capital. In this 
+respect, therefore, the accumulation of money-capital must always reflect a greater accumulation of 
+capital than actually exists, owing to the fact that the extension of individual consumption, because it is 
+promoted by means of money, appears as an accumulation of money-capital, since it furnishes the 
+money-form for actual accumulation, i.e., for money which permits new investments of capital. 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 32 
+
+Thus, the accumulation of loanable money-capital expresses in part only the fact that all money into 
+which industrial capital is transformed in the course of its circuit assumes the form not of money 
+advanced by the reproductive capitalists, but of money borrowed by them; so that indeed the advance of 
+money that must take place in the reproduction process appears as an advance of borrowed money. In 
+fact, on the basis of commercial credit, one person lends to another the money required for the 
+reproduction process. But this now assumes the following form: the banker, who receives the money as a 
+loan from one group of the reproductive capitalists, lends it to another group of reproductive capitalists, 
+so that the banker appears in the role of a supreme benefactor; and at the same time, the control over this 
+capital falls completely into the hands of the banker in his capacity as middleman. 
+
+A few special forms of accumulation of money-capital still remain to be mentioned. For example, capital 
+is released by a fall in the price of the elements of production, raw materials, etc. If the industrial 
+capitalist cannot expand his reproduction process immediately, a portion of his money-capital is expelled 
+from the circuit as superfluous and is transformed into loanable money-capital. Secondly, however, 
+capital in the form of money is released especially by the merchant, whenever interruptions in his 
+business take place. If the merchant has completed a series of transactions and cannot begin a new series 
+because of such interruptions until later, the money realised represents for him only a hoard, 
+surplus-capital. But at the same time, it represents a direct accumulation of loanable money-capital. In 
+the first case, the accumulation of money-capital expresses a repetition of the reproduction process under 
+more favourable conditions, an actual release of a portion of formerly tied-up capital; in other words, an 
+opportunity for expanding the reproduction process with the same amount of money. But in the other 
+case, it expresses merely an interruption in the flow of transactions. However, in both cases it is 
+converted into loanable money-capital, represents its accumulation, influences equally the money-market 
+and the rate of interest — although it expresses a promotion of the actual accumulation process in one 
+case and its obstruction in the other. Finally, accumulation of money-capital is influenced by the number 
+of people who have feathered their nests and have withdrawn from reproduction. Their number increases 
+as more profits are made in the course of the industrial cycle. In this case, the accumulation of loanable 
+money-capital expresses, on the one hand, an actual accumulation (in accordance with its relative extent), 
+and, on the other hand, only the extent of the transformation of the industrial capitalists into mere 
+money-capitalists . 
+
+As for the other portion of profit, which is not intended to be consumed as revenue, it is converted into 
+money-capital only when it is not immediately able to find a place for investment in the expansion of 
+business ill the productive sphere in which it has been made. This may be due to two causes. Either 
+because this sphere of production is saturated with capital, or because accumulation must first reach a 
+certain volume before it can serve as capital, depending on the investment magnitudes of new capital 
+required in this particular sphere. Hence it is converted for a while into loanable money-capital and 
+serves in the expansion of production in other spheres. Assuming all other conditions being equal, the 
+quantity of profits intended for transformation back into capital will depend on the quantity of profits 
+made and thus on the extension of the reproduction process itself. But if this new accumulation meets 
+with difficulties in its employment, through a lack of spheres for investment, i.e., due to a surplus in the 
+branches of production and an over-supply of loan capital, this plethora of loanable money-capital 
+merely shows the limitations of capitalist production. The subsequent credit swindle proves that no real 
+obstacle stands in the way of the employment of this surplus-capital. However, an obstacle is indeed 
+immanent in its laws of expansion, i.e., in the limits in which capital can realise itself as capital. A 
+plethora of money-capital as such does not necessarily indicate over-production, not even a shortage of 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 32 
+
+spheres of investment for capital. 
+
+The accumulation of loan capital consists simply in the fact that money is precipitated as loanable 
+money. This process is very different from an actual transformation into capital; it is merely the 
+accumulation of money in a form in which it can be transformed into capital. But this accumulation can 
+reflect, as we have shown, events which are greatly different from actual accumulation. As long as actual 
+accumulation is continually expanding, this extended accumulation of money-capital may be partly its 
+result, partly the result of circumstances which accompany it but are quite different from it, and, finally, 
+even partly the result of impediments to actual accumulation. If for no other reason than that 
+accumulation of loan capital is inflated by such circumstances, which are independent of actual 
+accumulation but nevertheless accompany, it, there must be a continuous plethora of money-capital in 
+definite phases of the cycle and this plethora must develop with the expansion of credit. And 
+simultaneously with it, the necessity of driving the production process beyond its capitalistic limits must 
+also develop: over-trade, over-production, and excessive credit. At the same time, this must always take 
+place in forms that call forth a reaction. 
+
+As far as accumulation of money-capital from ground-rent, wages, etc., is concerned, it is not necessary 
+to discuss that matter here. Only one aspect should be emphasised and that is that the business of actual 
+saving and abstinence (by hoarders), to the extent that it furnishes elements of accumulation,, is left by 
+the division of labour, which comes with the progress of capitalist production, to those who receive the 
+minimum of such elements, and who frequently enough lose even their savings, as do the labourers when 
+banks fail. On the one hand, the capital of the industrial capitalist is not "saved" by himself, but he has 
+command of the savings of others in proportion to the magnitude of his capital; on the other hand, the 
+money-capitalist makes of the savings of others his own capital, and of the credit, which the reproductive 
+capitalists give to one another and which the public gives to them, a private source for enriching himself. 
+The last illusion of the capitalist system, that capital is the fruit of one's own labour and savings, is 
+thereby destroyed. Not only does profit consist in the appropriation of other people's labour, but the 
+capital, with which this labour of others is set in motion and exploited, consists of other people's 
+property, which the money-capitalist places at the disposal of the industrial capitalists, and for which he 
+in turn exploits the latter. 
+
+A few remarks remain to be made about credit capital. 
+
+How often the same piece of money can figure as loan capital, wholly depends, as we have already 
+previously shown, on: 
+
+1) how often it realises commodity- values in sale or payment, thus transfers capital, and furthermore how 
+often it realises revenue. How often it gets into other hands as realised value, either of capital or of 
+revenue, obviously depends, therefore, on the extent and magnitude of the actual transactions; 
+
+2) this depends on the economy of payments and the development and organisation of the credit system; 
+
+3) finally, the concatenation and velocity of action of credits, so that when a deposit is made at one point 
+it immediately starts off as a loan at another. 
+
+Even assuming that the form in which loan capital exists is exclusively that of real money, gold or silver 
+— the commodity whose substance serves as a measure of value — a large portion of this money-capital is 
+always necessarily purely fictitious, that is, a title to value — just as paper money. In so far as money 
+functions in the circuit of capital, it constitutes indeed, for a moment, money-capital; but it does not 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 32 
+
+transform itself into loanable money-capital; it is rather exchanged for the elements of productive capital, 
+or paid out as a medium of circulation in the realisation of revenue, and cannot, therefore, transform itself 
+into loan capital for its owner. But in so far as it is transformed into loan capital, and the same money 
+repeatedly represents loan capital, it is evident that it exists only at one point in the form of metallic 
+money; at all other points it exists only in the form of claims to capital. With the assumption made, the 
+accumulation of these claims arises from actual accumulation, that is, from the transformation of the 
+value of commodity-capital, etc., into money; but nevertheless the accumulation of these claims or titles 
+as such differs from the actual accumulation from which it arises, as well as from the future accumulation 
+(the new production process), which is promoted by the lending of this money. 
+
+Prima facie loan capital always exists in the form of money ,[9] later as a claim to money, since the 
+money in which it originally exists is now in the hands of the borrower in actual money-form. For the 
+lender it has been transformed into a claim to money, into a title of ownership. The same mass of actual 
+money can, therefore, represent very different masses of money-capital. Mere money, whether it 
+represents realised capital or realised revenue, becomes loan capital through the simple act of lending, 
+through its transformation into a deposit, if we consider the general form in a developed credit system. 
+The deposit is money-capital for the depositor. But in the hands of the banker it may be only potential 
+money-capital, which lies idle in his safe instead of in its owner's. [10] With the growth of material 
+wealth the class of money-capitalists grows; on the one hand, the number and the wealth of retiring 
+capitalists, rentiers, increases; and on the other hand, the development of the credit system is promoted, 
+thereby increasing the number of bankers, money-lenders, financiers, etc. With the development of the 
+available money-capital, the quantity of interest-bearing paper, government securities, stocks, etc., also 
+grows as we have previously shown. However, at the same time the demand for available money-capital 
+also grows, the jobbers, who speculate with this paper, playing a prominent role on the money-market. If 
+all the purchases and sales of this paper were only an expression of actual investments of capital, it 
+would be correct to say that they could have no influence on the demand for loan capital, since when A 
+sells his paper, he draws exactly as much money as B puts into the paper. But even if the paper itself 
+exists though not the capital (at least not as money-capital) originally represented by it, it always creates 
+pro tanto a new demand for such money-capital. But at any rate it is then money-capital, which was 
+previously at the disposal of B but is now at the disposal of A. 
+
+B. A. 1857. No. 4886. "Do you consider that it is a correct description of the causes which determined 
+the rate of discount, to say that it is fixed by the quantity of capital on the market, which is applicable to 
+the discount of mercantile bills, as distinguished from other classes of securities?" — [Chapman:] "No, I 
+think that the question of interest is affected by all convertible securities of a current character; it would 
+be wrong to limit it simply to the discount of bills, because it would be absurd to say that when there is a 
+great demand for money upon [the deposit of] consols, or even upon Exchequer bills, as has ruled very 
+much of late, at a rate much higher than the commercial rate, our commercial world is not affected by it; 
+it is very materially affected by it.',- "4890. When sound and current securities, such as bankers 
+acknowledge to be so, are on the market, and people want to borrow money upon them, it certainly has 
+its effect upon commercial bills; for instance, I can hardly expect a man to let me have money at 5% 
+upon commercial bills, if he can lend his money at the same moment at 6% upon consols, or whatever it 
+may be; it affects us in the same manner; a man can hardly expect me to discount bills at 5 1/2%, if I can 
+lend my money at 6%." — "4892. We do not talk of investors who buy their £2,000, or £5,000, or 
+£40,000, as affecting the money-market materially. If you ask me as to the rate of interest upon [a deposit 
+of] consols, I allude to people, who deal in hundreds of thousands of pounds, who are what are called 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 32 
+
+jobbers, who take large portions of loans, or make purchases on the market, and have to hold that stock 
+till the public take it off their hands at a profit; these men, therefore, want money." 
+
+With the development of the credit system; great concentrated money-markets are created, such as 
+London, which are at the same time the main seats of trade in this paper. The bankers place huge 
+quantities of the public's money-capital at the disposal of this unsavoury crowd of dealers, and thus this 
+brood of gamblers multiplies. "Money upon the Stock Exchange is, generally speaking, cheaper than it is 
+elsewhere," says James Morris the incumbent of the Governor's chair of the Bank of England in 1848 
+before the Secret Committee of Lords (C. D. 1848, printed 1857, No. 219). 
+
+In the discussion on interest-bearing capital, we have already shown that the average interest over a long 
+period of years, other conditions remaining equal, is determined by the average rate of profit; not profit 
+of enterprise, which is nothing more than profit minus interest. [Present edition: Ch. XXII. — Ed.] 
+
+It has also been mentioned, and will be further analysed in another place, that also for the variations in 
+commercial interest, that is, interest calculated by the money-lenders for discounts and loans within the 
+commercial world, a phase is reached, in the course of the industrial cycle, in which the rate of interest 
+exceeds its minimum and reaches its mean level (which it exceeds later) and that this movement is a 
+result of a rise in profits. 
+
+In the meantime, two things are to be noted here. 
+
+First : When the rate of interest stays up for a long time (we are speaking here of the rate of interest in a 
+given country like England, where the average rate of interest is given over a lengthy period of time, and 
+also shows itself in the interest paid on long-term loans-what could be called private interest), it is prima 
+facie proof that the rate of profit is high during this period, but it does not prove necessarily that the rate 
+of profit of enterprise is high. This latter distinction is more or less removed for capitalists, who operate 
+mainly with their own capital; they realise the high rate of profit, since they pay the interest to 
+themselves. The possibility of a high rate of interest of long duration is present when the rate of profit is 
+high; this does not refer, however, to the phase of actual squeeze. But it is possible that this high rate of 
+profit may leave only a low rate of profit of enterprise, after the high rate of interest has been deducted. 
+The rate of profit of enterprise may shrink, while the high rate of profit continues. This is possible 
+because the enterprises must be continued, once they have been started. During this phase, operations are 
+carried on to a large extent with pure credit capital (capital of other people); and the high rate of profit 
+may be partly speculative and prospective. A high rate of interest can be paid with a high rate of profit 
+but decreasing profit of enterprise. It can be paid (and this is done in part during times of speculation), 
+not out of the profit, but out of the borrowed capital itself, and this can continue for a while. 
+
+Secondly: The statement that the demand for money-capital, and therefore the rate of interest, grows, 
+because the rate of profit is high, is not identical with the statement that the demand for industrial capital 
+grows and therefore the rate of interest is high. 
+
+In times of crisis, the demand for loan capital, and therefore the rate of interest, reaches its maximum; the 
+rate of profit, and with it the demand for industrial capital, has to all intents and purposes disappeared. 
+During such times, everyone borrows only for the purpose of paying, in order to settle previously 
+contracted obligations. On the other hand, in times of renewed activity after a crisis, loan capital is 
+demanded for the purpose of buying and for the purpose of transforming money-capital into productive 
+or commercial capital. And then it is demanded either by the industrial capitalist or the merchant. The 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 32 
+
+industrial capitalist invests it in means of production and in labour-power. 
+
+The rising demand for labour-power can never by itself be a cause for a rising rate of interest, in so far as 
+the latter is determined by the rate of profit. Higher wages are never a cause for higher profits, although 
+they may be one of the consequences of higher profits during some particular phases of the industrial 
+cycle. 
+
+The demand for labour-power can increase because the exploitation of labour takes place under 
+especially favourable circumstances, but the rising demand for labour-power, and thus for variable 
+capital, does not in itself increase the profit; it, on the contrary, lowers it pro tanto. But the demand for 
+variable capital can nevertheless increase at the same time, thus also the demand for money-capital — 
+which can raise the rate of interest. The market-price of labour-power then rises above its average, more 
+than the average number of labourers are employed, and the rate of interest rises at the same time 
+because under such circumstances the demand for money-capital rises. The rising demand for 
+labour-power raises the price of this commodity, as every other, increases its price; but not the profit, 
+which depends mainly upon the relative cheapness of this commodity in particular. But it raises at the 
+same time — under the assumed conditions — the rate of interest, because it increases the demand for 
+money-capital. If the money-capitalist, instead of lending the money, should transform himself into an 
+industrial capitalist, the fact that he has to pay more for labour-power would not increase his profit but 
+would rather decrease it correspondingly. The state of business may be such that his profit may 
+nevertheless rise, but it would never be so because he pays more for labour. The latter circumstance, in 
+so far as it increases the demand for money-capital, is, however, sufficient to raise the rate of interest. If 
+wages should rise for some reason during an otherwise unfavourable state of business, the rise in wages 
+would lower the rate of profit, but raise the rate of interest to the extent that it increased the demand for 
+money-capital. 
+
+Leaving labour aside, the thing called "demand for capital" by Overstone consists only in a demand for 
+commodities. The demand for commodities raises their price, either because it rises above average, or 
+because the supply of commodities falls below average. If the industrial capitalist or merchant must now 
+pay, e.g., £150 for the same amount of commodities for which he used to pay £100, he would now have 
+to borrow £150 instead of the former £100, and if the rate of interest were 5%, he would now have to pay 
+an interest of £7 1/2 as compared with £5 formerly. The amount of interest to be paid by him would rise 
+because he now has to borrow more capital. 
+
+The whole endeavour of Mr. Overstone consists in representing the interests of loan capital and industrial 
+capital as being identical, whereas his Bank Act is precisely calculated to exploit this very difference of 
+interests to the advantage of money-capital. 
+
+It is possible that the demand for commodities, in case their supply has fallen below average, does not 
+absorb any more money-capital than formerly. The same sum, or perhaps a smaller one, has to be paid 
+for their total value, but a smaller quantity of use-values is received for the same sum. In this case, the 
+demand for loanable capital will be unchanged and therefore rate of interest will not rise, although the 
+demand for commodities would have risen as compared to their supply and consequently the price of 
+commodities would have become higher. The rate of interest cannot be affected, unless the total demand 
+for loan capital increases, and this is not the case under the above assumptions. 
+
+The supply of an article can also fall below average, as it does when crop failures in corn, cotton, etc., 
+occur; and the demand for loan capital can increase because speculation in these commodities counts on 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 32 
+
+further rise in prices and the easiest way to make them rise is to temporarily withdraw a portion of the 
+supply from the market. But in order to pay for the purchased commodities without selling them, money 
+is secured by means of the commercial "bill of exchange operations." In this case, the demand for loan 
+capital increases, and the rate of interest can rise as a result of this attempt to artificially prevent the 
+supply of this commodity from reaching the market. The higher rate of interest then reflects an artificial 
+reduction in the supply of commodity-capital. On the other hand, the demand for an article can grow 
+because its supply has increased and the article sells below its average price. 
+
+In this case, the demand for loan capital can remain the same, or even fall, because more commodities 
+can be had for the same sum of money. Speculative stock-piling could also occur, either for the purpose 
+of taking advantage of the most favourable moment for production purposes, or in expectation of a future 
+rise in prices. In this case, the demand for loan capital could grow, and the rise in the rate of interest 
+would then be a reflection of capital investment in surplus stock-piling of elements of productive capital. 
+We are only considering here the demand for loan capital as it is influenced by the demand for, and 
+supply of, commodity-capital. We have already discussed how the varying state of the reproduction 
+process in the phases of the industrial cycle influences the supply of loan capital. The trivial proposition 
+that the market rate of interest is determined by the supply and demand of (loan) capital is shrewdly 
+jumbled up by Overstone with his own postulate, namely, that loan capital is identical with capital in 
+general; and in this way he tries to transform the usurer into the only capitalist and his capital into the 
+only capital. 
+
+In times of stringency, the demand for loan capital is a demand for means of payment and nothing else; it 
+is by no means a demand for money as a means of purchase. At the same time, the rate of interest may 
+rise very high, regardless whether real capital, i.e., productive and commodity capital, exists in 
+abundance or is scarce. The demand for means of payment is a mere demand for convertibility into 
+money, so far as merchants and producers have good securities to offer; it is a demand for money-capital 
+whenever there is no collateral, so that an advance of means of payment gives them not only the form of 
+money but also the equivalent they lack, whatever its form, with which to make payment. This is the 
+point where both sides of the controversy on the prevalent theory of crises are at the same time right and 
+wrong. Those who say that there is merely a lack of means of payment, either have only the owners of 
+bona fide securities in mind, or they are fools who believe that it is the duty and power of banks to 
+transform all bankrupt swindlers into solvent and respectable capitalists by means of pieces of paper. 
+Those who say that there is merely a lack of capital, are either just quibbling about words, since precisely 
+at such times there is a mass of inconvertible capital as a result of over-imports and over-production, or 
+they are referring only to such cavaliers of credit who are now, indeed, placed in the position where they 
+can no longer obtain other people's capital for their operations and now demand that the bank should not 
+only help them to pay for the lost capital, but also enable them to continue with their swindles. 
+
+It is a basic principle of capitalist production that money, as an independent form of value, stands in 
+opposition to commodities, or that exchange-value must assume an independent form in money; and this 
+is only possible when a definite commodity becomes the material whose value becomes a measure of all 
+other commodities, so that it thus becomes the general commodity, the commodity par excellence — as 
+distinguished from all other commodities. This must manifest itself in two respects, particularly among 
+capitalistically developed nations, which to a large extent replace money, on the one hand, by credit 
+operations, and on the other by credit-money. In times of a squeeze, when credit contracts or ceases 
+entirely, money suddenly stands as the only means of payment and true existence of value in absolute 
+opposition to all other commodities. Hence the universal depreciation of commodities, the difficulty or 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 32 
+
+even impossibility of transforming them into money, i.e., into their own purely fantastic form. Secondly, 
+how-ever, credit-money itself is only money to the extent that it absolutely takes the place of actual 
+money to the amount of its nominal value. With a drain on gold its convertibility, i.e., its identity with 
+actual gold becomes problematic. Hence coercive measures, raising the rate of interest, etc., for the 
+purpose of safeguarding the conditions of this convertibility. This can be carried more or less to extremes 
+by mistaken legislation, based on false theories of money and enforced upon the nation by the interests of 
+the money-dealers, the Overstones and their ilk. The basis, however, is given with the basis of the mode 
+of production itself. A depreciation of credit-money (not to mention, incidentally, a purely imaginary loss 
+of its character as money) would unsettle all existing relations. Therefore, the value of commodities is 
+sacrificed for the purpose of safeguarding the fantastic and independent existence of this value in money. 
+As money-value, it is secure only as long as money is secure. For a few millions in money, many 
+millions in commodities must therefore be sacrificed. This is inevitable under capitalist production and 
+constitutes one of its beauties. In former modes of production, this does not occur because, on the narrow 
+basis upon which they stand, neither credit nor credit-money can develop greatly. As long as the social 
+character of labour appears as the money-existence of commodities, and thus as a thing external to actual 
+production, money crises — independent of or as an intensification of actual crises — are inevitable. On 
+the other hand, it is clear that as long as the credit of a bank is not shaken, it will alleviate the panic in 
+such cases by increasing credit-money and intensify it by contracting the latter. The entire history of 
+modern industry shows that metal would indeed be required only for the balancing of international 
+commerce, whenever its equilibrium is momentarily disturbed, if only domestic production were 
+organised. That the domestic market does not need any metal even now is shown by the suspension of 
+the cash payments of the so-called national banks, which resort to this expedient in all extreme cases as 
+the sole relief. 
+
+In the case of two individuals, it would be ridiculous to say that in their transactions with one another 
+both have an unfavourable balance of payments. If they are reciprocally creditor and debtor of one 
+another, it is evident that when their claims do not balance, one must be the creditor and the other the 
+debtor for the balance. With nations this is by no means the case. And that this is not the case is 
+acknowledged by all economists when they admit that the balance of payments can be favourable or 
+unfavourable for a nation, though its trade balance must ultimately be settled. The balance of payments 
+differs from the balance of trade in that it is a balance of trade which must be settled at a definite time. 
+What the crises now accomplish is to narrow the difference between the balance of payments and the 
+balance of trade to a short interval; and the specific conditions which develop in the nation suffering 
+from a crisis and, therefore, having its payments become due-these conditions already lead to such a 
+contraction of the time of settlement. First, shipping away precious metals; then selling consigned 
+commodities at low prices; exporting commodities to dispose of them or to obtain money advances on 
+them at home; increasing the rate of interest, recalling credit, depreciating securities, disposing of foreign 
+securities, attracting foreign capital for investment in these depreciated securities, and finally bankruptcy, 
+which settles a mass of claims. At the same time, metal is still often sent to the country where a crisis has 
+broken out, because the drafts drawn on it are insecure and payment in specie is most trustworthy. 
+Furthermore, in regard to Asia, all capitalist nations are usually simultaneously — directly or indirectly — 
+its debtors. As soon as these various circumstances exert their full effect upon the other involved nation, 
+it likewise begins to export gold and silver, in short, its payments become due and the same phenomena 
+are repeated. 
+
+In commercial credit, the interest — as the difference between credit price and cash price — enters into the 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 32 
+
+price of commodities only in so far as the bills of exchange have a longer than ordinary running time. 
+Otherwise it does not. And this is explained by the fact that everyone takes credit with one hand and 
+gives it with the other. [This does not agree with my experience. — F.E.] But in so far as discount in this 
+form enters here, it is not regulated by this commercial credit, but by the money-market. 
+
+If supply and demand of money-capital, which determine the rate of interest, were identical with supply 
+and demand of actual capital, as Overstone maintains, the interest would be simultaneously low and high, 
+depending on whether various commodities or various phases (raw material, semi-finished product, 
+finished product) of the same commodity were being considered. In 1844, the rate of interest of the Bank 
+of England fluctuated between 4% (from January to September) and 2 1/2 and 3% (from November to the 
+end of the year). In 1845, it was 2 1/2 , 23/4 , and 3% from January to October, and between 3 and 5% 
+during the remaining months. The average price of fair Orleans cotton was 6l/4d. in 4844 and 47/8d. in 
+1845. On March 3, 1844, the cotton supply in Liverpool was 627,042 bales, and on March 3, 1845, it was 
+773,800 bales. To judge by the low price of cotton, the rate of interest should have been low in 1845, and 
+it was indeed for the greater part of this time. But to judge by the yarn, the rate of interest should have 
+been high, for the prices were relatively high and the profits absolutely high. From cotton at 4d. per 
+pound, yarn could be spun, in 1845 with a spinning cost of 4d. (good secunda mule twist No. 40), or a 
+total cost of 8d. to the spinner, which he could sell in September and October 1845 at IO1/2 or lli/2d. per 
+pound. (See the testimony of Wylie below.) 
+
+The entire matter can be resolved as follows: 
+
+Supply and demand of loan capital would be identical with supply and demand of capital generally 
+(although this last statement is absurd; for the industrial or commercial capitalist a commodity is a form 
+of his capital, yet he never asks for capital as such, but only for the particular commodity as such, he 
+buys and pays for it as a commodity, e.g., corn or cotton, regardless of the role that it has to play in the 
+circuit of his capital), if there were no money-lenders, and if in their stead the lending capitalists were in 
+possession of machinery, raw materials, etc., which they would lend or hire out, as houses are rented out 
+now, to the industrial capitalists, who are themselves owners of some of these objects. Under such 
+circumstances, the supply of loan capital would be identical with the supply of elements of production 
+for the industrial capitalist and commodities for the merchant. But it is clear that the division of profit 
+between the lender and borrower would then, to begin with, completely depend on the relation of the 
+capital which is lent to that which is the property of the one who employs it. 
+
+According to Mr. Weguelin (B. A. 1857), the rate of interest is determined by "the amount of 
+unemployed capital" (252); it is "but an indication of a large amount of capital seeking employment" 
+(271); later this unemployed capital becomes "floating capital" (485) and by this he means "the Bank of 
+England notes and other kinds of circulation in the country, for instance, the country banks circulation 
+and the amount of coin which is in the country 
+
+I include in floating capital the reserves of the bankers" (502, 503), and later also gold bullion (503). 
+Thus the same Mr. Weguelin says that the Bank of England exerts great influence upon the rate of 
+interest in times, when "we" [the Bank of England] "are holders of the greater portion of the unemployed 
+capital " (1198), while, according to the above testimony of Mr. Overstone, the Bank of England "is no 
+place for capital." Mr. Weguelin further says: "I think the rate of discount is governed by the amount of 
+unemployed capital which there is in the country. The amount of unemployed capital is represented by 
+the reserve of the Bank of England, which is practically a reserve of bullion. When, therefore, the bullion 
+
+
+
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+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 32 
+
+is drawn upon, it diminishes the amount of unemployed capital in the country and consequently raises the 
+value of that which remains" (1258). J. Stuart Mill says (2102): "The Bank is obliged to depend for the 
+solvency of its banking department upon what it can do to replenish the reserve in that department; and 
+therefore as soon as it finds that there is any drain in progress, it is obliged to look to the safety of its 
+reserve, and to commence contracting its discounts or selling securities." — The reserve, in so far as only 
+the banking department is considered, is a reserve for the deposits only. According to the Overstones, the 
+banking department is supposed to act only as a banker, without regard to the "automatic" issue of notes. 
+But in times of actual stringency the Bank, independently of the reserve of the banking department; 
+which consists only of notes, keeps a sharp eye on the bullion reserve, and must do so if it does not wish 
+to fail. For, to the extent that the bullion reserve dwindles, so the reserve of bank-notes also dwindles, 
+and no one should be better informed of this than Mr. Overstone, who precisely by his Bank Act of 1844 
+has so sagaciously arranged this. 
+
+Footnotes 
+
+[91 B. A. 1857. Testimony of Twells, banker: "4516. As a banker, do you deal in capital or in money? — 
+We deal in money." — "4517. How are the deposits paid into your bank? — In money." — "4518. How are 
+they paid out? — In money." — "4519. Then can they be called anything else but money? — No." 
+Overstone (see Chapter XXVI) confuses continually "capital" and "money." "Value of money" also 
+means interest to him, but in so far as it is determined by the mass of money, "value of capital" is 
+supposed to be interest, in so far as it is determined by the demand for productive capital and the profit 
+made by it. He says: "4140. The use of the word 'capital' is very dangerous." — "4148. The export of 
+bullion from this country is a diminution of the quantity of money in this country, and a diminution of the 
+quantity of money in this country must of course create a pressure upon the money-market generally" 
+[but not in the capital-market, according to this]. — "4112. As the money goes out of the country, the 
+quantity in the country is diminished. That diminution of the quantity remaining in the country produces 
+an increased value of that money" [this originally means in his theory an increase in the value of money 
+as such through a contraction of circulation, as compared to the values of commodities; in other words, 
+an increase in the value of money is the same as a fall in the value of commodities. But since in the 
+meantime even he has been convinced beyond peradventure that the mass of circulating money does not 
+determine prices, it is now the diminution in money as a medium of circulation which is supposed to 
+raise its value as interest-bearing capital, and thus the rate of interest]. "And that increased value of what 
+remains stops the exit of money, and is kept up until it has brought back that quantity of money which is 
+necessary to restore the equilibrium." — More of Overstone' s contradictions later on. 
+
+[10] At this point the confusion starts: both of these things are supposed to be "money", namely, the 
+deposit as a claim to payment from the banker, and the deposited money in the hands of the banker. 
+Banker Twells, before the Banking Committee of 1857, offers the following example: "If I begin 
+business with £10,000, 1 buy with £5,000 commodities and put them into warehouse. I deposit the other 
+£5,000 with a banker, to draw upon it and use it as I require it. I consider it still £10,000 capital to me, 
+though £5,000 is in the shape of deposits or money" (4528). — This now gives rise to the following 
+peculiar debate. — "4531. You have parted with your £5,000 of notes to somebody else? — Yes." — 
+"4532. Then he has £5,000 of deposits?- Yes." - "4533. And you have £5,000 of deposits left? - 
+Exactly." - "4534. He has £5,000 in money, and you have £5,000 in money? - Yes." - "4535. But it is 
+nothing but money at last? — No." This confusion is due partly to the circumstance that A, who has 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 32 
+
+deposited £5,000, can draw on it and dispose of it as though he still had it. To that extent it serves him as 
+potential money. However, in all cases in which he draws on it he destroys his deposit pro tanto. If he 
+draws out real money, and his own money has already been lent to someone else, he is not paid with his 
+own money, but with that of some other depositor. If he pays a debt to B with a cheque on his banker, 
+and B deposits this cheque with his banker, and the banker of A also has a cheque on the banker of B, so 
+that the two bankers merely exchange cheques, the money deposited by A has performed the function of 
+money twice; first, in the hands of the one who has received the money deposited by A; secondly, in the 
+hands of A himself. In the second function, it is a balancing of claims (the claim of A on his banker, and 
+the claim of the latter on the banker of B) without using money. Here the deposit acts twice as money, 
+namely, as real money and then as a claim on money. Mere claims to money can take the place of money 
+only by a balancing of claims. 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 33 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 33 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+PartV 
+
+DIVISION OF PROFIT INTO INTEREST AND PROFIT 
+
+OF ENTERPRISE. 
+
+INTEREST-BEARING CAPITAL 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 33 
+
+
+
+The Medium of Circulation in the Credit System 
+
+
+
+The great regulator of the velocity of the currency is credit. This explains why a severe pressure upon the 
+money-market is generally coincident with a full circulation." (The Currency Theory Reviewed, p. 65.) 
+This is to be taken in a double sense. On the one hand, all methods which save on medium of circulation 
+are based upon credit. On the other hand, however, take, for example, a 500-pound note. A gives it to B 
+on a certain day in payment for a bill of exchange; B deposits it on the same day with his banker; the 
+latter discounts a bill of exchange with it on the very same day for C; C pays it to his bank, the bank 
+gives it to the bill-broker as an advance, etc. The velocity with which the note circulates here, to serve for 
+purchases and payments, is effected by the velocity with which it repeatedly returns to someone in the 
+form of a deposit and passes over to someone else again in the form of a loan. The pure economy in 
+medium of circulation appears most highly developed in the clearing house — in the simple exchange of 
+bills of exchange that are due — and in the preponderant function of money as a means of payment for 
+merely settling balances. But the very existence of these bills of exchange depends in turn on credit, 
+which the industrialists and merchants mutually give one another. If this credit declines, so does the 
+number of bills, particularly long-term ones, and consequently also the effectiveness of this method of 
+balancing accounts. And this economy, which consists in eliminating money from transactions and rests 
+entirely upon the function of money as a means of payment, which in turn is based upon credit, can only 
+be of two kinds (aside from the more or less developed technique in the concentration of these 
+payments): mutual claims, represented by bills of exchange or cheques, are balanced out either by the 
+same banker, who merely transcribes the claim from the account of one to that of another, or by the 
+various bankers among themselves. fill The concentration of 8 to 40 million bills of exchange in the 
+hands of one bill-broker, such as the firm of Overend, Gurney & Co., was one of the principal means of 
+expanding the scale of such balancing locally. The effectiveness of the medium of circulation is 
+increased through this economy in so far as a smaller quantity of it is required simply to balance 
+accounts. On the other hand the velocity of the money flowing as medium of circulation (by which it is 
+also economised) depends entirely upon the flow of purchases and sales, and on the chain of payments, 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 33 
+
+in so far as they occur successively in money. But credit effects and thereby increases the velocity of 
+circulation. A single piece of money, for instance, can effect only five moves, and remains longer in the 
+hands of each individual as mere medium of circulation without credit mediating-when A, its original 
+owner, buys from B, B from C, C from D, D from E, and E from F, that is, when its transition from one 
+hand to another is due only to actual purchases and sales. But when B deposits the money received in 
+payment from A with his banker and the latter uses it in discounting bills of exchange for C, C in turn 
+buys from D, D deposits it with his banker and the latter lends it to E, who buys from F, then even its 
+velocity as mere medium of circulation (means of purchase) is effected by several credit operations: B's 
+depositing with his banker and the latter's discounting for C, D's depositing with his banker, and the 
+latter's discounting for E; in other words through four credit operations. Without these credit operations, 
+the same piece of money would not have performed five purchases successively in the given period of 
+time. The fact that it changed bands without mediation of actual sales and purchases, through depositing 
+and discounting, has here accelerated its change of hands in the series of actual transactions. 
+
+We have seen previously that one and the same bank-note can constitute deposits in several banks. 
+Similarly, it can also constitute various deposits in the same bank. The banker discounts, with the note 
+which A has deposited, B's bill of exchange, B pays C, and C deposits the same note in the same bank 
+that issued it. 
+
+We have already demonstrated in the discussion of simple money circulation (Vol I, Ch. Ill, 2) that the 
+mass of actual circulating money, assuming the velocity of circulation and economy of payments as 
+given, is determined by the prices of commodities and the quantity of transactions. The same law governs 
+the circulation of notes. 
+
+In the following table, the annual average number of notes of the Bank of England, in so far as they were 
+in the hands of the public, are recorded, namely, the 5- and 10-pound notes, the 20- to 100-pound notes, 
+and the larger denominations between 200 and 1,000 pounds sterling; also the percentages of the total 
+circulation that each one of these groupings constitutes. The amounts are in thousands, i.e., the last three 
+figures are omitted.* 
+
+Year £5-10 Notes % £20-100 Notes % £200-1,000 Notes % Total 
+
+1844 9,263 45.7 5,735 28.3 5,253 26.0 20,241 
+
+1845 9,698 46.9 6,082 29.3 4,942 23.8 20,722 
+
+1846 9,918 48.9 5,778 28.5 4,590 22.6 20,286 
+
+1847 9,591 50.1 5,498 28.7 4,066 21.2 19,155 
+
+1848 8,732 48.3 5,046 27.9 4,307 23.8 18,085 
+
+1849 8,692 47.2 5,234 28.5 4,477 24.3 18,403 
+
+1850 9,164 47.2 5,587 28.8 4,646 24.0 19,398 
+
+1851 9,362 48.1 5,554 28.5 4,557 23.4 19,473 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 33 
+
+1852 9,839 45.0 6,161 28.2 5,856 26.8 21,856 
+
+1853 10,699 47.3 6,393 28.2 5,541 24.5 22,653 
+
+1854 10,565 51.0 5,910 28.5 4,234 20.5 20,709 
+
+1855 10,628 53.6 5,706 28.9 3,459 17.5 19,793 
+
+1856 10,680 54.4 5,645 28.7 3,323 16.9 19,648 
+
+1857 10,659 54.7 5,567 28.6 3,241 16.7 19,467 
+
+(B. A. 1858, p. XXVI.) The total sum of circulating bank-notes, therefore, positively decreased from 
+1844 to 1857, although commercial business, as indicated by exports and imports, had more than 
+doubled. The smaller bank-notes of £5 and £10 increased, as the table shows, from £9,263,000 in 1844 to 
+£10,659,000 in 1857. And this took place simultaneously with the particularly heavy increase in gold 
+circulation at that time. On the other hand, there was a decrease in the notes of higher denominations 
+(£200 to £1,000) from £5,856,000 in 1852 to £3,241,000 in 1857, i.e., a decrease of more than £2i/2 
+million. This is explained as follows: "On the 8th June 1854, the private bankers of London admitted the 
+joint-stock banks to the arrangements of the clearing house, and shortly afterwards the final clearing was 
+adjusted in the Bank of England. The daily clearances are now effected by transfers in the accounts 
+which the several banks keep in that establishment. In consequence of the adoption of this system, the 
+large notes which the bankers formerly employed for the purpose of adjusting their accounts are no 
+longer necessary." (B. A. 1858, p. V.) 
+
+To what small minimum the use of money in wholesale trade has been reduced, can be deduced from the 
+table reprinted in Book I (Ch. Ill, Footnote), which was presented to the Bank Committee by Morrison, 
+Dillon & Co., one of the largest of those London firms from which a small dealer can buy his entire 
+assortment of commodities. 
+
+According to the testimony of W. Newmarch before the Bank Committee 1857, No. 1741, other 
+circumstances also contributed to economy in the circulating medium: penny postage, railways, 
+telegraphy, in short, the improved means of communication; thus England can now carry on five to six 
+times more business with about the same circulation of bank-notes. This is also essentially due to the 
+withdrawal from circulation of notes of higher denomination than £10. Here Newmarch sees a natural 
+explanation for the phenomenon that in Scotland and Ireland, where one-pound notes also circulate, note 
+circulation has risen by about 31% (1747). The total circulation of bank-notes in the United Kingdom, 
+including one-pound notes, is said to be £39 million (1749). The gold circulation, £70 million (1750). In 
+Scotland, the circulation of notes was £3,120,000 in 1834; £3,020,000 in 1844; and £4,050,000 in 1854 
+(1752). 
+
+From these figures alone, it is evident that banks issuing notes can by no means increase the number of 
+circulating notes at will, as long as these notes are at all times exchangeable for money. [Inconvertible 
+paper money is not considered here at all; inconvertible bank-notes can become a universal medium of 
+circulation only where they are actually backed by state credit, as is the case in Russia at present. They 
+then fall under the laws of inconvertible paper money issued by the state, which have already been 
+
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+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 33 
+
+developed in Book I (Ch. Ill, 2, c) "Coin and Symbols of Value." - F.E.] 
+
+The quantity of circulating notes is regulated by the turnover requirements, and every superfluous note 
+wends its way back immediately to the issuer. Since in England only the notes of the Bank of England 
+circulate universally as legal means of payment, we can disregard at this point the insignificant, and 
+merely local, note circulation of the country banks. 
+
+Before the Bank Committee 1858, Mr. Neave, Governor of the Bank of England, testifies: "No. 947. 
+(Question:) Whatever measures you resort to, the amount of notes with the public, you say, remains the 
+same; that is somewhere about £20,000,000? — In ordinary times, the uses of the public seem to want 
+about £20,000,000. There are special periodical moments when, through the year, they rise to another 
+£1,000,000 or £1,500,000. 1 stated that, if the public wanted more, they could always take it from the 
+Bank of England. — "948. You stated that during the panic the public would not allow you to diminish 
+the amount of notes; I want you to account for that.-In moments of panic, the public have, as I believe, 
+the full power of helping themselves as to notes; and of course, as long as the Bank has a liability, they 
+may use that liability to take the notes from the Bank." — "949. Then there seems to be required, at all 
+times, somewhere about £20,000,000 of legal tender? — £20,000,000 of notes with the public; it varies. It 
+is £18,500,000, £19,000,000, £20,000,000, and so on; but taking the average, you may call it from 
+£19,000,000 to £20,000,000." 
+
+Testimony of Thomas Tooke before the Committee of Lords on Commercial Distress (C. D. 1848/57), 
+No. 3094: "The Bank has no power of its own volition to extend the amount of its circulation in the 
+hands of the public; but it has the power of reducing the amount of the notes in the hands of the public, 
+not however without a very violent operation." 
+
+J. C. Wright, a banker for 30 years in Nottingham, having explained at length the impossibility for a 
+country bank to be able to keep more notes in circulation than the public needs and wants, says about 
+notes of the Bank of England (C. D. 1848/57), No. 2844: "I am not aware that there is any check" (for 
+note issue) "upon the Bank of England, but any excess of circulation will go into the deposits and thus 
+assume a different name." 
+
+The same holds true for Scotland, where almost nothing but paper circulates, because there as well as in 
+Ireland one-pound notes are also in use and "the Scotch hate gold." Kennedy, Director of a Scottish bank, 
+declares that banks could not even contract their circulation of notes and "conceives that so long as there 
+are internal transactions requiring notes or gold to perform them, bankers must, either through the 
+demands of their depositors or in one shape or another, furnish as much currency as those transactions 
+require... The Scottish banks can restrict their transactions, but they cannot control their currency." (Ibid., 
+Nos. 3446, 3448.) Similarly, Anderson, Director of the Union Bank of Scotland, states (ibid., No. 3578): 
+"The system of exchanges between yourselves " [among the Scottish banks] "prevents any over-issue on 
+the part of any one bank? — Yes; there is a more powerful preventive than the system of exchanges" 
+[which has really nothing to do with this, but does indeed guarantee the ability of the notes of each bank 
+to circulate throughout Scotland], "the universal practice in Scotland of keeping a bank account; 
+everybody who has any money at all has a bank account and puts in every day the money which he does 
+not immediately want, so that at the close of the business of the day there is no money scarcely out of the 
+banks except what people have in their pockets." 
+
+The same applies to Ireland, as indicated in the testimony of the Governor of the Bank of Ireland, 
+MacDonnell, and the Director of the Provincial Bank of Ireland, Murray, before the same Committee. 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 33 
+
+Note circulation is just as independent of the state of the gold reserve in the vaults of the bank which 
+guarantees the convertibility of these notes, as it is of the will of the Bank of England. "On September 
+18, 1846, the circulation of the Bank of England was £20,900,000 and the bullion in the Bank 
+£16,273,000; and on April 5, 4847, the notes in circulation were £20,815,000 and the bullion 
+£40,246,000... It is evident that six million of gold were exported, without any contraction of the 
+currency of the country." (J. G. Kinnear, The Crisis and the Currency, London, 1847, p. 5.) Of course, 
+this applies only under present conditions prevailing in England, and even here only in so far as 
+legislation does not decree a different relationship between the note issue and metal reserve. 
+
+Hence only the requirements of business itself exert an influence on the quantity of circulating 
+money-notes and gold. To be noted here, in the first instance, are the periodic fluctuations, which repeat 
+themselves annually regardless of the general condition of business, so that for the past 20 years "the 
+circulation is high in one month, and it is low in another month, and in a certain other month occurs a 
+medium point." (Newmarch, B. A. 1857, No. 1650.) 
+
+Thus, in August of every year a few millions, generally in gold, pass from the Bank of England into 
+domestic circulation to pay the harvest expenses; since wages are the principal payments to be made 
+here, bank-notes are less serviceable in England for this purpose. By the close of the year this money has 
+streamed back to the Bank. In Scotland, there are almost nothing but one-pound notes instead of 
+sovereigns; here, then, the note circulation is expanded in the corresponding situation, namely, twice a 
+year — in May and November — from 3 million to 4 million; after a fortnight the return flow begins, and 
+is almost completed in one month. (Anderson, C. D. 1848/57, Nos. 3595-3600.) 
+
+The note circulation of the Bank of England also experiences a momentary fluctuation every three 
+months because of the quarterly payment of "dividends," that is, interest on the national debt, whereby 
+bank-notes are first withdrawn from circulation and then again released to the public; but they flow back 
+very soon again. Weguelin (B. A. 1857, No. 38) states that this fluctuation in the note circulation 
+amounts to two and a half million. Mr. Chapman of the notorious firm of Overend, Gurney & Co., 
+however, estimates the amount of disturbance thus created in the money-market as being much higher. 
+"When you abstract from the circulation £6,000,000 or £7,000,000 of revenue in anticipation of 
+dividends, somebody must be the medium of supplying that in the intermediate times." (B. A. 1857, No. 
+5196.) 
+
+Far more significant and enduring are the fluctuations in quantity of circulating medium corresponding to 
+the various phases of the industrial cycle. Let us listen to another associe of that firm on this question, the 
+esteemed Quaker Samuel Gurney (C. D. 1848/57, No. 2645): "At the end of October (1847) the amount 
+of bank-notes in the hands of the public was £20,800,000. At that period there was great difficulty in 
+getting possession of bank-notes in the money-market. This arose from the alarm of not being able to get 
+them in consequence of the restriction of the Act of 1844. At present [March 1848] the amount of 
+bank-notes in the hands of the public is... £17,700,000, but there being now no commercial alarm 
+whatsoever, it is much beyond what is required. There is no banking house or money-dealer in London, 
+but what has a larger amount of bank-notes than they can use." — "2650. The amount of bank-notes... out 
+of the custody of the Bank of England affords a totally insufficient exponent of the active state of the 
+circulation, without taking into consideration likewise... the state of the commercial world and the state 
+of credit." — "2651. The feeling of surplus that we have under the present amount of circulation in the 
+hands of the public arises in a large degree from our present state of great stagnation. In a state of high 
+prices and excitement of transaction £17,700,000 would give us a feeling of restriction." 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 33 
+
+[As long as the state of business is such that returns of loans made come in regularly and credit thus 
+remains unshaken, the expansion and contraction of circulation depend simply upon the requirements of 
+industrialists and merchants. Since gold, at least in England, does not come into question in the 
+wholesale trade and the circulation of gold, aside from seasonal fluctuations, may be regarded as rather 
+constant over a long period of time, the note circulation of the Bank of England constitutes a sufficiently 
+accurate measure of these changes. In the period of stagnation following a crisis, circulation is smallest; 
+with the renewed demand, a greater need for circulating medium develops, which increases with rising 
+prosperity; the quantity of circulating medium reaches its apex in the period of over- tension and 
+over-speculation — the crisis precipitously breaks out and overnight bank-notes which yesterday were 
+still so plentiful disappear from the market and with them the discounters of bills, lenders of money on 
+securities, and buyers of commodities. The Bank of England is called upon for help — but even its 
+powers are soon exhausted, for the Bank Act of 1844 compels it to contract its note circulation at the 
+very moment when the whole world cries out for notes; when owners of commodities cannot sell, yet are 
+called upon to pay and are prepared for any sacrifice, if only they can secure bank-notes. "During an 
+alarm," says the earlier mentioned banker Wright (loc. cit., No. 2930), "the country requires twice as 
+much circulation as in ordinary times, because the circulation is hoarded by bankers and others." 
+
+Once the crisis has broken out, it becomes from then on only a question of means of payment. But since 
+every one is dependent upon someone else for the receipt of these means of payment, and no one knows 
+whether the next one will be able to meet his payments when due, a regular stampede ensues for those 
+means of payment available on the market, that is, for bank-notes. Everyone hoards as many of them as 
+he can lay hand on, and thus the notes disappear from circulation on the very day when they are most 
+needed. Samuel Gurney (C. D. 1848/57, No. 1116) estimates the amount of bank notes brought under 
+lock and key in October 1847, at a time of such alarm, to have reached £4 to £5 million. — F.E.) 
+
+In this connection, the cross-examination of Chapman, Gurney's associate who has been previously 
+mentioned, before the Bank Committee of 1857 is especially interesting. I present here its principal 
+contents in context, although certain points are touched upon which we shall not examine until later. 
+
+Mr. Chapman has the following to say: 
+
+"4963. 1 have also no hesitation in saying that I do not think it is a proper condition of things that the 
+money-market should be under the power of any individual capitalist (such as does exist in London), to 
+create a tremendous scarcity and pressure, when we have a very low state of circulation out. That is 
+possible... there is more than one capitalist, who can withdraw from the circulating medium £1,000,000 
+or £2,000,000 of notes, if they have an object to attain by it." - 4965. [In the German 4894 edition this 
+reads: 4995. - Ed. ] A big speculator can sell £1,000,000 or £2,000,000 of consols and thus take the 
+money out of the market. Something similar to this has happened quite recently, "it creates a very violent 
+pressure." 
+
+4967. The notes are then indeed unproductive. "But that is nothing, if it effects his great object; his great 
+object is to knock down the funds, to create a scarcity, and he has it perfectly in his power to do so. " — 
+An illustration: One morning there was a great demand for money in the Stock Exchange; nobody knew 
+its cause; somebody asked Chapman to lend him £50,000 at 7%. Chapman was astonished, for his rate of 
+interest was much lower; he accepted. Soon after that the man returned, borrowed another £50,000 at 
+7 1/2%, then £100,000 at 8%, and wanted still more at 81/2%. Then even Chapman became uneasy. Later it 
+turned out that a considerable sum of money had been suddenly withdrawn from the market. But, says 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 33 
+
+Chapman, "I did lend a large sum at 8%; I was afraid to go beyond; I did not know what was coming." 
+
+It must never be forgotten that, although £19 to £20 million in notes are almost constantly supposed to he 
+in the hands of the public, nevertheless, the portion of these notes which actually circulates, and, on the 
+other hand, the portion which is held idle by the banks as a reserve, continually and significantly vary 
+with respect to each other. If this reserve is large, and therefore the actual circulation small, it means, 
+from the point of view of the money-market, that the circulation is full, money is plentiful; if the reserve 
+is small, and therefore the actual circulation full, in the language of the money-market the circulation is 
+low, money is scarce — in other words, the portion representing idle loan capital is small. A real 
+expansion or contraction of the circulation, that is independent of the phases of the industrial cycle — 
+with the amount needed by the public, however, remaining the same — occurs only for technical reasons, 
+for instance, on the dates when taxes or the interest on the national debt are due. When taxes are paid, 
+more notes and gold than usual flow into the Bank of England and, in effect, contract the circulation 
+without regard to its needs. The reverse takes place when the dividends on the national debt are paid out. 
+In the former case, loans are made from the Bank in order to obtain circulating medium. In the latter 
+case, the rate of interest falls in private banks because of the momentary growth of their reserves. This 
+has nothing to do with the absolute quantity of circulating medium; it does, however, concern the 
+banking firm which sets this circulating medium in motion and for which this process consists in the 
+alienation of loan capital and for which it pockets the profits thereby. 
+
+In the one case, there is merely a temporary displacement of circulating medium, which the Bank of 
+England balances by short-term loans at low interest shortly before the quarterly taxes and also before the 
+quarterly dividends on the national debt become due; the issue of these supernumerary notes first fills up 
+the gap caused by the payment of taxes, while their return payment to the Bank soon thereafter brings 
+back the excess of notes obtained by the public through the payment of dividends. 
+
+In the other case, low or full circulation is always simply a matter of different distribution of the same 
+quantity of circulating medium into active circulation and deposits, i.e., an instrument of loans. 
+
+On the other hand, if, for example, the number of notes issued is increased on the basis of a flow of gold 
+into the Bank of England, these notes assist in discounting bills outside of the Bank and return to it 
+through the repayment of loans, so that the absolute quantity of circulating notes is only momentarily 
+increased. 
+
+If the circulation is full because of business expansion (which may take place even though prices are 
+relatively low), then the rate of interest can be relatively high because of the demand for loan capital as a 
+result of rising profits and increased new investments. If it is low, because of business contraction, or 
+perhaps because credit is very plentiful, the rate of interest can be low even though prices are high. (See 
+Hubbard. Present edition: Ch. XXXIII. - Ed ) 
+
+The absolute amount of circulation has a determining influence on the rate of interest only in times of 
+stringency. The demand for full circulation can either reflect merely a demand for a hoarding medium 
+(disregarding the reduced velocity of the money circulation and the continuous conversion of the same 
+identical pieces of money into loan capital) owing to lack of credit, as was the case in 1847 when the 
+suspension of the Bank Act did not cause any expansion of the circulation, but sufficed to draw forth the 
+hoarded notes and to channel them into circulation; or it may be that more means of circulation are 
+actually required under the circumstances, as was the case in 1857 when the circulation actually 
+expanded for some time after the suspension of the Bank Act. 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 33 
+
+Otherwise, the absolute quantity of circulation has no influence whatever upon the rate of interest, since 
+— assuming the economy and velocity of currency to be constant — it is determined in the first place by 
+commodity-prices and the quantity of transactions (whereby one of these generally neutralises the effect 
+of the other), and finally by the state of credit, whereas it by no means exerts the reverse effect upon the 
+latter; and, secondly, since commodity-prices and interest do not necessarily stand in any direct 
+correlation to each other. 
+
+During the life of the Bank Restriction Act (1797-1819) a surplus of currency existed and the rate of 
+interest was always much higher than after the resumption of cash payments. Later, it fell rapidly with 
+the restriction of the note issue and rising bill quotations. In 1822, 1823, and 1832, the general circulation 
+was low, and so was the rate of interest. In 1824, 1825, and 1836, the circulation was full and the rate of 
+interest rose. In the summer of 1830 the circulation was full and the rate of interest low. Since the gold 
+discoveries, money circulation throughout Europe has expanded, and the rate of interest risen. Therefore, 
+the rate of interest does not depend upon the quantity of circulating money. 
+
+The difference between the issue of circulating medium and the lending of capital is best demonstrated in 
+the actual reproduction process. We have seen (Vol. II, Part III) in what manner the different component 
+parts of production are exchanged for one another. For example, variable capital consists materially of 
+the means of subsistence of the labourers, a portion of their own product. But this is paid out to them 
+piecemeal in money. The capitalist has to advance this, and it is very greatly dependent on the credit 
+system organisation whether he can pay out the new variable capital the following week with the old 
+money which he paid out in the previous week. The same holds for exchange among various component 
+parts of the total social capital, for instance, between means of consumption and means of production of 
+means of consumption. The money for their circulation, as we have seen, must be advanced by one or 
+both of the exchanging parties. It remains thereupon in circulation, but returns after the exchange has 
+been completed to the one who advanced it, since it had been advanced by him over and above his 
+actually employed industrial capital (Vol. II, Ch. XX). Under a developed system of credit, with the 
+money concentrated in the hands of bankers, it is they, at least nominally, who advance it. This advance 
+refers only to money in circulation. It is an advance of circulation, not an advance of capitals which it 
+circulates. 
+
+Chapman: "5062. There may be times, when the notes in the hands of the public, though they may be 
+large, are not to be had. Money also exists during a panic; but everyone takes good care not to convert it 
+into loanable capital, i.e., loanable money; everyone holds on to it for the purpose of meeting real 
+payment needs. 
+
+"5099. The country bankers in rural districts send up their unemployed balances to yourselves and other 
+houses? — Yes." — "5100. On the other hand, the Lancashire and Yorkshire districts require discounts 
+from you for the use of their trades? — Yes." — "5101. Then by that means the surplus money of one part 
+of the country is made available for the demands of another part of the country? — Precisely so." 
+
+Chapman states that the custom of banks to invest their surplus money-capital for short periods in 
+consols and treasury notes has decreased considerably of late, ever since it has become customary to lend 
+this money at call, i.e., payable on demand. He personally considers the purchase of such paper for his 
+business very impractical. He, therefore, invests his money in reliable bills of exchange, some of which 
+become due every day, so that he always knows how much ready money he can count on from day to 
+day. [5101 to 5105.] 
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 33 
+
+Even the growth of exports expresses itself more or less for every country, but particularly for the 
+country granting credit, as an increasing demand on the domestic money-market, which is not felt, 
+however, until a period of stringency. When exports increase, British manufacturers usually draw 
+long-term bills of exchange on the export merchants against consignments of British goods (5126). — 
+"5127. Is it not frequently the case that an understanding exists that those bills are to be redrawn from 
+time to time? — [Chapman:] That is a thing which they keep from us; we should not admit any bill of that 
+sort... I dare say it is done, but I cannot speak to a thing of the kind. " [The innocent Chapman.] "5129. If 
+there is a large increase of the exports of the country, as there was last year, of £20 million, will not that 
+naturally lead to a great demand for capital for the discount of bills representing those exports? — No 
+doubt." — "5130. Inasmuch as this country gives credit, as a general rule, to foreign countries for all 
+exports, it would be an absorption of a corresponding increase of capital for the time being? — This 
+country gives an immense credit; but then it takes credit for its raw material. We are drawn upon from 
+America always at 60 days, and from other parts at 90 days. On the other hand we give credit; if we send 
+goods to Germany, we give two or three months." 
+
+Wilson inquires of Chapman (5131), whether bills of exchange on England are not drawn simultaneously 
+with the loading of these imported raw materials and colonial goods and whether these bills of exchange 
+do not arrive simultaneously with the bills of lading. Chapman believes so, but does not profess to know 
+anything about such "commercial" transactions and suggests that experts in this field be questioned. — In 
+exporting to America, remarks Chapman, "the goods are symbolised in transit" 5133; this gibberish is 
+supposed to mean that the English export merchant draws against his commodities bills of exchange with 
+a four-month term on one of the big American banking houses in London and this firm receives collateral 
+from America. 
+
+"5136. As a general rule, are not the more remote transactions conducted by the merchant, who waits for 
+his capital until the goods are sold? — There may be houses of great private wealth, who can afford to lay 
+out their own capital and not take any advance upon the goods; but the most part are converted into 
+advances by the acceptances of some well-known established houses." — "5137. Those houses are 
+resident in... London, or Liverpool, or elsewhere." — "5138. Therefore, it makes no difference, whether 
+the manufacturer lays out his money, or whether he gets a merchant in London or Liverpool to advance 
+it; it is still an advance in this country? — Precisely. The manufacturer in few cases has anything to do 
+with it" [but in 1847 in almost every case]. "A man dealing in manufactured goods, for instance, at 
+Manchester, will buy his goods and ship them through a house of respectability in London; when the 
+London house is satisfied that they are all packed according to the understanding, he draws upon this 
+London house for six months against these goods to India or China, or wherever they are going; then the 
+banking world comes in and discounts that bill for him; so that, by the time he has to pay for those goods, 
+he has the money all ready by the discount of that bill." — "5139. Although he has the money, the banker 
+is laying out of his money? — The banker has the bill; the banker has bought the bill; he uses his banking 
+capital in that form, namely, in discounting commercial bills." [Hence even Chapman does not regard the 
+discounting of bills as an advance of money, but as a purchase of commodities. — F.E.] — "5140. Still 
+that forms part of the demand upon the money-market in London? — No doubt; it is a substantial 
+occupation of the money-market and of the Bank of England. The Bank of England are as glad to get 
+these bills as we are, because they know them to be good property." — "5141. In that way, as the export 
+trade increases, the demand upon the money-market increases also? — As the prosperity of the country 
+increases, we" [the Chapmans] "partake of it." — "5142. Then when these various fields for the 
+employment of capital increase suddenly, of course, the natural consequence is that the rate of interest is 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 33 
+
+higher? — No doubt about it." 
+
+In 5143 Chapman cannot "quite understand, that under our large exports we have had such occasion for 
+bullion." 
+
+In 5 144 the esteemed Wilson asks: "May it not be that we give larger credits upon our exports than we 
+take credits upon our imports? — I rather doubt that point myself. If a man accepts against his Manchester 
+goods sent to India, you cannot accept for less than ten months. We have had to pay America for her 
+cotton (that is perfectly true) some time before India pays us; but still it is rather refined in its operation." 
+— "5 145. If we have bad an increase, as we had last year, of £20 million in our exports of manufactures 
+we must have had a very large increase of imports of raw material previously to that" [and in this way 
+over-exports are already identified with over-imports, and over-production with over-trading], "in order 
+to make up that increased quantity of goods? — No doubt." — "5146. We should have to pay a very 
+considerable balance, that is to say, the balance, no doubt, would run against us during that time, but in 
+the long run, with America... the exchanges are in our favour, and we have been receiving for some time 
+past large supplies of bullion from America." 
+
+5148. Wilson asks the arch-usurer Chapman, whether he does not regard his high rate of interest as a sign 
+of great prosperity and a high rate of profit. Chapman, evidently surprised at the naivete of this 
+sycophant, affirms this, of course, but has enough integrity to add the following: "There are some, who 
+cannot help themselves; they have engagements to meet, and they must fulfil them, whether it is 
+profitable or not; but, for a continuance" [of the high rate of interest], "it would indicate prosperity." — 
+Both forget that a high rate of interest can also indicate, as it did in 1857, that the country is undermined 
+by the roving cavaliers of credit who can afford to pay a high interest because they pay it out of other 
+people's pockets (whereby, however, they help to determine the rate of interest for all), and meanwhile 
+they live in grand style on anticipated profits. Simultaneously, precisely this can incidentally provide a 
+very profitable business for manufacturers and others. Returns become wholly deceptive as a result of the 
+loan system. This also explains the following, which should require no explanation so far as the Bank of 
+England is concerned, since it discounts at a lower rate than others when the interest rate is high. 
+
+"5156. 1 should say," says Chapman, "that our discounts, taking the present moment, when we have had 
+for so long a high rate of interest, are at their maximum." [Chapman made this statement on July 21, 
+1857, a couple of months before the crash.] — 5157. In 1852" [when the interest rate was low] "they were 
+not nearly so large." For business was indeed a great deal sounder then. 
+
+"5159. If there was a great flood of money in the market... and the bank-rate low, we should get a 
+decrease of bills... In 1852 there was a totally different phase of things. The exports and imports of the 
+country were as nothing then compared to the present." — "5161. Under this high rate of discount our 
+discounts are as large as they were in 1854." [When the rate of interest was between 5 and 5 1/2%. 
+
+A very amusing part of Chapman's testimony reveals how these people really regard public money as 
+their own and assume for themselves the right to constant convertibility of the bills of exchange 
+discounted by them. The questions and replies show great naivete. It becomes the obligation of 
+legislation to make those bills which are accepted by large firms convertible at all time; to ensure that the 
+Bank of England should under all circumstances continue to rediscount them for bill-brokers. And yet 
+three of such bill-brokers went bankrupt in 1857, owing about 8 million and their own infinitesimally 
+small capital compared with these debts. — "5177. Do you mean by that that you think that they" [that is 
+bills accepted by Barings or Loyds] "ought to be discountable on compulsion, in the same way that a 
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 33 
+
+Bank of England note is now exchangeable against gold by compulsion? — I think it would be a very 
+lamentable thing, that they should not be discountable; a most extraordinary position, that a man should 
+stop payment, who had the acceptances of Smith, Payne & Co., or Jones, Loyd & Co. in his hands, 
+because he could not get them discounted." — "5178. Is not the engagement of Messrs. Baring an 
+engagement to pay a certain sum of money when the bill is due? — That is perfectly true; but Messrs. 
+Baring, when they contract that engagement, and every other merchant who contracts an engagement, 
+never dream that they are going to pay it in sovereigns; they expect that they are going to pay it at the 
+Clearing House." — "5180. Do you think that there should be any machinery contrived by which the 
+public would have a right to claim money before that bill was due by calling upon somebody to discount 
+it? — No, not from the acceptor; but if you mean by that that we are not to have the possibility of getting 
+commercial bills discounted, we must alter the whole constitution of things." — "5182. Then you think 
+that it" [commercial bill] "ought to be convertible into money, exactly in the same way that a Bank of 
+England note ought to be convertible into gold? — Most decidedly so, under certain circumstances." — 
+"5184. Then you think that the provisions of the currency should be so shaped that a bill of exchange of 
+undoubted character ought at all times to be as readily exchangeable against money as a bank-note? — I 
+do." — "5185. You do not mean to say that either the Bank of England or any individual should, by law, 
+be compelled to exchange it? — I mean to say this, that in framing a bill for the currency, we should make 
+provision to prevent the possibility of an inconvertibility of the bills of exchange of the country arising, 
+assuming them to be undoubtedly solid and legitimate." — This is the convertibility of the commercial 
+bill as compared with the convertibility of bank-notes. 
+
+"5190. The money-dealers of the country only, in point of fact, represent the public." As did Mr. 
+Chapman later before the court of assizes in the Davidson case. See the Great City Frauds. [S. Laing, 
+New Series of the Great City Frauds of Cole, Davison, and Cordon, London. — Ed.] 
+
+"5196. During the quarters" [when the dividends are paid] "it is... absolutely necessary that we should go 
+to the Bank of England. When you abstract from the circulation £6,000,000 or £7,000,000 of revenue in 
+anticipation of the dividends, somebody must be the medium of supplying that in the intermediate time." 
+[In this case it is then a question of a supply of money, not of capital or loan capital.] 
+
+"5169. Everybody acquainted with our commercial circle must know that when we are in such a state 
+that we find it impossible to sell Exchequer bills, when India bonds are perfectly useless, when you 
+cannot discount the first commercial bills, there must be great anxiety on the part of those whose 
+business renders them liable to pay the circulating medium of the realm on demand, which is the case 
+with all bankers. Then the effect of that is to make every man double his reserve. Just see what the result 
+of that is throughout the country, that every country banker, of whom there are about 500, has to send up 
+to his London correspondent to remit him £5,000 in bank-notes. Taking such a limited sum as that as the 
+average, which is quite absurd, you come to £2,500,000 taken out of the circulation. How is that to be 
+supplied?" 
+
+On the other hand, the private capitalists, etc., who have money do not let go of it at any interest, for they 
+say after the manner of Chapman, "5195. We would rather have no interest at all, than have a doubt 
+about our getting the money in case we require it." 
+
+"5173. Our system is this: That we have £300,000,000 of liabilities which may be called for at a single 
+moment to be paid in the coin of the realm, and that coin of the realm, if the whole of it is substituted, 
+amounts to £23,000,000, or whatever it may be; is not that a state which may throw us into convulsions 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 33 
+
+at any moment?" Hence the sudden change of the credit system into a monetary system during crises. 
+
+Aside from the domestic panic during crises, one can speak of the quantity of money only in so far as it 
+concerns bullion, universal money. And this is precisely what Chapman excludes; he speaks only of 23 
+million in bank-notes. 
+
+The same Chapman: "5218. The primary cause of the derangement of the money-market" [in April and 
+later in October 1847] "no doubt was in the quantity of money which was required to regulate our 
+exchanges, in consequence of the extraordinary importations of the year." 
+
+In the first place, this reserve of world-market money had then been reduced to its minimum. Secondly, it 
+served at the same time as security for the convertibility of credit-money, bank-notes. It combined in this 
+manner two quite different functions, both of which, however, stem from the nature of money, since real 
+money is always world-market money, and credit-money always rests upon world-market money. 
+
+In 1847, without the suspension of the Bank Act of 1844, "the clearing houses could not have been 
+settled." (5221.) 
+
+That Chapman had an inkling of the imminent crisis, after all: "5236. There are certain conditions of the 
+money-market (and the present is not very far from it), where money is exceedingly difficult, and 
+recourse must he had to the Bank." 
+
+"5239. With reference to the sums which we took from the Bank on the Friday, Saturday and Monday, 
+the 19th, 20th, and 22nd of October, 1847, we should only have been too thankful to have got the bills 
+hack on the Wednesday following; the money reflowed to us directly the panic was over." — On 
+Tuesday, October 23, the Bank Act was suspended and the crisis was thus broken. 
+
+Chapman believes (5274) that the bills of exchange running simultaneously on London amount to £100 
+or £120 million. This does not include local bills made on provincial firms. 
+
+"5287. Whereas in October 1856, the amount of the notes in the hands of the public ran up to 
+£21,155,000, there was an extraordinary difficulty in obtaining money; notwithstanding that the public 
+held so much, we could not touch it." — This was due to the fear caused by the squeeze in which the 
+Eastern Bank found itself for a period of time (March 1856). 
+
+5290-92. As soon as the panic is over, "all bankers deriving their profit from interest begin to employ the 
+money immediately." 
+
+5302. Chapman does not explain the uneasiness that exists when the bank reserve decreases as being due 
+to apprehension concerning deposits, but rather that all those who suddenly may be compelled to pay 
+large sums of money are well aware they may be driven to seek their last refuge in the bank when there is 
+a stringency in the money-market; and "if the banks have a very small reserve, they are not glad to 
+receive us; but on the contrary." 
+
+It is pretty, incidentally, to observe how the reserve as a real magnitude dwindles away. Bankers hold a 
+minimum for current business needs either in their own hands or the Bank of England. Bill-brokers hold 
+the "loose bank money of the country" without any reserve. And the Bank of England has nothing to 
+offset its liabilities for deposits but the reserves of bankers and others, together with some public 
+deposits, etc., which it permits to drop to a very low level, for instance, to £2 million. Aside from these 
+£2 million in paper, then, this whole swindle has absolutely no other reserve but the bullion reserve in 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 33 
+
+times of stringency (and this reduces the reserve, because the notes which come in to replace outgoing 
+bullion must be cancelled), and thus every reduction of this reserve by drain on gold increases the crisis. 
+
+"5306. If there should not be currency to settle the transactions at the clearing house, the only next 
+alternative which I can see is to meet together, and to make our payments in first-class bills, bills upon 
+the Treasury, and Messrs. Smith, Payne, and so forth." — "5307. Then, if the government failed to supply 
+you with a circulating medium, you would create one for yourselves? — What can we do? The public 
+come in, and take the circulating medium out of our hands; it does not exist." — "5308. You would only 
+then do in London what they do in Manchester every day of the week? — Yes." 
+
+Particularly clever is Chapman's reply to a question posed by Cayley (a Birmingham man of the Attwood 
+school) regarding Over-stone's conception of capital: "5315. It has been stated before this Committee, 
+that in a pressure like that of 1847, men are not looking for money, but are looking for capital; what is 
+your opinion in that respect? — I do not understand it; we only deal in money; I do not understand what 
+you mean by it." — "5316. If you mean thereby [commercial capital I the quantity of money which a man 
+has of his own in his business, if you call that capital, it forms, in most cases, a very small proportion of 
+the money which he wields in his affairs through the credit which is given him by the public" — through 
+the mediation of the Chapmans. 
+
+"5339. Is it the want of property that makes us give up our specie payments? — Not at all... It is not that 
+we want property, but it is that we are moving under a highly artificial system; and if we have an 
+immense superincumbent demand upon our currency, circumstances may arise to prevent our obtaining 
+that currency. Is the whole commercial industry of the country to be paralysed? Shall we shut up all the 
+avenues of employment?" — "5338. If the question should arise whether we should maintain specie 
+payments, or whether we should maintain the industry of the country, I have no hesitation in saying 
+which I should drop." 
+
+Concerning the hoarding of bank-notes "with a view to aggravate the pressure and to take advantage of 
+the consequences" he says that this can very easily occur. Three large banks would be sufficient. "5383. 
+Must it not be within your knowledge, as a man conversant with the great transactions of this metropolis, 
+that capitalists do avail themselves of these crises to make enormous profit out of the ruin of the people 
+who fall victims to them? — There can be no doubt about it." — And we may well believe Mr. Chapman 
+on this score, although he finally broke his own neck, commercially speaking, in an attempt at making 
+"enormous profit out of the ruin of victims." For while his associate Gurney says: Every change in 
+business is advantageous for one who is well informed, Chapman says: "The one section of the 
+community knows nothing of the other; one is the manufacturer, for instance; who exports to the 
+continent, or imports his raw commodity; he knows nothing of the man who deals in bullion." (5046.) — 
+And thus it happened that one fine day Gurney and Chapman themselves "were not well informed" and 
+went into ill-famed bankruptcy. 
+
+We have previously seen that note issue does not in all cases signify an advance of capital. The following 
+testimony by Tooke before the C. D. Committee of Lords, 1848, indicates merely that an advance of 
+capital, even if accomplished by the bank through an issue of new notes, does not unqualifiedly signify 
+an increase in the number of circulating notes: 
+
+"3099. Do you think that the Bank of England for instance might enlarge its advances greatly, and yet 
+lead to no additional issue of notes? — There are facts in abundance to prove it; one of the most striking 
+instances was in 1835, when the Bank made use of the West India deposits and of the loan from the East 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 33 
+
+India Company in extended advances to the public. At that time the amount of notes in the hands of the 
+public was actually rather diminished. And something like the same discrepancy is observable in 1846 at 
+the time of the payment of the railway deposits into the Bank; the securities [in discount and deposits] 
+were increased to about thirty million, while there was no perceptible effect upon the amount of notes in 
+the hands of the public." 
+
+Aside from bank-notes, wholesale trade has another medium of circulation, which is far more important 
+to it, namely, bills of exchange. Mr. Chapman showed us how essential it is for the regular flow of 
+business that good hills of exchange be accepted in payment everywhere and under all conditions. "Gilt 
+nicht mehr der Tausves Jontof, was soil gelten, Zeter, Zeter!" ["If the Tausves-Jontof s nothing, What is 
+left? vile detractor!" — Heine, Disputation. — Ed.]* How are these two media of circulation related to 
+one another? 
+
+Gilbart writes on this score: "... The reduction of the amount of the note circulation uniformly increases 
+the amount of the bill circulation. These bills are of two classes-commercial bills and bankers' bills... 
+when money becomes scarce, the money-lenders say, 'draw upon us and we will accept'. And when a 
+country banker discounts a bill for his customer, instead of giving him the cash, he will give him his own 
+draft at twenty-one days upon his London agent. These bills serve the purpose of a currency." (J. W. 
+Gilbart, An Inquiry into the Causes of the Pressure, etc., p. 31.) 
+
+This is corroborated in somewhat modified form by Newmarch, B. A. 1857, No. 1426: 
+
+"There is no connection between the variations in the amount of bill circulation and the variations in the 
+bank-note circulation... the only pretty uniform result is... that whenever there is any pressure upon the 
+money-market, as indicated by a rise in the rate of discount, then the volume of the. bill circulation is 
+very much increased, and vice versa." 
+
+However, the bills of exchange drawn at such times are by no means only the short-term bank-bills 
+mentioned by Gilbart. On the contrary, they are largely bills of accommodation, which represent no real 
+transaction at all, or simply transactions made for the sole purpose of drawing bills of exchange on them; 
+we have presented sufficient illustrations of both. Hence the Economist (Wilson) says in comparing the 
+security of such bills with that of bank-notes: "Notes payable on demand can never be kept out in excess, 
+because the excess would always return to the bank for payment, while bills at two months may be issued 
+in great excess, there being no means of checking the issue till they have arrived at maturity, when they 
+may have been replaced by others. For a people to admit the safety of the circulation of bills payable only 
+on a distant day, and to object to the safety of a circulation of paper payable on demand, is, to us, 
+perfectly unaccountable." (Economist, May 22, 1847, p. 575.) 
+
+The quantity of circulating bills of exchange, therefore, like that of bank-notes, is determined solely by 
+the requirements of commerce; in ordinary times, there circulated in the fifties in the United Kingdom, in 
+addition to 39 million in bank-notes, about 300 million in bills of exchange — of which 100-120 million 
+were made out on London alone. The volume of circulating bills of exchange has no influence on note 
+circulation and is influenced by the latter only in times of money tightness, when the quantity of hills 
+increases and their quality deteriorates. Finally, in a period of crisis, the circulation of bills collapses 
+completely; nobody can make use of a promise to pay since everyone will accept only cash payment; 
+only the bank-note retains, at least thus far in England, its ability to circulate, because the nation with its 
+total wealth backs up the Bank of England. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 33 
+
+We have seen that even Mr. Chapman, who after all was himself a magnate on the money-market in 
+1857, complains bitterly that there were several large money-capitalists in London strong enough to 
+disrupt the whole money-market at any given moment and thereby bleed white the smaller 
+money-dealers. There were several such money sharks, he said, who could considerably intensify a 
+stringency by selling one or two million's worth of consols and thereby withdrawing an equal amount of 
+bank-notes (and simultaneously available loan capital) from the market. The joint action of three large 
+banks would suffice to transform a stringency into a panic by a similar manoeuvre. 
+
+The largest capital power in London is, of course, the Bank of England, which, however, is prevented by 
+its status as a semi-government institution from showing its domination in such a brutal manner. 
+Nevertheless it also knows enough about ways and means of feathering its nest, particularly since the 
+Bank Act of 1844. 
+
+The Bank of England has a capital of £14,553,000, and in addition has at its disposal about £3 million 
+"balance," that is, undistributed profits, as well as all money collected by the government for taxes, etc., 
+which must be deposited with the Bank until it is needed. If we add to this the sum of other deposits, 
+about £30 million in ordinary times, and the bank-notes issued without reserve backing, we shall find that 
+Newmarch made a rather conservative estimate in stating (B. A. 1857, No. 4889): "I satisfied myself that 
+the amount of funds constantly employed in the [London] money-market may be described as something 
+like £420,000,000; and of that £120,000,000 a very considerable proportion, something like 15 or 20 per 
+cent, is wielded by the Bank of England." 
+
+In so far as the Bank issues notes which are not covered by the bullion reserve in its vaults, it creates 
+symbols of value that constitute for it not only circulating medium, but also additional — even if fictitious 
+— capital to the nominal amount of these unbacked notes. And this additional capital yields additional 
+profit. — In B. A. 1857, Wilson questions Newmarch: "1563. The circulation of a banker, so far as it is 
+kept out upon the average, is an addition t9 the effective capital of that banker, is it not? — Certainly." — 
+"4564. Then whatever profit he derives from that circulation is a profit derived from credit, and not from 
+a capital which he actually possesses? — Certainly." 
+
+The same is true, of course, for private banks issuing notes. In his replies Nos. 1866 to 1868, Newmarch 
+considers two-thirds of all bank-notes issued by them (the last third has to be covered by bullion reserve 
+in these banks) as "the creation of so much capital", because this amount of coin is saved. The profit of 
+the banker as a result of this may not be larger than that of other capitalists. The fact remains that he 
+draws the profit out of this national saving of coin. The fact that a national saving becomes a private 
+profit does not shock the bourgeois economist in the least, since profit is generally the appropriation of 
+national labour. Is there anything more absurd, for instance, than the Bank of England (1797 to 1817) — 
+whose notes have credit only thanks to the state — taking payment from the state, i.e., from the public, in 
+the form of interest on government loans, for the power granted it by the state to transform these same 
+notes from paper into money and then to lend it back to the state? 
+
+The banks, incidentally, have still other means of creating capital. Again according to Newmarch, the 
+country banks, as mentioned above, are accustomed to send their superfluous funds (that is, Bank of 
+England notes) to London bill-brokers, in return for discounted bills of exchange. With these bills of 
+exchange, the bank serves its customers, since it follows a rule not to reissue bills of exchange received 
+from its local customers, in order to prevent their business transactions from becoming known in their 
+own neighbourhood. These bills received from London not only serve the purpose of being issued to 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 33 
+
+customers who have to make direct payments in London, in the event they do not prefer to get the bank's 
+own draft on London; they also serve to settle payments locally, since the banker's endorsement secures 
+local credit for them. Thus, in Lancashire, for instance, all the local banks' own notes and a large portion 
+of Bank of England notes have been pushed out of circulation by such bills. (Ibid., 1568 to 1574.) 
+
+Thus we see here how banks create credit and capital by 1) issuing their own notes, 2) writing out drafts 
+on London running up to 21 days, but paid in cash to them immediately on issue and 3) paying out 
+discounted bills of exchange, which are endowed with credit primarily and essentially by endorsement 
+through the bank — at least as far as concerns the local district. 
+
+The power of the Bank of England is revealed by its regulation of the market rate of interest. In times of 
+normal activity, it may happen that the Bank cannot prevent a moderate drain of gold from its bullion, 
+reserve by raising the discount rate [121 because the demand for means of payment is satisfied by private 
+banks, stock banks and bill-brokers, who have gained considerably in capital power during the last thirty 
+years. In such case, the Bank of England must have recourse to other means. But the statement made by 
+banker Glyn (of Glyn, Mills, Currie & Co.) before the C. D. 1848/57 still holds good for critical periods: 
+— "1709. Under circumstances of great pressure upon the country the Bank of England commands the 
+rate of interest." — "1740. In times of extraordinary pressure... whenever the discounts of the private 
+bankers or brokers become comparatively limited, they fall upon the Bank of England, and then it is that 
+the Bank of England has the power of commanding the market rate." 
+
+Nevertheless, the Bank of England, being a public institution under government protection and enjoying 
+corresponding privileges, cannot exploit its power as ruthlessly as does private business. For this reason 
+Hubbard remarks before the Banking Committee (B. A. 1857): "2844. [Question:] Is not it the case that 
+when the rate of discount is highest, the Bank is the cheapest place to go, and that when it is the lowest, 
+the bill-brokers are the cheapest parties? — [Hubbard:] That will always be the case, because the Bank of 
+England never goes quite so low as its competitors, and when the rate is highest, it is never quite as 
+high." 
+
+But it is a serious event in business life nevertheless when, in time of stringency, the Bank of England 
+puts on the screw, as the saying goes, that is, when it raises still higher the interest rate which is already 
+above average. "As soon as the Bank puts on the screw, all purchases for foreign exportation 
+immediately cease... the exporters wait until prices have reached the lowest point of depression; and then, 
+and not till then, they make their purchases. But when this point has arrived, the exchanges have been 
+rectified — gold ceases to be exported before the lowest point of depression has arrived. Purchases of 
+goods for exportation may have the effect of bringing back some of the gold which has been sent abroad, 
+but they come too late to prevent the drain." (J. W. Gilbart, An Inquiry into the Causes of the Pressure on 
+the Money-Market, London, 1840, p. 35.) — "Another effect of regulating the currency by the foreign 
+exchanges is that it leads in seasons of pressure to an enormous rate of interest." {hoc. cit., p. 40.) — "The 
+cost of rectifying the exchanges falls upon the productive industry of the country, while during the 
+process the profits of the Bank of England are actually augmented in consequence of carrying on her 
+business with a less amount of treasure." {hoc. cit., p. 52.) 
+
+But, says friend Samuel Gurney, "The great fluctuations in the rate of interest are advantageous to 
+bankers and dealers in money — all fluctuations in trade are advantageous to the knowing man. And even 
+though the Gurneys skim off the cream by ruthlessly exploiting the precarious state of business, whereas 
+the Bank of England cannot do so with the same liberty, nevertheless it also makes a very pretty profit — 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 33 
+
+not to mention the personal profits falling into the laps of its directors, as a result of their exceptional 
+opportunity for ascertaining the general state of business. According to data submitted to the Lords' 
+Committee of 1817 when cash payments were resumed, these profits accruing to the Bank of England for 
+the entire period from 1797 to 1817 were as follows: 
+
+Bonuses and increased dividends 7,45 1 , 1 36 
+
+New stock divided among proprietors 7,276,500 
+
+Increased value of capital 14,553,000 
+
+Total 29,280,636 
+
+This, on a capital of £11,642,100 over a period of 19 years. (D. Hardcastle, Banks and Bankers, 2nd ed., 
+London, 1843, p. 120.) If we estimate the total gain of the Bank of Ireland, which also suspended cash 
+payments in 1797, by the same method, we obtain the following result: 
+
+Dividends as by returns due 1821 4,736,085 
+
+Declared bonus 1,225,000 
+
+Increased assets 1,214,800 
+
+Increased value of capital 4, 1 85,000 
+
+Total 11,360,885 
+
+This, on a capital of £3 million. (Ibid., pp. 363-64.) 
+
+Talk about centralisation! The credit system, which has its focus in the so-called national banks and the 
+big money-lenders and usurers surrounding them, constitutes enormous centralisation, and gives to this 
+class of parasites the fabulous power, not only to periodically despoil industrial capitalists, but also to 
+interfere in actual production in a most dangerous manner-and this gang knows nothing about production 
+and has nothing to do with it. The Acts of 1844 and 1845 are proof of the growing power of these 
+bandits, who are augmented by financiers and stock-jobbers. 
+
+Should anyone still doubt that these esteemed bandits exploit the national and world production solely in 
+the interests of production and the exploited themselves, he will surely learn better from the following 
+homily on the high moral worth of bankers: "Banking establishments are... moral and religious 
+institutions... How often has the fear of being seen by the watchful and reproving eye of his banker 
+deterred the young tradesman from joining the company of riotous and extravagant friends?... What has 
+been his anxiety to stand well in the estimation of his banker?... Has not the frown of his banker been of 
+more influence with him than the jeers and discouragements of his friends? Has he not trembled to be 
+supposed guilty of deceit or the slightest misstatement, lest it should give rise to suspicion, and his 
+accommodation be in consequence restricted or discontinued?... And has not that friendly advice been of 
+more value to him than that of priest?" (G. M. Bell, a Scottish bank director, in The Philosophy of Joint 
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 33 
+
+Stock Banking, London, 1840, pp. 46, 47.) 
+
+
+
+Footnotes 
+
+fill Average number of days during which a bank-note remained in circulation: 
+Year £5 Note £10 Note £20-100 £200-500 £1,000 
+1792 ? 236 209 31 22 
+
+1818 1 48 137 121 48 13 
+
+1846 79 71 34 12 8 
+
+1856 70 58 27 9 7 
+
+(Compilation by Marshall, Cashier of the Bank of England, in Report on Bank Act, 1857. Appendix II, 
+pp. 300-01.) 
+
+fl21 At the general meeting of stockholders of the Union Bank of London on January 17, 1894, President 
+Ritchie relates that the Bank of England raised the discount in 1893 from 2 1/2% in July to 3 and 4% in 
+August, and since it lost within four weeks fully £4i/2 million in gold despite this, it raised the bank-rate 
+to 5%, whereupon gold flowed back to it and the bank, rate was reduced to 4% in September and then to 
+3% in October. But this bank-rate was not recognised in the market. "When the bank-rate was 5%, the 
+discount rate was 3 1/2%, and the rate for money 2 1/2%; when the bank-rate fell to 4%, the discount rate 
+was 2 3/8% and the money rate b/4%; when the bank-rate was 3%, the discount rate fell to h/2% and the 
+money rate to something below that." (Daily News, January 18, 1894.) — F.E. 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 34 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 34 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+PartV 
+
+DIVISION OF PROFIT INTO INTEREST AND PROFIT 
+
+OF ENTERPRISE. 
+
+INTEREST-BEARING CAPITAL 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 34 
+
+The Currency Principle and the English Bank 
+Legislation of 1844 
+
+
+
+[In a former work, Ricardo's theory on the value of money as related to commodity-prices has been 
+analysed; we can, therefore, confine ourselves here to the indispensable. According to Ricardo, the value 
+of metallic money is determined by the labour-time incorporated in it, but only as long as the quantity of 
+money stands in correct relationship to the amount and price of commodities to be exchanged. If the 
+quantity of money rises above this ratio, its value falls and commodity-prices rise; if it fails below the 
+correct ratio, its value rises and commodity-prices fall-assuming all other conditions equal. In the first 
+case, the country in which this excess gold exists will export the gold whose value has depreciated and 
+import commodities; in the second case, gold will flow to those countries in which it is assessed above its 
+value, while the under-assessed commodities flow from these countries to other markets, where they 
+command normal prices. Since under these circumstances "gold itself may become, either as coin or 
+bullion, a token of metallic value of greater or smaller magnitude than its own value, it is self-evident 
+that convertible bank-notes in circulation must share the same fate. Although bank-notes are convertible, 
+and therefore their real value corresponds to their nominal value, the aggregate currency consisting of 
+metal and of convertible notes may appreciate or depreciate in accordance with its aggregate quantity, for 
+reasons already stated, rising above or falling below the level determined by the exchange-value of 
+circulating commodities and the metallic value of gold... This depreciation, not of paper as compared 
+with gold, but of gold and paper taken together, or of the aggregate currency of a country, is one of 
+Ricardo's principal discoveries which Lord Overstone and Co. pressed into their service and made a 
+fundamental principle of Sir Robert Peel's bank legislation of 1844 and 1845." {hoc. cit., p. 155.) 
+
+We need not here repeat a demonstration of the incorrectness of this Ricardian theory which is given in 
+the cited work. We are merely interested in the way Ricardo's theses were elaborated by that school of 
+bank theorists who dictated Peel's above-mentioned Bank Acts. 
+
+
+
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+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 34 
+
+"The commercial crises of the 19th century, especially the great crises of 1825 and 1836, did not result in 
+any new developments in the Ricardian theory of money, but they did furnish new applications for it. 
+These were no longer isolated economic phenomena, such as the depreciation of precious metals in the 
+16th and 17th centuries according to Hume, or the depreciation of paper money in the 18th and early 
+19th centuries according to Ricardo; these were instead the violent storms in the world-market wherein 
+the conflict of all elements of the capitalist production process discharges itself, and whose origin and 
+cure were sought in the most superficial and abstract sphere of this process, the sphere of money 
+circulation. The actual theoretical assumption from which the school of economic weather prophets 
+proceeds, is actually reduced to the dogma that Ricardo discovered the laws governing the purely 
+metallic currency. The only thing remaining for them to do was to subordinate credit and bank-note 
+circulation to these laws. 
+
+"The most general and palpable phenomenon in commercial crises is the sudden general decline in prices 
+following a prolonged over-all rise. The general decline in commodity-prices may be expressed as a rise 
+in the relative value of money with respect to all commodities, and the general price rise as a decline in 
+the relative value of money. In either expression the phenomenon is described but not explained... The 
+different wording leaves the problem as little changed as would its translation from German into English. 
+Ricardo's theory of money was therefore exceedingly opportune, because it lends to a tautology the 
+semblance of a statement of causal relationship. Whence comes the periodic general fall in 
+commodity-prices? From the periodic rise of the relative value of money. Whence the general periodic 
+rise in prices? From the periodic decline in the relative value of money. It might have been stated with 
+equal truth that the periodic rise and fall of prices is due to their periodic rise and fall... Once the 
+tautology is admitted as a causal relationship, the rest follows easily. A rise in commodity-prices is 
+caused by a decline in the value of money and a decline in the value of money is caused, as we know 
+from Ricardo, by an over-supply of currency, i.e., a rise in the volume of currency over the level 
+determined by its own intrinsic value and the intrinsic value of commodities. Similarly, a general decline 
+in commodity-prices is explained by a rise in the value of money above its intrinsic value in consequence 
+of under-supply of currency. Thus, prices rise and fall periodically, because there is periodically too 
+much or too little money in circulation. Should a price rise happen to coincide with contracted money 
+circulation, and a fall in prices with expanded circulation, it may be asserted despite this that the quantity 
+of money in circulation has, though not absolutely, yet relatively increased or declined in consequence of 
+a contraction or expansion of the volume of commodities in the market, even if this cannot be statistically 
+proved. We have seen that according to Ricardo these general price fluctuations must take place even 
+with a purely metallic currency, but that they alternatively balance one another; thus, e.g., an 
+under-supply of currency causes a fall in prices, the export of commodities abroad, but this export causes 
+an import of gold from abroad, which in turn brings about a price rise; the opposite movement taking 
+place in the case of an over-supply of currency, when commodities are imported and gold is exported. 
+But, since despite these general price fluctuations which are in perfect accord with Ricardo's metallic 
+currency, their turbulent and violent form, their crisis form, belongs to the period of developed credit 
+system, it is crystal clear that the issue of bank-notes is not exactly regulated by the laws of metallic 
+currency. Metallic currency has its remedy in the import and export of precious metal, which 
+immediately enters circulation as coin and thus, by its inflow or outflow, causes commodity-prices to fall 
+or rise. The same effect on prices must now be exerted artificially by banks through imitating the laws of 
+metallic currency. If gold is coming in from abroad it proves that currency is in under-supply, that the 
+value of money is too high and commodity-prices too low, and, consequently, that bank-notes must be 
+put into circulation in proportion to the newly imported gold. On the other hand, notes must be 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 34 
+
+withdrawn from circulation in proportion to the gold exported from the country. The issue of bank-notes, 
+in other words, must be regulated by the import and export of precious metal or by the rate of exchange. 
+Ricardo's false assumption that gold is only coin, and, therefore, all imported gold swells the currency, 
+causing prices to rise, while all exported gold reduces the currency, leading to a fall in prices — this 
+theoretical assumption is here turned into the practical experiment of putting an amount of coin in 
+circulation equal in every case to the amount of gold available. Lord Overstone (banker of Jones Loyd), 
+Colonel Torrens, Norman, Clay, Arbuthnot and a host of other writers, known in England as advocates of 
+the 'Currency Principle', have not only preached this doctrine, but succeeded in 1844 and 1845 with the 
+aid of Sir Robert Peel's Bank Acts in making it the basis of English and Scottish bank legislation. Its 
+ignominious failure, both theoretical as well as practical, following upon experiments on the broadest 
+national scale, can be treated only in connection with the theory of credit." {hoc. cit., pp. 165-68.) 
+
+The critique of this school was furnished by Thomas Tooke, James Wilson (in the Economist of 1844 to 
+1847) and John Fullarton. But we have seen on several occasions, particularly in Chapter XXVIII of this 
+book, how incompletely they, too, saw through the nature of gold, and how unclear they were about the 
+relationship of money and capital. We quote here merely a few instances in connection with the 
+transactions of the Committee of the Lower House of 1857 concerning Peel's Bank Acts (B. C. 1857). — 
+F.E.] 
+
+J. G. Hubbard, former Governor of the Bank of England, testifies: "2400. The effect of the export of 
+bullion... has no reference whatever to the prices of commodities. It has an effect, and a very important 
+one, upon the price of interest-bearing securities, because, as the rate of interest varies, the value of 
+commodities which embodied that interest is necessarily powerfully affected." — He presents two tables 
+covering the years 1834 to 1843, and 1845 to 1853,* which show that the price variations of fifteen 
+major commercial articles were quite independent of the export and import of gold and the interest rate. 
+On the other hand, they show a close connection between the export and import of gold, which is, indeed, 
+the "representative of our uninvested capital," and the interest rate. — "[2402] In 1847, a very large 
+amount of American securities were retransferred to America, and Russian securities to Russia, and other 
+continental securities were transferred to those places from which we drew our supplies of grain." 
+
+The fifteen major articles on which the following tables of Hubbard are based include cotton, cotton 
+yarn, cotton fabrics, wool, woollen cloth, flax, linen, indigo, pig-iron, tin, copper, tallow, sugar, coffee, 
+and silk. 
+
+1. 1834-1843* 
+
+„ Bullion Reserve of Bank Market Rate of „ . n . „ TT , , 
+
+Date r „. . Price increase Price Decrease Unchanged 
+
+£ Discount * 
+
+1834, March 19,104,000 2 3 /4% 
+
+1835, March 16,274,000 3 3 /4% 7 7 1 
+
+1836, March 17,918,000 3i/4% Ii 3 1 
+
+1837, March 14,077,000 5% 5 9 1 
+
+1838, March 1 10,471,000 2 3 /4% 4 11 
+
+1839, Sept. 1 2,684,000 6% 8 5 2 
+
+1840, June 1 4,571,000 4 3 /4% 5 9 1 
+
+1840, Dec. 1 3,642,000 5s/4% 7 6 2 
+
+1841, Dec. 1 4,873,000 5% 3 2- 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+2l/2% 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+13 
+
+
+2l/4% 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+14 
+
+
+II. 1844-1853* 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Market Rate of 
+Discount 
+
+
+Price Increase Price Decrease U 
+
+
+2l/4% 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+— — 
+
+
+4 1/2% 
+
+
+11 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+3% 
+
+
+7 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+6% 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+6 3 
+
+
+2l/2% 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+9 1 
+
+
+3% 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+11 2 
+
+
+la/4% 
+
+
+9 
+
+
+5 1 
+
+
+5% 
+
+
+14 
+
+
+I 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 34 
+
+1842, Dec. 1 10,603,000 
+
+1843, June 1 11,566,000 
+
+* Price changes on 15 major items 
+
+
+
+_ Bullion Reserve of Bank 
+
+Date f 
+
+1844, March 1 16,162,000 
+
+1845, Dec 1 13,237,000 
+
+1846, Sept. 1 16,366,000 
+
+1847, Sept. 1 9,140,000 
+
+1850, March 1 17,126,000 
+
+1851, June 1 13,705,000 
+
+1852, Sept. 1 21,853,000 
+
+1853, Dec. 1 15,093,000 
+
+* Price changes on 15 major items 
+
+Hubbard comments in this regard: "As in the 10 years 1834-43, so in 1844-53, movements in the bullion 
+of the Bank were invariably accompanied by a decrease or increase in the loanable value of money 
+advanced on discount; and the variations in the prices of commodities in this country exhibit an entire 
+independence of the amount of circulation as shown in the fluctuations in bullion at the Bank of 
+England" (Bank Acts Report, 1857, II, pp. 290, 291). 
+
+Since the demand and supply of commodities regulate their market-prices, it becomes evident here how 
+wrong Overstone is in identifying the demand for loanable money-capital (or rather the deviations of 
+supply therefrom), as expressed by the discount rate, with the demand for actual "capital." The 
+contention that commodity-prices are regulated by fluctuations in the quantity of currency is now 
+concealed by the phrase that discount rate fluctuations express fluctuations in the demand for actual 
+material capital, as distinct from money-capital. We have seen that before the same Committee both 
+Norman and Overstone actually contended this, and that the latter especially was compelled to resort to 
+very lame subterfuges, until he was finally cornered (Chap. XXVI). It is indeed an old humbug that 
+changes in the existing quantity of gold in a particular country must raise or lower commodity-prices 
+within this country by increasing Or decreasing the quantity of the medium of circulation. If gold is 
+exported, then, according to this Currency Theory, commodity-prices must rise in the country importing 
+this gold, and thereby the value of exports from the gold-exporting country on the gold-importing 
+country's market; on the other hand, the value of the gold-importing country's exports would fall on the 
+gold-exporting country's market while it would rise on the domestic market, i.e., the country receiving 
+the gold. But, in fact, a decrease in the quantity of gold raises only the interest rate, whereas an increase 
+in the quantity of gold lowers the interest rate; and if not for the fact that the fluctuations in the interest 
+rate enter into the determination of cost-prices, or in the determination of demand and supply, 
+commodity prices would be wholly unaffected by them. 
+
+In the same report, N. Alexander, head of a large firm doing business with India, expresses the following 
+views on the heavy drain of silver to India and China in the mid-fifties. This was partly due to the 
+
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+
+Chinese Civil War, which checked the sale of English fabrics in China, and partly due to the disease 
+among silkworms in Europe, which sharply reduced silkworm breeding in Italy and France: 
+
+"4337. Is the drain for China or for India? — You send the silver to India, and you buy opium with a great 
+deal of it, all of which goes on to China to lay down funds for the purchase of the silk; and the state of 
+the markets in India (in spite of the accumulation of silver there) makes it a more profitable investment 
+for the merchant to lay down silver than to send piece-goods or English manufactures." — "4338. In order 
+to obtain the silver, has there not been a great drain from France? — Yes, very large." — "4344. Instead of 
+bringing in silk from France and Italy, we are sending it there in large quantities, both from Bengal and 
+from China." 
+
+In other words, silver, the money metal of that continent, was sent to Asia instead of commodities, not 
+because commodity-prices had risen in the country which produced them (England), but because prices 
+had fallen, as a result of over-imports in the country which imported them; and this despite the fact that 
+the silver was received by England from France and had to be paid for partly in gold. According to the 
+Currency Theory, prices should have fallen in England and risen in India and China as a result of such 
+imports. 
+
+Another illustration. Before the Lords' Committee (C. D. 1848/57), Wylie, one of the first Liverpool 
+merchants, testifies as follows: — "1994. At the close of 1845 there was no trade that was more 
+remunerating, and in which there were such large profits [than cotton spinning]. The stock of cotton was 
+large and good, useful cotton could be bought at 4d. per pound, and from such cotton good secunda mule 
+twist No. 40 was made at an expense not exceeding a like amount, say at a cost of 8d. per pound in all to 
+the spinner. This yarn was largely sold and con-tracted for in September and October 1845 at IO1/2 and 
+1 li/2d. per pound, and in some instances the spinners realised a profit equal to the first cost of the cotton." 
+— "1996. The trade continued to be remunerative until the beginning of 1846." — "2000. On March 
+3,1844, the stock of cotton [627,042 bales] was more than double what it is this day [on March 3, 1848, 
+when it was 301,070 bales] and yet the price then was li/4d. per pound dearer." [6i/4d. as against 5d.] — 
+At the same time yarn, good secunda mule twist No. 40, had fallen from 1 1 1/2- 1 2d. to 9i/2d. per lb. in 
+October, and to 73/4d. at the end of December 1847; yarn was sold at the purchase price of the cotton 
+from which it had been spun (ibid., Nos. 2021 and 2022). This shows the self-interest of Overstone's 
+sagacity according to which money should be "dear" because capital is "scarce." On March 3, 1844, the 
+bank interest rate stood at 3%; in October and November of 1847 it rose to 8 and 9%, and was still 4% on 
+March 3, 1848. The prices of cotton were depressed far below the price which corresponded to the state 
+of supply by the complete stoppage of sales and the panic with its ensuing high rate of interest. As a 
+result, there was an enormous decrease in imports in 1848, on the one hand, and, on the other, a decrease 
+in production in America; hence a new rise in cotton prices in 1849. According to Overstone, the 
+commodities were too dear because there was too much money in the country. 
+
+"2002. The late decline in the condition of the cotton manufactories is not to be ascribed to the want of 
+the raw material, as the price seems to have been lower, though the stock of the raw material is very 
+much diminished." How nicely Overstone confuses prices, or the value of commodities, with the value of 
+money, that is, the interest rate. In his reply to Question 2026, Wylie sums up his general judgement of 
+the Currency Theory, based on which Cardwell and Sir Charles Wood, in May 1847, "asserted the 
+necessity of carrying out the Bank Act of 1844 in its full and entire integrity." — "These principles 
+seemed to me to be of a nature that would give an artificial high value to money and an artificial and 
+ruinously low value to all commodities and produce." — He says, furthermore, concerning the effects of 
+
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+
+this Bank Act on business in general: "As hills at four months, which is the regular course of drafts, from 
+manufacturing towns on merchants and bankers for the purchase of goods going to the United States, 
+could not be discounted except at great sacrifices, the execution of orders was checked to a great extent, 
+until after the Government Letter of October 25 (suspension of the Bank Act), when those four months' 
+bills became discountable" (2097). — We see, then, that the suspension of this Bank Act was received 
+with relief in the provinces as well. — "2102. Last October [1847] there was scarcely an American buyer 
+purchasing goods here who did not at once curtail his orders as much as he possibly could; and when our 
+advices of the dearness of money reached America, all fresh orders ceased." — "2134. Corn and sugar 
+were special. The corn market was affected by the prospects of the harvest, and sugar was affected by the 
+immense stocks and imports." — "2463. Of our indebtedness to America... much was liquidated by forced 
+sales of consigned goods, and I fear that much was cancelled by the failures here." — "2196. If I recollect 
+rightly, 70 per cent was paid on our Stock Exchange in October 1847. " 
+
+[The crisis of 1837 with its protracted aftermath, followed in 1842 by a regular post-crisis, and the 
+self-interested blindness of industrialists and merchants, who absolutely refused to see any 
+over-production — for such a thing was absurd and impossible according to vulgar economy — had 
+ultimately achieved that confusion of thought which enabled the Currency School to put its dogma into 
+practice on a national scale. The bank legislation of 1844 and 1845 was passed. 
+
+The Bank Act of 1844 divides the Bank of England into an issue department and a banking department. 
+The former receives securities — principally government obligations — amounting to 14 million, and the 
+entire metal hoard, of which not more than one-quarter is to consist of silver, and issues notes to the full 
+amount of the total. In so far as these notes are not in the hands of the public, they are held in the banking 
+department and, together with the small amount of coin required for daily use (about one million), 
+constitute its ever ready reserve. The issue department gives the public gold for notes and notes for gold; 
+the remaining transactions with the public are carried on by the banking department. Private banks in 
+England and Wales authorised in 1844 to issue their own notes retained this privilege, but their note issue 
+was fixed; if one of these banks ceases to issue its own notes, the Bank of England can increase its 
+unbacked notes by two-thirds of the quota thus made available; in this way its issue was increased by 
+1892 from £14 to £16i/2 million (to be exact, £16,450,000). 
+
+Thus, for every five pounds in gold which leave the bank treasury, a five-pound note returns to the issue 
+department and is destroyed; for every five sovereigns going into the treasury a new five-pound note 
+comes into circulation. In this manner, Overstone's ideal paper circulation, which strictly follows the 
+laws of metallic circulation, is carried out in practice, and by this means, according to the advocates of 
+the Currency Theory, crises are made impossible for all time. 
+
+But in reality the separation of the Bank into two independent departments deprived its management of 
+the possibility of freely utilising its entire available means at critical times, so that situations could arise 
+in which the banking department might be on the verge of bankruptcy while the issue department still 
+had intact several millions in gold and, in addition, its entire 14 million in securities. And this could take 
+place so much more easily since there is a period in almost every crisis when heavy exports of gold take 
+place which must be covered in the main by the metal reserve of the bank. But for every five pounds in 
+gold which then go abroad, the domestic circulation is deprived of a five-pound note, so that the quantity 
+of circulating medium is reduced precisely at a time when the largest quantity is most needed. The Bank 
+Act of 1844 thus directly induces the entire commercial world forthwith to hoard a reserve fund of 
+bank-notes at the outbreak of a crisis; in other words, to accelerate and intensify the crisis. By such 
+
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+
+artificial intensification of demand for money accommodation, that is, for means of payment at the 
+decisive moment, and the simultaneous restriction of the supply the Bank Act drives the rate of interest to 
+a hitherto unknown height during a crisis. Hence, instead of eliminating crises, the Act, on the contrary, 
+intensifies them to a point where either the entire industrial world must go to pieces, or else the Bank 
+Act. Both on October 25, 1847, and on November 12, 1857, the crisis reached such a point; the 
+government then lifted the restriction for the Bank in issuing notes by suspending the Act of 1844, and 
+this sufficed in both cases to overcome the crisis. In 1847, the assurance that bank-notes would again be 
+issued for first-class securities sufficed to bring to light the £4 to £5 million of hoarded notes and put 
+them back into circulation; in 1857, the issue of notes exceeding the legal amount reached almost one 
+million, but this lasted only for a very short time. 
+
+It should also be mentioned that the 1844 legislation still shows traces recalling the first twenty years of 
+the 19th century, the period when specie payments were suspended and notes devaluated. The fear that 
+notes may lose their credit is still plainly in evidence. But this fear is quite groundless, since even in 1825 
+the issue of a discovered old supply of one-pound notes, which had been taken out of circulation, broke 
+the crisis and proved thereby that the credit of the notes remained unshaken even in times of the most 
+general and deepest mistrust. And this is quite understandable; for, after all, the entire nation backs up 
+these symbols of value with its credit. — F.E.] 
+
+Let us now turn to a few comments on the effect of the Bank Act. John Stuart Mill believes that the Bank 
+Act of 1844 [In the German 1894 edition this reads: 1847. — Ed] kept down over-speculation. Happily 
+this sage spoke on June 12, 1857. Four months later the crisis broke out. He literally congratulated the 
+"bank directors and the commercial public generally" on the fact that they "understand much better than 
+they did the nature of a commercial crisis, and the extreme mischief which they do both to themselves 
+and to the public by upholding over-speculation." (B.C. 1857, No. 2031.) 
+
+The sagacious Mr. Mill thinks that if one-pound notes are issued "as advances to manufacturers and 
+others, who pay wages... the notes may get into the hands of others who expend them for consumption, 
+and in that case the notes do constitute in themselves a demand for commodities and may for some time 
+tend to promote a rise of prices" [2066]. Does Mr. Mill assume, then, that manufacturers will pay higher 
+wages because they pay them in paper instead of gold? Or does he believe that if a manufacturer receives 
+his loan in £100 notes and exchanges them for gold, these wages would constitute less demand than if 
+paid immediately in one-pound notes? And does he not know that, for instance, in certain mining districts 
+wages were paid in the notes of local banks, so that several labourers together received one five-pound 
+note? Does this increase their demand? Or will bankers advance money to manufacturers more easily and 
+in larger quantities in small notes than in large ones? 
+
+[This singular fear which Mill has for one-pound notes would be inexplicable if his whole work on 
+political economy did not reveal an eclecticism which shows no hesitation in the face of any 
+contradiction. On the one hand, he agrees on many points with Tooke as opposed to Overstone; on the 
+other, be believes that commodity-prices are determined by the quantity of available money. He is thus 
+by no means convinced that, all other conditions being equal, a sovereign will find its way into the 
+coffers of the Bank for every one-pound note issued. He fears that the quantity of circulating medium 
+could be increased and thereby devaluated, that is, commodity-prices might rise. This and nothing more 
+is concealed behind the above-mentioned apprehension. — F.E.) 
+
+Tooke expresses the following views before the C. D. 1848/57 concerning the division of the Bank into 
+
+
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+
+two departments and the excessive precautions taken to safeguard the cashing of notes: 
+
+The greater fluctuations of the interest rate in 1847, as compared with 1837 and 1839, are due solely to 
+the separation of the Bank into two departments (3010). — The safety of bank-notes was affected neither 
+in 1825 nor in 1837 and 1839 (3015). — The demand for gold in 1825 was aimed only at filling the 
+vacuum created by the complete discredit of the one-pound notes of country banks; this vacuum could be 
+filled only by gold, until such time as the Bank of England also issued one-pound notes (3022). — In 
+November and December 1825 not the slightest demand existed for gold for export purposes (3023). 
+
+"In point of discredit at home as well as abroad, a failure in paying the dividends and the deposits would 
+be of far greater consequence than the suspending of the payment of the bank-notes (3028)." 
+
+"3035. Would you not say that any circumstance, which had the effect of ultimately endangering the 
+convertibility of the note, would be one likely to add serious difficulty in a moment of commercial 
+pressure? — Not at all." 
+
+"In the course of 1847... an increased issue from the circulating department might have contributed to 
+replenish the coffers of the Bank, as it did in 1825" (3058). 
+
+Before the Committee on B. A. 1857, Newmarch testifies: "1357. The first mischievous effect... of that 
+separation of departments (of the Bank) and... a necessary consequence from the cutting in two of the 
+reserve of bullion has been that the banking business of the Bank of England, that is to say, the whole of 
+that part of the operation of the Bank of England which brings it more immediately into contact with the 
+commerce of the country, has been carried on upon a moiety only of its former amounts of reserve. Out 
+of that division of the reserve has arisen, therefore, this state of things, that whenever the reserve of the 
+banking department has been diminished, even to a small extent, it has rendered necessary an action by 
+the Bank upon its rate of discount. That diminished reserve, therefore, has produced a frequent 
+succession of changes and jerks in the rate of discount." — "1358. The alterations since 1844" [until June 
+1857] "have been some 60 in number, whereas the alterations prior to 1844 in the same space of time 
+certainly did not amount to a dozen. " 
+
+Of special interest is the testimony of Palmer, a Director of the Bank of England since 1811 and for a 
+while its Governor, before the Lords' Committee on C. D. 1848/57: 
+
+"828. In December 1825, there was about £1,100,000 of bullion remaining in the Bank. At that period it 
+must undoubtedly have failed in toto, if this Act had been in existence [meaning the Act of 1844]. The 
+issue in December, I think, was 5 or 6 millions of notes in a week, which relieved the panic that existed 
+at that period." 
+
+"825. The first period [since July 1, 1825] when the present Act would have failed, if the Bank had 
+attempted to carry out the transactions then undertaken, was on the 28th of February 1837; at that period 
+there were £3,900,000 to £4,000,000 of bullion in the possession of the Bank, and then the Bank would 
+have been left with £650,000 only in the reserve. Another period is in the year 1839, which continued 
+from the 9th of July to the 5th of December." — "826. What was the amount of the reserve in that case? — 
+The reserve was minus altogether £200,000 upon the 5th of September. On the 5th of November it rose 
+to about a million or a million and a half." — "830. The Act of 1844 would have prevented the Bank 
+giving assistance to the American trade in 1837." — "831. There were three of the principal American 
+houses that failed... Almost every house connected with America was in a state of discredit, and unless 
+the Bank had come forward at that period, I do not believe that there would have been more than one or 
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+
+two houses that could have sustained themselves." — "836. The pressure in 1837 is not to be compared 
+with that of 1847. The pressure in the former year was chiefly confined to the American trade." — 838. 
+(Early in June 1837 the management of the Bank discussed the question of overcoming the pressure.) 
+"Some gentlemen advocated the opinion... that the correct principle was to raise the rate of interest, by 
+which the price of commodities would be lowered; in short, to make money dear and commodities cheap, 
+by which the foreign payment would be accomplished." — "906. The establishment of an artificial 
+limitation of the powers of the Bank under the Act of 1844, instead of the ancient and natural limitation 
+of the Bank's powers, namely, the actual amount of its specie, tends to create artificial difficulty, and 
+therefore an operation upon the prices of merchandise that would have been unnecessary but for the 
+provisions of the Act." — "968. You cannot, by the working of the Act of 1844, materially reduce the 
+bullion, under ordinary circumstances, below nine million and a half. It would then cause a pressure upon 
+prices and credit which would occasion such an advance in the exchange with foreign countries as 10 
+increase the import of bullion, and to that extent add to the amount in the issue department." — "996. 
+Under the limitation that you [the Bank] are now subject to, you have not the command of silver to an 
+extent that you require at a time when silver would be required for an action upon the foreign 
+exchanges." — "999. What was the object of the regulation restricting the Bank as to the amount of silver 
+to one-fifth? — I cannot answer that question." 
+
+The purpose was to make money dear; aside from the Currency Theory, the separation of the two bank 
+departments and the requirement for Scottish and Irish banks to hold gold in reserve for backing notes 
+issued beyond a certain amount had the same purpose. This brought about a decentralisation of the 
+national metal reserve, which decreased its capability of correcting unfavourable exchange rates. All the 
+following stipulations aim to raise the interest rate: that the Bank of England shall not issue notes 
+exceeding 14 million except against gold reserve; that the banking department shall be administered as 
+an ordinary bank, forcing the interest rate down when money is plentiful and driving it, up when money 
+is scarce; limiting the silver reserve, the principal means of rectifying the rates of exchange with the 
+continent and Asia; the regulations concerning the Scottish and Irish banks, which never require gold for 
+export but must now keep it under the pretence of ensuring an actually illusory convertibility of their 
+notes. The fact is that the Act of 1844 caused a run on the Scottish banks for gold in 1857 for the first 
+time. Nor does the new bank legislation make any distinction between a drain of gold abroad or for 
+domestic purposes, although it goes without saying that their effects are quite different. Hence the 
+continual large fluctuations in the market rate of interest. With reference to silver, Palmer says on two 
+separate occasions, 992 and 994, that the Bank can buy silver for notes only when the rate of exchange is 
+favourable for England, i.e., silver is superfluous; for: "1003. The only object in holding a considerable 
+amount of bullion in silver is to facilitate making the foreign payment so long as the exchanges are 
+against the country." — "1004. Silver is... a commodity which, being money in every other part of the 
+world, is therefore the most direct commodity for the purpose" [payments abroad]. "The United States 
+latterly have taken gold alone." 
+
+In his opinion, the Bank did not have to raise the interest rate above its old level of 5% in times of 
+stringency, so long as unfavourable exchange rates do not drain gold to foreign countries. Were it not for 
+the Act of 1844, the Bank would be able to discount all first-class bills presented to it without difficulty. 
+[1018-20.] But under the Act of 1844 and in the state in which the Bank found itself in October 1847, 
+"there was no rate of interest which the Bank could have charged to houses of credit, which they would 
+not have been willing to pay to carry on their payments" [1022]. And this high interest rate was precisely 
+the purpose of the Act. 
+
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+" 1029... Great distinction which I wish to draw between the action of the rate of interest upon a foreign 
+demand [for precious metal] and an advance in the rate for the object of checking a demand upon the 
+Bank during a period of internal discredit." — "4023. Previously to the Act of 4844... when the exchanges 
+were in favour of the country, and positive panic and alarm existed through the country, there was no 
+limit put upon the issue, by which alone that state of distress could be relieved." 
+
+So speaks a man who has occupied a post for 39 years in the administration of the Bank of England. Let 
+us now listen to a private banker, Twells, an associate of Spooner, Attwood & Co. since 1801. He is 
+alone among the witnesses before the B. C. 4857 who provides us with an insight into the country's 
+actual state of affairs and who sees the crisis approaching. In other respects, however, he is a sort of 
+little- shilling man from Birmingham, like his associates, the Attwood brothers, who are the founders of 
+this school. (See Zur Kritik derpol. Oeh, S. 59.) He testifies: "4488. How do you think that the Act of 
+1844 has operated? — If I were to answer you as a banker, I should say that it has operated exceedingly 
+well, for it has afforded a rich harvest to bankers and [money-] capitalists of all kinds. But it has operated 
+very badly to the honest industrious trades-man who requires steadiness in the rate of discount, that he 
+may be enabled to make his arrangements with confidence... It has made money-lending a most 
+profitable pursuit." — "4489. It [the Bank Act,] enables the London joint- stock banks to return from 20 to 
+22% to their proprietors? — The other day one of them was paying 18% and I think another 20%; they 
+ought to support the Act of 1844 very strongly." — "4490. The little tradesmen and respectable 
+merchants, who have not a large capital... it pinches them very much indeed... The only means that I have 
+of knowing is that I observe such an amazing quantity of their acceptances unpaid. They are always 
+small, perhaps ranging from £20 to £400, a great many of them are unpaid and go back unpaid to all parts 
+of the country, which is always an indication of suffering amongst... little shopkeepers." — 4494. He 
+declares that business is not profitable now. The following remarks of his are important because they 
+show that he saw the latent existence of the crisis when none of the others had even an inkling of it. 
+
+"4494. Things keep their prices in Mincing Lane, but we sell nothing, we cannot sell upon any terms; we 
+keep the nominal price." — 4495. He relates the following case: A Frenchman sends a broker in Mincing 
+Lane commodities for £3,000 to be sold at a certain price. The broker cannot obtain the requested price, 
+and the Frenchman cannot sell below this price. The commodities remain unsold, but the Frenchman 
+needs money. The broker therefore makes him an advance of £1,000 and has the French man draw a bill 
+of exchange of £1,000 for three months on the broker against his commodities as security. At the end of 
+the three months the bill becomes due, but the commodities still remain unsold. The broker must then 
+pay the bill, and although he possesses security for £3,000, he cannot convert it into cash and as a result 
+faces difficulties. In this manner, one person drags another down with him. — "4496. With regard to the 
+large exports... where there is a depressed state of trade at home, it necessarily forces large exportation." 
+— "4497. Do you think that the home consumption has been diminished? — Very much indeed... 
+immensely... the shopkeepers are the best authorities." — "4498. Still the importations are very large; does 
+not that indicate a large consumption? — It does, if you can sell; but many of the warehouses are full of 
+these things; in this very instance which I have been relating, there is £3,000 worth imported, which 
+cannot be sold." 
+
+"4514. When money is dear, would you say that capital would be cheap? — Yes. "This man, then, is by 
+no means of Overstone's opinion that a high rate of interest is the same as dear capital. 
+
+The following shows how business is now conducted: "4616. Others are going to a very great extent, 
+carrying on a prodigious trade in exports and imports, to an extent far beyond what their capital justifies 
+
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+
+them in doing; there can be no doubt of all of that. These men may succeed; they may by some lucky 
+venture get large fortunes, and put themselves right. That is very much the system in which a great deal 
+of trade is now carried on. Persons will consent to lose 20, 30, and 40 per cent upon a shipment; the next 
+venture may bring it back to them. If they fail in one after another, then they are broken up; and that is 
+just the case which we have often seen recently; mercantile houses have broken up, without one shilling 
+of property being left." 
+
+"4791. The low rate of interest [during the last ten years] operates against bankers, it is true, but I should 
+have very great difficulty in explaining to you, unless I could show you the books, how much higher the 
+profits [his own] are now than they used to be formerly. When interest is low, from excessive issues, we 
+have large deposits; when interest is high, we get the advantage in that way." — "4794. When money is at 
+a moderate rate, we have more demand for it; we lend more; it operates in that way [for us, the bankers]. 
+When it gets higher, we get more than a fair proportion for it; we get more than we ought to do." 
+
+We have seen that the credit of Bank of England notes is considered beyond question by all experts. 
+Nevertheless, the Bank Act completely ties up nine to ten million in gold for the convertibility of these 
+notes. The sacredness and inviolability of this reserve is thereby carried much farther than among 
+hoarders of olden times. Mr. Brown (Liverpool) testifies, C. D. 1847/57: "2311: This money [the metal 
+reserve in the issue department] might as well have been thrown into the sea from any use that it was of 
+at that time, there being no power to employ any of it without violating the Act of Parliament." 
+
+The building contractor E. Capps, already cited earlier, whose testimony is also used to illustrate the 
+modern building system in London (Vol. II, Ch. XII), sums up his opinion of the Bank Act of 1844 as 
+follows [B. A. 1857]: "5508. Then upon the whole... you think that the present system [of bank 
+legislation] is a somewhat adroit scheme for bringing the profits of industry periodically into the usurer's 
+bag? — I think so. I know that it has operated so in the building trade." 
+
+As mentioned before, the Scottish banks were forced by the Bank Act of 1845 into a system resembling 
+that of the English. They were obliged to hold gold in reserve for their note issue beyond the limit fixed 
+for each bank. The effect of this may be seen from the following testimony before the C. D. 1848/57. 
+
+Kennedy, Director of a Scottish bank: "3375. Was there anything that you can call a circulation of gold 
+in Scotland previously to the passing of the Act of 1845? — None whatever." — "3376. Has there been 
+any additional circulation of gold since? — None whatever; the people dislike gold." — 3450. The sum of 
+about £900,000 in gold, which the Scottish banks are compelled to keep since 1845, can only be injurious 
+in his opinion and "absorbs unprofitably so much of the capital of Scotland." 
+
+Furthermore, Anderson, Director of the Union Bank of Scotland: "3588. The only pressure upon the 
+Bank of England by the banks in Scotland for gold was for foreign exchanges? — It was; and that is not 
+to be relieved by holding gold in Edinburgh." — "3590. Having the same amount of securities in the Bank 
+of England" [or in the private banks of England] "we have the same power that we had before of making 
+a drain upon the Bank of England." 
+
+Finally, we quote an article from the Economist (Wilson): "The Scotch banks keep unemployed amounts 
+of cash with their London agents; these keep them in the Bank of England. This gives to the Scotch 
+banks, within the limits of these amounts, command over the metal reserve of the Bank, and here it is 
+always in the place where it is needed, when foreign payments are to be made." — This system was 
+disturbed by the Act of 1845: In consequence of the Act of 1845 for Scotland "of late a large drain of the 
+
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+
+coin of the Bank has taken place, to supply a mere contingent demand in Scotland, which may never 
+occur... Since that period there has been a large sum uniformly locked up in Scotland, and another 
+considerable sum constantly travelling back and forward between London and Scotland. If a period 
+arrives when a Scotch bank expects an increased demand for its notes, a box of gold is brought down 
+from London; when this period is past, the same box, generally unopened, is sent back to London." 
+(Economist, October 23, 1847 [pp. 1214-1215].) 
+
+[And what does the father of the Bank Act, banker Samuel Jones Loyd, alias Lord Overstone, say to all 
+this? 
+
+Already in 1848 he repeated before the Lords' Committee on Commercial Distress that "pressure, and a 
+high rate of interest caused by the want of sufficient capital, cannot be relieved by an extra issue of 
+bank-notes" (1514), in spite of the fact that the mere authority to increase the note issue, given by the 
+Government's Letter of October 25, 1847, had sufficed to take the edge off the crisis. 
+
+He holds to the view that "the high rate of interest and the depression of the manufacturing interests was 
+the necessary result of the diminution of the material capital applicable to manufacturing and trading 
+purposes" (1604). And yet the depressed condition of the manufacturing industry had for months 
+consisted in material commodity-capital filling the warehouses to overflowing and being actually 
+unsaleable; so that for precisely this reason, material productive capital lay wholly or partly idle, in order 
+not to produce still more unsaleable commodity-capital. 
+
+And before the Bank Committee of 1857 he says: "By strict and prompt adherence to the principles of 
+the Act of 1844, everything has passed off with regularity and ease, the monetary system is safe and 
+unshaken, the prosperity of the country is undisputed, the public confidence in the wisdom of the Act of 
+1844 is daily gaining strength, and if the Committee wish for further practical illustration of the 
+soundness of the principles on which it rests, or of the beneficial results which it has ensured, the true 
+and sufficient answer to the Committee is, look around you, look at the present state of the trade of this 
+country,... look at the contentment of the people, look at the wealth and prosperity which pervades every 
+class of the community, and then having done so, the Committee may be fairly called upon to decide 
+whether they will interfere with the continuance of an Act under which those results have been 
+developed." (B. C. 1857, No. 4189.) 
+
+To this song of praise by Overstone before the Committee on July 14, the antistrophe was given on 
+November 12 of the same year in the shape of a letter to the Bank's management, in which the 
+government suspended the miracle-working law of 1844 to save what could still be saved. — F. E.] 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 35 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 35 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+PartV 
+
+DIVISION OF PROFIT INTO INTEREST AND PROFIT 
+
+OF ENTERPRISE. 
+
+INTEREST-BEARING CAPITAL 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 35 
+
+
+
+Precious Metal and Rate of Exchange 
+
+
+
+I. MOVEMENT OF THE GOLD RESERVE 
+
+it should be noted in regard to the accumulation of notes in times of stringency, that it is a repetition of 
+the hoarding of precious metal as used to take place in troubled times in the most primitive conditions of 
+society. The Act of 1844 is interesting in its operation because it seeks to transform all precious metal 
+existing in the country into a circulating medium; it seeks to equate a drain of gold with a contraction of 
+the circulating medium and a return flow of gold with an expansion of the circulating medium. As a 
+result, the experiment proved the contrary to be the case. With a single exception, which we shall 
+mention shortly, the quantity of circulating notes of the Bank of England has never, since 1844, reached 
+the maximum which it was authorised to issue. The crisis of 1857 proved on the other hand that this 
+maximum does not suffice under certain circumstances. From November 13 to 30, 1857, a daily average 
+of £488,830 above this maximum was circulating (B. A. 1858, p. XI). The legal maximum was at that 
+time £14,475,000, plus the amount of metal reserve in the vaults of the Bank. 
+
+Concerning the outflow and inflow of precious metal, the following is to be noted: 
+
+First, a distinction should be made between the back and forth movement of metal within a region which 
+does not produce any gold and silver, on the one hand, and, on the other, the flow of gold and silver from 
+their sources of production to various other countries and the distribution of this additional metal among 
+them. 
+
+Before the gold mines of Russia, California and Australia made their influence felt, the supply since the 
+beginning of the 19th century sufficed only for the replacement of worn-out coins, for general use in 
+articles of luxury, and for the export of silver to Asia. 
+
+However, in the first place, silver exports to Asia have since increased extraordinarily, owing to the 
+Asiatic trade of America and Europe. The silver exported from Europe was largely replaced by the 
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+
+additional supply of gold. Secondly, a portion of the newly imported gold was absorbed by internal 
+money circulation. It is estimated that up to 1857 about 30 million in gold were added to England's 
+internal circulation. \ 141 Furthermore, the average level of metal reserves in all the central banks of 
+Europe and America increased since 1844. The expansion of domestic money circulation resulted at the 
+same time in bank reserves growing more rapidly in the period of stagnation following upon the panic, 
+because of the larger quantity of gold coins thrust out of domestic circulation and immobilised. Finally, 
+the consumption of precious metal for luxury articles increased since the discovery of new gold deposits 
+as a consequence of the increased wealth. 
+
+Secondly, precious metal flows back and forth between countries which do not produce any gold or 
+silver, the same country continually importing, and also exporting. It is only the preponderance of this 
+movement in one or another direction which, in the final analysis, determines whether a drain or an 
+augmentation has taken place, since the mere oscillations and frequently parallel movements largely 
+neutralise one another. But for this reason, in so far as the result is concerned, the continuity and, in the 
+main, the parallel course of both movements is overlooked. A greater import or a greater export of 
+precious metal is always interpreted to be solely the effect and expression of the relation between the 
+imports and exports of commodities, whereas it is simultaneously indicative of the relation between 
+exports and imports of precious metal itself, quite independent of commodity trade. 
+
+Thirdly, the preponderance of imports over exports, and vice versa, is measured on the whole by the 
+increase or decrease in metal reserves of the central banks. The greater or lesser precision of this criterion 
+naturally depends primarily on the degree of centralisation of the banking business in general. For on this 
+depends the extent that precious metal in general accumulated in the so-called national banks represents 
+the national metal reserve. But assuming this to be the case, the criterion is not accurate because an 
+additional import may be absorbed under certain circumstances by domestic circulation and the growing 
+consumption of gold and silver in producing luxury articles; furthermore, because without additional 
+import, a withdrawal of gold coin for domestic circulation could take place, and thus the metal reserve 
+could decrease even without a simultaneous increase in exports. 
+
+Fourthly, an export of metal assumes the aspect of a drain when the movement of decrease continues for 
+a long time, so that the decrease represents a tendency of movement and depresses the metal reserve of 
+the bank considerably below its average level, down to approximately its average minimum. This 
+minimum is more or less arbitrarily fixed, in so far as it is differently determined in every individual case 
+by legislation concerning backing for the cashing of notes, etc. Concerning the quantitative limits which 
+such a drain can reach in England, Newmarch testified before the Committee on B. A. 1857, Evidence 
+No. 1494: "Judging from experience, it is very unlikely that the efflux of treasure arising from any 
+oscillation in the foreign trade will proceed beyond £3,000,000 or £4,000,000." -- In 1847, the lowest 
+gold reserve level of the Bank of England, occurring on October 23, showed a decrease of £5,198,156 as 
+compared with that of December 26, 1846, and a decrease of £6,453,748 as compared with the highest 
+level of 1846 (August 29). 
+
+Fifthly, the determination of the metal reserve of the so-called national banks, a determination, however, 
+which does not by itself regulate the magnitude of this metal hoard, for it can grow solely by the 
+paralysis of domestic and foreign trade, is threefold: 1) reserve fund for international payments, in other 
+words, reserve fund of world-money; 2) reserve fund for alternately expanding and contracting domestic 
+metal circulation; 3) reserve fund for the payment of deposits and for the convertibility of notes (this is 
+connected with the function of the bank and has nothing to do with the functions of money as such). The 
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+
+reserve fund can, therefore, also be influenced by conditions which affect every one of these three 
+functions. Thus, as an international fund it can be influenced by the balance of payments, no matter by 
+what factors the latter may be determined and whatever its relation to the balance of trade may be. As a 
+reserve fund for domestic metal circulation it can be influenced by the latter's expansion or contraction. 
+The third function — that of a security fund — does not, admittedly, determine the independent movement 
+of the metal reserve, but has a two-fold effect. If notes are issued which replace metallic money (also 
+including silver coins in countries where silver is a measure of value) in domestic circulation, the 
+function of the reserve fund under 2) drops away. And a portion of the precious metal, which served to 
+perform this function, will for a long time find its way abroad. In this case metallic coins are not 
+withdrawn for domestic circulation, and thus the temporary augmentation of the metal reserve by 
+immobilising a part of the circulating coined metal simultaneously falls away. Furthermore, if a 
+minimum metal reserve must be maintained under all circumstances for the payment of deposits and for 
+the convertibility of notes, this affects in its own way the results of a drain or return flow of gold; it 
+affects that part of the reserve which the bank is obliged to maintain under all circumstances, or that part 
+which it seeks to get rid of as useless at certain times. If the circulation were purely metallic and the 
+banking system concentrated, the bank would likewise have to consider its metal reserve as security for 
+the payment of its deposits, and a drain of metal could cause a panic such as was witnessed in Hamburg 
+in 1857. 
+
+Sixthly, with the exception of perhaps 1837, the real crisis always broke out only after a change in the 
+rates of exchange, that is, as soon as the import of precious metal had again gained preponderance over 
+its export. 
+
+In 1825, the real crash came after the drain on gold had ceased. In 1839, there was a drain on gold, but it 
+did not bring about a crash. In 1847, the drain on gold ceased in April and the crash came in October. In 
+1857, the drain on gold to foreign countries had ceased in early November, and the crash did not come 
+until later that same month. 
+
+This is particularly evident in the crisis of 1847, when the drain on gold ceased in April after causing a 
+slight preliminary crisis, and the real business crisis did not come until October. 
+
+The following testimony was presented at the Secret Committee of the House of Lords on Commercial 
+Distress, 1848. This evidence was not printed until 1857 (also cited as C. D. 1848/57). 
+
+Evidence of Tooke: In April 1847, a stringency arose, which, strictly speaking, equalled a panic, but was 
+of relatively short duration and not accompanied by any commercial failures of importance. In October 
+the stringency was far more intensive than at any time during April, an almost unheard-of number of 
+commercial failures taking place (2996). — In April the rates of exchange, particularly with America, 
+compelled us to export a considerable amount of gold in payment for unusually large imports; only by an 
+extreme effort did the Bank stop the drain and drive the rates higher (2997). — In October the rates of 
+exchange favoured England (2998). — The change in the rates of exchange had begun in the third week 
+of April (3000). — They fluctuated in July and August; since the beginning of August they always 
+favoured England (3001). — The drain on gold in August arose from a demand for internal circulation 
+[3003]. 
+
+J. Morris, Governor of the Bank of England: Although the rate of exchange favoured England since 
+August 1847, and an import of gold had taken place in consequence, the bullion reserve of the Bank 
+decreased. "£2,200,000 went out into the country in consequence of the internal demand" (137). — This is 
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+
+explained on the one hand by an increased employment of labourers in railway construction, and on the 
+other by the "circumstance of the bankers wishing to provide themselves with gold in times of distress" 
+(147). 
+
+Palmer, ex-governor and a Director of the Bank of England since 1811: "684. During the whole period 
+from the middle of April 1847 to the day of withdrawing the restrictive clause in the Act of 1844 the 
+foreign exchanges were in favour of this country." 
+
+The drain of bullion, which created an independent money panic in April 1847 was here therefore, as 
+always, but a precursor of the crisis, and a turn had already taken place before it broke out. In 1839, a 
+heavy drain of bullion took place for grain, etc., while business was strongly depressed, but there was no 
+crisis or money panic. 
+
+Seventhly, as soon as general crises have spent themselves, gold and silver — leaving aside the inflow of 
+new precious metal from the producing countries — distribute themselves once more in the proportions in 
+which they existed in a state of equilibrium as individual hoards of the various countries. Other 
+conditions being equal, the relative magnitude of a hoard in each country will be determined by the role 
+of that country in the world-market. They flow from the country which had more than its normal share to 
+those with less than a normal amount. These movements of outgoing and incoming metal merely restore 
+the original distribution among the various national reserves. This redistribution, however, is brought 
+about by the effects of various circumstances, which will be taken up in our treatment of rates of 
+exchange. As soon as the normal distribution is once more restored-beginning with this moment-a stage 
+of growth sets in and then again a drain. [This last statement applies, of course, only to England, as the 
+centre of the world money-market. — F.E.] 
+
+Eighthly, a drain of metal is generally the symptom of a change in the state of foreign trade, and this 
+change in turn is a premonition that conditions are again approaching a crisis. |T51 
+
+Ninthly, the balance of payments can favour Asia against Europe and America. \ 161 
+
+An import of precious metal takes place mainly during two periods. On the one hand, it takes place in the 
+first phase of a low interest rate, which follows upon a crisis and reflects a restriction of production; and 
+then in the second phase, when the interest rate rises, but before it attains its average level. This is the 
+phase during which returns come quickly, commercial credit is abundant, and therefore the demand for 
+loan capital does not grow in proportion to the expansion of production. In both phases, with loan capital 
+relatively abundant, the superfluous addition of capital existing in the form of gold and silver, i.e., a form 
+in which it can primarily serve only as loan capital, must seriously affect the rate of interest and 
+concomitantly the atmosphere of business in general. 
+
+On the other hand, a drain, a continued and heavy export of precious metal, takes place as soon as returns 
+no longer flow, markets are overstocked, and an illusory prosperity is maintained only by means of 
+credit; in other words, as soon as a greatly increased demand for loan capital exists and the interest rate, 
+therefore, has reached at least its average level. Under such circumstances, which are reflected precisely 
+in a drain of precious metal, the effect of continued withdrawal of capital, in a form in which it exists 
+directly as loanable money-capital, is considerably intensified. This must have a direct influence on the 
+interest rate. But instead of restricting credit transactions, the rise in interest rate extends them and leads 
+to an over- straining of all their resources. This period, therefore, precedes the crash. 
+
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+
+Newmarch is asked, B. A. 1857: "1520. But then the volume of bills in circulation increases with the rate 
+of discount? — It seems to do so." — "1522. In quiet ordinary times the ledger is the real instrument of 
+exchange; but when any difficulty arises; when, for example, under such circumstances as I have 
+suggested, there is a rise in the bank-rate of discount... then the transactions naturally resolve themselves 
+into drawing bills of exchange, those bills of exchange being not only more convenient as regards legal 
+proof of the transaction which has taken place, but also being more convenient in order to effect 
+purchases elsewhere, and being pre-eminently convenient as a means of credit by which capital can be 
+raised." — Furthermore, as soon as somewhat threatening conditions induce the bank to raise its discount 
+rate — whereby the probability exists at the same time that the bank will cut down the running time of the 
+bills to be discounted by it-the general apprehension spreads that this will rise in crescendo. Everyone, 
+and above all the credit swindler, will therefore strive to discount the future and have as many means of 
+credit as possible at his command at the given time. These reasons, then, amount to this: it is not that the 
+mere quantity of imported or exported precious metal as such which makes its influence felt, but that it 
+exerts its effect, firstly, by virtue of the specific character of precious metal as capital in money-form, 
+and secondly, by acting like a feather which, when added to the weight on the scales, suffices to tip the 
+oscillating balance definitely to one side; it acts because it arises under conditions when any addition 
+decides in favour of one or the other side. Without these grounds, it would be quite inexplicable why a 
+drain of gold amounting to, say, £5,000,000 to £8,000,000 — and this is the limit of experience to date — 
+should have any appreciable effect. This small decrease or increase of capital, which seems insignificant 
+even compared to the £70 million in gold which circulate on an average in England, is really a negligibly 
+small magnitude when compared to production of such volume as that of the English. \ 171 But it is 
+precisely the development of the credit and banking system, which tends, on the one hand, to press all 
+money-capital into the service of production (or what amounts to the same thing, to transform all money 
+income into capital), and which, on the other hand, reduces the metal reserve to a minimum in a certain 
+phase of the cycle, so that it can no longer perform the functions for which it is intended — it is the 
+developed credit and banking system which creates this over-sensitiveness of the whole organism. At 
+less developed stages of production, the decrease or increase of the hoard below or above its average 
+level is a relatively insignificant matter. Similarly, on the other hand, even a very considerable drain of 
+gold is relatively ineffective if it does not occur in the critical period of the industrial cycle. 
+
+In the given explanation we have not considered cases in which a drain of gold takes place as a result of 
+crop failures, etc. In such cases the large and sudden disturbance of the equilibrium of production, which 
+is expressed by this drain, requires no further explanation as to its effect. This effect is that much greater 
+the more such a disturbance occurs in a period when production is in full swing. 
+
+We have also omitted from consideration the function of the metal reserve as a security for bank-note 
+convertibility and as the pivot of the entire credit system. The central bank is the pivot of the credit 
+system. And the metal reserve, in turn, is the pivot of the bank. \ 181 The change- over from the credit 
+system to the monetary system is necessary, as I have already shown in Vol. I (Ch. Ill) in discussing 
+means of payment. That the greatest sacrifices of real wealth are necessary to maintain the metallic basis 
+in a critical moment has been admitted by both Tooke and Loyd-Overstone. The controversy revolves 
+merely round a plus or a minus, and round the more or less rational treatment of the inevitable. \ 191 A 
+certain quantity of metal, insignificant compared with the total production, is admitted to be the pivotal 
+point of the system. Hence the superb theoretical dualism, aside from the appalling manifestation of this 
+characteristic that it possesses as the pivotal point during crises. So long as enlightened economy treats 
+"of capital" exprofesso, it looks down upon gold and silver with the greatest disdain, considering them as 
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+
+the most indifferent and useless form of capital. But as soon as it treats of the banking system, everything 
+is reversed, and gold and silver become capital par excellence, for whose preservation every other form 
+of capital and labour is to be sacrificed. But how are gold and silver distinguished from other forms of 
+wealth? Not by the magnitude of their value, for this is determined by the quantity of labour incorporated 
+in them; but by the fact that they represent independent incarnations, expressions of the social character 
+of wealth. [The wealth of society exists only as the wealth of private individuals, who are its private 
+owners. It preserves its social character only in that these individuals mutually exchange qualitatively 
+different use- values for the satisfaction of their wants. Under capitalist production they can do so only by 
+means of money. Thus the wealth of the individual is realised as social wealth only through the medium 
+of money. It is in money, in this thing, that the social nature of this wealth is incarnated. — F.E.] This 
+social existence of wealth therefore assumes the aspect of a world beyond, of a thing, matter, commodity, 
+alongside of and external to the real elements of social wealth. So long as production is in a state of flux 
+this is forgotten. Credit, likewise a social form of wealth, crowds out money and usurps its place. It is 
+faith in the social character of production which allows the money-form of products to assume the aspect 
+of something that is only evanescent and ideal, something merely imaginative. But as soon as credit is 
+shaken -- and this phase of necessity always appears in the modern industrial cycle — all the real wealth 
+is to be actually and suddenly transformed into money, into gold and silver — a mad demand, which, 
+however, grows necessarily out of the system itself. And all the gold and silver which is supposed to 
+satisfy these enormous demands amounts to but a few millions in the vaults of the Bank. [201 
+
+Among the effects of the gold drain, then, the fact that production as social production is not really 
+subject to social control, is strikingly emphasised by the existence of the social form of wealth as a thing 
+external to it. The capitalist system of production, in fact, has this feature in common with former 
+systems of production, in so far as they are based on trade in commodities and private exchange. But 
+only in the capitalist system of production does this become apparent in the most striking and grotesque 
+form of absurd contradiction and paradox, because, in the first place, production for direct use-value, for 
+consumption by the producers themselves, is most completely eliminated under the capitalist system, so 
+that wealth exists only as a social process expressed as the intertwining of production and circulation; 
+and secondly, with the development of the credit system, capitalist production continually strives to 
+overcome the metal barrier, which is simultaneously a material and imaginative barrier of wealth and its 
+movement, but again and again it breaks its back on this barrier. 
+
+In the crisis, the demand is made that all bills of exchange, securities and commodities shall be 
+simultaneously convertible into bank money, and all this bank money, in turn, into gold. 
+
+II. THE RATE OF EXCHANGE 
+
+[The rate of exchange is known to be the barometer for the international movement of money metals. If 
+England has more payments to make to Germany than Germany to England, the price of marks, 
+expressed in sterling, rises in London, and the price of sterling, expressed in marks, falls in Hamburg and 
+Berlin. If this preponderance of England's payment obligations towards Germany is not balanced again, 
+for instance, by a preponderance of purchases by Germany in England, the sterling price of bills of 
+exchange in marks on Germany must rise to the point where it will pay to send metal (gold coin or 
+bullion) from England to Germany in payment of obligations, instead of sending bills of exchange. This 
+is the typical course of events. 
+
+If this export of precious metal assumes a larger scope and lasts for a longer period, then the English 
+
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+
+bank reserve is affected, and the English money-market, particularly the Bank of England, must take 
+protective measures. These consist mainly, as we have already seen, in raising the interest rate. When the 
+drain on gold is considerable, the money-market as a rule becomes tight, that is, the demand for loan 
+capital in the form of money significantly exceeds the supply and the higher interest rate follows quite 
+naturally from this; the discount rate fixed by the Bank of England corresponds to this situation and 
+asserts itself on the market. However there are cases when the drain on bullion is due to other than 
+ordinary combinations of business transactions (for instance, loans to foreign states, investment of capital 
+in foreign countries, etc.), and the London money-market as such does not justify an effective rise in the 
+interest rate; the Bank of England must then first "make money scarce," as the phrase goes, through 
+heavy loans in the "open market" and thus artificially create a situation which justifies, or renders 
+necessary, a rise in the interest rate; such a manoeuvre becomes more difficult from year to year. — F.E.] 
+
+How this raising of the interest rate affects the rates of exchange is shown by the following testimony 
+before the Committee of the Lower House concerning bank legislation in 1857 (quoted as B. A. or B. C. 
+
+1857). 
+
+John Stuart Mill: "2176. When there is a state of commercial difficulty there is always... a considerable 
+fall in the price of securities... foreigners send over to buy railway shares in this country, or English 
+holders of foreign railway shares sell their foreign railway shares abroad... there is so much transfer of 
+bullion prevented." — "2182. A large and rich class of bankers and dealers in securities, through whom 
+the equalisation of the rate of interest and the equalisation of commercial pressure between different 
+countries usually takes place... are always on the look out to buy securities which are likely to rise... The 
+place for them to buy securities will be the 'country which is sending bullion away." — "2184. These 
+investments of capital took place to a very considerable extent in 1847, to a sufficient extent to have 
+relieved the drain considerably." 
+
+J. G. Hubbard, ex-Governor, and a Director of the Bank of England since 1838: "2545. There are great 
+quantities of European securities... which have a European currency in all the different money-markets, 
+and those bonds, as soon as their value is reduced by 1 or 2 per cent in one market, are immediately 
+purchased for transmission to those markets where their value is still unimpaired." — "2565. Are not 
+foreign countries considerably in debt to the merchants of this country? — Very largely." — "2566. 
+Therefore, the cashment of those debts might be sufficient to account for a very large accumulation of 
+capital in this country? — In 1847, the ultimate restoration of our position was effected by our striking off 
+so many millions previously due by America, and so many millions due by Russia to this country." [At 
+the same time, England owed these same countries "so and so many millions" for grain and also did not 
+fail to "draw a line" through the greater portion of these millions via the bankruptcy of the English 
+debtors. See the report on Bank Acts, 1857, Chapter XXX above. - F.E.] - "2572. In 1847, the 
+exchange between this country and St. Petersburg was very high. When the Government Letter came out 
+authorising the Bank to issue irrespectively of the limitation of £14,000,000 [above and beyond the gold 
+reserve — F.E.], the stipulation was that the rate of discount should be 8%. At that moment, with the then 
+rate of discount, it was a profitable operation to order gold to be shipped from St. Petersburg to London 
+and on its arrival to lend it at 8% up to the maturity of the three months' bills drawn against the purchase 
+of gold." — "2573. In all bullion operations there are many points to be taken into consideration; there is 
+the rate of exchange and the rate of interest, which is available for the investment during the period of the 
+maturity of the bill [drawn against it — F.E.]." 
+
+RATE OF EXCHANGE WITH ASIA 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 35 
+
+The following points are important because, on the one hand, they show how England recoups its losses 
+when its rate of exchange with Asia is unfavourable, at the expense of other countries, whose imports 
+from Asia are paid through English middlemen. On the other hand, they are important because Mr. 
+Wilson once again makes the foolish attempt here to identify the effects of the export of precious metal 
+on the rates of exchange with the effect of the export of capital in general upon these rates; the export 
+being in both cases not as a means of paying or buying, but for capital investment. In the first place, it 
+goes without saying that whether so many millions of pounds sterling are sent to India in precious metal 
+or iron rails, to be invested in railways there, these are merely two different forms of transferring the 
+same amount of capital to another country; namely, a transfer which does not enter the calculation of 
+ordinary mercantile business, and for which the exporting country expects no other return than the future 
+annual revenue from the income of these railways. If this export is made in the form of precious metal, it 
+will exert a direct influence upon the money-market and with it upon the interest rate of the country 
+exporting this precious metal; if not necessarily under all circumstances, then under the previously 
+outlined conditions, since it is precious metal and as such is directly loanable money-capital and the basis 
+of the entire money system. Similarly, this export also directly affects the rate of exchange. Precious 
+metal is exported only for the reason, and to the extent, that bills of exchange, say on India, which are 
+offered in the London money-market, do not suffice to make these extra remittances. In other words, 
+there is a demand for Indian bills of exchange which exceeds their supply, and so the rates turn for a time 
+against England, not because it is in debt to India, but because it has to send extraordinary sums to India. 
+In the long run, such a shipment of precious metal to India must have the effect of increasing the Indian 
+demand for English commodities, because it indirectly increases the consuming power of India for 
+European goods. But. if the capital is shipped in the form of rails, etc., it cannot have any influence on 
+the rates of exchange, since India has no return payment to make for it. Precisely for this reason, it need 
+not have any influence on the money-market. Wilson seeks to establish the existence of such an influence 
+by declaring that such an extra expenditure would bring about an additional demand for money 
+accommodation and would thus influence the interest rate. This may be the case; but to maintain that it 
+must take place under all circumstances is totally wrong. No matter where the rails are shipped and 
+whether laid on English or Indian soil, they represent nothing but a definite expansion of English 
+production in a particular sphere. To contend that an expansion of production, even within very broad 
+limits, cannot take place without driving up the interest rate, is absurd. Money accommodation, i.e., the 
+amount of business transacted which includes credit operations, may grow; but these credit operations 
+can increase while the interest rate remains unchanged. This was actually the case during the railway 
+mania in England in the forties. The interest rate did not rise. And it is evident that, so far as actual 
+capital is concerned, in this case commodities, the effect on the money-market will he just the same, 
+whether these commodities are destined for foreign countries or for domestic consumption. It could only 
+make a difference when capital investments by England in foreign countries exerted a restraining 
+influence upon its commercial exports, i.e., exports for which payment must he made, thus giving rise to 
+a return flow, or to the extent that these capital investments are already general symptoms indicating the 
+over-expansion of credit and the initiation of swindling operations. 
+
+In the following, Wilson puts the questions and Newmarch replies. 
+
+" 1786. On a former day you stated, with reference to the demand for silver for the East, that you believed 
+that the exchanges with In ha were in favour of this country, notwithstanding the large amount of bullion 
+that is continually transmitted to the East; have you any ground for supposing the exchanges to be in 
+favour of this country? — Yes, I have... I find that the real value of the exports from the United Kingdom 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 35 
+
+to India in 1851 was £7,420,000; to that is to be added the amount of India House drafts, that is, the 
+funds drawn from India by the East India Company for the purpose of their own expenditure. Those 
+drafts in that year amounted to £3,200,000, making, therefore, the total export from the United Kingdom 
+to India £10,620,000. In 1855... the actual value of the export of goods from the United Kingdom had 
+risen to £10,350,000 and the India House drafts were £3,700,000, making, therefore, the total export 
+from this country £14,050,000. Now as regards 1851, 1 believe there are no means of stating what was 
+the real value of the import of goods from India to this country, but in 1854 and 1855 we have a 
+statement of the real value; in 1855, the total real value of the imports of goods from India to this country 
+was £12,670,000 and that sum, compared with the £14,050,000 I have mentioned, left a balance in favour 
+of the United Kingdom, as regards the direct trade between the two countries, of £1,380,000" [B. A. 
+1857]. 
+
+Thereupon Wilson remarks that the rates of exchange are also affected by indirect commerce. For 
+instance, exports from India to Australia and North America are covered by drafts on London, and 
+therefore affect the rate of exchange just as though the commodities had gone directly from India to 
+England. Furthermore, when India and China are considered together, the balance is against England, 
+since China has constantly to make heavy payments to India for opium, and England has to make 
+payments to China, so that the sums go by this circuitous route to India (1787, 1788). 
+
+1791. Wilson now asks if the effect on the rates of exchange will not be the same whether capital "went 
+in the form of iron rails and locomotives, or whether it went in the form of coin." Newmarch correctly 
+answers: The £12 million which have been sent during the last few years to India for railway 
+construction served to purchase an annuity which India has to pay at regular intervals to England. "But as 
+far as regards the immediate operation on the bullion market, the investments of the £12 million would 
+only be operative as far as bullion was required to be sent out for actual money disbursements." 
+
+1797. [Weguelin asks:) "If no return is made for this iron (rails), how can it be said to affect the 
+exchanges? — I do not think that that part of the expenditure which is sent out in the form of commodities 
+affects the computation of the exchange... The computation of the exchange between two countries is 
+affected, one might say, solely by the quantity of obligations or bills offering in one country, as 
+compared with the quantity offering in the other country against it; that is the rationale of the exchange. 
+Now, as regards the transmission of those £12,000,000, the money in the first place is subscribed in this 
+country... now, if the nature of the transaction was such that the whole of that £12,000,000 was required 
+to be laid down in Calcutta, Bombay, and Madras in treasure... a sudden demand would very violently 
+operate upon the price of silver, and upon the exchange, just the same as if the India Company were to 
+give notice tomorrow that their drafts were to be raised from £3,000,000 to £12,000,000. But half of 
+those £12,000,000 is spent... in buying commodities in this country... iron rails and timber, and other 
+materials it is an expenditure in this country of the capital of this country for a particular kind of 
+commodity to be sent out to India, and there is an end of it." — "1798. [Weguelin:] But the production of 
+those articles of iron and timber necessary for the railways produces a large consumption of foreign 
+articles, which might affect the exchange? — Certainly." 
+
+Wilson now thinks that iron represents labour to a large extent, and that the wage paid for this labour 
+largely represents imported goods (1799), and then questions further: 
+
+"1801. But speaking quite generally, it would have the effect of turning the exchanges against this 
+country if you sent abroad the articles which were produced by the consumption of the imported articles 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 35 
+
+without receiving any remittance for them either in the shape of produce or otherwise? — That principle 
+is exactly what took place in this country during the time of the great railway expenditure [1845]. For 
+three or four or five years, you spent upon railways £30,000,000, nearly the whole of which went in the 
+payment of wages. You sustained in three years a larger population employed in constructing railways, 
+and locomotives, and carriages, and stations than you employed in the whole of the factory districts. The 
+people... spent those wages in buying tea and sugar and spirits and other foreign commodities; those 
+commodities were imported; but it was a fact, that during the time this great expenditure was going on 
+the foreign exchanges between this country and other countries were not materially deranged. There was 
+no efflux of bullion, on the contrary, there was rather an influx." 
+
+1802. Wilson insists that with an equalised trade balance and par rates between England and India the 
+extra shipment of iron and locomotives "would affect the exchanges with India." Newmarch cannot see it 
+that way so long as the rails are sent out as capital investment and 'India has no payment to make for 
+them in one form or another; he adds: "I agree with the principle that no one country can have 
+permanently against itself an adverse state of exchange with all the other countries, with which it deals; 
+an adverse exchange with one country necessarily produces a favourable exchange with another." — 
+Wilson retorts with this triviality: "1803. But would not a transfer of capital be the same whether it was 
+sent in one form or another? — As regards the obligation it would." — "1804. The effect therefore of 
+making railways in India, whether you send bullion or whether you send materials, would be the same 
+upon the capital-market here in increasing the value of capital as if the whole was sent out in bullion? 
+
+If iron prices did not rise, it was in any case proof that the "value" of "capital" contained in the rails had 
+not been increased. What we are here concerned with is the value of money-capital, i.e., the interest rate. 
+Wilson would like to identify money-capital with capital in general. The simple fact is essentially that 12 
+million were subscribed in England for Indian railways. This is a matter which has nothing directly to do 
+with the rates of exchange, and the designation of the £12 million is also the same to the money-market. 
+If the money-market is in good shape, it need not produce any effect at all on it, just as the English 
+railway subscriptions in 1844 and 1845 left the money-market unaffected. If the money-market is already 
+in somewhat difficult straits, the interest rate might indeed be affected by it, but certainly only in an 
+upward direction, and this, according to Wilson's theory, would favourably affect the rates of exchange 
+for England, that is, it would work against the tendency to export precious metal; if not to India, then to 
+some other country. Mr. Wilson jumps from one thing to another. In Question 1802 it is the rates of 
+exchange that are supposed to be affected, and in Question 1804 the "value of capital" — which are two 
+very different things. The interest rate may affect the rates of exchange, and the rates of exchange may 
+affect the interest rate, but the latter can be stable while the rates of exchange fluctuate, and the rates of 
+exchange can be stable while the interest rate fluctuates. Wilson cannot get it through his head that the 
+mere form in which capital is shipped abroad makes such a difference in the effect, i.e., that the 
+difference in the form of capital is of such importance, and particularly its money-form, which runs very 
+much counter to enlightened economy. Newmarch replies to Wilson one-sidedly in that he does not 
+indicate that he has jumped so suddenly and without reason from rate of exchange to interest rate. 
+Newmarch answers Question 1804 with uncertainty and equivocation: "No doubt, if there is a demand 
+for £12,000,000 to be raised, it is immaterial, as regards the general rate of interest, whether that £12 
+million is required to be sent in bullion or in materials. I think, however" [a fine transition, this 
+"however", when he intends to say the exact opposite] "it is not quite immaterial" [it is immaterial, but, 
+nevertheless, it is not immaterial] "because in the one case the £6 million would be returned immediately; 
+in the other case it would not be returned so rapidly. Therefore it would make some" [what definiteness!] 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 35 
+
+"difference, whether the £6 million was expended in this country or sent wholly out of it." What does he 
+mean when he says six million would return immediately? In so far as the £6 million have been expended 
+in England, they exist in rails, locomotives, etc., which are shipped to India, whence they do not return; 
+their value returns very slowly through amortisation, whereas the six million in precious metal may 
+perhaps return very quickly in kind. In so far as the six million have been expended in wages, they have 
+been consumed; but the money used for payment circulates in the country the same as ever, or forms a 
+reserve. The same holds true for the profits of rail producers and that portion of the six million which 
+replaces their constant capital. Thus, this ambiguous statement about returns is used by Newmarch only 
+to avoid saying directly: The money has remained in the country, and in so far as it serves as loanable 
+money-capital the difference for the money-market (aside from the possibility that circulation could have 
+absorbed more coin) is only that it is charged to the account of A instead of B. An investment of this 
+kind, where capital is transferred to other countries in commodities, not in precious metal, can affect the 
+rate of exchange (but not the rate of exchange with the country in which the exported capital is invested) 
+only in so far as the production of these exported commodities requires an additional import of other 
+foreign commodities. This production then cannot balance out the additional import. However, the same 
+thing happens with every export on credit, no matter whether intended for capital investment or ordinary 
+commercial purposes. Moreover, this additional import can also call forth by way of reaction an 
+additional demand for English goods, for instance, on the part of the colonies or the United States. 
+
+
+
+Previously (1786), Newmarch stated that, owing to drafts of the East India Company, exports from 
+England to India were larger than imports. Sir Charles Wood cross-examines him on this score. This 
+preponderance of English exports to India over imports from India is actually brought about by imports 
+from India for which England does not pay any equivalent. The drafts of the East India Company (now 
+the East India government) reserve themselves into a tribute levied on India. For instance, in 1855, 
+imports from India to England amounted to £12,670,000; English exports to India amounted to 
+£10,350,000; balance in India's favour £2,250,000. [i.e. approximately 2i/4 million: more precisely, 
+£2,320,000. — Ed.] "If that was the whole state of the case, that £2,250,000 would have to be remitted in 
+some form to India. But then come in the advertisements from the India House. The India House 
+advertise to this effect that they are prepared to grant drafts on the various presidencies in India to the 
+extent of £3,250,000. [This amount was levied for the London expenses of the East India Company and 
+for the dividends to be paid to stockholders.] And that not merely liquidates the £2,250,000 which arose 
+out of the course of trade, but it presents £1,000,000 of surplus" (1917) [B. A. 1857]. 
+
+"1922. [Wood:] Then the effect of those India House drafts is not to increase the exports to India, but pro 
+tanto to diminish them?" [This should read: to reduce the necessity of covering the imports from India by 
+exports to that country to the same amount.] Mr. Newmarch explains this by saying that the British 
+import "good government" into India for these £3,700,000 (1925). Wood, as a former Minister for India, 
+knows full well the kind of "good government" which the British import to India, and correctly replies 
+with irony: "1926. Then the export, which, you state, is caused by the East India drafts, is an export of 
+good government, and not of produce." — Since England exports a good deal "in this way" for "good 
+government" and as capital investment in foreign countries — thus obtaining imports which are 
+completely independent of the ordinary run of business, tribute partly for exported "good government" 
+and partly in the form of revenues from capital invested in the colonies or elsewhere, i.e., tribute for 
+which it does not have to pay any equivalent — it is evident that the rates of exchange are not affected 
+when England simply consumes this tribute without exporting anything in return. Hence, it is also 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 35 
+
+evident that the rates of exchange are not affected when it reinvests this tribute, not in England, but 
+productively or unproductively in foreign countries; for instance, when it sends munitions for it to the 
+Crimea. Moreover, to the extent that imports from abroad enter into the revenue of England — of course, 
+they must be paid for in the form of tribute, for which no equivalent return is necessary, or by exchange 
+for this unpaid tribute or in the ordinary course of commerce — England can either consume them or 
+reinvest them as capital. In neither case are the rates of exchange affected, and this is overlooked by the 
+sage Wilson. Whether a domestic or a foreign product constitutes a part of the revenue — whereby the 
+latter case merely requires an exchange of domestic for foreign products — the consumption of this 
+revenue, be it productive or unproductive, alters nothing in the rates of exchange, even though it may 
+alter the scale of production. The following should be read with the foregoing in mind: 
+
+1934. Wood asks Newmarch how the shipment of war supplies to the Crimea would affect the rate of 
+exchange with Turkey. Newmarch replies: "I do not see that the mere transmission of warlike stores 
+would necessarily affect the exchange, but certainly the transmission of treasure would affect the 
+exchange." In this case he thus distinguishes capital in the form of money from capital in other forms. 
+But now Wilson asks: 
+
+"1935. If you make an export of any article to a great extent, for which there is to be no corresponding 
+import" [Mr. Wilson forgets that there are very considerable imports into England for which 
+corresponding exports have never taken place, except in the form of "good government" or of previously 
+exported investment capital; in any case imports which do not enter into normal commercial movement. 
+But these imports are again exchanged, for instance, for American products, and the circumstance that 
+American goods are exported without corresponding imports does not alter the fact that the value of these 
+imports can be consumed without an equivalent flow abroad; they have been received without reciprocal 
+exports and can therefore be consumed without entering into the balance of trade], "you do not discharge 
+the foreign debt you have created by your imports" [but, if you have previously paid for these imports, 
+for instance, by credit given abroad, then no debt is contracted thereby, and the question has nothing to 
+do with the international balance; it resolves itself into productive and unproductive expenditures, no 
+matter whether the products so consumed are domestic or foreign], "and therefore you must by that 
+transaction affect the exchanges by not discharging the foreign debt, by reason of your export having no 
+corresponding imports? — That is true as regards countries generally." 
+
+This lecture by Wilson amounts to saying that every export with no corresponding import is 
+simultaneously an import with no corresponding export, because foreign, i.e., imported, commodities 
+enter into the production of the exported article. The assumption is that every export of this kind is based 
+on, or creates, an unpaid import and thus presupposes a debt abroad. This is wrong, even when the 
+following two circumstances are disregarded: 1) England receives certain imports free of charge for 
+which it pays no equivalent, e.g., a portion of its Indian imports. It can exchange these for American 
+imports and export the latter without importing in return; in any case, so far as the value is concerned, it 
+has only exported something that has cost it nothing. 2) England may have paid for imports, for instance, 
+American imports, which constitute additional capital; if it consumes these unproductively, for instance, 
+as war materials, this does not constitute any debt towards America and does not affect the rate of 
+exchange with America. Newmarch contradicts himself in Nos. 1934 and 1935, and Wood calls this to 
+his attention in No. 1938: "If no portion of the goods which are employed in the manufacture of the 
+articles exported without return [war materials], came from the country to which those articles are sent, 
+how is the exchange with that country affected; supposing the trade with Turkey to be in an ordinary 
+state of equilibrium, how is the exchange between this country and Turkey affected by the export of 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 35 
+
+warlike stores to the Crimea?" — Here Newmarch loses his equanimity; he forgets that he has answered 
+the same simple question correctly in No. 1934, and says: "We seem, I think, to have exhausted the 
+practical question, and to have now attained a very elevated region of metaphysical discussion." 
+
+
+
+[Wilson has still another version of his claim that the rate of exchange is affected by every transfer of 
+capital from one country to another, no matter whether in the form of precious metal or commodities. 
+Wilson knows, of course, that the rate of exchange is affected by the interest rate, particularly by the 
+relation of the rates of interest prevailing in the two countries whose mutual rates of exchange are under 
+discussion. If he can now demonstrate that surpluses of capital in general, i.e., in the first place, 
+commodities of all kinds including precious metal, have a hand in influencing the interest rate, then he is 
+a step closer to his goal; a transfer of any considerable portion of this capital to some other country must 
+then change the interest rate in both countries, with the change taking place in opposite directions. 
+Thereby, in a secondary way, the rate of exchange between both countries is also altered. — F. E.] 
+
+He then says in the Economist, May 22, 1847, page 574, which he edited at the time: 
+
+"... No doubt, however, such abundance of capital as is indicated by large stocks of commodities of all 
+kinds, including bullion, would necessarily lead, not only to low prices of commodities in general, but 
+also to a lower rate of interest for the use of capital. If we have a stock of commodities on hand, which is 
+sufficient to serve the country for two years to come, a command over those commodities would be 
+obtained for a given period, at a much lower rate than if the stocks were barely sufficient to last us two 
+months. All loans of money, in whatever shape they are made, are simply a transfer of a command over 
+commodities from one to another. Whenever, therefore, commodities are abundant, the interest of money 
+must be low, and when they are scarce, the interest of money must be high. As commodities become 
+abundant, the number of sellers, in proportion to the number of buyers, increases, and, in proportion as 
+the quantity is more than is required for immediate consumption, so must a larger portion be kept for 
+future use. Under these circumstances, the terms on which a holder becomes willing to sell for a future 
+payment, or on credit, become lower than if he were certain that his whole stock would be required 
+within a few weeks". 
+
+In regard to statement, it is to be noted that a large influx in precious metal can take place simultaneously 
+with a contraction in production, as is always the case in the period following a crisis. In the subsequent 
+phase, precious metal may come in from countries which mainly produce precious metal; imports of 
+other commodities are generally balanced by exports during this period. In these two phases, the interest 
+rate is low and rises but slowly; we have already discussed the reason for this. This low interest rate 
+could always be explained without recourse to the influence of any "large stocks of commodities of all 
+kinds." And how is this influence to take place? The low price of cotton, for instance, renders possible 
+the high profits of the spinners, etc. Now why is the interest rate low? Surely not because the profit, 
+which may be made on borrowed capital, is high. But simply and solely because, under existing 
+conditions, the demand for loan capital does not grow in proportion to this profit; in other words, because 
+loan capital has a movement different from industrial capital. What the Economist wants to prove is 
+exactly the reverse, namely, that the movements of loan capital are identical with those of industrial 
+capital. 
+
+In regard to statement, if we reduce the absurd assumption of stocks for two years in advance to the point 
+where it begins to take on some meaning, it signifies that the market is overstocked. This would cause a 
+fall in prices. Less would have to be paid for a bale of cotton. This would by no means justify the 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 35 
+
+conclusion that money for the purchase of this cotton is more easily borrowed. This depends on the state 
+of the money-market. If money can be borrowed more easily, it is only because commercial credit is in a 
+state requiring it to make less use than usual of bank credit. The commodities glutting the market are 
+either means of subsistence or means of production. The low price of both increases the industrial 
+capitalist's profit. Why should it depress the interest rate, unless it be through the antithesis, rather than 
+the identity, between the abundance of industrial capital and the demand for money accommodation? 
+Circumstances are such that the merchant and industrial capitalist can more easily advance credit to one 
+another; owing to this facilitation of commercial credit, both industrialist as well as merchant need less 
+bank credit; hence the interest rate can be low. This low interest rate has nothing to do with the influx in 
+precious metal, although both may run parallel to each other, and the same causes bringing about low 
+prices of imported articles may also produce a surplus of imported precious metal. If the import market 
+were really glutted, it would prove that a decrease in the demand for imported articles had taken place, 
+and this would be inexplicable at low prices, unless it were attributed to a contraction of domestic 
+industrial production; but this, again, would be inexplicable, so long as there is excessive importing at 
+low prices. A mass of absurdities-in order to prove that a fall in prices = a fall in the interest rate. Both 
+may simultaneously exist side by side. But if they do, it will be a reflection of the opposition in the 
+directions of the movement of industrial capital and the movement of loanable money-capital. It will not 
+be a reflection of their identity. 
+
+In regard to statement, it is hard to understand even after this exposition why money interest should be 
+low when commodities are available in abundance. If commodities are cheap, then I may need only 
+£1,000 instead of the previous £2,000 to buy a definite quantity. But perhaps I nevertheless invest 
+£2,000, and thus buy twice the quantity which I could have bought formerly. In this way, I expand my 
+business by advancing the same capital, which I may have to borrow. I buy £2,000 worth of 
+commodities, the same as before. My demand on the money-market therefore remains the same, even 
+though my demand on the commodity-market rises with the fall in commodity-prices. But if this demand 
+for commodities should decrease, that is, if production should not expand with the fall in 
+commodity-prices, an event which would contradict all the laws of the Economist, then the demand for 
+loanable money-capital would decrease, although the profit would increase. But this increasing profit 
+would create a demand for loan capital. Incidentally, a low level of commodity-prices may be due to 
+three causes. First, to lack of demand. In such a case, the interest rate is low because production is 
+paralysed and not because commodities are cheap, for the low prices are but a rejection of that paralysis. 
+Second, it may be due to supply exceeding demand. This may be the result of a glut on the market, etc., 
+which may lead to a crisis and coincide with a high interest rate during the crisis itself; or, it may be the 
+result of a fall in the value of commodities, so that the same demand can be satisfied at lower prices. 
+Why should the interest rate fall in the last case? Because profits increase? If this were due to less 
+money-capital being required for obtaining the same productive or commodity-capital, it would merely 
+prove that profit and interest are inversely proportional to each other. In any case, the general statement 
+of the Economist is false. Low money-prices for commodities and a low interest rate do not necessarily 
+go together. Otherwise, the interest rate would be lowest in the poorest countries, where money-prices for 
+produce are lowest, and highest in the richest countries, where money-prices for agricultural products are 
+highest. In general, the Economist admits: If the value of money falls, it exerts no influence on the 
+interest rate. £100 bring £105 the same as ever. If the £100 are worth less, so are the £5 interest. This 
+relation is not affected by the appreciation or depreciation of the original sum. Considered from the point 
+of view of value, a definite quantity of commodities is equal to a definite sum of money. If this value 
+increases, it is equal to a larger sum of money. The opposite is true when it falls. If the value is equal to 
+
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+
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+
+2,000, then 5% = 100; if it is equal to 1,000, then 5% = 50. But this does not alter the interest rate in any 
+way. The rational part of this matter is merely that greater money accommodation is required when it 
+takes £2,000 to sell the same quantity of commodities than when only £1,000 are required. But this 
+merely shows that profit and interest are here inversely proportional to each other. For the lower the 
+prices of the components of constant and variable capital, the higher the profit and the lower the interest. 
+But the opposite can also be and is often the case. For instance, cotton may be cheap because no demand 
+exists for yarn and fabrics; and cotton may be relatively expensive because a large profit in the cotton 
+industry creates a great demand for it. On the other hand, the profits of industrialists may be high 
+precisely because the price of cotton is low. Hubbard's table proves that the interest rate and the prices of 
+commodities execute completely independent movements, whereas the movements of the interest rate 
+adhere closely to those of the metal reserve and the rates of exchange. 
+
+The Economist states: "Whenever, therefore, commodities are abundant, the interest of money must be 
+low." Precisely the opposite obtains during crises. Commodities are superabundant, inconvertible into 
+money, and therefore the interest rate is high; in another phase of the cycle the demand for commodities 
+is great and therefore quick returns are made, but at the same time, prices are rising and because of the 
+quick returns the interest rate is low. "When they [the commodities] are scarce, the interest of money 
+must be high." The opposite is again true in the slack period following a crisis. Commodities are scarce, 
+absolutely speaking, not with reference to demand; and the interest rate is low. 
+
+In regard to statement, it is pretty evident that an owner of commodities, provided he can sell the latter at 
+all, will get rid of them at a lower price when the market is glutted than he would when there is a 
+prospect of the existing supply becoming rapidly exhausted. But why the interest rate should fall because 
+of that is not so clear. 
+
+If the market is glutted with imported commodities, the interest rate may rise as a result of an increased 
+demand on the part of the owners for loan capital, in order to avoid dumping their commodities on the 
+market. The interest rate may fall, because the fluidity of commercial credit may keep the demand for 
+bank credit relatively low. 
+
+
+
+The Economist mentions the rapid effect on rates of exchange in 1847 of the raising of the interest rate 
+and other circumstances exerting pressure on the money-market. But it should be borne in mind that the 
+gold drain continued until the end of April in spite of the change in the rates of exchange; a turn did not 
+take place here until early May. 
+
+On January 1, 1847, the metal reserve of the Bank was £15,066,691; the interest rate 3 1/2% ; three months' 
+rates of exchange on Paris 25.75; on Hamburg 13.10; on Amsterdam 12.3i/4. On March 5, the metal 
+reserve had fallen to £1 1,595,535; the discount had risen to 4%; the rate of exchange fell to 25.67i/2 on 
+Paris; 13.9i/4 on Hamburg; and 12.2i/2 on Amsterdam. The drain of gold continued. See the following 
+table: 
+
+1847 l U "™7\° f A Money-Market TWMonth 
+
+the Bank of England J R 
+
+Paris Hamburg Amsterdam 
+
+March 20 11,231,630 Bank disc. 4% 25.67i/2 13.93/4 12.2i/2 
+
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+
+
+
+.10 
+
+
+12.3i/2 
+
+
+.10l/2 
+
+
+12.4i/2 
+
+
+.403/4 
+
+
+12.5i/2 
+
+
+.12 
+
+
+12.6 
+
+
+.123/4 
+
+
+12.6i/2 
+
+
+. 1 5 1/2 
+
+
+12.73/4 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 35 
+
+April 3 10,246,410 „ „ 5% 25.80 
+
+April 10 9,867.053 Money very scarce 25.90 
+
+April 17 9,329,841 Bank disc. 5.5% 26.02i/2 
+
+April 24 9,243,890 Pressure 26.05 
+
+May 4 9,337,746 Increasing pressure 26.45 
+
+May 8 9,588,759 Highest pressure 26.27 1/2 
+
+In 1847, the total export of precious metal from England amounted to £8,602,597. 
+
+Of this to the 
+
+United States £3,226,411 
+France £2,479,892 
+
+Hanse towns £958,781 
+Holland £247,743 
+
+In spite of the change in the rates at the end of March, the drain of gold continued for another full month, 
+probably to the United States. 
+
+"We thus see" [says the Economist, August 2, 1847, p. 954] "how rapid and striking was the effect of a 
+rise in the rate of interest, and the pressure which ensued in correcting an adverse exchange, and in 
+turning the tide of bullion back to this country. This effect was produced entirely independent of the 
+balance of trade. A higher rate of interest caused a lower price of securities, both foreign and English, 
+and induced large purchases to be made on foreign account, which increased the amount of bills to be 
+drawn from this country, while, on the other hand, the high rate of interest and the difficulty of obtaining 
+money was such that the demand of those bills fell off, while their amount increased... For the same 
+cause orders for imports were countermanded, and investments of English funds abroad were realised 
+and brought home for employment here. Thus, for example, we read in the Rio de Janeiro Price Current 
+of the 10th May, 'Exchange [on England] has experienced a further decline, principally caused by a 
+pressure on the market for remittance of the proceeds of large sales of [Brazilian] government stock, on 
+English account.' Capital belonging to this country, which has been invested in public and other 
+securities abroad, when the interest was very low here, was thus again brought back when the interest 
+became high." 
+
+ENGLAND'S BALANCE OF TRADE 
+
+India alone has to pay 5 million in tribute for "good government," interest and dividends on British 
+capital, etc., not counting the sums sent home annually by officials as savings from their salaries, or by 
+English merchants as part of their profit to be invested in England. Every British colony continually has 
+to make large remittances for the same reason. Most of the banks in Australia, the West Indies, and 
+Canada, have been founded with English capital, and the dividends are payable in England. In the same 
+way, England owns many foreign securities — European, North American and South American — on 
+which it draws interest. In addition to this it has interests in foreign railways, canals, mines, etc., with 
+corresponding dividends. Remittance on all these items is made almost exclusively in products over and 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 35 
+
+above the amount of English exports. On the other hand what is sent from England to owners of English 
+securities abroad and for consumption by Englishmen abroad, is insignificant in comparison. 
+
+The question, so far as it concerns the balance of trade and the rates of exchange, is "at any particular 
+moment one of time." "Practically speaking... England gives long credits upon her exports, while the 
+imports are paid for in ready money. At particular moments this difference of practice has a considerable 
+effect upon the exchanges. At a time when our exports are very considerably increasing, e.g., 1850, a 
+continual increase of investment of British capital must be going on... in this way remittances of 1850 
+may be made against goods exported in 1849. But if the exports of 1850 exceed those of 1849 by more 
+than 6 million, the practical effect must he that more money is sent abroad, to this amount, than returned 
+in the same year. And in this way an effect is produced on the rates of exchange and the rate of interest. 
+When, on the contrary, our trade is depressed after a commercial crisis, and when our exports are much 
+reduced, the remittances due for the past years of larger exports greatly exceed the value of our imports; 
+the exchanges become correspondingly in our favour, capital rapidly accumulates at home, and the rate 
+of interest becomes less." (Economist, January 11, 1851 [p. 30].) 
+
+The foreign rates of exchange can change: 
+
+1) In consequence of the immediate balance of payments, no matter what the cause — a purely mercantile 
+one, or capital investment abroad, or government expenditures for wars, etc., in so far as cash payments 
+thereby are made to foreign countries. 
+
+2) In consequence of money depreciation — whether metal or paper — in a particular country. This is 
+purely nominal. If £1 should represent only half as much money as formerly, it would naturally be 
+counted as 12.5 francs instead of 25 francs. 
+
+3) When it is a matter of a rate of exchange between countries, of which one uses silver and the other 
+gold as "money," the rate of exchange depends upon the relative fluctuations of the value of these two 
+metals, since these necessarily alter the parity between them. This is illustrated by the rates of exchange 
+in 1850; they were unfavourable to England, although that country's export rose enormously. Yet no 
+drain of gold took place. This was a result of a momentary rise in the value of silver as against gold. (See 
+Economist, November 30, 1850 [pp. 1319-1320].) 
+
+Parity for the rate of exchange of £1 is: Paris, 25 francs 20 cent.; Hamburg, 13 marks banko 10.5 
+shillings; Amsterdam, 1 1 florins 97 cent. To the extent that the Paris rate of exchange exceeds 25.20 
+francs, it becomes more favourable to the English debtor of France, or the buyer of French commodities. 
+In both cases he needs fewer pounds sterling in order to accomplish his purpose. — In remoter countries, 
+where precious metal is not easily obtained when bills of exchange are scarce and insufficient for 
+remittances to be made to England, the natural effect is to drive up the prices of such products as are 
+generally shipped to England since a greater demand arises for them, in order to send them to England in 
+place of bills of exchange; this is often the case in India. 
+
+An unfavourable rate of exchange, or even a drain on gold, can take place when there is a great 
+abundance of money in England, the interest rate is low and the price for securities is high. 
+
+In the course of 1848 England received large quantities of silver from India, since good bills of exchange 
+were rare and mediocre ones were not readily accepted in consequence of the crisis of 1847 and the 
+general lack of credit in business with India. All this silver had barely arrived before it found its way to 
+the continent, where the revolution led to the formation of many hoards. The bulk of the same silver 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 35 
+
+made the trip back to India in 1850, since the rate of exchange now made this profitable. 
+
+
+
+The monetary system is essentially a Catholic institution, the credit system essentially Protestant. "The 
+Scotch hate gold." In the form of paper the monetary existence of commodities is only a social one. It is 
+Faith that brings salvation. Faith in money-value as the immanent spirit of commodities, faith in the 
+mode of production and its predestined order, faith in the individual agents of production as mere 
+personifications of self-expanding capital. But the credit system does not emancipate itself from the basis 
+of the monetary system any more than Protestantism has emancipated itself from the foundations of 
+Catholicism. 
+
+Footnotes 
+
+f 141 The effect this had on the money-market is indicated by the following testimony of Newmarch: 
+"1509. At the close of 1853, there was a considerable apprehension in the public mind, and in September 
+of that year the Bank of England raised its discount on three occasions... In the early part of October 
+there was a considerable degree of apprehension and alarm in the public mind. That apprehension and 
+alarm was relieved to a very great extent before the end of November, and was almost wholly removed, 
+in consequence of the arrival of nearly £5,000,000 of treasure from Australia... The same thing happened 
+in the autumn of 1854, by the arrival in the months of October and November of nearly £6,000,000 of 
+treasure. The same thing happened again in the autumn of 1855, which we know was a period of 
+excitement and alarm, by the arrivals, in the three months of September, October and November, of 
+nearly £8,000,000 of treasure; and then at the close of last year, 1856, we find exactly the same 
+occurrence. In truth, I might appeal to the observation almost of any member of the Committee, whether 
+the natural and complete solvent to which we have got into the habit of looking for any financial 
+pressure, is not the arrival of a gold ship" [B. A. 1857]. 
+
+f 151 According to Newmarch, a drain of gold to foreign countries can arise from three causes: 4) from 
+purely commercial conditions, that is, if imports have exceeded exports, as was the case in 1836 to 1844, 
+and again in 1847 — principally a heavy import of grain; 2) in order to secure the means for investing 
+English capital in foreign countries, as in 1857 for railways in India, and 3) for definite expenditures 
+abroad, as in 1853 and 1854 for war purposes in the Orient. 
+
+fl61 1918. Newmarch. "When you combine India and China, when you bring into account the 
+transactions between India and Australia, and the still more important transactions between China and 
+the United States, the trade being a triangular one, and the adjustment taking place through us... then it is 
+true that the balance of trade was not merely against this country, but against France, and against the 
+United States." - (B. A. 1857.) 
+
+f 171 See, for instance, the ridiculous reply of Weguelin [B.A. 1857] where he states that a drain of five 
+million in gold is so much capital less, and thus attempts to explain certain phenomena which do not take 
+place when there is an infinitely greater increase in prices or depreciation, expansion or contraction of 
+real industrial capital. On the other hand, it is just as ridiculous to attempt to explain these phenomena 
+directly as symptoms of an expansion or contraction of the mass of real capital (considered from the 
+viewpoint of its material elements). 
+
+
+
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+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 35 
+
+f 181 Newmarch (B. A. 1857): "1364. The reserve of bullion in the Bank of England is, in truth, the 
+central reserve or hoard of treasure upon which the whole trade of the country is made to turn; all the 
+other banks in the country look to the Bank of England as the central hoard or reservoir from which they 
+are to draw their reserve of coin; and it is upon that hoard or reservoir that the action of the foreign 
+exchanges always falls." 
+
+fl91 "Practically, then, both Mr. Tooke and Mr. Loyd would meet an additional demand for gold... by an 
+early... contraction of credit by raising the rate of interest, and restricting advances of capital... But the 
+principles of Mr. Loyd lead to certain [legal] restrictions and regulations which produce the most serious 
+inconvenience." (Economist [December 11], 1847, p. 1418.) 
+
+[201 "You quite agree that there is no mode by which you can modify the demand for bullion except by 
+raising the rate of interest? " — Chapman [associate member of the great bill-brokers' firm of Overend, 
+Gurney & Co.]: "I should say so... When our bullion falls to a certain point, we had better sound the 
+tocsin at once and say we are drooping, and every man sending money abroad must do it at his own 
+peril." (B. A. 1857, Evidence No. 5057.) 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 36 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Ch. 36 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+Capital Vol. Three 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+II 
+
+
+
+PARTV 
+
+DIVISION OF PROFIT INTO INTEREST AND PROFIT OF 
+
+ENTERPRISE. INTEREST-BEARING CAPITAL 
+
+(Continued) 
+
+
+
+Chapter 36 
+
+Pre-Capitalist Relationships 
+
+
+
+Interest-bearing capital, or, as we may call it in its antiquated form, usurer's capital, belongs together with 
+its twin brother, merchant's capital, to the antediluvian forms of capital, which long precede the capitalist 
+mode of production and are to be found in the most diverse economic formations of society. 
+
+The existence of usurer's capital merely requires that at least a portion of products should be transformed 
+into commodities, and that money should have developed in its various functions along with trade in 
+commodities. 
+
+The development of usurer's capital is bound up with the development of merchant's capital and 
+especially that of money-dealing capital. In ancient Rome, beginning with the last years of the Republic, 
+when manufacturing stood far below its average level of development in the ancient world, merchant's 
+capital, money-dealing capital, and usurer's capital developed to their highest point within the ancient 
+form. 
+
+We have seen (English edition: Vol. I, pp. 130-34. — Ed.) that hoarding necessarily appears along with 
+money. But the professional hoarder does not become important until he is transformed into a usurer. 
+
+The merchant borrows money in order to make a profit with it, in order to use it as capital, that is, to 
+expend it. Hence in earlier forms of society the money-lender stands in the same relation to him as to the 
+modern capitalist. This specific relation was also experienced by the Catholic universities. "The 
+universities of Alcala, Salamanca, Ingolstadt, Freiburg in Breisgau, Mayence, Cologne, Treves, one after 
+another recognized the legality of interest for commercial loans. The first five of these approbations were 
+deposited in the archives of the Consulate of the city of Lyons and published in the appendix to the 
+Traite de I'usure et des interets, by Bruyset-Ponthus, Lyons." (M. Augier, Le Credit public, etc., Paris, 
+1842, p. 206.) In all the forms ill which slave economy (not the patriarchal kind, but that of later Grecian 
+and Roman times) serves as a means of amassing wealth, where money therefore is a means of 
+appropriating the labour of others through the purchase of slaves, land, etc., money can be expanded as 
+
+
+
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+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Ch. 36 
+
+capital, i.e., bear interest, for the very reason that it can be so invested. 
+
+The characteristic forms, however, in which usurer's capital exists in periods antedating capitalist 
+production are of two kinds. I purposely say characteristic forms. The same forms repeat themselves on 
+the basis of capitalist production, but as mere subordinate forms. They are then no longer the forms 
+which determine the character of interest-bearing capital. These two forms are: first, usury by lending 
+money to extravagant members of the upper classes, particularly landowners; secondly, usury by lending 
+money to small producers who possess their own conditions of labour-this includes the artisan, but 
+mainly the peasant, since particularly under pre-capitalist conditions, in so far as they permit of small 
+independent individual producers, the peasant class necessarily constitutes the overwhelming majority of 
+them. 
+
+Both the ruin of rich landowners through usury and the impoverishment of the small producers lead to 
+the formation and concentration of large amounts of money-capital. But to what extent this process does 
+away with the old mode of production, as happened in modern Europe, and whether it puts the capitalist 
+mode of production in its stead, depends entirely upon the stage of historical development and the 
+attendant circumstances. 
+
+Usurer's capital as the characteristic form of interest-bearing capital corresponds to the predominance of 
+small-scale production of the self-employed peasant and small master craftsman. When the labourer is 
+confronted by the conditions of labour and by the product of labour in the shape of capital, as under the 
+developed capitalist mode of production, he has no occasion to borrow any money as a producer. When 
+he does any money borrowing, he does so, for instance, at the pawnshop to secure personal necessities. 
+But wherever the labourer is the owner, whether actual or nominal, of his conditions of labour and his 
+product, he stands as a producer in relation to the money-lender's capital, which confronts him as usurer's 
+capital. Newman expresses the matter insipidly when he says the banker is respected, while the usurer is 
+hated and despised, because the banker lends to the rich, whereas the usurer lends to the poor. (F. W. 
+Newman, Lectures on Political Economy, London, 1851, p. 44.) He overlooks the fact that a difference 
+between two modes of social production and their corresponding social orders lies at the heart of the 
+matter and that the situation cannot be explained by the distinction between rich and poor. Moreover, the 
+usury which sucks dry the small producer goes hand in hand with the usury which sucks dry the rich 
+owner of a large estate. As soon as the usury of the Roman patricians had completely ruined the Roman 
+plebeians, the small peasants, this form of exploitation came to an end and a pure slave economy 
+replaced the small-peasant economy. 
+
+In the form of interest, the entire surplus above the barest means of subsistence (the amount that later 
+becomes wages of the producers) can be consumed by usury (this later assumes the form of profit and 
+ground-rent), and hence it is highly absurd to compare the level of this interest, which assimilates all the 
+surplus-value excepting the share claimed by the state, with the level of the modern interest rate, where 
+interest constitutes at least normally only a part of the surplus-value. Such a comparison overlooks that 
+the wage-worker produces and gives to the capitalist who employs him, profit, interest and ground-rent, 
+i.e., the entire surplus- value. Carey makes this absurd comparison in order to show how advantageous the 
+development of capital, and the fall in the interest rate that accompanies it, are for the labourer. 
+Furthermore, while the usurer, not content with squeezing the surplus-labour out of his victim, gradually 
+acquires possession even of his very conditions of labour, land, house, etc., and is continually engaged in 
+thus expropriating him, it is again forgotten that, on the other hand, this complete expropriation of the 
+labourer from his conditions of labour is not a result which the capitalist mode of production seeks to 
+
+
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+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Ch. 36 
+
+achieve, but rather the established condition for its point of departure. The wage-slave, just like the real 
+slave, cannot become a creditor's slave due to his position-at least in his capacity as producer; the 
+wage-slave, it is true, can become a creditor's slave in his capacity as consumer. Usurer's capital in the 
+form whereby it indeed appropriates all of the surplus-labour of the direct producers, without altering the 
+mode of production; whereby the ownership or possession by the producers of the conditions of labour 
+and small-scale production corresponding to this-is its essential prerequisite; whereby, in other words, 
+capital does not directly subordinate labour to itself, and does not, therefore, confront it as industrial 
+capital-this usurer's capital impoverishes the mode of production, paralyses the productive forces instead 
+of developing them, and at the same time perpetuates the miserable conditions in which the social 
+productivity of labour is not developed at the expense of labour itself, as in the capitalist mode of 
+production. 
+
+Usury thus exerts, on the one hand, an undermining and destructive influence on ancient and feudal 
+wealth and ancient and feudal property. On the other hand, it undermines and ruins small-peasant and 
+small-burgher production, in short, all forms in which the producer still appears as the owner of his 
+means of production. Under the developed capitalist mode of production, the labourer is not the owner of 
+the means of production, i.e., the field which he cultivates, the raw materials which he processes, etc. But 
+under this system separation of the producer from the means of production reflects an actual revolution in 
+the mode of production itself. The isolated labourers are brought together in large workshops for the 
+purpose of carrying out separate but interconnected activities; the tool becomes a machine. The mode of 
+production itself no longer permits the dispersion of the instruments of production associated with small 
+property; nor does it permit the isolation of the labourer himself. Under the capitalist mode of production 
+usury can no longer separate the producer from his means of production, for they have already been 
+separated. 
+
+Usury centralizes money wealth where the means of production are dispersed. It does not alter the mode 
+of production, but attaches itself firmly to it like a parasite and makes it wretched. It sucks out its blood, 
+enervates it and compels reproduction to proceed under ever more pitiable conditions. Hence the popular 
+hatred against usurers, which was most pronounced in the ancient world where ownership of means of 
+production by the producer himself was at the same time the basis for political status, the independence 
+of the citizen. 
+
+To the extent that slavery prevails, or in so far as the surplus product is consumed by the feudal lord and 
+his retinue, while either the slave-owner or the feudal lord fall into the clutches of the usurer, the mode of 
+production still remains the same; it only becomes harder on the labourer. The indebted slave holder or 
+feudal lord becomes more oppressive because he is himself more oppressed. Or he finally makes way for 
+the usurer, who becomes a landed proprietor or a slave-holder himself, like the knights in ancient Rome. 
+The place of the old exploiter, whose exploitation was more or less patriarchal because it was largely a 
+means of political power, is taken by a hard, money mad parvenu. But the mode of production itself is 
+not altered thereby. 
+
+Usury has a revolutionary effect in all pre-capitalist modes of production only in so far as it destroys and 
+dissolves those forms of property on whose solid foundation and continual reproduction in the same form 
+the political organization is based. Under Asian forms, usury can continue a long time, without producing 
+anything more than economic decay and political corruption. Only where and when the other 
+prerequisites of capitalist production are present does usury become one of the means assisting in 
+establishment of the new mode of production by ruining the feudal lord and small-scale producer, on the 
+
+
+
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+
+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Ch. 36 
+
+one hand, and centralizing the conditions of labour into capital, on the other. 
+
+In the Middle Ages no country had a general rate of interest. The Church forbade, from the outset, all 
+lending at interest. Laws and courts offered little protection for loans. Interest was so much the higher in 
+individual cases. The limited circulation of money, the need to make most payments in cash, compelled 
+people to borrow money, and all the more so when the exchange business has still undeveloped. There 
+were large divergence's both in interest rates and the conceptions of usury. In the time of Charlemagne it 
+was considered usurious to charge 100%. In Lindau on Lake Constance, some local burghers took 216 
+2/3% in 1348. In Zurich, the City Council decreed that 43 1/3% should be the legal interest rate. In Italy 
+40% had to be paid sometimes, although the usual rate from the 12th to the 14th century did not exceed 
+20%. Verona ordered that 12 1/2% be the legal rate. Emperor Friedrich II fixed the rate at 10%, but only 
+for Jews. He did not deign to speak for Christians. In the German Rhine provinces, 10% was the rule as 
+early as the 13th century. (Hullmann, Geschichte des Studtewesens, II, S. 55-57.) 
+
+Usurer's capital employs the method of exploitation characteristic of capital yet without the latter's mode 
+of production. This condition also repeats itself within bourgeois economy, in backward branches of 
+industry or in those branches which resist the transition to the modern mode of production. For instance, 
+if we wish to compare the English interest rate with the Indian, we should not take the interest rate of the 
+Bank of England, but rather, e.g., that charged by lenders of small machinery to small producers in 
+domestic industry. 
+
+Usury, in contradistinction to consuming wealth, is historically important, inasmuch as it is in itself a 
+process generating capital. Usurer's capital and merchant's wealth promote the formation of moneyed 
+wealth independent of landed property. The less products assume the character of commodities, and the 
+less intensively and extensively exchange-value has taken hold of production, the more does money 
+appear as actual wealth as such, as wealth in general-in contrast to its limited representation in 
+use-values. This is the basis of hoarding. Aside from money as world-money and as hoard, it is, in 
+particular, the form of means of payment whereby it appears as the absolute form of commodities. And it 
+is especially its function as a means of payment which develops interest and thereby money-capital. 
+What squandering and corrupting wealth desires is money as such, money as a means of buying 
+everything (also as a means of paying debts). The small producer needs money above all for making 
+payments. (The transformation of services and taxes in kind to landlords and the state into money-rent 
+and money-taxes plays a great role here.) In either case, money is needed as such. On the other hand, it is 
+in usury that hoarding first becomes reality and that the hoarder fulfills his dream. What is sought from 
+the owner of a hoard is not capital, but money as such; but by means of interest he transforms this hoard 
+of money into capital, that is, into a means of appropriating surplus labour in part or in its entirety, and 
+similarly securing a hold on a part of the means of production themselves, even though they may 
+nominally remain the property of others. Usury lives in the pores of production, as it were, just as the 
+gods of Epicurus lived in the space between worlds. Money is so much harder to obtain, the less the 
+commodity-form constitutes the general form of products. Hence the usurer knows no other barrier but 
+the capacity of those who need money to pay or to resist. In small-peasant and small-burgher production 
+money serves as a means of purchase, mainly, whenever the means of production of the labourer (who is 
+still predominantly their owner under these modes of production) are lost to him either by accident or 
+through extraordinary upheavals, or at least are not replaced in the normal course of reproduction. Means 
+of subsistence and raw materials constitute an essential part of these requirements of production. If these 
+become more expensive, it may make it impossible to replace them out of the returns for the product, just 
+as ordinary crop failures may prevent the peasant from replacing his seed in kind. The same wars through 
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+which the Roman patricians ruined the plebe jails by compelling them to serve as soldiers and which 
+prevented them from reproducing their conditions of labour, and therefore made paupers of them (and 
+pauperization, the crippling or loss of the prerequisites of reproduction is here the predominant form) 
+these same wars filled the store-rooms and coffers of the patricians with looted copper, the money of that 
+time. Instead of directly giving plebeians the necessary commodities, i.e., grain, horses, and cattle, they 
+loaned them this copper for which they had no use themselves, and took advantage of this situation to 
+exact enormous usurious interest, thereby turning the plebeians into their debtor slaves. During the reign 
+of Charlemagne, the Frankish peasants were likewise ruined by wars, so that they faced no choice but to 
+become serfs instead of debtors. In the Roman Empire, as is known, extreme hunger frequently resulted 
+in the sale of children and also in free men selling themselves as slaves to the rich. So much for general 
+turning-points. In individual cases the maintenance or loss of the means of production on the part of 
+small producers depends on a thousand contingencies, and every one of these contingencies or losses 
+signifies impoverishment and becomes a crevice into which a parasitic usurer may creep. The mere death 
+of his cow may render the small peasant incapable of renewing his reproduction on its former scale. He 
+then falls into the clutches of the usurer, and once in the usurer's power he can never extricate himself. 
+
+The really important and characteristic domain of the usurer, however, is the function of money as a 
+means of payment. Every payment of money, ground-rent, tribute, tax, etc., which becomes due on a 
+certain date, carries with it the need to secure money for such a purpose. Hence from the days of ancient 
+Rome to those of modern times, wholesale usury relies upon tax-collectors, fermiers generaux, receveurs 
+generaux. Then, there develops with commerce and the generalization of commodity-production the 
+separation, in time, of purchase and payment. The money has to be paid on a definite date. How this can 
+lead to circumstances in which the money-capitalist and usurer, even nowadays, merge into one is shown 
+by modern money crises. This same usury, however, becomes one of the principal means of further 
+developing the necessity for money as a means of payment-by driving the producer ever more deeply 
+into debt and destroying his usual means of payment, since the burden of interest alone makes his normal 
+reproduction impossible. At this point, usury sprouts up out of money as a means of payment and extends 
+this function of money as its very own domain. 
+
+The credit system develops as a reaction against usury. But this should not be misunderstood, nor by any 
+means interpreted in the manner of the ancient writers, the church fathers, Luther or the early socialists. It 
+signifies no more and no less than the subordination of interest-bearing capital to the conditions and 
+requirements of the capitalist mode of production. 
+
+On the whole, interest-bearing capital under the modern credit system is adapted to the conditions of the 
+capitalist mode of production. Usury as such does not only continue to exist, but is even freed, among 
+nations with a developed capitalist production, from the fetters imposed upon it by all previous 
+legislation. Interest-bearing capital retains the form of usurer's capital in relation to persons or classes, or 
+in circumstances where borrowing does not, nor can, take place in the sense corresponding to the 
+capitalist mode of production; where borrowing takes place as a result of individual need, as at the 
+pawnshop; where money is borrowed by wealthy spendthrifts for the purpose of squandering; or where 
+the producer is a non-capitalist producer, such as a small farmer or craftsman, who is thus still, as the 
+immediate producer, the owner of his own means of production; finally where the capitalist producer 
+himself operates on such a small scale that he resembles those self-employed producers. 
+
+What distinguishes interest-bearing capital — in so far as it is an essential element of the capitalist mode 
+of production — from usurer's capital is by no means the nature or character of this capital itself. It is 
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+merely the altered conditions under which it operates, and consequently also the totally transformed 
+character of the borrower who confronts the money-lender. Even when a man without fortune receives 
+credit in his capacity of industrialist or merchant, it occurs with the expectation that he will function as 
+capitalist and appropriate unpaid labour with the borrowed capital. He receives credit in his capacity of 
+potential capitalist. The circumstance that a man without fortune but possessing energy, solidity, ability 
+and business acumen may become a capitalist in this manner-and the commercial value of each 
+individual is pretty accurately estimated under the capitalist mode of production-is greatly admired by 
+apologists of the capitalist system. Although this circumstance continually brings an unwelcome number 
+of new soldiers of fortune into the field and into competition with the already existing individual 
+capitalists, it also reinforces the supremacy of capital itself, expands its base and enables it to recruit ever 
+new forces for itself out of the substratum of society. In a similar way, the circumstance that the Catholic 
+Church in the Middle Ages formed its hierarchy out of the best brains in the land, regardless of their 
+estate, birth or fortune, was one of the principal means of consolidating ecclesiastical rule and 
+suppressing the laity. The more a ruling class is able to assimilate the foremost minds of a ruled class, the 
+more stable and dangerous becomes its rule. 
+
+The initiators of the modern credit system take as their point of departure not an anathema against 
+interest-bearing capital in general, but on the contrary, its explicit recognition. 
+
+We are not referring here to such reactions against usury which attempted to protect the poor against it, 
+like the Monts-de-piete (1350 in Sarlins in Franche-Comte, later in Perugia and Savona in Italy, 1400 and 
+1479). These are noteworthy mainly because they reveal the irony of history, which turns pious wishes 
+into their very opposite during the process of realization. According to a moderate estimate, the English 
+working-class pays 100% to the pawnshops, the modern successors of Monts-de-piete f211 We are also 
+not referring to the credit fantasies of such men as Dr. Hugh Chamberleyne or John Briscoe, who 
+attempted during the last decade of the 17th century to emancipate the English aristocracy from usury by 
+means of a farmers' bank using paper money based on real estate. \22\ 
+
+The credit associations established in the 12th and 14th centuries in Venice and Genoa arose from the 
+need for marine commerce and the wholesale trade associated with it to emancipate themselves from the 
+domination of out-moded usury and the monopolization of the money business. While the actual banks 
+founded in those city-republics assumed simultaneously the shape of public credit institutions from 
+which the state received loans on future tax revenues, it should not be forgotten that the merchants 
+founding those associations were themselves prominent citizens of those states and as much interested in 
+emancipating their government as they were in emancipating themselves from the exactions of usurers, 
+f231 and at the same time in getting tighter and more secure control over the state. Hence, when the Bank 
+of England was to be established, the Tories also protested: "Banks are republican institutions. 
+Flourishing banks existed in Venice, Genoa, Amsterdam, and Hamburg. But who ever heard of a Bank of 
+France or Spain?" 
+
+The Bank of Amsterdam, in 1609, was not epoch-making in the development of the modern credit 
+system any more than that of Hamburg in 1619. It was purely a bank for deposits. The checks issued by 
+the bank were indeed merely receipts for the deposited coined and uncoined precious metal, and 
+circulated only with the endorsement of the acceptors. But in Holland commercial credit and dealing in 
+money developed hand in hand with commerce and manufacture, and interest-bearing capital was 
+subordinated to industrial and commercial capital by the course of development itself. This could already 
+be seen in the low interest rate. Holland, however, was considered in the 17th century the model of 
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+economic development, as England is now. The monopoly of old-style usury, based on poverty, 
+collapsed in that country of its own weight. 
+
+During the entire 18th century there is the cry, with Holland referred to as an example, for a compulsory 
+reduction of the rate of interest (and legislation acts accordingly), in order to subordinate interest-bearing 
+capital to commercial and industrial capital, instead of the reverse. The main spokesman for this 
+movement is Sir Josiah Child, the father of ordinary English private banking. He declaims against the 
+monopoly of usurers in much the same way as the wholesale clothing manufacturers, Moses & Son, do 
+when leading the light against the monopoly of "private tailors." This same Josiah Child is 
+simultaneously the father of English stock-jobbing. Thus, this autocrat of the East India Company 
+defends its monopoly in the name of free trade. Versus Thomas Manley (Interest of Money Mistaken — 
+Thomas Manley was not the author of this book. It was published anonymously in London in 1668. — 
+Ed.) he says: "As the champion of the timid and trembling band of usurers he erects his main batteries at 
+that point which I have declared to be the weakest he denies point-blank that the low rate of interest is the 
+cause of wealth and vows that it is merely its effect." (Traites sur le Commerce, etc., 1669, trad. 
+Amsterdam et Berlin, 1754.) "If it is commerce that enriches a country, and if a lowering of interest 
+increases commerce, then a lowering of interest or a restriction of usury is doubtless a fruitful primary 
+cause of the wealth of a nation. It is not at all absurd to say that the same thing may be simultaneously a 
+cause under certain circumstances, and an effect under others" (1. c, p. 155). "The egg is the cause of the 
+hen, and the hen is the cause of the egg. The lowering of interest may cause an increase of wealth, and 
+the increase of wealth may cause a still greater reduction of interest" (1. c, p. 156). "I am the defender of 
+industry and my opponent defends laziness and sloth" (p. 179). 
+
+This violent battle against usury, this demand for the subordination of interest-bearing capital to 
+industrial capital, is but the herald of the organic creations that establish these prerequisites of capitalist 
+production in the modern banking system, which on the one hand robs usurer's capital of its monopoly by 
+concentrating all idle money reserves and throwing them on the moneymarket, and on the other hand 
+limits the monopoly of the precious metal itself by creating credit-money. 
+
+The same opposition to usury, the demand for the emancipation of commerce, industry and the state from 
+usury, which are observed here in the case of Child, will be found in all writings on banking in England 
+during the last third of the 17th and the early 18th centuries. We also find colossal illusions about the 
+miraculous effects of credit, abolition of the monopoly of precious metal, its displacement by paper, etc. 
+The Scotsman William Paterson, founder of the Bank of England and the Bank of Scotland, is by all odds 
+Law the First. 
+
+Against the Bank of England "all goldsmiths and pawnbrokers set up a howl of rage." (Macaulay, 
+History of England, IV, p.499.) 
+
+"During the first ten years the Bank had to struggle with great difficulties; great foreign 
+feuds; its notes were only accepted far below their nominal value... the goldsmiths (in whose 
+hands the trade in precious metals served as a basis of a primitive banking business) were 
+jealous of the Bank, because their business was diminished, their discounts were lowered, 
+their transactions with the government had passed to their opponents." (3. Francis, 1. c, p. 
+73.) 
+
+Even before the establishment of the Bank of England a plan was proposed in 1683 for a National Bank 
+of Credit, which had for its purpose, among others, "that tradesmen, when they have a considerable 
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+quantity of goods, may, by the help of this bank, deposit their goods, by raising a credit on their own 
+dead stock, employ their servants, and increase their trade, till they get a good market instead of selling 
+them at a loss" [J. Francis, 1. c, pp. 39-40]. After many endeavors this Bank of Credit was established in 
+Devonshire House on Bishopsgate Street. It made loans to industrialists and merchants on the security of 
+deposited goods to the amount of three-quarters of their value, in the form of bills of exchange. In order 
+to make these bills of exchange capable of circulating, a number of people in each branch of business 
+were organized into a society, from which every possessor of such bills would be able to obtain goods 
+with the same facility as if he were to offer them cash payment. This bank's business did not flourish. Its 
+machinery was too complicated, and the risk too great in case of a commodity depreciation. 
+
+If we go by the actual content of those records which accompany and theoretically promote the formation 
+of the modern credit system in England, we shall not find anything in them but-as one of its 
+conditions-the demand for a subordination of interest-bearing capital and of loanable means of 
+production in general to the capitalist mode of production. On the other hand, if we simply cling to the 
+phraseology, we shall be frequently surprised by the agreement-including the mode of expression with 
+the illusions of the followers of Saint- Simon about banking and credit. 
+
+Just as in the writings of the physiocrats the cultivateur does not stand for the actual tiller of the soil, but 
+for the big farmer, so the travailleur with Saint-Simon, and continuing on through his disciples, does not 
+stand for the labourer, but for the industrial and commercial capitalist. "Un travailleur a besoin d'aides, de 
+seconds, d'ouvriers; il les cherche intelligents, habiles, devoues: il les met a l'oeuvre, et leurs travaux sont 
+productifs" ( [Enfantin] A travailleur (worker) needs helpers, supporters, labourers; he looks for such as 
+are intelligent, able, devoted; he puts them to work, and their labour is productive." (Religion 
+saint-simonienne, Economie politique et Politique, Paris, 1831, p. 104.). 
+
+In fact, one should bear in mind that only in his last work, Le Nouveau Christianisme, Saint-Simon 
+speaks directly for the working-class and declares their emancipation to be the goal of his efforts. All his 
+former writings are, indeed, mere encomiums of modern bourgeois society in contrast to the feudal order, 
+or of industrialists and bankers in contrast to marshals and juristic law-manufacturers of the Napoleonic 
+era. What a difference compared with the contemporaneous writings of Owen! f241 For the followers of 
+Saint-Simon, the industrial capitalist likewise remains the travailleur par excellence, as the above-quoted 
+passage indicates. After reading their writings critically, one will not be surprised that their credit and 
+bank fantasies materialized in the credit mobilier , founded by an ex-follower of Saint-Simon, Emile 
+Pereire. This form, incidentally, could become dominant only in a country like France, where neither the 
+credit system nor large-scale industry had reached the modern level of development. This was not at all 
+possible in England and America. The embryo of credit mobilizer is already contained in the following 
+passages from Doctrine de Saint-Simon. Exposition. Premiere annee, 1828-29, 3me ed., Paris, 1831. It is 
+understandable that bankers can lend money more cheaply than the capitalists and private usurers. These 
+bankers are, therefore, "able to supply tools to the industrialists far more cheaply, that is, at lower 
+interest, than the real estate owners and capitalists, who may be more easily mistaken in their choice of 
+borrowers" (p. 202). But the authors themselves add in a footnote: "The advantage that would accrue 
+from the mediation of bankers between the idle rich and the travailleurs is often counterbalanced, or 
+even canceled, by the opportunities offered in our disorganized society to egoism, which may manifest 
+itself in various forms of fraud and charlatanism. The bankers often worm their way between the 
+travailleurs and idle rich for the purpose of exploiting both to the detriment of society." Travailleur here 
+means capitaliste industriel. Incidentally, it is wrong to regard the means at the command of the modern 
+banking system merely as the means of idle people. In the first place, it is the portion of capital which 
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+industrialists and merchants temporarily hold in the form of idle money, as a money reserve or as capital 
+to be invested. Hence it is idle capital, but not capital of the idle. In the second place, it is the portion of 
+all revenue and savings in general which is to be temporarily or permanently accumulated. Both are 
+essential to the nature of the banking system. 
+
+But it should always be borne in mind that, in the first place, money-in the form of precious 
+metal-remains the foundation from which the credit system, by its very nature, can never detach itself. 
+Secondly, that the credit system presupposes the monopoly of social means of production by private 
+persons (in the form of capital and landed property), that it is itself, on the one hand, an immanent form 
+of the capitalist mode of production, and on the other, a driving force in its development to its highest 
+and ultimate form. 
+
+The banking system, so far as its formal organization and centralization is concerned, is the most 
+artificial and most developed product turned out by the capitalist mode of production, a fact already 
+expressed in 1697 in Some Thoughts of the Interests of England. This accounts for the immense power of 
+an institution such as the Bank of England over commerce and industry, although their actual movements 
+remain completely beyond its province and it is passive toward them. The banking system possesses 
+indeed the form of universal book-keeping and distribution of means of production on a social scale, but 
+solely the form. We have seen that the average profit of the individual capitalist, or of every individual 
+capital, is determined not by the surplus-labour appropriated at first hand by each capital, but by the 
+quantity of total surplus-labour appropriated by the total capital, from which each individual capital 
+receives its dividend only proportional to its aliquot part of the total capital. This social character of 
+capital is first promoted and wholly realized through the full development of the credit and banking 
+system. On the other hand this goes farther. It places all the available and even potential capital of society 
+that is not already actively employed at the disposal of the industrial and commercial capitalists so that 
+neither the lenders nor users of this capital are its real owners or producers. It thus does away with the 
+private character of capital and thus contains in itself, but only in itself, the abolition of capital itself. By 
+means of the banking system the distribution of capital as a special business, a social function, is taken 
+out of the hands of the private capitalists and usurers. But at the same time, banking and credit thus 
+become the most potent means of driving capitalist production beyond its own limits, and one of the most 
+effective vehicles of crises and swindle. 
+
+The banking system shows, furthermore, by substituting various forms of circulating credit in place of 
+money, that money is in reality nothing but a particular expression of the social character of labour and 
+its products, which, however, as antithetical to the basis of private production, must always appear in the 
+last analysis as a thing, a special commodity, alongside other commodities. 
+
+Finally, there is no doubt that the credit system will serve as a powerful lever during the transition from 
+the capitalist mode of production to the mode of production of associated labour; but only as one element 
+in connection with other great organic revolutions of the mode of production itself. On the other hand, 
+the illusions concerning the miraculous power of the credit and banking system, in the socialist sense, 
+arise from a complete lack of familiarity with the capitalist mode of production and the credit system as 
+one of its forms. As soon as the means of production cease being transformed into capital (which also 
+includes the abolition of private property in land), credit as such no longer has any meaning. This, 
+incidentally, was even understood by the followers of Saint-Simon. On the other hand, as long as the 
+capitalist mode of production continues to exist, interest-bearing capital, as one of its forms, also 
+continues to exist and constitutes in fact the basis of its credit system. Only that sensational writer, 
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+Proudhon, who wanted to perpetuate commodity-production and abolish money, f251 was capable of 
+dreaming up the monstrous credit gratuit, the ostensible realization of the pious wish of the 
+petty-bourgeois estate. 
+
+In Religion saint- simonienne, economie politique et Politique, we read on page 45: "Credit serves the 
+purpose, in a society in which some own the instruments of industry without the ability or will to employ 
+them, and where other industrious people have no instruments of labour, of transferring these instruments 
+in the easiest manner possible from the hands of the former, their owners, to the hands of the others who 
+know how to use them. Note that this definition regards credit as a result of the way in which property is 
+constituted." Therefore, credit disappears with this constitution of property. We read, furthermore, on 
+page 98, that the present banks "consider it their business to follow the movement initiated by 
+transactions taking place outside of their domain, but not themselves to provide an impulse to this 
+movement; in other words, the banks perform the role of capitalists in relation to the travailleurs, whom 
+they loan money." The notion that the banks themselves should take over the management and 
+distinguish themselves "through the number and usefulness of their managed establishments and of 
+promoted works" (p. 101) contains the credit mobilizer in embryo. In the same way, Charles Pecqueur 
+demands that the banks (which the followers of Saint-Simon call a Systeme general des banques) "should 
+rule production." Pecqueur is essentially a follower of Saint-Simon, but much more radical. He wants 
+"the credit institution... to control the entire movement of national production." — "Try to create a 
+national credit institution, which shall advance the wherewithal to needy people of talent and merit, 
+without, however, forcibly tying these borrowers together through close solidarity in production and 
+consumption, but on the contrary enabling them to determine their own exchange and production. In this 
+way, you will only accomplish what the private banks already accomplish now, that is, anarchy, 
+disproportion between production and consumption, the sudden ruin of one person, and the sudden 
+enrichment of another; so that your institution will never get any farther than producing a certain amount 
+of benefits for one person, corresponding to an equivalent amount of misfortune to be endured by 
+another... and you will have only provided the wage-labourers assisted by you with the means to compete 
+with one another just as their capitalist masters now do." (Ch. Pecqueur, Theorie Nouvelle economie 
+Sociale et Politique, Paris, 1842, p. 434.) 
+
+We have seen that merchant's capital and interest-bearing capital are the oldest forms of capital. But it is 
+in the nature of things that interest-bearing capital assumes in popular conception the form of capital par 
+excellence. In merchant's capital there takes place the work of middleman, no matter whether considered 
+as cheating, labour, or anything else. But in the case of interest-bearing capital the self -reproducing 
+character of capital, the self-expanding value, the production of surplus value, appears purely as an occult 
+property. This accounts for the fact that even some political economists, particularly in countries where 
+industrial capital is not yet fully developed, as in France, cling to interest-bearing capital as the 
+fundamental form of capital and regard ground-rent, for example, merely as a modified form of it, since 
+the loan-form also predominates here. In this way, the internal organisation of the capitalist mode of 
+production is completely misunderstood, and the fact is entirely overlooked that land, like capital, is 
+loaned only to capitalists. Of course, means of production in kind, such as machines and business offices, 
+can also be loaned instead of money. But they then represent a definite sum of money, and the fact that in 
+addition to interest a part is paid for wear and tear is due to their use- value, i.e., the specific natural form 
+of these elements of capital. The decisive factor here is again whether they are loaned to direct producers, 
+which would presuppose the non-existence of the capitalist mode of production-at least in the sphere in 
+which this occurs-or whether they are loaned to industrial capitalists, which is precisely the assumption 
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+based upon the capitalist mode of production. It is still more irrelevant and meaningless to drag the 
+lending of houses, etc., for individual use into this discussion. That the working-class is also swindled in 
+this form, and to an enormous extent, is self evident; but this is also done by the retail dealer, who sells 
+means of subsistence to the worker. This is secondary exploitation, which runs parallel to the primary 
+exploitation taking place in the production process itself. The distinction between selling and loaning is 
+quite immaterial in this case and merely formal, and, as already indicated, ((Present edition: pp. 345-50. 
+— Ed.) cannot appear as essential to anyone, unless he be wholly unfamiliar with the actual nature of the 
+problem. 
+
+Usury, like commerce, exploits a given mode of production. It does not create it, but is related to it 
+outwardly. Usury tries to maintain it directly, so as to exploit it ever anew; it is conservative and makes 
+this mode of production only more pitiable. The less elements of production enter into the production 
+process as commodities, and emerge from it as commodities, the more does their origination from money 
+appear as a separate act. The more insignificant the role played by circulation in the social reproduction, 
+the more usury flourishes. 
+
+That money wealth develops as a special kind of wealth, means in respect to usurer's capital that it 
+possesses all its claims in the form of money claims. It develops that much more in a given country, the 
+more the main body of production is limited to natural services, etc., that is, to use-values. 
+
+Usury is a powerful lever in developing the preconditions for industrial capital in 50 far as it plays the 
+following double role, first, building up, in general, an independent money wealth alongside that of the 
+merchant, and, secondly, appropriating the conditions of labour, that is, ruining the owners of the old 
+conditions of labour. 
+
+INTEREST IN THE MIDDLE AGES 
+
+"In the Middle Ages the population was purely agricultural. Under such a government as 
+was the feudal system there can be but little traffic, and hence but little profit. Hence the 
+laws against usury were justified in the Middle Ages. Besides, in an agricultural country a 
+person seldom wants to borrow money except he be reduced to poverty or distress... In the 
+reign of Henry VIII, interest was limited to 10 per cent, lames I reduced it to 8 per cent... 
+Charles II reduced it to 6 per cent; in the reign of Queen Anne, it was reduced to 5 per cent... 
+In those times, the lenders... had, in fact, though not a legal, yet an actual monopoly, and 
+hence it was necessary that they, like other monopolists, should be placed under restraint. In 
+our times, it is the rate of profit which regulates the rate of interest. In those times, it was the 
+rate of interest which regulated the rate of profit. If the money-lender charged a high rate of 
+interest to the merchant, the merchant must have charged a higher rate of profit on his 
+goods. Hence, a large sum of money would be taken from the pockets of the purchasers to 
+be put into the pockets of the money-lenders." (Gilbart, History and Principles of Banking, 
+pp. 163, 164, 165.) 
+
+"I have been told that 10 gulden are now taken annually at every Leipzig Fair, (The author 
+has in mind the loan of 100 gulden with interest payable in three installments at the Leipzig 
+Fair, held three times annually: Easter and St. Michael's Day) that is, 30 on each hundred, 
+some add the Neuenburg Fair, thus making 40 per hundred; whether that is so, I don't know. 
+For shame! What will be the infernal outcome of this?... Whoever now has 100 florins at 
+Leipzig takes 40 annually, which is the same as devouring one peasant or burgher each year. 
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+
+If one has 1,000 florins, he takes 400 annually which means devouring a knight or a rich 
+nobleman per year' If one has 10,000 florins, he takes 4,000 per year, which means 
+devouring a rich count each year. If one has 100,000 florins, as the big merchants must 
+possess, he takes 40,000 annually, which means devouring one affluent prince each year. If 
+one has 1,000,000 florins, he takes 400,000 annually, which means devouring one mighty 
+king every year. And he does not risk either his person or his wares, does not work, sits near 
+his fire-place and roasts apples; so might a lowly robber sit at home and devour a whole 
+world in ten years." (Quoted from Bucher vom Kaufhandel und Wucher vom Jahre 1524, 
+Luther's Werke, Wittenberg, 1589, Teil 6, S. 312.) 
+
+"Fifteen years ago I took pen in hand against usury when it had spread so alarmingly that I 
+could scarcely hope' for any improvement. Since then it has become so arrogant that it 
+deigns not to be classed as vice, sin, or shame, but achieves praise as pure virtue and honour, 
+as though it were performing a great favour and Christian service for the people. What will 
+help deliver us now that shame has turned into honour and vice into virtue?" (Martin Luther, 
+An die Pfarherrn wider den Wucher zu predigen, Wittenberg, 1540.) 
+
+
+
+"Jews, Lombards, usurers and extortioners were our first bankers, our primitive traffickers 
+in money, their character little short of infamous... They were joined by London goldsmiths. 
+As a body... our primitive bankers... were a very bad set, they were gripping usurers, 
+iron-hearted extortioners." (D. Hardcastle, Banks and Bankers, 2nd ed., London, 1843, pp. 
+19, 20.) 
+
+"The example shown by Venice (in establishing a bank) was thus quickly imitated; all 
+sea-coast towns, and in general all towns which had earned fame through their independence 
+and commerce, founded their first banks. The return voyage of their ships, which often was 
+of long duration, inevitably led to the custom of lending on credit. This was further 
+intensified by the discovery of America and the ensuing trade with that continent." (This is 
+the main point.) The chartering of ships made large loans necessary-a procedure already 
+obtaining in ancient Athens and Greece. In 1308, the Hanse town of Bruges possessed an 
+insurance company. (M. Augier, 1. c, pp. 202, 203.) 
+
+To what extent the granting of loans to landowners, and thus to the pleasure- seeking wealthy in general, 
+still prevailed in the last third of the 17th century, even in England, before the development of modern 
+credit, may be seen, among others, in the works of Sir Dudley North. He was not only one of the first 
+English merchants, but also one of the most prominent theoretical economists of his time: 
+
+"The moneys employed at interest in this nation, are not near the tenth part, disposed to 
+trading people, wherewith to manage their trades; but are for the most part lent for the 
+supplying of luxury, and to support the expense of persons, who though great owners of 
+lands, yet spend faster than their lands bring in; and being loath to sell, choose rather to 
+mortgage their estates." (Discourses upon Trade, London, 1691, pp.6-7.) 
+
+Poland in the 18th century: 
+
+"Warsaw carried on a large bustling business in bills of exchange which, however, had as its 
+principal basis and aim the usury of its bankers. In order to secure money, which they could 
+
+
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+lend to spendthrift gentry at 8% and more, they sought and obtained abroad open exchange 
+credit, that is, credit that had no commodity trade as its basis, but which the foreign drawee 
+continued to accept as long as the returns from these manipulations did not fail to come in. 
+However, they paid heavily for this through bankruptcies of men like Tapper and other 
+highly respected Warsaw bankers." (J. G. Biisch, Theoretisch-praktische Darstellung der 
+Handlung, etc., 3rd ed., Hamburg, 1808, Vol. II, pp. 232, 233.) 
+
+ADVANTAGES DERIVED BY THE CHURCH FROM THE PROHIBITION OF 
+
+INTEREST 
+
+"Taking interest had been interdicted by the Church. But selling property for the purpose of 
+finding succour in distress had not been forbidden. It had not even been prohibited to 
+transfer property to the money-lender as security for a certain term, until a debtor repaid his 
+loan, leaving the money-lender free to enjoy the usufruct of the property as a reward for his 
+abstinence from his money.... The Church itself, and its associated communes and pia 
+corpora, derived much profit from this practice, particularly during the crusades. This 
+brought a very large portion of national wealth into possession of the so-called 'dead hand,' 
+all the more so because the Jews were barred from engaging in such usury, the possession of 
+such fixed liens not being concealable... Without the ban on interest churches and cloisters 
+would never have become so affluent" (1. c, p. 55). 
+
+Footnotes 
+
+f211 "It is by frequent fluctuations within the month, and by pawning one article to relieve another, where 
+a small sum is obtained, that the premium for money becomes so excessive. There are about 240 licensed 
+pawnbrokers in the metropolis, and nearly 1,450 in the country. The capital employed is supposed 
+somewhat to exceed a million pounds sterling; and this capital is turned round thrice in the course of the 
+year, and yields each time about 33 1/2 per cent on an average; according to which calculation, the 
+inferior orders of society in England pay about one million a year for the use of a temporary loan, 
+exclusive of what they lose by goods being forfeited." (J. D. Tuckett, A History of the Past and Present 
+State of the Labouring Population, London, 1846, 1, p. 114.) 
+
+\22\ Even in the titles of their works they state as their principal purpose "the general good of the landed 
+men, the great increase of the value of land, the exemption of "the nobility, gentry, etc., from taxes, 
+enlarging their yearly estates, etc." Only the usurers would stand to lose, those worst enemies of the 
+nation who had done more injury to the nobility and yeomanry than an army of invasion from France 
+could have done. 
+
+f231 "The rich goldsmith (the precursor of the banker), for example, made Charles II of England pay 
+twenty and thirty per cent for accommodation. A business so profitable, induced the goldsmith 'more and 
+more to become lender to the King, to anticipate all the revenue, to take every grant of Parliament into 
+pawn as soon as it was given; also to outvie each other in buying and taking to pawn bills, orders, and 
+tallies, so that, in effect, all the revenue passed through their hands'." (John Francis, History of the Bank 
+of England, London, 1848, 1, p.31.) "The erection of a bank had been suggested several times before that. 
+It was at last a necessity" (1. c, p. 38). "The bank was a necessity for the government itself, sucked dry by 
+usurers, in order to obtain money at a reasonable rate, on the security of parliamentary grants" (1. c, pp. 
+
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+
+59, 60). 
+
+f241 Marx would surely have modified this passage considerably, had he reworked his manuscript. It was 
+inspired by the role of the ex-followers of Saint-Simon under France's Second Empire where just at the 
+time that Marx wrote the above, the world redeeming credit fantasies of this school through the irony of 
+history were being realised in the form of a tremendous swindle on a scale never seen before Later Marx 
+spoke only with admiration of the genius and encyclopaedic mind of Saint Simon When in his earlier 
+works the latter ignores the antithesis between the bourgeoisie and the proletariat which was just then 
+coming into existence in France when he includes among the travailleurs that part of the bourgeoisie 
+which was active in production, this corresponds to Fourier 5 conception of attempting to reconcile 
+capital and labour and is explained by the economic and political situation of France in those days The 
+fact that Owen was more far sight ad in this respect is due to his different environment, for he lived in a 
+period of industrial revolution and of acutely sharpening class antagonisms. — F. E. 
+
+f251 Karl Marx, Miser e de la Philosophic, Bruxelles et Paris, 1847. — Karl Marx, Zur Kritik der 
+politischen Oekonomie, 8.64. 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 37 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Chapter 37 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+Capital Vol. Three 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+II 
+
+
+
+Part VI 
+
+TRANSFORMATION OF SURPLUS-PROFIT INTO GROUND-RENT 
+
+
+
+Chapter 37 
+Introduction 
+
+
+
+The analysis of landed property in its various historical forms is beyond the scope of this work. We shall 
+he concerned with it only in so far as a portion of the surplus-value produced by capital falls to the share 
+of the landowner. We assume, then, that agriculture is dominated by the capitalist mode of production 
+just as manufacture is; in other words, that agriculture is carried on by capitalists who differ from other 
+capitalists primarily in the manner in which their capital, and the wage-labour set in motion by this 
+capital, are invested. So far as we are concerned, the farmer produces wheat, etc., in much the same way 
+as the manufacturer produces yarn or machines. The assumption that the capitalist mode of production 
+has encompassed agriculture implies that it rules over all spheres of production and bourgeois society, 
+i.e., that its prerequisites, such as free competition among capitals, the possibility of transferring the latter 
+from one production sphere to another, and a uniform level of the average profit, etc., are fully matured. 
+The form of landed property which we shall consider here is a specifically historical one a form 
+transformed through the influence of capital and of the capitalist mode of production, either of feudal 
+landownership, or of small-peasant agriculture as a means of livelihood, in which the possession of the 
+land and the soil constitutes one of the prerequisites of production for the direct producer, and in which 
+his ownership of land appears as the most advantageous condition for the prosperity of his mode of 
+production. Just as the capitalist mode of production in general is based on the expropriation of the 
+conditions of labour from the labourers, so does it in agriculture presuppose the expropriation of the rural 
+labourers from the land and their subordination to a capitalist, who carries on agriculture for the sake of 
+profit. Thus, for the purpose of our analysis, the objection that other forms of landed property and of 
+agriculture have existed, or still exist, is quite irrelevant. Such an objection can only apply to those 
+economists who treat the capitalist mode of production in agriculture, and the form of landed property 
+corresponding to it, not as historical but rather as eternal categories. 
+
+For our purposes it is necessary to study the modern form of landed property, because our task is to 
+consider the specific conditions of production and circulation which arise from the investment of capital 
+in agriculture. Without this, our analysis of capital would not be complete. We therefore confine 
+ourselves exclusively to the investment of capital in agriculture itself, that is, in producing the principal 
+agricultural crop which feeds a given people. We can use wheat for this purpose, because it is the 
+principal means of subsistence in modern capitalistically developed nations. (Or, instead of agriculture, 
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+we can use mining because the laws are the same for both.) 
+
+One of the big contributions of Adam Smith was to have shown that ground-rent for capital invested in 
+the production of such agricultural products as flax and dye-stuffs, and in independent cattle-raising, etc., 
+is determined by the ground-rent obtained from capital invested in the production of the principal article 
+of subsistence. [Smith, An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations, Aberdeen, 
+London, 1848, pp. 105-16. — Ed.] In fact, no further progress has been made in this regard since then. 
+Any limitations or additions would belong in an independent study of landed property, not here. Hence, 
+we shall not speak of landed property ex professo — in so far as it does not refer to land destined for 
+wheat production — but shall merely refer to it on occasion by way of illustration. 
+
+It should be noted for the sake of completeness that we also include water, etc., in the term land, in so far 
+as it belongs to someone as an accessory to the land. 
+
+Landed property is based on the monopoly by certain persons over definite portions of the globe, as 
+exclusive spheres of their private will to the exclusion of all others. [26] With this in mind, the problem is 
+to ascertain the economic value, that is, the realisation of this monopoly on the basis of capitalist 
+production. With the legal power of these persons to use or misuse certain portions of the globe, nothing 
+is decided. The use of this power depends wholly upon economic conditions, which are independent of 
+their will. The legal view itself only means that the landowner can do with the land what every owner of 
+commodities can do with his commodities. And this view, this legal view of free private ownership of 
+land, arises in the ancient world only with the dissolution of the organic order of society, and in the 
+modern world only with the development of capitalist production. It has been imported by Europeans to 
+Asia only here and there. In the section dealing with primitive accumulation (Buch I, Kap. XXIV 
+[English edition: Part VIII. — Ed].), we saw that this mode of production presupposes, on the one hand, 
+the separation of the direct producers from their position as mere accessories to the land (in the form of 
+vassals, serfs, slaves, etc.), and, on the other hand, the expropriation of the mass of the people from the 
+land. To this extent the monopoly of landed property is a historical premise, and continues to remain the 
+basis of the capitalist mode of production, just as in all previous modes of production which are based on 
+the exploitation of the masses in one form or another. But the form of landed property with which the 
+incipient capitalist mode of production is confronted does not suit it. It first creates for itself the form 
+required by subordinating agriculture to capital. It thus transforms feudal landed property, clan property, 
+small peasant property in mark communes — no matter how divergent their juristic forms may be — into 
+the economic form corresponding to the requirements of this mode of production. One of the major 
+results of the capitalist mode of production is that, on the one hand, it transforms agriculture from a mere 
+empirical and mechanical self-perpetuating process employed by the least developed part of society into 
+the conscious scientific application of agronomy, in so far as this is at all feasible under conditions of 
+private property; [271 that it divorces landed property from the relations of dominion and servitude, on the 
+one hand, and, on the other, totally separates land as an instrument of production from landed property 
+and landowner — for whom the land merely represents a certain money assessment which he collects by 
+virtue of his monopoly from the industrial capitalist, the capitalist farmer; it dissolves the connection 
+between landownership and the land so thoroughly that the landowner may spend his whole life in 
+Constantinople, while his estates lie in Scotland. Landed property thus receives its purely economic form 
+by discarding all its former political and social embellishments and associations, in brief all those 
+traditional accessories, which are denounced, as we shall see later, as useless and absurd superfluities by 
+the industrial capitalists themselves, as well as their theoretical spokesmen, in the heat of their struggle 
+
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+with landed property. The rationalising of agriculture, on the one hand, which makes it for the first time 
+capable of operating on a social scale, and the reduction ad absurdum of property in land, on the other, 
+are the great achievements of the capitalist mode of production. Like all of its other historical advances, 
+it also attained these by first completely impoverishing the direct producers. 
+
+Before we proceed to the problem itself, several more preliminary remarks are necessary to avoid 
+misunderstanding . 
+
+The prerequisites for the capitalist mode of production therefore are the following: The actual tillers of 
+the soil are wage labourers employed by a capitalist, the capitalist farmer who is engaged in agriculture 
+merely as a particular field of exploitation for capital, as investment for his capital in a particular sphere 
+of production. This capitalist farmer pays the landowner, the owner of the land exploited by him, a sum 
+of money at definite periods fixed by contract, for instance, annually (just as the borrower of 
+money-capital pays a fixed interest), for the right to invest his capital in this specific sphere of 
+production. This sum of money is called ground-rent, no matter whether it is paid for agricultural land, 
+building lots, mines, fishing grounds, or forests, etc. It is paid for the entire time for which the landowner 
+has contracted to rent his land to the capitalist farmer. Ground-rent, therefore, is here that form in which 
+property in land is realised economically, that is, produces value. Here, then, we have all three classes — 
+wage-labourers, industrial capitalists, and landowners constituting together, and in their mutual 
+opposition, the framework of modern society. 
+
+Capital may be fixed in the land, incorporated in it either in a transitory manner, as through 
+improvements of a chemical nature, fertilisation, etc., or more permanently, as in drainage canals, 
+irrigation works, leveling, farm buildings, etc. Elsewhere I have called the capital thus applied to land la 
+terre-capital. \2%~\ It belongs to the category of fixed capital. The interest on capital incorporated in the 
+land and the improvements thus made in it as an instrument of production can constitute a part of the rent 
+paid by the capitalist farmer to the landowner, f291 but it does not constitute the actual ground-rent, 
+which is paid for the use of the land as such — be it in a natural or cultivated state. In a systematic 
+treatment of landed property, which is not within our scope, this part of the landowner's revenue would 
+have to be discussed at length. But a few words about it will suffice here. The more transitory capital 
+investments, which accompany the ordinary production processes in agriculture, are all made without 
+exception by the capitalist farmer. These investments, like cultivation proper in general, improve the 
+land J301 increase its output, and transform the land from mere material into land-capital when the 
+cultivation is carried on more or less rationally, i.e., when it is not reduced to a brutal spoliation of the 
+soil, as was in vogue, e.g., among the former slave-holders in the United States; however, the gentlemen 
+landowners secure themselves against such practice by contract. A cultivated field is worth more than an 
+uncultivated one of the same natural quality. The more permanent fixed capital investments, which are 
+incorporated in the soil and used up in a longer period of time, are also in the main, and in some spheres 
+often exclusively, made by the capitalist farmer. But as soon as the time stipulated by contract has 
+expired — and this is one of the reasons why with the development of capitalist production the 
+landowners seek to shorten the contract period as much as possible — the improvements incorporated in 
+the soil become the property of the landowner as an inseparable feature of the substance, the land. In the 
+new contract made by the landowner he adds the interest for capital incorporated in the land to the 
+ground-rent itself. And he does this whether he now leases the land to the capitalist farmer who made 
+these improvements or to some other farmer. His rent is thus inflated; and should he wish to sell his land 
+(we shall see immediately how its price is determined), its value is now higher. He sells not merely the 
+
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+
+land but the improved land, the capital incorporated in the land for which he paid nothing. Quite aside 
+from the movements of ground-rent itself, here lies one of the secrets of the increasing enrichment of 
+landowners, the continuous inflation of their rents, and the constantly growing money- value of their 
+estates along with progress in economic development. Thus they pocket a product of social development 
+created without their help —fruges consumere nati. [Horace, Epistles, Book I, Epistles 2, 27. — Ed]. But 
+this is at the same time one of the greatest obstacles to a rational development of agriculture, for the 
+tenant farmer avoids all improvements and outlays for which he cannot expect complete returns during 
+the term of his lease. We find this situation denounced as such an obstacle again and again, not only in 
+the 18th century by James Anderson, the actual discoverer of the modern theory of rent [On J. 
+Anderson's theory of rent see K. Marx, Theorien uber den Mehrwert (K. Marx/F. Engels, Werke, Band 
+26, 2. Teil, S. 103-05, 110-14, 134-39). — Ed.] — who was also a practical capitalist farmer and an 
+advanced agronomist for his time — but also in our own day by opponents of the present constitution of 
+landed property in England. 
+
+A.A. Walton, in his History Of the Landed Tenures of Great Britain and Ireland, London, 1865, says on 
+this score (pp.96, 97): "All the efforts of the numerous agricultural associations throughout the country 
+must fail to produce any very extensive or really appreciable results in the real advancement of 
+agricultural improvement, so long as such improvements mean in a far higher degree increased value to 
+the estate and rent-roll of the landlord, than bettering the condition of the tenant farmer or the labourer. 
+The farmers, generally, are as well aware as either the landlord or his agent, or even the president of the 
+Agricultural Association, that good drainage, plenty of manure, and good management, combined with 
+the increased employment of labour, to thoroughly cleanse and work the land, will produce wonderful 
+results both in improvement and production. To do all this, however, considerable outlay is required, and 
+the farmers are also aware, that however much they may improve the land or enhance its value, the 
+landlords will, in the long run, reap the principal benefit, in higher rents and the increased value of their 
+estates.... They are shrewd enough to observe what those orators [landowners and their agents speaking 
+at agricultural festivities], by some singular inadvertence, omit to tell them —namely, that the lion's share 
+of any improvements they may make is sure to go into the pockets of the landlords in the long run.... 
+However much the former tenant may have improved the farm, his successor will find that the landlord 
+will always increase the rent in proportion to the increased value of the land from former improvements." 
+
+In agriculture proper this process does not yet appear quite as plainly as when the land is used for 
+building purposes. By far the largest portion of land used in England for building purposes but not sold 
+as a freehold is leased by the landowners for 99 years or, if possible, for a shorter term. After the lapse of 
+this period the buildings fall into the hands of the landowner together with the land itself. "They [the 
+tenants] are bound to deliver up the house at the expiration of the lease, in good tenantable condition, to 
+the great landlord, after having paid an exorbitant ground-rent up to the expiration of the lease. No 
+sooner is the lease expired, than the agent or surveyor will come and examine your house, and see that 
+you put it into good repair, and then take possession of it, and annex it to his lord's domains.... The fact 
+is, if this system is permitted to be in full operation for any considerable period longer, the whole of the 
+house property in the kingdom will be in the hands of the great landlords, as well as the land. The whole 
+of the West End of London, north and south from Temple Bar, may be said to belong to about half a 
+dozen great landlords, all let at enormous rents, and where the leases have not quite expired they are fast 
+falling due. The same may be said either more or less of every town in the kingdom. Nor does this 
+grasping system of exclusion and monopoly stop even here. Nearly the whole of the dock 
+accommodation in our seaport towns is by the same process of usurpation in the hands of the great 
+
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+
+leviathans of the land" (I.e., pp.92-93). It is evident in these circumstances that when the census for 
+England and Wales in 1861 gives the total population as 20,066,224 and the number of landlords as 
+36,032, the proportion of owners to the number of houses and to population would look completely 
+different if the large landlords were placed on one side and the small ones on the other. 
+
+This illustration of ownership in buildings is important. In the first place, it clearly shows the difference 
+between actual ground-rent and interest on fixed capital incorporated in the land, which may constitute 
+an addition to ground-rent. Interest on buildings, like that on capital incorporated in the land by the 
+tenant in agriculture, falls into the hands of the industrial capitalist, the building speculator, or the tenant, 
+so long as the lease lasts, and has in itself nothing to do with ground-rent, which must be paid on stated 
+dates annually for the use of the land. Secondly, it shows that capital incorporated in the land by others 
+ultimately passes into the hands of the landlord together with the land, and that the interest for it inflates 
+his rent. 
+
+Some writers, acting either as spokesmen of landlordism and taking up the cudgels against the attacks of 
+bourgeois economists, or in an endeavour to transform the capitalist system of production from a system 
+of contradictions into one of "harmonies", like Carey, have tried to represent ground-rent, the specific 
+economic expression of landed property, as identical with interest. This would eliminate the opposition 
+between landlords and capitalists. The opposite method was employed in the early stages of capitalist 
+production. In those days, landed property was still regarded by popular conception as the pristine and 
+respectable form of private property, while interest on capital was decried as usury. Dudley North, Locke 
+and others, therefore, represented interest on capital as a form analogous to ground-rent, just as Turgot 
+deduced the justification for interest from the existence of ground-rent. — Aside from the fact that 
+ground-rent may, and does, exist in its pure form without any addition for interest on capital incorporated 
+in the land, those more recent writers forget that, in this way, the landlord not only receives interest on 
+other persons' capital that costs him nothing, but also pockets this capital of others without recompense. 
+The justification of landed property, like that of all other forms of property corresponding to a certain 
+mode of production, is that the mode of production itself is a transient historical necessity, and this 
+includes the relations of production and exchange which stem from it. It is true, as we shall see later, that 
+landed property differs from other kinds of property in that it appears superfluous and harmful at a 
+certain stage of development, even from the point of view of the capitalist mode of production. 
+
+Ground-rent may in another form be confused with interest and thereby its specific character overlooked. 
+Ground-rent assumes the form of a certain sum of money, which the landlord draws annually by leasing a 
+certain plot on our planet. We have seen that every particular sum of money may be capitalised, that is, 
+considered as the interest on an imaginary capital. For instance, if the average rate of interest is 5%, then 
+an annual ground-rent of £200 may be regarded as interest on a capital of £4,000. Ground-rent so 
+capitalised constitutes the purchase price or value of the land, a category which like the price of labour is 
+prima facie irrational, since the earth is not the product of labour and therefore has no value. But on the 
+other hand, a real relation in production is concealed behind this irrational form. If a capitalist buys land 
+yielding a rent of £200 annually and pays £4,000 for it, then he draws the average annual interest of 5% 
+on his capital of £4,000, just as if he had invested this capital in interest-bearing papers or loaned it 
+directly at 5% interest. It is the expansion of a capital of £4,000 at 5%. On this assumption, he would 
+recover the purchase price of his estate through its revenues in twenty years. In England, therefore, the 
+purchase price of land is calculated in so many years' purchase which is merely another way of 
+expressing the capitalisation of ground-rent. It is in fact the purchase price-not of the land, but of the 
+ground-rent yielded by it — calculated in accordance with the usual interest rate. But this capitalisation of 
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+rent assumes the existence of rent, while rent cannot inversely be derived and explained from its own 
+capitalisation. Its existence, independent of its sale, is rather the starting-point for the inquiry. 
+
+It follows, then, that the price of land may rise or fall inversely as the interest rate rises or falls if we 
+assume ground-rent to be a constant magnitude. If the ordinary interest rate should fall from 5% to 4%, 
+then the annual ground-rent of £200 would represent the annual realisation from a capital of £5,000 
+instead of £4,000. The price of the same piece of land would thus have risen from £4,000 to £5,000, or 
+from 20 years' to 25 years' purchase. The converse would take place in the opposite case. This is a 
+movement of the price of land which is independent of the movement of ground-rent itself and regulated 
+only by the interest rate. But as we have seen that the rate of profit has a tendency to fall in the course of 
+social progress, and, therefore, the interest rate has the same tendency, so far as it is regulated by the rate 
+of profit; and that, furthermore, the interest rate shows a tendency to fall in consequence of the growth of 
+loanable capital, apart from the influence of the rate of profit, it follows that the price of land has a 
+tendency to rise, even independently of the movement of ground-rent and the prices of the products of 
+the land, of which rent constitutes a part. 
+
+The confusion of ground-rent itself with the interest form which it assumes for the buyer of the land-a 
+confusion resulting from complete lack of familiarity with the nature of ground-rent must necessarily 
+lead to the most absurd conclusions. Since landed property is considered in all ancient countries as a 
+particularly genteel form of property, and its purchase also as an eminently safe capital investment, the 
+interest rate at which ground-rent is bought is generally lower than that of other long-term investments of 
+capital, so that a buyer of real estate draws, for instance, only 4% on his purchase price, whereas he 
+would draw 5% for the same capital in other investments. In other words, he pays more capital for 
+ground-rent than he would for the same annual amount of income from other investments. This leads Mr. 
+Thiers to conclude in his generally very poor work on La Propriete' (a reprint of his speech in the French 
+National Assembly in 1849 directed against Proudhon) [Proudhon's speech was published in "Compte 
+rendu des seances de VAssemble'e Nationale," Tome II, Paris, 1849, pp. 666-71. — Ed.] that ground-rent 
+is low, whereas it merely proves that its purchase price is high. 
+
+The fact that capitalised ground-rent appears as the price or value of land, so that land, therefore, is 
+bought and sold like any other commodity, serves some apologists as a justification for landed property 
+since the buyer pays an equivalent for it, the same as for other commodities; and the major portion of 
+landed property has changed hands in this way. The same reason in that case would also serve to justify 
+slavery, since the returns from the labour of the slave, whom the slave-holder has bought, merely 
+represent the interest on the capital invested in this purchase. To derive a justification for the existence of 
+ground-rent from its sale and purchase means in general to justify its existence by its existence. 
+
+As important as it may be for a scientific analysis of ground-rent-that is, the independent and specific 
+economic form of landed property on the basis of the capitalist mode of production study it in its pure 
+form free of all distorting and obfuscating irrelevancies, it is just as important for an understanding of the 
+practical effects of landed property even for a theoretical comprehension of a multitude of facts which 
+contradict the concept and nature of ground-rent and yet appear as modes of existence of ground-rent-to 
+learn the sources which give rise to such muddling in theory. 
+
+In practice, naturally, everything appears as ground-rent that is paid as lease money by tenant to landlord 
+for the right to cultivate the soil. No matter what the composition of this tribute and no matter what its 
+sources, it has this in common with the actual ground-rent-that the monopoly of the so-called landed 
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+proprietor of a portion of our planet enables him to levy such tribute and impose such an assessment. It 
+has this in common with the actual ground-rent-that it determines the price of land, which, as we have 
+indicated earlier, is nothing but the capitalised income from the lease of the land. 
+
+We have already seen that interest for the capital incorporated in the land may constitute such an 
+extraneous component of ground-rent, a component which must become a continually growing extra 
+charge on the total rent of a country as economic development progresses. But aside from this interest, it 
+is possible that the lease money may conceal in part, and in certain cases in its entirety, i.e., in complete 
+absence of the actual ground-rent when the land is, therefore, actually worthless-a deduction from the 
+average profit or from the normal wages, or both. This portion, whether of profit or wages, appears here 
+as ground-rent, because instead of falling to the industrial capitalist or the wage-worker, as would 
+normally be the case, it is paid to the landlord in the form of lease money. Economically speaking, 
+neither the one nor the other of these portions constitutes ground-rent; but, in practice, it constitutes the 
+landlord's revenue, an economic realisation of his monopoly, much as actual ground-rent, and it has just 
+as determining an influence on land prices. 
+
+We are not speaking now of conditions in which ground-rent, the manner of expressing landed property 
+in the capitalist mode of production, formally exists without the existence of the capitalist mode of 
+production itself, i.e., without the tenant himself being an industrial capitalist, nor the type of his 
+management being a capitalist one. Such is the case, e.g., in Ireland. The tenant there is generally a small 
+farmer. What he pays to the landlord in the form of rent frequently absorbs not merely a part of his profit, 
+that is, his own surplus labour (to which he is entitled as possessor of his own instruments of labour), but 
+also a part of his normal wage, which he would otherwise receive for the same amount of labour. 
+Besides, the landlord, who does nothing at all for the improvement of the land, also expropriates his 
+small capital, which the tenant for the most part incorporates in the land through his own labour. This is 
+precisely what a usurer would do under similar circumstances, with just the difference that the usurer 
+would at least risk his own capital in the operation. This continual plunder is the core of the dispute over 
+the Irish Tenancy Rights Bill. The main purpose of this Bill is to compel the landlord when ordering his 
+tenant off the land to indemnify the latter for his improvements on the land, or for his capital 
+incorporated in the land. Palmerston used to wave this demand aside with the cynical answer; "The 
+House of Commons is a house of landed proprietors." 
+
+Nor are we referring to exceptional circumstances in which the landlord may enforce a high rental-even 
+in countries with capitalist production-that stands in no relation to the yield from the soil. Of such a 
+nature, for example, is the leasing of small patches of land to labourers in English factory districts, either 
+as small gardens or for amateur spare-time farming. (Reports of Inspectors of Factories.) 
+
+We are referring to ground-rent in countries with developed capitalist production. Among English 
+tenants, for instance, there are a number of small capitalists who are destined and compelled by 
+education, training, tradition, competition, and other circumstances to invest their capital as tenants in 
+agriculture. They are forced to be satisfied with less than the average profit, and to turn over part of it to 
+the landlords as rent. This is the only condition under which they are permitted to invest their capital in 
+the land, in agriculture. Since landlords everywhere exert considerable, and in England even 
+overwhelming, influence on legislation, they are able to exploit this situation for the purpose of 
+victimising the entire class of tenants. For instance, the Corn Laws of 1815 — a bread tax, admittedly 
+imposed upon the country to secure for the idle landlords a continuation of their abnormally increased 
+rentals during the anti-Jacobin war— had indeed the effect, excluding cases of a few extraordinarily rich 
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+harvests, of maintaining prices of agricultural products above the level to which they would have fallen 
+had corn imports been unrestricted. But they did not have the effect of maintaining prices at the level 
+decreed by the lawmaking landlords to serve as normal prices in such manner as to constitute the legal 
+limit for imports of foreign corn. But the leaseholds were contracted in an atmosphere created by these 
+normal prices. As soon as the illusion was dispelled, a new law was passed, containing new normal 
+prices, which were as much the impotent expression of a greedy landlord's fantasy as the old ones. In this 
+way, tenants were defrauded from 1815 up to the thirties. Hence the standing problem of agricultural 
+distress during this entire period. Hence the expropriation and the ruin of a whole generation of tenants 
+during this period and their replacement by a new class of capitalists. \3 11 
+
+A much more general and important fact, however, is the depression of the actual farm-labourer's wage 
+below its normal average, so that part of it is deducted to become part of the lease money and thus, in the 
+guise of ground-rent, it flows into the pocket of the landlord rather than the labourer. This is, for 
+example, quite generally the case in England and Scotland, with the exception of a few favourably 
+situated counties. The inquiries into the level of wages by the parliamentary investigating committees, 
+which were appointed before the passage of the Corn Laws in England-so far the most valuable and 
+almost unexploited contributions to the history of wages in the 19th century, and at the same time a 
+pillory erected for themselves by the English aristocracy and bourgeoisie-proved convincingly and 
+beyond a doubt that the high rates of rent, and the corresponding rise in land prices during the 
+anti-Jacobin war, were due in part to no other cause but deductions from wages and their depression to a 
+level that was even below the physical minimum requirement; in other words, to part of the normal wage 
+being handed over to the landlords. Various circumstances, such as the depreciation of money and the 
+manipulation of the Poor Laws in the agricultural districts, had made this operation possible at a time 
+when the incomes of the tenants were enormously increasing and the landlords were amassing fabulous 
+riches. Indeed, one of the main arguments of both tenants and landlords for the introduction of duties on 
+corn was that it was physically impossible to depress farm labourers wages any lower. This state of 
+affairs has not significantly changed, and in England, as in all European countries, a portion of the 
+normal wage is absorbed by ground-rent just as ever. When Count Shaftesbury, then Lord Ashley, one of 
+the philanthropic aristocrats, was so extraordinarily moved by the condition of English factory operatives 
+and acted as their spokesman in Parliament during the agitation for a ten-hour day, the spokesmen of the 
+industrialists took their revenge by publishing wage statistics of agricultural labourers in the villages 
+belonging to him (see Buch I, Kap. XXIII, 5, e [English edition: Ch XXV 5 e — Ed])("The British 
+Agricultural Proletariat"), which clearly showed that a portion of the ground-rent of this philanthropist 
+consisted of loot filched for him by his tenants out of the wages of agricultural labourers. This 
+publication is also interesting for the fact that its revelations may bravely take their place beside the 
+worst exposures made by the committees in 1814 and 1815. As soon as circumstances force a temporary 
+increase in the wage of agricultural labourers a cry goes up from the capitalist tenant farmers that raising 
+wages to the normal level, as done in other branches of industry, would be impossible and would ruin 
+them, unless ground-rent were reduced at the same time. Therein lies the confession that under the head 
+of ground-rent there is a deduction of the labourers' wages which is handed over to the landlords. For 
+instance, from 1849 to 1859 the wages of agricultural labourers rose in England through a combination 
+of momentous events: the exodus from Ireland, which cut off the supply of agricultural labourers coming 
+from there; an extraordinary absorption of the agricultural population by factories; a war-time demand 
+for soldiers; an exceptionally large emigration to Australia and the United States (California), and other 
+circumstances which need not be dwelt upon here. At the same time, average prices of grain fell by more 
+than 16% during this period, with the exception of the poor agricultural years 1854 to 1856. The tenant 
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+farmers clamoured for a reduction in rents. They were successful in individual cases, but on the whole 
+failed to achieve this demand. They had recourse to a reduction of production costs, among other things 
+by the mass production of steam-engines and new machinery, which to some extent replaced horses and 
+pushed them out of the economy, but also brought about, in part, an artificial over-population by 
+throwing agricultural day-labourers out of work, and thereby caused a new drop in wages. And this took 
+place in spite of the overall relative decrease in agricultural population during that decade as compared 
+with the growth of total population, and in spite of an absolute decrease in agricultural population in 
+some purely agricultural districts. [321 Thus Fawcett, then professor of political economy at Cambridge 
+[who died in 1884 while Postmaster General], stated at the Social Science Congress on October 12, 1865: 
+"The labourers were beginning to emigrate, and the farmers were already beginning to complain that they 
+would not be able to pay such high rents as they have been accustomed to pay, because labour was 
+becoming dearer in consequence of emigration." Here, then, high ground-rent is directly identified with 
+low wages. And in so far as the level of land prices is determined by this circumstance-increasing rent-a 
+rise in the value of land is identical with a depreciation of labour, the high price of land is identical with 
+the low price of labour. 
+
+The same is true of France. "The rental rises because the prices of bread, wine, meat, vegetables and fruit 
+rise, on the one hand, while, on the other hand, the price of labour remains unchanged. If the older people 
+examine the accounts of their fathers, taking us back about 100 years, they will find that the price of a 
+day's labour in rural France was the same as it is now. The price of meat has trebled since then.... Who is 
+the victim of this revolution? Is it the rich man, who is the proprietor of an estate, or the poor man who 
+works it?... The increase in rental is evidence of a public disaster." (Du Mecanisime de la Societe en 
+France et en Angleterre, by M. Rubichon, 2nd ed., Paris, 1837, p. 101.) 
+
+Illustrations of rent representing deductions, on the one hand, from average profit and, on the other, from 
+average wages: 
+
+Morton, [Here Marx quotes John Lockart Morton. — Ed.] real estate agent and agricultural mechanic who 
+was previously quoted, states that it has been observed in many localities that rent for large estates is 
+lower than for small ones because "the competition is usually greater for the latter than for the former, 
+and as few small farmers are able to turn their attention to any other business than that of farming, their 
+anxiety to get a suitable occupation leads them in many instances to give more rent than their judgement 
+can approve of. " (John L. Morton, The Resources of Estates, London, 1858, p. 116.) 
+
+However, this difference is supposed to be gradually disappearing in England; this he attributes largely to 
+the emigration precisely of the class of small tenants. The same Morton illustrates with an example in 
+which clearly the wage of the tenant himself, and even more surely that of his labourers, suffers a 
+deduction for ground-rent. This takes place in the case of leaseholds with less than 70 to 80 acres (30-34 
+ha.) where a two-horse plough cannot be maintained. "Unless the tenant works with his own hands as 
+laboriously as any labourer, his farm will not keep him. If he entrusts the performance of his work to 
+workmen while he continues merely to observe them, the chances are, that at no distant period, he will 
+find he is unable to pay his rent" (I.e., p. 148). Morton concludes, therefore, that unless the tenants of a 
+certain locality are very poor, the leaseholds should not be smaller than 70 acres, so that the tenants may 
+keep two or three horses. 
+
+Extraordinary sagacity on the part of Monsieur Leonce de Lavergne, Membre de llnstitut et de la Societe 
+Centrale d' Agriculture. In his Economie Rurale de I 'Angleterre (quoted from the English translation, 
+
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+London, 1855), he makes the following comparison of the annual advantage derived from cattle which is 
+employed in France but not in England where it is replaced by horses (p.42): 
+
+FRANCE Milk £4 million ENGLAND Milk £16 million 
+
+Meat £16 million Meat £20 million 
+
+Labour £8 million Labour 
+
+TOTAL: £28 million TOTAL: £30 million 
+
+But the greater total for England is obtained here because according to his own testimony milk is twice as 
+expensive in England as in France whereas he assumes the same prices for meat in both countries (p. 35); 
+therefore, English milk production shrinks to £8 million and the total to £28 million, which is the same as 
+in France. It is indeed rather too much when Mr. Lavergne allows the quantities and price differences to 
+enter simultaneously into his calculations so that when England produces certain articles more dearly 
+than France — this appears to be an advantage of English agriculture, whereas at best it signifies a larger 
+profit for the tenants and landlords. 
+
+That Mr. Lavergne is not only familiar with the economic achievements of English agriculture, but also 
+subscribes to the prejudices of the English tenants and landlords, is shown on page 48: "One great 
+drawback attends cereals generally... they exhaust the soil which bears them." Not only does Mr. 
+Lavergne believe that other plants do not do so, but also believes that fodder crops and root crops enrich 
+the soil: "Forage plants derive from the atmosphere the principal elements of their growth, while they 
+give to the soil more than they take from it; thus both directly and by their conversion into animal 
+manure contributing in two ways to repair the mischief done by cereals and exhausting crops generally; 
+one principle, therefore, is that they should at least alternate with these crops; in this consists the Norfolk 
+rotation" (pp. 50, 51). 
+
+No wonder that Mr. Lavergne, who believes these English rustic fairy-tales, also believes that the wages 
+of English farm labourers have lost their former abnormality since the duties on corn have been lifted. 
+(See what has been previously said on this point. Buch I, Kap. XXIII, 5, pp.704 to 729. [English edition: 
+Ch. XXV, 5, pp. 673-96. — Ed.] But let us also listen to Mr. John Bright's speech in Birmingham, 
+December 14, 1865. After mentioning the 5 million families entirely unrepresented in Parliament, he 
+continues: "There is among them one million, or rather more than one million, in the United Kingdom 
+who are classed in the unfortunate list of paupers. There is another million just above pauperism, but 
+always in peril lest they should become paupers. Their condition and prospects are not more favourable 
+than that. Now look at the ignorant and lower strata of this portion of the community. Look to their abject 
+condition, to their poverty, to their suffering, to their utter hopelessness of any good. Why, in the United 
+States — even in the Southern States during the reign of slavery every Negro had an idea that there was a 
+day of jubilee for him. But to these people-to this class of the lowest strata in this country — I am here to 
+state that there is neither the belief of anything better nor scarcely an aspiration after it. Have you read a 
+paragraph which lately appeared in the newspapers about John Cross, a Dorsetshire labourer? He worked 
+six days in the week, had an excellent character from his employer for whom he had worked twenty-four 
+years at the rate of eight shillings per week. John Cross had a family of seven children to provide for out 
+of these wages in his hovel — for a feeble wife and an infant child. He took — legally, I believe he stole — 
+a wooden hurdle of the value of sixpence. For this offence he was tried before the magistrates and 
+sentenced to 14 or 20 days' imprisonment.... I can tell you that many thousands of cases like that of John 
+Cross are to be found throughout the country, and especially in the south, and that their condition is such 
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+that hitherto the most anxious investigator has been unable to solve the mystery as to how they keep body 
+and soul together. Now cast your eye over the country and look at these five million of families and the 
+desperate condition of this strata of them. Is it not true that the unenfranchised nation may be said to toil 
+and toil and knowing almost no rest? Compare it with the ruling class — but if I do I shall be charged 
+with communism.... But compare this great toiling and unenfranchised nation with the section who may 
+be considered the governing classes. Look at its wealth; look at its ostentation-look at its luxury. Behold 
+its weariness-for there is weariness amongst them, but it is the weariness of satiety-and see how they rush 
+from place to place, as it were, to discover some new pleasure." (Morning Star, December 14, 1865.) 
+
+It is shown in what follows how surplus-labour, and consequently surplus-product, is generally confused 
+with ground-rent that qualitatively and quantitatively specifically determined, at least on the basis of the 
+capitalist mode of production, part of the surplus-product. The natural basis of surplus-labour in general, 
+that is, a natural prerequisite without which such labour cannot be performed, is that Nature must 
+supply-in the form of animal or vegetable products of the land, in fisheries, etc. the necessary means of 
+subsistence under conditions of an expenditure of labour which does not consume the entire working day. 
+This natural productivity of agricultural labour (which includes here the labour of simple gathering, 
+hunting, fishing and cattle-raising) is the basis of all surplus-labour, as all labour is primarily and initially 
+directed toward the appropriation and production of food. (Animals also supply at the same time skins 
+for warmth in colder climates; also cave-dwellings, etc.) 
+
+The same confusion between surplus-product and ground-rent is found differently expressed by Mr. 
+Dove. [P. Dove, The Elements of Political Science, Edinburgh, 1854, pp.264, 273. — Ed.] Originally 
+agricultural and industrial labour were not separated; the latter was an adjunct of the former. The 
+surplus-labour and the surplus-product of the land-cultivating tribe, house commune, or family included 
+both agricultural and industrial labour. Both went hand in hand. Hunting, fishing and agriculture were 
+impossible without suitable tools. Weaving, spinning, etc., were first carried on as an agrarian side line. 
+
+We have previously shown that just as the labour of an individual workman breaks up into necessary and 
+surplus Labour, the aggregate labour of the working-class may be so divided that the portion which 
+produces the total means of subsistence for the working-class (including the means of production 
+required for this purpose) performs the necessary labour for the whole of society. The labour performed 
+by the remainder of the working-class may then be regarded as surplus labour. But the necessary labour 
+consists by no means only of agricultural labour, but also of that labour which produces all other 
+products necessarily included in the average consumption of the labourer. Furthermore, from the social 
+standpoint, some perform only necessary labour because others perform only surplus labour, and vice 
+versa. It is but a division of labour between them. The same holds for the division of labour between 
+agricultural and industrial labourers in general. The purely industrial character of labour, on the one 
+hand, corresponds to the purely agricultural character on the other. This purely agricultural labour is by 
+no means natural, but is rather a product-and a very modern one at that, which has not yet been achieved 
+everywhere-of social development and corresponds to a very definite stage of the development of 
+production. Just as a portion of agricultural labour is materialised in products which either minister only 
+to luxury or serve as raw materials in industry, but by no means serve as food, let alone as food for the 
+masses, so on the other hand a portion of industrial labour is materialised in products which serve as 
+necessary means of consumption for both agricultural and nonagricultural labourers. It is a mistake, from 
+a social point of view, to regard this industrial labour as surplus-labour. It is, in part, as much necessary 
+labour as the necessary portion of the agricultural labour. It is also but a form rendered independent of a 
+part of industrial labour which was formerly naturally connected with agricultural labour, a necessary 
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+mutual supplement to the specifically agricultural labour now separated from it. (From a purely material 
+point of view, 500 mechanical weavers, e.g., produce surplus-fabrics to a far greater degree, that is, more 
+than is required for their own clothing.) 
+
+Finally, it should be borne in mind in considering the various forms of manifestation of ground-rent, that 
+is, the lease money paid under the heading of ground-rent to the landlord for the use of the land for 
+purposes of production or consumption, that the price of things which have in themselves no value, i.e., 
+are not the product of labour, such as land, or which at least cannot be reproduced by labour, such as 
+antiques and works of art by certain masters, etc., may be determined by many fortuitous combinations. 
+In order to sell a thing, nothing more is required than its capacity to be monopolised and alienated. 
+
+There are three main errors to be avoided in studying groundrent, and which obscure its analysis. 
+
+1) Confusing the various forms of rent pertaining to different stages of development of the social 
+production process. 
+
+Whatever the specific form of rent may be, all types have this in common: the appropriation of rent is 
+that economic form in which landed property is realised, and ground-rent, in turn, presupposes the 
+existence of landed property, the ownership of certain portions of our planet by certain individuals. The 
+owner may be an individual representing the community, as in Asia, Egypt, etc.; or this landed property 
+may be merely incidental to the ownership of the immediate producers themselves by some individual as 
+under slavery or serfdom; or it may be a purely private ownership of Nature by non-producers, a mere 
+title to land; or, finally, it may be a relationship to the land which, as in the case of colonists and small 
+peasants owning land, seems to be directly included-in the isolated and not socially developed labour-in 
+the appropriation and production of the products of particular plots of land by the direct producers. 
+
+This common element in the various forms of rent, namely that of being the economic realisation of 
+landed property, of legal fiction by grace of which certain individuals have an exclusive right to certain 
+parts of our planet-makes it possible for the differences to escape detection. 
+
+2) All ground-rent is surplus-value, the product of surplus-labour. In its undeveloped form as rent in kind 
+it is still directly the surplus-product itself. Hence, the mistaken idea that the rent corresponding to the 
+capitalist mode of production-which is always a surplus over and above profit, i.e., above a value portion 
+of commodities which itself consists of surplus-value (surplus-labour) — that this special and specific 
+component of surplus-value is explained by merely explaining the general conditions for the existence of 
+surplus-value and profit in general. These conditions are: the direct producers must work beyond the time 
+necessary for reproducing their own labour-power, for their own reproduction. They must perform 
+surplus-labour in general. This is the subjective condition. The objective condition is that they must be 
+able to perform surplus-labour. The natural conditions must be such that a part of their available 
+labourtime suffices for their reproduction and self-maintenance as producers, that the production of their 
+necessary means of subsistence shall not consume their whole labour-power. The fertility of Nature 
+establishes a limit here, a starting-point, a basis. On the other hand, the development of the social 
+productive power of their labour forms the other limit. Examined more closely, since the production of 
+means of subsistence is the very first condition of their existence and of all production in general, labour 
+used in this production, that is, agricultural labour in the broadest economic sense, must be fruitful 
+enough so as not to absorb the entire available labour-time in the production of means of subsistence for 
+the direct producers, that is, agricultural surplus-labour and therefore agricultural surplus-product must 
+be possible. Developed further, the total agricultural labour, both necessary and surplus labour, of a 
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+segment of society must suffice to produce the necessary subsistence for the whole of society, that is, for 
+non-agricultural labourers too. This means therefore that the major division of labour between 
+agricultural and industrial must be possible; and similarly between tillers of the soil producing means of 
+subsistence and those producing raw materials. Although the labour of the direct producers of means of 
+subsistence breaks up into necessary and surplus labour as far as they themselves are concerned, it 
+represents from the social standpoint only the necessary labour required to produce the means of 
+subsistence. Incidentally, the same is true for all division of labour within society as a whole, as distinct 
+from the division of labour within individual workshops. It is the labour necessary for the production of 
+particular articles, for the satisfaction of some particular need of society for these particular articles. If 
+this division is proportional, then the products of various groups are sold at their values (at a later stage 
+of development they are sold at their prices of production), or at prices which are certain modifications of 
+these values or prices of production determined by general laws. It is indeed the effect of the law of 
+value, not with reference to individual commodities or articles, but to each total product of the particular 
+social spheres of production made independent by the division of labour; so that not only is no more than 
+the necessary labour-time used up for each specific commodity, but only the necessary proportional 
+quantity of the total social labour-time is used up in the various groups. For the condition remains that 
+the commodity represents use value. But if the use-value of individual commodities depends on whether 
+they satisfy a particular need then the use-value of the mass of the social product depends on whether it 
+satisfies the quantitatively definite social need for each particular kind of product in an adequate manner, 
+and whether the labour is therefore proportionately distributed among the different spheres in keeping 
+with these social needs, which are quantitatively circumscribed. (This point is to be noted in the 
+distribution of capital among the various spheres of production.) The social need, that is, the use-value on 
+a social scale, appears here as a determining factor for the amount of total social labour-time which is 
+expended in various specific spheres of production. But it is merely the same law which is already 
+applied in the case of single commodities, namely, that the use-value of a commodity is the basis of its 
+exchange- value and thus of its value. This point has a bearing upon the relationship between necessary 
+and surplus labour only in so far as a violation of this proportion makes it impossible to realise the value 
+of the commodity and thus the surplus-value contained in it. For instance; let us assume that 
+proportionally too much cotton goods have been produced, although only the labour-time necessary 
+under the prevailing conditions is incorporated in this total cloth production. But in general too much 
+social labour has been expended in this particular line; ill other words, a portion of this product is useless. 
+It is therefore sold solely as if it had been produced in the necessary proportion. This quantitative limit to 
+the quota of social labourtime available for the various particular spheres of production is but a more 
+developed expression of the law of value in general, although the necessary labour-time assumes a 
+different meaning here. Only just so much of it is required for the satisfaction of social needs. The 
+limitation occurring here is due to the use value. Society can use only so much of its total labour-time for 
+this particular kind of product under prevailing conditions of production. But the subjective and objective 
+conditions of surplus labour and surplus-value in general have nothing to do with the particular form of 
+either the profit or the rent. These conditions apply to surplus-value as such, no matter what special form 
+it may assume. Hence they do not explain groundrent. 
+
+3) It is precisely in the economic realisation of landed property, in the development of ground-rent, that 
+the following characteristic peculiarity comes to the fore, namely that its amount is by no means 
+determined by the actions of its recipient, but is determined rather by the independent development of 
+social labour in which the recipient takes no part. It may easily happen, therefore, that something is 
+regarded as a peculiarity of rent (and of the products of agriculture in general), which is really a common 
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+feature of all branches of production and all their products where the basis is commodity-production-and, 
+in particular, capitalist production, which is in its entirety commodity production. 
+
+The amount of ground-rent (and with it the value of land) grows with social development as a result of 
+the total social labour. On the one hand, this leads to an expansion of the market and of the demand for 
+products of the soil, and, on the other, it stimulates the demand for land itself, which is a prerequisite of 
+competitive production in all lines of business activity, even those which are not agricultural. More 
+exactly-if one considers only the actual agricultural rent-rent, and thereby the value of the land, develops 
+with the market for the products of the soil, and thus with the increase in the non-agricultural population, 
+with its need and demand for means of subsistence and raw materials. It is in the nature of capitalist 
+production to continually reduce the agricultural population as compared with the non-agricultural, 
+because in industry (in the strict sense) the increase of constant capital in relation to variable capital goes 
+hand in hand with an absolute increase, though relative decrease, in variable capital; on the other hand, in 
+agriculture the variable capital required for the exploitation of a certain plot of land decreases absolutely; 
+it can thus only increase to the extent that new land is taken into cultivation, but this again requires as a 
+prerequisite a still greater growth of the non-agricultural population. 
+
+In fact, we are not dealing here with a characteristic peculiarity of agriculture and its products. On the 
+contrary, the same applies to all other branches of production and products where the basis is 
+commodity-production and its absolute form, capitalist production. 
+
+These products are commodities, or use-values, which have an exchange-value that is to be realised, to 
+be converted into money, only in so far as other commodities form an equivalent for them, that is, other 
+products confront them as commodities and values; thus, in so far as they are not produced as immediate 
+means of subsistence for the producers themselves, but as commodities, as products which become 
+use-values only by their transformation into exchange-values (money), by their alienation. The market 
+for these commodities develops through the social division of labour; the division of productive labours 
+mutually transforms their respective products into commodities, into equivalents for each other, making 
+them mutually serve as markets. This is in no way peculiar to agricultural products. 
+
+Rent can develop as money-rent only on the basis of commodity production, in particular capitalist 
+production, and it develops to the same extent that agricultural production becomes commodity 
+production, that is, to the same extent that non-agricultural production develops independently of 
+agricultural production, for to that degree the agricultural product becomes commodity, exchange-value, 
+and value. In so far as commodity-production and thus the production of value develops with capitalist 
+production so does the production of surplus-value and surplus product. But in the same proportion as the 
+latter develops, landed property acquires the capacity of capturing an ever-increasing portion of this 
+surplus-value by means of its land monopoly and thereby, of raising the value of its rent and the price of 
+the land itself. The capitalist still performs an active function in the development of this surplus-value 
+and surplus-product. But the landowner need only appropriate the growing share in the surplus-product 
+and the surplus-value, without having contributed anything to this growth. This is the characteristic 
+peculiarity of his position, and not the fact that the value of the products of the land, and thus of the land 
+itself, increases to the degree that the market for them expands, the demand grows and with it the world 
+of commodities which confronts the products of the land-in other words, the mass of non-agricultural 
+commodity producers and non-agricultural commodity-production. But since this takes place without any 
+action on his part, it appears to him as something unique that the mass of value, the mass of 
+surplus-value, and the transformation of a portion of surplus value into ground-rent should depend upon 
+
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+
+the social production process, on the development of commodity-production in general. For this reason, 
+Dove, for instance, tries to evolve rent from this. He says that rent does not depend upon the mass of the 
+agricultural product, but upon its value, [P. Dove, The Elements of Political Science, Edinburgh, 1854, 
+p. 279. -- Ed.] however, this depends upon the mass and productivity of the non-agricultural population. 
+But it is also true of every other product that it can only develop as a commodity partly as the mass and 
+partly as the variety of other commodities which form equivalents for its increase. This has already been 
+demonstrated in connection with the general presentation of value. [English edition: Vol. I, p. 88. -- Ed.] 
+On the one hand, the exchangeability of a product in general depends on the multiplicity of commodities 
+existing in addition to it. On the other hand, on it depends in particular the quantity in which this product 
+can be produced as a commodity. 
+
+No producer, whether industrial or agricultural, when considered by himself alone, produces value or 
+commodities. His product becomes a value and a commodity only in the context of definite social 
+interrelations. In the first place, in so far as it appears as the expression of social labour, hence in so far as 
+the individual producer's labour-time counts as a part of the social labour-time in general; and, secondly, 
+this social character of his labour appears impressed upon his product through its pecuniary character and 
+through its general exchangeability determined by its price. 
+
+Therefore, if, on the one hand, surplus-value or, still more narrowly, the surplus-product in general is 
+explained instead of rent, the mistake is made, on the other hand, of ascribing exclusively to agricultural 
+products a characteristic which belongs to all products in their capacity as commodities and values. This 
+is vulgarised still more by those who pass from the general determination of value over to the realisation 
+of the value of a specific commodity. Every commodity can realise its value only in the process of 
+circulation, and whether it realises its value, or to what extent it does so, depends on prevailing market 
+conditions. 
+
+It is not a singularity of ground-rent, then, that agricultural products develop into, and as, values, i.e., that 
+they confront other commodities as commodities, and that non-agricultural products confront them as 
+commodities; or that they develop as specific expressions of social labour. The singularity of ground-rent 
+is rather that together with the conditions in which agricultural products develop as values 
+(commodities), and together with the conditions in which their values are realised, there also grows the 
+power of landed property to appropriate an increasing portion of these values, which were created 
+without its assistance; and so an increasing portion of surplus-value is transformed into ground-rent. 
+
+Footnotes 
+
+f261 Nothing could he more comical than Hegel's development of private landed property. According to 
+this, man as an individual must endow his will with reality as the soul of external nature, and must 
+therefore take possession of this nature and make it his private property. If this were the destiny of the 
+"individual," of man as an individual, it would follow that every human being must be a landowner, in 
+order to become a real individual. Free private ownership of land, a very recent product, is according to 
+Hegel, not a definite social relation, but a relation of man as an individual to "nature," an absolute right 
+of man to appropriate all things (Hegel Philosophic des Rechts, Berlin 1840 p 79) This much at least is 
+evident the individual cannot maintain himself as a landowner by his mere "will" against the will of 
+another individual, who likewise wants to become a real individual by virtue of the same strip of land It 
+definitely requires some thing other than goodwill Furthermore, it is absolutely impossible to determine 
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+where the "individual draws the line for realising his will whether this will requires for its realisation a 
+whole country, or whether it requires a whole group of countries by whose appropriation "the supremacy 
+of my will over the thing can be manifested." Here Hegel comes to a complete impasse. "The 
+appropriation is of a very particular kind; I do not take possession of more than I touch with my body; 
+but it is clear, on the other hand, that external things are more extensive than I can grasp. By thus having 
+possession of such a thing, some other is thereby connected to it. I carry out the act of appropriation by 
+means of my hand, but its scope can be extended" (p.90). But this other thing is again linked with still 
+another and so the boundary within which my will, as the soul, can pour into the' soil, disappears. "When 
+I possess something, my mind at once passes over to the idea that not only this property in my immediate 
+possession, but what is associated with it is also mine. Here positive right must decide, for nothing more 
+can be deduced from the concept" (p. 91). This is an extraordinarily naive admission "of the concept, and 
+proves that this concept which makes the blunder at the very outset of regarding as absolute a very 
+definite legal view of landed property belonging to bourgeois society-understands nothing" of the actual 
+nature of this landed property. This contains at the same time the admission that "positive right" can, and 
+must, alter its determinations as the requirements of social, i.e., economic, development change. 
+
+\21] Very conservative agricultural chemists, such as Johnston, admit that a really rational agriculture is 
+confronted everywhere with insurmountable barriers stemming from private property. So do writers who 
+are ex-professo advocates of the monopoly of private property in the world, for instance, Charles Comte 
+in his two-volume work, which has as its special aim the defence of private property. "A nation," he says, 
+"cannot attain to the degree of prosperity and power compatible with its nature, unless every portion of 
+the soil nourishing it is assigned to that purpose which agrees best with the general interest. In order to 
+give to its wealth a strong development, one sole and above all highly enlightened will should, if 
+possible, take it upon itself to assign each piece of its domain its task and make every piece contribute to 
+the prosperity of all others. But the existence of such a will... would be incompatible with the division of 
+the land into private plots — and with the authority guaranteed each owner to dispose of his property in 
+an almost absolute manner. ["Traite de la propriete," Tome I, Paris, 1834, p. 228. — Ed.] Johnston, 
+Comte, and others, only have in mind the necessity of tilling the land of a certain country as a whole, 
+when they speak of a contradiction between property and a rational system of agronomy. But the 
+dependence of the cultivation of particular agricultural products upon the fluctuations of market-prices, 
+and the continual changes in this cultivation with these price fluctuations-the whole spirit of capitalist 
+production, which is directed toward the immediate gain of money are in contradiction to agriculture, 
+which has to minister to the entire range of permanent necessities of life required by the chain of 
+successive generations. A striking illustration of this is furnished by the forests, which are only rarely 
+managed in a way more or less corresponding to the interests of society as a whole, i.e., when they are 
+not private property, but subject to the control of the state. 
+
+\2S]M isere de la Philosophie, p. 165. There I have made a distinction between terre-matiere and 
+terre-capital. "The mere application of further outlays of capital to land already transformed into means 
+of production increases land as capital without adding anything to land as matter, that is, to the extent of 
+the land.... Land as capital is no more eternal than any other capital.... Land as capital is fixed capital; but 
+fixed capital gets used up just as much as circulating capital." 
+
+f291 1 say "can" because under certain circumstances this interest is regulated by the law of ground-rent 
+and, therefore, can disappear, as in the case of competition between virgin lands of great natural fertility. 
+
+r301 See James Anderson [A Calm Investigation of the Circumstances that have led to the Present 
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+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Chapter 37 
+
+Scarcity of Grain in Britain, London, 1801, pp. 35-36, 38. — Ed.] and Carey, The Past, the Present, and 
+the Future, Philadelphia, 1848, pp. 129-31. — Ed. 
+
+f3 11 See the Anti-Corn Law Prize-Essays. However, the Corn Laws always kept prices at an artificially 
+higher level. For the better placed tenants this was favourable. They profited from the passivity in which 
+the protective duties kept the great mass of tenants who relied, with or without good reason, on the 
+exceptional average price. 
+
+f321 John C. Morton, The Forces Used in Agriculture. Lecture in the London Society of Arts, 1860, 
+based upon authentic documents collected from about 100 tenants in 12 Scottish and 35 English counties. 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 38 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Ch. 38 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+Capital Vol. Three 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+II 
+
+
+
+Part VI 
+
+TRANSFORMATION OF SURPLUS-PROFIT INTO GROUND-RENT 
+
+
+
+Chapter 38 
+
+Differential Rent: General Remarks 
+
+
+
+In the analysis of ground-rent we shall begin with the assumption that products paying such a rent, 
+products in which a portion of the surplus-value, and therefore also a portion of the total price, resolves 
+itself into ground-rent, i.e., that agricultural as well as mining products are sold at their prices of 
+production like all other commodities. (It suffices for our purposes to confine ourselves to agricultural 
+and mining products.) In other words, their selling prices are made up of the elements of their cost (the 
+value of consumed constant and variable capital) plus a profit determined by the general rate of profit 
+and calculated on the total advanced capital, whether consumed or not. We assume, then, that average 
+selling prices of these products are equal to their prices of production. The question now arises how it is 
+possible for ground- rent to develop under these conditions, i.e., how it is possible for a portion of the 
+profit to become transformed into ground-rent, so that a portion of the commodity-price falls to the 
+landlord. 
+
+In order to demonstrate the general character of this form of ground-rent, let us assume that most of the 
+factories of a certain country derive their power from steam-engines, while a smaller number derive it 
+from natural waterfalls. Let us further assume that the price of production in the former amounts to 1 15 
+for a quantity of commodities which have consumed a capital of 100. The 15% profit is calculated not 
+solely on the consumed capital of 100, but on the total capital employed in the production of this 
+commodity- value. We have previously shown that this price of production is not determined by the 
+individual cost-price of every single industrial producer, but by the average cost-price of the commodity 
+under average conditions of capital in the entire sphere of production. It is, in fact, the market-price of 
+production, the average market-price as distinct from its oscillations. It is in general in the form of the 
+market-price, and, furthermore, in the form of the regulating market-price, or market-price of production, 
+that the nature of the value of commodities asserts itself, its determination not by the labour-time 
+necessary in the case of any individual producer for the production of a certain quantity of commodities, 
+or of some individual commodity, but by the socially necessary labour-time; that is, by the labour-time, 
+required for the production of the socially necessary total quantity of commodity varieties on the market 
+under the existing average conditions of social production 
+
+As definite figures are immaterial in this case, we shall assume furthermore that the cost-price in 
+
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+factories run on water-power is only 90 instead of 100. Since the regulating market-price of production 
+of this quantity of commodities = 1 15, with a profit of 15%, the manufacturers who operate their 
+machines on water power will also sell their commodities at 115, i.e., the average price regulating the 
+market-price. Their profit would then be 25 instead of 15; the regulating price of production would allow 
+them a surplus-profit of 10% not because they sell their commodities above the price of production, but 
+because they sell them at the price of production, because their commodities are produced, or their 
+capital operates, under exceptionally favourable conditions, i.e., under conditions which are more 
+favourable than the average prevailing in this sphere. 
+
+Two things become evident at once: 
+
+First, the surplus-profit of the producers who use a natural waterfall as motive power is to begin with in 
+the same class with all surplus-profit (and we have already analysed this category when discussing prices 
+of production) which is not the fortuitous result of transactions in the circulation process, of the 
+fortuitous fluctuations in market-prices. This surplus-profit, then, is likewise equal to the difference 
+between the individual price of production of these favoured producers and the general social price of 
+production regulating the market in this entire production sphere. This difference is equal to the excess of 
+the general price of production of the commodities over their individual price of production. The two 
+regulating limits of this excess are, on the one hand, the individual cost-price, and thus the individual 
+price of production, and, on the other hand, the general price of production. The value of commodities 
+produced with water-power is smaller because a smaller total quantity of labour is required for their 
+production, i.e., less labour-in materialised form-enters into the constant capital as part of the latter. 
+
+The labour employed here is more productive, its individual productive power is greater than that 
+employed in the majority of factories of the same kind. Its greater productive power is shown in the fact 
+that in order to produce the same quantity of commodities, it requires a smaller quantity of constant 
+capital, a smaller quantity of materialised labour, than the others. It also requires less living labour, 
+because the water-wheel need not be heated. This greater individual productiveness of employed labour 
+reduces the value, but also the cost-price and thereby the price of production of the commodity. For the 
+individual industrial capitalist this expresses itself in a lower cost-price for his commodities. He has to 
+pay for less materialised labour, and also less wages for less living labour-power employed. Since the 
+cost-price of his commodities is lower, his individual price of production is also lower. His cost-price is 
+90 instead of 100. His individual price of production would therefore be only 103 1/2 instead of 1 15 
+(100:115 = 90:103 1/2) The difference between his individual price of production and the general price of 
+production is limited by the difference between his individual cost- price and the general cost-price. This 
+is one of the magnitudes which form the limits to his surplus-profit. The other is the magnitude of the 
+general price of production into which the general rate of profit enters as one of the regulating factors. 
+Were coal to become cheaper, the difference between his individual cost-price and the general cost-price 
+would decrease, and with it his surplus-profit. Should he be compelled to sell his commodities at their 
+individual value, or at the price of production determined by their individual value, then the difference 
+would disappear. It is, on the one hand, a result of the fact that the commodities are sold at their general 
+market-price, the price brought about by the equalisation of individual prices through competition, and, 
+on the other, a result of the fact that the greater individual productivity of labour set in motion by him 
+does not benefit the labourer, but the employer, as does all productivity of labour, that it appears as the 
+productiveness of capital. 
+
+Since the level of the general price of production is one of the limits of this surplus-profit, the level of the 
+
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+general rate of profit being one of its factors, this surplus-profit can only arise from the difference 
+between the general and the individual price of production, and consequently from the difference 
+between the general and the individual rate of profit. An excess above this difference presupposes the 
+sale of products above, not at, the price of production regulated by the market. 
+
+Secondly, thus far, the surplus-profit of the manufacturer using natural water-power instead of steam does 
+not differ in any way from any other surplus-profit. All normal surplus-profit, that is, all surplus-profit 
+not due to fortuitous sales or market-price fluctuations is determined by the difference between the 
+individual price of production of the commodities of a particular capital and the general price of 
+production, which regulates the market-prices of the commodities produced by the capital in this sphere 
+of production in general, or, in other words, the market-prices of commodities of the total capital 
+invested in this sphere of production. 
+
+But now we come to the difference. 
+
+To what circumstance does the industrial capitalist in the present case owe his surplus-profit, the surplus 
+resulting for him personally from the price of production regulated by the general rate of profit? 
+
+He owes it in the first instance to a natural force-the motive power of the waterfall- which is found readily 
+available in Nature and is not itself a product of labour like the coal which transforms water into steam. 
+The coal, therefore, has value, must be paid for by an equivalent, and has a cost. The waterfall is a 
+natural production agent in the production of which no labour enters. 
+
+But this is not all. The manufacturer who operates with steam also employs natural forces which cost him 
+nothing yet make the labour more productive and increase the surplus-value and thereby the profit, 
+inasmuch as they thus cheapen the manufacture of the means of subsistence required for the labourers. 
+These natural forces are thus quite as much monopolised by capital as the social natural forces of labour 
+arising from co-operation, division of labour, etc. The manufacturer pays for coal, but not for the 
+capacity of water to alter its physical state, to turn into steam, not for the elasticity of the steam, etc. This 
+monopolisation of natural forces, that is, of the increase in labour-power produced by them, is common 
+to all capital operating with steam-engines. It may increase that portion of the product of labour which 
+represents surplus-value in relation to that portion which is transformed into wages. In so far as it does 
+this, it raises the general rate of profit, but it does not create any surplus- profit, for this consists of the 
+excess of individual profit over average profit. The fact that the application of a natural force, a waterfall, 
+creates surplus-profit in this case, cannot therefore be due solely to the circumstance that the increased 
+productivity of labour here results from the application of a natural force. Other modifying circumstances 
+are necessary. 
+
+Conversely. The mere application of natural forces in industry may influence the level of the general rate 
+of profit because it affects the quantity of labour required to produce the necessary means of subsistence. 
+But in itself it does not create any deviation from the general rate of profit, and this is precisely the point 
+in which we are interested here. Furthermore, the surplus-profit which some individual capital otherwise 
+realises in a particular sphere of production-for deviations of the rates of profit in various spheres of 
+production are continually balanced out into an average rate-is due, aside from fortuitous deviations, to a 
+reduction in cost-price, in production costs. This reduction arises either from the fact that capital is used 
+in greater than average quantities, so that faux frais of production are reduced, while the general causes 
+increasing the productiveness of labour (cooperation, division of labour, etc.) can become effective to a 
+higher degree, with more intensity, because their field of activity has become larger; or it may arise from 
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+
+the fact that, aside from the amount of functioning capital, better methods of labour, new inventions, 
+improved machinery, chemical manufacturing secrets, etc., in short, new and improved, better than 
+average means of production and methods of production are used. The reduction in cost-price and the 
+surplus-profit arising from it are here the result of the manner in which the functioning capital is 
+invested. They result either from the fact that the capital is concentrated in the hands of one person in 
+extraordinarily large quantities (a condition that is cancelled out as soon as equal magnitudes of capital 
+are used on the average), or from the fact that a certain magnitude of capital functions in a particularly 
+productive manner (a condition that disappears as soon as the exceptional method of production becomes 
+general or is surpassed by a still more developed one). 
+
+The cause of the surplus-profit, then, arises here from the capital itself (which includes the labour set in 
+motion by it) whether it be due to the greater magnitude of capital employed or to its more efficient 
+application; and, as a matter of fact, there is no particular reason why all capital in the same production 
+sphere should not be invested in the same manner. On the contrary, the competition between capitals 
+tends to cancel these differences more and more. The determination of value by the socially necessary 
+labour-time asserts itself through the cheapening of commodities and the compulsion to produce 
+commodities under the same favourable conditions. But matters are different with the surplus-profit of an 
+industrial capitalist who makes use of the waterfall. The increased productiveness of the labour used by 
+him comes neither from the capital and labour itself, nor from the mere application of some natural force 
+different from capital and labour but incorporated in the capital. It arises from the greater natural 
+productiveness of labour bound up with the application of a force of Nature, but not a force of Nature 
+that is at the command of all capital in the same sphere of production, as for example the elasticity of 
+steam. In other words, its application is not to be taken for granted whenever capital is generally invested 
+in this sphere of production. On the contrary, it is a monopolisable force of Nature which, like the 
+waterfall, is only at the command of those who have at their disposal particular portions of the earth and 
+its appurtenances. It is by no means within the power of capital to call into existence this natural premise 
+for a greater productivity of labour in the same manner as any capital may transform water into steam. It 
+is found only locally in Nature and, wherever it does not exist, it cannot be established by a definite 
+investment of capital. It is not bound to goods which labour can produce, such as machines and coal, but 
+to specific natural conditions prevailing in certain portions of land. Those manufacturers who own 
+waterfalls exclude those who do not from using this natural force, because land, and particularly land 
+endowed with water-power, is scarce. This does not prevent the amount of water-power available for 
+industrial purposes from being increased, even though the number of natural waterfalls in a given country 
+is limited. The waterfall may be harnessed by man in order to fully exploit its motive force. If such 
+exists, the water-wheel may be improved so as to make use of as much of the water-power as possible; 
+where the ordinary wheel is not suitable for the water-supply, turbines may be used, etc. The possession 
+of this natural force constitutes a monopoly in the hands of its owner; it is a condition for an increase in 
+the productiveness of the invested capital that cannot be established by the production process of the 
+capital itself; f331 this natural force, which can be monopolised in this manner, is always bound to the 
+land. Such a natural force does not belong to the general conditions of the sphere of production in 
+question, nor to those conditions of the latter which may be generally established. 
+
+Now let us assume that the waterfalls, along with the land to which they belong, are held by individuals 
+who are regarded as owners of these portions of the earth, i.e., who are landowners. These owners 
+prevent the investment of capital in the waterfalls and their exploitation by capital. They can permit or 
+forbid such utilisation. But a waterfall cannot be created by capital out of itself. Therefore, the 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch38.htm (4 of 6) [23/08/2000 16:04:18] 
+
+
+
+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Ch. 38 
+
+surplus-profit which arises from the employment of this waterfall is not due to capital, but to the 
+utilisation of a natural force which can be monopolised, and has been monopolised, by capital. Under 
+these circumstances, the surplus-profit is transformed into ground-rent, that is, it falls into possession of 
+the owner of a waterfall. If the manufacturer pays the owner of a waterfall £10 annually, then his profit is 
+£15, that is, 15% on the £100 which then make up his cost of production; and he is just as well or 
+possibly better off than all other capitalists in his sphere of production who operate with steam. It would 
+not alter matters one bit if the capitalist himself should be the owner of a waterfall. He would, in such a 
+case, pocket as before the surplus-profit of £10 in his capacity as waterfall owner, and not in his capacity 
+as capitalist; and precisely because this surplus does not stem from his capital as such, but rather from the 
+control of a limited natural force distinct from his capital which can be monopolised, is it transformed 
+into ground-rent. 
+
+First, it is evident that this rent is always a differential rent, for it does not enter as a determining factor 
+into the general production price of commodities, but rather is based on it. It invariably arises from the 
+difference between the individual production price of a particular capital having command over the 
+monopolised natural force, on the one hand, and the general production price of the total capital invested 
+in the sphere of production concerned, on the other. 
+
+Secondly, this ground-rent does not arise from the absolute increase in the productiveness of employed 
+capital, or labour appropriated by it, since this can only reduce the value of commodities; it is due to the 
+greater relative fruitfulness of specific separate capitals invested in a certain production sphere, as 
+compared with investments of capital which are excluded from these exceptional and natural conditions 
+favouring productiveness. For instance, if the use of steam should offer overwhelming advantages not 
+offered by the use of water-power, despite the fact that coal has value and the water-power has not, and if 
+these advantages more than compensated for the expense, then, the water-power would not be used and 
+could not produce any surplus-profit, and therefore could not produce any rent. 
+
+Thirdly, the natural force is not the source of surplus-profit, but only its natural basis, because this natural 
+basis permits an exceptional increase in the productiveness of labour. In the same way, use-value is in 
+general the bearer of exchange-value, but not its cause. If the same use- value could be obtained without 
+labour, it would have no exchange-value, yet it would retain, as before, the same natural usefulness as 
+use-value. On the other hand, nothing can have exchange-value unless it has use-value, i.e., unless it is a 
+natural bearer of labour. Were it not for the fact that the various values are averaged out into prices of 
+production, and the various individual prices of production into a general price of production regulating 
+the market, the mere increase in productivity of labour through utilisation of the waterfall would merely 
+lower the price of commodities produced with the aid of this waterfall, without increasing the share of 
+profit contained in these commodities. Similarly, on the other hand, this increased productivity of labour 
+itself would not be converted into surplus-value were it not for the fact that capital appropriates the 
+natural and social productivity of the labour used by it as its own. 
+
+Fourthly, the private ownership of the waterfall in itself has nothing to do with the creation of the 
+surplus-value (profit) portion, and therefore, of the price of the commodity in general, which is produced 
+by means of the waterfall. This surplus-profit would also exist if landed property did not exist; for 
+instance, if the land on which the waterfall is situated were used by the manufacturer as unclaimed land. 
+Hence landed property does not create the portion of value which is transformed into surplus-profit, but 
+merely enables the landowner, the owner of the waterfall, to coax this surplus-profit out of the pocket of 
+the manufacturer and into his own. It is not the cause of the creation of such surplus-profit, but is the 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch38.htm (5 of 6) [23/08/2000 16:04:18] 
+
+
+
+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Ch. 38 
+
+cause of its transformation into the form of ground-rent, and therefore of the appropriation of this portion 
+of the profit, or commodity-price, by the owner of the land or waterfall. 
+
+Fifthly, it is evident that the price of the waterfall, that is, the price which the landowner would receive 
+were he to sell it to a third party or even to the manufacturer himself, does not immediately enter into the 
+production price of the commodities, although it does enter into the individual cost-price of the 
+manufacturer; because the rent arises here from the price of production of similar commodities produced 
+by steam machinery, and this price is regulated independently of the waterfall. Furthermore, this price of 
+the waterfall on the whole is an irrational expression, but behind it is bidden a real economic relationship. 
+The waterfall, like land in general, and like any natural force, has no value because it does not represent 
+any materialised labour, and therefore, it has no price, which is normally no more than the expression of 
+value in money terms. Where there is no value, there is also eo ipso nothing to be expressed in money. 
+This price is nothing more than the capitalised rent. Landownership enables the landowner to appropriate 
+the difference between the individual profit and average profit. The profit thus acquired, which is 
+renewed every year, may be capitalised, and appears then as the price of the natural force itself. If the 
+surplus-profit realised by the manufacturer using the waterfall amounts to £10 per year, and the average 
+interest is 5%, then these £10 represent the annual interest on a capital of £200 and the capitalisation of 
+the annual £10 which the waterfall enables its owner to appropriate from the manufacturer, appears then 
+as the capital- value of the waterfall itself. That it is not the waterfall itself which has value, but that its 
+price is a mere reflection of the appropriated surplus-profit capitalistically calculated, becomes at once 
+evident from the fact that the price of £200 represents merely the product obtained by multiplying a 
+surplus-profit of £10 by 20 years, whereas, other conditions remaining equal, the same waterfall will 
+enable its owner to appropriate these £10 every year for an indefinite number of years -- 30 years, 100 
+years, or x years; and, whereas, on the other hand, should some new method of production not applicable 
+with water-power reduce the cost-price of commodities produced by steam machinery from £100 to £90, 
+the surplus-profit, and thereby the rent, and thus the price of the waterfall, would disappear. 
+
+Now that we have described the general concept of differential rent, we shall pass on to its consideration 
+in agriculture proper. What applies to agriculture will also apply on the whole to mining. 
+
+Footnotes 
+
+f331 Concerning extra profit, see the Inquiry [into those Principles, Respecting the Nature of Demand 
+and the Necessity of Consumption, lately advocated by Mr. Malthus, London, 1821. — Ed.] (against 
+Malthus). 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 39 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 39 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+Capital Vol. Three 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+II 
+
+
+
+Part VI 
+
+TRANSFORMATION OF SURPLUS-PROFIT INTO GROUND-RENT 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 39 
+
+
+
+First Form of Differential Rent (Differential Rent I) 
+
+
+
+Ricardo is quite right in the following observations: 
+
+"Rent is always the difference between the produce obtained by the employment of two equal quantities 
+of capital and labour" (Principles, p. 59). [He means differential rent, for he assumes that no other rent 
+but differential rent exists.] He should have added, "on equal areas of land" in so far as it is a matter of 
+ground-rent and not surplus-profit in general. 
+
+In other words, surplus-profit, if normal and not due to accidental occurrences in the circulation process, 
+is always produced as a difference between the products of two equal quantities of capital and labour, 
+and this surplus-profit is transformed into ground-rent when two equal quantities of capital and labour 
+are employed on equal areas of land with unequal results. Moreover, it is by no means absolutely 
+necessary for this surplus-profit to arise from the unequal results of equal quantities of invested capital. 
+The various investments may also employ unequal quantities of capital. Indeed, this is generally the case. 
+But equal proportions, for instance £100 of each, produce unequal results; that is, their rates of profit are 
+different. This is the general prerequisite for the existence of surplus-profit in any sphere of capital 
+investment. The second prerequisite is the transformation of this surplus-profit into the form of 
+ground-rent (of rent in general as a form distinct from profit); it must be investigated in each case when, 
+how, under what conditions this transformation takes place. 
+
+Ricardo is also right in the following observation, provided it is limited to differential rent: 
+
+"Whatever diminishes the inequality in the produce obtained on the same or on new land, tends to lower 
+rent, and whatever increases that inequality, necessarily produces an opposite effect and tends to raise it" 
+(p.74). 
+
+However, among these causes are not merely the general ones (fertility and location), but also 1) the 
+distribution of taxes, depending on whether it operates uniformly or not; the latter is always the case 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 39 
+
+when, as in England, it is not centralised and when the tax is levied on land, not on rent; 2) the 
+inequalities arising from a difference in agricultural development in different parts of the country, since 
+this line of production, owing to its traditional character, evens out with more difficulty than 
+manufacture; and 3) the inequality in distribution of capital among capitalist tenants. Since the invasion 
+of agriculture by the capitalist mode of production, transformation of independently producing peasants 
+into wage-workers, is in fact the last conquest of this mode of production, these inequalities are greater 
+here than in any other line of production. 
+
+Having made these preliminary remarks, I will first present a brief summary of the characteristic features 
+of my analysis in contradistinction to that of Ricardo, etc. 
+
+
+
+We shall first consider the unequal results of equal quantities of capital applied to different plots of land 
+of equal size; or, in the case of unequal size, results calculated on the basis of equal areas. 
+
+The two general causes of these unequal results — quite independent of capital — are: 1) Fertility. (With 
+reference to this first point, it will be necessary to discuss what is meant by natural fertility of land and 
+what factors are involved.) 2) The location of the land. This is a decisive factor in the case of colonies 
+and in general determines the sequence in which plots of land can be cultivated. Furthermore, it is 
+evident that these two different causes of differential rent-fertility and location-may work in opposite 
+directions. A certain plot of land may be very favourably located and yet be very poor in fertility, and 
+vice versa. This circumstance is important, for it explains how it is possible that bringing into cultivation 
+the land of a certain country may equally well proceed from the better to the worse land as vice versa. 
+Finally, it is clear that the progress of social production in general has, on the one hand, the effect of 
+evening out differences arising from location as a cause of ground-rent, by creating local markets and 
+improving locations by establishing communication and transportation facilities; on the other hand, it 
+increases the differences in individual locations of plots of land by separating agriculture from 
+manufacturing and forming large centres of production, on the one hand, while relatively isolating 
+agricultural districts, on the other. 
+
+For the present, however, we shall leave this point concerning location out of consideration and confine 
+ourselves to natural fertility. Aside from climatic factors, etc., the difference in natural fertility depends 
+on the chemical composition of the top soil, that is, on its different plant nutrition content. However, 
+assuming the chemical composition and natural fertility in this respect to be the same for two plots of 
+land, the actual effective fertility differs depending on whether these elements of plant nutrition are in a 
+form which may be more or less easily assimilated and immediately utilised for nourishing the crops. 
+Hence, it will depend partly upon chemical and partly upon mechanical developments in agriculture to 
+what extent the same natural fertility may be made available on plots of land of similar natural fertility. 
+Fertility, although an objective property of the soil, always implies an economic relation, a relation to the 
+existing chemical and mechanical level of development in agriculture, and, therefore, changes with this 
+level of development. Whether by chemical means (such as the use of certain liquid fertilisers on stiff 
+clay soil and calcination of heavy clayey soils) or mechanical means (such as special ploughs for heavy 
+soils), the obstacles which made a soil of equal fertility actually less fertile can be eliminated (drainage 
+also belongs under this head). Or even the sequence in types of soils taken under cultivation may be 
+changed thereby, as was the case, for instance, with light sandy soil and heavy clayey soil at a certain 
+period of development in English agriculture. This shows once again that historically, in the sequence of 
+soils taken under cultivation, one may pass over from more fertile to less fertile soils as well as vice 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 39 
+
+versa. The same results may be obtained by an artificially created improvement in soil composition or by 
+a mere change in agricultural methods. Finally, the same result may be brought about by a change in the 
+hierarchical arrangement of the soil types due to different conditions of the subsoil, as soon as the latter 
+likewise begins to be tilled and turned over into top layers. This is in part dependent on the employment 
+of new agricultural methods (such as the cultivation of fodder-grass) and in part on the employment of 
+mechanical means which either turn the subsoil over into top layers, mix it with top soil, or cultivate the 
+subsoil without turning it up. 
+
+All these influences upon the differential fertility of various plots of land are such that from the 
+standpoint of economic fertility, the level of labour productivity, in this case the capacity of agriculture to 
+make the natural soil fertility immediately exploitable — a capacity which differs in various periods of 
+development — is as much a factor in so-called natural soil fertility as its chemical composition and other 
+natural properties. 
+
+We assume, then, the existence of a particular stage of development in agriculture. We assume 
+furthermore that the hierarchical arrangement of soil types accords with this stage of development, as is, 
+of course, always the case for simultaneous capital investments on different plots of land. Differential 
+rent may then form either an ascending or a descending sequence, for although the sequence is given for 
+the totality of actually cultivated plots of land, a series of movements leading to its formation has 
+invariably taken place. 
+
+Let us assume the existence of four kinds of soil: A, B, C, D. Let us furthermore assume the price of one 
+quarter of wheat =£3, or 60 shillings. Since the rent is solely differential rent, this price of 60 shillings 
+per quarter for the worst soil is equal to the price of production, that is, equal to the capital plus average 
+profit. Let A be this worst soil, which yields I quarter=60 shillings for each 50 shillings spent; hence the 
+profit amounts to 10 shillings, or 20%. 
+
+Let B yield 2 quarters=120 shillings for the same expenditure. This would mean 70 shillings of profit, or 
+a surplus-profit of 60 shillings. 
+
+Let C yield 3 quarters=180 shillings for the same expenditure; total profit = 130 shillings; surplus-profit 
+= 120 shillings. 
+
+Let D yield 4 quarters=240 shiilings=180 shillings of surplus-profit. 
+
+We would then have the following sequence: 
+
+TABLE I 
+
+
+
+Type of Soil 
+
+
+Product 
+
+
+Capital Advanced 
+
+
+Profit 
+
+
+Rent 
+
+
+Quarters 
+
+
+Shillings 
+
+
+Quarters 
+
+
+Shillings 
+
+
+Quarters 
+
+
+Shillings 
+
+
+A 
+B 
+C 
+D 
+
+
+1 
+
+2 
+3 
+4 
+
+
+60 
+120 
+180 
+240 
+
+
+50 
+50 
+50 
+50 
+
+
+1/6 
+
+1 1/6 
+
+2 1/6 
+
+3 1/6 
+
+
+10 
+70 
+130 
+190 
+
+
+1 
+
+2 
+3 
+
+
+60 
+
+120 
+
+180 
+
+
+Total... 
+
+
+10 qrs 
+
+
+600sh. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+6 qrs 
+
+
+360sh. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 39 
+
+The respective rents are: D=190sh.-10sh., or the difference between D and A; C=130sh.-10sh., or the 
+difference between C and A; B=7Osh.-10sh., or the difference between B and A; and the total rent for B, 
+C, D=6 quarters=360 shillings, equal to the sum of the differences between D and A, C and A, B and A. 
+
+This sequence, which represents a given product in a given condition may, considered abstractly (we 
+have already offered the reasons why this may he the case in reality), descend from D to A, from fertile 
+to less and less fertile soil, or rise from A to D, from relatively poor to more and more fertile soil, or, 
+finally, may fluctuate, i.e., now rising, now descending — for instance from D to C, from C to A, and 
+from A to B. 
+
+The process in the case of a descending sequence was as follows: The price of a quarter of wheat rose 
+gradually from, say, 15 shillings to 60 shillings. As soon as the 4 quarters produced by D (we may 
+consider these 4 quarters as so many million quarters) no longer sufficed, the price of wheat rose to a 
+point where the supply shortage could be produced by C. That is to say, the price of wheat must have 
+risen to 20 shillings per quarter. When it had risen to 30 shillings per quarter, B could be taken under 
+cultivation, and when it reached 60 shillings A could be taken under cultivation; and the capital invested 
+did not have to content itself with a rate of profit lower than 20%. In this manner, a rent was established 
+for D, first of 5 shillings per quarter=20 shillings for the 4 quarters produced by it; then of 15 shillings 
+per quarter =60 shillings, then of 45 shillings per quarter=180 shillings for 4 quarters. 
+
+If the rate of profit of D originally was similarly =20 %, then its total profit on 4 quarters of wheat was 
+also but 10 shillings, but this represented more grain when the price was 15 shillings than it does when 
+the price is 60 shillings. But since the grain enters into the reproduction of labour-power, and part of each 
+quarter has to make good some portion of wages and another constant capital, the surplus-value under 
+these conditions was higher, and thus other things being equal the rate of profit too. (The matter of rate of 
+profit will have to be specially analysed, and in greater detail.) 
+
+On the other hand, if the sequence were in the reverse order, that is, if the process initiated from A, then 
+the price of wheat at first would rise above 60 shillings per quarter when new land would have to be 
+taken under cultivation. But since the necessary supply would be produced by B, a supply of 2 quarters, 
+the price would fall to 60 shillings again, for B produced wheat at a cost of 30 shillings per quarter, but 
+sold it at 60 shillings because the supply just sufficed to cover the demand. Thus a rent was formed, first 
+of 60 shillings for B, and in the same way for C and D; it is assumed throughout that the market-price 
+remained at 60 shillings, although C and D produced wheat having an actual value of 20 and 15 shillings 
+per quarter respectively, because the supply of the one quarter produced by A was needed as much as 
+ever to satisfy the total demand. In this case, the increase in demand above supply, which was first 
+satisfied by A, then by A and B, would not have made it possible to cultivate B, C and D successively, 
+but would merely have caused a general extension of the sphere of cultivation, and the more fertile lands 
+might only later come under cultivation. 
+
+In the first sequence, an increase in price would raise the rent and decrease the rate of profit. Such a 
+decrease might be entirely or partially checked by counteracting circumstances. This point will have to 
+be treated later in more detail. It should not be forgotten that the general rate of profit is not determined 
+uniformly in all spheres of production by the surplus-value. It is not the agricultural profit which 
+determines industrial profit, but vice versa. But of this more anon. 
+
+In the second sequence the rate of profit on invested capital would remain the same. The amount of profit 
+would be represented by less grain; but the relative price of grain, compared with that of other 
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 39 
+
+commodities, would have risen. However, the increase in profit wherever such an increase takes place, 
+becomes separated from the profit in the form of rent, instead of flowing into the pockets of the capitalist 
+tenant farmer and appearing as a growing profit. The price of grain, however, could remain unchanged 
+under the conditions assumed here. 
+
+The development and growth, of differential rent would remain the same for fixed as well as for 
+increasing prices, and for a continuous progression from worse to better soils as well as for a continuous 
+retrogression from better to worse soils. 
+
+Thus far we have assumed: 1) that the price rises in one sequence and remains stationary in the other; 2) 
+that there is a continuous progression from better to worse soil, or from worse to better soil. 
+
+But now let us assume that the demand for grain rises from its original figure of 10 to 17 quarters; 
+furthermore, that the worst soil A is displaced by another soil A, which produces 1 1/3 quarters at a price 
+of production of 60 shillings (50sh. cost plus lOsh. for 20% profit), so that its price of production per 
+quarter=45 shillings; or, perhaps, the old soil A may have improved through continuous rational 
+cultivation, or be cultivated more productively at the same cost, for instance through the introduction of 
+clover, etc., so that its output with the same investment of capital rises to 1 1/3 quarters. Let us also 
+assume that soil types B, C and D yield the same output as previously, but that new soil types have been 
+introduced, for instance, A' with a fertility lying between A and B, and also B' and B" with a fertility 
+between B and C. We should then observe the following phenomena: 
+
+First: The price of production of a quarter of wheat, or its regulating market-price, falls from 60 shillings 
+to 45 shillings, or by 25%. 
+
+Second: The cultivation proceeds simultaneously from more fertile to less fertile soil, and from less 
+fertile to more fertile soil. Soil A' is more fertile than A, but less fertile than the hitherto cultivated soils 
+B, C and D. B' and B" are more fertile than A', A' and B, but less fertile than C and D. The sequence thus 
+proceeds in crisscross fashion. Cultivation does not proceed to soil absolutely less fertile than A, etc., but 
+to relatively less fertile soil with respect to the hitherto most fertile soil types C and on the other hand, 
+cultivation does not proceed to soil absolutely more fertile, but to relatively more fertile soil with respect 
+to the hitherto least fertile soil A, or A and B. 
+
+Thirdly: The rent on B falls; likewise the rent on C and D; but the total rental in grain rises from 6 
+quarters to 7 2/3; the amount of cultivated and rent-yielding land increases, and the amount of produce 
+rises from 10 quarters to 17. The profit, although it remains the same for A, rises if expressed in grain, 
+but the rate of profit itself might rise, because the relative surplus-value does. In this case, the wage, i.e., 
+the investment of variable capital and therefore the total outlay, is reduced because of the cheapening of 
+means of subsistence. This total rental expressed in money falls from 360 shillings to 345 shillings. 
+
+TABLE II 
+
+
+
+Type of 
+Soil 
+
+
+
+Product 
+
+
+
+Quarters 
+
+
+
+Shillings 
+
+
+
+Capital 
+Invested 
+
+
+
+Profit 
+
+
+
+Quarters 
+
+
+
+Shillings 
+
+
+
+Rent 
+
+
+
+Quarters 
+
+
+
+Shillings 
+
+
+
+Price of 
+Production 
+per Quarter 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3 
+
+
+Chapter 39 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A 
+
+
+1 1/3 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+50 
+
+
+2/9 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+
+
+— 
+
+
+45 sh. 
+
+
+A' 
+
+
+1 2/3 
+
+
+75 
+
+
+50 
+
+
+5/9 
+
+
+25 
+
+
+1/3 
+
+
+15 
+
+
+36 sh. 
+
+
+B 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+90 
+
+
+50 
+
+
+8/9 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+2/3 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+30 sh. 
+
+
+B' 
+
+
+2 1/3 
+
+
+105 
+
+
+50 
+
+
+1 2/9 
+
+
+55 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+45 
+
+
+25 5/7* sh. 
+
+
+B" 
+
+
+2 2/3 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+50 
+
+
+1 5/9 
+
+
+70 
+
+
+1 1/3 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+22 1/2 sh. 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+135 
+
+
+50 
+
+
+1 8/9 
+
+
+85 
+
+
+1 2/3 
+
+
+75 
+
+
+20 sh. 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+180 
+
+
+50 
+
+
+2 8/9 
+
+
+130 
+
+
+2 2/3 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+15 sh. 
+
+
+Total... 
+
+
+17 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+7 2/3 
+
+
+345 
+
+
+
+
+
+(* In the German 1894 edition this reads: 25 2/7. - Ed.) 
+
+Let us draw up the new sequence. [See p. 655 — Ed.~\ 
+
+Finally, if only soil types A, B, C and D were cultivated as before, but their productiveness rose in such a 
+way that A produced 2 quarters instead of 1 quarter, B — 4 quarters instead of 2, C — 7 quarters instead of 
+3, and D — 10 quarters instead of 4, so that the same causes affect the various types of soil differently, the 
+total production increases from 10 quarters to 23. Assuming that demand absorbs these 23 quarters 
+through an increase in population and a fall in prices, we should obtain the following result: 
+
+TABLE III 
+
+
+
+Type of 
+Soil 
+
+
+Product 
+
+
+Capital 
+Invested 
+
+
+Price of 
+Production 
+per Quarter 
+
+
+Profit 
+
+
+Rent 
+
+
+Quarters 
+
+
+Shillings 
+
+
+Quarters 
+
+
+Shillings 
+
+
+Quarters 
+
+
+Shillings 
+
+
+A 
+B 
+C 
+D 
+
+
+2 
+4 
+7 
+10 
+
+
+60 
+120 
+210 
+300 
+
+
+50 
+50 
+50 
+50 
+
+
+30 
+15 
+
+8 4/7 
+6 
+
+
+1/3 
+2 1/3 
+5 1/3 
+8 1/3 
+
+
+10 
+
+70 
+
+160 
+
+250 
+
+
+
+
+2 
+5 
+8 
+
+
+
+
+60 
+
+150 
+
+240 
+
+
+Total... 
+
+
+23 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+15 
+
+
+450 
+
+
+
+The numerical proportions in this and in other tables are chosen at random but the assumptions are quite 
+rational. 
+
+The first and principal assumption is that an improvement in agriculture acts differently upon different 
+soils, and in this case affects the best types of soil, C and D, more than types A and B. Experience has 
+shown that this is generally the case, although the opposite may also take place. If the improvement 
+affected the poorer soils more than the better ones, rent on the latter would have fallen instead of risen. 
+But in our table, we have assumed that the absolute growth in fertility of all soil types is simultaneously 
+accompanied by an increase in greater relative fertility of the better soil types, C and D; this means an 
+increase in the difference between the product at the same capital investment, and thus an increase in 
+differential rent. 
+
+The second assumption is that total demand keeps pace with the increase in the total product. First, one 
+need not imagine such an increase coming about abruptly, but rather gradually-until sequence III is 
+established. Secondly, it is not true that the consumption of necessities of life does not increase as they 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 39 
+
+become cheaper. The abolition of the Corn Laws in England proved the reverse to be the case (F. 
+Newman, Lectures on Political Economy, London, 1851, p. 158. — Ed.); the opposite view stems solely 
+from the fact that large and sudden differences in harvests, which are mere results of weather, bring 
+about at one time an extraordinary fall, at another an extraordinary rise, in grain prices. While in such a 
+case the sudden and short-lived reduction in price does not have time to exert its full effect upon the 
+extension of consumption, the opposite is true when a reduction arises from the lowering of the 
+regulating price of production itself, i.e., is of a long-term nature. Thirdly, a part of the grain may be 
+consumed in the form of brandy or beer; and the increasing consumption of both of these items is by no 
+means confined within narrow limits. Fourthly, the matter depends in part upon the increase in 
+population and in part on the fact that the country may be grain-exporting, as England still was long after 
+the middle of the 18th century, so that the demand is not solely regulated within the confines of national 
+consumption. Finally, the increase and price reduction in wheat production may result in making wheat, 
+instead of rye or oats, the principal article of consumption for the masses, so that the demand for it may 
+grow if only for this reason, just as the opposite may take place when production decreases and prices 
+rise.-Thus, under these assumptions, and with the previously selected ratios, sequence III yields the result 
+that the price per quarter falls from 60 to 30 shillings, that is, by 50%; that production, compared to 
+sequence I, increases from 10 to 23 quarters, i.e., by 130%; that the rent remains fixed for soil B, 
+increases by 25% (In the German 1894 edition this reads: doubles.-- Ed.) for C, and by 33 1/3 % (Ibid.p 
+22.-- Ed.) for D; and that the total rental increases from £18 to £22 1/2, (Ibid. 22. — Ed.), by 25%. (Ibid.: 
+22 1/9% - Ed.) 
+
+A comparison of these three tables (whereby sequence I is to be taken twice, rising from A to D, and 
+descending from D to A), which may be considered either as given gradations under some stage of 
+society, for instance, as existing side by side in three different countries, or as succeeding one another in 
+different periods of development within the same country, shows: 
+
+1) The sequence, when complete, whatever the course of its formative process may have been, invariably 
+appears as being in a descending line; for when analysing rent the point of departure will always be land 
+yielding the maximum rent, and only finally do we come to land yielding no rent. 
+
+2) The price of production on the worst soil, i.e., which yields no rent, is always the one regulating the 
+market-price, although the latter in Table I, if its sequence were formed in an ascending line, only 
+remained fixed because better and better soil was constantly drawn into cultivation. In such a case, the 
+price of grain produced on the best soil is a regulating one ill so far as it depends upon the quantity 
+produced on such soil to what extent soil type A remains the regulator. If B, C and D should produce 
+more than demand requires, A would cease to be the regulator. Storch has this point hazily in mind when 
+he adopts the best soil type as the regulating one. (H. Storch, Cours d'economie politique, ou Exposition 
+des principes qui determinent la prosperite des nations, Tome II, St.-Petersbourg, 1815, pp. 78-79. — 
+Ed.) In this manner, the American price of grain regulates the English price. 
+
+3) Differential rent arises from differences in the natural fertility of the soil which is given for every 
+given stage of agricultural development (leaving aside for the present the question of location); in other 
+words, from the limited area of the best land, and from the circumstance that equal amounts of capital 
+must be invested on unequal types of soil, so that an unequal product results from the same amount of 
+capital. 
+
+4) The existence of a differential rent and of a graduated differential rent can develop equally well in a 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 39 
+
+descending sequence, which proceeds from better to worse soils, as in an ascending one, which 
+progresses in the opposite direction from worse to better soils; or it may be brought about in checkered 
+fashion by alternating movements. (Sequence I may be formed by proceeding from D to A, or from A to 
+D; sequence II comprises both types of movement.) 
+
+5) Depending on its mode of formation, differential rent may develop along with a stationary, rising or 
+falling price of the products of the land. In the case of a falling price, total production and total rental 
+may rise, and rent may develop on hitherto rentless land, even though the worst soil A may have been 
+displaced by a better one or may itself have improved, and even though the rent may decrease on other 
+land which is better, or even the best (Table II); this process may also be connected with a fall in total 
+rent (in money). Finally, at a time when prices fall on account of a general improvement in cultivation, so 
+that the product of the worst soil and its price decrease, the rent on some of the better soils may remain 
+the same, or may fall, while it may rise on the best ones. Nevertheless, the differential rent of every soil, 
+compared with the worst soil, depends, if the difference in quantity of products is given, upon the price, 
+say, of a quarter of wheat. But when the price is given, differential rent depends upon the magnitude of 
+the difference in quantity of products, and if with an increasing absolute fertility of all soils that of the 
+better ones grows relatively more than that of the worse ones, the magnitude of this difference grows 
+proportionately. In this way (see Table I), when the price is 60 shillings, the rent on D is determined by 
+its differential product as compared with A; in other words, by the surplus of 3 quarters. The rent is 
+therefore=3x60=180 shillings. But in Table III, where the price=30 shillings, the rent is determined by the 
+quantity of surplus-product of D as compared with A=8 quarters; we therefore obtain 8x30=240 shillings. 
+
+This takes care of the first false assumption regarding differential rent-still found among West, Malthus, 
+and Ricardo — namely, that it necessarily presupposes a movement toward worse and worse soil, or an 
+ever-decreasing fertility of the soil.([West] Essay on the Application Of Capital to Land, London, 1815. 
+Malthus, Principles of Political Economy, London, 1836. Malthus, An Inquiry into the Nature and 
+Progress of Rent, and the Principles by which it is regulated, London, 1815. Ricardo, On the Principles 
+of Political Economy, and Taxation, Third edition, London, 4824, Chap. 11. —Ed.) It can be formed, as 
+we have seen, with a movement toward better and better soil; it can be formed when a better soil takes 
+the lowest position that was formerly occupied by the worst soil; it can be connected with a progressive 
+improvement in agriculture. The precondition is merely the inequality of different kinds of soil. So far as 
+the increase in productivity is concerned, it assumes that the increase in absolute fertility of the total area 
+does not eliminate this inequality, but either increases it, leaves it unchanged, or merely reduces it. 
+
+From the beginning to the middle of the 18th century, England's grain prices constantly fell in spite of the 
+falling prices of gold and silver, while at the same time (viewing this entire period as a whole) there was 
+an increase in rent, in the over-all amount of rent, in the area of cultivated land, in agricultural 
+production, and in population. This corresponds to Table I taken in conjunction with Table II in an 
+ascending line, but in such a way that the worst land A is either improved or eliminated from the 
+grain-producing area; however, this does not mean that it was not used for other agricultural or industrial 
+purposes. 
+
+From the early 19th century (date to be specified more precisely) until 1815 there is a constant rise in 
+grain prices, accompanied by a steady increase in rent, in the over-all amount of rent, in the area of 
+cultivated land, in agricultural production, and in population. This corresponds to Table I in a descending 
+line. (Cite some sources here on the cultivation of inferior land in that period.) 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 39 
+
+In Petty's and Davenant's time, farmers and landowners complained about improvements and the 
+bringing into cultivation of new land; the rent on better lands decreased, and the total amount of rent 
+increased through the extension of the area of land yielding rent. 
+
+(These three points should be illustrated later by quotations; likewise for the difference in fertility of 
+various cultivated sections of land in a particular country.) 
+
+Regarding differential rent in general, it is to be noted that the market- value is always above the total 
+price of production of the total quantity of products. As an example, let us take Table I. Ten quarters of 
+total product are sold for 600 shillings because the market-price is determined by the price of production 
+of A, which amounts to 60 shillings per quarter. But the actual price of production is: 
+
+A 1 qr =60 sh. 1 qr =60 sh. 
+
+B 2 qrs =60 sh. 1 qr =30 sh. 
+
+C 3 qrs =60 sh. 1 qr =20 sh 
+
+D 4 qrs =60 sh. 1 qr =15 sh. 
+
+10 qrs=240 sh. Average 1 qr=24 sh. 
+
+The actual price of production of these 10 quarters is 240 shillings; but they are sold for 600 shillings, 
+i.e., at 250% of the price of production. The actual average price for I quarter is 24 shillings; the 
+market-price is 60 shillings, i.e., also 250% of the production price. 
+
+This is determination by market- value as it asserts itself on the basis of capitalist production through 
+competition; the latter creates a false social value. This arises from the law of market- value, to which the 
+products of the soil are subject. The determination of the market- value of products, including therefore 
+agricultural products, is a social act, albeit a socially unconscious and unintentional one. It is based 
+necessarily upon the exchange-value of the product, not upon the soil and the differences in its fertility. If 
+we suppose the capitalist form of society to be abolished and society organised as a conscious and 
+planned association, then the 10 quarters would represent a quantity of independent labour-time equal to 
+that contained in 240 shillings. Society would not then buy this agricultural product at two and a half 
+times the actual labour-time embodied in it and the basis for a class of landowners would thus be 
+destroyed. This would have the same effect as a reduction in price of the product to the same amount 
+resulting from foreign imports. While it is, therefore, true that, by retaining the present mode of 
+production, but assuming that the differential rent is paid to the state, prices of agricultural products 
+would, everything else being equal, remain the same, it is equally wrong to say that the value of the 
+products would remain the same if capitalist production were superseded by association. The identity of 
+the market-price for commodities of the same kind is the manner whereby the social character of value 
+asserts itself on the basis of capitalist production and, in general, any production based on the exchange 
+of commodities between individuals. What society overpays for agricultural products in its capacity of 
+consumer, what is a minus in the realisation of its labour-time in agricultural production, is now a plus 
+for a portion of society, for the landlords. 
+
+A second circumstance, important for the analysis to be given under II of the next chapter, is the 
+following: 
+
+It is not merely a matter of rent per acre, or per hectare, nor generally of a difference between the price of 
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 39 
+
+production and market-price, nor between the individual and the general price of production per acre, but 
+it is also a question of how many acres of each type of soil are under cultivation. The point of importance 
+here relates directly only to the magnitude of the rental, that is, the total rent of the entire cultivated area; 
+but it serves us at the same time as a stepping-stone to the consideration of a rise in the rate of rent 
+although there is no rise in prices, nor increase in the differences in relative fertility of the various types 
+of soil if prices fall. 
+
+
+
+We had above: 
+
+
+
+TABLE I 
+
+
+
+Type of Soil 
+
+
+Acres 
+
+
+Price of Production 
+
+
+Product 
+
+
+Rent in Grain 
+
+
+Rent in Money 
+
+
+A 
+B 
+C 
+D 
+
+
+1 
+
+1 
+1 
+1 
+
+
+£3 
+£3 
+£3 
+£3 
+
+
+1 qrs 
+
+2 qrs 
+
+3 qrs 
+
+4 qrs 
+
+
+
+
+1 qrs 
+
+2 qrs 
+3qrs 
+
+
+
+
+£3 
+£6 
+£9 
+
+
+Total... 
+
+
+4 acres 
+
+
+
+
+10 qrs 
+
+
+6 qrs 
+
+
+£18 
+
+
+
+Now let us assume that the number of cultivated acres is doubled in every category. We then have: 
+
+TABLE la 
+
+
+
+Type of Soil 
+
+
+Acres 
+
+
+Price of Production 
+
+
+Product 
+
+
+Rent in Grain 
+
+
+Rent in Money 
+
+
+A 
+B 
+C 
+D 
+
+
+2 
+2 
+2 
+2 
+
+
+££6 
+£6 
+£6 
+£6 
+
+
+2 qrs 
+4 qrs 
+6 qrs 
+8 qrs 
+
+
+
+2 qrs 
+4 qrs 
+6qrs 
+
+
+
+
+£6 
+£12 
+£18 
+
+
+Total... 
+
+
+8 acres 
+
+
+
+
+20 qrs 
+
+
+12 qrs 
+
+
+£36 
+
+
+
+Let us assume two more cases. Suppose in the first case production expands on the two poorest types of 
+soil in the following manner: 
+
+TABLE lb 
+
+
+
+Type of Soil 
+
+
+Acres 
+
+
+Price of Production 
+
+
+Product 
+
+
+Rent in Grain 
+
+
+Rent in Money 
+
+
+Per Acre 
+
+
+Total 
+
+
+A 
+B 
+C 
+D 
+
+
+4 
+4 
+
+2 
+2 
+
+
+£3 
+£3 
+£3 
+£3 
+
+
+£3 
+
+£6 
+
+£15 
+
+£16 
+
+
+4qr 
+8 qrs 
+6 qrs 
+8 qrs 
+
+
+o 
+
+4 qrs 
+4 qrs 
+6 qrs 
+
+
+£0 
+£12 
+£12 
+£18 
+
+
+Total... 
+
+
+12 acres 
+
+
+
+
+£36 
+
+
+26qrs 
+
+
+14 qrs 
+
+
+£42 
+
+
+
+And, finally, let us assume an unequal expansion of production and cultivated area for the four soil 
+categories: 
+
+
+
+TABLE Ic 
+
+
+
+Price of Production 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 39 
+
+
+
+Type of Soil 
+
+
+Acres 
+
+
+Per Acre 
+
+
+Total 
+
+
+Product 
+
+
+Rent in Grain 
+
+
+Rent in Money 
+
+
+A 
+B 
+C 
+D 
+
+
+1 
+
+2 
+5 
+4 
+
+
+£3 
+£3 
+£3 
+£3 
+
+
+£3 
+
+£6 
+
+£15 
+
+£12 
+
+
+1 qr 
+4 qrs 
+
+15 qrs 
+
+16 qrs 
+
+
+
+2 qrs 
+10 qrs 
+12 qrs 
+
+
+£0 
+
+£6 
+
+£30 
+
+£18 
+
+
+Total... 
+
+
+12 acres 
+
+
+
+
+£36 
+
+
+36qrs 
+
+
+24 qrs 
+
+
+£72 
+
+
+
+In the first place, the rent per acre remains the same in all these cases — I, la, lb and Ic — for, in fact, the 
+result of the same investment of capital per acre of the same soil type has remained unchanged. We have 
+only assumed what is true of any country at any given moment; namely, that various soil types exist in 
+definite ratios to the total cultivated area. And we also assumed what is always true of any two countries 
+being compared, or of the same country at different periods, namely, that the proportions in which the 
+total cultivated area is distributed among the different soil types vary. 
+
+In comparing la with I we see that if the cultivation of land in all four categories increases in the same 
+proportion a doubling of the cultivated acreage doubles the total production, and that the same applies to 
+the rent in grain and money. 
+
+However, if we compare lb and then Ic with I, we see that in both cases a tripling of the area under 
+cultivation occurs. It increases in both cases from 4 acres to 12, but in lb classes A and B contribute most 
+to the increase, with A yielding no rent and B yielding the smallest amount of differential rent. Thus, out 
+of the 8 newly cultivated acres, A and B account for 3 each, i.e., 6 together, whereas C and D account for 
+I each, i.e., 2 together. In other words, three-quarters of the increase is accounted for by A and B, and 
+only one-quarter by C and D. With this premise, in lb compared with I the trebled area of cultivation 
+does not result in a trebled product, for the product does not increase from 10 to 30, but only to 26. On 
+the other hand, since a considerable part of the increase concerns A, which does not yield any rent, and 
+since the major part of the increase on better soils concerns B, the rent in grain rises only from 6 to 14 
+quarters, and the rent in money from £18 to £42. 
+
+But if we compare Ic with I, where the land yielding no rent does not increase in area and the land 
+yielding a minimum rent increases but slightly, while C and D account for the major part of the increase, 
+we find that when the cultivated area is trebled production increases from 10 to 36 quarters, i.e., to more 
+than three times its original amount. The rent in grain increases from 6 to 24 quarters or to four times its 
+original amount; and similarly money -rent, from £18 to £72. 
+
+In all these cases it is in the nature of things that the price of the agricultural product remains unchanged. 
+The total rental increases in all cases with the extension of cultivation, unless it takes place exclusively 
+on the worst soil, which does not yield any rent. But this increase varies. Should this extension involve 
+the better soil types and the total output, consequently, increase not merely in proportion to the expansion 
+of the area, but rather more rapidly, then the rent in grain and money increases to the same extent. Should 
+it be the worst soil, and the types of soil close to it, that are principally involved in the expansion 
+(whereby it is assumed that the worst soil represents a constant type), the total rental does not increase in 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 39 
+
+proportion to the extension of cultivation. Thus, given two countries in which soil A, yielding no rent, is 
+of the same quality, the rental is inversely proportional to the aliquot part represented by the worst soil 
+and the inferior soil types in the total area under cultivation, and therefore inversely proportional to the 
+output, assuming equal capital investments on equal total land areas. A relationship between the quantity 
+of the worst and the quantity of the better cultivated land in the total land area of a given country thus has 
+an opposite influence on the total rental than the relationship between the quality of the worst cultivated 
+land and the quality of the better and best has on the rent per acre and-other circumstances remaining the 
+same-on the total rental. Confusion between these two points has given rise to all kinds of erroneous 
+objections raised against differential rent. 
+
+The total rental, then, increases by the mere extension of cultivation, and by the consequent greater 
+investment of capital and labour in the land. But the most important point is this: Although it is our 
+assumption that the ratio of rents per acre for the various kinds of soil remains the same, and therefore 
+also the rate of rent considered with reference to capital invested in each acre, yet the following is to be 
+observed: If we compare la with I, the case in which the number of cultivated acres and the capital 
+invested in them have been proportionately increased, we find that as the total production has increased 
+proportionately to the expanded cultivated area, i.e., as both have been doubled, so has the rental. It has 
+risen from £18 to £36, just as the number of acres has risen from 4 to 8. 
+
+If we take the total area of 4 acres, we find that the total rental amounted to £18 and thus the average 
+rent, including the land which does not yield any rent, is £4112. Such a calculation might be made, say, 
+by a landlord owning all 4 acres; and in this way the average rent is statistically computed for a whole 
+country. The total rental of £18 is obtained by the investment of a capital of £10. We call the ratio of 
+these two figures the rate of rent; in the present case it is therefore 180%. 
+
+The same rate of rent obtains in la, where 8 instead of 4 acres are cultivated, but all types of land have 
+contributed to the increase in the same proportion. The total rental of £36 yields for 8 acres and an 
+invested capital of £20 an average rent of £41 12 per acre and a rate of rent of 180%. 
+
+But if we consider lb, where the increase has taken place mainly upon two inferior categories of soil, we 
+obtain a rent of £42 for 12 acres, or an average rent of £31 12 per acre. The total invested capital is £30, 
+and therefore the rate of rent=140%. The average rent per acre has thus decreased by £1, and the rate of 
+rent has fallen from 180 to 140%. Here then we have a rise in the total rental from £18 to £42, but a drop 
+in average rent calculated per acre as well as on the basis of capital; the drop takes place parallel to an 
+increase in production, but not proportionately. This occurs even though the rent for all types of soil, 
+calculated per acre as well as on the basis of capital outlay, remains the same. This occurs because 
+three-quarters of the increase is accounted for by soil A, which does not yield any rent, and soil B, which 
+yields only minimum rent. 
+
+If the total expansion in Case lb had taken place solely on soil A, we should have 9 acres on A, I acre on 
+B, I acre on C and I acre on D. The total rental would be £18, the same as before; the average rent for the 
+12 acres therefore would be £1 1 12 per acre; and a rent of £18 on an invested capital of £30 would give a 
+rate of rent of 60%. The average rent, calculated per acre as well as on the basis of invested capital, 
+would have greatly decreased, while the total rental would not have increased. 
+
+Finally, let us compare Ic with I and lb. Compared with I, the area has been trebled, and also the invested 
+capital. The total rental is £72 for 12 acres, or £6 per acre-as against £41 12 in Case I. The rate of rent on 
+the invested capital (£72 : £30) is 240% instead of 180%. The total output has risen from 10 to 36 
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 39 
+
+quarters. 
+
+Compared with lb, where the total number of cultivated acres, the invested capital, and the differences 
+between the cultivated soil types are the same, but the distribution different, the output is 36 quarters 
+instead of 26 quarters, the average rent per acre is £6 instead of £3112, and the rate of rent with reference 
+to the same invested total capital is 240% instead of 140%. 
+
+No matter whether we regard the various conditions in tables la, lb and Ic as existing simultaneously side 
+by side in different countries, or as existing successively in the same country, we come to the following 
+conclusions: So long as the price of grain remains unchanged because the yield on the worst, rentless soil 
+remains the same; so long as the difference in the fertility of the various cultivated types of soil remains 
+the same; so long as the respective outputs remain the same, hence, given equal capital investments on 
+equal aliquot parts (acres) of cultivated area in every type of soil; so long as the ratio, therefore, between 
+the rents per acre on each category of soil is constant, and the rate of rent on the capital invested in each 
+plot of the same kind of soil is constant: First, the rental constantly increases with the extension of 
+cultivated area and with the consequent increased capital investment, except for the case where the entire 
+increase is accounted for by rentless land. Secondly, the average rent per acre (total rental divided by the 
+total number of cultivated acres) as well as the average rate of rent (total rental divided by the invested 
+total capital) may vary very considerably; and, indeed, both change in the same direction, but in different 
+proportions to each other. If we leave out of consideration the case in which the expansion takes place 
+only on the rentless soil A, we find that the average rent per acre and the average rate of rent on the 
+capital invested in agriculture depend on the proportions which the various classes of soil constitute in 
+the total cultivated area; or, what amounts to the same thing, on the distribution of the total employed 
+capital among the kinds of soil of varying fertility. Whether much or little land is cultivated, and whether 
+the total rental is therefore larger or smaller (with the exception of the case in which the expansion is 
+confined to A), the average rent per acre, or the average rate of rent on invested capital, remains the same 
+as long as the proportions of the various categories of soil in the total cultivated area remain unchanged. 
+In spite of an increase, even a very considerable one, in the total rental with the extension of cultivation 
+and expansion of capital investment, the average rent per acre and the average rate of rent on capital 
+decrease when the extension of rentless land, and land yielding only little differential rent, is greater than 
+the extension of the superior one yielding greater rent. Conversely, the average rent per acre and the 
+average rate of rent on capital increase proportionately to the extent that better land constitutes a 
+relatively greater part of the total area and therefore employs a relatively greater share of the invested 
+capital. 
+
+Hence, if we consider the average rent per acre, or hectare, of the total cultivated land as is generally 
+done in statistical works, in comparing either different countries in the same period, or different periods 
+in the same country, we find that the average level of rent per acre, and consequently total rental, 
+corresponds to a certain extent (although by no means identical, but rather a more rapidly increasing 
+extent) to the absolute, not to the relative, fertility of the soil in a given country; that is, to the average 
+amount of produce which it yields from the same area. For the larger the share of superior soils in the 
+total cultivated area, the greater the output for equal capital investments on equally large areas of land; 
+and the higher the average rent per acre. In the reverse case the opposite takes place. Thus, rent does not 
+appear to be determined by the ratio of differential fertility, but by the absolute fertility, and the law of 
+differential rent appears invalid. For this reason certain phenomena are disputed, or an attempt is made to 
+explain them by non-existing differences in average prices of grain and in the differential fertility of 
+cultivated land, whereas such phenomena are merely due to the fact that the ratio of total rental to total 
+
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+
+area of cultivated land or to total capital invested in the land-as long as the fertility of the rentless soil 
+remains the same and therefore the prices of production, and the differences between the various kinds of 
+soil remain unchanged-is determined not merely by the rent per acre or the rate of rent on capital, but 
+quite as much by the relative number of acres of each type of soil in the total number of cultivated acres; 
+or, what amounts to the same thing, by the distribution of the total invested capital among the various 
+types of soil. Curiously enough, this fact has been completely overlooked thus far. At any rate, we see 
+(and this is important for our further analysis) that the relative level of the average rent per acre, and the 
+average rate of rent (or the ratio of the total rental to the total capital invested in the land), may rise or fall 
+by merely extensively expanding cultivation, as long as prices remain the same, the differential fertilities 
+of the various soils remain unaltered, and the rent per acre, or rate of rent for capital invested per acre in 
+every type of soil actually yielding rent, i.e., for all capital actually yielding rent, remains unchanged. 
+
+
+
+It is necessary to make the following additional points with reference to the form of differential rent 
+considered under heading I; they also apply in part to differential rent II: 
+
+First, it was seen that the average rent per acre, or the average rate of rent on capital, may increase with 
+an extension of cultivation when prices are stationary and the differential fertility of the cultivated plots 
+of land remains unaltered. As soon as all the land in a given country has been appropriated, and 
+investments of capital in land, cultivation, and population have reached a definite level-all given 
+conditions as soon as the capitalist mode of production becomes the prevailing one and also encompasses 
+agriculture-the price of uncultivated land of varying quality (merely assuming differential rent to exist) is 
+determined by the price of the cultivated plots of land of the same quality and equivalent location. The 
+price is the same-after deducting the cost of bringing the new land into cultivation-even though this land 
+does not yield any rent. The price of the land is, indeed, nothing but the capitalised rent. But even in the 
+case of cultivated land, the price pays only for future rents, as, for instance, when the prevalent interest 
+rate is 5% and the rent for twenty years is paid at one time in advance. When land is sold, it is sold as 
+land yielding rent, and the prospective character of the rent (which is here considered as a product of the 
+soil, but it only seems to be that) does not distinguish the uncultivated from the cultivated land. The price 
+of the uncultivated land, like its rent the price of which represents the contracted form of the latter is 
+quite illusory as long as the land is not actually used. But it is thus determined a priori and is realised as 
+soon as a purchaser is found. Hence, while the actual average rent in a given country is determined by its 
+actual average annual rental and the relation of the latter to the total cultivated area, the price of the 
+uncultivated land is determined by the price of the cultivated land, and is therefore but a reflection of the 
+capital invested in the cultivated land and the results obtained therefrom. Since all land with the 
+exception of the worst yields rent (and this rent, as we shall see under the head of differential rent II, 
+increases with the quantity of capital and corresponding intensity of cultivation), the nominal price of 
+uncultivated plots of land is thus formed, and they thus become commodities, a source of wealth for their 
+owners. This explains at the same time, why the price of land increases in a whole region, even in the 
+uncultivated part (Opdyke). Land speculation, for instance, in the United States, is based solely on this 
+reflection thrown by capital and labour on uncultivated land. 
+
+Secondly, progress in extending cultivated land generally takes place either toward inferior soil or on the 
+various given types of soil in varying proportions, depending on the manner in which they are met. 
+Extension on inferior soil is naturally never made voluntarily, but can only result from rising prices, 
+assuming a capitalist mode of production, and can only result from necessity under any other mode of 
+production. However, this is not absolutely so. Poor soil may be preferred to a relatively better soil on 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 39 
+
+account of location, which is of decisive importance for every extension of cultivation in young 
+countries; furthermore, even though the soil formation in a certain region may generally be classified as 
+fertile, it may nevertheless consist of a motley confusion of better and worse soils, so that the inferior soil 
+may have to be cultivated if only because it is found in the immediate vicinity of the superior soil. If 
+inferior soil is surrounded by superior soil, then the latter gives it the advantage of location in comparison 
+with more fertile soil which is not yet, or is about to become, part of the cultivated area. 
+
+Thus, the State of Michigan was one of the first Western States to become an exporter of grain. Yet its 
+Soil on the whole is poor. But its proximity to the State of New York and its water-ways via the Lakes 
+and Erie Canal initially gave it the advantage over the States endowed by Nature with more fertile soil, 
+but situated farther to the West. The example of this State, as compared with the State of New York, also 
+demonstrates the transition from superior to inferior soil. The soil of the State of New York, particularly 
+its western part, is incomparably more fertile, especially for the cultivation of wheat. This fertile soil was 
+transformed into infertile soil by rapacious methods of cultivation, and now the soil of Michigan 
+appeared as the more fertile. 
+
+"In 1838, wheaten flour was shipped at Buffalo for the West; and the wheat-region of New 
+York, with that of Upper Canada, were the main sources of its supply. Now, after only 
+twelve years, an enormous supply of wheat and flour is brought from the West, along Lake 
+Erie, and shipped upon the Erie Canal for the East, at Buffalo and the adjoining port of 
+Blackrock.... The effect of these large arrivals from the Western States-which were 
+unnaturally stimulated during the years of European famine... has been to render wheat less 
+valuable in western New York, to make the wheat culture less remunerative, and to turn the 
+attention of the New York farmers more to grazing and dairy husbandry, fruit culture, and 
+other branches of rural economy, in which they think the North- West will be unable so 
+directly to compete with them." (I. W. Johnston, Notes on North America, London, 1851, 1, 
+pp.220-23.) 
+
+Thirdly, it is a mistaken assumption that the land in colonies and, in general, in young countries which 
+can export grain at cheaper prices, must of necessity be of greater natural fertility. The grain is not only 
+sold below its value in such cases, but below its price of production, i.e., below the price of production 
+determined by the average rate of profit in the older countries. 
+
+The fact that we, as Johnston says (p. 223), "are accustomed to attach the idea of great natural 
+productiveness and of boundless tracts of rich land, to those new States from which come the large 
+supplies of wheat that are annually poured into the port of Buffalo," is primarily the result of economic 
+conditions. The entire population of such an area as Michigan, for instance, is at first almost exclusively 
+engaged in farming, and particularly in producing agricultural mass products, which alone can be 
+exchanged for industrial products and tropical goods. Its entire surplus production appears, therefore, in 
+the form of grain. This from the outset sets apart the colonial states founded on the basis of the modern 
+world-market from those of earlier, particularly ancient, times. They receive through the world-market 
+finished products, such as clothing and tools which they would have to produce themselves under other 
+circumstances. Only on such a basis were the Southern States of the Union enabled to make cotton their 
+staple crop. The division of labour on the world-market makes this possible. Hence, if they seem to have 
+a large surplus production considering their youth and relatively small population, this is not so much 
+due to the fertility of their soil, nor the fruitfulness of their labour, but rather to the one-sided form of 
+their labour, and therefore of the surplus-produce in which such labour is incorporated. 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 39 
+
+Furthermore, a relatively inferior soil which is newly cultivated and never before touched by civilisation 
+provided the climatic conditions are then not completely unfavourable, has accumulated a great deal of 
+plant food that is easily assimilated-at least in the upper layers of the soil-so that it will yield crops for a 
+long time without the application of fertilisers and even with very superficial cultivation. The western 
+prairies have the additional advantage of hardly requiring any clearing expenses since Nature has made 
+them arable. f33al In less fertile areas of this kind, the surplus is not produced as a result of the high 
+fertility of the soil, i.e., the yield per acre, but as a result of the large acreage which may be superficially 
+cultivated, since such land costs the cultivator nothing, or next to nothing as compared with older 
+countries. This is the case, for instance, where share cropping exists, as in parts of New York, Michigan, 
+Canada, etc. A family superficially cultivates, say, 100 acres, and although the output per acre is not 
+large, the output from 100 acres yields a considerable surplus for sale. In addition to this, cattle may be 
+grazed on natural pastures at almost no cost, without requiring artificial grass meadows. It is the quantity 
+of the land, not its quality, which is decisive here. The possibility of such superficial cultivation is 
+naturally more or less rapidly exhausted, namely, in inverse proportion to the fertility of the new soil and 
+in direct proportion to the export of its products. "And yet such a country will give excellent first crops, 
+even of wheat, and will supply to those who skim the first cream off the country, a large surplus of this 
+grain to send to market" (1, c, p. 224). Property relations in countries with maturer civilisations, with 
+their determination of the price of uncultivated soil by that of the cultivated, etc., make such an extensive 
+economy impossible. 
+
+That this soil, therefore, need not be exceedingly rich, as Ricardo imagines, nor that soils of equal 
+fertility need be cultivated, may be seen from the following. In the State of Michigan 465,900 acres were 
+planted in 1848 to wheat which yielded 4,739,300 bushels, or an average of 10 1/5 bushels per acre after 
+deducting seed grain, this leaves less than 9 bushels per acre. Of the 29 counties of this State, 2 produced 
+an average of 7 bushels, 3 an average of 8 bushels, 2—9, 7—10, 6—11, 3—12, 4—13 bushels, and only one 
+county produced an average of 16 bushels, and another 18 bushels per acre (1. c, p. 225). 
+
+For practical cultivation higher soil fertility coincides with greater capability of immediate exploitation 
+of such fertility. The latter may be greater in a naturally poor soil than in a naturally rich one; but it is the 
+kind of soil which a colonist will take up first, and must take up when capital is wanting. 
+
+Finally, the extension of cultivation to larger areas-aside from the case just mentioned, in which recourse 
+must be had to soil inferior than that cultivated hitherto-to the various kinds of soil from A to D, thus, for 
+instance, the cultivation of larger tracts of B and C does not by any means presuppose a previous rise in 
+grain prices any more than the preceding annual expansion of cotton spinning, for instance, requires a 
+constant rise in yarn prices. Although considerable rise or fall in market-prices affects the volume of 
+production, regardless of it there is in agriculture (just as in all other capitalistically operated lines of 
+production) nevertheless a continuous relative over-production, in itself identical with accumulation, 
+even at those average prices whose level has neither a retarding nor exceptionally stimulating effect on 
+production. Under other modes of production this relative overproduction is effected directly by the 
+population increase, and in colonies by steady immigration. The demand increases constantly, and, in 
+anticipation of this new capital is continually invested in new land, although this varies with the 
+circumstances for different agricultural products. It is the formation of new capitals which in itself brings 
+this about. But so far as the individual capitalist is concerned, he measures the volume of his production 
+by that of his available capital, to the extent that he can still control it himself. His aim is to capture as 
+big a portion as possible of the market. Should there be any over-production, he will not take the blame 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 39 
+
+upon himself, but places it upon his competitors. The individual capitalist may expand his production by 
+appropriating a larger aliquot share of the existing market or by expanding the market itself. 
+
+Footnotes 
+
+f33al [It is precisely the rapidly growing cultivation of such prairie or steppe regions which of late turns 
+the renowned statement of Malthus, that "the population is a burden upon the means of subsistence," into 
+ridicule, and produced in its stead the agrarian lament that agriculture, and with it Germany, will be 
+ruined, unless the means of subsistence which are a burden upon the population are forcibly kept away 
+from them. The cultivation of these steppes, prairies, pampas, ilanos, etc., is nevertheless only in its 
+beginning; its revolutionising effect on European agriculture will, therefore, make itself felt in the future 
+even more so than hitherto. — F. E. 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 40 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 40 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Part VI 
+
+TRANSFORMATION OF SURPLUS-PROFIT 
+
+INTO GROUND RENT 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 40 
+
+Second Form of Differential Rent 
+(Differential Rent II) 
+
+
+
+Thus far we have considered differential rent only as the result of varying productivity of equal amounts 
+of capital invested in equal areas of land of different fertility, so that differential rent was determined by 
+the difference between the yield from the capital invested in the worst, rentless soil and that from the 
+capital invested in superior soil. We had side by side capitals invested in different plots of land, so that 
+every new investment of capital signified a more extensive cultivation of the soil, an expansion of 
+cultivated area. In the last analysis, however, differential rent was by its nature merely the result of the 
+different productivity of equal capitals invested in land. But can it make any difference if capitals of 
+different productivity are invested successively in the same plot of land or side by side in different plots 
+of land, provided the results are the same? 
+
+To begin with, there is no denying that, in so far as the formation of surplus-profit is concerned, it is 
+immaterial whether £3 in production price per acre of A yield 1 qr, so that £3 is the price of production 
+and the regulating market-price of 1 qr, while £3 in production price per acre of B yield 2 qrs, and 
+thereby £3 of surplus-profit, similarly, £3 in production price per acre of C yield 3 qrs and £6 of 
+surplus-profit, and, finally, £3 in production price per acre of D yield 4 qrs and £9 of surplus-profit; or 
+whether the same result is achieved by applying these £12 in production price, or £10 of capital, with the 
+same success in the same sequence upon one and the same acre. It is in both cases a capital of £10, 
+whose value portions of £2 1/2 each are successively invested — whether in four acres of varying fertility 
+side by side, or successively in one and the same acre of land — and because of their varying outputs, one 
+portion yields no surplus-profit, whereas the other portions yield surplus-profit proportionate to their 
+difference in yield with respect to rentless investment. 
+
+The surplus-profit and the various rates of surplus-profit for the different value portions of capital are 
+formed in the same manner in both cases. And the rent is nothing but a form of this surplus-profit, which 
+constitutes its substance. But at any rate, in the second method, there are some difficulties concerning the 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 40 
+
+transformation of surplus-profit into rent, this change of form, which includes the transfer of 
+surplus-profit from the capitalist tenant to the landowner. This accounts for the obstinate resistance of 
+English tenants to official agricultural statistics. And it accounts for their struggle against the landlords 
+over the determination of actual results derived from their capital investment (Morton). For rent is fixed 
+when land is leased, and after that the surplus-profit arising from successive investments of capital flows 
+into the pockets of the tenant as long as the lease lasts. This is why the tenants have fought for long 
+leases, and, on the other hand, due to the greater power of the landlords, an increase in the number of 
+tenancies at will has taken place, i.e., leases which can be cancelled annually. 
+
+It is therefore evident from the very outset that, even if immaterial for the law of formation of 
+surplus-profit, it makes a considerable difference for the transformation of surplus-profit into ground-rent 
+whether equal capitals are invested side by side in equal areas of land with unequal results, or whether 
+they are invested successively in the same land. The latter method confines this transformation, on the 
+one hand, within narrower limits, on the other hand, within more variable limits. For this reason, the 
+work of the tax-assessor, as Morton shows in his Resources of Estates, becomes a very important, 
+complicated and difficult profession in countries practising intensive cultivation (and, economically 
+speaking, we mean nothing more by intensive cultivation than the concentration of capital upon the same 
+plot rather than its distribution among several adjoining pieces of land). If soil improvements are of a 
+more permanent nature the artificially increased differential fertility of the soil coincides with its natural 
+differential fertility as soon as the lease expires, and therefore the assessment of the rent corresponds to 
+the determination of the rent on plots of different fertilities in general. On the other hand, in so far as the 
+formation of surplus-profit is determined by the magnitude of operating capital, the amount of rent for a 
+certain amount of operating capital is added to the average rent of the country and thus provision is made 
+for the new tenant to command sufficient capital to continue cultivation in the same intensive manner. 
+
+
+
+In the study of differential rent II, the following points are still to be emphasised. 
+
+First, its basis and point of departure, not just historically, but also in so far as concerns its movements at 
+any given period of time, is differential rent I, that is, the simultaneous cultivation side by side of Soils of 
+unequal fertility and location; in other words, the simultaneous application, side by side, of unequal 
+portions of the total agricultural capital upon plots of land of unequal quality. 
+
+Historically this is self-evident. In the colonies, colonists have but little capital to invest; the principal 
+production agents are labour and land. Every individual head of family seeks for himself and his kin an 
+independent field of employment alongside his fellow-colonists. This must generally be the case in 
+agriculture proper even under pre-capitalist modes of production. In the case of sheep-herding and 
+cattle-raising, in general, as independent lines of production, exploitation of the soil is more or less 
+common and extensive from the very outset. The capitalist mode of production has for its point of 
+departure former modes of production in which the means of production were, in fact or legally, the 
+property of the tiller himself, in a word, from a handicraft-like pursuit of agriculture. It is in the nature of 
+things that the latter gives way but gradually to the concentration of means of production and their 
+transformation into capital, as against direct producers transformed into wage-labourers. In so far as the 
+capitalist mode of production is manifested here typically, it occurs at first particularly in sheep-herding 
+and cattle-raising. But it is thus not manifested in a concentration of capital upon a relatively small area 
+of land, but in production on a larger scale, economising in the expense of keeping horses, and in other 
+production costs; but, in fact, not by investing more capital in the same land. Furthermore, in accordance 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 40 
+
+with the natural laws of field husbandry, capital — used here, at the same time, in the sense of means of 
+production already produced — becomes the decisive element in soil cultivation when cultivation has 
+reached a certain level of development and the soil has been correspondingly exhausted. So long as the 
+tilled area is small in comparison with the untilled, and so long as the soil strength has not been 
+exhausted (and this is the case when cattle-raising and meat consumption prevail in the period before 
+agriculture proper and plant nutrition have become dominant), the new developing mode of production is 
+opposed to peasant production mainly in the extensiveness of the land being tilled for a capitalist, in 
+other words, again in the extensive application of capital to larger areas of land. It should therefore be 
+remembered from the outset that differential rent I is the historical basis which serves as a point of 
+departure. On the other hand, the movement of differential rent II at any given moment occurs only 
+within a sphere which is itself but the variegated basis of differential rent I. 
+
+Secondly, in the differential rent in form II, the differences in distribution of capital (and ability to obtain 
+credit) among tenants are added to the differences in fertility. In manufacturing proper, each line of 
+business rapidly develops its own minimum volume of business and a corresponding minimum of 
+capital, below which no individual business can be conducted successfully. In the same way, each line of 
+business develops a normal average amount of capital above this minimum, which the bulk of producers 
+should, and do, command. A larger volume of capital can produce extra profit; a smaller volume does not 
+so much as yield the average profit. The capitalist mode of production spreads in agriculture but slowly 
+and unevenly, as may be observed in England, the classic land of the capitalist mode of production in 
+agriculture. In so far as the free importation of grain does not exist, or its effect is but limited because the 
+volume is small, producers working inferior soil, and thus under worse than average conditions of 
+production, determine the market-price. A large portion of the total mass of capital invested in 
+husbandry, and in general available to it, is in their hands. 
+
+It is true that the peasant, for example, expends much labour on his small plot of land. But it is labour 
+isolated from objective social and material conditions of productivity, labour robbed and stripped of 
+these conditions. 
+
+This circumstance enables the actual capitalist tenants to appropriate a portion of surplus-profit — a fact 
+which would not obtain, at least so far as this point is concerned, if the capitalist mode of production 
+were as evenly developed in agriculture as in manufacture. 
+
+Let us first consider just the formation of surplus-profit with differential rent II, without for the present 
+bothering about the conditions under which the transformation of this surplus-profit into ground-rent may 
+take place. 
+
+It is then evident that differential rent II is merely differently expressed differential rent I, but identical to 
+it in substance. The variation in fertility of various soil types exerts its influence in the case of differential 
+rent I only in so far as unequal results are attained by capitals invested in the soil, i.e., the amount of 
+products obtained either with respect to equal magnitudes of capital, or proportionate amounts. Whether 
+this inequality takes place for various capitals invested successively in the same land or for capitals 
+invested in several plots of differing soil type — this can change nothing in the difference in fertility nor 
+in its product and can therefore change nothing in the formation of differential rent for the more 
+productively invested portions of capital. It is still the soil which, now as before, shows different fertility 
+with the same investment of capital, save that here the same soil performs for a capital successively 
+invested in different portions what various kinds of soil do in the case of differential rent I for different 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 40 
+
+equal portions of social capital invested in them. 
+
+If the same capital of £10, which is shown in Table I to be invested in the form of independent capitals of 
+£2i/2 each by various tenants in each acre of the four soil types A, B, C and D, were instead successively 
+invested in one and the same acre D, so that the first investment yielded 4 qrs, the second 3, the third 2, 
+and the fourth 1 qr (or in the reverse order), then the price of the quarter furnished by the least productive 
+capital, namely = £3, would not yield any differential rent, but would determine the price of production, 
+so long as the supply of wheat whose price of production is £3 were needed. And since our assumption is 
+that the capitalist mode of production prevails, so that the price of £3 includes the average profit made by 
+a capital of £2 1/2 generally, the other three portions of £2 1/2 each will yield surplus-profit in accordance 
+with the difference in output, since this output is not sold at its own price of production, but at the price 
+of production of the least productive investment of £2 1/2; the latter investment does not yield any rent and 
+the price of its products is determined by the general law of prices of production. The formation of 
+surplus-profit would be the same as in Table I. 
+
+Once again it is seen here that differential rent II presupposes differential rent I. The minimum output 
+obtained from a capital of £2i/2, i.e., from the worst soil, is here assumed to be 4 qr. Assumed, also, is 
+that aside from the £2 1/2 which yield 4 qrs and for which he pays a differential rent of 3 qrs, the tenant 
+operating with soil type D invests in this same soil £2i/2 which yield only 1 qr, like the same capital upon 
+the worst soil A. This would be an investment of capital which does not yield rent, since it returns to him 
+only average profit. There would be no surplus-profit which could be transformed into rent. On the other 
+hand, this decreasing yield of the second investment of capital in D would have no influence on the rate 
+of profit. It would be the same as though £2i/2 had been invested anew in an additional acre of soil type 
+A, a circumstance which would in no way affect the surplus-profit and, therefore, the differential rent of 
+soils A, B, C and D. But for the tenant, this additional investment of £2i/2 in D would have been quite as 
+profitable as, in accordance with our assumption, the investment of the original £2i/2 per acre of D, 
+although the latter yields 4 qrs. Furthermore, if two other investments of £2i/2 each should yield an 
+additional output of 3 qrs and 2 qrs respectively, a decrease would have taken place again compared with 
+the output from the first investment of £2i/2 in D, which yielded 4 qrs, i.e., a surplus-profit of 3 qrs. But it 
+would be merely a decrease in the amount of surplus-profit, and would not affect either the average profit 
+or the regulating price of production. The latter would be the case only if the additional production 
+yielding this decreasing surplus-profit made the production upon A superfluous, and threw acre A out of 
+cultivation. In such case, the decreasing productiveness of the additional investment of capital in acre D 
+would be accompanied by a fall in the price of production, for instance, from £3 to £1 1/2, if acre B would 
+become the rentless soil and regulator of the market-price. 
+
+The output from D would now be = 4+1+3+2 = 10 qrs whereas formerly it was = 4 qrs. But the price per 
+quarter as regulated by B would have fallen to £li/2. The difference between D and B would be = 10-2 = 
+8 qrs, at £li/2 per quarter = £12, whereas the money-rent from D was previously = £9. This should be 
+noted. Calculated per acre, the magnitude of rent would have risen by 33 1/3% in spite of the decreasing 
+rate of surplus-profit on the two additional capitals of £2 1/2 each. 
+
+We see from this to what highly complicated combinations differential rent in general, and in form II 
+coupled with form I, in particular, may give rise, whereas Ricardo, for instance, treats it very one-sidedly 
+and as though it were a simple matter. As in the above case, a fall in the regulating market-price and at 
+the same time rise in rent from fertile soils may take place so that both the absolute product and the 
+absolute surplus-product increase. (In differential rent I, in descending order, the relative surplus-product 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 40 
+
+and thus the rent per acre may increase, although the absolute surplus-product per acre remains constant 
+or even decreases.) But at the same time, productiveness of the investments of capital made successively 
+in the same soil decreases, although a large portion of them falls to the more fertile soils. From a certain 
+point of view — as concerns both output and prices of production — the productivity of labour has risen. 
+But from another point of view, it bas decreased because the rate of surplus-profit and the 
+surplus-product per acre decrease for the various investments of capital in the same land. 
+
+Differential rent II, with decreasing productiveness of successive investments of capital, would 
+necessarily be accompanied by a rise in price of production and an absolute decrease in productivity only 
+if investments of capital could be made in none but the worst soil A. If an acre of A, which with an 
+investment of capital of £2 1/2; yielded 1 qr at a price of production of £3, should only yield a total of 1 1/2 
+qrs with an additional outlay of £2i/2, i.e., a total investment of £5, then the price of production of this 1 1/2 
+qrs = £6 or that of 1 qr = £4. Every decrease in productivity with a growing investment of capital would 
+here mean a relative decrease in output per acre, whereas upon superior soils it would only signify a 
+decrease in the superfluous surplus-product. 
+
+But by the nature of things, with the development of intensive cultivation, i.e., with successive 
+investments of capital in the same soil, this will take place more advantageously, or to a greater extent on 
+better soils. (We are not referring to permanent improvements by which a hitherto useless soil is 
+converted into useful soil.) The decreasing productiveness of successive investments of capital must, 
+therefore, have principally the effect indicated above. The better soil is selected because it affords the 
+best promise that capital invested in it will be profitable, since it contains the most natural elements of 
+fertility, which need but be utilised. 
+
+When, after the abolition of the Corn Laws, cultivation in England became still more intensive, a great 
+deal of former wheat land was devoted to other purposes, particularly cattle pastures, while the fertile 
+land best suited for wheat was drained and otherwise improved. The capital for wheat cultivation was 
+thus concentrated in a more limited area. 
+
+In this case — and all possible surplus rates between the greatest surplus-product of the best soil and the 
+output of rentless soil A coincide here with an absolute, rather than a relative, increase in surplus-product 
+per acre — the newly formed surplus-profit (potential rent) does not represent a portion of a former 
+average profit transformed into rent (a portion of the output in which the average profit formerly was 
+expressed) but an additional surplus-profit, which is transformed out of this form into rent. 
+
+On the other hand, only in such case where the demand for grain increased to such an extent that the 
+market-price rose above the price of production of A, so that the surplus-product of A, B, or any other 
+kind of soil could be supplied only at a price higher than £3 would the decrease in yield from an 
+additional investment of capital in any of the soil types A, B, C and D be accompanied by a rise in price 
+of production and the regulating market-price. In so far as this lasted for a lengthy period of Lime 
+without resulting in the cultivation of additional soil A (of at least the quality of A), or without a cheaper 
+supply resulting from other circumstances, wages would rise in consequence of the increase in the price 
+of bread, everything else being equal, and the rate of profit would fall accordingly. In this case, it would 
+be immaterial, whether the increased demand were satisfied by bringing under cultivation soil of inferior 
+quality than A, or by additional investments of capital, in any of the four types of soil. Differential rent 
+would then increase together with a falling rate of profit. 
+
+This one case, in which the decreasing productiveness of subsequent additional capitals invested in 
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 40 
+
+already cultivated Soils may lead to an increase in price of production, a fall in rate of profit, and the 
+formation of higher differential rent — for the latter would increase under the given circumstances upon 
+all kinds of soil just as though soil of inferior quality than A were regulating the market-price — has been 
+labelled by Ricardo as the only case, the normal case — to which he reduces the entire formation of 
+differential rent II. 
+
+This would also be the case if only type A soil were cultivated and successive investments of capital in it 
+were not accompanied by a proportional increase in produce. 
+
+Here then, in the case of differential rent II, one completely loses sight of differential rent I. 
+
+Except for this case, in which the supply from the cultivated soils is either insufficient and the 
+market-price thus continually higher than the price of production until new additional soil of inferior 
+quality is taken under cultivation, or until the total product from the additional capital invested in various 
+kinds of soil can be supplied only at a higher price of production than that hitherto prevailing — save for 
+this case, the proportional drop in productivity of the additional capitals leaves the regulating price of 
+production and the rate of profit unchanged. For the rest, three additional cases are possible: 
+
+a) If the additional capital invested in any one of the types of soil A, B, C or D yields only the rate of 
+profit determined by the price of production of A, then no surplus-profit, and therefore no potential rent, 
+is formed, any more than there would be if additional type A soil had been cultivated. 
+
+b) If the additional capital yields a larger product, new surplus-profit (potential rent) is, of course, formed 
+provided the regulating price remains the same. This is not necessarily the case; it is not the case, in 
+particular, when this additional production throws soil A out of cultivation and thus out of the sequence 
+of competing soils. In this case, the regulating price of production falls. If this were accompanied by a 
+fall in wages, or if the cheaper product were to enter into the constant capital as one of its elements, the 
+rate of profit would rise. If the increased productivity of the additional capital had taken place upon the 
+best soils C and D, it would depend entirely upon the degree of increased productivity and the amount of 
+additional new capital to what extent the formation of increased surplus-profit (and thus increased rent) 
+would be associated with the fall in prices and the rise in the rate of profit. The latter may also rise 
+without a fall in wages, through a cheapening of the elements of constant capital. 
+
+c) If the additional investment of capital takes place with decreasing surplus-profit, but in such manner 
+that the yield from the additional outlay still leaves a surplus above the yield from the same capital 
+invested in A, a new formation of surplus-profit takes place under all circumstances, unless the increased 
+supply excludes soil A from cultivation. This may take place simultaneously upon D, C, B and A. But, 
+on the other hand, if the worst soil A is squeezed out of cultivation, then the regulating price of 
+production falls and it will depend upon the relation between the reduced price of 1 qr and the increased 
+number of quarters forming surplus-profit whether the surplus-profit expressed in money, and 
+consequently the differential rent, rises or falls. But at any rate, it is noteworthy here that with decreasing 
+surplus-profit from successive investments of capital the price of production may fall, instead of rising, 
+which it seemingly should do at first sight. 
+
+These additional investments of capital with decreasing surplus yields correspond entirely to the case in 
+which, e.g., four new independent capitals of £2i/2 each would be invested in soils with fertility between 
+A and B, B and C, C and D, and yielding I1/2, 2i/3, 22/3, and 3 qrs respectively. Surplus-profit (potential 
+rent) would take shape on all these soils for all four additional capitals, although the rate of 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 40 
+
+surplus-profit, compared with that for the same investment of capital on the correspondingly better soil, 
+would have decreased. And it would be immaterial whether these four capitals were invested in D, etc., 
+or distributed between D and A. 
+
+We now come to an essential difference between the two forms of differential rent. 
+
+Under differential rent I, with constant price of production and constant differences, the average rent per 
+acre, or the average rate of rent on capital, may increase together with the rental. But the average is a 
+mere abstraction. The actual amount of rent, calculated per acre or with respect to capital, remains the 
+same here. 
+
+On the other hand, under the same conditions, the amount of rent calculated per acre may increase 
+although the rate of rent, measured relative to invested capital, remains the same. 
+
+Let us assume that production is doubled by the investment of £5 instead of £2i/2 in each of the soils A, 
+B, C and D, i.e., a total of £20 instead of £10, and that the relative fertility remains unchanged. This 
+would be tantamount to cultivating 2 instead of 1 acre of each of these kinds of soil at the same cost. The 
+rate of profit would remain the same; also its relation to surplus-profit or rent. But if A were now to yield 
+2 qrs, B — 4, C — 6, and D — 8, the price of production would nevertheless remain £3 per quarter because 
+this increase is not due to doubled fertility with the same capital, but to the same proportional fertility 
+with a doubled capital. The two quarters of A would now cost £6 just as 1 qr cost £3 before. The profit 
+would have doubled on all four soils, but only because the invested capital was doubled. In the same 
+proportion, however, the rent would also have been doubled; it would be 2 qrs for B instead of 1, 4 qrs 
+for C instead of 2, and 6 for D instead of 3; and correspondingly, the money-rent for B, C and D would 
+now be £6, £12, and £18 respectively. Like the yield per acre, the rent in money per acre would be 
+doubled, and, consequently, also the price of the land whereby this money-rent is capitalised. Calculated 
+in this manner, the amount of rent in grain and money increases, and thus the price of land, because the 
+standard used in its computation, i.e., the acre, is an area of constant magnitude. On the other hand, 
+calculated as rate of rent on invested capital, there is no change in the proportional amount of rent. The 
+total rental of 36 is to the invested capital of 20 as the rental of 18 is to the invested capital of 10. The 
+same holds true for the ratio of money-rent from each type of soil to the capital invested in it; for 
+instance, in C, £12 rent is to £5 capital as £6 rent was formerly to £2i/2 capital. No new differences arise 
+here between the invested capitals, but new surplus-profits do, merely because the additional capital is 
+invested in one of the rent-bearing soils, or in all of them, with the same proportional yield as previously. 
+If this double investment took place, for example, only in C, the differential rent between C, B and D, 
+calculated with respect to capital, would remain the same: for when the amount of rent obtained from C 
+is doubled, so is the invested capital. 
+
+This shows that the amount of rent in produce and money per acre, and therefore the price of land, may 
+rise, while the price of production, the rate of profit, and the differences remain unchanged (and therefore 
+the rate of surplus-profit or of rent, calculated with respect to capital, remains unchanged). 
+
+The same may take place with decreasing rates of surplus-profit, and therefore of rent, that is, with 
+decreasing productivity of the additional outlays of capital that still yield rent. If the second investments 
+of capital of £2i/3had not doubled the output, but B had yielded only 3 1/2 qrs, C — 5 qrs, and D — 7 qrs, 
+[In the German 1894 edition this reads: 6 qrs. — Ed.] then the differential rent for the second £2 1/3 of 
+capital in B would be only 1/3 qr instead of 1, on C — 1 qr instead of 2 and on D — 2 qrs instead of 3. The 
+proportions between rent and capital for the two successive investments would then be as follows: 
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 40 
+
+First Investment Second Investment 
+
+B: Rent £3, Capital £2 1/2 Rent £1 1/2, Capital £2 1/2 
+
+C: "£6, "£2i/ 2 " £3, " £2 1/2 
+
+D: "£9, "£2i/ 2 " £6, " £2m 
+
+In spite of this decreased rate of relative productivity of capital, and thus of the surplus-profit calculated 
+on capital, the rent in grain and money would have increased on B from 1 to 1 1/3 qrs (from £3 to £4m), on 
+C — from 2 to 3 qrs (from £6 to £9), and on D — from 3 to 5 qrs (from £9 to £15). In this case, the 
+differences for the additional capitals, compared with the capital invested in A, would have decreased, 
+the price of production would have remained the same, but the rent per acre, and consequently the price 
+of land per acre, would have risen. The combinations of differential rent II, which presupposes 
+differential rent I as its basis, will now be taken up. 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 41 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 41 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Part VI 
+
+TRANSFORMATION OF SURPLUS-PROFIT 
+
+INTO GROUND RENT 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 41 
+
+Differential Rent II. 
+
+First Case: Constant Price of Production 
+
+
+
+The assumption here implies that the market-price is regulated as before by the capital invested in the 
+worst soil A. 
+
+I. If the additional capital invested in any one of the rent-bearing soils — B, C, D — produces only as 
+much as the same capital upon soil A, i.e., if it yields only the average profit at the regulating price of 
+production, but no surplus-profit, then the effect upon the rent is nil. Everything remains as before. It is 
+the same as though an arbitrary number of acres of A quality, i.e., of the worst soil, has been added to the 
+cultivated area. 
+
+II. The additional capitals yield additional produce proportional to their magnitude on every one of the 
+various soils; in other words, the volume of production grows according to the specific fertility of each 
+soil type — in proportion to the magnitude of the additional capital, in Chapter XXXIX, we started with 
+the following Table I: 
+
+TABLE I 
+
+
+
+Type of 
+soil 
+
+
+Acres 
+
+
+Capital £ 
+
+
+Profit £ 
+
+
+Price of 
+Prod. £ 
+
+
+Output Qrs 
+
+
+Selling 
+price £ 
+
+
+Proceeds £ 
+
+
+Rent 
+
+
+Rate of 
+
+Surplus 
+
+profit 
+
+
+Qrs 
+
+
+£ 
+
+
+A 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2 
+
+
+1/2 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+B 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2 
+
+
+1/2 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+120% 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2 
+
+
+1/2 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+9 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+240% 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2 
+
+
+1/2 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+12 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+9 
+
+
+360%* 
+
+
+Total 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+
+
+12 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+
+
+30 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch41.htm (1 of 6) [23/08/2000 16:04:35] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 41 
+
+This is now transformed into: 
+TABLE II 
+
+
+
+Type of 
+soil 
+
+
+Acres 
+
+
+Capital £ 
+
+
+Profit £ 
+
+
+Price of 
+Prod. 
+
+
+Output Qrs 
+
+
+Selling 
+price £ 
+
+
+Proceeds £ 
+
+
+Rent 
+
+
+Surplus 
+profit 
+
+
+Qrs 
+
+
+£ 
+
+
+A 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2=5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+B 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2=5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+120% 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2=5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+12 
+
+
+240% 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2=5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+24 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+360%* 
+
+
+Total 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+12 
+
+
+
+
+20 
+
+
+
+
+60 
+
+
+12 
+
+
+36 
+
+
+
+
+
+It is not necessary in this case that the investment of capital be doubled in all soils, as in the table. The 
+law is the same so long as additional capital is invested in one, or several, of the rent-bearing soils, no 
+matter in what proportion. It is only necessary that production should increase upon every soil in the 
+same ratio as the capital. The rent increases here merely in consequence of an increased investment of 
+capital in the soil, and in proportion to this increase. This increase in produce and rent in consequence of, 
+and proportionately to, the increased outlay of capital is just the same as regards the quantity of produce 
+and rent, as when the cultivated area of the rent-bearing plots of land of the same quality had been 
+increased and taken under cultivation with the same outlay of capital as that previously invested in the 
+same types of soils. In the case of Table II, for instance, the result would remain the same, if the 
+additional capital of £2i/2 per acre were invested in an additional acre of B, C and D. 
+
+Furthermore, this assumption does not imply a more productive investment of capital, but only an outlay 
+of more capital upon the same area with the same success as before. 
+
+All relative proportions remain the same here. Of course, if we do not consider the proportional 
+differences, but consider the purely arithmetic ones, then the differential rent may change upon the 
+various soils. Let us, assume, for instance, that additional capital has been invested only in B and D. The 
+difference between D and A is then = 7 qrs whereas previously it was = 3, the difference between B and 
+A = 3 qrs, whereas previously it was = 1; that between C and B = -1, whereas previously it was = +1, etc 
+But this arithmetic difference, which is decisive in differential rent I in so far as it expresses the 
+difference in productivity with equal outlays of capital, is here quite immaterial, because it is merely a 
+consequence of different additional investments of capital, or of no additional investment, while the 
+difference for each equal portion of capital upon the various plots of land remains unchanged. 
+
+III. The additional capitals yield surplus-produce and thus form surplus-profit, but at a decreasing rate, 
+not in proportion to their increase. 
+
+TABLE III 
+
+
+
+Soil 
+
+
+Acres 
+
+
+Capital £ 
+
+
+Profit £ 
+
+
+Price of 
+Prod. £ 
+
+
+Output Qrs 
+
+
+Selling price 
+£ 
+
+
+Proceeds £ 
+
+
+Rent 
+
+
+Rate of 
+Surplus profit 
+
+
+Qrs 
+
+
+£ 
+
+
+A 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2l/2 
+
+
+1/2 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+B 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2i/2+2i/2=5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+2+ 1 1/2=3 1/2 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+IO1/2 
+
+
+1 1/2 
+
+
+4l/2 
+
+
+90% 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2=5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+3+2=5 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+15 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+9 
+
+
+180% 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch41.htm (2 of 6) [23/08/2000 16:04:35] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, 
+
+
+Chapter 41 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+D 
+
+
+1 2 1/2+2 1/2=5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+4+3 1/2=7 1/2 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+22 1/2 
+
+
+5 1/2 
+
+
+16 1/2 
+
+
+330% 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+17 1/2 
+
+
+3 1/2 
+
+
+21 
+
+
+17 
+
+
+
+
+51 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+
+
+
+In the case of this third assumption, it is again immaterial whether the additional second investments of 
+capital are uniformly distributed among the various soils or not; whether the decreasing production of 
+surplus-profit takes place proportionately or not; whether the additional investments of capital are all in 
+the same rent-bearing type of soil, or whether they are distributed equally or unequally among 
+rent-bearing plots of land of varying quality. All these circumstances are immaterial for the law that is to 
+be developed. The only assumption is that additional investments of capital yield surplus-profit upon any 
+one of the rent-bearing soils, but in decreasing proportion to the amount of the increase in capital. The 
+limits of this decrease, in the table before us, are between 4 quarters = £12, the output from the first 
+outlay of capital on the best soil D, and 1 quarter=£3, the output from the same outlay of capital in the 
+worst soil A. The output from the best soil in case of the investment of capital I constitutes the top limit, 
+and the output from the same outlay of capital in the worst soil A, which yields neither rent nor 
+surplus-profit, is the bottom limit of output, which successive investments of capital yield upon any of 
+the soil types producing surplus-profit with decreasing productivity of successive investments of capital. 
+Just as assumption II corresponds to the case in which new plots of the same quality are added from the 
+better soils to the cultivated area, in which the quantity of any one of the cultivated soils is increased, so 
+assumption III corresponds to the case in which additional plots are cultivated whose various degrees of 
+fertility are distributed among soils ranging from D to A, i.e., from the best to the worst soils. If the 
+successive outlays of capital are made exclusively in soil D, they may include the existing differences 
+between D and A, then differences between D and C, and likewise between D and B. If they are all made 
+in soil C, then only differences between C and A, and C and B; if exclusively in B, then only differences 
+between B and A. 
+
+But this is the law: The rent increases absolutely upon all these soils, even if not in proportion to the 
+additional capital invested. 
+
+The rate of surplus-profit, considering both the additional capital and the total capital invested in the soil, 
+decreases; but the absolute magnitude of the surplus-profit increases; just as the decreasing rate of profit 
+on capital in general is, in the main, accompanied by an increase in the absolute amount of profit. Thus 
+the average surplus-profit of a capital invested in B = 90% on the capital, whereas it was = 120% for the 
+first outlay of capital. But the total surplus-profit increases from 1 qr to 1 1/2 qrs, or from £3 to £4i/2. The 
+total rent-considered by itself rather than in relation to the doubled magnitude of the advanced capital — 
+has risen absolutely. The differences in rents from various soils and their relative proportions may vary 
+here; but this variation in differences is a consequence, not cause, of the increase in rents in relation to 
+one another. 
+
+IV. The case in which additional investments of capital in the better soils yield more produce than the 
+original ones requires no further analysis. It goes without saying that under this assumption the rent per 
+acre will increase, and proportionately more than the additional capital, no matter in which kind of soil 
+the outlay has been made. In this case, the additional investment of capital is accompanied by 
+improvements. This includes the cases in which an additional outlay of less capital produces the same or 
+a greater effect than an additional outlay of more capital did formerly. This case is not quite identical 
+with the former one, and the distinction is important in all investments of capital. For instance, if 400 
+yields a profit of 40, and 200 employed in a certain form yields a profit of 40, then the profit has risen 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch41.htm (3 of 6) [23/08/2000 16:04:35] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 41 
+
+from 10% to 20%, and to that extent it is the same as though 50 employed in a more effective form yields 
+a profit of 10 instead of 5. We assume here that the profit is associated with a proportional increase in 
+output. But the difference is that I must double the capital in the one case, whereas in the other, the effect 
+I produce is doubled with the capital employed hitherto. It is by no means the same whether I produce: 1) 
+the same output as before with half as much living and materialised labour, or 2) twice the output as 
+before with the same labour, or 3) four times the former output with twice the labour. In the first case, 
+labour — in a living or materialised form — is released, and may be employed otherwise; the power to 
+dispose of capital and labour increases. The release of capital (and labour) is in itself an augmentation of 
+wealth; it has exactly the same effect as though this additional capital has been obtained by 
+accumulation, but it saves the labour of accumulation. 
+
+Assume that a capital of 100 has produced an output of ten metres. The 100 includes constant capital, 
+living labour and profit. Thus a metre costs 10. Now, if I can produce 20 metres with the same capital of 
+100, then a metre costs 5. If, on the other hand, I can produce 10 metres with a capital of 50, then a metre 
+likewise costs 5, and should the former supply of commodities suffice a capital of 50 is released. If I 
+have to invest a capital of 200 in order to produce 40 metres, then a metre also costs 5. The determination 
+of value, and also the price, does not permit any difference to he discerned here; no more than the 
+amount of output proportional to the outlay of capital. But in the first case, additional capital is saved [In 
+the German 1894 edition this reads: capital is released. — Ed.] to be used perhaps to double production if 
+necessary; in the second case, capital is released, [Ibid.: additional capital is saved. — Ed.] in the third 
+case, the increased output can only be obtained by augmenting the invested capital, although not in the 
+same proportion as when the increased output was to have been supplied by the old productive power. 
+(This belongs in Part I.) 
+
+From the viewpoint of capitalist production, the employment of constant capital is always cheaper than 
+that of variable capital, not as regards increasing the surplus-value, but rather as regards reducing the 
+cost-price — and saving of costs even in the element creating surplus-value, in labour, performs this 
+service for the capitalist and makes profit for him so long as the regulating price of production remains 
+the same. This presupposes, in fact, the development of credit and an abundance of loan capital 
+corresponding to the capitalist mode of production. On the one hand, I employ £100 additional constant 
+capital, if £100 is the output of five labourers during the year; on the other hand, £100 in variable capital. 
+If the rate of surplus-value = 100%, then the value created by the five labourers = £200; on the other 
+hand, the value of £100 constant capital = £100 and as capital it is perhaps = £105, if the interest rate = 
+5%. The same sums of money express very different values, from the viewpoint of the output they 
+produce, depending on whether they are advanced to production as magnitudes of value of constant or of 
+variable capital. Furthermore, as regards the cost of the commodities from the viewpoint of the capitalist, 
+there is also this difference, that of the £100 constant capital only the wear and tear enters into the value 
+of the commodity in so far as this money is invested in fixed capital, whereas the £100 invested in wages 
+must be completely reproduced in the commodity. 
+
+In the case of colonists, and independent small producers in general, who have no access to capital at all 
+or only at high interest rates, that part of the output which represents wages is their revenue, whereas for 
+the capitalist it constitutes an advance of capital. The former, therefore, regards this expenditure of labour 
+as the indispensable prerequisite for the labour-product, which is the thing that interests him above all. 
+But, as regards his surplus-labour, after deducting the necessary labour, it is evidently realised in the 
+surplus-product; and as soon as he can sell the latter, or use it for himself, he looks upon it as something 
+that cost him nothing, because it cost him no materialised labour. It is only the expenditure of the latter 
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch41.htm (4 of 6) [23/08/2000 16:04:35] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 41 
+
+which appears to him as alienation of wealth. Of course, he tries to sell as high as possible; but even a 
+sale below value and below the capitalist price of production still appears to him as profit, unless this 
+profit is anticipated by debts, mortgages, etc. For the capitalist, on the other hand, the investment of both 
+variable and constant capital represents an advance of capital. The relatively larger advance of the latter 
+reduces the cost-price, and in fact the value of the commodities, everything else being equal. Hence, 
+although profit arises only from surplus-labour, consequently only from the employment of variable 
+capital, it may still seem to the individual capitalist that living labour is the most expensive element in his 
+price of production which should be reduced to a minimum before all else. This is but a capitalistically 
+distorted form of the fact that the relatively greater use of congealed labour, as compared with living 
+labour, signifies an increase in the productivity of social labour and a greater social wealth. From the 
+viewpoint of competition, everything appears thus distorted and turned topsy-turvy. 
+
+Assuming prices of production to remain unchanged, the additional investments of capital in the better 
+soils, that is, in all soils from B upward may be made with unaltered, increasing, or decreasing 
+productivity. For soil A this would only be possible under the conditions assumed by us, if productivity 
+remains the same — whereby the land continues to yield no rent — and also if productivity increases; a 
+portion of the capital invested in A would then yield rent, while the remainder would not. But it would be 
+impossible if productivity on A were to decrease, for then the price of production would not remain 
+unchanged, but would rise. Yet in all these cases, i.e., whether the surplus-product yielded by the 
+additional investments is proportional to the latter or is greater or smaller than this proportion — whether, 
+therefore, the rate of surplus-profit on the capital remains constant, rises or falls, when this capital 
+increases, the surplus-product and the corresponding surplus-profit per acre increases, and hence also the 
+potential rent in grain and money. The growth in the mere quantity of surplus-profit or rent, calculated 
+per acre, that is, an increasing quantity calculated on the basis of some constant unit — in the present case 
+on a definite quantity of land such as an acre or a hectare — expresses itself as an increasing ratio. Hence 
+the magnitude of the rent, calculated per acre, increases under such circumstances simply in consequence 
+of the increase in the capital invested in the land. This takes place, to be sure, assuming the prices of 
+production remain the same, and, on the other hand, regardless of whether the productivity of the 
+additional capital remains unaltered, or whether it decreases or increases. The latter circumstances 
+modify the range in which the magnitude of rent per acre increases but not the existence of this increase 
+itself. This is a phenomenon peculiar to differential rent II, and distinguishing it from differential rent I. 
+If the additional investments of capital were made successively in space, side by side in new additional 
+Soil of corresponding quality, rather than successively in time in the same soil, the quantity of the rental 
+would have increased, and, as previously shown, so would the average rent from the total cultivated area, 
+but not the magnitude of the rent per acre. Given the same result so far as quantity and value of total 
+production and surplus-product are concerned, the concentration of capital upon a smaller area of land 
+increases the amount of rent per acre, whereas under the same conditions, its dispersion over a larger 
+area, all other conditions being equal, does not produce this effect. But the more the capitalist mode of 
+production develops, the more does the concentration of capital upon the same area of land develop, and, 
+therefore, the more does the rent, calculated per acre, increase. Consequently, given two countries in 
+which the prices of production are identical, the differences in soil type are identical, and the same 
+amount of capital is invested — but in the one country more in the form of successive outlays upon a 
+limited area of land, whereas in the other more in the form of co-ordinated outlays upon a larger area — 
+then the rent per acre, and thereby the price of land, would be higher in the first country and lower in the 
+second, although the total rent would be the same for both countries. The difference in magnitude of rent 
+could thus not be explained here to be a result of a difference in the natural fertility of the various soils, 
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch41.htm (5 of 6) [23/08/2000 16:04:35] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 41 
+
+nor a result of a difference in the quantity of employed labour, but solely a result of different ways in 
+which the capital is invested. 
+
+When we refer to surplus-product here, this should always be understood to mean that aliquot part of the 
+output which represents surplus-profit. Ordinarily, we mean by excess product or surplus-product that 
+portion of the output which represents the total surplus-value, or in some cases that portion which 
+represents the average profit. The specific meaning which this term assumes in the case of rent-bearing 
+capital gives rise to misunderstanding, as previously pointed out. 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 42 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch41.htm (6 of 6) [23/08/2000 16:04:35] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 42S 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Part VI 
+
+TRANSFORMATION OF SURPLUS-PROFIT 
+
+INTO GROUND RENT 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 42 
+
+Differential Rent II. 
+
+Second Case: Falling Price of Production 
+
+
+
+The price of production may fall when additional investments of capital take place with an unaltered, falling, or rising rate of 
+productivity. 
+
+I. Productivity of the additional investment of capital remains the same. 
+
+In this case, the assumption, therefore, is that the output increases proportionally to the capital invested in the various soils and in 
+accordance with their respective qualities. This means for constant differences in soils that the surplus-product increases in 
+proportion to the increased investment of capital. This case, then, excludes any additional investment of capital in Soil A which 
+might affect the differential rent. For this soil, the rate of surplus-profit = 0; thus, it remains = since we have assumed that the 
+productiveness of the additional capital, and therefore the rate of surplus-profit, remain the same. 
+
+But under these conditions the regulating price of production can only fall, because it is the price of production of the next best 
+soil, of B, or any better soil than A, rather than that of A, which becomes the regulator; so that the capital is withdrawn from A, or 
+perhaps from A and B if the price of production of C should become the regulating one, and thus all soils inferior to C would be 
+eliminated from the competition among grain-producing soils, The prerequisite for this is, under the assumed conditions, that the 
+additional yield from the additional investments of capital satisfy the demand, so that the output from the inferior soil A, etc., 
+become superfluous for the re-establishment of a full supply. 
+
+Thus, let us take, for instance, Table II, but in such a way that 18 qrs instead of 20 satisfy the demand. Soil A would drop out; B * 
+and its price of production of 30 shillings per quarter would become regulating. The differential rent then assumes the following 
+form: 
+
+TABLE IV 
+
+
+
+Type of 
+soil 
+
+
+Acres 
+
+
+Capital £ 
+
+
+Profit £ 
+
+
+Price of 
+Prod. 
+
+
+Output Qrs 
+
+
+Selling price 
+per qr £ 
+
+
+Proceeds £ 
+
+
+Rent 
+
+
+Rate of Surplus 
+Profit 
+
+
+In Grain 
+Qrs 
+
+
+In Money £ 
+
+
+B 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+ll/2 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+0% 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+ll/2 
+
+
+9 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+60% 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+ll/2 
+
+
+12 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+120%* 
+
+
+Total 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+15 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+
+
+27 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+9 
+
+
+
+
+
+[* In the German 1894 edition this reads: D.-Ed.] 
+
+Compared with Table II, the ground-rent would hence have fallen from £36 to £9, and in grain from 12 qrs to 6 qrs; total output 
+would have fallen only by 2 qrs, from 20 to 18. The rate of surplus-profit calculated on the capital would have fallen to one-third, 
+i.e., from 180% to 60%. [Ibid.: one-half, from 180% to 90%.-Ed.] Thus, the fall in the price of production is accompanied here by 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch42.htm (1 of 8) [23/08/2000 16:04:41] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 42S 
+a decrease of the rent in grain and money. 
+
+Compared with Table I, there is merely a decrease in money-rent; the rent in grain is in both cases 6 qrs; but in the one case it = 
+£18, and in the other £9. For Soil C, [Ibid.: for Soil C and D.-Ed.] the rent in grain, compared with Table I, has remained the same. 
+In fact, it is owing to the additional production resulting from the uniformly acting additional capital that the yield from A has been 
+excluded from the market, and thereby soil A has been eliminated as a competing producing agent, and it is owing to this fact that 
+a new differential rent I has been formed in which the better soil B plays the same role as did formerly the inferior soil A. 
+
+Consequently, on the one hand, the rent from B has disappeared; on the other hand, nothing has been altered in the differences 
+between B, C and D by the investment of additional capital — in accordance with our assumption. For this reason, that part of the 
+output which is transformed into rent is reduced. 
+
+If the above result — the satisfaction of the demand with A excluded — had been accomplished, perchance, by the investment of 
+more than double the capital in C or D, or in both, then the matter would assume a different aspect. For example, if the third 
+investment of capital were made in C: 
+
+TABLE IVa 
+
+
+
+Type of 
+soil 
+
+
+Acres 
+
+
+Capital £ 
+
+
+Profit £ 
+
+
+Price of 
+Prod. £ 
+
+
+Output Qrs 
+
+
+Selling price £ 
+
+
+Proceeds £ 
+
+
+Rent 
+
+
+Rate of Surplus 
+Profit 
+
+
+In Grain 
+Qrs 
+
+
+In Money £ 
+
+
+B 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+1 1/2 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+0% 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+7 1/2 
+
+
+1 1/2 
+
+
+9 
+
+
+9 
+
+
+1 1/2 
+
+
+13 1/2 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+4 1/2 
+
+
+60% 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1 1/2 
+
+
+12 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+120%* 
+
+
+Total 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+17 1/2 
+
+
+3 1/2 
+
+
+21 
+
+
+21 
+
+
+
+
+31 1/2 
+
+
+7 
+
+
+10 1/2 
+
+
+
+
+
+In this case, compared with Table IV, the output from C has risen from 6 to 9 qrs, the surplus-product from 2 to 3 qrs, and the 
+money-rent from £3 to £4i/2. Compared with Table II, where the latter was £12, and Table I, where it was £6, the money-rent has, 
+on the other hand, decreased. The total rental in grain = 7 qrs and has fallen compared with Table II (12 qrs) and risen compared 
+with Table I (6 qrs); in money (£10i/2) it has fallen compared with both (£18 and £36). 
+
+If the third investment of capital of £2 1/2 had been employed on soil B, it would indeed have altered the quantity of production, but 
+would not have affected the rent, since, according to our assumption, the successive investments do not produce any differences 
+upon the same soil and soil B does not yield any rent. 
+
+If we assume, on the other hand, that the third investment of capital takes place upon D instead of C, we have the following, Table 
+IVb: 
+
+
+
+Type of 
+soil 
+
+
+Acres 
+
+
+Capital £ 
+
+
+Profit £ 
+
+
+Price of 
+Prod. £ 
+
+
+Output Qrs 
+
+
+Selling price £ 
+
+
+, . Rent 
+
+
+Rate of Surplus 
+Profit 
+
+
+In Grain Qr In Money £ 
+
+
+B 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+I1/2 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+0% 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+I1/2 
+
+
+9 2 3 
+
+
+60% 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+7 1/2 
+
+
+1 1/2 
+
+
+9 
+
+
+12 
+
+
+I1/2 
+
+
+18 6 9 
+
+
+120%* 
+
+
+Total 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+17 1/2 
+
+
+3 1/2 
+
+
+21 
+
+
+22 
+
+
+
+
+33 8 12 
+
+
+
+
+
+Here the total product is 22 qrs, more than double that of Table I, although the invested capital is only £17i/2 as against £10, that is, 
+not twice the amount. The total product is also larger by 2 qrs than that of Table II, although the invested capital in the latter is 
+larger — namely, £20. 
+
+Compared with Table I, the rent in grain from soil D has increased from 3 [In the German 1894 edition this reads: 2-Ed.] to 6 qrs, 
+whereas the money-rent, £9, has remained the same. Compared with Table II, the grain-rent from D is the same, namely, 6 qrs, but 
+the money-rent has fallen from £18 to £9. 
+
+Comparing the total rents, the grain-rent from Table IVb = 8 qrs is larger than that from Table I = 6 qrs and than that from Table 
+IVa = 7 qrs; but it is smaller than that from Table 11 = 12 qrs. The money-rent from Table IVb = £12 is larger than that from Table 
+IVa = £10i/2 and smaller than that from Table 1 = £18 and that from Table II = £36. 
+
+In order that the total rental may, under the conditions of Table IVb (with the elimination of rent from B), be equal to that of Table 
+I, we need £6 more of surplus-product, that is, 4 qrs at £1 1/2, which is the new price of production. We then have a total rental of 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch42.htm (2 of 8) [23/08/2000 16:04:41] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 42S 
+
+£18 again as in Table I. The magnitude of the required additional capital will vary according to whether we invest it in C or D, or 
+divide it between the two. 
+
+On C, £5 capital yields 2 qrs of surplus-product; consequently, £10 additional capital yields 4 qrs of additional surplus-product. On 
+D, £5 additional capital would suffice to produce 4 qrs of additional grain-rent under the conditions assumed here, namely that the 
+productivity of the additional investments of capital remains the same. We should then obtain the following results: 
+
+TABLE IVc 
+
+
+
+Type of soil 
+
+
+Acres 
+
+
+Capital £ 
+
+
+Proft £ 
+
+
+Price of Prod. £ 
+
+
+Output Qrs 
+
+
+Selling price £ 
+
+
+Proceeds £ 
+
+
+Rent 
+
+
+Rate of Surplus Profit 
+
+
+Qrs £ 
+
+
+B 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+1 1/2 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+
+
+
+0% 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+15 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+1 1/2 
+
+
+27 
+
+
+6 9 
+
+
+60% 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+7 1/2 
+
+
+ll/2 
+
+
+9 
+
+
+12 
+
+
+1 1/2 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+6 9 
+
+
+120%* 
+
+
+Total 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+27 1/2 
+
+
+5 1/2 
+
+
+33 
+
+
+34 
+
+
+
+
+51 
+
+
+12 18 
+
+
+
+
+TABLE IVd 
+
+
+Type of soil 
+
+
+Acres 
+
+
+Capital £ 
+
+
+Proft £ 
+
+
+Price of Prod. £ 
+
+
+Output Qrs 
+
+
+Selling price £ 
+
+
+Proceeds £ 
+
+
+Rent 
+
+
+Rate of Surplus Profit 
+
+
+Qrs £ 
+
+
+B 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+1 1/2 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+
+
+
+0% 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1 1/2 
+
+
+9 
+
+
+2 3 
+
+
+60% 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+12172 
+
+
+2 1/2 
+
+
+15 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+1 1/2 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+10 15 
+
+
+120%* 
+
+
+Total 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+22i/2 
+
+
+4 1/2 
+
+
+27 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+
+
+45 
+
+
+12 18 
+
+
+
+
+
+The total money rental would be exactly one-half of what it was in Table II, where the additional capitals were invested at constant 
+prices of production. 
+
+The most important thing is to compare the above tables with Table I. 
+
+We find that while the price of production has fallen by one-half, i.e., from 60 shillings to 30 shillings per quarter, the total money 
+rental has remained the same, namely = £18, and the grain-rent has correspondingly doubled from 6 to 12 qrs. Upon B the rent has 
+disappeared; upon C the money-rent has risen by one-half in IVc, but has fallen by one-half in IVd; upon D in IVc, it has remained 
+the same, = £9, and has risen from £9 to £15 in IVd. The production has risen from 10 to 34 qrs in IVe, and to 30 qrs in IVd; the 
+profit from £2 to £5 1/2 in IVc and to £4 in IVd. The total investment of capital has risen in the one case from £10 to £27 1/2, and in 
+the other from £10 to £22i/2; i.e., in both cases it has more than doubled. The rate of rent, that is, the rent calculated on the invested 
+capital, is in all tables from IV to IVd everywhere the same for each kind of soil — which was already implied in the assumption 
+that the rate of productivity for the two successive investments of capital remains the same for each soil type. But compared with 
+Table I this rate has fallen, both for the average of all kinds of soil and for each one of them individually. In Table I it was = 180% 
+on an average, whereas in IVc it = (18/27 1/2) x 100 = 65 5/11 % and in IVd it = (18/22 1/2) x 100 = 80%. The average money-rent per 
+acre has risen. Formerly, in Table I, its average was £4i/2 per acre from all four acres, whereas in IVc and IVd it is £6 per acre upon 
+the three acres. Its average upon the rent-bearing land was formerly £6, whereas now it is £9 per acre. Hence the money -value of 
+the rent per acre has risen and now represents twice as much grain as it did formerly; but the 12 qrs of grain-rent are now less than 
+one-half of the total output of 34 and 30 [In the German 1894 edition this reads: 33 and 21 -Ed.] qrs respectively, whereas in Table 
+I the 6 qrs represent 3/5 of the total output of 10 qrs. Consequently, although the rent as an aliquot part of the total output has fallen, 
+and has also fallen when calculated on the invested capital, its money-value calculated per acre has risen, and still more its value as 
+a product. If we take soil D in Table IVd, we find that the price of production corresponding to the capital outlay here = £15, of 
+which £12i/2 is invested capital. The money-rent = £15. In Table I, for the same soil D, the price of production was = £3, the 
+invested capital = £2i/2, and the money-rent = £9; that is, the latter was three times the price of production and almost four times 
+the capital. In Table IVd, the money-rent for D, £15, is exactly equal to the price of production and larger than the capital by only 
+1/5 . Nevertheless, the money-rent per acre is 2/3 larger, namely, £15 instead of £9. In Table I, the grain-rent of 3 qrs = 3/4 of the total 
+product of 4 qrs; in Table IVd it is 10 qrs, or one-half the total product (20 qrs) per acre of D. This shows that the money-value and 
+grain value of the rent per acre may rise, although it constitutes a smaller aliquot part of the total yield and has fallen in proportion 
+to the invested capital. 
+
+The value of the total product in Table 1 = £30; the rent = £18, or more than one-half of it. The value of the total product in IVd = 
+£45, of which the rent = £18, or less than one-half. 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch42.htm (3 of 8) [23/08/2000 16:04:41] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 42S 
+
+Now, the reason why in spite of the fall in price by £1 1/2 per quarter, i.e. , a fall of 50%, and in spite of the reduction in competing 
+soil from 4 to 3 acres, the total money -rent remains the same and the total grain-rent is doubled, while, calculated per acre, both the 
+grain-rent and money-rent rise, is that more quarters of surplus-product are produced. The price of grain falls by 50%, and the 
+surplus-product increases by 100%. But in order to obtain this result, the total production under the conditions assumed by us must 
+be trebled, and the investment of capital in the superior soils must be more than doubled. At what rate the latter must increase 
+depends in the first place upon the distribution of additional capital investments among the better and best soils, always assuming 
+that the productivity of the capital invested in each soil type increases proportionately to its magnitude. 
+
+If the fall in price of production were smaller, less additional capital would be required to produce the same money -rent. If the 
+supply required to throw soil A out of cultivation-and this depends not merely upon the output per acre of A, but also upon the 
+share held by A in the entire cultivated area — thus, if the supply required for this purpose were larger, and thereby also the amount 
+of additional invested capital required in soils better than A, then, other circumstances remaining the same, the money and grain 
+rents would have increased still more, although soil B would have ceased yielding money and grain rents. If the capital eliminated 
+from A had been = £5, the tables to be compared for this case would be tables II and IVd. The total product would have increased 
+from 20 to 30 qrs. The money-rent would be only half as large, or £48 instead of £36; the grain-rent would be the same, namely = 
+12 qrs. 
+
+If a total product of 44 qrs = £66 could be produced upon D with a capital = £27 1/2 — corresponding to the old rate for D, 4 qrs per 
+£2i/2 capital — then the total rental would once more reach the level attained in Table II, and the table would appear as follows: 
+
+
+
+Type of Soil Capital £ Output Qrs Grain-Rent Qrs Money-Rent £ 
+
+
+B 5 4 
+
+
+C 5 6 2 3 
+
+
+D 27 1/2 44 22 33 
+
+
+Total 37 1/2 54 24 36 
+
+
+
+The total production would be 54 qrs as against 20 qrs in Table II, and the money-rent would be the same, = £36. But the total 
+capital would be £37 1/2, whereas in Table II it was = 20. The total invested capital would be double almost, while production would 
+be nearly treble; the grain-rent would be double and the money-rent would remain the same. Hence, if the price falls-while 
+productivity remains the same — as a result of the investment of additional money-capital in the better soils which yield rent, that 
+is, all soils better than A, then the total capital has a tendency not to increase at the same rate as production and grain-rent; thus the 
+increase in grain-rent may compensate for the loss in money-rent due to the falling price. The same law also manifests itself in that 
+the invested capital must be proportionately larger as more is invested in C than D, i.e., in soils yielding less rent rather than in 
+soils yielding more rent. The point is simply this: in order that the money -rent may remain the same or rise, a definite additional 
+quantity of surplus-product must be produced, and the greater the fertility of the soils yielding surplus-product, the less capital this 
+requires. If the difference between B and C, and C and D, were still greater, still less additional capital would be required. The 
+specific proportion is determined by 1) the ratio of fall in price, in other words, by the difference between soil B, which does not 
+yield rent now, and soil A, which formerly was the soil not yielding rent; 2) the ratio of the differences between the soils better 
+than B upwards; 3) the amount of newly invested additional capital, and 4) its distribution among the soils of varying quality. 
+
+In fact, we see that this law merely expresses what was already ascertained in the first case: When the price of production is given, 
+no matter what its magnitude, the rent may increase as a result of additional capital investment. For owing to the elimination of A, 
+we now have a new differential rent I with B as the worst Soil and £1 1/2 per quarter as the new price of production. This applies to 
+Table IV as well as to Table II. It is the same law, except that our point of departure is soil B instead of A, and our price of 
+production is taken as £1 1/2 instead of £3. 
+
+The important thing here is this: To the extent that so much and so much additional capital was necessary in order to withdraw the 
+capital from soil A and create the supply without it, we find that this may be accompanied by an unaltered, rising, or falling rent 
+per acre, if not from all plots of land then at least from some, and so far as the average of the cultivated plots is concerned. We 
+have seen that grain-rent and money-rent do not maintain a uniform relation to one another. It is merely due to tradition that 
+grain-rent is still of any importance in economics. One might demonstrate equally well that, e.g., & manufacturer can buy much 
+more of his yarn with his profit of £5 than he could formerly with a profit of £10. It shows at any rate, that messieurs landlords, 
+when they are simultaneously owners or shareholders in manufacturing establishments, sugar-refineries, distilleries, etc., may in 
+their capacity as producers of their own raw materials still make a considerable profit when the money-rent is falling. \ 1 1 
+
+II. Decreasing rate of productivity of the additional capital. 
+
+This introduces nothing new into the problem, in so far as the price of production may also fall in this case, as in the case just 
+considered, only when additional investments of capital in better soils than A render the output from A superfluous and the capital 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch42.htm (4 of 8) [23/08/2000 16:04:41] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 42S 
+
+is therefore withdrawn from A, or A is employed for the production of other products. This case has been exhaustively discussed 
+above. It was shown that the rent in grain and money per acre may increase, decrease, or remain unchanged. 
+
+For convenience in making comparisons we reproduce the following table: 
+
+TABLE IV 
+
+
+
+Type of 
+Soil 
+
+
+Acres 
+
+
+Capital £ 
+
+
+Profit £ 
+
+
+Price of Production.per Qr 
+
+
+Output Qrs 
+
+
+Grain-Rent Qrs 
+
+
+Money-Rent Qrs 
+
+
+Rate of Surplus 
+Profit 
+
+
+A 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2 
+
+
+1/2 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+B 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2 
+
+
+1/2 
+
+
+1 1/2 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+120% 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2 
+
+
+1/2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+240% 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2 
+
+
+1/2 
+
+
+3/4 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+9 
+
+
+360% 
+
+
+Total 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+10 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+180% average 
+
+
+
+Now let us assume that a quantity of 16 qrs supplied by B, C, and D at a decreasing rate of productivity suffices to exclude A from 
+cultivation. In such case, Table III is transformed into the following: 
+
+TABLE V 
+
+
+
+Type of 
+Soil 
+
+
+Acres 
+
+
+Investment of 
+Capital £ 
+
+
+Profit £ 
+
+
+Output Qrs 
+
+
+Selling 
+price £ 
+
+
+Proceeds £ 
+
+
+Grain-Rent 
+Qrs 
+
+
+Money-Rent 
+£ 
+
+
+Rate of 
+
+Surplus 
+
+Profit 
+
+
+B 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2+1 1/2=3 1/2 
+
+
+I5/7 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+C 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+3+2=5 
+
+
+I5/7 
+
+
+84/7 
+
+
+I1/2 
+
+
+24/7 
+
+
+51 3/7% 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+4+3 1/2=7 1/2 
+
+
+I5/7 
+
+
+12 6/7 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+6 6/7 
+
+
+137i/7%** 
+
+
+Total 
+
+
+2*** 
+
+
+15 
+
+
+
+
+16 
+
+
+
+
+27 3/7 
+
+
+5 1/2 
+
+
+93/7 
+
+
+942/7% 
+
+average**** 
+
+
+
+[* In the German 1894 edition this reads 51 2/5. — Ed.] 
+
+[** Ibid. 137i/5 -Ed] 
+
+[*** Ibid: 4. - Ed.] 
+
+[**** Here, as well as in tables VI, VII, VII I, IX and X the land which yields no rent is left out of consideration. 
+
+
+
+Ed.] 
+
+
+
+Here, at a decreasing rate of; productivity of the additional capital, and a varying decrease for the various soil types, the regulating 
+price of production has fallen from £3 to £1 5/7 . The investment of capital has risen by one-half-from £10 to £15. The money-rent 
+has fallen by almost one-half-from £18 to £9 3/7 , but the grain-rent has fallen by only 1/12 — from 6 qrs to 5 1/2 qrs. The total output 
+has risen from 10 to 16, or by 60%. The grain-rent constitutes a little more than one-third of the total product. The advanced capital 
+is to the money -rent as 15 : 9 3/7 , whereas formerly this ratio was 10 : 18. 
+
+III. Rising rate of productivity of the additional capital. 
+
+This differs from Variant I at the beginning of this chapter, where the price of production falls while the rate of productivity 
+remains the same, merely in that when a given amount of additional produce is required to exclude soil A this occurs here more 
+quickly. 
+
+The effect may vary in accordance with the distribution of investments among the various soils for a falling, as well as an 
+increasing, productivity of the additional capital investments. In so far as this varying effect balances out the differences, or 
+accentuates them, the differential rent of the better soils, and thereby the total rental too, will fall or rise, as was already the case in 
+differential rent I. In other respects, everything depends upon the magnitude of the land area and capital excluded together with A, 
+and upon the relative magnitude of advanced capital required with a rising productivity in order to produce the additional output to 
+meet the demand. 
+
+The only point worthwhile analysing here, and which really takes us back to the investigation of the way in which this differential 
+profit is transformed into differential rent, is the following: 
+
+In the first case, where the price of production remains the same the additional capital which may be invested in soil A does not 
+affect the differential rent as such, since soil A, as before, does not yield any rent, the price of its produce remains the same, and it 
+continues to regulate the market. 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch42.htm (5 of 8) [23/08/2000 16:04:41] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 42S 
+
+In the second case, Variant I, where the price of production falls while the rate of productivity remains the same, soil A will 
+necessarily be excluded, and still more so in Variant II (falling price of production with falling rate of productivity), since 
+otherwise the additional capital invested in soil A would have had to raise the price of production. But here, in Variant III of the 
+second case, where the price of production falls because the productivity of the additional capital rises, this additional capital may 
+under certain circumstances be invested in soil A as well as in the better soils. 
+
+Let us assume that when invested in soil A an additional capital of £2i/2 produces 1 1/5 qrs instead of 1 qr. 
+
+TABLE VI 
+
+
+
+Type of Soil 
+
+
+Acres 
+
+
+Capital £ 
+
+
+Profit £ 
+
+
+Price of Production £ 
+
+
+Output Qrs 
+
+
+Selling price £ 
+
+
+, „ Rent 
+
+
+Rate of Surplus 
+Profit 
+
+
+"Qrs £ 
+
+
+A 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1+1 1/5=2 1/5 
+
+
+28/11 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+0% 
+
+
+B 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+2+22/5=42/5 
+
+
+28/11 
+
+
+12 2i/5 6 
+
+
+120% 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+3+33/5=63/5 
+
+
+28/11 
+
+
+18 42/5 12 
+
+
+240% 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+4+44/5=84/5 
+
+
+28/11 
+
+
+24 63/5 18 
+
+
+360% 
+
+
+
+
+4 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+24 
+
+
+22 
+
+
+
+
+60 13 1/5 36 
+
+
+240% 
+
+
+
+Aside from being compared with the basic Table I, this table should be compared with Table II, where a two-fold investment of 
+capital is associated with a constant productivity, proportional to the investment of capital. 
+
+In accordance with our assumption, the regulating price of production falls. If it were to remain constant, = £3, then the worst soil 
+A, which used to yield no rent with an investment of only £2 1/2, would now yield rent without worse soil being brought under 
+cultivation. This would have occurred due to an increase in the productivity of this soil, but only for a part of the capital, not for the 
+original capital invested. The first £3 of production price yield 1 qr; the second yield 1 1/5 qrs; but the entire output of 2 1/5 qrs is 
+now sold at its average price. Since the rate of productivity increases with the additional investment of capital, this presupposes an 
+improvement. The latter may consist of a general increase in capital invested per acre (more fertiliser, more mechanised labour, 
+etc.), or it may be that only through this additional capital it is at all possible to bring about a qualitatively different more 
+productive investment of the capital. In both cases, the investment of £5 of capital per acre yields an output of 2 1/5 qrs, whereas the 
+investment of one-half of this capital, i.e. , £2 1/5 , yields only 1 qr of produce. The produce from soil A could, regardless of 
+transient market conditions, only continue to be sold at a higher price of production instead of at the new average price, as long as 
+a considerable area of type A soil continued to be cultivated with a capital of only £2 1/2 per acre. But as soon as the new relation of 
+£5 of capital per acre, and thereby the improved management, becomes universal, the regulating price of production would have to 
+fall to £2 8/1 1 . The difference between the two portions of capital would disappear, and then, in fact, the cultivation of an acre of 
+soil A with a capital of only £2 1/2 would be abnormal, i.e., would not correspond to the new conditions of production. It would then 
+no longer be a difference between the yields from different portions of capital invested in the same acre, but between a sufficient 
+and an insufficient total investment of capital per acre. This shows, first of all, that insufficient capital in the hands of a large 
+number of tenant farmers (it must be a large number, for a small number would simply be compelled to sell below their price of 
+production) produces the same effect as a differentiation of the soils themselves in a descending line. The inferior cultivation of 
+inferior soil increases the rent from superior soils; it may even lead to rent being yielded from better cultivated soil of equally poor 
+quality, which would otherwise not be yielded. It shows, secondly, that differential rent, in so far as it arises from successive 
+investments of capital in the same total area, resolves itself in reality into an average, in which the effects of the various 
+investments of capital are no longer recognisable and distinguishable, and therefore do not result in rent being yielded from the 
+worst soil, but rather: 1) make the average price of the total yield for, say, an acre of A, the new regulating price and 2) appear as 
+alteration in the total quantity of capital per acre required under the new conditions for the adequate cultivation of the soil; and in 
+which the individual successive investments of capital, as well as their respective effects, will appear indistinguishably blended 
+together. It is exactly the same with the individual differential rents from the superior soils. In each case, they are determined by 
+the difference between the average output from the soil in question and the output from the worst soil at the increased capital 
+investment — which has now become normal. 
+
+No soil yields any produce without an investment of capital. This is the case even for simple differential rent, differential rent I; 
+when it is said that one acre of soil A, which regulates the price of production, yields so much and so much produce at such and 
+such a price, and that superior soils B, C and D yield so much differential produce, and therefore so much and so much money -rent 
+at the regulating price of production, it is always assumed that a definite amount of capital is invested which, under the prevailing 
+conditions of production, is considered normal. In the same way, a certain minimum capital is required for every individual branch 
+of industry in order that the commodities may be produced at their price of production. 
+
+If this minimum is altered as a result of successive investments of capital associated with improvements on the same soil, it occurs 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch42.htm (6 of 8) [23/08/2000 16:04:41] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 42S 
+
+gradually. So long as a certain number of acres, say, of A, do not receive this additional working capital, a rent is produced upon 
+the better cultivated acres of A due to the unaltered price of production, and the rent from all superior soils, B, C and D, is 
+increased. But as soon as the new method of cultivation has become general enough to be the normal one, the price of production 
+falls; the rent from the superior plots declines again, and that portion of soil A that does not possess the working capital, which has 
+now become the average, must sell its produce below its individual price of production, i.e., below the average profit. 
+
+In the case of a falling price of production, this also occurs even with decreasing productivity of the additional capital — as soon as 
+the required total product is supplied, in consequence of increased investment of capital, by the superior soils, and thus, e.g., the 
+working capital is withdrawn from A, i.e., A no longer competes in the production of this particular product, e.g., wheat. The 
+quantity of capital which is now required, on an average, to be invested in the better soil B, the new regulator, now becomes 
+normal: and when one speaks of the varying fertility of plots of land, it is assumed that this new normal quantity of capital per acre 
+is employed. 
+
+On the other hand, it is evident that this average investment of capital, say, in England, of £8 per acre prior to 1848, and £12 
+subsequent to that year, will constitute the standard in concluding leases. For the farmer expending more than this, the 
+surplus-profit is not transformed into rent for the duration of the contract. Whether this takes place after expiration of the contract 
+or not will depend upon the competition among the farmers who are in a posit ion to make the same extra capital advance. We are 
+not referring here to such permanent soil improvements that continue to provide the increased output with the same or even with a 
+decreasing outlay of capital. Such improvements, although products of capital, have the same effect as natural differences in the 
+quality of the land. 
+
+We see, then, that a factor comes into consideration in the case of differential rent II which does not appear in the case of 
+differential rent I as such, since the latter can continue to exist independently of any change in the normal investment of capital per 
+acre. It is, on the one hand, the blurring of results from various investments, of capital in regulating soil A, whose output flow 
+simply appears as a normal average output per acre. It is, on the other hand, the change in the normal minimum, or in the average 
+magnitude of invested capital per acre, so that this change appears as a property of the soil. It is, finally, the difference in the 
+manner of transforming surplus-profit into the form of rent. 
+
+Table VI shows, furthermore, compared with tables I and II, that the grain-rent has more than doubled in relation to I, and has 
+increased by 1 1/5 qrs in relation to II; while the money-rent has doubled in relation to I, but has not changed in relation to II. It 
+would have increased considerably if (other conditions remaining the same) more of the additional capital had been allocated to the 
+superior soils, or if on the other band the effect of the additional capital on A had been less appreciable, and thus the regulating 
+average price per quarter from A had been higher. 
+
+If the increase in productiveness by means of additional capital should produce varying results for the various soils, this would 
+produce a change in their differential rents. 
+
+In any case, it has been shown that the rent per acre, for instance with a doubled investment of capital, may not only double, but 
+may more than double — while the price of production falls in consequence of an increased rate of productivity of the additional 
+capital invested, i.e., when this productivity grows at a higher rate than the advanced capital. But it may also fall if the price of 
+production should fall much lower as a result of a more rapid increase in productiveness of soil A. 
+
+Let us assume that the additional investments of capital, for instance in B and C, do not increase the productivity at the same rate 
+as they do for A, so that the proportional differences decrease for B and C and the increase in output does not make up for the fall 
+in price. Then, compared with Table II, the [money] rent from D would remain unchanged, and that from B and C would fall. 
+
+TABLE Via 
+
+
+
+Type of Soil Acres Capital £ Profit £ Output Per Acre Qrs Selling price Proceeds £ Grain-Rent Qrs Money-Rent Qrs 
+
+
+A 1 2i/2+2i/2 1 1+3=4 I1/2 6 
+
+
+B 1 2 1/2+2 1/2 1 2+2 1/2=4 1/2 I1/2 63/4 1/2 3/4 
+
+
+C 1 2i/2+2i/2 1 3+5=8 I1/2 12 4 6 
+
+
+D 1 2i/2+2i/2 1 4+12=16 I1/2 24 12 18 
+
+
+Total 4 20 32 1/2 I61/2 243/4 
+
+
+
+Finally, the money-rent would rise if more additional capital were invested in the superior soils with the same proportional increase 
+in productiveness than in A, or if the additional investments of capital in the superior soils were effective at an increasing rate of 
+productivity. In both cases the differences would increase. 
+
+The money -rent falls when the improvement due to additional investment of capital reduces the differences completely, or in part, 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch42.htm (7 of 8) [23/08/2000 16:04:41] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 42S 
+
+and affects A more than B and C. The smaller the increase in productivity of the superior soils, the more it falls. It depends upon 
+the extent of inequality produced, whether the grain-rent shall rise, fall or remain stationary. 
+
+The money-rent rises, and similarly the grain-rent, either when — the proportional difference in additional fertility of the various 
+soils remaining unaltered — more capital is invested in the rent-bearing soils than in rentless soil A, and more in soils yielding 
+higher rent than in those yielding lower rents; or when the fertility — the additional capital remaining equal — increases more on the 
+better and best soils than on A, i. e. , the money and grain rents rise in proportion to this increase in fertility of the better soils above 
+that of the poorer ones. 
+
+But under all circumstances, there is a relative rise in rent when increased productive power is the result of an addition of capital, 
+and not merely the result of increased fertility with unaltered investment of capital. This is the absolute point of view, which shows 
+that here, as in all former cases, the rent and increased rent per acre (as in the case of differential rent I on the entire cultivated area 
+— the magnitude of the average rental) are the result of an increased investment of Capital in land, no matter whether this capital 
+functions with a constant rate of productivity at constant or decreasing prices or with a decreasing rate of productivity at constant 
+or falling prices, or with an increasing rate of productivity at falling prices. For our assumption: constant prices with a constant, 
+falling, or rising rate of productivity of the additional capital, and falling prices with a constant, falling, or rising rate of 
+productivity, resolves itself into: a constant rate of productivity of the additional capital at constant or falling prices, a falling rate 
+of productivity at constant or falling prices, and a rising rate of productivity at constant and falling prices. Although the rent may 
+remain stationary, or may fall, in all these cases, it would fall more if the additional investment of capital, other circumstances 
+remaining the same, were not a prerequisite for the increased productiveness. The additional capital, then, is always the cause for 
+the relatively high rent, although absolutely it may have decreased. 
+
+Footnotes 
+
+f 11 The above tables IVa to IVd had to be recalculated due to an error in computation which ran through all of them. While this did 
+not affect the theoretical conclusions drawn from these tables, it introduced, in part, quite monstrous numerical values for 
+production per acre. Even these are not objectionable in principle. For all relief and topographical maps it is customary to choose a 
+much larger scale for the vertical than for the horizontal. Nevertheless, should anyone feel that his agrarian feelings have been 
+injured thereby, he is at liberty to multiply the number of acres by any numerical value that will satisfy him. One might also choose 
+10, 12, 14, 16 bushels (8 bushels = 1 quarter) per acre in Table 1 instead of 1, 2, 3, 4 quarters, and the derived numerical values in 
+the other tables would remain within the limits of probability; it will be found that the result, i.e., the ratio of rent increase to 
+capital increase, is exactly the same. This has been done in the tables included by the editor in the next chapter. -F. E. 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 43 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch42.htm (8 of 8) [23/08/2000 16:04:41] 
+
+
+
+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Ch. 43 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+Capital Vol. Three 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+II 
+
+
+
+PART VI 
+
+TRANSFORMATION OF SURPLUS-PROFIT INTO GROUND-RENT 
+
+
+
+DIFFERENTIAL RENT II. 
+
+
+
+Chapter XLIII 
+
+THIRD CASE: RISING PRICE OF PRODUCTION 
+
+
+
+[A rising price of production presupposes that the productivity of the poorest quality land yielding no 
+rent decreases. The assumed regulating price of production cannot rise above £3 per quarter unless the 
+£2 1/2 invested in soil A produce less than 1 qr, or the £5 — less than 2 qrs, or unless an even poorer soil 
+than A has to be taken under cultivation. 
+
+For constant, or even increasing, productivity of the second investment of capital this would only be 
+possible if the productivity of the first investment of capital of £2i/2 had decreased. This case occurs often 
+enough. For instance, when with superficial ploughing the exhausted top soil yields ever smaller crops, 
+under the old method of cultivation, and then the subsoil, turned up through deeper ploughing, produces 
+better crops than before with more rational cultivation. But, strictly speaking, this special case does not 
+apply here. The decrease in productivity of the first £2i/2 of invested capital signifies for the superior 
+soils, even when the conditions are assumed to be analogous there, a decrease in differential rent I; yet 
+here we are considering only differential rent II. But since this special case cannot occur without 
+presupposing the existence of differential rent II, and represents in fact the reaction of a modification of 
+differential rent I upon II, we shall give an illustration of it [see Table VII — Ed.]. 
+
+The money-rent and proceeds are the same as in Table II. The increased regulating price of production 
+makes good what has been lost in quantity of produce; since this price and the quantity of produce are 
+inversely proportional, it is evident that their mathematical product will remain the same. 
+
+TABLE VII 
+
+
+
+Type 
+of Soil 
+
+
+Acres 
+
+
+Invested Capital 
+£ 
+
+
+Profit £ 
+
+
+Price 
+
+of 
+Prod. 
+
+£ 
+
+
+Output 
+Qrs 
+
+
+Sell- 
+ing 
+Price 
+£ 
+
+
+Pro- 
+ceeds 
+£ 
+
+
+Grain- 
+Rent 
+Qrs 
+
+
+Money 
+
+-Rent 
+
+£ 
+
+
+Rate 
+
+of 
+
+Rent 
+
+
+A 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1/2+1 1/4=1 3/4 
+
+
+33/7 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+0% 
+
+
+B 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1+2 1/2=3 1/2 
+
+
+33/7 
+
+
+12 
+
+
+I3/4 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+120% 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch43.htm (1 of 20) [23/08/2000 16:04:54] 
+
+
+
+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Ch. 43 
+
+
+
+c 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1 1/2+33/4=5 1/4 
+
+
+33/7 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+3 1/2 
+
+
+12 240% 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+2+5=7 
+
+
+33/7 
+
+
+24 
+
+
+5 1/4 
+
+
+18 360% 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+20 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+17l/2 
+
+
+
+
+60 
+
+
+101/2 
+
+
+36 240% 
+
+
+
+In the above Case, it was assumed that the productiveness of the second investment of capital was greater 
+than the original productivity of the first investment. Nothing changes if we assume the second 
+investment to have only the same productivity as the first, as shown in the following table: 
+
+TABLE VIII 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Rent 
+
+
+
+
+Type 
+of Soil 
+
+
+Acres 
+
+
+Invested Capital 
+£ 
+
+
+Profit 
+£ 
+
+
+Price 
+
+of 
+Prod. 
+
+£ 
+
+
+Output 
+Qrs 
+
+
+Sell- 
+ing 
+Price 
+£ 
+
+
+Pro- 
+ceeds 
+£ 
+
+
+In 
+
+Grain 
+
+Qrs 
+
+
+In 
+
+Money 
+£ 
+
+
+Rate of 
+Surplus- 
+Profit 
+
+
+A 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2=5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1/2+1 1/2=2 1/2 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+0% 
+
+
+B 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2=5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1+2=3 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+12 
+
+
+I1/2 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+120% 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2=5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+ll/2+3=4l/2 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+12 
+
+
+240% 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2=5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+2+4=6 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+24 
+
+
+4l/2 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+360% 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+20 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+15 
+
+
+
+
+60 
+
+
+9 
+
+
+36 
+
+
+240% 
+
+
+
+Here, too, the price of production rising at the same rate compensates in full for the decrease in 
+productivity in the case of yield as well as money-rent. 
+
+The third case appears in its pure form only when the productivity of the second investment of capital 
+declines, while that of the first remains constant — which was always assumed in the first and second 
+cases. Here differential rent I is not affected, i.e., the change affects only that part which arises from 
+differential rent II. We shall give two illustrations: in the first we assume that the productivity of the 
+second investment of capital has been reduced to 1/2, in the second to 3/4. 
+
+TABLE IX 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Rent 
+
+
+
+
+Type 
+
+of 
+
+Soil 
+
+
+Acres 
+
+
+Invested 
+
+Capital 
+
+£ 
+
+
+Profit 
+£ 
+
+
+Price 
+
+of 
+Prod. 
+
+
+Output 
+Qrs 
+
+
+Sell- 
+ing 
+Price 
+
+£ 
+
+
+Pro- 
+ceeds 
+£ 
+
+
+In 
+
+Grain 
+
+Qrs 
+
+
+In 
+
+Money 
+£ 
+
+
+Rate of 
+Rent 
+
+
+A 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2=5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1 + 1/2=1 1/2 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+B 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2=5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+2+1=3 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+12 
+
+
+I1/2 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+120% 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2=5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+3 + ll/2=4l/2 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+12 
+
+
+240% 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2=5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+4+2=6 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+24 
+
+
+4l/2 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+360% 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+20 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+15 
+
+
+
+
+60 
+
+
+9 
+
+
+36 
+
+
+240% 
+
+
+
+Table IX is the same as Table VIII, except for the fact that the decrease in productivity in VIII occurs for 
+the first, and in IX for the second investment of capital. 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch43.htm (2 of 20) [23/08/2000 16:04:54] 
+
+
+
+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Ch. 43 
+
+TABLE X 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Rent 
+
+
+
+
+Type 
+
+of 
+
+Soil 
+
+
+Acres 
+
+
+Invested 
+
+Capital 
+
+£ 
+
+
+Profit 
+£ 
+
+
+Price 
+
+of 
+Prod. 
+
+
+Output 
+Qrs 
+
+
+Sell- 
+ing 
+Price 
+£ 
+
+
+Pro- 
+ceeds 
+£ 
+
+
+In 
+
+Grain 
+
+Qrs 
+
+
+In 
+
+Money 
+£ 
+
+
+Rate of 
+Rent 
+
+
+A 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2=5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1 + 1/4=1 1/4 
+
+
+44/5 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+0% 
+
+
+B 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2=5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+2+ 1/2=2 1/2 
+
+
+44/5 
+
+
+12 
+
+
+ll/4 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+120% 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2=5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+3+3/4=33/4 
+
+
+44/5 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+2 1/2 
+
+
+12 
+
+
+240% 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2=5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+4+1=5 
+
+
+44/5 
+
+
+24 
+
+
+33/4 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+360% 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+20 
+
+
+
+
+24 
+
+
+12l/2 
+
+
+
+
+60 
+
+
+7 1/2 
+
+
+36 
+
+
+240% 
+
+
+
+In this table, too, the total proceeds, the money-rent and rate of rent remain the same as in tables II, VII 
+and VIII, because produce and selling price are again inversely proportional, while the invested capital 
+remains the same. 
+
+But how do matters stand in the other possible ease when the price of production rises, namely, in the 
+case of a poor quality soil not worth cultivating until then that is taken under cultivation? 
+
+Let us suppose that a soil of this sort, which we shall designate by a, enters into competition. Then the 
+hitherto rentless soil A would yield rent, and the foregoing tables VII, VIII and X would assume the 
+following forms: 
+
+TABLE Vila 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Rent 
+
+
+
+
+Type 
+
+of 
+
+Soil 
+
+
+Acres 
+
+
+Invested 
+
+Capital 
+
+£ 
+
+
+Profit 
+£ 
+
+
+Price 
+
+of 
+Prod. 
+
+
+Output 
+Qrs 
+
+
+Sell- 
+ing 
+Price 
+£ 
+
+
+Pro- 
+ceeds 
+£ 
+
+
+In 
+
+Grain 
+
+Qrs 
+
+
+In 
+
+Money 
+£ 
+
+
+Increase 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1 1/2 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 1/2+1 1/4=1 3/4 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+7 
+
+
+1/4 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+B 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2l/2+2l/2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1+2 1/2=3 1/2 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+14 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1+7 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2l/2+2l/2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1 1/2+33/4 
+
+
+=5 1/4 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+21 
+
+
+33/4 
+
+
+15 
+
+
+1+2x7 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+2+5=7 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+28 
+
+
+5 1/2 
+
+
+22 
+
+
+1+3x7 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+30 
+
+
+19 
+
+
+
+
+76 
+
+
+11 1/2 
+
+
+46 
+
+
+
+
+
+TABLE Villa 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Rent 
+
+
+
+
+Type 
+
+of 
+
+Soil 
+
+
+Acres 
+
+
+Invested 
+
+Capital 
+
+£ 
+
+
+Profit 
+£ 
+
+
+Price 
+
+of 
+Prod. 
+
+
+Output 
+Qrs 
+
+
+Sell- 
+ing 
+Price 
+£ 
+
+
+Pro- 
+ceeds 
+£ 
+
+
+In 
+
+Grain 
+
+Qrs 
+
+
+In 
+
+Money 
+£ 
+
+
+Increase 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+ll/4 
+
+
+44/5 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch43.htm (3 of 20) [23/08/2000 16:04:54] 
+
+
+
+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Ch. 43 
+
+
+
+A 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1/2+1 = 1 1/2 
+
+
+44/5 
+
+
+7 1/5 
+
+
+1/4 
+
+
+1 1/5 
+
+
+I1/5 
+
+
+B 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1+2=3 
+
+
+44/5 
+
+
+142/5 
+
+
+13/4 
+
+
+82/5 
+
+
+1 1/5+7 1/5 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1 1/2+3 =4 1/2 
+
+
+44/5 
+
+
+21 3/5 
+
+
+3 1/4* 
+
+
+153/5 
+
+
+1 1/5+2x7 1/5 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+2+4=6 
+
+
+44/5 
+
+
+284/5 
+
+
+43/4 
+
+
+224/5 
+
+
+1 1/5+3x7 1/5 
+
+
+
+
+5 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+30 
+
+
+16 1/4 
+
+
+
+
+78 
+
+
+10** 
+
+
+48 
+
+
+
+
+
+[* In the German 1894 edition this reads: 2i/4. — Ed.] 
+[** Ibid.: 9 - Ed.] 
+
+TABLE Xa 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Rent 
+
+
+
+
+Type 
+
+of 
+
+Soil 
+
+
+Acres 
+
+
+Invested 
+
+Capital 
+
+£ 
+
+
+Profit 
+£ 
+
+
+Price 
+
+of 
+Prod. 
+
+
+Output 
+Qrs 
+
+
+Sell- 
+ing 
+Price 
+
+£ 
+
+
+Pro- 
+ceeds 
+£ 
+
+
+In 
+
+Grain 
+
+Qrs 
+
+
+In 
+
+Money 
+£ 
+
+
+Increase 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1 1/8 
+
+
+5 1/3 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2 
+
+
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1 + 1/4=1 1/4 
+
+
+5 1/3 
+
+
+62/3 
+
+
+1/8 
+
+
+2/3 
+
+
+2/3 
+
+
+B 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2 
+
+
+
+
+6 
+
+
+2+ 1/2=2 1/2 
+
+
+5 1/3 
+
+
+13 1/3 
+
+
+I3/8 
+
+
+7 1/3 
+
+
+2/3+62/3 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2 
+
+
+
+
+6 
+
+
+3+3/4=33/4 
+
+
+5 1/3 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+25/8 
+
+
+14 
+
+
+2/3+2x62/3 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 1/2+2 1/2 
+
+
+
+
+6 
+
+
+4+1=5 
+
+
+5 1/3 
+
+
+262/3 
+
+
+37/8 
+
+
+2O2/3 
+
+
+2/3+3x62/3 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+30 
+
+
+135/8 
+
+
+
+
+722/3 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+422/3 
+
+
+> 
+
+
+
+By interpolating soil a there arises a new differential rent I; upon this new basis, differential rent II 
+likewise develops in an altered form. Soil a has different fertility in each of the above three tables; the 
+sequence of proportionally increasing fertilities begins only with soil A. The sequence of rising rents also 
+behaves similarly. The rent of the worst rent-bearing soil, previously rentless, is a constant which is 
+simply added to all higher rents. Only after deducting this constant does the sequence of differences 
+clearly become evident for the higher rents, and similarly its parallel in the fertility sequence of the 
+different soils. In all the tables, the fertilities from A to D are related as 1:2:3:4, and correspondingly the 
+rents: 
+
+in Vila, as I:(l+7):(l+2x7):(l+3x7), 
+
+in Villa, as 1 1/5 : ( 1 1/5+7 1/5): ( 1 1/5+2x7 1/5): ( 1 1/5+3x7 1/5), 
+
+and in Xa, as 2/3: (2/3+62/3): (2/3+2x62/3): (2/3+3x62/3). 
+
+In brief, if the rent from A=n, and the rent from the soil of next higher fertility=n+m, then the sequence is 
+as follows: n:(n+m):(n+2m):(n+3m), etc. — F. E.] 
+
+
+
+[Since the foregoing third case had not been elaborated in the manuscript — only the title is there — it was 
+the task of the editor to fill in the gap, as above, to the best of his ability. However, in addition, it still 
+remains for him to draw the general conclusions from the entire foregoing analysis of differential rent II, 
+consisting of three principal cases and nine subcases. The illustrations presented in the manuscript, 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch43.htm (4 of 20) [23/08/2000 16:04:54] 
+
+
+
+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Ch. 43 
+
+however, do not suit this purpose very well. In the first place, they compare plots of land whose yields 
+for equal areas are related as 1:2:3:4; i.e., differences, which exaggerate greatly from the very first, and 
+which lead to utterly monstrous numerical values in the further development of the assumptions and 
+calculations made upon this basis. Secondly, they create a completely erroneous impression. If for 
+degrees of fertility related as 1:2:3:4, etc., rents are obtained in the sequence 0:1:2:3, etc., one feels 
+tempted to derive the second sequence from the first, and to explain the doubling, tripling, etc., of rents 
+by the doubling, tripling, etc., of the total yields. But this would be wholly incorrect. The rents are related 
+as 0:1:2:3:4 even when the degrees of fertility are related as n:(n+l):(n+2):(n+3) (n+4). The rents are not 
+related as the degrees of fertility, but as the differences of fertility — beginning with the rentless soil as 
+the zero point. 
+
+The original tables had to be offered to illustrate the text. But in order to obtain a perceptual basis for the 
+following results of the investigation, I present below a new series of tables in which the yields are 
+indicated in bushels (i/8 quarter, or 36.35 litres) and shillings (=marks). 
+
+The first of these, Table XI, corresponds to the former Table I. It shows the yields and rents for soils of 
+five different qualities, A to E, with a first capital investment of 50 shillings, which added to 10 shillings 
+profit=60 shillings total price of production per acre. The yields in grain are made low: 10, 12, 14, 16, 18 
+bushels per acre. The resulting regulating price of production is 6 shillings per bushel. 
+
+The following 13 tables correspond to the three cases of differential rent II treated in this and the two 
+preceding chapters with an additional invested capital of 50 shillings per acre in the same soil with 
+constant, falling and rising prices of production. Each of these cases, in turn, is presented as it takes 
+shape for: 
+
+1) constant, 2) falling, and 3) rising productivity of the second investment of capital in relation to the 
+first. This yields a few other variants, which are especially useful for illustration purposes. 
+
+For case I: Constant price of production — we have: 
+
+
+
+Variant 1: 
+
+
+Productivity of the second investment of capital 
+remains the same (Table XII). 
+
+
+Variant 2: 
+
+
+Productivity declines. This can take place only when 
+no second investment of capital is made in soil A, i.e., in 
+such a way that a) soil B likewise yields no rent (Table XIII) 
+or b) soil B does not become completely rentless (Table XIV). 
+
+
+Variant 3: 
+
+
+Productivity increases (Table XV). This case likewise excludes 
+a second investment of capital in soil A. 
+
+
+
+For case II: Falling price of production — we have: 
+
+
+
+Variant 1: 
+
+
+
+Productivity of the second investment of capital remains the same (Table XVI). 
+
+
+
+Productivity declines (Table XVII). These two variants require that soil 
+A be eliminated from competition, and that soil B become rentless and 
+regulate the price of production. 
+
+
+
+3: 
+
+
+
+Productivity increases (Table XVIII). Here Soil A remains the regulator. 
+
+
+
+For case III: Rising price of production — two eventualities are possible: soil A may remain rentless and 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch43.htm (5 of 20) [23/08/2000 16:04:54] 
+
+
+
+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Ch. 43 
+
+continue to regulate the price, or poorer soil than A enters into competition and regulates the price, in 
+which case A yields rent. 
+
+First eventuality: Soil A remains the regulator. 
+
+
+
+Variant 1: 
+
+
+Productivity' of the second investment remains the same (Table XIX). 
+This is admissible under the conditions assumed by us, provided the 
+productivity of the first investment decreases. 
+
+
+- " - 2: 
+
+
+Productivity of the second investment decreases (Table XX). 
+This does not exclude the possibility that the first investment 
+may retain the same productivity. 
+
+
+-- " -- 3: 
+
+
+Productivity of the second investment increases (Table XXI 
+
+[In the German 1894 edition this reads: XIX. — Ed.]). This, again, 
+
+presupposes falling productivity of the first investment. 
+
+
+Second eventuality: An inferior quality soil (designated as a) enters into competition; soil A yields rent. 
+
+
+Variant 1: 
+
+
+Productivity of the second investment remains the same (Table XXII). 
+
+
+Variant 2: 
+
+
+Productivity declines (Table XXIII). 
+
+
+- " -- 3: 
+
+
+Productivity increases (Table XXIV). 
+
+
+
+These three variants conform to the general conditions of the problem and require no further comment. 
+The tables now follow: 
+TABLE XI 
+
+
+
+Type of 
+Soil 
+
+
+Price of 
+
+Production 
+
+Sh. 
+
+
+Output 
+Bushels 
+
+
+Selling 
+
+Price 
+
+Sh. 
+
+
+Proceeds 
+Sh. 
+
+
+Rent 
+Sh. 
+
+
+Rent 
+Increase 
+
+
+A 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+B 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+12 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+72 
+
+
+12 
+
+
+12 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+14 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+84 
+
+
+24 
+
+
+2x12 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+16 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+96 
+
+
+36 
+
+
+3x12 
+
+
+E 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+108 
+
+
+48 
+
+
+4x12 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+120 
+
+
+10x12 
+
+
+
+For second capital invested in the same soil: 
+
+First Case: Price of production remains unaltered. 
+
+Variant 1: Productivity of the second investment of capital remains the same. 
+
+TABLE XII 
+
+
+
+Type 
+
+of 
+
+Soil 
+
+
+Price of 
+
+Production 
+
+Sh. 
+
+
+Output 
+Bushels 
+
+
+Selling 
+
+Price 
+
+Sh. 
+
+
+Proceeds 
+Sh. 
+
+
+Rent 
+Sh. 
+
+
+Rent 
+Increase 
+
+
+A 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+10+10=20 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch43.htm (6 of 20) [23/08/2000 16:04:54] 
+
+
+
+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Ch. 43 
+
+
+
+B 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+12+12=24 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+144 
+
+
+24 
+
+
+24 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+14+14=28 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+168 
+
+
+48 
+
+
+2X24 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+16+16=32 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+192 
+
+
+72 
+
+
+3X24 
+
+
+E 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+18+18=36 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+216 
+
+
+96 
+
+
+4X24 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+240 
+
+
+10x24 
+
+
+
+Variant 2: Productivity of the second investment of capital declines; no second investment in soil A. 
+1) Soil B ceases to yield rent. 
+TABLE XIII 
+
+
+
+Type 
+
+of 
+
+Soil 
+
+
+Price of 
+
+Production 
+
+Sh. 
+
+
+Output 
+Bushels 
+
+
+Selling 
+
+Price 
+
+Sh. 
+
+
+Pro- 
+ceeds 
+Sh. 
+
+
+Rent 
+Sh. 
+
+
+Rent 
+Increase 
+
+
+A 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+B 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+12+8=20 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+C 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+14+9 1/3=23 1/3 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+140 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+16+102/3=262/3 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+160 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+2x20 
+
+
+E 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+18+12*=30 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+180 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+3x20 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+120 
+
+
+6x20 
+
+
+
+[* In the German 1894 edition this reads: 20. -- Ed.~\ 
+2) Soil B does not become completely rentless. 
+TABLE XIV 
+
+
+
+Type 
+
+of 
+
+Soil 
+
+
+Price of 
+
+Production 
+
+Sh. 
+
+
+Output 
+Bushels 
+
+
+Selling 
+
+Price 
+
+Sh. 
+
+
+Proceeds 
+Sh. 
+
+
+Rent 
+Sh. 
+
+
+Rent 
+Increase 
+
+
+A 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+B 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+12+9=21 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+126 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+14+10i/2=24 1/2 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+147 
+
+
+27 
+
+
+6+21 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+16+12=28 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+168 
+
+
+48 
+
+
+6+2x21 
+
+
+E 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+18+ 13 1/2=31 1/2 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+189 
+
+
+69 
+
+
+6+3x21 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+150 
+
+
+4x6+6x21 
+
+
+
+Variant 3: Productivity of the second investment of capital increases; here, too, no second investment in 
+Soil A. 
+
+TABLE XV 
+
+
+
+Type 
+
+of 
+
+Soil 
+
+
+
+Price of 
+
+Production 
+
+Sh. 
+
+
+
+Output 
+Bushels 
+
+
+
+Selling 
+
+Price 
+
+Sh. 
+
+
+
+Proceeds 
+Sh. 
+
+
+
+Rent 
+Sh. 
+
+
+
+Rent 
+Increase 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch43.htm (7 of 20) [23/08/2000 16:04:54] 
+
+
+
+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Ch. 43 
+
+
+
+A 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+B 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+12+15=27 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+162 
+
+
+42 
+
+
+42 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+14+17i/2=31 1/2 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+189 
+
+
+69 
+
+
+42+27 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+16+20=36 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+216 
+
+
+96 
+
+
+42+2x27 
+
+
+E 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+18+22i/2=40i/2 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+243 
+
+
+123 
+
+
+42+3x27 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+330 4x42+6x27 
+
+
+
+Second Case: Price of production declines. 
+
+Variant 1: Productivity of the second investment of capital remains the same. Soil A is excluded from 
+competition and soil B becomes rentless. 
+
+TABLE XVI 
+
+
+
+Type 
+
+of 
+
+Soil 
+
+
+Price of 
+
+Production 
+
+Sh. 
+
+
+Output 
+Bushels 
+
+
+Selling 
+
+Price 
+
+Sh. 
+
+
+Proceeds 
+Sh. 
+
+
+Rent 
+Sh. 
+
+
+Rent 
+Increase 
+
+
+B 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+12+12=24 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+C 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+14+14=28 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+140 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+16+16=32 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+160 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+2x20 
+
+
+E 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+18+18=36 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+180 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+3x20 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+120 
+
+
+6x20 
+
+
+
+Variant 2: Productivity of the second investment of capital declines; soil A is excluded from competition 
+and soil B becomes rentless. 
+
+
+
+TABLE XVII 
+
+
+
+Type 
+
+of 
+
+Soil 
+
+
+Price of 
+
+Production 
+
+Sh. 
+
+
+Output 
+Bushels 
+
+
+Selling 
+
+Price 
+
+Sh. 
+
+
+Proceeds 
+Sh. 
+
+
+Rent 
+Sh. 
+
+
+Rent 
+Increase 
+
+
+B 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+12+9=21 
+
+
+55/7 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+C 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+14+10i/2=24i/2 
+
+
+55/7 
+
+
+140 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+16+12=28 
+
+
+55/7 
+
+
+160 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+2x20 
+
+
+E 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+18+ 13 1/2=31 1/2 
+
+
+55/7 
+
+
+180 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+3x20 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+120 
+
+
+6x20 
+
+
+
+Variant 3: Productivity of the second investment of capital increases; soil A remains in competition; soil 
+B yields rent. 
+
+TABLE XVIII 
+
+
+
+Type 
+
+of 
+
+Soil 
+
+
+Price of 
+
+Production 
+
+Sh. 
+
+
+Output 
+Bushels 
+
+
+Selling 
+
+Price 
+
+Sh. 
+
+
+Proceeds 
+Sh. 
+
+
+Rent 
+Sh. 
+
+
+Rent 
+Increase 
+
+
+A 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+10+15=25 
+
+
+44/5 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch43.htm (8 of 20) [23/08/2000 16:04:54] 
+
+
+
+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Ch. 43 
+
+
+
+B 
+
+
+60+60-120 
+
+
+12+18=30 
+
+
+44/5 
+
+
+144 1 24 1 24 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+14+21=35 
+
+
+44/5 
+
+
+168 
+
+
+48 
+
+
+2x24 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+16+24=46 
+
+
+44/5 
+
+
+192 
+
+
+72 
+
+
+3x24 
+
+
+E 
+
+
+60+60-120 
+
+
+18+27=45 
+
+
+44/5 
+
+
+216 
+
+
+96 
+
+
+4x24 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+240 
+
+
+10x24 
+
+
+
+Case: Price of production rises. 
+
+A) Soil A remains rentless and continues to regulate the price. 
+
+Variant 1: Productivity of the second investment of capital remains the same: this requires decreasing 
+productivity of the first investment of capital. 
+
+TABLE XIX 
+
+
+
+Type 
+
+of 
+
+Soil 
+
+
+Price of 
+
+Production 
+
+Sh. 
+
+
+Output 
+Bushels 
+
+
+Selling 
+
+Price 
+
+Sh. 
+
+
+Proceeds 
+Sh. 
+
+
+Rent 
+Sh. 
+
+
+Rent 
+Increase 
+
+
+A 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+7 1/2+ 10= 17 1/2 
+
+
+66/7 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+B 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+9+12=21 
+
+
+66/7 
+
+
+144 
+
+
+24 
+
+
+24 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+10i/2+14=24i/2 
+
+
+66/7 
+
+
+168 
+
+
+48 
+
+
+2x24 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+12+16=28 
+
+
+66/7 
+
+
+192 
+
+
+72 
+
+
+3x24 
+
+
+E 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+13i/2+18=31 1/2 
+
+
+66/7 
+
+
+216 
+
+
+96 
+
+
+4x24 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+240 
+
+
+10x24 
+
+
+
+Variant 2: Productivity of the second investment of capital decreases; which does not exclude constant 
+productivity of the first investment. 
+
+TABLE XXI 
+
+
+
+Type 
+
+of 
+
+Soil 
+
+
+Price of 
+
+Production 
+
+Sh. 
+
+
+Output 
+Bushels 
+
+
+Selling 
+
+Price 
+
+Sh. 
+
+
+Proceeds 
+Sh. 
+
+
+Rent 
+Sh. 
+
+
+Rent 
+Increase 
+
+
+A 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+5+12i/2=17i/2 
+
+
+66/7 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+B 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+6+15=21 
+
+
+66/7 
+
+
+144 
+
+
+24 
+
+
+24 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+7+17i/2=24i/2 
+
+
+66/7 
+
+
+168 
+
+
+48 
+
+
+2x24 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+8+20=28 
+
+
+66/7 
+
+
+192 
+
+
+72 
+
+
+3x24 
+
+
+E 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+9+22i/2=31i/2 
+
+
+66/7 
+
+
+216 
+
+
+96 
+
+
+4x24 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+240 
+
+
+10x24 
+
+
+
+B) An inferior Soil (designated as a) becomes the price regulator and soil A thus yields rent This makes 
+admissible for all variants constant productivity of the second investment. 
+
+Variant 1: Productivity of the second investment of capital remains the same. 
+
+TABLE XXII 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch43.htm (9 of 20) [23/08/2000 16:04:54] 
+
+
+
+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Ch. 43 
+
+
+
+Type 
+
+of 
+
+Soil 
+
+
+Price of 
+
+Production 
+
+Sh. 
+
+
+Output 
+Bushels 
+
+
+Selling 
+
+Price 
+
+Sh. 
+
+
+Proceeds 
+Sh. 
+
+
+Rent 
+Sh. 
+
+
+Rent 
+Increase 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+16 
+
+
+7 1/2 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+10+10=20 
+
+
+7 1/2 
+
+
+150 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+B 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+12+12=24 
+
+
+7 1/2 
+
+
+180 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+2x30 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+14+14=28 
+
+
+7 1/2 
+
+
+210 
+
+
+90 
+
+
+3x30 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+16+16=32 
+
+
+7 1/2 
+
+
+240 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+4x30 
+
+
+E 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+18+18=36 
+
+
+7 1/2 
+
+
+270 
+
+
+150 
+
+
+5x30 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+450 
+
+
+15x30 
+
+
+
+Variant 2: Productivity of the second investment of capital declines. 
+TABLE XXIII 
+
+
+
+Type 
+
+of 
+
+Soil 
+
+
+Price of 
+
+Production 
+
+Sh. 
+
+
+Output 
+Bushels 
+
+
+Selling 
+
+Price 
+
+Sh. 
+
+
+Proceeds 
+Sh. 
+
+
+Rent 
+Sh. 
+
+
+Rent 
+Increase 
+
+
+A 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+15 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+10+7 1/2= 17 1/2 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+140 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+B 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+12+9=21 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+168 
+
+
+48 
+
+
+20+28 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+14+10i/2=24i/2 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+196 
+
+
+76 
+
+
+20+2x28 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+16+12=28 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+224 
+
+
+104 
+
+
+20+3x28 
+
+
+E 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+18+ 13 1/2=31 1/2 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+252 
+
+
+132 
+
+
+20+4x28 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+380 
+
+
+5x20+10x28 
+
+
+
+Variant 3: Productivity of the second investment increases. 
+TABLE XXIV 
+
+
+
+Type 
+
+of 
+
+Soil 
+
+
+Price of 
+
+Production 
+
+Sh. 
+
+
+Output 
+Bushels 
+
+
+Selling 
+
+Price 
+
+Sh. 
+
+
+Proceeds 
+Sh. 
+
+
+Rent 
+Sh. 
+
+
+Rent 
+Increase 
+
+
+A 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+16 
+
+
+7 1/2 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+10+ 12 1/2=21 1/2 
+
+
+7 1/2 
+
+
+1683/4 
+
+
+483/4 
+
+
+15+333/4 
+
+
+B 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+12+15=27 
+
+
+7 1/2 
+
+
+202i/2 
+
+
+82i/2 
+
+
+15+2x333/4 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+14+ 17 1/2=31 1/2 
+
+
+7 1/2 
+
+
+236i/4 
+
+
+116i/4 
+
+
+15+3x333/4 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+16+20=36 
+
+
+7 1/2 
+
+
+270 
+
+
+150 
+
+
+15+4x333/4 
+
+
+E 
+
+
+60+60=120 
+
+
+18+22 1/2=40 1/2 
+
+
+7 1/2 
+
+
+3033/4 
+
+
+1833/4 
+
+
+15+5x333/4 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+581i/4 
+
+
+5x15+15x333/4 
+
+
+
+These tables lead to the following conclusions: 
+
+In the first place, the sequence of rents behaves exactly as the sequence of fertility differences — taking 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch43.htm (10 of 20) [23/08/2000 16:04:55] 
+
+
+
+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Ch. 43 
+
+the rentless regulating soil as the zero point. It is not the absolute yield, but only the differences in yield 
+which are the factors determining rent. Whether the various soils yield 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 bushels, or whether 
+they yield 11, 12, 13, 14, 15 bushels per acre, the rents in both cases form the sequence 0, 1, 2, 3, 4 
+bushels, or their equivalent in money. 
+
+But far more important is the result with respect to the total rent yields for repeated investment of capital 
+in the same land. 
+
+In five out of the thirteen analysed cases, the total rent doubles when the investment of capital is doubled; 
+instead of 10x12 shillings it becomes 10x24 shillings =240 shillings. These cases are: 
+
+Case I, constant price, variant 1: constant production rise (Table XII). 
+
+Case II, falling price, variant 3: increasing production rise (Table XVIII). 
+
+Case III, increasing price, first eventuality (where soil A remains the regulator), in all three variants 
+(tables XIX, XX and XXI). 
+
+In four cases the rent more than doubles, namely: 
+
+Case I, variant 3, constant price, but increasing production rise (Table XV) The total rent climbs to 330 
+shillings. 
+
+Case III, second eventuality (where soil A yields rent), in all three variants (Table XXII, rent =15 
+x30=450 shillings; Table XXIII, rent =5x20+10x28=380 shillings; Table XXIV, rent=5x 15+15x333/4 
+581 1/4 shillings). 
+
+In one case the rent rises, but not to twice the amount yielded by the first investment of capital: 
+
+Case I; constant price, variant 2: falling productivity of the second investment, under conditions whereby 
+B does not become completely rentless (Table XIV, rent =4 x 6+6 x 21=150 shillings). 
+
+Finally, only in three cases does the total rent remain at the same level with a second investment — for all 
+soils taken together — as with the first investment (Table XI); these are the cases in which soil A is 
+excluded from competition and B becomes the regulator and thereby rentless soil. Thus, the rent for B 
+not only vanishes but is also deducted from every succeeding term of the rent sequence; the result is thus 
+determined. These cases are: 
+
+Case I, variant 2, when the conditions are such that soil A is excluded (Table XIII). The total rent is 
+6x20, or 10x12=120, as in Table XL 
+
+Case II, variants I and 2. Here soil A is necessarily excluded in accordance with the assumptions (tables 
+XVI and XVII) and the total rent is again 6x20=10x12=120 shillings. 
+
+Thus, this means: In the great majority of all possible cases the rent rises — per acre of rent-bearing land 
+as well as particularly in its total amount — as a result of an increased investment of capital in the land. 
+Only in three out of the thirteen analysed cases does its total remain unaltered. These are the cases in 
+which the lowest quality soil — hitherto the regulator and rentless — is eliminated from competition and 
+the next quality soil takes its place, i.e., becomes rentless. But even in these cases, the rents upon the 
+superior soils rise in comparison with the rents due to the first capital investment; when the rent for C 
+falls from 24 to 20, then those for D and E rise from 36 and 48 to 40 and 60 shillings respectively. 
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch43.htm (11 of 20) [23/08/2000 16:04:55] 
+
+
+
+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Ch. 43 
+
+A fall in the total rents below the level for the first investment of capital (Table XI) would be possible 
+only if soil B as well as soil A were to be excluded from competition and soil C were to become 
+regulating and rentless. 
+
+Thus, the more capital is invested in the land, and the higher the development of agriculture and 
+civilisation in general in a given country, the more rents rise per acre as well as in total amount, and the 
+more immense becomes the tribute paid by society to the big landowners in the form of surplus-profits — 
+so long as the various soils, once taken under cultivation, are all able to continue competing. 
+
+This law accounts for the amazing vitality of the class of big landlords. No social class lives so 
+sumptuously, no other class claims the right it does to traditional luxury in keeping with its "estate," 
+regardless of where the money for this purpose may be derived, and no other class piles debt upon debt 
+so lightheartedly. And yet it always lands again on its feet — thanks to the capital invested by other 
+people in the land, which yields it a rent, completely out of proportion to the profits reaped therefrom by 
+the capitalist. 
+
+However, the same law also explains why the vitality of the big landlord is gradually being exhausted. 
+
+When the English corn duties were abolished in 1846, the English manufacturers believed that they had 
+thereby turned the land-owning aristocracy into paupers. Instead, they became richer than ever. How did 
+this occur? Very simply. In the first place, the farmers were now compelled by contract to invest £12 per 
+acre annually instead of £8. And secondly, the landlords, being strongly represented in the Lower House 
+too, granted themselves a large government subsidy for drainage projects and other permanent 
+improvements on their land. Since no total displacement of the poorest soil took place, but rather, at 
+worst, it became employed for other purposes — and mostly only temporarily — rents rose in proportion 
+to the increased investment of capital, and the landed aristocracy consequently was better off than ever 
+before. 
+
+But everything is transitory. Transoceanic steamships and the railways of North and South America and 
+India enabled some very singular tracts of land to compete in European grain markets. These were, on 
+the one hand, the North American prairies and the Argentine pampas-plains cleared for the plough by 
+Nature itself, and virgin soil which offered rich harvests for years to come even with primitive cultivation 
+and without fertilisers. And, on the other hand, there were the land holdings of Russian and Indian 
+communist communities which had to sell a portion of their produce, and a constantly increasing one at 
+that, for the purpose of obtaining money for taxes wrung from them — frequently by means of torture — 
+by a ruthless and despotic state. These products were sold without regard to price of production, they 
+were sold at the price which the dealer offered, because the peasant perforce needed money without fail 
+when taxes became due. And in face of this competition — coming from virgin plains as well as from 
+Russian and Indian peasants ground down by taxation — the European tenant farmer and peasant could 
+not prevail at the old rents. A portion of the land in Europe fell decisively out of competition as regards 
+grain cultivation, and rents fell everywhere; our second case, variant 2 — falling prices and falling 
+productivity of the additional investment of capital — became the rule for Europe; and therefore the 
+lament of landlords from Scotland to Italy and from southern France to East Prussia. Fortunately, the 
+plains are far from being entirely brought under cultivation; there are enough left to ruin all the big 
+landlords of Europe and the small ones into the bargain — F.E.] 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch43.htm (12 of 20) [23/08/2000 16:04:55] 
+
+
+
+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Ch. 43 
+
+The headings under which rent should be analysed are: 
+
+A. Differential rent. 
+
+1) Conception of differential rent. Water-power as an illustration. Transition to agricultural rent proper. 
+
+2) Differential rent I, arising from the varying fertility of various plots of land. 
+
+3) Differential rent II, arising from successive investments of capital in the same land. Differential rent II 
+should be analysed: 
+
+a) with a stationary, 
+
+b) falling, 
+
+c) and rising price of production. 
+And also 
+
+d) transformation of surplus-profit into rent. 
+
+4) Influence of this rent upon the rate of profit. 
+
+B. Absolute rent. 
+
+C. The price of land. 
+
+D. Final remarks concerning ground-rent. 
+
+
+
+Over-all conclusions to be drawn from the consideration of differential rent in general are the following: 
+
+First, the formation of surplus-profit may take place in various ways. On the one hand, based on 
+differential rent I, that is, on the investment of the entire agricultural capital in land consisting of soils of 
+varying fertility. Or, in the form of differential rent II, based on the varying differential productivity of 
+successive investments of capital in the same land, i.e., a greater productivity — expressed, e.g., in 
+quarters of wheat — than is secured with the same investment of capital in the worst land — rentless, but 
+which regulates the price of production. But no matter how this surplus-profit may arise, its 
+transformation into rent, i.e., its transfer from farmer to landlord, always presupposes that the various 
+actual individual production prices of the partial outputs of the individual successive investments of 
+capital (i.e., independent of the general price of production by which the market is regulated) have 
+previously been reduced to an individual average price of production. The excess of the general 
+regulating production price of the output per acre over this individual average production price 
+constitutes and is a measure of the rent per acre. In the case of differential rent I, the differential results 
+are in themselves distinguishable because they take place upon different portions of land — distinct from 
+one another and existing side by side — given an investment of capital per acre and a degree of 
+cultivation considered normal. In the case of differential rent II, they must first be made distinguishable; 
+they must in fact be transformed back into differential rent I, and this can only take place in the indicated 
+way. For example, let us take Table III, S. 226. 
+
+Soil B yields for the first invested capital of £2i/2 — 2 quarters per acre, and for the second investment of 
+equal magnitude — I1/2 quarters; together — 3 1/2 quarters from the same acre. It is not possible to 
+distinguish which part of these 3 1/2 quarters is a product of invested capital I and which part a product of 
+invested capital II, for it is all grown upon the same soil. In fact, the 3 1/2 quarters is the yield from the 
+total capital of £5; and the actual fact of the matter is simply this: a capital of £2i/2 yielded 2 quarters, and 
+a capital of £5 yielded 3 1/2 quarters rather than 4 quarters. The situation would be just the same if the £5 
+yielded 4 quarters, i.e., if the yield from both investments of capital were equal; similarly, if the yield 
+were even 5 quarters, i.e., if the second investment of capital were to yield a surplus of 1 quarter. The 
+price of production of the first 2 quarters is £1 1/2 per quarter, and that of the second 1 1/2 quarters is £2 per 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch43.htm (13 of 20) [23/08/2000 16:04:55] 
+
+
+
+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Ch. 43 
+
+quarter. Consequently the 3 1/2 quarters together cost £6. This is the individual price of production of the 
+total product, and, on the average, amounts to £1 142/7 sh. per quarter, i.e., approximately £b/4 With the 
+general price of production determined by soil A, namely £3, this results in a surplus-profit of £1 1/4 per 
+quarter, and thus for the 3 1/2 quarters, a total of £43/8. At the average price of production of B this 
+corresponds to about I1/2 quarters. In other words, the surplus-profit from B is represented by an aliquot 
+portion of the output from B, i.e., by the 1 1/2 quarters, which express the rent in terms of grain, and which 
+sell — in accordance with the general price of production — for £4 1/2. But on the other hand, the excess 
+product from an acre of B over that from an acre of A does not automatically represent surplus-profit, 
+and thereby surplus-product. According to our assumption, an acre of B yields 3 1/2 quarters, whereas an 
+acre of A yields only 1 quarter. Excess product from B is, therefore, 2i/2 quarters but the surplus-product 
+is only I1/2 quarters; for the capital invested in B is twice that invested in A, and thus its price of 
+production is double. If an investment of £5 were also to take place in A, and the rate of productivity 
+were to remain the same, then the output would be 2 quarters instead of 1 quarter, and it would then be 
+seen that the actual surplus-product is determined by comparing 3 1/2 with 2, not 3 1/2 with 1; i.e., it is only 
+I1/2 quarters, not 2i/2 quarters. Furthermore, if a third investment of capital, amounting to £2 1/2, were 
+made in B, and this were to yield only 1 quarter — this quarter would then cost £3 as in A — its selling 
+price of £3 would only cover the price of production, would provide only the average profit, but no 
+surplus-profit, and would thus yield nothing that could be transformed into rent. The comparison of the 
+output per acre from any given soil type with the output per acre from soil A does not show whether it is 
+the output from an equal or from a larger investment of capital, nor whether the additional output only 
+covers the price of production or is due to greater productivity of the additional capital. 
+
+Secondly, assuming a decreasing rate of productivity for the additional investments of capital whose 
+limit, so far as the new formation of surplus-profit is concerned, is that investment of capital which just 
+covers the price of production, i.e., which produces a quarter as dearly as the same investment of capital 
+in an acre of soil A, namely, at £3, according to our assumption — it follows from what has just been 
+said: that the limit, where the total investment of capital in an acre of B would no longer yield any rent, is 
+reached when the individual average production price of output per acre of B would rise to the price of 
+production per acre of A. 
+
+If only investments of capital are made in B that yield the price of production, i.e., yield no surplus-profit 
+nor new rent, then this indeed raises the individual average price of production per quarter, but does not 
+affect the surplus-profit, and eventually the rent, formed by previous investments of capital. For the 
+average price of production always remains below that of A, and when the price excess per quarter 
+decreases, the number of quarters increases proportionately, so that the total excess in price remains 
+unaltered. 
+
+In the case assumed, the first two investments of capital in B amounting to £5 yield 3 1/2 quarters, thus 
+according to our assumption 1 1/2 quarters of rent =£4i/2. Now, if a third investment of £2 1/2 is made, but 
+one which yields only an additional quarter, then the total price of production (including 20% profit) of 
+the 4i/2 quarters =£9; thus the average price per quarter =£2. The average price of production per quarter 
+upon B has thus risen from £ls/7 to £2, and the surplus-profit per quarter, compared with the regulating 
+price of A, has fallen from £\m to £1. But 1 x4i/2=£4 1/2 just as formerly I2/7 x3i/2=£4i/2. 
+
+Let us assume that a fourth and fifth additional investment of capital, amounting to £2i/2 each, are made 
+in B, which do no more than produce a quarter at its general price of production. The total product per 
+acre would then be 61/2 quarters and their price of production £15. The average price of production per 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch43.htm (14 of 20) [23/08/2000 16:04:55] 
+
+
+
+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Ch. 43 
+
+quarter for B would have risen again — from £2 [In the German 1894 edition this reads: 1. — Ed.] to £24/13 
+— and the surplus-profit per quarter, compared with the regulating price of production of A, would have 
+dropped again — from £1 to £9/13. But these £9/13 would now have to be calculated upon the basis of 61/2 
+quarters instead of 4i/2 quarters. And 9/13 x6i/2=lx4i/2=4i/2. 
+
+It follows from this, firstly, that no increase in the regulating price of production is necessary under these 
+circumstances, in order to make possible additional investments of capital in the rent-bearing soil — even 
+to the point where the additional capital completely ceases to produce surplus-profit and continues to 
+yield only the average profit. It follows furthermore that the total surplus-profit per acre remains the 
+same here, no matter how much surplus-profit per quarter may decrease; this decrease is always balanced 
+by a corresponding increase in the number of quarters produced per acre. In order that the average price 
+of production might reach the level of the general price of production (hence £3 for soil B), it is 
+necessary that supplementary investments be made whose output has a higher price of production than 
+the regulating one of £3. But we shall see that this alone does not suffice without further ado to raise the 
+average price of production per quarter of B to the general price of production of £3. 
+
+Let us assume that soil B produced: 
+
+1) 3 1/2 quarters whose price of production is, as before, £6, i.e., two investments of capital amounting to 
+£2 1/2 each both yielding surplus-profit, but of decreasing amount. 
+
+2)1 quarter at £3; an investment of capital in which the individual price of production is equal to the 
+regulating price of production. 
+
+3)1 quarter at £4; an investment of capital in which the individual price of production is higher by 33% 
+than the regulating price. 
+
+We should then have 5 1/2 quarters per acre for £13 with an investment of a capital of £107/io; this is four 
+times the original invested capital, but not quite three times the output of the first investment of capital. 
+
+5 1/2 quarters at £13 gives an average price of production of £24/n per quarter, i.e., an excess of £7/11 per 
+quarter, assuming the regulating price of production of £3. This excess may be transformed into rent. 5 1/2 
+quarters sold at the regulating price of production of £3 yield £16i/2. After deducting the production price 
+of £13, a surplus-profit, or rent, of £3 1/2 remains, which, calculated at the present average price of 
+production per quarter of B, that is, at £24/n per quarter, represents I25/52 quarters. The money-rent would 
+be lower by £1 and the grain-rent by about 1/2 quarter, but in spite of the fact that the fourth additional 
+investment of capital in B not only fails to yield surplus-profit, but yields less than the average profit, 
+surplus-profit, and rent still continue to exist. Let us assume that, in addition to investment 3), investment 
+
+2) also produces at a price exceeding the regulating price of production. Then the total production is: 3 1/2 
+quarters for £6+2 quarters for £8; total 5 1/2 quarters for £14 production price. The average price of 
+production per quarter would be £26/n and would leave an excess of £5/11. The 5 1/2 quarters, sold at £3, 
+give a total of £161/2; deducting the £14 production price leaves £2i/2 for rent. At the present average 
+price of production upon B, this would be equivalent to 55/56 of a quarter. In other words, rent is still 
+yielded although less than before. 
+
+This shows, at any rate, that with additional investments of capital in the better soils whose output costs 
+more than the regulating price of production the refit does not disappear — at least not within the bounds 
+of admissible practice — although it must decrease. It will decrease in proportion, on the one hand, to the 
+aliquot part formed by this less productive capital in the total investment of capital, and on the other 
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch43.htm (15 of 20) [23/08/2000 16:04:55] 
+
+
+
+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Ch. 43 
+
+hand, in proportion to the decrease in its productiveness. The average price of its produce would still lie 
+below the regulating price and would thus still permit surplus-profit to be formed that could be 
+transformed into rent. 
+
+Let us now assume that, as a result of four successive investments of capital (£2i/2; £2 1/2, £5 and £5) with 
+decreasing productivity, the average price per quarter of B coincides with the general price of production. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Price of Production 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Surplus for Rent 
+
+
+Capital 
+£ 
+
+
+Profit 
+£ 
+
+
+Out- 
+put 
+Qrs 
+
+
+PerQr 
+
+£ 
+
+
+Total 
+£ 
+
+
+Selling 
+
+Price 
+
+£ 
+
+
+Pro- 
+ceeds 
+£ 
+
+
+Qrs 
+
+
+£ 
+
+
+1) 
+
+
+2 1/2 
+
+
+1/2 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+I1/2 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+2) 
+
+
+2 1/2 
+
+
+1/2 
+
+
+I1/2 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+4l/2 
+
+
+1/2 
+
+
+I1/2 
+
+
+3) 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+1 1/2 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+4l/2 
+
+
+-1/2 
+
+
+-I1/2 
+
+
+4) 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+-1 
+
+
+-3 
+
+
+
+
+15 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+
+
+18 
+
+
+
+
+18 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+The farmer, in this case, sells every quarter at its individual price of production, and consequently the 
+total number of quarters at their average price of production per quarter, which coincides with the 
+regulating price of £3. Hence he still makes a profit of 20%=£3 upon his capital of £15. But the rent is 
+gone. What has become of the excess in this equalisation of the individual prices of production per 
+quarter with the general price of production? 
+
+The surplus-profit from the first £2i/2 was £3, from the second £2i/2 it was £1 1/2; total surplus-profit from 
+1/3 of the invested capital, that is, from £5=£4i/2=90%. 
+
+In the case of investment 3), the £5 not only fails to yield surplus-profit, but its output of I1/2 quarters, 
+sold at the general price of production, gives a deficit of £1 1/2. Finally, in the case of investment 4), 
+which likewise amounts to £5 its output of I quarter, sold at the general price of production, gives a 
+deficit of £3. Both investments of capital together thus give a deficit of £4 1/2, which is equal to the 
+surplus-profit of £4i/2, realised from investments 4) and 2). 
+
+The surplus-profit and deficit balance out. Therefore the rent disappears. In fact, this is possible only 
+because the elements of surplus-value, which formed surplus-profit or rent, now enter into the formation 
+of the average profit. The farmer' makes this average profit of £3 on £15, or 20%, at the expense of the 
+rent. 
+
+The equalisation of the individual average price of production of B to the general price of production of 
+A, which regulates the market-price, presupposes that the difference of the individual price of the 
+produce from the first investments of capital below the regulating price is more and more compensated 
+and finally balanced out by the difference of the price of the produce from the subsequent investments of 
+capital above the regulating price. What appears as surplus-profit, so long as the produce from the first 
+investments of capital is sold by itself, thus gradually becomes part of its average price of production, 
+and thereby enters into the formation of the average profit, until it is finally completely absorbed by it. 
+
+If only £5 are invested in B instead of £15 and the additional 2 1/2 quarters of the last table are produced 
+by taking 2 1/2 new acres of A under cultivation with an investment of £2i/2 per acre, then the additional 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch43.htm (16 of 20) [23/08/2000 16:04:55] 
+
+
+
+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Ch. 43 
+
+invested capital would amount to only £61/4, i.e., the total investment in A and B for the production of 
+these 6 quarters would be only £1 11/4, instead of £15, and their total price of production, including profit, 
+£13 1/2. The 6 quarters would still be sold for £18, but the investment of capital would have decreased by 
+£33/4, and the rent from B would be £4 1/2 per acre, as before. It would be different if the production of the 
+additional 2m quarters required that a soil inferior to A, for instance, A-I and A-2, be taken under 
+cultivation; so that the price of production per quarter would be: for I1/2 quarters on soil A-l=£4, and for 
+the last quarter on soil A-2=£6. In this case, £6 would be the regulating price of production per quarter. 
+The 3 1/2 quarters from B would then be sold for £21 instead of £10i/2, which would mean a rent of £15 
+instead of £4 1/2, or, a rent in grain of 2i/2 quarters instead of I1/2 quarters. Similarly, a quarter on A would 
+now yield a rent of £3=i/2 quarter. 
+
+Before discussing this point further, another observation: 
+
+The average price of a quarter from B is equalised, i.e., coincides with the general production price of £3 
+per quarter, regulated by A, as soon as that portion of the total capital which produces the excess of 1 1/2 
+quarters is balanced by that portion of the total capital which produces the deficit of I1/2 quarters. How 
+soon this equalisation is effected, or how much capital with under-productiveness must be invested in B 
+for this purpose, will depend, assuming the surplus-productivity of the first investments of capital to be 
+given, upon the relative under-productiveness of the later investments compared with an investment of 
+the same amount in the worst, regulating soil A, or upon the individual price of production of their 
+produce, compared with the regulating price. 
+
+
+
+The following conclusions can now be drawn from the foregoing: 
+
+First: So long as the additional capitals are invested in the same land with surplus-productivity, even if 
+the surplus-productivity is decreasing, the absolute rent per acre in grain and money increases, although 
+it decreases relatively, in proportion to the advanced capital (in other words, the rate of surplus-profit or 
+rent). The limit is established here by that additional capital which yields only the average profit, or for 
+whose produce the individual price of production coincides with the general price of production. The 
+price of production remains the same under these circumstances, unless the production from the poorer 
+soils becomes superfluous as a result of increased supply. Even when the price is falling, these additional 
+capitals may within certain limits still produce surplus-profit, though less of it. 
+
+Secondly: The investment of additional capital yielding only the average profit, whose 
+surplus-productivity therefore=0, does not alter in any way the amount of the existing surplus-profit, and 
+consequently of rent. The individual average price per quarter increases thereby upon the superior soils; 
+the excess per quarter decreases, but the number of quarters which contain this decreased excess 
+increases, so that the mathematical product remains the same. 
+
+Thirdly: Additional investments of capital, the produce of which has an individual price of production 
+exceeding the regulating price — the surplus-productivity is therefore not merely =0, but less than zero, or 
+a negative quantity, that is, less than the productivity of an equal investment of capital in the regulating 
+soil A — bring the individual average price of production of the total output from the superior soil closer 
+and closer to the general price of production, i.e., reduce more and more the difference between them 
+which constitutes the surplus-profit, or rent. An increasingly greater part of what constituted 
+surplus-profit or rent enters into the formation of the average profit. But nevertheless, the total capital 
+invested in an acre of B continues to yield surplus-profit, although the latter decreases as the amount of 
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch43.htm (17 of 20) [23/08/2000 16:04:55] 
+
+
+
+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Ch. 43 
+
+capital with under-productiveness increases and to the extent of this under-productiveness. The rent, with 
+increasing capital and increasing production, in this case decreases absolutely per acre, not merely 
+relatively with reference to the increasing magnitude of the invested capital, as in the second case. 
+
+The rent can be eliminated only when the individual average price of production of the total output from 
+the better soil B coincides with the regulating price, so that the entire surplus-profit from the first more 
+productive investments of capital is consumed in the formation of average profit. 
+
+The minimum limit of the drop in rent per acre is that point at which it disappears. But this point does not 
+occur as soon as the additional investments of capital are under-productive, but rather as soon as the 
+additional investment of under-productive capital becomes so large in magnitude that its effect is to 
+cancel the over-productiveness of the first investments of capital, so that the productiveness of the total 
+invested capital becomes the same as that of the capital invested in A, and the individual average price 
+per quarter of B becomes therefore the same as that per quarter of A. 
+
+In this case too, the regulating price of production, £3 per quarter, would remain the same, although the 
+rent had disappeared. Only beyond this point would the price of production have to rise in consequence 
+of an increase either in the extent of under-productiveness of the additional capital or in the magnitude of 
+the additional capital of equal under-productiveness. For instance, if, in the above table 2m quarters were 
+produced instead of 1 1/2 quarters upon the same soil at £4 per quarter, we would have had a total of 7 
+quarters for £22 price of production; a quarter would have cost £3 1/7; it would thus be £1/7 above the 
+general price of production, and the latter would therefore have to rise. 
+
+For a long time, then, additional capital with under-productiveness, or even increasing 
+under-productiveness, might be invested until the individual average price per quarter from the best soils 
+became equal to the general price of production, until the excess of the latter over the former — and 
+thereby the surplus-profit and the rent — entirely disappeared. 
+
+And even then, the disappearance of rent from the better soils would only signify that the individual 
+average price of their produce coincides with the general price of production, so that an increase in the 
+latter would not yet be required. 
+
+In the above illustration, upon better soil B — which is however the lowest in the sequence of better or 
+rent-bearing soils — 3 1/2 quarters were produced by a capital of £5 with surplus-productiveness and 2i/2 
+quarters by a capital of £10 with under-productiveness, i.e., a total of 6 quarters; 55/12 of this total is thus 
+produced by the latter portions of capital with under-productiveness. And it is only at this point that the 
+individual average price of production of the 6 quarters rises to £3 per quarter and thus coincides with the 
+general price of production. 
+
+Under the law of landed property, however, the latter 2m quarters could not have been produced in this 
+way at £3 per quarter, except when they could be produced upon 2m new acres of soil A. The case in 
+which the additional capital produces only at the general price of production, would have constituted the 
+limit. Beyond this point, the additional investment of capital in the same land would have had to cease. 
+
+Indeed, if, the farmer once pays £4i/2 rent for the first two investments of capital, he must continue to pay 
+it, and every investment of capital which produced a quarter for more than £3 [In the German 1894 
+edition this reads: for less than £3. — Ed.] would result in a deduction from his profit. The equalisation of 
+the individual average price, in the case of under-productiveness, is thereby prevented. 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch43.htm (18 of 20) [23/08/2000 16:04:55] 
+
+
+
+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Ch. 43 
+
+Let us take this case in the previous illustration, where the price of production for soil A, £3 per quarter, 
+regulates the price for B. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Selling Price 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Capital 
+£ 
+
+
+Profit 
+£ 
+
+
+Price of 
+
+Production 
+
+£ 
+
+
+Output 
+Qrs 
+
+
+Price of 
+
+Production 
+
+per Qr £ 
+
+
+PerQr 
+
+£ 
+
+
+Total 
+
+£ 
+
+
+Surplus- 
+Profit 
+£ 
+
+
+Loss 
+£ 
+
+
+2 1/2 
+
+
+1/2 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+1 1/2 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+2 1/2 
+
+
+1/2 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+1 1/2 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+4l/2 
+
+
+ll/2 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1 1/2 
+
+
+4* 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+4l/2 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+1 1/2 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+15 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+18 
+
+
+4 1/2 
+
+
+4 1/2 
+
+
+
+[* In the German 1894 edition this reads: 3. — Ed.] 
+
+The price of production for the 3 1/2 quarters in the first two investments of capital is likewise £3 per 
+quarter for the farmer, since he has to pay a rent of £4 1/2; thus the difference between his individual price 
+of production and the general price of production is not pocketed by him. For him, then, the excess in 
+produce price for the first two investments of capital cannot serve to balance out the deficit incurred by 
+the produce in the third and fourth investments of capital. 
+
+The 1 1/2 quarters from investment 3) cost the farmer £6, profit included: but at the regulating price of £3 
+per quarter, he can sell them for only £4i/2. In other words, he would not only lose his whole profit, but 
+£1/2, or 10% of his invested capital of £5, over and above it. The loss of profit and capital in the case of 
+investment 3) would amount to £4i/2, and in the case of investment 4) to £3, i.e., a total of £4i/2, or just as 
+much as the rent from the better investments of capital; the individual price of production for the latter, 
+however, cannot take part in equalising the individual average price of production of the total product 
+from B, because the excess is paid out as rent to a third party. 
+
+If it were necessary, to meet the demand, to produce the additional I1/2 quarters by the third investment of 
+capital the regulating market-price would have to rise to £4 per quarter. In consequence of this rise in the 
+regulating market-price, the rent from B would rise for the first and second investments, and rent would 
+he formed upon A. 
+
+Thus although differential rent is but a formal transformation of surplus-profit into rent, and property in 
+land merely enables the owner in this case to transfer the surplus-profit of the farmer to himself, we find 
+nevertheless that successive investment of capital in the same land, or, what amounts to the same thing, 
+the increase in capital invested in the same land, reaches its limit far more rapidly when the rate of 
+productiveness of the capital decreases and the regulating price remains the same; in fact a more or less 
+artificial barrier is reached as a consequence of the mere formal transformation of surplus-profit into 
+ground-rent, which is the result of landed property. The rise in the general price of production, which 
+becomes necessary here within more narrow limits than otherwise, is in this case not merely the cause of 
+the increase in differential rent, but the existence of differential rent as rent is at the same time the reason 
+for the earlier and more rapid rise in the general price of production — in order to ensure thereby the 
+increased supply of produce that has become necessary. 
+
+The following should furthermore be noted: 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch43.htm (19 of 20) [23/08/2000 16:04:55] 
+
+
+
+Marx: Capital Vol. 3 Ch. 43 
+
+By an additional investment of capital in soil B, the regulating price could not, as above, rise to £4 if soil 
+A were to supply the additional produce below £4 by a second investment of capital, or if new and worse 
+soil than A, whose price of production were indeed higher than £3 but lower than £4, were to enter into 
+competition. We see, then, that differential rent I and differential rent II, while the first is the basis of the 
+second, serve simultaneously as limits for one another, whereby now a successive investment of capital 
+in the same land, now an investment of capital side by side in new additional land, is made. In like 
+manner they limit each other in other cases; for instance, when better soil is taken up. 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 44 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch43.htm (20 of 20) [23/08/2000 16:04:55] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 44 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Part VI 
+
+TRANSFORMATION OF SURPLUS-PROFIT 
+
+INTO GROUND RENT 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 44 
+
+
+
+Differential Rent Also on the Worst Cultivated Soil 
+
+
+
+Let us assume the demand for grain is rising, and the supply can only result from successive investments 
+of capital under conditions of under-productiveness in the rent-bearing soils, or by additional investment 
+of capital, also with decreasing productivity, in soil A, or by the investment of capital in new lands of 
+inferior quality than A. 
+
+Let us take soil B as representative of the rent-bearing soils. 
+
+The additional investment of capital demands an increase in the market-price above the hitherto 
+prevailing price of production of £3 per quarter, in order to make possible the increased production upon 
+B of one quarter (which may here stand for one million quarters, just as every acre may stand for one 
+million acres). Increased output may also be yielded by soils C and D, etc., the soils bearing the highest 
+rent, but only with decreasing surplus-productiveness; but it is assumed that the quarter from B is 
+necessary in order to meet the demand. If this quarter is more cheaply produced by investing more capital 
+in B than with the same addition of capital to A, or by descending to soil A — 1, which may, e.g., require 
+£4 to produce a quarter, whereas the addition to capital A might do so for £33/4, then the additional 
+capital on B will regulate the market-price. 
+
+A produces a quarter for £3, as heretofore. Similarly B, as before, produces a total of 3 1/2 quarters at an 
+individual price of production of £6 for its total output. Now, if an additional £4 of production price 
+(including profit) becomes necessary on B in order to produce an additional quarter, whereas it could 
+have been produced on A for £33/4, then it would naturally be produced on A, rather than on B. Let us 
+assume, then, that it can be produced on B with the additional price of production of £3 1/2. In this case, 
+£3 1/2 would become the regulating price for the entire output. B would now sell its present output of 4i/2 
+quarters for £153/4. Of this £6 is the price of production for the first 3 1/2 quarters and the £3 1/2 for the last 
+quarter, i.e., a total of £9i/2. This leaves a surplus-profit for rent=£6i/4 as against the former £4i/2. In this 
+case, an acre of A would also yield a rent of £li/2; but it would not be the worst soil A, but rather the 
+better soil B that would regulate the price of production of £3 1/2. Of course, we assume here that new soil 
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch44.htm (1 of 7) [23/08/2000 16:05:00] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 44 
+
+of quality A and equally favourable location as that hitherto cultivated is not available, but that either a 
+second investment of capital in the already cultivated plot A at a higher price of production, or the 
+cultivation of an even poorer soil A — 1, is required. As soon as differential rent II comes into force 
+through successive investments of capital, the limits of the rising price of production may be regulated by 
+better soil; and the worst soil, the basis of differential rent I, may also yield rent. This, even with a single 
+differential rent, all cultivated land would yield rent. We would then have the following two tables, 
+where by price of production we mean the sum of the invested capital plus 20% profit; in other words, on 
+every £2 1/2 of capital £1/2 of profit or a total of £3. 
+
+
+
+Type 
+
+of 
+
+Soil 
+
+
+Acres 
+
+
+Price Of 
+Produc- 
+tion 
+£ 
+
+
+Output 
+Qrs 
+
+
+Selling 
+Price 
+
+£ 
+
+
+Pro- 
+ceeds 
+£ 
+
+
+Grain- 
+Rent 
+Qrs 
+
+
+Money- 
+Rent 
+£ 
+
+
+A 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+B 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+3 1/2 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+IO1/2 
+
+
+I1/2 
+
+
+4l/2 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+5 1/2 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+16 1/2 
+
+
+3 1/2 
+
+
+IO1/2 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+7 1/2 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+22 1/2 
+
+
+5 1/2 
+
+
+16 1/2 
+
+
+Total 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+21 
+
+
+17l/2 
+
+
+
+
+5 2 1/2 
+
+
+IO1/2 
+
+
+31 1/2 
+
+
+
+This is the state of affairs before the new capital of £3 1/2, which yields only one quarter, is invested in B. 
+After this investment, the situation looks as follows: 
+
+
+
+Type 
+
+of 
+
+Soil 
+
+
+Acres 
+
+
+Price Of 
+Produc- 
+tion 
+£ 
+
+
+Output 
+Qrs 
+
+
+Selling 
+Price 
+
+£ 
+
+
+Pro- 
+ceeds 
+£ 
+
+
+Grain- 
+Rent 
+Qrs 
+
+
+Money- 
+Rent 
+£ 
+
+
+A 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+3 1/2 
+
+
+3 1/2 
+
+
+1/7 
+
+
+1/2 
+
+
+B 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+9l/2 
+
+
+4l/2 
+
+
+3 1/2 
+
+
+153/4 
+
+
+In/14 
+
+
+61/4 
+
+
+C 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+5 1/2 
+
+
+3 1/2 
+
+
+19 1/4 
+
+
+3 11/14 
+
+
+13 1/4 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+7 1/2 
+
+
+3 1/2 
+
+
+261/4 
+
+
+5 11/14 
+
+
+20i/4 
+
+
+Total 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+24i/2 
+
+
+18 1/2 
+
+
+
+
+643/4 
+
+
+11 1/2 
+
+
+40i/4 
+
+
+
+[This, again, is not quite correctly calculated. First of all, the cost of the 4i/2 qrs for farmer B is, in the 
+first place, £9i/2: in price of production and, secondly, £4i/2 in rent, i.e., a total of £14; average per 
+quarter=£3 1/2. This average price of his total production thus becomes the regulating market-price. Thus, 
+the rent on A would amount to £1/9 instead of £1/2, and that on B would remain £4i/2 as heretofore; 4i/2 qrs 
+at £3i/2=£14 and, if we deduct £9 1/2 in price of production, £4i/2 remain for surplus-profit. We see, then, 
+that in spite of the required change in numerical values this illustration shows how, by means of 
+differential rent II, better soil, already yielding rent, may regulate the price and thus transform all soil, 
+even hitherto rentless, into rent-bearing soil. — F. E.] 
+
+The grain-rent must rise as soon as the regulating price of production of the grain rises, i.e., as soon as 
+the price of production of a quarter of grain from the regulating soil, or the regulating invested capital in 
+one of the various soil types, rises. It is the same as though all soils had become less productive and 
+produced, e.g., only 5/7 quarter instead of 1 quarter with every new investment of £2i/2. Whatever else 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 44 
+
+they produce in grain with the same investment of capital is transformed into surplus-product, which 
+represents the surplus-profit and therefore the rent. Assuming the rate of profit remains the same, the 
+farmer can buy less grain with his profit. The rate of profit may remain the same if wages do not rise — 
+either because they are depressed to the physical minimum, i.e., below the normal value of labour-power; 
+or because the other articles of consumption needed by the labourer and supplied by manufacture have 
+become relatively cheaper; or because the working day has become longer or more intensive, so that the 
+rate of profit in non-agricultural lines of production, which, however, regulates the agricultural profit, has 
+remained the same or has risen; or, finally, because more constant and less variable capital is employed 
+in agriculture, even though the amount of capital invested is the same. 
+
+We have thus considered the first method by which rent may arise on the hitherto worst soil A without 
+taking still worse soil under cultivation; that is, rent may arise from the difference between its individual, 
+hitherto regulating, price of production and the new, higher price of production, whereby the last 
+additional capital employed under conditions of under-productiveness upon the better soil supplies the 
+necessary additional produce. 
+
+If the additional produce had to be supplied by soil A — 1 , which cannot produce a quarter for less than 
+£4, then the rent per acre of A would have risen to £1. But, in this case, soil A — 1 would have taken the 
+place of A as the worst cultivated soil, and the latter would have moved into the lowest position in the 
+sequence of rent-bearing soils. Differential rent I would have changed. This case, then, is not included in 
+the consideration of differential rent II, which arises from the varying produc-tiveness of successive 
+investments of capital in the same piece of land. 
+
+But aside from this, differential rent may arise on soil A in two other ways. 
+
+With the price unchanged — any given price, even a lower one compared to former ones — when the 
+additional investment of capital results in surplus-productiveness, which prima facie, and up to a certain 
+point must always be the case precisely on the worst soil. 
+
+Secondly, however, when the productiveness of successive in- vestments of capital in soil A decreases. 
+
+It is assumed in both cases that the increased production is required to meet demand. 
+
+But from the point of view of differential rent, a peculiar difficulty arises here owing to the previously 
+developed law — according to which it is always the individual average price of production per quarter 
+for the total production (or the total outlay of capital) which acts as the determining factor. In the case of 
+soil A, however, there is not, as in the cases of the better soils, another price of production which limits 
+for new investments of capital the equalisation of the individual with the general price of production. For 
+the individual price of production of A is precisely the general price of production regulating the 
+market-price. 
+
+Let us assume: 
+
+1) When the productiveness of successive investments of capital is increasing, 1 acre of A will produce 3 
+qrs instead of 2 qrs given an investment of £5 — corresponding to a price of production of £6. The first 
+investment of £2i/2 yielded 1 qr, the second — 2 qrs. In this case, a price of production of £6 will yield 3 
+qrs, so that the average cost of a quarter will be £2; i.e., if the 3 qrs are sold at £2 per quarter, then A, as 
+heretofore, does not yield any rent, but only the basis of differential rent II has been altered; the 
+regulating price of production is now £2 instead of £3; a capital of £2i/2 now produces an average of I1/2 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 44 
+
+qrs on the worst soil, instead of 1 qr, and now this is the official productivity for all better soils given an 
+investment of £2 1/2. From now on, a portion of their former surplus-product enters into the formation of 
+their necessary output, just as a portion of their surplus-profit enters into forming the average profit. 
+
+On the other hand, if the calculation is made upon the basis of better soils, where the average calculation 
+does not alter the absolute surplus at all, because for them the general price of production is the limit for 
+the investment of capital, then a quarter from the first investment of capital costs £3 and the 2 qrs from 
+the second investment cost only £1 1/2 each. This would thereby give rise to a grain-rent of 1 qr and a 
+money-rent of £3 on A, but the 3 qrs would be sold for the old price of £9. If a third investment of £2i/2 
+were made under conditions of the same productiveness as the second investment, then the total would 
+be 5 qrs for a price of production of £9. If the individual average price of production of A should remain 
+the regulating price, then a quarter would now be sold at £1 4/5. The average price would have fallen once 
+more — not through a new rise in productiveness of the third investment of capital, but merely through 
+the addition of a new investment of capital having the same additional productiveness as the second. 
+Instead of raising the rent as on the rent-bearing soils, the successive investments of capital in soil A of 
+higher, but constant productiveness would proportionally lower the price of production and thereby, 
+everything else being equal, the differential rent on all other soils. On the other hand, if the first 
+investment of capital which produces 1 qr at a price of production of £3 should in itself remain 
+regulating, then 5 qrs would be sold for £15, and the differential rent of the later investments of capital in 
+soil A would amount to £6. The additional capital per acre of soil A, however it is. applied, would be an 
+improvement in this case, and would make the original portion of capital more productive. It would be 
+ridiculous to say that 1/3 of the capital had produced 4 qr and the other 2/3 — 4 qrs. For £9 per acre would 
+always produce 5 qrs, while £3 would produce only 1 qr. Whether or not a rent would arise here, whether 
+or not a surplus-profit would be derived, would depend wholly upon the circumstances. Normally the 
+regulating price of production would have to fall. This would be the case, if this improved but more 
+expensive cultivation of soil A should occur only because it also takes place on the better soils, in other 
+words, if a general revolution in agriculture should occur; so that when we now refer to the natural 
+fertility of soil A, it is assumed that it is worked with £6 or £9 instead of £3. This would particularly 
+apply if the bulk of cultivated acres of soil A, which furnish the main supply of a given country, should 
+employ this new method. But if the improvement should at first extend only to a small area of A, then 
+this better cultivated portion would yield a surplus-profit, which the landlord would be quick to transform 
+wholly or in part into rent, and to fix in the form of rent. In this way — if the demand kept pace with the 
+increasing supply — as more and more of soil A began to employ the new method of cultivation, rent 
+might be gradually formed on all soil of quality A, and the surplus-productivity might be eliminated 
+wholly or in part, depending on market conditions. The equalisation of the price of production of A to the 
+average price of its produce obtained under conditions of increased outlay of capital might thus be 
+prevented by fixing the surplus-profit of this increased investment of capital in the form of rent. Thus, as 
+was previously seen to be the case for the better soils when the productiveness of the additional capital 
+decreased, it would again be the transformation of surplus-profit into ground-rent, i.e., the intervention of 
+property in land, which would raise the price of production, instead of the differential rent merely being 
+the result of the difference between the individual and the general price of production. It would prevent, 
+in the case of soil A, the coincidence of both prices because it would interfere with the regulation of the 
+price of production by the average price of production on A; it would thus maintain a higher price of 
+production than necessary and thereby create rent. Even if grain were freely imported from abroad, the 
+same result could be brought about or perpetuated by compelling farmers to use soil capable of 
+competing in grain cultivation without yielding rent, at the price of production regulated from abroad, for 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 44 
+
+other purposes, e.g., pasturage, so that only rent-bearing soils would be used for grain cultivation, i.e., 
+only soils whose individual average price of production per quarter were below that determined from 
+abroad. On the whole, it is to be assumed that in the given case, the price of production will fall, but not 
+to the level of its average; it will be higher than the average, but below the price of production of the 
+worst cultivated soil A, so that the competition from new soil A is limited. 
+
+2) When the productiveness of additional capitals is decreasing. Let us assume that soil A — 1 requires 
+£4 to produce the additional quarter, whereas soil A produces it for £33/4, i.e., more cheaply, but still 
+£3/4more dearly than the quarter produced by its first investment of capital. In this case, the total price of 
+the two quarters produced upon A would=£63/4; thus the average price per quarter=£33/4. The price of 
+production would rise, but only by £3/8, whereas it would rise by another 3/8 or to £33/4, if the additional 
+capital were invested in new land which produced at £33/4, and it would thus bring about a proportional 
+increase in all other differential rents. 
+
+The price of production of £3 3/8 per quarter for A would thus be equalised to its average price of 
+production with an increased Investment of capital, and would be the regulating price; thus, it would not 
+yield any rent, since it would not produce any surplus-profit. 
+
+However, if this quarter, produced by the second investment of capital, were sold for £33/4, soil A would 
+now yield a rent of £3/4, and indeed, on all acres of A in which no additional investment of capital had 
+taken place and which thus would still produce at £3 per quarter. So long as any uncultivated fields of A 
+remain, the price could rise only temporarily to £33/4. Competition from new fields of A would hold the 
+price of production at £3 until all land of type A, whose favourable location enables it to produce a 
+quarter at less than £33/4, would be exhausted. This is then what we would assume, although the landlord, 
+so long as an acre of land yields rent, will not let a tenant farmer have another acre rent-free. 
+
+It would again depend to what extent a second investment of capital in the available soil A had become 
+general, whether the price of production is equalised at the average price or whether the individual price 
+of production of the second investment of capital becomes regulating at £33/4. The latter occurs only 
+when the landowner has sufficient time until demand is satisfied to fix as rent the surplus-profit derived 
+at the price of £33/4 per qr. 
+
+Concerning decreasing productiveness of the soil with successive investments of capital, see Liebig. 
+[Liebig, Die Chemie in ihrer Anwendung auf Agricultur und Physiologie, Braunschweig, 1862. — Ed.] 
+We have observed that the successive decrease in surplus-productiveness of invested capital invariably 
+increases the rent per acre, so long as the price of production remains constant, and that this may occur 
+even with a falling price of production. 
+
+But, in general, the following is to be noted. 
+
+From the standpoint of the capitalist mode of production, a relative increase in the price of products 
+always takes place when these products cannot be secured unless an expenditure or payment not 
+previously made is incurred. For by the replacement of capital consumed in production we mean only the 
+replacement of values represented by certain means of production. Natural elements entering as agents 
+into production, and which cost nothing, no matter what role they play in production, do not enter as 
+components of capital, but as a free gift of Nature to capital, that is, as a free gift of Nature's productive 
+power to labour, which, however, appears as the productiveness of capital, as all other productivity under 
+the capitalist mode of production. Therefore, if such a natural power, which originally costs nothing, 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 44 
+
+takes part in production, it does not enter into the determination of price, so long as the product which it 
+helped to produce suffices to meet the demand. But if in the course of development, a larger output is 
+demanded than that which can be supplied with the help of this natural power, i.e., if this additional 
+output must be created without the help of this natural power, or by assisting it with human 
+labour-power, then a new additional element enters into capital. A relatively larger investment of capital 
+is thus required in order to secure the same output. All other circumstances remaining the same, a rise in 
+the price of production takes place. 
+
+
+
+(From a note-book "begun in mid-February 1876." [F.E.J) 
+
+Differential rent and rent as mere interest on capital incorporated in the soil. 
+
+The so-called permanent improvements — which change the physical, and, in part, also the chemical 
+conditions of the soil by means of operations requiring an expenditure of capital, and which may be 
+regarded as an incorporation of capital in the soil — nearly all amount to giving a particular piece of land 
+in a certain limited locality such properties as are naturally possessed by some other piece of land 
+elsewhere, sometimes quite near by. One piece of land is naturally level, another has to be levelled; one 
+possesses natural drainage, another requires artificial drainage; one is endowed by Nature with a deep 
+layer of top soil, another needs artificial deepening; one clay soil is naturally mixed with the proper 
+amount of sand, another has to be treated to obtain this proportion; one meadow is naturally irrigated or 
+covered with layers of silt, another requires labour to obtain this condition, or, in the language of 
+bourgeois economics, it requires capital. 
+
+It is indeed a truly amusing theory, whereby here, in the case of one piece of land whose comparative 
+advantages have been acquired, rent is interest, whereas in the case of another piece of land which 
+possesses these advantages naturally, it is not interest. (In fact, this is so distorted in practice that since 
+rent really coincides in the one case with interest, it is falsely also called interest in the other cases, where 
+this is positively not the case.) However, land yields rent after capital is invested not because capital is 
+invested, but because the invested capital makes this land more productive than it formerly was. 
+Assuming that all the land of a given country requires this investment of capital, every piece of land 
+which has not received it must first pass through this stage, and the rent (interest yielded in the given 
+case) borne by land already provided with investment of capital constitutes differential rent just as 
+though it naturally possessed this advantage and the other land had first to acquire it artificially. 
+
+This rent too, which may be resolved into interest, becomes pure differential rent as soon as the invested 
+capital is amortised. Otherwise, one and the same capital would have to exist twice as capital. 
+
+
+
+A most amusing phenomenon is that all opponents of Ricardo who oppose the idea that value 
+determination is based exclusively on labour rather than regarding differential rent as arising from 
+differences in soil, point out that here Nature rather than labour determines value; but at the same time 
+they credit this determination to the location of the land, or — and to an even greater extent — the interest 
+on capital put into the land during its cultivation. The same labour produces the same value in a product 
+created during a given period of time; but the magnitude or quantum of this product, and consequently 
+also the portion of value associated with some aliquot part of this product, depends for a given quantity 
+of labour solely upon the quantum of product, and the latter, in turn, depends upon the productivity of the 
+given quantum of labour rather than the absolute magnitude of this quantum. It is immaterial whether this 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 44 
+
+productivity is due to Nature or to society. Only in the case when the productivity itself costs labour, and 
+consequently capital, does it increase the price of production by a new element — which Nature by itself 
+does not do. 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 45 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 45 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Part VI 
+
+TRANSFORMATION OF SURPLUS-PROFIT 
+
+INTO GROUND RENT 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 45 
+
+
+
+Absolute Ground-Rent 
+
+
+
+In the analysis of differential rent we proceeded from the assumption that the worst soil does not pay any 
+ground-rent; or, to put it more generally, only such land pays ground-rent whose product has an 
+individual price of production below the price of production regulating the market, so that in this manner 
+a surplus-profit arises which is transformed into rent. It is to be noted, to begin with, that the law of 
+differential rent as such is entirely independent of the correctness or incorrectness of this assumption. 
+
+Let us call the general price of production, by which the market is regulated, P. Then, P coincides with 
+the individual price of production of the output of the worst Soil A; i.e., its price pays for the constant 
+and variable capital consumed in production plus the average profit (=profit of enterprise plus interest). 
+
+The rent in this case is equal to zero. The individual price of production of the next better soil B is=P', 
+and P>P'; that is, P pays for more than the actual price of production of the product of soil B. Let us now 
+assume that P-P'=d; d, the excess of P over P', is therefore the surplus-profit which the farmer of soil 
+type B realises. This d is transformed into rent, which must be paid to the landlord. Let P" be the actual 
+price of production of the third type of soil C, and P-P"=2d; then this 2d is converted into rent; similarly, 
+let V" be the individual price of production of the fourth type of soil D, and P-P"'=3d, which is 
+transformed into ground-rent, etc. Now let us assume the premise for soil A, that rent=0 and therefore the 
+price of its product=P+0, is erroneous. Assume rather that it, too, yields rent=r. In that case, two different 
+conclusions follow. 
+
+First : The price of the product of soil A would not be regulated by the price of production on the latter, 
+but would include an excess above this price, i.e., would be=P+r. Because assuming the capitalist mode 
+of production to be functioning normally, that is, assuming that the excess r which the farmer pays to the 
+landlord represents neither a deduction from wages nor from the average profit of capital, the farmer can 
+only pay it by selling the product above its price of production, thus, yielding him surplus-profit if he did 
+not have to turn over this excess to the landlord in the form of rent. The regulating market-price of the 
+total out-put on the market derived from all soils would then not be the price of production which capital 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 45 
+
+generally yields in all spheres of production, i.e., a price equal to costs plus average profit, but rather the 
+price of production plus the rent, P+r, and not P. For the price of the product of soil A represents 
+generally the limit of the regulating general market-price, i.e., the price at which the total product can be 
+supplied, and to that extent it regulates the price of this total product. 
+
+But secondly. Although the general price of agricultural products would in this case be significantly 
+modified, the law of differential rent would nevertheless in no way lose its force. For if the price of the 
+product of soil A, and thereby the general market-price=P+r, the price for soils B, C, D, etc., would 
+like-wise=P+r. But since P-P'=d for soil B, then (P+r)-(P'+r) would likewise=d, and 
+P-P"=(P+r)-(P"+r)=2d for soil C; and finally P-P'"=(P+r)-(P'"+r)=3d for soil D, etc. Thus the 
+differential rent would be the same as before and would be regulated by the same law, although the rent 
+would include an element independent of this law and would show a general increase together with the 
+price of the agricultural product. It follows, then, that no matter what the case may be as regards the rent 
+of the least fertile soils, the law of differential rent is not only independent of it, but that the only manner 
+of grasping differential rent in keeping with its character is to let the rent on soil A=0. Whether this 
+actually=0 or >0 is immaterial so far as the differential rent is concerned, and, in fact, does not come into 
+consideration. 
+
+The law of differential rent, then, is independent of the results of the following study. 
+
+If we were now to inquire more deeply into the basis of the assumption that the product of the worst soil 
+A does not yield any rent, the answer would of necessity be as follows: If the market-price of the 
+agricultural product, say grain, attains that level where an additional investment of capital in soil A 
+results in the usual price of production, i.e., the usual average profit on the capital is yielded, then this 
+condition suffices for investing the additional capital in soil A. In other words, this condition is sufficient 
+for the capitalist to invest new capital yielding the usual profit and to employ it in the normal manner. 
+
+It should be noted here that in this case, too, the market-price must be higher than the price of production 
+of A. For as soon as the additional supply is created, it is evident that the relation between supply and 
+demand becomes altered. Formerly the supply was insufficient. Now it is sufficient. Hence the price must 
+fall. In order to fall, it must have been higher than the price of production of A. But due to the fact that 
+soil A newly taken under cultivation is less fertile, the price does not fall again as low as when the price 
+of production of soil B regulated the market. The price of production of A constitutes the limit, not for 
+the temporary but for the relatively permanent rise of the market-price. On the other hand, if the new soil 
+taken under cultivation is more fertile than the hitherto regulating soil A, and yet only suffices to meet 
+the increased demand, then the market-price remains unchanged. The investigation of the question 
+whether the poorest type of soil yields rent, however, coincides in this case too with our present inquiry, 
+for here too the assumption that soil A does not yield any rent would be explained by the fact that the 
+market-price is sufficient for the capitalist farmer to exactly cover, with this price, the invested capital 
+plus the average profit; in brief, it would be explained by the fact that the market-price yields him the 
+price of production of his commodities. 
+
+At any rate, the capitalist farmer can cultivate soil A under these conditions, inasmuch as he, as capitalist, 
+has such power of decision. The prerequisite for the normal expansion of capital in soil A is now present. 
+But from the premise that the capitalist farmer can now invest capital in soil A under average conditions 
+for the expansion of capital, even if he did not have to pay any rent, it nowise follows that this land, 
+belonging to category A, is now at the disposal of the farmer without further ado. The fact that the tenant 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 45 
+
+farmer could realise the usual profit on his capital did he not have to pay any rent, is by no means a basis 
+for the landlord to lend his land gratis to the farmer and to become so philanthropic as to grant credit 
+gratuit for the sake of a business friendship. Such an assumption would mean the abstraction of landed 
+property, the elimination of land-ownership, and it is precisely the existence of the latter that constitutes a 
+limitation to the investment of capital and the free expansion of capital in the land. This limitation does 
+not at all disappear before the simple reflection of the farmer that the level of grain prices would enable 
+him to realise the usual profit from the investment of his capital in the exploitation of soil A did he not 
+have to pay any rent; in other words, if he could proceed in effect as though landed property did not exist. 
+But differential rent presupposes the existence of a monopoly in land ownership, landed property as a 
+limitation to capital, for without it surplus-profit would not be transformed into ground-rent nor fall to 
+the share of the landlord instead of the farmer. And landed property as a limitation continues to exist 
+even when rent in the form of differential rent disappears, i.e., on soil A. If we consider the cases in a 
+country with capitalist production, where the investment of capital in the land can take place without 
+payment of rent, we shall find that they are all based on a de facto abolition of landed property, if not 
+also the legal abolition; this, however, can only take place under very specific circumstances which are 
+by their very nature accidental. 
+
+First : When the landlord is himself a capitalist, or the capitalist is himself a landlord. In this case he may 
+himself manage his land as soon as market-price has risen sufficiently to enable him to get, from what is 
+now soil A, the price of production, that is, replacement of capital plus average profit. But why? Because 
+for him landed property does not constitute an obstacle to the investment of capital. He can treat his land 
+simply as an element of Nature and therefore be guided solely by considerations of expansion of his 
+capital, by capitalist considerations. Such cases occur in practice, but only as exceptions. Just as capitalist 
+cultivation of the soil presupposes the separation of functioning capital from landed property, so does it 
+as a rule exclude self-management of landed property. It is immediately evident that this case is a purely 
+accidental one. If the increased demand for grain requires the cultivation of a larger area of soil type A 
+than is in the hands of self-managing proprietors, in other words, if a part of it must be rented to be at all 
+cultivated, then this hypothetical lifting of the limitation created by landed property to the investment of 
+capital at once collapses. It is an absurd contradiction to start out with the differentiation under the 
+capitalist mode of production between capital and land, farmers and landlords, and then to turn round and 
+assume that landlords, as a rule, manage their own land wherever and whenever capital would not draw 
+rent from the cultivation of the soil if landed property were not separate and distinct from it. (See the 
+passage by Adam Smith concerning mining rent, quoted below.) This abolition of landed property is 
+fortuitous. It may or may not occur. 
+
+Secondly: In the total area of a leasehold there may be certain portions which do not yield any rent at the 
+existing level of market-prices, so that they are in fact loaned gratis; but the landlord does not look upon 
+it in that light, because he sees the total rental of the leased land, not the specific rent of the individual 
+component plots. In this case, as regards the rentless component plots of the leasehold, landed property 
+as a limitation to the investment of capital is eliminated for the capitalist farmer; and this, indeed, by 
+contract with the landlord himself. But he does not pay rent for these plots merely because he pays rent 
+for the land associated with them. A combination is here presupposed whereby poorer soil A does not 
+have to be resorted to as a distinctly new field of production in order to produce the deficit supply, but 
+rather whereby it merely constitutes an inseparable part of the better land. But the case to be investigated 
+is precisely that in which certain pieces of land of soil type A must be independently managed, i.e., for 
+the conditions generally prevailing under the capitalist mode of production, they must be independently 
+
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+leased. 
+
+Thirdly: A farmer may invest additional capital in the same leasehold even if the additional product 
+secured in this manner yields him only the price of production at the prevailing market-prices, i.e., 
+provides him with the usual profit but does not enable him to pay any additional rent. He thus pays 
+ground-rent with one portion of the capital invested in the land, but not with the other. How little this 
+assumption helps to solve the problem, however, is seen from the following: If the market-price (and the 
+fertility of the soil) enables him to obtain an additional yield with his additional capital, which, as in the 
+case of the old capital, yields a surplus-profit in addition to the price of production, he is able to pocket 
+this surplus-profit so long as his lease does not expire. But why? Because the limitation placed by landed 
+property on the investment of his capital in land has been eliminated for the duration of the lease. But the 
+simple fact that additional soil of poorer quality must be independently cleared and independently leased 
+in order for him to secure this surplus-profit proves irrefutably that the investment of additional capital in 
+the old soil no longer suffices to produce the required increased supply. One assumption excludes the 
+other. It is true that now one might say: The rent on the worst soil A is itself differential rent — whether 
+the comparison is made with respect to the land cultivated by the owner himself (this occurs, however, as 
+a purely chance exception) or with respect to the additional investment of capital in the old leaseholds 
+which do not yield any rent. However, this would be 1) a differential rent which does not arise from the 
+difference in fertility of the various categories of soil, and which therefore would not presuppose that soil 
+A does not yield any rent and its produce sells at the price of production; and 2) the circumstance 
+whether additional investments of capital in the same leasehold yield rent or not is just as irrelevant to the 
+question as to whether the new soil of class A to be taken under cultivation pays rent or not, as it is 
+irrelevant to, say, the establishment of a new and independent manufacturing business whether another 
+manufacturer in the same line invests a portion of his capital in interest-bearing paper because he cannot 
+use all of it in his business, or whether he makes certain improvements which do not yield him the full 
+profit, but nevertheless do yield more than interest. This is of secondary importance to him. The 
+additional new establishments, on the other hand, must yield the average profit and are organised in the 
+hope of obtaining this average profit. It is true, to be sure, that the additional investments of capital in the 
+old leaseholds and the additional cultivation of new land of soil type A mutually restrict one another. The 
+limit, up to which additional capital may be invested in the same leasehold under less favourable 
+conditions of production, is determined by the competing new investments in soil A; on the other hand, 
+the rent which this category of soil can yield is limited by the competing additional investments of capital 
+in the old leaseholds. 
+
+But all this dubious subterfuge does not solve the problem, which, simply stated, is this: Assume the 
+market-price of grain (which in this inquiry stands for products of the soil in general) to be sufficient to 
+permit taking portions of soil A under cultivation and that the capital invested in these new fields could 
+return the price of production, i.e., replace capital plus average profit. Thus assume that conditions exist 
+for the normal expansion of capital on soil A. Is this sufficient? Can this capital then really be invested? 
+Or must the market-price rise to the point where even the worst soil A yields rent? In other words, does 
+the landowner' s monopoly hinder the investment of capital which would not be the case from the purely 
+capitalist standpoint in the absence of this monopoly? It follows from the way in which the question itself 
+is posed that if, e.g., additional capitals are invested in the old leaseholds, yielding the average profit at 
+the given market-price, but no rent, this circumstance in no way answers the question whether capital 
+may now really be invested in soil A, which also yields the average profits but no rent. But this is 
+precisely the question before us. The fact that additional investments of capital not yielding any rent do 
+
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+
+not satisfy the demand is proved by the necessity of taking new land of soil type A under cultivation. Just 
+two alternatives are possible if the additional cultivation of soil A takes place only in so far as it yields 
+rent, that is, yields more than the price of production. Either the market-price must be such that even the 
+last additional investments of capital in the old leaseholds yield surplus-profit, whether pocketed by the 
+farmer or by the landlord. This rise in price and this surplus-profit from the last additional investments of 
+capital would then result from the fact that soil A cannot be cultivated without yielding rent. For if the 
+price of production were sufficient for cultivation to take place, merely yielding average profit, the price 
+would not have risen so high, and competition from new plots would have been felt as soon as they just 
+yielded this price of production. Competing with the additional investments in old leaseholds not 
+yielding any rent would then be investments in soil A, which likewise do not yield any rent. — Or, the 
+last investments in the old leaseholds do not yield any rent, but nevertheless the market-price has risen 
+sufficiently to make it possible for soil A to be taken under cultivation and to yield rent. In this case, the 
+additional investment of capital not yielding any rent was only possible because soil A cannot be 
+cultivated until the market-price permits it to pay rent. Without this condition, its cultivation would have 
+already begun at a lower price level; and those later investments of capital in the old leaseholds, which 
+require the high market-price in order to yield the usual profit without rent, could not have taken place. 
+At the high market-price, it is true, they yield only the average profit. At a lower market-price, which 
+would have become the regulating price of production from the time soil A came under cultivation, they 
+would thus not have yielded this average profit, i.e., the investments would thus not have taken place at 
+all under such conditions. In this way, the rent from soil A would indeed constitute differential rent 
+compared with the investments in the old leaseholds not yielding any rent. But that such differential rent 
+is formed on the land areas of A is but a consequence of the fact that the latter are not at all available to 
+cultivation, unless they yield rent; i.e., that the necessity for this rent exists, which, in itself, is not 
+determined by any differences in soil types, and which constitutes the barrier to possible investment of 
+additional capitals in the old leaseholds. In either case, the rent from soil A would not be simply a 
+consequence of the rise in grain prices, but, conversely, the fact that the worst soil must yield rent in 
+order to make its cultivation at all possible, would be the cause for the rise in the grain price to the point 
+where this condition may be fulfilled. 
+
+Differential rent has the peculiarity that landed property here merely intercepts the surplus-profit which 
+would otherwise flow into the pocket of the farmer, and which the latter may actually pocket under 
+certain circumstances during the period of his lease. Landed property is here merely the cause for 
+transferring a portion of the commodity-price which arises without the property having anything to do 
+with it (indeed, in consequence of the fact that the price of production which regulates the market-price is 
+determined by competition) and which resolves itself into surplus-profit — the cause for transferring this 
+portion of the price from one person to another, from the capitalist to the landlord. But landed property is 
+not the cause which creates this portion of the price, or the rise in price upon which this portion of the 
+price is premised. On the other hand, if the worst soil A cannot be cultivated — although its cultivation 
+would yield the price of production — until it produces something in excess of the price of production, 
+rent, then landed property is the creative cause of this rise in price. Landed property itself has created 
+rent. This fact is not altered, if, as in the second case mentioned, the rent now paid on soil A constitutes 
+differential rent compared with the last additional investment of capital in old leaseholds, which pay only 
+the price of production. For the circumstance that soil A cannot be cultivated until the regulating 
+market-price has risen high enough to permit rent to be yielded from soil A — only this circumstance is 
+the basis here for the fact that the market-price rises to a point which enables the last investments in the 
+old leaseholds to yield, indeed, only their price of production, but a price of production which, at the 
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+
+same time, yields rent on soil A. The fact that the latter has to pay rent at all is, in this case, the cause for 
+the differential rent between soil A and the last investments in the old leaseholds. 
+
+When stating, in general, that soil A does not pay any rent — assuming the price of grain is regulated by 
+the price of production — we mean rent in the categorical sense of the word. If the farmer pays "lease 
+money" which constitutes a deduction from the normal wages of his labourers, or from his own normal 
+average profit, he does not pay rent, i.e., an independent component of the price of his commodities 
+distinct from wages and profit. We have already indicated that this continually takes place in practice. In 
+so far as the wages of the agricultural labourers in a given country are, in general, depressed below the 
+normal average level of wages, so that a deduction from wages, a part of the wages, as a general rule 
+enters into rent, this does not constitute an exceptional case for the farmer cultivating the worst soil. In 
+the same price of production which makes cultivation of the worst soil possible these low wages already 
+form a constituent element, and the sale of the product at the price of production does not therefore 
+enable the farmer cultivating this soil to pay any rent. The landlord can also lease his land to some 
+labourer, who may be satisfied to pay to the former in the form of rent, all or the largest part of that 
+which he realises in the selling price over and above the wages. In all these cases, however, no real rent 
+is paid in spite of the fact that lease money is paid. But wherever conditions correspond to those under 
+the capitalist mode of production, rent and lease money must coincide. Yet it is precisely this normal 
+condition which must be analysed here. 
+
+Since even the cases considered above — where, under the capitalist mode of production, investments of 
+capital in the land may actually take place without yielding rent — do not contribute to the solution of our 
+problem, so much less does reference to colonial conditions. The criterion establishing a colony as a 
+colony — we are referring here only to true agricultural colonies — is not merely the prevailing vast area 
+of fertile land in a natural state. It is rather the circumstance that this land has not been appropriated, has 
+not been subjected to private ownership. Herein lies the enormous difference, as regards the land, 
+between old countries and colonies: the legal or actual non-existence of landed property, as Wakefield 
+f351 correctly remarks, and as Mirabeau pere, the physiocrat, and other elder economists, had discovered 
+long before him. It is quite immaterial here whether the colonists simply appropriate the land, or whether 
+they actually pay to the state, in the form of a nominal land price, a fee for a valid legal title to the land. It 
+is also immaterial that the colonists already settled there may be the legal owners of the land. In fact, 
+landed property constitutes no limitation here to the investment of capital — and also of labour without 
+capital; the appropriation of some of the land by the colonists already established there does not prevent 
+the newcomers from employing their capital or their labour upon new land. Therefore, when it is 
+necessary to investigate the influence of landed property upon the prices of products of the land and upon 
+rent — in those cases where landed property restricts land as an investment sphere of capital — it is highly 
+absurd to speak of free bourgeois colonies where, in agriculture, neither the capitalist mode of production 
+exists, nor the form of landed property corresponding to it — which, in fact, does not exist at all. Ricardo, 
+e.g., does so in his chapter on ground-rent. In the preface he states that he intends to investigate the effect 
+of the appropriation of land upon the value of the products of the soil, and directly thereafter he takes the 
+colonies as an illustration, whereby he assumes that the land exists in a relatively elementary form and 
+that its exploitation is not limited by the monopoly of landed property. 
+
+The mere legal ownership of land does not create any ground-rent for the owner. But it does, indeed, give 
+him the power to withdraw his land from exploitation until economic conditions permit him to utilise it 
+in such a manner as to yield him a surplus, be it used for actual agricultural or other production purposes, 
+such as buildings, etc. He cannot increase or decrease the absolute magnitude of this sphere, but he can 
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+
+change the quantity of land placed on the market. Hence, as Fourier already observed, it is a 
+characteristic fact that in all civilised countries a comparatively appreciable portion of land always 
+remains uncultivated. 
+
+Thus, assuming the demand requires that new land be taken under cultivation, whose soil, let us say, is 
+less fertile than that hitherto cultivated — will the landlord lease it for nothing, just because the 
+market-price of the product of the land has risen sufficiently to return to the farmer the price of 
+production, and thereby the usual profit, on his investment in this land? By no means. The investment of 
+capital must yield him rent. He does not lease his land until he can be paid lease money for it. Therefore, 
+the market-price must rise to a point above the price of production, i.e., to P+r, so that rent can be paid to 
+the landlord. Since according to our assumption, landed property does not yield any-thing until it is 
+leased, is economically valueless until then, a small rise in the market-price above the price of production 
+suffices to bring the new land of poorest quality on the market. 
+
+The following question now arises: Does it follow from the fact that the worst soil yields ground-rent 
+which cannot be derived from any difference in fertility that the price of the product of the land is 
+necessarily a monopoly price in the usual sense, or a price into which the rent enters like a tax, with the 
+sole distinction that the landlord levies the tax instead of the state? It goes without saying that this tax has 
+its specific economic limits. It is limited by additional investments of capital in the old leaseholds, by 
+competition from products of the land coming from abroad — assuming their import is unrestricted — by 
+competition among the landlords themselves, and finally by the needs of the consumers and their ability 
+to pay. But this is not the question here. The point is whether the rent paid on the worst soil enters into 
+the price of the products of this soil — which price regulates the general market-price according to our 
+assumption — in the same way as a tax placed on a commodity enters into its price, i.e., as an element 
+that is independent of the value of the commodity. 
+
+This, by no means, necessarily follows, and the contention that it does has been made only because the 
+distinction between the value of commodities and their price of production has heretofore not been 
+understood. We have seen that the price of production of a commodity is not at all identical with its 
+value, although the prices of production of commodities, considered in their totality, are regulated only 
+by their total value, and although the movement of production prices of various kinds of commodities, all 
+other circumstances being equal, is determined exclusively by the movement of their values. It has been 
+shown that the price of production of a commodity may lie above or below its value, and coincides with 
+its value only by way of exception. Hence, the fact that products of the land are sold above their price of 
+production does not at all prove that they are sold above their value; just as the fact that products of 
+industry, on the average, are sold at their price of production does not prove that they are sold at their 
+value. It is possible for agricultural products to be sold above their price of production and below their 
+value, while, on the other hand, many industrial products yield the price of production only because they 
+are sold above their value. 
+
+The relation of the price of production of a commodity to its value is determined solely by the ratio of the 
+variable part of the capital with which the commodity is produced to its constant part, or by the organic 
+composition of the capital producing it. If the composition of the capital in a given sphere of production 
+is lower than that of the average social capital, i.e., if its variable portion, which is used for wages, is 
+larger in its relation to the constant portion, used for the material conditions of labour, than is the case in 
+the average social capital, then the value of its product must lie above the price of production. In other 
+words, because such capital employs more living labour, it produces more surplus-value, and therefore 
+
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+
+more profit, assuming equal exploitation of labour, than an equally large aliquot portion of the social 
+average capital. The value of its product, therefore, is above the price of production, since this price of 
+production is equal to capital replacement plus average profit, and the average profit is lower than the 
+profit produced in this commodity. The surplus-value produced by the average social capital is less than 
+the surplus-value produced by a capital of this lower composition. The opposite is the case when the 
+capital invested in a certain sphere of production is of a bigger composition than the social average 
+capital. The value of commodities produced by it lies below their price of production, which is generally 
+the case with products of the most developed industries. 
+
+If the capital in a certain sphere of production is of a lower corn-position than the average social capital, 
+then this is, in the first place, merely another way of saying that the productivity of the social labour in 
+this particular sphere of production is below the average; for the level of productivity attained is 
+manifested in the relative preponderance of constant over variable capital, or in the continual decrease — 
+for the given capital — of the portion used for wages. On the other hand, if the capital in a certain sphere 
+of production is of a higher composition, then this reflects a development of productiveness that is above 
+the average. 
+
+Leaving aside actual works of art, whose consideration by their very nature is excluded from our 
+discussion, it is self-evident, moreover, that different spheres of production require different proportions 
+of constant and variable capital in accordance with their specific technical features, and that living labour 
+must play a bigger role in some, and smaller in others. For instance, in the extractive industries, which 
+must be clearly distinguished from agriculture, raw material as an element of constant capital is wholly 
+absent, and even auxiliary material rarely plays an important role. In the mining industry, however, the 
+other part of constant capital, i.e., fixed capital, plays an important role. Nevertheless, here too, progress 
+may be measured by the relative increase of constant capital in relation to variable capital. 
+
+If the composition of capital in agriculture proper is lower than that of the average social capital, then, 
+prima facie, this expresses the fact that in countries with developed production agriculture has not 
+progressed to the same extent as the processing industries. Such a fact could be explained — aside from 
+all other circumstances, including in part decisive economic ones — by the earlier and more rapid 
+development of the mechanical sciences, and in particular their application compared with the later and 
+in part quite recent development of chemistry, geology and physiology, and again, in particular, their 
+application to agriculture. Incidentally, it is an indubitable and long-known fact f361 that the progress of 
+agriculture itself is constantly expressed by a relative growth of constant capital as compared with 
+variable capital. Whether the composition of agricultural capital is lower than that of the average social 
+capital in a specific country where capitalist production prevails, for instance England, is a question 
+which can only be decided statistically, and for our purposes it is superfluous to go into it in detail. In any 
+case, it is theoretically established that the value of agricultural products can be higher than their price of 
+production only on this assumption. In other words, a capital of a certain size in agriculture produces 
+more surplus-value, or what amounts to the same, sets in motion and commands more surplus-labour 
+(and with it employs more living labour generally) than a capital of the same size of average social 
+composition. 
+
+This assumption, then, suffices for that form of rent which we are analysing here, and which can obtain 
+only so long as this assumption holds good. Wherever this assumption no longer holds, the 
+corresponding form of rent likewise no longer holds. 
+
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+
+However, the mere existence of an excess in the value of agricultural products over their price of 
+production would not in itself suffice to explain the existence of a ground-rent which is independent of 
+differences in fertility of various soil types and in successive investments of capital on the same land — a 
+rent, in short, which is to be clearly distinguished in concept from differential rent and which we may 
+therefore call absolute rent. Quite a number of manufactured products are characterised by the fact that 
+their value is higher than their price of production, without thereby yielding any excess above the 
+average profit, or a surplus-profit, which could be converted into rent. Conversely, the existence and 
+concept of price of production and general rate of profit, which it implies, rest upon the fact that 
+individual commodities are not sold at their value. Prices of production arise from an equalisation of the 
+values of commodities. After replacing the respective capital- values used up in the various spheres of 
+production, this distributes the entire surplus-value, not in proportion to the amount produced in the 
+individual spheres of production and thus incorporated in their commodities, but in proportion to the 
+magnitude of advanced capitals. Only in this manner do average profit and price of production arise, 
+whose characteristic element the former is. It is the perpetual tendency of capitals to bring about through 
+competition this equalisation in the distribution of surplus-value produced by the total capital, and to 
+overcome all obstacles to this equalisation. Hence it is their tendency to tolerate only such surplus-profits 
+as arise, under all circumstances, not from the difference between the values and prices of production of 
+commodities but rather from the difference between the general price of production governing the market 
+and the individual prices of production differing from it; surplus-profits which obtain within a certain 
+sphere of production, therefore, and not between two different spheres, and thus do not affect the general 
+prices of production of the various spheres, i.e., the general rate of profit, but rather presuppose the 
+transformation of values into prices of production and a general rate of profit. This supposition rests, 
+however, as previously discussed, upon the constantly changing proportional distribution of the total 
+social capital among the various spheres of production, upon the perpetual inflow and outflow of 
+capitals, upon their transferability from one sphere to another, in short, upon their free movement 
+between the various spheres of production, which represent so many available fields of investment for 
+the independent components of the total social capital. The premise in this case is that no barrier, or just 
+an accidental and temporary barrier, interferes with the competition of capitals — for instance, in a sphere 
+of production, in which the commodity-values are higher than the prices of production, or where the 
+surplus-value produced exceeds the average profit — to reduce the value to the price of production and 
+thereby proportionally distribute the excess surplus-value of this sphere of production among all spheres 
+exploited by capital. But if the reverse occurs, if capital meets an alien force which it can but partially, or 
+not at all, overcome, and which limits its investment in certain spheres, admit-ting it only under 
+conditions which wholly or partly exclude that general equalisation of surplus-value to an average profit, 
+then it is evident that the excess of the value of commodities in such spheres of production over their 
+price of production would give rise to a surplus-profit, which could be converted into rent and such made 
+independent with respect to profit. Such an alien force and barrier are presented by landed property, 
+when confronting capital in its endeavour to invest in land; such a force is the landlord vis-a-vis the 
+capitalist. 
+
+Landed property is here the barrier which does not permit any new investment of capital in hitherto 
+uncultivated or unrented land without levying a tax, or in other words, without demanding a rent, 
+although the land to be newly brought under cultivation may belong to a category which does not yield 
+any differential rent and which, were it not for landed property, could have been cultivated even at a 
+small increase in market-price, so that the regulating market-price would have netted to the cultivator of 
+this worst soil solely his price of production. But owing to the barrier raised by landed property, the 
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+market-price must rise to a level at which the land can yield a surplus over the price of production, i.e., 
+yield a rent. However, since the value of the commodities produced by agricultural capital is higher than 
+their price of production, according to our assumption, this rent (save for one case which we shall discuss 
+forthwith) forms the excess of value over the price of production, or a part of it. Whether the rent equals 
+the entire difference between the value and price of production, or only a greater or lesser part of it, will 
+depend wholly on the relation between supply and demand and on the area of land newly taken under 
+cultivation. So long as the rent does not equal the excess of the value of agricultural products over their 
+price of production, a portion of this excess will always enter into the general equalisation and 
+proportional distribution of all surplus- value among the various individual capitals. As soon as the rent 
+does equal the excess of the value over the price of production, this entire portion of surplus-value over 
+and above the average profit will be withdrawn from this equalisation. But whether this absolute rent 
+equals the whole excess of value over the price of production, or just a part of it, the agricultural products 
+will always be sold at a monopoly price, not because their price exceeds their value, but because it equals 
+their value, or because their price is lower than their value but higher than their price of production. Their 
+monopoly would consist in the fact that, unlike other products of industry whose value is higher than the 
+general price of production, they are not levelled out to the price of production. Since one portion of the 
+value, as well as of price of production, is an actually given constant, namely the cost-price, representing 
+the capital=k used up in production, their difference consists in the other, the variable portion, the 
+surplus-value, which equals p, the profit, in the price of production, i.e., equals the total surplus-value 
+calculated on the social capital and on every individual capital as an aliquot part of the social capital; but 
+which in the value of commodities equals the actual surplus-value created by this particular capital, and 
+forms an integral part of the commodity- values produced by this capital. If the value of commodities is 
+higher than their price of production, then the price of production = k+p, and the value=k+p+d, so that 
+p+d=the surplus-value contained therein. The difference between the value and the price of production, 
+therefore,=d, the excess of surplus-value created by this capital over the surplus-value allocated to it 
+through the general rate of profit. It follows from this that the price of agricultural products may lie 
+higher than their price of production, without reaching their value. It follows, furthermore, that a 
+permanent increase in the price of agricultural products may take place up to a certain point, before their 
+price reaches their value. It follows likewise that the excess in the value of agricultural products over 
+their price of production can become a determining element of their general market-price solely as a 
+consequence of the monopoly in landed property. It follows, finally, that in this case the increase in the 
+price of the product is not the cause of rent, but rather that rent is the cause of the increase in the price of 
+the product. If the price of the product from a unit area of the worst soil = P+r, then all differential rents 
+will rise by corresponding multiples of r, since the assumption is that P+r becomes the regulating 
+market-price. 
+
+If the average composition of the non-agricultural social capital were=85c+15v, and the rate of 
+surplus-value=100%, then the price of production would=115. If the composition of the agricultural 
+capital were=75c+25v and the rate of surplus-value were the same, then the value of the agricultural 
+product and the regulating market-price would=125. If the agricultural and the non-agricultural product 
+should be equalised to the same average price (we assume for the sake of brevity the total capital in both 
+lines of production to be equal), then the total surplus-value would=40, or 20%, on the 200 of capital. 
+The product of the one as well as the other would be sold at 120. In an equalisation into prices of 
+production, the average market-prices of the non-agricultural product would thus lie above, and those of 
+the agricultural product below, their value. If the agricultural products were sold at their full value, they 
+would be higher by 5, and the industrial products lower by 5, than they are in the equalisation. If market 
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+
+conditions do not permit the sale of the agricultural products at their full value, to the full surplus above 
+the price of production, then the effect lies between the two extremes; the industrial products are sold 
+somewhat above their value, and the agricultural products somewhat above their price of production. 
+
+Although landed property may drive the price of agricultural produce above its price of production, it 
+does not depend on this, but rather on the general state of the market, to what degree market-price 
+exceeds the price of production and approaches the value, and to what extent therefore the surplus-value 
+created in agriculture over and above the given average profit shall either be transformed into rent or 
+enter into the general equalisation of the surplus-value to average profit. At any rate this absolute rent 
+arising out of the excess of value over the price of production is but a portion of the agricultural 
+surplus-value, a conversion of this surplus- value into rent, its being filched by the landlord; just as the 
+differential rent arises out of the conversion of surplus-profit into rent, its being filched by the landlord 
+under a generally regulating price of production. These two forms of rent are the only normal ones. Apart 
+from them the rent can be based only upon an actual monopoly price, which is determined neither by 
+price of production nor by value of commodities, but by the buyers' needs and ability to pay. Its analysis 
+belongs under the theory of competition, where the actual movement of market-prices is considered. 
+
+If all the land suitable for agriculture in a certain country were leased — assuming the capitalist mode of 
+production and normal conditions to be general — there would not be any land not paying rent; but there 
+might be some capitals, certain parts of capitals invested in land, that might not yield any rent. For as 
+soon as the land has been rented, landed property ceases to act as an absolute barrier against the 
+investment of necessary capital. Still, it continues to act as a relative barrier even after that, in so far as 
+the reversion to the landlord of the capital incorporated in the land circumscribes the activity of the 
+tenant within very definite limits. Only in this case all rent would be transformed into differential rent, 
+although this would not be a differential rent determined by any difference in soil fertility, but rather by 
+the difference between the surplus-profits arising from the last investments of capital in a particular soil 
+type and the rent paid for the lease of the worst quality land. Landed property acts as an absolute barrier 
+only to the extent that the landlord exacts a tribute for making land at all accessible to the investment of 
+capital. When such access has been gained, he can no longer set any absolute limits to the size of any 
+investment of capital in a given plot of land. In general, housing construction meets a barrier in the 
+ownership by a third party of the land upon which the houses are to be built. But, once this land has been 
+leased for the purpose of housing construction, it depends upon the tenant whether he will build a large 
+or a small house. 
+
+If the average composition of agricultural capital were equal to, or higher than, that of the average social 
+capital, then absolute rent — again in the sense just described — would disappear; i.e., rent which differs 
+equally from differential rent as well as that based upon an actual monopoly price. The value of 
+agricultural produce, then, would not lie above its price of production, and the agricultural capital would 
+not set any more labour in motion, and therefore would also not realise any more surplus-labour than the 
+non-agricultural capital. The same would take place, were the composition of agricultural capital to 
+become equal to that of the average social capital with the progress of civilisation. 
+
+It seems to be a contradiction, at first glance, to assume that, on the one hand, the composition of 
+agricultural capital rises, in other words, that its constant component increases with respect to its 
+variable, and, on the other hand, that the price of the agricultural product should rise high enough to 
+permit rent to be yielded by new and worse soil than that previously cultivated, a rent which in this case 
+could originate only from an excess of market-price over the value and price of production, in short, a 
+
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+rent derived solely from a monopoly price of the product. 
+
+It is necessary to make a distinction here. 
+
+In the first place, it was noted in considering the manner in which rate of profit is formed, that capitals, 
+which have the same composition technologically speaking, i.e., which set equivalent amounts of labour 
+in motion relative to machinery and raw materials, may nonetheless have different compositions owing 
+to different values of the constant portions of these capitals. The raw materials or machinery may be 
+dearer in one case than in another. For the same quantity of labour to be set in motion (and this would be 
+required, according to our assumption, to work up the same mass of raw materials), a larger capital 
+would have to be advanced in the one case than in the other, since the same amount of labour cannot be 
+set in motion with, say, a capital of 400 if the cost of raw material, which must be covered out of the 100, 
+is 40 in one case and 20 in another. But it would become immediately evident that these two capitals are 
+of the same technical composition, as soon as the price of the dearer raw material fell to the level of the 
+cheaper one. The value ratio between constant and variable capital would have become the same in that 
+case, although no change had taken place in the technical proportions between the living labour and the 
+mass and nature of the conditions of labour employed by this capital. On the other band, a capital of 
+lower organic composition could assume the appearance of being in the same class with one of a higher 
+organic composition, merely from a rise in the value of its constant portions, solely from the viewpoint of 
+its value-composition. Suppose one capital=60c+40v, because it employs much machinery and raw 
+material compared to living labour-power, and another capital=40c+60v , because it employs much living 
+labour (60%), little machinery (e.g., 10%) and compared to labour-power less and cheaper raw material 
+(e.g., 30%). Then a simple rise in the value of raw and auxiliary materials from 30 to 80 could equalise 
+the composition, so that now the second capital would consist of 80 raw material and 60 labour-power 
+for 10 in machines, or 90c+60v , which, in percentages, would also=60c=40v , with no change having taken 
+place in the technical composition. In other words, capitals of equal organic composition may be of 
+different value-composition, and capitals with identical percentages of value-composition may show 
+varying degrees of organic composition and thus express different stages in the development of the social 
+productivity of labour. The mere circumstance, then, that agricultural capital might be on the general 
+level of value-composition, would not prove that the social productivity of labour is equally 
+high-developed in it. It would merely show that its own product, which again forms a part of its 
+conditions of production, is dearer, or that auxiliary materials, such as fertiliser, which used to be close 
+by, must now be brought from afar, etc. 
+
+But aside from this, the peculiar nature of agriculture must be taken into account. 
+
+Suppose labour-saving machinery, chemical aids, etc., are more extensively used in agriculture, and that 
+therefore constant capital increases technically, not merely in value, but also in mass, as compared with 
+the mass of employed labour-power, then in agriculture (as in mining) it is not only a matter of the social, 
+but also of the natural, productivity of labour which depends on the natural conditions of labour It is 
+possible for the increase of social productivity in agriculture to barely compensate, or not even 
+compensate, for the decrease in natural power — this compensation will nevertheless be effective only for 
+a short time — so that despite technical development there, no cheapening of the product occurs, but only 
+a still greater increase in price is averted. It is also possible that the absolute mass of products decreases 
+with rising grain prices, while the relative surplus-product increases; namely, in the case of a relative 
+increase in constant capital which consists chiefly of machinery or animals requiring only replacement of 
+wear and tear, and with a corresponding decrease in variable capital which is expended in wages 
+
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+requiring constant replacement in full out of the product. 
+
+Moreover, it is also possible that with progress in agriculture only a moderate rise in market-price above 
+the average is necessary, in order to cultivate and draw a rent from poorer soil, which would have 
+required a greater rise in market-price if technical aids were less developed. 
+
+The fact that in larger-scale cattle-raising, for example, the mass of employed labour-power is very small 
+compared with constant capital as represented in cattle itself, could be taken to refute the assertion that 
+more labour-power, on a percentage basis, is set in motion by agricultural capital than by the average 
+social capital outside of agriculture. But it should be noted here that we have taken as determining for 
+rent analysis that portion of agricultural capital which produces the principal plant foodstuffs providing 
+the chief means of subsistence among civilised nations. Adam Smith — and this is one of his merits — has 
+already demonstrated that a quite different determination of prices is to be observed in cattle-raising, and, 
+for that matter, generally for capitals invested in land which are not engaged in raising the principal 
+means of subsistence, e.g., grain. Namely in that case the price is determined in such a way that the price 
+of the product of the land — which is used for cattle-raising, say as an artificial pasture, but which could 
+just as easily have been transformed into cornfields of a certain quality — must rise high enough to 
+produce the same rent as on arable land of the same quality. In other words, the rent of cornfields 
+becomes a determining element in the price of cattle, and for this reason Ramsay has justly remarked that 
+the price of cattle is in this manner artificially raised by the rent, by the economic expression of landed 
+property, in short, through landed property. [G. Ramsay, An Essay on the Distribution of Wealth, 
+Edinburgh, 1836, pp. 278-79. -- Ed.] 
+
+"By the extension of cultivation the unimproved wilds become insufficient to supply the demand for 
+butcher' s meat. A great part of the cultivated lands must be employed in rearing and fattening cattle, of 
+which the price, therefore, must be sufficient to pay, not only the labour necessary for tending them, but 
+the rent which the landlord and the profit which the farmer could have drawn from such land, employed 
+in tillage. The cattle bred upon the most uncultivated moors, when brought to the same market, are, in 
+proportion to their weight or goodness, sold at the same price as those which are reared upon the most 
+improved land. The proprietors of those moors profit by it, and raise the rent of their land in proportion to 
+the price of their cattle. " (Adam Smith, Book I, Ch. XI, Part 1.) In this case, likewise, as distinct from 
+grain-rent, the differential rent is in favour of the worst soil. 
+
+Absolute rent explains some phenomena, which, at first sight, seem to make merely a monopoly price 
+responsible for the rent. To go on with Adam Smith's example, take the owner of some Norwegian 
+forest, for instance, which exists independent of human activity, i.e., it is not a product of silviculture. If 
+the proprietor of this forest receives a rent from a capitalist who has the timber felled, perhaps in 
+consequence of a demand from England, or if this owner has the timber felled himself acting in the 
+capacity of capitalist, then a greater or smaller amount of rent will accrue to him in timber, apart from the 
+profit on invested capital. This appears to be a pure monopoly charge derived from a pure product of 
+Nature. But, as a matter of fact, the capital here consists al-most exclusively of a variable component 
+expended in labour, and thus sets more surplus-labour in motion than another capital of the same size. 
+The value of the timber, then, contains a greater surplus of unpaid labour, or of surplus-value, than that of 
+a product of a capital of a higher organic composition. For this reason the average profit can be derived 
+from this timber, and a considerable surplus in the form of rent can fall to the share of the owner of the 
+forest. Conversely, it may be assumed that, owing to the ease with which timber-felling may be extended, 
+in other words, its production rapidly increased, the demand must rise very considerably for the price of 
+
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+timber to equal its value, and thereby for the entire surplus of unpaid labour (over and above that portion 
+which falls to the capitalist as average profit) to accrue to the owner in the form of rent. 
+
+We have assumed that the land newly brought under cultivation is of still inferior quality than the worst 
+previously cultivated. If it is better, it yields a differential rent. But here we are analysing precisely the 
+case wherein rent does not appear as a differential rent. There are only two cases possible. The newly 
+cultivated soil is either inferior to, or just as good as the previously cultivated soil. If inferior, then the 
+matter has already been analysed. It remains only to analyse the case in which it is just as good. 
+
+As already developed in our analysis of differential rent, the progress of cultivation may just as well 
+bring equally good, or even better soils under the plough as worse soil. 
+
+First. Because in differential rent (or any rent in general, since even in the case of non-differential rent 
+the question always arises whether, on the one hand, the soil fertility in general, and, on the other hand, 
+its location, admit of its cultivation at the regulating market-price so as to yield a profit and rent) two 
+conditions work in opposing directions, now cancelling one another, now alternately exerting the 
+determining influence. The rise in market-price — provided the cost-price of cultivation has not fallen, 
+i.e., no technical progress has given a new impetus to further cultivation — may bring under cultivation 
+more fertile soil formerly excluded from competition by virtue of its location. Or it may so enhance the 
+advantage of the location of the inferior soil that its lesser fertility is counterbalanced by it. Or, without 
+any rise in market-price the location may bring better soils into competition through improvement in 
+means of communication, as can be observed on a large scale in the prairie States of North America. In 
+countries of older civilisation the same also takes place constantly if not to the same extent as in the 
+colonies, where, as Wakefield correctly observes, location is decisive. [[E. Wakefield] England and 
+America. A Comparison of the Social and Political State of both Nations, Vol. I, London, 1833, pp. 
+214-15. — Ed.~\ To sum up, then, the contradictory influences of location and fertility, and the 
+variableness of the location factor, which is continually counterbalanced and perpetually passes through 
+progressive changes tending towards equalisation, alternately carry equally good, better or worse land 
+areas into new competition with the older ones under cultivation. 
+
+Secondly. With the development of natural science and agronomy the soil fertility is also changed by 
+changing the means through which the soil constituents may be rendered immediately serviceable. In this 
+way, light soil types in France and in the eastern counties of England, which were regarded as inferior at 
+one time, have recently risen to first place. (See Passy. [H. Passy, Rente du sol. In: Dictionnaire de 
+l'economie politique, Tome II. Paris. 1854, p. 515. — Ed.]) On the other hand, soil considered inferior not 
+for bad chemical composition but for certain mechanical and physical obstacles that hindered its 
+cultivation, is converted into good land as soon as means to overcome these obstacles have been 
+discovered. 
+
+Thirdly. In all ancient civilisations, old historical and traditional relations, for instance, in the form of 
+state-owned lands, communal lands, etc., have purely arbitrarily withheld from cultivation large tracts of 
+land, which only return to it little by little. The succession in which they are brought under cultivation 
+depends neither upon their good quality nor siting, but upon wholly external circumstances. In tracing the 
+history of English communal lands turned successively into private property through the Enclosure Bills 
+and brought under the plough, nothing would be more ridiculous than the fantastic idea that a modern 
+agricultural chemist, such as Liebig, had indicated the selection of land in this succession, designating 
+certain fields for cultivation owing to chemical properties and excluding others. What was more decisive 
+
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+in this case was the opportunity which makes the thief; the more or less plausible legalistic subterfuges of 
+the big landlords to justify their appropriation. 
+
+Fourthly. Apart from the fact that the stage of development reached at any time by the population and 
+capital increase sets certain limits, even though elastic, to the extension of cultivation, and apart from 
+chance effects which temporarily influence the market-price — such as a series of good or bad seasons - 
+the extension of agriculture over a larger area depends on the over-all state of the capital market and 
+business conditions in a country. In periods of stringency it will not suffice for uncultivated soil to yield 
+the tenant an average profit — no matter whether he pays any rent or not — in order that additional capital 
+be invested in agriculture. In other periods when there is a plethora of capital, it will pour into agriculture 
+even without a rise in market-price if only other normal conditions are present. Better soil than hitherto 
+cultivated would in fact be excluded from competition solely on the basis of unfavourable location, or if 
+hitherto insurmountable obstacles to its employment existed, or through chance. For this reason we 
+should only concern ourselves with soils which are just as good as those last cultivated. However, there 
+still exists the difference in cost of clearing for cultivation between the new soil and the one last 
+cultivated. And it depends upon the level of market-prices and credit conditions whether this will be 
+undertaken or not. As soon as this soil then actually enters into competition, the market-price will fall 
+once more to its former level, assuming other conditions to be equal, and the new soil will then yield the 
+same rent as the corresponding old soil. The assumption that it does not yield any rent is proved by its 
+advocates by assuming precisely what they are called upon to prove, namely that the last soil did not 
+yield any rent. One might prove in the same manner that houses which were the last built do not yield 
+any rent for the building outside of house-rent proper, even though they are leased. In fact, however, they 
+do yield rent even before yielding any house-rent, when they frequently remain vacant for a long period. 
+Just as successive investments of capital in a certain piece of land may bring a proportional surplus and 
+thereby the same rent as the first investment, so fields of the same quality as those last cultivated may 
+bring the same proceeds for the same cost. Otherwise it would be altogether inexplicable how fields of 
+the same quality are ever brought successively under cultivation; it seems that either it would be 
+necessary to take all together, or rather not a single one of them, in order not to bring all the remaining 
+ones into competition. The landlord is always ready to draw a rent, i.e., to receive something for nothing. 
+But capital requires certain conditions to fulfil his wish. Competition between pieces of land does not, 
+therefore, depend upon the landlord desiring them to compete, but upon the capital existing which seeks 
+to compete with other capitals in the new fields. 
+
+To the extent that the agricultural rent proper is purely a monopoly price, the latter can only be small, just 
+as the absolute rent can only be small here under normal conditions whatever the excess of the product's 
+value over its price of production. The essence of absolute rent, therefore, consists in this: Given the 
+same rate of surplus-value, or degree of labour exploitation, equally large capitals in various spheres of 
+production produce different amounts of surplus-value, in accordance with their varying average 
+composition. In industry these various masses of surplus-value are equalised into an average profit and 
+distributed uniformly among the individual capitals as aliquot parts of the social capital. Landed property 
+hinders such an equalisation among capitals, invested in land, whenever production requires land for 
+either agriculture or extraction of raw materials, and takes hold of a portion of the surplus-value, which 
+would otherwise take part in equalising to the general rate of profit. The rent, then, forms a portion of the 
+value, or, more specifically, surplus-value, of commodities, and instead of falling into the lap of the 
+capitalists, who have extracted it from their labourers, it falls to the share of the landlords, who extract it 
+from the capitalists It is hereby assumed that the agricultural capital sets more labour in motion than an 
+
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+equally large portion of non-agricultural capital. How far the discrepancy goes, or whether it exists at all, 
+depends upon the relative development of agriculture as compared with industry. It is in the nature of the 
+case that this difference must decrease with the progress of agriculture, unless the proportionate decrease 
+of variable as compared with constant capital is still greater in the case of industrial than in the case of 
+agricultural capital. 
+
+This absolute rent plays an even more important role in the extractive industry proper, where one element 
+of constant capital, raw material, is wholly lacking and where, excluding those lines in which capital 
+consisting of machinery and other fixed capital is very considerable, by far the lowest composition of 
+capital prevails. Precisely here, where the rent appears entirely attributable to a monopoly price, 
+unusually favourable market conditions are necessary for commodities to be sold at their value, or for 
+rent to equal the entire excess of a commodity's surplus-value over its price of production. This applies, 
+for instance, to rent from fisheries, stone quarries, natural forests, etc. \31] 
+
+Footnotes 
+
+f351 Wakefield, England and America, London, 1833. Compare also Das Kapital, Buch I, Kap. XXV 
+[English edition: Ch. XXXIII. - Ed.]. 
+
+f361 See Dombasle [Annates agricoles de Roville, ou Melanges d' agriculture, d'economie rurale et de 
+legislation agricole, Paris, 1824-37. — Ed.] and R. Jones [An Essay on the Distribution of Wealth, and on 
+the Sources of Taxation, Part I, Rent, London, 1831, p. 227. — Ed.]. XLV-1018 
+
+f371 Ricardo deals with this very superficially. See the passage directed against Adam Smith concerning 
+forest rent in Norway, at the very beginning of Chapter 1 1, in Principles. 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 46 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 46 
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+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Part VI 
+
+TRANSFORMATION OF SURPLUS-PROFIT 
+
+INTO GROUND RENT 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 46 
+
+
+
+Building Site Rent. Rent in Mining. Price of Land 
+
+
+
+Wherever rent exists at all, differential rent appears at all times, and is governed by the same laws, as 
+agricultural differential rent. Wherever natural forces can be monopolised and guarantee a surplus-profit 
+to the industrial capitalist using them, be it waterfalls, rich mines, waters teeming with fish, or a 
+favourably located building site, there the person who by virtue of title to a portion of the globe has 
+become the proprietor of these natural objects will wrest this surplus-profit from functioning capital in 
+the form of rent. Adam Smith has set forth, as concerns land for building purposes, that the basis of its 
+rent, like that of all non-agricultural land, is regulated by agricultural rent proper (Book I, Ch. XI, 2 and 
+3). This rent is distinguished, in the first place, by the preponderant influence exerted here by location 
+upon differential rent (very significant, e.g., in vineyards and building sites in large cities); secondly, by 
+the palpable and complete passiveness of the owner, whose sole activity consists (especially in mines) in 
+exploiting the progress of social development, toward which he contributes nothing and for which he 
+risks nothing, unlike the industrial capitalist; and finally by the prevalence of monopoly prices in many 
+cases, particularly through the most shameless exploitation of poverty (for poverty is more lucrative for 
+house-rent than the mines of Potosi ever were for Spain £382), an d the monstrous power wielded by 
+landed property, when united hand in hand with industrial capital, enables it to be used against labourers 
+engaged in their wage struggle as a means of practically expelling them from the earth as a 
+dwelling-place. [39] One part of society thus exacts tribute from another for the permission to inhabit the 
+earth, as landed property in general assigns the landlord the privilege of exploiting the terrestrial body, 
+the bowels of the earth, the air, and thereby the maintenance and development of life. Not only the 
+population increase and with it the growing demand for shelter, but also the development of fixed capital, 
+which is either incorporated in land, or takes root in it and is based upon it, such as all industrial 
+buildings, railways, warehouses, factory buildings, docks, etc., necessarily increase the building rent. A 
+confusion of house-rent, in so far as it constitutes interest and amortisation on capital invested in a house, 
+and rent for the mere land, is not possible in this case, even with all the goodwill of a person like Carey, 
+particularly when landlord and building speculator are different persons, as is true in England. Two 
+
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+elements should be considered here: on the one hand, the exploitation of the earth for the purpose of 
+reproduction or extraction; on the other hand, the space required as an element of all production and all 
+human activity. And property in land demands its tribute in both senses. The demand for building sites 
+raises the value of land as space and foundation, while thereby the demand for elements of the terrestrial 
+body serving as building material grows simultaneously. [401 
+
+That it is the ground-rent, and not the house, which forms the actual object of building speculation in 
+rapidly growing cities, especially where construction is carried on as an industry, e.g., in London, has 
+already been illustrated in Book II, Chapter XII, in the testimony of a big building speculator in London, 
+Edward Capps, given before the Select Committee on Bank Acts of 1857. He stated there, No. 5435: "I 
+think a man who wishes to rise in the world can hardly expect to rise by following out a fair trade... it is 
+necessary for him to add speculative building to it, and that must be done not on a small scale;... for the 
+builder makes very little profit out of the buildings themselves; he makes the principal part of the profit 
+out of the improved ground-rents. Perhaps he takes a piece of ground, and agrees to give £300 a year for 
+it; by laying it out with care, and putting certain descriptions of buildings upon it, he may succeed in 
+making £400 or £450 a year out of it, and his profit would be the increased ground-rent of £100 or £150 a 
+year, rather than the profit of the buildings which... in many instances, he scarcely looks at all." And 
+parenthetically it should not be forgotten that after the lapse of the lease, generally at the end of 99 years, 
+the land with all its buildings and its ground-rent — usually increased in the interim twice or three times, 
+reverts from the building speculator or his legal successor to the original last landlord. 
+
+Mining rent proper is determined in the same way as agricultural rent. "There are some mines, of which 
+the produce is barely sufficient to pay the labour and replace, together with its ordinary profits, the stock 
+employed in working them. They afford some profit to the undertaker of the work, but no rent to the 
+landlord. They can be wrought advantageously by nobody but the landlord, who, being himself the 
+undertaker of the work, gets the ordinary profit of the capital which he employs in it. Many coal mines in 
+Scotland are wrought in this manner, and can be wrought in no other. The landlord will allow nobody 
+else to work them without paying some rent, and nobody can afford to pay any." (Adam Smith, Book I, 
+Ch. XI, 2.) 
+
+It must be distinguished, whether the rent springs from a monopoly price, because a monopoly price of 
+the product or the land exists independently of it, or whether the products are sold at a monopoly price, 
+because a rent exists. When we refer to a monopoly price, we mean in general a price determined only by 
+the purchasers' eagerness to buy and ability to pay, independent of the price determined by the general 
+price of production, as well as by the value of the products. A vineyard producing wine of very 
+extraordinary quality which can be produced only in relatively small quantities yields a monopoly price. 
+The wine-grower would realise a considerable surplus-profit from this monopoly price, whose excess 
+over the value of the product would be wholly determined by the means and fondness of the 
+discriminating wine-drinker. This surplus-profit, which accrues from a monopoly price, is converted into 
+rent and in this form falls into the lap of the landlord, thanks to his title to this piece of the globe 
+endowed with singular properties. Here, then, the monopoly price creates the rent. On the other hand, the 
+rent would create a monopoly price if grain were sold not merely above its price of production, but also 
+above its value, owing to the limits set by landed property to the investment of capital in uncultivated 
+land without payment of rent. That it is only the title of a number of persons to the possession of the 
+globe enabling them to appropriate to themselves as tribute a portion of the surplus-labour of society and 
+furthermore to a constantly increasing extent with the development of production, is concealed by the 
+fact that the capitalised rent, i.e., precisely this capitalised tribute, appears as the price of land, which 
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+may therefore be sold like any other article of commerce. The buyer, therefore, does not feel that his title 
+to the rent is obtained gratis, and without the labour, risk, and spirit of enterprise of the capitalist, but 
+rather that he has paid for it with an equivalent. To the buyer, as previously indicated, the rent appears 
+merely as interest on the capital with which he has purchased the land and consequently his title to the 
+rent. In the same way, the slave-holder considers a Negro, whom he has purchased, as his property, not 
+because the institution of slavery as such entitles him to that Negro, but because he has acquired him like 
+any other commodity, through sale and purchase. But the title itself is simply transferred, and not created 
+by the sale. The title must exist before it can be sold, and a series of sales can no more create this title 
+through continued repetition than a single sale can. What created it in the first place were the production 
+relations. As soon as these have reached a point where they must shed their skin, the material source of 
+the title, justified economically and historically and arising from the process which creates social life, 
+falls by the wayside, along with all transactions based upon it. From the standpoint of a higher economic 
+form of society, private ownership of the globe by single individuals will appear quite as absurd as 
+private ownership of one man by another. Even a whole society, a nation, or even all simultaneously 
+existing societies taken together, are not the owners of the globe. They are only its possessors, its 
+usufructuaries, and, like boni patres familias, they must hand it down to succeeding generations in an 
+improved condition. 
+
+
+
+In the following analysis of the price of land we leave out of consideration all fluctuations of 
+competition, all land speculation, and also small landed property, in which land forms the principal 
+instrument of producers and must, therefore, be bought by them at any price. 
+
+I. The price of land may rise without the rent rising, namely: 
+
+1) by a mere fall in interest rate, which causes the rent to be sold more dearly, and thereby the capitalised 
+rent, or price of land, rises; 
+
+2) because the interest on capital incorporated in the land rises. 
+
+II. The price of land may rise, because the rent increases. 
+
+The rent may increase, because the price of the product of the land rises, in which case the rate of 
+differential rent always rises, whether the rent on the worst cultivated soil be large, small or non-existent. 
+By rate we mean the ratio of that portion of surplus-value converted into rent to the invested capital 
+which produces the agricultural product. This differs from the ratio of surplus-product to total product, 
+for the total product does not comprise the entire invested capital, namely, the fixed capital, which 
+continues to exist alongside the product. On the other hand, it covers the fact that on soils yielding 
+differential rent an increasing portion of the product is transformed into an excess of surplus-product. 
+The increase in price of agricultural product of the worst soil first creates rent and thereby the price of 
+land. 
+
+The rent, however, may also increase without a rise in price of the agricultural product. This price may 
+remain constant, or even decrease. 
+
+If the price remains constant, the rent can grow only (apart from monopoly prices) because, on the one 
+hand, given the same amount of capital invested in the old lands, new lands of better quality are 
+cultivated, which merely suffice, however, to cover the increased demand, so that the regulating 
+market-price remains unchanged. In this case, the price of the old lands does not rise, but the price of the 
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+
+newly cultivated lands rises above that of the old ones. 
+
+Or, on the other hand, the rent rises because the mass of capital exploiting the land increases, assuming 
+that the relative productivity and market-price remain the same. Although the rent thus remains the same 
+compared with the invested capital, still its mass, for instance, may be doubled, because the capital itself 
+has doubled. Since no fall in price has occurred, the second investment of capital yields a surplus-profit 
+just as well as the first, and it likewise is transformed into rent after the expiration of the lease. The mass 
+of rent rises here, because the mass of capital producing a rent increases. The contention that various 
+successive investments of capital in the same piece of land can produce rent only in so far as their yield is 
+unequal, so that a differential rent thus arises, is reduced to the contention that when two capitals of 
+£1,000 each are invested in two fields of equal productivity, only one of them can produce a rent, 
+although both fields belong to a better soil type, which produces differential rent. (The mass of rental, the 
+total rent of a country, grows therefore with the mass of capital invested, without the price of the 
+individual pieces of land, or the rate of rent, or even the mass of rent on individual pieces of land, 
+necessarily increasing; the amount of rental grows in this case with the extension of cultivation over a 
+wider area. This may even be combined with a decrease in rent on individual holdings.) Otherwise, this 
+contention would lead to the other, namely, that the investment of capital in two different pieces of land 
+existing side by side follows different laws than the successive investment of capital in the same plot, 
+whereas differential rent is derived precisely from the identity of the law in both cases, from the 
+increased productiveness of capital invested either in the same field or in different fields. The only 
+modification which exists here and is overlooked is that successive investments of capital, when applied 
+to different pieces of land, meet the barrier of landed property, which is not the case with successive 
+investments of capital in the same piece of land. This accounts for the opposing tendencies by which 
+these two different forms of investment curb each other in practice. No difference in capital ever appears 
+here. If the composition of the capital remains the same, and similarly the rate of surplus-value, the rate 
+of profit remains unaltered, so that the mass of profit is doubled when the capital is doubled. In like 
+manner the rate of rent remains the same under the assumed conditions. If a capital of £1,000 produces a 
+rent of x, then a capital of £2,000, under the assumed conditions, produces a rent of 2x. But calculated 
+with reference to the area of land, which has remained unaltered, since, according to our assumption, the 
+doubled capital operates in the same field, the level of rent has also risen as a consequence of its increase 
+in mass. The same acre which yielded a rent of £2, now yields £4. f411 
+
+The relation of a portion of the surplus-value, of money-rent — for money is the independent expression 
+of value — to the land is in itself absurd and irrational; for the magnitudes which are here measured by 
+one another are incommensurable — a particular use- value, a piece of land of so many and so many 
+square feet, on the one hand, and value, especially surplus-value, on the other. This expresses in fact 
+nothing more than that, under the given conditions, the ownership of so many square feet of land enables 
+the landowner to wrest a certain quantity of unpaid labour, which the capital wallowing in these square 
+feet like a hog in potatoes has realised. [Written in the manuscript here in brackets, but crossed out, is the 
+name "Liebig.] "But prima facie the expression is the same as if one desired to speak of the relation of a 
+five-pound note to the diameter of the earth. However, the reconciliation of irrational forms in which 
+certain economic relations appear and assert themselves in practice does not concern the active agents of 
+these relations in their everyday life. And since they are accustomed to move about in such relations, 
+they find nothing strange therein. A complete contradiction offers not the least mystery to them They feel 
+as much at home as a fish in water among manifestations which are separated from their internal 
+connections and absurd when isolated by themselves. What Hegel says with reference to certain 
+
+
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+mathematical formulas applies here: that which seems irrational to ordinary common sense is rational, 
+and that which seems rational to it is itself irrational. [Hegel, Encyclopadie der philosophischen 
+Wissenschaften in Grundrisse, 1. Teil, Die Logik. In: Werke, Band 6, Berlin, 1840, S. 404. — Ed.] When 
+considered in connection with the land area itself, a rise in the mass of rent is thus expressed in the same 
+way as a rise in the rate of rent, and hence the embarrassment experienced when the conditions which 
+would explain the one case are lacking in the other. 
+
+The price of land, however, may also rise even when the price of the agricultural product decreases. 
+
+In this case, the differential rent, and with it the price of the better lands, may have risen, owing to further 
+differentiations. Or, if this is not the case, the price of the agricultural product may have fallen by virtue 
+of greater labour productivity but in such a manner that the increased production more than 
+counterbalances this. Let us assume that one quarter cost 60 shillings. Now, if the same, acre, with the 
+same capital, should produce two quarters instead of one, and the price of one quarter should fall to 40 
+shillings, then two quarters would cost 80 shillings, so that the value of the product of the same capital 
+invested in the same acre would have risen by one-third, despite the fall in price per quarter by one-third. 
+How this is possible without selling the product above its price of production or above its value, has been 
+developed in the analysis of differential rent. As a matter of fact it is possible only in two ways. Either 
+bad soil is excluded from competition, but the price of the better soil increases with the increase in 
+differential rent, i.e., the general improvement affects the various soil types differently. Or, the same 
+price of production (and the same value, if absolute rent is paid) expresses itself on the worst soil through 
+a larger mass of products, when labour productivity has become greater. The product represents the same 
+value as before, but the price of its aliquot parts has fallen, while their number has increased. This is 
+impossible when the same capital has been employed; for in this case the same value always expresses 
+itself through any portion of the product. It is possible, however, when additional capital has been 
+expended for gypsum, guano, etc., in short, for improvements the effects of which extend over several 
+years. The stipulation is that the price of an individual quarter falls, but not to the same extent as the 
+number of quarters increases. 
+
+III. These different conditions under which rent may rise, and with it the price of land in general, or of 
+particular kinds of land, may partly compete, or partly exclude one another, and can only act alternately. 
+But it follows from the foregoing that the consequence of a rise in the price of land does not necessarily 
+signify also a rise in rent, or that a rise in rent, which always brings with it a rise in the price of land, is 
+not necessarily contingent upon an increase in the agricultural product. [42] 
+
+
+
+Rather than tracing to their origin the real natural causes leading to an exhaustion of the soil, which, 
+incidentally, were unknown to all economists writing on differential rent owing to the level of 
+agricultural chemistry in their day, the shallow conception was seized upon that any amount of capital 
+cannot be invested in a limited area of land; as the Edinburgh Review, [Tome LIV, August-December 
+1831, pp. 94-95. — Ed.] for instance, argued against Richard Jones that all of England cannot be fed 
+through the cultivation of Soho Square. If this be considered a special disadvantage of agriculture, 
+precisely the opposite is true. It is possible to invest capital here successively with fruitful results, 
+because the soil itself serves as an instrument of production, which is not the case with a factory, or holds 
+only to a limited extent, since it serves only as a foundation, as a place and a space providing a basis of 
+operations. It is true that, compared with scattered handicrafts, large-scale industry may concentrate 
+much production in a small area. Nevertheless a definite amount of space is always required at any given 
+
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+
+level of productivity, and the construction of tall buildings also has its practical limitations. Beyond this 
+any expansion of production also demands an extension of land area. The fixed capital invested in 
+machinery, etc., does not improve through use, but on the contrary, wears out. New inventions may 
+indeed permit some improvement in this respect, but with any given development in productive power, 
+machines will always deteriorate. If productivity is rapidly developed, all of the old machinery must be 
+replaced by the more advantageous; in other words, it is lost. The soil, however, if properly treated, 
+improves all the time. The advantage of the soil, permitting successive investments of capital to bring 
+gains without loss of previous investments, implies the possibility of differences in yield from these 
+successive investments of capital. 
+
+Footnotes 
+
+f381 Laing [National Distress; its Causes and Remedies, London, 1844. -- Ed.], Newman [Lectures on 
+Political Economy, London, 1857. --Ed.]. 
+
+f391 Crowlington Strike. Engels, Lage der arbeitenden Klaase in England, S.307. 
+
+KOI The paving of the streets of London has enabled the owners of some barren rocks on the coast of 
+Scotland to draw a rent from what never afforded any before." Adam Smith [An Inquiry into the Nature 
+and Causes of the Wealth of Nations,] Book 1, Chapter XI, 2. 
+
+f411 It is one of the merits of Rodbertus whose important work on rent [Sociale Briefe an von 
+Kirchmann, Drifter Brief: Widerlegung der Ricardo'schen Lehre von der Grundrente und Begrundung 
+einer neuen Rententheorie, Berlin, 1851. — Ed.] we shall discuss in Book IV [i.e., Theorien iiber den 
+Mehrwert. K. Marx. Engels, Werke, Band 26, 2. Teil, S. 7-102, 139-51. — Ed.] to have developed this 
+point. He commits the one error, however, of assuming, in the first place, that as regards capital an 
+increase in profit is always expressed by an increase in capital, so that the ratio remains the same when 
+the mass of profit increases. But this is erroneous, since the rate of profit may increase, given a changed 
+composition of capital, even if the exploitation of labour remains the same, precisely because the 
+proportional value of the constant portion of capital compared with its variable portion falls. Secondly, 
+he commits the mistake of dealing with the ratio of money-rent to a quantitatively definite piece of land, 
+e.g., an acre, as though it had been the general premise of classical economics in its analysis of the rise or 
+fall of rent. This, again, is erroneous. Classical economics always treats the rate of rent, in so far as it 
+considers rent in its natural form, with reference to the product, and in so far as it considers rent as 
+money-rent, with reference to the advanced capital, because these are in fact the rational expressions. 
+
+f421 Concerning the actual fall in the price of land when rent rises, see Passy. 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 47 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 47 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Part VI 
+
+TRANSFORMATION OF SURPLUS-PROFIT 
+
+INTO GROUND RENT 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 47 
+
+
+
+Genesis of Capitalist Ground-Rent 
+
+
+
+I. INTRODUCTORY REMARKS 
+
+We must clarify in our minds wherein lies the real difficulty in analysing ground-rent from the viewpoint 
+of modern economics, as the theoretical expression of the capitalist mode of production. Even many of 
+the more modern writers have not as yet grasped this, as evidenced by each renewed attempt to "newly" 
+explain ground-rent. The novelty almost invariably consists in a relapse into long out-of-date views. The 
+difficulty is not to explain the surplus-product produced by agricultural capital and its corresponding 
+surplus-value in general. This question is solved in the analysis of the surplus-value produced by all 
+productive capital, in whatever sphere it may be invested. The difficulty consists rather in showing the 
+source of the excess of surplus-value paid the landlord by capital invested in land in the form of rent, 
+after equalisation of the surplus-value to the average profit among the various capitals, after the various 
+capitals have shared in the total surplus-value produced by the social capital in all spheres of production 
+in proportion to their relative size; in other words, the source subsequent to this equalisation and the 
+apparently already completed distribution of all surplus-value which, in general, is to be distributed. 
+Quite apart from the practical motives, which prodded modern economists as spokesmen of industrial 
+capital against landed property to investigate this question — motives which we shall point out more 
+clearly in the chapter on history of ground-rent — the question was of paramount interest to them as 
+theorists. To admit that the appearance of rent for capital invested in agriculture is due to some particular 
+effect produced by the sphere of investment itself, due to singular qualities of the earth's crust itself, is 
+tantamount to giving up the conception of value as such, thus tantamount to abandoning all attempts at a 
+scientific understanding of this field. Even the simple observation that rent is paid out of the price of 
+agricultural produce — which takes place even where rent is paid in kind if the farmer is to recover his 
+price of production — showed the absurdity of attempting to explain the excess of this price over the 
+ordinary price of production; in other words, to explain the relative dearness of agricultural products on 
+the basis of the excess of natural productivity of agricultural production over the productivity of other 
+lines of production. For the reverse is true: the more productive labour is, the cheaper is every aliquot 
+
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+
+part of its product, because so much greater is the mass of use-values incorporating the same quantity of 
+labour, i.e., the same value. 
+
+The whole difficulty in analysing rent, therefore, consists in explaining the excess of agricultural profit 
+over the average profit, not the surplus-value, but the excess of surplus-value characteristic of this sphere 
+of production; in other words, not the "net product", but the excess of this net product over the net 
+product of other branches of industry. The average profit itself is a product formed under very definite 
+historical production relations by the movement of social processes, a product which, as we have seen, 
+requires very complex adjustment. To be able to speak at all of a surplus over the average profit, this 
+average profit itself must already be established as a standard and as a regulator of production in general 
+as is the case under capitalist production. For this reason there can be no talk of rent in the modern sense, 
+a rent consisting of a surplus over the average profit, i.e., over and above the proportional share of each 
+individual capital in the surplus-value produced by the total social capital, in social formations where it is 
+not capital which performs the function of enforcing all surplus-labour and appropriating directly all 
+surplus-value. And where therefore capital has not yet completely, or only sporadically, brought social 
+labour under its control. It reflects naivete, e.g., of a person like Passy (see below), when he speaks of 
+rent in primitive society as a surplus over profit [Passy, Rente du sol. In: Dictionnaire de l'economie 
+politique, Tome II. Paris, 1854, p. 511. — Ed.~\ — a historically defined social form of surplus-value, but 
+which, according to Passy, might almost as well exist without any society. 
+
+For the older economists, who in general merely begin analysing the capitalist mode of production, still 
+undeveloped in their day, the analysis of rent offers either no difficulty at all, or only a difficulty of a 
+completely different kind. Petty, Cantillon, and in general those writers who are closer to feudal times, 
+assume ground-rent to be the normal form of surplus-value in general, [ [Petty] A Treatise on Taxes and 
+Contributions, London, 1667, pp. 23-24; [Richard Cantillon] Essai sur la nature du commerce en 
+general, Amsterdam, 1756. — Ed.] whereas profit to them is still amorphously combined with wages, or 
+at best appears to be a portion of surplus-value extorted by the capitalist from the landlord. These writers 
+thus take as their point of departure a situation where, in the first place, the agricultural population still 
+constitutes the overwhelming majority of the nation, and, secondly, the landlord still appears as the 
+person appropriating at first hand the surplus-labour of the direct producers by virtue of his monopoly of 
+landed property, where landed property, therefore; still appears as the main condition of production. For 
+these writers the question could not yet be posed, which, inversely, seeks to investigate from the 
+viewpoint of capitalist production how landed property manages to wrest back again from capital a 
+portion of the surplus-value produced by it (that is, filched by it from the direct producers) and already 
+appropriated directly. 
+
+The physiocrats are troubled by difficulties of another nature. As the actually first systematic spokesmen 
+of capital, they attempt to analyse the nature of surplus-value in general. For them, this analysis coincides 
+with the analysis of rent, the only form of surplus-value which they recognise. Therefore, they consider 
+rent-yielding, or agricultural, capital to be the only capital producing surplus-value, and the agricultural 
+labour set in motion by it, the only labour producing surplus-value, which from a capitalist viewpoint is 
+quite properly considered the only productive labour. They are quite right in considering the creation of 
+surplus-value as decisive. Apart from other merits to be set forth in Book IV, they deserve credit 
+primarily for going back from merchant's capital, which functions solely in the sphere of circulation, to 
+productive capital, in opposition to the mercantile system, which, with its crude realism, constitutes the 
+actual vulgar economy of that period, pushing into the background in favour of its own practical interests 
+the beginnings of scientific analysis made by Petty and his successors. In this critique of the mercantile 
+
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+
+system, incidentally, only its conceptions of capital and surplus-value are dealt with. It has already been 
+indicated previously that the monetary system correctly proclaims production for the world-market and 
+the transformation of the output into commodities, and thus into money, as the prerequisite and condition 
+of capitalist production. In this system's further development into the mercantile system, it is no longer 
+the transformation of commodity-value into money, but the creation of surplus-value which is decisive — 
+but from the meaningless viewpoint of the circulation sphere and, at the same time, in such manner that 
+this surplus value is represented as surplus money, as the balance of trade surplus. At the same time, 
+however, the characteristic feature of the interested merchants and manufacturers of that period, which is 
+in keeping with the stage of capitalist development represented by them, is that the transformation of 
+feudal agricultural societies into industrial ones and the corresponding industrial struggle of nations on 
+the world-market depends on an accelerated development of capital, which is not to be arrived at along 
+the so-called natural path, but rather by means of coercive measures. It makes a tremendous difference 
+whether national capital is gradually and slowly transformed into industrial capital, or whether this 
+development is accelerated by means of a tax which they impose through protective duties mainly upon 
+landowners, middle and small peasants, and handicraftsmen, by way of accelerated expropriation of the 
+independent direct producers, and through the violently accelerated accumulation and concentration of 
+capital, in short by means of the accelerated establishment of conditions of capitalist production. It 
+simultaneously makes an enormous difference in the capitalist and industrial exploitation of the natural 
+national productive power. Hence the national character of the mercantile system is not merely a phrase 
+on the lips of its spokesmen. Under the pretext of concern solely for the wealth of the nation and the 
+resources of the state, they, in fact, pronounce the interests of the capitalist class and the amassing of 
+riches in general to be the ultimate aim of the state, and thus proclaim bourgeois society in place of the 
+old divine state. But at the same time they are consciously aware that the development of the interests of 
+capital and of the capitalist class, of capitalist production, forms the foundation of national power and 
+national ascendancy in modern society. 
+
+The physiocrats, furthermore, are correct in stating that in fact all production of surplus-value, and thus 
+all development of capital, has for its natural basis the productiveness of agricultural labour. If man were 
+not capable of producing in one working-day more means of subsistence, which signifies in the strictest 
+sense more agricultural products than every labourer needs for his own reproduction, if the daily 
+expenditure of his entire labour power sufficed merely to produce the means of subsistence indispensable 
+for his own individual requirements, then one could not speak at all either of surplus-product or 
+surplus-value. An agricultural labour productivity exceeding the individual requirements of the labourer 
+is the basis of all societies, and is above all the basis of capitalist production, which disengages a 
+constantly increasing portion of society from the production of basic foodstuffs and transforms them into 
+"free heads," as Steuart [Steuart, An Inquiry Into the Principles of Political Economy, Vol. I, Dublin, 
+1770, p. 396. — Ed.] has it, making them available for exploitation in other spheres. 
+
+But what can be said of more recent writers on economics, such as Daire, Passy, etc., who parrot the 
+most primitive conceptions concerning the natural conditions of surplus-labour and thereby surplus-value 
+in general, in the twilight of classical economy, indeed on its very death-bed, and who imagine that they 
+are thus propounding something new and striking on ground-rent [Daire, Introduction. In: Physiocrats, 1. 
+Teil, Paris, 1846; Passy, Rente du sol. In: Dictionnaire de l'economie politique, Tome II, Paris, 1854, p. 
+511.-- Ed.] long after this ground-rent has been investigated as a special form and become a specific 
+portion of surplus-value? It is particularly characteristic of vulgar economy that it echoes what was new, 
+original, profound and justified during a specific outgrown stage of development, in a period when it has 
+
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+
+turned platitudinous, stale, and false. It thus confesses its complete ignorance of the problems which 
+concerned classical economy. It confounds them with questions that could only have been posed on a 
+lower level of development of bourgeois society. The same holds true of its incessant and 
+self-complacent rumination of the physiocratic phrases concerning free trade. These phrases have long 
+since lost all theoretical interest, no matter how much they may engage the practical attention of this or 
+that state. 
+
+In natural economy proper, when no part of the agricultural product, or but a very insignificant portion, 
+enters into the process of circulation, and then only a relatively small portion of that part of the product 
+which represents the landlord's revenue, as, e.g., in many Roman latifundia, or upon the villas of 
+Charlemagne, or more or less during the entire Middle Ages (see Vincard, Histoire du travail), the 
+product and surplus-product of the large estates consists by no means purely of products of agricultural 
+labour. It encompasses equally well the products of industrial labour. Domestic handicrafts and 
+manufacturing labour as secondary occupations of agriculture, which forms the basis, are the prerequisite 
+of that mode of production upon which natural economy rests — in European antiquity and the Middle 
+Ages as well as in the present-day Indian community, in which the traditional organisation has not yet 
+been destroyed. The capitalist mode of production completely abolishes this relationship; a process 
+which may be studied on a large scale particularly in England during the last third of the 18th century. 
+Thinkers like Herrenschwand, who had grown up in more or less semi-feudal societies, still consider, 
+e.g., as late as the close of the 18th century, this separation of manufacture from agriculture as a 
+foolhardy social adventure, as an unthinkably risky mode of existence. And even in the agricultural 
+economies of antiquity showing the greatest analogy to capitalist agriculture, namely Carthage and 
+Rome, the similarity to a plantation economy is greater than to a form corresponding to the really 
+capitalist mode of exploitation. f42al A formal analogy, which, simultaneously, however, turns out to be 
+completely illusory in all essential points to a person familiar with the capitalist mode of production, who 
+does not, like Herr Mommsen,[431 discover a capitalist mode of production in every monetary economy, 
+
+is not to be found at all in continental Italy during antiquity, but at best only in Sicily, since this island 
+served Rome as an agricultural tributary so that its agriculture was aimed chiefly at export. Farmers in 
+the modern sense existed there. 
+
+An erroneous conception of the nature of rent is based upon the fact that rent in kind, partly as tithes to 
+the church and partly as a curiosity perpetuated by long-established contracts, has been dragged over into 
+modern times from the natural economy of the Middle Ages, completely in contradiction to the 
+conditions of the capitalist mode of production. It thereby creates the impression that rent does not arise 
+from the price of the agricultural product, but from its mass, thus not from social conditions, but from the 
+earth. We have previously shown that although surplus-value is manifested in a surplus-product the 
+converse does not hold that a surplus-product, representing a mere increase in the mass of product, 
+constitutes surplus-value. It may represent a minus quantity in value. Otherwise the cotton industry of 
+1860, compared with that of 1840, would show an enormous surplus-value, whereas on the contrary the 
+price of the yarn has fallen. Rent may increase enormously as a result of a succession of crop failures, 
+because the price of grain rises, although this surplus-value appears as an absolutely decreasing mass of 
+dearer wheat. Conversely, the rent may fall in consequence of a succession of bountiful years, because 
+the price falls, although the reduced rent appears as a greater mass of cheaper wheat. As regards rent in 
+kind, it should be noted now that, in the first place, it is a mere tradition carried over from an obsolete 
+mode of production and managing to prolong its existence as a survival. Its contradiction to the capitalist 
+mode of production is shown by its disappearance of itself from private contracts, and its being forcibly 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 47 
+
+shaken off as an anachronism, wherever legislation was able to intervene as in the case of church tithes in 
+England. Secondly, however, where rent in kind persisted on the basis of capitalist production, it was no 
+more, and could be no more, than an expression of money-rent in medieval garb. Wheat, for instance, is 
+quoted at 40 shillings per quarter. One portion of this wheat must replace the wages contained therein, 
+and must be sold to become available for renewed expenditure. Another portion must be sold to pay its 
+proportionate share of taxes. Seed and even a portion of fertiliser enter as commodities into the process 
+of reproduction, wherever the capitalist mode of production and with it division of social labour are 
+developed, i.e., they must be purchased for replacement purposes; and therefore another portion of this 
+quarter must be sold to obtain money for this. In so far as they need not be bought as actual commodities, 
+but are taken out of the product itself in kind, in order to enter into its reproduction anew as conditions of 
+production — as occurs not only in agriculture, but in many other lines of production producing constant 
+capital — they figure in the books as money of account and are deducted as elements of the cost-price. 
+The wear and tear of machinery, and of fixed capital in general, must be made good in money. And 
+finally comes profit, which is calculated on this sum, expressed as costs either in actual money or in 
+money of account. This profit is represented by a definite portion of the gross product, which is 
+determined by its price. And the excess portion which then remains forms rent. If the rent in kind 
+stipulated by contract is greater than this remainder determined by the price, then it does not constitute 
+rent, but a deduction from profit. Owing to this possibility alone, rent in kind is an obsolete form, in so 
+far as it does not reflect the price of the product, but may be greater or smaller than the real rent, and thus 
+may comprise not only a deduction from profit, but also from those elements required for capital 
+replacement. In fact, this rent in kind, so far as it is rent not merely in name but also in essence, is 
+exclusively determined by the excess of the price of the product over its price of production. Only it 
+presupposes that this variable is a constant magnitude. But it is such a comforting reflection that the 
+product in kind should suffice, first, to maintain the labourer secondly, to leave the capitalist tenant 
+farmer more food than he needs, and finally, that the remainder should constitute the natural rent. Quite 
+like a manufacturer producing 200,000 yards of cotton goods. These yards of goods not only suffice to 
+clothe his labourers; to clothe his wife, all his offspring and himself abundantly; but also leave over 
+enough cotton for sale, in addition to paying an enormous rent in terms of cotton goods. It is all so 
+simple ! Deduct the price of production from 200,000 yards of cotton goods, and a surplus of cotton 
+goods must remain for rent. But it is indeed a naive conception to deduct the price of production of, say, 
+£10,000 from 200,000 yards of cotton goods, without knowing the selling price, to deduct money from 
+cotton goods, to deduct an exchange- value from a use- value as such, and thus to determine the surplus of 
+yards of cotton goods over pounds sterling. It is worse than squaring the circle, which is at least based 
+upon the conception that there is a limit at which straight lines and curves imperceptibly flow together. 
+But such is the prescription of M. Passy. Deduct money from cotton goods, before the cotton goods have 
+been converted into money, either in one's mind or in reality! What remains is the rent, which, however, 
+is to be grasped naturaliter (see, for instance, Karl Arnd [K. Arnd, Die naturgemasse Volkswirtschaft, 
+gegeniiber dem Monopoliengeiste und dem Communismus, Hanau, 1845, S. 461-62. — Ed.]) and not by 
+deviltries of sophistry. The entire restoration of rent in kind is finally reduced to this foolishness, the 
+deduction of the price of production from so many and so many bushels of wheat, and the subtraction of 
+a sum of money from a cubic measure. 
+
+II. LABOUR RENT 
+
+If we consider ground-rent in its simplest form, that of labour rent, where the direct producer, using 
+instruments of labour (plough, cattle, etc.) which actually or legally belong to him, cultivates soil actually 
+
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+owned by him during part of the week, and works during the remaining days upon the estate of the feudal 
+lord without any compensation from the feudal lord, the situation here is still quite clear, for in this case 
+rent and surplus-value are identical. Rent, not profit, is the form here through which unpaid 
+surplus-labour expresses itself. To what extent the labourer (a self-sustaining serf) can secure in this case 
+a surplus above his indispensable necessities of life, i.e., a surplus above that which we would call wages 
+under the capitalist mode of production, depends, other circumstances remaining unchanged, upon the 
+proportion in which his labour-time is divided into labour-time for himself and enforced labour-time for 
+his feudal lord. This surplus above the indispensable requirements of life, the germ of what appears as 
+profit under the capitalist mode of production, is therefore wholly determined by the amount of 
+ground-rent, which in this case is not only directly unpaid surplus-labour, but also appears as such. It is 
+unpaid surplus-labour for the "owner" of the means of production, which here coincide with the land, and 
+so far as they differ from it, are mere accessories to it. That the product of the serf must here suffice to 
+reproduce his conditions of labour, in addition to his subsistence, is a circumstance which remains the 
+same under all modes of production. For it is not the result of their specific form, but a natural requisite 
+of all continuous and reproductive labour in general, of any continuing production, which is always 
+simultaneously reproduction, i.e., including reproduction of its own operating conditions. It is 
+furthermore evident that in all forms in which the direct labourer remains the "possessor" of the means of 
+production and labour conditions necessary for the production of his own means of subsistence, the 
+property relationship must simultaneously appear as a direct relation of lordship and servitude, so that the 
+direct producer is not free; a lack of freedom which may be reduced from serfdom with enforced labour 
+to a mere tributary relationship. The direct producer, according to our assumption, is to be found here in 
+possession of his own means of production, the necessary material labour conditions required for the 
+realisation of his labour and the production of his means of subsistence. He conducts his agricultural 
+activity and the rural home industries connected with it independently. This independence is not 
+undermined by the circumstance that the small peasants may form among themselves a more or less 
+natural production community, as they do in India, since it is here merely a question of independence 
+from the nominal lord of the manor. Under such conditions the surplus-labour for the nominal owner of 
+the land can only be extorted from them by other than economic pressure, whatever the form assumed 
+may be.[44] This differs from slave or plantation economy in that the slave works under alien conditions 
+of production and not independently. Thus, conditions of personal dependence are requisite, a lack of 
+personal freedom, no matter to what extent, and being tied to the soil as its accessory, bondage in the true 
+sense of the word. Should the direct producers not be confronted by a private landowner, but rather, as in 
+Asia, under direct subordination to a state which stands over them as their landlord and simultaneously as 
+sovereign, then rent and taxes coincide, or rather, there exists no tax which differs from this form of 
+ground-rent. Under such circumstances, there need exist no stronger political or economic pressure than 
+that common to all subjection to that state. The state is then the supreme lord. Sovereignty here consists 
+in the ownership of land concentrated on a national scale. But, on the other hand, no private ownership of 
+land exists, although there is both private and common possession and use of land. 
+
+The specific economic form, in which unpaid surplus-labour is pumped out of direct producers, 
+determines the relationship of rulers and ruled, as it grows directly out of production itself and, in turn, 
+reacts upon it as a determining element. Upon this, however, is founded the entire formation of the 
+economic community which grows up out of the production relations themselves, thereby simultaneously 
+its specific political form. It is always the direct relationship of the owners of the conditions of 
+production to the direct producers — a relation always naturally corresponding to a definite stage in the 
+development of the methods of labour and thereby its social productivity — which reveals the innermost 
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+secret, the hidden basis of the entire social structure and with it the political form of the relation of 
+sovereignty and dependence, in short, the corresponding specific form of the state. This does not prevent 
+the same economic basis — the same from the standpoint of its main conditions — due to innumerable 
+different empirical circumstances, natural environment, racial relations, external historical influences, 
+etc. from showing infinite variations and gradations in appearance, which can be ascertained only by 
+analysis of the empirically given circumstances. 
+
+So much is evident with respect to labour rent, the simplest and most primitive form of rent: Rent is here 
+the primeval form of surplus-labour and coincides with it. But this identity of surplus-value with unpaid 
+labour of others need not be analysed here because it still exists in its visible, palpable form, since the 
+labour of the direct producer for himself is still separated in space and time from his labour for the 
+landlord and the latter appears directly in the brutal form of enforced labour for a third person. In the 
+same way the "attribute" possessed by the soil to produce rent is here reduced to a tangibly open secret, 
+for the disposition to furnish rent here also includes human labour-power bound to the soil, and the 
+property relation which compels the owner of labour-power to drive it on and activate it beyond such 
+measure as is required to satisfy his own indispensable needs. Rent consists directly in the appropriation 
+of this surplus expenditure of labour-power by the landlord; for the direct producer pays him no 
+additional rent. Here, where surplus-value and rent are not only identical but where surplus-value has the 
+tangible form of surplus-labour, the natural conditions or limits of rent, being those of surplus- value in 
+general, are plainly clear. The direct producer must 1) possess enough labour-power, and 2) the natural 
+conditions of his labour, above all the soil cultivated by him, must he productive enough, in a word, the 
+natural productivity of his labour must be big enough to give him the possibility of retaining some 
+surplus-labour over and above that required for the satisfaction of his own indispensable needs. It is not 
+this possibility which creates the rent, but rather compulsion which turns this possibility into reality. But 
+the possibility itself is conditioned by subjective and objective natural circumstances. And here too lies 
+nothing at all mysterious. Should labour-power be minute, and the natural conditions of labour scanty, 
+then the surplus-labour is small, but in such a case so are the wants of the producers on the one hand and 
+the relative number of exploiters of surplus-labour on the other, and finally so is the surplus-product, 
+whereby this barely productive surplus-labour is realised for those few exploiting landowners. 
+
+Finally, labour rent in itself implies that, all other circumstances remaining equal, it will depend wholly 
+upon the relative amount of surplus-labour, or enforced labour, to what extent the direct producer shall be 
+enabled to improve his own condition, to acquire wealth, to produce an excess over and above his 
+indispensable means of subsistence, or, if we wish to anticipate the capitalist mode of expression, 
+whether he shall be able to produce a profit for himself, and how much of a profit, i.e., an excess over his 
+wages which have been produced by himself. Rent here is the normal, all-absorbing, so to say legitimate 
+form of surplus-labour, and far from being excess over profit, which means in this case being above any 
+other excess over wages, it is rather that the amount of such profit, and even its very existence, depends, 
+other circumstances being equal, upon the amount of rent, i.e., the enforced surplus-labour to be 
+surrendered to the landowners. 
+
+Since the direct producer is not the owner, but only a possessor, and since all his surplus-labour de jure 
+actually belongs to the landlord, some historians have expressed astonishment that it should he at all 
+possible for those subject to enforced labour, or serfs, to acquire any independent property, or relatively 
+speaking, wealth, under such circumstances. However, it is evident that tradition must play a dominant 
+role in the primitive and undeveloped circumstances on which these social production relations and the 
+corresponding mode of production are based. It is furthermore clear that here as always it is in the 
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+interest of the ruling section of society to sanction the existing order as law and to legally establish its 
+limits given through usage and tradition. Apart from all else, this, by the way, comes about of itself as 
+soon as the constant reproduction of the basis of the existing order and its fundamental relations assumes 
+a regulated and orderly form in the course of time. And such regulation and order are themselves 
+indispensable elements of any mode of production, if it is to assume social stability and independence 
+from mere chance and arbitrariness. These are precisely the form of its social stability and therefore its 
+relative freedom from mere arbitrariness and mere chance. Under backward conditions of the production 
+process as well as the corresponding social relations, it achieves this form by mere repetition of their very 
+reproduction. If this has continued on for some time, it entrenches itself as custom and tradition and is 
+finally sanctioned as an explicit law. However, since the form of this surplus-labour, enforced labour, is 
+based upon the imperfect development of all social productive powers and the crudeness of the methods 
+of labour itself, it will naturally absorb a relatively much smaller portion of the direct producer's total 
+labour than under developed modes of production, particularly the capitalist mode of production. Take it, 
+for instance, that the enforced labour for the landlord originally amounted to two days per week. These 
+two days of enforced labour per week are thereby fixed, are a constant magnitude, legally regulated by 
+prescriptive or written law. But the productivity of the remaining days of the week, which are at the 
+disposal of the direct producer himself, is a variable magnitude, which must develop in the course of his 
+experience, just as the new wants he acquires, and just as the expansion of the market for his product and 
+the increasing assurance with which he disposes of this portion of his labour-power will spur him on to a 
+greater exertion of his labour-power, whereby it should not be forgotten that the employment of his 
+labour-power is by no means confined to agriculture, but includes rural home industry. The possibility is 
+here presented for definite economic development taking place, depending, of course, upon favourable 
+circumstances, inborn racial characteristics, etc. 
+
+III. RENT IN KIND 
+
+The transformation of labour rent into rent in kind changes nothing from the economic standpoint in the 
+nature of ground-rent. The latter consists, in the forms considered here, in that rent is the sole prevailing 
+and normal form of surplus-value, or surplus-labour. This is further expressed in the fact that it is the 
+only surplus-labour, or the only surplus-product, which the direct producer, who is in possession of the 
+labour conditions needed for his own reproduction, must give up to the owner of the land, which in this 
+situation is the all-embracing condition of labour. And, furthermore, that land is the only condition of 
+labour which confronts the direct producer as alien property, independent of him, and personified by the 
+landlord. To whatever extent rent in kind is the prevailing and dominant form of ground-rent, it is 
+further-more always more or less accompanied by survivals of the earlier form, i.e., of rent paid directly 
+in labour, corvee-labour, no matter whether the landlord be a private person or the state. Rent in kind 
+presupposes a higher stage of civilisation for the direct producer, i.e., a higher level of development of 
+his labour and of society in general. And it is distinct from the preceding form in that surplus-labour 
+needs no longer be performed in its natural form, thus no longer under the direct supervision and 
+compulsion of the landlord or his representatives: the direct producer is driven rather by force of 
+circumstances than by direct coercion, through legal enactment rather than the whip, to perform it on his 
+own responsibility. Surplus-production, in the sense of production beyond the indispensable needs of the 
+direct producer, and within the field of production actually belonging to him, upon the land exploited by 
+himself instead of, as earlier, upon the nearby lord's estate beyond his own land, has already become a 
+self-understood rule here. In this relation the direct producer more or less disposes of his entire 
+labour-time, although, as previously, a part of this labour-time, at first practically the entire surplus 
+
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+
+portion of it, belongs to the landlord without compensation; except that the landlord no longer directly 
+receives this surplus-labour in its natural form, but rather in the products' natural form in which it is 
+realised. The burdensome, and according to the way in which enforced labour is regulated, more or less 
+disturbing interruption by work for the landlord (see Buch I, Kap. VIII, 2) [English edition Ch X, 2 — Ed] 
+("Manufacturer and Boyard") stops wherever rent in kind appears in pure form, or at least it is reduced to 
+a few short intervals during the year, when a continuation of some corvee-labour side by side with rent in 
+kind takes place. The labour of the producer for himself and his labour for the landlord are no longer 
+palpably separated by time and space. This rent in kind, in its pure form, while it may drag fragments 
+along into more highly developed modes of production and production relations, still presupposes for its 
+existence a natural economy, i.e., that the conditions of the economy are either wholly or for the 
+overwhelming part produced by the economy itself, directly replaced and reproduced out of its gross 
+product. It furthermore presupposes the combination of rural home industry with agriculture. The 
+surplus-product, which forms the rent, is the product of this combined agricultural and industrial family 
+labour, no matter whether rent in kind contains more or less of the industrial product, as is often the case 
+in the Middle Ages, or whether it is paid only in the form of actual products of the land. In this form of 
+rent it is by no means necessary for rent in kind, which represents the surplus-labour, to fully exhaust the 
+entire surplus-labour of the rural family. Compared with labour rent, the producer rather has more room 
+for action to gain time for surplus-labour whose product shall belong to himself, as well as the product of 
+his labour which satisfies his indispensable needs. Similarly, this form will give rise to greater 
+differences in the economic position of the individual direct producers. At least the possibility for such a 
+differentiation exists, and the possibility for the direct producer to have in turn acquired the means to 
+exploit other labourers directly. This, however, does not concern us here, since we are dealing with rent 
+in kind in its pure form; just as in general we cannot enter into the endless variety of combinations 
+wherein the various forms of rent may be united, adulterated and amalgamated. The form of rent in kind, 
+by being bound to a definite type of product and production itself and through its indispensable 
+combination of agriculture and domestic industry, through its almost complete self-sufficiency whereby 
+the peasant family supports itself through its independence from the market and the movement of 
+production and history of that section of society lying outside of its sphere, in short owing to the 
+character of natural economy in general, this form is quite adapted to furnishing the basis for stationary 
+social conditions as we see, e.g., in Asia. Here, as in the earlier form of labour rent, ground-rent is the 
+normal form of surplus-value, and thus of surplus-labour, i.e., of the entire excess labour which the direct 
+producer must perform gratis, hence actually under compulsion although this compulsion no longer 
+confronts him in the old brutal form — for the benefit of the owner of his essential condition of labour, 
+the land. The profit, if by erroneously anticipating we may thus call that portion of the direct producer' s 
+labour excess over his necessary labour, which he retains for himself, has so little to do with determining 
+rent in kind, that this profit, on the contrary, grows up behind the back of rent and finds its natural limit 
+in the size of rent in kind. The latter may assume dimensions which seriously imperil reproduction of the 
+conditions of labour, the means of production themselves, rendering the expansion of production more or 
+less impossible and reducing the direct producers to the physical minimum of means of subsistence. This 
+is particularly the case, when this form is met with and exploited by a conquering commercial nation, 
+e.g., the English in India. 
+
+IV. MONEY-RENT 
+
+By money-rent — as distinct from industrial and commercial ground-rent based upon the capitalist mode 
+of production, which is but an excess over average profit — we here mean the ground-rent which arises 
+
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+from a mere change in form of rent in kind, just as the latter in turn is but a modification of labour rent. 
+The direct producer here turns over instead of the product, its price to the landlord (who may be either 
+the state or a private individual). An excess of products in their natural form no longer suffices; it must 
+be converted from its natural form into money-form. Although the direct producer still continues to 
+produce at least the greater part of his means of subsistence himself, a certain portion of this product 
+must now be converted into commodities, must be produced as commodities. The character of the entire 
+mode of production is thus more or less changed. It loses its independence, its detachment from social 
+connection. The ratio of cost of production, which now comprises greater or lesser expenditures of 
+money, becomes decisive; at any rate, the excess of that portion of gross product to be converted into 
+money over that portion which must serve, on the one hand, as means of reproduction again, and, on the 
+other, as means of direct subsistence, assumes a determining role. However, the basis of this type of rent, 
+although approaching its dissolution, remains the same as that of rent in kind, which constitutes its point 
+of departure. The direct producer as before is still possessor of the land either through inheritance or 
+some other traditional right, and must perform for his lord, as owner of his most essential condition of 
+production, excess corvee-labour, that is, unpaid labour for which no equivalent is returned, in the form 
+of a surplus-product transformed into money. Ownership of the conditions of labour as distinct from 
+land, such as agricultural implements and other goods and chattels, is transformed into the property of the 
+direct producer even under the earlier forms of rent, first in fact, and then also legally, and even more so 
+is this the precondition for the form of money-rent. The transformation of rent in kind into money-rent, 
+taking place first sporadically and then on a more or less national scale, presupposes a considerable 
+development of commerce, of urban industry, of commodity-production in general, and thereby of 
+money circulation. It furthermore assumes a market-price for products, and that they be sold at prices 
+roughly approximating their values, which need not at all be the case under earlier forms. In Eastern 
+Europe we may still partly observe this transformation taking place tinder our very eyes. How unfeasible 
+it can be without a certain development of social labour productivity is proved by various unsuccessful 
+attempts to carry it through under the Roman Empire, and by relapses into rent in kind after seeking to 
+convert at least the state tax portion of this rent into money-rent. The same transitional difficulties are 
+evidenced, e.g., in pre-revolutionary France, when money-rent was combined with and adulterated by, 
+survivals of its earlier forms. 
+
+Money-rent, as a transmuted form of rent in kind, and in antithesis to it, is, nevertheless, the final form, 
+and simultaneously the form of dissolution of the type of ground-rent which we have heretofore 
+considered, namely ground-rent as the normal form of surplus-value and of the unpaid surplus-labour to 
+be performed for the owner of the conditions of production. In its pure form, this rent, like labour rent 
+and rent in kind, represents no excess over profit. It absorbs the profit, as it is understood. In so far as 
+profit arises beside it practically as a separate portion of excess labour, money-rent like rent in its earlier 
+forms still constitutes the normal limit of such embryonic profit, which can only develop in relation to 
+the possibilities of exploitation, be it of one's own excess labour or that of another, which remains after 
+the performance of the surplus-labour represented by money-rent. Should any profit actually arise along 
+with this rent, then this profit does not constitute the limit of rent, but rather conversely, the rent is the 
+limit of the profit. However, as already indicated, money-rent is simultaneously the form of dissolution 
+of the ground-rent considered thus far, coinciding prima facie with surplus-value and surplus-labour, i.e., 
+ground-rent as the normal and dominant form of surplus- value. 
+
+In its further development money-rent must lead — aside from all intermediate forms, e.g., the small 
+peasant tenant farmer — either to the transformation of land into peasants' freehold, or to the form 
+
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+corresponding to the capitalist mode of production, that is, to rent paid by the capitalist tenant farmer. 
+
+With money-rent prevailing, the traditional and customary legal relationship between landlord and 
+subjects who possess and cultivate a part of the land, is necessarily turned into a pure money relationship 
+fixed contractually in accordance with the rules of positive law. The possessor engaged in cultivation 
+thus becomes virtually a mere tenant. This transformation serves on the one hand, provided other general 
+production relations permit, to expropriate more and more the old peasant possessors and to substitute 
+capitalist tenants in their stead. On the other hand, it leads to the former possessor buying himself free 
+from his rent obligation and to his transformation into an independent peasant with complete ownership 
+of the land he tills. The transformation of rent in kind into money-rent is furthermore not only inevitably 
+accompanied, but even anticipated, by the formation of a class of property-less day-labourers, who hire 
+themselves out for money. During their genesis, when this new class appears but sporadically, the custom 
+necessarily develops among the more prosperous peasants subject to rent payments of exploiting 
+agricultural wage-labourers for their own account, much as in feudal times, when the more well-to-do 
+peasant serfs themselves also held serfs. In this way, they gradually acquire the possibility of 
+accumulating a certain amount of wealth and themselves becoming transformed into future capitalists. 
+The old self-employed possessors of land themselves thus give rise to a nursery school for capitalist 
+tenants, whose development is conditioned by the general development of capitalist production beyond 
+the bounds of the country-side. This class shoots up very rapidly when particularly favourable 
+circumstances come to its aid, as in England in the 16th century, where the then progressive depreciation 
+of money enriched them under the customary long leases at the expense of the landlords. 
+
+Furthermore: as soon as rent assumes the form of money-rent, and thereby the relationship between 
+rent-paying peasant and landlord becomes a relationship fixed by contract — a development which is only 
+possible generally when the world-market, commerce and manufacture have reached a certain relatively 
+high level — the leasing of land to capitalists inevitably also makes its appearance. The latter hitherto 
+stood beyond the rural limits and now carry over to the countryside and agriculture the capital acquired 
+in the cities and with it the capitalist mode of operation developed — i.e., creating a product as a mere 
+commodity and solely as a means of appropriating surplus-value. This form can become the general rule 
+only in those countries which dominate the world-market in the period of transition from the feudal to the 
+capitalist mode of production. When the capitalist tenant farmer steps in between landlord and actual 
+tiller of the soil, all relations which arose out of the old rural mode of production are torn asunder. The 
+farmer becomes the actual commander of these agricultural labourers and the actual exploiter of their 
+surplus-labour, whereas the landlord maintains a direct relationship, and indeed simply a money and 
+contractual relationship, solely with this capitalist tenant. Thus, the nature of rent is also transformed, not 
+merely in fact and by chance, as occurred in part even under earlier forms, but normally, in its recognised 
+and prevailing form. From the normal form of surplus-value and surplus-labour, it descends to a mere 
+excess of this surplus-labour over that portion of it appropriated by the exploiting capitalist in the form of 
+profit; just as the total surplus-labour, profit and excess over profit, is extracted directly by him, collected 
+in the form of the total surplus-product, and turned into cash. It is only the excess portion of this 
+surplus-value which is extracted by him from the agricultural labourer by direct exploitation, by means of 
+his capital, which he turns over to the landlord as rent. How much or how little he turns over to the latter 
+depends, on the average, upon the limits set by the average profit which is realised by capital in the 
+non-agricultural spheres of production, and by the prices of non-agricultural production regulated by this 
+average profit. From a normal form of surplus-value and surplus-labour, rent has now become 
+transformed into an excess over that portion of the surplus-labour claimed in advance by capital as its 
+
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+legitimate and normal share, and characteristic of this particular sphere of production, the agricultural 
+sphere of production. Profit, instead of rent, has now become the normal form of surplus-value and rent 
+still exists solely as a form, not of surplus-value in general, but of one of its offshoots, surplus-profit, 
+which assumes an independent form under particular circumstances. It is not necessary to elaborate the 
+manner in which a gradual transformation in the mode of production itself corresponds to this 
+transformation. This already follows from the fact that it is normal for the capitalist tenant farmer to 
+produce agricultural products as commodities, and that, while formerly only the excess over his means of 
+subsistence was converted into commodities, now but a relatively insignificant part of these commodities 
+is directly used by him as means of subsistence. It is no longer the land, but rather capital, which has now 
+brought even agricultural labour under its direct sway and productiveness. 
+
+The average profit and the price of production regulated thereby are formed outside of relations in the 
+country-side and within the sphere of urban trade and manufacture. The profit of the rent-paying peasant 
+does not enter into it as an equalising factor, for his relation to the landlord is not a capitalist one. In so 
+far as he makes profit, i.e., realises an excess above his necessary means of subsistence, either by his own 
+labour or through exploiting other people's labour, it is done behind the back of the normal relationship, 
+and other circumstances being equal, the size of this profit does not determine rent, but on the contrary, it 
+is determined by the rent as its limit. The high rate of profit in the Middle Ages is not entirely due to the 
+low composition of capital, in which the variable component invested in wages predominates. It is due to 
+swindling on the land, the appropriation of a portion of the landlord's rent and of the income of his 
+vassals. If the country-side exploits the town politically in the Middle Ages, wherever feudalism has not 
+been broken down by exceptional urban development — as in Italy, the town, on the other hand, exploits 
+the land economically everywhere and without exception, through its monopoly prices, its system of 
+taxation, its guild organisation, its direct commercial fraudulence and its usury. 
+
+One might imagine that the mere appearance of the capitalist farmer in agricultural production would 
+prove that the price of agricultural products, which from time immemorial have paid rent in one form or 
+another, must be higher, at least at the time of this appearance, than the prices of production of 
+manufacture whether it be because the price of such agricultural products has reached a monopoly price 
+level, or has risen as high as the value of the agricultural products, and their value actually is above the 
+price of production regulated by the average profit. For were this not so, the capitalist farmer could not at 
+all realise, at the existing prices of agricultural produce, first the average profit out of the price of these 
+products, and then pay out of the same price an excess above this profit in the form of rent. One might 
+conclude from this that the general rate of profit, which guides the capitalist farmer in his contract with 
+the landlord, has been formed without including rent, and, therefore, as soon as it assumes a regulating 
+role in agricultural production, it finds this excess at hand and pays it to the landlord. It is in this 
+traditional manner that, for instance, Herr Rodbertus explains the matter. [J. Rodbertus, Sociale Briefe an 
+von Kirchmann, Dritter Brief : Widerlegung der Ricardo' schen Lehre von der Grundrente und 
+Begiindung einer neuen Rententheorie. See also K. Marx, Theorien iiber den Mehrwert. 2. Teil, 7957, pp. 
+3-106, 142-54. -Ed.] But: 
+
+First . This appearance of capital as an independent and leading force in agriculture does not take place 
+all at once and generally, but gradually and in particular lines of production It encompasses at first, not 
+agriculture proper, but such branches of production as cattle-breeding, especially sheep-raising, whose 
+principal product, wool, offers at the early stages a constant excess of market-price over price of 
+production during the rise of industry, and this does not level out until later. Thus in England during the 
+16th century. 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 47 
+
+Secondly. Since this capitalist production appears at first but sporadically, the assumption cannot be 
+disputed that it first extends only to such land categories as are able, through their particular fertility, or 
+their exceptionally favourable location, to generally pay a differential rent. 
+
+Thirdly. Let us even assume that at the time this mode of production appeared -- and this indeed 
+presupposes an increasing preponderance of urban demand — the prices of agricultural products were 
+higher than the price of production, as was doubtless the case in England during the last third of the 17th 
+century. Nevertheless, as soon as this mode of production has somewhat extricated itself from the mere 
+subordination of agriculture to capital, and as soon as agricultural improvement and the reduction of 
+production costs, which necessarily accompany its development, have taken place, the balance will be 
+restored by a reaction, a fall in the price of agricultural produce, as happened in England in the first half 
+of the 18th century. 
+
+Rent, thus, as an excess over the average profit cannot be explained in this traditional way. Whatever 
+may be the existing historical circumstances at the time rent first appears, once it has struck root it cannot 
+exist except under the modern conditions earlier described. 
+
+Finally, it should be noted in the transformation of rent in kind into money-rent that along with it 
+capitalised rent, or the price of land, and thus its alienability and alienation become essential factors, and 
+that thereby not only can the former peasant subject to payment of rent be transformed into an 
+independent peasant proprietor, but also urban and other moneyed people can buy real estate in order to 
+lease it either to peasants or capitalists and thus enjoy rent as a form of interest on their capital so 
+invested; that, therefore, this circumstance likewise facilitates the transformation of the former mode of 
+exploitation, the relation between owner and actual cultivator of the land, and of rent itself. 
+
+V. METAYAGE AND PEASANT PROPRIETORSHIP OF LAND PARCELS 
+
+We have now arrived at the end of our elaboration of ground-rent. 
+
+In all these forms of ground-rent, whether labour rent, rent in kind, or money-rent (as merely a changed 
+form of rent in kind), the one paying rent is always supposed to be the actual cultivator and possessor of 
+the land, whose unpaid surplus-labour passes directly into the hands of the landlord. Even in the last 
+form, money-rent in so far as it is "pure," i.e., merely a changed form of rent in kind — this is not only 
+possible, but actually takes place. 
+
+As a transitory form from the original form of rent to capitalist rent, we may consider the metayer 
+system, or share-cropping, under which the manager (farmer) furnishes labour (his own or another's), 
+and also a portion of working capital, and the landlord furnishes, aside from land, another portion of 
+working capital (e.g., cattle), and the product is divided between tenant and landlord in definite 
+proportions which vary from country to country. On the one hand, the farmer here lacks sufficient capital 
+required for complete capitalist management. On the other hand, the share here appropriated by the 
+landlord does not bear the pure form of rent. It may actually include interest on the capital advanced by 
+him and an excess rent. It may also absorb practically the entire surplus-labour of the farmer, or leave 
+him a greater or smaller portion of this surplus-labour. But, essentially, rent no longer appears here as the 
+normal form of surplus-value in general. On the one hand, the sharecropper, whether he employs his own 
+or another' s labour, is to lay claim to a portion of the product not in his capacity as labourer, but as 
+possessor of part of the instruments of labour, as his own capitalist. On the other hand, the landlord 
+claims his share not exclusively on the basis of his land-ownership, but also as lender of capital. f44al 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 47 
+
+A survival of the old communal ownership of land, which had endured after the transition to independent 
+peasant farming, e.g., in Poland and Rumania, served there as a subterfuge for effecting a transition to the 
+lower forms of ground-rent. A portion of the land belongs to the individual peasant and is tilled 
+independently by him. Another portion is tilled in common and creates a surplus-product, which serves 
+partly to cover community expenses, partly as a reserve in cases of crop failure, etc. These last two parts 
+of the surplus-product, and ultimately the entire surplus-product including the land upon which it has 
+been grown, are more and more usurped by state officials and private individuals, and thus the originally 
+free peasant proprietors, whose obligation to till this land in common is maintained, are transformed into 
+vassals subject either to corvee-labour or rent in kind; while the usurpers of common land are 
+transformed into owners, not only of the usurped common lands, but even the very lands of the peasants 
+themselves. 
+
+We need not further investigate slave economy proper (which likewise passes through a metamorphosis 
+from the patriarchal system mainly for home use to the plantation system for the world-market) nor the 
+management of estates under which the landlords themselves are independent cultivators, possessing all 
+instruments of production, and exploiting the labour of free or unfree bondsmen, who are paid either in 
+kind or money. Landlord and owner of the instruments of production, and thus the direct exploiter of 
+labourers included among these elements of production, are in this case one and the same person. Rent 
+and profit likewise coincide then, there occurring no separation of the different forms of surplus- value. 
+The entire surplus-labour of the labourers, which is manifested here in the surplus-product, is extracted 
+from them directly by the owner of all instruments of production, to which belong the land and, under the 
+original form of slavery, the immediate producers themselves. Where the capitalist outlook prevails, as 
+on American plantations, this entire surplus-value is regarded as profit; where neither the capitalist mode 
+of production itself exists, nor the corresponding outlook has been transferred from capitalist countries, it 
+appears as rent. At any rate, this form presents no difficulties. The income of the landlord, whatever it 
+may be called, the available surplus-product appropriated by him, is here the normal and prevailing form, 
+whereby the entire unpaid surplus-labour is directly appropriated, and landed property forms the basis of 
+such appropriation. 
+
+Further, proprietorship of land parcels. The peasant here is simultaneously the free owner of his land, 
+which appears as his principal instrument of production, the indispensable field of employment for his 
+labour and his capital. No lease money is paid under this form. Rent, therefore, does not appear as a 
+separate form of surplus-value, although in countries in which otherwise the capitalist mode of 
+production is developed, it appears as a surplus-profit compared with other lines of production; but as 
+surplus-profit which, like all proceeds of his labour in general, accrues to the peasant. 
+
+This form of landed property presupposes, as in the earlier older forms, that the rural population greatly 
+predominates numerically over the town population, so that, even if the capitalist mode of production 
+otherwise prevails, it is but relatively little developed, and thus also in the other lines of production the 
+concentration of capital is restricted to narrow limits and a fragmentation of capital predominates. In the 
+nature of things, the greater portion of agricultural produce must be consumed as direct means of 
+subsistence by the producers themselves, the peasants, and only the excess above that will find its way as 
+commodities into urban commerce. No matter how the average market-price of agricultural products may 
+here be regulated, differential rent, an excess portion of commodity-prices from superior or more 
+favourably located land, must evidently exist here much as under the capitalist mode of production. This 
+differential rent exists, even where this form appears under social conditions, under which no general 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 47 
+
+market-price has as yet been developed; it appears then in the excess surplus-product. Only then it flows 
+into the pockets of the peasant whose labour is realised under more favourable natural conditions. The 
+assumption here is generally to be made that no absolute rent exists, i.e., that the worst soil does not pay 
+any rent — precisely under this form where the price of land enters as a factor in the peasant' s actual cost 
+of production whether because in the course of this form' s further development either the price of land 
+has been computed at a certain money- value, in dividing up an inheritance, or, during the constant 
+change in ownership of an entire estate, or of its component parts, the land has been bought by the 
+cultivator himself, largely by raising money on mortgage; and, therefore, where the price of land, 
+representing nothing more than capitalised rent, is a factor assumed in advance, and where rent thus 
+seems to exist independently of any differentiation in fertility and location of the land. For, absolute rent 
+presupposes either realised excess in product value above its price of production, or a monopoly price 
+exceeding the value of the product. But since agriculture here is carried on largely as cultivation for 
+direct subsistence, and the land exists as an indispensable field of employment for the labour and capital 
+of the majority of the population, the regulating market-price of the product will reach its value only 
+under extraordinary circumstances. But this value will, generally, be higher than its price of production 
+owing to the preponderant element of living labour, although this excess of value over price of 
+production will in turn be limited by the low composition even of non-agricultural capital in countries 
+with an economy composed predominantly of land parcels. For the peasant owning a parcel, the limit of 
+exploitation is not set by the average profit of capital, in so far as he is a small capitalist; nor, on the other 
+hand, by the necessity of rent, in so far as he is a landowner. The absolute limit for him as a small 
+capitalist is no more than the wages he pays to himself, after deducting his actual costs. So long as the 
+price of the product covers these wages, he will cultivate his land, and often at wages down to a physical 
+minimum. As for his capacity as land proprietor, the barrier of ownership is eliminated for him, since it 
+can make itself felt only vis-a-vis a capital (including labour) separated from land-ownership, by erecting 
+an obstacle to the investment of capital. It is true, to be sure, that interest on the price of land — which 
+generally has to be paid to still another individual, the mortgage creditor — is a barrier. But this interest 
+can be paid precisely out of that portion of surplus-labour which would constitute profit under capitalist 
+conditions. The rent anticipated in the price of land and in the interest paid for it can therefore be nothing 
+but a portion of the peasant's capitalised surplus-labour over and above the labour indispensable for his 
+subsistence, without this surplus-labour being realised in a part of the commodity- value equal to the 
+entire average profit, and still less in an excess above the surplus-labour realised in the average profit, 
+i.e., in a surplus-profit. The rent may be a deduction from the average profit, or even the only portion of 
+it which is realised. For the peasant parcel holder to cultivate his land, or to buy land for cultivation, it is 
+therefore not necessary, as under the normal capitalist mode of production, that the market-price of the 
+agricultural products rise high enough to afford him the average profit, and still less a fixed excess above 
+this average profit in the form of rent. It is not necessary, therefore, that the market-price rise, either up to 
+the value or the price of production of his product. This is one of the reasons why grain prices are lower 
+in countries with predominant small peasant land proprietorship than in countries with a capitalist mode 
+of production. One portion of the surplus-labour of the peasants, who work under the least favourable 
+conditions, is bestowed gratis upon society and does not at all enter into the regulation of price of 
+production or into the creation of value in general. This lower price is consequently a result of the 
+producers' poverty and by no means of their labour productivity. 
+
+This form of free self-managing peasant proprietorship of land parcels as the prevailing, normal form 
+constitutes, on the one hand, the economic foundation of society during the best periods of classical 
+antiquity, and on the other hand, it is found among modern nations as one of the forms arising from the 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 47 
+
+dissolution of feudal land ownership. Thus, the yeomanry in England, the peasantry in Sweden, the 
+French and West German peasants. We do not include colonies here, since the independent peasant there 
+develops under different conditions. 
+
+The free ownership of the self-managing peasant is evidently the most normal form of landed property 
+for small-scale operation, i.e., for a mode of production, in which possession of the land is a prerequisite 
+for the labourer's ownership of the product of his own labour, and in which the cultivator, be he free 
+owner or vassal, always must produce his own means of subsistence independently, as an isolated 
+labourer with his family. Ownership of the land is as necessary for full development of this mode of 
+production as ownership of tools is for free development of handicraft production. Here is the basis for 
+the development of personal independence. It is a necessary transitional stage for the development of 
+agriculture itself. The causes which bring about its downfall show its limitations. These are: Destruction 
+of rural domestic industry, which forms its normal supplement as a result of the development of 
+large-scale industry; a gradual impoverishment and exhaustion of the soil subjected to this cultivation; 
+usurpation by big landowners of the common lands, which constitute the second supplement of the 
+management of land parcels everywhere and which alone enable it to raise cattle; competition, either of 
+the plantation system or large-scale capitalist agriculture. Improvements in agriculture, which on the one 
+hand cause a fall in agricultural prices and, on the other, require greater outlays and more extensive 
+material conditions of production, also contribute towards this, as in England during the first half of the 
+18th century. 
+
+Proprietorship of land parcels by its very nature excludes the development of social productive forces of 
+labour, social forms of labour, social concentration of capital, large-scale cattle-raising, and the 
+progressive application of science. 
+
+Usury and a taxation system must impoverish it everywhere. The expenditure of capital in the price of 
+the land withdraws this capital from cultivation. An infinite fragmentation of means of production, and 
+isolation of the producers themselves. Monstrous waste of human energy. Progressive deterioration of 
+conditions of production and increased prices of means of production — an inevitable law of 
+proprietorship of parcels. Calamity of seasonal abundance for this mode of production. f451 
+
+One of the specific evils of small-scale agriculture where it is combined with free land-ownership arises 
+from the cultivator's investing capital in the purchase of land. (The same applies also to the transitory 
+form, in which the big landowner invests capital, first, to buy land, and second, to manage it as his own 
+tenant farmer.) Owing to the changeable nature which the land here assumes as a mere commodity, the 
+changes of ownership increase, f461 so that the land, from the peasant's viewpoint, enters anew as an 
+investment of capital with each successive generation and division of estates, i.e., it becomes land 
+purchased by him. The price of land here forms a weighty element of the individual unproductive costs 
+of production or cost-price of the product for the individual producer. 
+
+The price of land is nothing but capitalised and therefore anticipated rent. If capitalist methods are 
+employed by agriculture, so that the landlord receives only rent, and the farmer pays nothing for land 
+except this annual rent, then it is evident that the capital invested by the landowner himself in purchasing 
+the land constitutes indeed an interest-bearing investment of capital for him, but has absolutely nothing to 
+do with capital invested in agriculture itself. It forms neither a part of the fixed, nor of the circulating, 
+capital employed here;[47[ it merely secures for the buyer a claim to receive annual rent, but has 
+absolutely nothing to do with the production of the rent itself. The buyer of land just pays his capital out 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 47 
+
+to the one who sells the land, and the seller in return relinquishes his ownership of the lend. Thus this 
+capital no longer exists as the capital of the purchaser; he no longer has it; therefore it does not belong to 
+the capital which he can invest in any way in the land itself. Whether he bought the land dear or cheap, or 
+whether he received it for nothing, alters nothing in the capital invested by the farmer in his 
+establishment, and changes nothing in the rent, but merely alters the question whether it appears to him 
+as interest or not, or as higher or lower interest respectively. 
+
+Take, for instance, the slave economy. The price paid for a slave is nothing but the anticipated and 
+capitalised surplus-value or profit to be wrung out of the slave. But the capital paid for the purchase of a 
+slave does not belong to the capital by means of which profit., surplus-labour, is extracted from him. On 
+the contrary. It is capital which the slave-bolder has parted with, it is a deduction from the capital which 
+be has available for actual production. It has ceased to exist for him, just as capital invested in purchasing 
+land has ceased to exist for agriculture. The best proof of this is that it does not reappear for the 
+slave-holder or the landowner except when he, in turn, sells his slaves or land. But then the same 
+situation prevails for the buyer. The fact that be has bought the slave does not enable him to exploit the 
+slave without further ado. He is only able to do so when he invests some additional capital in the slave 
+economy itself. 
+
+The same capital does not exist twice, once in the hands of the seller, and a second time in the hands of 
+the buyer of the land, it passes from the hands of the buyer to those of the seller, and there the matter 
+ends. The buyer now no longer has capital, but in its stead a piece of land. The circumstance that the rent 
+produced by a real investment of capital in this land is calculated by the new landowner as interest on 
+capital which he has not invested in the land, but given away to acquire the land, does not in the least 
+alter the economic nature of the land factor, any more than the circumstance that someone has paid 
+£1,000 for 3% consols has anything to do with the capital out of whose revenue the interest on the 
+national debt is paid. 
+
+In fact, the money expended in purchasing land, like that in purchasing government bonds, is merely 
+capital in itself, just as any value sum is capital in itself, potential capital, on the basis of the capitalist 
+mode of production. What is paid for land, like that for government bonds or any other purchased 
+commodity, is a sum of money. This is capital in itself, because it can be converted into capital. It 
+depends upon the use put to it by the seller whether the money obtained by him is really transformed into 
+capital or not. For the buyer, it can never again function as such, no more than any other money which he 
+has definitely paid out. It figures in his accounts as interest-bearing capital, because he considers the 
+income, received as rent from the land or as interest on state indebtedness, as interest on the money 
+which the purchase of the claim to this revenue has cost him. He can only realise it as capital through 
+resale. But then another, the new buyer, enters the same relationship maintained by the former, and the 
+money thus expended cannot be transformed into actual capital for the expender through any change of 
+hands. 
+
+In the case of small landed property the illusion is fostered still more that land itself possesses value and 
+thus enters as capital into the price of production of the product, much as machines or raw materials. But 
+we have seen that rent, and therefore capitalised rent, the price of land, can enter as a determining factor 
+into the price of agricultural products in only two cases. First, when as a consequence of the composition 
+of agricultural capital — a capital which has nothing to do with the capital invested in purchasing land - 
+the value of the products of the soil is higher than their price of production, and market conditions enable 
+the landlord to realise this difference. Second, when there is a monopoly price. And both are least of all 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 47 
+
+the case under the management of land parcels and small land-ownership because precisely here 
+production to a large extent satisfies the producers' own wants and is carried on independently of 
+regulation by the average rate of profit. Even where cultivation of land parcels is conducted upon leased 
+land, the lease money comprises, far more so than under any other conditions, a portion of the profit and 
+even a deduction from wages; this money is then only a nominal rent, not rent as an independent 
+category as opposed to wages and profit. 
+
+The expenditure of money-capital for the purchase of land, then, is not an investment of agricultural 
+capital. It is a decrease pro tanto in the capital which small peasants can employ in their own sphere of 
+production. It reduces pro tanto the size of their means of production and thereby narrows the economic 
+basis of reproduction. It subjects the small peasant to the money-lender, since credit proper occurs but 
+rarely in this sphere in general. It is a hindrance to agriculture, even where such purchase takes place in 
+the case of large estates. It contradicts in fact the capitalist mode of production, which is on the whole 
+indifferent to whether the landowner is in debt, no matter whether he has inherited or purchased his 
+estate. The nature of management of the leased estate itself is not altered whether the landowner pockets 
+the rent himself or whether he must pay it out to the holder of his mortgage. 
+
+We have seen that, in the case of a given ground-rent, the price of land is regulated by the interest rate. If 
+the rate is low, then the price of land is high, and vice versa. Normally, then, a high price of land and a 
+low interest rate should go hand in hand, so that if the peasant paid a high price for the land in 
+consequence of a low interest rate, the same low rate of interest should also secure his working capital 
+for him on easy credit terms. But in reality, things turn out differently when peasant proprietorship of 
+land parcels is the prevailing form. In the first place, the general laws of credit are not adapted to the 
+farmer, since these laws presuppose a capitalist as the producer. Secondly, where proprietorship of land 
+parcels predominates — we are not referring to colonies here — and the small peasant constitutes the 
+backbone of the nation, the formation of capital, i.e., social reproduction, is relatively weak, and still 
+weaker is the formation of loanable money-capital, in the sense previously elaborated. This presupposes 
+the concentration and existence of a class of idle rich capitalists (Massie). [ [Massie] An Essay on the 
+Governing Causes of the Natural Rate of Interest, London, 1750, pp 23-24. — Ed] Thirdly, here where 
+the ownership of the land is a necessary condition for the existence of most producers, and an 
+indispensable field of investment for their capital, the price of land is raised independently of the interest 
+rate, and often in inverse ratio to it, through the preponderance of the demand for landed property over its 
+supply. Land sold in parcels brings a far higher price in such a case than when sold in large tracts, 
+because here the number of small buyers is large and that of large buyers is small (Bandes Noires, 
+[Associations of profiteers. — Ed.] Rubichon; Newman [Newman, Lectures on Political Economy, 
+London, 1851, pp. 180-81. — Ed.]). For all these reasons, the price of land rises here with a relatively 
+high rate of interest. The relatively low interest, which the peasant derives here from the outlay of capital 
+for the purchase of land (Mounier), corresponds here, on the other side, to the high usurious interest rate 
+which he himself has to pay to his mortgage creditors. The Irish system bears out the same thing, only in 
+another form. 
+
+The price of land, this element foreign to production in itself, may therefore rise here to such a point that 
+it makes production impossible (Dombasle). 
+
+The fact that the price of land plays such a role, that purchase and sale, the circulation of land as a 
+commodity, develops to this degree, is practically a result of the development of the capitalist mode of 
+production in so far as a commodity is here the general form of all products and all instruments of 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 47 
+
+production. On the other hand, this development takes place only where the capitalist mode of production 
+has a limited development and does not unfold all of its peculiarities, because this rests precisely upon 
+the fact that agriculture is no longer, or not yet, subject to the capitalist mode of production, but rather to 
+one handed down from extinct forms of society. The disadvantages of the capitalist mode of production, 
+with its dependence of the producer upon the money-price of his product, coincide here therefore with 
+the disadvantages occasioned by the imperfect development of the capitalist mode of production. The 
+peasant turns merchant and industrialist without the conditions enabling him to produce his products as 
+commodities. 
+
+The conflict between the price of land as an element in the producers' cost-price and no element in the 
+price of production (even though the rent enters as a determining factor into the price of the agricultural 
+product, the capitalised rent, which is advanced for 20 years or more, by no means enters as a 
+determinant) is but one of the forms manifesting the general contradiction between private 
+land-ownership and a rational agriculture, the normal social utilisation of the soil. But on the other hand, 
+private land ownership, and thereby expropriation of the direct producers from the land — private 
+land-ownership by the one, which implies lack of ownership by others — is the basis of the capitalist 
+mode of production. 
+
+Here, in small-scale agriculture, the price of land, a form and result of private land-ownership, appears as 
+a barrier to production itself. In large-scale agriculture, and large estates operating on a capitalist basis, 
+ownership likewise acts as a barrier, because it limits the tenant farmer in his productive investment of 
+capital, which in the final analysis benefits not him, but the landlord. In both forms, exploitation and 
+squandering of the vitality of the soil (apart from making exploitation dependent upon the accidental and 
+unequal circumstances of individual producers rather than the attained level of social development) takes 
+the place of conscious rational cultivation of the soil as eternal communal property, an inalienable 
+condition for the existence and reproduction of a chain of successive generations of the human race. In 
+the case of small property, this results from the lack of means and knowledge of applying the social 
+labour productivity. In the case of large property, it results from the exploitation of such means for the 
+most rapid enrichment of farmer and proprietor. In the case of both through dependence on the 
+market-price. 
+
+All critique of small landed property resolves itself in the final analysis into a criticism of private 
+ownership as a barrier and hindrance to agriculture. And similarly all counter-criticism of large landed 
+property. In either case, of course, we leave aside all secondary political considerations. This barrier and 
+hindrance, which are erected by all private landed property vis-a-vis agricultural production and the 
+rational cultivation, maintenance and improvement of the soil itself, develop on both sides merely in 
+different forms, and in wrangling over the specific forms of this evil its ultimate cause is forgotten. 
+
+Small landed property presupposes that the overwhelming majority of the population is rural, and that not 
+social, but isolated labour predominates; and that, therefore, under such conditions wealth and 
+development of reproduction, both of its material and spiritual prerequisites, are out of the question, and 
+thereby also the prerequisites for rational cultivation. On the other hand, large landed property reduces 
+the agricultural population to a constantly falling minimum, and confronts it with a constantly growing 
+industrial population crowded together in large cities. It thereby creates conditions which cause an 
+irreparable break in the coherence of social interchange prescribed by the natural laws of life. As a result, 
+the vitality of the soil is squandered, and this prodigality is carried by commerce far beyond the borders 
+of a particular state (Liebig). [ Liebig, Die Chemie in ihrer Anwendung auf Agricultur und Physiologie, 
+
+
+
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+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 47 
+
+Braunschweig, 1862. -- Ed.] 
+
+While small landed property creates a class of barbarians standing halfway outside of society, a class 
+combining all the crudeness of primitive forms of society with the anguish and misery of civilised 
+countries, large landed property undermines labour-power in the last region, where its prime energy 
+seeks refuge and stores up its strength as a reserve fund for the regeneration of the vital force of nations 
+— on the land itself. Large-scale industry and large-scale mechanised agriculture work together. If 
+originally distinguished by the fact that the former lays waste and destroys principally labour-power, 
+hence the natural force of human beings, whereas the latter more directly exhausts the natural vitality of 
+the soil, they join hands in the further course of development in that the industrial system in the 
+country-side also enervates the labourers, and industry and commerce on their part supply agriculture 
+with the means for exhausting the soil. 
+
+Footnotes 
+
+f42al Adam Smith emphasises how, in his time (and this applies also to the plantations in tropical and 
+subtropical countries in our own day), rent and profit were not yet divorced from one another [Smith, An 
+Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations, Aberdeen, London, 1848, p. 44. — Ed.], for 
+the landlord was simultaneously a capitalist, just as Cato, for instance, was on his estates. But this 
+separation is precisely the prerequisite for the capitalist mode of production, to whose conception the 
+basis of slavery moreover stands in direct contradiction. 
+
+f431 Herr Mommsen, in his "Roman History," by no means uses the term capitalist in the sense employed 
+by modern economics and modern society, but rather in the manner of popular conception, such as still 
+continues to thrive, though not in England or America, but nevertheless on the European continent, as an 
+ancient tradition reflecting bygone conditions. 
+
+f441 Following the conquest of a country, the immediate aim of a conqueror was also to convert its 
+people to his own use. Cf. Linguet [Theorie des loi civiles, ou Principes fondamentaux de la societe, 
+Tomes I-II, Londres, 1767. — Ed.]. See also Moser [Osnabrukische Geschichte, 1. Theil, Berlin und 
+Stettin, S. 178. -Ed.]. 
+
+f44al Cf Buvet [Cours d'economie politique, Bruxelles, 1842. — Ed.] Tocqueville [L'ancien regime et la 
+revolution, Paris, 1856.-Ed.], Sismondi [Nouveaux principes d'economie politique. — Seconde edition, 
+Tome I, Paris, 1827. — Ed.] 
+
+f451 See the speech from the throne of the King of France in Tooke. [New-march, A History of Prices, 
+and of the State of the Circulation, during the nine years 1848-56, Vol. VI, London. 1857, pp. 29-30. — 
+Ed.] 
+
+f461 See Mounier [De I' agriculture en France, Paris, 1846. — Ed.] and Rubichon [Du mechanisme de la 
+societe en France et en Angleterre, Paris. 1837. — Ed.]. 
+
+\41] Dr. H. Maron (Extensiv oderlntensiv?) [no further information given about this pamphlet] starts 
+from the false assumption of the adversaries he opposes. He assumes that capital invested in the purchase 
+of land is "investment capital," and then engages in a controversy about the respective definitions of 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 47 
+
+investment capital and working capital, that is, fixed and circulating capital. His wholly amateurish 
+conceptions of capital in general, which may be excused incidentally in one who is not an economist in 
+view of the state of German political economy, conceal from him that this capital is neither investment 
+nor working capital, any more than the capital which someone invests at the Stock Exchange in 
+purchasing stocks or government securities, and which, for him, represents a personal investment of 
+capital, is "invested" in any branch of production. 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 48 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 48 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Part VII 
+
+REVENUES AND THEIR SOURCES 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 48 
+
+
+
+The Trinity Formula 
+
+
+
+11481 
+
+Capital — profit (profit of enterprise plus interest), land — ground-rent, labour — wages, this is the trinity 
+formula which comprises all the secrets of the social production process. 
+
+Furthermore, since as previously [Present edition: Ch. XXIII. — Ed.] demonstrated interest appears as the 
+specific characteristic product of capital and profit of enterprise on the contrary appears as wages 
+independent of capital, the above trinity formula reduces itself more specifically to the following: 
+
+Capital — interest, land -- ground-rent, labour — wages, where profit, the specific characteristic form of 
+surplus-value belonging to the capitalist mode of production, is fortunately eliminated. 
+
+On closer examination of this economic trinity, we find the following: 
+
+First, the alleged sources of the annually available wealth belong to widely dissimilar spheres and are not 
+at all analogous with one another. They have about the same relation to each other as lawyer's fees, red 
+beets and music. 
+
+Capital, land, labour! However, capital is not a thing, but rather a definite social production relation, 
+belonging to a definite historical formation of society, which is manifested in a thing and lends this thing 
+a specific social character. Capital is not the sum of the material and produced means of production. 
+Capital is rather the means of production transformed into capital, which in themselves are no more 
+capital than gold or silver in itself is money. It is the means of production monopolised by a certain 
+section of society, confronting living labour-power as products and working conditions rendered 
+independent of this very labour-power, which are personified through this antithesis in capital. It is not 
+merely the products of labourers turned into independent powers, products as rulers and buyers of their 
+producers, but rather also the social forces and the future [? illegible] [A later collation with the 
+manuscript showed that the text reads as follows: "die Gesellschaftlichen Krafte und 
+Zusammenhangende Form dieser Arbeit" (the social forces of their labour and socialised form of this 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 48 
+
+labour). — Ed.] form of this labour, which confront the labourers as properties of their products. Here, 
+then, we have a definite and, at first glance, very mystical, social form, of one of the factors in a 
+historically produced social production process. 
+
+And now alongside of this we have the land, inorganic nature as such, rudis indigestaque moles, [Ovid, 
+Metamorphoses, Book I, 7. — Ed] in all its primeval wildness. Value is labour. Therefore surplus-value 
+cannot be earth. Absolute fertility of the soil effects nothing more than the following: a certain quantity 
+of labour produces a certain product — in accordance with the natural fertility of the soil. The difference 
+in soil fertility causes the same quantities of labour and capital, hence the same value, to be manifested in 
+different quantities of agricultural products; that is, causes these products to have different individual 
+values. The equalisation of these individual values into market-values is responsible for the fact that the 
+"advantages of fertile over inferior soil... are transferred from the cultivator or consumer to the landlord". 
+(Ricardo, Principles, London, 1821, p. 62.) 
+
+And finally, as third party in this union, a mere ghost — "the" Labour, which is no more than an 
+abstraction and taken by itself does not exist at all, or, if we take... [illegible] [As has been established by 
+later reading of the manuscript, it reads here: "wenn wir das Gemeinte nehmen" (if we take that which is 
+behind it). — Ed.], the productive activity of human beings in general, by which they promote the 
+interchange with Nature, divested not only of every social form and well-defined character, but even in 
+its bare natural existence, independent of society, removed from all societies, and as an expression and 
+confirmation of life which the still non-social man in general has in common with the one who is in any 
+way social. 
+
+II 
+
+Capital — interest; landed property, private ownership of the Earth, and, to be sure, modern and 
+corresponding to the capitalist mode of production — rent; wage-labour — wages. The connection 
+between the sources of revenue is supposed to be represented in this form. Wage-labour and landed 
+property, like capital, are historically determined social forms; one of labour, the other of monopolised 
+terrestrial globe, and indeed both forms corresponding to capital and belonging to the same economic 
+formation of society. 
+
+The first striking thing about this formula is that side by side with capital, with this form of an element of 
+production belonging to a definite mode of production, to a definite historical form of social process of 
+production, side by side with an element of production amalgamated with and represented by a definite 
+social form are indiscriminately placed: the land on the one hand and labour on the other, two elements 
+of the real labour process, which in this material form are common to all modes of production, which are 
+the material elements of every process of production and have nothing to do with its social form. 
+
+Secondly. In the formula: capital — interest, land — ground-rent, labour — wages, capital, land and labour 
+appear respectively as sources of interest (instead of profit), ground-rent and wages, as their products, or 
+fruits; the former are the basis, the latter the consequence, the former are the cause, the latter the effect; 
+and indeed, in such a manner that each individual source is related to its product as to that which is 
+ejected and produced by it. All the proceeds, interest (instead of profit), rent, and wages, are three 
+components of the value of the products, i.e., generally speaking, components of value or expressed in 
+money, certain money components, price components. The formula: capital — interest is now indeed the 
+most meaningless formula of capital, but still one of its formulas. But how should land create value, i.e., 
+a socially defined quantity of labour, and moreover that particular portion of the value of its own 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 48 
+
+products which forms the rent? Land, e.g., takes part as an agent of production in creating a use-value, a 
+material product, wheat. But it has nothing to do with the production of the value of wheat. In so far as 
+value is represented by wheat, the latter is merely considered as a definite quantity of materialised social 
+labour, regardless of the particular substance in which this labour is manifested or of the particular 
+use-value of this substance. This nowise contradicts that 1) other circumstances being equal, the 
+cheapness or dearness of wheat depends upon the productivity of the soil. The productivity of 
+agricultural labour is dependent on natural conditions, and the same quantity of labour is represented by 
+more or fewer products, use-values, in accordance with such productivity. How large the quantity of 
+labour represented in one bushel of wheat depends upon the number of bushels yielded by the same 
+quantity of labour. It depends, in this case, upon the soil productivity in what quantities of product the 
+value shall be manifested. But this value is given, independent of this distribution. Value is represented 
+in use-value; and use-value is a prerequisite for the creation of value; but it is folly to create an antithesis 
+by placing a use-value, like land, on one side and on the other side value, and a particular portion of 
+value at that. 2)... [here the manuscript breaks off]. 
+
+Ill 
+
+Vulgar economy actually does no more than interpret, systematise and defend in doctrinaire fashion the 
+conceptions of the agents of bourgeois production who are entrapped in bourgeois production relations. It 
+should not astonish us, then, that vulgar economy feels particularly at home in the estranged outward 
+appearances of economic relations in which these prima facie absurd and perfect contradictions appear 
+and that these relations seem the more self-evident the more their internal relationships are concealed 
+from it, although they are understandable to the popular mind. But all science would be superfluous if the 
+outward appearance and the essence of things directly coincided. Thus, vulgar economy has not the 
+slightest suspicion that the trinity which it takes as its point of departure, namely, land — rent, capital — 
+interest, labour — wages or the price of labour, are, prima facie three impossible combinations. First we 
+have the use- value land, which has no value, and the exchange-value rent: so that a social relation 
+conceived as a thing is made proportional to Nature, i.e., two incommensurable magnitudes are supposed 
+to stand in a given ratio to one another. Then capital — interest. If capital is conceived as a certain sum of 
+values represented independently by money, then it is prima facie nonsense to say that a certain value 
+should be worth more than it is worth. It is precisely in the form: capital — interest that all intermediate 
+links are eliminated, and capital is reduced to its most general formula, which therefore in itself is also 
+inexplicable and absurd. The vulgar economist prefers the formula capital — interest, with its occult 
+quality of making a value unequal to itself, to the formula capital — profit, precisely for the reason that 
+this already more nearly approaches actual capitalist relations. Then again, driven by the disturbing 
+thought that 4 is not 5 and that 100 taler cannot possibly be 1 10 taler, he flees from capital as value to the 
+material substance of capital; to its use-value as a condition of production of labour, to machinery, raw 
+materials, etc. Thus, he is able once more to substitute in place of the first incomprehensible relation, 
+whereby 4=5, a wholly incommensurable one between a use- value, a thing on one side, and a definite 
+social production relation, surplus-value, on the other, as in the case of landed property. As soon as the 
+vulgar economist arrives at this incommensurable relation, everything becomes clear to him, and he no 
+longer feels the need for further thought. For he has arrived precisely at the "rational" in bourgeois 
+conception. Finally, labour — wages, or price of labour, is an expression, as shown in Book I, which 
+prima facie contradicts the conception of value as well as of price — the latter generally being but a 
+definite expression of value. And "price of labour" is just as irrational as a yellow logarithm. But here the 
+vulgar economist is all the more satisfied, because he has gained the profound insight of the bourgeois, 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 48 
+
+namely, that he pays money for labour, and since precisely the contradiction between the formula and the 
+conception of value relieves him from all obligation to understand the latter. 
+
+
+
+We K91 have seen that the capitalist process of production is a historically determined form of the social 
+process of production in general. The latter is as much a production process of material conditions of 
+human life as a process taking place under specific historical and economic production relations, 
+producing and reproducing these production relations themselves, and thereby also the bearers of this 
+process, their material conditions of existence and their mutual relations, i.e., their particular 
+socio-economic form. For the aggregate of these relations, in which the agents of this production stand 
+with respect to Nature and to one another, and in which they produce, is precisely society, considered 
+from the standpoint of its economic structure. Like all its predecessors, the capitalist process of 
+production proceeds under definite material conditions, which are, however, simultaneously the bearers 
+of definite social relations entered into by individuals in the process of reproducing their life. Those 
+conditions, like these relations, are on the one hand prerequisites, on the other hand results and creations 
+of the capitalist process of production; they are produced and reproduced by it. We saw also that capital 
+— and the capitalist is merely capital personified and functions in the process of production solely as the 
+agent of capital — in its corresponding social process of production, pumps a definite quantity of 
+surplus-labour out of the direct producers, or labourers; capital obtains this surplus-labour without an 
+equivalent, and in essence it always remains forced labour — no matter how much it may seem to result 
+from free contractual agreement. This surplus-labour appears as surplus-value, and this surplus-value 
+exists as a surplus-product. Surplus-labour in general, as labour performed over and above the given 
+requirements, must always remain. In the capitalist as well as in the slave system, etc., it merely assumes 
+an antagonistic form and is supplemented by complete idleness of a stratum of society. A definite 
+quantity of surplus-labour is required as insurance against accidents, and by the necessary and 
+progressive expansion of the process of reproduction in keeping with the development of the needs and 
+the growth of population, which is called accumulation from the viewpoint of the capitalist. It is one of 
+the civilising aspects of capital that it enforces this surplus-labour in a manner and under conditions 
+which are more advantageous to the development of the productive forces, social relations, and the 
+creation of the elements for a new and higher form than under the preceding forms of slavery, serfdom, 
+etc. Thus it gives rise to a stage, on the one hand, in which coercion and monopolisation of social 
+development (including its material and intellectual advantages) by one portion of society at the expense 
+of the other are eliminated; on the other hand, it creates the material means and embryonic conditions, 
+making it possible in a higher form of society to combine this surplus-labour with a greater reduction of 
+time devoted to material labour in general. For, depending on the development of labour productivity, 
+surplus-labour may be large in a small total working-day, and relatively small in a large total 
+working-day. If the necessary labour-time=3 and the surplus-labour=3, then the total working-day=6 and 
+the rate of surplus-labour=100%. If the necessary labour=9 and the surplus-labour=3, then the total 
+working-day=12 and the rate of surplus-labour only=33 1/3 %. In that case, it depends upon the labour 
+productivity how much use-value shall be produced in a definite time, hence also in a definite surplus 
+labour-time. The actual wealth of society, and the possibility of constantly expanding its reproduction 
+process, therefore, do not depend upon the duration of surplus-labour, but upon its productivity and the 
+more or less copious conditions of production under which it is performed. In fact, the realm of freedom 
+actually begins only where labour which is determined by necessity and mundane considerations ceases; 
+thus in the very nature of things it lies beyond the sphere of actual material production. Just as the savage 
+must wrestle with Nature to satisfy his wants, to maintain and reproduce life, so must civilised man, and 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 48 
+
+he must do so in all social formations and under all possible modes of production. With his development 
+this realm of physical necessity expands as a result of his wants; but, at the same time, the forces of 
+production which satisfy these wants also increase. Freedom in this field can only consist in socialised 
+man, the associated producers, rationally regulating their interchange with Nature, bringing it under their 
+common control, instead of being ruled by it as by the blind forces of Nature; and achieving this with the 
+least expenditure of energy and under conditions most favourable to, and worthy of, their human nature. 
+But it nonetheless still remains a realm of necessity. Beyond it begins that development of human energy 
+which is an end in itself, the true realm of freedom, which, however, can blossom forth only with this 
+realm of necessity as its basis. The shortening of the working-day is its basic prerequisite. 
+
+In a capitalist society, this surplus-value, or this surplus-product (leaving aside chance fluctuations in its 
+distribution and considering only its regulating law, its standardising limits), is divided among capitalists 
+as dividends proportionate to the share of the social capital each holds. In this form surplus-value appears 
+as average profit which falls to the share of capital, an average profit which in turn divides into profit of 
+enterprise and interest, and which under these two categories may fall into the laps of different kinds of 
+capitalists. This appropriation and distribution of surplus-value, or surplus-product, on the part of capital, 
+however, has its barrier in landed property. Just as the operating capitalist pumps surplus-labour, and 
+thereby surplus value and surplus-product in the form of profit, out of the labourer, so the landlord in turn 
+pumps a portion of this surplus-value, or surplus-product, out of the capitalist in the form of rent in 
+accordance with the laws already elaborated. 
+
+Hence, when speaking here of profit as that portion of surplus-value falling to the share of capital, we 
+mean average profit (equal to profit of enterprise plus interest) which is already limited by the deduction 
+of rent from the aggregate profit (identical in mass with aggregate surplus- value); the deduction of rent is 
+assumed. Profit of capital (profit of enterprise plus interest) and ground-rent are thus no more than 
+particular components of surplus-value, categories by which surplus-value is differentiated depending on 
+whether it falls to the share of capital or landed property, headings which in no whit however alter its 
+nature. Added together, these form the sum of social surplus-value. Capital pumps the surplus-labour, 
+which is represented by surplus-value and surplus-product, directly out of the labourers. Thus, in this 
+sense, it may be regarded as the producer of surplus-value. Landed property has nothing to do with the 
+actual process of production. Its role is confined to transferring a portion of the produced surplus-value 
+from the pockets of capital to its own. However, the landlord plays a role in the capitalist process of 
+production not merely through the pressure he exerts upon capital, nor merely because large landed 
+property is a prerequisite and condition of capitalist production since it is a prerequisite and condition of 
+the expropriation of the labourer from the means of production, but particularly because he appears as the 
+personification of one of the most essential conditions of production. 
+
+Finally, the labourer in the capacity of owner and seller of his individual labour-power receives a portion 
+of the product under the label of wages, in which that portion of his labour appears which we call 
+necessary labour, i.e., that required for the maintenance and reproduction of this labour-power, be the 
+conditions of this maintenance and reproduction scanty or bountiful, favourable or unfavourable. 
+
+Whatever may be the disparity of these relations in other respects, they all have this in common: Capital 
+yields a profit year after year to the capitalist, land a ground-rent to the landlord, and labour-power, under 
+normal conditions and so long as it remains useful labour-power, a wage to the labourer. These three 
+portions of total value annually produced, and the corresponding portions of the annually created total 
+product (leaving aside for the present any consideration of accumulation), may be annually consumed by 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 48 
+
+their respective owners, without exhausting the source of their reproduction. They are like the annually 
+consumable fruits of a perennial tree, or rather three trees; they form the annual incomes of three classes, 
+capitalist, landowner and labourer, revenues distributed by the functioning capitalist in his capacity as 
+direct extorter of surplus-labour and employer of labour in general. This, capital appears to the capitalist, 
+land to the landlord, and labour-power, or rather labour itself, to the labourer (since he actually sells 
+labour-power only as it is manifested, and since the price of labour-power, as previously shown, 
+inevitably appears as the price of labour under the capitalist mode of production), as three different 
+sources of their specific revenues, namely, profit, ground-rent and wages. They are really so in the sense 
+that capital is a perennial pumping-machine of surplus-labour for the capitalist, land a perennial magnet 
+for the landlord, attracting a portion of the surplus-value pumped out by capital, and finally, labour the 
+constantly self -renewing condition and ever self -renewing means of acquiring under the title of wages a 
+portion of the value created by the labourer and thus a part of the social product measured by this portion 
+of value, i.e., the necessities of life. They are so, furthermore, in the sense that capital fixes a portion of 
+the value and thereby of the product of the annual labour in the form of profit; landed property fixes 
+another portion in the form of rent; and wage-labour fixes a third portion in the form of wages, and 
+precisely by this transformation converts them into revenues of the capitalist, landowner, and labourer, 
+without, however, creating the substance itself which is transformed into these various categories. The 
+distribution rather presupposes the existence of this substance, namely, the total value of the annual 
+product, which is nothing but materialised social labour. Nevertheless, it is not in this form that the 
+matter appears to the agents of production, the bearers of the various functions in the production process, 
+but rather in a distorted form. Why this takes place will be developed in the further course of our 
+analysis. Capital landed property and labour appear to those agents of production as three different, 
+independent sources, from which as such there arise three different components of the annually produced 
+value — and thereby the product in which it exists; thus, from which there arise not merely the different 
+forms of this value as revenues falling to the share of particular factors in the social process of 
+production, but from which this value itself arises, and thereby the substance of these forms of revenue. 
+
+[Here one folio sheet of the manuscript is missing.] 
+
+... Differential rent is bound up with the relative soil fertility, in other words, with properties arising from 
+the soil as such. But, in the first place, in so far as it is based upon the different individual values of the 
+products of different soil types, it is but the determination just mentioned; secondly, in so far as it is 
+based upon the regulating general market-value, which differs from these individual values, it is a social 
+law carried through by means of competition, which has to do neither with the soil nor the different 
+degrees of its fertility. 
+
+It might seem as if a rational relation were expressed at least in "labour — wages." But this is no more the 
+case than with "land — ground-rent." In so far as labour is value-creating, and is manifested in the value 
+of commodities, it has nothing to do with the distribution of this value among various categories. In so 
+far as it has the specifically social character of wage-labour, it is not value-creating. It has already been 
+shown in general that wages of labour, or price of labour, is but an irrational expression for the value, or 
+price of labour-power; and the specific social conditions, under which this labour-power is sold, have 
+nothing to do with labour as a general agent in production. Labour is also materialised in that value 
+component of a commodity which as wages forms the price of labour-power; it creates this portion just 
+as much as the other portions of the product; but it is materialised in this portion no more and no 
+differently than in the portions forming rent or profit. And, in general, when we establish labour as 
+value-creating, we do not consider it in its concrete form as a condition of production, but in its social 
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+
+delimitation which differs from that of wage-labour. 
+
+Even the expression "capital — profit" is incorrect here. If capital is viewed in the only relation in which 
+it produces surplus-value, namely, its relation to the labourer whereby it extorts surplus-labour by 
+compulsion exerted upon labour-power, i.e., the wage-labourer, then this surplus-value comprises, 
+outside of profit (profit of enterprise plus interest), also rent, in short the entire undivided surplus-value. 
+Here, on the other hand, as a source of revenue, it is placed only in relation to that portion falling to the 
+share of the capitalist. This is not the surplus-value which it extracts generally but only that portion 
+which it extracts for the capitalist. Still more does all connection vanish no sooner the formula is 
+transformed into "capital — interest." 
+
+If we at first considered the disparity of the above three sources, we now note that their products, their 
+offshoots, or revenues, on the other band, all belong to the same sphere, that of value. However, this is 
+compensated for (this relation not only between incommensurable magnitudes, but also between wholly 
+unlike, mutually unrelated, and non-comparable things) in that capital, like land and labour, is simply 
+considered as a material sub-stance, that is, simply as a produced means of production, and thus is 
+abstracted both as a relation to the labourer and as value. 
+
+Thirdly, if understood in this way, the formula, capital — interest (profit), land — rent, labour — wages, 
+presents a uniform and symmetrical incongruity. In fact, since wage-labour does not appear as a socially 
+determined form of labour, but rather all labour appears by its nature as wage-labour (thus appearing to 
+those in the grip of capitalist production relations), the definite specific social forms assumed by the 
+material conditions of labour — the produced means of production and the land — with respect to 
+wage-labour (just as they, in turn, conversely presuppose wage-labour), directly coincide with the 
+material existence of these conditions of labour or with the form possessed by them generally in the 
+actual labour-process, independent of its concrete historically determined social form, or indeed 
+independent of any social form. The changed form of the conditions of labour, i. e., alienated from labour 
+and confronting it independently, whereby the produced means of production are thus transformed into 
+capital, and the land into monopolised land, or landed property — this form belonging to a definite 
+historical period thereby coincides with the existence and function of the produced means of production 
+and of the land in the process of production in general. These means of production are in themselves 
+capital by nature; capital is merely an "economic appellation" for these means of production; and so, in 
+itself land is by nature the earth monopolised by a certain number of landowners. Just as products 
+confront the producer as an independent force in capital and capitalists — who actually are but the 
+personification of capital — so land becomes personified in the landlord and likewise gets on its hind legs 
+to demand, as an independent force, its share of the product created with its help. Thus, not the land 
+receives its due portion of the product for the restoration and improvement of its productivity, but instead 
+the landlord takes a share of this product to chaffer away or squander. It is clear that capital presupposes 
+labour as wage-labour. But it is just as clear that if labour as wage-labour is taken as the point of 
+departure, so that the identity of labour in general with wage-labour appears to be self-evident, then 
+capital and monopolised land must also appear as the natural form of the conditions of labour in relation 
+to labour in general. To be capital, then, appears as the natural form of the means of labour and thereby 
+as the purely real character arising from their function in the labour-process in general. Capital and 
+produced means of production thus become identical terms. Similarly, land and land monopolised 
+through private ownership become identical. The means of labour as such, which are by nature capital, 
+thus become the source of profit, much as the land as such becomes the source of rent. 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 48 
+
+Labour as such, in its simple capacity as purposive productive activity, relates to the means of 
+production, not in their social determinate form, but rather in their concrete substance, as material and 
+means of labour; the latter likewise are distinguished from one another merely materially, as use-values, 
+i.e., the land as unproduced, the others as produced, means of labour. If, then, labour coincides with 
+wage-labour, so does the particular social form in which the conditions of labour confront labour 
+coincide with their material existence. The means of labour as such are then capital, and the land as such 
+is landed property. The formal independence of these conditions of labour in relation to labour, the 
+unique form of this independence with respect to wage-labour, is then a property inseparable from them 
+as things, as material conditions of production, an inherent, immanent, intrinsic character of them as 
+elements of production. Their definite social character in the process of capitalist production bearing the 
+stamp of a definite historical epoch is a natural, and intrinsic substantive character belonging to them, as 
+it were, from time immemorial, as elements of the production process. Therefore, the respective part 
+played by the earth as the original field of activity of labour, as the realm of forces of Nature, as the 
+pre-existing arsenal of all objects of labour, and the other respective part played by the produced means 
+of production (instruments, raw materials, etc.) in the general process of production, must seem to he 
+expressed in the respective shares claimed by them as capital and landed property, i.e., which fall to the 
+share of their social representatives in the form of profit (interest) and rent, like to the labourer — the part 
+his labour plays in the process of production is expressed in wages. Rent, profit and wages thus seem to 
+grow out of the role played by the land, produced means of production, and labour in the simple 
+labour-process, even when we consider this labour-process as one carried on merely between man and 
+Nature, leaving aside any historical determination. It is merely the same thing again, in another form, 
+when it is argued: the product in which a wage-labourer's labour for himself is manifested, his proceeds 
+or revenue, is simply wages, the portion of value (and thereby the social product measured by this value) 
+which his wages represent. Thus, if wage-labour coincides with labour generally, then so do wages with 
+the produce of labour, and the value portion representing wages with the value created by labour 
+generally. But in this way the other portions of value, profit and rent also appear independent with 
+respect to wages, and must arise from sources of their own, which are specifically different and 
+independent of labour; they must arise from the participating elements of production, to the share of 
+whose owners they fall; i.e., profit arises from the means of production, the material elements of capital, 
+and rent arises from the land, or Nature, as represented by the landlord (Roscher). [Roscher, System der 
+Volkswirschaft, Band I, Die Grundlagen der Nalionalokonomie, Stuttgart und Augsburg, 1858. - Ed.] 
+
+Landed property, capital and wage-labour are thus transformed from sources of revenue — in the sense 
+that capital attracts to the capitalist, in the form of profit, a portion of the surplus-value extracted by him 
+from labour, that monopoly in land attracts for the landlord another portion in the form of rent; and that 
+labour grants the labourer the remaining portion of value in the form of wages — from sources by means 
+of which one portion of value is transformed into the form of profit, another into the form of rent, and a 
+third into the form of wages — into actual sources from which these value portions and respective 
+portions of the product in which they exist, or for which they are exchangeable, arise themselves, and 
+from which, therefore, in the final analysis, the value of the product itself arises. T501 
+
+In the case of the simplest categories of the capitalist mode of production, and even of 
+commodity-production, in the case of commodities and money, we have already pointed out the 
+mystifying character that transforms the social relations, for which the material elements of wealth serve 
+as bearers in production, into properties of these things themselves (commodities) and still more 
+pronouncedly transforms the production relation itself into a thing (money). All forms of society, in so 
+
+
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+
+far as they reach the stage of commodity-production and money circulation, take part in this perversion. 
+But under the capitalist mode of production and in the case of capital, which forms its dominant 
+category, its determining production relation, this enchanted and perverted world develops still more. If 
+one considers capital, to begin with, in the actual process of production as a means of extracting 
+surplus-labour, then this relationship is still very simple, and the actual connection impresses itself upon 
+the bearers of this process, the capitalists themselves, and remains in their consciousness. The violent 
+struggle over the limits of the working-day demonstrates this strikingly. But even within this 
+non-mediated sphere, the sphere of direct action between labour and capital, matters do not rest in this 
+simplicity. With the development of relative surplus-value in the actual specifically capitalist mode of 
+production, whereby the productive powers of social labour are developed, these productive powers and 
+the social interrelations of labour in the direct labour-process seem transferred from labour to capital. 
+Capital thus becomes a very mystic being since all of labour' s social productive forces appear to be due 
+to capital, rather than labour as such, and seem to issue from the womb of capital itself. Then the process 
+of circulation intervenes, with its changes of substance and form, on which all parts of capital, even 
+agricultural capital, devolve to the same degree that the specifically capitalist mode of production 
+develops. This is a sphere where the relations under which value is originally produced are pushed 
+completely into the background. In the direct process of production the capitalist already acts 
+simultaneously as producer of commodities and manager of commodity-production. Hence this process 
+of production appears to him by no means simply as a process of producing surplus-value. But whatever 
+may be the surplus-value extorted by capital in the actual production process and appearing in 
+commodities, the value and surplus-value contained in the commodities must first be realised in the 
+circulation process. And both the restitution of the values advanced in production and, particularly, the 
+surplus-value contained in the commodities seem not merely to be realised in the circulation, but actually 
+to arise from it; an appearance which is especially reinforced by two circumstances: first, the profit made 
+in selling depends on cheating, deceit, inside knowledge, skill and a thousand favourable market 
+opportunities; and then by the circumstance that added here to labour-time is a second determining 
+element — time of circulation. This acts, in fact, only as a negative barrier against the formation of value 
+and surplus-value, but it has the appearance of being as definite a basis as labour itself and of introducing 
+a determining element that is independent of labour and resulting from the nature of capital. In Book II 
+we naturally bad to present this sphere of circulation merely with reference to the form determinations 
+which it created and to demonstrate the further development of the structure of capital taking place in this 
+sphere. But in reality this sphere is the sphere of competition, which, considered in each individual case, 
+is dominated by chance; where, then, the inner law, which prevails in these accidents and regulates them, 
+is only visible when these accidents are grouped together in large numbers, where it remains, therefore, 
+invisible and unintelligible to the individual agents in production. But furthermore: the actual process of 
+production, as a unity of the direct production process and the circulation process, gives rise to new 
+formations, in which the vein of internal connections is increasingly lost, the production relations are 
+rendered independent of one another, and the component values become ossified into forms independent 
+of one another. 
+
+The conversion of surplus-value into profit, as we have seen, is determined as much by the process of 
+circulation as by the process of production. Surplus-value, in the form of profit, is no longer related back 
+to that portion of capital invested in labour from which it arises, but to the total capital. The rate of profit 
+is regulated by laws of its own, which permit, or even require, it to change while the rate of surplus-value 
+remains unaltered. All this obscures more and more the true nature of surplus-value and thus the actual 
+mechanism of capital. Still more is this achieved through the transformation of profit into average profit 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 48 
+
+and of values into prices of production, into the regulating averages of market-prices. A complicated 
+social process intervenes here, the equalisation process of capitals, which divorces the relative average 
+prices of the commodities from their values, as well as the average profits in the various spheres of 
+production (quite aside from the individual investments of capital in each particular sphere of production) 
+from the actual exploitation of labour by the particular capitals. Not only does it appear so, but it is true 
+in fact that the average price of commodities differs from their value, thus from the labour realised in 
+them, and the average profit of a particular capital differs from the surplus-value which this capital has 
+extracted from the labourers employed by it. The value of commodities appears, directly, solely in the 
+influence of fluctuating productivity of labour upon the rise and fall of the prices of production, upon 
+their movement and not upon their ultimate limits. Profit seems to be determined only secondarily by 
+direct exploitation of labour, in so far as the latter permits the capitalist to realise a profit deviating from 
+the average profit at the regulating market-prices, which apparently prevail independent of such 
+exploitation. Normal average profits themselves seem immanent in capital and independent of 
+exploitation; abnormal exploitation, or even average exploitation under favourable, exceptional 
+conditions, seems to determine only the deviations from average profit, not this profit itself. The division 
+of profit into profit of enterprise and interest (not to mention the intervention of commercial profit and 
+profit from money-dealing, which are founded upon circulation and appear to arise completely from it, 
+and not from the process of production itself) consummates the individualisation of the form of 
+surplus-value, the ossification of its form as opposed to its substance, its essence. One portion of profit, 
+as opposed to the other, separates itself entirely from the relationship of capital as such and appears as 
+arising not out of the function of exploiting wage-labour, but out of the wage-labour of the capitalist 
+himself. In contrast thereto, interest then seems to be independent both of the labourer' s wage-labour and 
+the capitalist's own labour, and to arise from capital as its own independent source. If capital originally 
+appeared on the surface of circulation as a fetishism of capital, as a value-creating value, so it now 
+appears again in the form of interest-bearing capital, as in its most estranged and characteristic form. 
+Wherefore also the formula capital — interest, as the third to land — rent and labour — wages, is much 
+more consistent than capital — profit, since in profit there still remains a recollection of its origin, which 
+is not only extinguished in interest, but is also placed in a form thoroughly antithetical to this origin. 
+
+Finally, capital as an independent source of surplus-value is joined by landed property, which acts as a 
+barrier to average profit and transfers a portion of surplus-value to a class that neither works itself, nor 
+directly exploits labour, nor can find morally edifying rationalisations, as in the case of interest-bearing 
+capital, e.g., risk and sacrifice of lending capital to others. Since here a part of the surplus-value seems to 
+be bound up directly with a natural element, the land, rather than with social relations, the form of mutual 
+estrangement and ossification of the various parts of surplus-value is completed, the inner connection 
+completely disrupted, and its source entirely buried, precisely because the relations of production, which 
+are bound to the various material elements of the production process, have been rendered mutually 
+independent. 
+
+In capital — profit, or still better capital — interest, land — rent, labour — wages, in this economic trinity 
+represented as the connection between the component parts of value and wealth in general and its 
+sources, we have the complete mystification of the capitalist mode of production, the conversion of 
+social relations into things, the direct coalescence of the material production relations with their historical 
+and social determination. It is an enchanted, perverted, topsy-turvy world, in which Monsieur le Capital 
+and Madame la Terre do their ghost-walking as social characters and at the same time directly as mere 
+things. It is the great merit of classical economy to have destroyed this false appearance and illusion, this 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 48 
+
+mutual independence and ossification of the various social elements of wealth, this personification of 
+things and conversion of production relations into entities, this religion of everyday life. It did so by 
+reducing interest to a portion of profit, and rent to the surplus above average profit, so that both of them 
+converge in surplus-value; and by representing the process of circulation as a mere metamorphosis of 
+forms, and finally reducing value and surplus-value of commodities to labour in the direct production 
+process. Nevertheless even the best spokesmen of classical economy remain more or less in the grip of 
+the world of illusion which their criticism had dissolved, as cannot be otherwise from a bourgeois 
+standpoint, and thus they all fall more or less into inconsistencies, half-truths and unsolved 
+contradictions. On the other hand, it is just as natural for the actual agents of production to feel 
+completely at home in these estranged and irrational forms of capital — interest, land — rent, labour — 
+wages, since these are precisely the forms of illusion in which they move about and find their daily 
+occupation. It is therefore just as natural that vulgar economy, which is no more than a didactic, more or 
+less dogmatic, translation of everyday conceptions of the actual agents of production, and which arranges 
+them in a certain rational order, should see precisely in this trinity, which is devoid of all inner 
+connection, the natural and indubitable lofty basis for its shallow pompousness. This formula 
+simultaneously corresponds to the interests of the ruling classes by proclaiming the physical necessity 
+and eternal justification of their sources of revenue and elevating them to a dogma. 
+
+In our description of how production relations are converted into entities and rendered independent in 
+relation to the agents of production, we leave aside the manner in which the interrelations, due to the 
+world-market, its conjunctures, movements of market-prices, periods of credit, industrial and commercial 
+cycles, alternations of prosperity and crisis, appear to them as overwhelming natural laws that irresistibly 
+enforce their will over them, and confront them as blind necessity. We leave this aside because the actual 
+movement of competition belongs beyond our scope, and we need present only the inner organisation of 
+the capitalist mode of production, in its ideal average, as it were. 
+
+In preceding forms of society this economic mystification arose principally with respect to money and 
+interest-bearing capital. In the nature of things it is excluded, in the first place, where production for the 
+use-value, for immediate personal requirements, predominates; and, secondly, where slavery or serfdom 
+form the broad foundation of social production, as in antiquity and during the Middle Ages. Here, the 
+domination of the producers by the conditions of production is concealed by the relations of dominion 
+and servitude, which appear and are evident as the direct motive power of the process of production. In 
+early communal societies in which primitive communism prevailed, and even in the ancient communal 
+towns, it was this communal society itself with its conditions which appeared as the basis of production, 
+and its reproduction appeared as its ultimate purpose. Even in the medieval guild system neither capital 
+nor labour appear untrammelled, but their relations are rather defined by the corporate rules, and by the 
+same associated relations, and corresponding conceptions of professional duty, craftsmanship, etc. Only 
+when the capitalist mode of production — [The manuscript breaks off here — Ed.] 
+
+Footnotes 
+
+f481 The following three fragments were found in different parts of the manuscript for Part VI. — F. E. 
+
+f491 Beginning of Chapter XL VIII according to the manuscript. — F. E. 
+
+[501 Wages, profit, and rent are the three original sources of all revenue, as well as of all exchangeable 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 48 
+
+value (A. Smith) [An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations, Aberdeen, London, 
+1848, S. 43. — Ed.] — It is thus that the causes of material production are at the same time the sources of 
+the original revenues which exist. (Storch [Cours d'economie politique, St.-Petersbourg, 1815. -- Ed.], I, 
+p. 259. -- Ed.) 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 49 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 49 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Part VII 
+
+REVENUES AND THEIR SOURCES 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 49 
+
+Concerning the Analysis of the Process of 
+Production 
+
+
+
+For the purposes of the following analysis we may leave out of consideration the distinction between 
+price of production and value, since this distinction disappears altogether when, as here, the value of the 
+total annual product of labour is considered, i.e., the product of the total social capital. 
+
+Profit (profit of enterprise plus interest) and rent are nothing but peculiar forms assumed by particular 
+parts of the surplus-value of commodities. The magnitude of surplus-value is the limit of the total size of 
+the parts into which it may be divided. Average profit plus rent are, therefore, equal to the surplus-value. 
+It is possible for part of the surplus-labour, and thus surplus-value, contained in the commodities, not to 
+take part directly in the equalisation of an average profit, so that part of the commodity-value is not 
+expressed at all in its price. But first, this is balanced either by the fact that the rate of profit increases, 
+when the commodities sold below their value form an element of the constant capital, or by profit and 
+rent being represented by a larger product, when commodities sold below their value enter into the 
+portion of value consumed as revenue in the form of articles for individual consumption. Secondly, this 
+is eliminated in the average movement. At any rate, even if a portion of surplus-value not expressed in 
+the price of the commodity is lost for the price formation, the sum of average profit plus rent in its 
+normal form can never be larger than the total surplus-value, although it may be smaller. Its normal form 
+presupposes wages corresponding to the value of labour-power. Even monopoly rent, in so far as it is not 
+a deduction from wages, i.e., does not constitute a special category, must always indirectly be a part of 
+the surplus-value, if it is not part of the price excess above the price of production of the commodity 
+itself, of which it is a constituent part (as in differential rent), or an excess portion of the surplus-value of 
+the commodity itself, of which it is a constituent part, above that portion of its own surplus-value 
+measured by the average profit (as in absolute rent), it is at least part of the surplus-value of other 
+commodities, i.e., of commodities which are exchanged for this commodity having a monopoly price. 
+The sum of average profit plus ground-rent can never be greater than the magnitude of which they are 
+components and which exists before this division. It is therefore immaterial for our discussion whether 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 49 
+
+the entire surplus-value of the commodities, i.e., all the surplus-labour contained in the commodities, is 
+realised in their price or not. The surplus-labour is not entirely realised if only for the reason that due to a 
+continual change in the amount of labour socially necessary to produce a certain commodity, resulting 
+from the constant change in the productiveness of labour, some commodities are always produced under 
+abnormal conditions and must, therefore, be sold below their individual value. At any rate, profit plus 
+rent equal the total realised surplus-value (surplus-labour), and for purposes of this discussion the 
+realised surplus-value may be equated to all surplus- value; for profit and rent are realised surplus-value, 
+or, generally speaking, the surplus-value which passes into the prices of commodities, thus in practice all 
+the surplus-value forming a constituent part of this price. 
+
+On the other hand, wages, which form the third specific form of revenue, are always equal to the variable 
+component part of capital, i.e., the component part which is laid out in purchasing living labour-power, 
+paying labourers rather than in means of labour. (The labour which is paid in the expenditure of revenue 
+is itself paid in wages, profit, or rent, and therefore does not form any value portion of commodities by 
+which it is paid. Hence it is not considered in the analysis of commodity-value and of the component 
+parts into which it is divided.) It is the materialisation of that portion of the total working-day of the 
+labourer in which the value of variable capital and thus the price of labour is reproduced; that portion of 
+commodity-value in which the labourer reproduces the value of his own labour-power, or the price of his 
+labour. The total working-day of the labourer is divided into two parts. One portion in which he performs 
+the amount of labour necessary to reproduce the value of his own means of subsistence; the paid portion 
+of his total labour, the portion necessary for his own maintenance and reproduction. The entire remaining 
+portion of the working-day, the entire excess quantity of labour performed above the value of the labour 
+realised in his wages, is surplus-labour, unpaid labour, represented in the surplus-value of his total 
+commodity-production (and thus in an excess quantity of commodities), surplus-value which in turn is 
+divided into differently named parts, into profit (profit of enterprise plus interest) and rent. 
+
+The entire value portion of commodities, then, in which the total labour of the labourers added during 
+one day, or one year, is realised, the total value of the annual product, created by this labour, is divided 
+into the value of wages, into profit and into rent. For this total labour is divided into necessary labour, by 
+which the labourer creates that value portion of the product with which he is himself paid, that is, his 
+wages, and into unpaid surplus-labour, by which he creates that value portion of the product which 
+represents surplus-value and which is later divided into profit and rent. Aside from this labour, the 
+labourer performs no labour, and aside from the total value of the product, which assumes the forms of 
+wages, profit and rent, he creates no value. The value of the annual product, in which the new labour 
+added by the labourer during the year is incorporated, is equal to the wage, or the value of the variable 
+capital plus the surplus-value, which in turn is divided into profit and rent. 
+
+The entire value portion of the annual product, then, which the labourer creates in the course of the year, 
+is expressed in the annual value sum of the three revenues, the value of wages, profit, and rent. 
+Evidently, therefore, the value of the constant portion of capital is not reproduced in the annually created 
+value of product, for the wages are only equal to the value of the variable portion of capital advanced in 
+production, and rent and profit are only equal to the surplus-value, the excess of value produced above 
+the total value of advanced capital, which equals the value of the constant capital plus the value of the 
+variable capital. 
+
+It is completely irrelevant to the problem to be solved here that a portion of the surplus-value converted 
+into the form of profit and rent is not consumed as revenue, but is accumulated. That portion which is 
+
+
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+
+saved up as an accumulation fund serves to create new, additional capital, but not to replace the old 
+capital, be it the component part of old capital laid out for labour-power or for means of labour. We may 
+therefore assume here, for the sake of simplicity, that the revenue passes wholly into individual 
+consumption. The difficulty is two-fold. On the one hand the value of the annual product, in which the 
+revenues, wages, profit and rent, are consumed, contains a portion of value equal to the portion of value 
+of constant capital used up in it. It contains this portion of value in addition to that portion which resolves 
+itself into wages and that which resolves itself into profit and rent. Its value is 
+
+therefore=wages+profit+rent+C (its constant portion of value). How can an annually produced value, 
+which only =wages+profit+rent, buy a product the value of which=(wages+profit+rent)+C? How can the 
+annually produced value buy a product which has a higher value than its own? 
+
+On the other hand, if we leave aside that portion of constant capital which did not pass over into the 
+product, and which therefore continues to exist, although with reduced value, as before the annual 
+production of commodities; in other words, temporarily leaving out of consideration the employed, but 
+not consumed, fixed capital, then the constant portion of advanced capital is seen to have been wholly 
+transferred to the new product in the form of raw and auxiliary materials, whereas a part of the means of 
+labour has been wholly consumed and another part only partially, and thus only a part of its value has 
+been consumed in production. This entire portion of constant capital consumed in production must be 
+replaced in kind. Assuming all other circumstances, particularly the productive power of labour, to 
+remain unchanged, this portion requires the same amount of labour for its replacement as before, i.e., it 
+must be replaced by an equivalent value. If not, then reproduction itself cannot take place on the former 
+scale. But who is obliged to perform this labour, and who does perform it? 
+
+As to the first difficulty: Who is obliged to pay for the constant portion of value contained in the product, 
+and with what? — It is assumed that the value of constant capital consumed in production reappears as a 
+part of the value of the product. This does not contradict the assumptions of the second difficulty. For it 
+has already been demonstrated in Book I (Kap. V) [English edition: Ch. Yll.-Ed.] ("The Labour Process 
+and the Process of Producing Surplus-Value") how the old value remains simultaneously preserved in the 
+product through the mere addition of new labour, although this does not reproduce the old value and does 
+no more than add to it, creates merely additional value; but that this results from labour, not in so far as it 
+is value-creating, i.e., labour in general, but in its function as definite productive labour. Therefore, no 
+additional labour was necessary to preserve the value of the constant portion in the product in which the 
+revenue, i.e., the entire value created during the year, is expended. But to be sure, new additional labour 
+is required to replace the value and use-value of constant capital consumed during the preceding year, 
+without the replacement of which no reproduction at all is possible. 
+
+All newly added labour is represented in the value newly created during the year, and this in turn is 
+divided into the three revenues: wages, profit and rent. — Thus, on the one hand, no excess social labour 
+remains for the replacement of the consumed constant capital, which must be replaced partially in kind 
+and according to its value, and partially merely according to its value (for pure wear and tear on fixed 
+capital). On the other hand, the value annually created by labour, divided into wages, profit and rent, and 
+to be expended in this form, appears not to suffice to pay for, or buy, the constant portion of capital, 
+which must be contained, outside their own value, in the annual product. 
+
+It is seen that the problem presented here has already been solved in the consideration of reproduction of 
+the total social capital — Book II, Part III. We return to it here, in the first place, because surplus-value 
+had not been developed there in its revenue forms: profit (profit of enterprise plus interest) and rent, and 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 49 
+
+could not, therefore, be treated in these forms; and then, also because precisely in the form of wages, 
+profit and rent there is contained an incredible blunder in analysis, which pervades all political economy 
+since Adam Smith. 
+
+We divided all capital there into two big classes: Class I, producing means of production, and Class II, 
+producing articles of individual consumption. The fact that certain products may serve equally well both 
+for personal consumption and as means of production (a horse, grain, etc.) does not invalidate the 
+absolute correctness of this division in any way. It is actually no hypothesis, but merely an expression of 
+fact. Take the annual product of a country. One portion of the product, whatever its ability to serve as 
+means of production, passes over into individual consumption. It is the product for which wages, profit 
+and rent are expended. This product is the product of a definite department of the social capital. It is 
+possible that this same capital may also produce products belonging to Class I. In so far as it does so, it is 
+not the portion of this capital consumed in the products of Class II, products belonging actually to 
+individual consumption, which supplies the productively consumed products belonging to Class I. This 
+entire product II, which passes into individual consumption, and for which therefore the revenue is spent, 
+is the existent form of the capital consumed in it plus the produced surplus. It is thus the product of a 
+capital invested solely in the production of articles of consumption. And in the same way Department I of 
+the annual product, which serves as means of reproduction — raw materials and instruments of labour - 
+whatever capacity this product may otherwise possess naturaliter to serve as means of consumption, is 
+the product of a capital invested solely in the production of means of production. By far the greater part 
+of products forming constant capital exists also materially in a form in which it cannot pass into 
+individual consumption. In so far as this could be done, e.g., in so far as a farmer could eat his seed-corn, 
+butcher his draught animals, etc., the economic barrier works the same for him as if this portion did not 
+exist in consumable form. 
+
+As already indicated, we leave out of consideration in both classes the fixed portion of constant capital, 
+which continues to exist in kind and, so far as its value is concerned, independently of the annual product 
+of both classes. 
+
+In Class II, for the products of which wages, profit and rent are expended, in short, the revenues 
+consumed, the product itself consists of three components so far as its value is concerned. One 
+component is equal to the value of the constant portion of capital consumed in production; a second 
+component is equal to the value of the variable advanced capital laid out in wages; finally, a third 
+component is equal to the produced surplus-value, thus=profit+rent. The first component of the product 
+of Class II, the value of the constant portion of capital, can be consumed neither by the capitalists of 
+Class II, nor by the labourers of this class, nor by the landowners. It forms no part of their revenues, but 
+must be replaced in kind and must be sold for this to occur. On the other hand, the other two components 
+of this product are equal to the value of the revenues created in this class, =wages+profit+rent. In Class I 
+the product consists of the same constituents, as regards form. But that part which here forms revenue, 
+wages+profit+rent, in short, the variable portion of capital+surplus-value, is not consumed here in the 
+natural form of products of this Class I, but in products of Class II. The value of the revenues of Class I 
+must, therefore, be consumed in that portion of products of Class II which forms the constant capital of II 
+to be replaced. The portion of the product of Class II which must replace its constant capital is consumed 
+in its natural form by the labourers, capitalists and landlords of Class I. They spend their revenue for this 
+product of II. On the other hand, the product of I, to the extent that it represents a revenue of Class I, is 
+productively consumed in its natural form by Class II, whose constant capital it replaces in kind. Finally, 
+the used-up constant portion of capital of Class I is replaced out of the very products of this class, which 
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+
+consist precisely of means of labour, raw and auxiliary materials, etc., partly through exchange by 
+capitalists of I among themselves, partly so that some of these capitalists can directly use their own 
+product once more as means of production. 
+
+Let us take the previous scheme (Book II, Chapter XX, II) for simple reproduction: 
+
+I. 4,000c + 1 ,000v + 1 ,000s =6,000 
+
+II. 2,000c + 500v + 500s = 3,000 l_ ' 
+
+According to this, the producers and landlords of II consume 500v+500s =1,000 as revenue; 2.000c 
+remains to be replaced. This is consumed by the labourers, capitalists and those who draw rent from I, 
+whose income=l,000v+ 1,000s =2,000. The consumed product of II is consumed as revenue by I, and the 
+portion of the revenue of I representing an unconsumable product is consumed as constant capital by II. 
+It remains then to account for the 4,000c of I. This is replaced out of the product of I itself, which=6,000, 
+or rather=6,000-2,000; for these 2,000 have already been converted into constant capital for II. It should 
+be noted, of course, that these numbers have been chosen arbitrarily, and so the relation between the 
+value of the revenues of I and the value of the constant capital of II appears arbitrary. It is evident, 
+however, that so far as the process of reproduction is normal and takes place under otherwise equal 
+circumstances, i.e., leaving aside the accumulation, the sum of the values of wages, profit and rent in 
+Class I must equal the value of the constant portion of capital of Class II. Otherwise either Class II will 
+not be able to replace its constant capital, or Class I will not be able to convert its revenue from 
+unconsumable into consumable form. 
+
+Thus, the value, of the annual commodity-product, just like the value of the commodity-product 
+produced by some particular investment of capital, and like the value of any individual commodity, 
+resolves itself into two component parts: A, which replaces the value of the advanced constant capital, 
+and B, which is represented in the form of revenue- wages, profit and rent. The latter component part of 
+value, B, is counterposed to the former A, in so far as A, under otherwise equal circumstances: 1) never 
+assumes the form of revenue and 2) always flows back in the form of capital, and indeed constant capital. 
+The other component, B, however, carries within itself, in turn, an antithesis. Profit and rent have this in 
+common with wages: all three are forms of revenue. Nevertheless they differ essentially in that profit and 
+rent represent surplus-value, i.e., unpaid labour, whereas wages represent paid labour. The portion of the 
+value of the product which represents wages expended thus replaces wages, and, under the conditions 
+assumed by us, where reproduction takes place on the same scale and under the same conditions, is again 
+reconverted into wages, flows back first as variable capital, as a component of the capital that must be 
+advanced anew for reproduction. This portion has a two-fold function. It exists first in the form of capital 
+and is exchanged as such for labour-power. In the hands of the labourer, it is transformed into revenue 
+which he draws out of the sale of his labour-power, is converted as revenue into means of subsistence 
+and consumed. This double process is revealed through the mediation of money circulation. The variable 
+capital is advanced in money, paid out as wages. This is its first function as capital. It is exchanged for 
+labour-power and transformed into the manifestation of this labour-power, into labour. This is the 
+process as regards the capitalist. Secondly, however: with this money the labourers buy a part of the 
+commodities produced by them, which is measured by this money, and is consumed by them as revenue. 
+If we imagine the circulation of money to be eliminated, then a part of the labourer' s product is in the 
+hands of the capitalist in the form of available capital. He advances this part as capital, gives it to the 
+labourer for new labour-power, while the labourer consumes it as revenue directly or indirectly through 
+exchange for other commodities. That portion of the value of the product, then, which is destined in the 
+
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+
+course of reproduction to be converted into wages, into revenue for the labourers, first flows back into 
+the hands of the capitalist in the form of capital, or more accurately variable capital. It is an essential 
+requirement that it should flow back in this form in order for labour as wage-labour, the means of 
+production as capital, and the process of production itself as a capitalist process, to be continually 
+reproduced anew. 
+
+In order to avoid unnecessary difficulty, one should distinguish gross output and net output from gross 
+income and net income. 
+
+The gross output, or gross product, is the total reproduced product. With the exception of the employed 
+but not consumed portion of fixed capital, the value of the gross output, or gross product, equals the 
+value of capital advanced and consumed in production, that is, constant and variable capital plus 
+surplus-value, which resolves itself into profit and rent. Or, if we consider the product of the total social 
+capital instead of that of an individual capital, the gross output equals the material elements forming the 
+constant and variable capital, plus the material elements of the surplus-product in which profit and rent 
+are represented. 
+
+The gross income is that portion of value and that portion of the gross product measured by it which 
+remains after deducting that portion of value and that portion of the product of total production measured 
+by it which replaces the constant capital advanced and consumed in production. The gross income, then, 
+is equal to wages (or the portion of the product destined to again become the income of the 
+labourer)+profit+rent. The net income, on the other hand, is the surplus-value, and thus the 
+surplus-product, which remains after deducting wages, and which, in fact, thus represents the 
+surplus-value realised by capital and to be divided with the landlord, and the surplus-product measured 
+by it. 
+
+Thus, we saw that the value of each individual commodity and the value of the total commodity-product 
+of each individual capital is divided into two parts: one replaces only constant capital, and the other, 
+although a fraction of it flows back as variable capital — thus also flows back in the form of capital — 
+nevertheless is destined to be wholly transformed into gross income, and to assume the form of wages, 
+profit and rent, the sum of which makes up the gross income. Furthermore, we saw that the same is true 
+of the value of the annual total product of a society. A difference between the product of the individual 
+capitalist and that of society exists only in so far as: from the standpoint of the individual capitalist the 
+net income differs from the gross income, for the latter includes the wages, whereas the former excludes 
+them. Viewing the income of the whole society, national income consists of wages plus profit plus rent, 
+thus, of the gross income. But even this is an abstraction to the extent that the entire society, on the basis 
+of capitalist production, bases itself on the capitalist standpoint and thereby considers only the income 
+resolved into profit and rent as net income. 
+
+On the other hand, the fantasy of men like Say, to the effect that the entire yield; the entire gross output, 
+resolves itself into the net income of the nation or cannot be distinguished from it, that this distinction 
+therefore disappears from the national viewpoint, is but the inevitable and ultimate expression of the 
+absurd dogma pervading political economy since Adam Smith, that in the final analysis the value of 
+commodities resolves itself completely into income, into wages, profit and rent. \5 11 
+
+To comprehend, in the case of each individual capitalist, that a portion of his product must be 
+transformed again into capital (even aside from the expansion of reproduction, or accumulation), indeed 
+not only into variable capital, which is destined to again become in its turn income for the labourers, thus 
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 49 
+
+a form of revenue, but also into constant capital, which can never be transformed into revenue — such 
+discernment is naturally extraordinarily easy. The simplest observation of the process of production 
+shows this clearly. The difficulty first begins as soon as the process of production is viewed as a whole. 
+The value of the entire portion of the product which is consumed as revenue in the form of wages, profit 
+and rent (it is entirely immaterial whether the consumption is individual or productive), indeed, 
+completely resolves itself under analysis into the sum of values consisting of wages plus profit plus rent, 
+that is, into the total value of the three revenues, although the value of this portion of the product, just 
+like that which does not enter into revenue, contains a value portion=C, equal to the value of the constant 
+capital contained in these portions, and thus prima facie cannot be limited by the value of the revenue. 
+This circumstance which, on the one hand, is a practically irrefutable fact, on the other hand, an equally 
+undeniable theoretical contradiction presents a difficulty which is most easily circumvented by the 
+assertion that commodity- value contains another portion of value, merely appearing to differ, from the 
+standpoint of the individual capitalist, from the portion existing in the form of revenue. The phrase: that 
+which appears as revenue for one constitutes capital for another, relieves one of the necessity for any 
+further reflection. But how, then, the old capital can be replaced when the value of the entire product is 
+consumable in the form of revenue; and how the value of the product of each individual capital can be 
+equal to the value sum of the three revenues plus C, constant capital, whereas the sum of the values of the 
+products of all capitals is equal to the value sum of the three revenues plus — this appears, of course, as 
+an insoluble riddle and must be solved by declaring that the analysis is completely incapable of 
+unravelling the simple elements of price, and must be content to go around in a vicious circle making a 
+spurious advance ad infinitum. Thus, that which appears as constant capital may be resolved into wages, 
+profit and rent, but the commodity-values in which wages, profit and rent appear, are determined in their 
+turn by wages, profit and rent, and so forth ad infinitum. f521 
+
+The fundamentally erroneous dogma to the effect that the value of commodities in the last analysis may 
+be resolved into wages+profit+rent also expresses itself in the proposition that the consumer must 
+ultimately pay for the total value of the total product; or also that the money circulation between 
+producers and consumers must ultimately be equal to the money circulation between the producers 
+themselves (Tooke); all these propositions are as false as the axiom upon which they are based. 
+
+The difficulties, which lead to this erroneous and prima facie absurd analysis, are briefly these: 
+
+1) The fundamental relationship of constant and variable capital, hence also the nature of surplus- value, 
+and thereby the entire basis of the capitalist mode of production, are not understood. The value of each 
+partial product of capital, each individual commodity, contains a portion of value=constant capital, a 
+portion of value=variable capital (transformed into wages for labourers), and a portion of 
+value=surprus-value (later split into profit and rent). Thus, how is it possible for the labourer with his 
+wages, the capitalist with his profit, the landlord with his rent, to be able to buy commodities, each of 
+which contains not only one of these constituent elements, but all three of them; and how is it possible 
+for the sum of the values of wages, profit and rent, that is, the three sources of revenue together, to be 
+able to buy the commodities which go to make up the total consumption of the recipients of these 
+incomes — commodities containing an additional component of value, namely constant capital, outside 
+these three components of value? How should they buy a value of four with a value of three? f531 
+
+We presented our analysis in Book II, Part III. 
+
+2) The method is not grasped whereby labour, in adding a new value, preserves the old value in a new 
+
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+
+form without producing this old value anew. 
+
+3) The pattern of the process of reproduction is not understood — how it appears not from the standpoint 
+of individual capital, but rather from that of the total capital; the difficulty is not understood how it is that 
+the product in which wages and surplus-value, in short, the entire value produced by all the labour newly 
+added during the year, is realised, replaces the constant part of its value and yet at the same time resolves 
+itself into value limited solely by the revenues; and furthermore how it is that the constant capital 
+consumed in production can be replaced in substance and value by new capital, although the total sum of 
+newly added labour is realised only in wages and surplus-value, and is fully represented in the sum of the 
+values of both. It is precisely here that the main difficulty lies, in the analysis of reproduction and the 
+relations of its various component parts, both as concerns their material character and their value 
+relationships. 
+
+4) To these difficulties is added still another, which increases even more as soon as the various 
+component parts of surplus-value appear in the form of mutually independent revenues. This difficulty 
+consists in the definite designations of revenue and capital interchanging, and altering their position, so 
+that they seem to be merely relative determinations from the point of view of the individual capitalist and 
+to disappear when the total process of production is viewed as a whole. For instance, the revenue of the 
+labourers and capitalists of Class I, which produces constant capital, replaces in value and substance the 
+constant capital of the capitalists of Class II, which produces articles of consumption. One may, 
+therefore, squeeze out of the dilemma by remonstrating that what is revenue for one is capital for another 
+and that these designations thus have nothing to do with the actual peculiarities of the value components 
+of commodities. Furthermore: commodities which are ultimately destined to form the substantive 
+elements of revenue expenditure, that is, articles of consumption, pass through various stages during the 
+year, e.g., woollen yarn, cloth. In one stage they form a portion of constant capital, in the other they are 
+consumed individually, and thus pass wholly into the revenue. One may therefore imagine along with 
+Adam Smith that constant capital is but an apparent element of commodity-value, which disappears in 
+the total pattern. Thus, a further exchange takes place of variable capital for revenue. The labourer buys 
+with his wages that portion of commodities which form his revenue. In this way he simultaneously 
+replaces for the capitalist the money-form of variable capital. Finally: one portion of products which 
+form constant capital is replaced in kind or through exchange by the producers of constant capital 
+themselves; a process with which the consumers have nothing to do. When this is overlooked the 
+impression is created that the revenue of consumers replaces the entire product, i.e., including the 
+constant portion of value. 
+
+5) Aside from the confusion which the transformation of values into prices of production brings about, 
+another arises due to the transformation of surplus-value into different, special, mutually independent 
+forms of revenue applying to the various elements of production, i.e., into profit and rent. It is forgotten 
+that the fact that the values of commodities are the basis, and that the division of these commodity- values 
+into distinct constituent parts, and the further development of these constituents of value into forms of 
+revenue, their transmutation into relations of various owners of different factors of production to these 
+individual components of value, their distribution among these owners according to definite categories 
+and titles, itself alters nothing in value determination and its law. Just as little is the law of value changed 
+by the circumstance that the equalisation of profit, i.e., the distribution of the total surplus-value among 
+the various capitals, and the obstacles which landed property partially (in absolute rent) puts in the way 
+of this equalisation, bring about a divergence between the regulating average prices and the individual 
+values of commodities. This again affects merely the addition of surplus-value to the various 
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+
+commodity-prices, but does not abolish surplus-value itself, nor the total value of commodities as the 
+source of these various component parts of price. 
+
+This is the quid pro quo which we shall consider in the next chapter, and which is inevitably linked with 
+the illusion that value arises out of its own component parts. And namely, the various component values 
+of the commodity acquire independent forms as revenues, and as such revenues they are related back to 
+the particular material elements of production as their sources of origin instead of to the value of the 
+commodity as their source. They are actually related back to those sources — however, not as 
+components of value, but rather as revenues, as components of value falling to the share of these 
+particular categories of agents in production: the labourer, the capitalist and the landlord. But then one 
+might fancy that these constituents of value, rather than arising out of the division of commodity-value, 
+conversely form it instead only through their combination, which leads to the pretty and vicious circle, 
+whereby the value of commodities arises out of the sum of the values of wages, profit and rent, and the 
+value of wages, profit and rent, in its turn, is determined by the value of commodities, etc. f541 
+
+Considering reproduction in its normal state, only a part of newly added labour is employed for 
+production, and thus for replacement of constant capital; precisely that part which replaces the constant 
+capital used up in the production of articles of consumption, of material elements of revenue. This is 
+balanced by the fact that this constant portion of Class II costs no additional labour. But, now, this 
+constant capital (looking upon the total process of reproduction, in which then the above-mentioned 
+equalisation of Classes I and II is included), not representing a product of newly added labour, although 
+this product could not be created without it — this constant capital, in the process of reproduction, 
+considered from the standpoint of substance, is exposed to certain accidents and dangers which could 
+decimate it. (Furthermore, however, considered from the point of view of value as well, it may be 
+depreciated through a change in the productiveness of labour; but this refers only to the individual 
+capitalist.) Accordingly, a portion of the profit, therefore of surplus-value and thereby also 
+surplus-product, in which (as concerns value) only newly added labour is represented, serves as an 
+insurance fund. And it matters not whether this insurance fund is managed by insurance companies as a 
+separate business or not. This is the sole portion of revenue which is neither consumed as such nor serves 
+necessarily as a fund for accumulation. Whether it actually serves as such, or covers merely a loss in 
+reproduction, depends upon chance. This is also the only portion of surplus-value and surplus-product, 
+and thus of surplus-labour, which would continue to exist, outside of that portion serving for 
+accumulation, and hence expansion of the process of reproduction, even after the abolition of the 
+capitalist mode of production. This, of course, presupposes that the portion regularly consumed by direct 
+producers does not remain limited to its present minimum. Apart from surplus-labour for those who on 
+account of age are not yet, or no longer, able to take part in production, all labour to support those who 
+do not work would cease. If we think back to the beginnings of society, we find no produced means of 
+production, hence no constant capital, the value of which could pass into the product, and which, in 
+reproduction on the same scale, would have to be replaced in kind out of the product and to a degree 
+measured by its value. But Nature there directly provides the means of subsistence, which need not first 
+be produced. Nature thereby also gives to the savage who has but few wants to satisfy the time, not to use 
+the as yet non-existent means of production in new production, but to transform, alongside the labour 
+required to appropriate naturally existing means of production, other products of Nature into means of 
+production: bows, stone knives, boats, etc. This process among savages, considered merely from the 
+substantive side, corresponds to the reconversion of surplus-labour into new capital. In the process of 
+accumulation, the conversion of such products of excess labour into capital obtains continually; and the 
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+
+circumstance that all new capital arises out of profit, rent, or other forms of revenue, i.e., out of 
+surplus-labour, leads to the mistaken idea that all value of commodities arises from some revenue. This 
+reconversion of profit into capital shows rather upon closer analysis that, conversely, the additional 
+labour — which is always represented in the form of revenue — does not serve for the maintenance, or 
+reproduction respectively, of the old capital value, but for the creation of new excess capital so far as it is 
+not consumed as revenue. 
+
+The whole difficulty arises from the fact that all newly added labour, in so far as the value created by it is 
+not resolved into wages, appears as profit — interpreted here as a form of surplus-value in general — i.e., 
+as a value which costs the capitalist nothing and which, of course, therefore does not have to replace for 
+him anything advanced, any capital whatever. This value thus exists in the form of available additional 
+wealth, in short, from the viewpoint of the individual capitalist, in the form of his revenue. But this newly 
+created value can just as well be consumed productively as individually, equally well as capital or 
+revenue. As a consequence of its natural form, some of it must be productively consumed. It is, therefore, 
+evident that the annually added labour creates capital as well as revenue; as becomes evident in the 
+process of accumulation. However, the portion of labour-power employed in the creation of new capital 
+(thus analogous to that portion of the working-day employed by a savage, not for acquiring subsistence, 
+but to fashion tools with which to acquire his subsistence) becomes invisible in that the entire product of 
+surplus-labour first appears in the form of profit; a designation which indeed has nothing to do with this 
+surplus-product itself, but refers merely to the individual relation of the capitalist to the surplus-value 
+pocketed by him. In fact, the surplus-value created by the labourer is divided into revenue and capital; 
+i.e., into articles of consumption and additional means of production. But former constant capital taken 
+over from the previous year (leaving aside the portion impaired and thus pro tanto destroyed, thus so far 
+as it does not have to be reproduced — and such disturbances in the process of reproduction fall under 
+insurance) is not reproduced as concerns value by the newly added labour. 
+
+We see, furthermore, that a portion of the newly added labour is continually absorbed in the reproduction 
+and replacement of consumed constant capital, although this newly added labour resolves itself solely 
+into revenue, into wages, profit and rent. But it is thereby overlooked 1) that one value portion of the 
+product of this labour is no product of this new additional labour, but rather pre-existing and consumed 
+constant capital; that the portion of the product in which this part of value appears is thus also not 
+transformed into revenue, but replaces the means of production of this constant capital in kind; 2) that the 
+portion of value in which this newly added labour actually appears is not consumed as revenue in kind, 
+but replaces the constant capital in another sphere, where it is transformed into a natural form, in which it 
+may be consumed as revenue, but which in its turn is again not entirely a product of newly added labour. 
+
+In so far as reproduction obtains on the same scale, every consumed element of constant capital must be 
+replaced in kind by a new specimen of the same kind, if not in quantity and form, then at least in 
+effectiveness. If the productiveness of labour remains the same, then this replacement in kind implies 
+replacing the same value which the constant capital had in its old form. But should the productiveness of 
+labour increase, so that the same material elements may be reproduced with less labour, then a smaller 
+portion of the value of the product can completely replace the constant part in kind. The excess may then 
+be employed to form new additional capital or a larger portion of the product may be given the form of 
+articles of consumption, or the surplus-labour may be reduced. On the other hand, should the 
+productiveness of labour decrease, then a larger portion of the product must be used for the replacement 
+of the former capital, and the surplus-product decreases. 
+
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+
+The reconversion of profit, or generally of any form of surplus-value, into capital shows — leaving aside 
+the historically defined economic form and considering it merely as the simple formation of new means 
+of production — that the situation still prevails whereby the labourer performs labour to produce means of 
+production beyond the labour for acquiring his immediate means of subsistence. Transformation of profit 
+into capital is no more than employing a portion of excess labour to form new, additional means of 
+production. That this takes place in the shape of a transformation of profit into capital signifies merely 
+that it is the capitalist rather than the labourer who disposes of excess labour. That this excess labour 
+must first pass through a stage in which it appears as revenue (whereas, e.g., in the case of a savage it 
+appears as excess labour directly destined for the production of means of production) means simply that 
+this labour, or its product, is appropriated by the non-worker. However, what is actually transformed into 
+capital is not profit as such. Transformation of surplus-value into capital signifies merely that the 
+surplus-value and surplus-product are not consumed individually as revenue by the capitalist. But, what 
+is actually so transformed is value, materialised labour, or the product in which this value is directly 
+manifested, or for which it is exchanged after having been previously transformed into money. And when 
+the profit is transformed back into capital, this definite form of surplus-value, or profit, does not form the 
+source of the new capital. The surplus-value is thereby merely changed from one form into another. But 
+it is not this change of form which turns it into capital. It is the commodity and its value which now 
+function as capital. However, that the value of the commodity is not paid for — and only by this means 
+does it become surplus-value — is quite irrelevant for the materialisation of labour, the value itself. 
+
+The misunderstanding is expressed in various forms. For instance, that the commodities which compose 
+the constant capital also contain elements of wages, profit and rent. Or, on the other hand, that what is 
+revenue for the one is capital for another, and that therefore these are but subjective relations. Thus the 
+yarn of the spinner contains a portion of value representing profit for him, Should the weaver buy the 
+yarn, he realises the profit of the spinner, but for himself this yarn is merely a part of his constant capital. 
+
+Aside from the previous remarks made concerning the relations between revenue and capital, the 
+following is to be noted: That which, as regards value, passes along with the yarn as a constituent 
+element into the capital of the weaver, is the value of the yarn. In what manner the parts of this value 
+have been resolved for the spinner himself into capital and revenue, or, in other words, into paid and 
+unpaid labour, is completely irrelevant for the value determination of the commodity itself (aside from 
+modifications through the average profit). Back of this still lurks the idea that the profit, or surplus-value 
+in general, is an excess above the value of the commodity, which can only be made by an extra charge, 
+mutual cheating, or gain through selling. When the price of production is paid, or even the value of the 
+commodity, the component values of the commodity which appear to the seller in the form of revenue 
+are naturally also paid. Monopoly prices, of course, are not referred to here. 
+
+Secondly, it is quite correct to say that the component parts of commodities which make up the constant 
+capital, like any other commodity-value, may be reduced to portions of value which resolve themselves 
+for the producers and the owners of the means of production into wages, profit and rent. This is merely a 
+capitalist form of expression for the fact that all commodity-value is but the measure of the socially 
+necessary labour contained in a commodity. But it has already been shown in Book I that this nowise 
+prevents the commodity-product of any capital from being split into separate parts, of which one 
+represents exclusively the constant portion of capital, another the variable portion of capital, and a third 
+solely surplus-value. 
+
+Storch expresses the opinion of many others when he says: "The saleable products which make up the 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 49 
+
+national revenue must be considered in political economy in two different ways: relative to individuals as 
+values, and relative to the nation as goods; for the revenue of a nation is not appraised, like that of an 
+individual, by its value, but by its utility or by the wants which it can satisfy." (Considerations sur le 
+revenu national, p. 19.) 
+
+In the first place, it is a false abstraction to regard a nation whose mode of production is based upon 
+value, and furthermore is capitalistically organised, as an aggregate body working merely for the 
+satisfaction of the national wants. 
+
+Secondly, after the abolition of the capitalist mode of production, but still retaining social production, the 
+determination of value continues to prevail in the sense that the regulation of labour-time and the 
+distribution of social labour among the various production groups, ultimately the book-keeping 
+encompassing all this, become more essential than ever. 
+
+Footnotes 
+
+[51] Ricardo makes the following very apt comment on thoughtless Say: "Of net produce and gross 
+produce, M. Say speaks as follows: 'The whole value produced is the gross produce; this value, after 
+deducting from it the cost of production, is the net produce.' (Vol. II, p. 491.) There can, then, be no net 
+produce, because the cost of production, according to M. Say, consists of rent, wages and profits. On 
+page 508 he says: 'The value of a product, the value of a productive service, the value of the cost of 
+production, are all, then, similar values, whenever things are left to their natural course.' Take a whole 
+from a whole, and nothing remains." (Ricardo, Principles, Chapter XXII, p.512, Note.) — By the way we 
+shall see later that Ricardo now refuted Smith's false analysis of commodity-price, its reduction to the 
+sum of the values of the revenues. He does not bother with it, and accepts its correctness so far in his 
+analysis that he "abstracts" from the constant portion of the value of commodities. He also falls back into 
+the same way of looking at things from time to time. 
+
+[521 "In every society the price of every commodity finally resolves itself into some one or other, or all 
+of those three parts [viz., wages, profits, rent].... A fourth part, it may perhaps be thought, is necessary for 
+replacing the stock of the farmer or for compensating the wear and tear of his labouring cattle, and other 
+instruments of husbandry. But it must be considered that the price of any instrument of husbandry, such 
+as a labouring horse, is itself made up of the same three parts: the rent of the land upon which he is 
+reared, the labour of tending and rearing him, and the profits of the farmer, who advances both the rent of 
+his land and the wages of his labour. Though the price of the corn, therefore, may pay the price as well as 
+the maintenance of the horse, the whole price still resolves itself either immediately or ultimately into the 
+same three parts of rent, labour [meaning wages] and profit." (Adam Smith.) — We shall show later on 
+how Adam Smith himself feels the inconsistency and insufficiency of this subterfuge, for it is nothing but 
+a subterfuge on his part to send us from Pontius to Pilate while nowhere does he indicate the real 
+investment of capital, in which case the price of the product resolves itself ultimately into these three 
+parts, without any further progressus. 
+
+[531 Proudhon exposes his inability to grasp this in the ignorant formulation: L'ouvrier ne peutpas 
+racheter son propre produit (the labourer cannot buy back his own product), because the interest which 
+is added to the prix-de-revient (cost-price) is contained in the product. But how does M. Eugene Forcade 
+teach him to know better? "If Proudhon' s objection were correct, it would strike not only the profits of 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 49 
+
+capital, but would eliminate the possibility even of industry. If the labourer is compelled to pay 100 for 
+each article for which he has received only 80, if his wages can buy back only the value which he has put 
+into a product, it could be said that the labourer cannot buy back anything, that wages cannot pay for 
+anything. In fact, there is always something more than the wages of the labourer contained in the 
+cost-price, and always more than the profits of enterprise in the selling price, for instance, the price of 
+raw materials, often paid to foreign countries.... Proudhon has forgotten about the continual growth of 
+national capital; he has forgotten that this growth refers to all labourers, whether in an enterprise or in 
+handicrafts." (Revue des deux Mondes, 1848, Tome 24, p. 998.) Here we have the optimism of bourgeois 
+thoughtlessness in the form of sagacity that most corresponds to it. M. Forcade first believes that the 
+labourer could not live did he not receive a higher value than that which he produces, whereas conversely 
+the capitalist mode of production could not exist were he really to receive all the value which he 
+produces. Secondly, he correctly generalises the difficulty, which Proudhon expressed only from a 
+narrow viewpoint. The price of commodities contains not only an excess over wages, but also over profit, 
+namely, the constant portion of value. According to Proudhon' s reasoning, then, the capitalist too could 
+not buy back the commodities with his profit. And how does Forcade solve this riddle? By means of a 
+meaningless phrase: the growth of capital. Thus the continual growth of capital is also supposed to be 
+substantiated, among other things, in that the analysis of commodity-prices, which is impossible for the 
+political economist as regards a capital of 100, becomes superfluous in the case of a capital of 10,000. 
+What would be said of a chemist, who, on being asked, How is it that the product of the soil contains 
+more carbon than the soil? would answer: It comes from the continual increase in agricultural production 
+The well-meaning desire to discover in the bourgeois world the best of all possible worlds replaces in 
+vulgar economy all need for love of truth and inclination for scientific investigation. 
+
+f541 "The circulating capital invested in materials, raw materials and finished goods is itself composed of 
+goods, the necessary price of which is formed of the same elements; so that, viewing the total goods in 
+one country, it would mean duplication to count this portion of circulating capital among the elements of 
+the necessary price." (Storch, Cours d'economie politique, II, p. 140.) — By these elements of circulating 
+capital Storch means the value of constant capital (fixed capital is merely circulating in a different form. 
+"It is true that the wages of the labourer, like that portion of profit of enterprise which consists of wages, 
+if we consider them as a part of the means of subsistence, also consist of goods bought at current prices 
+and which likewise comprise wages, interest on capital, ground-rent and profit of enterprise.... This 
+observation merely serves to prove that it is impossible to resolve the necessary price into its simplest 
+elements.', (ibid, Note.) — In his Considerations sur la nature du revenu national (Paris, 1824), Storch 
+indeed realises in his controversy with Say to what absurdity the erroneous analysis of commodity-value 
+leads — when it resolves value into mere revenues. He correctly points out the folly of such results — not 
+from the viewpoint of the individual capitalist, but from that of a nation — but himself goes no step 
+further in his analysis of the prix necessaire from that presented in his Cours, that it is impossible to 
+resolve it into its actual elements, without resolving it into a spurious advance ad infinitum. "It is evident 
+that the value of the annual product is divided partly into capitals and partly into profits, and that each 
+one of these portions of value of the annual product regularly goes to buy the products needed by the 
+nation, as much to preserve its capital as to renew its consumption fund (pp. 134, 135).... Can it (a 
+self-employed peasant family) live in its barns or stables, eat its seed and forage, clothe itself with its 
+draught cattle, dispense with its agricultural implements? According to the thesis of M. Say one must 
+answer all these questions in the affirmative (pp. 135, 136).... If it is admitted that the revenue of a nation 
+is equal to its gross product, i.e., if no capital has to be deducted from it, then it must also be admitted 
+that a nation can spend the entire value of its annual product unproductively without impairing its future 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 49 
+
+income in the least (147). The products which constitute the capital of a nation are not consumable' 
+(p. 150). 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 50 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 49 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Part VII 
+
+REVENUES AND THEIR SOURCES 
+
+
+
+Chapter 50 
+
+Illusions Created By Competition 
+
+
+
+It has been shown that the value of commodities, or the price of production regulated by their total value, 
+resolving itself into: 
+
+1) A portion of value replacing constant capital, or representing past labour, which was used up in the 
+form of means of production in making the commodity; in a word, the value, or price, which these means 
+of production carried into the production process of the commodities. We are not referring at all here to 
+individual commodities, but to commodity-capital, that is, the form in which the product of the capital 
+during a definite period of time, say a year, manifests itself; the individual commodity forms one element 
+of commodity-capital, which, moreover, so far as its value is concerned, resolves itself into the same 
+analogous constituents. 
+
+2) The portion of value representing variable capital, which measures the income of the labourer and is 
+transformed into wages for him; i.e., the labourer has reproduced these wages in this variable portion of 
+value; in short, the portion of value which represents the paid portion of new labour added to the above 
+constant portion in the production of the commodities. 
+
+3) Surplus-value, i.e., the portion of value of the produced commodities in which the unpaid labour, or 
+surplus-labour, is incorporated. This last portion of value, in its turn, assumes the independent forms 
+which are at the same time forms of revenue: the forms of profit on capital (interest on capital as such 
+and profit of enterprise on capital as functioning capital) and ground-rent, which is claimed by the owner 
+of the land participating in the production process. The components 2) and 3), that is, the portion of value 
+which always assumes the revenue forms of wages (of course only after the latter have first gone through 
+the form of variable capital), profit and rent, is distinguished from the constant component 1) by the fact 
+that in it is embodied that entire value in which the new additional labour added to the constant part, to 
+the means of production of the commodities, is materialised. Now, apart from the constant portion, it is 
+correct to say that the value of a commodity, i.e., to the extent that it represents newly added labour, 
+Continually resolves itself into three parts, which constitute three forms of revenue, namely, wages, 
+profit and rent, f551 the respective magnitudes of whose value, that is, the aliquot portions which they 
+
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+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 49 
+
+constitute in the total value, are determined by various specific laws developed above. But, it would be a 
+mistake to state the converse, namely, that the value of wages, rate of profit and rate of rent form 
+independent constituent elements of value, whose synthesis gives rise to the value of commodities, apart 
+from the constant component; in other words, it would be a mistake to say that they are constituent 
+elements of the value of commodities, or of the price of production. f561 
+
+The difference is easily seen. 
+
+Let us assume that the value of the product of a capital of 500 is equal to 400 c +100 v+150 s=650; let the 
+150 s in turn, be divided into 75 profit+75 rent. We will also assume, in order to forestall useless 
+difficulties, that this is a capital of average composition, so that its price of production and its value 
+coincide; this coincidence always takes place whenever the product of such an individual capital may be 
+considered as the product of some portion — corresponding to its magnitude — of the total capital. 
+
+Here wages, measured by variable capital, form 20% of the advanced capital; surplus-value, calculated 
+on the total capital, forms 30%, namely 15% profit and 15% rent. The entire value component of the 
+commodity representing the newly added labour is equal to 100 v+150 s=250. Its magnitude does not 
+depend upon its division into wages, profit and rent. We see from the relation of these parts to each other 
+that labour-power, which is paid with 100 in money, say £100, has supplied a quantity of labour 
+represented by money to the amount of £250. We see from this that the labourer performed 1 1/2 times as 
+much surplus-labour as he did labour for himself. If the working-day=10 hours, then he worked 4 hours 
+for himself and 6 hours for the capitalist. Therefore, the labour of the labourers paid with £100 is 
+expressed in a money-value of £250. Apart from this value of £250, there is nothing to divide between 
+labourer and capitalist, between capitalist and landlord. It is the total value newly added to the value of 
+the means of production, i.e., 400, The specific commodity-value of 250 thus produced and determined 
+by the quantity of labour materialised in it constitutes the limit, therefore, for the dividends which the 
+labourer, capitalist and landlord will be able to draw from this value in the form of revenue — wages, 
+profit and rent. 
+
+Let us assume that a capital of the same organic composition, that is, the same proportion between 
+employed living labour-power and constant capital set in motion, is compelled to pay £150 instead of 
+£100 for the same labour-power which sets in motion the constant capital of 400. And let us further 
+assume that profit and rent share in the surplus-value in different proportions. Since we have assumed 
+that the variable capital of £150 sets the same quantity of labour in motion as did the variable capital of 
+£100, the newly produced value would=250, as before, and the value of the total product would be 650, 
+also as before, but we would then have 400c+150v+100 s ; and these lOOswould divide, say, into 45 profit 
+and 55 rent. The proportion in which the newly produced total value would be distributed as wages, 
+profit and rent would now be very different; similarly, the magnitude of the advanced total capital would 
+be different, although it only sets the same total quantity of labour in motion. Wages would amount to 27 
+3/11%, profit — 8 2/11%, and rent — 10% of the advanced capital; thus, the total surplus-value would be 
+somewhat over 18%. 
+
+As a result of the increase in wages, the unpaid portion of total labour would be different and thereby the 
+surplus-value too. If the working-day contained 10 hours, the labourer would have worked 6 hours for 
+himself and only 4 hours for the capitalist. The proportions of profit and rent would also be different; the 
+reduced surplus-value would be divided in a different proportion between the capitalist and the landlord. 
+Finally, since the value of the constant capital would have remained the same and the value of the 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 49 
+
+advanced variable capital would have risen, the reduced surplus-value would express itself in a still more 
+reduced rate of gross profit, by which we mean in this case the ratio of the total surplus-value to the total 
+advanced capital. 
+
+The change in the value of wages, in the rate of profit, and in the rate of rent, whatever the effect of the 
+laws regulating the proportions of these parts to each other, could only move within the limits set by the 
+newly produced commodity- value of 250. An exception could only take place if rent should be based on 
+a monopoly price. This would nowise alter the law, but merely complicate the analysis. For if we 
+consider only the product itself in this case, then only the division of surplus-value would be different. 
+But if we consider its relative value as compared with other commodities, then we should find solely this 
+difference — that a portion of the surplus-value had been transferred from them to this particular 
+commodity. 
+
+To recapitulate: 
+
+
+
+Value of the Product 
+
+
+New 
+Value 
+
+
+Rate of 
+
+Surplus 
+
+Value 
+
+
+Rate of 
+Gross Profit 
+
+
+First Case: 
+
+
+400c+100v+1505=650 
+
+
+250 
+
+
+150% 
+
+
+30% 
+
+
+Second Case: 
+
+
+400c+150v+100s=650 
+
+
+250 
+
+
+66 2/3 
+
+
+18 2/11% 
+
+
+
+In the first place, the surplus-value falls one-third of what it was, i.e., from 150 to 100. The rate of profit 
+falls by a little more than one-third, i.e., from 30% to 18%, because the reduced surplus-value must be 
+calculated on an increased total advanced capital. But it by no means falls in the same proportion as the 
+rate of surplus-value. The latter falls from 150/100 to 100/150, that is, from 150% to 66 2/3%, whereas the 
+rate of profit only falls from 150/500 to 100/550, or from 30% to 18 2/11 %. The rate of profit, then, falls 
+proportionately more than the mass of surplus-value, but less than the rate of surplus-value. We find, 
+furthermore, that value, as well as mass of products, remains the same, so long as the same quantity of 
+labour is employed, although the advanced capital has increased due to the augmentation of its variable 
+component. This increase in advanced capital would indeed be very much felt by a capitalist undertaking 
+a new enterprise. But considering reproduction as a whole, augmentation of the variable capital merely 
+means that a larger portion of the value newly created by newly added labour is converted into wages, 
+and thus, in the first place, into variable capital instead of into surplus-value and surplus-product. The 
+value of the product thus remains the same, because it is limited on the one hand by the value of the 
+constant capital =400, and on the other by the number 250, in which the newly added labour is 
+represented. Both, however, remain unaltered. This product would, as before, represent the same amount 
+of use-value in the same magnitude of value, to the extent that it would itself again enter into the constant 
+capital; thus, the same mass of elements of constant capital would retain the same value. The matter 
+would be different if wages were to rise not because the labourer received a larger share of his own 
+labour, but if he received a larger portion of his own labour because the labour productivity had 
+decreased. In this case, the total value in which the same labour, paid and unpaid, would be incorporated, 
+would remain the same. But the mass of products in which this quantity of labour would be incorporated 
+would have decreased so that the price of each aliquot portion of this product would rise, because each 
+portion would contain more labour. The increased wages of 150 would not represent any more product 
+than the wages of 100 did before; the reduced surplus-value of 100 would represent merely 2/3 the former 
+product, i.e., 66 2/3 % of the mass of use-values formerly represented by 100. In this case, the constant 
+capital would also become dearer to the extent that this product would enter into it. However, this would 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 49 
+
+not be the result of the increase in wages, but rather the increase in wages would be a result of the 
+increase in the price of commodities and a result of the diminished productivity of the same quantity of 
+labour. It appears here as though the increase in wages had made the product dearer; however, this 
+increase is not the cause, but rather the result, of a change in the value of the commodities, due to the 
+decreased productivity of labour. 
+
+On the other hand, all other circumstances remaining the same, i.e., if the same quantity of employed 
+labour is still represented by 250, then, if the value of the means of production employed should rise or 
+fall, the value of the same quantity of products would rise or fall by the same magnitude. 450c +100v 
++150s gives a product- value=700; but 350c +100v +150s gives a value for the same quantity of products of 
+only 600, as against a former 650. Hence, if the advanced capital, set in motion by the same quantity of 
+labour, increases or decreases, then the value of the product rises or falls, other circumstances remaining 
+the same, if the increase or decrease in advanced capital is due to a change in the magnitude of the value 
+of the constant portion of capital. On the other hand, the value of the product remains unchanged if the 
+increase or decrease in advanced capital is caused by a change in the magnitude of the value of the 
+variable portion of capital, assuming the labour productivity remains the same. In the case of the constant 
+capital, the increase or decrease in its value is not compensated for by any opposite movement. But in the 
+case of the variable capital, assuming the labour productivity remains the same, an increase or decrease 
+in its value is compensated for by the opposite movement on the part of the surplus-value, so that the 
+value of the variable capital plus the surplus-value, i.e., the value newly added by labour to the means of 
+production and newly incorporated in the product; remains the same. 
+
+But if the increase or decrease in the value of the variable capital or wages is due to a rise or fall in the 
+price of commodities, i.e., a decrease or increase in the productiveness of the labour employed by this 
+investment of capital then the value of the product is affected. But the rise or fall in wages in this case is 
+not a cause, but merely an effect. 
+
+On the other hand, assuming the constant capital in the above illustration to remain-400c, if the change 
+from 100v+150sto 150v+100s, i.e., the increase in variable capital, should be due to a decrease in the 
+productiveness of labour, not in this particular branch of industry, say, cotton spinning, but perhaps in 
+agriculture which provides the labourer's foodstuffs, i.e., due to a rise in the price of these foodstuffs, 
+then the value of the product would remain unchanged. The value of 650 would still be represented by 
+the same quantity of cotton yarn. 
+
+It follows, furthermore, from the above: If the decrease in the expenditure of constant capital is due to 
+economies, etc., in lines of production whose products enter into the labourer's consumption, then this, 
+just like the direct increase in the productivity of the employed labour itself, may lead to a decrease in 
+wages due to a cheapening of the means of subsistence of the labourer, and may lead, therefore, to an 
+increase in the surplus- value; so that the rate of profit in this case would grow for two reasons, namely, 
+on the one hand, because the value of the constant capital decreases, and on the other hand, because the 
+surplus-value increases. In our consideration of the transformation of surplus- value into profit, we 
+assumed that wages do not fall, but remain constant, because there we had to investigate the fluctuations 
+in the rate of profit, independent of the changes in the rate of surplus-value. Moreover, the laws 
+developed there are general ones, and also apply to investments of capital whose products do not enter 
+into the labourer's consumption, whereby changes in the value of the product, therefore, are without 
+influence upon the wages. 
+
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 49 
+
+Thus, the separation and resolution of new value annually added by new labour to the means of 
+production, or to the constant part of capital, into the various forms of revenue, viz., wages, profit and 
+rent, do not at all alter the limits of the value itself, the total value to be distributed among these various 
+categories; any more than a change in the mutual relations of these individual parts can change their total, 
+this given magnitude of value. The given number 100 always remains the same, whether it is divided into 
+50+50, or into 20+70+10, or into 40+30+30. The portion of the value of the product which is resolved 
+into these revenues is determined, just like the constant portion of the value of capital, by the value of the 
+commodities, i.e., by the quantity of labour incorporated in them in each case. Given first, then, is the 
+quantity of value of commodities to be divided among wages, profit and rent; in other words, the 
+absolute limit of the sum of the portions of value of these commodities. Secondly, as concerns the 
+individual categories themselves, their average and regulating limits are likewise given. Wages form the 
+basis in this limitation. They are regulated on the one hand by a natural law; their lower limit is 
+determined by the physical minimum of means of subsistence required by the labourer for the 
+conservation of his labour-power and for its reproduction; i.e., by a definite quantity of commodities. The 
+value of these commodities is determined by the labour-time required for their reproduction; and thus by 
+the portion of new labour added to the means of production, or by the portion of each working-day 
+required by the labourer for the production and reproduction of an equivalent for the value of these 
+necessary means of subsistence. For instance, if his average daily means of subsistence have a value=6 
+hours of average labour, then he must work on an average six hours per day for himself. The actual value 
+of his labour-power deviates from this physical minimum; it differs according to climate and level of 
+social development; it depends not merely upon the physical, but also upon the historically developed 
+social needs, which become second nature. But in every country, at a given time, this regulating average 
+wage is a given magnitude. The value of all other revenue thus has its limit. It is always equal to the 
+value in which the total working-day (which coincides in the present case with the average working-day, 
+since it comprises the total quantity of labour set in motion by the total social capital) is incorporated 
+minus the portion of the working-day incorporated in wages. Its limit is therefore determined by the limit 
+of the value in which the unpaid labour is expressed, that is, by the quantity of this unpaid labour. While 
+the portion of the working-day which is required by the labourer for the reproduction of the value of his 
+wages finds its ultimate limit in the physical minimum of wages, the other portion of the working-day, in 
+which surplus-labour is incorporated, and thus the portion of value representing surplus-value, finds its 
+limit in the physical maximum of the working-day, i.e., in the total quantity of daily labour-time during 
+which the labourer can, in general, be active and still preserve and reproduce his labour-power. Since we 
+are here concerned with the distribution of the value which represents the total labour newly added per 
+year, the working-day may be regarded here as a constant magnitude, and is assumed as such, no matter 
+how much or how little it may deviate from its physical maximum. The absolute limit of the portion of 
+value which forms surplus-value, and which resolves itself into profit and ground-rent, is thus given. It is 
+determined by the excess of the unpaid portion of the working-day over its paid portion, i.e., by the 
+portion of the value of the total product in which this surplus-labour exists. If we call the surplus- value 
+thus limited and calculated on the advanced total capital — the profit, as I have done, then this profit, so 
+far as its absolute magnitude is concerned, is equal to the surplus-value and, therefore, its limits are just 
+as much determined by law as the latter. On the other hand, the level of the rate of profit is likewise a 
+magnitude held within certain specific limits determined by the value of commodities. It is the ratio of 
+the total surplus-value to the total social capital advanced in production. If this capital=500 (say millions) 
+and the surplus-value=100, then 20% constitutes the absolute limit of the rate of profit. The distribution 
+of the social profit according to this rate among the capitals invested in the various spheres of production 
+
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 49 
+
+creates prices of production which deviate from the values of commodities and which are the real 
+regulating average market-prices. But this deviation abolishes neither the determination of prices by 
+values nor the regular limits of profit. Instead of the value of a commodity being equal to the capital 
+consumed in its production plus the surplus-value contained in it, its price of production is now equal to 
+the capital, c, consumed in its production plus the surplus-value falling to its share as a result of the 
+general rate of profit, for instance 20% on the capital advanced in its production, counting both the 
+consumed and the merely employed capital. But this additional amount of 20% is itself determined by 
+the surplus-value created by the total social capital and its relation to the value of this capital; and for this 
+reason it is 20% and not 10 or 100. The transformation of values into prices of production, then, does not 
+remove the limits on profit, but merely alters its distribution among the various particular capitals which 
+make up the social capital, i.e., it distributes it uniformly among them in the proportion in which they 
+form parts of the value of this total capital. The market-prices rise above and fall below these regulating 
+prices of production, but these fluctuations mutually balance each other. If one examines price lists over 
+a more or less long period of time, and if one disregards those cases in which the actual value of 
+commodities is altered by a change in the productivity of labour, and likewise those cases in which the 
+process of production has been disturbed by natural or social accidents, one will be surprised, in the first 
+place, by the relatively narrow limits of the deviations, and, secondly, by the regularity of their mutual 
+compensation. The same domination of the regulating averages will be found here that Quetelet pointed 
+out in the case of social phenomena. If the equalisation of the values of commodities into prices of 
+production does not meet any obstacles, then the rent resolves itself into differential rent, i.e., it is limited 
+to the equalisation of the surplus-profits which would he given to some capitalists by the regulating 
+prices of production and which are now appropriated by the landlord. Here, then, rent has its definite 
+limit of value in the deviations of the individual rates of profit, which are caused by the regulation of 
+prices of production by the general rate of profit. If landed property obstructs equalisation of the values 
+of commodities into prices of production, and appropriates absolute rent, then the latter is limited by the 
+excess of the value of the agricultural products over their price of production, i.e., by the excess of the 
+surplus-value contained in them over the rate of profit assigned to the capitals by the general rate of 
+profit. This difference, then, forms the limit of the rent, which, as before, is but a definite portion of the 
+given surplus-value contained in the commodities. 
+
+Finally, if equalisation of surplus-value into average profit meets with obstacles in the various spheres of 
+production in the form of artificial or natural monopolies, and particularly monopoly in landed property, 
+so that a monopoly price becomes possible, which rises above the price of production and above the 
+value of the commodities affected by such a monopoly, then the limits imposed by the value of the 
+commodities would not thereby be removed. The monopoly price of certain commodities would merely 
+transfer a portion of the profit of the other commodity-producers to the commodities having the 
+monopoly price. A local disturbance in the distribution of the surplus-value among the various spheres of 
+production would indirectly take place, but it would leave the limit of this surplus-value itself unaltered. 
+Should the commodity having the monopoly price enter into the necessary consumption of the labourer, 
+it would increase the wage and thereby reduce the surplus-value, assuming the labourer receives the 
+value of his labour-power as before. It could depress wages below the value of labour-power, but only to 
+the extent that the former exceed the limit of their physical minimum. In this case the monopoly price 
+would be paid by a deduction from real wages (i.e.. the quantity of use- values received by the labourer 
+for the same quantity of labour) and from the profit of the other capitalists. The limits within which the 
+monopoly price would affect the normal regulation of the prices of commodities would be firmly fixed 
+and accurately calculable. 
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+
+Thus just as the division of the newly added value of commodities, and, in general, value resolvable into 
+revenue, finds its given and regulating limits in the relation between necessary and surplus labour, wages 
+and surplus-value, so does the division of surplus-value itself into profit and ground-rent find its limits in 
+the laws regulating the equalisation of the rate of profit. As regards the division into interest and profit of 
+enterprise, the average profit itself forms the limit for both taken together. It furnishes the given 
+magnitude of value which they may split among themselves and which alone can be so divided. The 
+specific ratio of this division is here fortuitous, i.e., it is determined exclusively by conditions of 
+competition, whereas in other cases the balancing of supply and demand is equivalent to elimination of 
+the deviations in market-prices from their regulating average prices, i.e., elimination of the influence of 
+competition, it is here the only determinant. But why? Because the same production factor, capital, has to 
+divide its share of the surplus-value between two owners of the same production factor. But the fact that 
+there is no definite, regular limit here for the division of the average profit does not remove its limit as 
+part of the commodity- value; just as the fact that two partners in a certain business divide their profit 
+unequally due to different external circumstances does not affect the limits of this profit in any way. 
+
+Hence, although the portion of the commodity- value in which the new labour added to the value of the 
+means of production is incorporated is divided into various parts, which in the form of revenue assume 
+mutually independent forms, this is no reason for now considering wages, profit and ground-rent as the 
+constituent elements which, in combination or taken all together, are the source of the regulating price 
+(natural price, prix nEcessaire) of the commodities themselves; so that it is not the commodity-value, 
+after deducting the constant portion of value, which would be the original unit that divides into these 
+three parts, but rather, conversely, the price of each of these three parts would be independently 
+determined, and the price of the commodities would then be formed by adding these three independent 
+magnitudes together. In reality, the commodity-value is the magnitude which precedes the sum of the 
+total values of wages, profit and rent, regardless of the relative magnitudes of the latter. In the above 
+erroneous conception, wages, profit and rent are three independent magnitudes of value, whose total 
+magnitude produces, limits and determines the magnitude of the commodity- value. 
+
+In the first place it is evident that if wages, profit and rent were to form the price of commodities, this 
+would apply as much to the constant portion of the commodity-value as to the other portion, in which 
+variable capital and surplus-value are incorporated. Thus, this constant portion may here be left entirely 
+out of consideration, since the value of the commodities of which it is composed would likewise resolve 
+itself into the sum of the values of wages, profit and rent. As already noted, this conception, then, denies 
+the very existence of such a constant portion of value. 
+
+It is furthermore evident that value loses all meaning here. Only the conception of price still remains, in 
+the sense that a certain amount of money is paid to the owner of labour-power, capital and land. But what 
+is money? Money is not a thing, but a definite form of value, hence, value is again presupposed. Let us 
+say, then, that a definite amount of gold or silver is paid for these elements of production, or that it is 
+mentally equated to them. But gold and silver (and the enlightened economist is proud of this discovery) 
+are themselves commodities like all other commodities. The price of gold and silver is therefore likewise 
+determined by wages, profit and rent. Hence we cannot determine wages, profit and rent by equating 
+them to a certain amount of gold and silver, for the value of this gold and silver, by means of which they 
+should be evaluated as in their equivalent, should be first determined precisely by them, independently of 
+gold and silver, i.e., independently of the value of any commodity, which value is precisely the product 
+of the above three factors. Thus, to say that the value of wages, profit and rent consists in their being 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 49 
+
+equivalent to a certain quantity of gold and silver, would merely be saying that they are equal to a certain 
+quantity of wages, profit and rent. 
+
+Take wages first. For it is necessary to make labour the point of departure, even in this view of the 
+matter. How, then, is the regulating price of wages determined, the price about which its market-prices 
+oscillate? 
+
+Let us say that it is determined by the supply and demand of labour-power. But what sort of 
+labour-power demand is this? It is a demand made by capital. The demand for labour is therefore 
+tantamount to the supply of capital. In order to speak of a supply of capital, we should know above all 
+what capital is. Of what does capital consist? If we take its simplest aspect, it consists of money and 
+commodities. But money is merely a commodity-form. Capital, then, consists of commodities. But the 
+value of commodities, according to our assumption, is determined, in the first instance, by the price of 
+the labour producing the commodities, by wages. Wages are here presupposed and are treated as a 
+constituent element of the price of commodities. This price then should be determined by the ratio of 
+available labour to capital. The price of the capital itself is equal to the price of the commodities of which 
+it is composed. The demand by capital for labour is equal to the supply of capital. And the supply of 
+capital is equal to the supply of a quantity of commodities of given price, and this price is regulated in 
+the first place by the price of labour, and the price of labour in turn is equal to that portion of the 
+commodity-price constituting the variable capital, which is granted to the labourer in exchange for his 
+labour; and the price of the commodities constituting this variable capital is again determined, in turn, 
+primarily by the price of labour; for it is determined by the prices of wages, profit and rent. In order to 
+determine wages, we cannot, therefore, presuppose capital, for the value of the capital is itself 
+determined in part by wages. 
+
+Moreover, dragging competition into this problem does not help at all. Competition makes the 
+market-prices of labour rise or fall. But suppose supply and demand of labour are balanced. How are 
+wages then determined? By competition. But we have just assumed that competition ceases to act as a 
+determinant, that its influence is cancelled due to equilibrium between its two mutually opposing forces. 
+Indeed, it is precisely the natural price of wages that we wish to find, i.e., the price of labour that is not 
+regulated by competition, but which, on the contrary, regulates the latter. 
+
+Nothing remains but to determine the necessary price of labour by the necessary means of subsistence of 
+the labourer. But these means of subsistence are commodities, which have a price. The price of labour is 
+therefore determined by the price of the necessary means of subsistence and the price of the means of 
+subsistence, like that of all other commodities, is determined primarily by the price of labour. Therefore, 
+the price of labour determined by the price of the means of subsistence is determined by the price of 
+labour. The price of labour is determined by itself. In other words, we do not know how the price of 
+labour is determined. Labour in this case has a price in general, because it is considered as a commodity. 
+In order, therefore, to speak of the price of labour, we must know what price in general is. But we do not 
+learn at all in this way what price in general is. 
+
+Nevertheless, let us assume that the necessary price of labour is determined in this agreeable manner. 
+Then how is the average profit determined, the profit of every capital under normal conditions, which 
+constitutes the second element in the price of commodities? The average profit must be determined by an 
+average rate of profit; how is this rate determined? By competition among the capitalists? But the 
+competition already presupposes the existence of profit. It presupposes various rates of profit, and thus 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 49 
+
+various profits — either in the same or in different spheres of production. Competition can influence the 
+rate of profit only to the extent that it affects the prices of commodities. Competition can only make the 
+producers within the same sphere of production sell their commodities at the same prices, and make them 
+sell their commodities in different spheres of production at prices which will give them the same profit, 
+the same proportional addition to the price of commodities which has already been partially determined 
+by wages. Hence competition can only equalise inequalities in the rate of profit. In order to equalise 
+unequal rates of profit, profit must exist as an element in the price of commodities. Competition does not 
+create it. It lowers or raises its level, but does not create the level which is established when equalisation 
+has been achieved. And when we speak of a necessary rate of profit, what we wish to know is precisely 
+the rate of profit independent of the movements of competition, which in turn regulates competition 
+itself. The average rate of profit sets in when there is an equilibrium of forces among the competing 
+capitalists. Competition may establish this equilibrium but not the rate of profit which makes its 
+appearance with this equilibrium. When this equilibrium is established, why is the general rate of profit 
+now 10, or 20, or 100%? Because of competition? No, on the contrary, competition has eliminated the 
+causes producing deviations from 10, 20, or 100%. It has brought about a commodity-price whereby 
+every capital yields the same profit in proportion to its magnitude. The magnitude of this profit itself, 
+however, is independent of competition. The latter merely reduces, again and again, all deviations to this 
+magnitude. One person competes with another, and competition compels him to sell his commodities at 
+the same price as the other. But why is this price 10 or 20 or 100? 
+
+Thus, nothing remains but to declare rate of profit, and therefore profit, to be in some unaccountable 
+manner a definite extra charge added to the price of commodities, which up to this point was determined 
+by wages. The only thing that competition tells us is that this rate of profit must be a given magnitude. 
+But we knew this before — when we dealt with general rate of profit and "necessary price" of profit. 
+
+It is quite unnecessary to wade through this absurd process anew in the case of ground-rent. One can see 
+without doing this that, when carried out more or less consistently, it makes profit and rent merely appear 
+as definite extra charges added by unaccountable laws to the price of commodities, a price primarily 
+determined by wages. In short, competition has to shoulder the responsibility of explaining all the 
+meaningless ideas of the economists, whereas it should rather be the economists who explain 
+competition. 
+
+Now, disregarding here the illusion of a profit and rent being created by circulation, i.e., price 
+components arising through sale — and circulation can never give what it did not first receive — the 
+matter simply amounts to this: 
+
+Let the price of a commodity determined by wages=100 let the rate of profit be 10% of wages, and the 
+rent 15% of wages. Then the price of the commodity determined by the sum of wages, profit and 
+rent=125. This additional 25 cannot arise from the sale of the commodity. For all who sell one another 
+commodities sell at 125 that which costs 100 in wages; which is the same as if they had all sold at 100. 
+Thus, the operation must be considered independently of the circulation process. 
+
+If the three share the commodity itself, which now costs 125 — and it does not alter matters any if the 
+capitalist first sells at 125, and then pays 100 to the labourer, 10 to himself, and 15 to the landlord — the 
+labourer receives 4/5 =100 of the value and of the product. The capitalist receives 2/25 of the value and of 
+the product, and the landlord 3/25 . Since the capitalist sells at 125 instead of 100, he gives the labourer 
+only 4/5 of the product incorporating the latter' s labour. Thus, it would be just the same as if he had given 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 49 
+
+80 to the labourer and retained 20 — of which 8 would fall to his share and 12 to the landlord. In this case 
+he would have sold the commodity at its value, since in fact the additions to the price represent increases 
+that are independent of the value of the commodity, which under the assumption made above is 
+determined by the value of wages. This, in a roundabout way, amounts to saying that according to this 
+conception the term "wages," here 100, means the value of the product, i.e., the sum of money in which 
+this definite quantity of labour is represented; but that this value in turn differs from the real wage and 
+therefore leaves a surplus. But, here the surplus is realised by a nominal addition to the price. Hence, if 
+wages were equal to 1 10 instead of 100, the profit would have to be=l 1 and the ground-rent=16i/2, so 
+that the price of the commodity would=137i/2. This would leave the proportions unaltered. But since the 
+division would always be obtained by way of a nominal addition of definite percentages to wages, the 
+price would rise and fall with the wages. Wages are here first set equal to the value of the commodity, 
+and then divorced from it again. In fact, however, this amounts to saying in a roundabout and 
+meaningless way that the value of the commodity is determined by the quantity of labour contained in it, 
+whereas the value of wages is determined by the price of the necessary means of subsistence, and the 
+excess of value above the wage forms profit and rent. 
+
+The splitting of the value of commodities after subtracting the value of the means of production 
+consumed in their creation; the splitting of this given quantity of value, determined by the quantity of 
+labour incorporated in the produced commodities, into three component parts, which assume, as wages, 
+profit and rent, independent and mutually unrelated forms of revenue — this splitting appears in a 
+perverted form on the surface of capitalist production, and consequently in the minds of those captivated 
+by the latter. 
+
+Let the total value of a certain commodity=300, of which 200 is the value of the means of production, or 
+elements of constant capital, consumed in its production. This leaves 100 as the amount of new value 
+added to the commodity during its process of production. This new value of 100 is all that is available for 
+division among the three forms of revenue. If we let wages =x, profit=y and ground-rent=z, then the sum 
+of x+y+z will always=100 in our case. But to the industrialists, merchants and bankers, and to the vulgar 
+economists, this appears quite different. For them, the value of the commodity, after subtracting the value 
+of the means of production consumed by it, is not given=100, this 100 then being divided into x, y and z. 
+But rather, the price of the commodity simply consists of the value of wages, the value of profit and the 
+value of rent, which magnitudes are determined independently of the value of the commodity and of each 
+other, so that x, y and z are each given and determined independently, and only from the sum of these 
+magnitudes, which the may be smaller or larger than 100, is the magnitude of value of the commodity 
+itself obtained by adding these component values together. This quid pro quo is inevitable because: 
+
+First : The component parts of the value of a commodity, appear as independent revenues in relation to 
+one another, and as such are related to three very dissimilar production factors, namely labour, capital 
+and land, and therefore they seem to arise from the latter. Ownership of labour-power, capital and land is 
+the cause for these various component values of commodities falling to the share of the respective 
+owners, and thus transforming themselves into revenue for them. But the value does not arise from a 
+transformation into revenue; it must rather exist before it can be converted into revenue, before it can 
+assume this form. The illusion that the opposite is true is strengthened all the more as the determination 
+of the relative magnitudes of these three components in relation to one another follows different laws, 
+whose connection with, and limitation by, the value of the commodities themselves nowise appear on the 
+surface. 
+
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+
+Secondly: We have seen that a general rise or fall in wages, by causing a movement of the general rate of 
+profit in the opposite direction — other circumstances remaining the same — changes the prices of 
+production of the various commodities, i.e., raises some and lowers others, depending on the average 
+composition of capital in the respective spheres of production. Thus, experience shows here that in some 
+spheres of production, at any rate, the average price of a commodity rises because wages have risen, and 
+falls because wages have fallen. But "experience" does not show that the value of commodities, which is 
+independent of wages, secretly regulates these changes. However, if the rise in wages is local, if it only 
+takes place in particular spheres of production as a result of special circumstances, then a corresponding 
+nominal rise in the prices of these commodities may occur. This rise in the relative value of one kind of 
+commodity in relation to the others, for which wages have remained unchanged, is then merely a reaction 
+against the local disturbance in the uniform distribution of surplus-value among the various spheres of 
+production, a means of equalising the particular rates of profit into the general rate. "Experience" shows 
+in this case that wages again determine the price. Thus, in both of these cases experience shows that 
+wages determine the prices of commodities. But "experience" does not show the hidden cause of this 
+interrelation. Furthermore: The average price of labour, i.e., the value of labour-power, is determined by 
+the production price of the necessary means of subsistence. If the latter rises or falls, the former rises or 
+falls accordingly. Thus, experience again shows the existence of a connection between wages and the 
+price of commodities. But the cause may appear as an effect, and the effect as a cause, which is also the 
+case in the movements of market-prices, where a rise of wages above their average corresponds to the 
+rise of market-prices above the prices of production during periods of prosperity, and the subsequent fall 
+of wages below their average corresponds to a fall of market-prices below the prices of production. To 
+the dependence of prices of production upon the values of commodities prima facie there would always 
+have to correspond, apart from the oscillatory movements of market-prices, the experience that whenever 
+wages rise the rate of profit falls, and vice versa. But we have seen that the rate of profit may be 
+determined by movements in the value of constant capital, independently of the movements of wages; so 
+that wages and rate of profit, instead of moving in opposite directions, may move in the same direction, 
+may rise or fall together. If the rate of surplus-value were to directly coincide with the rate of profit, this 
+would not be possible. Similarly if wages should rise as a result of a rise in the prices of the means of 
+subsistence, the rate of profit may remain the same, or even rise, due to greater intensity of labour or 
+prolongation of the working-day. All these experiences bear out the illusion created by the independent 
+and distorted form of the component values, namely, that either wages alone, or wages and profit 
+together, determine the value of commodities. Once such an illusion appears with respect to wages, once 
+the price of labour and the value created by labour seem to coincide, the same automatically applies to 
+profit and rent. Their prices, i.e., their money-expression, must then be regulated independently of labour 
+and of the value created by the latter. 
+
+Thirdly: Let us assume that according to direct experience the values of a Commodity, or the prices of 
+production — which merely appear to be independent of the values — always coincide with the 
+market-prices of the commodity rather than merely prevailing as the regulating average prices by 
+constant compensation of the continual fluctuations in market-price. Let us assume, furthermore, that 
+reproduction always takes place under the same unaltered conditions, i.e., labour productivity remains 
+constant in all elements of capital. Finally, let us assume that the component value of the 
+commodity-product, which is formed in every sphere of production by the addition of a new quantity of 
+labour — i.e., a newly produced value — to the value of the means of production, always split into 
+constant proportions of wages, profit and rent, so that the wage actually paid always directly coincides 
+with the value of labour-power, the profit actually realised — with the portion of the total surplus-value 
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+
+which falls to the share of every independently functioning part of the total capital by virtue of the 
+average rate of profit, and the actual rent is always limited by the bounds within which ground-rent on 
+this basis is normally confined. In a word, let us assume that the division of the socially produced values 
+and the regulation of the prices of production takes place on a capitalist basis, but that competition is 
+eliminated. 
+
+Thus, under these assumptions, namely, if the value of commodities were constant and appeared so, if the 
+component value of the commodity-product which resolves itself into revenues were to remain a constant 
+magnitude and always appeared as such, and finally, if this given and constant component value always 
+split into constant proportions of wages, profit and rent — even under these assumptions, the real 
+movement would necessarily appear in distorted form; not as the splitting of a previously given 
+magnitude of value into three parts which assume mutually independent forms of revenue, but, on the 
+contrary, as the formation of this magnitude of value from the sum of the independent and separately 
+determined, each by itself, constituent elements — wages, profit and ground-rent. This illusion would 
+necessarily arise, because in the actual movement of individual capitals, and the commodities produced 
+by them, not the value of commodities would appear to he a precondition of its splitting but, conversely, 
+the components into which it is split function as a precondition of the value of the commodities. In the 
+first place, we have seen that to every capitalist the cost-price of his commodities appears as a given 
+magnitude and continually appears as such in the actual price of production. The cost-price, however, is 
+equal to the value of the constant capital, the advanced means of production, plus the value of 
+labour-power, which, however, appears to the agent of production in the irrational form of the price of 
+labour, so that wages simultaneously appear as revenue of the labourer. The average price of labour is a 
+given magnitude, because the value of labour-power, like that of any other commodity, is determined by 
+the necessary labour-time required for its reproduction. But as concerns that portion of the value of 
+commodities which is embodied in wages, it does not arise from the fact that it assumes this form of 
+wages, that the capitalist advances to the labourer his share of his own product in the form of wages, but 
+from the fact that the labourer produces an equivalent for his wages, i.e., that a portion of his daily or 
+annual labour produces the value contained in the price of his labour-power. But wages are stipulated by 
+contract, before their corresponding value equivalent has been produced. As an element of price, whose 
+magnitude is given before the commodity and its value have been produced, as a constituent part of the 
+cost-price, wages thereby do not appear as a portion which detaches itself in independent form from the 
+total value of the commodity, but rather, conversely, as a given magnitude, which predetermines this 
+value, i.e., as a creator of price and value. A role similar to that of wages in the cost-price of commodities 
+is played by the average profit in their price of production, for the price of production is equal to 
+cost-price plus average profit on the advanced capital. This average profit figures practically, in the mind 
+and calculation of the capitalist himself, as a regulating element, not merely in so far as it determines the 
+transfer of capitals from one sphere of investment into another, but also in all sales and contracts which 
+embrace a process of reproduction extending over long periods. But so far as it figures in this manner, it 
+is a pre-existent magnitude, which is in fact independent of the value and surplus-value produced in any 
+particular sphere of production, and thus even more so in the case of any individual investment of capital 
+in any sphere of production. Rather than appearing as a result of a splitting of value, it manifests itself 
+much more as a magnitude independent of the value of the produced commodities, as pre-existing in the 
+process of production of commodities and itself determining the average price of the commodities, i.e., 
+as a creator of value. Indeed, the surplus-value, owing to the separation of its various portions into 
+mutually, completely unrelated forms, appears in still more concrete form as a prerequisite for creating 
+commodity- value. A part of the average profit in the form of interest confronts the functioning capitalist 
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+
+independently as an assumed element in the production of commodities and of their value. No matter 
+how much the magnitude of the interest fluctuates, at each moment and for every capitalist it is a given 
+magnitude entering into the cost-price of the commodities produced by him as individual capitalist. The 
+same role is played by ground-rent in the form of lease money fixed by contract for the agricultural 
+capitalist, and in the form of rent for business premises in the case of other entrepreneurs. These portions 
+into which surplus-value is split, being given as elements of cost-price for the individual capitalist, 
+appear conversely therefore as creators of surplus-value; creators of a portion of the price of 
+commodities, just as wages create the other. The secret wherefore these products of the splitting of 
+commodity-value constantly appear as prerequisites for the formation of value itself is simply this, that 
+the capitalist mode of production, like any other, does not merely constantly reproduce the material 
+product, but also the social and economic relations, the characteristic economic forms of its creation. Its 
+result, therefore, appears just as constantly presupposed by it, as its presuppositions appear as its results. 
+And it is this continual reproduction of the same relations which the individual capitalist anticipates as 
+self-evident, as an indubitable fact. So long as the capitalist mode of production persists as such, a 
+portion of the newly added labour continually resolves itself into wages, another into profit (interest and 
+profit of enterprise), and a third into rent. In contracts between the owners of various agencies of 
+production this is always assumed, and this assumption is correct, however much the relative proportions 
+may fluctuate in individual cases. The definite form in which the parts of value confront each other is 
+presupposed because it is continually reproduced, and it is continually reproduced because it is 
+continually presupposed. 
+
+To be sure, experience and appearance now also demonstrate that market-prices, in whose influence the 
+capitalist actually sees the only determination of value, are by no means dependent upon such 
+anticipation, so far as their magnitude is concerned; that they do not correspond to whether the interest or 
+rent were set high or low. But the market-prices are constant only in their variation, and their average 
+over longer periods results precisely in the respective averages of wages, profit and rent as the constant 
+magnitudes, and therefore, in the last analysis, those dominating the market-prices. 
+
+On the other hand, it seems plain on reflection that if wages, profit and rent are creators of value since 
+they seem to be presupposed in the production of value, and are assumed by the individual capitalist in 
+his cost-price and price of production, then the constant portion, whose value enters as given into the 
+production of every commodity, is also a creator of value. But the constant portion of capital is no more 
+than a sum of commodities and, therefore, of commodity- values. Thus we should arrive at the absurd 
+tautology that commodity-value is the creator and cause of commodity- value. 
+
+However, if the capitalist were at all interested in reflecting about this — and his reflections as capitalist 
+are dictated exclusively by his interests and self-interested motives — experience would show him that 
+the product which he himself produces enters into other spheres of production as a constant portion of 
+capital, and that products of these other production spheres enter into his own product as constant 
+portions of capital. Since the additional value, so far as his new production is concerned, seems to be 
+formed, from his point of view, by the magnitudes of wages, profit and rent, then this also holds good for 
+the constant portion consisting of the products of other capitalists. And thus, the price of the constant 
+portion of capital, and thereby the total value of the commodities, reduces itself in the final analysis, 
+although in a manner which is somewhat unaccountable, to a sum of values resulting from the addition of 
+independent creators of value — wages, profit and rent — which are regulated according to different laws 
+and arise from different sources. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 49 
+
+Fourthly: Whether the commodities are sold at their values or not, and hence the determination of value 
+itself, is quite immaterial for the individual capitalist. It is, from the very outset, a process that takes place 
+behind his back and is controlled by the force of circumstances independent of himself, because it is not 
+the values, but the divergent prices of production, which form the regulating average prices in every 
+sphere of production. The determination of value as such interests and has a determining effect on the 
+individual capitalist and the capital in each particular sphere of production only in so far as the reduced 
+or increased quantity of labour required to produce commodities, as a consequence of a rise or fall in 
+productiveness of labour, enables him in one instance to make an extra profit, at the prevailing 
+market-prices, and compels him in another to raise the price of his commodities, because more wages, 
+more constant capital, and thus more interest, fall upon each portion of the product, or individual 
+commodity. It interests him only in so far as it raises or lowers the cost of production of commodities for 
+himself, thus only in so far as it makes his position exceptional. 
+
+On the other hand, wages, interest and rent appear to him as regulating limits not only of the price at 
+which he can realise the profit of enterprise, the portion of profit falling to his share as functioning 
+capitalist, but also at which he must generally be able to sell his commodities, if continued reproduction 
+is to take place. It is quite immaterial to him whether or not he realises, through sale, the value and 
+surplus-value incorporated in his commodities, provided only that he makes the customary, or larger, 
+profit of enterprise at given prices, over and above his individual cost-price determined by wages, 
+interest and rent. Apart from the constant portion of capital-wages, interest and rent appear to him, 
+therefore, as the limiting and thereby productive determining elements of the commodity-price. Should 
+he succeed, e.g., in depressing wages below the value of labour-power, i.e., below its normal level, in 
+obtaining capital at a lower interest rate, and in paying less lease money than the normal amount for rent, 
+then it is completely irrelevant to him whether he sells his product below its value, or even below the 
+general price of production, thereby giving away gratis a portion of the surplus-labour contained in the 
+commodities. This also applies to the constant portion of capital. If an industrialist, e.g., can buy his raw 
+material below its price of production, then this buffers him against loss, even should he sell it in the 
+finished product under its price of production. His profit of enterprise may remain the same, or even 
+increase, if only the excess of the commodity-price over its elements, which must he paid, replaced by an 
+equivalent, remains the same or increases. But aside from the value of the means of production which 
+enter into the production of his commodities as a given price magnitude, it is precisely wages, interest 
+and rent which enter into this production as limiting and regulating price magnitudes. Consequently they 
+appear to him as the elements determining the price of the commodities. Profit of enterprise, from this 
+standpoint, seems to he either determined by the excess of market-prices, dependent upon accidental 
+conditions of competition, over the immanent value of commodities determined by the above-mentioned 
+elements of price; or, to the extent that this profit itself exerts a determining influence upon 
+market-prices, it seems itself, in turn, dependent upon the competition between buyers and sellers. 
+
+In the competition of individual capitalists among themselves as well as in the competition on the 
+world-market, it is the given and assumed magnitudes of wages, interest and rent which enter into the 
+calculation as constant and regulating magnitudes; constant not in the sense of being unalterable 
+magnitudes, but in the sense that they are given in each individual case and constitute the constant limit 
+for the continually fluctuating market-prices. For instance, in competition on the world-market it is solely 
+a question of whether commodities can he sold advantageously with existing wages, interest and rent at, 
+or below, existing general market-prices, i.e., realising a corresponding profit of enterprise. If wages and 
+the price of land are low in one country, while interest on capital is high, because the capitalist mode of 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 49 
+
+production has not been developed generally, whereas in another country wages and the price of land are 
+nominally high, while interest on capital is low, then the capitalist employs more labour and land in the 
+one country, and in the other relatively more capital. These factors enter into calculation as determining 
+elements in so far as competition between these two capitalists is possible. Here, then, experience shows 
+theoretically, and the self-interested calculation of the capitalist shows practically, that the prices of 
+commodities are determined by wages, interest and rent, by the price of labour, capital and land, and that 
+these elements of price are indeed the regulating constituent factors of price. 
+
+Of course, there always remains an element here which is not assumed, but which results from the 
+market-price of commodities, namely, the excess above the cost-price formed by the addition of the 
+aforementioned elements: wages, interest and rent. This fourth element seems to be determined by 
+competition in each individual case, and in the average case by the average profit, which in its turn is 
+regulated by this same competition, only over longer periods. 
+
+Fifthly. On the basis of the capitalist mode of production, it becomes so much a matter of course to split 
+up the value, in which newly added labour is represented, into the forms of revenue, of wages, profit and 
+ground-rent, that this method is applied (leaving aside earlier stages of history, from which we gave 
+illustrations in our study of ground-rent) even where the preconditions for these forms of revenue are 
+missing. That is, all is subsumed by analogy under these forms of revenue. 
+
+When an independent labourer — let us take a small farmer, since all three forms of revenue may here be 
+applied — works for himself and sells his own product, he is first considered as his own employer 
+(capitalist), who makes use of himself as a labourer, and second as his own landlord, who makes use of 
+himself as his own tenant. To himself as wage-worker he pays wages, to himself as capitalist he gives the 
+profit, and to himself as landlord he pays rent. Assuming the capitalist mode of production and the 
+relations corresponding to it to be the general basis of society, this subsumption is correct, in so far as it 
+is not thanks to his labour, but to his ownership of means of production — which have assumed here the 
+general form of capital — that he is in a position to appropriate his own surplus-labour. And furthermore, 
+to the extent that he produces his product as commodities, and thus depends upon its price (and even if 
+not, this price is calculable), the quantity of surplus-labour which he can realise depends not on its own 
+magnitude, but on the general rate of profit; and likewise any eventual excess above the amount of 
+surplus-value determined by the general rate of profit is, in turn, not determined by the quantity of labour 
+performed by him, but can be appropriated by him only because he is owner of the land, Since such a 
+form of production not corresponding to the capitalist mode of production may thus be subsumed under 
+its forms of revenue — and to a certain extent not incorrectly — the illusion is all the more strengthened 
+that capitalist relations are the natural relations of every mode of production. 
+
+Of course, if wages are reduced to their general basis, namely, to that portion of the product of the 
+producer's own labour which passes over into the individual consumption of the labourer; if we relieve 
+this portion of its capitalist limitations and extend it to that volume of consumption which is permitted, 
+on the one hand, by the existing productivity of society (that is, the social productivity of his own 
+individual labour as actually social), and which, on the other hand, the full development of the 
+individuality requires; if, furthermore, we reduce the surplus-labour and surplus-product to that measure 
+which is required under prevailing conditions of production of society, on the one side to create an 
+insurance and reserve fund, and on the other to constantly expand reproduction to the extent dictated by 
+social needs; finally, if we include in No. 1 the necessary labour, and in No. 2 the surplus-labour, the 
+quantity of labour which must always be performed by the able-bodied in behalf of the immature or 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 49 
+
+incapacitated members of society, i.e., if we strip both wages and surplus-value, both necessary and 
+surplus labour, of their specifically capitalist character, then certainly there remain not these forms, but 
+merely their rudiments, which are common to all social modes of production. 
+
+Moreover, this method of subsumption was also characteristic of previous dominant modes of 
+production, e.g., feudalism. Production relations which nowise corresponded to it, standing entirely 
+beyond it, were subsumed under feudal relations, e.g., in England, the tenures in common socage (as 
+distinct from tenures on knight's service), which comprised merely monetary obligations and were feudal 
+in name only. 
+
+Footnotes 
+
+f551 In breaking down the value added to the constant portion of capital into wages, profit and 
+ground-rent, it goes without saying that these are portions of value. One may, indeed, conceive of them 
+as existing in the direct product in which this value appears, i.e., in the direct product produced by 
+labourers and capitalists in some particular sphere of production — for instance, yarn produced in the 
+spinning industry. But in fact they do not materialise in this product any more or any less than in any 
+other commodity, in any other component of the material wealth having the same value. And in practice 
+wages are indeed paid in money, that is, in the pure expression of value, likewise interest and rent. For 
+the capitalist, the transformation of his product into the pure expression of value is indeed very 
+important; in the distribution itself this transformation is already assumed. Whether these values are 
+reconverted into the same product, the same commodity, out of whose production they arose, whether the 
+labourer buys back a part of the product directly produced by himself or buys the product of some other 
+labour of a different kind, has nothing to do with the matter itself. Herr Rodbertus quite unnecessarily 
+flies into a passion about this. 
+
+f561 "It will be sufficient to remark that the same general rule which regulates the value of raw produce 
+and manufactured commodities is applicable also to the metals; their value depending not on the rate of 
+profits, nor on the rate of wages, nor on the rent paid for mines, but on the total quantity of labour 
+necessary to obtain the metal and to bring it to market." (Ricardo, Principles, Ch. Ill, p. 77.) 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 51 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch50.htm (16 of 16) [23/08/2000 16:05:51] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 51 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Part VI 
+
+REVENUES AND THEIR SOURCES 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 51 
+
+
+
+Distribution Relations and Production Relations 
+
+
+
+The new value added by the annual newly added labour — and thus also that portion of the annual 
+product in which this value is represented and which may be drawn out of the total output and separated 
+from it — is thus split into three parts, which assume three different forms of revenue, into forms which 
+express one portion of this value as belonging or falling to the share of the owner of labour-power, 
+another portion to the owner of capital, and a third portion to the owner of landed property. These, then, 
+are relations, or forms of distribution, for they express the relations under which the newly produced total 
+value is distributed among the owners of the various production factors. 
+
+From the common viewpoint these distribution relations appear as natural relations, as relations arising 
+directly from the nature of all social production, from the laws of human production in general It cannot, 
+indeed, be denied that pre-capitalist societies disclose other modes of distribution, but the latter are 
+interpreted as undeveloped, unperfected and disguised, not reduced to their purest expression and their 
+highest form and differently shaded modes of the natural distribution relations. 
+
+The only correct aspect of this conception is: Assuming some form of social production to exist (e.g., 
+primitive Indian communities, or the more ingeniously developed communism of the Peruvians), a 
+distinction can always be made between that portion of labour whose product is directly consumed 
+individually by the producers and their families and — aside from the part which is productively 
+consumed — that portion of labour which is invariably surplus-labour, whose product serves constantly to 
+satisfy the general social needs no matter how this surplus-product may be divided, and no matter who 
+may function as representative of these social needs. Thus, the identity of the various modes of 
+distribution amounts merely to this: they are identical if we abstract from their differences and specific 
+forms and keep in mind only their unity as distinct from their dissimilarity. 
+
+A more advanced, more critical mind, however, admits the historically developed character of 
+distribution relations, [56a] but nevertheless clings all the more tenaciously to the unchanging character of 
+production relations themselves, arising from human nature and thus independent of all historical 
+development. 
+
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+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 51 
+
+On the other hand, scientific analysis of the capitalist mode of production demonstrates the contrary, that 
+it is a mode of production of a special kind, with specific historical features; that, like any other specific 
+mode of production, it presupposes a given level of the social productive forces and their forms of 
+development as its historical precondition: a precondition which is itself the historical result and product 
+of a preceding process, and from which the new mode of production proceeds as its given basis; that the 
+production relations corresponding to this specific, historically determined mode of production — 
+relations which human beings enter into during the process of social life, in the creation of their social 
+life — possess a specific, historical and transitory character; and, finally, that the distribution relations 
+essentially coincident with these production relations are their opposite side, so that both share the same 
+historically transitory character. 
+
+In the study of distribution relations, the initial point of departure is the alleged fact that the annual 
+product is apportioned among wages, profit and rent. But if so expressed, it is a misstatement. The 
+product is apportioned on one side to capital, on the other to revenue. One of these revenues, wages, 
+never itself assumes the form of revenue, revenue of the labourer, until after it has first confronted this 
+labourer in the form of capital. The confrontation of produced conditions of labour and of the products of 
+labour generally, as capital, with the direct producers implies from the outset a definite social character 
+of the material conditions of labour in relation to the labourers, and thereby a definite relationship into 
+which they enter with the owners of the means of production and among themselves during production 
+itself. The transformation of these conditions of labour into capital implies in turn the expropriation of 
+the direct producers from the land, and thus a definite form of landed property. 
+
+If one portion of the product were not transformed into capital, the other would not assume the forms of 
+wages, profit and rent. 
+
+On the other hand, if the capitalist mode of production presupposes this definite social form of the 
+conditions of production, so does it reproduce it continually. It produces not merely the material 
+products, but reproduces continually the production relations in which the former are produced, and 
+thereby also the corresponding distribution relations. 
+
+It may be said, of course, that capital itself (and landed property which it includes as its antithesis) 
+already presupposes a distribution: the expropriation of the labourer from the conditions of labour, the 
+concentration of these conditions in the hands of a minority of individuals, the exclusive ownership of 
+land by other individuals, in short, all the relations which have been described in the part dealing with 
+primitive accumulation (Buch I, Kap. XXIV) [English edition: Part VIII — Ed]. But this distribution 
+differs altogether from what is understood by distribution relations when the latter are endowed with a 
+historical character in contradistinction to production relations. What is meant thereby are the various 
+titles to that portion of the product which goes into individual consumption, The aforementioned 
+distribution relations, on the contrary, are the basis of special social functions performed within the 
+production relations by certain of their agents, as opposed to the direct producers. They imbue the 
+conditions of production themselves and their representatives with a specific social quality. They 
+determine the entire character and the entire movement of production. 
+
+Capitalist production is distinguished from the outset by two characteristic features. 
+
+First. It produces its products as commodities. The fact that it produces commodities does not 
+differentiate it from other modes of production; but rather the fact that being a commodity is the 
+dominant and determining characteristic of its products. This implies, first and foremost, that the labourer 
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 51 
+
+himself comes forward merely as a seller of commodities, and thus as a free wage-labourer, so that 
+labour appears in general as wage-labour. In view of what has already been said, it is superfluous to 
+demonstrate anew that the relation between capital and wage-labour determines the entire character of 
+the mode of production. The principal agents of this mode of production itself, the capitalist and the 
+wage-labourer, are as such merely embodiments, personifications of capital and wage-labour; definite 
+social characteristics stamped upon individuals by the process of social production; the products of these 
+definite social production relations. 
+
+The characteristic 1) of the product as a commodity, and 2) of the commodity as a product of capital, 
+already implies all circulation relations, i.e., a definite social process through which the products must 
+pass and in which they assume definite social characteristics; it likewise implies definite relations of the 
+production agents, by which the value-expansion of their product and its reconversion, either into means 
+of subsistence or into means of production, are determined. But even apart from this, the entire 
+determination of value and the regulation of the total production by value results from the above two 
+characteristics of the product as a commodity, or of the commodity as a capitalistically produced 
+commodity. In this entirely specific form of value, labour prevails on the one hand solely as social 
+labour; on the other hand, the distribution of this social labour and the mutual supplementing and 
+interchanging of its products, the subordination under, and introduction into, the social mechanism, are 
+left to the accidental and mutually nullifying motives of individual capitalists. Since these latter confront 
+one another only as commodity-owners, and everyone seeks to sell his commodity as dearly as possible 
+(apparently even guided in the regulation of production itself solely by his own free will), the inner law 
+enforces itself only through their competition, their mutual pressure upon each other, whereby the 
+deviations are mutually cancelled. Only as an inner law, vis-a-vis the individual agents, as a blind law of 
+Nature, does the law of value exert its influence here and maintain the social equilibrium of production 
+amidst its accidental fluctuations. 
+
+Furthermore, already implicit in the commodity, and even more so in the commodity as a product of 
+capital, is the materialisation of the social features of production and the personification of the material 
+foundations of production, which characterise the entire capitalist mode of production. 
+
+The second distinctive feature of the capitalist mode of production is the production of surplus-value as 
+the direct aim and determining motive of production. Capital produces essentially capital, and does so 
+only to the extent that it produces surplus-value. We have seen in our discussion of relative 
+surplus-value, and further in considering the transformation of surplus-value into profit, how a mode of 
+production peculiar to the capitalist period is founded hereon — a special form of development of the 
+social productive powers of labour, but confronting the labourer as powers of capital rendered 
+independent, and standing in direct opposition therefore to the labourer's own development. Production 
+for value and surplus-value implies, as has been shown in the course of our analysis, the constantly 
+operating tendency to reduce the labour-time necessary for the production of a commodity, i.e., its value, 
+below the actually prevailing social average. The pressure to reduce cost-price to its minimum becomes 
+the strongest lever for raising the social productiveness of labour, which, however, appears here only as a 
+continual increase in the productiveness of capital. 
+
+The authority assumed by the capitalist as the personification of capital in the direct process of 
+production, the social function performed by him in his capacity as manager and ruler of production, is 
+essentially different from the authority exercised on the basis of production by means of slaves, serfs, etc. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 51 
+
+Whereas, on the basis of capitalist production, the mass of direct producers is confronted by the social 
+character of their production in the form of strictly regulating authority and a social mechanism of the 
+labour-process organised as a complete hierarchy — this authority reaching its bearers, however, only as 
+the personification of the conditions of labour in contrast to labour, and not as political or theocratic 
+rulers as under earlier modes of production — among the bearers of this authority, the capitalists 
+themselves, who confront one another only as commodity-owners, there reigns complete anarchy within 
+which the social interrelations of production assert themselves only as an overwhelming natural law in 
+relation to individual free will. 
+
+Only because labour pre-exists in the form of wage-labour, and the means of production in the form of 
+capital — i.e., solely because of this specific social form of these essential production factors — does a 
+part of the value (product) appear as surplus-value and this surplus-value as profit (rent), as the gain of 
+the capitalist, as additional available wealth belonging to him. But only because this surplus-value thus 
+appears as his profit do the additional means of production, which are intended for the expansion of 
+reproduction, and which constitute a part of this profit, present themselves as new additional capital, and 
+the expansion of the process of reproduction in general as a process of capitalist accumulation. 
+
+Although the form of labour as wage-labour is decisive for the form of the entire process and the specific 
+mode of production itself, it is not wage-labour which determines value. In the determination of value, it 
+is a question of social labour-time in general, the quantity of labour which society generally has at its 
+disposal, and whose relative absorption by the various products determines, as it were, their respective 
+social importance. The definite form in which the social labour-time prevails as decisive in the 
+determination of the value of commodities is of course connected with the form of labour as wage-labour 
+and with the corresponding form of the means of production as capital, in so far as solely on this basis 
+does commodity-production become the general form of production. 
+
+Let us moreover consider the so-called distribution relations themselves. The wage presupposes 
+wage-labour, and profit — capital. These definite forms of distribution thus presuppose definite social 
+characteristics of production conditions, and definite social relations of production agents. The specific 
+distribution relations are thus merely the expression of the specific historical production relations. 
+
+And now let us consider profit. This specific form of surplus-value is the precondition for the fact that 
+the new creation of means of production takes place in the form of capitalist production; thus, a relation 
+dominating reproduction, although it seems to the individual capitalist as if he could in reality consume 
+his entire profit as revenue. However, he thereby meets barriers even in the form of insurance and reserve 
+funds laws of competition, etc., which hamper him and prove to him in practice that profit is not a mere 
+distribution category of the individually consumable product. The entire process of capitalist production 
+is furthermore regulated by the prices of the products. But the regulating prices of production are 
+themselves in turn regulated by the equalisation of the rate of profit and its corresponding distribution of 
+capital among the various social spheres of production. Profit, then, appears here as the main factor, not 
+of the distribution of products, but of their production itself, as a factor in the distribution of capitals and 
+labour itself among the various spheres of production. The division of profit into profit of enterprise and 
+interest appears as the distribution of the same revenue. But it arises, to begin with, from the 
+development of capital as a self-expanding value, a creator of surplus-value, i.e., from this specific social 
+form of the prevailing process of production. It evolves credit and credit institutions out of itself, and 
+thereby the form of production. As interest, etc., the ostensible distribution forms enter into the price as 
+determining production factors. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 51 
+
+Ground-rent might seem to be a mere form of distribution, because landed property as such does not 
+perform any, or at least any normal, function in the process of production itself. But the circumstance that 
+1) rent is limited to the excess above the average profit, and that 2) the landlord is reduced from the 
+manager and master of the process of production and of the entire process of social life to the position of 
+mere lessor of land, usurer in land and mere collector of rent, is a specific historical result of the 
+capitalist mode of production. The fact that the earth received the form of landed property is a historical 
+precondition for this. The fact that landed property assumes forms which permit the capitalist mode of 
+operation in agriculture is a product of the specific character of this mode of production. The income of 
+the landlord may be called rent, even under other forms of society. But it differs essentially from rent as 
+it appears in this mode of production. 
+
+The so-called distribution relations, then, correspond to and arise from historically determined specific 
+social forms of the process of production and mutual relations entered into by men in the reproduction 
+process of human life. The historical character of these distribution relations is the historical character of 
+production relations, of which they express merely one aspect. Capitalist distribution differs from those 
+forms of distribution which arise from other modes of production, and every form of distribution 
+disappears with the specific form of production from which it is descended and to which it corresponds. 
+
+The view which regards only distribution relations as historical, but not production relations, is, on the 
+one hand, solely the view of the initial, but still handicapped, criticism of bourgeois economy. On the 
+other hand, it rests on the confusion and identification of the process of social production with the simple 
+labour-process, such as might even be performed by an abnormally isolated human being without any 
+social assistance. To the extent that the labour-process is solely a process between man and Nature, its 
+simple elements remain common to all social forms of development. But each specific historical form of 
+this process further develops its material foundations and social forms. Whenever a certain stage of 
+maturity has been reached, the specific historical form is discarded and makes way for a higher one. The 
+moment of arrival of such a crisis is disclosed by the depth and breadth attained by the contradictions and 
+antagonisms between the distribution relations, and thus the specific historical form of their 
+corresponding production relations, on the one hand, and the productive forces, the production powers 
+and the development of their agencies, on the other hand. A conflict then ensues between the material 
+development of production and its social form.[57] 
+
+Footnotes 
+
+f56al J. Stuart Mill, Some Unsettled Questions in Political Economy, London, 1844. 
+f571 See the work on Competition and Co-operation (1832?). 
+
+
+
+Next: Chapter 52 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/ch51.htm (5 of 5) [23/08/2000 16:05:54] 
+
+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 52 
+
+Karl Marx 
+
+CAPITAL Vol. Ill 
+
+THE PROCESS OF 
+
+CAPITALIST PRODUCTION AS A WHOLE 
+
+
+
+Part VI 
+
+REVENUES AND THEIR SOURCES 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 52 
+
+
+
+Classes 
+
+
+
+The owners merely of labour-power, owners of capital, and land-owners, whose respective sources of 
+income are wages, profit and ground-rent, in other words, wage-labourers, capitalists and land-owners, 
+constitute then three big classes of modern society based upon the capitalist mode of production. 
+
+In England, modern society is indisputably most highly and classically developed in economic structure. 
+Nevertheless, even here the stratification of classes does not appear in its pure form. Middle and 
+intermediate strata even here obliterate lines of demarcation everywhere (although incomparably less in 
+rural districts than in the cities). However, this is immaterial for our analysis. We have seen that the 
+continual tendency and law of development of the capitalist mode of production is more and more to 
+divorce the means of production from labour, and more and more to concentrate the scattered means of 
+production into large groups, thereby transforming labour into wage-labour and the means of production 
+into capital. And to this tendency, on the other hand, corresponds the independent separation of landed 
+property from capital and labour, f581 or the transformation of all landed property into the form of landed 
+property corresponding to the capitalist mode of production. 
+
+The first question to he answered is this: What constitutes a class? — and the reply to this follows 
+naturally from the reply to another question, namely: What makes wage-labourers, capitalists and 
+landlords constitute the three great social classes? 
+
+At first glance — the identity of revenues and sources of revenue. There are three great social groups 
+whose members, the individuals forming them, live on wages, profit and ground-rent respectively, on the 
+realisation of their labour-power, their capital, and their landed property. 
+
+However, from this standpoint, physicians and officials, e.g., would also constitute two classes, for they 
+belong to two distinct social groups, the members of each of these groups receiving their revenue from 
+one and the same source. The same would also be true of the infinite fragmentation of interest and rank 
+into which the division of social labour splits labourers as well as capitalists and landlords-the latter, e.g., 
+into owners of vineyards, farm owners, owners of forests, mine owners and owners of fisheries. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Capital, Vol.3, Chapter 52 
+
+[Here the manuscript breaks off.] 
+
+
+
+Footnotes 
+
+f581 F. List remarks correctly: "The prevalence of a self-sufficient economy on large estates 
+demonstrates solely the lack of civilisation, means of communication, domestic trades and wealthy cities. 
+It is to be encountered, therefore, throughout Russia, Poland, Hungary and Mecklenburg. Formerly, it 
+was also prevalent in England; with the advance of trades and commerce, however, this was replaced by 
+the breaking up into middle estates and the leasing of land." (Die Ackerverfas sung, die Zwergwirtschaft 
+und die Auswanderung, 1842, p. 10.) 
+
+
+
+Next: F. Engels — Supplement to Capital Volume 3 
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
+
+
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+Frederick Engels: Supplement to Capital Volume 3 
+
+Frederick Engels 
+
+Supplement to Capital Volume 3 
+
+
+
+Introduction 
+
+The third book of Capital is receiving many and various interpretations ever since it has been subject to 
+public judgement. It was not to be otherwise expected. In publishing it, what I was chiefly concerned 
+with was to produce as authentic a text as possible, to demonstrate the new results obtained by Marx in 
+Marx's own words as far as possible, to intervene myself only where absolutely unavoidable, and even 
+then to leave the reader in no doubt as to who was talking to him. This has been deprecated. It has been 
+said that I should have converted the material available to me into a systematically written book, en f aire 
+un livre, as the French say; in other words, sacrifice the authenticity of the text to the reader's 
+convenience. But this was not how I conceived my task. I lacked all justification for such a revision, a 
+man like Marx has the right to be heard himself, to pass on his scientific discoveries to posterity in the 
+full genuineness of his own presentation. Moreover, I had no desire thus to infringe — as it must seem to 
+me — upon the legacy of so pre-eminent a man; it would have meant to me a breach of faith. And third, it 
+would have been quite useless. For the people who cannot or do not want to read, who, even in Volume I, 
+took more trouble to understand it wrongly than was necessary to understand it correctly — for such 
+people it is altogether useless to put oneself out in any way. But for those who are interested in a real 
+understanding, the original text itself was precisely the most important thing; for them my recasting 
+would have had at most the value of a commentary, and, what is more, a commentary on something 
+unpublished and inaccessible. The original text would have had to be referred to at the first controversy, 
+and at the second and third its publication in extenso would have become quite unavoidable. 
+
+Such controversies are a matter of course in a work that contains so much that is new, and in a hastily 
+sketched and partly incomplete first draft to boot. And here my intervention, of course, can be of use: to 
+eliminate difficulties in understanding, to bring more to the fore important aspects whose significance is 
+not strikingly enough evident in the text, and to make some important additions to the text written in 
+1865 to fit the state of affairs in 1895. Indeed, there are already two points which seem to me to require a 
+brief discussion. 
+
+
+
+LAW OF VALUE AND RATE OF PROFIT 
+
+It was to be expected that the solution of the apparent contradiction between these two factors would lead 
+to debates just as much after, as before, the publication of Marx's text. Some were prepared for a 
+complete miracle, and find themselves disappointed because they see a simple, rational, prosaically-sober 
+solution of the contradiction, instead of the hocus-pocus they had expected. Most joyfully disappointed, 
+of course, is the well-known, illustrious Loria. He has at last found the Archimedian fulcrum from which 
+even a gnome of his calibre can lift the solidly built, gigantic Marxian structure into the air and explode 
+it. What! he declaims indignantly. Is that supposed to be a solution? That is pure mystification! When 
+economists speak of value, they mean value that is actually established in exchange. 
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+
+"No economist with any trace of sense has ever concerned himself or will ever want to concern himself 
+with a value which commodities do not sell for and never can sell for (ne possono vendersi mai).... In 
+asserting that the value for which commodities never sell is proportional to the labor they contain, what 
+does Marx do except repeat in an inverted form the thesis of the orthodox economists, that the value for 
+which commodities sell is not proportional to the labor expended on them? [...] "Matters are not helped 
+by Marx's saying that despite the divergency of individual prices from individual values, the total price of 
+all commodities always coincides with their total value, or the amount of labor contained in the totality of 
+the commodities. For inasmuch as value is nothing more than the exchange ratio between one commodity 
+and another, the very concept of a total value is an absurdity, nonsense... a contradiction in abjecto..." 
+
+At the very beginning of the book he argues, Marx says that exchange can equate two commodities only 
+by virtue of a similar and equally large element contained in them — namely, the equal amount of labor. 
+And now he most solemnly repudiates himself by asserting that commodities exchange with one another 
+in a totally different ratio than that of the amount of labor contained in them. 
+
+"Was there ever such an utter reductio ad absurdum, such complete theoretical bankruptcy? Was ever 
+scientific suicide committed with greater pomp and more solemnity!" (Nouva Antologia, Feb.l, 1895, 
+pp.478-79.) 
+
+We see: our Loria is more than happy. Wasn't he right in treating Marx as one of his own, as an ordinary 
+charlatan? There you see it — Marx sneers at his public just like Loria; he lives on mystification just like 
+the most insignificant Italian professor of economics. But, whereas Dulcamara can afford that because he 
+knows his trade, the clumsy Northerner, Marx, commits nothing but ineptitudes, writes nonsense and 
+absurdities, so that there is nothing left finally for him but solemn suicide. 
+
+Let us save for later the statement that commodities have never been sold, nor can ever be sold, at the 
+values determined by labor. Let us deal here merely with Mr. Loria's assurance that "value is nothing 
+more than the exchange ratio between one commodity and another", and that therefore "the very concept 
+of a total value is an absurdity, nonsense... " 
+
+The ratio in which two commodities are exchanged for each other, their value, is therefore something 
+purely accidental, stuck on to the commodities from the outside, which can be one thing today and 
+something else tomorrow. Whether a metric hundredweight of wheat is exchanged for a gramme or a 
+kilogramme of gold does not in the least depend upon conditions inherent in that wheat or gold. For 
+otherwise these conditions would also have to assert themselves in the exchange, dominate the latter on 
+the whole, and also have an independent existence apart from exchange, so that one could speak of a total 
+value of commodities. That is nonsense, says the illustrious Loria. No matter in what ratio two 
+commodities may be exchanged for each other, that is their value — and that's all there is to it. Hence, 
+value is identical with price, and every commodity has as many values as the prices it can get. And price 
+is determined by supply and demand; and any one asking any more questions is a fool to expect an 
+answer. 
+
+But there is a little hitch to the matter. In the normal state, supply and demand balance. Therefore, let us 
+divide all the commodities in the world into two halves, the supply group and the equally large demand 
+group. Let us assume that each represents a price of 1,000 billion marks, francs, pounds, or what you 
+will. According to elementary arithmetic, that makes a price of 2,000 billions. Nonsense, absurd, says 
+Mr. Loria. The two groups together may represent a price of 2,000 billions. But it is otherwise with 
+value. If we say price: 1,000 + 1,000 = 2,000. But if we say value: 1,000 + 1,000 = 0. At least in this 
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+Frederick Engels: Supplement to Capital Volume 3 
+
+case, where the totality of commodities is involved. For here the commodities of each of the two groups 
+are worth 1,000 billion only because each of the two can and will give this sum for the commodities of 
+the other. But if we unite the totality of the commodities of the two in the hands of a third person, the 
+first has no value in his hand any longer, nor the second, and the third certainly not — in the end, no one 
+has anything. And again we marvel at the superiority with which our southern Cagliostro has 
+manhandled the concept of value in such a fashion that not the slightest trace of it has been left. This is 
+the acme of vulgar economics ! 
+
+In Braun's Archivfur soziale Gesetzgebung, Vol. VII, No.4, Werner Sombart gives an outline of the 
+Marxian system which, taken all in all, is excellent. It is the first time that a German university professor 
+succeeds on the whole in seeing in Marx's writings what Marx really says, stating that the criticism of the 
+Marxian system cannot consist of a refutation — "let the political careerist deal with that" — but merely in 
+a further development. Sombart, too, deals with our subject, as is to be expected. He investigates the 
+importance of value in the Marxian system, and arrives at the following results. Value is not manifest in 
+the exchange relation of capitalistically produced commodities; it does not live in the consciousness of 
+the agents of capitalist production; it is not an empirical, but a mental, a logical fact; the concept of value 
+in its material definiteness in Marx is nothing but the economic expression for the fact of the social 
+productive power of labor as the basis of economic existence; in the final analysis, the law of value 
+dominates economic processes in a capitalist economic system, and for this economic system quite 
+generally has the following content: the value of commodities is the specific and historical form in which 
+the productive power of labor, in the last analysis dominating all economic processes, asserts itself as a 
+determining factor. So, says Sombart, it cannot be said that this conception of the significance of the law 
+of value for the capitalist form of production is wrong. But it does seem to me to be too broad, and 
+susceptible of a narrower, more precise formulation: in my opinion it by no means exhausts the entire 
+significance of the law of value for the economic stages of society's development dominated by this law. 
+
+There is a likewise excellent article by Conrad Schmidt on the third volume of Capital in Braun's 
+Sozialpolitisches Zentralblatt, February 25, 1895, No.22. Especially to be emphasized here is the proof 
+of how the Marxian derivation of average profit from surplus-value for the first time gives an answer to 
+the question not even posed by economics up to now: how the magnitude of this average rate of profit is 
+determined, and how it comes about that it is, say, 10 or 15 per cent and not 50 or 100 per cent. Since we 
+know that the surplus-value first appropriated by the industrial capitalist is the sole and exclusive source 
+from which profit and rent flow, this question solves itself. This passage of Schmidt's article might be 
+directly written for economists a la Loria, if it were not labor in vain to open the eyes of those who do not 
+want to see. 
+
+Schmidt, too, has his formal misgivings regarding the law of value. He calls it a scientific hypothesis, set 
+up to explain the actual exchange process, which proves to be the necessary theoretical starting point, 
+illuminating and indispensable, even in respect of the phenomena of competitive prices which seem in 
+absolute contradiction to it. According to him, without the law of value all theoretical insight into the 
+economic machinery of capitalist reality ceases. And in a private letter that he permits me to quote, 
+Schmidt declares the law of value within the capitalist form of production to be a pure, although 
+theoretically necessary, fiction. This view, however, is quite incorrect in my opinion. The law of value 
+has a far greater and more definite significance for capitalist production than that of a mere hypothesis, 
+not to mention a fiction, even though a necessary one. 
+
+Sombart, as well as Schmidt, — I mention the illustrious Loria merely as an amusing vulgar-economist 
+
+
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+Frederick Engels: Supplement to Capital Volume 3 
+
+foil — does not make sufficient allowance for the fact that we are dealing here not only with a purely 
+logical process, but with a historical process, and its explanatory reflection in thought, the logical 
+pursuance of its inner connections. 
+
+The decisive passage is to be found in Marx, Vol.III,: 
+
+"The whole difficulty arises from the fact that commodities are not exchanged simply as commodities, 
+but as products of capitals, which claim participation in the total amount of surplus-value, proportional to 
+their magnitude, or equal if they are of equal magnitude." 
+
+To illustrate this difference, it is supposed that the workers are in possession of their means of 
+production, they they work on the average for equally long periods of time and with equal intensity, and 
+exchange their commodities with one another directly. Then, in one day, two workers would have added 
+by their labor an equal amount of new value to their products, but the product of each would have 
+different value, depending on the labor already embodied in the means of production. This latter part of 
+the value would represent the constant capital of capitalist economy, while that part of the newly-added 
+value employed for the worker's means of subsistence would represent the variable capital, and the 
+portion of the new value still remaining would represent the surplus-value, which in this case would 
+belong to the worker. Thus, after deducting the amount to replace the "constant" part of value only 
+advanced by them, both workers would get equal values; but the ratio of the part representing 
+surplus-value to the value of the means of production — which correspond to the capitalist rate of profit — 
+would be different in each case. But since each of them gets the value of the means of production 
+replaced through the exchange, this would be a wholly immaterial circumstance. 
+
+"The exchange of commodities at their values, or approximately at their values, thus requires a much 
+lower stage than their exchange at their prices of production, which requires a definite level of capitalist 
+development.... 
+
+"Apart from the domination of prices and price movement by the law of value, it is quite appropriate to 
+regard the values of commodities as not only theoretically but also historically antecedent (prius) to the 
+prices of production. This applies to conditions in which the laborer owns his own means of production, 
+and this is the condition of the land-owning working farmer and the craftsman, in the ancient as well as 
+in the modern world. This agrees also with the view we expressed previously, that the evolution of 
+products into commodities arises through exchange between different communities, not between the 
+members of the same community. It holds not only for this primitive condition, but also for subsequent 
+conditions, based on slavery and serfdom, and for the guild organization of handicrafts, so long as the 
+means of production involved in each branch of production can be transferred from one sphere to another 
+only with difficulty and therefore the various spheres of production are related to one another, within 
+certain limits, as foreign countries or communist communities." 
+
+Had Marx an opportunity to go over the third volume once more, he would doubtless have extended this 
+passage considerably. As it stands, it gives only a sketchy outline of what is to be said on the point in 
+question. Let us, therefore, examine it somewhat closer. 
+
+We all know that at the beginning of society, products are consumed by the producers themselves, and 
+that these producers are spontaneously organized in more or less communistic communities; that the 
+exchange of the surplus of these products with strangers, which ushers in the conversion of products into 
+commodities, is of a later date; that it takes places at first only between individual communities of 
+
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+
+different tribes, but later also prevails within the community, and contributes considerably to the latter's 
+dissolution into bigger or smaller family groups. But even after this dissolution, the exchanging family 
+heads remain working peasants, who produce almost all they require with the aid of their families on 
+their own farmsteads, and get only a slight portion of the required necessities from the outside in 
+exchange for surplus products of their own. The family is engaged not only in agriculture and 
+livestock-raising; it also works their products up into finished articles of consumption; now and then it 
+even does its own milling with the hand-mill; it bakes bread, spins, dyes, weaves flax and wool, tans 
+leather, builds and repairs wooden buildings, makes tools and utensils, and not infrequently does joinery 
+and blacksmithing; so that the family, or family group, is in the main self-sufficient. 
+
+The little that such a family had to obtain by barter or buy from outside, even up to the beginning of the 
+19th century in Germany, consisted principally of the objects of handicraft production — that is, such 
+things the nature of whose manufacture was by no means unknown to the peasant, and which he did not 
+produce himself only because he lacked the raw material or because the purchased article was much 
+better or very much cheaper. Hence, the peasant of the Middle Ages knew fairly accurately the 
+labor-time required for the manufacture of the articles obtained by him in barter. The smith and the 
+cartwright of the village worked under his eyes; likewise, the tailor and shoemaker — who in my youth 
+still paid their visits to our Rhine peasants, one after another, turning home-made materials into shoes 
+and clothing. The peasants, as well as the people from whom they bought, were themselves workers; the 
+exchanged articles were each one's own products. What had they expended in making these products? 
+Labor and labor alone: to replace tools, to produce raw material, and to process it, they spent nothing but 
+their own labor-power; how then could they exchange these products of theirs for those of other laboring 
+producers otherwise than in the ratio of labor expended on them? Not only was the labor-time spent on 
+these products the only suitable measure for the quantitative determination of the values to be exchanged: 
+no other way was at all possible. Or is it believed that the peasant and the artisan were so stupid as to 
+give up the product of 10 hours' labor of one person for that of a single hours' labor of another? No other 
+exchange is possible in the whole period of peasant natural economy than that in which the exchanged 
+quantities of commodities tend to be measured more and more according to the amounts of labor 
+embodied in them. From the moment money penetrates into this mode of economy, the tendency towards 
+adaptation to the law of value (in the Marxian formulation, nota bene!) grows more pronounced on the 
+one hand, while on the other it is already interrupted by the interference of usurers' capital and fleecing 
+by taxation; the periods for which prices, on average, approach to within a negligible margin of values, 
+begin to grow longer. 
+
+The same holds good for exchange between peasant products and those of the urban artisans. At the 
+beginning, this barter takes places directly, without the medium of the merchant, on the cities' market 
+days, when the peasant sells and makes his purchases. Here, too, not only does the peasant know the 
+artisan's working conditions, but the latter knows those of the peasant as well. For the artisan is himself 
+still a bit of a peasant — he not only has a vegetable and fruit garden, but very often also has a small piece 
+of land, one or two cows, pigs, poultry, etc. People in the Middle Ages were thus able to check up with 
+considerable accuracy on each other's production costs for raw material, auxiliary material, and 
+labor-time — at least in respect of articles of daily general use. 
+
+But how, in this barter on the basis of the quantity of labor, was the latter to be calculated, even if only 
+indirectly and relatively, for products requiring a longer labor, interrupted at regular intervals, and 
+uncertain in yield — grain or cattle, for example? And among people, to boot, who could not calculate? 
+Obviously, only by means of a lengthy process of zigzag approximation, often feeling the way here and 
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+
+there in the dark, and, as is usual, learning only through mistakes. But each one's necessity for covering 
+his own outlay on the whole always helped to return to the right direction; and the small number of kinds 
+of articles in circulation, as well as the often century-long stable nature of their production, facilitated the 
+attaining of this goal. And that it by no means took so long for the relative amount of value of these 
+products to be fixed fairly closely is already proved by the fact that cattle, the commodity for which this 
+appears to be most difficult because of the long time of production of the individual head, became the 
+first rather generally accepted money commodity. To accomplish this, the value of cattle, its exchange 
+ratio to a large number of other commodities, must already have attained a relatively unusual 
+stabilization, acknowledged without contradiction in the territories of many tribes. And the people of that 
+time were certainly clever enough — both the cattlebreeders and their customers — not to give away the 
+labor-time expended by them without an equivalent in barter. On the contrary, the closer people are to 
+the primitive state of commodity production — the Russians and Orientals, for example — the more time 
+do they still waste today, in order to squeeze out, through long tenacious bargaining, the full 
+compensation for their labor-time expended on a product. 
+
+Starting with this determination of value by labor-time, the whole of commodity production developed, 
+and with it, the multifarious relations in which the various aspects of the law of value assert themselves, 
+as described in the first part of Vol.1 of Capital; that is, in particular, the conditions under which labor 
+alone is value-creating. These are conditions which assert themselves without entering the consciousness 
+of the participants and can themselves be abstracted from daily practice only through laborious, 
+theoretical investigation; which act, therefore, like natural laws, as Marx proved to follow necessarily 
+from the nature of commodity production. The most important and most incisive advance was the 
+transition to metallic money, the consequence of which, however, was that the determination of value by 
+labor-time was no longer visible upon the surface of commodity exchange. From the practical point of 
+view, money became the decisive measure of value, all the more as the commodities entering trade 
+became more varied, the more they came from distant countries, and the less, therefore, the labor-time 
+necessary for their production could be checked. Money itself usually came first from foreign parts; even 
+when precious metals were obtained within the country, the peasant and artisan were partly unable to 
+estimate approximately the labor employed therein, and partly their own consciousness of the 
+value-measuring property of labor had been fairly well dimmed by the habit of reckoning with money; in 
+the popular mind, money began to represent absolute value. 
+
+In a word: the Marxian law of value holds generally, as far as economic laws are valid at all, for the 
+whole period of simple commodity production — that is, up to the time when the latter suffers a 
+modification through the appearance of the capitalist form of production. Up to that time, prices gravitate 
+towards the values fixed according to the Marxian law and oscillate around those values, so that the more 
+fully simple commodity production develops, the more the average prices over long periods 
+uninterrupted by external violent disturbances coincide with values within a negligible margin. Thus, the 
+Marxian law of value has general economic validity for a period lasting from the beginning of exchange, 
+which transforms products into commodities, down to the 15th century of the present era. But the 
+exchange of commodities dates from a time before all written history — which in Egypt goes back to at 
+least 2500 B.C., and perhaps 5000 B.C., and in Babylon to 4000 B.C., perhaps to 6000 B.C.; thus, the 
+law of value has prevailed during a period of from five to seven thousand years. And now, let us admire 
+the thoroughness of Mr. Loria, who calls the value generally and directly valid during this period a value 
+at which commodities are never sold nor can ever be sold, and with which no economist having a spark 
+of common sense would ever occupy himself! 
+
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+We have not spoken of the merchant up to now. We could save the consideration of this intervention for 
+now, when we pass to the transformation of simple into capitalist commodity production. The merchant 
+was the revolutionary element in this society where everything else was stable — stable, as it were, 
+through inheritance; where the peasant obtained not only his hide of land, but his status as a freehold 
+proprietor, as a free or enthralled quit-rent peasant or serf, and the urban artisan his trade and guild 
+privileges by inheritance and almost inalienably, and each of them, in addition, his customer, his market, 
+as well as his skill, trained from childhood for the inherited craft. Into this world then entered the 
+merchant, with whom its revolution was to start. But not as a conscious revolutionary; on the contrary, as 
+flesh of its flesh, bone of its bone. The merchant of the Middle Ages was by no means an individualist; 
+he was essentially an associate like all his contemporaries. The mark [3] association, grown out of 
+primitive communism, prevailed in the countryside. Each peasant originally had an equal hide, with 
+equal pieces of land of each quality, and a corresponding, equal share in the rights of the mark. After the 
+mark had become a closed association, and no new hides were allocated any longer, subdivision of the 
+hides occurred through inheritance, etc., with corresponding subdivisions of the common rights in the 
+mark; but the full hide remained the unit, so that there were half, quarter and eighth-hides with half, 
+quarter and eighth-rights in the mark. All later productive associations, particularly the guilds in the 
+cities, whose statutes were nothing but the application of the mark constitution to a craft privilege instead 
+of to a restricted area of land, followed the pattern of the mark association. The central point of the whole 
+organization was the equal participation of every member in the privileges and produce assured to the 
+guild, as is strikingly expressed in the 1527 licence of the Elberfeld and Barmen yarn trade. (Thun: 
+Industrie am Niederrhein, Vol.11, 164 ff.) The same holds true of the mine guilds, where each share 
+participated equally and was also divisible, together with its rights and obligations, like the hide of the 
+mark member. And the same holds good in no less degree of the merchant companies, which initiated 
+overseas trade. The Venetians and the Genoese in the harbor of Alexandria or Constantinople, each 
+"nation" in its own fondaco — dwelling, inn, warehouse, exhibition and salesrooms, together with central 
+offices — formed complete trade associations; they were closed to competitors and customers; they sold 
+at prices fixed among themselves; their commodities had a definite quality guaranteed by public 
+inspection and often by stamp; they deliberated in common on the prices to be paid by the natives for 
+their products, etc. Nor did Hanseatic merchants act otherwise on the German Bridge (Tydske Bryggen) 
+in Bergen, Norway; the same holds true of their Dutch and English competitors. Woe to the man who 
+sold under the price or bought above the price ! The boycott that struck him meant at that time inevitable 
+ruin, not counting the direct penalties imposed by the association upon the guilty. And even close 
+associations were founded for definite purposes, such as the Maona of Genoa in the 14th and 15th 
+centuries, for years the ruler of the alum mines in Phocaea in Asia Minor, as well as of the Island of 
+Chios; furthermore, the great Ravensberg Trading Company, which dealt with Italy and Spain since the 
+end of the 14th century, founding branches in those countries; the German company of the Augsburgers: 
+Fugger, Welser, Vohlin, Hochstetter, etc; that of the Nurnbergers: Hirschvogel and others, which 
+participated with a capital of 66,000 ducats and three ships in the 1505-06 Portuguese expedition to 
+India, making a net profit of 150 per cent, according to others 175 per cent (Heyd; Levantehandel, Vol.11, 
+p. 524); and a large number of other companies, "Monopolia", over which Luther waxes so indignant. 
+
+Here, for the first time, we meet with a profit and a rate of profit. The merchant's efforts are deliberately 
+and consciously aimed at making this rate of profit equal for all participants. The Venetians in the 
+Levant, and the Hanseatics in the North, each paid the same prices for his commodities as his neighbor; 
+his transport charges were the same, he got the same prices as every other merchant of his "nation". Thus, 
+the rate of profit was equal for all. In the big trading companies, the allocation of profit pro rata of the 
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/supp.htm (7 of 12) [23/08/2000 16:06:03] 
+
+
+
+Frederick Engels: Supplement to Capital Volume 3 
+
+paid-in capital share is as much a matter of course as the participation in mark rights pro rata of the 
+entitled hide share, or as the mining profit pro rata of the mining share. The equal rate of profit, which in 
+its fully developed form is one of the final results of capitalist production, thus manifests itself here in its 
+simplest form as one of the points from which capital started historically, as a direct offshoot in fact of 
+the mark association, which in turn is a direct offshoot of primitive communism. 
+
+This original rate of profit was necessarily very high. The business was very risky, not only because of 
+wide-spread piracy; the competing nations also permitted themselves all sorts of acts of violence when 
+the opportunity arose; finally, sales and marketing conditions were based upon licences granted by 
+foreign prices, which were broken or revoked often enough. Hence, the profit had to include a high 
+insurance premium. The turnover was slow, the handling of transactions protracted, and in the best 
+periods — which, admittedly, were seldom of long duration — the business was a monopoly trade with 
+monopoly profit. The very high interest rates prevailing at the time, which always had to be lower on the 
+whole than the percentage of usual commercial profit, also prove that the rate of profit was on the 
+average very high. 
+
+But this high rate of profit, equal for all participants and obtained through joint labor of the community, 
+held only locally within the associations — that is, in this case the "nation", Venetians, Genoese, 
+Hanseatics, and Dutchmen each had a special rate of profit, and at the beginning more or less each 
+individual market areas, as well. Equalization of these different company profit rates took place in the 
+opposite way, through competition. First, the profit rates of the different markets for one and the same 
+nation. If Alexandria offered more profit for Venetian goods than Cyprus, Constantinople, or Trebizond, 
+the Venetians would start more capital moving towards Alexandria, withdrawing it from trade with other 
+markets. Then, the gradual equalization of profit rates among the different nations, exporting the same or 
+similar goods to the same markets, had to follow, and some of these nations were very often squeezed to 
+the wall and disappeared from the scene. But this process was being continually interrupted by political 
+events, just as all Levantine trade collapsed owing to the Mongolian and Turkish invasions; the great 
+geographic-commercial discoveries after 1492 only accelerated this decline and then made it final. 
+
+The sudden expansion of the market area that followed the revolution in communications connected with 
+it, introduced no essential change at first in the nature of trade operations. At the beginning, co-operative 
+companies also dominated trade with India and America. But in the first place, bigger nations stood 
+behind these companies. In trade with America, the whole of great united Spain took the place of the 
+Catalonians trading with the Levant; alongside it, two countries like England and France; and even 
+Holland and Portugal, the smallest, were still at least as large and strong as Venice, the greatest and 
+strongest trading nation of the preceding period. This gave the traveling merchant, the merchant 
+adventurer of the 16th and 17th centuries, a backing that made the company, which protected its 
+companions with arms, also, more and more superfluous, and its expenses an outright burden. Moreover, 
+the wealth in a single hand grew considerably faster, so that single merchants soon could invest as large 
+sums in an enterprise as formerly an entire company. The trading companies, wherever still existent, 
+were usually converted into armed corporations, which conquered and monopolistically exploited whole 
+newly discovered countries under the protection and the sovereignty of the mother country. But the more 
+colonies were founded in the new areas, largely by the state, the more did company trade recede before 
+that of the individual merchant, and the equalization of the profit rate became therewith more and more a 
+matter of competition exclusively. 
+
+Up to now, we have become acquainted with a rate of profit only for merchant capital. For only merchant 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/supp.htm (8 of 12) [23/08/2000 16:06:03] 
+
+
+
+Frederick Engels: Supplement to Capital Volume 3 
+
+and usurers' capital had existed up to that time; industrial capital was yet to be developed. Production was 
+still predominantly in the hands of workers owning their own means of production, whose work therefore 
+yielded no surplus-value to any capital. If they had to surrender a part of the product to third parties 
+without compensation, it was in the form of tribute to feudal lords. Merchant capital, therefore, could 
+only make its profit, at least at the beginning, out of the foreign buyers of domestic products, or the 
+domestic buyers of foreign products; only toward the end of this period — for Italy, that is, with the 
+decline of Levantine trade — were foreign competition and the difficulty of marketing able to compel the 
+handicraft producers of export commodities to sell the commodity under its value to the exporting 
+merchant. And thus we find here that commodities are sold at their value, on the average, in the domestic 
+retail trade of individual producers with one another, but, for the reasons given, not in international trade 
+as a rule. Quite the opposite of the present-day world, where the production prices hold good in 
+international and wholesale trade, while the formations of prices in urban retail trade is governed by quite 
+other rates of profit. So that the meat of an ox, for example, experiences today a greater rise in price on 
+its way from the London wholesaler to the individual London consumer than from the wholesaler in 
+Chicago, including transport, to the London wholesaler. 
+
+The instrument that gradually brought about this revolution in price formation was industrial capital. 
+Rudiments of the latter had been formed as early as the Middle Ages, in three fields — shipping, mining, 
+and textiles. Shipping on the scale practiced by the Italian and Hanseatic maritime republics was 
+impossible without sailors, i.e., wage-laborers (whose wage relationship may have been concealed under 
+association forms with profit-sharing), or without oarsmen — wage-laborers or slaves — for the galleys of 
+that day. The guilds in the ore mines, originally associated workers, had already been converted in almost 
+every case into stock companies for exploiting the deposits by means of wage-laborers. And in the textile 
+industry, the merchant had begun to place the little master-weaver directly in his service, by supplying 
+him with yarn and having it made into cloth for his account in return for a fixed wage — in short, by 
+himself changing from a mere buyer into a so-called contractor. 
+
+Here we have the first beginnings of the formation of capitalist surplus-value. We can ignore the mining 
+guilds as closed monopoly corporations. With regard to the ship-owners, it is obvious that their profit had 
+to be at least as high as the customary one in the country, plus an extra increment for insurance, 
+depreciation of ships, etc. But how were matters with the textile contractors, who first brought 
+commodities, directly manufactured for capitalist account, into competition with the commodities of the 
+same sort made for handicraft account? 
+
+Merchant capital's rate of profit was at hand to start with. Likewise, it had already been equalized to an 
+approximate average rate, at least for the locality in question. Now, what could induce the merchant to 
+take on the extra business of a contractor? Only one thing: the prospect of greater profit at the same 
+selling price as the others. And he had this prospect. By taking the little master into his service, he broke 
+through the traditional bonds of production within which the producer sold his finished product and 
+nothing else. The merchant capitalist bought the labor-power, which still owned its production 
+instruments but no longer the raw material. By thus guaranteeing the weaver regular employment, he 
+could depress the weaver's wage to such a degree that a part of the labor-time furnished remained unpaid 
+for. The contractor thus became an appropriator of surplus-value over and above his commercial profit. 
+Admittedly, he had to employ additional capital to buy yarn, etc., and leave it in the weaver's hands until 
+the article for which he formerly had to pay full price only upon purchasing it, was finished. But, in the 
+first place, he had already used extra capital in most cases for advances to the weaver, who as a rule 
+submitted to the new production conditions only under the pressure of debt. And, secondly, apart from 
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/supp.htm (9 of 12) [23/08/2000 16:06:03] 
+
+
+
+Frederick Engels: Supplement to Capital Volume 3 
+
+that, the calculation took the following form: 
+
+Assume that our merchant operates his export business with capital of 30,000 ducats, sequins, pounds 
+sterling or whatever is the case. Of that, say 10,000 are engaged in the purchase of domestic goods, 
+whereas 20,000 are used in the overseas market. Say the capital is turned over once in two years. Annual 
+turnover = 15,000. Now, our merchant wants to become a contractor, to have cloth woven for his own 
+account. How much additional capital must he invest? Let us assume that the production time of the 
+piece of cloth, such as he sells, averages two months — which is certainly very high. Let us further 
+assume that he has to pay for everything in cash. Hence, he must advance enough capital to supply his 
+weavers with yarn for two months. Since his turnover is 15,000 a year, he buys cloth for 2,500 in two 
+months. Let us say that 2,000 of that represents the value of yarn, and 500 weavers' wages; then our 
+merchant requires an additional capital of 2,000. We assume that the surplus-value he appropriates from 
+the weaver by the new method totals only 5 per cent of the value of the cloth, which constitutes the 
+certainly very modest surplus-value rate of 25 per cent.( 2,000 c + 500 v + 125 s; s' = 125/500 = 25%, p' 
+= 125/2,500 = 5%). Our man then makes an extra profit of 750 on his annual turnover of 15,000, and has 
+thus got his additional capital back in 2 2/3 years. 
+
+But in order to accelerate his sales and hence his turnover, thus making the same profit with the same 
+capital in a shorter period of time, and hence a greater profit in the same time, he will donate a small 
+portion of his surplus-value to the buyer — he will sell cheaper than his competitors. These will also 
+gradually be converted into contractors, and then the extra profit for all of them will be reduced to the 
+ordinary profit, or even to a lower profit on the capital that has been increased for all of them. The 
+equality of the profit rate is re-established, although possibly on another level, by a part of the 
+surplus-value made at home being turned over to the foreign buyers. 
+
+The next step in the subjugation of industry by capital takes place through the introduction of 
+manufacture. This, too, enable the manufacturer, who is most often his own export trader in the 17th and 
+18th centuries — generally in Germany down to 1850, and still today here and there — to produce cheaper 
+than his old-fashioned competitor, the handicraftsman. The same process is repeated; the surplus-value 
+appropriated by the manufacturing capitalist enables him (or the export merchant who shares with him) 
+to sell cheaper than his competitors, until the general introduction of the new mode of production, when 
+equalization against takes place. The already existing mercantile rate of profit, even if it is levelled out 
+only locally, remains the Procrustean bed in which the excessive industrial surplus-value is lopped off 
+without mercy. 
+
+If manufacturing sprung ahead by cheapening its products, this is even more true of modern industry, 
+which forces the production costs of commodities lower and lower through its repeated revolutions in 
+production, relentlessly eliminating all former modes of production. It is large-scale industry, too, that 
+thus finally conquers the domestic market for capital, puts an end to the small-scale production and 
+natural economy of the self-sufficient peasant family, and places the entire nation in service of capital. 
+Likewise, it equalizes the profit rate of the different commercial and industrial branches of business into 
+one general rate of profit, and finally ensures industry the position of power due to it in this equalization 
+by eliminating most of the obstacles formerly hindering the transfer of capital from one branch to 
+another. Thereby the conversion of values into production prices is accomplished for all exchange as a 
+whole. This conversion therefore proceeds according to objective laws, without the consciousness or the 
+intent of the participants. Theoretically, there is no difficulty at all in the fact that competition reduces to 
+the general level profits which exceed the general rate, thus again depriving the first industrial 
+
+
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/supp.htm (10 of 12) [23/08/2000 16:06:03] 
+
+
+
+Frederick Engels: Supplement to Capital Volume 3 
+
+appropriator of the surplus-value exceeding the average. All the more so in practice, however, for the 
+spheres of production with excessive surplus-value, with high variable and low constant capital — i.e., 
+with low capital composition — are by their very nature the ones that are last and least completely 
+subjected to capitalist production, especially agriculture. On the other hand, the rise of production prices 
+above commodity values, which is required to raise the below-average surplus-value, contained in the 
+products of the spheres of high capital composition, to the level of the average rate of profit, appears to 
+be extremely difficult theoretically, but is soonest and most easily effected in practice, as we have seen. 
+For when commodities of this class are first produced capitalistically and enter capitalist commerce, they 
+compete with commodities of the same nature produced by per-capitalist methods and hence dearer. 
+Thus, even if the capitalist producer renounces a part of the surplus-value, he can still obtain the rate of 
+profit prevailing in his locality, which originally had no direct connection with surplus-value because it 
+had arisen from merchant capital long before there was any capitalist production at all, and therefore 
+before an industrial rate of profit was possible. 
+
+
+
+THE STOCK EXCHANGE 
+
+1. The position of the stock exchange in capitalist production in general is clear from Vol. Ill, Part 5, 
+especially Chapter [27]. But since 1865, when the book was written, a change has taken place which 
+today assigns a considerably increased and constantly growing role to the stock exchange, and which, as 
+it develops, tends to concentrate all production, industrial as well as agricultural, and all commerce, the 
+means of communication as well as the functions of exchange, in the hands of stock exchange operators, 
+so that the stock exchange becomes the most prominent representative of capitalist production itself. 
+
+2. In 1865 the stock exchange was still a secondary element in the capitalist system. Government bonds 
+represented the bulk of exchange securities, and even their sum-total was still relatively small. Besides, 
+there were joint- stock banks, predominant on the continent and in America, and just beginning to absorb 
+the aristocratic private banks in England, but still relatively insignificant en masse. Railway shares were 
+still comparatively weak compared to the present time. There were still only few directly productive 
+establishments in stock company form — and, like the banks, most of all in the poorer countries: 
+Germany, Austria, America, etc. The "minister's eye" was still an unconquered superstition. 
+
+At that time, the stock exchange was still a place where the capitalists took away each other' s 
+accumulated capital, and which directly concerned the workers only as new proof of the demoralising 
+general effect of capitalist economy and as confirmation of the Calvinist doctrine that predestination 
+(alias chance) decides, even in this life, blessedness and damnation, wealth, i.e., enjoyment and power, 
+and poverty, i.e., privation and servitude. 
+
+3. Now it is otherwise. Since the crisis of 1866 accumulation has proceeded with ever-increasing 
+rapidity, so that in no industrial country, least of all in England, could the expansion of production keep 
+up with that of accumulation, or the accumulation of the individual capitalist be completely utilised in the 
+enlargement of his own business; English cotton industry as early as 1845; the railway swindles. But 
+with this accumulation the number of rentiers, people who were fed up with the regular tension in 
+business and therefore wanted merely to amuse themselves or to follow a mild pursuit as directors or 
+
+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/supp.htm (11 of 12) [23/08/2000 16:06:03] 
+
+
+
+Frederick Engels: Supplement to Capital Volume 3 
+
+governors of companies, also rose. And third, in order to facilitate the investment of this mass floating 
+around as money-capital, new legal forms of limited liability companies were established wherever that 
+had not yet been done, and the liability of the shareholder, formerly unlimited, was also reducedi [more 
+or less] (joint-stock companies in Germany, 1890. Subscription 40 per cent!). 
+
+4. Thereafter, gradual conversion of industry into stock companies. One branch after another suffers this 
+fate. First iron, where giant plants are now necessary (before that, mines, where not already organised on 
+shares). Then the chemical industry, likewise machinery plants. On the continent, the textile industry; in 
+England, only in a few areas in Lancashire (Oldham Spinning Mill, Burnley Weaving Mill, etc., tailor 
+co-operatives, but this is only a preliminary stage which will again fall into the masters' hands at the next 
+crisis), breweries (the American ones sold a few years ago to English capital, then Guinness, Bass, 
+Allsopp). Then the trusts, which create gigantic enterprises under common management (such as United 
+Alkali). The ordinary individual firm is more and more only a preliminary stage to bring the business to 
+the point where it is big enough to be "founded." 
+
+Likewise in trade: Leafs, Parsons, Morleys, Morrison, Dillon — all founded. The same in retail stores by 
+now, and not merely under the cloak of co-operation a la "stores." 
+
+Likewise banks and other credit establishments even in England. A tremendous number of new banks, all 
+shares delimited. Even old banks etc., are converted, with seven private shareholders, into limited 
+companies. 
+
+5. The same in the field of agriculture. The enormously expanded banks, especially in Germany under all 
+sorts of bureaucratic names, more and more the holders of mortgages; with their shares the actual higher 
+ownership of landed property is transferred to the stock exchange, and this is even more true when the 
+farms fall into the creditors' hands. Here the agricultural revolution of prairie cultivation is very 
+impressive; if it continues, the time can be foreseen when England's and France's land will also be in the 
+hands of the stock exchange. 
+
+6. Now all foreign investments in the form of shares. To mention England alone: American railways, 
+North and South (consult the stock exchange list), Goldberger, etc. 
+
+7. Then colonisation. Today this is purely a subsidiary of the stock exchange, in whose interests the 
+European powers divided Africa a few years ago, and the French conquered Tunis and Tonkin. Africa 
+leased directly to companies (Niger, South Africa, German South- West and German East Africa), and 
+Mashonaland and Natal seized by Rhodes for the stock exchange. 
+
+Table of Contents for Capital, Vol. Ill 
+Marxist Writers Archive 
+
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+http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1894-c3/supp.htm (12 of 12) [23/08/2000 16:06:03] 
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diff --git a/year4/semester2/CT414/assignments/assignment2/data/plutarch_lives.txt b/year4/semester2/CT414/assignments/assignment2/data/plutarch_lives.txt
new file mode 100644
index 00000000..d08400ff
--- /dev/null
+++ b/year4/semester2/CT414/assignments/assignment2/data/plutarch_lives.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,25196 @@
+§;:    '    iHIHAU) 
+
+
+Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
+
+in  2009  with  funding  from 
+
+University  of  Toronto 
+
+
+http://www.archive.org/details/livesenglishedb01plut 
+
+
+THE    TUDOR 
+TRANSLATIONS 
+
+EDITED   BY 
+
+W.  E.  HENLEY 
+VII 
+
+
+9\u-t^>fc.h,     '^^■\^cr.    ^z.-r^\^  ci[ 
+
+
+LUTARCH'S 
+
+
+LIVESOF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+GRECIANS   AND   ROMANS 
+
+ENGLISHED     B  Y 
+
+SIR   THOMAS    NORTH 
+
+ANNO  1579 
+
+With  an  Introduction  by 
+
+GEORGE     WYNDHAM 
+
+FIRST     VOLUME 
+
+
+LONDON 
+
+Published   by   DAVID   NUTT 
+IN      THE      STRAND 
+
+1895 
+
+
+DE 
+Pf6 
+
+
+M 
+
+
+Edinburgh :  T.  and  A.  Constable,  Printers  to  Her  Majesty 
+
+
+TO 
+
+THE   RIGHT   HONOURABLE 
+ARTHUR  JAMES   BALFOUR 
+
+THIS    TRANSFIGURATION 
+
+IN   UNFADING   ENGLISH   OF 
+
+AN   IMMORTAL   BOOK 
+
+
+INTRODUCTION 
+
+
+LUTARCH  was  bora  at  the  little  Theban 
+town  of  Chasronea,  somewhere  about  50 
+A.D.  The  date  of  his  birth  marks  no 
+epoch  in  history ;  and  the  place  of  it, 
+even  then,  was  remembered  only  as  the 
+field  of  three  bygone  battles.  The  name 
+Chaeronea,  cropping  up  in  conversation  at 
+Rome,  for  the  birthplace  of  a  distinguished 
+Greek  lecturer,  must  have  sounded  strangely  familiar  in  the 
+eai-s  of  the  educated  Romans  whom  he  taught,  even  as  the  name 
+of  Dreux,  or  of  Tewkesbury,  sounds  strangely  familiar  in  our 
+own.  But  apart  from  such  chance  encounters,  few  can  have 
+been  aware  of  its  municipal  existence ;  and  this  same  contrast, 
+between  the  importance  and  the  renown  of  Plutarch's  birth- 
+place, held  in  the  caise  of  his  country  also.  The  Boeotian 
+plain — once  '  the  scaffold  of  Mars  where  he  held  his  games ""  ^ 
+— was  but  a  lonely  sheepwalk ;  even  as  all  Greece,  once  a 
+Europe  of  several  States,  was  but  one,  and  perhaps  the  poorest, 
+among  the  many  provinces  of  the  Empire.  Born  at  such  a 
+time  and  in  such  a  place,  Plutarch  was  still  a  patriot,  a  student 
+of  politics,  and  a  scholar,  and  was  therefore  bound  by  every 
+tie  of  sentiment  and  learning  to  the  ancient  memories  of 
+his  native  land.  Sometimes  he  brooded  over  her  altered 
+fortunes.  Boeotia  '  heretofore  of  old  time  resounded  and 
+'  rung  again  with  Oracles ' ;  but  now  all  the  land  that  from 
+
+^'Apews  opxn'^'rpav.  (Marcellus,  21.)  This  contrast  has  been  noted  by 
+R.  C.  Trench,  D.D.,  in  his  Plutarch.  Five  Lectures,  1874.  An  admirable 
+volume  full  of  suggestion. 
+
+vii 
+
+
+Plutarch  and 
+
+Plutarch's 
+
+Greece 
+
+
+His  Athens 
+and  his 
+Corinth 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+INTRO-  sea  to  sea  had  echoed  the  clash  of  arms  and  the  cadence 
+DUCTION  of  oratory  was  'mute  or  altogether  desolate  and  forlorn': 
+.  .  .  'hardly  able*"  he  goes  on,  '  to  make  three  thousand 
+'  men  for  the  wars,  which  are  now  no  more  in  number 
+'  than  one  city  in  times  past,  to  wit :  Megara,  set  forth 
+'  and  sent  to  the  battle  of  Plataea.'  ^  At  Athens,  though 
+Sulla  had  long  since  cut  down  the  woods  of  the  Academy, 
+there  were  still  philosophers ;  and  there  were  merchants 
+again  at  Corinth,  rebuilded  by  Julius  Caesar.  But  Athens, 
+even,  and  a  century  before,  could  furnish  only  three  ships 
+for  the  succour  of  Pompey ;  while  elsewhere,  the  cities 
+of  Greece  had  dwindled  to  villages,  and  the  villages  had 
+vanished,  'The  stately  and  sumptuous  buildings  which 
+'  Pericles  made  to  be  built  in  the  cittie  of  Athens  "*  were  still 
+standing  after  four  hundred  years,  untouched  by  Time, 
+but  they  were  the  sole  remaining  evidence  of  dignity.  So 
+that  Plutarch,  when  he  set  himself  to  write  of  Greek 
+worthies,  found  his  material  selected  to  his  hand.  Greek 
+rhetoricians,  himself  among  them,  might  lecture  in  every 
+city  of  the  South ;  but  of  Greek  soldiers  and  statesmen 
+there  was  not  one  in  a  land  left  empty  and  silent,  save 
+for  the  statues  of  gods  and  the  renown  of  great  men.  The 
+cradle  of  war  and  statecraft  was  become  a  memory  dear  to 
+him,  and  ever  evoked  by  his  personal  contact  with  the 
+triumphs  of  Rome.  From  this  contrast  flowed  his  inspiration 
+for  the  Parallel  Lives :  his  desire,  as  a  man,  to  draw  the 
+noble  Grecians,  long  since  dead,  a  little  nearer  to  the  noonday 
+of  the  living ;  his  delight,  as  an  artist,  in  setting  the  noble 
+Romans,  whose  names  were  in  every  mouth,  a  little  further 
+into  the  twilight  of  a  more  ancient  romance.  By  placing 
+them  side  by  side,  he  gave  back  to  the  Greeks  that  touch 
+which  they  had  lost  with  the  living  in  the  death  of  Greece, 
+and  to  the  Romans  that  distinction  from  everyday  life 
+which  they  were  fast  beginning  to  lose.  Then  and  ever 
+since,  an  imaginative  effort  was  needed  to  restore  to  Greece 
+those  trivialities  of  daily  life  which,  in  other  countries, 
+an  imaginative  effort  is  needed  to  destroy ;  and  hence  her 
+
+'  PlutarcKs  Morals.    Philemon  Holland,  1657,  p.  1078,  in  a  letter  addressed 
+to  Terentius  Priscus,  '  On  oracles  that  have  ceased  to  give  answers.' 
+
+viii 
+
+
+His  Inspira 
+tion 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+hold  on  the  imagination  of  every  age.  Plutarch,  considering  INTRO- 
+his  country,  found  her  a  solitude.  Yet  for  him  the  desert  DUCTION 
+air  was  vibrant  with  a  rumour  of  the  mighty  dead.  Their 
+memories  loomed  heroic  and  tremendous,  through  the  dim- 
+ness of  the  past ;  and  he  carried  them  with  him  when  he 
+went  to  Rome,  partly  on  a  political  errand,  and  partly  to 
+deliver  Greek  lectures. 
+
+In  JuvenaPs  '  Greek  city  "*  he  needed,  and  indeed  he  had,  in  Flavian 
+small  Latin.  '  I  had  no  leisure  to  study  and  exercise  the  Rome 
+'  Latin  tongue,  as  well  for  the  great  business  I  had  then  to 
+'  do,  as  also  to  satisfy  them  that  came  to  learn  philosophy  of 
+'  me ' :  thus,  looking  back  from  Chaeronea,  does  he  Avi'ite  in 
+his  preface  to  the  Demosthenes  and  Cicero,  adding  that  he 
+'  understood  not  matters  so  much  by  words,  as  he  came  to 
+'  understand  words  by  common  experience  and  knowledge  he 
+'  had  in  things."  We  gather  that  he  wrote  many,  if  not  all, 
+of  the  Lives  at  his  birthplace,  the  'poor  little  town""  to 
+which  he  returned  :  '  remaining  there  willingly  lest  it  should 
+'  become  less.''  But  it  was  in  Flavian  Rome,  in  the  '  great 
+'  and  famous  city  thoroughly  inhabited'  and  containing '  plenty 
+'  of  all  sorts  of  books,'  that,  having  taken  upon  him  to  write 
+'  a  history  into  which  he  must  thrust  many  strange  things 
+'  unknown  to  his  country,'  he  gathered  his  materials  '  out  of 
+'  divers  books  and  authorities,'  or  picked  them  up,  as  a  part 
+of '  common  experience  and  knowledge,'  in  familiar  converse 
+with  the  cultured  of  his  day.  I  have  quoted  thus,  for  the  light 
+the  passage  throws  on  the  nature  of  his  researches  in  Rome, 
+although  the  word  '  history '  may  mislead.  For  his  purpose  His  Purpose 
+was  not  to  write  histories,  even  of  individuals.  He  tells  us 
+so  himself.  '  I  will  only  desire  the  reader,'  he  writes  in  his 
+preface  to  the  Alexander  and  Caesar,  'not  to  blame  me 
+'  though  I  do  not  declare  all  things  at  large  ,  .  .  for  they 
+'  must  remember  that  my  intent  is  not  to  write  histories  but 
+'  only  lives.  For  the  noblest  deeds,'  he  goes  on,  '  do  not 
+'  always  shew  man's  virtues  and  vices,  but  oftentimes  a  light 
+'  occasion,  a  word,  or  some  sport  makes  men's  natural  dispo- 
+'  sitions  and  manners  appear  more  plainly  than  the  famous 
+'  battles  won,  wherein  are  slain  ten  thousand  men.'  As 
+'  painters  do  take  the  resemblance  of  the  face  and  favour 
+b  ix 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+INTRO-  '  of  the  countenance,''  making  '  no  accompt  of  other  parts  of 
+DUCTION  «  the  body,'  so  he,  too,  asks  for  '  leave  to  seek  out  the  signs 
+'  and  tokens  of  the  mind  only/  That  was  his  ambition  :  to 
+paint  a  gallery  of  portraits  ;  to  focus  his  vision  on  the 
+spiritual  face  of  his  every  subject,  and  for  every  Greek  to 
+hang  a  Roman  at  his  side.  To  compass  it,  he  set  himself 
+deliberately,  as  an  artist,  unconscious  of  any  intention  other 
+than  the  choice  of  good  subjects  and,  his  choice  once 
+made,  the  rejection  from  each  of  all  but  the  particular  and 
+the  significant.  He  stood  before  men's  souls  to  study  '  the 
+'  singularity  each  possessed,'^  as  Velasquez  in  a  later  age 
+before  men's  bodies ;  and,  even  as  his  method  was  allied, 
+so  was  his  measure  of  accomplishment  not  less. 
+His  Effect  But  the  Parallel  Lives  shows  something  different  from  this 
+
+purpose,  is  something  more  than  a  gallery  of  portraits  hung 
+in  pairs.  Plutarch  stands  by  his  profession.  His  imme- 
+diate concern  is  with  neither  history  nor  politics,  but  ^vith 
+the  '  disposition  and  manners '  of  the  great.  He  chooses  his 
+man,  and  then  he  paints  his  picture,  with  a  master's  choice 
+of  the  essential.  And  yet,  inasmuch  as  he  chooses  every 
+subject  as  a  matter  of  course  on  political  grounds — as  he 
+sees  all  men  in  the  State — it  follows  that  his  gallery  is  found, 
+for  all  his  avowed  intention,  to  consist  of  political  portraits 
+alone.  Thirteen,  indeed,  of  his  sitters  belong  not  only  to 
+history  but  also  to  one  chapter  of  history — a  chapter  short, 
+dramatic,  bloody,  and  distinctly  political.  This  was  the 
+chance.  When  Plutarch,  the  lecturer,  dropped  into  Roman 
+society  fresh  from  the  contemplation  of  Greece  '  depopulate 
+'  and  dispeopled,'  he  found  its  members  spending  their  ample 
+Some  of  his  leisure  in  academic  debate.  After  more  than  a  hundred 
+Sources  years    they    were   still    discussing  the   protagonists  in  that 
+
+greatest  of  political  dramas  which,  'for  a  sumptuous 
+'  conclusion  to  a  stately  tragedy,'  had  ushered  in  the 
+empire  of  the  world.  Predisposed  by  contrast  of  origin 
+and  affinity  of  taste,  he  threw  himself  keenly  into 
+their  pastime,  and  he  gives,  by  the  way,  some  minute 
+references  to  points  at  issue.  For  instance,  when  Pompey 
+and  the  Senate  had  deserted  Italy  at  Caesar's  approach,  a 
+^  Paulus  yEini litis. 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+stern-chase  of  ships  and  swords  had  swept  round  three  conti-  INTRO- 
+nents,  and  thereon  had  followed  a  campaign  of  words  and  DUCTION 
+pens  at  Rome.  In  that  campaign  the  chief  attack  and 
+reply  had  been  Cicero's  Cato  and  Caesar's  Anticaton; 
+and  these,  he  tells  us,^  had  'favourers  unto  his  day, 
+'  some  defending  the  one  for  the  love  they  bare  Caesar, 
+'  and  others  allowing  the  other  for  Cato's  sake/  We  gather 
+that  he  and  his  Roman  friends  argued  of  these  matters  over 
+the  dinner-table  and  in  the  lecture-halls,  even  as  men  argue 
+to-day  of  the  actors  in  the  French  Revolution.  Now,  to 
+glance  at  the  '  Table  of  the  Noble  Grecians  and  Romanes '  His  Roman 
+is  to  see  how  profoundly  this  atmosphere  affected  his  selec-  Lives 
+tion  of  Roman  lives.  For,  excluding  the  legendary  founders 
+and  defenders,  with  the  Emperors  Galba  and  Otho  (whose 
+lives  are  interpolations  from  elsewhere),  we  find  that  thirteen 
+of  the  nineteen  left  were  party  chiefs  in  the  constitutional 
+struggles  which  ended  on  the  fields  of  Pharsalia  and  Philippi, 
+The  effect  on  the  general  cast  of  the  Lives  has  been  so 
+momentous  that  a  whole  quarter  covers  only  the  political 
+action  which  these  thirteen  politicians  crowded  into  less 
+than  one  hundred  years.  The  society  of  idlers,  which  re- 
+ceived Plutarch  at  Rome,  was  still  debating  the  ideals  for 
+which  these  thirteen  men  had  fought  and  died ;  it  was  there- 
+fore inevitable  that,  in  seeking  for  foreign  parallels,  he  should 
+have  found  almost  as  many  as  he  needed  among  the  actors 
+in  that  single  drama.  As  it  was,  he  chose  for  his  greater 
+portraitures  all  the  chief  actors,  and  a  whole  army  of  sub- 
+sidiary characters  for  his  groups  in  the  middle  distance : 
+as  Saturninus  and  Cinna  from  one  act,  Clodius  and  Curio 
+from  another.  Nothing  is  wanting.  You  have  the  prologue 
+of  the  Gracchi,  the  epilogue  of  Antony,  and  between  the 
+play  from  the  triumph  of  Marius  to  Brutus  in  his  despair : 
+'  looking  up  to  the  firmament  that  was  full  of  stars,'  and 
+'  sighing '  over  a  cause  lost  for  ever.  And  yet  it  remains 
+true  that  Plutarch  did  not  make  this  selection  from — or 
+rather  this  clean  sweep  of — the  politicians  of  a  certain  epoch 
+in  order  to  illustrate  that  epoch's  history,  still  less  to  criticise 
+any  theory  of  constitutional  government.     The  remaining 
+
+^  Casar. 
+
+xi 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+INTRO-  Romans,  howbeit  engaged  in  several  issues,  and  the  Greeks, 
+DUCTION  though  gathered  from  many  ages  and  many  cities,  are 
+all  politicians,  or,  being  orators  and  captains,  are  still  in 
+the  same  way  chosen  each  for  his  influence  on  the  for- 
+tmies  of  a  State.  But  they  were  not  consciously  chosen 
+to  illustrate  history  or  to  discuss  politics.  Thanks, 
+not  to  a  point  of  view  peculiar  to  Plutarch  but  to  an 
+instinct  pervading  the  world  in  which  he  lived,  to  a  pre- 
+possession then  so  universal  that  he  is  never  conscious  of 
+its  influence  on  his  aim,  they  are  all  public  men.  For  him- 
+His  Principle  self,  he  was  painting  individual  character ;  and  he  sought 
+of  Selection  it  among  men  bearing  a  personal  stamp.  But  he  never 
+sought  it  in  a  private  person  or  a  comedian ;  nor  even 
+in  a  poet  or  a  master  of  the  Fine  Arts.  To  look  for 
+distinction  in  such  a  quarter  never  occurred  to  him ; 
+could  never,  I  may  say,  have  entered  his  head.  He 
+cannot  conceive  that  any  young  '  gentleman  nobly  born "" 
+should  so  much  as  wish  to  be  Phidias  or  Polycletus  or 
+Anacreon ;  ^  and  this  fi'om  no  vulgar  contempt  for  the 
+making  of  beautiful  things,  nor  any  mean  reverence  for 
+noble  birth,  but  because,  over  and  above  the  making  of 
+beautiful  things,  there  are  deeds  that  are  better  worth  the 
+doing,  and  because  men  of  noble  birth  are  freer  than  others 
+to  choose  what  deeds  they  will  set  themselves  to  do.  Why, 
+then,  he  seems  to  ask,  should  they  seek  any  service  less  noble 
+than  the  service  of  their  countrymen .?  why  pursue  any 
+ambition  less  exalted  than  the  salvation  of  their  State .? 
+For  his  part,  he  will  prefer  Lycurgus  before  Plato ;  for, 
+while  the  one  '  stablished  and  left  behind  him '  a  constitu- 
+tion, the  other  left  behind  him  only  '  words  and  written 
+'  books.'  ^  His  preference  seems  a  strange  one  now ;  but 
+it  deserves  to  be  noted  the  more  nearly  for  its  strangeness. 
+At  any  rate,  it  was  the  preference  of  a  patriot  and  a  repub- 
+lican, whose  country  had  sunk  to  a  simple  province  under 
+an  alien  Emperor,  and  it  governed  the  whole  range  of 
+Plutarch's  choice. 
+
+This  result  has  been  rendered  the  more  conspicuous  by 
+another  cause,  springing  at  first  from  an  accident,  but  in 
+^  Preface  to  Pericles.  ^  Lycurgus, 
+
+xii 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+its  application  influenced  by  the  political  quality  of  Plutarch"'s  INTRO- 
+material.  Lost  sight  of  and  scattered  in  the  Dark  Ages,  the  DUCTION 
+Parallel  Lives  were  recovered  and  rearranged  at  the  revival 
+of  learning.  But  just  as  a  gallery  of  historical  portraits, 
+being  dispersed  and  re-collected,  will  in  all  probability  be 
+hung  after  some  chronological  scheme,  so  have  the  lives  been 
+shuffled  anew  under  the  influence  of  their  political  extrac-  The  New 
+tion,  in  such  a  sort  as  to  change  not  only  the  complexion  Symmetry  of 
+but  also  the  structure  of  Plutarch's  design.  They  form  ^gg^J.^^f'^^g 
+no  longer  a  gallery  of  political  portraits,  hung  in  pairs  for  arrangement' 
+contrast's  sake :  they  are  grouped  with  intelligible  reference 
+to  the  history  of  Athens  and  of  Rome.  We  know  from 
+Plutarch's  own  statements  that  he  had  no  hand  in  their 
+present  arrangement.  He  was  engrossed  in  depicting  the 
+characters  of  great  men,  and  he  wrote  and  dedicated  each 
+pair  of  lives  to  Socius  Senecio,  or  another,  as  an  mdepen- 
+dent  '  book,'  '  treaty,'  or  '  volume.'  It  is  clear  from  many 
+passages  that  he  gathered  these  '  volumes '  together  without 
+reference  to  their  political  bearing  on  each  other.  The 
+Pericles  and  Fahius  Maximus,  which  is  now  the  Fifth 
+'  book,'  was  originally  the  Tenth ;  and  the  change  has 
+apparently  been  made  to  bring  Pericles,  so  far  as  the 
+Greeks  are  concerned,  within  the  consecutive  history  of 
+Athens  :  just  as  the  Demosthenes  and  Cicero^  once  the  Fifth, 
+is  now  by  much  removed  so  that  Cicero  may  fall  into 
+place  among  the  actors  of  the  Roman  drama.  So,  too, 
+the  Theseus,  now  standing  First,  as  the  founder  of  Athens, 
+was  written  after  the  Demosthenes,  now  set  well-nigh  at  the 
+end  of  the  series.  And  on  the  same  grounds,  evidently, 
+to  the  Marius  and  the  Pompey,  written  respectively  after 
+the  Ccesar  and  the  Brutus,  there  have  been  given  such 
+positions  as  were  dictated  by  the  development  of  the  drama. 
+The  fact  is,  Plutarch's  materials,  being  all  political,  have 
+settled  of  themselves,  and  have  been  sorted  in  accordance 
+with  their  political  nature :  until  his  work,  pieced  to- 
+gether by  humanists  and  rearranged  by  translators,  bears 
+within  it  some  such  traces  of  a  new  symmetry,  imperfect  yet 
+complex,  as  we  detect  in  the  stratification  of  crystalline 
+rocks.      Little   has  been  added  in  North's  first  edition  to 
+
+xiii 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE   NOBI,E 
+
+INTRO-      the  substance  of  Plutarch's  book  ;  ^  but  its  structure  and, 
+DUCTION  as  I  hope  to  show,  some  of  its  colour  and  surface  are  the 
+product,  not  only  of  the  one  mind  which  created  it  but, 
+of  the  many  who  have  preserved  it,  and  of  the  ages  it  has 
+outworn.     The  mere  changes  in  the  order  of  the  '  books ' 
+have  neither  increased  nor  diminished  their  contents  ;  but  by 
+evolving,  as  they  do,  a  more  or  less  symmetrical  juxtaposi- 
+tion of  certain  elements,  they  have  discovered  the  extent  to 
+which  the  work  is  permeated  by  those  elements.     As  the 
+quartz  dispersed  through  a  rock  strikes  the  eye,  when   it 
+is  crystallised,  from  the  angles  of  its  spar ;  so  the  amount 
+The  Parallel    of  Plutarch's  political  teaching,  which  might  have  escaped 
+Lives  a  Book    notice  when  it  was  scattered  through  independent  books,  now 
+of  Gr^eece  and  ^^^^^^  °"^  f^°™  ^^^  grouping  together  of  the  Athenians  who 
+Rome  made  and  unmade  Athens,  and  of  the  Romans  who  fought  for 
+
+and  against  the  Republican  Constitution  of  Rome.  For  the 
+Parallel  Lives  are  now  disposed  in  a  rough  chronological 
+order ;  in  so  far,  at  least,  as  this  has  been  possible  where  the 
+members  of  each  pair  belong  severally  to  nations  whose  his- 
+tories mingle  for  the  first  time,  when  the  activity  of  the  one 
+ceases  and  the  activity  of  the  other  begins.  In  earlier  days 
+they  had  but  dim  intimations  of  each  other's  fortunes  :  as 
+when,  in  the  Camillus^  '  the  rumour  ran  to  Greece  incon- 
+'  tinently  that  Rome  was  taken ' ;  and  it  is  only  in  the 
+Philopoemen  and  Flaminius  that  their  fates  are  trained  into  a 
+single  channel.  So  that,  rather,  there  are  balance  and  oppo- 
+sition between  the  two  halves  of  the  whole  :  the  latter  por- 
+tion being  governed  by  the  grouping  in  dramatic  sequence 
+of  the  thirteen  Romans  who  took  part  in  the  constitutional 
+drama  of  Rome  ;  whereas  the  earlier  is  as  it  were  polarised 
+about  the  history  of  Athens.  Considering  the  governing 
+lives  in  each  case,  and  disregarding  their  accidental  com- 
+panions, you  will  find  that  in  both  the  whole  pageant  is 
+displayed.  There  are  excursions,  but  in  the  latter  half  we 
+live  at  Rome ;  in  the  earlier  we  are  taken  to  Athens  :  there 
+
+1  In  North's  edition  of  1579  all  is  Plutarch,  through  Amyot,  excepting 
+the  Annibal  and  the  Scipio  African,  which  were  manufactured  by  Donate 
+Acciaiuoli  for  the  Latin   translation  of  the  Lives  published   at   Rome  by 
+Campani  in  1470. 
+xiv 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+to  be  spectators  of  her  rise,  her  glory,  and  her  fall.  We  INTRO- 
+listen  to  the  prologue  in  the  Solon  ;  and  in  the  Themistocles^  DUCTION 
+the  Pericles,  the  Alcibiades,  we  contemplate  the  three  acts  of 
+the  tragedy.  The  tragedy  of  Athens,  the  drama  of  Home  : 
+these  are  the  historic  poles  of  the  Parallel  Lives ;  while, 
+about  half-way  between,  in  the  book  of  Philopoemen  and 
+Flaminius,  is  the  historic  hinge,  at  the  fusion  of  Greek  with 
+Roman  story.  For  Philopoemen  and  Flaminius  were  con- 
+temporaries :  the  one  a  Greek  whom  '  Greece  did  love  pass- 
+*  ingly  well  as  the  last  valiant  man  she  brought  forth  in  her 
+'  age '' ;  the  other,  a  Roman  whom  she  loved  also,  Plutarch 
+tells  us,  because,  in  founding  the  suzerainty  of  Rome,  he 
+founded  it  on  the  broad  stone  of  honour.  In  this  book  the 
+balance  of  sustained  interest  shifts,  and  after  it  the  Lives 
+are  governed  to  the  end  by  the  development  of  the  single 
+Roman  drama.  We  may  say  to  the  end :  since  Plutarch 
+may  truly  be  said  to  end  with  the  suicide  of  Brutus.  The 
+Aratus,  though  of  vivid  and,  with  the  Sylla,  of  unique 
+interest — for  both  are  based  on  autobiographies  ^ — belongs, 
+it  is  thought,  to  another  book.^  This,  I  have  already  said.  Additions  and 
+is  true  of  the  Galba  and  the  OtJio,  dissevered  as  they  are  Omissions 
+by  the  obvious  division  of  a  continuous  nan'ative  ;  and  of 
+the  Artaxeroces,  which,  of  course,  has  nothing  to  do  among 
+the  Greek  and  Roman  lives ;  while  the  Hannibal  and  Scipio 
+(major),  included  by  North,  is  not  even  Plutarch.  These 
+lives,  then,  were  added,  no  doubt,  to  complete  the  defect  of 
+those  that  had  been  lost ;  as,  for  instance,  the  Metellus  pro- 
+mised by  Plutarch  in  his  Marius,  and  the  book  of  Eparni- 
+nondas  and  Scipio  (minor),  which  we  know  him  to  have 
+written,  on  the  authority  of  his  son. 
+
+If,  then,  ignoring  these  accretions,  we  study  the  physio- 
+gnomy of  the  Parallel  Lives  as  revealed  in  the  '  Table,''  the 
+national  tragedy  of  Athens  and  the  constitutional  drama  of 
+Rome  are  seen  to  stand  out  in  consecutive  presentment  from 
+its  earlier  and  latter  portions.  Each  is  at  once  apparent, 
+because  each  has  been  reconstituted  for  us.     But  the  fact 
+
+^  Freeman,  Methods  of  Historic  Study,  p.  1 68.     Mahaffy,   Greek  Life  atid 
+Thought. 
+^  A.  H.  Clough,  Plutarch's  Lives.     1883. 
+
+XV 
+
+
+INTRO- 
+DUCTION 
+
+
+The  Person- 
+ality and 
+Significance 
+of  the  Lives 
+essentially 
+Political 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+that  such  reconstitution  has  been  possible — proving,  as  it 
+does,  how  complete  was  the  unsuspected  influence  of  Plu- 
+tarch's political  temperament  over  his  conscious  selection  of 
+great  men — puts  us  in  the  way  of  tracing  this  influence  over 
+his  every  preference.  It  gives  a  key  to  one  great  chamber  in 
+his  mind,  and  a  clue  which  we  can  follow  through  the  windings 
+of  his  book.  It  makes  plain  the  fact  that  every  one  of  his 
+heroes  achieved,  or  attempted,  one  of  four  political  services 
+which  a  man  may  render  to  his  fellows.  Their  life-work  con- 
+sisted (1)  in  founding  States  ;  (2)  in  defending  them  from 
+foreign  invasion  ;  (3)  in  extending  their  dominion  ;  or  (4)  in 
+leading  political  parties  within  their  confines.  All  are,  there- 
+fore, men  who  made  history,  considered  each  one  in  relation 
+to  his  State.  In  dealing,  for  instance,  with  Demosthenes  and 
+Cicero,  Plutarch  '  will  not  confer  their  works  and  writings 
+'  of  eloquence,'  but  '  their  acts  and  deeds  in  the  government 
+'  of  the  commonwealth.''  In  this  manner,  also,  does  he  deal 
+even  with  his  'founders,'  who  can  scarce  be  called  men, 
+being  but  figures  of  legend  and  dream.  Yet  they  too 
+were  evolved  under  the  spell  of  political  prepossession  in 
+the  nations  which  conceived  their  legends ;  and  the  floating, 
+shifting  appearances,  the  '  mist  and  hum '  of  them,  are  com- 
+pacted by  a  writer  in  whom  that  prepossession  was  strongly 
+present.  That  such  airy  creatures  should  figure  at  all  as 
+historical  statesmen,  having  something  of  natural  movement 
+and  bulk,  in  itself  attests  beyond  all  else  to  this  habit  of 
+Plutarch's  mind.     Having  '  set  forth  the  lives  of  Lycurgus 
+
+*  (which  established  the  law  of  the  Lacedemonians),  and  of 
+
+*  King  Numa  Pompilius,'  he  thought  he  '  might  go  a  little 
+'  further  to  the  life  of  Romulus,'  and  '  resolved  to  match  him 
+'  which  did  set  up  the  noble  and  famous  city  of  Athens,  with 
+
+*  him  which  founded  the  glorious  and  invincible  city  of  Rome.' 
+He  is  dealing,  as  he  says,  with  matter  '  full  of  suspicion  and 
+'  doubt,  being  delivered  us  by  poets  and  tragedy  makers, 
+
+*  sometimes  without  truth  and  likelihood,  and  always  with- 
+'  out  certainty.'  He  is  dealing,  indeed,  with  shadoAvs ;  but 
+they  are  shadows  projected  backward  upon  the  mists  about 
+their  origin  by  two  nations  which  were  above  all  things 
+political ;  and  he  lends  them  a  further  semblance  of  con- 
+
+xvi 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+sistency  and  perspective,  by  regarding  them  from  a  political      INTRO- 
+point  of  view  in  the  light  of  a  later  political  experience.     His    DUCTION 
+Theseus  and  his  Romuhis  are,  indeed,  a  tissue  woven  out  of 
+folk-lore  and  the  faint  memories  of  a  savage  prime :   you  The  Folk-lore 
+shall  find  in  them  traces  of  forgotten  customs  ;  marriage  by  of  Politics 
+capture,^  for  instance,  and  much  else  that  is  frankly  beyond 
+belief;  things  which,  he  says,  '  peradventure  will  please  the 
+'  reader  better  for  their  strangeness  and  curiosity,  than  offend 
+'  or  mislike  him  for  their  falsehood.''      But  his  Lycurgus^ 
+saving  the  political  glosses,  and  his  PompiUus,  are  likewise  all 
+of  legend  and  romance  :  of  the  days  '  when  the  Aventine  was 
+'  not  inhabited,  nor  inclosed  within  the  walls  of  Rome,  but 
+'  was  full  of  springs  and  shadowed  groves,"*  the   haunt  of 
+Picus  and  Faunus,  and  of  '  Lady  Silence  "* ;  yet  he  contrives 
+to  cast  a  political  reflection  over  even  this  noiseless  dream- 
+land of  folk-lore.     Lycurgus  and  Theseus,  in  the  manner  of 
+their  deaths,  present  vague  images  of  the  fate  which  in  truth 
+befell  the  most  of  their  historic  prototypes.     Lycurgus  kills  Some  Heroes 
+himself,  not  because  his  constitution  for  Sparta  is  in  danger  of  Legend 
+but,  lest  any  should  seek  to  change  it;    and  the  bones  of 
+Theseus,  the  Athenian,  murdered  by  his  ungrateful  country- 
+men, are   magically  discovered,  and   are  brought  back  to 
+Athens  '  with  great  joye,  with  processions  and  goodly  sacri- 
+'  fices,  as  if  Theseus  himself  had  been  alive,  and  had  returned 
+'  into  the  city  again.""     As  we  read,  we  seem  to  be  dreaming 
+of  Gator's  death  at  Utica ;   and  of  Alcibiades"'  return,  when 
+the  people  who  had  banished  him  to  the  ruin  of  their  country 
+'  clustred  all  to  him  only  and  ,  .  .  put  garlands  of  flowers 
+'  upon  his  head.' 
+
+The  relation  of  the  Lives  in  the  three  other  categories 
+to  the  political  temper  of  Plutarch  and  his  age  is  more 
+obvious,  if  less  significant  of  that  temper  and  its  prevalence 
+in  every  region  of  thought.  Of  the  Romans,  Publicola  and  and  Romance 
+Coriolanus  belong  also  to  romance.  But  both  were  captains 
+in  the  first  legendary  wars  waged  by  Rome  for  supremacy  in 
+Italy  ;  and  the  lives  of  both  are  charged  with  the  hues  of 
+party  politics.     Publicola  is  painted  as  the  aristocrat  who, 
+
+*  The  marriage  of  Pirithous,  p.  62,  and  the  ravishment  of  the  Sabines, 
+
+c  xvii 
+
+
+INTRO- 
+DUCTION 
+
+
+Historic 
+
+Rome 
+
+and  Historic 
+
+Greece 
+
+Contrasted 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+by  patient  loyalty  to  the  Constitution,  lives  down  the  suspi- 
+cions of  the  populace ;  Coriolanus,  as  a  type  of  caste  at  once 
+noble  for  its  courage  and  lamentable  for  its  indomitable  pride. 
+Passing,  after  these  four,  out  of  fable  into  history,  there 
+remain  six  Romans  besides  the  thirteen  involved  in  the  cul- 
+minating drama.  Three  of  these,  Furius  Camillus,  Marcellus, 
+and  Quintus  Fabius  Maximus,  were  the  heroes  of  Rome's 
+successful  resistance  to  foreign  invasion,  and  two,  T.  Q. 
+Flaminius  and  Paulus  ^milius,  the  heroes  of  her  equally 
+successful  foreign  and  colonial  policy ;  while  one  only,  Marcus 
+Cato,  is  chosen  as  a  constitutional  politician  from  the  few 
+untroubled  years  between  the  assurance  of  empire  abroad 
+and  the  constitutional  collapse  at  home.  Turning  from 
+Italy  to  Greece,  we  find,  again,  that  after  the  two  legendary 
+founders  and  Solon,  the  more  or  less  historical  contriver 
+of  the  Athenian  constitution,  the  remainder  Greeks  without 
+exception  fall  under  one  or  more  of  the  three  other  cate- 
+gories :  they  beat  back  invasion,  or  they  sought  to  extend 
+a  suzerainty,  or  they  led  political  parties  in  pursuit  of 
+political  ideals.  Swayed  by  his  political  temperament, 
+Plutarch  exhibits  men  of  a  like  stamp  engaged  in  like  issues. 
+But,  in  passing  from  his  public  men  of  Italy  to  his  public 
+men  of  Greece,  we  may  note  that,  while  the  issues  which 
+call  forth  the  political  energies  of  the  two  nations  are  the 
+same,  a  difference  merely  in  the  order  of  event  Avorks  up  the 
+same  characters  and  the  same  situations  into  another  play 
+with  another  and  a  more  complicated  plot.  Rome  had  practi- 
+cally secured  the  headship  of  the  Italian  States  some  years 
+before  the  First  Punic  War.  Her  suzerainty  was,  therefore, 
+an  accomplished  fact,  frequently  challenged  but  never  de- 
+feated, before  the  Italian  races  were  called  upon  to  face  any 
+foe  capable  of  absorbing  their  country.  But  in  Greece, 
+neither  before  nor  after  the  Persian  invasion  did  any  one 
+State  ever  become  permanently  supreme.  So  that,  whereas, 
+in  Italy,  the  issue  of  internal  wars  and  jealousies  was  decided 
+long  before  the  danger  of  foreign  domination  had  to  be  met ; 
+in  Greece,  overshadowed  in  turn  by  the  Persian,  the  Mace- 
+donian, and  the  Roman,  that  issue  was  never  decided  at 
+all.  It  follows  that  the  history  of  Italy  is  the  history  of 
+xviii 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+Rome,  and  not  of  the  Latins  or  of  the  Samnites;  but  that      INTRO- 
+the  history  of  Greece  is,  at  first,  the  history  of  Athens,  of  DUCTION 
+Sparta,  and  of  Thebes  in  rivalry  with  one  another,  and,  at 
+last,  of  Macedon  and  Rome  brooding  over  leagues  and  con- 
+federacies between  the  lesser  islands  and  States.    The  Roman  Their 
+drama  is  single.     The  City  State  becomes  supreme  in  Italy  ;  ^?^^'^*^^^ 
+rolls  back  wave  after  wave  of  Gauls  and  Carthaginians  and     ^  erences 
+Teutons ;  extends  her  dominion  to  the  ends  of  the  earth ; 
+and  then,  suddenly,  finds  her  Constitution  shattered  by  the 
+strain  of  world-wide  empire.     Plutarch  gives  the  actors  in 
+all  these  scenes  ;  but  it  is  in  the  last,  which  is  the  most  essen-  ^ 
+
+tially  political,  that  he  crowds  his  stage  with  the  living,  and, 
+afterwards,  cumbers  it  with  the  dead.  The  Greek  drama  is 
+complex,  and  affords  no  such  opportunity  for  scenic  concen- 
+tration. Even  the  first  and  simplest  issue,  of  repelling  an  in- 
+vader, is  made  intricate  at  every  step  by  the  jealousy  between 
+Sparta  and  Athens.  Plutarch  tells  twice  over  ^  that  Them- 
+istocles,  the  Athenian,  who  had  led  the  allies  to  victory  at 
+Salamis,  proposed  to  burn  their  fleets  at  anchor  so  soon  as 
+the  danger  was  overpassed :  for  by  this  means  Athens  might 
+seize  the  supremacy  of  the  sea.  The  story  need  not  be  true: 
+that  it  should  ever  have  been  conceived  proves  in  what  spirit 
+the  Greek  States  went  into  alliance,  even  in  face  of  Persia. 
+The  lives  of  two  other  Athenians,  Cimon  and  Aristides, 
+complete  Plutarch's  picture  of  the  Persian  War ;  and  after 
+that  war  he  can  never  group  his  Greeks  on  any  single  stage. 
+Each  of  them  seeks,  indeed,  to  extend  the  influence  of  his 
+State,  or  to  further  his  political  opinions ;  but  in  the  tangle 
+of  combinations  resulting  from  their  efforts  one  feature 
+remains  unchanged  among  many  changes.  Through  all  the 
+fighting  and  the  scheming  it  is  ever  Greek  against  Greek. 
+The  history  is  a  kaleidoscope,  but  the  pieces  are  the  same. 
+That  is  the  tragedy  of  Greece  :  the  ceaseless  duel  of  the 
+few  with  the  many,  with  a  complication  of  racial  rivalries 
+between  independent  City  States.  There  is  no  climax  of 
+development,  there  is  no  sudden  failure  of  the  heart ;  but 
+an  agony  of  spasm  twitches  at  every  nerve  in  the  body  in 
+turn.  Extinction  follows  extinction  of  political  power  in 
+^  In  the  Themistocles  and  in  the  Aristides. 
+
+xix 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+INTRO-     one  State  after,  and  at  the  hands  of,  another;  and  in  the 
+DUCT  I  ON    end  there  is  a  total  edipse  of  national  life  under  the  shadow 
+of  Rome. 
+
+It  is  customary  to  date  the  political   death   of  Greece 
+from  the  battle  at   Chseronea,  in  which  the   Macedonians 
+overthrew  the  allied  armies  of  Athens  and  Thebes.     But 
+Plutarch's        to  Plutarch,  who  had  a  better,  because  a  nearer,  point  of 
+Outlook  upon  view,  the  perennial  virulence  of  race  and  opinion,   which 
+p  ?.^.  constituted  so  much  of  the  political  life  of  Greece,  went 
+
+after  Chasronea  as  merrily  as  before.  The  combatants, 
+on  whose  sky  was  but  clouded  by  the  empire  of  Alexander, 
+fought  on  into  the  night  of  Roman  rule ;  and,  when  they 
+relented,  it  was  even  then,  according  to  Plutarch,  only  from 
+sheer  exhaustion.  Explaining  the  lull  in  these  rivalries 
+during  the  old  age  of  Philopoemen,  he  writes  that  '  like  as 
+'  the  force  and  strength  of  sickness  declineth,  as  the  natural 
+'  strength  of  the  sickly  body  impaireth,  envy  of  quarrel  and 
+'  war  surceased  as  their  power  diminished.'  Of  these  Greeks, 
+other  than  the  founders  and  the  heroes  of  the  Persian  War, 
+six  were  leaders  in  the  rivalry,  first,  between  Athens  and 
+Sparta  and,  then,  between  Sparta  and  Thebes.  Of  these, 
+three  were  Athenians — Pericles,  Nicias,  and  Alcibiades  ;  two 
+were  Spartans — Lysander  and  Agesilaus ;  one  was  Pelopidas 
+the  Theban.  These  six  lives  complete  Plutarch's  picture 
+of  the  Peloponnesian  War.  Then,  still  keeping  to  Greeks 
+proper,  he  indulges  in  an  excursion  to  Syracuse  in  the  lives 
+of  Dion  and  Timoleon.  Later,  in  the  lives  of  Demosthenes 
+and  Phocion,  you  feel  the  cloud  of  the  Macedonian  Empire 
+gathering  over  Greece.  And,  lastly,  while  Rome  and  Mace- 
+don  fight  over  her  head  for  the  substance  of  dominion  and 
+political  reform,  two  kings  of  Sparta,  Agis  and  Cleomenes, 
+and  two  generals  of  the  Achaean  League,  Aratus  and  Philo- 
+poemen, are  found  still  thwarting  each  other  for  the  shadow. 
+Plutarch  shows  four  others,  not  properly  to  be  called  Greeks  : 
+the  Macedonians  Alexander  and  Demetrius,  Pyrrhus  the 
+Molossian,  and  Eumenes,  born  a  Greek  of  Cardia,  but  a 
+Macedonian  by  his  career.  These  four  come  on  the  stage  as 
+an  interlude  between  the  rivalries  of  the  Peloponnesian  War 
+and  the  last  futilities  of  the  Achaean  League.     Alexander 
+
+XX 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+for  a  time  obliterates  all  lesser  lights  ;  and  in  the  lives  of      INT'RO- 
+the  other  three  we  watch  the  flashing  train  of  his  successors.    DUCTION 
+All  are  shining  figures,  all  are  crowned,  all  are  the  greatest 
+adventurers  of  the  world ;  and  tumbling  out  of  one  kingdom 
+into  another,  they  do  battle  in  glorious  mellays  for  cities  and 
+diadems  and  Queens. 
+
+Taking  a  clue  from  the  late  reconstitution  of  the  most  Forgeries  and 
+moving  scenes  at  Athens  and  Rome,  I  follow  it  through  Interpola- 
+the  Parallel  Lives,  and  I  sketch  the  political  framework  it  ^^^^^ 
+discovers.      Into   that    framework,   which   co-extends   with 
+Plutarch's  original  conception,  I  can  fit  every  life  in  North''s 
+first  edition,  from  the  Theseus  to  the  Aratits.     1  could  not 
+overlook  so  palpable  and  so  significant  a  result  of  Plutarch's 
+political  temperament ;   and  I  must  note  it  because  it  has 
+been  overlooked,  and  even   obscured,  in  later   editions   of 
+Amyot  and  North.     Amyofs  first  and  second  editions,  of 
+1559  and  1565,  both  end  with  the  Otho,  which,  although  it 
+does  not  belong  to  the  Parallel  Lives,  was  at  least  Plutarch. 
+But  to  Amyot's  third,  of  1567,  there  were  added  the  Annibal 
+and  the  Scipion  (major),  first  fabricated  for  the  Latin  trans-  In  Latin 
+lation  of  1470  by  Donato  Acciaiuoli  and  translated  into 
+French  by  Charles  de  TEscluse,  or  de  la  Since,  as  North 
+prefers  to  call  him.     These  two  lives  North  received  into  his 
+first  edition  :  together  with  a  comparison  by  Simon  Goulards 
+Senlisien,   an   industrious    gentleman   who,   as    '  S.    G.    S.,' 
+supplied  him  with  further  material  at  a  later  date.^     For  French 
+indeed,  once  begun  in  the  first  Latin  translation,  this  process 
+of  completing  Plutarch  knew  no  bounds  for  more  than  two 
+hundred  years.    The  Spanish  historian,  Antonio  de  Guevara,  and  Spanish 
+had  perpetrated  a  decade  of  emperors,  Trajan,  Hadrian,  and 
+eight  more,  and  these,  too,  were  translated  into  French  by 
+Antoine  Allegre,  and  duly  appended  to  the  Amyot  of  1567 
+by  its  publisher  Vascosan.    All  was  fish  that  came  to  Vascosan's 
+net.    The  indefatigable  S.  G.  S.  concocted  lives  of  Augustus 
+and  Seneca ;  translated  biographies  from  Cornelius  Nepos ; 
+
+^  Professor  Skeat,  in  his  Shakespeare^  Plutarch,  leaves  the  attribution  of 
+these  initials  in  doubt.  They  have  been  taken  by  many  French  editors  of 
+Amyot  to  stand  for  B.  de  Girard,  Sieur  du  Haillan,  but  M.  de  Blignieres 
+shows  in  his  Essai  sur  Amyot,  p.  184,  that  they  stood  for  Simon  Goulard,  the 
+translator  of  Seneca. 
+
+xxi 
+
+
+INTRO- 
+DUCTION 
+
+
+North's 
+Additions 
+
+
+Rowe  and 
+Dacier 
+
+
+Simon 
+Goulard 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+and,  with  an  excellent  turn  for  symmetry,  supplied  unaided 
+all  the  Comparisons  which  are  not  to  be  found  in  Plutarch. 
+The  Chseronean  either  wrote  them,  and  they  were  lost ;  or, 
+possibly,  he  paused  before  the  scaUng  of  Caesar  and  Alex- 
+ander, content  with  the  perfection  he  had  achieved.  But 
+S.  G.  S.  knew  no  such  emban-assment ;  and  Amyofs  publisher 
+of  1583  accepted  his  contributions,  as  before,  in  the  lump. 
+North  in  his  third  edition  of  1603  is  a  little,  but  only  a 
+little,  more  fastidious  :  he  rejects  all  the  Comparisons  except, 
+oddly  enough,  that  between  Caesar  and  Alexander ;  but  on 
+the  other  hand,  he  accepts  from  S.  G.  S.  the  lives  of '  worthy 
+'  chieftains '  and  '  famous  philosophers '  ^  who — and  this  is 
+a  point — were  not,  as  all  Plutarch's  exemplars  were  before 
+everything,  public  men.  Later,  the  international  compli- 
+ment was  returned.  The  Abbe  Bellenger  translated  into 
+French  eight  lives — of  ^Eneas,  Tullus  Hostilius,  and  so 
+forth — concocted  in  English  by  Thomas  Rowe ;  and  these 
+in  their  turn  were  duly  added,  first  to  Dacier's  Plutarch 
+in  1734,  and  afterwards  to  the  Amyot  of  1783 :  an  edition 
+you  are  not  surprised  to  see  filling  a  small  bookcase.  Cele- 
+brities of  all  sorts  were  recruited,  simply  for  their  fame, 
+from  every  age,  and  from  every  field  of  performance — 
+Plato,  Aristotle,  Philip,  even  Charlemagne !  ^  And  the 
+process  of  obscuring  Plutarch's  method  did  not  end  with  the 
+interjection  of  spurious  stuflF.  Men  cut  down  the  genuine 
+Lives  to  convenient  lengths,  for  summaries  and  '  treasuries,"* 
+The  undefeated  S.  G.  S.  covered  the  margin  of  one  edition 
+after  another  ^vith  reflections  tending  to  edification.  He  and 
+his  kind  epitomised  Plutarch's  matter  and  pointed  his  moral, 
+grinding  them  to  the  dust  of  a  classical  dictionary  and  the 
+ashes  of  a  copybook  headline.  All  these  editions  and  epi- 
+tomes and  maxims,  being  none  of  Plutarch's,  should  not,  of 
+course,  in  reason  have  darkened  his  restriction  on  the  choice 
+of  great  men.  Yet  by  their  number  and  their  vogue,  they 
+have  so  darkened  it ;  and  the  more  easily,  for  that  Plutarch, 
+
+^  Letter  of  dedication  to  Queen  Elizabeth.     Ed.  1631,  p.  1108. 
+
+2  Fabricated  also  by  Acciaiuoli  for  Campani's  Latin  edition  of  1470,  and 
+attributed  to  Plutarch   by  an   erudite   calling   himself  Viscellius.      Amyot 
+himself  fabricated  the  lives  of  Epaminondas  and  Scipio  (minor)  at  the  request 
+of  Marguerite  of  Savoye,  but  never  published  them  as  Plutarch. 
+xxii 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+as  I  have  shown,  says  nothing  of  the  limit  he  observed.  INTRO- 
+Beneath  these  additions  the  political  framework  of  the  Lives  DUCTION 
+lay  buried  for  centuries ;  and  even  after  they  had  been  dis- 
+carded by  later  translators,  it  was  still  shrouded  in  the  mist 
+they  had  exhaled.  Banish  the  additions  and  their  atmo- 
+sphere— fit  only  for  puritans  and  pedants — and  once  more 
+the  political  framework  emerges  in  all  its  significance  and 
+in  all  its  breadth. 
+
+From  this  effect  we  cannot  choose  but  turn  to  the  causa  Plutarch's 
+causans — the  mind  that  achieved  it.  We  want  to  know  the  Mind 
+political  philosophy  of  a  writer  who,  being  a  student  of 
+human  character,  yet  held  it  unworthy  his  study  save  in 
+public  men.  And  the  curiosity  will,  as  I  think,  be  sharpened 
+rather  than  rebated  by  the  reflection  that  many  of  his  com- 
+mentators have,  none  the  less,  denied  him  any  political  insight 
+at  all.^  Their  paradox  plucks  us  by  the  sleeve.  From  a 
+soil  thus  impregnated  with  the  salt  of  political  instinct  one 
+would  have  looked  in  the  harvest  for  some  savour  of  political 
+truth ;  yet  one  is  told  that  the  Lives,  fruitful  of  all  besides, 
+are  barren  of  this.  For  my  part,  I  must  believe  that  Plut- 
+arch's commentators  have  been  led  to  a  false  conclusion  His  Com- 
+along  one  of  two  paths :  either  they  have  listened  too  mentators 
+innocently  to  his  avowed  intention  of  portraying  only  char- 
+acter, and  have  been  confirmed  in  their  error  by  the  indis- 
+criminate additions  to  his  work ;  or,  perceiving  his  exclusive 
+choice  of  politicians,  they  have  still  declined  to  recognise 
+political  wisdom  in  an  unexpected  shape.  In  a  work  which 
+is  constituted,  albeit  without  intention,  upon  lines  thus 
+definitely  political,  one  might  have  looked  for  many  direct 
+pronouncements  of  political  opinion.  Yet  in  that  expecta- 
+tion one  is  deceived — as  I  think,  happily.  For  Plutarch's 
+methods,  at  least  in  respect  of  politics  and  war,  are  not  those 
+
+^  Plutarch.  Five  Lectures,  p.  89.  Paul-Louis  Courier  and  many  others 
+have  written  to  the  same  effect,  questioning  Plutarch's  accuracy  and  insight. 
+On  the  question  of  accuracy,  I  am  content  to  quote  Ste.-Beuve,  Causeries 
+du  Lutidi,  vi.  333  :  '  Quand  on  a  fait  la  part  du  rheteur  et  du  pretre 
+d'Apollon  en  lui,  il  reste  une  bien  plus  large  part  encore,  ce  me  semble,  au 
+coUecteur  attentif  et  consciencieux  des  moindres  traditions  sur  les  grands 
+hommes,  au  peintre  abondant  et  curieux  de  la  nature  humaine ' :  and  to  refer 
+to  Freeman,  Methods  of  Historical  Study ,  pp.  167,  168,  184. 
+
+xxiii 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+
+His  Methods 
+and  Effects 
+
+
+His  Aspasia 
+
+
+INTRO-  of  analysis  or  of  argument,  but  of  pageant  and  of  drama, 
+DUCTION  with  actors  living  and  mo\ing  against  a  background  of 
+processions  that  move  and  live.  With  all  the  world  for  his 
+stage,  he  shakes  oft'  the  habit  of  the  lecture-hall,  and  it  is  only 
+now  and  again  that,  stepping  before  the  curtain,  he  ^vill 
+speak  a  prologue  in  a  preface,  or  turn  chorus  to  comment 
+a  space  upon  the  play.  Mostly  he  is  absorbed  in  presenting 
+his  heroes  as  they  fought  and  as  they  fell ;  in  unfolding,  in 
+scene  after  scene,  his  theatriim  of  stirring  life  and  majestical 
+death,  I  cannot  deny  his  many  digressions  on  matters 
+religious,  moral,  philosophical,  and  social ;  and  it  may  be 
+that  their  very  number,  accentuating  the  paucity  of  his 
+political  pronouncements,  has  emphasised  the  view  with 
+which  I  cannot  concur.  Doubtless  they  are  there ;  nor  can 
+I  believe  that  any  would  wish  them  away.  It  is  interesting 
+to  hear  the  Pythagorean  view  of  the  solar  system ;  ^  and  it 
+is  charming  to  be  told  the  gossip  about  Aspasia  ^  and  Dion- 
+ysius  2  after  his  fall.  In  the  Pericles^  for  instance,  Plutarch 
+pauses  at  the  first  mention  of  Aspasia's  name :  thinking  it 
+'  no  great  digression  of  our  storie,  to  tell  you  '  by  the  way 
+what  manner  of  woman  she  was.''  So 'he  tells  you  what 
+manner,  and,  after  the  telling,  excuses  himself  once  more ; 
+since,  as  he  says,  it  came  '  in  my  minde  :  and  me  thought  I 
+'  should  have  dealt  hardly,  if  I  should  have  left  it  unwritten,'' 
+His  Dionysius  Who  will  resent  such  compassion?  Vfho  so  immersed  in  aff'airs 
+as  to  die  in  willing  ignorance  of  the  broken  man  who  seemed 
+to  be  a  *  starke  nideotte,''  with  a  turn  for  low  life  and  repartee  ? 
+Plutarch  can'ies  all  before  him  when  he  says  :  '  methinks  these 
+'  things  I  have  intermingled  concerning  Dionysius,  are  not 
+'  impertinent  to  the  description  of  our  Lives,  neither  are  they 
+'  troublesome  nor  unprofitable  to  the  hearei-s,  unless  they 
+'  have  other  hasty  business  to  let  or  trouble  them,"*  He  is 
+irresistible  in  this  vein,  which,  by  its  lightness,  leads  one  to 
+believe  that  some  of  the  lives,  like  some  modern  essays,  were 
+first  delivered  before  popular  audiences,  and  then  collected 
+with  others  conceived  in  a  graver  key.    There  are  many  such 
+
+^  Numa  Pompilius  :  marred  in  North  by  a  mistranslation.     In  the  original 
+it  approximates  to  the  Copernican  rather  than  to  the  Ptolemaic  theory. 
+-  Pericles.  ^  Timoleon. 
+
+xxiv 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+digressions.  But,  just  because  his  heroes  are  all  politicians,  INTRO- 
+of  long  political  pronouncements  there  are  few :  even  as  of  DUCTION 
+comments  on  the  art  of  war  you  shall  find  scarce  one,  for  the 
+reason  that  strategy  and  tactics  are  made  plain  on  a  hundred 
+fields.  His  politicians  and  captains  speak  and  fight  for 
+themselves.  It  is  for  his  readers,  if  they  choose,  to  gather 
+political  wisdom  from  (say)  his  lives  of  the  aforesaid  thirteen 
+Romans ;  even  as,  an  they  will,  they  may  deduce  from  the 
+Themistocles  or  the  Pojiipey  the  completeness  of  his  grasp 
+upon  the  latest  theories  on  the  command  of  the  sea. 
+
+Yet  there  are  exceptions,  though  rare  ones,  to  his  rule ; 
+and  in  questioning  the  political  bent  of  his  mind  we  are  not 
+left  to  inference  alone.  In  the  Lycurgus^  for  instance,  where 
+the  actor  is  but  a  walking  shadow,  Plutarch  must  needs  deal  His  Political 
+with  the  system  associated  with  Lycurgus"'s  name  :  so  in  this  Ideals 
+life  we  have  the  theory  of  politics  which  Plutarch  favoured, 
+whereas  in  the  Pericles  we  have  the  practice  of  a  consummate 
+politician.  From  the  Lycurgus^  then,  we  are  able  to  gauge 
+the  personal  equation  (so  to  say)  of  the  mind  which,  in  the 
+Pericles,  must  have  coloured  that  mind's  presentment  of 
+political  action  and  debate.  Plutarch,  like  Plato  before  him, 
+is  a  frank  admirer  of  the  laws  which  Lycurgus  is  said  to 
+have  framed.  He  delights  in  that  '  perfectest  manner  of 
+'  a  commonwealth ''  which  made  the  city  of  Lycurgus  '  the 
+'  chiefest  of  the  world,  in  glory  and  honour  of  government, 
+'  by  the  space  of  five  hundred  years."*  He  tells  of  the  law- 
+giver''s  journey  from  Crete  to  Asia,  to  compare  the  '  policy 
+'  of  those  of  Crete  (being  then  very  straight  and  severe)  with 
+'  the  superfluities  and  vanities  of  Ionia '' ;  and  you  may  gather 
+from  the  context  that  the  one  appears  to  the  historian  'whole 
+'  and  healthful,'  the  others  'sick  and  diseased.'  He  seems  also 
+to  approve  Lycurgus's  indiscriminate  contempt  for  all'super- 
+'  fluous  and  unprofitable  sciences  "* ;  for  the  devices  of '  licorous 
+'  cooks  to  cram  themselves  in  corners,'  of  '  rhetoricians  who 
+'  teach  eloquence  and  the  cunning  cast  of  lying,'  of  goldsmiths 
+and  fortune-tellers  and  panders.  Again,  it  is  Avith  satisfac- 
+tion that  he  paints  his  picture  of  Lycurgus  returning  '  home 
+'  one  day  out  of  the  fields  .  .  .  laughing '  as  he  '  saw  the 
+'  number  of  sheaves  in  shocks  together  and   no  one  shock 
+
+d  XXV 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+
+INTRO- 
+DUCTION 
+
+
+bigger 
+
+
+His  Prefer- 
+ence for  the 
+Born  Ruler 
+
+
+than  another ' ;  all  Laconia  being  '  as  it  were  an 
+inheritance  of  many  brethren,  who  had  newly  made  parti- 
+tion together/  But  if  Plutarch  approves  the  suppression 
+of  luxury  and  the  equal  distribution  of  wealth  as  ideals,  he 
+does  not  approve  the  equal  distribution  of  power.  He  is  in 
+favour  of  constitutional  republics  and  opposed  to  hereditary 
+monarchies ;  though  he  will  tolerate  even  these  in  coun- 
+tries where  they  already  exist.^  But  he  is  for  republics  and 
+against  monarchies  only  that  the  man  '  born  to  rule '  may 
+have  authority  :  such  a  man,  for  instance,  as  Lycurgus, 
+'  born  to  rule,  to  command,  and  to  give  orders,  as  having  in 
+'  him  a  certain  natural  grace  and  power  to  draw  men  will- 
+'  w?^^3/  to  obey  him.''  In  any  State,  he  postulates,  on  the  one 
+hand,  an  enduring  Constitution  and  a  strong  Senate  of  proved 
+men  ;  on  the  other,  a  populace  with  equal  political  rights  of 
+electing  to  the  Senate  and  of  sanctioning  the  laws  that  Senate 
+may  propose.  Yet  these  in  themselves  are  but  preliminary 
+conditions  of  liberty  and  order.  Besides,  for  the  preservation 
+of  a  State  there  are  needed  rulers  few  and  fit,  armed  with 
+enough  authority  and  having  courage  enough  to  wield  it.  It 
+is  essential  that  the  few,  who  are  fit,  shall  direct  and  govern 
+the  many,  who  are  not.  If  authority  be  impaired,  whether 
+by  incompetence  in  the  few  or  through  jealousy  in  the  many, 
+then  must  disaster  follow.  Now,  many  who  hold  this  view 
+are  prone,  when  disaster  does  follow,  to  blame  the  folly  of 
+the  many  rather  than  the  unfitness  of  the  few.  But  Plutarch 
+is  distinguished  in  this  :  that,  holding  the  view  as  firmly  as 
+any  have  held  it — now  preaching  the  gospel  of  authority  and 
+now  exhibiting  its  proof  at  every  turn — he  yet  imputes  the 
+His  Theory  of  blame  of  failure,  almost  always,  to  incompetence  or  to  cow- 
+Culpability  ardice  in  the  few.  '  He  that  directeth  well  must  needs  be 
+'  well  obeyed.  For  like  as  the  art  of  a  good  rider  is  to  make 
+'  his  horse  gentle  and  ready  at  commandment,  even  so  the 
+'  chiefest  point  belonging  to  a  prince  is  to  teach  his  people 
+'  to  obey.'  I  take  these  words  from  the  Lycurgus.  They 
+set  forth  Plutarch's  chief  political  doctrine ;  and  the  state- 
+ment of  fact  is  pointed  with  his  favourite  image.  That  the 
+horse  (or  the  many)  should  play  the  antic  at  will,  is  to  him 
+^  Comparison  of  Demetrius  with  Antonitis. 
+
+xxvi 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+plainly  absurd  :  the  horse  must  be  ridden,  and  the  many  must  INTRO- 
+be  directed  and  controlled.  Yet,  if  the  riding,  or  the  govern-  DUCTION 
+ing,  prove  a  failure,  Plutarch"'s  quarrel  is  with  the  ruler  and 
+the  horseman,  not  with  the  people  or  the  mount.  For  he 
+knows  well  that  '  a  ragged  colt  oftimes  proves  a  good  horse, 
+*  specially  if  he  be  well  ridden  and  broken  as  he  should  be.'  ^  His  Favourite 
+This  is  but  one  of  his  innumerable  allusions  to  horse-break-  Image 
+ing  and  hunting  :  as,  for  instance,  in  the  Paulus  JEmilius,  he 
+includes  '  riders  of  horses  and  hunts  of  Greece '  among  painters 
+and  gravers  of  images,  grammarians  and  rhetoricians,  as  the 
+proper  Greek  tutors  for  completing  the  education  of  a  Roman 
+moving  with  the  times.  And  no  one  who  takes  note  of  these 
+allusions  can  doubt  that,  as  one  of  a  chivalrous  and  sporting 
+race,  he  was  qualified  to  deal  with  images  drawn  from  the 
+manege  and  the  chase.  As  little  can  any  one  who  follows 
+his  political  drama  miss  the  application  of  these  images. 
+Sometimes,  indeed,  his  constant  theme  and  his  favomite  image 
+almost  seem  fused  :  as  when  he  describes  the  natural  grace 
+of  his  Cassar,  '  so  excellent  a  rider  of  horse  from  his  youth, 
+'  that  holding  his  hands  behind  him,  he  would  galop  his 
+'  horse  upon  the  spur '' ;  a  governor  so  ever  at  one  with  those 
+he  governed,  that  he  directed  even  his  charger  by  an  inflexion 
+of  his  will  rather  than  of  his  body.  This  need  of  autho- 
+rity and  the  obligation  on  the  few  to  maintain  it — by 
+a  '  natural  grace,'  springing,  on  the  one  hand,  from  courage 
+combined  with  forbearance  ;  and  leading,  on  the  other,  to 
+harmony  between  the  rulers  and  the  ruled — is  the  text 
+which,  given  out  in  the  Lycurgus,  is  illustrated  thi'oughout 
+the  Parallel  Lives. 
+
+I  have  said  that,  apart   from    the   Lycnrgus,  Plutarch's  His  Philo- 
+political    pronouncements   are  to  be   found    mostly  in  the  sophy  of 
+prefaces  to  certain  '  books '  and  in  scattered  comments  on  Harmony 
+such  action  as  he  displays.     And  of  all  these  '  books '  the 
+Pericles  and  Fahius   Maximus   is,  perhaps,  the   richest  in 
+pronouncements,  in  both  its  preface  and  its  body,  all  bearing 
+on  his  theory  of  authority  and  on  its  maintenance  by  '  natural 
+grace.'     A  '  harmony '  is  to  be  aimed  at ;  but  a  harmony 
+in  the  Dorian  mode.    Pericles  is  commended  because  in  later 
+^  Themistodes. 
+
+xxvii 
+
+
+INTRO- 
+DUCTION 
+
+
+The  Greatness 
+of  Pericles 
+
+
+and  Fabius 
+Maximus 
+
+
+A  Result 
+of  this 
+Harmony 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+life  '  he  was  wont  .  .  .  not  so  easily  to  grant  to  ail  the 
+'  people's  wills  and  desires,  no  more  than  as  it  were  to 
+*  contrary  winds.'  In  Plutarch's  eyes  he  did  well  when  '  he 
+'  altered  his  over-gentle  and  popular  manner  of  government 
+'  ...  as  too  delicate  and  effeminate  an  harmony  of  music, 
+'  and  did  convert  it  into  an  imperious  government,  or  rather 
+'  a  kingly  authority.'  He  has  nothing  but  praise  for  the  in- 
+dependence and  fortitude  by  which  Pericles  achieved  Caesar's 
+policy  of  uniting  within  himself  all  the  yearly  offices  of  the 
+State,  '  not  for  a  little  while,  nor  in  a  gear  (fashion)  of 
+'  favour,'  but  for  '  forty  years  together.'  He  compares  him 
+to  the  captain  of  a  ship  '  not  hearkening  to  the  passengers' 
+'  fearful  cries  and  pitiful  tears,'  and  holds  him  up  for  an 
+example,  since  he  '  neither  would  be  persuaded  by  his  friends' 
+'  earnest  requests  and  entreaties,  neither  cared  for  his  enemies' 
+'  threats  and  accusations  against  him,  nor  yet  reckoned  of  all 
+'  their  foolish  scoffing  songs  they  sung  of  him  in  the  city.' 
+So,  too,  in  the  same  book,  when  Plutarch  comes  to  portray 
+Fabius  Maximus,  he  gives  us  that  great  man's  view :  that 
+'  to  be  afeard  of  the  wagging  of  every  straw,  or  to  regard 
+'  every  common  prating,  is  not  the  part  of  a  worthy  man  of 
+'  charge,  but  rather  of  a  base-minded  person,  to  seek  to  please 
+'  those  whom  he  ought  to  command  and  govern,  because 
+'  they  are  but  fools.'  (Thus  does  bkmt  Sir  Thomas  render 
+Amyot's  polite,  but  equally  sound,  ^ parce  qiCils  ne  sont  pas 
+'  sages.'')  But  the  independence  and  the  endurance  neces- 
+sary in  a  ruler  are  not  to  be  accompanied  by  irritation  or 
+contempt.  "Wliile  '  to  flatter  the  common  people '  is  at  best 
+'  effeminate,'  and  at  worst  '  the  broad  high- way  of  them  that 
+'  practise  tyranny,'  ^  still, '  he  is  less  to  be  blamed  that  seeketh 
+'  to  please  and  gratify  his  common  people  than  he  that  de- 
+'  spiseth  and  disdaineth  them ' ;  for  here  is  no  harmony  at 
+all,  but  discord.  The  words  last  quoted  are  from  the  Com- 
+parison between  Alcibiades  and  Coriolanus,  two  heroes  out 
+of  tune  with  their  countrymen,  whose  courage  and  independ- 
+ence were  made  thereby  of  no  avail.  But  in  the  Pericles  and 
+Fabius  Maximus  Plutarch  shows  us  heroes  after  his  o^vn 
+heart,  and  in  his  preface  to  their  lives  he  insists  more  ex- 
+^  Furius  Camilhis. 
+
+xxviii 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+plicitly  than  elsewhere  on  the  need  of  not  only  courage  and      INTRO- 
+independence  but  also  forbearance  and  goodwill ;  since  with-    DUCTION 
+out  these,  their  complements,  the  other  virtues,  are  sterile. 
+Pericles  and  Fabius,  being  at  least  as  proud  and  brave  as  Three 
+Alcibiades  and  Coriolanus,  '  for  tliat  they  would  patiently  Contrasts 
+'  bear  the  follies  of  their  people  and  companions  that  were 
+'  in  charge  of  government  with  them,  were  marvellous  profit- 
+'  able  members  for  their  country."'    He  returns  to  this  theory 
+of  harmony  in  his  preface  to  the  Phocion  and  Cato.     In 
+every  instance  he  assumes  as  beyond  dispute,  that  the  few 
+must  govern,  working  an  obedience  in  the  many ;  but  they 
+are  to  work  it  by  a  'natural  grace'  of  adaptation  to  the 
+needs  and  natures  they  command.     In  this  very  book   he 
+blames  Cato  of  Utica,  not  for  the  '  ancient  simplicity  '  of  his 
+manner,  which  'was  indeed  praiseworthy,"*  but,  simply  be- 
+cause it  was  '  not  the  convenientest,  nor  the  fittest '  for  him  ; 
+for  that  '  it  ansAvered  nor  respected  not  the  use  and  manners 
+'  of  his  time."" 
+
+How  comes  it  to  pass  that  Plutarch"'s  heroes,  being  thus  The  Practice 
+prone  to  compromise,  yet  fight  and  die,  often  at  their  own  ^"^  Theory  of 
+hands,  for  the  ideals  they  uphold  ?  The  question  is  a  fair  ^lUf"  ^ 
+one,  and  the  answer  reveals  a  profound  difference  between 
+the  theory  and  the  practice  of  politics  approved  by  the 
+ancient  world  and  the  theory  and  the  practice  of  politics 
+approved  in  the  England  of  to-day.  '  The  good  and  ill,"* 
+says  Plutarch,  '  do  nothing  differ  but  in  mean  and  medio- 
+'  crity."*  We  might  therefore  expect  in  his  heroes  a  reluc- 
+tance to  sacrifice  all  for  a  difference  of  degree ;  and  especially 
+might  we  suppose  that,  after  deciding  an  equipoise  so  nice  as 
+that  between  'authority  and  lenity,'  his  governors  would  stake 
+little  on  their  decision.  But  in  a  world  of  adjustment  and 
+doubt  they  are  all  for  compromise  in  theory,  while  in  action 
+they  are  extreme.  They  are  ready  in  spite,  almost  because, 
+of  that  doubt,  to  seal  with  their  blood  such  certainty  as  they 
+can  attain.  His  statesmen,  inasmuch  as  they  do  respect 
+'  the  use  and  manners '  of  their  time,  endure  all  things  while 
+they  live,  and  at  last  die  quietly,  not  for  an  abstract  idea  or 
+a  sublime  emotion,  but  for  the  compromise  of  their  day  : 
+though    they  know   it   for   a   compromise,  and   foresee  its 
+
+xxix 
+
+
+INTRO- 
+DUCTION 
+
+
+Our  Own 
+
+
+Some  Con- 
+stants of  the 
+Problem 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+inevitable  destruction.  They  have  no  enthusiasm,  and  no 
+ecstasy.  Uninspired  from  without,  and  self-gathered  within, 
+they  live  their  lives,  or  lay  them  down,  for  the  use  and  wont 
+of  their  country.  In  reading  their  history  an  Englishman 
+cannot  but  be  struck  by  the  double  contrast  between  these 
+tendencies  of  theory  and  action  and  the  tendencies  of  theory 
+and  action  finding  favour  in  England  now.  Ever  extreme 
+in  theory,  we  are  all  for  compromise  in  fact;  proud  on 
+the  one  score  of  our  sincerity,  on  the  other  of  our  common- 
+sense.  We  are  fanatics,  who  yet  decline  to  persecute, 
+still  less  to  suffer,  for  our  faith.  And  this  temperance  of 
+behaviour,  following  hard  on  the  violent  utterance  of 
+belief,  is  apt  to  show  something  irrational  and  tame.  The 
+actor  stands  charged,  often  unjustly,  with  a  lack  of  both 
+logic  and  courage.  The  Greeks,  on  the  other  hand,  who 
+found  '  truth  in  a  union  of  opposites  and  the  aim  of  life  in 
+'  its  struggle,'  ^  and  the  Romans,  who  aped  their  philosophy 
+and  outdid  their  deeds,  are  not,  in  Plutarch^'s  pages,  open  to 
+this  disparagement.  They  live  or  die  for  their  faiths  as 
+they  found  them,  and  so  appear  less  extravagant  and  more 
+brave.  The  temper  is  illustrated  again  and  again  by  the 
+manner  in  which  they  observe  his  doctrine,  that  rulers  must 
+maintain  their  authority,  and  at  the  same  time  '  bear  the 
+'  follies  of  their  people  and  companions  that  are  in  charge 
+'  of  government  with  them."*  To  read  the  Pericles  or  the 
+Pompeius,  the  Julius  CcBsar  or  the  Cato,  is  to  feel  that  a 
+soldier  may  as  well  complain  of  bullets  in  a  battle  as  a  states- 
+man of  stupidity  in  his  colleagues.  These  are  constants  of 
+the  problem.  Only  on  such  terms  are  fighting  and  ruling  to 
+be  had.  So,  too,  with  'the  people "*:  with  the  many,  that 
+is,  who  have  least  chance  of  understanding  the  game,  least 
+voice  in  its  conduct,  least  stake  in  its  success.  If  these 
+forget  all  but  yesterday's  service,  if  they  look  only  for  to- 
+morrow's reward,  the  hero  is  not  therefore  to  complain. 
+This  short-lived  memory  and  this  short-sighted  imagination 
+are  constants  also.  They  are  regular  fences  in  the  course  he 
+has  set  himself  to  achieve.  He  must  clear  them  if  he  can,  and 
+fall  if  he  cannot ;  but  he  must  never  complain.  They  are  con- 
+^  Tke  Moral  Ideal,  Julia  Wedgwood,  p.  82. 
+XXX 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+ditions  of  success,  not  excuses  for  failure;  and  to  name  INTRO- 
+them  is  to  be  ridiculous.  The  Plutarchian  hero  never  does  DUCTION 
+name  them.  He  is  obstinate,  but  not  querulous.  He  cares 
+only  for  the  State ;  he  insists  on  saving  it  in  his  own  way ; 
+he  kills  himself,  if  other  counsels  prevail.  But  he  never 
+complains,  and  he  offers  no  explanations.  Living,  he  prefers 
+action  before  argument ;  dying,  he  chooses  drama  rather  than 
+defence.  While  he  has  hope,  he  acts  like  a  great  man  ;  and 
+when  hope  ceases,  he  dies  like  a  great  actor.  He  and  his 
+fellows  seek  for  some  compromise  between  authority  and 
+lenity,  and,  having  found  it,  they  maintain  it  to  the  end. 
+They  are  wise  in  taking  thought,  and  sublime  in  taking 
+action  :  whereas  now,  we  are  courageous  in  our  theories,  but 
+exceeding  cautious  in  our  practice.  Yet  who  among  modern 
+politicians  will  say  that  Plutarch's  men  were  in  the  wrong .'' 
+Who,  hoarse  ^vith  shouting  against  the  cataract  of  circum- 
+stance, will  dare  reprove  the  dumb-show  of  their  lives  and 
+deaths  ? 
+
+I  have  shown  from  the  Li/curgus,  from  the  prefaces  to  Plutarch's 
+the  Pericles  and  the  PJiociOTi,  and  from  scattered  com-  Political 
+ments  elsewhere,  that  Plutarch  has  something  to  say  upon  jyyJIliy 
+politics  which,  whether  we  agree  with  him  or  not,  is  at  least  Ordered 
+worthy  our  attention.  There  is  yet  an  occasion  of  one  other 
+kind — which  he  takes,  I  think,  only  twice — for  speaking 
+his  own  mind  upon  politics.  After  the  conclusion  of  a  long 
+series  of  events,  ending,  for  instance,  in  the  rule  of  Rome 
+over  Greece,  or  in  the  substitution  of  the  Empire  for  the 
+Republic,  he  assembles  these  conclusions,  at  first  sight  to  him 
+unreasonable  and  unjust,  and  seeks  to  interpret  them  in  the 
+light  of  divine  wisdom  and  justice.  Now,  he  was  nearer  than 
+we  are  to  the  two  great  sequences  I  have  denoted,  by  seven- 
+teen centm'ies  :  he  lived,  we  may  say,  in  a  world  which  they 
+had  created  anew.  And  whereas  he  took  in  all  political 
+questions  a  general  interest  so  keen  that  it  has  coloiu'ed  the 
+whole  of  a  work  not  immediately  addressed  to  politics,  in 
+these  two  sequences  his  interest  was  particular  and  personal : 
+in  the  first  because  of  his  patriotism,  and  in  the  second  be- 
+cause of  his  familiar  converse  with  the  best  in  Rome.  We 
+are  happy,  then,  in  the  judgment  of  such  a  critic  on  the  two 
+
+xxxi 
+
+
+INTRO- 
+DUCTION 
+
+
+His  Accept- 
+ance of  the 
+Sovranty  of 
+Rome 
+
+
+For  the  Sake 
+of  Roman 
+Virtue 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+greatest  political  dramas  enacted  in  the  ancient  world.  The 
+human — I  might  say  the  pathetic — interest  of  the  treatment 
+accorded  by  the  patriotic  Greek  to  the  growth  of  Roman 
+dominion  and  its  final  extension  over  the  Hellenistic  East, 
+will  absorb  the  attention  of  many.  But  it  offers,  besides,  as 
+I  think,  although  this  has  been  questioned,  much  of  political 
+wisdom.  In  any  case,  on  the  one  count  or  upon  the  other, 
+I  feel  bound  to  indicate  the  passages  in  which  he  comments 
+on  these  facts.  We  are  not  in  doubt  as  to  his  general  views 
+on  Imperial  aggression  and  a  '  forward  policy.'  After  noting 
+that  the  Romans  forsook  the  peaceful  precepts  of  Numa, 
+and  '  filled  all  Italy  with  murder  and  blood,""  he  imagines 
+one  saying  :  '  But  hath  not  Rome  excelled  still,  and  prevailed 
+'  more  and  more  in  chivalry  .? ""  And  he  replies  :  ^  '  This  ques- 
+'  tion  requireth  a  long  answer,  and  especially  unto  such  men 
+'  as  place  felicity  in  riches,  in  possessing  and  in  the  greatness 
+'  of  empire,  rather  than  in  quiet  safety,  peace  and  concord  of 
+'  a  common  weal.''  For  his  part  he  thought  with  Lycurgus,^ 
+that  a  city  should  not  seek  to  command  many  ;  but  that '  the 
+'  felicity  of  a  city,  as  of  a  private  man,  consisted  chiefly  in 
+'  the  exercise  of  virtue,  and  the  unity  of  the  inhabitants 
+'  thereof,  and  that  the  citizens  should  be  nobly  minded 
+'  (Amyot :  francs  de  cueiirs),  content  with  their  own,  and 
+'  temperate  in  their  doings  {attrempez  en  tous  leurs  faicts\ 
+'  that  thereby  they  might  maintain  and  keep  themselves  long 
+'  in  safety.'  But,  holding  this  general  opinion,  and  biassed 
+into  the  bargain  by  his  patriotism,  he  cannot  relate  the 
+stories  of  Aratus  and  Philopoemen  on  the  one  hand,  or  of 
+Flaminius  and  Lucullus  on  the  other,  without  accepting 
+the  conclusion  that  the  rule  of  Rome  was  at  last  necessary 
+for  the  rational  and  just  government  of  the  world  ;  and, 
+therefore,  was  inevitably  ordained  by  the  Divine  wisdom. 
+Rome  '  increased  and  grew  strong  by  arms  and  continual 
+'  wars,  like  as  piles  driven  into  the  ground,  which  the  more  they 
+'  are  rammed  in  the  further  they  enter  and  stick  the  faster^  ^ 
+For  it  was  by  obedience  and  self-restraint,  by  a  '  yielding 
+'  unto  reason  and  virtue  "*  that  the  *  Romans  came  to  com- 
+
+
+Comparhon  of  Lycurgus  with  Numa  Pompilius. 
+Lycurgus.  ^  Numa  Pompilius. 
+
+
+XXXll 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+'  mand  all  other  and  to  make  themselves  the  mightiest  INTRO- 
+'  people  of  the  world/  ^  In  Greece  he  finds  nothing  of  this  DUCTION 
+obedience  and  this  self-restraint ;  nothing  but  rivalry  be- 
+tween leaders  and  jealousy  between  States.  Cleomenes,  the 
+Spartan  king,  Aratus  and  Philopcemen,  both  leaders  of  the 
+Achaean  League,  are  among  the  last  of  his  Greek  heroes.  He 
+lingers  over  them  lovingly  ;  yet  it  is  Aratus  who,  in  jealousy 
+of  Cleomenes,  brings  Antigonus  and  his  Macedonians  into 
+Greece ;  and  it  is  Flaminius,  the  Roman,  who  expels  them. 
+In  this  act  some  modern  critics  have  seen  only  one  of 
+many  cloaks  for  a  policy  of  calculated  aggression,  but  it  is 
+well  to  remember  for  what  it  is  worth  that  Plutarch,  the 
+Greek  patriot,  saw  in  it  simply  the  act  of  a  'just  and  com--  As  Opposed  to 
+'  teous  gentleman,"*  and  that,  according  to  him,  the  '  only  the  Selfish- 
+'  cause  of  the  utter  destruction  of  Greece '  must  be  sought  "^^^  ^"^  *^® 
+earlier :  when  Aratus  preferred  the  Macedonians  before  ofGreece ^^'^ 
+allowing  Cleomenes  a  first  place  in  the  Achaean  League. 
+In  the  Cimon  and  Lucullus^  even  after  Greece  became  a 
+Roman  province,  he  shows  the  same  rivalries  on  a  smaller 
+scale.  The  *  book  "*  opens  with  a  story  which,  with  a  few 
+changes,  mostly  of  names,  might  be  set  in  the  Ireland  of  a 
+hundred  years  ago.  One  Damon,  an  antique  Rory  of  the 
+Hills,  after  just  provocation,  collects  a  band  of  moonlighters 
+who,  with  blackened  faces,  set  upon  and  murder  a  Roman 
+captain.  The  town  council  of  Chaeronea  condemns  Damon 
+and  his  companions  to  death,  in  proof  of  its  own  innocence, 
+and  is  murdered  for  its  pains.  At  last  Damon  himself  is 
+enticed  into  a  bathhouse,  and  killed.  Then  the  Orchome- 
+nians,  'being  near  neighbours  unto  the  Chaeroneans,  and 
+'  therefore  their  enemies,''  hire  an  '  informer  "*  to  accuse  all  the 
+Chaeroneans  of  complicity  in  the  original  murder ;  and  it  is 
+only  the  just  testimony  of  the  Roman  general,  Lucullus,  who 
+chances  to  be  marching  by,  which  saves  the  town  from 
+punishment.  An  image  is  set  up  to  Lucullus  which  Plutarch 
+has  seen ;  and  even  to  his  day  '  terrible  voices  and  cries  "*  are 
+heard  by  the  neighbours  from  behind  the  walled-up  door  of 
+the  bathhouse,  in  which  Damon  had  died.  He  knows  the 
+whole  story  from  his  childhood,  and  knows  that  in  this  small 
+^  Paulus  ALiniluis. 
+
+e  xxxiii 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+INTRO-      matter  Lucullus  showed  the  same  justice  and  courtesy  which 
+DUCTION   Flaminius  had  displayed  in  a  gi'eat  one.     For  it  is  only  the 
+strong  who  can  be  just ;  and  therefore  to  the  strong  there 
+falls  in  the  end,  without  appeal,  the  reward,  or  the  penalty, 
+of  doing  justice  throughout  the  world.     That  seems  to  be 
+Plutarch's  'long  answer ""  to  those  who  question  the  justice 
+The  Justice      of  the  Roman  Empire.     He  gives  it  most  fully  in  the  life  of 
+of  the  Roman  Flaminius,  taking,  as  I  have  said,  a  rare  occasion  in  order  to 
+Lmpire  comment  on  the  conclusion  of  a  long  series  of  events.    First, 
+
+he  sums  up  the  results  achieved  by  the  noble  Greeks,  many 
+of  whose  lives  he  has  written.  '  For  Agesilaus,'  he  writes, 
+'  Lysander,  Nicias,  Alcibiades,  and  all  other  the  famous  cap- 
+'  tains  of  former  times,  had  very  good  skill  to  lead  an  army, 
+'  and  to  winne  the  battle,  as  well  by  sea  as  by  land,  but  to 
+'  turn  their  victories  to  any  honourable  benefit,  or  true  honour 
+'  among  men,  they  could  never  skill  of  it  "* ;  especially  as, 
+apart  from  the  Persian  War,  'all  the  other  wars  and  the 
+'  battles  of  Greece  that  were  made  fell  out  against  them- 
+'  selves,  and  did  ever  bring  them  unto  bondage :  and  all 
+'  the  tokens  of  ti'iumph  which  ever  were  set  up  for  the 
+'  same  was  to  their  shame  and  loss.^  Having  summed  up  the 
+tragedy  of  Greece  in  these  words,  he  turns  to  the  Roman  lade, 
+and  '  The  good  deeds  of  the  Romans  and  of  Titus  Quintus 
+'  Flaminius,'  he  says, '  unto  the  Grecians,  did  not  only  reap  this 
+'  benefit  unto  them,  in  recompense  that  they  were  praised 
+'  and  honoured  of  all  the  world  ;  but  they  were  cause  also  of 
+'  increasing  their  dominions  and  empire  over  all  nations.' 
+So  that '  peoples  and  cities  .  .  .  procured  them  to  come,  and  did 
+'  put  themselves  into  their  hands ' ;  and  '  kings  and  princes 
+'  also  (which  were  oppressed  by  other  more  mighty  than 
+'  themselves)  had  no  other  refuge  but  to  put  themselves 
+'  under  their  protection,  by  reason  whereof  in  a  very  short 
+'  time  ...  all  the  world  came  to  submit  themselves  under  the 
+'  protection  of  their  empire.' 
+Plutarch  and  In  the  same  way,  he,  a  republican,  acquiesced  in  the  neces- 
+Caesar  gj^-y  fgj.  Caesar.     Having  told  the  story  of  Brutus,  the  last 
+
+of  the  thirteen  Romans,  he  falls  on  the  other  of  my  two 
+occasions,  and  '  Caesar's  power  and  government,'  he  writes, 
+'  when  it  came  to  be  established,  did  indeed  much  hurt  at 
+xxxiv 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+'  his  first  entrie  and  beginning  unto  those  that  did  resist      INTRO- 
+
+'  him  :  but  afterwards  there  never  followed  any  tyrannical  nor    DUCTION 
+
+*  cruel  act,  but  contrarily,  it  seemed  that  he  was  a  merciful 
+
+'  Physician  whom  God  had  ordained  of  special  grace  to  he 
+
+'  Governor  of  the  Empire  of  Rome,  and  to  set  all  thing's  again 
+
+'  at  quiet  stay,  the  which  required  the  counsel  and  authority 
+
+'  of  an  absolute  Prince.''     That  is  his  epilogue  to  the  longest 
+
+and  the  mightiest  di'ama  in  all  history ;  and  in  it  we  have 
+
+for  once  the  judgment  of  a  playwright   on  the  ethics  of 
+
+his  play.    Yet  so  great  a  dramatist  was  Plutarch  that  even  One  Effect  of 
+
+his  epilogue  has  not  saved  him  from  the  fate  of  his  peers,  liis  Art 
+
+While  some,  with  our  wise  King  James  i.,  blame  him  for 
+
+injustice  to  Caesar,^  yet  others  find  him  a  niggard  in  his 
+
+worship  of  Brutus   and   Cato.       The   fact  is,  each  of  his 
+
+heroes  is  for  the  moment  of  such  flesh  and  blood  as  to 
+
+compel  the  pity  of  him  that  reads ;  for  each  is  in  turn  the 
+
+brother  of  all  men,  in  their  hope  and  in  their  despair.     If, 
+
+then,  the  actor  chances  to  be  Brutus  and  the  reader  King 
+
+James,  Plutarch  is  damned  for  a  rebel ;   but  again,  if  the 
+
+reader  be  a  republican,  when  Servilia's  lover  wraps  him  in 
+
+his  cloak  and  falls,  why,  then  is  Plutarch  but  the  friend  of 
+
+a  tyrant.      Thus  by  the  excellence  of  his  art  he  forces  us 
+
+to  argue  that  his  creatures  must  reign  in  his  affection  as 
+
+surely  as  for  a  moment  they  can  seize  upon  our  own.     Take 
+
+an  early  hero  of  the  popular  party — take  Caius  Gracchus.  Caius 
+
+We  know  him  even  to  his  trick  of  vehement  speech  ;  and,  Gracchus 
+
+knowing  him  so  intimately,  we  cannot  but  mourn  over  that 
+
+parting  from  his  wife,  when  he  left  her  to  meet  death,  and 
+
+she,  'reaching  after  him  to  take  him  by  the  gown,  fell  to 
+
+'  the  ground  and  lay  flatlings  there  a  great  while,  speak- 
+
+'  ing  never  a  word."*     Cato,  again,  that  hero  of  the  other  Cato 
+
+side,  lives   to   be  forbidding  for  his  affectation  ;   yet  who 
+
+but  remembers  the  clever  boy  making  orations  full  of  '  witt 
+
+'  and   vehemence,'  with    a   '  certaine   gravetie ''  which    '  de- 
+
+'  lighted  his  hearers  and  made  them  laugh,  it  did  so  please 
+
+'  them  "*  ?     One  harks  back  to  the  precocious  youngster,  once 
+
+the  hope  of  the  winning  party,  when  Cato,  left  alone  in 
+
+*  In  his  interview  with  Casaubon.     See  Ste.-Beuve  :  Causeries  du  Lundi, 
+xiv.  402. 
+
+XXXV 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+
+INTRO-     Utica,   the  last   soul    true   to  a  lost  cause,  asks   the   dis- 
+DUCTION    semblers    of   his    sword   if   they    'think    to    keep    an    old 
+'  man   alive    by   force  ? ""      He    takes    kindly   thought    for 
+the    safety    of    his    friends,    reads    the    Phcedo,  and    dozes 
+fitfully  through    the    night,   and    behold  !   you   are  in  the 
+room  with  a  great  man  dying.     You  feel  with  him  that 
+chill  disillusion  of  the  dawn,  when  '  the  little  birds  began 
+'  to  chirp''  •,  you  share  in  the  creeping  horror  of  his  servants, 
+listening  outside  the  door ;  and  when  they  give  a  '  shriek 
+'  for  fear '  at  the   '  noise  of  his  fall,  overthrowing  a  little 
+'  table  of  geometry  hard  by  his  bed,"  it  is  almost  a  relief 
+to   know   that   the    recovered    sword    has    done    its    work. 
+Pompeius         And  who  can   help  loving  Pompey,  Avith  his  '  curtesie  in 
+Magnus  i  conversation ;  so  that  there  was  never  man  that  requested 
+
+'  anything  with  less  ill  icill  than  he,  nor  that  more  willingly 
+'  did  pleasure  unto  any  man  when  he  was  requested.  For 
+'  he  gave  zaithout  disdain  and  took  with  great  honour '  ? 
+'  The  cast  and  soft  moving  of  his  eyes  .  .  .  had  a  certain 
+'  resemblaunce  of  the  statues  and  images  of  King  Alexander.' 
+Even  '  Flora  the  curtisan "" — Villon"'s  '  Flora  la  belle  Romaine "' 
+— pined  away  for  love  of  him  when  he  turned  her  over  to  a 
+friend.  He  is  all  compact  of  courage  and  easy  despair  :  now 
+setting  sail  in  a  tempest,  for  '  it  is  necessity,  I  must  go,  but 
+'  not  to  live '' ;  and  again,  at  Pharsalia,  at  the  first  reverse 
+\fo7getting  that  he  was  Pompey  the  Great,""  and  leaving  the 
+field  to  walk  silently  away.  And  that  last  scene  of  all :  when 
+on  a  desolate  shore  a  single  '  infranchised  bondman '  who  had 
+'  remained  ever  "*  by  the  murdered  hero,  '  sought  upon  the 
+'  sands  and  found  at  the  length  a  piece  of  an  old  fisher''s 
+'  boat  enough  to  serve  to  burn  his  naked  body  with ' ;  and  so 
+a  veteran  Avho  had  been  with  him  in  his  old  wars  happens 
+upon  the  afflicting  scene ;  and  you  hear  him  hail  the  other 
+lonely  figure  :  '  O  friend,  what  art  thou  that  preparest  the 
+'  funerals  of  Pompey  the  Great  ?  .  .  .  Thou  shall  not  have 
+'  all  this  honour  alone  ...  to  bury  the  only  and  most 
+'  famous  Captain  of  the  Romans  !' 
+
+There  is  sorcery  in  Plutarch's  presentments  of  these  politi- 
+cians, which  may  either  blind  to  the  import  of  the  drama 
+they  enact,  or  beguile  into  thinking  that  he  sympathises 
+xxxvi 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+by  turns  with  the  ideal  of  eveiy  leader  he  portrays.     But      INTRO- 
+behind  the  glamour  of  their  living  and  the  glory  of  their    DUCTION 
+death,  a  relentless  progression  of  political  causes  and  effects 
+conducts  inevitably  to  Caesar's  personal  rule.     In  no  other 
+book  do  we  see  so  full  an  image  of  a  nation's  life,  because  in 
+no  other  is  the  author  so  little  concerned  to  prove  the  truth 
+of  any  one  theory,  or  the  nobility  of  any  one  sentiment. 
+He  is  detached — indeed,  absorbed — in  another  purpose.    He  Plutarch's 
+exhibits  his  thirteen  vivid  personalities,  holding,  mostly  by  Impartiality 
+birth,  to  one  of  two  historic  parties,  and   inheriting  with 
+those  parties  certain  traditional  aspirations  and  beliefs ;  yet 
+by  showing  men  as  they  are,  he  contrives  to  show  that  truth 
+and  nobility  belong  to  many  divergent  beliefs  and  to  many 
+conflicting  aspirations.     Doubtless  he  has  his  own  view,  his 
+rooted  abhorrence  to  the  rule  of  one  man ;  and  this  persua- 
+sion inclines  him  now  to  the  Popular  Party  in  its  opposition 
+to  Sulla,  and  again  to  the  Senate  in  its  opposition  to  Caesar. 
+But  still,  by  the  sheer  force  of  his  realism,  he  drives  home,  as 
+no  other  writer  has  ever  done,  the  great  truth  that  theories 
+and  sentiments  are  in  politics  no  more  than  flags  and  tuckets 
+in  a  battle :  that  in  fighting  and  in  government  it  is,  after 
+all,  the  fighting  and  the  governing  which  must  somehow 
+or  another  be  achieved.      And,  since  in  this  world  govern-  His  Con- 
+ing there  must  be,  the  question  at  any  moment  is :  What  elusion  m  the 
+are  the  possible  conditions  of  government  ?     In  the  latter  ^^^^^jj^^  ^^^ 
+days  of  the  Republic  it  appears  from  the  Lives  that  two 
+sets   of  causes   had    led    to    a   monstrous   development    of 
+individuals,  in  whose   shadow  all  lower  men  must  wither 
+away.     So  Sertorius  sails  for  the  '  Fortunate  Islands  ** ;  Cato 
+is  juggled  to  Cyprus;  Cicero  is  banished;  while  Lucullus, 
+out-metalled  by  Pompey  on  his  own  side,  '  lay  still  and  took 
+'  his  pleasure,  and  would  no  more  meddle  with  the  common- 
+'  wealth,'  and  the  unspeakable  Bibulus  '  kept  him  close  in  his 
+'  house  for  eight  months'  space,  and  only  sent  out  bills,'     At 
+last  you  have  the  Triumvirate ;  and  then,  with  Crassus  killed, 
+the  two  protagonists  face  to  face  :  '  whose  names  the  strange 
+'  and  far  nations  understood  before  the  name  of  Romans,  so 
+'  great  were  their  victories.'    Given  the  Roman  dominion  and 
+two  parties  with  the  traditions  of  Marius  and  Sulla  behind 
+
+xxxvii 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+INTRO-  them,  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  that  one  or  other  should 
+DUCTION  prove  its  competence  to  rule;  and  no  other  way  of  achieving 
+this  than  finding  the  man  and  giving  him  the  power.  The 
+Marians  found  Caesar,  and  in  him  a  man  who  could  find  power 
+for  himself.  The  political  heirs  of  Sulla  found  Cato  and 
+Brutus,  and  Lucullus  and  Pompey ;  but  none  of  these  was 
+Caesar,  and,  such  as  they  were,  the  Senate  played  them  off 
+the  one  against  the  other.  Bemused  with  theories  and  senti- 
+ments, they  neither  saw  the  necessity,  nor  seized  the  means, 
+of  governing  a  world  that  cried  aloud  for  government.  In 
+Plutarch  you  watch  the  play ;  and,  whatever  you  may  think 
+of  the  actors — of  Crassus  or  Cato,  Pompey  or  Caesar — of  the 
+non-actors  you  can  think  nothing.  Bibulus,  with  his  '  bills,*" 
+and  the  Senate,  which  bade  Pompey  disband  his  troops,  stand 
+for  ever  as  types  of  formal  incompetence.  Plutarch  shows 
+The  True  that  it  is  wiser  and  more  righteous  to  win  the  game  by 
+Morality  accepting  the  rules,  even  if  sometimes  you  must  strain  and 
+
+break  them,  than  to  leave  the  table  because  you  dislike  the 
+rules.  Instead  of  quarrelling  with  the  rules  and  losing  the 
+game,  the  Senate  should  have  won  the  game,  and  then  have 
+changed  the  rules.  This  Caesar  did,  as  Plutarch  the  repub- 
+lican allows,  to  the  saving  of  his  country  and  the  lasting 
+profit  of  mankind.  Doubtless  he  shows  the  argument  in 
+action,  and  points  the  moral  only  in  an  epilogue.  But  living, 
+as  we  do,  after  the  politicians  of  so  many  ages  and  so 
+many  parties  have  laid  competing  claims  to  the  glory  of  his 
+chiefs,  this  is  our  gain.  Brutus  and  Cato,  heroes  of  the 
+Renaissance  and  gods  of  liberty  a  hundred  years  ago,  we 
+are  told  by  eminent  historians,  were  selfish  oligarchs : 
+bunglers  who,  having  failed  to  feed  the  city  or  to  flush  the 
+drains,  wrote  '  sulky  letters  *"  ^  about  the  one  man  who  could 
+do  these  things,  and  govern  the  world  into  the  bargain. 
+Between  these  views  it  skills  not  to  decide.  It  is  enough  to 
+take  up  the  Lives  and  to  rejoice  that  Plutarch,  writing  one 
+hundred  and  fifty  years  after  the  foundering  of  the  Republic, 
+dwelt  rather  on  its  heroes  who  are  for  ever  g-lorious  than  on 
+its  theories  which  were  for  ever  shamed. 
+
+In  his  book  are  three  complete  plays :  the  brief  tragedy 
+^  Mommsen  :  he  uses  the  phrase  of  Cicero. 
+
+xxxviii 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+of  Athens — that  land  of '  honey  and  hemlock,''  offering  her  cup      I NTRO- 
+of  sweet  and  deadly  elements  to  the  dreamers  of  every  age;    DUCTION 
+with  the  drama  of  the  merging  of  Greece  in  the  dominion 
+of  Rome  and  the  drama  of  the  overthrow  of  the  Roman 
+Republic.    And  the  upshot  of  all  three  is  that  the  playwright  The  Moral  of 
+insists  on  the  culture  of  the  individual  for  the  sake  of  the  *^.®  Parallel 
+State.     The  political  teacher  behind  the  political  dramatist    ^^^* 
+inculcates,  no  theory  of  politics  but,  an  attitude  towards  life. 
+Good  is  the  child  of  custom  and  conflict,  not  the  reward  of 
+individual  research ;  so  he  shows  you  life  as  one  battle  in 
+which  the  armies  are  ordered  States.     Every  man,  therefore, 
+must  needs  be  a  citizen,  and  every  citizen  a  soldier  in  the 
+ranks.     For  this  service,  life  being  a  battle,  he  must  culti- 
+vate  the   soldier's  virtues   of  courage   and    courtesy.     The 
+word  is  North's,  and  smacks   something  more   of  chivalry 
+than  Amyofs  humanite;   yet  both  may  be  taken  to  point 
+Plutarch's  moral,  not  only  that  victory  is  impossible  without 
+kindness  between  comrades,  and  intolerable  without  forbear- 
+ance between  foes,  but  also,  that  in  every  age  of  man's  progress 
+to  perfection  through  strife  these  qualities  must  be  developed 
+to  a  larger  growth   measured  by  the  moral  needs  of  war 
+between  nations  and  parties.      He  insists  again  and  again 
+on  this  need  of  courtesy  in  a  world  wherein  all  men  are  in  Courtesy  in 
+duty  bound  to  hold  opposite  opinions,  for  which  they  must  Victory 
+in  honour  live  and  die.     For  this  his  Sertorius,  his  Lucullus, 
+and  his  Mummius,  sketched  in  a  passing  allusion,  are  chiefly 
+memorable ;  while  of  Caesar  he  writes  that  '  amongst  other 
+
+*  honours '  his  enemies  gave  him  '  he  rightly  deserved  this, 
+'  that  they  should  build  him  a  Temple  of  Clemency.'  Caesar, 
+lighting  from  his  horse  to  embrace  Cicero,  the  arch-instigator 
+of  the  opposition  he  had  overthrown,  and  walking  with  him 
+
+*  a  great  way  a-foot ' ;  or  Demetrius,  who,  the  Athenians 
+having  defaulted,  gathers  them  into  the  theatre,  and  then, 
+when  they  expect  a  massacre,  forgives  them  in  a  speech — 
+these  are  but  two  exemplars  of  a  style  which  Plutarch  ever 
+praises.     And  if  his  standard  of  courtesy  in  victory  be  high, 
+
+not  lower  is  his  standard  of  courage  in  defeat.    Demosthenes  and  Courage 
+is  condemned  for  that  '  he  took  his  banishment  unmanly,'  i"  Defeat 
+while  Phocion,  his  rival,  is  made  glorious  for  his  irony  in 
+
+xxxix 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+INTRO-  death :  paying,  when  the  stock  ran  out,  for  his  own  hemlock, 
+DUCTION  '  sith  a  man  cannot  die  at  Athens  for  nothing.'  In  defeat 
+Plutarch''s  heroes  sometimes  doubted  if  Hfe  were  worth  hving ; 
+but  they  never  doubted  there  were  things  in  Hfe  worth  dying 
+for.  Even  Demosthenes  is  redeemed  in  his  eyes  because,  at 
+the  last,  '  sith  the  god  Neptune  denied  him  the  benefit  of 
+'  his  sanctuary,  he  betook  him  to  a  greater,  and  that  was 
+'  Death.''  So  often  does  Plutarch  applaud  the  act  of  suicide, 
+and  so  scornfully  does  he  revile  those  who,  like  the  last  king 
+of  Macedon,  forewent  their  opportunity,  that  we  might  easily 
+misconceive  his  ethics.  But '  when  a  man  will  willingly  kill 
+'  himself,  he  must  not  do  it  to  be  rid  of  pains  and  laboui', 
+'  but  it  must  have  an  honourable  respect  and  action.  For, 
+'  to  live  or  die  for  his  own  respect,  that  cannot  but  be  dis- 
+'  honourable.  .  .  .  And  therefore  I  am  of  opinion  that  we 
+'  should  not  yet  cast  off  the  hope  we  have  to  serve  our 
+'  country  in  time  to  come ;  but  when  all  hope  faileth  us, 
+*•  then  we  may  easily  make  ourselves  away  when  we  list.' 
+Thus,  after  Selasia,  the  last  of  the  kings  of  Sparta,  who  re- 
+called the  saying  of  Lycurgus  :  that,  with  '  great  personages 
+'  .  .  .  the  end  of  their  life  should  be  no  more  idle  and  un- 
+'  profitable  then  the  rest  of  their  life  before."  And  this  is 
+the  pith  of  Plutarch's  political  matter :  that  men  may  not 
+with  honour  live  unto  themselves,  but  must  rather  live  and 
+die  m  respect  to  the  State. 
+
+
+Moralist  or 
+Painter .'' 
+
+
+Plutarch's 
+Art 
+
+
+II 
+
+Side  by  side,  and  in  equal  honour,  with  Plutarch  the 
+dramatist  of  politics  there  should  stand,  I  think — not 
+Plutarch  the  moralist  but — Plutarch  the  unrivalled  painter 
+of  men.  Much  has  been  written,  and  rightly  written,  of  his 
+perennial  influence  upon  human  character  and  human  con- 
+duct ;  yet  outside  the  ethics  of  citizenship  he  insisted  on  little 
+that  is  not  now  a  platitude.  The  interest  of  his  morals  springs 
+from  their  likeness  to  our  own ;  the  wonder  of  his  portraitures 
+must  ever  be  new  and  strange.  Indeed,  we  may  speak  of  his 
+art  much  as  he  writes,  through  North,  of  the  '  stately  and 
+'  sumptuous  buildings '  which  Pericles  '  gave  to  be  built  in 
+
+xl 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+'  the  cittie  of  Athens.'  For  '  it  looketh  at  this  daye  as  if  it  INTRO- 
+'  were  but  newly  done  and  finished,  there  is  such  a  certainc  DUCTION 
+'  kynde  of  florishing  freshnes  in  it,  which  letteth  that  the 
+'  injurie  of  time  cannot  impaire  the  sight  thereof:  as  if 
+'  every  one  of  those  foresaid  workes  had  some  living  spirite 
+'  in  it,  to  make  it  seeme  young  and  freshe :  and  a  soul  that 
+'  lived  ever,  which  kept  them  in  good  continuing  state/ 
+Yet  despite  this  'florishing  freshnes'  the  painter  has  been 
+slighted  for  the  preacher,  and  for  this  preference  of  the  ethical 
+before  the  aesthetic  element  in  the  Lives,  and  of  both  before 
+their  political  quality,  Plutarch  has  mostly  himself  to  thank. 
+Just  as  he  masks  a  political  framework  under  a  professed  His  Profes- 
+devotion  to  the  study  of  individual  souls,  so,  when  he  comes  sion  not  Con- 
+to  the  study  of  these  souls,  he  puts  you  off  by  declaring  v-^^^p*aSce 
+a  moral  aim  in  language  that  may  easily  mislead.  '  When 
+'  first  I  began  these  lives,'  he  writes  in  the  Paulus  jEmilius, 
+'  my  intent  was  to  profit  other :  but  since,  continuing  and 
+'  going  on,  I  have  much  profited  myself  by  looking  into  these 
+'  histories,  as  if  I  looked  into  a  glasse,  to  frame  and  facion 
+'  my  life,  to  the  moold  and  patterne  of  these  vertuous  noble 
+'  men,  and  doe  as  it  were  lodge  them  with  me,  one  after 
+'  another.'  And  again,  '  by  keeping  allwayes  in  minde  the 
+'  acts  of  the  most  noble,  vertuous  and  best  geven  men  of  former 
+*  age  ...  I  doe  teache  and  prepare  my  selfe  to  shake  of  and 
+'  banishe  from  me,  all  lewde  and  dishonest  condition,  if  by 
+'  chaunce  the  companie  and  conversation  of  them  whose  com- 
+'  panic  I  keepe  .  .  .  doe  acquaint  me  with  some  unhapjne  or 
+'  ungratious  touche.''  Now,  as  matter  of  fact,  he  does  not 
+keep  always  in  mind  these,  and  these  only.  Doubtless  his 
+aim  was  moral;  yet  assuredly  he  never  did  pursue  it  by 
+denoting  none  save  the  virtuous  acts  of  the  '  most  noble, 
+'  vertuous,  and  best  geven  men.'  On  the  contrary,  his  practice 
+is  to  record  their  every  act  of  significance,  whether  good  or 
+bad.  I  admit  that  he  does  this  ever  with  a  most  happy  and 
+most  gracious  touch  ;  for  his  '  first  study '  is  to  write  a  good 
+man's  '  vertues  at  large,'  and  if  '  certaine  faultes '  be  there, 
+'  to  pass  them  over  lightly  0/  reverent  shame  to  the  mere 
+'' frayclty  of  marl's  nature.''^  He  lays  the  ruin  of  his 
+^  Preface  to  the  Cimon  and  Luaillus. 
+
+f  xU 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+INTRO-  country  at  the  door  of  Aratus  alone;  but  'this,"*  he  adds, 
+DUCTION  i  ^i^jj^  ^yg  have  written  of  Aratus  ...  is  not  so  much  to 
+'  accuse  him  as  to  make  us  see  the  frayelty  and  weakness  of 
+'  man's  nature :  the  which,  though  it  have  never  so  excellent 
+'  vertues,  cannot  yet  bring  forth  such  perfit  frute,  but  that 
+'  it  hath  ever  some  mayme  and  blemishe.'  ^  That  is  his  wont 
+in  portraying  the  ill  deeds  of  the  virtuous ;  and,  for  their 
+opposites,  '  as  I  hope,'  he  writes  in  the  preface  to  the  Deme- 
+trius and  A  ntonius,  '  it  shall  not  be  reprehended  in  me  if 
+'  amongst  the  rest  I  put  in  one  or  two  paier  of  suche,  as 
+'  living  in  great  place  and  accompt,  have  increased  their  fame 
+'  with  infamy.'  '  Phisicke,'  he  submits  in  defence  of  such  a 
+choice,  '  dealeth  Avith  diseases,  musicke  with  discordes,  to 
+'  thend  to  remove  them,  and  worke  their  contraries,  and  the 
+'  great  Ladies  of  all  other  artes  (Amyot :  les  plus  parjaittes 
+'  sciences  de  toutes\  Temperaunce,  Justice,  and  Wisdom,  doe 
+'  not  onely  consider  honestie,  uprightness  and  profit :  but 
+'  examine  withall,  the  nature  and  effects  of  lewdness,  corrup- 
+'  tion  and  damage ' ;  for  '  innocencie,'  he  goes  on,  '  which 
+'  vaunteth  her  want  of  experience  in  undue  practices :  men 
+'  call  simplicitie  (Amyot :  uiie  bestise)  and  ignoraunce  of 
+'  things  that  be  necessary  and  good  to  be  knowen.'  His, 
+then,  is  a  moral  standpoint ;  and  yet  it  is  one  from  which  he  is 
+impelled  to  study — (and  that  as  closely  as  the  keenest  apostle 
+of  '  art  for  art ') — all  matters  having  truth  and  significance ; 
+whether  they  be  evil  or  good.  For  the  sake  of  what  is  good, 
+he  will  neither  distort  truth  nor  disfigure  beauty.  Rather,  by 
+the  exercise  of  a  fine  selection,  he  will  create  a  harmony 
+between  the  three ;  so  that,  embracing  everything  except  the 
+trivial,  his  art  reflects  the  world  as  it  shows  in  the  sight 
+of  sane  and  healthy-hearted  men. 
+
+His  method  naturally  differs  from   the  method  of  some 
+
+His  Canon  of  modern  historians ;  but  his  canon  of  evidence,  too  lax  for 
+
+Evidence         their  purpose,  is  admirably  suited  to  his  own.     For  instance, 
+
+in  telling  of  Solon's  meeting  with  Croesus,  he  will  not  reject 
+
+so  famous  an  history  on  chronological  grounds :  because,  in 
+
+the  first  place,  no  two  are  agreed  about  chronology,  and  in 
+
+the  second,  the  story  is  '  very  agreeable  to  Solon's  manners 
+
+*  Agis  and  Cleomenes. 
+
+xlii 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+'  and  nature."*  That  is  his  chief  canon ;  and  though  the  INTRO- 
+results  he  attains  by  it  are  in  no  wise  doubt-proof,  they  DUCTION 
+yield  a  truer,  because  a  completer,  image  than  do  the  lean 
+and  defective  outlines  determined  by  excluding  all  but  con- 
+temporaiy  evidence.  These  outlines  belong  rather  to  the 
+science  of  anthropometry  than  to  the  art  of  portraiture  ; 
+and  Plutarch  the  painter  refuses  such  restraints.  His  ima- 
+gination having  taken  the  imprint  of  his  hero,  he  will  sup- 
+plement it  from  impressions  left  in  report  and  legend,  so 
+long,  at  any  rate,  as  they  tally  with  his  own  ideal.  Nor  is 
+there  better  cause  for  rejecting  such  impressions  than  there 
+is  for  rejecting  the  fossils  of  primeval  reptiles  whose  carnal 
+economy  has  perished.  Given  those  fossils  and  a  know- 
+ledge of  morphology,  the  palaeontologist  will  refashion  the 
+dragons  of  the  prime ;  and  in  the  same  way  Plutarch,  out 
+of  tradition  and  his  knowledge  of  mankind,  paints  you  the  true 
+Themistocles.  His,  indeed,  is  the  surer  warrant,  since  there 
+have  been  no  such  changes  in  human  nature  as  science  shows 
+in  animal  design  ;  so  that  the  method  is  safe  so  long  as 
+a  nation's  legends  have  not  been  crushed  out  of  shape  by 
+the  superincumbent  layers  of  a  conquering  race.  Moreover, 
+Plutarch  makes  no  wanton  use  of  his  imagination  :  give  him 
+contemporary  evidence,  and  he  abides  by  it,  rejecting  all 
+besides.  In  his  account  of  Alexander's  death,  having  the 
+court  journal  before  him,  he  repudiates  later  embellishments  : 
+'  for  all  these  were  thought  to  be  written  by  some,  for  lyes 
+'  and  fables,  because  they  would  have  made  the  ende  of  this 
+'  great  tragedie  lamentable  and  pitifull.'' 
+
+His  results  are,  of  course,  unequal.  He  cannot  always  His  Results 
+revive  the  past,  nor  quicken  the  dead  anew.  Who  can  ? 
+His  gallery  includes  some  pieces  done  on  a  faded  conven- 
+tion, faint  in  colour  and  angular  in  line,  mere  pretexts  for 
+a  parade  of  legendary  names  :  with  certain  sketches,  as  those 
+of  Cimon  and  Aristides,  which  are  hack-work  turned  out 
+to  complete  a  pair.  But  first  and  last  there  stand  out  six 
+or  seven  realisations  of  living  men,  set  in  an  atmosphere, 
+charged  with  a  vivid  intensity  of  expression,  and  striking  you 
+in  much  the  same  way  as  the  sight  of  a  few  people  scattered 
+through  a  big  room  strikes  you  when  you  enter  unawares. 
+
+xliii 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+INTRO-     And  when  you  have  done  staring  at  these,  you  will  note  a 
+DUCTION   half-dozen  more  which  are  scarce  less  vigorously  detached. 
+The  Plutarch''s  first  masterpiece  is  the  Themistodes,  and  there 
+
+Themistocles  jg  never  a  touch  in  it  but  tells.  Even  as  you  watch  him 
+at  work,  you  are  conscious,  leaping  out  from  beneath  his 
+hand,  of  the  ambitious  boy,  '  sodainely  taken  with  desire 
+'  of  glorie,'  who,  from  his  first  entry  into  public  life,  '  stoode 
+'  at  pyke  with  the  greatest  and  mightiest  personnes/  But 
+you  soon  forget  the  artist  in  his  creation.  You  have  eyes 
+for  nothing  but  Themistocles  himself:  now  walking  with 
+his  father  by  the  seashore;  now,  after  Marathon,  'a  very 
+'  young  man  many  times  solitary  alone  devising  with  him- 
+'  self — in  this  way  passing  his  boyhood,  for  ^  Miltiades 
+'  victory  would  not  let  Mm  sleep.''  Then  the  ambitious  boy 
+'  develops  into  the  political  artist ;  rivals  Aristides,  as  Fox 
+
+rivalled  Pitt ;  and  is  found  loving  his  art  for  its  own  sake, 
+above  his  country,  above  his  ambition  even,  wrapt  as  he  is, 
+through  good  fortune  and  ill,  in  the  expert's  delight  in 
+his  own  accomplishment.  Knowing  what  all  men  should 
+do,  and  swaying  every  several  man  to  do  it,  he  controls 
+both  individuals  and  nations  with  the  inspired  prescience 
+of  a  master  conducting  his  own  symphony.  He  has  all  the 
+devices  at  his  fingers''  ends.  In  the  streets  he  will '  speake 
+'  to  every  citizen  by  his  name,  no  man  telling  him  their 
+'  names'" :,  and  in  the  council  he  will  manage  even  Eury- 
+biades,  with  that  '  Strike  an  thou  wilt,  so  thou  wilt  heare 
+'  me,"*  which  has  been  one  of  the  world's  words  since  its 
+utterance.  Now  with  '  pleasaunt  conceits  and  answers,'  now — 
+with  a  large  poetic  appeal — '  pointing ""  his  countrymen  '  the 
+'  waye  unto  the  sea ' ;  this  day,  deceiving  his  friends,  the 
+next  overawing  his  enemies  ;  with  effi-ontery  or  chicane,  with 
+good-fellowship  or  reserve ;  but  ever  with  infinite  dexterity, 
+a  courage  that  never  falters,  and  a  patience  that  never 
+wearies  :  he  keeps  the  shuttle  of  his  thought  quick-flying 
+through  the  web  of  intrigue.  And  all  for  the  fun  of 
+weaving !  Till,  at  the  last,  a  banished  man,  being  com- 
+manded by  his  Persian  master  to  fight  against  Greece,  '  he 
+'  tooke  a  wise  resolution  with  himselfe,  to  make  suche  an 
+'  ende  of  his  life,  as  the  fame  thereof  deserved.'  After 
+xliv 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+sacrificing  to  the  gods,  and  feasting  his  friends,  he  drank      INTRjO- 
+
+poison,  'and  so  ended  his  dayes  in  the  cittie  of  Magnesia,    DUCTION 
+
+'  after   he   had    lived    threescore   and    five   yeres,   and   the 
+
+'  most  parte  of  them  allwayes  in  office  and  great  charge.' 
+
+Plutarch  produces  this  notable  piece,  not  by  comment  and 
+
+analysis  but,  simply  by  setting  down  his  sitter's  acts  and 
+
+words.     It  is  in  the  same  way  that  he  paints  his  Alcibiades,  The 
+
+with  his  beauty  and  his  lisp:   'the  grace  of  his  eloquence,  -4/c?6jarfe* 
+
+'  the  strength  and   valiantness  of  his  bodie   ...  his  wis- 
+
+'  dom   and   experience   in   marshall    aft'ayres ' ;    and   again, 
+
+\vith  his  insolence   and  criminal    folly  to  the  women   who 
+
+loved  him   as   to   the   nations   he   betrayed.       He   fought, 
+
+like  the  Cid,  now  for  and  now  against  his  own.     But  'he 
+
+'  had  such  pleasaunt  comely  devises  with  him  that  no  man 
+
+'  was  of  so  sullen  a  nature,  but  he  left  him  merrie,  nor  so 
+
+'  churlishe,  but  he  would  make  him  gentle.""     And  when  he 
+
+died,  they  felt  that  their  country  died  with  him ;  for  they 
+
+'  had  some  little  poore  hope  left  that  they  were  not  altogether 
+
+'  cast  away  so  long  as  Alcibiades  lived.' 
+
+In  the  first  rank  of  Plutarch's  masterpieces  come,  with 
+these  two,  the  Mar  ins,  the  Cato,  the  Alexander,  the  Deme- 
+trius, the  Antonius,  and  the  Pompey.  Modern  writers  have 
+again  and  again  repainted  some  of  these  portraits  ;  but  their 
+colour  has  all  been  borrowed  from  Plutarch.  These  heroes 
+live  for  all  time  in  the  Parallel  Lives.  There  you  shall  learn 
+the  fashion  of  their  faces,  and  the  tricks  of  their  speech ;  their 
+seat  on  horseback  and  the  cut  of  their  clothes ;  with  every 
+tone  and  every  gesture,  all  the  charms  and  all  the  foibles  that 
+made  them  the  men  they  were.  Marcus  Cato  is  what  we  call  The  Marcus 
+a '  character.'  He  hated  doctors  and,  no  doubt,  schoolmasters;  ^"'<> 
+for  did  he  not  educate  his  own  son,  writing  for  him  '  goodly 
+'  histories,  in  great  letters  with  Ms  oune  hande '  ?  He  taught 
+the  boy  grammar  and  law,  '  to  throw  a  dart,  to  play  at  the 
+'  sword,  to  vawt,  to  ride  a  horse,  and  to  handle  all  sortes  of 
+'  weapons,  ...  to  fight  with  fistes,  to  abide  colde  and 
+'  heate,  and  to  swimme  over  a  swift  runninge  river.'  A 
+'  new  man '  from  a  little  village,  his  ideal  was  Manius 
+Curius  sitting  'by  the  fyer's  side  seething  of  perseneapes,' 
+and  he  tried  to  educate  everybody  on  the  same  lines.     Being 
+
+xlv 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+
+INTRO- 
+DUCTION 
+
+
+The 
+
+Alexander 
+Magnus 
+
+
+Censor,  he  would  proceed  by  way  of  imprisonment ;  but  at 
+all  times  he  was  ready  to  instruct  with  apothegms  and  '  wise 
+'  sayings,""  and  '  he  would  taunte  a  marvelous  fatte  man ' 
+thus  :  '  See,  sayd  he,  what  good  can  such  a  body  do  to  the 
+'  commonwealth,  that  from  his  chine  to  his  coddepece  is 
+'  nothing  but  belly  ? '  This  is  but  one  of  many  '  wise  sayings ' 
+reported  of  him,  whereby  '  we  may  the  easilier  conjecture  his 
+'  maners  and  nature.'  ^  Even  the  Alexander  seems  a  new  thing 
+still ;  so  clear  is  the  colouring,  so  vigorous  and  expressive  the 
+pose.  '  Naturally,""  you  read,  '  he  had  a  very  fayre  white 
+'  colour,  mingled  also  with  red,""  and  '  his  body  had  so  sweete 
+'  a  smell  of  itself,  that  all  the  apparell  he  wore  next  unto  his 
+'  body  took  thereof  a  passing  delightful  savor,  as  if  it  had 
+'  been  perfumed.""  This  was  his  idea  of  a  holiday :  '  After 
+'  he  was  up  in  the  morning,  first  of  all  he  would  doe  sacrifice 
+'  to  the  goddes,  and  then  would  goe  to  diner,  passing  awaie 
+'  all  the  rest  of  the  daye,  in  hunting,  writing  something, 
+'  taking  up  some  quan'ell  between  soldiers,  or  els  in  studying. 
+'  If  he  went  any  journey  of  no  hastie  busines,  he  would 
+'  exercise  himselfe  by  the  waie  as  he  went,  shooting  in  his 
+'  bowe,  or  learning  to  get  up  or  out  of  his  chaiTet  sodenly, 
+'  as  it  ranne.  Oftentimes  also  for  his  pastime  he  would  hvmt 
+'  the  foxe,  or  ketch  birdes,  as  appeareth  in  his  booke  of 
+'  remembrances  for  everie  daie.  Then  when  he  came  to  his 
+'  lodging,  he  would  enter  into  his  bath  and  rubbe  and  nointe 
+'  himselfe :  and  would  aske  his  pantelers  and  carvers  if  his 
+'  supper  were  ready.  He  would  ever  suppe  late,  and  was 
+'  very  curious  to  see,  that  every  man  at  his  bourde  were  a 
+'  like  served,  and  would  sit  longe  at  the  table,  bycause  he 
+'  ever  loved  to  talke.""  But  take  him  at  his  work  of  leading 
+others  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth.  Being  parched 
+with  thirst,  in  the  desert,  '  he  tooke  the  helmet  with  water, 
+'  and  perceiving  that  the  men  of  amies  that  were  about  him, 
+'  and  had  followed  him,  did  thrust  out  their  neckes  to  look 
+'  upon  this  water,  he  gave  the  water  back  againe  unto  them 
+'  that  had  geven  it  him,  and  thanked  them  but  drank  none 
+'  of  it.     For,  said  he,  if'  I  drink  alone  all  tliese  men  here  will 
+
+^  Plutarch's  Cato  is  accepted  bodily  by  Mommsen  for  a  typical  '  Roman 
+'  burgess.'     History  of  Rome,  vol.  ii.  pp.  429-432. 
+xlvi 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+^Jhint.''     What  a  touch  !      And  what  wonder  if  his  men      INTRO- 
+'  beganne   to    spurre    their   horses,   saying  that   they  were    DUCTION 
+
+*  not  wearie  nor  athirst,  nor  did  think  tliernselves  mortally 
+
+*  so  long  as  they  had  such  a  king '' !  There  is  more  of  self- 
+restraint  in  Pkitarch's  portrait  than  appears  in  later  copies. 
+Alexander  passes  by  the  ladies  of  Persia  '  without  any  sparke 
+
+*  of  affection    towardes  them    .    .    .    preferring  the   beautie 
+
+*  of  his  continencie,  before  their  swete  faire  faces/  But  he 
+was  ever  lavish   of  valour,   loving  '  his  honour  more  then 
+
+*  his  kingdome  or  his  life ' ;  and  it  is  with  a  '  marvelous  faier 
+
+*  white  plume '  in  his  helmet  that  he  plunges  first  into  the 
+river  at  Granicus,  and  single-handed  engages  the  army  on 
+the  further  bank.  Centuries  later  at  Ivry,  Henri-Quatre, 
+who  learned  Plutarch  at  his  mother's  knee,  forgot  neither 
+the  feather  nor  the  act.  But  the  dead  Alexander  never 
+lacked  understudies.  All  the  kings,  his  successors,  '  did  but 
+'  counterfeate '  him  '  in  his  purple  garments,  and  in  numbers 
+'  of  souldiers  and  gardes  about  their  persones,  and  in  a  certaine 
+
+*  facion  and  bowing  of  their  neckes  a  little,  and  in  uttering 
+
+'  his  speech  with  a  high  voyce."'  One  of  them  is  Demetrius,  The 
+'  the  Fort-gainer,"  with  '  his  wit  and  manners  .  .  .  that  were  Demetrius 
+'  both  fearefull  and  pleasaunt  unto  men  that  frequented  him*"; 
+his  '  sweete  countenance  .  .  .  and  incomparable  majestic '; 
+'  more  wantonly  geven  to  follow  any  lust  and  pleasure  than 
+'  any  king  that  ever  was ;  yet  alwayes  very  careful  and 
+'  diligent  in  dispatching  matters  of  importance.''  A  leader 
+of  forlorn  hopes  and  lewd  masquerades,  juggling  with  king- 
+doms as  a  mountebank  with  knives  ;  the  lover  of  innumer- 
+able queens  and  the  taker  of  a  thousand  towns ;  in  his 
+defeat,  'not  like  unto  a  king,  but  like  a  common  player 
+'  when  the  play  is  done ' ;  drinking  himself  to  death  for  that 
+he  found  '  it  was  that  maner  of  life  he  had  long  desired "" 
+— this  Poliorcetes,  I  say,  has  furnished  Plutarch  with  the 
+matter  for  yet  another  masterpiece,  which  indeed  is  one 
+of  the  greater  feats  in  romantic  realism. 
+
+Of  the  Antonius  with  his  '  Asiatic  phrase,"  it  is  enough 
+to  say  that  it  is  Shakespeare's  Antony ;  and  at  the  Pompey 
+I  have  already  glanced.     The  Coesar  is  only  less  wonderful  The  Ctesar 
+than  these  because  the  man  is   lost  in  the  leader.     Julius 
+
+xlvii 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+
+INTRO-  travels  so  fast,  that  you  catch  but  ghmpses  as  he  races  in 
+DUCTION  liis  litter  through  the  night;  ever  dictating  to  his  secre- 
+taries, and  writing  by  the  way.  But  now  and  again  you 
+see  him  plainly — 'leane,  white  and  soft-skinned,  and  often 
+'subject  to  head-ache'';  filling  his  soldiers  with  awe,  not 
+'  at  his  valiantnesse  at  putting  himself  at  every  instant  in 
+'  such  manifest  danger,  since  they  knew  'twas  his  greedy 
+'  desire  of  honor  that  set  him  a  fire'  .  .  .  but  because  he 
+'  continued  all  labour  and  hardnesse  more  than  his  bodie 
+'  could  beare/  A  strange  ruler  of  the  world,  this  epileptic, 
+'  fighting  always  with  his  disease ' !  He  amazes  friends  and 
+enemies  by  the  swiftness  of  his  movements,  while  Pompey 
+journeys  as  in  state  from  land  to  land".  Pompey  was  of 
+plebeian  extraction,  Julius  was  born  into  one  of  the  sixteen 
+surviving  patrician  gentes  ;  yet  Julius  burns  with  the  blast- 
+ing heat  of  a  new  man's  endeavour,  Pompey  as  with  the 
+banked  fires  of  hereditary  self-esteem.  And  through  all  the 
+commotion  and  the  coil  he  is  still  mindful  of  the  day  of  his 
+youth  '  when  he  had  been  acquainted  with  Servilia,  who  was 
+'  extreamilie  in  love  with  him.  And  because  Brutus  was 
+'  boorne  in  that  time  when  their  love  was  hottest  he  per- 
+'  suaded  himself  that  he  begat  him.'^  What  of  anguish  does 
+this  not  add  to  the  sweep  of  the  gesture  wherewith  the  hero 
+covered  his  face  from  the  pedant's  sword  !  With  the  Cassar 
+The  Sulla  may  stand  the  Marius,  and  the  Sylla  :  Sulla  the  lucky  man, 
+filix^  Epaphroditus,  beloved  of  all  women  and  the  victor  in 
+every  fight,  who  '  when  he  was  in  his  chiefest  authoritie  would 
+'  commonly  eate  and  drinke  with  the  most  impudent  j  casters 
+'  and  scoffers,  and  all  such  rake  helles,  as  made  profession 
+'  of  counterfeate  mirth.'  He  laughed  his  way  to  complete 
+political  success;  he  was  fortunate  even  in  the  weather  for  his 
+funeral ;  and,  as  he  epitaphed  himself, '  no  man  did  ever  passe 
+'  him,  neither  in  doing  good  to  his  friends,  nor  in  doing  mis- 
+The  Lucullus  '  chief  to  his  enemies.'  Plutarch's  Lucullus,  being  young  and 
+ambitious,  marches  further  into  the  unknown  East  than  any 
+Roman  had  ventured.  He  fords  the  river  on  foot  with  the 
+countless  hosts  of  Tigranes  on  the  farther  shore, '  himselfe  the 
+'  foremost  man,'  and  marches  '  directly  towardes  his  enemy, 
+
+^  Brutus. 
+
+xlviii 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+'armed  with  an   "anima"  of  Steele,   made  with  scalloppe      INTRO- 
+'  shelles,  shining  like   the  sunne/      He  urges  on  through    DUCTION 
+summer  and  winter,  till  the  rivers  are  '  congealed  with  ice,"" 
+so  that  no  man  can  '  passe  over  by  forde  :  for  they  did  no 
+'  sooner  enter  but  the  ise  brake  and  cut   the  vaines  and 
+
+*  sinews  of  the  horse  legges.'  His  men  murmur,  but  he 
+presses  on  :  till  '  the  country  being  full  of  trees,  woddes 
+'  and  forestes,"*  they  are  '  through  wet  with  the  snow  that 
+'  fell  upon  them,"*  and  at  last  they  mutiny  and  flatly  refuse 
+to  take  another  step  into  the  unknown.  This  is  a  Lucullus 
+we  forget.  Plutarch  gives  the  other  one  as  well,  and  the  two 
+together  make  for  him  '  an  auncient  comedy ,"*  the  beginning 
+whereof  is  tedious,  but  the  latter  end — with  its  '  feasts  and 
+'  bankets,""  '  masks  and  mummeries,'  and  '  dauncing  with 
+'  torches,"*  its  '  fine  built  chambers  and  high  raised  turrets 
+'  to  gaze  a  farre,  environed  about  with  conduits  of  water  "* ; 
+its  superlative  cook,  too,  and  its  '  library  ever  open  to  all 
+'  comers'* — is  a  matter  to  rejoice  the  heart  of  man.  Crassus 
+and  Cicero  complete  his  group  of  second-bests :  Cicero 
+'  dogge  ieane,"*  and  '  a  little  eater,**  '  so  earnest  and  vehement 
+'  in  his  oration  that  he  mounted  still  with  his  voyce  into  the 
+'  highest  tunes  :   insomuch  that  men  were  affrayed  it  would 
+
+'  one  day  put  him  in  hazard  of  his  life.'    Here  I  may  pause  to  Oratory 
+note  that  Plutarch's  references  to  public  speaking  are  all  ob- 
+served.   He  writes  from  experience,  and  you  might  compile  a 
+manual  of  the  art  from  him.     Well  did  he  know  the  danger 
+of  fluent  earnestness.     His  Caius  Gracchus  '  had  a  servant 
+
+*  .  ,  .  who,  with  an  instrument  of  musicke  he  had  .  .  .  ever 
+'  stoode  behind  him  ;  and  when  he  perceived  his  Maistcr"'s 
+'  voyce  was  a  little  too  lowde,  and  that  through  choller  he 
+'  exceeded  his  ordinary  speache,  he  played  a  soft  stoppe  be- 
+'  hind  him,  at  the  sonde  whereof  Caius  immediately  fell  from 
+'  his  extreamitie  and  easilie  came  to  himself  againe."*  Thus, 
+too,  his  Demosthenes  and  Cicero  sets  forth  full  instructions 
+for  removing  every  other  blemish  of  delivery.^ 
+
+The  painter   of  incident   is   scarce  less   great   than    the  The  Painter 
+painter  of  men.     Plutarch''s  picture  of  Cicero  is  completed  of  Incident 
+by  a  presentment  of  his  death,  in  which  the  artist'*s  imagi- 
+^  See  also  his  account  of  the  several  manners  of  Cleon  and  Pericles. 
+
+g  xlix 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+
+INTRO- 
+DUCTION 
+
+and  his 
+Devices 
+
+
+nation  rises  to  its  full  height.     Hunted  down  by  Antony's 
+swordcrs,  the  orator  is  overtaken  at   night  in  a  by-lane ; 
+
+
+Baclcgrounds 
+
+
+Restraint 
+
+
+Instancy 
+
+
+Peculiar 
+Alaaric 
+
+
+he  stretches  out  his  head  from  the  litter  to  look  his 
+murderers  in  the  face ;  and  '  his  head  and  his  beard 
+'  being  all  white,  and  his  face  leane  and  wrinckled,  for 
+'  the  extreame  sorrowes  he  had  taken,  divers  of  them  that 
+'  were  by  held  their  handes  before  their  eyes,  whilest  Heren- 
+
+*  nius  did  cruelly  murder  him."*  Then  the  head  was  set  up 
+by  Antony  '  over  the  pulpit  for  orations,**  and  '  this  was  a 
+'  fearefull  and  horrible  sight  unto  the  Romanes,  who  thought 
+'  they  saw  not  Ciceroes  face,  hut  an  image  of  Antonius  life 
+
+*  and  dispositions ""  (Amyot :  une  image  de  Vame  et  de  la 
+nature  d' Antonius).  This  gift,  at  times  almost  appalling,  of 
+imaginative  presentment,  is  the  distinctive  note  of  Plutarch''s 
+art.  He  uses  it  freely  in  his  backgrounds,  which  are  ani- 
+mated as  are  those  in  certain  pictures  of  a  bygone  mode ;  so 
+that  behind  his  heroes  armies  engage,  fleets  are  sunk,  towns 
+are  sacked,  and  citadels  escaladed.  Sometimes  his  effect  is 
+produced  by  a  rare  restraint.  In  the  Alcibiades,  for  instance, 
+he  tells  how  the  Sicilian  expedition  was  mooted  which  was  to 
+ruin  both  the  hero  and  his  country ;  and,  as  Carlyle  might 
+have  done,  at  the  corner  of  every  street  he  shows  you  the 
+groups  of  young  men  bragging  of  victory,  and  drawing  plans 
+of  Syracuse  in  the  dust.  Sometimes  the  touch  of  terror  is 
+more  immediate.  Take  his  description  of  the  Teutons  fi;om 
+the  Marius.  Their  voices  were  'wonderful  both  straunge 
+'  and  beastly  ' ;  so  Marius  kept  his  men  close  till  they  should 
+grow  accustomed  to  such  dreadful  foes.  Meanwhile  the 
+Teutons  '  were  passing  by  his  campe  six  dayes  continually 
+
+*  together  ** :  '  they  came  raking  by,'  and  '  marching  all  to- 
+'  gether  in  good  array  ;  making  a  noyse  with  their  harness 
+'  all  after  one  sorte,  they  oft  rehearsed  their  own  name, 
+^  Ambrons,  Ambrons,  Ambrons'' ;  and  the  Romans  watched 
+them,  listening  to  the  monotonous,  unhuman  call.  Here 
+and  elsewhere  Plutarch  conveys,  with  a  peculiar  magic,  the 
+sense  of  great  bodies  of  men  and  of  the  movements  thereof. 
+Now  and  then  he  secures  his  end  by  reporting  a  word  or 
+two  from  those  that  are  spying  upon  others  from  afar. 
+This  is  how  he  gives  the  space  and  silence  that  precede  a 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+battle.     Tigranes,  with  his  innumerable  host,  is  watching      INTRO- 
+Lucullus  and  the  Romans,  far  away  on  the  farther  shore    DUCT  I  ON 
+of  the   river.       '  They  seemed    but   a   handful,"*   and    kept 
+'  following   the   streame   to    meete  with    some   forde.    .   .  . 
+'  Tigranes    thought   they    had    marched    away,    and    called  Tigranes  and 
+'  for  Taxiles,  and  sayd   unto   him,   laughing :   "  Dost  thou  LucuUus 
+'  "  see,  Taxiles,  those  goodly  Roman   legyons,  whom  thou 
+'  "  praisest  to  be  men  so  invincible,  how  they  flie  away  now  ? ''"' 
+'  Taxiles  answered  the  king  againe :   "  I  would  your  good 
+'  "  fortune  (O  king)  might  work  some  miracle  this  day  :  for 
+'  "  doubtless  it  were  a  straunge    thing    that   the  Romanes 
+'  "  should  flie.     They  are  not  wont  to  wear  their  brave  cotes 
+'  "  and  furnitm-e  uppon  their  armour,  when  they  meane  onely 
+'  "  but  to  marche  in  the  fieldes :  neither  do  they  carie  their 
+'  "  shieldes   and  targets  vmcased,  nor  their  burganets  bare 
+'  "  on  their  heades,  as  they  do  at  this  present,  having  throwen 
+'  "  away  their   leather   cases   and    coveringes.      But  out  of 
+'  "  douiit,  this  goodly  furniture  we  see  so  bright  and  giitter- 
+'  "  i7ig  in  our  Jhces,  is  a  manifest  sign  that  they  intend  to 
+'  "  fight,  and  that  they  marche  towardes  us."      Taxiles  had 
+'  no  sooner  spoken  these  loorcles,  but  Liicidhis^  in  tlie  vieio 
+'  of  his  enernies,  made  his  ensign  bearer  to  turne  sodainely 
+'  that   carried  the  Jirst   Eagle,  and   the  bands   tooke   their 
+'  places  to  passe  the  river  in  order  of  battell.''     The  propor- 
+tion of  the  two  armies,  and  the  space  between  ;   the  sun 
+flashing  on  the  distant  shields  ;  the  long  suspense ;  the  king's 
+laugh   breaking   the   silence,   which   yet   gi'ows  tenser,  till 
+suddenly  the  Romans  wheel  into  line  :  in  truth,  they  have 
+been  few  between  Plutarch  and  Tolstoi  to  give  the  scale 
+and  perspective  of  battles   by  observing    such   proportion 
+in  their  art !      Here  LucuUus  and  a  handful  of  Romans, 
+like  Clive  and  his  Englishmen,  overthrew  a  nation  in  arms ; 
+elsewhere    Plutarch   gives   the    other    chance,   and   renders 
+with    touches    equally   subtle    and    direct    the    deepening 
+nightmare  of  Crassus'  march  into  the  desert.     He  tells  of  Crassus  in 
+the  Parthian    'kettle  di'ommes,  hollow  within,""   and    hung  Parthia 
+about  with  '  little  bells  and  copper  rings,"*  with  which  '  they 
+'  all  made  a  noise  everywhere  together,  and  it  is  like  a  dead 
+'  sounde.'     Does  it  not  recall  the  Aztec  war-drums  on  the 
+
+li 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+INTRO-  Noche  Triste  ?  Intent,  too,  on  creating  his  impression  of 
+DUCT  I  ON  terror,  this  rare  artist  proceeds  from  the  sense  of  hearing  to 
+the  sense  of  sight.  '  The  Romanes  being  put  in  feare  with  this 
+'  dead  sounde,  the  Parthians  straight  threw  the  clothes  and 
+'  coverings  from  them  that  hid  their  armour,  and  then 
+'  showed  their  bright  helmets  and  cui'aces  of  Margian 
+'  tempered  steele,  that  glared  like  fire ;  and  their  horses 
+'  barbed  with  steele  and  copper.'  They  canter  round  and 
+round  the  wretched  enemy,  shooting  their  shafts  as  they 
+go  ;  and  the  ammunition  never  fails,  for  camels  come  up 
+'  loden  with  quivers  full  of  arrowes.'  The  Romans  are  shot 
+through  one  by  one  ;  and  when  Crassus  '  prayed  and  be- 
+'  sought  them  to  charge  .  .  .  they  showed  him  their  handes 
+'  fast  nailed  to  their  targets  with  arrowes,  and  their  feete 
+'  likewise  shot  thorow  and  nailed  to  the  ground :  so  as  they 
+'  could  neither  flie,  nor  yet  defende  themselves.'  Thus  they 
+died,  one  before  the  other,  '  a  cruell  lingring  death,  crying 
+'  out  for  anguish  and  paine  they  felt ' ;  and  '  turning  and 
+'  tormenting  themselves  upon  the  sande,  they  broke  the 
+'  arrowes  sticking  in  them."*  The  realism  of  it !  And  the 
+pathos  of  Crassus'  speech,  when  his  son's  head  is  shown  to  him, 
+which  '  killed  the  Romanes  hartes ' !  '  The  grief  and  sorrow 
+'  of  this  losse  (my  fellowes),'  said  he,  '  is  no  man's  but  mine, 
+'  mine  only  ;  but  the  noble  successe  and  honor  of  Rome 
+'  remaineth  still  invincible,  so  long  as  you  are  yet  living.' 
+After  these  two  pictures  of  confidence  and  defeat  I  should 
+After  Pydna  like  to  give  that  one  of  the  Romans  after  Pydna,  where 
+Paulus  ^milius  was  thought  to  have  lost  his  son.  It  is  a 
+wonderful  resurrection  of  departed  life.  There  are  the  groups 
+round  the  camp-fires ;  the  sudden  clustering  of  torches 
+towards  the  one  dark  and  silent  tent ;  and  then  the  busy 
+lights  crossing  and  recrossing,  and  scattering  over  the  field. 
+You  hear  first  the  droning  songs  of  the  tired  and  happy 
+soldiers  ;  then  silence ;  then  cries  of  anxiety  and  mournful 
+echoes ;  then,  of  a  sudden,  comes  the  reappearance,  '  all 
+'  bloudied  with  new  bloude  like  the  swift-running  grey 
+'  hound  fleshed  with  the  bloude  of  the  hare,'  of  him,  the 
+missing  youth,  '  that  Scipio  which  afterwards  destroyed 
+*  both  the  citties  of  Carthage  and  Numantium.' 
+hi 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+It  is  hard  to  analyse  the  art,  for  the  means  employed  are  INTRO- 
+of  the  simplest ;  yet  it  is  certain  that  they  do  recall  to  such  DUCTION 
+as  have  known,  and  that  they  must  suggest  to  others  who 
+have  not,  those  sights  and  sounds  and  sensations  which 
+combine  into  a  special  enchantment  about  the  time  of  the 
+fall  of  darkness  upon  bodies  of  men  who  have  drunk  excite- 
+ment and  borne  toil  together  in  the  day.  How  intense, 
+too,  the  flash  of  imagination  with  which  the  coming  Afri- 
+canus  is  projected  on  the  canvas !  And  the  book  abounds 
+in  such  lightning  impressions.  Thus,  Hannibal  cracks  a 
+soldier"'s  joke  before  Cannae  ;  he  pitches  the  quip  into  his  Hannibal's 
+host,  like  a  pebble  into  the  pond ;  and  the  broken  still-  "^^^^ 
+ness  ripples  away  down  all  the  ranks  in  widening  rings  of 
+laughter.^  Sometimes  the  sketch  is  even  slighter,  and  is 
+yet  convincing :  as  when  the  elder  Scipio,  being  attacked 
+by  Cato  for  his  extravagant  administration,  declares  his 
+'  intent  to  go  to  the  wars  with  full  sayles.''  These  are  not 
+chance  effects  but  masterstrokes  of  imagination ;  yet  that 
+imagination,  vivid  and  vivifying  as  it  is,  never  leads  Plu- 
+tarch to  attempt  the  impossible.  He  remains  the  supreme 
+artist,  and  is  content  with  suggesting — what  is  incapable 
+of  representation — that  sense  of  the  portentous,  the  over- 
+powering, which  is  apparent  immediately  before,  or  im- 
+mediately behind,  some  notable  conjunction.  Alexander  Alexander  at 
+sounds  the  charge  which  is  to  change  the  fortunes  of  the  Arbela 
+world,  and  Arbela  is  rendered  in  a  few  lines.  But  up 
+till  the  instant  of  his  sounding  it,  you  are  told  of  his  every 
+act.  Plutarch,  proceeding  as  leisurely  as  his  hero,  creates 
+suspense  out  of  delay.  You  are  told  that  Alexander  slept 
+soundly  far  into  the  morning,  and  that  he  was  called  three 
+times.  You  are  told  how  carefully  he  dressed,  and  of 
+each  article  of  armour  and  apparel  he  put  on  :  his  '  Sicilian 
+'  cassocke,"*  his  '  brigandine  of  many  foldes  of  canvas,'  '  his 
+*  head  peece  bright  as  silver,'  and  '  his  coller  sute  like  to 
+'  the  same  all  set  full  of  precious  stones.""  The  battle  has 
+begun  between  the  outposts,  and  he  is  still  riding  down 
+the  lines  on  a  hack :  '  to  spare  Bucephal,  because  he  was 
+'  then  somewhat  olde.'  He  mounted  the  great  horse  '  always 
+^  Fabius  Maxinius. 
+
+liii 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+
+INTRO- 
+DUCTION 
+
+
+Suspense  out 
+of  Delay 
+
+
+After  the 
+Rubicon 
+
+
+Leuctra 
+
+
+'  at  the  last  moment ;  and  as  soone  as  he  was  gotten  up  on 
+'  his  backe,  the  trumpet  sounded,  and  he  gave  charge.'  To- 
+day it  is  made  to  seem  as  if  that  moment  would  never  come ; 
+but  at  the  last  all  things  being  ready,  '  he  tooke  his  launce 
+'  in  his  left  hande  and,  holding  up  his  right  hande  unto 
+'  heaven,  besought  the  goddes  .  .  .  that  if  it  were  true,  he 
+'  was  begotten  of  Jupiter,  it  would  please  them  that  day 
+'  to  helpe  him  and  to  incorage  the  Graecians.  The  sooth- 
+'  sayer   Aristander  was   then   a-horsebacke   hard  by  Alex- 
+
+*  ander  apparelled  all  in  white,  and  a  croune  of  gold  on 
+'  his  head,  who  shewed  Alexander  when  he  made  his 
+'  prayer,  an  Eagle  flying  over  his  head,  and  pointing 
+'  directly  towards  his  enemies.  This  marvellously  en- 
+'  couraged  all   the  armie   that   saw  it,  and  with  this  joy, 
+
+*  the  men   of  armes  of  Alexander's  side,  encouraging   one 
+
+*  another,  did  set  spurres  to  their  horse  to  charge  upon  the 
+'  enemies.'  Until  the  heroic  instant  you  are  compelled  to 
+note  the  hero's  every  deliberate  movement.  He  and  the 
+little  group  of  gleaming  figures  about  him  are  the  merest 
+specks  in  the  plain  before  the  Macedonian  army,  itself  but 
+a  handful  in  comparison  to  the  embattled  nations  in  front. 
+The  art  is  perfect  in  these  flash-pictures  of  great  moments 
+in  time :  in  the  Athenians  map-drawing  in  the  dust,  in 
+the  Romans  watching  the  Ambrons  raking  by,  in  Tigranes' 
+laugh,  in  Hannibal's  joke,  in  Alexander's  supreme  gesture ; 
+and  how  instant  in  each  the  imaginative  suggestion  of  drag- 
+ging hours  before  rapid  and  irreparable  events !  Equally 
+potent  are  the  effects  which  Plutarch  contrives  by  revealing 
+all  the  consequences  of  a  disaster  in  some  swift,  far-reach- 
+ing glimpse.  Thus,  when  Caesar  crossed  the  Rubicon, 
+'  Rome  itself  was  filled  up  with  the  flowing  repaire  of  all 
+'  the  people  who  came  thither  like  droves  of  cattell.''  And 
+thus  does  Sparta  receive  the  news  of  her  annihilation  : — '  At 
+'  that  time  there  was  by  chance  a  common  feast  day  in  the 
+'  citie  .  .  .  when  as  the  messenger  arrived  that  brought  the 
+
+*  news  of  the  battell  lost  at  Leuctres.  The  Ephori  knowing 
+'  then  that  the  rumor  ranne  all  about ;  that  they  were  all 
+
+*  undone,  and  how  they  had  lost  the  signorie  and  com- 
+'  maundement  over  all  Grece :    would  not  suffer  them  for 
+
+liv 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+'  all  this  to  breake  off  tiieir  daunce  in  the  Theater,  nor  the      INTRO- 
+
+'  citie  in  anything  to  chaunge  the  forme  of  their  feast,  but   DUCTION 
+
+*  sent  unto  the  parentes  to  everie  man"'s  house,  to  let  them 
+
+'  understande  the  names  of  them  that  were  slaine  at  the 
+
+'  battell,  they  themselves  remaining  still  in  the  Theater  to 
+
+'  see    the    daunces   and   sportes   continued,    to  judge    who 
+
+'  carried  the  best  games  away.      The  next  morning  when 
+
+'  everie  man  knew  the  number  of  them  that  were  slaine,  and 
+
+'  of  those  also  that  escaped :   the  parentes  and  frendes  of 
+
+'  them  that  were  dead,  met  in  the  market  place,  looking 
+
+'  cheerfully   of    the    matter,   and    one   of    them    embraced 
+
+'  another.      On   thother   side   the   parentes   of   them    that 
+
+'  scaped,  kept  their  houses  with  their  wives,  as  folk  that 
+
+'  mourned.   .   .   .   The   mothers   of   them,    that    kept   their 
+
+'  sonnes  which  came  from  the  battell,  were  sad  and  sorrow- 
+
+'  full,  and  spake  not  a  word.     Contrairily,  the  mothers  of 
+
+'  them  that  were  slaine,  wcmt  friendly  to  visite  one  another, 
+
+'  to  rejoyce  together.''  ^     There  is  no  word  of  the  fight.     As 
+
+Thackeray  gives  you  Waterloo  in  a  picture  of  Brussels,  so 
+
+Plutarch  gives  you  Leuctra,  and  with  more  of  beauty  and 
+
+pathos,  in  a  picture  of  Sparta.     Of  the  Roman  defeat  at  Cannae  and 
+
+Cannae  there  is  a  full  and  wonderful  account ;    but  what  an  After 
+
+effective  touch  is  added  when  '  the  Consul  Terentius  Varro 
+
+'  returning  backe  to  Rome,  with  the  shame  of  his  extreame 
+
+'  misfortune  and  overthrowe,  that  he  durste  not  looke  upon 
+
+'  any  man :  the  Senate  notwithstanding,  and  all  the  peoj)le 
+
+^Jbllowing  them,  tvent  to  the  gates  of  the  cittie  to  mecte  Mm, 
+
+'  and  dyd  honourably  receyve  him '' ! 
+
+In  these  passages  Plutarch,  following  the  course  of  Greek  His  Choice 
+tragedy,  and  keeping  the  action  off  the  stage,  gives  the  of  Occasions 
+reverberation  and  not  the  shock  of  fate ;  but  in  many 
+others  the  stark  reality  of  his  painting  is  its  own  sufficient 
+charm.  He  abounds  in  unfamiliar  aspects  of  familiar  places  : 
+places  he  invests  with  (as  it  were)  the  magic  born  of  a  wan- 
+dering son''s  return.  Here  is  his  Athens  in  her  decrepitude. 
+'The  poore  citie  of  Athens  which  had  escaped  from  so 
+'  many  warres,  tyrannies  and  civil  dissensions,"'  is  now 
+besieged  by  Sulla  without,   and  oppressed   by  the   tyrant 
+
+^  Agesilaus. 
+
+Iv 
+
+
+INTRO 
+DUCTION 
+
+
+Sulla  before 
+Athens 
+
+
+Marcellus 
+
+before 
+
+Syracuse 
+
+
+Breathless 
+Moments 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+Aristion  within  ;  and  in  his  presentment  of  her  condition 
+there  is,  surely,  a  foreshadowing  of  those  dark  ages  when 
+historic  sites  became  the  scenes  of  new  tragedies  that  were 
+merely  brutal  and  insignificant.    At  Athens  '  men  were  driven 
+
+*  for  famine  to  eate  feverfew  that  grew  about  the  castell ' ; 
+also,  they  '  caused  old  shoes  and  old  oyle  pots  to  be  sodden 
+'  to  deliver  some  savor  unto  that  which  they  did  eate,"* 
+Meanwhile  'the  tyrant  himselfe  did  nothing  all  day  long 
+'  but  cramme  in  meat,  drinke  dronke,  daunce,  maske,  scoiF 
+'  and  flowte   at  the  enemies  (suffering  the  holy  lampe  of 
+
+*  Minerva  to  go  out  for  lacke  of  oyle).""  Is  there  not  a 
+grimness  of  irony  about  this  picture  of  the  drunken  and 
+sinister  buffoon  sitting  camped  in  the  Acropolis,  like  a 
+toad  in  a  ruined  temple,  '  magnifying  the  dedes  of  Theseus 
+'  and  insulting  the  priestes  "*  ?  At  last  the  Roman  enters 
+'  the  city  about  midnight  with  a  wonderfull  fearefuU  order, 
+'  making  a  marvellous  noise  with  a  number  of  homes  and 
+'  sounding  of  trompets,  and  all  his  army  with  him  in 
+'  order  of  battell,  crying,  "  To  the  sack,  to  the  sack : 
+'  "  Kill,  kill." '  ^  A  companion  picture  is  that  of  a  Syra- 
+cuse Thucydides  never  knew.^  Archimedes  is  her  sole  de- 
+fence ;  and  thanks  to  him,  the  Roman  ships  are  '  taken 
+'  up  with  certaine  engines  fastened  within  one  contrary  to 
+'  an  other,  which  made  them  turne  in  the  ayer  like  a 
+'  whirlegigge,  and  so  cast  them  upon  the  rockes  by  the 
+'  towne  walles,  and  splitted  them  all  to  fitters,  to  the 
+'  great  spoyle  and  murder  of  the  persons  that  were  within 
+'  them."'  Elsewhere  the  Mediterranean  pirates,  polite  as 
+our  own  highwaymen,  are  found  inviting  noble  Romans 
+to  walk  the  plank  ;  ^  for  Plutarch  never  misses  a  romantic 
+touch.  Some  of  his  strongest  realisations  are  of  moments 
+when  fate  hangs  by  a  '  hair  :  as  that  breathless  and  de- 
+sperate predicament  of  Aratus  and  his  men  on  their  ladders 
+against  the  walls  of  Sicyon ;  with  the  '  curste  curres '  that 
+would  not  cease  from  barking ;  the  captain  of  the  watch 
+'  visiting  the  soldiers  with  a  little  bell ' ;  '  the  number  of 
+'torches  and  a  great  noyse  of  men  that  followed  him';  the 
+great  greyhound  kept  in  a  little  tower,  which  began  to  answer 
+
+^  Sylla.  *  Marcellus.  ^  Pompey. 
+
+Ivi 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+the  curs  at  large  'with  a  soft  girning:  but  when  they  came  INTRO- 
+'  by  the  tower  where  he  lay,  he  barked  out  alowde,  that  all  DUCTION 
+'  the  place  thereabouts  rang  of  his  barking ' ;  the  ladders 
+shaking  and  bowing  '  by  reason  of  the  weight  of  the  men, 
+'  unless  they  did  come  up  fayer  and  softly  one  after  another,' 
+till  at  last,  '  the  cocks  began  to  crowe,  and  the  country  folke 
+'  that  brought  things  to  the  market  to  sell, began  to  come  apace 
+'  to  the  townie  out  of  every  quarter,''  ^  Later  in  the  same 
+life  you  have  the  escalading  of  the  Acrocorinthus  :  when 
+Aratus  and  the  storming  party,  with  their  shoes  off,  being 
+lost  on  the  slopes,  '  sodainely,  even  as  it  had  been  by  miracle, 
+'  the  moone  appearing  through  the  clowdes,  brought  them  to 
+'  that  part  of  the  wall  where  they  should  be,  and  straight  the 
+'  moone  was  shadowed  againe ' ;  so  they  cut  down  the 
+watch,  but  one  man  escaped,  and  '  the  trompets  forthwith 
+'  sounded  the  alarom  ...  all  the  citie  was  in  an  uprore, 
+'  the  streets  were  straight  full  of  people  running  up  and 
+'  downe,  and  of  lights  in  every  comer.""  Plutarch's  manage- 
+ment of  light,  I  should  remark,  is  always  astonishingly  real ;  Light  in 
+he  never  leaves  the  sun  or  the  moon  out  of  his  picture,  nor  Plutarch 
+the  incidence  of  clouds  and  of  the  dust  of  battle.  Thus 
+varied  his  smishine  leaps  and  wavers  on  distant  armour,  or 
+glares  at  hand  from  Margian  steel ;  or  his  moonlight  glints 
+on  a  spear,  and  fades  as  the  wrack  races  athwart  the  sky. 
+
+It  is  all  the  work  of  an  incomparable  painter ;  there  is  any 
+amount  of  it  in  the  Parallel  Lives  •^'^  and,  like  his  portraits 
+and  his  landscapes,^  it  has  an  aesthetic  value  which  sets  it  far  The  Value  of 
+in  front  of  his  moral  reflections.  For  value  depends,  in  part,  his  Art 
+on  supply ;  and  of  this  kind  of  art  there  is  less  in  literature 
+than  there  is  of  ethical  disquisition.  Moreover,  in  the 
+Parallel  Lives  the  proportions  are  reversed,  and  the  volume 
+
+^  Aratus. 
+
+^  See  the  rousing  of  Greece  in  the  Philopamen  ;  the  declaration  of 
+Uberty  in  the  Flaminius  ;  the  squadron  of  the  Lacedemonians  at  Plataea  in 
+the  Aristides  ;  the  glimpse  of  Philip  at  Chaeronea  gazing  at  the  '  Holy  Band 
+'  of  Thebans  all  dead  on  the  grounde '  in  the  Pelopidas  ;  the  first  ride  of 
+Alexander  on  Bucephalus  in  the  Alexander ;  the  Macedonians  at  Pydna  in 
+the  Pauhts  ^milius. 
+
+*  See  the  country  of  the  Cimbri  in  the  Marius,  and  the  campaigns  of 
+Lucullus  and  Crassus. 
+
+h  Ivii 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+
+INTRO- 
+DUCTION 
+
+
+The 
+
+Plutarchian 
+
+World 
+
+
+of  Pliitarch''s  paintinrij  is  very  much  crreater  than  the  vokime 
+of  Plutarch's  moraHties.  And  in  addition  to  vokune,  there 
+is  charm.  His  pictures  have  kept  their  '  flourishing  fresh- 
+'  ness  "*  untarnished  through  the  ages ;  whereas  his  moral  say- 
+ings, being  sound,  have  long  since  been  accepted,  and,  as  I 
+said,  are  grown  stale.  His  morality  is  ours  ;  but  he  had  an 
+unique  opportunity  for  depicting  the  politics,  the  person- 
+alities, and  the  activity  of  a  world  which  had  passed  away. 
+A  little  earlier,  and  he  might  have  laboured  like  Thucy- 
+dides,  but  only  at  a  part  of  it.  A  little  later,  and  much 
+would  have  perished  which  he  has  set  down  and  saved. 
+He  paints  it  as  a  whole,  and  on  that  account  is  some- 
+times slighted  for  a  compiler  of  legends ;  yet  he  had  the 
+advantage  of  personal  contact  with  those  legends  while 
+they  were  still  alive ;  and  again  and  again,  as  you  read, 
+this  contact  strikes  with  a  pleasant  shock.  To  illustrate 
+his  argument  he  will  refer,  by  the  way,  to  the  statue  of  The- 
+mistocles  in  the  Temple  of  Artemis ;  to  the  effigies  of  Lucullus 
+at  Chaeronea ;  to  the  buildings  of  Pericles  in  their  divinely 
+protracted  youth.  The  house  of  Phocion  at  Melita,  and 
+the  '  cellar  "■  in  which  Demosthenes  practised  his  oratory,  were 
+'  whole  even  to  my  time.'  The  descendants  of  the  soldier 
+who  slew  Epaminondas  are,  '  to  this  day,"  known  and  dis- 
+tinguished by  the  name  '  machceriones."'  ^  On  the  battle- 
+field of  Chaeronea  '  there  was  an  olde  oke  seene  in  my  time 
+'  which  the  country  men  commonly  called  Alexander's  oke, 
+'  bicause  his  tent  or  pavilion  was  fastened  to  it.'  ^  His 
+grandfather  Nicarchus  had  told  him  how  the  defeat  of 
+Antony  relieved  his  natal  city  from  a  requisition  for  corn.^ 
+From  his  other  grandfather,  Lamprias,  he  heard  of  a 
+physician,  his  friend,  who,  '  being  a  young  man  desirous  to 
+'  see  things,'  went  over  Cleopatra's  kitchen  with  one  of 
+Antony's  cooks ;  and  there,  among  '  a  world  of  diversities  of 
+'  meates,'  encountered  with  the  'eight  wild  boares,  rosted 
+'  whole,'  which  have  passed  bodily  into  Shakespeare.  This 
+contact  was  rarely  immediate ;  but  it  was  personal,  and  it  is 
+therefore  quickening.  At  its  touch  a  dead  world  lived  again 
+for  Plutarch,  and  by  his  art  that  dead  world  lives  for  us ; 
+
+'  A,^esilaus.  *  Alexander.  ^  Aiitovius. 
+
+Iviii 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+SO  that  in  the  Lives^  as  in  no  other  book,  all  antiquity,  alike  in      INTRO- 
+detail  and  in  expanse,  lies  open  and  revealed  to  us, '  flat  as  to  an    DUCTION 
+'  eagle"'s  eye/     We  may  study  it  closely,  and  see  it  whole ; 
+and  to  do  so  is  to  dispossess  the  mind    of  many  illusions 
+fostered  by  books  of  a  narrower  scope.     Juvenal,  the  satirist,  Juvenal  and 
+and  Petronius,  the  arbiter  of  a  mode,  do  not  even  pretend  to  Petronius 
+show  forth  the  whole  of  life ;  yet  from  their  works,  and  from 
+others  of  a  like  purview,  men  have  constructed  a  fanciful 
+world  of  unbounded  cruelty  and   immitigable   lust.     This 
+same  disproportion    between    premise  and   conclusion   runs 
+through  the  writing  of  many  moderns :  j  ust  as  from  the 
+decoration  of  a  single  chamber  at  Pompeii  there  have  been 
+evoked   whole   cities,  each  in  the  image   of  a   honeycomb 
+whose  cells  are  hipanaria.    Even  so  some  archaeologist  of  the 
+future  might  take  up  an  obscene  gurgoyle,  and  transfigure 
+Christianity  to  its  image !     This  antiquity  of  cruelty  and 
+lust  has  been  evolved  for  censure  by  these,  and  by  those  for 
+praise ;   yet  if  Plutarch  be  not  the  most  collossal,  taking, 
+and  ingenious  among  the  world's  liars,  we  cannot  choose  but 
+hold   that   it  never  existed.     For,  apart  from   the  coil   of 
+politics  and  the  clamour  and  romance  of  adventure,  his  book 
+discovers   us  the  religious  and  the  home  lives  of  old-time 
+Italy  and  Greece ;  and  we  find  them  not  dissimilar  from  our 
+own.    We  see  them,  it  is  true,  with  the  eyes  of  a  kindly  and  a 
+moderate  man.    Yet  he  was  no  apologist,  with  a  case  to  plead ; 
+and  if  we  may  be  sure  that  he  was  never  uncharitable,  we 
+may   be   equally   sure   that    he   extenuated   nothing.      He 
+censures   freely  conduct   which,  according   to  the   extreme 
+theory  of  ancient  immorality,  should  scarce  have  excited  his 
+surprise ;  and  he  alludes,  by  the  way,  in  a  score  of  places,  to 
+a  loving-kindness,  extending  even  to  slaves  and  animals,  of 
+which,  according  to  the  same  theory,  he  could  have  known 
+nothing,  since  its  very  existence  is  denied.     The  State  was  The  State  and 
+more  than  it  is  now ;  but  you  cannot  glean  that  the  Family  the  Family 
+was    less,  even    in    Sparta.      Shakespeare   took    from    Plu- 
+tarch the  love  of  Coriolanus  for  his  mother,  and  found  in  it  a 
+sufficient  motive   for    his    play.      But    Veturia^   is   by  no 
+means  the  only  beloved  mother  in  the  Lives,  nor  is  Corio- 
+
+*  Shakespeare's  Volumnia. 
+
+lix 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+INTRO-  lanus  the  only  adoring  son.  Epaminondas  thought  himself 
+DUCTION  'most  happy  and  blessed'  because  his  father  and  mother 
+had  lived  to  see  the  victoiy  he  won ;  ^  and  Sertorius,  making 
+The  Mother  overtures  for  peace,  said  he  had  '  rather  be  counted  the 
+'  meanest  citizen  in  Rome,  than  being  a  banished  man  to  be 
+'  called  Emperor  of  the  world,'  and  the  '  chiefest  cause  .  .  . 
+'  was  the  tender  love  he  bare  unto  his  mother.'^  When 
+Antipater  submitted  to  Alexander  certain  well-founded 
+accusations  against  Olympiads  misgovemment :  '  "  Loe,""  said 
+'  he,  "  Antipater  knoweth  not,  that  one  teare  of  the  mothers 
+'  "  eye  will  wipe  out  tenne  thousande  such  letters." '  ^  In  face 
+of  the  parting  between  Cratesiclea  and  her  son  Cleomenes, 
+one  may  doubt  if  in  Sparta  itself  the  love  between  mother 
+and  son  was  more  than  dissembled ;  for,  on  the  eve  of  his 
+sailing,  '  she  took  Cleomenes  aside  into  the  temple  of 
+'  Neptune  and  imbracinge  and  kissinge  him ;  perceivinge 
+'  that  his  harte  yerned  for  sorrowe  of  her  departure,  she 
+'  sayed  unto  him  :  "  O  kinge  of  Lacedaemon,  lette  no  man  see 
+'  "  for  shame  when  we  come  out  of  the  temple,  that  we  have 
+'  "  wept  and  dishonoured  Sparta."" '  Indeed,  the  national  love 
+of  Spartans  for  all  children  born  to  Sparta  seems  to  have 
+been  eked  out  by  the  fonder  and  the  less  indifferent  affec- 
+tion of  each  parent  for  his  own.  If  in  battle  Henri  Quatre 
+played  Alexander,  in  the  nursery  his  model  was  Agesilaus, 
+The  Child  '  who  loved  his  children  deerely  :  and  would  play  with 
+'  them  in  his  home  when  they  were  little  ones,  and  ride 
+'  upon  a  little  cocke  horse  or  a  reede,  as  a  horseback.'  * 
+Paulus  ^milius  being  '  appointed  to  make  warre  upon 
+'  King  Perseus,  all  the  people  dyd  honorably  companie  him 
+'  home  unto  his  house,  where  a  little  girl  (a  daughter  of  his) 
+'  called  Tertia,  being  yet  an  infant,  came  weeping  unto  her 
+'  father.  He,  making  muche  of  her,  asked  her  why  she 
+'  wept.  The  poore  girl  answered,  colling  him  about  the 
+'  necke,  and  kissing  him : — "  Alas,  father,  wot  you  what  ? 
+'  "  our  Perseus  is  dead."  She  merit  by  it  a  litle  wJielpe  so 
+'  called,  which  was  her  playe  fillowe.''  Plutarch  had  lost  his 
+own  dauo-hter,  and  he  wrote  a  letter  of  consolation  to  his 
+
+
+'   Coriolanus. 
+
+Ix 
+
+
+Sertorius. 
+
+
+^  Alexander. 
+
+
+Agesilaus. 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+wife,  which  Montaigne  gave  to  his  wife  when  she  was  stricken      INTRO- 
+
+with  the  same  sorrow  :  '  bien  marry,""  as  he  says,  '  de  quoy  la    DUCTION 
+
+'  fortune  vous  a  rendu  ce  present  si  propre."  ^    In  the  Lives  he 
+
+is  ever  most  tender  towards  children,  acknowledging  the  mere 
+
+possibility  of  their  loss  for  an  ever-abiding  terror.    '  Novve,"'  he 
+
+writes  in  the  Solon, '  we  must  not  arme  ourselves  with  poverty 
+
+'  against  the  grief  of  losse  of  goodes;  neither  with  lack  of  aftec- 
+
+'  tion  against  the  losse  of  our  friendes  ;  neither  with  want  of 
+
+'  mariage  against  the  death  of  children  ;  but  we  must  be 
+
+'  armed  with   reason  against  misfortune. "*      Over  and   over 
+
+again  you  come  upon  proof  of  the  love  and  the  compassion 
+
+children  had.    At  the  triumph  of  the  same  ^milius,  through 
+
+three  days  of  such  magnificence  as  Mantegna  has  displayed, 
+
+the  eyes  of  Rome  were  all  for  Perseus'"  children :    '  when 
+
+'  they  sawe  the  poore  little  infants,  that  they  knewe  not  the 
+
+*  change  of  their  hard  fortune  .  .  .  for  the  compassion  they 
+
+'  had  of  them,  almost  let  the  father  passe  without  looking  The  Father 
+
+'  upon  him."     Of  J^milius"*  own  sons,  one  had  died  five  days 
+
+before,  and    the  other  three    days   survived,  that  triumph 
+
+for  which  the  father  had  been  given  four  hundred  golden 
+
+diadems  by  the  cities  of  Greece.     But  he  pronounced  their 
+
+funeral  orations  himself '  in  face  of  the  whole  cittie  .  .  .  not 
+
+'  like  a  discomforted  man,  but  like  one  rather  that  dyd  com- 
+
+'  forte  his  sorrowfuU  countrymen  for  his   mischance.      He 
+
+'  told   them  ...  he  ever  feared  Fortune,  mistrusting  her 
+
+'  change  and  inconstancy,  and  specially  in  the  last  warre.*" 
+
+But    Rome    had    won ;    and    all    was    well,    '  saving   that 
+
+'  Perseus  yet,  conquered  as  he  is,  hath  this  comforte  left 
+
+'  him :    to  see  his  children  living,  and  that  the  conqueror 
+
+'  iEmylius  hath  lost  his."*     This  love  between  children  and 
+
+parents  might  be  expected  in  any  picture  of  any  society  ; 
+
+yet  it  is  conspicuous  in  the  Parallel  Lives  as  it  is  not,  1 
+
+believe,  in   any  reconstruction    of  the   Plutarchian    world. 
+
+Note,  too,  the  passionate  devotion  between  brothers,  dis-  The  Brother 
+
+played  even  by   Cato  of  Utica,^  to  the    scandal   of  other 
+
+Stoics  ;  and  note  everywhere  the  loyal  comradeship  between 
+
+'  Cruserius,  who  translated  the  Lives  into  Latin  (1561),  by  a  strange  co- 
+incidence, mourned  his  daughter's  loss  and  found  consolation  in  his  task. 
+^  Cato  Utican. 
+
+Ixi 
+
+
+INTRO- 
+DUCTION 
+
+The  Wife 
+
+
+Animals  and 
+Slaves 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+husbands  and  wives.  To  Plutarch  wedlock  is  so  sacred  that 
+he  is  fierce  in  denouncing  a  certain  political  marriage  as 
+being  '  cruell  and  tyrannicall,  fitter  for  Sylla's  time,  rather 
+'  than  agreable  to  Pompey's  nature.'  ^  Perhaps  the  com- 
+monest view  of  antique  morality  is  that  which  accepts  a 
+family  not  unlike  the  family  we  know,  but  at  the  same  time 
+denies  the  ancients  all  consideration  for  their  domestic 
+animals  and  slaves.  This  tendency,  it  is  thought,  is  a  pro- 
+duct of  Christianity  ;  and  the  example  of  the  elder  Cato  is 
+sometimes  quoted  in  proof  of  the  view.  But  in  Plutarch*'s 
+Cato,  the  Roman's  habit  of  selling  his  worn-out  slaves  is 
+given  for  an  oddity,  for  the  exceptional  practice  of  an  eccentric 
+old  man  ;  and  Plutarch  takes  the  occasion  to  expound  his 
+own  feeling.  '  There  is  no  reason,'  he  writes,  '  to  use  livinge 
+'  and  sensible  thinges  as  we  would  use  an  old  shooe  or  a 
+'  ragge :  to  cast  it  out  upon  the  dongehill  when  we  have 
+'  worn  it  and  it  can  serve  us  no  longer.  For  if  it  were  for  no 
+'  respect  els  but  to  use  us  alwayes  to  humanitie,  we  must  ever 
+'  showe  ourselves  kinde  and  gentle,  even  in  such  small  poyntes 
+'  of  pitie.  And  as  for  me,  I  coulde  never  finde  in  my  heart  to 
+'  sell  my  drawt  oxe  that  hadde  ploughed  my  land  a  long  time, 
+'  bicause  he  coulde  plowe  no  longer  for  age.'  Here  we  have  a 
+higher  standard  of  humanity  than  obtains  in  living  England, 
+and  it  is  a  mistake  to  suppose,  as  some  have  done,  that 
+it  was  peculiar  to  Plutarch.  On  the  contrary,  his  book 
+is  alive  with  illustrations  of  the  same  consideration  for 
+domestic  pets  and  beasts  of  service.  A  mule  employed  in 
+building  a  temple  at  Athens,  used  to  '  come  of  herselfe  to 
+'  the  place  of  labour ' :  a  docility,  '  which  the  people  liked  so 
+'  well  in  the  poore  beast,  that  they  appointed  she  shoulde  be 
+'  kept  whilest  she  lived,  at  the  charge  of  the  town.'  How 
+many  corporations,  I  wonder,  would  lay  a  like  load  on 
+the  rates  to-day  ?  In  a  score  of  passages  is  evidence  of  the 
+belief  that  '  gentleness  goeth  farther  than  justice.' ^  When 
+the  Athenians  depart  from  Attica,  the  most  heartrending 
+picture  is  of  the  animals  they  leave  deserted  on  the  sea-coast. 
+'  There  was  besides  a  certen  pittie  that  made  men's  harts  to 
+'  yerne,  when  they  saw  the  poore  doggs,  beasts,  and  cattell 
+^  Pompey.  ^  Cato. 
+
+Ixii 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+'  ronne  up  and  dounc  bleating,  mouing,  and  howling  out      INTRO- 
+
+'  alowde  after  their  masters  in  token  of  sorrow  when  they    DUCTION 
+
+'  dyd  imbark.''     Xantippus'  dog,  '  that  swam  after  them  to 
+
+'  Salamis  and  dyed  presently,'  is  there  interred ;  and  '  they 
+
+'  saye  at  this  daye  the  place  called  the  Doggs  Grave  is  the 
+
+'  very  place  where  he  was  buried.'  ^     With  like  honour  the 
+
+mares  of  Cimon,  who  was  fond  of  racing,  are  buried  at  his 
+
+side.     Indeed,  the  ancients,  far  from  being  callous,  were,  as 
+
+some  would  now  think,  over-sentimental  about  their  horses 
+
+and  dogs.     Having  no  slaves  of  our  own,  it  is  easy  for  us  to 
+
+denounce  slave-owning.     But  this  is  noteworthy  :  that  while 
+
+Plutarch,  the  ancient,  in  dealing  with  the  revolt  of  Spartacus 
+
+and  his  fellow-slaves,  speaks  only  of '  the  wickedness  of  their 
+
+'  master,'  and  pities  their  hard  lot,  North,  the  modern,  dubs 
+
+them  '  rebellious  rascalls^  ^  without  a  word  of  warrant  either 
+
+in  the  nearer  French  or  in  the  remoter  Greek. 
+
+It  is,  indeed,  far  easier  to  pick  up  points  of  resemblance  Plutarch's 
+than  to  discover  material  differences  between  the  social  life  ^V'orld  and 
+depicted  by  Plutarch  and  our  own  ;  and  the  likeness  extends  '^'"^ 
+even  to  those  half- shades  of  feeling  and  illogical  sentiment 
+which  often  seem  peculiar  to  a  generation.  To  turn  from 
+contemporary  life  to  the  Parallel  Lives,  is  to  find  everywhere 
+the  same  natural  but  inconsequent  deference  to  birth  amid 
+democratic  institutions ;  ^  the  same  belief  that  women  have 
+recently  won  a  freedom  unknown  to  their  grandmothers  ;  the 
+same  self-satisfaction  in  new  developments  of  culture  ;  the 
+same  despair  over  the  effects  of  culture  on  a  pristine  morality. 
+There  are  even  iiTesistible  appeals  to  the  good  old  days. 
+Numa,  for  instance,  '  enured  women  to  speak  little  by  for- 
+'  bidding  them  to  speak  at  all  except  in  the  presence  of  their 
+'  husbands,'  and  with  such  success,  that  a  woman  '  chauncing 
+'  one  daye  to  pleade  her  cause  in  persone  before  the  judges 
+'  the  Senate  hearing  of  it,  did  send  immediately  unto  the 
+'  oracle  of  Apollo,  to  know  what  that  did  prognosticate  to 
+'  the  cittie.'  *      Here  was  a  beginning ;   and  the  rest  soon 
+
+^  Themistocles. 
+
+-  Crassus. 
+
+'*  See  Themistocles  as  the  rival  of  Cimon. 
+
+*  Comparison  of  Au»ia  Fompilitis  with  Lycutgus. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+
+INTRO- 
+DUCTION 
+
+
+Culture 
+
+
+The  Greek 
+Influence 
+
+
+followed.  Just  as  Greek  historians  had  branded  the  first 
+murderers  and  parricides  by  name,  even  so  '  the  Romanes  doe 
+'  note  .  .  .  that  the  wife  of  one  Pinarius,  called  Thaloea,  was 
+'  the  first  which  ever  brauled  or  quarrelled  with  her  mother- 
+'  in-law.'  1  That  was  in  the  days  of  Tarquin.  By  Pompey"'s 
+time — though  he,  indeed,  was  fortunate  in  a  wife  unspoiled 
+by  her  many  accomplishments — the  revolution  is  complete. 
+His  Cornelia  '  could  play  well  on  the  harpe,  was  skilfull  in 
+'  musicke  and  geometric,  and  tooke  great  pleasure  also  in 
+'  philosophic,  and  not  vainly  without  some  profit "" ;  yet  was 
+she  '  very  modest  and  sober  in  behaviour,  without  braul- 
+'  ing  and  foolish  curiosity,  which  commonly  young  women 
+'  have,  that  are  indued  with  such  singular  giftes."*  Such  a 
+woman  was  the  product  of  the  Greek  culture,  and  for  that 
+Plutarch  has  nothing  but  praise.^  It  was  first  introduced, 
+he  tells  you,  after  the  siege  of  Syracuse  ;  for  Marcellus  it 
+was  who  brought  in  '  fineness  and  curious  tables,'  '  pic- 
+'  tures  and  statues,'  to  supplant  the  existing  '  monu- 
+'  ments  of  victories ' :  things  in  themselves  '  not  pleasant,  but 
+'  rather  fearfull  sightes  to  look  upon,  farre  unfit  for  femi- 
+nine eyes.'  ^  In  all  this  there  is  little  that  differs  from  the 
+life  we  know  :  you  have  the  same  facts  and  the  same  re- 
+flexions— especially  the  same  reflexions.  For  our  own  age  is 
+akin  to  the  age  of  Plutarch,  in  so  far  as  both  are  certain 
+centuries  in  rear  of  an  influx  of  Hellenic  ideas.  Those  ideas 
+reconquered  the  West  in  the  fifteenth  century  ;  and  since 
+this  second  invasion  the  results  of  the  first  have  been  re- 
+peated in  many  directions.  Certain  phases,  indeed,  of 
+thought  and  feeling  in  Plutarch's  age  are  re-echoed  to-day 
+still  more  distinctly  than  in  the  world  of  his  Renaissance 
+translators.  For  in  remoteness  from  the  point  of  first  con- 
+tact with  Greek  influence,  and  in  the  tarnish  of  disillusion 
+which  must  inevitably  discolour  any  prolonged  development, 
+this  century  of  ours  is  more  nearly  allied  to  Plutarch's  than 
+the  sixteenth  was,  with  its  young  hope  and  unbounded  enthu- 
+siasm.    The  older  activity  reminds  you  of  the  times  which 
+
+^  Comparison  of  Numa  Pompilius  with  Lycurgus. 
+
+^  See  his  defence  of  it  in   Cicero^  his  attack  on   Cato  for  opposing  it, 
+and  passim.  ^  Marcellus. 
+
+Ixiv 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+Plutarch  painted  ;  the  modern  temper,  of  the  times  in  which      INTRO- 
+he  wrote.  DUCTION 
+
+But  in  the  frail  rope  which  the  mind  of  man  is  ever  weav- 
+ing, that  he  may  cling  to  something  in  the  void  of  his 
+ignorance,  there  is  one  strand  which  runs  through  all  the 
+Plutarchian  centuries ;  which  persists  in  his  own  age  and  on  A  Difference 
+into  the  age  of  his  early  translators ;  but  which  in  England 
+has  been  fretted  almost  through.  Nobody  can  read  the 
+Parallel  Lives  without  remarkino;  the  signal  change  which 
+has  fallen  upon  man's  attitude  towards  the  supernatural. 
+Everywhere  in  Plutarch,  by  way  of  both  narrative  and 
+comment,  you  find  a  confirmed  belief  in  omens,  portents, 
+and  ghosts :  not  a  pious  opinion,  but  a  conviction  bulking 
+huge  in  everyday  thought,  and  exerting  a  constant  influence 
+on  the  ordinary  conduct  of  life.  Death  and  disaster,  good 
+fortune  and  victory,  never  come  without  forewarning.  Before  Omens 
+great  Caesar  fell  there  were  '  fires  in  the  element  .  .  .  spirites 
+'  running  up  and  downe  in  the  nighte  ""  and  '  solitary  birdes 
+'  to  be  scene  at  noone  dayes  sittinge  in  the  great  market- 
+'  place.'  ^  Nor  only  before  a  great  event,  but  also  after  it, 
+occur  these  sympathetic  perturbations  in  the  other  world : 
+'  the  night  being  come,  such  things  fell  out,  as  maye  be 
+'  looked  for  after  so  terrible  a  battle.'  ^  The  w^ood  quaked, 
+and  a  voice  criod  out  of  heaven  !  AlHed  to  and  alongside 
+of  this  belief  in  an  Unseen  in  touch  with  the  living:  world 
+at  every  hour  of  the  day-time  and  night,  you  have  the 
+solemn  practice  of  obscure  rites  and  the  habitual  observance  Rites  and 
+of  customs  half-insignificant.  Some  of  these  are  graceful ;  Customs 
+others  embaiTassing.  The  divination,  for  instance,  of  the 
+Spartan  Ephors  must  often,  at  least  in  August  and  Novem- 
+ber, have  shaken  public  confidence  in  the  State;  for  they 
+'  did  sit  downe  in  some  open  place,  and  beheld  the  stars  in 
+'  the  element,  to  see  if  they  saw  any  starre  shoote  from  one 
+*  place  to  another,'  and  '  if  they  did,  then  they  accused  tJwir 
+'  king.''  3  To  us,  this  giving  of  the  grotesque  and  the  terrible 
+in  the  same  breath,  without  distinction  or  comment,  is 
+strangely  incongruous.  Sulla's  bloody  entry  into  Rome  was 
+doubly  foreshadowed :    there  was    the   antic   disposition   of 
+
+1  Julius  CcBsar.  -  Publicola.  ^  Agis  and  Cleomenes. 
+
+i  Ixv 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+
+INTRO-  certain  rats,  which  first  gnawed  'some  juells  of  golde  in  a 
+DUCTION  '  church,'' and  then,  being  trapped  by  the  'sexton,**  ate  up 
+their  young ;  and  again,  '  when  there  was  no  cloude  to  be 
+'  seen  in  the  element  at  all,  men  heard  such  a  sharp  sound 
+'  of  a  trompet,  as  they  were  almost  out  of  their  wits  at  so 
+'  great  a  noise."  ^  No  scientific  explanation,  even  if  one  were 
+forthcoming,  could  suffice  to  lull  suspicion  in  a  pious  mind. 
+iEmilius  understood  as  well  as  any  the  cause  of  the  moon's 
+eclipse :  '  nevertheless,  he  being  a  godly  devout  man,  so  soon 
+'  as  he  perceyved  the  moone  had  recovered  her  former  bright- 
+
+Dies  nefasti  '  ness  againe,he  sacrificed  eleven  calves/^  To  add  to  the  incon- 
+venience of  this  habit  of  mind,  there  were  more  unlucky  days 
+in  the  year  than  holidays  in  the  mediaeval  calendar.  It  was 
+such  a  day  that  marred  the  prospect  of  Alcibiades""  return  : 
+for  '  there  were  some  that  misliked  very  much  the  time  of 
+'  his  landing :  saying  it  was  very  unluckie  and  imfortunate. 
+'  For  the  very  day  of  his  returne,  fell  out  by  chaunce  on  the 
+'  feast  which  they  call  Plynteria,  as  you  would  saye,  the 
+'  washing   day.'^     Such  feasts,  with  their  half-meaningless 
+
+Festivals  customs,  accompanied  the  belief  in  portents  and  ghosts  and 
+
+the  ordinary  forms  of  ritual,  being  but  another  fruit  of  the 
+same  intellectual  habit.  Some  of  them  seem  absm'd  ana- 
+chronisms in  the  Rome  of  Julius  Caesar,  At  the  Lupercal, 
+for  instance,  even  in  Caesar's  day,  as  every  one  knows  from 
+Shakespeare,  young  men  of  good  family  still  ran  naked 
+through  the  streets,  touching  brides  at  the  request  of  their 
+husbands.*  Again,  on  the  feast  of  the  goddess  Matuta, 
+'  they  cause  a  chamber  mayde  to  enter  into  her  temple,  and 
+'  there  they  boxe  her  about  the  eares.  Then  they  put  her 
+'  out  of  the  temple,  and  do  embrace  their  brothers'  children 
+'  rather  than  their  own.'  ^  There  is  no  end  to  these  customs : 
+customs  which  are  as  it  were  costumes  of  the  mind,  partly 
+devised  to  cover  its  nakedness,  and  partly  expressed  in  fancy. 
+Plutarch  tries  sometimes  to  explain  their  origin  ;  but  he  can 
+only  hazard  a  guess.  Nobody  remembers  what  they  mean. 
+They  are,  rather,  a  picturesque  means  of  asserting  that  there 
+really  is  an  undercurrent  of  meaning  in  the  world. 
+
+
+Ixvi 
+
+
+Sylla.  "  Patilus  ^miliiis. 
+
+*  Julius  CcEsar. 
+
+
+'  Alcibiades. 
+Furius  Camillus. 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+Beyond  and  above  these  mummeries,  now  so  strange,  in  a  INTRO- 
+loftier  range  of  Plutarch''s  thought  is  much  that  is  famihar  DUCTION 
+and  near.  Of  some  miracles  he  writes  almost  as  an  apologist. 
+It  is  said  that '  images  .  . .  have  been  heard  to  sighe  :  that  they 
+'  have  turned :  and  that  they  have  made  certen  signes  with 
+'  their  eyes.'  These  reports  '  are  not,'  he  adds,  '  incredible, 
+'  nor  lightly  to  be  condemned.  But  for  such  matters  it  is 
+'  daungerous  to  give  too  much  credit  to  them,  as  also  to  dis- 
+'  credit  them  too  much,  by  reason  of  the  weaknes  of  man's 
+'  nature,  which  hath  no  certen  bomides,  nor  can  rule  itself, 
+'  but  ronneth  sometimes  to  vanitie  and  superstition,  and 
+'  otherwhile  also  despiseth  and  condemneth  holy  and  divine 
+'  matters.'  ^  On  such  points  of  belief,  as  on  the  immediate 
+inspiration  of  individuals,  '  the  waye  is  open  and  large ' :  ^ 
+each  must  decide  for  himself,  remembering  that  religion  is  God  in 
+the  mean  between  superstition  and  impiety.  On  the  other  Plutarch 
+hand,  never  once  does  Plutarch  admit  a  doubt  of  the  Divine 
+Government  of  the  world.  He  approves  his  Alexander's 
+saying  :  'that  God  generally  was  father  to  all  mortall  men.'^ 
+And  in  a  magnificent  passage  of  North's  English  which  might 
+almost  have  come  out  of  the  book  of  Common  Prayer,  he 
+upholds  the  view  of  Pythagoras  :  '  who  thought  that  God  was 
+'  neither  sensible  nor  mortall,  but  invisible,  incorruptible 
+and  only  intelligible.'  ^ 
+
+
+III 
+
+In  substance,  then,  the   book   stands   alone.      Its   good  Two  Trans- 
+fortune    has    been   also    unexampled.       By   a   chance    this  lators 
+singular  image  of  the  ancient  world  has  been  happy  beyond 
+others  in  the  manner  of  its  transmission  to  our  time.     To 
+
+^  Furins  Camilliis.  "  Ntima  Ponipilius. 
+
+^  Alexander,  Cf.  Plutarch's  Morals,  Phil.  Holland,  1657 :  the  eighth 
+book  of  Symposiaques  ;  the  first  question,  p.  628. 
+
+■*  In  the  Brutus  North  credits  its  hero  with  a  declaration  of  belief  in 
+another  life.  But  this  is  a  mistranslation  of  Amyot's  French.  We  know,  how- 
+ever, with  what  passionate  conviction  Plutarch  held  this  belief  in  '  a  better 
+'  place,  and  a  happier  condition,'  from  the  conclusion  of  his  '  consolatory 
+'  letter,  sent  unto  his  own  wife,  as  touching  the  death  of  her  and  his 
+'  daughter.' — Morals^  Phil.  Holland,  1657,  p.  442. 
+
+Ixvii 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+INTRO-  quote  a  Quarterly  Reviewer:^  'There  is  no  other  case  of  an 
+DUCTION  '  ancient  writer — whether  Greek  or  Latin — becoming  as  well 
+'  known  in  translations  as  he  was  in  the  classical  world,  or  as 
+'  great  modern  writers  are  in  the  modern  one '' ;  and  for  this 
+chance  we  have  to  thank  one  man,  Jaques  Amyot.  But  for 
+his  version  we  should  have  received  none  from  North ;  and 
+without  these  two,  Plutarch  must  have  remained  sealed  to  all 
+but  Greek  scholars.  For  the  Daciers  and  the  Langhornes 
+could  never  have  conquered  in  right  of  their  own  impoverished 
+prose.  They  palmed  it  off  on  a  public  still  dazzled  by  the 
+fame  wherewith  their  forerunners  had  illuminated  the  Lives  \ 
+and  when  these  were  ousted  from  recollection,  their  own  fate 
+became  a  simple  matter  of  time. 
+Jaques  The  son  of  a  butcher,^  or  a  draper,^  Jaques  Amyot  was 
+
+Amyot  born  at  Melun  in  1513,  and  was  sent  as  a  boy  by  his  parents 
+
+to  study  at  Paris.  You  find  him  there  at  fifteen,  at  Cardinal 
+Lemoine''s  college,  and  two  yeai's  later  following  the  lectures 
+of  Thusan  and  Danes.  For  the  University,  still  hide-bound 
+in  scholastic  philosophy,  was  nothing  to  his  purpose  of 
+mastering  Greek.  It  was  hard  in  those  years,  even  for  the 
+rich,  to  find  books  in  Greek  character,*  and  Amyot  must 
+live  on  the  loaves  his  mother  sent  him  by  the  river  barges, 
+and  wait  for  a  pittance  on  his  fellow-students.  Yet  he 
+toiled  on  with  romantic  enthusiasm,  reading  by  the  firelight 
+for  lack  of  candles ;  till  at  last  he  knew  all  they  could  teach 
+him,  and  left  Paris  to  become  a  tutor  at  Bourges.  There, 
+thanks  to  Marguerite  de  NavaiTe,^  he  obtained  a  chair  in  the 
+University,  whence  he  lectm'ed  twice  a  day  on  Greek  and 
+Latin  letters  during  twelve  years.  It  was  in  these  years 
+that  he  began  his  great  work  as  a  translator :  completing  in 
+all  probability  the  Ethiopian  History,^  and  the  more  famous 
+
+^  Vol.  ex.,  No.  220,  p.  459,  Oct.  1861.     Apparently  Archbishop  Trench. 
+
+^  Brantome. 
+
+^  Blignieres.  According  to  another,  parentibus  honestis  fnagis  qjia??i 
+copiosis. 
+
+■*  Before  1530  only  a  few  Homeric  Hymns  and  some  essays  of  Plutarch  had 
+been  published. 
+
+^  The  Marguerite  of  The  Hcptameron. 
+
+^  Published  in  1547  with  an  interesting  passage  in  the  proem  :  '  Et  n'avoit 
+'  ce  livre  jamais  este  imprime,   sinon  depuis  que  la  librairie  du  roi  Matthias 
+
+Ixviii 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+Daphnis  and  Chloe}     But,  at  the  instance  of  Marguerite''s      INTRO- 
+
+brother,  Francois  i.,  he  also  began  the  Lives,  receiving  by    DUCTION 
+
+way  of  incentive  the  Abbacy  of  Bellozane  ;^  and  to  prosecute 
+
+this  purpose,  soon  after  the  king''s  death,  he  made  a  scholar's 
+
+pilgrimage  to  Italy.     In  the  Library  of  St.  Mark  at  Venice 
+
+he   rediscovered    the    Lives   of  Diodorus   Siculus ;  ^    in    the 
+
+Library  of  the  Vatican  a  more  perfect  ms.  of  the  Ethiopian 
+
+History.     But  search  as  he  might  during  his  two  years'  stay 
+
+at  Rome,  he  could  never  recover  the  missing  lives  of  Plutarch. 
+
+He  laboured  on  the  text,  but  those  which  /'  injurie  du  temps 
+
+nous  avoit  enviSes,^  were  gone  past  retrieving.     On  his  return 
+
+the  scholar  became  a  courtier,  in  the  castles  of  the  Loire,  and 
+
+something  of  a  diplomat;  for  he  acted  as  the  emissary  of 
+
+Henri  ii.  at  the  Council  of  Trent,  playing  an  inconspicuous 
+
+part  grossly  exaggerated  by  De  Thou.      In  1554  he  was 
+
+appointed  tutor  to  the  young  princes  who  were  to  rule  as 
+
+Charles  ix.  and  Henri  iii.     In  1559  he  published  the  Lives ;  First  Edition 
+
+the  next  yeai-,  on  the  accession  of  his  elder  pupil,  he  was  made  of  the  Vies 
+
+Grand  Almoner  of  France ;   and  in  1570  he  became  Bishop 
+
+of  Auxerre.     In  1572  he  published  the  Morals:,  but  this 
+
+book,  like  the  Frangiade,  published  in  the  same  year,  fell 
+
+comparatively  dead.     The  halcyon  days  of  scholars  and  poets 
+
+ended  with  the  St.   Bartholomew ;   and  thenceforward  the 
+
+darkness    deepened    over   these    two   and   all    the   brilliant 
+
+company  which  had  gathered  round  Catherine  and  Diane  de 
+
+Poictiers.     In  1588  the  full  fury  of  the  Catholic  League  fell 
+
+upon  Amyot,  for  standing  by  his  king  after  the  murder  of 
+
+the  Guise.     His  diocese  revolted  at  the  instigation  of  Claude 
+
+Trahy,  a  truculent  monk ;  and  the  last  works  he  published 
+
+are  his  Apology  and  Griefs  des  Plaintes.     In  August  1589 
+
+he  wrote  to  the  Due  de  Nivernais  :    '  Je  suis  le  plus  afflige, 
+
+'  Corvin  fut  saccagee,  au  quel  sac  il  se  trouva  un  soldat  allemant  qui  mit  la 
+'  main  dessus  pour  ce  qu'il  le  vit  richement  estofe,  et  le  vendit  a  celuy  qui 
+'  depuys  le  fit  imprimer  en  Allemaigne. ' 
+
+^  Published  without  his  name  as  late  as  1559.  As  tutor  to  the  young 
+princes  he  seems  to  have  entertained  a  certain  scruple,  which  even  led  him  to 
+suppress  one  passage  in  his  translation. 
+
+^  1546.     The  last  benefice  bestowed  by  Frangois. 
+
+2  Of  which  he  translated  and  published  seven  in  1554. 
+
+■*  Amyot :  Atix  Ledeiirs. 
+
+Ixix 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+INTRO-      '  destruit  et  ruine  pauvre  prebstre  qui,  comme  je  crois,  soit  en 
+
+DUCTION  '  France';  in  1591  he  was  divested  of  his  dignities  ;i  and  in 
+
+1593  he  died.     His  long  life  reflects  the  changing  features  of 
+
+his  time.     In  youth  he  was  a  scholar  accused  of  scepticism, 
+
+in  old  age  a  divine  attacked  for  heresy,  and  for  some  pleasant 
+
+years  between,  a  courtier  pacing  with  poets  and  painters  the 
+
+long   galleries  of  Amboise   and  Chenonceaux :    as  we  may 
+
+think,  well  within  earshot  of  those  wide  bay-^vindows  where  the 
+
+daughters  of  France    'entourees   de   leurs   gouvernantes  et 
+
+'  filles  d'honneur,  s'edifioient  grandement  aux  beaux  dits  des 
+
+'  Grecs  et  des  Romains,  rememoriez  par  le  doulx  Plutarchus.'  ^ 
+
+He   was,  then,  a  scholar  touched  with  the  wonder  of  a 
+
+L^'  time  which  saw,  as  in  Angelo's  Last  Judgment^  the  great 
+
+works  of  antiquity  lifting  their  limbs  from  the  entombing 
+
+dust  of  oblivion  ;  and  he  was  a  courtier  behind  the  scenes  in 
+
+His  Accuracy  a  great  age  of  political  adventure.  Was  he  also  an  accurate 
+translator  ?  According  to  De  Thou,  he  rendered  his  original 
+'majore  elegantia  quam  fide';  according  to  Meziriac,^  he 
+was  guilty  of  two  thousand  blunders.*  The  verdict  was 
+agreeable  to  the  presumption  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
+and  was,  of  course,  confirmed  by  the  eighteenth ;  but  it  has 
+been  revised.  Given  the  impossibility  of  finding  single 
+equivalents  in  the  young  speech  of  the  Renaissance,  for  the 
+literary  and  philosophic  connotations  of  a  language  labom-ed 
+during  six  hundred  years  ;  and  given  the  practice  of  choosing 
+without  comment  the  most  plausible  sense  of  a  corrupted 
+passage,  the  better  opinion  seems  to  be  that  Amyot  lost 
+little  in  truth,  and  gained  ever}i;hing  in  charm.  '  It  is  sur- 
+'  prising,'  says  Mr.  Long,^  and  his  word  shall  be  the  last,  '  to 
+'  find  how  correct  this  old  French  translation  generally  is.' 
+
+His  Style  The  question  of  style  is  of  deeper  importance.  Upon  this 
+Ste.-Beuve  acutely  remarks^  that  the  subtlety  of  Plutarch, 
+as  of  Augustine,  and  the  artless  good-nature  of  Amyot  belong 
+each  to  its  age  ;  and,  further,  are  more  apparent  to  us  than 
+
+^  Grand  Almoner  and  Librarian  of  the  Royal  Library. 
+-  Brantome. 
+
+^  Who  undertook  to  translate  Plutarch,  but  failed  to  do  so. 
+*  Discours  de  la  Traduction,  1635  (cf.  Blignieres,  p.  435). 
+5  Plutarch's  Lives',  Aubrey  Stewart,  M.A.,  and  the  late  George  Long, 
+M.A.,  18S0,  vol.  i.  p.  xvii.  ^  Causeries  du  Lundi,  iv,  469. 
+
+Ixx 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+real  in  their  authors.  We  may  say,  indeed,  without  extrava-  INTRO- 
+gance,  that  the  youth  of  Amyofs  style,  modifying  the  age  DUCTION 
+of  Plutarch's,  achieves  a  mean  in  full  and  natural  harmony 
+with  Plutarch's  matter.  In  Amyot's  own  opinion,  so  great 
+a  work  must  appeal  to  all  men  of  judgment '  en  quelque  style 
+'  qu'il  soit  mis,  pourveu  qu'il  s'entende ' ;  ^  yet  his  preoccupa- 
+tion on  this  point  was  punctilious.  He  found  in  Plutarch 
+a  '  scabreuse  asperite ' — '  epineuse  et  ferree '  are  Montaigne's 
+epithets — ^yet  set  himself  '  a  representer  aucunement  et  a  His  Aim  in 
+'  adumbrer  la  forme  de  style  et  maniere  de  parler  d'iceluy ' :  ^  Translation 
+apologising  to  any  who  on  that  account  should  find  his 
+language  less  '  coulant '  than  of  yore.  But  Amyot  was  no 
+pedant ;  he  would  render  his  original,  not  ape  him ;  he 
+would  write  French,  and  not  rack  it.  He  borrowed  at  need 
+from  Greek  and  Italian,  but  he  was  loyal  to  his  own  tongue. 
+'  Nous  prendrons,'  said  he — and  the  canon  is  unimpeachable — 
+'les  mots  qui  sont  les  plus  propres  pour  signifier  la  chose 
+'  dont  nous  voulons  parler,  ceux  qui  nous  sembleront  plus 
+'  doux,  qui  sonneront  le  mieux  a  Toreille,  qui  seront  cou- 
+'  tumierement  en  la  bouche  des  bien  parlants,  qui  seront 
+'  bons  fran^ois  et  non  etrangers.""  To  render  late  Greek  into 
+early  French  is  not  easy ;  so  he  takes  liis  time.  Not  a  word 
+is  there  save  to  further  his  conquest  of  Plutarch's  meaning ; 
+but  all  his  words  are  marshalled  in  open  order,  and  they  pace  at 
+leisure.  For  his  own  great  reward  Montaigne  wTote:  '  Je  donne  His  Results 
+'  la  palme  avecque  raison,  ce  me  semble,  a  Jaques  Amyot,  sur 
+'  tons  nos  escripvains  Francois ' ;  and  he  remains  the  earliest 
+classic  accepted  by  the  French  Academy.  But  for  our  delight 
+he  found  Plutarch  a  language  which  could  be  translated  into 
+Elizabethan  English. 
+
+If  Amyot  was  the  right  man  for  Plutai'ch,  North  was  the  Sir  Thomas 
+right  man  for  Amyot.     He  was  born  the  second  and  yoimgest  ^^^h 
+son  of  Edward,  first  Baron  North,  about  the  year  1535,  and 
+educated,  in  all  probability,  at  Peterhouse,  Cambridge.^     His 
+father  was  one  of  those  remarkable  men  of  law  who,  through 
+all   the   ranging   political   and   religious  vicissitudes   under 
+
+^  Dedication  to  Henri  il.  -  Aux  Lecieurs, 
+
+"  See  Dictionary  of  National  Biography,  which  gives  fuller  information 
+than  I  have  found  elsewhere. 
+
+Ixxi 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE   NOBLE 
+
+
+INTRO-      Henry  vii.,  Henry  viii.,  Edward  vi.,  Queen  Jane,  Mary,  and 
+
+DUCTION  Elizabeth — so  disastrous  to  the  older  nobility — ever  con- 
+trived to  make  terms  with  the  winning  side ;  until,  dying  in 
+1564,  a  peer  of  the  realm  and  Lord  Lieutenant  of  Cambridge- 
+shire and  the  Isle  of  Ely,  he  was  buried  in  Kirtling  Church, 
+where  his  monumental  inscription  may  still  be  read  in  the 
+chancel.     His  son  Thomas  was  also  entered  a  student  at 
+
+Lincoln's  Inn  Lincoln's  Inn  (1557),  but  he  soon  prefeiTed  letters  before 
+law.  He  was  generally,  Leicester  wrote  to  Burghley,  'a 
+'  very  honest  gentleman,  and  hath  many  good  things  in  him, 
+'  which  are  drowned  only  by  poverty.'  In  particular,  we  are 
+told  by  his  great-nephew,  the  fourth  Baron,  he  was  '  a  man 
+'  of  courage,'  and  in  the  days  of  the  Ai'mada  we  find  him 
+taking  command,  as  Captain,  of  three  hundred  men  of  Ely. 
+Fourteen  years  before  (in  1574)  he  had  accompanied  his 
+brother  Roger,  the  second   Baron,  in  his  Embassy-Extra- 
+
+Frauce  ordinary  to   Henri  iii.  :    a  mission   of  interest  to  us,  as  it 
+
+cannot  but  have  encountered  him  with  Amyot,  and  may 
+have  determined  him  to  translate  the  Lives.  He  was  already 
+an  author.  In  December  1557  he  had  published,  with  a 
+dedication  to  Queen  Mary,  his  translation  of  Guevara's  Lihro 
+Aureo^  a  Spanish  adaptation  of  the  Meditations  of  Marcus 
+Aurelius;  and  in  1570  The  Morall  PhilosopMe  of  Doni  .  .  . 
+'  a  worke  first  compiled  in  the  Indian  tongue.'  ^  For  the  rest, 
+his  immortal  service  to  English  letters  brought  him  little 
+wealth,  but  much  consideration  from  his  neighbours,  his 
+kinsmen,  and  his  sovereign.     In  1568  he  was  presented  with 
+
+Rewards  the  freedom  of  the  city  of  Cambridge.     In  1576  his  brother 
+
+gave  him  the  'lease  of  a  house  and  household  stuff.'  He 
+was  knighted  about  1591 ;  he  received  the  Commission  of 
+the  Peace  in  Cambridgeshire  in  1592 ;  in  1601  he  got  a 
+pension  of  ,£40  from  the  Queen,  duly  acknowledged  in  his 
+dedication  of  the  lives  added  to  the  Plutarch  of  1603. 
+He  died,  it  is  likely,  before  this  edition  saw  the  light:  a 
+valiant  and  courteous  gentleman,  and  the  earliest  master  of 
+gi'eat  English  prose. 
+
+^  Subsequent  editions,  1568,  1582,  1619. 
+
+-  Second   edition,    1601.      Reprinted  as  T/ie  Fables  of  Bidpai,  with  an 
+Introduction  by  Joseph  Jacobs,  1888. 
+
+Ixxii 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+He  also  thought  the  Lives  a  book  'meete  to  be  set  forth  INTRO- 
+*  in  English.'  i  Truly  :  but  in  what  English  ?  He  writes  of  DUCTION 
+a  Muse  'called  Tacita,^  as  ye  would  saye,  ladye  Silence.' 
+Should  we  ?  Turning  to  a  modem  translation,  I  find  '  Tacita, 
+'  which  means  silent  or  dumb.'  The  glory  has  clearly 
+departed :  but  before  seeking  it  again  in  North's  unrivalled 
+language,  I  must  ask  of  him,  as  I  have  asked  of  Amyot,  Was  HisAccuracy 
+he  an  accurate  translator  ?  I  do  not  believe  there  are  a  score 
+of  passages  throughout  his  1175  folio  pages  ^  in  which  he 
+impairs  the  sense  of  his  original.  And  most  of  these  are 
+the  merest  slips,  arising  from  the  necessity  imposed  on  him 
+of  breaking  up  Amyot's  prolonged  periods,  and  his  subse- 
+quent failure  in  the  attribution  of  relatives  and  qualifica- 
+tions. They  are  not  of  the  slightest  consequence,  if  the 
+reader,  on  finding  an  obscui'ity,  will  rely  on  the  general  sense 
+of  the  passage  rather  than  on  the  mles  of  syntax  ;  and  of  such 
+obscm-ities  I  will  boldly  say  that  there  are  not  ten  in  the 
+whole  book.  Very  rarely  he  mistakes  a  word — as  '  real '  for 
+'  royal ' — and  very  rarely  a  phrase.  For  instance,  in  the 
+Pericles  he  writes  :  '  At  the  beginning  there  was  but  a  little  Blunders  and 
+'  secret  grudge  only  between  these  two  factions,  as  an  arti-  L-iberties 
+^  Jicial  Jiower  set  in  the  blade  of  a  sworde^  which  stands  for 
+'  comme  une  feuille  superficielle  en  une  lame  de  fer.'  In  the 
+Solon  he  writes :  *  his  familier  friendes  above  all  rebuked 
+'  him,  saying  he  was  to  be  accompted  no  better  than  a  beast,"" 
+for  '  qu  il  seroit  bien  beste.'  Some  of  his  blunders  lend 
+power  to  Amyot  and  Plutarch  both  :  as  in  that  fine  passage  of 
+the  Publicola,  wherein  the  conspirators'  '  great  and  horrible 
+'  othe,  drinking  the  blood  of  a  man  and  shaking  hands  in 
+'  his  bowels,'  stands  for  '  touchant  des  mains  aux  entrailles.' 
+There  is  one  such  error  of  unique  interest.  It  stands  in 
+Shakespeare  that 
+
+'  in  his  mantle  muffling  up  his  face. 
+Even  at  the  base  of  Pompey's  statua. 
+Which  all  the  while  ran  blood,  great  Caesar  fell ' ; 
+
+^  Dedication  to  Elizabeth.  ^  In  the  Numa. 
+
+'  The  first  edition  of  1559,  compared  by  me  with  Amyot's  second  edition 
+of  1565.      I  had  not  the  third,  of  1567,  from  which  North  translated  ;  but 
+on  several  points  I  have  referred  to  the  copy  in  the  British  Museum. 
+Ar  Ixxiii 
+
+
+INTRO- 
+DUCTION 
+
+
+His  Use  of 
+
+Earlier 
+
+Versions 
+
+
+His  Use  of 
+Amyot 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+and  we  read  in  North,  'against  the  base,  whereupon  Pom- 
+'  pey"'s  image  stoode,  which  ranne  all  of  a  goare  bloude'' ; 
+but  Amyot  simply  writes,  '  qui  en  fust  toute  ensanglantee. 
+The  blunder  has  enriched  the  world  :  that  is,  if  it  was  truly 
+a  blunder,  and  not  a  touch  of  genius.  For  North  will 
+sometimes,  though  very  rarely  of  set  purpose,  magnify  with 
+a  word,  or  transfigure  a  sentence.  *  Le  deluge,""  for  example, 
+is  always  '  Noe''s  flood ' ;  and  in  one  celebrated  passage  he 
+bowdierises  without  shame,  turning  Flora's  parting  caress 
+to  Pompey  into  a  '  sweete  quippe  or  pleasant  taunte.'  ^ 
+Such  are  the  discrepancies  which  can  by  any  stretch  be 
+called  blunders  ;  and  the  sum  of  them  is  insignificant  in  a 
+work  which  echoes  its  original  not  only  in  sense  but  also  in 
+rhythm  and  form.  North  had  the  Greek  text,  or  perhaps  a 
+Latin  translation,  before  him.  In  the  Sertoi-ius  he  speaks 
+of  '  Gaule  Narbonensis,'  with  nothing  but  '  Languedoc '  in 
+Amyot ;  in  the  Pompey  he  gives  the  Greek,  unquoted  by 
+Amyot,  for  '  let  the  dye  be  cast ' ;  in  dealing  with  Demos- 
+thenes' quinsy,  he  attempts  an  awkward  pun,  which  Amyot 
+had  disdained ;  and  in  the  Cicero  he  gives  in  Greek  char- 
+acter the  original  for  Latin  terms  of  philosophy,  whereas 
+Amyot  does  not.  These  are  the  only  indications  I  have 
+found  of  his  having  looked  beyond  the  French.  But  on 
+Amyot  he  set  a  grip  which  had  its  bearing  on  the  develop- 
+ment of  Tudor  prose.  It  may  even  be  that,  in  tracing  this 
+development,  we  have  looked  too  exclusively  to  Italian, 
+Spanish,  and  classical  sources.  Sidney  read  North's  book ; 
+Shakespeare  rifled  it ;  and  seven  editions  ^  were  published, 
+within  the  hundred  years  which  saw  the  new  birth  of  Eng- 
+lish prose  and  its  glorious  fulfilment.  In  acknowledging 
+our  debt,  have  we  not  unduly  neglected  the  Bishop  of 
+AuxeiTe  ?  Sentence  for  sentence  and  rhythm  for  rhythm,  in 
+all  the  great  passages  North's  style  is  essentially  Amyot's.^ 
+There  are  differences,  of  course,  which  catch  the  eye,  and 
+
+^  Greek  dSiyKTwy:  Lat.,  Ed.  Princeps  (1470),  'sine  morsu.'  Long  has 
+another  reading  and  translation,  but  most  will  agree  that  Amyot's  is  not  a 
+blunder  but  an  emendation. 
+
+""  1579  ;  1595  ;  1603  ;  1612  ;  1631  ;  1657  ;  1676. 
+
+^  Cf.  for  instance,  in  the  Antonius,  Cleopatra  on  the  Cydnus  ;  the  death  of 
+Antonius  ;  and  the  death  of  Cleopatra. 
+Ixxiv 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+have,  therefore,  as  I  think,  attracted  undue  attention,  the      INTRO- 
+more  naturally  since  they  are  all  in  North''s  favour.     His    DUCTION 
+vigorous  diction  puts  stuff  into  the  text :  he  stitches  it  with 
+sturdy  locutions,  he  tags  it  with  Elizabethan  braveries.    But 
+the  woof  and  the  design  are  still  Amyot's  ;  and  the  two  ver- 
+sions may  be  studied  most  conveniently  abreast. 
+
+In  neither  writer  is  the  verse  of  any  account.  Indeed,  Differences 
+when  North  comes  to  an  incident  of  the  Gymnopoedia — '  the  ^^^  Resem- 
+*  which  Sophocles  doth  easily  declare  by  these  verses  :  auces 
+
+'  The  song  which  you  shall  sing  shall  be  the  sonnet  sayde 
+
+'  By  Hermony  lusty  lasse,  that  strong  and  sturdy  mayde ; 
+
+'  Which  trust  her  peticote  about  her  middle  short 
+
+'  And  set  to  show  her  naked  hippes  in  frank  and  friendly  sort ' — 
+
+you  feel  that  the  reference  to  Sophocles  is  not  only  remote 
+but  also  grotesque.  It  is  very  different  with  their  prose. 
+And  first,  is  North''s  version — the  translation  of  a  transla- 
+tion— by  much  removed  from  Plutarch  ?  In  a  sense,  yes. 
+It  is  even  truer  of  North  than  of  Amyot,  that  he  offers 
+Plutarch  neither  to  philosophers  nor  to  grammarians,  but 
+to  all  who  would  understand  life  and  human  nature.^  But 
+for  these,  and  for  all  lovers  of  language,  Plutarch  loses  little 
+in  Amyot,  saving  in  the  matter  of  literary  allusion  ;  and 
+Amyot  loses  nothing  in  North,  save  for  the  presence  of  a 
+score  of  whims  and  obscurities.  On  the  other  hand,  we 
+recapture  in  North  an  English  equivalent  for  those  'gascon- 
+isms'  which  Montaigne  retained  in  French,  but  which  Amyot 
+rejected  from  it.  The  Plutarchian  hues  are  never  lost — they 
+are  but  doubly  refracted  ;  and  by  each  refraction  they  are 
+broadened  in  surface  and  deepened  in  tone.  The  sunlight 
+of  his  sense  is  sometimes  subdued  by  a  light  mist,  or  is 
+caught  in  the  fantastic  outline  of  a  little  cloud.  But  the 
+general  effect  is  touched  with  a  deeper  solemnity  and  a  more 
+splendid  iridescence ;  even  where  the  vapoui's  lie  thickest,  the 
+red  rays  throb  through. 
+
+But  the  proof  of  the  pudding  is  the  eating.     Let  us  take  North  and  his 
+a  passage  at  random,  and  compare  the  sixteenth  century  Successors 
+renderings  with  the  cold  perversions  of  a  later  age.     For 
+
+^  Gustave  Lanson,  La  littirature  fran^aise  (1894),  p.  223. 
+
+Ixxv 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+
+INTRO- 
+DUCTION 
+
+
+The  Lang- 
+hornes 
+
+
+Dryden 
+
+
+example,  Amyot  writes  ^  that  Pythagoras  '  apprivoisa  une 
+'  aigle,  qu'il  feit  descendre  et  venir  a  luy  par  certaines  voix, 
+'  ainsi  comme  elle  volait  en  Tair  dessus  sa  teste  "■ ;  in  North 
+this  eagle  is  '  so  tame  and  gentle,  that  she  would  stoupe,  and 
+'  come  down  to  him  by  certaine  voyees,  as  she  flewe  in  the 
+'  ayer  over  his  head ' ;  while  in  an  accurate  modern,  Pytha- 
+goras merely  '  tamed  an  eagle  and  made  it  alight  on  him.' 
+The  earlier  creature  flies  like  a  bird  of  Jove,  but  the  later 
+comes  down  like  a  brick.  The  Langhornes'  eagle  is  still 
+more  precipitate,  their  Pythagoras  still   more  peremptory. 
+
+*  That  philosopher ,"*  as  they  naturally  call  the  Greek,  '  had 
+'  so  far  tamed  an  eagle  that  by  pronoimcing  certain  words 
+'  he  could  stop  it  in  its  flight,  or  bring  it  down.'  Perhaps 
+I  may  finish  at  once  with  the  Langhomes  by  referring  to 
+their  description  of  Cleopatra  on  the  Cydnus.  They  open 
+that  pageant,  made  glorious  for  ever  by  Amyot,  North,  and 
+Shakespeare,  in  these  terms :  *  Though  she  had  received 
+'  many  pressing  letters  of  invitation  from  Antony  and  his 
+'  friends,  .  .  .  she  by  no  means  took  the  most  expeditious 
+
+*  mode  of  travelling.'  Thus  the  Langhornes ;  and  they 
+denounce  the  translation  called  Dryden's  ^  for  '  tame  and 
+'  tedious,  without  elegance,  spirit,  or  precision ' !  Now,  it 
+was  a  colossal  impertinence  to  put  out  the  Lives  among 
+the  Greeklings  of  Grub  Street,  in  order  to  '  complete  the 
+'  whole  in  a  year ' ;  but  it  must  be  noted  that,  after  North's, 
+this^  is  still  the  only  version  that  can  be  read  without 
+impatience.  Dryden's  hacks  were  not  artists,  but  neither 
+were  they  prigs :  the  vocabulary  was  not  yet  a  charnel  of 
+decayed  metaphor ;  and  if  they  missed  the  rapture  of  six- 
+teenth century  rhythm,  they  had  not  bleached  the  colour, 
+carded  the  texture,  and  ironed  the  surface  of  their  language 
+to  the  well-glazed  insignificance  of  the  later  eighteenth 
+century.  Their  Plutarch  is  no  longer  ^Tapped  in  the  royal 
+robes  of  Amyot  and  North  ;    but  he  is  spared  the  cheap 
+
+^  Niima  Pompilius. 
+
+-  Corrected  and  revised  by  A.  H.  Clough,  1883. 
+
+^  Dryden,  in  his  dedication  to  the  Duke  of  Ormonde  (1683),  spoke  of 
+North  as  ungrammatical  and  ungraceful.     The  version  he  signed  was  *  exe- 
+'  cuted  by  several  hands ' ;  but  with  his  name  on  the  title-page  it  displaced 
+North's,  which  is  now  for  the  first  time  since  republished. 
+Ixxvi 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+though  formal  tailoring  of  Dacier  and  the  Langhomes.     In      INTRO- 
+our  own  time  there  have  been  translations  by  scholars  :  they    DUCTION 
+are  useful  as  cribs,  but  they  do  not  pretend  to  charm.    Here, 
+for  instance,  is  North'^s  funeral  of  Philopoemen  :  '  The  soul- 
+
+*  diers  were  all  crowned  "with  garlandes  of  Laiu-ell  in  token 
+'  of  victory,  not  withstanding  the  teares  ranne  downe  their 
+
+*  cheekes  in  token  of  sorrowe,  and  they  led  their  enemies 
+'  prisoners  shackled  and  chained.  The  funeral  pot  in  which 
+'  were  Philipoemenes  ashes,  was  so  covered  with  garlands  of 
+'  flowers,  nosegaies,  and  laces  that  it  could  scant  be  scene  or 
+'  discerned/     And  here  is  the  crib :  '  There  one  might  see 
+
+'  men  crowned  with  garlands  but  weeping  at  the  same  time,  A  Latter-day 
+
+'  and  leading  along  his  enemies  in  chains.     The  vun  itself,  ^^^^ 
+
+'  which  was  scarcely  to  be  seen  for  the  garlands  and  ribbons 
+
+'  with  which  it  was  covered,'  etc.     Here,   too,  is  North's 
+
+Demetrius  :  '  He  took  pleasure  of  Lamia,  as  a  man  would 
+
+'  have  delight  to  heare  one  tell  tales,  when  he  hath  nothing 
+
+'  else  to  doe,  or  is  desirous  to  sleep  :  but  indeede  when  he 
+
+'  was  to  make  any  preparation  for  warre,  he  had  not  then 
+
+'  ivey  at  his  darfs  end,  nor  had  his  helmet  perfumed,  nor 
+
+'  came  not  out  of  ladies  closets,  pricked  and  princt  to  go  to 
+
+'  battell :  but  he  let  all  dauncing  and  sporting  alone,  and 
+
+'  became  as  the  poet  Euripides  saith, 
+
+'  The  souldier  of  Mars,  cruell  and  bloodie. ' 
+
+And  here  is  the  crib  :  '  He  only  dedicated  the  supei-fluity  of  his 
+'  leisure  to  enjoyment,  and  used  his  Lamia,  like  the  mythical 
+'  nightmare,  only  when  he  was  half  asleep  or  at  play.  When 
+'  he  was  preparing  for  war,  no  ivy  wreathed  his  spear,  no 
+'  perfume  scented  his  helmet,  nor  did  he  go  from  his  bed- 
+'  chamber  to  battle  covered  with  finery.'  '  Dedicated  the 
+'  superfluity  of  his  leisure ! '  At  such  a  jewel  the  Langhornes 
+must  have  turned  in  envy  in  their  graves  !  But,  apart  from 
+style,  modern  scholars  have  a  fetish  which  they  worship  to  A  Latter-day 
+the  ruin  of  any  literary  claim.  Amyot  and  North  have  been  Fetish 
+ridiculed  for  writing,  in  accordance  with  their  method,  of 
+nuns  and  churches,  and  not  of  vestals  and  temples.  Yet  the 
+opposite  extreme  is  far  more  fatiguing.     AVhere  is  the  sense 
+
+Ixxvii 
+
+
+INTRO- 
+DUCTION 
+
+
+The  German 
+Unchained 
+
+
+French  and 
+English :  the 
+Question  of 
+Form 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+of  putting  '  chalkaspides '  in  the  text  and  '  soldiers  who  had 
+'  shields  of  brass ""  in  the  notes  ?  Is  it  not  really  less  dis- 
+tracting to  read,  as  in  North,  of  soldiers  '  marching  with 
+'  their  copper  targets '  ?  So,  too,  with  the  Parthian  kettle- 
+drums. It  is  an  injury  to  write  '  hollow  instruments'  in  so 
+splendid  a  passage  ;  and  an  insult  to  add  in  a  note  '  the  con- 
+'  text  seems  to  show  that  a  drum  is  meant.'  Of  course  ! 
+And  '  kettle-drums '  is  a  perfect  equivalent  for  poirrpa,  '  made 
+'  of  skin,  and  hollow,  which  they  stretch  round  brass  sounders.' 
+But  if  these  things  are  done  in  England,  you  may  know  what 
+to  expect  of  Germany.  In  the  picture  of  Cato's  suicide  there 
+is  one  supreme  touch,  rendered  by  Plutarch  i]Br}  S'opvcOe^i 
+■^Sov ;  by  Amyot  les  petits  oyseauw  commengoient  desja  a 
+chanter  ;  by  North,  tlie  little  birds  began  to  chirpe.  But  Kalt- 
+wasser  turns  the  little  birds  into  crowing  cocks  ;  and  main- 
+tains his  position  by  a  learned  argument.  It  was  still,  says 
+he,  in  the  night,  and  other  fowls  are  silent  until  dawn.^  If 
+the  style  of  the  eighteenth  century  be  tedious,  the  scholar- 
+ship of  the  nineteenth  is  intolerable.  The  truth  is  that  in 
+the  sixteenth  alone  could  the  Lives  be  fitly  translated.  For 
+there  were  passages,  as  of  the  arming  of  Greece,  in  the 
+Philopaemen,  which  could  only  be  rendered  in  an  age  still 
+accustomed  to  armour.  Any  modern  rendering,  be  it  by 
+writer  or  by  don,  must  needs  be  archaistically  mediaeval  or 
+pedantically  antique. 
+
+Turning,  then,  to  Amyot  and  North,  the  strangest  thing 
+to  note,  and  the  most  important,  is  that  the  English,  although 
+without  a  touch  of  foreign  idiom,  is  modelled  closely  upon  the 
+French.  Some  explanation  of  this  similarity  in  form  may  be 
+found  in  the  nature  of  the  matter.  The  narration,  as  op- 
+posed to  the  analysis,  of  action  ;  the  propounding,  as  opposed 
+to  the  proof,  of  philosophy — these  are  readily  conveyed  from 
+one  language  into  another,  and  Joshua  and  Ecclesiastes  are 
+good  reading  in  most  versions  of  the  Bible.  But  North  is 
+closer  to  Amyot  than  any  two  versions  of  the  Bible  are  to 
+each  other.  The  French  runs  into  the  English  five  times  out 
+of  six,  and  in  all  the  great  passages,  not  only  word  for  word 
+but  almost  cadence  for  cadence.     There  is  a  trick  of  redun- 
+
+
+Ixxviii 
+
+
+^  See  Plutarch's  Lives  :  Stewart  and  Long,  in.  572. 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+dancy  in  Tudor  prose  that  makes  for  emphasis  and  melody.      INTRO- 
+We  account  it  English,  and  find  it  abounding  in  our  Bible.    DUCTION 
+It  is  wholly  alien  from  modem  French  prose — wholly  alien, 
+too,  from  French  prose  of  the  seventeenth  century.     Indeed, 
+I  would  go  further,  and  say  that  it  is  largely  characteristic  of 
+Amyot  the  wTiter,  and  not  of  the  age  in  which  he  wrote.  Amyot's 
+You  do  not  find  it,  for  instance,  in  the  prose  of  Joachim  du  Manner 
+Bellay.^     But  now  take  North's  account  of  the  execution  ^^^  North  s 
+before  Brutus  of  his  two  eldest  sons  ;  ^     '  which,'  you  read, 
+'  was  such  a  pitieful  sight  to  all  people,  that  they  could  not 
+'  find  it  in  their  hearts  to  beholde  it,  but  turned  themselves 
+'  another  waye,  bicause  they  would  not  see  it.'     That  effec- 
+tive repetition   is  word   for  word   in   the  French  :    '  qu'ilz 
+'  n'avoient  pas  le  cueur  de  les  regarder,  ains  se  tournoient 
+'  d'un  austre  coste  pom'  n'en  rien  veo'ir.''     But,  apart  from  re- 
+dundancy, the  closeness  is  at  all  times  remarkable.     Consider  Points  of 
+the  phrase :  '  but  to  go  on  quietly  and  joyfully  at  the  sound  Contrast 
+
+*  of  these  pipes  to  hazard  themselves  even  to  death.'  ^  You 
+would  swear  it  original,  but  here  is  the  French  :  '  ains  aller 
+'  posement  et  joyeusement  au  son  des  instruments,  se  hazarder 
+'  au  peril  de  la  mort.'  The  same  effect  is  produced  by  the 
+same  rhythm.  Or,  take  the  burial  of  unchaste  vestals  :  * 
+when  the  muffled  litter  passes,  the  people  '  follow  it  moum- 
+'  ingly  with  heavy  looks  and  speake  never  a  word ' ;  '  avec  une 
+'  chere  basse,  et  morne  sans  mot  dire ';  and  so  on,  in  identical 
+rhythm,  to  the  end  of  that  magnificent  passage.  I  will  give 
+one  longer  example,  from  the  return  of  Alcibiades.  You  read 
+in  North  :  '  Those  that  could  come  near  him  dyd  welcome 
+'  and  imbrace  him  :  but  all  the  people  wholly  followed  him  : 
+
+*  And  some  that  came  to  him  put  garlands  of  flowers  upon  his 
+'  head  :  and  those  that  could  not  come  neare  him,  sawe  him 
+'  afarre  off",  and  the  olde  folkes  dyd  poynte  him  out  to  the 
+'  younger  sorte.'  And  in  Amyot :  '  Ceulx  qui  en  pouvoient 
+'  approcher  le  saluoient  et  I'embrassoient,  mais  tous  1'  accom- 
+
+*  pagnoient ;  et  y  en  avoient  aucuns  qui  s'approchans  de  luy, 
+'  luy  mettoient  des  chappeaux  de  fleurs  siu"  la  teste  et  ceulx 
+'  qui  n'en  pouvoient  approcher,  le  regardoient  de  loing,  et  les 
+
+^  Deffense  et  illustration  de  la  Langue  franfoise. 
+
+^  Publicola.  ^  Lycurgus.  *  Numa. 
+
+Ixxix 
+
+
+INTRO- 
+DUCTION 
+
+
+Amyot's 
+Influence  on 
+Elizabethan 
+English 
+
+
+Antithesis 
+
+
+Majesty  and 
+Music 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+'  vieux  le  monstroient  aux  jeunes.'  Here  is  the  very  manner 
+of  the  Authorised  Version  :  flowing  but  not  prolix,  full  but 
+not  turgid.  Is  it,  then,  fanciful  to  suggest  that  Amyot's 
+style,  evolved  from  the  inherent  difficulty  of  his  task,  was 
+accepted  by  North  for  its  beauty,  and  used  by  the  translators 
+of  the  Bible  for  its  fitness  to  an  undertaking  hard  for  similar 
+reasons  and  in  a  similar  way  ?  Amyot  piles  up  his  epithets, 
+and  links  one  varied  cadence  to  another :  yet  his  volume  is 
+not  of  extravagant  utterance,  but  of  extreme  research.  He 
+was  endeavouring  to  render  late  Greek  into  French  of  the 
+Renaissance  ;  and  so  he  sought  for  perfect  expression  not 
+— as  to-day — in  one  word  but  in  the  resultant  of  many. 
+And  this  very  volume  of  utterance,  however  legitimate,  im- 
+posed the  necessity  of  rhythm.  His  innumerable  words, 
+if  they  were  not  to  weary,  must  be  strung  on  a  wire  of 
+undulating  gold.  North  copied  this  cadence,  and  gave  a 
+storehouse  of  expression  to  the  writers  of  his  time.  It 
+seems  to  me,  therefore,  not  rash  to  trace,  through  North,  to 
+Amyot  one  rivulet  of  the  many  that  fell  into  the  mighty 
+stream  of  rhythm  flowing  through  the  classic  version  of  the 
+English  Bible. 
+
+But  North  and  Amyot  are  not  men  of  one  trick :  they 
+can  be  terse  and  antithetical  when  they  will.  You  read 
+that  Themistocles  advanced  the  honour  of  the  Athenians, 
+making  them  '  to  overcome  their  enemies  by  force,  and  their 
+'  friends  and  allies  with  liberality ' ;  in  Amyot :  '  Vaincre 
+'  leurs  ennemies  en  prouesse,  et  leiurs  alhez  et  amis  en 
+'  bonte ' !  North  can  play  this  tune  as  well  as  any  :  e.g.^ 
+'  If  they,'  Plutarch's  heroes,  '  have  done  this  for  heathen 
+'  Kings,  what  should  we  doe  for  Christian  Princes  "i  If  they 
+'  have  done  this  for  glorye,  what  shoulde  we  doe  for  religion  "i 
+'  If  thev  have  done  this  without  hope  of  heaven,  what  should 
+'  we  doe  that  looke  for  immortalitie  ? '  ^  But  he  can  play 
+other  tunes  too.  Much  is  now  \vi'itten  of  the  development 
+of  the  sentence ;  and  no  doubt  since  the  decadence  advances 
+have  been  made.  Yet,  in  the  main,  they  are  to  recover  a 
+territory  wilfully  abandoned.  In  North  and  Amyot  there 
+are  sentences  of  infinite  device — sentences  numerous  and  har- 
+
+
+Ixxx 
+
+
+^  Dedication  to  Elizabeth. 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+monic  beyond  the  dreams  of  Addison  and  Swift.  I  will  INTRO- 
+give  some  examples.  Amyot:  '  S'eblouissant  a  regarder  une  DUCTION 
+'  telle  splendeur,  et  se  perdant  a  sonder  un  tel  abysme.'' 
+That  is  fine  enough,  but  North  beats  it :  '  Dazeled  at  the 
+'  beholding  of  such  brightnesse,  and  confounded  at  the  gaging 
+'  of  so  bottomlesse  a  deepe.''  ^  Amyot :  '  Ne  plus  ne  moins 
+'  que  si  c'eust  este  quelque  doulce  haleine  d\ui  vent  salubre 
+'  et  gracieu  qui  leur  eust  souffle  du  coste  de  Rome  pour 
+'  les  rafreshir.'  And  North :  '  As  if  some  gentle  ayer  had  North's 
+'  breathed  on  them  by  some  gracious  and  healthful!  wind,  Superiority 
+*  blowen  from  Rome  to  refresh  them.'^  No  translation  could  ^^^ 
+be  closer ;  yet  in  the  first  example  North's  English  is  stronger 
+than  the  French,  and  in  the  second  it  flows,  like  the  air, 
+with  a  more  ineffable  ease.  Take,  again,  the  account  of 
+the  miracle  witnessed  during  the  battle  of  Salamis.  Here 
+is  Amyot :  '  que  Von  ouit  une  haulte  voix  et  grande  clameur 
+'  par  toute  la  plaine  Thrasiene  jusques  a  la  mer,  comme  s'il  y 
+'  eust  eu  grand  nomhre  dliommes  qui  ensemble  eussent  a  haulte 
+'  voix  chante  le  sacre  cantique  de  lacchus,  et  semhloit  que  de 
+'  la  multitude  de  ceidx  qui  chantoient  il  se  levast  petit  a  petit 
+'  tme  nuee  en  Fair,  laquelle  partant  de  la  terre  venoit  a 
+''Jondre  et  tumher  sur  les  galeres  en  la  mer.''  And  here  is 
+North :  '  that  a  lowde  voyce  was  heard  through  all  the 
+'  plaine  of  Thriasia  unto  the  sea,  as  if  there  had  bene  a 
+'  number  of  men  together,  that  had  songe  out  alowde,  the 
+'  holy  songe  of  lacchus.  And  it  seemed  by  litle  and  litle 
+'  that  there  rose  a  clowde  in  the  ayer  from  those  which 
+'  sange :  that  left  the  land,  and  came  and  lighted  on  the 
+'  gallyes  in  the  sea.**  I  have  put  into  italics  so  much  of 
+Amyot  as  North  renders  word  for  word.  His  fidelity  is 
+beyond  praise ;  but  the  combination  of  such  fidelity  Avith 
+perfect  and  musical  expression  is  no  less  than  a  miracle 
+of  artistry.  North,  in  this  passage  as  elsewhere,  not  only 
+writes  more  beautiful  English :  he  gives,  also,  a  descrip- 
+tion of  greater  completeness  and  clarity  than  you  will  find 
+in  any  later  version  of  Plutarch.  The  elemental  drama 
+transfigures  his  prose ;  but  every  fact  is  realised,  every 
+sensuous  impression  is  set  down,  and  set  down  in  its  order. 
+^  Amyot :  Atix  Lecteurs.  -  Nittna. 
+
+I  Ixxxi 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+INTRO-  So  much  may  be  said,  too,  of  Amyot;  but  in  his  rendering 
+DUCTION  you  are  aware  of  the  words  and  the  construction — in  fact, 
+of  the  author.  In  North's  there  is  but  the  pageant  of  the 
+sky ;  there  is  never  a  restless  sound  to  disturb  the  illusion ; 
+the  cadence  is  sublimated  of  all  save  a  delicate  alliteration, 
+tracing  its  airy  rhythm  to  the  ear.  The  work  is  full  of  such 
+effects,  some  of  simple  melody,  and  others  of  more  than 
+contrapuntal  involution ;  for  he  commands  his  English  as  a 
+
+His  Mastery    skilled  organist  his  organ,  knowing  the  multitude  of  its  re- 
+
+of  English  sources,  and  drawing  at  need  upon  them  all.  Listen  to  his 
+rendering  of  Pericles'  sorrow  for  his  son  :  '  Neither  saw  they 
+'  him  weepe  at  any  time  nor  mourne  at  the  funeralles  of  any 
+'  of  his  kinsmen  or  friendes,  but  at  the  death  of  Paralus,  his 
+'  younger  and  lawful  begotten  sonne :  for,  the  losse  of  him 
+'  alone  dyd  only  melt  his  harte.  Yet  he  dyd  strive  to 
+'  showe  his  naturall  constancie,  and  to  keepe  his  accustomed 
+'  modestie.  But  as  he  woulde  have  put  a  garland  of  flowers 
+'  upon  his  head,  sorrowe  dyd  so  pierce  his  harte  when  he 
+'  sawe  his  face,  that  then  he  burst  out  in  teares  and  cryed 
+'  amaine ;  which  they  never  saw  him  doe  before  all  the 
+'  dayes  of  his  life.''  Yes,  the  pathos  of  the  earth  is  within 
+his  compass ;  but  he  can  also  attain  to  the  sublimity  of 
+heaven :  '  The  everlasting  seate,  which  trembleth  not,  and 
+'  is  not  driven  nor  moved  with  windes,  neither  is  darkened 
+'  with  clowdes,  but  is  allwayes  bright  and  cleare,  and  at  all 
+'  times  shyning  with  a  pure  bright  light,  as  being  the  only 
+'  habitation  and  mansion  place  of  the  eternall  God,  only 
+'  happy  and  immortall."  ^ 
+
+These  two  passages  from  the  last  movement  of  the  Pericles 
+can  only  be  spoken  of  in  North's  own  language :  they  are 
+'  as  stoppes  and  soundes  of  the  soul  played  upon  with  the 
+'  fine  fingered  hand  of  a  conning  master.' ^     Yet  they  are 
+
+His  Debt  to     modelled   on    Amyot's   French.     It   seems   scarce   credible ; 
+
+Amyot  and  indeed,  if  the  mould  be  the  same,  the  metal  has  been 
+
+transmuted.  You  feel  that  much  has  been  added  to  the 
+form  so  faithfully  followed ;  that  you  are  listening  to  an 
+English   master    of   essentially   English    prose.     For   these 
+
+1  Amyot  :   '  Comme   estant   telle   habitation   et   convenable  a  la  nature 
+'  souverainement  heureuse  et  immortelle.'  "  Pericles. 
+
+Ixxxii 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+passages  are  in  tlie  tradition  of  our  tongue:  the  first  gives      INTRO- 
+an  echo  of  Malory's  stately  pathos,  and  the  second  an  earnest    DUCTION 
+of  our  Apocalypse.     In  building  up  these  palaces  of  music 
+North  has  followed  the  lines  of  Amyofs  construction ;  but 
+his  melody  in  the  first  is  sweeter,  his  harmony  in  the  second 
+peals  out  with  a  loftier  rapture. 
+
+I  have  dwelt  upon  the  close  relation  of  North's  style  to 
+Amyot's,  because  it  is  the  rule,  and  because  it  has  a  bearing 
+on  the  development  of  Tudor  prose.     This  rule  of  likeness 
+seems  to  me  worthier  of  note  than  any  exceptions ;  both  for 
+the  strangeness  and  the  importance.     But,  of  course,  there 
+are  exceptions :  there  are  traits,  of  attitude  and  of  expres-  Exceptions  to 
+sion,  personal  to  North  the  man  and  the  writer.     He  has  a  North's  Rule 
+national  leaning  towards  the  sturdy  and   the  bluff".     In  a 
+sonnet  written  some  twenty  years  earlier,  Du  Bellay,  giving 
+every  nation  a  particular  epithet,  labels  our  forefathers  for 
+'  les  Anglais  mutins.""     The  epithet  is  chosen  by  an  enemy ; 
+but  there  was  ever  in  the  English  temper,  above  all,  in  the 
+roaring  days  of  great  Elizabeth,  a  certain  jovial   froward- 
+ness,   by   far   removed    both    from   impertinence   and   from 
+bluster,  which  inclined   us,  as  we  should   put  it,  to  stand 
+no  nonsense  from  anybody.     This  national  characteristic  is  His  Sturdi- 
+strongly   marked    in    North.     For   him    Spartacus   and    his  ness 
+slaves  are  'rebellious  rascals.'     When  Themistocles  boasts 
+of  being  able  to  make  a  small  city  great,  though  he  can- 
+not, indeed,  tune  a  viol  or  play  of  the  psalterion,  Amyot 
+calls  his  words  'un  peu  haultaines  et  odieuses':  they  are  re- 
+pugnant to  the  cultured  prelate,  and  he  gives  a  full  equi- 
+valent for  the  censure  of  Plutarch,  the  cultured  Greek.^     But 
+North  will  not  away  with  this  censure  of  a  bluff'  retort : 
+having  his  bias,  he  deliberately  betrays  his  original,  making 
+Themistocles  answer  '  with  great  and  stout  words.'     There  His  Sense  of 
+is  also  in  North's  character  a  strain  of  kindness,  almost  of  Pathos 
+softness,  towards  women  and  children  and  the  pathetic  side 
+of  life.     In  the  wonderful  passage  describing  the  living  burial 
+of  unchaste  vestals,^  where  almost  every  other  word  is  liter- 
+
+^  The  Greek  epithet  is  rendered  by  the  word  arrogant  in  Clough's  revised 
+Dryden,  and  by  the  word  vulgar  in  Mr.  Stewart's  translation. 
+*  Nutna. 
+
+Ixxxiii 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+INTRO-  ally  translated,  North  turns  'la  criminelle"'  into  'the  seely 
+DUCTION  '  offendour ' :  as  it  were  with  a  gracious  reminiscence  of 
+Chaucer's  '  ne  me  ne  list  this  seely  woman  chide.'  And  in 
+the  Solon^  where  a  quaint  injunction  is  given  for  preserving 
+love  in  wedlock,  Amyot  writes  that  so  courteous  a  custom, 
+being  observed  by  a  husband  towards  his  wife,  '  garde  que 
+'  les  courages  et  vouluntez  ne  s'alienent  de  tout  poinct  les 
+'  uns  des  autres.'  (The  phrase  is  rendered  in  a  modern 
+version  'preventing  their  leading  to  actual  quarrel.')  But 
+North  lifts  the  matter  above  the  level  of  laughter  or 
+puritanical  reproach :  it  '  keepeth,'  as  he  writes,  '  love  and 
+'  good  will  waking,  that  it  die  not  utterly  between  them.' 
+The  beauty  and  gentleness  of  these  words,  in  so  strange  a 
+context,  are,  you  feel,  inspired  by  chivalry  and  a  deep  rever- 
+ence for  women.  These  two  strains  in  North's  character 
+find  vent  in  his  expression ;  but  they  never  lead  him  far 
+from  the  French.  There  is  an  insistence,  but  no  more, 
+on  all  things  gentle  and  brave  ;  and  this  insistence  goes 
+but  to  further  a  tendency  already  in  Amyot.  For  in 
+that  age  the  language  of  gentlemen  received  a  like  impress 
+in  both  countries  from  their  common  standards  of  courage 
+Amyot, Northland  courtesy;  and  among  gentlemen,  Amyot  and  North 
+and  Plutarch  seem  to  have  been  drawn  yet  closer  to  each  other  by  a 
+common  kinship  with  the  brave  and  gentle  soul  of  Plutarch. 
+These  two  qualities  which  are  notable  in  Plutarch  and 
+Amyot  in  all  such  passages,  lead  in  North  to  a  distinct 
+exaggeration  of  phrase,  though  ever  in  the  direction  of 
+their  true  intent.  He  makes  grim  things  grimmer,  and 
+sweet  things  more  sweet.  So  that  the  double  translation 
+from  the  Greek  gives  the  effect  of  a  series  of  contours 
+traced  the  one  above  the  other,  and  ever  increasing  the 
+curve  of  the  lowest  outline. 
+His  Vigour  But  North,  being  no  sentimentalist,  finds  occasion  for  fifty 
+
+of  Phrase  stout  words  against  one  soft  saying.  The  stark  vigour  of 
+his  diction  is,  indeed,  its  most  particular  sig-n.  The  profit 
+to  the  Greeks  of  a  preliminary  fight  before  Salamis  is  thus 
+declared  by  Amyot :  it  proved  '  que  la  grande  multitude  des 
+'  vaisseaux,  ny  la  pompe  et  magnificence  des  parements 
+'  d'iceulx,  ny  les  cris  superbes  et  chants  de  victoire  des  Bar- 
+Ixxxiv 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+'  bares,  ne  servent  de  rien  a  Tencontre  de  ceulx  qui  ont  le  INTRO- 
+'  cueur  de  joindre  de  pres,  et  combattre  a  coups  de  main  leur  DUCTION 
+'  ennemy,  et  qiiil  ne  fault  pointjaire  compte  de  tout  cela,  ains 
+'  aller  droit  affronter  les  hommes  et  s'attacher  hardiment  a 
+'  eulx.''  North  follows  closely  for  a  time,  but  in  the  last 
+sentence  he  lets  out  his  language  to  the  needs  of  a  maxim  so 
+pertinent  to  a  countryman  of  Drake.  The  Greeks  saw,  says  and  Lusti- 
+he,  '  that  it  was  not  the  gTeat  multitude  of  shippes,  nor  the  "ess  of 
+'  pomp  and  sumptuous  setting  out  of  the  same,  nor  the  Sentiment 
+'  prowde  barbarous  showts  and  songes  of  victory  that  could 
+'  stand  them  to  purpose,  against  noble  hartes  and  valliant 
+'  minded  souldiers,  that  durst  grapple  with  them,  and  come 
+'  to  hand  strokes  with  their  enemies :  and  that  they  should 
+'  viake  no  reckoning  of  all  that  bravery  and  hragges,  but 
+'  should  sticke  to  it  like  men,  and  laye  it  on  the  jacks  of  them.'' 
+The  knight  who  was  to  captain  his  three  hundred  men  in 
+the  Armada  year,  has  the  pull  here  over  the  bishop ;  and  on 
+occasion  he  has  always  such  language  at  command.  'Les 
+'  autres  qui  estoient  demourez  a  Rome ''  instead  of  marching 
+to  the  war  ^  are  '  the  home-taiTiers  and  house-doves ' :  up- 
+braided elsewhere  ^  because  they  '  never  went  from  the  smoke 
+'  of  the  chimney  nor  can'ied  away  any  blowes  in  the  field."* 
+When  Philopoemen,  wounded  with  a  dart  that  '  pierced  both 
+'  thighes  thi'ough  and  through,  that  the  iron  was  scene  on 
+'  either  side,"  saw  '  the  fight  terrible,"  and  that  it  '  woulde 
+'  soon  be  ended,"'  you  read  in  Amyot  '  qu'il  perdoit  patience 
+'  de  despit,"'  but  in  North  that  '  it  spited  him  to  the  guttes, 
+'  he  would  so  faine  have  bene  among  them.""  The  phrase  is 
+born  of  sympathy  and  conviction.  North,  too,  has  a  fine 
+impatience  of  fools.  Hannibal,  discovering  the  error  of  his 
+guides,  '  les  feit  pendre  "■  in  Amyot ;  in  North  he  '  roundely 
+'  trussed  them  up  and  honge  them  by  the  neckes."'  ^  And 
+he  is  not  sparing  in  his  censure  of  ill-livers.  Phcea,  you  read 
+in  the  Theseus, '  was  surnamed  a  sowe  for  her  beastly  brutishe 
+'  behavioui",  and  wicked  life.''  He  can  be  choleric  as  well  as 
+kindly,  and  never  minces  his  words. 
+
+Apart   from    those   expressions   which    spring    fi'om    the 
+idiosyncrasy  of  his  temperament,  North's  style  shares  to  the 
+^  Cotiolanus.  -  Fabius  Maximus.  ^  Ibid. 
+
+Ixxxv 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+
+INTRO- 
+DUCTION 
+
+
+His  Vocabu- 
+lary 
+
+
+Proverbs  and 
+Images 
+
+
+full  in  the  general  glory  of  Elizabethan  prose.  You  read  of 
+'fretised  seelings,"*^  of  words  that  'dulce  and  soften  the 
+'  hardened  harts  of  the  multitude ' ;  ^  of  the  Athenians 
+'  being  set  on  a  jolitie  to  see  themselves  strong.'  Heads 
+are  'passhed  in  peces,'  and  men  'ashamed  to  cast  their 
+'  honour  at  their  heeles'  (Amyot:  'd'abandonner  leur  gloire '). 
+Themistocles"'  father  shows  him  the  '  shipwracks  and  ribbes 
+'  (Amyot :  '  les  corps  "*)  of  olde  gallyes  cast  here  and  there.' 
+You  have,  '  pluck  out  of  his  head  the  worm  of  ambition '  ^ 
+for  '  oster  de  sa  fantasie  Tambition "" ;  and  Caesar  on  the 
+night  before  his  death  hears  Calpurnia,  '  being  fast  asleep, 
+*  weepe  and  sigh,  and  put  forth  many  fumhling  lamentable 
+'  speeches.''  But  in  particular,  North  is  richer  than  even  his 
+immediate  followers  in  homespun  images  and  proverbial 
+locutions.  Men  who  succeed,  '  bear  the  bell ' ;  *  '  tenter  la 
+'  fortune  le  premier "*  is  'to  breake  the  ise  of  this  enter- 
+'  prise.'  ^  Coriolanus  by  his  pride  '  stirred  coales  emong  the 
+'  people.'  The  Spartans  who  thwailed  Themistocles  '  dyd 
+'  sit  on  his  skirtes ' ;  and  the  Athenians  fear  Pericles  because 
+in  voice  and  manner  '  he  was  Pisistratus  up  and  downe.'  The 
+Veians  let  fall  their  '  peacockes  bravery ' ;  ^  and  a  man  when 
+pleased  is  'as  merry  as  a  pye.'*^  Raw  recruits  are  'fresh- 
+'  water  souldiers.'  A  turncoat  carries  '  two  faces  in  one 
+'  hoode ' ;  ^  and  the  Carthaginians,  being  outwitted,  are 
+'  ready  to  eate  their  fingers  for  spyte.'  The  last  locution 
+occurs  also  in  North's  Morall  PhilosopMe  of  1570 :  he 
+habitually  used  such  expressions,  and  yet  others  which  are 
+truly  proverbs,  common  to  many  languages.  For  instance, 
+he  wi'ites  in  the  Camillus,  '  these  words  made  Brennus  mad  as 
+'  a  March  Hare  that  out  went  his  blade ' ;  in  Cato  Utican 
+'  to  set  all  at  six  and  seven ' ;  in  Solon  '  so  sweete  it  is 
+'  to  rule  the  roste ' ;  in  Pelopidas  '  to  hold  their  noses  to 
+'  the  gryndstone  ' ;  in  Cicero,  with  even  greater  incongruity, 
+of  his  wife  Terentia  '  wearing  her  husbandes  breeches.' 
+In  the  Alcibiades,  the  Athenians  '  upon  his  persuasion, 
+'  built  castles  in  the  ayer ' ;  and  this  last  has  been  referred  to 
+
+
+^  Lycurgus.  -  Publicola. 
+
+*  The  old  prize  for  a  racehorse. 
+«  Camillus.  7  jhid, 
+
+Ixxxvi 
+
+
+'  Solon. 
+^  Piiblicola. 
+*  Tinioleon. 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+Sidney's   Apologue ;    but    the    first   known    edition    of  the      INTRO- 
+
+Apologie  is  dated  1595,  and  it  is  supposed  to  have  been    DUCTION 
+
+written  about  1581 ;    North  has  it  not  only  in  the  Lives 
+
+(1579),  but  in  his  Morall  Philosophie  of  1570.1     To  North, 
+
+too,  we  may  perhaps  attribute  some  of  the  popularity  in 
+
+England  of  engaging  jingles,     '  Pritle  pratle '  and  '  topsie  His  Jingles 
+
+'  turvie '  occur  both  in  the  Lives  and  the  Morall  Philosophie. 
+
+And  in  the  Lives  you  have  also  '  spicke  and  spanne  newe "" ;  ^ 
+
+with  '  hurly  burly ""  and  '  pel  mel,'  adopted  by  Shakespeare  in 
+
+Macbeth  and  Richard  III.     Since  North  takes  the  last  from 
+
+Amyot  and  explains  it — '  fled  into  the  camp  pel  mel  or  hand 
+
+'  over  heade' — and  since  it  is  of  French  derivation — pelle- 
+
+mesle  = '  to  mix  with  a  shovel ' — it  is  possible  that  the  phrase 
+
+is  here  used  for  the  first  time. 
+
+Gathered  together,  these  peculiarities  of  style  seem  His  Style 
+many ;  and  yet  in  truth  they  are  few.  They  are  the  merest  and  its 
+accidents  in  a  great  stream  of  rhythm.  That  stream  flows  Accidents 
+steadily  and  superbly  through  a  channel  of  another  man's 
+digging.  For  North's  style  is  Amyofs,  divided  into  shorter 
+periods,  strengthened  with  racy  locutions,  and  decked  with 
+Elizabethan  tags.  In  English  such  division  was  necessary : 
+the  rhythm,  else,  of  the  weightier  language  had  gained  such 
+momentum  as  to  escape  control.  But  even  so  North's 
+English  is  neither  cramped  nor  pruned  :  it  is  still  unfettered 
+by  antithesis  and  prodigal  of  display.  His  periods,  though 
+shorter  than  Amyot's,  in  themselves  are  leisurely  and  long. 
+There  is  room  in  them  for  fine  words  and  lofty  phrases ;  and 
+these  go  bragging  by,  the  one  following  a  space  after  the 
+other,  like  cars  in  an  endless  pageant.  The  movement  of 
+his  procession  rolls  on  :  yet  he  halts  it  at  pleasure,  to  soften 
+sorrow  with  a  gracious  saying,  or  to  set  a  flourish  on  the 
+bravery  of  his  theme. 
+
+IV 
+
+The  earliest  tribute  to  the  language  of  Amyot  and  North 
+was  the  highest  that  has  ever,  or  can  ever,  be  paid ;  both  for 
+
+^  Fables  of  Bidpai,  1888,  p.  II. 
+
+-  Paidiis  ^milius  ;  in  a  gorgeous  description  of  the  Macedonian  phalanx  ; 
+from  spick  =  a  spike,  and  span  =  a  splinter. 
+
+Ixxxvii 
+
+
+INTRO- 
+DUCTION 
+
+
+North's 
+
+Debtor-in- 
+
+Chief 
+
+
+The  Roman 
+Plays 
+
+
+Coriolanus 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+its  own  character  and  the  authority  of  those  who  gave  it. 
+For  Montaigne,  the  greatest  literary  genius  in  France 
+during  the  sixteenth  century,  wrote  thus  of  Aymot :  '  Nous 
+'  estions  perdus,  si  ce  livre  ne  nous  eust  tires  du  bourbier : 
+'  sa  mercy,  nous  osons  a  cette  heure  parler  et  escrire  "* ;  ^ 
+and  Shakespeare,  the  first  poet  of  all  time,  borrowed  three 
+plays  almost  wholly  from  North.  I  do  not  speak  of  A 
+Midsummer  Niglifs  Dream  and  The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen^ 
+for  each  of  which  a  little  has  been  gleaned  from  North''s 
+Theseus  \  nor  of  the  Timon  of  Alliens^  although  here  the 
+debt  is  larger.^  The  wit  of  Apemantus,  the  Apologue  of 
+the  Fig-tree,  and  the  two  variants  of  Timon's  epitaph,  are 
+all  in  North.  Indeed,  it  was  the  '  rich  conceit ''  of  Timon's 
+tomb  by  the  sea-shore  which  touched  Shakespeare's  imagi- 
+nation, as  it  had  touched  Antony's ;  so  that  some  of  the 
+restricted  passion  of  North's  Antonms^  which  bursts  into 
+showers  of  meteoric  splendour  in  the  Fourth  and  Fifth  Acts 
+of  Shakespeare's  Antony  and  Cleopatra^  beats  too,  in  the 
+last  lines  of  his  Timon,  with  a  rhythm  as  of  billows  : 
+
+'  yet  rich  conceit 
+Taught  thee  to  make  vast  Neptune  weep  for  aye 
+On  thy  low  grave,  on  faults  forgiven, ' 
+
+But  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  as  in  Coriolanus  and  in  Julius 
+Ccesar,  Shakespeare's  obligation  is  apparent  in  almost  all  he 
+has  written.  To  measure  it  you  must  quote  the  bulk  of  the 
+three  plays.  '  Of  the  incident,'  Trench  has  said,  '  there  is 
+'  almost  nothing  which  he  does  not  owe  to  Plutarch,  even 
+'  as  continually  he  owes  the  very  wording  to  Sir  Thomas 
+'  North' ;^  and  he  follows  up  this  judgment  with  so  detailed 
+an  analysis  of  the  Julius  Casar  that  I  shall  not  attempt  to 
+labour  the  same  ground.  As  regards  the  Coriolanus,  it  was 
+noted,  even  by  Pope,  'that  the  whole  history  is  exactly 
+'  followed,  and  many  of  the  principal  speeches  exactly  copied, 
+'  from  the  life  of  Coriolanus  in  Plutarch.'  This  exactitude, 
+apart  from  its  intrinsic  interest,  may  sometimes  assist  in 
+
+1  Essais,  II.  iv, 
+
+-  It  is  founded  on  one  passage  in  the  Alcibiades  and  another  in  the  Antony. 
+'  Plutarch.     Five  Lectures,  p.  66. 
+Ixxxviii 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+restoring  a  defective  passage.     One  such  piece  there  is  in      INTRO- 
+II.  iii.  231  of  the  Cambridge  Shakespeare,  1865  :  DUCTION 
+
+'  The  noble  hoiise  o  the  Marcians,  from  whence  came 
+That  Ancus  Marcius,  Numa's  daughter  s  son, 
+Who,  after  great  Hostilius,  here  wa^  king ; 
+Of  the  same  house  Fublius  and  Quintus  were. 
+That  our  best  water  brought  by  conduits  hither. ' 
+
+The  Folios  here  read  : 
+
+
+'  And  Nobly  nam'd^  so  twice  being  Censor, 
+Was  his  great  Ancestor.' 
+
+
+It  is  evident  that,  after  '  hither,'  a  line  has  been  lost,  and  A  Lost  Line 
+Rowe,  Pope,  Delius,  and  others  have  tried  their  best  to 
+recapture  it.  Pope,  knowing  of  Shakespeare'*s  debt  and 
+founding  his  emendation  on  North,  could  suggest  nothing 
+better  than  'And  Censorinus,  darling  of  the  people';  while 
+Delius,  still  more  strangely,  stumbled,  as  I  must  think, 
+on  the  right  reading,  but  for  the  inadequate  reason  that 
+'  darling  of  the  people '  does  not  sound  like  Shakespeare.  I 
+have  given  in  italics  the  words  taken  from  North :  and, 
+applying  the  same  method  to  the  line  suggested  by  Delius, 
+you  read :  '  And  Censorinus  that  was  so  surnamed,''  then, 
+in  the  next  line,  by  merely  shifting  a  comma,  you  read  on : 
+'  And  nobly  named  so,  twice  being  CensorS  Had  Delius 
+pointed  out  that  he  got  his  line  simply  by  following 
+Shakespeare's  practice  of  taking  so  many  of  North's  words, 
+in  their  order,  as  would  fall  into  blank  verse,  his  emendation 
+must  surely  have  been  accepted,  since  it  involves  no  change 
+in  the  subsequent  lines  of  the  Folios ;  whereas  the  Cambridge 
+Shakespeare  breaks  one  line  into  two,  and  achieves  but  an 
+awkward  result : 
+
+'  And  [Censorinus]  nobly  named  so, 
+Twice  being  [by  the  people  chosen]  censor. ' 
+
+The  closeness  of  Shakespeare's  rendering,  indicated  by  this  The  Sum  of 
+use  of  italics,  is  not  particular  to  this  passage,  but  is  universal  Shakespeare's 
+throughout  the  play.     Sometimes  he  gives  a  conscious  turn  ^^^* 
+to  North's  unconscious  humour :  as  when,  in  the  Parable  of 
+the  Belly  and  the  Members,  North  writes,  '  And  so  the  bellie, 
+"*  Ixxxix 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+INTRO-      '  all  this  notwithstanding  laughed  at  their  follie ' ;  and  Shake- 
+
+DUCTION   spcarc  writes  in  i.  i.,  'For,  look  you,  I  may  make  the  belly 
+
+'  smile  As  well  as  speak.'     At  others  his  fidelity  leads  him 
+
+into  an  anachronism.     North  writes  of  Coriolanus  that  '  he 
+
+'  was  even  such  another,  as  Cato  would  have  a  souldier  and  a 
+
+'  captaine  to  be :  not  only  temble  and  fierce  to  laye  aboute 
+
+'  him,  but  to  make  the  enemie  afeard  with  the  sound  of  his 
+
+'  voyce  and  grimness  of  his  countenance.*"     And  Shakespeare, 
+
+An  Aiiachron-  with  a  frank  disregard  for  chronology,  gives  the  speech,  Cato 
+
+ism  and  all,  to  Titus  Lartius  (i.  iv.  57) : 
+
+'  Thou  wast  a  soldier 
+Even  to  Cato's  wish,  not  fierce  and  terrible 
+Only  in  strokes  ;  but  with  thy  grim  looks  and 
+The  thunder-like  percussion  of  thy  sounds^, 
+Thou  mad'st  thine  enemies  shake/ 
+
+But  perhaps  the  most  curious  evidence  of  the  degree   to 
+which  Shakespeare  steeped  himself  in  North  is  to  be  found 
+in  passages  where  he  borrowed  North's  diction  and  applied  it 
+A  Borrowed     to  new  purposes.     For  instance,  in  North  '  a  goodly  horse 
+Palette  t  with  a  capparison '  is  offered  to  Coriolanus ;  in  Shakespeare, 
+
+at  the  same  juncture,  Lartius  says  of  him  : 
+
+'  O  General, 
+Here  is  the  steed,  we  the  caparison. ' 
+
+Shakespeare,  that  is,  not  only  copies  North's  pictm-e,  he  also 
+uses  North's  palette.  Throughout  the  play  he  takes  the 
+incidents,  the  images,  and  the  very  words  of  North.  You 
+read  in  North  :  '  More  over  he  sayed  they  nourished  against 
+'  themselves,  the  naughty  seede  and  cockle  of  insolencie  and 
+'  sedition,  which  had  been  sowed  and  scattered  abroade 
+'  amongst  the  people.'     And  in  Shakespeare,  iii.  i.  69  : 
+
+'  In  soothing  them  we  nourish  'gainst  our  senate 
+The  cockle  of  rebellion,  insolence,  sedition, 
+Which  we  ourselves  have  plough'd  for,  sow'd  and  scatter' d.' 
+
+Of  course  it  is  not  argued  that  Shakespeare  has  not  contri- 
+buted much  of  incalculable  worth  :  the  point  is  that  he  found 
+a  vast  deal  which  he  needed  not  to  change.     When  Shake- 
+speare adds,  IV.  vii.  33 : 
+xc 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+'  I  think  he  '11  be  to  Rome  INTRO- 
+
+As  is  the  osprey  to  the  fish,  who  takes  it  DUCTION 
+
+By  sovereignty  of  nature/ 
+
+he  is  turning  prose  into  poetry.  When  he  creates  the 
+character  of  Menenius  Agrippa  from  North's  allusion  to 
+'  certaine  of  the  plesauntest  olde  men,'  he  is  turning  narra- 
+tive into  drama,  as  he  is,  too,  in  his  development  of  Volumnia,  Transfigura- 
+from  a  couple  of  references  and  one  immortal  speech.  But  ^i^" 
+these  additions  and  developments  can  in  no  way  minimise 
+the  fact  that  he  takes  from  North  that  speech,  and  the  two 
+others  which  are  the  pivots  of  the  play,  as  they  stand. 
+There  is  the  one  in  which  Coriolanus  discovers  himself  to 
+Aufidius.  I  take  it  from  the  Cambridge  Shakespeare,  and 
+print  the  actual  borrowings  in  italics  (iv.  v.  53) : 
+
+'  Cob.  (Unmuffling)  If,  Tullus, 
+
+Not  yet  thou  knowest  me,  and,  seeing  me,  dost  not 
+
+Think  me  for  the  man  I  am,  necessity 
+
+Commands  me  to  name  myself,  ... 
+
+My  name  is  Caius  Marcius,  who  hath  done 
+
+To  thee  particularly,  and  to  all  the  Volsces, 
+
+Great  hurt  and  mischief;  thereto  witness  may 
+
+My  surname,  Coriolanus :  the  painful  service. 
+
+The  extreme  dangers,  and  the  drops  of  blood 
+
+Shed  for  my  thankless  country,  are  requited 
+
+But  with  that  surname ;  a  good  memory. 
+
+And  witness  of  the  malice  and  displeasure 
+
+Which  thou  shouldst  bear  me  :  only  that  name  remains  ; 
+
+The  cruelty  and  envy  of  the  people. 
+
+Permitted  by  our  dastard  nobles,  who 
+
+Have  allybrsook  me,  hath  devour'd  the  rest ; 
+
+And  suifer'd  me  by  the  voice  of  slaves  to  be 
+
+Whoop'd  out  of  Rome.     Now,  this  extremity 
+
+Hath  brought  me  to  thy  hearth  :  not  out  of  hope — 
+
+Mistake  me  not — to  save  my  life,  for  if 
+
+I  hadfear'd  death,  of  all  men  i'  the  world 
+
+I  would  have  voided  thee  ;  but  in  mere  spite 
+
+To  be  full  quit  of  those  my  banishers. 
+
+Stand  I  before  thee  here.     Then  if  thou  hast 
+
+A  heart  of  wreak  in  thee,  that  wilt  revenge 
+
+Thine  own  particular  wrongs  and  stop  those  maims 
+
+Of  shame  seen  through  thy  country,  speed  thee  straight. 
+
+And  make  my  misery  serve  thy  turn  :  so  use  it 
+
+That  my  revengeful  services  may  prove 
+
+As  benefits  to  thee  ;  for  I  will  fight 
+
+xci 
+
+
+INTRO- 
+DUCTION 
+
+
+Parallels  and 
+Correspond- 
+ences 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+Against  my  canker'd  country  with  the  spleen 
+Of  all  the  under  fiends.     But  if  so  be 
+Thou  darest  not  this  and  that  to  prove  more  fortunes 
+Thou  'rt  tired,  then,  in  a  word,  /  also  am 
+Longer  to  live  most  weary.' 
+
+The  second,  which  is  Volumnia's  (v.  iii.  94),  is  too  long  for 
+quotation.     It  opens  thus  : 
+
+'  Should  we  be  silent  and  not  speak,  our  raiment 
+And  state  of  bodies  would  bewray  what  life 
+We  have  led  since  thy  exile.     Think  with  thyself 
+How  more  unfortunate  than  all  living  women 
+Are  we  come  hither ' ; 
+
+and  here,  to  illustrate  Shakespeare's  method  of  rhythmical 
+condensation,  is  the  corresponding  passage  in  North.  '  If 
+'  we  helde  our  peace  (my  sonne)  and  determined  riot  to  speake, 
+'  the  state  of  our  poore  bodies,  and  present  sight  of  our  rai- 
+'  ment,  would  easily  bewray  to  thee  what  life  we  have  led  at 
+'  home,  since  thy  exile  and  abode  abroad.  But  thinJce  now 
+'  with  thyself  howe  much  more  unfortunately,  then  all  the 
+'  women  livinge  we  are  come  hether.''  I  have  indicated  by 
+italics  the  words  that  are  common  to  both,  but  even  so,  I 
+can  by  no  means  show  the  sum  of  Shakespeare's  debt,  or  so 
+much  as  hint  at  the  peculiar  glory  of  Sir  Thomas's  prose. 
+There  is  no  mere  question  of  borrowed  language ;  for  North 
+and  Shakespeare  have  each  his  own  excellence,  of  prose  and  of 
+verse.  Shakespeare  has  taken  over  North's  vocabulary,  and 
+that  is  much  ;  but  it  is  more  that  behind  that  vocabulary 
+The  Essential  he  should  have  found  such  an  intensity  of  passion  as  would 
+in  North  fill  the  sails  of  the  highest  drama.     North  has  every  one  of 
+
+Shakespeare's  most  powerful  effects  in  his  version  of  the 
+speech  :  '  Trust  unto  it,  thou  shalt  no  sorter  marcJie  forward  to 
+'  assault  thy  countrie,  but  thy  foote  shall  treade  upon  thy 
+'  mothers  xoombe,  that  brought  thee  first  into  this  world'';  'Doest 
+'  thou  take  it  honourable  for  a  nobleman  to  remember  the 
+'  wrongs  and  injuries  done  him';  '  Tlwu  hast  not  hitherto 
+'  shewed  thy  poore  mother  any  courtesy ' :  these  belong  to 
+North,  and  they  are  the  motors  of  Shakespeare's  emotion. 
+The  two  speeches,  dressed,  the  one  in  perfect  prose,  the  other 
+in  perfect  verse,  are  both  essentially  the  same  under  their 
+xcii 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+faintly  yet  magically  varied  raiment.     The  dramatic  tension,      INTRO- 
+
+the  main  argument,  the  turns  of  pleading,  even  the  pause    DUCTION 
+
+and  renewal  of  entreaty,  all  are  in  North,  and  are  expressed 
+
+by  the  same  spoken  words  and  the  same  gap  of  silence.     In 
+
+the  blank  verse  a  shorter  cadence  is  disengaged  from  the 
+
+ampler  movement  of  prose ;  here  and  there,  too,  a  line  is 
+
+added.     'To  tear  with  thunder  the  wide  cheeks  o'  the  air," 
+
+could  only  have  been  written  by  an  Elizabethan  dramatist ; 
+
+even  as 
+
+*  Wheu  she,  poor  hen,  fond  of  no  second  brood, 
+Has  clucked  thee  to  the  wars,  and  safely  home,' 
+
+could  only  have  been  written  by  Shakespeare.     The  one  is  Shakespeare 
+extravagant,  the  other  beautiful ;  but  the  power  and  the 
+pathos  are  complete  without  them,  for  these  reside  in  the 
+substance  and  the  texture  of  the  mother's  entreaty,  which 
+are  wholly  North's.     It  is  just  to  add  that,  saving  for  some  North 
+crucial  touches,  as  in  the  substitution  of '  womb  "■  for  '  corps,' 
+they  belong  also  to  Amyot.      To  the  mother's  immortal 
+entreaty  there  follows  the  son's  immortal  reply  :  the  third 
+great  speech  of  Shakespeare's  play.    It  runs  in  Amyot ;  '  "  O  Amyot 
+"  mere,  que  m'as  tu  fait  ? "  et  en  luy  serrant  estroittement 
+la  main  droitte  :  "  Ha,"  dit-il,  "  mei-e,  tu  as  vaincu  une  vic- 
+"toire  heureuse  pour  ton  pais,  mais  bien  malheureuse  et 
+"  mortelle  pour  ton  filz :  car  je  m'en  revois  vaincu,  par  toi 
+"  seule." '     In  North  :  ' "  Oh  mother,  what  have  you  done 
+"  to  me  ?  "     And  holding  her  hard  by  the  right  hand,  "  Oh 
+"  mother,"  sayed  he,  "  you  have  wonne  a  happy  victorie  for 
+"  your  countrie,  but  mortall  and  unhappy  for  your  sonne  ; 
+"  for  I  see  myself  vanquished  by  you  alone." '    North  accepts  An  Heirloom 
+the  precious  jewel  from  Amyot,  without  loss  of  emotion  or 
+addition  of  phrase  :   he  repeats   the  desolate  question,  the 
+singultus  of  repeated  apostrophe,  the   closing  note  of  un- 
+paralleled doom.      Shakespeare,  too,  accepts  them  in  turn 
+fi'om  North  ;   and  one  is  sorry  that  even   he   should    have 
+added  a  word. 
+
+What,  it  may  be  asked,  led  Shakespeare,  amid  all  the  The  Reason  of 
+power  and  magnificence  of  North's  Plutarch^  to  select  his  Shakespeare's 
+CoriolaiiuSy  his  Julius  Cccsar^  and  his  Antonius  ?    The  answer,  Choice 
+
+xciii 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+Colour 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+INTRO-  I  think,  must  be  that  in  Volumnia,  Calpurnia  and  Portia, 
+DUCTION  and  Cleopatra,  he  found  woman  in  her  three-fold  relation  to 
+man,  of  mother,  wife,  and  mistress.  I  have  passed  over 
+Shakespeare's  Julius  Ccesar ;  but  I  may  end  by  tracing  in 
+his  Antony  the  golden  tradition  he  accepted  from  Amyot 
+and  North.  It  is  impossible  to  do  this  in  detail,  for 
+throughout  the  first  three  acts  all  the  colour  and  the  inci- 
+dent, throughout  the  last  two  all  the  incident  and  the 
+passion,  are  taken  by  Shakespeare  from  North,  and  by  North 
+from  Amyot.  Enobarbus's  speech  (ii.  ii.  194),  depicting 
+the  pageant  of  Cleopatra"'s  voyage  up  the  Cydnus  to  meet 
+Antony,  is  but  North's  '  The  manner  how  he  fell  in  love  with 
+'  her  was  this.'  Cleopatra's  harge  with  its  poop  of  gold 
+and  purple  sails,  and  its  oars  of  silver,  which  '  kept  stroke, 
+'  after  the  sound  of  the  musicke  qfjlutes ' ;  her  own  person 
+in  her  pavilion,  cloth  of  gold  of  tissue,  even  as  Venus  is 
+pictured  ;  her  pretty  boys  on  each  side  of  her,  like  Cupids, 
+with  their  fans  ;  her  gentlewomen  like  the  Nereides,  steering 
+the  helm  and  handling  the  tackle ;  the  '  wonderful  passing 
+'  sweete  savor  of  perfumes  that  perfumed  the  ay/iar/^-side ' ; 
+all  down  to  Antony  '  left  post  alone  in  the  market-place  in 
+'  his  Imperiall  seate,'  are  translated  bodily  from  the  one 
+book  to  the  other,  with  but  a  little  added  ornament  of 
+Elizabethan  fancy.  Shakespeare,  indeed,  is  saturated  with 
+North's  language  and  possessed  by  his  passion.  He  is 
+haunted  by  the  story  as  North  has  told  it,  so  that  he  even 
+fails  to  eliminate  matters  which  either  are  nothing  to  his 
+purpose  or  are  not  susceptible  of  di'amatic  presentment :  as 
+in  I.  ii.  of  the  Folios,  where  you  find  Lamprias,  Plutarch's 
+grandfather,  and  his  authority  for  many  details  of  Antony's 
+career,  making  an  otiose  entry  as  Lamprius,  among  the 
+characters  who  have  something  to  say.  Everywhere  are 
+touches  whose  colour  must  remain  comparatively  pale  unless 
+they  glow  again  for  us  as,  doubtless,  they  glowed  for  Shake- 
+speare, with  hues  reflected  from  the  passages  in  North  that 
+shone  in  his  memory.  For  instance,  when  his  Antony  says 
+(i.  i.  53) : 
+
+'  To-night  we  '11  wander  through  the  streets  and  note 
+The  qualities  of  people/ 
+xciv 
+
+
+Shakespeare 
+Possessed  by 
+North 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+you  need  to  know  from  North  that  'sometime  also  when  he      INTRO- 
+'  would  goc  up  and  downe  the  citie  disguised  like  a  slave  in    DUCTION 
+'  the  night,  and  would  peere  into  poore  men's  windowes  and 
+'  their  shops,  and  scold  and    brawl  with  them  within  the 
+'  house ;  Cleopatra  would  be  also  in  a  chamber- maides  an'ay, 
+'  and  amble  up   and  down  the  streets  with  him ' ;  for  the 
+fantastic  rowdyism  of  this  Imperial  masquerading  is  all  but  To  the  Point 
+lost  in  Shakespeare's  hurried  allusion.    During  his  first  three  ^^  ^^^^}^^^^ 
+Acts  Shakespeare  merely  paints  the  man  and  the  woman  who 
+are  to  suffer  and  die  in  his  two  others ;  and  for  these  por- 
+traits he  has  scraped  together  all   his  colour  from  the  many 
+such  passages  as  are  scattered  through  the  earlier  and  longer 
+portion  of  North's  Antonius.     Antony's  Spartan  endurance 
+in  bygone  days,  sketched  in  Caesar's  speech  (i.  iv.  59) — 
+
+'  Thou  didst  driuk 
+The  stale  of  horses  and  the  gilded  puddle 
+Which  beasts  would  cough  at :  thy  palate  then  did  deign 
+The  roughest  berry  on  the  rudest  hedge  ; 
+Yea,  like  a  stag  when  snow  the  pasture  sheets^ 
+The  barks  of  trees  thou  brousedst.     On  the  Alps 
+It  is  reported  thou  didst  eat  strange  flesh, 
+Which  some  did  die  to  look  on ' — 
+
+is  thus  originated  by  North :  *  It  was  a  wonderful  example 
+'  to  the  souldiers,  to  see  Antonius  that  was  brought  up  in 
+
+*  all  fineness  and  superfluity,  so  easily  to  drink  puddle  water, 
+
+*  and  to   eate  wild   fruits   and   rootes  :    and    moreover,  it 
+'  is  reported  that  even  as  they  passed  the  Alpes,  they  did 
+
+*  eate  the  barks  of  trees,  and  such  beasts  as  never  man  tasted 
+
+'  their  flesh  before.'  For  his  revels  in  Alexandria,  Shake-  Colour 
+speare  has  taken  'the  eight  wild  boars  roasted  whole'  (ii. 
+ii.  183) ;  for  Cleopatra's  disports,  the  diver  who  '  did  hang  a 
+'  salt  fish  on  his  hook '  (ii.  v.  17).  In  iii.  iii.  the  dialogue  with 
+the  Soothsayer,  with  every  particular  of  Antony's  Demon 
+overmatched  by  Caesar's,  and  of  his  ill  luck  with  Caesar  at 
+dice,  cocking,  and  quails  ;  in  iii.  x.  the  galley's  name, 
+Antoniad ;  and  in  iii.  vi.  Caesar's  account  of  the  coronation  on 
+a  '  tribunal  silver''d,''  and  of  Cleopatra's  '  giving  audience '  in 
+the  habiliment  of  the  Goddess  Isis,  are  other  such  colour 
+patches.     And  this,  which  is  true  of  colour,  is  true  also  of 
+
+xcv 
+
+
+INTRO- 
+DUCTION 
+
+
+Incident 
+
+
+Antony  and 
+Cleopatra,  iv. 
+and  V. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+incident  in  the  first  three  Acts.  The  scene  near  Misenum 
+in  II.  vi.,with  the  light  tallc  between  Pompey  and  Antony,  is 
+hardly  intelligible  apart  from  North  :  *  Whereupon  Antonius 
+'  asked  him  (Sextus  Pompeius),  "  And  where  shall  we  sup  ?  " 
+'  "There,"'''  sayd  Pompey;  and  showed  him  his  admiral 
+'  galley  ..."  that,"  said  he,  "  is  my  father"'s  house  they 
+'  "  have  left  me.""  He  spake  it  to  taunt  Antonius  because  he 
+'  had  his  father"'s  house."*  On  the  galley  in  the  next  scene, 
+the  offer  of  Menas,  'Let  me  cut  the  cable,"*  and  Pompey''s 
+reply  '  Ah,  this  thou  shouldst  have  done  and  not  have  spoke 
+'  on''t ! "'  may  be  read  almost  textually  in  North  :  '  "  Shall  I 
+'  "  cut  the  gables  of  the  ankers  ? "'"'  Pompey  having  paused  a 
+'  while  upon  it,  at  length  answered  him :  "  thou  shouldst 
+'  "  have  done  it  and  never  told  it  me."'"' '  In  in.  vii.  the  old 
+soldier"'s  appeal  to  Antony  not  to  fight  by  sea,  with  all  his 
+arguments ;  in  ii.  xi.  Antony"'s  offer  to  his  friends  of  a  ship 
+laden  with  gold ;  in  in.  xii.  his  request  to  Caesar  that  he  may 
+live  at  Athens ;  in  in.  xiii.  the  whipping  of  Thyreus,  with 
+Cleopatra's  announcement,  when  Antony  is  pacified,  that 
+'  Since  my  lord  Is  Antony  again,  I  will  be  Cleopatra — "*  ^  all 
+these  incidents  are  compiled  from  the  many  earlier  pages  of 
+North^'s  A  ntonius.  But  in  the  Fourth  Act  Shakespeare  changes 
+his  method :  he  has  no  more  need  to  gather  and  arrange. 
+Rather  the  concentrated  passion,  born  of,  and  contained  in, 
+North''s  serried  narrative,  expands  in  his  verse — nay,  ex- 
+plodes from  it — into  those  flashes  of  immortal  speech  which 
+have  given  the  Fourth  Act  of  Antony  and  Cleopatra  its  place 
+apart  even  in  Shakespeare.  Of  all  that  may  be  said  of 
+North''s  Plutarch^  this  perhaps  is  of  deepest  significance  : 
+that  every  dramatic  incident  in  Shakespeare"'s  Fourth  Act  is 
+contained  in  two,  and  in  his  Fifth  Act,  in  one  and  a  half 
+folio  pages  of  the  Antonius.  Let  me  rehearse  the  incidents. 
+The  Fourth  Act  opens  with  Antony ""s  renewed  challenge  to 
+Caesar,  and  is  somewhat  marred  by  Shakespeare"'s  too  faithful 
+following  of  an  error  in  North"'s  translation. 
+
+'  Let  the  old  ruffian  know 
+I  have  many  other  ways  to  die ' 
+
+
+^  One  of  North's  mistranslations :  she  kept  Antony's  birthday,  not  her  own. 
+xcvi 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+is   taken   from   North;   but   North   has   mistaken   Amyot,      INTRO- 
+who  correctly  renders    Plutarch's  version   of  the   repartee,    DUCTION 
+that  *  he  (Antony)  has  many  other  ways  to  die ' :  ('  Cesar 
+'  luy  feit  response,   qiCil  avoit   beaucoup  cTautre  moiens  de 
+'  mourir  que  celuy  la.'')     In  North,  this    second   challenge 
+comes  after  (1)  the  sally  in  which  Antony  drove  Cassar''s 
+horsemen  back  to  their  camp  (iv,  vii.) ;   (2)  the  passage  in 
+which  he  '  sweetly  kissed  Cleopatra,  armed  as  he  was,""  and 
+commended  to  her  a  wounded  soldier  (iv.  viii.) ;  (3)  the  subse- 
+quent defection  of  that  soldier,  which  Shakespeare,  harking 
+back   to   the  earlier   defection  of  Domitius,  described  by 
+North  before  Actium,  develops  into  Enobarbus's  defection 
+and  Antony's  magnanimity   (iv.  v.),  with  Enobarbus's   re- 
+pentance   and    death   (iv.    vi.    and    ix.).      In    North,   hard 
+after   the   challenge    follows  the  supper  at  which  Antony 
+made  his  followers  weep  (iv.  ii.)  and  the  mysterious  music 
+portending  the  departure  of  Hercules  (iv.  iii.).     The  latter 
+passage  is  so  full  of  awe  that  I  cannot  choose  but  quote. 
+Furthermore,'  says  North,  '  the  self  same  night  within  little  '  'Tis  the  god 
+of  midnight,  when  all  the  citie  was  quiet,  full  of  feare,  and  Hercules ' 
+sorrowe,  thinking  what  would  be  the  issue  and  end  of  this 
+warre  :    it  is  said  that  sodainly  they  heard  a  marvelous 
+sweete  harmonie  of  sundrie  sortes  of  instruments  of  musicke, 
+with  the  crie  of  a  multitude  of  people,  as  they  had  beene 
+dauncing,  and  had  song  as  they  use  in  Bacchus  feastes,  with 
+movinges  and  turninges  after  the  manner  of  the  satyres, 
+and  it  seemed  that  this  daunce  went  through  the  city  unto 
+the  gate  that  opened  to  the  enemies,  and  that  all  the  troupe 
+that  made  this  noise  they  heard  went  out  of  the  city  at  that 
+gate.    Now,  such  as  in  reason  sought  the  interpretation  of 
+this  wonder,  thought  that  it  was  the  god  unto  whom  Antonius 
+bare  singular  devotion  to  counterfeate  and  resemble  him, 
+that  did  forsake  them.'  ^    The  incident  is  hardly  susceptible 
+of  dramatic    representation,   but    Shakespeare,    as   it    were 
+spellbound  by  his   material,  must  even  try  his  hand  at  a 
+
+^  Translated  word  for  word  from  Amyot.  Any  one  who  cares  to  pursue 
+this  tradition  of  beauty  still  further  towards  its  sources  will  find  that  in  the 
+Anionius  Amyot  was  in  turn  the  debtor  of  Leonardus  Aretinus,  who  did  the 
+life  into  Latin  for  the  editio  princeps  (1470)  of  Campani. 
+
+n  xcvii 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+
+Plutarch's 
+Realism 
+
+
+INTRO-  miracle.  Follows,  in  North,  the  treachery  of  Cleopatra's 
+DUCTION  troops ;  Antony's  accusation  of  Cleopatra  (iv.  x.  xi.  and  xii.); 
+Cleopatra's  flight  to  the  monument  and  the  false  message  of 
+her  death  (iv.  xiii.);  Antony's  dialogue  with  Eros,  the  suicide 
+of  Eros,  and  the  attempt  of  Antony  (iv.  xiv.)  ;  and  the 
+death  of  Antony  (iv.  xv.).  Every  incident  in  Shakespeare's 
+Act  is  contained  in  these  two  pages  of  North  ;  and  not  only 
+the  incidents  but  the  very  passion  of  the  speeches.  'O 
+'  Cleopatra,'  says  Antonius,  '  it  grieveth  me  not  that  I  have 
+'  lost  thy  companie,  for  I  will  not  be  long  from  thee ;  but  I 
+'  am  Sony,  that  having  bene  so  great  a  captaine  and  em- 
+'  perour,  I  am  in  deede  condemned  to  be  judged  of  less 
+'  corage  and  noble  minde  then  a  woman.'  Or  take,  again, 
+the  merciless  realism  of  Cleopatra's  straining  to  draw  Antony 
+up  into  the  monument : — '  Notwithstanding  Cleopatra  would 
+'  not  open  the  gates,  but  came  to  the  high  windowes,  and 
+'  cast  out  certaine  chaines  and  ropes,  in  the  which  Antony  was 
+'  trussed  :  and  Cleopatra  her  oune  selfe,  with  two  women  only, 
+'  which  she  had  suffered  to  come  with  her  into  these  monu- 
+'  ments,  trised  Antonius  up.  They  that  were  present  to 
+'  behold  it,  said  they  never  saw  so  pitiefull  a  sight.  For 
+'  they  plucked  poore  Antonius  all  Isloody  as  he  was,  and 
+'  drawing  on  with  pangs  of  death,  who  holding  up  his  hands 
+'  to  Cleopatra,  raised  up  him  selfe  as  well  as  he  could.  It 
+'  was  a  hard  thing  for  these  women  to  do,  to  lift  him  up : 
+'  but  Cleopatra  stooping  downe  with  her  head,  putting  to 
+'  all  her  strength  to  her  uttermost  power,  did  lift  him  up 
+'  v/ith  much  adoe,  and  never  let  goe  her  hold,  with  the  helpe 
+'  of  the  women  beneath  that  bad  her  be  of  good  corage,  and 
+'  were  as  sorie  to  see  her  labour  so,  as  she  her  selfe.  So 
+'  when  she  had  gotten  him  in  after  that  sorte,  and  layed 
+'  him  on  a  bed :  she  rent  her  garments  upon  him,  clapping 
+'  her  breast,  and  scratching  her  face  and  stomake.  Then  she 
+'  dried  up  his  blood  that  herayed  his  face,  and  called  him  her 
+'  Lord,  her  husband,  and  Emperor,  forgetting  her  miserie  and 
+'  calam,itie,Jor  tJie  pitie  and  compassion  she  took  of  him.''  In 
+all  this  splendour  North  is  Amyot,  and  Amyot  is  Plutarch, 
+while  Plutarch  is  but  the  reporter  of  events  within  the  re- 
+collection of  men  he  had  seen  living ;  so  that  Shakespeare's 
+xcviii 
+
+
+A  Traditiou 
+of  Passion 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+Fourth  Act  is  based  on  old-world  realism  made  dynamic  by  INTRO- 
+North's  incomparable  prose.  Then  come  Antony ""s  call  for  DUCTION 
+wine  and  his  last  speech,  which  Shakespeare  has  taken  with 
+scarce  a  change  :  'And  for  himself,  that  she  should  not  lament 
+'  nor  son'owe  for  the  miserable  chaunge  of  his  fortune  at  the 
+'  end  of  his  dayes  :  but  rather  that  she  should  thinke  him 
+'  the  more  fortunate,  for  the  former  triumphe  and  honors  he 
+'  had  received,  considering  that  while  he  lived  he  was  the 
+
+*  noblest  and  gi*eatest  prince  of  the  world,  and  that  now  he 
+'  was  overcome  not  cowardly,  but  valiantly,  a  Romane  by 
+'  another  Romane.**     In  Shakespeare  : 
+
+'  Please  your  thoughts  Its  Supreme 
+
+In  feeding  them  with  those  my  former  fortunes  Expression 
+
+Wherein  I  liv'd  :  the  greatest  prince  o'  the  world. 
+The  noblest :  and  do  now  not  basely  die. 
+Not  cowardly  put  off  my  helmet  to 
+My  countryman,  a  Roman  by  a  Roman 
+Valiantly  vanquished.' 
+
+To  the  end  of  the  play  the  poet's  fidelity  is  as  close ;  and 
+North's  achievement  in  narrative  prose  is  only  less  signal 
+than  Shakespeare's  in  dramatic  verse.     Every  characteristic 
+touch,  even  to  Cleopatra's  outburst  against  Seleucus,  is  in 
+North.    Indeed,  in  the  Fifth  Act  I  venture  to  say  that  Shake- 
+speare has  not  transcended  his  original.     There  is  in  North  An  Over- 
+a  speech  of  Cleopatra  at  the  tomb  of  Antony,  which  can  ill  looked 
+be  spared  ;  since  it  is  only  indicated  in  Shakespeare  (v.  ii.  303)  Apostrophe 
+by  a  brief  apostrophe — 
+
+'  O,  couldst  thou  speak, 
+
+That  I  might  hear  thee  call  great  Csesar  ass 
+
+Unpolicied ' — 
+
+which  is  often  confused  with  the  context  addressed  to  the  asp. 
+In  North  you  read :  '  She  was  carried  to  the  place  where  his 
+
+*  tombe  was,  and  there  falling  downe  on  her  knees,  imbracing 
+'  the  tombe  with  her  women,  the  teares  running  doune  her 
+'  cheekes,  she  began  to  speake  in  this  sorte  :  "  O  my  deare  Lord 
+'  "  Antonius,  not  long  sithence  I  buried  thee  here,  being  a  free 
+'  "  woman  :  and  now  I  offer  unto  thee  the  fiuierall  sprinklinges 
+'  "  and  oblations,  being  a  captive  and  prisoner,  and  yet  I  am 
+'  "  forbidden  and  kept  from  tearing  and  murdering  this  captive 
+
+xcix 
+
+
+INTRO- 
+DUCTION 
+
+
+The  Last 
+Splendour 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+"  body  of  mine  with  blowes,  which  they  carefully  gard  and 
+"  keepe,  only  to  triumphe  of  thee :  looke  therefore  hence- 
+"  forth  for  no  other  honors,  oferinges,  nor  sacrifices  from 
+"  me,  for  these  are  the  last  which  Cleopatra  can  geve  thee, 
+"  sith  nowe  they  carie  her  away.  Whilest  we  lived  together 
+"  nothing  could  sever  our  companies  :  but  now  at  our  death, 
+"  I  feare  me  they  will  make  us  chaunge  our  countries.  For 
+"  as  thou  being  a  Romane,  hast  been  buried  in  Mgypt :  even 
+"  so  wretched  creatm'e  I,  an  -Egyptian,  shall  be  buried  in 
+"  Italic,  which  shall  be  all  the  good  that  I  have  received 
+"  of  thy  contrie.  If  therefore  the  Gods  where  thou  art  now 
+"  have  any  power  and  authoritie,  sith  our  gods  here  have  for- 
+"  saken  us  :  suffer  not  thy  true  friend  and  lover  to  be  caried 
+"  away  alive,  that  in  me,  they  triumphe  of  thee  :  but  receive 
+"  me  with  thee,  and  let  me  be  burned  in  one  selfe  tombe  with 
+"  thee.  For  though  my  griefes  and  miseries  be  infinite,  yet 
+"  none  hath  grieved  me  more,  nor  that  I  could  lesse  beare 
+"  withall :  then  this  small  time,  which  I  had  been  driven  to 
+"  live  alone  without  thee." '  Her  prayer  is  granted.  The 
+countryman  comes  in  with  his  figs ;  and  then,  '  Her  death 
+was  very  sodaine.  For  those  whom  Caesar  sent  unto  her 
+ran  thither  in  all  hast  possible,  and  found  the  souldiers 
+standing  at  the  gate,  mistrusting  nothing,  nor  understand- 
+ing of  her  death.  But  when  they  opened  the  dores,  they 
+found  Cleopatra  starke  dead,  layed  upon  a  bed  of  gold, 
+attired  and  araied  in  her  royall  robes,  and  one  of  her  two 
+women,  which  was  called  Iras,  dead  at  her  feete ;  and  her 
+other  woman  called  Charmion  halfe  dead,  and  trembling, 
+trimming  the  Diademe  which  Cleopatra  ware  upon  her  head. 
+One  of  the  souldiers  seeing  her,  angrily  sayd  unto  her :  "  Is 
+"  that  well  done,  Charmion .? "  "  Verie  well,"  sayd  she  againe, 
+"  and  meet  for  a  Princes  discended  from  the  race  of  so  many 
+"  noble  kings."  She  sayd  no  more,  but  fell  doune  dead  hard 
+by  the  bed."* 
+I  doubt  if  there  are  many  pages  which  may  rank  with 
+these  last  of  North's  Antonius  in  the  prose  of  any  language. 
+They  are  the  golden  crown  of  his  Plutarch^  but  their  fellows 
+are  all  a  royal  vesture  wrapping  a  kingly  body.  For  the 
+Parallel  Lives  is  a  book  most  sovereign  in  its  dominion  over 
+c 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+the  minds  of  great  men  in  every  age.     Henri  iv,,  in  a  love-      INTRO- 
+
+letter,  written  between  battles,  to  his  young  wife,  Marie  de    DUCTION 
+
+Medicis,  speaks  of  it  as  no  other  such  hero  has  spoken  of  any 
+
+other  volume,  amid  such  dire  surroundings  and  in  so  dear  a 
+
+context.     But  if  it  has  armed  men  of  action,  it  has  urged 
+
+men  of  letters.     Macaulay  claimed  it  for  his  '  forte  ...  to 
+
+'  give  a  life  after  the  manner  of  Plutarch,''  and  he  tells  us 
+
+that,  between  the  writing  of  two  pages,  when  for  weeks  a 
+
+solitary  at  his  task,  he  would  '  ramble  five  or  six  hours  over 
+
+'  rocks  and  through   copsewood  with  Plutarch.""      Of  good 
+
+English  prose  there  is  much,  but  of  the  world''s  greatest 
+
+books  in  great  English  prose  there  are  not  many.     Here 
+
+is  one,  worthy  to  stand  with  Malory''s  Morte  Darthur  on 
+
+either  side  the  English  Bible. 
+
+GEORGE  WYNDHAM. 
+
+
+01 
+
+
+'W 
+
+
+NOTE 
+
+This  text  is  reprinted  from 
+
+the  Editio  Princeps  of 
+
+1579 
+
+
+THE   LIVES  OF 
+
+THE  NOBLE  GRECIANS 
+AND  ROMANES 
+
+COMPARED  TOGETHER  BY  THAT  GRAVE  LEARN- 
+ED PHILOSOPHER  AND  HISTORIOGRAPHER 
+
+PLUTARKE    OF    CHiERONEA 
+
+TRANSLATED  OUT  OF  GREEKE  INTO  FRENCH  BY 
+
+JAMES    AMYOT 
+
+ABBOT  OF  BELLOZANE,  BISHOP  OF  AUXERRE,  OXE  OF  THE 
+KINGS  PRIVY  COUXSEL,  AXD  GREAT  AMXER  OF  FRAUXCE 
+
+AND  OUT  OF  FRENCH  INTO  ENGLISHE  BY 
+
+THOMAS    NORTH 
+
+1579 
+
+
+TO   THE   MOST    HIGH    AND 
+MIGHTY    PRINCESSE 
+
+ELIZABETH 
+
+BY  THE  GRACE  OF  GOD,  OF  ENGLAND,  FRAUNCE 
+
+AND  IRELAND  QUEENE 
+
+DEFENDER  OF  THE  FAITH  *.  ETC. 
+
+
+NDER  hope  of  your  highnes 
+gratious  and  accustomed  favor, 
+I  have  presumed  to  present  here 
+unto  your  Majestie,  Plutarkes 
+lyves  translated,  as  a  booke  fit  to 
+be  protected  by  your  highnes,  and 
+meete  to  be  set  forth  in  Englishe.  For  who  is  fitter 
+to  give  countenance  to  so  many  great  states,  than 
+such  an  highe  and  mightie  Princesse  ?  who  is  fitter 
+to  revive  the  dead  memorie  of  their  fame,  than  she 
+that  beareth  the  lively  image  of  their  vertues  ? 
+who  is  fitter  to  authorize  a  worke  of  so  great 
+learning  and  wisedome,  than  she  whome  all  do 
+honor  as  the  Muse  of  the  world?     Therefore  I 
+
+humbly   beseech    your    Majestie,    to    suffer    the 
+
+J3 
+
+
+THE 
+
+EPISTLE 
+DEDICA- 
+TORY 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+simplenes  of  my  translation,  to  be  covered  under 
+the  amplenes  of  your  highnes  protection.  For, 
+most  gracious  Sovereigne,  though  this  booke  be 
+no  booke  for  your  INIajesties  selfe,  who  are  meeter 
+to  be  the  chiefe  storie,  than  a  student  therein,  and 
+can  better  understand  it  in  Greeke,  than  any  man 
+can  make  it  Englishe :  yet  I  hope  the  common 
+sorte  of  your  subjects,  shall  not  onely  profit  them 
+selves  hereby,  but  also  be  animated  to  the  better 
+service  of  your  Majestic.  For  amonge  all  the 
+profane  bookes,  that  are  in  reputacion  at  this  day, 
+there  is  none  (your  highnes  best  knowes)  that 
+teacheth  so  much  honor,  love,  obedience,  rever- 
+ence, zeale,  and  devocion  to  Princes,  as  these  lives 
+of  Plutarke  doe.  Howe  many  examples  shall  your 
+subjects  reade  here,  of  severall  persons,  and  whole 
+armyes,  of  noble  and  base,  of  younge  and  olde, 
+that  both  by  sea  and  lande,  at  home  and  abroad, 
+have  strayned  their  wits,  not  regarded  their  states, 
+ventured  their  persons,  cast  away  their  lives,  not 
+onely  for  the  honor  and  safetie,  but  also  for  the 
+pleasure  of  their  Princes  ? 
+
+Then  well  may  the  Readers  thinke,  if  they  have 
+done  this  for  heathen  Kings,  what  should  we  doe 
+for  Christian  Princes  ?  If  they  have  done  this  for 
+glorye,  what  shoulde  we  doe  for  religion  ?  If  they 
+have   done   this   without   hope   of  heaven,   what 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+should  we  doe  that  looke  for  immortalitie  ?     And       the 
+so  adding  the  encouragement  of  these  exsamples,     DEDiCi" 
+to  the  forwardnes    of   their   owne    dispositions :      TORY 
+what  service  is   there   in  warre,  what  honor  in 
+peace,  which  they  will  not  be  ready  to  doe,  for 
+their  worthy  Queene  ? 
+
+And  therefore  that  your  highnes  may  give  grace 
+to  the  booke,  and  the  booke  may  doe  his  service 
+to  your  Majestic :  I  have  translated  it  out  of 
+French,  and  doe  here  most  humbly  present  the 
+same  unto  your  highnes,  beseeching  your  Majestic 
+with  all  humilitie,  not  to  reject  the  good  meaning, 
+but  to  pardon  the  errours  of  your  most  humble 
+and  obedient  subject  and  servaunt,  who  prayeth 
+God  long  to  multiplye  all  graces  and  blessings 
+upon  your  Majestic.  Written  the  sixteene  day 
+oflanuary.     1579. 
+
+Your  Majesties  most  humble  and 
+obedient  servaunt, 
+
+THOMAS  NORTH. 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+
+1 
+
+i 
+
+TO    THE    READER 
+
+HE  profit  of  stories,  and  the  prayse  of  the 
+Author,  are  sufficiently  declared  by  Amiot, 
+in  his  Epistle  to  the  Reader:  So  that  I 
+shall  not  neede  to  make  many  wordes 
+thereof.  And  in  deede  if  you  will  supply 
+the  defects  of  this  translation,  with  your 
+owne  diligence  and  good  understanding : 
+you  shall  not  neede  to  trust  him,  you  may 
+prove  your  selves,  that  there  is  no  prophane  studye  better 
+then  Plutarke.  All  other  learning  is  private,  fitter  for 
+Universities  then  cities,  fuller  of  contemplacion  than  experi- 
+ence, more  commendable  in  the  students  them  selves,  than 
+profitable  unto  others.  Whereas  stories  are  fit  for  every 
+place,  reache  to  all  persons,  serve  for  all  tymes,  teache  the 
+living,  revive  the  dead,  so  farre  excelling  all  other  bookes,  as  it 
+is  better  to  see  learning  in  noble  mens  lives,  than  to  reade  it 
+in  Philosophers  writings.  Nowe  for  the  Author,  I  will  not 
+denye  but  love  may  deceive  me,  for  I  must  needes  love  him 
+with  whome  I  have  taken  so  much  payne :  but  I  beleve  I 
+might  be  bold  to  affirme,  that  he  hath  written  the  profit- 
+ablest  story  of  all  Authors.  For  all  other  were  fayne  to 
+take  their  matter,  as  the  fortune  of  the  contries  whereof 
+they  wrote  fell  out :  But  this  man  being  excellent  in  wit, 
+learning,  and  experience,  hath  chosen  the  speciall  actes  of 
+the  best  persons,  of  the  famosest  nations  of  the  world.  But 
+I  will  leave  the  judgement  to  your  selves.  My  onely  purpose 
+is  to  desire  you  to  excuse  the  faults  of  my  translation,  with 
+your  owne  gentlenes,  and  with  the  opinion  of  my  diligence 
+and  good  entent.  And  so  I  wishe  you  all  the  profit  of  the 
+booke.  Fare  ye  well.  The  foure  and  twenty  day  of  January. 
+1579. 
+
+THOMAS  NORTH. 
+7 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+
+AMIOT  TO  THE  READERS 
+
+HE  reading-  of  hookes  which  bring  but  a 
+vayne  and  unprojitable  pleasure  to  the 
+Reader,  is  justly  misliked  of  wise  and 
+grave  men.  Againe,  the  reading  of  such 
+as  doe  but  onely  bring  profit,  and  make 
+the  Reader  to  be  in  love  therewith,  and  doe 
+not  ease  the  payne  of  the  reading  by  some 
+pleasauntnes  in  the  same :  doe  seeme  some- 
+what harshe  to  divers  delicate  wits,  that  can  not  tary  long 
+iipon  them.  But  such  bookes  as  yeeld  pleasure  and  projit,  and 
+doe  both  delight  and  teache,  have  all  that  a  man  can  desire 
+why  they  should  be  universally  liked  and  allowed  of  all  sortes 
+of  men,  according  to  the  common  saying  of  the  Poet  Horace: 
+
+That  he  which  matcheth  profit  with  delight, 
+Doth  winne  the  price  in  every  poynt  aright. 
+
+Eyther  of  these  yeeld  his  effect  the  better,  by  reason  the  one 
+runneth  with  the  other,  profiting  the  more  bicause  of  the 
+delight,  and  deliting  the  more  bicause  of  the  projit.  This 
+commendacion  {iri  my  opinion)  is  most  proper  to  the  reading 
+of  stories,  to  have  pleasure  and  profit  matched  together,  which 
+kind  of  delight  and  teaching,  meeting  in  this  wise  arvie  in 
+arme,  hath  more  allowance  than  any  other  kind  of  writing 
+or  invention  of  man.  In  respect  whereof  it  may  be  reasonably 
+avowed,  that  men  are  more  beholding  to  such  good  wits,  as  by 
+their  grave  and  wise  writing  have  deserved  the  name  qj 
+Historiographers,  then  they  are  to  any  otlier  kind  of  writers : 
+bicause  an  historic  is  an  orderly  register  of  notable  things 
+sayd,  done,  or  happened  in  tyme  past,  to  mainteyne  the  con- 
+tinuall  remembraunce  of  them,  and  to  serve  for  the  instruction 
+of  them  to  come. 
+
+8 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+And  like  as  memorie  is  as  a  storehouse  of  mens  conceits  and  AMIOT 
+devises,  without  the  which  the  actions  of  the  other  two  partes  TO  THE 
+shoidd  he  imperfect;  and  xvelneare  unprofitable:  So  may  it  READERS 
+also  he  sai/d,  that  an  historic  is  the  very  treasury  of  mans  life, 
+whereby  the  notable  doings  and  sayings  of  men,  and  the 
+wonderjidl  adventures  and  straunge  cases  {which  the  long 
+contijiuance  of  time  bringeth  forth)  are  preserved  from  the 
+death  oj  forgetfalnes.  Hereuppon  it  riseth,  that  Plato  the 
+wise  sayth,  that  the  name  of  historic  was  given  to  this  record- 
+ing of  ^natters,  to  stay  the  fleeting  of  our  memorie,  which 
+otherwise  would  be  soone  lost,  and  retayne  litle.  And  we  may 
+well  perceive  how  greatly  we  be  beholding  unto  it,  if  we  doe  no 
+more  bid  consider  in  how  horrible  darkoies,  and  in  hoxv  beastly 
+and  pestilent  a  quamyre  qfignoraunce  we  should  be  phmged:  if 
+the  remembraunce  of' all  the  thinges  that  have  bene  done,  and 
+have  happened  before  we  xoere  borne,  ivere  utterly  droxvned  and 
+forgotten.  Now  therefore  I  xvill  overpasse  the  excellencie  and 
+worthines  of  the  thing  it  selfe,  forasmuch  as  it  is  not  onely 
+of  more  antiquitie  then  any  other  kind  of  writing  that  ever 
+was  in  the  worlde,  bid  also  was  used  among  men,  before 
+there  was  any  use  of  letters  at  all :  bicause  that  men  in  those 
+dayes  delivered  in  their  lifetimes  the  remembrance  of  things 
+past  to  their  successors,  in  songes,  which  they  caused  their 
+children  to  learne  by  hart,  J'rom  hand  to  hand,  as  is  to  be 
+scene  yet  in  our  dayes,  by  thexample  of  the  barbarous  people 
+that  inhabite  the  new  found  landcs  in  the  West,  who  without 
+any  records  of  writings,  have  had  the  knowledge  of  thinges 
+past,  welneare  eyght  hundred  yeares  afore.  Likewise  I  leave 
+to  discourse,  that  it  is  the  surest,  scifest,  and  durablest  monu- 
+ment that  men  can  leave  of  their  doings  in  this  world,  to  con- 
+secrate their  names  to  immortalitye.  For  there  is  nether 
+picture,  nor  image  of  marble,  nor  arch  of  triumph,  nor  piller, 
+nor  sumptuous  sepidchre,  that  can  match  the  durablenes  of 
+an  eloquent  history,  furnished  with  the  properties  which  it 
+ought  to  have.  Again,  I  mind  not  to  stand  much  upon  this, 
+that  it  hath  a  certain  troth  in  it,  in  that  it  alwaies  professeth 
+to  spedke  truth,  and  for  that  the  proper  ground  thereof  is  to 
+treate  of  the  greatest  and  highest  thinges  that  are  done  in  the 
+world :  insomuch  that  {to  my  seming)  the  great  projit  thereof 
+
+B  9 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+AMIOT  is  as  Horace  saith,  that  it  is  commonly  called  the  viother  of 
+TO  THE  troth  and  uprightnes,  which  commcndeth  it  so  greatly,  as  it 
+READERS  needeth  not  elswhere  to  seeke  any  authority,  or  ornament  of' 
+dignitie,  but  of  her  very  selfe.  For  it  is  a  cei'taine  ride  and. 
+instruction,  ivhich  by  examples  past,  teacheth  us  to  Judge  of 
+thinges  present,  and  to  ^foresee  things  to  come:  so  as  we  may 
+know  what  to  like  of,  and  what  to  follow,  what  to  mislike,  and 
+what  to  eschew.  It  is  a  picture,  xohich  (as  it  were  in  a  table) 
+setteth  before  our  eies  the  things  worthy  of  rem£mhrance  that 
+have  bene  done  in  olde  time  by  mighty  nations,  noble  kings 
+and  Princes,  wise  governors,  valiant  Captaines,  and  persons 
+renowmed  for  some  notable  qualitie,  representing  unto  us  the 
+maners  of  straunge  nations,  the  lawes  and  customs  of  old 
+time,  the  particular  affaires  qf  men,  their  considtations  and 
+enterprises,  the  meanes  that  they  have  used  to  compasse  them 
+withall,  and  their  demeaning  of  them  selves  when  they  were 
+comen  to  the  highest,  or  throwen  down  to  the  lowest  degre  of 
+state.  So  as  it  is  not  possible  for  any  case  to  rise  either  in 
+peace  or  warre,  in  publike  or  private  affayres,  but  that  the 
+person  which  shall  have  diligently  red,  well  conceived,  and 
+throughly  remembred  histories,  shall  find  matter  in  them 
+xvhereat  to  take  light,  and  counsell  whereby  to  resolve  him 
+selfe  to  take  a  part,  or  to  give  advise  wito  others,  how  to 
+choose  in  doubtfidl  and  daungerous  cases  that,  which  may  be 
+for  their  most  profit,  and  in  time  to  find  out  to  what  poynt 
+the  matter  will  come  fit  be  well  handled :  and  how  to  moderate 
+him  sefe  in  prosperitie,  and  how  to  cheere  up  and  beare  him 
+sefe  in  adversitie.  These  things  it  doth  with  much  greater 
+grace,  efficacie,  and  speede,  than  the  bookes  of  morall  Philo- 
+sophic doe:  forasmuch  as  examples  are  of  more  force  to 
+move  and  instruct,  than  are  the  arguments  and  proqfes  of 
+reason,  or  their  precise  precepts,  bicause  examples  be  the  very 
+formes  of  our  deedes,  and  accompanied  with  all  circumstances. 
+Whereas  reasons  and  demonstrations  are  generall,  and  tend 
+to  the  proof e  of  things,  and  to  the  becding  of  them  into  under- 
+standing: and  examples  tende  to  the  shewing  of  them  in 
+practise  and  execution,  bicause  they  doe  not  onely  declare  what 
+is  to  be  done,  but  also  worke  a  desire  to  doe  it,  as  well  in 
+respect  of  a  certaine  naturall  inclination  which  all  men  have 
+10 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+tojhlloic  i'd-mnples,  as  also  for  the  beautie  of  vertue,  which  is 
+of  such  pOiCer,  that  ^wheresoever  she  is  seene,  she  maketh  her 
+selfe  to  be  loved  and  liked.  Againe,  it  doth  thinges  xvith 
+greater  weight  and  gravitie,  than  the  inventiojis  and  devises 
+of  the  Poets :  bicause  it  helpeth  not  it  selfe  with  any  other 
+thing  than  xvith  the  plaine  truth,  whereas  Poetry  doth  com- 
+monly inrich  things  by  commending  them  above  the  starrs  and 
+their  deserving,  bicause  the  chiefe  intent  thereof  is  to  delight. 
+Moreover,  it  doth  tliinges  zoith  more  grace  and  modestie  than 
+the  civill  leaves  and  ordinances  doe :  bicause  it  is  more  grace 
+for  a  man  to  teach  and  instruct,  than  to  chastise  or  punish. 
+And  yet  for  all  this,  an  historic  also  hath  his  maner  of  pun- 
+ishing the  ivicked,  by  the  reproch  of  everlasting  irtfamie, 
+wherewith  it  dcfaceth  their  remembrance,  zvhich  is  a  great 
+meane  to  xvithdraw  them  from  vice,  who  otherwise  would  be 
+lewdly  and  wickedly  disposed.  Likewise  on  the  contrary 
+parte,  the  immortall  praise  and  glorye  wherezvith  it  rewardeth 
+zvell  doers,  is  a  very  lively  and  sharpe  spurrefor  men  of  noble 
+corage  and  gentlemanlike  nature,  to  cause  them  to  adventure 
+upon  all  mancr  of  noble  ami  great  thinges.  For  bookes  are 
+full  of  examples  of  men  of  high  courage  and  wisedom,  who 
+for  desire  to  continue  the  remembraunce  of  their  name,  by  the 
+sxire  and  certaine  recorde  of  histories,  have  willingly  yeelded 
+their  lyves  to  the  service  of  the  common  zveale,  spent  their 
+goods,  susteyned  infinite  peynes  both  of  body  and  mind  in 
+defence  of  the  oppressed,  in  making  common  buildings,  in 
+stablishing  of  lawes  and  governments,  and  in  the  finding  out 
+ofartes  and  sciences  necessary  Jbr  the  maintenance  and  orna- 
+ment of  mans  life :  for  the  faithfull  registring  whereof,  the 
+thanke  is  due  to  histories.  A  nd  although  true  vertue  seeke  no 
+reward  of  her  commendable  doinges  like  a  hyreling,  but  con- 
+tenteth  her  selfe  zvith  the  conscience  of  her  zvell  doing :  yet 
+notwithstanding  I  am  of  opinion,  that  it  is  good  and  meete  to 
+drazo  men  by  all  meanes  to  good  doing,  and  good  men  ought 
+not  to  be  forbidden  to  hope  for  the  honor  of  their  vertuous 
+deedes,  seeing  that  honor  doth  naturally  accompany  vertue,  as 
+the  shadowe  doth  the  bodye.  For  we  commonly  see,  not  to 
+feele  the  sparkes  of  desire  of  honor,  is  an  i) fallible  signe  of  a 
+base,  vile,  and  cloynish  nature :  and  that  such  as  account  it 
+
+11 
+
+
+AMIOT 
+
+TO  THE 
+
+HEADERS 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+AMIOT  an  unnecessary,  needelesse,  or  unseemely  thing  to  he  praysed, 
+TO  THE  are  likewise  no  doers  of  any  thinges  worthy  of  pray  se,  hut  are 
+READERS  commonly  men  oj  faint  corage,  whose  thoughtes  extende  no 
+further  than  to  their  lives,  whereof  also  they  have  no  further 
+remembraunce,  than  is  hefore  their  eyes.  But  if  the  counsell 
+of  olde  men  he  to  be  greatly  esteemed,  hicause  they  must  needes 
+have  scene  much  hy  reason  of  their  longe  Ife :  and  if  they 
+that  have  travelled  longe  in  straunge  contries,  and  have  had 
+the  managing  of  many  affayres,  and  have  gotten  great  ex- 
+perience of  the  doings  of  this  xoorlde,  are  reputed  for  sage, 
+and  xmrthy  to  have  the  reynes  of  greate  governments  put  into 
+their  handes :  howe  greatly  is  the  reading  of  histories  to  he 
+esteemed,  zvhich  is  able  to  furnishe  us  with  moe  examples  in 
+one  daye,  than  the  whole  course  of  the  longest  Ife  of  any  man 
+is  able  to  doe.  Insomuch  that  they  which  exercise  them  selves 
+in  reading"  as  they  ought  to  doe,  although  they  he  hut  young, 
+become  such  in  respect  of  understanding  of  the  affayres  of  this 
+world,  as  if  they  were  olde  and  grayheaded,  and  of  long 
+experience.  Yea  though  they  never  have  removed  out  of  their 
+houses,  yet  are  they  advertised,  informed,  and  satisfied  of  all 
+things  in  the  world,  as  zvell  as  they  that  have  shortned  their 
+lives  by  innumerable  travells  and  hifinite  daungers,  in  ronning 
+over  the  whole  earth  that  is  inhabited :  whereas  on  the  contrary 
+part,  they  that  are  ignorant  of  the  things  that  were  done  and 
+come  to  passe  before  they  were  borne,  continue  stil  as  children, 
+though  they  be  never  so  aged,  and  are  hut  as  straungers  in 
+their  owne  native  contries.  To  he  short,  it  may  he  truely  sayd, 
+that  the  reading  of  histories  is  the  schole  of  zvisedom,  to  facion 
+mens  understa^iding,  hy  considering  advisedly  the  state  of  the 
+world  that  is  past,  and  by  marking  diligently  by  what  lawes, 
+maners,  and  discipline,  Empires,  kingdoms  and  dominions, 
+have  in  old  time  bene  stahlished,  and  afterward  mainteyned 
+and  increased :  or  contrarizvise  chaunged,  diminished,  and 
+overthrowen.  Also  we  reade,  that  whensoever  the  right  sage 
+and  vertuous  Emperour  of  Rome,  Alexander  Severus,  was  to 
+consult  of  any  matter  of  great  importance,  whether  it  con- 
+cerned warres  or  government:  he  alwayes  called  such  to 
+counsell,  as  were  reported  to  he  well  scene  in  histories.  Not- 
+zvithstanding,  I  know  there  are  that  will  stand  against  me  in 
+12 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+this  poynt,  and  uphold  that  the  reading'  of  histories  can  serve 
+to  small  purpose,  or  none  at  all,  towards  the  getting  of  skill  : 
+hicause  skill  consisteth  in  action,  and  is  ingendred  by  the  very 
+experience  and  practise  of  things,  when  a  man  doth  xvel  marke 
+and  throughly  beare  away  the  things  that  he  hath  scene  tvith 
+his  eyes,  and  found  true  by  proof  e,  according  to  the  saying  of 
+the  aundent  Poet  Afranius  : 
+
+My  name  is  skill,  my  Syre  Experience  hyght, 
+And  memorie  bred  and  brought  me  forth  to  lyght. 
+
+Which  thing  was  ment  likewise  by  the  Philosopher  that 
+sayd,  that  the  hand  is  the  instrimient  of  skill.  By  reason 
+whereof  it  comes  to  passe  (say  they)  that  stich  as  speake  of 
+matters  of  government  and  state,  but  specially  of  matters  of 
+warre  by  the  booke,  speake  but  as  booke  knights,  as  the  Frenche 
+proverbe  termeth  them,  after  the  manner  of  the  Grcecians,  who 
+call  him  a  booke  Pilot,  zohich  hath  not  the  sure  and  certaine 
+knowledge  of  the  things  that  he  speakes  of :  meaning  thereby, 
+that  it  is  not  for  a  man  to  trust  to  the  understanding  which 
+he  hath  gotten  by  reading,  in  things  that  consist  in  the  deede 
+doing,  where  the  hand  is  to  be  set  to  the  xoorke :  no  more  then 
+the  often  hearing  of  men  talke  and  reasoii  of  paynting,  or  the 
+disputing  uppon  colors,  without  taking  of  the  pensill  in  hand, 
+can  stand  a  man  in  any  stead  at  all  to  make  him  a  good 
+paynter.  But  on  the  contrary  piart,  many  have  pi'oved  wise 
+men  and  good  Captaines,  zohich  could  neither  zvrite  nor  reade. 
+Besides  this,  they  alleage  further,  that  in  matters  of  warre, 
+all  things  alter  from  yeare  to  yeare :  by  meanes  whereof  the 
+slights  and  policies  that  are  to  be  learned  out  of  bookes,  will 
+serve  the  turne  no  more  than  mynes  that  are  blozaen  up. 
+According  whereunto  Cambyses  telleth  his  sonyie  Cyrus  in 
+Xenophon,  that  like  as  in  Musicke  the  nezvest  songs  a?'e  com- 
+mmdy  best  liked  of  for  once,  bicause  they  zoere  never  heard 
+afore :  So  in  the  war  res,  those  policies  that  never  were  practised 
+afore,  are  those  that  take  best  successe,  and  commonly  have 
+the  best  effect,  bicause  the  enemies  doe  least  doubt  of  them. 
+Neverthelesse  I  am  not  he  that  will  mainteyne  that  a  wise 
+governor  of  a  common  weale,  or  a  great  Captaine  can  be  made 
+of  such  a  person,  as  hath  never  travelled  out  of  his  study,  and 
+
+13 
+
+
+AMIOT 
+
+TO  THE 
+
+READERS 
+
+
+AMIOT 
+
+TO  THE 
+
+READERS 
+
+
+Three  things 
+necessary  for 
+a  Magistrate, 
+or  Captaine. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+from  his  bookes :  howbeit  that  which  Cicero  writeth  of  Lucius 
+LucuUus^  is  true^  that  when  he  departed  out  of  Rome  as 
+Captaine  gene7-all  and  Lieuetenant  of  the  Romanes,  to  make 
+warre  against  kinge  Mithridates,  he  had  no  experience  at  all 
+of  the  loarres,  and  yet  afterward  he  bestowed  so  great  diligence 
+in  the  reading  of  histories,  and  in  conferring-  uppon  every 
+•poynt  with  the  olde  Captaines  and  men  of  longe  experience, 
+whome  he  caried  with  him,  that  by  the  tyme  of  his  comming 
+into  Asia,  where  he  xvas  in  deede  to  put  his  matters  in  execu- 
+tion, he  was  found  to  be  a  very  sufficient  Captaine,  as  appeared 
+by  his  deedes :  insomuch  that  by  those  wayes,  cleane  contrary 
+to  the  common  oi'der  of  warre,  he  discomfited  two  of  the  most 
+puyssant,  and  greatest  Princes  that  were  at  that  time  in  the 
+East.  For  his  understanding  was  so  guicke,  his  care  so 
+vigilant,  and  his  courage  so  greate,  that  he  needed  no  longe 
+trayning,  nor  grosse  instruction  by  experience.  And  although 
+I  graimt  there  have  beene  diverse  Governors  and  Captaynes, 
+which  by  the  onely  force  of  nature  {furthered  by  longe  con- 
+tinewed  experience)  have  done  goodly  and  greate  exploytes : 
+yet  can  it  not  be  denyed  me,  hit  that  if  they  had  matched  the 
+gftes  of  nature  with  the  knowledge  of  learning,  and  the 
+reading  of  histories,  they  might  have  done  much  greater 
+thinges,  and  they  might  have  becomen  much  more  perfect. 
+For  like  as  in  every  other  cunning  and  skill  wherein  a  man 
+intendeth  to  excell :  so  also  to  become  a  perfect  and  sufficient 
+person  to  governe  in  peace  and  warre,  there  are  three  thinges 
+of  necessitie  I'eguired,  namely,  nature,  art,  and  practise. 
+Nattire  {in  the  case  that  we  treate  of)  must  furnishe  us  with 
+a  good  moother  wit,  with  a  bodie  well  disposed  to  indm-e  all 
+maner  of  travell,  and  with  a  good  will  to  advaunce  our  selves : 
+Art  must  geve  us  judgement  and  kyioxoledge,  gotten  by  the 
+examples  and  wise  discourses  that  we  have  read  and  double 
+read  in  good  histories :  and  practise  will  get  us  readinesse, 
+assurednesse,  and  the  ease  how  to  put  thinges  in  execution. 
+For  though  skill  be  the  ruler  of  doing  the  deede,  yet  it  is  a 
+vertue  of  the  minde  which  teacheth  a  man  the  meane  poynt, 
+betweene  the  two  faultie  extremities  of  too  much  and  too  title, 
+wherein  the  commendation  of  all  doinges  consisteth.  And 
+whosoever  he  is  that  goeth  about  to  attaine  to  it  by  the  onely 
+14 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+triall  of  expeneywe^  and  had  lever  to  learne  it  at  his  oxvne  cost,       AMIOT 
+
+than  at  an  other  mans:  he  may  well  be  of' the  number  of' those      TO  THE 
+
+that   are   touched  by   this   aunc'ient  proverbe,   which   sayth,    READERS 
+
+Experience  is  the  schoolcmistresse  qfj'ooles :  bicause  mans  life  Proverbe. 
+
+is  so  short,  and  experience  is  hard  and  daitngerons,  specially 
+
+in  matters  of  xvarrc,  xchere'in  {according-  to  the  saying  of 
+
+Tamachus  the  Athenian  Captaine)  a  man  can  not  fault  tzcice, 
+
+bicause  the  faidtes  are  so  great,  that  most  commonly  they 
+
+bring  w'lth  them  the  overthrow  of  the  state,  or  the  losse  of  the 
+
+lives  of  those  that  do  them.     Therefore  we  must  not  tary  for 
+
+this  wit  that  is  ivon  by  experience,  xchich  costeth  so  deere,  and 
+
+is  so  long  a  comming,  that  a  man  is  oftt'imes  dead  in  the 
+
+seeking  of  it  before  he  have  attained  it,  so  as  he  had  neede  of 
+
+a  seconde  life  to  imploy  it  in,  bicause  of  the  overlate  comming 
+
+by  it.     But  we  must  make  speede  by  our  diligent  and  con- 
+
+tinuall  reading-  of  histories  both  old  and  new,  tJiat  we  may 
+
+enjoy  this  happinesse  zvhich  the  Poet  speaketh  of: 
+
+A  happie  wight  is  he  that  by  mishappes 
+Of  others,  doth  beware  of  afterclappes. 
+
+By  the  way,  as  concerning  those  that  saye  that  paper  will 
+beare  all  things :  if  there  be  any  that  unworthily  take  upon 
+them  the  name  of  histor'iographers,  and  deface  the  dignity  cyf 
+the  story  for  hatred  or  foivor,  by  mingling  any  untrueth  with 
+it:  that  is  not  the  foiult  of  the  historic,  but  of  the  men  that 
+are  partial!,  xcho  abuse  that  name  iinxoorthily,  to  cover  and 
+cloke  their  oxvne  passions  withall,  xchich  thing  shall  never 
+come  to  passe,  if  the  xcriter  of  the  stor'ie  have  the  properties 
+that  are  necessarily  required  in  a  stor'ie  xoriter,  as  these :  That 
+he  set  aside  all  qffect'wn,  be  voyde  of  envy,  hatred  and  flattery : 
+that  he  be  a  man  experienced  in  the  affa'ires  of  the  xcorld,  of 
+good  utterance,  and  good  judgement  to  discerne  xchat  is  to  be 
+sayd,  and  what  to  be  left  unsay d,  and  xchat  xcoidd  do  more 
+harme  to  have  it  declared,  than  do  good  to  have  it  7-eproved  or 
+condemned :  forasmuch  as  his  chiefe  drift  ought  to  be  to  serve 
+the  common  weale,  and  that  he  is  but  as  a  register  to  set  downe 
+the  judgements  and  definitive  sentences  of  Gods  Court,  whereof 
+some  are  geven  according  to  the  oj'd'inar'ic  course  and  capacitie 
+of  our  weake  naturall  reason,  and  other  some  goe  according  to 
+
+15 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+
+AMIOT  Gods  infinite  power  and  incomprehensible  wisedom,  above  and 
+TO  THE  against  all  discourse  of  mans  understanding,  who  being  unable 
+READERS  to  reach  to  the  bottome  of  his  judgements,  and  to  Jiiide  out  the 
+first  motions  and  groundes  thereof,  do  impute  the  cause  of 
+them  to  a  cei-taine  fortune,  which  is  nought  else  but  a  fained 
+device  of  mans  xvit,  dazeled  at  the  beholding  of  such  bright- 
+nesses and  confounded  at  the  gaging  of  so  bottomlesse  a  deepe, 
+howbeit  nothing  commeth  to  passe  nor  is  done  withoict  the 
+leave  of  him  that  is  the  verie  right  and  tru£th  it  selfe,  with 
+whom  nothing  is  past  or  to  come,  and  who  hnoweth  and  under- 
+standeth  the  very  origiyiall  causes  of  all  necessitie.  The  con- 
+sideration whereof  teacheth  men  to  humble  them  selves  under  his 
+mightie  hande  by  acTinoxvledging  that  there  is  one  first  cause 
+which  ovemdeth  nature,  whereof  it  commeth,  that  neither 
+hardinesse  is  alwaies  happie,  nor  wisedom  alwaies  sure  of  good 
+successe.  These  so  notable  commodities  are  every  where  accom- 
+panied with  singular  delight,  which  proceedeth  chiefly  of 
+diversitie  and  novelty  wherein  our  nature  delighteth  and  is 
+greatly  desiroiis  of:  bicause  ive  having  an  earnest  inclination 
+towards  our  best  prosperity  and  advauncement,  it  goeth  on 
+still,  seeking  it  in  every  thing  which  it  taJceth  to  be  goodly, 
+or  good  in  this  woi'ld.  But  forasmuch  as  it  findeth  not  where- 
+%  with  to  content  it  selfe  under  the  cope  of  heaven,  it  is  soone 
+weary  of  the  things  that  it  had  earnestly  desired  aff^ore,  and 
+so  goeth  on  wandring  in  the  unsJcilfulnes  of  her  likings 
+wherqf  site  never  ceasseth  to  make  a  continuall  chaunging 
+untill  she  have  fully  satisfied  her  desires,  by  attaining  to  the 
+last  end,  which  is  to  be  knit  to  her  chief e  felicity,  whei'e  is  the 
+full  perfection  of  cdl  goodlines  and  goodnes.  This  liking  of 
+varietie  can  not  be  better  releeved,  than  by  that  zvhich  is  the 
+finder  out  and  the  preserver  of  time,  the  father  of  all  noveltie, 
+and  messenger  of  antiguitie.  For  if  we  Jinde  a  certaine 
+singidar  pleasure,  in  hearkening  to  such  as  be  returned  from 
+some  long  voyage,  and  doe  report  things  which  they  have 
+scene  in  straunge  contries,  as  the  maners  qf  people,  the  natures 
+of  places,  and  the  fashions  qf  lives,  differing  from  ours :  and 
+(f  we  be  sometime  so  ravished  zvith  delight  and  pleasure  at 
+the  hearing  of  the  talke  of  some  raise,  discreete,  and  well 
+spoken  old  man,  from  whose  mouth  there  Jloweth  a  streame  qf 
+16 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+speech  szveeter  than  honnie,  in  rehearsing  the  adventures  which 
+he  hath  had  in  his  greene  and  youthfull  yeares,  the  paines  that 
+he  hath  indured,  and  the  perills  that  he  hath  overpassed^  so  as 
+zee  perceive  not  how  the  time  goeth  away :  how  much  more 
+(night  we  he  ravished  with  delight  and  wondring,  to  behold 
+the  state  of'  manlcind,  and  the  tnie  successe  of'  things,  which 
+antiguitie  hath  and  doth  bring  forth  Jrom  the  heginn'ing  of 
+the  world,  as  the  setting  up  of  Empires,  the  overthrow  of 
+Monarchies,  the  r'ls'ing  and  fall'ing  of  Kingdoms,  and  all 
+things  else  worthie  adviiration,  and  the  same  lively  set  forth 
+in  the  fair  e,  rich,  and  true  table  of  eloqtience?  And  that  so 
+lively,  as  in  the  very  reading  of  them  zee  feele  our  mindes  to 
+be  so  touched  by  them,  not  as  though  the  thinges  were  alreadie 
+done  and  past,  but  as  though  they  zoere  even  then  presently  in 
+doing,  and  zcefinde  our  selves  caried  azvay  zcith  gladnesse  and 
+grief'e  thrmigh  feare  or  hope,  well  neere  as  though  we  were 
+then  at  the  do'ing  of  them  :  whereas  notwithstand'ing  we  be  not 
+in  any  paine  or  daicnger,  bid  only  conceive  in  mir  mindes  the 
+adversities  that  other  folkes  have  indured,  our  selves  sitting 
+safe  with  our  contentcd'ion  and  ease,  according  to  these  verses 
+of  the  Poet  Lucretiiis  : 
+
+It  is  a  pleasure  for  to  sit  at  ease 
+
+Upon  the  land,  and  safely  thence  to  see 
+
+How  other  folkes  are  tossed  on  the  seaes, 
+
+That  with  the  hlustring  windes  turmoyled  he. 
+
+Not  that  the  sight  of  others  miseries 
+
+Doth  any  way  the  honest  hart  delight, 
+
+But  for  bicause  it  liketh  well  our  eyes. 
+
+To  see  harmes  free  that  on  our  selves  might  light. 
+
+/  Also  it  is  scene  that  the  reading  of  histories  doth  so  holde 
+^  and  allure  good  wits,  that  divers  t'lmes  it  not  only  maJceth 
+them  to  forget  all  other  pleasures,  bid  also  serveth  very  jittely 
+to  turne  azoay  their  griefes,  and  somtimes  also  to  i-emed'ie  their 
+diseases.  As  for  example,  zee  find  it  zoritten  of  Alphonsus 
+King  of  Naples,  that  Prince  so  greatly  renowmed  in  Chronicles 
+for  his  zoisedom  and  goodnesse,  that  being  sore  sicJce  in  the 
+citie  of  Capia,  when  his  Phisitions  had  spent  all  the  cunning 
+that  they  had  to  recover  him  his  health,  and  he  saw  that 
+nothing-  prevailed:  he  determined  zv'ith  Mm  selfe  to  take  no 
+C  17 
+
+
+AMIOT 
+
+TO  THE 
+
+READERS 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+AMIOT      mo  medicines,  hutjbr  his  recreacion  caused  the  storie  of  Quintus 
+TO  THE      Curtius,  concernirig  the  deedes  of  Alexander  the  great,  to  he 
+READERS    red  before  him :  at  the  hearing  whereof  he  tooke  so  wonderjull 
+pleasure,  that  nature  gathered  strength  hy  it,  and  overcame 
+the  waywardnes  of  his  disease.      Whereicpon  having  soone 
+recovered  his  helth,  he  discharged  his  Phisitions  with  such 
+words  as  these :  Feast  me  no  more  with  your  Hippocrates  and 
+Galene,  sith  they  can  no  skill  to  helpe  me  to  recover  my  helth : 
+hut  well  fare  Quintus  Curtius  that  coidd  so  good  skill  to  helpe 
+me  to  recover  my  helth.     Now  f  the  reading  and  knowledge 
+of  histories  he  deUghtfidl  and  profitable  to  all  other  kind  of 
+folke :  I  say  it  is  much  more  for  great  Princes  and  Kings, 
+bicause  they  have  to  do  with  charges  of  greatest  weight  aiul 
+difficultie,  to  be  best  stored  zoith  gftes  and  knowledge  for  the 
+discharge  of  their  dueties :  seeing  the  ground  of  stories  is,  to 
+treate  of  all  maner  of  high  matters  of  state,  as  war-res,  battells, 
+cities,  contries,  treaties  of  peace  and  alliances,  and  therefore  it 
+seemeth  more  fit  for  them,  than  for  any  other  kiride  of  degrees 
+of  men :  bicause  they  being  bred  and  brought  up  tenderly,  and 
+at  their  ease,  by  reasoji  of  the  great  regard  arid  care  that  is 
+had  cf  their  persons,  (as  meete  is  for  so  great  states  to  have) 
+they  take  not  so  great  paines  in  their  youth  for  the  learning 
+of  things  as  behoveth  those  to  take  lohich  will  learne  the  noble 
+aimcient  languages,  and  the  pahfull  doctrine  comprehended 
+in  Philosophic.     Againe,  when  they  come  to  mans  state,  their 
+charge  calleth  them  to  deale  in  great  affaires,  so  as  there 
+remaineth  no  exercise  cf  wit  more  coiivenient  for  them,  than 
+the  reading  of  histories  in  their  ozone  tunge,  which  without 
+paine  is  able  to  teache  them  even  zoith  great  pleasure  and  ease, 
+xohatsoever  the  painfull  zoorkes  of  the  Philosophers  concerning 
+the  government  of  common  weales  can  shewe  them,  to  make 
+tJiem  skilful  in  the  well  riding  and  governing  of  the  people 
+and  contries  that  God  hath  put  under  their  subjection.     But 
+the  worst  is,  that  they  ever  {or  for  the  most  part)  have  such 
+maner  of  persons  about  them  as  seeke  nothing  els  but  to  please 
+them  by  all  the  wayes  they  can,  and  there  are  very  fezo  that 
+dare  tell  them  the  truth  freely  in  all  things :  whereas  on  the 
+contrary  part,  an  history  fiattereth  them  not,  but  layeth  open 
+before  their  eyes  the  faults  and  vices  of  mch  as  were  like  them 
+18 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+
+hi  greatnesse  of  degree.  And  therefore  Demetrius  Phalereus 
+{a  man  renoiomed  asxvelljbr  his  skill  in  the  good  government 
+of  a  common  loeale,  as  for  his  excellent  knowledge  otherwise) 
+coicnselled  Ptolomy,  first  king  of  j^gypt  after  the  death  of 
+Alexander  the  great^  that  he  should  often  and  diligently  reade 
+the  bookes  that  treated  of  the  government  qfkingdomes^  bicause 
+{sayd  he)  thou  shall  Jinde  many  things  there,  which  thy  ser- 
+vaunts  and  familiar  friendes  dare  not  tell  thee.  Moreover, 
+this  is  another  thinge,  that  suche  great  personages  can  not 
+easily  travell  out  of  the  bounds  of  their  dominions,  to  goe 
+view  straunge  contries  as  private  persons  doe :  bicause  the 
+jelousie  of  their  estate,  and  the  regarde  of  their  dignitie, 
+7-equires  that  they  should  never  be  in  place  where  another  man 
+might  commaund  them.  And  often  times  for  xvant  of  having 
+scene  the  contries,  and  knowen  the  people  and  Princes  that  are 
+their  neighbours,  they  have  adventured  uppon  attempts  without 
+good  ground:  to  avoyde  the  which,  the  instruction  they  may 
+have  by  the  reading  of  histories,  is  one  of  the  easiest  and  fittest 
+remedies  that  can  be  found.  And  though  there  were  none 
+otlier  cause  then  onely  this  last,  surely  it  ought  to  induce 
+Princes  to  the  often  and  diligent  reading  of  histories,  wherein 
+are  written  the  heroicall  deedes  of  wise  and  valiant  men,  speci- 
+ally of  kings  that  have  bene  before  them,  the  considering 
+xvliereqf  may  cause  them  to  be  desirous  to  become  like  them, 
+specially  which  were  of  stately  and  iwble  courage :  bicause  the 
+seedes  of  Princely  vertues  that  are  bred  zvith  them  selves,  doe 
+tlien  quicken  them  up  with  an  emulacion  towards  those  that 
+have  beiw  or  are  equall  in  degree  with  them,  aswell  in  respect 
+qfnoblenes  of  bloud,  as  of  greatnes  of  state,  so  as  tlwy  be  loth 
+to  give  place  to  any  person,  and  much  lesse  can  find  in  their 
+harts  to  be  outgone  in  glory  of  vertuous  doinges.  Whereof 
+innumerable  examples  might  be  allcaged,  if  the  thing  were  not 
+so  wel  knowen  of  it  self  that  it  were  much  more  against  reason 
+to  doubt  of  it,  than  needefidl  to  prove  it.  Therefore  a  man 
+may  truely  conclude,  that  an  historic  is  the  scholemistresse  of 
+Princes,  at  zohose  hand  they  may  without  payne,  in  zvay  of 
+pastyme,  and  with  singular  pleasure  learne  the  most  part  oj 
+the  things  that  belonge  to  their  office.  Now,  mcording  to  the 
+diversitie  of  the  matter  that  it  treat cth  of,  or  the  order  and 
+
+19 
+
+
+AMIOT 
+
+TO  THE 
+
+READERS 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+AMIOT  manner  of  writing  that  it  tiseth,  it  hath  sondry  names  given 
+TO  THE  unto  it :  But  yet  among  the  rest  there  are  two  chiefe  kinds. 
+READERS  The  one  which  setteth  downe  mens  doings  arid  adventures  at 
+length,  is  called  by  the  common  name  of  an  historic :  the  other 
+which  declareth  their  natures,  sayings,  and  maners,  is  properly 
+named  their  lives.  And  altlwugh  the  ground  of  them  both 
+doe  cloze  very  neare  in  one,  yet  doth  the  one  respect  more  the 
+things,  and  the  otJier  the  persons:  the  one  is  more  common, 
+and  the  other  more  private :  the  one  concerneth  more  the 
+things  that  are  zvithout  the  man,  and  the  other  the  things  thai 
+proceede  from  within :  tlie  one  the  events,  the  other  the  con- 
+sultacions :  betwene  the  zvhich  there  is  oftentymes  great  oddes, 
+according  to  this  aunswer  of  the  Persian  Siramnes,  to  such  as 
+marvelled  how  it  came  to  passe,  that  his  devises  being  so 
+politike  had  so  unhappy  successe :  It  is  {quod  he)  bicause  my 
+devises  are  wholly  from  my  own  ijivention,  but  the  effects  of 
+them  are  in  the  disposition  of  fortune  and  the  king.  And 
+surely  amonge  all  those  that  ever  have  taken  uppon  them  to 
+xorite  the  lives  of  famous  men,  the  chiefe  prerogative,  by  the 
+judgeme7it  of  such  as  are  clearest  sighted,  is  justly  given  to 
+the  Greeke  Philosopher  Plutarke,  borne  in  the  citie  of  Choeronea 
+in  the  contry  of  Bceotia,  a  noble  man,  perfect  in  all  rare  know- 
+ledge, as  his  workes  may  well  put  men  out  of  doubt,  if  they 
+lyst  to  read  tliem  through,  wlio  all  his  life  long  even  to  his 
+old  age,  had  to  deale  in  affayres  of  the  common  zveale,  as  he 
+him  selfe  witnesseth  in  divers  places,  specially  in  the  treatise 
+which  he  intitled,  Whether  an  olde  man  ought  to  meddle 
+with  the  government  of  a  common  weale  or  not :  and  who 
+had  the  hap  and  Jionor  to  be  schoolemaster  to  the  Emprour 
+Trajan,  as  is  commonly  beleeved,  and  as  is  expressely  pretended 
+by  a  certaitie  Epistle  set  before  the  Latin  translation  of  his 
+matter's  of  state,  zvhich  (to  say  the  truth)  seemeth  in  my  judge- 
+ment to  be  somewhat  suspicious,  bicause  I  find  it  not  among 
+his  workes  in  Greeke,  besides  that  it  speaketh  as  though  the 
+booke  zvere  dedicated  to  Trajan,  zvhich  thinge  is  manifestly 
+disproved  by  the  beginning  of  the  booke,  and  by  divers  other 
+reasons.  Yet  notzvithstanding,  bicause  me  thinkes  it  is  sagely 
+and  gravely  written,  and  well  beseeming  him :  I  have  set  it 
+downe  here  in  this  place.  '  Plutarke  unto  Trajan  sendeth 
+20 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+greeting".     I  hww  icell  that  the  modestie  of  your  nature  zvas 
+not  desirous  of  Sovereintie^  though  you  have  ahcayes  inde- 
+vored  to  deserve  it  by  your  honorable  conversation :  by  reason 
+•wliereqf  you  have  bene  thought  so  much  the  worthier  of  it, 
+as  you  have  bene  ^faunde  the  Jurther  erf  from  all  am.bitio7i. 
+And  there/ore  I  do  now  rejoice  in  yo\ir  vertue  and  my  for- 
+tune, if  it  be  so  great  as  to  cause  you  to  administer  that 
+thing  icith  justice,  xvhich  you  have  obtained  by  desert.     For 
+otherwise  I  am  sure  you  have  put  your  selfe  in  hazard  of 
+great  daungers,  and  vie  in  perill  of  slaunderous  tongues, 
+bicause  Rome  can  not  cnvay  with  a  zcicked  Emperour,  and  the 
+common  voyce  of  the  people  is  alwaies  wont  to  cast  the  faultes 
+of  the  schollers  in  the  teeth  of  their  schoolemaisters :  as  for 
+example :  Seneca  is  railed  upon  by  slaunderous  tonges,  for  the 
+faultes  of  his  scholler  Nero  :  the  scapes  of  Quintilians  young 
+sdwllers  are  impided  to  Quintilian  him  selfe :  and  Socrates 
+is  blamed,  for  being  too  myld  to  his  hearers.     But  as  for 
+you,  thei'e  is  hope  you  shall  doe  all  things  well  enough,  so 
+you  keepe  you  as  you  are.     If  you  first  set  your  selfe  in 
+order,  and  tlien  dispose  all  other  things  according  to  vertue, 
+all  things  shall  Jail  out  according  to  your  desire.     I  have  set 
+you  downe  the  meanes  in  icriting,  which  you  must  observe  for 
+the  well  governing  of  your  common  weale,  and  have  shelved 
+yo\L  of  how  great  force  your  behaviour  may  be  in  that  behalfe. 
+If  you  thinke  good  to  follow  those  thinges,  you  have  Plutarke 
+for  the  directer  and  guider  of  your  Ife:  f  not,  I  protest 
+unto  you  by  this  Epistle,  that  your  falling  into  daunger  to 
+tJie  overthrow  of  the  Empire,  is  not  by  tlie  doctrine  of  Plutarke.'' 
+This  Epistle  witnesseth  plainly  that  lie  was  tlie  schoolemaister 
+of  Trajan,  which  thing  seemeth  to  be  avowed  by  this  writing 
+of  Suidas :  Plutarke  being  borne  in  the  citie  of  Chccronea  in 
+Boeotia,  was  in  the  time  of  the  Emperour  Trajan,  and  somichat 
+affore.     But  Trajan  honored  him  icith  the  dignitie  of  Consul- 
+ship, and  commaunded  the  officers  and  Magistrates  that  were 
+throughout  all  the  contrie  of  Illyria,  that  they  should  not  do 
+any  thing  zoithout  his  counsell  and  aidhoritie.    So  doth  Suidas 
+write  of  him.     And  I  am  of  opinion,  that  Trcjan  being  so 
+wise  an  Emperour,  would  never  liave  done  him  so  great  honor, 
+if  he  had  not  thought  him  selfe  greatly  beholding  to  him  for 
+
+21 
+
+
+AMIOT 
+
+TO  THE 
+
+READERS 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+AMIOT  some  speciall  cause.  But  the  thing  that  maketh  me  most  to  beleve 
+TO  THE  it  true,  is,  that  the  same  goodnesse  ayid  Justice  appeared  to  be 
+READERS  naturally  imprinted  in  most  of  Trajans  sayings  and  doings, 
+whereof  the  paterne  and  mozvld  (as  a  man  might  terme  it)  is 
+cast  and  set  downe  in  Plutarkes  Moi-alls,  so  as  men  may  per- 
+ceive expressely,  that  the  one  coxdd  well  skill  to  performe  rightly, 
+that  which  the  other  had  taught  wisely.  For  Dion  writeth, 
+that  among  other  honors  which  the  Senate  of  Rome  gave  hy 
+decree  unto  Trajan,  they  gave  him  the  title  of  the  Good 
+Emperour.  And  Eutropius  reporteth  that  even  unto  his  time, 
+when  a  new  Emperour  came  to  he  received  of  the  Senate, 
+among  the  cries  of  good  hansell,  and  the  wishes  of  good  lucke 
+that  were  made  unto  him,  one  was:  Happier  be  thou  than 
+Augustus,  and  better  than  Trajan.  Howsoever  the  case 
+stoode,  it  is  very  certaine  that  Plutarke  dedicated  the  collec- 
+tion of  his  Apothegmes  unto  him.  But  when  he  had  lived  a 
+long  time  at  Rome,  and  was  come  home  againe  to  his  ozone 
+house,  he  Jell  to  writing  of  this  excellent  worke  of  Lives,  which 
+he  calleth  Parallelon,  as  much  to  say,  as  a  cupling  or  matching 
+togetJier,  bicause  he  matcheth  a  Grecian  with  a  Romane,  setting 
+doivne  their  lives  ech  after  other,  and  comparing  them  together, 
+as  hejbunde  any  likenesse  of  nature,  condicions,  or  adventw'es 
+betwext  them,  and  examining  what  the  one  of  them  had  better 
+or  worser,  greater  or  lesser  than  the  other :  which  things  he 
+doth  with  so  goodly  and  grave  discourse  every  where,  taken 
+out  of  the  deepest  and  most  hidden  secrets  of  morall  and 
+naturall  Philosophic,  zoith  so  sage  precepts  and  frutefull 
+instructions,  with  so  effectuall  commendation  of  vertue,  and 
+detestation  of  vice,  with  so  many  goodly  allegacions  of  other 
+authors,  with  so  many  Jit  comparisons,  and  zoith  so  many  high 
+inventions :  that  the  booke  may  better  be  called  by  the  name  of 
+tlie  Treasorie  of  all  rare  and  perfect  learning,  than  by  any 
+other  name.  Also  it  is  sayd,  that  Thcodorus  Gaza,  a  Grecian 
+of  singidar  learning,  and  a  worthie  of  the  aiincient  Greece, 
+being  asked  on  a  time  by  his  familiar  frendes  {which  saw  him 
+so  earnestly  given  to  his  studie,  that  lie  forgate  all  other 
+things)  zohat  author  he  had  leverest  to  choose,  if  he  were  at 
+that  poynt  that  he  must  needes  choose  some  one  to  holde  him  to 
+alone,  did  aunswere  that  he  would  choose  Plutarke:  bicause 
+22 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+that  if  they  were  all  put  together,  there  was  no  one  both  so 
+profitable,  and  so  plea^aunt  to  read,  as  he.  Sosius  Senecio  to 
+xohom  he  dedicateth  his  xoorke,  zcas  a  Senator  of  Home,  as 
+witnesseth  Dion,  who  writeth  that  the  three  persons  zohom 
+Trajan  most  loved  and  hoyiored,  were  Sosins,  Parma,  and 
+Celsiis,  insomuch  that  he  caused  images  of  them  to  be  set  up. 
+True  it  is  that  he  tvrote  the  lives  of'  many  other  men,  which 
+the  spitefulnes  of  time  hath  bereft  us  of,  among  which  he  him- 
+selfe  maketh  mention  of  the  lives  of  Scipio  Africanus,  and 
+Metellus  Numidicus.  And  I  have  red  a  litle  Epistle  of  a 
+Sonne  of  his,  whose  name  is  not  expressed,  copied  out  of  an 
+olde  copie  in  the  LiHrarie  of  S.  Marke  in  Venice,  wherein  he 
+writeth  to  afrende  of  his,  a  register  of  all  the  bookes  that  his 
+father  made :  and  there  among  the  cupples  of  lives  he  setteth 
+downe  the  lives  of  Scipio  and  Epaminondas,  and  lastly  the 
+lives  of  Augustus  Cccsar,  of  Tiberius,  of  Caligula,  of  Claudius, 
+of  Nero,  of  Galba,  of  Vitellius,  and  of  Otho.  But  having 
+used  all  the  diligence  that  I  could  in  serching  the  chiefe 
+Libraries  of  Venice,  and  Rome,  I  could  never  find  them  out. 
+Onely  I  drew  out  certaine  diversities  of  readinges,  and  many 
+corrections  by  conferring  the  old  xmitten  copies  with  the  printed 
+bookes:  which  have  stoode  me  in  great  stead  to  the  under- 
+standing of  many  hard  places :  and  there  are  a  great  number 
+of  them  which  I  have  restored  by  conjecture,  by  the  judgement 
+and  lielpe  of  such  men  of  this  age,  as  are  of  greatest  know- 
+ledge in  humane  learning.  Yet  for  all  this,  there  remaine 
+some  places  unamended,  hoxcbeit  very  Jewe,  bicause  some  lines 
+were  wanting  in  the  originall  copies,  wliereqf  (to  my  seeming) 
+it  was  better  Jbr  vie  to  witnesse  the  want  by  marking  it  zoith 
+some  starre :  than  to  gesse  at  it  with  all  adventure,  or  to  adde 
+any  thing  to  it.  Now  finally,  if  I  have  overshot  my  selfe  in 
+any  thing,  as  it  is  verie  easie  to  do  in  so  hard  arid  long  a 
+zcorke,  specially  to  a  man  of  so  small  abilitie  as  I  am :  I 
+beseeche  the  Readers  to  wou£hsafe  for  my  discharge,  to  admit 
+the  excuse  which  the  Poet  Horace  giveth  me,  where  he  sayth  : 
+
+A  man  may  well  be  overseene 
+
+In  workes  that  long  and  tedious  bene. 
+
+Specially  sith  that  of  so  many  good  men,  and  men  of  skill 
+
+23 
+
+
+AMIOT 
+
+TO  THE 
+
+READERS 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+AMIOT       as  have  heretofore  set  hand  to  the  translating  of  it,  there  was 
+
+TO  THE      Tiever  yet  any  one  found  that  went  through  with  it  in  any 
+
+READERS    language,  at  least  zoise  tliat  I  have  seene  or  heard  of:  and 
+
+that  such  as  have  enterprised  to  translate  it,  specially  into 
+
+Latin,  have  evidently  witnessed  the  hardnesse  thereof,  as  they 
+
+may  easely  perceive  which  list  to  coivferre  their  translations 
+
+with  mine.     Neverthelesse  if  it  so  fortune  that  men  find  not 
+
+the  speech  of  this  translation  so  fioioing,  as  they  have  found 
+
+some  other  of  mine,  that  are  abroad  in  mens  hands :  I  beseech 
+
+the  readers  to  consider,  that  the  office  of  a  fit  translater,  con- 
+
+sisteth  not  onely  in  the  Jaithfull  expressing  of  his  authors 
+
+meaning,  but  also  in  a  certaine  resembling  and  shadowing  out 
+
+of  the  forme  of  his  style  and  the  maner  of  his  speaking:  unlesse 
+
+he  zvill  commit  the  errour  of  some  painters,  who  having  taken 
+
+upon  them  to  draxo  a  man  lively,  do  paint  him  long  where  he 
+
+shoidd  be  shoi't,  and  grosse  lohere  he  should  be  slender,  and  yet 
+
+set  out  the  resemblance  of  his  countenance  naturally.    For  Jww 
+
+harsh  or  rude  soever  my  speech  be,  yet  am  I  sure  that  my 
+
+translation  will  be  much  easier  to  my  contriemen,  than  the 
+
+Greeke  copie  is,  even  to  such  as  are  best  practised  in  the  Greeke 
+
+tonge,  by  reason  of  Plutarkes  peculiar  inaner  of  inditing, 
+
+which  is  rather  sharpe,  learned,  and  short,  than  plaine,  polished, 
+
+and  easie.     At  the  hardest,  although  I  have  not  compassed 
+
+my  matters  so  happily  as  ye  coulde  have  xcished  and  desired: 
+
+yet  do  I  hope  that  your  Loidships  in  reading  it  will  hold  the 
+
+parties  good  will  excused,  which  hath  taken  such  paines 
+
+in  doing  of  it  to  profit  you.     And  if  my  labor  be  so 
+
+happie,  as  to  content  you :  God  be  praised  for  it, 
+
+which  hath  given  me  the  grace  to  finish  it. 
+
+
+24 
+
+
+THE  TABLE    OF  THE  NOBLE 
+GRECIANS  AND  ROMANES 
+
+compared  by  PLUTARKE  of  CHJERONEA 
+
+
+VOLUME   I 
+
+
+THESEUS      . 
+ROMULUS     . 
+LYCURGUS  . 
+NUMA  POMPILIUS 
+SOLON  . 
+PUBLICOLA . 
+THEMISTOCLES . 
+FURIUS  CAMILLUS 
+
+
+PAGE      29) 
+
+68) 
+
+
+compared  page  112 
+
+
+!  compared 
+
+
+199 
+
+
+207 
+249) 
+282 
+320 
+
+
+y  compared     „     277 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+THE  LIVES  OF  THE  NOBLE 
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+compared  together  by  that  grave  learned 
+Philosopher  and  Historiographer 
+
+PLUTARCHE  OF  CHiERONEA 
+
+
+THE  LIFE  OF  THESEUS 
+
+
+IKE  as  historiographers  describing  the  world 
+
+(frende  Sossius  Senecio)  doe  of  purpose  Sossius  Sene- 
+referre  to  the  uttermost  partes  of  their  cio  a  Senator 
+mappes  the  farre  distant  regions  whereof  ^^  ^o^^- 
+they  be  ignoraunt,  with  this  note  :  these 
+contries  are  by  meanes  of  sandes  and 
+drowthes  unnavigable,  rude,  full  of  veni- 
+mous  beastes,  Scythian  ise,  and  frosen 
+seas.  Even  so  may  I  (which  in  comparinge  noble  mens  lives 
+have  already  gone  so  farre  into  antiquitie,  as  the  true  and 
+certaine  historic  could  lead  me)  of  the  rest,  being  thinges 
+past  all  proofe  or  chalenge,  very  well  say :  that  beyonde  this 
+time  all  is  full  of  suspicion  and  dout,  being  delivered  us  by 
+Poets  and  Tragedy  makers,  sometimes  without  trueth  and 
+likelihoode,  and  alwayes  without  certainty.  Howbeit,  having 
+heretofore  set  foorth  the  lives  of  Lycurgus  (which  established 
+the  lawes  of  the  Lacedaemonians)  and  of  king  Numa  Pom- 
+pilius :  me  thought  I  might  go  a  litle  further  to  the  life  of 
+Romulus,  sence  I  was  come  so  nere  him.  But  considering 
+my  selfe  as  the  Poet  ^Eschilus  did  : 
+
+What  champion  may  with  such  a  man  compare  ? 
+
+or  who  (thinke  I)  shalbe  against  him  set  ? 
+Who  is  so  bold  ?  or  who  is  he  that  dare 
+
+defend  his  force^  in  such  encounter  met  ? 
+
+In  the  end  I  resolved  to  match  him  which  did  set  up  the 
+noble  and  famous  city  of  Athens,  with  him  which  founded 
+the  glorious  and  invincible  city  of  Rome.  Wherein  I  would 
+wishe  that  the  inventions  of  Poets,  and  the  traditions  of 
+fabulous  antiquitie,  would  suffer  them  selves  to  be  purged 
+
+29 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+THESEUS  and  reduced  to  the  forme  of  a  true  and  historicall  reporte  : 
+
+but  when  they  square  too  much  from  likelyhode,  and  can  not 
+
+be  made  credible,  the  readers  will  of  curtesie  take  in  good 
+
+parte  that,  which  I  could  with  most  probability  wryte  of 
+
+Theseus  and     such  antiquities.     Now  surely  me  thinkes,  that  Theseus  in 
+
+Romulus  very  many  thinges  was  much  like  unto  Romulus.      For  being 
+
+^^"  both  begotten  by  stealth,  and  out  of  lawful  matrimony  : 
+
+both  were  reputed  to  be  borne  of  the  seede  of  the  goddes. 
+
+Both  valiant  were^  as  all  the  world  doth  know. 
+
+Both  joyned  valiancy  with  government.     The  one  of  them 
+
+built  Rome,  and  the  other,  by  gathering  into  one  dispersed 
+
+people,  erected  the  citie  of  Athens  :  two  of  the  most  noble 
+
+cities  of  the  worlde.     The  one  and  the  other  were  ravishers 
+
+of  women  :  and  neither  thone  nor  thother  coulde  avoyde  the 
+
+mischiefe  of  quarrell  and  contention  with  their  frendes,  nor 
+
+the  reproch  of  staining  them  selves  with  the  blood  of  their 
+
+nearest  kinsemen.      Moreover,  they  say  that  both  the  one 
+
+and  the  other  in  the  end  did  get  the  hate  and  ill  will  of 
+
+their  citizens  :  at  the  least  if  we  will  beleve  that  reporte  of 
+
+The  linage  of  Theseus,  which  carieth  greatest  show  of  trueth.     Theseus  of 
+
+Theseus.  his  fathers  side,  was  descended  of  the  right  linage  of  Erictheus 
+
+the  great,  and  of  the  first  inhabitants  which  occupied  the 
+
+contrie  of  Attica,  the  which  since  were  called  Autocthones, 
+
+as  much  to  say,  as  borne  of  them  selves.     For  there  is  no 
+
+memorie,  or  other  mention  made,  that  they  came  out  of  any 
+
+other  contry  then  that.     And  of  his  mothers  side  he  came  of 
+
+Pelops,    king  Pelops,  who  was  in  his  time  the  mightiest  king  of  all  the 
+
+ofPelopon-      contrie  of  Peloponnesus,  not  so  much  for  his  goodes  and 
+
+nesus.  richesse,  as  for  the  number  of  children  which  he  had.     For 
+
+his  daughters  which  were  many  in  number,  he  bestowed  on 
+
+the  greatest  Lordes  of  all  the  contrie  :  his  sonnes  also,  which 
+
+likewise  were  many,  he  dispersed  into  diverse  cities  and  free 
+
+townes,  findinge  meanes  to  make  them  governors  and  heades 
+
+Pitheus  the      of  the  same.    Pitheus,  grandfather  to  Theseus  on  the  mothers 
+
+grandfather     side,  was  one  of  his  sonnes,  and  founded  the  litle  city  of 
+
+of  Theseus.      TrcEzen,  and  was  reputed  to  be  one  of  the  wisest  men  of  his 
+
+time.     But  the  knowledge  and  wisedom,  which  onely  caried 
+
+estimacion  at  that  time,    consisted    altogether    in    grave 
+
+30 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+sentences,  and  morall  sayinges.     As  those  are  which  wanne  THESEUS 
+the  Poet  Hesiodus  such  fame  for  his  booke  intituled,  The  The  wisedom 
+workes  and  dayes  :  in  the  which  is  read  even  at  this  present,  ^^  Pitheus. 
+this  goodly  sentence,  which  they  father  upon  Pitheus  : 
+
+Thou  shalt  performe,  thy  promise  and  thy  pay  : 
+to  hyred  merij  and  that  without  delay. 
+
+And  this  doth  Aristotle  the  Philosopher  himselfe  testifie  : 
+and  the  Poet  Euripides  also,  calling  Hippolytus  the  scholler 
+of  the  holy  Pitheus,  doth  sufficiently  declare  of  what  estima- 
+cion  he  was.    But  iEgeus  desiring  (as  they  say)  to  know  how  Jilgeus  the 
+he  might  have  children,  went  unto  the  city  of  Delphes  to  father  of 
+the  oracle  of  Apollo  :  where  by  Apolloes  Nunne  that  notable     ^eseus. 
+prophecy  was  geven  him  for  an  aunswer.    The  which  did  for- 
+bid him  to  touch  or  know  any  woman,  untill  he  was  returned 
+againe  to  Athens.     And  bicause  the  words  of  this  prophecy 
+were  somewhat  darke,  and  hard  :   he  tooke  his  way  by  the 
+city  of  Troezen,  to  tell  it  unto  Pitheus.     The  wordes  of  the 
+prophecy  were  these : 
+
+O  thou  which  art  a  gemme  of  perfect  grace, 
+
+plucke  not  the  tappe,  out  of  thy  trusty  toonne  : 
+Before  thou  do,  returne  unto  thy  place, 
+
+in  Athens  towne,  from  whence  thy  race  doth  roonne. 
+
+Pitheus  understanding  the  meaning,  perswaded  him,  or 
+rather  cunningly  by  some  devise  deceived  him  in  such  sorte, 
+that  he  made  him  to  lye  with  his  daughter  called  ^Ethra.  ^thra  the 
+^Egeus  after  he  had  accompanied  with  her,  knowing  that  she  daughter  of 
+was  Pitheus  daughter  with  whom  he  had  lyen,  and  douting  ^'"^g'  Pitheus, 
+that  he  had  gotten  her  with  child  :  left  her  a  sword  and  a  mother  of 
+payer  of  shoes,  the  which  he  hidde  under  a  great  hollow  Theseus, 
+stone,  the   hollownes   wherof  served  just  to  receive  those 
+things  which  he  layed  under  it,  and  made  no  living  creature 
+privy  to  it  but  her  alone,  straightly  charging  her,  that  if 
+she  happened  to  have  a  sonne,  when  he  were  come  to  mans 
+state,  and  of  strength  to  remove  the  stone,  and  to  take  those 
+things  from  under  it  which  he  left  there  :  that  she  should 
+then  sende  him  unto  him  by  those  tokens,  as  secretly  as  she 
+could,  that  no   body  els  might  knowe  of  it.     For  he  did  The  Pallan- 
+greatly  feare  the  children  of  one  called  Pallas,  the  which  tides. 
+
+31 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE  NOBLE 
+
+THESEUS  laye  in  wayte  and  spyall  by  all  the  meanes  they  could  to 
+kill  him,  only  of  despight  bicause  he  had  no  children,  they 
+Pallas  had        being  fiftie  brethern,  and  all  begotten  of  one  father.     This 
+fiftie  souues,     done,  he  departed  from  her.    And  JEthra  within  fewe  moneths 
+after  was  delivered  of  a  goodly  sonne,  the  which  from  that 
+Why  Theseus  time  was  called  Theseus  :  and  as  some  say,  so  called,  bicause 
+was  so  called,  of  the  tokens  of  knowledge  his  father  had  layed  under  the 
+stone.     Yet  some  others  write,  that  it  was  afterwardes  at 
+Athens  when  his  father  knewe  him,  and  avowed  him  for  his 
+Sonne.      But  in  the  meane  time,  during  his  infancie  and 
+childehood,  he  was  brought  up  in  the  house  of  his  grand- 
+father Pitheus,  under  the  government  and  teaching  of  one 
+Connidas         called  Connidas,  his  schoolemaster  :  in  honour  of  whom  the 
+Theseus  Athenians  to  this  daye  doe  sacrifice  a  weather,  the  daye 
+
+schoole-  before  the  great  feaste  of  Theseus,  having  more  reason  to 
+
+honour  the  memorye  of  this  governour,  then  of  a  Silanion 
+and  of  a  Parrhasius,  to  whom  they  doe  honour  also,  bicause 
+they  paynted  and  caste  mowldes  of  the  images  of  Theseus. 
+A  custome  to    Now  there  was  a  custome  at  that  time  in  Grece,  that  the 
+offer  heares      yong  men  after  their  infancie  and  growth  to  mans  state, 
+at  Delphes.      ^yent  unto  the  cittie  of  Delphes,  to  offer  parte  of  their  heares 
+in  the  temple  of  Apollo.    Theseus  also  went  thither  as  other 
+did  :  and  some  saye  that  the  place  where  the  ceremonie  of 
+this  offering  was  made,  hath  ever  sence  kept  the  olde  name, 
+Theseia,  (and  yet  continueth)  Theseia.     Howbeit  he  dyd  not  shave 
+
+Theseus  man-  his  head  but  before  only,  as  Homer  sayeth,  like  the  facion  of 
+er  of  shaving.  i}iq  Abantes  in  olde  time  :  and  this  manner  of  shaving  of 
+heares,  was  called  for  his  sake,  Theseida.  And  as  concerning 
+The  Abantes.  the  Abantes,  in  trothe  they  were  the  very  first  that  shaved 
+them  selves  after  this  facion  :  nevertheles  they  learned  it 
+not  of  the  Arabians  as  it  was  thought  of  some,  neither  dyd 
+they  it  after  the  imitation  of  the  Missians.  But  bicause 
+they  were  warlike  and  valliant  men,  which  did  joyne  neere 
+unto  their  enemie  in  battell,  and  above  all  men  of  the  worlde 
+were  skilfuUest  in  fight  hande  to  hande,  and  woulde  keepe 
+their  grounde :  as  the  Poet  Archilochus  witnesseth  in  these 
+verses : 
+
+They  use  no  slynges  in  foughten  fields  to  have, 
+
+nor  bended  bowes  :  but  swords  and  trenchant  blades. 
+32 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+For  when  fierce  Mars  beginneth  for  to  rave,  THESEUS 
+
+in  bloody  field :  then  every  man  invades 
+His  fiercest  foe,  and  fighteth  hand  to  hand. 
+
+then  doe  they  deeds,  right  cruell  to  reconpt. 
+For  in  this  wise,  the  brave  and  warlike  bande 
+
+do  shew  their  force  which  come  from  Negrepont. 
+
+The  cause  why  they  were  thus  shaven  before,  was,  for  that  The  cause  of 
+
+their  enemies  should  not  have  the  vauntage  to  take  them  by  shaving  their 
+
+the  heares  of  the  head  while  they  were  fighting.     And  for  ^^^'"^^  ^^^"''^• 
+
+this   selfe   same   consideration,    Alexander   the   great  com-  Alexander 
+
+maunded    his   captaines  to   cause   all  the    Macedonians  to  ^^^8?,"^  m&de 
+
+shave   their   beards :    bicause  it   is   the  easiest   holde  (and  ^j^^^  shave" 
+
+readiest  for  the  hande)  a  man  can  have  of  his  enemie  in  ^heir  beardes. 
+
+fighting,  to  holde  him  fast  by  the  same.     But  to  retume  to 
+
+Theseus.     iEthra  his  mother  had  ever  unto  that  time  kept 
+
+it  secret  from  him,  who  was  his  true  father.     And  Pitheus 
+
+also  had  geven    it  out   abroade,  that  he  was  begotten    of  Theseus  said 
+
+Neptune,  bicause  the   Troezenians  have  this  god  in   great  ^^  "®  Nep- 
+
+^,.  jj  1.  1.  ,  °j         i,       tunes  Sonne, 
+
+veneration,  and  doe  worshippe  him  as  patron  and  protector 
+
+of  their  cittie,  making  offerings  to  him  of  their  first  fruites  : 
+and  they  have  for  the  marke  and  stampe  of  their  money,  the  The  Troeze- 
+three  picked  mace,  which  is  the  signe  of  Neptune,  called  his  ^tamned^wi^h 
+Trident.     But  after  he  was  comen  to  the  prime  and  lustines  Neptunes 
+of  his  youth,  and  that  with  the  strength  of  his  bodie  he  three  picked 
+shewed  a  great  courage,  joyned  with  a  naturall  wisedome,  and  niace. 
+stayednes  of  wit :  then  his  mother  brought  him  to  the  place 
+where  this  great  hollowe  stone  laye,  and  telling  him  truely 
+the  order  of  his  birth,  and  by  whom  he  was  begotten,  made  Theseus 
+him  to  take  his  fathers  tokens  of  knowledge,  which  he  had  y^^^he. 
+hidden  there,  and  gave  him  counsell  to  goe  by  sea  to  Athens 
+unto  him.     Theseus  easilye  lyft  up  the  stone,  and  tooke  his 
+fathers  tokens  from  under  it :  Howbeit  he  answered  playnely, 
+that  he  would  not  goe  by  sea,  notwithstanding  that  it  was 
+a  great  deale  the  safer  waye,  and  that  his  mother  and  grand- 
+father both  had  instantly  intreated  him,  bicause  the  waye 
+by  lande  from  Troezen  to  Athens  was  very  daungerous,  all  Great  robbing 
+the  wayes  being  besett  by  robbers  and  murderers.     For  the  J?  Theseus 
+worlde  at  that  time  brought  forth  men,  which  for  strong-  ^^t.  i. 
+nesse  in  their  armes,  for  swyftnes  of  feete,  and  for  a  generall 
+E  33 
+
+
+Hercules  a 
+destroyer  of 
+theeves. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+THESEUS  strength  of  the  whole  bodye,  dyd  farre  passe  the  common 
+force  of  others,  and  were  never  wearie  for  any  labour  or 
+travell  they  tooke  in  hande.  But  for  all  this,  they  never 
+employed  these  giftes  of  nature  to  any  honest  or  profitable 
+thing,  but  rather  delighted  villanously  to  hurte  and  wronge 
+others :  as  if  all  the  fruite  and  profit  of  their  extraordinary 
+strength  had  consisted  in  crueltye,  and  violence  only,  and  to 
+be  able  to  keepe  others  under  and  in  subjection,  and  to  force, 
+destroye,  and  spoyle  all  that  came  to  their  handes.  Thinck- 
+ing  that  the  more  parte  of  those  which  thincke  it  a  shame  to 
+doe  ill,  and  commend  justice,  equitie,  and  humanitie,  doe  it 
+of  fainte  cowardly  heartes,  bicause  they  dare  not  wronge 
+others,  for  feare  they  should  receyve  wronge  them  selves : 
+and  therefore,  that  they  which  by  might  could  have  vauntage 
+over  others,  had  nothing  to  doe  with  suche  quiet  qualities. 
+Nowe  Hercules,  travailling  abroade  in  the  worlde,  drave 
+awaye  many  of  those  wicked  thevishe  murderers,  and  some 
+of  them  he  slewe  and  put  to  death,  other  as  he  passed 
+through  those  places  where  they  kept,  dyd  hide  them  selves 
+for  feare  of  him,  and  gave  place  :  in  so  much  as  Hercules, 
+perceyving  they  were  well  tamed  and  brought  lowe,  made  no 
+further  reckoning  to  pursue  them  any  more.  But  after  that 
+by  fortune  he  had  slayne  Iphitus  with  his  owne  handes,  and 
+that  he  was  passed  over  the  seas  into  the  countrye  of  Lydia, 
+Hercules  serv-  where  he  served  Queene  Omphale  a  long  time,  condemning 
+eth  Omphale.  him  selfe  unto  that  voluntarie  payne,  for  the  murder  he  had 
+committed.  All  the  Realme  of  Lydia  during  his  abode 
+there,  remained  in  great  peace  and  securitie  from  such  kynde 
+of  people,  Howbeit  in  Grece,  and  all  thereabouts,  these 
+olde  mischiefes  beganne  againe  to  renue,  growing  hotter 
+and  violenter  then  before :  bicause  there  was  no  man  that 
+punished  them,  nor  that  durst  take  upon  him  to  destroye 
+them.  By  which  occasion,  the  waye  to  goe  from  Pelopon- 
+nesus to  Athens  by  lande  was  very  perillous.  And  therefore 
+Pitheus  declaring  unto  Theseus,  what  manner  of  theeves  there 
+were  that  laye  in  the  waye,  and  the  outrages  and  villanies 
+they  dyd  to  all  travellers  and  wayefaring  men,  sought  the 
+rather  to  perswade  him  thereby  to  take  his  voyage  alonge 
+the  seas.  Howbeit  in  mine  opinion,  the  fame  and  glorie  of 
+34 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+Hercules  noble  dedes,  had  long  before  secretly  sett  his  hearte  THESEUS 
+on  fire,  so  that  he  made  reckoning  of  none  other  but  of  him,  Theseus 
+and  lovingly  hearkened  unto  those  which  woulde  seeme  to  foloweth 
+describe  him  what  manner  of  man  he  was,  but  chiefly  unto  Hercules, 
+those  which  had  scene  him,  and  bene  in  his  companye,  when 
+he  had  sayed  or  done  any  thing  worthy  of  memorye.     For 
+then  he  dyd  manifestly  open  him  selfe,  that  he  felt  the  like 
+passion  in  his  hearte,  which  Themistocles  long  time  after- 
+wardes   endured,    when    he   sayed :    that    the   victorie   and 
+triumphe  of  Miltiades  would  not  lett  him  sleepe.     For  even  Desire  of 
+so,  the  wonderfull  admiration  which  Theseus  had  of  Hercules  fame  pricketh 
+corage,  made  him  in  the  night  that  he  never  dreamed  but  of  '"^^  forward 
+his  noble  actes  and  doings,  and  in  the  daye  time,  pricked  p^jfes* 
+forwardes  with  emulation  and  envie  of  his  glorie,  he  deter- 
+mined with  him  selfe  one  daye  to  doe  the  like,  and  the 
+rather,  bicause  they  were  neere  kynsemen,  being  cosins  re- 
+moved by  the  mothers  side.     For  ^thra  was  the  daughter  Theseus  and 
+of  Pitheus,  and  Alcmena  (the  mother  of  Hercules)  was  the  Hercules  nere 
+daughter  of  Lysidices,  the  which  was  halfe  sister  to  Pitheus,  *^ynsemen. 
+bothe  children  of  Pelops  and  of  his  wife  Hippodamia.     So 
+he  thought  he  should  be  utterly  shamed  and  disgraced,  that 
+Hercules  travelling  through  the  worlde  in  that  sorte,  dyd 
+seeke  out  those  wicked  theeves  to  rydde  both  sea  and  lande 
+of  them :  and  that  he,  farre  otherwise,  should  flye  occasion 
+that  might  be  offered  him,  to  fight  with  them  that  he  should 
+meete  on  his  waye.     Moreover,  he  was  of  opinion  he  should 
+greately  shame  and  dishonour  him,  whom  fame  and  common 
+bruite  of  people  reported  to  be  his  father :  if  in  shonning 
+occasion  to  fight,  he  should  convey  him  selfe  by  sea,  and 
+should  carie  to  his  true  father  also  a  paire  of  shooes,  (to 
+make  him  knowen  of  him)  and  a  sworde  not  yet  bathed  in 
+bloude.     Where  he  should  rather  seeke  cause,  by  manifest 
+token  of  his  worthie  deedes,  to  make  knowen  to  the  worlde, 
+of  what  noble  bloude  he  came,  and  from  whence  he  was 
+descended.     With  this  determination,  Theseus  holdeth   on 
+his   purposed  jorney,    with    intent   to  hurte   no  man,   yet 
+to  defende  him  selfe,  and  to  be  revenged   of  those  which 
+woulde  take   upon  them  to  assault  him.     The  first  there- 
+fore whom    he   slewe   within   the   territories    of  the   cittie 
+
+35 
+
+
+THESEUS 
+
+Periphetes 
+Corinetes,  a 
+famous  rob- 
+ber, slayne  of 
+Theseus. 
+
+Theseus 
+caried  the 
+clubbe  he 
+wanne  of  Pe- 
+riphetes, as 
+Hercules  did 
+the  lions  skin. 
+
+Sinnis  Pityo- 
+camtes,  a 
+cruel  mur- 
+therer  slaine. 
+
+
+Perigouna 
+Sinnis  daugh- 
+ter. 
+
+
+Theseus  be- 
+gatte  Mena- 
+lippus  of 
+Perigouna. 
+loxus,  Mena- 
+lippus  Sonne. 
+loxides. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+of  Epidaurum,  was  a  robber  called  Periphetes.  This  robber 
+used  for  his  ordinarie  weapon  to  carie  a  clubbe,  and  for 
+that  cause  he  was  commonly  surnamed  Corynetes,  that  is 
+to  saye,  a  clubbe  caryer.  So  he  first  strake  at  Theseus  to 
+make  him  stande :  but  Theseus  fought  so  lustely  with  him, 
+that  he  killed  him.  Whereof  he  was  so  glad,  and  chiefly 
+for  that  he  had  wonne  his  clubbe,  that  ever  after  he  caryed 
+it  him  selfe  about  with  him,  as  Hercules  dyd  the  lyons 
+skynne.  And  like  as  this  spoyle  of  the  lyon  dyd  witnesse 
+the  greatnes  of  the  beast  which  Hercules  had  slayne :  even 
+so  Theseus  went  all  about,  shewing  that  this  clubbe  which 
+he  had  gotten  out  of  anothers  hands,  was  in  his  owne 
+handes  invincible.  And  so  groinff  on  further,  in  the  streightes 
+of  Peloponnesus  he  killed  another,  called  Sinnis  surnamed 
+Pityocamtes,  that  is  to  saye,  a  wreather,  or  bower  of  pyne 
+apple  trees :  whom  he  put  to  death  in  that  selfe  cruell 
+manner  that  Sinnis  had  slayne  many  other  travellers  before. 
+Not  that  he  had  experience  thereof,  by  any  former  practise 
+or  exercise  :  but  only  to  shewe,  that  cleane  strength  coulde 
+doe  more,  then  either  arte  or  exercise.  This  Sinnis  had  a 
+goodly  fayer  daughter  called  Perigouna,  which  fled  awaye, 
+when  she  sawe  her  father  slayne :  whom  he  followed  and 
+sought  all  about.  But  she  had  hydden  her  selfe  in  a  grove 
+full  of  certen  kyndes  of  wilde  pricking  rushes  called  Stoebe, 
+and  wilde  sparage,  which  she  simplye  like  a  childe  intreated 
+to  hyde  her,  as  if  they  had  heard  and  had  sense  to  vmder- 
+stand  her  :  promising  them  with  an  othe,  that  if  they  saved 
+her  from  being  founde,  she  would  never  cutt  them  downe, 
+nor  burne  them.  But  Theseus  fynding  her,  called  her,  and 
+sware  by  his  faith  he  would  use  her  gently,  and  doe  her  no 
+hurte,  nor  displeasure  at  all.  Upon  which  promise  she 
+came  out  of  the  bushe,  and  laye  with  him,  by  whom  she  was 
+conceyved  of  a  goodly  boye,  which  was  called  Menalippus. 
+Afterwardes  Theseus  maried  her  unto  one  Deioneus,  the 
+Sonne  of  Euritus  the  Oechalian.  Of  this  Menalippus,  the 
+Sonne  of  Theseus,  came  loxus :  the  which  with  Ornytus 
+brought  men  into  the  countrye  of  Caria,  where  he  buylt  the 
+cittie  of  loxides.  And  hereof  cometh  that  olde  auncient 
+ceremonie,  observed  yet  unto  this  daye  by  those  of  loxides, 
+36 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+never  to  burne  the  bryars  of  wilde  sparage,  nor  the  Stoebe,  THESEUS 
+but  they  have  them  in  some  honour  and  reverence.     Touch- 
+ino-  the  wilde  savage  sowe  of  Crommyon,  otherwise  surnamed  Phaea  the 
+Phaea,  that  is  to  saye,  overgrowen  with  age  :  she  was  not  a  wUde  sowe  of 
+beast  to  be  made  light  account  of,  but  was  very  fierce,  and     i'9"^"^yon 
+terrible  to  kyll.     Theseus  notwithstanding  taryed  for  her, 
+and  kylled  her  in  his  jorney,  to  the  ende  it  shoulde  not 
+appeare  to  the  worlde,  that  all  the  valliant  deedes  he  dyd, 
+were  done  by  compulsion,  and  of  necessitie  :  adding  thereto 
+his  opinion  also,  that  a  valliant  main  should  not  onely  fight 
+with  men,  to  defend  him  selfe  from  the  wicked  :  but  that  he 
+should  be  the  first,  to  assaulte  and  slaye  wilde  hurtefuU 
+beastes.     Nevertheles  others  have  written,  that  this  Phaea  Phaea  a  wo- 
+was  a  woman  robber,  a  murderer,  and  naught  of  her  bodye,  "^^^  theefe. 
+which  spoyled  those  that  passed  by  the  place  called  Crom- 
+myonia,  where  she  dwelt :    and  that  she  was  surnamed  a 
+sowe,  for  her  beastly  brutishe  behaviour,  and  wicked  life,  for 
+the  which  in  the  ende  she  was  also  slayne  by  Theseus,    After 
+her  he  kylled  Sciron,  entring  into  the  territories  of  Megara,  Sciron  a  not- 
+bicause  he  robbed  all  travellers  by  the  waye,  as  the  common  ^^^®  robber, 
+reporte  goeth  :  or  as  others  saye,  for  that  of  a  cruell,  wicked,  (jo^ng  tjjg 
+and  savage  pleasure,  he  put  forth  his  feete  to  those  that  rocks  by 
+passed  by  the  sea  side,  and  compelled  them  to  washe  them.  Theseus, 
+And  then  when  they  thought  to  stowpe  to  doe  it,  he  still 
+spurned  them  with  his  feete,  till  he  thrust  them  hedlong 
+into  the  sea  :    so  Theseus  threw  him  hedlong  downe  the 
+rockes,      Howbeit  the  writers  of  Megara  impugning  this 
+common  reporte,  and  desirous  (as  Simonides  sayeth)  to  over- 
+throwe  it  that  had  continued  by  prescription  of  time :   dyd 
+mainteine  that  this  Sciron  was  never  any  robber,  nor  wicked 
+persone,  but  rather  a  pursuer  and  punisher  of  the  wricked, 
+and  a  friend  and  a  kynseman  of  the  most  honest,  and  j  ustest 
+men  of  Grece,     For  there  is  no  man  but  will  confesse,  that 
+iEacus  was  the  most  vertuous  man  among  the  Grecians  in  ^acus, 
+his  time,  and  that  Cychreus  the  Salaminian  is  honoured  and  Cychreus. 
+reverenced  as  a  god  at  Athens  :   and  there  is  no  man  also 
+but  knoweth,  that  Peleus  and  Telamon  were  men  of  singular 
+vertue,     Nowe  it  is  certeine,  that  this  Sciron  was  the  sonne 
+in  lawe  of  Cychreus,  father  in  lawe  of  ^acus,  and  grand- 
+
+37 
+
+
+THESEUS 
+
+
+Cercyon  the 
+Arcadian 
+slaine  of 
+Theseus  by 
+wrestling. 
+
+Damastes 
+Procrustes  a 
+cruel  mur- 
+therer,  slaine 
+of  Theseus. 
+
+Hercules 
+doings. 
+
+Termerus 
+evill. 
+
+
+Cephisus,  a  ri- 
+ver of  Boeotia. 
+
+The  Phy- 
+talides  the 
+first  men 
+that  feasted 
+Theseus  in 
+their  houses. 
+
+This  sacrifice 
+Plutarchecall- 
+eth  Milichia. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+father  of  Peleus  and  of  Telamon,  the  which  two  were  the 
+children  of  Endeida,  the  daughter  of  the  sayed  Sciron,  and 
+of  his  wife  Charielo.  Also  it  is  not  very  likely,  that  so 
+many  good  men  would  have  had  affinitie  with  so  naughty 
+and  wicked  a  man :  in  taking  of  him,  and  geving  him  that, 
+which  men  love  best  of  all  things  in  the  worlde.  And 
+therefore  the  Historiographers  saye,  that  it  was  not  the 
+first  time,  when  Theseus  went  unto  Athens,  that  he  killed 
+Sciron :  but  that  it  was  many  dayes  after,  when  he  tooke 
+the  cittie  of  Eleusin,  which  the  Megarians  helde  at  that 
+time,  where  he  deceyved  the  governour  of  the  cittie  called 
+Diodes,  and  there  he  slewe  Sciron.  And  these  be  the  objec- 
+tions the  Megarians  alledged  touching  this  matter.  He 
+slewe  also  Cercyon  the  Arcadian,  in  the  cittie  of  Eleusin, 
+wrestling  with  him.  And  going  a  litle  further,  he  slewe 
+Damastes,  otherwise  surnamed  Procrustes,  in  the  cittie  of 
+Hermionia :  and  that  by  stretching  on  him  out,  to  make 
+him  even  with  the  length  and  measure  of  his  beddes,  as  he 
+was  wont  to  doe  unto  straungers  that  passed  by.  Theseus 
+dyd  that  after  the  imitation  of  Hercules,  who  punished 
+tyrannes  with  the  selfe  same  payne  and  torment,  which  they 
+had  made  others  suffer.  For  even  so  dyd  Hercules  sacrifice 
+Busiris.  So  he  stifled  Antheus  in  wrestling.  So  he  put 
+Cycnus  to  death,  fighting  with  him  man  to  man.  So  he 
+brake  Termerus  heade,  from  whom  this  proverbe  of  Termerus 
+evill  came,  which  continueth  yet  unto  this  daye  :  for  this 
+Termerus  dyd  use  to  put  them  to  death  in  this  sorte  whom 
+he  met :  to  jolle  his  head  against  theirs.  Thus  proceeded 
+Theseus  after  this  selfe  manner,  punishing  the  wicked  in 
+like  sorte,  justly  compelling  them  tabyde  the  same  payne 
+and  torments,  which  they  before  had  unjustly  made  others 
+abyde.  And  so  he  helde  on  his  jorney  untill  he  came  to  the 
+river  of  Cephisus,  where  certaine  persones  of  the  house  of 
+the  Phytalides  were  the  first  which  went  to  meete  him,  to 
+honour  him,  and  at  his  request  they  purified  him  according 
+to  the  ceremonies  used  at  that  time :  and  afterward  es  having 
+made  a  sacrifice  of  propitiation  unto  their  goddes,  they  made 
+him  great  chere  in  their  houses  :  and  this  was  the  first  notable 
+enterteinment  he  founde  in  all  his  jorney.  It  is  supposed 
+38 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+he  arrived  in  the  cittie  of  Athens,  the  eight  daye  of  the  THESEUS 
+moneth  of  June,  which  then  they  called  Cronius.  He  found 
+the  comon  wealth  turmoyled  with  seditions,  factions,  and 
+divisions,  and  perticularly  the  house  of  ^Egeus  in  very  ill 
+termes  also,  bicause  that  Medea  (being  banished  out  of  the 
+cittie  of  Corinthe)  was  come  to  dwell  in  Athens,  and  remained 
+with  iEgeus,  whom  she  had  promised  by  vertue  of  certaine 
+medicines  to  make  him  to  get  children.  But  when  she  heard 
+tell  that  Theseus  was  comen,  before  that  the  good  king 
+iEgeus  (who  was  nowe  becomen  olde,  suspitious,  and  affrayed 
+of  sedition,  by  reason  of  the  great  factions  within  the  cittie 
+at  that  time)  knewe  what  he  was,  she  perswaded  him  to  Medea  per- 
+poyson  him  at  a  feaste  which  they  woulde  make  him  as  a  swaded^Egeus 
+straunger  that  passed  by.  Theseus  failed  not  to  goe  to  this  ji^^^^T^ 
+prepared  feaste  whereunto  he  was  bydden,  but  yet  thought 
+it  not  good  to  disclose  him  selfe.  And  the  rather  to  geve 
+JEgeus  occasion  and  meane  to  knowe  him  :  when  they  brought 
+the  meate  to  the  borde,  he  drewe  out  his  sworde,  as  though 
+he  woulde  have  cut  with  all,  and  shewed  it  unto  him.  ^geus  ^Egeus  ac- 
+seeing  it,  knewe  it  straight,  and  forthwith  overthrewe  the  knowledgeth 
+cuppe  with  poyson  which  was  prepared  for  him  :  and  after  v/gfnnp  ^^ 
+he  had  inquired  of  him,  and  asked  thinges,  he  embraced  him 
+as  his  Sonne.  Afterwardes  in  the  common  assembly  of  the 
+inhabitants  of  the  cittie,  he  declared,  howe  he  avowed  him  for 
+his  Sonne.  Then  all  the  people  receyved  him  with  exceeding 
+joye,  for  the  ^eno^vne  of  his  valiantnes  and  manhoode.  And 
+some  saye,  that  when  JEgeus  overthrewe  the  cuppe,  the  poyson 
+which  was  in  it,  fell  in  that  place,  where  there  is  at  this  pre- 
+sent a  certen  compasse  inclosed  all  about  within  the  temple, 
+which  is  called  Delphinium.  For  even  there  in  that  place,  in 
+the  olde  time,  stoode  the  house  of  vEgeus :  in  witnes  whereof, 
+they  call  yet  at  this  present  time  the  image  of  Mercurye 
+(which  is  on  the  side  of  the  temple  looking  towardes  the  rising 
+of  the  sunne)  the  Mercurye  gate  of  iEgeus.  But  the  Pallan- 
+tides,  which  before  stoode  allwayes  in  hope  to  recover  the 
+realme  of  Athens,  at  the  least  after  ^Egeus  death,  bicause  he 
+had  no  children  :  when  they  sawe  that  Theseus  was  knowen, 
+and  openly  declared  for  his  sonne  and  heir,  and  successour  to 
+the  Realme,  they  were  not  able  any  lenger  to  beare  it,  seeing 
+
+39 
+
+
+THESEUS 
+
+
+The  Pallan- 
+tides  take 
+armes  against 
+^geus  aud 
+Theseus. 
+
+Leos  an  Her- 
+auld  bewray- 
+eth  their 
+treason  to 
+Theseus. 
+
+Theseus 
+killeth  the 
+Pallantides. 
+
+
+The  bull  of 
+Marathon 
+taken  alive  by 
+Theseus. 
+
+Apollo 
+Delphias. 
+
+
+lupiter 
+Hecalian. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+that  not  onely  iEgeus  (who  was  but  the  adopted  sonne  of 
+Pandion,  and  nothing  at  all  of  the  bloude  royall  of  the 
+Erictheides)  had  usurped  the  Kingdome  over  them,  but  that 
+Theseus  also  should  enjoye  it  after  his  death.  Whereupon 
+they  determined  to  make  warre  with  them  both,  and  dividing 
+them  selves  into  two  partes,  the  one  came  openly  in  armes 
+with  their  father,  marching  directly  towardes  the  cittie :  the 
+other  laye  close  in  ambushe  in  the  village  Gargettus,  meaning 
+to  geve  charge  upon  them  in  two  places  at  one  instant. 
+Nowe  they  brought  with  them  an  Heraulde  borne  in  the 
+towne  of  Agnus,  called  Leos,  who  bewrayed  unto  Theseus 
+the  secret  and  devise  of  all  their  enterprise.  Theseus  upon 
+this  intelligence  went  forth,  and  dyd  set  on  those  that  laye 
+in  ambushe,  and  put  them  all  to  the  sworde.  The  other 
+which  were  in  Pallas  companie  understanding  thereof,  dyd 
+breake  and  disparse  them  selves  incontinently.  And  this  is 
+the  cause  (as  some  saye)  why  those  of  Pallena  doe  never 
+make  affinitie  nor  mariadge  with  those  of  Agnus  at  this 
+daye.  And  that  in  their  towne  when  any  proclamation  is 
+made,  they  never  speake  these  words  which  are  cryed  every 
+where  els  through  out  the  whole  countrye  of  Attica,  Acouete 
+Leos^  (which  is  as  muche  to  saye,  as  Hearken,  O  people)  they 
+doe  so  extreamely  hate  this  worde  Leos,  for  that  it  was  the 
+Herauldes  name  which  wrought  them  that  treason.  This 
+done,  Theseus  who  woulde  not  live  idelly  at  home  and  doe 
+nothing,  but  desirous  there  withall  to  gratifie  the  people, 
+went  his  waye  to  fight  with  the  bull  of  Marathon,  the  which 
+dyd  great  mischieves  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  countrye  of 
+Tetrapolis.  And  having  taken  him  alive,  brought  him 
+through  the  citie  of  Athens  to  be  scene  of  all  the  inhabitants. 
+Afterwardes  he  dyd  sacrifice  him  unto  Apollo  Delphias. 
+Nowe  concerning  Hecale,  who  was  reported  to  have  lodged 
+him,  and  to  have  geven  him  good  enterteinment,  it  is  not 
+altogether  untrue.  For  in  the  olde  time,  those  townes  and 
+villages  thereaboutes  dyd  assemble  together,  and  made  a 
+common  sacrifice  which  they  called  Hecalesion,  in  the  honour 
+of  lupiter  Hecalian,  where  they  honoured  this  olde  woman, 
+calling  her  by  a  diminutive  name,  Hecalena  :  bicause  that 
+when  she  receyved  Theseus  into  her  house,  being  then  but 
+40 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+very  younge,  she  made  muche  of  him,  and  called  him  by  THESEUS 
+
+many  prety  made  names,  as  olde  folkes  are  wont  to  call 
+
+younge  children.     And  forasmuche  as  she  had  made  a  vowe 
+
+to  lupiter  to  make  him  a  solemne  sacrifice,  if  Theseus  returned 
+
+safe  from  the  enterprise  he  went  about,  and  that  she  dyed 
+
+before  his  returne  :  in  recompence  of  the  good  chere  she  had 
+
+made  him,  she  had  that  honour  done  unto  her  by  Theseus 
+
+commaundement,  as  Philochorus  bathe  written  of  it.    Shortely 
+
+after  this  exployte,  there  came  certaine  of  King  Minos  am- 
+
+bassadours  out  of  Creta,  to  aske  tribute,  being  nowe  the 
+
+thirde  time  it  was  demaunded,  which  the  Athenians  payed  The  Athe- 
+
+for  this  cause.     Androgens,  the  eldest  sonne  of  king  Minos,  nians  payed 
+
+was  slayne  by  treason  within  the  countrye  of  Attica :   for  tribute  to 
+
+which  cause  Minos  pursuing  the  revenge  of  his  death,  made  r^^^  for^he 
+
+very  whotte  and  sharpe  warres  upon  the  Athenians,  and  dyd  death' of 
+
+them  greate  hurte.     But  besides  all  this,  the  goddes  dyd  Audrogeus 
+
+sharpely  punishe  and  scourge  all  the  countrye,  aswell  with  ^i^  sonne. 
+
+barrennes  and  famine,  as  also  with  plague  and  other  mis- 
+
+chieves,  even  to  the  drying  up  of  their  rivers.    The  Athenians 
+
+perceyving  these  sore  troubles  and  plagues,  ranne  to  the 
+
+oracle  of  Apollo,  who  aunswered  them  that  they  shoulde 
+
+appease  Minos :   and  when  they  had  made  their  peace  with 
+
+him,  that  then  the  wrathe  of  the  goddes  woulde  cease  against 
+
+them,  and  their  troubles  should  have  an  ende.     Whereupon 
+
+the  Athenians   sent  immediately   unto  him,  and  intreated 
+
+him  for  peace  :  which  he  graunted  them,  with  condition  that  The  manner 
+
+they  should  be  bounde  to  sende  him  yerely  into  Creta,  seven  of  the  tribute 
+
+younge  boyes,  and  as  many  younge  gyrles.    Nowe  thus  farre,  conditioned. 
+
+all  the  Historiographers  doe  very  well  agree  :  but  in  the  reste 
+
+not.     And  they  which  seeme  furdest  of  from  the  trothe,  doe 
+
+declare,  that  when  these  yonge  boyes  were  delivered  in  Creta, 
+
+they  caused  them  to  be  devowred  by  the  Minotaure  within 
+
+the  Laberinthe  :    or  els  that   they  were  shut  within  this 
+
+Laberinthe,  wandring  up  and   dowTie,  and  coulde  finde  no  The  Mino- 
+
+place  to  gett   out,   untill  suche  time    as    they   dyed,   even  taure  what  it 
+
+famished  for  hunger.     And  this  Minotaure,  as  Euripides  the  ^*^' 
+
+Poet  sayeth,  was 
+
+A  corps  combynd,  which  monstrous  might  be  deemd  ; 
+A  Boye^  a  Bull;  both  man  and  beast  it  seemd. 
+F  41 
+
+
+taines. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+THESEUS       But  Philochorus  writeth,  that  the  Cretans  doe  not  con- 
+The  Labe-        fesse  that,  but  saye  that  this   Laberinthe  was  a  gayle   or 
+rmthe  a  pri-     prisone,  in  the  which  they  had  no  other  hurte,  saving  that 
+re  a.    ||^gy  which  were  kept  there  under  locke  and  keye,  coulde 
+not  flye  nor  starte  awaye :    and    that    Minos   had,  in  the 
+memorye   of  his  sonne   Androgeus,    instituted    games   and 
+playes  of  prise,  where  he  gave  unto  them  that  wanne  the 
+victorie,  those  younge  children  of  Athens,  the  which  in  the 
+meane  time  notwithstanding  were  carefully  kept  and  looked 
+unto  in  the  prisone  of  the  Laberinthe  :  and  that  at  the  first 
+games  that  were   kept,  one  of  the  Kings  captaines  called 
+Taurus  one  of  Taurus,  who  was  in  best  creditt  with  his  master,  wanne  the 
+Minoes  cap-     prise.     This  Taurus  was  a  churlishe,  and  naughtie  natured 
+man  of  condition,  and  very  harde  and  cruell  to  these  children 
+of  Athens.    And  to  verifie  the  same,  the  philosopher  Aris- 
+totle  him   selfe,   speaking  of  the   common  wealth    of  the 
+Of  the  Bot-      Bottieians,  declareth  very  well,  that  he  never  thought  that 
+tieians.    Plin.  Minos  dyd  at  any  time  cause  the  children  of  Athens  to  be 
+.  4.  cap.  2.    p^^  ^Q  death  :  but  sayeth,  that  they  poorely  toyled  in  Creta 
+even  to  crooked  age,  earning  their  living  by  true  and  paine- 
+fuU  service.     For  it  is  written,  that  the  Cretans  (to  satisfie 
+an  olde  vowe  of  theirs  which  they  had  made  of  auncient 
+time)  sent  somtimes  the  first  borne  of  their  children,  unto 
+Apollo  in  the  cittie  of  Delphes :  and  that  amongest  them 
+they    also    mingled    those,    which    were    descended    of   the 
+auncient  prisoners  of  Athens,  and  they  went  with   them. 
+But  bicause  they  coulde  not  live  there,  they  directed  their 
+jorney  first  into  Italic,  where  for  a  time  they  remained  in 
+the  realme  of  Puglia,  and  afterwardes  from  thence  went  into 
+the  confines  of  Thracia,  where  they  had  this  name  of  Bot- 
+tieians.   In  memory  whereof,  the  daughters  of  the  Bottieians 
+in  a  solemne  sacrifice  they  make,  doe  use  to  singe  the  foote 
+of  this  songe  :  Lett  us  to  Athens  goe.    But  thereby  we  maye 
+see  howe  perilous  a  thing  it  is,  to  fall  in  displeasure  and 
+enmitie  with   a  cittie,  which   can  speake  well,    and  where 
+King  ^iJios     learning  and  eloquence  dothe  florishe.     For  ever  sence  that 
+PoetTin  the  ^  ^^"^^5  Minos  was  allwayes  biased  and  disgraced  through  out 
+theaters  at       ^^  the  Theaters  of  Athens.     The  testimonie  of  Hesiodus, 
+Athens,  who  calleth    him  the  most   worthie    King,    dothe   nothing 
+
+42 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+helpe  him  at  all,  nor  the  prayse  of  Homer,  who  nameth  him  THESEUS 
+
+lupiters  famillier  friende :  bicause  the  tragicall  Poets  gott 
+
+the   upper   hande   in    disgracing  liim,  notwithstanding   all 
+
+these.     And  upon  their  stages  where  all  the  tragedies  were 
+
+played,  they  still  gave  forth  many  ill  favored  wordes,  and 
+
+fowle  speaches  of  him  :  as  against  a  man  that  had  bene  most 
+
+cruell  and  unnaturall.     Yet  most  men  thincke,  that  Minos 
+
+was  the  King  which  established  the  lawes  :  and  Radaman-  Radaman- 
+
+thus  the  judge  and  preserver  of  them,  who  caused  the  same  thus. 
+
+also  to  be  kept  and  observed.     The  time  nowe  being  comen 
+
+about  for  payment  of  the  thirde  tribute,  when  they  came  to  The  thirde 
+
+compell  the  fathers  which  had  children  not  yet  maried,  to  ^^'^V^/i^' 
+
+geve  them  to  be  put  forth  to  take  their  chaunce  and  lotte  :  tribute 
+
+the  citizens  of  Athens  beganne  to  murmure  against  ^geus, 
+
+alledging  for  their  grieves,  that  he  who  onely  was  the  cause 
+
+of  all  this  evill,  was  onely  alone  exempted  from  this  griefe. 
+
+And  that  to  brins:  the  government  of  the  Realme,  to  fall 
+
+•  Til 
+
+into  the  handes  of  a  straunger  his  bastard  :  he  cared  not 
+
+though   they    were   bereft   of    all   their   naturall   children,  The  Atheni- 
+
+and  were  unnaturally  compelled  to  leave  and  forsake  them,  ^'^^/^^^^^^th 
+
+These  just  sorrowes  and  complaintes  of  the  fathers,  whose  their  children, 
+
+children  were  taken  from    them,  dyd  pearce  the  harte  of 
+
+Theseus,  who  willing  to  yelde  to  reason,  and  to  ronne  the 
+
+selfe  same  fortune  as  the  cittizens  dyd  :  willingly  offered  him  Theseus  offer- 
+
+selfe  to  be  sent  thither,  without  regarde  taking  to  his  happe  ^,^-'^T''xif^\-i 
+
+or  adventure.     For  which,  the  cittizens  greatly  esteemed  of  ^^^^  ^^^^ 
+
+his  corage  and  honorable  disposition,  and  dearely  loved  him  Creta. 
+
+for  the  good  affection,  he  seemed  to  beare  unto  the  comun- 
+
+altye.     But   ^geus   having   used    many    reasons   and    per- 
+
+swasions,  to  cause  him  to  turne,  and  staye  from  his  purpose, 
+
+and  perceyving  in  the  ende  there  was  no  remedye  but  he 
+
+woulde  goe :    he  then    drue  lottes  for  the   children  which  Lotts  drawen 
+
+should  goe  with  him.     Hellanicus   notwithstanding   dothe  ^"'^  ^^^h^?^^" 
+
+write,  that  they  were  not  those  of  the  cittie  which  drewe  ^^^^^^^  g^g^ 
+
+lottes  for  the  children  they  should  sende,  but  that  Minos 
+
+him  selfe  went  thither  in  persone  and  dyd  chuse  them,  as  he 
+
+chose  Theseus   the   first,  upon   conditions   agreed  betwene 
+
+them :  that  is  to  wit,  that  the  Athenians  shoulde  furnishe 
+
+them  with  a  shippe,  and  that  the  children  should  shippe  and 
+
+
+THESEUS 
+
+
+The  Atheni- 
+ans sent  their 
+children  into 
+Creta  in  a 
+shippe  with 
+a  blacks  sayle. 
+
+vEgeus  geveth 
+the  master  of 
+the  shippe  a 
+white  sayle,  to 
+signifie  the 
+safe  returne 
+of  Theseus. 
+
+
+Cybernesia 
+games. 
+
+
+Hiceteria 
+oflFering. 
+
+Theseus  tak- 
+eth  shippe 
+with  the  tri- 
+bute children, 
+the  sixt  of 
+Marche,  and 
+savleth  into 
+Creta, 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+imbarke  with  him,  carying  no  weapons  of  warre :  and  that 
+after  the  death  of  the  Minotaure,  this  tribute  should  cease. 
+Nowe  before  that  time,  there  was  never  any  hope  of  returne, 
+nor  of  safetie  of  their  children  :  therefore  the  Athenians  all- 
+wayes  sent  a  shippe  to  convey  their  children  with  a  blacke 
+sayle,  in  token  of  assured  losse.  Nevertheles  Theseus  put- 
+ting his  father  in  good  hope  of  him,  being  of  a  good  corage, 
+and  promising  boldly  that  he  woulde  sett  upon  this  Mino- 
+taure :  ^geus  gave  unto  the  master  of  the  shippe  a  white 
+sayle,  commaunding  him  that  at  his  returne  he  should  put 
+out  the  white  sayle  if  his  sonne  had  escaped,  if  not,  that  then 
+he  should  sett  up  the  blacke  sayle,  to  shewe  him  a  farre  of 
+his  unlucky  and  unfortunate  chaunce.  Simonides  notwith- 
+standing doeth  saye,  that  this  sayle  which  ^geus  gave  to 
+the  master,  was  not  white,  but  redde,  dyed  in  graine,  and  of 
+the  culler  of  scarlett :  and  that  he  gave  it  him  to  signifie  a 
+farre  of,  their  deliverie  and  safety.  This  master  was  called 
+Phereclus  Amarsiadas,  as  Simonides  sayeth.  But  Philo- 
+chorus  writeth,  that  Scirus  the  Salaminian  gave  to  Theseus 
+a  master  called  Nausitheus,  and  another  marriner  to  tackle 
+the  sayles,  who  was  called  Phseas  :  bicause  the  Athenians  at 
+that  time  were  not  greatly  practised  to  the  sea.  And  this 
+did  Scirus,  for  that  one  of  the  children  on  whom  the  lott 
+fell  was  his  nephewe :  and  thus  muche  the  chappells  doe 
+testifie,  which  Theseus  buylt  afterwardes  in  honoui*  of  Nausi- 
+theus, and  of  Phaeas,  in  the  village  of  Phalerus,  joyning  to 
+the  temple  of  Scirus.  And  it  is  sayed  moreover,  that  the 
+feaste  which  they  call  Cybernesia,  that  is  to  saye,  the  feaste 
+of  Patrons  of  the  shippes,  is  celebrated  in  honour  of  them. 
+Nowe  after  the  lotts  were  drawen,  Theseus  taking  with  him 
+the  children  allotted  for  the  tribute,  went  from  the  pallace 
+to  the  temple  called  Delphinion,  to  offer  up  to  Apollo  for 
+him  and  for  them,  an  offering  of  supplication  which  they  call 
+Hiceteria :  which  was  an  olyve  boughe  hallowed,  wreathed 
+about  with  white  wolle.  After  he  had  made  his  prayer,  he 
+went  downe  to  the  sea  side  to  imbarke,  the  sixt  daye  of  the 
+moneth  of  Marche  :  on  which  daye  at  this  present  time  they 
+doe  sende  their  younge  girles  to  the  same  temple  of  Del- 
+phinion, there  to  make  their  prayers  and  petitions  to  the 
+44 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+goddes.     But  some  saye,  that  the  oracle  of  Apollo  in  the  THESEUS 
+
+cittie  of  Delphes  had  aunswered  him,  that  he  should  take 
+Venus  for  his  guyde,  and  that  he  should  call  upon  her  to 
+conduct  him  in  his  voyage :  for  which  cause  he  dyd  sacrifice 
+a  goate  unto  her  upon  the  sea  side,  which  was  founde  sodainly 
+turned  into  a  ramme,  and  that  herefore  they  surnamed  this 
+goddesse  Epitragia,  as  one  would  saye,  the  goddesse  of  the  Venus  Epi- 
+ramme.     Furthermore,  after  he  was   arrived    in   Creta,  he  tragic, 
+slewe  there  the  Minotaure  (as  the  most  parte  of  auncient  Theseus  slewe 
+authors  doe  write)  by  the  meanes  and  helpe  of  Ariadne  :  who  the  Mino- 
+beinff  fallen   in  fansie  with  him,  dyd  geve  him  a  clue  of  *^"^^  "V 
+threede,  by  the  helpe  whereof  she  taught  him,  howe  he  might  Ariadne  kinff 
+easely  winde  out  of  the  turnings  and  cranckes  of  the  Laby-  Minoes 
+rinthe.     And  they  saye,  that  having  killed  this  Minotaure,  daughter, 
+he  returned  backe  againe  the  same  Avaye  he  went,  bringing  Theseus  re- 
+with  him  those  other  younge  children  of  Athens,  whom  with  turne  out  of 
+Ariadne  also  he  caried  after wardes  awaye.    Pherecides  sayeth  '-^^^'•^* 
+moreover,  that  he  brake  the  keeles  or  bottomes  of  all  the 
+shippes  of  Creta,  bicause  they  should  not  sodainely  sett  out 
+after  them.     And  Demon  writeth,  that  Taurus  (the  captaine  Taurus  over- 
+of  Minos)  was  killed  in  a  fight  by  Theseus,  even  in  the  very  come  of  The- 
+haven  mowthe  as  they  were  readye  to  shippe  awaye,  and  ^^"^'  ^^^^  ^ 
+hoyse  up  sayle.    Yet  Philochorus  reporteth,  that  king  IVIinos 
+having  sett  up  the  games,  as  he  was  wont  to  doe  yerely  in 
+the  honour  and  memorye  of  his  sonne,  every  one  beganne  to 
+envye  captaine  Taurus,  bicause  they  ever  looked  that  he 
+should  carye  awaye  the  game  and  victorie,  as  he  had  done 
+other  yeres  before  :  over  and  that,  his  authoritye  got  him 
+much  ill  will  and  envye,  bicause  he  was  proude  and  stately, 
+and  had  in  suspition  that  he  was  great  with  Queene  Pasi-  Taurus  sus- 
+phae.    Wherefore  when  Theseus  required  he  might  encounter  pected  with 
+with  Taurus,  Minos  easely  graunted  it.    And  being  a  solemne  P^^^P^^.^j 
+custome  in  Creta  that  the  women  shoulde  be  present,  to  see  ^^j^g  ' 
+these  open  sportes  and  sights,  Ariadne  being  at  these  games 
+amongest  the  rest,  fell  further  in  love  with  Theseus,  seeing  How  Ariadne 
+him  so  goodly  a  persone,  so  stronge,  and  invincible  in  wrest-  fell  in  love 
+ling,  that  he  farre  exceeded   all   that  wrestled   there  that  ^^^^h  Theseus, 
+daye.     King  Minos  was  so  glad  that  he  had  taken  awaye  the 
+honour  from  captaine  Taurus,  that  he  sent  him  home  francke 
+
+45 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+THESEUS  and  free  into  his  countrye,  rendring  to  him  all  the  other 
+Minos  send-  prisoners  of  Athens :  and  for  his  sake,  clearely  released  and 
+eth  Theseus     forgave  the  cittie  of  Athens  the  tribute,  which  they  should 
+
+home  with  his  j^g^yg  payed  him  yerely.     Howbeit  Clidemus  searchins;  out 
+
+prisoners  and  ^    .       .  ^         *^         ,  .1 
+
+releaseth'the    ^^  beginning  of  these  things   to   thutmost,  reciteth  them 
+
+Athenians  of    very  particularly,  and  after  another  sorte.     For  he  sayeth, 
+
+their  tribute,    about  that  time  there  was  a  generall  restraint  through  out 
+
+A  marine         all  Grece,  restrayning  all  manner  of  people  to  beare  sayle  in 
+
+lawe.  Qj^y  vessell  or  bottome,  wherein  there  were  above  five  per- 
+
+sones,  except  only  lason,  who  was  chosen  captaine  of  the 
+
+great  shippe    Argus,  and   had   commission  to   sayle   every 
+
+where,  to  chase  and  drive  awaye  rovers  and  pyrates,  and  to 
+
+Daedalus  scoure  the  seas  through  out.     About  this  time,  Daedalus 
+
+flight.  being  fled  from  Creta  to  Athens  in  a  litle  barke :    Minos 
+
+contrarie  to  this  restraint,  woulde  needes  followe  him  with  a 
+
+fleete  of  divers  vessels  with   owers,  who  being  by  force  of 
+
+King  Minos     weather  driven  to  the  coaste  of  Sicile,  fortuned  to  dye  there, 
+
+dyed  in  Sicile.  Afterwardes    his    sonne    Deucalion,    being    marvellously   of- 
+
+Deucalion        fended  with  the  Athenians,  sent  to  summone  them  to  deliver 
+
+king  Minoes     Dagdalus   unto   him,  or  els   he  woulde  put  the  children  to 
+
+Sonne  sent  to   death,  which  were  delivered  to  his  father  for  hostages.     But 
+
+^T  D-  ^    Theseus  excused  him  selfe,  and  sayed  he  coulde  not  forsake 
+
+dalus.  Daedalus,  considering  he  was  his  neere  kynseman,  being  his 
+
+cosin  germaine,  for  he  was  the  sonne  of  Merope,  the  daughter 
+
+of  Erichtheus.     Howbeit  by  and  by  he  caused  many  vessels 
+
+secretly  to  be  made,  parte  of  them  within  Attica  selfe  in  the 
+
+village  of  Thymetades,  farre  from  any  highe  wayes :    and 
+
+parte  of  them  in  the  cittie  of  Troezen,  by  the  sufferance  of 
+
+Pitheus  his  grandfather,  to  the  ende  his  purpose  shoulde  be 
+
+kept  the  secretly er.     Afterwardes  when  all  his  shippes  were 
+
+readye,  and  rygged  out,  he  tooke  sea  before  the  Cretans  had 
+
+any  knowledge  of  it :  in  so  much  as  when  they  sawe  them 
+
+a  farre  of,  they  dyd  take  them  for  the  barkes  of  their  friends. 
+
+Theseus  sayl-  Theseus  landed  without  resistaunce,  and  tooke  the  haven. 
+
+ed  into  Creta,  Xhen  having  Daedalus,  and  other  banished  Cretans  for  guydes, 
+
+th    ^t?r  of     ^^  entred  the  cittie  selfe  of  Gnosus,  where  he  slewe  Deucalion 
+
+Gnosus  and     in  a  fight  before  the  gates  of  the  Labyrinthe,  with  all  his 
+
+slewe  Deuca-    garde  and  officers  about  him.     By  this  meanes  the  kingdome 
+
+lion-  of  Creta  fell  by  inheritance  into  the  handes  of  his  sister 
+
+46 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+Ariadne.     Theseus  made  league  with  her,  and  caryed  away  THESEUS 
+the  yong  children  of  Athens,  which  were  kept  as  hostages,  and 
+concluded  peace  and  amytie  betweene  the  Athenians  and  the 
+Cretans  :  who  promised,  and  sware,  they  woulde  never  make 
+warres  against  them.    They  reporte  many  other  things  also 
+touching  this  matter,  and  specially  of  Ariadne  :  but  there  is  Divers  opin- 
+no  trothe  nor  certeintie  in  it.     For  some  saye,  that  Ariadne  ^^^^  of 
+honge  her  selfe  for  sorowe,  when  she  sawe  that  Theseus  had  -^"^^"^• 
+caste  her   of.     Other  write,  that  she  was   transported    by 
+mariners  into  the  He  of  Naxos,  where  she  was  maryed  unto 
+CEnarus,  the  priest  of  Bacchus  :  and  they  thincke  that  The- 
+seus lefte  her,  bicause  he  was  in  love  with  another,  as  by 
+these  verses  shoulde  appeare. 
+
+^gles  the  Nyniphe,  was  loved  of  Theseus, 
+which  was  the  daughter  of  Panopeus. 
+
+Hereas  the  Megarian  sayeth,  that  these  two  verses  in  olde 
+time  were  among  the  verses  of  the  Poet  Hesiodus,  howbeit 
+Pisistratus  tooke  them  awaye  :  as  he  dyd  in  like  manner  adde 
+these  other  here  in  the  description  of  the  helles  in  Homer,  to 
+gratifie  the  Athenians. 
+
+Bolde  Theseus^  and  Pirithous  stowte, 
+
+descended  both,  from  godds  immortall  race. 
+Triumphing  still,  this  wearie  worlde  aboute 
+
+in  feats  of  armes,  and  many  a  comly  grace. 
+
+Other  holde  opinion,  that  Ariadne  had  two  children  by 
+Theseus  :  the  one  of  them  was  named  (Enopion,  and  the  (Enopion,  and 
+other   Staphylus.      Thus   amongest    others    the    Poet    Ion  Staphylus 
+writeth  it,  who  was  borne  in  the  He  of  Chio,  and  speaking  ^^^^s^us 
+of  his  cittie,  he  sayeth  thus  : 
+
+
+sonnes. 
+
+
+CEnopiou  which  was  the  sonne,  of  worthy  Theseus 
+did  cause  men  buylde,  this  stately  towne  which 
+nowe  triumpheth  thus. 
+
+Nowe  what  things  are  founde  seemely  in  Poets  fables, 
+there  is  none  but  dothe  in  manner  synge  them.  But  one 
+Paenon  borne  in  the  cittie  of  Amathunta,  reciteth  this  cleane 
+after  another  sorte,  and  contrarie  to  all  other :  saying,  that 
+Theseus  by  tempest  was    driven  with    the    He  of  Cyprus, 
+
+47 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+
+THESEUS 
+
+Theseus  leav- 
+eth  Ariadne 
+in  Cyprus. 
+
+
+Ariadne  dieth 
+with  childe  in 
+Cyprus. 
+
+
+The  cere- 
+monie  of  the 
+sacrifice  done 
+to  Ariadne  in 
+Cyprus. 
+
+Venus 
+Ariadne. 
+
+Two  Minoes 
+and  two 
+Ariadnees. 
+
+
+Corcyna 
+Ariadnes 
+
+
+Theseus  re- 
+turneth  out  of 
+Creta  into  the 
+lie  of  Delos. 
+
+
+having  with  him  Ariadne,  which  was  great  with  childe,  and 
+so  sore  sea  sycke,  that  she  was  not  able  to  abide  it.  In  so 
+muche  as  he  was  forced  to  put  her  a  lande,  and  him  selfe 
+afterwards  returning  abourde  hoping  to  save  his  shippe 
+against  the  storme,  was  forthwith  compelled  to  loofe  into 
+the  sea.  The  women  of  the  countrye  dyd  curteously  receyve 
+and  intreate  Ariadne  :  and  to  comforte  her  againe,  (for  she 
+was  marveilously  oute  of  harte,  to  see  she  was  thus  forsaken) 
+they  counterfeated  letters,  as  if  Theseus  had  wrytten  them 
+to  her.  And  when  her  groninge  time  was  come,  and  she  to 
+be  layed,  they  did  their  best  by  all  possible  meanes  to  save 
+her:  but  she  dyed  notwithstanding  in  labour,  and  could 
+never  be  delivered.  So  she  was  honorably  buried  by  the 
+Ladies  of  Cyprus.  Theseus  not  long  after  returned  thither 
+againe,  who  tooke  her  death  marvelous  heavily,  and  left 
+money  with  the  inhabitantes  of  the  countrie,  to  sacrifice 
+unto  her  yearely  :  and  for  memorie  of  her,  he  caused  two  litle 
+images  to  be  molten,  the  one  of  copper,  and  the  other  of 
+silver,  which  he  dedicated  unto  her.  This  sacrifice  is  done 
+the  seconde  day  of  September,  on  which  they  doe  yet  observe 
+this  ceremonie :  they  doe  lay  a  young  childe  upon  a  bed, 
+which  pitiefully  cryeth  and  lamenteth,  as  women  travellinge 
+with  childe.  They  saye  also,  that  the  Amathusians  doe  yet 
+call  the  grove  where  her  tombe  is  sette  up,  the  wodde  of 
+Venus  Ariadne.  And  yet  there  are  of  the  Naxians,  that 
+reporte  this  otherwise :  saying,  there  were  two  Minoes,  and 
+two  Ariadnees,  whereof  the  one  was  maried  to  Bacchus 
+in  the  lie  of  Naxos,  of  whome  Staphylus  was  borne  :  and  the 
+other  the  youngest,  was  ravished  and  caried  away  by  The- 
+seus, who  afterwardes  forsooke  her,  and  she  came  into  the  He 
+of  Naxos  with  her  nurce,  called  Corcyna,  whose  grave  they 
+doe  shewe  yet  to  this  day.  This  seconde  Ariadne  dyed 
+there  also,  but  she  had  no  such  honour  done  to  her  after  her 
+death,  as  to  the  first  was  geven.  For  they  celebrate  the 
+feaste  of  the  first  with  all  joye  and  mirthe  :  where  the 
+sacrifices  done  in  memorie  of  the  seconde,  be  mingled  with 
+mourninge  and  sorowe.  Theseus  then  departing  from  the 
+He  of  Creta,  arrived  in  the  He  of  Delos,  where  he  did  sacri- 
+fice in  the  temple  of  Apollo,  and  gave  there  a  litle  image  of 
+48 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+Venus,  the  which  he  had   gotten    of  Ariadne.     Then  with  THESEUS 
+the  other  young  boyes  that  he  had  delivered,  he  daunced  a 
+kinde  of  daunce,  which  the  Dehans  keepe  to  this  day,  as 
+they  say :   in  which  there  are  many  turnes  and  returnes, 
+much  after   the   turninges  of  the    Labyrinthe.      And    the 
+Delians  call  this  manner  of  daunce,  the  crane,  as  Dicoearcus  Theseus 
+sayeth.      And    Theseus  daunced    it   first  about   the   altar,  daunce  called 
+which  is  called  Ceraton,  that  is  to  saye,  hornestaffe :  bicause  t^^  Crane, 
+it  is  made  and  builded  of  homes  onely,  all  on  the  left  hande 
+well  and  curiously  sette  together  without  any  other  bindinge. 
+It  is  sayed  also  that  he  made  a  game  in  this  He  of  Delos, 
+in  which  at  the  first  was  geven  to  him  that  overcame,  a 
+braunche  of  palme  for  reward  of  victorie.     But  when  they  Palme  a  token 
+drewe  neere  the  coast  of  Attica,  they  were  so  j  oy full,  he  and  ^^  victory, 
+his  master,  that  they  forgate  to  set  up  their  white  sayle,  by  Theseus  mas- 
+which  they  shoulde  have  geven  knowledge  of  their  healthe  ter  of  his 
+and  safetie  to  iEgeus.     Who  seeinge  the  blacke  savle  a  farre  ^"^PP^  formate 
+
+t%         »  •  .  to  spt  out  tnP 
+
+of,  being  out  of  all  hope  evermore  to  see  his  sonne  againe,  ^-i^j^g  savle 
+tooke  such  a  griefe  at  his  harte,  that  he  threw  him  selfe 
+headlong  from  the  top  of  a  clyff'e,  and  killed  him  selfe.     So  ^geus  death, 
+soone  as  Theseus  was  arrived  at  the  porte  named  Phalerus,  Theseus  arriv- 
+he  performed  the  sacrifices  which  he  had  vowed  to  the  goddes  eth  safe  with 
+at  his  departure :  and  sent  an  Herauld  of  his  before  unto  the  tribute 
+the  city,  to  carie  newes  of  his  safe  arrivall.     The  Heraulde  ^.j^g  haven  of 
+founde  many  of  the  citie  mourning  the  death  of  king  JEgeus.  Phalerus. 
+Many  other  received  him  with  great  joy,  as  may  be  supposed. 
+They  would   have   crowned    him   also  with    a  garlande  of 
+flowers,  for  that  he  had  brought  so  good  tidinges,  that  the 
+children  of  the  citie  were  returned  in  safetie.     The  Heraulde 
+was  content  to  take  the  garlande,  yet  would  he  not  in  any 
+wise  put  it  on  his  head,  but  did  winde  it  about  his  Heraulds 
+rodde  he  bare  in  his  hande,  and  so  returneth  foorthwith  to  The  Herauld 
+the  sea,  where  Theseus  made  his  sacrifices.     Who  perceiv-  bare  a  rodde 
+inge  they  were  not  yet  done,  did  refuse  to  enter  into  the  ^^  "^^  hand, 
+temple,  and  stayed  without  for  troubling  of  the  sacrifices. 
+After wardes  all  ceremonies  finished,  he  went  in  and  tolde  him 
+the  newes  of  his  fathers  death.     Then  he  and  his  company 
+mourning  for  sorowe,  hasted  with  speede  towardes  the  citie. 
+And  this  is  the  cause,  why  to  this  day,  at  the  feast  called 
+G  49 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+
+THESEUS 
+The  feast 
+Oscophoria. 
+
+
+October 
+called  Pya- 
+nepsion,  in 
+the  Atticau 
+tongue. 
+
+
+Herod,  of  Ire- 
+sione  in  the 
+life  of  Homer, 
+and  Suidas. 
+
+
+Theseus  went 
+into  Creta 
+with  the  tri- 
+bute children, 
+in  the  galliot 
+of  30.  owers. 
+
+Disputation 
+about  in- 
+crease. 
+
+
+Oscophoria  (as  who  woulde  say  at  the  feast  of  boughes) 
+the  Herauld  hath  not  his  heade  but  his  rod  onely  crowned 
+with  flowers,  and  why  the  assistantes  also  after  the  sacrifice 
+done,  doe  make  suche  cryes  and  exclamations  :  Ele,  leuf^  iou, 
+iou :  whereof  the  first  is  the  crye  and  voyce  they  commonly 
+use  one  to  an  other  to  make  haste,  or  else  it  is  the  foote  of 
+some  songe  of  triumphe  :  and  the  other  is  the  crye  and  voyce 
+of  men  as  it  were  in  feare  and  trouble.  After  he  had  ended 
+the  obsequies  and  funeralls  for  his  father,  he  performed  also 
+his  sacrifices  unto  Apollo,  which  he  had  vowed  the  seventh 
+day  of  the  moneth  of  October,  on  which  they  arrived  at  their 
+returne  into  the  citie  of  Athens.  Even  so  the  custome  which 
+they  use  at  this  day,  to  seeth  all  manner  of  pulse,  commeth 
+of  this :  that  those  which  then  returned  with  Theseus,  did 
+seeth  in  a  great  brasse  potte  all  the  remaine  of  their  pro- 
+vision, and  therewith  made  good  chere  together.  Even  in 
+such  sorte  as  this,  came  up  the  custome  to  carie  a  braunch  of 
+olyve,  wreathed  about  with  wolle,  which  they  call  Iresione  : 
+bicause  at  that  time  they  caried  boughes  of  supplication,  as 
+we  have  told  ye  before.  About  which  they  hang  all  sortes 
+of  fruites  :  for  then  barrennesse  did  cease,  as  the  verses  they 
+sang  afterwards  did  witnesse. 
+
+Bring  him  good  bread,  that  is  of  savry  tast, 
+
+with  pleasaunt  figges,  and  droppes  of  dulcet  mell. 
+
+Then  sowple  oyle,  his  body  for  to  bast, 
+
+and  pure  good  wine,  to  make  him  sleepe  full  well. 
+
+Howbeit  there  are  some  which  will  say,  that  these  verses 
+were  made  for  the  Heraclides,  that  is  to  say,  those  that 
+descended  from  Hercules  :  which  flying  for  their  safety  and 
+succour  unto  the  Athenians,  were  entertained  and  much 
+made  of  by  them  for  a  time.  But  the  most  parte  holde 
+opinion,  they  were  made  upon  the  occasion  aforesaid.  The 
+vessell  in  which  Theseus  went  and  returned,  was  a  galliot  of 
+thirtie  owers,  which  the  Athenians  kept  untill  the  time  of 
+Demetrius  the  Phalerian,  alwayes  taking  away  the  olde 
+peeces  of  wodde  that  were  rotten,  and  ever  renewing  them 
+with  new  in  their  places.  So  that  ever  since,  in  the  disputa- 
+tions of  the  Philosophers,  touching  things  that  increase,  to 
+
+50 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+wit,  whether  they  remaine  alwayes  one,  or  else  they  be  made  THESEUS 
+others  :  this  galliot  was  alwayes  brought  in  for  an  example  The  galliot 
+of  doubt.  For  some  mainteined,  that  it  was  still  one  vessell :  alleaged  for  a 
+others  to  the  contrarie  defended  it  was  not  so.  And  they  ^10""^. 
+holde  opinion  also,  that  the  feast  of  boughes  which  is  cele- 
+brated at  Athens  at  this  time,  was  then  first  of  all  instituted 
+by  Theseus.  It  is  sayed  moreover,  that  he  did  not  carye  all 
+the  wenches  upon  whome  the  lotts  did  fall,  but  chose  two 
+fayer  young  boyes,  whose  faces  were  swete  and  delicate  as 
+maydens  be,  that  otherwise  were  hardie,  and  quicke  sprighted. 
+But  he  made  them  so  oft  bathe  them  selves  in  whotte  bathes, 
+and  kepe  them  in  from  the  heate  of  the  sunne,  and  so  many 
+times  to  washe,  anointe,  and  rubbe  them  selves  with  oyles 
+which  serve  to  supple  and  smoothe  their  skinnes,  to  keepe 
+freshe  and  fayer  their  colour,  to  make  yellowe  and  bright 
+their  heares :  and  withall  did  teache  them  so  to  counterfeate 
+their  speache,  countenaunce  and  facion  of  young  maydes, 
+that  they  seemed  to  be  like  them,  rather  then  young  boyes. 
+For  there  was  no  manner  of  difference  to  be  perceived  out- 
+wardly, and  he  mingled  them  with  the  girles,  without  the 
+knowledge  of  any  man.  Afterwards  when  he  was  returned, 
+he  made  a  procession,  in  which  both  he  and  the  other  young 
+boyes,  were  apparelled  then  as  they  be  nowe,  which  carie 
+boughes  on  the  day  of  the  feast  in  their  handes.  They  carie 
+them  in  the  honor  of  Bacchus  and  Ariadne,  following  the 
+fable  that  is  tolde  of  them  :  or  rather  bicause  they  returned 
+home  just,  at  the  time  and  season,  when  they  gather  the 
+fruite  of  those  trees.  There  are  women  which  they  call 
+Deipnophores,  that  is  to  say,  supper  caryers,  which  are  assis- 
+tantes  to  the  sacrifice  done  that  day,  in  representing  the 
+mothers  of  those,  upon  whom  the  lottes  did  fall,  bicause 
+they  in  like  sorte  brought  them  both  meate  and  drinke. 
+There  they  tell  tales,  for  so  did  their  mothers  tattle  to  their 
+children,  to  comforte  and  encorage  them.  All  these  parti- 
+cularities were  written  by  Demon  the  historiographer.  There 
+was  moreover  a  place  chosen  out  to  build  him  a  temple  in, 
+and  he  him  selfe  ordained,  that  those  houses  which  had 
+payed  tribute  before  unto  the  king  of  Creta,  should  nowe 
+yearely   thenceforth    become    contributories    towardes    the 
+
+51 
+
+
+m 
+
+
+THESEUS 
+
+Theseus 
+thankefullnes 
+to  the  Phyta- 
+lides  who  were 
+the  first  that 
+feasted  him  in 
+their  houses. 
+
+Theseus 
+brought  the 
+inhabitants  of 
+the  contrie 
+of  Attica  into 
+one  city. 
+
+
+Asty,  the 
+towne  house 
+of  the  Athe- 
+
+
+The  feastes 
+Panathenaea, 
+and  Metoecia. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE   NOBLE 
+
+charges  of  a  solemne  sacrifice,  which  shoulde  be  done  in  the 
+honor  of  him  :  and  he  did  assigne  the  order  and  administra- 
+tion of  the  same,  unto  the  house  of  the  Phytalides,  in  recom- 
+pence  of  the  curtesie  which  they  showed  him  when  he  arrived. 
+Furthermore,  after  the  death  of  his  father  ^Egeus,  he  under- 
+tooke  a  marvelous  great  enterprise.  For  he  brought  all  the 
+inhabitantes  of  the  whole  province  of  Attica,  to  be  within 
+the  citie  of  Athens,  and  made  them  all  one  corporation, 
+which  were  before  dispersed  into  diverse  villages,  and  by 
+reason  thereof  were  very  hard  to  be  assembled  together,  when 
+occasion  was  offered  to  establish  any  order  concerning  the 
+common  state.  Many  times  also  they  were  at  variance  to- 
+gether, and  by  the  eares,  making  warres  one  upon  an  other. 
+But  Theseus  tooke  the  paines  to  goe  from  village  to  village, 
+and  from  family,  to  familie,  to  let  them  understand  the 
+reasons  why  they  should  consent  unto  it.  So  he  found  the 
+poore  people  and  private  men,  ready  to  obey  and  foUowe  his 
+will :  but  the  riche,  and  such  as  had  authoritye  in  every 
+village,  all  against  it.  Nevertheles  he  wanne  them,  promis- 
+ing that  it  should  be  a  common  wealth,  and  not  subject  to 
+the  power  of  any  sole  prince,  but  rather  a  populer  state.  In 
+which  he  woulde  only  reserve  to  him  selfe  the  charge  of  the 
+warres,  and  the  preservation  of  the  lawes :  for  the  rest,  he 
+was  content  that  every  citizen  in  all  and  for  all  should  beare 
+a  like  swaye  and  authoritye.  So  there  were  some  that  will- 
+ingly graunted  thereto.  Other  who  had  no  liking  thereof, 
+velded  notwithstanding  for  feare  of  his  displeasure  and  power 
+which  then  was  very  great.  So  they  thought  it  better  to 
+consent  with  good  will,  unto  that  he  required  :  then  to  tary 
+his  forcible  compulsion.  Then  he  caused  all  the  places 
+where  justice  was  ministred,  and  all  their  halles  of  assembly 
+to  be  overthrowen  and  pulled  downe.  He  removed  straight 
+all  j  udges  and  officers,  and  built  a  towne  house,  and  a  coun- 
+saill  hall,  in  the  place  where  the  cittie  now  standeth,  which 
+the  Athenians  call  Asty,  but  he  called  the  whole  corporation 
+of  them,  Athens.  Afterwardes  he  instituted  the  greate  feast 
+and  common  sacrifice  for  all  of  the  countrye  of  Attica,  which 
+they  call  Panathenaea.  Then  he  ordeined  another  feaste  also 
+upon  the  sixtenth  daye  of  the  raoneth  of  June,  for  all  strangers 
+52 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+which  should  come  to  dwell  in  Athens,  which  is  called  Metoe-  THESEUS 
+cia  and  is  kept  even  to  this  daye.     That  done,  he  gave  over 
+his  regall  power  according  to  his  promise,  and  beganne  to  sett  Theseus  re- 
+up  an  estate  or  policye  of  a  common  wealth,  beginning  first  f'F"^*^  ^'^ 
+with  the  service  of  the  goddes.     To  knowe  the  good  successe    '",^  "'"ke'th 
+of  his  enterprise,  he  sent  at  the  very  beginning  to  the  oracle  Athens  a  com- 
+of  Apollo  in  Delphes,  to  enquire  of  the  fortune  of  this  cittye :  mon  wealth. 
+from  whence  this  aunswer  was  brought  unto  him  : 
+
+O  thou  which  arte^  the  sonue  of  iEgeus,  ^^^  oracle  or 
+
+begott  by  him,  on  Pitheus  daughter  deare.  Apollo  at 
+
+The  mightie  love,  my  father  glorious,  Delphes. 
+
+by  his  decree,  hath  sayed  there  shall  appeare, 
+
+a  fatall  ende,  of  every  cittie  here. 
+^V^hich  ende  he  will,  shall  also  come  adowne, 
+
+within  the  walles,  of  this  thy  stately  towne. 
+
+Therefore  shewe  thou,  a  valliant  constant  minde, 
+
+and  let  no  care,  nor  carke  thy  harte  displease. 
+For  like  unto  a  bladder  blowen  with  winde 
+
+thou  shalt  be  tost,  upon  the  surging  seas. 
+
+Yet  lett  no  dynte,  of  dolours  the  disease. 
+For  why.-*  thou  shalt,  nor  perishe  nor  decaye, 
+
+nor  be  orecome,  nor  yet  be  cast  awaye. 
+
+It  is  founde  written  also  that  Sibylla  afterwardes  gave  out 
+such  a  like  oracle  over  the  cittye  of  Athens. 
+
+The  bladder  blowen  maye  flete  upon  the  fludde, 
+but  cannot  synke,  nor  sticke  in  filthie  mudde. 
+
+Moreover,    bicause   he  woulde  further  yet   augment   his 
+people,   and  enlarge  his  cittie,  he   entised    many  to   come 
+and  dwell  there,  by  offering  them  the  selfe  same  freedome 
+and  priviledges,  which  the  naturall  borne  citizens  had.     So 
+that  many  judge,  that  these  wordes  which  are  in  use  at  this 
+daye  in  Athens,  when  any  open  proclamation  is  made,  All 
+people.  Come  ye  hither  :  be  the  selfe  same  which  Theseus  then 
+caused  to  be  proclaymed,  when  he  in  that  sorte  dyd  gather  Theseus  mak- 
+a  people  together  of  all  nations.    Yet  for  all  that,  he  suffered  ^f  /f  fa^nd^ 
+not  the  great  multitude  that  came  thither  tagge  and  ragge,  degreerin"his 
+to  be  without  distinction  of  degrees  and  orders.    For  he  first  common 
+divided  the  noble  men,   from    husbandmen   and   artificers,  weale. 
+
+53 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+THESEUS  appointing  the  noblemen  as  judges  and  magistrates  to  judge 
+
+upon  matters  of  Religion,  and  touching  the  service  of  the 
+
+godds  :  and  of  them  also  he  dyd  chuse  rulers,  to  beare  civill 
+
+office  in  the  common  weale,  to  determine  the  lawe,  and  to 
+
+tell  all  holy  and  divine  things.     By  this  meanes  he  made  the 
+
+noble  men  and  the  two  other  estates  equall  in  voyce.     And 
+
+as  the  noblemen  dyd  passe  the  other  in  honour  :  even  so  the 
+
+artificers  exceeded  them  in  number,  and  the  husbandmen 
+
+them  in  profit.     Nowe  that  Theseus  was  the  first  who  of  all 
+
+Theseus  the      others  yelded  to  have  a  common  weale  or  populer  estate  (as 
+
+first  that  gave  Aristotle  sayeth)  and  dyd  geve  over  his  regall  power  :  Homer 
+
+over  regall       ggjf  semeth  to  testifie  it,  in  numbring  the  shippes  which  were 
+
+framed  rSopu-  ^"   ^^^   Grsecians   armie  before  the  cittie  of  Troia.      For 
+
+ler  state.  amongest  all  the  Graecians,  he  only  calleth  the  Athenians 
+
+people.     Moreover  Theseus  coyned  money,  which  he  marked 
+
+An  oxe  stamp-  with  the  stampe  of  an  oxe,  in  memorye  of  the  buUe  of  Mara- 
+
+ed  in  Theseus  thon,  or  of  Taurus  the  captaine  of  Minos,  or  els  to  provoke 
+
+coyne.  j^jg  citizens  to  geve  them  selves  to  labour.     They  saye  also 
+
+Hecatom-         that  of  this  money  they  were  since  called  Hecatomboeon, 
+
+boeon,  Deca-    and  Decabceon,  which  signifieth  worth  a  hundred  oxen,  and 
+
+boeon.  worth    tenne   oxen.      Furthermore   having   joined    all   the 
+
+territorie  of  the  cittie  of  Megara,  unto  the  countrie  of  Attica, 
+
+he  caused  that  notable  foure  square  piller  to  be   sett  up 
+
+for  their  confines  within  the  straight  of  Peloponnesus,  and 
+
+engraved  thereuppon  this  superscription,  that  declareth  the 
+
+separation  of  both  the  countries  which  confine  there  together. 
+
+The  superscription  is  this. 
+
+Where  Titan  doth  beginne,  his  beames  for  to  displaye 
+even  that  waye  stands  lonia^  in  fertile  wise  allwaye  : 
+
+And  where  againe  he  goeth^  a  downe  to  take  his  rest, 
+there  stands  Peloponnesus  lande,  for  there  I  compt  it  west. 
+
+It  was  he  also  which  made  the  games  called  Isthmia,  after 
+Olympia.  the  imitation  of  Hercules,  to  the  ende  that  as  the  Grecians 
+dyd  celebrate  the  feast  of  games  called  Olympia,  in  the 
+Theseus  erect-  honour  of  lupiter,  by  Hercules  ordinance  :  so,  that  they 
+Isthmia  in  the  should  also  celebrate  the  games  called  Isthmia,  lay  his  order 
+honour  of  and  institution,  in  the  honour  of  Neptune.  For  those  that 
+Neptune.  were  done  in  the  straights  in  the  honour  of  Melicerta,  were 
+54 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+done  in  the  night,  and  had  rather  forme  of  sacrifice  or  of  a  THESEUS 
+mvsterie,  then  of  games  and  open  feast.     Yet  some  will  save, 
+that  these  games  of  Isthmia  were  instituted  in  the  honour 
+and  memorie  of  Sciron,  and  that  Theseus  ordained  them  in 
+satisfaction  of  his  death  :  bicause  he  was  his  cosin  germaine, 
+being  the  sonne  of  Canethus,  and  of  Heniocha  the  daughter 
+of  Pitheus.     Other  save  that  it  was  Sinnis  and  not  Sciron, 
+and  that  for  him  Theseus  made  these  games,  and  not  for  the 
+memorie  of  the  other.    Howsoever  it  was,  he  speciallv  willed 
+the  Corinthians,  that  they  should  geve  unto  those  that  came 
+from  Athens  to  see  their  games  of  Isthmia,  so  much  place  to 
+sit  downe  before  them  (in  the  most  honorable  parte  of  the 
+feast  place)  as  the  saile  of  their  shippe  should  cover,  in  the 
+which  they  came  from  Athens  :    thus   doe   Hellanicus  and 
+Andron  Halicamasseus  write  hereof.     Touching  the  vovage 
+he  made  by  the   sea    Major,  Philochorus,  and  some  other  Theseus  jor- 
+holde  opinion,  that  he  went  thither  with  Hercules  against  ^y^_  ^^^o  mare 
+the  Amazones  :  and  that  to  honour  his  valiantnes,  Hercules  -*^^Jor- 
+gave  him  Antiopa  the  Amazone.     But  the  more  parte  of 
+the  other  Historiographers,  namely  Hellanicus,  Pherecides, 
+and  Herodotus,  doe  write,  that  Theseus  went  thither  alone, 
+after  Hercules   voyage,  and  that   he  tooke   this    Amazone  Antiopa  the 
+prisoner,  which  is  likeliest  to  be  true.     For  we  doe  not  finde  Amazone 
+that  any  other  who  went  this  jomey  with  him,  had  taken  ^t^^*  ^,    ^ 
+any  Amazone  prisoner  besides  him    selfe.      Bion  also  the 
+Historiographer,  this  notwithstanding  sayeth,  that  he  brought 
+her  away  by  deceit  and  stealth.     For  the  Amazones  (saveth 
+he)  naturally  loving  men,  dyd  not  flie  at  all  when  thev  sawe 
+them  lande  in  their  countrye,  but  sente  them  presents,  and 
+that  Theseus   entised    her  to    come    into   his    shippe,   who 
+brought  him  a  present :  and  so  sone  as  she  was  aborde,  he 
+hoysed  his  sayle,  and  so  caried  her  awav.    Another  Historio- 
+grapher Menecrates,  who  wrote  the  historic  of  the  cittie  of 
+Nicea,  in  the  countrye  of  B}i:hinia,  saveth  :  that  Theseus 
+having  this  Amazone  Antiopa  with  him,  remained  a  certaine 
+time  upon  those  coasts,  and  amongest  other  he  had  in  his 
+companie  three  younger  brethem  of  Athens,  Euneus,  Thoas,  Solois  fell  in 
+and  Solois.     This  last,  Solois,  was  marveilouslv  in  love  'with  love  with 
+Antiopa,  and  never  be\\Tayed  it  to  any  of  his  other  com-  -■^tiopa. 
+
+55 
+
+
+Solois  drown- 
+ed him  selfe 
+for  love. 
+
+
+Pythopolis 
+built  by 
+Theseus, 
+
+Solois  fl. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+THESEUS  panions,  saving  unto  one  with  whom  he  was  most  familiar, 
+and  whom  he  trusted  best :  so  that  he  reported  this  matter 
+unto  Antiopa.  But  she  utterly  rejected  his  sute,  though 
+otherwise  she  handled  it  wisely  and  curteously,  and  dyd  not 
+complaine  to  Theseus  of  him.  Howbeit  the  younge  man 
+despairing  to  enjoy e  his  love,  tooke  it  so  inwardly,  that 
+desperately  he  lept  into  the  river,  and  drowned  him  selfe. 
+Which  when  Theseus  understoode,  and  the  cause  also  that 
+brought  him  to  this  desperation  and  ende  :  he  was  very 
+sorye,  and  angrie  also.  Whereupon  he  remembred  a  cer- 
+teine  oracle  of  Pythia,  by  whom  he  was  commaunded  to 
+buyld  a  cittie  in  that  place  in  a  straunge  countrye,  where 
+he  should  be  most  sorye,  and  that  he  should  leave  some  that 
+were  about  him  at  that  time,  to  governe  the  same.  For  this 
+cause  therefore  he  built  a  cittie  in  that  place,  which  he 
+named  Pythopolis,  bicause  he  liad  built  it  only  by  the  com- 
+maundement  of  the  Nunne  Pythia.  He  called  the  river  in 
+the  which  the  younge  man  was  drowned,  Solois,  in  memorye 
+of  him  :  and  left  his  two  brethern  for  his  deputies  and  as 
+governours  of  this  newe  cittie,  with  another  gentleman  of 
+Athens,  called  Hermus.  Hereof  it  commeth,  that  at  this 
+daye  the  Pythopolitans  call  a  certen  place  of  their  cittie, 
+Hermus  house.  But  they  fayle  in  the  accent,  by  putting  it 
+upon  the  last  syllable  :  for  in  pronouncing  it  so,  Hermu 
+signifieth  Mercuric.  By  this  meanes  they  doe  transferre 
+the  honour  due  to  the  memorie  of  Hermus,  unto  the  god 
+Mercuric.  Now  heare  what  was  the  occasion  of  the  warres  of 
+the  Amazones,  which  me  thinckes  was  not  a  matter  of  small 
+moment,  nor  an  enterprise  of  a  woman.  For  they  had  not 
+placed  their  campe  within  the  very  cittie  of  Athens,  nor  had 
+not  fought  in  tlie  very  place  it  selfe  (called  Pnyce)  adjoyning 
+to  the  temple  of  the  Muses,  if  they  had  not  first  conquered 
+or  subdued  all  the  countrye  thereabouts  :  neither  had  they 
+all  comen  at  the  first,  so  valiantly  to  assaile  the  cittie  of 
+Athens.  Now,  whether  they  came  by  lande  from  so  farre  a 
+countrye,  or  that  they  passed  over  an  arme  of  the  sea,  which 
+is  called  Bosphorus  Cimmericus,  being  frosen  as  Hellanicus 
+sayeth  :  it  is  hardely  to  be  credited.  But  that  they  camped 
+within  the  precinct  of  the  very  cittie  it  selfe,  the  names  of 
+56 
+
+
+The  cause  of 
+the  warres  of 
+the  Amazones 
+against  the 
+Athenians. 
+
+
+Bosphorus 
+Cimmericus, 
+an  arme  of 
+the  sea. 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+the  places  which    contmewe  yet  to  this  present  daye  doe  THESEUS 
+witnesse  it,  and  the  graves  also  of  the  women  which  dyed 
+there.     But  so  it  is,  that  both  armies  laye  a  great  time  one 
+in  the  face  of  the  other,  ere  they  came  to  battell.     Howbeit 
+at  the  length  Theseus  having  first  made  sacrifice  unto  Feare 
+the  goddesse,  according  to  the  counsaill  of  a  prophecie  he  Theseus  fight- 
+had  receyved,  he  gave  them  battell  in  the  moneth  of  August,  ^^^  ^  battell 
+on  the  same  daye,  in  the  which  the  Athenians  doe  even  at  ^'j^^^^  \. 
+this  present  solemnise  the  feast,  which  they  call  Boedromia. 
+But  Clidemus  the  Historiographer,  desirous  particularly  to 
+write  all  the  circumstances  of  this  encownter,  sayeth  that  the 
+left  poynte  of  their  battell  bent  towards  the  place  which  The  order  of 
+they  call  Amazonion  :  and  that  the  right  poynte  marched  by  the  Amazones 
+the  side  of  Chrysa,  even  to  the  place  which  is  called  Pnyce,  battell. 
+upon  which,  the  Athenians  comming  towards  the  temple  of  the 
+Muses,  did  first  geve  their  charge.     And  for  proofe  that  this 
+is  true,  the  graves  of  the  women  which  dyed  in  this  first 
+encounter,  are  founde  yet  in  the  great  streete,  which  goeth 
+towards  the  gate  Piraica,  neere  unto  the  chappell  of  the  litlc 
+god  Chalcodus.    And  the  Athenians  (sayeth  he)  were  in  this 
+place  repulsed  by  the  Amazones,  even  to  the  place  where  the 
+images  of  Eumenides  are,  that  is  to  saye,  of  the  furies.     But 
+on  thother  side  also,  the  Athenians  comming  towards  the 
+quarters  of  Palladium,  Ardettus,  and  Lucium,  drave  backe 
+their  right  poynte  even  to  within  their  campe,  and  slewe  a 
+great  number  of  them.     Afterwards,  at  the  ende  of  foure 
+moneths,  peace  was  taken  betwene  them  by  meanes  of  one  Peace  con- 
+of  the  women  called  Hyppolita.     For  this  Historiographer  eluded  at 
+calleth  the  Amazone  which  Theseus  maried,  Hyppolita,  and  endTJlJ'"^ 
+not  Antiopa.     Nevertheles,  some  saye  that  she  was  slayne  meanes  of 
+(fighting  on  Theseus  side)  with  a  darte,  by  another  called  Hypolita. 
+Molpadia.     In  memorie  whereof,  the  piller  which  is  joyning 
+to  the  temple  of  the  Olympian  ground,  was  set  up  in  her 
+honour.     We  are  not  to  marvell,  if  the  historie  of  things  so 
+auncient,  be  founde  so  diversely  written.     For  there  are  also 
+that  write,  that  Queene  Antiopa  sent  those  secretly  which 
+were  hurte  then  into  the  cittie  of  Calcide,  where  some  of 
+them  recovered,  and  were   healed :   and  others   also  dyed, 
+which  were  buried   neere   to  the  place  called  Amazonion. 
+K  67 
+
+
+"1 
+
+
+THESEUS 
+
+Orcomosion, 
+the  name  of  a 
+place. 
+
+
+Auncient 
+tombes  of  los- 
+enge  facion. 
+
+
+Thermodon, 
+nowe  called 
+Haemon  fl. 
+
+
+Hippolytus 
+Theseussoune 
+by  Antiopa. 
+
+
+Phaedra 
+
+Theseus  wife, 
+and  Minos 
+daughter  king 
+of  Creta. 
+
+Theseus 
+manages. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+Howsoever  it  was,  it  is  most  certain  that  this  warre  was 
+ended  by  agreement.  For  a  place  adjoyning  to  the  temple 
+of  Theseus,  dothe  beare  recorde  of  it,  being  called  Orcomo- 
+sium  :  bicause  the  peace  was  there  by  solemne  othe  con- 
+cluded. And  the  sacrifice  also  dothe  truely  verifie  it,  which 
+they  have  made  to  the  Amazones,  before  the  feast  of 
+Theseus,  long  time  out  of  minde.  They  of  Megara  also  doe 
+shewe  a  tumbe  of  the  Amazones  in  their  cittie,  which  is  as 
+they  goe  from  the  market  place,  to  the  place  they  call  Rhus : 
+where  they  finde  an  auncient  tumbe,  cut  in  facion  and  forme 
+of  a  losenge.  They  saye  that  there  died  other  of  the 
+Amazones  also,  neere  unto  the  cittie  of  Chaeronea,  which  were 
+buried  all  alongest  the  litle  broke  passing  by  the  same,  which 
+in  the  olde  time,  (in  mine  opinion)  was  called  Thermodon, 
+and  is  nowe  named  Haemon,  as  we  have  in  other  places 
+written  in  the  life  of  Demosthenes.  And  it  semeth  also,  that 
+they  dyd  not  passe  through  Thessalie,  without  fighting :  for 
+there  are  seene  yet  of  their  tumbes  all  about  the  cittie  of 
+Scotusa,  hard  by  the  rocks,  which  be  called  the  doggs  head. 
+And  this  is  that  which  is  worthy  memorie  (in  mine  opinion) 
+touching  the  warres  of  these  Amazones.  How  tlie  Poet 
+telleth  that  the  Amazones  made  warres  with  Theseus  to 
+revenge  the  injurie  he  dyd  to  their  Queene  Antiopa,  refusing 
+her,  to  marye  with  Phaedra :  and  as  for  the  murder  which  he 
+telleth  that  Hercules  dyd,  that  me  thinckes  is  altogether  but 
+devise  of  Poets.  It  is  very  true,  that  after  the  death  of 
+Antiopa,  Theseus  maried  Phaedra,  having  had  before  of 
+Antiopa  a  sonne  called  Hippolytus,  or  as  the  Poet  Pindarus 
+writeth,  Demophon.  And  for  that  the  Historiographers  doe 
+not  in  any  thing  speake  against  the  tragicall  Poets,  in  that 
+which  concerneth  the  ill  happe  that  chaunced  to  him,  in  the 
+persons  of  this  his  wife  and  of  his  sonne  :  we  must  needes  take 
+it  to  be  so,  as  we  finde  it  written  in  the  tragedies.  And 
+yet  we  finde  many  other  reportes  touching  the  manages  of 
+Theseus,  whose  beginnings  had  no  great  good  honest  ground, 
+neither  fell  out  their  endes  very  fortunate :  and  yet  for  all 
+that  they  have  made  no  tragedies  of  them,  neither  have  they 
+bene  played  in  the  Theaters,  For  we  reade  that  he  tooke 
+away  Anaxo  the  Troezenian,  and  that  after  he  had  killed 
+58 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+Sinnis  and  Cercyon,  he  tooke  their  daughters  perforce :  and  THESEUS 
+that  he  dyd  also  marye  Peribsea,  the  mother  of  Ajax,  and 
+afterwards  Pherebaea,  and  loppa  the  daughter  of  Iphicles. 
+And  they  blame  him  much  also,  for  that  he  so  lightly  for- 
+sooke  his  wife  Ariadne,  for  the  love  of  JEgles  the  daughter 
+of  Panopaeus,  as  we  have  recited  before.     Lastely,  he  tooke 
+awaye  Hellen :  which  ravishement  filled  all  the  Realme  of 
+Attica  with  warres,  and  finally  was  the  very  occasion  that 
+forced  him  to  forsake  his  countrye,  and  brought  him  at  the 
+length  to  his  ende,  as  we  will  tell  you  hereafter.     Albeit  in 
+his  time  other  princes  of  Grece  had  done  many  goodly  and 
+notable  exploits  in  the  warres,  yet  Herodotus  is  of  opinion, 
+that  Theseus  was  never  in  any  one  of  them  :  saving  that  he  Theseus 
+was   at  the  battell  of  the  Lapithae  against  the  Centauri.  battels. 
+Others  saye  to  the  contrarie,'  that  he  was  at  the  jomey  of 
+Cholchide  with  lason,  and  that  he  dyd  helpe  Meleager  to 
+kill  the  wilde  bore  of  Calydonia :  from  whence  (as  they  saye) 
+this  proverbe  came  :  '  Not  without  Theseus."*     Meaning  that  Proverbe. 
+suche  a  thing  was  not  done  without  great  helpe  of  another.  ^  Not  without 
+Howbeit  it  is  certaine  that  Theseus  self  dyd  many  actes,      eseus. 
+without  ayde  of  any  man,  and  that  for  his  valiantnes  this 
+proverbe  came  in  use,  which  is  spoken :   '  This  is  another  Proverbe. 
+'  Theseus.'    Also  he  dyd  helpe  Adrastus  kino-  of  the  Arrives,  'This  is  ano-^ 
+to  recover  the  bodyes  of  those  that  were  slayne  in  the  battell,  neseus. 
+
+before  the  cittie  of  Thebes.  Howbeit  it  was  not,  as  the  poet 
+Euripides  sayeth,  by  force  of  amies,  after  he  had  overcome 
+the  Thebans  in  battell :  but  it  was  by  composition.  And 
+thus  the  greatest  number  of  the  most  auncient  writers  doe 
+declare  it.  Furthermore,  Philochorus  writeth,  that  this  was 
+the  first  treatie  that  ever  was  made  to  recover  the  dead 
+bodyes  slayne  in  battell :  nevertheles  we  doe  reade  in  the 
+histories  and  gestes  of  Hercules,  that  he  was  the  first  that 
+ever  suffered  his  enemies  to  carye  awaye  their  dead  bodyes, 
+after  they  had  bene  put  to  the  sword.  But  whosoever  he 
+was,  at  this  daye  in  the  village  of  Eleutheres,  they  doe  showe 
+the  place  where  the  people  were  buried,  and  where  princes 
+tumbes  are  seene  about  the  cittie  of  Eleusin,  which  he  made 
+at  the  request  of  Adrastus.  And  for  testimonie  hereof,  the 
+tragedie  iEschilus  made  of  the  Eleusinians,  where  he  causeth 
+
+59 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+
+THESEUS 
+
+
+Theseus  val- 
+liantnes  the 
+cause  of  Piri- 
+thous  friend- 
+shippe  with 
+him. 
+
+
+Pirithous  and 
+Theseus 
+sworne  bre- 
+thern  in  the 
+field. 
+
+Pirithous 
+maried  Dei- 
+damia. 
+
+The  Lapithae 
+
+overcomenthe 
+
+Centauri. 
+
+
+Theseus  and 
+Hercules  met 
+at  Trachina. 
+
+
+it  to  be  spoken  even  thus  to  Theseus  himself,  dothe  clerely 
+overthrowe  the  petitioners  in  Euripides.  Touching  the 
+friendshippe  betwixt  Pirithous  and  him,  it  is  sayed  it  beganne 
+thus.  The  renowne  of  his  valliancy  was  marvelously  blowen 
+abroade  through  all  Grece,  and  Pirithous  desirous  to  knowe 
+it  by  experience,  went  even  of  purpose  to  invade  his  countrye, 
+and  brought  awaye  a  certaine  bootie  of  oxen  of  his  taken  out 
+of  the  countrye  of  Marathon.  Theseus  being  advertised 
+therof,  armed  straight,  and  went  to  the  rescue.  Pirithous 
+hearing  of  his  comming,  fled  not  at  all,  but  returned  backe 
+sodainly  to  mete  him.  And  so  sone  as  they  came  to  see  one 
+another,  they  both  wondred  at  eche  others  beawtie  and 
+corage,  and  so  had  they  no  desire  to  fight.  But  Pirithous 
+reaching  out  his  hande  first  to  Theseus,  sayed  unto  him.  I 
+make  your  selfe  judge  of  the  damage  you  have  susteined  by 
+my  invasion,  and  with  all  my  harte  I  will  make  suche  satisfac- 
+tion, as  it  shall  please  you  to  assesse  it  at.  Theseus  then 
+dyd  not  only  release  him,  of  all  the  damages  he  had  done, 
+but  also  requested  him  he  would  become  his  friend,  and 
+brother  in  armes.  Hereupon  they  were  presently  sworne 
+brethren  in  the  fielde  :  after  which  othe  betwixt  them, 
+Pirithous  maried  Deidamia,  and  sent  to  praye  Theseus  to 
+come  to  his  mariage,  to  visite  his  countrye,  and  to  make 
+merye  with  the  Lapithas.  He  had  bidden  also  the  Centauri 
+to  the  feast :  who  being  druncke,  committed  many  lewde 
+partes,  even  to  the  forcing  of  women.  Howbeit  the  Lapithae 
+chasticed  them  so  well,  that  they  slewe  some  of  them  pre- 
+sently in  the  place,  and  drave  the  rest  afterwards  out  of  all 
+the  countrye  by  the  helpe  of  Theseus,  who  armed  him  selfe, 
+and  fought  on  their  side.  Yet  Herodotus  writeth  the 
+matter  somewhat  contrarie,  saying  that  Theseus  went  not  at 
+all  untill  the  warre  was  well  begonne :  and  that  it  was  the 
+first  time  that  he  sawe  Hercules,  and  spake  with  him  neere 
+unto  the  cittie  of  Trachina,  when  he  was  then  quiet,  having 
+ended  all  his  farre  voyages,  and  greatest  troubles.  They 
+reporte  that  this  meeting  together  was  full  of  great  cheere, 
+much  kindnes,  and  honorable  entertainement  betwene  them, 
+and  howe  great  curtesie  was  offred  to  eache  other.  Never- 
+theles  me  thincks  we  should  geve  better  credit  to  those 
+60 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+writers  that  saye  they  mett  many  times  together,  and  that  THESEUS 
+Hercules  was  accepted  and  receyved  into  the  brotherhed  of 
+the  mysteries  of  Eleusin,  by  the  meanes  of  the  countenaunce 
+and  favour  which  Theseus  showed  unto  him  :  and  that  his 
+purification  also  was  thereby  allowed  of,   who  was   to  be 
+purged  of  necessitie  of  all  his  ill  deedes  and  cruelties,  before 
+he  could  enter  into  the  companie  of  those  holy  mysteries. 
+Furthermore,  Theseus  was  fiftie  yeres  olde  when  he  tooke  Theseus  fiftie 
+awaye  Hellen  and  ravished  her,  which  was  very  younge,  and  y^re  olde 
+not  of  age  to  be  maried,  as  Hellanicus  sayeth.     By  reason  ^"^"  "^ 
+
+•/  •/  r3,visiii*fl 
+
+whereof,  some  seeking  to  hyde  the  ravishcment  of  her  as  a  Hellen 
+haynous  facte,  doe  reporte  it  was  not  he,  but  one  Idas  and 
+Lynceus  that  caryed  her  awaye,  who  left  her  in  his  custodie 
+and  keeping  :  and  that  Theseus  would  have  kept  her  from 
+them,  and  would  not  have  delivered  her  to  her  brethern  Castor 
+and  Pollux,  which  afterwardes  dyd  demaunde  her  againe  of 
+him.     Others  againe  save  it  was  her  owne  father  Tyndarus, 
+who  gave  her  him  to   keepe,  for  that  he  was  afFrayed  of 
+Enarsphorus  the  sonne  of  Hippocoon,  who  would  have  had 
+her  away  by  force.      But  that  which  commeth  nearest  to 
+the  trothe  in  this  case,  and  which  in  deede  by  many  authors 
+is  testified,  was  in  this  sorte.     Theseus  and  Pirithous  went  The  manner 
+together  to  the  cittie  of  Lacedaemon,  where  they  tooke  awaye  of  Hellens 
+Hellen  (being  yet  very  younge)  even  as  she  was  dauncing  in  ravishement. 
+the  temple  of  Diana  surnamed  Orthia :  and  they  fled  for  life.  Diana  Orthia. 
+They  of  Lacedaemon  sent  after  her,  but  those  that  followed 
+went  no  further  then  the  cittie  of  Tegea.     Now  when  they 
+were  escaped  out  of  the   countrye  of  Peloponnesus,  they 
+agreed  to  drawe  lots  together,  which  of  them  two  should 
+have  her,  with  condition  that  whose  lot  it  were  to  have  her, 
+he  should  take  her  to  his  wife,  and  should  be  bound  also  to 
+helpe  his  companion  to  get  him  another.     It  was  Theseus 
+happe  to  light  upon  her,  who  caryed  her  to  the  cittie  of  Theseus  lefte 
+Aphidnes,  bicause  she   was  yet  to  younge  to  be   maried.  Hellen  in  the 
+Whether  he  caused  his  mother  to  come  to  bring  her  up,  and  "^V^?  ^^ 
+gave  his  friend  called  Aphidnus  the  charge  of  them  both,  "  ^  '  "*^"^" 
+recommending  her  to  his  good  care,  and  to  kepe  it  so  secretly, 
+that   no   bodye   should    knowe    what    was   become   of  her. 
+Bicause  he  would  doe  the  like  for  Pirithous  (according  to 
+
+61 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+
+THESEUS 
+
+Theseus  went 
+
+withPirithous 
+
+into  Epirus, 
+
+to  steale 
+
+Proserpina 
+
+Aidoneus 
+
+daughter. 
+
+
+Pirithous 
+tome  in  peces 
+with  Cerberus. 
+
+Theseus  close 
+prisoner. 
+
+
+The  warre  of 
+the  Tyndari- 
+des  against 
+the  Athe- 
+nians. 
+
+
+th'  agrement  made  betwext  them)  he  went  into  Epirus  with 
+him  to  steale  the  daughter  of  Aidoneus,  king  of  the  Molos- 
+sians,  who  had  surnamed  his  wife  Proserpina,  his  daughter 
+Proserpina,  and  his  dogg  Cerberus  :  with  whom  he  made 
+them  fight  which  came  to  aske  his  daughter  in  mariage, 
+promising  to  geve  her  to  him  that  should  overcome  his 
+Cerberus.  But  the  King  understanding  that  Pirithous  was 
+come,  not  to  request  his  daughter  in  mariage,  but  to  steale 
+her  away,  he  tooke  him  prisoner  with  Theseus  :  and  as  for 
+Pirithous,  he  caused  him  presently  to  be  torne  in  peces  with 
+his  dogge,  and  shut  Theseus  up  in  close  prison.  In  this 
+meane  time  there  was  one  at  Athens  called  Menestheus,  the 
+Sonne  of  Peteus  :  which  Peteus  was  the  sonne  of  Orneus,  and 
+Orneus  was  the  sonne  of  Erictheus.  This  Menestheus  was 
+the  first  that  beganne  to  flatter  the  people,  and  did  seeke  to 
+winne  the  favour  of  the  communaltie,  by  sweete  entising 
+words  :  by  which  devise  he  stirred  up  the  chiefest  of  the 
+cittie  against  Theseus  (who  in  deede  long  before  beganne  to 
+be  wearie  of  him)  by  declaring  unto  them  howe  Theseus  had 
+taken  from  them  their  royalties  and  signiories,  and  had  shut 
+them  up  in  suche  sorte  within  the  walles  of  a  cittie,  that  he 
+might  the  better  keepe  them  in  subjection  and  obedience  in 
+all  things,  after  his  will.  The  poor  inferiour  sorte  of  people, 
+he  dyd  stirre  up  also  to  rebellion,  persuading  them  that  it 
+was  no  other  then  a  dreame  of  libertie  which  was  promised 
+them :  and  howe  contrariwise  they  were  clearely  dispossest 
+and  throwen  out  of  their  own  houses,  of  their  temples,  and 
+from  their  naturall  places  where  they  were  borne,  to  thend 
+only,  that  in  liewe  of  many  good  and  loving  lordes  which 
+they  were  wont  to  have  before,  they  should  now  be  compelled 
+to  serve  one  onely  hedde,  and  a  straunge  lorde.  Even  as 
+Menestheus  was  very  hotte  about  this  practise,  the  warre 
+of  the  Tyndarides  fell  out  at  that  instant,  which  greatly 
+furthered  his  pretence.  For  these  Tyndarides  (to  wit  the 
+children  of  Tyndarus)  Castor  and  Pollux,  came  downe  with 
+a  great  armie,  against  the  cittie  of  Athens  :  and  some  suspect 
+sore  that  Menestheus  was  cause  of  their  comming  thither. 
+Howbeit  at  the  first  entrie  they  dyd  no  hurte  at  all  in  the 
+eountrye,  but  only  demaunded  restitution  of  their  sister. 
+62 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+To  whom  the  citizens  made  aunswer,  that  they  knewe  not  THESEUS 
+where  she  was  left :  and  then  the  brethern  beganne  to  make 
+spoyle,  and  offer  warre  in  deede.     Howbeit  there  was  one 
+called  Academus,  who  having  knowledge  (I  can  not  tell  by 
+what  meane)  that  she  was  secretly  hidden  in  the  cittie  of 
+Aphidnes,  revealed  it  unto  them.     By  reason  whereof  the 
+Tyndarides  did  alwayes  honour  him  very  much,  so  long  as 
+he  lived,  and  afterwards  the  Lacedaemonians,  having  ofte 
+burnt  and  destroyed  the  whole  countrye  of  Attica  through- 
+out, they  would  yet  never  touch  the  Academy  of  Athens  for 
+Academus  sake.     Yet  Dicearchus  sayeth,  that  in  the  armie 
+of  the  Tyndarides  there  were  two  Arcadians,  Echedemus, 
+and  Marathus,  and  howe  of  the  name  of  one  of  them,  it  was 
+then  called  the  place  of  Echedemie,  which  sithence  hath  bene  Academia 
+called  Academia  :  and  after  the  name  of  the  other,  there  why  so  called, 
+was  a  village  called  Marathon,  bicause  he  willingly  offered  Marathon, 
+him  self  to  be  sacrificed  before  the  battell,  as  obeying  the 
+order  and  commandement  of  a  prophecie.    So  they  went  and  Aphidnes 
+pitched  their  campe  before   the   cittie    of  Aphidnes,    and  wonne  and 
+having  wonne  the  battell,  and  taken  the  cittie  by  assault,  E?*^^^  by  the 
+they  raced  the  place.     They  saye  that  Alycus,  the  sonne  of    ^ 
+Sciron  was  slaine  at  this  field,  who  was  in  the  hoaste  of  the 
+Tyndarides,  and  that  after  his  name,  a  certaine  quarter  of  Alycus  Sci- 
+the  territorie  of  Megara  was  called  Alycus,  in  the  which  his  ^^^^  sonne 
+bodye  was  buried.     Howbeit  Hereas  writeth  that  Theseus  batSo? 
+self  dyd  kill  him  before  Aphidnes  :    In  witnes  whereof  he  Aphidnes. 
+alledgeth  certain  verses  which  speake  of  Alycus. 
+
+While  as  he  sought  with  all  his  might  and  mayue 
+
+(in  thy  defence,  fayer  Hellen  for  to  fight) 
+111  Aphidnes,  upon  the  pleasauiit  playne, 
+
+bold  Theseus  to  cruell  deathe  him  dight. 
+
+Howbeit  it  is  not  likely  to  be  true,  that  Theseus  being 
+there,  the  cittie  of  Aphidnes,  and  his  mother  also  were  taken. 
+But  when  it  was  wonne,  they  of  Athens  beganne  to  quake 
+for  feare,  and  Menestheus  counselled  them  to  receyve  the 
+Tyndarides  into  the  cittie,  and  to  make  them  good  chere,  so 
+they  would  make  no  warres  but  upon  Theseus,  which  was  the 
+first  that  had  done  them  the  wrong  and  injurie  :  and  that 
+
+63 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+THESEUS  to  all  other  els  they  should  showe  favour  and  good  will. 
+And  so  it  fell  out.  For  when  the  Tyndarides  had  all  in 
+their  power  to  doe  as  they  listed,  they  demaunded  nothing 
+els  but  that  they  might  be  received  into  their  corporation, 
+and  not  to  be  reckoned  for  straungers,  no  more  then  Hercules 
+was  :  the  which  was  graunted  the  Tyndarides,  and  Aphidnus 
+dyd  adopt  them  for  his  children,  as  Pylius  had  adopted 
+Hercules.  Moreover  they  dyd  honour  them  as  if  they  had 
+bene  godds,  calling  them  Anaces.  Either  bicause  they  ceased 
+the  warres,  or  for  that  they  ordered  them  selves  so  well,  that 
+their  whole  armie  being  lodged  within  the  cittie,  there  was 
+not  any  hurte  or  displeasure  done  to  any  persone  :  but  as  it 
+became  those  that  have  the  charge  of  any  thing,  they  did 
+carefully  watche  to  preserve  the  good  quiet  thereof.  All 
+which  this  Greke  word  Anacos  doth  signifie,  wherof  per- 
+chaunce  it  comes  that  they  call  the  kings  Anactes.  There 
+are  others  also  who  holde  opinion  that  they  were  called 
+Anaces,  bicause  of  their  starres  which  appeared  in  the  ayer. 
+For  the  Attican  tongue  sayeth,  Anacas,  and  Atiecathen : 
+where  the  comon  people  saye  Ano,  and  Anotlien^  that  is 
+to  saye,  above.  Nevertheles  ^thra,  Theseus  mother,  was 
+caried  prisoner  to  Lacedaemon,  and  from  thence  to  Troia 
+with  Hellen,  as  some  saye :  and  as  Homer  him  self  doth 
+witnesse  in  his  verses,  where  he  speaketh  of  the  women  that 
+followed  Hellen. 
+
+iEthra  the  daughter  deare  of  Pitheus  aged  Syre, 
+
+and  with  her  fayer  Clymene  she,  whose  eyes  most  men  desire. 
+
+Yet  there  are  other  who  aswell  reject  these  two  verses, 
+and  mainteine  they  are  not  Homers  :  as  also  they  reprove 
+all  that  is  reported  of  Munychus.      To  wit,  that  Laodice 
+
+'  '^""^''*  being  prively  conceived  of  him  by  Demophon,  he  was  brought 
+
+up  secretly  by  ^thra  within  Troia.  But  Hister  the  his- 
+torien  in  his  thirtenth  of  his  histories  of  Attica,  maketh 
+a  recitall  farre  contrary  to  other,  saying:  that  some  hold 
+opinion,  that  Paris  Alexander  was  slayne  in  battell  by 
+Achilles,  and  Patroclus  in  the  countrye  of  Thessalie,  neere 
+
+Sperchius  fl.  to  the  river  of  Sperchius,  and  that  his  brother  Hector  tooke 
+the  cittie  of  Troezen,  from  whence  he  brought  awaye  iEthra : 
+64 
+
+
+The  Tynda- 
+rides honour- 
+ed as  godds, 
+and  called 
+Anaces. 
+
+Cicero  de  Nat. 
+dear.  lib.  3. 
+
+Kings  called 
+Anactes. 
+
+Anaces  why 
+so  called. 
+
+
+iTlthra  taken 
+prisoner,  and 
+caried  to 
+Lacedaemon. 
+
+
+Divers 
+opinions  of 
+Homers 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+in  which  there  is  no  manner  of  apparance  or  likelihodde.  THESEUS 
+But  .-Edoneus  king  of  the  Molossians,  feasting  Hercules  one 
+daye  as  he  passed  through  his  realme,  descended  by  chaunce 
+into  talke  of  Theseus  and  of  Pirithous,  howe  they  came  to 
+steale  away  his  daughter  secretly  :  and  after  told  how  they 
+were   also   punished,      Hercules    was    marvellous   sorye   to 
+understand  that  one  of  them  was  now  dead,  and  the  other  in 
+daunger  to  dye,  and  thought  with  him  self  that  to  make  his 
+mone  to  -iEdoneus,  it  would  not  helpe  the  matter :  he  be- 
+sought him  only  that  he  would  deliver  Theseus  for  his  sake. 
+And  he  graunted  him.     Thus  Theseus   being  delivered  of  Theseus  deli- 
+this  captivitie,  returned  to  Athens,  where  his  friends  were  ^^f^d  out  of 
+not  altogether  kept  under  by  his  enemies  :  and  at  his  returne  c^es^meanes' 
+he  dyd  dedicate  to  Hercules  all  the  temples,  which  the  cittie 
+had  before  caused  to  be  built  in  his  owne  honour.     And 
+where  first  of  all  they  were  called  Thesea,  he  did  now  surname 
+them  all  Herculea,  excepting  foure,  as  Philochorus  writeth. 
+Nowe  when  he  was  arrived  at  Athens,  he  would  immediately 
+have  commaunded  and  ordered  things  as  he  was  wont  to  doe: 
+but  he  found  him  self  troubled  much  with  sedition,  bicause 
+those  who  had  hated  him  of  long  time,  had  added  also  to 
+their  old  canckered  hate,  a  disdain  and  contempt  to  feare  The  Athe- 
+him  any  more.     And  the  comon  people  now  were  become  niansdisdaine 
+so  stubborn,  that  where  before  they  would  have  done  all  that    ^^  ^^ 
+they  were  commanded,  and  have  spoken  nothing  to  the  con- 
+trarie :   now  they  looked  to  be  borne  with,  and  flattered. 
+Whereupon  Theseus  thought  at  the  first  to  have  used  force, 
+but  he  was  forced  by  the  faction  and  contention  of  his 
+enemies  to  let  all  alone,  and  in  the  end,  despairing  he  should 
+ever  bring  his  matters  to  passe  to  his  desire,  he  secretly  sent 
+away  his  children  into  the  He  of  Eubcea,  to  Elphenor  the 
+Sonne  of  Chalcodus.     And  him  self,  after  he  had  made  many 
+wishes  and  curses  against  the  Athenians,  in  the  village  of 
+Gargettus,  in  a  place  which  for  that  cause  to  this  daye  is 
+called  Araterion  :  (that  is  to  saye,  the  place  of  cursings)  he 
+did  take  the  seas,  and  went  into  the  He  of  Sciros,  where  he  Tlieseus  fled 
+had   goods,   and   thought    also    to    have    founde    friends,  f'"^"^  Athens 
+Lycomedes  raigned  at  that  time,  and  was  king  of  the  He,  3^*^08^^       "^ 
+unto  whom  Theseus  made  request  for  some  lande,  as  intend- 
+I  65 
+
+
+THESEUS 
+
+
+Theseus 
+cruelly  slayue 
+by  Lycome- 
+des. 
+
+
+Menestheus 
+king  of 
+Athens. 
+
+
+Theseus 
+sonnes. 
+
+
+Cimon  taketh 
+the  He  of 
+Sciros  and 
+bringethThe 
+seus  bones  to 
+Athens. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+ing  to  dwell  there  :  albeit  some  saye  that  he  required  him 
+to  give  him  ayde  against  the  Athenians.     Lycomedes,  were 
+it  that  he  douted  to  entertaine  so  great  a  personage,  or  that 
+he  dyd  it  to  gratifie  Menestheus :  caried  him  up  to  the  high 
+rocks,  faining  as  though  he  would  from  thence  have  shewed 
+him  all  his  countrye  round  about.     But  when  he  had  him 
+there,  he  threw  him  downe  hedlong  from  the  toppe  of  the 
+rocks  to  the  bottome,  and  put  him  thus  unfortunately  to 
+death.     Yet  other  write,  that  he  fell  down  of  him  self  by  an 
+unfortunate  chaunce,  walking  one  daye  after  supper  as  he 
+was  wont  to  doe.     There  was  no  man  at  that  time  that  dyd 
+foUowe  or  pursue  his  death,  but  Menestheus  quietly  remained 
+king  of  Athens  :   and  the  children  of  Theseus,  as  private 
+souldiers  followed  Elphenor  in  the  warres  of  Troia.      But 
+after  the  death  of  Menestheus,  who  died  in  the  jorney  to 
+Troie,  Theseus  sonnes  returned  unto  Athens,   where  they 
+recovered  their  state.     Sithence  there  were  many  occasions 
+which  moved  the  Athenians  to  reverence  and  honour  him  as 
+a  demy  god.    For  in  the  battell  of  Marathon,  many  thought 
+they  sawe  his  shadow  and  image  in  armes,  fighting  against 
+the  barbarous  people.     And  after  the  warres  of  the  Medes 
+(the  yere  wherein  Phaedon  was  governour  of  Athens)  the 
+nunne  Pithia  answered  the  Athenians,  who  had  sent  to  the 
+oracle  of  Apollo  :  that  they  should  bring  backe  the  bones  of 
+Theseus,  and  putting  them  in  some  honorable  place,  they 
+should  preserve  and  honour  them  devoutely.     But  it  was  a 
+harde  matter  to  finde  his  grave  :  and  if  they  had  founde  it, 
+yet  had  it  bene  a  harder  thing  to  have  brought  his  bones 
+awaye,  for  the  malice  of  those  barbarous  people  which  in- 
+habited that  He  :  which  were  so  wild  and  fierce,  that  none 
+could  trade  or  live  with  them.      Notwithstanding  Cimon 
+having  taken  the  Hand  (as  we  have  written  in  his  life)  and 
+seeking  his  grave  :  perceived  by  good  happe  an  eagle  pecking 
+with  her  beake,  and  scraping  with  her  clawes  in  a  place  of 
+some  prety  height.     Straight  it  came  into  his  minde  (as  by 
+divine  inspiration)  to  searche  and  digge  the  place  :  where 
+was  founde  the  tumbe  of  a  great  bodye,  with  the  head  of  a 
+speare  which  was  of  brasse,  and  a  sword  with  it.     All  which 
+things  were  brought  to  Athens  bv  Cimon  in  the  admirall 
+
+m 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+gallic.     The  Athenians  received  them  with  great  joye,  with  THESEUS 
+processions  and  goodly  sacrifices,  as  if  Theseus  him  self  had  Theseus 
+bene  a  live,  and  had  returned  into  the  cittie  againe.    At  this  tumbe. 
+daye  all  these  relicks  lye  yet  in  the  middest  of  the  cittie, 
+neere  to  the  place  where  the  younge  men  doe  use  all  their    - 
+exercises  of  bodye.     There  is  free  libertie  of  accesse  for  all 
+slaves  and  poore  men,  (that  are  afflicted  and  pursued,  by  any 
+mightier  then  themselves)  to  pray  and  sacrifice  in  remem- 
+braunce  of  Theseus  :  who  while  he  lived  was  protectour  of 
+the  oppressed,  and  dyd  curteously  receive  their  requests  and 
+petitions  that  prayed  to  have  ayde  of  him.     The  greatest 
+and  most  solemne  sacrifice  they  doe  unto  him,  is  on  the 
+eight  daye  of  October,  in  which  he  returned  from  Creta, 
+Avith  the  other  younge  children  of  Athens.     Howbeit  they 
+doe  not  leave  to  honour  him  every  eight  daye  of  all  other 
+moneths,  either  bicause  he  arrived  from  Troezen  at  Athens 
+the  eight  daye   of   lune,   as   Diodorus   the    Cosmographer 
+writeth  :    or   for   that    they   thought   that   number   to    be 
+meetest  for  him,  bicause  the  bruite  ranne  he  was  begotten 
+of  Neptune.     They  doe  sacrifice  also  to  Neptune,  the  eight  Neptune  why 
+daye  of  every  moneth,  bicause  the  number  of  eight  is  the  c^Hed  Aspha- 
+first  cube  made  of  even  number,  and  the  double  of  the  first  G!L1(fc'hus 
+square :    which  dothe  represent  a  stedfastnes  immoveable, 
+properly  attributed  to  the  might  of  Neptune,  whom 
+for  this  cause  we  surname  Asphalius,  and  Gseiochus, 
+which  by  interpretation  dothe  signifie :  the  safe 
+keeper,  and  the  stayer  of  the  earthe. 
+
+THE   ENDE    OF   THESEUS    LIFE 
+
+
+67 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+THE  LIFE  OF  ROMULUS 
+
+
+Divers  opin- 
+ions about 
+the  name  of 
+Rome. 
+
+
+Tybris  fl. 
+
+
+HE  Historiographers  doe  not  agree  in  their 
+writings,  by  whom,  nor  for  what  cause, 
+the  great  name  of  the  cittie  of  Rome  (the 
+glorie  wherof  is  blowen  abroad  through 
+all  the  worlde)  was  first  geven  unto  it. 
+For  some  thincke  that  the  Pelasgians, 
+after  they  had  overcome  the  greatest 
+parte  of  the  world,  and  had  inhabited 
+and  subdued  many  nations,  in  the  ende  dyd  staye  them 
+selves  in  that  place  where  it  was  newe  buylded :  and  for 
+their  great  strength  and  power  in  armes,  they  gave  the 
+name  of  Rome  unto  the  cittie,  as  signifying  power  in  the 
+Greeke  tongue.  Other  saye,  that  after  the  taking  and 
+destruction  of  Troy  a,  there  were  certain  Troyans  which 
+saving  them  selves  from  the  sworde,  tooke  suche  vessells  as 
+they  founde  at  adventure  in  the  haven,  and  were  by  winds 
+put  with  the  Thuscane  shore,  where  they  anckred  neere  xmto 
+the  river  of  Tyber.  There  their  wives  being  so  sore  sea 
+sicke,  that  possibly  they  could  not  any  more  endure  the 
+boisterous  surges  of  the  seas :  it  happened  one  of  them 
+among  the  rest  (the  noblest  and  wisest  of  the  companie) 
+called  Roma,  to  counsaill  the  other  women  of  her  com- 
+panions to  set  their  shippes  a  fire,  which  they  dyd  accord- 
+ingly. Wherewith  their  husbands  at  the  first  were  mar- 
+velously  offended.  But  afterwards,  being  compelled  of 
+necessitie  to  plant  them  selves  neere  unto  the  cittie  of 
+Pallantium,  they  were  appeased  when  they  sawe  things 
+prosper  better  then  they  hoped  for,  finding  the  soyle  there 
+fertile,  and  the  people  their  neighbours  civill  and  gentle  in 
+entertaining  them.  Wherefore  amongest  other  honours  they 
+dyd  to  requite  this  lady  Roma,  they  called  their  cittie  after 
+her  name,  as  from  whom  came  the  originall  cause  of  the 
+building  and  foundation  thereof.  They  saye  that  from 
+thence  came  this  custome  continuing  yet  to  this  daye  at 
+Rome,  that  the  women  saluting  their  kinsefolkes  and  hus- 
+68 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+bands  doe   kisse  them   in   the   mouthe,  for  so   dyd  these  ROMULUS 
+Troyan  ladyes  to  please  their  husbands,  and  to  winne  them  The  begin- 
+againe,  after  they  had  lost  their  favours,  and  procured  their  ningofkissiug 
+displeasures  with  burning  of  their  shippes.     Other  saye  that  fof^^s  i^^the 
+Roma  was  the  daughter  of  Italus,  and  of  Lucaria,  or  els  of  mouthe  came 
+Telephus  the  sonne  of  Hercules,  and  of  the  wife  of  iEneas :  from  the  Tro- 
+other  saye  of  Ascanius,  the  sonne  of  iEneas,  who  named  the  ian  women, 
+cittie  after  her  name.      Other  holde  opinion  that  it  was 
+Romanus  (the  sonne  of  Vlysses  and   of  Circe)   that   first 
+founded  Rome  :  other  will  saye  that  it  was  Romus  the  sonne 
+of  Emathion,  whom  Diomedes   sent  thither   from  Troya. 
+Other  write  that  it  was  one  Romis  a  tyranne  of  the  Latines, 
+who  drave  the  Thuscans  out  of  those  partes  :  which  depart- 
+ing out  of  Thessaly  went  first  of  all  into  Lydia,  and  after- 
+wards from  Lydia  into  Italic.     And  furthermore,  they  who 
+thincke  that  Romulus  (as  in  deede  it  carieth  best  likelyhod) 
+was  he  that  gave  the  name  to  the  cittie,  doe  not  agree  about 
+his  auncesters.     For  some  of  them  write,  that  he  was  the  Fables  of  Ro- 
+sonne  of  ^Eneas  and  of  Dexithea  the  daughter  of  Phorbus,  mulusbyrthe. 
+and  that  he  was  brought  into  Italic  of  a  litle  childe  with 
+his  brother  Remus :    and  that  at  that  time   the  river  of 
+Tyber  being  overflowen,  all  other  shippes  were  cast  awaye, 
+saving  the  shippe  in  which  the  two  litle  boyes  were,  which 
+by  great  good  happe  came  to  a  staye  upon  a  very  plaine 
+even  grounde  on  the  bancke,  and  bicause  the  children  be- 
+yond all  hope  were  saved  by  this  meanes,  therefore  the  place 
+was  afterwardes  called  Roma.     Other  saye  that  Roma  the 
+daughter  of  the  first  Troian  ladye  was  maried  unto  Latinus 
+the  Sonne  of  Telemachus,  by  whom  she  had  Romulus.    Other 
+write,  that  it  was  Emilia,  the  daughter  of  Mneas  and  of 
+Lavinia,  which  was  gotten  with  childe  by  the  god  Mars. 
+Other  tell  a  tale  of  Romulus  birth,  nothing  true  nor  likely. 
+For  it  is  sayed  that  there  was  sometime  a  king  of  Alba 
+named  Tarchetius,  a  very  wicked  and  cruell  man,  in  whose 
+house  through  the  permission  of  the  goddes  appeared  such  a 
+like  vision :  that  there  rose  up  in  the  harthe  of  his  chymney 
+the  forme  and  facion  of  a  mans  privie  member,  which  con- 
+tinued there  many  dayes.     And  they  saye,  that  at  that  time 
+there  was  in  Thuscane  an  oracle  of  Thetis,  from  whom  they 
+
+69 
+
+
+Thetis  in 
+Thuscaue. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+ROMULUS  brought  unto  this  wicked  king  Tarchetius  suche  an  aunswer : 
+All  oracle  of  that  he  should  cause  his  daughter  yet  unmaried  to  have 
+camall  companie  with  the  straunge  thing,  for  she  should 
+beare  a  sonne,  that  should  be  famous  for  his  valliancie,  for 
+strength  of  bodye,  and  his  happie  successe  wherein  he  should 
+exceede  all  men  of  his  time.  Tarchetius  tolde  this  oracle 
+imto  one  of  his  daughters,  and  willed  her  to  entertaine  this 
+straunge  thing:  but  she  disdaining  to  doe  it,  sent  one  of 
+her  waiting  women  to  undertake  the  entertainement.  But 
+Tarchetius  was  so  mad  at  this,  that  he  caused  them  both  to 
+be  taken  to  put  them  to  death  :  howbeit  the  goddesse  Vesta 
+appeared  to  him  in  his  sleepe  in  the  night,  and  charged  him 
+he  should  not  doe  it.  Whereupon  he  dyd  commaund  them 
+to  make  him  a  pece  of  clothe  in  the  prisone,  with  promise 
+that  they  should  be  maried  when  they  had  finished  it. 
+These  poore  maydes  toyled  at  it  all  the  live  longe  daye, 
+but  in  the  night  there  came  other  (by  Tarchetius  com- 
+maundement)  that  dyd  undoe  all  they  had  done  the  daye 
+before.  In  the  meane  time,  this  waiting  woman  that  was 
+gott  with  childe  by  this  straunge  thing,  was  delivered  of 
+two  goodly  boyes  or  twynnes :  whom  Tarchetius  gave  unto 
+one  Teratius,  with  expresse  commaundement  he  should  cast 
+them  awaye.  This  Teratius  caryed  them  unto  the  bancke 
+of  the  river  :  thither  came  a  shee  woulfe  and  gave  them 
+sucke,  and  certaine  byrdes  that  brought  litle  crommes  and 
+put  them  in  their  mouthes,  untill  a  swyneheard  perceyving 
+them,  and  wondring  at  the  sight,  dyd  boldly  goe  to  the 
+children,  and  tooke  them  awaye  with  him.  These  infantes 
+being  thus  preserved  after  they  were  come  to  mans  state, 
+dyd  set  upon  Tarchetius  and  slewe  him.  One  Promathion 
+an  Italian  writer,  delivereth  this  storie  thus.  But  the 
+reporte  that  carieth  best  credit  of  all,  and  is  allowed  of 
+by  many  writers  :  commeth  from  Diodes  Peparethian 
+(whome  Fabius  Pictor  followeth  in  many  thinges),  who  was 
+the  first  that  put  forth  this  storie  among  the  Grecians,  and 
+specially  the  chiefest  poynts  of  it.  Though  this  matter  be 
+somewhat  diversely  taken,  yet  in  effect  the  storie  is  thus. 
+The  right  line  and  bloude  of  the  kings  of  Alba  descended 
+from  iEneas,  by  succession  from  the  father  to  the  sonne, 
+70 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+and  the  Kingdome  fell  in  the  ende  betweene  two  brethern,  ROMULUS 
+Numitor  and   Amulius.      They  agreed   by  lotte   to   make  See  the  frag- 
+division  betweene  them,  whereof  the  one  to  have  the  King-  ??^°.*^  ^^. 
+dome,  and  the  other  all  the  golde,  sylver,  readye  money,  and^of  Cato""' 
+goodes,  and  juells  brought  from  Troia.     Numitor  by  his 
+lotte  chose  the  Realme  for  his  portion :    Amulius  having  See  also  Ha- 
+all  the  golde  and  treasure  in  his  handes,  dyd  finde  him  selfe  Hcarnasseus, 
+thereby  the  stronger,  and  so  dyd  easely  take  his  Realme  a^n<l  ^  •  l^^vi^s. 
+from  him.     And  fearing  least  his  brothers  daughter  might  Romulus 
+liave  children  which  one  day  might  thrust  him  out  againe,  kiured. 
+he  made  her  a  Nunne  of  the  goddesse  Vesta,  there  to  passe 
+her  dayes  in  virginitie,  and  never  to  be  maried :  (some  call 
+iier   Rhea,  other   Sylvia,  and    other  Ilia)   nevertheles   not  Romulus 
+longe  after  she  was  founde  with  childe,  against  the  rule  and  mother, 
+profession  of  the  Vestall  Nunnes.     So  nothing  had  saved  her 
+from  present  death,  but  the  petition  of  Antho  the  daughter 
+of  king  Amulius,  who  intreated  her  father  for  her  life :  yet 
+notwithstanding  she  was  straightly  locked  up,  that  no  body 
+could  see   her,  nor  speake  with   her,  least  she    should  be 
+brought  a  bedde  without  Amulius  knowledge.     In  the  ende 
+she  was  delivered  of  two  fayre  boyes  and  marveilous  great 
+twynnes  :  which  made  Amulius  more  afFrayed  then  before. 
+So  he  commaunded  one  of  his  men  to  take  the  two  children, 
+and  to  thro  we  them  awaye,  and  destroy  e  them.     Some  saye 
+that  this  servants  name  was  Faustulus  :  other  thincke  it  was  Faustulus. 
+he  that  brought  them  up.     But  whosoever  he  was,  he  that 
+had  the  charge  to  throwe  them  awaye,  put  them  in  a  troughe, 
+and  went  towards  the  river  with  intention  to  throwe  them 
+in.     Howbeit  he  found  it  risen  so  highe,  and  running  so 
+swiftely,  that  he  durst  not  come  neere  the  waters  side,  and 
+so  they  being  in  the  troughe,  he  layed  them  on  the  bancke. 
+In  the  meane  time  the  river  swelling  still,  and  overflow^ing 
+the  bancke,  in  such  sorte  that  it  came  under  the  troughe : 
+dyd  gently  lifte  up  the  troughe,  and  caried  it  unto  a  great 
+playne,  called  at  this  present  Cermanum,  and  in  the  olde  Cermanum. 
+time  Germanum  (as  I  take  it)  bicause  the  Romaines  called 
+the  brothers  of  father  and  mother,  Germani.     No  we  there 
+was  neere  unto  this  place  a  wilde  figge  tree  which  they  called 
+Ruminalis,  of  the   name  of  Romulus   as    the    most  parte  Ruminalis. 
+
+71 
+
+
+The  goddesse 
+Rumilia. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+ROMULUS  thought:  or  els  bicause  the  beasts  feeding  there  were  wont 
+to  come  under  the  same  in  the  extreame  heate  of  the  daye, 
+and  there  dyd  Ruminate,  that  is,  chewe  their  cudde  in  the 
+shadowe :  or  perhappes  bicause  that  the  two  children  dyd 
+sucke  the  teate  of  the  woulfe,  which  the  auncient  Latines 
+call  Ruma,  and  they  at  this  day  doe  yet  call  the  goddesse  on 
+whom  they  crye  out  to  geve  their  children  sucke,  Rumilia. 
+And  in  their  sacrifices  to  her  they  use  no  wine,  but  offer  up 
+milke  and  water  mingled  with  honye.  To  these  two  children 
+lying  there  in  this  sorte,  they  write,  there  came  a  she  woulfe 
+and  gave  them  sucke  :  and  a  hitwaw  also  which  dyd  helpe 
+to  norishe  and  keepe  them.  These  two  beastes  are  thought 
+to  be  consecrated  to  the  god  Mars,  and  the  Latines  doe 
+singularly  honour  and  reverence  the  hitwaw.  This  dyd 
+much  helpe  to  geve  credit  to  the  wordes  of  the  mother,  who 
+affirmed  she  was  conceyved  of  those  two  children,  by  the  god 
+Mars.  Howbeit  some  thincke  she  was  deceyved  in  her 
+opinion :  for  Amulius  that  had  her  maidenhead,  went  to 
+her  all  armed,  and  perforce  dyd  ravishe  her.  Other  holde 
+opinion  that  the  name  of  the  nurce  which  gave  the  two 
+children  sucke  with  her  breastes,  gave  occasion  to  common 
+reporte  to  erre  much  in  this  tale,  by  reason  of  the  double 
+signification  thereof.  For  the  Latines  doe  call  with  one 
+selfe  name  shee  woulfes  Lupas^  and  women  that  geve  their 
+bodyes  to  all  commers :  as  this  nurce  the  wife  of  Faustulus 
+(that  brought  these  children  home  to  her  house)  dyd  use  to 
+doe.  By  her  right  name  she  was  called  Acca  Laurentia, 
+unto  whom  the  Romaines  doe  sacrifice  yet  unto  this  daye : 
+and  the  priest  of  Mars  doth  offer  unto  her,  in  the  moneth  of 
+Aprill,  the  sheading  of  wine  and  milke  accustomed  at 
+burialls,  and  the  feast  it  selfe  is  called  Larentia.  It  is 
+true  that  they  honour  also  another  Larentia,  for  like  occa- 
+sion. The  clercke  or  sexten  of  Hercules  temple,  not  know- 
+ing one  daye  howe  to  drive  awaye  the  time  as  it  should 
+seeme :  of  a  certaine  livelines  and  boldnes,  dyd  desire  the 
+god  Hercules  to  playe  at  dyce  with  him,  with  condition  that 
+if  he  dyd  winne,  Hercules  should  be  bounde  to  send  him 
+some  good  fortune  :  and  if  it  were  his  lucke  to  lose,  then  he 
+promised  Hercules  he  would  provide  him  a  very  good  supper, 
+72 
+
+
+Acca  Lauren- 
+tia Faustulus 
+wife,  that 
+nurced  the 
+twynnes. 
+
+The  Greeke 
+sayeth  Laren- 
+tia. 
+
+Larentia 
+feast. 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+and  would  besides  bring  him  a  fayer  gentlewoman  to  lye  ROMULUS 
+with  all.  The  conditions  of  the  playe  thus  rehearsed,  the 
+sexten  first  cast  the  dyce  for  Hercules,  and  afterwards  for 
+him  sclfe.  It  fell  out  that  Hercules  wanne,  and  the  sexten 
+meaning  good  fayth,  and  thincking  it  very  mete  to  performe 
+the  bargaine  that  him  selfe  had  made,  prepared  a  good 
+supper,  and  hyered  this  Laurentia  the  courtisan,  which  was  Laurentia  a 
+very  fayer,  but  as  yet  of  no  great  fame  to  come  to  it.  Thus  courtisan. 
+having  feasted  her  within  the  temple,  and  prepared  a  bedde 
+readye  there,  after  supper  he  locked  her  into  the  temple,  as 
+if  Hercules  should  have  comen  in  dede  and  layen  with  her. 
+And  it  is  said  for  trothe,  that  Hercules  came  thither :  and 
+commaunded  her  in  the  morning  she  should  goe  into  the 
+market  place,  and  salute  the  first  man  she  met,  and  kepe 
+him  ever  for  her  friend.  Which  thing  she  performed,  and 
+the  first  man  she  met  was  called  Tarrutius,  a  man  of  great  Tarrutius. 
+yeres,  and  one  that  had  gathered  together  marveilous  wealth 
+and  riches.  He  had  no  children  at  all,  neither  was  he  ever 
+maried.  He  fell  acquainted  with  this  Laurentia,  and  loved 
+her  so  dearely,  that  shortely  after  chauncing  to  dye,  he  made 
+her  heire  of  all  he  had :  whereof  she  disposed  afterwards  by 
+her  last  will  and  testament,  the  best  and  greatest  parte  unto 
+the  people  of  Rome.  Moreover  it  is  reported  also,  that 
+she  now  being  growen  to  be  famous  and  of  great  honour 
+(as  thought  to  be  the  lemman  of  a  god)  dyd  vanishe  away 
+sodainely  in  the  self  same  place,  where  the  first  Laurentia 
+was  buried.  The  place  at  this  day  is  called  Velabrum :  V'elabrum 
+bicause  the  river  being  ovei-flowen,  they  were  oftentimes  « hereof  Z-ftte 
+compelled  to  passe  by  bote  to  goe  to  the  market  place,  and  ^^^'  ^'  '  7- 
+they  called  this  manner  of  ferrying  over,  Velatura.  Other 
+saye,  that  those  tomblers  and  common  players,  which  shewed 
+sundrye  games  and  pastimes  to  winne  the  favour  of  the 
+people,  were  wont  to  cover  that  passage  over  with  canvas 
+clothes  and  veyles,  by  which  they  goe  from  the  market  place 
+to  the  lystes  or  shewe  place  where  they  ronne  their  horses, 
+beginning  their  race  even  at  the  place :  and  they  call  a  veyle 
+in  their  tongue.  Velum.  This  is  the  cause  why  the  seconde 
+Laurentia  is  honored  at  Rome.  Faustulus,  chief  neateheard 
+to  Amulius,  tooke  up  the  two  children  and  no  bodye  knewe 
+K  73 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+ROMULUS   it,  as  some  saye :  or  as  other  reporte,  (and  likest  to  be  true) 
+with   the   privitie   and    knowledge    of    Numitor,   Amulius 
+brother,   who   secretly   furnished    them   with    money  that 
+brought  up  the  two  young  children.     It  is  sayed  also  they 
+were  both  conveyed  unto  the  cittie  of  the  Gabians,  where 
+Romulus  and    they  were  brought  up  at  schole,  and  taught  all  other  honest 
+Remus  educa-  things,  which  they  use  to  teache  the  sonnes  and  children  of 
+^*^°"  good  and  noble  men.     Further  they  saye  they  were  named 
+
+Remus  and  Romulus,  bicause  they  were  founde  sucking  on 
+the  teates  of  a  woulfe.  Nowe  the  beawtie  of  their  bodyes 
+dyd  presently  shewe,  beholding  onely  but  their  stature  and 
+manner  of  their  countenaunces,  of  what  nature  and  linadge 
+they  were :  and  as  they  grewe  in  yeres,  their  manly  corage 
+increased  marvelously,  so  as  they  became  stowte  and  hardy 
+men,  in  so  much  as  they  were  never  troubled  or  astonied  at 
+any  daunger  that  was  offered  them.  Howbeit  it  appeared 
+plainely  that  Romulus  had  more  wit  and  understanding  then 
+his  brother  Remus.  For  in  all  things  wherein  they  were  to 
+deale  with  their  neighbours,  either  concerning  hunting,  or 
+the  boundes  and  limites  of  their  pastures  :  it  was  easely  dis- 
+cerned in  him,  that  he  was  borne  to  commaund,  and  not  to 
+obeye.  For  this  cause  they  were  both  exceedingly  beloved 
+of  their  companions,  and  of  those  which  were  their  inferiours. 
+As  for  the  kings  heardmen,  they  passed  not  muche  for  them, 
+saying  that  they  were  even  like  them  selves,  and  so  seemed 
+not  to  care  a  Pynne  for  their  anger  or  displeasure,  but  wholy 
+gave  them  selves  to  all  gentlemanly  exercises  and  trades, 
+thincking  to  live  idely  and  at  ease  without  travell,  was 
+neither  comly  nor  convenient :  but  to  exercise  and  harden 
+their  bodyes  with  hunting,  running,  pursuing  murderers 
+and  theeves,  and  to  helpe  those  which  were  oppressed  with 
+wronge  and  violence,  shoulde  be  credit  and  commendation  to 
+them.  By  reason  whereof,  in  very  shorte  time  they  grewe 
+to  great  fame  and  renowne.  And  it  fell  out  by  chaunce 
+there  rose  some  stryfe  and  variance  betwene  the  heardmen 
+of  Amulius,  and  the  heardmen  of  Numitor  :  in  so  muche  as 
+those  that  were  Numitors,  caryed  awaye  by  force  some  cattell 
+of  the  others.  Thother  side  would  not  beare  that,  but  pur- 
+sued fast  after,  and  beating  them  well  favoredly,  they  made 
+74 
+
+
+■^ 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND   ROMANES 
+
+them  take  their  legges,  and  brought  backe  againe  the  greatest  ROMULUS 
+parte  of  the  cattell  they  had  caried  away  with  them.  Wherat 
+Numitor  stormed  marveilously,  but  yet  his  men  seemed  to 
+make  but  litle  accoumpt  of  it,  and  purposing  revenge,  they 
+gathered  about  them  a  good  companie  of  vacabonds  (that 
+had  neither  home,  nor  resting  place)  and  certaine  fugitive 
+bonde  men  which  they  intised  ill  favoredly,  incoraging  them 
+to  steale  awaye  from  their  masters.  Thus  one  daye  whilest 
+Romulus  was  busie  about  some  sacrifice,  (being  a  devoute  Romulus  a 
+man  and  religious,  and  well  geven  to  serve  the  goddes,  and  godly  man. 
+to  leame  to  divine  and  tell  before  hande  what  things  should 
+liappen  and  come  to  passe)  it  happened  the  heard  men  of 
+Numitor  to  meete  Remus  very  slenderly  accompanied  :  so 
+they  fell  upon  him  sodainely,  blowes  were  delt  rowndely  on 
+bothe  sides,  and  men  were  hurte  on  either  parte.  Howbeit 
+Numitors  men  in  the  ende  proved  the  stronger  parte,  and 
+dyd  take  Remus  by  force,  and  caryed  him  straight  before  Remus  taken 
+Numitor,  alledging  many  complaintes  and  matters  against  of  Numitors 
+him.  Numitor  durst  not  punish  him  of  his  owne  authoritie, 
+bicause  he  feared  his  brother  Amulius,  who  was  somewhat 
+terrible :  but  went  unto  him,  and  earnestly  besought  him  to 
+doe  him  justice,  and  not  to  suffer  him  being  his  owne  brother, 
+to  receyve  such  injurye  of  his  men.  There  was  not  a  man  in 
+the  cittie  of  Alba,  but  dyd  greatly  mislike  the  inj  urie  done 
+to  Numitor :  and  spake  it  openly,  that  he  was  no  persone  to 
+be  offered  such  a  wronge.  In  so  muche  as  Amulius  moved 
+herewith,  dyd  deliver  Remus  into  his  handes,  to  punishe  him 
+as  he  thought  good.  Whereupon  Numitor  caried  him  home 
+with  him.  But  when  he  had  him  in  his  house,  he  beganne 
+to  consider  better  of  him,  with  admiration  howe  goodly  a 
+younge  man  he  was,  howe  in  height  and  strength  of  bodye  he 
+passed  all  the  rest  of  his  people  :  and  perceyving  in  his  face 
+an  assured  constancie,  and  bolde  stedfast  corage  that  yelded 
+not,  nor  was  abashed  for  any  daunger  he  sawe  toward  him : 
+and  hearing  also  the  reporte  of  his  actes  and  manhod  to  be 
+aunswerable  to  that  he  sawe :  (being  chiefly  moved  in  mine 
+opinion  by  some  secret  inspiration  of  the  goddes,  which 
+ordaine  the  depthe  of  great  matters)  beganne  partely  by  Gods  provi- 
+conjecture,  and  partely  by  chaunce  to  take  a  conceit  of  him.  dence. 
+
+75 
+
+
+ROMULUS 
+
+
+Remus  ora- 
+tion, declar- 
+ing the  birth 
+ofhim  self  and 
+his  brother 
+Romulus. 
+
+
+Numitors 
+wisdome. 
+
+
+Faustulus 
+care  to  save 
+Remus. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+So  he  asked  him  what  he  was,  and  who  was  his  father  and 
+mother :  speaking  to  him  in  a  more  gentle  wise,  and  with  a 
+friendlier  countenaunce  then  before,  to  make  him  the  bolder 
+to  answer,  and  be  of  better  hope.  Remus  boldly  aunswered 
+him.  Truely  I  will  not  hide  the  trothe  from  thee,  for  thou 
+seemest  to  me  more  worthie  to  be  King,  then  thy  brother 
+Amulius.  For  thou  enquierest,  and  hearest  first  before 
+thou  condemnest :  and  he  condemneth  before  he  examine  or 
+heare  the  parties.  Untill  nowe,  we  thought  we  had  bene 
+the  children  of  two  of  the  Kings  servants,  to  wit  of  Faustulus 
+and  of  Laurentia :  I  saye  we,  bicause  my  brother  and  I  are 
+two  twynnes.  But  seeing  we  are  nowe  falsely  accused  unto 
+thee,  and  by  malicious  surmised  tales  are  wrongefuUy  brought 
+in  daunger  of  our  lives :  we  intend  to  discover  our  selves, 
+and  to  declare  straunge  things  unto  thee,  whereof  the  pre- 
+sent perill  we  stande  nowe  in,  shall  plainely  prove  the  trothe. 
+Men  saye  that  we  have  bene  begotten  miraculously,  fostered 
+and  geven  sucke  more  straungely,  and  in  our  tender  yeres 
+were  fedd  by  birdes  and  wilde  beasts,  to  whom  we  were  cast 
+out  as  a  praye.  For  a  woulfe  gave  us  sucke  with  her  teates, 
+and  an  hitwaw  (they  saye)  brought  us  litle  crommes,  and  put 
+them  in  our  mouthes,  as  we  laye  upon  the  bancke  by  the 
+river,  where  we  were  put  in  a  troughe  that  at  this  daye 
+remaineth  whole,  bounde  about  with  plates  of  copper,  upon 
+the  which  are  some  letters  engraven  halfe  worne  out,  which 
+peradventure  one  daye  will  serve  for  some  tokens  of  know- 
+ledge (unprofitable  for  our  parents)  when  it  shalbe  to  late, 
+and  after  we  are  dead  and  gone.  Numitor  then  comparing 
+these  wordes,  with  the  age  the  younge  man  seemed  to  be  of, 
+and  considering  well  his  face :  dyd  not  reject  the  hope  of 
+his  imagination  that  smiled  on  him,  but  handled  the  matter 
+so,  that  he  found  meanes  to  speake  secretly  with  his  daughter, 
+notwithstanding  at  that  time  she  was  kept  very  straightly. 
+Faustulus  in  the  meane  time  hearing  that  Remus  was  prisoner, 
+and  that  the  King  had  delivered  him  already  into  the  hands 
+of  his  brother  Numitor  to  doe  justice,  went  to  praye  Romulus 
+to  helpe  him,  and  tolde  him  then  whose  children  they  were : 
+for  before  he  had  never  opened  it  to  them  but  in  darcke 
+speaches,  and  glawnsingwise,  and  so  muche  as  sufficed  to  put 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+them  in  some  hope.  So  Faustulus  taking  the  troughe  with  ROMULUS 
+him  at  that  time,  went  unto  Numitor  in  great  haste,  as 
+marveilously  afFrayed  for  the  present  daunger  he  thought 
+Remus  in.  The  Kings  souldiers  which  warded  at  the  gates 
+of  the  cittie,  beganne  to  gather  some  suspition  of  Faustulus 
+manner  of  comming  :  and  he  made  him  selfe  to  be  the  more 
+suspected,  being  questioned  with  about  the  cause  of  his 
+repaire  thither,  that  he  faltred  in  his  wordes :  besides,  they 
+espied  his  troughe  which  he  caried  under  his  cloke.  Nowe 
+amongest  the  warders,  there  was  by  chaunce  one  that  was 
+the  man  to  whom  the  children  were  committed  to  be  cast 
+awaye,  and  was  present  when  they  were  left  on  the  bancke 
+of  the  river  to  the  mercie  of  fortune.  This  man  knewe  the 
+troughe  by  and  by,  aswell  by  the  facion,  as  by  the  letters 
+graven  upon  it :  who  mistrusted  straight  that  which  was 
+true  in  deede.  So  he  dyd  not  neglect  the  thing,  but  went 
+forthwith  to  the  King  to  tell  him  the  matter,  and  led  Faus- 
+tulus with  him  to  have  him  confesse  the  trothe.  Faustulus 
+being  in  this  perplexitie,  could  not  kepe  all  close  upon 
+examination,  but  dyd  utter  out  somewhat  of  the  matter, 
+and  yet  he  tolde  not  all.  For  he  plainely  justified  the 
+children  were  alive :  yet  he  sayed  they  were  farre  from  the 
+cittie  of  Alba,  where  they  kept  beastes  in  the  fields.  And 
+as  for  the  troughe,  he  was  going  to  carye  it  to  Ilia,  bicause 
+she  had  divers  times  prayed  him  to  let  her  see  and  feele  it : 
+to  the  ende  she  might  be  the  more  assured  of  her  hope,  who 
+promised  her  that  one  daye  she  should  see  her  children 
+againe.  So  it  chaunced  unto  Amulius  at  that  time,  as  it  Amulius  per- 
+commonly  dothe  unto  those  that  are  troubled,  and  doe  any  plexed  in  his 
+thing  in  feare  or  anger,  as  a  man  amazed  thereat,  to  send  """'i®- 
+one  presently  (who  in  all  other  things  was  a  very  honest  man, 
+but  a  great  friende  of  his  brother  Numitors)  to  aske  him  if 
+lie  had  heard  any  thing  that  his  daughters  children  were  alive. 
+This  persone  being  come  to  Numitors  house,  founde  him 
+ready  to  embrace  Remus,  who  fell  to  be  witnes  thereof,  and 
+of  the  good  happe  discovered  unto  Numitor  :  whereupon  he 
+perswaded  him  howe  to  set  upon  liis  brother,  and  to  dis- 
+patche  the  matter  with  spede.  So  from  that  time  forwards, 
+he  tooke  their  parte.     On  thother  side  also  the  matter  gave 
+
+77 
+
+
+/^ 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE   NOBLE 
+
+ROMULUS  them  no  leisure  to  deferre  their  enterprise,  although  they 
+had  bene  willing :  for  the  whole  case  was  somewhat  blowen 
+abroade.  So  Romulus  then  got  straight  a  power,  and  drewe 
+very  neere  the  cittie,  and  many  of  the  citizens  of  Alba  went 
+out  to  joyne  with  him,  who  either  feared  or  hated  Amulius. 
+Nowe  Romulus  power  which  he  brought  (over  and  besides 
+those  citizens)  was  a  good  number  of  fighting  men,  and  they 
+were  divided  by  hundreds,  and  every  hundred  had  his  cap- 
+taine  who  marched  before  his  bande,  carying  litle  bundells 
+of  grasse  or  of  boughes  tyed  to  the  ende  of  their  poles.  The 
+Latines  call  these  bundels  Manipulos,  whereof  it  commeth 
+that  yet  at  this  daye  in  an  armie  of  the  Romaines,  the 
+souldiers  which  are  all  under  one  ensigne,  are  called  Manipu- 
+lares.  So  Remus  sturring  up  those  that  were  within  the 
+cittie,  and  Romulus  bringing  in  men  from  without,  the 
+tyranne  Amulius  fell  in  suche  feare  and  agonie,  that  with- 
+out providing  any  thing  for  his  safety,  they  came  upon  him 
+sodainly  in  his  palace,  and  slewe  him.  Thus  you  heare  howe 
+neere  Fabius  Pictor  and  Diodes  Peparethian  doe  agree  in 
+reciting  the  storie,  who  was  the  first  in  mine  opinion  that 
+wrote  the  foundation  of  the  cittie  of  Rome :  howbeit  there 
+are  that  thincke  they  are  all  but  fables  and  tales  devised  of 
+pleasure.  But  me  thincks  for  all  that,  they  are  not  alto- 
+gether to  be  rejected  or  discredited,  if  we  will  consider 
+fortunes  straunge  effects  upon  times,  and  of  the  greatnes 
+also  of  the  Romaine  empire :  which  had  never  atchieved  to 
+her  present  possessed  power  and  authoritie,  if  the  goddes 
+had  not  from  the  beginning  bene  workers  of  the  same,  and 
+if  there  had  not  also  bene  some  straunge  cause,  and  won- 
+derfull  foundation.  Amulius  being  nowe  slayne  as  before, 
+and  after  that  all  things  were  appeased,  and  reduced  to  good 
+order  againe :  Remus  and  Romulus  would  not  dwell  in  the 
+cittie  of  Alba,  being  no  lordes  thereof,  nor  also  would  be 
+lords  of  it,  so  long  as  their  grandfather  by  the  mothers  side 
+was  alive.  Wherefore  after  they  had  restored  him  to  his 
+estate,  and  had  done  the  honour  and  duety  they  ought  unto 
+their  mother :  they  purposed  to  goe  and  build  a  cittie  in 
+those  places  where  they  had  bene  first  brought  up,  for  this 
+was  the  lionestest  culler  they  could  pretend  for  their  depart- 
+78 
+
+
+Manipulares 
+whereof  so 
+called. 
+
+
+Amulius 
+slayne. 
+
+
+The  building 
+of  Rome. 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+ing  from  Alba.     Peradventurc  they  were  enforced  so  to  doe  ROMULUS 
+Avhether  they  Avould  or  not,  for  the  great  number  of  banished 
+men,  and  fugitive  slaves  which  were  gathered  together  by 
+them  for  their  strength,  who  had  bene  utterly  lost  and  cast 
+away,  if  they  had  bene  once  discharged  by  them.     Therfore 
+it  was  of  necessitie  that  they  should  dwell  by  them  selves, 
+separated  in  some  place,  to  kepe  this  number  together  and 
+in  some  order.     For  it  is  true  that  the  inhabitants  of  the 
+cittie  of  Alba  would  not  suffer  such  banished  persones  and 
+runnagates  to  be  mingled  amongest  them,  nor  would  receave 
+them  into  their  cittie  to  be  free  among  them.     All  which 
+appeareth    sufficiently :    first,    bicause    they   tooke    awaye 
+women  by  force :  and  so  not  of  insolencie,  but  of  necessitie, 
+when  they  founde  no  man  that  would  bestow  any  of  them. 
+It  is  manifest  also  they  dyd  greately  honour  and  make  much 
+of  the  women  they  had  taken  away  before.     Furthermore, 
+when  their  cittie  beganne  a  litle  to  be  setled,  they  made  a 
+temple  of  refuge  for   all  fugitives   and  afflicted   persones, 
+which  they  called  the  temple  of  the  god  Asylaeus.     Where  Asylieus 
+there  was  sanctuarie  and  safety  for  all  sortes  of  people  that  temple,  a 
+repaired  thither,  and  could  get  into  the  temple,  for  whom  it  sanctuarie  for 
+was  alledged  they  could  not  deliver  any  bonde  man  to  his  persones  aud 
+master,  nor  detter  to   his  creditor,  nor  murtherer  to  the  fugitives, 
+justice  that  was  fled  thither  for  succor,  bicause  the  oracle  of 
+Apollo  the  Delphian  had  expressely  enjo3med  them  to  graunte 
+sanctuary  to  all  those  that  would  come  thither  for  it.     So 
+by  this  meanes  in  shorte  space  their  cittie  florished,  and  was 
+repleanished,  where  at  the  first  foundation  of  it,  they  saye 
+there  was  not  above  one  thousand  houses,  as  more  at  large 
+hereafter  shalbe  declared.     When  they  came  nowe  to  the 
+building  of  their  cittie,  Romulus  and  Remus  the  two  brethern 
+fell  sodainely  at  a  strife  together  about  the  place  where  the 
+cittie  should  be  builded.     For  Romulus  built  Rome,  which  Strife  betwixt 
+is  called  foure  square,  and  would  needes  it  should  remaine  Romulus  aud 
+in  the  place  which  he  had  chosen.     Remus  his  brother  chose  R^"^"^- 
+another  place  very  strong  of  situation,  upon  mounte  Aventine, 
+which  was  called  after  his  name  Remonium,  and  nowe  is  Remonium. 
+called  Rignarium.    Notwithstanding,  in  the  ende  they  agreed  Riguarium. 
+betwene  them  selves  this  controversie  should  be  decided,  by 
+
+79 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+ROMULUS  the  flying  of  birds,  which  doe  geve  a  happy  divination  of 
+things  to  come.  So  being  sett  in  divers  places  by  them  selves 
+to  make  observation,  some  saye  that  there  appeared  unto 
+Remus  sixe,  and  to  Romulus  twelve  vulters.  Other  saye 
+that  Remus  truely  sawe  sixe,  and  Romulus  feigned  from  the 
+beginning  that  he  sawe  twise  as  many :  but  when  Remus 
+came  to  him,  then  there  appeared  twelve  in  deede  unto 
+Romulus,  and  this  is  the  cause  why  the  Romaines  at  this 
+daye  in  their  divinations  and  soothesayings  of  the  flying  of 
+The  Romaiiis  birds,  doe  marvelously  observe  the  flying  of  the  vulters.  It 
+observe  the  j^  true  which  the  historiographer  Herodorus  Ponticus  writeth : 
+flying  of  vul-  ^Y^Q^  Hercules  rejoyced  much  when  there  appeared  a  vulter 
+to  him,  being  readie  to  beginne  any  enterprise.  For  it  is 
+the  foule  of  the  worlde  that  dothe  least  hurte,  and  never 
+marreth  nor  destroyeth  any  thing  that  man  dothe  sowe, 
+plante,  or  set :  considering  that  she  feedeth  on  carion  only, 
+and  dothe  never  hurte  nor  kill  any  living  thing.  Also  she 
+dothe  not  praye  upon  dead  fowle,  for  the  likenes  that  is 
+betwene  them  :  where  the  eagles,  the  dukes  and  the  sakers 
+doe  murther,  kill,  and  eate  those  which  are  of  their  owne 
+kynde.     And  yet  as  iEschylus  sayeth, 
+
+Needes  must  that  fowle  accompted  be  most  vile, 
+most  ravening,  and  full  of  filthie  miude. 
+
+Which  doth  him  self,  continually  defile, 
+by  praying  still  upon  his  propre  kinde. 
+
+Moreover,  other  birdes  are  allwayes  (as  a  man  would  saye) 
+before  our  eyes,  and  doe  daylie  shewe  them  selves  unto  us  : 
+where  the  vulter  is  a  very  rare  byrde,  and  hardely  to  be 
+scene,  and  men  doe  not  easely  finde  their  ayeries.  Which 
+hathe  geven  some  occasion  to  holde  a  false  opinion,  that  the 
+vulters  are  passagers,  and  come  into  these  partes  out  of 
+straunge  countryes.  The  prognosticators  also  thincke,  that 
+suche  things  which  are  not  ordinarie,  and  but  seldome  seene, 
+be  not  naturall,  but  miraculously  sent  by  the  goddes  to 
+prognosticate  something.  When  Remus  knewe  howe  his 
+brother  had  mocked  him,  he  was  very  angry  with  him.  And 
+when  Romulus  had  cast  a  dytche,  as  it  were  for  the  wall 
+about  his  cittie,  Remus  dyd  not  only  scome  it,  but  hindered 
+also  his  worke,  and  in  the  ende  for  a  mockerie  lept  over  his 
+
+80 
+
+
+^ 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+wall.     To  conclude,  he  dyd  so  much,  that  at  the  last  he  was  ROMULUS 
+slayne  there  by  Romulus  o^vne  handes  as  some  saye  :  or  as  Remus  slayne 
+other  holde  opinion,  by  the  handes  of  one  of  his  men  which  by  Romulus 
+was  called  Celer.     In  this  fight  they  slewe  Faustulus,  and  "^    ^  ^^' 
+Plistinus  also  his  brother,  who  had  holpen  him  to  bring  up 
+Romulus.    Howsoever  the  matter  fell  out,  this  Celer  absented 
+him  selfe  from  Rome,  and  went  into  the  countrye  of  Thus- 
+cane.    And  they  saye,  that  men  which  are  quicke,  and  readye  Celeres  wher- 
+upon  a  sodaine,  tooke  their  names  ever  after  upon  him,  and  ^^^^  ^"  called, 
+were  called  Celeres.     As  amongest  other,  Quintus  Metellus,  Q.  Metellus 
+after  the  death  of  his  father,  having  in  very  fewe  dayes  made  *^^^^''- 
+the  people  of  Rome  to  see  a  combate  of  fensers  (called  Gladia- 
+tores)  fighting  at  the  sharpe,  they  surnamed  him  Celer,  for 
+that   the  Romaines  marvelled  howe  he  could  prepare  his 
+things  in  so  shorte  a  time.    Furthermore,  Romulus  having 
+nowe  buried   his  brother,  and  his  other  two   bringers  up 
+(called  foster  fathers)  in  the  place  they  call  Remonia :  beganne 
+then  to  buyld  and  laye  the  foundation  of  his  cittie,  sending  Romulus 
+for  men  out  of  Thuscane,  who  dyd  name  and  teache  him  layeth  the 
+particularly  all  the  ceremonies  he   had   to   observe   there,  foundation 
+according  to  their  lawes  and   ordinances  as  a  great   holy 
+mysterie.     And  first  of  all  they  made  a  rounde  dytche  in  the 
+place  called  at  this  day  Comitium,  into  which  they  dyd  cast 
+their  chiefest  and  best  things,  which  men  use  lawfully  for 
+good,  and  naturally  as  most  necessarie.     After  that  they  dyd 
+throwe  also  into  it,  a  litle  of  the  earthe,  from  whence  every 
+man  came,  and  mingled  these  all  together.     This  dytche  in 
+their  ceremonies  is  called  the  worlde,  in  Latine  Mundus,  Tlie  world, 
+even  the  selfe  same  name  the  Latines  call  the  Universal]. 
+About  this  dytche  they  dyd  trace  the  compasse  of  the  cittie 
+they  woulde  buylde,  even  as  one  would  drawe  a  circle  about 
+a  center.     This  done,  the  founder  of  the  cittie  taketh   a 
+plough,  to  which  he  fastened  a  culter  or  ploughe  share  of 
+brasse,  and  so  yoked  in  the  ploughe  an  oxe  and  a  cowe,  he 
+him  selfe  holding  the  ploughe  dyd  make  rounde  about  the 
+compasse  of  the  cittie  a  deepe  furrowe.     Those  which  fol- 
+lowed him,  had  the  charge  to  throwe  the  turves  of  earthe 
+inward  into  the  cittie,  which  the  ploughe  share  raised  up, 
+and  r.ot  to  leave  any  of  them  turned  outward.     The  furrowe 
+L  '  81 
+
+
+ROMULUS 
+
+PomcErium 
+why  so  called. 
+
+
+The  walles 
+holye. 
+
+
+The  feast  day 
+of  Romes 
+foundation 
+the21.Aprill. 
+
+
+The  feast 
+Palilia. 
+
+
+An  eclypse  of 
+the  moone  at 
+the  laying  of 
+the  founda- 
+tion of  Rome. 
+
+Varro  a  philo- 
+sopher. 
+
+Tarutius  a 
+mathemati- 
+cian. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+thus  cast  up  was  the  whole  compasse  of  their  walle,  which 
+they  call  in  Latine  Pomcerium,  by  shortning  of  the  syllables, 
+for  post  muriim  :  to  wit,  'after  wall."*  But  in  the  place  where 
+they  determined  to  make  a  gate,  they  dyd  take  of  the 
+ploughe  share,  and  drawe  the  ploughe,  with  leaving  a  certain 
+space  of  earthe  unbroken  up :  whereupon  the  Romaines  thincke 
+all  the  compasse  of  their  walles  holy  and  sacred,  except  their 
+gates.  For  if  their  gates  had  bene  hallowed  and  sanctified, 
+they  would  have  had  a  conscience  through  them  ^o  have 
+brought  in,  or  caried  out  of  the  cittie,  any  things  necessarie 
+for  the  life  of  man,  that  had  not  bene  pure  and  cleane.  Nowe 
+they  beleeve  certainely,  that  this  ceremonie  of  the  founda- 
+tion of  their  cittie  was  made  the  one  and  twentie  of  Aprill : 
+bicause  the  Romaines  doe  yet  keepe  that  daye  holy  daye, 
+and  call  it  the  feast  of  the  nativitie  of  their  countrye.  On 
+which  daye  they  dyd  not  in  olde  time  sacrifice  any  thing 
+that  had  life,  as  esteeming  that  daye  (which  was  the  nativitie 
+of  their  cittie)  to  be  most  mete  to  be  kept  cleane  and  pure 
+from  being  polluted  or  defiled  with  any  bloude.  Notwith- 
+standing before  Rome  was  buylded,  they  had  another  feast 
+called  the  sheapeheards  or  heardmens  holy  daye,  which  they 
+dyd  celebrate  upon  the  same  daye,  and  called  it  Palilia. 
+Nowe  at  this  daye  the  beginnings  of  the  moneths  with  the 
+Romaines  is  cleane  contrarie  to  the  Grecians :  yet  for  all 
+this,  they  holde  opinion  for  certaintie  that  the  daye  on 
+which  Romulus  founded  his  cittie,  was  assuredly  that  which 
+the  Grecians  call  Triacada :  that  is  to  saye,  the  thirtie  daye. 
+On  which  there  was  seene  an  eclypse  of  the  moone,  which 
+they  suppose  was  observed  by  the  Poet  Antimachus  (borne 
+in  the  cittie  of  Teos)  in  the  thirtenth  yere  of  the  sixt  Olym- 
+piade.  Likewise  in  the  time  of  Marcus  Varro  (as  a  man 
+learned,  and  one  that  had  redde  as  much  of  auncient  stories 
+as  any  Romaine)  there  was  a  friend  of  his  called  Tarutius,  a 
+great  philosopher  and  mathematician.  Who  being  geven  to 
+the  calculation  of  astronomic  for  the  delight  of  speculation 
+only,  wherein  he  was  thought  most  excellent :  it  dyd  fall  out 
+that  Varro  gave  him  this  question,  to  searche  out  what  hower 
+and  daye  the  nativitie  of  Romulus  was,  who  gathered  it  out 
+by  certaine  accidents,  as  they  doe  in  the  resolutions  of  cer- 
+8^ 
+
+
+^ 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+taine  geometricall  questions.      For  they  saye,   that  by  the  ROMULUS 
+
+selfe  same  science,  one  maye  tell  before  of  things  to  come, 
+
+and  to  happen  to  a  man  in  his  life,  knowing  certainely  the 
+
+hower  of  his  nativitie :    and  howe  one  maye  tell  also  the  The  hower  of 
+
+hower  of  his  nativitie,  when  by  accidents  they  knowe  what  a  mans  nati- 
+
+hath  happened  to  him  all  his  life.     Tarutius  dyd  the  ques-  ^^*^®  ["f^f  Y^ 
+
+tion  that  Varro  gave  him.      And  having  throughely  con-  hisTccidents^ 
+
+sidered  the  adventures,  dedes,  and  gestes  of  Romulus,  howe 
+
+long  he  lived,  and  howe  he  dyed :  all  which  being  gathered 
+
+and  conferred  together,  he  dyd  boldly  judge  for  a  certaintie, 
+
+that  he  was  conceyved  in  his  mothers  wombe,  in  the  first  Romulus 
+
+yere  of  the  seconde  Olympiade,  the  three  and  twentie  daye  nativitie  cal- 
+
+of  the  moneth  which  the  ^Egyptians  call.Ghaeac,  and  now  is  Jj^^^*^.     ^ 
+
+called  December,  about  three  of  the  clocke  in  the  morning, 
+
+in  which  hower  there  was  a  whole  eclypse  of  the  sunne :  An  eclypse  of 
+
+And  that  he  was  borne  into  the  worlde,  the  one  and  twenteth  the  sunne 
+
+of  the  moneth  of  Thoth,  which  is  the  moneth  of  September,  ^'^^^  Romu- 
+
+about  the  rising  of  the  sunne.     And  that  Rome  was  begonne  ggjygjj  j^  ^jg 
+
+by  him  on  the  ninth  daye  of  the  moneth  which  the  ^gyp-  mothers 
+
+tians  call  Pharmuthi,  and  aunswereth  now  to  the  moneth  of  wombe. 
+
+Aprill,  betweene  two  and  three  of  the  clocke  in  the  morning. 
+
+For  they  will  saye  that  a  cittie  hathe  his  revolution  and  his 
+
+time  of  continuaunce  appointed,  as  well  as  the  life  of  a  man  : 
+
+and  that  they  knewe  by  the  situation  of  the  starres,  the 
+
+daye  of  her  beginning  and  foundation.     These  things  and 
+
+suche  other  like,  peradventure  will  please  the  readers  better, 
+
+for  their  straungenes  and  curiositie,  then  offend  or  mislike 
+
+them  for  their  falsehood.     No  we  after  he  had  founded  his 
+
+cittie,  he  first  and  foremost  dyd  divide  in  two  companies,  all  The  Romaine 
+
+those  that  were  of  age  to  carie  armour.     In  every  one  of  legion. 
+
+these  companies  there  were  three  thousand  footemen,  and  3000  foote- 
+
+three  hundred   horsemen :    and   they  were  called    Legions,  "i^"- 
+
+bicause  they  were  sorted  of  the  chosen  men  that  were  pvckt         horse- 
+
+•  111611 
+
+out  amongest  all  the  rest  for  to  fight.     The  remaine  after 
+these  was  called  Populus,  which  signifieth  the  people.     After 
+this,  he  made  a  hundred  counsellers  of  the  best  and  honestest  Romulus 
+men  of  the  cittie,  which  he  called  Patricians :  and  the  whole  instituteth 
+company  of  them  together  he  called  Senatus,  as  one  would  »  cornmon 
+saye.  the  counsell  of  the  auncients.     So  they  were  called 
+
+83 
+
+
+ROMULUS 
+
+What  the 
+Patricians  and 
+Senate  were. 
+
+
+Patres 
+Conscripti. 
+
+
+Patroni. 
+Clieutes. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+Patricians,  as  some  will  saye,  the  coimsaill  of  the  fathers 
+lawfull  children,  which  fewe  of  the  first  inhabitants  could 
+shewe.  It  maye  be,  some  will  saye  this  name  was  geven 
+them  of  Patrocinium,  as  growing  of  the  protection  they  had 
+by  the  sanctuarie  of  their  cittie,  which  worde  they  use  at 
+this  daye  in  the  selfe  same  signification  :  as  one  that  followed 
+Evander  into  Italic,  was  called  Patron,  bicause  he  was  pitie- 
+full,  and  relieved  the  poore  and  litle  children,  and  so  got  him 
+selfe  a  name  for  his  pitie  and  humanitie.  But  me  thinckes 
+it  were  more  like  the  trothe  to  saye,  that  Romulus  dyd  call 
+them  so,  bicause  he  thought  the  chiefest  men  should  have  a 
+fatherly  care  of  the  meaner  sorte  :  considering  also  it  was  to 
+teache  the  meaner  sorte  that  they  should  not  fear  th'  autho- 
+ritie  of  the  greater,  nor  envie  at  their  honours  they  had,  but 
+rather  in  all  their  causes  should  use  their  favour  and  good 
+will,  by  taking  them  as  their  fathers.  For  even  at  this 
+present,  straungers  call  those  of  the  Senate,  lordes  or  cap- 
+taines :  but  the  naturall  Romaines  call  them,  Patres  Con- 
+scripti, which  is  a  name  of  fatherhed  and  dignitie  without 
+envie.  It  is  true  that  at  the  beginning  they  were  only 
+called  Patres,  but  sithence,  bicause  they  were  many  joyned 
+unto  the  first,  they  have  bene  named  Patres  Conscripti,  as  a 
+man  should  saye,  fathers  of  recorde  together :  which  is  the 
+honorablest  name  he  could  have  devised  to  make  a  difference 
+betwext  the  Senatours,  and  the  people.  Furthermore,  he 
+made  a  difference  betweene  the  chiefer  cittizens,  and  the  baser 
+people,  by  calling  the  better  sorte  Patroni,  as  muche  to  saye, 
+as  defenders :  and  the  meaner  sorte  Clientes,  as  you  would 
+saye,  followers,  or  men  protected.  This  dyd  breede  a  mar- 
+vellous great  love  and  good  will  among  them,  making  the 
+one  much  beholding  to  the  other,  by  many  mutuall  curtesies 
+and  pleasures  :  for  the  Patrons  dyd  helpe  the  clients  to  their 
+right,  defended  their  causes  in  judgement,  dyd  geve  unto 
+them  counsaill,  and  dyd  take  all  their  matters  in  hande. 
+The  clients  againe  enterchaungeably  humbled  them  selves  to 
+their  patrons,  not  onely  in  outwarde  honour  and  reverence 
+towardes  them,  but  otherwise  dyd  helpe  them  with  money 
+to  marrie  and  advaunce  their  daughters,  or  els  to  paye  their 
+dettes  and  credit,  if  they  were  poore  or  decayed.  There  was 
+84 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+no  lawe  nor  magistrate  that  could  compell  the  patron  to  be  ROMULUS 
+a  witnes  against  his  client :   nor  yet  the  client  to  witnesse 
+against  his  patron.     So  they  increased,  and  continued,  all 
+other  rights  and  offices  of  amitie  and  friendshippe  together, 
+saving  afterwards  they  thought  it  a  great  shame  and  reproache  The  shame  of 
+for  the  better,  and  richer,  to  take  rewarde  of  the  meaner  and  the  Romaines 
+poorer.     And  thus  of  this  matter  we  have  spoken  sufficiently.  *"  "^^^  S'  *^^ 
+Moreover,  foure  moneths  after  the  foundation  of  the  cittie 
+was  layed,  Fabius  writeth,  there  was  a  great  ravishement  of 
+women.     There  are  some  which  laye  it  upon  Romulus,  who 
+being  then  of  nature  warlike,  and  geven  to  prophecies  and 
+aunswers  of  the   goddes,  foretolde   that   his   cittie   should 
+become  very  great  and  mightie,  so  as  he  raysed  it  by  warres, 
+and  increased  it  by  armes :  and  he  sought  out  this  culler 
+to  doe  mischief,  and  to  make  warre  upon  the  Sabynes.     To 
+prove  this  true,  some  saye  he  caused  certaine  of  their  maydes  The  ravishe- 
+by  force  to  be  taken  awaye,  but  not  past  thirtie  in  number,  ment  of  the 
+as  one  that  rather  sought  cause  of  warres,  then  dyd  it  for  Sabynes 
+neede  of  mariages :  which  me  thinckes  was  not  likely  to  be  ^^'"^°- 
+true,  but  rather  I  judge  the  contrarie.     For  seeing  his  cittie 
+was  incontinently  repleanished   with    people  of  all   sortes, 
+whereof  there  were  very  fewe  that  had  wives,  and  that  they 
+were  men  gathered  out  of  all  countryes,  and  the  most  parte 
+of  them  poore  and  needye,  so  as  their  neighbours  disdayned 
+them  much,  and  dyd    not   looke  they  would   longe  dwell 
+together  :  Romulus  hoping  by  this  violent  taking  of  their 
+maydes  and  ravishing  them,  to  have  an  entrie  into  alliance 
+with  the  Sabynes,  and  to  entise  them  further  to  joyne  with 
+them  in  mariage,  if  they  dyd  gentely  intreate  these  wives  Romulus 
+they  had  gotten,  enterprised  this  violent  taking  of  their  crafte  a,bout 
+maydes,  and  ravishing  of  them  in  suche  a  sorte.     First  he  *^®  t^^f^th 
+made  it  to  be  commonly  bruited  abroade  in  every  place,  that  Sabvnes 
+he  had  founde  the  altar  of  a  god  hidden  in  the  grounde,  and  daughters. 
+he  called  the  name  of  the  god,  Consus :  either  bicause  he  Census  a  god. 
+was  a  god  of  counsaill,  wherupon  the  Romaines  at  this  daye 
+in  their  tongue  call  Consilium,  which  we  call  counsell :  and 
+the  chief  magistrates  of  their  cittie  Consules,  as  we  saye  Neptuue  the 
+counsellers.     Other  saye  it  was  the  altar  of  the  god  Neptune,  god  of  horse- 
+surnamed  the  patron  of  horses.     For  this  altar  is  yet  at  this  "^^"• 
+
+85 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+ROMULUS  daye  within  the  great  listes  of  the  cittic,  and  ever  covered 
+and  hidden,  but  when  they  use  the  running  games  of  their 
+horse  race.  Other  saye  bicause  counsell  ever  must  be  kept 
+close  and  secret,  they  had  good  reason  to  kepe  the  altar  of 
+this  god  Consus  hidden  in  the  grounde.  Nowe  other  write 
+when  it  was  opened,  Romulus  made  a  sacrifice  of  wonderfull 
+joye,  and  afterwardes  proclaymed  it  openly  in  divers  places, 
+that  at  suche  a  daye  there  should  be  common  playes  in  Rome, 
+and  a  solemne  feast  kept  of  the  god  Consus,  where  all  that 
+were  disposed  to  come  should  be  welcome.  Great  numbers 
+of  people  repaired  thither  from  all  partes.  He  him  selfe 
+was  set  in  the  chiefest  seate  of  the  showe  place,  apparelled 
+fayer  in  purple,  and  accompanied  with  the  chiefe  of  his 
+cittie  about  him.  And  there  having  purposed  this  ravishe- 
+ment  you  have  heard  of,  he  had  geven  the  signe  before :  that 
+the  same  should  beginne,  when  he  should  rise  up  and  folde  a 
+playte  of  his  gowne,  and  unfolde  the  same  againe.  Hereupon 
+his  men  stoode  attending  with  their  swordes :  who  so  sone  as 
+they  perceyved  the  signe  was  geven,  with  their  swordes  drawen 
+The  execution  in  hande,  and  with  great  showtes  and  cryes  ranne  violently 
+of  the  ravish-  on  the  maydes  and  daughters  of  the  Sabynes  to  take  them 
+ment.  awaye  and  ravishe  them,  and  suffered   the  men  to  ronne 
+
+awaye,  without  doing  them  any  hurte  or  violence.  So 
+The  number  some  saye,  there  were  but  thirtie  ravished,  after  whose 
+of  the  Sabyne  names  were  called  the  thirtie  linages  of  the  people  of  Rome, 
+^^'^t"  Howbeit  Valerius  Antias    writeth,    that    there    were    five 
+
+raA  IS  e  .  hundred  and  seven   and  twentie  :    and  luba,  sixe  hundred 
+
+foure  score  and  three.    In  the  which  is  singularly  to  be  noted 
+for  the  commendation  of  Romulus,  that  he  him  selfe  dyd 
+Hersilia  take  then  but  onely  one  of  the  maydes,  named  Hersilia  : 
+
+llomuluswife.  that  afterwardes  was  the  only  cause  and  mediation  of  peace 
+betwext  the  Sabynes  and  the  Romaines.  Which  argueth 
+plainely,  that  it  was  not  to  doe  the  Sabynes  any  hurte,  nor 
+to  satisfie  any  disordinate  lust,  that  they  had  so  forcibly 
+undertaken  this  ravishement :  but  to  joyne  two  peoples  to- 
+gether, with  the  straightest  bondes  that  could  be  betweene 
+men.  This  Hersilia  as  some  saye,  was  maried  unto  one 
+Hostilius,  the  noblest  man  at  that  time  amongest  the 
+Romaines  :  or  as  others  write,  unto  Romulus  him  selfe, 
+86 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+which  had  two  children  by  her.     The  first  was  a  daughter,  ROMULUS 
+and  her  name  was  Prima,  bicause  she  was  the  first :  the  other  Romulus  first 
+was  a  Sonne,  whom  he  named  Aollius,  bicause  of  the  multitude  daughter 
+of  people  he  had  assembled  together  in  his  cittie,  and  after-  ^^J^^'^  Prima, 
+wardes  he  was  surnamed   Abillius.      Thus   Zenodotus  the  ^i^^^a^u-*^^ 
+Trcezenian  writeth,  wherein  notwithstanding  there  be  divers 
+that  doe  contrarie  him.     Among  those  which  ravished  then  Abillius. 
+the  daughters  of  the  Sabynes,  it  is  sayed  there  were  founde 
+certaine  meane  men  carying  away  a  marvellous  passing  fayer 
+one.     These  met  by  chaunce  on  the  waye,  certaine  of  the 
+chief  of  the  cittie,  who  would  have  taken  her  by  force  from 
+them,  which  they  had  done,  but  that  they  beganne  to  crye 
+they  caried   her  unto  Talassius,  who  was   a   younge  man 
+marvellously  Avell  beloved  of  every  bodye.     Which  when  the 
+others   understoode,  they  were   exceeding   glad,   and   they 
+commended  them  :    in  so  much  as  there  were  some  which 
+sodainely  turned  backe  againe,  and  dyd  accompanie  them  for 
+Talassius  sake,  crying  out  a  lowde,  and  often  on  his  name. 
+From  whence  the   custome  came,  which  to  this  daye  the 
+Romaines  synge  at  their  manages,  Talassius,  like  as  the  Thecausewhy 
+Grecians  synge  Hymeneus.     For  it  is  sayed  he  was  compted  *'^^  Romaines 
+very  happie  that  he  met  with  this  woman.      But  Sextius    ^^  synge    le 
+Sylla   a  Carthaginian   borne,   a   man  very  wise,   and   well  Talassius  in 
+learned,  tolde  me  once  it  was  the  crye  and  signe  which  mariages. 
+Romulus  gave  to  his   men,   to   beginne  the   ravishement : 
+whereupon  those  which  caried  them  awaye,  went  crying  this 
+worde  Talassius,  and  that  from  thence  the  custome  hathe  con- 
+tinued, that  they  singe  it  yet  at  their  mariages.     Neverthe- 
+les  the  most  parte  of  authors,   specially  luba,  thinckes  it 
+is  a  warning  to  remember  the  newe  maried  women  of  their 
+worke,  which  is  to  spinne,  which  the  Grecians  call  Talassia,  Talassia. 
+the  Italian  words  at  that  time  being  not  mingled  with  the 
+Greeke.     And  if  it  be  true  the  Romaines  used  this  terme  of 
+Talassia,  as  we  of  Grece  doe  use  :  we  might  by  conjecture 
+yeld  another  reason  for  it,  which  should  carie  a  better  likely- 
+hoode  and  proofe.     For  when  the  Sabynes  after  the  battell 
+had  made  peace  with  the  Romaines,  they  put  in  an  article 
+in  favour  of  the  women  in  the  treatie,  that  they  should  not 
+be  boundo  to  serve  their  husbands  in  any  other  worke,  but  in 
+
+87 
+
+
+ROMULUS 
+
+Matrimoniall 
+ceremonie  at 
+Rome. 
+
+
+Sextilis, 
+August. 
+
+Plutar.  in  his 
+proble.  Con- 
+sualia. 
+
+The  Sabynes 
+what  they 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+spinning  of  wolle.  Ever  since  this  custome  hathe  growen, 
+that  those  which  geve  their  daughters  in  mariage,  and  those 
+who  leade  the  bryde,  and  such  as  are  present  at  the  wedding, 
+speake  in  sporte  to  the  newe  maried  wife,  laughing,  Talassius : 
+in  token  that  they  doe  not  leade  the  bryde  for  any  other 
+worke  or  service,  but  to  spinne  wolle.  Thereof  this  hathe 
+bene  the  use  to  this  daye,  that  the  bryde  dothe  not  of  her 
+selfe  come  over  the  threshold  of  her  husbands  dore,  but  she 
+is  hoysed  pretely  into  the  house  :  bicause  the  Sabyne  women 
+at  that  time  were  so  lift  up,  and  caried  away  by  force.  They 
+saye  also,  that  the  manner  of  making  the  shed  of  the  new 
+wedded  wives  heare,  with  the  Iron  head  of  a  Javeling,  came 
+up  then  likewise  :  this  storie  being  a  manifest  token  that 
+these  first  mariages  were  made  by  force  of  armes,  and  as  it 
+were  at  the  swords  poynte  :  as  we  have  written  more  at  large 
+in  the  booke,  wherein  we  render  and  showe  the  causes  of  the 
+Romaines  facions  and  customes.  This  ravishement  was  put 
+in  execution  about  the  eightenth  daye  of  the  moneth  then 
+called  Sextilis,  and  nowe  named  August :  on  which  daye 
+they  yet  celebrate  the  feast  they  call  Consalia.  Nowe  the 
+Sabynes  were  good  men  of  warre,  and  had  great  numbers  of 
+people,  but  they  dwelt  in  villages,  and  not  within  inclosed 
+walles  :  being  a  thing  fit  for  their  noble  courages  that 
+dyd  feare  nothing,  and  as  those  who  were  descended  from 
+the  Lacedaemonians.  Nevertheles,  they  seeing  them  selves 
+bound  and  tyed  to  peace  by  pledges  and  hostages,  that 
+were  very  neere  allyed  unto  them,  and  fearing  their  daughters 
+should  be  ill  intreated :  sent  ambassadours  to  Romulus,  by 
+whom  they  made  reasonable  offers  and  persuasions,  that  their 
+daughters  might  be  delivered  unto  them  againe,  without  any 
+force  or  violence,  and  then  afterwardes,  that  he  would  cause 
+them  to  be  asked  in  mariage  of  their  parents,  as  bothe 
+reason  and  lawe  would  require.  To  thend  that  with  good 
+will  and  consent  of  all  parties,  both  peoples  might  contract 
+amitie  and  alliance  together.  Whereunto  Romulus  made 
+aunswer,  he  could  not  restore  the  maydes  which  his  people 
+had  taken  awaye  and  maried  :  but  most  friendly  he  prayed 
+the  Sabynes  to  be  contented  with  their  alliance.  This 
+aunswer  being  returned,  and  not  liked,  whilest  the  princes 
+88 
+
+
+9 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+and  communaltie  of  the  Sabynes  were  occupied  in  consulta-  ROMULUS 
+tion,  and  about  the  arming  of  them  selves  :  Acron  king  of  Acron  king  of 
+the  Ceninenses  (a  man  exceeding  couragious  and  skilful!  in  the  Cenin- 
+the  warres,  and  one  that  from  the  beginning  mistrusted  the  ^'^ses  maketh 
+over  bolde  and  stowte  enterprises  that  Romulus  was  likely  Romulus 
+to  attempt,  considering  the  late  ravishment  of  the  Sabynes 
+daughters,  and  howe  he  was  alreadye  greatly  dreaded  of  his 
+neighbours,  and  somwhat  untolerable,  if  he  were  not  chas- 
+ticed  and  brought  lower)  first  beganne  to  invade  him  with 
+a  puissant  armie,  and  to  make  hotte  and   violent  warres 
+upon  him.     Romulus  on  th'  other  side  prepared  also,  and 
+went  forth  to  meete  him.     When  they  were  come  so  neere 
+together  that  they  might  see  one  another,  they  sent  defiance 
+to  cache  other,  and  prayed  that  they  two  might  fight  man 
+to  man  amiddest  their  armies,  and  neither  of  theirs  to  sturre 
+a  foote.    Bothe  of  them  accepted  of  it,  and  Romulus  making 
+his  prayer  unto  lupiter,  dyd  promise,  and  made  a  vowe : 
+that  if  he  dyd  geve  him  the  victorie  to  overcome,  he  would 
+offer  up  to  him  the  armour  of  his  enemie,  which  he  dyd. 
+For  first  he  slew  Acron  in  the  field,  and  afterwards  gave  Acron  slaine 
+battell  to  his  men,  and  overthrew  them  also.     Lastely  he  in  the  field, 
+tooke  his  cittie,  where  he  did  no  hurte  nor  yet  displeasure 
+to  any,  saving  that  he  dyd  commaunde  them  to  pull  downe 
+their  houses,  and  destroy  them,  and  to  goe  dwell  with  him  at 
+Rome  :  where  they  should  have  the  selfe  same  rightes  and 
+priviledges  which  the  first  inhabitants  did  enjoy e.     There 
+was  nothing  more  enlarged  the  cittie  of  Rome,  then  this 
+manner  of  pollicie,  to  joyne  all  way  es  mito  it  those  she  had 
+overcome  and  vancquished.     Romulus  now  to  discharge  his 
+vowe,  and  in  suche  sorte  that  his  offering  might  be  acceptable 
+to  lupiter,  and  pleasaunt  to  his  cittizens  to  beholde  :  did  cut 
+downe  a  goodly  straight  growen  young  oke,  which  he  lighted 
+on  by  good  fortune,  in  the  place  where  his  campe  did  lye. 
+The  same  he  trimmed  and  dyd  set  forth  after  the  manner  of 
+victorie,  hanging  and  tying  all  about  it  in  fayer  order,  the 
+armour  and  weapons  of  king  Acron.     Then  he  girding  his 
+gowne  to  him,  and  putting  upon  his  long  bushe  of  heare,  a  gar-  Romulus 
+land  of  lawrell,  layed  the  young  oke  upon  his  right  shoulder,  triumphe. 
+and  he  first  marched  before  towards  his  cittie,  and  songe  a 
+M  89 
+
+
+ROMULUS 
+
+Thebeginning 
+of  triumphe. 
+
+
+lupiter 
+Feretrius. 
+
+
+Spolia  opima. 
+
+
+Three  Ro- 
+
+maines  onely 
+obteined 
+spolia  opima. 
+
+
+Tarquinius 
+Priscus  the 
+first  that 
+triumphed  in 
+charet. 
+
+Valerius 
+Publicola. 
+
+The  citties  of 
+Fidena,  Crus- 
+tumerium, 
+and  of  An- 
+temna  rose 
+all  against 
+Romulus. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+royall  songe  of  victorie,  all  his  armie  following  him  in  armes 
+unto  the  cittie  in  order  of  battell :  where  his  cittizens  receyved 
+him  in  all  passing  wise  and  triumphe.  This  noble  and  stately 
+entrie  ever  since  hath  geven  them  minds  in  such  sorte,  and 
+in  statelier  wise  to  make  their  triumphe.  The  offering  of 
+this  triumphe  was  dedicated  to  lupiter  surnamed  Feretrian : 
+bicause  the  Latine  worde  Ferire,  signifieth  to  hurt  and  kill : 
+and  the  prayer  Romulus  had  made,  was,  he  might  hurt  and 
+kill  his  enemie.  Such  spoyles  are  called  in  Latine,  Spolia 
+opima :  therefore  sayeth  Varro,  that  opes  signifie  riches. 
+Howbeit  me  thinckes  it  were  more  likely  to  saye,  that  they 
+were  so  named  of  this  worde  Opus,  which  betokeneth  a  dede, 
+bicause  he  must  needes  be  the  chief  of  the  armie,  that  hath 
+slayne  with  his  owne  hands  the  generall  of  his  enemies,  and 
+that  must  offer  the  spoyles  called  Spolia  opima,  as  you  would 
+saye,  his  principal  spoyles  and  dedes.  This  never  happened 
+yet  but  to  three  Romaine  captaines  onely  :  of  the  which 
+Romulus  was  the  first,  who  slew  Acron,  king  of  the  Cenin- 
+enses.  Cornelius  Cossus  was  the  second,  who  killed  Tolum- 
+nius,  the  generall  of  the  Thuscans.  Clodius  Marcellus  was 
+the  thirde,  who  slewe  Britomartus,  king  of  the  Gaules,  with 
+his  owne  hands.  And  for  the  two  last,  Cossus  and  Marcellus, 
+they  made  their  entrie  into  the  cittie,  carying  their  triumphes 
+upon  charets  triumphant :  but  Romulus  did  not  so.  There- 
+fore in  this  poynt  Dionysius  the  historiographer  hath  erred, 
+writing  that  Romulus  dyd  enter  into  Rome  upon  a  charret 
+triumphant.  For  it  was  Tarquinius  Priscus  the  sonne  of 
+Demaratus,  who  first  dyd  set  out  triumphes  in  so  stately  and 
+magnificent  showe.  Other  holde  opinion  it  was  Valerius 
+Publicola,  who  was  the  first  that  ever  entred  upon 
+triumphant  charret.  Concerning  Romulus,  his  statues  are 
+yet  to  be  scene  in  Rome,  carying  his  triumphe  a  foote. 
+After  this  overthrowe  and  taking  of  the  Ceninenses,  the 
+inhabitants  of  the  citties  of  Fidena,  Crustumerium,  and 
+Antemna,  rose  alltogether  against  the  Romaines,  whiles  the 
+other  Sabynes  also  were  a  preparing  them  selves.  So  they 
+fought  a  battell,  in  which  they  tooke  the  overthrowe  :  and 
+left  their  citties  to  the  spoyle  of  Romulus,  their  lands  to  be 
+geven  where  he  thought  good,  and  them  selves  to  be  caried 
+90 
+
+
+« 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+to  Rome.     Romulus  then  dyd  geve  their  lands  among  his  ROMULUS 
+cittizens,  except  those  lands  which  did  belong  to  the  fathers 
+of  the  maydens  that  they  had  taken  away  and  ravished. 
+For  he  was  contented  that  the  fathers  of  them  should  kepe 
+still  their  lands.     By  and  by  the  other  Sabynes  stomaking 
+thereat,  did  chuse  them  a  generall  called  Tatius,  and  so 
+went  with  a  puysant  army  toward  the  cittie  of  Rome,  where-  The  Sabynes 
+unto  to  approche  at  that  time  it  was  very  harde,  the  castell  ^^d  by  Tatius, 
+or  keepe  of  their  cittie  being  seated,  where  at  this  day  the  ^pffethedttie 
+Capitoll  standeth,  within  which  there  was  a  great  garrison,  ^f  Rome, 
+whereof  Tarpeius  was  captaine,  and  not  his  daughter  Tarpeia, 
+as  some  will  saye,  who  set  out  Romulus  as  a  foole.     But 
+Tarpeia  the  captaines  daughter,  for  the  desire  she  had  to 
+have  all  the  golde  bracelets  which  they  dyd  weare  about 
+their  armes,  solde  the  forte  to  the  Sabynes,  and  asked  for  Tarpeia  be- 
+reward  of  her  treason,  all  they  did  weare  on  their  left  armes.  trayeth  the 
+Tatius  promised  them  unto  her :  and  she  opened  them  a  gate  fetteth  in^the 
+in  the  night,  by  the  which  she  did  let  all  the  Sabynes  into  Sabynes. 
+the  castell.     Antigonus  then  was  not  alone,  who  sayed,  he  Antieronus 
+loved  those  which  did  betraye,  and  hated  them  that  had  and  Augustus 
+betrayed  :  nor  yet  Caesar  Augustus,  who  told  Rymitalces  the  Caesars  words 
+Thracian,  that   he  loved    treason,   but  he   hated  traytors.  oftraytours. 
+And  it  is  a  comon  affection  which  we  beare  to  wicked  per- 
+sons, whilest  we  stand  in  neede  of  them  :  not  unlike  for  all  A  fit  simili- 
+the  world  to  those  which  have  nede  of  the  gall  and  poyson  t"*i^- 
+of  venemous  beasts.     For  when  they  finde  it,  they  are  glad, 
+and  take  it  to  serve  their  turne  :  but  after  their  turne  is 
+served,   and   they  have   that   they  sought,    they  hate   the 
+crueltie  of  such  beasts.    So  played  Tatius  at  that  time.    For 
+when  he  was  gotten  into  the  castell,  he  commanded  the 
+Sabynes  (for  performance  of  his  promise  he  had  made  to 
+Tarpeia)  they  should  not  sticke  to  geve  her  all  they  weare 
+on  their  left  armes,  and  to  doe  as  he  did :  who  taking  from 
+his  owne  arme  first,  the  bracelet  which  he  ware,  did  cast  it 
+to  her,  and  his  target  after.     And  so  did  all  the  rest  in  like  Note  the 
+sorte,  in  so  much  as  being  borne  downe  to  the  ground  by  the  reward  of 
+weight  of  bracelets  and  targets,  she  dyed  as  pressed  to  deathe  *^^^^'*°- 
+under  her  burden.     Nevertheles  Tarpeius  self  was  atteinted,  Tarpeia  piess- 
+and  condemned  also  of  treason,  by  Romulus  order,  as  luba  e^i  *"  deathe. 
+
+91 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+ROMULUS  sayeth,  it  is  set  forth  by  Sulpitius  Galba.  They  that  write 
+nowe  otherwise  of  Tarpeia,  saying  she  was  the  daughter 
+of  Tatius,  generall  of  the  Sabynes,  and  was  forced  by 
+Romulus  to  lie  with  him,  and  how  she  was  punished  in  this 
+sorte  by  her  own  father  after  her  said  treason  committed  : 
+those  I  saye,  amongest  whom  Antigonus  is  one,  are  not  to  be 
+credited.  And  the  poet  Simylus  also  dothe  dote  most,  who 
+sayeth  Tarpeia  solde  the  Capitoll  not  to  the  Sabynes,  but  to 
+the  king  of  Gaules,  Avith  whom  she  was  in  love  :  as  in  these 
+verses  dothe  appeare. 
+
+Tarpeia,  that  mayde  of  foolishe  mynde, 
+
+which  nere  unto  the  Capitoll  did  dwell 
+(In  fervent  flames,  of  beastly  love  beblynde, 
+
+wherewith  the  king  of  Gaules  did  make  her  swell) 
+Caused  stately  Rome  surprised  for  to  be 
+
+by  enemies,  as  every  man  maye  see. 
+And  so  throughe  hope  of  his  fidelitie 
+
+betrayed  her  syre,  with  all  his  familie. 
+
+And  a  litle  after,  in  speaking  of  the  manner  of  her  deathe, 
+he  sayeth  also : 
+
+Yet  lo  :  the  Gaules,  those  worthie  men  of  might 
+threw  her  not  downe,  into  the  waves  of  Po, 
+
+But  from  their  armes,  wherewith  they  wonte  to  fight 
+they  cast  their  shields  upon  her  body  so, 
+
+That  she  surprest  with  such  an  heavy  waight, 
+
+(Ah  woefull  mayde)  to  death  was  smoothred  straight. 
+
+This  mayden  therefore  being  buried  in  the  same  place, 
+the  whole  hill  was  called  afterwardes  Tarpeius  after  her 
+name,  which  continued  untill  Tarquinius  the  King  dyd  dedi- 
+cate all  the  place  to  lupiter :  for  then  they  caryed  her  bones 
+into  some  other  place,  and  so  it  lost  her  name.  Onles  it  be 
+that  rocke  of  the  Capitoll,  which  at  this  present  time  they 
+call  Rupes  Tarpeia,  from  the  toppe  whereof  they  were  wonte 
+in  olde  time  to  throwe  doAvne  hedlong  all  wicked  offenders. 
+When  the  Sabynes  now  had  gotten  this  holde,  Romulus 
+being  exceeding  wrathe,  sent  them  a  defiaunce,  and  bad 
+them  battell  if  they  durst.  Tatius  straight  refused  not,  con- 
+sidering if  by  mischaunce  they  were  distressed,  they  had  a 
+sure  refuge  to  retire  unto.    The  place  betweene  the  two  armies 
+
+92 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+where  the  fight  should  be,  was  all  [round  about  environned  ROMULUS 
+with  litle  hilles.     So  as  it  was  playne,  the  fight  could  not  be 
+but  sharpe  and  daungerous,  for  the  discommodiousnes  of  the  The  place  of 
+place,  were  was  neither  grounde  for  any  to  flye,  nor  yet  any  the  fight  be- 
+space  for  any  longe  chase,  it  was  of  so  small  a  compasse.  twext  Romu- 
+Nowe  it  fortuned  by  chaunce,  the  river  of  Tyber  had  over-    "^*°     ^  "^' 
+flowen  the  banckes  a  fewe  dayes  before,  and  there  remained 
+in  it  a  deeper  mudde  then  men  would  have  judged,  bicause 
+the  grounde  was  so  plaine,  and  was  even  where  the  great 
+market  place  of  Rome  standeth  at  this  daye.     They  could 
+disceme  nothing  thereof  by  the  eye,  bicause  the  upper  parte 
+of  it  was  crusted,  whereby  it  was  the  more  readye  for  them 
+to  venter  upon,  and  the  worse  to  get  out,  for  that  it  dyd 
+syncke  underneathe.     So  the  Sabynes  had  gone  upon  it,  had 
+not  Curtius  daunger  sene,  which   by  good   fortune  stayed  Curtius  the 
+them.     He  was  one  of  the  noblest  and  valliantest  men  of  Sabyne. 
+the  Sabynes,  who  being  mounted  upon  a  courser,  went  on 
+a  good  waye  before  the  armie.     This  courser  entring  upon 
+the  crusted  mudde,  and  sincking  with  all,  beganne  to  plonge 
+and  struggle  in  the  myer  :  whereat  Curtius  proved  a  while 
+with  the  spurre  to  sturre  him,  and  get  him  out,  but  in  the 
+ende  seeing  it  would  not  be,  he  left  his  backe,  and  saved 
+him  selfe.     The  same  very  place  to  this  daye  is  called  after 
+his  name,  Lacus  Curtius.     The  Sabynes  then  scaping  thus  Curtius  lake, 
+this   daunger,  beganne  the  battell.     The  fight  dyd  growe  The  Sabynes 
+very  cruell,  and  endured  so  a  great  while,  the  victorie  leaning  geve  battell 
+no  more  to  the  one  side  then  to  the  other.     There  dyed  in       ^^omums. 
+a   small   space   a   great  number   of  men,  amongest  whom 
+Hostilius  was  one,  who  as  they  saye  was  the  husband  of  Hostilius 
+Hersilia,  and   grandfather  to   Hostilius  that  was   king  of  slayne. 
+Romaines  after  Numa  Pompilius.     Afterwardes  there  were 
+(as  we  may  thincke)  many  other  encounters  and  battells 
+betweene  them  :  howbeit  they  make  mention  of  the  last  above 
+all  the  rest,  wherein  Romulus  had  so  sore  a  blowe  on  liis  Romulus  hit 
+head  with  a  stone,  that  he  was  almost  felled  to  the  grounde,  *^^  the  head 
+in  so   much  as  he  was  driven  to  retire  a  litle  out  of  the  ^^^^^  ^  stoue. 
+battell.     Upon  which  occasion   the    Romaines  gave  backe 
+also,  and  drue  towardes  mount  Palatine,  being  driven  out  of 
+the  playne  by  force.     Romulus  beganne  nowe  to  recover  of 
+
+93 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+ROMULUS  the  blowe  he  had  receyved,  and  so  returned  to  geve  a  newe 
+onset,  and  cryed  out  all  he  might  to  his  souldiers  to  tarye, 
+and  shewe  their  face  againe  to  their  enemie.  But  for  all  his 
+lowde  crying,  they  left  no  flying  still  for  life,  and  there  was 
+not  one  that  durst  returne  againe.  Whereupon  Romulus 
+lyfting  up  his  handes  straight  to  heaven,  dyd  most  fervently 
+praye  unto  lupiter,  that  it  would  please  him  to  staye  the 
+flying  of  his  people,  and  not  suffer  the  Romaines  glorie  thus 
+to  fall  to  their  utter  destruction,  but  to  repaire  it  by  his 
+favour  againe.  He  had  no  soner  ended  this  prayer,  but 
+divers  of  his  men  that  fled,  beganne  to  be  ashamed  to  flye 
+before  their  King,  and  a  sodaine  boldnes  came  upon  them, 
+and  their  feare  therewithal!  vanished  awaye.  The  place  they 
+first  stayed  in  was,  where  as  nowe  is  the  temple  of  lupiter 
+Stator,  which  is  as  much  to  saye,  as  lupiter  the  stayer. 
+Afterwardes  gathering  them  selves  together  againe,  they 
+repulsed  the  Sabynes  even  to  the  place  they  call  nowe  Regia, 
+and  vmto  the  temple  of  the  goddesse  Vesta  :  where  bothe  the 
+battels  being  prepared  to  geve  a  newe  charge,  there  dyd  fall 
+out  before  them,  a  straunge  and  an  uncredible  thing  to  see, 
+which  stayed  them  they  fought  not.  For  of  the  Sabyne 
+women  whom  the  Romaines  had  ravished,  some  ranne  of  the 
+one  side,  other  of  the  other  side  of  the  battels,  with  lamenta- 
+tions, cryes,  and  showtes,  stepping  betweene  their  weapons, 
+and  among  the  slayne  bodyes  on  the  grounde,  in  suclie  sorte 
+that  they  seemed  out  of  their  wittes,  and  caried  as  it  were 
+with  some  spirites.  In  this  manner  they  went  to  finde  out 
+their  fathers  and  their  husbands,  some  carying  their  sucking 
+babes  in  their  armes,  other  having  their  heare  lose  about 
+their  eyes,  and  all  of  them  calling,  nowe  upon  the  Sabynes, 
+nowe  upon  the  Romaines,  with  the  gentelest  names  that 
+could  be  devised  :  whicli  dyd  melt  the  hartes  of  bothe  parties 
+in  suche  sorte,  that  they  gave  backe  a  litle,  and  made  them 
+place  betweene  bothe  the  battells.  Then  were  the  cryes  and 
+lamentations  of  every  one  playnely  hearde.  There  was  not  a 
+man  there  but  it  pittied  him,  as  well  to  see  them  in  that 
+pittiefuU  case,  as  to  heare  the  lamentable  wordes  they  spake : 
+adding  to  their  most  humble  petitions  and  requestes  that 
+could  be  any  waye  imagined,  passing  wise  persuasions  and 
+94 
+
+
+lupiter 
+Stator. 
+
+
+A  wonderfull 
+boldnes  of 
+women. 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+reasons  to  induce  them  to  a  peace.  For  what  offence  (sayed 
+they)  or  what  displeasure  have  we  done  to  you,  that  we 
+should  deserve  suchc  an  heape  of  evills,  as  we  have  already 
+suffered,  and  yet  you  make  us  beare  ?  we  were  as  you  knowe 
+violently  (and  against  all  lawe)  ravished  by  those,  whose 
+nowe  we  remaine.  But  oure  fathers,  oure  brethren,  oure 
+mothers  and  friends  have  left  us  with  them  so  long,  that 
+processe  of  time,  and  the  straightest  bonds  of  the  worlde, 
+have  tyed  us  nowe  so  fast  to  them,  whom  mortally  before 
+we  hated :  that  we  are  constrayned  nowe  to  be  slighted 
+thus,  to  see  them  fight,  yea  and  to  lament  and  dye  with 
+them,  who  before  unjustly  tooke  us  from  you.  For  then 
+you  came  not  to  oure  rescue  when  we  were  virgines  un- 
+touched, nor  to  recover  us  from  them  when  they  wickedly 
+assaulted  us,  poore  sowles :  but  nowe  ye  come  to  take  the 
+wives  from  their  husbands,  and  the  mothers  from  their  litle 
+children.  So  as  the  helpe  ye  thincke  to  geve  us  nowe  dothe 
+grieve  us  more,  then  the  forsaking  of  us  was  sorowfull  to 
+us  then.  Suche  is  the  love  they  have  borne  unto  us,  and 
+suche  is  the  kyndenes  we  beare  againe  to  them.  Nowe,  if 
+ye  dyd  fight  for  any  other  cause  then  for  us,  yet  were  it 
+reason  ye  should  let  fall  your  armes  for  oure  sakes  (by  whom 
+you  are  made  grandfathers  and  fathers  in  lawe,  cosins  and 
+brothers  in  lawe)  even  from  those  against  whom  you  now 
+bend  your  force.  But  if  all  this  warre  beganne  for  us,  we 
+hartely  beseeche  you  then  that  you  will  receyve  us  with  your 
+sonnes  in  lawe,  and  your  sonnes  by  them,  and  that  you  will 
+restore  unto  us  oure  fathers,  oure  brethern,  oure  kinsefolkes 
+and  friends,  without  spoyling  us  of  oure  husbands,  of  our 
+children,  and  of  our  joyes,  and  thereby  make  us  woefull 
+captives  and  prisoners  in  oure  mindes.  These  requestes  and 
+persuasions  by  Hersilia,  and  other  the  Sabyne  women  being 
+heard,  bothe  the  armies  stayed,  and  helde  everie  bodie  his 
+hand,  and  straight  the  two  generalles  imparled  together. 
+During  which  parle  they  brought  their  husbands  and  their 
+children,  to  their  fathers  and  their  brethern.  They  brought 
+meate  and  drincke  for  them  that  would  eate.  They  dressed 
+up  the  woundes  of  those  that  were  hurte.  They  caried  them 
+home  with  them  to  their  houses.     They  shewed  them  howe 
+
+95 
+
+
+ROMULUS 
+
+
+The  worfles  of 
+Hersilia  and 
+other  Sabyne 
+women  unto 
+both  armies. 
+
+
+Romulus  and 
+Tatiusimparle 
+together. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+
+ROMULUS 
+
+
+Peace  betwene 
+the  Romaines 
+and  Sabyiies. 
+
+
+Quirites  why 
+so  called. 
+
+
+Comitium. 
+
+
+The  Romaine 
+legion.  6000. 
+footemen,600, 
+horsemen. 
+
+The  Romaine 
+tribes. 
+
+
+Honours 
+geven  to 
+women. 
+
+
+they  were  mistresses  there  with  their  husbands.  They  made 
+them  see  howe  greately  they  were  accompted  of  and  esteemed : 
+yea  howe  with  a  wedlocke  love  and  reputation  they  were 
+honored.  So  in  the  end  peace  was  concluded  betwene  them, 
+wherein  it  was  articled,  that  the  Sabyne  women  which  would 
+remaine  with  their  husbands  should  tarye  still,  and  be 
+exempted  from  all  worke  or  service  (as  above  recited)  save 
+only  spinning  of  wolle.  And  that  the  Sabynes  and  Romaines 
+should  dwell  together  in  the  cittie,  which  should  be  called 
+Roma,  after  Romulus  name :  and  the  inhabitants  should  be 
+called  Quirites,  after  the  name  of  the  cittie  of  Tatius  king  of 
+the  Sabynes,  and  that  they  should  reigne  and  goveme  to- 
+gether by  a  comon  consent.  The  place  where  this  peace  was 
+concluded,  is  called  yet  to  this  daye  Comitium  :  bicause  that 
+Coire,  in  the  Latine  tongue  signiiieth  '  to  assemble.'  So  the 
+cittie  being  augmented  by  the  one  halfe,  they  dyd  choose  of 
+the  Sabynes  another  hundred  new  Patricians,  unto  the  first 
+hundred  of  the  Romaines  that  were  chosen  before.  Then 
+were  the  Legions  made  of  sixe  thousand  footemen,  and  six 
+hundred  horsemen.  After  they  divided  their  inhabitants 
+into  three  Tribes,  wherof  those  that  came  of  Romulus, 
+were  called  Ramnenses  after  his  name  :  those  that  came  of 
+Tatius  were  called  Tatienses  after  his  name  :  and  those  that 
+were  of  the  third  stocke,  were  called  Lucerenses,  as  from  the 
+Latine  word  Lucus,  called  with  us  a  grove  in  English, 
+bicause  thither  great  number  of  people  of  all  sortes  dyd 
+gather,  which  afterwards  were  made  citizens  of  Rome.  The 
+very  worde  of  Tribus  (which  signifieth  bands,  wards,  or  hun- 
+dreds) dothe  witnesse  this  beginning  of  Rome  from  wards,  or 
+hundreds.  For  hereupon  the  Romaines  call  those  at  this  daye, 
+their  Tribunes,  which  are  the  chiefe  heades  of  the  people. 
+But  every  one  of  these  principall  wardes  had  afterwards  ten 
+other  particular  wards  under  them,  which  some  thincke  were 
+called  after  the  names  of  the  thirtie  Sabyne  women  that 
+were  ravished :  but  that  semeth  false,  bicause  many  of  them 
+cary  the  names  of  the  places  they  came  from.  Howbeit  at 
+that  time  many  things  were  stablished  and  ordeined  in 
+honour  of  women :  as  to  geve  them  place,  the  upper  hande 
+in  meeting  them,  the  upper  hande  in  streets :  to  speake  no 
+96 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+fowle  or  dishonest  word  before  them,  no  man  to  unraye  him-  ROMULUS 
+selfe,  or  shew  naked  before  them :  that  they  should  not  be 
+called  before  criminall  judges  sitting  upon  homicides  and 
+murderers :  that  their  children  should  weare  about  their 
+necks  a  kind  of  a  Juell  called  Bulla,  facioned  in  manner  like 
+these  water  bubbles  that  rise  upon  the  water  when  it  begin- 
+neth  to  raine :  and  that  their  gownes  should  be  garded  with 
+purple.  Now  the  two  Kings  dyd  not  straight  conferre  to- 
+gether so  sone  as  any  occasion  of  busines  was  offered  them, 
+but  either  of  them  dyd  first  counsell  alone  with  his  hundred 
+Senatours,  and  afterwards  they  dyd  all  assemble  together. 
+Tatius  dwelt  in  the  place  where  nowe  is  the  temple  of  luno  Tatius  and 
+Moneta :  Romulus  in  the  place  called  at  this  present,  the  Romulus 
+stayers  of  the  fayer  bancke,  then  the  descent  of  mount  Pala-  ^^  ^*^^^' 
+tine,  as  they  goe  to  the  showe  place  or  great  listes,  where 
+they  saye  was  somtime  the  holy  Cornell  tree,  whereof  they  The  holy  cor- 
+make  so  great  accompt.  Romulus  one  daye  desirous  to  "ell  tree. 
+prove  his  strength,  threwe  (as  it  is  sayed)  a  darte  from 
+mount  Aventine  toward  mount  Palatine.  The  staffe  whereof 
+was  of  a  Cornell  tree  :  and  the  Iron  of  it  entred  so  deepe  into 
+the  ground  being  a  lustye  fatte  soyle,  that  no  man  could  pul 
+it  out,  although  many  proved  it,  and  did  the  best  they  could. 
+The  ground  being  very  good  and  fit  to  bring  forth  trees, 
+did  so  nourishe  the  ende  of  this  staffe,  that  it  tooke  roote, 
+and  beganne  to  spread  braunches :  so  that  in  time  it  became 
+a  fayer  great  Cornell  tree,  which  the  successours  of  Romulus 
+dyd  inclose  with  a  walle,  and  dyd  kepe  and  worshippe  it  as  a 
+very  holy  thing.  If  by  chaunce  any  went  to  see  it,  and 
+found  it  looked  not  freshe  and  grene,  but  like  a  tree  withered 
+and  dryed  awaye  for  lacke  of  moysture  :  he  went  awaye 
+straight  as  one  affrayed,  crying  to  all  he  met  (and  they  with 
+him  went  crying  still)  in  every  place,  water,  water,  as  it  had 
+bene  to  have  quenched  a  fyre.  Then  ranne  they  thither  out 
+of  all  quarters  with  vessels  of  water,  to  water  and  moyste 
+the  tree.  In  the  time  of  Caius  Caesar,  who  caused  the 
+stayers  about  it  to  be  repayred  :  they  saye  the  labourers 
+raysing  the  place,  and  digging  about  this  comell  tree,  dyd 
+by  negligence  hurte  the  rootes  of  the  same  in  suche  sorte,  as 
+afterwardes   it    dryed    up   altogether.      Nowe  the   Sabynes 
+
+N  97 
+
+
+ROMULUS 
+
+The  Sabynes 
+used  the 
+Romaines 
+moneths. 
+
+
+Feasts,  Mat- 
+ronalia,  Car- 
+mentalia, 
+Carmenta, 
+
+
+Lupercalia. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+receyved  the  moneths  after  the  manner  of  the  Romaines, 
+whereof  we  have  written  sufficiently  in  the  life  of  Numa. 
+Romulus  againe  used  the  Sabynes  sheldes :  and  both  he  and 
+his  people  chaunged  the  facion  of  their  armour  and  weapons 
+they  used.  For  the  Romaines  before  dyd  carye  litle  sheldes 
+after  the  facion  of  the  Argives.  As  for  either  of  their  holy 
+dayes  and  sacrifices,  they  kept  them  bothe  together,  and  dyd 
+not  take  awaye  any  of  them,  which  either  the  one  or  the 
+other  people  observed  before,  but  they  added  thereunto  some 
+other  newe.  As  that  which  they  call  Matronalia,  which  was 
+instituted  in  honour  of  the  women,  bicause  by  their  meanes 
+peace  was  concluded.  And  that  also  of  Carmentalia,  in  the 
+honour  of  Carmenta,  whom  some  suppose  to  be  the  goddesse 
+of  fate  or  destinie,  bicause  she  hathe  rule  and  power  over  the 
+nativities  of  men,  by  reason  whereof,  the  mothers  call  upon 
+her  often,  and  reverence  her  very  much.  Other  saye  she  was 
+the  wife  of  Evander  the  Arcadian,  who  being  a  prophetesse 
+inspired  by  the  god  Phoebus,  gave  the  oracles  in  verse, 
+wherupon  she  was  surnamed  Carmenta,  bicause  that  Car- 
+mina  in  Latine  signifie  verses  :  for  it  is  of  certaintie  that  her 
+proper  name  was  Nicostrata.  Howbeit  there  are  some  which 
+geve  another  manner  of  derivation  and  interpretation  of  this 
+worde  Carmenta,  which  is  the  liklier  to  be  true :  as  if  they 
+would  saye,  Carens  mente :  which  signifieth  '  wanting  wit,'  for 
+the  very  furie  that  taketh  them  when  they  are  inspired  with 
+the  propheticall  spirite.  For  in  Latine  Carerc,  betokeneth 
+'  to  lacke ' :  and  Mejis,  signifieth  '  wit."*  As  for  the  feast  of 
+Palilia,  we  have  tolde  of  it  before :  but  the  feast  of  Luper- 
+calia, considering  the  time  of  celebrating  thereof,  it  seemeth 
+it  is  ordeined  for  a  purification.  For  it  is  celebrated  on  the 
+unfortunate  dayes  of  the  moneth  of  Februarie,  which  are 
+called  the  purging  dayes.  The  dayes  in  the  olde  time  on 
+which  they  did  celebrate  the  same,  were  called  Februata. 
+But  the  proper  name  of  the  feast,  is  as  much  to  saye,  as  the 
+feast  of  woulves.  Wherefore  it  seemeth  to  be  a  feast  of  great 
+antiquitie,  and  instituted  by  the  Arcadians  which  came  in 
+with  Evander :  albeit  the  name  of  woulves  is  as  comon  to 
+the  females,  as  the  males,  and  so  it  might  perhappes  be 
+called,  by  reason  of  the  woulfe  that  brought  up  Romulus. 
+
+9^ 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+For  we  see  those  which  ronne  up  and  down  the  cittie  that  ROMULUS 
+daye,  and  they  call  Luperci,  doe  beginne  their  course  in  the 
+very  place  where  they  saye  Romulus  was  cast  out.     Howbeit 
+many  things  are  done,  whereof  the  originall  cause  were  hard 
+now  to  be  conjectured.     For  goates  about  a  certaine  time  of 
+the  yere  are  killed,  then  they  bring  two  young  boyes,  noble 
+mens  sonnes,  whose  foreheads  they  touch  with  the  knife  be- 
+bloudied  with  the  bloude  of  the  goates  that  are  sacrificed. 
+By  and  by  they  drye  their  forheads  with  wolle  dipped  in 
+milke.     Then  the  yong  boyes  must  laughe  immediately  after 
+they  have  dried  their  forheads.     That  done  they  cut  the 
+goates  skinnes,  and  make  thongs  of  them,  which  they  take 
+in  their  hands,  and   ronne  with   them  all  about  the  cittie 
+starck    naked    (saving    they    have    a    clothe    before    their 
+secrets)   and   so    they  strike    with    these   thonges   all   they 
+mete  in  their  wave.      The  yonge  wives  doe  never  shonne 
+them  at  all,  but  are  well  contented  to  be  striken  with  them, 
+beleeving  it  helpeth  them  to  be  with  childe,  and  also  to  be 
+easely  delivered.     There  is  another  thing  yet  in  this  feast, 
+that  these  Lupercians  which  ronne  about  the  cittie,  doe  also  The  Luper- 
+sacrifice  a  dogge.     Concerning  this  feast,  the  Poet  named  <^^^"?  ^^^ 
+Butas  dothe  write  somewhat  in  his  elegies,  where  shewing  ^^'^""'^^  » 
+the  occasion  of  the  fond  customes  and  ceremonies  of  the 
+Romaines,  he  dothe  saye  that  Romulus  after  he  had  slayne 
+Amulius,  did  runne  straight  with  great  joye  to  the  very 
+place  where  the  wolfe  gave  him  and  his  brother  sucke,  in 
+memory  of  which  running,  he  sayeth  this  feast  of  Lupercalia 
+was  celebrated  :  and  that  the  noble  mens  younger  sonnes  doe  Why  the 
+runne  through  the  cittie,  striking  and  laying  on  them  which  Lupercians 
+they  meete  in  their  way  with  their  goate  thongs,  in  token  Tu^^^A-  ""^'^ 
+that  Remus  and  Romulus  ranne  from  Alba  unto  that  place,  naked, 
+with  their  drawen  swordes  in  their  hands.     And  that  the 
+touching  of  their  forehead  with  a  bloudy  knife,  is  in  re- 
+membrance of  the  daunger  they  stoode  in  at  that  time  to 
+have  bene  slaine.     Last  of  all,  the  drying  of  their  foreheads 
+with  wolle  dipped  in  milke,  is  in  memorie  of  the  milke  they 
+sucked  of  the  woulfes.      But  Caius  Acilius   writeth,  that 
+Remus  and  Romulus  before  Rome  was  built,  did  happen  to 
+lose  their  beasts  on  a  daye,  and  after  they  had  made  certaine 
+
+99 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+ROMULUS  prayers  unto  Faunus  for  the  finding  of  them,  they  ranne  here 
+and  there  starcke  naked  as  they  went  a  seeking  of  them,  for 
+feare  they  should  have  bene  troubled  with  overmuch  heate 
+and  sweating.  And  this  is  the  cause  he  sayeth,  why  the 
+Lupercians  doe  at  this  daye  ronne  about  naked.  And  if  it 
+be  true  they  make  this  sacrifice  for  a  purging,  a  man  might 
+saye  they  might  offer  up  a  dogge  for  that  purjoose,  like  as 
+the  Graecians  in  their  sacrifices  of  purgation  doe  use  to  carie 
+out  all  their  doggs.  And  in  many  places  they  doe  observe 
+this  ceremonie,  to  drive  out  the  doggs,  which  they  call 
+Periscylacismes.  Otherwise,  if  it  be  of  a  thanckfullnes  to 
+the  woulfe  that  gave  Romulus  sucke,  and  saved  him  from 
+perishing,  that  the  Romaines  doe  solemnise  this  feast :  it  is 
+not  impartinent  they  sacrifice  a  dogge,  bicause  he  is  enemie 
+to  the  woulves.  Onles  a  man  would  saye  it  was  to  punishe 
+this  beast,  which  troubleth  and  letteth  the  Lupercians  when 
+they  runne.  Some  saye  also  it  was  Romulus,  who  first  in- 
+stituted it  a  religion  to  kepe  holy  fire,  and  that  first  ordeined 
+holie  virgines,  which  are  called  Vestales :  other  doe  ascribe 
+it  to  Numa  Pompilius.  Notwithstanding  it  is  most  certaine 
+otherwise,  that  Romulus  was  a  very  devoute  man,  and  greatly 
+skilfull  in  telling  of  things  to  come  by  the  flying  of  birds  : 
+for  which  cause  he  did  ordinarilie  carie  the  angurs  crooked 
+staffe,  called  in  Latin  Lituus.  It  is  a  rodde  crooked  at  the 
+end,  wherewith  the  augurs  or  soothsayers  when  they  sit 
+down  to  behold  the  flying  of  birds,  doe  poynte  out  and 
+marke  the  quarters  of  the  heaven.  They  carefully  kept  it 
+within  the  pallace  :  howbeit  it  was  lost  in  the  time  of  warres 
+with  the  Gaules,  when  the  cittie  of  Rome  was  taken.  After- 
+wards when  these  barbarous  people  were  chased  and  driven 
+out,  it  was  founde  againe  (as  it  is  sayed)  all  whole,  within  a 
+great  hill  or  heape  of  ashes,  having  no  manner  of  hurte, 
+where  all  things  els  about  it  had  bene  consumed  and  marred 
+with  the  fire.  He  is  sayd  to  have  made  certaine  lawes, 
+among  which  there  is  one  that  seemeth  somewhat  harde, 
+which  is  :  that  the  man  is  suffered  to  put  awaye  his  wife, 
+and  in  some  case  to  geve  her  nothing  :  and  like  libertie  is 
+not  geven  to  the  wife  to  put  awaye  her  husband.  As  if  she 
+maye  be  proved  to  have  consented  to  the  poysoning  of  her 
+100 
+
+
+The  Vestall 
+Nuiiues  aud 
+holy  fire  in- 
+stituted by 
+Romulus. 
+
+Lituus. 
+
+
+Romulus 
+lawes. 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+children,  or  to  have  counterfaited  her  husbands  keyes,  or  to  ROMULUS 
+have  committed  adulterie.     But  if  he  put  her  awaye  for  any 
+other  cause,  then  the  one  halfe  of  the  goodes  is  adjuged  to 
+the  wife,  and  the  other  moytie  to  the  goddesse  Ceres  :  and 
+he  that  putteth  away  his  wife  after  this  sorte,  is  commanded 
+further,  to  sacrifice  to  the  goddes  of  the  earth.     This  also 
+was  notable  in  Romulus,  who  having  ordeined  no  payne  nor 
+punishement  for  parricides  (that  is  for  those  that  kill  their  Parricides, 
+parents)   called   yet   all    murder   parricide,   to   shewe   how 
+detestable  that  murder  was,  and  as  for  parricides,  he  thought 
+it  unpossible.     And  it  seemed  a  great  while,  he  had  reason  No  parricide 
+to  thincke  so,  that  such  wickednes  would  never  happen  in  the  knowen  in 
+worlde.      For  in    sixe   hundred  yeres  together  it  was  not  ^^^^  ^V"^ 
+knowen  that  any  man  in  Rome  committed  suche  an  offence :  together 
+and  the  first  parricide  with  them  was  Lucius  Ostius,  after  the  ^     .      „    . 
+warres  of  Hanniball.      But  enough  touching  this  matter,  ^^e  first  man 
+Furthermore  in  the  first  yere  of  the  reigne  of  Tatius,  some  that  si  ewe  his 
+of  his  kynsemen  and  friendes  met  by  chaunce  on  the  waye  owne  father 
+certaine  ambassadours,  comming  from  the  citie  of  Laurentum  ^*  Rome, 
+unto  Rome,  whom  they  set  upon,  and  ment  to  have  robbed 
+them.     The  ambassadours  resisting  them,  and  not  willing  to  Ambassa- 
+deliver  their  money,  they  made  no  more  a  doe,  but  slewe  dours  slaine 
+them.    This  haynous  deede  being  thus  committed,  Romulus  ^•''"'"^"&  *** 
+was  of  opinion  they  shoulde  be  executed  openly  in  the  highe 
+waye  for  example.     But  Tatius  deferred  it  still  from  daye  to 
+daye,  and  dyd  allwayes  excuse  the  matter  unto  him,  which 
+was  the  only  cause,  they  fell  out  one  with  the  other.     For  in 
+all  things  els,  they  caried  them  selves  as  honestly  as  might  be 
+the  one  to  the  other,  ruling  and  governing  together,  with  a 
+common  consent  and  good  accorde.     But  the  parents  and 
+kynsefolkes  of  those  who  were  murdered,  when  they  sawe 
+they  could  have  no  justice  bicause  of  Tatius  :  watched  him 
+one   daye  as  he  sacrificed   with  Romulus,  in  the  cittie  of 
+Lavinium,  and  stabbed  him  in,  without  offering  Romulus  The  death  of 
+any   violence,   but   rather   praysed    him   for   a    good    and  Tatius  in 
+righteous  prince.     Romulus  caused  the  bodye  of  Tatius  to  Lavimum. 
+be  straight  taken  up,  and  buried  him  very  honorably  in 
+mount  Aventine,  about  the  place  nowe  called  Armilustrium.  Armilus- 
+Further  he  never  shewed  any  countenaunce  to  revenge  his  trium. 
+
+101 
+
+
+The  Sabines 
+obedience  to 
+Romulus. 
+
+
+Romulus 
+tooke  the 
+cittie  of 
+Fidena. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+ROMULUS  death.  There  are  some  Historiographers  that  write,  that 
+those  of  the  cittie  of  Laurentum  being  afeard  at  this 
+murder,  dyd  deliver  forthwith  to  Romulus  the  murderers  of 
+the  ambassadours.  He  notwithstanding  dyd  let  them  goe 
+againe,  saying  :  one  murder  was  requited  by  another.  This 
+gave  some  occasion  of  speache  to  thincke,  he  was  glad  he 
+was  rydde  of  his  companion  :  yet  the  Sabynes  neither  sturred 
+nor  rebelled  for  all  this,  but  some  of  them  were  affrayed  of 
+him  for  the  great  love  they  bare  him,  other  for  his  power  he 
+was  of,  and  other  for  the  honour  they  gave  him  as  a  god, 
+continuing  still  in  duetie  and  obedience  towards  him.  Divers 
+straungers  also  had  Romulus  valiancie  in  great  honour  :  as 
+amongest  other,  those  who  then  were  called  the  auncient 
+Latines,  which  sent  ambassadours  to  him  to  make  league  and 
+amitie  with  him.  He  devised  to  take  the  cittie  of  Fidena 
+which  was  nere  neighbour  to  Rome.  Some  saye  he  tooke  it 
+upon  a  sodaine,  having  sent  before  certen  horse  men  to  breake 
+downe  the  hookes  and  hingewes  with  force,  which  the  gates 
+hang  by  :  and  him  selfe  came  after  the  rest  of  his  armie,  and 
+stale  upon  them,  before  the  cittie  mistrusted  any  thing. 
+Other  write  that  the  Fidenates  first  invaded  his  countrye, 
+and  foraged  unto  the  very  suburbes  of  Rome,  where  they  did 
+great  harme  :  and  howe  Romulus  layed  an  ambushe  in  their 
+waye  as  they  returned  home,  and  slewe  a  great  number  of 
+them.  When  he  tooke  their  cittie,  he  did  not  rase  it,  but 
+made  a  colonye  of  it,  (as  a  place  to  send  the  overincrease  of 
+Rome  unto)  whither  he  sent  afterwards  two  thousand  five 
+hundred  Remains  to  inhabite  there :  and  it  was  on  the 
+thirtenth  daye  of  Aprill,  which  the  Romaines  call  the  Ides 
+of  the  same  moneth.  Not  long  after  there  rose  suche  a  great 
+plague  in  Rome,  that  men  died  sodainely,  and  were  not 
+sicke :  the  earth  brought  forth  no  fruite :  bruite  beasts 
+delivered  no  increase  of  their  kynde  :  there  rayned  also 
+droppes  of  bloude  in  Rome,  as  they  saye.  In  so  much  as 
+besides  the  evills  men  felt  in  this  extremitie,  they  fell  in  a 
+marveilous  feare  of  the  wrathe  of  the  goddes.  Afterwards 
+perceiving  the  like  happened  to  the  inhabitants  of  Laurentum, 
+then  every  man  judged  it  was  the  very  vengeance  and  heavie 
+hand  of  the  goddes,  who  plagued  and  punished  these  two 
+102 
+
+
+Plague  at 
+Rome. 
+
+
+It  rained 
+bloude  at 
+Rome. 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+citties  for  the  murder  committed  upon  Tatius,  and  the  ROMULUS 
+ambassadours  that  were  killed.  Whereupon  the  murderers 
+of  both  sides  were  apprehended,  and  executed  :  and  these 
+plagues  by  and  by  ceased  both  in  the  one  and  in  the  other 
+cittie.  Romulus  besides,  did  purifie  the  cities  with  certaine 
+sacrifices  that  he  devised,  which  they  keepe  still  at  this  daye, 
+at  the  gate  called  Ferentina.  But  before  the  plague  ceased, 
+the  Camerines  came  to  assaulte  the  Romaines,  and  had  over- 
+comen  all  the  countrie,  supposing  they  should  not  be  able 
+to  withstand  them,  bicause  they  had  bene  so  sore  troubled 
+with  the  plague.  Yet  notwithstanding,  Romulus  set  up  on 
+them  with  his  army,  and  wanne  the  field  of  them,  in  which 
+conflict  there  were  slaine  about  sixe  thousand  men.  After 
+the  battell  done,  he  tooke  their  cittie,  and  conveyed  to  Rome  Camerium 
+the  one  half  of  the  inhabitants  that  remained.  After  this,  taken  ot 
+he  sent  twise  as  many  Romaines  as  there  were  naturall 
+Camerians  left  at  Camerine,  to  dwell  there  among  them. 
+This  was  done  the  first  daye  of  August :  so  great  was  the 
+multitude  of  the  inhabitants  of  Rome  that  had  increased  in 
+sixteene  yeres  from  the  first  foundation  of  the  cittie.  Among 
+other  spoyles  he  got  there,  he  caried  awsy  a  charret  of  brasse 
+with  foure  horses,  which  he  caused  to  be  set  up  in  the  temple 
+of  Vulcan,  and  his  o^vne  statue  upon  it,  and  victorie  cro\vning 
+him  with  a  garland  triumphant.  His  power  being  growen 
+thus  greate,  his  weake  neighbours  did  submit  themselves 
+unto  him,  being  contented  to  live  in  peace  by  him.  His 
+stronger  neighbours  were  affrayed  of  him,  and  envied  much 
+his  greatnes,  and  dyd  take  it  no  good  policie  to  suffer  him 
+thus  to  rise  in  the  face  of  the  world,  and  thought  it  meete 
+spedilie  to  dawnte  his  glorie,  and  clippe  his  winges.  The 
+first  of  the  Thuscans  that  bent  their  power  against  him, 
+were  the  Veians,  who  had  a  great  countrie,  and  dwelled  in  a 
+stronge  and  miglitie  cittie.  To  picke  a  quarrell  to  him, 
+they  sent  to  have  redelivered  to  them  the  cittie  of  Fidena, 
+which  they  sayed  belonged  unto  them.  This  was  thought 
+not  only  unreasonable,  but  a  thing  worthy  laughing  at,  con- 
+sidering that  all  tlie  while  the  Fidenates  were  in  warre,  and 
+daunger,  the  Thuscans  never  came  to  their  ayde,  but  had 
+suffered  them  to  be  slayne,  and  then  came  to  demaunde  their 
+
+103 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+ROMULUS  lands  and  tenements,  when  other  had  possession  of  them. 
+Therefore  Romulus  having  geven  them  an  aunswer  full  of 
+mockerie,  and  derision,  they  divided  their  power  into  two 
+armies,  and  sent  the  one  against  them  of  Fidena,  and  with 
+the  other  they  marched  towards  Rome.  That  which  went 
+against  the  cittie  of  Fidena,  prevayled,  and  killed  there  two 
+thousand  Romaines :  the  other  was  overthrowen  and  dis- 
+comfited by  Romulus,  in  which  there  dyed  eight  thousand 
+Veians.  Afterwards,  they  met  againe  somewhat  neere  the 
+cittie  of  the  Fidenates,  where  they  fought  a  battell :  and  all 
+dyd  confesse,  the  chiefest  exployte  was  done  by  Romulus 
+The  incredible  owne  hands  that  daye,  who  shewed  all  the  skill  and  valliantnes 
+valiantnes  of  ^j^^t  was  to  be  looked  for  in  a  worthy  captaine.  It  seemed 
+that  daye,  he  farre  exceeded  the  common  sorte  of  men,  in 
+strength  of  bodye  and  feates  of  armes.  Nevertheles  that 
+which  some  saye,  is  hardely  to  be  credited  :  and  to  be  plaine, 
+is  out  of  all  compasse  of  beliefe  and  possibilitie.  For  they 
+write,  there  were  fourteene  thousand  men  slayne  at  that 
+battell,  and  that  more  then  halfe  of  them  were  slayne  by 
+Romulus  own  hands :  and  the  rather,  for  that  every  man 
+judgeth  it  a  vaine  bragge  and  ostentation  which  the  Mes- 
+senians  reporte  of  Aristomenes,  who  offered  in  sacrifice  to 
+the  goddes  three  hundred  beastes  of  victorie,  as  for  so  many 
+Lacedaemonians  him  self  had  slayne  in  the  battell.  Their 
+armie  being  thus  broken,  Romulus  suffered  them  to  flye  who 
+by  swiftnes  could  save  them  selves,  and  marched  with  all  his 
+power  in  good  arraye  towards  their  cittie.  The  cittizens 
+then  considering  their  late  great  losse  and  overthrowe,  would 
+not  hazard  the  daunger  of  withstanding  him,  but  went  out 
+all  together,  and  made  their  humble  petition  and  sute  for 
+Romulus  peace.     All  was  graunted  them  for  a  hundred  yeres,  save 
+
+maketli  peace   thev  should  forgoe  their  territorie  called  Septemagium,  that 
+with  the  ^^g  ^^Q  seventh  parte  of  their  countrye :  and  yeld  to  the 
+
+Romaines  all  their  salt  houses  by  the  rivers  side,  and  deliver 
+fiftie  of  their  chiefest  cittizens  for  their  pledges.  Romulus 
+made  his  entrie  and  triumphe  into  Rome  for  them,  the  daye 
+of  the  Ides  of  October,  which  is  the  fiftenth  daye  of  the 
+same  moneth,  leading  in  his  triumphe  many  prisoners  taken 
+in  those  warres  :  and  among  other,  the  generall  of  the  Veians, 
+104 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+a  very  auncient  man  who  fondly  behaved  him  selfe  in  his  ROMULUS 
+charge,  and  shewed  by  his  doings,  that  his  experience  was 
+farre  shorte  for  his  yeres  in  the  warres.     And  from  thence  it 
+commeth,  when  they  offer  to  the  goddes  to  geve  thanckes 
+for  this  victorie,  that  even  at  this  daye,  they  bring  to  the 
+capitoU  throughe  the  market  place  an  old  man  apparelled  in 
+a  purple  robe,  and  with  a  Juell  called  Bulla  about  his  necke, 
+which   the   gentlemens   young   children  weare   about  their 
+neckes :  and  a  heraulde  goeth  harde  by  him,  crying,  Who 
+buyeth  who,  the  Sardianians  ?  bicause  they  holde  opnion  the 
+Thuscans  are  come  of  the  Sardianians,  and  the  very  cittie  of 
+Veies  standeth  in  the  countrie  of  Thuscane.     This  was  the 
+laste  warre  that  Romulus  had  offered  him :  after  which  he 
+could  not  beware  of  that  which  is  wonte  to  happen  almost 
+to  all  those,  who  by  sodaine  prosperitie,  and  fortunes  speciall 
+favour,  are  raised  to  highe  and  great  estate.     For  trusting 
+to  prosperitie  and  good  successe  of  his  actes,  he  beganne  to  Prosperitie, 
+growe  more  straunge  and  stately,  and  to  carie  a  sowerer  increase  of 
+countenaunce  then  he  was  wonte  to  doe  before  :  leaving  to  P^'Y^e  and 
+be  after  his  olde  manner,  a  curteous  and  gracious  prince,  and 
+gave  him  selfe  in  facions  to  be  somwhat  like  a  tyrant,  both 
+for  his  apparell,  and  stately  porte  and  majestic  that  he  caried. 
+For  he  ware  ever  a  coate  of  purple  in  graine,  and  upon  that, 
+a  longe  robe  of  purple  culler :  and  gave  audience,  sitting  in 
+a  wyde  chayer  of  estate,  having  ever  about  him  young  men 
+called  Celeres,  as  we  would  saye,  flights  for  their  swiftnes  and  Celeres,  Ro- 
+speede  in  executing  of  his  commaundements.     Other  there  mulus  garde, 
+were  that  went  before  him,  who  caried  as  it  were  tipstaves  in 
+their  hands,  to  make  the  people  geve  roome,  and  had  leather 
+thongs  about  their  middle  to  binde  fast  streight,  all  the 
+prince  should  commaunde.     Nowe  in  olde  time  the  Latines 
+sayed,  Ligare  was  *  to  binde "" :   but  at  this  present  they  saye 
+Allig-are,  from  whence  it  commeth  that  the  ushers  and  ser- 
+geants are  called  Lictores.      Howbeit  me  thincks  it  were  Lictores, 
+more  likely  to  saye,  they  had  put  to  a  c.  and  that  before  "herefore 
+they  were  called  Litores,  without  a  c.     For  they  be  the  very  ^'^  called, 
+same  which  the  Grecians  call  Litiirgvs,  and  be  in  Englishe, 
+ministers  or  officers :  and  at  this  daye,  Leitos,  or  Leos^  in  the 
+Greeke  tongue  signifieth  the  people.     Romulus  now  after 
+O  105 
+
+
+ROMULUS 
+
+
+Romulus  cori' 
+verteth  the 
+kingdome  of 
+Alba  to  a 
+comon  weale. 
+
+
+Romulus 
+
+vanished 
+awaye  no  man 
+knew  howe. 
+
+
+The  17.  daye 
+of luly  an 
+unfortunate 
+daye  to  the 
+Romaines. 
+
+The  death  of 
+Scipio  Afri- 
+canus. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+his  grandfather  Numitor  was  dead  at  the  cittie  of  Alba,  and 
+that  the  Realme  by  inheritance  fell  to  him :  to  winne  the 
+favour  of  the  people  there,  turned  the  Kingdome  to  a  Comon 
+•  weale,  and  every  yere  dyd  chuse  a  newe  magistrate  to  minister 
+justice  to  the  Sabynes.      This  president  taught  the  noble 
+men  of  Rome  to  seeke  and  desire  to  have  a  free  estate,  where 
+no  subject  should  be  at  the  commaundement  of  a  King  alone, 
+and  where  every  man  should  commaund  and  obey  as  should 
+be  his  course.     Those  which  were  called  Patricians  in  Rome, 
+dyd  medle  with  nothing,  but  had  onely  an  honorable  name 
+and  robe,  and  were  called  to  counsaill  rather  for  a  facion, 
+then  to  have  their  advise  or  counsaile.     For  when  they  were 
+assembled  together,  they  dyd  onely  heare  the  Kings  pleasure 
+and  commaundement,  but  they  might  not  speake  one  word, 
+and  so  departed :   having  no  other  preheminence  over  the 
+Common  wealthe,  saving  they  were  the  first  that  dyd  knowe 
+what  was  done.     All  other  things  thereby  dyd  greve  them 
+lesse.     But  when  of  his  owne  mere  authoritie,  and  as  it  were 
+of  him  self,  he  would  as  pleased  him,  bestowe  the  conquered 
+lands  of  his  enemies  to  his  souldiers,  and  restore  againe  to 
+the  Veians  their  hostages  as  he  dyd :  therein  plainely  appeared, 
+how  great  injurie  he  dyd  to  the  Senate.     Whereupon  the 
+Senatours  were  suspected  afterwards  that  they  killed  him, 
+when  with  in  fewe  dayes  after  it  was  sayed,  he  vanished 
+awaye  so  straungely,  that  no  man  ever  knewe  what  became 
+of  him.     This  was  on  the  seventh  daye  of  the  moneth  nowe 
+called  luly,   which   then   was   named   Qumtilis,  leaving   no 
+manner  of  certaintie  els  of  his  deatlie  that  is  knowen,  save 
+only  of  the  daye  and  the  time  when  he  vanished,  as  we  have 
+sayed  before.     For  on  that  daye,  the  Romaines  doe  at  this 
+present   many  things,  in    remembrance   of  the   misfortune 
+which  happened  to  them  then.     It  is  no  marvell,  the  cer- 
+taintie of  his  deathe  was  not  knowen  :  seeing  Scipio  Africanus 
+was  founde  after  supper  dead  in  his  house,  and  no  man  could 
+tell,  nor  yet  dyd  know  how  he  dved.     For  some  saye  that 
+he  fainted,  and  dyed  sodainely  being  of  weake  complexion. 
+Other  saye  he  poysoned  him  self:  other  thincke  his  enemies 
+dyd  get  secretly  in  the  night  into  his  house,  and  smoothred 
+him  in  his  bed.     Yet  they  founde  his  body  laved  on  the 
+lOG  *       ' 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+ground,  that  every  body  might  at  leysure  consider,  if  they  ROMULUS 
+could  finde  or  conjecture  the  manner  of  his  death.  Howbeit 
+Romulus  vanished  away  sodainely,  there  was  neither  scene 
+pece  of  his  garments,  nor  yet  was  there  found  any  parte  of 
+his  body.  Therfore  some  have  thought  that  the  whole 
+Senatours  fell  upon  him  together  in  the  temple  of  Vulcan,  Divers 
+and  how  after  they  had  cut  him  in  peces,  every  one  caried  opinions  of 
+awaye  a  pece  of  him,  folded  close  in  the  skyrte  of  his  robe.  Romulus 
+Other  thincke  also,  this  vanishing  away  was  not  in  the 
+temple  of  Vulcan,  nor  in  the  presence  of  the  Senatours  only  : 
+but  they  saye  that  Romulus  was  at  that  time  without  the 
+cittie,  neere  the  place  called  the  goates  marshe,  where  he  The  g:oate 
+made  an  oration  to  the  people,  and  that  sodainely  the  marshe. 
+weather  chaunged,  and  overcast  so  terribly,  as  it  is  not  to 
+be  tolde  nor  credited.  For  first,  the  sunne  was  darckned  as 
+if  it  had  bene  very  night :  this  darcknes  was  not  in  a  calme 
+or  still,  but  there  fell  horrible  thunders,  boysterous  windes, 
+and  flashing  lightnings  on  every  side,  which  made  the  people 
+ronne  awaye,  and  scatter  here  and  there,  but  the  Senatours 
+kept  still  close  together.  Afterwardes  when  the  lightning 
+was  past  and  gone,  the  daye  cleared  up,  and  the  element 
+waxed  fayer  as  before.  Then  the  people  gathered  together 
+againe,  and  sought  for  the  King :  asking  what  was  become 
+of  him.  But  the  noble  men  would  not  suffer  them  to  enquire 
+any  further  after  him,  but  counselled  them  to  honour  and 
+reverence  him  as  one  taken  up  into  heaven  :  and  that  thence- 
+forth in  steade  of  a  good  King,  he  would  be  unto  them  a 
+mercifull  and  gratious  god.  The  meaner  sorte  of  people 
+(for  the  most  parte  of  them)  tooke  it  well,  and  were  very 
+glad  to  heare  thereof:  and  went  their  waye  worshipping- 
+Romulus  in  their  hartes,  with  good  hope  they  should  prosper 
+by  him.  Howbeit  some  seeking  out  the  trothe  more  egerly 
+did  comber  sore,  and  troubled  the  Patricians  :  accusing  them, 
+that  they  abused  the  common  people  with  vaine  and  fonde 
+persuasions,  whilest  them  selves  in  the  meane  time  had 
+murdered  the  King  with  their  owne  hands.  While  things 
+were  thus  in  hurly  burly,  some  saye  there  was  one  lulius 
+Proculus,  the  noblest  of  all  the  Patricians,  being  esteemed 
+for  a  marvelous  honest  man,  and  knowen  to  have  bene  very 
+
+107 
+
+
+ROMULUS 
+
+lulius  Pro- 
+culus  met 
+with  Romulus 
+after  his 
+vanishing. 
+
+
+Romulus 
+oracle  unto 
+Proculus. 
+
+
+Romulus  call- 
+ed Quirinus, 
+and  honored 
+as  a  god. 
+
+
+Aristeas  a 
+Proconnesian 
+taken  out  of 
+mens  sight 
+after  he  was 
+dead. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+familier  with  Romulus,  and  came  with  him  from  the  cittie 
+of  Alba :  that  stepped  forth  before  all  the  people,  and 
+affirmed  (by  the  greatest  and  holyest  othes  a  man  might 
+sweare)  that  he  had  met  Romulus  on  the  waye,  farre  greater 
+and  fayerer,  then  he  had  seene  him  ever  before,  and  armed 
+all  in  white  armour,  shyning  bright  like  lire :  whereat  being 
+affrayed  in  that  sorte  to  see  him,  he  asked  him  yet :  O  King, 
+why  hast  thou  thus  left  and  forsaken  us,  that  are  so  falsely 
+accused  and  charged  to  our  utter  discredit  and  shame,  by 
+thy  vanishing.  To  whom  Romulus  gave  this  aunswer.  Pro- 
+culus, it  hathe  pleased  the  goddes  from  whom  I  came,  that 
+I  should  remaine  amongest  men  so  long  as  I  dyd :  and  nowe 
+having  built  a  cittie,  which  in  glorie  and  greatnes  of  empire 
+shalbe  the  chiefest  of  the  worlde,  that  I  should  returne  againe 
+to  dwell  with  them,  as  before,  in  heaven.  Therefore  be  of 
+good  comforte,  and  tell  the  Romaines,  that  they  exercising 
+prowesse  and  temperancie,  shalbe  the  mightiest  and  greatest 
+people  of  the  worlde.  As  for  me,  tell  them  I  will  hence- 
+forth be  their  god,  protectour,  and  patron,  and  they  shall 
+call  me  Quirinus.  These  wordes  seemed  credible  to  the 
+Romaines,  aswell  for  the  honesty  of  the  man  that  spake 
+them,  as  for  the  solemne  othes  he  made  before  them  all. 
+Yet  I  wote  not  how,  some  celestiall  motion,  or  divine  inspira- 
+tion helped  it  much :  for  no  man  sayed  a  word  against  it. 
+And  so  all  suspition  and  accusation  layed  aside,  every  man 
+began  to  call  upon  Quirinus,  to  praye  unto  him,  and  to  wor- 
+shippe  him.  Truely  this  tale  is  much  like  the  tales  that  the 
+Grecians  tell  of  Aristeas  the  proconnesian,  and  of  Cleomedes 
+the  Astypalaeian.  For  they  saye,  that  Aristeas  dyed  in  a 
+fullers  worke  house,  and  his  friends  comming  to  carie  awaye 
+his  bodye,  it  fell  out  they  could  not  tell  what  became  of  it : 
+and  at  that  instant  there  were  some  which  came  out  of  the 
+fields,  and  affirmed  they  met  and  spake  with  him,  and  how 
+he  kept  his  waye  towards  the  cittie  of  Crotona.  It  is  sayed 
+also  that  Cleomedes  was  more  then  a  man  naturally  strong 
+and  great,  and  therewithall  madde,  and  furious  hastie.  For 
+after  many  desperate  partes  he  had  played,  he  came  at  the 
+last  on  a  daye  into  a  schoole  house  full  of  litle  children,  the 
+roofe  wherof  was  borne  with  one  piller,  which  he  dyd  hit 
+108 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+with  so  terrible  a  blowe  of  his  fiste,  that  he  brake  it  in  the  ROMULUS 
+middest,  so  as  the  whole  roofe  fell  and  dashed  the  poore  Cleomedes 
+children  in  peces.     The  people  ranne  straight  after  him  to  Astypalensis 
+take  him.     But  he  threwe  him  selfe  forthwith  into  a  chest,  ^'^"i^hed 
+and  pulled  the  1yd  upon  him.     He  helde  it  so  fast  downe,  py^.  of  mens 
+that  many  striving  together  all  they  could  to  open  it,  they  sights,  being 
+were  not  able  once  to  styrre  it.      Whereupon  they  brake  fast  locked  iu 
+the  chest  all  in  peces,  but  they  found  the  man  neither  quicke  *  chest, 
+nor  dead.      Whereat  they  were  marvellously  amazed,  and 
+sent  to  Apollo  Pythias,  where  the  prophetesse  aunswered 
+them  in  this  verse  : 
+
+Cleomedes  the  last  of  the  demy  goddes. 
+
+The  reporte  goeth  also  that  Alcmenes  corse  dyd  vanishe  Alcmeues 
+awaye,    as  they  caried    it  to   buriall,  and  howe  in    steade  bodyvanishec 
+thereof  they  founde  a  stone  layed  in  the  beere.     To  con-  ^gg^e^**^^ 
+elude,  men  tell   many  other  suche  wonders,  that  are  farre 
+from  any  apparance  of  trothe  :    only  bicause   they  would 
+make  men  to  be  as  goddes,  and  equall  with  them  in  power. 
+It  is  true,  that  as  to  reprove  and  denie  divine  power,  it  were 
+a  lewde  and  wicked  parte :  even  so  to  compare  earthe  and 
+heaven  together,  it  were  a  mere  foUie.     Therefore  we  must 
+let  suche  fables  goe,  being  most  certaine  that  as  Pindarus 
+sayeth  it  is  true. 
+
+Eche  living  corps,  must  yelde  at  last  to  deathe, 
+
+and  every  life  must  leese  his  vitall  breathe  : 
+The  soule  of  man,  that  onely  lives  on  hie,  The  soul 
+
+and  is  an  image  of  eternitie.  etemall. 
+
+For  from   heaven  it  came,  and  thither  againe  it  dothe 
+retunie,  not  with  the  bodye,  but  then  soonest,  when  the 
+sowle  is  furthest  of  and  separated  from  the  bodye,  and  that 
+she  is  kept  holy,  and  is  no  more  defiled  with  the  flesh.     It  is 
+that  the  philosopher  Heraclitus  ment,  when  he  sayed :  The 
+drye  light,  is  the  best  soule  which  flyeth  out  of  the  bodye,  Heraclitus 
+as  lightning  dothe  out  of  the  clowde  :    but  that  which  is  saying  of  the 
+joyned  with  the  bodye  being  full  of  corporall  passions,  is  a  soule. 
+grosse  va,pour,  darke  and  massie,  and  cannot  flame,  ryse  or 
+shoote  out  like  lightning.     We  must  not  beleeve  therefore, 
+that  the  bodyes  of  noble  and  vertuous  men,  doe  goe  up 
+
+109 
+
+
+Why  Romu- 
+lus was  called 
+Quiriuus. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+ROMULUS  together  with  their  soules  into  heaven,  against  the  order  of 
+nature.  But  this  we  are  certainely  to  beleeve,  that  by  the 
+vertues  of  their  soules  (according  to  divine  nature  and  justice) 
+they  doe  of  men  become  saincts,  and  of  saincts  halfe  goddes, 
+and  of  halfe  goddes,  entier  and  perfect  goddes :  after  that 
+they  are  perfectly  (as  it  were  by  sacrifices  of  purgation) 
+made  cleane  and  pure,  being  delivered  from  all  paine  and 
+mortalitie,  and  not  by  any  civill  ordinance,  but  in  trothe  and 
+reason,  they  receave  a  most  happie  and  glorious  ende.  Now 
+touching  Romulus  surname,  which  afterwards  was  called 
+Quirinus :  some  saye  that  it  signifieth  as  much  as  warlike  : 
+other  thinke  he  was  so  called  bicause  the  Romaines  them  selves 
+were  called  Quirites.  Other  ^^Tite,  that  men  in  olde  time 
+did  call  the  poynte  of  a  speare,  on  the  darte  it  self,  Quiris : 
+by  reason  whereof  the  image  of  luno  surnamed  Quiritides, 
+was  set  up  with  an  iron  speare,  and  the  speare  which  was 
+consecrated  in  the  Kings  pallace,  was  called  Mars.  Further- 
+more it  is  an  use  amongest  men,  to  honour  them  with  a 
+speare  or  darte,  which  have  shewed  them  selves  valiant  in 
+the  warres  :  and  that  for  this  cause  Romulus  was  surnamed 
+Quirinus,  as  who  would  saye,  god  of  the  speares  and  Avarres. 
+There  was  since  buylt  a  temple  unto  him,  in  the  hill  called 
+Quirinus,  and  so  named  of  him.  The  daye  whereon  he 
+vanished,  is  called  the  flying  of  the  people,  or  otherwise  the 
+Nones  of  the  goates.  For  on  that  daye,  they  goe  out  of  the 
+cittie  to  doe  sacrifice  in  the  place  called  the  Fenne,  or  the 
+goates  marshe :  and  the  Romaines  call  a  goate,  Capra.  As 
+they  goe  thus  together,  they  call  with  lowde  showtes  and 
+cryes  upon  divers  Romaines  names,  as  Marcus,  Cneus,  and 
+Gains,  in  token  of  the  flying  that  was  then  :  and  that  they 
+called  one  another  backe  againe,  as  they  ranne  awaye  in 
+great  feare  and  disorder.  Howbeit  other  saye,  that  it  is  not 
+done  to  shewe  the  ronning  awaye,  but  to  shewe  their  spede 
+and  diligence,  and  referre  it  to  the  storie.  Nowe  after  the 
+Gaules  that  had  taken  Rome  were  expulsed  by  Camillus, 
+the  cittie  was  so  weakned,  that  they  could  scante  recover 
+their  force  and  strength  againe :  wherfore  many  of  the 
+Thewarre  of  Latines  jo3nning  together,  went  with  a  great  mightie  armie, 
+the  Latines.  under  the  conducte  of  Livius  Posthumius,  to  warre  against 
+110 
+
+
+The  hill 
+Quirinus. 
+
+NoncB  Capra- 
+tincB. 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+the  Romaines.    This  Posthumius  brought  his  campe  as  neere  ROMULUS 
+the  cittie  of  Rome  as  he  could,  and  sent  to  the  Romaines  by  Livius 
+a  trumpet  to  let  them  understand,   how  the  Latines  were  Posthumius 
+desirous   by  newe   manages,  to  restore  their  olde  auncient  S^^^^^^- 
+amitie  and  kinred  that  was  neere  hand  decayed  betweene 
+them :  and  therefore  if  the  Romaines  would  send  them  a 
+convenient  number  of  their  daughters  and  young  widowes 
+to  marie  with  them,  they  should  have  peace,  as  they  had 
+before  time  with  the  Sabynes,  upon  the  like  occasion.     The 
+Romaines  hereat  were  sore  troubled,  thincking  that  to  deliver 
+their  women  in  such  sorte  was  no  better,  then  to  yelde  and 
+submit  them  selves  to  their  enemies.     But  as  they  were  thus 
+perplexed,  a  wayting  mayde  called  Philotis  (or  as  other  call  Philotis  a 
+her,  Tutola)  gave  them  counsell  to  doe  neither  the  one  nor  wayting 
+the  other,  but  to  use  a  pollicy  with  them,  by  meanes  whereof  "^^X"^^  ^^ 
+they  should  scape  the  daunger  of  the  warres,  and  should  also 
+not  be  tyed  nor  bounde  by  any  pledges.     The  devise  was, 
+they  should  send  to  the  Latines  her  selfe,  and  a  certaine 
+number  of  their  fayrest  bonde  maydes,   trimmed  up  like 
+gentlewomen  and  the  best  cittizens  daughters,  and  that  in 
+the  night  she  would  lifte  them  up  a  burning  torche  in  the 
+ayer,  at  which  signe  they  should  come  armed,  and  set  upon 
+their  enemies  as  they  laye  a  sleepe.     This  was  brought  to 
+passe :  and  the  Latines  thought  verely  they  had  bene  the 
+Romaines  daughters.      Philotis  fay  led  not  in  the  night  to 
+lyft  up  her  signe,  and  to  shewe  them  a  burning  torche  in  the 
+toppe  of  a  wilde  figge  tree :  and  dyd  hange  certaine  cover- 
+lets and  clothes  behinde  it,  that  the  enemies  might  not  see 
+the  light,  and  the  Romaines  contrariwise  might  decerne  it 
+the  better.     Thereupon  so  sone  as  the  Romaines  sawe  it, 
+they  ranne  with  all  spede,  calling   one   another   by  their 
+names,  and  issued  out  of  the  gates  of  the  cittie  with  great 
+haste :  and  so  tooke  their  enemies  upon  a  sodaine,  and  slewe 
+them.     In  memorie  of  which  victorie,  they  doe  yet  solemnise 
+the  feaste  called   the  Nones  of  the  goates,  bicause  of  the 
+wilde  figge  tree  called  in  Latine  Caprificus.     And  they  doe 
+feast  the  v/omen  without  the  cittie,  under  shadowes  made  of 
+the  boughe  of  figge  trees.     The  wayting  maydes,  they  ronne 
+up  and  downe,  and  plave  here  and  there  together.     After- 
+Ill 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+ROMULUS  wards  they  seeme  to  fight,  and  throwe  stones  one  at  another, 
+as  then  they  dyd  when  they  holpe  the  Romaines  in  their 
+fight.  But  fewe  writers  doe  avovve  this  tale,  bicause  it  is  on 
+the  daye  time  that  they  call  so  eche  other  by  their  names, 
+and  that  they  goe  to  the  place  which  they  call  the  goates 
+marshe,  as  unto  a  sacrifice.  It  seemeth  this  agreeth  better 
+with  the  first  historic  when  they  called  one  another  by  their 
+names  in  the  night,  going  against  the  Latines :  onles  per- 
+adventure  these  two  thinges  after  many  yeres  happened  upon 
+Romulus  age  one  daye.  Furthermore,  they  saye  Romulus  was  taken 
+and  raigne.  out  of  the  world,  when  he  was  foure  and  fiftie  yeres 
+
+of  age,  and   had    raigned    eight   and    thirtie 
+yeres  by  accompt. 
+
+
+THE  COMPARISON  OF 
+THESEUS  WITH  ROMULUS 
+
+
+By  what 
+meanes  men 
+are  provoked 
+to  great  enter-  | 
+prises.  5 
+
+
+kinj 
+
+
+meanes 
+
+
+dome)    dyd 
+to  aspire 
+
+
+HUS  have  we  declared  all  things  of  Theseus 
+and  Romulus  worthy  memorie.  But  to 
+compare  the  one  with  the  other,  it 
+appeareth  first  that  Theseus  of  his 
+owne  voluntarie  will,  without  compul- 
+sion of  any  (when  he  might  with  safety 
+have  reigned  in  the  cittie  of  Trcezen,  and 
+succeeded  his  grandfather  in  no  small 
+desire  of  him  selfe,  and  rather  sought 
+to   ereat  things :    and   that  Romulus 
+
+
+on 
+
+
+Plato  in 
+Phcedone. 
+
+
+the  other  side,  to  deliver  him  self  from  bondage  and  ser- 
+vitude that  laye  sore  upon  him,  and  to  escape  the  threatned 
+punishment  which  still  dyd  hange  over  his  head*,  was  cer- 
+tainely  compelled  (as  Plato  sayeth)  to  shewe  him  selfe 
+bardie  for  feare :  who  seeing  howe  extremely  he  was  like  to 
+be  handled,  was  of  very  force  constrained  to  seeke  adventure, 
+and  hazarde  the  enterprise  of  atteining  highe  and  great 
+things.  Moreover  the  chiefest  acte  that  ever  he  dyd  was, 
+when  he  slewe  one  onelv  tyranne  of  the  cittie  of  Alba  called 
+112 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+Amulius  :  where  Theseus  in  his  jorney  only,  as  he  travelled,  THESEU 
+gave  his  minde  to  greater  enterprises,  and  slewe  Sciron,  AND 
+Sinnis,  Procrustes,  and  Corynetes.  And  by  ridding  them  I^^^^^LUk 
+out  of  the  worlde,  he  delivered  Grece  of  all  those  cruell 
+tyrannes,  before  any  of  those  knewe  him  whom  he  had 
+delivered  from  them.  Furthermore,  he  might  have  gone 
+to  Athens  by  sea,  and  never  needed  to  have  travelled,  or 
+put  him  selfe  in  daunger  with  these  robbers,  considering  he 
+never  receyved  hurte  by  any  of  them  :  where  as  Romulus 
+could  not  be  in  safetie  whilest  Amulius  lived.  Hereupon 
+it  maye  be  alledged,that  Theseus  unprovoked  by  any  private 
+wronge  or  hurte  receyved,  dyd  set  upon  these  detestable 
+theves  and  robbers  :  Remus  and  Romulus  contrariwise,  so 
+longe  as  the  tyranne  dyd  them  no  harme,  dyd  suft'er  him  to 
+oppresse  and  wronge  all  other.  And  if  they  alledge  these 
+were  noble  dedes,  and  worthy  memorie :  that  Romulus  was 
+hurte  fighting  against  the  Sabynes,  and  that  he  slewe  king 
+Acron  with  his  owne  handes,  and  that  he  had  overcome  and 
+subdued  many  of  his  enemies.  Then  for  Theseus  on  thother 
+side  may  be  objected,  the  battell  of  the  Centauri,  the  warres 
+of  the  Amazones,  the  tribute  due  to  the  king  of  Creta  :  and 
+howe  he  ventered  to  goe  him  selfe  thither  with  the  other 
+young  boyes  and  wenches  of  Athens,  as  willingly  offering 
+him  selfe  to  be  devowred  by  a  cruell  beaste,  or  els  to  be 
+slayne  and  sacrificed  upon  the  tumbe  of  Androgens,  or  to 
+become  bondslave  and  tyed  in  captivitie  to  the  vile  service 
+of  cruell  men  and  enemies,  if  by  his  corage  and  manhodde 
+he  could  not  deliver  him  self.  This  was  such  an  acte  of 
+magnanimitie,  justice  and  glorie,  and  briefly  of  so  great 
+vertue,  that  it  is  unpossible  truely  to  be  set  out.  Surely 
+me  thinckes  the  philosophers  dyd  not  ill  define  love,  when  Love  the 
+they  sayd  she  was  a  servitour  of  the  goddes,  to  save  younge  minister  of 
+folkes,  "whom  they  thought  meete  to  be  preserved."^  For,  *^®  goddes. 
+the  love  of  Ariadne  was  in  mine  opinion  the  worke  of  some 
+god,  and  a  meane  purposely  prepared  for  Theseus  safety. 
+Therefore  the  woman  is  not  to  be  reproached  nor  blamed 
+for  the  love  she  bare  Theseus,  but  rather  it  is  muche  to  be 
+wondred  at,  that  every  man  and  woman  in  like  wise  dyd  not 
+love  him.  And  if  of  her  selfe  she  fell  in  love  with  him,  I 
+F  113 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+THESEUS  saye  (and  not  without  cause)  she  afterwards  deserved  to  be 
+-'^^^         beloved  of  a  god,  as  one  that  of  her  owne  nature  loved 
+
+ROMULUS  valiantnes  and  honour,  and  entertained  men  of  singuler 
+value.  But  both  Theseus  and  Romulus  being  naturally 
+geven  to  rule  and  raigne,  neither  the  one  nor  the  other 
+kept  the  true  forme  of  a  King,  but  bothe  of  them  dyd 
+degenerate  alike  :  the  one  chaunging  him  self  into  a  popular 
+man,  the  other  to  a  very  tyranne.  So  that  by  sundrie 
+humours,  they  both  fell  into  one  mischief  and  errour.     For 
+
+The  office  of     a  prince  above  all  things  must  keepe  his  estate  :  which  is  no 
+
+a  prince.  lesse  preserved  by  doing  nothing  uncomely,  as  by  doing  all 
+
+things  honorably.  But  he  that  is  more  severe  or  remisse 
+then  he  should  be,  remaineth  now  no  more  a  King  or  a  prince, 
+but  becommeth  a  people  pleaser,  or  a  cruell  tyrante  :  and  so 
+causeth  his  subjects  to  despise  or  hate  him.  Yet  me 
+thinckes  the  one  is  an  errour  of  to  muche  pittie  and  base- 
+nes  :  and  the  other  of  to  muche  pryde  and  crueltie.  But  if 
+we  maye  not  charge  fortune  with  all  mischaunces  happening 
+unto  men,  but  that  we  ought  to  consider  in  them  the 
+diversities  of  manners  and  passions,  seeing  anger  is  un- 
+reasonable, and  wrathe  rashe  and  passionate :  then  can  we 
+not  clere  the  one,  nor  excuse  the  other  of  extreme  rage  and 
+passion,  in  the  facte  committed  by  the  one  against  his 
+brother,  and  by  the  other  against  his  naturall  sonne.  How- 
+beit  the  occasion  and  beginning  of  anger  doth  muche  excuse 
+Theseus,  who  moved  with  the  greatest  cause  that  might  be, 
+was  put  into  suche  choller  and  passion.  But  if  Romulus 
+variaunce  with  his  brother  had  proceeded  of  any  matter  of 
+counsell,  or  cause  of  the  common  weales  :  there  is  none  so 
+simple  to  thincke,  that  his  wisdome  would  so  sodainely  have 
+set  upon  him.  Where  as  Theseus  in  contrarie  manner  killed 
+his  Sonne,  provoked  by  those  passions  that  fewe  men  can 
+avoyde  :  to  wit,  love,  jelousie,  and  false  reporte  of  his  wife. 
+Moreover  Romulus  anger  went  to  the  effect,  whereof  the 
+issue  fell  out  very  lamentable :  Theseus  anger  stretched  no 
+further,  then  to  roughe  wordes,  and  olde  folkes  curses  in 
+their  heate.  For  it  seemeth,  cursed  fortune,  and  nought 
+els,  was  the  cause  of  his  sonnes  only  mishappe,  as  forespoken 
+and  wished  for  somewhat  bv  his  father.  These  be  the 
+114 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+speciall    things  maye   be   alledged    for  Theseus.       But  for  THESEUJ 
+Romulus  this  was  a  noble  thing  in  him.     First  his  beginning         AND 
+being  very  lowe  and  meane,  and  his  brother  and  he  taken  for   RO-^IULUS 
+bonde  men,  and  the  children   of  hoggeheards,  before  they  Wherein 
+were  them  selves  all  free,  they  set  at  libertie  in  manner  all  f^omulus  was 
+the  Latines,  winning  at  one  instant  many  titles  of  glorie  ferred  before 
+and  honour  :    as   distroyers  of  their  enemies,  defenders  of  Theseus, 
+their  parents.  Kings  of  nations,  founders  of  newe  citties, 
+and  no  overthrowers  of  the  olde,  where  as  Theseus  of  many 
+habitations  and  houses  made  onely  one,  and  dyd  overthrowe 
+and  plucke  downe  divers  states,  bearing  the  names  of  auncient 
+Kings,  princes,  and  halfe  goddes  of  Attica.     All  these  also 
+dyd  Romulus  afterwards,  and  compelled  his  enemies  whom 
+he  had  overcome,  to  distroye  their  owne  houses,  and  to  come 
+and  dwell  with  their  conquerours.     And  in  the  beginning, 
+he  never  chaunged  nor  increased  any  cittie  that  was  buylt 
+before,  but  buylt  him  selfe  a  newe  cittie  out  of  the  grounde, 
+getting  all  together,  land,  countrie,  kingdome,  kinred  and 
+manages,  without  losing  or  killing  any  man :    and  to  the 
+contrarie,  rather  he   dyd  good  to   many  poore  vacabonds, 
+who  had  neither  countrie,  lands,  nor  houses,  and  desired 
+nothing  els  but  to  make  a  people  amongest  them,  and  to 
+become  cittizens  of  some  cittie.     Also  Romulus  bent  not 
+him  selfe  to  follow  theeves  and  robbers,  but  subdued  by  force 
+of  armes  many  mightie  and  puissant  people  :  he  tooke  citties, 
+and  triumphed  over  Kings  and  Princes  which  he  had  van- 
+quished in  battell.     And  touching  the  murder  of  Remus,  it 
+is  not  certainely  knowen  of  whose   hands  he  dyed.     The 
+most  parte  of  authors  doe  charge  other  with  the  death  of 
+him.     But  it  is  certaine  that  Romulus  delivered  his  mother  Romulus  love 
+from  apparant  death,  and  restored  his  grandfather  to  the  to  his  kynne. 
+royall  throne  of  .Eneas,  wlio  before  was  deposed  and  brought 
+from  a  King  to  servill  obedience,  without  any  regarde  of 
+honour   or   dignitie :    to   whom   he  dyd   many   moe   great 
+pleasures   and    services.      Besides    he    never   offended    him 
+willingly,  no  not  so  muche  as  ignorantly.      Contrarylie  I 
+thincke  of  Theseus,  who  fayling  by  negligence  to  put  out  his  Theseus 
+white  sayle  at  his  returne,  cannot  be  cleared  of  parricide,  detected  for 
+howe  eloquent  an  oration  soever  could  be   made   for  his  o""^'^*"^* 
+
+115 
+
+
+THESEUS 
+
+AND 
+ROMULUS 
+
+
+Theseus  de- 
+tected for  his 
+ravish  ements 
+of  women. 
+
+
+Romulus 
+ravishement 
+of  women 
+excused. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+excuse :  yea  though  it  were  before  the  most  favorable 
+judges  that  could  be.  Wherefore  an  Athenian  very  well 
+perceyving  that  it  was  an  harde  thing  to  excuse  and 
+defend  so  fowle  a  faulte,  dothe  fayne  that  the  good  olde 
+man  ^Egeus  having  newes  brought  him  that  his  sonnes 
+shippe  was  at  hand,  dyd  ronne  in  so  great  haste  to  his 
+castell,  to  see  his  sonne  arrive  a  farre  of,  that  as  he  ranne, 
+his  foote  hit  against  some  thing,  and  overthrewe  him  :  as 
+though  he  had  none  of  his  people  about  him,  or  that  never 
+a  man  seeing  him  ronne  so  hastely  to  the  sea  side,  dyd  make 
+haste  to  attende  and  wayte  upon  him.  Furthermore,  Theseus 
+faults  touching  women  and  ravishements,  of  the  twaine,  had 
+the  lesse  shadowe  and  culler  of  honestie.  Bicause  Theseus 
+dyd  attempt  it  very  often :  for  he  stale  awaye  Ariadne, 
+Antiope,  and  Anaxo  the  Troezenian.  Againe  being  stepped 
+in  yeres,  and  at  later  age,  and  past  mariage  :  he  stale  awaye 
+Helen  in  her  minoritie,  being  nothing  neere  to  consent  to 
+marye.  Then  his  taking  of  the  daughters  of  the  Trce- 
+zenians,  of  the  Lacedaemonians,  and  the  Amazones  (neither 
+contracted  to  him,  nor  comparable  to  the  birthe  and  linadge 
+of  his  owne  countrie  which  were  at  Athens,  and  descended 
+of  the  noble  race  and  progenie  of  Erichtheus,  and  of 
+Cecrops)  dyd  geve  men  occasion  to  suspect  that  his 
+womannishenes  was  rather  to  satisfie  lust,  then  of  any 
+great  love.  Romulus  nowe  in  a  contrarie  manner,  when 
+his  people  had  taken  eight  hundred,  or  thereabouts,  of  the 
+Sabyne  women  to  ravishe  them  :  kept  but  onely  one  for  him 
+selfe  that  was  called  Hersilia,  as  they  saye,  and  delivered  the 
+reste  to  his  best  and  most  honest  cittizens.  Afterwardes  by 
+the  honour,  love,  and  good  entertainment  that  he  caused 
+them  to  have  and  receyve  of  their  husbands,  he  chaunged 
+this  violent  force  of  ravishement,  into  a  most  perfect  bonde 
+and  league  of  amitie :  which  dyd  so  knyt  and  joyne  in  one 
+these  two  nations,  that  it  was  the  beginning  of  the  great 
+mutuall  love  which  grewe  afterwards  betwext  those  two 
+people,  and  consequently  of  the  joyning  of  their  powers 
+together.  Furthermore,  time  hath  geven  a  good  testimonie 
+of  the  love,  reverence,  constancie,  kyndenes,  and  all  matri- 
+moniall  offices  that  he  established  by  that  meanes,  betwext 
+116 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+man  and  wife.     For  in  two  hundred  and  thirtie  yeres  after-  THESEUS 
+wards,   there    was   never   man   that   durst   forsake    or   put         AND 
+awaye  his  wife,  nor  the  wife  her  husband.     And  as  among    ,       <->  ij  li  o 
+the    Grecians,    the    best    learned    men,   and    most   curious  ^  ^ ,  lyo^e 
+observers  of  antiquities  doe  knowe  his  name,  that  was  the  f^^  230  yeres 
+first  murderer  of  his    father  or  mother  :    even   so  all  the  space.    Val. 
+Romaines  knewe  what  he  was,  which  first  durst  put  away  his  Max.  sayeth 
+wife.     It  was  one  called  Spurius  Carvilius,  bicause  his  wife  '^^"• 
+was  barren  and  had  no  children.     The  effects  also  doe  agree  The  first  wife 
+with  the   testimonie   of  the   time.     For   the   Kealme   was  put  awaye  iu 
+common    unto    Kings    of   both    nations,   and    through    the  ^^"'"p- 
+alliance  of  these  manages   that  beganne   first  of  ravishe- 
+ments,  both  nations  lived  peaciblie,  and  in  equalitie,  under 
+one  civill  policie,  and  well  governed  common  weale.     The 
+Athenians    contrariewise,   by    Theseus    mariages,    dyd    get  Theseus  ma- 
+neither  love  nor  kynred  of  any  one  persone,  but  rather  they  riages  cause 
+procured  warres,  enmities,  and  the  slaughter  of  their  cittizens,  of  warres  ant 
+with  the  losse  in  the  ende  of  the  cittie  of  Aphidnes  :  and  yet 
+very  hardely,  and  by  the  mercie  of  their  enemies  (whom  they 
+honored  as  godds)  they  escaped  for  him,  the  daunger  which 
+the  Troians  suffered  afterwards,  for  the  self  acte  done  by 
+Alexander  Paris.     So  it  fell  out  at  the  last,  that  his  mother 
+Avas  not  only  in  daunger,  but  even  feelingly  suffered  like 
+miserie  and  captivitie,  which  Hecuba  dyd  afterwards,  when 
+she  was  forsaken  of  her  sonne :    onles  peradventure  those 
+things  that  they  write  of  the  imprisonment  and  captivitie 
+of  ^thra,  be  founde  false,  and  but  fables,  as  for  the  fame 
+and  memorie  of  Theseus  were  behovefull,  that  both  it,  and 
+many  other  things  also,  were  of  no  more  trothe  nor  likely-  Romulus 
+hood.      That  which  they  write   of  Romulus  divinements,  moie  accept- 
+maketh  great  difference  betwene  him  and  Theseus.      For  ^^LV^th^*^ 
+Romulus   in    his   birthe   was   preserved    by   the   marvelous  Theseus, 
+favour  of  the  goddes :   Tlieseus  to  the  contrarie,  was  be- 
+gotten against  the  goddes  will,  as  appeared  plainely 
+by  the  aunswer  of  the  oracle  to  ^geus,  that  he 
+should  not  medle  with  any  woman  in  straunge 
+and  foraine  countrie. 
+
+THE  ENDE  OF  ROMULUS  LIFE 
+
+117 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE   NOBLE 
+
+
+THE  LIFE  OF  LYCURGUS 
+
+
+Xenophon  in 
+lib.  de  Lace- 
+deemon.  Rep. 
+
+
+Of  the  Hera- 
+clides,  Pau- 
+saniasj  Dio- 
+dorus,  and 
+Cleme.  Strom. 
+lib.  I. 
+
+
+MAN  can  not  speake  any  thing  at  all  of 
+Lycurgus,  who  made  the  lawes  of  the 
+Lacedaemonians,  but  he  shall  finde  great 
+contrarietie  of  him  amongest  the  his- 
+toriographers. For,  of  his  parentage 
+and  travaill  out  of  his  countrie,  of  his 
+deathe  and  making  of  lawes,  of  his  forme 
+and  government,  and  order  of  executing 
+the  same,  they  have  written  diversely.  And  yet  above  all 
+things,  concerning  him,  they  agree  worst  about  the  time  he 
+lived  in.  For  some  of  "tfem  (nud  AmEoEIels  of  that~~ 
+number)  will  needes  have  him  to  have  bene  in  the  time  of 
+Iphytus,  and  that  he  dyd  helpe  him  to  stablish  the  ordi- 
+naunce  that  all  warres  should  cease  during  the  feast  of  the 
+games  olympicall :  for  a  testimonie  whereof,  they  alledge  the 
+copper  coyte  which  was  used  to  be  throwen  in  those  games, 
+and  had  founde  graven  upon  it,  the  name  of  Lycurgus. 
+Other  compting  the  dayes  and  time  of  the  succession  of  the 
+kings  of  Lacedaemon  (as  Eratosthenes,  and  Apollodorus) 
+saye  he  was  many  yeres  before  the  first  Olympiades.  Timaeus 
+also  thincketh  there  were  two  of  this  name,  and  in  divers 
+times  :  howbeit  the  one  having  more  estimation  then  the 
+other,  men  gave  this  Lycurgus  the  glorie  of  both  their 
+doings.  Some  saye  the  eldest  of  the  twaine,  was  not  longe 
+after  Homer  :  and  some  write  they  sawe  him,  Xenophon 
+sheweth  us  plainely  he  was  of  great  antiquitie :  saying  he 
+was  in  the  time  of  the  Heraclides,  who  were  neerest  of 
+bloude  by  descent  to  Hercules.  For  it  is  likely  Xenophon 
+ment  not  those  Heraclides,  which  descended  from  Hercules 
+self :  for  the  last  kings  of  Sparta  were  of  Hercules  progenie, 
+aswell  as  the  first.  Therefore  he  meaneth  those  Heraclides, 
+which  doubtles  were  the  first  and  nearest  before  Hercules 
+time.  Nevertheles  though  the  historiographers  have  written 
+diversely  of  him,  yet  we  will  not  leave  to  collect  that  which 
+118 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+we  finde  written  of  him  in  auncient  histories,  and  is  least  to  LYCURGUS 
+be  denied,  and  by  best  testimonies  most  to  be  prooved.  And 
+first  of  all,  the  poet  Simonides  sayeth,  his  father  was  called 
+Prytanis  and  not  Eunomus  ;  and  the  most  parte  doe  write 
+the  pettigree  otherwise,  as  well  of  Lycurgus  self,  as  of  Euno- 
+mus. For  they  saye,  that  Patrocles  the  sonne  of  Aristo-  Lycurisrus 
+demus  begate  Sous,  and  Sous  begate  Eurytion,  and  Eurytion  kinred. 
+begate  Prytanis,  and  Prytanis  begat  Eunomus,  and  Euno- 
+mus begat  Polydectes  of  his  first  wife,  and  Lycurgus  of  the 
+second  wife,  called  Dianassa:  yet  Euthychidas  an  other 
+writer,  maketh  Lycurgus  the  sixte  of  descent  in  the  right 
+line  from  Polydectes,  and  the  eleventh  after  Hercules.  But 
+of  all  his  auncesters,  the  noblest  was  Sous,  in  whose  time  the 
+cittie  of  Sparta  subdued  the  Ilotes,  and  made  them  slaves, 
+and  dyd  enlarge  and  increase  their  dominion,  with  the  lands 
+and  possessions  they  had  got  by  conquest  of  the  Arcadians. 
+And  it  is  sayed  that  Sous  him  self  being  on  a  time  straightly 
+besieged  by  the  Clitorians,  in  a  hard  drye  grounde,  where  no 
+water  could  be  founde :  offered  them  thereupon  to  restore  all 
+their  lands  againe  that  he  had  gotten  from  them,  if  he  and 
+all  his  companie  dyd  drincke  of  a  fountaine  that  was  there  A  subtill 
+not  farre  of.  The  Clitorians  did  graunte  unto  it,  and  peace  promise, 
+also  was  swome  betweene  them.  Then  he  called  all  his 
+souldiers  before  him,  and  tolde  them  if  there  were  any  one 
+amongest  them  that  would  refrayne  from  drincking,  he 
+would  resigne  his  kingdome  to  him  :  howbeit  there  was  not 
+one  in  all  his  companie  that  could  (or  would)  forbeare  to 
+drincke,  they  were  so  sore  a  thirst.  So  they  all  drancke 
+hartely  except  him  self,  who  being  the  last  that  came  dowTie, 
+dyd  no  more  but  a  litle  moyste  his  raowthe  without,  and 
+so  refreshed  him  self,  the  enemies  selves  standing  by,  and 
+drancke  not  a  droppe.  By  reason  whereof,  he  refused  after- 
+wards to  restore  their  lands  he  had  promised,  alledging  they 
+had  not  all  droncke.  But  that  notwithstanding,  he  was 
+greately  esteemed  for  his  actes,  and  yet  his  house  was  not 
+named  after  his  owne  name :  but  after  his  sonnes  name 
+Eurytion,  they  of  his  house  were  called  Eurytionides.  The 
+reason  was,  bicause  his  sonne  Eurytion  to  please  the  people, 
+dyd  first  let  fall  and  geve  over,  the  sole  and  absolute  power 
+
+119 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+
+LYCURGUS  of  a  King.  Whereupon  there  followed  afterwardes  mar- 
+veilous  disorder  and  dissolution,  which  continued  a  great 
+time  in  the  cittie  of  Sparta,  For  the  people  finding  them 
+selves  at  libertie,  became  very  bolde  and  disobedient :  and 
+some  of  the  Kinges  that  succeeded,  were  hated  even  to 
+deathe,  bicause  they  woulde  perforce  use  their  auncient 
+authoritie  over  the  people.  Other,  either  to  winne  the 
+love  and  goodwilles  of  the  people,  or  bicause  they  sawe  they 
+were  not  stronge  enough  to  rule  them,  dyd  geve  them  selves 
+to  dissemble.  And  this  dyd  so  muche  increase  the  peoples 
+lose  and  rebellious  mindes,  that  Lycurgus  owne  father  being 
+Kinge,  was  slayne  among  them.  For  one  daye,  as  he  was 
+parting  a  fraye  betweene  two  that  were  fighting,  he  had 
+suche  a  wounde  with  a  kytchin  knyfe,  that  he  dyed  :  and 
+left  his  Realme  to  his  eldest  sonne  Polydectes,  who  dyed  also 
+sone  after,  and  without  heyre  of  his  bodye  as  was  supposed. 
+In  so  muche  as  every  man  thought  Lycurgus  should  be 
+Kinge :  and  so  he  tooke  it  upon  him,  untill  it  was  under- 
+stoode  that  his  brothers  wife  was  younge  with  childe. 
+Which  thing  so  soone  as  he  perceyved,  he  published  openly, 
+that  the  Realme  belonged  to  the  childe  that  should  be 
+borne,  if  it  were  a  sonne.  After  this  he  governed  the 
+Realme,  but  as  the  Kings  lieutenante  and  regent.  The 
+Lacedfemonians  call  the  regents  of  their  Kinges  that  are 
+left  within  age,  Prodicos.  Lycurgus  brothers  widowe  dyd 
+send,  and  let  him  secretly  understande,  that  if  he  would 
+von^^Khiffs  hi  promise  to  marye  her  when  he  should  be  King,  that  she 
+ininoritie.  would  come  before  her  time,  and  either  miscarye,  or  destroye 
+that  she  went  with,  Lycurgus  detestably  abhorring  this 
+brutishe  and  savage  unnaturallnes  of  the  woman,  dyd  not 
+reject  her  offer  made  him,  but  seemed  rather  to  be  very 
+glad,  then  to  dislike  of  it.  Nevertheles  he  sent  her  worde 
+againe,  she  should  not  neede  to  trye  masteryes,  with  drinckes 
+and  medicines  to  make  her  come  before  her  time :  for  so 
+doing,  she  might  bring  her  selfe  in  daunger,  and  be  cast 
+awaye  for  ever.  Howbeit  he  advised  her  to  goe  her  full 
+time,  and  to  be  brought  a  bed  in  good  order,  and  then  he 
+would  finde  meanes  enough  to  make  awaye  the  childe  that 
+should  be  borne.  And  so  with  suche  persuasions  he  drewe 
+ISO 
+
+
+ProdicoSj 
+Regents,  or 
+protectours  of 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+on  this  woman  to  her  full  time  of  deliverie.  But  so  soone  LYCURGU 
+as  he  perceyved  she  was  neere  her  time,  he  sent  certaine  to 
+keepe  her,  and  to  be  present  at  her  laboure,  commaunding 
+them  that  if  she  were  brought  a  bed  of  a  daughter,  they 
+should  leave  her  with  the  woman :  and  if  it  were  a  sonne, 
+they  should  forthwith  bring  it  to  him,  in  what  place  so- 
+ever he  was,  and  what  busines  soever  he  had  in  hand.  It 
+chaunced  that  she  came  even  about  supper  time,  and  was 
+''delivered  of  a  sonne.  As  he  was  sitting  at  the  table  with 
+the  other  magistrates  of  the  cittie,  his  servants  entred  the 
+halle,  and  presented  to  him  the  litle  babe,  which  he  tenderly 
+tooke  in  his  armes,  and  sayed  openly  to  them  that  were 
+present :  Beholde  my  lordes  of  Sparta,  here  is  a  Kinge  borne 
+unto  us.  And  speaking  these  wordes,  he  layed  him  do\\'ne 
+in  the  Kinges  place,  and  named  him  Charilaus,  as  muche  to  Charilaus, 
+saye,  as  the  joye  of  the  people.  Thus  he  sawe  all  the  lookers  king  of  the 
+on  rejoycing  muche,  and  might  heare  them  prayse  and  extoll  Lacedaemo- 
+his  synceritie,  justice,  and  vertue.  By  this  meanes  he  raigned  jj^j  j'  di^^j. 
+only  as  King,  but  eight  moneths.  From  thenceforth  he  was  siiis  Halic. 
+taken  and  esteemed  so  just  and  syncere  a  man  among  the  lib.  2. 
+cittizens,  that  there  were  moe  that  willingly  obeyed  him  for 
+his  vertue,  then  for  that  he  was  the  Kings  regent,  or  that 
+he  had  the  government  of  the  whole  Realme  in  his  hands. 
+Notwithstanding  there  were  some  that  bare  him  displeasure 
+and  malice,  who  sought  to  hinder  and  disgrace  his  credit, 
+and  chiefly  the  friends  and  kinred  of  the  Kings  mother : 
+whose  power  and  honour  were  thought  much  impayred  by 
+Lycurgus  authoritie.  In  so  much,  as  a  brother  of  hers 
+called  Leonidas,  entring  boldly  into  great  words  with  him 
+on  a  daye,  dyd  not  sticke  to  say  to  his  face,  I  knowe  for  a 
+certaintie  one  of  these  dayes  thou  wilt  be  King  :  meaning 
+thereby  to  bring  him  in  suspition  with  the  cittizens.  Which 
+thing  though  Lycurgus  never  ment,  yet  of  a  subtill  and 
+craftie  wit  Leonidas  thought  by  geving  out  such  words, 
+that  if  the  young  King  happened  to  dye  in  his  minoritie 
+naturally,  it  would  be  mistrusted  that  Lycurgus  had  secretly 
+made  him  awaye.  The  Kings  mother  also  gave  out  such 
+like  speaches,  which  in  the  end  dyd  so  trouble  him,  with  the 
+feare  he  had,  what  event  might  fall  out  thereof:  that  he 
+Q  121 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+LYCURGUS 
+
+Lycurgus 
+travelled 
+countryes. 
+
+
+Thales  a  poet 
+harper. 
+
+
+Lycurgusjor- 
+ney  into  Asia. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+determined  to  departe  his  countrie,  and  by  his  absence  to 
+avoyde  the  suspition  that  therein  might  growe  upon  him 
+any  waye.  So  he  travelled  abroade  in  the  worlde  as  a 
+straunger,  untill  his  nephew  had  begotten  a  sonne  who  was 
+to  succeede  him  in  his  kingdome.  He  having  with  this 
+determination  taken  his  jorney,  went  first  of  all  into  Creta, 
+where  he  diligently  observed  and  considered  the  manner  of 
+their  living,  the  order  of  the  government  of  their  Common 
+weale,  and  ever  kept  company  with  the  best,  and  ever  was 
+conferring  with  the  most  learned.  There  he  founde  very 
+good  lawes  in  his  judgement,  which  he  noted  of  purpose  to 
+carie  home  to  his  countrie,  to  serve  when  time  should  come. 
+He  founde  there  other  lawes  also,  but  of  them  he  made  no 
+reckoning.  Nowe  there  was  one  man  that  above  the  rest 
+was  reputed  wise  and  skilfull  in  matters  of  state  and  govern- 
+ment, who  was  called  Thales :  with  whom  Lycurgus  dyd  so 
+much  by  intreatie,  and  for  familier  friendshippe,  that  he 
+persuaded  him  to  goe  with  him  unto  Sparta.  This  Thales 
+was  called  the  Poet  Harper,  whereupon  he  had  that  title 
+and  name :  but  in  effect  he  sange  all  that  the  best  and 
+sufficientest  governours  of  the  worlde  could  devise.  For  all 
+his  songes  were  goodly  ditties,  wherein  he  dyd  exhorte  and 
+persuade  the  people  to  live  under  obedience  of  the  law,  in 
+peace  and  concorde  one  with  the  other.  His  words  were  set 
+out  with  such  tunes,  countenance,  and  accents,  that  were  so 
+full  of  swetenes,  harmony,  and  pearsing :  that  inwardly  it 
+melted  mens  heartes,  and  drue  the  hearers  of  a  love  to  like 
+the  most  honest  things,  and  to  leave  all  hatred,  enmitie, 
+sedition,  and  division,  which  at  that  time  reigned  sore 
+among  them.  So  as  it  may  be  sayed,  he  it  was  that  pre- 
+pared the  waye  for  Lycurgus,  whereby  he  afterwards  re- 
+formed and  brought  the  Lacedaemonians  unto  reason.  At 
+his  departing  out  of  Creta,  he  went  into  Asia,  with  intent 
+(as  it  is  sayed)  to  compare  the  manner  of  life  and  pollicie  of 
+those  of  Creta  (being  then  very  straight  and  severe)  with  the 
+superfluities  and  vanities  of  Ionia :  and  thereupon  to  con- 
+sider the  difference  betwene  their  two  manners  and  govern- 
+ments, as  the  physitian  doth,  who  to  knowe  the  hole  and 
+healthfull  the  better,  doth  use  to  compare  them  with  the 
+122 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+sicke  and  diseased.     It  is  very  likely  it  was  there,  where  he   LYCURGUS 
+first  sawe  Homers  works,  in   the   hands  of  the   heires  and 
+successours  of  Cleophylus :  and  finding  in  the  same,  aswell 
+many  rules  of  pollicie,  as  the  great  pleasure  of  Poets  faining, 
+he  diligently  coppied  it  out,  and  made  a  volume  thereof  to 
+carie  into  Grece.     It  is  true  there  was  much  fame  abroad  of  The  prayse 
+Homers  poesies   among   the  Grecians,  howbeit  there  were  of  Homers 
+fewe  of  them  brought  together,  but  were   scattered    here  ^''^^^^• 
+and  there  in  divers  mens  hands,  in  pampflets  and  peces 
+unsowed  and  without  any  order  :  but  the  first  that  brought  Homers 
+them    most   to   light   among   men,    was   Lycurgus.       The  poemes  uu- 
+^Egyptians  save,  that  he  was  in  their  countrie  also,  and  f^owen  to 
+4.U  i   '       •         /        J      iU  a.  ui  J-  the Lrrecians, 
+
+that  Having  lounde  there  one  notable  ordniaunce  among  brought  to 
+
+other,  that  their  souldiers  and  men  of  warre  were  separated  light  by 
+from  the  rest  of  the  people,  he  brought  the  practise  of  it  Lycurgus. 
+into  Sparta :  where  setting  the  marchants,  artificers,  and 
+labourers  every  one  a  parte  by  them  selves,  he  did  establish 
+a  noble  Common  wealth.  So  the  ^Egyptian  historiographers, 
+and  some  others  also  of  Grece  doe  write.  He  was  also  in 
+Africke,  and  in  Spayne,  and  as  farre  as  India,  to  conferre 
+with  the  wise  men  there,  that  were  called  the  philosophers 
+of  India.  I  knowe  no  man  that  hathe  written  it,  saving 
+Aristocrates,  that  was  Hipparchus  sonne.  The  Lacedae- 
+monians wished  for  him  often  when  he  was  gone,  and  sent 
+divers  and  many  a  time  to  call  him  home :  who  thought  their 
+Kings  had  but  the  honour  and  title  of  Kings,  and  not  the 
+vertue  or  majestic  of  a  prince,  whereby  they  dyd  excell  the 
+common  people.  But  as  for  Lycurgus,  they  thought  of  him  ~~- 
+thus  :  that  he  was  a  man  borne  to  rule,  to  commaund,  and  to 
+geve  order,  as  having  in  him  a  certaine  naturall  grace  and  ' 
+
+power,  to  drawe  men  willingly  to  obeye  him.     Moreover  the 
+Kings  them  selves  Avere  not  unwilling  to  have  him  to  retume  — 
+home,  bicause  they  hoped  that  his  presence  would  somwhat 
+brydle,  and  restrayne  the  people  from  their  insolencie  and 
+disobedience  towards  them.    Whereupon  Lycurgus  returning  Lycur^is  re- 
+home  in  this  opinion  and  affection  of  men,  it  fell  out  that  he  tumeth  and 
+was  no  sooner  arrived,  but  he  beganne  to  devise  howe  to  alter  chaungeth  a 
+the  whole  government  of  the  common  weale,  and  throughout  wealth 
+to  chaunge  the  whole  course  and  order  of  the  state :  thinck- 
+
+123 
+
+
+LYCURGUS 
+
+
+Lycurgus 
+counselleth 
+with  the 
+oracle  of 
+Apollo  at 
+Delphes. 
+
+
+Chalceoecos, 
+lunos  brasen 
+temple. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+ing  that  to  make  only  certaine  particular  lawes  were  to 
+no  purpose,  but  much  like,  as  one  should  geve  some  easie 
+medicine,  to  purge  an  overthrowen  bodye  with  all  humours 
+and  disseases.  Therefore  he  thought  first  that  all  grosse  and 
+superfluous  humours,  were  meete  to  be  dissolved  and  purged, 
+and  then  afterwardes  to  geve  them  a  new  forme  and  order  of 
+government.  When  he  had  thus  determined  with  him  self, 
+before  he  would  take  in  hand  to  doe  any  thing,  he  went  to 
+the  citty  of  Delphes  :  where  after  he  had  sacrificed  to  Apollo, 
+he  consulted  with  him  about  his  matters.  From  whom  he 
+returned  with  this  glorious  title  by  the  oracle  of  Pythia :  O 
+beloved  of  the  goddes,  and  rather  god  then  man.  Where 
+when  he  craved  grace  of  Apollo  to  establishe  good  lawes  in 
+his  countrie,  it  was  aunswered  him :  that  Apollo  graunted 
+his  petition,  and  that  he  should  ordaine  the  best  and  per- 
+fectest  manner  of  a  Common  wealth,  that  ever  had  or  should 
+be  in  the  worlde.  This  aunswer  dyd  comforte  him  very 
+much,  and  so  he  beganne  to  breake  his  purpose  to  certen  of 
+the  chief  of  the  cittie,  and  secretly  to  praye  and  exhorte 
+them  to  helpe  him,  going  first  to  those  he  knew  to  be  his 
+friends,  and  after  by  Title  and  litle  he  wanne  others  to  him, 
+who  joyned  with  him  in  his  enterprise.  So  when  he  saw  the 
+time  fit  for  the  matter,  he  caused  thirtie  of  the  chiefest  men 
+of  the  cittie  in  a  morning  to  come  into  the  market  place 
+well  appointed  and  furnished,  to  suppresse  those  that  would 
+attempt  to  hinder  their  purpose.  Hermippus  the  historio- 
+grapher rehearseth  twentie  of  the  chiefest :  but  he  that 
+above  all  others  dyd  most  assist  him  in  his  doings,  and  was 
+the  greatest  ayde  unto  the  stablishing  of  his  laM^es,  was  called 
+« Arithmiadas.  The  king  Charilaus  hearing  of  this  assembly, 
+dyd  feare  there  had  bene  some  conspiracie  or  insurrection 
+against  his  person,  and  for  his  safety  he  fled  into  the  temple 
+of  luno,  called  Chalceoecos,  as  much  to  saye,  as  lunos 
+brasen  temple.  Howbeit  afterwards  when  he  knew  the 
+trothe,  he  waxed  bolde,  and  came  out  of  the  temple  againe, 
+and  he  him  self  favored  the  enterprise,  being  a  prince  of  a 
+noble  minde,  howbeit  very  soft  by  nature,  as  witnesseth 
+Archelaus  (that  was  then  the  other  king  of  Lacedaemon)  by 
+telling  how  Charilaus  aunswered  one  that  praised  him  to  his 
+124 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+face,  in  saying  he  was  a  good  man.     And  how  should  I  not   LYCURGU 
+(quoth  he)  be  good,  when  I  cannot  be  evill  to  the  evill  ? 
+
+In  this  chaunge  of  the  state,  many  things  were  altered  by  ^ ■ 
+
+Lycurgus,  but  his  chiefest  alteration  was,  his  lawe  of  the  Lycurgus  in 
+erection  of  a  Senate,  which  he  made  to  have  a  regall  powet  stituteth  a 
+and  equall  authoritie  with  the  Kings  in  matters  of  weigh\  ^^g^^^^^f.^ 
+and  importance,  and  was  (as  Plato  sayeth)  to  be  the  health-  ^ja^g 
+full  counterpease  of  the  whole  bodye  of  the  Common  weale.  piafg-j;^^^ 
+The  other  state  before  was  ever  wavering,  somtime  inclining 
+to  tyrannic,  when  the  Kings  were  to  mightie :  and  somtime 
+to   confusion,   when   the   people   would   usurpe   authoritie. 
+Lycurgus  therfore  placed  betwene  the  Kings  and  the  people, 
+a  counsaill  of  Senatours,  which  was  as  a  stronge  beame,  that 
+helde  bothe  these  extreames  in  an  even  ballance,  and  gave 
+sure  footing  and  ground  to  either  parte,  to  make  strong  the 
+state  of  the  comon  weale.     For  the  eight  and  twenty  Sena- 
+tours  (which  made  the  whole  bodye  of  the  Senate)  tooke 
+somtime  the  Kings  parte,  when  it  was  nedefull  to  pull  downe 
+the  furie  of  the  people :  and  contrarilie,  they  held  sometimes 
+with  the  people  against  the  Kings,  to  bridle  their  tyrannicall 
+government.     Aristotle  sayeth,  he  ordeined  the  number  of 
+Senatours  to  be  but  eight  and  twenty,  bicause  tAvo  of  thirtie  23  were  the 
+that  joyned  with  him  as  a  fore,  dyd  for  feare  forsake  him  at  number  oft 
+his  enterprise.     Howbeit  Sphserus  writeth,  that  from   the  Senatours. 
+beginning,  he  never  purposed  to  have  more  then  eight  and 
+twenty  to  be  the  Senate.     And   perhappes  he  had  great 
+regard  to  make  it  a  perfect  number,  considering  it  is  com- 
+pounded of  the  number  of  seven,  multiphed  by  foure :  and 
+is  the  first  perfect  number  next  to  sixe,  being  equall  to  all 
+partes  gathered  together.     But  as  for  me,  my  opinion  is,  he 
+chose  this  number  rather  then  any  other,  bicause  he  ment 
+the   whole   bodye    of  the  counsaill   should    be  but  thirtie 
+persones,  adding  to  that  number,  the  two  Kinges.    Lycurgus 
+tooke  so  great  care  to  establishe  well  this  counsell,  that  he 
+brought  an  oracle  for  it,  from  Apolloes  temple  in  Delphes. 
+This  oracle  is  called  unto  this  daye  Retra,  as  who  would  Retra  of 
+saye,  the  statute  oracle :  whereof  the  aunswer  was.     When  Lycur^s. 
+thou  hast  built  a  temple  unto  lupiter  the  Syllanian,  and  to 
+Minerva  the  Syllanian,  and  devided  the  people  into  lineages, 
+
+125 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+LYCURGUS  thou  shalt  stablishe  a  Senate  of  thirtie  counsellers,  with  the 
+two  Kings :  and  shalt  assemble  the  people  at  times  con- 
+venient, in  the  place  betweene  the  bridge  and  the  river 
+Cnacion  fl.  Cnacion.  There  the  Senatours  shall  propound  all  matters, 
+and  breake  up  after  their  assemblies :  and  it  shall  not  be 
+lawfull  for  the  people  to  speake  one  worde.  In  those  dayes 
+The  open  the  people  were  ever  assembled  betweene  two  rivers,  for 
+fields  appoint-  there  was  no  hall  to  assemble  a  counsaill  at  large,  nor  any 
+Counsaill  other  place  prepared  for  them.  For  Lycurgus  thought  no 
+buylded  place  meete  for  men  to  geve  good  counsaill  in,  or 
+to  determine  causes,  but  rather  a  hinderance :  bicause  in 
+such  places  men  be  drawen  to  muse  on  vaine  things,  and 
+their  mindes  be  caried  awaye  wdth  beholding  the  images, 
+tables,  and  pictures,  comonly  set  up  for  ornament  in  such 
+open  places.  And  if  it  be  in  a  Theater,  then  beholding  the 
+place  where  the  playes  and  sportes  be  made,  they  thincke 
+more  of  them,  then  any  counsaill.  Againe,  if  it  be  in  a 
+great  hall,  then  of  the  fayer  embowed  or  vawted  roofes,  or 
+of  the  fretised  seelings  curiously  wrought,  and  sumptuously 
+set  forth,  and  tend  not  still  their  busines  they  come  for. 
+When  the  people  were  assembled  in  counsaill,  it  was  not 
+lawfull  for  any  of  them  to  put  forth  matters  to  the  counsell 
+to  be  determined,  neither  might  any  of  them  deliver  his 
+opinion  what  he  thought  of  any  thinge  :  but  the  people  had 
+onely  authoritie  to  geve  their  assent  (if  they  thought  good) 
+to  the  things  propounded  by  the  Senatours,  •  or  the  two 
+Kings.  Howbeit  afterwardes,  the  two  Kings  Polydorus  and 
+Theopompus,  bicause  the  people  dyd  many  times  crosse  and 
+alter  the  determination  of  the  Senate,  by  taking  away  or 
+adding  some  thing  to  it,  they  dyd  adde  these  wordes  to  the 
+oracle  aforesaid.  That  if  the  people  would  not  assent  to 
+any  ordinaunce  of  the  Senate,  then  should  it  be  lawfull  for 
+the  Kings  and  Senate  to  breake  up  the  counsell,  and  to 
+frustrate  all  things  done  in  the  same  :  the  wise  advise  of  the 
+Senate  being  encountered  thus,  and  their  meaning  to  the 
+best,  so  perverted  to  the  worse.  These  two  Kings  persuaded 
+the  people,  that  at  the  very  first,  this  addition  came  with 
+the  oracle  of  Apollo  :  as  the  poet  Tyrtaeus  maketh  mention 
+in  the  place,  where  he  saveth  : 
+126 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+From  Delphos  He,  this  oracle  is  brought  LYCURGl 
+
+of  Pythia  :  into  their  country  soyle. 
+The  Kings  (even  they  to  whom  of  right  there  ought 
+
+a  loving  care  in  princely  breasts  to  boyle, 
+
+the  Spartane  vi^ealthe,  to  garde  from  every  spoyle  :) 
+Shalbe  the  chief,  grave  causes  to  decyde 
+
+with  Senatours  :  whose  sounde  advise  is  tride. 
+And  next  to  them,  the  people  shall  fulfill 
+
+asmuche  as  seemes,  to  please  their  princes  will. 
+
+Lycurgus  now  having  thus  tempered  the  forme  of  his 
+comon  weale,  it  seemed  notwithstanding  to  those  that  came 
+after  him,  that  this  small  number  of  thirtie  persones  that 
+made  the  Senate,  was  yet  to  mightie,  and  of  to  great  autho- 
+ritie.  Wherefore  to  bridle  them  in  a  litle,  they  gave  them 
+(as  Plato  sayeth)  a  bytte  in  their  mouths,  and  that  was  the 
+authoritie  of  the  Ephores,  which  signifie  as  much  as  comp-  The  institu 
+trollers :  and  were  erected  about  a  hundred  and  thirtie  yeres  tion  of  tlie 
+after  the  death  of  Lycurgus.  The  first  which  was  chosen  of  Ephores. 
+these,  was  Elatus,  and  it  was  in  the  time  of  king  Theo- 
+pompus,  whose  wife  on  a  daye  in  her  anger  sayed :  howe 
+throughe  his  negligence  he  would  leave  lesse  to  his  suc- 
+cessours,  then  he  had  receyved  of  his  predecessours.  To 
+whom  he  aunswered  againe,  Not  lesse  but  more,  for  that 
+it  shall  continue  lenger,  and  with  a  more  suertie.  For,  in 
+losing  thus  their  too  absolute  power,  that  wrought  them 
+great  envie  and  hatred  among  their  cittizens,  they  dyd  escape 
+the  daunger  and  mischief  that  their  neighbours  the  Argives, 
+and  Messenians  dyd  feele :  who  would  not  geve  over  the 
+soveraine  authoritie  which  they  had  gotten  once.  This 
+example  maketh  Lycurgus  great  wisdome  and  foresight  Lycurgus 
+manifestly  knowen  :  who  so  will  deeply  consider  the  seditions  wisdome. 
+and  ill  governements  of  the  Argives,  and  Messenians  (their 
+neere  neiglibours  and  kinsemen)  aswell  from  the  people,  as 
+from  the  Kings.  Who  from  the  beginning  had  all  things 
+alike  to  the  Spartans  :  and  in  deviding  of  their  lands  a  farre 
+better  order  then  theirs.  This  notwithstanding,  they  dyd 
+not  prosper  longe :  but  through  the  pryde  of  their  Kings, 
+and  the  disobedience  of  their  people,  they  entred  into  civill 
+warres  one  against  another,  shewing  by  their  disorders 
+and  misfortunes  the  speciall  grace  the  godds  dyd  beare  to 
+
+127 
+
+
+LYCURGUS 
+
+
+Lycurgus 
+maketh  equall 
+division  of 
+laTndes  unto 
+the  cittizens. 
+
+
+All  the  lands 
+throughe  the 
+countrie  of 
+Laconia,  de- 
+rided into 
+30000  parts. 
+
+All  tlie  lands 
+about  Sparta 
+into  9000 
+partes. 
+
+
+What  barley 
+every  parte 
+did  yelde. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+Sparta,  to  geve  them  such  a  reformer,  as  dyd  so  wisely 
+temper  the  state  of  their  common  weale,  as  we  will  shewe 
+hereafter.  The  second  lawe  that  Lycurgus  made,  and  the 
+boldest  and  hardest  he  ever  tooke  in  hande,  was  the  making 
+of  a  newe  division  of  their  lands.  For  he  sawe  so  great  a 
+disorder  and  unequality  among  the  inhabitants,  aswell  of 
+the  countrie,  as  of  the  citie  Lacedaemon,  by  reason  some 
+(and  the  greatest  number  of  them)  were  so  poore,  that  they 
+had  not  a  handfull  of  grounde,  and  other  some  being  least 
+in  number  were  very  riche,  that  had  all :  he  thought  with 
+him  self  to  banishe  out  of  the  cittie  all  insolencie,  envie, 
+covetousnes,  and  deliciousnes,  and  also  all  riches  and  povertie, 
+which  he  tooke  the  greatest,  and  the  most  continuall  plagues 
+of  a  cittie,  or  common  weale.  For  this  purpose,  he  imagined 
+there  was  none  so  ready  and  necessarie  a  meane,  as  to  per- 
+suade his  cittizens  to  suffer  all  the  landes,  possessions,  and 
+inheritance  of  their  countrie,  to  ronne  ii\jcommon  together : 
+and  that  they  should  make  a  newe  division  equally  in  parti- 
+tion amongest  them  selves,  to  live  from  thenceforth  as  it 
+were  like  brothers  together,  so  that  no  one  were  richer  then 
+another,  and  none  should  seeke  to  go  before  cache  other,  any 
+other  waye  then  in  vertue  only :  thincking  there  should  be 
+no  difference  or  unequalitie  among  inhabitants  of  one  cittie, 
+but  the  reproaches  of  dishonestie,  and  the  prayses  of  vertue. 
+Thus  Lycurgus  following  his  determination,  dyd  out  of 
+hande  make  a  lawe  of  the  division  of  their  lands.  For  first 
+he  dyd  devide  all  the  countrie  of  Laconia,  into  thirtie  thou- 
+sand equall  partes,  the  which  he  dyd  set  out  for  those  that 
+inhabited  about  Sparta :  and  of  those  landes  that  joyned 
+next  to  the  cittie  of  Sparta,  that  was  the  chief  metropolitan 
+cittie  of  Laconia,  he  made  other  nine  thousand  partes,  which 
+he  devided  to  the  naturall  cittizens  of  Sparta,  who  be  those 
+that  are  properly  called  Spartans.  Howbeit  some  will  saye, 
+he  made  but  sixe  thousand  parts,  and  that  king  Polydorus 
+afterwards  dyd  adde  to  other  three  thousand  partes.  Other 
+saye  also,  that  Lycurgus  of  these  nine  thousand  partes  made 
+but  the  halfe  onely,  and  Polydorus  the  rest.  Every  one  of 
+these  partes  was  such,  as  might  yelde  unto  the  owner  yerely, 
+three  score  and  tenne  bushels  of  barley  for  a  man,  and  twelve 
+128 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+bushels  for  the  woman,  and  of  wine  and  other  liquide  fruites,  LYCURGUS 
+much  like  in  proportion:  which  quantitie  Lycurgus  j  udged 
+to  be  sufficient,  to  kepe  the  bodye  of  a  man  in  health,  and 
+to  make  him  stronge  and  lustie,  without  any  further  allow- 
+ance.    They  save  after  this,  as  be  returned  home  one  day 
+out  of  the  fields,  and  came  over  the  lands  where  wheate 
+had  bene  reaped  not  longe  before,  and  sawe  the  number  of 
+sheaves  lying  in  every  shocke  together,  and  no  one  shocke 
+bigger  then  another :  he  fell  a  laughing,  and  told  them  that 
+were  with  him,  Me  thinks  all  Laconia  is  as  it  were  an  in- 
+heritance of  many  brethern,  who  had  newly  made  partition 
+together.     He  gave  an  attempt  to  have  devided  also  move- 
+ables, and  to  have  made  a  common  partition  betwene  them, 
+to  thend  he  would  have  utterly  taken  away  all  unequalitie. 
+But  finding  the  cittizens  tooke  it  very  impatiently,  that 
+openly  that  which   they  had,  should  be  taken  awaye :   he 
+went  about  to  doe  it  more  secretly,  and  in  a  conninger  wise 
+to  take  away  that  covetousnes.     For  first  of  all,  he  dyd 
+forbid  all  co\^le  of  golde  and  sylver  to  be  currant :  and  then  Lycurgus 
+"Tie  dyd  set  out  certaine  coynes  of  iron  which  he  commaunded  chauugeth  all 
+only  to  be  currant,  whereof  a  great  weight  and  quantitie  S'.j    ®  ?"" 
+was  but  litle  worthe.     So  as  to  laye  up  therof  the  value  of  iron  covne 
+tenne  Minas,  it  would  have   occupied  a  whole  celler  in  a 
+house,  besides  it  would  have  neded  a  yoke  of  oxen  to  carie 
+it  any  where.     Nowe  golde  and  silver  being  thus  banished 
+out  of  the  countrie,  many  lewde  partes  and  faultes  must 
+needes  cease  thereby.     For  who  would  robbe,  steale,  picke, 
+take  awaye,  hyde,  procure,  or  whorde  up  any  thing,  that  he 
+had  no  great  occasion  to  desire,  nor  any  profit  to  possesse, 
+nor  would  be  any  pleasure  to  use  or  employe.     For,  the  iron 
+they  occupied  for  their  coyne,  they  cast  vineger  upon  it 
+while  it  was  redde  hotte  out  of  the  fire,  to  kill  the  strength 
+
+and  working  of  it  to  any  other  use :  for  thereby  it  was  so     ^ ^ 
+
+eger  and  brickie,  that  it  would  byde  no  hammer,  nor  could 
+be  made,  beaten,  or  forged  to  any  other  facion.     By  thig  Lycurgus 
+meanes  he  banished  also,  all  superfluous  and   unprofitable  made  all 
+sciences,  which  he  knew  he  should  not  neede  to  doe  by  any  sciences  and 
+proclamation  :  bicause  they  would  fall  awaye  (or  the  most  value 
+parte  of  them)  even  of  them  selves,  when  the  basenes  of  the 
+R  129 
+
+
+liTgtutA^ 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+LYCURGUS  money  they  should  take  for  their  worke,  should  undoe  them. 
+For  their  iron  moneys  were  not  currant  els  where  in  the 
+citties  of  Grece,  but  every  bodye  made  a  jeste  of  it  there. 
+By  this  occasion,  the  Lacedaemonians  could  buye  no  forrein 
+wares  nor  marchandises,  neither  came  there  any  shippe  into 
+their  haven  to  trafficke  with  them,  neither  any  fine  curious 
+Rethorician  dyd  repaire  into  their  countrie  to  teache  them 
+eloquence,  and  the  cunning  cast  of  lying :  nor  yet  came 
+there  to  them  any  wysard  to  tell  them  their  fortune,  nor  any 
+Pander  to  keepe  any  brothell  house,  nor  yet  goldsmithe  or 
+jueller,  to  make  or  sell  any  toyes  or  trifles  of  golde  or  silver 
+to  set  forth  women  :  considering  all  these  things  are  used  to 
+be  made  to  get  money,  and  to  hourd  up  that  they  had  not. 
+After  this  sorte,  delicatenes  that  wanted  many  things  that 
+entertained  it,  beganne  by  litle  and  litle  to  vanishe  awaye,  and 
+lastely,  to  fall  of  from  them  selves  :  when  the  most  riche  men 
+had  no  more  occasion  then  the  poorest,  and  riches  having 
+no  meane  to  shewe  her  selfe  openly  in  the  worlde,  was  fayne 
+to  remaine  shut  at  home  idely,  as  not  able  to  doe  her  master 
+any  service.  Thereupon  moveables  and  householde  stuffe 
+(which  a  man  cannot  be  without,  and  must  be  daylie  occu- 
+pied) as  bedsteades,  tables,  chayers,  and  suche  like  necessaries 
+for  house,  were  excellently  well  made  :  and  men  dyd  greatly 
+prayse  the  facion  of  the  Laconian  cuppe  which  they  called 
+Cothon  a  Cothon,  and  specially  for  a  souldier  in  the  warres,  as  Critias 
+
+straunp^ekinde  ^y^s  wont  to  saye.  For  it  was  made  after  such  a  facion,  that 
+the  culler  of  it  dyd  let  the  eye  to  discerne  the  fowle  and 
+unwholsome  water,  which  men  are  driven  oftetimes  to  drinke 
+in  a  campe,  and  goeth  many  times  against  ones  stomake  to 
+see  it :  and  if  by  chaunce  there  was  any  filth  or  mudde  in 
+the  bottome,  it  would  cleave  and  sticke  fast  upon  the  ribbes 
+of  the  bellie,  and  nothing  came  through  the  necke,  but 
+cleane  water  to  his  mouth  that  drancke  it.  The  reformer  of 
+their  state  was  the  cause  of  all  this :  bicause  their  artificers 
+tending  now  no  superfluous  works,  were  occupied  about  the 
+making  of  their  most  necessary  things.  Further,  nowe  to 
+drive  awaye  all  superfluitie  and  deliciousnes,  and  to  roote 
+out  utterly  desire  to  get  and  gather :  heTflade  another  thirde 
+lawe  for  eating  and  drincking,  and  against  feastes  and 
+130 
+
+
+of  cuppe  of 
+the  Lacedae- 
+monian soul 
+diers. 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+banckcts.  First  he  willed  and  commaunded  the  cittizens,  LYCURGITS 
+that  they  should  eate  together  all  of  one  meate,  and  chiefly  Lycurgus 
+of  those  he  had  permitted  by  his  ordinance.  Then  he  dyd  appointeth 
+expressely  forbid  them  to  eate  alone,  or  a  parte,  or  secretly  ^''der  for  dyel 
+by  them  selves,  upon  riche  tables  and  sumptuous  beddes,  dsmonians*'^ 
+abusing  the  labour  of  excellent  worcke  men,  and  the  devises 
+of  likerous  cookes  to  cramme  them  selves  in  corners,  as  they  "^"-~ — ■ 
+doe  fatte  up  beastes  and  poultrie,  which  doth  not  only  breede 
+ill  conditions  in  the  minde,  but  dothe  marre  the  complexions 
+of  men,  and  the  good  states  of  their  bodie,  when  they  give 
+them  selves  over  to  such  sensualitie  and  gluttonie.  Whereof 
+it  foUoweth  in  the  ende  that  men  must  needes  sleepe  muche, 
+to  helpe  to  digest  the  excesse  of  meates  they  have  taken, 
+and  then  must  they  goe  to  the  whotte  houses  to  bathe  them 
+selves,  and  spend  long  time  about  the  ordinarie  attendance 
+of  their  sickely  bodyes.  This  was  a  marveilous  thing  for 
+him  to  bring  to  passe,  but  much  more,  to  make  riches  not 
+to  be  stolen,  and  least  of  all  to  be  coveted,  as  Theophrastus 
+sayd  of  him  :  which  by  this  meanes  of  making  them  eate  to- 
+gether with  all  sobriety  at  their  ordinarie  dyet,  was  brought 
+to  passe.  For  there  was  no  more  meane  to  the  riche,  then 
+to  the  poore,  to  use  to  playe,  or  shewe  riches,  sithe  both  of 
+them  were  forced  to  be  together  in  one  place,  and  to  eate 
+all  of  one  meate :  so  as  that  which  is  commonly  spoken,  that 
+Pluto  the  god  of  riches  is  blinde,  was  truely  verified  only  in 
+the  cittie  of  Sparta,  above  all  other  places  of  the  worldc.  For 
+there  riches  was  layed  on  the  grounde  like  a  corse  without  a 
+soule,  that  moveth  no  whit  at  all :  considering  it  was  not 
+lawfull  for  any  man  to  eate  at  home  secretly  in  his  house, 
+before  he  came  to  their  open  halles,  nor  might  not  come 
+thither  for  a  countenance  only  to  his  meales,  being  already 
+fedde  and  full  fraight.  For  every  mans  eye  was  upon 
+those  specially  which  did  not  eate  and  drincke  with  a  good 
+stomake  amongest  them :  and  it  was  the  use  to  reproche 
+them  as  gluttons,  and  dayntie  mouthed  men,  which  refused 
+to  eate  as  it  were  in  common  together.  So  as  this  was  the 
+ordinance  they  saye,  that  grieved  most  the  riche  above  all 
+that  Lycurgus  made,  and  whereat  they  were  most  madde  and 
+angrie  with  him  :  in  so  muche,  as  on  a  daye,  they  all  setting 
+
+131 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+LYCURGUS  upon  him  to  alter  it,  he  was  compelled  to  ronne  out  of  the 
+market  place,  and  getting  grounde  of  them,  he  recovered 
+the  liberties  of  a  churche,  before  any  could  overtake  him : 
+saving  one  young  man  called  Alcander,  who  otherwise 
+had  no  ill  nature  in  him,  but  that  he  was  somewhat 
+quicke  of  his  hande,  and  cholericke  with  all.  Who  fol- 
+lowing Lycurgus  nerer  then  any  other,  dyd  geve  him  a 
+Alcander  blowe  overthwart  the  face  with  a  staffe,  and  strake  out 
+strooke  out  one  of  his  eyes,  as  Lycurgus  turned  toward  him.  Yet  for 
+Lycurgus  eye.  ^H  this,  Lycurgus  never  bashed  or  made  worde  at  the  matter, 
+but  dyd  lifte  up  his  head  to  those  that  followed  him,  and 
+shewed  them  his  face  all  a  gore  bloude,  and  his  eye  put  out 
+cleane :  whereof  they  were  all  so  sore  ashamed,  that  there 
+was  not  a  man  that  durst  once  open  his  mouth  against  him, 
+but  to  the  contrarie,  they  seemed  to  pittie  him,  and  dyd 
+deliver  Alcander  into  his  handes  that  had  done  the  dede,  to 
+punishe  him  as  him  selfe  pleased.  And  so  they  all  brought 
+him  to  his  house,  and  shewed  they  were  right  hartely  sorie 
+for  his  hurte.  Lycurgus  thancking  them,  returned  them  all 
+backe  againe,  save  that  he  made  Alcander  to  goe  with  him 
+Lycurgus  into  his  house,  where  he  never  hurte  him,  nor  gave  him 
+pacience  and  fowle  worde :  but  commaunded  him  onely  to  waite  upon 
+gentlenes.  }i[xn,  and  made  his  other  ordinarie  servaunts  to  withdraw 
+their  waiting.  This  young  man  who  now  beganne  to  spye 
+his  owne  faulte,  dyd  most  willingly  attend  upon  him,  and 
+never  spake  worde  to  the  contrarie.  When  he  had  served 
+him  a  certaine  time,  being  very  nere  continually  about  him, 
+he  beganne  to  feele  and  taste  of  his  naturall  liberalitie,  and 
+sawe  of  what  affection  and  intention  Lycurgus  was  moved  to 
+doe  all  he  dyd :  he  perceyved  what  was  the  severitie  of  his 
+ordinary  life,  and  what  his  constancy  was  to  endure  labour 
+without  wearines.  Alcander  then  beganne  to  love  and 
+honour  Lycurgus  from  his  harte,  and  tolde  his  parents  and 
+friends,  howe  he  was  no  suche  severe  man  as  he  seemed,  but 
+was  of  so  kynde  and  gentle  a  nature  to  all  men  as  might  be. 
+See  I  praye  you  howe  Alcander  was  transformed  by  Lycurgus, 
+and  his  punishement  also,  which  he  should  have  receyved : 
+for  of  a  fierce,  rashe,  and  a  lewde  conditioned  youth  he  was 
+before,  he  became  nowe  a  very  grave  and  wise  man.  But  for 
+182 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+memoric  of  this  his  misfortune,  Lycurgus  built  a  temple  to  LYCURGUS 
+Minerva,  which  he  surnamed  Optiletide,  bicause  the  Dorians  Minerva 
+which  dwell  in  those  partes  of  Peloponnesus,  doe  call  the  eyes,  optUetide. 
+optiles.      There  are  other  writers  (as  Dioscorides  for  one) 
+which  saye  Lycurgus  had  a  blowe  with  a  staife,  but  he  had 
+not  his  eye  striken  out  with  it :    and  how  contrariwise,  he 
+founded  this  temple  to  Minerva,  to  give  her  thanckes  for 
+healing  of  his  eye.     Hereof  it  came,  that  ever  since  the 
+Spartans  have  bene  restrayned  to  carie  staves  in  any  as- 
+sembly of  counsell.    But  to  returne  to  their  common  repastes, 
+which  the  Cretans  called  Andria,  and  the  Lacedaemonians  p^fj!^.^^^ 
+Phiditia,  either  bicause  they  were  places  wherein  they  learned  n^gaies"„.iiy 
+to  live  soberly  and  straightly  (for  in  the  Greke  tongue  Phido,  g^  called.  " 
+is  to  save  and  spare)  or  els  bicause  their  amitie  and  friend- 
+shippe  grewe  there  towards  one  another,  as  if  they  would 
+have  called  them  Philitia,  '  feasts  of  love,'  by  chaunging  d 
+into  L :  It  maye  be  also  they  added  the  first  letter  as  super- 
+fluous, and  meant  to  call  the  places  Editia,  bicause  they  dyd 
+eate  and  drincke  there.     They  sat  in  their  halles  by  fifteene 
+in  a  companie,  litle  more  or  lesse,  and  at  the  beginning  of 
+every  moneth  every  one  brought  a  bushell  of  meale,  eight 
+gallons  of  wine,  five  pound  of  cheese,  and  two  pound  and  a 
+halfe  of  figges  for  a  man,  besides  some  litle  portion  of  their 
+monye  to  buye  certaine  freshe  acates.     And  over  and  above 
+all  this,  every  man  when  he  dyd  sacrifice  in  his  house,  was 
+bounde  to  send  the  best  and  chief  est  things  of  his  sacrifice  to 
+the  halles  to  be  eaten.     Likewise  if  any  man  went  an  hunt- 
+ing, and  killed  any  venison  :  it  was  an  order,  he  should  send 
+a  pece  of  the  fleshe  thither.     Having  these  two  lawfull  causes, 
+they  might  eate  and  drinke  by  them  selves  at  home,  either 
+when  they  sacrificed  any  beast  to  the  goddes,  or  when  they 
+came  late  home  from  hunting :  otherwise  they  were  bounde 
+of  necessitie  to  meete  in  their  halles  at  meales,  if  they  would 
+eate  any  thing.      This  order  they  kept  very  straightly  a 
+great  time :  in  so  muche  as  king  Agis  on  a  daye,  returning 
+from  the  warres,  where  he  had  overthrowen  the  Athenians, 
+and  being  desirous  to  suppe   at  home  privately  with  the 
+Queene  his  wife,1ie  sent  to  the  halles  for  his  portion.     But 
+the  Polemarchi,  that  be  certaine  officers  assisting  the  Kings 
+
+133 
+
+
+LYCURGUS 
+
+
+Children  were 
+brought  to 
+these  meales. 
+
+
+The  propertie 
+of  a  Lacedffi- 
+monian. 
+
+
+The  order  of 
+receiving  any 
+man  into  their 
+company  at 
+meales. 
+
+
+The  blacke 
+broth. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+in  the  warres,  dyd  denye  him.  The  next  daye  Agis  left  of 
+for  spight,  to  doe  the  accustomed  sacrifice  they  were  wont  to 
+celebrate  in  the  ende  of  every  warre :  whereupon  they  set  a 
+fine  on  his  head,  and  condemned  him  to  paye  it.  The  young 
+children  also  went  to  these  repasts,  even  as  they  should  goe 
+to  schooles  to  learne  gravity  and  temperaunce,  where  they 
+heard  wise  and  grave  discourses  touching  the  government  of 
+a  common  weale,  but  not  of  masters  that  were  as  hierlinges. 
+There  they  learned  pretylie  •  to  playe  upon  wordes,  and  plea- 
+sauntly  to  sporte  one  with  another,  without  any  broade 
+speaches,  or  uncomely  Jestes,  and  at  others  handes  to  beare 
+the  same  againe,  without  choller  or  anger.  For  this  pro- 
+pertie have  the  Lacedaemonians  above  all  other,  to  take  and 
+geve  a  mocke  without  any  offence  :  nevertheles,  if  any  mans 
+nature  could  not  beare  it,  he  neded  but  praye  the  partie  to 
+forbeare  his  jesting,  and  so  he  lefte  it  straight.  And  it  was 
+ever  an  ordinarie  among  them,  that  the  eldest  of  the  com- 
+panie  tolde  the  rest  that  were  come  into  the  hall  to  meale, 
+with  shewing  them  of  the  dore :  Sirs,  remember,  there  goeth 
+not  a  worde  here  out  of  this  dore.  Even  so  he  that  would 
+be  receyved  to  meale  there  in  their  companie,  must  first  of 
+necessitie  be  allowed  and  receyved  in  this  sorte,  by  all  the 
+rest.  Every  one  of  them  tooke  a  litle  balle  of  branne  or 
+dowe  to  washe  their  handes  with,  and  without  ever  a  word 
+speaking,  they  threwe  it  into  a  basen,  which  the  servant  that 
+waited  on  them  at  the  table  dyd  carie  upon  his  head :  he 
+that  was  contented  the  other  should  be  receyved  in  com- 
+panie, dyd  cast  in  his  balle  as  he  dyd  receyve  it,  but  if  he 
+misliked  him,  then  he  pressed  it  flat  betwene  his  fingers, 
+and  threwe  it  in.  This  ball  of  branne  thus  pressed  flat  was 
+asmuch  as  a  beane  bored  thorough,  and  was  to  them  a  signe  of 
+condemnation.  If  any  one  balle  were  found  of  this  sorte,  the 
+suter  was  rejected :  for  they  would  not  have  any  enter  into 
+their  companie,  that  was  not  liked  of  all  the  rest.  He  that 
+thus  was  rejected,  they  saye  he  was  discadded  :  for  the  basin 
+wherein  the  litle  balles  were  caried,  was  called  Caddos. 
+The  best  dishe  they  served  at  these  meales,  was  that  they 
+call  their  blacke  brothe :  so  that  when  they  had  that,  the 
+olde  men  dyd  eate  no  fleshe,  but  lefte  it  all  to  the  younge 
+1S4 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+men,  and  they  by  them  selves  dyd  eate  the  brothe.     There   LYCURGUJ 
+
+was  a  king  of  Pontus,  that  being  desirous  to  taste  of  this  Cicero  callet' 
+
+blacke  broth,  dyd  buye  of  purpose  a  Lacedaemonian  cooke  :  this  King, 
+
+but  after  he  had   once  tasted  thereof,  he  was  very  angry  yionysius  th 
+
+straight.     The  cooke  then  sayed  unto  him :  And  it  please  / 
+
+your  grace,  ere  one  shall  finde  this  brothe  good,  he  must  be 
+
+washed  first  in  the  river  Eurotas.     After  they  had  eate  and 
+
+druncke  thus   soberly   together,  every   one   repaired    home 
+
+without  any  light :  for  it  was  not  lawfull  for  them  to  goe 
+
+thither,  nor  any  where  els  with  light,  bicause  they  should 
+
+accustome  them  selves  boldely  to  goe  up  and  downe  the 
+
+darcke,  and  all  about  in  the  night.     This  was  the  order  and 
+
+manner  of  their  meales.     But  here  is  specially  to  be  noted, 
+
+that  Lycurgus  would  in  no  wise  have  any  of  his  lawes  put  in  Lycurgus 
+
+writing.     For  it  is  expressely  set  downe  in  his  lawes  they  call  would  not 
+
+Retra,  that  none  of  his  lawes  should  be  written.     For  he  ,  ^^^       . 
+
+thought  that  which  should  chiefly  make  a  cittie  happie,  and  otherwise 
+
+vertuous,  ought  throughly  by  education  to  be  printed  in  then  in  mens 
+
+mens  heartes  and  manners,  as  to  have  continuaunce  for  ever :  myndes. 
+
+which  he  tooke  to  be  love  and  good  will,  as  a  farre  stronger 
+
+knot  to  tye  men  with,  then  any  other  compulsary  lawe.  Which 
+
+when  men  by  use  and  custome  through  good  education  doe 
+
+take  in  their  childhoode,  it  maketh  every  man  to  be  a  lawe 
+
+to  him  selfe.     Furthermore,  concerning  buying  and  bargan- 
+
+ing  one  with  another,  which  are  but  trifles,  and  sometime 
+
+are  chaunged    in  one  sorte,  and  sometime  in  another,  as 
+
+occasion  serveth  :  he  thought  it  best  not  to  constrayne  them 
+
+to  doe  it  by  writing,  nor  to  establishe  customes  that  might 
+
+not  be  altered,  but  rather  to  leave  them  to  the  libertie  and 
+
+discretion  of  men  which  had  bene  brought  up  in  the  same, 
+
+bothe  to  take  awaye,  and  to  adde  therein,  as  the  case  and 
+
+time   should   require.      But  to   conclude,   he   thought   the 
+
+chiefest  pointe  of  a  good  lawe  maker  or  reformer  of  the 
+
+common  weale  was,  to  cause  men  to  be  well  brought  up  and 
+
+instructed.     One  of  his  ordinaunces  therefore  was  expressely, 
+
+that  not  one  of  his  lawes  should  be  written.     Another  of  his 
+
+devises  was,  against  superfluous  charges  and  expences :  which  Retra,  for  ex 
+
+to  avoyde,  he  made  a  lawe  that  all  roofes  of  houses  should  *^®^^^  *^^  '">'•** 
+
+be  made  only  with  the  axe,  and  all  gates  and  doores  witli 
+
+135        " 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE   NOBLE 
+
+LYCURGUS    the  sawe,  and  that  without  any  other  toole  of  occupation. 
+Wherein  he  had  the  like  imagination  as  afterwards  Epami- 
+Epaminondas  nondas  had,  when  he  sayed,  speaking  of  his  table :  Such  a 
+saying.            borde  never  receyveth  any  treason.    Even  so  thought  Lycur- 
+gus,  that  such  a  buylt  house  would  never  receyve  curiositie 
+;    or  daintines.     For  no  man  is  so  maddely  disposed  or  simple 
+'\   witted,  as  to  bring  into  so  poore  and  meane  houses,  bed- 
+steades  with  silver  feete,  imbrodered  coverlettes,  or  counter- 
+i    poyntes  of  purple  silke,  neither  yet  plate  of  golde  nor  of 
+{     silver,  nor  suche  other  like  costly  furniture  and  finenes,  as 
+)>    those  things  require  to  wayte  upon  them  :  bicause  the  beddes 
+;■    must  be  aunswerable  to  the  meanenes  of  the  house,  the  furni- 
+'     tures  of  the  beddes  must  be  sutelike  to  the  same,  and  all 
+other  householde  stuffe,  dyet,  meate,  and  drinke  agreable  to 
+the  rest.     Hereof  proceeded  that,  which   Leontychidas  the 
+first  King  of  that  name,  sayed  once  :  who  supping  on  a  time 
+in  the  cittie  of  Corinthe,  and  seeing  the  roofe  of  the  hall 
+where  he  satte,  sumptuously  embowed  and  carved,  he  asked 
+straight  if  the  trees  dyd  growe  carved  so  in  that  countrie. 
+The  third  lawe  was,  he  dyd  forbyd  them  to  make  warre 
+often  with  one  enemie,  lest  the  enemie  forced  to  take  often 
+armes   in   hande,    might   in   the  ende  growe  experter  and 
+vallianter  then  they.      For  this  cause  king  Agesilaus  was 
+greatly  blamed,  who  was  a  longe  time  after.     For  by  making 
+often  warres  with   the   countrie  of  Boeotia,  he  made  the 
+Thebans  in  the  ende  as  expert  and  valliant  souldiers,  as  the 
+Lacedaemonians.     Whereupon  Antalcidas  seeing  him  hurte 
+Antalcidas        one  daye,  sayed  unto  him :    The  Thebans  have  nobely  re- 
+saying,             warded  thee  for  their  learning,  sith  thou  hast  made  them 
+expert  soldiers  unwilling  to  learne  the  discipline  of  warre. 
+These  be  the  lawes  Lycurgus  selfe  called  Retra,  and  signifie 
+as  muche  as  Oracles,  that  the  god  Apollo  had  discovered  to 
+him.      Nowe  the  education  of  children,  he  esteemed    the 
+chief  est  and  greatest  matter,  that  a  reformer  of  lawes  should 
+establishe.      Therefore  beginning  a  farre  of,  he  first  con- 
+sidered the  state  of  mariage,  and  the  generation  of  children. 
+For  Aristotle  sayeth,  that  Lycurgus  dyd  attempt  to  reforme 
+women,  and  dyd  soone  geve  it  over  againe  :  bicause  he  could 
+doe  no  good  therein,  by  reason  of  the  great  libertie  they  had 
+136  '  ^ 
+
+
+King  Leonty- 
+chidas saying. 
+
+Retra  for 
+warres. 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+taken  by  the  absence  of  their  husbands  in  the  warres,  com-   LYCURGUS 
+pelled  often  so  to  be  abroade,  and  that  they  dyd  leave  them 
+mistresses  of  their  house,  and  at  their  returne  dyd  honour 
+them  so  muche,  and  make  of  them  so  beyond  e  measure,  with 
+calling  them  ladyes  and  mistresses.     Howbeit  this  is  true, 
+that  he  had  an  eye  to  the  rule  and  order  of  their  life,  aswell 
+as  he  had  of  mens  :  and  so  reason  dyd  require.     First  of  all,  The  disciplini 
+he  willed  that  the  maydens  should  harden  their  bodyes  with  of  women 
+exercise  of  running,  wrestling,  throwe  the  barre,  and  casting  ^"^o^^est     e 
+the  darte,  to  the  ende  that  the  fruite  wherewith  they  might  njans.  Arist. 
+be  afterwardes  conceyved,  taking  norishement  of  a  stronge  poHt.  lib.  7. 
+and  lustie  bodye,  should  shoote  out  and  spread  the  better :  cap.  17. 
+and  that  they  by  gathering  strength  thus  by  exercises,  should 
+more  easely  awaye  withe  paynes  of  childe  bearing.     And  to 
+take  awaye  from  them  their  womanishe  dayntines,  and  fines.  The  exercises 
+he  brought  up  a  custome,  for  young  maydes  and  boyes  to  ^^^  disciplin 
+goe  as  it  were  a  precession,  and  to  daunce  naked  at  solemne  ^  ^^^  ^^' 
+feastes  and  sacrifices,  and  to  singe  certaine  songes  of  their 
+owne  making,  in  the  presence  and  sight  of  young  men.     To 
+whom  by  the  waye  they  gave  many  times  prety  mockes  of 
+purpose,  as  pleasauntly  hitting  them  home,  for  things  wherein 
+before  they  had  forgotten  their  dueties :  and  sometimes  also 
+in  their  songe  for  their  vertues,  wittes,  or  manners,  they 
+praysed  them  which  had  deserved  it.     By  this  meanes,  they 
+dyd  set  young  mens  hartes  a  fire,  to  strive  to  winne  most 
+prayse  and  honour.     For  who  so  was  praysed  of  them  for  a 
+valliant  man,  or  whose  worthy  actes  were  songe  by  them,  he 
+thereby  was  incoraged  to  doe  the  better  another  time :  and 
+the  pretie  girdes  and  quippes  they  gave  to  others,  was  of  no 
+lesse  force,  then  the  sharpest  wordes  and  admonitions  that 
+otherwise  could  be  geven  them.     This  tooke  place  the  rather, 
+bicause  it  was  done  in  the  presence  of  the  Kings,  the  Sena- 
+tours,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  cittizens  which  came  thither  to 
+see  these  sportes.     And  though  the  maydes  dyd  shewe  them 
+selves  thus  naked  openly,  yet  was  there  no  dishonesty  scene 
+nor  offred,  but  all  this  sporte  was  full  of  playe  and  toyes, 
+without  any  youthfull  parte  or  wantonnes :  and  rather  caried 
+a  shewe  of  demurenes,  and  a  desire  to  have  their  best  made 
+bodyes  scene  and  spyed.     Moreover,  it  somewhat  lifted  up 
+S  137 
+
+
+LYCURGUS 
+
+
+The  saying  of 
+a  Laconian 
+woman. 
+
+
+Men  that 
+would  not 
+marye,  Lycur- 
+gus  reputed 
+infamous  by 
+lawe. 
+
+
+Matrimoniall 
+ceremonies  in 
+Lacedsemon. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+their  hartes,  and  made  them  noblier  minded,  by  geving  them 
+to  understand,  that  it  was  no  lesse  comely  for  them,  in  their 
+k3nide  and  exercises  to  carie  the  bell,  then  it  was  for  men  in 
+their  games  and  exercises  to  carie  the  price.  Hereof  it 
+came,  that  the  women  of  Lacedaemon  were  so  bolde  to  saye, 
+and  thincke  of  them  selves  that,  which  Gorgona  the  wife  of 
+king  Leonidas  one  daye  aunswered :  being  in  talke  with  a 
+straunge  woman  that  sayed  to  her :  There  be  no  women  in 
+the  worlde  that  commaund  their  husbands,  but  you  wives  of 
+Lacedaemon.  Whereto  the  Queene  straight  replyed  :  So  be 
+there  no  women  but  we,  which  bringe  forth  men.  Further- 
+more, these  playes,  sportes,  and  daunses,  the  maydes  dyd 
+naked  before  younge  men,  were  provocations  to  drawe  and 
+allure  the  young  men  to  marye :  not  as  persuaded  by  geo- 
+metrical! reasons,  as  sayeth  Plato,  but  brought  to  it  by 
+liking,  and  of  very  love.  Those  which  would  not  marye,  he 
+made  infamous  by  lawe.  For  it  was  not  lawfull  for  suche 
+to  be  present,  where  these  open  games  and  pastimes  were 
+shewed  naked.  Furthermore,  the  officers  of  the  cittie  com- 
+pelled suche  as  would  not  marye,  even  in  the  hardest  time  of 
+the  winter,  to  environne  the  place  of  these  sportes,  and  to 
+goe  up  and  downe  starcke  naked,  and  to  singe  a  certaine 
+songe  made  for  the  purpose  against  them,  which  was :  that 
+justely  were  they  punished,  bicause  that  lawe  they  disobeyed. 
+Moreover,  when  suche  were  olde,  they  had  not  the  honour 
+and  reverence  done  them,  which  old  maried  men  usually 
+received.  Therefore  there  was  no  man  that  misliked,  or 
+reproved  that,  which  was  spoken  to  Dercillidas :  albeit 
+otherwise  he  was  a  noble  captaine.  For,  comming  into  a 
+presence,  there  was  a  young  man  which  would  not  vowche- 
+safe  to  rise  and  doe  him  reverence,  nor  to  geve  him  place  for 
+to  sit  downe  :  And  worthely,  quoth  he,  bicause  thou  hast  not 
+gotten  a  sonne,  who  maye  doe  so  muche  for  me  in  time  to 
+come.  Those  which  were  desirous  to  marie  any,  were  driven 
+to  take  them  awaye  by  force  whom  they  would  marie,  not 
+litle  younge  wenches  I  meane,  which  were  not  of  age  to  be 
+maried  :  but  lustie  and  strong  maides  of  age  to  beare  chil- 
+dren. And  when  one  of  them  was  stolen  awaye  in  this  sorte, 
+she  that  was  privie  thereto,  and  meane  to  make  the  mariage, 
+138 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+came  and  shaved  the  heares  of  her  head  that  was  maried :   LYCURGUS 
+then  she  put  her  into  mans  apparell,  and  gave  her  all  things 
+sute  like  to  the  same,  and  layed  her  upon  a  matteresse  all 
+alone,  without  light  or  candell.     After  this  was  done,  the 
+bridegroome,  being  neither  droncke  nor  finelier  apparrelled 
+then  he  was  wonte  to  be,  but  having  supped  soberly  at  his 
+ordinarie,  came  home  secretly  to  the  house  where  the  bride 
+was :   and  there  untied  his  wives  girdell,  tooke  her  in  his 
+amies,  layed  her  upon  a  bed,  and  talked  together  a  while, 
+and  afterwards  fayer  and  softely  stole  awaye  to  the  place, 
+where  he  was  wonte  to  sleepe  with  other  young  men.     And 
+so  from  thenceforth,  he  continued  allwayes  to  doe  the  like, 
+being  all  the  daye  time,  and  sleeping  most  of  the  night, 
+with  his  companions,  onles  he  sometime  stale  to  see  his  wife, 
+being  affrayed,  and  ashamed  ever  to  be  scene,  by  any  of  the 
+house  where  she  was.     And  hereunto  his  younge  wife  did 
+helpe  for  her  parte,  to  spye  meanes  and  occasions  howe  they 
+might   mete   together,   and   not   be   scene.      This    manner 
+endured   a   great  while,   and   untill   somme   of  them   had 
+children,  before  they  boldely  met  together,  and  sawe  cache 
+other  on  the  daye  time.     This  secret  meeting  in  this  sorte 
+did  serve  to  good  purposes,  not  only  bicause  it  was  some 
+meane  of  continencie  and  shamefastnes,   but  also   it  kept 
+their  bodies  in  strength  and  better  state,  to  bring  forth 
+children.     It  continued  also  in  both  parties,  a  still  burning  Holsomerule: 
+love,  and  a  newe  desire  of  the  one  to  the  other,  not  as  it  were  ^^^  maned 
+luke  warme,  nor  wearie,  as  theirs  commonly  be  which  have       ^ 
+their  bellies  full  of  love,  and  as  muche  as  they  lust :  but 
+they  ever  parted  with  an  appetite  one  from  another,  keeping 
+still  a  longing  desire  to  devise  howe  to  mete  againe.     Nowe 
+when  he  had  stablished  suche  a  continencie,  and  so  kynde  a 
+framed  honestie  in  mariage,  he  tooke  no  lesse  care  to  drive 
+awaye  all  foolishe  jealousie  therein,  thinking  it  very  good  Lycur^s  re- 
+reason  to  beware  there  should  be  no  violence,  nor  confusion  pj'd  to  avoyd 
+in  mariage:   and  yet  as  reason  would,  they  should  suffer  ■^^^g*^^^^^"^ 
+those  which  were  worthie  to  get  children  as  it  were  in  com-  wealth, 
+mon,  laughing  at  the  mad  follie  of  them  which  revenge  such 
+things  with  warre  and  bloudshed,  as  though  in  that  case 
+men  in  no  wise  should  have  no  fellowshippe  together.   There- 
+
+139 
+
+
+ii 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+LYCURGUS  fore  a  man  was  not  to  be  blamed,  being  stepped  in  yeres, 
+and  having  a  young  wife,  if  seeing  a  fayer  young  man  that 
+liked  him,  and  knowen  with  all  to  be  of  a  gentle  nature,  he 
+brought  him  home  to  get  his  wife  with  childe,  and  after- 
+wardes  would  avowe  it  for  his,  as  if  him  selfe  had  gotten  it. 
+It  was  lawfull  also  for  an  honest  man  that  loved  another 
+mans  wife,  for  that  he  sawe  her  wise,  shamefast,  and  bring- 
+ing forth  goodly  children,  to  intreate  her  husband  to  suffer 
+him  to  lye  with  her,  and  that  he  might  also  plowe  in  that 
+lustie  grounde,  and  cast  abroade  the  seede  of  well  favored 
+children :  which  by  this  meanes  came  to  be  common  in 
+bloude  and  parentage,  ^vith  the  most  honorable  and  honestest 
+persones.  For  first  of  all,  Lycurgus  did  not  like  that  children 
+should  be  private  to  any  men,  but  that  they  should  be 
+common  to  the  common  weale :  by  which  reason  he  would 
+also,  that  such  as  should  become  cittizens,  should  not  be 
+begotten  of  every  man,  but  of  the  most  honestest  men  only. 
+So  Lycurgus  thought  also  there  were  many  foolishe  vaine 
+toyes  and  fansies,  in  the  lawes  and  orders  of  other  nations, 
+touching  mariage :  seeing  they  caused  their  bitches  and 
+mares  to  be  limed  and  covered  with  the  fayrest  dogges  and 
+goodliest  stalons  that  might  be  gotten,  praying  or  paying 
+the  masters  and  o^vners  of  the  same :  and  kept  their  wives 
+notwithstanding  shut  up  safe  under  locke  and  key,  for  feare 
+least  other  then  them  selves  might  get  them  with  childe, 
+although  they  were  sickely,  feeble  brayned,  and  extreme 
+olde.  As  if  it  were  not  first  of  all,  and  chiefly  a  dis- 
+commoditie  to  the  fathers  and  mothers,  and  likewise  to 
+those  that  bring  them  up,  to  have  unperfect  and  feeble 
+children  borne,  as  it  were  begotten  of  drie  and  withered 
+men :  and  then  to  the  contrarie,  what  pleasure  and  benefit 
+is  it  to  those  that  have  fayer  and  good  children  borne, 
+as  gotten  of  like  seede  and  men.  These  things  were  done 
+then  by  naturall  and  civill  reason,  nevertheles  they  saye 
+women  were  so  farre  of  then  from  intreatie,  as  ever  they 
+were  before :  so  as  in  olde  time,  in  Sparta,  men  knew  not 
+what  adulterie  ment.  For  proofe  whereof,  the  aunswer  made 
+by  Geradas  (one  of  the  first  auncient  Spartans)  unto  a 
+straunger,  maye  be  alledged  :  that  asked  him,  what  punishe- 
+140 
+
+
+No  adultrie 
+showen  in 
+Sparta. 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+ment  they  had  for  adulterers.    My  friend,  quoth  he,  there  be   LYCURGUS 
+none  here.     But  if  there  were  ?  replied  the  straunger  againe. 
+Marye  sayed  he,  then  he  must  paye  as  great  a  bull,  as  stand- 
+ing upon  the  toppe  of  the  mountaine  Taygetus,  maye  drincke 
+in  the  river  of  Eurotas.     Yea  marye  :  but  howe  is  it  possible 
+(quoth  the  straunger)  to  finde  such  a  bull  ?     Geradas  laugh- 
+ing, aunswered  him  againe :  And  howe  were  it  possible  also 
+to  finde  an  adulterer  in  Sparta  ?     And  this  is  that  which  is 
+found  of  Lycurgus  lawes  touching  mariages.     Furthermore, 
+after  the  birthe  of  every  boye,  the  father  was  no  more  master  Theeducatioi 
+of  him,  to  cocker  and  bring  him  up  after  his  will :  but  he  of  children 
+him  selfe  caried  him  to  a  certaine  place  called  Lesche,  where  with  the  Lace 
+the  eldest  men  of  his  kinred  being  set,  did  viewe  the  childe.    *"VQ5iaiis> 
+And  if  they  founde  him  fayer,  and  well  proportioned  of  all  his  ^^^^"^*  J 
+limmes,  and  stronge  :  they  gave  order  he  should  be  brought    ^""-^ — ^ 
+up,  and  appointed  him  one  of  the  nine  thousand  partes  of 
+inheritaunce  for  his  education.     Contrariwise,  if  they  founde 
+him  deformed,  misshapen,  or  leane,  or  pale,  they  sent  him 
+to  be  throwen  in  a  deepe  pyt  of  water,  which  they  commonly 
+called  Apothetes,  and  as  a  man  would  saye,  the  common  Apothetes. 
+house  of  office :  holding  opinion  it  was  neither  good  for  the 
+childe,  nor  yet  for  the  common  weale,  that  it  should  live, 
+considering  from  his  birthe  he  was  not  well  made,  nor  geven 
+to  be  stronge,  healthfull,  nor  lustie  of  bodie  all  his  life  longe. 
+For  this  cause  therefore,  the  nurce  after  their  birthe  did  not 
+washe  them  with  water  simply  (as  they  doe  every  where  at 
+that  time)  but  with  water  mingled  with  wine :  and  thereby  Young  babes 
+did  they  proove,  whether  the  complexion  or  temperature  of  washed  with 
+their  bodies  were  good  or  ill.     For  they  suppose,  that  chil-  "'^°®" 
+dren  which  are  geven  to  have  the  falling  sicknes,  or  other- 
+wise to  be  full  of  rewmes  and  sicknesses,  cannot  abide  washing 
+with  wine,  but  rather  drye  and  pyne  awaye  :  as  contrarilie  the 
+other  which  are  healthfull,  become  thereby  the  stronger  and 
+the  lustier.    The  nurces  also  of  Sparta  use  a  certaine  manner  The  Spartan 
+to  bring  up  their  children,  without  swadling,  or  binding  nurces. 
+them  up  in  clothes  with  swadling  bandes,  or  having  on  their 
+heades  any  crosse  clothes  :  so  as  they  made  them  nimbler  of 
+their  limmes,  better  shaped  and  goodlier  of  bodie.     Besides 
+that,  they  acquainted  their  children  to  all  kinde  of  meates, 
+
+141 
+
+
+Pluto  of  the 
+first  Alcibia- 
+des. 
+
+
+Howe  the  La- 
+cedaemonians 
+children  were 
+brought  up. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE   NOBLE 
+
+LYCURGUS  and  brought  them  up  without  muche  tendaunce,  so  as  they 
+were  neither  fine  nor  licorous,  nor  fearefull  to  be  lefte  alone 
+in  the  darcke,  neither  were  they  criers,  wrallers,  or  unhappy 
+children,  which  be  all  tokens  of  base  and  cowardly  natures. 
+So  that  there  were  straungers,  that  of  purpose  bought 
+nources  out  of  Laconia,  to  bring  up  their  children  :  as  they 
+saye  Amycla  was  one  of  them,  which  nourced  Alcibiades. 
+But  Pericles  his  tutor,  gave  him  afterwardes  a  bonde  man 
+called  Zopyrus,  to  be  his  master  and  govemour :  who  had  no 
+better  propertie  in  him,  then  other  common  slaves.  This 
+did  not  Lycurgus.  For  he  did  not  put  the  education  and 
+government  of  the  children  of  Sparta,  into  the  handes  of 
+hyered  masters  or  slaves  bought  with  money  :  neither  was  it 
+lawfull  for  the  father  him  selfe  to  bring  up  his  owne  childe 
+after  his  owne  manner  and  liking.  For  so  soone  as  they 
+came  to  seven  yeres  of  age,  he  tooke  and  divided  them  by 
+companies,  to  make  them  to  be  brought  up  together,  and  to 
+accustome  them  to  playe,  to  leanie,  and  to  studie  one  with 
+another.  Then  he  chose  out  of  every  company  one,  whom 
+he  thought  to  have  the  best  wit,  and  had  most  courage  in 
+him  to  fight :  to  whom  he  gave  the  charge  and  oversight  of 
+his  owne  companie.  The  reste  had  their  eyes  waiting 
+allwayes  on  him,  they  did  obey  his  commaundements 
+willingly,  they  did  abide  paciently  all  corrections  he  gave 
+them,  they  did  suche  taskes  and  worckes  as  he  appointed 
+them :  so  that  all  their  studie  was  most  to  learne  to  obey. 
+Furthermore,  the  olde  graye  headed  men  were  present  many 
+times  to  see  them  playe,  and  for  the  most  parte  they  gave 
+them  occasions  to  fall  out,  and  to  fight  one  with  another, 
+that  they  might  thereby  the  better  knowe  and  discerne  the 
+naturall  disposition  of  every  one  of  them,  and  whether  they 
+gave  any  signes  or  tokens  in  time  to  come,  to  become 
+cowardes  or  valiant  men.  Touching  learning,  they  had  as 
+muche  as  served  their  turne  :  for  the  reste  of  their  time  they 
+spent  in  learning  howe  to  obey,  to  awaye  with  payne,  to 
+indure  labour,  to  overcome  still  in  fight.  Accordirg  to  their 
+groweth  and  yeres,  they  dyd  chaunge  the  exercises  of  their 
+bodyes :  they  dyd  shave  their  heads,  they  went  barelegged, 
+they  were  constrained  to  playe  naked  together  the  most  parte 
+142 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+of  their  time.  After  they  were  past  twelve  yeres  of  age,  LYCURGUJ 
+they  ware  no  lenger  coates :  and  they  gave  them  yerely  but 
+one  seely  gowne.  This  was  the  cause  they  were  alwayes  so 
+nasty  and  sluttishe,  and  they  never  used  to  bathe  or  noynte 
+them  selves,  saving  only  at  certaine  dayes  in  the  yere,  when 
+they  were  suffered  to  tast  of  this  refreshing.  They  laye  and 
+slept  together  upon  beddes  of  straw,  which  they  them  selves 
+dyd  make,  of  the  toppes  of  reedes  or  canes  that  grewe  in  the 
+river  of  Eurotas  :  which  they  were  forced  to  goe  gather  and 
+breake  them  selves  with  their  handes,  without  any  toole  or 
+iron  at  all.  In  the  winter,  they  dyd  mingle  thistle  downe  It  is  a  kiude 
+with  these,  which  is  called  LycophonaSy  bicause  that  stuffe  "^  thistle  in 
+seemeth  somewhat  warme  of  it  selfe.  About  this  time,  the  t'leMesseina 
+favorers  and  likers  of  this  prety  youthe,  which  were  com-  He^chias. 
+monly  the  lustiest  and  best  disposed  youthes  of  the  cittie, 
+beganne  to  be  ofter  in  their  companie :  and  then  the  olde 
+men  tooke  the  better  regarde  unto  them,  and  frequented 
+more  commonly  the  places  of  their  daylie  exercises,  and 
+where  their  use  was  to  fight  together,  helping  them  when 
+they  played,  how  one  should  mocke  another.  This  dyd  their 
+olde  men,  not  by  waye  of  pastime  only,  but  with  suche  care 
+and  harty  love  towards  them,  as  if  they  had  bene  altogether 
+their  fathers,  masters,  and  governours,  Mobile  they  were  boyes : 
+in  so  much  as  there  was  never  time  nor  place,  where  they  had 
+not  all  way  es  some  to  admonishe,  reprove,  or  correct  them,  if 
+they  dyd  a  faulte.  Notwithstanding  all  this,  there  was  ever 
+one  of  the  honestest  men  of  the  cittie,  who  had  expressely  the 
+charge  and  governaunce  of  these  boyes.  He  dyd  divide  them 
+in  companies,  and  afterwards  gave  the  oversight  of  them,  to 
+suche  a  one  of  the  boyes  as  was  discreetest,  the  manliest,  the 
+most  bardie,  and  of  the  best  corage  amongest  them.  They 
+called  the  children  that  were  past  infancie  two  yeres,  Irenes :  Irenes. 
+and  the  greatest  boyes  Melirenes :  as  who  woulcl  saye,  ready  Melirenes. 
+to  goe  out  of  boyerie.  This  boye  who  was  made  overseer  of 
+them,  was  commonly  twenty  yprps  nf  acrp  He  was  their 
+captaine  when  they  fought,  and  did  commaunde  them  as  his 
+servaunts  when  they  were  in  the  house :  and  willed  them 
+which  were  strongest,  and  the  most  grovven,  to  carie  wodde 
+when  they  should  prepare  dinner  or  supper,  and  those  which 
+
+143 
+
+
+LYCURGUS 
+
+
+The  theeverie 
+of  the  Lace- 
+daemouians. 
+
+
+Straight  dyet 
+causeth 
+growth  and 
+height. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+were  least  and  weakest,  to  goe  gather  erbes,  which  they  must 
+steale  or  lacke  them.     So  they  went  out  to  steale  some  in 
+gardens,  some  at  the  markets,  other  in  the  halles  where  the 
+feastes  were  kept,  and  men  did  eate  together,  into  the  which 
+they  conveyed  them  selves  as  closely  and  cumiingly  as  they 
+could  devise  :  for  if  they  were  taken  with  the  manner,  they 
+were  scourged  terriblie,  because  they  were   so   grosse  and 
+necligent,  and  not  fine  and  cunning  in  their  facultie.     They 
+stole  also  all  other  kinde  of  meate,  whatsoever  they  could  get 
+or  laye  hands  on.    They  pried  and  sought  all  occasions  howe 
+to  take  and  steale  meate  handsomely,  bothe  when  men  were 
+asleepe,  or  els  that  they  were  careles,  or  did  not  geve  good 
+hede  unto  them.     But  he  that  was  taken  with  the  manner, 
+had  his  payment  roundely,  and  was  punished  with  fasting 
+besides:  for  they  had  but  a  slender  pittaunce,  bicause  necessity 
+should  drive  them  to  venter  boldely,  and  wit  should  finde  out 
+all  the  devises  to  steale  finely.     This  was  the  chiefest  cause, 
+why  they  gave  them  so  small  a  diet.    The  seconde  cause  was, 
+that  their  bodies  might  growe  up  higher  in  height.    For  the 
+vitall  spirites  not  being  occupied  to  concoct  and  digest  much 
+meate,  nor  yet  kept  downe,  or  spread  abroade  by  the  quan- 
+titie  or  overburden  thereof,  doe  enlarge  them  selves  into 
+lengthe,  and  shoote  up  for  their  lightnes :  and  for  this  reason 
+they  thought  the  bodie  did  growe  in  height  and  lengthe, 
+having  nothing  to  let,  or  hinder  the  rising  of  the  same.     It 
+seemeth,  that  the  same  selfe  cause  made  them  fayerer  also. 
+For  the  bodies  that  are  leane  and  slender,  doe  better  and 
+more  easely  yeld  to  nature,  which  bringeth  a  better  propor- 
+tion and  forme  to  every  member:  and  contrariwise  it  seemeth 
+these  grosse,  corpulent,  and  overfedde  bodies  doe  encounter 
+nature,  and  be  not  so  nimble  and  pliant  to  her,  by  reason  of 
+their  heavy  substaunce.     As  we  see  it  by  experience,  the 
+children  which  women  bring  a  litle  before  their  time,  and  be 
+somwhat  cast  before  they  should  have  bene  borne,  be  smaller 
+and  fayerer  also,  and  more  pure  commonly  then  other  that 
+goe  their  time :  bicause  the   matter  whereof  the  bodie  is 
+formed,  being  more  supple  and  pliant,  is  the  easelier  welded 
+by  nature,  which  geveth  them  their  shape  and  forme.    Touch- 
+ing the  naturall  cause  of  this  effect,  let  us  geve  place  to  other 
+144 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+to  dispute  it  that  will,  without  our  further  deciding  of  the  LYCURGUS 
+same.     But  to  returne  to  the  matter  of  the  Lacedaemonians 
+children.     They  dyd  robbe  with  so  great  care,  and  feare  to 
+be  discovered  :  that  they  tell  of  one,  which  having  stolen  a 
+litle  foxe,  dyd  hyde  him  under  his  cloke,  and  suffered  him 
+with  his  teethe  and  clawes  to  teare  out  all  his  bellie,  and 
+never  cryed,  for  feare  he  should  have  bene  betrayed,  untill 
+he  fell  downe  dead  in  the  place  where  he  stoode.     This  is 
+not  uncredible,  by  that  we  see  younge  boyes  doe  abide  at 
+this   daye :    for  we   have   scene  divers,  which  have  bidden 
+whipping  even  to  death,  upon  the  altar  of  Diana,  surnamed 
+Orthia,     Nowe  this  under  master,  who  had  the  charge  of 
+every  companie  of  these  boyes,  used  after  supper  (sitting  yet  Childrens 
+at  the  table)  to  byd  one  of  them  singe  a  songe :  to  another  exercise  after 
+he  put  forth  a  question,  who  was  to  be  well  advised  of  his  *  ^^^  supper, 
+aunswer,  as  for  example  :  Who  is  the  honestest  man  in  the         „         ,     ^ 
+cittie  ?  or  Howe  thinckest  thou  by  that  such  a  one  dyd  ?    By        K^^-a.  i'\ 
+this  exercise  they  were  enured  from  boyes  state,  to  judge  of        j\X.^^ 
+things  well   or  ill  done,  and   to   understand   the  life  ^^^^  „^i^^^^j^ 
+government  of  their  cittizens.     For  which  of  them  did  not  v--v^~^ 
+
+aunswer  quickly  and  directly  to  these  questions,  who  is  a 
+good  man,  who  is  an  honest  cittizen,  and  who  not :  they 
+thought  it  was  a  signe  of  a  dulle  wit,  and  careles  nature, 
+not  geven  to  any  vertue,  for  desire  of  honour  and  estimation. 
+Furthermore  this  under  master  was  ever  to  waite  for  his 
+aunswer,  and  to  see  it  should  be  brief  and  well  knyt  up  in 
+wordes  :  otherwise  his  punishement  that  aunswered  crossely, 
+or  to  litle  purpose,  was  that  his  master  byt  him  by  the 
+thumbe.  This  he  dyd  many  times  in  the  presence  of  the 
+olde  men  and  magistrates  of  the  cittie,  that  they  might  see 
+whether  he  punished  them  with  reason  or  not,  and  according 
+to  their  deserving.  And  though  he  dyd  hurte  him,  they  dyd 
+not  by  and  by  reprove  him,  but  when  the  children  were  gone 
+awaye,  then  was  he  him  selfe  rebuked  and  punished,  if  he 
+had  corrected  them  to  sore,  or  contrarylie  had  favored  them 
+to  muche.  Moreover  they  dyd  ascribe  the  good  or  ill 
+opinion  conceaved  of  the  children,  unto  every  of  their 
+favorers,  and  lovers,  which  dyd  affect  and  entertaine  them  : 
+in  asmuch  as  they  saye,  a  young  boye  upon  a  time  fighting 
+T  145 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+LYCURGUS  with  another,  and  a  crye  scaping  out  of  his  mouthe,  which 
+
+his  fainte  cowardly  harte  dyd  yelde,  his  favorer  and  lover 
+
+was  straight  condemned  by  the  officers  of  the  cittie  to  a  fine. 
+
+Albeit  this  love  was  a  thing  even  incorporated  into  them, 
+
+that  the  most   honest   and   vertuousest   women    loved  the 
+
+The  Lacedae-    young  maydes  thus  also  :  yet  was  there  no  jealousie  nor 
+
+monians  man-  suspition  that  grewe  hereof,  but  rather  to  the  contrarie,  there 
+
+nero    oving.    g^g^g  g^  marvelous  mutuall  love  and  kyndnes  betweene  them, 
+
+which  loved  in  one  selfe  place.    For  either  of  them  by  all 
+
+the  meanes  they  could,  dyd  devise  howe  to  make  the  childe 
+
+they  loved  in  common,  the  wisest,  the  gentlest,  and  the  best 
+
+conditioned  above  all  other.     They  taught  these  children  to 
+
+speake  in  suche  sorte,  that  their  speache  had  ever  in  it  a 
+
+pleasaunt   grace,  and  in  fewe  wordes  comprehended  much 
+
+matter.     For  Lycurgus  ordained,  a  great  masse  and  weight 
+
+of  iron  money,  should  be  but  litle  worthe,  and  of  a  small 
+
+value,  as  we  have  tolde  you  before :   and  contrarilie,  that 
+
+speache  in  fewe  wordes,  without  any  affectation,  should  holde 
+
+Short  speache  much  deepe  and  grave  matter,  wherewith  the  children  being 
+
+taught  among  acquainted,  after  long  silence,  should  be  brief  and  pitthie  in 
+
+the  Lacedae-     their  aunswers.     For  as  the  seede  of  incontinent  men  which 
+
+are  to  busie  with  every  ragge  and  colman  hedge,  can  take  no 
+
+roote  to  bringe  forth  fruite :  even  so  immoderate  speache, 
+
+full  of  wordes  and  busie  tattle,  bringeth  forth  as  litle  sense. 
+
+Hereof  it  commeth,  that  the  aunswers  of  the  Laconians  were 
+
+so  shorte  and  witty.     As  they  saye,  king  Agis  aunswered  on  a 
+
+daye  an  Athenian,  who  jesting  at  the  swords  the  Lacedag- 
+
+monians  dyd  were,  sayed  they  were  so  shorte,  that  these 
+
+tumblers,  and  jugglers  dyd  swallowe  them  downe  in  the  sight 
+
+of  all  the  world  :  And  yet  sayed  Agis,  we  hurte  our  enemies 
+
+with  them  for  all  that.     For  mine  owne  opinion,  I  like  well 
+
+of  the  Laconians  manner  of  speaking  :  which  is  not  to  speake 
+
+much,  but  when  they  speake,  to  touch  the  matter  effectually, 
+
+and  to  make  the  hearers  understand  them.     I  thincke  also, 
+
+Lycurguswise  that  Lycurgus  selfe,  was  shorte  and  quicke  in  his  talke.    For 
+
+aunswers.         g^  g^  j-j^^j^  jjjg^y  conjecture  by  his  aunswers  which  are  written  : 
+
+as  that  which  he  made  to  one  who  earnestly  prayed  him  to 
+
+stablishe  a  popular  state  in  Lacedasmon,  that  the  basest 
+
+might  have  as  great  authoritie  as  the  highest.      Beginne 
+
+146 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+(quoth  he)  to  doe  it  first  in  thine  owne  house.    And  as  that  LYCURGUS 
+
+also  which  he  aunswered  another  who  asked  him,  why  he  had 
+
+appointed  so  small  things,  and  so  little  of  value  to  be  offered 
+
+to  the  goddes  ?    Bicause  (quoth  he)  we  should  never  cease  to  Lycurgus 
+
+honour  them.     And  as  that  which  he  spake  another  time,  love  to  god. 
+
+touching  fightes  and  frayes,  whicli  was  :  that  he  dyd  never 
+
+forbid  his  cittizens  any  of  them,  but  those  wherein  they  use 
+
+to  geve  their  hande,  as  you  would  saye  to  yeld.     Men  finde  To  geve  a 
+
+also  suche  like  aunswers,  in  some  of  his  letters  written  to  his  hand,  is  to 
+
+cittizens,  as  when  they  asked  him  :    Howe  can  we  defende  confesse  him 
+
+1  .     .         •'  •      o     TT  J      xr         1-     self  overcome, 
+
+our  selves  agamst  our  enemies .''     He  aunswered :   It  ye  be 
+
+poore,  and  one  doe  covet  no  more  then  another.     And  in 
+another  letter  that  was  sent,  where  he  discourseth,  whether 
+it  were  requisite  to  inclose  the  cittie  with  walles :  he  sayeth, 
+Can  that  cittie  be  without  walles,  which  is  environned  with 
+men,  though  it  be  uncompassed  with  stone  ?    Nevertheles  it 
+is  harde  to  resolve,  whether  those  letters,  and  other  suche 
+like  that  are  shewed,  be  to  be  beleeved,  or  discredited  to  be 
+his.    But  that  long  speache  was  much  disliked,  and  reproved  Shorte 
+among  the  Lacedaemonians,  it  is  manifestly  to  be  scene  by  sentences 
+the  words,  which  somme  amongest   them  have  heretofore  L^conians 
+aunswered.     As  king  Leonidas  sayed  one  daye,  to  one  that 
+discoursed  with  him  many  good  things,  but  out  of  season :  Leonidas. 
+Friend,  thou  speakest  many  good  words,  but  to  litle  purpose.     _. 
+And  Charilaus,  nephew  to  Lycurgus,  being  asked  why  his  Charilaus. 
+uncle  made  so  fewe  lawes  :  Bicause  sayed  he,  to  men  of  fewe 
+wordes,  fewe   lawes  will  serve.     And  Archidamidas  sayed  Archida- 
+thus  to  somme,  which  reproved  Hecataeus  the  Orator,  for  "^^^^^• 
+that  being  bidden  to  supper  at  one  of  their  feasts  he  spake 
+not  a  worde  all  supper   time  :    He  who  can  speake  well, 
+knoweth  also   when  to  speake.      And  where  I  have  tolde 
+before,  that  in  their  feate  and  quicke  aunswers,  commonly 
+there  was  some  prety  grace,  it  maye  be  well  seene  and  knowen 
+by  these  that  followe.    Demaratus  aunswered  a  busie  fellowe  Sharpe  sen- 
+who  troubled  him  to  much  with  vaine  importunate  questions,  fences  of  the 
+asking  him  still :  who  was  the  honestest  man  of  Lacedasmon  ? 
+Even  he  that  is  least  like  thy  selfe.     And  Agis  sayed  to  Demaratus. 
+somme  which  highely  praysed  the  Elians  for  their  upright  Agis. 
+judgement,  and  just  dealing  in  the  games  Olympicall :  What 
+
+147 
+
+
+LYCURGUS 
+
+Theopompus. 
+
+
+Plistonax, 
+Pausanias 
+Sonne. 
+
+
+Archida- 
+midas. 
+
+
+In  the  life  of 
+Agesilaus. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+wonder  make  ye  of  it  (quoth  he)  if  in  five  yeres  space  the 
+Elians  one  daye  doe  good  justice?  And  Theopompus  like- 
+wise to  a  straunger,  who  as  desirous  to  shew  his  affection  he 
+bare  the  Lacedaemonians,  told  him  how  every  bodye  called 
+him  Philolacon  (as  to  saye)  a  lover  of  Lacedaemon.  It  were 
+more  honestie  for  thee  (sayed  he)  to  be  named  Philolites,  a 
+lover  of  her  cittizens.  And  Plistonax  the  sonne  of  Pausanias, 
+when  an  Orator  of  Athens  sayed  the  Lacedaemonians  were 
+unlearned,  and  ignorant :  thou  say  est  true,  quoth  he,  for  we 
+only  of  all  the  Grecians  have  learned  none  of  your  ill  condi- 
+tions. And  Archidamidas,  to  one  that  demaunded  of  him, 
+what  number  of  fighting  men  there  might  be  of  the  Spartans : 
+Enowe  sayd  he,  to  drive  awaye  the  wicked.  We  may  con- 
+jecture also  their  manner  of  speaking,  by  their  wordes  in 
+mirthe,  which  they  spake  sometimes  playing  wise :  for  they 
+dyd  never  use  to  speake  vaine  wordes  at  randone,  but  it  had 
+alwayes  some  secret  meaning  in  it,  which  required  anothers 
+good  observation  that  would  finde  it.  As  he  which  was  desired 
+to  goe  heare  the  nightingall  counterfeated  naturally  :  I  have 
+(sayed  he)  heard  the  nightingall  it  selfe.  And  another  which 
+having  redde  this  inscription  upon  a  tumbe. 
+
+When  as  they  had,  well  quenched  tyrannie 
+throughout  their  lande,  by  worthie  warlike  power, 
+
+The;r  happe  was  yet  in  wretched  wise  to  dye, 
+by  scaling  Selynuntaes  strongest  tower. 
+
+They  well  deserved  death,  sayed  he,  that  dyd  but  quenche 
+tyrannie :  they  should  have  quite  consumed  it  with  fire. 
+And  one  younger  boye  to  another,  promising  to  geve  him 
+suche  hardie  cockes  of  the  game,  as  should  dye  in  the  place 
+where  they  fought :  O  geve  me  not  those  (said  he)  which 
+will  dye,  but  those  which  with  fighting  will  kill  others. 
+Another  seeing  men  sitting  in  coches  and  litters  as  they 
+went :  God  forbid  (said  he)  that  I  should  ever  sit  in  a  chayer, 
+where  I  could  not  rise  to  my  elders.  Suche  were  their 
+aunswers  and  encounters.  So  that  somme  had  reason  which 
+sayed  heretofore,  to  speake  Laconian  like,  was  to  be  philo- 
+sopher like  :  as  you  would  saye,  more  to  exercise  the  minde, 
+then  the  bodye.     Besides  all  this,  they  dyd  studie  to  singe 
+
+148 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+well,  and  to  make  goodly  ditties  and  songes.     Then  they  LYCURGUS 
+
+spake  most  properly  and  feately.     There  was  in  their  songs  The  Lacedse- 
+
+also  a  certaine  motion,  I  wote  not  what,  which  stirred  up  the  monians 
+
+hearers  hartes,  and  dyd  kindle  desire  in  them  to  doe  notable  songes. 
+
+feates.     Their  tongue  was  plaine,  without  affectation  :  their 
+
+matter  grave  and  morall,  conteining  for  the  most  parte  the 
+
+prayse  of  those,  which  were  slayne  in  battell  for  the  defence 
+
+of  their  countrie,  as  being  happy  men  :  and  a  shame  to  those 
+
+that  live,  which  for  fainte  hartes  refused  so  to  dye,  to  leade 
+
+a  miserable  and  unfortunate  life.     Or  els  they  sange  howe 
+
+they  were  the  patternes  for  time  to  come,  or  the  right  glorie 
+
+of  the  worlde,  and  the  true  representation  of  vertuous  men : 
+
+as  the  songe  Avould  best  become  their  ages  which  dyd  singe. 
+
+It  shall  not  be  impartinent  for  the  better  understanding 
+
+hereof,  to  bring  you  here  an  example.     For  in  their  open 
+
+feasts,  there  were  alwayes  three  daunces,  according  to  the  Three  daunces 
+
+difference  of  the  three  ages.     The  daunce  of  the  olde  men,  among  the 
+
+thus  beganne  first  for  to  sina-e.  Lacedsemo- 
+
+°  °  mans. 
+
+We  have  bene  young  and  strong,  yea  valliant  heretofore, 
+till  crooked  age  did  holde  us  backe,  and  bad  us  doe  no  more. 
+
+The  young  men  followed  after,  singing  : 
+
+We  yet  are  young,  bolde,  strong,  and  ready  to  maintaine 
+
+that  quarell  still,  against  all  men  that  doe  on  earthe  remaine. 
+
+The  third  was  of  children  that  came  after  and  sayed  : 
+
+Aiid  we  doe  hope  aswell,  to  passe  you  all  at  last, 
+
+and  that  the  worlde  shall  witnes  be,  ere  many  yeres  be  past. 
+
+To  conclude,  who  nerely  will  consider  the  worcks  and 
+makings  of  the  Lacon  poets  (wherof  some  are  yet  extant) 
+and  will  marke  also  the  notes  and  tunes  of  the  pipe,  after 
+the  sound  and  measure  whereof  they  marched  in  arraye, 
+going  to  charge  the  enemie  :  he  shall  finde,  that  Terpander,  Terpander  of 
+and  Pindarus,  had  reason  to  joyne  hardynes  with  musicke.  the  Lacedae- 
+For  Terpander  speaking  of  the  Lacedaemonians,  sayeth  in  a  "^oiiians. 
+place : 
+
+This  is  that  lande  where  deedes  of  chevalrie, 
+did  florishe  most,  in  many  a  martiall  feate  : 
+
+149 
+
+
+LYCURGUS 
+
+
+Pyndarus  of 
+the  Lacedae- 
+
+
+The  longe 
+bushes  and 
+heare  of  the 
+Laconians. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+Where  musickc  made,  her  choise  of  hannonic, 
+and  justice  kept  her  stately  royall  seate. 
+
+And  Pindarus  speaking  of  them  also  sayeth  : 
+
+There  :  grave  advise,  is  founde  in  aged  braynes  : 
+there  :  gallant  youthes,  are  lusty  ladds  in  dede. 
+
+Which  can  both  singe,  and  daunce,  in  courtlike  traines  : 
+yet  dant  their  foes,  with  many  a  doughty  dede. 
+
+By  which  testimonies  it  appeareth,  the  one  and  the  other 
+made,  and  describeth  them  to  have  loved  musicke,  and  the 
+warres  together.     For  as  another  Lacon  poet  sayeth, 
+
+It  sitteth  well,  and  is  a  semely  thinge, 
+
+for  such  as  spend  their  time  in  feats  of  warre  : 
+
+To  have  the  skyll,  swete  sonets  for  to  singe, 
+and  touche  the  harpe  withouten  jangling  jarre. 
+
+For  this  cause  therefore  in  all  their  warres,  when  they 
+should  geve  battell,  the  King  dyd  first  sacrifice  to  the  Muses, 
+to  put  his  souldiers  in  minde  (as  it  should  seeme)  of  the 
+discipline  and  wisdome  of  the  Muses  that  they  had  bene 
+brought  up  in,  to  the  end  that  when  his  souldiers  were  in 
+the  most  extreme  daunger,  the  Muses  should  present  them 
+selves  before  the  souldiers  eyes,  to  pricke  them  forward  to 
+doe  some  noble  actes  of  worthy  memorie.  In  their  time  of 
+Avarre,  they  dyd  tollerate  their  young  men  a  litle  of  their 
+hard  and  old  accustomed  life,  and  suffered  them  then  to 
+trime  their  heares,  to  have  brave  armour,  to  weare  gay 
+apparell,  and  tooke  as  great  delight  therein,  to  see  them 
+gallant,  and  lustie,  as  to  behold  young  neying  and  snorting 
+horse,  desirous  for  to  fight.  And  althoughe  from  the  begin- 
+ning of  their  youthe,  they  dyd  use  to  weare  longe  heares  : 
+yet  were  they  never  so  carefull  to  combe  and  brushe  their 
+heades,  as  when  they  should  to  the  battell.  For  when  they 
+dyd  nointe  them  selves  with  sweete  oyles,  and  dyd  shed  their 
+heare,  remembring  Lycurgus  saying :  who  was  wont  to  tell 
+them,  that  heares  to  them  which  were  fayer,  dyd  make  them 
+more  fayer,  and  to  them  that  were  fowle,  they  made  them 
+more  ougly  and  dredfull.  The  exercises  also  of  their  bodies, 
+were  more  easie  and  gentle,  and  not  so  hard  and  straight  in 
+their  warres,  as  they  were  in  a  peace  :  and  generally,  their 
+
+150 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+whole  manner  of  life  was  not  then  so  straightly  viewed,  nor  LYCURGUS 
+vet  controlled.     So  as  they  only  were  the  men  of  the  world, 
+to  whom  warres  were  made  a  rest  from  labour,  which  men 
+ordinarylie  doe  endure,  to  make  them  the  fitter  for  the 
+warres.     Afterwardes  when  their  armie  was  set  in   battell  How  the 
+raye,  even  in  the  face  of  the  enemie,  the  King  dyd  straight  L»conians  be- 
+sacrifice  a  goate  unto  the  goddes,  and  forthwith  commaunded  S^""®  battell. 
+all  his  souldiers  to  put  their  garlands  of  flowers  on  their 
+heades,  and  willed  that  the  pipes  should  sownd  the  songe  of  TheLaconians 
+Castor  :  at  the  noyse  and  tune  whereof,  he  him  selfe  beganne  ^^nge  when 
+first  to  marche  forward.     So  that  it  was  a  marvelous  plea-  g^^  j^J^  '^' " 
+sure,  and  likewise  a  dredfull  sight,  to  see  the  whole  battell 
+marche  together  in  order,  at  the  sound  of  the  pipes,  and 
+never  to  breake  their  pace,  nor  confounde  their  ranckes,  nor 
+to   be    dismayde   nor   amazed    themselves,  but    to   goe  on 
+quietly  and  joyfully  at  the  sounde  of  these  pipes,  to  hazard 
+themselves  even  to  death.    For  it  is  likely,  that  such  corages 
+are  not  troubled  with  much  feare,  nor  yet  overcome  with 
+much  furie :  but  rather  they  have  an  assured  constancie  and 
+valliantnes  in  good  hope,  as  those  which   are  backed  with 
+the  assisting  favour  of  the  goddes.     The  King  marching  in 
+this  order,  had  allwayes  some  about  him,  which  had  before 
+time  wonne  the  prises  in  games  and  justes.     And  they  saye 
+there  was  one  of  these  on  a  time,  that  was  offered  a  great 
+some  of  money  at  the  games  Olympicall,  not  to  present  him 
+selfe  at  them  :  but  he  refused  it,  liking  better  with  great 
+payne  to  winne  the  prise,  then  for  muche  money  to  lose  his 
+honour.     Whereupon  one  sayed  unto  him,  Laconian :  and 
+what  hast  thou  gotten  nowe,  to  carie  away  the  prise  with  so 
+much    swet  ?     The   Laconian  aunswered    him    laughing :    I 
+shall  fight  in  the  battell,  sayeth  he,  before  the  King.    When 
+they  had  once  broken  into   their  enemies,  they  dyd  still 
+fiercely  and  fiercelier  set  upon  them,  and  dyd  never  cease, 
+untill  their  enemies  gave  waye  and  fled  :    and  then  they 
+chased  and  followed  them   still,  untill  such  time  as  their  How  farre 
+overthrowe   and  flight  had  assured  them    of  the  victorie.  *^®  ^^^^^^^j 
+Then  they  quickly  and  quietly  returned  to  their  campe,  JJJ'r^u^the^r 
+judging  it  to  be  no  manhod,  neither  the  parte  of  a  noble  enemies, 
+minde,  or  of  so  worthye  a  nation  as  the  Grecians  were,  to 
+
+151 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+LYCURGUS  kill  and  hewe  in  peeces,  men  so  scattered  and  out  of  order, 
+having  forsaken  all  the  hope  of  victorie.     This  fell  out  not 
+only  honorable,  but  also  very  profitable  for  them.     For  they 
+which   were   in  battell  against  them,  knowing  they  killed 
+none  but  suche  as  resisted  stowtely,  and  howe  they  dyd  let 
+other  goe  which  fled  before  them  :  they  found  it  was  more 
+their  benefit  to  flye,  then  to  tarie  and  abide  the  strokes. 
+Lycurgus  a       Hippias  the  sophister  sayeth,  that  Lycurgus  him  selfe  was  a 
+very  good         very  good  captaine,  and  a  great  souldier,  as  he  that  had 
+captaine.  ^jg^^^  ^^  many  foughten  fieldes  :  and  Philostephanus  ascribeth 
+
+to  him  the  devise  to  put  horsemen  in  troupes  and  companies, 
+Oulames.  which  they  called  Oulames,  whereof  fiftie  men  at  armes  was 
+
+a  troupe,  whose  manner  was  to  put  them  selves  in  squadrons. 
+But  Demetrius  the  Phalerian  writeth  otherwise,  that  Ly- 
+curgus was  never  at  the  warres,  and  that  he  made  all  his 
+lawes  and  government  in  a  full  peace.  But  in  my  opinion, 
+the  intermission  of  warres  during  the  playes  Olympicall, 
+which  they  saye  he  devised,  doeth  shew  in  apparaunce  that 
+he  was  a  gentle  natured  man,  and  one  that  loved  quietnes 
+and  peace.  Some  notwithstanding  (amongest  whom  Her- 
+mippus  was  one)  saye,  he  was  not  with  Iphitus  at  the  first 
+beginning  when  he  ordeined  the  playes  Olympicall,  but  that 
+by  chaunce  he  happened  to  come  thither,  passing  by  in  his 
+jorney  only,  and  that  he  stayed  there  to  see  the  games: 
+where  he  thought  he  heard  the  voyce  of  a  man  behinde  him, 
+saying,  he  marvelled  much  why  he  dyd  not  persuade  his 
+cittizens  also  to  be  parteners  of  this  newe  devise :  and  turn- 
+ing backe  to  see  who  it  was  that  spake  to  him,  he  sawe  no 
+bodye.  Whereupon  he  tooke  a  conceit  that  it  was  a  speache 
+from  the  goddes :  and  went  therefore  presently  to  seeke  out 
+Iphitus,  with  whom  he  made  all  the  statutes  and  orders  of 
+the  feast,  which  afterwardes  were  farre  more  famous,  better 
+ordered,  and  more  stately  then  before.  But  to  returne 
+ao-aine  to  the  Lacedaemonians :  their  discipline  and  order  of 
+life  continued  still,  after  they  were  full  growen  men.  For  it 
+was  not  la'\\'full  for  any  man  to  live  as  he  listed,  but  they 
+were  within  their  cittie,  as  if  they  had  bene  in  a  campe, 
+where  every  man  knoweth  what  allowance  he  hath  to  live 
+withall,  and  what  busines  he  hath  els  to  doe  in  his  calling. 
+152 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+To  be  shorte,  they  were  all  of  this  minde,  that  they  were  not   LYCURGUS 
+borne  to   serve  them    selves,  but  to   serve  their   countrie.  The  Laco- 
+Therfore  if  they  were  commaunded  nothing  els,  they  went  nians  opinion, 
+continually  to  see  what  the  children   dyd,  and  to  teache  *^  sene  their 
+them  somewhat  which  might  profit  the  common  weale,  or 
+els  they  went  to  learne  of  those  which  were  their  elders. 
+For  one  of  the  best  and  happiest  things  which  Lycurgus 
+ever  brought  into  his  cittie,  was  the  great  rest  and  leysure  The  rest  and 
+which  he  made  his  cittizens  to  have,  only  forbidding  them  leysure  of  the 
+that  they  should  not  professe  any  vile  or  base  occupation :     ?^^  aemo- 
+and  they  needed  not  also  to  be  carefull  to  get  great  riches, 
+in  a  place  where  goodes  were  nothing  profitable  nor  esteemed. 
+For  the  Ilotes,  which  were  made  bonde  men  by  the  warres, 
+dyd  till  their  groundes,  and  yeelded  them  a  certaine  revenue 
+every  year.     And  as  touching  this  matter,  they  tell  of  a   '-* 
+Lacedaemonian,  who  being  on  a  daye  at  Athens  where  the 
+lawe  was  pleaded,  dyd  understand  that  a  cittizen  there  was 
+condemned  for  Idlenes,  and  howe  he  went  home  to  his  house  Idle  livers 
+very  sorowfully,  accompanied  with  his  friends  which  were  punished  at 
+sorie  for  him,  and    greatly  lamented  his  ill  happe.     The 
+Lacedaemonian  then  prayed  those  which  were  about  him,  to 
+shewe  him  the  man  condemned  for  living  nobly,  and  like  a 
+gentleman.     I  have  alledged  this,  to  shew  how  he  thought 
+it  a  vile  and  servill  thing  to  exercise  any  handy  craft,  or  to 
+worke  any  thing  by  hande  to  get  money.     For  sutes  in  lawe,  Sutes  in  lawe 
+a  man  maye  be  well  assured  they  were  banished  with  the  ^^'f^  a\vaye 
+golde  and  silver  from  Lacedaemon,  considering  now  there  ^nd  silver  that 
+was  no  more  avarice  nor  covetousnes  there,  nor  yet  povertie  ^.^s  banished, 
+nor  lacke,  but  equalitie  with   aboundaunce,  and  quiet  life 
+with  sobrietie.     All  other  times  but  when  they  had  warres,  How  they 
+they  followed  daunsing,  feastes,  playes,  bankets,  hunting,  or  spent  the  time 
+other  exercises  of  bodye,  and  meetinges  to  passe  the  time  away.  *"    ^"^  ^* 
+For  the  younge  men  untill  they  came  to  thirtie  yeres  of  age, 
+never  went  into  the  market  to  buye  any  provision  or  things 
+for  the  house,  but  dyd  their  fathers  or  their  friends  busines : 
+naye  it  was  a  shame  for  the  oldest  men,  to  hawnte  the 
+market  to  often.     As  to  the  contrary,  it  was  honorable  for 
+them  to  be  present  at  the  shewe  place  the  most  parte  of  the 
+daye,  where  they  diversely  exercised  their  bodyes,  and  like- 
+U  153 
+
+
+\  The  Lacedae- 
+monians lived 
+not  privately 
+to  them  selves 
+in  the  com- 
+mon weale. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+LYCURGUS  ^vise  to  be  at  the  plax:es  of  assembly,  there  to  spend  time 
+with  talking  together,  and  discoursing  honestly  one  with 
+another,  without  talking  of  any  matter  of  gaine,  traffike,  or 
+money.  For  all  their  talke  (for  the  most  parte)  was  about 
+the  praysing  of  some  honest  thing,  or  sportingwise  to  reprove 
+some  dishonestie,  which  alwayes  caried  with  it  some  gentle 
+lesson  or  monition  by  the  waye.  For  Lycurgus  was  not  such 
+a  sower  man,  as  they  never  sawe  him  laughe  :  but  as  Sosibius 
+writeth,  it  was  he  that  first  sacrificed  to  the  litle  god  of 
+laughture,  which  is  at  Lacedasmon,  bicause  he  would  mingle 
+their  feastes  and  assemblies  with  mirthe,  as  a  pleasaunt  sawce 
+
+to  ease  the  trouble  of  their  strickt  and  harde  life.     To  be 
+
+brief,  he  did  accustome  his  cittizens  so,  that  they  neither 
+would  nor  could  live  alone,  but  were  in  manner  as  men  incor- 
+porated one  with  another,  and  were  allwayes  in  company 
+together,  as  the  bees  be  about  their  master  bee :  still  in  a 
+continuall  love  to  serve  their  countrie,  to  winne  honour,  and 
+
+"~  "       to  advaunce  the  common  weale.     Which  affection  of  theirs 
+
+is  playne  and  easely  seene  to  be  imprinted  in  them  by  certen 
+
+Paedaretus        of  their  aunswers,  as  in  that  which  Paedaretus  sayed  on  a 
+
+saying.  time,  being  left  out  of  the  election  of  the  number  of  the 
+
+three  hundred.  Who  departing  home  to  his  house  mery 
+and  jocond  as  might  be,  sayed  :  It  did  him  good  to  see  there 
+were  three  hundred  founde  better  in  the  cittie  than  him 
+selfe.  Pisistratidas  also  being  sent  ambassadour  with  certen 
+other  to  the  lieutenants  of  the  king  of  Persia,  the  Persian 
+lordes  asked  him,  if  they  came  of  their  owne  desire,  or 
+whether  they  were  sent  from  the  whole  state  :  If  we  obtaine, 
+sayed  he,  it  is  from  the  state  :  if  we  be  denied,  then  we  come 
+of  our  selves.  And  Argileonida  the  mother  of  Brasidas, 
+asked  some  that  went  to  visite  her  after  they  were  returned 
+home  to  Lacedaemon  from  their  jomey  to  Amphipolis,  if  her 
+Sonne  died  like  a  man,  and  a  worthy  Spartan.  And  they 
+straight  did  commend  him  highely,  saying :  There  was  not 
+left  in  all  Lacedaemon  suche  a  valliant  man.  She  replied 
+unto  them :  Saye  not  so,  my  friends,  I  praye  you :  for 
+Brasidas  was  in  dede  a  valliant  man,  but  the  country  of 
+Laconia  hath  many  moe  yet  vallianter  than  he  was.  Now 
+touching  their  Senate :  Lycurgus  was  the  first  that  erected 
+154 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+it  among  them.     The  first  that  were  thereof,  were  Lycurgus   T.YCURGUS 
+chief  ayders  and  assisters  of  that  erection,  as  we  have  de- 
+clared before  :  but  afterwards  he  ordeined,  that  when  any  The  manner 
+of  those  first  should  happen  to  dye,  they  should  choose  in  his  "^  choosing 
+place  the  most  honest  reported  man  in  the  cittie,  so  he  were  the  SenMe 
+three  score  yere  olde  and  above.    This  was  the  noblest  glorie        ^ 
+that  could  be  among  men,  when  a  man  bare  the  bell  and 
+prise,  not  that  he  was  swiftest  among  the  swift,  nor  strongest 
+amongest  the  strong,   but  that  he  among  the  honest  was 
+honestest.     He  had  the  reward  of  his  vertue,  as  for  libertie 
+to  speake,  soveraine   authoritie   to  governe,   and   princely 
+power  over  the  common  weale,  the  honour,  the  life,  and  the 
+goodes  of  the  whole  cittizens :  howbeit  the  election  was  made 
+after  this  sorte.     The  people  first  assembled  in  the  market 
+place,  where  there  were  some  appointed  and  shut  up  there- 
+about in  a  house,  from  whence  they  could  neither  see,  nor  be 
+scene  of  those  that  were  assembled,  but  onely  they  might 
+heare  the  noyse  which  they  made  there.     For  the  people  by 
+their  crye  and  showte,  did  declare  whom  they  did  choose, 
+and  whom  they  did  refuse  of  the  competitours,  as  they  used 
+to  shewe  their  liking  by  the  like  crye  in  other  things.     The 
+competitours  were  not  brought  in,  and  presented  all  to- 
+gether, but  one  after  another  in  order,  as  by  lot  did  fall  out. 
+He  on  whom  the  lot  fell,  passed  through  the  middest  of  the 
+assemblie  of  the  people,  and  sayed  never  a  worde.     The 
+people  straight  that  liked,  made  a  crye  or  showte  alowde. 
+The  men  appointed  which  were  locked  up,  had  bookes  or 
+tables  in  which  they  wrote  and  noted  the  greatnes  of  the 
+crye,  and  showte  the  people  made,  as  every  competitour 
+passed  by,  not  knowing   nor   seing  who   he  was.      These 
+hidden  men  did  onely  set  downe  in  their  bookes,  the  first, 
+the  second,  the  thirde,  and  so  many  more,  as  by  showtes 
+and    cryes    they   perceyved    dyd   passe    thus    through    the 
+assemblie.     They  noted  also  in  their  said  bookes,  which  of 
+these  had  the  greatest  crye  and  showte  of  people  at  their 
+passing  thorough :  and  him  they  came  and  declared  to  be  What  was 
+Senatour  chosen.     Then  he  wearing  a  garland  of  flowers  on  done  the 
+his  head,  went  to  all  the  temples  of  the  goddes  in  the  cittie  bein<^^hosen. 
+to  geve  thankes,  having  a  great  traine  of  young  men  follow-         * 
+
+155 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+LYCURGUS  ing,  and  praysing  of  his  vertues.  There  went  also  with  him 
+a  marvelous  company  of  women  singing  songes  of  his  prayse, 
+and  howe  blessed  he  was,  that  he  had  lived  so  vertuously. 
+Then  every  one  of  his  kinne  prepared  a  bancket  for  him  at 
+home  at  their  houses,  and  as  he  entred  the  house,  they  sayed 
+unto  him  :  The  cittie  honoreth  thee  with  this  bancket. 
+That  done,  he  repayred  afterwards  to  the  ordinarie  place 
+of  their  eating,  where  he  dyd  in  all  things  as  he  was  accus- 
+tomed, saving  he  was  served  nowe  at  his  table  with  a  double 
+allowaunce,  whereof  he  reserved  the  one.  After  supper,  all 
+his  kinsewomen  stoode  in  the  entrie  of  the  hall  where  they  had 
+eaten  :  so  he  called  her  whom  he  loved  best,  and  gave  her  his 
+allowaunce  he  had  saved,  and  sayed  to  her  :  This  was  geven 
+me  in  token  I  was  this  daye  rewarded  for  my  vertue  :  and  even 
+so  I  geve  it  thee  for  a  like  token  of  rewarde  for  thy  vertue. 
+Then  was  she  brought  home  by  all  the  women  there  to  her 
+house,  even  in  like  sorte  as  he  was  by  the  men.  Touching 
+burialles,  Lycurgus  made  a  wise  order  :  For  first  of  all,  to 
+cut  of  all  superstition  of  burying  places,  he  commaunded  they 
+The  manner  should  burie  their  dead  within  the  cittie,  and  that  their  graves 
+ofbunallwith  should  be  round  about  their  temples,  that  young  persones 
+monia^ns  *  might  have  them  allwayes  in  their  eyes,  and  not  be  affrayed 
+to  see  a  dead  bodye,  as  if  to  touche  a  corse,  or  to  passe  by 
+their  graves,  it  should  defile  a  man.  Then  did  he  forbid 
+them  to  burie  any  thing  with  the  corse,  and  willed  they 
+should  only  lappe  it  up  in  a  redde  clothe,  with  olive  leaves. 
+It  was  not  lawfull  to  grave  the  name  of  any  dead  bodye 
+upon  his  grave,  but  only  of  suche  a  man  as  died  in  the 
+warres,  or  of  some  holy  woman  professed  into  their  temples. 
+The  time  of  Furthermore,  the  time  appointed  to  mourne  in,  was  very 
+mourning.  shorte.  For  it  lasted  not  but  a  eleven  dayes,  and  on  the 
+twelft  daye,  they  must  doe  sacrifice  to  Proserpina,  and  so 
+leave  of  their  mourning.  To  conclude,  he  left  nothing  idle, 
+or  unworking  in  his  cittizens  :  for  to  all  necessarie  things 
+which  men  can  not  lacke,  Lycurgus  joyned  ever  a  certaine 
+emulation  of  men.  As  to  desire  vertue,  and  to  contemne 
+vice  :  and  furnished  his  cittie  with  many  good  preceptes  and 
+examples,  emong  which  his  cittizens  being  still  borne  and 
+bred  up,  and  having  the  same  in  every  place  before  their  eyes 
+156 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+where  they  went,  they  came  to  passe  in  time  to  be  framed    LYCURGUS 
+after  the  very  patterne  and  moulde  of  vertue  it  selfe.     For 
+this  cause  he  did  not  suffer  any  to  travell  out  of  the  countrie,  None  allowed 
+or  to  goe  abroad  as  he  would,  without  speciall  licence,  for  to  travell  into 
+fcare  least  those  which  travelled  abroad  for  their  pleasure,  trie^^without 
+should  bring  home  straunge  facions  and  manners,  and  a  cor-  licence, 
+rupt  disordered  life,  which  by  litle  and  litle  might  get  waye, 
+and  bring  an  alteration  and  chaunge  of  the  whole  state. 
+Furthermore,  he  kept  out  of  Sparta  all  straungers,  except  Nostraungers 
+those  which  had  necessarie  busines  there,  or  were  come  thither  suffered  to 
+for  some  profit  to  the  countrie:  not  that  he  was  affrayed  dwell  in 
+they  should  learne  some  thing  whereby  to  love  vertue,  or    ^^^^  ^' 
+that  they  should  desire  to  followe  his  facion  and  manner  of 
+government  as  Thucydides  was  :    but   rather  fearing  they 
+should  teache  his  cittizens  some  naughty  manners,  or  some 
+ill  favored  vice.     For  it  must  needes  be,  that  straungers 
+bring  ever  straunge   and  newe  devises  with  them  :    which 
+newe  devises   bring   with    them   also   newe   opinions :    and 
+newe  opinions  beget  newe  affections  and  mindes,  that  many 
+times  are  repugnant  to  the  lawe,  and  to  the  forme  of  the 
+common   weale  established  before,  as    discordes  doe   many 
+times  in  an  harmonic  of  musicke,  that  before  agreed  very 
+well  together.     Therefore  he  judged  it  a  thing  most  neces- 
+sarie, to  keepe  his  cittie  free  and  safe  from  counterfeating  of 
+any  straungers  manners  or  facions,  that  were  commonly  as 
+persones  infected  with  some  contagious   sicknes.     Nowe  in 
+all  we  have  spoken  before,  even  to  this  place,  there  is  no 
+manner  of  token  or  shewe  of  injustice,  or  lacke  of  equitie, 
+wherewith  some  seme  to  burden  Lycurgus  in  his  lawes :  by  say- 
+ing they  were  well  made,  to  make  men  warlicke  and  valliant, 
+but  not  to  be  juste  or  righteous.     But  concerning  the  lawe  Cryptia  with 
+they  call  Cryptia^  as  much  to  saye,  as  their  secret :  if  it  were  of  the  Lacedse- 
+Lycurgus   institution,  as   Aristotle   sayeth,  it   might   have  "tomans, 
+caried  Plato  into  the  like  opinion  that  Lycurgus  had  of  his 
+common  weale.     This  was  the  lawe :  The  governours  which 
+had  the  charge  and  oversight  of  the  young  men,  at  certaine 
+appointed  times,  dyd  chuse  out  those  they  thought  to  have 
+the  best  discretion,  and  sent  them  abroade  into  the  countrie, 
+some  one  waye,  some  another  waye,  who  caried  with  them 
+
+157 
+
+
+The  cruelty 
+of  the  Lace- 
+daemonians 
+against  the 
+liotes. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+LYCURGUS  daggers,  and  some  provision  to  feede  them.  These  young 
+men  being  thus  dispersed  abroade  in  the  countrie,  did  hide 
+them  selves  all  the  daye  close  in  secret  places,  and  there 
+they  laye  and  tooke  their  rest :  afterwardes  when  night  was 
+come,  they  went  to  seeke  out  the  high  wayes,  and  killed  the 
+first  of  the  Ilotes  that  they  met.  Sometimes  even  in  the 
+broade  daye,  they  went  into  the  countrie  to  kill  the  strongest 
+and  stowtest  of  them  :  as  Thucydides  telleth  in  his  history  of 
+the  warres  of  Peloponnesus,  where  he  sayeth.  That  a  cer- 
+taine  convenient  number  of  the  Ilotes  were  crowned,  by  a 
+publicke  proclamation  of  the  Spartans :  and  being  infran- 
+chesed,  for  their  good  services  they  had  done  the  common 
+weale,  they  were  caried  to  all  the  temples  of  the  goddes  for 
+an  honour.  Within  a  while  after,  no  man  knewe  what  was 
+become  of  them,  being  about  two  thousand  in  number :  so 
+that  never  man  heard  tell  neither  then  nor  since,  howe  they 
+came  to  their  deathes.  Howbeit  Aristotle  above  all  others 
+sayeth,  that  the  Ephores,  so  soone  as  they  were  placed  in 
+their  offices,  made  warres  with  the  Ilotes,  bicause  they  might 
+lawfully  kill  them.  And  it  is  true,  that  in  other  things 
+they  did  handle  them  very  hardely.  For  they  forced  them 
+somtimes  to  drincke  wine  without  water  out  of  measure,  till 
+they  had  made  them  starke  drunke.  Then  they  brought 
+them  all  into  their  common  halles  where  they  did  eate,  to 
+make  their  children  to  beholde  them,  and  to  see  what  beast- 
+lines  it  was  for  a  man  to  be  drunke.  Likewise  they  made 
+them  singe  songes,  and  daunce  daunces,  unfit  for  honest  men, 
+and  suche  as  were  full  of  derision  and  mockerie,  and  did 
+forbid  them  expressely  to  singe  any  honest  songes.  So  it  is 
+reported,  that  in  the  jorney  the  Thebans  made  to  Laconia, 
+many  of  the  Ilotes  were  taken  prisoners  thereat,  and  when 
+they  were  commaunded  to  singe  the  verses  of  Terpander,  or 
+of  Alcman,  or  of  Spendon  the  Laconian,  they  would  not  doe 
+it :  saying,  they  durst  not  singe  them  for  their  masters. 
+Wherefore  he  that  first  sayed  in  the  countrie  of  Lacedae- 
+monia,  he  that  is  free  is  more  free,  and  he  that  is  bonde,  is 
+more  bonde  then  in  other  places :  knewe  very  well  the  diver- 
+sitie  betweene  the  libertie  and  bondage  there,  and  the  libertie 
+and  bondage  of  other  countries.  But  in  my  opinion,  the 
+158 
+
+
+Diodorus 
+lib.  2. 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+Lacedaemonians  beganne  to  use  these  great  outrages  and  LYCURGUS 
+cruelties,  long  time  after  the  death  of  Lycurgus,  and  specially 
+since  the  great  earthquake  that  happened  at  Sparta,  at  which 
+cime  the  Ilotes  rose  against  them  with  the  Messenians,  and 
+did  great  mischief  through  the  countrie,  and  put  the  cittie 
+to  the  greatest  distresse  and  daunger  that  ever  it  had.  For  I 
+cannot  be  persuaded,  that  ever  Lycurgus  invented,  or  insti- 
+tuted, so  wicked  and  mischievous  an  acte,  as  that  kynde  of 
+ordinaunce  was  :  bicause  I  imagine  his  nature  was  gentle  and 
+mercif ull,  by  the  clemencie  and  j  ustice  wee  see  he  used  in  all 
+his  other  doings,  and  was  witnessed  besides  by  open  oracle 
+from  the  goddes,  for  a  just  and  wise  man.  Furthermore, 
+they  saye  of  him,  that  when  he  sawe  the  chiefest  pointes  of 
+his  government  had  taken  deepe  roote,  and  that  the  forme 
+of  his  common  weale  went  on,  and  was  strong  enough  to 
+mainteine  and  keepe  it  selfe  a  foote,  like  as  Plato  sayeth, 
+that  God  rejoyced  greately  after  he  had  made  the  worlde,  Plato  in 
+and  sawe  the  same  turne  and  move  his  first  moving :  even  so  Timao. 
+Lycurgus  taking  singular  pleasure  and  delight  in  his  minde, 
+to  see  his  notable  lawes  put  in  use,  and  so  well  stablished 
+and  liked  of  by  experience,  sought  yet  to  make  them  immor- 
+tall,  as  neere  as  he  could  possible,  by  any  forecast  of  man, 
+that  no  after  time  whatsoever,  might  chaunge  or  put  them 
+downe.  To  bring  this  to  passe,  he  caused  all  the  people  to 
+assemble,  and  tolde  them  ne  thought  his  civill  pollicie  and 
+state  of  common  weale  was  already  sufficiently  established, 
+for  vertuous  and  happy  life :  yet  there  was  one  matter 
+behinde  of  greater  importance  than  all  the  rest,  which  he 
+could  not  yet  declare  unto  them,  untill  he  had  first  asked 
+counsell  of  the  oracle  of  Apollo,  And  therefore  in  the 
+meane  time  they  should  keepe  and  observe  his  lawes  and 
+ordinaunces  inviolablie,  without  chaunging,  remo\'ing,  or 
+staying  any  matter  therein,  untill  he  were  returned  from  the 
+cittie  of  Delphes,  and  then  they  should  doe  that  other  thing 
+behinde,  if  the  God  then  so  counselled  him.  They  all  Lycurgus 
+promised  him  to  doe  it,  and  prayed  him  to  make  hast  to  goe  wonderfull 
+on  his  iomey.  But  before  he  departed,  he  made  the  Kings  *^fH^v  u-  ^" 
+and  Senatours  sweare  first,  and  consequently  all  the  people  jjjg  lawes. 
+after,  that    they   would    keepe   his   lawes    and    ordinaunces 
+
+159 
+
+
+LYCURGUS 
+
+
+Lycurgus 
+death. 
+
+
+Sparta 
+florished  five 
+hundi-ed 
+yeres. 
+
+Lycurgus 
+lawes  were 
+broken  in 
+king  Agis 
+time,  by 
+Lysanders 
+meanes. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+without   chaunging  or   altering   any  thing,   untill   he   did 
+returne  againe.     This  done,  he  went  to  the  cittie  of  Delphes, 
+where  so  sone  as  he  arrived,  he  sacrificed  in  the  temple  to 
+Apollo,  and  asked  him  :  If  the  lawes  he  had  made  were  good 
+to  make  a  man  an  happy  life.     Apollo  made  him  aunswer, 
+his  lawes  were  very  good,  and  that  his  cittie  keping  them, 
+should  be  the  most    renowmed  of  the  worlde.      Lycurgus 
+caused  this  oracle  to  be  written,  which  he  sent  to  Sparta. 
+After  he  sacrificed  to  Apollo  againe  :  and  then  taking  leave 
+of  his  friendes,  and  of  his  sonne,  he  determined  to  dye,  bicause 
+his  cittizens  should  never  be  released  of  the  othe  they  had 
+made  betweene  his  handes.     When  he  had  this  determina- 
+tion, he  was  come  to  the  age,  wherein  a  man  hathe  strength 
+enough  to  live  lenger  :  and  yet  was  olde  enough  also  to  dye 
+if  he  would.     Wherefore  finding  him  selfe  happy  to  have 
+obteined  his  desire,  he  willingly  pyned  him  selfe  to  death, 
+by  abstinence,   and    lacke  of  meate.      For   he   thought  it 
+meete,  that  the  very  death  of  great  personages  should  bring 
+benefit  ever  to. the  common  weale,  and  that  the  ende  of  their 
+life  should  be  no  more  idle,  or  unprofitable,  then  the  rest  of 
+their  life  before :  nay  rather,  that  it  was  one  of  their  most 
+meritorious  actes,  to  have  their  death  extolled  for  worthines. 
+So  he  imagined,  that  his  death  would  be  the  perfection  and 
+crowne  of  his  felicitie,  after  he  had  made  and  ordeined  so 
+many  good  and  notable  lawes,  for  the  honour  and  benefit  of 
+his  countrie  :  and  should  be  as  k  scale  of  confirmation  of  his 
+lawe,  and  the  continuall  preservitour  of  his  cittie,  consider- 
+ing all  his  cittizens  had  sworne  to  keepe  them  all  inviolably, 
+untill  he  were  returned.     He  was  not  deceaved  of  his  hope, 
+for  his  cittie  was  the  chiefest  of  the  worlde,  in  glorie  and 
+honour  of  government,  by  the  space  of  five  hundredyeres. 
+For  so  long  his  cittie  kept  his  lawes~^4thotrtrany  chaunge  or 
+alteration  by  any  of  the  Kings  successours,  untill  king  Agis, 
+the  Sonne  of  Archidamus  beganne  to  reigne.     For  the  crea- 
+tion of  the  Ephores,  did  not  breake,  nor  discontinewe  any  of 
+the  lawes  of  Lycurgus,  but  reduced  them  rather  to  a  more 
+straight  and  strickt  order :  although  it  seemed  at  the  first 
+that  the  Ephores  were  ordeined,  for  the  maintenaunce  and 
+defence  of  the  libertie  of  the  people,  whereas  in  deede  they 
+160 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+did  also  strengthen  the  authoritie  of  the  Kings  and  Senate.    LYCURGUS 
+Nowe  in  the  raigne  of  king  Agis,  gold  and  silver  beganne  Money  cor- 
+first  to  creepe  in  againe  to  the  cittie  of  Sparta,  by  meanes  of  rupteth  Ly- 
+Lysander.     With  money  there  came  in  straight  covetousnes,  curgus  lawes. 
+and  gredines  to  get  and  gather.     And  although  Lysander  See  more  in 
+was  not  desirous  to  get  it,  nor  would  be  corrupted  for  any  Lysaudeis 
+money :    yet  he  brought  riches  and   covetousnes   into    the  "*^' 
+countrie,  and  filled  the  same  with  all  finenes,  by  bringing  in  Lysander 
+great  store  of  golde  and  silver  from  the  warres,   directly  brought  in 
+against  the  lawes  and  ordinaunces  of  Lycurffus.     The  which  f^^    |  ^&^"^^ 
+so  long  as  they  were  in  force  and  use,  it  appered  that  the 
+government  of  Sparta  seemed  not  to  be  a  pollicy  or  common 
+weale,  but  rather  a  certaine  holy  place  and  order  of  religion. 
+And  even  as  the  Poets  fayne,  that  Hercules  went  through 
+the  world  with  his  clubbe,  and  lyons  skynne,  punishing  cruell 
+robbers  and  unnaturall  tyrannes  :  so  in  like  case  with  a  litle 
+scrowe  of  parchement,  and  a  poore  cape,  did  the  Spartans 
+commaund  and  geve  lawes,  to  all  the  rest  of  Grece,  even 
+with  their  good  liking  and  consent.     And  they  chased  the 
+tyrannes  awaye,  which  usurped  tyrannicall  power  over  any 
+of  their  citties,  and  did  decide  all  controversies,  and  often- 
+times   pacified    their   seditions,    without    sending   out   one 
+souldier,  but  only  a  simple  poore  ambassadour.     At  whose 
+commaundement,  the  people  presently  assembled    like    the 
+bees,  which  gather  together  about  their  King,  so  soone  as 
+they  spye  him  :  they  did  then  so  greatly  reverence  the  good 
+government  and  justice  of  the  Spartans.     Therefore  I  can 
+but  wonder  much  at  those  which  saye,  the  cittie  of  Lace- 
+daemon  could  obey  well,  but  not  commaunde  :  and  for  proofe 
+they  alleage  wordes  of  king  Theopompus,  who  aunswered 
+one  which  sayd,  that  Sparta  was  mainteined,  bicause  the 
+Kings   could    commaund  well :    Naye  the  rather  (sayd  he)  Theopompus 
+bicause  the  cittizens   can    obey  well.     For  men  commonly  wordes  of 
+disdaine  to  obey  those,  which  are  not  wise  in  commaunding.  obeying  and 
+So  that  the  faithfuU  obedience  of  the  subjectes,  dependeth  ■ 
+much  upon  the  sufficient  commaundement  of  the  wise  prince,  r^  \ 
+For  he  that  directeth  well,  must  needes  be  well  obeyed.    For  j^^g^^.  breed- 
+like as  the  arte  of  a  good  rider,  is  to  make  his  horse  gentle,  eth  due 
+and  ready  at  commaundement :   even  so  the  chicfest  pointe  obedience. 
+X  161 
+
+
+LYCURGUS 
+
+
+Antisthenes, 
+Socrates 
+schollers 
+wordes. 
+
+
+The  founda- 
+tion of  a  com- 
+mon weale. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+belonging  to  a  prince,  is  to  teach  his  subjects  to  obey. 
+Wherefore  the  Lacedaemonians  procured,  that  not  onely 
+other  people  did  willingly  obey  them,  but  also  desired  to  be 
+ruled,  and  commaunded  by  them.  For  they  asked  them, 
+neither  shippes  nor  money,  nor  yet  did  send  them  any 
+number  of  men  of  warre  to  compell  them,  but  onely  they 
+sent  one  cittizen  of  Sparta  to  governe  them,  to  whom  all  the 
+other  people  submitted  them  selves,  and  were  holpen  by  him 
+in  their  necessitie,  as  fearing  and  reverencing  him.  In  this 
+wise  the  Sicilians  were  holpen  by  Gysippus,  the  Chalcidians 
+by  Brasidas,  and  all  the  Grecians  inhabiting  Asia,  by  Ly- 
+sander,  Callicratidas,  and  by  Agesilaus,  who  were  called  the 
+reformers  and  directors  of  princes,  peoples,  and  Kings,  unto 
+whom  they  were  sent  here  and  there :  but  ever  they  had 
+their  eye  upon  the  cittie  of  Sparta,  as  upon  the  most  perfect 
+patterne  to  order  mans  life  by,  and  to  governe  a  common 
+weale  after.  To  this  effect  tended  the  mery  worde  spoken 
+in  jest  by  Stratonicus :  Who  said  he  did  order  the  Athe- 
+nians to  tend  their  sacrifices,  and  the  Elians  to  tende  their 
+games :  and  if  they  made  any  faulte  therein,  the  Lacedae- 
+monians should  be  well  whipped.  That  was  merely  spoken, 
+and  in  a  jesting  manner.  But  Antisthenes  (the  philosopher 
+and  one  of  Socrates  scholers)  seeing  the  Thebans  growen 
+very  hawtie  and  glorious,  after  that  they  had  conquered  the 
+Lacedaemonians  in  the  jorney  of  Leuctres  :  Me  thinketh 
+sayed  he,  these  Thebans  here  doe  like  the  schoole  boyes, 
+which  bragge  and  rejoyce  when  they  have  a  litle  beaten 
+their  master.  But  this  was  not  Lycurgus  meaning,  to  have 
+his  cittie  to  commaunde  many.  But  he  thought  the  felicitie 
+of  a  cittie,  as  of  a  private  man,  consisted  chiefly  in  the 
+exercise  of  vertue,  and  in  the  unitie  of  the  inhabitants 
+thereof.  He  framed  his  common  wealth  to  this  ende,  that 
+his  cittizens  should  be  nobly  minded,  content  with  their 
+owne,  and  temperate  in  their  doings,  that  thereby  they 
+might  mainteine  and  keepe  themselves  long  in  safetie.  The 
+self  same  intention  had  Plato,  Diogenes,  and  Zenon,  in 
+setting  forth  their  bookes,  which  they  wrote  of  the  govern- 
+ment of  common  weales :  and  so  had  likewise  many  other 
+great  and  learned  men  which  have  ^vritten  of  the  same 
+162 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+matter.     Howbeit  they  only  left  behinde  them,  wordes,  and   LYCURGUS 
+written  bookes :  but  Lycurgus  contrariwise,  left  no  written 
+bookes  nor  pamplets,  but  stablished  and  left  behinde  him,  a 
+royall  forme  of  government,  which  no  man  ever  before  had 
+invented,  nor  never  after  could  be  followed.     He  hath  made 
+them  plainely  see,  a  whole  cittie  live  together,  and  governe 
+it  selfe  philosophically,  according  to  the  true  rules  and  pre- 
+ceptes  of  perfect  wisdome :  which  imagined,  that  true  wise- 
+dome  was  a  thing  hanging  in  the  ayer,  and  could  not  visiblie 
+be  scene  in  the  worlde.     Whereby  he  hath  worthily  excelled 
+in  glorie  all  those,  which  ever  tooke  upon  them  to  write  or 
+stablishe  the  government  of  a  common  weale.     And  there- 
+fore sayeth  Aristotle,  that  after  his  death  they  did  him  lesse 
+honour  in  Lacedaemonia,  then  he  had  deserved :  albeit  they 
+did  him  all  the  honour  they  possibly  could  devise.     And  yet 
+they  buylt  a  temple  for  him,  and  made  solemne  sacrifice  to 
+him  every  yere,  as  unto  a  god.     More,  they  saye,  that  when  Divine 
+the  ashes  of  his  bodie  were  brought  to  Sparta,  there  fell  honours  to 
+straight  lightning  upon  his  tumbe  where  they  were  put :    Z^'^^g*^ 
+which  they  had  not  often  scene  to  happen,  to  other  men  of  <jeath. 
+name  after  their  decease,  saving  only  to  the  poet  Euripides, 
+who  dying  in  Macedonia,  was  buried   neere  the  cittie  of 
+Arethusa.     The  which  is  some  manifest  argument,  for  suche 
+as  love  the  Poet,  to  laye  against  those  which   somewhat 
+deprave  him,  seing  this  signe  came  to  him  after  his  death, 
+which  had  happened  before  to  a  most  well  beloved  man  of 
+the   goddes.      Some   saye  Lycurgus  died   in   the   cittie  of 
+Cirrha.    But  Apollothemis  sayeth,  he  died  in  Elida.    Timaeus 
+and  Aristoxenus  write,  he  ended  his  dayes  in  Creta.     And 
+Aristoxenus  sayeth  further,  that  those  of  the  He  of  Creta 
+doe  shewe  his  grave  in  the  place  which  they  call  Pergamia, 
+by  the  broade  highe  wayes.     He  left  one  onely  begotten 
+Sonne  named  Antiorus,  who  died  without  issue,  so  that  his  Antiorus 
+house  and  name  fay  led  with  him.     But  his  neere  kinsemen  Lycurgus 
+and  famillier  friendes,  did  set  up  a  company  or  brotherhood  sonne. 
+in  memorie  of  him,  which  continued  a  long  time :  and  the 
+dayes  wherein  they  assembled,  were  called  the  Lycurgides. 
+There  is  another  Aristocrates  (the  sonne  of  Hipparchus)  who 
+sayeth,  that  he  being  dead  in  Creta,  his  friendes  burned  his 
+
+163 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+LYCURGUS  bodie,  and  aftervvardes  threwe  his  ashes  into  the  sea,  accord- 
+ing as  he  had  prayed  and  requested  them.     For  he  feared, 
+that   if  any  parte  of  him  should   at  any  time  have  bene 
+brought  to  Sparta,  the  inhabitans  would  have  sayed  he  was 
+returned  againe,  and  thereby  would  have  thought  them  selves 
+discharged   of  their   othe,    and    might   have    lawfully 
+altered  the  lawes  which  he  had  appointed.     And 
+this  is  the  discourse  and  ende  of  Lycurgus  life. 
+
+THE  ENDE  OF  LYCURGUS  LIFE 
+
+
+THE  LIFE  OF  NUMA  POMPILIUS 
+
+
+In  what  time 
+Numa  was. 
+Cicerode  Or.  2 
+and  Tuscul.  4, 
+Liv.  Halic. 
+lib.  2. 
+
+
+Whether 
+Pythagoras 
+had  any  con- 
+versation with 
+Numa. 
+
+
+HE  Historiographers  differ  marvelously  of 
+the  time,  in  which  Numa  Pompilius 
+raigned  King,  albeit  some  will  derive  from 
+him  many  noble  houses  descended  in  Rome. 
+For  one  Clodius,  who  wrote  the  booke  inti- 
+tuled the  table  of  time,  affirmeth  that  the 
+auncient  registers  of  the  cittie  of  Rome 
+were  lost  when  it  was  taken  and  sacked  by 
+the  Gaules :  and  that  those  which  are  extant  at  this  daye 
+be  not  true,  but  were  only  made  by  men  desirous  to  gratifie 
+some,  which  have  thrust  in  auncient  houses  and  families  of 
+the  first  Romaines,  that  concerne  nothing  them  whom  they 
+ment  to  represent.  On  the  other  side,  although  the  common 
+opinion  be,  that  Numa  was  a  familier  friend  and  schoUer  of 
+Pythagoras  the  philosopher,  yet  some  saye  he  was  never 
+learned,  nor  had  any  knowledge  at  all  in  the  Greeke  tongue. 
+And  yet  mainteining  that  it  is  possible  enovigh,  that  he  was 
+so  well  borne,  and  had  suche  perfection  in  all  kind  of  vertue, 
+that  he  never  neded  any  master :  and  though  he  had  neded, 
+they  had  rather  attribute  the  honour  of  the  instructing  of 
+this  King  unto  some  other  foreane  person,  that  was  more 
+excellent  then  Pythagoras.  Other  saye,  that  Pythagoras 
+the  philosopher  was  long  time  after  the  raigne  of  Numa,  and 
+well  nighe  five  ages  after  him.  Howbeit  other  saye,  there 
+164 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+was  another  Pythagoras  borne  in  Sparta  (who  having  wonne       NUMA 
+the  pryse  of  running  at  the  games  Olympicall,  in  the  six-  POMPILIUS 
+tenth  Olympiade,  and  the  third  yere  of  Numaes  raigne)  did  Pji^hagoras 
+come  into  Italie,  where  he  kept  much  about  Numa,  and  did  *^|  seconde, 
+assist  and  helpe  him  in  the  governing  and  ordering  of  his  ^orne^  taueht 
+Realme.     By  meanes  whereof  there  be  many  customes  yet  of  Numa,  at 
+the  Laconians,  mingled  with  the  Romaines,  which  this  second  Rome, 
+Pythagoras  was  sayed  to  have  taught  him.     Nevertheles  it  is 
+not  confessed  that  Numa  was  borne  of  the  Sabynes,  which 
+they  saye  are  descended  from  the  Lacedaemonians.     So  it 
+falleth  out  very  hard  to  agree  certainly  of  the  time  when 
+Numa  was,  and  chiefly  for  suche  as  will  foUowe  the  rolle  or 
+table  of  those,  which  from  Olympiades  to  Olympiades  have 
+wonne   the   pryses  of  games  Olympicall :    considering   tlie 
+rolle  or  table  that  they  have  at  this  present,  was  very  lately 
+published  by  one  Hippias  an  Elian,  who  delivereth  no  reason 
+or  argument  of  necessitie,  why  it  should  be  taken  for  an 
+undoubted   trothe,  which  he  in  that  sorte  hath  gathered. 
+Yet  we  will  not  leave  to  put  in  writing  those  things  worthie 
+of  memorie,  which  we  could  gather  by  any  meanes  of  king 
+Numa,  beginning  at  that  place  which  we  thought  to  be 
+meetest.     It  was  no  we  sithence  Rome  was  buy  It,  seven  and 
+thirtie    yeres   (for   so   long   time   raigned    Romulus)   when 
+Romulus  the  fifte  of  the  moneth  of  luly  (which  they  call  The  death  of 
+the  Nones  of  the  goates)  made  a  solemne  sacrifice  without  Romulus, 
+the  cittie,  neere  to  a  certaine  place  commonly  called,  the 
+goate  marshe.     As  all  the  whole  Senate,   with    the   most 
+parte  of  the  people  were  present  at  this  sacrifice,  sodainely 
+there  rose  in  the  ayer  a  very  great  tempest,  and  a  marvelous 
+darcke  thicke  clowde,  which  fell  on  the  earthe  with  suche 
+boysterous  windes,  stormes,  lightnings,  and  thunder:   that 
+the  poore  common  people  being  affrayed  of  so  sore  a  tempest, 
+dispersed  them  selves  sodainely,  running  here  and  there  for 
+succour,  and  therewithall  king  Romulus  vanished  awaye  in 
+suche  sorte,  that  he  was  never  after  scene  alive  nor  dead. 
+This  brought  the   Senatours,  and  noble  men   whom  they 
+called  Patricians,  into  great  suspition.     And  there  ranne  a 
+fowle  tale  among  the  common  people,  howe  thev  had  a  long 
+time  borne  very  impaciently  to  be  subjects  to  a  King,  bicause 
+
+1G5 
+
+
+NUMA 
+POMPILIUS 
+
+
+In  the  life  of 
+Romulus  he 
+is  named  Pro- 
+culus,  f. 
+
+Dissention  at 
+Rome  about 
+choosing  of 
+their  King. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+them  selves  would  have  had  and  taken  upon  them  some 
+soveraine  authoritie,  and  that  for  this  cause  they  had  killed 
+king  Romulus.     Adding  somewhat  more  unto  it,  howe  a 
+litle  before  he  had  used  them  more  roughely,  and  commaunded 
+them   more   straightly  then   he  was  wont  or  accustomed. 
+Nevertheles  they  found   the   meanes  to  quenche  all  these 
+bruites  and  murmurings,  by  doing  divine  honour  and  sacri- 
+fice unto  him,  as  one  not  dead,  but  passed  to  a  better  life. 
+To  confirme  this,  one  of  the  noblest  men  among  them  called 
+Proclus  came  in,  and  by  othe  affirmed  before  all  the  people, 
+that  he  sawe  Romulus  ascending  up  into  heaven,  armed  at 
+all  peces,  and  that  he  heard  a  voyce  saye  :  From  henceforth 
+call  him  Quirinus.     This  being  thus  appeased,  there  sprange 
+up  another  trouble,  to  knowe  whom  they  should  choose  in 
+his  place.     For  the  straungers  which  were  come  then  from 
+other  places  to  dwell  in  Rome,  were  not  yet  throughly  joyned 
+to  the  naturall  borne  Romaines  :  in  so  muche,  as  the  common 
+people  dyd  not  only  waver,  and  stagger  up  and  down  in 
+opinion,  but  the  Senatours  also  (that  were  many  and  of  divers 
+nations)  did  enter  into  a  suspition  one  of  another.     These 
+things  notwithstanding  they  all  agreed  in  this,  that  of  neces- 
+sitie  they  must  choose  a  King :   howbeit  in  the  rest  they 
+differed  much,  not  only  whom  they  should  choose,  but  also 
+of  what  nation  he  should  be.    For  those  which  were  the  first 
+founders  and  buylders  of  the  cittie  of  Rome  with  Romulus, 
+could  in  no  wise  abide,  nor  suffer,  that  the  Sabynes  (to 
+whom  they  had  divided  parte  of  their  landes,  and  a  moytie 
+of  their  cittie)  should  attempt  and  presume  to  commaund 
+them,  whom  they  dyd  receyve  and  associate  into  their  com- 
+pany and  felowshippe.    The  Sabynes  alledged  on  thother  side 
+for  them,  a  good  reason,  and  such  as  caried  great  proba- 
+bilitie.      Which  was,  that  never  sence  the  death  of  their 
+king  Tatius,  they  neither  had  in  any  thing  disobeyed  nor 
+disquieted  king  Romulus,  but  had  suffered  him  to  raigne 
+peaceably :    and  therefore  Romulus   being   nowe   deceased, 
+reason  would  that  the  newe  King  should  be  chosen  of  their 
+nation.     And  that  albeit  the  Romaines  had  receyved  them 
+into  their  cittie,  they  could  not  say  therefore,  that  in  time 
+of  this  association,  they  were  lesse  to  be  reckoned  of  in  any 
+166 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+thing,  than  them  selves.     Further  they  added,  that  in  joyn-        NUMA 
+ing  with  them,  the  Romaines  had  doubly  increased  their  POMPILIUS 
+might  and  power,  and  had  made  a  bodie  of  a  people,  which 
+deserved  the  honour  and  title  of  a  cittie.     These  were  the 
+causes  of  their  contention.     But  to  prevent  that  of  this  con- 
+tention there  might  growe  no  confusion  in  the  cittie,  if  it 
+should  remaine  without  an  head  to  commaund :  the  Sena- 
+tours  which  were   a   hundred  and   fiftie   in  number,  gave  Livie  sayeth 
+counsell  that  every  one  of  them  by  turnes,  one  after  another,  but  a  hun- 
+should  carie  the  royall  state  of  the  King,  and  all  the  showes  *^^®*^- 
+and  ornaments  of  his  majestic,  and  should  doe  the  ordinarie  Dionysius 
+sacrifices  of  the  King,  and  dispatche  all  causes  sixe  howers  in 
+the  daye,  and  sixe  howers  in  the  night,  as  the  King  before  ^^"^,^5"  "I 
+had  used.     Thus  they  thought  it  best  to  devide  the  rule,  jjomuhis 
+that  one  might  have  asmuch  power  as  the  other,  aswell  in  affreeth  with 
+respect  of  them  selves,  as  also  for  regarde  of  the  people.  Dionysius. 
+For  they  imagined,  that  the  chaunging  and  removing  thus 
+of  this  regall  dignitie,  and  passing  it  from  man  to  man, 
+would  clene  take  awaye  envie  among  them,  and  make  every  of 
+them  to  rule  temperately,  and  uprightly  see,  that  in  one, 
+and  the  selfe  same  daye  and  night,  every  of  them  should  be 
+a  King  and  private  persone  also.     The  Romaines  call  this 
+manner  of  regiment  in  vacation,  Interregnum  :  as  you  would  interregnum. 
+saye,  rule  for  the  time.     Nowe  albeit  their  government  was 
+very  modest  and  civill,  yet  they  could  not  for  all  that  keepe 
+them  selves  from  falling  into  the  suspition,  and  slaunder  of 
+the  people :  who  gave  it  out  straight,  that  this  was  a  fine 
+devise  of  theirs,  to  chaunge  by  this  meanes  the  rule  of  the 
+Realme  into  a  fewe  noble  mens  handes,  to  the  ende  that  the 
+whole  authoritie  and  government  of  all   publicke   causes, 
+should  remaine  still  in  them  selves,  bicause  it  grieved  them 
+to  be  subject  to  a  King.     And  in  the  ende,  the  two  partes 
+of  the  cittie  came  to  this  agreement :  that  the  one  parte 
+should  choose  one  of  the  bodie  of  the  other,  to  be  the  King. 
+This  course  they  liked  very  well,  aswell  for  the  pacification 
+of  present  sturre  and  dissention  amongest  them  selves,  as  for 
+procuring  equalitie  of  affection,  and  sturring  up  a  likenes  of 
+goodwill  in  the  King  that  thus  indifferently  should  be  chosen  : 
+whereby  he  should  love  the  one  parte  for  that  they  had 
+
+167 
+
+
+NUMA 
+POMPILIUS 
+
+
+Numa  chosen 
+
+
+King. 
+
+
+Numa  borne 
+in  the  cittie 
+of  Cures. 
+
+Quirites  why 
+so  called. 
+
+
+The  life  and 
+manners  of 
+Numa  before 
+his  raigne. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+chosen  him,  and  likewise  the  other  parte  for  that  he  was  of 
+their  nation.  The  Sabynes  were  the  first,  which  referred 
+the  election  to  the  Romaines  choyse :  and  the  Romaines 
+thought  it  better  to  chuse  one  of  the  nation  of  the  Sabynes, 
+then  to  have  a  Romaine  chosen  by  the  Sabynes.  After  they 
+had  consulted,  they  determined  amongest  them  selves :  and 
+did  choose  Numa  Pompilius  one  of  the  bodye  of  the  Sabynes 
+to  be  King,  who  was  none  of  the  number  of  them  which 
+came  to  dwell  at  Rome,  howbeit  he  was  a  man  so  famous  for 
+his  vertue,  that  the  Sabynes  so  soone  as  they  named  him, 
+did  receyve  him  more  willingly,  then  they  who  had  chosen 
+him.  After  they  had  thus  published  their  election,  the  first 
+and  chiefest  persones  of  the  one  and  the  other  side,  were 
+chosen  out  to  goe  unto  him.  Now  Numa  Pompilius  was 
+borne  in  one  of  the  chiefest  and  best  citties  which  the 
+Sabynes  had,  called  Cures,  whereupon  the  Romaines,  and 
+their  fellowes  the  Sabynes,  were  called  afterwardes  Quirites, 
+and  he  was  the  sonne  of  Pomponius  a  noble  man,  the 
+youngest  of  foure  brethern  :  being  by  the  secret  worcking  of 
+the  goddes,  borne  on  the  very  daye,on  the  which  Rome  was  first 
+founded  by  Romulus,  which  was  the  one  and  twenty  daye  of 
+Aprill.  This  man  being  naturally  geven  and  inclined  unto 
+all  vertue,  did  yet  increase  the  same,  by  studie,  and  all  kynde 
+of  good  discipline :  and  by  the  exercise  thereof,  and  of  true 
+pacience,  and  right  philosophic,  he  did  marvelously  adorne 
+him  selfe  and  his  manners.  For  he  did  not  only  clere  his 
+soule,  and  minde,  of  all  passions  and  vices  commonly  used  in 
+the  worlde :  but  he  conquered  in  him  selfe  all  heates,  vio- 
+lence, and  covetousnes.  And  would  neither  seeke  nor  usurpe, 
+that  which  was  an  other  mans,  a  thing  at  that  time  honoured 
+among  the  most  barbarous  people :  but  thought  that  to  be 
+the  true,  and  right  victorie  in  man,  first  to  conquer  and 
+commaund  him  selfe  by  judgement  and  reason,  and  then  to 
+subdue  all  covetousnes  and  greedines.  Having  therfore  this 
+opinion,  he  would  in  no  wise  have  in  his  house  any  super- 
+fluity or  finenes.  He  became  to  every  man  that  would 
+employe  him  (aswell  straunger  as  his  owne  countrie  man)  a 
+wise  counsaillour,  and  an  upright  judge.  He  bestowed  his 
+leysure,  not  to  followe  his  owne  delight,  or  to  gather  goods 
+168 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+together :    but  to  serve   the  goddes,  and   to  behold   their       NUMA 
+celestiall  nature  and  power,  as  much  as  mans  reason  and   POMPILIUS 
+understanding  could  comprehend.    Thereby  he  got  so  great  a 
+name  and  reputation,  that  Tatius  (which  was  king  of  Rome 
+with  Romulus)  having  but  one  onely  daughter  called  Tatia,  Tatia  the 
+made  him  his  sonne  in  lawe.    Howbeit  this  mariage  put  him  wifeof  Numa. 
+in  no  such  jolity,  that  he  would  dwel  at  Rome  with  his  father 
+in  lawe,  but  rather  kept  at  home  at  his  own  house  in  the 
+countrie  of  the  Sabynes,  there  to  serve  and  cherishe  his  olde 
+father  with  his  wife  Tatia  :  who  for  her  parte  also  liked  better, 
+to  live  quietly  with  her  husband  being  a  private  man,  then  to 
+goe  to  Rome  where  she  might  have  lived  in  much  honour 
+and  glorie,  by  meanes  of  the  King  her  father.     She  died  as 
+it  is  reported,  13  yeres  after  she  was  maried.     After  her 
+deathe,  Numa  leaving  to  dwell  in  the  cittie,  was  better 
+contented  to  live  in  the  country  alone,  and  solitarie,  and  gave 
+him  self  to  walke  much  in  the  fields  and  woddes  consecrated 
+to  the  godds,  as  one  desirous  to  leade  alone  life,  farre  from  the 
+companie  of  men.    Wherupon  Avas  raised  (in  my  opinion)  that 
+which  is  spoken  of  him,  and  of  the  goddesse  Egeria.     That 
+it  was  not  for  any  straungenes,  or  melancholines  of  nature, 
+that  Numa  withdrew  him  self  from  the  conversation  and  com- 
+pany of  men,  but  bicause  he  had  found  another  more  honor- 
+able and  holy  society  of  the  Nymphe,  and  goddesse  Egeria,  Numa  con- 
+who  had  done  him,  as  they  saye,  that  honour,  as  to  make  him  versant  with 
+her  husband  :  with  whom  as  his  beloved  darling  it  is  sayed  he  j^^g^^    ^^^^ 
+enjoyed  happy  dayes,  and  by  dayly  frequenting  of  her  com- 
+pany, he  was  inspired  with  the  love  and  knowledge  of  all  celes- 
+tiall things.    Surely,  these  devises  are  much  like  unto  certain 
+old  fables  of  the  Phrygians,  which  they  having  learned  from  the 
+father  to  the  sonne,  doe  love  to  tell  of  one  Atis  :  of  the  Bithyn- 
+ians,  of  one  Herodotus  :  of  the  Arcadians,  of  one  Endymion  : 
+and  of  many  other  such  like  men,  who  in  their  lives  were  taken 
+for  sayntes,  and  beloved  of  the  goddes.     Notwithstanding,  it 
+is  likely,  that  the  goddes  love  neither  birdes,  nor  horse,  but 
+men,  and  have  sometimes  a  liking  to  be  familliar  with  perfect 
+good  men,  and  doe  not  disdaine  sometime  the  conversation  Goddes 
+of  suche  as  be  holye,  religious,  and  devoute.     But  to  beleeve  familher  with 
+the  goddes  have  carnall  knowledge,  and  doe  delight  in  the  "^^°" 
+Y  169 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+NUMA  outward  beavvtie  of  creatures,  that  seemeth  to  carie  a  very 
+POMPILIUS  harde  beliefe.  Yet  the  wise  Egyptians  thincke  it  probable 
+enough  and  likely,  that  the  spirite  of  the  goddes  hath  geven 
+originall  of  generation  to  women,  and  doe  beget  fruite  of 
+their  bodies :  howbeit  they  holde  that  a  man  can  have  no 
+corporall  companie  with  any  divine  nature.  Wherein  they 
+doe  not  consider,  that  every  thing  that  joyneth  together, 
+doth  deliver  againe  a  like  substaunce,  to  that  wherewith  it 
+was  joyned.  This  notwithstanding,  it  is  mete  we  should 
+beleeve  the  godds  beare  good  will  to  men,  and  that  of  it 
+doth  spring  their  love,  whereby  men  saye  the  goddes  love 
+those  whose  manners  they  purifie,  and  inspire  with  vertue. 
+And  they  doe  not  offende,  which  fayne  that  Phorbas, 
+Hyacinthus  and  Admetus,  were  sometimes  the  lovers  of 
+Apollo,  and  also  Hippolytus  the  Sicyonian :  of  whom  they 
+reporte,  that  ever  when  he  passed  over  the  arme  of  the  sea 
+which  lieth  betweene  the  citties  of  Sicyona,  and  of  Cirrha, 
+the  god  which  knewe  he  came,  rejoyced,  and  caused  Pythia 
+the  prophetesse  to  pronounce  these  heroycall  verses, 
+
+I  knowe  full  well,  my  deare  Hippolytus, 
+returnes  by  sea,  my  minde  divineth  thus. 
+
+Who  are  be-  It  is  sayd  also  that  Pan  was  in  love  with  Pindarus  and  his 
+AA  ^^  *^^     verses,  and  that  the  goddes  honored  the  poets  Hesiodus,  and 
+
+^^    ^^'  Archilocus,  after  their   death  by  the  Muses.      They  saye 
+
+moreover,  that  ^Esculapius  laye  with  Sophocles  in  his  life 
+time,  and  at  this  daye  they  doe  yet  showe  many  tokens 
+thereof:  and  after  his  death,  another  god  (as  it  is  reported) 
+made  him  to  be  honorably  buried.  Nowe  if  they  graunte, 
+that  such  things  maye  be  true  :  how  can  we  refuse  to  beleeve, 
+that  some  goddes  have  bene  familliar  with  Zaleucus,  Minos, 
+Zoroastres,  Lycurgus,  Numa,  and  such  other  like  personages, 
+which  have  governed  kingdomes,  and  stablished  common 
+weales  ?  and  it  is  not  unlike  that  the  goddes  in  deede  dyd 
+company  with  them,  to  inspire  and  teache  them  many 
+notable  things,  and  that  they  did  drawe  neere  unto  these 
+Poets,  and  players  of  the  harpe,  that  made  and  played  many 
+dolefuU  and  joyfuU  ditties,  at  the  least  for  their  sporte  and 
+pleasure  onely,  if  ever  they  came  neere  them.  Nevertheles 
+170 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+if  any  man  be  of  other  opinion,  the  waye  is  open  and  large  as       NUMA 
+Bacchylides  sayed,  to  thincke  and  saye  as  he  lust.     For  my  POMPILIUS 
+selfe  I  doe  finde,  that  which  is  written  of  Lycurgus,  Numa, 
+and  other  suche  persones,  not  to  be  without  likelyhood  and 
+probabilitie :    who  having  to  governe  rude,  churlishe,  and 
+stifFe   necked   people,  and  purposing  to  bring  in  straunge 
+novelties  into  the  governments  of  their  countries,  did  fayne 
+wisely  to  have  conference  with  the  godds,  considering  this 
+fayning  fell  to  be  profitable  and  beneficiall  to  those  them 
+selves,    whom    they    made   to   beleeve   the    same.      But   to 
+returne  to  our  historic.     Numa  was  fourty  yeres  olde,  when 
+the  ambassadours  of  Rome  were  sent  to  present  the  King- 
+dome   unto    him,   and   to  intreate  him  to  accept  thereof. 
+Proclus,  and  V'elesus,  were  the  ambassadours  that  were  sent.  Proclus  and 
+One  of  the  which  the  people  looked  should  have  bene  chosen  Velesus  am- 
+r      xr-         u-  4-1  t  r>  1  -J      J- J   c  I,     bassadours  to 
+
+tor  Knig,  bicause  those  oi  Komulus  side,  did  lavour  muche  ^^^j.  ^^^^^ 
+
+Proclus  :  and  those  of  Tatius  parte  favored  Velesus,     Nowe  the  kingdom, 
+they  used  no  long  speache  unto  him,  bicause  they  thought 
+he  would  have  bene  glad  of  suche  a  great  good  fortune.    But 
+contrarely  it  was  in  deede  a  very  hard  thing,  and  required 
+great  persuasions,  and  much  intreatie,  to  move  a  man  which 
+had  all  way  es  lived  quietly,  and  at  ease,  to  accept  the  regi- 
+ment of  a  cittie,  which  as  a  man  would  saye,  had  bene  raysed 
+up  and  growen  by  warres,  and  martiall   dedes,     Wherfore 
+he  aunswered  them   in  the  presence  of  his  father,  and  one 
+other  of  his  kinsemen  called  Martins  in  this  sorte :  Chaunge  The  oration 
+and  alteration  of  mans  life  is  ever  daungerous :  but  for  him  ^J^^""?**,'| 
+that  lacketh  nothing  necessarie,  nor  hath  cause  to  complaine  doursreftisina' 
+of  his  present  state,  it  is  a  great  follie  to  leave  his  olde  to  be  King, 
+acquainted  trade  of  life,  and  to  enter  into  another  newe 
+and  unknowen,  if  there  were  no  other  but  this  only  respect : 
+that  he  leaveth  a  certaintie,  to  venter  upon  an  uncertainty. 
+Howbeit  there  is  further  matter  in  this,  that  the  daungers 
+and   perills  of  this   kingdom  which  they  offer  me,  are  not 
+altogether  uncertain,  if  we  wil  looke  backe  what  happened 
+unto  Romulus.     Who  was  not  unsuspected   to  have  layed 
+waite,  to  have  had  Tatius  his  fellow  and  companion  mur- 
+dered :  and  now  after  Romulus  death,  the  Senatours  selves 
+are   mistrusted    to  have    killed   him   on  the  other  side   by 
+
+171 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+NUMA  treason.  And  yet  they  saye  it,  and  singe  it  every  where : 
+POMPILIUS  that  Romulus  was  the  sonne  of  a  god,  that  at  his  birthe  he 
+was  miraculously  preserved,  and  afterwardes  he  was  as  in- 
+crediblie  brought  up.  Whereas  for  my  owne  parte,  I  doe 
+confesse,  I  was  begotten  by  a  mortall  man,  and  was  fostered, 
+brought  up,  and  taught  by  men  as  you  know :  and  these  fewe 
+qualities  which  they  prayse  and  commend  in  me,  are  condi- 
+tions farre  unmete  for  a  man  that  is  to  raigne.  I  ever  loved 
+a  solitarie  life,  quiet  and  studie,  and  did  exempt  my  selfe 
+from  worldly  causes.  All  my  life  time  I  have  sought  and 
+loved  peace  above  all  things,  and  never  had  to  doe  with  any 
+warres.  My  conversation  hath  bene  to  companie  with  men, 
+which  meete  only  to  serve  and  honour  the  goddes,  or  to 
+laughe  and  be  merie  one  with  another,  or  els  to  spende  their 
+time  in  their  private  affayers,  or  otherwise  sometime  to 
+attend  their  pastures,  and  feeding  of  their  cattell.  Whereas 
+Romulus  (my  Romaine  lordes)  hath  left  you  many  warres 
+begonne,  which  peradventure  you  could  be  contented  to 
+spare :  yet  now  to  mainteine  the  same,  your  citie  had  neede 
+of  a  martiall  King,  active,  and  strong  of  bodye.  Your 
+people  moreover,  through  long  custome,  and  the  great 
+increase  they  are  geven  unto  by  feates  of  amies,  desire 
+nought  els  perhappes  but  warres :  and  it  is  plainely  scene, 
+they  seeke  still  to  growe,  and  commaund  their  neighbours. 
+So  that  if  there  were  no  other  consideration  in  it,  yet  were  it 
+a  mere  mockerie  for  me,  to  goe  to  teache  a  cittie  at  this 
+present  to  serve  the  goddes,  to  love  justice,  to  hate  warres, 
+and  to  flye  violence :  when  it  rather  hath  neede  of  a  conquer- 
+ing captaine,  then  of  a  peaceable  King.  These  and  suche 
+other  like  reasons  and  persuasions  Numa  alleaged,  to  dis- 
+charge him  selfe  of  the  Kingdome  which  they  offred  him. 
+Howljeit  the  ambassadours  of  the  Romaines  most  humbly 
+besought  and  prayed  him  with  all  instance  possible,  that  he 
+would  not  be  the  cause  of  another  newe  sturre,  and  com- 
+motion among  them,  seeing  both  partes  in  the  cittie  have 
+geven  their  consent  and  liking  to  him  alone,  and  none  other 
+to  be  their  King.  Moreover,  when  the  ambassadours  had 
+left  him  upon  this  sute,  his  father,  and  Martins  his  kinseman, 
+beganne  also  privately  to  perswade  him,  that  he  should  not 
+172 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+refuse  so  good  and  godly  an  offer.     And  albeit  he  was  con-        NUMA 
+
+tented  with  liis  present  state,  and  desired  to  be  no  richer  POMPILIUS 
+
+than  he  was,   nor  coveted  no  princely  honour  nor  glorie, 
+
+bicause  he  sought  only  most  famous  vertue :  yet  he  must 
+
+needes  thincke,  that  to  rule  well,  was  to  doe  the  goddes  good 
+
+service,  whose  will  it  was  to  employe  the  justice  they  knewe 
+
+in  him,  and  not  to  suffer  it  to  be  idle.     Refuse  not  therefore 
+
+(quoth  they)  this  royall  dignitie,  which  to  a  grave  and  wise 
+
+man  is  a  goodly  field,  to  bring  forth  many  commendable 
+
+workes  and  fruites.    There  you  maye  doe  noble  service  to  the 
+
+godds,  to  humble  the  heartes  of  these  martiall  people,  and  to 
+
+bring  them  to  be  holy  and  religious  :  for  they  readely  tume, 
+
+and  easely  conforme  them  selves  unto  the  nature  of  their 
+
+prince.      They   dearely   loved   Tatius,   although   he    was   a 
+
+straunger :  they  have  consecrated    a   memorie   to   Romulus 
+
+with  divine  honours,  which  they  make  unto  him  at  this  daye. 
+
+And  it  maye  be,  that  the  people  seeing  them  selves  con- 
+
+querers,  will  be  full  enough  of  warres :  and  the  Romaines 
+
+being  nowe  full  of  spoyles  and  triumphes,  will  be  glad  to 
+
+have  a  gentle  prince,  and  one  that  loveth  justice,  that  they 
+
+maye  thenceforth  live  in  peace,  under  good  and  holy  lawes. 
+
+And  yet  if  it  be  otherwise,  that  their  hartes  be  still  full  of 
+
+heate  and  furie  to  fight :  is  it  not  better  to  turne  this  their 
+
+desire  to  make  warres  some  other  waye,  when  a  man  hathe 
+
+the  bridle  in  his  owne  handes  to  doe  it,  and  to  be  a  meane  in 
+
+the  meane  time  to  joyne  the  countrie,  and  all  the  nation  of 
+
+the  Sabynes,  in  perpetuall  love  and  amitie,  with  so  mighty 
+
+and  florishing  a  cittie  ?   besides  all  these  persuasions   and 
+
+reasons,  there  were  many  signes  also  (as  they  saye)  which 
+
+promised  him  good  lucke,  together  with  the  earnest  affection 
+
+and  liking  of  his  owne  countrie  cittizens.     Who,  so  soone  as 
+
+they  understoode  the  coming,  and  commission  of  the  ambas- 
+
+sadours  of  Rome,  tliey  importunately  desired  him  to  goe 
+
+thither,  and  to  accept  the  offer  of  the  Kingdome :  that  he 
+
+might  more  straightly  unite  and  incorporate  them  together 
+
+with  the  Romaines.     ^Vhereupon,  Numa  accepted  the  King-  N^uma  begiu- 
+
+dome.     Then  after  he  had  done  sacrifice  to  the  goddes,  he  \'^*^  his  kmg- 
+
+„  1  !••  1-r.  11       dome  with 
+
+set  lorwardes  on  his  journey    towardes  Rome:    wliere  the  sen-ice  of  tlie 
+
+people  and  Senate  went  out  to  meete  him,  with  a  wonderfull  goddes. 
+
+173 
+
+
+NUMA 
+POMPILIUS 
+
+
+Numa  was 
+consecrated 
+by  the 
+Augures. 
+
+
+The  garde  of 
+Celeres  dis- 
+charged by 
+Numa. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+desire  to  see  him.  The  women  at  his  entrie,  went  blessing 
+of  him,  and  singing  of  his  prayses.  They  dyd  sacrifice  for 
+him,  in  all  the  temples  of  the  goddes.  There  was  neither 
+man  nor  woman  but  seemed  to  be  as  joyfull  and  glad  :  as  if  a 
+newe  Realme,  and  not  a  newe  Kinge,  had  bene  come  to  the 
+cittie  of  Rome,  Thus  was  he  brought  with  this  open  joye, 
+and  rejoycing,  unto  the  market  place,  where  one  of  the 
+Senatours,  which  at  that  time  was  regent,  called  Spurius 
+Vettius,  made  them  pronounce  his  open  election :  and  so 
+by  one  consent  he  was  chosen  King,  with  all  the  voyces  of 
+the  people.  Then  were  brought  unto  him  the  tokens  of 
+honour  and  dignitie  of  the  King.  But  he  him  selfe  com- 
+maunded  they  should  be  stayed  a  while,  saying :  He  must 
+first  be  confirmed  King  by  the  goddes.  Then  he  tooke  the 
+wise  men  and  priests,  with  whom  he  went  up  into  the  Capitoll, 
+which  that  time  was  yet  called  mounte  Tarpeian.  And  there, 
+the  chiefest  of  the  soothesayers  called  Augures,  turned  him 
+towardes  the  southe,  having  his  face  covered  with  a  veyle, 
+and  stoode  behinde  him,  laying  his  right  hande  upon  his 
+heade,  and  praying  to  the  goddes  that  it  would  please  them 
+to  declare  their  willes  by  flying  of  birdes,  or  some  other 
+token  concerning  this  election  :  and  so  the  soothesayer  cast 
+his  eyes  all  about,  as  farre  as  he  could  possiblie  d^iscerne. 
+During  all  this  time  there  was  a  marvelous  silence  in  the 
+market  place,  although  then  an  infinite  number  of  people 
+were  assembled  there  together,  attending  with  great  devotion 
+what  the  issue  of  this  divination  would  be  :  untill  there 
+appeared  unto  them  on  the  right  hande,  good  and  lucky 
+birdes,  which  did  confirme  the  election.  Then  Numa  putting 
+on  his  regall  robes,  came  downe  from  mounte  Tarpeian,  into 
+the  market  place,  where  all  the  people  receyved  him  with 
+wonderfull  showtes  of  joye,  as  a  man  the  most  holy,  and  best 
+beloved  of  the  goddes  that  they  could  have  chosen.  So 
+having  taken  the  royall  seate  of  the  Kingdome,  his  first  acte 
+was  this.  That  he  discharged  the  garde  of  the  three  hundred 
+souldiers,  which  Romulus  had  allwayes  about  his  persone, 
+called  Celeres  :  saying,  he  would  not  mistrust  them  which 
+trusted  him,  neither  would  he  be  King  over  people,  which 
+should  mistrust  him.  His  second  acte  was,  that  he  did  adde 
+174 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+to  the  two  priests  of  lupiter  and   Mars,  a  thirde,  in  the       NUMA 
+honour  of  Romulus,  who  was  called  Flamen  Quirinalis.     For  POMPILIUS 
+the  auncient  Romaines  also  called  their  priests,  instituted  in  Flamen 
+the  olde  time,  Flamines,  by  reason  of  certaine  litle  narrowe  Quirinalis 
+hattes  which  they  did  weare  on  their  heades,  as  if  they  had  of^j^u^na** 
+called  them  Pilamines :  for  Pilos  in  Greeke  signifieth  a  hatte. 
+And  at  that  time  (as  they  saye)  there  were  many  moe  Greeke 
+wordes  mingled  with  the  Latine,  then  there  are  at  this  daye. 
+For  they  called  the  mantells  the  Kings  did  weare  Loenas. 
+And  luba  sayeth  that  it  is  the  very  same  which  the  Grecians 
+call  Chlce7ias,  and  that  the  younge  boye  which  was  a  servaunte 
+in  the  temple  of  lupiter,  was  called  Camillus,  as  some  of  the 
+Grecians  doe  yet  call  the  god  Mercuric,  bicause  he  is  servaunt 
+of  the  godds.     Now  Numa  having  done  these  things  at  his 
+first  entrie  into  his  Kingdome,  still  to  winne  further  favour 
+and  goodwill  of  the  people :  beganne  immediately  to  frame 
+his  cittizens  to  a  certaine  civilitie,  being  as  iron  wrought  to  Numa  induc- 
+softenes,  and  brought  them  from  their  violent  and  warlike  eth  civill  and 
+desires,  to  temperate  and  civill  manners.     For  out  of  doubt,  ^"'^* 
+Rome  was  properly  that,  which  Plato  ascribeth  to  a  cittie  Plato  de  Rep. 
+full  of  trouble  and  pryde.     For,  first  it  was  founded  by  the        ^' 
+most  coragious  and  Avarlike  men  of  the  worlde,  which  from 
+all  partes  were  gathered  there  together,  in  a  most  desperate 
+boldnes :  and  afterwards  it  increased,  and  grewe  strong,  by 
+armes  and  continuall  warres,  like  as  pyles  driven  into  the 
+grounde,  which  the  more  they  are  rammed  in,  the  further 
+they  enter,  and  sticke  the  faster.     Wherefore  Numa  judging 
+it  no  small  nor  light  enterprise,  to  plucke  downe  the  hawty 
+stomacks  of  so  fierce  and  violent  a  people,  and  to  frame  them 
+unto  a  sobre  and  quiet  life  :    dyd  seeme  to  worcke  it  by 
+meanes  of  the  goddes,  with  drawing  them  on  thereto  by  litle 
+and  litle,  and  pacifying  of  their  whotte  and  fierce  corages  to 
+fight,  with  sacrifices,  feastes,  dauncings,  and  common  proces- 
+sions, wherein  he  celebrated  ever  him  selfe.     In  the  which 
+together  with  their  devotion,  there  was  mingled  nowe  and 
+then,  pastime  and  pleasure :    and  sometimes  he  layed  the 
+terrour  and  feare  of  the  goddes  before  their  eyes,  making 
+them  beleeve  that  he  had  seene  straunge  visions,  or  that  he 
+had  heard  voyces,  by  which  the  goddes  dyd  threaten  them 
+
+175 
+
+
+Numa  and 
+Pythagoras 
+institutions 
+muche  a  like. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+NUMA  witli  some  great  troubles  and  plagues,  allwayes  to  pull  downe 
+POMPILIUS  and  humble  their  heartes,  unto  the  feare  of  the  goddes. 
+This  was  the  cause  why  they  thought  afterwardes  that  he 
+had  learned  his  wisdome  of  Pythagoras  the  philosopher : 
+bicause  the  greatest  parte  of  the  philosophic  of  the  one,  and 
+of  the  government  of  the  other,  consisted  in  suche  ceremonies, 
+and  divine  studies.  They  reporte  also  that  Numa  dyd  put 
+on  the  outwarde  showe  and  semblaunce  of  Pythagoras  holi- 
+nes,  as  following  his  intention  and  example.  For  Pythagoras 
+as  they  saye,  made  an  eagle  so  tame  and  gentle,  that  she 
+would  stoupe,  and  come  downe  to  him  by  certaine  voyces,  as 
+she  flewe  in  the  ayer  over  his  head.  And  that  passing 
+through  the  assembly  of  the  games  Olympicall,  he  shewed 
+her  thighe  of  golde,  and  many  other  prety  feates  and  deedes 
+they  tell  of,  which  seemed  to  be  wonderfull,  and  for  which 
+Timon  Phliasian  hath  written  these  verses  of  him : 
+
+Pji;hagoras  which  loved  to  dwell  in  dignitie, 
+
+and  had  an  harte  to  glorie  bent,  and  past  in  pollecie, 
+
+Muche  like  a  man  which  sought,  by  charming  to  enchaunte, 
+
+did  use  this  arte,  to  winne  mens  mindes,  which  unto  him  did  hauute. 
+
+His  grave  and  pleasaunt  tongue,  in  sugred  speache  did  flowe, 
+
+whereby  he  drewe  most  mindes  of  men,  to  bent  of  his  owne  bowe. 
+
+Even  so  the  fayned  fable  of  Numa,  which  he  so  cunningly 
+disguised,  was  about  the  love  of  a  goddesse,  or  some  Nymphe 
+of  the  mountaine :  with  whom  he  seemed  to  have  certaine 
+secret  meetings  and  talke,  whereof  we  have  spoken  before. 
+And  it  is  sayed  he  muche  frequented  the  Muses  in  the  woddes. 
+For  he  would  saye,  he  had  the  most  parte  of  his  revelations 
+of  the  Muses,  and  he  taught  the  Romaines  to  reverence  one 
+of  them  above  all  the  rest,  who  was  called  Tacita,  as  ye 
+would  saye,  ladye  silence.  It  seemeth  he  invented  this,  after 
+the  example  of  Pythagoras,  who  did  so  specially  commaund, 
+and  recomend  silence  unto  his  schollers.  Againe,  if  we  con- 
+sider what  Numa  ordeined  concerning  images,  and  the  repre- 
+sentation of  the  goddes,  it  is  alltogether  agreable  unto  the 
+doctrine  of  Pythagoras  :  who  thought  that  god  was  neither 
+sensible,  nor  mortall,  but  invisible,  incorruptible,  and  only 
+intelligible.  And  Numa  dyd  forbid  the  Romaines  also  to 
+beleeve,  that  god  had  ever  forme,  or  likenes  of  beast  or  man. 
+
+176 
+
+
+Numa  wor- 
+shipped Tacita 
+one  of  the 
+
+Muses. 
+
+Pythagoras 
+taught  his 
+schollers  to 
+kepe  silence. 
+
+Pythagoras 
+opinion  of 
+God. 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+So  that  in  those  former  times,  there  was  in  Rome  no  image  of      NUMA 
+god,  either  painted  or  graven  :  and  it  was  from  the  beginning  POMPILIUS 
+a  hundred  three  score  and  tenne  yeres,  that  they  had  buylt  Numa  for- 
+temples  and  chappels  unto  the  godds  in  Rome,  and  yet  there  l^^d  images 
+was  neither  picture  nor  image  of  god  within  them.      For  ^     **  * 
+they  tooke  it  at  the  first  for  a  sacriledge,  to  present  heavenly 
+things  by  earthely  formes :    seeing  we  cannot  possibly  any 
+waye  attaine  to  the  knowledge  of  god,  but  in  minde  and 
+understanding.     The  very  sacrifices  which   Numa  ordeined, 
+were  altogether  agreable,  and  like  unto  the  manner  of  serving 
+of  the  goddes,  which  the  Pythagorians  used.     For  in  their 
+sacrifices  they  spilt  not  the   bloude,  but   they  did   theirs 
+commonly,  with  a  litle  meale,  a  litle  sheading  of  wine  and 
+milke,  and  with  suche  other  light  things.     Suche  as  affirme 
+that  those  two  men  did  much  company  and  were  famillier 
+together,  doe  laye  further  proofes  and  arguments  for  the 
+same.      The  first  is  this :    That   the   Romaines  did   make  Proofes  for 
+Pythagoras  a  free  man  of  the  cittie  of  Rome,  as  Epicharmus  the  conversa- 
+the  Comicall  poet  an  auncient  writer  (and  sometimes  one  of  *^°?  p^J)^!^"^'^ 
+Pythagoras  schollers)  sayeth  in  a  booke  he  wrote  and  dedi-  ^^ras  ^ 
+cated   unto  Antenor.      The  other  proofe  is :    That  Numa 
+having  had  foure  children,  called  one  of  them  Mamercus, 
+after  Pythagoras   sonnes   name,    from  whom    they   saye   is 
+discended,  the  house  of  the  ^Emylians,  which  is  the  noblest 
+of  the  Patricians :   for  the  King  gave  him  the  surname  of 
+iEmylius,  bicause  of  his  sweete  tongue  and  pleasaunt  voyce. 
+Furthermore,  I  my  self  have  heard  saye  many  times  in  Rome, 
+that  the  Romaines  having  receyved  an  oracle,  which  com- 
+maunded  them  to  set  up  images  in  their  cittie,  to  the  wisest 
+and  valliantest  man  that  ever  was  amongest  the  Grecians : 
+caused  two  statues  of  brasse  to  be  set  up  in  their  market 
+place,  the  one  of  Pythagoras,  and  the  other  of  Alcibiades. 
+Howbeit  to    strive  about   this  matter  any  further,    seeing 
+there  are  so  many  doubtes  :  me  thincketh  it  were  but  vaine. 
+Moreover,  they  attribute  to  Numa,  the  first  erection  of  the  Numa  in- 
+colledge  pontificall :    and   saye  he  him  selfe  was  the   first  stjtuteth 
+Pontifex  that  ever  was.     But  touching  the  name  of  Pontifex,  ^i^hoppes. 
+some  will  saye  they  were  so  called,  bicause  they  chiefly  were  Pontifices 
+ordeined  and  appointed  for  the  service  of  the  almightie  :  for  ^^^y  so  called. 
+Z  177 
+
+
+NUMA 
+POMPILIUS 
+
+
+The  wodden 
+bridge  at 
+Rome. 
+
+
+The  highe 
+bishoppe. 
+
+
+The  institu- 
+tion of  the 
+Vestall 
+Nunnes. 
+
+The  holy  and 
+immortal  fire. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+this  word  Potens  in  the  Romaine  tongue,  betokeneth  mightie. 
+Other  thineke  this  name  was  geven  to  them  by  their  founders, 
+as  to  exempt  persones  out  of  the  worlde  :  who  enjoyned  them 
+to  doe  all  the  service  and  sacrifices  to  the  goddes  they  could 
+possibly,  and  yet  notwithstanding,  if  they  had  any  other 
+lawfull  let  or  impediment  thereof,  they  were  not  straight 
+condemned  for  omitting  the  same.  Howbeit  the  most  parte 
+doe  bring  out  another  derivation  of  this  name,  wherein 
+me  thinckes  there  is  litle  reason.  As  that  they  should  be 
+called  Pontifices,  bicause  they  had  the  charge  of  maintenaunce 
+of  the  bridge.  For  that  which  the  Grecians  call  Gephyran^ 
+the  Latines  call  Pontem :  that  is,  '  a  bridge.'  And  to  saye 
+truely,  the  charges  of  repairing  the  bridge,  belongeth  to 
+the  bishoppes :  aswell  as  the  keeping  of  the  most  holy 
+and  unchaungeable  ceremonies.  For  the  Romaines  thought 
+it  not  only  a  thing  unlawfull,  but  tooke  it  for  a  most 
+damnable  and  wicked  acte,  to  destroye  or  breake  the  bridge 
+of  wodde,  which  was  only  joyned  together  (as  they  saye) 
+with  pinnes  of  wodde,  and  without  any  iron  at  all,  by  the 
+commaundement  of  an  olde  oracle.  But  the  stone  bridge 
+was  buylt  long  time  after  the  raigne  of  Numa,  and  in  the 
+time  of  the  raigne  of  his  nephewe  Martins.  Nowe  the  first 
+and  chiefest  of  these  bishoppes,  which  they  call  the  great 
+Pontifex,  hath  the  place,  authoritie,  and  dignitie  of  the 
+highe  prieste  and  master,  of  their  pontificall  lawe :  who 
+should  be  carefull,  not  only  about  all  publicke  sacrifices 
+and  ceremonies,  but  also  about  suche  as  were  private,  and 
+to  see  that  no  man  privately  should  breake  the  auncient 
+ceremonies,  nor  bring  in  any  newe  thing  into  religion,  but 
+rather  every  man  should  be  taught  by  him,  how,  and  after 
+what  sorte  he  should  serve  and  honour  the  goddes.  He  also 
+hath  the  keping  of  the  holy  virgines  which  they  call  Vestales. 
+For  they  doe  geve  Numa  the  first  foundation  and  consecrat- 
+ing of  them,  and  the  institution  also  of  keeping  the  im- 
+mortall  fire  with  honour  and  reverence,  which  these  virgines 
+have  the  charge  of.  Either  for  that  he  thought  it  meete  to 
+commit  the  substaunce  of  fire  (being  pure  and  cleane)  unto 
+the  custodie  of  cleane  and  uncorrupt  maydes  :  or  els  bicause 
+he  thought  the  nature  of  fire  (which  is  barren,  and  bringeth 
+178 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+forth  nothing)  was  fittest,  and  most  proper  unto  virgines.       NUMA 
+For  in  Grece,  where  they  kept  continuall  fire  likewise  (as  POMPILIUS 
+in  the  temple  of  Apollo  in  Delphes,  and  at  Athens)  the 
+maydens  doe  not  keepe  the  same,  but  olde  women  which 
+are  past  mariage.     And  if  this  fire  chaunce  to  faile,  as  they 
+saye  in  Athens  the  holy  lampe  was  put  out  in  the  time  of 
+the  tyrannic  of  Aristion  :  and  in  the  cittie  of  Dclphcs  it  was 
+put  out,  when  the  temple  of  Apollo  was  burnt  by  the  Medes : 
+and  at   Rome   also,  in  the   time   of  the  warrcs   that   the 
+Romaines  had  against  king  Mithridates :  and  in  the  time 
+of  the  civill  warres,  when  altar,  fire,  and  all  were  burnt  and 
+consumed  together :  they  saye  that  it  must  not  be  lighted 
+againe  with  other  common  fire,  but  must  be  made  a  newe, 
+with  drawing  cleane  and  pure  flame  from  the  beames  of  the 
+sunne,  and  that  they  doe  in  this  manner.     They  have  a  How  the  holy 
+hollowe  vessell  made  of  a  pece  of  a  triangle,  having  a  corner  fire  is  drawen 
+right,  and  two  sides  a  like :  so  that  from  all  partes  of  his  ^^^  the  pure 
+compasse  and  circumference,  it  falleth  into  one  pointe.    Then  gunjjg 
+they  set  this  vessell  right  against  the  beames  of  the  sunne, 
+so  that  the  bright  sunne  beames  come  to  assemble  and  gather 
+together  in  the  center  of  this  vessell,  where  they  doe  pearce 
+the  ayer  so  strongely,  that  they  set  it  a  fire :  and  when  they 
+put  to  it  any  drye  matter  or  substaunce,  the  fire  taketh  it 
+straight,  bicause  the  beame  of  the  sunne,  by  meanes  of  the 
+reverberation,  putteth  that  drye  matter  into  fire,  and  forceth 
+it  to  flame.     Some  thincke  that  these  Vestall  virgines  keepe 
+no  other  thing,  but  this  fire,  which  never  goeth  out.     Other 
+saye,  there  are  other  holy  thinges  also,  which  no  bodie  maye 
+lawfully  see  but  they  :  whereof  we  have  written  more  largely 
+in  the  life  of  Camillus,  at  the  least  so  much  as  maye  be  learned  See  the  life 
+and  tolde.    The  first  maydens  which  were  vowed  and  put  into  ^^  Camillus 
+this  order  of  religion  by  Numa,  were  (as  they  saye)  Gegania,  Vestalf^     ^ 
+and  Verenia :  and  after  them,  Canuleia  and  Tarpeia.     After-  Nunnes. 
+wardes  king  Servius  increased  the  number  with  two  other,  and 
+that  number  of  foure  continueth  untill  this  daye.    Their  rule 
+and  order  set  downe  by  king  Numa  was  this  :  that  they  should  The  order 
+vowe  chastitie  for  the  space  of  thirtie  yeres.    In  the  first  tenne  ^PP"^^/'^^  *^^ 
+yeres  they  learne  what  they  have  to  doe :  the  next  tenne  j^u^^^^  ^    ^ 
+yeres  following,  they  doe  that  which  they  have  learned  :  and 
+
+179 
+
+
+NUMA 
+POMPILIUS 
+
+
+The  Vestalls 
+prerogatives. 
+
+
+The  punish- 
+ment of  the 
+Vestall 
+Nunnes. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+the  last  tenne  yeres,  they  teache  young  novices.  After  they 
+have  passed  their  thirtie  yeres,  they  maye  lawfully  marie  if 
+they  be  disposed,  and  take  them  to  another  manner  of  life, 
+and  leave  their  religion.  But  as  it  is  reported,  there  have 
+bene  very  fewe  of  them  which  have  taken  this  libertie,  and 
+fewer  also  which  have  joyed  after  they  were  professed,  but 
+rather  have  repented  them  selves,  and  lived  ever  after  a  very 
+grievous  and  sorowfull  life.  This  did  so  fraye  the  other 
+Vestalls,  that  they  were  better  contented  with  their  vowed 
+chastitie  :  and  so  remained  virgines,  untill  they  were  olde,  or 
+els  died.  He  gave  them  also  great  priviledges,  and  preroga- 
+tives. As :  to  make  their  will  and  testament,  in  their 
+fathers  life  time.  To  doe  all  things  without  any  gardian 
+or  overseer,  as  women  which  have  three  children  at  a  birth. 
+When  they  goe  abroade,  they  carie  maces  before  them  to 
+honour  them.  And  if  by  chaunce  they  meete  any  offendour 
+in  their  waye,  going  to  execution,  they  save  his  life  :  howbeit 
+the  professed  Vestall  must  affirme  by  othe,  that  she  met  him 
+unwares,  and  not  of  set  purpose.  If  any  man  presume 
+under  their  chayer,  whereupon  they  are  caried  through  the 
+cittie,  he  shall  die  for  it.  Also  when  they  them  selves  doe 
+any  faulte,  they  are  corrected  by  the  great  byshoppe,  who 
+somtimes  doth  whippe  them  naked  (according  to  the  nature 
+and  qualitie  of  their  offence)  in  a  darcke  place,  and  imder  a 
+curten.  But  she  that  hath  deflowred  her  virginity,  is  buried 
+quicke  by  one  of  the  gates  of  the  cittie,  which  they  call 
+Collina  gate :  where  within  the  cittie  there  is  a  mount  of 
+earth  of  a  good  length,  and  with  the  Latines  is  sayed  to  be 
+raised.  Under  this  forced  mount,  they  make  a  litle  hollowe 
+vawte,  and  leave  a  hole  open,  whereby  one  maye  goe  downe : 
+and  within  it  there  is  set  a  litle  bed,  a  burning  lampe,  and 
+some  vitells  to  susteine  life  withall.  As  a  litle  bread,  a  litle 
+water,  a  litle  milke,  and  a  litle  oyle,  and  that  for  honours 
+sake :  to  the  ende  they  would  not  be  thought  to  famishe  a 
+bodie  to  deathe,  which  had  bene  consecrated  by  the  most  holy 
+and  devoute  ceremonies  of  the  worlde.  This  done,  they  take 
+the  offender,  and  put  her  into  a  litter,  which  they  cover 
+strongely,  and  close  it  up  with  thicke  leather  in  suche  sorte, 
+that  no  bodie  canne  so  much  as  heare  her  voyce,  and  so  they 
+180 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+carie  her  thus  shut  up  through  the  market  place.    Every  one       NUMA 
+draweth  backe,  when  they  see  this  litter  a  farre  of,  and  doe  POMPILIUS 
+geve  it  place  to  passe  by :  and  then  follow  it  mourningly, 
+with   heavy  lookes,  and  speake  never   a  word.     They  doe 
+nothing  in  the  citie  more  fearefuU  to  behold,  then  this  : 
+neither   is   there   any  daye  wherein   the   people   are    more 
+sorowful,  then  on  such  a  daye.     Then  after  she  is  come  to 
+the  place  of  this  vawte,  the  sergeants  straight  unlose  these 
+fast  bounde  coverings  :    and  the  chiefe  byshoppe  after  he 
+hath  made  certen  secret  prayers  unto  the  godds,  and  lift  his 
+handes  up  to  heaven,  taketh  out  of  the  litter,  the  condemned 
+Vestall  muffled  up  close,  and  so  putteth  her  upon  the  ladder, 
+which  conveyeth  her  downe  into  the  vawte.     That  done,  he 
+withdraweth,  and  all  the  priestes  with  him  :  and  when  the 
+seely  ofFendour  is  gone  downe,  they  straight  plucke  up  the 
+ladder,  and  cast  aboundance  of  earthe  in  at  the  open  hole, 
+so  that  they  fill  it  up  to  the  very  toppe  of  the  arche.     And 
+this  is  the  punishment  of  the   Vestalls  which   defile  their 
+virginitie.     They  thincke  also  it  was  Numa  that  buylt  the 
+round  temple  of  the  goddesse  Vesta,  in  which  is  kept  the 
+everlasting  fire  :  meaning  to  represent  not  the  forme  of  the 
+earth,  which  they  saye  is  Vesta,  but  the  figure  of  the  whole 
+world,  in  the  middest  whereof  (according  to  the  Pythagorians  The  temple  of 
+opinion)  remaineth  the  proper  seate  and  abiding  place  of  Vesta  repre- 
+fire,  which  they  call  Vesta,  and  name  it  the  unitie.     For  senteth  the 
+they  are  of  opinion,  neither  that  the  earth  is  unmoveable,  ^^orj^p 
+nor  yet  that  it  is  set  in  the  middest  of  the  world,  neither  ^y,         , 
+that  the  heaven  goeth  about  it :  but  saye  to  the  contrarie,  ^re  abideth. 
+that  the  earth  hanged  in  the  ayer  about  the  fire,  as  about 
+the  center  thereof.    Neither  will  they  graunte,  that  the  earth 
+is  one  of  the  first  and  chiefest  partes  of  the  world  :   as  Plato 
+helde  opinion  in  that  age,  that  the  earthe  was  in  another 
+place  then  in  the  very  middest,  and  that  the  center  of  the 
+world,  as  the  most  honorablest  place,  did  apperteine  to  some 
+other  of  more  worthy  substaunce  than  the  earthe.     Further- 
+more, the  byshoppes  office  was  to  show  those  that  needed  to 
+be  taught,  all  the  rites,  manners,  and  customes  of  buriall :  The  manner 
+whom  Numa  taught  not  to  beleeve  that  there  was  any  cor-  of  buriall. 
+ruption  or  dishonesty  in  burialles,  but   rather   it  was   to 
+
+181 
+
+
+NUMA 
+POMPILIUS 
+
+
+Libitina 
+honored  at 
+funeralls. 
+
+
+The  time  of 
+mourning. 
+
+
+Salii,Feciales. 
+Pluta.  Prohl. 
+62.  Gell.  lib. 
+16.  c.  4. 
+
+Feciales 
+called  Ireno- 
+phylaces. 
+
+
+Irenen : 
+a  quarrell 
+pacified  with 
+reason,  with- 
+out the  sword. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+worshippe  and  honour  the  godds  of  the  earthe,  with  usuall 
+and  honorable  ceremonies,  as  those  which  after  their  death 
+receyve  the  chiefest  service  of  us  that  they  canne.      But 
+above  all  other  in  burialles,  they  did  specially  honour  the 
+goddesse  called  Libitina,  that  is  sayed,  the  chiefe  governour 
+and  preserver  of  the  rites  of  the  dead  :  or  be  it  Prosperina, 
+or  Venus,  as  the  most  learned  men  among  the  Romaines  doe 
+judge,  who  not  without  cause  doe  attribute  the  order  of  the 
+beginning  and  ende  of  mans  life,  to  one  self  god,  and  power 
+divine,      Numa  ordained  also,  how  long  time  every  bodie 
+should  mourne  in  blackes.     And  for  a  childe   from  three 
+yeres  to  tenne  yeres  of  age,  that  died :    he  ordeined  they 
+should  mourne  no  more  monethes  then  it  had  lived  yeres, 
+and  not  to  adde  a  daye  more.     For  he  commaunded,  that 
+the  longest  time  of  mourning  should  be  but  ten  moneths 
+onely,  and  so  long  time  at  the  least  he  willed  women  should 
+remaine  widdowes,  after  the  decease  of  their  husbands  :  or  els 
+she  that  would  marie  within  that  time,  was  bounde  by  his 
+order  to  sacrifice  a  whole   bullocke.      Numa  also   erected 
+many  other  orders  of  priestes :  of  two  sortes  whereof  I  will 
+only  make  mention.     The  one  shalbe  the  order  of  the  Salii, 
+and  the  other  of  the  Feciales  :  for  me  thinckes,  both  the  one 
+and  the  other  doth  manifestly  showe  the  great  holines,  and 
+singular  devotion  which  he  had  in  him.     The  Feciales  are 
+properly  those,  which  the  Grecians  call  Irenophylaces,  as  who 
+would  saye,  peacekeepers.       And   in   my  judgement,  they 
+had  their  right  name  according  to  their  office,  bicause  they 
+did  pacific  quarells  with  reason  by  waye  of  order,  and  did 
+not  suffer  (as  much  as  in  them  laye)  that  any  matter  should 
+be  tried  by  violence,  untill  they  were  past  all  hope  of  any 
+peace.     For  the  Grecians  call  it  properly  Irenen,  when  both 
+parties  agree,  and  decide  their  controversie  with  reason,  and 
+not  with  sworde.     Even  so  those  which  the  Romaines  called 
+the  Feciales,  went  many  times  in  persone  to  those  that  dyd 
+the  Romaines  injurie,  and  sought  to  persuade  them  with 
+good  reason,  to  keepe  promise  with  the  Romaines,  and  to 
+offer  them  no  wrong.     But  if  they  would  not  yeld  to  reason, 
+whom  they  sought  to  persuade  :  then  they  called  the  goddes 
+to  the  witnes  thereof,  and  prayed  them,  that  if  they  dyd  not 
+182 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+most  earnestly  incense  the  Romaines,  to  pursue  that  most  NUMA 
+justely  apperteined  unto  their  right,  that  all  evills  and  POMPILIUS 
+mischieves  of  the  warres  might  fall  upon  them  selves,  and  on 
+their  countrie.  This  done,  they  dyd  threaten  open  warres 
+against  such  enemies.  And  if  the  Feciales  would  not  consent 
+to  open  warres,  and  dyd  happen  to  speake  against  them  :  it 
+was  not  lawfull  in  that  case,  neither  for  private  persone,  nor 
+for  the  King  him  selfe  to  make  any  warres.  But  like  a  just 
+prince,  he  must  have  leave  by  their  sufferance  to  make  the 
+warres.  Then  dyd  he  consider,  and  consult,  by  what  meanes 
+he  might  best  procure,  and  prosecute  the  same.  Concerning 
+this  matter,  they  judge  that  the  ill  happe  which  came  to  the 
+Romaines,  when  the  cittie  of  Rome  was  taken  and  sacked  by 
+the  Gaules,  chaunced  justely  for  breaking  of  this  holy  institu- 
+tion. For  at  that  time,  the  barbarous  people  besieged  the 
+cittie  of  the  Clusinians :  and  Fabius  Ambustus  was  sent 
+ambassadour  unto  them,  to  see  if  he  could  make  peace 
+betweene  them.  The  barbarous  people  gave  him  an  ill 
+aunswer :  whereupon  Fabius  thincking  his  embasie  had  bene 
+ended,  and  being  somwhat  whotte,  and  rashe  in  defence  of 
+the  Clusinians,  gave  defiaunce  to  the  valliantest  Gaule  there, 
+to  fight  with  him  man  to  man.  Fortune  favored  him  in  this 
+chalenge :  for  he  slew  the  Gaule,  and  stripped  him  in  the 
+fielde.  The  Gaules  seeing  their  man  slayne,  sent  immediately 
+an  heraulde  to  Rome,  to  accuse  Fabius,  howe  against  all 
+right  and  reason,  he  beganne  warres  with  them,  without  any 
+open  proclamation  made  before.  The  Feciales  being  then 
+consulted  with  thereabout,  did  declare,  he  ought  to  be 
+delivered  into  the  handes  of  the  Gaules,  as  one  that  had 
+broken  the  lawe  of  armes,  and  had  deserved  it :  but  he  made 
+friends  to  the  people  which  favored  him  very  much,  and  by 
+their  meanes  escaped  liis  deliverie,  and  punishment.  Never- 
+thles,  the  Gaules  within  shorte  time  after,  came  before  Rome  Rome  taken 
+with  all  their  power :  which  they  tooke,  sacked,  and  burnt  ^y  *^  Gaules. 
+every  whit,  saving  the  Capitoll,  as  we  have  written  more  ^^^  ^"^^  "** 
+amplie  in  the  life  of  Carmillus.  Now  concerning  the  Priestes 
+that  were  called  Salii,  they  saye  he  dyd  institute  them  upon  The  institu- 
+this  occasion.  In  the  eight  yere  of  his  reigne,  there  came  a  tion  of  the 
+pestilent  disease  through  all  Italic,  and  at  the  length  it  crept  ^      ' 
+
+183 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+NUMA  also  into  Rome.  Whereat  every  man  being  greatly  aiFrayed, 
+POMPILIUS  and  discoraged,  they  saye  there  fell  from  heaven  a  target  of 
+A  target  from  copper,  which  lighted  betweene  the  handes  of  Numa.  They 
+heaven.  ^q[\  hereof  a  wonderfull  tale,  which  the  King  him  selfe  affirmed 
+
+he  heard,  of  the  Nymphe  Egeria,  and  the  Muses,  To  wit, 
+that  this  target  was  sent  from  heaven,  for  the  health  and 
+preservation  of  the  cittie :  and  therefore  he  should  keepe  it 
+carefully,  and  cause  eleven  other  to  be  cast  and  made,  all 
+like  vmto  the  same  in  facion  and  greatnes,  to  the  ende,  that 
+if  any  would  enterprise  to  steale  it,  he  should  not  tell 
+which  of  them  to  take  for  the  right  target.  Moreover  he 
+said,  he  was  commaunded  to  consecrate  the  place  to  the 
+Muses  (in  the  which  he  dyd  oftentimes  companie  with  them) 
+and  also  the  fieldes  which  were  neere  thereabouts  :  and  like- 
+wise to  geve  the  fountaine  that  sprange  in  that  place,  unto 
+the  Vestalls  professed,  that  every  daye  they  might  drawe 
+water  at  that  well,  to  washe  the  sanctuarie  of  their  temple. 
+The  successe  hereof  proved  his  words  true,  for  the  sicknes 
+ceased  incontinently.  So  he  assembled  all  the  chief  craftes 
+men  then  in  Rome,  to  prove  which  of  them  would  take  upon 
+him  to  make  one  like  unto  that.  Every  man  despayred  to 
+performe  it.  Howbeit  one  called  Veturius  Mamurius  (the 
+excellentest  workeman  that  was  in  those  dayes)  dyd  make 
+them  all  so  sute  like,  that  Numa  him  selfe  dyd  not  knowe 
+the  first  target,  when  they  were  all  layed  together.  So  he 
+Whereofthey  ordeined  these  priests  Salii,  to  have  the  custodie  of  these 
+were  called  targets,  to  see  them  safe  kept.  They  were  called  Salii,  not 
+*  "'  after  the  name  of  a  Salian  borne  in  Samothracia,  or  in  Man- 
+
+tinea,  as  some  have  untruely  alleaged,  who  first  invented  the 
+manner  of  dauncing  all  armed :  but  they  were  so  called,  of 
+their  facion  and  manner  of  dauncing,  and  leaping.  For  in 
+the  moneth  of  Marche,  they  goe  skipping  and  leaping  up 
+and  downe  the  cittie,  with  those  targetes  on  their  armes, 
+apparelled  in  red  cassockes  without  sieves,  and  girded  about 
+with  broade  leather  sworde  girdells,  studded  Math  copper, 
+having  helmets  of  copper  on  their  heads,  and  striking  upon 
+their  targets  with  shorte  daggers,  which  they  carie  in  their 
+hands.  Moreover,  all  their  dauncing  consisteth  in  moving 
+of  their  feete :  for  they  handle  them  finely,  making  tomes 
+184 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+above  ground  and  beneath,  with  a  sodaine  measure,  and  a       NUMA 
+
+marvelous  force  of  agilitie.     They  call  these  targets  Ancyl'm^  POMPILIUS 
+
+bicause  of  their  facion,  which  is  not  altogether  compasse  :  Ancylia, 
+
+for  they  are  not  all  round  as  other  common  targets  be,  but  whereof  so 
+
+they  are  cut  with  circles  wreathed  about,  both  the  endes  ^^  ^  * 
+
+bowing  in  many  foldes,  and    one   so   neere   another,  that 
+
+altogether  they  come  to  a  certaine  wreathed  forme,  which 
+
+the  Grecians  call  Ancylon.     Or  els  they  are  so  called,  bicause 
+
+A  neon  signifieth  an  elbow,  upon  which  they  carie  them.     All 
+
+these  derivations  are  written  in  the  historic  of  luba,  who  in 
+
+any  case  will  have  this  word  Aiicylia  to  be  drawen  out  of  the 
+
+Greeke  tongue.     And  it  maye  be  also  they  were  so  called, 
+
+bicause  the  first  came  from  above,  which  the  Grecians  call 
+
+Anecathen :    or  els   for   healing   the  sicke,  which   is  called 
+
+Acesis.     Or  els  for  ceasing  of  the  drines,  which  in  Greke  is 
+
+called,  Anchmon  Lysis.      Or  for  the  ending  of  all  diseases 
+
+and  evills,  for  which  cause  the  Athenians  call  Castor  and 
+
+Pollux,  Anacas :  if  they  lust  to  geve  this  word  his  derivation 
+
+from  the  Greeke  tongue.     Now  the  reward  which  Mamurius 
+
+the  goldsmithe  had  for  the  making  of  these  targets  was,  that 
+
+the  Salij  unto  this  daye  doe  make  mention  of  him,  in  their 
+
+songe,  which  they  singe  going  through  the  cittie,  and  daunc- 
+
+ing  of  their  daunce  all  armed.     Howbeit  some  thincke  they 
+
+saye  not  Veturius  Mamurius,  but  veterem  memoriam,  'auncient 
+
+'  memorie.''     But  Numa  after  he  had  ordeined  and  instituted 
+
+these  orders  of  priests,  built  his  palace  neere  unto  the  temple 
+
+of  Vesta,  which  holdeth  his  name  Regia  at  this  daye,  to  saye,  Regia,  the 
+
+the  Kings  palace.     In  which  he  remained  most  part  of  his  Kings  palace. 
+
+life,  studying  either  to  sacrifice  to  the  goddes,  or  to  teache 
+
+the  Priestes  what  they  should  doe,  or  howe  with  them  he 
+
+should  best  contemplate  all  heavenly  things.     It  is  true  that  The  manner 
+
+he  had  another  house  on  the  hill,  which  they  call  at  this  «*  the 
+
+daye,  QuirinalL  the  place  whereof  is  vet  to  be  scene.     But  l^oi^^^iies 
+
+•    -^  11    ii  -n    '^  •  "^j  •  ^4.1      worshipping 
+
+m  ail  these  sacrifices,   ceremonies,  and   processions  oi   tne  of  the  goddes. 
+
+Priestes,  there  were  allwayes  husshers  that  went  before,  crying 
+to  the  people,  Kepe  silence,  and  tend  upon  divine  service.  The  Pythago- 
+For  they  saye  the  Pythagorians  thought  it  good,  that  men  Jj^^^J.^j^^P'"^^^ 
+should  not  worshippe  the  godds,  nor  make  prayers  to  them  pj-aygj. 
+in  passing  by,  or  doing  any  other  thing :  but  they  thought 
+2  A  185 
+
+
+NUMA 
+POMPILIUS 
+
+
+Hoc  age,  a 
+watcheword 
+to  tend  divine 
+service. 
+
+The  similitude 
+of  Numa  and 
+Pythagoras 
+precepts. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE   NOBLE 
+
+it  mete,  that  men  should  of  purpose  goe  out  of  their  houses, 
+to  serve  and  praye  unto  them.  Even  so  king  Numa  thought 
+it  not  meete,  that  his  subjects  should  come  to  see,  and  heare 
+divine  service  negligently,  as  it  were  for  a  facion,  and  only 
+to  be  ryd  of  it,  as  heeding  an  other  thing :  but  he  would 
+have  them  set  a  side  all  other  busines,  and  employ  their 
+thoughts  and  harts  only  upon  the  principall  service  of 
+religion,  and  devotion  towards  the  godds.  So  that  during 
+service  time,  he  would  not  have  heard  any  noise,  any  knock- 
+ing, bounsing,  or  any  clapping,  as  they  commonly  heare  in 
+all  artificers  shoppes  of  occupation,  whereof  at  this  daye  yet 
+they  see  some  signes,  and  tokens,  remaining  in  their  sacrifices 
+at  Rome.  For  all  the  time  the  Augure  beholdeth  the  flying 
+of  the  birds,  or  that  he  is  doing  any  sacrifice,  the  vergers  crie 
+alowde :  Hoc  age^  which  meaneth,  '  tend  this.*"  And  it  is  a 
+warning  to  those  that  are  present,  to  call  their  wittes  home, 
+and  to  thincke  on  that  which  is  in  hand.  Also  there  are 
+many  of  his  orders  like  the  preceptes  of  the  Pythagorians. 
+For  as  they  dyd  warne  men,  not  to  sit  upon  a  litle  busshell, 
+not  to  cut  fire  with  a  sword,  not  to  looke  behinde  them  when 
+they  goe  abroade :  to  sacrifice  to  the  celestiall  godds  in  an 
+odde  number,  and  to  the  goddes  of  the  earth  in  an  even 
+number,  of  which  precepts,  they  would  not  have  the  common 
+people  to  have  any  knowledge  or  understanding.  Even  so 
+there  are  many  institutions  of  Numa,  the  reasons  whereof 
+are  hidden  and  kept  secret :  as  not  to  offer  wine  to  the  godds 
+of  the  vine  never  cut,  and  not  to  sacrifice  unto  them  without 
+meale  :  and  to  turne  a  turne  about  when  they  doe  reverence 
+to  the  godds,  and  to  sit  down  after  they  have  worshipped 
+them.  And  as  touching  the  two  first  ordinances,  it  seemeth 
+that  by  them  he  did  recommend  clemency,  and  humanity, 
+as  being  a  parte  of  the  devotion  towards  the  godds.  But 
+as  for  the  turning  which  he  willeth  them  to  make,  that 
+worshippe  the  goddes  :  they  saye  it  representeth  the  turning 
+which  the  element  maketh  by  his  moving.  But  me  thincketh 
+it  should  rather  come  of  this :  for  that  the  temples  being 
+set  to  the  east,  he  that  worshippeth  entring  into  the 
+temple,  sheweth  his  backe  to  the  West,  and  for  this  cause 
+turneth  towardes  that  parte,  and  afterwards  returneth  againe 
+186 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+towards  god :  doing  the  whole  turne,  and  ending  the  con-       NUMA 
+summation  of  his  prayer,  by  this  double  adoration  which  he  POMPILIUS 
+maketh  before  and  behinde.     Onles  peradventure  that   he 
+ment  secretly  to  signifie,  and  geve  them  to  understande  by 
+this  turning  and  chaunging  of  their  looke,  that  which  the 
+Egyptians  figured  by  their  wheels  :  in  showing  therby,  that 
+these  worldly  things  were  never  constant  and  in  one  state. 
+And    therfore,    that    we    should    take    it   thankfully,    and 
+paciently  beare  it,  in  what  sorte  soever  it  pleased  god  to 
+chaunge  or  alter  our  life.     And  where  he  commaunded  that 
+they  should  sit  after  they  liad  worshipped  god :  they  sayed 
+it  was  a  token  of  a  good  hope  unto  them  that  prayed,  that 
+their  prayers  should  be  exalted,  and  that  their  goods  should 
+remaine  safe,  and  sticke  by  them.      Other  saye,  that  this 
+ease  and  sitting,  is  a  separating  them  from  doing :  and  ther- 
+fore he  would  they  should  sit  in  the  temples  of  the  godds,  to 
+sliew  they  had  done  that  which  they  had  in  hand  before,  to 
+the  end  to  take  of  the  godds  the  beginning  of  another.    And 
+it  maye  well  be  also,  that  it  was  referred  to  the  thing  we 
+spake  of  a  litle  before.     That  Numa  would  accustome  his 
+people,  not  to  serve  the  godds,  nor  to  speake  to  them  at  all, 
+as  they  passed  by,  or  did  any  other  thing,  or  were  in  haste : 
+but  would  have  them  praye  unto  the  godds  when  they  had 
+time  and  leysure,  and  all  other  busines  at  that  time  set  a 
+parte.     By  this  good  instruction  and  training   them  unto 
+religion,  the  cittie  of  Rome  by  litle  and  litle  came  to  be  so 
+tractable,  and  had  the  great  power  of  king  Numa  in  such 
+admiration  :  that  they  tooke  all  to  be  as  true  as  the  gospell  By  what 
+that  he  spake,  though  it  had  no  more  likelyhood  of  trothe,  n'^ans  Numa 
+then  tales  devised  of  pleasure.     Furthermore,  they  thought  Romajngs 
+nothing  incredible,  or  unpossible  to  him,  if  he  would  have  it.  quiet  and 
+And  for  proofe  hereof,  there  goeth  a  tale  of  him,  that  he  gentle, 
+having  bidden  a  great  company  of  the  cittizens  of  Rome  to 
+come  and  suppe  with  him,  caused  them  to  be  served  with 
+plaine  grosse  meate,  and  in  very  poore  and  homely  vessell. 
+And  when  they  were  set,  and  beganne  to  fall  to  their  meate, 
+he  cast  out  words  sodainely  unto  them,  how  the  goddesse  with 
+whom  he  accompanied,  was  come  to  see  him  even  at  that  The  wonders 
+instant,  and  that  sodainely  the  hall  was  richely  furnished,  of  Numa. 
+
+187 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+NUMA  and  the  tables  covered  with  all  sortes  of  excellent  fine  and 
+POMPILIUS  delicate  meates.  Hovvbeit  this  farre  passed  all  the  vanity 
+Numaes  of  lying,  which  is  found  written  of  him,  about  his  speaking 
+
+speaking  with  with  lupiter.     The  hill  Aventine  was  not  at  that  time  in- 
+lupiter.  habited,  nor  inclosed  within  the  walles  of  Rome,  but  was 
+
+full  of  springs  and  shadowed    groves,  whether   commonly 
+Picus.  repaired  to  solace  them  selves,  the  two  godds,  Picus  and 
+
+Faunus,  Faunus,  which  otherwise  might  be  thought  two  Satyres,  or 
+
+of  the  race  of  the  Titanians :  saving  it  is  sayed,  that  they 
+went  through  all  Italic,  doing  the  like  miracles  and  wonders 
+in  phisycke,  charmes  and  arte  magike,  wliich  they  reporte  of 
+those  the  Grecians  call  Idaees  Dactyles.  There  they  saye 
+that  Numa  tooke  them  both,  having  put  into  the  spring 
+both  wine  and  honnie,  where  they  used  to  drinke.  AVhen 
+they  saw  that  they  were  taken,  they  transformed  them  selves 
+into  divers  forms,  disguising  and  disfiguring  their  naturall 
+shape,  into  many  terrible  and  feareful  sights  to  behold. 
+Nevertheles  in  the  end,  perceiving  they  were  so  fast,  as  to 
+escape  there  was  no  reckoning :  they  revealed  unto  him  many 
+The  purifying  things  to  come,  and  taught  him  the  purifying  against  light- 
+of  thunder.  ning  and  thunder,  which  they  make  yet  at  this  daye  with 
+onions,  heare,  and  pilchers.  Other  saye,  he  was  not  taught 
+that  by  them,  but  that  they  fetched  lupiter  out  of  heaven, 
+with  their  conj  uring  and  magicke :  whereat  lupiter  being 
+offended,  aunswered  in  choller,  that  he  should  make  it  with 
+heads.  But  Numa  added  straight.  Of  onions :  lupiter  re- 
+plied, Of  men.  Then  Numa  asked  him  againe,  to  take  a 
+litle  away  the  cruelty  of  the  commaundement :  What  heares  .'' 
+lupiter  aunswered,  Quicke  hears.  And  Numa  put  to  pilchers 
+also.  And  it  is  reported  that  this  was  the  goddesse  Egeria, 
+that  taught  Numa  this  subtiltie.  This  done,  lupiter  returned 
+appeased :  by  reason  whereof  the  place  was  called  Ilicium. 
+Ilicium,  the  For  Ileos  in  the  Greeke  tongue  signifieth  appeased,  and 
+name  of  the  favorable  :  and  this  purifying  was  afterwards  made  in  that 
+place.  sorte.     These  tales  not  onely  vayne,  but  full  of  mockerie 
+
+also,  doe  show  us  yet  plainely  the  zeale  and  devotion  men 
+had  in  those  times  towards  the  godds :  unto  which  Numa 
+through  custome  had  wonne  them.  And  as  for  Numa  him 
+self,  they  saye  that  he  so  firmely  put  all  his  hope  and  con- 
+188 
+
+
+k 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+fidence  in  the  helpe  of  the  godds :  that  one  daye  when  he       NUMA 
+was  told  his  enemies  were  in  armes  against  him,  he  did  but  POMPILIUS 
+laugh  at  it,  and  aunswered  :   And  I  doe  sacrifice.     It  is  he 
+(as  some  saye)  that  first  built  a  temple  to  Faith  and  Terme  :  Numa  buyld- 
+and  which  made  the  Romaines  understand,  that  the  most  ed  temples  to 
+holy  and  greatest  othe  they  could  make,  was  to  sweare  by  Faythe  and 
+their  faith,  which  they  kepe  yet  at  this  daye.     But  Terme, 
+which  signifieth  bounds,  is  the  god  of  confines,  or  borders  : 
+unto  whom  they  doe  sacrifice,  both  publickly  and  privately, 
+upon  the  limites  of  inheritaunces,  and  now  they  sacrifice  unto 
+him  live  beasts.    Howbeit  in  old  time  they  did  sacrifice  unto 
+him   without  any  blonde,  through  the   wise  institution  of 
+Numa  :  who  declared  and  preached  unto  them,  that  this  god 
+of  bounds  was  syncere,  and  upright,  witliout  bloud  or  murther, 
+as  he  that  is  a  witnes  of  justice,  and  a  keper  of  peace.     It 
+was  he,  which  in  my  opinion,  did  first  limit  out  the  bounds  Numa  made 
+of  the  territorie  of  Rome  :  which  Romulus  would  never  doe,  the  bouudes 
+for  feare  least  in  bounding  out  his  owne,  he  should  confesse  ^orieofRome 
+that  which  he  occupied  of  other  mens.     For  bounding  and 
+mearing,  to  him  that  will  keepe  it  justely :  is  a  bond  that 
+brideleth  power  and  desire.     But  to  him  that  forceth  not  to 
+kepe  it :  it  is  a  proofe  to  shew  his  injustice.    To  saye  truely, 
+the  territories  of  Rome  had  no  great  bounds  at  the  first  be- 
+ginning, and  Romulus  had  got  by  conquest  the  greatest  parte 
+of  it,  and  Numa  did  wholy  devide  it  unto  the  nedie  inhabitans 
+to  releve  them,  and  to  bring  them  out  of  poverty  :  (which 
+carieth  men  hedlong  into  mischief,  and  discourageth  them  to 
+labour)  to  the  end  that  plowing  up  the  said  lande,  they  should  Numa 
+also  plowe  up  the  weedes  of  their  own  barrennes,  to  become  advaunceth 
+civill  and  gentle.     For  there  is  no  exercise  nor  occupation  in  t"^''*se. 
+tlie  world,  which  so  sodainely  bringeth  a  man,  to  love  and 
+desire  quietnes,  as  doth  husbandrie  and  tillage :  and  yet  to 
+defend  a  mans  own,  there  is  in  it  corage  and  hardines  to  fight. 
+But  greedy  desire,  violently  to  take  from  others,  and  unjustely 
+to  occupie  that  is  none  of  theirs,  is  never  in  right  husband- 
+men.    And  therfore  Numa  having  brought  in   husbandrie 
+amongest  his  subjects,  as  a  medecine  and  meane  to  make 
+them  love  quietnes  :  was  desirous  to  inure  them  to  this  trade 
+of  life,  the  rather  to  make  them  humble  and  gentle  of  con- 
+
+189 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+
+NUMA 
+POMPILIUS 
+
+
+Numadevided 
+his  people 
+into  sundry 
+occupations. 
+
+
+Numa  tooke 
+away  the 
+factions  of 
+Romulus  and 
+Tatius. 
+
+
+dition,  then  to  increase  them  in  riches.  He  devided  all  the 
+territorie  of  Rome  into  certen  parts  which  he  called  Pagos : 
+as  much  to  saye,  as  villages.  And  in  every  one  of  them 
+he  ordeined  controllers  and  visiters,  which  should  survey  all 
+about :  and  he  him  self  somtimes  went  abroade  in  persone, 
+conjecturing  by  their  labour  the  manners  and  nature  of 
+every  man.  Such  as  he  found  diligent,  he  advaunced  them 
+unto  honour,  and  gave  them  countenaunce  and  authoritie : 
+other  which  he  sawe  slowthfull  and  negligent,  by  rebuking 
+and  reproving  of  them,  he  made  them  amend.  But  amongest 
+all  his  ordinaunces  which  he  made,  one  above  all  the  rest 
+caried  the  praise :  and  that  was,  that  he  devided  his  people 
+into  sundrie  occupations.  For  the  cittie  of  Rome  seemed 
+vet  to  be  made  of  two  nations,  as  we  have  sayed  before :  and 
+to  speake  more  properly,  it  was  made  of  two  tribes.  So  that 
+it  could  not,  or  would  not  for  any  thing  be  made  one  :  being 
+altogether  impossible  to  take  away  all  factions,  and  to  make 
+there  should  be  no  quarrells  nor  contentions  betwene  both 
+parts.  Wherefore  he  considered,  that  when  one  will  mingle 
+two  bodies  or  simples  together,  which  for  their  hardnes  and 
+contrarie  natures  cannot  well  suffer  mixture :  then  he  breaks 
+and  beates  them  together,  as  small  as  may  be.  For,  so 
+being  brought  into  a  smaller  and  lesser  powder,  they  would 
+incorporate  and  agree  the  better.  Even  so  he  thought  it 
+was  best  to  devide  the  people  also  into  many  small  partes  : 
+by  meanes  whereof  they  should  be  put  into  many  parties, 
+which  would  more  easely  take  away  the  first  and  the  greatest 
+parte,  when  it  should  be  devided  and  separated  thus  into 
+sundrie  sorts.  And  this  division  he  made  by  arts  and  occu- 
+pations :  as  minstrells,  goldsmiths,  carpinters,  diers,  shoe- 
+makers, tawers,  tanners,  bell  founders,  and  pot  makers,  and 
+so  forth  through  other  craftes  and  occupations.  So  that  he 
+brought  every  one  of  these  into  one  bodie,  and  companie  by 
+it  self:  and  ordeined  unto  every  particular  mysterie  or  crafte, 
+their  feasts,  assemblies,  and  services,  which  they  should  make 
+unto  the  godds,  according  to  the  dignitie  and  worthines  of 
+every  occupation.  And  by  this  meanes,  he  first  tooke  away 
+all  faction  :  that  neither  side  sayed,  nor  thought  any  more, 
+those  are  Sabynes,  these  are  Romaines,  these  are  of  Tatius, 
+190 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+these  are  of  Romulus.     Insomuch  as  this  division  was  an  in-       NUMA 
+corporating,  and  an  uniting  of  the  whole  together.     Among  POMPILIUS 
+other  his  ordinaunces,  they  did  much  commend  his  reforming 
+of  the  law,  that  gave   libertie   unto   fathers  to  sell  their 
+children.    For  he  did  except  children  already  maried,  so  they 
+were  maried  with  their  fathers  consent  and  goodwill :  judg- 
+ing it  to  be  to  cruell  and  over  hard  a  thing,  that  a  woman 
+who  thought  she  had  maried  a  free  man,  should  finde  her 
+self  to  be  tlie  wife  of  a  bond  man.     He  beganne  also  to  The  ordi- 
+mende  a  litle  the  calender,  not  so  exactly  as  he  should  have  naunce  of 
+done,  nor  yet  altogether  ignorantly.     For  during  the  raigne  themoneths 
+of  Romulus,  they  used  the  moneths  confusedly,  without  any  institution. 
+order  or  reason,  making  some  of  them  twenty  dayes  and 
+lesse,  and  others  five  and  thirtie  dayes  and  more,  without 
+knowing  the  difference  betwene  the  course  of  the  sunne  and  the 
+moone  :  and  only  they  observed  this  rule,  that  there  was  three 
+hundred  and  three  score  dayes  in  the  yere.     But  Numa  con- 
+sidering the  inequality  stoode  upon  eleven  dayes,  for  that  the  Macrob.  i. 
+12  revolutions  of  the  moone  are  ronne  in  300  fiftie  and  foure  S^ty^- 13- 
+dayes,  and  the  revolution  of  the  sunne,  in  365  dayes,  he  doubled 
+the  11  dayes,  wherof  he  made  a  moneth  :  which  he  placed 
+from  2  yeres  to  2  yeres,  after  the  moneth  of  February,  and 
+the  Romaines  called  this  moneth  put  betweene,  Mercidinum, 
+which  had  22  dayes.     And  this  is  the  correction  that  Numa 
+made,  which  since  hath  had  a  farre  better  amendment.     He 
+did  also  chaunge  the  order  of  the  moneths.     For  Marche 
+which  before  was  the  first,  he  made  it  now  the  third :  and 
+lanuary  the   first,  which    under  Romulus  was  the   11  and 
+February  the  12  and  last.     Yet  many  are  of  opinion,  that 
+Numa  added   these  two,  lanuary  and  February.     For  the 
+Romaines  at  the  beginning  had  but  tenne  moneths  in  the 
+yere :    as  some  of  the  barbarous    people   make   but  three 
+moneths  for  their  yere.     And  the  Arcadians  amongest  the 
+Grecians    have   but   foure    moneths   for   their   yere.      The  The  yere 
+Acarnanians  have  sixe  to  the   yere.       And  the  Egyptians  diversely 
+had  first  but   one  moneth  to   their  yere :    and  afterwards  '^^^^  ^ 
+they  made  foure  moneths  for  their  yere.     And  this  is  the 
+cause  why  they  seeme  (albeit  they  inhabite  in  a  new  countrie) 
+to  be  nevertheles  the  auncientest  people  of  the  world :  for 
+
+191 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+
+NUMA 
+POMPILIUS 
+
+
+*Peradven- 
+ture  ye  must 
+read  in  the 
+Greke  (otto 
+rfjs  rjpas) 
+which  is  to 
+saye,  of  the 
+name  of  luno. 
+
+
+that  in  their  chronicles  they  reckon  up  such  infinite  number 
+of  yeres,  as  those  which  counte  the  moneths  for  the  yeres. 
+And  to  prove  this  true,  that  the  Romaines  at  the  beginning 
+had  but  tenne  moneths  in  the  yere,  and  not  twelve :  it  is 
+easely  to  be  judged  by  the  name  of  the  last,  which  they  call 
+at  this  daye  December.  And  that  the  moneth  of  Marche 
+was  also  the  first,  maye  be  conjectured  by  this  :  for  the  fift 
+moneth  after  that,  is  yet  called  Quintilis :  the  6  Sextilis^  and 
+so  the  other  in  order  following  the  numbers.  For  if  January 
+and  February  had  then  bene  the  first,  of  necessitie  the 
+moneth  of  luly,  which  they  call  Quintilis,  must  have  bene 
+named  September  :  considering  also  that  it  is  very  likely, 
+that  the  moneth  which  Romulus  had  dedicated  unto  Mars, 
+was  also  by  him  ordeined  to  be  the  first.  The  second  was 
+Aprill :  so  called  of  the  name  Aphrodite,  that  is  to  saye 
+Venus,  unto  whom  they  make  open  sacrifice  in  this  moneth. 
+And  on  the  first  daye  of  the  same,  women  doe  washe  them 
+selves,  having  a  garland  of  myrtle  upon  their  heades,  How- 
+beit  some  other  saye,  that  it  was  not  called  after  the  name 
+of  Aphrodite,  but  it  was  only  called  Aprilis,  bicause  then  is 
+the  chiefest  force  and  strength  of  the  spring,  at  which  season 
+the  earth  doth  open,  and  the  seedes  of  plants  and  erbes 
+beginne  to  bud  and  showe  forth,  which  the  word  it  selfe 
+doth  signifie.  The  moneth  following  next  after  that,  is 
+called  Maye :  after  the  name  of  Maia,  the  mother  of 
+Mercuric,  unto  whom  the  moneth  is  consecrated.*  The 
+moneth  of  lune  is  so  called  also,  bicause  of  the  quality  of 
+that  season,  which  is  as  the  youthe  of  the  yere.  Although 
+some  will  saye,  that  the  moneth  of  Maye  was  named  of  this 
+word  Mqjores,  which  signifieth  as  much  as  the  elders :  and 
+the  moneth  of  lune,  of  Imiiores,  which  signifies  the  younger 
+men.  All  the  other  following,  were  named  in  old  time  by 
+the  numbers  according  to  their  order,  Quintilis,  Sextilis, 
+September,  October,  November,  and  December.  But  Quin- 
+tilis, was  afterward  called  lulius,  of  the  name  of  lulius 
+Caesar,  who  slew  Pompeius.  And  Sextilis  was  named 
+Augustus,  Octavius  Caesars  successour  in  the  empire,  who 
+was  also  surnamed  Augustus.  It  is  true  also  that  Domitian 
+would  they  should  call  the  two  moneths  following  (which 
+192 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+are  September  and  October)  the  one  Germanicus,  and  the       NUMA 
+other  Domitianus.     But  that  helde  not  longe  :  for  so  soone  PO.MPILIUS 
+as  Domitian  was  killed,  the  moneths  recovered  their  auncient 
+names  againe.     The  two  last  moneths  only,  have  ever  con- 
+tinued their  names,  without  chaunging  or  altering.      But 
+of  the  two  which  Numa  added,  or  at  the  least  translated  : 
+the  raoneth  of  February  doth  signifie  as  much  as  purging, 
+or  at  the  least  the  derivation  of  the  word  sowndeth  neere  it. 
+In  this  moneth,  they  doe  sacrifice  of  plantes,*  and  doe  cele-  *Some  olde 
+brate  the  feast  of  the  Lupercales,  in  which  there  are  many  Grecian 
+things  agreable,  and  like  to  the  sacrifices  made  for  purifica-  ^.?f^^\ ^^^'^  '" 
+tion.     And  the  first  which  is  January,  was  called  after  the  a^^qI^i^  ^ 
+name  of  lanus.     Wherefore  me  thinckes  that  Numa  tooke  much  to  save, 
+away  the  moneth  of  Marche  from  the  first  place,  and  gave  as  for  the 
+it  unto  January :   bicause  he  would  have   peace  preferred  tleade. 
+before  warre,  and  civill  things  before  marshall.     For  this 
+lanus  (were  he  King,  or  demigod)  in  the  former  age  was 
+counted  very  civill  and  polliticke.     For  he  chaunged  the  life 
+of  men,  which  before  his  time  was  rude,  cruell,  and  wild: 
+and  brought  it  to  be  honest,  gentle,  and  civill.     For  this  Why  lanus  is 
+cause  they  doe  painte  his  image  at  this  daye  with  two  faces,  painted  with 
+the  one  before,  and  the  other  behinde,  for  thus  chaunging  ^^**  ^^^^' 
+the  lives  of  men.     And  there  is  in  Rome  a  temple  dedicated 
+unto  him,  which  hath  two  doores,  that  be  called  the  doores 
+of  warre :    for   the   custome   is   to    open    them,  when    the 
+Romaines  have  any  warres  in  any  place,  and  to  shut  them  At  what  time 
+when  they  be  at  peace.     To  have  them  shut,  it  was  a  rare  the  temple 
+thinge  to  see,  and  happened  very  seldome  :  by  reason  of  the  ^j^^^jj^  Yiome 
+greatnes  of  their  empire,  which  of  all  sides  was  environned  ^.ju.  lib.  i. 
+with  barbarous  nations,  whom  they  were  compelled  to  keepe 
+imder  with  force  of  armes.     Notwithstanding  it  was  once 
+shut   up   in   the    time  of   Augustus,   after   he   had   slaine 
+Antonie :   and  once  before  also  in  the  yere  when  Marcus 
+Attilius  and  Titus  Manlius  were  Consuls.     But  that  con- 
+tinued not  long,  for  it  was  opened  again  incontinently,  by 
+reason  of  warres  that  came  upon  them  sone  after.     Howbeit  The  Romains 
+during  the  raigne  of  Numa,  it  was  never  one  day  opened,  had  no  warres 
+but  remained  shut  continually  by  the  space  of  three  and  ^^^^^^  '' 
+forty  yeres   together.      For  all   occasions   of  warres,  were 
+2B  193 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+NUMA  then  utterly  dead  and  forgotten :  bicause  at  Rome  the 
+POMPILIUS  people  were  not  only  through  thexample  of  justice,  clemen- 
+cie,  and  the  goodnes  of  the  King  brought  to  be  quiet,  and 
+to  love  peace  :  but  in  the  citties  thereabouts,  there  beganne 
+a  marvelous  chaunge  of  manners  and  alteration  of  life,  as  if 
+some  gentle  ayer  had  breathed  on  them,  by  some  gratious 
+and  healthfull  wind,  blowen  from  Rome  to  refresh  them. 
+And  thereby  bred  in  mens  mindes  such  a  harty  desire  to  live 
+in  peace,  to  till  the  ground,  to  bring  up  their  children,  and 
+to  serve  the  goddes  truely  :  that  almost  through  all  Italie, 
+there  Avas  nothing  but  feastes,  playes,  sacrifices,  and  bankets. 
+The  people  did  traffike  and  frequent  together,  without  feare 
+or  daunger,  and  visited  one  another,  making  great  cheere  : 
+as  if  out  of  the  springing  fountaine  of  Numaes  wisedom 
+many  pretie  brookes  and  streames  of  good  and  honest  life 
+had  ronne  over  all  Italie,  and  had  watered  it :  and  that  the 
+mildnes  of  his  wisdom  had  from  hand  to  hand  been  dis- 
+parsed  through  the  whole  world.  Insomuch,  as  the  over 
+excessive  speaches  the  Poets  accustomably  doe  use,  were  not 
+sufficient  enough  to  expresse  the  peaceable  raigne  of  that 
+time. 
+
+Tliere  :  spiders  weave,  their  cobwebbes  daye  and  night 
+in  harnesses,  which  wont  to  serve  for  warre  : 
+there  :  cancred  rust  doth  fret,  the  Steele  full  bright 
+of  trenchant  blades,  well  whet  in  many  a  larre. 
+
+There  :  mighty  speares,  for  lacke  of  use  are  eaten, 
+with  rotten  wormes  :  and  in  that  countrie  there, 
+the  braying  trompe  dotlie  never  seeme  to  threaten, 
+their  quiet  eares,  with  blasts  of  bloudy  feare. 
+
+There  :  in  that  lande,  no  drowsie  sleepe  is  broken, 
+with  hotte  alarmes,  which  terrours  doe  betoken. 
+
+For  during  all  king  Numaes  raigne,  it  was  never  heard 
+that  ever  there  were  any  warres,  civil  dissention,  or  innova- 
+tion of  government  attempted  against  him,  nor  yet  any  secret 
+enmitie  or  malice  borne  him,  neither  any  conspiracie  once 
+thought  on  to  reigne  in  his  place.  And  whether  it  was  for 
+feare  of  displeasing  the  godds  (which  visibly  seemed  to  take 
+him  into  their  protection)  or  for  the  reverent  regarde  they 
+had  unto  his  vertue,  or  for  his  prosperous  and  good  successe 
+all  the  time  he  raigned,  I  cannot  tell :  howbeit  he  sought  to 
+
+194 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+keepe  men  still  pure,  and  honest,  from  all  wickednes,  and       NUMA 
+layed  most  open  before  the  eyes  of  the  whole  world,  a  very  POMPILIUS 
+example  of  that  which  Plato  long  time  after  did  affirme,  and 
+saye,   concerning   true   government :    which   was.  That  the 
+only   meane  of  true  quietnes,  and    remedy  from   all   evill 
+(which    ever   troubleth   men)   was :    when   by  some    divine 
+ordinaunce  from  above  there  meteth  in  one  person,  the  right  Platoes saying 
+majestie  of  a  King,  and  the  minde  of  a  wise  philosopher,  to  ^^j^^'l^""."^ 
+make  vertue  governesse  and  ruler  over  vice.     For  in  deede  ^^  ^  common 
+happie  is  such  a  wise  man,  and  more  happy  are  they,  which  ^gale. 
+maye  heare  the  grave  counsaill,  and  good  lessons  of  such  a 
+mouthe.     And  there  me  thincks  needeth  no  force,  no  com- 
+pulsion, no  threates,  nor  extremitie  to  bridle  the  people. 
+For  men  seeing  the  true  image  of  vertue  in  their  visible 
+prince,  and  in  the  example  of  his  life,  doe  willingly  growe  to 
+be  wise,  and  of  them  selves  doe  fall  into  love  liking,  and  friend- 
+shippe  together,  and  doe  use  all  temperaunce,  j  ust  dealing, 
+and  good  order  one  toward  another,  leading  their  life  with- 
+out offence,  and  with  the  commendation  of  other  :  which  is 
+the  chiefe  pointe  of  felicitie,  and  the  most  happie  good  that 
+can  light  unto  men.      And  he  by  nature  is  best  worthy 
+to  be  a  King,  who  through  his  wisdome  and  vertue,  can 
+grafFe  in  mens  manners  such  a  good  disposition  :  and  this, 
+Numa  above  all  other,  seemed  best  to  knowe  and  under- 
+stand.    Furthermore,  touching  his  wives  and  children,  there  Numaes 
+are  great  contrarieties  among;  the   historiographers.       For  ^^i^es  and 
+some  of  them  saye,  he  never  maried  other  wife  then  Tatia,  ^ 
+and  that  he  never  had  any  children,  but  one  only  daughter, 
+and  she  was  called  Pompilia.     Other  write  to  the  contrarie,  Pompilia, 
+that  he  had  foure  sonnes,  Pompo,  Pinus,  Calpus,  and  Ma-  Numaes 
+mercus  :  of  every  one  of  the  which  (by  succession  from  the    ^^ 
+father  to  the  sonne)  have  descended  the  noblest  races,  and 
+most  auncient  houses  of  the  Romaines.     As  the  house  of 
+the  Pomponians,  of  Pompo :    the  house  of  the  Pinarians, 
+of  Pinus :    the  house  of  the  Calphurnians,  of  Calpus  :  and 
+the  house  of  the  jVIamercians,  of  Mamercus.      All   which 
+families  by  reason  of  their  first  progenitor  have  kept  the 
+surname  of  Reges,  '  Kings.'     There  are  three  other  writers, 
+which  doe  reprove  the  two  first :  saying  that  they  dyd  write 
+
+1  yo 
+
+
+NUMA 
+POMPILIUS 
+
+
+Pompilia 
+maried  to 
+Caius  Martius 
+Coriolanus. 
+
+Martius  the 
+Sabyne,  made 
+Senatour  at 
+Rome. 
+
+Ancus 
+Martius, 
+the  Sonne  of 
+Caius  Martius 
+Coriolanus. 
+
+The  death 
+of  Numa. 
+
+
+Numaes 
+bookes. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+to  gratifie  the  families,  making  them  falsely  to  descend  of  the 
+noble  race  of  king  Numa.  Moreover  it  is  sayed,  he  had  his 
+daughter  Pompilia,  not  by  Tatia,  but  by  his  other  wife 
+called  Lucretia,  whom  he  maried  after  he  was  made  King. 
+Howbeit  they  all  agree,  that  his  daughter  Pompilia  was 
+maried  unto  one  Martius,  the  sonne  of  the  same  Martius, 
+which  persuaded  him  to  accept  the  kingdome  of  Rome. 
+For  he  went  with  him  to  Rome,  to  remaine  there :  where 
+they  dyd  him  the  honour  to  receyve  him  into  the  number 
+of  the  Senatours.  After  the  death  of  Numa,  Martius  the 
+father  stoode  against  Tullus  Hostilius  for  the  succession  of 
+the  Realme,  and  being  overcome,  he  killed  him  selfe  for 
+sorowe.  But  his  sonne  Martius,  who  maried  Pompilia,  con- 
+tinued still  at  Rome,  where  he  begotte  Ancus  Martius,  who 
+was  king  of  Rome  after  Tullus  Hostilius,  and  was  but  five 
+yere  olde  when  Numa  dyed.  Whose  death  was  not  sodaine. 
+For  he  dyed  consuming  by  litle  and  litle,  aswell  through 
+age,  as  also  through  a  lingring  disease  that  waited  on  him 
+to  his  ende,  as  Piso  hath  written :  and  Numa  at  his  death 
+was  litle  more,  then  foure  score  yere  old.  But  the  pompe 
+and  honour  done  unto  him  at  his  funeralles,  made  his  life 
+yet  more  happie  and  glorious.  For  all  the  people  his 
+neighbours,  friendes,  kinsemen,  and  allies  of  the  Romaines 
+came  thither,  bringing  crownes  with  them,  and  other  pub- 
+licke  contributions  to  honour  his  obsequies.  The  noble  men 
+selves  of  tlie  cittie  (which  were  called  Patricians)  caried  on 
+their  shoulders  the  very  bedd,  on  which  the  course  laye,  to 
+be  conveyed  to  his  grave.  The  Priestes  attended  also  on 
+his  bodie,  and  so  dyd  all  the  rest  of  the  people,  women  and 
+children  in  like  case,  which  followed  him  to  his  tumbe,  all 
+bewaling  and  lamenting  his  death,  with  teares,  sighes,  and 
+mournings.  Not  as  a  King  dead  for  very  age,  but  as  they 
+had  mourned  for  the  death  of  their  dearest  kinseman,  and 
+nearest  friende  that  had  dyed  before  he  Avas  olde.  They 
+burnt  not  his  bodie,  bicause  (as  some  saye)  he  commaunded 
+the  contrarie  by  his  will  and  testament :  but  they  made  two 
+coffines  of  stone,  which  they  buried  at  the  foote  of  the  hill 
+called  laniculum.  In  the  one  they  layed  his  bodie,  and  in  the 
+other  the  holy  bookes  which  he  had  written  him  selfe,  much 
+196 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+like  unto  those,  which  they  that  made  the  lawes  among  the       NUMA 
+Grecians  dyd  write  in  tables.     But  bicause  in  his  life  time  POMPILIUS 
+he  had  taught  the  priestes,  the  substaunce  of  the  whole  con- 
+teined  in  the  same :  he  willed  the  holy  tables  which  he  had 
+written,  should  be  buried  with  his  bodie.     For  he  thought  it 
+not  reasonable  that  so  holy  matters  should  be  kept  by  dead 
+letters  and  writings,  but  by  mens  manners  and  exercises. 
+And  he  followed  herein  they  saye,  the  Pythagorians,  who  Why  the 
+would  not  put  their  worckes  in  writing,  but  dyd  printe  the  Pythagorians 
+knowledge  of  them  in  their  memories,  whom  they  knew  to  !^    nothing 
+be  worthy  men,  and  that  without  any  writing  at  all.     And 
+if  they  had  tauglit  any  manner  of  persone  the  hidden  rules 
+and  secretes  of  Geometrie,  which  had  not  bene  worthy  of 
+them :    then   they    sayed   the   goddes   by   manifest   tokens 
+would  threaten,  to  revenge   such    sacriledge   and  impietie, 
+with  some  great  destruction  and  miserie.     Therefore,  seeing 
+so  many  things  agreable,  and  altogether  like  betweene  Numa 
+and    Pythagoras,  I   easely   pardon   those   which   mainteine 
+their  opinion,  that  Numa  and  Pythagoras  were  familiarly 
+acquainted,  and  conversant  together.     Valerius  Antias  the 
+historian  writeth,  there  were   twelve   bookes   written   con-  12  bookes  of 
+cerning  the  office  of  Priestes,  and  twelve  other  conteining  priesthood, 
+the  philosophic  of  the  Grecians.     And  that  foure  hundred  12  bookes  of 
+yeres  after  (in  the  same  yere  when  Publius  Cornelius,  and  philosophie. 
+Marcus  Bebius  were  consuls)  there  fell  a  great  rage  of  waters 
+and  raine,  which  opened  the  earthe,  and  discovered  these 
+coffines :    and  the  liddes   and  covers   thereof  being  caried 
+awaye,  they  founde  the  one  altogether  voyde,  having   no 
+manner  of  likelyhoode,  or  token  of  a  bodie  that  had  layen 
+in  it :    and  in  the  other  they  founde  these  bookes,  which 
+were  delivered  unto  one  named  Petilius  (at  that  time  Praetor) 
+who  had  the  charge  to  reade  them  over,  and  to  make  the 
+reporte  of  them.     But  he  having  perused  them  over,  declared 
+to  the  Senate,  that  he  thought  it  not  convenient  the  matters 
+conteined  in   them   should   be   published  unto  the   simple 
+people  :  and  for  that  cause  they  were  caried  into  the  market 
+place,  and  there  were  openly  burnte.     Surely  it  is  a  common  Good  men 
+thing,  that  happeneth  unto  all  good   and  just   men,  that  pr^iysed  after 
+they  are  farre  more  praysed  and  esteemed  after  their  death,  *        death. 
+
+197 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+NUMA        then  before  :  bicause  that  envie  doth  not  long  continue  after 
+POMPILIUS  their  death,  and  oftentimes  it  dieth  before  them.     But  not- 
+The  mis- 
+fortunes of 
+Numaes 
+
+
+successours. 
+Hostilius. 
+
+
+withstanding,  the   misfortunes  which  chaunced  afterwardes 
+unto  the  five  Kings  which  raigned  at  Rome  after  Numa,  have 
+made  his  honour  shine,  with  much  more  noble  glorie  then 
+before.     For  the  last  of  them  was  driven  out  of  his  King- 
+dome,  and  died  in  exile,  after  he  was  very  olde.     And  of 
+the  other  foure,  none  of  them  died  their  naturall  death,  but 
+three  of  them  were  killed  by  treason.     And  Tullus  Hostilius 
+*"  which  raigned  after  Numa,  deriding,  and  contemning  the 
+most  parte  of  his  good  and  holy  institutions,  and  chiefly  his 
+devotion  towardes  the  goddes,  as  a  thing  which  made  men 
+lowly  and  fainte  harted  :  dyd  assone  as  ever  he  came  to  be 
+King,  turne  all  his  subjects  hartes  to  the  warres.     But  this 
+mad  humour  of  his,  continued  not  long.    For  he  was  plagued 
+with  a  straunge,  and  most  grievous  disease  that  followed  him, 
+which  brought  him  to  chaunge  his  minde,  and  dyd  farre  other- 
+wise turne  his  contempt  of  Religion,  into  an  overfearfull  super- 
+stition, which  dyd  nothing  yet  resemble  the  true  Religion  and 
+devotion  of  Numa  :  and  besides,  he  infected  others  with 
+his  contagious  errour,  through  the  inconvenience 
+which  happened  unto  him  at  his  death.    For  he 
+was  stricken  and  burnt  with  lightning. 
+
+
+198 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+
+THE  COMPARISON  OF 
+LYCURGUS  WITH  NUMA 
+
+
+HUS  having  written  the  lives  of  Lycurgus 
+and  Numa,  the  matter  requireth,  though 
+it  be  somewhat  harde  to  doe,  that  we 
+comparing  the  one  with  the  other,  should 
+set  out  the  difference  betweene  them.  For 
+in  those  things  wherein  they  were  like  of 
+condition,  their  deedes  doe  shewe  it  suffi- 
+ciently. As  in  their  temperaunce,  their 
+devotion  to  the  goddes,  their  wisdome  in  governing,  and 
+their  discreete  handling  of  their  people,  by  making  them 
+beleeve  that  the  goddes  had  revealed  the  lawes  unto  them, 
+which  they  established.  And  nowe  to  come  unto  their 
+qualities,  which  are  diversely,  and  severally  commended  in 
+either  of  them.  Their  first  qualitie  is,  that  Numa  accepted 
+the  Kingdome,  and  Lycurgus  gave  it  up.  The  one  receyved 
+it,  not  seeking  for  it :  and  the  other  having  it  in  his  handes, 
+did  restore  it  againe.  The  one  being  a  straunger,  and  a 
+private  man :  was  by  straungers  elected  and  chosen,  their 
+lorde  and  King.  The  other  being  in  possession  a  King, 
+made  him  selfe  againe  a  private  persone.  Suer  it  is  a 
+goodly  thing  to  obtaine  a  Realme  by  justice  :  but  it  is  a 
+goodlier  thing  to  esteeme  justice  above  a  Realme.  Vertue 
+brought  the  one  to  be  in  such  reputation,  that  he  was  judged 
+worthy  to  be  chosen  a  King :  and  vertue  bred  so  noble  a 
+minde  in  the  other,  that  he  esteemed  not  to  be  a  King. 
+Their  second  qualitie  is,  that  like  as  in  an  instrument  of 
+musicke,  the  one  of  them  did  tune  and  wrest  up  tlie  slacke 
+stringes  which  were  in  Sparta :  so  the  other  slackened,  and 
+set  them  lower,  which  were  to  highe  mounted  in  Rome. 
+Wherein  Lycurgus  difficulty  was  the  greater.  For  he  did 
+not  persuade  his  cittizens,  to  plucke  of  their  armour  and 
+curates,  nor  to  laye  by  their  swordes :  but  only  to  leave 
+their  golde  and  silver,  to  forsake  their  softe  beddes,  their 
+
+199 
+
+
+Tlie  vertues 
+of  Numa  and 
+Lycurgus 
+were  alike, 
+but  their 
+deeds  divers. 
+
+
+What  things 
+were  harde  to 
+Lycurgus. 
+
+
+LYCURGLS 
+
+AND 
+
+NUMA 
+
+
+Slaves  sat 
+with  their 
+masters  at 
+Saturn  es 
+feasts, 
+^lacrob. 
+Satu}'.  lib.  I. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+fine  wrought  tables,  and  other  curious  riche  furniture,  and 
+not  to  leave  of  the  travell  of  warres,  to  geve  them  selves 
+only  unto  feastes,  sacrifices,  and  playes.  But  to  the  contrarie, 
+to  geve  up  bancketing  and  feasting,  and  continually  to 
+take  paynes  in  the  warres,  yelding  their  bodies  to  all  kinde 
+of  paynes.  By  which  meanes,  the  one  for  the  love  and 
+reverence  they  did  beare  him,  easely  persuaded  all  that  he 
+would :  and  the  other,  by  putting  him  selfe  in  daunger,  and 
+being  hurte  also,  obtained  not  without  great  travell  and 
+adventure,  the  end  of  his  intended  purpose  and  desire. 
+Xuma  his  muse  was  so  gentle,  loving,  and  curteous,  that 
+the  manners  of  his  cittizens,  which  before  were  furious  and 
+violent,  were  now  so  tractable  and  civill,  that  he  taught 
+them  to  love  peace  and  justice.  And  to  the  contrarie,  if 
+they  will  compell  me  to  number  amongest  the  lawes  and 
+ordinaunces  of  Lycurgus,  that  which  we  have  written  touch- 
+ing the  Ilotes,  which  was  a  barbarous  cruell  thing :  I  must 
+of  force  confesse  that  Numa  was  muche  wiser,  more  gentle, 
+and  civill  in  his  lawes,  considering  that  even  unto  those 
+which  in  deede  were  borne  slaves,  he  gave  some  litle 
+tast  of  honour,  and  sweetnes  of  libertie,  having  ordained, 
+that  in  the  feastes  of  Saturne,  they  should  sit  doAvne  at 
+meate,  at  their  masters  owne  table.  Some  holde  opinion, 
+that  this  custome  was  brought  in  by  king  Numa :  who  willed 
+that  those,  which  through  their  labour  in  tillage  brought  in 
+much  fruite,  should  have  some  pleasure  thereof  to  make 
+good  cheere  with  the  first  fruites  of  the  same.  Other 
+imagine,  that  it  is  yet  a  token  and  remembraunce  of  the 
+equalitie,  Avhich  was  emongest  men  in  the  world  in  Saturnes 
+time,  when  there  was  neither  master  nor  servaunte,  but  all 
+men  were  alike  equall,  as  brethern  or  kinsemen.  To  con- 
+clude, it  seemeth  either  of  them  tooke  a  direct  course, 
+thought  best  to  them  selves,  to  frame  their  people  unto 
+temperaunce,  and  to  be  contented  with  their  owne.  But  for 
+their  other  vertues,  itappeareth  that  the  one  loved  warre  best, 
+and  the  other  justice  :  onles  it  were  that  men  would  saye,  that 
+for  the  diversitie  of  the  nature  or  custome  of  their  people 
+(which  were  almost  contrarie  in  manners)  they  were  both 
+compelled  to  use  also  contrary  and  divers  meanes  from  other. 
+200 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+For  it  was  not  of  a  fainte  harte,  that  Numa  tooke  from  his  LYCURGUS 
+people  the  use  of  armes,  and  desire  to  be  in  warres :   but  ^^'^ 
+
+it  was  to  the  ende  they  should  not  doe  any  wrong  to  others.       NUMA 
+Neither    did    Lycurgus    also    studie    to    make    his    people  Divers  causes 
+souldiers  and  warlike,  to  hurte  others :  but  for  feare  rather  of  the  diver- 
+that  others  should  hurte  them.     And   so,  to   cut  of  the  ^J^jions  oT*^" 
+excesse  in  the  one,  and  to  supply  the  defect  of  the  other :  ^uma  and 
+they  were  both  enforced  to  bring  in  a  straunge  manner  of  Lycurgus. 
+government.      Furthermore,  touching  their   severall   kinde 
+of  government,  and  dividing  of  their  people  into  states  and 
+companies  :  that  of  Numa  was  marvelous  meane  and  base, 
+and  framed  to  the  liking  of  the  meanest  people,  making  a 
+bodie  of  a  cittie,  and  a  people  compounded  together  of  all 
+sortes,  as  goldesmithes,  minstrells,  founders,  shoemakers,  and  Description  of 
+of  all  sortes  of  craftes  men  and  occupations  together.     But  *^^^'*  people, 
+that  of  Lycurgus,  was  directly  contrarie :  for  his  was  more 
+severe  and  tyrannicall,  in  governing  of  the  nobility,  cast- 
+ing all  craftes  and  base  occupations  upon  bondemen  and 
+straungers,  and  putting  into  the  handes  of  his  cittizens  the 
+shield  and  launce,  suffering  them  to  exercise  no  other  arte  or 
+science,  but  the  arte  and  discipline  of  warres,  as  the  true 
+ministers  of  Mars :   which  all  their  life  time  never  knewe 
+other  science,  but  only  learned  to  obey  their  captaines,  and 
+to  commaund  their  enemies.     For  to  have  any  occupation, 
+to  buye  and  sell,  or  to  trafficke,  free  men  were  expressely 
+forbidden :    bicause   they  should  wholy  and   absolutely  be 
+free.     And  all  sciences  to  get  money  was  lawfull  for  slaves, 
+and  the  Ilotes :  being  counted  for  as  vile  an  occupation,  as 
+to  dresse  meate,  and  to  be  a  scullian  of  a  kitchin.     Numa 
+put  not  this  difference  amongest  his  people,  but  only  tooke 
+away  covetous  desire  to  be  riche  by  warres :  but  otherwise, 
+he  did  not  forbid  them  to  get  goodes  by  any  other  lawfull 
+meanes,  neither  tooke  any  regarde  to  bring  all  to  equalitie, 
+and  to  be  a  like  wealthy,  but  suffered  every  man  to  get 
+what  he  could,  taking  no  order  to  prevent  povertie,  which 
+crept  in,  and  spred  farre  in  his  cittie.     Which  he  should 
+have  looked  unto  at  the  beginning,  at  that  time  when  there 
+was  not  too  great  an  unequalitie  amongest  them,  and  that 
+his  cittizens  for  substaunce  were  in  manner  equall  one  with 
+2C  201 
+
+
+LYCURGUS 
+
+AND 
+
+NUMA 
+
+
+Reasou  for 
+manages. 
+
+
+Numaes  order 
+for  maydens 
+the  better. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+another :  for  then  was  the  time  when  he  should  have  made 
+head  against  avarice,  to  have  stopped  the  mischieves  and  in- 
+conveniences, which  fell  out  afterwards,  and  they  were  not 
+litle.  For  that  only  was  the  fountaine  and  roote,  of  the 
+most  parte  of  the  greatest  evills  and  mischieves,  which 
+happened  afterwardes  in  Rome.  And  as  touching  the  divi- 
+sion of  goodes :  neither  ought  Lycurgus  to  be  blamed  for 
+doing  it,  nor  Numa  for  that  he  did  it  not.  For  this  equality 
+unto  the  one,  was  a  ground  and  foundation  of  his  common 
+wealth,  which  he  afterwards  instituted :  and  unto  other,  it 
+could  not  be.  For  this  division  being  made  not  long  before 
+the  time  of  his  predecessour,  there  was  no  great  neede  to 
+chaunge  the  first,  the  which  (as  it  is  likely)  remained  yet  in 
+full  perfection.  As  touching  mariages,  and  their  children  to 
+be  in  common,  both  the  one  and  the  other  wisely  sought  to 
+take  awaye  all  occasion  of  jealousie :  but  yet  they  tooke  not 
+both  one  course.  For  the  Romaine  husband,  having  children 
+enough  to  his  contentation  :  if  another  that  lacked  children 
+came  unto  him,  to  praye  him  to  lende  him  his  wife,  he  might 
+graunte  her  unto  him,  and  it  was  in  him  to  geve  her  alto- 
+gether, or  to  lende  her  for  a  time,  and  to  take  her  after- 
+wardes againe.  But  the  Laconian,  keeping  his  wife  in  his 
+house,  and  the  mariage  remaining  whole  and  unbroken, 
+might  let  out  his  wife  to  any  man  that  would  require  her 
+to  have  children  by  her:  naye  furthermore,  many  (as  we 
+have  told  you  before)  did  them  selves  intreat  men,  by  whom 
+they  thought  to  have  a  trimme  broode  of  children,  and  layed 
+them  with  their  wives.  What  difference,  I  praye  you  was 
+betwene  these  two  customes  ?  saving  that  the  custome  of 
+the  Laconians  shewed,  that  the  husbands  were  nothing 
+angrie,  nor  grieved  with  their  wives  for  those  things,  which 
+for  sorrowe  and  jealousie  doth  rent  the  hartes  of  most 
+maried  men  in  the  world.  And  that  of  the  Romaines  was 
+a  simplicitie  somwhat  more  shamefast,  which  to  cover  it,  was 
+shadowed  yet  with  the  cloke  of  matrimonie,  and  contract  of 
+mariage :  confessing  that  to  use  wife  and  children  by  halfes 
+together,  was  a  thing  most  intollerable  for  him.  Further- 
+more, the  keeping  of  maidens  to  be  maried  by  Numaes  order, 
+was  much  straighter  and  more  honorable  for  womanhed  :  and 
+202 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+Lycvirgus  order   having  to  much  scope   and  libertie,  gave   LYCURGUS 
+Poets  occasion  to  speake,  and  to  geve  them  surnames  not  and 
+
+very  honest.      As    Ibycus  called    them   Phcenomeridas :    to       NUMA 
+saye,  thighe  showei*s :  and  Andromanes:    to  saye  manhood. 
+And  Euripides  sayeth  also  of  them, 
+
+Good  nut  browne  girles  which  left,  their  fathers  house  at  large, 
+and  sought  for  young  mens  companie,  and  tooke  their  ware  in 
+charge : 
+
+And  shewed  their  thighes  all  bare,  the  taylour  did  them  wrong, 
+on  eche  side  open  were  their  cotes,  the  sljrtts  were  all  to  long. 
+
+And  in  deede  to  saye  truely,  the  sides  of  their  petticotes 
+were  not  sowed  beneath  :  so  that  as  they  went,  they  shewed 
+their  thighes  naked  and  bare.  The  which  Sophocles  doth 
+easely  declare  by  these  verses  : 
+
+The  songe  which  you  shall  singe,  shalbe  the  sonnet  sayde, 
+
+by  Hermione  lusty  lasse,  that  strong  and  sturdy  mayde  : 
+Which  trust  her  petticote,  about  her  midle  shorte, 
+
+and  set  to  shewe  her  naked  hippes,  in  francke  and  frendly  sorte. 
+
+And  therefore  it  is  sayed,  the  Lacon  wives  were  bolde,  TheLaconians 
+manly,  and  stowte  against  their  husbands,  namely  the  first,  were  to  manly. 
+For  they  were  wholy  mistresses  in  the  house,  and  abroade : 
+yea  they  had  law  on  their  side  also,  to  utter  their  mindes 
+franckly  concerning  the  chiefest  matters.     But  Numa  ever 
+reserved  the  honour  and  dignitie  unto  the  women,  which  was 
+left  them  by  Romulus  in  his  time,  when  their  husbands,  after 
+they  had  taken  them  awaye  perforce,  disposed  them  selves  to 
+use  them  as  gentely  as  possibly  they  could :  nevertheles,  he 
+added  otherwise  thereto,  great  honesty,  and  tooke  awaye  all  The  Romaine 
+curiositie  from  them,  and  taught  them  sobrietie,  and  did  women  very 
+inure  them  to  speake  litle.     For  he  did  utterly  forbid  them  "modest, 
+wine,  and  did  prohibite  them  to  speake,  although  it  were  for 
+things   necessarie,  onles   it   were   in  the   presence   of  their 
+husbands.     In   so   much   as  it  is  reported,  that  a  woman 
+chauncing  one  daye  to  pleade  her  cause  in  persone,  openly 
+before  the  judges:  the  Senate  hearing  of  it,  did  send  imme- 
+diately unto  the  oracle  of  Apollo,  to  know  what  that  did 
+prognosticate  to  the  cittie.      And  therfore  Numa  thought 
+
+203 
+
+
+LYCURGUS 
+
+AND 
+
+NUMA 
+
+
+The  first 
+divorce  at 
+Rome. 
+
+
+HoAve  much 
+education  and 
+discipline  is 
+worthe. 
+
+Arist.  i)olit.  8. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+the  memorie  of  the  naughty  women,  would  much  commend 
+the  great  humihtie,  gentlenes,  and  obedience  of  the  good.  For 
+Hke  as  our  Grecian  historiographers  doe  note  those  which  were 
+the  first  that  killed  any  of  their  cittizens,  or  have  fought  with 
+their  brethern,  or  have  killed  their  fathers  or  mothers :  even 
+so  the  Romames  doe  note  that  Spurius  Car\'ilius  was  the  first 
+which  forsooke  his  wife,  two  hundred  and  thirtie  yeres  after 
+the  first  foundation  of  Rome,  which  was  never  done  by  any 
+before.  And  that  the  wife  of  one  Pinarius,  called  Thalaea, 
+was  the  first  which  ever  brawled  or  quarrelled  with  her  mother 
+in  lawe  called  Gegania,  in  the  time  when  Tarquine  surnamed 
+the  prowde  raigned :  so  well  and  honestly  were  the  orders  of 
+Numa  devised  concerning  mariage.  Moreover,  the  age  and 
+time  of  marying  of  maydes,  which  both  the  one  and  the 
+other  ordeined :  doth  agree  with  the  rest  of  their  education. 
+For  Lycurgus  would  not  that  they  should  be  maried,  till 
+they  were  of  good  yeres,  and  women  growen  :  to  the  ende 
+that  they  knowing  the  company  of  man  at  such  time  as 
+nature  requireth,  it  should  be  a  beginning  of  their  pleasure 
+and  love,  and  not  of  griefe  and  hate,  when  she  should  be 
+compelled  unto  it  before  time  agreable  by  nature,  and 
+bicause  their  bodies  also  should  be  more  stronge  and  able  to 
+beare  children,  and  to  indure  the  mothers  painefull  throwes 
+and  travell  in  childe  bearing,  considering  they  are  maried  to 
+no  other  ende,  but  to  beare  children.  But  the  Romaines  to 
+the  contrarie,  doe  marye  them  at  twelve  yeres  of  age,  and 
+under :  saying,  that  by  this  meanes  their  bodies  and  manners 
+be  wholy  theirs,  which  doe  marye  them,  being  assured  that 
+no  body  els  could  touch  them.  By  this  reason  it  is  manifest, 
+that  the  one  is  more  naturall,  to  make  them  strong  to  beare 
+children  :  and  the  other  more  morall,  to  geve  them  the 
+forme  and  manner  of  conditions,  which  a  man  would  have 
+them  to  kepe  all  their  life  time.  Moreover  touching  orders 
+for  education  of  children,  that  they  should  be  brought  up, 
+instructed,  and  taught,  under  the  selfe  same  masters  and 
+govemours,  which  should  have  an  eye  to  make  them  drincke, 
+eate,  playe,  and  exercise  them  selves  honestly,  and  orderly 
+together :  Numa  made  no  more  provision  for  the  same,  then 
+the  least  maker  of  lawes  that  ever  was,  and  nothing  in  com- 
+204 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+parison  of  Lycurgus.     For  Numa  left  the  parents  at  libertie,   LYCURGUS 
+to  use  their  discretion  (according  unto  their  covetousnes  or  and 
+
+necessitie)  to  cause  their  children  to  be  brought  up  as  they  NUMA 
+thought  good  :  whether  they  would  put  them  to  be  labourers, 
+carpinters,  founders,  or  minstrells.  As  if  they  should  not 
+frame  the  manners  of  children,  and  facion  them  from  their 
+cradell  all  to  one  ende :  but  should  be  as  it  were  like  pas- 
+sengers in  one  shippe,  which  being  there,  some  for  one  busines, 
+other  for  another  purpose,  but  all  to  divers  endes,  doe  never 
+medle  one  with  another,  but  in  a  rough  storme  or  tempest, 
+when  every  man  is  affrayed  of  his  ovme  life.  For  otherwise, 
+no  man  careth  but  for  him  selfe.  And  other  makers  of  lawes 
+also,  are  to  be  borne  withall,  if  any  thing  hath  scaped 
+them  through  ignoraunce,  or  some  time  through  lacke  of 
+sufficient  power  and  authoritie.  But  a  wise  philosopher, 
+having  receyved  a  realme  of  people  newly  gathered  together, 
+which  dyd  contrary  him  in  nothing :  whereto  should  he  most 
+plye  his  studie  and  indevour,  but  to  cause  children  to  be  well 
+brought  up,  and  to  make  young  men  exercise  them  selves, 
+to  the  ende  they  should  not  differ  in  manners,  nor  that  they 
+should  be  troublesome,  by  their  divers  manner  of  bringing 
+up,  but  that  they  should  all  agree  together,  for  that  they 
+had  bene  trained  from  their  childhood  unto  one  selfe  trade, 
+and  facioned  under  one  selfe  patteme  of  vertue  ?  That  good 
+education,  besides  other  commodities,  dyd  also  serve  to  How  Lycur- 
+preserve  Lycurgus  lawes.  For  the  feare  of  their  othe  which  gus  lawes  wen 
+they  had  made,  had  bene  of  small  effect,  if  he  had  not  through  sta^ished. 
+institution,  and  education  (as  it  were)  dyed  in  wolle  the 
+manners  of  children,  and  had  not  made  them  from  their 
+nources  brestes  in  manner,  sucke  the  luice  and  love  of  his 
+lawes,  and  civill  ordinaunces.  And  this  was  of  suche  force, 
+that  for  the  space  of  five  hundred  yeres  and  more,  Lycurgus 
+chief  lawes  and  ordinaunces  remained  in  full  perfection,  as  a 
+deepe  woded  dye,  which  went  to  the  bottome,  and  pearced 
+into  the  tender  wolle.  Contrariwise,  that  which  was  Numaes  ^Vliy  Numaes 
+chief  ende  and  purpose,  to  continew  Rome  in  peace  and  orders  dyed, 
+amitie,  dyed  by  and  by  with  him.  For  he  was  no  soner 
+dead,  but  they  opened  both  the  gates  of  the  temple  of  lanus, 
+which  he  so  carefully  had  kept  shut  all  his  reigne,  as  if  in 
+
+205 
+
+
+AND 
+
+NUMA 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+LYCURGUS  deede  he  had  kept  in  warres  there,  under  locke  and  keye,  and 
+they  filled  all  Italic  with  murder  and  bloude :  and  this  his 
+godly,  holy,  and  just  government  which  his  Realme  enjo^-ed 
+all  his  time,  did  not  last  long  after,  bicause  it  had  not  the 
+bonde  of  education,  and  the  discipline  of  children  which 
+should  mainteine  it.  Why,  maye  a  man  saye  to  me  here : 
+Hath  not  Rome  excelled  still,  and  prevailed  more  and  more 
+in  chevalrie  ?  This  question  requireth  a  long  aunswer,  and 
+specially  unto  such  men,  as  place  felicitie  in  riches,  in  posses- 
+sions, and  in  the  greatness  of  empire,  rather  then  in  the 
+quiet  safety,  peace,  and  concorde  of  a  common  weale :  and 
+in  clemency  and  justice,  joyned  with  contentation.  Never- 
+theles,  howsoever  it  was,  that  maketh  for  Lycurgus  also,  that 
+the  Romaines,  after  they  had  chaunged  the  state  which  they 
+had  of  Numa,  dyd  so  marvelously  increase  and  growe  mightie  : 
+and  that  the  Lacedasmonians  to  the  contrarie,  so  soone  as 
+they  beganne  to  breake  Lycurgus  lawes,  being  of  great 
+authoritie  and  swaye,  fell  afterwards  to  be  of  small  accompt. 
+So  that  having  lost  the  soveraintie  and  commaundement 
+over  Grece,  they  stoode  in  great  hazarde  also  to  be  over- 
+throwen  for  ever.  But  in  trothe  it  was  some  divine  thing  in 
+Numa,  that  he  being  a  meere  straunger,  the  Romames  dyd 
+seeke  him,  to  make  him  King,  and  that  he  could  so  chaunge 
+all,  and  rule  a  whole  cittie  as  he  listed  (not  yet  joyned 
+together)  without  neede  of  any  force  or  violence :  as  it  was 
+in  Lycurgus,  to  be  assisted  with  the  best  of  the  citty,  in 
+resisting  the  commons  of  Lacedsemon,  but  he  could 
+never  otherwise  have  kept  them  in  peace,  and 
+made  them  love  together,  but  by  his  only 
+wisdom  and  justice. 
+
+
+Why  Numa 
+is  to  be  pre- 
+ferred before 
+Lycurgus. 
+
+
+THE  ENDE  OF  NUMA  POMPILIUS  LIFE 
+
+
+206 
+
+
+^"^ 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+
+THE  LIFE  OF  SOLON 
+
+
+Great  friend 
+shipp  betwix 
+Solon  and 
+Pisistratus. 
+
+
+IDYMUS  the  Grammarian,  in  a  litle 
+booke  that  he  wrote  and  dedicated  unto 
+Asclepiades,  touching  the  tables  of  the 
+lawes  of  Solon,  alleageth  the  wordes  of 
+one  Philocles,  in  which  he  speaketh  against 
+the  common  opinion  of  those  that  have 
+written,  that  Solons  father  was  called  Solonslinag( 
+Euphorion.  For  all  other  writers  agree, 
+that  he  was  the  sonne  of  Execestides,  a  man  but  reasonably 
+to  live,  although  otherwise  he  was  of  the  noblest  and  most 
+auncient  house  of  the  cittie  of  Athens.  For  of  his  fathers 
+side,  he  was  descended  of  king  Codrus :  and  for  his  mother, 
+Heraclides  Ponticus  writeth,  she  was  cosin  germaine  unto 
+Pisistratus  mother.  For  this  cause  even  from  the  beginning 
+there  was  great  friendshippe  betwene  them,  partely  for  their 
+kinred,  and  partely  also  for  the  curtesie,  and  beawtie  of 
+Pisistratus,  with  whom  it  is  reported  Solon  on  a  time  was  in 
+love.  Afterwards  they  fortuned  to  fall  at  jarre  one  with  the 
+other,  about  matter  of  state  and  government :  yet  this  square 
+bred  no  violent  inconvenience  betwene  them,  but  they 
+reserved  in  their  hartes  still  their  auncient  amitie,  which 
+continued  the  memorie  of  their  love,  as  a  great  fire  doth  a 
+burning  flame.  That  Solon  was  no  stayed  man  to  withstand 
+beawtie,  nor  any  great  doer  to  prevaile  in  love,  it  is  manifest 
+to  all,  aswell  by  other  poeticall  writings  that  he  hath  made, 
+as  by  a  lawe  of  his  owne :  wherein  he  dyd  forbid  bondmen 
+to  perfume  them  selves,  or  to  be  lovers  of  children.  WTio 
+placed  this  lawe  among  honest  matters,  and  commendable : 
+as  allowing  it  to  the  better  sorte,  and  forbidding  it  to  the 
+basest.  They  saye  also  that  Pisistratus  selfe  was  in  love  with 
+Charmus,  and  that  he  dyd  set  up  the  litle  image  of  love, 
+which  is  in  Academia,  where  they  were  wont  to  light  the 
+holy  candell.  But  Solons  father  (as  Hermippus  writeth) 
+having  spent  his  goodes  in  liberalitie,  and  deedes  of  curtesie, 
+though  he  might  easely  have  bene  relieved  at  divers  mens 
+
+207 
+
+
+A  statute  foi 
+bondmen. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+
+Solon  gave 
+him  selfe  in 
+
+
+SOLON  handes  with  money,  he  was  yet  ashamed  to  take  any,  bicause 
+he  came  of  a  house  which  was  wont  rather  to  geve  and  relieve 
+others,  then  to  take  them  selves  :  so  being  yet  a  young  man, 
+he  devised  to  trade  marchaundise.  Howbeit  other  saye, 
+that  Solon  travelled  countries,  rather  to  see  the  worlde,  and 
+to  learne :  then  to  trafficke,  or  ga,yne.  For  sure  he  was  very 
+niarchaundise  ^^^i^'^us  of  knowledge,  as  appeareth  manifestly  :  for  that 
+being  nowe  olde,  he  commonly  used  to  saye  this  verse : 
+
+I  growe  olde,  learning  still. 
+
+Also  he  was  not  covetously  bent,  nor  loved  riches  to 
+much  :  for  he  sayd  in  one  place : 
+
+Who  so  hath  goodes,  and  golde  enough  at  call, 
+
+freat  heards  of  beastes,  and  flocks  in  many  a  folde, 
+oth  horse  and  mule,  yea  store  of  come  and  all, 
+that  maye  content  eche  man  above  the  mowlde  : 
+no  richer  is,  for  all  those  heapes  and  hoordes, 
+then  he  which  hathe,  sufficiently  to  feede, 
+and  clothe  his  corpes,  with  such  as  god  afoordes. 
+But  if  is  joye,  and  chief  delight  doe  breede,  ' 
+
+for  to  beholde  the  fayer  and  heavenly  face, 
+of  some  swete  wife,  which  is  adornde  with  grace  : 
+or  els  some  childe,  of  beawty  fayre  and  bright, 
+then  hath  he  cause  (in  deede)  of  deepe  delight. 
+
+And  in  another  place  also  he  sayeth  : 
+
+In  deede  I  doe  desii-e,  some  wealthe  to  have  at  will : 
+but  not  unles  the  same  be  got,  by  faithfull  dealing  still. 
+
+For  suer  who  so  desires  by  wickednes  to  thrive  : 
+
+shall  finde  that  justice  from  such  goodes,  will  justly  him 
+deprive. 
+
+There  is  no  law  forbiddeth  an  honest  man,  or  gentleman, 
+greedily  to  scrape  goods  together,  and  more  then  may  suffice  : 
+and  likewise  to  get  sufficient  to  mainteine  one  withall,  and  to 
+defraye  all  needefull  charges.  In  those  dayes  no  state  was 
+discommended,  as  sayeth  Hesiodus,  nor  any  arte  or  science 
+made  any  difference  betwene  men  :  but  marchaundise  they 
+thought  an  honorable  state,  as  that  which  delivered  meanes, 
+to  traffike  into  straunge  and  farre  countries,  to  get  acquaint- 
+aunce  with  states,  to  procure  the  love  of  princes,  and  chiefly 
+to  gather  the  experience  of  the  world.    So  that  there  have  bene 
+
+208 
+
+
+Solons  judg- 
+mentofriches. 
+
+
+The  commo- 
+dities of  mar- 
+chaundise. 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+marchaunts,  which  heretofore  have  bene  founders  of  great     SOLON 
+citties :    as   he   which   first   buylt    Massilia,   after   he    had  A  marchaun 
+obteined  the  friendshippe  of  the  Gaules,  dwelKng  by  the  ^^^^*1.^^ 
+river  of  Rhosne.     And  they  say  also,  that  Thales  Milesius  Massilia. 
+the  wise,  did  traffike  marchaundise,  and  that  Hippocrates  the  Thales. 
+mathematike  did  even  so :  and  likewise  that  Plato  travelling  Hippocrates 
+into  Egipt,  did  beare  the  whole  charges  of  his  iomey,  with  "^^''^-  ^" 
+the  gaines  he  made  of  the  sale  of  oile  he  caried  thither. 
+They  remember  also,   that    Solon  learned  to  be  lavish  in 
+expence,    to    fare    delicately,    and   to    speake    wantonly   of 
+pleasures  in  his   Poemes,  somwhat   more   licentiously  then 
+became  the  gravity  of  a  Philosopher :  only  bicause  he  was 
+brought  up  in  the  trade  of  marchaundise,  wherein  for  that 
+men  are  marvelous  subject  to  great  losses  and  daungers,  they 
+seeke  otherwiles  good  chere  to  drive  these  cares  awaye,  and 
+libertie  to  make  much  of  them  selves.     Yet  it  appeareth  by 
+these  verses,  that  Solon  accompted  him  selfe  rather  in  the 
+number  of  the  poore,  than  of  the  riche. 
+
+Riche  men  (oftimes)  in  lewdest  lives  doe  range.  Poverty  wit 
+
+and  often  seene,  that  vertuous  men  be  poore  :  vertue  bettt 
+
+Yet  would  the  good,  their  goodnes  never  chaunge  than  riches, 
+
+with  lewd  estate,  although  their  wealthe  be  more. 
+
+For  vertue  stands  allwayes,  both  firme  and  stable  : 
+When  riches  rove,  and  seldome  are  durable. 
+
+This  Poetry  at  the  beginning  he  used  but  for  pleasure, 
+and  when  he  had  leysure,  writing  no  matter  of  importaunce 
+in  his  verses.    Afterwards  he  dyd  set  out  many  grave  matters  How  Solon 
+of  philosophie,  and  the  most  parte  of  such  things  as  he  had  »ised  his 
+devised  before,  in  the  government  of  a  common  weale,  which  P'^^*"®- 
+he  dyd  not  for  historie  or  memories  sake,  but  only  of  a 
+pleasure  to  discourse :   for  he  shew  eth  the  reasons  of  that 
+he  dyd,  and  in  some  places  he  exhorteth,  chideth,  and  re- 
+proveth  the  Athenians.      And  some  affirme  also  he  went 
+about  to  \vrite  his  lawes  and  ordinaunces  in  verse,  and  doe 
+recite  his  preface,  which  was  this  : 
+
+Vouchesave  O  mighty  love,  of  heaven  and  earth  highe  King  : 
+to  graunt  good  fortune  to  my  lawes,  and  beasts  in  everie  thing. 
+
+And  that  their  glorie  growe,  in  such  triumphaunt  wise, 
+
+as  maye  remaine  in  fame  for  aye,  which  lives  and  never  dies. 
+
+2  D  209 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+SOLON  He  chiefly  delited  in  morall  philosophic,  which  treated  of 
+
+Solon  delited  government  and  common  weales :  as  the  most  parte  of  the 
+in  morall,  but  wise  men  dyd  of  those  times.  But  for  natural!  philosophic, 
+notinnaturall  j^g  ^y^g  ygj.y  grosse  and  simple,  as  appeareth  by  these  verses. 
+
+The  clattering  hayle,  and  softly  falling  snowe 
+
+doe  breede  in  ayer,  and  fall  from  cloudes  on  hye. 
+The  dreadfull  clappes,  which  thunderbolts  doe  throwe, 
+
+doe  come  from  heaven,  and  lightninges  bright  in  skye. 
+The  sea  it  selfe  by  boysterous  blastes  dothe  rore 
+
+which  (were  it  not  provoked  so  full  sore) 
+Would  be  both  calme  and  quiet  for  to  passe, 
+
+as  any  element  that  ever  was. 
+
+So  in  eifect  there  was  none  but  Thales  alone  of  all  the  seven 
+wise  men  of  Grece,  who  searched  further  the  contemplation 
+of  things  in  common  use  among  men,  than  he.  For  setting 
+him  a  parte,  all  the  others  got  the  name  of  wisdome,  only  for 
+their  understanding  in  matters  of  state  and  government.  It 
+is  reported  that  they  met  on  a  daye  all  seven  together  in  the 
+cittie  of  Delphes,  and  another  time  in  the  cittie  of  Corinthe, 
+where  Periander  got  them  together  at  a  feast  that  he  made  to 
+the  other  sixe.  But  that  which  most  increased  their  glorie, 
+and  made  their  fame  most  spoken  of,  was  the  sending  backe 
+againe  of  the  three  footed  stoole  when  they  all  had  refused 
+it,  and  turned  it  over  one  to  another  with  great  humanitie. 
+For  the  tale  is,  howe  certaine  fisher  men  of  the  He  of  Co, 
+cast  their  nettes  into  the  sea,  and  certaine  straungers  passing 
+by,  that  came  from  the  cittie  of  Miletum,  did  buye  their 
+draught  of  fishe  at  adventure,  before  the  net  was  drawen. 
+Hellens  three  And  when  they  drue  it  up,  there  came  up  in  the  net  a  three 
+footed  stoole  footed  stoole  of  massy  gold,  which  men  saye,  Hellen  (as  she 
+ofgold  drawen  ^^  returne  from  Trove)  had  thro  wen  in  in  that  place,  in 
+
+lit)  in  1  clrsp*         *'  •  ■*■ 
+
+jjg^  ^     memory  of  an  auncient  oracle  she  called  then  unto  her  minde. 
+
+Thereupon  the  straungers  and  fisher  men  first  fell  at  strife 
+about  this  three  footed  stoole,  who  should  have  it :  but  after- 
+wardes  the  two  citties  tooke  parte  of  both  sides,  on  their 
+cittizens  behalfe.  In  so  much  as  warres  had  like  to  have 
+followed  betwene  them,  had  not  the  prophetesse  Pythia 
+geven  a  like  oracle  unto  them  both.  That  they  should 
+geve  this  three  footed  stoole  unto  the  wisest  man.     Where- 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+upon  the  men  of  Co,  sent  it  first  to  Thales  in  the  cittic  of    SOLON 
+Miletum,  as  being  willing  to  graunte  that  unto  a  private 
+persone,   for   which    they   had    made   warres   with   all   the 
+Milesians  before,     Thales  sayed,  he  thought  Bias  a  wiser  The  rare 
+man  than  him  selfe  :  and  so  it  was  sent  unto  him.     He  like-  modesty  of 
+wise  sent  it  aganie  unto  another,  as  to  a  wiser  man.     And  *^  ^^^^^  "^®°' 
+that  other,  sent  it  also  unto  another.     So  that  being  thus 
+posted  from  man  to  man,  and  through  divers  handes,  in  the 
+ende  it  was  brought  backe  againe  unto  the  cittie  of  Miletum, 
+and  delivered  into  the  handes  of  Thales  the  seconde  time  : 
+and  last  of  all  was  caried  unto  Thebes,  and  offered  up  unto 
+the  temple  of  Apollo  Ismenian.       Howbeit   Theophrastus 
+writeth,  that  first  it  was  sent  to  the  cittie  of  Priena,  unto 
+Bias :  and  then  unto  Thales,  in  the  cittie  of  Miletum,  by 
+Bias  consent.     And  after  that  it  had  passed  through  all 
+their  handes,  it  was  brought  againe  unto  Bias :  and  lastely 
+it  was  sent  to  the  cittie  of  Delphes.     And  thus  much  have 
+the   best  and  most  auncient  writers  written :    saving   that 
+some  saye  in  steade  of  a  three  footed  stoole,  it  was  a  cuppe 
+that  king  Croesus  sent  unto  the  cittie  of  Delphes.     Other 
+saye,  it  was  a  pece  of  plate  which    Bathycles  left  there. 
+They  make  mention  also  of  another  private  meeting  betwext 
+Anacharsis  and  Solon,  and  of  another  betweene  him  and 
+Thales,  where  they  recite,  that  they  had  this  talke.   Anacharsis  Anacharsis 
+being  arrived  at  Athens,  went  to  knocke  at  Solons  gate,  ^^^^  Solons 
+saying  that  he  was  a  straunger  which  came  of  purpose  to  see  '"^^"'ig"- 
+him,  and  to  desire  his  acquaintaunce  and  friendshippe.    Solon 
+aunswered  him,  that  it  was  better  to  seeke  friendshippe  in  his 
+owne  countrie.     Anacharsis  replied  againe  :  Thou  then  that 
+arte  at  home,  and  in  thine  owne  countrie,  beginne  to  shew  me 
+friendshippe.     Then  Solon  wondering  at  his  bolde  ready  wit, 
+enterteined  him  very  curteously :   and  kept  him  a  certaine 
+time  in  his  house,  and  made  him  very  good  cheere,  at  the 
+selfe  same  time  wherein  he  was  most  busie  in  governing  the 
+common  weale,   and  making   lawes   for   the  state   thereof. 
+Which  when  Anacharsis  understoode,  he  laughed  at  it,  to  Anacharsis 
+see  that  Solon  imagined  with  written  lawes,  to  bridell  mens  saying  of 
+covetousnes  and  injustice.      For  such  lawes,  sayed  he,  doe  Solons wntte 
+rightly  resemble  the  spyders  cobwebbes :  bicause  they  take 
+
+211 
+
+
+SOLON 
+
+
+Solons  talke 
+with  Thales 
+at  Miletum, 
+about  ma- 
+nage, for 
+having  of 
+children. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+holde  of  litle  flies  and  gnattes  which  fall  into  them,  but  the 
+riche  and  mightie  will  breake  and  ronne  through  them  at 
+their  will.  Solon  answered  him,  that  men  doe  justly  keepe 
+all  covenants  and  bargaines  which  one  make  with  another, 
+bicause  it  is  to  the  hinderance  of  either  partie  to  breake 
+them :  and  even  so,  he  dyd  so  temper  his  lawes,  that  he 
+made  his  cittizens  knowe,  it  was  more  for  their  profit  to 
+obey  lawe  and  justice,  then  to  breake  it.  Nevertheles  after- 
+wardes,  matters  proved  rather  according  to  Anacharsis  com- 
+parison, then  agreable  to  the  hope  that  Solon  had  conceyved. 
+Anacharsis  being  by  happe  one  daye  in  a  common  assembly 
+of  the  people  at  Athens,  sayed  that  he  marvelled  much,  why 
+in  the  consultations  and  meetings  of  the  Grecians,  wise  men 
+propounded  matters,  and  fooles  dyd  decide  them.  It  is 
+sayed  moreover,  that  Solon  was  somtime  in  the  cittie  of 
+Miletum  at  Thales  house,  where  he  sayed  that  he  could  not 
+but  marvell  at  Thales,  that  he  would  never  marie  to  have 
+children.  Thales  gave  him  never  a  worde  at  that  present : 
+but  within  fewe  dayes  after  he  suborned  a  straunger,  which 
+sayed  that  he  came  but  newly  home  from  Athens,  departing 
+from  thence  but  tenne  dayes  before.  Solon  asked  him  imme- 
+diately. What  newes  there  ?  This  straunger  whom  Thales 
+had  schooled  before,  aunswered :  None  other  there,  saving 
+tliat  they  caried  a  young  man  to  buriall,  whom  all  the  cittie 
+followed,  for  that  he  was  one  of  the  greatest  mens  sonnes  of 
+the  cittie,  and  the  honestest  man  withall,  who  at  that  present 
+was  out  of  the  countrie,  and  had  bene  a  long  time  (as  they 
+sayed)  abroade.  O  poore  unfortunate  father,  then  sayed 
+Solon  :  and  what  was  his  name  ?  I  have  heard  him  named, 
+sayed  the  straunger,  but  I  have  forgotten  him  nowe  :  saving 
+that  they  all  sayed,  he  was  a  worthy  wise  man.  So  Solon 
+still  trembling  more  and  more  for  feare,  at  every  aunswer  of 
+this  straunger  :  in  the  ende  he  could  holde  no  longer,  being 
+full  of  trouble,  but  tolde  his  name  him  selfe  unto  the 
+straunger,  and  asked  him  againe,  if  he  were  not  the  sonne 
+of  Solon  which  was  buried.  The  very  same,  sayed  the 
+straunger.  Solon  with  that,  like  a  mad  man  straight  beganne 
+to  beat  his  head,  and  to  saye,  and  doe,  like  men  impacient 
+in  affliction,  and  overcome  with  sorowe.  But  Thales  laugh- 
+212 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+ing  to  sec  this  pageant,  stayed  him,  and  saved  :    Loe,  Solon,     SOLON 
+this  is  it  that  keepeth  me  from  marying,  and  getting  of 
+children  :  which  is  of  such  a  violence,  that  thou  seest  it  hath 
+nowe  overcome  thee,  although  otherwise  thou  arte  stronge, 
+and  able  to  wrestle  Avith  any.     Howbeit  for  any  thing  he 
+hath  saied  unto  thee,  be  of  good  cheere  man,  for  it  is  but  a 
+tale,  and  nothing  so.     Hermippus  writeth,  that  Patsecus  (he 
+which  sayed  he  had  Esops  sowle)  reciteth  this  story  thus. 
+Nevertheles  it  lacketh  judgement,  and  the  corage  of  a  man 
+also,  to  be  afrayed  to  get  things  necessarie,  fearing  the  losse  We  should 
+of  them  :  for  by  this  reckoning,  he  should  neither  esteeme  not  let  to  g 
+honour,  goodes,  nor  knowledge  when  he  hath  them,  for  feare  things  nece 
+to  lose  them.     For  we  see  that  vertue  it  selfe,  which  is  the  +o"ose  the" 
+greatest  and  sweetest  riches  a  man  can  have,  decayeth  oftimes 
+through  sicknes,  or  els  by  phisicke,  and  potions.     Further- 
+more Thales  selfe,  although   he  was  not  maried,  was  not 
+therefore  free  from  this  feare,  onles  he  would  confesse  that 
+he  neither  loved  friends,  kynsemen,  nor  countrie :  howbeit 
+Thales  had  an  adopted  sonne,  called  Cybistus,  which  was  his  Cybistus 
+sisters  sonne.     For  our  soule  having  in  it  a  naturall  inclina-  Thales  adoj 
+tion  to  love,  and  being  borne  aswell  to  love,  as  to  feele,  to  ^^  sonne. 
+reason,  or  understand,  and  to  remember :  having  nothing  of  The  instinc 
+her  owne  whereupon  she  might  bestowe  that  naturall  love,  ^^  naturall 
+boroweth  of  other.     As  where  there  is  a  house  or  inherit-    *'^^' 
+aunce  without  la\\^ull  heires,  many  times  straungers,  and 
+base  borne  children,  doe  creepe  into  the  kinde  affection  of 
+the  owner,  and  when  they  have  once  wonne  and  possessed  his 
+love,  they  make  him  ever  after  to  be  kynde  and  tender  over 
+them.     So  that  ye  shall  see  many  times  men  of  such  a  hard 
+and  rough  nature,  that  they  like  not  of  them  that  move  them 
+to  marie,  and  get  lawful!  children :  and  yet  afterwardes  are 
+ready  to  dye  for  feare  and    sorowe,  when    they   see   their 
+bastardes  (that  they  have  gotten  of  their  slaves  or  concubines) 
+fall  sicke  or  dye,  and  doe  utter  wordes  farre  unmeete  for 
+men  of  noble  corage.     And  some  such  there  be,  that  for  the 
+death  of  a  dogge,  or  their  horse,  are  so  out  of  harte,  and 
+take  such  thought,  that  they  are  ready  to  goe  into  the 
+grounde,  they  looke  so  pittiefully.     Other  some  are  cleane 
+contrarie,  who  though  they  have  lost  their  children,  forgone 
+
+213 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+
+SOLON 
+
+
+Proclamation 
+upon  paine  of 
+death  no  man 
+to  move  the 
+counsell  for 
+the  title  of 
+Salamina. 
+
+
+Solon  fained 
+madnes  to 
+recover  Sala- 
+
+
+Solons  Elegies 
+of  the  Sala- 
+minians. 
+
+
+their  friendes,  or  some  gentleman  deare  unto  them,  yet  no 
+sorowfull  worde  hath  commen  from  them,  neither  have  they 
+done  any  unseemely  thing :  but  have  passed  the  rest  of  their 
+life  like  wise,  constant,  and  vertuous  men.  For  it  is  not  love 
+but  weaknes,  which  breedeth  these  extreme  sorowes,  and 
+exceeding  feare,  in  men  that  are  not  exercised,  nor  acquainted 
+to  fight  against  fortune  with  reason.  And  this  is  the  cause 
+that  plucketh  from  them  the  pleasure  of  that  they  love  and 
+desire,  by  reason  of  the  continual}  trouble,  feare  and  griefe 
+they  feele,  by  thincking  howe  in  time  they  maye  be  deprived 
+of  it.  Nowe  we  must  not  arme  ourselves  with  povertie, 
+against  the  griefe  of  losse  of  goodes :  neither  with  lacke  of 
+affection,  against  the  losse  of  our  friendes  :  neither  with  wante 
+of  mariage,  against  the  death  of  children  :  but  we  must  be 
+armed  with  reason  against  misfortunes.  Thus  have  we  suffi- 
+ciently enlarged  this  matter.  The  Athenians  having  nowe 
+susteined  a  long  and  troublesome  warre  against  the  Mega- 
+rians,  for  the  possession  of  the  lie  of  Salamina :  were  in  the 
+ende  wearie  of  it,  and  made  proclamation  straightly  com- 
+maunding  upon  payne  of  death,  that  no  man  should  presume 
+to  preferre  any  more  to  the  counsaill  of  the  cittie,  the  title 
+or  question  of  the  possession  of  the  He  of  Salamina.  Solon 
+could  not  beare  this  open  shame,  and  seeing  the  most  parte 
+of  the  lustiest  youthes  desirous  still  of  warre  though  their 
+tongues  were  tyed  for  feare  of  the  proclamation  :  he  fayned 
+him  selfe  to  be  out  of  his  wittes,  and  caused  it  to  be  geven 
+out  that  Solon  was  become  a  foole,  and  secretly  he  had  made 
+certaine  lamentable  verses,  which  he  had  cunned  without 
+booke,  to  singe  abroade  the  cittie.  So  one  daye  he  ranne 
+sodainly  out  of  his  house  with  a  garland  on  his  head,  and 
+gotte  him  to  the  market  place,  where  the  people  straight 
+swarmed  like  bees  about  him  :  and  getting  him  up  upon  the 
+stone  where  all  proclamations  are  usually  made,  out  he 
+singeth  these  Elegies  he  had  made,  which  beganne  after  this 
+sorte. 
+
+r' 
+
+I  here  present  my  selfe  (an  Heraulde)  in  this  case^ 
+
+which  come  from  Salamina  lande,  that  noble  worthy  place. 
+
+My  minde  in  pelting  prose^  shall  never  be  exprest, 
+But  songe  in  verse  Heroycall,  for  so  I  thincke  it  best. 
+214 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+This   Elegie   is  intituled   '  Salamina,'  and   conteineth   a     SOLON 
+hundred  verses,  which  are  excellently  well  written.     And 
+these  being  songe  openly  by  Solon  at  that  time,  his  friendes 
+incontinently  praysed  them  beyond  measure,  and  specially 
+Pisistratus :    and  they  went  about  persuading  the   people 
+that  were  present,  to  credit  that  he  spake.     Hereupon  the 
+matter  was  so  handled  amongest  them,  that  by  and  by  the 
+proclamation  was  revoked,  and  they  beganne  to  followe  the 
+warres  with  greater  furie  then  before,  appointing  Solon  to  be 
+generall  in  the  same.     But  the  common  tale  and  reporte  is,  Of  the  tern] 
+that  he  went  by  sea  with   Pisistratus  unto  the  temple  of  of  Venus 
+Venus,  surnamed  Coliade :  where  he  founde  all  the  women  ^.^  t  f- V 
+at  a  solemne  feast  and  sacrifice,  which  they  made  of  custome  ^nd"  Pausan 
+to  the  goddesse.     He   taking  occasion  thereby,  sent  from  of  the  Athe 
+thence  a  trusty  man  of  his  owne  unto  the  Megarians,  which  nians. 
+then  had  Salamina :  whom  he  instructed  to  fayne  him  selfe  a 
+revolted  traytour,  and  that  he  came  of  purpose  to  tell  them, 
+that  if  they  would  but  goe  with  him,  they  might  take  all 
+the  chief  ladyes  and  gentlewomen  of  Athens  on  a  sodaine. 
+The  Megarians  easely  beleeved  him,  and  shipped  forthwith  Solonsstral 
+certaine  souldiers  to  goe  with  him.      But  when  Solon  per-  geame. 
+ceyved  the  shippe  under  sayle  comming  from  Salamina,  he 
+commaunded  the  women  to  departe,  and  in  steade  of  them 
+he  put  lusty  beardles  springalles  into  their  apparell,  and 
+gave  them  litle  shorte  daggers  to  convey  under  their  clothes, 
+commaunding  them   to   playe   and  daunce  together  upon 
+the  sea  side,  untill  their  enemies  were  landed,  and  their 
+shippe  at  anker :  and  so  it  came  to  passe.     For  the  Mega- 
+rians  being    deceyved    by   that   they    sawe   a   farre   of,    as 
+soone  as  ever   they    came  to  the  shore  side,  dyd  lande  in 
+heapes,  one  in  anothers  necke,  even  for  greedines  to  take 
+these  women :    but  not  a  man   of  them  escaped,  for   they 
+were  slayne  every  mothers  sonne.     This  stratageame  being 
+finely  handled,  and  to  good  effect,  the  Athenians  tooke  sea 
+straight,   and    costed   over   to  the  He  of  Salamina :   which  Solon  wann 
+they  tooke  upon  the  sodaine,  and  wanne  it  without  much  Salamina. 
+resistaunce.     Other  saye  that    it  was  not  taken  after  this 
+sorte:    but    that  Apollo    Delphicus   gave  Solon    first   such 
+an  oracle. 
+
+215 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+SOLON  Thou  shalt  first  winne  by  vowes  and  sacrifice, 
+
+the  helpe  of  lordes  and  demy  goddes  full  bright : 
+Of  whose  dead  bones,  the  dust  engraved  lies, 
+in  westerne  soyle,  Asopia  that  hight. 
+
+By  order  of  this  oracle,  he  one  night  passed  over  to  Sala- 
+mina,  and  dyd  sacrifice  to  Periphemus,  and  to  Cichris,  demy 
+goddes  of  the  countrie.  Which  done,  the  Athenians  de- 
+livered him  five  hundred  men,  who  willingly  offered  them 
+selves :  and  the  cittie  made  an  accorde  with  them,  that  if 
+they  tooke  the  He  of  Salamina,  they  should  beare  greatest 
+authoritie  in  the  common  weale.  Solon  imbarked  his 
+souldiers  into  divers  fisher  botes,  and  appointed  a  galliot 
+of  thirtie  owers  to  come  after  him,  and  he  ankred  hard  by 
+the  cittie  of  Salamina,  under  the  ponite  which  looketh 
+towards  the  He  of  Negrepont.  The  Megarians  which  were 
+within  Salamina,  having  by  chaunce  heard  some  inckling  of 
+it,  but  yet  knew  nothing  of  certaintie :  ranne  presently  in 
+hurly  burley  to  arme  them,  and  manned  out  a  shippe  to 
+descrie  what  it  was.  But  they  fondly  comming  within 
+daunger,  were  taken  by  Solon,  who  clapped  the  Megarians 
+under  hatches  fast  bounde,  and  in  their  roomes  put  aborde 
+in  their  shippe  the  choycest  souldiers  he  had  of  the 
+Athenians,  commaunding  them  to  set  their  course  direct 
+upon  the  cittie,  and  to  keepe  them  selves  as  close  out  of 
+sight  as  could  be.  And  he  him  self  with  all  the  rest  of  his 
+souldiers  landed  presently,  and  marched  to  encounter  with 
+the  Megarians,  which  were  come  out  into  the  fielde.  Now 
+whilest  they  were  fighting  together,  Solons  men  whom  he 
+had  sent  in  the  Megarians  shippe,  entred  the  haven,  and 
+wanne  the  towne.  This  is  certainly  true,  and  testified  by  that 
+which  is  shewed  yet  at  this  daye.  For  to  keepe  a  memoriall 
+hereof,  a  shippe  of  Athens  arriveth  quietly  at  the  first,  and 
+by  and  by  those  that  are  in  the  shippe  make  a  great  showte, 
+and  a  man  armed  leaping  out  of  the  shippe,  ronneth  showt- 
+ing  towardes  the  rocke  called  Sciradion,  which  is  as  they 
+come  from  the  firme  lande :  and  harde  by  the  same  is  the 
+temple  of  Mars,  which  Solon  built  there  after  he  had  over- 
+come the  Megarians  in  battell,  from  whence  he  sent  backe 
+againe  those  prisoners  that  he  had  taken  (which  were  saved 
+
+216 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+from  the  slaughter  of  the  battell)  without^any  ransome  pay-     SOLON 
+ing.     Nevertheles,  the  Megarians  were  sharpely  bent  still, 
+to  recover  Salamina  again.     Much  hurte  being   done  and  Great  strife 
+suffered  on  both  sides:    both  parts  in  the  ende  made  the  betwixt  the 
+Lacedemonians  judges  of  the  quarrell.     But  upon  judge-      j^^^h"^-. 
+ment  geven,  common  reporte  is,  that  Homers  authoritie  dyd  f^^^  Salamii 
+Solon  good  service,  bicause  he  did  adde  these  verses  to  the 
+number  of  shippes,  which  are  in  the  Iliades  of  Homer,  which 
+he  rehearsed  before  the  judges,  as  if  they  had  bene  in  deede 
+written  by  Homer. 
+
+Ajax  that  champion  stowte,  did  leade  with  him  in  charge,  Iliad,  lib.  2 
+
+twelve  shippes  from  Salamina  soyle,  which  he  had  left  at  large, 
+
+and  even  those  selfe  same  shippes,  in  battell  did  he  cast 
+
+and  place  in  order  for  to  fight,  with  enmies  force  at  last. 
+In  that  same  very  place,  whereas  it  seemed  then 
+
+the  captaines  which  from  Athens  came,  imbattelled  had  their  men. 
+
+Howbeit  the  Athenians  selves  thinke,  it  was  but  a  tale  of 
+pleasure :  and  saye  that  Solon  made  it  appeare  to  the  judges, 
+that  Philasus,  and  Eurysaces  (both  Ajax  sonnes)  were  made 
+free  denizens  of  Athens.  Whereupon  they  gave  the  He  of 
+Salamina  unto  the  Athenians,  and  one  of  them  came  to 
+dwell  in  a  place  called  Brauron,  in  the  country  of  Attica : 
+and  the  other  in  a  towne  called  Melitum.  And  for  due 
+proofe  thereof,  they  saye  there  is  yet  a  certen  canton  or 
+quarter  of  the  countrie  of  Attica,  which  is  called  the  canton 
+of  the  Philaeides,  after  the  name  of  this  Philaeus,  where 
+Pisistratus  was  borne.  And  it  is  sayed  moreover,  that  Solon 
+(bicause  he  would  throughly  convince  the  Megarians)  did 
+alleage  that  the  Salaminians  buried  not  the  dead  after  the 
+Megarians  manner,  but  after  the  Athenians  manner.  For  in 
+Megara  they  burie  the  dead  with  their  faces  to  the  East :  The  mannt 
+and  in  Athens  their  faces  are  towards  the  West.  Yet  of  burial  w 
+Hereas  the  Megarian  denieth  it,  saying  that  the  Megarians  the  Megarii 
+dyd  burie  them  also  with  their  faces  towards  the  West:  Athenians, 
+alleaging  moreover,  that  at  Athens  everie  corse  had  his 
+owne  beere  or  coffin  by  it  selfe,  and  that  at  Megara  they 
+dyd  put  three  or  foure  corses  together.  They  saye  also 
+there  were  certaine  oracles  of  Apollo  Pythias,  which  dyd 
+greatly  helpe  Solon,  by  which  the  god  called  Salamina, 
+2  E  217 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+Ionia.  Their  strife  was  judged  by  five  Arbitrators,  all 
+Spartans  borne  :  that  is  to  saje,  Critolaidas,  Amorapharetus, 
+Hypsechidas,  Anaxilas,  and  Cleomenes.  Solon  undoutedly 
+wonne  great  glory  and  honour  by  this  exployte,  yet  was  he 
+much  more  honoured  and  esteemed,  for  the  oration  he  made 
+in  defence  of  the  temple  of  Apollo,  in  the  cittie  of  Delphes : 
+declaring  that  it  was  not  meete  to  be  suffered,  that  the 
+'f  DelpheT  ^  Cyrrhaeians  should  at  their  pleasure  abuse  the  sanctuarie  of 
+the  oracle,  and  that  they  should  ayde  the  Delphians  in 
+honour  and  reverence  of  Apollo.  Whereupon  the  counsell 
+of  the  Amphictyons,  being  moved  with  his  words  and  per- 
+suasions, proclaimed  warres  against  the  Cyrrhaeians :  as  divers 
+other  doe  witnesse,  and  specially  Aristotle,  in  the  storie  he 
+wrote  of  those  that  wanne  the  Pythian  games,  where  he 
+ascribeth  unto  Solon  the  honour  of  that  determination. 
+Nevertheles  Hermippus  sayeth,  Solon  was  not  made  generall 
+of  their  armie,  as  Evanthes  Samian  hath  written.  For 
+jEschines  the  Orator  wrote  no  such  thing  of  him :  and  in 
+the  chronicles  of  the  Delphians  they  finde,  that  one  Alcmaeon, 
+and  not  Solon,  was  the  generall  of  the  Athenians.  Now  the 
+cittie  of  Athens  had  a  long  time  bene  vexed  and  troubled 
+through  Cylons  heynous  offence,  ever  sence  the  yere  that 
+Megacles  (governour  of  the  cittie  of  Athens)  dyd  with  fayer 
+words  handle  so  the  confederates  of  the  rebellion  of  Cylon, 
+which  had  taken  sanctuarie  >vithin  the  liberties  oi  the  temple 
+of  Minerva :  that  he  persuaded  them  to  be  wise,  and  to  pre- 
+sent them  selves  before  the  judges,  holding  by  a  threede,  which  , 
+they  should  tye  about  the  base  of  the  image  of  the  goddesse 
+where  she  stoode,  bicause  they  should  not  lose  their  libertie. 
+But  when  they  were  come  to  the  place  of  the  honorable 
+goddesses  so  called  (which  be  the  images  of  the  furies)  comm- 
+ing  downe  to  present  them  selves  before  the  judges,  the 
+threede  brake  of  it  self.  Then  Megacles,  and  other  officers 
+his  companions,  layed  holde  on  them  presently,  saying  that 
+it  was  a  manifest  signe  that  the  goddesse  Miner\^a  refused 
+to  save  them.  So  those  they  tooke,  and  all  they  could 
+laye  hands  of,  were  immediately  stoned  to  death  without 
+the  cittie  :  the  rest  which  tooke  the  altars  for  refuge,  were 
+slaine  there  also.  And  none  were  saved,  but  such  as  had 
+218 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+made  meanes  to  the  govemours  wives  of  the  citie,  to  intreate  SOLON 
+for  them :  which  from  that  time  forth  were  ever  hated  of 
+the  people,  and  commonly  called  the  abjects  and  excommuni- 
+cates. Who  being  the  issues  of  the  rebelles  that  rose  with 
+Cylon,  chaunced  to  rise  again  in  credit,  and  growing  to  great 
+authoritie,  they  never  left  quarrelling  and  fighting  con- 
+tinually with  th'  ofspring  of  Megacles.  These  factions  were 
+greatest  and  highest  in  Solons  time  :  who  being  of  authoritie, 
+and  seeing  the  people  thus  divided  in  two  partes,  he  stepped 
+in  betweene  them,  with  the  chiefest  men  of  Athens,  and  did 
+so  persuade  and  intreate  those  whom  they  called  the  abjects 
+and  excommunicates,  that  they  were  contented  to  be  judged. 
+So  three  hundred  of  the  chiefest  cittizens  were  chosen  judges 
+to  heare  this  matter.  The  accuser  was  Myron  Phlyeian. 
+This  matter  was  heard  and  pleaded,  and  by  sentence  of  the 
+judges,  the  excommunicates  were  condemned.  Those  that 
+were  alive,  to  pei-petuall  exile :  and  the  bones  of  them  that 
+were  dead,  to  be  digged  up,  and  throwen  out  of  the  confines 
+of  the  territorie  of  Athens.  But  whilest  the  cittie  of  Athens 
+was  occupied  with  these  uprores,  the  Megarians  wisely  caught 
+holde  of  the  occasion  delivered,  and  set  upon  the  Athenians, 
+tooke  from  them  the  haven  of  Nysaea,  and  recovered  againe 
+out  of  their  handes,  the  He  of  Salamina.  Furthermore,  all 
+the  cittie  was  possessed  with  a  certen  superstitious  feare :  for 
+some  sayed,  that  sprites  were  come  againe,  and  straunge 
+sightes  were  scene.  The  prognosticatours  also  sayed,  they 
+perceived  by  their  sacrifices,  the  cittie  was  defiled  with  some 
+abhominable  and  wicked  things,  which  were  of  necessitie  to 
+be  purged  and  throwen  out.  Hereupon  they  sent  into  Creta 
+for  Epimenides  Phaestian,  whom  they  reckoned  the  seventh  Epimenides 
+of  the  wise  men,  at  the  least  such  as  will  not  allowe  Peri-  Phaestus 
+ander  for  one  of  the  number.  He  was  a  holy  and  devoute  man,  f^  t^^  ^ 
+and  very  wise  in  celestiall  things,  by  inspiration  from  above :  excluding 
+by  reason  whereof,  men  of  his  time  called  him  the  newe  Curetes,  Periander. 
+that  is  to  save,  Prophet :  and  he  was  thought  the  sonne  of  a 
+Nymphe  called  Balte.  When  he  was  come  to  Athens,  and 
+growen  in  friendshippewith  Solon :  he  dyd  helpe  him  much, and 
+made  his  waye  for  establishing  of  his  lawes.  For  he  acquainted 
+the  Athenians  to  make  their  sacrifices  much  lighter,  and  of 
+
+219 
+
+
+sag 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+SOLON  lesse  coste:  and  brought  the  cittizens  to  be  more  moderate 
+in  their  mourning,  with  cutting  of  certaine  severe  and  bar- 
+barous ceremonies,  which  the  most  parte  of  the  women 
+observed  in  their  mourning,  and  he  ordeined  certain  sacri- 
+fices which  he  would  have  done  immediately  after  the  obse- 
+quies of  the  dead.  But  that  which  exceeded  all  the  rest  was, 
+that  by  using  the  cittizens  unto  holines  and  devotion,  daylie 
+sacrifices,  prayers  unto  the  godds,  purging  of  them  selves, 
+and  humble  offerings :  he  wanne  mens  hartes  by  litle  and 
+litle,  to  yelde  them  more  confirmable  to  justice,  and  to  be 
+more  inclined  to  concorde  and  unity.  It  is  reported  also 
+that  Epimenides,  when  he  saw  the  haven  of  Munychia,  and 
+had  long  considered  of  it :  told  those  about  him,  that  men 
+were  very  blinde  in  foreseeing  things  to  come.  For  if  the 
+Athenians  (sayed  he)  knew,  what  hurt  this  haven  would 
+bring  them :  they  would  eate  it  (as  they  saye)  with  their 
+teethe.  It  is  sayed  also  that  Thales  did  prognosticate  such 
+a  like  thing,  who  after  his  deathe  commaunded  they  should 
+burie  his  bodie,  in  some  vile  place  of  no  reckoning,  with  in 
+the  territorie  of  the  Milesians,  saying  that  one  daye  there 
+should  be  the  place  of  a  cittie.  Epimenides  therfore  being 
+marvelously  esteemed  of  every  man  for  these  causes,  was 
+greatly  honoured  of  the  Athenians,  and  they  offered  him 
+great  presents  of  money  and  other  things,  but  he  would  take 
+nothing,  and  only  prayed  them  to  geve  him  a  boughe  of  the 
+holy  olyvc :  which  they  graunted  him,  and  so  he  returned 
+Solon  pacified  shortely  home  into  Creta.  Nowe  that  this  sedition  of  Cylon 
+t  Ath  ^^^^  utterly  appeased  in  Athens,  for  that  the  excommunicates 
+
+were  banished  the  countrie  :  the  citty  fell  againe  into  their 
+olde  troubles  and  dissentions  about  the  government  of  the 
+common  weale :  and  they  were  devided  into  so  divers  partes 
+and  factions,  as  there  were  people  of  sundry  places  and  terri- 
+tories within  the  countrie  of  Attica.  For  there  were  the 
+people  of  the  mountaines,  the  people  of  the  vallies,  and  the 
+people  of  the  sea  coaste.  Those  of  the  mountaines,  tooke 
+the  common  peoples  parte  for  their  lives.  Those  of  the 
+valley,  would  a  fewe  of  the  best  cittizens  should  carie  the 
+swaye.  The  coaste  men  would,  that  neither  of  them  should 
+prevaile,  bicause  they  would  have  had  a  meane  government, 
+'^  220 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+an(t  mingled  of  them  both.    Furthermore,  the  faction  betwene     S  O  L  O  f 
+the  poore  and  riche,  proceeding  of  their  unequahtie,  was  at 
+that  time  very  great.     By  reason  whereof  the  cittie  was  in 
+great  daunger,  and  it  seemed  there  was  no  waye  to  pacific  or 
+take  up  these  controversies,  unles  some  tyraunt  happened  to 
+rise,  that  would  take  upon  him  to  rule  the  whole.     For  all 
+the  common  people  were  so  sore  indetted  to  the  riche,  that  The  miseri 
+either  they  plowed  their  landes,  and  yelded  them  the  sixt  o^  ^^}^)  ^^ 
+parte  of  their  croppe :    (for  which   cause  they  were  called  ^^^"^• 
+Hectemorii  and  servants)  or  els  they  borowed  money  of  them 
+at  usurie,  upon  gage  of  their  bodies  to  serve  it  out.     And  if 
+they  were  not  able  to  paye  them,  then  were  they  by  the  law 
+delivered  to  their  creditours,  who  kept  them  as  bonde  men 
+and  slaves  in  their  houses,  or  els  they  sent  them  into  straunge 
+countries  to  be  sold  :  and  many  even  for  very  povertie  were 
+forced  to  sell  their  owne  children  (for  there  was  no  lawe  to 
+forbid  the    contrarie)   or   els   to   forsake   their    cittie   and 
+countrie,  for  the  extreme  cruelty  and  hard  dealing  of  these 
+abominable  usurers  their  creditours.     Insomuch  as  many  of 
+the  lustiest  and  stowtest  of  them,  banded  together  in  com- 
+panies, and  incoraged  one  another,  not  to  suiFer  and  beare 
+any  lenger  such  extremitie,  but  to  choose  them  a  stowte  and 
+trusty  captaine,  that  might  set  them  at  libertie,  and  redeeme 
+those  out  of  captivity,  which  were  judged  to  be  bondmen 
+and  servants,  for  lacke  of  paying  of  their  detts  at  their  dayes 
+appointed  :  and  so  to  make  againe  a  newe  division  of  all 
+landes  and  tenements,  and  wholy  to  chaimge  and  turne  up 
+the  whole  state  and  government.     Then  the  wisest  men  of 
+the  cittie,  who  sawe  Solon  only  neither  partner  with  the  Solons  eqi 
+riche  in  their  oppression,  neither  partaker  with  the  poore  in  ^"*^  uprig} 
+their  necessitie :  made  sute  to  him,  that  it  would  please  him  "^*'' 
+to  take  the  matter  in  hande,  and  to  appease  and  pacific  all 
+these  broyles  and  sedition.     Yet  Phanias  Lesbian  writeth, 
+that  he  used  a  subtiltie,  whereby  he  deceived  both  the  one 
+and  the  other  side,  concerning  the  common  weale.     For  he  Solon  by  s 
+secretly  promised  the  poore  to  devidethe  lands  againe:  and  tiltiesetoi 
+the  riche  also,  to  confirme  their  covenants  and  bargaines.     ^*^^-''*  * 
+Howsoever  it  fell  out,  it  is  very  certain  that  Solon  from  the  ridi. 
+beginning  made  it  a  great  matter,  and  was  very  scrupulous 
+
+221 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+
+SOLON 
+
+
+Solon  chosen 
+reformer  of 
+the  lawe,  and 
+chief  gover- 
+nour. 
+
+
+Solon  refus- 
+eth  to  be  a 
+tvranne. 
+
+
+Tynnondas, 
+and  Pittacus 
+tyrannes. 
+
+Solons 
+aunswer  for 
+tyranme. 
+
+
+to  deale  betwene  them  :  fearing  the  covetousnes  of  the  one, 
+and  arrogancie  of  the  other.  Howbeit  in  the  end  he  was 
+chosen  governour  after  Philombrotus,  and  was  made  reformer 
+of  the  rigour  of  the  lawes,  and  the  temperer  of  the  state  and 
+common  weale,  by  consent  and  agreement  of  both  parties. 
+The  rich  accepted  him,  bicause  he  was  no  begger :  the 
+poore  did  also  like  him,  bicause  he  was  an  honest  man. 
+They  saye  moreover,  that  one  word  and  sentence  which  he 
+spake  (which  at  that  present  was  rife  in  every  mans  mouthe) 
+that  equalitie  dyd  breede  no  stryfe :  did  aswell  please  the 
+riche  and  wealthie,  as  the  poore  and  needie.  For  the  one 
+sorte  conceyved  of  this  worde  equalitie,  that  he  would 
+measure  all  things  according  to  the  qualitie  of  the  man  : 
+and  the  other  tooke  it  for  their  purpose,  that  he  would 
+measure  things  by  the  number,  and  by  the  polle  only.  Thus 
+the  captaines  of  both  factions  persuaded  and  prayed  him, 
+boldly  to  take  upon  him  that  soveraigne  authoritie,  sithence 
+he  had  the  whole  cittie  nowe  at  his  commaundement.  The 
+neawters  also  of  every  parte,  when  they  sawe  it  very  harde 
+to  pacific  these  things  with  lawe  and  reason,  were  well  con- 
+tent that  the  wisest,  and  honestest  man,  should  alone  have 
+the  royall  power  in  his  handes.  Some  save  also  that  there 
+was  such  an  oracle  of  Apollo. 
+
+Sitt  thou  at  helme,  as  governour  to  steere 
+
+to  guyde  our  course,  and  rule  the  rowling  shippe, 
+for  thou  shalt  see,  full  many  Athenians  there, 
+will  take  thy  parte,  and  after  thee  will  trippe. 
+
+But  his  familier  friendes  above  all  rebuked  him,  saying  he 
+was  to  be  accompted  no  better  then  a  beast,  if  for  fear  of 
+the  name  of  tyranne,  he  would  refuse  to  take  upon  him  a 
+Kingdome :  which  is  the  most  just  and  honorable  state,  if 
+one  take  it  upon  him  that  is  an  honest  man.  As  in  the 
+olde  time,  Tynnondas  made  him  selfe  King  of  those  of  Negre- 
+pont,  with  their  consent :  and  as  Pittacus  was  then  presently 
+of  those  of  Metelin.  Notwithstanding,  all  these  goodly 
+reasons  could  not  make  him  once  alter  his  opinion.  And 
+they  saye  he  aunswered  his  friendes,  that  principalitie  and 
+tyrannic,  was  in  deede  a  goodly  place :  howbeit  there  was  no 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+way  for  a  man  to  get  out,  when  he  was  once  entered  into  it.     SOLON 
+And  in  certen  verses  that  he  wrote  to  Phocus,  thus  he  sayed  : 
+
+I  neither  bhishe,  nor  yet  repent  my  selfe, 
+
+that  have  preservde,  my  native  soyle  allwayes^ 
+
+and  that  therein  (to  hourde  up  trashe  and  pelfe) 
+
+no  tyrants  thought,  could  once  eclypse  my  prayse. 
+No  might  could  move,  my  minde  to  any  wronge, 
+
+which  might  beblot,  the  glory  of  my  name  : 
+
+for  so  I  thought,  to  live  in  honour  longe, 
+
+and  farre  excell  all  other  men  for  fame. 
+
+Hereby  ap])eareth  plainely,  that  even  before  he  was  chosen 
+reformer  of  the  state,  to  stablish  newe  lawes  :  he  was  then  of 
+great  coimtenaunce  and  authoritie.  But  he  him  selfe  writeth, 
+that  many  sayed  of  him  thus,  after  he  had  refused  the  occa- 
+sion of  usurping  of  this  tyrannic  : 
+
+Suer,  Solon  was  a  foole,  and  of  a  bashefull  minde, 
+
+that  would  refuse  the  great  good  happe,  which  goddes  to  him 
+assignde. 
+The  praye  was  in  his  handes,  yet  durst  he  never  drawe, 
+
+the  net  therefore  :  but  stoode  abasht,  and  like  a  dastarde  dawe. 
+For  had  not  that  so  bene,  he  would  (for  one  dayes  raigne, 
+
+to  be  a  King  in  Athens  towne)  him  selfe  (all  quicke)  have  slayen. 
+And  eke  subverted  quyte,  his  familie  withall. 
+
+So  sweete  it  is  to  rule  the  roste,  yclad  in  princely  pall. 
+
+Thus  brought  he  common  rumor  to  taber  on  his  head. 
+Nowe,  notwithstanding  he  had  refused  the  kingdome,  yet  he 
+waxed  nothing  the  more  remisse  nor  softe  therefore  in 
+governing,  neither  would  he  bowe  for  feare  of  the  great,  nor 
+yet  would  frame  his  lawes  to  their  liking,  that  had  chosen 
+him  their  reformer.  For  where  the  mischief  was  toUerable, 
+he  dyd  not  straight  plucke  it  up  by  the  rootes  :  neither  dyd 
+he  so  chaunge  the  state,  as  he  might  have  done,  least  if  he 
+should  have  attempted  to  turne  upsidowne  the  whole  govern- 
+ment, he  might  afterwards  have  bene  never  able  to  settle  and 
+stablishe  the  same  againe.  Therefore  he  only  altered  that, 
+which  he  thought  by  reason  he  would  persuade  his  cittizens 
+unto,  or  els  by  force  he  ought  to  compell  them  to  accept, 
+mingling  as  he  saied,  sower  with  sweete,  and  force  with  Excellent 
+justice.     And  herewith  agreeth  his  aunswer  that  he  made  temperature. 
+
+S23 
+
+
+SOLON 
+
+
+Things  hate- 
+full  made 
+pleasaunt 
+with  sweete 
+worcles. 
+
+
+Cleeriug  of 
+detts,  Solous 
+first  lawe. 
+
+Usurie  for- 
+bidden upon 
+gage  of  the 
+bodie. 
+
+The  value  of 
+money  cried 
+up  by  Solon. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+afterwards,  unto  one  that  asked  him,  .if  he  had  made  the 
+best  lawes  he  could  for  the  Athenians  ?  Yea  suer,  sayeth  he, 
+such  as  they  were  to  receive.  And  this  that  followeth  also, 
+they  have  ever  since  observed  in  the  Athenian  tongue :  to 
+make  certen  things  pleasaunt,  that  be  hatefull,  finely  convey- 
+ing them  under  culler  of  pleasing  names.  As  calling  whores, 
+lemans  :  taxes,  contributions  :  garrisons,  gardes :  prisones, 
+houses.  And  all  this  came  up  first  by  Solons  invention,  who 
+called  cleering  of  detts,  Seisachtheian  in  English, '  discharge."* 
+For  the  first  chaunge  and  reformation  he  made  in  govern- 
+ment was  this  :  he  ordeined  that  all  manner  of  detts  past 
+should  be  cleere,  and  no  bodye  should  aske  his  detter  any 
+thing  for  the  time  past.  That  no  man  should  thenceforth 
+lende  money  out  to  usurie,  upon  covenants  for  the  bodye  to 
+be  bounde,  if  it  were  not  repayed.  Howbeit  some  write 
+(as  Androtion  among  other)  that  the  poore  were  contented 
+that  the  interest  only  for  usury  should  be  moderated,  without 
+taking  away  the  whole  dett :  and  that  Solon  called  this  easie 
+and  gentle  discharge,  Seisachtheian,  with  crying  up  the  value 
+of  money.  For  he  raised  the  pound  of  silver,  being  before  but 
+three  score  and  thirtene  Drachmes,  fidl  up  to  an  hundred  :  so 
+they  which  were  to  paye  great  summes  of  money,  payed  by  tale 
+as  much  as  they  ought,  but  with  lesse  number  of  peces,  then 
+the  dett  could  have  bene  payed  when  it  was  borowed./  And 
+so  the  detters  gayned  much,  and  the  creditours  lost  nothing. 
+Nevertheles  the  more  parte  of  them  which  have  written  the 
+same,  saye,  that  this  crying  up  of  money,  was  a  generall 
+discharge  of  all  detts,  conditions,  and  covenaunts  upon  the 
+same :  whereto  the  very  Poemes  them  selves,  which  Solon 
+wrote,  doe  seeme  to  agree.  For  he  glorieth,  and  breaketh 
+forth  in  his  verses,  that  he  had  taken  away  all  bawkes  and 
+marcks,  that  separated  mens  lands  through  the  countrie  of 
+Attica :  and  that  now  he  had  set  at  libertie,  that  which 
+before  was  in  bondage.  And  that  of  the  cittizens  of  Athens, 
+which  for  lacke  of  payment  of  their  detts  had  bene  con- 
+demned for  slaves  to  their  creditours,  he  had  brought  many 
+home  again  out  of  straunge  countries,  where  they  had  bene 
+so  long,  that  they  had  forgotten  to  speake  their  naturall 
+tongue :  and  other  which  remained  at  home  in  captivitie,  he 
+224 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+had  nowe  set  them  all  at  good  libertie.     But  while  he  was  a     SOLON 
+doing  this,  men  saye  a  thing  thwarted  him,  that  troubled 
+him  marvelously.     For  having  framed  an  Edict  for  clearing  Lawes  woul 
+of  all  detts,  and  lacking  only  a  litle  to  grace  it  with  words,  be  kept  seer 
+and  to  geve  it  some  prety  preface,  that  otherwise  was  ready  ^'^If-^^^i*^ 
+to  be  proelaymed  :  he  opened  him  selfe  somewhat  to  certaine  P" 
+of  his  famiiiers  whom  he  trusted  (as  Conon,  Clinias,  and 
+Hipponicus)  and  tolde  them  how  he  would  not  medle  with 
+landes  and  possessions,  but  would  only  cleere  and  cut  of  all 
+manner  of  detts.     These  men  before  the  proclamation  came  111  con- 
+out,  went  presently  to  the  money  men,  and  borowed  great  sciences  by 
+summes  of  money  of  them,  and  layed  it  out  straight  upon  5'''^^*'  Pleven 
+lande.     So  when  the  proclamation  came  out,  they  kept  the 
+landes  they  had  purchased,  but  restored  not  the  money  they 
+had  borowed.     This  fowle  parte  of  theirs  made  Solon  very 
+ill  spoken  of,  and  wrongfully  blamed  :  as  if  he  had  not  only 
+suffered  it,  but  had  bene  partaker  of  this  wrong,  and  injustice. 
+Notwithstanding   he    cleared    him   self  of  this    slaunderous 
+reporte,  losing  five  talents  by  his  owne  lawe.     For  it  was  well 
+knowen  that  so  much  was  due  unto  him,  and  he  was  the  first 
+that  following  his  owne  proclamation,  dyd  clearely  release  his  A  good  lawe 
+detters  of  the  same.    Other  saye  he  was  owing  fifteene  talents:  maker,  begii 
+and  among  the  same,  Polyzelus  the  Rhodian   is  one  that  ?^^*^  to_doe 
+affirmeth  it.     Notwithstanding  they  ever  after  called  Solons  jj^^  ggj£g_ 
+friendes  Greocopides^  '  cutters  of  detts.'     This  lawe  neither 
+liked  the  one  nor  the  other  sorte.     For  it  greatly  offended 
+the  riche,  for  cancelling  tlieir  bondes :  and  it  much  more 
+misliked  the  poore,  bicause  all  landes  and  possessions  they 
+gaped  for,  were  not  made  againe  common,  and  every  bodye 
+a  like  riche  and  wealthie,  as  Lycurgus  had  made  the  Lace- 
+daemonians.    But  Lvcurgus  was  the  eleventh  descended  of 
+the  right  line  from  Hercules,  and  had  many  yeres  bene  king 
+of  Lacedaemon,  where  he  had  gotten  great  authoritie,  and 
+made  him  self  many  friends :  all  which  things  together,  dyd 
+greatly   helpe  him  to   execute  that,   which  he  wisely  had 
+imagined  for  the  order  of  his  common  weale.     Yet  also,  he 
+used  more  persuasion  then  force,  a  good  witnes  thereof,  the 
+losse  of  his  eye  :  preferring  a  lawe  before  his  private  injurie, 
+which  hath  power  to  preserve  a  cittie  long  in  union  and 
+•^  F  225 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+SOLON  Concorde,  and  to  make  cittizens  to  be  neither  poore  nor  riche. 
+Solon  could  not  attain  to  this,  for  he  was  born  in  a  popular 
+state,  and  a  man  but  of  meane  wealth  :  Howbeit  he  did  what 
+he  could  possible,  with  the  power  he  had,  as  one  seeking  to 
+winne  no  credit  with  his  cittizens,  but  onely  by  his  counsaile. 
+Now,  that  he  got  the  ill  will  of  the  more  parte  of  the  cittie, 
+by  his  proclamation  which  he  made  :  he  him  self  doth  wit- 
+nesse  it,  saying : 
+
+Even  those  which  earst,  did  beare  me  frendly  face, 
+and  spake  full  fayer,  where  ever  I  them  met : 
+gan  nowe  beginne,  to  looke  full  grym  of  grace, 
+and  were  (like  foes)  in  force  against  me  set. 
+
+As  if  I  had  done  them,  some  spite  or  scorne, 
+or  open  wronge,  which  were  not  to  be  borne. 
+
+Nevertheles  he  sayeth  immediately  after,  that  with  the 
+same  authoritie  and  power  he  had,  a  man  possibly 
+
+Could  not  control!,  the  peoples  mindes  : 
+
+nor  still  their  braynes,  which  wrought  like  windes. 
+
+But  shortely  after,  having  a  feeling  of  the  benefit  of  his 
+ordinaunce,  and  every  one  forgetting  his  private  quarrell : 
+they  altogether  made  a  common  sacrifice,  which  they  called 
+the  sacrifice  of  Seisachthia,  or  discharge,  and  chose  Solon 
+Solons  abso-     generall  reformer  of  the  lawe,  and  of  the  whole  state  of  the 
+lute  authority  common  weale,  without  limiting  his  power,  but  referred  all 
+in  the  com-      matters  indifferently  to  his  will.     As  the  offices  of  state, 
+mun  wea  e.       common  assemblies,  voyces  in  election,  judgements  in  justice, 
+and  the  bodie  of  the  Senate.     And  they  gave  him  also  full 
+power  and  authoritie,  to  sesse  and   taxe  any  of  them,  to 
+appointe  the  number,  what  time  the  sesse  should  continewe, 
+and  to  keepe,  confirme,  and  disanull  at  his  pleasure,  any  of 
+Solon  tooke     the  auncient  lawes  and  customes  then  in  being.     To  beginne 
+awaye  all  withall,  he  first  tooke  away  all  Dracons  bloudy  lawes,  saving 
+
+racons  ^^^  murder,  and  manslaughter,  which  were  to  severe  and 
+
+cruell.  For  almost  he  dyd  ordaine  but  one  kinde  of  punish- 
+ment, for  all  kinde  of  faultes  and  offences,  which  was  death. 
+So  that  they  which  were  condemned  for  idlenes,  were  judged 
+to  dye.  And  pety  larceny,  as  robbing  mens  horteyards,  and 
+gardens  of  fruite,  or  erbes,  was  as  severelv  punished  :  as  those 
+226 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+who  had  committed  sacriledge  or  murder.     Demades  there-     SOLON 
+fore  encountered  it  pleasauntiy,  when  he  sayed  :  that  Dracons 
+lawes  were  not  written  with  incke,  but  with  bloud.  And  Draco 
+him  selfe  being  asked  one  daye,  why  his  punishments  were 
+so  unequal!,  as  death  for  all  kinde  of  faultes :  he  aunswered. 
+Bicause  he  thought  the  least  offence  worthie  so  much  punish- 
+ment :  and  for  the  greatest,  he  found  none  more  grievous. 
+Then  Solon  being  desirous  to  have  the  chief  offices  of  the 
+cittie  to  remaine  in  riche  mens  handes,  as  already  they  dyd, 
+and  yet  to  mingle  the  authoritie  of  government  in  such  sorte, 
+as  the  meaner  people  might  beare  a  litle  swaye,  which  they 
+never  could  before :  he  made  an  estimate  of  the  goodes  of 
+every  private  cittizen.     And  those  which  he  founde  yerely  Solon  rateth 
+worthe  five  hundred  busshells  of  corne,  and  other  liquide  everie  cittizen 
+fruites   and    upwards,   he  called  Pentacosiomedimnes :  as  to  **  ^  certen 
+saye,  five  hundred  busshell  men  of  revenue.     And  those  that  ^""^"^®- 
+had  three  hundred  busshells  a  yere,  and  were  able  to  keepe  a  -Pcn^<^co«jo- 
+horse  of  service,  he  put  in  the  second  degree,  and  called  '"^  ^"'"'' 
+them  knightes.     They  that  might  dispend  but  two  hundred 
+busshells  a  yere,  were  put  in  the  thirde  place,  and  called 
+ZeiLgites.     All  other  under  those,  were  called  Thetes^  as  ye  Zeugita:. 
+would  saye,  hyerlings,  or  craftes  men  living  of  their  labour :  Thetes. 
+whom  he  dyd  not  admit  to  beare  any  office  in  the  cittie, 
+neither  were  they  taken  as  free  cittizens,  saving  they  had 
+voyces  in  elections,  and  assemblies  of  the  cittie,  and  in  judge- 
+ments, where  the  people  wholy  judged.      This  at  the  first 
+seemed  nothing,  but  afterwardes  they  felt  it  was  to  great 
+purpose :  for  hereby  the  most  parte  of  private  quarrells  and 
+strifes  that  grewe  among  them,  were  in  the  ende  layed  open 
+before  the  people.     For  he  suffered  those  to  appeale  unto 
+the  people,  which  thought  they  had  wrong  judgement  in 
+their' causes.     Furthermore,  bicause  his  lawes  were  written  The  darkues 
+somewhat  obscurely,  and  might  be  diversely  taken  and  inter-  pf  the  lawe 
+preted :    this  dyd  geve  a  great  deale  more  authoritie  and  increased,  the 
+power  to  the  judges.     For,  considering  all  their  controversies  ^^g  iudVe  ^ 
+could  not  be  ended,  and  judged  by  expresse  lawe  :  they  were 
+driven  of  necessitie  allwayes  to  romie  to  the  judges,  and 
+debated  their  matters  before  them.     In  so  muche  as  the 
+judges  by  this  meanes  came  to  be  somewhat  above  the  lawe : 
+
+227 
+
+
+SOLON 
+
+
+The  counsell 
+of  the  Areo- 
+pagites. 
+
+
+3  Counsells 
+erected  in 
+Athens. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+for  they  dyd  even  expounde  it  as  they  would  them  selves. 
+Solon  self  doth  note  this  equall  division  of  the  publicke 
+authoritie,  in  a  place  of  his  poesies,  where  he  sayeth : 
+
+Suche  power  have  I  geven^  to  common  peoples  haude, 
+
+as  might  become  their  meaue  estate,  with  equity  to  stande: 
+
+and  as  I  have  not  pluct,  from  them  their  dignitie, 
+
+so  have  I  not  to  much  increast,  their  small  authoritie.  / 
+
+Unto  the  riche  likewise,  I  have  allowed  no  more, 
+
+then  well  might  seeme  (in  just  conceit)  sufficient  for  their  store.  , 
+
+And  so  I  have  for  both  provided  in  such  wise, 
+
+that  neither  shall  eche  other  wrong,  nor  seeme  for  to  despise. 
+
+Yet  considering  it  was  meete  to  provide  for  the  povertie 
+of  the  common  sorte  of  people  :  he  suiFered  any  man  that 
+would,  to  take  upon  him  the  defence,  of  any  poore  mans 
+case  that  had  the  wrong.  For  if  a  man  were  hurte,  beaten, 
+forced,  or  otherwise  wronged :  any  other  man  that  would, 
+might  lawfully  sue  the  oftendour,  and  prosecute  lawe  against 
+him.  And  this  was  a  wise  lawe  ordeined  of  him,  to  accus- 
+tome  his  cittizens  to  be  sorie  one  for  anothers  hurte,  and  so 
+to  feele  it,  as  if  any  parte  of  his  owne  bodie  had  bene  injured. 
+And  they  saye  he  made  an  aunswer  on  a  time,  agreable  to 
+this  law.  For,  being  asked  what  cittie  he  thought  best 
+governed  :  he  aunswered.  That  cittie  where  such  as  receyve 
+no  wronge,  doe  as  earnestly  defend  wrong  offered  to  other, 
+as  the  very  wrong  and  injurie  had  bene  done  unto  them 
+selves.  He  erected  also  the  counsaill  of  the  Areopagites,  of 
+those  magistrates  of  the  cittie,  out  of  which  they  did  yerely 
+choose  their  govemour :  and  he  him  self  had  bene  of  that 
+number,  for  that  he  had  bene  govemour  for  a  yere.  Wher- 
+fore  perceyving  now  the  people  were  growen  to  a  stomake, 
+and  hawtines  of  minde,  bicause  they  were  cleare  discharged 
+of  their  detts :  he  set  one  up  for  matters  of  state,  another 
+counsell  of  an  hundred  chosen  out  of  every  tribe,  whereof 
+foure  hundred  of  them  were  to  consult  and  debate  of  all 
+matters,  before  they  were  propounded  to  the  people :  that 
+when  the  great  counsell  of  the  people  at  large  should  be 
+assembled,  no  matters  should  be  put  forth,  onles  it  had 
+bene  before  well  considered  of,  and  digested,  by  the  counsell 
+of  the  foure  hundred.      INIoreover,  he  ordeined  the  higher 
+
+228 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+courte  should  have  the  chiefe  authoritie  and  power  over  all  SOLON 
+things,  and  chiefly  to  see  the  lawe  executed  and  mainteined : 
+supposing  that  the  common  weale  being  settled,  and  stayed 
+with  these  two  courtes  (as  with  two  stronge  anker  holdes) 
+it  should  be  the  lesse  turmoyled  and  troubled,  and  the 
+people  also  better  pacified  and  quieted.  The  most  parte  of 
+writers  holde  this  opinion,  that  it  was  Solon  which  erected 
+the  counsaill  of  the  A.eopagites,  as  we  have  sayed,  and  it  is 
+very  likely  to  be  true,  for  that  Dracon  in  all  his  lawes  and 
+ordinaunces  made  no  manner  of  mention  of  the  Areopagites, 
+but  allwayes  speaketh  to  the  Ephetes  (which  were  judges  of 
+life  and  death)  when  he  spake  of  murder,  or  of  any  mans 
+death.  Notwithstanding,  the  eight  law  of  the  thirtenth 
+table  of  Solon  sayeth  thus,  in  these  very  words  :  All  such  as  Other  lawes 
+have  bene  banished  or  detected  of  naughty  life,  before  Solon  ^^  Solou. 
+made  his  laws,  shalbe  restored  againe  to  their  goodes  and 
+good  name,  except  those  which  were  condemned  by  order  of 
+the  counsaill  of  the  Areopagites,  or  by  the  Ephetes,  or  by 
+the  Kings  in  open  courte,  for  murder,  and  death  of  any  man, 
+or  for  aspiring  to  usurpe  tyrannic.  These  wordes  to  the 
+contrarie,  seeme  to  prove  and  testifie,  that  the  counsell  of 
+the  Areopagites  was,  before  Solon  was  chosen  reformer  of 
+the  lawes.  For  howe  could  offenders  and  wicked  men  be 
+condemned,  by  order  of  the  counsell  of  the  Areopagites 
+before  Solon,  if  Solon  was  the  first  that  gave  it  authoritie 
+to  judge  ?  onles  a  man  will  saye  peradventure,  that  he  would 
+a  litle  lielpe  the  matter  of  his  lawes  which  were  obscure  and 
+darke,  and  would  supply  that  they  lacked,  with  expounding 
+of  the  same  by  them.  Those  which  shalbe  founde  attainted 
+and  convicted  of  any  matter,  that  hath  bene  heard  before 
+the  counsaill  of  the  Areopagites,  the  Ephetes,  or  the  gover- 
+nours  of  the  cittie  when  this  lawe  shall  come  forth  :  shall 
+stand  condemned  still,  and  all  other  shalbe  pardoned, 
+restored,  and  set  at  libertie.  Howsoever  it  is,  sure  that 
+was  his  intent  and  meaning.  Furthermore  amongest  the 
+rest  of  his  lawes,  one  of  them  in  deede  was  of  his  o^vne 
+devise  :  for  the  like  was  never  stablished  els  where.  And  it 
+is  that  lawe,  that  pronounceth  him  defamed,  and  unhonest,  Alaweagains 
+who  in  a  civill  uprore  among  the  cittizens,  sitteth  still  a  "eawters. 
+
+229 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+SOLON  looker  on,  and  a  neawter,  and  taketh  parte  with  neither  side. 
+Whereby  his  minde  was  as  it  should  appeare,  that  private 
+men  should  not  be  only  carefull  to  put  them  selves  and  their 
+causes  in  safety,  nor  yet  should  be  careles  for  other  mens 
+matters,  or  thineke  it  a  vertue  not  to  medle  with  the  miseries 
+and  misfortunes  of  their  countrie,  but  from  the  beginning  of 
+every  sedition  that  they  should  joyne  with  those  that  take 
+the  j  ustest  cause  in  hande,  and  rather  to  hazarde  them  selves 
+with  such,  then  to  tarie  looking  (without  putting  them  selves 
+in  daunger)  which  of  the  two  should  have  the  victorie. 
+An  acte  for  There  is  another  lawe  also,  which  at  the  first  sight  me 
+matchingwith  thinketh  is  very  unhonest  and  fond.  That  if  any  man 
+inheritours.  according  to  the  lawe  hath  matched  with  a  riche  heire  and 
+inheritour,  and  of  him  selfe  is  nnpotent,  and  unable  to  doe 
+the  office  of  a  husband,  she  maye  lawfully  lye  with  any  whom 
+she  liketh,  of  her  husbands  nearest  kinsemen,  Howbeit  some 
+affirme,  that  it  is  a  wise  ma^e  lawe  for  those,  which  knowing 
+them  selves  unmeete  to  entertaine  wedlocke,  will  for  covet- 
+ousnes  of  landes,  marye  with  riche  heires  and  possessioners, 
+and  minde  to  abuse  poore  gentlewomen  under  the  colour  of 
+lawe  :  and  will  thineke  to  force  and  restraine  nature.  For, 
+seeing  the  lawe  sufferefh  an  inheritour  or  possessioner  thus 
+ill  bestowed,  at  her  pleasure  to  be  bolde  with  any  of  her 
+husbands  kynne :  men  will  either  leave  to  purchase  such 
+manages,  or  if  they  be  so  careles  that  they  will  nedes  marye, 
+it  shalbe  to  their  extreme  shame  and  ignominie,  and  so  shall 
+they  deservedly  paye  for  their  greedy  covetousnes.  And  the 
+lawe  is  well  made  also,  bicause  the  wife  hath  not  scope  to  all 
+her  husbands  kynsemen,  but  unto  one  choyce  man  whom  she 
+liketh  best  of  his  house :  to  the  ende  that  the  children  that 
+shalbe  borne,  shalbe  atg^e  least  of  her  husbands  bloude  and 
+kynred.  This  also^confirmeth  the  same,  that  such  a  newe 
+maryed  wife  should%i»  shut  up  with  her  husband,  and  eate 
+a  quince  with  him :  and  t^t  he  also  which  maryeth  such  an 
+inheritour,  should  of  duety  see  her  thryse  a  moneth  at  the 
+least.  For  although  he  get  no  children  of  her,  yet  it  is  an 
+honour  the  husband  doth  to  his  wife,  arguing  that  he  taketh 
+her  for  an  honest  woman,  that  he  loveth  her,  and  that  he 
+esteemeth  of  her.  Besides,  it  taketh  awaye  many  mislikings 
+230 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+and  displeasures  which  oftentimes  happen  in  such  cases,  and     SOLON 
+
+keepeth  love  and  good  will  waking,  that  it  dye  not  utterly 
+
+betweene  them.     Furthermore,  he  tooke  awaye  all  joynters  Solon  forbid- 
+
+and  dowries  in  other  manages,  and  willed  that  the  wives  deth  jointers 
+
+should  bring  their  husbands  but  three  gownes  only,  with  ^^     ownes. 
+
+some  other  litle  moveables  of  small  value,  and  without  any 
+
+other  thing  as  it  were :  utterly  forbidding  that  they  should 
+
+buye  their  husbands,  or  that  they  should  make  marchaundise 
+
+of  manages,  as  of  other  trades  to  gaine,  but  would  that  man 
+
+and  woman  should  marye  together  for  issue,  for  pleasure, 
+
+and  for  love,  but  in  no  case  for  money.     And  for  proofe 
+
+hereof,  Dionysius  the  tyranne  of  Sicile,  one  daye  aunswered  Dionysius 
+
+his  mother  (which  would  needes  be  maried  to  a  young  man  saying  of 
+
+of  Syracusa)  in  this  sorte.      I  have  power  (saieth   he)  to  "^''"^®^- 
+
+breake  the  lawes  of  Syracusa,  by  having  the  Kingdome  :  but 
+
+to  force  the  law  of  nature,  or  to  make  mariage  without  the 
+
+reasonable  compasse  of  age,  that  passeth   my  reache  and 
+
+power.     So  is  it  not  tolerable,  and  much  lesse  allowable  also, 
+
+that  such  disorder  should  be  in  well  ordered  citties,  that  such 
+
+uncomely  and  unfit  manages  should  be  made,  betweene  copies 
+
+of  so   unequall  yeres  :    considering  there  is  no  meete  nor 
+
+necessary  ende  of  such  matches.    A  wise  governour  of  a  cittie, 
+
+or  a  judge  and  reformer  of  lawes  and  manners,  might  well 
+
+saye  to  an  olde  man  that  should  marye  with  a  young  mayde, 
+
+as  the  Poet  sayeth  of  Philoctetes  : 
+
+Ah  seely  wretche,  how  trymme  a  man  arte  thou, 
+at  these  young  yeres,  for  to  be  maryed  nowe  ? 
+
+And  finding  a  young  man  in  an  olde  riche  womans  house, 
+getting  his  living  by  riding  of  her  errants,  and  waxing  fat 
+as  they  saye  the  partridge  doth  by  fading  of  the  hennes  : 
+he  maye  take  him  from  thence,  to  bestowe  him  on  some 
+young  mayde  that  shall  have  neede  fwa.  husband.     And 
+thus  much  for  this   matter.      Bil^they  greatly  commend 
+another  lawe  of  Solons,  which  forbiddeth  to  speake  ill  of  A  law  forbid- 
+the  dead.     For  it  is  a  good  and  godly  thing  to  thinke,  that  ding  to  speake 
+they  ought  not  to  touche  the  dead,  no  more  than  to  touche  ^^'^H  ^^  ^^^ 
+holy  things:  and  men  should  take  great  heede  to  offende 
+those  that  are  departed  out  of  this  world,  besides  it  is  a 
+
+J231 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE   NOBLE 
+
+
+SOLON 
+
+
+♦Drachmae. 
+
+
+A  lawe  for 
+willes  and 
+testaments. 
+
+
+A  lawe  for 
+womens  going 
+abroade. 
+
+
+token  of  wisedome  and  civillitie,  to  beware  of  immortall 
+enemies.  He  commaunded  also  in  the  selfe  same  lawe,  that 
+no  man  should  speake  ill  of  the  living,  specially  in  Churches, 
+during  divine  service,  or  in  counsaill  chamber  of  the  cittie, 
+nor  in  the  Theaters  whilest  games  were  a  playing  :  upon 
+payne  of  three  silver  *Drachmes  to  be  payed  to  him  that  was 
+injured,  and  two  to  the  common  treasurie.  For  he  thought 
+it  to  much  shameles  boldnes,  in  no  place  to  keepe  in  ones 
+choller,  and  moreover,  that  such  lacked  civillitie  and  good 
+manners  :  and  yet  altogether  to  suppresse  and  smother  it,  he 
+knewe  it  was  not  only  a  harde  matter,  but  to  some  natures 
+unpossible.  And  he  that  maketh  lawes,  must  have  regarde 
+to  the  common  possibilitie  of  men,  if  he  will  punishe  litle, 
+with  profitable  example,  and  not  much  without  some  profit. 
+So  was  he  marvelously  well  thought  of,  for  the  lawe  that  he 
+made  touching  willes  and  testaments.  For  before,  men  might 
+not  lawfully  make  their  heires  whom  they  would,  but  the 
+goodes  came  to  the  children  or  kynred  of  the  testatour.  But 
+he  leaving  it  at  libertie,  to  dispose  their  goods  where  they 
+thought  good,  so  they  had  no  children  of  their  owne :  dyd 
+therein  preferre  friendship  before  kynred,  and  good  will  and 
+favour  before  necessitie  and  constrainte,  and  so  made  every 
+one  lorde  and  master  of  his  owne  goodes.  Yet  he  dyd  hot 
+simply  and  a  like  allowe  all  sortes  of  giftes,  howsoever  they 
+were  made :  but  those  only  which  were  made  by  men  of 
+sound  memorie,  or  by  those  whose  wittes  fayled  them  not  by 
+extreme  sicknes,  or  through  drincks,  medicines,  poysonings, 
+charmes,  or  other  such  violence  and  extraordinarie  meanes, 
+neither  yet  through  the  intisements  and  persuasions  of 
+women.  As  thincking  very  wisely,  there  was  no  difference 
+at  all  betweene  those  that  were  evidently  forced  by  constraint, 
+and  those  that  were  compassed  and  wrought  by  subornation 
+at  length  to  doe  a  thing  against  their  will,  taking  fraude  in 
+this  case  equall  with  violence,  and  pleasure  with  sorowe,  as 
+passions  with  madnes,  which  commonly  have  as  much  force 
+the  one  as  the  other,  to  drawe  and  drive  men  from  reason. 
+He  made  another  lawe  also,  in  which  he  appointed  women 
+their  times  to  goe  abroade  into  the  fieldes,  their  mourning, 
+their  feastes  and  sacrifices,  plucking  from  them  all  disorder 
+g32 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+and  wilfull  libertie,  which  they  used  before.  For  he  dyd  SOLON 
+forbid  that  they  should  carie  out  of  the  cittie  with  them 
+above  three  gownes,  and  to  take  vittells  with  them  above  the 
+value  of  an  halfe  pennie,  neither  basket  nor  pannier  above  a 
+cubite  highe :  and  specially  he  dyd  forbid  them  to  goe  in 
+the  night,  other  then  in  their  coche,  and  that  a  torche  should 
+be  caried  before  them.  He  dyd  forbid  them  also  at  the 
+buriall  of  the  dead,  to  teare  and  spoyle  them  selves  with 
+blowes,  to  make  lamentations  in  verses,  to  weepe  at  the 
+funeralles  of  a  straunger  not  being  their  kinseman,  to  sacri- 
+fice an  oxe  on  the  grave  of  the  dead,  to  burie  above  three 
+gownes  with  the  corse,  to  goe  to  other  mens  graves,  but  at 
+the  very  time  of  burying  the  corse :  all  which  or  the  most 
+parte  of  them,  are  forbidden  by  our  lawes  at  this  daye. 
+Moreover,  those  lawes  appointe  a  penaltie  upon  such  women 
+as  oifend  in  the  same,  to  be  distrayned  for,  by  certaine  officers 
+expressely  named,  to  controll  and  reforme  the  abuses  of 
+women,  as  womanish  persones  and  faynte  harted,  which 
+suffer  them  selves  to  be  overcome  with  such  passions  and 
+fondnes  in  their  mourning.  And  perceyving  that  the  cittie 
+of  Athens  beganne  to  replenish  daylie  more  and  more,  by 
+mens  repayring  thither  from  all  partes,  and  by  reason  of  the 
+great  assured  safetie,  and  libertie  that  they  founde  there : 
+and  also  considering  howe  the  greatest  parte  of  the  Realme 
+became  in  manner  heathy,  and  was  very  barren,  and  that 
+men  traffeking  the  seas,  are  not  wonte  to  bring  any  mar- 
+chaundise  to  those,  which  can  geve  them  nothing  againe  in 
+exchaunge :  he  beganne  to  practise  that  his  cittizens  should 
+give  them  selves  unto  craftes  and  occupations,  and  made  a  Craftes  and 
+lawe,  that  the  sonne  should  not  be  bounde  to  relieve  his  occupations 
+father  being  olde,  onles  he  had  set  him  in  his  youth  to  ^  v*""ce  . 
+some  occupation.  It  was  a  wise  parte  of  Lycurgus  (who 
+dwelt  in  a  cittie  where  was  no  resorte  of  straungers,  and  had 
+so  great  a  territorie  as  could  have  furnished  twise  as  many 
+people,  as  Euripides  sayeth,  and  moreover  on  all  sides  was 
+environned  with  a  great  number  of  slaves  of  the  Ilotes,  whom 
+it  was  needefuU  to  keepe  still  in  labour  and  worcke  con- 
+tinually) to  have  his  cittizens  allwayes  occupied  in  exercises 
+of  feates  of  armes,  without  making  them  to  learne  any  other 
+2G  233 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+
+Theauthoritie 
+of  the  courte 
+and  couusaile 
+of  the  Areo- 
+pagites. 
+
+
+SOLON  science,  but  discharged  them  of  all  other  miserable  occupa- 
+tions and  handy  craftes.  But  Solon  framing  his  lawes  unto 
+things,  and  not  things  unto  lawes,  when  he  sawe  the  countrie 
+of  Attica  so  leane  and  barren,  that  it  could  hardely  bring 
+forth  to  susteine  those  that  tilled  the  grounde  only,  and 
+therefore  much  more  impossible  to  keepe  so  great  a  multi- 
+tude of  idle  people  as  were  in  Athens :  thought  it  very 
+requisite  to  set  up  occupations,  and  to  geve  them  counte- 
+naunce  and  estimation.  Therefore  he  ordeined,  that  the 
+counsaill  of  the  Areopagites,  should  have  full  power,  and 
+authoritie  to  enquier  how  every  man  lived  in  the  cittie,  and 
+also  to  punishe  such  as  they  found  idle  people,  and  dyd 
+not  labour.  But  this  was  thought  to  severe  and  straight  a 
+lawe  which  he  ordeined  (as  Heraclides  Ponticus  writeth) 
+that  the  children  borne  of  common  harlotts  and  strumpets 
+should  not  be  bounde  to  relieve  their  fathers.  For  he  that 
+maketh  no  accompt  of  matrimonie,  plainely  sheweth  that  he 
+tooke  not  a  wife  to  have  children,  but  only  to  satisfie  his 
+lust  and  pleasure  :  and  so  such  an  one  hath  his  just  reward, 
+and  is  disapointed  of  the  reverence  that  a  father  ought  to 
+have  of  his  children,  since  through  his  owne  faulte  the  birth 
+of  his  childe  falleth  out  to  his  reproche.  Yet  to  saye  truely, 
+in  Solons  laws  touching  women,  there  are  many  obsurdities, 
+as  they  fall  out  ill  favoredly.  For  he  maketh  it  lawfuU  for 
+any  man  to  kill  an  adulterer  taking  him  with  the  facte. 
+But  he  that  ravisheth  or  forcibly  taketh  awaye  a  free  woman, 
+♦Drachmae.  is  only  condemned  to  paye  a  hundred  silver  *drachmes.  And 
+he  that  was  the  Pandor  to  procure  her,  should  only  paye 
+twenty  drachmes.  Onles  she  had  bene  a  common  strumpet 
+or  curtisan :  for  such  doe  justefy  open  accesse,  to  all  that 
+will  hier  them.  /  Furthermore,  he  doth  forbid  any  persone 
+to  sell  his  daughters  or  sisters,  onles  the  father  or  brother 
+had  taken  them,  abusing  them  selves  before  mariage.  Me 
+thincketh  it  is  farre  from  purpose  and  reason,  with  severitie 
+to  punish  a  thing  in  one  place,  and  over  lightly  to  passe  it 
+over  in  another :  or  to  set  some  light  fine  on  ones  head  for 
+a  great  faulte,  and  after  to  discharge  him,  as  it  were  but  a 
+matter  of  sporte.  Onles  they  will  excuse  it  thus,  that  money 
+being  very  harde  and  scante  at  that  time  in  Athens,  those 
+234 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+fines  were  then  very  great  and  grievous  to  paye.  For  in  SOLON 
+setting  out  the  charges  of  offerings  which  should  be  made 
+in  sacrifices,  he  appointed  a  weather  to  be  a  convenient 
+offering,  and  he  setteth  a  busshell  of  corne  at  a  silver 
+drachme.  More  he  ordeined,  that  they  which  wonne  any  of 
+the  games  at  Athens,  should  paye  to  the  common  treasuric 
+an  hundred  drachmes.  And  those  that  wonne  any  of  the 
+games  Oli/mpkall,  five  hundred  drachmes.  Also  he  ap- 
+pointed that  he  which  brought  a  he  woulfe,  should  have  five 
+drachmes,  and  him  one  drachme  for  reward  of  a  she  woulfe. 
+Whereof  as  Demetrius  Phalerian  writeth  :  the  one  was  the 
+price  of  an  oxe,  and  the  other  of  a  mutton.  For,  touching 
+the  rates  he  ordeined  in  the  sixtenth  table  of  his  lawes 
+mete  for  burnt  sacrifices,  it  is  likely  he  dyd  rate  them  at  a 
+much  higher  price,  then  ordinarilie  they  were  worth :  and 
+yet  notwithstanding,  the  price  which  he  setteth,  is  very  litle 
+in  comparison  of  that  which  they  are  worth  at  this  daye. 
+Nowe  it  was  a  custome  ever  amongest  the  Athenians  to  kill 
+their  woulfes,  bicause  all  their  countrie  laye  for  pasture,  and 
+not  for  tillage.  Some  there  be  that  saye,  the  tribes  of  the  The  tribes  of 
+people  of  Athens  have  not  bene  called  after  the  names  of  ^^^  Athenians 
+the  children  of  Ion,  as  the  common  opinion  hath  bene :  but  |j,°^^  u^A 
+that  they  were  called  after  their  divers  trades  and  manners  of 
+living,  which  they  tooke  them  selves  unto  from  the  beginning. 
+For,  such  as  gave  them  selves  unto  the  warres,  were  called 
+Oplites :  as  who  would  saye,  men  of  armes.  Those  that 
+wrought  in  their  occupations,  were  called  Ergades :  as  much 
+to  saye,  as  men  of  occupation.  The  other  two  which  were 
+husbandmen,  and  followed  the  plough,  were  called  Teleontes : 
+as  you  would  saye,  labouring  men.  And  those  that  kept 
+beastes  and  cattell,  were  called  jEgicores :  as  much  to  saye, 
+as  heard  men.-  Nowe,  forasmuch  as  the  whole  province  of 
+Attica  was  very  drye,  and  had  great  lacke  of  water,  being 
+not  full  of  rivers,  ronning  streames,  nor  lakes,  nor  yet  stored 
+with  any  great  number  of  springs,  insomuch  as  they  are 
+driven  there  to  use  (through  the  most  parte  of  the  countrie) 
+water  drawen  out  of  welles  made  with  mens  handes  :  he  made  An  acte  for 
+such  an  order,  that  where  there  was  any  well  within  the  relies, 
+space  of  an  Hippicon,  that  every  bodye  within  that  circuite, 
+
+235 
+
+
+m 
+
+
+An  acte  for 
+planting  and 
+setting  of 
+trees. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+SOLON  might  come  and  drawe  water  onely  at  that  well,  for  his  use 
+and  necessitie.  Hippicon  is  the  distaunce  of  foure  furlonges, 
+which  is  halfe  a  mile :  and  those  that  dwelt  further  of, 
+should  goe  seeke  their  water  in  other  places  where  they 
+would.  But  if  they  had  digged  tenne  yardes  deepe  in  their 
+grounde,  and  could  finde  no  water  in  the  bottome,  in  this 
+case,  they  might  lawfully  goe  to  their  next  neighbours  well, 
+and  take  a  pot  full  of  water  conteining  six  gallons,  twise  a 
+daye:  judging  it  great  reason  that  necessitie  should  be  holpen, 
+but  not  that  idlenes  should  be  cherished.  He  appointed 
+also  the  spaces  that  should  be  kept  and  observed  Isy  those, 
+that  would  set  or  plant  trees  in  their  ground,  as  being  a 
+man  very  skilfull  in  these  matters.  For  he  ordeined,  that 
+whosoever  would  plante  any  kynde  of  trees  in  his  grounde, 
+he  should  set  them  five  foote  a  sonder  one  from  another : 
+but  for  the  figge  tree  and  olyve  tree  specially,  that  they 
+should  in  any  case  be  nine  foote  a  sonder,  bicause  these  two 
+trees  doe  spread  out  their  branches  farre  of,  and  they  cannot 
+stand  neere  other  trees,  but  they  must  needes  hurte  them  very 
+much.  For  besides  that  they  drawe  awaye  the  same  that 
+doth  nourishe  the  other  trees,  they  cast  also  a  certaine 
+moisture  and  steame  upon  them,  that  is  very  hurtefull  and 
+incommodious.  More  he  ordeined,  that  whosoever  would 
+digge  a  pytte  or  hole  in  his  grounde,  he  should  digge  it  as 
+farre  of  from  his  neighbours  pyt,  as  the  pytte  he  digged  was 
+■^  in  depth  to  the  bottome.     And  he  that  would  set  up  a  hive 
+
+of  bees  in  his  grounde,  he  should  set  them  at  the  least  three 
+hundred  foote  from  other  hives  set  about  him  before.  And 
+of  the  fruites  of  the  earth,  he  was  contented  they  should 
+transporte  and  sell  only  oyle  out  of  the  Realme  to  straungers, 
+but  no  other  fruite  or  graine.  He  ordeined  that  the 
+governour  of  the  cittie  should  yerely  proclaime  open  curses 
+against  those  that  should  doe  to  the  contrarie,  or  els  he  him 
+selfe  making  default  therein,  should  be  fined  at  a  hundred 
+Drachmae.  drachmes.  This  ordinaunce  is  in  the  first  table  of  Solon 
+lawes,  and  therefore  we  maye  not  altogether  discredit  those 
+which  saye,  they  did  forbid  in  the  olde  time  that  men  should 
+carie  figges  out  of  the  countrie  of  Attica,  and  that  from  thence 
+it  came  that  these  picke  thanckes,  which  bewraye  and  accuse 
+236 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROiMANES 
+
+them  that  transported  figges,  were  called  Sijcophantcs.  He  SOLON 
+made  another  lawe  also  against  the  hurte  that  beastes  might 
+doe  unto  men.  Wherein  he  ordeined,  that  if  a  dogge  did 
+bite  any  man,  he  that  ought  him  should  deliver  to  him  that 
+was  bitten,  his  dogge  tyed  to  a  logge  of  timber  of  foure 
+cu bites  longe :  and  this  was  a  very  good  devise,  to  make  men 
+safe  from  dogges.  But  he  was  very  straight  in  one  lawe  he 
+made,  that  no  straunger  might  be  made  denizen  and  free 
+man  of  the  cittie  of  Athens,  onles  he  were  a  banished  man 
+for  ever  out  of  his  countrie,  or  els  that  he  should  come  and 
+dwell  there  with  all  his  familie,  to  exercise  some  crafte  or 
+science.  Notwithstanding,  they  saye  he  made  not  this  lawe 
+so  much  to  put  straungers  from  there  freedome  there,  as  to 
+drawe  them  thither,  assuring  them  by  this  ordinaunce,  they 
+might  come  and  be  free  of  the  cittie :  and  he  thought  more- 
+over,  that  both  the  one  and  the  other  would  be  more  faith- 
+full  to  the  common  weale  of  Athens.  The  one  of  them,  for 
+that  against  their  willes  they  were  driven  to  forsake  their 
+countrie  :  and  the  other  sorte,  for  that  advisedly  and  willingly 
+they  were  contented  to  forsake  it.  This  also  was  another  of 
+Solons  lawes,  which  he  ordeined  for  those  that  should  feast 
+certen  dayes  at  the  towne  house  of  the  cittie,  at  other  mens  Feasts  for 
+cost.  For  he  would  not  allow,  that  one  man  should  come  tonnes  men 
+often  to  feasts  there.  And  if  any  man  were  invited  thither  i,"i|  f^th°^ 
+to  the  feast,  and  dyd  refuse  to  come  :  he  dyd  set  a  fine  on 
+his  head,  as  reproving  the  miserable  niggardlines  of  the  one, 
+and  the  presumptuous  arrogancy  of  the  other,  to  contemne 
+and  despise  common  order.  After  he  had  made  his  lawes, 
+he  dyd  stablishe  them  to  continewe  for  the  space  of  one 
+hundred  yeres,  and  they  were  ^vritten  in  tables  of  wood 
+called  Axones^  which  were  made  more  long  then  broade,  in  Axones. 
+the  which  they  were  graven :  whereof  there  remaine  some 
+monuments  yet  in  our  time,  which  are  to  be  scene  in  the 
+towne  hall  of  the  cittie  of  Athens.  Aristotle  sayeth,  that 
+these  tables  were  called  Cyrhes.  And  Cratinus  also  the  Cyrbes. 
+Comicall  poet  sayeth  in  one  place,  of  Solon  and  Dracon : 
+that  Cyrbes  was  a  vessell  or  panne  wherein  they  dyd  frye 
+millet  or  hirse.  Howbeit  others  saye,  that  Cyrhes  properly 
+were  the  tables,    which  conteined   the   ordinaunces  of  the 
+
+237 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+SOLON      sacrifices  :  and  Axones  were  the  other  tables,  that  concerned 
+the  common  weale.     So,  all  the  counsels  and  magistrates 
+together  dyd  sweare,  that   they  would  kepe  Solons  lawes 
+them  selves,  and  also  cause  them  to  be  observed  of  others 
+"hesmo-  throughly  and  particularly.     Then  every  one  of  the  Thesmo- 
+
+hetes.  thetes  (which  were  certaine  officers  attendaunt  on  the  counsell, 
+
+and  had  speciall  charge  to  see  the  lawes  observed)  dyd 
+solemnly  sweare  in  the  open  market  place,  neere  the  stone 
+where  the  proclamations  are  proclaimed  :  and  every  of  them, 
+both  promised,  and  vowed  openly  to  keepe  the  same  lawes, 
+and  that  if  any  of  them  dyd  in  any  one  pointe  breake  the 
+said  ordinaunces,  then  they  were  content  that  such  offender 
+should  paye  to  the  temple  of  Apollo,  at  the  cittie  of  Delphes, 
+an  image  of  fine  golde,  that  should  waye  as  much  as  him  self. 
+Moreover  Solon  seeing  the  disorder  of  the  moneths,  and  the 
+moving  of  the  moone,  which  followed  not  the  course  of  the 
+sunne,  and  used  not  to  rise  and  fall  when  the  sunne  doth, 
+but  oftetimes  in  one  daye,  it  doth  both  touche  and  passe  the 
+sunne :  he  was  the  first  that  called  the  chaunge  of  the  moone, 
+Enecdi  nea,  as  much  as  to  say,  as  '  olde  and  newe  moone.' 
+Allowing  that  which  appeared  before  the  conjunction,  to  be 
+of  the  moneth  past :  and  that  which  shewed  it  self  after  the 
+conjunction,  to  be  of  the  moneth  following.  And  he  was 
+the  first  also  (in  my  opinion)  that  understoode  Homer 
+rightly,  when  he  sayed :  Then  beginneth  the  moneth  when  it 
+endeth.  The  day  following  the  chaunge,  he  called  Neomenia, 
+as  much  to  saye,  as  '  the  newe  moneth,'  or  '  the  newe  moone." 
+After  the  twenty  day  of  the  moneth  which  they  called  Icada^ 
+he  reckoned  not  the  rest  of  the  moneth,  as  increasing,  but  as 
+in  the  wane  :  and  gathered  it  by  seing  the  light  of  the  moone 
+decreasing  untill  the  thirtie  day.  Now  after  his  lawes  were 
+come  abroade,  and  proclaimed,  there  came  some  daylie  unto 
+him,  which  either  praised  them,  or  misliked  them  :  and  prayed 
+him  either  to  take  awaye,  or  to  adde  some  thing  unto  them. 
+Many  againe  came  and  asked  him,  howe  he  understoode  some 
+sentence  of  his  lawes :  and  requested  him  to  declare  his 
+meaning,  and  how  it  should  be  taken.  Wherefore  consider- 
+ing howe  it  were  to  no  purpose  to  refuse  to  doe  it,  and 
+againe  howe  it  would  get  him  much  envie  and  ill  will  to 
+238 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+yelde  thereunto :   he  determined  (happen  what  would)  to     SOLON 
+winde  him  selfe  out  of  these  bryars,  and  to  flye  the  gronings, 
+complaints,  and  quarrells  of  his  cittizens.     For  he  sayeth 
+him  selfe : 
+
+Full  harde  it  is,  all  mindes  content  to  have, 
+and  specially  in  matters  harde  and  grave. 
+
+So,  to  convey  him  self  a  while  out  of  the  waye,  he  tooke 
+upon  him  to  be  master  of  a  shippe  in  a  certaine  voyage,  and 
+asked  licence  for  tenne  yeres  of  the  Athenians  to  goe  beyond 
+sea,  hoping  by  that  time  the  Athenians  would  be  very  well 
+acquainted  with  his  lawes.  So  went  he  to  the  seas,  and  the  Solons 
+first  place  of  his  arrivall  was  in  Egypt,  where  he  remained  a  travell. 
+while,  as  he  him  self  sayeth. 
+
+Even  there  where  Nylus,  with  his  crooked  crankes 
+by  Canobe,  falles  into  the  sea  banckes. 
+
+He  went  to  his  booke  there,  and  dyd  conferre  a  certaine 
+time  with  Psenophis  Heliopolitan,  and  Sonchis  Saltan,  two 
+of  the  wisest  priestes  at  that  time  that  were  in  Egypt :  whom 
+when  he  heard  rehearse  the  storie  of  the  lies  Atlantides  as 
+Plato  writeth,  he  proved  to  put  the  same  in  verse,  and  dyd 
+send  it  abroade  through  Grece.  At  his  departure  out  of 
+Egypt  he  went  into  Cyprus,  where  he  had  great  curtesy  and 
+friendship  of  one  of  the  princes  of  that  countrie,  called 
+Philocyprus,  who  was  lorde  of  a  prety  litle  cittie  which 
+Demophon  (Theseus  sonne)  caused  to  be  built  upon  the  river 
+of  Clarie,  and  was  of  a  goodly  strong  situation,  but  in  a  very  Clarius  fl. 
+leane  and  barren  countrie.  Whereupon  Solon  tolde  him,  it 
+would  doe  better  a  great  deale  to  remove  it  out  of  that  place, 
+into  a  very  fayer  and  pleasaunt  valley  that  laye  underneath 
+it,  and  there  to  make  it  larger  and  statelier  then  it  was  : 
+which  was  done  according  to  his  persuasion.  And  Solon  self 
+being  present  at  it,  was  made  overseer  of  the  buildings, 
+which  he  dyd  helpe  to  devise  and  order  in  good  sorte,  aswell 
+in  respect  of  pleasure,  as  for  force  and  defence  :  insomuch  as 
+many  people  came  from  other  places  to  dwell  there.  And 
+herein  many  other  lordes  of  the  countrie  dyd  followe  th' 
+example  of  this  Philocyprus,  who  to  honour  Solon,  called 
+
+239 
+
+
+SOLON 
+
+iEpia  called 
+Soles. 
+
+
+Solon  sawe 
+king  Croesus 
+in  the  cittie 
+of  Sardis. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+his  cittie  Soles,  which  before  was  called  ^pia,  Solon  in  his 
+Elegies  maketh  mention  of  this  foundation,  directing  his 
+wordes  unto  Philocyprus,  as  followeth : 
+
+So  graunt  the  goddes,  that  thou,  and  thine  offspring 
+
+maye  clyme  to  great,  and  passing  princely  state  : 
+
+long  time  to  live,  in  Soles  florishing. 
+And  that  they  graunt,  my  shippe  and  me  good  gate 
+
+when  I  from  hence,  by  seas  shall  take  my  waye  : 
+
+that  with  her  harpe,  dame  Venus  doe  vouchesafe 
+
+to  waft  me  still,  untill  she  maye  conveye 
+
+my  selfe  againe,  into  my  countrey  safe. 
+Since  I  have  bene,  the  only  meane  and  man, 
+
+which  here  to  build,  this  cittie  first  beganne. 
+
+And  as  for  the  meeting  and  talke  betwext  him  and  king 
+Croesus,  I  know  there  are  that  by  distance  of  time  will  prove  it 
+but  a  fable,  and  devised  of  pleasure :  but  for  my  parte  I  will 
+not  reject,  nor  condemne  so  famous  an  historic,  received  and 
+approved  by  so  many  grave  testimonies.  Moreover  it  is  very 
+agreable  to  Solons  manners  and  nature,  and  also  not  unlike  to 
+his  wisedom  and  magnanimitie :  although  in  all  pointes  it 
+agreeth  not  with  certaine  tables  (which  they  call  Chronicles) 
+where  they  have  busily  noted  the  order  and  course  of  times 
+which  even  to  this  daye,  many  have  curiously  sought  to 
+correct,  and  could  yet  never  discusse  it,  nor  accorde  all 
+contrarieties  and  manifest  repugnaunces  in  the  same.  Solon 
+at  the  desire  and  request  of  Croesus,  went  to  see  him  in  the 
+cittie  of  Sardis.  When  Solon  was  come  thither,  he  seemed  to 
+be  in  the  selfe  same  taking  that  a  man  was  once  reported  to 
+be  :  who  being  borne  and  bred  up  on  the  mayne  lande,  and 
+had  never  scene  the  sea  neither  farre  nor  neere,  did  imagine 
+every  river  that  he  sawe  had  bene  the  sea.  So  Solon  passing 
+alongest  Croesus  palace,  and  meeting  by  the  waye  many  of 
+the  lordes  of  his  courte  richely  apparelled,  and  carying  great 
+traines  of  serving  men,  and  souldiers  about  them  :  thought 
+ever  that  one  of  them  had  bene  the  King,  untill  he  was 
+brought  unto  Croesus  selfe.  Who  was  passing  richely 
+arrayed,  what  for  precious  stones  and  juells,  and  for  riche 
+cullered  silkes,  layed  on  with  curious  goldsmithes  worke,  and 
+all  to  shewe  him  self  to  Solon  in  most  stately,  sumptuous, 
+
+240 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+and  magnificent  manner.     Who  perceiving  by  Solons  repayre     SOLON 
+to  his  presence,  that  he  shewed  no  manner  of  signe,  nor 
+countenance  of  woundring,  to  see  so  great  a  state  before 
+him,  neither  had  geven  out  any  word  neere  or  likely  to  that 
+which  Croesus  looked  for  in  his  owne  imagination,  but  rather 
+had   delivered  speaches  for  men  of  judgement  and   under- 
+standing to  know,  how  inwardly  he  much  did  mislike  Croesus 
+foolish  vanitie  and  base  minde  :  then  Croesus  commaunded  all 
+his  treasuries  to  be  opened  where  his  golde  and  silver  laye, 
+next  that  they  should  shewe  him  his  riche  and  sumptuous 
+wardroppes,  although  that  needed  not :  for  to  see  Croesus 
+self,    it  was  enough   to  discerne  his  nature  and  condition. 
+After  he  had  seene  all  over  and  over,  being  brought  againe 
+unto  the  presence  of  the  King :  Croesus  asked  him,  if  ever  he  Croesus  ques- 
+had  seene  any  man  more  happy  than  him   self  was  ?  Solon  ^^^"^  *?  Solon 
+aunswered  him,  I  have :  and  that  was  one  Tellus  a  cittizen  jjappjn'^f 
+of  Athens,  who  was  a  marvelous  honest  man,  and  had  left 
+his  children  behind  him  in  good  estimation,  and  well  to  live,  Solon 
+and  lastly,  was  most  happy  at  his  death,  by  dying  honorably  esteemed 
+in  the  field,  in  defence  of  his  countrie.     Croesus  hearing  this  ^  ^.^  ^ 
+aunswer,  beganne  to  judge  him  a  man  of  litle  witte,  or  of 
+grosse  understanding,  bicause  he  did  not  thincke  that  to  have 
+store  of  gold  and  silver,  was  the  only  joye  and  felicitie  of 
+the  world,  and  that  he  would  preferre  the  life  and  death  of 
+a  meane  and  private  man  as  more  happy,  than  all  the  riches 
+and  power  of  so  mightie  a  King.     Notwithstanding  all  this, 
+Croesus  yet  asked  him  again  :  What  other  man  beside  Tellus 
+he  had  seene  happier  than  him  self?     Solon  aunswered  him, 
+that   he   had  seene   Cleobis   and   Biton,  which   were   both  Cleobis  and 
+brethern,  and  loved  one  another  singularly  well,  and  their  Biton,  happy 
+mother  in  such  sorte :  that  upon  a  solemne  festivall  daye,  "^^"' 
+when  she  should  goe  to  the  temple  of  luno  in  her  coche 
+drawen  with  oxen :    bicause  they  taried  to  long  ere  they 
+could  be  brought,  they  both  willingly  yoked  them  selves  by 
+the  necks,  and  drue  their  mothers  coche  in  stead  of  the  oxen, 
+which  marvelously  rejoyced  her,  and  she  was  thought  most 
+happy  of  all  other,  to  have  borne  two  such  sonnes.     After- 
+wards when  they  had   done  sacrifice  to  the  goddesse,  and 
+made  good  cheere  at  the  feast  of  this  sacrifice,  they  went  to 
+2  H  241 
+
+
+SOLON 
+
+
+Solon  com- 
+mendeth  the 
+meane. 
+
+
+No  man 
+liappie  before 
+his  ende. 
+
+
+^sops  saying 
+to  Solon. 
+
+
+Solons 
+aunswer  to 
+iSlsope. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+bed :  but  they  rose  not  againe  the  next  morning,  for  they 
+were  found  dead  >vithout  suffering  hurte  or  sorowe,  after 
+they  had  receyved  so  much  glorie  and  honour.  Croesus 
+then  could  no  longer  bridell  in  his  pacience,  but  breaking 
+out  in  ch  oiler,  sayed  unto  him  :  Why,  doest  thou  recken  me 
+than  in  no  degree  of  happy  men  ?  Solon  would  neither 
+flatter  him,  nor  further  increase  his  heate,  but  aunswered 
+him  thus :  O  King  of  Lydians,  the  godds  have  geven  us 
+Grecians  all  things  in  a  meane,  and  amongest  other  things 
+chiefly,  a  base  and  popular  wisedome,  not  princely  nor  noble : 
+which,  considering  howe  mans  life  is  subject  to  infinite 
+chaunges,  doth  forbid  us  to  trust  or  glorie  in  these  worldly 
+riches.  For  time  bringeth  daylie  misfortunes  unto  man, 
+which  he  never  thought  of,  nor  looked  for.  But  when  the 
+goddes  have  continued  a  mans  good  fortune  to  his  end,  then 
+we  thinke  that  man  happy  and  blessed,  and  never  before. 
+Otherwise,  if  we  should  judge  a  man  happy  that  liveth, 
+considering  he  is  ever  in  daunger  of  chaunge  during  life :  we 
+should  be  much  like  to  him,  who  judgeth  him  the  victorie 
+before  hande,  that  is  still  a  fighting,  and  maye  be  over- 
+comen,  having  no  suertie  yet  to  carie  it  away.  After  Solon 
+liad  spoken  these  words,  he  departed  from  the  Kings 
+presence,  and  returned  backe  againe,  leaving  king  Croesus 
+off'ended,  but  nothing  the  wiser,  nor  amended.  Nowe  ^sope 
+that  wrote  the  fables,  being  at  that  time  in  the  cittie  of 
+Sardis,  and  sent  for  thither  by  the  King,  who  entertained 
+him  very  honorably :  was  very  sorie  to  see  that  the  King 
+had  geven  Solon  no  better  entertainement :  so  by  waye  of 
+advise  he  said  unto  him  :  O  Solon,  either  we  must  not  come 
+to  princes  at  all,  or  els  we  must  seeke  to  please  and  content 
+them.  But  Solon  turning  it  to  the  contrary,  aunswered 
+him  :  Either  we  must  not  come  to  princes,  or  we  must  needes 
+tell  them  truely,  and  counsell  them  for  the  best.  So  Croesus 
+made  light  accompt  of  Solon  at  that  time.  But  after  he 
+had  lost  the  battell  against  Cyrus,  and  that  liis  cittie  was 
+taken,  him  self  became  prisoner,  and  was  bounde  fast  to  a 
+gibbet,  over  a  great  stacke  of  wood,  to  be  burnt  in  the  sight 
+of  all  the  Persians,  and  of  Cyrus  his  enemie :  he  then  cried 
+out  as  lowde  as  he  could,  thryse  together  :  O  Solon.  Cyrus 
+242 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+being  abashed,  sent  to  aske  him,  whether  this  Solon  he  only     SOLON 
+cried  upon  in  his  extreme  miserie,  was  a  god  or  man.    Croesus  King  Croesus 
+kept  it  not  secret  from  him,  but  sayed :  He  was  one  of  the  wordes  of 
+wise  men  of  Grece,  whom  I  sent  for  to  come  unto  me  on  a  ^olon  hang- 
+certaine  time,  not  to  learne  any  thing  of  him  which  I  stoode  "-f^jg^  ^^  ^g 
+in  neede  of,  but  only  that  he  might  witnesse  my  felicitie,  burnt, 
+which  then  I  dyd  enjoye :  the  losse  whereof  is  nowe  more 
+hortefull,  than  the  enjoying  of  the  same  was  good  or  profit- 
+able.    But  nowe  (alas)  to  late  I  know  it,  that  the  riches  I  Riches  are 
+possessed  then,  were  but  words  and  opinion,  all  which  are  but  wordes 
+turned  now  to  my  bitter  sorowe,  and  to  present  and  remediles  ^      opinion, 
+calamitie.     Which  the  wise  Grecian  considering  then,  and 
+foreseeing  a  farre  of  by  my  doings  at  that  time,  the  instant 
+miserie  I  suffer  nowe :  gave  me  warning  I  should  marke  the 
+ende  of  my  life,  and  that  I  should  not  to  farre  presume  of 
+my  selfe,  as  puffed  up  then  with  vaine  glorie  of  opinion  of 
+happines,  the  ground  therof  being  so  slippery,  and  of  so 
+litle  suertie.     These  wordes  being  reported  unto  Cyrus,  who 
+was  wiser  than  Croesus,  and  seeing  Solons  saying  confirmed 
+by  so  notable  an  example :  he  dyd  not  only  deliver  Croesus 
+from  present  perill  of  death,  but  ever  after  honoured  him  so 
+long  as  he  lived.     Thus  had  Solon  glorie,  for  saving  the 
+honour  of  one  of  these  Kings  :  and  the  life  of  the  other,  by 
+his  grave  and  wise  counsaill.     But  during  the  time  of  his 
+absence,  great  seditions  rose  at  Athens  amongest  the  inhabi-  Sedition  at 
+tants,  who  had  gotten  them  severall  heades  amongest  them  :  Athens  in 
+as  those  of  the  vallie  had  made  Lycurgus  their  head.     The  '^"^^^^ 
+coast  men,  Megacles,  the  sonne  of  Alcmaeon.     And  those  of 
+the  mountaines,  Pisistratus :  with  whom  all  artificers  and 
+crafts  men  living  of  their  handle  labour  were  joyned,  which 
+were  the  sto^vtest  against  the  riche.     So  that  notwithstand- 
+ing the  cittie  kept  Solons  lawes  and  ordinaunces,  yet  was 
+there  not  that  man  but  gaped  for  a  chaunge,  and  desired  to 
+see  things  in  another   state :    either   parties   hoping   their 
+condition  would  mende  by  chaunge,  and  that  every  of  them 
+should  be  better  than  their  adversaries.     The  whole  common 
+weale  broyling  thus  with  troubles,  Solon  arrived  at  Athens,  Solon  return- 
+where  every  man  did  honour  and  reverence  him,  howbeit  he  eth  to  Athens, 
+was  no  more  able  to  speake  alowde  in  open  assembly  to  the 
+
+243 
+
+
+Pisistratus 
+wicked  crafte 
+and  subtiltie. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+SOLON      people,  nor  to  deale  in  matters  as  he  had  done  before,  bicause 
+his  age  would  not  suffer  him :  and  therefore  he  spake  with 
+every  one  of  the  heades  of  the  severall  factions  a  parte, 
+trying  if  he  could  agree  and  reconcile  them  together  againe. 
+Whereunto  Pisistratus  seemed  to  be  more  willing  then  any 
+of  the  rest,  for  he  was  curteous,  and  marvelous  fayer  spoken, 
+and  shewed  him  selfe  besides,  very  good  and  pittiefull  to  the 
+poore,  and  temperate  also  to  his  enemies  :    further,  if  any 
+good  quality  were  lacking  in  him,  he  dyd  so  finely  counter- 
+feate  it,  that  men  imagined  it  was  more  in  him,  than  in 
+those  that  naturally  had  it  in  them  in  deede.     As  to  be  a 
+quiet  man,  no  medler,  contented  with  his  owne,  aspiring  no 
+higher,  and  hating  those  which  would  attempt  to  chaunge 
+the  present  state  of  the  common  weale,  and  would  practise 
+any  innovation.     By  this  arte  and  fine  manner  of  his,  he 
+deceyved  the  poore  common  people.     Howbeit  Solon  found 
+him  straight,  and  sawe  the  marke  he  shot  at :  but  yet  hated 
+him  not  at  that  time,  and  sought  still  to  winne  him,  and 
+bring  him  to  reason,  saying  oftetimes,  both  to  him  selfe,  and 
+to  others.     That  who  so  could  plucke  out  of  his  head  the 
+worme  of  ambition,  by  which  he  aspired  to  be  the  chiefest, 
+and  could  heale  him  of  his  greedy  desire  to  rule  :  there  could 
+not  be  a  man  of  more  vertue,  or  a  better  cittizen  than  he 
+Thespis  a         would  prove.     About  this  time  beganne  Thespis  to  set  out 
+maker  of         his  tragedies,  which  was  a  thing  that  much  delited  the  people 
+tragedies.         £qj.  ^|^g  rarenes  thereof,  being  not  many  poets  yet  in  number, 
+to   strive   one   against   another  for  victorie,  as   afterwards 
+there  were.     Solon  being  naturally  desirous  to  heare  and 
+learne,  and  by  reason  of  his  age  seeking  to  passe  his  time 
+awaye  in  sportes,  in  musicke,  and  making  good  cheere  more 
+then  ever  he  dyd :  went  one  daye  to  see  Thespis,  who  played 
+a  parte  him  selfe,  as  the  olde  facion  of  the  Poets  was,  and 
+after  the  playe  was  ended,  he  called  him  to  him,  and  asked 
+Solon  reprov-   him :  if  he  were  not  ashamed  to  lye  so  openly  in  the  face 
+ed  Thespis       of  the  worlde.     Thespis  aunswered  him,  that  it   was  not 
+for  lying.         materiall  to  doe  or  saye  any  such  things,  considering  all  was 
+but  in  sporte.     Then  Solon  beating  the  grounde  with  his 
+staffe  he  had  in  his  hande :  But  if  we  commend  lying  in 
+sporte  (quoth  he)  we  shall  finde  it  afterwards  in  good  earnest, 
+244 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+in  all  our  bargaines  and  dealings.  Shortely  after  Pisistratus 
+having  wounded  him  self,  and  bloudied  all  his  bodie  over, 
+caused  his  men  to  carie  him  in  his  coche  into  the  market 
+place,  where  he  put  the  people  in  an  uprore,  and  tolde  them 
+that  they  were  his  enemies  that  thus  traiterously  had  handled 
+and  arraied  him,  for  that  he  stoode  with  them  about  the 
+governing  of  the  common  weale  :  insomuch  as  many  of  them 
+were  marvelously  offended,  and  mutined  by  and  by,  crying 
+out  it  was  shamefully  done.  Then  Solon  drawing  neere 
+sayed  unto  him,  O  thou  sonne  of  Hippocrates,  thou  doest 
+ill  favoredly  counterfeate  the  persone  of  Homers  Vlysses  :  for 
+thou  hast  whipped  thy  self  to  deceive  thy  cittizens,  as  he  did 
+teare  and  scratch  him  self,  to  deceive  his  enemies.  Not- 
+withstanding this,  the  common  people  were  still  in  uprore, 
+being  ready  to  take  amies  for  Pisistratus  :  and  there  was  a 
+generall  counsell  assembled,  in  the  which  one  Ariston  spake, 
+that  they  should  graunte  fiftie  men,  to  cary  holberds  and 
+mases  before  Pisistratus  for  garde  of  his  persone.  But  Solon 
+going  up  into  the  pulpit  for  orations,  stowtely  invayed  against 
+it :  and  persuaded  the  people  with  many  reasons,  like  unto 
+these  he  wrote  afterwards  in  verse : 
+
+Eche  one  of  you  (O  men)  in  private  actes^ 
+can  playe  the  foxe,  for  slye  and  subtill  craft ' 
+
+But  when  you  come,  yfore  (in  all  your  factes) 
+then  are  you  blinde,  dull  witted  and  bedaft. 
+
+For  pleasaunt  speache,  and  painted  flatterie, 
+beguile  you  still,  the  which  you  never  spye. 
+
+But  in  the  ende,  seeing  the  poore  people  dyd  tumult  still, 
+taking  Pisistratus  parte,  and  that  the  riche  fled  here  and 
+there,  he  went  his  waye  also,  saying :  he  had  shewed  him 
+selfe  wiser  than  some,  and  hardier  than  other.  Meaning, 
+wiser  than  those  which  sawe  not  Pisistratus  reache  and  fetche  : 
+and  hardier  than  they  which  knewe  very  well  he  dyd  aspire 
+to  be  King,  and  yet  nevertheles  durst  not  resist  him.  The 
+people  went  on  with  the  motion  of  Ariston,  and  authorised 
+the  same,  touching  the  graunte  of  halberders :  limiting  no 
+number,  but  suffered  him  to  have  about  him  and  to  assemble, 
+as  many  as  he  would,  untill  such  time  as  he  had  gotten 
+possession  of  the  castell.     Then  the  cittie  was  marvelously 
+
+245 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+SOLON  affrayed  and  amazed  :  and  presently  Megacles,  and  all  those 
+which  were  of  the  house  of  the  Alcmeonides  dyd  flye.  Solon, 
+who  for  yeares  was  now  at  his  last  cast,  and  had  no  man  to 
+sticke  unto  him :  went  notwithstanding  into  the  market 
+place,  and  spake  to  the  cittizens  whom  he  found  there,  and 
+rebuked  their  beastlines,  and  faynte  cowardly  hartes,  and 
+encouraged  them  not  to  lose  their  libertie.  He  spake  at 
+that  time  notably,  and  worthie  memorie,  which  ever  after 
+was  remembred.  Before  sayed  he,  you  might  more  easely 
+have  stayed  this  present  tyrannic :  but  nowe  that  it  is 
+already  facioned,  you  shall  winne  more  glorie,  utterly  to 
+suppresse  it.  But  for  all  his  goodly  reasons,  he  found  no 
+man  that  would  hearken  to  him,  they  were  all  so  amazed. 
+Wherefore  he  hied  him  home  againe,  and  tooke  his  weapons 
+out  of  his  house,  and  layed  them  before  his  gate  in  the 
+middest  of  the  streete,  saying  :  For  my  parte,  I  have  done 
+what  I  can  possible,  to  helpe  and  defend  the  lawes  and 
+liberties  of  my  countrie.  So  from  that  time  he  betooke 
+him  selfe  unto  his  ease,  and  never  after  delt  any  more  in 
+matters  of  state,  or  common  weale.  His  friends  dyd  counsel! 
+8olons  him  to  flye  :  but  all  they  could  not  persuade  him  to  it.    For 
+
+libertie  and      he  kept  his  house,  and  gave  him  selfe  to  make  verses :  in 
+constancie.       which  he  sore  reproved  the  Athenians  faults,  saying : 
+
+If  presently,  your  burden  heavy  be  : 
+yet  murmure  not  against  the  godds  therefore. 
+
+The  fault  is  yours,  as  you  your  selves  maye  see, 
+which  graunted  have  of  mightie  mars  the  lore, 
+to  such  as  nowe,  by  your  direction 
+doe  holde  your  necks,  in  this  subjection. 
+
+His  friends  hereupon  dyd  wame  him,  to  beware  of  such 
+speaches,  and  to  take  hede  what  he  sayed :  least  if  it  came 
+unto  the  tyrannes  eares,  he  might  put  him  to  death  [for  it. 
+And  further,  they  asked  him  wherein  he  trusted,  that  he 
+spake  so  boldly.  He  aunswered  them  :  In  my  age.  Howbeit 
+Pisistratus  after  he  had  obteined  his  purpose,  sending  for 
+him  upon  his  worde  and  faith,  dyd  honour  and  entertaine 
+him  so  well,  that  Solon  in  the  ende  became  one  of  his  coun- 
+saill,  and  approved  many  things  which  he  dyd.  For  Pisis- 
+tratus him  selfe  dyd  straightly  keepe,  and  caused  his  friends 
+
+246 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+to  keepe  Solons  lawes.     Insomuch  as  when  he  was  called  by     SOLON 
+
+proces  into  the  courte  of  the  Areopagites  for  a  murther, 
+
+even  at  that  time  when  he  was  a  tyrante :  he  presented  him 
+
+selfe  very  modestly  to  aunswer  his  accusation,  and  to  purge 
+
+him  selfe  thereof.     But  his  accuser  let  fall  the  matter,  and 
+
+followed  it  no  further.     Pisistratus  him  selfe  also  dyd  make 
+
+newe  lawes  :  as  this.     That  he  that  had  bene  maymed,  and  A  good  lawe 
+
+made  lame  of  any  member  in  the  warres,  should  be  main-  for  reward  of 
+
+teined  all  his  life  long,  at  the  common  charges  of  the  cittie.  service. 
+
+The  selfe  same  was  before  decreed  by  Thersippus  (as  Hera- 
+
+clides  writeth)  by  Solons  persuasion  :  who  dyd  preferre  it  to 
+
+the   counsell.      Pisistratus   afterwards   tooke   holde  of  the 
+
+motion,  and  from  thence  forth  made  it   a  generall  lawe. 
+
+Theophrastus  sayeth  also,  it  was  Pisistratus,  and  not  Solon, 
+
+that  made  the  lawe  for  idlenes  :   which  was  the  only  cause 
+
+that  the  countrie  of  Attica  became  more  fruitefull,  being 
+
+better  manured  :  and  the  cittie  of  Athens  waxed  more  quiet. 
+
+But  Solon  having  begonne  to  write  the  storie  of  the  lies 
+
+Atlantides  in  verse  (which  he  had  learned  of  the  wise  men  of 
+
+the  cittie  of  Sais  in  Egypt,  and  was  very  necessary  for  the 
+
+Athenians)  grewe  wearye,  and  gave  it  over  in   mid  waye  : 
+
+not  for  any  matters  or  busines  that  troubled  him,  as  Plato 
+
+sayed,  but  only  for  his  age,  and  bicause  he  feared  the  tedi- 
+
+ousnes  of  the  worke.     For  otherwise  he  had  leysure  enough, 
+
+as  appeareth  by  his  verses  where  he  sayeth  : 
+
+I  growe  olde,  and  yet  I  learne  still. 
+
+And  in  another  place  where  he  sayeth, 
+
+Nowe  Venus  yeldes  me  swete  delights, 
+
+and  Bacchus  lends  me  comfort  still  : 
+
+the  muses  eke,  refreshe  my  sprights, 
+
+and  much  relieve  my  weary  wiD. 
+These  be  the  pointes  of  perfect  ease, 
+
+which  all  mens  mindes  oftetimes  doe  please. 
+
+Plato  afterwards  for  beawtifying  of  the  storie  and  fables 
+of  the  lies  Atlantides,  was  desirous  to  dilate  them  out  at 
+length,  as  if  he  would  by  waye  of  speache  have  broken  up 
+a  field  or  laye  lande  of  his  owne,  or  that  this  gifte  had 
+descended  to  him  of  right  from  Solon.     He  beganne  to  raise 
+
+247 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+SOLON  up  a  stately  fronte  unto  the  same,  and  enclosed  it  with  high 
+walles,  and  large  squared  courtes  at  the  entrie  thereof :  such 
+was  it,  as  never  any  other  worke,  fable,  or  poeticall  invention 
+had  ever  so  notable,  or  the  like.  But  bicause  he  beganne  a 
+litle  to  late,  he  ended  his  life  before  his  worke,  leaving  the 
+readers  more  sorowfull  for  that  was  left  unwritten,  than  they 
+tooke  pleasure  in  that  they  founde  written.  For  even  as  in 
+the  cittie  of  Athens,  the  temple  of  lupiter  Olympian  only 
+remained  unperfect  :  so  the  wisdome  of  Plato  (amongest 
+many  goodly  matters  of  his  that  have  come  abroade)  left 
+none  of  them  unperfect,  but  the  only  tale  of  the  lies  Atlan- 
+tides.  Solon  lived  long  time  after  Pisistratus  had  usurped 
+the  tyrannic,  as  Heraclides  Ponticus  writeth.  Howbeit 
+Phanias  Ephesian  writeth,  that  he  lived  not  above  two  yeres 
+after.  For  Pisistratus  usurped  tyrannicall  power  in  the  yere 
+that  Comias  was  chief  governour  in  Athens.  And  Phanias 
+writeth,  that  Solon  dyed  in  the  yere  that  Hegestratus  was 
+governour,  which  was  the  next  yere  after  that.  And  where 
+some  saye,  the  ashes  of  his  laodie  were  after  his  death 
+strawed  abroade  through  the  He  of  Salamina:  that 
+seemeth  to  be  but  a  fable,  and  altogether  untrue. 
+Nevertheles  it  hath  bene  written  by  many  notable 
+authours,  and  amongest  others,  by  Aristotle 
+the  philosopher. 
+
+THE  EXDE  OF  SOLONS  LIFE 
+
+
+248 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+
+THE  LIFE  OF  PUBLIUS 
+VALERIUS  PUBLICOLA 
+
+
+OWE  we  have  declared  what  Solon  was,  we 
+have  thought  good  to  compare  him  with 
+Publicola,  to  whom  the  Romaine  people 
+for  an  honour  gave  that  surname  :  for 
+he  was  called  before  Publius  Valerius, 
+descended  from  that  auncient  Valerius, 
+who  was  one  of  the  chiefest  worckers  and 
+meanes,  to  bring  the  Romaines  and  the 
+Sabynes  that  were  mortall  enemies,  to  joyne  together  as 
+one  people.  For  it  was  he  that  most  movea  the  two  Kings 
+to  agree,  and  joyne  together.  Publicola  being  descended  of 
+him,  whilest  the  Kings  dyd  rule  yet  at  Rome,  was  in  very 
+great  estimation,  aswell  for  his  eloquence,  as  for  his  riches : 
+using  the  one  rightly  and  freely,  for  the  maintenaunce  of 
+justice,  and  the  other  liberally  and  curteously,  for  the  relief 
+of  the  poore.  So  that  it  was  manifest,  if  the  Realme  came 
+to  be  converted  into  a  publicke  state,  he  should  be  one  of 
+the  chiefest  men  of  the  same.  It  chaunced  that  king 
+Tarquine  surnamed  the  prowde,  being  come  to  the  crowne 
+by  no  good  lawfuU  meane,  but  contrarylie  by  indirect  and 
+wicked  wayes,  and  behaving  him  selfe  not  like  a  King,  but 
+like  a  cruell  tyrante  :  the  people  much  hated  and  detested 
+him,  by  reason  of  the  death  of  Lucretia  (which  killed  her 
+selfe  for  that  she  was  forcibly  ravished  by  him)  and  so  the 
+whole  cittie  rose  and  rebelled  against  him.  Lucius  Brutus 
+taking  upon  him  to  be  the  head  and  captaine  of  this  insur- 
+rection and  rebellion,  did  joyne  first  with  this  Valerius  :  who 
+dyd  greately  favour  and  assist  his  enterprise,  and  did  helpe 
+him  to  drive  out  king  Tarquine  with  all  his  house  and 
+familie.  Nowe  whilest  they  were  thincking  that  the  people 
+would  chuse  some  one  alone  to  be  chief  ruler  over  them, 
+m  stead  of  a  King  :  Valerius  kept  him  selfe  quiet,  as  yelding 
+2  1  249 
+
+
+The  house  of 
+P.  Valerius. 
+
+
+Tarquinius 
+Superbus. 
+
+
+Valerius, 
+Brutus  com- 
+panion, in 
+expulsingthe 
+Kings. 
+
+
+Lucius 
+
+Brutus. 
+
+Tarquinius 
+
+CoUatinus 
+
+Consuls. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+PUBLICOLA  willingly  unto  Brutus  the  first  place,  who  was  meetest  for  it, 
+having  bene  the  chief  authour  and  worcker  of  their  recovered 
+libertie.  But  when  they  sawe  the  name  of  Monarchie  (as 
+much  to  saye,  as  soveraintie  alone)  was  displeasaunt  to  the 
+people,  and  that  they  would  like  better  to  have  the  rule 
+devided  unto  two,  and  how  for  this  cause  they  would  rather 
+choose  two  Consuls :  Valerius  then  beganne  to  hope,  he 
+should  be  the  seconde  persone  with  Brutus.  Howbeit  this 
+hope  fayled  him.  For  against  Brutus  will,  Tarquinius 
+CoUatinus  (the  husband  of  Lucretia)  was  chosen  Consul  with 
+him :  not  bicause  he  was  a  man  of  greater  vertue,  or  of 
+better  estimation  than  Valerius.  But  the  noble  men  of  the 
+cittie  fearing  the  practises  of  the  Kings  abroade,  which 
+sought  by  all  the  fayer  and  flattering  meanes  they  could  to 
+returne  againe  into  the  cittie :  dyd  determine  to  make  such 
+an  one  Consul,  whom  occasion  forced  to  be  their  hard  and 
+heavy  enemie,  persuading  them  selves  that  Tarquinius 
+CoUatinus  would  for  no  respect  yeld  unto  them.  Valerius 
+tooke  this  matter  grevously,  but  they  had  a  mistrust  in  him, 
+as  if  he  would  not  doe  any  thing  he  could,  for  the  benefit  of 
+his  countrie :  notwithstanding  he  had  never  any  private 
+injurie  offered  him  by  the  tyrannes.  Wherfore,  he  repaired 
+no  more  unto  the  Senate  to  pleade  for  private  men,  and 
+wholy  gave  up  to  medle  in  matters  of  state :  insomuch  as  he 
+gave  many  occasion  to  thincke  of  his  absence,  and  it  troubled 
+some  men  much,  who  feared  least  upon  this  his  misliking 
+and  withdrawing,  he  would  fall  to  the  Kings  side,  and  so 
+bring  all  the  cittie  in  an  uprore,  considering  it  stoode  then 
+but  in  very  tickle  termes.  But  when  Brutus,  who  stoode  in 
+jealousie  of  some,  would  by  othe  be  assured  of  the  Senate, 
+and  had  appointed  them  a  daye  solemnely  to  take  their 
+othes  upon  the  sacrifices  :  Valerius  then  with  a  good  cheere- 
+full  countenaunce  came  into  the  market  place,  and  was  the 
+first  that  tooke  his  othe  he  would  leave  nothing  undone, 
+that  might  prejudice  the  Tarquines,  but  with  all  his  able 
+power  he  would  fight  against  them,  and  defend  the  libertie 
+of  the  cittie.  This  othe  of  his  marvelously  rejoyced  the 
+Senate,  and  gave  great  assurance  also  to  the  Consuls,  but 
+specially,  bicause  his  dedes  dyd  shortly  after  performe  his 
+250 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+wordes.      For   there   came   ambassadours   to    Rome    which  PUBLICOLA 
+brought   letters    from    king   Tarquine,  full  of  sweete   and  The  first 
+lowly  speaches  to  winne  the  favour  of  the  people,  with  com-  embassiate  of 
+mission  to  use  all  the  mildest  meanes  they  could,  to  dulce  kingTarquine 
+and   soften   the    hardened    harts   of    the   multitude :    who  ^^^  Realm"°^ 
+declared  how  the  King  had  left  all  pryde  and  crueltie,  and 
+ment  to  aske  nought  but  reasonable  things.     The  Consuls 
+thought  best  to  geve  them  open  audience,  and  to  suffer 
+them  to  speake  to  the  people.     But  Valerius  was  against  it, 
+declaring  it  might  perill  the  state  much,  and  deliver  occasion 
+of  new  sturre  unto  a  multitude  of  poore  people,  which  were 
+more  afFrayed  of  warres,  then  of  tyrannic.     After  that,  there 
+came  other  ambassadours  also,  which  sayed  that  Tarquine  Another  em- 
+would  from  thenceforth  for  ever  geve  over  and  renounce  his  bassiate  from 
+title  to  the  Kingdome,  and  to  make  any  more  warres,  but     ^^^^jP^   ®: 
+besought  them  only,  that  they  would  at  the  least  deliver  ^oodes. 
+him  and  his  friends  their  money  and  goods,  that  they  might 
+have   wherewithall   to    keepe    them   in    their   banishment. 
+Many  came  on  a  pace,  and  were  very  ready  to  yeld  to  this 
+request,  and   specially  Collatinus,  one  of  the  Consuls  who 
+dyd  favour  their  motion.     But  Brutus  that  was  a  fast  and 
+resolute  man,  and  very  fierce  in  his  harte,  ranne  immediately 
+into  the  market  place,  crying  out  that  his  fellowe  Consul 
+was  a  traytour,  and  contented  to  graunt  the  tyrannes  matter, 
+and  meanes  to  make  warre  upon  the  cittie,  where  in  deede 
+they  deserved  not  so  much,-  as  to  be  relieved  in  their  exile. 
+Hereupon  the  people  assembled  together,  and  the  first  that 
+spake  in  this   assembly,  was   a   private  man  called    Gaius 
+Minutius,  who    speaking   unto   Brutus,  and    to  the  whole 
+assembly,  sayed  unto  them  :    O  noble  Consul  and   Senate,  Good  counsel] 
+handle  so  the  matter,  that  the  tyrannes  goods  be  rather  in  o^  Minutius. 
+your  custodie  to  make  warre  with   them,   than   in  theirs, 
+to  bring  warre  upon   your  selves.      Notwithstanding,  the 
+Romaines  were  of  opinion,  that  having  gotten  the  liberty, 
+for  which  they  fought  with  the  tyrannes  :  they  should  not 
+disapoint  the  offered  peace,  with  keeping  backe  their  goodes, 
+but  rather  they  should  throwe  their  goods  out  after  them. 
+Howbeit  this  was  the  least  parte  of  Tarquines  intent,  to 
+seeke  his  goodes  againe :  but  under  pretence  of  that  demaund, 
+
+251 
+
+
+PUBLICOLA 
+
+Tarquines 
+ambassadours 
+practise 
+treason. 
+
+
+The  Aquilii 
+and  Vitellii 
+with  Brutus 
+sonnes,  tray- 
+tours  to  their 
+countrie. 
+
+
+The  confede- 
+racy con- 
+firmed with 
+drinking  of 
+mans  blond. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+he  secretly  corrupted  the  people,  and  practised  treason, 
+which  his  ambassadours  followed,  pretending  only  to  get 
+the  Kings  goodes  and  his  favourers  together,  saying,  that 
+they  had  already  solde  some  parte,  and  some  parte  they 
+kept,  and  sent  them  daylie.  So  as  by  delaying  the  time  in 
+this  sorte  with  such  pretences,  they  had  corrupted  two  of 
+the  best  and  auncientest  houses  of  the  cittie :  to  wit,  the 
+familie  of  the  Aquilians,  whereof  there  were  three  Senatours  : 
+and  the  familie  of  the  Vitellians,  whereof  there  were  two 
+Senatours  :  all  which  by  their  mothers,  were  Consul  Colla- 
+tinus  nephewes.  The  Vitellians  also  were  allied  unto  Brutus, 
+for  he  had  maried  their  o^vne  sister,  and  had  many  children 
+by  her.  Of  the  which  the  Vitellians  had  drawen  to  their 
+stringe,  two  of  the  eldest  of  them,  bicause  they  familiarly 
+frequented  together,  being  cosin  germaines  :  whom  they  had 
+intised  to  be  of  their  conspiracie,  allying  them  with  the  house 
+of  the  Tarquines,  which  was  of  great  power,  and  through 
+the  which  they  might  persuade  them  selves  to  rise  to  great 
+honour  and  preferment  by  meanes  of  the  Kings,  rather  than 
+to  trust  to  their  fathers  willfull  hardnes.  For  they  called 
+his  severitie  to  the  wicked,  hardnes  :  for  that  he  would  never 
+pardone  any.  Furthermore  Brutus  had  fayned  him  selfe 
+mad,  and  a  foole  of  long  time  for  safety  of  his  life,  bicause 
+the  tyrannes  should  not  put  him  to  death  :  so  that  the 
+name  of  Brutus  only  remained.  After  these  two  young  men 
+had  geven  their  consent  to  be  of  the  confederacie,  and  had 
+spoken  with  the  Aquilians :  they  all  thought  good  to  be 
+bounde  one  to  another,  with  a  great  and  horrible  othe, 
+drincking  the  bloude  of  a  man,  and  shaking  hands  in  his 
+bowells,  whom  they  would  sacrifice.  This  matter  agreed 
+upon  betweene  them,  they  met  together  to  put  their  sacri- 
+fice in  execution,  in  the  house  of  the  Aquilians.  They  had 
+fittely  pickt  out  a  darcke  place  in  the  house  to  doe  this 
+sacrifice  in,  and  where  almost  no  bodye  came :  yet  it  hap- 
+pened by  chaunce,  that  one  of  the  servants  of  the  house 
+called  Vindicius,  had  hidden  him  selfe  there,  unknowing  to 
+the  traytours,  and  of  no  set  purpose,  to  spye  and  see  what 
+they  dyd,  or  that  he  had  any  manner  of  inckling  thereof 
+before :  but  falling  by  chaunce  upon  the  matter,  even  as  the 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND   ROMANES 
+
+traytours  came  into  that  place  with  a  countenaunce  to  doe  PUBLICOL.-' 
+some  secret  thing  of  importaimce,  fearing  to  be  seene,  he  A'indicius 
+kept  him  selfe  close,  and  laye  behinde  a  coffer  that  was  heareth  all 
+there,  so  that  he  sawe  all  that  was  done,  and  what  they  their  treason, 
+sayed  and  determined.     The  conclusion  of  their  counsell  in 
+the  ende  was  this,  that  they  would  kill  both  the  Consuls  :  The  conclu- 
+and  they  wrote  letters  to  Tarquinius  advertising  the  same,  ^^^^  ^^  t^^i^ 
+which  tliey  gave  unto  his  ambassadours,  being  lodged  in  the  *^®^^'*"- 
+house  of  the  Aquilians,  and  were  present  at  this  conclusion. 
+With  this  determination  they  departed  from  thence,  and 
+Vindicius  came  out  also  as  secretly  as  he  could,  being  mar- 
+velously  troubled  in  minde,  and  at  a  maze  howe  to  deale  in 
+this  matter.     For  he  thought  it  daungerous  (as  it  was  in 
+deede)  to  goe  and    accuse  the  two  sonnes  unto  the  father 
+(which  was  Brutus)  of  so  wicked  and  detestable  a  treason, 
+and  the  nephewes  unto  their  uncle,  which  was  Collatinus. 
+On  the  other  side  also,  he  thought  this  was  a  secret,  not  to 
+be  imparted  to  any  private  persone,  and  not  possible  for 
+him  to  conceale  it,  that  was  bounde  in  duety  to  reveale  it. 
+So  he  resolved  at  the  last  to  goe  to  Valerius  to  bewraye  this 
+treason,  of  a  speciall  affection  to  this  man,  by  reason  of  his 
+gentle  and  curteous  using  of  men,  geving  easy  accesse  and 
+audience   unto  any  that   came   to    speake   with    him,  and 
+specially  for  that  he  disdained  not  to  heare  poore  mens 
+causes.    Vindicius  being  gone  to  speake  with  him,  and  having  Viudicius 
+tolde  him  the  whole  conspiracy  before  his  brother  Marcus  hewrayeth 
+Valerius,  and  his  wife,  he  was  abashed  and  fearefuU  withall :  *^^  treason  ^ 
+whereupon  he  stayed  him  least  he  should  slippe  awaye,  and 
+locked  him  in  a  chamber,  charging  his  wife  to  watche  the 
+doore,  that  no  bodie  went  in  nor  out  unto  him.     And  willed 
+his  brother  also,  that  he  should  goe  and  beset  the  Kings 
+palace  round  about,  to  intercept  these  letters  if  it  were  pos- 
+sible, and  to  see  that  none  of  their  servants  fled.     Valerivis 
+selfe  being  followed  (according  to  his  manner)  with  a  great 
+traine  of  his  friendes  and  people  that  wayted  on  him,  went 
+straight  unto  the  house  of  the  Aquilians,  who  by  chaunce 
+were  from  home  at  that  time :  and  entring  in  at  the  gate, 
+without  let  or  trouble  of  any  man,  he  founde  the  letters 
+in  the  chamber,  where  king  Tarquines  ambassadours  lave. 
+
+253 
+
+
+PUBLICOLA 
+
+
+Titus  and 
+Valerius, 
+Brutus 
+
+
+Brutus 
+seeth  his 
+owne  sonnes 
+punished  and 
+executed. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+Whilest  he  was  thus  occupied,  the  Aquilians  having  intelli- 
+gence thereof,  ranne  home  immediately,  and  founde  Valerius 
+comming  out  at  their  gate.  So  they  would  have  taken  those 
+letters  from  him  by  force,  and  strong  hande.  But  Valerius 
+and  his  company  dyd  resist  them,  and  moreover  hudded  them 
+with  their  gownes  over  their  heads,  and  by  force  brought 
+them  (doe  what  they  could)  into  the  market  place.  The 
+like  was  done  also  in  the  Kings  palace,  where  Marcus 
+Valerius  founde  other  letters  also  wrapt  up  in  certaine  far- 
+dells  for  their  more  safe  cariage,  and  brought  away  with  him 
+by  force  into  the  market  place,  all  the  Kings  servaunts  he 
+founde  there.  There  the  Consuls  having  caused  silence  to 
+be  made,  Valerius  sent  home  to  his  house  for  this  bondman 
+Vindicius,  to  be  brought  before  the  Consuls :  then  the  tray- 
+tours  were  openly  accused,  and  their  letters  redde,  and  they 
+had  not  the  face  to  aunswer  one  worde.  All  that  were 
+present,  being  amazed,  honge  downe  their  heades,  and  be- 
+helde  the  grounde,  and  not  a  man  durst  once  open  his 
+mouth  to  speake,  excepting  a  fewe,  who  to  gratifie  Brutus, 
+beganne  to  say  that  they  should  banishe  them :  and  Colla- 
+tinus  also  gave  them  some  hope,  bicause  he  fell  to  weeping, 
+and  Valerius  in  like  manner  for  that  he  held  his  peace.  But 
+Brutus  calling  his  sonnes  by  their  names :  Come  on  (sayed 
+he)  Titus,  and  thou  Valerius,  why  doe  you  not  aunswer  to 
+that  you  are  accused  of?  and  having  spoken  thryse  unto 
+them  to  aunswer,  when  he  sawe  they  stoode  mute,  and  sayed 
+nothing :  he  turned  him  to  the  sergeants,  and  sayed  unto 
+them  :  They  are  nowe  in  your  handes,  doe  justice.  So  soone 
+as  he  had  spoken  these  wordes,  the  sergeants  layed  holde 
+immediately  upon  the  two  young  men,  and  tearing  their 
+clothes  of  their  backs,  bounde  their  hands  behinde  them, 
+and  then  whipped  them  with  roddes :  which  was  such  a 
+pittiefull  sight  to  all  the  people,  that  they  could  not  finde 
+in  their  hartes  to  behold  it,  but  turned  them  selves  another 
+waye,  bicause  they  would  not  see  it.  But  contrariwise,  they 
+saye  that  their  owne  father  had  never  his  eye  of  them, 
+neither  dyd  chaunge  his  austere  and  fierce  countenaunce, 
+with  any  pittie  or  naturall  affection  towards  them,  but  sted- 
+fastly  dyd  beholde  the  punishement  of  his  owne  children, 
+254 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+untill  they  were  layed  flat  on  the  grouiide,  and  both  their  PUBLICOLA 
+heads  striken  of  with  an  axe  before  him.     When  they  were 
+executed,  Brutus  rose  from  the  benche,  and  left  the  execu- 
+tion of  the  rest  unto  his  fellowe  Consul.    This  was  such  an  Brutus, 
+acte,  as  men  cannot  sufficiently  prayse,  nor  reprove  enough,  praised  and 
+For  either  it  was  his  excellent  vertue,  that  made  his  minde  rfP^?^^A^*^J 
+so  quiet,  or  els  the  greatnes  of  his  miserie  that  tooke  awaye  ^^^  sonnes 
+the  feeling  of  his  sorowe  :  whereof  neither  the  one  nor  the 
+other  was  any  small  matter,  but  passing  the  common  nature 
+of  man,  that  hath  in  it  both  divinenes,  and  somtime  beastly 
+brutishnes.     But  it  is  better  the  judgement  of  men  should 
+commend    his   fame,   then    that   the  affection    of   men  by 
+their  judgements   should    diminishe   his    vertue.     For   the 
+Romaines  holde  opinion,  it  was  not  so  great  an  acte  done  of 
+Romulus  first  to  build  Rome :    as  it  was   for    Brutus   to 
+recover  Rome,  and  the  best  libertie  thereof,  and  to  renewe 
+the  auncient  government  of  the  same.     When  Brutus  was 
+gone,  all  the  people  in  the  market  place  remained  as  they 
+had  bene  in  a  maze,  full  of  feare  and  wounder,  and  a  great 
+while  without  speaking  to  see  what  was  done.   The  Aquilians 
+straight  grew  bold,  for  that  they  sawe  the  other  Consull 
+Collatinus  proceede  gently,  and  mildly  against  them  :  and  Collatinus 
+so  made  petition  they   might  have  time   geuen   them   to  softnes 
+aunswer  to  the  articles  they  were  accused  of,  and  that  they  P6"^ous. 
+might  have  their  slave  and  bondman  Vindicius   delivered 
+into  their  handes,  bicause  there  was  no  reason  he  should 
+remaine  with  their  accusers.     The  Consul  seemed  willing 
+to  yeld  thereto,  and  was  ready  to  breake  up  the  assembly 
+thereupon.     But  Valerius  sayed,  he  would  not  deliver  Vin- 
+dicius (who  was  among  the  assembly  that  attended  upon  his 
+persone)  and  stayed  the  people  besides  for  departing  awaye, 
+least  they  should  negligently  let  those  escape  that  had  so 
+wickedly  sought  to  betraye  their  countrie.     Untill  he  him 
+selfe  had  layed  handes  upon  them,  calling  upon  Brutus  to 
+assist  him,  with  open  exclamation  against  Collatinus,  that  Valerius 
+he  dyd  not  behave  him  selfe  like  a  just  and  true  man,  seeing  boldly  ap- 
+his fellowe  Brutus  was  forced  for  justice  sake  to  see  his  owne  peacheth 
+sonnes  put  to  death  :  and  he  in  contrary  manner,  to  please  a  of  jn^ust^ce 
+fewe  women,  sought  to  let  goe  manifest  traitours,  and  open 
+
+255 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+PUBLICOLA  enemies  to  their  countrie.  The  Consul  being  offended  here- 
+>vith,  commaunded  they  should  bring  awaye  the  bondman 
+Vindicius.  So  the  sergeants  making  waye  through  the 
+prease,  layed  handes  upon  him  to  bring  him  awaye  with 
+them,  and  beganne  to  strike  at  them  which  offered  to  resist 
+them.  But  Valerius  friends  stept  out  before  them,  and  put 
+them  by.  The  people  showted  straight,  and  cried  out  for 
+Brutus  :  who  with  this  noyse  returned  againe  into  the  market 
+place,  and  after  silence  made  him,  he  spake  in  this  wise.  For 
+mine  own  children,  I  alone  have  bene  their  sufficient  judg, 
+to  see  them  have  the  law  according  to  their  deservings  :  the 
+rest  I  have  left  freely  to  the  judgment  of  the  people. 
+Wherefore  (sayed  he)  if  any  man  be  disposed  to  speake,  let 
+him  stand  up,  and  persuade  the  people  as  he  thinketh  best. 
+Then  there  needed  no  more  wordes,  but  only  to  hearken 
+what  the  people  cried  :  who  with  one  voyce  and  consent 
+condemned  them,  and  cried  execution,  and  accordingly  they 
+had  their  heades  striken  of.  Now  was  Consull  Collatinus 
+long  before  had  in  some  suspition,  as  allied  to  the  Kings, 
+and  disliked  for  his  surname,  bicause  he  was  called  Tar- 
+quinius :  who  perceyving  him  selfe  in  this  case  much  hated 
+Collatinus  and  mistrusted  of  the  people,  voluntarely  y elded  up  his 
+resigneth  his  Consulshippe,  and  departed  the  cittie.  The  people  as- 
+**dT  rt^th  s^'^^li"g  then  them  selves,  to  place  a  successour  in  his 
+Rome.  roome :    they   chose   Valerius    in    his    roome,    without   the 
+
+,j  ,    .  contradiction    of  any,    for  his   faithfull  travaill   and   dili- 
+
+chosen  Consul  g^nce  bestowed  in  this  great  matter.     Then  Valerius  judg- 
+in  his  place,     ing  that  Vindicius   the   bondman   had  well  deserved  also 
+some    recompence,  caused  him   not  only  to  be  manumised 
+by   the   whole   graunte   of  the  people,   but   made   him   a 
+Vindicius  the  free  man  of  the  cittie  besides :  and  he  was  the  first  bond- 
+first  bondman  j^^n  manumised,  that  was  made  cittizen  of  Rome,  with  per- 
+manumise  .      mission  also  to  geve  his  voyce  in  all  elections  of  officers, 
+in  any  company  or  tribe  he  would  be  enrolled  in.     Long 
+time  after  that,  and  very  lately,  Appius  to  currie  favour 
+with   the   common   people,   made   it   lawfull   for   bondmen 
+manumised,  to  geve  their  voyces  also  in  elections,  as  other 
+cittizens  dyd :  and  unto  this  daye  the  perfect  manumising 
+and  freeing  of  bondmen,  is  called  Vindicta,  after  the  name 
+256 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+of  this  Vindicius,  that  was  then  made  a  free  man.     These  PUBLICOLA 
+things  thus  passed  over,  the  goodes  of  the  Kings  were  geven  Vindicta  so 
+to  the  spoyle  of  the  people,  and  their  palaces  were  rased  called,  by 
+and  overthrowen.    Nowe  amongest  other  lands,  the  goodliest  '"^ason  of 
+parte  of  the  field  of  Mars  was  belonging  unto  king  Tarquine  :     I'^Qicius. 
+the  same  they  consecrated  forthwith  unto  the  god  Mars,  and  Tarquines 
+not  long  before  they  had  cut  downe  the  wheat  thereof.    The  field  conse- 
+sheaves  being  yet  in  shocks  in  the  field,  they  thought  they  ^^*^^  *^ 
+might  not  grinde  the  wheate,  nor  make  any  commoditie  of  the      ^^^' 
+profit  thereof :  wherefore  they  threwe  both  corne  and  sheaves 
+mto  the  river,  and  trees  also  which  they  had  hewen  downe 
+and  rooted  up,  to  the  end  that  the  field  being  dedicated  to 
+the  god  Mars,  should  be  left  bare,  without  bearing  any 
+fruite  at  all.     These  sheaves  thus  throw  en  into  the  river, 
+were  caried  down  by  the  streame  not  farre  from  thence,  unto 
+a  forde  and  shallowe  place  of  the  water,  where  they  first  dyd 
+staye,  and  dyd  let  the  other  which  came  after,  that  it  could 
+goe  no  further :  there  these  heapes  gathered  together,  and 
+laye  so  close  one  to  another,  that  they  beganne  to  sincke 
+and  settle  fast  in  the  water.     Afterwards  the  streame  of  the 
+river  brought  downe  continually  such  mudde  and  gravell, 
+that  it  ever  increased  the  heape  of  corne  more  and  more  in 
+suche  sorte,  that  the  force  of  the  water  could  no  more  remove 
+it  from  thence,  but  rather  softly  pressing  and  driving  it 
+together,  dyd  firme  and  harden  it,  and  made  it  growe  so  to 
+lande.     Thus  this  heape  rising  still  in  greatnes  and  firmenes, 
+by  reason  that  all  that  came  downe  the  river  stayed  there,  it 
+grewe  in  the  ende,  and  by  time  to  spread  so  farre,  that  at 
+this  daye  it  is  called  the  holy  Ilande  in  Rome :  in  which  are  ^Fhereof  the 
+many  goodly  temples  of  divers  goddes,  and  sundry  walkes  holy  Ilaud 
+about  it,  and  they  call  it  in  Latine,  Inter  duos  pontes :  in  Vf '"®  "\^, 
+our  tongue,  '  betweene  the  two  bridges.'     Yet  some  Avrite,  lieth  betwene 
+that  this  thing  fell  not  out  at  that  time  when  the  field  of  the  both  bridges. 
+Tarquines  was  consecrated  unto  Mars  :  but  that  it  happened 
+afterwardes,  when  one  of  the  Vestall  Nunnes,  called  Tar- 
+quinia,  gave  a  field  of  hers  unto  the  people,  which  was  hard 
+adjoyning  unto  Tarquines  field.     For  which  liberalitie  and 
+bowntie  of  hers,  they  dyd  graunte  her  in  recompense  many 
+priviledges,  and  dyd  her  great  honour  besides.    As  amongest 
+2K  257 
+
+
+PUBLICOLA 
+
+
+Tarquine 
+commeth  with 
+a  great  power 
+of  the  Thus- 
+cans  to  wage 
+battel  1  with 
+theRomaines. 
+Arsia  silva. 
+
+Aruns  and 
+Brutus  en- 
+countered, 
+and  slue  eche 
+other. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+others,  it  was  ordeined,  that  her  word  and  witnes  should 
+stand  good,  and  be  allowed,  in  matters  judiciall :  which 
+priviledge,  never  woman  besides  her  self  dyd  enjoy e.  By 
+speciall  grace  of  the  people  also,  it  was  graunted  her,  that 
+she  might  marie  if  she  thought  it  good :  but  yet  she  would 
+not  accept  the  benefit  of  that  offer.  Thus  you  heare  the 
+reporte  how  this  thing  happened.  Tarquinius  then  being 
+past  hope  of  ever  entring  into  his  Kingdome  againe,  went 
+yet  unto  the  Thuscans  for  succour,  which  were  very  glad  of 
+him :  and  so  they  leavied  a  great  armie  together,  hoping  to 
+have  put  him  in  his  Kingdome  againe.  The  Consuls  also 
+hearing  thereof,  went  out  with  their  armie  against  him. 
+Both  the  armies  presented  them  selves  in  battell  raye,  one 
+against  another,  in  the  holy  places  consecrated  to  the  goddes: 
+wherof  the  one  was  called  the  wodde  Arsia,  and  the  other 
+the  meadowe  ^Esuvia.  And  as  both  armies  beganne  to  geve 
+charge  upon  eche  other,  Aruns  the  eldest  sonne  of  king 
+Tarquine,  and  the  Consul  Brutus  encountered  together,  not 
+by  chaunce,  but  sought  for  of  set  purpose  to  execute  the 
+deadly  fode  and  malice  they  dyd  beare  cache  other.  The 
+one,  as  against  a  tyrante  and  enemie  of  the  libertie  of  his 
+countrie :  the  other,  as  against  him  that  had  bene  chief 
+authour  and  worker  of  their  exile  and  expulsion.  So  they 
+set  spurres  to  their  horses,  so  soone  as  they  had  spyed  eche 
+other,  with  more  fury  then  reason,  and  fought  so  desperately 
+together,  that  they  both  fell  starke  dead  to  the  ground. 
+The  first  onset  of  the  battell  being  so  cruell,  the  end  thereof 
+was  no  lesse  bloudy  :  untill  both  the  armies  having  receyved 
+and  done  like  damage  to  eche  other,  were  parted  by  a 
+marvelous  great  tempest  that  fell  upon  them.  Nowe  was 
+Valerius  marvelously  perplexed,  for  that  he  knewe  not  which 
+of  them  wanne  the  field  that  daye :  seeing  his  souldiers  as 
+sorowfull  for  the  great  losse  of  their  men  lying  dead  before 
+them,  as  they  were  glad  of  the  slaughter  and  victorie  of  their 
+enemies.  For,  to  viewe  the  multitude  of  the  slaine  bodies  of 
+either  side,  the  number  was  so  equall  in  sight,  that  it  was 
+very  hard  to  judge,  of  which  side  fell  out  the  greatest 
+slaughter :  so  that  both  the  one  and  the  other  viewing  by 
+the  eye  the  remaine  of  their  campe,  were  persuaded  in  their 
+258 
+
+
+■ 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+opinion,  that  they  had  rather  lost  then  wonne,  conjecturing  PUBLICOLA 
+a  farre  of  the  fall  of  their  enemies.     The  night  being  come, 
+such  things  fell  out,  as  maye  be  looked  for  after  so  terrible  a 
+battell.     For  when  both  campes  were  all  layed  to  rest,  they 
+saye  the  wodde  wherein  they  laye  incamped,  quaked  and 
+trembled  :  and  they  heard  a  voyce  saye,  that  onely  one  man 
+more  was  slaine  on  the  Thuscans  side,  than  on  the  Romaines  The  victory  ol 
+parte.     Out  of  doubt  this  was  some  voyce  from  heaven  :  for  the  Romaines 
+the  Romaines  thereupon  gave  a  shrill  showte,  as  those  whose  xhuscans 
+hartes  receyved  a  newe  quickening  spirite  or  corage.     The 
+Thuscans  on  the  contrarie  parte  were  so  afFrayed,  that  the 
+most  parte  of  them  stole  out  of  the  campe,  and  scattered  here 
+and  there :  and  there  remained  behind  about  the  number  of 
+five  thousand  men,  whom  the  Romaines  tooke  prisoners  every 
+one,  and  had  the  spoile  of  their  campe.     The  carkasses  were 
+viewed  afterwards,  and  they  found  that  there  were  slaine  in 
+that   battell,  eleven   thousand   and   three   hundred  of  the 
+Thuscans  :  and  of  the  Romaines,  so  many  saving  one.     This 
+battell  was  fought  (as  they  saye)  the  last  daye  of  Februarie, 
+and  the  Consul  Valerius  triumphed,  being  the  first  of  the  Valerius  the 
+Consuls  that  ever  entered  into  Rome  triumphing:  upon  a  ",*'^*  Consul 
+charet  drawen  with  foure  horses,  which  sight  the  people  +riumDhed 
+found    honorable    and    goodly   to    beholde,   and   were   not  upon  a 
+offended  withall  (as  some  seeme  to  reporte)  nor  yet  dyd  envy  charret. 
+him  for  that  he  beganne  it.      For  if  it  had  bene  so,  that 
+custome  had  not  bene  followed  with  so  good  acceptation, 
+nor  had  continued  so  many  yeres  as  it  dyd  afterwards.    They 
+much  commended  also  the  honour  he  dyd  to  his  fellowe 
+Consul  Brutus,  in  setting  out  his  funeralles  and  obsequies, 
+at  the  which  he  made  a  funerall  oration  in  his  praise.     They  The  first  be- 
+did  so  like  and  please  the  Romaines,  that  they  have  ever  ginning  of 
+since  continued  that  custome  at  the  buriall  of  any  noble  f^^'i^'"^^!  o'"^- 
+man,  or  great  personage,  that  he  is  openly  praised  at  his  the  Romaines. 
+buriall,  by  the   worthiest   man   that   liveth   among   them. 
+They  reporte  this  funerall  oration  is  farre  more  auncient 
+then  the  first,  that  was  made  in  Grece  in  the  like  case :  onles 
+they  will  confirme  that  which  the  orator  Anaximenes  hath 
+written,  that  the   manner   of  praising   the    dead   at   their 
+funeralls,  was  first  of  all  instituted  by  Solon.     But  they  dyd 
+
+^59 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+PUBLICOLA  most  envye  Valerius,  and  beare  him  grudge,  bicause  Brutus 
+
+Anaximenes     (whom    the   people    did   acknowledge   for    father    of    their 
+
+sayeth,  Solon  libertie)  would  never  be  alone  in  office,  but  had  procured 
+
+was  the  first     twise,  that  they  should  appoint  Valerius  fellowe  Consul  with 
+
+^ra^sef for*^*^  him.     This  man  in  contrariwise  (sayed  the  people)  taking 
+
+the  dead.  upon  him  alone  the  rule  and  soveraintie,  sheweth  plainely  he 
+
+will  not  be  Brutus  successour  in  his  Consulshippe,  but  Tar- 
+
+quinius  self  in  the  Kingdome.     For  to  great  purpose  was  it 
+
+to  praise  Brutus  in  wordes,  and  to  followe  Tarquinius  in 
+
+deedes :  having  borne  before  him  selfe  only  all  the  mases, 
+
+the  axes  and  the  roddes,  when  he  cometh  abroade  out  of  his 
+
+owne  house,  which  is  farre  greater,  and  more  stately,  then 
+
+the  Kings  palace  which  he  him  self  overthrewe.     And  to 
+
+Valerius  saye  truely,  Valerius  dwelt  in  a  house  a  litle  to  sumptuously 
+
+stately  house    built  and  seated,  upon  the  hanging  of  the  hill  called  mount 
+
+^uut°Velia     Velia:   and  bicause  it  stoode  highe,  it  overlooked  all  the 
+
+market  place,  so  that  any  man  might  easely  see  from  thence 
+
+what  was  done  there.     Furthermore,  it  was  very  ill  to  come 
+
+to  it :  but  when  he  came  out  of  his  house,  it  was  a  marvelous 
+
+pompe  and  state  to  see  him  come  downe  from  so  highe  a 
+
+place,  and  with  a  traine  after  him,  that  caried  the  majestic 
+
+Valerius  a        of  a  Kings  courte.     But  herein  Valerius  left  a  noble  example, 
+
+good  example  shewing  howe  much  it  importeth  a  noble  man  and  magistrate, 
+
+trates^'''        I'uling  weighty  causes,  to  have  his  eares  open  to  heare,  and 
+
+willingly  to  receyve  free  speache  in  steade  of  flatteries,  and 
+
+playne  trothe  in  place  of  lyes.     For,  being   enformed  by 
+
+some  of  his  friends  how  the  people  misliked  and  complained 
+
+of  it,  he  stoode  not  in  his  owne  conceit,  neither  was  angrie 
+
+with  them  :  but  forthwith  set  a  worlde  of  workmen  upon  it, 
+
+earely  in   the  morning  before   breake  of  daye,  and   com- 
+
+Valerius  maunded  them  to  plucke  down  his  house,  and  to  rase  it  to 
+
+overthrew  his  the  ground.     Insomuch  as  the  next  day  following,  when  the 
+
+s   te  y    ouse.  j^omaines  were  gathered  together  in  the  market  place,  and 
+
+sawe  this  great  sodaine  mine,  they  much  commended  the 
+
+noble  acte  and  minde  of  Valerius,  in  doing  that  he  dyd :  but 
+
+so  were  they  angrie,  and  sorie  both,  to  see  so  fayer  and 
+
+stately  a  buylt  house  (which  was  an  ornament  to  the  cittie) 
+
+overthrowen  upon  a  sodaine.     Much  like  in  comparison  to  a 
+
+man,  whom  through  spite  and  en  vie  they  had  unjustly  put 
+
+260 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+to   death :   and  to  see  their   chief  magistrate   also   Hke  a  PUBLICOLA 
+straunger  and  a  vacabonde,  compelled  to  seeke  his  lodging 
+in  another  mans  house.     For  his  friends  receyved  him  into 
+their  houses,  untill  such  time  as  the  people  had  geven  him  a 
+place,  where  they  dyd  build  him  a  newe  house,  farre  more 
+orderly,  and  nothing  so  stately  and  curious  as  the  first  was, 
+and  it  was  in  the  same  place,  where  the  temple  called  Vicus  The  temple 
+Publicus  standeth  at  this  daye.     Now  bi cause  he  would  not  called  Vicus 
+only  reforme  his  pei-sone,  but  the  office  of  his  Consulshippe,  Publicus. 
+and  also  would  frame  him  selfe  to  the  good  acceptation  and 
+liking  of  the  people :  where  before  he  seemed  unto  them  to 
+be  fearefull,  he  put  awaye  the  carying  of  the  axes  from  the 
+roddes,  which  the  sergeants  used  to  beare  before  the  Consul. 
+Moreover  when  he  came  into  the  market  place,  where  the 
+people  were  assembled,  he  caused  the  roddes  to  be  borne 
+downewardes,  as   in    token   of  reverence    of  the    soveraine 
+majestie  of  the  people :    which  all  the  magistrates  observe 
+yet  at  this  daye.     Nowe  in  all  this  humble  showe  and  lowli- 
+nes  of  his,  he  dyd  not   so  much  imbase  his  dignitie  and 
+greatnes,  which  the  common  people  thought  him  to  have  at 
+the  first :  as  he  dyd  thereby  cut  of  envie  from  him,  winning 
+againe  as  much  true  authoritie,  as  in  semblaunce  he  would 
+seeme  to  have  lost.     For  this  made  the  people  willinger  to 
+obey,  and  readier  to  submit  them  selves  unto  him :  insomuch 
+as  upon  this  occasion  he  was  surnamed  Publicola,  as  much  to  Why  Valerius 
+saye,  as  the  people  pleaser.     Which  surname  he  kept  ever  was  surnamed 
+after,  and  we  from  henceforth  also  writing  the  rest  of  his  Publicola. 
+life,  will  use  no  other  name :  for  he  was  contented  to  suffer 
+any  man  that  would,  to  offer  him  selfe  to  aske  the  Consul- 
+shippe in  Brutus  place.     But   he   yet   not    knowing   what 
+kynde  of  man  they  would  joyne  fellowe  Consul  with  him,  and 
+fearing  least  through  envie  or  ignoraunce,  the  party  might 
+thwart  his  purpose  and  meaning :  employed  his  sole  power 
+and  authoritie  whilest  he  ruled  alone,  upon  highe  and  noble 
+attempts.     For  first  of  all  he  supplied  up  the  number  of  Publicolaes 
+Senatours  that  were  greatly  decayed,  bicause  king  Tarquine  actes  and 
+had  put  some  of  them  to  death  not  long  before,  and  other  ^^^''^^• 
+also  had  bene  lately  slaine  in  the  warres :  in  whose  places  he 
+had  chosen  newe  Senatours,  to  the  number  of  a  hundred 
+
+'261 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+PUBLICOLA  three  score  and  foure.  After  that,  he  made  newe  decrees 
+and  lawes,  which  greatly  dyd  advaunce  the  authoritie  of  the 
+people.  The  first  lawe  gave  libertie  to  all  ofFendours,  con- 
+demned by  judgement  of  the  Consuls,  to  appeale  unto  the 
+people.  The  second,  that  no  man  upon  payne  of  death 
+should  take  upon  him  the  exercise  of  any  office,  unles  he  had 
+come  unto  it  by  the  gifte  of  the  people.  The  third  was, 
+and  all  in  favour  of  the  poore,  that  the  poore  cittizens  of 
+Rome  should  paye  no  more  custome,  nor  any  impost  whatso- 
+ever. This  made  every  man  the  more  willing  to  geve  him 
+selfe  to  some  crafte  or  occupation,  when  he  sawe  his  travaill 
+should  not  be  taxed,  nor  taken  from  him.  As  for  the  law 
+that  he  made  against  those  that  disobeyed  the  Consuls,  it 
+was  founde  to  be  so  favorable  to  the  communaltie,  as  they 
+thought  it  was  rather  made  for  the  poore,  than  for  the  riche 
+and  great  men.  For  the  ofFendours  and  breakers  of  that 
+lawe,  were  condemned  to  paye  for  a  penaltie,  the  value  of 
+five  oxen,  and  two  muttons.  The  price  of  a  mutton  was 
+then,  tenne  oboles,  and  of  an  oxe,  a  hundred  oboles.  For 
+in  those  dayes,  the  Romaines  had  no  store  of  coined  mony, 
+otherwise,  they  lacked  no  sheepe,  nor  other  rother  beasts. 
+Hereof  it  came,  that  to  this  daye  they  call  their  riches  or 
+substaunce,  Peculium,  bicause  Pecus  signifieth  sheepe  and 
+muttons.  And  in  the  olde  time  the  stampe  upon  their 
+money  was  an  oxe,  a  mutton,  or  a  hogge :  and  some  of  them 
+called  their  children  Biibulci,  which  signifieth  cowheards : 
+others  Caprarii^  to  saye  goateheards :  and  others  Porcii, 
+as  you  would  saye,  swineheardes.  Nowe  though  in  all  his 
+other  lawes,  he  was  very  favorable  and  temperate  toward  the 
+people:  yet  in  that  moderation,  somtimes  he  dyd  set  gi-ievous 
+paynes  and  punishements.  For  he  made  it  lawfull  to  kill 
+any  man  without  any  accusation,  that  dyd  aspire  to  the 
+Kingdome,  and  he  dyd  set  the  murderer  free  of  all  punishe- 
+ment :  so  he  brought  forth  manifest  proofe,  that  the  party 
+slaine,  had  practised  to  make  him  selfe  King.  As  being- 
+impossible  a  man  should  pretend  so  great  a  matter,  and  no 
+man  should  finde  it :  and  contrariwise  being  possible,  albeit 
+he  were  spyed,  that  otherwise  he  might  attempt  it,  by 
+making  him  selfe  so  strong,  that  he  needed  not  passe  for  the 
+262 
+
+
+Whereof 
+Peculium 
+was  called. 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+law.     In  this  case  he  gave  every  man  libcrtic  by  such  actc  PUBLICOLA 
+or  raeanc,  to  prevent  him  if  he  could  of  discretion :  who  by 
+strength  otherwise  sought  to  aspire  to  reigne.     They  greatly 
+commended  him  also  for  the  lawe  that  he  made  touching  the 
+treasure.      For   being   very   necessarie   that   everie   private 
+cittizen  should  according  to  his  abilitie,  be  contributer  to 
+the  charges  and  maintenaunce  of  the  warres :    he  him  self 
+would  neither  take  such  collection  into  his  charge,  nor  suffer 
+any  man  of  his  to  medle  with  the  same,  nor  yet  that  it 
+should  be  layed  in  any  private  mans  house,  but  he  dyd 
+ordeine  that  Saturnes  temple  should  be  the  treasurie  thereof. 
+This  order  they  keepe  to  this  present  daye.     Furthermore, 
+he  graunted  the  people  to  chuse  two  young  men  Qucestores  The  first 
+of  the  same,  as  you  would  saye  the  treasurers,  to  take  the  Qutestores. 
+charge  of  this  money  :  and  the  two  first  which  were  chosen, 
+were  Publius  Veturius,  and  Marcus  Minutius,  who  gathered  Publius 
+great  summes  of  money  together.     For  numbnng  the  people  Veturius, 
+by   the    polle,   there    were   found   a    hundred    and    thirtie  ?^t^'^*'".- 
+thousand  persones  which  had  payed  subsidie,  not  reckoning 
+in  this  accompt,  orphanes,  nor  widowes,  which  were  excepted 
+from  all  payments.    After  he  had  established  all  these  things, 
+he  caused  Lucretius  (the  father  of  Lucretia)  to  be  chosen  Lucretius 
+fellowe  Consul  with  him,  unto  whom,  for  that  he  was  his  and  Publicola 
+auncient,  he  gave  the  upper  hande,  and  commaunded  they  Consuls, 
+should  carie  before  him  the  roddes,  which  were  the  signes  of 
+the  chief  magistrate :  and  ever  since  they  have  geven  this 
+honour  unto  age.     But  Lucretius  dying  not  long  after  his 
+election,  they  chose  againe  in  his  place  Marcus  Horatius,  Publicola  and 
+who  held  out  the  Consulshippe  with  Publicola  the  rest  of  Marcus  Hora- 
+the  yere.    Nowe  about  that  time  king  Tarquine  remained  in  *^"^  Consuls, 
+the  countrie  of  Thuscane,  where  he  prepared  a  seconde  armie 
+against  the  Romaines,  and  there  fell  out  a  marvelous  straunge 
+thing  thereupon.     For  when  he  raigned  king  of  Rome,  he 
+had  almost  made  an  ende  of  the  building  of  the  temple  of 
+lupiter  Capitolin,  and  was  determined  (whether  by  any  oracle 
+receyved,  or  upon  any  fantasy  it  is  not  knowen)  to  set  up  a 
+coche  of  earth  baked  by  a  potter,  in  the  highest  place  of  the 
+temple,  and  he  put  it  out  to  be  done  by  certaine  Thuscan 
+workemen  of  the  cittie  of  Veies :  but  whilest  they  were  in 
+
+263 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+PUBLICOLA  hand  with  the  worcke,  he  was  driven  out  of  his  Realme. 
+When  the  worckemen  had  formed  this  coche,  and  that  they 
+had  put  it  into  the  foumes  to  bake  it,  it  fell  out  contrarie 
+to  the  nature  of  the  earth,  and  the  common  order  of  their 
+worcke  put  into  the  foumes.  For  the  earth  dyd  not  shut 
+and  close  together  in  the  fire,  nor  dryed  up  all  the  moisture 
+thereof:  but  rather  to  the  contrarie  it  dyd  swell  to  such  a 
+bignes,  and  grewe  so  harde  and  strong  withall,  that  they 
+were  driven  to  breake  up  the  head  and  walles  of  the  foumes 
+to  get  it  out.  The  soothesayers  dyd  expounde  this,  that  it 
+was  a  celestiall  token  from  above,  and  promised  great  pro- 
+speritie  and  increase  of  power  unto  those,  that  should  enjoye 
+this  coche.  Whereupon  the  Veians  resolved  not  to  deliver  it 
+unto  the  Romaines  that  demaunded  it,  but  aunswered  that 
+it  dyd  belong  unto  king  Tarquine,  and  not  unto  those  that 
+had  banished  him.  Not  many  dayes  after,  there  was  a 
+solemne  feast  of  games  for  running  of  horses  in  the  cittie  of 
+Veies,  where  they  dyd  also  many  other  notable  actes,  worthy 
+sight  according  to  their  custome.  But  after  the  game  was 
+played,  he  that  had  wonne  the  bell,  being  cro%\-ned  in  token 
+of  victorie  as  they  dyd  use  at  that  time,  brought  his  coche 
+and  horses  fayer  and  softely  out  of  the  showe  place :  and 
+sodainely  the  horse  being  aft'rayed  upon  no  present  cause  or 
+occasion  seene,  whether  it  was  by  chaunce,  or  by  some  secret 
+working  from  above,  ranne  as  they  had  bene  mad  with  their 
+coche  to  the  cittie  of  Rome.  The  coche  driver  dyd  what  he 
+could  possible  at  the  first  to  staye  them,  by  holding  in  the 
+raynes,  by  clapping  them  on  the  backs,  and  speaking  gently 
+to  them :  but  in  the  ende,  perceyving  he  could  doe  no  good, 
+and  that  they  would  have  their  swynge,  he  gave  place  to 
+their  furie,  and  they  never  linne  ronning,  till  they  brought 
+him  neere  to  the  Capitoll,  where  they  overthrewe  him  and 
+his  coche,  not  farre  from  the  gate  called  at  this  present, 
+Ratumena.  The  Veians  woundering  much  at  this  matter, 
+and  being  affrayed  withall :  were  contented  the  workmen 
+should  deliver  their  coche  made  of  earth  unto  the  Romaines. 
+Now  concerning  lupiter  Capitolins  temple,  king  Tarquine 
+the  first  (which  was  the  sonne  of  Demaratus)  vowed  in  the 
+waiTes  that  he  made  against  the  Sabynes,  that  he  would 
+264 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+buyld  it.  And  Tcarquine  the  prowde,  being  the  sonne  of  PUBLICOLA 
+him  that  made  this  vowe  dyd  buyld  it :  howbeit  he  dyd  not 
+consecrate  it,  bicause  he  was  driven  out  of  his  Kingdome 
+before  he  had  finished  it.  When  this  temple  was  built  and 
+throughly  finished,  and  set  forth  with  all  his  ornaments : 
+Publicola  was  marvelously  desirous  to  have  the  honour  of  the 
+dedication  thereof.  But  the  noble  men  and  Senatours  envy- 
+ing his  glorie,  being  very  angrie  that  he  could  not  content 
+him  selfe  with  all  those  honours  that  he  had  receyved  in 
+peace,  for  the  good  lawes  he  had  made,  and  in  warres  for 
+the  victories  he  had  obteined  and  well  deserved,  but  further 
+that  he  would  seeke  the  honour  of  this  dedication,  which 
+nothing  dyd  pertaine  unto  him :  they  then  dyd  egge  Hora- 
+tius,  and  persuaded  him  to  make  sute  for  the  same.  Occasion 
+fell  out  at  that  time,  that  Publicola  must  have  the  leading 
+of  the  Romaines  armie  into  the  field :  in  the  meane  time, 
+while  Publicola  was  absent,  it  was  procured  that  the  people 
+gave  their  voyces  to  Horatius,  to  consecrate  the  temple, 
+knowing  they  could  not  so  well  have  brought  it  to  passe  he 
+being  present.  Other  saye,  the  Consuls  drewe  lotts  betweene 
+them,  and  that  it  lighted  upon  Publicola  to  leade  the  armie 
+against  his  will,  and  upon  Horatius  to  consecrate  this  temple, 
+which  maye  be  conjectured  by  the  thing  that  fortuned  in  the 
+dedication  thereof.  For  all  the  people  being  assembled 
+together  in  the  Capitoll  with  great  silence,  on  the  fiftenth 
+daye  of  the  moneth  of  September,  which  is  about  the  newe 
+moone  of  the  moneth  which  the  Grecians  call  Metagitnion : 
+Horatius  having  done  all  the  ceremonies  needefull  in  suche  a 
+case,  and  holding  then  the  doores  of  the  temple,  as  the  use 
+was  even  to  utter  the  solemne  wordes  of  dedication  :  Marcus 
+V'alerius,  the  brother  of  Publicola,  having  stoode  a  long  time 
+there  at  the  temple  doore,  to  take  an  oportunitie  to  speake, 
+beganne  to  say  alowde  in  this  wise  :  My  lorde  Consul,  your 
+sonne  is  dead  of  a  sicknes  in  the  campe.  This  made  all  the 
+assembly  sorie  to  heare  it,  but  it  nothing  amased  Horatius, 
+who  spake  only  this  muche :  Cast  his  bodie  then  where  you 
+will  for  me,  the  thought  is  taken.  So  he  continued  on  to 
+ende  his  consecration.  This  was  but  a  devise  and  nothing 
+true,  of  Marcus  Valerius,  only  to  make  Horatius  leave  of  his 
+2L  265 
+
+
+PUBLICOLA 
+
+
+How  oft 
+lupiter  Capi- 
+tolins  temple 
+•was  burnt  and 
+built  againe. 
+
+
+How  much 
+was  spent  in 
+building  the 
+Capitoll. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+consecration.  Horatius  in  this  shewed  him  selfe  a  marvelous 
+resolute  man,  were  it  that  he  streight  founde  his  devise,  or 
+that  he  beleeved  it  to  be  true :  for  the  sodainenes  of  the 
+matter  nothing  altered  him.  The  very  like  matter  fell  out  in 
+consecrating  of  the  second  temple.  For  this  first  which 
+Tarquine  had  built  and  Horatius  consecrated,  was  consumed 
+by  fyer  in  the  civill  warres :  and  the  second  was  built  up 
+againe  by  Sylla,  who  made  no  dedication  of  it.  For  Catulus 
+set  up  the  superscription  of  the  dedication,  bicause  Sylla 
+dyed  before  he  could  dedicate  it.  The  second  temple  was 
+burnt  againe  not  long  after  the  troubles  and  tumultes 
+which  were  at  Rome,  under  Vitellius  the  Emperour.  The 
+third  in  like  manner  was  reedified  and  built  againe  by 
+Vespasian,  from  the  ground  to  the  toppe.  But  this  good 
+happe  he  had  above  other :  to  see  his  worke  perfited 
+and  finished  before  his  death,  and  not  overthrowen  as  it 
+was  immediately  after  his  death.  Wherein  he  dyd  farre 
+passe  the  happines  of  Sylla,  who  dyed  before  he  could 
+dedicate  that  he  had  built :  and  thother  deceased  before 
+he  sawe  his  worcke  overthrowen.  For  all  the  Capitoll 
+was  burnt  to  the  ground  incontinently  after  his  death. 
+It  is  reported  the  only  foundations  of  the  first  temple, 
+cost  Tarquinius  fortie  thousand  Pondos  of  silver.  And 
+to  gyld  only  the  temple  which  we  see  nowe  in  our 
+time,  they  saye  all  the  goodes  and  substaunce  that  the 
+richest  cittizen  of  Rome  then  had,  will  come  nothing 
+neere  unto  it :  for  it  cost  above  twelve  thousand  talents. 
+The  pillers  of  this  temple  are  cut  out  of  a  quarrie  of 
+marbell,  called  pentlike  marbell,  and  they  were  squared 
+parpine,  as  thicke  as  long:  these  I  sawe  at  Athens.  But 
+afterwardes  they  were  cut  againe,  and  polished  in  Rome, 
+by  which  doing  they  got  not  so  much  grace,  as  they  lost 
+proportion :  for  they  were  made  to  slender,  and  left  naked 
+of  their  first  beawtie.  Nowe  he  that  would  wounder  at  the 
+stately  buylding  of  the  Capitoll,  if  he  came  afterwardes  unto 
+the  palace  Domitian,  and  dyd  but  see  some  galerie,  porche, 
+hall,  or  hotte  house,  or  his  concubines  chambers  :  he  would 
+saye  (in  my  opinion)  as  the  poet  Epicharmus  sayed  of  a 
+prodigall  man : 
+266 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+It  is  a  fault,  and  folly  both  in  thee  PUBLICOLA. 
+
+to  lashe  out  giftes,  and  prodigall  rewardes  : 
+For  fonde  delights,  without  all  rule  that  be, 
+
+regarding  not  what  happens  afterwardes. 
+
+So  might  they  justly  saye  of  Domitian.     Thou  art  not 
+liberall,  nor  devoute  unto  the  goddes :  but  it  is  a  vice  thou 
+hast  to  love  to  buyld,  and   desirest  (as  they  saye  of  olde  Domitians 
+Midas)  that  all  about  thee  were  turned  to  gold,  and  precious  ^^^  building 
+stones.     And  thus  much  for  this  matter,     Tarquine  after    ^"^'"'• 
+that  great  foughten  battell  wherein  he  lost  his  sonne  (that 
+was  slaine  by  Brutus  in  fighting  together  hande  to  hande) 
+went  to  the  cittie  of  Clusium,  unto  king  Claras  Porsena : 
+the  mightiest  prince  that  raigned  at  that  time  in  all  Italic, 
+and  was  both  noble  and  a  curteous  prince.     Porsena  pro- 
+mised him  ayde  :  and  first  of  all  he  sent  to  Rome  to  summone 
+the  cittizens  to  receive  their  King  againe.    But  the  Romaines 
+refusing  the  summones,  he  sent  forthwith  an  Heraulde  to  Porsena 
+proclaime  open  warres  against  them,  and  to  tell  them  where,  proclaimeth 
+and  when  he  would  meete  them  :  and  then  marched  thither-  ^^'''*®^  ^^*" 
+wardes  immediatly  with  a   great  armie.      Publicola  nowe 
+being  absent,  was  chosen  Consul  the  second  time,  and  Titus  Publicola  and 
+Lucretius  with  him.     When  he  was  returned  home  againe  Titus  Lucre- 
+to  Rome,  bicause  he  would  exceede  king  Porsena  in  greatnes  ^^^^  Consuls. 
+of  minde,  he  beganne  to  buyld  a  cittie  called  Siglivria,  even 
+when  the  King  with  all  his  armie  was  not  farre  from  Rome  : 
+and  having  walled  it  about  to  his  marvelous  charge,  he  sent 
+thither  seven  hundred  cittizens  to  dwell  there,  to  shewe  that 
+he  made  litle  accompt  of  this  warre.     Howbeit  Porsena  at 
+his  coming  dyd  geve  suche  a  lustie  assault  to  the  mount 
+laniculum,  that  they  drave   out  the  souldiers  which  kept 
+the  same  :  who  flying  towards  Rome,  were  pursued  so  harde 
+with   the  enemies,  that  with   them  they  had    entered   the 
+towne,  had  not  Publicola  made  a  saly  out  to  resist  them. 
+Who  beganne  a  hotte  skirmishe  harde  by  the  river  of  Tyber, 
+and  there  sought  to  have  stayed  the  enemies  to  follow  any 
+further :  which  being  the  greater  number,  dyd  overlaye  the 
+Romaines,  and  dyd  hurte  Publicola  very  sore  in  this  skirmishe, 
+so  as  he  was  caried  away  into  the  cittie  in  his  souldiers  armes. 
+And  even  so  was  the  other  Consul  Lucretius  hurte  in  like 
+
+267 
+
+
+PUBLICOLA  case 
+they 
+
+
+Horatius 
+Codes  why 
+so  called. 
+
+
+Good  service 
+rewarded. 
+
+
+Publicola 
+Consul. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+:  which  so  discoraged  and  frayed  the  Romaines,  that 
+all  tooke  them  to  their  legges,  and  fled  towards  the 
+cittie.  The  enemies  pursued  them  at  their  heeles  as  farre 
+as  the  wodden  bridge :  so  that  the  cittie  was  in  marvelous 
+hazarde  of  taking  upon  the  sodaine.  But  Horatius  Codes, 
+and  Herminius,  and  Lucretius,  two  other  of  the  chiefest 
+noble  young  men  of  the  cittie,  stood  with  them  to  the 
+defence  of  the  bridge,  and  made  head  against  the  enemie. 
+This  Horatius  was  surnamed  Codes  (as  much  to  saye,  as  one 
+eye)  bicause  he  had  lost  one  of  them  in  the  warres.  Howbeit 
+other  writers  saye,  it  was  bicause  of  his  flat  nose  which  was 
+so  soncke  into  his  head,  that  they  sawe  nothing  to  parte  his 
+eyes,  but  that  the  eye  browes  dyd  meete  together :  by  reason 
+whereof  the  people  thinking  to  surname  him  Cyclops,  by 
+corruption  of  the  tongue  they  called  him  (as  they  saye) 
+Codes.  But  howsoever  it  was,  this  Horatius  Codes  had  the 
+courage  to  shew  his  face  against  the  enemie,  and  to  kepe 
+the  bridge,  untill  such  time  as  they  had  cut  and  broken  it 
+up  behind  him.  When  he  saw  they  had  done  that,  armed 
+as  he  was,  and  hurte  in  the  hippe  with  a  Dike  of  the  Thuscans, 
+he  leaped  into  the  river  of  Tyber,  and  saved  him  selfe  by 
+swimming  unto  the  other  side.  Publicola  woundring  at  this 
+manly  acte  of  his,  persuaded  tlie  Romaines  straight,  every 
+one  according  to  his  abilitie,  to  give  him  so  much  as  he 
+spent  in  a  daye :  and  afterwards  also  he  caused  the  common 
+treasury  to  geve  him  as  much  lande  as  he  could  compasse 
+about  with  his  plowe  in  a  daye.  Furthermore  he  made  his 
+image  of  brasse  to  be  set  up  in  the  temple  of  Vulcane,  com- 
+forting by  this  honour  his  wounded  hippe,  whereof  he  was 
+lame  ever  after.  Nowe  whilest  king  Porsena  was  hottely 
+bent,  very  straightly  to  besiege  Rome,  there  beganne  a 
+famine  among  the  Romaines :  and  to  encrease  the  daunger, 
+there  came  a  newe  armie  out  of  Thuscane,  which  overrane, 
+burnt,  and  made  waste,  all  the  territorie  of  Rome.  Where- 
+upon Publicola  being  chosen  Consul,  then  the  third  time, 
+thought  he  should  neede  to  doe  no  more  to  resist  Porsena 
+bravely,  but  to  be  quiet  only,  and  to  looke  well  to  the  safe 
+keeping  of  the  cittie.  Howbeit  spying  his  oportunity,  he 
+secretly  stole  out  of  Rome  with  a  power,  and  did  set  upon 
+268 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+the  Thuscans  that  destroyed  the  countrie  about :  and  over-  PUBLICOLA 
+threw  and  slue  of  them,  five  thousand  men.  As  for  the 
+historie  of  Mutius,  many  doe  diversely  reporte  it :  but  I  will  The  noble 
+write  it  in  such  sorte,  as  I  thincke  shall  best  agree  with  the  acte  of  Mutius 
+trothe.  This  Mutius  was  a  worthie  man  in  all  respects,  but  ^^^^  ^' 
+specially  for  the  warres.  He  devising  howe  he  might  come 
+to  kill  king  Porsena,  disguised  him  selfe  in  Thuscans  apparell, 
+and  speaking  Thuscan  very  perfectly,  went  into  his  campe, 
+and  came  to  the  Kings  chayer,  in  the  which  he  gave  audi- 
+ence:  and  not  knowing  him  perfectly,  he  durst  not  aske 
+which  was  he,  least  he  should  be  discovered,  but  drue  his 
+sworde  at  adventure,  and  slewe  him  whom  he  tooke  to  be 
+King.  Upon  that  they  layed  holde  on  him,  and  examined 
+him.  And  a  panne  full  of  fire  being  brought  for  the  King- 
+that  entended  to  doe  sacrifice  unto  the  goddes,  Mutius  held 
+out  his  right  hand  over  the  fire,  and  boldly  looking  the 
+King  full  in  his  face,  whilest  the  flesh  of  his  hand  dyd  frye 
+of,  he  never  chaunged  hewe  nor  contenaunce :  the  King 
+woundering  to  see  so  straunge  a  sight,  called  to  them  to 
+withdraw  the  fire,  and  he  him  selfe  dyd  deliver  him  his 
+sworde  againe.  Mutius  tooke  it  of  him  with  his  left  hand, 
+whereupon  they  saye  afterwardes,  he  had  geven  him  the 
+surname  of  Scaevola,  as  much  to  saye,  as  left  handed,  and  How  Mutius 
+told  him  in  taking  of  it :  Thou  couldest  not  Porsena  for  ^^"^^  ^^  ^^^ 
+feare  have  overcomed  me,  but  nowe  through  curtesy  thou  Scevola 
+hast  wonne  me.  Therefore  for  goodwill  I  will  reveale  that 
+unto  thee,  which  no  force,  nor  extremitie  could  have  made 
+me  utter.  There  are  three  hundred  Romaines  dispersed 
+through  thy  campe,  all  which  are  prepared  with  like  mindes 
+to  followe  that  I  have  begonne,  only  gaping  for  oportunitie 
+to  put  it  in  practise.  The  lot  fell  on  me  to  be  the  first  to 
+breake  the  Ise  of  this  enterprise :  and  yet  I  am  not  sorie  my 
+hande  fayled,  to  kill  so  worthie  a  man,  that  deserveth  rather 
+to  be  a  friend,  then  an  enemie  unto  the  Romaines.  Porsena 
+hearing  this,  did  beleeve  it,  and  ever  after  he  gave  the  more 
+\v'illing  eare  to  those  that  treated  with  hmi  of  peace :  not  so 
+much  (in  my  opinion)  for  that  he  feared  the  three  hundred 
+lying  in  waite  to  kill  him,  as  for  the  admiration  of  the 
+Romaines  noble  minde  and  great  corage.     All  other  writers 
+
+269 
+
+
+PUBLICOLA 
+
+
+Publicola 
+maketh  Por- 
+sena  judge, 
+betwext  them 
+and  the 
+Tarquines. 
+
+
+Peace 
+
+graunted  the 
+Romaines  by 
+Porsena. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+call  this  man,  Mutius  Scaevola :  howbeit  Athenodorus,  sur- 
+named  Sandon,  in  a  booke  he  wrote  unto  Octavia,  Augustus 
+sister,  sayeth  that  he  was  also  called  Opsigonus.  But 
+Publicola  taking  king  Porsena  not  to  be  so  daungerous  an 
+enemie  to  Rome,  as  he  should  be  a  profitable  friend  and 
+allie  to  the  same  :  let  him  understand,  that  he  was  contented 
+to  make  him  judge  of  the  controversie  betweene  them  and 
+Tarquine.  \Vhom  he  dyd  many  times  provoke  to  come  and 
+have  his  cause  heard  before  king  Porsena,  where  he  would 
+justifie  to  his  face,  that  he  was  the  naughtiest  and  most 
+wicked  man  of  the  world,  and  that  he  was  justly  driven  out 
+of  his  countrie.  Tarquine  sharpely  aunswered,  that  he 
+would  make  no  man  his  judge,  and  Porsena  least  of  all 
+other,  for  that  havmg  promised  him  to  put  him  againe  in 
+his  Kingdom,  he  was  nowe  gone  from  his  worde,  and  had 
+chaunged  his  minde.  Porsena  was  very  angrie  with  this 
+aunswer,  judging  this  a  manifest  token  that  his  cause  was 
+ill.  Wherefore  Porsena  being  solicited  againe  by  his  owne 
+Sonne  Aruns,  who  loved  the  Romaines,  dyd  easily  graunte 
+them  peace  upon  condition :  that  they  should  redeliver 
+backe  againe  to  him  the  lands  they  had  gotten  before 
+within  the  countrie  of  Thuscan,  with  the  prisoners  also 
+which  they  had  taken  in  this  warre,  and  in  liew  thereof  he 
+offered  to  deliver  to  them  againe  the  Romaines,  that  had 
+fled  from  them  unto  him.  To  confirme  this  peace,  the 
+Romaines  delivered  him  ostages,  tenne  of  the  noblest  mens 
+sonnes  of  the  cittie,  and  so  many  of  their  daughters  :  emong 
+which,  was  Valeria,  Publicolaes  owne  daughter.  Peace  being 
+thus  concluded,  Porsena  brake  his  armie,  and  withdrewe  his 
+strength,  trusting  to  the  peace  concluded.  The  Romaines 
+daughters  delivered  for  ostages,  came  downe  to  the  rivers 
+side  to  washe  them,  in  a  quiet  place  where  the  streame  ranne 
+but  gently,  without  any  force  or  swiftnes  at  all.  When  they 
+were  there,  and  saw  they  had  no  garde  about  them,  nor  any 
+came  that  waye,  nor  yet  any  botes  going  up  nor  down  the 
+streame :  they  had  a  desire  to  swime  over  the  river,  which 
+ranne  with  a  swift  streame,  and  was  marvelous  deepe.  Some 
+saye,  that  one  Claslia  swamme  the  river  upon  her  horse  backe, 
+and  that  she  did  imbolden  and  incorage  the  other  to  swimme 
+270 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+harde  by  her  horse  side :  and  recovering  the  other  bancke,  PUBLICOLA 
+
+and  being  past  all  daunger,  they  went  and  presented  them  Theboklenes 
+
+selves  before  Publicola  the  Consul.    Who  neither  commended  of  Clselia 
+
+them,  nor  liked  the  parte  they  had  played,  but  was  mar-  and  other 
+
+velous  sorie,  fearing  least  men  would  iudge  him  lesse  carefull  ^o")^"^^ 
+
+to  keepe  his  faith,  then  was   king  Porsena:    and  that  he       * 
+
+might  suspect  the  boldnes  of  these  maidens,  was  but  a  crafty 
+
+slight  devised  of  the  Romaines.     Therefore  he  tooke  them 
+
+all  againe,  and  sent  them  immediatly  unto  king  Porsena. 
+
+Whereof  Tarquine  having  intelligence,  he  layed  an  ambushe 
+
+for  them,  that  had  the  conduction  of  them.     Who  so  soone 
+
+as  they  were  paste  the  river,  did  shew  them  selves,  and  brake 
+
+upon  the  Romaines  :  they  being  farre  fewer  in  number  than 
+
+the  other,  did  yet  very  stowtely  defend  them  selves.     Now 
+
+whilest  they  were  in  earnest  fight  together,  Valeria  Publi- 
+
+colaes  daughter,  and  three  of  her  fathers  servants,  escaped 
+
+through  the  middest  of  them,  and  saved  them  selves.     The 
+
+residue  of  the  virgines  remained  in  the  middest  among  their 
+
+swordes,  in  great  daunger  of  their  lives.    Aruns  king  Porsenas 
+
+Sonne  advertised  hereof,  ranne  thither  incontinently  to  the 
+
+rescue  :  but  when  he  came,  the  enemies  fled,  and  the  Romaines 
+
+held  on  their  jorney  to  redeliver  their  ostages.     Porsena 
+
+seeing  them  againe,  asked  which  of  them  it  was  that  beganne 
+
+first  to  passe  the  river,  and  had  encouraged  the  other  to 
+
+followe  her.     One  pointed  him  unto  her,  and  told  him  her 
+
+name  was  Claelia.     He  looked  upon  her  very  earnestly,  and 
+
+wdth  a  pleasaunt  countenaunce,  and  commaunded  they  should 
+
+bring  him  one  of  his  best  horse  in  the  stable,  and  the  richest 
+
+furniture  he  had  for  the  same,  and  so  he  gave  it  unto  her. 
+
+Those  which  holde  opinion  that  none  but  Claelia  passed  the 
+
+river  a  horse  backe,  doe  alledge  this  to  prove  their  opinion 
+
+true.     Other  doe  denie  it,  saying  that  this  Thuscan  king, 
+
+did  onely  honour  her  noble  courage.      Howsoever  it  was, 
+
+they  see  her  image  a  horse  backe  in  the  holy  streete,  as  they 
+
+goe  to  the  palace:  and  some  saye  it  is  the  statue  of  Valeria, 
+
+other  of  Claelia.     After  Porsena  had  made  peace  with  the  The  liberalitle 
+
+Romaines,  in  breaking  up  his  campe,  he  shewed  his  noble  of  king  Por- 
+
+minde  unto  them  in  many  other  things,  and  specially  in  that  ^  "*  ^?  *^® 
+
+he  commaunded  his  souldiers  they  should  carie  nothing  but     ""^^^"^^* 
+
+an 
+
+
+PUBLICOLA 
+
+
+Marcus 
+
+Valerius, 
+
+Posthumius 
+
+Tubertus 
+
+Consuls. 
+
+Marcus 
+Valerius,  the 
+brother  of 
+Publicola, 
+triumpheth 
+of  the 
+Sabynes. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+their  armour  and  weapon  only,  leaving  his  campe  full  of 
+corne,  vittells,  and  other  kynde  of  goodes.  From  whence 
+this  custome  came,  that  at  this  daye  when  they  make  open 
+sale  of  any  thing  belonging  to  the  common  weale,  the  ser- 
+geant or  common  crier  crieth,  that  they  are  king  Porsenas 
+goodes,  and  taken  of  thankefuUnes  and  perpetuall  memorie 
+of  his  bowntie  and  liberalitie  towards  them.  Further, 
+Porsenas  image  standeth  adjoyning  to  the  palace  where  the 
+Senate  is  used  to  be  kept,  which  is  made  of  great  antike 
+worke.  Afterwardes  the  Sabynes  invading  the  Romaines 
+territorie  with  a  great  force,  Marcus  Valerius  Publicolaes 
+brother,  was  then  chosen  Consul,  with  one  Posthumius 
+Tubertus.  Howbeit  all  matters  of  weight  and  importaunce 
+passed  by  Publicolaes  counsell  and  authoritie,  who  was 
+present  at  any  thing  that  was  done :  and  by  whose  meanes 
+Marcus  his  brother,  wanne  two  great  battells,  in  the  last 
+whereof  he  slewe  thirteene  thousand  of  his  enemies,  not 
+losing  one  of  his  owne  men.  For  which  his  victories,  besides 
+the  honour  of  triumphe  he  had,  the  people  also  at  their 
+owne  charges,  built  him  a  house,  in  the  streete  of  mounte 
+Palatine,  and  graunted  him  moreover  that  his  doore  should 
+open  outwards  into  the  streete,  where  all  others  mens  doores 
+dyd  open  inwards  into  their  house :  signifying  by  graunte  of 
+this  honour  and  priviledge,  that  he  should  allwayes  have 
+benefit  by  the  common  weale.  It  is  reported  that  the 
+Grecians  doores  of  their  houses  in  olde  time,  dyd  all  open 
+outwards  after  that  facion,  and  they  doe  conjecture  it  by 
+the  comedies  that  are  played.  Where  those  that  would  goe 
+out  of  their  houses,  dyd  first  knocke  at  their  doores,  and 
+make  a  noyse  within  the  house,  least  in  opening  their  doore 
+upon  a  sodaine,  they  might  overthrowe  or  hurte  him  that 
+taried  at  the  streete  doore,  or  passed  by  the  waye :  who 
+hearing  the  noyse,  had  warning  straight  to  avoyde  the 
+daunger.  The  next  yere  after  that,  Publicola  was  chosen 
+Consul  the  fourth  time,  bicause  they  stoode  in  great  doubt 
+that  the  Sabynes  and  Latines  would  joyne  together  to  make 
+warres  upon  them :  besides  all  this,  there  was  a  certaine 
+superstitious  feare  ranne  through  the  cittie,  of  some  ill 
+happe  toward  it,  bicause  most  parte  of  the  women  with 
+272 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+childe  were  delivered  of  unperfect  children,  lacking  some  PUBLICOLA 
+one  limme  or  other,  and  all  of  them  came  before  their  time. 
+Wherfore  Publicola  looking  in  some  of  Sybillaes  books, 
+made  private  sacrifice  unto  Pluto,  and  did  set  up  againe 
+some  feastes  and  solemne  games  that  were  left  of,  and  had 
+bene  commaunded  before  time  to  be  kept  by  the  oracle  of 
+Apollo,  These  meanes  having  a  litle  rejoyced  the  cittie 
+with  good  hope,  bicause  they  thought  that  the  anger  of 
+the  goddes  had  bene  appeased :  Publicola  then  beganne  to 
+provide  for  the  daungers  that  they  were  threatned  with- 
+all  by  men,  for  that  newes  was  brought  him  that  their 
+enemies  were  up  in  all  places,  and  made  great  preparation 
+to  invade  them.  Nowe  there  was  at  that  time  amongest 
+the  Sabynes,  a  great  riche  man  called  Appius  Clausus,  very 
+strong  and  active  of  bodie,  and  otherwise  a  man  of  great 
+reputation  and  eloquence,  above  all  the  rest  of  his  countrie 
+men :  but  notwithstanding,  he  was  much  envied,  and  could 
+not  avoyde  it,  being  a  thing  common  to  great  men.  He 
+went  about  to  staye  those  intended  waiTes  against  the 
+Romaines.  Whereupon,  many  which  before  tooke  occasion 
+to  murmure  against  him,  dyd  nowe  much  more  increase  the 
+same :  with  saying  he  sought  to  mainteine  the  power  of  the 
+Romaines,  that  afterwards  by  their  ayde  he  might  make  him 
+selfe  tyranne  and  King  of  the  countrie.  The  common  people 
+gave  easy  eare  unto  such  speaches,  and  Appius  perceyving 
+well  enough  how  the  souldiers  hated  him  deadly,  he  feared 
+they  would  complaine,  and  accuse  him.  Wherefore  being 
+well  backed  and  stoode  to  by  his  kynsemen,  friends,  and 
+followers,  he  practised  to  make  a  sturre  among  the  Sabynes, 
+which  was  the  cause  of  staying  the  warres  against  the 
+Romaines.  Publicola,  also  for  his  parte  was  very  diligent, 
+not  only  to  understand  the  originall  cause  of  his  sedition, 
+but  to  feede  on  further  and  increase  the  same,  having  gotten 
+men  meete  for  the  purpose,  which  caried  Appius  such  a 
+message  from  him.  That  Publicola  knewe  very  well  he  was 
+a  just  man,  and  one  that  would  not  be  revenged  of  his 
+cittizens,  to  the  generall  hurte  of  his  countrie,  although  the 
+injuries  he  receyved  at  their  hands,  delivered  him  just  occa- 
+sion to  doe  it :  nevertheles  if  he  had  any  desire  to  provide 
+2  M  273 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+PUBLICOLA  for  his  safety  and  to  repaire  to  Rome,  leaving  them  which 
+causeles  wished  him  so  muche  evill,  they  would  both  openly 
+and  privately  receyve  him  with  that  due  honour  which  his 
+vertue  deserved  and  the  worthines  of  the  Romaine  people 
+required.  Clausus  having  long  and  many  times  considered 
+this  matter  with  him  selfe,  resolved  that  it  was  the  best  waye 
+he  could  take,  making  vertue  of  necessitie :  and  therefore 
+being  determined  to  doe  it,  he  dyd  procure  his  friends  to 
+doe  as  he  dyd,  and  they  got  other  also  unto  them,  so  that 
+Appius  he  brought  awaye  with    him  out  of  the   countrie  of  the 
+
+Clausus  goeth  Sabynes,  five  thousand  families  with  their  wives  and  children 
+to  dwel  at        ^Qf  \\^q  quietest  and  most  peacible  people  among  the  Sabynes) 
+^'"^"  to  dwel  at  Rome.     Publicola  being  advertised  thereof  before 
+
+they  came,  dyd  receyve  them  at  their  comming  to  Rome  with 
+great  joye,  and  all  manner  of  good  curteous  enterteinment. 
+For  at  their  first  coming,  he  made  them  all  and  their  families 
+free  cittizens,  and  assigned  unto  every  persone  of  them  two 
+jugera  of  lande,  (which  conteined  one  acre,  one  roode,  eleven 
+pole,  and  69  partes  of  a  pole)  by  the  river  of  Tyber :  and 
+unto  Appius  self  he  gave  25  jugera  (to  wit,  16  acres  and  a 
+halfe,  4  pole  and  76  partes  of  a  pole)  and  received  him  into 
+the  number  of  the  Senatours.  And  thus  came  he  first  unto 
+the  government  of  the  common  weale  in  Rome,  where  he  did 
+so  wisely  behave  him  self,  that  in  the  end  he  came  to  be  the 
+chiefest  man  of  dignitie  and  authoritie  in  Rome,  so  long  as 
+The  familie  of  he  lived.  After  his  death,  he  left  behind  him  the  familie  of 
+theClaudiaus.  ^j^g  Claudians,  descending  from  him  :  which  for  honour,  and 
+worthines,  gave  no  place  to  the  noblest  familie  in  Rome. 
+But  no  we  the  sedition  amongest  the  Sabynes  being  pacified, 
+by  the  departure  of  those  that  were  gone  to  Rome :  the 
+seditious  governours  would  not  suffer  those  that  remained 
+to  live  in  peace,  but  still  cried  out,  it  were  to  much  shame 
+for  them,  that  Clausus  being  a  fugitive,  and  become  an 
+enemie,  should  honour  their  enemies  abroade,  that  being 
+present  durst  not  shewe  so  much  at  home,  and  that  the 
+Romaines  should  scape  unrevenged,  who  had  done  them 
+such  apparant  wronges.  So  they  raised  great  force  and 
+power,  and  went  and  encamped  with  their  armie  neere  the 
+cittie  of  Fidenes,  and  layed  an  ambushe  harde  by  Rome,  in 
+274 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+certen  hidden  and  hollowe  places,  where  they  put  a  two  PUBLICOLA 
+thousand  choyce  footemen,  very  well  armed,  and  dyd 
+appoint  the  next  morning  to  send  certaine  light  horse  men 
+to  runne  and  praye  to  Rome  gates :  commaunding  them, 
+that  when  the  Romaines  came  out  of  the  cittie  to  charge 
+them,  they  should  seeme  leysurely  to  retire,  untill  they  had 
+drawen  them  within  daunger  of  their  ambush.  Publicola 
+receyving  full  intelligence  of  all  their  intention,  by  a  traytour 
+that  fled  from  them  unto  him,  made  due  preparation  to  en- 
+counter with  their  privie  ambushe,  and  so  devided  his  armie 
+in  two  partes :  for  he  gave  his  sonne  in  lawe  Posthumius 
+Balbus,  three  thousand  footemen,  whom  he  sent  awaye  by 
+night,  commaunding  them  the  same  night  to  take  the  hilles, 
+in  the  bottome  whereof  the  Sabynes  were  layed  in  ambushe, 
+Lucretius,  fellowe  Consull  with  Publicola,  having  the  lightest 
+and  lustiest  men  of  the  cittie,  was  appointed  to  make  head 
+against  the  vauntcurriers  of  the  Sabynes,  that  minded  to  ap- 
+proche  the  gates.  And  Publicola  with  the  rest  of  the  armie, 
+marched  a  great  compasse  about  to  inclose  his  enemies  behinde. 
+The  next  morning  betimes,  by  chaunce  it  was  a  thick  miste, 
+and  at  that  present  time  Posthumius  coming  down  from  the 
+hilles,  with  great  showtes,  charged  them  that  laye  in  ambush. 
+Lucretius  on  the  other  side,  set  upon  the  light  horsemen  of  the 
+Sabynes  :  and  Publicola  fell  upon  their  campe.  So  that  of  all 
+sides  the  Sabynes  enterprise  had  very  ill  successe,  for  they  had 
+the  worst  in  every  place,  and  the  Romaines  killed  them  flying, 
+without  any  turning  againe  to  make  resistance.  Thus  the 
+place  which  gave  them  hope  of  best  safety,  turned  most  to 
+their  deadly  overthrowe.  For  every  one  of  their  companies 
+supposing  the  other  had  bene  whole  and  unbroken,  when  a 
+charge  was  geven  upon  them,  dyd  straight  breake,  and  never  a 
+company  of  them  turned  head  toward  their  enemie.  For  they 
+that  were  in  the  campe,  ranne  toward  them  which  laye  in 
+ambushe :  and  those  which  were  in  ambushe  on  the  contrarie 
+side,  ranne  towards  them  that  were  in  campe.  So  that  in 
+flying,  the  one  met  with  the  other,  and  founde  those,  towards 
+whom  they  were  flying  to  have  bene  safe,  to  stand  in  as  much 
+neede  of  helpe  as  them  selves.  That  which  saved  some 
+that  were  not  slaine,  was  the  cittie  of  Fidenes,  which  was 
+
+275 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+
+The  Sabynes 
+slaine. 
+
+
+The  death  of 
+Publicola. 
+
+
+PUBLICOLA  neere  the  campe,  and  specially  saved  those  which  fled  thither. 
+But  such  as  came  shorte  of  the  cittie,  and  could  not  in  time 
+recover  it,  were  all  slaine  in  the  fielde,  or  taken  prisoners. 
+As  for  the  glorie  of  this  honorable  victorie,  albeit  the 
+Romaines  were  wonte  to  ascribe  all  suche  great  notable 
+matters  to  the  speciall  providence  and  grace  of  the  goddes, 
+yet  at  that  time  notwithstanding  they  dyd  judge,  that  this 
+happy  successe  fell  out  by  the  wise  foresight  and  valliantnes  of 
+the  captaine.  For  every  man  that  had  served  in  this  jorney, 
+had  no  other  talke  in  his  mouth,  but  that  Publicola  had 
+delivered  their  enemies  into  their  handes,  lame,  and  blinde, 
+and  as  a  man  might  saye,  bounde  hande  and  feete  to  kill 
+them  at  their  pleasure.  The  people  were  marvelously  en- 
+riched by  this  victorie,  aswell  for  the  spoile,  as  for  the 
+ransome  of  the  prisoners  that  they  had  gotten.  Nowe 
+Publicola  after  he  had  triumphed,  and  left  the  government 
+of  the  cittie  to  those,  which  were  chosen  Consuls  for  the 
+yere  following :  dyed  incontinently,  having  lived  as  honor- 
+ably and  vertuously  all  the  dayes  of  his  life,  as  any  man 
+living  might  doe.  The  people  then  tooke  order  for  his 
+funeralles,  that  the  charges  thereof  should  be  defrayed  by 
+the  cittie,  as  if  they  had  never  done  him  any  honour  in  his 
+life,  and  that  they  had  bene  still  debters  unto  him  for  the 
+noble  service  he  had  done  unto  the  state  and  common  weale 
+whilest  he  lived.  Therefore  towardes  his  funeralle  charges, 
+every  cittizen  gave  a  pece  of  money  called  a  Quatrine.  The 
+women  also  for  their  parte,  to  honour  his'funeralles,  agreed 
+among  them  selves  to  mourne  a  whole  yere  in  blackes  for  him, 
+which  was  a  great  and  honorable  memoriall.  He  was  buried 
+also  by  expresse  order  of  the  people,  within  the  cittie,  in 
+the  streate  called  Velia  :  and  they  graunted  priviledge  also 
+unto  all  his  posteritie,  to  be  buried  in  the  selfe  same  place. 
+Howbeit  they  doe  no  more  burie  any  of  his  there.  But 
+when  any  dye,  they  bring  the  corse  unto  this  place,  and  one 
+holding  a  torche  burning  in  his  hande,  doth  put  it  under  the 
+place,  and  take  it  straight  awaye  againe,  to  shewe  that  they 
+have  libertie  to  burie  him  there,  but  that  they  willingly 
+refuse  this  honour:  and  this  done,  they  carie 
+the  corse  awaye  againe. 
+
+
+His  fuue- 
+ralles. 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+
+THE    COMPARISON    OF 
+SOLON   WITH   PUBLICOLA 
+
+
+OWE  presently  to  compare  these  two  per- 
+sonages together,  it  seemeth  they  both 
+had  one  vertue  in  them :  which  is  not 
+fomide  in  any  other  of  their  lives  which 
+we  have  written  of  before.  And  the 
+same  is,  that  the  one  hath  bene  a  witnes, 
+and  the  other  a  follower  of  him,  to  whom 
+he  was  like.    So  as  the  sentence  that  Solon 
+
+
+spake  to  king  Croesus,  touching  Tellus  felicitie  and  happines, 
+might  have  better  bene  applied  unto  Publicola,  than  to  Publicola 
+Tellus :  whom  he  judged  to  be  very  happy,  bicause  he  dyed  happie. 
+honorably,  he  had  lived  vertuously,  and  had  left  behinde  him 
+goodly  children.  And  yet  Solon  speaketh  nothing  of  his 
+excellencie,  or  vertue,  in  any  of  his  poemes  :  neither  dyd  he 
+ever  beare  any  honorable  office  in  all  his  time,  nor  yet  left 
+any  children  that  caried  any  great  fame  or  renowme  after 
+his  death.  Whereas  Publicola  so  long  as  he  lived,  was 
+allwayes  the  chiefe  man  amongest  the  Romaines,  of  credit 
+and  authoritie :  and  afterwards  since  his  death,  certaine  of 
+the  noblest  families,  and  most  auncient  houses  of  Rome, 
+in  these  our  dayes,  as  the  Publicoles,  the  Messales,  and  the 
+Valerians,  for  six  hundred  yeres  continuance,  doe  referre  the 
+glorie  of  the  nobilitie  and  auncientie  of  their  house  unto 
+him.  Furthermore,  Tellus  was  slaine  by  his  enemies,  fight- 
+ing valliantly  like  a  worthy  honest  man.  But  Publicola 
+died  after  he  had  slaine  his  enemies :  which  is  faiTe  more 
+great  good  happe,  then  to  be  slaine.  For  after  he  as 
+generall  had  honorably  served  his  country  in  the  warres, 
+and  had  left  them  conquerers,  having  in  his  life  time  re- 
+ceyved  all  honours  and  triumphes  due  unto  his  service :  he 
+attained  to  that  happy  end  of  life,  which  Solon  accompted 
+and  esteemed,  most  happy  and  blessed.  Also  in  wishing 
+manner,  he  would  his  end  should  be  lamented  to  his  prayse, 
+
+277 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+SOLON       in  a  place  where  he  confuteth  Mimnermus,  about  the  con- 
+■*ND  tinuaunce  of  mans  life,  by  savina; : 
+
+PUBLICOLA  ^    J      J    s 
+
+Let  not  my  death  without  lamenting  passe, 
+
+but  rather  let  my  friendes  bewayle  the  same : 
+Whose  grievous  teares,  and  cries  of  out  alas,  . 
+
+maye  ofte  resound  the  Eccho  of  my  name. 
+
+If  that  be  good  happe,  then  most  happy  maketh  he 
+Publicola :  for  at  his  death,  not  only  his  friends  and  kinse- 
+folkes,  but  the  whole  cittie  also,  and  many  a  thousand 
+persone  besides,  dyd  bitterly  bewayle  the  losse  of  him.  For 
+all  the  women  of  Rome  dyd  mourne  for  him  in  blacks,  and 
+dyd  most  pittiefully  lament  his  death,  as  every  one  of  them 
+had  lost  either  father,  brother,  or  husband. 
+
+True  it  is,  that  I  covet  goodes  to  have  : 
+but  yet  so  got,  as  maye  me  not  deprave. 
+
+Solon  sayeth  this,  bicause  vengeance  followed  ill  gotten 
+good.  And  Publicola  tooke  great  heede,  not  only  to  get  his 
+goodes  most  justly,  but  had  regarde  that  those  which  he  had, 
+he  spent  most  honestly  in  helping  the  needie.  So  that  if 
+Solon  was  justly  reputed  the  wisest  man,  we  must  needes 
+confesse  also  that  Publicola  was  the  happiest.  For  what  the 
+one  desired  for  the  greatest  and  most  perfect  good,  a  man 
+can  have  in  this  worlde  :  the  other  hath  wonne  it,  kept  it,  and 
+used  it  all  his  life  time,  untill  the  hower  of  his  death.  And 
+thus  hath  Solon  honoured  Publicola,  and  Publicola  hath 
+done  like  unto  Solon,  shewing  him  self  a  perfect  example  and 
+looking  glasse,  where  men  maye  see  howe  to  goveme  a 
+popular  state :  when  he  made  his  Consulshippe  voyde  of 
+all  pride  and  stately  shewe,  and  became  him  self  affable, 
+curteous,  and  beloved  of  everie  bodie.  So  tooke  he  profit  by 
+many  of  his  lawes.  As  when  he  ordeined,  that  the  people 
+only  should  have  authoritie  to  choose  and  create,  all 
+common  officers  and  magistrates,  and  that  they  might  ap- 
+peale  from  any  judge  to  the  people  :  as  Solon  when  he 
+suffered  them  to  appeale  unto  the  judges  of  the  people. 
+In  deede  Publicola  dyd  not  create  any  newe  Senate,  as 
+Solon  dyd  :  but  he  dyd  augment  the  first  number,  with  as 
+many  persones  almost  as  there  were  before.     He  dyd  also 
+
+278 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+first  erect  the  office  of  Quccstores^  for  keeping  of  all  fines,       SOLON 
+taxes,  and  other  collections  of  money.     Bicause  the  chiefest  ^^^ 
+
+magistrate,  if  he  were  an  honest  man,  should  not  for  so  light  PUBLICOLA 
+an  occasion  be  taken,  from  the  care  of  better  and  more  Publicola 
+weightie  affayers  :  and  if  he  were  wickedly  geven  and  ill  dis-  elected  the 
+posed,  that  he  should  have  no  such  meane  or  occasion  to  Qucestores 
+worke  his  mcked  will,  by  having  the  treasure  of  the  cittie  in 
+his  handes,  and  to  commaund  what  he  lyst.  Moreover  in 
+hating  the  tyramies,  Publicola  therein  was  farre  more  shai-pe 
+and  terrible.  For  Solon  in  his  lawes  punished  him  that 
+went  about  to  make  him  selfe  tyranne,  yet  after  he  was  con- 
+victed thereof  by  lawe :  but  Publicola  ordeined  that  they 
+should  kill  him,  before  the  lawe  dyd  passe  on  him,  that 
+sought  to  be  King.  And  where  Solon  justly,  and  truely 
+vaunteth  him  self,  that  being  offered  to  be  King  and  Lord 
+of  Athens,  and  that  with  the  whole  consent  of  the  cittizens : 
+yet  he  dyd  notwithstanding  refuse  it.  This  vaunte  and 
+glorie  is  as  due  unto  Publicola :  who  finding  the  dignitie  of 
+a  Consul  tyrannicall,  he  brought  it  to  be  more  lowly  and 
+favorable  for  the  people,  not  taking  upon  him  all  the 
+authoritie  he  might  lawfully  have  done.  And  it  seemeth 
+that  Solon  knewe  before  him,  what  was  the  true  and  direct 
+waye  to  goveme  a  common  weale  uprightly.  For  he  sayeth 
+in  one  place : 
+
+Both  great  and  small  of  power,  the  better  will  obaye  : 
+if  we  to  litle  or  to  much,  upon  them  doe  not  laye. 
+
+The  discharging  of  dettes  was  proper  to  Solon,  which  was 
+a  full  confirmation  of  libertie.  For  litle  prevayleth  lawe  to 
+make  equalitie  among  cittizens,  when  dettes  doe  hinder  the 
+poore  people  to  enjoy e  the  benefit  thereof.  And  Avhere  it 
+seemeth  that  they  have  most  libertie,  as  in  that  they  maye  be 
+chosen  judges  and  officers  to  speake  their  opinion  in  the 
+counsell,  and  geve  their  voyces  also :  there  in  deede  are  they 
+most  bounde  and  subject,  bicause  they  doe  but  obaye  the 
+rich,  in  all  they  doe  commaund.  But  yet  in  this  acte  there 
+is  a  thinge  more  wonderfull,  and  worthie  to  be  noted.  That 
+commonly  discharging  of  dettes,  was  wont  to  breede  great 
+tumultes,   and   seditions   in   common   weales.      And   Solon 
+
+279 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+SOLON       having  used  it  in  a  very  good  time  (as  the  phisitian  ventring 
+ANn  a  daungerous  medecine)  dyd  appease   the  sedition  already 
+
+PUBLICOLA  begonne,  and  did  utterly  quenche  through  his  glorie,  and  the 
+common  opinion  they  had  of  his  wisdome  and  vertue,  all  the 
+infamie  and  accusation  that  might  have  growen  of  that  acte. 
+As  for  their  first  entrie  into  the  government,  Solons  begin- 
+ning was  farre  more  noble.  For  he  went  before,  and  followed 
+not  another :  and  him  selfe  alone  without  any  others  helpe, 
+dyd  put  in  execution  the  best,  and  more  parte  of  all  his 
+notable  and  goodly  lawes.  Yet  was  Publicolaes  ende  and 
+death  much  more  glorious  and  happie.  For  Solon  before 
+he  dyed,  sawe  all  his  comon  wealthe  overthrowen :  but 
+Publicolaes  common  weale  continued  whole  as  he  left  it, 
+untill  the  broyle  of  civill  warres  beganne  againe  among 
+them.  Solon,  after  he  had  made  his  lawes,  and  written 
+them  in  wodden  tables,  leaving  them  without  defence  of  any 
+man,  went  his  waye  imraediatly  out  of  the  cittie  of  Athens. 
+Publicola  abiding  continually  in  Rome  governing  the  state, 
+dyd  throughly  stablishe  and  confirme  the  lawes  he  made. 
+Furthermore  Solon  having  wisely  forseene  Pisistratus  prac- 
+tises, aspiring  to  make  him  selfe  King :  he  could  never  let 
+him  for  all  that,  but  was  him  selfe  overcome  and  oppressed 
+with  the  tyrannic  he  sawe  stablished  in  his  owne  sight,  and  in 
+dispight  of  him.  Where  Publicola  overthrewe  and  dyd  put 
+downe  a  mightie  Kingdome,  that  had  continued  of  long 
+time,  and  was  throughly  stablished :  his  vertue  and  desire 
+being  equall  with  Solons,  and  having  had  besides  fortune 
+favorable,  and  sufficient  power  to  execute,  his  vertuous  and 
+well  disposed  minde.  But  as  for  warres  and  marshall  deedes, 
+there  is  no  comparison  to  be  made  betweene  them.  For 
+Daimachus  Plataeian,  doth  not  attribute  the  warres  of  the 
+Megarians  unto  Solon,  as  we  have  written  it :  where  Publi- 
+cola being  generall  of  an  armie,  and  fighting  him  selfe  in 
+persone,  hath  wonne  many  great  battells.  And  as  for 
+matters  of  peace  and  civill  government,  Solon  never  durst 
+present  him  self  openly  to  persuade  the  enterprise  of  Sala- 
+mina,  but  under  a  counterfeat  madnes,  and  as  a  foole  to 
+make  sporte.  Where  Publicola  taking  his  adventure  from 
+the  beginning,  shewed  him  selfe  without  dissimulation,  an 
+280 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+open  enemie  to  Tarquine,  and  afterwardes  he  revealed  the       SOLON 
+whole  conspiracie.     And  when  he  had  bene  the  only  cause  and 
+
+and  autor  of  punishing  the  traitours,  he  dyd  not  only  drive  PUBLICOLA 
+out  of  Rome  the  tyrannes  selves  in  persone,  but  tooke  from 
+them  also  all  hope  of  returne  againe.  Who  having  allwayes 
+thus  nobly  and  valliantly  behaved  him  self,  without  shrinking 
+backe,  or  flying  from  ought  that  required  force,  a  manly 
+corage,  or  open  resistaunce :  dyd  yet  shewe  him  selfe  dis- 
+creete,  where  wisedome  was  requisite,  or  reason  and  persuasion 
+needefull.  As  when  he  conningly  wanne  king  Porsena,  who 
+was  a  dredfuU  enemie  unto  him,  and  invincible  by  force: 
+whom  he  handled  in  such  good  sorte,  that  he  made  him  his 
+friend.  Peradventure  some  might  stand  in  this  and  saye : 
+that  Solon  recovered  the  He  of  Salamina  unto  the  Athe- 
+nians, which  they  would  have  lost.  Publicola  to  the  con- 
+trarie,  restored  the  lands  unto  Porsena  againe,  which  the 
+Romaines  had  conquered  before,  within  the  countrie  of 
+Thuscan.  But  the  times  in  which  these  things  were  done, 
+are  allwayes  to  be  considered  of.  For  a  wise  govemour  of  a  A  politicke 
+Realme,  and  politicke  man,  doth  governe  diversely  according  precept, 
+to  the  occasions  ofFred,  taking  every  thing  in  his  time 
+wherein  he  will  deale.  And  many  times,  in  letting  goe  one 
+thing,  he  saveth  the  whole  :  and  in  losing  a  litle,  he  gayneth 
+much.  As  Publicola  dyd  :  who  losing  a  litle  pece  of  another 
+mans  countrie  which  they  had  usui-ped,  saved  by  that  meanes 
+all  that  was  assuredly  his  owne.  And  whereas  the  Romaines 
+thought  he  should  doe  very  much  for  them,  to  save  their 
+cittie  only  :  he  got  them  moreover,  all  the  goodes  that  were  in 
+their  enemies  campe,  which  dyd  besiege  them.  And  in  making 
+his  enemie  judge  of  his  quarrell,  he  wanne  the  victorie : 
+winning  that  moreover,  which  he  would  gladly  have  geven  to 
+have  overcome,  and  have  sentence  passe  of  his  side.  For  the 
+King  their  enemie  dyd  not  only  make  peace  with  them,  but 
+dyd  also  leave  them  all  his  furniture,  provision,  and  munition 
+for  the  warres:  even  for  the  vertue,  manhood,  and  justice, 
+which  the  great  wisedome  of  this  Consul  persuaded  Porsena 
+to  beleeve  to  be,  in  all  the  other  Romaines. 
+
+THE   ENDE   OF   PUBLICOLAES    LIFE 
+
+2N  981 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+
+THE  LIFE  OF  THEMISTOCLES 
+
+
+Cynosargos, 
+a  place  of 
+exercise  de- 
+dicated to 
+Hercules, 
+
+
+Themistocles 
+towardnes. 
+
+
+HEMISTOCLES  parentage  dyd  litle  ad- 
+vaunce  his  glorie :  for  his  father  Neocles 
+was  of  small  reputation  in  Athens, 
+being  of  the  hundred  of  Phrear,  and 
+tribe  of  Leontis :  of  his  mother  an 
+allien  or  straunger :  as  these  verses  doe 
+witnesse, 
+
+
+Abrotonon  I  am,  yborne  in  Thracia, 
+
+and  yet  this  highe  good  happe  I  have,  that  into  Grecia 
+I  have  brought  forth  a  sonne,  Themistocles  by  name, 
+
+the  glorie  of  the  Greekishe  bloods,  and  man  of  greatest  fame. 
+
+Howbeit  Phanias  writeth,  that  his  mother  was  not  a 
+Thracian,  but  borne  in  the  countrie  of  Caria :  and  they  doe 
+not  call  her  Abrotonon,  but  Euterpe.  And  Neanthes  sayeth 
+furthermore,  that  she  was  of  Halicamassus,  the  chiefest  cittie 
+of  all  the  Realme  of  Caria.  For  which  cause  when  the 
+straungers  dyd  assemble  at  Cynosargos  (a  place  of  exercise 
+without  the  gate  dedicated  to  Hercules,  which  was  not  a 
+right  god,  but  noted  an  alien,  in  that  his  mother  was  a  mortall 
+woman :)  Themistocles  persuaded  divers  youthes  of  the  most 
+honourable  houses,  to  goe  down  with  him,  and  to  annointe 
+them  selves  at  Cynosargos,  conningly  thereby  taking  away 
+the  difference  betwene  the  right  and  alien  sorte.  But  setting 
+a  parte  all  these  circumstaunces,  he  was  no  doubt  allied  unto 
+the  house  of  the  Lycomedians :  for  Themistocles  caused  the 
+chappell  of  this  familie,  which  is  in  the  village  of  Phlyes, 
+being  once  burnt  by  the  barbarous  people,  to  be  buylt  up 
+againe  at  his  owne  charges :  and  as  Simonides  sayeth,  he  dyd 
+set  it  forth  and  enriche  it  with  pictures.  Moreover  every 
+man  doth  confesse  it,  that  even  from  his  childhood  they  dyd 
+perceyve  he  was  geven  to  be  very  whotte  headed,  sturring, 
+wise,  and  of  good  spirite,  and  enterprising  of  him  selfe  to 
+doe  great  things,  and  borne  to  rule  weighty  causes.     For  at 
+
+282 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+such  dayes  and  bowers  as  he  was  taken  from  his  booke,  and     THEMIS- 
+had  leave  to  playe,  be  never  played,  nor  would  never  be  idle,      TOCLES 
+as  other  children  were :  but  they  allwayes  founde  him  con- 
+ning some  oration  without  booke,  or  making  it  alone  by 
+him  selfe,  and  the  ground  of  his  matter  was  ever  comonly, 
+either  to  defend,  or  accuse  some  of  his  companions.    Where- 
+upon his  schoolemaster  observing  him,  ofte  sayed  unto  him : 
+Suer  some  great  matter  hangeth  over  thy  head  my  boye,  for 
+it  cannot  be  chosen  but  that  one  daye  thou  shalt  doe  some 
+notable  good  thing,  or  some  extreme  mischief.     Therefore 
+when  they  went  about  to  teache  him  any  thing,  only  to 
+checke  his  nature,  or  to  facion  him  with  good  manner  and 
+civilitie,  or  to   studie  any  matter  for  pleasure   or  honest 
+pastime :    he  would  slowly  and    carelesly  learne   of  them. 
+But  if  they  delivered  him  any  matter  of  wit,  and  things  of 
+weight  concerning  state :    they  sawe  he  would  beate  at  it 
+marvelously,  and  would  understande  more  then  any  could 
+of  his  age  and  cariage,  trusting  altogether  to  his  naturall 
+mother  wit.     This  was  the  cause,  that  being  mocked  after- 
+wardes   by  some   that   had   studied   humanitie,  and  other 
+liberall  sciences,  he  was  driven  for  revenge  and  his  owne 
+defence,  to  aunswer  with  great  and  stowte  wordes,  saying, 
+that  in  deede  he  could  no  skill  to  tune  a  harpe,  nor  a  violl, 
+nor  to  playe  of  a  psalterion :  but  if  they  dyd  put  a  cittie 
+into  his  handes  that  was  of  small  name,  weake,  and  litle,  he 
+knewe  wayes  enough  how  to  make  it  noble,  stronge,  and 
+great.     Nevertheles,  Stesimbrotus  ^vriteth,  how  he  went  to 
+Anaxagoras  schoole,  and  that  under   Melissus   he   studied  Themistocles 
+naturall  philosophic.     But  herein  he  was  greatly  deceaved,  ^^^  Anaxa- 
+for   that   he   tooke   no   great   hede   unto   the   time.      For  fig^gjl," 
+Melissus  was  captaine  of  the  Samians  against  Pericles,  at  schoUer. 
+what  time  he  dyd  laye  seige  unto  the  cittie  of  Samos.     Now 
+this  is  true,  Pericles  was  much  younger  then  Themistocles, 
+and  Anaxagoras    dwelt  with    Pericles  in   his    owne  house. 
+Therefore  we  have  better  reason  and  occasion  to  beleeve 
+those   that  write,  Themistocles   dyd   determine  to  foUowe 
+Mnesiphilus  Phrearian.     For  he  was  no  professed   Orator,  MnesiphUus 
+nor  naturall  philosopher,  as  they  termed  it  in  that  time:  but  Phrearian, 
+made  profession  of  that  which  then  they  called  wisedome. 
+
+283 
+
+
+THEMIS- 
+TOCLES 
+
+What  wise- 
+dome  was  in 
+olde  time. 
+
+
+Howe  the 
+
+name  of 
+Sophisters 
+came  up. 
+
+Themistocles 
+youthe. 
+
+
+The  privie 
+grudge  be- 
+twext  Themis- 
+tocles and 
+Aristides. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE   NOBLE 
+
+Which  was  no  other  thing,  but  a  certen  knowledge  to  handle 
+great  causes,  and  an  indevour  to  have  a  good  wit  and  judg- 
+ment in  matters  of  state  and  government :  which  profession 
+beginning  in  Solon,  dyd  continue,  and  was  taken  up  from 
+man  to  man,  as  a  secte  of  philosophic.  But  those  that  came 
+sithence,  have  mingled  it  with  arte  of  speache,  and  by  litle 
+and  litle  have  translated  the  exercise  of  deedes,  unto  bare 
+and  curious  wordes :  whereupon  they  were  called  Sophisters^ 
+as  who  would  saye,  counterfeate  wise  men.  Notwithstanding, 
+when  Themistocles  beganne  to  medle  with  the  government 
+of  the  common  weale,  he  followed  much  Mnesiphilus.  In 
+the  first  parte  of  his  youth,  his  behaviour  and  doings  were 
+very  light  and  unconstant,  as  one  caried  awaye  with  a  rashe 
+head,  and  without  any  order  or  discretion :  by  reason  where- 
+of his  manners  and  conditions  seemed  marvelously  to  chaunge, 
+and  oftimes  fell  into  very  ill  favored  events,  as  him  self  dyd 
+afterwards  confesse  by  saying :  that  a  ragged  colte  oftimes 
+proves  a  good  horse,  specially  if  he  be  well  ridden,  and 
+broken  as  he  should  be.  Other  tales  which  some  will  seeme 
+to  adde  to  this,  are  in  my  opinion  but  fables.  As  that  his 
+father  dyd  disinherite  him,  and  that  his  mother  for  very  care 
+and  sorowe  she  tooke  to  see  the  lewde  life  of  her  sonne,  dyd 
+kill  her  self.  For  there  are  that  write  to  the  contrary,  that 
+his  father  being  desirous  to  take  him  from  dealing  in  govern- 
+ment, dyd  goe  and  shewe  him  all  alongest  the  sea  shore,  the 
+shippewracks  and  ribbes  of  olde  gallyes  cast  here  and  there, 
+whereof  no  reckoning  was  made,  and  sayed  to  him  :  Thus  the 
+people  use  their  govemours,  when  they  can  serve  no  lenger. 
+Howsoever  it  was,  it  is  most  true  that  Themistocles  earnestly 
+gave  him  self  to  state,  and  was  sodainely  taken  with  desire 
+of  glorie.  For  even  at  his  first  entrie,  bicause  he  would  set 
+foote  before  the  prowdest,  he  stoode  at  pyke  against  the 
+greatest  and  mightiest  persones,  that  bare  the  swaye  and 
+government,  and  specially  against  Aristides,  Lysimachus 
+Sonne,  who  ever  encountered  him,  and  was  still  his  adversarie 
+opposite.  Yet  it  seemeth  the  evil  will  he  conceyved  toward 
+him,  came  of  a  very  ight  cause.  For  they  both  loved 
+Stesilaus,  that  was  borne  in  the  cittie  of  Teos,  as  Ariston  the 
+philosopher  writeth.  And  after  this  jealousie  was  kindled 
+284 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+betweene  them,  they  allwayes    tooke    contrary   parte    one     THEMIS- 
+against  another,  not  only  in  their  private  likings,  but  also  in      TOCLES 
+the  government  of  the  common  weale.    Yet  I  am  persuaded, 
+that  the  difference   of  their  manners  and   conditions,  did 
+much  encrease  the  grudge  and  discorde  betwext  them.     For 
+Aristides  being  by  nature  a  very  good  man,  a  just  dealer,  Aristides  a 
+and  honest  of  life,  and  one  that  in  all  his  doings  would  never  just  man. 
+flatter  the  people,  nor  serve  his  owne  glorie,  but  rather  to 
+the  contrary  would  doe,  would  saye,  and  counsaill  allwayes 
+for  the  most  ibenefit  and  commoditie  of  the  common  weale : 
+was  oftetimes  enforced  to  resist  Themistocles,  and  disapoint 
+his  ambition,  being  ever  busilie  moving  the  people,  to  take 
+some  new  matter  in  hande.     For  they  reporte  of  him,  that 
+he  was  so  inflamed  with  desire  of  glorie,  and  to  enterprise  Themistocles 
+great  matters,  that  being  but  a  very  yoong  man  at  the  ambition, 
+battell  of  Marathon,  where  there  was  no  talke  but  of  the 
+worthines  of  captaine  Miltiades  that  had  wonne  the  battell : 
+he  was  found  many  times  solitarilie  there  alone  devising  with 
+him  self :  besides,  they  saye  he  could  then  take  no  rest  in  the 
+night,  neither  would  goe  to  playes  in  the  daye  time,  nor 
+would  keepe  corapanie  with  those  whom  he  was  accustomed 
+to  be  familiar  withall  before.     Furthermore,  he  would  tell 
+them  that  woundred  to  see  him  so  in  his  muses,  and  chaunged, 
+and  asked  him  what  he  ayled :  that  Miltiades  victorie  would 
+not  let  him  sleepe,  bicause  other  thought  this  overthrow  at 
+Marathon,  would  have  made  an  end  of  all  warres.     Howbeit 
+Themistocles  was  of  a  contrary  opinion,  and  that  it  was  but 
+a  beginning  of  greater  troubles.    Therefore  he  daylie  studied 
+howe  to  prevent  them,  and  how  to   see  to  the  safetie  of 
+Greece,  and  before  occasion  offered,  he  did  exercise  his  cittie 
+in   feats   of  warre,  foreseeing   what    should    followe   after. 
+Wherefore,  where  the  cittizens  of  Athens  before  dyd  use  to 
+devide  among  them  selves  the  revenue  of  their  mines  of 
+silver,  which  were  in  a  parte  of  Attica  called  Laurion :  he 
+alone  was  the  first  that  durst  speake  to  the  people,  and  per-  Themistocles 
+suade  tliem,  that  from  thenceforth  they  should  cease  that  persuaded  his 
+distribution  among  them  selves,  and  employe  the  money  of  contnemen  to 
+the  same  in  making  of  gallyes,  to  make  warres  against  the  ^^  ^  ^^  ^^^' 
+^ginetes.     For  their  warres  of  all  Greece  were  most  cruell, 
+
+285 
+
+
+THEMIS- 
+TOCLES 
+
+
+The  Athe- 
+nians bent 
+their  force 
+to  sea,  by 
+Themistocles 
+persuasion. 
+
+
+Themistocles 
+a  good  hus- 
+band to  looke 
+for  his  profit. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE   NOBLE 
+
+bicause  they  were  lords  of  the  sea,  and  had  so  great  a  number 
+of  shippes.  This  persuasion  drue  the  cittizens  more  easely 
+to  Themistocles  minde,  than  the  threatning  them  with  king 
+Darius,  or  the  Persians  would  have  done :  who  were  farre 
+from  them,  and  not  feared  that  they  would  come  neere  unto 
+them.  So  this  oportunitie  taken  of  the  hatred  and  jealousie 
+betwene  the  Athenians  and  the  ^ginetes,  made  the  people 
+to  agree,  of  the  said  money  to  make  an  hundred  gallyes, 
+with  which  they  fought  against  king  Xerxes,  and  did  over- 
+come him  by  sea.  Now  after  this  good  beginning  and 
+successe,  he  wanne  the  cittizens  by  degrees  to  bende  their 
+force  to  sea,  declaring  unto  them,  howe  by  lande  they  were 
+scant  able  to  make  heade  against  their  equalles,  whereas  by 
+their  power  at  sea,  they  should  not  only  defende  them  selves 
+from  the  barbarous  people,  but  moreover  be  able  to  com- 
+maund  all  Grece.  Hereupon  he  made  them  good  mariners, 
+and  passing  sea  men,  as  Plato  sayeth,  where  before  they 
+were  stowte  and  valliant  souldiers  by  lande.  This  gave  his 
+enemies  occasion  to  cast  it  in  his  teethe  afterwards,  that  he 
+had  taken  away  from  the  Athenians  the  pike  and  the  target, 
+and  had  brought  them  to  the  banke  and  the  ower :  and  so 
+he  got  the  upper  hand  of  Miltiades.  Who  inveyed  against 
+him  in  that,  as  Stesimbrotus  writeth.  Now  after  he  had 
+thus  his  will,  by  bringing  this  sea  service  to  passe,  whether 
+thereby  he  dyd  overthrow  the  justice  of  the  comon  weale  or 
+not,  I  leave  that  to  the  philosophers  to  dispute.  But  that 
+the  preservation  of  all  Grece  stoode  at  that  time  upon  the 
+sea,  and  that  the  gallyes  only  were  the  cause  of  setting  up 
+Athens  againe  :  Xerxes  him  self  is  a  sufficient  witnes,  besides 
+other  proofes  that  might  be  brought  thereof.  For  his  armie 
+by  lande  being  yet  whole,  and  unset  on,  when  he  saw  his 
+armie  by  sea  broken,  dispersed,  and  souncke,  he  fled  straight 
+upon  it,  confessing  as  it  were  that  he  was  nowe  to  weake  to 
+deale  any  more  with  the  Greecians,  and  left  Mardonius  his 
+lieutenant  in  Greece,  of  purpose  in  my  opinion,  rather  to  let 
+that  the  Greecians  should  not  followe  him,  then  for  any  hope 
+he  had  to  overcome  them.  Some  write  of  Themistocles, 
+that  he  was  a  very  good  husband  for  his  own  profit,  and 
+carefull  to  looke  to  his  things :  for  he  dyd  spende  liberally, 
+286 
+
+
+m 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+and  loved  ofte  to  make  sacrifices,  and  honorably  to  receyve  THEMIS- 
+and  entertaine  straungers  :  wherefore  he  had  good  reason  to  TOCLES 
+be  carefuU  to  get,  to  defraye  his  charges.  Other  to  the 
+contrary,  blame  him  much,  that  he  was  to  nere,  and  miser- 
+able :  for  some  saye,  he  would  sell  presents  of  meate  that 
+were  geven  him.  He  dyd  aske  one  Philides  on  a  time,  which 
+had  a  brede  of  mares,  a  colte  of  gifte :  who  denying  him 
+flatly,  he  was  so  angrie,  that  he  threatned  him  ere  it  were 
+long  he  would  make  his  house  the  horse  of  wodde,  with  the 
+which  Troia  was  taken.  Meaning  covertly  to  let  him  under- 
+stande,  that  he  would  shortly  set  strife  and  quarrel  betwext 
+him,  and  his  nearest  kinsemen  and  familliar  friends.  It  is 
+true  that  he  was  the  most  ambitious  man  of  the  world.  For  Themistocles 
+when  he  was  but  a  young  man,  and  scantly  knowen,  he  extremely 
+earnestly  intreated  one  Epicles,  borne  at  Hermionna,  an  ^'"''it^**"^. 
+excellent  player  of  the  citherne,  and  counted  at  that  time 
+the  conningest  man  in  all  Athens  at  that  instrument,  that 
+he  would  come  and  teache  his  arte  at  his  house :  and  all  was 
+no  more,  but  that  many  people  being  desirous  to  heare  him 
+playe,  should  aske  for  his  house,  and  come  thither  to  him. 
+And  one  yere  when  he  went  unto  the  feast  and  assembly  of 
+the  playes  Olympicall,  he  would  nedes  keepe  open  house  for 
+all  commers,  have  his  tents  richely  furnished,  and  a  great 
+traine  of  servants  and  all  other  furniture,  only  to  contende 
+with  Cimon.  This  marvelously  spighted  the  Greecians,  who 
+thought  Themistocles  expences  fit  for  Cimons  countenance, 
+and  abilitie,  bicause  he  was  a  young  gentleman,  and  of  a 
+noble  house :  but  for  him  that  was  but  a  newe  come  man, 
+and  would  beare  a  greater  porte,  then  either  became  his 
+calling  or  abilitie,  they  thought  it  not  only  unallowable  in 
+him,  but  meere  presumption  and  vaine  glorie.  Another 
+time  he  defrayed  the  whole  charges  of  a  tragedie  which  was 
+played  openly  :  and  being  set  out  therein  to  have  wonne  the 
+prise,  and  the  Athenians  being  marvelous  desirous  of  the 
+honour  in  such  playes,  he  caused  this  victorie  of  his  to  be 
+painted  in  a  table,  which  he  did  dedicate  and  set  up  in 
+a  temple,  with  this  inscription :  '  Themistocles  Phrearian 
+'  defrayed  the  charges :  Phrynicus  made  it :  Adimantus  was 
+'  chief  ruler."    Yet  notwithstanding  he  was  well  taken  of  the 
+
+287 
+
+
+THEMIS- 
+TOCLES 
+
+
+A  wise  saying 
+of  Themis- 
+tocles. 
+
+
+Themistocles 
+made  Aris- 
+tides  to  be 
+banished. 
+
+
+Epicydes  an 
+orator  sued  to 
+be  generall. 
+
+
+Arthmius 
+defamed  for 
+bribing. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE   NOBLE 
+
+common  people,  partly  bicause  he  would  speake  to  every 
+cittizen  by  his  name,  no  man  telling  him  their  names :  and 
+partly  also  bicause  he  shewed  him  self  an  upright  judge  in 
+private  mens  causes.  As  one  daye  he  aunswered  the  poet 
+Simonides,  borne  in  Chio,  who  dyd  request  an  unreasonable 
+matter  at  his  hands,  at  that  time  when  he  was  governour  of 
+the  cittie :  Thou  couldest  be  no  good  poet,  Simonides,  if 
+thou  diddest  singe  against  the  rules  of  musike :  neither  my 
+self  a  good  governour  of  a  citie,  if  I  should  doe  any  thing 
+against  the  lawe.  And  mocking  the  same  Simonides  another 
+time,  he  told  him  he  was  but  a  foole  to  speake  ill  of  the 
+Corinthians,  considering  they  were  lords  of  so  great  and 
+strong  a  cittie.  Likewise  he  was  not  wise  to  make  him  self 
+to  be  drawen,  being  so  deformed  and  ill  favored.  But  being 
+growne  in  credit,  and  having  wonne  the  favour  of  the  people, 
+he  was  such  an  enemy  to  Aristides,  that  in  the  end  he  made 
+him  to  be  expulsed  and  banished  Athens,  for  5  yeres.  When 
+newes  were  brought  that  the  king  of  Persia  was  onwardes 
+on  his  jorney  and  coming  downe  to  make  warres  upon  the 
+Greecians  :  the  Athenians  consulted  whom  they  should  make 
+their  generall.  And  it  is  reported,  that  all  their  common 
+counsellers  which  were  wont  to  speake  in  matters,  fearing 
+the  daunger,  dyd  drawe  backe,  save  an  orator  called  Epicydes, 
+Euphemides  sonne,  very  eloquent  in  speache,  but  somwhat 
+womanishe,  fainte  harted,  and  gredie  of  money,  offred  him 
+self  to  sue  for  this  charge,  and  had  some  hope  to  obteine  it. 
+Wherefore  Themistocles  fearing  all  would  not  be  well,  if  it 
+fell  to  this  man  to  be  generall  of  the  armie,  he  bought  out 
+Epicydes  ambition  with  ready  money,  and  so  made  him 
+let  fall  his  sute.  It  fell  out  Themistocles  was  greatly 
+comended,  about  that  was  done  to  the  interpreter,  that  came 
+with  the  king  of  Persiaes  ambassadours,  and  demaunded  the 
+empire  of  the  Greecians  both  by  sea  and  lande,  that  they 
+should  acknowledge  obedience  to  the  King.  For  he  caused 
+him  to  be  taken,  and  put  to  death  by  a  comon  consent,  for 
+using  the  Greeke  tongue  in  the  service  and  commaundement 
+of  the  barbarous  people.  It  was  a  notable  thing  also,  that 
+at  his  motion,  Arthmius  born  at  Zelea,  was  noted  of  infamie, 
+both  he,  his  children,  and  all  his  posteritie  after  him,  bicause 
+288 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+he  brought  gold  from  the  king  of  Persia,  to  corrupt  and  THEMIS- 
+winne  the  Greecians.  But  the  greatest  and  worthiest  acte  TOCLES 
+he  did  in  those  parts,  was  this :  that  he  pacified  all  civill 
+warres  among  the  Greecians,  persuading  the  citties  to  leave 
+of  their  quarrels  untill  the  warres  were  done,  in  the  which 
+they  saye  Chileus  Arcadian  did  helpe  him  more  then  any 
+other  man.  He  being  now  chosen  generall  of  the  Athenians,  Themistocles 
+went  about  presently  to  imbarke  his  cittizens  into  gallyes,  generall  of  the 
+declaring  to  them  they  should  leave  their  cittie,  and  goe  ^  enians 
+mete  with  the  barbarous  King  by  sea,  so  farre  from  the  Xerxes. 
+coast  of  Greece  as  they  could :  but  the  people  did  not 
+thincke  that  good.  Wherefore  he  led  great  numbers  of 
+souldiers  by  lande,  into  the  countrie  of  Tempes  with  the 
+Lacedaemonians,  to  keepe  the  passage  and  entrie  into  Thes- 
+salie,  against  the  barbarous  people,  which  countrie  stoode 
+yet  sownde  to  Greece,  and  not  revolted  to  the  Medes. 
+Afterwards  the  Grecians  coming  from  thence  without  any 
+acte  done,  and  the  Thessalians  also  being  wonne  somewhat 
+on  the  Kings  side,  for  that  all  the  whole  country  unto  Bceotia 
+was  at  the  devotion  and  goodwill  of  the  barbarous  people : 
+then  the  Athenians  beganne  to  finde,  howe  Themistocles 
+opinion  to  fight  by  sea  was  very  good.  Wherupon  they 
+sent  him  with  their  navie  to  the  cittie  of  Artemisium,  to 
+kepe  the  straight.  There  the  other  Grecians  would  have 
+had  the  Lacedaemonians  and  their  admirall  Eurybiades  to 
+have  had  the  authoritie  and  commaundement  of  the  rest. 
+But  the  Athenians  would  not  set  sayle  under  any  other 
+admirall  then  their  own,  bicause  theirs  were  the  greatest 
+number  of  shippes  in  the  armie,  and  above  all  the  other 
+Grecians.  Themistocles  foreseing  the  daunger  that  was 
+likely  to  fall  out  amongest  them  selves,  dyd  willingly  yelde 
+the  whole  authoritie  unto  Eurybiades,  and  got  the  Athenians 
+to  agree  unto  it :  assuring  them,  that  if  they  behaved  them 
+selves  valliantly  in  these  warres,  the  other  Greecians  of  their 
+own  accorde  would  afterwards  submit  them  selves  unto 
+their  obedience.  Hereby  it  appeareth,  that  he  only  of  all 
+other  was  at  that  time,  the  originall  cause  of  the  saving  of 
+Greece,  and  dyd  most  advaunce  the  honour  and  glorie  of 
+the  Athenians,  by  making  them  to  overcome  their  enemies 
+2  O  289 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+THEMIS-  by  force,  and  their  friends  and  allies  with  liberalitie.  In  the 
+TOCLES  meane  time,  Eurybiades  seing  the  barbarous  flete  riding  at 
+anker,  all  alongest  the  He  of  Aphetes,  with  such  a  great 
+number  of  shippes  in  the  vaward,  he  beganne  to  be  affrayed. 
+And  understanding  moreover,  there  were  other  200  sayle 
+that  went  to  cast  about  the  He  of  Sciathe,  and  so  to  come 
+in  :  he  presently  would  have  retired  further  into  Greece,  and 
+would  have  drawen  neerer  unto  Peloponnesus,  to  the  end 
+their  army  by  sea  might  be  neare  their  army  by  lande,  as 
+thinking  it  unpossible  to  fight  with  king  Xerxes  power  by 
+sea.  Whereupon  the  inhabitants  of  the  He  of  Euboea,  fear- 
+ing least  the  Grecians  would  to  the  spoyle  of  the  enemy, 
+they  caused  Themistocles  secretly  to  be  spoken  with  all,  and 
+sent  him  a  good  somme  of  money  by  one  called  Pelagon. 
+Themistocles  tooke  the  money,  as  Herodotus  writeth,  and 
+gave  it  to  Eurybiades.  But  there  was  one  Architeles 
+amongest  the  Athenians,  captaine  of  the  galley  called  the 
+holy  galley,  that  was  much  against  Themistocles  intended 
+purpose :  who  having  no  money  to  paye  his  mariners,  dyd 
+what  he  could  that  they  might  departe  with  speede  from 
+thence.  Themistocles  sturred  up  then  his  souldiers  more 
+against  him  then  before,  insomuch  as  they  went  aborde  his 
+galley,  and  tooke  his  supper  from  him.  Architeles  being 
+marvelous  angrie  and  offended  withall,  Themistocles  sent 
+him  both  bread  and  meat  in  a  pannier,  and  in  the  bottome 
+thereof  he  had  put  a  talent  of  silver,  bidding  him  for  that 
+night  to  suppe  with  that,  and  the  next  morning  he  should 
+provide  for  his  mariners,  or  els  he  would  complaine,  and 
+accuse  him  to  the  cittizens  that  he  had  taken  money  of  the 
+enemies.  Thus  it  is  written  by  Phanias  Lesbian.  Moreover 
+these  first  fights  in  the  straite  of  Eubcea,  betweene  the 
+Greecians,  and  the  barbarous  people,  were  nothing  to  pur- 
+pose to  end  the  warres  betwene  them.  For  it  was  but  a 
+taste  geven  unto  them,  which  served  the  Greecians  turne  very 
+much,  by  making  them  to  see  by  experience,  and  the  manner 
+of  the  fight,  that  it  was  not  the  great  multitude  of  shippes, 
+nor  the  pompe  and  sumptuous  setting  out  of  the  same,  nor 
+the  prowde  barbarous  showts  and  songes  of  victorie  that 
+could  stande  them  to  purpose,  against  noble  harts  and 
+290 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+valliant  minded  souldiers,  that  durst  grapple  with  them,  and  THEMIS- 
+come  to  hands  strokes  ^vith  their  enemies :  and  that  they  TOCLES 
+should  make  no  reckoning  of  all  that  bravery  and  bragges, 
+but  should  sticke  to  it  like  men,  and  laye  it  on  the  jacks  of 
+them.  The  which  (as  it  seemeth)  the  poet  Pindarus  under- 
+stoode  very  well,  when  he  sayed  touching  the  battell  of 
+Artemisium  : 
+
+The  stowte  Athenians,  have  nowe  foundation  layed, 
+unto  the  libertie  of  Greece,  by  thes  assaults  assayed. 
+
+For  out  of  doubt  the  beginning  of  victorie,  is  to  be  bardie.  The  coast  of 
+This  place  Artemisium  is  a  parte  of  the  lie  of  Euboea,  look-  Artemisium. 
+ing  towards  the  North,  above  the  cittie  of  Estiaea,  lying 
+directly  over  against  the  country  which  somtimes  was  under 
+the  obedience  of  the  Philoctetes,  and  specially  of  the  cittie 
+of  Olizon.  There  is  a  litle  temple  of  Diana,  surnamed 
+Orientall,  round  about  the  which  there  are  trees,  and  a  com- 
+passe  of  pillers  of  white  stone,  which  when  a  man  rubbes 
+with  his  hande,  they  shewe  of  the  culler  and  savour  of 
+safFerne.  And  in  one  of  those  pillers  there  is  an  inscription 
+of  lamentable  verses  to  this  effect : 
+
+When  boldest  bloods  of  Athens  by  their  might 
+
+had  overcome,  the  numbers  infinite 
+
+of  Asia :  they  then  in  memorie, 
+
+of  all  their  dedes,  and  valliant  victorie 
+
+beganne  to  build,  this  noble  monument : 
+
+and  to  Diane  the  same  they  dyd  present, 
+
+for  that  they  had  the  Medes  likewise  subdued, 
+
+and  with  their  bloud,  their  hardy  hands  embrued. 
+
+There  is  a  place  scene  also  upon  that  coast  at  this  daye,  a 
+good  waye  into  the  lande,  in  the  middest  whereof  are  great 
+sands  full  of  blacke  dust  as  ashes  :  and  they  thincke  that  they 
+burnt  in  that  place  all  dead  bodies  and  olde  shippwracks. 
+Newes  being  brought  what  had  bene  done  in  the  countrie  of 
+Thermopyles,  how  that  king  Leonidas  was  dead,  and  how 
+that  Xerxes  had  wonne  that  entry  into  Greece  by  lande : 
+the  Greecians  then  brought  their  whole  army  by  sea  more 
+into  Greece,  the  Athenians  being  in  the  rereward  in  this 
+retire,  as  men  whose  hartes  were  lifte  up  with  the  glorie  of 
+
+291 
+
+
+THEMIS- 
+TOCLES 
+
+Themistocles 
+stratageame. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+their  former  valliant  dedes.     Nowe  Themistocles  passing  by 
+those  places  where  he  knewe  the  enemies  must  of  necessitie 
+fall  upon  the  lee  shore  for  harborow :  he  dyd  ingrave  certen 
+wordes  spoken  unto  the  lonians,  in  great  letters  in  stone, 
+which  he  founde  there  by  chaunce,  or  purposely  brought 
+thither  for  that  purpose,  where  there  was  very  good  barber 
+for  shippes,  and  fit  places  also  to  lye  in.     These  were  the 
+wordes,  that  the  lonians  should  take  the  Greecians  partes 
+being  their  founders  and  auncesters,  and  such  as  fought  for 
+their  libertie :  or  at  the  least  they  should  trouble  the  armie 
+of  the  barbarous  people,  and  doe  them  all  the  mischief  they 
+could,  when  the  Greecians  should  come  to  fight  with  them. 
+By  these  words  he  hoped  either  to  bring  the  lonians  to  take 
+their  parte,  or  at  the  least  he  should  make  the  barbarous 
+people  jealous   and    mistrustfull   of  them.      Xerxes   being 
+already  entred  in  the  uppermost  parte  of  the  province  of 
+Dorica,  into  the  countrie  of  Phocida,  burning  and  destroying 
+the  townes  and  citties  of  the  Phocians :  the  other  Greecians 
+laye   still    and   suffered   the   invasion,  notwithstanding  the 
+Athenians  did  request  them  to  mete  with   the  barbarous 
+armie  in  Boeotia,  to  save  the  countrie  of  Attica,  as  before  they 
+had  done,  when  they  went  by  sea  to  Artemisium.     But  they 
+would  not  hearken  to  it  in  no  wise,  and  all  was  bicause  they 
+were  desirous  they  should  drawe  to  the  straite  of  Peloponnesus, 
+and  there   they  should   assemble   the  whole   strength  and 
+power  of  Greece  within  the  barre  of  the  same,  and  make  a 
+strong  substantiall  walle  from  the  one  sea  to  the  other.    The 
+Athenians  were  very  angrie  at  this  devise,  and  were  half  dis- 
+coraged  and  out  of  harte,  to  see  them  selves  thus  forsaken 
+and  cast  of,  by  the  rest  of  the  Greecians.     For  it  was  out  of 
+all  speache  that  they  alone  should  fight  against  so  many 
+thousands  of  enemies :  and  therefore  their  only  remedy  was, 
+to  leave  their  cittie :    and  to  get  them  to  the  sea.     The 
+people  were  very  unwilling  to  listen  hereunto,  making  their 
+reckoning  it  was  nedeles  to  be  carefull  to  overcome,  or  to 
+save  them  selves,  having  once  forsaken  the  temples  of  their 
+godds,  and  the  graves  of  their  parents.     Wherfore  Themis- 
+tocles seeing  that  neither  reason,  nor  mans  persuasion  could 
+bring  the  people  to  like  his  opinion 
+292 
+
+
+he  beganne  to  frame  a 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+devise  (as  men  doe  use  somtimes  in  tragedies)  and  to  threaten     THEMIS- 
+the  Athenians  with  signes  from  heaven,  with  oracles  and      TOCLES 
+aunswers  from  the  goddes.     And  the  occasion  of  Minervaes 
+draggon  served  his  tume  for  a  celestiall  signe  and  token, 
+which  by  good  fortune  dyd  not  appeare  in  those  dayes  in 
+the  temple  as  it  was  wont  to  doe :  and  the  priests  found  the 
+sacrifices  which  were  daylie  offered  to  him,  whole  and  un- 
+touched by  any.    Wherefore  being  enformed  by  Themistocles 
+what  they  should  doe,  they  spred  a  brute  abroade  amongest 
+the  people,  that  the  goddesse  Minerva,  the  protectour  and 
+defendour  of  the  cittie,  had  forsaken  it,  pointing  them  the 
+waye  unto  the  sea.     And  againe  he  wanne  them  by  a  pro- 
+phecie,  which   commaunded   them   to  save  them  selves  in 
+walles  of  wodd  :  saying,  that  the  walles  of  wodd  dyd  signifie  Wodden 
+nothing  els  but  shippes.    And  for  this  cause  he  saied,  Apollo  walles  signifie 
+in  his  oracle  called  Salamina  divine,  not  miserable  nor  unfor-  ^"'PP^- 
+tunate,  bicause  it  should  geve  the  name  of  a  most  happy 
+victorie  which  the  Greecians  should  get  there.     And  so  at 
+the  last  they  following  his  counsell,  he  made  this  decree,  that 
+they  should  leave  the  cittie  of  Athens  to  the  custodie  of  the  The  Athe- 
+goddesse  Pallas,  that  was  lady  and  governour  of  the  country,  nians  forsake 
+and  that  all  those  which  were  of  age  to  carie  any  weapon  m^      -^.^i 
+should  get  them  to  the  gallyes :  and  for  the  rest,  that  every  persuasion 
+man  should  see  his  wife,  children,  and  bondmen  placed  in  and  doe  goe 
+some  suer  place  as  well  as  he  could.     After  this  decree  was  to  the  sea. 
+past  and  authorised  by  the  people,  the  most  parte  of  them 
+did  convey  their  aged  fathers  and  mothers,  their  wives  and 
+litle  children,  into  the  cittie  of  Trcezen,  where  the  Troeze- 
+nians  receyved  them  very  lovingly  and  gently.    For  they  gave 
+order  that  they  should  be  entertained  of  the  common  charge, 
+allowing  them  a  pece,  two  obulos  of  their  money  a  daye,  and 
+suffered  the  young  children  to  gather  fruite  wheresoever  they 
+founde  it :  and  furthermore  dyd  hier  schoolemasters  at  the 
+charge  of  the  common  wealth,  to  bring  them  up  at  schoole. 
+He   that  was   the   penner   of  this    decree,  was   one   called 
+Nicagoras.      The  Athenians  at  that  time,  had   no   comon 
+money,  but   the    Senate   of  the   Areopagites   (as  Aristotle 
+sayeth)  furnished  every  souldier  with  eight  drachmas,  which 
+was  the   only  meane   that   the   gallyes  were   armed.     Yet 
+
+293 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+THEMIS-  Clidemus  writeth,  that  this  was  a  crafte  devised  of  Themis- 
+TOCLES  tocles.  The  Athenians  being  come  downe  unto  the  haven 
+of  Piraea,  he  made  as  though  Pallas  tergat  (on  the  which 
+Medusus  heade  was  graven)  had  bene  lost,  and  was  not 
+found  with  the  image  of  the  goddesse  :  and  faining  to  seeke 
+for  it,  he  ransacked  every  corner  of  the  gallyes,  and  founde 
+a  great  deale  of  silver  which  private  persones  had  hidden 
+amongest  their  fardells.  This  money  was  brought  out 
+unto  the  people,  and  by  this  meanes  the  souldiers  that 
+were  shipped  had  wherewithall,  to  provide  them  of 
+necessary  things.  When  time  came  that  they  were  to 
+departe  the  haven,  and  that  all  the  cittie  of  Athens  had 
+taken  sea :  one  waye  it  was  a  pittie  to  beholde  them. 
+Another  waye  it  made  all  sortes  to  wounder,  that  considered 
+the  boldnes  and  corage  of  those  men,  which  before  sent 
+awaye  their  fathers,  and  mothers  from  them,  and  were 
+nothing  moved  at  the  teares,  cries,  sherikes,  and  imbrasings 
+of  their  wives,  their  children,  and  departures,  but  stowtly 
+and  resolutely  helde  on  their  course  to  Salamina.  Notwith- 
+standing, there  were  many  olde  cittizens  left  still  of  necessitie 
+in  Athens,  bicause  they  could  not  be  removed  for  very 
+extreme  age,  which  sturred  many  with  compassion  toward 
+them.  There  was  besides,  a  certen  pittie  that  made  mens 
+harts  to  yerne,  when  they  saw  the  poore  doggs,  beasts,  and 
+cattell  ronne  up  and  downe  bleating,  mowing,  and  howling 
+out  alowde  after  their  masters,  in  token  of  sorowe,  when 
+they  dyd  imbarke.  Amongest  these,  there  goeth  a  straunge 
+Xanthippus  tale  of  Xanthippus  dogge,  who  was  Pericles  father :  which 
+dogge.  for  sorowe  his  master  had  left  him  behinde  him,  dyd  cast 
+
+him  self  after  into  the  sea,  and  swimming  still  by  the  galleys 
+side  wherein  his  master  was,  he  helde  on  to  the  He  of 
+Salamina,  where  so  sone  as  the  poore  curre  landed,  his 
+breath  fayled  him,  and  dyed  presently.  They  saye,  at  this 
+The  dogges  daye  the  place  called  the  doggs  grave,  is  the  very  place 
+grave.  where  he  was  buried.     These  were  straunge  actes  of  Themis- 
+
+tocles,  that  beholding  the  Athenians  sory  for  the  absence  of 
+Aristides,  and  fearing  least  of  spyte  he  taking  parte  with  the 
+barbarous  nation,  might  have  bene  the  ruine  and  distruction 
+of  the  state  of  Greece,  being  banished  five  yeres  also  before 
+294 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+the  warres,  by  Themistocles  procurement :  that  he  dyd  set     THEMIS- 
+forth  a  decree,  that  all  those  which  had  bene  banished  for      TOCLES 
+a  time,  might  retume  home  againe,  to  doe,  to  saye,  and  to  Aristides  re- 
+geve  counsell  to  the  cittizens  in  those  things,  which  they  turneth  from 
+thought   best  for  the   preservation  of   Greece.      And  also  bv'rhemis^ 
+where  Eurybiades,  being   generall  of  the  Greecians  whole  tocles  decree, 
+army  by  sea,  for  the  worthines  of  the  cittie  of  Sparta,  but 
+otherwise  a  rancke  coward  at  time  of  neede,  woidd  in  any 
+case  departe   from   thence,  and   retire   into  the  goulfe   of 
+Peloponnesus,  where  all  the  army  of  the  Peloponnesians  was 
+by  lande  assembled  :  that  Themistocles  withstood  him,  and 
+did  hinder  it  all  he  could.     At  that  time  also  it  was,  that 
+Themistocles  made  so  notable  aunswers,  which  specially  are  Notable 
+noted,  and  gathered  together.     For  when  Eurybiades  sayed  aunswers  of 
+one  day  unto  him  :  Themistocles,  those  that  at  playes  and  Themistocles. 
+games  doe  rise  before  the  company,  are  whistled  at.     It  is 
+true,  said  Themistocles :  but  those  that  tarie  last  so,  doe 
+never  winne  any  game.     Another  time  Eurybiades  having  a 
+staffe  in  his  hande  lift  it  up,  as  though  he  would  have  striken 
+him.     Strike  and  thou  wilt,  said  he,  so  thou  wilt  heare  me. 
+Eurybiades  womidring  to  see  him  so  pacient,  suffered  him 
+then  to  saye  what  he  would.     Then  Themistocles  beganne 
+to  bring  him  to  reason :  but  one  that  stoode  by  sayed  unto 
+him :  Themistocles,  for  a  man  that  hath  neither  cittie  nor 
+house,  it  is  an  ill  parte  to  will  others  that  have,  to  forsake 
+all.     Themistocles  turning  to  him,  replied  :   We  have  will- 
+ingly forsaken  our  houses  and  walles,  sayed  he,  cowardly 
+beaste  that  thou  arte,  bicause  we  would  not  become  slaves 
+for  feare  to  lose  things,  that  have  neither  soule  nor  life. 
+And  yet  our  cittie  I  tell  thee  is  the  greatest  of  all  Greece : 
+for  it  is  a  fleete  of  two  hundred  galleys  ready  to  fight,  which 
+are  come  hither  to  save  you  if  you  list.     But  if  you  will 
+needes  goe  your  wayes,  and  forsake  us  the  seconde  time  : 
+you  shall  heare  tell  ere  it  be  long,  that  the  Athenians  have 
+another  free  cittie,  and  have  possessed  againe  as  much  good 
+land,  as  that  they  have  already  lost.     These  wordes  made 
+Eurybiades  presently  thincke,  and  feare,  that  the  Athenians 
+would  not  goe,  and  that  they  would  forsake  them.     And 
+as  another  Eretriau  was  about  to  utter  his  reason  against 
+
+295 
+
+
+THEMIS- 
+TOCLES 
+
+The  Sleue  is  a 
+fishe  facioned 
+like  a  sworde. 
+
+
+Themistocles 
+stratageame, 
+by  the  which 
+he  wanue  the 
+battell  at 
+Salamina. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+Themistocles  opinion  :  he  could  not  but  aunswer  him  :  Alas, 
+and  must  you  my  masters  talke  of  warres  to,  that  are  like  to 
+a  Sleue?  In  deede  you  have  a  sworde,  but  you  lacke  a 
+harte.  Some  write,  that  whilest  Themistocles  was  talking 
+thus  from  his  galley,  they  spyed  an  owle  flying  on  the  right 
+hande  of  the  shippes,  which  came  to  light  on  one  of  the 
+mastes  of  the  galleys :  and  that  hereupon  all  the  other 
+Greecians  dyd  agree  to  his  opinion,  and  prepared  to  fight  by 
+sea.  But  when  the  flete  of  their  enemies  shippes  shewed  on 
+the  coastes  of  Attica,  harde  by  the  haven  Phalericus,  and 
+covered  all  the  rivers  thereabouts,  as  farre  as  any  bodie  could 
+see,  and  that  king  Xerxes  him  selfe  was  come  in  persone 
+with  all  his  army  by  lande,  to  campe  by  the  sea  side :  so 
+that  his  whole  power  both  by  lande  and  sea  might  be 
+scene  in  sight :  then  the  Greecians  had  forgotten  all  Themis- 
+tocles goodly  persuasions,  and  beganne  to  incline  againe  to 
+the  Peloponnesians,  considering  how  they  might  recover  the 
+goulfe  of  Peloponnesus,  and  they  dyd  growe  very  angry, 
+when  any  man  went  about  to  talke  of  any  other  matter. 
+To  be  shorte,  it  was  concluded  that  they  should  sayle  awaye 
+the  next  night  following,  and  the  masters  of  the  shippes  had 
+order  geven  them  to  make  all  things  readie  for  them  to 
+departe.  Themistocles  perceyving  their  determination,  he 
+was  marvelous  angry  in  his  minde,  that  the  Greecians  would 
+thus  disperse  them  selves  a  sender,  repairing  every  man  to 
+his  owne  cittie,  and  leaving  the  advantage  which  the  nature 
+of  the  place,  and  the  straight  of  the  arme  of  the  sea,  where 
+they  laye  in  barber  together,  did  offer  them :  and  so  he 
+bethought  him  selfe  howe  this  was  to  be  holpen.  Sodainely 
+the  practise  of  one  Sicinus  came  into  his  minde,  who  being  a 
+Persian  borne,  and  taken  prisoner  before  in  the  warres,  loved 
+Themistocles  very  well,  and  was  schoolemaster  to  his  children. 
+This  Sicinus  he  secretly  sent  unto  the  king  of  Persia,  to 
+advertise  him  that  Themistocles  (generall  of  the  Athenians) 
+was  very  desirous  to  become  his  majesties  servaunte,  and 
+that  he  dyd  let  him  understand  betimes,  that  the  Greecians 
+were  determined  to  flye :  and  therefore  that  he  wished  him 
+not  to  let  them  scape,  but  to  set  upon  them,  whilest  they 
+were  troubled  and  affrayed,  and  farre  from  their  army  by 
+^96 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+lande,  to  the  ende  that  upon  a  sodaine  he  might  overthrowe  THEMIS- 
+their  whole  power  by  sea.  Xerxes  supposing  this  inteUi-  TOCLES 
+gence  came  from  a  man  that  wished  him  well,  receyved  the 
+messenger  with  great  joye,  and  thereupon  gave  present  order 
+to  his  captaines  by  sea,  that  they  should  imbarke  their  men 
+into  the  other  shippes  at  better  leysure,  and  that  presently 
+they  should  put  out  with  all  possible  speede,  two  hundred 
+sayle  to  followe  the  Greeeians  in  the  taile,  to  shut  up  the 
+foreland  of  the  straite,  and  to  compasse  the  lies  all  about, 
+that  not  one  of  his  enemies  shippes  should  scape :  and  so  it 
+fell  out.  Then  Aristides  (Lysimachus  sonne)  being  the  first 
+that  perceyved  it,  went  to  Themistocles  tente,  though  he 
+was  his  enemie,  and  through  his  only  meanes  had  bene 
+banished  before,  as  ye  have  heard  :  and  calling  him  out,  told 
+him  how  they  were  environned.  Themistocles,  who  knewe 
+well  enough  the  goodnes  of  this  man,  being  very  glad  he 
+came  at  that  time  to  seeke  him  out,  declared  unto  him  the 
+pollicie  he  had  used  by  the  message  of  Sicinus,  praying  him 
+to  put  to  his  helpe  to  staye  the  Greeeians,  and  to  procure  Themistocles 
+with  him,  considering  his  worde  had  more  authoritie  among  ^^^  Aristides 
+them,  that  they  would  fight  within  the  straight  of  Salamina.  ^'gjher  to^'eve 
+Aristides  commending  his  great  wisdome,  went  to  deale  ^vith  battell. 
+the  captaines  of  the  other  gallyes,  and  to  procure  them  to 
+fight.  For  all  this,  they  would  not  credit  that  he  sayed, 
+untill  such  time  as  there  arrived  a  galley  of  Tenediena, 
+whereof  one  Panetius  was  captaine,  who  being  stolen  out  of 
+the  hoste  of  the  barbarous  army,  brought  certen  newes,  that 
+the  straight  out  of  doubt  was  shut  up.  So  that  besides  the 
+necessitie  which  dyd  urge  them,  the  spight  which  the  Greeeians 
+concey\'ed  thereof,  dyd  provoke  them  to  hazard  the  battell. 
+The  next  morning  by  breake  of  daye,  king  Xerxes  placed 
+him  selfe  on  a  marvelous  steepe  highe  hill,  from  whence  he 
+might  descerne  his  whole  flete,  and  the  ordering  of  his  army 
+by  sea,  above  the  temple  of  Hercules,  as  Phanodemus  writetli. 
+Which  is  the  narrowe  waye  or  channell  betwext  the  He  of 
+Salamina,  and  the  coast  of  Attica  :  or  as  Acestodorus  sayeth, 
+upon  the  confines  of  the  territories  of  Megara,  above  the 
+pointe  which  they  commonly  call  the  homes.  There  Xerxes 
+set  up  a  throne  of  golde,  and  had  about  him  many  secretaries, 
+2P  297 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+
+THEMIS- 
+TOCLES 
+
+
+Xerxes  king 
+of  Persia  had 
+a  thousand 
+ships. 
+
+
+to  write  all  that  was  done  in  the  battell.  But  as  Themis- 
+tocles  was  sacrificing  unto  the  goddes  in  his  galley  that  was 
+admiral,  they  brought  to  him  three  young  prisoners,  fayer  of 
+complexion,  richely  arrayed  with  gold  and  juells,  whom  they 
+sayed  were  the  children  of  Sandauce  the  kings  sister,  and  of 
+prince  Autarctus.  So  soone  as  Euphrantides  the  soothesayer 
+had  scene  them,  and  at  their  arrivall  observed  there  rose  a 
+great  bright  flame  out  of  the  sacrifice,  and  at  the  very  selfe 
+same  instant  that  one  on  his  right  hand  had  sneesed  :  he 
+tooke  Themistocles  by  the  hand,  and  willed  him  to  sacrifice 
+all  those  three  prisoners  unto  the  god  Bacchus,  surnamed 
+Omestes,  as  much  to  saye,  as  the  cruell  Bacchus :  for  in 
+doing  it,  the  Greecians  should  not  only  be  saved,  but  they 
+should  have  the  victorie  over  their  enemies.  Themistocles 
+woundred  much,  to  heare  so  straunge  and  terrible  a  com- 
+maundement  of  the  soothsayer.  Nevertheles,  the  comon 
+sorte  following  his  custome,  which  is,  to  promise  safety  soner 
+in  the  greatest  daungers,  and  most  desperate  cases,  by 
+straunge  and  unreasonable,  rather  then  by  reasonable  and 
+ordinary  meanes :  they  beganne  to  call  upon  the  god  with 
+one  voyce,  and  bringing  the  three  prisoners  neere  unto  the 
+altar,  they  compelled  him  to  performe  the  sacrifice  in  that 
+sorte  as  the  soothesayer  had  appointed.  Phanias  Lesbian, 
+an  excellent  philosopher,  and  well  scene  in  stories  and 
+antiquities,  reporteth  this  matter  thus.  As  for  the  number 
+of  the  shippes  of  the  barbarous  navie :  -^schylus  the  poet, 
+in  a  tragedie  which  he  intituled  the  Persians,  knowing  cer- 
+tainely  the  trothe,  sayeth  thus  : 
+
+King  Xerxes  had,  a  thousand  shippes  1  knowe, 
+amongest  the  which,  two  hundred  were  (I  trowe) 
+and  seven  :  which  all  the  rest  dyd  oversayle 
+
+with  swifter  course.     This  is  withouten  fayle. 
+
+The  Athenians  had  nine  score,  in  every  one  of  the  which 
+there  were  eightene  souldiers,  whereof  foure  of  them  were 
+archers,  and  all  the  rest  armed  men.  Themistocles  also  did 
+with  no  lesse  skill  and  wisedom  choose  his  time  and  place  to 
+fight,  forbearing  to  charge  his  enemies,  untill  the  hower  was 
+come,  that  of  ordinarie  custome  the  sea  winde  arose,  and 
+
+298 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+brought  in  a  rough  tyde  within  the  channell,  which  dyd  not  THEMIS- 
+hurt  the  Graecian  gallyes,  being  made  lowe  and  snugge,  but  TOCLES 
+greatly  offended  the  Persian  gallyes,  being  highe  cargged, 
+heavie,  and  not  yare  of  steredge,  and  made  them  lye  side- 
+long to  the  Greecians,  who  fiercely  set  upon  them  having 
+allwayes  an  eye  to  Themistocles  direction,  that  best  foresawe 
+their  advantage.  At  the  same  time,  Ariamenes,  Xerxes  Ariameues 
+admirall,  a  man  of  great  valure  and  worthiest  of  the  Kings  Xerxes 
+brethern,  bestowed  arrowes  and  dartes  as  it  were  from  the  ^"'"i'"^^^- 
+walles  of  a  castell,  charging  the  gallye  of  Aminias  Decelian, 
+and  Sosicles  Pedian,  which  were  joyned  and  grappled  with 
+him,  and  fiercely  entring  the  same,  was  by  them  valliantly 
+receyved  upon  their  pikes,  and  thrust  over  borde  into  the 
+sea.  Whose  bodie  floting  amongest  other  shippewracks 
+Artemisia  knowing,  caused  to  be  caried  to  king  Xerxes. 
+Nowe  whilest  this  battell  stoode  in  these  termes,  they  saye 
+that  there  appeared  a  great  flame  in  the  element,  toward  the 
+cittie  of  Eleusin,  and  that  a  lowde  voyce  was  heard  through 
+all  the  plaine  of  Thriasia  unto  the  sea,  as  if  there  had  bene  a 
+number  of  men  together,  that  had  songe  out  alowde,  the  holy 
+songe  of  lacchus.  And  it  seemed  by  litle  and  litle,  that 
+there  rose  a  clowde  in  the  ayer  from  those  which  sange :  that 
+left  the  land,  and  came  and  lighted  on  the  gallyes  in  the 
+sea.  Other  affirmed,  that  they  sawe  armed  men,  which  did 
+reache  out  their  hands  from  the  He  of  ^Egina,  towards  the 
+Greecian  gallyes  :  and  they  thought  they  were  the  .^acides, 
+for  whose  helpe  they  all  prayed  before  the  battell  was 
+begonne.  The  first  man  of  the  Athenians  that  tooke  any  of 
+the  enemies  shippes,  was  Lycomedes,  a  captaine  of  a  gallye : 
+who  having  taken  very  rich  furniture  and  flagges,  did  after- 
+wards consecrate  them  to  Apollo  laurell :  as  ye  would  saye, 
+victorious.  The  other  Greecians  in  the  fronte  being  equall 
+in  number  with  the  barbarous  shipps,  by  reason  of  the 
+straightnes  of  the  arme  of  the  sea  wherein  they  fought,  and 
+so  straightned  as  they  could  not  fight  but  by  one  and  one, 
+where  by  the  Barbarians  disorderly  layed  one  another 
+abourde,  that  they  did  hinder  them  selves  with  their  over 
+multitude :  and  in  the  end  were  so  sore  pressed  upon  by  the 
+Greecians,  that  they  were  constrayned  to  flye  by  night,  after 
+
+299 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+THEMIS-     they  had  fought  and  mainteined  battell,  until  it  was  very 
+TOCLES      darke.     So  the  Graecians  wanne  that  glorious  and  famous 
+
+The  Grecians   victorie :    of  the    which   maye   truly   be   affirmed   that,   as 
+
+victorieof  the  Simonides  sayeth  : 
+
+Persians  navy 
+
+°y  ^®®'  Was  never  yet,  nor  Greeke  nor  Barbarous  crew 
+
+that  could  by  sea,  so  many  men  subdew  : 
+Nor  that  obteind,  so  famous  victorie 
+in  any  fight,  against  their  enemie. 
+
+Thus  was  the  victorie  wonne  through  the  valliantnes  and 
+
+corage   of  those   that  fought  that  battell,  but  especially 
+
+through   Themistocles   great  policie   and  wisdome.     After 
+
+this  battell  Xerxes  being  mad  for  his  losse,  thought  to  fill 
+
+up  the  arme  of  the  sea,  and  to  passe  his  armie  by  lande, 
+
+upon  a  bridge,  into  the  He  of  Salamina.      Themistocles, 
+
+bicause  he  would  feele  Aristides  opinion,  tolde  him  as  they 
+
+were  talking  together,  that  he  thought  best  to  goe  and 
+
+occupie  the  straight  of  Hellespont  with  the  armie  by  sea,  to 
+
+•  breake  the  bridge  of  shippes  which  Xerxes  had  caused  to  be 
+
+made :  to  the  ende,  said  he,  that  we  maye  take  Asia  into 
+
+Europe.    Aristides  liked  not  this  opinion  :  for  we  have  (said 
+
+he)  fought  all  this  while  against  this  barbarous  King,  who 
+
+thought  but  to  playe  with  us :  But  if  we  shut  him  within 
+
+Greece,  and  bring  him  to  fight  of  necessitie  to  save  his  life : 
+
+such  an  enemy  that  commaundeth  so  great  an  armie,  will  no 
+
+more  stand  still  as  a  looker  on,  and  set  at  his  ease  under  his 
+
+golden  pavilion,  to  see  the  pastime  of  the  battell,  but  will 
+
+prove  everie  waye,  and  be  him  selfe  in  every  place  at  all 
+
+assayes  to  save  him  self  from  such  a  straight  and  daunger. 
+
+Thus  with   politicke   care  and   foresight,   he   maye   easely 
+
+amend  his  former  fault  committed  by  negligence,  and  doe 
+
+well  enough,  when  he  shall  see  his  life  and  Kingdome  both 
+
+Aristides  depend  upon  it.     Therefore  Themistocles,  I  would  thincke 
+
+counsell  unto  not  best  to  breake  his  bridge  at  all,  which  he  hath  caused  to 
+
+J^^tT^^b'    k'  ^^  made :  but  rather  if  we  could,  to  build  another  to  it,  to 
+
+inff  of  Xerxes   drive  him  out  of  Europe  as  sone  as  we  could.     Themistocles 
+
+bridge.  then  replied  :  Seeing  you  thincke  this  were  good  to  be  done, 
+
+we  must  all  laye  our  heades  together,  to  devise,  how  he  maye 
+
+be  forced  to  come  out  assone  as  we  could.    They  breaking  of 
+
+300 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+with  this  resolution,  Themistocles  sent  immediately  one  of  THEMIS- 
+the  Kings  eunuches,  called  Arsaces,  that  was  one  of  the  TOCLES 
+gromes  of  his  chamber,  whom  he  found  out  amongest  the  Themistocles 
+prisoners,  and  by  him  he  sent  this  message  unto  the  King,  stratageame. 
+That  the  Greecians  having  wonne  the  battell  of  him  by  sea, 
+had  decreed  in  their  counsell,  how  they  would  goe  to  the 
+straight  of  Hellespont,  to  breake  the  bridge  of  shippes  he 
+had  caused  to  be  made  there.  Whereof  he  thought  good 
+to  advertise  him,  for  the  goodwil  he  did  beare  him,  and  to 
+the  ende  he  might  bethincke  him  betimes,  to  get  him  away 
+to  the  sea  within  his  own  dominion,  and  so  passe  backe  againe 
+into  Asia  as  sone  as  he  could,  whilest  he  gave  order  to  his 
+allies  and  confederates,  to  staye  follo^ving  him  at  the  poope. 
+The  barbarous  King  understanding  these  newes,  was  so 
+afFrayed,  that  he  hoysed  away  with  all  possible  speede.  The 
+further  foresight  and  great  wisdome  of  Themistocles,  and 
+Aristides,  in  marine  causes,  dyd  manifestly  appeare  after- 
+wards in  the  battell  the  Greecians  fought  before  the  cittie  of 
+Platea,  against  Mardonius,  king  Xerxes  lieutenante :  who 
+having  but  a  smal  power  of  the  King  his  soveraines  there, 
+dyd  yet  put  the  Greecians  to  great  distresse,  and  in  hazard 
+to  have  lost  all.  Of  all  the  townes  and  citties  that  fought 
+in  this  battell,  Herodotus  writeth,  that  the  cittie  of  ^Egina 
+wanne  the  fame  for  valliantnes  above  the  rest :  and  of  private 
+men,  among  the  Grecians,  Themistocles  was  judged  the 
+worthiest  man :  althoucrh  it  was  sore  ajjainst  their  willes, 
+bicause  they  envied  much  his  glory.  For  after  the  battell 
+done,  all  the  captaines  being  gotten  into  the  straight  of 
+Peloponnesus,  and  having  sworne  upon  the  altar  of  their 
+sacrifices,  that  they  would  geve  their  voyces  after  their 
+consciences,  to  those  they  thought  had  best  deserved  it : 
+every  one  gave  him  selfe  the  first  place  for  worthines,  and 
+the  seconde  unto  Themistocles.  The  Lacedaemonians  caried  Themistocles 
+him  into  Sparta,  where  they  judged  the  honour  and  dignitie  honored 
+to  their  admiral!  Eurybiades  :  but  the  wisedome  and  pollicie  ^^^'^  ^"  *^c 
+they  attributed  to  Themistocles.  In  token  thereof  they  gave 
+him  an  olive  braunche,  and  the  goodliest  coche  that  was  in 
+their  cittie  :  and  moreover  they  sent  three  hundred  of  their 
+lusty  youthes  to  accompany  him,  and  couducte  him  out  of 
+
+301 
+
+
+THEMIS- 
+TOCLES 
+
+
+Themistocles 
+
+ambition 
+
+noted. 
+
+
+Themistocles 
+sayings. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+their  countrie.  They  saye,  at  the  next  feastes  and  assembly 
+of  the  playes  Olympicall  that  were  made  after  this  victorie : 
+when  Themistocles  was  once  come  into  the  showe  place  where 
+these  games  were  played,  the  people  looked  no  more  on  them 
+that  fought,  but  all  cast  their  eyes  on  him,  shewing  him  to 
+the  straungers  which  knewe  him  not,  with  their  fingers,  and 
+by  clapping  of  their  handes  dyd  witnesse  howe  much  they 
+esteemed  him.  Whereat  he  him  selfe  tooke  so  great  delite, 
+that  he  confessed  to  his  familiar  friends,  he  then  dyd  reape 
+the  fruite  and  benefit  of  his  sundry  and  painefull  services 
+he  had  taken  in  hande,  for  the  preservation  of  Greece :  so 
+ambitious  was  he  of  nature,  and  covetous  of  honour,  as  we 
+maye  easely  perceyve  by  certen  of  his  dedes  and  notable 
+sayings  they  have  noted  of  him.  For  being  chosen  admirall 
+of  Athens  he  never  dispatched  any  causes  private  or  publicke, 
+howsoever  they  fell  out,  untill  the  very  daye  of  his  departure, 
+and  taking  shippe :  and  all  bicause  that  men  seeing  him  ryd 
+much  busines  at  once,  and  to  speake  with  so  many  persones 
+together,  they  should  esteeme  him  to  be  the  notabler  man, 
+and  of  the  greater  authoritie.  Another  time  he  walked  upon 
+the  sandes  by  the  sea  side,  beholdmg  the  dead  bodies  of  the 
+barbarous  people,  which  the  sea  had  cast  up  upon  the  shore : 
+and  seing  some  of  them  that  had  on  still  their  chaynes  of 
+golde,  and  bracelets,  he  passed  by  on  his  waye,  but  shewed 
+them  yet  to  his  familiar  friende  that  followed  him,  and 
+sayed  unto  him :  Take  thou  those,  for  thou  art  not  Themis- 
+tocles. And  unto  one  Antiphates,  who  in  his  youth  had 
+bene  a  goodly  young  boye,  and  at  that  time  dyd  scornefully 
+behave  him  selfe  unto  him,  making  no  reckoning  of  him : 
+and  now  that  he  sawe  him  in  authoritie  came  to  see  him,  he 
+sayed  :  O  my  young  sonne,  and  friend  :  we  are  both  even  at 
+one  time  (but  to  late)  growen  wise.  He  sayed  the  Athenians 
+dyd  not  esteeme  of  him  in  time  of  peace :  but  when  any 
+storme  of  warres  were  towardes,  and  they  stoode  in  any 
+daunger,  they  ranne  to  him  then,  as  they  ronne  to  the 
+shadowe  of  a  plane  tree,  upon  any  sodaine  raine  :  and  after 
+fayer  weather  come  againe,  they  cut  awaye  then  the  braunches, 
+and  bowghes  thereof.  There  was  a  man  borne  in  the  He  of 
+Seripha,  who  being  fallen  out  with  him,  dyd  cast  him  in  the 
+302 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+teethe,  that  it  was  not  for  his  worthines,  but  for  the  noble     THEMIS- 
+cittie  wherein  he  was  borne,  that  he  had  wonne  such  glorie.      TOCLES 
+Thou  saycst  true  sayed  he :  but  neither  should  I  ever  have 
+wonne  any  great  honour,  if  I  had  bene  a  Seriphian,  nor  thou 
+also  if  thou  haddest  bene  an  Athenian.     An  other  time  one 
+of  the  captaines  of  the  cittie,  having  done  good  service  unto 
+the  common   weale,  made  boast  before  Themistocles,  and 
+compared   his   service   equall    with    his.      Themistocles    to 
+aunswer  him,  tolde  him  a  prety  tale.     That  the  working  A  prety  tale 
+daye  brawled  on  a  time  with  the  holy  daye,  repining  against  of  Themis- 
+her,  that  he  laboured  for  his  living  continually,  and  howe  *o^^^^- 
+she  dyd  nothing  but  fill  her  bellie,  and  spende  that  they  had 
+gotten.     Thou  hast  reason  sayed  the  holy  daye.     But  if  I 
+had  not  bene  before  thee,  thou  haddest  not  bene  here  nowe. 
+And  so,  if  I  had  not  bene  then  :  where  had  you  my  masters 
+bene  nowe  ?     His  owne  sonne  was  a  litle  to  sawsie  with  his 
+mother,  and  with  him  also,  bearing  him  self  over  boldely  of 
+her  good  will,  by  meanes  of  her  cockering  of  him.     Where- 
+upon being  merely  disposed,  he  would  saye  that  his  sonne 
+could  doe  more  then  any  man  in  all  Greece.    For,  sayeth  he,  Themistocles 
+the  Athenians  commaunde  the  Graecians,  I  commaunde  the  saying  of  his 
+Athenians,  my  wife  commaundeth  me,  and  my  sonne  com-  s**"^"^- 
+maundeth  her.     Moreover  bicause  he  would  be  singular  by 
+him  selfe  above  all  other  men :  having  a  pece  of  lande  he 
+would  sell,  he  willed  the  crier  to  proclaime  open  sale  of  it  in 
+the  market  place,  aad  with  all  he  should  adde  unto  the  sale, 
+that  his  lande  laye  by  a  good  neighbour.     An  other  time, 
+two  men   being   suters   to  his  daughter,   he  preferred  the 
+honester  before  the  richer,  saying :  he  had  rather  have  to  his 
+sonne  in  lawe  a  man  that  lacked  ffoodes,  then  goodes  to 
+lacke  a  man.     Ihese  were  Themistocles  pleasaunt  conceites 
+and  aunswers.     But  after  he  had  done  all  these  things  we 
+have  spoken  of  before,  he  tooke  in  hande  to  buylde  againe 
+the  cittie  and  walles  of  Athens,  and  dyd  corrupt  the  officers  Themistocles 
+of  Lacedaemonia  with  money,  to  the  end  they  should  not  buylt  a^g^aine 
+hinder  his  purpose,   as   Theopompus   writeth.       Or   as   all  J{jg  cittlrof 
+other  saye  when  he  had  deceyved  them  by  this  subtiltie,  he  Athens, 
+went  unto  Sparta  as  ambassadour,  sent  thither  of  purpose 
+upon  the  complaintes  of  the  Lacedaemonians,  for  that  the 
+
+303 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+
+THEMIS- 
+TOCLES 
+
+
+A  subtle 
+fetche  of 
+Themistocles. 
+
+
+The  haven 
+of  Piraea 
+fortified. 
+
+
+Athenians  dyd  inclose  their  cittie  againe  with  walles,  who 
+were  accused  unto  the  counsaill  of  Sparta,  by  an  orator 
+called  Poliarchus,  who  was  sent  thither  from  the  ^ginetes, 
+of  purpose  to  prosecute  this  matter  against  the  Athenians. 
+Themistocles  stowtely  denied  it  to  them,  and  prayed  them 
+for  better  understanding  of  the  trothe,  they  would  sende 
+some  of  their  men  thither  to  see  it.  This  was  but  a  fetche 
+only  to  winne  by  this  delaye,  the  Athenians  so  muche  more 
+time  to  rayse  up  their  walles,  and  that  the  Athenians  should 
+keepe  as  ostages  for  suertie  of  his  persone,  those  they  should 
+send  to  Athens,  to  bring  backe  the  reporte  thereof :  and  so 
+it  fell  out.  For  the  Lacedaemonians  being  informed  of  the 
+trothe  as  it  was,  dyd  him  no  hurte,  but  dissembling  the  mis- 
+liking  they  had  to  be  thus  abused  by  him,  sent  him  awaye 
+safe  and  sounde,  Afterwardes  he  made  them  also  mende 
+and  fortifie  the  haven  of  Piraea,  having  considered  the 
+situation  of  the  place,  and  all  to  incline  the  cittie  to  the  sea. 
+Wherein  he  dyd  directly  contrary  to  all  the  counsell  of  the 
+auncient  kings  of  Athens :  who  seeking  (as  they  saye)  to 
+withdrawe  their  people  from  the  sea,  and  to  accustome  them 
+to  live  upon  the  lande,  by  planting,  sowing,  and  plowing 
+their  groundes,  dyd  devise  and  geve  out  abroade,  the  fable 
+they  tell  of  the  goddesse  Pallas.  And  that  is  this,  how  she 
+contending  with  Neptune  about  the  patronage  of  the  country 
+of  Athens,  brought  forth  and  shewed  to  the  judges  the  olyve 
+tree,  by  meanes  whereof  she  prevayled,  and  obteined  the  pre- 
+heminence.  Even  so  Themistocles  dyd  not  joyne  the  haven 
+of  Piraea,  unto  the  cittie  of  Athens,  as  the  comicall  poet 
+Aristophanes  sayeth :  but  rather  joyned  the  cittie  unto  the 
+haven  Piraea,  and  the  lande  unto  the  sea.  By  this  meanes 
+he  made  the  people  strong  against  the  nobilitie,  and  brought 
+the  communaltie  to  waxe  bolder  then  they  were  before,  by 
+reason  the  rule  and  authoritie  fell  into  the  handes  of  saylers, 
+mariners,  pilottes,  shippemasters,  and  such  kinde  of  seafaring 
+men  :  so  as  the  pulpet  where  all  the  oracles  were  made,  stoode 
+in  the  market  place  of  Pnyx,  and  dyd  looke  towardes  the 
+sea.  But  the  thirtie  tyrannes  that  came  in  afterwardes,  dyd 
+remove  it,  and  turne  it  towardes  the  lande  :  holding  opinion 
+to  be  strong  by  sea,  was  it  that  dyd  mainteine  the  authoritie 
+304 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+of  the  popular  state.  And  that  contrariwise  they  which  live  THEMIS- 
+by  the  labour  and  toyle  of  the  earthe,  doe  more  willingly  TOCLES 
+like  the  government  of  Nobilitie.  Themistocles  called  to 
+minde  another  matter  also  of  greater  importance,  to  make 
+the  cittie  of  Athens  of  a  greater  power  by  sea.  For  after 
+the  retire  of  Xerxes,  and  that  all  the  fleete  and  navie  of  the 
+Graecians  wintered  in  the  haven  of  Pagases :  he  sayed  one 
+daye  in  an  open  assembly  of  the  people,  that  he  had  thought 
+of  a  thing  which  would  be  very  profitable  and  beneficiall  for 
+them,  but  it  was  not  to  be  tolde  openly.  The  people  willed 
+him  then  to  imparte  it  to  Aristides :  and  if  he  thought  it 
+good,  they  would  execute  it  speedely.  Themistocles  then 
+tolde  Aristides :  the  thing  he  had  considered  of,  was  to  burne 
+the  Arcenal  where  the  Graecians  navy  laye,  and  to  set  on 
+fire  all  their  shippes.  Aristides  hearing  his  purpose,  returned 
+to  the  people,  and  tolde  them  :  howe  nothing  could  be 
+more  profitable,  but  with  all  more  unjust,  then  that  which 
+Themistocles  had  devised.  The  Athenians  then  willed  Aris-  The  equitie 
+tides  it  should  be  let  alone  altogether.  Furthermore  when  of  the  Athe- 
+the  Lacedaemonians  had  exhibited  their  petition  to  the  °^^°^* 
+counsell  of  the  Amphictyons  (that  is  the  generall  counsaill 
+of  all  the  states  of  Graece  assembled)  howe  the  townes  and 
+citties  of  Graece  which  had  not  bene  parties  with  the 
+Graecians  to  the  league,  against  the  barbarous  people,  should 
+be  put  of  wholy  from  this  counsaill.  Themistocles  dowting 
+of  the  Argives,  the  Thessalians,  and  the  Thebans  also  should 
+by  this  meanes  be  exempted,  that  the  Lacedaemonians  would 
+be  then  the  greater  number  in  voyces,  and  by  this  meanes 
+might  doe  what  they  would  in  this  counsell :  he  spake  so 
+consideratly  for  the  citties  which  they  would  have  thus  dis- 
+charged, that  he  made  the  petitioners  in  the  assembly  utterly 
+to  chaunge  their  opinion.  Declaring,  howe  there  were  but 
+one  and  thirtie  citties  comprised  only  the  league,  and  yet 
+that  some  of  them  were  very  weake  and  small :  and  howe  it 
+were  no  reason,  that  rejecting  all  the  rest  of  Grece,  the 
+greatest  authoritie  of  this  counsaill  should  fall  into  the 
+handes  of  two  or  three  of  the  chiefest  citties  alone.  For 
+this  cause  chiefly  the  Lacedaemonians  dyd  ever  beare  him 
+extreme  hatred,  and  dyd  set  up  Cimon  all  they  could,  to  be 
+2Q  305 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+THEMIS-     allwayes   adversary  opposite  unto  him,  and  as  it  were  to 
+TOCLES      bearde  him  in  all  matters  of  state,  and  the  government  of 
+Athens.     They  procured  him  besides,  the  ill  will  and  dis- 
+pleasure of  all  the  friendes  and  confederates  of  the  Athenians, 
+for  that  he  went  sayling  still  to  and  fro  alongest  the  lies, 
+exacting  money  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  same.     And  this 
+is  to  be  knowen  by  the  matter  propounded  by  him  to  the 
+Andrians  (of  whom  he  would  have  had  money)  and  by  the 
+aunswer   they  made   him,  as    Herodotus  writeth.      Which 
+Themistocles    was,  howe  he  had  brought  them  two  mightie  goddes  :  Love, 
+goddes.  Love    and  Force.     And  they  aunswered  him  againe,  that  they  also 
+and  Force.        ]^a,d  two  great  goddesses,  which  kept  them  from  geving  of 
+The  Andrians  him   any    money :    Povertie,   and    Impossibilitie.      And   to 
+goddesses,        make  this  good  also  :  Timocreon  the  Rhodian  poet  galled  him 
+Povertie,  ^q  ^j^g  quicke,  when  he  sharpely  taunted  him,  for  calling 
+
+mpossi  1 1 16.  j^g^jjy  j^oj^g  againe  for  money  that  were  banished :  and  howe 
+for  covetousnes  of  money  he  had  betrayed,  and  forsaken,  his 
+hoste  and  friende.  The  verses  wherein  this  matter  is  men- 
+tioned, are  to  this  effecte  : 
+
+Who  list  commend  worthy  Pausanias, 
+Xanthippus  or  good  Leotychides, 
+yet  shall  I  seeme  but  light  thereof  to  passe, 
+compared  with  valliant  Aristides. 
+
+For  yet  was  naye,  the  like  in  Athens  towne, 
+nor  never  shall  come  none  of  like  renowne. 
+
+Themistocles  by  right  and  due  deserte, 
+is  hated  of  Latona,  for  his  lyes, 
+and  for  he  bare  a  traitrous  wicked  harte, 
+who  like  a  wretche,  and  nigard  did  devise, 
+for  small  rewardes,  his  host  Timocreon 
+to  holde,  out  of  his  countrie  lalison. 
+
+He  tooke  for  bribe  (unjustly  yet  therewhile) 
+of  redy  coyne  three  talents  fayre  and  bright, 
+revoking  such  as  pleased  him,  from  exile 
+and  banishing  full  many  a  worthy  wight. 
+
+Or  putting  them  to  death,  without  cause  tolde, 
+he  gate  thereby,  great  heapes  of  coyne  and  golde. 
+
+But  in  the  ende  (O  right  reward  for  such) 
+this  bribing  wretch,  was  forced  for  to  holde, 
+a  tipling  bowthe,  most  like  a  clowne  or  snuche, 
+at  holy  feastes  and  pastimes  manifold, 
+which  were  amongest  the  people  in  those  dayes 
+Istmiciane  folke,  dyd  use  the  like  allwayes. 
+306 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+And  there  he  served,  his  gests  with  cold  meat  still,  THEMIS- 
+
+whilest  they  that  tasted  of  his  cookerie,  TOCLES 
+
+gan  wishe  that  they  (to  ease  their  weary  will) 
+had  never  lived  to  see  the  treccherie, 
+of  false  Themistocles,  and  that  he  might 
+no  longer  live,  which  wrought  them  such  despight. 
+
+After  this,  he  dyd  more  openly  blase  him  to  the  worlde, 
+when  he  was  banished  and  condemned  :  in  a  songe  that  had 
+beginning  thus : 
+
+O  Muse,  let  these  my  verses  be  disperst, 
+throughout  all  Graece,  since  they  deserve  no  lesse  : 
+and  since  the  truthe  which  is  in  them  rehearst, 
+deserveth  fame,  whom  no  man  should  suppresse. 
+
+They  saye  the  cause  was,  why  this  Timocreon  was  banished  : 
+the  friendshippe  which  he  had  with  the  Barbarous  people,  and 
+for  geving  them  intelligence.  Whereof  Themistocles  was  one 
+that  judicially  condemned  him.  Wherefore  when  Themis- 
+tocles him  selfe  was  accused  afterwards  of  the  same  faulte, 
+Timocreon  then  made  these  verses  following  against  him  : 
+
+Timocreon  was  not  without  his  pheere, 
+
+which  did  conferre  with  Medes  prively. 
+Since  others  mo,  the  selfe  same  blame  might  beare, 
+
+mo  foxes  lurke  in  dennes  as  well  as  I. 
+
+Besides  these  verses,  Themistocles  owne  cittizens  for  the 
+ill  will  they  bare  him,  were  contented  to  heare  him  ill  spoken 
+of.  Therefore  while  he  sought  wayes,  to  redresse  all  this : 
+he  was  driven  to  use  such  meane,  which  more  increased  their 
+hatred  toward  him.  For  in  his  orations  to  the  people,  he 
+dyd  ofte  remember  them  of  the  good  service  he  had  done 
+them :  and  perceyving  howe  they  were  offended  withall,  he 
+was  driven  to  saye :  Why,  are  ye  weary  so  ofte  to  receyve 
+good  by  one  man  ?  Many  of  them  were  very  angry  with 
+him  also,  when  he  surnamed  Diana  (in  the  dedication  of 
+her  temple  he  made  unto  her)  Aristobule,  as  much  to  saye, 
+as  the  good  counseller :  meaning  thereby,  howe  he  had 
+geven  grave  and  wise  counsell,  both  unto  his  cittie,  and  to 
+all  the  rest  of  the  Grecians.  He  built  this  temple  also 
+neere  his  house,  in  a  place  called  Melita,  where  the  hange- 
+men  doe  cast  the  dead  bodies  of  those  that  were  executed, 
+
+307 
+
+
+THEMIS. 
+TOCLES 
+
+
+Themistocles 
+banished  for 
+five  yere. 
+
+
+Pausanias 
+revealeth  his 
+treason  unto 
+Themistocles. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+and  throwe  the  ragges  and  halters  endes  of  those  that  were 
+hanged,  or  otherwise  put  to  death  by  lawe.  There  was  also 
+in  our  dayes  in  the  temple  of  Diana  Aristobule,  a  litle  image 
+of  Themistocles,  which  shewed  plainely,  that  he  was  not  only 
+wise,  and  of  a  noble  minde,  but  also  of  a  great  majestie  and 
+countenaunce  in  face.  In  the  ende,  the  Athenians  banished 
+him  Athens  for  five  yeres,  bicause  they  would  plucke  downe 
+his  overgreat  corage  and  authoritie,  as  they  dyd  use  to  serve 
+those,  whose  greatnes  they  thought  to  be  more,  then  common 
+equalitie  that  ought  to  be  among  cittizens  would  beare. 
+For  this  manner  of  banishment  for  a  time,  called  Ostra- 
+cismo?i,  was  no  punishment  for  any  faulte  committed,  but  a 
+mitigation  and  taking  away  of  the  envie  of  the  people,  which 
+delited  to  plucke  downe  their  stomaks  that  to  much  seemed  to 
+exceede  in  greatnes  :  and  by  this  meanes  they  tooke  awaye  the 
+poyson  of  his  malice,  with  diminishing  his  glorie  and  honour. 
+So  Themistocles  being  banished  Athens,  went  to  dwell  in 
+Argos.  In  this  meane  season,  Pausanias  trecchery  fell  out, 
+which  gave  his  enemies  occasion  to  lye  heavie  on  his  backe. 
+But  he  which  became  his  accuser,  and  was  partener  of  the 
+treason,  was  one  called  Leobotes  (Alcmeons  sonne)  borne  in 
+a  village  called  Agraula.  Besides  this,  the  Spartans  also 
+dyd  sit  on  his  skirtes,  and  charged  him  sorely.  For  Pau- 
+sanias never  before  revealed  to  Themistocles  the  treason  he 
+had  purposed,  although  he  was  his  very  familliar  friende. 
+But  after  he  sawe  Themistocles  was  banished,  and  dyd  take 
+his  exile  very  unpaciently  :  then  Pausanias  was  bolde  to  open 
+his  treason  to  him,  to  procure  him  to  take  his  parte,  and 
+shewed  him  the  letters  the  king  of  Persia  had  written  to 
+him,  and  all  to  sturre  him  up  against  the  Graecians,  as 
+against  ungratefuU  and  unnaturall  people.  Howbeit  The- 
+mistocles shooke  him  of,  and  tolde  him  plainely  he*  would 
+be  no  partener  of  his  treason.  Notwithstanding,  he  never 
+revealed  it  to  any  living  creature,  nor  discovered  the  prac- 
+tise he  intended  :  hoping  either  he  would  have  geven  it  over, 
+or  that  shortely  it  would  appeare  by  some  other  meane, 
+considering  he  so  fondly  aspired  to  things  of  great  daunger, 
+and  without  purpose  or  possibilitie.  After  Pausanias  was 
+condemned,  and  had  suffered  paynes  of  death  for  the  same  : 
+308 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+they  found  amongest  his  papers,  certaine  writings  and  letters,     THEMIS- 
+which  made  Themistocles  to  be  very  sore  suspected.    Where-      TOCLES 
+upon  the  Lacedaemonians  on  the  one  side  cried  out  of  him :  and  Themistocles 
+his  enemies  and  ill  willers  at  Athens  accused  him  on  th'  other  suspected  of 
+side.     To  the  which  he  made  aunswer  by  letters  from  the   '^®*^°'^- 
+beginning,  and  wrote  unto  the  people,  it  was  not  likely  that 
+he  (who  sought  all  the  wayes  to  rule,  and  was  not  borne  to 
+serve,   neither    had    any   minde   thereto)   would  ever  have 
+thought  in  his  heade,  to  sell  his   owne  libertie,  and  the 
+Graecians   also  unto  the  Barbarous   people  their   enemies. 
+Notwithstanding  this  purgation  of  his,  the  people  by  the 
+procurement  of  his  enemies,  sent  to  apprehende  him,  and  to 
+bring  him  before  the  states  of  all  Graece,  to  be  judged  by 
+that  counsaill.     Whereof  Themistocles  having  intelligence 
+in  time,  he  dyd  convey  him  selfe  into  the  He  of  Corphu,  Themistocles 
+bicause  the  citie  there  was  greatly  beholding  to  him,  for  a  ^^^  ^^^^  ^'^^ 
+certen  pleasure  in  time  paste  he  had  done  them.     For  they     ^^     ^^^ 
+being  at  sute  and  strife  with  the  Corinthians,  he  tooke  up  the 
+matter  betweene  them,  and  gave  judgement  on  their  side, 
+and  condemned  the  Corinthians  to  paye  them  twenty  talents 
+damages :  and   did  set  downe  an  order,  that  they  should 
+occupie  the  He  of  Leucade  in  common  together,  as  ground 
+that  had  bene  inhabited  with  the  people,  aswell  of  the  one 
+cittie,  as  of  the  other.     From    thence  he  fled  to  Epirus, 
+whether  being  followed  by  the  Athenians,  and  the  Lacedae- 
+monians, he  was  compelled  to  venter  him  selfe  upon  a  doubt- 
+full  and  very  daungerous  hope.     For  he  went  to  yelde  him 
+selfe  into  the  hands  of  Admetus,  king  of  the  Molossians. 
+Who    having   heretofore   made   certen    requestes   unto  the 
+Athenians,  and  being  shamefully  denied  them  by  meanes 
+of  Themistocles  (who  then  was  at  his  chiefest  height  and 
+authoritie)  the  King  was  marvelously  offended  with  him : 
+and  it  was  a  clere  case  in  deede,  that  if  he  could  then  have 
+layed  handes  on  him,  he  would  have  bene  revenged  of  him 
+throughly.       Howbeit   feeling   the   present   miserie   of  his 
+exile,  he  thought  he  might  lesse  feare  the  Kings  olde  quar-  '^®  manner 
+
+rell  and  displeasure,  then  the  freshe  hate  and  envie  of  his  ?•  f^^ii  ^^^' 
+
+__-,     '  1  •  A   1  tion  among 
+
+contriemen.       Whereupon    he   went    unto    kmg   Admetus,  the  Molos- 
+
+trusting  to  his  mercie,  and  became  an  humble  suter  to  him  siaus. 
+
+309 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+THEMIS-     in  a  straunge  extraordinarie  sorte.     For  he  tooke  the  Kings 
+TOCLES      litle  young  sonne  in  his  armes,  and  went  and  kneeled  downe 
+before  the  altar  in  his  chappell :  which  humble  manner  of 
+suinge  the  Molossians  take  to  be  most  effectuall,  and  such 
+as  they  dare  not  denie,  nor  refuse.     Some  saye  that  Queene 
+Phthia  her  selfe,  the  Kings  wife,  dy  d  enforme  him  of  this  their 
+country  custome  and  manner,  and  brought  her  litle  sonne 
+also  neere  unto  the  altar.     Other  write  also,  that  it  was 
+Admetus  him  selfe  that  taught  and  shewed  him  this  inforc- 
+ing  manner  of  petition,  only  for  a  cloke  to  excuse  him  selfe 
+to  those  that  should  come  to  demaunde  Themistocles  of  him  : 
+that  by  duetie  of  religion  he  was  so  straightly  bounde  and 
+restrained,  that  he  might  not  deliver  him  out  of  his  protec- 
+tion.    In  this  meane  time,  Epicrates  Acharnian  founde  the 
+meanes  secretly  to  convey  Themistocles  wife  and  children  out 
+of  Athens,  and  dyd  send  them  privelie  unto  him  :  whereupon 
+he  was  afterwards  accused,  and  put  to  death,  upon  Cimons 
+accusation  and  motion,  as  Stesimbrotus  writeth.     Who  not 
+remembring  those  matters  I  knowe  not  howe,  or  making  as 
+though  Themistocles  had  not  remembred  him  selfe,  doth  saye, 
+that  Themistocles  sayled   into   Sicile,  where  he  sought  to 
+mary  Hierons  daughter,  the  tyranne  of  Syracusa :  promising 
+him  if  he  would  let  him  have  her,  he  would  assure  him  to 
+conquer  all  Grece  for   him,  and  to  bring  them  under  his 
+obedience.     But   Hieron   refusing   this   offer,  Themistocles 
+went  from  thence  into  Asia :    but  that  is  not  likely.     For 
+Theophrastus  Avriteth  in  his  booke  intituled  of  Kingdomes, 
+that  Hieron  having  sent  certain  running  horses  to  the  feast 
+of  games  Olympicall,  and  having  set  up  a  marvelous  riche 
+and  sumptuous  tent  there  :  Themistocles  made   an  oration 
+to  the  Grecians,  declaring  unto  them  how  they  should  teare 
+the  tyrannes  tente  in  peces,  and  not  to  suffer  his  horses  to 
+ronne  with  other  swifte  and  light  horses,  and  to  cary  away 
+the  price  in  those  holy  games.    Thucydides  againe  declareth, 
+howe  he  went  unto  the  other  sea,  and  imbarked  in  the  cittie 
+of  Pydne,  being  knowen  of  never  a  man  in  the  shippe,  untill 
+such  time  as  the  winde  beganne  to  carie  them  into  the  He 
+of  Naxos,  which  the  Athenians  by  chaunce  dyd  besiege  at 
+that  time,  where  being  afeard  to  be  set  on  lande,  he  was 
+310 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+forced  to  bewraye  him  self  to  the  master  of  the  shippe,  and     THEMIS- 
+
+the    masters    mate,   and    wrought   them,   what   with   fayer      TOCLES 
+
+wordes  and  what  with  threates  (by  saying  he  would  accuse 
+
+them  to  the  Athenians,  that  they  dyd  not  ignorantly  receive 
+
+him  in,  but  hiered  for  money)  so  as  he  compelled  them  to 
+
+sayle  on  further,  and  to  cary  him  into  Asia.     As  for  his 
+
+goodes,  his  friendes  saved  the  most  parte  of  them,  and  sent 
+
+them  into  Asia  to  him.     But  for  those  that  came  to  light, 
+
+and  were  confiscate  unto  the  state  :    Theopompus  writeth, 
+
+they  dyd  amounte  to  the  value  of  one   hundred   talents. 
+
+And  Theophrastus  sayeth,  but  to  foure  score  talents  only. 
+
+So  that  all  his  goodes  was  not  worth  three  talents,  when  he 
+
+beganne  to  governe  the  state  of  the  common  weale.    When 
+
+he  came  unto  the  cittie  of  Cuma,  he  perceyved  that  all  the 
+
+coastes  by  sea  were  layed  for  him  to  apprehende  him,  and 
+
+that  he  had  many  spyalls  upon  him  :  among  the  which,  these 
+
+were  two  special!  noted  men,  Ergoteles,  and  one  Pythodorus, 
+
+the  reward  being  very  great,  for  men  that  sought  their  gayne 
+
+any  waye  they  could.    For  the  king  of  Persia  had  proclaymed 
+
+by  sound   of  trumpet,  two  hundred   talents   to    him   that 
+
+brought  him  Themistocles.     Whereupon  he  fled  unto  a  litle 
+
+towne  of  ^olia,  called  -^ges,  where  no  living  bodie  knewe 
+
+him,  but  his  host  only,  called  Nicogenes  :  who  was  the  richest 
+
+man  of  all  the  iEolians,  and  knewe  all  the  noble  men  of 
+
+authoritie  that  were  about  the  king  of  Persia.    Themistocles 
+
+continued  hidden  certen  dayes  in  his  house  :  in  which  time, 
+
+on  a  night  after  the  feast  of  a  sacrifice,  one  Olbius,  schoole- 
+
+master  to  Nicogenes  children,  by  some  secret  working  of 
+
+the  goddes,  sodainely  fell  besides  him  selfe,  and  beganne  to 
+
+singe  these  verses  out  alowde  : 
+
+Doe  thou  beleeve,  what  so  the  nig-ht  the  tells 
+
+and  geve  thy  voyce,  thy  counsell  and  conceipts 
+Unto  the  night,  in  darcksomnes  that  dwells, 
+
+thereon  also  thy  victorie  awaits. 
+
+The  next  night  following,  Themistocles  being  fast  asleepe  Themistocles 
+in  his  bed,  dreamed  that  a  snake  wounde  it  selfe  round  about  dreame. 
+his  bellie,  and  glided  upwardes  to  his  necke,  untill  it  touched 
+his  face,  and  sodainely  then  it  became  an  eagle,  and  imbraced 
+him  with  his  winges :  and  so  at  length  dyd  lift  him  up  into 
+
+311 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+
+THEMIS- 
+TOCLES 
+
+
+The  Persians 
+jealous  of 
+their  wives. 
+
+
+HoweThemis- 
+tocles  was 
+conveyed  to 
+the  king  of 
+Persias 
+courte. 
+
+
+the  ayer,  and  caried  him  a  marvelous  waye  of,  mitill  he 
+thought  he  sawe  a  golden  rodde  (suche  as  Herauldes  use 
+to  carie  in  their  handes)  whereupon  the  eagle  dyd  set  him, 
+and  so  was  delivered  of  all  this  feare  and  trouble  he  thought 
+him  selfe  in.  The  trothe  was,  Nicogenes  had  this  devise 
+in  his  heade,  howe  he  might  bring  him  safe  to  the  king  of 
+Persiaes  courte.  The  Barbarous  nations  for  the  most  parte 
+(and  specially  the  Persians)  are  of  a  very  straunge  nature, 
+and  marvelous  jealous  over  their  women,  and  that  not  onely 
+of  their  wives,  but  also  of  their  bonde  women,  and  con- 
+cubines :  which  they  keepe  so  straightly  locked  up,  that  no 
+man  ever  seeth  them  abroade  at  any  time,  but  are  allwayes 
+like  housedoves  kept  within  doores.  And  when  they  have 
+any  occasion  to  goe  into  the  country,  they  are  caried  in  close 
+coches  covered  all  about,  that  no  man  can  looke  into  them. 
+Themistocles  was  conveyed  into  one  of  these  coches  drest 
+after  this  manner,  and  had  warned  his  men  to  aunswer  those 
+they  met  by  the  waye,  that  asked  whom  they  caried :  howe 
+it  was  a  young  Grecian  gentlewoman  of  the  countrie  of 
+Ionia,  which  they  caried  to  the  courte  for  a  noble  man  there. 
+Thucydides,  and  Charon  Lampsacenian  saye,  he  went  thither 
+after  the  death  of  Xerxes,  and  spake  with  his  sonne  there. 
+But  Ephorus,  Dino,  Clitarchus,  Heraclides,  and  many  other 
+write,  that  he  spake  with  him  selfe.  Yet  notwithstanding 
+it  appeareth  that  Thucydides  wordes  doe  best  agree  Avith 
+the  chronicles  and  tables,  recording  the  succession  of  times, 
+although  they  be  of  no  great  certaintie.  Themistocles 
+being  come  nowe  to  the  swordes  pointe  (as  it  were)  and  to 
+the  extremitie  of  his  daunger:  dyd  first  present  him  selfe 
+unto  one  Artabanus,  Colonell  of  a  thousand  footemen,  and 
+sayed  unto  him :  Syr,  I  am  a  Grecian  borne,  and  desire  to 
+speake  with  the  King :  I  have  matters  of  importance  to  open 
+to  his  majestic,  and  such  as  I  knowe  he  will  thanckefully 
+receyve.  Artabanus  aunswered  him  in  this  manner :  My 
+friend  syr  straunger,  the  lawes  and  customes  of  men  are 
+divers,  and  some  take  one  thing  for  honest,  others  some 
+another  thing  :  but  it  is  most  honesty  for  all  men,  to  keepe 
+and  observe  the  lawes  and  manners  of  their  owne  countrie. 
+For  you  Grecians  have  the  name  to  love  libertie,  and  equalitie 
+312 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+above  all  things :  and  for  us,  amongest  all  the  goodly  lawes     THEMIS- 
+and  customes  we  have,  we  esteeme  this  above  the  rest :  to      TOCLES 
+reverence  and  honour  our  King,  as  the  image  of  the  god  of  The  Persians 
+nature,  who  keepeth  all  things  in  their  perfect  life  and  state,  honour  their 
+Wherefore,  if  thou  wilt  facion  thy  selfe  after  our  manner  to  .  ^^^^^r  Ju. 
+honour  the  King,  thou  mayest  both  see  him,  and  speake  with  g^^  of  nature, 
+him  :  but  if  thou  have  another  minde  with  thee,  then  must 
+thou  of  necessitie  use  some  thirde  persone  for  thy  meane. 
+For  this  is  the  manner  of  our  countrie :    the  King  never 
+geveth  audience  to  any  man,  that  hath  not  first  honoured 
+him.     Themistocles  hearing  what  he  sayed,  aunswered  him 
+againe  :  My  lord  Artabanus,  the  great  good  will  I  beare 
+unto  the  King,  and  the  desire  I  have  to  advaunce  his  glorie 
+and  power,  is  the  only  cause  of  my  present  repaire  unto  his 
+courte  :  therefore  I  meane  not  only  to  obey  your  lawes  (since 
+it  hath  so  pleased  the  goddes  to  rayse  up  the  noble  empire 
+of  Persia  unto  this  greatnes)  but  will  cause   many  other 
+people  also  to  honour  the  King,  more  then  there  doe  at  this 
+present.     Therefore  let  there  be  no  staye,  but  that  my  selfe 
+in  persone  maye  deliver  to  the  King  that  I  have  to  saye 
+unto  him.    Well,  sayed  Artabanus  :  whom  then  shall  we  saye 
+thou  arte  ?     For  by  thy  speache  it  seemeth,  thou  art  a  man 
+of  no  meane  state  and  condition.     Themistocles  aunswered 
+him  :  As  for  that  Artabanus,  none  shall  knowe  before  the 
+King  him  selfe.     Thus  doth  Phanias  reporte  it.     But  Era- 
+tosthenes, in  his  booke  he  wrote  of  riches,  addeth  further : 
+howe  Themistocles  had  accesse  unto  this  Artabanus,  being 
+recommended  to  the  King  by  a  woman  of  Eretria,  whom  the 
+King   kept.      Themistocles  being  brought  to  his  presence,  Themistocles 
+after  he  had  presented  his  humble  duety  and  reverence  to  t^lke  with  the 
+him,  stoode  on  his  feete,  and  sayed  never  a  worde,  untill  the  ^"^got  I'ersia. 
+King  commaunded  the  interpreter  to  aske  him  what  he  was  ? 
+and  he  aunswered :  Maye  it  please  your  majestie,  O  noble 
+King :  I  am  Themistocles  the  Athenian,  a  banished  man  out 
+of  my  country  by  the  Grecians,  who  humbly  repay reth  to 
+your  highnes,  knowing  I  have  done  great  hurt  to  the  Per- 
+sians, but  I  persuade  my  self  I  have  done  them  farre  more 
+good  then  harme.     For  I  it  was   that  kept  the   Grecians 
+backe  they  dyd  not  follow  you,  when  the  state  of  Grece  was 
+2R  313 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+THEMIS-  delivered  from  thraldome,  and  my  native  country  from 
+TOCLES  daunger,  and  that  I  knew  I  stoode  then  in  good  state  to 
+pleasure  you.  Nowe  for  me,  I  finde  all  mens  good  willes 
+agreable,  to  my  present  misery  and  calamitie :  for  I  come 
+determined,  most  humbly  to  thancke  your  highnes,  for  any 
+grace  and  favour  you  shall  shewe  me,  and  also  to  crave 
+humble  pardone,  if  your  majesty  be  yet  offended  with  me. 
+And  therfore  licence  me  (most  noble  King)  to  beseche  you, 
+that  taking  mine  enemies  the  Grecians  for  witnesses  of  the 
+pleasures  I  have  done  the  Persian  nation,  you  will  of  your 
+princely  grace  use  my  harde  fortune,  as  a  good  occasion  to 
+shewe  your  honorable  vertue,  rather  then  to  satisfie  the 
+passion  of  your  heate  and  choller.  For  in  saving  my  life, 
+your  majestic  saveth  an  humble  suter  that  put  him  selfe  to 
+your  mercie  :  and  in  putting  me  to  death,  you  shall  ryd 
+away  an  enemy  of  the  Grecians.  Having  spoken  thus  these 
+words,  he  sayed  further  :  That  the  goddes,  by  divers  signes 
+and  tokens  had  procured  him,  to  come  to  submit  him  selfe 
+unto  him,  and  tolde  the  King  what  vision  he  had  scene  in 
+his  dreame  in  Nicogenes  house :  and  declared  also  the  oracle  of 
+lupiter  Dodonian,  who  had  commaunded  him  that  he  should 
+goe  unto  him  that  was  called  as  a  god,  and  howe  he  thought 
+it  was  the  persone  of  his  majestic,  bicause  that  god  and  he 
+in  trothe  were  called  both  great  Kings.  The  King  having 
+thus  heard  him  speake,  gave  him  then  no  present  aunswer 
+againe,  notwithstanding  he  marvelously  wondred  at  his  great 
+wisedome  and  boldenes.  But  afterwardes  amongest  his 
+familliars  the  King  sayed,  he  thought  him  selfe  very  happy 
+to  mete  with  the  good  fortune  of  Themistocles  comming  to 
+him :  and  so  besought  his  great  god  Arimanius,  that  he 
+would  allwayes  send  his  enemies  such  mindes,  as  to  banishe 
+the  greatest,  and  wisest  men  amongest  them.  It  is  reported 
+also  he  did  sacrifice  unto  the  goddes,  to  geve  them  thankes 
+therefore,  and  disposed  him  selfe  presently  to  be  mery. 
+Insomuch  as  dreaming  in  the  night,  in  the  middest  of  his 
+dreame  he  cried  out  three  times  together  for  joye :  I  have 
+Themistocles  the  Athenian.  The  next  morning  the  King 
+having  sent  for  the  chiefest  lordes  of  his  courte,  he  made 
+Themistocles  also  to  be  brought  before  him :  who  looked 
+314 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+for  no  goodnes  at  all,  specially  when  he  sawe  the  souldiers     THEMIS- 
+warding  at  the  courte  gates,  geve  him  ill  countenaunce  and      TOCLES 
+language  both,  when  they  behelde  him,  and  understoode  his 
+name.     Moreover,  Roxanes,  one  of  the  captaines,  as  Themis- 
+tocles  passed  by  him  going  to  the  King  (who  was  set  in  his 
+chayer  of  state,  and  every  man  keeping  silence)  softely  sigh- 
+ing, sayed  unto  him :  O  thou  Greekishe  serpent,  subtill  and 
+malicious  :  the  Kings  good  fortune  hath  brought  thee  hether. 
+Nevertheles  when  he  came  to  the  King,  and  had  once  againe 
+made  him   a  very  humble  and  lowe  reverence :    the  King 
+saluted  him,  and  spake  very  curteously  to  him,  saying :  I  am 
+nowe  your  detter  of  two  hundred  talents,  for  presenting 
+your  self.     It  is  good  reason  I  should  deliver  you  the  money 
+promised  him  that  should  have  brought  you  :  but  I  geve 
+you  a  further  warrante,  be  bolde  I  charge  you,  and  speake 
+your  minde  freely,  saye  what  you  thinke  of  the  state  of 
+Grece.      Themistocles   then    aunswered   him  :    That   mens  An  excellent 
+wordes  did  properly  resemble  the  stories  and  imagery  in  a  comparison  of 
+pece  of  arras :   for  both  in  the  one  and  in  the  other,  the  Themistocles. 
+goodly  images  of  either  of  them  are  scene,  when  they  are 
+unfolded  and  layed  open.     Contrariwise  they  appeare  not, 
+but  are  lost,  when  they  are  shut  up,  and  close  folded  :  where- 
+upon he  sayed  to  the  King,  he  must  nedes  require  some 
+further  time  of  aunswer.     The  King  liked  his  comparison 
+passingly  well,  and  willed  him  to  appointe  his  owne  time. 
+Themistocles  asked  a  yere :    in  which  time  having  pretily 
+learned  the  Persian  tongue,  he  afterwards  spake  to  the  King 
+him  selfe  without  any  interpreter.     So,  suche  as  were  no 
+courtiers,  thought  he  only  talked  with  the  King  of  matters 
+of  |Grece.     But  bicause  the  chaunge  and  alteration  of  the 
+courte  fell  out  great  at  that  time,  the  noble  men  imagined 
+he  had  bene  so  bolde  to  comon  with  the  King  of  them  also. 
+Thereupon  they  greatly  envied  him,  and  afterwardes  mur- 
+mured much  against  him.    For  in  deede  the  king  dyd  honour  Themistocles 
+Themistocles   above   all   other   straungers  whatsoever   they  honoured  of 
+were.     On  a  time  the  king  had  him  out  a  hunting;  with  him,  n     -^ 
+he  made  him  see  his  mother,  with  whom  he  grewe  familliar : 
+and  by  the  kings  owne  commaundement  he  was  to  heare 
+the  disputations  of  the  wise  men  of  Persia  touching  secret 
+
+315 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+THEMIS-     philosophie,  which  they  call  magike.    Demaratus  the  Lacedae- 
+TOCLES      monian  being  at  that  time  in  the  courte  of  Persia,  the  king 
+willing  him  to  aske  what  gifte  he  would,  he  besought  the 
+Demaratus       king  to  graunt  him  this  favour :  to  licence  him  to  goe  up 
+fond  demande  and  down  the  cittie  of  Sardis,  with  his  royall  hat  on  his 
+of  the  King,     head,  as  the  kings  of  Persia  doe.     Mithropaustes,  the  kings 
+cosin,  taking  him  by  the  hand,  sayed  unto  him :  Demaratus, 
+the  kings  hatte  thou  demaundest,  and  if  it  were  on  thy 
+heade,  it  would  cover  but  litle  wit :    Naye  though  lupiter 
+dyd  geve  thee  his  lightning  in  thy  hande,  yet  that  would 
+not  make  thee  lupiter.     But  the  king  gave  him  so  sharpe  a 
+repulse  for  his  unreasonable  request,  and  was  so  angrie  with 
+him  for  it,  that  it  was  thought  he  would  never  have  forgeven 
+him  :  howbeit  Themistocles  was  so  earnest  a  suter  for  him, 
+that  he  brought  him  into  favour  againe.     And  the  reporte 
+goeth,  that  the  kings  successours  which  have  bene  since  that 
+time,  under  whom  the  Persians  have  had  more  dealings  with 
+the  Grecians,  then  in  former  dayes :  when  they  would  retaine 
+any  great  state  or  personage  of  Grece  into  their  service,  they 
+wrote  unto  him,  and  promised  him  they  would  make  him 
+greater  about  them,  then  ever  was  Themistocles  about  Xerxes. 
+That  which  is  written  of  him,  doth  also  confirme  it.    For  he 
+being  stept  up  to  great  countenaunce  and  authoritie,  and  fol- 
+lowed with  great  traines  of  suters  after  him  by  reason  of  his 
+greatnes  :  seing  him  self  one  daye  very  honorably  served  at  his 
+table,  and  with  all  sortes  of  daintie  meates,  he  turned  him 
+to  his  children,  and  sayed  unto  them  :  My  sonnes,  we  should 
+have  bene  undone,  if  we  had  not  bene  undone.     The  most 
+Themistocles    writers  doe  agree,  that  he  had  given  him  the  revenue  of  3 
+had  the  re-       citties  for  his  allowance  of  bread,  wine  and   vittailes  :    to 
+venue  of  three  ^j^^   Magnesia,  Lampsacus,   and    Mjninta.      But  Neanthes 
+him  for  his       Cyzicenian,  and  Phanias,  doe  adde  two  other  citties  more, 
+dyet.  Percota,  and  Palescepsia :  the  one  to  defraye  his  charges  of 
+
+apparell,  and  the  other  for  his  lodging.  Afterwards  Themis- 
+tocles going  into  the  lowe  countries  towards  the  sea,  to  take 
+order  against  the  practises  of  the  Grecians :  there  was  a 
+Persian  lord  called  Epixies  (governour  of  highe  Phrygia) 
+that  had  layed  a  traine  to  kill  him  (having  of  long  time 
+hiered  certaine  murderers  of  Pisidia  to  doe  it)  so  soone  as  he 
+316 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+should  come  into  a  towne  of  his  government,  called  the  THEMIS- 
+Lyons  head.  But  as  he  slept  on  a  daye  in  his  house  in  the  TOCLES 
+after  none,  the  mother  of  the  goddes  appeared  unto  him,  Themistocles 
+and  sayed :  Themistocles,  goe  not  to  the  Lyons  heade,  for  ^'scaped  mur- 
+feare  thou  mete  with  the  Lyon :  and  for  this  warning,  I  doe  •  ^  t^^™" 
+aske  thy  daughter  Mnesiptolema  for  my  servante.  Themis-  his  sleepe. 
+tocles  waking  sodainely  out  of  his  dreame,  made  his  prayer 
+unto  the  goddesse,  and  turning  out  of  the  highe  waye, 
+fetched  another  compasse  about.  Afterwardes  having  passed 
+that  towne,  he  tooke  his  lodging  being  benighted  :  but  one 
+of  the  beastes  which  caried  his  tente,  fell  by  the  waye, 
+unfortunatly  in  a  river,  and  all  his  arras  and  tapestry  hang- 
+ings being  throughly  wet,  his  ser vaunts  were  driven  to  laye 
+them  out  a  drying  by  moone  light.  The  Pisidians  that  laye 
+in  wayte,  and  could  not  discerne  by  moone  light  that  they 
+were  hangings  layed  out  to  drye,  thought  it  had  bene  the 
+very  tente  Themistocles  selfe  dyd  lye  in :  whereupon  they 
+went  unto  it  with  their  swordes  drawen  in  their  handes, 
+hoping  to  have  taken  him  sleeping.  But  when  they  were 
+come  thither,  and  beganne  to  lifte  up  a  pece  of  the  hangings  : 
+some  of  the  people  of  Themistocles  (which  kept  watche) 
+perceyving  them,  ranne  upon  them,  and  tooke  them.  So 
+Themistocles  having  escaped  this  daunger,  wondred  greately 
+at  the  favour  of  the  goddesse  which  had  appeared  unto  him. 
+In  recompence  whereof,  when  he  was  in  the  cittie  of  Magnesia, 
+he  built  a  temple  unto  Dindymena,  and  made  his  daughter 
+Mnesiptolema  prioresse  of  the  same.  As  he  passed  by  the 
+cittie  of  Sardis  for  his  recreation,  he  went  to  visite  the 
+temples,  and  offerings  that  had  bene  geven  there.  So  he 
+sawe  an  image  of  a  mayden  in  copper,  in  the  temple  of  the 
+mother  of  the  goddes,  being  two  yeardes  highe,  which  they 
+called  the  Hydropliora :  as  much  to  saye,  as  the  water  carier. 
+And  it  was  a  statue,  which  him  selfe  had  heretofore  dedicated, 
+and  caused  to  be  made,  with  the  fines  of  those  that  had  payed 
+forfeytures,  for  stealing  or  turning  awaye  the  water  course  at 
+Athens,  at  suche  time  as  he  was  master  surveyer  of  the  water 
+workes  and  conduites  there.  Wherfore,  whether  Themis- 
+tocles was  sory  to  see  this  goodly  image  a  prisoner  in  the 
+handes  of  the  Barbarous  people,  or  that  he  would  showe 
+
+317 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+THEMIS-  unto  the  Athenians  the  greatnes  of  his  credit  and  authoritie 
+TOCLES  through  all  the  Kings  dominions  :  he  spake  to  the  governour 
+of  Lydia,  and  prayed  him  for  his  sake  that  he  would  send 
+this  image  againe  to  Athens.  But  this  Barbarous  governour 
+was  very  angry  with  his  request,  and  tolde  him  he  would 
+advertise  the  King  thereof.  Then  Themistocles  beganne  to 
+be  afeard,  and  was  driven  to  seeke  to  the  governours  women 
+and  concubines,  whom  he  got  for  money  to  intreate  him,  and 
+so  made  fayre  weather  againe  with  the  governour.  But  from 
+thenceforth,  he  tooke  better  garde  of  him  selfe  in  all  his 
+doings,  greatly  fearing  the  envy  of  the  Barbarous  people. 
+For  he  progressed  not  up  and  downe  Asia,  as  Theopompus 
+writeth,  but  laye  a  long  time  in  the  cittie  of  Magnesia, 
+quietly  enjoying  the  Kings  gratious  giftes  bestowed  on  him  : 
+where  he  was  honoured  and  reverenced  for  one  of  the  greatest 
+persones  of  Persia,  whilest  the  King  was  els  where  occupied 
+in  the  afFayres  of  the  highe  provinces  of  Asia,  and  had  no 
+leysure  to  thincke  upon  those  of  Grece.  But  when  newes 
+was  brought  him,  that  ^Egypt  was  rebelled,  by  meanes  of 
+the  favour  and  assistance  of  the  Athenians,  and  that  the 
+Grecians  gallyes  dyd  scowre  the  seas  even  unto  the  He  of 
+Cyprus,  and  unto  the  coastes  of  Cilicia,  and  that  Cimon  had 
+all  the  sea  in  subjection :  that  made  him  then  to  bende  all 
+his  thoughts  howe  to  resist  the  Grecians,  that  their  greatnes 
+might  not  turne  to  his  hurte.  Then  commissions  went  out 
+to  leavy  men,  to  assemble  captaines,  and  to  dispatche  postes 
+unto  Themistocles  at  Magnesia,  with  the  Kings  letters, 
+straightly  charging  him  to  have  an  eye  to  the  Grecians 
+doings,  and  moreover  that  he  should  faithfully  keepe  his 
+Themistocles  promise  he  had  made  to  him.  But  he,  to  shewe  that  he 
+love  to  his  neither  maliced  his  cittizens,  nor  was  moved  with  the  desire 
+country.  ^^  greatnes  and  authoritie  he  might  have  growen  unto  in 
+
+those  warres,  or  els  for  that  he  thought  the  Kings  expecta- 
+tion would  prove  to  a  greater  matter,  then  he  could  ende  or 
+wade  through,  considering  Grece  was  full  at  that  time  of 
+famous  captaines,  and  that  Cimon  amongest  the  rest  had 
+marvelous  good  fortune,  and  that  it  should  be  a  reproche 
+to  him  to  stayne  the  glorie  of  so  many  noble  actes,  so 
+many  triumphes,  and  so  great  victories  as  Cimon  had  done 
+318 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+and  wonne :  he  tooke  a  wise  resolution  with  him  selfe,  to     THEMIS- 
+make  suche  an  ende  of  his  life,  as  the  fame  thereof  deserved.      TOCLES 
+For   he   made   a   solemne   sacrifice   unto   the   goddes,   and  The  manner 
+feasted    at  the  same  all  his  friends.      And,  after  he  had  ^^^y^^^^*'', 
+taken  his  leave  of  them  all,  he  drancke  buUes  bloude,  as  ^^•^^^^  ^^''*^- 
+most  men   thincke  (or  as  other  saye)  poyson,  which  dis- 
+patcheth  a  man  in  foure  and  twenty  howers,  and  so  ended 
+his  dayes  in  the  cittie  of  Magnesia,  after  he  had  lived  three- 
+score and  five  yeres,  and  the  most  parte  of  them  allwayes  in 
+office,  and  great  charge.     It  is  Avritten,  that  the  king  of 
+Persia  understanding  the  cause  and  manner  of  his  deathe, 
+dyd  more  esteeme  him  afterwards,  then  he  dyd  before,  and 
+that  ever  after  he  continued  to  use  his  friends  and  familliars 
+in  very  good  sorte.     For  he  left  children  behinde  him,  which 
+he  had  of  Archippa  (Lysanders  daughter)  of  the  towne  of  Themistocles 
+Alopecia :    Archeptolis,    Polyeuctus,    and    Cleophantus,    of  children, 
+whom  Plato  the  philosopher  maketh  mention,  saying  that 
+he  was  a  good  man  at  armes,  but  otherwise  that  there  was 
+no  goodnes  in  him.     His  other  sonnes  that  were  elder,  as 
+Neocles,  dyed  being  bitten  with  a  horse :  and  as  for  Diodes 
+another  sonne,  his  grandfather  Lysander  dyd  adopt  him  for 
+his  Sonne.     He   had    many  daughters,  of  the  which   Mne- 
+siptolema  (which  he  had  by  a  seconde  wife)  was  maried  unto 
+her  halfe  brother  Archeptolis,  for  they  were  not  both  of  one 
+venter.     An  other  called  Italia,  was  maried  unto  one  Pan- 
+thides   of  Chio.      Sybaris,   unto  Nicomedes   an   Athenian. 
+And  Nicomacha,  unto  Pharsicles,  Themistocles  nephue  :  unto 
+whom  her  brethern  dyd  mary  her  within  the  cittie  of  Mag- 
+nesia, after  the  death  of  their  father.     This  Pharsicles  dyd 
+bring  up  Asia,  which  was  the  youngest  of  all  his  daughters. 
+Furthermore,   his   sumptuous   tumbe   standeth   yet   in    the  Themistocles 
+market  place  of  Magnesia.     But  that  Andocides  writeth  of  tumbe  and 
+his  bones,  in  a  booke  he  made  to  his  friendes,  is  not  to  be  rehckes. 
+credited,  which  was :  that  the  Athenians  having  founde  the 
+ashes  of  his  bones,  dyd  cast  them  up  into  the  ayer,  as  a 
+devise  to  sturre  up  the  noble  men  against  the  people.     And 
+Phylarchus   in    his   historic   (much    like    unto    the   fayned 
+subtilties   of  a  tragedie)  bringeth  in   I  can  not  tell  what 
+Neocles,  and  Demopolis,  for  Themistocles  sonnes,  to  move 
+
+319 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+
+THEMIS- 
+TOCLES 
+
+
+Honour  done 
+to  Themis- 
+tocles  after 
+his  death. 
+
+
+the  readers  with  compassion, 
+but  will    judge    it    straight 
+
+
+Howbeit  no  man  is  so  simple, 
+a  very  fayning  and  devise. 
+Diodorus  the  cosmographer  also,  in  a  booke  he  hath  written 
+of  tumbes  and  monuments  sayeth,  by  conjecture,  rather  then 
+of  any  certen  knowledge :  that  alongest  the  haven  of  Piroea, 
+coming  towardes  the  head  of  Alcimus,  there  is  a  forelande  in 
+forme  of  an  elbowe,  within  the  which  when  they  have  doubled 
+the  pointe,  the  sea  is  allwayes  calme,  and  there  they  finde  a 
+great  and  long  foundation  or  base,  upon  the  which  there  is  as 
+it  were  the  forme  of  an  altar,  and  that  is  (sayeth  he)  Themis- 
+tocles  tumbe.  And  he  supposeth  that  Plato  the  comicall 
+poet  doth  witnesse  it  in  these  verses : 
+
+Thy  grave  is  set  and  plast,  comodiously, 
+
+where  passengers  and  marchants  that  come  by 
+maye  visite  thee,  and  where  it  maye  regarde, 
+all  such  as  seeke  that  porte  to  be  their  warde. 
+
+Somtimes  also,  it  maye  rejoyce  to  see, 
+the  bloudy  fights,  upon  the  sea  that  be. 
+
+And  furthermore,  those  of  Magnesia  dyd  institute  certen 
+
+honours  unto  the  issue  of  Themistocles,  which  continew  yet 
+
+unto  this  daye.     And  in  my  time,  another  Themistocles 
+
+also  of  Athens  dyd  enjoy  the  same  honours,  with  whom 
+
+I  was  familliarly  conversante  in  the  house  of 
+
+Ammonius  the  philosopher. 
+
+THE  ENDE  OF  THEMISTOCLES  LIFE 
+
+
+THE  LIFE  OF  FURIUS  CAMILLUS 
+
+
+MONGEST  many  great  matters  which  are 
+spoken  of  this  Furius  Camillus,  this 
+seemeth  most  straunge  and  wonderful] 
+above  the  rest.  That  he  having  borne 
+the  chiefest  offices  of  charge  in  his 
+countrie,  and  having  done  many  notable 
+and  worthy  deedes  in  the  same :  as  one 
+that  was  chosen  five  times  Dictator,  and 
+had  triumphed  foure  times,  and  had  wonne  him  selfe  the 
+320 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+name  and  title  of  the  seconde  founder  of  Rome,  and  yet      FURIUS 
+never  came  to  be  Consul.     But  the  only  cause  thereof  was,    CAMILLUS 
+that  the  common  weale  of  Rome  stoode  then  in  such  state  Why  Camil- 
+and  sorte.     The  people  were  then  at   dissention  with  the  lus  never 
+Senate.      They    would   chuse   no  more  Consuls,  but  other  S^f"™^  ^P 
+kynde  of  governours  whom    they  called  Tribuni  militares : 
+these  dyd  all  things  with  like  power  and  authoritie  as  the 
+Consuls,  yet  were  they  nothing  so  odious  unto  the  people,  by  The  aiithori- 
+reason  of  the  number  that  was  of  them.     For  it  was  some  tie  of  a  fewe, 
+hope  to  them  that  could   ill   beare  the  rule  of  the  small  ^^^^J^  *^^ 
+number  of  nobilitie,  that  the  government  of  the  state  being  people, 
+put  into  sixe,  and  not  into  two  officers  hands,  their  rule 
+would  be  the  easier,  and  tollerabler.    Nowe  Camillus  being  at 
+that  time  in  his  best  credit  and  authoritie,  and  in  the  prime 
+and  glorie  of  his  doings,  dyd  not  desire  to  be  made  Consul 
+without  the  goodwill  of  the  people,  although  whilest  he  was 
+in  authoritie,  there  were  many  times  Consuls  created.     But 
+to  all  other  offices  and  dignities,  he  was  called,  and  chosen. 
+He  behaved  him  selfe  in  such  sorte,  that  when  he  was  alone, 
+he  made  his  authoritie  comon  to  other :  and  when  he  had 
+companions  and  associates,  the  glorie  of  all  redounded  to  him 
+self  alone.     The  cause  whereof,  was  his  modestie  on  the  one  Camillus 
+side,  for  he  commaunded  ever  without  en  vie  :  and  his  great  wisedome  and 
+wisedome  and  sufficiencie  on  the  other  side,  for  the  which  all  "^"^®^*'^- 
+others  willingly  gave  him  place,  and  yelded  to  him.     The 
+house  of  the  Furians  being  at  that  time  of  no  great  fame,  he 
+was  the  first  that  beganne  to  set  him  self  forwards.     For  in 
+a  great  battell  which  was  fought  against  the  ^Eques  and 
+Volsces,  he  being   but  a  private  man  at  armes  under  the 
+Dictator  Posthuraius  Tubertus,  was  the  first  that  riding  out 
+of  the  army,  advaunced    him    selfe,  and   gave  the  charge. 
+And  being  ronne  into  the  thighe  at  the  time  with  a  staffe  Camillus 
+broken  upon  his  thighe,  he  plucked  the  trunchen  out,  and  hurte. 
+retired  not  for  all  that :  but  geving  chardge  againe  upon  the 
+stowtest  of  the  enemies,  he  fought  it  out  so  valiantly  to  the 
+encoraging  of  other,  that  he  was  the  chief  cause  they  turned 
+their  backes.     Whereupon,  to  requite  his  service  done  at 
+that  time  (besides  other  honours  they  dyd  him)  they  made 
+him  Censor  :  an  office  at  that  time  of  great  preheminence  and 
+2S  321 
+
+
+FURIUS 
+CAMILLUS 
+
+Camillus  acts 
+in  his  Censor 
+shippe. 
+
+
+The  cittie 
+of  Veies 
+besieged. 
+
+
+The  siege 
+continued 
+seven  yeres 
+together. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+dignitie.  In  his  office  of  Censorshippe,  he  dyd  two  notable 
+acts.  The  one  very  honest :  when  he  brought  men  that 
+were  not  maried,  to  marie  the  women  whom  the  warres  had 
+left  widows,  which  were  in  number  many.  To  this  he  got 
+them  partly  by  persuasion,  and  partly  by  threatnings,  to  set 
+round  fines  upon  their  heads  that  refused.  The  other  very 
+necessary :  in  that  he  brought  the  orphanes  to  be  contribu- 
+tories,  unto  taxes,  and  subsidies,  which  before  payed  nothing. 
+The  cause  thereof  was,  the  continuall  warres,  about  the 
+which  the  common  weale  susteined  great  charges :  but 
+specially  about  the  siege  of  the  citie  of  the  Veians  (which 
+some  call  Venetanians)  that  was  a  very  sore  burden  to  them 
+at  that  time.  For  it  was  the  capitall  cittie  of  all  Thuscan, 
+the  which  for  store  of  armour,  and  number  of  souldiers,  was 
+nothing  inferiour  unto  the  cittie  of  Rome.  For  the  Veians 
+being  growen  to  stomake  and  corage  in  time,  by  reason 
+of  their  wealth  and  prosperitie,  and  for  the  sundry  great 
+battells  they  had  fought  against  the  Romaines,  that  con- 
+tended with  them  for  glory  and  empire :  now  it  fell  so  out, 
+that  they  finding  them  selves  weakened  by  many  great  over- 
+throwes,  which  they  had  receyved  of  the  Romaines,  they  did 
+let  fall  their  former  peacokes  bravery,  and  ambition,  to  byd 
+them  battell  any  more  in  the  fielde,  Howbeit  the  inhabitants 
+of  the  cittie  of  Veies  having  raised  the  walles,  and  made 
+very  great  high  rampers,  beganne  to  fortifie  them  selves,  and 
+made  good  provision  for  armour  and  munition,  besides  store 
+of  corne,  shotte,  and  other  necessary  things  :  they  valliantly, 
+and  without  feare  of  any  thing,  defended  the  siege  of  the 
+Romaines,  that  continued  long  time,  and  was  no  lesse  hard  and 
+painefull  unto  them  that  did  besiege,  then  it  was  unto  those 
+that  were  besieged.  For  where  the  Romaines  were  wont 
+before  time  to  keepe  their  houses  in  the  winter  season,  and 
+the  field  only  in  the  sommer  time  :  that  was  the  first  time 
+they  were  compelled  by  the  captaines  and  Tribuni  militares, 
+to  buylde  fortes,  and  to  intrenche  their  campe  with  a  wall, 
+even  in  their  enemies  countrie,  and  to  winter  abroade  as 
+they  were  wont  to  lye  in  the  campe  in  sommer.  Nowe  this 
+siege  had  continued  seven  whole  yeres  together.  The  cap- 
+taines were  burdened  that  they  dyd  not  their  dueties,  nor 
+322 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+stoode  manfully  to  their  charge  :  whereupon  in  the  cnde  they      FURIUS 
+were  discharged,  and  other  captaines  placed  in  their  roomes    CAMILLUS 
+to  followe  the  siege.     Among  those,  Camillas  was  one,  whom 
+then  the  seconde  time  they  created  Tribuntis  militaris.    Who  Camillus 
+notwithstanding  dyd  nothing  then  in  that  siege,  bicause  it  twise  chosen 
+was  his  happe  by  lot,  to  make  warres  upon  the  Phalerians,  l^^^^^^i^^^^^ 
+and  the  Capenates.    These  people  whilest  the  Romaines  were 
+occupied  other  where,  had  invaded  their  countrie,  and  done 
+them  great  harme,  during  the  time  of  their  warre  with  the 
+Thuscans.    But  Camillus  having  overthrowen  a  great  number 
+of  them  in  the  fielde,  had  the  rest  in  chase,  and  drave  them  to 
+take  their  cittie,  and  dyd  shut  them  up  within  their  owne  walles. 
+The  chaunce  that  happened  at  the  lake  of  Albanus,  about  The  wouder- 
+the  time  the  Thuscan  warres  were  greatest,  dyd  marvelously  full  overflow- 
+amate  the  Romaines,  being  no  lesse  wounderfull,  then  the  ^^^^^yg^  ^ 
+most  straunge  and  uncrediblest  thing  that  could  be  tolde  by 
+man.      For   they  could    not   finde  out  the  cause  of  it  by 
+common  reason,  nor  any  naturall  grounde :  considering  it 
+was  in  the  later  end  of  Autumne,  and  sommer  was  ended,  and 
+that  there  had  not  bene  much  rayne,  nor  notable  so%vthe 
+winds.     And  although  there  are  many  lakes,  many  brooks 
+and  rivers,  many  springs,   and  other  waters  in  Italic :  yet 
+some  of  them  dried  up  altogether,  others  ranne  but  faintely 
+by  reason  of  the  drought,  and  all  the  rivers  then  were  (as 
+they  are  wont  to  be  commonly  in  sommer)  very  lowe,  and 
+there  was  scant  any  water.     But  the  lake  Albanus  contrari- 
+wise, that  Cometh  from  no  other  place,  neither  runneth  any 
+whether  out  of  him  selfe,  being  environned  all  about  with 
+hilles  and  mountaines,  and  where  the  earthe  is  good  :  beganne 
+to  swell,  and  rise  to  every  mans  sight,  without  any  cause  at 
+all  (but  secret  and  hidden  unto  the  goddes  alone)  and  went 
+allwayes  increasing  alongest  those  hilles  sides,  untill  suche 
+time  as  it  came  to  be  even  with  the  height  of  the  highest 
+mountaine,  gathering  upwardes  still  without  any  waves  or 
+tempest  of  weather  at  all.     This  at  the  first,  made  poore 
+shepeheardes  and    heardemen,    keeping  their  cattell  there- 
+aboutes,  marvelously  affrayed.     But  at  the  lengthe  when  the 
+earthe  and  weight  of  one  of  the  hilles  (which  kepte  in  the 
+lake  as   a  walle,  from  running  over  the  felde)  beganne  to 
+
+323 
+
+
+FURIUS 
+CAMILLUS 
+
+
+The  crafte  of 
+a  Romaine. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+breake  by  reason  of  the  waight,  and  great  quantitie  of  water, 
+that  ranne  straight  with  a  marvelous  extreme  force  and 
+violence  over  all  the  arrable  landes  and  groundes  planted 
+with  trees,  and  so  tooke  his  course  into  the  sea :  the 
+Romaines  then  not  alone,  but  the  whole  inhabitants  of  Italy 
+were  wounderfully  affrayed,  and  judged  that  it  was  some 
+signe  and  prognostication  of  some  wounderfuU  thing  to 
+come.  And  there  was  no  other  newes  currante  in  the 
+campe,  which  laye  at  siege  of  the  cittie  of  Veies  :  insomuch 
+as  the  very  brute  of  it  flewe  over  the  walles  of  the  cittie, 
+unto  them  that  were  besieged.  And  as  it  happeneth  very 
+ofte  in  long  sieges,  that  those  which  lye  in  campe  doe  often- 
+times talke  with  them  that  are  besieged :  there  was  a 
+Romaine  who  fell  acquainted,  and  commonly  used  to  talke 
+familiarly  with  one  of  the  cittie,  who  could  tell  of  many  olde 
+and  straunge  things  done  and  happened,  and  was  very 
+skillfull  above  any  other  in  the  cittie,  in  the  arte  of  divina- 
+tion, or  soothesaying.  The  Romaine  then  tolde  him  one 
+daye  the  violent  breaking  out  of  the  lake  Albanus,  and  per- 
+ceyving  that  the  other  after  he  had  heard  him,  was  as  mery 
+as  a  pye  at  the  matter,  and  that  he  gibed  at  their  siege  :  he 
+tolde  him  further,  that  this  wounderfuU  chaunce  was  not 
+only  happened  unto  the  Romaines  at  that  time,  but  that 
+they  had  bene  acquainted  with  many  other  farre  more 
+straunge  then  this,  which  he  would  very  willingly  open  unto 
+him,  to  see  if  there  were  any  remedy,  that  though  the 
+affaires  of  the  common  weale  had  but  harde  successe,  yet  he 
+would  procure  that  his  owne  private  matters  might  prosper 
+well  with  him.  The  Veian  aunswered  him,  he  would  heare 
+them  with  a  goodwill,  and  gave  good  eare  unto  him,  hoping 
+to  have  heard  some  great  secret.  So  the  Romaine  training 
+him  on  still  from  one  matter  to  another,  holding  on  his 
+waye,  untill  he  sawe  he  was  a  good  distance  of  from  the  gates 
+of  the  cittie,  he  sodainely  cought  holde  on  him,  and  by 
+strong  hand  caried  him  awaye  with  him,  and  with  helpe  of 
+other  souldiers  which  came  ronning  out  of  the  campe  unto 
+him,  he  brought  him  to  the  captaines.  The  Veian  seeing 
+him  self  thus  forciblie  used,  and  knowing  also  that  fatall 
+desteny  cannot  be  avoyded,  beganne  to  declare  unto  the 
+324' 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+Romaines,  the  auncient  oracles  and  prophecies  touching  the      FURIUS 
+fortune  of  their  cittie  :  by  which  it  was  reported  unto  them,    CAMILLUS 
+that  the  cittie  of  Veies  should  never  be  taken,  untill  the 
+enemie  had  caused  the  water  of  the  lake  Albanus  (which 
+should  breake  out)  to  be  brought  backe  againe,  and  to  turne 
+it  some  other  wave  from  thence,  that  it  should  not  fall  into 
+the  sea.     This  was  caried  unto  the  Senate  at  Rome,  to  be 
+consulted  of  in  counsail :  and  there  it  was  determined  they 
+should  send  to  the  oracle  of  Apollo,  at  the  cittie  of  Delphes, 
+and  aske  him  what  they  should   doe  therein.      So  thither 
+was  sent  great  and  notable  men,  Cossus  Licinius,  Valerius 
+Politus,   and    Fabius  Ambustus :    who    having   ended  their 
+jomey  by  sea,  and  receyved  aunswer  of  that  they  demaunded, 
+returned   home   againe,   and   amongest   other   oracles   they 
+brought    one   that   sayed   thus  :    That    through   negligence  An  oracle 
+they   had    omitted    some   auncient  ceremonies  in  the  holy  brought  from 
+dayes  of  the  Latines.     And  another  willed  them,  that  they  I^^^P"^^- 
+should  by  all  possible  meanes  they  could,  keepe  the  water  of 
+the  lake  Albanus  that  it  fell  not  into  the  sea,  and  should  (if 
+it  were  possible)  bring  it  backe  againe  into  his  old  place :  if 
+not,  that  yet  they  should  cut  as  many  trenches  and  ditches 
+as  might  be,  that  it  might  be  droncke  up  in  the  middest  of 
+the   fields.      When   these   oracles   were    understanded,    the 
+priests  prepared  all  things  for  divine  service,  and  the  people 
+went  about  the  water  of  the  lake  to  turne  it  againe.     After 
+these  things  were  done,  the  Senate  in  the  tenth  yere  of  the 
+warres  against  the  Veians,  put  of  all  those  which  dyd  beare 
+office,  and  created  Caniillus  Dictator,  who  named  for  generall  Camilhis 
+of  the  horse  men,  Cornelius  Scipio.     And  before  he  went  in  chosen 
+hande  with  any  thing,  he  made  a  vowe  unto  the  goddes,  that  I^^<^t^tor. 
+if  it  pleased  them  to  graunte  a  happy  ende  of  these  warres, 
+in  honour  of  them  he  would  celebrate  great  playes,  and  buyld 
+a  temple  unto  the  goddesse  which  the  Romaines  call  Matuta:  Matuta. 
+which  seemeth  to  be  her  whom  we  call  Leucothea,  considering  Leucothea. 
+the  ceremonies  done  in  these  sacrifices.     For  they  cause  a 
+chamber  mayde  to  enter  into  her  temple,  and   there  they 
+boxe  her  about  the  eares.     Then  they  put  her  out  of  the 
+temple,  and  doe  embrace  their  brothers  children  rather  then 
+their  owne.      They  make  many  other  ceremonies,  and  they 
+
+325 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+
+FURIUS 
+CAMILLUS 
+
+
+The  cittie  of 
+Veies  taken 
+by  mining'. 
+
+
+CamUlus 
+prayer  when 
+Veies  was 
+taken. 
+
+
+are  much  like  unto  those  that  are  done  unto  Bacchus 
+nurces,  and  to  the  misfortunes  that  chaunced  unto  Ino,  by 
+reason  of  her  husbands  concubine.  After  all  these  vowes  and 
+prayers  made,  he  entred  with  his  army  into  the  Falissians 
+territories,  whom  he  overthrewe  in  a  great  battell,  together 
+with  the  Capenates  also,  which  came  to  ayde  them.  From 
+thence  he  went  to  the  siege  of  the  cittie  of  the  Veies, 
+where  perceyving  to  take  it  by  assaulte,  was  not  to  be 
+wonne  without  great  daunger  :  he  beganne  to  undermine 
+it  (finding  the  earth  all  about  very  minable)  and  with  all 
+so  deepe,  that  the  enemies  could  perceyve  nothing.  Nowe 
+when  his  mining  fell  out  according  to  his  good  hope,  he 
+gave  an  assaulte  to  the  walles  in  all  places  alike  about  the 
+cittie  at  one  instante,  to  bring  out  all  the  inhabitants  of 
+the  cittie  to  man  the  walles.  Whilest  they  were  all  thus 
+upon  the  walles  to  make  defence :  Camillus  souldiers  entred 
+secretly  through  the  mines  within  the  castell,  harde  by 
+the  temple  of  luno :  which  was  the  chiefe  Churche  of  all 
+the  cittie,  and  whereunto  the  cittizens  had  most  devotion. 
+They  saye  that  even  at  that  present  time  the  generall  of  the 
+Thuscans  dyd  sacrifice  unto  the  goddes,  and  that  his  soothe- 
+sayer  having  considered  the  intrells  of  the  beastes  offered  up 
+in  sacrifice,  cried  out  alowde,  that  the  goddes  gave  the 
+victorie  unto  him,  which  should  happen  to  come  upon  them 
+in  this  sacrifice.  The  Romaines  which  were  within  the  mine 
+hearing  this,  brake  the  earth  incontinently,  and  leaped  out, 
+crying,  and  making  noyse  with  their  weapons :  wherewith 
+the  enemies  were  so  astonied,  that  they  fled  upon  it,  and  so 
+the  Romaines  tooke  the  intrells,  and  caried  them  unto 
+Camillus.  And  these  be  even  much  like  the  Poets  tales  and 
+fables.  Howbeit  Camillus  having  by  this  meanes  taken  the 
+cittie,  and  seeing  from  the  toppe  of  the  castell  the  infinite 
+goodes  and  riches  within  the  cittie,  which  the  souldiers 
+spoyled  and  made  havoke  of,  he  wept  for  very  pittie.  And 
+when  those  that  were  about  him  tolde  him  he  was  a  happy 
+man :  he  lift  up  his  handes  unto  heaven,  and  made  this 
+prayer :  O  mightie  god  lupiter,  and  you  O  goddes,  which 
+see  and  judge  mens  good  and  ill  worckes :  you  knowe  right 
+well,  that  we  have  not  willingly  (without  wrong  and  cause 
+326 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+offered  us)  begonne  this  warre,  but  justly,  and  by  compulsion,  FURIUS 
+to  be  revenged  of  a  cittie  our  enemie,  which  hath  done  us  CAMILLUS 
+great  injuries.  But  if  to  contervayle  this  our  great  good 
+prosperitie,  and  victorie,  some  bitter  adversitie  and  over- 
+throwe  be  predestined  unto  us :  I  beseeche  you  then  (most 
+mercifull  goddes)  in  sparing  our  cittie  of  Rome,  and  this  her 
+army,  you  will  (with  as  litle  hurte  as  maye  be)  let  it  all  fall 
+and  light  upon  my  persone  alone.  And  as  he  had  spoken 
+these  wordes,  and  was  turning  on  his  right  hande  (according 
+to  the  manner  of  the  Romaines  after  they  have  prayed  unto 
+the  goddes)  he  fell  downe  flat  before  them  all.  The  standers 
+by  taking  this  fall  for  an  ill  token,  were  somwhat  troubled 
+with  the  matter :  but  after  he  got  up  on  his  feete  againe, 
+he  tolde  them  that  the  thing  he  requested  of  the  goddes 
+was  happened  unto  him.  And  that  was,  a  litle  hurte,  in 
+exchaunge  of  a  great  good  fortune.  So  the  whole  cittie 
+being  spoyled  and  rifled,  he  was  also  desirous  to  carie  lunos 
+image  to  Rome,  to  accomplishe  the  vowe  he  had  made. 
+And  having  sent  for  worckemen  for  this  purpose,  he  dyd 
+sacrifice  first  unto  the  goddesse,  beseching  her  to  accept 
+well  of  the  Romaines  good  will,  and  that  she  would  willingly 
+vowchesafe  to  come  and  dwell  with  the  other  goddes,  who 
+had  the  protection  of  the  cittie  of  Rome.  Some  saye,  that 
+the  image  aunswered,  she  was  contented.  But  Livius  writeth 
+that  Camillus  made  this  prayer,  as  he  touched  the  image, 
+and  that  the  assistants  aunswered  she  was  contented,  and 
+would  goe  with  a  goodwill.  Yet  they  which  doe  affirme,  it 
+was  the  image  selfe  that  spake,  doe  favour  this  miracle, 
+grounding  their  proofe  upon  the  opinion  of  the  fortune  of 
+Rome :  the  which,  from  so  base  and  meane  beginning  had 
+impossibly  attained  unto  so  highe  glorie  and  power  as  it  had, 
+without  the  singular  favour  of  the  goddes,  and  that  hath 
+manifestly  appeared  unto  the  world,  by  sundry  great  proofes 
+and  examples.  They  bring  forth  also  such  other  like  won-  Fayned 
+ders.  As,  that  images  have  heretofore  let  fall  droppes  of  wonders  of 
+swet  from  them  :  that  they  have  bene  heard  to  sighe :  that  i'"^^*^- 
+they  have  turned :  and  that  they  have  made  certen  signes 
+with  their  eyes,  as  we  finde  written  in  many  auncient  stories. 
+And  we  could  our  selves  also  tell  such  like  wonders,  which 
+
+327 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+
+FURIUS 
+CAMILLUS 
+
+Plutarches 
+judgement  of 
+miracles. 
+
+
+Camillus 
+stately 
+triumphs  of 
+the  Veians. 
+
+
+A  lawe  for 
+the  people  of 
+Rome  to  dwell 
+at  Veies. 
+
+
+we  have  heard  men  of  our  time  affirme,  which  are  not  un- 
+credible,  nor  lightly  to  be  condemned.  But  for  such  matters, 
+it  is  as  daungerous  to  geve  to  much  credit  to  them,  as  also 
+to  discredit  them  to  much,  by  reason  of  the  weaknes  of  mans 
+nature,  which  hath  no  certen  boundes,  nor  can  rule  it  self, 
+but  ronneth  somtimes  after  vanitie  and  superstition,  and 
+otherwhile  also  dispiseth  and  contemneth  holy  and  divine 
+matters :  and  therefore  the  meane  is  the  vertue,  and  not  to 
+goe  to  farre  in  this,  as  in  all  other  things  besides,  it  is  the 
+best.  No  we  Camillus,  whether  his  late  enterprise  performed, 
+in  winning  a  cittie  that  stoode  out  with  Rome,  and  helde 
+siege  with  them  tenne  yeres  together,  had  put  him  into  an 
+overwening  or  conceipt  of  him  selfe :  or  that  the  wordes  of 
+the  people,  which  dyd  blesse  and  prayse  him,  had  made  him 
+looke  highe,  and  presume  upon  him  selfe,  more  then  became 
+the  modestie  of  a  civill  magistrate,  and  governour  of  the 
+common  weale,  and  one  that  was  subject  to  the  lawe :  he 
+shewed  a  stately  triumphe,  set  forth  with  all  riche  furniture, 
+and  specially  for  that  him  self  was  caried  through  Rome 
+upon  his  triumphant  charret  drawen  with  foure  fayer  white 
+coursers.  This,  never  captaine  nor  generall  before  him  durst 
+undertake  to  doe,  neither  any  ever  after  him  attempted  it : 
+for  they  thinke  it  is  a  sacred  cariage,  and  only  mete  for  the 
+King,  and  father  of  the  goddes.  This  bred  him  much  envy 
+amongest  the  cittizens,  which  had  not  bene  acquainted  with 
+so  great  statelynes.  There  was  another  occasion  also  that 
+made  them  mislike  him  much :  which  was,  bicause  he  stood 
+against  the  lawe  put  forth  that  they  should  devide  the  cittie 
+of  Rome.  For  the  Tribunes  of  the  people  dyd  set  out  an 
+Edict,  that  the  Senate  and  people  of  Rome  should  be  devided 
+into  two  partes :  and  that  those  on  whom  the  lotte  should 
+fall,  should  abide  still  in  Rome,  and  the  other  should  goe 
+dwell  in  the  newe  wonne  cittie  of  Veies.  These  were  the 
+reasons  to  persuade  this :  that  both  the  one  and  the  other 
+sorte  should  be  richer  then  they  were  before,  and  should 
+more  easely  keepe  their  lands  and  goodes  from  the  invasion 
+of  their  enemies,  by  meanes  of  these  two  great  citties.  The 
+people  which  were  multiplied  nowe  into  great  numbers,  and 
+had  served  duetifuUy  and  daungerously,  thought  it  the  best 
+328 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+waye  in  the  worlde  :  Therefore  they  still  cried  out,  and  FURIUS 
+thronged  with  great  tumulte,  about  their  pulpit  for  orations,  CAMILLUS 
+praying  that  this  lawe  might  be  put  unto  the  voyces  of  the 
+people.  But  the  whole  Senate,  and  wisest  cittizens  among 
+them,  judging  this  motion  of  the  Tribunes  would  be  the 
+destruction,  and  not  the  division  of  the  cittie  of  Rome : 
+could  in  no  wise  abide  it  should  goe  any  further.  Where- 
+upon they  went  and  prayed  Camillus  helpe :  who  fearing  to 
+bring  it  to  the  pointe,  whether  the  lawe  should  passe  or  no, 
+dyd  allwayes  seeke  new  occasions  and  letts,  still  to  delaye 
+and  put  of  the  matter,  and  staye  the  confirmation  of  this 
+lawe.  For  these  causes,  he  was  hated  of  the  common  people. 
+But  the  originall  and  apparant  cause  of  the  peoples  ill  will  The  chiefest 
+towards  him,  was  for  taking  from  them  the  tenth  parte  of  cause  of  the 
+their  spoyles :  and  it  was  not  altogether  without  some  P^^,?  ^^  .  . 
+reason,  and  to  saye  truely  the  people  dyd  him  much  wrong  Camillus. 
+to  beare  him  such  malice  for  that.  For  before  he  went  to 
+the  cittie  of  Veies,  he  made  a  solemne  vowe  to  offer  the  tenth 
+parte  unto  the  goddes,  of  the  spoyles  of  the  cittie,  if  he 
+wanne  the  same.  But  when  it  was  taken  and  sacked,  whether 
+it  was  that  he  was  lothe  to  trouble  the  cittizens,  or  having  a 
+worlde  of  busines  in  his  head,  that  he  easely  forgate  his  vowe : 
+he  suffered  the  souldiers  to  devide  the  spoyle  amongest  them, 
+and  to  take  the  benefit  to  them  selves.  Shortely  after  he 
+was  discharged  of  his  charge,  he  dyd  enforme  the  Senate  of 
+his  vowe.  Furthermore,  the  soothesayers  made  reporte  at 
+that  very  time,  howe  they  knewe  by  certaine  signes  and 
+tokens  of  their  sacrifices,  that  the  goddes  were  offended  for 
+somwhat,  and  howe  they  must  of  necessitie  be  pacified  againe. 
+Whereupon  the  Senate  presently  made  an  order,  where  it 
+was  unpossible  every  man  should  bring  in  againe  the  selfe 
+same  things  he  had  gotten,  to  make  a  newc  division  of  every 
+mans  share :  that  every  one  therefore  upon  his  othe  should 
+present  the  tenthe  parte  of  his  gaynes  he  had  gotten  by  that 
+bootie.  There  was  great  trouble  about  it.  They  were 
+driven  to  use  great  extremitie  to  the  poore  souldiers  (which 
+had  traveled  sore,  and  taken  great  paynes  in  the  warres)  to 
+make  them  to  restore  backe  such  a  coloppe  out  of  their  gainc, 
+and  the  rather  bicausc  many  of  them  had  already  spent  it 
+2T  329 
+
+
+FURIUS 
+CAMILLUS 
+
+
+A  cuppe  of 
+golde  sent  to 
+Delphes. 
+
+The  ladyes  of 
+Rome  gave 
+their  juells 
+towards  the 
+making  of  it. 
+
+What  time 
+womens 
+prayses  be- 
+ganne  at 
+funeralls  in 
+Rome. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+every  penney :  and  for  this  trouble,  they  all  cried  out  with 
+
+open  mouth  against  Camillus.    But  he  being  set  up,  and  not 
+
+knowing  otherwise  howe  to  excuse  him  selfe,  was  forced  to 
+
+bring  forth  as  cold  and  as  unreasonable  an  excuse  as  he 
+
+could  make,  which  was :  forsoothe  he  had  forgotten  his  vowe 
+
+he  had  made.     The  people  notwithstanding  were  eger  still 
+
+against  him,  saying :  howe  he  had  vowed  then  to  offer  the 
+
+tenth  parte  of  the  enemies  goodes  to  the  goddes,  and  that 
+
+nowe  he  would  performe  it  with  the  tenthes  of  the  cittizens 
+
+goodes.      Nevertheles,  every  man  having  brought  that  he 
+
+should  for  his  parte :  it  was  thought  good  they  should  cause 
+
+a  massie  cuppe  of  golde  to  be  made,  to  send  to  the  temple  of 
+
+Apollo  at  Delphes.     And  small  store  of  golde  being  in  the 
+
+cittie  of  Rome,  as  the  officers  of  the  cittie  were  serching  up 
+
+and  downe  to  get  it :    the  women  of  Rome  of  their  owne 
+
+voluntary  willes  without  motion,  agreed  among  them  selves, 
+
+that  they  would  departe  with  all  the  juells  they  had,  towardes 
+
+the  making  up  of  this  offering,  which  came  to  the  weight  of 
+
+eight  talents.    In  recompence  whereof,  to  honour  them  withall : 
+
+the  Senate  ordeined  that  they  should  be  praysed  openly  with 
+
+funerall  orations  at  their  buriall,  as  they  dyd  use  at  honorable 
+
+and  noble  mens  obsequies.     For  before  that  lawe,  it  was  not 
+
+the    manner   to   prayse  women   openly  at  their   funeralles. 
+
+Nowe  there  were  appointed  three  of  the  noblest  men  of  the 
+
+cittie  to  goe  to  carie  this  offering,  and  they  sent  them  out  in 
+
+a  galley  well  manned,  stored  also  with  good  mariners,  and 
+
+trimly  set  forth  in  all  triumphing  manner :  howbeit  both  in 
+
+storme,  and  calme  weather,  they  were  in  daunger  of  their 
+
+lives.      For    after   that    they    had    scaped    drowning    very 
+
+narrowly  by  tempest,  when   the  winde  was  downe  againe, 
+
+they  fell    into    another   daunger,   which  they  escaped  also 
+
+beyond  all  hope.     For  harde  by  the   lies   of  JEolus,  the 
+
+gallyes  of  the  Liparians  fell  upon  them,  as  if  they  had  bene 
+
+rovers.    But  when  the  Liparians  sawe  they  made  no  resistance, 
+
+and  intreated  them,  holding  up  their  hands :  they  gave  no 
+
+further  charge  upon  them,  but  only  fastened  their  gallye 
+
+unto  theirs.     So  when  they  had  haled  them  to  the  shore, 
+
+they  declared  they  were  pirates,  and  offered  to  make  porte 
+
+sale  of  the  men  and  goodes,  as  if  they  had  bene  a  lawfuU 
+
+330 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+prise :  and  had  solde  them  in  deede,  had  not  the  wisedome      FURIUS 
+and  authoritie  of  Timesitheus  letted  them,  who  was  governour    CAMILLUS 
+at  that  time  of  the  cittie,  and  had  great  a  doe  to  persuade 
+them  to  let  them  goe.     And  he  dyd  not  so  leave  them,  but 
+sent  out  certaine  of  his  owne  shippes  to  accompanie  them  in 
+their  jorney,  who  dyd  helpe  them  to  goe  and  performe  their 
+offering.    For  which  curtesie  of  his,  the  Romaines  afterwardes 
+dyd  him  great  honour  at  Rome,  according  to  his  well  deserv- 
+ing.    The  Tribunes  of  the  people  beganne  nowe  to  set  a 
+foote  againe  the  lawe  for  the  deviding  of  the  inhabitans  of 
+Rome   unto   the   cittie   of  Veies.      But  the  warres  of  the 
+Falisces  fell  out  happely  at  that  time,  wherby  the  noble  men 
+dyd    choose   such    officers   as   they  would.      So  they  chose  Camillus 
+Camillus,  Tribimus  militaris  of  the  souldiers,  and  five  other  £^?^^" 
+to  assiste  him,  the  service  in  that  case  requiring  a  generall,  ^^^  souldiers 
+that  caried  both  authoritie  and  reputation  among  them,  as 
+an   olde   experienced    souldier   in   the    warres.     When   the 
+people   had    confirmed    the   election,    Camillus   immediatly 
+entred   the  territories  of  the  Falisces  with   the  Romaines 
+armie,  where  he  layed  siege  unto  the  cittie  of  the  Falerians,  Camillus  be- 
+being  very  well  fortified,  vitteled  and  stored,  with  all  other  siegeth  the 
+munition  of  warre.     Knowing  therefore  that  it  was  no  small  ^'a^^e^ai^s- 
+attempt  to  winne  this  cittie,  and  that  it  would  not  be  done 
+in  a  shorte  time  :  he  pollitikely  sought  (whatsoever  came  of 
+it)  to  keepe  his  countrimen  occupied  about  some  thing,  and 
+to  staye  them  for  going  home,  least  by  repayring  to  Rome, 
+they  should  have  many  occasions  to  rebell,  and  raise  some 
+civill   dissention.     For  the    Romaines  dyd  wisely   use  this 
+remedie :    to    disperse    abroade    like    good    phisicians,   the 
+humours  which  troubled  the  quiet  state  of  their  common 
+weale  at  home.     But  the  Falerians  trusting  in  the  situation 
+of  their  cittie,  which  was  very  strong  in  all  partes,  made  so 
+litle  accompt  of  the  siege  :  that  those  which  kept  not  watche 
+upon  the  walles,  walked  up  and  downe  in  their  gownes  in 
+the    cittie,    without   any   weapon   about    them,    and    their 
+children  went  to  schoole,  the  schoolemaster  also  would  com- 
+monly leade  them  abroade  out  of  the  cittie  a  walking,  to 
+playe  and  passe  the  time  by  the  towne  walles.     For  the 
+whole  cittie  had  one  common  schoolemaster,  as  the  Grecians 
+
+331 
+
+
+FURIUS 
+CAMILLUS 
+
+
+Camillus 
+worthie  acte 
+totheschoole- 
+masterj  be- 
+traying the 
+Falerians 
+children. 
+
+A  noble  saying 
+of  Camillus, 
+and  wise  pre- 
+cept for 
+warres. 
+
+Valiantnes  to 
+be  preferred 
+before  vUanie. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+also  have,  which  doe  bring  up  their  children  from  litle  ones  in 
+company  together,  bicause  one  maye  be  familiarly  acquainted 
+with  an  other.  This  schoolemaster  spying  his  time  to  doe 
+the  Falerians  a  shrewd  turne,  dyd  accustomably  take  all  his 
+scholers  out  of  the  cittie  with  him,  to  playe,  not  farre  from 
+the  walles  at  the  beginning,  and  afterwards  brought  them 
+into  the  cittie  againe,  after  they  had  played  their  fill.  Now 
+after  he  had  led  them  abroade  thus  once  or  twise,  he  trayned 
+them  out  every  daye  a  litle  further,  to  make  them  to  be 
+bolde,  persuading  them  there  was  no  daunger.  But  at  the 
+length,  one  daye  having  gotten  all  the  cittizens  children 
+with  him,  he  led  them  within  the  watche  of  the  Romaines 
+campe,  and  there  delivered  all  his  scholers  into  their  handes, 
+and  prayed  them  they  would  bring  him  unto  their  generall. 
+So  they  did.  And  when  he  came  before  Camillus,  he  be- 
+ganne  to  tell  him  that  he  was  schoolemaster  unto  all  these 
+children,  nevertheles  that  he  dyd  more  esteeme  to  have  his 
+grace  and  favour,  then  regarde  his  office  he  had  by  this  name 
+and  title.  Camillus  hearing  what  he  sayed,  and.  beholding 
+his  threacherous  parte,  he  sayed  to  those  that  were  about  him  : 
+Warre  of  it  selfe  surely  is  an  evill  thing,  for  in  warres  many 
+injuries  and  mischieves  are  done:  nevertheles  among  good 
+men  there  is  a  law  and  discipline,  which  doth  forbid  them  to 
+seeke  victorie  by  wicked  and  traiterous  meanes,  and  that  a 
+noble  and  worthie  generall  should  make  warre,  and  procure 
+victorie,  by  trusting  to  his  own  valliantnes,  and  not  by 
+anothers  vilenes  and  villanie.  Therefore  he  commaunded  his 
+sergeants  to  teare  the  clothes  of  the  backe  of  this  vile  schoole- 
+master, and  to  binde  his  hands  behinde  him :  and  that  they 
+should  geve  the  children  roddes  and  whippes  in  their  handes, 
+to  whippe  the  traitour  backe  againe  into  the  cittie,  that  had 
+thus  betrayed  them,  and  grieved  their  parents.  Now  when 
+the  Falerians  heard  newes  that  the  schoolemaster  had  thus 
+betrayed  them,  all  the  cittie  fell  a  weeping  (as  every  man 
+maye  thinke  for  so  great  a  losse)  and  men  and  women  ranne 
+together  one  in  anothers  necke,  to  the  town  walles,  and 
+gates  of  the  cittie,  like  people  out  of  their  wittes,  they  were 
+so  troubled.  When  they  came  thither,  they  saw  their 
+children  bringing  their  schoolemaster  backe  againe,  starcke 
+332 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+naked  and  bownde,  whipping  of  him,  and  calling  Camillas      FURIUS 
+their  father,  their  god,  and  their  saviour :  so  that  not  only    CAMILLUS 
+the  fathers  and  mothers  of  the  children,  but  all  other  the 
+cittizens  also   in   generall,  dyd  conceyve  in  them  selves  a 
+wonderfuU   admiration   and   great   love,   of  the   wisedome, 
+goodnes,  and  justice  of  Camillus.     So  that  even  presently 
+they  called  a  counsaill,  and  there  it  was  concluded   they  TheFaliscians 
+should  send  ambassadours  forthwith  unto  him,  to  put  their  by  their  am- 
+lives  and  goodes  to  his  mercy  and  favour.     Camillus  sent  ^^ssadours 
+their  ambassadours  unto  Rome,  where  audience  being  geven  them  selves 
+unto  them  by  the  Senate,  the  ambassadours  sayed :   Bicause  and  goodes 
+the  Romaines  preferred  justice  above  victorie,  they  taught  unto  Camil- 
+them  to  be  better  contented  to  submit  them  selves  unto  ^'^^• 
+them,  then  to  be  their  own  men  at  libertie  :  confessing  their  The  message 
+vertue  dyd  more  overcome  them,  then  any  force  or  power  of  the  ambas- 
+could  doe.     The  Senate  dispatched  letters  unto  Camillus,  FalSns*^^ 
+giving  him  commission  to  doe  and  determine  as  he  thought  mj^o  the 
+good.     So  he  having  taken  a  certen  summe  of  money  of  the  Romaines. 
+Falerians,  dyd  furthermore  make  peace  and  league  with  all  Camillus 
+the   rest   of  the   Falisces :    and  thereupon  returned  backe  tookeasumme 
+againe  to  Rome.     But  the  souldiers  grudged  marvelously  at  ^^  money  of 
+it.     For  they  stoode  in  hope  to  have  had  the  sacking  of  the  31,^  mide^"^' 
+cittie.     When  there  was  no  remedie,  but  they  must  needes  peace  with  all 
+returne  home  emptie  handed,  they  beganne  to  accuse  Camillus  the  rest  of  the 
+to  the  rest  of  the  cittizens,  as  sone  as  they  came  to  Rome,  Falisces. 
+saying :  he  loved  not  the  common  people,  and  howe  for  spite 
+he  disapointed  their  army  of  the  spoyle.      On  the  other 
+side,  the  Tribunes  of  the  people  beganne  to  revive  the  lawe, 
+for  the  deviding  of  the  inhabitants  of  Rome,  and  were  ready 
+to  passe  it  by  the  voyces  of  the  people.    Camillus  not  fearing 
+the  ill  will  of  the  commons,  dyd  boldely  speake,  and  doe  in 
+open  presence,  all  he  could  against  it.     So  that  plainely  he 
+was  the  chiefest  cause,  that  the  people  against  their  willes 
+(intreate  what  they  could)  were  driven  to  let  it  alone.     But 
+withall  they  were  so  spitefull  against  him,  that  notwithstand- 
+ing his  sorowe  and  misfortune  for  the  death  of  his  sonne 
+(dying  of  a  sickenes)  was  great :  they  would  not  of  malice 
+once  take  pittie  or  compassion  of  him.     The  losse  whereof 
+(albeit  he  was  of  a  very  good  and  curteous  nature)  was  so 
+
+333 
+
+
+FURIUS 
+CAMILLUS 
+
+Lucius  Apu- 
+leius  accused 
+Camillus. 
+
+
+The  equitie  of 
+the  Romaiues 
+who  would 
+not  pervert 
+the  lawe 
+though  they 
+dearely  loved 
+Camillus:  but 
+willingly 
+oflFeredtopaye 
+his  fine. 
+
+Camillus 
+prayer  before 
+his  departure 
+out  of  Rome. 
+
+
+Camillus  exil- 
+eth  him  selfe 
+from  Rome. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+grievous,  and  made  him  so   unquiet :    that  being  accused 
+before  the  people,  he  sturred  not  once  out  of  his  house,  but 
+was  locked   up  with    the  women,  which   lamented   for   his 
+Sonne  departed.     He  that  dyd  accuse  him,  was  one  Lucius 
+Apuleius,  burdening  him  that  he  had  stolen  and  taken  awaye, 
+parte  of  the  spoyle  of  the  Thuscans :  and  sayed,  they  had 
+seene  certen  brasen   gates   at   his   house,  which  had  bene 
+brought  out  of  Thuscan.     Nowe  the  people  were  so  mali- 
+ciously bent  against  him,  that  every  man  might  see,  if  they 
+could  once  take  him  in  a  trippe,  upon  any  advantage  what- 
+soever, they  would  douteles  have  condemned  him.     Where- 
+fore  calling   together  his  friendes  and  souldiers  .that  had 
+served  under  him  in  the  warres,  or  that  had  taken  charge 
+with  him,  which  were  many  in  number :  he  earnestly  besought 
+them,  that  they  would  not  suffer  him  thus  vilely  to  be  con- 
+demned, through  false  and  unjust  accusations  layed  against 
+him,  nor  to  be  so  scorned  and  defamed  by  his  enemies.     His 
+friends  having  layed  their  heades  together,  and   consulted 
+thereupon,  made  him  aunswer:  howe  for  his  judgment  they 
+could  not  remedy  it,  but  if  he  were  condemned,  they  would 
+all  joyne  together  with  a  very  goodwill,  to  helpe  to  paye  his 
+fine.     But  he  being  of  minde  not  to  beare  such  an  open 
+shame  and  ignominie,  determined  in  choller  to  leave  the 
+cittie,  and  to  exile  him  selfe  from  it.     And  after  he  had 
+taken  his  leave  of  his  wife  and  children,  bidding  them  fare- 
+well :  he  went  out  of  his  house  to  the  gates  of  the  cittie,  and 
+sayed    never   a  word.     When  he  came  thither,   he  stayed 
+sodainely,  and  returning  backe  againe,  he  lift  up  his  hands 
+towards  the  CapitoU,  and  made  his  prayers  unto  the  godds : 
+that  if  it  were  of  very  spight  and  malice,  and  not  of  just 
+deserving,  that   the   common   people   compelled   him    thus 
+shamefully  to  forsake  the  cittie,  that  the  Romaines  might 
+quickely  repente  them,  and  in  the  face  of  the  worlde  might 
+wishe  for  him,  and  have  nede  of  him.     After  he  had  made 
+these  prayers  against  the  cittizens  (as  Achilles  dyd  against 
+the  Grecians)  he  went  his  way,  and  was  condemned  for  his 
+contempte,  m  the  summe  of  fifteene  thousand  Asses  of  the 
+Romaine  coyne,  which  make  of  Greekishe  money,  a  thousand 
+five  hundred  Drachmas  of  silver :  for  an  As  was  a  litle  pece 
+334 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+of  money,  wherof  tenne  of  them  made  a  Romaine  penney.      FURIUS 
+Howbeit  there  was  not  a  Romaine  of  any  understanding,  but    CAMILLUS 
+beleeved  certenly  that  some  great  punishment  would  followe 
+them  incontinently,  and  that  the  wrong  and  injurie  they  had 
+done  him  would  be  quickely  requited,  with  some  most  sharpe 
+and  terrible  revenge,  not  only  unpleasaunt  to  thinke  upon, 
+but  further  most  notable  to  be  spoken  of  through  the  world. 
+There  fell  out  so  sodainely  upon  it,  such  mischief  toward  the 
+cittie  of  Rome,  and  the  present  time  also  brought  forth  such 
+occasion  of  daunger  and  destruction  thereof,  to  their  shame 
+and  infamie  :  that  it  was  uncertaine  whether  it  happened  by 
+chaunce,  or  els  it  was  the  handie  worcke  of  some  god,  that 
+would  not  suffer  vertue  recompenced  with   ingratitude,  to 
+passe  unrevenged.      Their  first  token  that  threatned  some  Tokens  of  the 
+great  mischief  to  light  upon  them,  was  the  death  of  lulius,  ^firres  of  the 
+one  of  the  Censors :  for  the  Romaines  doe  greately  reverence     ^^  ^^' 
+the  office  of  a  Censor,  and  esteeme  it  as  a  sacred  place.     The 
+seconde  token  that  happened  a  litle  before  Camillus  exile, 
+was  :  that  one  Marcus  Caeditius,  a  man  but  of  meane  qualitie, 
+and  none  of  the  Senatours  (but  otherwise  a  fayer  conditioned 
+honest   man,    and    of  good   conscience)  tolde   the    Tribuni 
+milttares  of  a  thing  that  was  to  be  well  considered  of.     For 
+he  sayed  that  the  night  before,  as  he  was  going  on  his  waye 
+in  the  newe  streete,  he  heard   one  call    him  alowde :    and 
+returning   backe   to   see  what   it   was,  he   sawe   no   living 
+creature,  but  only  heard  a  voyce  bigger  then  a  mans,  which 
+sayed  unto  him  :  Marcus  Caeditius,  goe  thy  waye  to  morrowe 
+morning   to   the    Tribuni   militareSy   and   byd   them    looke 
+quickely  for  the  Gaules.     The  Tribunes  were  mery  at  the 
+matter,  and  made  but  a  jeast  at  his  warning,  and  straight 
+after   followed   the    condemnation   of    Camillus.     Nowe   as 
+touching   the    Gaules.     They  came  (as  they  saye)  of  the  The  originall 
+Celtae,    whose    country   not   being   able    to    mainteine    the  heginning  of 
+multitudes    of  them,  they  were  driven  to  goe  seeke  other      ^  '^auies. 
+countryes  to  inhabite  in :   and  there  were  amongest  them 
+many  thousands  of  young  men  of  service  and  good  souldiers, 
+but  yet  more  women  and  litle  children  by  a  great  number. 
+Of  these  people,  some  of  them  went  towards  the  north  sea, 
+passing  the  mountaines  Riphei,  and  dyd  dwell  in  the  extreme 
+
+335 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+
+FURIUS 
+CAMILLUS 
+
+
+Arron  a 
+Thuscan  the 
+procurer  of 
+the  Gaules 
+comming  into 
+Italic. 
+
+
+Lacke  of 
+justice,  the 
+cause  of  the 
+destruction 
+and  conquest 
+of  Thuscan  by 
+the  Gaules. 
+
+The  power  of 
+the  Thuscans 
+in  olde  time. 
+
+
+partes  of  Europe.  Other  of  them  remained  betwene  the 
+mountaines  Pirenei,  and  the  greatest  mountaines  of  the 
+Alpes,  neere  unto  the  Senones,  and  the  Celtorii.  There 
+they  continued  a  long  time,  untill  they  fortuned  in  the  ende 
+to  taste  of  the  wine,  which  was  first  brought  out  of  Italic 
+unto  them.  Which  drinke  they  found  so  good,  and  were  so 
+delited  with  it,  that  sodainely  they  armed  themselves :  and 
+taking  their  wives  and  children  with  them,  they  went  directly 
+towards  the  Alpes,  to  goe  seeke  out  the  country  that  brought 
+forth  such  fruite,  judging  all  other  countries  in  respect  of 
+that,  to  be  but  wilde  and  barren.  It  is  sayed,  that  the  first 
+man  which  brought  wine  unto  them,  and  that  dyd  procure 
+them  to  passe  into  Italic,  was  a  noble  man  of  Thuscan  called 
+Arron,  and  otherwise  of  no  ill  disposed  nature :  howbeit  he 
+was  subject  to  this  misfortune  following.  He  was  tutor  unto 
+an  orphan  childe,  the  richest  that  was  at  that  time  in  all 
+the  countrie  of  Thuscan,  and  of  complexion  was  wonderfull 
+fayer :  he  was  called  Lucumo.  This  orphan  was  brought  up 
+in  Arrons  house  of  a  childe,  and  though  he  was  growen  to 
+mans  state,  yet  he  would  not  goe  from  him,  fayning  he  was 
+so  well,  and  to  his  liking.  But  in  deede  the  cause  was,  that 
+he  loved  his  maistres  (Arrons  wife)  whom  secretly  he  had 
+enjoyed  a  long  time,  and  she  him,  that  made  him  like  his 
+continuance  there.  Howbeit  in  the  ende,  love  having  so 
+possessed  them  both,  that  neither  parte  could  withdrawe 
+from  other,  much  lesse  culler  that  they  had  long  enjoyed : 
+the  young  man  stole  her  away  from  him,  and  kept  her  still 
+by  force.  Arron  put  him  in  sute,  but  he  prevayled  not :  for 
+Lucumo  overweyed  him  with  friends,  money,  giftes,  and 
+charges.  But  he  tooke  it  so  grevously,  that  he  left  his 
+country :  and  having  heard  talke  of  the  Gaules,  he  went 
+unto  them,  and  was  their  guide  to  bring  them  into  Italic. 
+So  they  conquered  at  their  first  coming  all  that  country 
+which  the  Thuscans  helde  in  olde  time,  beginning  at  the 
+foote  of  the  mountaines,  and  stretched  out  in  length  from 
+one  sea  unto  the  other  which  environneth  Italic,  as  the  names 
+them  selves  doe  witnesse.  For  they  call  yet  that  sea  which 
+looketh  unto  the  northe,  the  Adriatick  sea :  by  reason  of  a 
+cittie  built  sometime  by  the  Thuscans,  which  was  called 
+336 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+Adria.     The  other,  which  lieth  directly  over  against  the      FURIUS 
+South,  is  called  the  Thuscan  sea.     All  that  countrie  is  well    CAMILLUS 
+planted  with  trees,  and  hath  goodly  pleasaunt  pastures  for 
+beastes  and  cattell  to  feede  in,  and  is  notably  watered  with 
+goodly  ronning  rivers.    There  was  also  at  that  time  eighteene 
+fayer  great  citties  in  that  country,  all  of  them  very  strong 
+and  well  seated,  aswell  for  to  enriche  the  inhabitants  thereof 
+by  traffike,  as  to  make  them  to  live  delicately  for  pleasure. 
+All  these  citties  the  Gaules  had  wonne,  and  had  expulsed 
+the  Thuscans,  but  this  was  done  long  time  before.     Now  the 
+Gaules  being  further  entred  into  Thuscan,  dyd  besiege  the 
+cittie  of  Clusium.     Thereupon  the  Clusians  seeking  ayde  of  Clusium  a 
+the  Romaines,  besought  them  they  would  send  letters  and  cittieofThus- 
+ambassadours  unto  these  barbarous  people  in  their  favour.  ^vtheGaules 
+They  sent  unto  them  three  of  the  best  and  most  honorable    * 
+persones  of  the  cittie,  all  three  of  the  house  of  the  Fabians. 
+The  Gaules  receyved  them  very  curteously,  bicause  of  the 
+name  of  Rome :  and  leaving  to  assaulte  the  cittie,  they  gave 
+them  audience.    The  Romaine  ambassadours  dyd  aske  them, 
+what  injurie  the  Clusians  had  done  unto  them,  that  they 
+came  to  make  warres  with   them.      Brennus    king   of  the  Brennus  king 
+Gaules,  hearing  this  question,  smiled,  and  aunswered  them  of  the  Gaules. 
+thus :  The  Clusians  doe  us  wrong  in  this :  they  being  but 
+fewe  people  together,  and  not  able  to  occupie  much  lande, 
+doe  notwithstanding  possesse  much,  and  will  let  us  have  no 
+parte  with  them,  that  are  straungers,  and  out  of  our  country, 
+and   stande    in   neede   of  seate  and  habitation.     The  like 
+wrong  was  offered  unto  you  Romaines  in  old  time,  by  those 
+of  Alba,  by  the  Fidenates,  and  the  Ardeates :  and  not  long 
+sithence,  by  the  Veians,  and  the  Capenates :  and  partly  by 
+the  Falisces  and  the  Volsces :  against  whom  ye  have  taken, 
+and  doe  take  armes,  at  all  times.     And  as  ofte  as  they  will 
+let  ye   have   no   parte   of  their   goods,  ye   imprison   their 
+persones,  robbe  and  spoyle  their  goodes,  and  distroye  their 
+citties.     And  in  doing  this,  ye  doe  them  no  wrong  at  all, 
+but  followe  the  oldest  lawe  that  is  in  the  worlde,  which  ever 
+leaveth   unto  the  stronger,  that  which  the  weaker  can  not 
+keepe  and  enjoye.     Beginning  with  the  goddes,  and  ending 
+with  beastes :  the  which  have  this  propertie  in  nature,  that 
+2U  337 
+
+
+FURIUS 
+CAMILLUS 
+
+
+Fabius 
+Ambustus 
+a  Romaine, 
+breaketh  the 
+common  lawe 
+of  all  nations. 
+
+
+Brennus 
+reproveth 
+Fabius  for 
+breaking  the 
+lawe  of  arm es. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+the  bigger  and  stronger  have  ever  the  vauntage  of  the 
+weaker  and  lesser.  Therefore,  leave  your  pittie  to  see  the 
+Clusians  besieged,  least  you  teache  us  Gaules  to  take  com- 
+passion also  of  those  you  have  oppressed.  By  this  aunswer 
+the  Romaines  knewe  very  wel,  there  was  no  waye  to  make 
+peace  with  king  Brennus.  Wherefore  they  entred  into  the 
+cittie  of  Clusium,  and  incoraged  the  inhabitants  to  salye  out 
+with  them  upon  these  barbarous  people :  either  bicause  they 
+had  a  desire  to  prove  the  valliantnes  of  the  Gaules,  or  els 
+to  shewe  their  owne  corage  and  manhoode.  So  the  cittizens 
+went  out,  and  skirmished  with  them  harde  by  the  walles  : 
+in  the  which  one  of  the  Fabians,  called  Quintus  Fabius 
+Ambustus,  being  excellently  well  horsed,  and  putting  spurres 
+to  him,  dyd  set  upon  a  goodly  bigge  personage  of  the  Gaules, 
+that  had  advaunced  him  selfe  farre  before  all  the  troupe  of 
+his  companions.  He  was  not  knowen  at  the  first  encounter, 
+as  well  for  the  sodaine  meeting  and  skirmishing  together,  as 
+for  that  his  glistering  armour  dimmed  the  eyes  of  the 
+enemies.  But  after  he  had  slaine  the  Gaule,  and  came  to 
+strippe  him  :  Brennus  then  knewe  him,  and  protested  against 
+him,  calling  the  goddes  to  witnesse,  howe  he  had  broken  the 
+lawe  of  armes,  that  coming  as  an  ambassadour,  he  had  taken 
+upon  him  the  forme  of  an  enemie.  Hereupon  Brennus  forth- 
+with left  skirmishing,  and  raising  the  seige  from  Clusium, 
+marched  with  his  army  unto  Rome  gates.  And  to  the  ende 
+the  Romaines  might  knowe,  that  the  Gaules  were  not  well 
+pleased  for  the  injurie  they  had  receyved :  to  have  an  honest 
+culler  to  beginne  warres  with  the  Romaines,  he  sent  an 
+Herauld  before  to  Rome,  to  demaunde  liverie  of  the  man 
+that  had  offended  him,  that  he  might  punish  him  accordingly. 
+In  the  meane  time,  he  him  selfe  came  marching  after,  by 
+small  journeys  to  receyve  their  aunswer.  The  Senate  here- 
+upon assembled,  and  many  of  the  Senatours  blamed  the 
+rashnes  of  the  Fabians :  but  most  of  all,  the  priestes  called 
+Faeciales.  For  they  followed  it  very  earnestly,  as  a  matter 
+that  concerned  religion,  and  the  honour  of  the  godds : 
+declaring  how  the  Senate,  in  discharge  of  all  the  residue  of 
+the  cittie  of  the  offence  committed,  should  laye  the  whole 
+waight  and  burden  of  it  upon  him  alone,  that  only  had  done 
+338 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+the  facte.     Numa  Pompilius,  the  justest  and  most  peaceable       FURIUS 
+of  all  the  kings  of  Rome  that  had  bene,  was  he  that  first    CAMILLUS 
+erected  the  colledge  of  these  Faeciales,  and  dyd  ordeine  that  Numa  Pom- 
+they  should  be  the  keepers  of  peace,  and  the  judges  to  heare  pilius  erected 
+and  alio  we  all  the  causes,  for  the  which  they  should  justely  of^h^p^c^a 
+beginne  any  warres,     Nevertheles,  the  Senate  in  the  ende  igg. 
+turned  over  the  ordering  of  the  matter,  unto  the  whole  will 
+and  judgment  of  the  people,  before  whom    these  priestes 
+Faeciales  dyd  also  accuse  Fabius  Ambustus.    The  people  made 
+so  litle  accompt  of  their  propounded  religion,  and  honour  of 
+the  godds  in  that  case :  that  in  stede  of  delivering  of  this 
+Fabius  unto  the  enemy,  they  dyd  choose  him  for  one  of  the 
+Tribunes  of  the  souldiers  with   his  brothers.     The  Gaules 
+understanding  this,  were  so  furious  and  angrie  thereat,  that 
+they  would  no  lenger  linger  their  journeis,  but  marched  with  The  Gaules 
+all  spede  unto  Rome.     The  people  that  dwelt  by  the  high  marche  to- 
+wayes  where  they  should  passe  by,  were  marvelously  affrayed  ^^^ 
+to  see  the  multitude  of  them,  and  their  brave  and  universall 
+furniture :  and  beginning  to  doubt  the  furie  of  their  rage, 
+they  imagined  first  of  all  that  they  would  destroye  all  the 
+champion  country  before  them,  and  afterwardes  would  take 
+all  the  strong  citties.     They  contrariwise  dyd  take  nothing 
+at  all  out  of  the  fieldes,  neither  dyd  any  hurte  or  displeasure 
+unto  any  bodie  :  but  passing  by  their  citties,  cried  out  they 
+went  to  Rome,  and  would  have  no  warres  but  with    the 
+Romaines,  and  howe  otherwise  they  desired  to  be  friendes 
+with  all  the  worlde.     These  barbarous  people  marching  on 
+in  this  wise  towards  Rome,  the  Tribunes  of  the  souldiers 
+brought  their  army  to  the  field  to  encounter  them.     They 
+were  no  lesse  in  number  then  the  Gaules,   for  they  were 
+fourty  thousand  footemen.    Howbeit  most  part  of  them  were  TheRomaiues 
+rawe  souldiers,  that  had  never  served  in  the  warres  before,  am^ie  were 
+They  were   very   careles   of  the   goddes,  and    dissolute   in  °^  ®" 
+
+matters  of  religion  :  for  they  passed  neither  for  good  signes 
+in  their  sacrifices,  neither  to  aske  counsaill  of  their  soothe- 
+sayers,  which  the  Romaines  were  religiously  wont  to  doe, 
+before  they  gave  any  battaill.  To  make  the  matter  worse  : 
+the  number  of  the  captaines  having  power  and  authoritie 
+alike,  dyd  asmuche  (or  more  then   the  rest)  disorder  and 
+
+339 
+
+
+FURIUS 
+CAMILLUS 
+
+To  many 
+rulers  of  an 
+armie,  doe 
+confound  all 
+order,  and 
+putteth  the 
+armyin  perill. 
+
+
+Alliafl. 
+
+
+The  battell  at 
+the  river  of 
+Allia  where 
+the  Gaules 
+wanne  the 
+field  of  the 
+Romaines. 
+
+
+300  of  a  name 
+slaine  in  one 
+daye. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+confounde  their  doings.  For  ofte  times  before,  in  farre 
+lesser  matters  and  daungers  then  these,  they  dyd  use  to 
+chuse  speciall  officers  that  had  sole  and  soveraine  authoritie, 
+which  they  called  Dictators  :  knowing  very  well  of  how  great 
+importance  it  is,  in  daungerous  times  to  have  but  one  head 
+and  generall,  to  commaund  all,  and  to  have  supreme  authori- 
+tie of  justice  in  his  hands,  and  not  to  be  bound  to  deliver 
+accompt  of  his  doings  to  any.  The  injury  also  which  they 
+had  to  ungratefully  done  to  Camillus,  brought  great  mischief 
+and  inconvenience  then  upon  them.  For  the  captaines  after 
+him,  durst  no  more  commaunde  the  people  roughly,  but  ever 
+after  dyd  flatter  them  much.  When  their  army  was  nowe 
+brought  into  the  field,  they  encamped  them  selves  by  a  litle 
+river  called  Allia,  about  the  eleventh  stone  from  Rome,  and 
+not  farre  from  the  place  where  the  same  river  falleth  into 
+Tyber.  Thither  came  the  barbarous  army  to  them,  who 
+overthrew  them  in  battell,  by  their  disorder  and  lacke  of 
+government.  For  the  left  pointe  or  winge  of  their  battell 
+was  broken  of  at  the  first  by  the  Gaules,  who  charged  them 
+so  furiously,  that  they  drave  them  hedlong  into  the  river. 
+The  right  wing  then  retiring  out  of  the  plain,  before  they 
+had  any  charge  geven,  and  having  gotten  certen  hilles  hard 
+by  them  :  they  had  litle  hurte,  and  most  of  them  saving 
+them  selves,  did  recover  Rome  again.  The  rest  that  escaped 
+after  the  enemies  were  weary  of  killing,  fled  by  night  unto 
+the  cittie  of  Veies,  thinking  Rome  had  bene  lost,  and  all  the 
+cittie  put  to  the  sword.  This  overthrowe  was  on  the  longest 
+daye  in  sommer,  the  moone  being  at  the  full :  and  the  daye 
+before  fortuned  the  great  slaughter  of  the  Fabians,  of  the 
+which  were  slaine  by  the  Thuscans  in  one  daye  300  all  of  a 
+name.  The  very  daye  it  self  was  afterwards  called  Alliade, 
+of  the  name  of  the  litle  river,  by  the  which  the  2  overthrow 
+was  geven.  But  for  the  difference  of  dayes,  that  some  of 
+them  are  naturally  unfortunate,  or  that  Heraclitus  the 
+philosopher  had  reason  to  reprove  the  poet  Hesiodus,  for 
+making  some  days  good,  and  some  dayes  ill,  as  though  he 
+understood  they  were  not  all  of  one  nature  :  we  have  written 
+and  declared  our  opinion  therof  in  other  places.  Yet, 
+bicause  the  matter  delivereth  present  occasion  to  speake  of 
+340 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+the  same,  perad venture  it  wil  not  be  amisse  to  alleage  a  few  FURIUS 
+examples  of  it  only.  It  fortuned  the  Boeotians  on  a  time  to  CAMILLUS 
+winne  two  honorable  victories,  on  the  first  daye  of  the 
+moneth  they  call  Hippodromus  (and  which  the  Athenians 
+call  Hecatomhceon)  that  is  now  the  moneth  of  lune,  by 
+cither  of  the  which  they  did  still  restore  the  Grecians  to 
+their  libertie.  The  first  was  the  battell  of  Leuctres.  The 
+second  was  the  battell  of  Geraste,  which  was  two  hundred 
+yeres  before,  when  they  overcame  Lattamias,  and  the  Thes- 
+salians  in  battell.  The  Persians  contrarily  were  overcome 
+in  battail  by  the  Grecians,  the  sixt  daye  of  August,  at  the 
+jomey  of  Marathon.  The  third  day,  at  the  battell  of 
+Platees.  And  on  the  selfe  same  daye,  neere  unto  Mycala. 
+On  the  five  and  twenty  daye,  at  the  fight  of  Arbeles,  the 
+Athenians  wanne  the  battell  by  sea,  neere  unto  He  of  Naxos, 
+under  the  charge  and  government  of  Chabrias,  about  the 
+full  of  the  moone,  in  the  moneth  of  August.  And  on  the 
+twenty  of  the  same  moneth,  they  wanne  the  battell  of  Sala- 
+mina:  as  we  have  written  more  amplie  in  our  historic  of 
+difference  of  dayes.  The  moneth  of  Aprill  also  brought  to 
+the  barbarous  people  many  notable  losses.  For  Alexander 
+the  great,  overcame  the  generall  of  the  king  of  Persia,  at 
+the  fielde  of  Granica,  in  the  sayed  moneth.  The  Cartha- 
+ginians also  were  vanquished  in  Sicile  by  Timoleon,  on  the 
+seven  and  twenty  daye  thereof.  On  which  daye  also  it  is 
+thought  the  cittie  of  Troye  was  taken :  as  Ephorus,  Callis- 
+thenes,  Damastes,  and  Phylarchus,  have  written  in  their 
+histories.  Nowe  contrariwise.  The  moneth  of  lulye,  which 
+the  Boeotians  call  Panemus,  hath  not  bene  gratious  to  the 
+Grecians.  For  on  the  seven  daye  of  the  same,  they  were 
+overthrowen  by  Antipater  at  the  battell  of  Cranon,  which 
+was  their  utter  destruction.  They  had  before  also  lost  a 
+battell  the  same  moneth,  neere  unto  the  cittie  of  Chaeronea, 
+by  king  Phillippe.  On  the  same  daye  also,  and  in  the  very 
+self  moneth  and  yere,  those  which  came  into  Italic  with 
+king  Archidamus,  were  slaine  every  one  of  them,  by  the 
+barbarous  people  of  the  country.  The  Carthaginians  also 
+feare  the  seven  and  twenty  daye  of  the  same  moneth,  as  the 
+daye  which  had  before  time  brought  them  into  manv  great 
+
+'341 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+FURIUS      and   sorowfull   calamities.     Contrarilie  also,  I  knowe  very 
+CAMILLUS    well,  how  about  the  feast  of  mysteries,  the  cittie  of  Thebes 
+was  destroyed  by  Alexander,  and  that  the  Athenians  were 
+compelled  to  receyve  a  garrison  of  souldiers  into  their  cittie, 
+about  the  twenty  daye  of  August,  at  which  time  they  made 
+the  holie  procession  of  the  mysteries  of  lacchus.     And  on 
+the  self  day  the  Romaines  lost  their  armie,  and  their  generall 
+Caepio,  who  was  slaine  by  the  Cimbres.     And  how  after- 
+wards under  the  leading  of  Lucullus,  they  overcame  Tigranes, 
+and  the  Armenians.     And  that  Attains,  and  Pompey  also, 
+dyed   both  on  the  selfe  same  daye  they  were  borne.     To 
+conclude,  infinite  examples  of  men  might  be  brought,  unto 
+whom  after  like  revolutions  of  time,  there  happened  notable 
+chaunces  of  good  or  ill.     But  to  retume  againe  unto  our 
+historie.     The  daye  of  this  overthrowe,  is  one  of  those  which 
+The  Romaines  the  Romaines  take  for  one  of  the  unfortunatest  dayes  that 
+superstition      ever  came  unto  them.     And  by  reason  of  that  day,  they 
+m  observing     reckon  two  other  dayes  of  every  moneth  very  unfortunate, 
+"  engendred  through  feare  and  superstition,  which  spreadeth 
+
+farre  (as  commonly  it  doth)  upon  such  sinister  misfortunes. 
+But  for  this  matter,  we  have  written  it  more  largely  and 
+exquisitly  in  the  booke  we  made,  of  the  ceremonies  and 
+customes  of  the  Romaines.  Now  after  this  battell  lost,  if 
+the  Gaules  had  hottely  pursued  the  chase  of  their  flying 
+enemies,  nothing  could  have  saved  Rome  from  being  taken, 
+and  the  inhabitants  therof  from  being  put  unto  the  sword. 
+For  the  Romaines  that  fled  from  the  battell,  brought  such  a 
+feare  upon  those  that  receyved  them,  and  filled  the  whole 
+cittie  of  Rome  with  such  greif  and  trembling :  that  they 
+wist  not  what  to  doe.  The  barbarous  people  againe,  beleev- 
+ing  litle  their  victorie  was  so  great  as  it  was,  fell  to  make 
+good  cheere  for  so  great  a  joye  received,  and  devided  among 
+them  the  spoyle  of  their  enemies  goods  they  found  in  the 
+campe.  So  gave  they  time  and  leysure  by  this  meanes,  to 
+the  multitude  of  people  that  fled  out  of  Rome,  to  seeke 
+them  some  place  of  safety :  and  to  such  as  remained  still, 
+they  left  good  hope  to  save  them  selves,  and  to  make  some 
+provision  for  defence.  Thereupon  they  all  fortified  them 
+selves  within  mount  Capitoll,  and  storing  it  with  all  kind  of 
+342 
+
+
+•  •?rir»rf»^»f»»'M'-»"*'^t'»» 
+
+
+GRECIANS   AND    ROMANES 
+
+vitaill,  armor,  and  munition,  they  wholy  dyd  forsake  the  FURIUS 
+rest  of  the  cittie.  But  the  first  worke  they  tooke  in  hande  CAMILLUS 
+was  this.  They  dyd  bring  into  their  sayed  forte,  parte  of 
+their  sacred  relickes :  and  the  professed  Vestalls  brought 
+thither  also  their  holy  fire  and  all  other  their  holy  monu-  The  holy  fier. 
+ments.  Some  writers  saye,  that  they  had  nothing  els  in 
+keeping,  but  the  sempiternall  fyer,  and  were  so  consecrated 
+by  king  Numa,  who  dyd  first  institute,  that  the  fyer  should 
+be  worshipped,  as  the  beginning  of  all  things.  For  that  it 
+is  the  most  motive  and  quickest  substance  that  is  of  all  The  force  of 
+naturall  things :  notwithstanding,  that  generation  also  is  a  ^Y^^- 
+moving,  or  at  the  least  not  done  without  motion.  For  we  see, 
+that  all  other  substance  which  lacketh  heate,  remaineth  idle, 
+and  without  action,  and  sturreth  not,  no  more  then  doth  a 
+dead  thing,  which  craveth  the  force  and  heate  of  fyre :  as 
+the  soule  it  selfe  recovering  heate,  beginneth  somewhat  to 
+move,  and  disposeth  it  selfe  to  doe,  and  suffer  some  thing. 
+Wherefore  Numa  being  (as  they  saye)  a  man  of  great  learn- 
+ing and  understanding,  who  for  his  wisedome  was  reported 
+to  talke  many  times  with  the  Muses,  dyd  consecrate  the 
+same  as  a  most  sacred  thing,  and  commaunded  that  they 
+never  should  suffer  that  fyre  to  goe  out,  and  but  keepe  it, 
+as  they  would  preserve  the  lively  image  of  the  etemall  God, 
+the  only  King  and  maker  of  the  worlde.  Other  saye,  that 
+the  fyer  bumed  continually  there  before  the  holy  and  sacred 
+things,  signifying  a  kinde  and  manner  of  purification,  which 
+opinion  the  Grecians  holde  also  :  howbeit  behinde  the  same 
+fyer,  there  were  certen  hidden  things,  which  in  no  case  any 
+might  see,  but  those  holy  Vestall  Nunnes.  Many  also  holde 
+an  opinion,  that  the  Palladium  of  Troye  (as  much  to  say,  as 
+Pallas  image)  is  hidden  also  there,  which  was  brought  by 
+Mneas  into  Italic.  Other  doe  reporte  also,  that  Dardanus, 
+at  that  time  when  he  first  beganne  to  buylde  the  cittie  of 
+Troye,  brought  thither  the  holy  images  of  the  goddes  of 
+Samothracia,  and  he  dyd  offer  them  up  there :  and  howe 
+iEneas  after  the  cittie  was  taken,  dyd  steale  them  awaye, 
+and  kept  them  untill  he  came  to  dwell  in  Italic.  Some 
+other  also,  that  take  upon  them  to  knowe  more  therein  then 
+the  common  sorte,  doe  holde  opinion,  that  there  are  two 
+
+343 
+
+
+FURIUS 
+CAMILLUS 
+
+
+Fabius  chief 
+bishoppe  of 
+Rome. 
+
+
+Rome  taken 
+of  the  Gaules. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+pipes  not  very  great,  whereof  the  one  is  emptie  and  standeth 
+open,  the  other  is  full  and  fast  locked  up,  howbeit  they  are 
+not  to  be  seene  but  by  these  holy  Nunnes.  Other  thincke 
+also,  that  these  imaginers  invented  that  they  spake  of  their 
+owne  heads,  bicause  the  Vestall  Nunnes  dyd  cast  all  that 
+they  could  put  in  at  that  time,  into  two  pipes,  which  they 
+buried  after  in  the  grounde,  within  the  temple  of  Quirinus : 
+and  herefore  that  very  place  carieth  the  surname  at  this 
+daye  of  pipes.  Howbeit  they  caried  about  them  the  most 
+precious  things  they  had,  and  fled  alongest  the  river.  Where 
+one  Lucius  Albinus  (one  of  the  common  people)  flying  also, 
+and  having  brought  away  his  wife  and  litle  chilclren,  and 
+other  household  stuffe  he  had  in  a  carte,  by  chaunce  he 
+lighted  upon  the  Vestall  Nunnes  in  the  waye.  But  so  sone 
+as  he  perceyved  these  holy  Nunnes  (carving  the  blessed 
+relickes  and  juells  in  their  armes,  dedicated  unto  the  service 
+of  the  goddes)  all  alone,  and  that  they  were  wearie  with 
+going  a  foote :  he  caused  his  wife  and  his  children  to  come 
+out  of  the  carte,  and  tooke  downe  all  his  goodes  also,  and 
+willed  them  to  get  them  up,  and  flye  into  some  cittie  or 
+towne  of  Grece.  Thus,  me  thought  I  could  not  well  passe 
+over  with  silence,  Albinus  reverence  and  devotion  he  shewed 
+unto  the  goddes,  in  so  daungerous  a  time  and  pinche  of 
+extremitie.  Furthermore  the  priests  of  other  goddes,  and 
+the  most  honorablest  olde  men  of  the  cittie  of  Rome  (that 
+had  bene  Consuls  before  time,  or  had  past  the  honour  of 
+triumphe)  had  not  the  harte  to  forsake  Rome :  but  putting 
+on  all  their  most  holy  robes  and  vestments  dyd  vowe,  and  as 
+it  were  willingly  sacrificed  them  selves  unto  the  fortune  that 
+should  befall  them,  for  the  safety  of  their  countrie.  And 
+using  certain  words  and  prayers  which  their  high  bishoppe 
+Fabius  had  taught  them,  they  went  even  thus  apparelled 
+into  the  great  market  place,  and  dyd  sit  them  downe  there, 
+in  chayers  of  ivory,  expecting  the  good  will  and  pleasure  of 
+the  godds  what  should  become  of  them.  But  with  in  three 
+dayes  after,  Brennus  came  to  Rome  with  his  army :  who 
+finding  the  gates  of  the  cittie  all  open,  and  the  walles  with- 
+out watche,  he  dowted  some  devise  in  it,  and  feared  some 
+privie  ambush  had  bene  layed,  as  one  hardly  beleeving  to 
+344 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+have  found  the  Romaines  of  so  base  a  mind,  as  to  forsake      FURIUS 
+their  cittie.     After  being  enformed  of  the  troth,  he  entred    CAMILLUS 
+into  Rome  by  the  gate  Collina,  and  tooke  the  same,  litle 
+more  then  three  hundred  and  three  score  yeres  after  it  was 
+first  builded :  if  it  be  true  at  the  least  there  hath  remained 
+any  certen  chronicles  of  those  times  unto  this  present  daye, 
+considering  the  trouble  and  confusion  of  that  time  hath 
+made   many  things    more  uncerteine   then   that,   dowtefull 
+unto  us.     But  so  it  was,  that  the  rumor  ranne  to  Grece 
+incontinently  howe  Rome  was  taken,  but  yet  withall  som- 
+what  doubtefully  and  uncertainely.    For  Heraclides  Ponticus 
+(who  was  about  that  time)  sayeth  in  a  certen  booke  he  wrote 
+of  the  soule,  that  there  was  newes  come  from  the  West  parte, 
+that  an  armie  which  came  from  the  Hyperborians,  had  taken 
+a  cittie  of  Grece  called  Rome,  situated  in  that  country  neere 
+the  great  sea.     But  I  wonder  not  that  Heraclides  (who  hath 
+written  so  many  other  fables  and  lyes)  dyd  amplifie  the  true 
+newes  of  the  taking  of  Rome,  with  adding  to  of  his  owne 
+devise,  of  the  Hyperborians,  and  by  the  great  sea.     It  is  a 
+most  true  tale,  that  Aristotle  the  philosopher  had  certain  Aristotles 
+knowledge  it  was  taken  by  the  Gaules :   howbeit  he  sayeth  testimonie  of 
+also  it  was  recovered  againe  afterwards  by  one  called  Lucius  :  p  fj^^g  ^°^  * 
+where  in  deede  it  was,  by  Marcus  Camillus,  and  not  by 
+Lucius.     But  all  this  in  manner  is  spoken  by  conjecture. 
+Moreover,  Brennus  being  entred  Rome,  dyd  appointe  parte 
+of  his  souldiers  to  besiege  those  which  were  gotten    into 
+mount  CapitoU.      And  he  with  the  residue  of  his  armie, 
+marched   on   towards  the   market  place :    where  when    he 
+saw  the  auncient  Senatours  set  so  gravely  in  their  chayers,  The  majestic 
+and  spake  never  a  word,  nor  offered   once  to  rise,  though  of  the  olde 
+they  saw  their  enemies  come  armed  towards  them,  neither  •   ^!t**^"^^  w 
+chaunged  countenance,  nor  culler  at  all,  but  leaned  softely  on  pi^^g  ^f 
+their  staves  they  had  in  their  hands,  seeming  to  be  nothing  Rome, 
+affrayed  nor  abashed,  but  looked  one  upon  another,  he  mar- 
+velously  wondred  at  it.     This  their  so  straunge  manner  at 
+the  first  dyd  so  dampe  the  Gaules,  that  for  a  space  they 
+stoode  still,  and  were  in  doubte  to  come  neere  to  touche 
+them,  fearing  least  they  had  bene  some  goddes  :  untill  suche 
+time,  as  one  of  them  went  boldely  unto  Marcus  Papyrius, 
+2X  345 
+
+
+FURIUS 
+CAMILLUS 
+
+
+The  cittie  of 
+Rome  rased  by 
+the  Gaules. 
+
+
+The  citie  of 
+Ardea. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+and  layed  his  hand  fayer  and  softely  upon  his  long  bearde. 
+But  Papyrius  gave  him  such  a  rappe  on  his  pate  with  his 
+staffe,  that  he  made  the  bloud  ronne  about  his  eares.  This 
+barbarous  beaste  was  in  such  a  rage  with  the  blowe,  that  he 
+drue  out  his  sworde,  and  slewe  him.  The  other  souldiers 
+also  killed  all  the  rest  afterwardes :  and  so  the  Gaules  con- 
+tinued many  dayes  spoyling  and  sacking  all  thinges  they 
+founde  in  the  houses,  and  in  the  ende  dyd  set  them  all  a 
+fyer,  and  destroyed  them  every  one,  for  despite  of  those 
+that  kept  the  forte  of  the  Capitoll,  that  would  not  yeld 
+upon  their  summons,  but  valliantly  repulsed  them  when 
+they  scaled  the  walles.  For  this  cause  they  rased  the  whole 
+cittie,  and  put  all  to  the  sworde  that  came  in  their  handes, 
+young  and  olde,  man,  woman,  and  childe.  Nowe  this  siege 
+continuing  long,  and  the  Romaines  holding  them  out  very 
+stowtely,  vittells  beganne  to  growe  scante  in  the  campe  of 
+the  Gaules,  in  so  much  as  they  were  driven  of  force  to  seeke 
+it  abroade  without  the  cittie.  Hereupon  they  devided  them 
+selves,  whereof  some  remained  still  with  the  King  at  the 
+siege  of  the  Capitoll :  and  the  rest  went  a  forraging,  and 
+spoyling  all  the  champion  countrie  and  villages  thereaboutes, 
+scattered  as  it  were  by  bandes  and  companies,  some  here, 
+some  there,  fearing  nothing,  nor  passing  upon  watch  or 
+warde,  they  lived  in  suche  securitie  of  their  victorie.  How- 
+beit  the  greatest  company  amongest  them,  went  by  fortune 
+towardes  the  cittie  of  Ardea,  where  Camillus  dwelt,  living 
+like  a  private  man,  medling  with  no  matters  of  state  from 
+the  time  of  his  exile,  untill  that  present  time.  But  then  he 
+beganne  not  to  bethinke  him  self  as  a  man  that  was  in  safety, 
+and  might  have  escaped  the  handes  of  his  enemies,  but  rather 
+sought  to  devise  and  finde  out  all  the  meanes  he  could  to 
+subdewe  them  if  occasion  were  so  offered.  Whereupon,  con- 
+sidering that  the  inhabitants  of  Ardea  were  enough  in  number 
+to  set  upon  them,  although  faynte  harted,  and  cowardly,  by 
+reason  of  the  slouth  and  negligence  of  their  govemours  and 
+captaines,  who  had  no  manner  of  experience  in  the  warres  : 
+he  beganne  to  cast  out  these  words  among  the  young  men. 
+That  they  should  not  thinke  the  Romaines  misfortune  fell 
+upon  them,  through  the  valliantnes  of  the  Gaules,  nor  that 
+346 
+
+
+•?r5rjfrft»T>T'T1»'f?»rjir»f||MJ 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+their  calamitie  (who  had  refused  good  counsaill)  had  hap-      FURIUS 
+pened  unto  them  by  any  worke  or  acte  of  the  Gaules,  having    CAMILLUS 
+done  nothing  for  their  parte  to  make  them  carie  awaye  the  Camillus 
+victorie  :  but  that  they  should  thinke,  it  was  no  other  thing,  hordes  unto 
+but   fortune   alone,    that  would   needes   shewe   her   power.  in^gxcusTof 
+Therefore,   that   it   were    nowe   a    notable   and    honorable  theRomaiues, 
+enterprise  (although  somewhat  daungerous)  to  drive  these 
+straungers  and  barbarous  people  out  of  their  countrie  :  con- 
+sidering that  the  only  ende  of  their  victorie  was,  but  to 
+destroye  and  consume  as  fire,  all  that  fell  into  their  hands. 
+Wherefore  if  they  would  but  only  take  a  good  lusty  harte 
+and  corage  unto   them,  he  would  with    opportunitie,  and 
+place,  assure  them  the  victorie,  without  any  daunger.     The 
+young  men  were  pleased  with  these  words  of  life  and  com- 
+forte.     Whereupon  Camillus  went  to  breake  the  matter  also  Camillus  per- 
+unto  the  magistrates  and  counsellours :  and  having  drawen  suadeth  the 
+them  by  persuasion  unto  this  enterprise,  he  armed  all  that  +ake^armes 
+were  of  age  to  carie  armor,  and  would  not  suffer  a  man  to  against  the 
+goe  out  of  the  cittie,  for  feare  least  the  enemies  (which  were  Gaules. 
+not  farre  of)  should  have  intelligence  of  the  same.      Now 
+after  the  Gaules  had  ronne  over  all  the  champion  countrie, 
+and  were  loden  with  all  sorts  of  spoyles,  they  did  encampe 
+them  selves  negligently  in  open  fields,  and  never  charged 
+Avatch  nor  warde  :  but  having  their  full  cariage  of  wine  layed 
+them  down  to  slepe,  and  made  no  noyse  at  all  in  their  campe. 
+Camillus  being   advertised  therof  by  his  severall  skowtes, 
+caused  the  Ardeans  with  as  little  noyse  as  might  be,  forth- 
+with to  goe  out  into  the  fields :  and  having  marched  som- 
+what  roundly  the  distance  betwene  the  cittie,  and  the  campe 
+of  the  Gaules,  they  came  thither  much  about  midnight. 
+Then  he  made  his  soldiers  make  great  showtes  and  cries, 
+and  the  trumpets  to  be  sounded  on  every  side,  to  put  a  . 
+
+feare  in  their  enemies,  who  yet  with  all  the  lowde  noyse  they 
+made,  could  hardly  be  made  to  wake,  they  were  so  deadly 
+dronke.  Yet  there  were  some  notwithstanding,  that  for  feare 
+to  be  taken  tardy,  dyd  bustle  up  at  this  sodaine  noyse : 
+and  coming  to  them  selves,  fell  to  their  weapons  to  resist 
+Camillus,  which  were  slayne  by  and  by.  The  rest,  and  the 
+greatest  number  of  them,  laye  here  and  there  scattered  in 
+
+347 
+
+
+FURIUS 
+CAMILLUS 
+
+Camillus  slue 
+the  Gaules 
+hard  by 
+Ardea. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+the  middest  of  the  field,  without  any  weapon,  dead  a  sleepe, 
+starcke  droncke  with  wine,  and  were  put  to  the  sworde,  and 
+never  strake  stroke.  Those  that  fled  out  of  the  campe  that 
+night  (which  were  but  fewe  in  number)  were  overthrowen 
+also  the  next  daye,  by  the  horse  men  which  followed  and 
+killed  them,  as  they  tooke  them  straggling  here  and  there  in 
+the  fieldes.  The  brute  of  this  victorie  was  blowen  abroade 
+incontinently  through  all  the  townes  and  villages  there- 
+abouts, which  caused  many  young  men  to  come  and  joyne 
+them  selves  to  Camillus  :  but  specially  the  Romaines  desired 
+the  same,  that  had  saved  them  selves  in  the  cittie  of  Veies, 
+after  the  battell  lost  at  Allia,  who  made  their  mones 
+amongest  them  selves  there,  saying :  O  goddes,  what  a  cap- 
+taine  hath  fortune  taken  from  the  cittie  of  Rome  ?  What 
+honour  hath  the  cittie  of  Ardea  by  the  valliantnes  and 
+worthy  deedes  of  Camillus :  and  in  the  meane  season,  his 
+naturall  cittie  that  brought  him  forth,  is  now  lost,  and 
+utterly  destroyed  ?  We,  for  lacke  of  a  captaine  to  leade  us, 
+are  shut  up  here  within  others  walles,  and  doe  nothing  but 
+suffer  Italie  in  the  meane  space  to  goe  to  ruine,  and  utter 
+destruction  before  our  eyes.  Why  then  doe  we  not  send  to 
+the  Ardeans  for  our  captaine .''  or  why  doe  we  not  arme  our 
+selves,  to  goe  unto  him  ?  For  he  is  nowe  no  more  a  banished 
+man,  nor  we  poore  cittizens :  since  our  cittie  is  possessed 
+with  the  forein  power,  of  our  hatefidl  enemies.  So  they  all 
+agreed  to  this  counsaill,  and  sent  unto  Camillus  to  beseche 
+him  to  be  their  captaine,  and  leade  them.  But  he  made 
+aunswer,  he  would  in  no  case  consent  unto  it,  unles  they  that 
+were  besieged  in  the  CapitoU  had  lawfully  first  confirmed  it 
+by  their  voyces.  For  those  (sayed  he)  so  long  as  they 
+remaine  within  the  cittie,  doe  represent  the  state  and  bodie 
+thereof.  Therefore  if  they  commaunded  him  to  take  this 
+charge  upon  him,  he  would  most  willingly  obey  them :  if 
+otherwise  they  misliked  of  it,  that  then  he  would  not  medle 
+against  their  good  willes  and  commaundement.  They  having 
+receaved  this  aunswer,  there  was  not  a  Romaine  amongest 
+them,  but  greatly  honored  and  extolled  the  wisedome  and 
+justice  of  Camillus.  But  nowe  they  knewe  not  how  to  make 
+them  privie  to  it,  that  were  besieged  in  the  Capitoll :  for  they 
+348 
+
+
+.•;'j'jf;vtj}r7:,tpjr,rjrfttin"n 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+sawe  no  possibilitie  to  convey  a  messenger  to  them :  con-      FURIUS 
+sideling  the  enemies  were  lordes  of  the  cittie,  and  layed  seige    CAMILLUS 
+to  it.     Howbeit  there  was  one  Pontius  Cominius  amongest  Pontius 
+the  young  men  (a  man  of  a  meane  house,  but  yet  desirous  of  Cominius  got 
+honour  and  glory)  that  offered  him  self  very  willingly  to  "P  \"*^^  the 
+venter  to  get  in  if  he  could.     So  he  tooke  no  letters  to  cary  Ro^e* 
+to  them  which  were  besieged,  for  feare  least  they  might  be 
+intercepted,  and  so  they  should  discover  Camillus  intention  : 
+but  putting  on   an  ill  favoured  gowne  upon  him,  he  con- 
+veyed certen  peces  of  corcke  under  it,  and  traveling  at  none 
+dayes   kept  on  his  waye  without  feare,  untill  he  came  to 
+Rome,  bringing   darke  night  with  him.     And  bicause  he 
+could  not  passe  over  the  bridge,  for  that  the  Barbarous 
+people  kept  watche  upon  it :  he  wrapped  such  clothes  as  he 
+had,  about  his  necke  (which  were  not  many,  nor  heavy)  and 
+tooke  the  river,  and  swimming  with  these  corcks  he  had 
+brought,  at  the  length  he  got  over  to  the  other  side  where 
+the  cittie  stoode.     Then  taking   up    those   lanes   allwayes 
+where  he  thought  the  enemies  were  not,  seeing  fire,  and 
+hearing  noyse  in  other  places,  he  went  to  the  gate  Carmen- 
+tale,  where  he  found  more  silence  then  in  other  places :  on 
+the  which  side  also,  the  hill  of  the  Capitoll  was  more  stepe 
+and  upright,  by  reason  of  the  great  rocks  that  were  harde  to 
+clime  up  upon.    But  he  digged  and  crept  up  so  long  amongest 
+them,  that  he  got  up  with  great  payn  unto  the  wall  of  the 
+fortresse,  on  the  which  side  also  the  enemie  kept  no  watch : 
+and  saluting  the  Avatche  of  the  Capitoll,  he  told  them  what 
+he  was.     So  they  plucked  him  up  unto  them,  and  brought 
+him  to  the  magistrates  that  ruled  then.     Who  caused  the 
+Senate  to  assemble  presently,  unto  whom  he  told  the  ncwcs 
+of  Camillus  victorie,  which  they  had  not  heard  of  before  : 
+and  therewith  also  he  dyd  declare  unto  them,  the  determina- 
+tion of  the  Romaine  souldiers  that  were  abroade,  which  was, 
+to  make  Camillus  their  captaine  and  general,  and  did  per- 
+suade them  also  to  graunt  him  the  charge,  for  that  he  was 
+the  only  man  abroad  whom  the  cittizens  gave  their  consents  „ 
+to  obey.     When  they  heard  this,  all  that  were  within  the  ch^en^icta- 
+Capitoll,  consulted  thereupon  amongest  them  selves,  and  so  tor  the  second 
+did  chuse  Camillus  Dictator,  and  returned  the  messenger  time. 
+
+349 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+FURIUS  Pontius  Cominius  backe  againe,  the  self  same  way  he  came  unto 
+CAMILLUS  them.  His  fortune  in  returning  backe,  was  like  unto  his 
+coming  thither :  for  the  enemies  never  sawe  him.  And  so  he 
+brought  reporte  unto  them  that  were  abroad,  of  the  Senates 
+decree  and  consent,  whereof  they  all  were  marvelous  glad. 
+Thus  came  Camillus  to  take  this  charge  of  generall  upon 
+him,  and  found  there  were  twenty  thousand  good  fighting 
+men  abroade,  and  well  armed.  Then  got  he  further  ayde 
+also  of  their  allies  and  confederates,  and  prepared  daylie  to 
+goe  and  set  upon  the  enemies.  So  was  Camillus  chosen  nowe 
+Dictator  the  seconde  time,  and  went  unto  the  cittie  of  Veies, 
+where  he  spake  with  the  Romaine  souldiers  that  were  there, 
+and  leavied  a  great  number  of  the  allies  besides,  to  goe  fight 
+with  the  enemies  as  sone  as  he  could.  But  whilest  CamiUus 
+was  thus  a  preparing,  certen  of  the  Barbarous  people  in 
+Rome,  walking  out  by  chaunce  on  that  side  of  the  Capitoll 
+where  Pontius  Cominius  had  gotten  up  the  night  before : 
+spied  in  divers  places  the  printes  of  his  feete  and  hands,  as 
+he  had  griped  and  gotten  holde,  still  digging  to  get  up,  and 
+sawe  the  weedes  and  erbes  also  growing  upon  the  rocks,  and 
+the  earth  in  like  manner,  flat  troden  down.  Whereupon 
+they  went  presently  unto  the  King,  to  let  him  understande 
+the  same :  who  forthwith  came  to  vewe  the  place.  And 
+having  considered  it  well,  he  dyd  nothing  at  that  time  :  but 
+when  darke  night  was  come,  he  called  a  companie  of  the 
+lightest  Gaules  together,  and  that  used  most  to  digge  in 
+mountaines,  and  sayed  unto  them  :  Our  enemies  them  selves 
+doe  shew  us  the  waye  how  to  take  them,  which  we  could  not 
+have  founde  out  but  by  them  selves.  For  they  having  gone 
+up  before  us,  doe  geve  us  easely  to  understande,  it  is  no  im- 
+possible thing  for  us  to  clime  up  also.  Wherefore,  we  were 
+utterly  shamed,  having  already  begonne  well,  if  we  should 
+fayle  also  to  end  well :  and  to  leave  this  place  as  unvincible. 
+For  if  it  were  easie  for  one  man  alone,  by  digging  to  clime  up 
+to  the  height  thereof:  much  lesse  is  it  harde  for  many  to  get  up 
+one  after  another,  so  that  one  doe  helpe  another.  Therefore 
+Syrs,  I  assure  you,  those  that  doe  take  paynes  to  get  up,  shalbe 
+honorably  rewarded,  according  to  their  just  deserte.  When 
+the  King  had  spoken  these  wordes  unto  the  Gaules,  they  fell 
+350 
+
+
+'•♦rr»r^«t»"»*'T1»'?f»*t»»'t 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+to  it  lustely  every  man  to  get  up  :  and  about  midnight,  they 
+beganne  many  of  them  to  digge,  and  make  stepps  up  to  the 
+rocke  one  after  another,  as  softly  as  could  possibly,  with 
+catching  holde  the  best  they  could,  by  the  hanging  of  the 
+rocke,  which  they  found  very  steepe,  but  nevertheles  easier 
+to  clime,  then  they  tooke  it  at  the  beginning.  So  that  the 
+formest  of  them  being  come  to  the  toppe  of  the  rocke,  were 
+now  ready  to  take  the  walle,  and  to  set  upon  the  watche  that 
+slept :  for  there  was  neither  man  nor  dogge  that  heard  them. 
+It  chaunced  then  there  were  holy  gese  kept  in  the  temple  of 
+luno,  which  at  other  times  were  wont  to  be  fed  till  their 
+croppes  were  full :  but  vittells  being  very  straite,  and  scante 
+at  that  time  even  to  finde  the  men,  the  poore  gese  were  so 
+hard  handled,  and  so  litle  regarded,  that  they  were  in  manner 
+starved  for  lacke  of  meate.  This  fowle  in  deede  naturally 
+is  very  quicke  of  hearing,  and  so  is  she  also  very  fearefull 
+by  nature  :  and  being  in  manner  famished  with  their  harde 
+allowance,  they  were  so  much  the  more  waking,  and  easier 
+to  be  afrayed.  Upon  this  occasion  therfore,  they  heard  the 
+comming  of  the  Gaules,  and  also  beganne  to  ronne  up  and 
+downe  and  crie  for  feare :  with  which  noyse  they  did  wake 
+those  that  were  within  the  castell.  The  Gaules  being 
+bewrayed  by  these  foolishe  gese,  left  their  stealing  upon 
+them,  and  came  in  with  all  the  open  noyse  and  terrour  they 
+could.  The  Romaines  hearing  this  larum,  every  man  tooke 
+such  weapon  as  came  first  to  his  hand,  and  they  ranne 
+sodainely  to  rescue  that  place  from  whence  they  understoode 
+the  noyse :  among  those,  the  formest  man  of  all  was  Marcus 
+Manlius,  a  man  that  had  bene  Consul,  who  had  a  lusty 
+bodye,  and  as  stowte  a  harte.  His  happe  being  to  mete 
+with  two  of  the  Gaules  together,  as  one  of  them  was  lifting 
+up  his  axe  to  knocke  him  on  the  head,  he  prevented  him, 
+and  strake  of  his  hand  with  his  sword,  and  clapt  his  target 
+on  the  others  face  so  fiercely,  that  he  threwe  him  backward 
+down  the  rocke  :  and  comming  afterwards  unto  the  walle 
+with  others  that  ranne  thither  with  him,  he  repulsed  the 
+rest  of  the  Gaules  that  were  gotten  up,  who  were  not  many 
+in  number,  neither  did  any  great  acte.  Thus  the  Romaines 
+having ?escaped  this  daunger,  the  next  morning  they  threw 
+
+351 
+
+
+FURIUS 
+CAMILLUS 
+
+The  Gaules 
+clime  up  to 
+the  Capitoll 
+in  the  night. 
+
+
+The  holy  gese 
+saved  the 
+Capitoll. 
+
+
+Marcus  Man- 
+lius repulsed 
+the  Gaules 
+from  the 
+Capitoll. 
+
+
+FURIUS 
+CAMILLUS 
+
+
+The  Gaules 
+vexed  with 
+the  plague 
+at  Rome. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+the  captaine  hedlong  down  the  rocks  from  the  castell,  who 
+had  charge  of  the  watche  the  night  before  :  and  gave  Man- 
+ilas in  recompence  of  the  good  service  he  had  done,  a  more 
+honorable  then  profitable  rewarde,  which  was  this.  Every 
+man  of  them  gave  him  halfe  a  pound  of  the  country  wheate, 
+which  they  call  Far^  and  the  fourth  parte  of  the  measure 
+of  wine,  which  the  Grecians  call  Cotile  :  and  this  might  be 
+about  a  quarte,  being  the  ordinary  allowance  of  every  man 
+by  the  daye.  After  this  repulse,  the  Gaules  beganne  to  be 
+discoraged,  partely  for  that  their  vitailles  fayled  them,  and 
+durst  no  more  forage  abroade  in  the  fieldes  for  scare  of 
+Camillus  :  and  partly  also  for  that  the  plague  came  amongest 
+them,  being  lodged  amongest  heapes  of  dead  bodies,  lying 
+in  every  place  above  ground  without  buriall,  and  amongest 
+burnt  houses  destroyed,  where  the  ashes  being  blowen  very 
+high  by  the  winde  and  vehemency  of  heate,  dyd  geve  a  drie 
+persing  ayer,  that  dyd  marvelously  poyson  their  bodies  when 
+they  came  to  drawe  in  the  breathe  of  it.  But  the  greatest 
+cause  of  all  their  mischief  was,  the  chaunge  of  their  wonted 
+dyet.  Who  comming  out  of  a  freshe  countrie,  where  there 
+were  excellent  pleasaunt  places  to  retire  unto,  to  avoyde  the 
+discommoditie  of  the  parching  heate  of  the  sommer,  were 
+nowe  in  a  naughty  plaine  countrie  for  them  to  remaine  in, 
+in  the  latter  season  of  the  yere.  All  these  things  together 
+dyd  heape  diseases  upon  them,  besides  the  long  continu- 
+aunce  of  the  siege  about  the  Capitoll  (for  it  w£is  then  about 
+the  seventh  moneth)  by  reason  whereof  there  grewe  a  mar- 
+velous death  in  their  campe,  through  the  great  numbers  of 
+them  that  dyed  daylie,  and  laye  unburied.  But  notwith- 
+standing all  the  death  and  trouble  of  the  Gaules,  the  poore 
+besieged  Romaines  were  nothing  holpen  the  more,  the  famine 
+still  dyd  growe  so  fast  upon  them.  And  bicause  they 
+could  heare  nothing  of  Camillus,  they  were  growen  almost 
+unto  a  despaire :  and  send  unto  him  they  could  not,  the 
+Gaules  kept  so  straight  watche  upon  them  in  the  cittie. 
+Whereupon  both  parties  finding  them  selves  in  harde  state, 
+first  the  watche  of  either  side  beganne  to  cast  out  wordes 
+of  peace  amongest  them  selves :  and  afterwards  by  consent 
+of  the  heades,  Sulpitius,  Tribune  of  the  souldiers,  came  to 
+352 
+
+
+•f'»'?'fvrT»r7?,t}«jKr?rT?tinT"TT"?;mf»rtfM 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+parle  with  Brennus.     In  which  parle  it  was  articled  :  that      FURIUS 
+the  Romaines  should   paye  a  thousand  pounde  weight  of   CAMILLUS 
+golde,  and  that  the  Gaules  should  incontinently  after  the  The  Romaines 
+receipt  of  the  same,  departe  out  of  their  cittie,  and  all  their  "'^'^*  about  to 
+territories.     This  decree  being  passed  by  othe  from  both,  [fbertie'of  the 
+the  golde  was  brought.     And  when  it  came  to  be  weyed,  Gaules  with 
+the  Gaules  at  the  first  prively  beganne  to  deale  falsely  with  golde. 
+them  :  but  afterwardes  they  openly  stayed  the  ballance,  and 
+would  not  let  them  waye  no  more,  whereat  the  Romaines 
+beganne  to  be  angrie  with  them.     Then  Brennus,  in  scome 
+and  mockery,  to  despight  them  more,  pluckt  of  his  sworde, 
+girdell  and  all,  and  put  it  into  the  ballance  where  the  gold 
+was  wayed.     Sulpitius  seeing  that :  asked  him  what  he  ment 
+by  it  .'*     Brennus  aunswered  him  :  What  canne  it  signifie  els, 
+but  sorrowe  to  the  vanquished  ?    This  worde  ever  after  ranne 
+as  a  common  proverbe  in  the  peoples  mouthes.     Some  of  the 
+Romaines  tooke  this  vile  parte  of  theirs  in  such  scome,  that 
+they  would  needes  take  the  gold  from  them  againe  by  force, 
+and  so  returne  into  their  holde,  to  abide  the  siege  still,  as 
+they  had  done  before.     Other  were  of  opinion  to  the  con- 
+trary, and   thought  it  best  with  pacience  to  put  up  this 
+scorne  of  theirs,  and  not  to  thincke  it  was  a  shame  to  paye 
+more  then  they  had  promised  :  but  only  to  paye  it  by  com- 
+pulsion as  they  dyd,  by  misfortune  of  time,  was  to  thincke 
+it  rather  necessary,   then   honorable.      And   as   they   were 
+debating  the  matter  thus,  aswell  amongest  them  selves,  as 
+with  the  Gaules  :   Camillus  came  to  Rome  gates  with  his  Camillua 
+armie,  and    understanding   all  what   had   passed  betweene  came  to  Rome 
+them,  he  commaunded  the  rest  of  the  army  to  marche  fayer  ^'  *  »i'»'*iniy 
+and  softely  after  him  in  good  order,  and  he  in  the  meane 
+season  with  the  best  choyse  men  he  had,  went  before  with 
+all  speede.     Assone  as  the  other  Romaines  within  the  cittie 
+had  spied  him,  they  showted  out  for  joye,  and  receaved  him 
+every  one  with  great  reverence,  without  any  more  wordes, 
+as  their  soveraine  captaine  and  prince,  who  had  power  over 
+them  all.     And  Camillus  taking  the  golde  out  of  the  skales, 
+gave  it  unto  his  men,  and  commaunded  the  Gaules  presently 
+to  take  up  their  skales,  and  to  get  them  going :  for,  sayeth 
+he,  it  is  not  the  Romaines  manner  to  keepe  their  countrie 
+2  Y  353 
+
+
+FURIUS 
+CAMILLUS 
+
+
+Camillus 
+speaketh 
+stowtely  to 
+Brennus  king 
+of  the  Gaules. 
+
+
+Camillus 
+overthroweth 
+the  armie  of 
+the  Gaules. 
+
+
+Rome  was  7 
+moneths  in 
+the  handes  of 
+the  Gaules. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+with  golde,  but  with  the  sworde.  Then  Brennus  beganne 
+to  be  hotte,  and  tolde  him  it  was  not  honorably  done  of 
+him,  to  breake  the  accorde  that  had  passed  betweene  them 
+before  by  othe.  Whereunto  Camillus  stowtely  aunswered 
+him  againe,  that  accorde  was  of  no  validitie.  For  he  being 
+created  Dictator  before,  all  other  officers  and  magistrates 
+whatsoever,  and  their  actes,  by  his  election  were  made  of  no 
+authoritie  :  and  seeing  therefore  they  had  delte  with  men, 
+that  had  no  power  of  them  selves  to  accorde  to  any  matter, 
+they  were  to  speake  to  him,  if  they  required  ought.  For  he 
+alone  had  absolute  authoritie  to  pardone  them  if  they 
+repented,  and  would  aske  it :  or  els  to  punishe  them,  and 
+make  their  bodies  aunswer  the  damages  and  losse  his  cuntry 
+had  by  them  susteyned.  These  wordes  made  Brennus  madde 
+as  a  march  hare,  that  out  went  his  blade.  Then  they  drew 
+their  swordes  of  all  sides,  and  layed  lustely  one  at  an  other 
+as  they  could,  within  the  houses,  and  in  open  streetes,  where 
+they  could  set  no  battell  in  order.  But  Brennus  sodainely 
+remembring  him  selfe  that  it  was  no  even  matche  for  him, 
+retired  with  his  men  about  him  into  his  campe,  before  he 
+had  lost  many  of  his  people.  The  next  night  following, 
+he  departed  out  of  Rome  with  all  his  army,  and  went  to 
+encampe  him  self  about  a  three  score  furlong  from  thence, 
+in  the  highe  way  that  goeth  towards  the  cittie  of  the 
+Gabians.  Camillus  with  his  whole  army  well  appointed, 
+went  after  him  immediatly,  and  showed  at  his  campe  by  the 
+breake  of  daye.  The  Romaines  having  taken  harte  againe 
+unto  them,  dyd  lustely  geve  them  battell :  the  same  continued 
+longe,  very  cruell  and  doubtefull,  untill  the  Gaules  at  the 
+length  were  overthrowen,  and  their  campe  taken  with  great 
+slaughter.  As  for  those  that  dyd  escape  the  furie  of  the 
+battell,  they  were  killed,  some  by  the  Romaines  selves,  who 
+hottely  followed  the  chase  after  the  battell  broken  :  the 
+residue  of  them,  and  the  greatest  parte,  were  slaine  by  those 
+of  the  citties  and  villages  neere  abouts,  that  dyd  set  upon 
+them  as  they  fled  scatteringly  here  and  there  in  the  fields. 
+And  thus  was  the  cittie  of  Rome  straungely  againe  recovered, 
+that  was  before  straungely  wonne  and  lost,  after  it  had  con- 
+tinued seven  moneths  in  the  handes  of  the  barbarous  people. 
+354 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+For  they  entred  Rome  about  the  fiftenth  daye  of  lulye :  FURIUS 
+and  they  were  driven  out  againe,  about  the  thirtenth  daye  of  CAMILLUS 
+Februarye  following.  So  Camillus  triumphed  as  beseemed  Camillus 
+him,  and  as  one  that  had  saved  and  delivered  his  countrie  triumphed  of 
+out  of  the  handes  of  their  enemies,  and  set  Rome  againe  at  ®  *"  ®^' 
+libertie.  Those  that  had  bene  abroade  all  the  time  of  this 
+siege,  came  into  Rome  againe,  following  his  triumphing 
+charret :  and  those  that  had  bene  besieged  within  the 
+Capitoll  (looking  for  no  other  but  to  have  dyed  by  famin) 
+went  and  presented  them  selves  before  him,  and  eche  one 
+embraced  other,  in  weeping  wise  for  joye.  The  priestes  and 
+ministers  of  the  temples  also,  presented  their  holy  juells,  whole 
+and  undefaced,  which  some  of  them  had  buried  in  the  ground 
+within  the  cittie  selfe :  and  others  some  had  caried  awaye 
+with  them,  when  they  fled  out  of  Rome.  All  these  the  people 
+dyd  as  gladly  see,  as  if  the  goddes  them  selves  had  returned 
+home  againe  into  their  cittie.  After  they  had  sacrificed 
+unto  the  goddes,  and  rendred  them  most  humble  thankes, 
+and  had  purged  their  cittie,  as  they  had  bene  taught  by 
+men  experienced  in  those  matters  for  satisfaction  of  the 
+goddes  :  Camillus  beganne  againe  to  buylde  up  the  temples 
+that  were  there  before,  harde  by  the  which  he  buylt  another 
+newe  one  also  to  the  god  Aius  Locutius,  in  that  very  place 
+where  Marcus  Ceditius  heard  the  voyce  warne  him  of  the 
+coming  of  the  Gaules.  So  by  Camillus  good  diligence,  and 
+the  priestes  great  paynes  and  travaill,  the  situations  of  these 
+temples  were  with  muche  a  doe  founde  out  againe.  But 
+when  they  were  to  buylde  againe  all  the  rest  of  the  cittie, 
+that  was  wholy  burnt,  and  destroyed  to  the  grounde  :  the 
+people  had  no  minde  to  it,  but  ever  shrinked  backe,  to  put 
+any  hande  to  the  worcke,  for  that  they  lacked  all  thinges 
+necessarie  to  beginne  the  same.  Furthermore,  waying  their 
+late  and  long  susteined  trouble  and  miseries,  they  were  fitter 
+to  take  their  ease  and  rest,  then  to  beginne  newe  labour  and 
+toyle,  to  kill  their  hartes  and  bodies  altogether.  For,  neither 
+were  their  bodies  able  to  performe  it,  nor  yet  their  goods 
+to  reache  to  the  charge  of  it.  Wherefore  disposing  their 
+mindes  to  dwell  in  the  cittie  of  Veies,  which  remained 
+whole,  untouched,  and  furnished  of  all  thinges  to  receave 
+
+355 
+
+
+FURIUS 
+CAMILLUS 
+
+The  busie 
+headed  Ora- 
+tors stirre  the 
+people  to  tu- 
+multe  against 
+Camillus. 
+
+
+Camillus  Dic- 
+
+tatorshippe 
+
+proroged. 
+
+Camillus  per- 
+suaded the 
+people  what 
+he  could  to 
+dwell  in 
+Rome,  and  to 
+leave  Veies. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+them  :  they  delivered  to  the  pratling  Orators  (whose  tongues 
+dyd  never  cease  to  speake  placentia  to  the  people)  trimme 
+occasion  to  set  this  matter  abroache.  So  they  gave  good 
+eare,  and  were  willing  to  heare  certen  seditious  wordes 
+spoken  against  Camillus,  which  were  these.  That  for  his 
+private  ambition  he  would  deprive  them  of  a  cittie  well 
+furnished  already,  and  would  against  their  willes  compell 
+them  to  lodge  in  their  owne  houses,  wholy  burnt  and  pulled 
+downe.  And  moreover,  how  he  would  make  them  to  rayse  up 
+againe  the  great  ruine  the  fire  had  made,  to  the  ende  the 
+people  might  call  him,  not  only  captaine  and  generall  of 
+the  Romaines,  but  the  founder  of  Rome  also,  and  so  drown 
+Romulus  honorable  title  thereof.  The  Senate  considering 
+of  this  matter,  and  fearing  some  tumulte  among  the  people : 
+they  would  not  suffer  Camillus  to  leave  his  Dictator  shippe 
+before  the  ende  of  the  yere,  notwithstanding  no  man  ever 
+enjoyed  that  office  above  sixe  moneths.  Then  Camillus  for 
+his  parte  dyd  much  endevour  him  selfe,  to  comforte  and 
+appease  the  people,  praying  them  all  he  could  to  tarie  :  and 
+further  pointed  with  his  finger  unto  the  graves  of  their 
+auncesters,  and  put  them  in  minde  also  of  the  holy  places 
+dedicated  to  the  goddes,  and  sanctified  by  king  Numa,  or 
+by  Romulus,  or  by  other  Kings.  But  amongest  many  other 
+tokens  drawen  out  of  holy  and  divine  things,  he  forgate  not 
+to  bring  for  example,  the  heade  of  a  man  founde  newe 
+and  freshe,  in  making  the  foundations  of  the  Capitoll,  as 
+if  that  place  by  fatal  1  desteny  had  bene  once  chosen  to  be 
+the  heade  and  chief  of  all  Italic.  And  moreover,  that  the 
+holy  fyer  of  the  goddesse  Vesta  (which  sence  the  warres  had 
+bene  kindled  againe  by  the  holy  Vestall  Nunnes)  would  againe 
+come  to  be  put  out  by  them,  if  they  did  forsake  their 
+naturall  cittie,  besides  the  great  shame  and  dishonour  it 
+would  be  unto  them,  to  see  it  inhabited  in  time  to  come  by 
+unknowne  straungers,  or  els  to  be  left  a  common  field  and 
+pasture,  for  beastes  and  cattell  to  graze  in.  Such  sorowfull 
+examples  and  griefes,  the  honest  naturall  borne  cittizens,  dyd 
+ever  blowe  into  the  peoples  eares,  aswell  privately,  as  openly. 
+The  people  againe  to  the  contrarie,  dyd  make  their  hartes 
+to  yerne  for  pittie,  when  they  layed  before  their  eyes  their 
+356 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+penurie,  and  povertie  they  sustained  :  and  besought  them  FURIUS 
+also  not  to  enforce  them  to  gather  and  joyne  together  CAMILLDS 
+againe  the  broken  peces  of  a  spoyled  cittie  (as  of  a  shippe- 
+wracke  that  had  cast  them  naked  into  the  sea,  having  only 
+saved  bare  life  and  persones)  sence  that  they  had  another 
+cittie  neere  at  hande  and  ready  to  receave  them.  So  Ca- 
+millus  counsell  was,  that  the  Senate  shovdd  consulte  upon 
+this  matter,  and  deliver  their  absolute  opinion  herein  :  which 
+was  done.  And  in  this  counsell,  he  him  self  brought  forth 
+many  probable  reasons,  why  they  should  not  leave  in  any 
+case,  the  place  of  their  naturall  birth  and  country :  and  so 
+dyd  many  other  Senatours  in  like  case,  favoring  that  opinion. 
+Last  of  all,  after  these  persuasions,  he  commaunded  Lucius 
+Lucretius  (whose  manner  was  to  speake  first  in  such  as- 
+semblies) that  he  should  stand  up  and  deliver  his  opinion, 
+and  that  the  rest  also  in  order  as  they  sat,  should  saye  their 
+mindes.  So  every  man  keeping  silence,  as  Lucretius  was 
+ready  to  speake,  at  that  present  time  there  passed  by  their 
+counsaill  house,  a  captaine  with  his  bande  that  warded  that 
+daye,  who  spake  alowde  to  his  ensigne  bearer  that  went 
+formest,  to  staye,  and  set  downe  his  ensigne  there :  for,  sayed 
+he,  here  is  a  very  good  place  for  us  to  warde  in.  These 
+wordes  being  heard  up  into  the  Senate  house,  even  as  they 
+stoode  all  in  a  doubte  and  maze  what  would  be  the  resolu- 
+tion of  this  matter  :  Lucretius  beganne  to  saye,  that  he  most 
+humbly  thancked  the  goddes,  and  allowed  of  the  captaines 
+judgment,  and  so  every  one  of  the  rest  in  their  order,  sayed 
+as  much.  Moreover  there  was  a  wonderfull  chaunge  and 
+alteration  of  minde  sodainely  among  the  common  people : 
+for  every  man  dyd  persuade  and  encorage  his  fellowe  lively 
+to  put  his  hand  to  this  worke.  Insomuch  as  tarying  for  no 
+division  or  appointing  out  of  streetes,  nor  setting  out  every 
+man  his  place  he  should  builde  in  :  they  fell  to  worke  of 
+all  handes,  everie  one  chosing  that  place  he  liked  best,  and  Rome  is  built 
+was  most  commodious  for  their  building,  without  any  other  againe. 
+order  or  division  amongest  them.  Whereupon,  they  ronning 
+to  this  building  on  a  head,  the  streetes  were  confused  on 
+heapes  together,  and  their  houses  all  built  out  of  order  and 
+vmiformitie.     For  the  reporte  goeth,  that  the  whole  cittie 
+
+357 
+
+
+FURIUS 
+CAMILLUS 
+
+Rome  was 
+newe  built 
+againe  in  a 
+yere. 
+
+
+Romulus 
+
+augures  staffe 
+founde  hole 
+after  Rome 
+was  burnt. 
+
+
+Camillus 
+chosen  Dicta- 
+tor the  third 
+time. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+(as  well  common  as  private  buildings)  was  built  up  new 
+againe  in  a  yere.  But  the  surveyours,  to  whom  Camillus 
+had  geven  charge  to  finde  out  all  the  holy  places  where  the 
+temples  had  bene  overthrowen :  as  they  went  about  mount 
+Pallatine,  they  came  by  chaunce  to  the  place,  where  the 
+chappell  of  Mars  had  stoode,  which  the  Gaules  had  wholy 
+burnt  and  destroyed,  as  they  had  done  all  the  rest.  They 
+making  cleane  the  place,  and  surveying  every  corner,  dyd 
+finde  by  chaunce  Romulus  augures  crooked  staffe  hidden 
+under  a  great  mount  of  ashes.  This  staffe  is  crooked  at  one 
+of  the  endes,  and  they  call  it  Lituus,  which  soothesayers 
+doe  use  to  quarter  out  the  regions  of  the  element,  when  they 
+will  beholde  the  flying  of  birdes  to  tell  of  things  to  come. 
+Romulus  that  was  very  skillfull  in  this  arte,  dyd  use  this 
+staffe :  and  after  he  was  taken  awaye  from  all  mens  sights, 
+the  priests  tooke  it,  and  kept  it  as  a  holy  relicke,  suffering 
+no  creature  to  laye  hands  on  it.  Nowe  they  founde  this 
+staffe  whole  and  unbroken,  where  all  things  els  were  con- 
+sumed and  perished  by  fire,  they  were  in  a  marvelous  joye 
+thereat.  For  they  interpreted  this  to  be  a  signe,  of  the 
+everlasting  continuaunce  of  the  cittie  of  Rome.  But  before 
+they  could  make  an  ende  of  all  their  building,  there  grewe  a 
+newe  warre  againe  upon  them.  For  at  one  very  instante,  all 
+the  vEques,  the  Volsces,  and  the  Latines,  entred  with  all 
+their  might  and  mayne  into  the  territories  of  the  Romaines. 
+The  Thuscans  also  went  then  and  besieged  Sutrium,  that 
+was  in  league  and  amitie  with  the  Romaines.  The  Trihuni 
+militares  got  them  straight  to  the  field  with  their  armie,  and 
+encamped  about  mount  Martian.  The  Latines  besieged 
+them  so  straightely,  that  their  army  stoode  in  great  daunger 
+to  be  overthrowen,  and  they  were  driven  to  sende  to  Rome 
+for  a  newe  supplie.  Thereupon  the  Romaines  dyd  choose 
+Camillus  Dictator  againe  the  third  time.  The  occasion  of 
+this  warre  is  reported  two  manner  of  wayes :  whereof  I  will 
+declare  the  first,  which  I  doe  conceyve  to  be  but  a  tale. 
+They  saye  the  Latines  sent  unto  the  Romaines,  to  demaunde 
+some  of  their  free  maydes  in  mariage  :  which  they  dyd  either 
+to  make  a  quarell  of  warre,  or  els  as  desirous  in  deede,  to 
+ioyne  both  the  peoples  againe  by  newe  manages.  The 
+358 
+
+
+•'♦f'M^mffnwJWTTTttnTTirT'rT'tftfrfjri 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+Romaines  were  amased  very  much  at  this,  and  sore  troubled,      FURIUS 
+as  not  knowing  howe  to  aunswer  them,  they  were  so  affrayed    CAMILLUS 
+of  warres.     For  they  were  scante  newe  setled  at  home,  and 
+dreaded  much  lest  this  demaunde  of  their  daughters,  was  but 
+a  summons  made  to  geve  them  hostages,  which  they  finely 
+cloked  under  the  name  of  alliance  in  mariage.     Some  saye 
+that  there  was  at  that  time  a  bonde  mayde  called  Tutola,  Tutola,  or 
+or  as  some  saye,  Philotis,  that  went  unto  the  Senate,  and  ^^j^^^^^  ?f*^ 
+counselled  them    they  should   sende  her   awaye    with  some  *°    ^"       '^" 
+other  fayer  maydes  slaves,  dressed  up  like  gentlewomen,  and 
+then    let  her  alone.      The  Senate  liked   very   well  of  this 
+devise,   and  chose  such  a  number  of  bonde  maydes  as  she 
+desired  to  have,  and  trimming  them   up  in  fine  apparell, 
+begawded  with  chaines  of  golde  and  juells,  they  sent  them 
+forth  to  the  Latines,  who  were  encamped  not  farre  from  the 
+cittie.     When  night  was  come,  the  other  maydes  hyd  their 
+enemies  swords.     But  this  Tutola,  or  Philotis  (call  her  as 
+you  will)  dyd  clime  up  to  the  toppe  of  a  wilde  figge  tree, 
+from  which  she  shewed  a  burning  torche  unto  the  Romaines, 
+having  made  shifte  to  hange  somwhat  behinde  her,  to  keepe 
+the  light  from   sight  of  the  enemies.     For  this  signal!  the 
+Senate  of  Rome  had  secretly  appointed  her  to  set  up,  which 
+was  the  cause  that  the  issuing  out  of  the  souldiers  being 
+commaunded  to  goe  out  in  the  night,  was  full  of  trouble  and 
+tumulte.     For  being  pressed  by  their  captaines,  they  called 
+one  another,  and   there  was  great  a  doe  to  put  them  into 
+order  of  battell.     Thus  they  went   to  take  their  enemies  Rome  de- 
+sleeping,  who  nothing  mistrusting  the  same,  were  slaine  the  li^ered  from 
+most  parte  of  them  within  their  campe.     This  was  done  ^^x""}^  J. 
+on  the  fifte  day  of  the  moneth  called  Quintilis,  and  now  is  bondmavde, 
+named  lulye  :  at  which  time  they  doe  yet  celebrate  a  certaine 
+feast  in  reraembraunce  of  that  acte.     For  first  of  all,  going 
+out  of  the  citie,  they  call  alowde  many  of  their  fellowes 
+names   which   are   most   common :    as  Caius,    Marcus,  and 
+Lucius,  showing  thereby  howe  one  of  them  called  another 
+after  that  sorte,  as  they  went  in  great  haste  out  of  the  cittie. 
+Afterwardes  all  the  mayde  servauntes  of  the  cittie  being 
+trimmely  apparelled,  goe  playing  up  and  downe  the  towne, 
+pleasauntly  j easting  with  those  they  mete :  and  in  the  ende 
+
+359 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE    NOBLE 
+
+
+FURIUS 
+CAMILLUS 
+
+The  maydens 
+feaste,  called 
+Nonce  Capra- 
+tiruB. 
+
+
+they  make  as  though  they  fought  together,  in  token  that 
+they  dyd  helpe  the  Romaines  at  that  time  to  destroye  the 
+Latines.  Then  they  are  feasted,  sitting  under  bowers  made 
+with  wilde  figge  tree  boughes :  and  this  feaste  daye  is  called, 
+Nonce  Capratince,  by  reason  of  the  wilde  figge  tree  (as  some 
+thincke)  from  the  toppe  whereof,  the  bonde  mayde  shewed  to 
+the  Romaines  the  burning  torche.  For  the  Romaines  call 
+the  wilde  i^gge  tree,  Caprificiis.  Other  saye,  that  all  these 
+things  are  done  and  spoken,  in  remembrance  of  the  mis- 
+chaunce  that  happened  unto  Romulus,  when  he  was  taken 
+out  of  their  sight,  the  same  day  without  the  gats  of  the 
+citty,  at  which  time  there  rose  a  sodain  miste  and  darke 
+clowd.  Or  as  some  other  saye,  that  then  was  the  eclypse  of 
+the  sunne :  and  they  holde  opinion  that  the  day  was  named 
+Nonce  Capratince,  bicause  Capra  in  the  Romain  tongue,  sig- 
+nifieth  a  goate.  Romulus  vanished  out  of  mens  sightes,  as 
+he  was  making  an  oration  unto  his  people,  neere  unto  the 
+place  which  is  called  goate  marshe,  as  we  have  mentioned 
+more  at  large  in  his  life.  The  2  occasion  and  beginning  of 
+this  warre  (according  to  the  opinion  of  most  writers)  was,  that 
+Camillus  being  chosen  Dictator  the  third  time,  and  knowing 
+that  the  Trih.  militares  with  their  army  were  straightly 
+besieged  by  the  Latines,  and  Volsces :  he  was  inforced  to 
+arme  all  the  olde  men,  who  for  very  age  were  priviledged 
+from  further  service  in  warres.  And  having  fetched  a  great 
+compasse  about  mount  Martian,  bicause  he  would  not  be 
+scene  of  his  enemies,  he  came  to  lodge  his  campe  behind 
+them,  where  he  raised  fiers,  to  make  the  Romaines  knowe 
+that  were  besieged,  how  he  was  come :  which  as  sone  as 
+they  perceived,  they  tooke  to  them  corage  again,  and  de- 
+termined to  fight.  But  the  Latines  and  Volsces  kept  within 
+their  campe,  and  dyd  entrenche  and  fortifie  them  selves  with 
+a  wall  of  wodd,  which  they  layed  a  crosse,  bicause  they  saw 
+they  were  beset  both  before  and  behind  :  and  determined  to 
+tary  the  releefe  of  a  new  supply,  as  well  of  their  owne,  as  of 
+some  further  ayde  besides  from  the  Thuscans,  which  thing 
+Camillus  perceaving,  and  fearing  least  they  should  serve  him, 
+as  he  had  already  handled  them  by  compassing  of  him  again 
+behind :  he  thought  it  necessary  to  prevent  this.  So  eon- 
+360 
+
+
+•prtfTwm  fftitrwntni  w  Mr  r  ■  r?rf  f  >'»  «h< 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+sidering  the  inclosure  and  fortification  of  their  campe  was 
+all  of  wodde,  and  that  every  morning  commonly,  there  came 
+a  great  winde  from  the  side  of  the  mountaines,  he  made 
+provision  of  a  number  of  fire  brandes.  And  leading  out 
+his  armie  into  the  fields  by  brealce  of  day,  he  appointed 
+one  parte  of  them  to  geve  charge  upon  the  enemies  on  the 
+one  side,  with  great  noyse  and  showting :  and  he  with 
+the  other  parte  determined  to  rayse  fier  on  the  contrary 
+side,  from  whence  the  ^vinde  should  come,  looking  for 
+oportunitie  to  doe  the  same.  When  he  sawe  the  sunne  up, 
+and  the  winde  beginning  to  whistle,  blowing  a  good  gale 
+from  the  side  of  the  hilles,  and  that  the  skirmishe  was 
+begonne  on  the  other  side :  then  he  gave  a  signall  unto  the 
+companie  he  led  with  him,  to  set  upon  the  enemies,  and  made 
+them  throwe  into  the  inclosure  of  their  campe,  divers  potts 
+and  dartes  with  fire,  so  that  the  flame  finding  matter  to 
+catche  holde  of,  in  this  inclosure  of  wodde,  and  trees  layed 
+overthwart,  dyd  raise  straight  an  exceding  great  flame  in 
+the  ayer,  and  still  got  waye  inwards  into  the  Latines  campe. 
+Whereupon  the  Latines  being  unprovided  of  present  remedy 
+to  quenche  the  flame,  and  seeing  their  campe  a  fyre  all  about 
+their  eares  :  they  gathered  them  selves  together  at  the  first  in 
+a  very  small  roome.  Nevertheles,  they  were  inforced  m  the 
+ende  to  get  them  into  the  field,  and  there  they  founde  their 
+enemies  ready  armed,  and  in  battell  raye.  So  as  fewe  of 
+those  escaped  that  came  into  the  field,  and  their  fellowes 
+that  remained  within  their  campe,  were  burnt  to  death  with 
+fyer,  mitill  the  Romaines  them  selves  came  to  quench  it  for 
+greedines  of  their  spoyle  and  goodes.  When  all  this  was 
+done,  Camillus  left  his  sonne  in  the  campe,  to  keepe  the 
+prisoners  and  spoyles :  and  he  him  self,  with  the  rest  of  the 
+armie,  went  to  invade  his  enemies  contrie,  where  he  tooke 
+the  cittie  of  ^ques.  Then  after  he  had  overcome  the 
+Volsces,  he  led  his  army  presently  from  thence  unto  the  cittie 
+of  Sutrium.  For  he  had  not  yet  harde  of  their  misfortime. 
+Therefore  he  hasted  him  self  to  ayde  them,  bicause  he 
+thought  they  were  yet  besieged  by  the  Thuscans.  But  suche 
+was  their  harde  fortune,  that  they  had  already  yelded  up 
+their  cittie  by  composition,  and  saved  no  parte  of  their 
+2Z  361 
+
+
+FURIUS 
+CAMILLUS 
+Camillus 
+strata^eame 
+against  the 
+Latines  and 
+Volsces. 
+
+
+Camillus  slue 
+the  Latines. 
+
+
+Camillus 
+tooke  the 
+citie  of 
+^ques. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF  THE    NOBLE 
+
+FURIUS  goodes,  but  the  very  clothes  they  had  on  their  backs.  So 
+CAMILLUS  being  turned  out  of  all  they  had,  they  met  Camillus  by  the 
+waye  as  they  were  wandring  abroad,  lamenting  their  miserie, 
+with  their  ^vives  and  litle  young  children :  whose  miserie 
+went  to  the  very  harte  of  Camillus,  when  he  beheld  their 
+lamentable  state.  Furthermore,  when  he  sawe  the  Romaines 
+weepe  for  pittie  also,  to  see  the  mone  that  these  unfortunate 
+people  made  unto  him,  and  that  it  greved  them  hartely  to 
+beholde  their  great  mischaunce :  he  determined  with  him 
+self  not  to  deferre  revenge,  but  presently  to  goe  the  selfe 
+same  daye  before  the  cittie  of  Sutrium,  imagining  that  he 
+should  finde  the  Thuscans  out  of  order,  without  keeping 
+watch,  and  attending  nothing  but  making  good  cheere, 
+bicause  they  had  newly  taken  a  wealthy  riche  cittie,  where 
+they  had  left  never  an  enemy  in  the  same  to  hurte  them, 
+neither  feared  any  abroad  to  come  neere  to  assaulte  them. 
+And  in  deede  it  fell  out  rightly  as  he  gessed.  For  he  had 
+not  only  passed  through  the  territories  of  the  cittie,  without 
+any  intelligence  geven  to  the  enemies  within  the  same :  but  he 
+was  come  to  the  very  gates,  and  had  taken  the  walles,  before 
+they  hard  any  thing  of  his  coming,  by  reason  they  neither 
+kept  watch  nor  warde,  but  were  dispersed  abroade  in  the  cittie, 
+in  every  house,  eating  and  drincking  droncke  together.  In- 
+somuch as  when  they  knew  their  enemies  were  already  within 
+the  cittie,  they  were  so  full  fraight  with  meate  and  wine, 
+that  the  most  of  their  wittes  served  them  not  so  much  as  to 
+flye,  but  taried  untill  they  were  slaine  or  taken,  like  beastes 
+in  the  houses.  Thus  was  the  cittie  of  Sutrium  t^vise  taken  in 
+one  daye.  And  it  chamiced  that  those  which  had  wonne  it, 
+lost  it :  and  those  which  had  lost  it,  recovered  it  againe  by 
+Camillus  meanes.  "WTio  deserved  both  the  honour  and  entrie 
+of  triumphe  into  Rome :  the  which  wanne  him  no  lesse  good 
+will  and  glorie,  then  the  two  first  before  had  done  prayse, 
+and  gotten  fame.  For  even  his  greatest  enemies  that  most 
+spighted  and  envied  his  former  noble  actes,  ascribing  them 
+rather  to  fortune  that  favored  him,  then  to  his  valliantnes  or 
+worthines :  were  forced  nowe  by  this  deede  of  his  to  confesse, 
+that  his  'svisedome  and  valliantnes  deserved  prayse  and  com- 
+mendation to  the  skyes.  Camillus  of  all  his  enemies  had  one 
+362 
+
+
+Camillus 
+wanne  the 
+citie  of 
+Sutrium. 
+
+
+:?f*|MV'>'f»l*»W*JTf'flf»»l^'twnrr'*n*f>tfrtjf 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+most  bitter  to  him,  which  was  Marcus  Manlius,  that  was  the 
+first  man  that  gave  the  Gaules  the  repulse  that  night  they 
+had  entered  the  walles  of  the  Capitoll,  and  had  thought  to 
+have  taken  it :  whereupon  they  gave  him  the  surname  of 
+Capitolinus.  He  aspiring  to  be  the  chief  of  the  cittie,  and 
+finding  no  direct  waye  to  exceede  the  glory  of  Camillus,  tookc 
+the  broade  highe  waye  of  them  that  practise  tyrannic.  For 
+he  beganne  to  flatter  the  common  people,  and  specially  those 
+that  were  indebted :  he  tooke  upon  him  to  defende  their 
+causes,  and  pleaded  their  case  at  the  barre  against  their 
+creditours.  Sometimes  he  tooke  the  debters  out  of  the 
+creditoiu's  handes  and  caried  them  awaye  by  force,  that  for 
+lacke  of  abilitie  to  paye,  were  by  rigour  of  the  lawe  con- 
+demned to  be  bonde  slaves.  But  by  this  practise,  in  shortc 
+time  he  gotte  him  a  marvelous  number  of  suche  needie 
+followers,  and  poore  men,  that  the  noble  men  and  honest 
+cittizens  were  affray ed  of  the  insolent  partes  they  played,  and 
+of  the  continuall  troubles  and  tumultes  they  daylie  stirred  up 
+in  the  market  place.  Therefore  suspecting  the  worst  in  this 
+case,  they  dyd  choose  Quintus  Capitolinus  Dictator :  who 
+caused  the  sayed  Manlius  immediately  to  be  apprehended, 
+and  committed  him  to  prison.  Whereupon  the  people  be- 
+ganne to  chaunge  their  apparell :  which  they  were  never 
+wont  to  doe,  but  in  great  and  common  calamities.  But  the 
+Senate  fearing  least  some  commotion  would  vyse  hereupon, 
+they  dyd  set  him  at  libertie  againc.  He  being  thus  out  of 
+prison,  was  no  whit  the  better,  nor  wiser  thereby,  but  dyd 
+still  stirre  up  the  commons,  more  boldely  and  seditiously, 
+then  before.  Then  was  Camillus  chosen  againe  Trtbumis 
+militarise  and  Manlius  was  accused  in  his  time  of  office.  But 
+when  this  matter  came  to  pleading,  the  sight  of  the  Capitoll 
+troubled  his  accusers  much.  For  the  very  place  it  selfc  where 
+Manlius  had  repulsed  the  Gaules  by  night,  and  defended  the 
+Capitoll,  was  easely  seenc  from  the  market  place,  where  the 
+matter  was  a  hearing :  and  he  him  sclfe  pointing  with  his, 
+hande,  shewed  the  place  unto  the  goddes,  and  weeping 
+tenderly  he  layed  before  them  the  remembraunce  of  the 
+hazarde  of  his  life,  in  fighting  for  their  safety.  This  dyd 
+move  the  judges  hartes  to  pittic,  so  as  they  knew  not  what  to 
+
+363 
+
+
+FURIUS 
+CAMILLUS 
+
+Marcus  Man- 
+lius Capito- 
+linus moveth 
+sedition. 
+
+
+Flattery  and 
+hypocrisie 
+wiuneth  the 
+multitude 
+and  common 
+people. 
+
+
+Manlius  clapt 
+in  prison  by 
+Q.  Capitolinus 
+Dictator. 
+
+
+Camillus 
+chosen  againe 
+Tribunus 
+mi/Hans. 
+
+
+FURIUS 
+CAMILLUS 
+
+
+Marcus 
+Manlius 
+Capitolinus 
+put  to  death. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF    THE    NOBLE 
+
+doe,  but  many  times  they  dyd  put  over  the  hearing  of  his 
+case  unto  another  daye,  and  neither  would  they  geve  judge- 
+ment, knowing  he  was  convicted  by  manifest  proofes  :  neither 
+could  they  use  the  severitie  of  the  lawe  upon  him,  bicause 
+the  place  of  his  so  notable  good  service  was  ever  still  before 
+their  eyes.  Wherefore  Camillus  finding  the  cause  of  delaye 
+of  justice,  dyd  make  the  place  of  judgement  to  be  removed 
+without  the  cittie,  into  a  place  called  the  wodde  Petelian, 
+from  whence  they  could  not  see  the  Capitoll.  And  there  the 
+accusers  gave  apparent  evidence  against  him  :  and  the  j  udges 
+considering  all  his  Avicked  practises,  conceaved  a  just  cause 
+to  punishe  him,  as  he  had  deserved.  So  they  gave  sentence 
+of  death  against  him :  that  he  should  be  caried  to  the 
+mount  Capitoll,  and  there  to  be  throwen  downe  hedlonge 
+the  rockes  thereof.  Thus,  one,  and  the  selfe  place  was  a 
+memory  of  his  notable  good  service,  and  also  a  memoriall  of 
+his  miserable  and  unfortunate  end.  Besides  all  this,  they 
+rased  his  house,  and  built  in  the  same  place  a  temple  to  the 
+goddesse  they  call  Moneta :  and  made  a  lawe  also,  that  no 
+Patrician  from  thenceforth  should  dwell  any  more  in  the 
+mount  Capitoll.  Camillus  after  this,  being  called  againe  to 
+take  the  office  of  Tribunus  militaris  the  sixt  time :  he  sought 
+to  excuse  him  selfe  aswell  for  that  he  sawe  he  was  well  stepte 
+in  yeres,  as  also  for  that  he  feared  fortunes  spight,  or  some 
+mishappe,  after  he  had  obteined  such  glorie  for  his  noble 
+actes  and  service.  Howbeit  the  most  apparent  cause  of  his 
+excuse,  was  his  sickenes,  which  troubled  him  much  at  that 
+time.  But  the  people  would  allowe  no  excuse  by  any 
+meanes,  but  cried  out,  they  dyd  not  desire  he  should  fight 
+a  foote  nor  a  horse  backe,  but  that  he  should  only  geve 
+counsaill,  and  commaunde :  and  therefore  they  compelled 
+him  to  take  the  charge,  and  to  leade  the  armie  with  one  of 
+his  companions  named  Lucius  Furius,  against  their  enemies 
+the  Praenestines,  and  the  Volsces,  who  joyning  together,  dyd 
+invade  the  confines  of  the  Romaines  friendes.  So  he  led  his 
+army  out  immediately  to  the  field,  and  camped  as  neere  the 
+enemy  as  he  could  :  being  minded  for  his  parte  to  drawe  the 
+warres  out  in  length,  that  he  might  fight  afterAvards  (if 
+neede  required)  when  he  had  recovered  strength.  But  Furius 
+364 
+
+
+•M?rwf?!m'mn'r»twm-T"fmj»fnrr»f 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+contrarilie  coveting  glorie,  was  whottely  bent  to  hazarde  the 
+
+battell,  whatsoever  perill  came  of  it :    and  to  this  cnde  he 
+
+sturred   up,  and  incoraged  the  captaines  of  everie  private 
+
+bande.     Wherfore  Camillus  fearing  least  they  should  thinke, 
+
+for  ill  will  he  bare  the  young  men,  that  he  went  about  to 
+
+hinder  and  take  awaye  the  meanes  to  winne  their  honour, 
+
+and  to  doe  some  noble  acte :  suffered  Furius  against  his  will 
+
+to  put   his  men  in  order  of  battell,  and  he  in  the  meane 
+
+season    by    reason   of   his   sicknes,    remained   ^vith   a   fewe 
+
+about  him  in  the   campe.      So  went   Lucius  upon  a  head 
+
+to  present  battell  to  the  enemie,  and  so  was  he  as  headilie 
+
+also    overthrowen.      But   Camillus    hearing   the    Romaines 
+
+were  overthrowen :  sicke  as  he  was  upon  his  bedde,  got  up, 
+
+and  taking   his   householde    servantes  with    him,   he    went 
+
+in  haste  to  the  gates  of  the  campe,  and  passed  through 
+
+those  that  fled,  untill  he  came  to  mete  with  the  enemies 
+
+that  had  them  in  chase.     The  Romaines  seeing  this  that 
+
+were  already   entred   into   the  campe,   they   followed   him 
+
+at  the  heeles  forthwith  :   and  those  that  fled  also  without, 
+
+when  they  sawe  him,  they  gathered  together,  and  put  them 
+
+selves   againe   in    arraye    before    him,   and    persuaded   one 
+
+another  not  to  forsake  their  captaine.      So  their  enemies 
+
+hereupon  stayed  their  chasing,  and  would  pursue  no  further 
+
+that  daye.      But  the  next  morning,  Camillus  leading  his 
+
+armie  into  the  fielde,  gave  them  battell,  and  wanne  the  field 
+
+of  them  by  plaine  force :  and  following  the  victorie  harde, 
+
+he  entred  amongest  them  that  fled  into  their  campe  pelmel, 
+
+or  hand  overheade,  and  slue  the  most  parte  of  them  even 
+
+there.      After   this    victorie,    he  was   advertised    howe   the 
+
+Thuscans  had  taken  the  cittie  of  Sutrium,  and  had  put  to 
+
+the  sworde  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  same,  which  were  the 
+
+Romaines  cittizens.    Whereupon  he  sent  to  Rome  the  greatest 
+
+parte  of  his  army,  and  keeping  with  him  the  lightest  and 
+
+lustiest  men,  went  and  gave  assaulte  unto  the  Thuscans,  that 
+
+nowe  were  harbored  in  the  cittie  of  Sutrium.     Which  when 
+
+he  had  wonne  againe,  he  slue  parte  of  them,  and  the  other 
+
+saved  them   selves  by  flight.      After  tliis,  he   returned  to 
+
+Rome  with  an  exceeding  spoyle,  confirming  by  experience, 
+
+the  wisedome  of  the  Romaines,  who  dyd  not  feare  the  age 
+
+365 
+
+
+FURIUS 
+CAiMlLLUS 
+
+
+Lucius  Furius 
+gave  battell  to 
+the  Praenes- 
+tines  and 
+Volsces,  and 
+was  over- 
+throwen. 
+
+
+CamiUus 
+wanne  the 
+fielde  of  the 
+Prseuestines 
+and  Volsces. 
+
+
+Camillus  slue 
+the  Thuscans 
+at  Sutrium. 
+
+
+FURIUS 
+CAMILLUS 
+
+
+Camillus  sent 
+again  against 
+the  Thuscu- 
+lanians. 
+
+
+The  crafte  of 
+the  Thuscu- 
+lanians. 
+
+
+Great  sedi- 
+tion moved 
+in  Rome  by 
+Licinius 
+Stole. 
+
+
+LIVES   OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+nor  sicknes  of  a  good  captaine  that  was  experte  and  valliant : 
+but  had  chosen  him  against  his  will,  though  he  was  both 
+olde  and  sicke,  and  preferred  him  farre  before  the  younger 
+and  lustier  that  made  sute  to  have  the  charge.  Newes  being 
+brought  unto  the  Senate,  that  the  Thusculanians  were 
+revolted,  they  sent  Camillus  thither  againe,  willing  him  of 
+five  other  companions  to  take  out  one  he  liked  best,  every  of 
+the  which  desired  to  be  chosen,  and  made  their  sute  unto 
+him  for  the  same.  But  he  refusing  all  other,  dyd  chose 
+againe  Lucius  Furius  beyounde  all  expectation  of  men,  see- 
+ing not  long  before  he  needes  would  against  his  will  hazarde 
+battell,  in  which  he  was  overthrowen.  Howbeit  Camillus, 
+having  a  desire  (as  I  thincke)  to  hyde  his  faulte  and  shame 
+he  had  receaved :  dyd  of  curtesie  preferre  him  before  all 
+other.  Nowe  the  Thusculanians  hearing  of  Camillus  coming 
+against  them,  subtilly  sought  to  culler  the  faulte  they  had 
+already  committed.  Wherefore  they  put  out  a  great  number 
+of  people  into  the  fields,  some  to  plowe,  other  to  keepe  the 
+beastes,  as  if  they  had  bene  in  best  peace :  and  dyd  set  the 
+gates  of  the  cittie  wide  open,  sent  their  children  openly  to 
+schoole,  their  artificers  wrought  their  occupation  in  their 
+shoppes,  the  men  of  haviour  and  honest  cittizens  walked  in 
+the  market  place  in  their  long  gownes,  and  the  officers  and 
+governours  of  the  cittie  went  up  and  downe  to  every  house, 
+commaunding  them  to  prepare  lodgings  for  the  Romaines, 
+as  if  they  had  stoode  in  no  feare  at  all,  and  as  though  they 
+had  committed  no  faulte.  Howbeit  all  these  fine  fetches 
+could  not  make  Camillus  beleeve,  but  that  they  had  an 
+intent  to  rebell  against  the  Romaines :  yet  they  made 
+Camillus  pittie  them,  seeing  they  repented  them  of  that 
+they  had  determined  to  doe.  So  he  commaunded  them  to 
+goe  to  Rome  to  the  Senate,  to  crave  pardone  of  their  faulte  : 
+and  he  him  selfe  dyd  helpe  them,  not  only  to  purge  their 
+cittie  of  any  intent  of  rebellion,  but  also  to  get  them  the 
+priviledge  and  freedome  of  Rome.  And  these  be  the  chiefest 
+acts  Camillus  dyd  in  the  sixt  time  of  his  tribuneshippe. 
+After  this,  one  Licinius  Stolo  moved  great  sedition  in  the 
+cittie,  betwene  the  common  people,  and  the  Senate.  For 
+he  would  in  any  case  that  of  the  two  Consuls,  which  were 
+366 
+
+
+'"""'"""f*^' 
+
+
+ffmwHrwwfm?Mwmwrrr 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+chosen  yerely,  the  one  of  them  should  be  a  commoner,  and  FURIUS 
+not  that  both  of  them  should  be  of  the  auncient  noble  CAMILLUS 
+families,  called  Patricians.  The  Tribunes  of  the  people 
+were  chosen,  but  the  election  of  the  Consuls,  the  people 
+stayed  :  so  that  the  common  wealth  went  to  decaye,  and 
+declined  to  greater  troubles,  then  ever  it  dyd  before,  for 
+lacke  of  government.  But  to  suppresse  this,  the  Senate 
+created  Camillus  the  fourth  time  Dictator :  but  this  was  Camillus 
+sore  against  his  will,  bicause  it  misliked  the  people  muclie.  created  Die- 
+Furthermore,  he  would  not  complaine  of  the  people,  for  ^^^"'*  the 
+that  they  having  served  under  him  in  many  warres  and  "  ""^* 
+battells,  might  boldely,  and  truely  saye  unto  him :  that  he 
+had  done  more  notable  acts  by  them  in  the  warres,  then  he 
+had  done  by  the  Patricians  in  peace.  Yet  was  he  created 
+Dictator  in  despight,  to  rule  the  people,  and  of  envie  in  the 
+noble  men  towards  them.  Thus  necessitie  dyd  urge  him, 
+either  by  force  to  suppresse  the  people,  if  he  were  the 
+stronger  in  this  dissention  :  or  els  that  he  him  self  should 
+be  suppressed,  if  he  became  the  weaker.  Camillus  notwith- 
+standing, preparing  to  prevent  this  mischief,  and  knowing 
+the  daye  the  Tribunes  had  determined,  to  preferre  the  pass- 
+ing of  their  lawe  by  voyces  of  the  people :  he  gave  warning 
+by  proclamations  set  upon  postes,  that  the  same  very  daye 
+he  would  muster  the  people,  and  all  was  but  to  drawe  them 
+from  the  market  place  into  the  field  of  Mars,  and  dyd  set 
+great  penalties  upon  those  that  should  be  lacking  at  the 
+musters,  and  would  presume  to  disobey.  The  Tribunes  of 
+the  people  on  the  contrarie  parte,  dyd  withstande  his 
+threates,  and  sware  they  would  condemne  Camillus  selfe  in 
+fiftie  thousand  Drachmas  of  silver,  if  he  dyd  not  let  the 
+people  alone,  but  would  goe  about  to  disturbe  them  for 
+geving  their  voyces  to  such  lawe,  as  they  liked  of.  Camillus 
+perceaving  this,  and  fearing  to  be  condemned,  and  banished 
+once  againe,  which  would  fall  out  very  ill  for  him,  being 
+nowe  an  olde  man,  and  one  that  had  done  so  many  great 
+and  notable  actes,  or  els  for  that  he  thought  him  selfe  not 
+strong  enough  to  withstande  the  force  of  the  people :  he 
+kept  his  house  that  daye,  fayning  him  selfe  to  be  sicke,  and 
+certaine  other  dayes  following,  and  in  the  ende  he  gave  up 
+
+367 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+
+FURIUS 
+CAMILLUS 
+
+
+Licinius  Stolo 
+made  a  lawe 
+for  enjoying 
+of  landes. 
+
+
+Stolo  the  first 
+offender  of 
+the  same  law. 
+
+
+The  Gaules 
+come  againe 
+to  Rome. 
+
+
+Camillus 
+chosen  Dic- 
+tator the  5 
+time. 
+
+Howe  Camillus 
+appointed  his 
+souldiers  with 
+armour  and 
+weapon  to 
+fight  with 
+advantage 
+against  the 
+Gaules. 
+
+
+his  office.  Thereupon  the  Senate  chose  in  his  place  another 
+Dictator,  who  named  the  same  Licinius  Stolo  general  of  the 
+horse  men,  that  was  the  author  and  furtherer  of  all  this 
+sedition :  and  besides  dyd  suffer  him  to  preferre  another 
+lawe,  and  to  passe  it  by  voyces  of  the  people,  that  above  all 
+other  lawes,  dyd  most  trouble  the  Patricians.  Which  lawe 
+dyd  forbid  any  cittizen  of  Rome,  to  have,  or  occupie  above 
+five  hundred  jugera,  which  amount  to  330  acres  and  a  halfe, 
+12  pole,  and  121  partes  of  a  pole.  Then  was  this  Stolo 
+alofte,  and  of  great  estimation  at  that  time  :  for  that  he  had 
+in  despite  of  the  Senate  established  this  law.  Howbeit 
+shortely  after  it  was  found  out,  that  him  self  had  more 
+number  of  acres  then  his  owne  lawe  permitted.  By  reason 
+whereof,  he  receaved  the  juste  punishment  of  his  owne 
+devised  forfaiture.  Yet  the  most  weightie  matter  of  all 
+this  dissention  that  beganne  first,  and  most  of  all  troubled 
+the  Senate,  touching  the  election  of  the  Consuls,  remained 
+still  undetermined.  But  while  these  matters  were  thus  in 
+talke,  the  Romaines  had  certen  intelligence,  howe  the  Gaules 
+were  departed  once  againe  from  the  Adriaticke  sea,  and  were 
+coming  with  a  great  power  straight  unto  Rome :  upon 
+reporte  of  which  newes,  the  warres  followed  immediately. 
+For  the  Gaules  destroyed  the  champion  country  as  they 
+went :  and  the  poore  country  men  that  could  not  recover 
+Rome,  were  scattered  here  and  there  amongest  the  moun- 
+taines.  The  feare  of  this  dyd  somewhat  appease  the  dis- 
+sention. The  people  then  assembling  with  the  Senate,  and 
+the  baser  sorte  with  the  noble,  dyd  all  with  one  voyce  and 
+assent  chuse  Camillus  Dictator  the  fifte  time.  He  was  nowe 
+a  very  olde  man,  lacking  litle  of  foure  score  yeres  :  but 
+nevertheles,  considering  the  necessitie  and  present  daunger, 
+without  framing  any  excuse,  or  starting  as  he  had  before,  he 
+undertooke  the  charge.  Nowe  that  he  had  taken  it  upon 
+him,  he  presently  levied  men,  and  prepared  his  army.  And 
+knowing  very  well  howe  the  fiercenes  of  these  barbarous 
+Gaules  consisted,  in  downe  right  blowes  with  their  swordes, 
+with  which  they  would  strike  of  heades  and  shoulders  of 
+men  at  a  blowe,  mangling  them  like  bouchers,  without  any 
+cast  or  skyll  of  fight :  he  caused  iron  salletts,  and  morians  to 
+368 
+
+
+'fWWfffWft*wntmm 
+
+
+■iniH.iiii.imii 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+be  made  for  the  most  of  his  men,  as  smoothely  wrought  on      FLTRIUS 
+the  out  side  as  could  be,  that  their  swordes  lighting  on  them,    CAMILLUS 
+should  either  slyde  of,  or  breake.    Moreover,  he  caused  their 
+sheldes  to  have  barres  made  about  them  of  copper,  bicause 
+the  wodde  selfe  was  not  able  to  abide  their  blowes.    Further- 
+more, he  dyd  teache  his  souldiers  to  cary  long  javelines  or 
+punchion  staves,  wherewith  they  might  wounde  their  enemies 
+lifting  up  their  swordes  to  strike  them.     Nowe  when  the 
+Gaules  were  come  neere  Rome,  having  pitched  their  campe 
+upon  the  river  of  Anian,  and  being  full  loden  and  stuffed  Anies  fl, 
+with  all  kindes  of  spoyle  and  booties  :  then  Camillus  brought 
+his  armie  also  into  the  fielde,  and  went  to  lodge  on  a  litle 
+hill  which  was  easie  to  get  upon,  where  there  were  many 
+litle  caves,  so  that  the  most  of  his  army  was  all  hidden  and 
+covered,  and  those  that  were  seene,  seemed  to  be  retired  * 
+
+thither  into  those  highe  places  for  an  advantage,  and  of 
+feare.  Camillus  to  increase  this  opinion  more  in  his  enemies, 
+and  to  make  them  the  bolder :  dyd  suffer  them  to  come  and 
+spoyle  even  to  the  foote  of  the  hill  where  he  was  lodged, 
+and  stirred  not  once  out  to  trouble  them,  but  kept  him  selfe 
+quiet  in  his  campe  and  well  fortified.  Untill  such  time  as 
+he  spyed  occasion  of  advantage,  that  the  best  parte  of  their 
+army  were  scattered  here  and  there,  a  forraging  all  about 
+the  fieldes :  and  those  which  remained  in  their  campe,  fell  to 
+eating  and  drincking,  as  they  used  carelesly  at  all  howres. 
+Then  Camillus  sent  very  early  before  daye,  his  lightest 
+armed  men,  to  vexe  and  trouble  the  barbarous  people  in 
+coming  out  of  their  campe,  and  to  let  them  in  any  case  from 
+putting  their  men  in  order  of  battell :  and  he  at  the  breake 
+of  daye,  came  downe  into  the  plaine,  and  dyd  set  his  other 
+men  being  well  armed,  in  good  array e,  which  were  a  great 
+number,  and  lustie  fellowes,  and  were  not  as  the  barbarous 
+people  thought,  fewe,  and  fearefuU.  This  at  the  very  first 
+discoraged  the  hartes  of  the  Gaules  marvelously,  bicause 
+they  thought  them  selves  dishonored,  that  the  Romaines 
+should  charge  upon  them  first.  Afterwardes  also  Camillus 
+vantgarde  dyd  set  upon  the  Gaules,  and  that  on  a  sodaine, 
+before  they  had  leysure  to  put  them  selves  in  battell,  or  to 
+order  their  troupes  :  compelling  them  to  fight  without  order, 
+3  A  369 
+
+
+FURIUS 
+CAMILLUS 
+
+
+Camillus  slue 
+the  Gaules 
+againe. 
+
+
+TheRomaines 
+howe  they 
+exempted 
+priestes  from 
+the  warres. 
+
+
+LIVES    OF   THE   NOBLE 
+
+as  they  met  out  of  order  by  chaunce.  In  the  ende  also, 
+Camillus  came  upon  the  neckes  of  them,  with  all  his  whole 
+force,  and  army  together  :  against  whom  they  ranne  not- 
+withstanding, holding  up  their  naked  swordes  alofte  in  their 
+handes.  But  the  Romaines  thrusting  with  their  armed 
+javelinges,  receaved  their  enemies  blowes  upon  them,  and 
+thereby  so  rebated  the  edges  of  their  swordes  (their  blades 
+being  very  sharpe  and  thinne  grounde,  and  of  so  softe  a 
+temper)  that  they  bowed  againe,  and  stoode  crooked  un- 
+reasonably :  and  furthermore,  having  persed  their  shieldes 
+through  with  their  punchingstaves,  the  Gaules  armes  were  so 
+clogd  and  wearied  with  them,  the  Romaines  plucking  them 
+backe  to  them  againe,  that  they  threw  away  their  swordes 
+and  shieldes,  and  flying  in,  closed  with  the  Romaines,  and 
+caught  holde  of  their  javelines,  thincking  by  plaine  force  to 
+have  wrested  them  out  of  their  handes.  Howbeit  they  per- 
+ceaving  then  the  Gaules  were  naked,  fell  straight  to  their 
+swordes :  and  so  was  the  slaughter  of  their  first  ranckes 
+very  great.  The  other  fled  scatteringly  here  and  there,  all 
+about  the  plaine  :  bicause  Camillus  had  caused  all  the  hilles 
+and  mountaines  about  them  to  be  occupied  and  possessed. 
+Neither  dyd  they  retire  towardes  their  campe,  for  that  it 
+was  unfortified,  and  also  knewe  well  enough  it  would  be 
+easely  taken.  This  battell  (as  they  saye)  was  thirteene  yeres 
+after  their  taking  of  Rome  before.  But  after  that  fielde, 
+the  Romaines  corages  were  good  enough  against  these  bar- 
+barous Gaules,  whom  they  stoode  in  feare  of  before :  thinck- 
+ing the  first  time  they  came,  that  they  had  not  overcomed 
+them  by  force,  but  by  reason  of  the  plague  that  fell  amongest 
+them,  or  through  some  other  straunge  chaunce.  For  they 
+dyd  so  feare  them  at  that  time,  that  they  made  a  lawe,  howe 
+their  priestes  should  be  exempted  from  warres,  so  it  were 
+not  against  the  Gaules.  This  overthrowe  was  the  last  mar- 
+shall  acte  Camillus  dyd  in  the  warres.  For,  the  taking  of 
+the  cittie  of  Velitres,  was  an  accident  depending  upon  this 
+jorney :  bicause  they  yelded  straight  unto  him,  without 
+striking  any  stroke.  But  the  seditiousnes  of  the  people  of 
+Rome  about  government,  and  the  choosing  of  the  yere 
+Consuls,  was  the  hardest  matter  he  ever  had  in  hande.  For 
+370 
+
+
+Hf^?f<HffJfWf»WWff?!m*wnn*tn' 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+they  returning  home  to  Rome  stronge,  and  of  greate  power, 
+by  their  late  obteined  victorie :  woulde  in  any  case  have  one 
+of  the  Consuls  to  be  chosen  of  a  commoner,  which  was 
+directly  against  their  auncient  custome.  But  the  Senate 
+stowtely  withstoode  it,  and  would  not  suffer  Camillus  to  be 
+put  out  of  office :  hoping  the  better  by  meanes  of  his  autho- 
+ritie,  which  was  greate  then,  that  they  should  mainteine  and 
+continue  their  auncient  dignitie,  and  prerogative  of  their 
+nobilitie.  But  as  Camillus  was  set  in  his  chayer  in  the 
+market  place,  where  he  hearde  and  dispatched  causes  :  there 
+came  a  sergeante  to  him,  sent  from  the  Tribunes  of  the 
+people,  who  commaunded  him  to  followe  him,  and  there 
+withall  layed  violent  handes  upon  him,  as  he  woulde  have 
+caried  him  awaye  by  force.  This  made  suche  a  terrible 
+tumulte  and  uprore,  that  the  like  was  never  seene  before  in 
+the  market  place.  For  Camillus  friendes  drave  the  sergeaunte 
+backe  behinde  the  chayer.  The  common  people  cried  out 
+againe  to  the  sergeant  from  beneath :  Pull  him  out  of  his 
+chayer.  This  so  amazed  Camillus,  that  he  knew  not  well 
+what  to  saye  to  the  matter.  Notwithstanding,  he  would 
+not  resigne  up  his  office,  but  taking  those  Senatours  he  had 
+about  him,  he  went  unto  the  place  where  the  Senate  was 
+wont  to  be  kept.  And  there,  before  he  would  goe  into  it, 
+he  returned  backe  againe  unto  the  CapitoU,  and  made  his 
+prayer  unto  the  goddes,  that  it  would  please  them  to  bring 
+his  troubles  againe  to  a  quiet,  and  so  made  a  solemne  vowe 
+and  promise  (if  these  tumultes  and  troubles  might  be  pacified) 
+that  he  woulde  builde  a  temple  of  Concorde.  When  this 
+matter  came  to  debating  before  the  Senate,  there  fell  great 
+contention  and  diversitie  of  opinions  among  them :  yet  in 
+the  ende,  the  easiest  waye  dyd  carie  it,  and  that  was  to 
+graunt  the  common  peoples  desire,  that  a  commoner  should 
+be  chosen  Consul  with  a  noble  man.  The  Dictator  having 
+openly  published  to  the  people  the  Senates  decree,  confirm- 
+ing their  desire:  the  common  people  were  so  joyfull,  that 
+at  that  presente  they  let  fall  all  their  malice  against  the 
+Nobilitie  and  Senate,  and  brought  Camillus  home  to  his 
+house,  with  greate  showtes  of  joye,  and  clapping  of  handes. 
+The  next  morning  all  the  people  being  assembled  together 
+
+371 
+
+
+FURIUS 
+CAMILLU 
+
+
+Sedition  at 
+Rome  about 
+choosing  of 
+Consuls. 
+
+
+Policy  to  ye 
+to  necessiti( 
+A  commone 
+chosen  Cons 
+with  a  nobL 
+man. 
+
+
+FURIUS 
+CAMILLUS 
+
+
+Marcus  ^mi- 
+lius^  Lucius 
+Sextus  Con- 
+suls. 
+
+
+Camillus  died 
+of  the  plague. 
+
+
+GRECIANS    AND    ROMANES 
+
+in  the  market  place,  it  was  there  decreed :  that  the  temple 
+of  Concorde  should  be  built  at  the  common  wealthes  charge 
+(according  to  the  vowe  Camillus  had  made)  in  such  a  place, 
+as  it  might  be  scene  from  the  market  place  selfe,  where  all 
+the  assemblies  for  matters  of  counsel!  were  made.  And 
+further,  it  was  ordered  that  one  daye  more  should  be  added 
+to  the  feastes  of  the  Latines :  and  that  from  thenceforth 
+they  should  solemnise  foure  festivall  dayes,  and  should  pre- 
+sently make  generall  sacrifices  unto  the  goddes,  in  everie 
+temple  of  the  cittie,  to  geve  them  thanckes  :  and  in  token  of 
+joye,  they  should  all  weare  garlands  upon  their  heades  for 
+this  reconciliation.  So  Camillus  proceeding  to  election, 
+there  were  chosen  two  Consuls,  Marcus  ^Emilius  of  the 
+noble  Patricians,  and  Lucius  Sextus  of  the  Plebeians  or 
+commoners.  And  this  was  the  laste  acte  that  ever  Ca- 
+millus dyd.  For,  the  next  yere  after,  the  plague  was  in 
+Rome,  and  tooke  awaye  an  infinite  number  of  people 
+that  dyed,  besides  many  magistrates  and  officers  of  the 
+cittie  that  departed :  among  whom,  Camillus  also  left 
+his  life.  Who  notwithstanding  he  had  lived  a  long  time, 
+and  had  ended  a  reasonable  course  of  life :  yet  he  was  as 
+ready  to  dye,  and  as  paciently  tooke  his  death,  as  any  man 
+living  could  have  done.  Moreover,  the  Romaines  made 
+more  mone  and  lamentation  for  his  deathe  alone,  then 
+for  all  the  rest  the  plague  had  already  consumed. 
+
+THE  ENDE  OF  FURIUS  CAMILLUS  LIFE 
+
+
+ti 
+
+
+372 
+
+
+IHf  ffHitfHmf J?m?rpmr?f  fnm?Wfmmm»nrr  jmtttrfrht 
+
+
+^ 
+
+
+EDINBURGH 
+
+T.   &*  A.   CONSTABLE 
+
+Printers  to  Her  Majesty 
+
+1895 
+
+
+i:u^^iiL 
+
+
+'m^li»mf^i*f^iim*m^vm^m\wtftmmut 
+
+
+:vH'f*fffff?ffff^Mff^f*»ff^'rf*f?^^^ 
+
+
+J  ??i'nn!! 
+
+
+-?w^?»?f?fHfffH?^?*??f^ 
+
+
+•1  «i  lj*t/ 
+
+
+■4 — 
+
+
+University  of  Tor 
+Library 
+
+
+DO  NOT 
+
+REMOVE 
+
+THE 
+
+CARD 
+
+FROM 
+
+THIS 
+
+POCKET 
+
+
+Acm«  Library  Card  Poci 
+LOWE-MARTIN  CO.  LIMI 
+
+
diff --git a/year4/semester2/CT414/assignments/assignment2/data/shakespeare_complete_works.txt b/year4/semester2/CT414/assignments/assignment2/data/shakespeare_complete_works.txt
new file mode 100644
index 00000000..b310f4aa
--- /dev/null
+++ b/year4/semester2/CT414/assignments/assignment2/data/shakespeare_complete_works.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,254096 @@
+eT et 
+
+
+4 se - » 
+” 
+a 
+oe d gs 
+eS 
+i 
+‘ 
+{ 
+
+
+tg 
+naa 
+r 
+
+
+eerie 
+aes ek aie 
+ee 
+
+
+sate 
+
+
+- Digitized by the Internet J \rehive 
+in 2024 — 
+
+
+s fe 
+i 
+— —_ 
+SEES > ai 
+fan as a L ’ 
+4 - - 
+re Se m ‘s 
+=e * Pa 
+
+
+- 
+
+
+Ree.) 
+
+
+/archive. org/details/completeworksofwO000vari_ [808 
+
+
+From the painting by Sir John Gilbert, R.A., P,R.W.S., in the Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool, 
+
+
+Richard resigning the crown to Bolingbroke (“Richard II”). 
+
+
+Rich. “.... Here, cousin, seize the crown: 
+On this side my hand, and on that side yours.” 
+ACT Iv., Sc. 1, 
+
+
+= 
+
+
+THE COMPLETE WORKS OF 
+
+
+WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 
+
+
+EDITED BY 
+
+
+WILLIAM GEORGE CLARK 
+AND WILLIAM ALDIS WRIGHT 
+
+
+WITH COMPLETE NOTES OF 
+
+
+THE TEMPLE SHAKESPEARE 
+BY 
+ISRAEL GOLLANCZ 
+
+
+GROSSsET, & DUNLAP 
+PUBLISHERS. NEW YORK 
+
+
+UC Chee es 
+
+
+[ 
+j 
+
+
+Sa 
+
+
+t 
+
+
+STATES 0 
+2 a 
++, 
+
+
+Ape: 
+‘¥ 72 
+-" 
+2 
+Ne a 
+Cees 7 
+
+
+D IN 
+
+
+r 
+
+
+Bie 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+EDITOR’S PREFACE 
+
+
+TO THE GLOBE EDITION 
+
+
+. . IN preparing the text of this volume, we have in 
+general followed the same rules as in the so-called 
+iM “ Cambridge Shakespeare”: rules which we adopted 
+
+
+0 Beirally after much deliberation, and of which the 
+
+
+to decide with confidence which, if any, of several sug- 
+gested emendations is right, we have in the “ Cam- 
+
+
+: in this edition, we have substituted in the text 
+emendation which seemed most probable, or in 
+s of absolute equality, the earliest suggested. But 
+whole number of such variations between the texts 
+of the two editions is very small. 
+
+In this volume, whenever the original text has been 
+) ‘upted in such a way as to affect the sense, no 
+idmissible emendation having been proposed, or when- 
+
+
+eh 
+
+
+4 
+Ta 
+. 
+
+
+ae 
+te 
+
+
+vi EDITOR'S PREFACE 
+
+
+ever a lacuna occurs too great to be filled up with any 
+approach to certainty by conjecture, we have marked 
+the passage with an obelus (7). 
+
+As in the larger work, we have numbered the lines 
+of each scene for convenience of reference. 
+
+In the stage directions we have preserved as far as 
+we could, consistently with clearness, the language of 
+the oldest texts. 
+
+We trust that the title which has been chosen for 
+the present edition will neither be thought presumptuous 
+nor be found inappropriate. It seems indeed safe to 
+predict that any volume which presents, in a convenient 
+form, with clear type and at a moderate cost, the com- 
+plete works of the foremost man in all literature, the 
+greatest master of the language most widely spoken 
+among men, will make its way to the remotest corners 
+of the habitable globe. 
+
+WILLIAM GEORGE CLARK. 
+WILLIAM ALDIS WRIGHT. 
+
+
+TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE, 
+November, 1864. 
+
+
+In revising the present edition for the press it was 
+found desirable to retain the original numbering of the 
+lines, so as not to disturb the references in Schmidt’s 
+Shakespeare’ Lexicon and Bartlett’s Concordance to 
+Shakespeare. 
+
+W. A: W3 
+
+
+IQII. 
+
+
+CONTENTS 
+
+
+URE FOR MEASURE , . : < ‘ A a é : : 82 
+1 CoMEDY oF ERRorS 5 3 - ‘ ‘. , ; ‘ 5 By AUS: 
+Beer NOTHING. 260 a A a ee) oe Og IBS 
+
+
+. F a - Pr 5 : ; , Baie bes 
+e MERCHANT OF VENICE . F 5 = - Z A > A : WIN 
+ats 
+7 
+
+
+MAMIE sows. te, le + > Ue) Mar iWee atime | ~ iets wR DAG! 
+
+
+Pn =. 
+
+
+AMING OF THE SHREW . é ‘ 3 E A r 4 é Pe Ph) 
+LFTH NIGHT; or, WitaT You WiLL. R A b ; : : Pees. 23 
+i NE le a ere arc or arreanyme Fee 27) 
+
+
+MEEMABDEDEATH OF KINGIJOHN . 8. .. 5 «2 lie os «6s 406 
+
+
+Tracepy oF Kine Ricuarp Il. . 2 i é F ‘ ; ‘ . 437 
+£ oF Kinc Henry V. : % 3 5 ; 5 : ‘ a ato4 | 
+iT ainD Part or Kinc Henry VI. . ; , : 4 A 6 - 649 
+
+
+Tracepy oF Kinc Ricuarp Ill... : ? , : . a 5 aley/ 
+
+
+ers, Reeve 5 é 5:1) Oat. os eds) 
+
+
+i attes zs aes 
+
+os . : 
+ie Timon or ATHENS . 5 5 4 5 5 3 
+A A ULIUS GAS AR Reon Seen tee e scuMe Re ttt eis 
+om ‘MacseTH 3 és : 3 3 : 0 0 
+‘3 Hamtet, Prince or DENMARK 5 «6g 
+oF RING REAR OS vpn. wks oon cae hear vine 
+iy OrteLLo, THE Moor of VENICE ~ ww 
+i ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA ig 6 3 
+\O RENMEELINES Wot, o> ap eee ye 
+i PERICLES SP Ce NOIRE 9k, a ae re 
+an 
+i POEMS 
+pi MENUSAAND ADONIS. sili) SAE DN ain tee 
+bier RAPEloS ILUCREGE..0 obec h wetoeeie Oe 
+‘ SonNETs: pe Seo. ety cus hy ee 
+be PARICOVERSYCOMPRAINTing?. «i Ad toon) donee 
+. - Tue Passionate Pitcrim . 2 . aa 5 
+
+
+SonNETs To suNpRY Notes or Music . .  . 
+INDEX OF CHARACTERS . , : “ 4 s 
+INDEx of First Lines of SONNETS . 4, 
+THe TEMPLE SHAKESPEARE Notes . . . 
+
+
+RGU OSSARY MM Gr bur xine fo Mery eS aaa 
+
+
+ee ee 1D Rae Pe Tee TE 
+
+
+> ot Ts ae Bes has A aL? 
+
+
+INDEX TO NOTES 
+
+
+“ 2 PAGE 
+
+
+Wei reAMENDSMWVELT 0 est) Tice PAUSE on fives evoke vs |i tis Ni ta VI DAZ 
+Y BIMECEEOPATRA 9. «., A setite 4 Pee ii OO ee? 
+MIE ke oa Se ee ee Lae atic Sala 
+ae ma aa aR pe 
+Be a: a BE 
+BP tine eine gil ood 
+‘History OF THE Lire or Kine Henry VIII, THe. . .« «~~ « 1373 
+te Riehies bikin foemetia ) Sdbaeloee 
+
+ue re he +t eH) peepus ew tae oe iiee, kag el Om 
+MCh Pinst PART. OF). ines LS ke ee 
+ry IV, THE Seconp Part oF i ° ‘ 5 : 5 * - 1353) 
+a RY RPALIEPEIRSTADART OF s> “eh nce ‘so fay avec Sot. she ee DOD 
+RY VI, THE Seconp Part oF c 5 As ie oS ak eee 5 Wey 
+Meee(ue Trim Parror. 9) 5. skew 18 
+I eh cc ee NN i aoe ee eee 
+AND DEATH or Kinc JouN, THE “ : 2 : 3 rs ‘ . 1347 
+SES ite ye ce ak in, og eee 
+OMPLAINT, A oie ete, «hee ny aivelnet da eae Purr ers a ae 
+
+
+Bour’s Lost . 4 ce * = = 5 c . . Sf liSek! 
+
+
+MMEEROURE pw Were og ey Ma 1329 
+
+oF VENICE, THE . in oi Se <6.9 Lueh ls 6 ee ween OSG 
+BePMOF WINDSORAMIHE S| Sen clns vet sn. oy )peus  ceumeien, top| Sod 
+
+EIGHT, Si REAM MA fe ie, (fehl o “Ae: Firs MOMMA ks 1335 
+
+1A POMBO: NOTHINGHIMMEES lcs) «| Weve!) \\s Xela telleme vely i enna 
+
+
+0, EER MIGORLOF VENICE JMmute”) ed) cw | te ELA 
+
+
+~~ 
+
+
+PERICLES 5 6 6 ‘ . 5 
+
+
+, Rape or Lucrece, THE 6 . 3 
+
+
+IROMEOMAND s ULIETIN .lumiteunl ms: unre 
+Ln! SONNETS ‘ § . < , f 
+‘TAMING OF THE SHREW, THE 6 é 
+Tempest, THE . i $ , i 
+‘Timon of ATHENS. é fe : 
+Titus ANDRONICUS . Sal oo 
+Tracepy or Kine Ricuarp Il, THE. 
+‘Tracepy oF Kine Ricnarp II], THE . 
+‘TROILUS AND CRESSIDA . . . 6 
+TweitrtH NicHT; cx, WHat You WILL 
+Two GENTLEMEN OF VERONA, THE . 
+
+Venus AND ADONIS . cs : P 
+
+
+‘Winter's Tate, THE . fs; F 6 
+
+
+THE TEMPEST 
+
+
+DRAMATIS 
+
+
+Axonso, King of Naples. 
+
+SEBASTIAN, his brother. 
+
+Prospero, the right Duke of Milan. 
+
+AnTOonio, his brother, the usurping Duke of 
+Milan. 
+
+FERDINAND, son to the King of Naples, 
+
+GoNZALO, an honest old Counsellor. 
+
+ADRIAN, t lictds 
+
+FRANCISCO, : 
+
+CALIBAN, a savage and deformed Slave. 
+
+TRINCULO, a Jester. 
+
+SrEPHANO, a drunken Butler. 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+
+
+Scene I. On a ship at sea: a tempestuous 
+noise of thunder and lightning heard. 
+Enter a Ship-Master and a Boatswain, 
+
+Mast. Boatswain! 
+
+Boats. Here, master: what cheer? 
+
+Mast. Good, speak to the mariners: fall 
+to’t, yarely, or we run ourselves aground: 
+bestir, bestir. [Exit. 
+
+
+Enter Mariners. 
+
+
+Boats. Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, 
+my hearts! yare, yare! Take in the topsail. 
+Tend to the master’s whistle. Blow, till thou 
+burst thy wind, if room enough! 
+
+
+Enter Atonso, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, FER- 
+DINAND, GONZALO, and others. 
+
+
+Alon, Good boatswain, have care. Where's 
+
+
+the master? Play the men. 11 
+Boats. I pray now, keep below. 
+Ant. Where is the master, boatswain ? 
+
+
+Boats.. Do you not hear him? You mar 
+our labour: keep your cabins: you do assist 
+the storm. 
+
+
+Gon. Nay, good, be patient. 
+
+Boats. When the sea is. Hence! What 
+cares these roarers for the name of king? To 
+cabin: silence! trouble us not. 
+
+Gon. Good, yet remember whom thou 
+hast aboard. 2l 
+
+
+Boats. None that I more love than my- 
+self. You are a counsellor; if you can com- 
+mand these elements to silence, and work the 
+peace of the present, we will not hand a 
+rope more; use your authority: if you cannot, 
+yive thanks you have lived so Jong, and make 
+
+
+PERSON: 
+Master of a Ship. 
+
+
+Boatswain, 
+
+Mariners. 
+
+Miranpa, daughter to Prospero, 
+ARIEL, an airy Spirit. 
+
+
+Ir1s, 
+
+CFREs, 
+
+JuNo, \ presented by Spirits, 
+Nymphs, 
+
+Reapers, J 
+
+
+Other Spirits attending on Prospero, 
+Scene—A Ship at Sea: an island. 
+
+
+yourself ready in your cabin for the mis- 
+chance of the hour, if it so hap. Cheerly, 
+good hearts! Out of our way, I| say. [Exit 
+
+Gon. I have great comfort from this fel- 
+low: methinks he hath no drowning mark 
+upon him; his complexion is perfect gallows. 
+Stand fast, good Fate, to his hanging: make 
+the rope of his destiny our cable, for our own 
+doth little advantage. If he be not born to 
+be hanged, our case is miserable. [Exeunt 
+
+
+Re-enter Boatswain. 
+
+
+Boats. Down with the topmast! yare! 
+lower, lower{ Bring her to try with main- 
+course. [A cry within.] A plague upon 
+this howling! they are louder than the 
+weather or our office. 40 
+
+
+Re-enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and 
+GOoNZALO, 
+
+
+Yet again! what do you here? Shall we 
+give o'er and drown? Have you a mind to sink ? 
+
+Seb. A pox o’ your throat, you bawling, 
+blasphemous, incharitable dog! 
+
+Boats. Work you then. 
+
+Ant. Hang, cur! hang, you whoreson, in- 
+solent noisemaker! We are less afraid to 
+be drowned than thou art. 
+
+Gon. I'll warrant him for drowning; 
+though the ship were no stronger than a nut- 
+shell and as leaky as an unstaunched wench, 
+
+Boats. Lay her a-hold, a-hold! set ‘her 
+two courses off to sea again: lay her off. 
+
+Enter Mariners wet. 
+Mariners. All lost! to prayers, to prayers! 
+
+
+all lost! 
+
+
+Boats. What, must our mouths be cold? 
+
+
+2 THE TEMPEST 
+
+
+Gon. The king and prince at prayers! 
+let's assist them. 
+For our case is as theirs. 
+Seb. I’m out of patience. 
+Ant. We are merely cheated of our lives 
+by drunkards: 
+This wide-chapp’d rascal—would thou mightst 
+lie drowning 60 
+The washing of ten tides! 
+
+Gon. He'll be hang'd yet, 
+Though every drop of water swear against it 
+And gape at widest to glut him. 
+
+[A confused noise within: Mercy on us!— 
+
+
+“We split, we split! "—’ Farewell my wife 
+and children! "— 
+* Farewell, brother! '"~—' We split, we split, 
+
+
+we split!’] 
+
+Ant. Let's all sink with the king, 
+Seb. Let's take leave of him, 
+
+[Exeunt Ant. and Seb. 
+Gon. Now would I give a thousand fur- 
+longs of sea for an acre of barren ground, 
+long heath, brown furze, ary thing. The 
+wills above be done! but I would fain die 
+a dry death. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. The island. Before PRosPERO's cell, 
+Enter Prospero and Miranpa. 
+
+
+Mir. If by your art, my dearest father, 
+
+you have 
+
+Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them. 
+
+The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking 
+pitch, 
+
+But that the sea, mounting to the welkin’s cheek. 
+
+Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffer’d 
+
+With those that I saw suffer: a brave vessel, 
+
+Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her, 
+
+Dash’d all to pieces. O, the cry did knock 
+
+Against my very leart. Poor souls, they 
+perish'd. 
+
+Had I beea any god of power, I would 10 
+
+Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere 
+
+It should the good ship so have swallow’d and 
+
+The fraughting souls within her. 
+
+Pros. Be collected: 
+No more amazement: tell your piteous heart 
+There ’s no Larm done. 
+
+Mir. O, woe the day! 
+
+Pros. No harm. 
+I have done nothing but in care of thee, 
+Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who 
+Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing 
+Of whence I am, nor that I am more better 
+Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell, 20 
+And thy no greater father. 
+
+Mir. More to know 
+Did never meddle with my thoughts. 
+
+Pros. ‘Tis time 
+
+
+I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand, 
+
+
+And pluck my magic garment from me. So: 
+[Lays down his mantle. 
+
+Lie there, my art, Wipe thou thine eyes; have 
+
+comfort. 
+The direful spectacle of the wreck, which 
+touch’d 
+
+The very virtue of compassion in thee, 
+
+I have with such provision in mine art 
+
+So safely ordered that there is no soul— 
+
+No, not so much perdition as an hair 
+
+Betid to any creature in the vessel 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+Which thou heard’st cry, which thou saw’st 
+
+
+sink. Sit down; 
+For thou must now know farther. 
+
+Mir. You have often 
+Begun to tell me what I am, but stopp’d 
+And left me to a bootless inquisition, 
+Concluding * Stay: not yet.’ 
+
+Pros. The hour ’s now come; 
+The very minute bids thee ope thine ear; 
+Obey and be attentive. Canst thou remember 
+A time before we came unto this cell? 
+
+I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast 
+
+
+not , 40 
+Out three years old, 
+Mir. Certainly, sir, I can. 
+Pros. By what? by any other house or 
+
+
+person ? 
+Of any thing the image iell me that 
+Hath kept with thy remembrance. 
+
+Mir. ‘Tis far off 
+And rather like a dream than an assurance 
+That my remembrance warrants. Had I not 
+Four or five women once that tended me? 
+
+Pros. Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. 
+
+But how is it 
+That this lives in shy mind? What seest 
+thou else ’ 
+
+
+In the dark backward and abysm of time? 50 
+
+
+If thou remember'st aught ere thou camest here, 
+How thou camest here thou mayst. 
+Mi. But that I do not, 
+Pros. Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve 
+year since, 
+Thy father was the Duke of Milan and 
+A prince of power. 
+Mir. Sir, are not you my father? 
+Pros. Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and 
+She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father 
+Was Duke of Milan; and thou his only heir 
+And princess no worse issued, 
+
+
+Mir. O the heavens! 
+What foul play had we, that 
+
+
+we came from 
+
+
+thence ? 
+Or blessed wast we did? 
+Pros. Both, both, my girl: 
+
+
+By foul play, as thou say’st, were we heaved 
+thence, 
+
+
+But blessedly holp hither. 
+
+
+[Act I, Sc. Il 
+
+
+e ‘Act +] NSe: 11] 
+
+
+THE TEMPEST 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+Mir. O, my heart bleeds 
+To think o’ the teen that I have turn’d you to, 
+Which is from my remembrance! Please 
+you, farther. 
+Pros. My brother and thy uncle, call'd 
+ntonio— 
+I pray thee, mark me—that a brother should 
+Be so perfidious!—he whom next thyself 
+Of all the world I loved and to him put 
+__ The manage of my state; as at that time 
+_ Through all the signories it was the first 
+And Prospero the prime duke, being so re- 
+puted 2 
+In dignity, and for the liberal arts 
+Without a parallel; those being all my study, 
+The government I cast upon my brother 
+And to my state grew stranger, being trans- 
+ported 
+And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle— 
+Dost thou attend me? 
+Sir, most heedfully. 
+Being once perfected how to grant 
+
+
+70 
+
+
+How to deny them, who to advance and 
+who 80 
+
+Fo trash for over-topping, new created 
+
+The creatures that were mine, I say, 
+changed ‘em, 
+
+Or else new form'd ’em; having both the key 
+
+Of officer and office, set all hearts i’ the state 
+
+To what tune pleased his ear; that now he was 
+
+The ivy which had hid my princely trunk, 
+
+And suck’d my verdure out on ‘t. Thou at- 
+tend’st not. 
+
+Miz. O, good sir, I do. 
+
+Pros. I pray thee, mark me. 
+I, thus neglecting worldly ends, and dedicated 
+_ To closeness and the bettering of my mind 90 
+With that which, but by being so retired, 
+O’er-prized all popular rate, in my false brother 
+Awaked an evil nature; and my trust, 
+Like a good parent, did beget of him 
+A falsehood in its contrary as great 
+As my trust was; which had indeed no limit, 
+
+
+or 
+
+
+A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded,| 
+
+
+_ Not only with what my revenue yielded, 
+
+
+But what my power might else exact, like one 
+
+
++ Who having into truth, by telling of it, 100 
+Made such a sinner of his memory, 
+
+To credit his own lie, he did believe 
+
+He was indeed the duke; out o’ the substitution, 
+
+And executing the outward face of royalty, 
+With all prerogative: hence his ambition 
+
+growing— 
+ , Dost thou hear? 
+Mir. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. 
+Pros. To have no screen between this part 
+
+he play’d 
+Ana him he play’d it for, he needs will be 
+
+
+Absolute Milan. Me, poor man, my library 
+Was dukedom large enough: of temporal 
+royalties 110 
+He thinks me now incapable; confederates— 
+So dry he was for sway—wi’ the King of 
+Naples 
+To give him annual tribute, do him homage, ~ 
+Subject his coronet to his crown and bend 
+The dukedom yet unbow’d—alas, poor 
+Milan! — 
+To most ignoble stooping. 
+Mir. O the heavens! 
+Pros. Mark his condition and the event; 
+then tell me 
+If this might be e brother. 
+
+Mir. I should sin 
+To think but nobly of my grandmother: 
+Good wombs have borne bad sons. 
+
+Pros. Now the condition. 
+This King of Naples, being an enemy 
+To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suid; 
+Which was, that he, in lieu o’ the premases 
+Of homage and I know not how much tribuie, 
+Should presently extirpate me and mine 
+Out of the dukedom and confer fair Milan 
+With all the honours on my brother: whereon, 
+A treacherous army levied, one midnight » 
+Fated to the purpose did Antonio open 
+The gates of Milan, and, i’ the dead of. 
+
+darkness, 130 
+The ministers for the purpose hurried thence 
+Me and thy crying self. 
+
+Mir. Alack, for pity! 
+
+I, not remembering haw I cried out then, 
+Will cry it o'er again: it is a hint 
+That wrings mine eyes to ‘t. 
+
+Pros. Hear a little further 
+And. then I'll bring thee to the present business 
+Which now’s upon’s; without the which this 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+story 
+Were most impertinent. 
+Mir. Wherefore did they net 
+
+
+| That hour destroy us? 
+
+
+Pres. Well demanded, wince 
+My tale provokes that question. Dear, they 
+durst not, 140 
+
+
+So dear the love my people bore me, nor set 
+
+A mark so bloody on the business; but 
+
+With colours fairer painted their foul ends. 
+
+In few, they hurried us aboard a bark, 
+
+Bore us some leagues to sea; where they pre- 
+pared 
+
+A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg’d, 
+
+Nor tackle, sail, aor mast; the very rats 
+
+Instinctively have quit it: there they hoist 
+us, 
+
+To cry to the sea that roar'd to us, to sigh 
+
+To the winds whose pity, sighing back again, 
+
+} Did us but loving wrong. 
+
+
+4 THE TEMPEST 
+
+
+{Acr I, Sc. ht 
+
+
+Mir. Alack, what trouble 151 
+Was I then to you! 
+> Pros. O, a cherubin 
+
+
+Thou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst 
+smile, 
+
+fafused with a fortitude from heaven, 
+
+When I have deck'd the sea with drops full 
+salt, 
+
+Uader my burthen groan’d; which raised in me 
+
+An undergoing stomach, to bear up 
+
+Against what should ensue. 
+
+Vir. How came we ashore? 
+
+Pros. By. Providence divine. 
+
+Some food we had and some fresh water that 
+A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, 161 
+Out of his charity, who being then appointed 
+Master of this design, did give us, with 
+Rich garments, linens, stuffs and necessaries, 
+Which since have steaded much; so, of his 
+gentleness, 
+
+Knowing I loved my books, he furnish’d me 
+From mine own library with volumes that 
+
+i prize above my dukedom. 
+
+Mir. 
+
+But ever see that man! 
+
+Pros. Now I arise: [Resumes his mantle. 
+Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. 
+Here in this island we arrived; and here 171 
+Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more 
+
+profit 
+Yan other princesses can that have more time 
+For vainer hours and tutors not so careful. 
+Mir, Heavens ‘thank you for ‘t! And 
+now,-I: pray you, sir, 
+For still "tis beating in my mind, your reason 
+For raising this sea-storm? 
+
+Pros. Know thus far forth. 
+By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune, 
+Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies 
+Brought to this shore; and by my prescience 
+i find my zenith doth depend upon 18] 
+A most auspicious star, whose influence 
+if now I court not but omit, my fortunes 
+Will ever after droop. Here cease more 
+
+questions: 
+Thou art inclined to sleep; ‘tis a good dulness, 
+And give it way: I know thou canst not 
+choose: [Miranda sleeps. 
+Come away, servant, come. I am ready now. 
+Approach, my Ariel, come. 
+
+
+Enter ARIEL. 
+
+
+Would I might 
+
+
+Ari. All hail, great master! grave sir, 
+hail! I come . 
+To answer thy best pleasure; be 't to fly, 190 
+To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride 
+On the curl’d clouds, to thy strong bidding task 
+Awiel and all his quality. 
+Pros, Hast thou, spirit, 
+
+
+Perform’d to point the tempest that I bade thee? 
+Ari. To every article. 
+
+I boarded the king’s ship; now on the beak, 
+
+Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin, 
+
+I flamed amazement: sometimes I ‘Id divide, 
+
+And burn in many places; on the topmast, 
+
+The yards and bowsprit, would I flame dis- 
+tinctly, 
+
+Then meet and join. Jove’s lightnings, the 
+precursors 201 
+
+O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary 
+
+And sight-outrunning were not; the fire and 
+cracks 
+
+Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune 
+
+Seem to besiege and make his bold waves 
+
+
+tremble, 
+Yea, his dread trident shake. 
+Pros. My brave spirit! 
+
+
+Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil 
+Would not infect his reason? 
+
+Ari. Not a soul 
+But felt a fever of the mad and play'd 
+Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners 
+Plunged in the foaming brine and quit the 
+
+
+vessel, 211 
+Then all afire with me: the king’s son, Ferdi- 
+nand, 
+With hair up-staring—then like reeds, not 
+hair,— 
+
+
+Was the first man that leap’d; cried, ‘ Hell is 
+
+
+empty, 
+And all the devils are here.’ 
+Pros. Why, that’s my spirit! 
+But was not this nigh shore? 
+
+
+Ari. Close by, my master. 
+Pros. But are they, Ariel, safe? 
+Ari. - Not a hair perish’d; 
+
+
+On their sustaining garments not a blemish, 
+But fresher than before: and, as thou badest me, 
+In troops I have dispersed them ‘bout the isle. 
+The king’s son have I landed by himself; 221 
+Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs 
+In an odd angle of the isle and sitting, 
+
+His arms in this sad knot. 
+
+Pros. Of the king’s ship 
+The mariners say how thou hast disposed 
+And all the rest o’ the fleet. 
+
+Ari. Safely in harbour 
+Is the king’s ship; in the deep nook, where 
+
+once 
+Thou call’dst me up at midnight to fetch dew 
+From the still-vex’d Bermoothes,there she 's hid: 
+The mariners all under hatches stow'd; 230 
+Who, with a charm join’d to their suffer'd 
+labour, 
+I have left asleep: and for the rest o’ the fleet 
+Which I dispersed, they all have met again 
+And are upon the Mediterranean flote, 
+Bound sadly home for Naples, 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+Act I, Se. I] 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+THE TEMPEST 5 
+
+
+Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck'd 
+And his great person perish. 
+
+Pros. Ariel, thy charge 
+Exactly is perform'’d: but there ’s more work. 
+What is the time o’ the day? 
+
+
+Ari. Past the mid season. 
+Pros. At least two glasses. The time 
+*twixt six and now 240 
+
+
+Must by us both be spent most preciously. 
+Ari. Is there more toil? Since thou dost 
+give me pains, 
+Let me remember thee what thou hast promised 
+Which is not yet perform’d me. 
+
+
+Pros. How now? moody? 
+What is ’t thon canst demand? 
+it. _ My liberty. 
+Pros. Before the time be out? no more! 
+Ari. I prithee, 
+
+
+Remember I have done thee worthy service; 
+Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, 
+
+
+served 
+Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst 
+promise 
+To bate me a full year. 
+Pros. Dost thou forget 250 
+
+
+From what a torment I did free thee? 
+Ari. No. 
+Pros. Thou dost, and think’st it much to 
+tread the ooze 
+Of the salt deep, 
+To run upon the sharp wind of the north, 
+To do me business in the veins o’ the earth 
+When it is baked with frost. 
+Ari. I do not, sir. 
+Pros. Thou liest, malignant thing! 
+thou forgot 
+The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and 
+
+
+Hast 
+
+
+envy 
+Was grown tito a hoop? hast thou forgot her? 
+Ari. No, sir. 
+Pros. Thou hast. Where was she 
+
+
+born? speak; tell me. 260 
+
+Ari. Sir, in Argier, 
+
+Pros. O, was she so? I must 
+Once in a menth recount what thou hast been, 
+Which thou forget’st. This damn’d witch 
+
+Sycorax, 
+For mischiefs manifold and sorceries terrible 
+To enter human hearing, from Argier, 
+Thou know’st, was banish’d: for one thing 
+she did 
+They would not take her life. Is not this true? 
+
+
+Ari. Ay, sir. 
+Pros. This blue-eyed hag was _ hither 
+brought with child 
+And there was left by the sailors. Thou, 
+
+
+my slave, 270 
+As thou report’st thyself, wast then her servant; 
+And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate _ 
+
+
+To act her earthly and abhorr’d commands, 
+Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee, 
+By help of her more potent ministers 
+
+And in her most unmitigable rage, 
+
+Into a cloven pine; within which rift 
+Imprison’d thou didst painfully remain 
+
+A dozen years; within which space she died 
+And left thee there; where thou didst veni 
+
+
+thy groans 280 
+As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this 
+island— 
+
+
+Save for the son that she did litter here, 
+A freckled whelp hag-born—not honour'd 
+with 
+A human shape. 
+Ari. 
+
+
+Pros. 
+
+
+Yes, Caliban her son. 
+Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban 
+
+
+Whom now I keep in service. Thou best 
+know’st 
+What torment I did find thee in; thy groans 
+
+
+Did make wolves howl and penetrate the 
+breasts 
+
+Of ever angry bears: it was a torment 
+
+To lay upon the damn’d, which Sycorax 296 
+
+Could not again undo: it was mine art, 
+
+When I arrived and heard thee, that made gape 
+
+The pine and let thee out. 
+
+
+Art. I thank thee, master. 
+Pros. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend 
+an oak 
+
+
+And peg thee in his knotty entrails till 
+Thou hast howl’d away twelve winters. 
+
+Ari. Pardon, master; 
+I will be correspondent to command 
+And do my spiriting gently. 
+
+Pros. Do so, and after two days 
+I will discharge thee. 
+
+Ari That’s my noble master! 
+What ‘shall I do? say what; what shall I do? 
+
+Pros. Go make thyself like a nymph o° 
+
+the sea: be subject 30} 
+To no sight but thine and mine, invisible 
+To every eyeball else. Go take this shape 
+And hither come in ‘t: go, hence with dili- 
+gence! [Exit Ariei. 
+
+Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well, 
+Awake! 
+
+Mir. The strangeness of your story put 
+Heaviness in me. 
+
+Pros. Shake it off. Come on; 
+We'll visit Caliban my slave, who never 
+Yields us kind answer. 
+
+
+Mir. ‘Tis a villain, sir, 
+I do not love to look on. 
+Pros. But, as ‘tis, 31€ 
+
+
+We cannot miss him: he does make our fire, 
+Fetch in our wood and serves in offices 
+That profit us. What, ho! slave! Caliban! 
+Thou earth, thou! speak. 
+
+
+—. 
+
+
+Cal. [Within] There's wood enough within, 
+ros. Come forth, I ‘say! there's other 
+business for thee: 
+Come, thou tortoise! when? 
+Re-enter Anew like a water-nymph. 
+Fine apparition! My quaint Aviel, 
+Hark ‘in thine ear. 
+Ari. My lord, it shall be done, [ Exit. 
+Pros. Thou poisonous slave, got by the 
+devil himself 
+‘Upon thy wicked dam, come forth! 320 
+Enter CauiBan. 
+Cal. As wicked dew as e’er my mother 
+brush'd 
+With raven’s feather from ‘unwholesome fen 
+Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye 
+And blister you all o'er! 
+Pros. For this, be sure, 
+shalt have cramps, 
+Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; 
+urchins 
+Shall, for that vast of night that they may work, 
+All exercise on thee; thou shalt pe pinch'd 
+As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more 
+
+
+to-night thou 
+
+
+stinging 
+Than bees that made ‘em, 
+Cal, I must eat my dinner. 330 
+
+
+This island’s mine, by Sycorax my mother, 
+lich thou takest from me. When thou 
+
+camest ‘first, 
+
+Thou strokedst me and madest much of me, 
+wouldst give me 
+
+Water with berries in ‘t, and teach me how 
+
+To name the bigger light, and how the less, 
+
+That burn by day and night: and then I loved 
+thee 
+
+And show'd thee all the qualities o’ the isle, 
+
+The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place 
+
+
+and fertile: 
+Carsed be I that did so! All the charms 
+Of Sycorax, ‘»>ds, ‘beetles, bats, light on you! 
+
+
+For I am all the subjects that you have, 34] 
+"Which first was'mine own king: and here you 
+
+
+_ sty me 
+In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me 
+
+‘he rest o’ the island. 
+
+‘Pros. Thou. most lying slave, 
+Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have 
+
+used «thee, 
+
+Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodged 
+thee 
+
+In mine own.-cell, till thou didst seek to violate 
+
+The honour of my child, 
+
+Cal. © ho, O ho! would ‘ts had been done! 
+Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else 
+This isle with Calibans. 
+
+Pros, . .Abhorred slave, 
+Which any print of goodness wilt not take, 
+
+
+6 THE TEMPEST 
+
+
+“ae Bo De 
+va. ett 
+Pia oe tae at 
+
+Le : 
+
+
+ey REE 
+Being capable of all ill! | pitied thee, 
+ook pains to make thee speak, taught thee 
+each hour 
+One thing or other: when thou didst not, savage, 
+i ws own meaning, but wouldst gabble 
+1Ke 
+A thing most brutish, | endow’d thy purposes 
+With words that made them known. | But 
+thy vile race, 
+Though ‘thou didst learn, had that in ‘t which 
+
+
+good natures 
+
+
+Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou — 
+36 
+
+
+eservedly confined into this rock 
+Who hadst deserved more than a prison, 
+Cal. You taught me language; and my 
+
+
+profit on 't 
+
+Is, I know how 'to curse. The red plague rid 
+you 
+
+For learning me your language! 
+108, Hag-seed, hence! 
+
+
+Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou ‘rt best, 
+To answer other business. Shrug’st thou,malice ? 
+If thou neglect’st or dost unwillingly 
+
+What I command, I'll rack thee with old 
+
+
+cramps, ; 
+Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar 
+That beasts shall tremble at thy din. 
+
+al, No, \pray_ thee. 
+[Aside] I must obey: his art is of such power, 
+It would control my dam's god, Setebos, 
+And make a vassal of him. 
+
+Pros. So, slave; hence! [Exit Caliban, 
+
+
+Re-enter Arter, invisible, playing and sing- 
+ing; FERDINAND following, 
+ARIEL'S song. 
+Come unto ‘these yellow sands, 
+And then take hands: 
+Courtsied when you have and kiss'd 
+The wild waves whist, 
+Foot it featly here and there; 380 
+nd, sweet sprites, the burthen bear, 
+Burthen [dispersedly]. Hark, hark! 
+
+
+Bow-wow, 
+The watch-dogs bark: 
+
+
+Bow-wow. 
+Ari. Hark, hark! J hear 
+The strain of strutting chanticleer 
+
+
+Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow. 
+
+
+Fer. Where should this music be? { the 
+
+
+air or the earth? 
+
+It sounds no more: and, sure it waits upon 
+Some god o’ the island. Sitting on a bank, 
+Weeping again the king my father's wreck, 
+
+his music crept by me upon the waters, 
+Allaying both their fury and my passion 
+
+‘ith its sweet air: thence I have follow'd it, 
+Or it hath drawn me rather. But ‘tis gone, 
+No, it begins again, 
+
+
+es, ON 
+[Ac1 1, Sc 
+
+
+Ne. 
+
+
+THE TEMPEST 3 7 
+
+
+ARIEL sings. 
+Full fathom five thy father lies; 
+
+
+i ne _ Of his bones are coral made; 
+
+eae: Those are pearls that were his eyes: 
+te Nothing of him that doth fade 
+
+= But doth suffer a sea-change 
+
+Into something rich and strange. 
+
+Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: 
+
+Burthen. Ding-dong.. 
+
+
+400. 
+
+
+ie 
+5 
+
+
+Oi: Hark! now iI hear them,—Ding- 
+dong, bell. 
+Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd. 
+father. 
+
+
+This is no mortal business, nor no sound 
+
+- That the earth owes. I hear it now above 
+me. 
+
+_ Pros. The fringed curtains of thine eye 
+advance 
+‘And ‘say what thou ‘seest -yond. 
+Mr, What is ‘t? a spirit? 
+Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir, 
+* It carries a brave form. But ‘tis a spirit. 
+
+Pros. No, wench; it eats and sleeps and 
+
+hath such senses 
+
+As we-have, such. This gallant which thou seest 
+Was in the wreck; and, but he ’s something 
+_ stain'd 
+With grief that ‘s beauty’s canker, 
+--— mightst call him 
+A goodly person: he hath lost ‘his fellows 
+And strays about ‘to ‘find ‘em. 
+
+Mir. I might call him 
+A thing divine, for nothing natural 
+TL -ever ‘saw «so noble. 
+el-ros: [Aside] It goes on, I see, 
+As omy soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! 
+I'll free thee 
+~ Within two days for this. 
+Most sure, the goddess 
+On whom these airs attend! = Vouchsafe .my 
+oprayer 
+
+May know if you remain upon this island; 
+And that you will some good instruction give 
+How I-may bear me here: my prime request, 
+~ Which I do last pronounce, is, Ovyou wonder! 
+
+
+thou 
+
+
+{ 
+
+
+My language! heavens! 
+am ithe best of them that speak ‘this speech, 
+ere I but where ‘tis spoken. 
+
+Pu Pros. How? :the best? 430 
+~ What wert thou, if the King of Naples ‘heard 
+thee? 3 
+
+ee, Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that 
+
+
+‘He does 
+
+
+Beat me; 
+
+
+| That e’er I sigh’d for: 
+
+
+|.Make the prize light. 
+
+
+420 | 
+
+
+| Wherein the acorn cradled. 
+
+
+And that he does I weep: myself am Naples, 
+
+
+Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld 
+|| The king my father wreck’d. 
+
+
+Mir. Alack, for mercy! 
+Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; ‘the 
+Duke of Milan 
+And his brave ‘son being twain. 
+Pras. [Aside] The Duke of Milan 
+
+
+And his more braver daughter could control 
+
+
+thee, 
+
+
+If now ‘twere fit to do ’t. At the first sight 440 
+
+
+They have changed eyes. ‘Delicate Ariel, 
+I ‘Il set thee free for this. [To Fer.] A 
+word, good ‘sir; 
+I fear you have done yourself some wrong: 
+a ‘word, 
+mee Why speaks my father so ungently? 
+his 
+Is the third man that e’er I saw, the first 
+pity move my father 
+To be inclinea my way! 
+Fer. O, if a virgin, 
+And ‘your ‘affection not gone ‘forth, I ‘Il make 
+
+
+you 
+The queen of Naples. 
+Pros, Soft, sir! one word more. 
+
+
+[Aside] They are both in either’s powers; 
+but this swift business 450 
+{ must uneasy make, lest too light winning 
+[To Fer.] One word 
+more; J charge ‘thee 
+That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp 
+The name thou owest not; and hast put thyself 
+Upon this island as a spy, to win it 
+From «me, the lord on ‘t. 
+Fer. No,.as I ama man, 
+Mir. There's nothing ill:can dwell in such 
+a temple: 
+If the ill spirit have so 'faira house, 
+Goed ‘things -will strive ‘to dwell with ‘t. 
+
+Pros. Follow me. 
+Speak:not you for him; he’s a traitor. Come; 
+I ‘Il:manacle thy neck and feet together: 461 
+Sea-water shalt thou drink; ‘thy food shall be 
+The fresh-brook muscles, wither’d roots and 
+
+husks 
+Follow. 
+Fer. No; 
+I will resist such entertainment till 
+Mine enemy has more power. 
+[Draws, and is charmed from moving. 
+
+Mir. O dear father, 
+Make not too rash a trial of him, for 
+He’s gentle and not fearful. 
+
+‘Pros. What? I say, 
+My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor; 
+Who makest a show but darest not strike, thy 
+
+conscience 470 
+Is.so_possess d with guilt: come from thy ward, 
+
+
+le ; THE TEMPEST 
+
+
+For I can here disarm thee with this stick 
+And make thy weapon drop. 
+
+
+Mir. Beseech you, father. 
+
+Pros. Hence! hang not on my garments. 
+
+Mir. Sir, have pity; 
+I ‘Il be his surety. 
+
+Pros. Sileace! one word more 
+
+
+Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. 
+What! 
+
+An advocate for an impostor! hush! 
+
+‘Thou think’st there is no more such shapes as he, 
+
+Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish 
+wench! 
+
+‘To the most of men this is a Caliban 
+
+And they to him are angels. 
+Mir. My affections 
+Are then most humble; I have no ambition 
+To see a goodlier man. 
+Pros. Come on; obey: 
+‘Thy nerves are in their infancy again 
+And have no vigour in them. 
+Fer, So they are; 
+My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. 
+My father’s loss, the weakness which I feel, 
+The wreck of all my friends, nor this man’s 
+threats, 
+
+To whom I am subdued, are but light to me, 
+
+Might I but through my prison once a 
+day 490 
+
+Behold this maid: all corners else o' the earth 
+
+Let liberty make use of; space enough 
+
+Have I in such a prison, 
+
+Pros. [Aside] It works. [To Fer.] Come 
+
+on, 
+
+Thou hast done well, fine Ariel! [To Fer.] 
+Follow me. 
+
+[To Ari.] Hark what thou else shalt do me. 
+
+Mir. Be of comfort; 
+My father 's of a better nature, sir, 
+
+Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted 
+Which now came from him. 
+
+Pros. Thou shalt be as free 
+As mountain winds: but then exactly do 
+All points of my command, 
+
+
+480 
+
+
+Ari. To the syllable. 500 
+Pros, Come, follow. Speak not for him. 
+[Exeunt. 
+Ae ag 
+Scene I, Another part of the island. 
+
+
+Enter Aonso, Sepastian, ANTONIO, Gon- 
+ZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others. 
+
+
+Gon. Beseech you, sir, be merry; you 
+have cause, 
+So have we all, of joy; for our escape 
+Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe 
+Is common; every day some sailor's wife, 
+
+
+[Act Il, Se. 
+
+
+The masters of some merchant and the merchant 
+Have ue our theme of woe; but for the mir- 
+acle, 
+I mean our preservation, few in millions 
+Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh 
+Our sorrow with our comfort, 
+Alon. Prithee, peace. 
+Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge. 
+Ant, The visitor will not give him o’er so. 11 
+Seb. Look, he ’s winding up the watch of 
+his wit; by and by it will strike. 
+Gon. Sir,— 
+Seb. One: tell. 
+Gon. When every grief is entertain’d that ’s 
+offer'd, 
+Comes to the entertainer— 
+Seb. A dollar. 
+Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed: you 
+have spoken truer than you purposed. 20 
+Seb. You have taken it wiselier than 1 
+meant you should. 
+Gon. Therefore, my lord,— 
+Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his 
+tongue! 
+Alon. 1 prithee, spare. 
+
+
+Gon, Well, I have done: but yet,— 
+
+Seb. He will be talking. 
+
+Ant. Which, of he or Adtian, for a good 
+wager, first begins to crow? 
+
+
+Seb. The old cock, 30 
+
+Ant. The cockerel. 
+
+Seb. Done. The wager? 
+
+Ant. A laughter. 
+
+Seb. A match! 
+
+Adr, Though this island seem to be desert,— 
+
+Seb. Ha, ha, ha! So, you're paid. 
+
+Adr, Uninhabitable and almost inacces- 
+sible,— ; 
+
+Seb. Yet,— 
+
+Adr. Yet— 
+
+
+Ant. He could not miss 't. 
+
+Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender 
+and delicate temperance. 
+
+Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench. 
+
+Seb. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learn- 
+edly delivered. 
+
+Adr, The air breathes upon us here most 
+
+sweetly. 
+
+
+Seb. As if it had lungs and rotten ones. 
+
+Ant, Or as ‘twere perfumed by a fen. 
+
+Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to 
+life. 
+
+Ant. True; save means to live. 50 
+
+
+Seb. Of that there 's none, or little. 
+
+Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks) 
+how green! 
+
+Ant. The ground indeed is tawny, 
+
+Seb. With an eye of green in 't. 
+
+Ant. He misses not much, 
+
+
+A. eh 
+
+
+) Tunis. 
+
+
+ey Gon. 
+
+
+Acr Il, Se. {] 
+
+
+Seb, 
+totally. 
+
+Gon. But the rarity of it is,—which is in- 
+deed almost beyond credit,— 
+
+Seb. As many vouched rarities are. 60 
+
+Gon. That our garments, being, as they 
+were, drenched in the sea, hold notwithstand- 
+ing their freshness and glosses, being rather 
+new-dyed than stained with salt water. 
+
+Ant. If but one of his pockets could 
+speak, would it not say he lies? 
+
+Seb. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his 
+
+
+No; he doth but mistake the truth 
+
+
+report, 
+
+
+Gon. Methinks our garments are now as 
+fresh as When we put them on first in Afric, 
+at the marriage of the king’s fair daughter 
+Claribel to the King of Tunis. 71 
+
+Seb. “Twas a sweet marriage, and we 
+prosper well in our return. 
+
+Adr. ‘Tunis was never graced before with 
+
+
+such a paragon to their queen. 
+
+
+Gon. Not since widow Dido's time. 
+
+Ant. Widow! a pox o’ that! How came 
+that widow in? widow Dido! 
+
+Seb. What if he had said * widower 
+/Eneas’ too? Good Lord, how you take it! 80 
+
+Adr. * Widow Dido” said you? you make 
+me study of that: she was of Carthage, not of 
+
+
+Gon, This Tunis, sir, was Carthage. 
+Adr, Carthage? 
+Gon. I assure you, Carthage. 
+
+
+Seb. His word is more than the miraculous 
+
+
+harp; he hath raised the wall and houses too. 
+
+
+Ant. What impossible matter will he 
+make easy next? 
+~ Seb. I think he will carry this island home 
+
+
+in his pocket and give it his son for an 
+
+
+apple. 91 
+Ant. And, sowing the kernels of it in the 
+
+
+sea, bring forth more islands. 
+
+
+Gon. Ay. 
+Ant. Why, in good time. 
+Gon. Sir, we were talking that our gar- 
+
+
+ments seem now as fresh as when we were at 
+_ Tunis at the marriage of your daughter, who 
+
+
+1s now queen. 
+Ant. And the rarest that e’er came there. 
+Seb. Bate, | beseech ycu, widow Dido. 100 
+Ant. O, widow Dido! ay, widow Dido. 
+Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as 
+the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort. 
+Ant. That sort was well fished for. 
+Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's 
+‘tnarriage ? 
+Alon. You cram these words into mine 
+ears against 
+
+
+Ber The stomach of my sense. Would I had never 
+Married my daughter there! for, coming thence, 
+
+
+THE TEMPEST 9 
+
+
+EA, | ina 
+My son is lost and, in my rate, she too, 
+Who is so far from Italy removed 110 
+I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir | 
+Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish 
+Hath made his meal on thee? 
+Fran. Sir, he may live: 
+I saw him beat the surges under him, 
+And ride upon their backs; he trod the water, 
+Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted 
+The surge most swoln that met him; his bold 
+head 
+"Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar’d 
+Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke 
+To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis 
+bow'd, 
+As stooping to relieve him: I not doubt 121 
+He came alive to land. 
+Alon. No, no, he’s gone. 
+Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this 
+great loss, 
+That would not bless our Europe with your 
+daughter, 
+But rather lose her to an African; 
+Where she at least is banish’'d from your eye, 
+Who hath cause to wet the grief on 't. 
+Alon. Prithee, peace. 
+Seb. You were kneel’d to and importuned 
+otherwise 
+By all of us, and the fair soul herself 
+Weigh’d between loathness and obedience, at 
+Which end o’ the beam should bow. We 
+have lost your son, 131 
+I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have 
+Moe widows in them of this business’ making 
+Than we bring men to comfort them: 
+The fault 's your own. 
+Alon. So is the dear’st o’ the loss. 
+My lord Sebastian, 
+The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness 
+And time to speak it in: you rub the sore, 
+When you should bring the plaster. 
+
+
+Seb. Very well. 
+Ant. And most chirurgeonly. 140 
+Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir, 
+
+
+When you are cloudy. 
+
+
+Seb. Foul weather > 
+
+Ant. Very foul. 
+
+Gon. Had I plantation of this isle, my 
+lord,— 
+
+Ant. He ‘Id sow 't with nettle-seed. 
+
+Seb. Or docks, or mallows. 
+
+
+Gon. And were the king on ‘t, what would 
+I do? 
+
+
+Seb. ‘Scape being drunk for want of wine. 
+Gon. I’ the commonwealth I would by 
+contraries 
+
+
+Execute all things; for no kind of traffic 
+Would I admit; no name of magistrate; 149 
+Letters should not be known; riches, poverty 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+And use of service, none; contract, succession, 
+Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none; 
+No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil; 
+No occupation; all men idle, all; 
+And women too, but innocent and pure; 
+No sovereignty ;— 
+seb. Yet he would be king on ‘t. 
+Ant, The latter end of his commonwealth 
+forgets the beginning. 
+Gon. All things in common nature should 
+produce 159 
+‘Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony, 
+Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, 
+Would [ not have; but nature should bring 
+forth, 
+Of it own kind, all foison, all abundance, 
+To feed my innocent people. 
+
+
+Seb. No marrying ‘mong his subjects? 
+Ant. None, man; all idle: whores and 
+knaves. 
+Gon. 1 would with such perfection gov- 
+ern, sir, 
+To excel the golden age. 
+Seb. God save his majesty! 
+Ant. Long live Gonzalo! 
+» Gon, And,—do you mark me, sir? 
+Alon. Prithee, no more: thou dost talk 
+nothing to me. 71 
+Gon. 1 do well believe your highness; and 
+
+
+did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, 
+who are of such sensible and nimble lungs 
+that they always use to laugh at nothing. 
+
+Ant. "Twas you we laughed at. 
+
+Gon. Who in this kind of merry fooling 
+am nothing to you: so you may continue and 
+laugh at nothing still. 
+
+
+Ant, What a blow was there given! 180 
+Seb. An it had not fallen flat-long. 
+Gon. You are gentlemen of brave mettle; 
+
+
+you would lift the moon out of her sphere, if 
+she would continue in it five weeks without 
+changing. 
+
+
+Enter Arter, invisible, playing solemn music. 
+
+
+Seb. We would so, and then go a bat- 
+fowling. 
+
+Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry. 
+
+Gon. No, I warrant you; I will not ad- 
+
+
+venture my discretion so weakly. Will you 
+laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy? 
+Ant. Go sleep, and hear us, 
+[All sleep except Alon., Seb., and Ant, 
+Alon, What, all so soon asleep! I wish 
+mine eyes 
+Would with themselves, shut up my thoughts: 
+{ find 
+They are inclined to do so, 
+Seb. Please you, sir, 
+Do not omit the heavy offer of it: 
+
+
+190 
+
+
+THE TEMPEST 
+
+
+# Pi, des 
+fAcr Il, Se. f 
+
+
+It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth, 
+It is a comforter. 
+Ant. We two, my lord, 
+Will guard your person while you take your 
+rest, 
+And watch your safety, 
+Alon, Thank you. Wondrous heavy. 
+[Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel. 
+Sch, What a strange drowsiness possesses 
+them! 199 
+Ant. It is the quality o' the climate. 
+Seb. Why 
+Doth it not then our eyelids sink? 1 find not 
+Myself disposed to sleep. 
+Ant. Nor I; my spirits are nimble. 
+They fell together all, as by consent; 
+
+
+They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What 
+might, \ 
+
+Worthy Sebastian? O, what might?—No 
+more :— 
+
+
+| And yet methinks I see it in thy face, 
+
+
+What thou shouldst be: 
+thee, and 
+
+My strong imagination sees a crown 
+
+Dropping upon thy head. 
+
+
+the occasion speaks 
+
+
+Seb. What, art thou waking? 
+Ant. Do you not hear me speak? 
+Seb. I do; and surely 
+
+
+It is a sleepy language and thou speak’ st 211 
+Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say? 
+This is a strange repose, to be asleep 
+
+With eyes wide open; standing, pean 
+
+
+moving, 
+And yet so fast asleep. 
+Ant. Noble Sebastian, 
+
+
+Thou let’st thy fortune sleep—die, rather; 
+wink’st 
+Whiles thou art waking, 
+Seb, ‘Thou dost snore distinetly; 
+‘There's meaning in thy snores. 
+Ant. | am more serious than my custom: 
+you 
+Must be so too, if heed me; which to do 220 
+
+
+Trebles thee o'er. 
+
+
+Seb. Well, I am standing water, 
+
+Ant. W'll teach you how to flow. 
+
+Seb. Do so: to ebb 
+Hereditary sloth instructs me. 
+
+Ant, 
+
+
+If you but knew how you the purpose cherish 
+Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it, 
+You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed, 230 
+Moat often do so near the bottom run 
+By their own fear or sloth. 
+
+Seb. Prithee, say on; 
+The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim 
+A matter from thee, and a birth indeed — 
+Which throes thee much to yield, 
+
+
+Ant, Thus, sir: 
+
+
+™ 
+
+
+THE TEMPEST ti 
+
+
+ee this lord of weak remembrance, this, 
+
+~ Who shall be of as little memory 
+
+When he is earth’d, hath here almost per- 
+
+suaded,— 
+
+eek he’s a spirit of persuasion, only 
+rofesses to persuade,—the king his son's 
+alive, 
+
+"Tis as impossible that he’s undrown'd 
+
+cei nt that sleeps here swims. 
+
+
+That he’s undrown’'d, 
+ec rit, O, out of that ‘no hope’ 
+ae What great hope have you! no hope that way 
+is 240 
+Another way so high a hope’ that even 
+_ Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond, 
+
+i But doubt aes there, Will you grant 
+
+
+m4 
+gn 
+
+
+I have no hope 
+
+
+with m 
+‘That Fardiniena is drown'd? 
+Seb. He's gone. 
+Ant. | Then, tell me, 
+Whe s the next heir of Naples? 
+
+
+eb, Claribel. 
+tig Anh She that is queen of Tunis; she that 
+: dwells 
+Ten leagues beyond man’s life; she that from 
+Naples 
+it Can have no note, unless the sun were post— 
+| The man i’ the moon’s too slow—till new- 
+F _ born chins 
+Be rough and razorable; she that—from 
+~ whom? 
+We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast 
+again, 
+in And by that destiny to perform an act 
+eee what's past is prologue, what to come 
+In cee and my discharge, 
+What stuf js this! how say you? 
+Tis true, my brother's daughter's queen of 
+unis; 
+ee is she heir of Naples: 
+There is some space. 
+me Ant, A space whose every cubit 
+Seems to cry out, “How shall that Claribel 
+Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis, 
+And let Sebastian wake.’ Say, this were death 
+That now hath seized them; why, they were 
+3 no. worse 2061 
+an now they are. There be that can rule 
+Naples 
+
+
+“wwixt which regions 
+
+
+As amply and unnecessarily 
+
+As this Gonzalo; I myself could make 
+chough of as deep chat, O, that you bore 
+
+~The mind that | do! what a sleep were this 
+
+or your advancement! Do you understand 
+
+
+me? : 
+— Seb. Methinks I do. 
+Ant. And how does your content 
+
+
+As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate | 
+
+
+Tender your own good fortune? 
+Seb. 1 remember 270 
+You did supplant your brother Prospero, 
+Ant, True: 
+And look how well my garments sit upon me; 
+Much feater than before: my brother's serv- 
+ants 
+Were then my fellows; now they are my men, 
+Seb, But, for your conscience ? 
+Ant. Ay, sir; where lies that? if ‘twere a 
+kibe, 
+"Twould put me to my slipper: but I feel not 
+This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences, 
+That stand ‘twixt me and Milan, candied be 
+they 
+And melt ere they molest! 
+brother, 
+No better than the earth he lies upon, 
+If he were that which now he’s like, that's 
+dead; 
+Wer fF with this obedient steel, three inches 
+of it, 
+Can lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus, 
+‘To the perpetual wink for aye might put 
+This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who 
+Should not upbraid our course. For all the 
+rest, 
+They ‘Il take suggestion as a cat laps milk; 
+They ‘Il tell the clock to any business that 289 
+We say befits the hour. 
+Seb. Thy case, dear friend, 
+Shall be my precedent; as thou got’st Milan, 
+I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one 
+
+
+Here lies your 
+
+
+stroke 
+Shall free thee from the tribute which thou 
+payest; 
+And | the king shall love thee. 
+Ant. Draw together; 
+
+
+And when I rear my hand, do you y: like, 
+To fall it on Gonzalo. 
+
+
+Seb, ©, but one word. | They tlh apart, 
+Re-enter Arwen, invisible. 
+Ari. My master through his art foresees 
+
+
+the danger 
+That you, his friend, are in; and sends me 
+forth— 
+For else his project dies—to keep them living, 
+[Sings in Conzalo's ear, 
+While you here do snoring lic, 300 
+Open-eyed conspiracy 
+His time doth take. 
+If of life you keep a care, 
+Shake off slumber, and beware: 
+Awake, awake! 
+Ant. Then let us both be sudden, 
+Gon. 
+
+
+Now, good angels 
+Preserve the king. [They wake., 
+
+
+12 
+
+
+THE; TEMPEST 
+
+
+(Acnillisealit 
+
+
+Alon. Why, how now? ho, awake! Why 
+
+
+are you drawn? 
+Wherefore this ghastly looking? 
+
+
+Gon. What's the matter > 
+Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your 
+repose, 310 
+Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bel- 
+lowing 
+
+
+Like bulls, or rather lions: did ’t not wake you? 
+{t struck mine ear most terribly. 
+Alon. I heard nothing. 
+Ant. O,’twasa din to fright a monster’s ear, 
+To make an earthquake! sure, it was the 
+
+
+roar 
+Of a whole herd of lions. 
+Alon. Heard you this, Gonzalo? 
+Gon. Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a 
+humming, 
+And that a strange one too, which did awake 
+me: 
+I shaked you, sir, and cried: as mine eyes 
+open'd, 319 
+
+
+{ saw their weapons drawn: there was a noise, 
+That’s verily. "Tis best we stand upon our 
+guard, 
+Or that we quit this place: let’s draw our 
+weapons. 
+Alon, Lead off this ground; and let ’s make 
+further search 
+For my poor son. 
+Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts! 
+For he is, sure, i’ the island. 
+Alon. Lead away. 
+Ari. Prospero my lord shall know what | 
+have done: 
+So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene il. Another part of the island. 
+
+
+Enter CauiBan with a burden of wood. A 
+noise of thunder heard. 
+
+
+Cal. A\ll the infections that the sun sucks up 
+
+From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall and 
+make him 
+
+By inch-meal’a disease! His spirits hear me 
+
+And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor 
+pinch, 
+
+Fright me with urchin-shows, pitch me 1’ the 
+mire, 
+
+Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark 
+
+Out of my way, unless he bid ’em; but 
+
+For every trifle are they set upon me; 
+
+Sometime like apes that mow and chatter at me. 
+
+And after bite me, then like hedgehogs which 
+
+Lie tumbling in my barefoot way and mount 
+
+Their pricks at my footfall; sometime am I 
+
+All wound with adders who with cloven longues 
+
+Do hiss me into madness. 
+
+
+Enter TRINCULO. 
+
+
+Lo, now, lo! 
+Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me 
+For bringing wood in slowly. I'll fall flat; 
+Perchance he will not mind me. 
+
+Trin. Here’s neither bush nor shrub, to 
+bear off any weather at all, and another 
+storm brewing; I hear it sing i’ the wind: 
+yond same black cloud, yond huge one, looks 
+like a foul bombard that would shed his liq- 
+uor. If it should thunder as it did before, 
+I know not where to hide my head: yond 
+same cloud cannot choose but fall by pail- 
+fuls. What have we here? a man or a 
+fish? dead or alive? A fish: he smells like 
+a fish; a very ancient and fish-like smell; a 
+kind of not of the newest Poor-John. A 
+strange fish! Were I in England now, as once 
+I was, and had but this fish painted, not a 
+holiday fool there but would give a piece of 
+silver: there would this monster make a man; 
+any strange beast there makes a man: when 
+they will not give a doit to relieve a lame 
+beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead 
+Indian. Legged like a man! and his fins like 
+arms! Warm o’ my troth! I do now let 
+loose my opinions; hold it no longer: this is 
+ao fish, but an islander, that hath lately suf- 
+fered by a thunderbolt. [Thunder.] Alas, 
+the storm is come again! my best way is to 
+creep under his gaberdine; there is no other 
+shelter hereabout: misery acquaints a man 
+with strange bed-fellows. I will inere shroud 
+till the dregs of the storm be past. 
+
+
+Enter STEPHANO, singing: a bottle in 
+his hand. 
+
+
+Ste. I shall no more to sea, to sea, 
+Here shall I die ashore— 
+This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man’s 
+funera!: well, here’s my comfort. Drinks. 
+[Sings. 3 
+The master, the swabber, the boatswain and I, 
+The gunner and his mate 
+Loved Mall, Meg and Marian and Margery, 
+But none of us cared for Kate; 51 
+For she had a tongue with a tang, 
+Would cry to a sailor, Go hang! 
+She loved not the savour of tar nor of pitch, 
+Yet a tailor might scratch her where’er she 
+did itch: 
+Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang! 
+This is a scurvy tune too: but here’s my com- 
+
+
+fort. [Drinks. 
+Cal. Do not torment me: Oh! 
+Sie. What's the matter? Have we devils 
+
+
+here? Do you put tricks upon ’s with savages 
+and men of Ind, ha? I have not ‘scaped 
+
+
+Act Il, Sc. I] 
+
+
+drowning to be afeard now of your four legs; 
+for it hath been said, As proper a man as 
+ever went on four legs cannot make him give 
+ground; and it shall be said so again while 
+Stephano breathes at nostrils. : 
+
+Cal. The spirit torments me; Oh! 
+
+Ste. This is some monster of the isle with 
+four legs, who hath got, as I take it, an ague. 
+Where the devil should he learn our lan- 
+guage? I will give him some relief, if it be 
+but for that. If I can recover him and keep 
+him tame and get to Naples with him, he’s a 
+present for any emperor that ever trod on 
+neat’s-leather. 
+
+_ Cal. Do not torment me, prithee; I Il bring 
+my wood home faster. 
+
+Sie. He’s in his fit now and does not talk 
+after the wisest. He shall taste of my bottle: 
+if he have never drunk wine afore, it will go 
+near to remove his fit. If | can recover him 
+and keep him tame, I will not take too much 
+
+
+for him; he shall pay for him that hath him, - 
+
+
+and that soundly. 
+
+Cal. Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou 
+wilt anon, I know it by thy trembling: now 
+Prosper works upon thee. 
+
+Ste. Come on your ways; open your 
+mouth; here is that which will give language 
+
+
+to you, cat: open your mouth; this will shake | 
+
+
+your shaking, I can tell you, and that soundly: 
+you cannot tell who's your friend: open your 
+chaps again, 
+
+Trin. 1 should know that voice: it should 
+
+
+be—but he is drowned; and these are devils: | 
+
+
+© defend me! 
+
+
+Ste. Four legs and two voices: a most deli- | 
+cate monster! His forward voice now is to. 
+speak well of his friend; his backward voice | 
+
+
+If all | 
+
+
+is to utter foul speeches and to detract. 
+the wine in my bottle will recover him, I will 
+help his ague. Come. Amen! I will pour 
+‘some in thy other mouth. 
+
+Trin. Stephano! 
+
+Ste. Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, 
+mercy! This is a devil, and no monster: I will 
+leave him; I have no long spoon. 
+
+Trin. Stephano! If thou beest Stephano, 
+touch me and speak to me; for I am Trinculo 
+—be not afeard—thy good friend Trinculo. 
+
+Ste. If thou beest Trinculo, come forth: I ‘Il 
+
+
+pull thee by the lesser legs: if any be Trin- | 
+
+
+culo’s legs, these are they. Thou art very 
+
+
+Trinculo indeed! How camest thou to be the | 
+
+
+‘siege of this moon-calf> can he vent Trin- 
+culos? 111 
+
+
+Trin. I took him to be killed with a thun- 
+der-stroke. But art thou not drowned, Ste- 
+phano? I hope now thou art not drowned. 
+
+
+I hid me under 
+
+
+Js the storm overblown? 
+
+
+Xe) 
+
+
+oe 
+
+
+THE TEMPEST 13 
+
+
+the dead moon-calf's gaberdine for fear of the 
+storm. And art thou living, Stephano? O 
+Stephano, two Neapolitans 'scaped! 
+
+Ste. Prithee, do not turn me about; my 
+stomach is not constant. 
+
+Cal. [Aside] These be fine things, an if 
+
+they be not sprites. 120 
+That ’s a brave god and bears celestial liquor. 
+I will kneel to him. 
+
+Ste. How didst thou ’scape? How camest 
+thou hither? swear by this bottle how thou 
+camest hither. I escaped upon a butt of sack 
+which the sailors heaved o’erboard, by this 
+bottle! which I made of the bark of a tree 
+with mine own hands since | was cast ashore. 
+
+Cal. I'll swear upon that bottle to be thy 
+true subject; for the liquor is not earthly. 130 
+
+Ste. Here; swear then how thou escapedst. 
+
+Trin. Swum ashore, man, like a duck: | 
+can swim like a duck, I'll be sworn. 
+
+Ste. Here, kiss the book. Though thou 
+canst swim like a duck, thou art made like a 
+goose. 
+
+Trin. O Stephano, hast any more of this? 
+
+Ste. The whole butt, man: my cellar is in 
+a rock by the sea-side where my wine is hid. 
+How now, moon-calf! how does thine ague? 
+
+Cal. Hast thou not dropp’d from heaven? 
+
+Ste. Out o’ the moon, I do assure thee: 
+I was the man i’ the moon when time was. 
+
+Cal. I have seen thee in her and I do 
+
+adore thee: 
+My mistress show'd me thee and thy dog and 
+thy bush. 
+
+Ste. Come, swear to that; kiss the book: 
+1 will furnish it anon with new contents: 
+swear. 
+
+Trin. By this good light, this is a very 
+shallow monster! I afeard of him! A very 
+weak monster! The man i’ the moon! A 
+most poor credulous monster! Well drawn, 
+
+
+| monster, in good sooth! 
+
+
+100) 
+
+
+Cal. I'll show thee every fertile inch o’ th’ 
+island; 
+And I will kiss thy foot: I prithee, be my god. 
+Trin. By this light, a most perfidious and 
+drunken monster! when 's god ’s asleep, he ‘Il 
+rob his bottle. 
+Cal. I'll kiss thy foot; I'll swear myself 
+thy subject. 
+Ste. Come on then; down, and swear. 
+Trin. I shall laugh myself to death at this 
+puppy-headed monster. A most scurvy mon- 
+ster! I could find in my heart to beat him,— 
+Ste. Come, kiss. 16] 
+Trin, But that the poor monster's in 
+drink: an abominable monster! 
+Cal. I'll show thee the best springs; I ‘Il 
+pluck thee berries; 
+
+
+14 
+
+
+THE TEMPEST 
+
+
+| 
+
+
+[Acr ill, Se. 1 
+
+
+I'll fish for thee and get thee wood enough, 
+A plague upon the tyrant that I serve! 
+
+I ‘ll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee, 
+Thou wondrous man. 
+
+Trin. A most ridiculous monster, to make 
+a wonder of a poor drunkard! 170 
+
+Cal. 1 prithee, let me bring thee where 
+
+crabs grow; 
+And I with my long nails will dig thee pig- 
+huts; 
+Show thee a jay’s nest and instruct thee how 
+To snare the nimble marmoset; I ‘Il bring thee 
+To clustering filberts and sometimes I 'I! get thee 
+Young scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go 
+with me ? 
+
+Ste. 1 prithee now, lead the way without 
+any more talking. Trinculo, the king and all 
+our company else being drowned, we will in- 
+herit here: there; bear my ‘bottle: fellow 
+Trinculo, we ‘li fill him by and by again. 18!) 
+
+Cal, [Sings drunkenly] 
+
+Farewell, master; farewell, farewell! 
+
+Trin. A howling monster; a drunken mon- 
+ster! 
+
+Cal. No more dams "ll make for fish; 
+
+Nor fetch in firing 200 
+At requiring; 
+
+Nor scrape trencher, nor ‘wash dish: 
+‘Ban, ‘Ban, Cacaliban 
+
+
+Has a new master: get a new man, 
+
+
+Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! fcee-, 
+
+
+dom, hey-day, freedom! 191 
+
+
+Ste. © brave -monster! Lead the way. 
+[Exeunt. 
+ACT Il. 
+Scene I. . Before -PRosPERO’S cell. 
+
+
+Enter FERDINAND, bearing a log. 
+
+
+Fer. There be some:sports are painful, and 
+
+>their labour 
+
+Delight in them sets off: some kinds of base- 
+ness 
+
+Are nobly undergone and most poor matters 
+
+Point to:rich ends. This ymy mean task 
+
+Would be as heavy to me as odious, but 
+
+The mistress which [serve quickens what’s dead 
+
+And makes my labours pleasures:-O, she is 
+
+Ten times more gentle than her: father’s crab- 
+bed, 
+
+And he’s composed of harshness. I must re- 
+move 
+
+Some thousands of these logs and pile/them up, 
+
+Upon:a sore injunction: my sweet, mistress || 
+
+Weeps when she sees me work, and says, such 
+
+'_-baseness 
+
+
+Had never like executor. J forget: 
+
+
+But these sweet thoughts do even refresh uny 
+labours, 
+tMost busy lest, when I do it. 
+
+
+Enter MiraNnDA; and PRosPERO al a 
+distance, unseen. 
+
+
+Mir, Alas, now, pray you, 
+Work not so hard: I would the lightning had 
+Burnt up those logs that you are enjoind to 
+
+pile! 
+Pray, set it down and rest you: when this burns, 
+‘Twill weep for having wearied you. My father 
+Is hard at study; pray now, rest yourself; 20 
+He ’'s safe for these three hours. 
+
+Fer. O most dear mistress, 
+The sun will set before I shall discharge 
+Whai I must strive to do. 
+
+
+Mir. If you ‘Il sit down, 
+I'll bear your logs the while: pray, give me 
+that; 
+I'll carry it ito the pile. 
+er. No, precious creature; 
+
+
+I had rather crack my sinews, break my back, 
+Than you should such dishonour undergo, 
+While I sit lazy by. 
+
+Mir. It would become me 
+As well as it does you: and I should do it 
+With much more ease; for my goodwill is to it. 
+And yours it is against. 
+
+Pros, Poor worm, ,thou art infected! 
+This visitation shows it. 
+
+Mir. You look wearily. 
+
+Fer. No, noble mistress; ‘tis fresh morning 
+
+with me 
+When you.aresby at*night. I dojbeseech you— 
+Chiefly :that I might set it in my prayers— 
+What is .your name? 
+
+Mir. Miranda.—O my father, 
+I have broke your hest to say so! 
+
+Fer. Admired Miranda! 
+Indeed the top of admiration! worth 
+(What's dearest to the world! -Full many a lady 
+I have eyed with |best regard and many a time. 
+The jharmony of :their tongues hath into bond- 
+
+age 
+Brought my too diligentear: for several virtues 
+Have I liked several women; never any 
+With so full soul, but some defect.in her 
+Did. quarrel with the noblest grace she owed 
+And put it to the foil: but you, O you, 
+So perfect and so peerless, are created 
+Of every creature's best! 
+
+Mir. I_do.not: know 
+One of my sex; no woman’s face remember, 
+Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I 
+
+seen 50 
+More:that I may call men than you, good friend, 
+‘And, my. dear father :, how. features are abroad. 
+
+
+apa ls of. _ 
+Ni fF 
+‘ 
+
+
+Act mM, Sc. TY} 
+
+
+I am skilless of; but, hi my Fae 
+The jewel in my dower, I would not wish 
+Any companion in the world but you, 
+Nor can imagination form a shape, 
+Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle 
+Something too wildly and my father’s precepts 
+I therein do forget. 
+Fer. I am im my condition 
+A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king; 60 
+I would, not poi taad would no iaove endure 
+This wooden slavery than to suffer 
+The flesh-fly blow my mouth. Hear my soul 
+; speak: 
+The very instant that I saw you, did 
+My heart fly to your service: there resides, 
+To make me slave to it; and for your sake 
+Am I this patient log-man. 
+Mir. Do you love me? 
+O heaven, O earth, bear witness to 
+this. sound 
+Aind crown what I profess with kind event 
+If I speak true! if hollowly, invert 
+What best is boded me to mischief! I 
+Beyond all limit of what else i’ the world 
+Do love, prize, honour you. 
+
+
+70 
+
+
+Mir. I am a fool 
+Fo weep at what I am glad of. 
+Pros. Fair encounter 
+
+
+Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain 
+grace 
+
+
+On ioe which breeds between ’em! 
+
+
+Fer. Wherefore weep you? 
+Mir. At mine unworthiness that dare not 
+offer 
+
+
+What I desire to give, and much less take 
+What I shall die to want. But this is trifling; 
+And all the more it seeks to hide itself. 80 
+The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful 
+cunning! 
+And prompt me, plain and holy innocence! 
+i am your wife, if you will marry me, 
+If not, I'll die your maid: to be your fellow 
+You may deny me; but I'll be your servant, 
+preter you will or no. 
+My mistress, dearest; 
+And 7 thus humble ever. 
+Mir. My husband, then? 
+Fer. Ay, with a heart as willing 
+As bondage e’er of freedom: here ’s my hand. 
+ir, And mine, with my heart in ’t: and 
+now farewell 90 
+Till half an hour hence. 
+Fer. A thousand thousand! 
+% [Exeunt Fer. and Mir. severally. 
+Pros. So glad of this as they I cannot be, 
+Who are surprised withal: but my rejoicing 
+At nothing can be more. J'll to my book, 
+or yet ere supper-time must | perforni 
+Much business appertaining. (Exit. 
+
+
+THE. TEMPEST 
+
+
+Scene Pf. hone part of the ‘land 
+Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO. 
+
+
+Ste. Tell not me; when the butt is out, we 
+will drink water; not a drop before: therefore 
+bear up, and. board ‘em. Servant-monster, 
+drink *o me. 
+
+Trin. Servant-monster! the folly of this is- 
+land! They say there ’s but five upon this isle: 
+we are three of them; if th’ other two be 
+brained like us, the state totters. 
+
+Ste. Drink, servant-monster, when I bid 
+thee: thy eyes are almost set in thy head. 10 
+
+Trin. Where should they be set else? he 
+were a brave monster indeed, if they were set 
+im his. tail. 
+
+Ste. My man-monster hath drown’d his 
+tongue in sack: for my part, the sea cannot 
+drown me; I swam, ere I could recover the 
+shore, five and thirty leagues off and on. By 
+this light, thou shalt be my lieutenant, mon- 
+ster, or my standard, 
+
+Trin. Your lieutenant, if you list; he ‘s no 
+standard. 20 
+Ste. We ‘Il not run, Monsieur Monster. 
+
+Trin. Nor go neither; but you ‘Il lie like 
+dogs and yet say nothing neither. 
+
+Ste. Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if 
+thou beest a good moon-calf. 
+
+Cal. How does thy honour? Let me lick 
+
+thy shoe. 
+I ‘ll not serve him; he is not valiant. 
+
+Trin. Thou liest, most ignorant monster: I 
+am in case to justle a constable. Why, thou 
+deboshed fish, thou, was there ever man a 
+coward that hath drunk so much sack as I 
+to-day? Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, be- 
+ing but half a fish and half a monster > 
+
+Cal. Lo, how he mocks me! wilt thou let 
+him, my lord? 
+
+Trin. ‘Lord’ quoth he! That a monster 
+should be such a natural! 
+
+
+Cal. Lo, Jo, again! bite him to death, I 
+prithee. 
+Ste. Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your 
+
+
+head: if you prove a mutineer,—the nexf tree! 
+The poor monster's my subject and he shall 
+not suffer indignity. 
+
+Cat. } thank my noble lord. Wrlt thou be 
+pleased to hearken once again to the suit I 
+made to thee? 
+
+Sie. Marry, will I: kneel and repeat it; I 
+will stand, and so shall Trinculo. 
+
+
+Enter ARIEL, invisible. 
+
+
+Cal. As I told thee before, | am subject to 
+a tyrant, a sorcerer, that by his cunning hath 
+cheated me of the island. 50 
+Ari. Thou liest, 
+
+
+16 
+
+
+Cal. Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou: 
+I would my valiant master vould destroy thee! 
+I do not lie. 
+
+Ste. Trinculo, if you trouble him any more 
+in 's tale, by this hand, I will supplant some 
+of your teeth. 
+
+Trin. Why, I said nothing. 
+
+Ste. Mum, then, and no more. Proceed. 
+
+Cal. I say, by sorcery he got this isle; 60 
+From me he got it. If thy greatness will 
+Revenge it on him,—for I know thou darest, 
+But this thing dare not,— 
+
+Ste. That's most certain. 
+
+Cal. Thou shalt be lord of it and I Il serve 
+thee. 
+
+Ste. How now shall this be compassed ? 
+Canst thou bring me to the party > 
+
+Cal. Yea, yea, my lord: I'll yield him thee 
+
+asleep, 
+
+Where thou mayst knock a nail into his head. 
+Ari. Thou liest; thou canst not. 70 
+Cal. What a pied ninny’s this! Thou 
+
+scurvy patch! 
+
+I do beseech thy greatness, give him blows 
+
+And take his bottle from him: when that's gone 
+
+He shall drink nought but brine; for I'll not 
+
+show him 
+
+Where the quick freshes are. 
+
+Ste. Trinculo, run into no further danger: 
+interrupt the monster one word further, and, 
+by this hand, I'll turn my mercy out 0’ doors 
+and make a stock-fish of thee. 
+
+Trin. Why, what did I? I did nothing. I ’Il 
+go farther off. 81 
+
+Ste. Didst thou not say he lied? 
+
+Ari. Thou liest. 
+
+Ste. Do I so? take thou that. [Beats Trin.] 
+As you like this, give me the lie another time. 
+
+Trin. I did not give the lie. Out o’ your 
+wits and hearing too? A pox o’ your bottle! 
+this can sack and drinking do. A murrain on 
+your monster, and the devil take your fingers! 
+
+Cal. Ha, ha, ha! 
+
+Ste. Now, forward with your tale. Prithee, 
+stand farther off. 
+
+Cal. Beat him enough: after a little time 
+Ill beat him toc. 
+
+Ste. Stand farther. Come, proceed. 
+
+Cal. Why, as I told thee, ‘tis a custom 
+
+with him, 
+
+1’ th’ afternoon to sleep: there thou mayst 
+
+brain him, 
+
+Having first seized his books, or with a log 
+
+Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake, 
+
+Or cut his wezand with thy knife. Remember 
+
+First to possess his books; for without them 
+
+He’s but a sot, as I am, nor hath not 
+
+One spirit to command: they all do hate him 
+
+As rootedly as I. Burn but his books, 
+
+
+THE TEMPEST 
+
+
+{Act III, Sc. I 
+
+
+He has brave utensils—for so he calls 
+them,— 
+
+Which, when he has a house, he'll deck 
+withal. 
+
+
+And that most deeply to consider is 
+The beauty of his daughter; he himself 
+Calls her a nonpareil: I never saw a woman, 
+But only Sycorax my dam and she; 
+But she as far surpasseth Sycorax 11¢ 
+As great’st does least. 
+Ste. Is it so brave a lass? 
+Cal. Ay, lord; she will become thy bed, ! 
+warrant. 
+And bring thee forth brave brood. 
+
+Ste. Monster, I will kill this man: his 
+daughter and | will be king and queen,—save 
+our graces!—and Trinculo and thyself shall 
+be viceroys. Dost thou like the plot, Trinculo> 
+
+
+Trin. Excellent. 
+
+Ste. Give me thy hand: | am sorry I beat 
+thee; but, while thou livest, keep a good 
+tongue in thy head. 121 
+
+
+Cal. Within this half hour will he be 
+asleep: Wilt thou destroy him then? 
+
+Ste. Ay, on mine honour. 
+
+Ari. This will I tell my master. 
+
+Cal. Thou makest me merry; I am full of 
+
+pleasure: 
+
+Let us be jocund: will you troll the catch 
+You taught me but while-ere? 
+
+Ste. At thy request, monster, I will do 
+
+
+reason, any reason. Come on, Trinculo, let 
+us sing. [Sings. 
+Flout ‘em and scout ‘em 130 
+
+
+And scout ’em and flout "em; 
+Thought is free. 
+
+Cal. That ’s not the tune. 
+
+[Ariel plays the tune on a tabor and pipe. 
+
+Ste. What is this same? 
+
+Trin. This is the tune of our catch, played 
+by the picture of Nobody. 
+
+Ste. If thou beest a man, show thyself in 
+thy likeness: if thou beest a devil, take ‘t as 
+thou list. 
+
+Trin. 
+
+Ste. 
+thee. 
+
+Cal. 
+
+
+O, forgive me my sins! 
+He that dies pays all debts: I defy. 
+Mercy upon us! 14] 
+Art thou afeard? 
+Sie. No, monster, not I. 
+Cal. Be not afeard; the isle is full of 
+noises, 
+Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and 
+hurt not. 
+Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments 
+Will hum about mine ears, and sometimes 
+voices 
+That, if I then had waked after long sleep, 
+Will make me sleep again: and then, in 
+dreaming, ¢ 
+
+
+THE TEMPEST 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+Ws 
+7 
+
+
+riches 150 
+Ready to drop upon me, that, when I waked, 
+I cried to dream again. 
+
+Ste. This will prove a brave kingdom to 
+me, where | shall have my music for nothing. 
+
+Cal. When Prospero is destroyed. 
+
+Ste. That shall be by and by: I remem- 
+ber the story. 
+
+Trin. The sound is going away; let's fol- 
+low it, and after do our work. 
+
+Ste. Lead, ‘monster; we'll follow. I 
+would | could see this taborer; he lays it on. 
+
+
+Trin. Wilt come? I'll follow, Ste- 
+phano. 161 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. Another part of the island. 
+
+
+Enter ALONso, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GON- 
+ZALo, ADRIAN, FRANCcISco, and others. 
+
+
+~~ Gon. By’r lakin, I can go no further, sir; 
+My old bones ache: here's a maze trod indeed 
+Through forth-rights and meanders! By your 
+i patience, 
+I needs must rest me. 
+£ Alon. Old lord, I cannot blame thee, 
+_ Who am myself attach’d with weariness, 
+To the dulling of my spirits: sit down, and rest, 
+Even here I will put off my hope and keep it 
+No longer for my flatterer: he is drown'd 
+Whom thus we stray to find, and the sea mocks 
+me, Our frustrate search on land. Well, let him 
+
+
+go, 10 
+Ant. [Aside to Seb.] 
+
+
+I am right glad 
+that he ’s so out of hope. 
+
+_ Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose 
+
+_ That you resolved to effect. 
+
+Seb. [Aside to Ant.] The next advan- 
+
+tage will we take throughly. 
+
+Ant. [Aside to Seb.] Let it be to-night; 
+
+For, now they are oppress’d with travel, they 
+
+Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilance 
+
+_ As when they are fresh. 
+
+: Seb. [Aside to Ant.] I say, to-night: no 
+
+i more. [Solemn and strange music. 
+
+Alon. What harmony is.this?> My good 
+
+as friends, hark! 
+
+
+Gon. Marvellous sweet music! 
+
+
+Enter. Prospero above, invisible. Enter sev- 
+eral strange Shapes, bringing in a banquet; 
+
+
+salutation; and, inviting the King, &c., to 
+eat, they depart. 
+
+
+Alon. Give us kind keepers, heavens! 
+What were these? 
+
+Seb. A living drollery. Now I will believe 
+
+That there are unicorns, that in Arabia 
+
+
+The clouds methought would open and show | 
+
+
+they dance about it with gentle actions of |. 
+
+
+There is one tree, the pheenix’ throne, one 
+phoenix 
+At this hour reigning there. 
+
+Ant. I'll believe both; 
+And what does else want credit, coine to me, 
+And I'll be sworn ‘tis true; travellers ne'er 
+
+did lie, 
+Though fools at home condemn ‘em. 
+
+Gon. If in Naples 
+I should report this now, would they believe 
+
+me? 
+If I should say, I saw such islanders— ; 
+For, certes, these are people of the island— 30 © 
+Who, though they are of monstrous shape, 
+yet, note, 
+Their manners are more gentle-kind than of 
+Our human generation you shall find 
+Many, nay, almost any. 
+Pros. [Aside] Honest lord, 
+
+
+Thou hast said well; for some of you there 
+
+
+present 
+Are worse than devils. 
+Alon. I cannot too much muse 
+
+
+Such shapes, such gesture and such sound, 
+expressing, 
+
+Although they want the use of tongue, a kind 
+
+OF excellent dumb discourse. 
+
+
+Pros. [Aside] Praise in departing. 
+Fran. They vanish'd strangely. 
+Seb. No matter, since 40 
+
+
+They have left their viands behind; for we 
+
+have stomachs. 
+
+Will ‘t please you taste of what is here? 
+Alon, Not I. 
+Gon. Faith, sir, you need not fear. When 
+
+we were boys, 
+
+Who would believe that there were moun- 
+
+taineers 
+
+Dew-lapp’d like bulls, whose throats had 
+
+hanging at ‘em 
+
+Wallets of flesh> or that there were such men 
+
+Whose heads stood in their breasts? which 
+
+now we find 
+
+Each putter-out of five for one will bring us 
+
+Good warrant of. 
+
+Alon. I will stand to and feed, 
+Although my last: no matter, since I feel 50 
+The best is past. Brother, my lord the duke, 
+Stand to and do as we. 
+
+
+Thunder and lightning. Enter Arex, like a 
+harpy, claps his wings upon the table; 
+and, with a quaint devicc, the banquet van- 
+ishes. 
+
+
+Ari. You are three men of sin, wnom 
+Destiny, 
+That hath to instrument this lower world 
+And what is in ’t, the never-surfeited sea 
+Hath caused to belch up you; and on this island 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+THE TEMPEST 
+
+
+lad 
+
+
+[Act IV, Se, ¢ 
+
+
+Where man doth not inhabit; you ’mongst men 
+Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad; 
+And even with such-like valour men hang 
+and drown 
+Their proper selves. 
+[Alon., Seb. &c. draw their swords. 
+You fools! I and my fellows 60 
+Are ministers of Fate: the elements, 
+Of whom your swords are temper’d, may as 
+well 
+Wound the loud winds, or with bemock'd-at 
+stabs 
+Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish 
+One dowle that’s in my plume: my fellow- 
+ministers 
+Are like invulnerable. If you could hurt, 
+Your swords are now too massy for your 
+strengths 
+And will not be uplifted. But remember— 
+For that’s my business to you—that you three 
+From Milan did supplant good Prospero; 70 
+Exposed unto the sea, which hath requit it, 
+Him and his innocent child: for which foul 
+deed 
+The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have 
+Incensed the seas and shores, yea, all the 
+creatures, 
+Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso, 
+They have bereft; and do pronounce by me 
+Lingering perdition, worse than any death 
+Can be at once, shall step by step attend 
+You and your ways; whose wraths to guard 
+you from— 
+Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls 
+Upon your heads—is nothing but heart-sorrow 
+And a clear life ensuing. 81 
+
+
+He vanishes in thunder; then, to soft music, 
+enter the Shapes again, and dance, with 
+mocks and mows, and carrying out the 
+
+
+table. 
+
+
+Pros. Bravely the figure of this harpy 
+hast thou 
+Perform'd, my Ariel; a grace it had, de- 
+
+
+vouring: 
+Of my istruction hast thou nothing bated 
+In what thou hadst to say: so, with good life 
+And observation strange, my meaner ministers 
+Their several kinds have done. My high 
+charms work 
+And these mine enemies are all knit up 
+In their distractions; they now are in my power; 
+And in these fits I leave them, while I visit 91 
+Young Ferdinand, whom they suppose is 
+drown'd, 
+And his and mine loved darling. [Exit above. 
+Gon. I’ the name of something holy, sir, 
+why stand you 
+In this strange stare? 
+
+
+Alon, O, it is monstrous, monstrous! 
+Methought the billows spoke and told me of it; 
+The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder, 
+That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pro- 
+nounced 
+
+The name of Prosper: it did bass my tres- 
+pass. 
+
+Therefore my son i’ the ooze is bedded, and 
+
+
+I'll seek him deeper than e’er plummet 
+sounded 
+
+And with him there lie mudded. [Exit 
+
+Seb. But one fiend at a time, 
+
+
+I'll fight their legions o’er. 
+
+
+Ant, I'll be thy second. 
+[Exeunt Seb. and Ant, 
+Gon. All three of them are desperate: 
+
+
+their great guilt, 
+Like poison given to work a great time after, 
+Now ‘gins to bite the spirits. I do beseech you 
+That are of suppler joints, follow them 
+swiftly 
+And hinder them from what this ecstasy 
+May now provoke them to. 
+Adr, Follow, I pray you, [Exeunt, 
+
+
+ACT IV; 
+Scene I. Before ProspEro’s cell. 
+Enter Prospero, FERDINAND, and MrrRANDA, 
+
+
+Pros. If I have too austerely punish’d you, 
+Your compensation makes amends, for I 
+Have given you here a thrid of mine own life, 
+Or that for which I live; who once again 
+I tender to thy hafd: all thy vexations 
+Were but my trials of thy love, and thou 
+Hast strangely stood the test: here, afore 
+
+Heaven, 
+I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand, 
+Do not smile at me that I boast her off, 
+For thou shalt find she will outstrip all 
+praise 10 
+And make it halt behind her, 
+
+Fer, I do believe it 
+Against an oracle. 
+
+Pros. Then, .as my gift and thine own 
+
+acquisition 
+Worthily purchased, take my daughter: but 
+If thou dost break her virgin-knot before 
+All sanctimonious ceremonies may * 
+With full and holy rite be minister'd, 
+No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall 
+To make this contract grow; but barren hate, 
+Sour-eyed disdain and discord shall bestrew 20 
+The union of your bed with weeds so loathly 
+That you shall hate it both: therefore take 
+heed, 
+As Hymen’s lamps shall Jight you. 
+
+
+THE TEMPEST 
+
+
+Ne. 
+
+
+1¢ 
+
+
+As I hope 
+
+For. quiet days, fair issue and long life, 
+
+_ With such love as ‘tis now, the murkiest den, 
+
+_ The most opportune place, the strong’st sug- 
+gestion 
+
+Our worser genius can, shall never melt 
+
+_ Mine honour into lust, to take away 
+
+‘The edge of that day’s celebration 
+
+When I shall think, or Phcebus’ steeds are 
+
+
+__ founder’d, 30 
+On Night kept chain’d below. 
+Pros. Fairly spoke. 
+
+
+_ Sit then and talk with her; she is thine own, 
+ye What, Ariel! my industrious servant, Ariel! 
+
+
+Enter ARIEL. 
+
+
+Ari. 
+I am 
+Pros. ‘Thou and thy meaner fellows your 
+
+“ fi last service 
+
+_ Did worthily perform; and I must use you 
+
+_ Im such another trick. Go bring the rabble, 
+
+_ O’er whom I give thee power, here to this 
+
+place: 
+
+~ Incite them to quick motion; for 1 must 
+
+—Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple 40 
+
+_ Some vanity of mine art: it is my promise, 
+
+And ated expect it from me. 
+
+é Presently! 
+
+Sipe Ay, with a twink. 
+
+Ari. Before you can say ‘come’ and “go,” 
+And breathe twice and cry ‘so, so,” 
+Each one, tripping on his toe, 
+
+Will be here with mop and mow. 
+
+; Do you love me, master? no? 
+
+- Pros. Dearly, my delicate Ariel. Do not 
+
+approach 
+
+v8 thou dost hear me call. 
+
+- Ari. Well, I conceive. [Exit. 50 
+
+Pros. Look thou be true; do not give dalli- 
+
+— ence 
+
+Yoo much the rein: the strongest oaths are 
+
+____ straw 
+
+To the fire i’ the blood: be more abstemious, 
+
+‘Or else, good night your vow! 
+
+_ Fer. I warrant you, sir; 
+
+The white cold virgin snow upon my heart 
+
+Abates the ardour of my liver. 
+
+f ‘ Well. 
+
+Now come, my Ariel! bring a corollary, 
+ather than want a spirit: appear, and pertly! 
+[Soft music. 
+
+
+What would my potent master? here 
+
+
+se Enter Iris. 
+
+
+: ris. Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich 
+_ deas 60 
+Of wheat, 
+pease; 
+
+
+rye, barley, vetches, oats and 
+
+
+Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling 
+sheep, 
+
+And flat meads thatch’d with stover, them to 
+
+keep; 
+
+Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims, 
+
+Which spongy April at thy hest betrims, 
+
+To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy 
+broom-groves, 
+
+Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves, 
+
+Being lass-lorn; thy pole-clipt vmeyard; 
+
+And thy sea-marge, sterile and rocky-hard, 
+
+Where thou thyself dost air;—the queen o’ the 
+sky, 70 
+
+Whose watery arch and messenger am I, 
+
+Bids thee leave these, and with her sovereign 
+grace, 
+
+Here on this grass-plot, in this very place, 
+
+To come and sport: her peacocks fly amain: 
+
+Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain. 
+
+
+Enter CEREs. 
+
+
+Cer. Hail, many-colour’d messenger, that 
+ne'er 
+Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter; 
+Who with thy saffron wings upon my flowers 
+Diffusest honey-drops, refreshing showers, 
+And with each end of thy blue bow dost 
+crown 80 
+My bosky acres and my unshrubb’d down, 
+Rich scarf to my proud earth; why hath thy 
+
+
+queen 
+
+Summon'd me hither, to this short-grass’d 
+green? 
+
+Tris. A contract of true love to celebrate; 
+
+
+And some donation freely to estate 
+On the blest lovers. 
+
+Cer. Tell me, heavenly bow, 
+If Venus or her sor, as thou dost know, 
+Do now attend the queen? Since they did plot 
+The means that dusky Dis my daughter got, 
+Her and her blind boy’s scandal’d <ompany 
+I have forsworn. 91 
+
+Tris. Of her society 
+Be not afraid: I met her deity 
+Cutting the clouds towards Paphos and her 
+
+son 
+Dove-drawn with her. Here thought they to 
+have done 
+Some wanton charm upon this man and maid, 
+pass vows are, that no bed-right shall be 
+pai 
+Till Hymen’s torch be lighted: but in vain; 
+Mars's hot minion is return’d again; 
+
+Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows, 
+Swears he will shoot no more but play with 
+sparrows 1 
+
+And be a boy right out. 
+
+Cer. High’st queen of state. 
+
+Great Juno, comes: I know her by her gait. 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+THE TEMPEST “ 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc. 1 
+
+
+Enter Juno. 
+
+
+Juno. How does my bounteous sister? Go 
+with me 
+
+To bless this twain, that they may prosperous be 
+
+And honour’d in their issue. [They sing: 
+
+
+Juno. Honour, riches, marriage-blessing, 
+Long continuance, and increasing, 
+Hourly joys be still upon you! 
+Juno sings her blessings on you, 
+
+
+Cer, 110 
+
+
+Earth’s increase, foison plenty, 
+
+Barns and garners never empty, 
+
+Vines with clustering bunches grow- 
+ing, 
+
+Plants with goodly burthen bowing; 
+
+Spring come to you at the farthest 
+
+In the very end of harvest! 
+
+Scarcity and want shall shun you; 
+
+Ceres’ blessing so is on you. 
+
+
+Fer. This is a most majestic vision, and 
+Harmonious charmingly. May I be bold 
+To think these spirits? 
+
+Pros. Spirits, which by mine art 120 
+I have from their confines call’d to enact 
+My present fancies. 
+
+Fer, Let me live here ever; 
+
+So rare a wonder'd father and a wife 
+Makes this place Paradise. 
+[Juno and Ceres whisper, and send 
+Tris on employment. 
+
+Pros. Sweet, now, silence! 
+Juno and Ceres whisper seriously; 
+
+There’s something else to do: hush, and be 
+mute, 
+
+Or else our spell is marr'd. 
+
+Iris. You nymphs, call’d Naiads, of the 
+
+windring brooks, 
+
+With your sedged crowns and ever-harmless 
+looks, 129 
+
+Leave your crisp channels and on this green 
+land 
+
+Answer your summons; Juno does command: 
+
+Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate 
+
+A contract of true love; be not too late. 
+
+
+Enter certain Nymphs. 
+
+
+You sunburnt sicklemen, of August weary, 
+Come hither from the furrow and be merry: 
+Make holiday; your rye-straw hats put on 
+And these fresh nymphs encounter every one 
+In country footing. 
+
+
+Enter certain Reapers, properly habited: they 
+join with the Nymphs in a graceful dance; 
+towards the end whereof Prospero starts 
+suddenly, and speaks; after which, to a 
+strange, holiow, and confused noise, they 
+heavily vanish. 
+
+
+Pros. [Aside.] 
+
+
+conspiracy 
+
+
+I had forgot that foul 
+
+
+| Of the beast Caliban and his confederates 140 
+Against my life: the minute of their plot 
+Is almost come. [To the Spirits.] Well 
+done! avoid; no more! 
+Fer. This is strange: your father’s in 
+some passion Z 
+That works him strongly. 
+Mir. Never till this day 
+Saw I[ him touch’d with anger so distemper’d 
+Pros. You do look, my son, in a moved son, 
+As if you were dismay'd: be cheerful, sir. 
+Our revels now are ended. These our actors, 
+As I foretold you, were all spirits and 
+Are melted into air, into thin air: 150 
+And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, 
+The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
+The solemn temples, the great globe itself, 
+Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve 
+And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, 
+Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff 
+As dreams are made on, and our little life 
+Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex'd; 
+Bear with my weakness; my old brain is 
+troubled: 
+Be not disturb’d with my infirmity: 160 
+If you be pleased, retire into my cell 
+And there repose; a turn or two I ‘ll walk, 
+To still my beating mind. 
+Fer. Mir. We wish your peace. [Exeunt, 
+Pros. Come with a thought. I thank thee, 
+
+
+Ariel: come. 
+
+
+Enter ARIEL, 
+
+
+Ari. Thy thoughts I cleave to, What's 
+thy pleasure? 
+Pros. « Spirit, 
+
+
+We must prepare to meet with Caliban. 
+Ari. Ay, my commander: when I pre- 
+sented Ceres, 
+I thought to have told thee of it, but I fear’d 
+Lest I might anger thee. 
+Pros. Say again, where didst thou leave 
+these varlets? 170 
+Ari. I told you, sir, they were red-hot 
+with drinking; 
+So full of valour that they smote the air 
+For breathing in their faces; beat the ground 
+For kissing of their feet; yet always bending 
+Towards their project. Then I beat my tabor; 
+At which, like unback’d colts, they prick’d 
+their ears, 
+Advanced their eyelids, lifted up their noses 
+As they smelt music: so I charm’d their ears 
+That calf-like they my lowing follow’d through 
+Tooth'd briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss 
+and thorns, 180 
+Which enter’d their frail shins: 
+left them 
+I’ the filthy-mantled pool beyond your cem 
+
+
+at last J 
+
+
+Acr IV! Sc. 1] 
+
+
+There dancing up to the chins, that the Soul 
+' ake 
+O’erstunk their feet. 
+_ Pros. This was well done, my bird. 
+Thy shape invisible retain thou still: 
+The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither, 
+For stale to catch these thieves. 
+Ari. 1 go, I go. [Exit. 
+Pros. A devil, a born devil, on whose nature 
+Nurture can never stick; on whom my pains, 
+Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost; 190 
+And as with age his body uglier grows, 
+So his mind cankers. I will plague them all, 
+Even to roaring. 
+
+
+Re-enter ARIEL, loaden with glistering 
+apparel, &c. 
+
+
+Come, hang them on this line. 
+
+
+Prospero and ARIEL remain, invisible. Enter 
+CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO, all wet. 
+
+
+_* Cal. Pray you, tread softly, that the blind 
+mole may not 
+Hear a foot fall: we now are near his cell. 
+Ste. Monster, your fairy, which you say is 
+a harmless fairy, has done little better than 
+played the Jack with us. 
+Trin. Monster, I do smell all horse-piss; 
+at which my nose is in great indignation. 200 
+4 Ste. So is mine. Do you hear, monster? 
+If I should take a displeasure against you, 
+look you,— 
+Trin. Thou wert but a lost monster. 
+Cal. Good my lord, give me thy favour still. 
+Be patient, for the prize I "ll bring thee to 
+
+~ Shall. hoodwink this mischance: therefore 
+speak softly. 
+
+All's hush’d as midnight yet. 
+
+Trin. Ay, but to lose our bottles in the 
+
+pool,— 
+
+Ste. There is not only disgrace and dis- 
+honour in that, monster, but an infinite loss. 
+_ Trin, That’s more to me than my wetting: 
+_ yet this is your harmless fairy, monster. 
+
+Ste. I will fetch off my bottle, though I 
+
+
+be o’er ears for my labour. 
+
+
+Cal. Prithee, my king, be quiet. See’st 
+g thou here, 
+
+_ This is the mouth o’ the cell: no noise, and 
+enter. 
+
+_ Do that good mischief which may make this 
+g island 
+
+
+_ Thine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban, 
+_ For aye thy foot-licker. 
+Ste. Give me thy hand. 
+have bloody thoughts, 
+Trin, O king Stephano! 
+
+
+I do begin to 
+220 
+
+
+O peer! O 
+
+
+THE TEMPEST 
+
+
+2\ 
+
+
+worthy Stephano! look what a wardrobe 
+
+here is for thee! 
+
+Cal. Let it alone, thou fool; 
+trash. 
+
+Trin. O, ho, monster! we know what be- 
+longs to frippery. O king Stephano! 
+
+Ste. Put off that gown, Trinculo; by this 
+hand, I'll have that gown. 
+
+Trin. Thy grace shall have it. 
+
+Cal. The dropsy drown this fool! what 
+
+do you mean 230 
+
+To dote thus on such luggage? Let’s alone 
+
+And do the murder first: if he awake, 
+
+From toe to crown he'll fill our skins with 
+
+pinches, 
+
+Make us strange stuff. 
+
+Ste. Be you quiet, monster. Mistress line, 
+is not this my jerkin? Now is the jerkin 
+under the line: now, jerkin, you are like to 
+lose your hair and prove a bald jerkin. 
+
+Trin. Do, do: we steal by line and level, 
+an’t like your grace. 240 
+
+Ste. I thank thee for that jest; here's a 
+garment for ’t: wit shall not go unrewarded 
+while I am king of this country. ‘Steal by 
+line and level’ is an excellent pass of pate; 
+there 's another garment for ’t. 
+
+Trin. Monster, come, put some lime upon 
+your fingers, and sway with the rest. 
+
+Cal. I will have none on ‘t: we shal] lose 
+
+our time, 
+
+And all be turn’d to barnacles, or to apes 
+
+With foreheads villanous low, 250 
+Ste. Monster, lay to your fingers: help to 
+
+bear this away where my hogshead of wine is, 
+
+or I'll turn you out of my kingdom: go to, 
+carry this. 
+
+Trin. And this. 
+
+Ste. Ay, and this. 
+
+A noise of hunters heard. Enter divers Spir- 
+ils, in shape of dogs and hounds, and hunt 
+them about, PRosPERO and ARIEL setting 
+them on. 
+
+Pros. Hey, Mountain, hey! 
+
+Ari. Silver! there it goes, Silver! 
+
+Pros. Fury, Fury! there, Tyrant, there! 
+
+hark! hark! 
+[Cal., Ste., and Trin. are driven out. 
+
+Go charge my goblins that they grind their 
+
+joints 
+
+With dry convulsions, shorten up their sinews 
+
+With aged cramps, and more pinch-spotted 
+
+
+it is but 
+
+
+make them 261 
+Than pard or cat o’ mountain. 
+Ari. Hark, they roar! 
+
+
+Pros. Let them be hunted soundiy. At 
+this hour 
+Lie at my mercy all mine enemies: 
+
+
+Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou 
+
+
+rl 
+
+
+Shalt have the air at freedom: for a little 
+Follow, and do me service. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT V. 
+
+
+Scene I. Before Prospero’s cell. 
+
+
+Enter Prospero in his magic robes, 
+
+
+and ARIEL. 
+Pros. Now does my project gather to a 
+head: icy 
+My charms crack not; my spirits obey; and 
+time 
+
+
+Goes upright with his carriage. How:’s the day ? 
+
+
+Ari. On the sixth hour; at which time, 
+my lord, 
+You said our work should cease. 
+Pros. did say so, 
+
+
+When first I raised the tempest. Say, my spirit, 
+How fares the king and ’s followers? 
+
+Ari. Confined together 
+In the same fashion as you gave in charge, 
+Just as you left them; all prisoners, sir, 
+
+In the line-grove which weather-fends your 
+cell; 
+
+They cannot budge till your release. The king, 
+
+His brother and yours, abide all three dis- 
+tracted 
+
+And the remainder mourning over them, 
+
+Brimful of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly 
+
+Him that you term’d, sir, “The good old lord, 
+Gonzalo;’ 
+
+His tears run down his beard, like winter's 
+drops 
+
+From eaves of reeds. 
+works ’em 
+
+That if you now beheld them, your affectrons 
+
+Would become tender. 
+
+Pros. Dost thou think so, spirit? 
+
+Ari. Mine would, sir, were I human. 
+
+Pros. And mine shall. 20 
+Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling 
+Of their afflictions, and shall not myself, 
+One:of their kind, that relish all as sharply, 
+Passion as they, be kindlier moved than thou 
+
+art? 
+Though with their high wrongs I am struck to 
+the quick, 
+Yet with my nobler reason ‘gainst my fury. 
+Do I take part: the rarer action is 
+In virtue than im vengeance: they being 
+penitent, 
+The sole drift of my purpose doth extend 
+Not a frown further. Go release them, Ariel: 
+My charms I'll break, their senses I Il restore, 
+And they shall be themselves. 
+
+Ari. I'll fetch them, sir. [ Exit. 
+
+Pros. Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing 
+
+lakes and groves, 
+
+
+Your charm so strongly 
+
+
+THE TEMPEST 
+
+
+[Acr V, Se. 1 
+
+
+And ye that on the sands with printless foot 
+Do chase the ebbing Neptune and do fly him 
+
+
+When he comes back; you demi-puppets that 
+By. moonshine do the green sour ringlets make, 
+
+
+Whereof the ewe not bites, and you whose 
+pastime 
+Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice 
+
+
+To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid, 40 
+| Weak masters though ye be, | have bedimm'd 
+
+
+| Have I 
+
+
+. 
+
+
+The noontide sun, call’d forth the mutinous 
+winds, 
+
+And ‘twixt the green sea and the azured, vault 
+
+Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder 
+
+Have I given fire and rifted Jove’s stout oak 
+
+With his own bolt; the strong-based promon- 
+tory 
+
+made shake and by the spurs pluck’d 
+up 
+
+The pine and cedar: graves at my command 
+
+Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let "em 
+forth i 
+
+By my so potent art. But this rough magic 50 
+
+I here abjure, and, when I have required 
+
+Some heavenly music, which even now I do, - 
+
+To work mine end upon their senses that 
+
+This airy charm is for, I'l] break my staff, 
+
+Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, 
+
+And deeper than did! ever plummet sound 
+
+I'll drown my book. [Solemn music. 
+
+
+Re-enter ArtEL before: then ALonso, with a 
+frantic gesture, attended by GONZALO; SE- 
+BASTIAN and ANTONIO in like manner, at- 
+tended by Avrtan and Francisco: they 
+all enter the circle which PROSPERO had 
+made, and. there stand charmed; which 
+PrRosPERO observing, speaks: 
+
+
+‘ 
+fi 
+
+
+A. solemn air and the best comforter 
+To an unsettled fancy cure thy brains, 
+Now useless, boil’d within thy skull! There 
+stand, 60 
+For you are spell-stopp’d. 
+Holy ‘Gonzalo, honourable man, 
+Mine eyes, even sociable to the show of thine, — 
+Fall fellowly drops. The charm dissolves apace, 
+And as the morning steals upon the night, 
+Melting the darkness, so their rising senses 
+Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle — 
+
+
+ae 
+
+
+UN 
+
+
+Their clearer reason. O good Gonzale,. Pi 
+My true preserver, and a loyal sir ae, 
+To him thou follow’st! I will pay thy graces — 
+
+
+Home both in word and deed. Most cruelly 
+
+Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter: | ; 
+
+Thy brother was a furtherer in the act. 
+
+Thou art pinch’d for “t now, Sebastian. Flesh — 
+and blood, : 
+
+You, brother mine, that entertain’d ambition, © 
+
+Expell’d remorse and nature; who, with Se- — 
+bastian, a 
+
+
+Acr V, Sc. I] 
+
+
+Whose inward pinches therefore are most 
+
+
+i _ strong, 
+Would here have kill’d your king; I do for- 
+give thee, 
+Unnatural though thou art. Their under- 
+standing 
+
+
+Begins to swell, and the approaching tide 80 
+
+Will shortly fill the reasonable shore 
+
+That now lies foul and muddy. Not one of 
+them 
+
+That yet looks on me, or would know me: 
+Ariel, 
+
+Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell: 
+
+I will discase me, and myself present 
+
+As I was sometime Milan: quickly, spirit; 
+
+Thou shalt ere long be free. 
+
+
+ARIEL sings and helps to attire him. 
+
+
+Where the bee sucks, there suck I: 
+In a cowslip’s bell I lie; 
+There I couch when owls do cry. 90 
+
+
+~- On the bat’s back I do fly 
+
+
+After summer merrily. 
+Merrily, merrily shall I live now 
+Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. 
+Pros. Why, that’s my daiaty Ariel! 1 
+shall miss thee: 
+But yet thou shalt have freedom: so, so, so. 
+To the king’s ship, invisible as thou art: 
+There shalt thou find the mariners asleep 
+Under the hatches; the master and the boat- 
+swain 
+Being awake, enforce them to this place, 100 
+
+
+‘And presently, I prithee. 
+
+
+Ari- | drink the air before me, and return 
+Or ere your pulse twice beat. [Exit. 
+
+Gon. All torment, trouble, wonder and 
+
+amazement 
+
+Inhabits here: some heavenly power guide us 
+Out of this fearful country! 
+
+‘Pres. Behold, sir king, 
+The wronged Duke of Milan, Prospero: 
+For more assurance that a living prince 
+Does now speak to thee, ] embrace thy body; 
+And to thee and thy company I bid 110 
+A hearty welcome. 
+
+Alon. Whether thou be’st he or no, 
+
+
+Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me, 
+
+
+As late I have been, I not know: thy pulse 
+
+Beats as of flesh and blood; and, since I saw 
+thee, 
+
+The affliction of my mind amends, with which, 
+
+I fear, a madness held me: this must crave, 
+
+An if ‘this be at all, a mest strange story. 
+
+Thy dukedom I resign and do entreat 
+
+Thou pardon me my wrongs. But how should 
+Prospero 
+
+Be living and be here? 
+
+
+THE TEMPEST 23 
+
+
+Pros, First, noble friend, 120 
+Let me-embrace thine age, whose honour can- 
+not 
+Be measured or confined. 
+Gon. Whether this be 
+Or be not, I'll not swear. 
+Pros, You do yet taste 
+
+
+Some subtilties o’ the isle, that will not let you: 
+
+Believe things certain. Welcome, my friends 
+all! 
+
+[Aside to Seb. and Ant.] But you, my brace 
+of lords, were I so minded, 
+
+I here could pluck his highness’ frown upon 
+you 
+
+
+And justify you traitors: at this time 
+
+I will tell no tales, Af 
+Seb. [Aside] The devil speaks in him. ’ 
+Pros. No, 
+
+
+For you, most wicked sir, whom to cal! brother 
+Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive 
+Thy rankest fault; all of them; and require 
+My dukedom of thee, which perforce, I know, 
+Thou must restore. 
+Alon. If thou be’st Prospero, 
+Give us particulars of thy preservation; 
+How thou hast met us here, who three hours 
+since 
+Were wreck’d upon this shore; where I have 
+lost— 
+How sharp the point of this remembrance is!]— 
+My dear son Ferdinand. 
+Pros. I am woe for ‘t, sir. 
+Alon. Irreparable is the loss, and patience 
+Says it is past her cure. 
+Pros. I rather think 141 
+You have not sought her help, of whose soft 
+grace 
+For the like loss I have her sovereign aid 
+And rest myself content. 
+Alon. You the like loss! 
+
+
+Pros. As great to me as late; and, sup» 
+portable 
+
+To make the dear loss, have I means much 
+weaker 
+
+
+Than you may call to comfort you, for 1 
+Have lost my. daughter. 
+
+
+Alon. A daughter? 
+O heavens, that they were living both im 
+Naples, 
+The king and queen there! that they were, | 
+wish 156 
+
+
+Myself were mudded in that oozy bed 
+
+Where my son lies. When did you tose your 
+daughter ? 
+
+Pros. In this last tempest. 
+
+these lords 
+
+At this encounter do so much admire 
+
+That they devour their reason and scarce think 
+
+Their eyes do offices of truth, their words 
+
+
+1 perceive, 
+
+
+L4 , 
+
+
+THE TEMPEST 
+
+
+{Act V, Sc. 1 
+
+
+Are natural breath: but, howsoe’er you have 
+
+Been justled from your senses, know for cer- 
+tain 
+
+That I am Prospero and that very duke 
+
+Which was thrust forth of Milan, who most 
+
+
+strangely 160 
+Upon this shore, where you were wreck'd, was 
+landed, 
+
+
+To be the lord on ’t. No more yet of this; 
+
+For ‘tis a chronicle of day by day, 
+
+Not a relation for a breakfast nor 
+
+Beftting this first meeting. Welcome, sir; 
+
+This cell *s my court: here have I few at- 
+tendants 
+
+And subjects none abroad: pray you, look in. 
+
+My dukedom since you have given me again, 
+
+I will requite you with as good a thing; 
+
+At least bring forth a wonder, to content ye 
+
+As much as me my dukedom. 
+
+
+Here Prospero discovers FERDINAND and 
+Miranpa playing at chess. 
+
+
+Mir, Sweet lord, you play me false. 
+Fer. No, my dear'’st love, 
+{ would not for the world. 
+Mir. Yes, for a score of kingdoms you 
+should wrangle, 
+And I would call it fair play. 
+Alon, If this prove 
+A vision of the Island, one dear son 
+Shall I twice lose. 
+Seb. A most high miracle! 
+Fer. Though the seas threaten, they are 
+merciful; 
+{ have cursed them without cause. [Kneels. 
+Alon. Now all the blessings 
+Of a glad father compass thee about! 180 
+Arise, and say how thou camest here. 
+Mir. O, wonder! 
+How many goodly creatures are there here! 
+How beauteous mankind is! O brave new 
+
+
+world, 
+That has such people in ‘t! 
+Pros. "Tis new to thee. 
+Alon. What is this maid with whom thou 
+
+
+wast-at play? 
+Your eld’st acGuaintance cannot be three 
+
+hours: 
+Is she the goddess that hath sever’d us, 
+And brought us thus together? 
+
+Fer. Sir, she is mortal; 
+
+But by immortal Providence she’s mine: 
+I chose her when I could not ask my father 
+For his advice, nor thought I had one. She 
+Is daughter to this famous Duke of Milan 
+Of whom so often I have heard renown, 
+But never saw before; cf whom | have 
+Received a second life; and second father 
+
+
+This lady makes him to me. 
+Alon, I am hers: 
+But, O, how oddly will it sound that I 
+Must ask my child forgiveness! 
+Pros. There, sir, stop: 
+Let us not burthen our remembrance with 
+A heaviness that's gone. 
+Gon. I have inly wept 200 
+Or should have spoke ere this. Look down, 
+you gods, 
+And on this couple drop a blessed crown! 
+For it is you that have chalk’d forth the way 
+Which brought us hither. 
+Alon. I say, Amen, Gonzalo! 
+Gon. Was Milan thrust from Milan, that 
+his issue 
+Should become kings of Naples? O, rejoice 
+Beyond a common joy, and set it down 
+With gold on lasting pillars: In one voyage 
+Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis 
+And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife 
+Where he himself was lost, Prospero his 
+dukedom 
+In a poor isle and all of us ourselves 
+When no man was his own. 
+Alon. [To Fer. and Mir.] Give me your 
+hands: 
+Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart 
+That doth not wish you joy! 
+Gon. Be it so! Amen! 
+
+
+Re- enter ARIEL, with the Master and Boat- 
+swain amazedly following. 
+
+
+O, look, sir, look, sir! here is more of us: 
+
+I prophesied, if a gallows were on land, 
+This fellow could not drown. Now, blasphemy, 
+That swear’st grace o’erboard, not an oath on 
+
+
+shore? 
+Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the 
+news ? 220 
+Boats. The best news is, that we have 
+
+
+safely found 
+Our king and company; the next, our ship— 
+Which, but three glasses since, we gave out 
+split— 
+Is tight and yare and bravely rigg’d as when 
+We first put out to sea. 
+Ari—[Aside to Pros.] Sir, all this service 
+Have I done since I went. 
+Pros. [Aside to Ari.] My tricksy spirit! 
+Alon. These are not natural events; they 
+strengthen 
+From strange to stranger. 
+you hither? 
+Boats. If I did think, sir, I were well 
+awake, I ‘Id strive to tell you. We were dead 
+of sleep. And—how we know not—all 
+
+
+clapp’d under hatches; 231 
+
+
+Say, how came 
+
+
+Aer V, Sc. I] 
+
+
+Where but even now with strange and several 
+noises 
+
+Of roaring, shrieking, howling, jingling chains, 
+And moe diversity of sounds, all horrible, 
+We were awaked; straightway, at liberty; 
+Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld 
+Our reyal, good and gallant ship, our master 
+Capering to eye her: on a trice, so please you, 
+Even in a dream, were we divided from them 
+And were brought moping hither. 
+
+Ari. [Aside to Pros.] Was ’t well done ?240 
+
+
+Pros. [Aside to Ari.] Bravely, my dih- 
+gence. ‘Thou shalt be free. 
+Alon. This is as strange a maze as eer 
+
+
+men trod; 
+
+And there is in this business more than nature 
+
+Was ever conduct of: some oracle 
+
+Must rectify our knowledge. 
+
+Pros. Sir, my liege, 
+
+Do not infest your mind with beating on 
+
+The strangeness of this business; at pick’d 
+leisure 
+
+Which shall be shortly, single I ‘ll resolve you, 
+
+Which to you shall seem probable, of every 
+
+These happen’d accidents; till when, 
+cheerful 
+
+And think of each thing well. [Aside to Ari.] 
+Come hither, spirit: 251 
+
+Set Caliban and his companions free; 
+
+Untie the spell. [Exit Ariel.] How fares my 
+gracious sir? 
+
+There are yet missing of your company 
+
+Some few odd lads that you remember not. 
+
+
+be 
+
+
+Re-enter ARIEL, driving in CALIBAN, STE- 
+PHANO and TRINCULO, in their stolen 
+apparel. 
+
+
+Ste. Every man shift for all the rest, and 
+let no man take care for himself; for all is 
+but fortune. Coragio, bully-monster, coragio! 
+
+Trin. If these be true spies which I wear 
+in my head, here’s a goodly sight. 260 
+
+Cal. O Setebos, these be brave spirits in- 
+
+deed! 
+How fine my master is! 
+He will chastise me. 
+
+Seb. Ha, ha! 
+
+What things are these, my lord Antonio? 
+
+
+I am afraid 
+
+
+Will money buy ‘em? 
+
+
+Ant. Very like; one of them 
+Mis a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable. 
+
+
+Pros. Mark but the badges of these men, 
+' my lords, 
+Then say if they be true. This mis-shapen 
+knave, 
+
+
+His mother was a witch, and one so strong 
+That could control the moon, make flows 
+
+
+and ebbs, 270 
+
+
+THE, TEMPEST 
+
+
+25 
+
+
+And deal in her command without her power. 
+
+These three have robb’d me; and this demi- 
+devil— 
+
+For he’s a bastard one—had plotted with them 
+
+To take my life. Two of these fellows you 
+
+Must know and own; this thing of darkness I 
+
+Acknowledge mine. 
+
+
+Cal. I shall be pinch’d to death. 
+
+
+Alon. Is not this Stephano, my drunken 
+butler? 
+
+Seb. He is drunk now: where had he 
+wine > 
+
+
+Alon, And Trinculo is reeling ripe: where 
+should they 
+Find this grand liquor that hath gilded “em? 
+How camest thou in this pickle? 281 
+Trin. I have been in such a pickle since I 
+saw you last that, I fear me, will never out 
+of my bones: I shall not fear fly-blowing. 
+Seb. Why, how now, Stephano! 
+Ste. O, touch me not; I am not Stephane, 
+but a cramp. 
+Pros. You 'ld be king o’ the isle, sirrah? 
+Ste. I should have been a sore one then. 
+Alon. This is a strange thing as e’er I 
+look’d on. [Pointing to Caliban. 
+Pros. He is as disproportion'd in his man- 
+ners 
+As in his shape. Go, sirrah, to my cell; 291 
+Take with you your companions; as you lock 
+To have my pardon, trim it handsomely. 
+Cal. Ay, that I will; and I'll be wise 
+hereafter 
+And seek for grace. Whata thrice-double ass 
+Was I, to take this drunkard for a god 
+And worship this dull fool! 
+Pros. Go to; 
+Alon. Hence, and bestow 
+where you found it. 
+Seb. Or stole it, rather. 
+[Exeunt Cal., Ste., and Trin. 
+Pros. Sir, I invite your highness and your 
+train 300 
+To my poor cell, where you shali take your rest 
+For this one night; which, part of it, I ll waste 
+With such discourse as, [ not doubt, shal? 
+make it 
+Go quick away; the story of my life 
+And the particular accidents gone by 
+Since I came to this isle: and in the morn 
+I'll bring you to your ship and so to Naples, 
+Where I have hope to see the nuptial 
+Of these our dear-beloved solemnized; 
+And thence retire me to my Milan, where 310 
+Every third thought shall be my grave. 
+Alon. I long 
+To hear the story of your life, which must 
+Take the ear strangely. 
+Pros, I'll deliver all 
+
+
+away! 
+your luggage 
+
+
+26 THE TEMPEST 
+
+
+[Acre Vy Set 
+
+
+And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales 
+
+
+And sail so expeditious that shall catch 
+
+
+Your royal fleet far off. [Aside to Ari.] My 
+
+
+Ariel, chick, 
+That is thy charge: then to the elements 
+
+
+Be free, and fare thou well! Please you, 
+draw near. [Exeunl. 
+
+
+EPILOGUE. 
+SPOKEN BY PROSPERO. 
+
+
+Now my charms are all o’erthrown, 
+And what strength I have ’s mine own, 
+Which is most faint: now, ‘tis true, 
+
+I must be here confined by you, 
+
+
+Or sent to Naples. Let me not, 
+Since I have my dukedom got 
+
+And pardon’d the deceiver, dwell 
+
+In this bare island by your spell; 
+
+But release me from my bands 
+
+With the help of your good hands: 10 
+Gentle breath of yours my sails 
+
+Must fill, or else my project fails, 
+Which was to please. Now I want 
+Spirits to enforce, art to enchant, 
+
+And my ending is despair, 
+
+Unless I be relieved by prayer, 
+
+Which pierces so that it assaults 
+
+Mercy itself and frees all faults. 
+
+As you from crimes would pardon’d be, 
+Let your indulgence set me free. 2 
+
+
+DRAMATIS 
+
+
+‘Duxe gF Miran, Father to Silvia. 
+eee. tthe two Gentlemen. 
+ANTONIO, Father to Proteus. 
+Tuurio, a foolish rival to Valentine. 
+
+s Eciamour, Agent for Silvia in her escape. 
+Host, where Julia lodges. 
+
+- QuTLaws, with Valentine. 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+
+
+Scene I. Verona. 
+Enier VALENTINE and PROTEUS. 
+Val. Cease to persuade, my loving Pro- 
+s _ teus: 
+
+_ Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits. 
+Were 't not affection chains thy tender days 
+To the sweet glances of thy honour’d love, 
+I rather would entreat thy company 
+
+_ To see the wonders of the world abroad 
+
+
+An open place, 
+
+
+_ Than, living dully sluggardized at home, 
+_ Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness. 
+But since thou lovest, love still and thrive 
+therein, 
+_ Even as I would when I to love begin. 10 
+Pro. Wilt thou be gone? Sweet Valen- 
+7a tine, adieu! 
+_ Think on thy Proteus, when thou haply seest 
+Some rare note-worthy object in thy travel: 
+_ Wish me partaker in thy happiness 
+_ When thou dost meet good hap; and in thy 
+danger, 
+If ever danger do environ thee, 
+_ Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers, 
+For I will be thy beadsman, Valentine. 
+_ Wal. And on a love-book pray for my 
+success > 
+_ Pro. Upon some book I love I'll pray for 
+thee. 20 
+
+
+_ Val. That’s on some shallow story of deep 
+love: 
+ow young Leander cross’d the Hellespont. 
+__ Pro. That's a deep story of a deeper love; 
+For he was more than over shoes in love. 
+Val, "Tis true; for you are over boots in 
+love, 
+And ‘yet you never swum the Hellespont. 
+
+_ Pro. Over the boots? nay, give me not the 
+boots. 
+
+Val. No, I will not, for it boots thee not. 
+Pro. What? 
+
+
+PERSON/E 
+
+
+SPEED, a clownish servant to Valentine, 
+
+Launce, the like to Proteus. 
+
+PANTHINO, Servant to Antonio, 
+
+Juta, beloved of Proteus. 
+
+Sitvia, beloved of Valentine. 
+
+LuceETTA, waiting-woman to Julia, 
+Servants, Musicians. 
+
+Scene, Verona; Milan; the frontiers of 
+
+Mantua. 
+
+
+Val. To be in love, where scorn is bought 
+with groans; 
+
+
+| Coy looks with heart-sore sighs; one fading 
+
+
+mirth 
+watchful, weary, tedious nights: 
+perhaps a hapless gain; 
+If lost, why ten a grievous labour won; 
+However, bt a folly bought with wit, 
+Or else a w-t by folly vanquished. 
+Pro. So, by your circumstances, you call 
+me fool. 
+Val. So, by your circumstances, I fear 
+you ‘Il prove. 
+
+
+moment 
+With twenty 
+If haply wo 
+
+
+Pro. ‘Tis love you cavil at: I am not 
+Love. 
+
+Val. Love is your master, for he masters 
+you: 
+
+
+And he that is so yoked by a fool, 40 
+Methinks, should not be chronicled for wise. 
+Pro. Yet writers say, as in the sweetest 
+bud 
+The eating canker dwells, so eating love 
+Inhabits in the finest wits of all. 
+Val. And writers say, as the most forward 
+bud c 
+Is eaten by the canker ere it blow, 
+Even so by love the young and tender wit 
+Is turn’d to folly, blasting in the bud, 
+Losmg his verdure even in the prime 
+And all the fair effects of future hopes. 50 
+But wherefore waste I time to counsel thee 
+That art a votary to fond desire? 
+Once more adieu! my father at the road 
+Expects my coming, there to see me shipp’d. 
+
+
+Pro. And thither will I bring thee, Val- 
+entine. 
+Val. Sweet Proteus, no; now let us take 
+
+
+our leave. 
+To Milan let me hear from thee by letters 
+Of thy success in love and what news else 
+Betideth here in absence of thy friend; 
+And likewise will visit thee with mine. 60 
+
+
+27 
+
+
+28 
+
+
+THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERCNA 
+
+
+[AcrolsSe:s 
+
+
+Pro. A\ll happiness bechance to thee in 
+Milan! 
+
+
+Val. As much to you at home! and so, 
+farewell. [Exit. 
+Pro. He after honour hunts, I after love: 
+
+
+He leaves his friends to dignify them more; 
+I leave myself, my friends and all, for love. 
+Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphosed me, 
+Made me neglect my studies, lose my time, 
+War with good counsel, set the world at 
+nought; 
+Made wit with musing weak, heart sick with 
+thought. 
+Enter SPEED. 
+Speed. Sir Proteus, save you! Saw you 
+my master ? 0 
+
+Pro. But now he parted hence, to embark 
+
+for Milan. 
+
+Speed. ‘Twenty to one then he is shipp’d 
+
+already, 
+And I have play'd the sheep in losing him. 
+
+Pro. Indeed, a sheep doth very often 
+
+stray, 
+An if the shepherd be a while away. 
+
+Speed. You conclude that my master is 
+a shepherd then and I a sheep? 
+
+Pro. 1 do. 
+
+Speed. Why then, my horns are his horns, 
+whether I wake or sleep. 80 
+
+Pro. A silly answer and fitting well a sheep. 
+
+Speed. This proves me still a sheep. 
+
+Pro, True; and thy master a shepherd. 
+
+Speed. Nay, that I can deny by a cir- 
+cumstance. 
+
+Pro. It shall go hard but I'll prove it by 
+another. 
+
+Speed. The shepherd seeks the sheep, and 
+not the sheep the shepherd; but | seek my 
+master, and my master seeks not me: there- 
+fore | am no sheep. 91 
+
+Pro. The sheep for fodder follow the 
+shepherd; the shepherd for food follows not 
+the sheep: thou for wages followest thy mas- 
+ter; thy master for wages follows not thee: 
+therefore thou art a sheep. 
+
+Speed. Such another proof will make me 
+cry ‘baa.’ 
+
+Pro. But, dost thou hear? gavest thou my 
+letter to Julia? 100 
+
+Speed. Ay, sir: I, a lost mutton, gave 
+your letter to her, a laced mutton, and she, a 
+laced mutton, gave me, a lost mutton, nothing 
+for my labour. 
+
+Pro. Here's too small a pasture for such 
+store of muttons. 
+
+Speed. If the ground be overcharged, you 
+were best stick her. 
+
+Pro. Nay: in that you are astray, ‘twere 
+best pourd you. 110 
+
+
+Speed. Nay, sir, less than a pound shall 
+serve me for carrying your letter. 
+Pro. You mistake; I mean the pound—a 
+pinfold. 
+Speed. From a pound to a pin? fold it 
+over and over. 
+
+
+‘Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter — 
+
+
+to your lover. 
+
+
+Pro. But what said she? 
+Speed. [First nodding] Ay. 
+Pro. Nod—Ay—why, that’s noddy. 
+
+
+Speed. You mistook, sir; I say, she did 
+nod: and you ask if she did nod; and I say, 
+
+
+y. 
+
+Pro. And that set together is noddy. 
+
+Speed. Now you have taken the pains to 
+set it together, take it for your pains. 
+
+Pro. No, no; you shall have it for bearing 
+the letter. 
+
+Speed. Well, I perceive I must be fain to 
+bear with you. 
+
+Pro. Why, sir, how do you bear with me? 
+
+Speed. Marry, sir, the letter, very order- 
+ly; having nothing but the word ‘noddy’ for 
+
+
+my pains. 
+
+Pro. Beshrew me, but you have a quick 
+wit. 
+
+Speed. And yet it cannot overtake your 
+slow purse. 
+
+Pro. Come, come, open the matter in 
+
+
+brief: what said she? 
+Speed. Open your purse, that the money 
+and the matter may be both at once delivered. 
+Pro. Well, sir, here is for your pains. 
+What said she? 140 
+Speed. Truly, sir, I think you'll hardly 
+
+
+win her. 
+
+
+Pro. Why, couldst thou perceive so much - 
+
+
+from her ? 
+
+Speed. Sir, I could perceive nothing at all 
+from her; no, not so much as a ducat for 
+delivering your letter: and being so hard to me 
+
+
+that brought your mind, I fear she ‘Il prove as — 
+
+
+hard to you in telling your mind. Give her 
+no token but stones; for she’s as hard as steel. 
+Pro. What said she?’ nothing? 150 
+Speed. No, not so much as “Take this for 
+thy pains.” To testify your bounty, I thank 
+you, you have testerned me; in requital 
+whereof, henceforth carry your letters your- 
+self: and so, sir, I'll commend you to my 
+master. 
+Pro. Go, go, be gone, to save your ship 
+from wreck, 
+Which cannot perish having thee aboard, 
+Being destined to a drier death on shore. 
+[Exit Speed. 
+I must go send some better messenger: 
+I fear my Julia would not deign my lines, 160 
+
+
+Act I, poe i) 
+
+
+Receiving them from such a worthless post. 
+[Exit. 
+Scene Il. The same. Garden of Jutia’s 
+house. 
+
+
+Enter Jutta and Lucetta. 
+
+
+Jul. But say, Lucetta, now we are alone, 
+~ Wouldst thou then counsel me to fall in love? 
+Luc. Ay, madam, so you stumble not un- 
+heedfully. 
+Jul. Of all the fair resort of gentlemen 
+_ That every day with parle encounter me, 
+In thy opinion which is worthiest love > 
+Luc. Please you repeat their names, I ‘Il 
+show my mind 
+_ According to my shallow simple skill. 
+Jul. What think’st thou of the fair Sir 
+
+
+Eglamour ? 
+Luc. As of a knight well-spoken, neat and 
+fine; 10 
+
+
+_ But, were I you, he never should be mine. 
+_ ful. What think’st thou of the rich Mer- 
+ catio?> 
+Luc. Well of his wealth; but of himself, 
+$O so. 
+Jul. What think’st 
+_ Proteus ? 
+_ Luc. Lord, Lord! to see what folly reigns 
+in us! 
+Jul. How now! what means this passion 
+at his name? 
+Luc. Pardon, dear madam: 
+shame 
+‘That I, unworthy body as I am, 
+ould censure thus on lovely gentlemen. 
+Jul. Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest? 
+Luc. Then thus: of many good I think him 
+best. 21 
+jul. Your reason? 
+Luc. I have no other but a woman's rea- 
+son; | think him so because I think him so. 
+_ Jul. And wouldst thou have me cast my 
+love on him? 
+Luc. Ay, if you thought your love not 
+cast away. 
+x Jul. Why he, of all the rest, hath never 
+moved me. 
+Luc. Yet he, of alt the rest, I think, best 
+loves ye, 
+Jul. His little speaking shows his love but 
+small. 
+Tas Fire that's closest kept burns most of 
+all. 
+oa JulsThey do not love that do not show their 
+me love. 
+~ Luc. O, they love least that let men know 
+; their love. 
+
+
+ji. 
+
+
+thou of the gentle 
+
+
+‘tis a passing 
+
+
+I would I knew his mind. 
+
+
+THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA 
+
+
+| 
+
+
+Ne. 
+
+
+2S 
+
+
+Luc. Peruse this paper, madam. 
+
+Jul. ‘To Julia.” Say, from whom? 
+
+Luc. That the contents will show. 
+
+Jul. Say, say who gave it thee? 
+
+Luc. Sir Valentine's page; and sent, I 
+
+
+think, from Proteus. 
+He would have given it you; but I, being in 
+the way, 
+Did in your name receive it: pardon the 
+fault, I pray. 40 
+Jul. Now, by my modesty, a goodly 
+broker! 
+Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines ? 
+To whisper and conspire against my youth? 
+Now, trust me, ‘tis an office of great worth 
+And you an officer fit for the place. 
+There, take the paper: see it be return’d; 
+Or else return no more into my sight. 
+Luc. To plead for love deserves more fee 
+than hate. 
+Jul. Will ye be gone? 
+
+
+Luc. That you may ruminate. 
+[Exit. 
+
+Jul. And yet I would I had o’erlooked the 
+letter: 50 
+
+
+It were a shame to call her back again 
+
+And pray her to a fault for which | chid her. 
+
+What a fool is she, that knows I am a maid, 
+
+And would not force the letter to my view! 
+
+Since maids, in modesty, say ‘no’ to that 
+
+Which they would have the profferer construe 
+ay. 
+
+Fie, fie, how wayward is this foolish love 
+
+That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse 
+
+And presently all humble kiss the rod! 
+
+How churlishly I chid Lucetta hence, 60 
+
+When willingly I would have had her here! 
+
+How angrily I taught my brow to frown, 
+
+When inward joy enforced my heart to 
+smile! 
+
+My penance is to call Lucetta back 
+
+And ask remission for my folly past. 
+
+What ho! Lucetta! 
+
+
+~ Re-enter Lucetta. 
+What would your ladyship? 
+
+
+Jul. Is"t near dinner-time? 
+
+Luc. I would it were, 
+That you might kill your stomach on your meat 
+And not upon your maid. 
+
+Jul. What is ’t that you took up so ginger- 
+
+
+Nothing: 71 
+Jul. Why didst thou stoop, then? 
+Luc. To take a paper up that I let fall. 
+Jul. And is that paper nothing? 
+
+. Nothing concerning me. 
+Jul. Then let it lie for those that it con- 
+cerns. 
+
+
+Lue. 
+
+
+30. 
+
+
+Luc. Madam, it will not lie where it con- 
+cerns, 
+
+Unless it have a false interpreter. 
+
+Jul. Some love of yours hath writ to you 
+in rhyme. 
+Luc. ‘That I might sing it, madam, to a tune. 
+
+Give me a note: your ladyship can set. 81 
+Jul. As little by such toys as may be pos- 
+
+sible, 
+Best sing it to the tune of ‘Light o’ love.’ 
+Luc. It is too heavy for so light a tune. 
+Jul. Heavy! belike it hath some burden 
+then? 
+
+Luc. Ay, and melodious were it, would 
+you sing it. 
+
+Jul. And why not you? 
+
+
+Luc. I cannot reach so high. 
+Jul. Let’s see your song. How now, minion! 
+Luc. Keep tune there still, so you will sing 
+
+
+it out: 
+And yet methinks I do not like this tune. 90 
+You do not? 
+No, madam; it is too sharp. 
+You, minion, are too saucy. 
+Nay, now you are too flat 
+And_ mar the concord with too harsh a descant: 
+There wanteth but a mean to fill your song. 
+Jul. The mean is drown’d with your un- 
+ruly bass. 
+Luc. Indeed, I bid the base for Proteus. 
+Jul. This babble shall not henceforth 
+trouble me. 
+Here is a coil with protestation! 
+[Tears the letter. 
+Go get you gone, and let the papers lie: 100 
+You would be fingering them, to anger me. 
+Luc. She makes it strange; but she would 
+be best pleased 
+To be so anger’d with another letter. [Exit. 
+Jul. Nay, would I were so anger'd with the 
+same | 
+O hateful hands, to tear such loving words! 
+Injurious wasps, to feed on such sweet honey 
+And _ kill the bees that yield it with your stings! 
+I'll kiss each several paper for amends. 
+Look, here is writ ‘kind Julia.” Unkind Julia! 
+As in revénge of thy ingratitude, 110 
+I throw thy name against the bruising stones, 
+Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain. 
+And here is writ ‘love-wounded Proteus.’ 
+Poor wounded name! my bosom asa bed. 
+Shall lodge thee till thy wound be throughly 
+heal'd; 
+And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss. 
+But twice or thrice was ‘Proteus’ written down. 
+Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away 
+Till I have found each letter in the letter, 
+Except mine own name: that some whirlwind 
+
+
+bear 120 
+
+
+THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. I 
+
+
+Unto a ragged fearful-hanging rock 
+
+
+_| And throw it thence into the raging sea! 
+
+
+Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ, 
+‘Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus, 
+To the sweet Julia:’ that I'll tear away. 
+
+And yet I will not, sith so pretuly 
+
+He couples it to his complaining names. 
+Thus will I fold them one upon another: 
+Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will. 
+
+
+Re-enter LUCETTA. 
+Luc. Madam, 
+
+
+Dinner is ready, and your father stays. 
+Jul. Well, let us go. 
+Luc. What, shall these papers lie like tell- 
+tales here? 
+Jul. If you respect them, best to take them 
+
+
+130 
+
+
+up. 
+
+Luc. Nay, I was taken up for laying them 
+
+down: 
+
+Yet here they shall not lie, for catching cold. 
+Jul. 1 see you have a month's mind to them. 
+Luc. Ay, madam, you may say what 
+
+sights you see; 
+
+I see things too, although you judge I wink. 
+Jul. Come, come; will 't please you go? 
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+Scene IU. The same. Antonio's house. 
+
+Enter Antonio and PAaNTHINO, | 
+
+Ant. Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk 
+
+was that ‘ 
+
+Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister ? 
+Pan. ‘Twas of his nephew Proteus, your son. 
+Ant. Why, what of him? 
+
+Pan. He wonder’d that your lordship 
+Would suffer him to spend his youth at home, 
+While other men, of slender reputation, 
+
+Put forth their sons to seek preferment out: 
+
+Some of the wars, to try their fortune there; 
+
+Some to discover islands far away; 
+
+Some to the studious universities, 10 
+
+For any or for all these exercises 
+
+He said that Proteus your son was meet, 
+
+And did request me to importune you 
+
+To let him spend his time no more at home, 
+
+Which would be great impeachment to his age, 
+
+In having known no travel in his youth. 
+Ant. Nor need'st thou much importune me 
+
+to that 
+
+Whereon this month I have been hammering. 
+
+I have consider'd well his loss of time 
+
+And how he cannot be a perfect man, 20 
+
+Not being tried and iutor’d in the world: 
+
+Experience is by industry achieved 
+
+And perfected by the swift course of time. _ 
+
+Then tell me, whither were I best to send him? 
+Pan. 1 think your lordship is not ignorant 
+
+How his companion, youthful Valentine, 
+
+Attends the emperor in his royal court. 
+
+
+a xf at! 
+Act IL, Se. V1 
+3 ay, Toland: well, 
+Pan. "“Twere good, I think, your lordship 
+
+
+oe sent him thither: 
+_ There shall he practise tilts and tournaments, 
+Hear sweet discourse, converse with noblemen, 
+And be in eye of every exercise 
+q Worthy his youth and nobleness of birth. 
+4 Ant, 1 like thy counsel; well hast thou ad- 
+vised: 
+And that thou mayst perceive how well I like it 
+The execution of it shall make known. 
+Even with the speediest expedition 
+rapes | Vm dispatch him to the emperor's court. 
+: Pan. ‘To-morrow, may it please you, Don 
+‘ Alphonso 
+With other gentlemen of good esteem 40 
+Are journeying to salute the emperor 
+And to commend their service to his will. 
+_Ant. Good company; with them shall 
+Proteus go: 
+And, in good time! now will we break with 
+him. 
+aaa Enter Proteus. 
+
+
+Pro. Sweet love! sweet lines! sweet life! 
+Here is her hand, the agent of her heart; 
+Here is her oath for love, her honour’s pawn. 
+___O, that our fathers would applaud onr loves, 
+
+To seal our happiness with their consents! 
+- O heavenly Julia! 
+Ant. How now! what letter are you read- 
+ing there? 
+Pro. May’t please your lordship, 
+word or two 
+_Of commendations sent from Valentine, 
+Deliver’d by a friend that came from him. 
+
+
+tis a 
+
+
+Ant. Lend me the letter; let me see what 
+news. 
+Pro. ‘There is no news, my lord, but that 
+
+
+= he writes 
+
+How happily he lives, how well beloved 
+And daily graced by the emperor; 
+ishing me with him, partner of his fortune. 
+
+
+Ant. And how stand you affected to his 
+wish? 60 
+Pro. As one relying on your lordship’s will 
+
+
+_ And not depending on his friendly wish. 
+_ Ant. My will is something sorted with his 
+wish. 
+
+_ Muse not that I thus suddenly proceed; 
+
+~ For what I -will, I will, and there an end. 
+
+Biasmiresolved'tNat thou shalt spend some time 
+
+With Valentinus in the emperor’s court: 
+
+~ What maintenance he from his friends receives, 
+
+Like exhibition thou shalt have from me. 
+
+To-morrow be in readiness to go: 70 
+Excuse it not, for I am peremptory. 
+
+Pro. My lord, I cannot be so soon pro- 
+vided: 
+
+_ Please you, deliberate a day or two. 
+
+
+THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA 
+
+
+3\ 
+
+
+Ant. Look, what thou want’st shall b¢ 
+-sent after thee: 
+No more of stay! to-morrow thou must go. 
+Come on, Panthino: you shall be employ’d 
+To hasten on his expedition. 
+
+
+[Exeunt Ant. and Par, 
+
+
+Pro. Thus have I shunn’d the fire for fear 
+of burning, 
+And drench'd me in the sea, where I am 
+drown'd. 
+
+
+I fear’d to show my father Julia’s letter, 80 
+Lest he should take exceptions to my love; 
+And with the vantage of mine own excuse 
+Hath he excepted most against my love. 
+O, how this spring of love resembleth 
+The uncertain glory of an April day, 
+Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, 
+And by and by a cloud takes all away! 
+
+
+Re-enter PANTHINO, 
+
+
+Pan. Sir Proteus, your father calls for you: 
+He is in haste; therefore, | pray you, go. 
+Pro. Why, this it is: my heart accords there- 
+to, 
+And yet a thousand times it answers ‘no.’ 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT II. 
+
+
+Scene I. Milan. The Duxe’s palace. 
+Enter VALENTINE and SPEED. 
+
+
+Speed. Sir, your glove. 
+
+Val. Not mine; my gloves are on, 
+
+Speed. Why, then, this may be yours, for 
+
+this is but one. 
+Val. Hal! let me see: ay, give it me, it ’s 
+mine: 
+
+Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine! 
+Ah, Silvia, Silvia! 
+
+Speed. Madam Silvia! Madam Silvia! 
+
+Val. How now, sirrah>? 
+
+Speed. She is not within hearing, sir. 
+
+Val. Why, sir, who bade you call her? 
+
+Speed. Your worship, sir; or else I mis- 
+took. 10 
+
+Val. Well, you'll still be too forward. 
+
+Speed. And yet I was last chidden for 
+being too slow. . 
+
+Val. Go to, sir: 
+Madam Silvia? 
+
+Speed. She that your worship loves? 
+
+Val. Why, how know you that I am in love? 
+
+Speed. Marry, by these special marks: 
+first, you have learned, like Sir Proteus, to 
+wreathe your arms, like a malecontent; to rel- 
+ish a love-song, like a robin-redbreast; to 
+walk alone, like ene that had the pestilence; 
+to sigh, like a schoolboy that had lost his A B 
+C; to weep, like a young wench that had 
+buried her grandam; to fast, like one that 
+
+
+tell me, do you know 
+
+
+32 
+
+
+THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA 
+
+
+[Act Il, Sc. 1 
+
+
+takes diet; to watch, like one that fears rob- 
+bing; to speak puling, like a beggar at Hal- 
+lowmas. You were wont, when you laughed, 
+to crow like a cock; when you walked, t 
+walk like one of the lions; when you fasted, 
+it was presently after dinner; when you 
+looked sadly, it was for want of money: and 
+now you are metamorphosed with a mistress, 
+that, when I look on you, I can hardly think 
+you my master. 
+
+Val. And all these things perceived in me? 
+
+Speed. They are all perceived without ye. 
+
+Val. Without me? they cannot. 
+
+Speed. Without you? nay, that’s certain, 
+for, without you were so simple, none else 
+would: but you are so without these follies, 
+that these follies are within you and shine 
+' through you like the water in an urinal, that 
+not an eye that sees you but is a physician to 
+comment on your malady, 
+
+Val. But tell me, dost thou know my lady 
+Silvia? 
+
+Speed. She that you gaze on so as she 
+sits at supper ? 
+
+Val. WHast thou observed that? even she, I 
+mean. 
+
+Speed. Why, sir, I know her not. 50 
+
+Vai, Dost thou.know her by my gazing 
+on her, and yet knowest her not? 
+
+Speed. Is she not hard-favoured, sir? 
+
+Val. Not so fair, boy, as well-favoured. 
+
+Speed. Sir, I know that well enough. 
+
+Val. What dost thou know? 
+
+Speed. That she is not so fair as, or you, 
+well favoured. 
+
+Val. 1 mean that her beauty is exquisite, 
+but her favour infinite. 
+
+Speed. That's because the one is painted 
+and the other out of all count. 
+
+Val. How painted? and how out of count? 
+
+Speed. Marry, sir, so painted, to make her 
+fair, that no man counts of her beauty. 
+
+Val. How esteemest thou me? I account 
+of her beauty. 
+
+Speed. You never saw her since she was 
+deformed. 70 
+
+Val. How long hath she been deformed ? 
+
+Speed. Ever since you loved her. 
+
+Val. I have loved her ever since I saw 
+her; and still I see her beautiful. 
+
+
+Speed. If you love her, you cannot see 
+her. 
+Val. Why? 
+
+
+Speed. Because Love is blind. O, that 
+you had mine eyes; or your own eyes had the 
+lights they were wont to have when you chid 
+
+
+at Sir Proteus for going ungartered! 
+Val. What should I see then? 80 
+
+
+Speed. Your own present fclly and her | 
+
+
+passing deformity: 
+could not see to garter his hose, and you, 
+being in love, cannot see to put on your hose. 
+
+Val. 
+for last morning you could not see to wipe 
+my shoes. 
+
+
+Speed. True, sir; 1 was in love with my 
+
+
+bed: I thank you, you swinged me for my 
+love, which makes me the bolder to chide 
+you for yours. 
+
+Val. In conclusion, I stand affected to her, 
+
+Speed. 1 would you were set, so your 
+affection would cease. 
+
+Val. Last night she enjoined me to write 
+some lines to one she loves. 
+
+Speed. And have you? 
+
+Val. I have. 
+
+Speed. Are they not lamely writ? 
+
+Val. No, boy, but as well asl can do them. 
+Peace! here she comes. 
+
+
+Speed. [Aside] O excellent motion! O 
+exceeding puppet! Now will he interpret to her. 
+
+
+Enter Sirvia. 
+
+
+Val. Madam and mistress, a thousand 
+good-morrows. 
+Speed. [Aside] O, give ye good even! 
+
+
+here's a million of manners. 
+
+
+Sil. Sir Valentine and servant, to you two 
+thousand. 
+Speed. [Aside] He should give her in- 
+
+
+terest, and she gives it him. 
+Val. As you enjoin’d me, I hae writ 
+your letter 110 
+Unto the secret nameless friend of yours; 
+Which I was much unwilling to proceed in 
+But for my duty to your ladyship. 
+Sil. I thank you, gentle servant: 
+clerkly done. 
+Val. 
+ly off; 
+For being ignorant to whom it goes 
+I writ at random, very doubtfully. 
+Sil. Perchance you think too much of so 
+much pains? 
+
+
+Val. No, madam; so it stead you, | will 
+write, 
+Please you command, a thousand times as 
+much; 
+And yet— 121 
+Sil. A pretty period! Well, I guess the 
+sequel ; 
+
+
+And yetI will not name it; and yet I care not; 
+And yet take this again; and yet I thank you, 
+Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more. 
+Speed. [Aside] And yet you will; and 
+yet another ‘yet.’ 
+Val. What means your ladyship? do you 
+not like it? 
+
+
+for he, being in love, | 
+
+
+Belike, boy, then, you are in love; . 
+
+
+‘tis very’ 
+
+
+Now trust me, madam, it came hard: 
+
+
+te A f v4 
+
+
+THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA 
+
+
+~ 
+
+
+33 
+
+
+‘Sil. Yes, yes: 
+ly writ; 
+
+" But since unwillingly, take them again. 
+pi Nay. take them. 
+
+Val. Madam, they are for you. 
+Sil. Ay, ay: you writ them sir, at my re- 
+if quest; 
+
+_ But I will none of them; they are for you; 
+I would have had them writ more. movingly. 
+Val. Please you, I'll write your ladyship 
+another. 
+
+Sil. And when it’s writ, for my sake Es 
+ai it over, 
+
+We biAna if it please you, so; if not, why, so. 
+Wal) e1F xt please me, madam, what then? 
+Sil. Why, if it please you, take it for your 
+labour: 139 
+“And so, good morrow, servant. [Exit. 
+Speed. O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, 
+A; a nose on a man’s face, or a weathercock 
+on a steeple! 
+
+My master sues to her, and she hath taught 
+her suitor! 
+
+He being her pupil, to become her tutor. 
+
+O excellent device! was there ever heard a 
+better, 
+
+That my master, being scribe, to himself should 
+write the letter? 
+
+Val. How now, sir? what are you reason- 
+ing with yourself? 
+
+
+the lines are very quaint- 
+
+
+130 
+
+
+_ Speed. Nay, I was rhyming: ‘tis you that 
+nave the reason. 150 
+Val. To do what? 
+_ Speed. To be a spokesman from Madam 
+Silvia. 
+Val. To whom? 
+
+
+Bh: Speed. To yourself: why, she wooes you 
+
+
+by a figure. 
+
+Val. What figure? 
+
+Speed. By a letter, I should say. 
+
+Val. Why, she hath not writ to me? 
+Speed. What need she, when she hath 
+made you write to yourself? Why, do you 
+ot perceive the jest? 160 
+Val. No, believe me. 
+
+Speed, No believing you, indeed, sir 
+did you perceive her earnest? 
+
+_ Val. She gave me none, except an angry 
+word. 
+
+Speed. Why, she hath given you a letter. 
+Bi Val, That's the letter I writ to her friend. 
+Speed. And that letter hath she delivered, 
+
+
+Val. 1 paula: it were no worse. 
+Speed. I ‘Il warrant you, ‘tis as well: 170 
+For often have you writ to her, and she, in 
+modesty, 
+
+else for want of idle time, could not again 
+reply: 
+
+
+But 
+
+
+Or fearing else some messenger that might her 
+
+mind discover, 
+
+Herself hath taught her love himself to write 
+
+unto her lover. 
+
+All this I speak in print, for in print I found 
+
+it. 
+
+Why muse you, sir? 
+Val. 1 have dined. 
+Speed. Ay, but hearken, sir; though the 
+
+chameleon Love can feed on the air, | am 
+
+one that am nourished by my victuals and 
+would fain have meat. O, be not like your 
+mistress; be moved, be moved. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. Verona, Jutia’s house, 
+Enter Proteus and JuLia. 
+
+
+‘tis dinner-time. 
+
+
+Pro. Have patience, gentle Julia, 
+Jul. 1 must, where is no remedy. 
+Pro. When possibly I can, I will return. 
+
+
+Jul. If you turn not, you will return the 
+sooner. 
+Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake. 
+[Giving a ring. 
+Pro, Why, then, we'll make exchange; 
+here, take you this. 
+Jul. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss. 
+Pro. Here is my hand for my true con- 
+stancy ; 
+And when that hour o’erslips me in the day 
+Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake, 
+The next ensuing hour some foul mischance 
+Torment me for my love's forgetfulness! 
+My father stays my coming; answer not; 
+The tide is now: nay, not thy tide of tears; 
+That tide will stay me longer than I should. 
+Julia, farewell! [Exit Julia. 
+at, gone without a word? 
+Ay, so true love should do: it cannot speak; 
+For truth hath better deeds than words to 
+grace it. 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+Enter PANTHINO. 
+
+
+Pan. Sir Proteus, you are stay’d for, 
+Pro. Go; I come, I come. 
+Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb. 
+[Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene III. The same. A street. 
+Enter Launce, leading a dog. 
+
+
+Launce. Nay, ‘twill be this hour ere I 
+have done weeping; all the kind of the 
+Launces have this very fault. I have received 
+my proportion, like the prodigious son, and 
+am going with Sir Proteus to the Imperial’s 
+court. I think Crab my dog be the sourest- 
+natured dog that lives: my mother weeping, 
+my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid 
+howling, our cat wringing her hands, and all 
+
+
+our house in a great perplexity, yet did not 
+
+
+34 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA 
+
+
+[Act II, Sc. IV 
+
+
+this cruel-hearted cur shed one tear: he is a 
+stone, a very pebblestone, and has no more 
+pity in him than a dog: a Jew would have 
+wept to have seen our parting; why, my 
+grandam, having no eyes, look you, wept her- 
+self blind at my parting. Nay, I ‘ll show you 
+the manner of it. This shoe is my father: no, 
+this left shoe is my father: no, no, this left 
+shoe is my mother: nay, that cannot be so 
+neither: yes, it is‘so, it is so, it hath the worser 
+sole. This shoe, with the hole in it, is my 
+mother, and this my father; a vengeance on’t 
+there ‘tis; now, sir, this staff is my sister, 
+for, look you, she is as white as a lily and 
+as small as a wand: this hat is Nan, our 
+maid: I am the dog: no, the dog is himself, 
+and I am the dog—Oh, the dog is me, and | 
+am myself; ay, so, so. Now come I| to my 
+father; Father, your blessing: now should not 
+the shoe speak a word for weeping: now 
+should I kiss my father; well, he weeps on. 
+Now come I to my mother: O, that she could 
+speak now like a wood woman! Well, I kiss 
+her; why, there "tis; here ’s my mothzr’s breath 
+up and down. Now come I to my sister; 
+mark the moan she makes. Now the dog all 
+this while sheds not a tear nor speaks a word; 
+but see how I lay the dust with my tears. 
+
+
+Enter PANTHINO. 
+
+
+Pan. Launce, away, away, aboard! thy 
+master is shipped and thou art to post after 
+with oars. What’s the matter? why weepest 
+thou, man? Away, ass! you'll lose the tide, 
+if you tarry any longer. 
+
+Launce. It is no matter if the tied were 
+lost; for it is the unkindest tied that ever any 
+man tied. 
+
+Pan. What's the unkindest tide? 
+
+Launce. Why, he that’s tied here, Crab, 
+my dog. 
+
+Pan. Tut, man, | mean thou ‘It lose the 
+flood, and, in losing the flood, lose thy voyage, 
+and, in losing thy voyage, lose thy master, 
+and, in losing’ thy master, lose thy service, 
+and, in losing thy service,—Why dost thou 
+stop my mouth? 51 
+For fear thou shouldst lose thy 
+
+
+Launce. 
+tongue. 
+Pan. Where should I lose my tongue? 
+Launce. In thy tale. 
+Pan. In thy tail! 
+Launce. Lose the tide, and the voyage, 
+
+
+and the master, and the service, and the tied! 
+Why, man, if the river were dry, I am able 
+to fill it with my tears; if the wind were 
+down, I could drive the boat with my sighs. 60 
+
+Pan. Come, come away, man; I was sent 
+to call thee, 
+
+
+Launce. Sir, call me what thou darest. 
+Pan. Wilt thou go? 
+Launce. Well, I will go. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Milan. 
+
+
+Enter Sttvia, VALENTINE, THURIO, 
+and SPEED, 
+
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+The Duxe’s palace. 
+
+
+Sil. Servant! 
+
+Val. Mistress > 
+
+Speed. Master, Sir Thurio frowns on you. 
+Val. Ay, boy, it’s for love. 
+
+Speed. Not of you. 
+
+
+Val. Of my mistress, then. 
+
+Speed. “Twere good you knocked him, 
+[Exit. 
+
+Sil. Servant, you are sad, 
+
+Val. Indeed, madam, I seem so. 
+
+Thu. Seem you that you are not? 10 
+
+Val. Haply I do. 
+
+Thu. So do counterfeits. 
+
+Val. So do you. 
+
+Thu. What seem I that I am not? 
+
+Val. Wise. 
+
+Thu. What instance of the contrary? 
+
+Val. Your folly. 
+
+Thu. And how quote you my folly? 
+
+Val. 1 quote it in your jerkin, 
+
+Thu. My jerkin is a doublet. 20 
+
+Val. Well, then, I'll double your folly. 
+
+Thu. How? 
+
+Sil. What, angry, Sir Thurio! do you 
+
+
+change colour? 
+
+Val. Give him leave, madam; he is a kind 
+of chameleon. 
+
+Tha. That hath more mind to feed on 
+your blood than live in your air. 
+
+Val. 
+
+Thu. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time. 
+
+Val. 1 know it well, sir; you always end 
+ere you begin, 
+
+Sil. A fine volley of words, gentlemen, 
+and quickly shot off. 
+
+
+Val. -"Tis indeed, madam; we thank the 
+giver. 
+Sil. Who is that, servant? 
+
+
+Val. Yourself, sweet lady; for you gave 
+the fire. Sir Thurio borrows his wit from your 
+ladyship’s looks, and spends what he borrows 
+kindly in your company. 40 
+
+Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word 
+with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt. 
+
+Val. 1 know it well, sir; you have an ex- 
+chequer of words, and, I think, no other treas- 
+ure to give your followers, for it appears by 
+their bare liveries, that they live by your bare 
+words, 
+
+Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more: here 
+comes my father. 
+
+
+You have said, sir. 29 . 
+
+
+ai Me i ek le 
+
+
+_— | =" 
+
+
+: 
+
+
+Yee oe i = 
+
+
+EE 
+
+
+Act II, Sc. 1V] = THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA 35 
+
+
+Sil. Nay, then he should be blind; and; 
+
+
+Enter DUKE. fete Pee 
+rer eing blin 
+Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard | How could he see his way to seek out you? 
+beset, Val. Why, lady, Love hath twenty pie 
+Sir Valentine, your father ’s in good health: of eyes. 
+What say you to a letter from your friends Thu, They say that Love hath not an eve 
+Of much good news? at all. 
+Val. My lord, I will be thankful Val. To see such lovers, Thurio, as Touseelk: 
+To any happy messenger from thence. Upon a homely object Love can wink. 
+Duke. Know ye Don Antonio, your coun- Sil. Have done, have done; here comes 
+tryman >? the gentleman. 
+ey Ay, my good lord, I know the gen- Enter Proteus. [Exit THurio. 
+tleman f 1 oats 
+To be of worth and worthy estimation fesennsle Sean? dear Proteus! eae 
+And not without desert so well reputed. Soe ; 5 
+Confirm his welcome with some special favour. 
+Duke. Hath he not a son? : : : J 
+Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome 
+Val. Ay, my good lord; a son that well hither 
+deserves : 2 Des 
+The honour and regard of such a father. 60 If thie’ be he you off have wish’d to hear from. 
+; Val. Mistress, it is: sweet lady, entertain 
+Duke. You know him well? him 
+Val. I know him as myself; for from our To be my fellow-servant to your ladyshi 
+infanc P- 
+We h y See Btn ci ponte Sil. Too low a mistress for so high a servant, 
+& on SO PPEB NA QUr a ONE Pro. Not so, sweet lady: but too mean a 
+
+
+. servant 
+And though myself have been an idle truant, "To" have alaSWot-cuch? & wary. aciktreas! 
+
+
+mauling the sweet henekt of puns . Val. Leave off discourse of disability: 
+To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection, ee 
+Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant. 116 
+Yet hath Sir Proteus, for that’s his name, ; y 
+Pro. My duty will I boast of; nothing else. 
+
+
+Made use and fair advantage of his days; Sil, And duty never yet did want his meed: 
+His years but young, but his experience old; Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mis- 
+His head unmellow’d, but his judgement ripe; pe 
+
+
+And, in a word, for far behind his worth 71 WE x : 
+Comes all the praises that I now bestow, fe Il die on him that says so but your- 
+
+
+He is complete in feature and in mind Sil 
+
+
+With all good grace to grace a gentleman. That you are welcome? 
+‘ : . Pro. That you are worthless. 
+Duke. Beshrew me, sir, but if he make this 
+: good, Re-enter THurIO. 
+He is as worthy for an empress’ love Thu. Madam, my lord your father would 
+As meet to be an emperor’s counsellor. speak with you. : 
+Well, sir, this gentleman is come to me, Sil. 1 wait upon his pleasure. Come, Sir 
+With commendation from great potentates; Thurio, 
+And here he means to spend his time awhile: | Go with me. Once more, new servant, welcome: 
+I think ‘tis no unwelcome news to yeu. 81 | I'll leave you to confer of home affairs;. 119 
+Val. Should I have wish'd a thing, it had | When you have done, we look to hear from you, 
+been he. Pro. We'll both attend upon your hady- 
+Duke. Welcome him then ak tame to his ship. [Exeunt Silvia and Thurio. 
+worth. Val. Now, tell me, how do all from 
+Silvia, I speak to you, and you, Sir Thurio; whence you came? 
+For Valentine, I need not cite him to it; Pro. Your friends are well and have them 
+I will send him hither to you presently. [Fxit. much commended. 
+Val. This is the gentleman I| told your Val. And how do yours? ' 
+ladyship Pro. I left them all in health. 
+
+
+Had come along with me, but that his mistress Val. How does your lady? and how 
+
+
+_Did hold his eyes lock’d in her crystal looks. thrives your love? 
+, Sil. Belike that now she hath enfranchised| Pro. My tales of love were wont to weary 
+them 90 you; 
+Upon some other pawn for fealty. I know you joy not in a love-discourse, 
+
+
+Val. Nay, sure, I think she holds them Val. Ay, Proteus, but that life is alter’ 
+
+
+prisoners still. now: 
+
+
+36 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA 
+a a aN a aN 
+
+
+I have done penance for contemning Love, 
+Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd 
+me 130 
+With bitter fasts, with penitential groans, 
+With nightly tears and daily heart-sore sighs; 
+For in revenge of my contempt of love, 
+Love hath chased sleep from my enthralled eyes 
+And made them watchers of mine own heart's 
+sorrow. 
+O gentle Proteus, Love's a mighty lord 
+Aad hath so humbled me as I confess 
+This is no woe to his correction 
+Nor to his service no such joy on earth, 
+Now no discourse, except it be of love; 140 
+Now can I break my fast, dine, sup and sleep, 
+Upon the very naked name of love. 
+Pro. Enough; | read your fortune in your 
+eye. 
+Was this the idol that you worship so? 
+Val. Even she; and is she not a heavenly 
+saint? 
+Pro. No; but she is an earthly paragon. 
+
+
+Val. Call her divine. 
+
+Pro. I will not flatter her. 
+
+Val. O, flatter me; for love delights in 
+praises. 
+
+Pro. When I was sick, you gave me bitter 
+pills, 
+
+And I must minister the like to you. 150 
+
+Val. Then speak the truth by her; if not 
+
+divine, 
+
+
+Yet let her be a principality, 
+Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth. 
+Pro. Except my mistress. 
+Val. Sweet, except not any; 
+Except thou wilt except against my love. 
+Pro. Have I not reason to prefer mine own? 
+Val. And 1 will help thee to prefer her too: 
+She shall be dignified with this high honour— 
+To bear my lady's train, lest the base earth 
+Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss 
+And, of so great a favour growing proud, 161 
+Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower 
+Aad make rough winter everlastingly. 
+Pro. Why, Valentine, what braggardism is 
+this? 
+Vat. Pardon me, Proteus: all I can is 
+nothing 
+To ‘her whose worth makes other worthies 
+nothing; 
+She is alone. 
+Pro. Then let her alone. 
+Val. Not for the world: why, man, she is 
+mine own, 
+And I as rich in having such a jewel 
+As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl, 170 
+The water nectar and the rocks pure gold. 
+Forgive me that I do not dream on thee, 
+Berause thou see'st me dote upon my love. 
+
+
+pha, 4, 4 
+re 
+
+
+[Act Il, Sc. V 
+
+
+My foolish rival, that her father likes 
+Only for his possessions are so huge, 
+Is gone with her along, and I must after, 
+For love, thou know’st, is full of jealousy, 
+Pro. But she loves you? 
+Val. Ay, and we are betroth’d: nay, more, 
+our marriage-hour, 
+With all the cunning manner of our flight, 180 
+Determined of; how I must climb her win- 
+dow, 
+The ladder made of cords, and all the means’ 
+Plotted and ‘greed on for my happiness. 
+Good Proteus, go with me to my chamber, 
+In these affairs to aid me with thy counsel. 
+Pro. Go on before; I shall inquire you 
+forth: 
+I must unto the road, to disembark 
+Some necessaries that I needs must use, 
+And then I'll presently attend you. 
+Val, Will you make haste? 190 
+Pro. will. [Exit Valentine. 
+Even as one heat another heat expels, 
+Or as one nail by strength drives out another, 
+So the remembrance of my former love 
+Is by a newer object quite forgotten. 
+tls it mine, or Valentine’s praise, 
+Her true perfection, or my false transgression, 
+That makes me reasonless to reason thus? 
+She is fair; and so is Julia that I love—_ 
+That I did love, for now my love is thaw'd; 
+Which, like a waxen image *gainst a fire, 
+Bears no impression of the thing it was. 
+Methinks my zeal to Valentine is cold, 
+And that I love him not as I was wont. 
+O, but I love his lady too too much, 
+And that’s the reason I love him so little, 
+How shall I dote on her with more advice, 
+That thus without advice begin to love her! 
+"Tis but her picture I have yet beheld, 
+And that hath dazzled my reason’s light; 
+But when I look on her perfections, 
+There is no reason but I shall be blind. 
+If I can check my erring love, I will: 
+If not, to compass her I "Il use my skill. [Exih 
+
+
+Scene V. The same. A street. 
+Enter SpeeD and LAUNCE severally. 
+
+
+Speed. Launce! by mine honesty, wel- 
+come to Milan! 
+
+Launce. Forswear not thyself, sweet youth, 
+for I am not welcome. I reckon this always, 
+that a man is never undone till he be hanged, 
+nor never welcome to a place till some certain 
+shot be paid and the hostess say “Welcome!” 
+
+Speed. Come on, you madcap, I'll to the 
+alehouse with you presently; where, for one 
+shot of five pence, thou shalt have five thou- 
+sand welcomes. But, sirrah, how did thy mas- 
+ter part with Madam Julia? 
+
+
+Aer Il, Sc. VI]. THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA 
+
+
+37 
+
+
+Launce. Marry, after they closed in ear- 
+nest, they parted very fairly in jest. 
+
+Speed. But shall she marry him? 
+
+Launce. No. 
+
+Speed. How then? shall he marry her? 
+
+Launce. No, neither. 
+
+Speed. What, are they broken? 19 
+
+Launce. No, they are both as whole as a fish. 
+
+Speed. Why, then, how stands the matter 
+with them? : 
+
+Launce. Marry, thus; when it stands well 
+with him, it stands well with her. 
+
+Speed. What an ass art thou! 
+stand thee not. 
+
+Launce. What a block art thou, that thou 
+canst not! My staff understands me. 
+
+Speed. What thou sayest> 
+
+Launce. Ay, and what I do too: look thee, 
+Vl but lean, and my staff understands me. 31 
+
+Speed. It stands under thee, indeed. 
+
+Launce. Why, stand-under and under- 
+stand is all one. 
+
+Speed. But tell me true, will 't be a match? 
+
+Launce. Ask my dog: if he say ay, it 
+will; if he say no, it will; if he shake his tail 
+
+and say nothing, it will. 
+
+' Speed. ‘The conclusion is then that it will. 
+
+Launce. Thou shalt never get such a secret 
+from me but by a parable. 
+
+Speed. ‘Tis well that I get it so. But, 
+Launce, how sayest thou, that my master is 
+become a notable lover? 
+
+Launce. I never knew Xim otherwise. 
+
+Speed. Than how? 
+
+Launce. A notable lubber, as thou re- 
+
+portest him to be. 
+
+; Speed. Why, thou whoreson ass, thou mis- 
+takest me. 50 
+
+Launce. Why, fool, I meant not thee; | 
+meant thy master. 
+
+Speed. I tell thee, my master is become a 
+hot lover. 
+
+Launce. Why, | tell thee, I care not though 
+he burn himself in love. If thou wilt, go with 
+me to the alehouse; if not, thou artan Hebrew, 
+a Jew, and not worth the name of a Christian. 
+
+Speed. Why? 59 
+
+Launce. Because thou hast not so much 
+charity in thee as to go to the ale with a 
+Christian. Wilt thou go? 
+
+Speed. At thy service. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene VI. The same. The Duxe’s palace. 
+Enter Proteus. 
+‘Pro. To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn; 
+To love fair Silvia, shall I be forsworn; 
+__ To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworn; 
+And even that power which gave me first my 
+oath 
+
+
+I under- 
+
+
+Provokes me to this threefold perjury; 
+
+Love bade me swear and Love bids we for- 
+swear. 
+
+O sweet-suggestiag Love, if thou hast sinn'd, 
+
+Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it! 
+
+At first I did adore a twinkling star, 
+
+But now I worship a celestial sun. 
+
+Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken, 
+
+And he wants wit that wants resolved will 
+
+To learn his wit to exchange the bad for better. 
+
+Fie, fie, unreverend tongue! to call her bad, 
+
+Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferr'd 
+
+With twenty thousand soul-confirming oaths. 
+
+I cannot leave to love, and yet I do; 
+
+But there I leave to love where | should love. 
+
+Julia I lose and Valentine I lose: 
+
+If I keep them, I needs must lose myself; 20 
+
+If I lose them, thus find I by their loss 
+
+For Valentine myself, for Julia Silvie. 
+
+I to myself am dearer than a friend, 
+
+For love is still most precious in itself; 
+
+And Silvia—witness Heaven, that made her 
+fair !— 
+
+Shows Julia but a swarthy Ethiope. 
+
+I will forget that Julia is alive, 
+
+Remembering that my love to her is dead; 
+
+And Valentine Ill hold an enemy, 
+
+Aiming at Silvia as a sweeter friend. 
+
+I cannot now prove constant to myself, 
+
+Without some treachery used to Valentine, 
+
+This night he meaneth with @ corded ladder 
+
+To climb celestial Silvia’s chamber-window, 
+
+Myself in counsel, his competitor. 
+
+Now presently I'll give her father notice 
+
+Of their disguising and pretended flight; 
+
+Who, all enraged, will banish Valentine; 
+
+For Thurio, he intends, shall wed his daughter; 
+
+But, Valentine being gone, I ‘Il quickly cross 40 
+
+By some sly trick blunt Thurio's dull pro- 
+ceeding. 
+
+Love, lend me wings to make my purpose 
+swift, 
+
+As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift! 
+
+[Exit. 
+
+
+Scene VII. Verona. Jutta's house. 
+Enter Juuia and Lucerra, 
+
+
+Jul. Counsel, Lucetta; gentle girl, assist me; 
+And even in kind love I do conjure thee, 
+Who art the table wherein all my thoughts 
+Are visibly character’d and engraved, 
+
+To lesson me and tell me some good mean 
+How, with my honour, I may undertake 
+A journey to my loving Proteus. 
+
+Luc. Alas, the way is wearisome and long! 
+Jul. A «ue-devoted pilgrim is not weary 
+To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps; 10 
+Much less shall she that hath Love’s wings ta 
+
+
+fly, 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+38 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA [Act III, Sc. I 
+
+
+And when the flight is made to one so dear, 
+Of such divine perfection, as Sir Proteus. 
+Luc. Better forbear till Proteus make return. 
+Jul. O, know’st thou not his looks are my 
+soul's food? 
+Pity the dearth that I have pined in, 
+By longing for that food so long a time. 
+Didst thou but know the inly touch of loye, 
+Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow 
+As seek to quench the fire of love with words. 
+Luc, I do not seek to quench your love's 
+hot fire, 
+But qualify the fire’s extreme rage, 
+Lest it should burr above the bounds of reason. 
+Jui. The more thou damm’st it up, the 
+more it burns. 
+The current that with gentle murmur glides, 
+Thou know’st, being stopp’d, impatiently doth 
+rage; 
+But when his fair course is not hindered, 
+He makes sweet music with the enamell'’d 
+
+
+stones, 
+Gwving a gentle kiss to every sedge 
+He overtaketh in his pilgrimage, 30 
+
+
+And so by many winding nooks he strays 
+With willing sport to the wild ocean. 
+Then let me go and hinder not my course: 
+I'll be as patient as a gentle stream 
+And make a pastime of each weary step, 
+Till the last step have brought me to my love; 
+And there I'll rest, as after much turmoil 
+A blessed soul doth in Elysium. 
+Luc. But in what habit will you go along? 
+Jul. Not like a woman; for I would prevent 
+The loose encounters of lascivious men: 41 
+Genile Lucetta, fit me with such weeds 
+As may beseem some well-reputed page. 
+
+
+Luc. Why, then, your ladyship must cut 
+your hair. 2 
+
+Jul. No, girl; I'll knit it up in silken 
+strings 
+
+
+With twenty odd-conceited trué-love knots. 
+To be fantastic may become a youth 
+OF greater time than I shall show to be. 
+Luc. What fashion, madam, shall I make 
+your bréeches? 
+Jul. That fits as well as ‘Tell me, good my 
+lord, 50 
+What compass will you wear your farthingale >’ 
+even what fashion thou best likest, 
+'  Lucetta. 
+Lac. You must needs have them with a 
+codpiece, madam. 
+Jal. Out, out, Lucetta! that will be ill- 
+favour’d, 
+Luc. A round hose, madam, now’s not 
+worth a pin, 
+Unless you have a codpiece to stick pins on. 
+Jul. Lucetta, as thou lovest me, let me have 
+
+
+i 
+} 
+
+
+What thou thinkest meet and is most mannerly. 
+
+But tell me, wench, how will the world repute 
+me 
+
+For undertaking so unstaid a journey? 60 
+
+I fear me, it will make me scandalized, 
+
+Luc. If you think so, then stay at home 
+
+and go not, 
+
+Jul. Nay, that I will not. 
+
+Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but go. 
+If Proteus like your journey when you come, 
+No matter who's displeased when you are gone: 
+I fear me, he will scarce be pleased withal. 
+
+Jul. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear: 
+A thousand ‘oaths, an ocean of his tears 
+And instances of infinite of love 70 
+Warrant me welcome to my Proteus. 
+
+Luc. A\ll these are servants to deceitful men. 
+
+Jul, Base men, that use them to so base 
+
+effect! 
+But truer stars did govern Proteus’ birth; 
+His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles, 
+His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate, 
+His tears pure messengers sent from his heart, 
+His heart as far from fraud as heaven from 
+earth, 
+
+Luc. Pray heaven he prove so, when you 
+
+come to him! 
+
+Jul. Now, as thou lovest me, do him not 
+
+that wrong 80 
+To bear a hard opinion of his truth: 
+Only deserve my love by loving him; 
+And presently go with me to my chamber, 
+To take a note of what I:stand in need of, 
+To furnish me upon my longing journey. 
+All that is mine I leave at thy dispose, 
+My goods, my lands, my reputation; 
+Only, in lieu theréof, dispatch me hence, 
+Come, answer not, but to it presently! 
+I am impatient of my tarriance. [Exeunt. 90 
+
+
+ACT III. 
+Scene I. Milan. The Duxe’s palace, 
+Enter Duke, THurio, and Proteus. 
+Duke. Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, 
+
+
+awhile; 
+We have some secrets to confer about. 
+[Exit Thu. 
+Now, tell me, Proteus, what's your will with 
+me >? 
+Pro. My gracious lord, that which I would 
+discover 
+
+
+The law of friendship bids me to conceal; 
+
+But when I call to mind your gracious favours 
+
+Done to me, undeserving as | am, 
+
+My duty pricks me on to utter that 
+
+Which else no worldly good should draw 
+from me. 9 
+
+Know, worthy prince, Sir Valentine, my friend, 
+
+
+This night intends to steal away your daughter: 
+
+
+a) 
+
+
+y 
+
+
+Act III, Sc. {] THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA 
+
+
+¥ 
+
+
+a4 Lee eh 
+Perot: es es 
+pet pea ae * 
+¥ 
+
+
+Myself am one made privy to the plot. 
+
+I know you have determined to bestow her 
+On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates; 
+And should she thus be stol’n away from you, 
+
+
+_ It would be much vexation to your age. 
+
+
+Thus, for my duty’s sake, I rather chose 
+To cress my friend in his intended drift 
+Than, by concealing it, heap on your head 
+A pack of sorrows which would press you down, 
+Being unprevented, to your timeless grave. 21 
+Duke. Proteus, I thank thee for thine hon- 
+est care; 
+Which to requite, command me while I live. 
+This love of theirs myself have often seen, 
+Haply when they have judged me fast asleep, 
+And oftentimes have purposed to forbid 
+Sir Valentine her company and my court: 
+But fearing lest my jealous aim might err 
+And so unworthily disgrace the man, 
+A rashness that I ever yet have shunn’d, 
+I gave him gentle looks, thereby to find 
+That which thyself hast now disclosed to me. 
+And, that thou mayest perceive my fear of this, 
+Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested, 
+I nightly lodge her in an upper tower, 
+The key whereof myself have ever kept; 
+And thence she cannot be convey’d away. 
+Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devised 
+a mean 
+How he her chamber-window wil! ascend 
+And with a corded ladder fetch her down; 40 
+For which the youthful lover now is gone 
+And this way comes he with it presently; 
+Where, if it please you, you may intercept him. 
+But, good my lord, do it so cunningly 
+That my discovery be not aimed at; 
+For love of you, not hate unto my friend, 
+Hath made me publisher of this pretence. 
+_ Duke. Upon mine honour, he shall never 
+know 
+That I had any light from thee of this. 
+Pro. Adieu, my lord; Sir Valentine is 
+coming. [Exit. 50 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+Enter VALENTINE. 
+
+
+Duke. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast? 
+__ Val. Please it your grace, there is a messenger 
+
+
+__ That stays to bear my letters to my friends, 
+
+
+And I am going to deliver them. 
+Duke. Be they of much import? 
+Val. The tenour of them doth but signify 
+My health and happy being at your court. 
+Duke. Nay then, no matter; stay with me 
+awhile; 
+I am''to break with thee of some affairs 
+That touch me near, wherein thou must be 
+secret. 60 
+"Tis not unknown to thee that I have sought 
+To match my friend Sir Thurio to my daughter. 
+
+
+39 
+
+
+Val. 1 know it well, my lord; and, sure, 
+the match 
+Were rich and honourable; besides, the gen- 
+tleman 
+
+
+Is full of virtue, bounty, worth and qualities 
+Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter: 
+Cannot your grace win her to fancy him? 
+Duke. No, trust me; she is peevish, sullen, 
+froward, 
+Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty, 
+Neither regarding that she is my child 7¢ 
+Nor fearing me as if I were her father; 
+And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers, 
+Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her; 
+And, where I thought the remnant of mine age 
+Should have been cherish’d by her child-like 
+duty, 
+I now am full resolved to take a wife 
+And turn her out to who will take her in: 
+Then let her beauty be her wedding-dower; 
+For me and my possessions she esteems not. 
+Val. What would your grace have me to 
+do in this? 80 
+Duke. {There is a lady in Verona here 
+Whom I affect; but she is nice and coy 
+And nought esteems my aged eloquence: 
+Now therefore would I have thee to my tutor— 
+For long agone | have forgot to court; 
+Besides, the fashion of the time is changed— 
+How and which way I may bestow myself 
+To be regarded in her sun-bright eye. 
+Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not 
+words: 
+Dumb jewels often in their silent kind 90 
+More than quick words do move a woman's 
+mind. . 
+Duke. But she did scorn a present that | 
+sent her. 
+Val. A woman sometimes scorns what best 
+contents her. 
+Send her another; never give her o’er; 
+For scorn at first makes after-love the more. 
+If she do frown, ‘tis not in hate of you, 
+But rather to beget more love in you: 
+If she do chide, ‘tis not to have you gone; 
+For why, the fools are mad, if left alone. 
+Take no repulse, whatever she doth say; 100 
+For ‘get you gone,’ she doth not mean ‘away!’ 
+Flatter and praise, commend, extol their graces; 
+Though ne'er so black, say they have angels’ 
+faces. 
+That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no 
+man, 
+If with his tongue he cannot win a woman. 
+Duke. But she I mean is promised by her 
+friends 
+Unto a youthful gentleman of worth, 
+And kept severely from resort of men, 
+That no man hath access by day to her, 
+
+
+40 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA 
+
+
+Pa 
+{Acr III, Sc. 1 
+
+
+Val. Why, then, I would resort to her by 
+night. 110 
+Duke. Ay, but the doors be lock’d and 
+keys kept safe, 
+That no man hath recourse to her by night. 
+Val. What lets but one may enter at her 
+window ? : 
+Duke. Her chamber is aloft, far from the 
+ground, 
+And built so shelving that one cannot climb it 
+Without apparent hazard of his life. 
+Val. Why then, a ladder quaintly made of 
+cords, 
+To cast up, with a pair of anchoring hooks, 
+Would serve to scale another Hero’s tower, 
+So bold Leander would adventure it. 120 
+Duke. Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood, 
+Advise me where I may have such a Jadder. 
+Val. When would you use it? pray, sir, 
+tell me that. 
+This very night; for Love is like a 
+
+
+That longs for everything that he can come by. 
+Val. By seven o'clock I'll get you such a 
+ladder. 
+Duke. But, hark thee; I will go to her alone: 
+How shall I best convey the ladder thither > 
+Val. It will be light, my lord, that you 
+may bear it 
+Under a cloak that is of any length. 130 
+Duke. A cloak as long as thine will serve 
+the turn? ; 
+Val. Ay, my good lord. 
+Duke. Then let me see thy cloak: 
+
+
+1 ‘Il get me one of such another length. 
+
+
+Val. Why, any cloak will serve the turn, 
+my lord. 
+
+Duke. How shall I fashion me to wear a 
+cloak ? 
+
+
+I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me. 
+What letter is this same? What's here? “To 
+Silvia’! 
+And here an engine fit for my proceeding. 
+Ill be so bold to break the seal for once. 
+[ Reads. 
+*My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly. 
+And slaves they are to me that send them 
+flying: 14] 
+O, could their master come and go as lightly, 
+Himself would lodge where senseless they 
+are lying! 
+
+
+My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest 
+them; 
+
+While I, their king, that hither them impor- 
+tune, 
+
+
+Do curse the grace that with such grace hath 
+bless’d them, 
+Because myself do want my servants’ fortune: 
+I curse myself, for they are sent by me, 
+
+
+That they should harbour where their lord 
+would be.” / 
+What's here? 150 
+‘Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee.” 
+"Tis so; and here’s the ladder for the purpose. 
+Why, Phaethon,—for thou art Merops’ son,— 
+Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car 
+And with thy daring folly burn the world? 
+Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on 
+thee? 
+Go, base intruder! overweening slave! 
+Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates, 
+And think my patience, more than thy desert, 
+Is privilege for thy departure hence: 166 
+Thank me for this more than for all the favours 
+Which all too much I have bestow'd on thee. 
+But if thou linger in my territories 
+Longer than swiftest expedition 
+Will give thee time to leave our royal court, 
+By heaven! my wrath shall far exceed the love 
+I ever bore my daughter or thyself. 
+Be gone! I will not hear thy vain excuse; 
+But, as thou lovest thy life, make speed from 
+hence. [Exit. 
+Val. And why not death rather than living 
+torment? 170 
+To die is to be banish’d from myself; 
+And Silvia is myself: banish’d from her 
+Is self from self: a deadly banishment! 
+What light is light, if Silvia be not seen? 
+What joy is joy if Silvia be not by? 
+Unless it be to think that she is by 
+And feed upon the shadow of perfection. 
+Except I be by Silvia in the night, 
+There is no music in the nightingale; 
+Unless I look on Silvia in the day, 
+There is no day for me to look upon; 
+She is my essence, and I leave to be, 
+If I be not by her fair influence 
+Foster'd, illumined, cherish'd, kept alive. 
+I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom: 
+Tarry I here, I but attend on death: 
+But, fly I hence, I fly away from life. 
+
+
+180 
+
+
+Enter Proteus and LAUNCE. 
+
+
+Pro. Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out. 
+Launce. Soho, soho! 
+Pro. What seest thou? 190 
+
+
+Launce. Him we go to find: there’s not a 
+hair on ’s head but ‘tis a Valentine. 
+
+Pro. Valentine? 
+
+Val. No. 
+
+Pro. Who then? his spirit? 
+
+Val. Neither. 
+
+Pro. What then? 
+
+Val. Nothing. 
+
+
+Launce. Can nothing speak? Master, shali 
+I strike? 
+
+
+ot SIP ro. 
+
+
+_ Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire; 
+
+
+oc 
+
+
+Pro. Who wouldst thou strike ? 
+Launce. Nothing. 
+
+
+) Pro. Villain, forbear. 
+-Launce. Why, sir, I'll strike nothing: I 
+pray you,— 
+Pro. Sirrah, I say, forbear. Friend Val- 
+
+
+entine, a word, 
+Val. My ears are stopt and cannot hear 
+good news, 
+So much of bad already hath possess’d them. 
+Pro. Then in dumb silence will I bury mine, 
+_ For they are harsh, untuneable and bad. 
+Val. Is Silvia dead? : 
+Pro. No, Valentine. 210 
+Val. No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia. 
+Hath she forsworn me? 
+No, Valentine. 
+Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn 
+
+
+me. 
+What is your news? 
+Launce. Sir, there is a proclamation that 
+
+
+you are vanished, 
+Pro. That thou art banished—O, that’s 
+the news! — 
+From hence, from Silvia and from me thy 
+
+
+ak friend, 
+“Vail. +O, l have fed upon this woe already, 
+And now excess of it will make me surfeit, 
+
+
+Doth Silvia know that I am banished? 
+Pro. Ay, ay; and she hath offer’d to the 
+doom— 
+_ Which, unreversed, stands in effectual force— 
+A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears: 
+Those at her father’s churlish feet she tender’d; 
+With them, upon her knees, her humble self; 
+Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so be- 
+came them 
+As if but now they waxed pale for woe: 
+
+
+‘ _ But neither bended knees, pure hands held up, 
+_ Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding 
+
+
+tears, 
+
+231 
+But Valentine, if he be ta’en, must die. 
+
+_ Besides, her intercession chafed him so, 
+
+_ When she for thy repeal was suppliant, 
+
+
+_ That to close prison he commanded her, 
+_ With many bitter threats of biding there. 
+
+
+Val. 
+, thou speak’st 
+Haye some malignant power upon my life: 
+
+
+__ If so, i pray thee, breathe it in mine ear, 
+__ As ending anthem of my endless dolour. 240 
+
+
+Pro. Cease to lament for that thou canst 
+not help, 
+
+
+Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life. 
+
+
+Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that 
+
+
+I] THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA 
+
+
+No more; unless the next word that 
+
+
+4) 
+
+
+200 |! And manage it against despairing thoughts. 
+
+
+Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence; 
+Which, being writ to me, shall be deliver’d 
+Even in the milk-white bosom of thy love. 
+The time now serves not to expostulate: 
+Come, I'll convey thee through the city-gate; 
+And, ere | part with thee, confer at large 
+Of all that may concern thy love-affairs. 
+As thou lovest Silvia, though not for thyself, 
+Regard thy danger, and along with me! 
+Val. I pray thee, Launce, an if thou seest 
+my bo 
+Bid him make haste and meet me at the 
+North-gate. 
+Pro. Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, 
+Valentine. 259 
+Val. O my dear Silvia! Hapless Valentine! 
+[Exeunt Val. and Pro. 
+Launce. I am but a fool, look you; and 
+yet I have the wit to think my master is a kind 
+of a knave: but that's all one, if he be but 
+one knave. He lives not now that knows me 
+to be in love; yet I am in love; but a team of 
+horse shall not pluck that from me; nor who 
+‘tis I love; and yet ‘tis a woman; but what 
+woman, | will not tel] myself; and yet ‘tis a 
+milkmaid; yet ‘tis not a maid, for she hath 
+had gossips; yet “tis a maid, for she is her 
+master’s maid, and serves for wages. She hath 
+more qualities than a water-spaniel; which is 
+much in a bare Christian. [Pulling out a 
+paper.] Here is the catelog of her condition. 
+‘Imprimis: She can fetch and carry.” Why, a 
+horse can do no more: nay, a horse cannot 
+fetch, but only carry; therefore is she better 
+than a jade. ‘Item: She can milk;" look you 
+a sweet virtue in a maid with clean hands. 
+
+
+Enter SPEED. 
+
+
+Speed. How now, Signior Launce! what 
+news with your mastership ? 280 
+
+
+Launce. With my master’s ship? why, it is 
+at sea. 
+
+Speed. Well, your old vice still; mistake 
+the word. What news, then, in your paper? 
+
+Launce. The blackest news that ever thou 
+heardest. 
+
+Speed. Why, man, how black? 
+
+Launce. Why, as black as ink. 
+
+Speed. Let me read them. 
+
+Launce. ‘ie on thee, jolt-head! thou cans: 
+| not read. 291 
+
+
+Speed. Thou liest; I can. 
+Launce. { will try thee. Tell me this: whe 
+
+
+And study help for that which thou lament'st. | begot thee? 
+_ Time is the nurse and breeder of all good. 
+Here if thou stay, thou canst not see thy love; 
+
+
+Speed. Marry, the son of my grandfather. 
+
+Launce. O illiterate loiterer! it was the son 
+of thy grandmother: this proves that thou 
+canst not read. 
+
+
+42 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA 
+
+
+EI ee 
+
+
+Speed. Come, fool, come; try me in thy 
+paper. 
+
+Launce. There; and Saint Nicholas be thy 
+speed! 301 
+
+
+Speed. [Reads] ‘Imprimis: She can milk.’ 
+Launce. Ay, that she can. 
+Speed. ‘Item: She brews good ale.’ 
+
+
+Launce. And thereof comes the proverb: 
+‘Blessing of your heart, you brew good ale.’ 
+
+
+Speed. ‘Item: She can sew.’ 
+Launce, That's as much as to say, Can 
+she so? 
+
+
+Speed. ‘Item: She can knit.’ 310 
+
+Launce. What need a man care for a stock 
+with a wench, when she can knit him a stock ? 
+
+Speed. ‘Item: She can wash and scour.’ 
+
+Launce. A special virtue; for then she 
+need not be washed and scoured, 
+
+Speed. ‘Item: She can spin.’ 
+
+Launce. Then may | set the world on 
+wheels, when she can spin for her living. 
+
+Speed. ‘Item: She hath many nameless 
+virtues.” 320 
+
+Launce, That’s as much as to say, bastard 
+virtues; that, indeed, know not their fathers 
+and therefore have no names. 
+
+Speed. ‘Here follow her vices.’ 
+
+Launce. Close at the heels of her virtues. 
+
+Speed. ‘Item: She is not to be kissed fast- 
+ing, in respect of her breath.’ 
+
+Launce. Well, that fault may be mended 
+with a breakfast. Read on. 329 
+Speed. ‘Item: She hath a sweet mouth.” 
+
+Launce. That makes amends for her sour 
+breath. 
+
+Speed. ‘Item: She doth talk in her sleep.” 
+
+Launce. It’s no matter for that, so she 
+sleep not in her talk. 
+
+Speed. ‘Item: She is slow in words.’ 
+
+Launce. O villain, that set this down among 
+her vices! To be slow in words is a woman’s 
+only virtue: I pray thee, out with 't, and place 
+it for her chief virtue. 
+
+Speed. ‘Item: She is proud.’ 
+
+Launce. Out with that too; it was Eve's 
+legacy, and cannot be ta’en from her. 
+
+Speed, “Item: She hath no teeth.” 
+
+Launce. | care not for that neither, because 
+I love crusts. 
+
+
+Speed. ‘Item: She is curst.’ 
+
+Launce. Well, the best is, she hath no 
+teeth to bite. 
+
+Speed. ‘Item: She will often praise her 
+liquor.” 
+
+
+Launce. If her liquor be good, she shall: 
+if she will not, I will; for good things should 
+be praised, 
+
+Speed. ‘Item: She is too liberal.’ 
+
+Launce. Of her tongue she cannot, for 
+
+
+| 
+I 
+
+
+[Acr HI, Se. 1 
+
+
+that’s writ down she is slow of; of her purse 
+she shall not, for that I "Il keep shut: now, of 
+another thing she may, and that cannot I help, 
+Well, proceed. 360 
+
+Speed. ‘Item: She hath more hair than wit, 
+and more faults than hairs, and more wealth 
+than faults,’ 
+
+Launce. Stop there; I'll have her: she was 
+mine, and not mine, twice or thrice in that last 
+
+
+article. Rehearse that once more. 
+
+Speed. ‘Item: She hath more hair than 
+wit, — 
+
+Launce. More hair than wit? It may be: 
+
+
+I'll prove it. The cover of the salt hides the 
+salt, and therefore it is more than the salt; the 
+hair that covers the wit is more than the wit, 
+for the greater hides the less. What's next? 
+
+Speed. ‘And more faults than hairs. — 
+
+Launce, That’s monstrous: O, that that 
+were out! 
+
+Speed. ‘And more wealth than faults.’ 
+
+Launce. Why, that word makes the faults 
+gracious. Well, I ‘ll have her: and if it be a 
+match, as nothing is impossible,— 
+
+Speed. What then? 
+
+Launce. Why, then will I tell thee—that 
+thy master stays for thee at the North-gate. 
+
+Speed. For me? 
+
+Launce. For thee! ay, who art thou? he 
+hath stayed for a better man than thee. 
+
+Speed. And must I go to him? 
+
+Launce. Thou must run to him, for thou 
+hast stayed so long that going will scarce serve 
+the turn. 389 
+
+Speed. Why didst not tell me sooner? pox 
+of your love-letters! [Exit. 
+
+Launce. Now will he be swinged for read- 
+ing my letter; an unmannerly slave, that will 
+thrust himself into secrets! I'll after, to re- 
+joice in the boy’s correction. [Exit. 
+Scene Il. The same. The Duxe’s palace. 
+
+
+Enter DuxE and Tuurto. 
+Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not but that she 
+
+
+will love you, 
+Now Valentine is banish’d from her sight. 
+Thu. Since his exile she hath despised me 
+most, 
+Forsworn my company and rail’d at me, 
+That I am desperate of obtaining her. 
+Duke. This weak impress of love is-as a 
+figure 
+Trenched in ice, which with an hour’s heat 
+Dissolves to water and doth lose his form, 
+A little time will melt her frozen thoughts 
+
+
+And worthless Valentine shall be forgot. 10 
+
+
+Enter Proteus. 
+How now, Sir Proteus! Is your countryman 
+According to our proclamation gone? 
+
+
+380 | 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. 1] THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA 43 
+
+
+Pro. Gone, my good lord. 
+
+Duke. My daughter takes his going griev- 
+
+ously. 
+
+Pro. A little time, my lord, we will kill that 
+
+grief, 
+
+Duke. Soi believe; but Thurio thinks not so. 
+Proteus, the good conceit I hold of thee— 
+For thou hast shown some sign of good desert— 
+Makes me the better to confer with thee. 
+
+Pro. Longer than I prove loyal to your grace 
+Let me not live to look upon your grace. 21 
+
+“Duke. Thou know’st how willingly I would 
+
+effect - 
+The match between Sir Thurio and my 
+daughter. 
+
+Pro. 1 do, my lord. 
+
+Duke. And also, I think, thou art not ig- 
+
+norant 
+How she opposes her against my will. 
+
+Pro. She did, my lord, when Valentine 
+
+was here. 
+
+Duke. Ay, and perversely she persevers so. 
+What might we do to make the girl forget 
+The love of Valentine and love Sir Thurio? 30 
+
+Pro. The best way is to slander Valentine 
+With falsehood, cowardice and poor descent, 
+Three things that women highly hold in hate. 
+
+Duke, Ay, but she'll think that it is spoke 
+
+in hate. ‘ 
+
+Pro. Ay, if his enemy deliver it: 
+Therefore it must with circumstance be spoken 
+By one whom she esteemeth as his friend. 
+
+Duke. Then you must undertake to slander 
+
+
+him. 
+Pro. And that, my lord, I shall be loath 
+to do: 
+"Tis an ill office for a gentleman, 40 
+
+
+Especially against his very friend. 
+Duke. Where your good word cannot ad- 
+vantage him, 
+Your slander cannot endamage him; 
+Therefore the office is indifferent, 
+Being entreated to it by your friend. 
+Pro. You have prevail’d, my lord: if I 
+can do it 
+By aught that [ can speak in his dispraise, 
+She shall not long continue love to him. 
+But say this weed her love from Valentine, 
+It follows not that she will love Sir Thurio. 50 
+Thu. Therefore, as you unwind her love 
+from him, 
+{est it should ravel and be good to none, 
+You must provide to bottom it on me; 
+Which must be done by praising me as much 
+As you in worth dispraise Sir Valentine. 
+Duke. And, Proteus, we dare trust you in 
+this kind, 
+Because we know, on Valentine's report, 
+You are already Love's firm votary 
+
+
+And cannot soon revolt and change your mind. 
+Upon this warrant shall you have access 60 
+Where you with Silvia may confer at large; 
+For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy, 
+And, for your friend’s sake,will be glad of you; 
+Where you may temper her by your persuasion 
+To hate young Valentine and love my friend. 
+Pro. As much as I can do, I will effect: 
+But, you, Sir Thurio, are not sharp enough; 
+You must lay lime to tangle her desires 
+By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes 
+Should be full-fraught with serviceable vows. 
+Duke. Ay, 7\ 
+Much is the force of heaven-bred poesy. 
+Pro. Say that upon the altar of her beauty 
+You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart: 
+Write till your ink be dry, and with your tears 
+Moist it again, and frame some feeling line 
+That may discover such integrity: 
+For Orpheus’ lute was strung with poets’ sin- 
+ews, 
+Whose golden touch could soften steel and 
+stones, 
+Make tigers tame and huge leviathans 80 
+Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands, 
+After your dire-lamenting elegies, 
+Visit by night your lady’s chamber-window 
+With some sweet concert; to their instruments 
+Tune a deploring dump: the night's dead silence 
+Will well become such sweet-complaining 
+grievance. 
+This, or else nothing, will inherit her. 
+Duke. This discipline shows thou hast 
+been in love. 
+
+
+Thu. And thy advice this night I "ll put in 
+
+
+practice. 
+Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver, 
+Let us into the city presently 91 
+
+
+To sort some gentlemen well skill’d in music, 
+I have a sonnet that will serve the turn 
+To give the onset to thy good advice. 
+Duke. About it, gentlemen! 
+Pro. We'll wait upon your grace till after 
+supper, 
+And afterward determine our proceedings. 
+Duke. Even now about it! I will pardon 
+you. [Exeuni. 
+ACT IV. 
+Scene I. The frontiers of Mantua. A forest, 
+Enter certain Outlaws. 
+First Out. 
+passenger. 
+Sec. Out. If there be ten, shrink not, but 
+down with em. 
+Enter VALENTINE and SPEED. 
+Third Out. Stand, sir, and throw us that 
+you have about ye: 
+If not, we'll make you sit and rifle you. 
+
+
+Fellows, stand fast; I see a 
+
+
+44 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA 
+
+
+oi 
+[Acr IV, Sc. lt 
+
+
+ee ——_————————— 
+
+
+Speed. Sir, we are undone; these are the 
+
+
+villains 
+That all the travellers do fear so much. 
+Val. My friends,— 
+First Out. That's not so, sir: we are your 
+enemies. 
+
+
+Sec. Out. Peace! we'll hear him. 
+Third Out. Ay, by my beard, will we, for 
+
+
+he’s a proper man. 10 
+Val. Then know that | have little wealth 
+to lose: 
+
+
+A man | am cross'd with adversity ; 
+My riches are these poor habiliments, 
+Of which if you should here disfurnish me, 
+You take the sum and substance that I have. 
+Sec. Out. Whither travel you? 
+Val. To Verona. 
+First Out. Whence came you? 
+Val. From Milan. 
+Third Out, Have you long sojourned there ? 
+Val. Some sixteen months, and longer 
+might have stay’d, 
+If crooked fortune had not thwarted me. 
+First Out. What, were you banish’d thence? 
+
+
+Val. 1 was. 
+Sec. Out. For what offence? 
+Val. For that which now torments me to 
+
+
+rehearse: 
+I kill’d a man, whose death I much repent; 
+But yet I slew him manfully in fight, 
+Without false vantage or base treachery. 
+First Out. Why, ne'er repent it, if it were 
+done so. 30 
+
+
+But were you banish’d for so small a fault? 
+
+
+Val. 1 was, and held me glad of such a 
+doom. 
+Sec. Out. Have you the tongues? 
+
+
+Val. My youthful travel therein made me 
+happy, 
+
+Or else I often had been miserable. 
+
+Third Out. By the bare scalp of Robin 
+Hood’s fat friar. 
+
+This fellow were a king for our wild faction! 
+First Out. We'll have him. Sirs, a word. 
+Speed. Master, be one of them; it’s an 
+
+honourable kind of thievery. 40 
+Val. Peace, villain! 
+
+Sec. Out. Tell us this: have you any thing 
+to take to? 
+
+Val. Nothing but my fortune. 
+
+Third Out. Know, then, that some of us 
+are gentlemen, 
+
+Such as the fury of ungovern’d youth 
+
+Thrust from the company of awful men: 
+
+Myself was from Verona banished 
+
+For practising to steal away a lady, 
+
+An heir, and near allied unto the duke. 
+
+Sec. Out. And I from Mantua, for a 
+gentleman, 50 | 
+
+
+Who, in my mood, I stabb’d unto the heart. 
+
+First Out. And I for such like petty crimes 
+
+as these. 
+But to the purpose—for we cite our faults, 
+That they may hold excused our lawless lives; 
+And partly, seeing you are beautified 
+With goodly shape and by your own report 
+A linguist and a man of such perfection 
+As we do in our quality much want— 
+Sec. Out. Indeed, because you are a ban- 
+ish'd man, 
+Therefore, above the rest, we parley to you: 
+Are you content to be our general? 
+To make a virtue of necessity 
+And live, as we do, in this wilderness? 
+Third Out. What say’st thou? wilt thou be 
+of our consort? : 
+Say ay, and be captain of us all: 
+We'll do thee homage and be ruled by thee, 
+Love thee as our commander and our king. 
+
+First Out. But if thou scorn our courtesy, 
+
+thou diest. 
+
+Sec. Out. Thou shalt not live to brag what 
+
+we have offer’d. 
+
+Val, 1 take your offer and will live with you, 
+Provided that you do no outrages } 
+On silly women or poor passengers. 
+
+Third Out. No, we detest such vile base 
+
+practices. 
+Come, go with us, we ‘Il bring thee to our crews, 
+And show thee all the treasure we have got; 
+Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene Il. Milan. Outside the DUKE’s 
+palace, under Sitvia’s chamber. 
+
+
+Entér Proteus, 
+
+
+Pro. Already have | been false to Valentias, 
+And now I must be as unjust to Thurio. 
+Under the colour of commending him, 
+
+I have access my own love to prefer: 
+
+But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy, 
+
+To be corrupted with my worthless gifts. 
+
+When I protest true loyalty to her, 
+
+She twits me with my falsehood to my friend; 
+
+When to her beauty I commend my vows, 
+
+She bids me think how I have been forsworn 
+
+In breaking faith with Julia whom I loved: 
+
+And notwithstanding all her sudden quips, 
+
+The least whereof would quell a lover’s hope, 
+
+Yet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love, 
+
+The more it grows and fawneth on her still. 
+
+But here comes Thurio: now must we to her 
+window, 
+
+And give some evening music to her ear. 
+
+
+Enter TuHurio and Musicians. 
+
+
+Tha. How now, Sir Proteus, are you crept 
+before us? 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. Il] THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA 45 
+
+
+Pro. Ay, gentle Thurio: for you know 
+that love 
+Will creep in service where it cannot go. 20 
+Thu. Ay, but I hope, sir, that you love not 
+here. 
+Pro. Sir, but I do; or else I would be hence. 
+Thu. Who? Silvia? 
+
+
+Pro. Ay, Silvia; for your sake. 
+Thu. I thank you for your own. Now, 
+gentlemen, 
+
+
+Let’s tune, and to it lustily awhile. 
+
+
+Enter, at a distance, Host, and JuLia in 
+boy's clothes. 
+
+
+Host. Now, my young guest, methinks 
+you ’re allycholly: I pray you, why is it? 
+
+jul. Marry, mine host, because I cannot 
+be merry. 29 
+
+Host. Come, we'll have you merry: I'll 
+bring you where you shall hear music and see 
+the gentleman that you asked for. 
+
+ful. But shall T hear him speak? 
+
+Host. Ay, that you shall. 
+
+Jul. That will be music. 
+
+Host. Hark, hark! 
+
+Jul. Is he among these? 
+
+Host. Ay, but, peace! let’s hear ‘em. 
+
+
+[Music plays. 
+
+
+Sone. 
+Who is Silvia? what is she, 
+
+
+That all our swains commend her? 40 
+Holy, fair and wise is she; 
+
+
+The heaven such grace did lend her, 
+That she might admired be. 
+
+
+Is she kind as she is fair? 
+For heauty lives with kindness. 
+
+
+Love doth to her eyes repair, 
+To help him of his blindness, 
+And, being help’d, inhabits there. 
+
+
+Then to Silvia let us sing, 
+
+That Silvia is excelling; 50 
+She excels each mortal thing 
+
+Upon the dull earth dwelling: 
+To her let us garlands bring. 
+
+
+Host. How now! are you sadaer than you 
+were before? How do you, man? the music 
+likes you not. 
+
+Jul. You mistake; the musician likes me 
+not. 
+
+Host. Why, my pretty youth? 
+
+Jul. He plays false, father. 
+
+Host. How? out of tune on the strings? 60 
+
+‘Jul. Not so; but vet so false that he grieves 
+my very heart-strings. 
+
+Host. You have a quick ear. 
+
+Jul. Ay, I would I were deaf; it makes me 
+have a slow heart. 
+
+
+Host. 1 perceive you delight not in music. 
+~ Jul. Not a whit, when it jars so. 
+
+Host. Hark, what fine change is in the 
+music! 
+
+Jul. Ay, that change is the spite. 
+
+Host. You would have them always play 
+but one thing? 71 
+
+Jul. I would always have one play but one 
+
+thing. 
+
+But, host, doth this Sir Proteus that we talk on 
+Often resort unto this gentlewoman ? 
+
+Host. 1 tell you what Launce, his man, 
+told me: he loved her out of all nick. 
+
+Jul. Where is Launce? 
+
+Host. Gone to seek his dog; which to- 
+morrow, by his master’s command, he must 
+carry for a present to his lady. 80 
+
+
+Jul. Peace! stand aside: the company 
+parts. 
+
+Pro. Sir Thurio, fear not you: I will so 
+plead 
+
+
+That you shall say my cunning drift excels. 
+Thu. Where meet we? 
+Pro. At Saint Gregory’s well. 
+Thu. Farewell. 
+[Exeunt thu. and Musicians. 
+
+
+Enter Sitvia above. 
+
+
+Pro. Madam, good even to your ladyship. 
+Sil. I thank you for your music, gentlemen. 
+Who is that that spake? 
+Pro. One, lady, if you knew his pure 
+heart’s truth, 
+You would quickly learn to know him by his 
+
+
+voice. 
+Sil. Sir Proteus, as I take it. 50 
+Pro. Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your 
+servant, 
+Sil, What's your will? 
+Pro. That I may compass yours. 
+Sil. You have your wish; my will is even 
+this: 
+
+
+That presently you hie you home to bed. 
+Thou subtle, perjured, false, disloyal man! 
+Think’st thou I am so shallow, so conceitless, 
+To be seduced by thy flattery, 
+That hast deceived so many with thy vows? 
+Return, return and make thy love amends. 
+For me, by this pale queen of night I swear, 
+I am so far from granting thy request 101 
+That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit, 
+And by and by intend to chide myself 
+Even for this time I spend in talking to thee. 
+Pro. I grant, sweet love,.that I did love 
+a lady; 
+
+But she is dead. 
+Jul. [Aside] 
+speak it; 
+
+For I am sure she is not buried. 
+
+
+*Twere false, if I should 
+
+
+46 _ THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA 
+
+
+[Aci iV, Sc. Ih 
+
+
+Sil. Say that she be; yet Valentine thy 
+friend 
+Survives; to whom, thyself art witness, 110 
+I am bethroth’d: and art thou not ashamed 
+To wrong him with thy importunacy ? 
+
+Pro. I likewise hear that Valentine is dead. 
+
+Sil. And so suppose am 1; for in his grave 
+Assure thyself my love is buried. 
+
+Pro. Sweet lady, let me rake it from the 
+
+earth. 
+
+Sil. Go to thy lady’s grave and call hers 
+
+thence. 
+Or, at the least, in hers sepulchre thine, 
+
+Jul. [Aside] He heard not that. 
+
+Pro. Madam, if your heart be so obdurate, 
+-Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my 
+
+love, 121 
+The picture that is hanging in your chamber; 
+To that I "Il speak, to that I "Il sigh and weep; 
+For since the substance of your perfect self 
+Is else devoted, I am but a shadow; 
+
+And to your shadow will I make true love. 
+
+Jul. [Aside] If ‘twere a substance, you 
+
+would, sure, deceive it, 
+
+And make it but a shadow, as | am. 
+
+Sil. 1 am very loath to be your idol, sir; 
+But since your falsehood shall become you well 
+To worship shadows and adore false shapes, 
+Send to me in the morning and I'll send it: 
+And so, good rest. 
+
+Pro. As wretches have o’ernight 
+That wait for execution in the morn. 
+
+[Exeunt Pro. and Sil. severally, 
+
+Jul. Host, will you go? 
+
+Host. By my halidom, I was fast asleep. 
+
+Jul. Pray you, where lies Sir Proteus? 
+
+Host. Marry, at my house. Trust me, I 
+think "tis almost day. 
+
+Jul. Not so; but it hath been the longest 
+
+night 
+That e’er I watch’d and the most heaviest. 141 
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. The same. 
+
+
+Enter EGLamour. 
+Egl. This is the hour that Madam Silvia 
+
+
+Entreated me to call and know her mind: 
+
+There ’s some great matter she ld employ me 
+in, 
+
+Madam, madam! 
+
+
+Enter Siivia above. 
+
+
+Sil. Who calls? 
+Egl. Your servant and your friend; 
+One that attends your ladyship’s command. 
+Sil. Sir Eglamour, a thousand times good 
+morrow. 
+Egl. As many, worthy lady, to yourself: 
+According to your ladyship’s impose, 
+
+
+I am thus early come to know what service 
+It is your pleasure to commend me in. 10 
+
+Sil. O Eglamour, thou art a gentleman—. 
+Think not I flatter, for I swear I do not— 
+Valiant, wise, remorseful, well accomplish’d; 
+Thou art not ignorant what dear good will 
+I bear unto the banish’d Valentine 
+Nor how my father would enforce me marry 
+Vain Thurio, whom my very soul abhors. 
+Thyself hast.loved; and I have heard thee say 
+No grief did ever come so near thy heart 
+As when thy lady and thy true love died, 20 
+Upon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity, 
+Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine, 
+
+To Mantua, where | hear he makes abode; 
+
+And, for the ways are dangerous to pass, 
+
+I do desire thy worthy company, 
+
+Upon whose faith and honour I repose. 
+
+Urge not my father’s anger, Eglamour, 
+
+But think upon my grief, a lady's grief, 
+
+And on the justice of my flying hence, 
+
+To keep me from a most unholy match, 30 
+
+Which heaven and fortune still rewards with 
+plagues. 
+
+I do desire thee, even from a heart 
+
+As full of sorrows as the sea of sands, 
+
+To bear me company and go with me: 
+
+If not, to hide what I have said to thee, 
+
+That I may venture to depart alone. 
+
+Egl. Madam, | pity much your grievancess 
+Which since I know they virtuously are placed, 
+I give consent to go along with you, 
+
+Recking as little what betideth me 40 
+As much I wish all good befortune you. 
+When will you go? 
+
+
+Sil. This evening coming. 
+Egl. Where shall I meet you? 
+Sil. At Friar Patrick’s cell, 
+
+
+Where I intend holy confession. 
+Egl. 1 will not fail your ladyship. Good 
+morrow, gentle lady. 
+Sil. Good morrow, kind Sir Eglamour. 
+[Exeunt severally, 
+
+
+Scene IV. The same. 
+Enter Launce, with his Dog. 
+
+
+Launce. When a man’s servant shall play 
+the cur with him, look you, it goes hard: one 
+that I brought up of a puppy; one that J saved 
+from drowning, when three or four of his blind 
+brothers and sisters went to it. I have taught 
+him, even as one would say precisely, ‘thus I 
+would teach a dog.’ I was sent to deliver him 
+as a present to Mistress Silvia from my master; 
+and I came no sooner into the dining-chamber 
+but he steps me to her trencher and steals her 
+capon’s leg: O, ‘tis a foul thing when a cur 
+cannot keep himself in all companies! I would 
+have, as one should say, one that takes upon 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. iV] THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA 
+
+
+him to be a dog indeed, to be, as it were, a dog 
+at all things. If I had not had more wit than 
+he, to take a fault upon me that he did, I think 
+verily he had been hanged for ’t; sure as | live, 
+he had suffered for ’t; you shall judge. He 
+thrusts me himself into the company of three 
+or four gentlemanlike dogs, under the duke’s 
+table: he had not been there—bless the mark! 
+—a pissing while, but all the chamber smelt 
+him. “Out with the dog!’ says one: “What 
+cur is that?’ says another: ‘Whip him out’ says 
+the third: ‘Hang him up’ says the duke. I, 
+having been acquainted with the smell before 
+knew it was Crab, and goes me to the fellow 
+that whips the dogs: ‘Friend,’ quoth I, ‘you 
+mean to whip the dog>’ ‘Ay, marry, do I,’ 
+quoth he. “You do him the more wrong,’ 
+quoth I; ‘twas I did the thing you wot of.’ 
+He makes me no more ado, but whips me out 
+of the chamber. How many masters would de 
+this for his servant? Nay, I'll be sworn, I 
+have sat in the stocks for puddings he hath 
+stolen, otherwise he had been execvted; | have 
+stood on the pillory for geese he hath killed, 
+otherwise he had suffered for "t Thou thinkest 
+not of this now. Nay, I remember the trick 
+you served me when | took my leave of Madam 
+Silvia: did not I bid thee still mark me and do 
+as I do? when didst thou see me heave up my 
+leg and make water against a gentlewoman’s 
+farthingale? didst thou ever see me do such a 
+trick > 
+Enter Proteus and JuLia. 
+Pro. Sebastian is thy name? I like thee 
+well 
+
+And _ will employ thee in some service presently. 
+
+Jul. In what you please: I ‘Il do what I can. 
+
+Pro. 1 hope thou wilt. [To Launce] How 
+
+now, you whoreson peasant! 
+
+Where have you been these two days loitering? 
+
+Launce. Marry, sir, | carried Mistress Silvia 
+the dog you bade me. 50 
+
+Pro. And what says she to my little jewel ? 
+
+Launce. Marry, she says your dog was a 
+cur, and tells you currish thanks is good 
+enough for such a present. 
+
+Pro. But she received my dog? 
+
+Launce. No, indeed, did she not: here 
+have I brought him back again. 
+
+Pro. What, didst thou offer her this from 
+me? 
+
+Launce. Ay, sir; the other squirrel was 
+stolen from me by the hangman boys in the 
+market-place: and then I offered her mine 
+own, who is a dog as big as ten of yours, and 
+therefore the gift the greater. 
+
+Pro. Go get thee hence, and find my dog 
+
+again, 
+Or ne’er return again into my sight. 
+
+
+Ne. 
+
+
+47 
+
+
+Away, I say! stay’st thou to vex me here? 
+[Exit Launce. 
+Sebastian, I have entertained thee, 
+Partly that I have need of such a youth 
+That can with some discretion do my business, 
+For ‘tis no trusting to yond foolish lout, 71 
+But chiefly for thy face and thy behaviour, 
+Which, if my augury deceive me not, 
+Witness good bringing up, fortune and truth: 
+Therefore know thou, for this I entertain thee. 
+Go presently and take this ring with thee, 
+Deliver it to Madam Silvia: 
+She loved me well deliver'd it to me. 
+
+
+Jul. It seems you loved not her, to leave 
+her token. 
+She is dead, belike? 
+Pro. Not so; I think she fives. 
+Jul. Alas! él 
+
+
+Pro. Why dost thou cry ‘alas’ > 
+jul. I cannot choose 
+But pity her. 
+Pro. Wherefore shouldst thou pity her? 
+Jul. Because methinks that she loved you 
+as well 
+As you do love your lady Silvia: 
+She dreams on him that has forgot her love; 
+You dote on her that cares not for your love. 
+"Tis pity love should be so contrary; 
+And thinking on it makes me cry ‘alas!’ 
+
+
+Pro. Well, give her that ring and there- 
+
+withal 90 
+
+This letter. That's her chamber, Tell my 
+lady 
+
+
+I claim the promise for her heavenly picture. 
+Your message done, hie home unto my cham- 
+ber, 
+Where thou shalt find me, sad and solitary. 
+[Exit. 
+Jul. How many women would do such a 
+message ? 
+Alas, poor Proteus! thou hast entertain’d 
+A fox to be the shepherd of thy lambs. 
+Alas, poor fool! why do I pity him 
+That with his very heart despiseth me? 
+Because he loves her, he despiseth me; 
+Because I love him, I must pity him. 
+This ring | gave him when he parted from me, 
+To bind him to remember my good will; 
+And now am I, unhappy messenger, 
+To plead for that which I would not obtain, 
+To carry that which I would have refused, 
+To praise his faith which I would have dise 
+praised. 
+I am my master’s true-confirmed love; 
+But cannot be true servant to my master, 
+Unless I prove false traitor to myself. 
+Yet will I woo for him, but yet so coldly 
+As, heaven it knows, I would not have him 
+speed, 5 
+
+
+100 
+
+
+110 
+
+
+48 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA [Act IV, Sc. IV 
+
+
+Enter Sivvia, attended. 
+
+
+Gentlewoman, good day! I pray you, be my 
+mean 
+To bring me where to speak with Madam 
+Silvia. 
+Sil. What would you with her, if that I be 
+she? 
+Jul. If you be she, I do entreat your 
+patience 
+To hear me speak the message I am sent on. 
+Sil. From whom? 
+Jul. From my master, Sir Proteus, madam. 
+Sil. O, he sends you for a picture. 120 
+Jul. Ay, madam. 
+Sil. Ursula, bring my picture there. 
+Go give your master this: tell him from me, 
+One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget, 
+Would better fit his chamber than this shadow. 
+Jul. Madam, please you peruse this letter.— 
+Pardon me, madam; I| have unadvised 
+Deliver'd you a paper that I should not: 
+This is the letter to your ladyship. 
+Sil. I pray thee, let me look on that again. 
+Jul. It may not be; good madam, pardon 
+me. 131 
+Sil. There, hold! 
+I will not look upon your master’s lines: 
+I know they are stuff’d with protestations 
+And full of new-found oaths; which he will 
+break 
+As easily as I do tear his paper. 
+Jul. Madam, he sends your ladyship this 
+ring. 
+Sil. The more shame for him that he sends 
+it me; 
+For I have heard him say a thousand times 
+His Julia gave it him at his departure. 140 
+Though his false finger have profaned the ring, 
+Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong. 
+Jul. She thanks you. 
+Sil. What say’st thou? 
+Jul. J thank you, madam, that you tender 
+her. 
+Poor gentlewoman! my master wrongs her 
+much. 
+Sil. Dost thou know her? 
+Jul. Almost as well as i do know myself: 
+To think upon her woes I do protest 
+That I have wept a hundred several times. 150 
+Sil. Belike she thinks that Proteus hath 
+forsook her. 
+Jul. 1 think she doth; and that’s her cause 
+of sorrow. 
+Sil. Is she not passing fair? 
+Jul. She hath been fairer, madam, than 
+she is: 
+When she did think my master loved her well, 
+
+
+She, in my judgement, was as fair as vou; 
+
+
+But since she did neglect her looking-glass 
+And threw her sun-expelling mask away, 
+The air hath starved the roses in her cheeks 
+And pinch'd the lily-tincture of her face, 160 
+That now she is become as black as I. 
+
+Sil. How tall was she? 
+
+Jul. About my stature; for at Pentecost, 
+When all our pageants of delight were play’d, 
+Our youth got me to play the woman’s part, 
+And I was trimm’d in Madam Julia’s gown, 
+Which served me as fit, by all men’s judge- 
+
+ments, 
+As if the garment had been made for me: 
+Therefore I know she is about my height. 
+And at that time I made her weep agood, 170 
+For I did play a lamentable part: 
+Madan, ‘twas Ariadne passioning 
+For Theseus’ perjury and unjust flight; 
+Which I so lively acted with my tears 
+That my poor mistress, moved therewithal, 
+Wept bitterly; and would I might be dead 
+If I in thought felt not her very sorrow! 
+
+Sil. She is beholding to thee, gentle youth. 
+Alas, poor lady, desolate and left! 
+
+I weep myself to think upon thy words. 180 
+
+Here, youth, there is my purse; | give thee this 
+
+For thy sweet mistress’ sake, because thou 
+lovest her. 
+
+Farewell. [Exit Silvia, with attendants. 
+
+Jul. And she shall thank you for’t, if e’er 
+
+you know her. 
+A virtuous gentlewoman, mild and beautiful! 
+I hope my master’s suit will be but cold, 
+Since she respects my mistress’ love so much, 
+Alas, how love can trifle with itself! 
+Here is her picture; let me see; I think, 
+If I had such a tire, this face of mine 190 
+Were full as lovely as is this of hers: 
+And yet the painter flatter’d her a little, , 
+Unless I flatter with myself too much. 
+Her hair is auburn, mine 1s perfect yellow: 
+If that be all the difference in his love, 
+I "ll get me such a colour’d periwig. 
+Her eyes are grey as glass, and so are mine: 
+Ay, but her forehead 's low, and mine ’s as high, 
+What should it be that he respects in her 
+But I can make respective in myself, 200 
+If this fond love were not a blinded god? 
+Come, shadow, come, and take this shadow up, 
+For ‘tis thy rival. O thou senseless form, 
+Thou shalt be worshipp’d, kiss’d, loved and 
+adored! 
+And, were there sense in his idolatry, 
+My substance should be statue in thy stead. 
+I'll use thee kindly for thy mistress’ sake, 
+That used me so; or else, by Jove I vow, 
+I should have scratch’d out your unseeing eyes, 
+To make my master out of love with thee! 
+
+
+[Exit 
+
+
+. C's, i Ail al ts _ 3 
+Regen 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+Pikmin tatele 
+ACTS Sc: 1] 
+
+
+% ACT V. 
+| ) Scene I. Milan. An abbey. 
+Enter EGLAMour. 
+
+
+Egl. The sun begins to gild the western sky ; 
+And now it is about the very hour 
+That Silvia, at Friar Patrick's cell, should 
+meet me. 
+_ She will not fail, for lovers break not hours, 
+Unless it be to come before their time; 
+_. So much they spur their expedition. 
+See where she comes. 
+Enter Sirvia. 4 
+Lady, a happy evening! 
+Sil. Amen, amen! Go on, good Eglamour, 
+Out at the postern by the abbey-wall: 
+I fear I am attended by some spies. 10 
+Egl. Fear not: the forest is \not three 
+leagues off ; 
+If'we recover that, we are sure enough. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene Il. The same. The Duke's palace. 
+Enter TuHurio, Proteus, and Juuia. 
+Thu. Sir Proteus, what says Silvia to my 
+
+suit? 
+Pro. O, sir, I find her milder than she was; 
+
+And yet she takes exceptions at your person. 
+Thu, What, that my leg is too long? 
+Pro. No; that it is too little. 
+
+Thu. I'll wear a boot, to make it somewhat 
+rounder. 
+
+Jul. [Aside] But love will not be spurr’d 
+to what it loathes. 
+
+Thu. What says she to my face? 
+
+Pro. She says it is a fair one. 
+
+Thu. Nay then, the wanton lies; my face 
+is black. 0 
+
+Pro. But pearls are fair; and the old say- 
+ing is, 
+
+Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies’ eyes. 
+Jul. [Aside]’Tis true; such pearls as put 
+
+_ out ladies’ eyes; 
+For I had rather wink than look on them. 
+How likes she my discourse > 
+
+
+Prox Ill, when you talk of war. 
+Thu. But well, when I discourse of love 
+and peace? 
+
+
+Jul. [Aside] But better, indeed, when you 
+hold your peace. 
+
+Thu. What says she to my valor? 
+
+Pro. O, sir, she makes no doubt of that. 20 
+
+Jul. [Aside] She needs not, when she 
+knows it cowardice. 
+
+Thu. What says she to my birth? 
+
+‘Pro. That you are well derived. 
+
+Jul. [Aside] True; from a gentleman to a 
+
+
+fool. J 
+Thu. Considers she my possessions ? 
+Pro. O, ay; and pities them. 
+
+
+THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA 
+
+
+49 
+Thu. Wherefore? 
+jul. [Aside] That such an ass should 
+owe them. 
+Pro. That they are out by lease, 
+Jul. Here comes the duke. 30 
+
+
+Enter DuKeE. 
+
+
+Duke. How now, Sir Proteus! how now, 
+Thurio! 
+Which of you saw Sir Eglamour of late? 
+Thu. Not I. 
+“Pro. Nor I. 
+Duke Saw you my daughter? 
+Pro Neither. 
+
+
+Duke. Why then, 
+She's fled unto that peasant Valentine; 
+And Eglamour is in her company. 
+‘Tis true; for Friar Laurence met them both, 
+As he in penance wander’d through the forest; 
+Him he knew well, and guess’d that it was she, 
+But, being mask’d, he was not sure of it; 40 
+Besides, she did intend confession 
+At Patrick's cell this even; and there she was 
+not; 
+These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence. 
+Therefore, I pray you, stand not to discourse, 
+But mount you presently and meet with me 
+Upon the rising of the mountain-foot 
+That leads toward Mantua, whither they are 
+fled: 
+Dispatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me. 
+[Exit. 
+Thu. Why, this it is to be a peevish girl, 
+jubat flies her fortune when it follows her. 50 
+I'll after, more to be revenged on Eglamour 
+Than for the love of reckless Silvia. (Exit. 
+
+
+Pro. And I will follow, more for Silvia’s 
+love 
+Than hate of Eglamour that goes with her. 
+[ Exit. 
+Jul. And I will follow, more to cross that 
+love 
+Than hate for Silvia that is gone for love. 
+[Exit. 
+Scene III. The frontiers of Mantua. 
+
+
+The forest. 
+Enter OutLaws with Sirvia. 
+First Out. Come, come, 
+Be patient; we must bring you to our captain. 
+Sil. A thousand more mischances than this 
+one 
+Have learn’d me how to brook this patiently. 
+Sec. Out. Come, bring her away. 
+First Out. Where is the gentleman that was 
+with her ? 
+Third Out. 
+outrun us, 
+But Moyses and Valerius follow him. 
+Go thou with her to the west end of the wood; 
+
+
+Being nimble-footed, he hath 
+
+
+50 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. IV 
+
+
+There is our captain: we ‘Il follow him that's 
+fled; 
+The thicket is beset; he cannot ‘scape. 
+First Out, Come, | must bring you to our 
+captain’s cave: 
+Fear not; he bears an honourable mind, 
+And will not use a woman lawlessly. 
+Sil. O Valentine, this I endure for thee! 
+{Exeunt. 
+
+
+Another part of the forest. 
+Enter VALENTINE. 
+
+
+Val. How use doth breed a habit in a man! 
+This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods, 
+I better brook than flourishing peopled towns: 
+Here can I sit alone, unseen of any, 
+And to the nightingale’s complaining notes 
+Tune my distresses and record my woes. 
+O thou that dost inhabit in my breast, 
+Leave not the mansion so long tenantless, 
+Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall 
+And leave no memory of what it was! 10 
+Repair me with thy presence, Silvia; 
+Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain! 
+What halloing and what stir is this to-day? 
+These are my mates, that make their wills 
+
+their law, 
+Have some unhappy passenger in chase. 
+They love me well; yet I have much to do 
+To keep them from uncivil outrages. 
+Withdraw thee, Valentine; who’s this comes 
+here > 
+
+
+Enter Proteus, Strvia, and Juia. 
+
+
+Pro. Madam, this service I have done for 
+you, 
+
+Though you respect not aught your servant 
+
+doth, 
+
+To hazard life and rescue you from him 
+
+That would have forced your honour and 
+
+your love; 
+
+Vouchsafe me, for my meed, but one fair look; 
+
+A smaller boon than this I cannot beg 
+
+And less than this, I am sure, you cannot give. 
+Val. [Aside] How like a dream is this I 
+
+see and hear! 
+
+Love, lend me patience to forbear awhile. 
+Sil. O miserable, unhappy that I am! 
+Pro. Unhappy were you, madam, ere I 
+
+came; 
+But by my coming I have made you happy. 30 
+Sil. By thy approach thou makest me most 
+unhappy. 
+
+Jul. [Aside] And me, when he approacheth 
+to your presence, 
+
+Sil. Had { been seized by a hungry lion, 
+
+I would have been a breakfast to the beast, 
+
+Rather than hav> false Proteus rescue me. 
+
+O, Hearen be judge how I love Valentine, 
+
+Whose life ’s as tender to me as my soul! 
+
+
+Scene IV. 
+
+
+And full as much, for more there cannot be, 
+I do detest false perjured Proteus. 
+
+
+Therefore be gone; solicit me no more. 40 
+Pro. What dangerous action, stood it next 
+to death, 
+
+
+Would I not undergo for:one calm look! 
+
+O, ‘tis thé curse in love, and still approved, 
+
+When women cannot love where they’re be- 
+loved! ¢ 
+
+Sil. When Proteus cannot love where he’s 
+
+beloved. 
+
+Read over Julia’s heart, thy first best love, 
+
+For whose dear sake thou didst then rend thy 
+faith 
+
+Into a thousand oaths; and all those oaths 
+
+Descended into perjury, to love me. 
+
+Thou hast no faith left now, unless thou ‘dst 
+two; 50 
+
+And that’s far worse than none; better have 
+none 
+
+Than plural faith which is too much by one: 
+
+Thou counterfeit to thy true friend! 
+
+
+Pro. In love 
+Who respects friend ? 
+
+mals All men but Proteus. 
+
+Pro. Nay, if the gentle spirit of moving 
+
+
+words 
+Can no way change you to a milder form, 
+I'll woo you like a soldier, at arms’ end, 
+And love you ‘gainst the nature of love,— 
+force ye. 
+Sil, O heaven! 
+Pro. I'll force thee yield to my desire. 
+Val. Rufhan, jet go that rude uncivil touch, 
+Thou friend of an ill fashion! 
+
+
+Pro. 2 Valentine! 61 
+Val. Thou common friend, that’s without ~ 
+
+
+faith or love, 
+For such is a friend now; treacherous man! 
+Thou hast beguiled my hopes; nought but 
+mine eye 
+Could have persuaded me: now I dare not say 
+I have one friend alive; thou wouldst disprove 
+
+
+me. 
+Who should be trusted, when one’s own right 
+hand 
+Is perjured to the bosom? Proteus, 
+I am sorry J must never trust thee more, 
+But count the world a stranger for thy sake. 
+The private wound is deepest: O time most 
+accurst, 
+"Mongst all foes that a friend should be the 
+worst! 
+Pro. My shame and guilt confounds me. 
+Forgive me, Valentine: if hearty sorrow 
+Be a sufficient ransom for offence, 
+I tender 't here; I do as truly suffer. 
+As e’er I did commit. 
+Val. Then I am paid; 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. IV] 
+
+
+And once again I do receive thee honest. 
+Who by repentance ‘is not satisfied 
+~ Is nor of heaven nor earth, for these are pleased. 
+By penitence the Eternal’s wrath’s appeased: 
+And, that my love may appear plain and free, 
+All that was mine in Silvia I give thee. 
+
+Jul. O me unhappy! [Swoons. 
+
+Pro. Look to the boy. 
+
+Val. Why, why! why, wag! how now! 
+what ’s the matter? Look up; speak. 
+
+Jul. O good sir, my master charged me to 
+deliver a ring to Madam Silvia, which, out of 
+my neglect, was never done. -90 
+
+
+Pro. Where is that ring, boy? 
+Jul. Here tis; this is it, 
+Pro. How! let me see: 
+
+
+Why, this is the ring I gave to Julia. 
+
+Jul. O, cry you mercy, sir, I have mistook: 
+This is the ring you sent to Silvia. 
+
+Pro. But how camest thou by this ring? 
+
+At my depart 
+
+I gave this unto Julia. 
+
+Jul. And Julia herself did give it me; 
+And Julia herself hath brought it hither. 
+
+
+Pro. How! Julia! 100 
+Jul. Behold her that gave aim to all thy 
+oaths, 
+
+
+And entertain’d ’em deeply in her heart. 
+How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root! 
+O Proteus, let this habit make thee blush! 
+
+Be thou ashamed that I have took upon me 
+Such an immodest raiment, if shame live 
+
+In a disguise of love: 
+
+It is the lesser blot, modesty finds, 
+
+Women to change their shapes than men their 
+
+
+minds. 
+Pro. Than men their minds! ‘tis true. O 
+heaven! were man 110 
+
+
+But constant, he were perfect. That one error 
+Fills him with faults; makes him run through 
+all the sins: 
+Inconstancy falls off ere it begins. 
+What is in Silvia’s face, but I may spy 
+More fresh in Julia’s with a constant eye? 
+Val. Come, come, a hand from either: 
+Let me be blest to make this happy close; 
+"Twere pity two such friends should be long 
+foes. 
+Pro. Bear witness, Heaven, I have my 
+wish for ever, 
+120 
+
+
+ful, And I mine. 
+Eater Outlaws, with DUKE and THurio. 
+
+
+Outlaws. A prize, a prize, a prize! 
+Val, Forbear, forbear, I say! it is my lord 
+the duke. 
+Your grace is welcome to a man disgraced, 
+Banished Valentine. 
+Duke. Sir Valentine! 
+
+
+THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA 
+
+
+5) 
+
+
+Thu. Yonder is Silvia; and Silvia’s mine. 
+Val. Thurio, give back, or else embrace 
+thy death; 
+Come not within the measure of my wrath; 
+Do not name Silvia thine; if once again, 
+7 Verona shall not hold thee. Here she stands: 
+Take but possession of her with a touch: 130 
+I dare thee but to breathe upon my love. 
+Thu. Sir Valentine, 1 care not for her, I: 
+I hold him but a fool that will endanger 
+His body for a girl that loves him not: 
+I claim her not, and therefore she is thine, 
+Duke. The more degenerate and base art 
+thou, 
+To make such means for her as thou hast done 
+And leave her on such slight conditions. 
+Now, by the honour of my ancestry, 
+I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine, 140 
+And think thee worthy of an empress’ love: 
+Know then, I here forget all former griefs, 
+Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again, 
+Plead a new state in thy unrival’d merit, 
+To which I thus subscribe: Sir Valentine, 
+Thou art a gentleman and well derived; 
+Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserved her. 
+Val. I thank your grace; the gift hath 
+made me happy. 
+I now beseech you, for your daughter's sake, 
+To grant one boon that I shall ask of you. 150 
+
+
+Duke. I grant it, for thine own, whate’er 
+it be. 
+
+Val. These banish’d men that I have kept 
+withal 
+
+
+Are men endued with worthy qualities: 
+Forgive them what they have committed here 
+And let them be recall’d from their exile: 
+They are reformed, civil, full of good 
+And fit for great employment, worthy lord. 
+Duke. Thou hast prevail’d; I pardon them 
+and thee; 
+Dispose of them as thou know’st their deserts. 
+Come, let us go: we will include all jars 160 
+With triumphs, mirth and rare solemnity, 
+Val. And, as we walk along, i dare be bold 
+With our discourse to make your grace to smile, 
+What think you of this page, my lord? 
+Duke. 1 think the boy hath grace in him; 
+he blushes. 
+Val. I warrant you, my lord, more grace 
+than boy. 
+Duke. What mean you by that saying? 
+Val. Please you, I'll tell you as we pase 
+along, 
+That you will wonder what hath fortuned. 
+Come, Proteus; ’tis your penance but to hear 
+The story of your loves discovered: 
+That done, our day of marriage shall be yours; 
+One feast, one house, one mutual happiness. 
+[Exeunt, 
+
+
+THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSON. 
+
+
+Sik JOHN Fatstarr. 
+FENTON, a gentleman. 
+SHALLOW, a country justice. 
+SLENDER, cousin to Shallow. 
+Forp, 
+Pace, 
+Wiiuiam Pace, a boy, a son to Page. 
+Sir HucH Evans, a Welsh parson. 
+Doctor Caius, a French physician. 
+Host of the Garter Inn. 
+
+
+t two gentlemen dwelling at Windsor. 
+
+
+BarDOLPH, ) 
+PisToL, sharpers attending on Falstaff. 
+Ny, 
+ACT I. 
+Scene I. Windsor. Before Pace’s house. 
+
+
+Enter )usticE SHALLow, SLENDER, and SIR 
+HucuH Evans. 
+
+
+Shal. Sir Hugh, persuade me not; I will 
+make a Star-chamber matter of it: if he 
+were twenty Sir John Falstaffs, he shall not 
+abuse Robert Shallow, esquire. 
+
+Slen. In the county of Gloucester, justice 
+of peace and ‘Coram.’ 
+
+Shal. Ay, cousin Slender, and 'Custalorum.” 
+
+Slen. Ay, and ‘Rato-lorum’ too; and a 
+gentleman born, master parson; who writes 
+himself ‘Armigero,’ in any bill, warrant, quit- 
+tance, or obligation, ‘Armigero.’ 
+
+Shal. Ay, that I do; and have done any 
+time these three hundred years. 
+
+Slen. All his successors gone before him 
+hath don’t; and all his ancestors that come 
+after him may: they may give the dozen 
+white luces in their coat. 
+
+Shal. It is an old coat. 
+
+Evans. The dozen white louses do become 
+an old coat well; it agrees well, passant; it 
+is a familiar beast to man, and signifies love. 
+
+Shal. The luce is the fresh fish; the salt 
+fish is an old coat. 
+
+Slen. J may quarter, coz. 
+
+Shal. You may, by marrying. 
+
+Evans, It is marring indeed, if he quarter it. 
+
+Shal. Not a whit. 
+
+Evans. Yes, py’r lady; if he has a quar- 
+ter of your coat, there is but three skirts for 
+yourself, in my simple conjectures: but that 
+is all one. If Sir John Falstaff have com- 
+mitted disparagements unto you, I am of the 
+
+
+Rosin, page to Falstaff. 
+SIMPLE, servant to Slender. 
+Ruasy, servant to Doctor Caius, 
+
+
+Mistress Forp. 
+
+Mistress Pace. 
+
+ANNE Pace, her daughter. 
+
+MistRESs QUICKLY, servant to Doctor Caius, 
+
+
+Servants to Page, Ferd, &c. 
+
+
+ScENE: Windsor, and the neighbourhood. 
+
+
+church and will be glad to do my benevyo- 
+lence to make, atonements and compremises 
+between you. 
+
+Shal. The council shall hear it ; it is a riot. 
+
+Evans. It is not meet the council hear a 
+riot; there is no fear of Got in a riot: the 
+council, look you, shall desire to hear the fear 
+of Got, and not to hear a riot; take your 
+vizaments in that. 
+
+Shal. Ha! 0’ my life, if I were young 
+again, the sword should end it. 
+
+Evans. It is petter that friends is the 
+sword, and end it: and there is also another 
+device in my prain, which peradventure prings 
+goot discretions with it: there is Anne Page, 
+which is daughter to Master Thomas Page, 
+which is pretty virginity. 
+
+Slen. Mistress Anne Page? She has 
+brown hair, and speaks small like a woman. 
+
+Evans, It is that fery person for all the 
+orld, as just as you will desire; and seven 
+hundred pounds of moneys, and gold and sil- 
+ver, is her grandsire upon his death’s-bed— 
+Got deliver to a joyful resurrections!—give, 
+
+
+when she is able to overtake seventeen years — 
+
+
+old: it were a goot motion if we leave our 
+pribbles and prabbles, and desire a marriage 
+between Master Abraham and Mistress Anne 
+Page. 
+
+Slen. Did her grandsire leave her seven 
+hundred pound? 
+
+Evans. Ay, and her father is make her a 
+petter penny. 
+
+Slen. I know the young gentlewoman; she 
+has good gifts, 
+
+Evans. Seven hundred pounds and possi- 
+bilities is goot gifts. 
+
+
+52 
+
+
+: , ee oe 
+
+
+Act I, Se. q 
+
+
+Shal. Well, let us see honest Master Page. 
+Is Falstaff there? 
+Evans. Shall I tell you a lie? I do de- 
+_ -spise a liar as I do depise one that is false, 
+or as I despise one that is not true. The 
+knight, Sir John, is there; and, I beseech you, 
+be ruled by your well-willers. I will peat 
+the door for Master Page. [Knocks] What, 
+hoa! Got pless your house here! 
+Page. [Within] Who's there! 
+. 
+
+
+Enter Pace. 
+
+
+| Evans. Here is Got’s plessing, and your 
+friend, and Justice Shailow; and here young 
+Master Slender, that peradventures shall tell 
+
+
+you another tale, if matters grow to your 
+likings. 
+Page. I am glad to see your worships well. 
+
+
+_ I thank you for my venison, Master Shallow. 
+Shal. Master Page, I am glad to see you: 
+much good do it your good heart! I wished 
+your venison better; it was ill killed. How 
+_~ doth good Mistress Page >?—and I thank you 
+always with my heart, la! with my heart. 
+Page. Sir, I thank you. 
+Shal. Sir, I.thank you; by yea and no, I do. 
+Page. 1! am glad to see you, good Master 
+Slender. 90 
+Slen. How does your fallow greyhound, sir? 
+1 heard say he was outrun on Cotsall. 
+Page. It could not be judged, sir. 
+Slen. You'll not confess, you'll not confess. 
+Shal. That he will not. "Tis your fault, ‘tis 
+your fault; ‘tis a good dog. 
+. Page. A cur, sir. 
+____— Shal. Sir, he’s a good dog, and a fair dog: 
+can there be more said? he is good and fair. Is 
+Sir John Falstaff here? 100 
+Page. Sir, he is within; and I would I 
+could do a good office between you. 
+; Evans. It is spoke as a Christians ought to 
+speak. 
+Shal. He hath wronged me, Master Page. 
+Page. Sir, he doth in some sort confess it. 
+3 Shal. If it be confessed, it is not redressed: 
+_ is not that so, Master Page>? He hath wronged 
+me; indeed he hath; at a word, he hath, 
+believe me: Robert Shallow, esquire, saith, he 
+is wronged. 110 
+_ Page. Here comes Sir John. 
+
+
+“ 
+
+
+FatstaFr, BARDOLPH, Nym 
+
+
+Enter Sir Joun 
+a and PIsTOL. 
+
+
+Fal. Now, Master Shallow, you ‘Il complain 
+vf me to the king? 
+
+_ Shal. Knight, you have beaten my men, 
+killed my deer, and broke open my lodge. 
+
+_ Fal. But not kissed your keeper’s daughter ? 
+
+
+THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 
+
+
+Shal. Tut, a pin! this shall be answered. | 
+
+
+“ee 
+
+
+oe 
+
+
+53 
+
+
+Fal. 1 will answer it straight, I have done 
+all this. 
+That is now answered. 
+
+Shal. The council shall know this. 126 
+
+Fal. "Twere better for you if it were knowm 
+in counsel: you ‘Il be laughed at. 
+
+Evans. Pauca verba, Sir John; goot worts. 
+
+Fal. Good worts! good cabbage. Slender, 
+I broke your head: what matter have you 
+against me? 
+
+Sten. Marry, sir, | have matter in my head 
+against you; and against your cony-catching 
+rascals, Bardolph, Nym, and Pistol. 
+
+Bard. You Banbury cheese! 130 
+
+Slen. Ay, it is no matter. 
+
+Pist. How now, Mephostophilus! 
+
+Slen. Ay, it is no matter. 
+
+Nym. Slice, I say! pauca, pauca: slice! 
+that’s my humour. 
+
+Slen. Where's Simple, my man? Can you 
+tell, cousin > 
+
+Evans. Peace, I pray you. Now let us un- 
+derstand. There is three umpires in this mat- 
+ter, as I understand; that is, Master Page, 
+fidelicet Master Page; and there is myself, 
+fidelicet myself; and the three party is, lastly 
+and finally, mine host of the Garter. 
+
+
+Page. We three, to hear it and end it be- 
+tween them. 
+Evans. Fery goot: I will make a prief of 
+
+
+it in my note-book; and we will afterwards 
+ork upon the cause with as great discreetly as 
+
+
+we can. 
+
+Fal. Pistol! 
+
+Pisi. He hears with ears. 150 
+
+Evans. The tevil and his tam! what phrase 
+in this, ‘He hears with ear’? why, it is affecta- 
+tions. 
+
+Fai. Pistol, did you pick Master Slender’s 
+purse? 
+
+Slen. Ay, by these gloves, did he, or I 
+would I might never come in mine own great 
+chamber again else, of seven groats in mill-six- 
+pences, and two Edward shovel-boards, that 
+cost me two shilling and two pence a-piece of 
+Yead Miller, by these gloves. 161 
+
+Fal, Is this true, Pistol? 
+
+Evans. No; it is false, if it is a pick-purse 
+
+Pist. Ha, thou mountain-foreigner! Sir 
+
+John and master mine. 
+
+I combat challenge of this latten bilbo. 
+
+Word of denial in thy labras here! 
+
+Word of denial; froth and scum, thou liest! 
+Slen. By these gloves, then, ‘twas he. 
+Nym. Be avised, sir, and pass good hu- 
+
+mours: I will say ‘marry trap" with you, if you 
+
+run the nuthook’s humour on me; that is the 
+very note of it. 
+
+
+Slen. By this hat, then, he in the red face 
+
+
+54 
+
+
+had it; for though I cannot remember what I 
+did when you made me drunk, yet I am not 
+altogether an ass. 
+
+Fal. What say you, Scarlet and John? 
+
+Bard. Why, sir, for my part, I say the 
+gentleman had drunk himself out of his five 
+sentences, 180 
+
+Evans. It is his five senses: fie, what the 
+ignorance is! 
+
+Bard. And being fap, sir, was, as they 
+say, cashiered; and so conclusions passed the 
+careires, 
+
+Slen, Ay, you spake in Latin then too; but 
+‘tis no matter: I'll ne'er be drunk whilst I live 
+again, but in honest, civil, godly company, for 
+this trick: if I be drunk, I'll be drunk with 
+those that have the fear of God, and not with 
+drunken knaves. 190 
+
+Evans. So Got udge me, that is a virtuous 
+mind, 
+
+Fal. You hear all these matters denied, 
+gentlemen; you hear it. 
+
+Enter ANNE Pace, with wine; MISTRESS 
+Forp and Mistress Pace, following. 
+Page. Nay, daughter, carry the wine in; 
+we ‘Il drink within. [Exit Anne Page. 
+
+Slen. O heaven! this is Mistress Anne Page. 
+
+Page. How now, Mistress Ford! 
+
+Fal. Mistress Ford, by my troth, you are 
+very well met: by your leave, good mistress. 
+
+[Kisses her. 
+
+Page. Wife, bid these gentlemen welcome: 
+Come, we have a hot venison pasty to dinner: 
+come, gentlemen, I hope we shall drink down 
+all unkindness. 
+
+[Exeunt all except Shal., Slen., and Evans. 
+
+Slen. I had rather than forty shillings I had 
+my Book of Songs and Sonnets here. 
+
+
+Enter Simpte. 
+
+
+How now, Simple! where have you been? | 
+must wait on myself, must 1? You have not 
+the Book of Riddles about you, have you?209 
+
+Sim. Book of Riddles! why, did you not 
+lend it to Alice Shortcake upon All-hallow- 
+mas last, a fortnight afore Michaelmas > 
+
+Shal. Come, coz; come, coz; we stay for 
+you. A word with you, coz; marry, this, coz: 
+there is, as ‘twere, a tender, a kind of tender, 
+made afar off by Sir Hugh here. Do you un- 
+derstand me? 
+
+Slen. Ay, sir, you shall find me reasonable; 
+if it be so, I shall do that is reason, 
+Shal. Nay, but understand me. 
+
+Slen. So I do, sir. 
+
+Evans. Give ear to his motions. Master 
+Slender: I will description the matter to you, 
+if you be capacity of it, 
+
+Slen. Nay, J will do as my cousin Shallow 
+
+
+220 
+
+
+THE. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. I 
+
+
+——— 
+
+
+says: I pray you, pardon me; he’s a justice of 
+Peace in his country, simple though I stand 
+here. 
+
+Evans. But that is not the question: the 
+question is concerning your Marriage, 
+
+Shal. Ay, there's the point, sir, 
+
+Evans. Marry, is it; the very point of it; 
+to Mistress Anne Page. 231 
+
+Slen. Why, if it be so, I will marry her 
+upon any reasonable demands, 
+
+Evans. But can you affection the “oman ? 
+Let us command to know that of your mouth 
+or of your lips; for divers philosophers hold 
+that the lips is parcel of the mouth. Therefore, 
+Precisely, can you carry your good will to the 
+maid > 
+
+Shal., 
+
+
+love her? 
+
+
+Cousin Abraham Slender, can you 
+
+
+240 
+
+
+a. 
+
+
+Slen. I hope, sir, I will do as it shall be- : 
+
+
+come one that would do reason. 
+
+Evans, Nay, Got's lords and his ladies! 
+you must speak possitable, if you can carry her 
+your desires towards her. 
+
+Shal. That you must. Will you, upon good 
+dowry, marry her? 
+
+Slen. I will do a greater thing than that, 
+upon your request, cousin, in any reason, 
+
+Shal. Nay, conceive me, conceive me, 
+sweet coz: what I do is to pleasure you, coz. 
+Can you love the maid? 
+
+Slen. I will marry her, sir, at your request: 
+but if there be no great love in the beginning, 
+yet heaven may decrease it upon better ac- 
+quaintance, when we are married and have 
+more occasion to know one another; | hope, 
+upon familiarity will grow more contempt: but 
+
+
+if you say, ‘Marry her,’ I will marry her; that 
+
+
+I am freely dissolved, and dissolutely. 260 
+Evans. It is a fery discretion answer; save 
+the fall is in the ort ‘dissolutely:’ the ort is, 
+according to our meaning, ‘resolutely:’ his 
+meaning is good. 
+Shal. Ay, I think my cousin meant well. 
+Slen. _ Ay, or else I would I might be 
+hanged, la! 
+Shal. Here comes fair Mistress Anne, 
+Re-enter ANNE Pace, 
+Would I were young for your sake, Mistress 
+Anne! 
+Anne. The dinner is on the table; my father 
+esires your worships’ company. 271 
+Shal. I will wait on him, fair Mistress Anne. 
+Evans. Od’s plessed will! I will not be ab- 
+sence at the grace, 
+[Exeunt Shallow and Evans, 
+Anne. Will't 
+
+
+please your worship to come 
+m, sir? 
+
+
+Slen. No, I thank you, 
+
+
+am very well, 
+
+
+forsooth, heartily; I 
+
+
+Anne. The dinner attends you, sir. 279 
+Slen. 1 am not a-hungry, I thank you, for- 
+sooth. Go, sirrah, for all you are my man, go 
+wai upon my cousin Shallow. [Exit Simple.] 
+A justice of peace sometime may be behold- 
+‘ing to his xviend for a man. I keep but three 
+men and a coy yet, till my mother be dead: 
+but what though? yet I live like a poor gentle- 
+man born, 
+- Anne. I may sot go in without your wor- 
+ship: they will nos sit till you come, 
+~ Slen. I’ faith, i Wi eat nothing; I thank you 
+as much as though 1 did. 291 
+Anne. I pray you, sir, walk in. : 
+Slen. I had rather walk here, I thank you. 
+| bruised my shin th’ other day with playing 
+J . 
+at sword and dagger with a master of fence; 
+three veneys for a dish of stewed prunes; and, 
+2 by my troth, I cannot abide the smell of hot 
+"meat since. Why do your dogs bark so? be 
+there bears i’ the town? 
+Anne. | think there are, sir; I heard them 
+talked of. 301 
+Slen. I love the sport well; but I shall as 
+soon quarrel at it as any man in England. You 
+are afraid, if you see the bear loose, are you 
+
+
+not? 
+Anne. Ay, indeed, sir. 
+Slen. That's meat and drink to me, now. 
+{ have seen Sackerson loose twenty times, and 
+_ have taken him by the chain; but, I warrant 
+you, the women have so cried and shrieked at 
+it, that it passed; but women, indeed, cannot 
+_ abide “em; they are very ill-favoured rough 
+things. 
+
+
+Re-enter Pace. 
+
+_ Page. Come, gentle Master Slender, come; 
+we stay for you. 
+~ Slen. I'll eat nothing, I thank you sir. 
+
+Page. By cock and pie, you shall not 
+
+oose, sir! come, come. 
+
+Slen. Nay, pray you, lead the way. 
+
+_ Page. Come on, sir. 
+
+___ Slen. Mistress Anne, yourself shall go first. 
+
+Anne. Not I, sir: pray you, keep on. 321 
+— Slen. Truly, 1 will not go first; truly,da! I 
+will not do you that wrong. 
+
+_ Anne. I pray you, sir. 
+
+Slen. I'll rather be unmannerly than trou- 
+_ blesome. You do yourself wrong, indeed, la! 
+f [Exeunt. 
+4 Scene I]. The same. 
+
+Enter Sir Hucu Evans and Simp te. 
+[iti Go your ways, and ask of Doctor 
+mCa house which is the way: and there 
+oat one Mistress Quickly, which is in the 
+anner of his nurse, or his dry nurse, or his 
+ook, or kis laundry, his washer, and his 
+
+
+THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+55 
+
+
+Sim. Well, sir. i 
+Evans. Nay it is petter yet. Give her this 
+letter; for it is a ‘oman that altogether s ac- 
+quaintance with Mistress Anne Page: and the 
+letter is, to desire and require her to solicil 
+your master’s desires to Mistress Anne Page. 
+I pray you, be gone: I will make an end of 
+my dinner; there ’s pippins and cheese to come. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. A room in the Garter Inn. 
+
+
+Enter Fatstarr, Host, Barpotey, Ny, 
+PistoL, and Rosin. 
+
+
+Fal. Mine host of the Garter! 
+
+Host. What says my bully-reok? speak 
+scholarly and wisely. 
+
+Fal. Truly, mine host, I must turn away 
+some of my followers. 
+
+Host. Discard, bully Hercules; cashier: let 
+them wag; trot, trot. 
+
+Fal, I sit at ten pounds a week. 
+
+Host. Thou ’rt an emperor, Cesar, Keisar, 
+and Pheezar. I will entertain Bardolph; he 
+shall draw, he shall tap: said I well, bully 
+Hector? 
+
+Fal. Do so, good mine host. 
+
+Host. 1 have spoke; let him follow. [To 
+Bard.| Let me see thee froth and lime: I am 
+at a word; follow. [Exit. 
+
+Fal. Bardolph, follow him. A tapster is a 
+good trade: an old cloak makes a new jerkin; 
+a withered serving-man a fresh tapster. ee 
+
+
+adieu. 
+
+Bard. It is a life that 1 have desired: I 
+will thrive. 
+
+Pist. O base Hungarian wight! wilt thou 
+the spigot wield? [Exit Bardolph. 
+
+Nym. He was gotten in drink: is not the 
+humour conceited ? 
+
+Fal. 1am glad I am so acquit of this tinder- 
+box: his thefts were too open; his filching was 
+like an unskilful singer; he kept not time. 
+
+
+Nym. The good humour is to steal at a 
+minute’s rest. 31 
+Pist. ‘Convey,’ the wise it call. ‘Steal!* 
+
+
+foh! a fico for the phrase! 
+
+
+Fal. Well, sirs, I am almost out at heels. 
+Pist. Why, then, let kibes ensue. 
+Fal. There is no remedy; I must cony- 
+
+
+catch; I must shift. 
+
+Pist. Young ravents must have food. 
+
+Fal. Which of you know Ford of this town? 
+
+Pist. 1 ken the wight: he is of substance 
+good. 4] 
+
+Fal. My honest lads, I will tell you what 
+1 am about. 
+
+Pist. Two yards, and more. 
+
+Fal. No quips now, Pistol! Indeed, i am 
+in the waist two yards about: but I am now 
+
+
+26 
+
+
+about no waste; I am about thrift. Briefly, I do 
+mean to make love to Ford’s wife: I spy en- 
+tertainment in her; she discourses, she carves, 
+she gives the leer of invitation: I can construe 
+the action of her familiar style; and the hard- 
+est voice of her behaviour, to be Englished 
+rightly, is, ‘I am Sir John Falstaff’s. 
+
+Pist. He hath studied her will, and trans- 
+lated her will, out of honesty into English. 
+
+Nym. The anchor is deep: will that hu- 
+mour pass? 
+
+Fal. Now, the report goes she has all the 
+rule of her husband's purse: he hath a legion 
+of angels. 60 
+
+Pist. As many devils entertain; and “To 
+her, boy,’ say I. 
+
+Nym. The humour rises; it is good: hu- 
+mour me the angels. 
+
+Fal. I have writ me here a letter to her: 
+and here another to Page’s wife, who even 
+now gave me good eyes too, examined my 
+parts with most judicious ceillades; sometimes 
+the beam of her view gilded my foot, some- 
+times my portly belly. 
+
+Pist. Then did the sun on dunghill shine. 70 
+
+Nym. I thank thee for that humour. 
+
+Fal. O, she did so course o'er my exteri- 
+ors with such a greedy intention, that the ap- 
+petite of her eye did seem to scorch me up 
+like a burning glass! Here's another letter to 
+her: she bears the purse too; she is a region 
+in Guiana, all gold and bounty. I will be 
+cheater to them both, and they shall be ex- 
+chequers to me; they shall be my East and 
+West Indies, and I will trade to them both. 
+Go bear thou this letter to Mistress Page; and 
+thou this to Mistress Ford: we will thrive, lads, 
+we will thrive. 
+
+Pist. Shall I Sir Pandarus of Troy be- 
+
+come, 
+And by my side wear steel? then, Lucifer 
+take all! 
+
+Nym. 1 will run no base humour: here, 
+take the humour-letter: I will keep the hav- 
+iour of reputation. i 
+
+Fal. [To Robin] Hold, sirrah, bear you 
+
+these letters tightly: 
+Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores. 
+Rogues, hence, avaunt! vanish like hail- 
+
+
+stones go: 90 
+Trudge, plod away o’ the hoof; seek shelter, 
+ack! 
+
+
+Falstaff will learn the humour of the age, 
+French thrift, you rogues; myself and skirted 
+page. [Exeunt Falstaff and Robin. 
+Pist. Let vultures gripe thy guts! for 
+gourd and fullam holds, 
+And high and low beguiles the rich and 
+
+
+poor: 
+
+
+THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 
+
+
+[Act I, Sc. IV 
+
+
+Tester I ‘ll have in pouch when thou shalt lack, 
+Base Phrygian Turk! 
+
+
+Nym. I have operations which be 2 
+mours of revenge. 
+Pist. Wilt thou revenge? 10€ 
+
+
+Nym. By welkin and her star! 
+Pist. With wit or steel? 
+Nym. With both the humonrs, 4: 
+I will discuss the humour of this love to Page. 
+Pist. And | to Ford shall eke unfold 
+How Falstaff varlet vile, 
+His dove will prove, his gold will hold, 
+And his soft couch defile. 
+Nym. My humour shall not cool: I will in- 
+cense Page to deal with poison; | will possess 
+him with yellowness, tor the Trevolt of mine is 
+
+
+dangerous: that is my true humour. 
+Pist. Thou art the Mars of malecontents: 
+I second thee; troop on. [Exeunt. 
+Scene IV. A room in Doctor Catus’s 
+house. 
+Enter MistRESS QUICKLY, SIMPLE, and 
+Rucsy. 
+
+
+Quick. What, John Rugby! I pray thee, 
+go to the casement, and see if you can see my 
+master, Master Doctor Caius, coming. If he 
+do, i’ faith, and find any body in the house, 
+here will be an old abusing of God's patience 
+and the king’s English. 
+
+Rug. I'll go watch. 
+
+Quick. Go; and we'll have a posset for ‘t 
+soon at night, in faith, at the latter end of a 
+sea-coal fire. [Exit Rugby.] An honest, will- 
+ing, kind fellow, as ever servant shall come in 
+house withal, and, I warrant you, no tell-tale 
+nor no breed-Wate: his worst fault is, that he 
+is given to prayer; he is something peevish 
+that way: but nobody but has his fault; but 
+let that pass. 
+
+Peter Simple, you say your name is? 
+
+Sim. Ay, for fault of a better. 
+
+Quick. And Master Slender 's your master? 
+
+Sim. Ay, forsooth. 
+
+Quick. Does he not wear a great round 
+beard, like a glover’s paring-knife? 21 
+
+Simm. No, forsooth: he hath but a little wee 
+face, with a little yellow beard, a Cain- 
+ccloured beard. 
+
+Quick. A softly-sprighted man, is he not? 
+
+Sim. Ay, forsooth: but he is as tall a 
+man of his hands as any is between this and 
+his head; he hath fought with a warrener. 
+
+Quick. How say you? O, I should re- 
+member him: does he uot hold up his head, 
+as it were, and shut in his gait? 31 
+
+Sim. Yes, indeed, does he. 
+
+Quick. Well, heaven send Anne Page ao 
+
+
+worse fortune! Tell Master Parson Evans * 
+
+
+tr 
+
+
+Act I, Sc. IV] 
+
+
+will do what I can for your master: Anne is 
+a good girl, and | wish— 
+‘ Re-enter Rucsy. 
+
+Rug. Out, alas! here comes my master. 
+
+Quick. We shall all be shent. Run in here, 
+good young man; go into this closet: he will 
+not stay long. [Shuts Simple in the closet.] 
+What, John Rugby! John! what, John, | say! 
+Go, John, go inquire for my master; I doubt 
+he be not well, that he comes not home. 43 
+
+[Singing] And down, down, adown-a, &c. 
+
+Enter Doctor Catus. 
+
+Caius. Vat is you sing? | do not like des 
+toys. Pray you, go and vetch me in my 
+closet un boitier vert, a box, a green-a box: 
+do intend vat I speak? a green-a box. 
+
+Quick. Ay, forsooth; I'll fetch it you. 
+[Aside] 1 am glad he went not in himself: if 
+he had found the young man, he would have 
+been horn-mad. 52 
+
+
+Caius. Fe, fe, fe, fe! ma foi, il fait fort 
+chaud. Jem’en vais a la cour—la grande 
+. affaire. 
+Quick. Is it this, sir? 
+Caius. Oui; mette le au mon pocket: de- 
+
+
+peche, quickly. Vere is dat knave Rugby? 
+Quick. What, John Rugby! John! 
+Rug. Here, sir! 
+Caius. You are John Rugby, and you are 
+Jack Rugby. Come, take-a your rapier, and 
+come after my heel to the court. 
+Rug. ‘Tis ready, sir, here in the porch. 
+Caius. By my trot, I tarry too long. Od’s 
+me! Qu’ai-j’oublie! dere is some CES in 
+my closet, dat I vill not for the varld I shall 
+leave behind. 
+Quick. Ay me, he'll find the young man 
+_ there, and be mad! 
+
+Caius. O diable, diable! vat is in my closet? 
+Villain! larron! [Pulling Simple out.] Rugby, 
+my rapier! 72 
+
+Quick. Good master, be content. 
+
+Caius. Wherefore shall I be content-a? 
+
+Quick. The young man is an honest man. 
+
+Caius. What shall de honest man do in my 
+closet? dere is no honest man dat shall come 
+in my closet. 
+
+Quick. I beseech you, be not so phleg- 
+matic. Hear the truth of it: he came of an 
+errand to me from Parson Hugh. 81 
+
+Caius. Vell. 
+
+Sim. Ay, forsooth; to desire her to— 
+
+Quick. Peace, I pray you. 
+
+Caius. Peace-a your tongue. Speak-a your 
+tale." 
+
+Sim. To desire this honest gentlewoman, 
+your maid, to speak a good word to Mistress 
+Anne Page for my master in the way of 
+marriage. 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 
+
+
+57 
+
+
+Quick. This is all, indeed, la! but I 'Il ne'er 
+put my finger in the fire, and need not. ol 
+Caius. Sir Hugh send-a you? Rugby, baille 
+
+me some paper. Tarry you a little-a while. 
+[Writes. 
+
+Quick. [Aside to Simple] I am glad he ws 
+so quiet: if he had been throughly moved, you 
+should have heard him so loud and so melan- 
+choly. But notwithstanding, man, I ‘Il do you 
+your master what good I can: and the very yea 
+and the no is, the French doctor, my master,—] 
+may call him my master, look you, for I keep 
+his house; and I wash, wring, brew, bake, 
+scour, dress meat and drink, make the beds, 
+and do all myself,— 
+
+Sim. [Aside to Quickly] "Tis a great 
+charge to come under one body's hand. 
+
+Quick. [Aside to Simple] Are you avised 
+o’ that? you shall find it a great charge: and to 
+be up early and down late; but notwithstand- 
+ing,—to tell you in your ear; I would have 
+no words of it,—my master himself is in love 
+with Mistress Anne Page: but notwithstanding 
+that, I know Anne’s mind,—that’s neither here 
+nor there. 
+
+Caius, You jack’nape, give-a this letter to 
+Sir Hugh; by gar, it is a shallenge: I will cut 
+his troat in de park; and I will teach a 
+scurvy jack-a-nape priest to meddle or make. 
+You may be gone; it is not good you tarry 
+here. By gar, I will cut all his two stones; 
+by gar, he shall not have a stone to throw at 
+his dog. [Exit Simple. 
+
+Quick. Alas, he speaks but for his friend. 
+
+Caius. It is no matter-a ver dat: do not you 
+tell-a me dat I shall have Anne Page for my- 
+self? By gar, I vill kill de Jack priest; and I 
+have appointed mine host of de Jarteer to 
+measure our weapon. By gar, I will myself 
+have Anne Page. 
+
+Quick. Sir, the maid loves you, and all 
+shall be well. We must give folks leave to 
+prate: what, the good-jer! 129 
+
+Caius. Rugby, come to the court with me, 
+By gar, :3f I have not Anne Page, I shall turn 
+your head out of my door. Follow my heels, 
+Rugby. [Exeunt Caius and Rugby. 
+
+Quick. You shall have An fool’s-head of 
+your own. No, I know Anne’s mind for that: 
+never a woman in Windsor knows more of 
+Anne’s mind than | do; nor can do more than 
+I do with her, I thank heaven, 
+
+Fent. [Within] Who's within there? ho! 
+
+Quick. Who's there, I trow! Come near 
+the house, I pray you. 141 
+
+
+Enter FENTON. 
+
+
+Fent. How now, good woman! how dost 
+thou ? 
+
+
+38 
+
+
+Quick. The better that it pleases your 
+zood worship to ask, 
+
+Fent, What news? how does pretty Mis- 
+tress Anne? 
+
+Quick. In truth, sir, and she is pretty, and 
+honest, and gentle; and one that is your friend, 
+I can tell you that by the way; | praise 
+heaven for it. 151 
+
+Fent. Shall I do any good, thinkest thou? 
+shall I not lose my suit? 
+
+Quick. Troth, sir, all is in his hands above: 
+but notwithstanding, Master Fenton, I'll be 
+sworn on a book, she loves you. Have not 
+your worship a wart above your eye? 
+
+Fent. Yes, marry, have 1; what of that? 
+
+Quick. Well, thereby hangs a tale: good 
+faith, it is such another Nan; but, I detest, an 
+honest maid as ever broke bread: we had an 
+hour’s talk of that wart. I shall never laugh 
+but in that maid’s company! But indeed she 
+is given too much to allicholy and musing: but 
+for you—well, go to, 
+
+Fent. Well, ] shall see her to-day. Hold, 
+there’s money for thee; let me have thy 
+voice in my behalf: if thou seest her before 
+me, commend me. 169 
+
+Quick. Will I? 1’ faith, that we will; and 
+I will tell your worship more of the wart the 
+next time we have confidence; and of other 
+wooers. 
+
+Fent. Well, farewell; I am in great haste 
+now. : 
+
+Quick. Farewell to your worship. [Exit 
+Fenton.| Truly, an honest gentleman: but 
+Anne loyes him not; for I know Anne’s mind 
+as well as another does. Out upon 't! what 
+
+
+have I forgot? [ Exit, 180 
+
+
+ACT II. 
+
+
+Scene I. Before Pace’s house. 
+Enter Mistress Pace, with a letter. 
+
+
+Mrs Page. What, have I scaped love-let- 
+ters in the holiday-time of my beauty, and am 
+[ now a subject for them? Let me see. [Reads. 
+
+‘Ask me no reason why I love you; for 
+though Love use Reason for his physician, he 
+admits him not for his counsellor. You are 
+not young, no more am I; go to then, there's 
+sympathy: you are merry, so am I; ha, ha! 
+then there ’s more sympathy: you love sack, and 
+so do I; would you desire better sympathy ? 
+Let it suffice thee, Mistress Page,—at the least, 
+if the love of soldier can suffice,—that I love 
+thee. I will not say, pity me; ‘tis not a sol- 
+dier-like pharse: but I say, love me. By me, 
+
+Thine own true knight, 
+By day or night, 
+Or any kind of light. 
+
+
+THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 
+
+
+LEST ae 
+/ ns 
+
+
+With all his might 
+
+For thee to fight, JoHN FaLsTaFF. 
+What a Herod of Jewry is this! O wicked, 
+wicked world! One that is well-nigh worn to 
+pieces with age to show himself a young gal- 
+lant! What an unweighed behaviour hath this 
+Flemish drunkard picked—with the devil's 
+name!—out of my conversation, that he dares 
+in this manner assay me? Why, he hath not 
+been thrice in my company! What should I 
+say to him? | was then frugal of my mirth: 
+Heaven forgive me! Why, I “Il exhibit a bill 
+in the parliament for the putting down of men. 
+How shall I be revenged on him? for res 
+venged | will be, as sure as his guts are made 
+of puddings. 
+
+Enter Mistress Foro. 
+
+Mrs Ford. Mistress Page! I trust me, I 
+was going to your house. 
+
+Mrs Page. And, trust me, I was coming to 
+you. You look very ill. 
+
+Mrs Ford. Nay, I'Jl ne'er believe that; I 
+have to show to the contrary. 
+
+Mrs Page. Faith, but you do, in my mind, 
+
+Mrs Ford. Well, 1 do then; yet I say I 
+could show you to the contrary, O Mistress 
+Page, give me some counsel! 
+
+Mrs Page. What's the matter, woman? 
+
+Mrs Ford, O woman, if it were not for 
+one trifling respect, I could come to such 
+honour! 
+
+Mrs Page. Wang the trifle, woman! take 
+the honour. What is it? dispense with trifles; 
+what is it? 
+
+Mrs Ford. If 1 would but go to hell for an 
+eternal moment or so, I could be knighted. 50 
+
+Mrs Page. * What? thou liest! Sir Alice 
+Ford! These knights will hack; and so thow 
+shouldst not alter the article of thy gentry. 
+
+Mrs. Ford. We burn daylight; here, read, 
+read; perceive how I might be knighted. I 
+shall think the worse of fat men, as long as I 
+have an eye to make difference of men’s liking; 
+and yet he would not swear; praised women’s 
+modesty; and gave such orderly and well- 
+behaved reproof to all uncomeliness, that I 
+would have sworn his disposition would have 
+gone to the truth of his words; but they do no 
+more adhere and keep place together than the 
+Hundredth Psalm to the tune of ‘Green 
+Sleeves.’ What tempest, I trow, threw this 
+whale, with so many tuns of oil in his belly, 
+ashore at Windsor? How shall I be revenged 
+on him? I think the best way were to enter- 
+tain him with hope, till the wicked fire of lust 
+have melted him in his own grease. Did you 
+ever hear the like? 70 
+
+Mrs Page. Letter for letter, but that the 
+name of Page and Ford differs! To thy great 
+
+
+{Act II, Sc I | 
+
+
+“Act II, Se. I] 
+
+
+THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 
+
+
+59 
+
+
+comfort in this mystery of ill opinions, here ’s 
+the twin-brother of thy letter: but let thine in- 
+' herit first; for, I protest, mine never shall. I 
+warrant he hath a thousand of these letters, 
+writ with blank space for different names,— 
+sure, more,—and these are of the second edi- 
+tion: he will print them, out of doubt; for he 
+cares not what he puts into the press, when he 
+would put us two. I had rather be a giantess, 
+and lie under Mount Pelion. Well, I will find 
+you twenty lascivious turtles ere one chaste man. 
+
+Mrs Ford. Why, this is the very same; the 
+very hand, the very words. What doth -he 
+think of us? 
+
+Mrs Page. Nay, I know not: it makes me 
+almost ready to wrangle with mine own hon- 
+esty. I ‘Il entertain myself like one that 1 am 
+not acquainted withal; for, sure, unless he 
+know some strain in me, that I know not 
+myself, he would never have boarded me in 
+this fury. 
+
+Mrs Ford. ‘Boarding,’ call you it? Ill be 
+
+_ sure to keep him above deck. 
+
+Mrs Page. So will I: if he come under my 
+| hatches, I Il never to sea again. Let’s be re- 
+7 venged on him: let’s appoint him a meeting; 
+give him a show of comfort in his suit and lead 
+him on with a fine-baited delay, till he hath 
+__pawned his horses to mine host of the Gar- 
+ter. 100 
+
+Mrs Ford. Nay, I will consent to act any 
+villany against him, that may not sully the 
+chariness of our honesty. O, that my husband 
+saw this letter! it would give eternal food to 
+his jealousy. : 
+
+Mrs Page. Why, look where he comes; 
+and my good man too: he’s as far from jeal- 
+ousy as I am from giving him cause; and that 
+I hope is an unmeasurable distance. 
+
+Mrs Ford. You are the happier woman. 110 
+
+Mrs Page. Let’s consult together against 
+this greasy knight. Come hither. [They retire. 
+
+
+Enter Forp with PistoL, and Pace 
+with Nym. 
+
+
+Ford. Well, I hope it be not so. 
+_ . Pist, Hope is a curtal dog in some affairs: 
+- Sir John affects thy wife. 
+Ford. Why, sir, my wife is not young. 
+Pist. He wooes both high and low, both 
+Bo: rich and poor. 
+‘3 Both young and old, one with another, Ford; 
+‘He loves the gallimaufry: Ford, perpend. 
+Ford. Love my wife! 120 
+Pist, With liver burning hot. Prevent, or 
+oP . go thou, . 
+_ Like Sir Acteon he, with Ringwood at thy 
+heels: 
+
+
+©, cdious is the name! 
+
+
+Ford. What name, sir? 
+Pist.. The horn, I say. Farewell. 
+‘Take heed, have open eyes, for thieves do foot 
+
+
+by night: 
+Take heed, ere summer comes or cuckoo-birds 
+do sing. 
+Away, Sir Corporal Nym! 
+Believe it, Page; he speaks sense. [Exit. 
+Ford. [Aside] I will be patient; I will 
+find out this. 131 
+Nym. [To Page] And this is true; I like 
+
+
+not the humour of lying. He hath wronged 
+me in some humours: | should have borne the 
+humoured letter to her; but I have a sword 
+and it shall bite upon my necessity. He loves 
+your wife; there’s the short and the long. My 
+name is Corporal Nym; | speak and I avouch; 
+‘tis true: my name is Nym and Falstaff loves 
+your wife. Adieu. I love not the humour of 
+bread and cheese, and there ’s the humour of it. 
+Adieu. [ Exit, 
+
+Page, ‘The humour of it,’ quoth a’! here ‘s 
+a fellow frights English out of his wits. 
+
+Ford. 1 will seek out Falstaff. 
+
+Page. I never heard such a drawling, af- 
+fecting rogue. 
+
+Ford. If I do find it; well. 
+
+Page. I will not believe such a Cataian, 
+though the priest o’ the town commended him 
+for a true man. 150 
+
+Ford. "Twas a good sensible fellow: well. 
+
+Page. How now, Meg! 
+
+[Mrs Page and Mrs Ford come forward. 
+
+Mrs Page. Whither go you, George? Hark 
+you. 
+
+Mrs Ford. How now, sweet Frank! why 
+art thou melancholy > 
+
+Ford. IJ melancholy! I am not melancholy. 
+Get you home, go. 
+
+Mrs Ford. Faith, thou has some crotchets 
+in thy head. Now, will you go, Mistress Page? 
+
+Mrs Page. Havewith you, You'll come to 
+dinner, George. [Aside to Mrs Ford] Look 
+who comes yonder; she shall be our mes- 
+senger to this paltry knight. 
+
+Mrs Ford. [Aside to Mrs Page| Trust me, 
+
+
+‘I thought on her: she ‘Il fit it. 
+
+
+Enter MistRESS QUICKLY. 
+Mrs.Page. You are come to see my daugh- 
+ter Anne? 
+Quick. Ay, forsooth; and, I pray, how 
+does good Mistress Anne? 170 
+Mrs Page. Go in with us and see: we have 
+an hour’s talk with you. 
+[Exeunt Mrs Page, Mrs Ford, and 
+Mrs Quickly. 
+Page. How now, Master Ford! 
+Ford. You heard what this knave told me, 
+did you not? 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 
+
+
+Page. Yes: and you heard what the other 
+told me? 
+
+Ford. Do you think there is truth in them> 
+
+Page. Hang ‘em, slaves! I do not think 
+knight would offer it: but these that accuse him 
+in his intent towards our wives are a yoke of 
+his discarded men; very rogues, now they be 
+out of service. 
+
+Ford. Were they his men? 
+
+Page. Marry, were they. 
+
+Ford. 1 like it never the better for that. 
+Does he lie at the Garter? 
+
+Page. Ay, marry, does he. If he should 
+intend this voyage towards my wife, | would 
+turn her loose to him; and what he gets more 
+of her than sharp words, let it lie on my head. 
+
+Ford. I do not misdoubt my wife; but I 
+would be loath to turn them together. A man 
+may be too confident: I would have nothing 
+lie on my head: | cannot be thus satisfied. 
+
+Page. Look where my ranting host of the 
+Garter comes: there is either liquor in his pate 
+or money in his purse when he looks so merrily. 
+
+
+Enter Host. 
+
+
+How now, mine host! 
+Host. How now, bully-rook! 
+gentleman, Cavaleiro-justice, I say! 
+
+
+thou ‘rt a 
+
+
+201 
+Enter SHALLOW. 
+
+
+Shal. I follow, mine host, I follow. Good 
+even and twenty, good Master Page! Master 
+Page, will you go with us? we have sport in 
+
+
+Tell him, cavaleiro-justice; tell him, 
+bully-rook. 
+
+Shal. Sir, there is a fray to be fought be- 
+tween Sir Hugh the Welsh priest and Caius 
+the French doctor. 210 
+
+Ford. Good mine host 0” the Garter, a word 
+with you. [Drawing him aside. 
+
+Host, What sayest thou, my bully-rook> 
+
+Shal. [To Page] Will you go with us to 
+behold it? My merry host hath had the meas- 
+uring of their weapons; and, I think, hath 
+appointed them contrary places; for, believe 
+me, I hear the parson is no jester. Hark, I 
+will tell you what our sport shall be. 
+
+[They converse apart. 
+
+Host. Hast thou no suit against my knight, 
+my guest-cavaleire? 221 
+
+Ford. None, I protest: but I'll give you a 
+pottle of burnt sack to give me recourse to him 
+and tell him my name is Brook; only for a jest. 
+
+Host. My hand, bully; thou shalt have 
+egress and regress;—said I well?—and thy 
+name shall be Brook. It is a merry knight. 
+Will you go, +An-heires? 
+
+Shal. Have with you, mine host. 
+
+
+Page. I have heard the Frenchman hath 
+good skill in his rapier. 231 
+Shal. Tut, sir, I could have told you more. 
+In these times you stand on distance, your 
+passes, stoccadoes. and I‘know not what: 'tis the 
+heart, Master Page; ‘tis here, ’tis here. I have 
+seen the time, with my long sword I would 
+have made you four tall fellows skip like rats. 
+Host. Here, boys, here, here! shall we wag? 
+Page. Have with you. I had rather hear 
+them scold than fight. 240 
+[Exeunt Host, Shal., and Page. 
+
+Ford. Though Page be a secure fool, and 
+stands so firmly on his wife's frailty, yet I 
+cannot put off my opinion so easily: she was 
+in his company at Page’s house; and what 
+they made there, I know not. Well, I will 
+look further into’t; and I have a disguise to 
+sound Falstaff. If I find her honest, I lose 
+not my labour; if she be otherwise, ‘tis 
+labour well bestowed, [Exit 
+
+
+Scene II. A room in the Garter Inn. 
+Enter FALsTaFF and PisTou. 
+
+
+Fal. 1 will not lend thee a penny. 
+
+Pist. Why, then the world’s mine oyster, 
+Which I with sword will open. 
+
+Fal, Not a penny. I have been content, 
+sir, you should lay my countenance to pawn: 
+I have grated upon my good friends for three 
+reprieves for you and your coach-fellow 
+Nym; or else you had locked through the 
+grate, like a geminy of baboons. I am 
+damned in hell for swearing to gentlemen my 
+friends, you were good soldiers and tall fel- 
+lows; and when Mistress Bridget lost the 
+handle of her fan, I took *t upon mine honour 
+thou hadst it not. 
+
+Pist. Didst not thou share? hadst thou not 
+
+fifteen pence? 
+
+Fal. Reason, you rogue, reason: thinkest 
+thou I "Il endanger my soul gratis? Ata word, 
+hang no more about me, I am no gibbet for 
+you. Go. A short knife and a throng! To 
+your manor of Pickt-hatch! Go. You'll not 
+bear a letter for me, you rogue! you stand 
+upon your honour! Why, thou unconfinable 
+baseness, it is as much as I can do to keep 
+the terms of my honour precise: I, I, I my- 
+self sometimes, leaving the fear of God on| 
+the left hand and hiding mine honour in my 
+necessity, am fain to shuffle, to hedge and to 
+lurch; and yet you, rogue, will ensconce your 
+rags, your cat-a-mountain looks, your red-lat- 
+tice phrases, and your bold-beating oaths, 
+
+
+under the shelter of your honour! You will 
+
+not do it, you! 30 
+
+Pist. I do relent: what would thou more 
+of man? 
+
+
+[Acr Il, Se. IP 
+
+
+Act II, Sc. II] 
+
+
+THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+Enter Rosin. 
+
+
+Rob. Sir, here's a woman would speak 
+with you. 
+Fal, Let her approach. 
+
+
+Enter MistREss QUICKLY. 
+
+
+Quick. Give your worship good morrow. 
+
+Fal. Good morrow, good wife. 
+
+Quick. Not so, an ‘t please your worship. 
+
+Fal. Good maid, then. 
+
+Quick. I'll be sworn, 
+As my mother was, the first hour I was born. 
+
+Fal. 1 do believe the swearer. What with 
+me? r 40 
+
+Quick. Shall I vouchsafe your worship a 
+word or two? 
+
+Fal. Two thousand, fair woman: and I'll 
+vouchsafe thee the hearing. 
+
+Quick. There is one Mistress Ford, sir:— 
+I pray come a little nearer this ways:—I my- 
+self dwell with Master Doctor Caius,— 
+
+Fal. Well, on: Mistress Ford, you say,— 
+
+Quick. Your worship says very true: | 
+pray your worship, come a little nearer this 
+ways. 50 
+
+Fal. I warrant thee, nobody hears; mine 
+own people, mine own people. 
+
+Quick. Are they so? God bless them and 
+make them his servants! 
+
+Fal. Well, Mistress Ford; what of her? 
+
+Quick. Why, sir, she’s a good creature. 
+Lord, Lord! your worship’s a wanton! Well, 
+heaven forgive you and all of us, I pray! 
+
+Fal. Mistress Ford; come, Mistress Ford, 
+
+Quick. Marry, this is the short and the long 
+of it; you have brought her into such a can- 
+aries as ‘tis wonderful. The best courtier of 
+them all, when the court lay at Windsor, 
+could never have brought her to such a can- 
+ary. Yet there has been knights, and lords, 
+and gentlemen, with their coaches, I warrant 
+you, coach after coach, letter after letter, gift 
+after gift; smelling so sweetly, all musk, and 
+so rushling, I warrant you, in silk and gold; 
+and in such alligant terms; and in such wine 
+and sugar of the best and the fairest, that 
+would have won any woman's heart; and | 
+warrant you, they could never get an eye-wink 
+of her: I had myself twenty angels given me 
+this morning; but I defy all angels, in any 
+such sort, as they say, but in the way of hon- 
+esty: and, I warrant you, they could never 
+get her so much as sip on a cup with the 
+proudest of them all: and yet there has been 
+earls, nay, which is more, pensioners; but, I 
+warrant you, all is one with her. 
+
+Fal. But what says she to me? 
+my good she-Mercury. 
+
+Quick. Marrv. she hath received your let- 
+
+
+be brief, 
+
+
+ter, for the which she thanks you a thousand 
+times; and she gives you to notify that her 
+husband will be absence from his house be- 
+tween ten and eleven. 
+
+Fal. Ten and eleven? 
+
+Quick. Ay, forsooth; and then you may 
+come and see the picture, she says, that you 
+wot of: Master Ford, her husband, will be 
+from home. Alas! the sweet woman leads an 
+ill life with him: he’s a very jealousy man: 
+she leads a very frampold life with him, good 
+heart. 
+
+Fal. Ten and eleven. Woman, commend 
+me to her; I will not fail her. 
+
+Quick. Why, you say well. But I have 
+another messenger to your worship. Mistress 
+Page hath her hearty commendations to you 
+too: and let me tell you in your ear, she’s as 
+fartuous a civil modest wife, and one, [ tell 
+you, that will not miss you morning nor eve- 
+ning prayer, as any is in Windsor, whoe’er be 
+the other: and she bade me tell your worship 
+that her husband is seldom from home; but 
+she hopes there will come a time. I never 
+knew a woman so dote upon a man: surely 
+I think you have charms, la; yes, in truth. 
+
+Fal. Not I, I assure thee: setting the at- 
+traction of my good parts aside I have no 
+other charms. 11 
+
+Quick. Blessing on your heart for’t! 
+
+Fal. But, pray thee, tell me this: has 
+Ford's wife and Page's wife acquainted each 
+other how they love me? 
+
+Quick. That were a jest indeed! they have 
+not so little grace, I hope: that were a trick 
+indeed! But Mistress Page would desire you 
+to send her your little page, of all loves: her 
+husband has a marvellous infection to the lit- 
+tle page; and truly Master Page is an hon- 
+est man. Never a wife in Windsor leads a 
+better life than she does: do what she will, 
+say what she will, take all, pay all, go to 
+bed when she list, rise when she list, all is 
+as she will: and truly she deserves it; for if 
+there be a kind woman in Windsor, she is 
+one. You must send her your page; no 
+remedy. 
+
+Fal. Why, I will. 
+
+Quick. Nay, but do so, then: and, look 
+you, he may come and go between you both; 
+and in any case have a nay-word, that you 
+may know one another's mind, and the boy 
+never need to understand any thing; for ‘tis 
+not good that children should know any wick- 
+edness: old folks, you know, have discretion, 
+as they say, and know the world. 
+
+Fal. Fare thee well: commend me to them 
+both: there’s my purse; I am yet thy debtor 
+Boy, go along with this woman. [Exeunt Mis 
+
+
+62 
+
+
+ress Quickly and Robin.] This news dis- 
+iracts me! 140 
+Pist. This punk is one of Cupid's carriers: 
+Clap on more sails; pursue; up with your 
+fights: 
+Give fire: she is my prize, or ocean whelm 
+them all! [Exit. 
+Fal. Sayest thou so, old Jack? go thy 
+ways; I'll make more of thy old body than 
+I have done. Will they yet look after thee? 
+Wilt thou, after the expense of so much 
+money, be now a gainer? Good body, | 
+thank thee. Let them say ‘tis grossly done; 
+so it be fairly done, no matter. 
+
+
+Enter BARDOLPH. 
+Bard. Sir John, there’s one Master Brook 
+
+
+below would fain speak with you, and be ac- 
+quainted with you; and hath sent your wor- 
+ship a morning’s draught of sack. 
+
+Fal. Brook is his name? 
+
+Bard. Ay, si. 
+
+Fal. Call him in. [Exit Bardolph.] Such 
+Brooks are welcome to me, that o’erflow such 
+liquor. Ah, ha! Mistress Ford and Mis- 
+tress Page, have I encompassed you? go to; 
+via! 
+
+Re-enter BarpoLtpH, with Forp disguised. 
+
+
+Ford. Bless you, sir! 160 
+
+Fal. And you, sir! Would you speak with 
+me? 
+
+Ford. 1 make bold to press with so little 
+preparation upon you. 
+
+Fal. You're welcome. What's your will? 
+Give us leave, drawer. [Exit Bardolph. 
+
+Ford. Sir, 1 am a gentleman that have 
+spent much: my name is Brook. 
+
+Fal. Good Master Brook, I desire more 
+acquaintance of you, 169 
+
+Ford. Good Sir John, I sue for yours: not 
+to charge you; for I must let you under- 
+stand I think myself in better plight for a 
+lender than you are: the which hath some- 
+thing emboldened me to this unseasoned in- 
+trusion; for they say, if money go before, all 
+ways do lie open. 
+
+Fal. Money is a good soldier, sir, and will 
+on. 
+Ford. Troth, and I have a bag of money 
+here troubles me: if you will hélp to bear it, 
+Sir John, take all, or half, for easing me of 
+the carriage. 
+
+Fal. Sir, 1 know not how I may deserve to 
+be your porter. 18] 
+
+Ford. 1 will tell you, sir, if you will give 
+me the hearing. 
+
+Fal. Speak, good Master Brook: I shall be 
+glad to be your servant. 
+
+Ford. Sir, I hear you are a scholar,—I will 
+
+
+THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 
+
+
+Te 
+wy 
+
+
+be brief with you,—and you have been a man 
+long known to me, though I had never so good 
+means, as desire, to make myself acquainted 
+with you. I shall discover a. thing to you, 
+wherein I must very much lay open mine own 
+
+
+imperfection: but good Sir John, as you have — 
+
+
+one eye upon my follies, as you hear them un- 
+folded, turn another into the register of your 
+own; that I may pass with a reproof the eas- 
+ier, sith you yourself know how easy it is to 
+be such an offender. 
+
+Fal. Very well, sir; proceed. 
+
+Ford. There is a gentlewoman in_ this 
+town; her husband’s name is Ford. 
+
+Fal. Well, sir. 200 
+
+Ford. 1 have long loved her, and, | protest 
+to you, bestowed much on her; followed her 
+with a doting observance; engrossed oppor- 
+tunities to meet her; fee’d every slight occasion 
+that could but niggardly give me sight of her; 
+not only bought many presents to give her, but 
+have given largely to many to know what she 
+
+
+would have given; briefly, | have pursued her ~ 
+
+
+as love hath pursued me; which hath been on 
+
+the wing of all occasions. But. whatsoever I 
+
+have merited, either in my mind or in my 
+
+means, meed, I am sure, I have received none; 
+
+unless experience be a jewel that I have pur- 
+
+chased at an infinite rate, and that hath taught 
+
+me to say this: 
+
+‘Love like a shadow flies when substance love 
+pursues; 
+
+Pursuing that that flies, and flying what pur- 
+sues.” 
+
+Fal. Have you received no promise of sat- 
+isfaction at her hands? 
+
+
+Ford. Never. 
+
+
+Fal. Have you importuned her to such a 
+
+
+purpose > 
+
+Ford. Never. 
+
+Fal. Of what quality was your love, then? 
+
+Ford. Like a fair house built on another 
+man’s ground; so that I have lost my edifice 
+by mistaking the place where I erected it. 
+
+Fal. To what purpose have you unfolded 
+this to me? 
+
+Ford. When I have told you that, I have 
+told you all. Some say, that though she ap- 
+pear honest to me, yet in other places she en- 
+largeth her mirth so far that there is shrewd 
+construction made of her. Now, Sir John, 
+here is the heart of my purpose: you are a 
+gentleman of excellent breeding, admirable 
+discourse, of great admittance, authentic in your 
+place and person, generally allowed for your 
+many war-like, court-like, and learned prep- 
+
+
+arations, 
+Fal. O, siri 239 
+There 
+
+
+Ford. Believe it, for you know it. 
+
+
+[Act II, Sc. IE 
+
+
+Pr ae 
+
+
+ge Ne ey Foe 3 
+
+
+Aer Il, Sc. Il] | THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 
+
+
+is money; spend it, spend it; spend more; 
+spend all I have; only give me so much of 
+your time in exchange of it, as to lay an 
+amiable siege to the honesty of this Ford's 
+wife: use your art of wooing; win her to 
+consent to you: if any man may, you may as 
+soon as any. 
+
+Fal, Would it apply well to the vehemency 
+of your affection, that I should win what you 
+would enjoy? Methinks you prescribe by 
+yourself very preposterously. 250 
+_ Ford. O, understand my drift. She dwells 
+so securely on the excellency of her honour, 
+that the folly of my soul dares not present it- 
+self: she is too bright to be looked against. 
+Now, could I come to her with any detection 
+in my hand, my desires had instance and 
+argument to commend themselves: I could 
+drive her then from the ward of her purity, 
+her reputation, her marriage-vow, and a thou- 
+sand other her defences, which now are too 
+too strongly embattled against me. What say 
+
+you tot, Sir John? 261 
+
+Fal. Master Brook, I will first make bold 
+with your money; next, give me your hand; 
+and last, as I am a gentleman, you shall, if 
+you will, enjoy Ford's wife. 
+
+Ford. O good sir! 
+
+Fal. 1 say you shall. 
+
+Ford. Want no money, Sir John; you 
+
+
+Fal. Want no Mistress Ford, Master 
+Brook: you shall want none. I shall be with 
+her, I may tell you, by her own appointment; 
+even as you came in to me, her assistant or 
+go-between parted from me: | say | shall be 
+
+
+shall want none. 
+
+
+with her between ten and eleven; for at that 
+
+
+time the jealous rascally knave her husband 
+
+
+will be forth. Come you to me at night; you} 
+
+
+shall know how I speed. 
+
+
+Ford. | am blest in your acquaintance. Do 
+
+
+~ you know Ford, sir? 280 
+Fal, Hang him, poor cuckoldly knave. I 
+_ know him not: yet I wrong him to call him 
+
+
+_ poor; they say the jealous wittolly knave hath 
+
+
+“masses of money; for the which his wife| 
+
+
+seems to me well-favoured. I will use her as 
+the key of the cuckoldly rogue’s coffer; and 
+_ there’s my. harvest-home. 
+
+_ Ford. I would you knew Ford, sir, that you 
+_ might avoid him if you saw him. 289 
+_ Fal. Hang him, mechanical  salt-butter 
+rogue! I will stare him out of his wits; I 
+will awe him with my cudgel: it shall hang 
+ike a’imeteor o’er the cuckold’s horns. Master 
+_ Brook, thou shalt know I will predominate 
+over the peasant and thow shalt lie with his 
+wife. Come to me soon at night. Ford's a 
+_knave, and | will aggravate his style; thou, 
+
+
+“Ne 
+
+
+63 
+
+
+Master Brook, shalt know him for knave and 
+cuckold. Come to me soon at night. [Exit. 299 
+
+Ford. What a damned Epicurean rascal 
+is this! My heart is ready to crack with im- 
+patience. Who says this is improvident jeal- 
+ousy.? my wife hath sent to him; the hour is 
+fixed; the match is made. Would any mar 
+have thought this? See the hell of having a 
+false woman! My bed shall be abused, my 
+coffers ransacked, my reputation gnawn at; 
+and I shall not only receive this villanous 
+wrong, but stand under the adoption of abom- 
+inable terms, and by him that does me this 
+wrong. Terms! names! Amaimon sounds 
+well; Lucifer, well; Barbason, well; yet they 
+are devils’ additions, the names of fiends: but 
+Cuckold! Wittol!—Cuckold! the devil him- 
+self hath not such a name. Page is an ass, 
+a secure ass: he will trust his wife: he will 
+not be jealous. J will rather trust a Fleming 
+with my butter, Parson Hugh the Welshman 
+with my cheese, an Irishman with my aqua- 
+vite bottle, or a thief to walk my ambling 
+gelding, than my wife with herself: then she 
+plots, then she ruminates, then she devises; 
+and what they think im their hearts they may 
+effect, they will break their hearts but they 
+will effect. God be praised for my jealousy! 
+Eleven o’clock the hour. I will present this, 
+detect my wife, be revenged on Falstaff, and 
+laugh at Page. I will about it; better three 
+hours too soon than a minute too late. Fie, 
+
+
+fie, fie! cuckold! cuckold! cuckold! [Exit 
+
+
+Scene Ill. A field near Windsor. 
+Enter Catus and Rucpy. 
+Caius. Jack Rugby! 
+Rug. Sir? 
+Caius. Vat is de clock, Jack? 
+Rug. "Tis past the hour, sir, that Sir Hugh 
+promised to meet. 
+Caius. By gar, he has save his soul, dat he 
+
+
+‘is no come; he has pray his Pible well, dat he 
+
+
+is no come: by gar, Jack Rugby, he is dead 
+already, if he be come. 
+
+Rug. He is wise, sir; he knew your wor- 
+ship would kill him, if he came. 
+
+Caius. By gar, de herring is no. dead so as 
+I vill kill him. Take your rapier, Jack; £ 
+vill tell you how I vill kill him. 
+
+Rug. Alas, sir, I cannot fence. 
+
+Caius. Villany, take your rapier. 
+
+Rug. Forbear; here’s company. 
+Enter Host, SHaALLow, SLENDER, and Pace, 
+
+Host. Bless thee, bully doctor! 
+
+Shal. Save you, Master Doctor Caius! 
+
+Page. Now, good master doctor! 
+
+Slen, Give you good morrow, sir. 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+64 
+
+
+Caius. Vat be all you, one, two, tree, four, 
+come for? 
+
+Host. To see thee fight, to see thee foin, to 
+see thee traverse; to see thee here, to see thee 
+there; to see thee pass thy punto, thy stock, 
+thy reverse, thy distance, thy montant. Is he 
+dead, my Ethiopian? is he dead, my Fran- 
+cisco? he, bully! What says my /Esculapius? 
+my Galen? my heart of elder? ha! is he 
+dead, bully stale? is he dead? 31 
+
+Caius. By gar, he is de coward Jack priest 
+of de vorld; he is not show his face. 
+
+Host, Thou art a Castalion-King-Urinal. 
+Hector of Greece, my boy! 
+
+Caius. | pray you, beer vitness that me 
+have stay slxX or seven, two, tree hours for 
+him, and he is no come. 
+
+Shal. He is the wiser man, master doctor: 
+he is a curer of souls, and you a curer of 
+bodies; if you should fight, you go against the 
+hair of your professions. Is it not true, Mas- 
+ter Page? 
+
+Page. Master Shallow, you have yourself 
+been a great fighter, though now a man of 
+
+
+peace. 
+
+Shal. Bodykins, Master Page, though I 
+now be old and of the peace, if I see a sword 
+out, my finger itches to make one. Though 
+we are justices and doctors and churchmen, 
+Master Page, we have some salt of our youth 
+in us; we are the sons of women, Master 
+Page. 51 
+
+Page. °Tis true, Master Shallow. 
+
+Shal. It will be found so, Master Page. 
+Master Doctor Caius, I am come to fetch .you 
+home. I am sworn of the peace: you have 
+showed yourself a wise physician, and Sir 
+Hugh hath shown himself a wise and patient 
+churchman. You must go with me, master 
+doctor. 
+
+Host. Pardon,  guest-justice. 
+Mounseur Mockwater. 
+
+Caius. Mock-vater! vat is dat? 
+
+Host. Mock-water, in our English tongue, 
+is valour, bully. 
+
+Caius. By gar, den, I have as mush mock- 
+vater as de Englishman. Scurvy jack-dog 
+priest! by gar, me vill cut his ears. 
+
+Host. He will clapper-claw thee tightly, 
+bully. 
+
+Caius. Clapper-de-claw! vat is dat? 
+
+Host. That is, he will make thee amends. 
+
+Caius. By gar, me do look he shall clap- 
+per-de-claw me; for, by gar, me vill have it. 
+
+Host. And I will provoke him to’t, or let 
+him wag. 
+
+Caius. Me tank you for dat. 
+
+Host. And, moreover, bully,—but first, 
+master guest, and Master Page, and eke Cav- 
+
+
+A_ word, 
+60 
+
+
+THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 
+
+
+aleiro Slender, go you through the town to 
+Frogmore. [Aside to them. 
+
+Page. Sir Hugh is there, is he? 79 
+
+Host. He is there: see what humour he is 
+in; and | will bring the doctor about by the 
+fields. Will it do well? 
+
+Shal. We will do it. 
+
+Page, Shal., and Slen. Adieu, good master 
+doctor. [Exeunt Page, Shal., and Slen. 
+
+Caius. By gar, me vill kill de priest; for 
+he speak for a jack-an-ape to Anne Page. 
+
+Host. Let him die; sheathe thy impatience, 
+throw cold water on thy choler: go about the 
+fields with me through Frogmore: I will bring 
+thee where Mistress Anne Page is, at a farm- 
+house a-feasting; and thou shalt woo her. 
+Cried I aim? said I well? 
+
+Caius. By gar, me dank you vor dat: by 
+gar, I love you; and I shall procure-a you 
+de good guest, de earl, de knight, de lords, 
+de gentlemen, my patients. 
+
+Host. For the which I will be thy adver- 
+sary toward Anne Page. Said I well? 
+
+Caius. By gar, ‘tis good; vell said. 100 
+
+Host. Let us wag, then. 
+
+Caius. Come at my heels, Jack Rugby. 
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT. III. 
+
+
+Scene I. A field near Frogmore. 
+Enter Sir Hucu Evans and SIMPLE. 
+
+
+Evans. | pray you now, good Master Slen- 
+der’s serving-man, and friend Simple by your 
+name, which way have you looked for Mas- 
+ter Caius, that calls himself doctor of physic? 
+
+Sim. Marry, sir, the pittie-ward, the park- 
+ward, every way; old Windsor way, and 
+every way but the town way. 
+
+Evans. I most fehemently desire you you 
+will also look that way. 
+
+Sim. I will, sir. [Exit. 10 
+
+Evans. *Pless my soul, how full of chollors 
+I am, and trempling of mind! I shall be 
+glad if he have deceived me. How melan- 
+cholies I am! I will knog his urinals about 
+his knave’s costard when I have good oppor- 
+tunities for the ork. “Pless my soul! [Sings. 
+
+To shallow rivers, to whose falls 
+Melodious birds sings madrigals; 
+There will we make our peds of roses, 
+And a thousand fragrant posies. 
+To shallow— 
+
+Mercy on me! I have a great dispositions 
+to cry, [ Sings, 
+Melodious birds sing madrigals— 
+
+When as I sat in Pabylon— 
+And a thousand vagram pasies, 
+To shallow, &c. 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+[Acr II, Se. I 
+
+
+ot 
+
+
+Acr Ill, Sc. HU] 
+
+
+THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 65 
+
+
+Re-enter SIMPLE. 
+Sim. Yonder he is coming, this way, Sir 
+
+
+Hugh. 
+Evans. He's welcome. [ Sings. 
+To shallow rivers, to whose falls— 29 
+Heaven prosper the right! What weapons 
+is he? 
+
+
+Sim. No weapons, sir. There comes my 
+master, Master Shallow, and another gentle- 
+man, from Frogmore, over the stile, this way. 
+
+Evans. Pray you, give me my gown; or 
+else keep it in your arms. 
+
+
+Enter Pace, SHALLow, and SLENDER. 
+
+
+Shal. How now, master Parson! Good 
+morrow, good Sir Hugh. Keep a gamester 
+from the dice, and a good student from his 
+book, and it is wonderful. 
+
+Slen. [Aside] Ah, sweet Anne Page! 40 
+
+Page. ‘Save you, good Sir Hugh! 
+
+Evans. ‘Pless you from his mercy sake, all 
+
+
+of you! 
+
+
+Shal. What, the sword and the word! do 
+you study them both, master parson? 
+
+Page. And youthful still! in your doublet 
+and hose this raw rheumatic day! 
+
+Evans, There is reasons and causes for it. 
+
+Page. We are come to you to do a good 
+office, master parson. 50 
+
+Evans. Fery well: what is it? 
+
+Page. Yonder is a most reverend gentle- 
+man, who, belike having received wrong by 
+some person, is at most odds with his own 
+gravity and patience that ever you saw. 
+
+Shal. I have lived fourscore years and up- 
+ward; I never heard a man of his place, grav- 
+ity and learning, so wide of his own respect. 
+
+Evans. What is he? 
+
+Page. | think you know him; Master Doc- 
+tor Caius, the renowned French physician. 61 
+
+Evans. Got's will, and his passion of my 
+heart! ‘I had as lief you would tell me of a 
+mess of porridge. 
+
+Page. Why? 
+
+Evans. He has no more knowledge in Hib- 
+ocrates and Galen,—and he is a knave be- 
+sides; a cowardly knave as you would de- 
+sires to be acquainted withal. 
+
+Page. 1 warrant you, he’s the man should 
+fight with him. 
+
+Slen. [Aside] O sweet Anne Page! 
+
+Shal. It appears so by his weapons. Keep 
+them asunder; here comes Doctor Caius. 
+
+
+‘Enter Host, Caius and Rucsy. 
+
+
+Page. Nay, good master parson, keep in 
+your weapon. 
+
+Shal. So do you, good master doctor. 
+
+Host. Disarm them, and let them question: 
+
+
+let them keep their limbs whole and hack our 
+English. 80 
+
+Caius. I pray you, let-a me speak a word 
+with your ear, Wherefore vill you not meet- 
+a me? 
+
+Evans. [Aside to Caius] Pray you, use 
+your patience: in good time. 
+
+Caius. By gar, you are de coward, de Jack 
+dog, John ape. 
+
+Evans. [Aside to Caius] Pray you, let us 
+not be laughing-stocks to other men’s humours; 
+I desire you in friendship and will one way 
+or other make you amends. [Aloud] | will 
+knog your urinals about your knave's cogs- 
+comb for missing your meetings and appoint- 
+ments. 
+
+Caius. Diable! Jack Rugby,—mine host 
+de Jarteer,—have I not stay for him to kill 
+him? have I not, at de place I did appoint? 
+
+Evans. As I am a Christians soul now, 
+look you, this is the place appointed: I ‘ll be 
+judgement by mine host of the Garter. 
+
+Host. Peace, I say, Gallia and Gaul, 
+French and Welsh, soul-curer and body-curer! 
+
+Caius, Ay, dat is very good; excellent. 
+
+Host, Peace, I say! hear mine host of the 
+Garter. Am I politic? am I subtle? am I 
+a Machiavel? Shall I lose my doctor? no; 
+he gives me the potions and the motions. 
+Shall I lose my parson, my priest, my Sir 
+Hugh? no: he gives me the proverbs and the 
+no-verbs. Give me thy hand, terrestrial; so. 
+Give me thy hand, celestial; so. Boys of art, 
+I have deceived you both; I have directed you 
+to wrong places: your hearts are mighty, your 
+skins are whole, and let burnt sack be the is- 
+sue. Come, lay their swords to pawn. Fol- 
+low me, lads of peace; follow, follow, follow. 
+
+Shal. Trust me, a mad host. Follow, gen- 
+tlemen, follow. 
+
+Slen. [Aside] O sweet Anne Page! 
+
+[Exeunt Shal., Slen., Page, and Host. 
+
+Caius. Ha, do I perceive dat? have you 
+make-a de sot of us, ha, ha? 119 
+
+Evans. This is well; he has made us his 
+vlouting-stog. I desire you that we may be 
+friends; and let us knog our prains together 
+to be revenge on this same scall, scurvy, cog- 
+ging companion, the host of the Garter. 
+
+Caius. By gar, with all my heart. He 
+promise to bring me where is Anne Page; by 
+gar, he deceive me too. 
+
+Evans. Well, I will smite his noddles. 
+Pray you, follow. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene Il. A street, 
+Enter Mistress PAcE and Rosin. 
+
+
+Mrs Page. Nay, keep your way, little gal- 
+lant; you were wont to be a follower, but now 
+
+
+66 
+
+
+you are a leader. Whether had you rather 
+lead mine eyes, or eye your master’s heels? 
+Rob. I had rather, forsooth, go before you 
+like a man than follow him like a dwarf. 
+Mrs Page. O, you are a flattering boy: 
+now I see you'll be a courtier. 
+
+
+Enter Forp. 
+Ford. Well met, Mistress Page. Whither 
+
+
+go you? 
+
+Mrs Page. Truly, sir, to see your wife. Is 
+she at home? 
+
+Ford. Ay; and as idle as she may hang 
+together, for want of company. I think, if 
+your husbands were dead, you two would 
+marry. 
+
+Mrs Page. 
+husbands. 
+
+Ford. Where had you this pretty weather- 
+cock? 
+
+Mrs Page. I cannot tell what the dickens 
+his name is my husband had him of. What 
+do you call your knight’s name, sirrah? 21 
+
+Rob. Sir John Falstaff. 
+
+Ford. Sir John Falstaff! 
+
+Mrs Page. He, he; I can never hit on’s 
+name. ‘There is such a league between my 
+good man and he! Is your wife at home in- 
+deed > 
+
+Ford. Indeed she is. 
+
+Mrs Page. By your leave, sir: | am sick 
+nll I see her. [Exeunt Mrs Page and Robin. 
+
+Ford. Has Page any brains? hath he any 
+eyes? hath he any thinking? Sure, they sleep; 
+he hath no use of them. Why, this boy will 
+carry a letter twenty mile, as easy as a cannon 
+will shoot point-blank twelve score. He pieces 
+out his wife’s inclination; he gives her folly 
+motion and advantage: and now she’s going to 
+my wife, and Falstaff’s boy with her. A man 
+may hear this shower sing in the wind. And 
+Falstaff’s boy with her! Good plots, they 
+are laid; and our revolted wives share dam- 
+nation together. Well; I will take him, 
+then torture my wife, pluck the borrowed veil 
+of modesty from the so seeming Mistress 
+Page, divulge Page himself for a secure and 
+wilful Actzeon; and to these violent proceed- 
+ings all my neighbours shall cry aim. [Clock 
+heard.] The clock gives me my cue, and my 
+assurance bids me search: there I shall find 
+Falstaff: I shall be rather praised for this 
+than mocked; for it is as positive as the earth 
+is firm that Falstaff is there: I will go. 50 
+Enter Pace, SHALLow, SLENDER, Host, Sir 
+
+Hucu Evans, Caius, and Rucsy. 
+
+Shai., Fage, Gc. Well met, Master Ford. 
+
+Ford. Trust me a good knot: } have good 
+cheer at home; and I pray you all go with me. 
+
+
+Be sure of that—two other 
+
+
+THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 
+
+
+YF, a’. lle ae 
+
+
+é 
+
+
+[Acr III, Sc. Il 
+
+
+Shal, I must excuse myself, Master Ford. 
+
+Slen. And so must I, sir: we have ap- 
+pointed to dine with Mistress Anne, and | 
+would not break with her for more money 
+than I'll speak of. 
+
+Shal. We have lingered about a match be- 
+tween Anne Page and my cousin Slender, and 
+this day we shall have our answer. 
+
+Slen. 1 hope I have your good will, father 
+Page. 
+
+Page. You have, Master Slender; I stand 
+wholly for you: but my wife, master doctor, 
+is for you altogether. 
+
+Caius. Ay, be-gar; and de maid is love-a 
+me: my nursh-a-Quickly tell me so mush. 
+
+Host. What say you to young Master Fen- 
+ton? he capers, he dances, he has eyes of 
+youth, he writes verses, he speaks holiday, he 
+smells April and May: he will carry’t, he 
+will carry’t; ‘tis in his buttons; he will 
+carry’t. 71 
+
+Page. Not by my consent, I promise you. 
+The gentleman is of no having: he kept com- 
+pany with the wild prince and Poins; he is 
+of too high a region; he knows too much. No, 
+he shall not knit a knot in his fortunes with 
+the finger of my substance: if he takes her, let 
+him take her simply; the wealth I have waits 
+on my consent, and my consent goes not that 
+way. 
+
+Ford. | beseech you heartily, some vf you 
+go home with me to dinner: besides your 
+cheer, you shall have sport; I will show you a 
+monster. Master doctor, you shall go; so 
+shall you, Master Page; and you, Sir Hugh. 
+
+Shal. Well, fare you well: we shall have 
+the freer wooing at Master Page's. 
+
+[Exeunt Shal. and Slen. 
+
+Caius. Go home, John Rugby: I come 
+anon, [Exit Rugby. 
+
+Host. Farewell, my hearts: I will to my 
+honest knight Falstaff, and drink canary with 
+him. (Exit. 
+
+Ford. [Aside] I think I shall drink in 
+pipe-wine first with him: I "Il make him dance. 
+Will you go, gentles? 
+
+All. Have with you to see this monster. 
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. A room in Forp’s house. 
+Enter Mistress Forp and Mistress Pace. 
+Mrs Ford. What, John! What, Robert! 
+
+
+Mrs Page. Quickly, quickly! Is the buck- 
+basket— 
+
+
+Mrs Ford. I warrant. What, Robin, I say! 
+
+
+Enter SERVANTS with a basket. 
+
+
+Mrs Page. Come, come, come. 
+Mrs Ford. Here, set it down. 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+z= 
+ads! _ 
+
+
+Aer Hl, Sc. HY] 
+
+
+THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 
+
+
+67 
+
+
+Mrs Page. Give your men the charge; we 
+must be brief. 
+
+Mrs Ford. Marry, as | told you before, 
+John and Robert, be ready here hard by in 
+‘the brew-ho1se: and when | suddenly call 
+you, come forth, and without any pause or 
+staggering take this basket on your shoulders: 
+that done, trudge with it in all haste, and 
+carry it among the whitsters in Datchet-mead, 
+and there empty it in the muddy ditch close 
+by the Thames side. 
+
+Mrs Page. You will do it? 
+
+Mrs Ford. \ ha’ told them over and over; 
+they lack no direction. Be gone, and come 
+when you are called. [Excunt Servants. 20 
+
+Mrs Page. Here comes little Robin. 
+
+
+Enter Rosin. 
+
+
+Mrs Ford. How now, my eyas-musket! 
+what news with you? 
+
+Rob. My master, Sir John, is come in at 
+your back-door, Mistress Ford, and requests 
+your company. 
+
+Mrs Page. You little Jack-a-Lent, have 
+you been true to us? 
+
+Robt. Ay, 1 Ilbe sworn. My master knows 
+- not of your being here and hath threatened to 
+put me into everlasting liberty if | tell you of 
+it; for he swears he'll turn me away. 
+
+Mrs Page. Thou’rt a good boy: this se- 
+crecy of thine shall be a tailor to thee and 
+shall make thee a new doublet and hose. I'll 
+go hide me. 
+
+Mrs Ford. Do so. Go tell thy master I 
+am alone, [Exit Robin.] Mistress Page, re- 
+member you your cue. 
+
+Mrs Page. | warrant thee; if I do not act 
+
+
+it, hiss me. [Exit. 41 
+Mrs Ford. Go to, then: we'll use this 
+unwholesome humidity, this gross watery 
+
+
+pumpion; we'll teach him to know turtles 
+from jays. 
+; Enter Fatstarr. 
+
+
+Fal. Have I caught thee, my heavenly 
+jewel? Why, now let me die, for I have lived 
+_ long enough: this is the period of my ambi- 
+
+tion: O this blessed hour! 
+
+Mrs Ford. O sweet Sir John! 49 
+
+Fal. Mistress Ford, I cannot cog, I cannot 
+prate, Mistress Ford. Now shall I sin in my 
+_ wish: I would thy husband were dead: I'll 
+speak it before the best lord; I would make 
+thee my lady. 
+
+Mrs Ford. | your lady, Sir John! alas, I 
+should be a pitiful lady! 
+
+Fal. Let the court of France show me 
+such another. I see how thine eye would em- 
+ulate the diamond: thou hast the right arched 
+beauty of the brow that becomes the ship- 
+
+
+tire, the tire-valiant, or any tire of Venetian 
+admittance. 6l 
+
+Mrs Ford. A plain kerchief, Sir John: 
+my brows become nothing else; nor that well 
+neither. 
+
+Fal. By the Lord, thou art a traitor to say 
+so: thou wouldst make an absolute courtier; 
+and the firm fixture of thy foot would give an 
+excellent motion to thy gait in a semi-circled 
+farthingale. I see what thou wert, if Fortune 
+thy foe were not, Nature thy friend. Come, 
+thou canst not hide it. 71 
+
+Mrs Ford. Believe me, there’s no such 
+thing in me. 
+
+Fal. What made me love thee? let thal 
+persuade thee there’s something extraordinary 
+in thee. Come, I cannot cog and say thou art 
+this and that, like a many of these lisping 
+hawthorn-buds, that come like women in men’s 
+apparel, and smell like Bucklersbury in sim- 
+ple time; I cannot: but I love thee; none but 
+thee; and thou deservest it. 8 
+
+Mrs Ford. Do not betray me, sir. | fear 
+you love Mistress Page. 
+
+Fal. Thou mightst as well say I love to 
+walk by the Counter-gate, which is as hateful 
+to me as the reek of a lime-kiln. 
+
+Mrs Ford. Well, heaven knows how I 
+love you; and you shall one day find it. 
+
+Fal. Keep in that mind; I'll deserve it. 
+
+Mrs Ford. Nay, 1 must tell you, so you 
+do; or else I could not be in that mind. 9] 
+
+Rob. [Within] Mistress Ford, Mistress 
+Ford! here’s Mistress Page at the door sweat- 
+ing and blowing and looking wildly, and 
+would needs speak with you presently. 
+
+Fal. She shall not see me: I will ensconce 
+me behind the arras. 
+
+Mrs Ford. Pray you, do so: she’s a very 
+tattling woman. [Falstaff hides himself. 
+
+
+Re-enter Mistress Pace and Rosin. 
+
+
+What's the matter? how now! 100 
+
+Mrs Page. O Mistress Ford, what have 
+you done? You're shamed, you're over- 
+thrown, you're undone for ever! 
+
+Mrs Ford. What's the matter, good Mis- 
+tress Page? 
+
+Mrs Page. O well-a-day, Mistress Ford! 
+having an honest man to your husband, to 
+give him such cause of suspicion! 
+
+Mrs Ford. What cause of suspicion? 
+
+Mrs Page. What cause of suspicion! Out 
+upon you! how am I mistook in you! III 
+
+Mrs Ford. Why, alas, what's the matter? 
+
+Mrs Page. Your husband's coming hither, 
+woman, with all the officers in Windsor, ta 
+search for a gentleman that he says is here 
+
+} now in the house by your consent, to take an 
+
+
+68 
+
+
+THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 
+
+
+x 
+
+
+[Acr III, Sc. Til 
+
+
+ill advantage of his absence: you are undone. 
+
+Mrs Ford. ‘Tis not so, I hope. 
+
+Mrs Page. Pray heaven it be not so, that 
+you have such a man here! but ‘tis most cer- 
+tain your husband’s coming, with half Wind- 
+sor at his heels, to search for such a one. I 
+come before to tell you. If you know your- 
+self clear, why, I am glad of it; but if you 
+have a friend here, convey, convey him out. 
+Be not amazed; call all your senses to you; 
+defend your reputation, or bid farewell to 
+your good life for ever. 
+
+Mrs Ford. What shall I do? There is a 
+gentleman my dear friend; and I fear not 
+mine own shame so much as his peril: I had 
+rather than a thousand pound he were out of 
+the house. 
+
+Mrs Page. For shame! never stand ‘you 
+had rather’ and ‘you had rather:’ your hus- 
+band’s here at hand; bethink you of some 
+conveyance; in the house you cannot hide him. 
+O, how have you deceived me! Look, here is 
+a basket: if he be of any reasonable stature, 
+he may creep in here; and throw foul linen 
+upon him, as if it were going to bucking: or— 
+it is whiting time—send him by your two men 
+t. Datchet-mead. . 141 
+
+Mrs Ford. He’s too big to go in there. 
+What shall I do? 
+
+Fal, [Coming forward] Let me see’t, let 
+me see’t, O, let me see’t! I'll in, I'll in. 
+Follow your friend’s counsel. I 'Il in. 
+
+Mrs Page. What, Sir John Falstaff! Are 
+these your letters, knight? 
+
+Fal. I love thee. Help me away. Let me 
+creep in here. I ‘Il never— 150 
+
+[Gets into the basket; they cover him 
+with foul linen. 
+
+Mrs Page. Help to cover your master, 
+boy. Call your men, Mistress Ford. You 
+dissembling knight! 
+
+Mrs. Ford. What, John! Robert! John! 
+
+[Exit Robin. 
+
+
+Re-enter Servants. 
+
+
+Go take up these clothes here quickly. 
+
+Where's the cowl-staff? look, how you drum- 
+
+ble! Carry them to the laundress in Datch- 
+
+et-mead; quickly, come. 
+
+Enter Forp, Pace, Caius, and Sir Hucu 
+Evans. 
+
+
+Ford. Pray you, come near: if I suspect 
+without cause, why then make sport at me; 
+then let me be your jest; I deserve it. How 
+now! whither bear you this? 
+
+Serv. To the laundress, forsooth. 
+
+Mrs Ford. Why, what have you to do 
+whither they bear it> You were best meddle 
+with buck-washing. 
+
+
+Ford. Buck! I would I could wash my- 
+self of the buck! Buck, buck, buck! Ay, 
+buck; I warrant you, buck; and of: the sea- 
+son too, it shall appear. [Exeunt Servants with 
+the basket.] Gentlemen, | have dreamed to- 
+night; I'll tell you my dream. Here, here, 
+here be my keys: ascend my chambers; 
+search, seek, find out: I Il warrant we'll un- 
+kennel the fox. Let me stop this way first. 
+[Locking the door.] So, now uncape. 
+
+Page. Good Master Ford, be contented; 
+you wrong yourself too much. 
+
+Ford. True, Master Page. Up, gentle- 
+men; you shall see sport anon: follow me, 
+
+
+gentlemen. [Exit, 
+Evans. This is fery fantastical humours 
+and jealousies. 
+Caius. By gar, ‘tis no the fashion of 
+
+
+France; it is not jealous in France. 
+
+Page. Nay, follow him, gentlemen; see 
+the issue of his search. 
+
+[Exeunt Page, Caius and Evans, 
+
+Mrs Page. Is there not a double excel- 
+lency in this? 
+
+Mrs Ford. 1 know not which pleases me 
+better, that my husband is deceived, or Sir 
+John. 
+
+Mrs Page. What a taking was he in when 
+your husband asked who was in the basket! 
+
+Mrs Ford. 1 am half afraid he will have 
+need of washing; so throwing him into the 
+water will do him a benefit. A 
+
+Mrs Page. Hang him, dishonest rascal! I 
+would all of the same’strain were in the same 
+distress. 
+
+Mrs Ford. | think my husband hath some 
+special suspicion of Falstaff's being here; for 
+I never saw him so gross in his jealousy till 
+now. 
+
+Mrs Page. I will lay a plot to try that; 
+and we will yet have more tricks with Fal- 
+staff: his dissolute disease will scarce obey 
+this medicine. 
+
+Mrs Ford. Shall we send that foolish car- 
+rion, Mistress Quickly, to him, and excuse his 
+throwing into the water; and give him an- 
+other hope, to betray him to another punish- 
+ment? 
+
+Mrs Page. We will do it: let him be sent 
+
+
+for to-morrow, eight o'clock, to have amends. 
+
+
+Re-enter Forp, Pace, Caius, and Sir HucH 
+Evans. 
+
+
+Ford. | cannot find him: may be the knaye 
+bragged of that he could not compass. 
+
+Mrs Page. [Aside to Mrs. Ford] Heard 
+you that? 
+
+Mrs Ford. You use me well, Master 
+Ford. do you? 
+
+
+Acz Ill, Sc. IV] 
+
+
+Ford. Ay, I do so. 
+
+_ Mrs Ford. Heaven make you better than 
+your thoughts! 
+Ford. Amen! 220 
+
+Mr: Page. You do yourself mighty wrong, 
+Master Ford. 
+
+Ford. Ay, ay; I must bear it. 
+
+Evans. If there be any pody in the house 
+and in the chambers, and in the coffers, and 
+in the presses, heaven forgive my sins at 
+the day of judgement! 
+
+Caius. By gar, nor I too: there is no 
+bodies. / 
+
+Page. Fie, fie, Master Ford! are you not 
+ashamed? What spirit, what devil suggests 
+this imagination? [| would not ha’ your dis- 
+temper in this kind for the wealth of Wind- 
+sor Castle. 
+
+Ford. “Tis my fault, Master Page: I suffer 
+for it. 
+
+Evans. You suffer for a pad conscience: 
+your wife is as honest a ‘omans as [| will de- 
+sires among five thousand, and five hundred 
+too. 
+
+Caius. By gar, I see ‘tis an honest woman. 
+
+Ford. Well, I promised you a dinner. 
+Come, come back in the Park: I pray you, 
+pardon me; | will hereafter make known to 
+you why I have done this. Come, wife; 
+come, Mistress Page. I pray you pardon me; 
+pray heartily, pardon me. 
+
+Page. Let's go in, gentlemen; but, trust 
+me, we'll mock him. I do invite you to-mor- 
+row morning to my house to breakfast: after, 
+we'll a-birding together; I have a fine hawk 
+for the bush. Shall it be so? 
+
+Ford. Any thing. 
+
+Evans. If there is one, I shall make two in 
+
+_ the company. 251 
+
+Caius. If dere be one or two, | shall make- 
+a the turd. 
+
+Ford. Pray you, go, Master Page. 
+
+Evans. I pray you now, remembrance to- 
+morrow on the lousy knave, mine host. 
+
+Caius. Dat is good; by gar, with all my 
+heart! 
+
+Evans. A lousy knave, to have his gibes 
+and his mockeries! [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. A room in Pace’s house. 
+Enter FENTON and ANNE Pace, 
+
+
+Fent. I see I cannot get thy father’s love; 
+Therefore no more turn me to him, sweet Nan. 
+Anne. Alas, how then? 
+Fent. Why, thou must be thyself. 
+He doth object I am too great of birth; 
+“And that, my state being gall’d with my ex- 
+pense, 
+
+
+THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 
+
+
+69 
+
+
+I seek to heal it only by his wealth: 
+Besides these, other bars he lays before me, 
+My riots past, my wild societies; 
+And tells me ‘tis a thing impossible 
+I should love thee but as a property. 
+
+Anne. May be he tells you true. 
+
+Fent. No, heaven so speed me in my time 
+
+to come! 
+Albeit I will confess thy father’s wealth 
+Was the first motive that I woo'd thee, Anne: 
+Yet, wooing thee, I found thee of more value 
+Than stamps in gold or sums in sealed bags; 
+And ’tis the very riches of thyself 
+That now I aim at. 
+
+Anne. Gentle Master Fenton, 
+Yet seek my father’s love; still seek it, sir: 
+If opportunity and humblest suit 20 
+Cannot attain it, why, then,—hark you hither! 
+
+[They converse apart. 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+Enter SHALLow, SLENDER, and MistREss 
+QUICKLY. 
+
+
+Shal. Break their talk, Mistress Quickly: 
+my kinsman shall speak for himself. 
+
+Slen. I'll make a shaft or a bolt on’t: 
+"slid, “tis but venturing. 
+
+Shal. Be not dismayed. 
+
+Slen. No, she shall not dismay me: I care 
+not for that, but that I am afeard. 
+
+Quick. Hark ye; Master Slender would 
+speak a word with you. 30 
+
+Anne. I come to him. [Aside] This is 
+
+my father’s choice. 
+O, what a world of vile ill-favour’d faults 
+Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a- 
+year! 
+
+Quick. And how does good Master Fen- 
+ton? Pray you, a word with you. 
+
+Shal. She's coming; to her, coz. O boy, 
+thou hadst a father! 
+
+Slen. I had a father, Mistress Anne; my 
+uncle can tell you good jests of him. Pray 
+you, uncle, tell Mistress Anne the jest, how 
+my father stole two geese out of a pen, good 
+uncle. 
+
+Shal. Mistress Anne, my cousin loves you. 
+
+Slen. Ay, that I do; as well as I love any 
+in Gloucestershire. 
+
+
+woman 
+
+Shal. He will maintain you like a gentle- 
+woman, 
+
+Slen. Ay, that I will, come cut and long- 
+
+
+tail, under the degree of a squire. 
+
+Shal. He will make you a hundred and 
+fifty pounds jointure. 50 
+
+Anne. Good Master Shallow, let him woo 
+for himself. 
+
+Shal. Marry, I thank you for it; I thank 
+you for that good comfort. She calls you, 
+coz: I'll leave you. 
+
+
+70 THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 
+
+
+‘[Acr III, Sc. V 
+
+
+Anne. Now, Master Slender,— 
+
+Slen. Now, good Mistress Anne,— 
+
+Anne. What is your will? 
+
+Slen. My will! ’od’s heartlings, that’s a 
+pretty jest indeed! I ne’er made my will yet, 
+I thank heaven; I am not such a sickly crea- 
+ture, I give heaven praise. 
+
+Anne. I mean, Master Slender, what would 
+you with me? 
+
+Slen. Truly, for mine own part, I would 
+little or nothing with you. Your father and 
+my uncle hath made motions: if it be my luck, 
+so; if not, happy man be his dole! They can 
+tell you how things go better than | can: you 
+may ask your father; here he comes, 70 
+
+
+Enter Pace and Mistress Pace. 
+
+
+Page. Now, Master Slender: love him, 
+
+daughter Anne. 
+
+Why, how now! what does Master Fenton 
+
+here? 
+
+You “wrong me, sir, thus still to haunt my 
+
+house: 
+
+1 told you, sir, my daughter is disposed of, 
+Fent. Nay, Master Page, be not impatient. 
+Mrs Page. Good Master Fenton, come 
+
+not to my child, 
+
+Page. She is no match for you. 
+
+Fent. Sir, will you hear me? 
+
+Page. No, good Master Fenton. 
+Come, Master Shallow; come, son Slender in. 
+Knowing my mind, you wrong me, Master 
+
+Fenton. [Exeunt Page, Shal., and Slen. 
+
+Quick. Speak to Mistress Page. 81 
+
+Fent, Good Mistress Page, for that I love 
+
+your daughter 
+
+In such a righteous. fashion as | do, 
+
+Perforce, against all checks, rebukes and 
+
+manners, 
+
+I must advance the colours of my love 
+
+And not retire: let me have your good will. 
+Anne. Good mother, do not marry me to 
+
+yond fool: 
+
+Mrs Page. 1 mean it not; I seek you a 
+
+better husband, 
+
+Quick. That's my master, master doctor. 
+
+Anne. Alas, I had rather be set quick 3’ 
+
+the earth - 
+
+And bowl’d to death with turnips! 
+
+Mrs Page. Come, trouble not yourself, 
+
+Good Master Fenton, 
+I will not be your friend nor enemy: r 
+My daughter will I question how she loves 
+
+
+you, 
+And as | find her, so am I affected. 
+Till then farewell, sir: she must needs go in; 
+Her father will be angry. 
+Fent. Farewell, gentle mistress; farewell, 
+
+
+Nan. {Exeunt Mrs Page and Anne, 
+
+
+Quick. This is my doing, now: ‘Nay,’ said 
+I, ‘will you cast away your child on a fool, 
+and a physician? Look on Master Fenton: 
+this is my doing. 102 
+
+Fent. 1 thank thee; and I pray thee, once 
+
+to-night 
+
+
+2 | Give my sweet Nan this ring: there’s for thy 
+
+
+pains. 
+
+Quick. Now heaven send thee good for- 
+tune! [Exit Fenton.] A kind heart he hath; 
+a woman would run through fire and water 
+for such a kind heart. But yet I would my 
+master had Mistress Anne; or I would Mas- 
+ter Slender had her; or, in sooth, I would 
+Master Fenton had her: I will do what I can 
+for them all three; for so I have promised, 
+and I'll be as good as my word; but spec- 
+iously for Master Fenton. Well, I must of 
+another errand to Sir John Falstaff from my 
+two mistresses: what a beast am I to slack it! 
+
+[Exit. 
+Scene V. A room in the Garter Inn, 
+Enter FatstarF and BaRDOLPH. 
+
+Fal. Bardolph, I say,— 
+
+Bard. Here, sir, 
+
+Fal. Go fetch me a quart of sack; put a 
+toast in't, [Exit Bard.] Have I lived to be 
+carried in a basket, like a barrow of butcher's 
+offal, and to be thrown in the Thames? Well, 
+if I be served such another trick, I "ll have my 
+brains ta’en out and buttered, and give them 
+to a dog for a new-year’s gift. The rogues 
+slighted me into the river with as little re- 
+morse as they would have drowned a blind 
+bitch’s puppies, fifteen i’ the litter: and you 
+may know by my size that I have a kind of 
+alacrity in sinking; if the bottom were as 
+deep as hell, I should down. I had been 
+drowned, but that the shore was shelvy and 
+shallow,—a death that | abhor; for the wa- 
+ter swells a man; and what a thing should I 
+have been, when I had been swelled! | 
+
+
+should have been a mountain of mummy, 
+Re-enter BaRDoLpH with sack. 
+Bard. WHere’s Mistress Quickly, sir, t 
+2\ 
+
+
+0 | speak with you. 
+
+
+Fal. Come, let me pour in some sack ty 
+the Thames water; for my belly’s as cold 
+as if I had swallowed snowballs for pills to 
+cool the reins. Call her mm. 
+
+Bard. Come in, woman! 
+
+
+Enter Mistress Quickty. 
+
+
+Quick. By your leave; I cry you mercy: 
+giv- your worship good morrow. 
+
+Fal. Take away these chalices, Go brew 
+me a pottle of sack finely. 30 
+
+
+SS ene 
+av Be SO ial : 
+
+
+- Act Ill, Se. V] THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 71 
+
+
+Bard. With eggs, sir? 
+| Fal, Simple of itself; I'll no pullet-sperm 
+in my brewage. [Exit Bardolph.| How now! 
+Quick. Marry, sir, | come to your worship 
+from Mistress Ford. 
+
+Fal.. Mistress Ford! I have had ford 
+enough; I was thrown into the ford; I have 
+my belly full of ford. 
+
+Quick. Alas the day! good heart, that 
+was not her fault: she does so take on with 
+~her men; they mistook their erection. 4l 
+
+Fal. So did I mine, to build upon a fool- 
+ish woman's promise. 
+
+Quick. Well, she laments, sir, for it, that 
+it would yearn your heart to see it. Her 
+husband goes this morning a-birding; she de- 
+sires you once more to come to her between 
+eight and nine: I must carry her word 
+quickly: she'll make you amends, | warrant 
+you. 
+
+_ Fal. Well, I will visit her: tell her so; 
+and bid her think what a man is: let her con- 
+sider his frailty, and then judge of my merit. 
+
+Quick. I will tell her. 
+
+Fal. Do so. Between nine and ten, sayest 
+thou? 
+
+- Quick. Eight and nine, sir. 
+
+Fal. Well, be gone: I will not miss her. 
+
+Quick. Peace be with you, sir. [Exit. 
+
+Fal. I marvel I hear not of Master Brook; 
+he sent me word to stay within: i like his 
+money well. O, here he comes. 60 
+
+
+Enier Forp. 
+
+
+Ford. Bless you, sir! 
+
+Fal. Now, Master Brook, you come to 
+know what hath passed between me and 
+Ford’s wife? 
+
+Ford. That, indeed, Sir John, is my busi- 
+ness. 
+
+Fals Master Brook, I will not lie to you; 
+I was at her house the hour she appointed me. 
+
+Ford. And sped you, sir? 
+
+Fal. Very ill-favouredly, Master Brook. 
+
+Ford. How so, sir? Did she change her de- 
+termination > 70 
+
+Fal. No, Master Brook; but the peaking 
+Cornuto her husband, Master Brook, dwell- 
+ing in a continual ‘larum of jealousy, comes 
+me in the instant of our encounter, after we 
+had embraced, kissed, protested, and, as it 
+were, spoke the prologue of our comedy; and 
+at his-heels a rabble of his companions, thith- 
+er provoked and instigated by his distemper, 
+and forsooth, to search his house for his wife’s 
+ove. 
+
+Ford. What, while you were there? 80! 
+
+Fal, While I was there. : 
+
+
+Ford. And did he search for you, and 
+
+could not find you? 
+« Fal, You shall hear, As good luck would 
+have it, comes in one Mistress Page; gives in- 
+telligence of Ford's approach; and, in her in- 
+vention and Ford’s wife’s distraction, they con- 
+veyed me into a buck-basket. 
+
+Ford. A buck-basket! 39 
+
+Fal. By the Lord, a buck-basket! rammed 
+me in with foul shirts and smocks, socks, foul 
+stockings, greasy napkins; that, Master Brook, 
+there was the rankest compound of villanous 
+smell that ever offended nostril. 
+
+Ford. And how long lay you there? 
+
+Fal. Nay, you shall hear, Master Brook, 
+what I have suffered to bring this woman to 
+evil for your good. Being thus crammed in the 
+basket, a couple of Ford's knaves, his hinds, 
+were called forth by their mistress to carry me 
+in the name of foul clothes to Datchet-lane: 
+they took me on their shoulders; met the jeal- 
+ous knave their master in the door, who asked 
+them once or twice what they had in their bas- 
+ket: I quaked for fear, lest the lunatic knave 
+would have searched it; but fate, ordainmg he 
+should be a cuckold, held his hand. Well: on 
+went he for a search, and away went I for foul 
+clothes. But mark the sequel, Master Brook: 
+I suffered the pangs of three several deaths; 
+first, an intolerable fright, to be detected with a 
+jealous rotten bell-wether; next, to be compas- 
+sed, like a good bilbo, in the circumference of 
+a peck, hilt to point, heel to head; and then, 
+to be stopped in, like a strong distillation, with 
+stinking clothes that fretted in their own grease: 
+think cf that——a man of my kidney,—think of 
+that,—that am as subject to heat as butter; a 
+man of continual dissolution and thaw: it was 
+a miracle to ‘scape suffocation. And in the 
+height of this bath, when I was more than half 
+stewed in grease, like a Dutch dish, to be 
+thrown into the Thames, and cooled, glowing 
+hot, in that surge, like a horse-shoe; think of 
+that,—hissing hot,—think of that, Master 
+Brook. 
+
+Ford. In good sadness, sir, | am sorry that 
+for my sake you have suffered all this, My suit 
+then is desperate; you'll undertake her no 
+more > 
+
+Fal. Master Brook, I wilt be thrown into 
+Eima, as I have been into Thames, ere I will 
+leave her thus. Her husband is this morning 
+gone a-birding: I have received from her an- 
+other embassy of meeting; “twixt eight and 
+nine is the hour, Master Brook. 
+
+Ford. ‘Tis past eight already, sir. 
+
+Fal. {s it? I will then address me to my ap- 
+pointment. Come to me at your convenient 
+
+
+leisure, and you shall know how I speed; and 
+
+
+72 THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. I 
+
+
+the conclusion shall be crowned with your en- 
+joying her. Adieu. You shall have her, Mas- 
+ter Brook; Master Brook, you shall cuckold 
+Ford. [Exit. 
+
+Ford. Hum! ha! is this a vision? is this a 
+dream? do I sleep? Master Ford, awake! 
+awake, Master Ford! there’s a hole made in 
+your best coat, Master Ford. This ‘tis to be 
+married! this ‘tis to have linen and buck-bas- 
+kets! Well, I will proclaim myself what I am: 
+T will now take the lecher; he is at my house; 
+he cannot 'scape me; ‘tis impossible he should; 
+he cannot creep into a halfpenny purse, nor in- 
+to a pepper-box: but, lest the devil that guides 
+him should aid him, I will search impossible 
+places. Though what I am I cannot avoid, yet 
+to be what I would not shall not make me tame: 
+if I have horns to make one mad, let the prov- 
+erb go with me: I'll be horn-mad. [Exit. 
+
+
+ACT IV. 
+A street. 
+
+
+Enter Mistress Pace, Mistress QUICKLY, 
+and WILLIAM. 
+
+
+Mrs Page. Is he at Master Ford's already, 
+think’st thou? 
+
+Quick. Sure he is by this, or will be pres- 
+ently: but, truly, he is very courageous mad 
+about his throwing into the water. Mistress 
+Ford desires you to come suddenly. 
+
+Mrs Page. I'll be with her by and by; I ‘ll 
+but bring my young man here to school. Look, 
+where his master comes; ‘tis a playing-day, 
+I see. 
+
+
+Scene I. 
+
+
+Enter Sir Hucu Evans. 
+low now, Sir Hugh! no school to-day? 10 
+
+Evans. No; Master Slender is let the boys 
+leave to plav. 
+
+Quick. Blessing of his heart! 
+
+Mrs Page. Sir Hugh, my husband says 
+my son profits nothing in the world at his 
+book. I pray you, ask him some questions in 
+his accidence- 
+
+Evans. Come hither, William; hold up 
+your head; come. 
+
+Mrs Page. Come on, sirrah; hold up your 
+head; answer your master, be not afraid. 20 
+
+Evans. William, how many numbers is in 
+
+
+nouns > 
+
+Will. Two. 
+
+Quick. Truly, I thought there had been one 
+number more, because they say, *’Od’s nouns.’ 
+
+Evans. Peace your tattlings! What is ‘fair,’ 
+William? 
+
+Will. Pulcher. 
+
+Quick. Polecats! there are fairer things 
+than polecats, sure. 
+
+
+Evans, You are a very simplicity ‘oman; | 
+pray you, peace. What is ‘lapis,’ William? 
+
+Will. A stone. 
+
+Evans. And what is ‘a stone,” William? 
+
+Will. A pebble. 
+
+Evans, No, it is ‘lapis:' I pray you, remem: 
+ber in your prain, 
+
+Will. Lapis. 
+
+Evans. That is a good William. What is 
+he, William, that does lend articles? 40 
+
+Will. Articles are borrowed of the pro- 
+noun, and be thus declined, Singulariter, nom- 
+inativo, hic, hac, hoc. 
+
+Evans. Nominativo, hig, hag, hog; pray 
+you, mark: genitivo, hujus. Well, what is 
+your accusative case? 
+
+Will. Accusativo, hinc. 
+
+Evans. I pray you, have your remembrance, 
+child; accusativo, hung, hang, hog. 
+
+Quick. ‘Hang-hog’ is Latin for bacon, | 
+warrant you. 51 
+
+Evans, Leave your prabbles, *oman. What 
+is the focative case, William? 
+
+Will. O.—vocativo, O. 
+
+Evans, Remember, William; focative is 
+caret. 
+
+
+Quick. And that’s a good root, 
+
+
+Evans. ‘Oman, forbear. 
+
+Mrs Page. Peace! 
+
+Evans. What is your genitive case plural, 
+William > 
+
+Will. Genitive case! 
+
+Evans, Ay. 
+
+Will. Genitive—horum, harum, horum. 
+
+
+Quick. Vengeance of Jenny’s case! fie on 
+her! never name her, child, if she be a whore. 
+
+Evans. For shame, ‘oman. 
+
+Quick. You do ill to teach the child such 
+words: he teaches him to hick and to hack, 
+which they'll do fast enough of themselves, and 
+to call ‘horum:’ fie upon you! 70 
+
+Evans, ‘Oman, art thou lunatics? hast thou 
+no understandings for thy cases and the num> 
+bers of the genders? Thou art as foolish 
+Christian creatures as I would desires, 
+
+Mrs Page. Prithee, hold thy peace. 
+
+Evans, Show me now, William, some de- 
+clensions of your pronouns. 
+
+Will. Forsooth, I have forgot. 
+
+Evans. It is qui, que, quod: if you forget 
+your “quies,” your ‘ques,’ and your ‘quods,” 
+you must be preeches. Go your ways, and 
+play; go. 
+
+Mrs Page. 
+thought he was. 
+
+Evans. He is a good sprag memory. Fare- 
+well, Mistress Page. 
+
+Mrs Page. Adieu, good Sir Hugh. 
+
+JExit Sir Hugh} 
+
+
+He is a better scholar than I 
+
+
+Acr IV, Sc. Il] 
+
+
+THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 
+
+
+2B 
+
+
+too long. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+A room in Forp’s house. 
+
+
+Get you home, boy. Come, we stay 
+
+
+Scene II. 
+Enter FatstaFF and Mistress Foro. 
+
+
+Fal. Mistress Ford, your sorrow hath eaten 
+up my sufferance. I see you are obsequious in 
+your love, and I profess requital to a hair's 
+breadth; not only, Mistress Ford, in the simple 
+office of love, but in all the accoutrement, 
+complement and ceremony of it. But are you 
+sure of your husband now? ; 
+
+Mrs Ford. He’s a-birding, sweet Sir John. 
+
+Mrs Page. [Within] What, ho, gossip 
+Ford! what, ho!  ~ 1 
+
+Mrs Ford. Step into the chamber, Sir John. 
+
+[Exit Falstaff. 
+
+
+Enter Mistress Pace. 
+
+
+Mrs Page. How now, sweetheart! who's at 
+home besides yourself ? 
+
+Mrs Ford. Why, none but mine own people. 
+
+Mrs Page. Indeed! 
+
+Mrs Ford. No, certainly. [Aside to her] 
+Speak louder. 
+
+Mrs Page. Truly, I am so glad you have 
+nobody here. 
+
+Mrs Ford. Why? 20 
+
+Mrs Page. Why, woman, your husband is 
+in his old lunes again: he so takes on yonder 
+with my husband; so rails against all married 
+mankind; so curses all Eve's daughters, of 
+what complexion soever; and so buffets him- 
+self on the forehead, crying, ‘Peer out, peer 
+out!’ that any madness I ever yet beheld 
+seemed but tameness, civility and patience, to 
+this his distemper he is in now: I am glad the 
+fat knight is not here. 
+
+Mrs Ford. Why, does he talk of him? 30 
+
+Mrs Page. Of none but him; and swears 
+_he was carried out, the last time he searched 
+for him, in a basket; protests to my husband 
+he is now here, and hath drawn him and the 
+rest of their company from their sport to 
+make another experiment of his suspicion: but 
+I am glad the knight is not here; now he shall 
+see his own foolery. 
+
+Mrs Ford. How near ishe, Mistress Page? 
+
+Mrs Page. Hard by; at street end; he will 
+be here anon. 4] 
+
+Mrs Ford. | am undone! The knight is 
+here. 
+
+Mrs Page. Why then you are utterly 
+shamed, and he’s but a dead man. What a 
+woman are you!—Away with him, away with 
+him! better shame than murder. 
+
+Mrs Ford. Which way should he go? how 
+should I bestow him? Shall I put him into 
+the basket again? 
+
+
+Re-enter FALSTAFF. 
+
+Fal. No, I'll come no more i’ the basket. 
+May I not go out ere he come? 51 
+
+Mrs Page. Alas, three of Master Ford's 
+brothers watch the door with pistols, that none 
+shall issue out; otherwise you might slip away 
+ere he came. But what make you here? 
+
+Fal. What shall { do? I'll creep up into 
+the chimney. 
+
+Mrs Ford. There they always use to dis- 
+charge their birding-pieces. Creep into the 
+kiln-hole. 
+
+Fal. Where is it? 60 
+
+Mrs Ford. He will seek there, on my word. 
+Neither press, coffer, chest, trunk, well, vault, 
+but he hath an abstract for the remembrance of 
+such places, and goes to them by his note: 
+there is no hiding you in the house. 
+
+Fal. 1'll go out then. 
+
+Mrs Page. If you go out in your own sem- 
+blance, you die, Sir John. Unless you go out 
+disguised — 69 
+
+Mrs Ford. How might we disguise him > 
+
+Mrs Page. Alas the day, I know not! 
+There is no woman's gown big enough for him; 
+otherwise he might put on a hat, a muffler and 
+a kerchief, and so escape. 
+
+Fal. Good hearts, devise something; any 
+extremity rather than a mischief. 
+
+Mrs Ford. My maid's aunt, the fat woman 
+of Brentford, has a gown above. 
+
+Mrs Page. On my word, it will serve him; 
+she’s as big as he is: and there's her thrummed 
+hat and her muffler too. Run up, Sir John. 
+
+Mrs Ford. Go, go, sweet Sir John: Mistress 
+Page and I will look some linen for your head. 
+
+Mrs Page. Quick, quick! we'll come dress 
+you straight: put on the gown the while. 81 
+
+[Exit Falstaff. 
+
+Mrs Ford. 1 would my husband would meet 
+him in this shape: he cannot abide the old 
+woman of Brentford; he swears she’s a witch; 
+forbade her my house and hath threatened to 
+beat her. 
+
+Mrs Page. Heaven guide him to thy hus- 
+band’s cudgel, and the devil guide his cudgel 
+afterwards! 
+
+Mrs Ford. But is my husband coming? 
+
+Mrs Page. Ay, in good sadness, is he; and 
+talks of the basket too, howsoever he hath had 
+intelligence. 
+
+Mrs Ford. We'll try that; for I'll appoint 
+my men to carry the basket again, to meet him 
+at the door with it, as they did last time. 
+
+Mrs Page. Nay, but he'll be here presently : 
+let's go dress him like the witch of Brentford. 
+
+Mrs Ford. I'll first direct my men what 
+they shall do with the basket. Go up; I'll 
+pring linen for him straight. [Exit. 
+
+
+i4 THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 
+
+
+Mrs Page. Hang him, dishonest varlet! we 
+
+cannot misuse him enough. 
+
+We'll leave a proof, by that which we will do, 
+
+Wives may be merry, and yet honest too: 
+
+We do not act that often jest and laugh; 
+
+*Tis old, but true, Still swine eats all the draff. 
+[Exit. 
+
+
+Re-enter Mistress Forp with two Servants. 
+
+
+Mrs Ford. Go, sirs, take the basket again 
+on your shoulders: your master is hard at 
+door; if he bid you set it down, obey him: 
+quickly, dispatch. [Exit. 
+
+First Serv. Come, come, take it up, 
+
+Sec. Serv, Pray heaven it be not full of 
+knight again. 
+
+First Serv. I hope not; I had as lief bear 
+so much lead. 
+
+
+Enter Forp, Pace, SHaLLow, Caius, and 
+Sir HucuH Evans. 
+
+
+Fora. Ay, but if it prove true, Master Page, 
+have you any way then to unfool me again? 
+Set down the basket, villain! Somebody call 
+my wife. Youth in a basket! O you pandarly 
+rascals! there’s a knot, a ging, a pack, a con- 
+spiracy against me: now shall the devil be 
+shamed. What, wife, I say! Come, come 
+forth! Behold what honest clothes you send 
+forth to bleaching! 
+
+Page. Why, this passes, Master Ford; you 
+are not to go loose any longer; you must be 
+pinioned. 
+
+Evans. Why, this is lunatics! this is mad as 
+a mad dog. 131 
+
+Shal. Indeed, Master Ford, this is not well, 
+indeed. 
+
+Ford. So say I too, sir. 
+
+
+Re-enter Mistress Forp, 
+Come hither, Mistress Ford; Mistress Ford, the 
+
+
+honest woman, the modest wife, the virtuous 
+creature, that hath the jealous fool to her hus- 
+band! I suspect without cause, mistress, do |? 
+
+Mrs Ford. Heaven be my witness you do, 
+if you suspect me in any dishonesty. 140 
+
+Ford. Well said, brazen-face! hold it out. 
+Come forth, sirrah! 
+
+[Pulling clothes out of the basket. 
+
+Page. This passes! 
+
+Mrs Ford. Are you not ashamed? let the 
+clothes alone. 
+
+Ford. | shall find you anon. 
+
+Evans. "Tis unreasonable! Will you take 
+up your wife’s clothes? Come away. 
+
+Ford. Empty the basket, 1 say! 
+
+Mrs Ford. Why, man, why? 150 
+
+
+Ford. Master Page, as | am 2 man, there was 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc. It 
+
+
+as 
+
+
+one conveyed out of my house yesterday in 
+this basket: why may not he be there again? 
+In my house I am sure he is: my intelligence 
+is true; my jealousy is reasonable. Pluck me 
+out all the linen. 
+
+Mrs Ford. If you find a man there, he shall 
+die a flea’s death. 
+
+Page. Here’s no man. 
+
+Shal. By my fidelity, this is not well, Mas- 
+ter Ford; this wrongs you. 16] 
+
+Evans. Master Ford, you must pray, and 
+not follow the imaginations of your own heart: 
+this is jealousies. 
+
+Page. No, nor nowhere else but in your 
+brain, 
+
+Ford. Help to search my house this one 
+time. If I find not what I seek show no colour 
+for my extremity; let me for ever be your ta- 
+ble-sport; let them say of me, “As jealous as 
+Ford, that searched a hollow walnut for his 
+wife’s leman.’ Satisfy me once more; once 
+more search with me. 
+
+Mrs Ford. What, ho, Mistress Page! come 
+you and the old woman down; my husband 
+will come into the chamber. ; 
+
+Ford. Old woman! what old woman's that? 
+
+Mrs Ford. Why, it is my maid’s aunt of 
+Brentford. 179 
+
+Ford. A witch, a quean, an old cozening 
+guean! Have I not forbid her my house? She 
+comes of errands, does she? We are simple 
+men; we do not know what's brought to pass 
+under the profession of fortune-telling. She 
+works by charms, by spells, by the figure, and 
+such daubery as this is, beyond our element: 
+we know nothing. Come down, you witch, 
+you hag, you; come down, | say! 
+
+
+Mrs Ford. Nay, good, sweet husband! Good. 
+
+
+gentlemen, let him not strike the old woman. 
+
+
+Re-enter FALSTAFF in woman's clothes, and 
+Mistress PAGE, 
+
+
+Mrs. Page. Come, Mother Prat; come, give 
+me your hand, 
+
+Ford. I'll prat her. [Beating him] Out of 
+my door, you witch, you hag, you baggage, 
+you polecat, you ronyon! out, out! I "ll conjure 
+you, I ’ll fortune-tell you. [Exit Falstaff. 
+
+Mrs Page. Are you not ashamed? J think 
+you have killed the poor woman. 
+
+Mrs Ford. Nay, he will do it. "Tis a 
+goodly credit for you. 200 
+
+Ford. Hang her, witch! 
+
+Evans. By yea and no, I think the ‘oman is 
+a witch indeed: I like not when a ‘oman has 
+a great peard; I spy a great peard under his 
+muffler. 
+
+Ford. Will you follow, gentlemen? I be- 
+
+
+E. 
+
+
+off; Till sauce them. Come. 
+
+
+meas a ala y 
+
+
+Acr IV, Sc. IH] 
+
+
+THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 
+
+
+75 
+
+
+seech you, follow; see but the issue of my 
+jealousy: if I cry out thus upon no trail, never 
+trust me when I open again. 
+
+Page. Let’s obey his humour a little further: 
+come, gentlemen. 211 
+[Exeunt Ford, Page, Shal., Caius, and Evans. 
+
+Mrs Page. Trust me, he beat him most 
+pitifully, 
+
+Mrs Ford. Nay, by the mass, that he did 
+not; he beat him most unpitifully, methought. 
+
+Mrs Page. "ll have the cudgel hallowed 
+
+and hung o’er the altar; it hath done merito- 
+rious service. 
+. Mrs Ford. What think you? may we, with 
+the warrant of womanhood and the witness of 
+a good conscience, pursue him with any 
+further revenge? 
+
+Mrs Page. The spirit of wantonness is, 
+sure, scared out of him: if the devil have him 
+not in fee-simple, with fine and recovery, he 
+will never; I think, in the way of waste, at- 
+tempt us again. 
+
+Mrs Ford. Shall we tell our husbands how 
+we have served him? 229 
+
+Mrs Page. Yes, by all means; if it be but 
+to scrape the figures out of your husband's 
+brains. If they can find in their hearts the 
+poor unvirtuous fat knight shall be any 
+further afflicted, we two will still be the 
+ministers. 
+
+Mrs Ford. 1'll warrant they'll have him 
+publicly shamed: and methinks there would be 
+no period to the jest, should he not be publicly 
+shamed. 
+
+Mrs Page. Come, to the forge with it then; 
+shape it: I would not have things cool. 
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+Scene III. A room in the Garter Inn. 
+
+Enter Host and Barpoipn. 
+
+Bard. Sir, the Germans desire to have three 
+of your horses: the duke himself will be to- 
+ay at court, and they are going to meet 
+‘im. 
+
+Host. What duke should that be comes so 
+secretly? I hear not of him in the court. Let 
+me speak with the gentlemen: they speak 
+English ? 
+
+Bard. Ay, sir; I'll call them to you. 9 
+
+Host. They shall have my horses; but I ‘Il 
+make them pay; I'll sauce them: they have 
+had my house a week at command; I have 
+turned away my other guests: they must come 
+[Exeunt, 
+
+Scene IV. A room in Forv’s house. 
+Enter Pace, Forp, Mistress Pace, Mis- 
+: TRESS ForD, and Sir HucH Evans. 
+
+Evans. "Tis one of the best discretions of a 
+
+‘oman as ever I did laok upon. 
+
+
+Page. And did he send you both these let- 
+ters at an instant? 
+
+Mrs Page. Within a quarter of an hour. 
+
+Ford. Pardon me, wife. Henceforth do 
+
+what thou wilt; 
+
+I rather will suspect the sun with cold 
+
+Than thee with wantonness: now doth thy 
+honour stand, 
+
+In him that was of late an heretic, 
+
+As firm as faith. 
+
+Page. Tis well, ‘tis well; no more: 10 
+Be not as extreme in submission 
+As in offence. 
+
+But let our plot go forward: let our wives 
+Yet once again, to make us public sport, 
+Appoint a meeting with this old fat fellow, 
+Where we may take him and disgrace him for it. 
+
+Ford. There is no better way than that 
+they spoke of. 
+
+Page, How? to send him word they'll meet 
+him in the park at midnight? Fie, fie! he'll 
+never come. 
+
+Evans. You say he has been thrown in the 
+rivers and has been grievously peaten as an old 
+‘oman: methinks there should be terrors in him 
+that he should not come; methinks his flesh is 
+punished, he shall have no desires. 
+
+Page. So think I too. 
+
+Mrs Ford. Devise but how you'll use him 
+
+when he comes, 
+And let us two devise to bring him thither. 
+
+Mrs Page. There is an old tale goes that 
+
+Herne the hunter, 
+Sometime a keeper here in Windsor forest, 
+Doth all the winter-time, at still midnight, 30 
+Walk round about an oak, with great rage’d 
+
+
+horns; 
+
+And there he blasts the tree and takes the 
+cattle 
+
+And makes milch-kine yield blood and shakes 
+a chain 
+
+
+In a most hideous and dreadful manner: 
+You have heard of such a spirit, and well you 
+know 
+The superstitious idle-headed eld 
+Received and did deliver to our age 
+This tale of Herne the hunter for a truth. 
+Page. Why, yet there want not many that 
+o fear 
+In deep of night to walk by this Herne’s oak: 
+But what of this? 
+Mrs Ford. Marry, this is our device; 
+That Falstaff at that oak shall meet with us. 
+Page. Well, let it not be doubted but he’l! 
+come: 
+And in this shape when you have brought 
+him thither, 
+What shall be done with him? what is your 
+plot? 
+
+
+76 
+
+
+THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. V 
+
+
+Mrs Page. That likewise have we thought 
+upon, and thus: 
+Nan Page my daughter and my little son 
+And three or four more of their growth we'll 
+dress 
+Like urchins, ouphes and fairies, green and 
+white, 
+With rounds of waxen tapers on their heads, 50 
+And rattles in their hands: upon a sudden, 
+As Falstaff, she and I, are newly met, 
+Let them from forth a sawpit rush at once 
+With some diffused song: upon their sight, 
+~We two in great amazedness will fly: 
+Then let them all:encircle him about 
+And, fairy-like, to pinch the unclean knight, 
+And ask him why, that hour of fairy revel, 
+In their so sacred paths he dares to tread 
+In shape profane. 
+
+Mrs Ford. And till he tell the truth, 60 
+Let the supposed fairies pinch him sound 
+And burn him with their tapers. 
+
+Mrs Page. The truth being known, 
+We'll all present ourselves, dis-horn the spirit, 
+And mock him home to Windsor. 
+
+Ford. The children must 
+Be practised well to this, or they'll ne’er do’t. 
+
+Evans. I will teach the children their be- 
+haviours; and I will be like a jack-an-apes 
+also, to burn the knight with my taber. 
+
+Ford. That will be excellent. I ‘Il go buy 
+them vizards. 7 
+
+Mrs Page. My Nan shall be the queen of 
+
+all the fairies, 
+Finely attired in a robe of white. 
+
+Page. That silk will I go buy. [Aside] And 
+
+in that time 
+Shall Master Slender steal my Nan away 
+And marry her at Eton. Go send to Falstaff 
+straight. 
+Ford. Nay, I'll to him again in name of 
+Brook: 
+He'll tell me all his purpose: sure, he ‘Il come. 
+Mrs Page. Fear not you that. Go get us 
+properties 
+And tricking for our fairies. 
+Evans, -Let us about it: it is admirable 
+pleasures and fery honest knaveries. 81 
+[Exeunt Page, Ford, and Evans. 
+Mrs Page. Go, Mistress Ford, 
+Send quickly to Sir John, to know his mind. 
+[Exit Mrs Ford. 
+I "ll to the doctor: he hath my good will. 
+And none but he, to marry with Nan Page. 
+That Slender, though well landed, is an idiot; 
+And he my husband best of all affects. 
+The doctor is well money'd and his friends 
+Potent at court: he, none but he, shall have her, 
+Though twenty thousand worthier come to 
+crave her. (Exit. 90 
+
+
+Scene V. A room in the Garter Inn. 
+Enter Host and Simpte. 
+
+
+Host. What wouldst thou have, boor? what, 
+thick-skin? speak breathe, discuss; brief, 
+short, quick, snap. 
+
+Sim. Marry, sir, I come to speak with Sir 
+John Falstaff from Master Slender. 
+
+Host. There’s his chamber, his house, his 
+castle, his standing-bed and truckle-bed; ‘tis 
+painted about with the story of the Prodigal, 
+fresh’ and new. Go knock and call; he'll 
+speak like an Anthropophaginian unto thee: 
+knock, I say. 11 
+
+Sim, There’s an old woman, a fat woman, 
+gone up into his chamber. I Il be so bold as 
+stay, sir, till she come down; I come to speak 
+with her, indeed. 
+
+Host. Ha! a fat woman! the knight may be 
+robbed; I'll call. Bully knight! bally Sir 
+John! speak from thy lungs military: art thou 
+there? it is thine host, thine Ephesian, calls. 
+
+Fal. [Above] How now, mine host! 20 
+
+Host. Here’s a Bohemian-Tartar tarries the 
+coming down of thy fat woman. Let her de- 
+scend, bully, let her descend; my chambers 
+are honourable: fie! privacy? fie! 
+
+
+Enter FALSTAFF. 
+
+
+Fal. There was, mine host, an old fat wom- 
+
+
+0| an even now with me! but she’s gone. 
+
+
+Sim. Pray you, sir, was't not the wise wom- 
+an of Brentford? 
+
+Fal, Ay, marry, was it, mussel-shell: what 
+would you with her? 
+
+Sim. My master, sir, Master Slender,. sent 
+to her, seeing her go thorough the streets, to 
+know, sir, whether one Nym, sir, that beguiled 
+him of a chain, had the chain or no. 
+
+Fal. I spake with the old woman about it. 
+
+Sim. And what says she, I pray, sir? 
+
+Fal. Marry, she says that the very same 
+man that beguiled Master Slender of his 
+chain cozened him of it. 
+
+Sim. I would I could have spoken with the 
+woman herself; I had other things to have 
+spoken with her too from him. 
+
+Fal. What are they? let us know. 
+
+Host. Ay, come; quick. 
+
+Sim. I may not conceal them, sir. 
+
+Host. Conceal them, or thou diest. 
+
+Sim. Why, sir, they were nothing but about 
+Mistress Anne Page; to know if it were my 
+master’s fortune to have her or no. 
+
+Fal, ‘Tis, ‘tis his fortune. 50 
+
+Sim. What, sir? 
+
+Fal. To have her, or no. Go; say the 
+woman told me so. 
+
+Sim. May I be bold to say so, sir? 
+
+
+: 
+
+
+7] 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. VI] 
+
+
+THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 
+
+
+77 
+
+
+Fal. Ay, sir; like who more bold. 
+
+Sim. 1 thank your worship: I shall make 
+my master glad with these tidings. [Exit. 
+
+Host. Thou art clerkly, thou art clerkly, Sir 
+John. Was there a wise woman with thee? 
+
+Fal. Ay, that there was, mine host; one that 
+hath taught me more wit than ever I learned 
+before in my life; and I paid nothing for it 
+neither, but was paid for my learning. 
+
+
+Enter BARDOLPH. 
+
+
+Bard. Out, alas, sir! cozenage, mere coz- 
+enage! 
+
+Host. Where be my horses? speak well of 
+them, varletto. , 
+
+Bard. Run away with the cozeners; for so 
+soon as I came beyond Eton, they threw me off 
+from behind one of them, in a slough of mire; 
+and set spurs and away, like three German 
+devils, three Doctor Faustuses. 71 
+
+Host. They are gone but to meet the duke, 
+_ villain: do not say they be fled; Germans are 
+honest men. 
+
+
+Enter Sir Hucu Evans. 
+
+
+Evans, Where is mine host? 
+
+Host. What is the matter, sir? 
+
+Evans. Have a care of your entertainments: 
+there is a friend of mine come to town, tells me 
+there is three cozen-germans that has cozened 
+all the hosts of Readins, of Maidenhead, of 
+Colebrook, of horses and money. | tell you for 
+good will, look you: you are wise and full of 
+gibes and vlouting-stocks, and ‘tis not conven- 
+fent you should be cozened. Fare you well. 
+
+[Exit 
+Enter Docror Catus. 
+
+Caius. Vere is mine host de Jarteer? 
+
+Host. Here, master doctor, in perplexity 
+and doubtful dilemma. 
+
+Cauis. I cannot tell vat is dat: but it is 
+tell-a me dat you make grand preparation for 
+a duke de Jamany: by my trot, dere is no 
+‘duke dat the court is know to come. I tell you 
+for good vill: adieu. [Exit. 91 
+
+Host. Hue and cry, villain, go! Assist me, 
+knight, I am undone! Fly, run, hue and cry, 
+villain! I am undone! [Exeunt Host and Bard. 
+
+Fal. I would all the world might be cozened; 
+for J] have been cozened and beaten too. If it 
+should come to the ear of the court, how I have 
+been transformed and how my transformation 
+‘hath been washed and cudgelled, they would 
+“melt me out of my fat drop. by drop and liquor 
+‘fishermen’s boots with me: I warrant they would 
+whip me with their fine wits till I were as 
+crestfallen as a dried pear. I never prospered 
+-since I forswore myself at primero. Well, if | 
+-my wind were but long enough to say my 
+rprayers, I would reven+. 
+
+
+Enter MistREss QUICKLY. 
+
+
+Now, whence come you? 
+
+Quick. From the two parties, forsooth. 
+
+Fal. The devil take one party and his dam 
+the other! and so they shall be both bestowed. 
+I have suffered more for their sakes, more than 
+the villanous inconstancy of man’s disposition 
+is able to bear. 
+
+Quick. And have not they suffered? Yes, I 
+warrant; speciously one of them; Mistress 
+Ford, good heart, is beaten black and blue, 
+that you cannot see a white spot about her. 
+
+Fal. What tellest thou me of black and 
+blue? I was beaten myself into all the colours 
+of the rainbow; and I was like to be appre- 
+hended for the witch of Brentford: but that 
+my admirable dexterity of wit, my counterfeit- 
+ing the action of an old woman, delivered me, 
+the knave constable had set me 1’ the stocks, i’ 
+the common stocks, for a witch. 
+
+Quick. Sir, let me speak with you in your 
+chamber: you shall hear how things go; and, I 
+warrant, to your content. Here is a letter will 
+say somewhat. Good hearts, what ado here is to 
+bring you together! Sure, one of you does not 
+serve heaven well, that you are so crossed. 130 
+
+Fal. Come up into my chamber. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+ScENE VI. Another room in the Garter 
+Inn. 
+Enter FENTON and Host. 
+
+
+Host. Master Fenton, talk not to me; my 
+mind is heavy: I will give over all. 
+Fent, Yet hear me speak. Assist me in my 
+purpose, 
+And, as I am a gentleman, I ‘Il give thee 
+A hundred pound in gold more than your loss. 
+Host. 1 will hear you, Master Fenton; and 
+I will at the least keep your counsel. 
+Fent, From time to time | have acquainted 
+
+
+you 
+With the dear love I bear to fair Anne Page; 
+Who mutually hath answer'd my affection, 10 
+So far forth as herself might be her chooser, 
+Even to my wish: I have a letter from her 
+Of such contents as you will wonder at; 
+The mirth whereof so larded with my matter, 
+That neither singly can be manifested, 
+Without the show of both; fat Falstaff 
+Hath a great scene: the image of the jest 
+I "ll show you here at large. Hark, good mine 
+host. 
+To-night at Herne’s oak, just ‘twixt twelve 
+and one, 
+Must my sweet Nan present the Fairy Queen; 
+The purpose why, is here: in which disgutce, 
+While other jests are something rank on foot, 
+Her father hath commanded her to slip 
+Away with Slender and with him at Eton 
+
+
+78 
+
+
+THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 
+
+
+Immediately to marry: she hath consented: 
+
+Now, sir, 
+
+Her mother, ever strong against that match 
+
+And firm for Doctor Caius, hath appointed 
+
+That he shall likewise shuffle her away, 
+
+While other sports are tasking of their minds, 30 
+
+And at the deanery, where a priest attends, 
+
+Straight marry her: to this her mother’s plet 
+
+She seemingly obedient likewise hath 
+
+Made promise to the doctor. Now, thus it rests: 
+
+Her father means she shall be all in white, 
+
+And in that habit, when Slender sees his time 
+
+To take her by the hand and bid her go, 
+
+She shall go with him: her mother hath in- 
+tended, 
+
+The better to denote her to the doctor, 
+
+For they must all be mask’d and vizarded, 40 
+
+‘That quaint in green she shall be loose enrobed, 
+
+
+With ribands pendent, flaring “bout her head: | 
+
+
+And when the doctor spies his vantage ripe, 
+To pinch her by the hand, and, on that token, 
+The maid hath given consent to go with him. 
+Host. Which means she to deceive, father 
+or mother ? 
+Fent. Both, my good host, to go along with 
+me: 
+And here it rests, that you'll procure the vicar 
+To stay for me at church twixt twelve and one, 
+And, in the lawful name of marrying, 50 
+To give our hearts united ceremony. 
+Host. Well, husband your device; I'll to 
+_ the vicar: 
+Bring you the maid, you shall not lack a priest. 
+Fent. So shall I evermore be bound to thee; 
+Besides, I ‘ll make a present recompense. 
+[Exeunt, 
+
+
+ACT V. 
+
+
+Scene I. A room in the Garter Inn. 
+Enter FaustarF and Mistress QuiCKLY. 
+
+
+Fal. Prithee, no more prattling; go, I'll 
+hold. This is the third time; I hope good 
+luck lies in odd numbers. Away! go. They 
+say there is divinity in odd numbers, either in 
+nativity, chance, or death. Away! 
+
+Quick. T'll provide you a chain; and I'll 
+do what I can to get you a pair of horns. 
+
+Fal. Away, I say; time wears: hold up 
+your head, and mince. [Exit Mrs Quickly. 
+
+Enter Foro. 
+
+
+How now, Master Brook! Master Brook, the 
+matter will be known to-night, or never. Be 
+vou in the Park about midnight, at Herne’s 
+oak, and you shall see wonders. 
+
+
+Ford. Went you not to her yesterday, sir, | 
+{hard by Herne’s oak, with obscured lights; 
+
+
+as you told me you had appointed? 
+Fal. 1 went to her, Master Brook, as you 
+
+
+see, like a poor old man: but I came from | 
+
+
+her, Master Brook, like a poor old woman, 
+
+
+That same knave Ford, her husband, hath the 
+
+
+finest mad devil of jealousy in him, Master 
+
+
+Brook, that ever governed frenzy. I will tell 
+you: he beat me grievously, in the shape of a 
+woman; for in the shape of man, Master 
+Brook, J] fear not Goliath with a weaver’s 
+beam; because I know also life is a shuttle. 
+I am in haste; go along with me; I'll tell you 
+all, Master Brook. Since I plucked geese, 
+played truant and whipped top, I knew not 
+what "twas to be beaten till lately. Follow 
+me: I'll tell you strange things of this knave 
+Ford, on whom to-night I will be revenged, 
+and i will deliver his wife into your hand. 
+
+
+Follow. Strange things in hand, Master 
+Brook! Follow. [Exeunt. ; 
+Scene II. Windsor Park. 
+
+
+Enter’ Pack, SHALLow, and SLENDER. 
+
+Page. Come, come; we'll couch i’ the cas- 
+tle-ditch till we see the light of our fairies, 
+Remember, son Slender, my daughter. 
+
+Slen. Ay, forsooth; I] have spoke with her 
+and we have a nay-word how to know one 
+another: I come to her in white, and cry 
+‘mum;’ she cries ‘budget;’ and by that we 
+know one another. 
+
+Shal. That’s good too: but what needs 
+either your ‘mum’ or her ‘budget?’ the white 
+will decipher her well enough. It hath struck 
+ten o'clock. 
+
+Page. The night is dark; light and spirits 
+will become it well. Heaven prosper our 
+sport! No man means evil but the devil, and 
+we shall know him by his horns. Let's away; 
+follow me. 
+
+
+Scene III. A street leading to the Park. 
+
+
+Enter Mistress Pace, Mistress Forp, and 
+Doctor Carus, 
+
+Mrs Page, Master doctor, my daughter is 
+in green: when you see your time, take her by 
+the hand, away with her to the deanery, and 
+dispatch it quickly. Go before into the Park: 
+we two must go together. 
+
+Caius. | know vat I have to do, Adieu. 
+
+Mrs Page. Fare you well, sir. [Exit 
+Caius.] My husband will not rejoice so much 
+at the abuse of Falstaff as he will chafe at 
+the doctor’s marrying my daughter: but ’tis no 
+matter; better a little chiding than a great deal 
+of heart-break. 11 
+
+Mrs Ford. Where is Nan now and her 
+troop of fairies, and the Welsh devil Hugh? 
+
+Mrs Page, They are all couched im a pit 
+
+
+which, at the very instant of Falstaff’s and our 
+meeting, they will at once display to the night. 
+
+
+{Acr: V4; Se. 1 é 
+
+
+[Exeunt. | 
+
+
+aa 
+
+
+Se ie ey eee 
+
+
+7 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+Aer. Sel} 
+
+
+THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 79 
+
+
+Mrs Ford. That cannot choose but amaze 
+him. 
+_ Mrs Page. If he be not amazed, he will be 
+mocked; if he be amazed, he will every way 
+be mocked. 
+- Mrs Ford. We'll betray him finely. 
+Mrs Page. Against such lewdsters and 
+their lechery 
+Those that betray them do no treachery. 
+Mrs Ford. The hour draws on. To the 
+oak, to the oak! [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Windsor Park. 
+
+
+Enter Sir Hucu Evans, disguised, with 
+others as Fairies, 
+
+
+Evans. Trib, trib, fairies; come; and re- 
+member your parts: be pold, I pray you; fol- 
+low me into the pit; and when I give the 
+watch-ords, do as I pid you: come, come; 
+trib, trib. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene V. Another part of the Park. 
+Enter FALSTAFF disguised as Herne. 
+
+
+Fal. The Windsor bell hath struck twelve; 
+the minute draws on. Now, the hot-blooded 
+gods assist me! Remember, Jove, thou wast a 
+bull for thy Europa; love set on thy horns. O 
+powerful love! that, in some respects, makes a 
+beast a man, in some other, a man a beast. 
+You were also, Jupiter, a swan for the love of 
+Leda. O omnipotent Love! how near the 
+god drew to the complexion of a goose! A 
+fault done first in the form of a beast. O 
+Jove, a beastly fault! And then another fault 
+in the semblance of a fowl; think on’t, Jove; 
+a foul fault! When gods have hot backs, 
+what shall poor men do? For me, I am here 
+a Windsor stag; and the fattest, I think, i’ 
+the forest. Send me a cool rut-time, Jove, or 
+who can blame me to piss my tallow? Who 
+comes here? my doe? 
+
+
+Enter Mistress Forp and Mistress Pace, 
+
+
+Mrs Ford. Sir John! art thou there, my 
+deer? my male deer? 
+
+Fal. My doe with the black scut! Let the 
+sky rain potatoes; let it thunder to the tune of 
+Green Sleeves, hail kissing-comfits and snow 
+eringoes; let there come a tempest of provoca- 
+tion, I wili shelter me here. 
+
+Mrs Ford. Mistress Page is come with 
+me, sweetheart. 
+
+
+Fal. Divide me like a bribe buck, each a 
+
+
+_ haunch: I will keep my sides to myself, my 
+
+
+shoulders for the fellow of this walk, and my 
+horns I bequeath your husbands. Am I a 
+woodman, ha? Speak I like Herne the hun- 
+ter? Why, now is Cupid a child of con- 
+science; he makes restitution. As I am a 
+true spirit, welcome} [Noise within. 
+
+
+Mrs Page. Alas, what noise? 
+
+Mrs, Ford. Heaven forgive our sins! 
+
+Fal. What should this be? 
+
+Mrs Page. ) 
+
+Mrs Ford. § 
+
+Fal. I think the devil will not have me 
+damned, lest the oil that’s im me should set 
+hell on fire; he would never else cross me 
+
+
+thus. 40 
+
+
+Enter SiR Hucu Evans, disguised as be- 
+fore; PistoLt, as Hobgoblin; Mistress 
+QuickLy, ANNE Pace, and others, as 
+Fairies, with tapers. 
+
+
+Away, away! [They run off. 
+
+
+Quick, Fairies, black, grey, green, and 
+white, 
+You moonshine revellers, and shades of night, 
+You orphan heirs of fixed destiny, 
+Attend your office and your quality. 
+Crier Hobgoblin, make the fairy oyes. 
+Pist. Elves, list your names; silence, you 
+airy toys. 
+Cricket, to Windsor chimneys shalt thou leap: 
+Where fires thou find’st unraked and hearts 
+unswept, 
+There pinch the maids as blue as bilberry: 
+Our radiant queen hates sluts and sluttery. 50 
+Fal. They are fairies; he that speaks to 
+them shall die: 
+I'll wink and couch: no man their works must 
+eye. [Lies down upon his face. 
+
+Evans. Where’s Bede? Go you, and where 
+
+you find a maid 
+
+That, ere she sleep, has thrice her prayers 
+said, 
+
+Raise up the organs of her fantasy; 
+
+Sleep she as sound as careless infancy: 
+
+But those as sleep and think not on their sins, 
+
+Pinch them, arms, legs, backs, shoulders, sides 
+and shins. 
+
+Quick. About, about; 58) 
+Search Windsor Castle, elves, within and out: 
+Strew good luck, ouphes, on every sacred 
+
+room: 
+That it may stand till the perpetual doom, 
+In state as wholesome as in state tis fit, 
+Worthy the owner, and the owner it. 
+The several chairs of order look you scour 
+With juice of balm and every precious flower: 
+Each fair instalment, coat, and several crest, 
+With loyal blazon, evermore be blest! 
+And nightly, meadow-fairies, look you sing, 
+Like to the Garter’s compass, in a ring: 70 
+The expressure that it bears, green let it be, 
+More fertile-fresh than all the field to see; 
+And ‘Honi soit qui mal y pense’ write 
+In emerald tufts, fiowers purple, blue, and 
+white; 
+Like sapphire, pearl and rich embroid—- 
+
+
+80 
+
+
+THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 
+
+
+xX 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. V 
+
+
+Buckled below fair knighthood's bending knee: 
+Fairies use flowers for their charactery, 
+Away; disperse: but till ‘tis one o'clock, 
+
+Our dance of custom round about the oak 
+
+Of Herne the hunter, let us not forget. 80 
+
+Evans. Pray you, lock hand in hand; your- 
+selves in order set; 
+
+And twenty glow-worms shall our lanterns be, 
+
+To guide our measure round about the tree. 
+
+But, stay; I smell a man of middle-earth. 
+
+Fal, Heavens defend me from that Welsh 
+fairy, lest he transform me to a piece of 
+cheese! 
+
+Pist. Vile worm, thou wast o’erlook’d even 
+
+in thy birth. 
+
+Quick. With trial-fire touch me his finger- 
+
+end: 
+
+If he be chaste, the flame will back descend 
+
+And turn him to no pain; but if he start, 90 
+
+It is the flesh of a corrupted heart. 
+
+Pist. A trial, come. 
+
+Evans. Come, will this wood take fire > 
+
+[They burn him with their tapers. 
+
+Fal. Oh, Oh, Oh! 
+
+Quick. Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in de- 
+
+sire! 
+
+About him, fairies; sing a scornful rhyme; 
+
+And, as you trip, still pinch him to your time. 
+
+Sone. 
+
+Fie on sinful fantasy!- 
+
+Fie on lust and luxury! 
+
+Lust is but a bloody fire, 
+
+Kindled with unchaste desire. 
+
+Fed in heart, whose flames aspire 
+
+As thoughts do blow them, higher 
+higher. 
+
+Pinch him, fairies, mutually; 
+
+Pinch him for his villany; 
+
+Pinch him, and burn him, and turn him about, 
+
+Till candles and starlight and moonshine be 
+out. 
+
+During this song they pinch Fatstarr. Doc- 
+TOR CAIUS comes one way, and steals 
+away a boy in green; SLENDER another 
+way, and takes off a boy in white; and 
+FENTON comes, and steals away Mrs 
+ANNE Pace. A noise of hunting is 
+heard within, All the Fairies run away. 
+FaustTarF pulls off his buck’s head, and 
+
+
+rises. 
+
+
+and 
+
+
+Enter Pace, Forp, Mistress Pace and 
+Mistress Forp, 
+
+
+Page. Nay, do not fly; I think we have 
+watch'd you now: 
+Will none but Herne the hunter serve your 
+turn ? 
+Mrs Page. | pray you, come, hold up the 
+jest no higher. 
+
+
+100] y 
+
+
+Now, good Sir John, how like you Windsor 
+
+
+wives > 110 
+See you these, husband? do not these fair 
+yokes 
+
+
+Become the forest better than the town? 
+
+Ford. Now, sir, who’s a cuckold now? 
+Master Brook, Falstaff’s a knave, a cuckoldly 
+knave; here are his horns, Master Brook: and, 
+Master Brook, he hath enjoyed nothing of 
+Ford’s but his buck-basket, his cudgel, and 
+twenty pounds of money, which must be paid 
+to Master Brook; his horses are arrested for 
+it, Master Brook. 119 
+
+Mrs Ford. Sir John, we have had ill 
+luck; we could never meet. I will never take 
+you for my love again; but I will always 
+count you my deer. 
+
+Fal. 1 do begin to perceive that I am made 
+an ass. 
+
+Ford. Ay, and an ox too: both the proofs 
+are extant. 
+
+Fal. And these are not fairies? I was 
+three or four times in the thought they were 
+not fairies: and yet the guiltiness of my mind, 
+ithe sudden surprise of my powers, drove the 
+grossness of the foppery into a received be- 
+lief, in despite of the teeth of all rhyme and 
+reason, that they were fairies. See now how 
+wit may be made a Jack-a-Lent, when ‘tis 
+upon ill employment! 
+
+Evans. Sir John Falstaff, serve Got, and 
+
+
+leave your desires, and fairies will not pinse 
+
+
+ou. 
+
+Ford. Well, said, fairy Hugh. 
+
+Evans. And leave your jealousies too, I 
+pray you, = 140 
+
+Ford. I will never mistrust my wife again, 
+till thou art able to woo her in good English. 
+
+Fal. Have I laid my brain in the sun and 
+dried it, that it wants matter to prevent so 
+gross o’erreaching as this? Am I ridden with 
+a Welsh goat too? shall I have a coxcomb of 
+frize>? “Tis time I were choked with a piece 
+of toasted cheese. 
+
+Evans, Seese is not good to give putter; 
+your belly is all putter. 149 
+
+Fal. ‘Seese’ and ‘putter’! have I lived to 
+stand at the taunt of one that makes fritters of 
+English? This is enough to be the decay of 
+lust and late-walking through the realm. 
+
+Mrs Page Why, Sir John, do you think, 
+though we would have thrust virtue out of our 
+hearts by the head and shoulders and have 
+given ourselves without scruple to hell, that 
+ever the devil could have’ made you our de- 
+light? 
+
+Ford. What, a hodge-pudding? a bag of 
+
+
+flax! 
+| Mrs Page. A puffed man? 160 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. V] 
+
+
+_ Page. Old, cold, withered and of intolera- 
+ble entrails > 
+
+Ford. And one that is as slanderous as 
+Satan > 
+
+Page. And as poor as Job? 
+
+Ford. And as wicked as his wife? 
+
+Evans. And given to fornications, and to 
+taverns and sack and wine and metheglins, 
+and to drinkings and swearings and starings, 
+pribbles and prabbles ? 169 
+
+Fal. Well, I am your theme: you have the 
+start of me; I am dejected; | am not able to 
+answer the Welsh flannel: ignorance itself is 
+a plummet o'er me: use me as you will. 
+
+Ford. Marry, sir, we'll bring you to Wind- 
+sor, to one Master Brook, that you have coz- 
+ened of money, to whom you should have 
+been a pandar: over and above that you have 
+suffered, I think to repay that money will be 
+a biting affliction. 
+
+Page. Yet be cheerful, knight: thou shalt 
+
+“eat a posset to-night at my house; where I will 
+desire thee to laugh at my wife, that now 
+laughs at thee: tell her Master Slender hath 
+married her daughter. 
+
+Mrs Page. [Aside] Doctors doubt that: 
+if Anne Page be my daughter, she is, by this, 
+Doctor Caius’ wife. 
+
+Enter SLENDER. 
+Whoa, ho! ho, father Page! 
+Son, how now! how now, son! have 
+189 
+
+I'll make the best in 
+
+would I were 
+
+
+Sia 
+
+Page. 
+you dispatched ? 
+
+Slen. Dispatched! 
+Gloucestershire know on’'t; 
+hanged, la, else! 
+
+Page. Of what, son? 
+
+~ Slen. I came yonder at Eton to marry Mis- 
+tress Anne Page, and she’s a great lubberly 
+boy. If it had not been i’ the church, I would 
+have swinged him, or he should have swinged 
+me. If I did not think it had been Anne 
+Page, would I might never stir!—and ‘tis a 
+postmaster’s boy. 
+
+Page. Upon my life, then, you took the 
+wrong. 201 
+
+Slen. What need you tell me that? I 
+think so, when I took a boy for a girl. If I 
+had been married to him, for all he was in 
+woman's apparel, I would not have had him. 
+
+Page. Why, this is your own folly. Did 
+not I tell you how you should know my 
+daughter by her garments ? 
+
+Slen. I went to her in white, and “cried 
+‘mum,’ and she cried ‘budget,’ as Anne and | 
+had appointed; and yet it was not Anne, but 
+a postmaster’s boy. 
+
+Mrs Page. Good George, be not angry: I 
+knew of your purpose; turned my daughter 
+\ into green; and, indeed, she is now with the 
+
+
+THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 
+
+
+81 
+
+
+doctor at the deanery, and there married, 
+Enter Catus. 
+
+Caius. Vere is Mistress Page? By gar, I 
+
+am cozened: I ha’ married-un garcon, a boy; 
+
+un paysan, by gar, a boy; it is not Anne 
+
+
+Page: by gar, I am cozened. 220 
+Mrs Page. Why, did you take her in 
+green > 
+
+
+Caius. Ay, by gar, and ‘tis a boy: by gar, 
+I'll raise all Windsor. [Exit. 
+
+Ford. This is strange. Who hath got the 
+right Anne? 
+
+Page. My heart misgives me: 
+Master Fenton. 
+
+
+Enter FENTON and ANNE PAGE. 
+
+
+How now, Master Fenton! 
+
+Anne. Pardon, good father! 
+
+mother, pardon! 
+
+Page. Now, mistress, how chance you 
+went not with Master Slender? 231 
+
+Mrs. Page. Why went you not with master 
+
+doctor, maid? 
+
+Fent. You do amaze: hear the truth of it, 
+You would have married her most shamefully, 
+Where there was no proportion held in love. 
+The truth is, she and IJ, long since contracted, 
+Are now so sure that nothing can dissolve us. 
+The offence is holy that she hath committed; 
+And this deceit loses the name of craft, 
+
+Of disobedience, or unduteous title, 240 
+Since therein she doth evitate and shun 
+
+A thousand irreligious cursed hours, 
+
+Which forced marriage would have brought 
+
+
+here comes 
+
+
+good my 
+
+
+upon her. 
+Ford. Stand not amazed; here is no rem- 
+edy: 
+In love the heavens themselves do guide the 
+state; 
+
+
+Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate. 
+Fal. 1 am glad, though you have ta’en a 
+special stand to strike at me, that your arrow 
+hath glanced. 
+Page. Well, what remedy? Fenton, heaven 
+give thee joy! 250 
+What cannot be eschew'd must be embraced. 
+Eal. When night-dogs run, all sorts of deer 
+are chased. 
+Mrs Page. Well, I will must no further, 
+Master Fenton, 
+Heaven give you many, many merry days! 
+Good husband, let us every one go home, 
+And laugh this sport o’er by a country fire; 
+Sir John and all... 
+Ford. Let it be so, Sir John, 
+To Master Brook you yet shall hold your 
+word; 
+For he to-night shall lie with Mistress Ford. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAL 
+
+
+VINCENTIO, the Duke. 
+ANGELO, Deputy. 
+
+Escaus, an ancient Lord. 
+CLaupio, a young gentleman. 
+Lucio, a fantastic. 
+
+Two other gentlemen. 
+
+
+Provost. 
+Troms, } two friars 
+PETER, ‘ 
+A Justice. 
+VARRIUS, 
+ELBow, a simple constable, 
+ACT I. 
+Scene I, An apartment in the DuKE’s palace. 
+
+
+Enter Duxe, Escatus, Lords and Attendants. 
+Duke. Escalus. 
+Escal. My lord. 
+Duke. Of government the properties to un- 
+fold, 
+Would seem in me to affect speech and dis- 
+course ; 
+Since I am put to know that your own science 
+Exceeds, in that, the lists of all advice 
+My strength can give you: then no more remains, 
+7But that to your sufficiency 
+SS HO SRS Ate aaa as your worth is able, 
+And let them work. The nature of our people, 
+Our city’s institutions, and the terms 1] 
+For common justice, you're as pregnant in 
+As art and practice hath enriched any 
+That we remember. There is our commission, 
+From which we would not have you warp. 
+Call hither, 
+I say, bid come before us Angelo. 
+[Exit an Attendant. 
+What figure of us think you he will bear? 
+For you must know, we have with special soul 
+Elected him our absence to supply, 
+Lent him our terror, dress’d him with our love, 
+And given his deputation all the organs 21 
+Of our own power: what think you of it? 
+Escal. If any in Vienna be of worth 
+To undergo such ample grace and honour, 
+It is Lord Angelo. 
+Duke. 
+
+
+Look where he comes. 
+Enter ANGELO. 
+
+
+Ang. Always obedient to your grace’s will, 
+I come to know your pleasure. 
+
+
+FRotH, a foolish gentleman. 
+Pompey, servant to Mistress Overdone, 
+ABHORSON, an executioner. 
+BaRNARDINE, a dissolute prisoner. 
+IsABELLA, sister to Claudio. 
+Mariana, betrothed to Angelo, 
+Juiet, beloved of Claudio. 
+FRANCISCA, a nun. 
+Mistress OveRDONE, a bawd, 
+
+Lords, Officers, Citizens, Boy, and Attendants. 
+
+
+ScENE: Vienna. 
+
+
+Duke. Angelo, 
+
+There is a kind of character in thy life, 
+
+That to the observer doth thy history 
+
+Fully unfold. Thyself and thy belongings 30 
+
+Are not thine own so proper as to waste 
+
+Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee. 
+
+Heaven doth with us as we with torches do, 
+
+Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues 
+
+Did not go forth of us, ’twere all alike 
+
+As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely 
+touch’d 
+
+But to fine issues, nor Nature never lends 
+
+The smallest scruple of her excellence 
+
+But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines 
+
+Herself the glory of a creditor, 40 
+
+Both thanks and use. But I do bend my speech 
+
+To one that can my part in him advertise; 
+
+Hold therefore, Angelo:— 
+
+In our remove be thou at full ourself; 
+
+Mortality and mercy in Vienna 
+
+Live in thy tongue and heart: old Escalus, 
+
+Though first in question, is thy secondary. 
+
+Take thy commission. 
+
+Ang. Now, good my lord, 
+Let there be some more test made of my metal, 
+Before so noble and so great a figure 50 
+Be stamp'd upon it. 
+
+Duke. No more evasion: 
+
+We have with a leaven’d and prepared choice 
+Proceeded to you; therefore take your honours. 
+Our haste from hence is of so quick condition 
+Thattit prefers itself and leaves unquestion'd 
+Matters of needful value. We shall write to 
+you, 
+
+As time and our concernings shall importune, 
+How it goes with us, and do look to know 
+
+
+What doth befall you here. So, fare you well: 
+82 
+
+
+: 
+
+
+Acr I, Sc. 1] MEASURE FOR MEASURE 83 
+
+
+To the hopeful execution do I leave you 60| First Gent, I think, or in any religion. 
+
+
+Of your commissions. 
+. Ang. Yet give leave, my lord, 
+That we may bring you something on the way. 
+Duke. My haste may not admit it; 
+Nor need you, on mine honour, have to do 
+With any scruple; your scope is as mine own, 
+So to enforce or qualify the laws 
+As to your soul seems good, Give me your 
+hand: 
+I'll privily away. I love the people, 
+But do not like to stage me to their eyes: 
+Though it do well, I do not relish well 
+Their loud applause and Aves vehement; 
+Nor do I think the man of safe discretion 
+That does affect it. Once more, fare you well. 
+Ang. The heavens give safety to your pur- 
+poses! 
+Escal. Lead forth and bring you back in 
+happiness! 
+Duke. | thank you. Fare you well. [Exit. 
+_ Escal, I shall desire you, sir, to give me leave 
+To have free speech with you; and it concerns 
+
+
+70 
+
+
+me 
+To look into the bottom of my place: 
+A power I have, but of what strength and nature 
+I am not yet instructed. 81 
+Ang. ‘Tis so with me. Let us withdraw 
+together, 
+And we may soon our satisfaction have 
+Touching that point. 
+Escal. 1 ll wait upon your honour. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IJ. A street. 
+Enter Lucio and two Gentlemen. 
+
+
+Lucio, If the duke with the other dukes come 
+not to composition with the King of Hungary, 
+why then all the dukes fall upon the king. 
+
+First Gent. Heaven grant us its peace, but 
+not the King of Hungary's! 
+
+Sec. Gent. Amen. * 
+
+Lucio. Thou concludest like the sanctimo- 
+nious pirate, that went to sea with the Ten 
+Commandments, but scraped one out of the 
+table. 
+
+Sec. Gent. “Thou shalt not steal’? 10 
+
+Lucio. Ay, that he razed. 
+
+First Gent. Why, ‘twas a commandment to 
+command the captain and all the rest from 
+their functions: they put forth to steal. There’s 
+not a soldier of us all, that, in the thanksgiv- 
+ing before meat, do relish the petition well 
+that prays for peace. 
+
+Sec..Gent. I never heard any soldier dislike it. 
+
+Lucio. I believe thee; for I think thou 
+never wast where grace was said. 20 
+
+Sec. Gent. No? a dozen times at least. 
+
+First Gent. What, in metre? 
+
+Lucio. In any proportion or in any language. 
+
+
+Lucio. Ay, why not? Grace is grace, despite 
+of all controversy: as for example, thou thy- 
+self art a wicked villain, despite of all grace. 
+
+First Gent. Well, there went but a pair of 
+shears between us. 
+
+Lucio. I grant; as there may between the 
+lists and the velvet, Thou art the list. 3] 
+
+First Gent. And thou the velvet: thou art 
+good velevt; thou’rt a three-piled piece, I 
+warrant thee: I had as lief be a list of an 
+English kersey as be piled,,as thou art piled, 
+for a French velvet. Do I speak feelingly now? 
+
+Lucio. .| think thou dost; and, indeed, with 
+most painful feeling of thy speech: I will, out of 
+thine own confession, learn to begin thy health; 
+but, whilst I live, forget to drink after thee. 40 
+
+First Gent. 1 think I have done myself 
+wrong, have | not? 
+
+Sec. Gent. Yes, that thou hast, whether 
+thou art tainted or free. 
+
+Lucio. Behold, behold, where Madam Miti- 
+gation comes! I have purchased as many dis- 
+eases under her roof as come to— 
+
+Sec. Gent. To what, I pray? 
+
+Lucio. Judge. 
+
+Sec. Gent. To three thousand dolours a year. 
+
+First Gent. Ay, and more. 51 
+
+Lucio. A French crown more. 
+
+First Gent. Thou art always figuring dis- 
+eases in me; but thou art full of error; I am 
+sound. 
+
+Lucio. Nay, not as one would say, healthy; 
+but so sound as things that are hollow: thy 
+bones are hollow; impiety has made a feast of 
+thee. 
+
+
+Enter Mistress OvERDONE. 
+
+
+First Gent. How now! which of your hips 
+has the most profound sciatica? 
+
+Mrs Ov. Well, well; there’s one yonder 
+arrested and carried to prison was worth five 
+thousand of you all. 
+
+Sec. Gent. Who's that, I pray thee? 
+
+Mrs Ov. Marry, sir, that’s Claudio, Signior 
+Claudio. 
+
+First Gent. Claudio to prison? ‘tis not so. 
+
+Mrs Ov. Nay, but I know ’tis so: I saw 
+him arrested, saw him carried away; and, 
+which is more, within these three days his 
+head to be chopped off. 70 
+
+Lucio. But, after all this fooling, I would 
+not have it so. Art thou sure of this? 
+
+Mrs Ov. I am too sure of it: and it is for 
+getting Madam Julietta with child. 
+
+Lucio, Believe me, this may be: he prom- 
+ised to meet me twc hour: since, and he was 
+ever precise in promise-keeping. 
+
+Sec. Gent. Besides, you know, it draws 
+
+
+84 MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+[Act I, Sc. II 
+
+
+something near to the speech we had to such 
+a purpose. 
+First Gent. But, most of all, agreeing with 
+the proclamation. 81 
+Lucio. Away! let's go learn the truth of it. 
+[Exeunt Lucio and Gentlemen. 
+Mrs Ov. Thus, what with the war, what 
+with the sweat, what with the gallows and 
+what with poverty, I am custom-shrunk. 
+
+
+Enter Pompey. 
+
+
+How now! what's the news with you? 
+
+Pom. Yonder man is carried to prison. 
+
+Mrs Ov. Well; what has he done? 
+
+Pom. A woman. 
+
+Mrs Ov. But what's his offence? 90 
+
+Pom. Groping for trouts in a peculiar river. 
+
+Mrs Ov. What, is there a maid with child 
+by him? 
+
+Pom. No, but there’s a woman with maid 
+by him. You have not heard of the proclama- 
+tion, have you? 
+
+Mrs Ov. What proclamation, man? 
+
+Pom. All houses in the suburbs of Vienna 
+in the suburbs be pulled down? 
+
+Mrs Ov. And what shall become of those 
+in the city > 101 
+
+Pom. They shall stand for seed: they had 
+gone down too, but that a wise burgher put in 
+for them. 
+
+Mrs Ov. But shall all our houses of resort 
+in the suburbs be pulled down? 
+
+Pom. To the ground, mistress. 
+
+Mrs Ov. Why, here’s a change indeed in the 
+commonwealth! What shall become of me? 
+
+Pom. Come; fear not you: good counsellors 
+lack no clients: though you change your place, 
+you need not change your trade; I'll be your 
+tapster still. Courage! there will be pity taken 
+on you: you that have worn your eyes almost 
+out in the service, you will be considered. 
+
+Mrs Ov. What's to do here, Thomas tap- 
+ster? let's withdraw. 
+
+Pom. Here comes Signior Claudio, led by 
+the provost to prison; and there’s Madam 
+Juliet. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Enter Provost, CLaupto, JULIET, and 
+Officers. 
+
+
+Claud. Fellow, why dost thou show me thus 
+to the world? 120 
+Bear me to prison, where I am committed. 
+Prov. | do it not in evil disposition, 
+
+But from Lord Angelo by special charge. 
+Claud. Thus can the demigod Authority 
+Make us pay down for our offence by weight 
+The words of heaven; on whom it will, it will; 
+On whom it will not, so; yet still ‘tis just. 
+
+Re-enter Lucio and two Gentlemen. 
+
+
+Lucio. Why, how now, Claudio! whence 
+comes this restraint? 
+Claud.. From too much liberty, my Lucio, 
+liberty: 
+As surfeit is the father of much fast, 130 
+So every scope by the immoderate use 
+Turns to restraint. Our natures do pursue, 
+Like rats that ravin down their proper bane, 
+A thirsty evil; and when we drink we die. 
+Lucio. If I could speak so wisely under an 
+arrest, I would send for certain of my credi- 
+tors: and yet, to say the truth, I had as lief 
+have the foppery of freedom as the morality of 
+imprisonment. What's thy offence, Claudio? 
+Claud. What but to speak of would offend 
+
+
+again. 140 
+Lucio. What, is’t murder? 
+Claud. No. 
+Lucio. Lechery? 
+
+
+Claud. Call it so. 
+
+Prov. Away sir! you must go. 
+
+Claud. One word, good friend. Lucio, a 
+
+word with you. 
+
+Lucio. A hundred, if they'll do you any 
+
+good, 
+Is lechery so look’d after? 
+
+Claud. Thus stands it with me: upon a 
+
+true contract 
+I got possession of Julietta’s bed: 150 
+You know the lady; she is fast my wife, 
+Save that we do the deunciation lack 
+Of outward order: this we came not to, 
+Only for propagation of a dower £ 
+Remaining in the coffer of her friends, 
+From whom we thought it meet to hide our love 
+Till time had made them for us. But it chances 
+The stealth of our most mutual entertainment 
+With character too gross is writ on Juliet, 
+
+Lucio. With child, perhaps? 
+
+Claud. Unhappily, even so. 
+And the new deputy now for the duke— 161 
+Whether it be the fault and glimpse of new- 
+
+ness, 
+Or whether that the body public be 
+A horse whereon the governor doth ride, 
+Who, newly in the seat, that it may know 
+He can command, lets it straight feel the spur; 
+Whether the tyranny be in his place, 
+Or in his eminence that fills it up, 
+I stagger in:—but this new governor 
+Awakes me all the enrolled penalties 170 
+Which have, like unscour’d armour, hung by 
+the wall 
+So long that nineteen zodiacs have gone round 
+And _ none of them been worn; and, for a name, 
+Nov, puts the drowsy and neglected act 
+Freshly on me: ‘tis surely for a name. 
+
+Lucio. I warrant it is: and thy head stands 
+
+so tickle on thy shoulders that a milkmaid, if 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+Act I, Sc. III] 
+
+
+she be in love, may sigh it off. Send after 
+the duke and appeal to him. 
+Claud. I have done so, but he’s not to be 
+found. 180 
+I prithee, Lucio, do me this kind service: 
+This day my sister should the cloister enter 
+And there receive her approbation: 
+Acquaint her with the danger of my state; 
+Implore her, in my voice, that she make friends 
+To the strict deputy; bid herself assay him: 
+I have great hope in that; for in her youth 
+There is a prone and speechless dialect, ; 
+Such as move men; beside, she hath pros- 
+perous art 
+When she will play with reason and discourse, 
+And well she can persuade. 19] 
+Lucio. | pray she may; as well for the en- 
+couragement of the like, which else would stand 
+under grievous imposition, as for the enjoying 
+of thy life, who I would be sorry should be thus 
+foolishly lost at a game of tick-tack. I ‘Il to her. 
+
+
+_ Claud, 1 thank you, good friend Lucio. 
+Lucio. Within two hours. 
+Claud. Come, officer, away! 
+[Exeunt. 
+Scene III. A monastery. 
+
+
+Enter DuKE and Friar THoMAs. 
+
+
+Duke. No, holy father; throw away that 
+thought; 
+‘Believe not that the dribbling dart of love 
+Can pierce a complete bosom. Why I desire 
+thee 
+To give me secret harbour, hath a purpose 
+More grave and wrinkled than the aims and 
+
+
+- ends 
+
+Of burning youth. 
+Print. May your grace speak of it? 
+Duke. My holy sir, none better knows 
+
+
+than you 
+How I have ever loved the life removed 
+And held in idle price to haunt assemblies 
+Where youth, and cost, and witless bravery 
+keeps. 10 
+I have deliver’d to Lord Angelo, 
+A man of stricture and firm abstinence, 
+My absolute power and place here in Vienna, 
+And he supposes me travell’d to Poland; 
+For so I have strew’d it in the common ear, 
+And so it is received. Now, pious sir, 
+You will demand of me why I do this? 
+Fri. T. Gladly, my lord. 
+Duke. 
+biting laws, 19 
+The needful bits and curbs to headstrong weeds, 
+Which for this nineteen years we have let slip; 
+Even like an o’ergrown lion in a cave, 
+That goes not out to prey. Now, as fond fathers, 
+Having bound up the threatening twigs of birch, 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+We have strict statutes and most 
+
+
+85 
+
+
+Only to stick it in their children’s sight 
+
+For terror, not to use, in time the rod 
+
+Becomes more mock'd than fear’d; so our 
+decrees, 
+
+Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead; 
+
+And liberty plucks justice by the nose; 
+
+The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart 
+
+Goes all decorum. 
+
+Krier It rested in your grace 
+
+To unloose this tied-up justice when you 
+pleased: 
+
+And it in you more dreadful would have seem'd ’ 
+
+Than in Lord Angelo. 
+
+Duke. I do fear, too dreadful: 
+Sith ‘twas my fault to give the people scope, 
+*Twould be my tyranny to strike and gall them 
+For what I bid them do: for we hid this be 
+
+done, 
+When evil deeds have their permissive pass 
+And not the punishment. Therefore indeed, 
+my father, 
+I have on Angelo imposed the office; 40 
+Who may, in the ambush of my name, strike 
+home, 
++And yet my nature never in the fight 
+To do in slander. And to behold his sway, 
+I will, as "twere a brother of your order, 
+Visit both prince and people: therefore, I 
+prithee, 
+Supply me with the habit and instruct me 
+How I may formally in person bear me 
+Like a true friar. Moe reasons for this action 
+At our more leisure shal! I render you; 
+Only, this one: Lord Angelo is precise; 50 
+Stands at a guard with envy; scarce confesses 
+That his blood flows, or that his appetite 
+Is more to bread _ than stone: hence shall we see, 
+If power change purpose, what our seemers be 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. A nunnery. 
+Enter IsABELLA and FRANCISCA. 
+Isab. And have you nuns no farther privi- 
+
+
+leges >? 
+
+Fran. Are not these large enough? 
+
+Isab. Yes, truly: I speak not as desiring 
+more; 
+
+
+But rather wishing a more strict restraint 
+Upon the sisterhood, the votarists of Saint 
+Clare. 
+Lucio. [Within] Ho! Peace be in this place! 
+Isab. Who's that which calls? 
+Fran. It is aman’s voice. Gentle Isabella, 
+Turn you the key, and know his business of 
+him; 
+You may, I may not; you are yet unsworn. 
+When you have vow'd, you must not speak 
+with men 
+
+
+But in the presence of the prioress: 
+
+
+86 
+
+
+er 
+
+
+Then, if you speak, you must not show your 
+face, 
+
+Or, if you show your face, you must not speak. 
+
+He calls again; | pray you, answer him. [ Exit. 
+
+IsthstPesccmid prosperity! Who is’t that 
+calls? 
+
+
+Enter Lucio. 
+Lucto. Hail, 
+
+
+cheek-roses 
+Proclaim you are no less! Can you so stead me 
+As bring me to the sight of Isabella, 
+A novice of this place and the fair sister 
+To her unhappy brother Clandio? 20 
+Isab. Why ‘her unhappy brother’? let me 
+ask, 
+The rather for | now must make you know 
+I am that Isabella and his sister. 
+Lucio, Gentle and fair, your brother kindly 
+greets you: 
+Not to be weary with you, he’s in prison. 
+Isab. Woe me! for what? 
+Lucio. For that which, if myself might be 
+his judge, 
+He should receive his punishment in thanks: 
+He hath got his friend with child. 
+Isab. Sir, make me not your story. 
+Lucio. It is true. 
+I would not—though ‘tis my familiar sin 
+With maids to seem the lapwing and to jest, 
+Tongue far from heart—play with all virgins 
+so: 
+1 hold you as a thing ensky'd and sainted, 
+By your renouncement an immortal spirit, 
+And to be talk’d with in sincerity, 
+As with a saint. 
+Isab. You do blaspheme the good in mock- 
+ing me. 
+Lucio. Do not believe it. Fewness and 
+truth, "tis thus: 
+Your brother and his lover have embraced: 40 
+As those that feed grow full as blossoming 
+time 
+That from the seedness the bare fallow brings 
+To teeming foison, even so her plenteous womb 
+Expresseth his full tilth and husbandry. 
+Isab. “Some one with child by him? My 
+cousin Juliet? 
+Lucio. Is sbe your cousin? 
+Isab. Adoptedly; as school-maids change 
+their names 
+By vain though apt affection. 
+
+
+virgin, if you be, as those 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+Lucio. She it is. 
+Isab. O, let him marry her. 
+Lucio. This is the point. 
+
+
+The duke is very strangely gone from hence; 
+Bore many gentlemen, myself being one, 
+
+In hand and hope of action: but we do learn 
+By those that know the very nerves of state, 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+ee eign enone at eee SPENSER 
+
+
+His givings-out were of an infinite distance 
+From his true-meant design. Upon his place, 
+And with full line of his authority, 
+
+Governs Lord Angelo; a man whose blood 
+
+Is very snow-broth; one who never feels 
+The wanton stings and motions of the sense, 
+
+
+But doth rebate and blunt his natural edge 60 ~ 
+
+
+With profits of the mind, study and fast. 
+He—to give fear to use and liberty, 
+Which have for long run by the hideous law, 
+As mice by lions—hath pick’d out an act, 
+Under whose heavy sense your brother’s life 
+Falls into forfeit: he arrests him on it; 
+And follows close the rigour of the statute, 
+To make him an example. A\ll hope is gone, 
+Unless you have the grace by your fair prayer 
+To soften Angelo: and that’s my pith of 
+business 70 
+
+“Twixt you and your poor brother. 
+
+Isab. Doth he so seek his life? 
+
+Lucio. Has censured him 
+Already; and, as I hear, the provost hath 
+A warrant for his execution. 
+
+Isab. Alas! What poor ability’s in me 
+To do him good? 
+
+
+Lucio. Assay the power you have. 
+Isab. My power? Alas, I doubt— 
+Lucio. Our doubts are traitors 
+
+
+And make us lose the good we oft might win 
+By fearing to attempt. Go to Lord Angelo, 
+And let him learn to know, when maidens sue, 
+Men give like gods; but when they weep and 
+kneel, 81 
+All their petitions are as freely theirs 
+As they themselves would owe them. 
+Isab. Ill see what I can do. 
+Lucio. But speedily, 
+Isab. 1 will about it straight; 
+No longer staying but to give the mother 
+Notice of my affair. I humbly thank you: 
+Commend me to my brother: soon at night 
+I'll send him certain werd of my success. 
+Lucio. I take my leave of you. 
+Isab. Good sir, adieu. 90 
+[Exeunt, 
+
+
+ACT Il. 
+Scene I. A hall in ANcELO's house. 
+Enter ANGELO, Escatus, and a Justice, Pro- 
+
+
+vost, Officers, and other Attendants, behind. 
+Ang. We must not make a scarecrow of 
+the law, 
+Setting it up to fear the birds of prey, 
+And let it keep one shape, till custom make it 
+Their perch and not their terror. 
+Escal. Ay, but yet 
+Let us be keen, and rather cut a little, 
+Than fall, and bruise to death. Alas, this 
+
+
+gentleman, 
+
+
+[Acr II, Sc. I 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+w¥pY te 
+
+
+Act Ii, Sc. I] 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+“Ne 
+
+
+8&7 
+
+
+Whom I! would save, had a most noble father! 
+
+Let but your honour know, 
+
+Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue, 
+
+That, in the working of your own affections, 
+
+Had time cohered with place or place with 
+
+wishing, 
+
+Or that the resolute acting of your blood 
+
+Could have attain’d the effect of your own 
+' purpose, 
+
+Whether you had not sometime in your life 
+
+Err’d in this point which now you censure him, 
+
+And pull’d the law upon you. 
+
+
+Ang. "Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus, | 
+
+
+Another thing to fall. I not deny, 
+
+The jury, passing on the prisoner’s life, 
+
+May in the sworn twelve have a thief or two 
+
+Guiltier than him they try. What's open 
+made to justice, 
+
+That justice seizes: what know the laws 
+
+That thieves do pass on thieves? "Tis very 
+pregnant, 
+
+
+_ The jewel that we find, we stoop and take’t 
+
+
+ecause we see it; but what we do not see 
+We tread upon, and never think of it. 
+You may no: so extenuate his offence 
+For I have had such faults; but rather tell me, 
+When I, that censure him, do so offend, 29 
+Let mine own judgement pattern out my death, 
+And nothing come in partial. Sir, he must die. 
+
+Escal. Be it as your wisdom will. 
+
+Ang. Where is the provost? 
+
+Prov. Here, if it like your honour, 
+
+Ang. See that Claudio 
+Be executed by nine to-morrow morning: 
+Bring him his confessor, let him be prepared; 
+For that’s the utmost of his pilgrimage. 
+
+[Exit Provost. 
+Escal. [Aside] Well, heaven forgive him! 
+and forgive us all! 
+Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall: 
+{Some run from brakes of ice, and answer 
+none: 
+
+And some condemned for a fault alone. 40 
+Enter Etzow, and Officers with FRoTH and 
+Pompey. 
+
+Elb. Come, bring them away: if these be 
+good people in a commonweal that do nothing 
+but use their abuses in common houses, | know 
+no law: bring them away. 
+
+Ang. How now, sir! What's your name? 
+and what's the matter > 
+
+Elb. If it please your honour, I am the 
+poor duke’s constable, and my name is Elbow: 
+I do lean upon justice, sir, and do bring in 
+here before your good honour two notorious 
+benefactors. 
+
+Ang. Benefactors? Well; what benefac- 
+tors are they? are they not malefactors? 
+
+
+nd 
+
+
+Elb. If it.please your honour, I know not 
+well what they are: but precise villains they are, 
+that I am sure of; and void of all profanation 
+in the world that good Christians ought to 
+have. 
+
+Escal. 
+officer. 
+
+Ang. Go to: what quality are they of? 
+Elbow is your name? why dost thor net 
+speak, Elbow? 60 
+
+Pom. He cannot, sir; he’s out at elbow. 
+
+Ang. What are you, sir? 
+
+Elb. He, sir! a tapster, sir; parcel-bawd; 
+one that serves a bad woman; whose house, 
+sir, was, as they say, plucked down in the 
+suburbs; and now she professes a hot-house, 
+which, I think, is a very ill house too. 
+
+Escal. How know you that? 
+
+Elb. My wife, sir, whom I detest before 
+heaven and your honour,— . 70 
+
+Escal. How? thy wife? 
+
+Elb. Ay, sir; whom, I thank heaven, is an 
+honest woman,— 
+
+Escal. Dost thou detest her therefore? 
+
+Elb. I say, sir, I will detest myself also, as 
+well as she, that this house, if it be not a 
+bawd’s house, it is pity of her life, for it is a 
+naughty house. 
+
+Escal. How dost thou know that, constable? 
+
+Elb. Marry, sir, by my wife; who, if she 
+had been a woman cardinally given, might 
+have been accused in fornication, adultery, 
+and all uncleanliness there. 
+
+Escal. By the woman's means? 
+
+Elb. Ay, sir, by Mistress Overdone’s 
+means: but as she spit in his face, so she de- 
+fied him. 
+
+Pom. Sir, if it please your honour, this is 
+not so. 
+
+Elb. Prove it before these varlets here, thou 
+honourable man; prove it. 
+
+Escal. Do you hear how he misplaces? 90 
+
+Pom. Sir, she came in great with child; and 
+longing, saving your honour’s reverence, for 
+stewed prunes; sir, we had but two in the 
+house, which at that very distant time stood, as 
+it were. in a fruit-dish, a dish of some three- 
+pence; your honours have seen such dishes; they 
+are not China dishes, but very good dishes, — 
+
+Escal. Go to, go to: no matter for the dish, 
+sir. 
+Pom. No, indeed, sir, not of a pin; you 
+are therein in the right: but to the point. As 
+I say, this Mistress Elbow, being, as I say, 
+with child, and being great-bellied, and long- 
+ing, as I said, for prunes; and having but twe 
+in the dish, as I said, Master Froth here, this 
+very man, having eaten the rest, as ! said, and, 
+as I say, paying for them very honestly; for. 
+
+
+This comes off well; here’s a wis 
+
+
+88 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+[Act II, Sc. i 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+as you know, Master Froth, I could not give 
+you three-pence again. ‘ 
+
+Froth. No, indeed. 
+
+Pom. Very well; you being then, if you be 
+remembered, cracking the stones of the fore- 
+said prunes,— 111 
+
+Froth. Ay, so I did indeed. 
+
+Pom. Why, very well; I telling you then, if 
+you be remembered, that such a one and such 
+a one were past cure of the thing you wot of, 
+unless they kept very good diet, as | told you,— 
+
+Froth. All this is true. 
+
+Pom. Why, very well, then,— 
+
+Escal. Come, you are a tedious fool: to the 
+purpose. What was done to Elbow’s wife, 
+that he hath cause to complain of ? Come me 
+to what was done to her. 
+
+Pom. Sir, your honour cannot come to that 
+yet. 
+
+Escal. No, sir, nor I mean it not. 
+
+Pom. Sir, but you shall come to it, by your 
+honour’s leave. And, I beseech you, look into 
+Master Froth here, sir; a man of fourscore 
+pound a year; whose father died at Hallow- 
+mas: wast not a Hallowmas, Master Froth? 
+
+Froth. All-hallond eve. 130 
+
+Pom. Why, very well; I hone here be 
+truth. He, sir, sitting, as I say, in a lower 
+chair, sir; ‘twasin the Bunch of Grapes, where 
+indeed you have a delight to sit, have you 
+not? 
+
+Froth. I have so; because it is aa open 
+room and good for winter. 
+
+Pom. Why, very well, then; I hope here 
+be truths. 
+
+Ang. This will last out a night in Russia, 
+When nights are longest there: I'll take my 
+
+leave, 140 
+And leave you to the hearing of the cause; 
+Hoping you'll find good cause to whip them 
+
+all. 
+
+Escal. 1 think no less. Good morrow to 
+
+your lordship. [Exit Angelo. 
+Now. sir, come on: what was done to Elbow’s 
+wife, once more? 
+
+Pom. Once, sir? there was nothing done to 
+her once. 
+
+Elb. I beseech you, sir, ask him what this 
+man did to my wife. 
+
+Pom. 1 beseech your honour, ask me. 150 
+
+Escal. Well, sir; what did this gentleman 
+to her? 
+
+Pom. I beseech you, sir, look in this gen- 
+tleman’s face. Good Master Froth, look upon 
+his honour; ‘tis for a good purpose. Doth 
+your honour mark his face? 
+
+Escal. Ay, sir, very well. 
+
+Pom. Nay, I beseech yex, mark it well. 
+
+Escal. Well, I do so, 
+
+
+Pom. Doth your honour see any harm in 
+his face? 161] 
+
+Escal. Why, no. 
+
+Pom. 1'll be supposed upon a book, his face 
+is the worst thing about him. Good, then; if 
+his face be the worst thing about. him, how 
+
+
+j 
+
+
+could Master Froth do the constable’s wife any. 
+
+
+harm? I would know that of your honour. 
+
+Escal. He's in the right. Constable, what 
+say you to it? 
+
+Eib. First, an it like you, the house is a re- 
+spected house; next, this is a respected fellow; 
+and his mistress is a respected woman. 
+
+Pom. By this hand, sir, his wife is a more 
+respected person than any of us all. 
+
+Elb. Varlet, thou liest; thou liest, wicked 
+varlet! the time is yet to come that she was 
+ever respected with man, woman, or child. 
+
+Pom. Sir, she was respected with him be- 
+fore he married with her. 
+
+Escal. Which is the wiser here? Justice or 
+Iniguity? Is this true? 18! 
+
+Elb. O thou caitiff! O thou varlet! O thou 
+wicked Hannibal! I respected with her before 
+I was married to her! If ever I was respected 
+with her, or she with me, let not your worship 
+think me the poor duke’s officer. Prove this. 
+thou wicked Hannibal, or I'll have mine 
+action of battery on thee. 
+
+Escal. If he took you a box o’ the ear, you 
+might have your action of slander too. 190 
+
+Elb. Marry, I thank your good worship for 
+it. What is't your worship’s pleasure I shall 
+do with this wicked caitiff >? 
+
+Escal. Truly, officer, because he hath some 
+offences in him that thou wouldst discover if 
+thou couldst let him continue in his courses 
+till thou knowest what they are. 
+
+Elb. Marry, I thank your worship for it. 
+Thou seest, thou wicked varlet, now, what's 
+come upon thee: thou art to continue now, 
+thou varlet; thou art to continue, 201 
+
+Escal. Where were you born, friend? 
+
+Froth. Here in Vienna, sir. 
+
+Escal. Are you of fourscore pounds a year? 
+
+Froth. Yes, an’t please you, sir. 
+
+Escal. So. What trade are you of, sir? 
+
+Pom. A tapster; a poor widow’s tapster. 
+
+Escal. Your mistress’ name? 
+
+Pom. Mistress Overdone. 
+
+Escal. Hath she had any more than one 
+husband > 211 
+Pom. Nine, sir; Overdone by the last. 
+
+Escal. Nine! Come hither to me, Master 
+Froth. Master Froth, | would not have you 
+acquainted with tapsters: they will draw you, 
+Master Froth, and you will hang them. Get 
+you gone, and let me hear no more of you. 
+
+Froth. 1 thank your worship. For mine 
+
+
+& 
+
+
+ie Semte ai.t eet 
+
+
+Act II, Sc. II] 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+89 
+
+
+own part, | never come into any room in a 
+tap-house, but I am drawn in. 220 
+
+Escal. Well, no more of it, Master Froth: 
+farewell. [Exit Froth.] Come you hither to 
+me, Master tapster. What's your name, Mas- 
+ter tapster > 
+
+Pom. Pompey. 
+
+Escal. What else? 
+
+Pom. Bun, sir. 
+
+Escal. Troth, and your bum is the greatest 
+thing about you; so that in the beastliest sense 
+you are Pompey the Great. Pompey, you are 
+partly a bawd, Pompey, howsoever you colour 
+it in being a tapster, are you not? Come, tell 
+me true: if shall be the better for you. 
+
+Pom. Truly, sir, I am a poor fellow that 
+would live. 
+
+Escal, How would you live, Pompey? by 
+being a bawd>? What do you think of the 
+trade, Pompey? is it a lawful trade> 
+
+Pom. If the law would allow it, sir. 
+
+_ Escal. But the law will not allow it, Pom- 
+pey; nor it shall not be allowed in Vienna. 241 
+
+Pom. Does your worship mean to geld and 
+splay all the youth of the city? 
+
+Escal. No, Pompey. 
+
+Pom. Truly, sir, in my poor opinion, they 
+will to’t then. If your worship will take order 
+for the drabs and the knaves, you need not to 
+fear the bawds. 
+
+Escal. There are pretty orders beginning, I 
+can tell you: it is but heading and hanging. 
+
+Pom. If you head and hang all that offend 
+that way but for ten year together, you'll be 
+glad to give out a commission for more heads: 
+if this law hold in Vienna ten year, I'll rent 
+the fairest house in it after three-pence a bay: 
+if you live to see this come to pass, say Pom- 
+pey told you so. 
+
+Escal. -Thank you, good Pompey; hen in 
+requital of your prophecy, hark you, I advise 
+you, let me not find you before me again upon 
+
+_ any complaint whatsoever; no, not for dwelling 
+where you do: if I do, Pompey, I shall beat 
+you to your tent, and prove a shrewd Cesar 
+to you; in plain dealing, Pompey, I shall 
+have you whipt: so, for this time, Pompey, 
+fare you well. 
+
+Pom. | thank your worship for your good 
+counsel: [Aside] but I shall follow it as the 
+flesh and fortune shall better determine. 
+Whip me? No, no; let carman whip his jade: 
+The valiant heart ’s not whipt out of his eal 
+
+xit. 
+
+Escal Come hither to me, Master Elbow; 
+come hither, Master constable. How long 
+have you been in this place of constable? 
+
+Elb. Seven year and a half, sir. 
+
+Escal. 1 thought, by your readiness in the 
+
+
+office, you had continued in it some time. You 
+say, seven years together? 
+
+Elb. And a half, sir. 
+
+Escal. Alas, it hath been great pains to 
+you. They do you wrong to put you so oft 
+upon’t: are there not men in your ward sufh- 
+cient to serve it? 
+
+Elb, Faith, sir, few of any wit in such mat- 
+ters: as they are chosen, they are glad to 
+choose me for them; I do it for some piece of 
+money, and go through with all. 
+
+Escal, Look you bring me in the names of 
+some six or seven, the most sufficient of you) 
+parish. 
+
+Elb. To your worship’s house, sir? 
+
+Escal. To my house. Fare you well. 
+
+
+[Exit Elbow, 
+
+What's o'clock, think you? 290 
+Just. Eleven, sir. 
+
+Escal. 1 pray you home to dinner with me, 
+
+
+Just. | humbly thank you. 
+
+Escal, It grieves me for the death of Claudiec; 
+But there’s no remedy. 
+
+Just. Lord Angelo is severe. 
+
+Escal. Tt is but needful: 
+Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so; 
+Pardon is still the nurse of second woe: 
+
+But yet, —poor Claudio! There is no remedy, 
+Come, sir. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. Another room in the same. 
+Enter Provost and a Servant. 
+Serv. He's hearing of a cause; he will 
+
+come straight: 
+I‘ll tell him of you. 
+Prov. Pray you, do. 
+I'll know 
+His pleasure; may be he will relent. Alas, 
+He hath but as offended in a dream! 
+All sects, all ages smack of this vice; and he 
+
+
+To die for'’t! 
+Enter ANGELO. 
+
+Ang. | Now, what's the matter, provost? 
+
+Prov. Is it your will Claudio shall die to. 
+
+morrow ? 
+
+Ang. Did not I tell thee yea? hadst thou 
+
+not order? 
+Why dost thou ask again? 
+
+Prov. Lest I might be too rash: 
+Under your good correction, | have seen, [0 
+When, after execution, judgement hath 
+Repented o’er his doom. 
+
+Ang. Go to; let that be mine: 
+Do you your office, or give up your place, 
+And you shall well be spared. 
+
+Prov. I crave your honour’s pardon. 
+What shall be done, sir, with the groaning 
+
+Juliet? 
+She’s very near her hour, 
+
+
+[Exit Servant.] 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+[Act II, Sc. Il 
+
+
+Ang. Dispose of her 
+To some more fitter place, and that with speed. 
+Re-enter Servant. 
+
+Serv. Here is the sister of the man con- 
+demn’d 
+Desires access to you. 
+Ang. Hath he a sister > 
+Prov. Ay, my good lord; a very virtuous 
+maid, 
+And to be shortly of a sisterhood, 
+
+
+If not already. 
+Ang, Well, let her be admitted. 
+[Exit Servant. 
+See you the fornicatress be removed: 
+Let her have needful, but not lavish, means; 
+There shall be order for’t. 
+
+
+Enter IsABELLA and Lucio. 
+
+
+Prov. God save your honour! 
+Ang. Stay alittle while. [To Isab.] You're 
+welcome: what's your will? 
+sab. 1 am a woeful suitor to your honour, 
+Please but your honour hear me. 
+Ang. Well; what's your suit? 
+!sab. There is a vice that most I do abhor, 
+And most desire should meet the blow of 
+justice; 30 
+For which I would not plead, but that I must; 
+For which I must not plead, but that I am 
+At war ‘twixt will and will noi. 
+Ang. Well; the matter? 
+Isab.. | have a brother is condemn’d to die: 
+do beseech you, let it be his fault, 
+And not my brother. 
+
+
+Prov. [Aside] Heaven give thee moving 
+graces! 
+Ang. Condemn the fault, and not the actor 
+Pie 
+of it? 
+
+
+Why, every fauli’s condemn’d ere it be done: 
+Mine were the very cipher of a function, 39 
+To fine the faults whose fine stands in rec- 
+ord, 
+And let go by the actor. 
+sab. O just but severe law! 
+1 had a brother, then. Heaven keep your 
+honour! 
+
+
+Lucio [Aside to Isab.] Give't not o'er so: 
+to him again, entreat him; 
+Knee] down before him, hang upon his gown: 
+You are too cold; if you should need a pin, 
+You could not with more tame a tongue de- 
+sire it: 
+
+
+To him, I say! 
+
+
+Isab. Must he needs die? 
+Ang. Maiden, no remedy. 
+Isab. Yes; I do think that you might par- 
+_ don him, 
+And neither heaven nor man grieve at the 
+mercy, 50 
+
+
+Ang. I will not do't. 
+
+Isab. But can you, if you would? 
+
+Ang. Look, what I will not, that I cannot 
+do. 
+
+Isab. But might you do’t, and do the world 
+no wrong, 
+
+
+If so your heart were touch’d with that remorse - 
+
+
+As mine is to him? 
+
+Ang. He’s sentenced; ‘tis too late. 
+
+Lucio. [Aside to Isab.] You are too cold, 
+
+Isab. Too late? why, no; I, that do speak 
+
+a word, 
+May call it back again. Well, believe this, 
+No ceremony that to great ones ‘longs, 5S 
+Not the king’s crown, nor the deputed sword, 
+The marshal’s truncheon, nor the judge’s robe, 
+Become them with one half so good a grace 
+As mercy does. 
+If he had been as you and you as he, 
+You would have slipt like him; but he, like you, 
+Would not have been so stern. 
+
+Ang. Pray you, be gone. 
+
+Tsab. I would to heaven I had your potency, 
+And you were Isabel! should it then be thus? 
+No; I would tell what ‘twere to be a judge, 
+And what a prisoner. 
+
+Lucio. [Aside to Isab.] Ay, touch him; 
+
+there’s the vein. 70 
+
+Ang. Your brother is a forfeit of the law, 
+And you but waste your words. 
+
+Tsab. Alas, alas! 
+Why, all the souls that were were forfeit once; 
+And He that might the vantage best have took 
+Found out the remedy. How would you be, 
+If He, which is the top of judgement, should 
+But judge you as you are? O, think on that; 
+And mercy thei will breathe within your lips. 
+Like man new made. 
+
+Ang. Be you content, fair maid; 
+It is the law, not I condemn your brother: 80 
+Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son, 
+
+It should be thus with him: he must die io- 
+morrow. 
+
+Isab. To-morrow! O, that’s sudden! Spare 
+
+him, spare him! 
+He's not prepared for death. Even for our 
+kitchens 
+We kill the fowl of season: shall we serve 
+heaven 
+With less respect than we do minister 
+To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, 
+bethink you; ' 
+Who is it that hath died for this offence? 
+There’s many have committed it. 
+Lucio. {Aside to Isab.] Ay, well said. 
+Ang. The law hath not been dead, though 
+it hath slept: 96 
+Those many had not dared to do that evil, 
+If the first that did the edict infringe 
+
+
+Act II, Se. II] 
+
+
+Had answer’d for his deed: now ‘tis awake, 
+
+Takes note of what is done; and, like a 
+prophet, 
+
+Looks in a glass, that shows what future 
+evils, 
+
+Either new, or by remissness new-conceived, 
+
+And so in progress to be hatch’d and born, 
+
+Are now to have no successive degrees, 
+
+But, ere they live, to end. 
+
+
+Isab. Yet show some pity. 
+Ang. I show it most of all when I show 
+justice; 100. 
+
+
+For then | pity those I do not know, 
+Which a dismiss’d offence would after gall; 
+And do him right that, answering one foul 
+wrong, 
+Lives not to act another. Be satisfied; 
+Your brother dies to-morrow; be content. 
+Isab. So you must be the first that gives 
+this sentence, 
+And he, that suffers. O, it is excellent 
+To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous 
+To use it like a giant. 
+' Lucio. [Aside to Isab.] That's well said. 
+Isab. Could great men thunder 110 
+As Jove himself does, Jove would ne’er be 
+quiet, 
+For every pelting, petty officer 
+Would use his heaven for thunder; 
+Nothing but thunder! Merciful Heaven, 
+Thou pbs with thy sharp and sulphurous 
+bolt 
+Split’st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak 
+Than the soft myrtle: but man, proud man, 
+Drest in a little brief authority, 
+Most ignorant of what he’s most assured, 
+His glassy essence, like an angry ape, 120 
+Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven 
+As make the angels weep; who, with our 
+spleens, 
+Would all themselves laugh mortal. 
+Lucio. [Aside to Isab.] O, to him, to kim, 
+wench! he will relent; 
+He’s coming; I perceive't. 
+Prov. [Aside] Pray heaven she win him! 
+
+
+Isab. We cannot weigh our brother with 
+ourself : 
+Great men may jest with sain\s; ‘tis wit in 
+thein, 
+
+
+But in the less foul profanation. 
+Lucio. Thou'rt 7’ the right, girl; more o’ 
+that. 
+Isab. That in the captain's but a choleric 
+word, 130 
+Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy. 
+Lucio. [Aside to Isab.] Art avised 0” that? 
+more on't. 
+Ang. Why do you put these sayings upon 
+me? 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+i) 
+
+
+Isab. Because authority, though it err like 
+others, 
+Hath yet a kind of medicine in iiself, 
+
+
+That skins the vice o’ the top. Go to your 
+bosom; 
+
+Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth 
+know 
+
+
+That's like my brother's fault: if it confess 
+A natural guiltiness such as is his, 
+Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue 
+Against my brother’s life. 
+Ang. [Aside] She speaks, and ‘tis 
+Such sense, that my sense breeds with it. Fare 
+you well, 142 
+Isab. Gentle my lord, turn back. 
+Ang. I will bethink me: come again to- 
+morrow. 
+Isab. Hark how I'll bribe you: good my 
+lord, turn back. 
+Ang. How! bribe me? 
+Isab. Ay, with such gifts that heaven shall 
+share with you. 
+
+
+Lucio. [Aside to Isab.] You had marr'd 
+all else. 
+Isab. Not with fond shekels of the tested 
+gold, 
+Or stones whose rates are either rich or 
+poor 150 
+
+
+As fancy values them; but with true prayers 
+That shall be up at heaven and enter there 
+Ere sun-rise, prayers from preserved souls, 
+From fasting maids whose minds are dedicate 
+To nothing temporal. 
+
+
+Ang. Well; come to me to-morrow. 
+Lucio. [Aside to Isab.] Go to; ‘tis well; 
+away! 
+
+
+Isab. Heaven keep your honour safe! 
+Ang. [Aside] Amen: 
+For I am that way going to temptation, 
+Where prayers cross. 
+Isab. At what hour to-morrow 
+Shall I attend your worship ? 
+Ang. At any time ‘fore noon. 160 
+Isab. ’Save your honour! 
+[Exeunt Isabella, Lucio, and Provost. 
+Ang. From thee, even from thy virtue! 
+What's this, what’s this? Is this her fault or 
+mine, 10 
+The tempter or the tempted, who sins most? 
+Ha! 
+Not she; nor doth she tempt: but it is I 
+That, lying by the violet in the sun, 
+Do as the carrion does, not as the flower, 
+Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be 
+That modesty may more betray our sense 
+Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground 
+enough, 170 
+Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary 
+
+
+And pitch our evils there? O, fie. fie, fie! 
+
+
+92 
+
+
+What dost thou, or what art thou, Angelo? 
+
+Dost thou desire her foully for those things 
+
+That make her good? O, let her brother live: 
+
+Thieves for their robbery have authority 
+
+When judges steal themselves. What, do I 
+love her, 
+
+That I desire to hear her speak again, 
+
+And feast upon her eyes? What is't | dream 
+on? 
+
+O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint, 180 
+
+With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous 
+
+Is that temptation that doth goad us on 
+
+To sin in loving virtue: never could the 
+strumpet, 
+
+With all her double vigour, art and nature, 
+
+Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid 
+
+Subdues me quite. Ever till now, 
+
+When men were fond, I smiled and wonder’d 
+
+
+how. [Exit. 
+
+
+Scene III. A room in a prison. 
+
+
+“inter, severally, DUKE disguised as a friar, 
+and Provost. 
+
+
+Duke. Hail to you, provost! so I think you 
+are. 
+Prov. I am the provost. What's your 
+will, good friar? 
+Duke. Bound by my charity and my blest 
+order, 
+I come to visit the afflicted spirits 
+Here in the prison. Do me the common right 
+To let me see them and to make me know 
+The nature of their crimes, that 1 may minister 
+To them accordingly. 
+Prov. 1 would do more than that, if more 
+were needed, 
+
+
+Enter JULIET. 
+
+
+Look here comes one: a gentlewoman of 
+mine, 
+Who, falling in the flaws of her own youth, 
+Hath blister'd her report: she is with child; 
+And he that got it, sentenced; a young man 
+More fit to do another such office 
+Than die tor this. 
+Duke. When must he die? 
+Prov. As I do think, to-morrow, 
+VY have provided for you: stay awhile, [To 
+Juliet.] 
+And you shall be conducted. 
+Duke. Repent you, fair one, of the sin you 
+carry? 
+Jul. 1 do; and bear the shame most pa- 
+tiently. 
+Duke. 111 teach you how you shall arraign 
+your conscience, 
+And try your penitence, if it be sound, 
+Or hollowly put on. 
+Jul. I'll gladly learn. 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+Duke. Love you the man that wrong’d you? 
+
+Jul. Yes, as I love the woman that wrong’d 
+
+him. 
+
+Duke. So then it seems your most offenceful 
+
+act 
+Was mutually committed ? 
+
+Jul. Mutually, 
+
+Duke. Then was your sin of heavier kind 
+
+than his. yh 
+
+Jul. 1 do confess it, and repent it, father. 
+
+Duke. "Tis meet so, daughter: but lest you 
+
+do repent, 30 
+
+As that the sin hath brought you to this shame, 
+
+Which sorrow is always toward ourselves, not 
+heaven, 
+
+Showing we would not spare heaven as we 
+love it, 
+
+But as we stand in fear,— 
+
+Jul. Ido repent me, as it is an evil, 
+
+And take the shame with joy. 
+
+Duke. There rest. 
+Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow, 
+And I am going with instruction to him. 
+Grace go with you, Benedicite! [Exit 
+
+Jul. Must die to-morrow! © injurious 
+
+love, 
+That respites me a life, whose very comfort 
+Is still a dying horror! 
+Prov. ’Tis pity of him. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. A room in ANGELO’S house. 
+Enter ANGELO. 
+
+
+Ang. When I would pray and think, 1 
+
+think and pray 
+
+To several subjects. 
+words; « 
+
+Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue, 
+
+Anchors on Isabel: Heaven in my mouth, 
+
+As if I did but only chew his name; 
+
+And in my heart the strong and swelling evil 
+
+Of my conception. The state, whereon I 
+studied, 
+
+Is like a good thing, being often read, 
+
+Grown fear'd and tedious; yea, my gravity, 
+
+Wherein—let no man hear me—I take pride, 
+
+Could | with boot change for an idle plume, 
+
+
+Heaven hath my empty 
+
+
+[Act Il, Se. Ill 
+
+
+Which the air beats for vain. O place, O form, ; 
+
+
+How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit, 
+Wrench awe from fools and tie the wiser souls 
+To thy false seeming! Blood, thou art blood: 
+Let ’s write good angel on the devil 's horn; 
+‘Tis not the devil’s crest. 
+
+
+Enter a SERVANT. 
+
+
+Now now! who's there? 
+Serv. One Isabel, a sister, desires access ta 
+you. 
+
+
+Ang. Teach her the way. [Exit Serv.] O 
+
+
+heavens! 
+
+
+* 
+
+
+ae 
+
+
+- Act Il, Se. IV] 
+
+
+ere 
+
+
+Why does my blood thus muster to my heart, 
+
+Making both it unable for itself, 
+
+And dispossessing all my other parts 
+
+OF necessary fitness? 
+
+So play the foolish throngs with one that 
+swoons; 
+
+Come all to help him, and so stop the air 
+
+By which he should revive: and even so 
+
+The general, subject to a well-wish’d king, 
+
+Quit their own part, and in obsequious fond- 
+ness 
+
+Crowd to his presence, where their untaught 
+love ¢ 
+
+Must needs appear offence. 
+
+
+Enter IsABELLA. 
+
+
+How now, fair maid? 
+Isab. 1 am come to know your pleasure. 31 
+Ang. That you might know it, would much 
+better please me 
+Than to demand what "tis. 
+not live. 
+Tsab, Even so. Heaven keep your honour! 
+Ang. Yet may he live awhile; and, it may 
+be, 
+As long as you or I: yet he must die. 
+Isab. Under your sentence? 
+
+
+Your brother can- 
+
+
+Ang. Yea. 
+Tsab. When, I beseech you? that in his 
+reprieve, f 
+
+
+Longer or shorter, he may be so fitted 40 
+That his soul sicken not. 
+Ang. Ha! fie, these filthy vices! It were 
+as good 
+To pardon him that hath from nature stolen 
+A man already made, as to remit 
+Their saucy sweetness that do coin heaven's 
+_ Image 
+In stamps that are forbid: ‘tis all as easy 
+Falsely to take away a life true made 
+As to put metal in restrained means 
+To make a false one. 
+Isab. “Tis set down so in heaven, but not 
+
+
+in earth, 50 
+Ang. Say you so? then I shall pose you 
+quickly. 
+
+
+Which had you rather, that the most just law 
+Now took vour brother’s life; or, to redeem 
+him, 
+Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness 
+As she that he hath stain’d? 
+Isab. Sir, believe this, 
+i had rather give my body than my soul. 
+Ang. I talk not of your soul: our compell’d 
+sins 
+Stand more for number than for accompt. 
+Isab. How say you? 
+Ang. Nay, i'll not warrant that; for I 
+can speak 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+93 
+
+
+Against the thing I say. Answer to this: 60 
+I, now the voice of the recorded law, 
+Pronounce a sentence on your brother's life: 
+Might there not be a charity in sin 
+To save this brother’s life? 
+Isab. Please you to do’t. 
+I'll take it as a peril to my soul, 
+It is no sin at all, but charity. 
+Ang. Pleased you to do’t at peril of your 
+soul, 
+Were equal poise of sin and charity. 
+Isab. That I do beg his life if it be sin, 
+Heaven let me bear it! you granting of my 
+suit, 70 
+If that be sin, I ‘Il make it my morn prayer 
+To have it added to the faults of mine, 
+And nothing of your answer. 
+Ang. Nay, but hear me. 
+Your sense pursues not mine: either you are 
+ignorant, . 
+Or seem so craftily; and that’s not good. 
+Isab. Let me be ignorant, and in nothing 
+good, 
+But graciously to know I am no better. 
+Ang. Thus wisdom wishes to appear most 
+bright 
+When it doth tax itself; as these black masks 
+Proclaim an enshield beauty ten times louder 86 
+Than beauty could, display’d. Put mark me; 
+To be received plain, I ll speak more gross: 
+Your brother is to die, 
+Isab. So. 
+Ang. And his offence isso, as it appears, 
+Accouniant to the law upon that paip. 
+Isab. True. 
+Ang. Admit no other way to save his life,— 
+As I subscribe not that, nor any other, 
+But in the loss of question,—that you, his 
+sister, 
+Finding yourself desired of such a person, 91 
+Whose credit with the judge, or own great 
+place, 
+Could fetch your brother from the manacles 
+Of the all-building law; and that there were 
+No earthly mean to save him, but that either 
+You must lay down the treasures of your body 
+To this supposed, or else to let him suffer, 
+What would you do? 
+Techs As much for my poor brother as my- 
+self ; 
+That is, were I under the terms of death, 100 
+The impression of keen whips I Id wear as 
+rubies, 
+And strip myself to. death, as to a bed 
+That longing have been sick for, ere I'Id 
+My body up toshame. . 
+Ang. Then must your brother die. 
+Isab, And ‘twere the cheaper way: 
+Better it were a brother died at apze, 
+
+
+94 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+[Acr III, Se. 4 
+
+
+Than that a sister, by redeeming him, 
+Should die for ever. 
+Ang. Were not you then as cruel as the 
+sentence 
+That you have slander’d so? 110 
+Isab. Ignomy in ransom and free pardon 
+Are of two houses: lawful mercy 
+Is nothing kin to foul redemption. 
+Ang. You seem’'d of late to make the lawa 
+tyrant; 
+And rather proved the sliding of your brother 
+A merriment than a vice. 
+Isab. O, pardon me, my lord; it oft falls 
+out, 
+To have what we would have, we speak not 
+what we mean: 
+I something do excuse the thing I hate, 
+For his advantage that I dearly love, 
+Ang. We are all frail. 
+Isab. Else let rn) brother die, 
+If not a feodary, but only he 
+Owe and succeed thy weakness. 
+Ang. Nay, women are frail too. 
+Isab. Ay, as the glasses where they view 
+themselves; 
+Which are as easy broke as they make forms. 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+Women! Help Heaven! men their creation 
+mar 
+
+In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times 
+frail; 
+
+
+For we are soft as our complexions are, 129 
+And credulous to false prints. 
+
+Ans, I think it well: 
+And from this testimony of your own sex,— 
+Since I suppose we are made to be no stronger 
+Than faults may shake our frames,—let me be 
+
+bold: 
+| do arrest your words. Be that you are, 
+That is, a woman; if you be more, you ‘re 
+none; 
+If you be one, as you are well express’d 
+By all external warrants, show it now, 
+By puiting on the destined livery. 
+
+
+Isab. | have no tongue but one: gentle my 
+lord, 
+
+Let me entreat you speak the former lan- 
+
+guage. 140 
+
+
+Ang. Plainly conceive, | love you. 
+Isab. My brother did love Juliet, 
+And you tell me that he shall die for it. 
+Ang. He shall not, Isabel, if you give me 
+love. 
+Isab. I know your virtue hath a license in’t, 
+Which seems a little fouler than it is, 
+To pluck on others. 
+Ang. Believe me, on mine honour, 
+My words express my purpose. 
+Isab. Ha! little honour to be much be- 
+lieved, 
+
+
+oe ee Se 
+
+
+And most pernicious purpose! Seeming, seem- 
+ing! 150 
+
+I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for’t: 
+
+Sign me a present pardon for my brother, 
+
+Or with an outstretch'd throat I'll tell the 
+world aloud 
+
+What man thou art. 
+
+Ang. Who will believe thee, Isabel? 
+My unsoil'd name, the austereness of my life, 
+My vouch against you, and my place i’ the 
+
+state, 
+Will so your accusation overweigh, 
+That you shall stifle in your own report 
+And smell of calumny. I have begun, 
+And now I give my sensual race the rein: 160 
+Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite; 
+Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes, 
+That banish what they sue for; redeem thy 
+brother 
+By yielding up thy body to my will; 
+Or else he must not only die the death, 
+But thy unkindness shall his death draw out 
+To lingering sufferance. Answer me to-morrow, 
+Or, by the affection that now guides me most, 
+I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you, 
+Say what you can, my false o’erweighs your 
+true. [Exit. 
+
+Isab. To whom should I complain? Did I 
+
+tell this, 17] 
+Who would believe me? O perilous mouths, 
+That bear in them one and the self-same 
+
+tongue, 
+Either of condemnation or approof; 
+Bidding the law make court’sy to their will; 
+Hooking both right and wrong to the appetite, 
+To follow as # draws! I'll to my brother: 
+Though he hath fall’n by prompture of the 
+blood, 
+Yet hath he in him such a mind of honour, 
+That, had he twenty heads to tender down 180 
+On twenty bloody blocks, he ‘Id yield them up, 
+Before his sister should her body stoop 
+To such abhorr'd pollution. 
+Then, Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die: 
+More than our brother is our chastity. 
+I'll tell him yet of Angelo’s request, 
+And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest, 
+[Exit 
+ACT III. 
+
+
+ScENE I. A room in the prison. 
+
+
+Enter DUKE disguised as before, CLAUDIO, 
+and Provost. 
+
+
+Duke. So then you hope of pardon from 
+Lord Angelo? 
+Claud. The miserable have no other medi- 
+* cine 
+But only hope: 
+I've hope to live, and am prepared to die, 
+
+
+Acr III, Sc. 1] 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+95 
+
+
+Duke. Be absolute for death; either death 
+or life 
+Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus 
+with life: 
+
+
+If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing 
+
+That none but fools would keep: a breath 
+thou art, 
+
+Servile to all the skyey influences, 
+
+That dost this habitation, where thou keep’st, 10 
+
+Hourly afflict: merely, thou art death's fool; 
+
+For him thou labour’st by thy flight to shun 
+
+And yet runn’st toward him still. 
+not noble; 
+
+For all the accommodations that thou bear'st 
+
+Ayre nursed by baseness. Thou'rt by no means 
+valiant; 
+
+For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork 
+
+Of a poor worm. Thy best of rest is sleep, 
+
+And that thou oft provokest; yet grossly fear’st 
+
+Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not 
+thyself ; 
+
+_ For thou exist’st on many a thousand grains 
+That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not; 
+For what thou hast not, still thou strivest to 
+
+
+get, 
+And what thou hast, forget’st. Thou art not 
+certain; 
+Foy thy complexion shifts to strange effects, 
+After the moon. If thou art rich, thou’rt poor; 
+For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows, 
+Thou bear’st thy heavy riches but a journey, 
+And death unloads thee. Friend hast thou 
+none; 
+For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire, 
+The mere effusion of thy proper loins, 30 
+Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum, 
+For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor 
+youth nor age, 
+But, as it were, an after-dinner’s sleep, 
+Dreaming on both; for all thy blessed youth 
+Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms 
+Of palsied eld; and when thou art old and rich, 
+Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor 
+beauty, 
+To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in 
+this 
+That bears the name of life? Yet in this life 
+Lie hid moe thousand deaths: yet death we 
+fear, 
+That makes these odds all even. 
+Claud. I humbly thank you. 41 
+To sue to live, I find I seek to die; 
+And, seeking death, find life: let it come on. 
+Isab... [Within] What, ho! Peace here; 
+grace and good company! 
+Prov. Who's there? come in: 
+deserves a welcome. 
+Durie. Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again. 
+
+
+Claud. Most holy sir, I thank you. 
+
+
+the wish 
+
+
+Thou art. 
+
+
+Enter IsaBELLA. 
+
+
+Isab. My business is a word or two with 
+Claudio. 
+Prov. And very welcome. Look, signior, 
+here’s your sister. 
+Duke. Provost, a word with you. 50 
+Prov. As many as you please. 
+Duke. Bring me to hear them speak, where 
+I may be concealed. 
+[Exeunt Duke and Provost. 
+Claud. Now, sister, what’s the comfort? 
+Isab. Why, 
+As all comforts are; most good, most good 
+indeed. 
+Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven, 
+Intends you for his swift ambassador, 
+Where you shall be an everlasting leiger: 
+Therefore your best appointment make with 
+
+
+speed; 60 
+To-morrow you set on. 
+Claud. Is there no remedy ? 
+
+
+Isab. None, but such remedy as, to save 2 
+head, 
+To cleave a heart in twain. 
+Claud. But is there any? 
+Isab. Yes, brother, you may live: 
+There is a devilish mercy in the judge, 
+If you'll implore it, that will free your life. 
+But fetter you till death. 
+Claud. Perpetua! durance? 
+Isab. Ay, just; perpetual durance, a re- 
+straint, 
+Though all the world’s vastidity you had, 
+To a determined scope. 
+Claud. But in what nature? 70 
+Isab. In such a one as, you consenting to’t, 
+Would bark your honour from that trunk you 
+bear, 
+And leave you naked. 
+Claud. Let me know the point. 
+Isab. ©, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I 
+quake, 
+Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain, 
+And six or seven winters more respect 
+Than a perpetual honour. Darest thou die? 
+The sense of death is most in apprehension; 
+And the poor beetle, that we tread upon, 
+In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great 80 
+As when a giant dies. 
+Claud. Why give you me this shame? 
+Think you I can a resolution fetch 
+From flowery tenderness? If I must die, 
+I will encounter darkness as a bride, 
+And hug it in mine arms. 
+Isab. There spake my brother; there my 
+father’s grave 
+Did utter forth a voice. Yes, thou must die: 
+
+
+Thou art too noble to conserve a life 
+
+
+96 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+Aa Dy 
+Ae ea, 
+y 
+
+
+In base appliances. This outward-sainted 
+deputy, 
+
+Whose settled visage and deliberate word 90 
+
+Nips youth i’ the head and follies doth emmew 
+
+As falcon doth the fowl, is yet a devil; 
+
+His filth within being cast, he would appear 
+
+A pond as deep as hell. 
+
+Claud, The prenzie Angelo! 
+
+Isab. O, ‘tis the cunning livery of hell, 
+The damned’st body to invest and cover 
+In prenzie guards! Dost thou think, Claudio? 
+If 1 would yield him my virginity, 
+
+Thou mightst be freed. 
+Claud. O heavens! it cannot be. 
+Isab. Yes, he would give’t thee, from this 
+rank offence, 100 
+So to offend him still. This night's the time 
+That I should do what | abhor to name, 
+Or else thou diest to-morrow. 
+Claud. Thou shalt not do’t 
+Isab. O, were it but my life, 
+I'ld throw it down for your deliverance 
+As frankly as a pin. 
+
+Claud. Thanks, dear Isabel. 
+
+Isab. Be ready, Claudio, for your death to- 
+
+morrow. 
+
+Claud. Yes. Has he affections in him, 
+That thus can make him bite the law by the 
+
+nose, 
+When he would force it? Sure, it is no sin; 
+Or of the deadly seven it is the least. 
+
+Isab. Which is the least? 
+
+Claud. If it were damnable, he being so wise, 
+Why would he for the momentary trick 
+Be perdurably fined? O Isabel! 
+
+Isab. What says my brother? 
+
+Claud. Death is a fearful thing. 
+
+Isab. And shamed life a hateful. 
+
+Claud. Ay, but to die, and go we know not 
+
+where; 
+To lie in cold obstruction and to rot; 
+This sensible warm motion to become 
+A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit 
+To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside 
+In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice; 
+To be imprison’d in the viewless winds, 
+And blown with restless violeace round about 
+The pendent world; or to be worse than worst 
+Of those that lawless and incertain thought 
+Imagine howling: ‘tis too horrible! 
+The weariest and most loathed worldly life 
+That age, ache, penury and imprisonment 130 
+Can lay on nature is a paradise 
+To what we fear of death. 
+
+Isab. Alas, alas! 
+
+Claud. Sweet sister, let me five: 
+What sin you do to save a brother's life, 
+Nature dispenses with the deed so far 
+That it becomes a virtue. 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+Isab. O you beast! 
+O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch! 
+Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice? 
+Is't not a kind of incest, to take life 
+From thine own sister's shame? What should 
+I think? 140 
+Heaven shield my mother play’d my father fair! 
+For such a warped slip of wilderness 
+Ne’er issued from his blood. Take my defiance! 
+Die, perish! Might but my bending down 
+Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed: 
+I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy death, 
+No word to save thee. 
+
+Claud. Nay, hear me, Isabel. 
+
+Tsab. O, fie, fie, fie! 
+Thy sin’s not accidental, but a trade. 
+
+Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd: 150 
+‘Tis best that thou diest quickly. 
+
+Claud. 
+Re-enter DUKE. 
+
+Duke. Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but 
+
+one word. 
+
+Tsab. What is your will? 
+
+Duke. Might you dispense with your lei- 
+sure, I would by and by have some speech 
+with you: the satisfaction I would require is 
+likewise your own benefit. 
+
+Isab, | have no superfluous leisure; my stay 
+must be stolen out of other affairs; but I will 
+attend you awhile. [Walks apart. 
+
+Duke. -Son, I have overheard what hath 
+passed between you and your sister, Angelo 
+had never the purpose to corrupt her; only he 
+hath made an assay of her virtue to practise his 
+judgement with the disposition of natures: she, 
+having the truth of honour in her, hath made 
+him that gracious denial which he is most glad 
+to receive. I am confessor to Angelo, and I 
+know this to be true; therefore prepare your- 
+self to death: do not satisfy your resolution 
+with hopes that are fallible: to-morrow you 
+must die; go to your knees and make ready. 
+
+Claud. Let me ask my sister pardon. I am 
+so out of love with life that I will sue to be 
+rid of it. 
+
+Duke. Hold you there: farewell. [Exit 
+Claudio.] Provost, a word with you! 
+
+
+Re-enter Provost. 
+
+
+Prov, What's your will, father? 
+
+Duke. That now you are come, you will be 
+gone. Leave me awhile with the maid: my 
+mind promises with my habit no loss shall 
+touch her by my company. 
+
+Prov. In good time. 
+
+[Extt Provost. Isabella comes forward. 
+
+
+[Acr III, Se. 1 
+
+
+O hear me, Isabella! — 
+
+
+. 
+
+
+Duke. The hand that hath made you fair — 
+
+
+hath made you good: the goodness that is cheap 
+in beauty makes beauty brief in goodness; but 
+
+
+Acr Ill, Sc. Il] 
+
+
+grace, being the sou! of your complexion, shall 
+keep the body of it ever fair. The assault that 
+Angelo hath made to you, fortune hath con- 
+veyed to my understanding; and, but that 
+frailty hath examples for his falling, I should 
+wonder at Angelo. How will you do to con- 
+tent this substitute, and to save your brother ? 
+
+Isab. I am now going to resolve him; | had 
+rather my brother die by the law than my son 
+should be unlawfully born. But, O, how much 
+is the good duke deceived in Angelo! If ever 
+he return and I can speak to him, | will open 
+my lips in vain, or discover his government. 
+
+Duke. That shall not be much amiss: yet, 
+as the matter now stands, he will avoid your 
+accusation; he made trial of you only. There- 
+fore fasten your ear on my advisings: to the 
+love I have in doing good a remedy presents 
+itself. 1 do make myself believe that you may 
+most uprighteously do a poor wronged lady a 
+_ merited benefit; redeem your brother from the 
+angry law; do no stain to your own gracious 
+person; and much please the absent duke, if 
+peradventure he shali ever return to have hear- 
+ing of this business. 211 
+
+Tsab. Let me hear you speak farther. | 
+have spirit io do any thing that appears not 
+foul in the truth of my spirit. 
+
+Duke. Virtue is bold, and goodness never 
+fearful. Have you not heard speak of Mari- 
+ana, the sister of Frederick the great soldier 
+who miscarried at sea? 
+
+Isab. I have heard of the lady, and dood 
+words went with her name. 220 
+
+Duke. She should this Angelo have married; 
+was afhanced to her by oath, and the nuptial 
+appointed: between which time of the contract 
+and limit of the solemnity, her brother Fred- 
+erick was wrecked at sea, having in that per- 
+ished vessel the dowry of his sister. But mark 
+how heavily this befell to the poor gentlewo- 
+man: there she lost a noble and renowned 
+brother, in his love toward her ever most kind 
+and natural; with him, the portion and sinew of 
+her fortune, her marriage-dowry ; with both, her 
+combinate husband, this well-seeming Angelo. 
+
+Isab. Can this be so? did Angelo so leave 
+her? 
+
+Duke. Left her in her tears, and dried not 
+one of them with his comfort; swallowed his 
+vows whole, pretending in her discoveries of 
+dishonour: in few, bestowed her on her own 
+lamentation, which she yet wears for his sake; 
+and he,a marble to her tears, is washed with 
+them, but relents not. 
+
+Isab. What a merit were it in death to take 
+this poor maid from the world! What corrup- 
+tion in this life, that it will let this man live! 
+But how aut of this can she avai? 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+97 
+
+
+Duke. It is a rupture that you may easily 
+heal: and the cure of it not only saves your 
+brother, but keeps you from dishonour in do- 
+ing it. 
+
+Isab. Show me how, good father. 
+
+Duke. This forenamed maid hath yet in her 
+the continuance of her first affection: his un- 
+just unkindness, that in all reason should have 
+quenched her love, hath, like an impediment 
+in the current, made it more violent and un- 
+ruly. Go you to Angelo; answer his requiring 
+with a plausible obedience; agree with his de- 
+mands to the point; only refer yourself to this 
+advantage, first, that your stay with him may 
+not be long; that the time may have all shadow 
+and silence in it; and the place answer to con- 
+venience. This being granted in course,—and 
+now follows all,—we shall advise this wronged 
+maid to stead up your appointment, go in your 
+place; if the encounter acknowledge itself 
+hereafter, it may compel him to her recom- 
+pense: and here, by this, is your brother saved, 
+your honour untainted, the poor Mariana ad- 
+vantaged, and the corrupt deputy scaled. The 
+maid will I frame and make fit for this at. 
+tempt. If you think well to carry this as you 
+may, the doubleness of the benefit defends the 
+deceit from reproof. What think you of it? 
+
+Isab. The image of it gives me content 
+already; and I trust it will grow to a most 
+prosperous perfection. 
+
+Duke. It lies much in your holding up. Haste 
+you speedily to Angelo: if for this night he 
+entreat you to his bed, give him promise of sat- 
+isfaction. I will presently to Saint Luke's: there, 
+at the moated grange, resides this dejected 
+Mariana. At that place call upon me; and dis- 
+patch with Angelo, that it may be quickly. 279 
+
+Isab. I thank you for this comfort. Fare 
+you well, good father. [Exeunt severally, 
+
+
+Scene II. The street before the prison. 
+
+
+Enter, on one side, DUKE disguised as be« 
+fore; on the other, Etsow, and Officers 
+with Pompey. 
+
+
+Elb, Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but 
+that you will needs buy and sell men and 
+women like beasts, we shall have all the world 
+drink. brown and white bastard. 
+
+Duke. O heavens! what stuff is here? 
+
+Pom. “Twas never merry world since, of two 
+usuries, the merriest was put down, and the 
+worser allowed by order of law a furred gown 
+to keep him warm; and furred with fox and 
+lambskins too, to signify, that craft, being 
+richer than innocency, stands for the facing. 11 
+
+Elb. Come your way, sir. "Bless you, good 
+father friar, 
+
+
+98 
+
+
+Duke. And you, good brother father. What 
+offence hath this man made you, sir? 
+
+Elb. Marry, sir, he hath offended the law: 
+and, sir, we take him to be a thief too, sir; for 
+we have found upon him, sir, a strange pick- 
+lock, which we have sent to the deputy. 
+
+Duke. Fie, sirrah! a bawd, a wicked bawd! 
+The evil that thou causest to be done, 21 
+That is thy means to live. Do thou but think 
+What ‘tis to cram a maw or clothe a back 
+From such a filthy vice: say to thyself, 
+
+From their abominable and beastly touches 
+
+I drink, I eat, array myself, and live. 
+
+Canst thou believe thy living is a life, 
+
+So stinkingly depending? Go mend, go mend. 
+
+Pom. Indeed, it does stink in some sort, 
+sir; but yet, sir, I would prove— 30 
+
+Duke. Nay, if the devil have given thee 
+
+proofs for sin, 
+Thou wilt prove his. Take him 
+officer: 
+Correction and instruction must both work 
+Ere this rude beast will profit. 
+
+Elb. He must before the deputy, sir; he 
+has given him warning: the deputy cannot 
+abide a whoremaster: if he be a whoremon- 
+ger, and comes before him, he were as good 
+go a mile on his errand. 
+
+Duke. That we were all, as some would 
+
+seem to be, 40 
+{From our fault as faults from seeming, free! 
+
+Elb. His neck will come to your waist,—a 
+
+cord, sir. 
+
+Pom. I spy comfort; I cry bail. Here's a 
+gentleman and a friend of mine. 
+
+
+to prison, 
+
+
+Enter Lucio. 
+
+
+Lucio. How now, noble Pompey! What, 
+at the wheels of Cesar? art thou led in tri- 
+umph>? What, is there none of Pygmalion's 
+images, newly made woman, to be had now, 
+for putting the hand in the pocket and extract- 
+ing it clutched? What reply, ha? What 
+sayest thou to this tune, matter and method? 
+Is't not drowned i’ the last rain, ha? What 
+sayest thou, Trot? Is the world as it was, 
+man? Which is the way? Is it sad, and few 
+words? or how? The trick of it? 
+
+Duke. Still thus, and thus; still worse! 
+
+Lucio. How doth my dear morsel, thy mis- 
+tress? Procures she still, ha? 
+
+Pom. Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her 
+beef, and she is herself in the tub. 59 
+
+Lucio. Why, ‘tis good; it is the right of it; 
+it must be so: ever your fresh whore and your 
+powdered bawd: an unshunned consequence; 
+it must be so. Art going to prison, Pompey ? 
+
+Pom. Yes, faith, sir, 
+
+Lucio. Why, ‘tis not amiss, Pompey. Fare- 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+[Act III, Sc. Il 
+
+
+well: go say I sent thee thither. For debt, 
+Pompey, or how? 
+
+Elb. For being a bawd, for being a bawd. 
+
+Lucio. Well, then, imprison him: if im- 
+prisonment be the due of a bawd, why, ‘tis 
+his right: bawd is he doubtless, and of an- 
+tiquity too; bawd-born. Farewell, good Pom- 
+pey. Commend me to the prison, Pompey: 
+you will turn good husband now, Pompey; 
+you will keep the house. 
+
+Pom. | hope, sir, your good worship will 
+be my bail. 
+
+Lucio. No, indeed, will I not, Pompey; it 
+is not the wear. I will pray, Pompey, to 
+increase your bondage: if you take it not pa- 
+tiently, why, your mettle is the more. Adieu, 
+trusty Pompey, ‘Bless you, friar. 81 
+
+Duke. And you. 
+
+Lucio. Does Bridget paint still, Pompey, ha? 
+
+Elb. Come your ways, sir; come. 
+
+Pom. You will not bail me, then, sir? 
+
+Lucio. Then, Pompey, nor now. What 
+news abroad, friar? what news? 
+
+Elb. Come your ways, sir; come. 
+
+Lucio. Go to kennel, Pompey; go. [Exeuni 
+Elbow, Pompey and Officers.] What news, 
+friar, of the duke? 91 
+
+Duke. 1 know none. Can you tell me of any? 
+
+Lucio. Some say he is with the Emperor of 
+Russia; other some, he is in Rome: but where 
+is he, think you? 
+
+Duke. 1 know not where; but wheresoever, 
+I wish him weli. 
+
+Lucio. It was a mad fantastical trick of him 
+to steal from the state, and usurp the beggary he 
+was never born to. Lord Angelo dukes it well 
+in his absence; he puts transgression to’t. 101] 
+
+Duke. He does well in't. 
+
+Lucio. A little more lenity to lechery would 
+do no harm in him: something too crabbed 
+that way, friar. 
+
+Duke. It is too general a vice, and severity 
+must cure it. 
+
+Lucio. Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a 
+great kindred; it is well allied: but it is im- 
+possible to extirp it quite, friar, till eating and 
+drinking be put down. They say this Angelo 
+was not made by man and woman after this 
+downright way of creation: is it true, think you? 
+
+Duke. How should he be made, then? 
+
+Lucio. Some report a sea-maid spawned 
+him; some, that he was begot between two 
+stock-fishes. But it is certain that’ when he 
+makes water his urine is congealed ice; that I 
+know to be true: fand he is a motion genera- 
+tive; that’s infallible. 
+
+Duke. You are pleasant, sir, and speak 
+apace. 120 
+
+Lucio. Why, what a ruthless thing is this in 
+
+
+he” hes 
+, 
+
+
+be 
+
+
+Act III, Sc. I] 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+99 
+
+
+him, for the rebellion of a codpiece to take away 
+the life of aman! Would the duke that is ab- 
+sent have done this? Ere he would have hanged 
+a man for the getting a hundred bastards, he 
+would have paid for the nursing a thousand: 
+he had some feeling of the sport; he knew the 
+service, and that instructed him to mercy. 
+
+
+Duke. I never heard the absent duke much 
+detected for women; he was not inclined that 
+way. 
+
+Lucio. O, sir, you are deceived. 131 
+
+Duke. "Tis not possible. : 
+
+Lucio. Who, not the duke? yes, your beggar 
+
+
+of fifty; and his use was to put a ducat in her 
+clack-dish: the duke had crotchets in him. He 
+would be drunk too; that let me inform 
+you. 
+
+Duke. You do him wrong, surely. 
+
+Lucio. Sir, | was an inward of his. A shy 
+fellow was the duke: and I believe I know 
+the cause of his withdrawing. 140 
+
+Duke. What, I prithee, might be the cause ? 
+
+Lucio. No, pardon; ‘tis a secret must be 
+locked within the teeth and the lips: but this I 
+can let you understand, the greater file of the 
+subject held the duke to be wise. 
+
+Duke. Wise! why, no question but he was. 
+
+Lucio. A very superficial, ignorant, un- 
+weighing fellow. 
+
+Duke. Either this is envy in you, folly, or 
+mistaking: the very stream of his life and the 
+business he hath helmed must upon a war- 
+ranted need give him a better proclamation. 
+Let him be but testimonied in his own bring- 
+ings-forth, and he shall appear to the envious 
+a scholar, a statesman and a soldier. Therefore 
+you speak unskilfully; or if your knowledge 
+be more it is much darkened in your malice. 
+
+Lucio. Sir, | know him, and I love him. 
+
+Duke. Love talks with better knowledge, 
+and knowledge with dearer love. 160 
+
+Lucio. Come, sir, I know what I know. 
+
+Duke. 1 can hardly believe that, since you 
+know not what you speak. But, if ever the 
+duke return, as our prayers are he may, let me 
+desire you to make your answer before him. 
+If it be honest you have spoke, you have cour- 
+age to maintain it: | am bound to call upon 
+you; and, I pray you, your name? 
+
+
+Lucio. Sir, my name is Lucio; well known 
+fo the duke. 170 
+Duke. He shali know you better, sir, if I 
+
+
+may live to report you. 
+
+Lucto. I fear you not. 
+
+Duke. O, you hope the duke will return no 
+more; or you imagine me too unhurtful an 
+ppposite. But indeed I can do you little harm; 
+you'll forswear this again. 
+
+Lucio. 
+
+
+I ‘ll be hanged first: thou art deceived , 
+
+
+in me, friar. But no more of this. Canst thou 
+tell if Claudio die to-morrow or no? 180 
+
+
+Duke. Why should he die, sir? 
+Lucio. Why? For filling a bottle with a 
+tun-dish. I would the duke we talk of were 
+
+
+returned again: this ungenitured agent will 
+unpeople the province with continency; spar- 
+rows must not build in his house-eaves, because 
+they are lecherous. The duke yet would have 
+dark deeds darkly answered; he would never 
+bring them to light: would he were returned! | 
+Marry, this Claudio is condemned for un- 
+trussing. Farewell, good friar: I prithee, pray 
+for me. The duke, I say to thee again, would 
+eat mutton on Fridays. He’s not past it yet, 
+and | say to thee, he would mouth with a beg- 
+gar, though she smelt brown bread and garlic: 
+say that I said so. Farewell. [Exit. 
+Duke. No might nor greatness in mortality 
+Can censure ‘scape; back-wounding calumny 
+The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong 
+Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue ? 
+But who comes here? 200 
+
+
+Enter Escatus, Provost, and Offcers with 
+MisTRESs OVERDONE. 
+
+
+Escal. Go; away with her to prison! 
+
+Mrs Ov, Good my lord, be good to me; 
+your honour is accounted a merciful man; 
+good my lord. 
+
+Escal. Double and treble admonition, and 
+still forfeit in the same kind! This would 
+make mercy swear and play the tyrant. 
+
+Prov. A bawd of eleven years’ continuance, 
+may it please your honour. 209 
+
+Mrs Ov. My lord, this is one Lucio’s infor- 
+mation against me. Mistress Kate Keepdown 
+was with child by him in the duke’s time; he 
+promised her marriage: his child is a year and 
+a quarter old, come Philip and Jacob: I have 
+kept it myself; and see how he goes about to 
+abuse me! 
+
+Escal. That fellow is a fellow of much 
+license: let him be called before us. Away 
+with her to prison! Go to; no more words. 
+[Exeunt Officers with Mistress Ov.] Provost, 
+my brother Angelo will not be altered; Clau- 
+dio must die to-morrow: let him be furnished 
+with divines, and have all charitable prepara- 
+tion. If my brother wrought by my pity, tt 
+should not be so with him. 
+
+Prov. So please you, this friar hath been 
+with him, and advised him for the entertain- 
+
+
+1 ment of death. 
+
+
+Escal. Good even, good father. 
+
+Duke. Bliss and goodness on you! 
+
+Escal. Of whence are you? 
+
+Duke. Not of this country, though my 
+chance is now 230 
+
+
+100 
+
+
+To use it for my time: I am a brother 
+Of gracious order, late come from the See 
+In special business from his holiness. 
+
+Escal. What news abroad i’ the world? 
+
+Duke. None, but that there is so great a 
+fever on goodness, that the dissolution of it 
+must cure it: novelty is only in request; and 
+it is as dangerous to be aged in any kind of 
+course, as it is virtuous to be constant in any 
+undertaking. There is scarce truth enough alive 
+to make societies secure; but security enough 
+to make fellowships accurst: much upon this 
+riddle runs the wisdom of the world. This news 
+is old enough, yet it is every day’s news. I pray 
+you, str, of what disposition was the duke? 
+
+Escal. One that, above all other strifes, 
+contended especially to know himself. 
+
+Duke. What pleasure was he given to? 
+
+Escal. Rather rejoicing to see another merry, 
+than merry at any thing which professed to 
+make him rejoice: a gentleman of all temper- 
+ance. But leave we him to his events, with a 
+prayer they may prove prosperous; and let 
+me desire to know how you find Claudio pre- 
+pared. I am made to understand that you 
+have lent him visitation. 
+
+Duke. He professes to have received no sin- 
+ister measure from his judge, but most will- 
+ingly humbles himself to the determination of 
+justice: yet had he framed to himself, by the 
+instruction of his frailty, many deceiving prom- 
+ies of life; which I by my good leisure have 
+discredited to him, and now is he resolved to die. 
+
+Escal. You have paid the heavens your func- 
+tion, and the prisoner the very debt of your 
+calling. J have laboured for the poor gentleman 
+to the extremest shore of my modesty: but my 
+brother justice have I found so severe, that he 
+hath forced me to tell him he is indeed Justice. 
+
+Duke. If his own life answer the straitness 
+of his proceeding, it shall become him well; 
+wherein if he chance to fail, he hath sentenced 
+himself. 
+
+Escal. I am going to visit the prisoner. 
+Fare you well, 
+
+Duke. Peace be with you! 
+
+[Exeunt Escalus and Provost. 
+He who the sword of heaven will bear 
+Should be as holy as severe; 
+Pattern in himself to know, 
+{Grace to stand, and virtue go; 
+More nor less to others paying 
+Than by self-offences weighing. 
+Shame to him whose cruel striking 
+Kills for faults of his own liking! 
+Twice treble shame on Angelo, 
+To weed my vice and let his grow! 
+O, what may man within him hide, 
+Though angel on the outward side! 
+
+
+280 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+= acs 
+
+
+[Act IV, Se, I 
+
+
+—— 
+
+
+tHow may likeness made in crimes, 
+Making practice on the times, 
+
+To draw with idle spiders’ strings 
+Most ponderous and substantial things! 
+Craft against vice 1 must apply: 
+
+With Angelo to-night shall lie 
+
+His old betrothed but despised; 
+
+*So disguise shall, by the disguised, 
+Pay with falsehood false exacting, 
+And perform an old contracting. 
+
+
+290 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+
+
+ACT IV. 
+
+
+Scene I, The moated grange at Sts LuKeE’s. 
+Enter Mariana and a Boy. 
+
+
+Boy sings. 
+
+
+Take, O, take those lips away, 
+That so sweetly were forsworn; 
+And those eyes, the break of day, 
+Lights that do mislead the morn: 
+But my kisses bring again, bring again; 
+Seals of love, but seal’d in vain, seal’d in vain, 
+Mari. Break off thy song, and haste thee 
+quick away: 
+Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice 
+Hath often still’d my brawling discontent. 
+[Exit Boy. 
+Enter Duxe disguised as before. 
+I cry you mercy, sir; and well could wish 10 
+You had not found me here so musical: 
+
+
+Let me excuse me, and believe me so, 
+My mirth it much displeased, but pleased my 
+
+
+woe, 
+Duke. "Tis good; though music oft hath 
+such a charm 
+To make bad good, and good provoke to harm. 
+I pray you, tell me, hath any body inquired 
+for me here to-day? much upon this time have 
+I promised here to meet. 
+Mari, You have not been inquired after: I 
+have sat here all day. 
+
+
+Enter IsaBELLA. 
+
+
+Duke. I do constantly believe you. The 
+time is come even now. I shall crave your 
+forbearance a little: may be I will call upor 
+you anon, for some advantage to yourself. 
+
+Mari. | am always bound to you. [Exit 
+
+Duke. Very well met, and well come. 
+What is the news from this good deputy ? 
+
+Tsab. He hath a garden circummured with 
+
+brick, 
+Whose western side is with a vineyard back'd; 
+And to that vineyard is a planched gate, 30 
+That makes his opening with this bigger key: 
+This other doth command a little door 
+Which from the vineyard to the garden leads; 
+There have I made my promise 
+
+
+Upon the heavy middle of the night 
+To call upon him. 
+Duke. But shall you on your knowledge 
+_. find this way? 
+Isab. 1 have ta’en a due and wary note 
+upon’t: 
+With whispering and most guilty diligence, 
+In action all of precept, he did show me 
+The way twice o'er. 2 
+Duke. Are there no other tokens 
+
+
+Between you ‘greed concerning her observance ? 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+Tsab. No, none, but only a repair 1’ the dark; . 
+
+
+And that I have possess'd him my most stay 
+Can be but brief; for I have made him know 
+I have a servant comes with me along, 
+That stays upon me, whose persuasion is 
+I come about my brother. 
+Duke. Tis well borne up. 
+I have not yet made known to Mariana 
+A word of this. What, ho! within! come forth! 
+
+
+Re-enter Mariana. 
+T pray you, be acquainted with this maid; 51 
+She comes to do you good. 
+Tsab. I do desire the like, 
+Duke. Do you persuade yourself that I re- 
+spect you? 
+Mari. Good friar, I know you do, and 
+have found it. 
+Duke. Take, then, this your companion by 
+the hand, 
+Who hath a story ready for your ear. 
+I shall attend your leisure: but make haste; 
+The vaporous night approaches. 
+
+
+Mari. Will’t please you walk aside? 
+[Exeunt Mariana and Isabella. 
+Duke. O place and greatness! millions of 
+
+
+false eyes 60 
+Are stuck upon thee: volumes of report 
+Run with these false and most contrarious 
+quests 
+Upon thy doings: 
+Make thee the father of their idle dreams 
+
+
+thousand escapes of wit 
+
+
+_ And rack thee in their fancies. 
+
+
+Re-enter MARIANA and IsaBELLa, 
+
+
+Welcome, how agreed? 
+
+Isab. She'll take the enterprise upon her, 
+
+father, 
+If you advise it. 
+
+Duke. It is not my consent, 
+But my entreaty too. 
+
+Tsab. Little have you to say 
+When you depart from him, but, soft and low, 
+“Remember now my brother.’ 
+
+Mari. Fear me not. 70 
+
+Duke. Nor, gentle daughter, fear you not 
+
+at all. 
+He is your husband on a pre-contract: 
+To bring you thus together, ‘tis no sin, 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+108 
+
+
+Sith that the justice of your title to him 
+
+Doth flourish the deceit. Come, let us go: 
+
+Our corn’s to reap, for yet our tithe’s to sow. 
+[Exeuni, 
+
+
+Scene II. A room in the prison. 
+Enter Provost and Pompey. 
+
+
+Prov. Come hither, sirrah. Caa you cut off 
+a man’s head? 
+
+Pom. If the man be a bachelor, sir, I can; 
+but if he be a married man, he’s his wife’s 
+head, and I can never cut off a woman’s head. 
+
+Prov. Come, sir, leave me your snatches, 
+and yield me a direct answer. To-morrow 
+morning are to die Claudio and Barnardine. 
+Here is in our prison a common executioner, 
+who in his office lacks a helper: if you will 
+take it on you io assist him, it shall redeem. 
+you from your gyves; if not, you shall have 
+your full time of imprisonment and your de- 
+liverance with an unpitied whipping, for you 
+have been a notorious bawd. 
+
+Pom. Six, I have been an unlawful bawd 
+time out of mind; but yet I will be content to 
+be a lawful hangman. I would be glad to re- 
+ceive some instruction from my fellow partner. 
+
+Prov. What, ho! Abhorson! Where's Ab- 
+
+
+horson, there? 
+Enter ABHORSON. 
+
+
+Abhor. Do you call, sir? 
+
+Prov. Sirrah, here's a fellow will help you 
+to-morrow in your execution, If you think it 
+meet, compound with him by the year, and let 
+him abide here with you; if not, use him for 
+the present and dismiss him. He cannot plead 
+his estimation with you; he hath been a bawd. 
+
+Abhor. A bawd, sir? fie upon him! he will 
+discredit our mystery. 30 
+
+Prov, Go to, sir; you weigh equally; a 
+feather will turn the scale. ” Exit. 
+
+Pom. Pray, sir, by your good favour,—for 
+surely, sir, a good favour you have, but that 
+you have a hanging look,—do you call, sir, | 
+your occupation a mystery? 
+
+Abhor. Ay, sir; a mystery. 
+
+Pom. Painting, sir, I have heard say, is a 
+mystery; and your whores, sir, being members 
+of my occupation, using painting, do prove my 
+occupation a mystery: but what mystery there 
+should be in hanging, if I should be hanged, I 
+cannot imagine, 
+
+Abhor. Sir, it is a mystery. 
+
+Pom. Proof? 
+
+Abhor. Every true man's apparel fits your 
+thief: if it be too little for your thief, your 
+true man thinks it big enough; if it be too big 
+for your thief, your thief thinks it little enough: 
+so every true man’s apparel fits your thief. 50 
+
+
+21 
+
+
+102 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. HE 
+
+
+Re-enter Provost. 
+
+
+Prov. Are you agreed? 
+
+Pom. Sir, I will serve him; for I do find 
+your hangman is a more penitent trade than 
+your bawd; he doth oftener ask forgiveness. 
+
+Prov. You, sirrah, provide your block and 
+your axe to-morrow four o'clock. 
+
+Abhor. Come on, bawd; I will instruct 
+thee in my trade; follow. 
+
+Pom. | do desire to learn, sir: and I hope, 
+if you have occasion to use me for your own 
+turn; you shall find me yare; for truly, sir, for 
+your kindness I owe you a good turn. 
+
+Prov. Call hither Barnardine and Claudio: 
+
+[Exeunt Pompey and Abhorson. 
+‘The one has my pity; not a jot the other, 
+Being a murderer, though he were my brother. 
+
+
+Enter CLauptio. 
+
+
+Look, here’s the warrant, Claudio, for thy 
+death: 
+"Tis now dead midnight, and by eight to-morrow 
+
+
+Thou must be made immortal. Where's Bar- 
+nardine > 
+Claud. As fast tock'd up in sleep as guiltless 
+labour 
+
+
+When it lies starkly in the traveller’s bones: 70 
+He will not wake. 
+Prov. Who can do good on him? 
+
+Well, go, prepare yourself. [Knocking within.] 
+But, hark, what noise? 
+
+Heaven give your spirits comfort! [Exit 
+Claudio.] By and by. 
+
+I hope it is some pardon or reprieve 
+
+For the most gentle Claudio. 
+
+
+Enter DuKE disguised as before. 
+
+
+Welcome, father. 
+Duke. The best and wholesomest spirits of 
+the night : 
+Envelope you, good Provost! Who call’d here 
+of late? 
+Prov. None, since the curfew rung. 
+Duke. Not Isabel? 
+Proy. No. 
+Duke. They will, then, ere’t be long. 
+Prov.. What comfort is for Claudio? 80 
+Duke. There's some in hope. 
+Prov. It is a bitter deputy. 
+Duke. Not so, not so; his life is parallel’d 
+Even with the stroke and line of his great jus- 
+tice: 
+He doth with holy abstinence subdue 
+That in himself which he spurs on his power 
+To qualify in others: were he meal’d with that 
+Which he corrects, then were he tyrannous; 
+But this being so, he’s just. [Knocking within. 
+Now are they come. 
+[Exit Provost. 
+
+
+This is a gentle provost: seldom when 
+The steeled gaoler is the friend of men. 
+[Knocking within. 90 
+How now! what noise? That spirit’s possess'd 
+with haste 
+That wounds the unsisting postern with these 
+strokes, 
+
+
+Re-enter Provost. 
+
+
+Prov. There he must stay until the officer 
+Arise to let him in: he is call’d up. 
+
+Duke. Have you no countermand for Claw 
+
+dio yet, 
+
+But he must die to-morrow? 
+
+Prov. None, sir, none. 
+
+Duke. As near the dawning, provost, as it is, 
+You shall hear more ere morning. 
+
+
+Prov. Happily 
+
+
+You something know; yet I believe there comee -- 
+
+
+No countermand; no such example have we: 
+Besides, upon the very siege of justice 
+
+Lord Angelo hath to the public ear 
+Profess'd the contrary. 
+
+
+Enter a MESSENGER. 
+
+
+This is his lordship’s man, 
+Duke. And here comes Claudio’s pardon. 
+Mes. [Giving a paper.] My lord hath sent 
+you this note; and by me this further charge, 
+that you swerve not from the smallest article 
+of it, neither in time, matter, or other circum- 
+stance. Good morrow; for, as I take it, it is 
+almost day. 
+Prov. 1 shall obey him. [Exit Messenger. 
+Duke. [Aside.] This is his pardon, pur- 
+chased by such sin It 
+For which the pardoner himself is in. 
+Hence hath offence his quick celerity, 
+When it is borne in high authority: 
+When vice makes mercy, mercy’s so extended, 
+
+
+That for the fault’s love is the offender 
+friended, 
+Now, sir, what news? 
+Prov. I told you. Lord Angelo, belike 
+
+
+thinking me remiss in mine office, awakens me 
+with this unwonted putting on; methinks 
+strangely, for he hath not used it before. 121 
+
+Duke. Pray you, let's hear. 
+
+Prov. [Reads] 
+
+“Whatsoever you may hear to the contrary, 
+let Claudio be executed by four of the clock; 
+and in the afternoon Barnardine: for my better 
+satisfaction, let me have Claudio’s head sent 
+me by five. Let this be duly performed; with 
+a thought that more depends on it than we 
+must yet deliver, Thus fail not to do your 
+office, as you will answer it at your peril.” 130 
+What say you to this, sir? 
+
+Duke. What is that Barnardine who is te 
+be executed in the afternoon? 
+
+
+x 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. Il] 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+103 
+
+
+Prov. A Bohemian born, but here nursed 
+up and bred; one that is a prisoner nine years 
+old. 
+
+Duke. How came it that the absent duke 
+had not either delivered him to his liberty or 
+executed him? I have heard it was ever his 
+manner lo do so. 139 
+
+Prov. His friends still wrought reprieves 
+for him: and, indeed, his fact, till now in the 
+government of Lord Angelo, came not to an 
+undoubtful proof. 
+
+
+Duke. It is now apparent? 
+
+Prov. Most manifest, and not denied by 
+himself. 
+
+Duke. Hath he borne himself penitently in 
+
+
+prison? how seems he to be touched? 
+
+Prov. A man that apprehends death no 
+more dreadfully but as a drunken sleep; care- 
+less, reckless, and fearless of what's past, 
+present, or to come; insensible of mortality, 
+and desperately mortal. 
+
+Duke. He wants advice. 
+
+Prov. He will hear none: he hath evermore 
+had the liberty of the prison; give him leave to 
+escape hence, he would not: drunk many times 
+a day, if not many days entirely drunk. We 
+have very oft awaked him, as if to carry him to 
+execution, and showed him a seeming warrant 
+for it: it hath not moved him at all. 161 
+
+Duke. More ofhimanon. There is written 
+in your brow, provost, honesty and constancy: 
+if I read it not truly, my ancient skill beguiles 
+me; but, in the boldness of my cunning, | will 
+iay my self in hazard. Claudio, whom here you 
+have warrant to execute, is no greater forfeit 
+
+
+_to the law than Angelo who hath sentenced 
+
+
+him. To make you understand this in a mani- 
+fested effect, I crave but four days’ respite; 
+for the which you are to do me both a present 
+and a dangerous courtesy. 
+
+Prov. Pray, sir, m what? 
+
+Duke. In the delaying death. 
+
+Prov. Alack, how may I do it, having the 
+hour limited, and an express command, under 
+penalty, te deliver his head in the view of 
+Angelo? I may make my case as Claudio’s, 
+to cross this in the smallest. 179 
+
+Duke. By the vow of mine order I war- 
+rant you, if my instructions may be your 
+guide. Let this Barnardine be this morning 
+executed, and his head borne to Angelo. 
+
+Prov. Angelo hath seen them both, and will 
+discover the favour. 
+
+Duke. O, death’s a great disguiser; and 
+you may add to it. Shave the head, and tie 
+the beard; and say it was the desire of the 
+penitent to be so bared before his death: you 
+know the course is common. If any thing fall 
+
+
+to you upon this. more than thanks and good 
+
+
+SS, 
+
+
+fortune, by the saint whom I profess, I will 
+plead against it with my life. 
+
+
+Prov. Pardon me, good father; it is 
+against my oath. 
+
+Duke. Were you sworn to the duke, or to 
+the deputy ? 
+
+Prov. To him, and to his substitutes. 
+
+Duke. You will think you have made no 
+offence, if the duke avouch the justice of your 
+dealing? ; 201 
+
+Prov. But what likelihood is in that? 
+
+Duke. Not a resemblance, but a certainly. 
+
+
+Yet since I see you fearful, that neither my 
+coat, integrity, nor persuasion can with ease 
+attempt you, I will go further than I meant, to 
+pluck all fears out of you. Look you, sir, here 
+is the hand and seal of the duke: you know 
+the character, I doubt not; and the signet is 
+not strange to you. 
+
+
+Prov. I know them both. 210 
+Duke. The contents of this is the return of 
+the duke: you shall anon over-read it at 
+
+
+your pleasure; where you shall find, within 
+these two days he will be here. This is a 
+thing that Angelo knows not; for he this very 
+day receives letters of strange tenour; per- 
+chance of the duke’s death; perchance enter- 
+ing into some monastery; but, by chance, 
+nothing of what is writ. Look, the unfolding 
+star calls up the shepherd. Put not yourself 
+into amazement how these things should be: all 
+difficulties are but easy when they are known. 
+Call your executioner, and off with Barnar- 
+dine’s head: I will give him a present shrift 
+and advise him for a better place. Yet you 
+are amazed; but this shall absolutely resolve 
+you. Come away; it is almost clear dawn. 
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Another room in the same. 
+Enter Pompey. 
+
+
+Scene III. 
+
+
+Pom. I am as well acquainted here as | 
+was in our house of profession: one would 
+think it were Mistress Overdone’s own house, 
+for here be many of her old customers. First 
+here’s young Master Rash; he’s in for a com- 
+modity of brown paper and old ginger, nine- 
+score and seventeen pounds; of which he 
+made five marks, ready money: marry, then 
+ginger was not much in request, for the old 
+women were all dead. Then is there here one 
+Master Caper, at the suit of Master Three- 
+pile the mercer, for some four suits of peach- 
+coloured satin, which now peaches him a 
+beggar. Then have we here young Dizy, and 
+young Master Deep-vow, and Master Copper- 
+spur, and Master Starve-lackey the rapier and 
+dagger man, and young Drop-heir that killed 
+lusty Pudding, and Master Forthlight the til- 
+
+
+104 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+7 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc. Il 
+
+
+ter, and brave Master Shooty the great travel- 
+ler, and wild Half-can that stabbed Pots, and, 
+I think, forty more; all great doers in our 
+trade, and are now ‘for the Lord’s sake,’ 21 
+
+
+Enter ABHORSON. 
+Abhor, Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither. 
+
+
+Pom. Master Barnardine! you must rise 
+and be hanged, Master Barnardine! 
+
+Abhor. What, ho, Barnardine! 
+
+Bar. [Within] A pox o’ your throats! 
+Who makes that noise there? What are you? 
+
+Pom. Your friends, sir; the hangman. 
+You must be so good, sir, to rise and be put 
+to death. 
+
+Bar. [Within] Away, you rogue, away! I 
+am sleepy, 31 
+
+Abhor. 
+quickly too. 
+
+Pom. Pray, Master Barnardine, awake till 
+you are executed, and sleep afterwards. 
+
+Abhor. Go in to him, and fetch him out, 
+
+Pom. He is coming, sir, he is coming; | 
+hear his straw rustle. 
+
+Abhor. Is the axe upon the block, sirrah? 
+
+Pom, Very ready, sir. 40 
+
+
+Enter BARNARDINE. 
+
+
+Bar. How now, Abhorson? what's the 
+news with you? 
+
+Abhor. Truly, sir, I would desire you to 
+clap into your prayers; for, look you, the 
+warrant’s come. 
+
+Bar, You rogue, { have been drinking all 
+night; I am not fitted for'’t. 
+
+Pom. O, the better, sir; for he that drinks 
+all night, and is hanged betimes in the morn- 
+ing, may sleep the sounder all the next day. 
+
+Abhor. Look, you, sir; here comes your 
+ghostly father: do we jest now, think you? 
+
+
+Tell him he must awake, and that 
+
+
+Enter DuKE disguised as before. 
+
+
+Duke. Sir, induced by my charity, and 
+hearing how hasty you are to depart, I am 
+come to advise you, comfort you and pray 
+with you. 
+
+Bar. Friar, not I: I have been drinking 
+hard all night, and I will have more time to 
+prepare me, or they shall beat out my brains 
+with billets: I will not consent to die this day, 
+that’s certain. 
+
+Duke. O, sir, you must: and therefore I 
+
+beseech you 60 
+Look forward on the journey you shall go. 
+
+Bar. I swear I will not die to-day for any 
+man’s persuasion. 
+
+Duke. But hear you. 
+
+Bar. Not a word: if you have anything to 
+say to me, come to my ward; for thence will 
+not I to-day. [Exit, 
+
+
+Duke. Unfit to live or die: O gravel heart! 
+After him, fellows; bring him to the block: 
+[Exeunt Abhorson and Pompey. 
+
+
+Enter Provost. 
+
+
+Prov. Now, sir, how do you find the pris- 
+oner > 70 
+Duke. A creature unprepared, unmeet for 
+death; 
+And to transport him in the mind he is 
+Were damnable. 
+Prov. Here in the prison, father, 
+There died this morning of a cruel fever 
+One Ragozine, a most notorious pirate, 
+A man of Claudio’s years; his beard and 
+head 
+Just of his colour. What if we do omit 
+This reprobate till he were well inclined; 
+And satisfy the deputy with the visage 
+Of Ragozine, more like to Claudio? 80 
+Duke. O, ‘tis an accident that heaven pro- 
+vides! 
+Dispatch it presently; the hour draws on 
+Prefix'd by Angelo: see this be done, 
+And sent according to command; whiles | 
+Persuade this rude wretch willingly to die. 
+Prov. This shall be done, good father, 
+presently. 
+But Barnardine must die this afternoon: 
+And how shall we continue Claudio, 
+To save me from the danger that might 
+
+
+come 
+If he were known alive? 
+Duke. Let this be done. 90 
+Put them in secret holds, both Barnardine and 
+Claudio: , 
+Ere twice the sun hath made his journal 
+greeting 
+
+
+To the under generation, you shall find 
+Your safety manifested. » 
+Proy. I am your free dependant. 
+Duke. Quick, dispatch, and send the head 
+to Angelo. [Exit Provost, 
+Now will I write letters to Angelo,— 
+The provost, he shall bear them,—whose con- 
+tents : 
+Shall witness to him I am near at home, 
+And that, by great injunctions, 1 am bound 
+To enter publicly: him I ‘Il desire 
+To meet me at the consecrated fount 
+A league below the city; and from thence, 
+By cold gradation and well-balanced form, 
+We shall proceed with Angelo. 
+
+
+Re-enter Provost. 
+
+
+Prov. Here is the head; I ll carry it myself, 
+Duke. Convenient is it. Make a swift re- 
+turn; 
+For I would commune with you of such things 
+That want no ear but yours. 
+
+
+y 
+
+
+I'll make-all speed. [Exit. 
+[Within] Peace, ho, be here! 110 
+Duke. The tongue of Isabel. She's come 
+to know 
+If yet her brother’s pardon be come hither: 
+But I will keep her ignorant of her good, 
+To make her heavenly comforts of despair, 
+When it is least expected. 
+
+
+Enter IsaBELLa. 
+
+
+Isab. Ho, by your leave! 
+Duke. Good morning to you, fair and 
+gracious daughter. 
+Isab. ‘The better, given me by so holy a 
+man. 
+Hath yet the deputy sent my brother's pardon? 
+Duke. He hath released him, Isabel, from 
+the world: . 
+His head is off and sent to Angelo. 120 
+Isab. Nay, but it is not so. 
+Duke. It is no other: show your wisdom, 
+daughter, 
+In your close patience. 
+Isab. O, 1 will to him and pluck out his eyes! 
+Duke. You shall not be admitted to his 
+sight. 
+Isab. Unhappy Claudio! wretched Isabel! 
+{njurious world! most damned Angelo! 
+Duke. This nor hurts him nor profits you 
+a jot; 
+Forbear it therefore; give your cause to heaven. 
+Mark what I say, which you shall find 130 
+By every syllable a faithful verity: 
+The duke comes home to-morrow; nay, dry 
+your eyes; 
+
+
+‘One of our convent, and his confessor, 
+
+
+Gives me this instance: already he hath carried 
+Notice to Escalus and Angelo, 
+Who do prepare to meet him at the gates, 
+There to give up their power. If you can, pace 
+your wisdom 
+In that good path that I would wish it go, 
+And you shall have your bosom on this 
+wretch, 
+Grace of the duke, revenge to your heart, 140 
+And general honour. 
+Isab. I am directed by you. 
+Duke. This letter, then, to Friar Peter 
+give; 
+"Tis that he sent me of the duke's return: 
+Say, by this token, I desire his company 
+At Mariana’s house to-night. Her cause and 
+yours 
+I'll perfect him withal, and he shall bring you 
+Before the duke, and to the head of Angelo 
+Accuse him home and home. For my poor self, 
+I am combined by a sacred vow : 
+And shall be absent. Wend you with this 
+letter: 150 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+105 
+
+
+Command these fretting waters from your eyes 
+With a light heart: trust not my holy order, 
+If I pervert your course. Who's here? 
+
+
+Enter Lucio. 
+
+
+Lucio. Good even. Friar, where's the 
+provost ? 
+Duke. Not within, sir. 
+
+
+Lucio. O pretty Isabella, I am pale at mine 
+heart to see thine eyes so red: thou must be 
+patient. I am fain to dine and sup with water 
+and bran; I dare not for my head fill my 
+belly; one fruitful meal would set me to’t. 
+But they say the duke will be here to-morrow. 
+By my troth, Isabel, I loved thy brother: if 
+the old fantastical duke of dark corners had 
+been at home, he had lived. [Exit Isabella. 
+
+Duke. Sir, the duke is marvellous little 
+beholding to your reports; but the best is, he 
+lives not in them. 
+
+Lucio. Friar, thou knowest not the duke so 
+well as I do: he’s a better woodman than thou 
+takest him for. 17] 
+
+Duke. Well, you'll answer this one day. 
+Fare ye well. 
+
+Lucio. Nay, tarry; I'll go along with thee: 
+I can tell thee pretty tales of the duke. 
+
+Duke. You have told me too many of him 
+already, sir, if they be true; if not true, none 
+were enough, 
+
+Lucio. | was once before him for getting a 
+wench with child. 
+
+Duke. Did you such a thing? 
+
+Lucio. Yes, marry, did I: but I] was fain 
+to forswear it; they would else have married 
+me to the rotten medlar. 
+
+Duke. Sir, your company is fairer than 
+honest. Rest you well. 
+
+Lucio. By my troth, I'll go with thee to the 
+lane’s end: if bawdy talk offend you, we'll 
+have very little of it. Nay, friar, I am a kind 
+of burr; I shall stick. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene IV. A room in ANGELO’s house. 
+Enter ANGELO and EscaLus. 
+Escal. Every letter he hath writ hath dis- 
+
+
+vouched other. 
+
+Ang. In most uneven and distracted man- 
+ner. His actions show much like to madness: 
+pray heaven his wisdom be not tainted! And 
+why meet him at the gates, and redeliver our 
+authorities there > 
+
+Escal. | guess not. 
+
+Ang. And why should we proclaim it in an 
+hour before his entering, that if any crave 
+redress of injustice, they should exhibit their 
+petitions in the street? 
+
+
+106 
+
+
+Escal. He shows his reason for that: to 
+have a dispatch of complaints, and to deliver 
+us from devices hereafter, which shall then 
+have no power to stand against us. 
+Ang. Well, I beseech you, let it be pro- 
+claimed betimes i’ the morn; I'll call you at 
+your house: give notice to such men of sort 
+and suit as are to meet him 20 
+Escal. I shall, sir. Bare you well, 
+Ang. Good night. [Exit Escalus. 
+This deed unshapes me quite, makes me un- 
+pregnant 
+
+And dull to all proceedings. 
+maid! 
+
+And by an eminent body that enforced 
+
+The law against it! But that her tender 
+shame 
+
+Will! not proclaim against her maiden loss, 
+
+How might she tongue me! Yet reason dares 
+her no; 
+
+For my authority bears of a credent bulk, 
+
+That no particular scandal once can touch 30 
+
+But it confounds the breather. He should have 
+lived, 
+
+Save that his riotous youth, with dangerous 
+sense, 
+
+Might in the times to come have ta’en revenge, 
+
+By so receiving a dishonour’d life 
+
+With ransom of such shame. Would yet he 
+had lived! 
+
+Alack, when once our grace we have forgot, 
+
+Nothing goes right: we would, and we would 
+not. [Exit. 
+
+
+A deflower'd 
+
+
+Scene V. Fields without the town. 
+
+
+Enter DuKeE in his own habit, and FRiaR 
+PETER. 
+
+
+Duke. These letters at fit time deliver me: 
+[Giving letters. 
+The provost knows our purpose and our plot. 
+The matter being afoot, keep your instruction, 
+And hold you ever to our special drift; 
+Though sometimes you do blench from this to 
+that, 
+As cause doth minister. 
+house, 
+And tell him where I stay: give the like notice 
+To Valentinus, Rowland, and to Crassus, 
+And bid them bring the trumpets to the gate; 
+But send me Flavius first. 
+
+
+Fri. P, It shall be speeded well. [Exit. 10 
+Enter Varrius. 
+Duke. 1 thank thee, Varrius; thou hast 
+made good haste: 
+Come, we ball walk. There’s other of our 
+friends 
+
+
+Will greet us here anon, my gentle Mancha 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Go call at Flavius’ 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+[Act V, Se. I 
+
+
+Scene VI. Street near the city gate. 
+Enter IsABELLA and Mariana. 
+
+
+Isab. To speak so indirectly I am loath: 
+I would say the truth; but to accuse him so, 
+That is your part: yet I am advised to do it; 
+He says, to veil full purpose. 
+ari. Be ruled by him. 
+Isab. Besides, he tells me that, if perad- 
+venture 
+He speak against me on the adverse side, 
+I should not think it strange; for ‘tis a physic 
+That’s bitter to sweet end. 
+Mari. I would Friar Peter— 
+
+
+Isab. O, peace! the friar is come. 
+Enter Friar PETER. 
+
+
+Fri. P. Come, I have found you out a stand 
+most fit, 10 
+Where you may have such wantate on the duke, 
+He shall not pass you. Twice have the trumpets 
+sounded; 
+The generous and gravest citizens 
+Have hent the gates, and very near upon 
+The duke is entering: therefore, hence, away! 
+[Exeunt. 
+ACT V. . 
+Scene I. The city gate. 
+
+
+Mariana veiled, IsABELLA, and FRIAR PETER, 
+at their stand.: Enter DUKE, VaRRIUs, 
+Lorps, ANGELO, Escatus, Lucio, Pro- 
+vosT, OFFICERS, and CITIZENS, at several 
+doors. 
+
+
+Duke. My very worthy cousin, fairly met! 
+Our old and faithful friend, we are glad to 
+see you. ~ 
+Ang. ) Happy return be to your royal 
+t grace! 
+Many and hearty thankings to you 
+
+
+We have made inquiry of you; and we hear 
+Such goodness of your justice, that our soul 
+Cannot but yield you forth to public thanks, 
+Forerunning more requital. 
+Ang. You make my bonds still greater. 
+Duke. ©O, your desert speaks loud; and I 
+should wrong it, 
+To lock it in the wards of covert bosom, 10 
+When it deserves, with characters of brass, 
+A forted residence ’gainst the tooth cf time 
+And razure of oblivion. Give me your hand, 
+And let the subject see, to make them know 
+That outward courtesies would fain proclaim 
+Favours that keep within. Come, Escalus, 
+You must walk by us on our other hand; 
+And good supporters are you. 
+FridR PETER and IsABELLA come forward. 
+Fri. P. Now is your time: speak loud and 
+kneel before him. 
+
+
+Act V, Se. I] 
+Isab. Justice, O royal duke! Vail your re- 
+gard 20 
+Upon a wrong’d, I would fain have said, a 
+
+
+maid! 
+O worthy prince, dishonour not your eye 
+By throwing it on any other object 
+Till you have heard me in my true complaint 
+And given me justice, justice, justice, Justice! 
+Duke. Relate your wrongs; in what? by 
+whom? be brief. 
+Here is Lord Angelo shall give you justice: 
+Reveal yourself to him. ; 
+Isab. O worthy duke, 
+You bid me seek redemption of the devil: 
+Hear me yourself; for that which I must speak 
+Must either punish me, not being believed, 31 
+Or wring redress from you. Hear me, O hear 
+me, here! 
+
+Ang. My lord, her wits, I fear me, are not 
+
+firm: 
+
+She hath been a suitor to me for her brother 
+-Cut off by course of justice,— 
+
+Isab. By course of justice! 
+
+Ang. And she will speak most bitterly and 
+
+strange. 
+
+Isab. Most strange, but yet most truly, will 
+
+I speak: 
+
+That Angelo’s forsworn; is it not strange? 
+That Angelo’s a murderer; is't not strange? 
+That Angelo-is an adulterous thief, 40 
+An hypocrite, a virgin-violator; 
+Is it not strange and strange? 
+
+Nay, it is ten times strange. 
+It is not truer he is Angelo 
+Than this is all as true as it is strange: 
+Nay, it is ten times true; for truth is truth 
+To the end of reckoning. 
+
+Duke. Away with her! Poor soul, 
+She speaks this in the infirmity of sense. 
+
+Isab. O prince, I conjure thee, as thou be- 
+
+lievest 
+There is another comfort than this world, 
+That thou neglect me not, with that opinion 50 
+That I am touch’d with madness! Make not 
+impossible 
+That which but seems unlike: 
+possible 
+But one, the wicked’st caitiff on the ground, 
+May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute 
+As Angelo; even so may Angelo, 
+In all his dressings, characts, titles, forms, 
+Be an arch-villain; believe it, royal prince: 
+If he be less, he’s nothing; but he’s more, 
+Had I'more name for badness. 
+
+Duke. By mine honesty, 
+If she be mad,—as I believe no other,— 60 
+Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense, 
+Such a dependency of thing on‘ thing, 
+
+As e’er I heard in madness. ’ 
+
+
+‘tis not im- 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+107 
+
+
+Isab. O gracious duke, 
+Harp not on that, nor do not banish reason 
+For inequality; but let your reason serve 
+To make the truth appear where it seems hid, 
+And hide the false seems true. 
+
+Duke. Many that are not mad 
+Have, sure, more lack of reason. What would 
+
+you say? ; 
+
+Isab. I am the sister of one Claudio, 
+Condemn’d upon the act of fornication 
+To lose his head; condemn'd by Angelo: 
+I, in probation of a sisterhood, 
+
+Was sent to by my brother; one Lucio 
+As then the messenger,— 
+
+Lucio. That's I, an’t like your grace; 
+I came to her from Claudio, and desired her 
+To try her gracious fortune with Lord Angelo 
+For her poor brother’s pardon. 
+
+Isab. That's he indeed. 
+
+Duke. You were not bid to speak. 
+
+Lucio. No, my good lord; 
+Nor wish'd to hold my peace. 
+
+Duke. I wish you now, then; 
+Pray you, take note of it: and wher you 
+
+have 80 
+A business for yourself, pray heaven you then 
+Be perfect. 
+Lucio. I warrant your honour. 
+
+
+70 
+
+
+Duke. The warrant’s for yourself; take 
+heed to’t. 
+
+Isab. This gentleman told somewhat of my 
+tale,— 
+
+Lucio. Right. 
+
+Duke. It may be right; but you are i’ the 
+wrong 
+
+
+To speak before your time. Proceed. 
+Tsab. I went 
+To this pernicious caitiff deputy,— 
+
+
+Duke. That’s somewhat madly spoken. 
+Tsab. Pardon it; 
+The phrase is to the matter. 90 
+
+
+Duke. Mended again. The matter; proceed. 
+Isab. In brief, to set the needless process by, 
+How I persuaded, how I pray’d, and kneel’d, 
+How he refell’d me, and how I replied,— 
+For this was of much length,—the vile con- 
+clusion 
+I now begin with grief and shame to utter: 
+He would not, but by gift of my chaste body 
+To his concupiscible intemperate lust, 
+Release my brother; and, after much debate- 
+ment, 
+My sisterly remorse confutes mine honour, 100 
+And I did yield to him: but the next morn 
+betimes, 
+His purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant 
+For my poor brother’s head. 
+Duke. This is most likely! 
+
+
+Isab. Oy, that it were as like as it is true! 
+
+
+108 
+
+
+Duke. By heaven, fond wretch, thou 
+know’st not what thou speak’st, 
+Or else thou art suborn’d against his honour 
+In hateful practice. First, his integrity 
+Stands without blemish. Next, it imports no 
+reason 
+That with such vehemency he should pursue 
+Faults proper to himself: if he had so offended 
+He would have weigh’d thy brother by him- 
+self 
+And not have cut him off. Some one hath 
+set you on: 
+Confess the truth, and say by whose advice 
+Thou camest here to complain. 
+Isab. And is this all? 
+Then, O you blessed ministers above, 
+Keep me in patience, and with ripen'd time 
+Unfold the evil which is here wrap't up 
+In countenance! Heaven shield your grace 
+from woe, 
+As I, thus wrong’d, hence unbelieved go! 
+Duke. 1 know you'ld fain be gone. 
+officer! 
+To prison with her! Shall we thus permit 
+A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall 
+On him so near us? This needs must be a 
+practice. 
+Who knew of your intent and coming hither > 
+Isab. One that I would were here, Friar 
+Lodowick. 
+Duke. A ghostly father, belike. Who 
+knows that Lodowick? 
+Lucio. My lord, I know him; ‘tis a med- 
+dling friar; 
+I do not like the man: had he been lay, my 
+lord, 
+
+
+For certain words he spake against your grace 
+
+
+An 
+120 
+
+
+In your retirement, I had swinged him 
+soundly. 
+
+Duke. Words against me! this is a good 
+
+friar, belike! 131 
+
+
+And to set on this wretched woman here 
+Against our substitute! Let this friar be found. 
+Lucio. But yesternight, my lord, she and 
+that friar, 
+I saw them at the prison: a saucy friar, 
+A very scurvy fellow. 
+Fri. P. Blessed be your royal grace! 
+I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard 
+Your royal ear abused. First, hath this woman 
+Most wrongfully accused your substitute, 140 
+Who is as free from touch or soil with her 
+As she from one ungot. 
+
+
+Duke. We did believe no less. 
+
+Know you that Friar Lodowick that she 
+speaks of ? 
+
+Fri. P. 1 know him for a man divine and 
+
+
+holy; 
+Not scurvy, nor a temporary meddler, 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+[Acr V, Sc. ! 
+
+
+As he’s reported by this gentleman; 
+And, on my trust, a man that never yet 
+Did, as he vouches, misreport your grace. 
+Lucio. My lord, most villanously ; believe it. 
+Fri. P. Well, he in time may come to clear 
+himself; 150 
+But at this instant he is sick, my lord, 
+Of a strange fever. Upon his mere request, 
+Being come to knowledge that there was com- 
+plaint 
+Intended 'gainst Lord Angelo, came I hither, 
+To speak, as from his mouth, what he doth 
+know 
+Is true and false; and what he with his oath 
+And all probation will make up full clear, 
+Whensoever he’s convented. First, for this 
+woman, 
+To justify this worthy nobleman, 
+So vulgarly and personally accused, 
+Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes, 
+Till she herself confess it. 
+Duke. Good friar, let’s hear it, 
+[Isabella is carried off guarded; and 
+Mariana comes forward. 
+Do you not smile at this, Lord Angelo? 
+O heaven, the vanity of wretched fools! 
+Give us some seats. Come, cousin Angelo; 
+In this I "Il be impartial; be you judge 
+Of your own cause. Is this the witness, frair? 
+First let her show her face, and_after speak. 
+Mari. Pardon, my lord; I will not show 
+my face 
+Until my husband bid me. 170 
+
+
+160 — 
+
+
+Duke. What, are you married? 
+Mari. No, my lord. 
+
+Duke, Are you a maid? 
+
+Mari. No, my lord. 
+
+
+Duke. A widow, then? 
+
+Mari. Neither, my lord. 
+
+Duke. Why, you are nothing then: neither 
+maid, widow, nor wife? 
+
+Lucio. My lord, she may be a punk; for 
+many of them are neither maid, widow, nor 
+wife, 180 
+
+Duke. Silence that fellow: I would he had 
+
+some cause 
+To prattle for himself, 
+Lucio. Well, my lord. 
+Mari. My lord, I do confess I ne'er was 
+married; 
+And | confess besides | am no maid: 
+I have known my husband; yet my husband 
+Knows not that ever he knew me. 
+
+Lucio. He was drunk then, my lord: it can 
+be no better. 
+
+Duke. For the benefit of silence, would 
+thou wert so too! 191 
+
+Lucio. Well, my lord. 
+
+Duke. This is no witness for Lord Angelo. 
+
+
+cel 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+7 hee o 
+in) ae ob See 
+ee J 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. I] 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+ba 
+
+
+1 ¥ 
+
+
+109 
+
+
+Mari. Now I come to’t, my lord: 
+She that accuses him of fornication, 
+In self-same manner doth accuse my husband, 
+And charges him, my lord, with such a time 
+When I'll depose I had him in mine arms 
+With all the effect of love. 
+
+
+Ang. Charges she more than me? 
+Mari. Not that I know. 
+Duke. No? you say your husband. 201 
+Mari. Why, just, my lord, and that is 
+Angelo, 
+Who thinks he knows that he ne’er knew my 
+body, 
+
+
+But knows he thinks that he knows Isabel's, 
+Ang. This is a strange abuse. Let's see thy 
+
+
+face. 
+Mari. My husband bids me; now I will 
+unmask, [ Unveiling. 
+This is that face, thou cruel Angelo, 
+Which once thou sworest was worth the look- 
+ing on; 
+
+_ This is the hand which, with a vow'd contract, 
+Was fast belock’d in thine; this is the body 
+That took away the match from Isabel, 
+And did supply thee at thy garden-house 
+In her imagined person. 
+
+
+~ Duke. Know you this woman? 
+Lucio. Carnally, she says. 
+Duke. Sirrah, no more! 
+
+
+Lucio, Enough, my lord. 
+Ang. My lord, I must confess I know this 
+woman: 
+And five years since there was some speech of 
+marriage 
+Betwixt myself and her; which was broke off 
+Partly for that her promised proportions 
+Came short of composition, but in chief 220 
+For that her reputation was disvalued 
+In levity: since which time of five years 
+I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard 
+from her, 
+Upon my faith and honour. 
+ari. Noble prince, 
+As there comes light from heaven and words 
+from breath, 
+As there is sense in truth and truth in virtue, 
+I am afhanced this man’s wife as strongly 
+As words could make up vows: and, my good 
+
+
+But Tuesday night last gone in’s garden-house 
+He knew me as a wife. As this is true, 230 
+Let mein safety raise me from my knees; 
+Or else for ever be confixed here, 
+A marble monument! 
+
+Ang. I did but smile till now: 
+Now, good my lord, give me the scope of 
+
+justice; 
+
+My patience here is touch’d. I do perceive 
+These poor informal women are no more 
+
+
+But instruments of some more mightier member 
+That sets them on: let me have way, my 
+
+
+lord, 
+To find this practice out. 
+Duke. Ay, with my heart; 
+
+
+And punish them to your height of pleasure 240 
+
+
+Thou foolish friar, and thou pernicious 
+woman, 
+
+Compact with her that’s gone, think’st thou thy 
+oaths, 
+
+Though they would swear down each partic- 
+ular saint, 
+
+
+Were testimonies against his worth and credit 
+
+That’s seal’d in approbation? You, Lord 
+Escalus, 
+
+Sit with my cousin; lend him your kind pains 
+
+To find out this abuse, whence ‘tis derived. 
+
+There is another friar that set them on; 
+
+Let him be sent for. 
+
+Fri. P. Would he were here, my lord! for 
+. he indeed 250 
+Hath set the women on to this complaint: 
+Your provost knows the place where he abides 
+And he may fetch him. 
+
+Duke. Go do it instantly. [Exit Provost, 
+And you, my noble and well-warranted cousin, 
+Whom it concerns to hear this matter forth, 
+Do with your injuries as seems you best, 
+
+In any chastisement: I for a while will leave 
+
+you; 
+But stir not you till you have well determined 
+Upon these slanderers. 
+Escol. My lord, we'll do it throughiy. 
+
+[Exit Duke. 
+
+Signior Lucio, did not you say you knew that 
+
+Friar Lodowick to be a dishonest person? 
+
+Lucio. ‘Cucullus non facit monachum:’ 
+honest in nothing but in his clothes; and one 
+that hath spoke most villanous speeches of the 
+
+
+duke. 
+
+Escal. ‘We shall entreat you to abide here 
+till he come and enforce them against him: we 
+shall find this friar a notable fellow. 
+
+Lucio. As any in Vienna, on my word. 269 
+
+Escal. Call that same Isabel here once again: 
+
+
+I would speak with her. [Exit an Attendant.] 
+Pray you, my lord, give me leave to question; 
+you shall see how Ill handle her. 
+
+Lucio. Not better than he, by her own 
+report. 
+
+Escal. Say you? 
+, Lucio. Marry, sir, I think, if you handled 
+her privately, she would sooner confess: per- 
+chance, publicly, she'll be ashamed. 
+
+Escal. I will go darkly to work with her. 
+
+Lucio. That’s the way; for women are light 
+at midnight. 281 
+Re-enter OFFIcers with IsABELLA; and PRro- 
+
+vost with the DUKE in his friar’s habit. 
+
+
+110 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. I 
+
+
+Escal. Come on, mistress: here’s a gentle- 
+woman denies all that you have said. 
+
+Lucio. My lord, here comes the rascal I 
+spoke of; here with the provost. 
+
+Escal. In very good time: speak not you to 
+him, till we call upon you, 
+
+Lucio. Mum, 
+
+Escal. Come, sir: did you set these women 
+on to slander Lord Angelo? they have con- 
+fessed you did. 291 
+
+Duke. ‘Tis false. 
+
+Escal. How! know you where you are? 
+
+Duke. Respect to your great place! and 
+
+let the devil 
+Be sometime honour'd for his burning throne! 
+Where is the duke? ‘tis he should hear me 
+speak, 
+Escal. The duke’s in us; and we will hear 
+you speak: 
+Look you speak justly, 
+
+Duke. Boldly, at least. But, O, poor souls, 
+Come you to seek the lamb here of the fox? 
+Good night to your redress! Is the duke gone? 
+Then is your cause gone too.’The duke’s un- 
+
+Just, 
+Thus to retort your manifest appeal, 
+And put your trial in the villain’s mouth 
+Which here you come to accuse. 
+
+Lucio, This is the rascal; this is he 1 spoke 
+
+of. 
+
+
+Escal. Why, thou unreverend and unhal- 
+low'd friar, 
+Is’t not enough thou hast suborn’d these wo- 
+men 
+
+
+To accuse this worthy man, but, in foul mouth 
+And in the witness of his proper ear, 310 
+To call him villain? and then to glance from 
+him 
+To the duke himself, to tax him with injustice ? 
+Take him hence; to the rack with him! We'll 
+touse you 
+Joint by joint, but we will know his purpose. 
+What ‘unjust’! 
+Duke. Be not so hot; the duke 
+Dare no more stretch this finger of mine than 
+he 
+Dare rack his own: his subject am I not, 
+Nor here provincial. My business in this state 
+Made me a looker on here in Vienna, 
+Where I have seen corruption boil and bubble 
+Till it o’er-run the stew; laws for all faults, 321 
+But faults so countenanced, that the strong 
+statutes 
+Stand like the forfeits in a barber's shop, 
+As much in mock as mark, 
+Escal. Slander to the staie! 
+him to prison! 
+Ang. What can you vouch against him, 
+Sisnior Lucie? 
+
+
+Away with 
+
+
+Is this the man that you did tell us of ? 
+
+Lucio. "Tis he, my lord, Come hither, 
+goodman baldpate: do you know me? 329 
+
+Duke. I remember you, sir, by the sound 
+of your voice: I met you at the prison, in the 
+absence of the duke. 
+
+Lucio. O, did you so? And do you re- 
+member what you said of the duke? 
+
+Dube. Most notedly, sir. 
+
+Lucio. Do you so, sir? And was the duke 
+a fleshmonger, a fool, and a coward, as you 
+then reported him to be? 
+
+Duke. You must, sir, change persons with 
+me, ere you make that my report: you, indeed, 
+spoke so of him; and much more, much worse. 
+
+Lucio. O thou damnable fellow! Did not 
+I pluck thee by the nose for thy speeches? 
+
+Duke. 1 protest I love the duke as I love 
+myself. 
+
+Ang. Hark, how the villain would close 
+now, after his treasonable abuses! 
+
+Escal. Such a fellow is not to be talked 
+withal. Away with him to prison! Where is 
+the provost? Away with him to prison! lay 
+bolts enough upon him: let him speak no more. 
+Away with those giglots too, and with the 
+other confederate companion! 
+
+Duke. [To Provost] Stay, sir; stay awhile. 
+
+Ang. What, resists he> Help him, Lucio. 
+
+Lucio. Come, sir; come, sir; come, sir; 
+foh, sir! Why, you bald-pated, lying rascal, 
+you must be hooded, must you? Show your 
+knave’s visage, with a pox to you! show your 
+sheep-biting face, and be hanged an hour! 
+Will ’t not off ? 360 
+
+[Pulls off the friar’s hood, and discovers 
+the Duke. 
+
+Duke. Thou art the first knave that e’er 
+
+madest a duke, 
+First, provost, let me bail these gentle three. 
+[To Lucio] Saeak not away, sir; for the friar 
+and you 
+Must have a word anon. Lay hold on him. 
+Lucio. This may prove worse than hanging, 
+Duke. [To Escalus] What you have 
+spoke I pardon: sit you down: 
+We'll borrow place of him. [To Angelo] Sir, 
+by your leave. 
+Hast thou or word, or wit, or impudence, 
+That yet can do thee office? If thou hast, 
+Rely upon it till my tale be heard, 370 
+And hold no longer out. 
+Ang. O my dread lord, 
+I should be guiltier than my guiltiness, 
+To think I can be undiscernible, 
+When I perceive your grace, like power divine, 
+Hath look’d upon my passes. Then, good 
+prince, 
+No longer session hold upon my shame, 
+
+
+_ Act V, Se. I] 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+Wh) 
+
+
+But let my trial be mine own confession: 
+Immediate sentence then and sequent death 
+Is all the grace I beg. 
+Duke. Come hither, Mariana. 
+Say, wast thou e’er contracted to this woman? 
+Ang. I was, my lord. 381 
+Duke. Go take her hence, and marry her 
+instantly. 
+Do you the office, friar; which consummate, 
+_ Return him here again. Go with him, provost. 
+[Exeunt Angelo, Mariana, Friar Peter 
+and Provost. 
+
+
+Escal. My lord, I am more amazed at his 
+dishonour 
+Than at the strangeness of it. 
+Duke. Come hither, Isabel. 
+
+
+Your friar is now your prince: as I was then 
+Advertising and holy to your business, 
+
+Not changing heart with habit, I am still 389 
+Attorney’d at your service. 
+
+‘ Isab. O, give me pardon, 
+~. That I, your vassal, have employ’d and pain’d 
+Your unknown sovereignty ! 
+
+Duke. You are pardon’d, Isabel: 
+And now, dear maid, be you as free to us. 
+Your brother’s death, I know, sits at your 
+
+heart; 
+And you may marvel why I obscured myself, 
+Laboring to save his life, and would not rather 
+Make rash remonstrance of my hidden power 
+‘Than let him so be lost. most kind maid, 
+It was the swift celerity of his death, 
+Which I did think with slower foot came on, 
+That brain'd my purpose. But, peace be with 
+him! 401 
+That life is better life, past fearing death, 
+Than that which lives to fear: make it your 
+
+
+comfort, 
+So happy is your brother. 
+TIsab. I do, my lord. 
+
+
+Re-enter ANGELO, Mariana, Friar PETER, 
+and Provost. 
+
+
+Duke. For this new-married man ap- 
+proaching here, 
+Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong’d 
+Your well defended honour, you must pardon 
+For Mariana’s sake: but as he adjudged your 
+brother,— 
+Being criminal, in double violation 
+Of sacred chastity and of promise-breach 410 
+Thereon dependent, for your brother’s life,— 
+The very mercy of the law cries out 
+Most: audible, even from his proper tongue, 
+“An Angelo for Claudio, death for death! 
+Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers 
+leisure; 
+Like doth quit like, and MEASURE still FoR 
+MEASURE, 
+
+
+Then Angelo, thy fault’s thus manifested; 
+
+Which, though thou wouldst deny, denies thee 
+vantage. 
+
+We do condemn thee to the very block 
+
+Where Claudio stoop’d to death, and with like 
+
+
+haste. 420 
+Away with him! 
+Mari. O my most gracious lord, 
+
+
+I hope you will not mock me with a husband. 
+Duke. It is your husband mock’d you with 
+a husband. 
+Consenting to the safeguard of your honour, 
+I thought your marriage fit; else imputation, 
+For that he knew you, might reproach your 
+life 
+And choke your good to come: for his posses- 
+sions, 
+Although by confiscation they are ours, 
+We do instate and widow you withal, 
+To buy you a better husband. 
+Mari. O my dear lord, 
+I crave no other, nor no better mau. 431 
+Duke. Never crave him; we are definitive. 
+Mari. Gentle my liege,— [Kneeling. 
+
+
+Duke. You do but lose your labour. 
+Away with him to death! [To Lucio] Now, 
+sir, to you. 
+
+
+Mart. O my good lord! Sweet Isabel, take 
+my part; 
+Lend me your knees, and all my life to come 
+I ‘il tend you all my life to do you service. 
+Duke. Against all sense you do importune 
+her: 
+Should she kneel down in mercy of this fact, 
+Her brother’s ghost his paved bed would break, 
+And take her hence in horror. 
+
+Mari. Isabel, 44] 
+Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me; 
+
+Hold up your hands, say nothing; [ ‘ll speak all. 
+
+They say, best men are moulded out of faults; 
+
+And, for the most, become much more the 
+better ‘ 
+
+For being a little bad: so may my husband. 
+
+O Isabel, will you not lend a knee? 
+
+Duke. He dies for Claudio’s death. 
+
+Isab. Most bounteous sir, [Kneeling. 
+Look, if it please you, on this man condemn’d, 
+As if my brother lived: I partly think 450 
+A due sincerity govern’d his deeds, 
+
+Till he did look on me: since it is so, 
+Let him not die. My brother had but justice, 
+In that he did the thing for which he died: 
+For Angelo, 
+His act did not o’ertake his bad intent, 
+And must be buried but as an intent 
+That perish’d by the way: thoughts are no 
+subjects; 
+Intenis but merely thoughts. 
+Mari. Merely, my lord. 
+
+
+112 
+
+
+MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
+
+
+aie ok I - Re NEL OBE 
+
+
+, 
+r 
+
+
+[Act V, Se, I 
+
+
+Duke. Your suit’s unprofitable; stand up, 
+I say. 460 
+I have bethought me of another fault. 
+Provost, how came it Claudio was beheaded 
+At an unusual hour? 
+Prov. It was commanded so. 
+Duke. Had you a special warrant for the 
+deed? 
+Prov. No, my good lord; it was by pri- 
+vate message. 
+Duke. For which I do discharge you of 
+your office: 
+Give up your keys. 
+Prov. Pardon me, noble lord: 
+I thought it was a fault, but knew it not; 
+Yet did repent me, after more advice: 
+For testimony whereof, one in the prison, 470 
+That should by private order else have died, 
+I have reserved alive. 
+Duke. What's he? 
+Prov. His name is Barnardine. 
+Duke. 1 would thou hadst done so by 
+Claudio. 
+Go fetch him hither; let me look upon him. 
+2 [Exit Provost. 
+Escal. I am sorry, one so learned and so 
+wise 
+As you, Lord Angelo, have still appear'd, 
+Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood, 
+And lack of temper’d judgement afterward. 
+Ang. I amsorry that such sorrow I procure: 
+And so deep sticks itin my penitentheart 480 
+That I crave death more willingly than mercy; 
+"Tis my deserving, and I do entreat it. 
+
+
+Re-enter Provost, with BARNARDINE, 
+Craupio muffled, and Jutet. 
+
+
+Duke. Which is that Barnardine? 
+Prov. This, my lord. 
+Duke. There was a friar told me of this 
+man. 
+Sirrah, thou art said to have a stubborn soul, 
+That apprehends no further than this world, 
+And squarest thy life according. Thou'rt 
+condemn'd: 
+But, for those earthly faults, I quit them all; 
+And pray. thee take this mercy to provide 
+For better times to come. Friar, advise him; 
+I leave him to your hand. What muffled fel- 
+low’s that? 491 
+Prov. This is another prisoner that I saved, 
+Who should have died when Claudio lost his 
+head; 
+As like almost to Claudio as himself. 
+[Unmuffles Claudio. 
+Duke. [To Isabella] If he be like your 
+krother, for his sake 
+Is he pardon’d; and for your lovely sake, 
+
+
+Give me your hand and say you will be mine, 
+
+He is my brother too: but fitter time for that. 
+
+By this Lord Angelo perceives he’s safe; 
+
+Methinks I see a quickening in his eye. 500 
+
+Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well: 
+
+Look that you love your wife; her worth 
+worth yours, 
+
+I find an apt remission in myself; 
+
+And yet here's one in place I cannot pardon. 
+
+[To Lucio] You, sirrah, that knew me for a 
+focl, a coward, 
+
+One all of luxury, an ass, a madman; 
+
+Wherein have I so deserved of you, 
+
+That you extol me thus? 
+
+Lucio. ‘Faith, my lord, I spoke it but ac- 
+cording to the trick. If you will hang me for 
+it, you may; but I had rather it would please 
+you I might be whipt. 
+
+Dake. Whipt first, sir, and hanged after. 
+Proclaim it, provost, round about the city, 
+
+Ts any woman wrong’d by this lewd fellow, 
+
+As I have heard him swear himself there’s 
+one 
+
+Whom he begot with child, let her appear, 
+
+And he shall marry her: the nuptial finish’d, 
+
+Let him be whipt and hang'd. 
+
+Lucio. I beseech your highness, do not marry 
+me to a whore. Your highness said even now, 
+I made you a duke: good my lord, do not 
+recompense me in making me a cuckold. 
+
+Duke. Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry 
+
+her. 
+Thy slanders I forgive; and therewithal 
+Remit thy other forfeits. Take him to prison; 
+And see our pleasure hereit_ executed. 
+
+Lucio. Marrying a punk, my lord, is press- 
+ing to death, whipping, and hanging. 
+
+Duke. Slandering a prince deserves it. 530 
+
+[Exeunt Officers with Lucio. 
+She, Claudio, that you wrong’d, look you 
+restore. 
+Joy to you, Mariana! Love her, Angelo: 
+I have confess'd her and I know her virtue. 
+Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much 
+goodness: 
+There’s more behind that is more gratulate, 
+Thanks, provost, for thy care and secrecy: 
+We shall employ thee in a worthier place. 
+Forgive him, Angelo, that brought you home 
+The head of Ragozine for Claudio’s: 
+The offence pardons itself. Dear Isabel, 540 
+I have a motion much imports your good; 
+Whereto if you'll a willing ear incline, 
+What’s mine is yours and what is yours is 
+mine. 
+So, bring us to our palace; where we'll show 
+What's yet behind, that’s meet you all should 
+know. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+~~ = 
+
+
+THE COMEDY OF ERRORS 
+
+
+DRAMATIS 
+
+
+Soiin JS, duke of Ephesus. 
+
+FEGEON, a merchant of Syracuse. 
+
+twin brothers, 
+
+and sons to 
+
+fEgeon and 
+Emilia. 
+
+: | twin brothers, and 
+
+
+ANTIPHOLUus of Ephesus, ( 
+ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse, | 
+
+
+Dromio of Ephesus, 
+
+
+attendants on the 
+Dromio of Syracuse, 
+
+
+two Antipholuses, 
+BALTHAZAR, a merchant. 
+ANGELO, a goldsmith. 
+
+First Merchant, friend 
+
+
+Syracuse. 
+
+
+to Antipholus of 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+
+
+Scene IJ. A hall in the DuKE's palace. 
+
+
+Enter Duxe, AZcEON, Gaoler, Officers, and 
+other Attendants. 
+
+
+Zge, Proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall 
+And by the doom of death end woes and all. 
+Duke. Merchant of Syracusa, plead no 
+more; 
+I am not partial to infringe our laws: 
+The enmity and discord which of late 
+Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your 
+duke 
+To merchants, our well-dealing countrymen, 
+Who wanting guilders to redeem their lives 
+Haye seal’d his rigorous statutes with their 
+bloods, 
+Excludes all pity from our threatening looks 
+For, since the mortal and intestine jars 
+*Twixt thy seditious countrymen and us, 
+It hath in.solemn synods been decreed, 
+Both by the Syracusians and ourselves, 
+To admit no traffic to our adverse towns: 
+Nay, more, 
+If any born at Ephesus be seen 
+At any Syracusian marts and fairs; 
+Again: if any Syracusian born 
+Come to the bay of Ephesus, he dies, 20 
+His goods confiscate to the duke’s dispose, 
+Unless a thousand marks be levied, 
+To quit the penalty and to ransom him. 
+Thy substance, valued at the highest rate, 
+Cannot amount unto a hundred marks; 
+Therefore by law thou art condemn’d to die. 
+“Ege. Yet this my comfort: when your 
+words are done, 
+
+
+PERSON-A 
+
+Second Merchant, to whom Angelo is a 
+debtor. 
+
+PINCH, a schoolmaster. 
+
+FEmiuisa, wife to /Egeon, an abbess at 
+Ephesus. 
+
+
+ApRIANA, wife to Antipholus of Ephesus, 
+Luciana, her sister. 
+
+Luce, servant to Adriana. 
+
+A Courtezan. 
+
+
+Gaoler, Officers, and other Attendants. 
+Scene: Ephesus. 
+
+
+My woes end likewise with the evening sun, 
+Duke. Well, Syracusian, say in brief the 
+
+cause 
+
+Why thou departed’st from thy native home 
+
+And for what cause thou camest to Ephesus, 
+
+Ege. A heavier task could not have been 
+
+imposed 
+
+Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable: 
+
+Yet, that the world may witness that my end 
+
+Was wrought by nature, not by vile offence, 
+
+I "ll utter what my sorrow gives me leave. 
+
+In Syracusa was I born, and wed 
+
+Unto a woman, happy but for me, 
+
+And by me, had not our hap been bad. 
+
+With her I lived in joy; our wealth increased 
+
+By prosperous voyages I often made 
+
+To Epidamnum; till my factor’s death 
+
+And the great care of goods at random left 
+
+Drew me from kind embracements of my 
+spouse: 
+
+From whom my absence was not six months old 
+
+Before herself, almost at fainting under 
+
+The pleasing punishment that women bear, 
+
+Had made provision for her following me 
+
+And soon and safe arrived where I was. 
+
+There had she not been long but she became 50 
+
+A joyful mother of two goodly sons; 
+
+And, which was strange, the one so like the 
+other 
+
+As could noi be distinguish’d but by names. 
+
+That very hour and in the self-same inn 
+
+A meaner woman was delivered 
+
+Of sucn a burden, male twins, both alike: 
+
+Those, for their parents were exceeding poor, 
+
+I bought and brought up to attend my sons. 
+
+My wife, not meanly proud of two such boys, 
+
+
+113 
+
+
+114 
+
+
+THE COMEDY OF ERRORS 
+
+
+[Acr I, Se. fl 
+
+
+Made daily motions for our home return: 60 
+Unwilling [ agreed; alas! too soon r 
+We came aboard. 
+A league from Epidamnum had we sail'd, 
+Before the always wind-obeying deep 
+Gave any tragic instance of dur harm: 
+But longer did we not retain much hope; 
+For what obscured light the heavens did grant 
+Did but convey unto our fearful minds 
+A doubtful warrant of immediate death; 
+Which though myself would gladly have em- 
+braced, 70 
+Yet the incessant weepings of my wife, 
+Weeping before for what she saw must come, 
+And piteous plainings of the pretty babes, 
+That mourn’d for fashion, ignorant what to 
+fear, 
+Forced me to seek delays for them and me. 
+And this it was, for other means was none: 
+The sailors sought for safety by our boat, 
+And left the ship, then sinking-ripe, to us: 
+My wife, more careful for the latter-born, 
+Had fasten’d him unto a small spare mast, 80 
+Such as seafaring men provide for storms; 
+To him one of the other twins was bound, 
+Whilst I had been like heedful of the other; 
+The children thus disposed, my wife and I, 
+Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fix’d, 
+Fasten’d ourselves at either end the mast; 
+And floating straight, obedient to the stream, 
+Was carried towards Corinth, as we thought. 
+At length the sun, gazing upon the earth, 
+Dispersed those vapours that offended us; 90 
+And, by the benefit of his wished light, 
+The seas wax'd calm, and we discovered 
+Two ships from far making amain to us, 
+Of Corinth that, of Epidaurus this: 
+But ere they came,—O, let me say no more! 
+Gather the sequel by that went before. 
+Duke. Nay, forward, old man; do not 
+break off so; 
+For we may pity, though not pardon thee. 
+“Ege. O, had the gods done so, I had not 
+now 
+Worthily term’d them merciless to us! 100 
+For, ere the ships could meet by twice five 
+leagues, 
+e were encounter'd by a mighty rock; 
+Which being violently borne upon, 
+Our helpful ship was splitted in the midst; 
+So that, in this unjust divorce of us, 
+Fortune had left to both of us alike 
+What to delight in, what to sorrow for. 
+Her part, poor soul! seeming as burdened 
+With lesser weight but not with lesser woe, 
+Was carried with more speed before the wind; 
+And in our sight they three were taken up 
+By fishermen of Corinth, as we thought. 
+At length, another ship had seized on us; 
+
+
+And, knowing whom it was their hap to save, 
+Gave healthful welcome to their shipwreck’d 
+guests ; 
+And would have reft the fishers of their prey, 
+Had not their bark been very slow of sail; 
+And therefore homeward did they bend their 
+course. 
+Thus have you heard me sever'd from my bliss, 
+That by misfortunes was my life prolong’d, 
+To tell sad stories of my own mishaps. 
+Duke. And, for the sake of them thou 
+sorrowest for, 
+Do me the favour to dilate at full 
+What hath befall’n of them and thee till now. 
+“Ege, My youngest boy, and yet my eldest 
+care, 
+At eighteen years became inquisitive 
+After his brother: and importuned me 
+That his attendant—so his case was like, 
+Reft of his brother, but retain’d his name— 
+Might bear him company in the quest of him: 
+Whom whilst I labour'd of a love to see, 131 
+I hazarded the loss of whom I loved. 
+Five summers have | spent in furthest Greece, 
+Roaming clean through the bounds of Asia, 
+And, coasting homeward, came to Ephesus; 
+Hopeless to find, yet loath to leave unsought 
+Or that or any place that harbours men. 
+But here must end the story of my life; 
+And happy were I in my timely death, 
+Could all my travels warrant me they live. 140 
+Duke. WHapless AEgeon, whom the fates 
+have mark’d 
+Yo bear the extremity of dire mishap! 
+Now, trust me, were it not against our laws, 
+Against my crown, my oath, my dignity, 
+Which princes, would they, may not disannul, 
+My soul should sue as advocate for thee. 
+But, though thou art adjudged to the death 
+And passed sentence may not be recall’d 
+But to our honour’s great disparagement, 
+Yet I will favour thee in what I can. 150 
+Therefore, merchant, I'll limit thee this day 
+To seek thy life by beneficial help: 
+Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus; 
+Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum, 
+And live; if no, then thou art doom’d to die 
+Gaoler, take him to thy custody. 
+Gaol. I will, my lord. 
+“Ege. Hopeless and helpless doth AZ geon 
+wend, 
+But to procrastinate his lifeless end. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+The Mart. 
+
+
+Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse, Dromio of 
+Syracuse, and First Merchant. 
+
+
+Scene II. 
+
+
+First Mer. Therefore give out you are of 
+Epidamnum, 
+
+
+; 
+
+
+Act I, Sc. II] 
+
+
+THE COMEDY OF ERRORS 
+
+
+115 
+
+
+Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate. 
+This very day a Syracusian merchant 
+Is apprehended for arrival here; 
+And not being able to buy out his life 
+According to the statute of the town 
+Dies ere the weary sun set in the west. 
+There is your money that | had to keep. 
+Ant. S. Go bear it to the Centaur, where 
+we host, 
+And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee. 10 
+Within this hour it will be dinner-time: 
+Till that, I ll view the manners of the town, 
+Peruse the traders, gaze upon the buildings, - 
+And then return and sleep within mine inn, 
+For with long travel I am stiff and weary. 
+Get thee away. 
+Dro. S. Many a man would take you at 
+your word, 
+And go indeed, having so good a mean. [Exil. 
+Ant. S. A trusty villain, sir, that very oft, 
+When I am dull with care and melancholy, 20 
+
+
+Lightens my humour with his merry jests. 
+
+
+~What, will you walk with me about the town, 
+
+
+And then go to my inn and dine with me? 
+First Mer. I am invited, sir, to certain 
+merchants, 
+Of whom I hope to make much pee 
+I crave your pardon. Soon at five aitk: 
+Please you, | ‘ll meet with you upon the mart 
+And afterward consort you till bed-time: 
+My present business calls me from you now. 
+Ant. S. Farewell till then: I will go lose 
+myself 30 
+And wander up and down to view the city. 
+First Mer. Sir, | commend you to your own 
+
+
+content. [Exit. 
+Ant. S. He that commends me to mine own 
+content 
+
+
+Commends me to the thing I cannot get. 
+
+I to the world am like a drop of water 
+
+That in the ocean seeks another drop, 
+
+Who, falling there to find his fellow forth, 
+Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself : 
+
+So I, to find a mother and a brother, 
+
+In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself. 40 
+
+
+Enter Dromio of Ephesus. 
+
+
+Here comes the almanac of my true date. 
+
+What now? how chance thou art return’d so 
+soon ? 
+
+Dro. E. Return’d so soon! rather approach’d 
+
+too late: 
+
+The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit, 
+
+The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell; 
+
+My mistress made it one upon my cheek: 
+
+She is so hot because the meat is cold; 
+
+The meat is cold because you come not home; 
+
+‘You come not home because you have no 
+stomach: 
+
+
+You have no stomach having broke your fast; 
+But we that know what ‘tis to fast and pray 5] 
+Are penitent for your default to-day. 
+
+Ant. S. Stop in your wind, sir: tell me this, 
+
+I pray: 
+Where have you left the money that I gave you? 
+
+Dro. E. O,—sixpence, that I had o' Wed- 
+
+nesday last 
+To pay the saddler for my mistress’ crupper ? 
+The saddler had it, sir; I kept it not. 
+
+Ant. S. | am not ina sportive humour now: 
+Tell me, and dally not, where is the money ? 
+We being strangers here, how darest thou trust 
+So great a charge from thine own custody? 61 
+
+Dro. E. I pray you, jest, sir, as you sit al 
+
+dinner: 
+
+I from my mistress come to you in post; 
+
+If I return, I shall be post indeed, 
+
+For she will score your fault upon my pate. 
+
+Methinks your maw, like mine, should be 
+your clock 
+
+And strike you home without a messenger. 
+
+Ant. S. Come, Dromio, come, these jests 
+
+are out of season; 
+
+Reserve them till a merrier hour than this. 
+
+Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee? 70 
+
+Dro. E. To me, sir? why, you gave no gold 
+
+to me. 
+
+Ant. S. Come on, sir knave, have done your 
+
+foolishness 
+And tell me how thou hast disposed thy charge, 
+Dro. E. My charge was but to fetch you 
+from the mart 
+Home to your house, the Phcenix, sir, to dinner: 
+My mistress and her sister stays for you. 
+
+Ant. S. Now, as 1 am a Christian, answer me 
+
+In what safe place you have bostow’d my 
+money, 
+
+Or I shall break that merry sconce of yours 
+
+That stands on tricks when I am undisposed: 80 
+
+Where is the thousand marks thou hadst of me? 
+
+Dro. E. I have some marks of yours upon 
+
+my paie, 
+
+Some of my mistress’ marks upon my shoulders, 
+
+But not a thousand marks between you both. 
+
+If I should pay your worship those again, 
+
+Perchance you will not bear them patiently. 
+
+Ant. S. Thy mistress’ marks? what mis- 
+
+tress, slave, hast thou? 
+
+Dro. E. Your worship’s wife, my mistress 
+
+at the Phenix; 
+She that doth fast till you come home to dinner 
+And prays that you will hie you home to 
+
+
+dinner. 
+Ant. S. What, wilt thou flout me thus unto 
+my face, 91 
+
+
+Being forbid? There, take you that, sir knave. 
+Dro. E. What mean you, sir? for God's 
+sake, hold your hands! 
+
+
+/ 
+
+
+116 
+
+
+THE COMEDY OF ERRORS 
+
+
+{Acr II, Se. I 
+
+
+Nay, an you will not, sir, I ‘ll take my heels. 
+[Exit. 
+Ant. S. Upon my life, by some device or 
+other 
+
+The villain is o’er-raught of all my money. 
+
+They say this town is full of cozenage, 
+
+As, nimble jugglers that deceive the eye, 
+
+Dark-working sorcerers that change the mind, 
+
+Soul-killing witches that deform the body, 100 
+
+Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks, 
+
+And many such-like liberties of sin: 
+
+If it prove so, I will be gone the sooner. 
+
+I'll to the Centaur, to go seek this slave: 
+
+I greatly fear my money is not safe. [Ezxit. 
+
+
+ACT II. 
+
+
+Scene I. The house of ANTIPHOLUS of Ephe- 
+sus. 
+Enter ApriaNa and LUCIANA, 
+Adr, Neither my husband nor the slave re- 
+turn’d, 
+That in such haste I sent to seek his master! 
+Sure, Luciana, it is two o'clock. 
+Luc. Perhaps some merchant hath invited 
+him 
+And from the mart he’s somewhere gone to 
+dinner. 
+Good sister, let us dine and never fret: 
+A man is master of his liberty: 
+Time is their master, and when they see time 
+They'll go or come: if so, be patient, sister. 
+Adr. Why should their liberty then ours be 
+more? 10 
+Luc. Because their business still lies out o’ 
+door. 
+Adr. Look, when I serve him so, he takes it 
+ill. 
+Luc. O, know he is the bridle of your will. 
+Adr,. There’s none but asses will be bridled 
+so. 
+Luc. Why, headstrong liberty is lash’d with 
+woe. 
+There’s nothing situate under heaven’s eye 
+But hath his bound, in earth, in sea, in sky: 
+The beasts, the fishes and the winged fowls 
+Are their males’ subjects and at their controls: 
+Men, more divine, the masters of all these, 20 
+Lords of the wide world and wild watery seas, 
+Indued with intellectual sense and souls, 
+Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls, 
+Are masters to their females, and their lords: 
+Then let your will attend on their accords. 
+Adr. This servitude makes you to keep un- 
+wed. 
+Luc. Not this, but troubles of the marriage- 
+
+
+ed. 
+Adr. But, were you wedded, you would 
+bear some sway. 
+
+
+Luc. Ere | learn love, Ill practise to obey. 
+Adr. How if your husband start some other 
+where? 30 
+Luc. Till he come home again, I would for- 
+bear. 
+Adr. Patience unmoved! no marvel though 
+she pause; 
+They can be meek that have no other cause. 
+A wretched soul, bruised with adversity, 
+We bid be quiet when we hear it cry; 
+But were we burden'd with like weight of pain, 
+As much or more we should ourselves complain: 
+So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve 
+thee, 
+With urging helpless patience wouldst relieve 
+me; 
+But, if thou live to see like right bereft, 40 
+This fool-begg’d patience in thee will be left. 
+Luc. Well, I will marry one day, but to try. 
+Here comes your man; now is your husband 
+nigh. 
+
+
+Enter Dromio of Ephesus, 
+
+
+Adr. Say, is your tardy master now at hand? 
+Dro. E. Nay, he’s at two hands with me, 
+and that my two ears can witness, 
+Adr. Say, didst thou speak with him? 
+know’st thou his mind? 
+Dro. E. Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine 
+ear: 
+Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand it. 
+Luc. Spake he so doubtfully, thou couldst 
+not feel his meaning > 3 
+Dro. E. Nay, he struck so plainly, I could 
+too well feel his blows; and withal so doubt- 
+fully that I could scarce understand them. 
+Adr. 
+home ? 
+It seems he hath great care to please his wife. 
+Dro. E. Why, mistress, sure my master is 
+horn-mad. 
+Adr. Horn-mad, thou villain! 
+Dro. E. I mean not cuckold-mad; 
+But, sure, he is stark mad. 
+When I desired him ta come home to dinner, 
+He ask’d me for a thousand marks in gold: 
+*’Tis dinner-time,’ quoth I; “My gold!’ quoth 
+he: 
+‘Your meat doth burn,’ quoth I; ‘My gold!” 
+quoth he: 
+‘Will you come home?’ quoth I; 
+quoth he, 
+“Where is the thousand marks I gave thee, 
+villain?” 
+‘The pig,’ quoth I, ‘is burn’d;’ ‘My gold!’ 
+quoth he: 
+‘My mistress, sir,” quoth I; ‘Hang up thy mis- 
+tress! 
+i know not thy mistress; out on thy mistress!’ 
+
+
+But say, I prithee, is he coming 
+
+
+‘My gold!’ . 
+
+
+2A 
+
+
+\, 
+
+
+“Act Il, Se. Hl] 
+
+
+THE COMEDY OF ERRORS 
+
+
+Ne. 
+
+
+17 
+
+
+Luc. Quoth who? 
+Dro. E. Quoth my master: 
+*I know,’ quoth he, ‘no house, no wife, no mis- 
+tress.” 
+So that my errand, due unto my tongue, 
+I thank him, I bare home upon my shoulders; 
+For, im conclusion, he did beat me there. 
+Adr. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch 
+him home. 
+Dro. E. Go back again, and be new 
+beaten home? 
+For God’s sake, send some other messenger. 
+Adr. Back, slave, or I will break thy pate 
+across. 
+Dro. E. And he will bless that cross with 
+other beating: 
+Between you I shall have a holy head. 80 
+Adr. Hence, prating peasant! fetch thy 
+master home. 
+Dro. E. Am | so round with you as you 
+with me, 
+That like a football you do spurn me thus? 
+
+
+~. You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+—_— os. 
+
+
+en 
+
+
+hither: 
+
+If I last in this service, you must case me in 
+leather. [Exit. 
+
+Luc. Fie, how impatience loureth in your 
+face! 
+Adr. His company must do his minions 
+
+grace, 
+
+Whilst I at home starve for a merry look. 
+
+Hath homely age the alluring beauty took 
+
+From my poor cheek? then he hath oe 
+it: 
+
+Are my discourses dull? barren my wit? 
+
+If voluble and sharp discourse be marr’d, 
+
+Unkindness blunts it more than marble hard: 
+
+Do their gay vestments his affections bait? 
+
+That’s not my fault; he’s master of my state: 
+
+What ruins are in me that can be found, 
+
+By him not ruin’d? then is he the ground 
+
+Of my defeatures. My decayed fair 
+
+A sunny look of his would soon repair: 
+
+But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale 100 
+
+And feeds from home; poor | am but his stale. 
+
+
+Luc. Self-harming jealousy! fie, beat it 
+hence! 
+
+Adr. Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs 
+dispense. 
+
+
+I know his eye doth homage otherwhere; 
+
+Gr else what lets it but he would be here? 
+Sister, you know he promised me a chain; 
+Would that aione, alone he would detain, 
+
+So he would keep fair quarter with his bed! 
+I see the jewel best enamelled 
+
+, Will lose his beauty; yet the gold bides still, 
+That others touch, and often touching will 111 
+7 Wear gold: and no man that hath a name, 
+By falsehood and corruption doth it shame. 
+
+
+70 Since that my beauty cannot please his eye, 
+
+
+I'll weep what's left away, and weeping die. 
+Luc. How many fond fools serve mad 
+jealousy! |Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene I]. A public place. 
+Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse. 
+
+
+Ant. S. The gold I gave to Dromio is laid up 
+Safe at the Centaur; and the heedful slave 
+Is wander’d.forth, in care to seek me out 
+By computation and mine host's report. 
+I could not speak with Dromio since at first 
+I sent him from the mark. See, here he comes. 
+Enter Dromio of Syracuse. 
+How now, sir! is your merry humour alter’d? 
+As you love strokes, so jest with me again. 
+You know no Centaur? you received no gold? 
+Your mistress sent to have me home to dinner ? 
+My house was at the Phcenix> Wast thou mad, 
+That thus so madly thou didst answer me? 
+Dro. S. What answer, sir? when spake | 
+such a word? 
+Ant. S. Even now, even here, not half an 
+hour since. 
+Dro. S. 1 did not see you since you sent me 
+hence, 
+Home to the Centaur, with the gold you gave 
+
+
+me. 
+Ant. S. Villain, thou didst deny the gold’s 
+receipt 
+And told’st me of a mistress and a dinner; 
+For which, I hope, thou felt’st I was dis- 
+
+
+pleased. 
+Dro. S. I am glad to see you in this merry 
+vein: 
+What means this jest? I pray you, master, tell 
+
+
+me. 
+Ant, S. Yea, dost thou jeer and flout me 
+in the teeth? 
+Think’st thou I jest? Hold, take thou thal, 
+and that. [Beating him. 
+Dro. S. Hold, sir, for God’s sake! now 
+your jest is earnest: 
+Upon what bargain do you give it me? 
+
+Ant. S. Because that I familiarly sometimes 
+Do use you for my fool and chat with you, 
+Your sauciness will jest upon my love 
+And make a common of my serious hours. 
+When the sun shines let foolish gnats make 
+
+sport, 36 
+But creep in crannies when he hides his beams. 
+If you will jest with me, know my aspect 
+And fashion your demeanour to my looks, 
+Or I will beat this method in your sconce. 
+
+Dro. S. Sconce call you it? so you would 
+leave battering, I had rather have it a head: an 
+you use these blows long, I must get a sconce 
+for my head and insconce it too; or else 
+
+
+116 
+
+
+THE COMEDY OF ERRORS 
+
+
+[Act II, Se. II 
+
+
+shall seek my wit in my shoulders. 
+pray, sir, why am | beaten? 
+
+Ant, S, Dost thou not know? 
+
+Dro. S. Nothing, sir, but that I am beaten. 
+
+Ant. S. Shall 1 tell you why ? 
+
+Dro. S. Ay, sir, and wherefore; for they 
+say every why hath a wherefore. 
+
+Ant. S, Why, first—for flouting me; and 
+
+then, wherefore,— 
+For urging it the second time to me. 
+
+Dro. S. Was there ever any man thus 
+
+beaten out of season, 
+
+When in the why and the wherefore is neither 
+rhyme nor reason ? 
+
+Well, sir, I thank you. 50 
+
+Ant. S, Thank me, sir! for what? 
+
+Dro. S. Marry, sir, for this something that 
+you gave me for nothing. 
+
+Ant. S. I'll make you amends next, to give 
+you nothing for something. But say, sir, is it 
+dinner-time ? 
+
+Dro. S. No, sir: 
+
+I have. 
+
+Ant. S. In good time, sir; what's that?! 
+
+Dro. S, Basting. 
+
+Ant. S. Well, sir, then ‘twill be dry. 60 
+
+Dro. S. If it be, sir, I pray you, eat none of it. 
+
+Ant, S. Your reason? 
+
+Dro. S. Lest it make you choleric and pur- 
+chase me another dry basting. 
+
+Ant. S. Well, sir, learn to jest in good time: 
+there’s a time for all things. 
+
+Dro. S. 1 durst have denied that, before you 
+were so choleric. 
+
+Ant. S. By what rule, sir? 
+
+Dro. S. Marry, sir, by a rule as plain as the 
+plain bald pate of father Time himself. 71 
+
+Ant. S. Let's hear it. 
+
+Dro. S. There’s no time for a man to re- 
+cover his hair that grows bald by nature. 
+
+Ant, S, May he not do it by fine and re- 
+covery ? 
+
+D,-.S. Yes, to pay a fine for a periwig and 
+recover the lost hair of another man. 
+
+Ant. S. Why is Time such a niggard of 
+hair, being, as it is, so plentiful an excrement? 
+
+Dro. S. Because it is a blessing that he be- 
+stows on beasts; and what he hath scanted men 
+in hair he hath given them in wit. 
+
+Ant. S. Why, but there’s many a man hath 
+more hair than wit, 
+
+Dro. S. Not a man of those but he hath the 
+wit to lose his hair. 
+
+Ant. S. Why, thou didst conclude hairy 
+men plain dealers without wit. 
+
+Dro. S. The plainer dealer, the sooner lost: 
+yet he loseth it in a kind of jollity. 90 
+
+Ant. S, For what reason? 
+
+Dro. S. For two; and sound ones too. 
+
+
+But, | 
+40 
+
+
+I think the meat wants that 
+
+
+Ant. S. Nay, not sound, I pray you. 
+
+Dro. S. Sure ones then. 
+
+Ant, S. Nay, not sure, in a thing falsing. 
+Dro. S. Certain ones then. 
+
+Ant, S. Name them. 
+
+Dro. S. The one, to save the money that he 
+
+
+spends in tiring; the other that at dinner they 
+should not drop in his porridge. 100 
+
+Ant. S, You would all this time have proved 
+there is no time for all things. 
+
+Dro. S. Marry, and did, sir; namely, no 
+time to recover hair lost by nature. 
+
+Ant. S, But your reason was not substantial, 
+why there is no time to recover. 
+
+Dro. S. Thus I mend it: Time himself is 
+bald and therefore to the world’s end will 
+have bald followers. 
+
+Ant. S. I knew ‘twould be a bald conclu- 
+sion: But, soft! who wafts us yonder? II] 
+
+
+Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA. 
+Adr. Ay, ay, Antipholus, look strange and 
+
+
+frown: 
+Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects; 
+I am not Adriana nor thy wife. 
+The time was once when thou unurged wouldst 
+vow 
+That never words were music to thine ear, 
+That never objects pleasing in thine eye, 
+That never touch well welcome to thy hand, 
+That never meat sweet-savour’d in thy taste, 
+Unless J spake, or look'd, or touch'd, or 
+carved to thee, 120 
+
+
+How comes it now, my husband, O, how comes 
+
+
+it, 
+That thou art thus estranged from thyself? 
+Thyself I call it, being strange to me, 
+That, undividable, incorporate, 
+Am better than thy dear self’s better part. 
+Ah, do not tear away thyself from me! 
+For know, my love, as easy mayest thou fall 
+A drop of water in the breaking gulf 
+And take unmingled thence that drop again, 
+Without addition or diminishing, 130 
+As take from me thyself and not me too. 
+How dearly would it touch thee to the quick, 
+Shouldst thou but hear I were licentious 
+And that this body, consecrate to thee, 
+By ruffian lust should be contaminate! 
+Wouldst theu not spit at me and spurn at me 
+And hurl the name of husband in my face 
+And tear the stain’d skin off my harlot-brow 
+And from my false hand cut the wedding-ring 
+And break it with a deep-divorcing vow? 140 
+I know thou canst; and therefore see thou da 
+It 
+T am possess’d with an adulterate blot; 
+My blood is mingled with the crime of lust: 
+For if we two be one and thou play false, 
+
+
+Act Ill, Sc. I] 
+
+
+THE COMEDY OF ERRORS 
+
+
+mys 
+
+
+I do digest the poison of thy flesh, 
+Being strumpeted by thy contagion. 
+Keep then fair league and truce with thy true 
+bed; 
+I live unstain’d, thou undishonoured. 
+Ant. S. Plead you to me, fair dame? I 
+know you not: 
+In Ephesus I am but two hours old, 150 
+As strange unto your town as to your talk; 
+Who, every word by all my wit being scann’d, 
+Want wit in all one word to understand. 
+Luc. Fie, brother! how the world is changed 
+with you! 
+When were you wont to use my sister thus ? 
+She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner. 
+Ant. S. By Dromio? 
+Dro. S. By me? 
+Adr. By thee; and this thou didst return 
+from him, 
+That he did buffet thee and in his blows 160 
+Denied my house for his, me for his wife. 
+Ant. S. Did you converse, sir, with this 
+gentlewoman > 
+What is the course and drift of your compact? 
+Dro. S. I, sir? I never saw her till thi; time. 
+Ant, S. Villain, thou liest; for even her 
+very words 
+Didst thou deliver to me on the mart. 
+Dro. S. I never spake with her in all my 
+life, 
+Ant. S. How can she thus then call us by 
+our names? 
+Unless it be by inspiration, 169 
+Adr. How ill agrees it with your gravity 
+Yo counterfeit thus grossly with your slave, 
+Abetting him to thwart me in my mood! 
+Be it my wrong you are from me exempt, 
+But wrong not that wrong with a more con- 
+tempt. ; 
+Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine: 
+Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine, 
+Whose weakness married to thy stronger state 
+Makes me with thy strength to communicate: 
+If aught possess thee from me, it is dross. 
+Usurping ivy, brier, or idle moss; 180 
+Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion 
+Infect thy sap and live on thy confusion. 
+Ant. S. To me she speaks; she moves me 
+for her theme: 
+What, was I married to her in my dream? 
+Or sleep I now and. think I hear all this? 
+What error drives our eyes and ears amiss? 
+Until I know this sure uncertainty, 
+I'll entertain the offer’d fallacy. 
+Luc. Dromio, go bid the servants spread for 
+
+
+dinner. 
+Dro. S. O, for my beads! I cross me for a 
+sinner, 190 
+
+
+[his is the fairy land: O spite of spites! 
+
+
+We talk with goblins, owls and sprites: 
+If we obey them not, this will ensue, 
+They'll suck our breath or pinch us black and 
+blue. 
+Luc. Why pratest thou to thyself and an- 
+swer'st not? 
+Dromio, thou drone, thou snail, thou slug, 
+thou sot! 
+Dro. S. I am transformed, master, am | not? 
+Ant. S. I think thou art in mind, and so am I. 
+Dro, S. Nay, master, both in mind and in 
+my shape. 
+Ant. S, Thou hast thine own form. 
+
+
+Dro. S. No, I am an ape. 
+
+Luc. If thou art changed to aught, ‘tis to an 
+ass. 201 
+
+Dro. S, "Tis true; she rides me and I long 
+for grass. 
+
+
+"Tis so, I am an ass; else it could never be 
+But I should know her as well as she knows me. 
+Adr. Come, come, no longer will I be a fool, 
+To put the finger in the eye and weep, 
+Whilst man and master laugh my woes to scorn. 
+Come, sir, to dinner. Dromio, keep the gate. 
+Husband, I'll dine above with you to-day 
+And shrive you of a thousand idle pranks. 210 
+Sirrah, if any ask you for your master, 
+Say he dines forth and let no creature enter. 
+Come, sister. Dromio, play the porter well. 
+Ant. S. Am | in earth, in heaven, or in hell? 
+Sleeping or waking? mad or well-advised? 
+Known unto these, and to myself disguised! 
+I'll say as they say and persever so 
+And in this mist at all adventures go. 
+Dro. S. Master, shall I be porter at the gate? 
+Adr. Ay; and let none enter, lest I break 
+
+
+your pate. 220 
+
+Luc. Come, come, Antipholus, we dine too 
+
+late. [Exeunt. 
+ACT III. 
+
+Scene I, Before the house of ANTIPHOLUS 
+
+
+of Ephesus. 
+
+
+Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, DRomio of 
+Ephesus, ANGELO, and BALTHAZAR. 
+
+
+Ant. E, Good Signior Angelo, you must ex- 
+
+cuse us all; 
+
+My wife is shrewish when I keep not hours: 
+
+Say that I linger’d with you at your shop 
+
+To see the making of her carcanet 
+
+And that to-morrow you will bring it home- 
+
+But here’s a villain that would face me down 
+
+He met me on the mart and that I beat him 
+
+And charged him with a thousand. marks ir 
+gold 
+
+And that | did deny my wife and house. 
+
+Liab amas thou, what didst thou mean Py 
+this? I 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+Dro. E. Say what you will, siz, but I know 
+what I know; 
+That you beat me at the mart, I have your 
+hand to show: 
+If the skin were parchment and the blows you 
+gave were ink, 
+Your own handwriting would tell you what I 
+think. 
+
+Ant. E. J think thou art an ass, 
+
+Dro. E. Marry, so it doth appear 
+By the wrongs I suffer and the blows I bear. 
+[ should kick, being kick’d; and, being at that 
+
+pass, 
+You would keep from my heels and beware of 
+an ass. 
+
+Ant. E. You're sad, Signior Balthazar: 
+
+pray God our cheer 
+May answer my good will and your good wel- 
+come here. 20 
+
+Bal. I hold your dainties cheap, sir, and 
+
+your welcome dear. 
+
+Ant. E. O, Signior Balthazer, either at flesh 
+
+or fish, 
+A table full of welcome makes scarce one 
+dainty dish. 
+
+Bal. Good meat, sir, is common; that every 
+
+churl affords. 
+
+Ant, E. And welcome more common; for 
+
+that’s nothing but words. 
+
+Bal. Small cheer and great welcome makes 
+
+a merry feast. 
+Ant. E, Ay to a niggardly host and more 
+sparing guest: 
+But though my cates be mean, take them in 
+
+
+good part; 
+
+Better cheer may you have, but not with better 
+heart. 
+
+But, soft! my door is lock’d. Go bid them let 
+us in. 30 
+
+
+Dro. E. Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cicely, 
+Gillian, Ginn! 
+
+Dro. S. [Within] Mome, malt-horse, 
+capon, coxcomb, idiot, patch! 
+
+Either get thee from the door or sit down at 
+the hatch. 
+Dost thow conjure for wenches, that thou 
+
+cali’st for such store, F 
+
+hen one is one too many? Go get thee from 
+the door, 
+
+Dro. E. What patch is made our porter? 
+My master stays in the street. 
+
+Dro. S. [Within] Let him walk from whence 
+he came, lest he catch cold on’s feet. 
+
+Ant. E. Who talks within there? ho, open 
+the door! 
+
+Dro. S. [Within] Right, sir; I'll tell you 
+when, an you ‘Il tell me wherefore. 
+
+Ani. E. Wherefore? for my dinner: I have 
+not dined to-dav. 40 
+
+
+THE COMEDY OF ERRORS 
+
+
+[Acr III, Sc. I 
+
+
+Dro. S. [Within] Nor to-day here you 
+must not; come again when you may. 
+Ant, E, What are thou that keepest me oul 
+
+from the house I owe? 
+Dro. S. [Within] The porter for this time, 
+sir, and my name is Dromio. 
+Dro. E. O villain! thou hast stolen both 
+mine office and my name. 
+The one ne'er got me credit, the other mickle 
+blame. 
+If thou hadst been Dromio to-day in my 
+place, 
+Thou wouldst have changed thy face for a 
+name or thy name for an ass. 
+Luce. [Within] What a coil is there, ~ 
+Dromio? who are those at the gate? 
+Dro. E. Let my master in, Luce. 
+
+Luce, [Within] Faith, no; he comes too late; 
+And so tell your master. ; 
+Dro. E. O Lord, I must laugh! 
+Have at you with a proverb—Shall I set in my 
+
+staff > 51 
+
+Luce. [Within] Have at you with another; 
+that’s—When? can you tell? / 
+
+Dro. S. [Within] If thy name be call'd 
+
+Luce,—Luce, thou hast answer'd him well, 
+
+Ant. E. Do you hear, you minion? you ’I 
+let us in, I hope? 
+
+Luce [Within] I thought to have ask’d you, _ 
+
+Dro. S. [Within] And you said no, 
+
+Dro, E. So, come, help: well struck! there 
+was blow for blow. 
+
+Ant, E. Thou baggage, let me in. 
+
+Luce. [Within] Can you tell for whose 
+sake? 
+
+Dro. E. Master, knock the door hard. 
+
+Luce, [Within] Let him knock till it ache. 
+
+Ant. E. You'll cry for this minion, if I 
+‘beat the door down. % 
+
+Luce. [Within] What needs all that, and 
+a pair of stocks in the town? 60 
+
+Adr. [Within] Who is that at the door 
+that, keeps all this noise? 
+
+Dro. S. [Within] By my troth, your town 
+is troubled with unruly boys. 
+
+Ant. E. Are you there, wife? you might 
+have come before. 
+
+Adr. [Within] Your wife, sir knave! go 
+get you from the door. 
+
+Dro. E. If you went in pain, master, this 
+‘knave’ would go sore. 
+
+Ang. Here is neither cheer, sir, nor wel- 
+come: we would fain have either. 
+
+Bal. In debating which was best, we shall 
+part with neither. 
+
+Dro. E. They stand at the door, master: 
+bid them welcome hither. 
+
+Ant. E. There is something in the wind, 
+that we cannot get in. 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+Act III, Sc. 1] 
+
+
+THE COMEDY OF ERRORS 
+
+
+121 
+
+
+Dro. E. You would say so, master, if your, 
+
+
+garments were thin. 
+Your cake there is warm within; 
+here in the cold: 
+_ It would make a man mad as a buck, to be so 
+bought and sold, 
+Ant. E. Go fetch me something; | 'll break 
+ope the gate. 
+Dro. S. [Within] Break any breaking here, 
+and [Il break your knave’s pate. 
+Dro. E. A man may break a word wath 
+you, sir, and words are but wind, 
+Ay, and break it in your face, so he break it 
+not behind. 
+Dro. S. [Within] It seems thou want'st 
+breaking: out upon thee, hind! 
+Dro. E. Here's too much “out upon thee!’ 
+I pray thee, let me in. 
+Dro. S. [Within] Ay, when fowls have no 
+feathers and fish have no fin. 
+Ant. E. Well, I'll break in: go borrow me 
+~ a crow. 80 
+Dro. E. A crow without feather ? 
+mean you so? 
+For a fish without a fin, there’s a fowl with- 
+out a feather: 
+If a crow help us in, sirrah, we'll pluck a 
+crow together. 
+Ant. E. Go get thee gone; fetch me an 
+iron crow. 
+Bal. Have patience, sir; O, let it not be so! 
+Herein you war against your reputation 
+And draw within the compass of suspect 
+The unviolated honour of your wife, 
+Once this,—your long experience of her wis- 
+dom, 
+Her sober virtue, years and modesty, 90 
+Plead on her part some cause to you un- 
+known; 
+And doubt not, sir, but she will well excuse 
+Why at this time the doors are made against 
+you. 
+Be ruled by me: depart m patience, 
+And let us to the Tiger all to dinner, 
+And about evening come yourself alone 
+To know the reason of this strange restraint. 
+If by strong hand you offer to break in 
+Now in the stirring passage of the day, 
+A vulgar comment will be made of it, 
+And that supposed by the common rout 
+Against your yet ungalled estimation 
+That may with foul intrusion enter in 
+And dwell upon your grave when you are 
+déad; 
+For slander lives upon succession, 
+For ever housed where it gets possession. 
+Ant. E. You have prevail’d: I will de- 
+part in quiet, 
+And, in despite of mirth, mean to be merry. 
+
+
+you stand 
+
+
+Master, 
+
+
+100 
+
+
+I know a wench of excellent discourse, 
+
+Pretty and witty, wild and yet, too, gentle: 
+
+There will we dine. This woman that I mean, 
+
+My wife—but, I protest, without desert— 
+
+Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal: 
+
+To her will we to dinner. [To Ang.] Gel 
+you home 
+
+And fetch the chain; by this I know ‘tis made: 
+
+Bring it, I pray you, to the Porpentine; 
+
+For there’s the house: that chain will I be- 
+stow— 
+
+Be it for nothing but to spite my wife— 
+
+Upon mine hostess there: good sir, make haste, 
+
+Since mine own doors refuse to entertain 
+
+
+me, 120 
+
+I "ll knock elsewhere, to see if they'll disdain 
+me. 
+
+Ang. I'll meet you at that place some hour 
+
+
+hence. 
+nt. E. Do so. This jest shall cost me 
+some expense. Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. The same. 
+
+
+Enter Luciana and ANtTIPHOLUs of Syracuse. 
+
+
+Luc. And may it be that you have quite 
+forgot 
+A husband's office? shall, Antipholus, 
+Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs 
+rot? 
+Shall love, in building, grow so ruinous? 
+If you did wed my sister for her wealth, 
+Then for her wealth’s sake use her with 
+more kindness: 
+Or if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth; 
+Muffle your false love with some show of 
+blindness: 
+Let not my sister read it in your eye; 
+Be not thy tongue thy own shame’s orator; 
+Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty; 
+Apparel vice like virtue’s harbinger; 
+Bear a fair presence, though your heart be 
+tainted; 
+Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint; 
+Be secret-false: what need she be acquainted ? 
+What simple thief brags of his own attaint? 
+"Tis double wrong, to truant with your bed 
+And let her read it in thy looks at board: 
+Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed; 
+Ill deeds are doubled with an evil word. 20 
+Alas, poor women! make us but believe, 
+Being compact of credit, that you love us; 
+Though others have the arm, show us the 
+sleeve; 
+We in your motion turn and you may 
+move us, 
+Then, gentle brother, get you in again; 
+Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her wife: 
+‘Tis holy sport to be a little vain. 
+
+
+122 
+
+
+THE COMEDY OF ERRORS 
+
+
+te, 
+
+
+[Aer III, Sc. II 
+
+
+When the sweet breath of flattery conquers 
+strife. 
+Ant. S. Sweet mistress—what your name 
+is else, I know not, 
+Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine,— 
+Less in your knowledge and your grace you 
+
+
+show not 
+Than our earth’s wonder, more than earth 
+divine. 
+Teach me, dear creature, how to think and 
+speak; 
+
+
+Lay open to my earthly-gross conceit, 
+Smother'd in errors, feeble, shallow, weak, 
+The folded meaning of your words’ deceit. 
+Against my soul’s pure truth why labour you 
+To make it wander in an unknown field? 
+Are you a god? would you create me new? 
+Transform me then, and to your power I ‘Il 
+yield. 40 
+But if that I am I, then well I know 
+Your weeping sister is no wife of mine. 
+Nor to her bed no homage do I owe: 
+Far more, far more to you do I decline. 
+O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy 
+note, 
+To drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears: 
+Sing, siren, for thyself and I will dote: 
+Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden 
+hairs, 
+And as a bed I'll take them and there lie, 
+And in that glorious supposition think 50 
+He gains by death that hath such means to 
+
+
+ie: 
+Let Love, being light, be drowned if she 
+sink! 
+Luc. What, are you mad, that you do 
+reason so> 
+Ant. S. Not mad, but mated; how, I do 
+not know. - 
+Luc. It is a fault that springeth from your 
+eye. 
+Ant. S. For gazing on your beams, fair 
+sun, being by. 
+Luc. Gaze where you should, and that will 
+clear your sight. 
+Ant. S..As good to wink, sweet love, as 
+look on night, 
+Luc. Why call you me love? call my sis- 
+ter so. 
+Ant. S. Thy sister's sister. 
+Luc. That’s my sister. 
+Ant. S. 0; 
+it is thyself, mine own self’s better part, 
+Mine eye’s clear eye, my dear heart's dearer 
+heart, 
+My food, my fortune and my sweet hope’s 
+aim, 
+Vly sole earth's heaven and my heaven's claim. 
+Luc. All this my sister is, or else should be. 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+Ant. S. Call thyself sister, sweet, for I am 
+thee. 
+
+Thee will I love and with thee lead my life: 
+Thou hast no husband yet nor I no wife. 
+Give me thy hand. 
+
+Luc. O, soft, sir! hold you still: 
+I'll fetch my sister, to get her good will. 
+
+[Exit. 70 
+
+
+Enter Dromio of Syracuse. 
+
+
+Ant. S. Why, how now, Dromio! where 
+
+
+runn’st thou so fast? 
+
+Dro. S. Do you know me, sir? am I 
+Dromio? am I your man? am I myself? 
+
+Ant. S, Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, 
+thou art thyself. 
+
+Dro. S. 1 am an ass, I am a woman's man 
+and besides myself. 
+
+Ant, S. What woman's man? and how 
+besides thyself > 
+
+Dro. S. Marry, sir, besides myself, I am 
+due to a woman; one that claims me, one that 
+haunts me, one that will have me. 
+
+Ant, S. What claim lays she to thee? 
+
+Dro. S. Marry,. sir, such claim as you 
+would lay to your horse; and she would have 
+me as a beast; not that, I being a beast, she 
+would have me; but that she, being a very 
+beastly creature, lays claim to me. 
+
+Ant. S. What is she? 
+
+Dro. S. A very reverent body; ay, such a 
+one as a man may not speak of without he say 
+‘Sir-reverence.’ I have but lean luck in the 
+match, and yet is she a wondrous fat marriage. 
+
+Ant, S. How dost thou mean a fat mar- 
+riage > : 
+
+Dro. S. Marry, sir, she’s the kitchen wench 
+and all grease; and I know not what use to put 
+her to but to make a lamp of her and run 
+from her by her own light. I warrant, her 
+rags and the tallow in them will burn a Poland 
+winter: if she lives till doomsday, she ‘ll burn 
+a week longer than the whole world. 
+
+Ant. S. What complexion is she of ? 
+
+Dro. S. Swart, like my shoe, but her face 
+nothing like so clean kept: for why, she 
+sweats; a man may go over shoes in the grime 
+of it. 
+
+Ant. S. That's a fault that water will mend, 
+
+Dro. S. No, sir, ‘tis in grain; Noah's flood 
+could not do it. 
+
+Ant. S. What's her name? 110 
+
+Dro. S. Nell, sir; but her name and three 
+quarters, that’s an ell and three quarters, will 
+not measure her from hip to hip. 
+
+Ant. S. Then she bears some breadth? 
+
+Dro. S. No longer from head to foot than 
+from hip to hip: she is spherical, like a globe; 
+I could find out countries in her, 
+
+
+oa 
+
+
+ee a) ee 
+
+
+Acr- IV; Se;.T] 
+
+
+Ant. S. In what part of her body stands 
+Ireland ? 
+
+Dro. S. Marry, sir, in her buttocks: I found 
+it out by the bogs. 121 
+_ Ant, S. Where Scotland? 
+
+Dro. S. 1 found it by the barrenness; hard 
+in the palm of the hand. 
+
+Ant. S. Where France? 
+
+Dro. S. In her forehead; armed and re- 
+verted, making war against her heir. 
+
+Ant. S. Where England? 
+
+Dro. S. 1 looked for the chalky cliffs, but I 
+could find no whiteness in them; but I guess it 
+stood in her chin, by the salt rheum that ran 
+between France and it. 
+
+Ant. S. Where Spain? 
+
+Dro. S. Faith, I saw it not; but I felt it 
+hot in her breath. 
+
+Ant. S. Where America, the Indies? 
+
+Dro. S. Oh, sir, upon her nose, all o'er 
+embellished’ with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, 
+declining their rich aspect to the hot breath of 
+Spain; who sent whole armadoes of caracks 
+to be ballast at her nose. 141 
+
+Ant. S. Where stood Belgia, the Nether- 
+lands? 
+
+Dro. S. Oh, sir, I did not look so low. To 
+conclude, this drudge, or diviner, laid claim 
+to me; called me Dromio; swore I was as- 
+sured to her; told me what privy marks I had 
+about me, as, the mark of my shoulder, the 
+mole in my neck, the great wart on my left 
+arm, that I amazed ran from her as a witch: 
+And, I think, if my breast had not been made 
+
+of faith and my heart of steel. 150 
+She had transform’d me to a curtal dog and 
+made me turn i’ the wheel. 
+
+Ant, S. Go hie thee presently, post to the 
+
+road: 
+An if the wind blow any way from shore, 
+I will not harbour in this town to-night: 
+If any bark put forth, come to the mart, 
+Where I will walk till thou return to me. 
+If every one knows us and we know none, 
+‘Tis time, I think, to trudge, pack and be gone. 
+Dro. S. As from a bear a man would run 
+for life, 
+So fly I from her that would be my wife. 
+[Exit. 
+Ant. S, There’s none but witches do in- 
+habit here; 161 
+And therefore ‘tis high time that I were hence. 
+She that doth call me husband, even my soul 
+Doth for a wife abhor. But her fair sister, 
+Possess'd with such a gentle sovereign grace, 
+Of such enchanting presence and discourse, 
+Hath almost made me traitor to myself; 
+But, lest myself be guilty to self-wrong, 
+I'll stop mine ears against the mermaid’s song. 
+
+
+THE COMEDY OF ERRORS 
+
+
+123 
+Enter ANGELO with the chain. 
+Ang. Master Antipholus,— 
+Ant. S. Ay, that's my name, 170 
+
+
+Ang. I know it well, sir; lo, here is the 
+chain. 
+I thought to have ta’en you at the Porpentine: 
+The chain unfinish’'d made me stay thus lang. 
+Ant. S. What is your will that I shall do 
+with this? 
+Ang. What please yourself, sir: I have 
+made it for you. 
+Ant, S. Made it for me, sir! I bespoke it 
+not. 
+Ang. Not once, nor twice, but twenty times 
+you have. 
+Go home with it and please your wife withal; 
+And soon at supper time I ‘Il visit you 
+And then receive my money for the chain. 180 
+Ant. S. I pray you, sir, receive the money 
+now, 
+For fear you ne'er see chain nor money more. 
+Ang. You are a merry man, sir: fare you 
+well, [Exit. 
+Ant. S. What I should’ think of this, I 
+cannot tell; i 
+But this I think, there’s no man is so vain 
+That would refuse so fair an offer’d chain. 
+I see a man here needs not live by shifts, 
+When in the streets he meets such golden gifts. 
+I'll to the mart and there for Dromio stay: 190 
+If any ship put out, then straight away. [Exit. 
+
+
+ACT IV. 
+
+
+Scene I. A public place, 
+
+
+Enter Second Merchant, ANGELO, and an 
+Officer. 
+
+
+Sec. Mer. You know since Pentecost the 
+sum is due, 
+And since I have not much importuned you; 
+Nor now I had not, but that I am bound 
+To Persia and want guilders for my voyage: 
+Therefore make present satisfaction, 
+Or I'll attach you by this officer. 
+Ang. Even just the sum that I do owe 
+to you 
+Is growing to me by Antipholus, 
+And in the instant that I met with you 
+He had of me a chain: at five o'clock 
+I shall receive the money for the same. 
+Pleaseth you walk with me down to his house, 
+I will discharge my bond and thank you too. 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus and Dromio 
+of Ephesus from the courtezan’s. 
+
+
+Off. That labour may you save; see where 
+he comes. 
+Ant. E. While I go to the goldsmith’s 
+
+
+house, go thou 
+
+
+- 
+
+
+124 
+
+
+f 
+
+
+THE COMEDY OF ERRORS 
+
+
+y 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc. } 
+
+
+And buy a rope’s end: that will I bestow 
+
+Among my wife and her confederates, 
+
+For locking me out of my doors by day. 
+
+But, soft! I see the goldsmith. Get thee gone; 
+
+Buy thou a rope and bring it home to me. 20 
+Dro. E. 1 buy a thousand pound a year: | 
+
+
+buy a rope. [Exit 
+Ant, E. A man is well holp up that trusts 
+fo you: 
+
+
+] promised your presence and the chain; 
+But neither chain nor goldsmith came to me. 
+Belike you thought our love would last too 
+
+
+long, / 
+If it were chain’d together, and therefore came 
+not. 
+Ang. Saving your merry humour, here’s the 
+note 
+How much your chain weighs to the utmost 
+carat, 
+
+
+The fineness of the gold and chargeful fashion, 
+Which doth amount to three odd ducats more 
+Than | stand debted to this gentleman: 
+1 pray you, see him presently discharged, 
+For he is bound to sea and stays but for it. 
+Ant. E. | am not furnish’d with the present 
+money ; 
+Besides, | have some business in the town. 
+Good signior, take the stranger to my house 
+And with you take the chain and bid my wife 
+Disburse the sum on the receipt thereof: 
+Perchance I will be there as soon as you. 
+Ang. Then you will bring the chain to her 
+yourself ? 40 
+Ant. E. No; bear it with you, lest I come 
+hot time enough. 
+
+
+Ang. Well, sir, I will. Have you the chain 
+
+
+about you? 
+Ant. E. An if 1 have not, sir, I hope you 
+have; 
+
+
+Or else you may return without your money. 
+Ang. Nay, come, I pray you, sir, give me 
+the chain: 
+Both wind and tide stays for this gentleman, 
+And I, to blame, have held him here too long. 
+Ant, E. Good Lord! you use this dalliance 
+to excuse 
+Your breach of promise to the Porpentine. 
+I should have chid you for not bringing it, 50 
+But, like a shrew, you first begin to brawl. 
+Sec. Mer. The hour steals on; I pray you, 
+sir, dispatch. 
+Ang. You hear how he importunes me;— 
+the chain! 
+Ant. E. Why, give it to my wife and fetch 
+your money, 
+Ang. Come, come, you know I gave it you 
+even now. 
+Either send the chain or send me by some 
+token. 
+
+
+Ant. E, Fie, now you run this humour out 
+of breath, 
+Come, where’s the chain? I pray you, let me 
+see it. 
+Sec. Mer. My business cannot brook this 
+dalliance. 
+Good sir, say whether you "Il answer me or no: 
+If not, I ‘ll leave him to the officer. 
+Ant. E. I answer you! what should I an- 
+
+
+swer you? 
+
+Ang. The money that you owe me for the 
+chain. 
+
+Ant. E. I owe you none till I receive the 
+chain. 
+
+Ang. You know I gave it you half an hour 
+
+
+since. 
+Ant. E. You gave me none: you wrong me 
+much to say so. 
+Ang. You wrong me more, sir, in denying 
+it; 
+Consider how it stands upon my credit. 
+Sec. Mer. Well, officer, arrest him at my 
+sult. 
+Og. I do; and charge you in the duke’s 
+name to obey me. 70 
+Ang. This touches me in reputation. 
+Either consent to pay this sum for me 
+Or I attach you by this officer. 
+Ant. E. Consent to pay thee that I never 
+had! 
+Arrest me, foolish fellow, if thou darest. 
+Ang. Here is thy fee; arrest him, officer, 
+I would not spare my brother in this case, 
+If he should scorn me so apparently. 
+Og. I do arrest you, sir: you hear the suit. 
+Ant. E. 1 dé obey thee till I give thee bail. 
+But, sirrah, you shall buy this sport as dear 81 
+As all the metal in your shop will answer. 
+Ang. Sir, sir, I shall have law in Ephesus, 
+To your notorious shame; I doubt it not. 
+
+
+Enter Dromio of Syracuse, from the bay. 
+
+
+Dro. S. Master, there is a bark of Epidam- 
+num 
+That stays but till her owner comes aboard 
+And then, sir, she bears away. Our fraught- 
+age, sir, 
+I have convey’d aboard and | have bought 
+The oil, the balsamum and aqua-vite. 
+The ship is in her trim: the merry wind 90 
+Blows fair from land: they stay for nought 
+at all 
+But for their owner, master, and yourself, 
+Ant. E. How now! a madman! Why, thou 
+peevish sheep. 
+What ship of Epidamnum stays for me? 
+Dro. S. A ship you sent me to, to hire 
+waftage. 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. I] 
+
+
+THE COMEDY OF ERRORS 
+
+
+125 
+
+
+Ant, E. Thou drunken slave, I sent thee for 
+a rope 
+And told thee to what purpose and what end. 
+Dro. S. You sent me for a rope’s end as 
+soon: 
+You sent me to the bay, sir, for a bark, 
+Ant. E. I will debate this matter at more 
+leisure 100 
+And teach your ears to list me with more heed. 
+To Adriana, villain, hie thee straight: 
+Give her this key, and tell her, in the desk 
+That's cover’d o'er with Turkish tapestry - . 
+There is a purse of ducats; let her send it: 
+Tell her I am arrested in the street 
+And that shall bail me: hie thee, slave, be 
+gone! 
+On, officer, to prison till it come. 
+[Exeunt Sec. Merchant, Angelo, 
+Officer, and Ant. E. 
+Dro. S. To Adriana! that is where we 
+dined, 
+
+
+Where Dowsabel did claim me for her hus-, 
+
+
+band: 
+She is too big, I hope, for me to compass. I 11 
+Thither I must, although against my will, 
+For servants must their masters’ minds fulfil. 
+
+
+[Exit, 
+
+
+The house of ANTIPHOLUS of 
+Ephesus. 
+
+
+Enter ApRIANA and LUCIANA. 
+Adr. Ah, Luciana, did he tempt thee so? 
+
+
+Mightst thou perceive austerely in his eye 
+That he did plead in earnest? yea or no? 
+
+Look’d he or red or pale, or sad or merrily ? 
+What observation madest thou in this case 
+Of his heart’s meteors tilting in his face? 
+
+Lue. First he denied you had in him no 
+
+
+Scene II. 
+
+
+right. 
+
+Adr. He meant he did me none; the more 
+my spite. 
+
+Luc. Then swore he that he was a stranger 
+here. 
+
+
+Adr. And true he swore, though yet for- 
+sworn he were. 10 
+
+
+Luc. Then pleaded I for you. 
+
+
+Adr. And what said he? 
+
+Luc. That love I begg’d for you he begg’d 
+of me. 
+
+Adr. With what persuasion did he tempt 
+thy love? 
+
+Luc. With words that in an honest suit 
+
+
+might move. 
+First he did praise my beauty, then my speech. 
+Adr. Didst speak him fair? 
+Luc. Have patience, I beseech. 
+Adr. | cannot, nor | will not, hold me still; 
+My tongue, though not my heart, shall have 
+his will. 
+
+
+He is deformed, crooked, old and sere, 
+Ill-faced, worse bodied, shapeless everywhere; 
+Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind, 
+Stigmatical in making, worse in mind, 
+Luc. Who would be jealous then of such a 
+one > 
+No evil lost is wail’d when ‘it is gone. 
+Adr. Ah, but I think him better than I say, 
+And yet would herein others’ eyes were 
+worse, 
+Far from her nest the lapwing cries away: 
+My heart prays for him, though my tongue 
+do curse. 
+
+
+Enter Dromio of Syracuse. 
+
+
+Dro, S. Here! go; the desk, the purse! 
+sweet, now, make haste. 
+Luc. How hast thou lost thy breath? 
+Dro. S. By running fast. 30 
+Adr, Where is thy master, Dromio? is he 
+well? 
+Dro. S. No. he’s in Tartar limbo, worse 
+than hell. 
+TA devil in an everlasting garment hath him: 
+One whose hard heart is button’d up with 
+steel; 
+A fiend, a fury, pitiless and rough; 
+A wolf, nay, worse, a fellow all in buff; 
+A back-friend, a shoulder-clapper, one that 
+countermands 
+The passages of alleys, creeks and narrow 
+lands; 
+A hound that runs counter and yet draws dry- 
+foot well; 
+One that before the judgement carries poor 
+souls to hell. 
+Adr. Why, man, what is the matter? 
+Dro. S. I do not know the matter: he ts 
+"rested on the case, 
+Adr. What, is he arrested? Tell me at 
+whose suit. 
+Dro. S. I know not at whose suit he is ar- 
+rested well; 
+But he’s in a suit of buff which ‘rested him, 
+that can I tell. 
+Will you send him, mistress, redemption, the 
+money in his desk? 
+Adr, Go fetch it, sister. [Exit Luciana.] 
+This I wonder at, 
+That he, unknown to mo, should be in debt, 
+Tell me, was he arrested on a band? 
+Dro. S. Not on a band, but on a stronger 
+thing; 50 
+A chain, a chain! Do you not hear it ring? 
+Adr. What, the chain? 
+Dro. S. No, no, the bell: ‘tis time that I 
+were gone: 
+It was two ere I left him, and now the clock 
+strikes one. 
+
+
+126 
+
+
+THE COMEDY OF ERRORS 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. Ill 
+
+
+Adr. The hours come back! that did I 
+
+
+never hear. 
+Dro, S. O, yes; if any hour meet a ser- 
+geant a’ turns back for very fear. 
+Adr. As if Time were in debt! how fondly 
+dost thou reason! 
+Dro. S. Time is a very bankrupt and owes 
+more than he’s worth to season. 
+Nay, he’s a thief too: have you not heard 
+men say, 
+That Time comes stealing on by night and 
+day? 
+If Time be in debt and theft, and a sergeant 
+in the way, 6l 
+Hath he not reason to turn back an hour in 
+a day? 
+Re-enter Luciana with a purse. 
+
+
+Adr, Go, Dromio; there’s the money, bear ' 
+
+
+it straight, 
+And bring thy master home immediately. 
+Come, sister: I am press’d down with conceit— 
+Conceit, my comfort and my injury.[Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene III. A public place. 
+Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse. 
+
+
+Ant. S. There’s not a man I meet but doth 
+salute me 
+As if I were their well-acquainted friend; 
+And every one doth call me by my name. 
+Some tender money to me; some invite me; 
+Some other give me thanks for kindnesses; 
+Some offer me commodities to buy: 
+Even now a tailor call’d me in his shop 
+And show'd me silks that he had bought for 
+me 
+And therewithal took measure of my body, 
+Sure, these are but imaginary wiles 10 
+And Lapland sorcerers inhabit here. 
+
+
+Enter Dromio of Syracuse. 
+
+
+Dre. S. Master, here’s the gold you sent me 
+for. What, have you got the picture of old 
+Adam _ new-apparelled ? 
+
+Ant. S. What gold is this? what Adam 
+
+dost thou mean? 
+
+Dro..S; Not that Adam that kept the Para- 
+dise, but that Adam that keeps the prison: he 
+that goes in the calf’s skin that was killed for 
+the Prodigal; he that came behind you, sir, 
+like an evil angel, and bid you forsake your 
+liberty. 20 
+
+Ant, S. 1 understand thee not. 
+
+Dro. S. No? why, ‘tis a plain case: he that 
+went, like a bass-viol, in a case of leather; the 
+man, sir, that, when gentlemen are tired, gives 
+them a sob and ‘rests them: he, sir, that takes 
+pity on decayed men and gives them suits of 
+durance; he that sets up his rest to do more ex- 
+ploits with his mace than a morris-pike. 
+
+
+Ant, S. What, thou meanest an officer? 
+
+Dro. S. Ay, sir, the sergeant of the band; 
+he that brings any man to answer it that breaks 
+his band; one that thinks a man always going 
+to bed and says, ‘God give you good rest!’ 
+
+Ant. S. Well, sir, there rest in your foolery. 
+Is there any ship puts forth to-night? may we 
+be gone? 
+
+Dro. S. Why, sir, I brought you word an 
+hour since that the bark Expedition put forth 
+to-night; and then were you hindered by the 
+sergeant, to tarry for the hoy Delay. Here 
+are the angels that you sent for to deliver you, 
+
+Ant. S. The fellow is distract, and so am I; 
+And here we wander in illusions: 
+
+Some blessed power deliver us from hence! 
+
+
+Enter a Courtezan. 
+
+
+Cour. Well met, well met, Master Anti- 
+pholus. 
+I see, sir, you have found the goldsmith now: 
+Is that the chain you promised me to-day? 
+
+Ant. S. Satan, avoid! I charge thee, tempt 
+
+me not. 
+
+Dro. S. Master, is this Mistress Satan? 
+
+Ant. S. It is the devil. 
+
+Dro. S. Nay, she is worse, she is the devil’s 
+dam; and here she comes in the habit of a 
+light wench: and thereof comes that the 
+wenches say ‘God damn me;" that’s as much 
+to say ‘God make me a light wench.’ It is 
+written, they appear to men like angels of 
+light: light is an effect of fire, and fire will 
+burn; ergo, light wenches will burn. Come 
+not near her. 
+
+Cour. Your man and you are marvellous 
+
+
+merry, sir. 
+Will you go with me? We'll mend our din- 
+ner here? 60 
+
+
+Dro. S. Master, if you do, expect spoon- 
+meat; or bespeak a long spoon. 
+Ant. S. Why, Dromio? 
+Dro. S. Marry, he must have a long spoon 
+that must eat with the devil. 
+Ant. S. Avoid then, fiend! what tell’st thou 
+me of supping? 
+Thou art, as you are all, a sorceress: 
+I conjure thee to leave me and be gone. 
+Cour. Give me the ring of mine you had 
+at dinner. 
+Or, for my diamond, the chain you promised, 
+And I'll be gone, sir, and not trouble you. 
+Dro. S. Some devils ask but the parings of 
+one’s nail, 
+A rush, a hair, a drop of blood, a pin, 
+A nut, a cherry-stone; 
+But she, more covetous, would have a chain, 
+Master, be wise; an if you give it her, 
+
+
+- Act IV, Sc. IV] 
+
+
+THE COMEDY OF ERRORS 
+
+
+127 
+
+
+The devil will shake her chain and fright us 
+with it, 
+Cour. I pray you, sir, my ring, or else the 
+chain: 
+{ hope you do not mean to cheat me so. 
+Ant. S. Avaunt, thou witch! Come, Dro- 
+mio, let us go. 80 
+Dro. S. ‘Fly pride,’ says the peacock: mis- 
+tress, that you know. 
+
+
+[Exeunt Ant. S. and Dro. S. 
+
+
+Cour. Now, out of doubt Antipholus is 
+
+
+mad, 
+Else would he never so demean himself. 
+A ring he hath of mine worth forty ducats, 
+And for the same he promised me a chain: 
+Both one and other he denies me now. 
+The reason that I gather he is mad, 
+Besides this present instance or his rage, 
+Is a mad tale he told to-day at dinner, 
+Of his own doors being shut against his en- 
+trance, 90 
+Belike his wife, acquainted with his fits, 
+On purpose shut the doors against his way. 
+My way is now to hie home to his house, 
+And tell his wife that, being lunatic, 
+He rush’d into my house and took perforce 
+My ring away. This course I fittest choose; 
+For forty ducats is too much to lose. [Exit. 
+
+
+Scene IV. A street. 
+Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus and the Officer. 
+
+
+Ant. E, Fear me not, man; I| will not 
+break away: 
+
+I'll give thee, ere I leave thee, so much money, 
+To warrant thee, as I am ‘rested for, 
+My wife is in a wayward mood to-day, 
+And will not lightly trust the messenger. 
+That I should be attach’d in Ephesus, 
+I tell you, ‘twill sound harshly in her ears. 
+
+
+Enter Dromio of Ephesus with a rope’s-end. 
+
+
+Here comes my man; | think he brings the 
+money. 
+}iow now, sir! have you that I sent you for? 
+Dro. E. Here's that, I warrant you, will 
+pay them all. 10 
+Ant. E, But where’s the money? 
+Dro. E. Why, sir, I gave the money for 
+the rope. 
+Ant. E. Five hundred ducats, villain, for 
+a rope? 
+Dro. E. 1'll serve you, sir, five hundred at 
+the rate, 
+Ant."E. To what end did I bid thee hie 
+thee home? 
+Dro. E. To a rope’s-end, sir; and to that 
+end am | returned. 
+Ant. E. And to that end, sir, I will wel- 
+
+
+come you, [Beating him. 
+
+
+Off. Good sir, be patient. 
+
+Dro. E. Nay, tis for me to be patient; I 
+am in adversity. 2| 
+
+Of. Good now, hold thy tongue. 
+
+Dro. E, Nay, rather persuade him to hold 
+his hands, 
+
+Ant. E. Thou whoreson, senseless villain! 
+
+Dro. E. 1 would I were senseless, sir, that 
+I might not feel your blows. 
+
+Ant. E. Thou art sensible in nothing but 
+blows, and so is an ass. 
+
+Dro. E. 1 am an ass, indeed; you may 
+prove it by my long ears. I have served him 
+from the hour of my nativity to this instant, 
+and have nothing at his hands for my service 
+but blows. When I am cold, he heats me 
+with beating; when I am warm, he cools me 
+with beating: i am waked with it when I 
+sleep; raised with it when [ sit; driven out 
+of doors with it when I go from home; wel- 
+comed home with it when I return: nay, I 
+bear it on my shoulders, as a beggar wont her 
+brat; and, I think, when he hath lamed me, I 
+shall beg with it from door to door. 
+
+Ant. E. Come, go along; my wife is com- 
+
+ing yonder. 
+
+
+Enter the 
+
+
+ApRIANA, LUCIANA, Courtezan, 
+
+
+and PINcH. 
+
+
+Dro. E. Mistress, ‘respice finem,’ respect 
+your end; or rather, {the prophecy like the 
+parrot, ‘beware the rope’s-end.” 
+
+Ant. E. Wilt thou still talk? [Beating him, 
+
+Cour. How say you now? is not your hus- 
+
+band mad? 
+
+Adr. His incivility confirms no less. 
+Good Doctor Pinch, you are a conjurer; 50 
+Establish him in his true sense again, 
+
+And I will please you what you will demand. 
+
+Luc. Alas, how fiery and how sharp he 
+
+looks! 
+
+Cour. Mark how he trembles in his ecstasy! 
+
+Pinch, Give me your hand and let me feel 
+
+your pulse. 
+
+
+Ant. E, There is my hand, and let it feel 
+
+
+your ear. [ Striking him. 
+Pinch. I charge thee, Satan, housed within 
+this man, 
+
+
+To yield possession to my holy prayers 
+And to thy state of darkness hie thee straight: 
+I conjure thee by all the saints in heaven! 60 
+Ant. E. Peace, doting wizard, peace! I am 
+not mad, 
+Adr. O, that thou wert not, poor distressed 
+soul! 
+Ant. E. You minion, you, are these your 
+customers ? 
+Did this companion with the saffron face 
+Revel and feast it at my house to-day, 
+
+
+128 - 
+
+
+THE COMEDY OF ERRORS 
+
+
+lAcr IV, S3, IV 
+
+
+Whilst upon me the guilty doors were shut 
+And I denied to enter in my house? 
+Adr. O husband, God doth know you 
+dined at home; 
+Where would you had remain’d until this time, 
+Free from these slanders and this open 
+shame! 
+Ant. E. Dined at home! Thou villain, 
+what sayest thou? 7) 
+Dro. E. Sir, sooth to say, you did not dine 
+at home. 
+Ant. E. Were not my doors lock’d up and 
+I shut out? 
+Dro, E. Perdie, your doors were lock’d and 
+you shut out. 
+Ant. E. And did not she herself revile me 
+there? 
+Dro. E. Sans fable, she herself reviled you 
+there. 
+Ant. E. Did not her kitchen-maid ’ rail, 
+taunt and scorn me? 
+Dro. E. Certes, she did; the kitchen-vestal 
+scorn’d you. 
+Ant. E. And did not I in rage depart from 
+
+
+thence > 
+Dro. E. In verity you did; my bones bear 
+witness, 80 
+
+
+That since have felt the vigour of his rage. 
+Adr, Is't good to soothe him in these con- 
+
+
+traries > 
+Pinch. Jt is no shame: the fellow finds his 
+vein 
+
+
+And yielding to him humours well his frenzy. 
+Ant. E. Thou hast suborn’d the goldsmith 
+to arrest me. 
+Adr. Alas, I sent you money to redeem 
+you, 
+By Dromio here, who came in haste for it. 
+Dro. E. Money by me! heart and good- 
+will you might; 
+But surely, master, not a rag of money. 
+Ant. E. Went’st not thou to her for a 
+purse of ducats? 90 
+Adr. He came to me and I deliver'd it. 
+Luc. And J am witness with her that she 
+did. 
+Dro. E. God and the rope-maker bear me 
+witness 
+That I was sent for nothing but a rope! 
+Pinch. Mistress, both man and master is 
+possess'd; i 
+T know it by their pale and deadly looks: 
+They must be bound and laid in some dark 
+room. 
+Ant. E. Say, wherefore didst thou lock 
+me forth to-day? 
+And why dost thou deny the bag vu? gold? 
+Adr. 1 did not, gentle husband, lock thee 
+forth. 100 
+
+
+Dro. E. And, gentle master, I received no 
+gold; 
+But I confess, sir, that we were lock’d out. 
+Adr, Dissembling villain, thou  speak’st 
+false in both. 
+Ant, Ee Dissembling harlot, thou art false 
+in al 
+And art confederate with a damned pack 
+To make a loathsome abject scorn of me: 
+But with these nails I'll pluck out these false 
+
+
+eyes 
+That would behold in me this shameful sport. 
+
+
+Enter three or your, and offer to bind him. 
+He strives. 
+
+
+Adr. O, bind him, bind him! let him not 
+come near me. : 
+Pinch. More company! The fiend is strong 
+within him. 110 
+Luc. Ay me, poor man, how pale and wan 
+he looks! 
+Ant. E. What, will you murder me? Thou 
+gaoler, thou, 
+I am thy prisoner: wilt thou suffer them 
+To make a rescue? 
+Of. Masters, let him go: 
+He : my prisoner, and you shall not have 
+im. 
+Pinch. Go bind this man, for he is frantic 
+too. [They offer to bind Dro. E. 
+Adr. What wilt thou do, thou peevish 
+officer ? 
+Hast thou delight to see a wretched man 
+Do outrage and displeasure to himself? 
+Of. He is my prisoner: if I let him go, 
+The debt he owes will be required of me. 
+Adr. 1 will discharge thee ere I go from 
+thee: 
+Bear me forthwith unto his creditor 
+And, knowing how the debt grows, I will 
+pay it. 
+Good master doctor, see him safe convey’d 
+Home to my house. O most unhappy day! 
+Ant, E, O most unhappy strumpet! 
+Dro. E. Master, I am here enter’d in bond 
+for you. 
+Ant. E. Out on thee, villain! wherefore 
+dost thou mad me? 
+Dro. E. Will you be bound for nothing? be 
+mad, good master: cry “The devil!” 131 
+Luc. God help, poor souls, how idly do 
+they talk! 
+Adr. Go bear him hence. Sister, go you 
+with me. [Exeunt all but Adriana, Luci- 
+ana, Officer and Courtezan.] 
+Say now, whose suit is he arrested at? 
+Off. One Angelo, a goldsmith: do you 
+know him? 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. 1] 
+
+
+THE COMEDY OF ERRORS 
+
+
+129 
+
+
+Adr. I know the man. 
+he owes? 
+
+Og. Two hundred ducats. 
+
+Adr. Say, how grows it due? 
+
+Of. Due for a chain your husband had of 
+
+
+him. 
+
+Adr. He did bespeak a chain for me, but 
+had it not. 
+
+Cour. When as your husband all in rage 
+to-day 140 
+
+
+Came to my house and took away my ring— 
+The ring I saw upon his finger now— 
+Straight after did I meet him with a chain. 
+
+Adr. It may be so, but I did never see it. 
+Come, gaoler, bring me where the goldsmith is: 
+I long to know th2 truth hereof at large. 
+
+
+Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse with his 
+rapier drawn, and Dromio of Syracuse. 
+
+
+Luc. God, for thy mercy! they are loose 
+again. 
+Adr. And come with naked swords. 
+Let's call more help to have them bound again. 
+Of. Away! they'll kill us. 150 
+[Exeunt all but Ant. S. and Dro. S. 
+Ant. S. I see these witches are afraid of 
+swords. 
+Dro. S. She that would be your wife now 
+ran from you. 
+Ani. S. Come to the Centaur; fetch our 
+stuff from thence: 
+I long that we were safe and sound aboard. 
+Dro. S. Faith, stay here this night; they 
+will surely do us no harm: you saw they 
+speak us fair, give us gold: methinks they 
+are such a gentle nation that, but for the 
+mountain of mad flesh that claims marriage 
+of me, I could find in my heart to stay here 
+‘still and turn witch. 160 
+Ant. S. I will not stay to-night for all the 
+town; 
+Therefore away, to get our stuff aboard. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT V. 
+
+
+Scene I. A street before a Priory. 
+Enter Second Merchant and ANGELO, 
+Ang. | am sorry, sir, that I have hinder’d 
+
+
+you; 
+But, I protest, he had the chain of me, 
+Though most dishonestly he doth deny it. 
+Sec. Mer. How is the man esteem’d here 
+in the city? 
+Ang. Of very reverend reputation, sir, 
+Of credit infinite, highly beloved, 
+Second to none that lives here in the city: 
+His word might bear my wealth at any time. 
+Sec. Mer. Speak softly: yonder, as I think, 
+he walks. 
+
+
+What is the sum} Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse and Dromio 
+
+
+of Syracuse. 
+Ang. ‘Tis so; and that self chain about 
+his neck 10 
+Which he forswore most monstrously to have. 
+Good sir, draw near to me, I "Il speak to him. 
+Signior Antipholus, I wonder much 
+That you would put me to this shame and 
+trouble; 
+And, not without some scandal to yourself, 
+With circumstance and oaths, so to deny 
+This chai which now you wear so openly: 
+Beside the charge, the shame, imprisonment, 
+You have done wrong to this my honest friend, 
+Who, but for staying on our controversy, 20 
+Had hoisted sail and put to sea to-day: 
+This chain you had of me; can you deny it? 
+Ant. S. | think I had; I never did deny it. 
+Sec. Mer. Yes, that you did, sir, and for- 
+swore it too. 
+Ant. S. Who heard me to deny it or for- 
+swear it? 
+Sec. Mer. These ears of mine, thou know’st, 
+did hear thee. 
+Fie on thee, wretch! "tis pity that thou livest 
+To walk where any honest men resort. 
+Ant. S. Thou art a villain to impeach me 
+thus: 
+{ "ll prove mine honour and mine honesty 30 
+Against thee presently, if thou darest stand. 
+Sec. Mer. I dare, and do defy thee for a 
+villain. [They draw. 
+
+
+Enter Apriana,, Luciana, the Courtezan, and 
+others. 
+
+
+Adr. Hold, hurt him not, for God’s sake! 
+he is mad. 
+Some get within him, take his sword away: 
+Bind Dromio too, and bear them to my house. 
+Dro. S. Run, master, run; for God's sake, 
+take a house! 
+This is some priory. In, or we are spoil'd! 
+
+
+[Exeunt Ant. S. and Dro. S. to the Priory, 
+Enter the Lady Abbess. 
+
+
+Abb. Be quiet, people. Wherefore throng 
+
+
+you hither? 
+Adr. To fetch my poor distracted husband 
+hence. 
+Let us.come in, that we may bind him fast 40 
+And bear him home for his recovery. 
+Ang. I knew he was not in his perfect wits. 
+
+
+Sec. Mer. I am sorry now that I did draw 
+on him. 
+
+Abb. How long hath this possession held 
+the man? 
+
+
+Aa, This week he hath been heavy, sour, 
+sad, 
+And much different from the man he was; 
+
+
+13u 
+
+
+But till this afternoon his passion 
+e’er brake into extremity of rage. 
+
+
+Abb. Hath he not lost much wealth by 
+
+
+wreck of sea? 
+Buried some dear friend? Hath not else his 
+eye 
+Stray'd his affection in unlawful love? 51 
+A sin prevailing much in youthful men, 
+Who give their eyes the liberty of gazing. 
+Which of these sorrows is he subject to? 
+Adr. To none of these, except it be the 
+last; 
+Namely, some love that drew him oft from 
+
+
+home. , 
+Abb. You should for that have reprehended 
+him. 
+Adr, Why, so I did. 
+Abb. Ay, but not rough enough. 
+Adr. As roughly as my modesty would iet 
+
+
+me. 
+Abb. Haply, in private. 
+Adr, And in assemblies too. 
+Abb, Ay, but not enough. 
+Adr. It was the copy of our conference: 
+In bed he slept not for my urging it; 
+At board he fed not for my urging it; 
+Alone, it was the subject of my theme; 
+In company I often glanced it; 
+Still did I tell him it was vile and bad. 
+Abb. And thereof came it that the man 
+was mad: 
+The venom clamours of a jealous woman 
+Poisons more deadly than a mad dog’s tooth. 
+It seems his sleeps were hinder'd by thy 
+railing, 
+And thereof comes it that his head is light. 
+Thou say’st his meat was sauced with thy up- 
+braidings: 
+Unquiet meals make ill digestions; 
+Thereof the raging fire of fever bred; 
+And what's a fever but a fit of madness? 
+Thou say’st his sports were hinder’d by thy 
+brawls: 
+Sweet recreation barr’d, what doth ensue 
+But moody and dull melancholy, 
+Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair, 
+And at her heels a huge infectious troop 
+Of pale distemperatures and foes to life? 
+In food, in sport and life's preserving rest 
+To be disturb’d, would mad or man ot beast: 
+The consequence is then thy jealous fits 
+Have scared thy husband from the use of wits. 
+Luc. She never reprehended him but mildly. 
+When he demean’d himself rough, rude and 
+wildly. 
+Why bear you these rebukes and answer not? 
+Adr, She did betray me to my own reproof. 
+Good people, enter and lay hold on him. 91 
+Abb, No, not a creature enters in my house. 
+
+
+80 
+
+
+THE COMEDY OF ERRORS 
+
+
+1Acr V, Sc. 1 
+
+
+Adr, Then let your servants bring my hus- 
+band forth. 
+
+
+Abb. Neither: he took this place for sanc- 
+
+
+tuary, 
+And it shall privilege him from your hands 
+Till I have brought him to his wits again, 
+Or lose my labour in assaying it. 
+Adr, I will attend my husband, be his 
+nurse, : 
+Diet his sickness, for it is my office, ~ 
+And will have no attorney but myself; 100 
+And therefore let me have him home with me- 
+Abb. Be patient; for I will not let him stir 
+Till I have used the approved means I have, 
+With wholesome syrups, drugs and_ holy 
+prayers, 
+To make of him a formal man again: 
+It is a branch and parcel of mine oath, 
+A charitable duty of my order. 
+Therefore depart and leave him here with me. 
+Adr. I will not hence and leave my hus- 
+band here: 
+And ill it doth beseem your holiness 110 
+To separate the husband and the wife. 
+Abb. Be quiet and depart: thou shalt not 
+have him. Exit. 
+Luc. Complain unto the duke of this in- 
+dignity. 
+Adr. Come, go: I will fall prostrate at his 
+feet 
+And never rise until my tears and prayers 
+
+
+Have won his grace to come in person hither’ 
+
+
+And take perforce my husband from the 
+abbess. 
+Sec. Mer. By this, I think, the dial points 
+at five: 
+Anon, I'm sure, the duke himself in person 
+Comes this way to the melancholy vale, 120 
+The place of death and sorry execution, 
+Behind the ditches of the abbey here. 
+Ang. Upon -vhat cause? 
+Sec. Mer. To see a reverend Syracusian 
+merchant, 
+Who put unluckily into this bay 
+Against the laws and statutes of this town, 
+Beheaded publicly for his offence. 
+Ang. See where they come: we will behold 
+his death. 
+Luc. Kneel to the duke before he pass the 
+abbey. 
+
+
+Enter DukE, atlended; AEGEON bareheaded; 
+with the Headsman and other Officers. 
+
+
+Duke. Yet once again proclaim it publicly, 
+If any friend will pay the sum for him 131 
+He shall not die; so much we tender him. 
+
+dr, Justice, most sacred duke, against the 
+
+
+abbess ! 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. I] 
+She is a virtuous and a reverend 
+
+
+It cannot be that she hath done thee wrong. 
+Adr. May it please your grace, Antipholus 
+
+my husband, 
+
+Whom I made lord of me and all I had, 
+
+At your important letters,—this ill day 
+
+A most outrageous fit.of madness took him; 
+
+That desperately he hurried through the 
+street,— 
+
+With him his bondman, all as mad as he,—I41 
+
+Doing displeasure to the citizens 
+
+By rushing in their houses, bearing thence 
+
+Rings, jewels, any thing his rage did like. 
+
+Once did I get him bound and sent him home, 
+
+Whilst to take order for the wrongs I went 
+
+That here and there his fury had committed. 
+
+Anon, I wot not by what strong escape, 
+
+He broke from those that had the guard of 
+him; 
+
+And with his mad attendant and himself, 150 
+
+_Each one with ireful passion, with drawn 
+swords, 
+
+Met us again and madly bent on us 
+
+Chased us away, till raising of more aid 
+
+We came again to bind them. Then they fled 
+
+Into this abbey, whither we pursued them; 
+
+And here the abbess shuts the gates on us 
+
+And will not suffer us to fetch him out, 
+
+Nor send him forth that we may bear him 
+
+
+hence. 
+Therefore, most gracious duke, with thy com- 
+mand j 
+Let him be brought forth and borne hence for 
+help. 160 
+Duke. Long since thy husband served me 
+
+
+in my wars, 
+And I to thee engaged a prince’s word, 
+When thou didst make him master of thy bed, 
+Yo do him all the grace and good I could. 
+C30, some of you, knock at the abbey-gate 
+And bid the lady abbess come to me. 
+I will determine this before I stir. 
+
+
+Enter a Servant. 
+
+
+Serv. O mistress, mistress, shift and save 
+yourself} 
+My master and his man are both broke loose, 
+~ Beaten the maids a-row and bound the doctor, 
+Whose beard they have singed off with brands 
+of fire; 171 
+And ever, as it blazed, they threw on him 
+Ret pails of puddled mire to quench the 
+air: 
+My master preaches patience to him and the 
+while 
+His man with scissors nicks him like a fool,. 
+And sure, unless you send some present help, 
+Between them they will kill the conjurer. 
+
+
+THE COMEDY OF ERRORS 
+
+
+13) 
+
+
+Adr. Peace, fool! thy master and his man 
+are here, 
+And that is false thou dost report tous. 179 
+Serv. Mistress, upon my life, I tell you 
+true; 
+I have not breathed almost since I did see it. 
+He cries for you and vows, if he can take you, 
+To scorch your face and to dishgure you. 
+
+
+[Cry within. 
+
+
+Hark, hark! I hear him, mistress: fly, be 
+gone! 
+Duke. Come, stand by me; fear nothing. 
+
+
+Guard and halberds! 
+Adr, Ay me, it is my husband! Witness 
+you, 
+That he is borne about invisible: 
+Even now we housed him in the abbey here; 
+And now he’s there, past thought of human 
+reason. 
+
+
+Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus and Dromio 
+of Ephesus. 
+
+
+Ant. E. Justice, most gracious duke, O, 
+grant me justice! 190 
+Even for the service that long since I did thee, 
+When I bestrid thee in the wars and took 
+Deep scars to save thy life; even for the blood 
+That then I lost for thee, now grant me justice. 
+Ege. Unless the fear of death doth make 
+me dote, 
+I see my son Antipholus and Dromio. 
+Ant. E, Justice, sweet prince, against that 
+woman there! 
+She whom thou gavest to me to be my wife, 
+That hath abused and dishonour’d me 
+Even in the strength and height of injury! 200 
+Beyond imagination is the wrong 
+That she this day hath shameless thrown on 
+
+
+me. 
+Duke. Discover how, and thou shalt find 
+me just, 
+Ant. E. This day, great duke, she shut the 
+doors upon me, 
+While she with harlots feasted in my house. 
+Duke. A grievous fault! Say, woman, didst 
+thou so? 
+Adr. No, my good lord: myself, he and 
+my sister 
+To-day did dine together. So befall my soul 
+As this is false he burdens me withal! 
+Luc. Ne’er may I look on day, nor sleep 
+on night, 210 
+But she tells to your highness simple truth! 
+Ang. O perjured woman! They are both 
+forsworn: 
+In this the madman justly chargeth them. 
+Ant. E. My liege, | am advised what I say, 
+Neither disturbed with the effect of wine, 
+Ner heady-rash, provoked with raging ire, 
+
+
+132 
+
+
+THE COMEDY OF ERRORS 
+
+
+[Act V, Se. 3 
+
+
+Albeit my wrongs might make one wiser mad. | From whence, I think, you are come by miracle. 
+
+
+This woman lock’d me out this day from 
+dinner: 
+That goldsmith there, were he not pack’d with 
+her, 
+Could witness it, for he was with me then; 220 
+Who parted with me to go fetch a chain, 
+Promising to bring it to the Porpentine, 
+Where Balthazar and I did dine together, 
+Our dinner done, and he not coming thither, 
+I went to seek him: in the street I meet him 
+And in his company that gentleman, 
+There did this perjured goldsmith swear me 
+down. 
+That I this day of him received the chain, 
+Which, God he knows, I saw not: for the 
+which 
+He did arrest me with an officer. 230 
+I did obey, and sent my peasant home 
+For certain ducats: he with none return’d. 
+Then fairly I bespoke the officer 
+To go in person with me to my house. 
+By the way we met 
+My wife, her sister, and a rabble more 
+Of vile confederates. Along with them 
+They brought one Pinch, a hungry lean-faced 
+villain, 
+A mere anatomy, a mountebank, 
+A threadbare juggler and a forutne-teller, 
+A needy, hollow-eyed, sharp-looking wretch, 
+A living-dead man: this pernicious slave, 241 
+Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer, 
+And, gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse, 
+And, with no face, as ‘twere, outfacing me, 
+Cries out, I was pogssess'd. Then all together 
+They fell upon me, bound me, bore me thence 
+And in a dark and dankish vault at home 
+There left me and my man, both bound to- 
+gether; 
+Till, gnawing with my teeth my bonds in 
+sunder, 
+I gain’d my freedom and immediately 250 
+Ran hither to your grace; whom I beseech 
+To give me ample satisfaction 
+For these deep shames and great indignities. 
+Ang. My lord, in truth, thus far I witness 
+with him, 
+That he dined not at home, but was lock’d out. 
+Duke. But had he such a chain of thee 
+or no? 
+Ang. He had, my lord: and when he ran in 
+here, 
+These people saw the chain about his neck. 
+Sec. Mer. Besides, I will be sworn these 
+ears of mine 
+Heard you confess you had the chain of him 
+After you first foreswore it on the mart: 26] 
+* And thereupon I drew my sword on you; 
+
+
+And then you fled into this abbey here, 
+
+
+Ant. E. | never came within these abbey- 
+walls, 
+Nor ever didst thou draw thy sword on me: 
+I never saw the chain, so help me Heaven! 
+And this is false you burden me withal. 
+Dae Why, what an intricate impeach is 
+this! 
+I think you all have drunk of Circe’s cup. 270 
+If here you housed him, here he would have 
+been; 
+If he were mad, he would not plead so coldly: 
+You say he dined at home; the goldsmith here 
+Denies that saying. Sirrah, what say you? 
+Dro. E. Sir, he dined with her there, at the 
+Porpentine, 
+Cour. He did, and from my finger snatch'd 
+that ring. 
+Ant.E. "Tis true, my liege; this ring I had 
+of her. 
+Duke. Saw’st thou him enter at the abbey 
+here ? . 
+Cour. As sure, my liege, as I do see your 
+grace. 
+Duke, Why, this is strange. Go call the 
+abbess hither. 280 
+I think you are all mated or stark mad. 
+[Exit one to the Abbess. 
+“Ege. Most mighty duke, vouchsafe me 
+speak a word: 
+Haply I see a friend will save my life 
+And pay the sum that may deliver me. 
+Duke. Speak freely, Syracusian, what thou 
+wilt. 
+Ege. Is not your name, sir, call’d Anti- 
+pholus? « 
+And is not that your bondman, Dromio? 
+Dro. E. Within this hour I was his bond: 
+man, sir, 
+But he, I thank him, gnaw’d in two my cords: 
+Now am I Dromio and his man unbound. 290 
+Ege, I am sure you both of you remember 
+me. 
+Dro. E. Ourselves we do remember, sir, by 
+you; 
+For lately we were bound, as you are now. 
+You are not Pinch’s patient, are you, sir? 
+Ege, Why look you strange on me? you 
+know me well. 
+Ant. E. I never saw you in my life till now. 
+“Ege. O, grief hath changed me since you 
+saw me last, 
+And careful hours with time’s deformed hand 
+Have written strange defeatures in my face: 
+But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice? 
+Ant. E. Neither. 301 
+Ege. Dromio, nor thou? 
+Dro. E. No, trust me, sir, nor I, 
+Ege. I am sure thou dost. 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. I] 
+
+
+Dro. E. Ay, sir, but I am sure I do not; 
+and whatsoever a man denies, you are now 
+bound to believe him. 
+
+AZge. Not know my voice! O time's ex- 
+
+tremity, 
+Hast thou so crack’d and splitted my poor 
+tongue 
+In seven short years, that here my only son 
+Knows not my feeble key of untuned cares? 
+Though now this grained face of mine be hid 
+In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow 
+And all the conduits of my blood froze up, | 
+Yet hath my night of life some memory, 
+My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left, 
+My dull deaf ears a little use to hear: 
+All these old witnesses—{ cannot err— 
+Have I been patron to Antipholus, 
+Ant. E. I never saw my father in my life. 
+“Ege. But seven years since, in Syracuse, 
+
+
+boy, 320 
+Thou know’st we parted: but perhaps, my 
+son, 
+
+
+Thou shamest to acknowledge me in misery- 
+Ant. E. The duke and all that know me in 
+the city 
+Can witness with me that it is not so: 
+I ne’er saw Syracusa in my life. 
+Duke. | tell thee, Syracusian, twenty years 
+Have I been patron to Antipholus, 
+During which time he ne’er saw Syracusa: 
+
+I see thy age and dangers make thee dote. 
+Re-enter Abbess, wilh ANTIPHOLUS of Syra- 
+cuse and Dromio of Syracuse. 
+
+Abb. Most mighty duke, behold a man 
+much wrong’d. [All gather to see them. 
+Adr. | see two husbands, or mine eyes de- 
+
+
+ceive me. ! 331 
+Duke. One of these men is Genius to the 
+other; 
+
+
+And so of these. Which is the natural man, 
+And which the spirit? who deciphers them? 
+Dro. S. 1, sir, am Dromio: command him 
+
+
+away. 
+
+Dro. E. 1, sir, am Dromio: pray, let me 
+stay. 
+
+Ant. S. /Egeon art thou not? or else his 
+ghost ? 
+
+Dro. S. O, my old master! who hath bound 
+him here? 
+
+
+Abb. Whoever bound him, I will loose his 
+bonds 
+
+And gain a husband by his liberty. 340 
+Speak, old AE geon, if thou be’st the man 
+That shadst a wife once call’d AEmilia 
+That bore thee at a burden two fair sons: 
+O, if thou be’st the same /Egeon, speak, 
+And speak unto the same /Emilia! 
+
+fege. If I dream not, thou art AEmilia: 
+
+
+If thou art she, tell me where is that sor 
+
+
+THE COMEDY OF ERRORS 
+
+
+4 te: 
+133 
+
+
+That floated with thee on the fatal raft? 
+Abb. By men of Epidamnum he and | 
+And the twin Dromio all were taken up; 350 
+But by and by rude fishermen of Corinth 
+By force took Dromio and my son from them 
+And me they left with those of Epidamnum, 
+What then became of them I cannot tell; 
+I to this fortune that you see me in. 
+Duke. Why, here begins his morning story 
+right: 
+These two Antipholuses, these two so like, 
+And these two Dromios, one in semblance,— 
+Besides her urging of her wreck at sea,— 
+These are the parents to these children, 360 
+Which accidentally are met together, 
+Antipholus, thou camest from Corinth first? 
+Ant. S, No, sir, not I; I came from Syra- 
+cuse. 
+
+
+Duke. Stay, stand apart; I know not which 
+is which. 
+Ant. E. 1 came from Corinth, my most 
+
+
+gracious lord,— 
+Dro. E. And I with him. 
+Ant. E. Brought to this town by that 
+most famous warrior, 
+Duke Menaphon, your most renowned uncle. 
+Adr. Which of you two did dine with me 
+to-day ? 
+Ant. S. I, gentle mistress. 
+Adr, And are not you my husband? 
+Ant. E. No; I say nay to that. 371 
+Ant. S. And so do I; yet did she call 
+me so: 
+And this fair gentlewoman, her sister here, 
+Did call me brother. [To Luc.] What I told 
+you then, 
+I hope I shall have leisure to make good; 
+If this be not a dream I see and hear. 
+Ang. That is the chain, sir, which you had 
+of me. 
+Ant. S. I think it be, sir; I deny it not. 
+Ant. E, And you, sir, for this chain arrest- 
+ed me. 
+Ang. I think I did, sir; I deny it not. 380 
+Adr. I sent you money, sir, to be your bail, 
+By Dromio; but I think he brought it not. 
+Dro. E. No, none by me. 
+Ant. S. This purse of ducats I received 
+from you 
+And Dromio my man did bring them me. 
+I see we still did meet each other’s man, 
+And I was ta’en for him, and he for me, 
+And thereupon these ERRORS are arose. 
+Ani. E, These ducats pawn I for my father 
+here. : 
+Duke. {i shall not need; thy father hath his 
+life. 390 
+Cour. Sir, I must have that diamond from 
+you. 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+134 © 
+
+
+THE COMEDY OF ERRORS 
+
+
+ey OO 
+
+
+Sf 
+
+
+Ant. E, There, take it; and much thanks 
+for my good cheer. 
+Abb. Renowned duke, vouchsafe to take 
+the pains 
+To go with us into the abbey here 
+And hear at large discoursed all our fortunes: 
+And all that are assembled in this place, 
+That by this sympathized one day’s error 
+Have suffer'd wrong, go keep us company, 
+And we shall make full satisfaction. 399 
+Thirty-three years have I but gone in travail 
+OF you, my sons; and till this present hour 
+My heavy burthen ne'er delivered. 
+The duke, my husband and my children 
+both, 
+And you the calendars of their nativity, 
+Go to a gossips’ feast, and go with me; 
+After so long grief, such festivity ! 
+Duke. With all my heart I ‘Il gossip at this 
+feast. [Exeunt all but Ant. S., Ant. E., 
+Dro. S., and Dro. E. 
+Dro. S. Master, shall I fetch your stuff from 
+shipboard > 
+Ant. E. Dromio, what stuff of mine hast 
+thou embark'd? 
+
+
+Dro. S, Your goods that lay at host, sir, in 
+the Centaur. 410 
+Ant. S. He speaks to me. I am your master, 
+Dromio: 
+Come, go with us; we'll look to that anon: 
+Embrace thy brother there; rejoice with him. 
+[Exeunt Ani. S. and Ant. E, 
+Dre, S. There is a fat friend at your mas- 
+ter’s house, 
+That kitchen’d me for you to-day at dinner: 
+She now shall be my sister, not my wife. 
+Dro. E. Methinks you are my glass, and not 
+my brother: 
+I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth. 
+Will you walk in to see their gossiping > 
+
+
+Dro. S. Not I, sir; you are my elder. 420 
+
+
+Dro. E. That's a question: how shall we 
+try it? 
+Dro. S. We'll draw cuts for the senior: tll 
+then lead thou first, 
+Dro. E. Nay, then, thus: 
+We came into the world like brother and 
+brother; 
+And now let's go hand in hand, not one before 
+another. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+[Act V, Se, I 
+
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSON/E 
+
+
+Don Pepro, prince of Arragon. 
+Don Jonn, his bastard brother. 
+CLAuDIO, a young lord of Flerence. 
+BENEDICK, a young lord of Padua. 
+LEonaTo, governor of Messina. 
+ANTONIO, his brother. 
+
+BattuHasar, attendant on Don Pedro. 
+aoe t followers of Don John. 
+Friar FRaNcIs. 
+
+DocBeErrY, a constable. 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+
+
+Scene I. Before Leonato’s house. 
+
+
+Enter Leonato, Hero, and Beatrice, with 
+a Messenger. 
+
+
+Leon. I learn in this letter that Don Peter 
+of Arragon comes this night to Messina. 
+
+Mess. He is very near by this: he was not 
+three leagues off when 1 left him. 
+
+Leon. How many gentlemen have you lost 
+in this action? 
+
+Mess. But few of any sort, and none of name. 
+
+Leon. A victory is twice itself when the 
+achiever brings home full numbers. I find here 
+that Don Peter hath bestowed much honour 
+on a young Florentine called Claudio. 11 
+
+Mess. Much deserved on his part and equally 
+remembered by Don Pedro; he hath borne 
+himself beyond the promise of his age, doing, 
+in the figure of a lamb, the feats of a lion: he 
+hath indeed better bettered expectation than 
+you must expect of me to tell you how. 
+
+Leon. He hath an uncle here in Messina 
+will be very much glad of it. 19 
+
+Mess. | have already delivered him letters, 
+_and there appears much joy in him; even so 
+much that joy could not show itself modest 
+enough without a badge of bitterness. 
+
+Leon. Did he break out into tears? 
+
+Mess. In great measure. 
+
+Leons.A kind overflow of kindness: there 
+are no faces truer than those that are so 
+washed. How much better is it to weep at joy 
+than to joy at weeping! 
+
+Beat. I pray you, is Signior Mountanto re- 
+turned from the wars or no? 3] 
+
+
+, 
+
+
+VERGES, a headborough. 
+
+A Sexton. 
+
+A Boy. 
+
+Hero, daughter to Leonato. 
+
+BEATRICE, niece to Leonato. 
+
+Marcak eT, t gentlewomen attending on 
+UrRsuLa, Hero. 
+
+Messengers, Watch, Attendants, &c. 
+
+
+ScENE: Messina. 
+
+
+Mess. I know none of that name, lady: 
+there was none such in the army of any sort. 
+
+Leon. What is he that you ask for, niece? 
+
+Hero. My cousin means Signior Benedick 
+of Padua. 
+
+Mess. O, he’s returned; and as pleasant as 
+ever he was, - 
+
+Beat. He set up his bills here in Messina 
+and challenged Cupid at the flight; and my 
+vacle’s fool, reading the challenge, subscribed 
+for Cupid, and challenged him at the bird-bol. 
+I pray you, how many hath he killed and eaten 
+in these wars? But how many-hath he killed ? 
+for indeed I promised to eat all of nis killing. 
+
+Leon. Faith, niece, you tax Signior Ben- 
+edick too much; but he'll be meet with you, 
+I doubt it not. 
+
+Mess. He hath done good service, lady, in 
+these wars. 49 
+
+Beat. You had musty victual, and he hath 
+holp to eat it: he is a very valiant trencher- 
+man; he hath an excellent stomach. 
+
+Mess. And a good soldier too, lady. 
+
+Beat. And a good soldier to a lady: but 
+what is he to a lord? 
+
+Mess. A lord to a lord, a man to a man; 
+stuffed with all honourable virtues. 
+
+Beat. It is so, indeed; he is no less than a 
+stuffed man: but for the stufing,—well, we 
+are all mortal. 60 
+
+Leon. You must not, sir, mistake my niece. 
+There is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior 
+Benedick and her: they never meet but there's 
+a skirmish of wit between them. 
+
+Beat. Alas! he gets nothing by that. In our 
+last conflict four of his five wits went halting 
+off, and now is the whole man governed with 
+
+
+135 
+
+
+136 
+
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+= 
+¢ 
+
+
+[Acr I, Scvk 
+
+
+one: so that if he have wit enough to keep 
+himself warm, let him bear it for a difference 
+between himself and his horse; for it is all the 
+wealth that he hath left, to be known a rea- 
+sonable creature. Who is his companion now ? 
+He hath every month a new sworn brother. 
+
+Mess. Is't possible? 
+
+Beat. Very easily possible: he wears his 
+faith but as the fashion of his hat; it ever 
+changes with the next block. 
+
+Mess. | see, lady, the gentleman is not in 
+your books. 79 
+
+Beat. No; an he were, I would burn my 
+study. But, I pray you, who is his companion ? 
+Is there no young squarer now that will make 
+a voyage with him to the devil? 
+
+Mess. He is most in the company of the 
+right noble Claudio. 
+
+Beat. O Lord, he will hang upon him like 
+a disease: he is sconer caught than the pes- 
+tilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God 
+help the noble Claudio! if he have caught the 
+Benedick, it will cost him a thousand pound 
+ere a’ be cured. 90 
+
+Mess. { will hold friends with you, lady. 
+
+Beat. Do, good friend. 
+
+Leon. You will never run mad, niece. 
+
+Beat. No, not till a hot January. 
+
+Mess. Don Pedro is approached. 
+
+
+Enter Don Pepro, Don JouHn, CLaunio, 
+BENEDICK, and BALTHASAR. 
+
+
+D. Pedro. Good Signior Leonato, you are 
+come to meet your trouble: the fashion of the 
+world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it. 
+
+Leon. Never came trouble to my house in 
+the likeness of your grace: for trouble being 
+gone, comfort should remain; but when you 
+depart from me, sorrow abides and happiness 
+iakes his leave. 
+
+D. Pedro. You embrace your charge too 
+willingly. I think this is your daughter. 
+
+Leon. Her mother hath many times told 
+me so. 
+
+Bene. Were you in doubt, sir, that you 
+asked her ? 
+
+Leon. Signior Benedick, no; for then were 
+you a child. 109 
+
+D. Pedro. You have it full, Benedick: we 
+may guess by this what you are, being a man. 
+Truly, the lady fathers herself, Be happy, 
+lady; for you are like an honourable father. 
+
+Bene. If Signior Leonato be her father, 
+she would not have his head on her shoulders 
+for all Messina, as like him as she is. 
+
+Beat. I wonder that you will still be talk- 
+ing, Signior Benedick: nobody marks you. 
+
+Bene. What, my dear Lady Disdain! are 
+you yet living? 120 
+
+
+Beat. Is it possible disdain should die 
+while she hath such meet food to feed it as 
+Signior Benedick? Courtesy itself must con- 
+vert to disdain, if you come in her presence. 
+
+Bene. Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it 
+is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you 
+excepted: and I would I could find in my 
+heart that I had not a hard heart; for, truly, 
+I love none. 
+
+Beat. A dear happiness to women: they 
+would else have been troubled with a pernicious 
+suitor. I thank God and my cold blood, I am 
+of your humour for that: I had rather hear my 
+dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves 
+
+
+me. 
+Bene. God keep your ladyship still in that 
+
+
+mind! so some gentleman or other shall "scape 
+a predestinate scratched face. 
+
+Beat. Scratching could not make it worse, 
+an ‘twere such a face as yours were, 
+
+Bene. Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher. 
+
+Beat. A bird of my tongue is better than a 
+beast of yours. 141 
+
+Bene. 1 would my horse had the speed of 
+your tongue, and so good a continuer. But 
+keep your way, i’ God's name; I have done, 
+
+Beat. You always end with a jade’s trick: 
+I know you of old. 
+
+D. Pedro. That is the sum of all, Leonato, 
+Signior Claudio and Signior Benedick, my 
+dear friend Leonato hath invited you all. I 
+tell him we shall stay here at the least a 
+month; and he heartily prays some occasion 
+may detain us longer. I dare swear he is no 
+hypocrite, but prays from his heart. 
+
+Leon. If you swear, my lord, you shall not 
+be forsworn. [To Don John] Let me bid you 
+welcome, my lord: being reconciled to the 
+prince your brother, I owe you all duty. 
+
+D. John. I thank you: I am not of many 
+words, but I thank you. 
+
+Leon. Please it your grace lead on? 160 
+
+D. Pedro. Your hand, Leonato; we will go 
+together. 
+
+[Exeunt all except Benedick and Claudio. 
+
+Claud. Benedick, didst thou note the 
+daughter of Signior Leonato? 
+
+Bene. I noted her not; but I looked on her. 
+
+Claud, Is she not a modest young lady > 
+
+Bene. Do you question me, as an honest 
+man should do, for my simple true judgement; 
+or would you have me speak after my custom, 
+as being a professed tyrant to their sex? 170 
+
+Claud. No; I pray thee speak in sober 
+judgement. 
+
+Bene. Why, i’ faith, methinks she’s too low 
+for a high praise, too brown for a fair pratse 
+and too little for a great praise: only this com- 
+
+
+mendation I can afford her, that were she 
+
+
+Acr-T Send} 
+
+
+other than she is, she were unhandsome; and 
+being no other but as she is, I do not like her. 
+Claud; Thou thinkest I am in sport: I pray 
+thee tell me truly how thou likest her. 180 
+Bene. Would you buy her, that you inquire 
+after her? 
+Claud. Can the world buy such a jewel? 
+Bene. Yea, and a case to put it into. But 
+speak you this with a sad brow? or do you 
+play the flouting Jack, to tell us Cupid is a 
+good hare-finder and Vulcan a rare carpenter ? 
+
+
+Come, in what key shall a man take you, ‘to 
+
+
+go in the song? 
+
+Claud. In mine eye she is the sweetest lady 
+that ever I looked on. 190 
+
+Bene. I can see yet without spectacles and 
+I see no such matter: there’s her cousin, an 
+she were not possessed with a fury, exceeds 
+her as much in beauty as the first of May doth 
+the last of December. But I hope you have 
+no intent to turn husband, have you? 
+
+Claud. 1 would scarce trust myself, though 
+I had sworn the contrary, if Hero would be 
+my wife. 
+
+Bene. Is’t come to this? In faith, hath not 
+the world one man but he will wear his cap 
+with suspicion? Shall I never see a bachelor 
+of threescore again? Go to, i’ faith; an thou 
+wilt needs thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear 
+the print of it and sigh away Sundays. Look; 
+Don Pedro is returned to seek you. 
+
+
+~ Re-enter Don PEpro. 
+D. Pedro. What secret hath held you here, 
+
+
+that you followed not to Leonato’s? 
+
+Bene. I would your grace would constrain 
+me to tell. 
+
+.D. Pedro. 1 charge thee on thy allegiance. 
+
+Bene. You hear, Count Claudio: I can be 
+secret as a dumb man; | would have you think 
+s0; but, on my allegiance, mark you this, on 
+my allegiance. He is in love. With who? now 
+that is your grace’s part. Mark how short his an- 
+swer is; — With Hero, Leonato’s short daughter, 
+
+Claud. If this were so, so were it uttered. 
+
+Bene. Like the old tale, my lord: ‘it is not 
+so, nor ‘twas not so, but, indeed, God forbid 
+it should be so. 220 
+
+Claud. If my passion change not shortly, 
+God forbid it should be otherwise. 
+
+D. Pedro. Amen, if you love her; for the 
+lady is very well worthy. 
+Claud. You speak this to fetch me in, my 
+ord. 
+
+D. Pedro. By my troth, I speak my thought. 
+
+Claud. And, in faith, my lord, I spoke mine. 
+
+Bene. And, by my two faiths and troths, 
+ry lord, I spoke mine. 
+
+Claud. That I love her, I feel. 230 
+
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+137 
+
+
+D. Pedro. That she is worthy, I know. 
+
+Bene. That I neither feel how she should 
+be loved nor know how she should be worthy, 
+is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of sme: 
+I will die in it at the stake, 
+
+D. Pedro. Thou wast ever an obstinate 
+heretic in the despite of beauty. 
+
+Claud. And never could maintain his part 
+but in the force of his will. 
+
+Bene. That a woman conceived me, I thank 
+her; that she brought me up, I likewise give 
+her most humble thanks: but that I will have 
+a recheat winded in my forehead, or hang my 
+bugle in an invisible baldrick, all women shall 
+pardon me. Because I will not do them the 
+wrong to mistrust any, I will do myself the 
+right to trust none; and the fine is, for the 
+which I may go the finer, I will live a bachelor. 
+
+
+D. Pedro. I shall see thee, ere I die. look 
+pale with love. 250 
+Bene. With anger, with sickness, or with 
+
+
+hunger, my lord, not with love: prove that ever 
+I lose more blood with love than | will get 
+again with drinking, pick out mine eye with a 
+ballad-maker’s pen and hang me up at the door 
+of a brothel-house for the sign of blind Cupid. 
+
+D. Pedro. Well, if ever thou dost fall from 
+this faith, thou wilt prove a notable argument. 
+
+Bene. If I do, hang me ina bottle like a cat 
+and shoot at me; and he that hits me, let him 
+be clapped on the shoulder, and called Adam. 
+
+D. Pedro. Well, as time shall try: 
+
+‘In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke.’ 
+
+Bene. The savage bull may; but if ever the 
+sensible Benedick bear it, pluck off the bull's 
+horns and set them in my forehead: and let 
+me be vilely painted, and in such great letters 
+as they write ‘Here is a good horse to hire,’ let 
+them signify under my sign “Here you may see 
+Benedick the married man.” 270 
+
+Claud. If this should ever happen, thou 
+wouldst be horn-mad. 
+
+D. Pedro. Nay, if Cupid have not spent all 
+his quiver in Venice, thou wilt quake for this 
+shortly. 
+
+Bene. | look for an earthquake too, then. 
+
+D. Pedro. Well, you will temporize with 
+the hours. In the meantime, good Signior Ben- 
+edick, repair to Leonato’s: commend me to him 
+and tell him I will not fail him at supper; for 
+indeed he hath made great preparation. 280 
+
+Bene. | have almost matter enough in me 
+for such an embassage; and so I commit you— 
+
+Claud. To the tuition of God: From my 
+house, if I had it,— 
+
+D. Pedro. The sixth of July: Your loving 
+friend, Benedick. 
+
+Bene. Nay, mock not, mock not. The body 
+of your discourse is sometime guarded with 
+
+
+(38 
+
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+Aig 
+Ie 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. {1 
+
+
+oo or SS EE 
+
+
+fragments, and the guards are but slightly 
+basted on neither: ere you flout old ends any 
+further, examine your conscience: and so | 
+leave you. [Exit. 291 
+Claud. My liege, your highness now may 
+do me good. 
+D. Pedro. My love is thine to teach: teach 
+it but how, 
+And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn 
+Any hard lesson that may do thee good. 
+Claud. Hath Leonato any son, my lord? 
+D.Pedro. No child but Hero; she’s his 
+
+
+only heir. 
+Dost thou affect her, Claudio? 
+Claud. O, my lord, 
+
+
+When you went onward on this ended action, 
+I look’d upon her with a soldier's eye, 300 
+That liked, but had a rougher task in hand 
+Than to drive liking to the name of love: 
+But now I am return'd and that war-thoughts 
+Have left their places vacant, in their rooms 
+Come thronging soft and delicate desires, 
+All prompting me how fair young Hero is, 
+Saying, I liked her ere I went to wars. 
+D. Pedro. Thou wilt be like a lover presently 
+And tire the hearer with a book of words. 
+If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it, 310 
+And | will break with her and with her father 
+And thou shalt have her. Was't not to this end 
+That thou began’st to twist so fine a story? 
+Claud. How sweetly you do minister to 
+love, 
+That know love's grief by his complexion! 
+But lest my liking might too sudden seem, 
+I would have salved it with a longer treatise. 
+D. Pedro. What need the bridge much 
+broader than the flood? 
+The fairest grant is the necessity. 
+Look, what will serve is fit; ‘tis once, thou 
+lovest, 320 
+And I will fit thee with the remedy. 
+I know we shall have revelling to-night: 
+I will assume thy part in some disguise 
+And tell fair Hero I am Claudio, 
+And in her bosom Ill unclasp my heart 
+And take her hearing prisoner with the force 
+And strong encounter of my amorous tale; 
+Then after to her father will I break; 
+And the conclusion is, she shall be thine. 329 
+
+
+In practice let us put it presently. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. A room in Leonato’s house, 
+Enter LEoNaTO and ANTONIO, meeting. 
+
+
+Leon. How now, brother! Where is my 
+cousin, your son? hath he provided this music > 
+
+Ant. He is very busy about it. But, brother, 
+I can tell you strange news that you yet dreamt 
+not of, 
+
+Leon, Are they good? 
+
+
+Se 
+
+
+Ant. As the event stamps them: but they 
+have a good cover; they show well outward, 
+The prince and Count Claudio, walking in a 
+thick-pleached alley in mine orchard, were thus 
+much overheard by a man of mine: the prince 
+discovered to Claudio that he loved my niece 
+your daughter and meant to acknowledge it 
+this night in a dance; and if he found her 
+accordant, he meant to take the present time 
+by the top and instantly break with you of it. 
+
+Leon. Hath the fellow any wit that told 
+you this? 
+
+Ant. A good sharp fellow: I will send for 
+him; and question him yourself, 20 
+
+Leon. No, no; we will hold it as a dream 
+till it appear itself; but I will acquaint my 
+daughter withal, that she may be the better 
+prepared for an answer, if peradventure this 
+be true. Go you and tell her of it. [Enter at- 
+tendants.] Cousins, you know what you have 
+to do. O, I cry you mercy, friend; go you 
+with me, and I will use your skill. Good 
+cousin, have a care this busy time. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. The same, 
+Enter Don JoHN and ConrabE. 
+
+
+Con. What the good-year, my lord! why 
+are you thus out of measure sad? 
+D. John, There is no measure in the occa- 
+
+
+sion that breeds; therefore the sadness is with- 
+
+
+out limit. 
+
+Con. You should hear reason. 
+
+D. John.. And when I have heard it, what 
+blessing brings it? 
+
+Con. If not a present remedy, at least a 
+patient sufferance. 10 
+
+D. John. 1 wonder that thou, being, as thou 
+sayest thou art, born under Saturn, goest about 
+to apply a moral medicine to a mortifying mis- 
+chief. I cannot hide what I am: I must be sad 
+when I have cause and smile at no man’s jests, 
+eat when I have stomach and wait for no 
+man’s leisure, sleep when I am drowsy and 
+tend on no man’s business, laugh when I am 
+merry and claw no man in his humour. 19 
+
+Con. Yea, but you must not make the full 
+show of this till you may do it without con- 
+trolment. You have of late stood out against 
+your brother, and he hath ta’en you newly into 
+his grace; where it is impossible you should 
+take true root but by the fair weather that you 
+make yourself: it is needful that you frame 
+the season for your own harvest. 
+
+D. John. I had rather be a canker in a 
+hedge than a rose in his grace, and it better fits 
+my blood to be disdained of all than to fash- 
+ton a carriage to rob love from any: in this, 
+though I cannot be said to be a flattering 
+honest man, it must not be denied but I am-a 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+Act Il, Sc. I] 
+
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+139 
+
+
+plain-dealing villain. I am trusted with a 
+muzzle and enfranchised with a clog; there- 
+fore I have decreed not to sing in my cage. 
+If I had my mouth, I would bite; if I had my 
+liberty, I would do my liking: in the meantime 
+let me be that I am and seek not to alter me. 
+Con. Can you make no use of your dis- 
+content? 
+D. John. 1 make all use of it, for I use it 
+only. . 
+Who comes here? 
+Enter Boracuio. 
+
+
+What news, Borachio? 
+
+Bora. I came yonder from a great supper: 
+the prince your brother is royally entertained 
+by Leonato; and I can give you intelligence 
+of an intended marriage. 
+
+D. John. Will it serve for any model to 
+build mischief on? What is he for a fool that 
+betroths himself to unquietness > 50 
+
+Bora. Marry, it is your brother's right hand. 
+
+
+~~ D. John. Who? the most exquisite Claudio? 
+
+
+Bora. Even he. 
+
+D. John. A proper squire! And who, and 
+who? which way looks he? 
+
+Bora. Marry, on Hero, the daughter and 
+heir of Leonato. 
+
+D. John. A very forward March-chick! 
+How came you to this? 
+
+Bora. Being entertained for a perfumer, as 
+I was smoking a musty room, comes me the 
+prince and Claudio, hand in hand, in sad con- 
+ference: I whipt me behind the arras; and 
+there heard it agreed upon that the prince 
+should woo Hero for himself, and having ob- 
+tained her, give her to Count Claudio. 
+
+D. John. Come, come, let us thither; this 
+may prove food to my displeasure. That young 
+start-up hath all the glory of my overthrow: if 
+I can cross him any way, I bless myself every 
+way. You are both sure, and will assist me? 
+
+Con. To the death, my lord. 
+
+D. John. Let us to the great supper: their 
+cheer is the greater that I am subdued. Would 
+the cook were of my mind! Shall we go 
+prove what's to be done? 
+
+Bora. We'll wait upon your lordship. 
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+AGT Il: 
+Scene I, 4 hall in Leonato’s house. 
+Enter Leonato, ANTon10, HERO, BEATRICE, 
+and others. 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+Leon, Was not Count John here at supper ? 
+
+
+Ant. I saw him not. 
+
+Beat. How tartly that gentleman looks! | 
+never can see him but I am heart-burned an 
+hour after. ; 
+
+
+Hero, He is of a very melancholy disposition. 
+Beat. He were an excellent man that were 
+made just in the midway between him and 
+Benedick: the one is too like an image and 
+says nothing, and the other too like my lady's 
+eldest son, evermore tattling. II 
+Leon. Then half Signior Benedick’s tongue 
+in Count John’s mouth, and half Count John’s 
+melancholy in Signior Benedick’s face,— 
+Beat. With a good leg and a good foot, 
+uncle, and money enough in his purse, such a 
+
+
+.|man would win any woman in the world, if 
+
+
+a’ could get her good-will. 
+
+Leon. By my troth, niece, thou wilt never 
+get thee a husband, if thou be so shrewd of 
+thy tongue. 21 
+
+Ant. In faith, she’s too curst. 
+
+Beat. Too curst is more than curst: | shall 
+lessen God's sending that way; for it is said, 
+“God sends a curst cow short horns;’ but to a 
+cow too curst he sends none. 
+
+Leon. So, by being too curst, God will send 
+you no horns. 
+
+Beat. Just, if he send me no husband; for 
+the which blessing I am at him upon my knees 
+every morning and evening. Lord, I could not 
+endure a husband with a beard on his face: I 
+had rather lie in the woollen. 
+
+Leon. You may light on a husband that 
+hath no beard. 
+
+Beat. What should I do with him? dress 
+him in my apparel and make him my waiting- 
+gentlewoman? He that hath a beard is more 
+than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less 
+than a man: and he that is more than a youth 
+is not for me, and he that is less than a man, 
+I am not for him: therefore I will even take 
+sixpence in earnest of the bear-ward, and lead 
+his apes into hell. 
+
+Leon. Well, then, go you into hell? 
+
+Beat. No, but to the gate; and there will 
+the devil meet me, like an old cuckold, with 
+horns on his head, and say “Get you to heaven, 
+Beatrice, get you to heaven; here’s no place 
+for you maids:’ so deliver ] up my apes, and 
+away to Saint Peter for the heavens; he shows 
+me where the bachelors sit, and there live we 
+as merry as the day is long. 
+
+Ant. [To Hero] Well, niece, I trust you 
+will be ruled by your father. 
+
+Beat. Yes, faith; it is my cousin's duty to 
+make curtsy and say, ‘Father, as it please 
+you.’ But yet for all that, cousin, let him be 
+a handsome fellow, or else make another 
+curtsy and say ‘Father, as it please me.’ 
+
+Leon. Well, niece, 1 hope to see you one 
+day fitted with a husband. 
+
+Beat. Not till God make men of some other 
+metal than earth. Would it not grieve a woman 
+
+
+140 
+
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+[Acr II, Sc. i 
+
+
+eee 
+
+
+to be overmastered with a piece of valiant 
+dust? to make an account of her life to a clod 
+of wayward mar]? 
+Adam's sons are my brethren; and, truly, I 
+hold it a sin to match in my kindred. 
+
+Leon. Daughter, remember what I told you: 
+if the prince do solicit you in that kind, you 
+know your answer. 7\ 
+
+Beat. The fault will be in the music, cousin, 
+if you be not wooed in good time: if the 
+prince be too important, tell him there is 
+measure in every thing and so dance out the 
+answer. For, hear me, Hero: wooing, wed- 
+ding, and repenting, is as a Scotch jig, a meas- 
+ure, and a cinque pace: the first suit is hot and 
+hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical; 
+the wedding, mannerly-modest, as a measure, 
+full of state and ancientry; and then comes 
+repentance and, with his bad legs, falls into 
+the cinque pace faster and faster, till he sink 
+into his grave. 
+
+Leon. Cousin, you apprehend passing 
+shrewdly. 
+
+Beat. I have a good eye, uncle; I can see 
+a church by daylight. 
+
+Leon. The revellers are entering, brother: 
+make good room. [All put on their masks. 
+
+
+Enter Don Pepro, Craupio, BENEDICK, BaAL- 
+THASAR, Don JoHN, Boracuio, Mar- 
+GARET, UrRsuta, and others, mashed. 
+
+
+D. Pedro. Lady, will you walk about with 
+your friend? 90 
+
+Hero. So you walk softly and look sweetly 
+and say nothing, I am yours for the walk; 
+and especially when I walk away. 
+
+D. Pedro. With me in your company? 
+
+Hero. | may say so, when I please. 
+
+D. Pedro. And when please you to say so? 
+
+Hero. When I tike your favour; for God 
+defend the lute should be like the case! 
+
+D. Pedro, My visor is Philemon's roof; 
+within the house is Jove. 100 
+
+Hero. Why, then, your visor should be 
+thatched. 
+
+D, Pedro. Speak low, if you speak love. 
+
+[Drawing her aside. 
+
+Balth. Well, I would you did like me. 
+
+Marg. So would not I, for your own sake; 
+for | have many ill qualities. 
+
+Balth. Which is one? 
+
+Marg. | say my prayers aloud. 
+
+Balth. I love you the better: the hearers 
+may cry, Amen. 110 
+
+Marg. God match me with a good dancer! 
+
+Balth. Amen. 
+
+Marg. And God keep him out of my sight 
+when the dance is done! Answer, clerk, 
+
+
+Balth. No more words: the clerk is answered, 
+Urs. I know you well enough; you are 
+
+
+No, uncle, I'll none: | Signior Antonio. 
+
+
+Ant. At a word, I am not. 
+
+Urs. | knowyou by the waggling of your head, 
+
+Ant. To tell you true, I counterfeit him. 
+
+Urs. You could never do him so ill-well, 
+unless you were the very man. Here's his dry 
+hand up and down: you are he, you are he. 
+
+Ant. At a word, I am not. 
+
+Urs. Come, come, do you think I do not 
+know you by your excellent wit? can virtue 
+hide itself? Go to, mum, you are he: graces 
+will appear, and there’s an end. : 
+
+Beat. Will you not tell me who told you so? 
+
+Bene. No, you shall pardon me. 131 
+
+Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are? 
+
+Bene. Not now. 
+
+
+Beat, That I was disdainful, and that I _ 
+
+
+had my good wit out of the ‘Hundred Merry 
+Tales:'—well, this was Signior Benedick that 
+
+
+said so, 
+
+Bene. What's he? 
+
+Beat. I am sure you know him well enough, 
+
+Bene. Not I, believe me. 
+
+Beat. Did he never make you laugh? 140 
+
+Bene. 1 pray you, what is he? 
+
+Beat. Why, he is the prince’s jester; a very 
+dull fool; only his gift is in devising impos- 
+sible slanders: none but libertines delight in 
+him; and the commendation is not in his wit, 
+but in his villany; for he both pleases men 
+and angers them, and then they laugh at him 
+and beat him. I am sure he is in the fleet: I 
+would he had boarded me. 
+
+Bene. When | know the gentleman, I "Il 
+tell him what you say. 151 
+
+Beat. Do, do: he’ll but break a compari- 
+son or two on me; which, peradventure not 
+marked or not laughed at, strikes him into 
+melancholy; and then there’s a partridge wing 
+saved, for the fool will eat no supper that 
+night. [Music.] We must follow the leaders. 
+
+Bene. In every. good thing. } 
+
+Beat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I’ will 
+leave them at the next turning. 160 
+
+[Dance. Then exeunt all except Don 
+John, Borachio, and Claudio. 
+
+D. John. Sure my brother is amorous on 
+Hero and hath withdrawn her father to break 
+with him about it. The ladies follow her and 
+but one visor remains. 
+
+Bora. And that is Claudio: I know him by 
+his bearing. 
+
+D. John. Are not you Signior Benedick? 
+
+Claud. You know me well; I am he. 
+
+D, John. Signior, you are very near my 
+brother in his love: he is enamoured on Hero; 
+I pray you, dissuade him from her: she is no 
+
+
+Act Il, Se. I] 
+
+
+equal for his birth: you may do the part of an 
+honest man in it. 
+Claud. How know you he loves her? 
+D. John. 1 heard him swear his affection. 
+Bora. So did I too; and he swore he would 
+marry her to-night. 
+D. John. Come, let us to the banquet. 
+[Exeunt Don John and Borachio. 
+Claud. Thus answer | in name of Benedick, 
+But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio. 
+*Tis certain so; the prince wooes for himself. 
+Friendship is constant in all other things 
+Save in the office and affairs of love: 
+Therefore all hearts in love use their own 
+tongues ; 
+Let every eye negotiate for itself 
+And trust no agent; for beauty is a witch 
+Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. 
+This is an accident of hourly proof, 
+Which I mistrusted not. Farewell, therefore, 
+Hero! 
+
+
+Re-enter BENEDICK. 
+
+
+Bene. Count Claudio? 
+
+Claud. Yea, the same. 
+
+Bene. Come, will you go with me? 
+
+Claud. Whither ? 
+
+Bene. Even to the next willow, about your 
+own business, county, What fashion will you 
+wear the garland of ? about your neck, like an 
+usurer’s chain? or under your arm, like a 
+lieutenant’s scarf? You must wear it one way, 
+for the prince hath got your Hero. 
+
+Claud. 1 wish him joy of her. 200 
+
+Bene, Why, that’s spoken like an honest 
+drovier! so they sell bullocks. But did you 
+think the prince would have served you thus? 
+
+Claud. | pray you, leave me. 
+
+Bene. Ho! now you strike like the blind 
+man: ‘twas the boy that stole your meat, and 
+you 'll beat the post. 
+
+Claud, If it will not be, I "Il leave you. [Exit. 
+
+Bene. Alas, poor hurt fowl! now will he 
+creep into sedges. But that my Lady Beatrice 
+should know me, and not know me! The 
+prince’s fool! Ha? It may be I go under 
+that title because I am merry. Yea, but so I 
+am apt to do myself wrong; I am not so re- 
+puted: it is the base, though bitter, disposition 
+of Beatrice that puts the world into her per- 
+son, and so gives me out. Well, I'll be 
+revenged as I may. 
+
+Re-enter Don PEDRO, 
+
+D. Fedro. Now, signior, where’s the count? 
+did you see him? 219 
+
+Bene. Troth, my lord, I have played the 
+part of Lady Fame. I found him here as mel- 
+ancholy as a lodge in a warren: I told him, 
+and | think I told him true, that your grace 
+
+
+190 
+
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+141 
+
+
+had got the good will of this young lady; and 
+I offered him my company to a willow-tree, 
+either to make him a garland, as being for- 
+saken, or to bind him up a rod, as being 
+worthy to be whipped. 
+
+D. Pedro. To be whipped! What's his 
+fault? 
+
+Bene. The flat transgression of a school-boy, 
+who, being overjoyed with finding a birds’ nest, 
+shows it his companion, and he steals it. 23] 
+
+D. Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust a trans- 
+gression? The transgression is in the stealer. 
+
+Bene. Yet it had not been amiss the rod 
+had been made, and the garland too; for the 
+garland he might have worn himself, and the 
+rod he might have bestowed on you, who, as I 
+take it, have stolen his birds’ nest. 
+
+D. Pedro. 1 will but teach them to sing, 
+and restore them to the owner. 240 
+
+Bene. If their singing answer your saying, 
+by my faith, you say honestly. 
+
+D. Pedro. The Lady Beatrice hath a 
+quarrel to you: the gentleman that danced with 
+her told her she is much wronged by you. 
+
+Bene. O, she misused me past the endurance 
+of a block! an oak but with one green leaf 
+on it would have answered her; my very visor 
+began to assume life and scold with her. She 
+told me, not thinking I had been myself, that I 
+was the prince’s jester, that I was duller than 
+a-great thaw; huddling jest upon jest with such 
+impossible conveyance upon me that I stood like 
+a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting 
+at me. She speaks poniards, and every word 
+stabs: if her breath were as terrible as her 
+terminations, there were no living near her; 
+she would infect to the north star. I would not 
+marry her, though she were endowed with all 
+that Adam had left him before he trans- 
+gressed: she would have made Hercules have 
+turned spit, yea, and have cleft his club to 
+make the fire too. Come, talk not of her: you 
+shall find her the infernal Ate in good apparel. 
+I would to God some scholar would conjure 
+her; for certainly, while she is here, a man 
+may live as quiet in hell as in a sanctuary; 
+and people sin upon purpose, because they 
+would go thither; so, indeed, all disquiet, hor- 
+
+
+ror and perturbation follows her. 
+D. Pedro. Look, here she comes. 270 
+
+
+Re-enter CLaupio, BEATRICE, HERO, and 
+LEONATO. 
+
+
+Bene. Will your grace command me any 
+service to the world’s end? I will go on the 
+slightest errand now to the Antipodes that you 
+can devise to send me on; [| will fetch you a 
+toothpicker now from the furthest inch of Asia, 
+bring you the length of Prester John’s foot, 
+
+
+142°, 
+
+
+fetch you a hair off the great Cham’s beard, do 
+you any embassage to the Pigmies, rather than 
+hold three words’ conference with this harpy. 
+You have no employment for me? 280 
+
+D. Pedro. None, but to desire your good 
+company. 
+
+Bene. O God, sir, here’s a dish I love not: 
+i cannot endure my Lady Tongue. [Exit. 
+
+D. Pedro. Come, lady, come; you have 
+lost the heart of Signior Benedick. 
+
+Beat. Indeed, my lord, he lent it me awhile; 
+and I gave him use for it, a double heart for 
+his single one: marry, once before he won it 
+of me with false dice, therefore your grace 
+may well say I have lost it. 291 
+
+D. Pedro. You have put him down, lady, 
+you have put him down. 
+
+Beat. So I would not he should do me, my 
+lord, lest I should prove the mother of fools. 
+I have brought Count Claudio, whom you sent 
+me to seek. 
+
+D. Pedro. Why, how now, count! where- 
+fore are you sad? 
+
+Claud. Not sad, my lord, 300 
+
+D. Pedro. How then? sick? 
+
+Claud. Neither, my lord. 
+
+Beat. The count is neither sad, nor sick, 
+nor merry, nor well; but civil count, civil as 
+an orange, and something of that jealous com- 
+plexion. 
+
+D. Pedro. I" faith, lady, I think your bla- 
+zon to be true; though, I ‘ll be sworn, if he be 
+so, his conceit is false. Here, Claudio, I have 
+wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is won: I 
+have broke with her father, and his good will 
+obtained: name the day of marriage, and God 
+give thee joy! 
+
+Leon. Count, take of me my daughter, and 
+with her my fortunes: his grace hath made 
+the match, and all grace say Amen to it. 
+
+Beat. Speak, count, "tis your cue. 
+
+Claud. Silence is the perfectest herald of 
+joy: I were but little happy, if I could say 
+how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am 
+yours: I give away myself for you and dote 
+upon the exchange. 320 
+
+Beat. Speak, cousin; or, if you cannot, stop 
+his mouth with a kiss, and let not him speak 
+neither. 
+
+D. Pedro. \n faith, lady, you have a merry 
+heart. 
+
+Beat. Yea, my lord; I thank it, poor fool, 
+it keeps on the windy side of care. My cousin 
+tells him in his ear that he is in her heart. 
+
+Claud. And so she doth, cousin. 
+
+Beat. Good Lord, for alliance! Thus goes 
+every one to the world but I, and I am sun- 
+burnt; I may sit in a corner and cry heigh-ho 
+
+
+for a husband! 
+
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+[Acr Il, Sc. 1 
+
+
+D. Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. 
+
+Beat. 1 would rather have one of your 
+father’s getting. Hath your grace ne'er a 
+brother like you? Your father got excellent 
+husbands, if a maid could come by them. 
+
+D. Pedro. Will you have me, lady? 339 
+
+Beat. No, my lord, unless I might have 
+another for working-days: your grace is too 
+costly to wear every day. But, I beseech your 
+grace, pardon me: I was born to speak all 
+mirth and no matter, 
+
+D. Pedro. Your silence most offends me, 
+and to be merry best becomes you; for, out of 
+question, you were born in a merry hour. 
+
+Beat. No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; 
+but then there was a star danced, and under 
+that was I born. Cousins, God give you joy! 
+
+Leon. Niece, will you look to those things 
+I told you of ? 
+
+Reat. I cry you mercy, uncle, By your 
+grace’s pardon. [Exit. 
+
+D. Pedro, By my troth, a pleasant-spir- 
+ited lady. 
+
+Leon. There's little of the melancholy ele- 
+ment in her, my lord: she is never sad but when 
+she sleeps, and not ever sad then; for I have 
+heard my daughter say, she hath often dreamed 
+of unhappiness and waked herself with laughing. 
+
+D. Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell 
+of a husband. 
+
+Leon. O, by no means: she mocks all her 
+wooers out of suit. 
+
+D. Pedro. She were an excellent wife for 
+Benedick. 
+
+Leon. O Lord, my lord, if they were but a 
+week married, they would talk themselves mad. 
+
+D. Pedro. County Claudio, when mean you 
+to go to church? 371 
+
+Claud, To-morrow, my lord: time goes on 
+crutches till love have all his rites. 
+
+Leon. Not till Monday, my dear son, which 
+is hence a just seven-night; and a time too 
+brief, too, to have all things answer my mind, 
+
+D. Pedro. Come, you shake the head at so 
+long a breathing: but, I warrant thee, Claudio, 
+the time shall not go dully by us. I will in the 
+interim undertake one of Hercules’ labours; 
+which is, to bring Signior Benedick and the 
+Lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection the 
+one with the other. I would fain have it a 
+match, and I doubt not but to fashion it, if 
+you three will but minister such assistance as 
+I shall give you direction. 
+
+Leon. My lord, I am for you, though it 
+cost me ten nights’ watchings. 
+
+Claud. And I, my lord. 
+
+D. Pedro; And you too, gentle Hero? 
+
+Hero. | will do any modest office, my lord, 
+to help my cousin to a good husband. 391 
+
+
+: 
+} 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+| 
+
+
+| 
+: 
+
+
+. 
+
+
+Act Il, Sc. I] 
+
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+143 
+
+
+D. Pedro. And Benedick is not the unhope- 
+fullest husband that I know. Thus far can I 
+praise him; he is of a noble strain, of ap- 
+proved valor and confirmed honesty. | will 
+teach you how to humour your cousin, that she 
+shall fall in love with Benedick; and I, with 
+your two helps, will so practise on Benedick, 
+that, in despite of his quick wit and his queasy 
+stomach, he shall fall in love with Eeatrice. 
+If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an 
+archer: his glory shall be ours, for we are the 
+only love-gods. Go in with me, and I will tell 
+you my drift. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. The same. 
+Enter Don JoHN and Boracuio. 
+
+
+D. John. At is so; the Count Claudio shall 
+marry the daughter of Leonato. 
+
+Bora. Yea; my lord; but I can cross it. 
+
+D. John. Any bar, any cross, any impedi- 
+ment will be medicinable to me: I am sick 
+
+
+in displeasure to him, and whatsoever comes 
+
+
+athwart his affection ranges evenly with mine. 
+How canst thou cross this marriage? 
+
+Bora. Not honestly, my lord; but so covertly 
+that no dishonesty shall appear in me. 10 
+
+D. John. Show me briefly how. 
+
+Bora. 1 think I told your lordship a year 
+since, how much I am in the favour of Mar- 
+garet, the waiting gentlewoman to Hero. 
+
+D. John. 1 remember. 
+
+Bora. | can, at any unseasonable instant of 
+the night, appoint her to look out at her lady's 
+chamber-window. 
+
+D. John. What life is in that, to be the 
+death of this marriage? 20 
+
+Bora. The poison of that lies im you to 
+temper. Go you to the prince your brother; 
+spare not to tell him that he hath wronged his 
+honour in marrying the renowned Claudio— 
+whose estimation do you mightily hold up—to 
+a contaminated stale, such a one as Hero. 
+
+D. John. What proof shall I make of that? 
+
+Bora. Proof enough to misuse the prince, 
+to vex Claudio, to undo Hero and kill Leo- 
+nato. Look you for any other issue? 30 
+
+D, John. Only to despite them, I will en- 
+deavour any thing. 
+
+Bora. Go, then; find me a meet hour to 
+draw Don Pedro and the Count Claudio alone: 
+tell them that you know that Hero loves me; 
+intend a kind of zeal both to the prince and 
+Claudio, as,—in love of your brother's honour, 
+who hath made this match, and his friend's 
+reputation, who is thus like to be cozened with 
+the semblance of a maid —that you have dis- 
+covered thus. They will scarcely believe this 
+without trial: offer them instances; which shall 
+bear no less Jikelihood than to see me at her 
+
+
+chamber-window, hear me jcall Margaret 
+Hero, hear Margaret term me Claudio; and 
+bring them to\see this the very night before the 
+intended wedding,—for in the meantime | will] 
+so fashion the matter that Hero shall be ab- 
+sent,—and there shall appear such seeming 
+truth of Hero’s disloyalty that jealousy shall 
+be called assurance and all the preparation 
+overthrown. 51 
+
+D. John. Grow this to what adverse issue it 
+can, I will put it in practice. Be cunning in 
+the working this, and thy fee is a thousand 
+ducats. 
+
+Bora. Be you constant in the accusation, 
+and my cunning shall not shame me. 
+
+D. John. 1 will presently go learn their day 
+of marriage. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene III. Leonato’s orchard. 
+Enter BENEDICK. 
+Bene. Boy! 
+
+
+Enter Boy. 
+
+
+Boy. Signior? 
+
+Bene. In my chamber-window lies a book: 
+bring it hither to me in the orchard, 
+
+Boy I am here already, sir. 
+
+Bene. 1 know that; but I would have thee 
+hence, and here again. [Exit Boy.] I do 
+much wonder that one man, seeing how much 
+another man is a fool when he dedicates his 
+behaviours to love, will, after he hath laughed 
+at such shallow follies in others, become the 
+argument of his own scorn by falling in love: 
+and such a man is Claudio. I have known 
+when there was no music with him but the 
+drum and the fife; and now had he rather 
+hear the tabor and the pipe: I have known 
+when he would have walked ten mile a-foot to 
+see a good armour; and now will he lie ten 
+nights awake, carving the fashion of a new 
+doublet. He was wont to speak plain and to 
+the purpose, like an honest man and a soldier; 
+and now is he turned orthography; his words 
+are a very fantastical banquet, just so many 
+strange dishes. May I be so converted and see 
+with these eyes? I cannot iell; I think not: I 
+will not be sworn but love may transform me 
+to an oyster; but I'll take my oath on it, till 
+he have made an oyster of me, he shall never 
+make me such a fool. One woman is fair, yet 
+I am well; another is wise, yet I am well; 
+another virtuous, yet I am well; but till all 
+graces be in one woman, one woman shall not 
+come in my grace. Rich she shall be, that’s 
+certain; wise, or I'll none; virtuous, or I ‘Il 
+never cheapen her; fair, or I "Il never look on 
+her; mjld, or come not near me; noble, or not 
+I for an angel; of good discourse, an excellent 
+
+
+144 
+
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+[Act II, Se, III 
+
+
+———-_ err eee 
+
+
+musician, and her hair shall be of what colour 
+it please God. Ha! the prince and Monsieur 
+Love! I will hide me in the arbour. 
+
+
+[Withdraws. 
+Enter Don Pepro, CLaupio, and Leonato. 
+
+
+D. Pedro. Come, shall we hear this music ? 
+Claud. Yea, my good lord. How still the 
+evening is, 40 
+
+As hush’d on purpose to grace harmony! 
+
+D. Pedro. See you where Benedick hath 
+
+hid himself > 
+
+Claud. O, very well, my lord: the music 
+
+ended, 
+We'll fit the kid-fox with a pennyworth. 
+Enter BALTHASAR with Music. 
+
+D. Pedro. Come, Balthasar, we'll hear 
+
+that song again. 
+
+Balth. O, good my lord, tax not so bad a 
+
+voice 
+To slander music any more than once. 
+
+D. Pedro. Itis the witness still of excellency 
+To put a strange face on his own perfection, 
+I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more. 50 
+
+Balith. Because you talk of wooing, I will 
+
+sing; 
+Since many a wooer doth commence his suit 
+To her he thinks not worthy, yet he wooes, 
+Yet will he swear he loves. 
+
+D. Pedro. Now, pray thee, come; 
+Or, if thou wilt hold longer argument, 
+
+Do it in notes. 
+
+Balth. Note this before my notes; 
+There’s not a note of mine that’s worth the 
+
+noting. 
+
+D. Pedro. Why, these are very crotchets 
+
+that he speaks; 
+Note, notes, forsooth, and nothing. [Air. 59 
+
+Bene. Now, divine sir! now is his soul 
+ravished! Is it not strange that sheeps’ guts 
+should hale souls out of men’s bodies? Well, 
+a horn for my money, when all’s done, 
+
+
+THE Sone, 
+Baith, Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, 
+
+
+Men were deceivers ever, 
+One foot in sea and one on shore, 
+To one thing constant never: 
+Then sigh not so, but let them go, 
+And be you blithe and bonny, 
+Converting all your sounds of woe 70 
+Into Hey nonny, nonny. 
+
+
+Sing no more ditties, sing no moe, 
+Of dumps so dull and heavy; 
+The fraud of men was ever so, 
+Since summer first was leavy: 
+Then sigh not so, &c. 
+
+
+D. Pedro. By my troth, a good sang. 
+Balth. And an ill singer. my lord. 
+
+
+D. Pedro. Ha, no, no, faith; thou singest 
+well enough for a shift. 
+
+Bene. An he had been a dog that should 
+have howled thus, they would have hanged 
+him: and I pray God his bad voice bode no 
+mischief, I had as lief have heard the night- 
+raven, come what plague could have come 
+after it. 
+
+D. Pedro. Yea, marry, dost thou hear, 
+Balthasar? I pray thee, get us some excellent 
+music; for to-morrow night we would have it 
+at the Lady Hero's chamber-window. 
+
+Balth. The best I can, my lord. 90 
+
+D. Pedro. Do so: farewell. [Exit Baltha- 
+
+sar. 
+Come hither, Leonato. What was it you told 
+me of to-day, that your niece Beatrice was in 
+love with Signior Benedick? . 
+
+Claud. O, ay: stalk on, stalk on; the fowl 
+sits. I did never think that lady would have 
+loved any man. 
+
+Leon. No, nor I neither; but most wonder- 
+ful that she should so dote on Signior Bene- 
+dick, whom she hath in all outward behav- 
+iours seemed ever to abhor. 101 
+
+Bene. Ist possible? Sits the wind in that 
+corner ? 
+
+Leon. By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell 
+what to think of it but that she loves him, with 
+an enraged affection; it is past the infinite of 
+thought. a 
+
+D. Pedro. May be she doth but counterfeit, 
+
+Claud. Faith, like enough. 
+
+Leon. O God, counterfeit! There was 
+never counterfeit of passion came so near the 
+life of passion*as she discovers it. 11 
+
+D. Pedro. Why, what effects of passion 
+shows she? 
+
+Claud. Bait the hook well; this fish will bite. 
+
+Leon. What effects, my lord? She will sit 
+you, you heard my daughter tell you how. 
+
+Claud. She did, indeed. , 
+
+D. Pedro. How, how, I pray you? You 
+amaze me: I would have thought her spirit 
+had been invincible against all assaults of af- 
+fection. 
+
+Leon. I would have sworn it had, my lord; 
+especially against Benedick. 
+
+Bene. I should think this a gull, but that 
+the white-bearded fellow speaks it: knavery 
+cannot, sure, hide himself in such reverence. 
+
+Claud. He hath ta’en the infection: hold 
+it up. 
+
+D. Pedro. Hath she made her affection 
+known to Benedick ? 
+
+Leon. No; and swears she never will: 
+that’s her torment. 130 
+
+Claud. "Tis true, indeed; so your daughter 
+says: ‘Shall I,’ says she, ‘that have so oft en- 
+
+
+’ 
+
+
+J 
+
+
+\. should.’ © 
+
+
+Act II, Sc. II] 
+
+
+countered him with scorn, write to him that | 
+love him?’ 
+
+Leon. This says she now when she is be- 
+ginning to write to him; for she ‘Il be up twen- 
+ty times a night, and there will she sit in her 
+smock till she have writ a sheet of paper: my 
+daughter tells us all. 
+
+Claud. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, 
+I remember a pretty jest your daughter told us 
+of. 
+
+
+Leon. O, when she had writ it and was 
+
+
+reading it over, she found Benedick and Bea-- 
+
+
+trice between the sheet? 
+
+Claud. That. 
+
+Leon. O, she tore the letter into a thous- 
+and halfpence; railed at herself, that she 
+should be so immodest to write to one that she 
+
+
+knew would flout her: ‘I measure him,’ says 
+
+
+she, ‘by my own spirit; for I should flout him, 
+if he writ to me; yea, though I love him, I 
+151 
+~ Claud. Then down upon her knees she 
+falls, weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her 
+hair, prays, curses; ‘O sweet Benedick! God 
+give me patience!’ 
+
+Leon. She doth indeed; my daughter says 
+so: and the ecstasy hath so much overborne 
+her that my daughter is sometime afeard she 
+will do a desperate outrage to herself: it is 
+very true. 
+
+D. Pedro. \t were good that Benedick 
+knew of it by some other, if she will not.dis- 
+cover it. 
+
+Claud. To what end? He would make but 
+a sport of it and torment the poor lady worse. 
+
+D, Pedro. An he should, it were an alms 
+to hang him. She’s an excellent sweet lady; 
+and, out of all suspicion, she is virtuous. 
+
+Claud. And she is exceeding wise. 
+
+D. Pedro. \n every thing but in loving 
+Benedick. 169 
+
+Leon. O, my lord, wisdom and blood com- 
+bating in so tender a body, we have ten proofs 
+to one that blood hath the victory. I am sorry 
+for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle 
+and her guardian. 
+
+D. Pedro. 1 would she had bestowed this 
+dotage on me: I would have daffed all other 
+respects and made her half myself. I pray 
+you, tell Benedick of it, and hear what a’ will 
+say. 
+
+Leon. Were it good, think you? 179 
+
+Claud. Hero thinks surely she will die; for 
+she says she will die, if he love her not, and 
+she will die, ere she make her love known, and 
+she will die, if he woo her, rather than she 
+will bate one breath of her accustomed cross- 
+
+
+ness. 
+D. Pedro. She doth well: if she should 
+
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+We. 
+
+
+145 
+
+
+make tender of her love, ’tis very possible he ‘Il 
+scorn it; for the man, as you know all, hath a 
+contemptible spirit. 
+
+Claud. He is a very proper man, 
+
+
+D. Pedro. He hath indeed a good outward 
+
+
+happiness, 191 
+Claud. Before God! and, in my mind, 
+very wise. 
+D. Pedro. He doth indeed show sume 
+
+
+sparks that are like wit. 
+
+Claud. And I take him to be valiant. 
+
+D. Pedro. As Hector, I assure you: and 
+in the managing of quarrels you may say he 
+is wise; for either he avoids them with great 
+discretion, or undertakes them with a most 
+Christian-like fear. 200 
+
+Leon. If he do fear God, a’ must necessar- 
+ily keep peace: if he break the peace, he ought 
+to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling. 
+
+D. Pedro. And so will he do; for the man 
+doth fear God, howsoever it seems not in him 
+by some large jests he will make. Well, I am 
+sorry for your niece. Shall we go seek Bene- 
+dick, and tell him of her love? 
+
+Claud. Never tell him, my lord: let her 
+wear it out with good counsel. 
+
+Leon. Nay, that’s impossible: she may 
+wear her heart out first. 210 
+
+D. Pedro. Well, we will hear further of it 
+by your daughter: let it cool the while. I love 
+Benedick well; and I could wish he would 
+modestly examine himself, to see how much 
+he is unworthy so good a lady. 
+
+Leon. My lord, will you walk? dinner is 
+ready, 
+
+Claud. If he do not dote on her upon this, 
+I will never trust my expectation. 220 
+
+D. Pedro. Let there be the same net spread 
+for her; and that must your daughter and her 
+gentlewoman carry. The sport will be, when 
+they hold one an opinion of another's dotage, 
+and no such matter: that’s the scene that I 
+would see, which will be merely a dumb- 
+show. Let us send her to call him in to dinner. 
+[Exeunt Don Pedro, Claudio, and Leonato. 
+
+Bene. [Coming forward] This can be no 
+trick: the conference was sadly borne. They 
+have the truth of this from Hero. They seem 
+to pity the lady: it seems her affections have 
+their full bent. Love me! why, it must be re- 
+quited. I hear how I am censured: they say I 
+will bear myself proudly, if I perceive the 
+love come from her: they say too that she will 
+rather die than give any sign of affection. I did 
+never think to marry: I must not seem proud: 
+happy are they that hear their detractions and 
+can put them to mending. They say the lady 
+is fair; ‘tis a truth, I can bear them witness; 
+and virtuous; ‘tis so, | cannot reprove it; and 
+
+
+146 
+
+
+wise, but for loving me; by my troth, it is no 
+addition to her wit, nor no great argument of 
+her folly, for I will be horribly in love with 
+her. I may chcace have some odd quirks and 
+remnants of wit broken on me, because I have 
+railed so long against marriage: but doth not 
+the appetite alter? a man loves the meat in 
+his youth that he cannot endure in his age. 
+Shall quips and sentences and these paper bul- 
+lets of the brain awe a man from the career 
+of his humour? No, the world must be peo- 
+pled. When I said I would die a bachelor, I 
+did not think I should live till I were married. 
+Here comes Beatrice. By this day! she’s a 
+“air lady: I do spy some marks of love in her. 
+
+
+Enter BEATRICE. 
+
+
+Beat. Against my will I am sent to bid you 
+come in to dinner. 
+
+Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your 
+>ains. 
+
+Beat. | took no more pains for those thanks 
+than you take pains to thank me: if it had 
+been painful, I would not have come. 261 
+
+Bene, You take pleasure then in the mes- 
+sage > 
+
+Beat. Yea, just so much as you may take 
+upon a knife’s point and choke a daw withal. 
+You have no stomach, signior: fare you well. 
+
+[Exit. 
+
+Bene. Ha! * Against my will I am sent to 
+bid you come in to dinner;’ there’s a double 
+meaning in that. ‘I took no more pains for 
+those thanks than you took pains to thank 
+me;’ that’s as much as to say, Any pains that 
+I take for you is as easy as thanks. If I do 
+not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do 
+not love her, J am 2 Jew. I will go get her 
+picture, [Exit. 
+
+
+AcT Til: 
+Scene I, Leonato’s garden. 
+Enter Hero, Marcaret, and Ursuta. 
+
+
+cake Good Margaret, run thee to the par- 
+
+our; 
+
+There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice 
+
+Proposing with the prince and Claudio: 
+
+Whisper her ear and tell her, I and Ursula 
+
+Walk in the orchard and our whole discourse 
+
+Is all of her; say that thou overheard’st us; 
+
+And bid her steal into the pleached bower, 
+
+Where honeysuckles, ripen’d by the sun, 
+
+Forbid the sun to enter, like favorites, 
+
+Made proud by princes, that advance their 
+pride 
+
+Against that power that bred it: there will she 
+hide her, 11 
+
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+‘ka 
+y 
+
+
+[Acr III, Sc, 1 
+
+
+To listen our purpose. This is thy office; 
+Bear thee well in it and leave us alone, 
+Marg. 1'll make her come, I warrant you, 
+presently, [Exit. 
+Hero. Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth 
+come, 
+As we do trace this alley up and down, 
+Our talk must only be of Benedick, 
+When I do name him, let it be thy part 
+To praise him more than ever man did merit: 
+My talk to thee must be how Benedick 20 
+Is sick in love with Beatrice. Of this matter 
+Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made, 
+That only wounds by hearsay. 
+
+
+Enter Beatrice, behind. 
+
+
+Now begin; 
+For lock where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs 
+Close by the ground, to hear our conference. 
+Urs. The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish 
+Cut with her golden oars the silver stream, 
+And greedily devour the treacherous bait: 
+So angle we for Beatrice; who even now 
+Is couched in the woodbine coverture. 
+Fear you not my part of the dialogue. 
+Hero. Then go we near her, that her ear 
+lose nothing 
+Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it. 
+[Approaching the bower. 
+No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful; 
+I know her spirits are as coy and wild 
+As haggerds of the rock. 
+Ts. But are you sure 
+That Benedick loyes Beatrice so entirely? 
+Hero, So Says the prince and my new- 
+trothed lord. ; 
+Urs. And did they bid you tell her of it, 
+madam ? 
+Hero. They did entreat me to acquaint her 
+of it; 40 
+But I persuaded them, if they loved Benedick, 
+To wish him wrestle with affection, 
+And never to let Beatrice know of it. 
+Urs. Why did you so? Doth not the 
+gentleman 
+Deserve as full as fortunate a bed 
+As ever Beatrice shall couch upon? 
+Hero. O god of love! I know he doth deserve 
+As much as may be yielded to a man: 
+But nature never framed a woman's heari 
+Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice; 50 
+Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, 
+Misprising what they look on, and her wit 
+Values itself so highly that to her 
+All matter else seems weak: she cannot love, 
+Nor take no shape nor project of affection, 
+She is so self-endeared. 
+
+
+Urs. 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+Sure. I think so; 
+
+
+Act III, Se. 1] 
+
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+147 
+
+
+And therefore certainly it were not good 
+
+She knew his love, lest she make sport: at 
+it, 
+
+‘Hero. Why, you speak truth. I never yet 
+
+saw man, 
+
+How wise, how noble, young, how rarely 
+featured, 
+
+But she would spell him backward: if fair- 
+faced, 
+
+She would swear the gentleman should be her 
+sister ; 
+
+If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antique, 
+
+Made a foul biot; if tall, a lance ill-headed; 
+
+If low, an agate very vilely cut; 
+
+If speaking, why, a vane blown with all 
+winds; 
+
+If silent, why, a block moved with none. 
+
+So turns she every man the wrong side out 
+
+And never gives to truth and virtue that 
+
+Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. 70 
+
+
+Urs. Sure, sure, such carping is not com- 
+mendable. 
+
+Hero. No, not to be so odd and from all 
+fashions 
+
+
+As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable: 
+
+But who dare tell her so? If I should speak, 
+She would mock me into air; O, she would 
+
+laugh me 
+
+Out of myself, press me to death with wit, 
+Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire, 
+Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly: 
+
+It were a better death than die with mocks, 
+Which is as bad as die with tickling. 80 
+
+Urs. Yet tell her of it: hear what she will 
+
+say. 
+
+Hero. No; rather I will go to Benedick 
+And counsel him to fight against his passion. 
+And, truly, I'll devise some honest slanders 
+To stain my cousin with: one doth not know 
+How much an ill word may empoison liking. 
+
+Urs. O, do not do your cousin such a wrong. 
+She can not be so much without true judge- 
+
+ment— 
+Having so swift and excellent a wit 
+As she is prized to have—as to refuse 
+So rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick. 
+
+Hero. He is the only man of Italy, 
+Always excepted my dear Claudio. 
+
+Urs. 1 pray you, be not angry with me, 
+
+madam, 
+Speaking my fancy: Signior Benedick, 
+For shape, for bearing, argument and valour 
+Goes foremost in report through Italy. 
+
+Hero. Indeed, he hath an excellent good 
+
+name. 
+
+Urs. His excellence did earn it, ere he had it. 
+“When are you married, madam? 100 
+' Hero. Why, every day, to-morrow. Come, 
+
+go in: 
+
+
+90 
+
+
+I'll show thee some attires, and have thy 
+counsel 
+Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow. 
+Urs. She's limed, I warrant you: we have 
+caught her, madam. 
+Hero. If it proves so, then loving goes bv 
+haps: 
+Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. 
+[Exeunt Hero and Ursula, 
+Beat. [Coming forward] What fire is in 
+mine ears? Can this be true? 
+Stand I condemn’d for pride and scorn so 
+much ? 
+Contempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu! 
+No glory lives behind the back of such. 110 
+And, Benedick, love on; I will requite thee, 
+Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand: 
+If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite 
+thee 
+To bind our loves up in a holy band; 
+For others say thou dost deserve, and I 
+Believe it better than reportingly. [Exit. 
+
+
+Scene II. A room in Leonato’s house. 
+
+
+Enter Don Pepro, Ciaupio, BENEDICK, and 
+LEoNaTO. 
+
+
+D. Pedro. I do but stay till your marriage 
+be consummate, and then go | toward Arragon. 
+
+Claud. 1’ll bring you thither, my lord, if 
+you ‘ll vouchsafe me. 
+
+D. Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a 
+soil in the new gloss of your marriage as to 
+show a child his new coat and forbid him to 
+wear it. I will only be bold with Benedick for 
+his company; for, from the crown of his head 
+to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth: he hath 
+twice or thrice cut Cupid’s bow-string and the 
+little hangman dare not shoot at him; he hath 
+a heart as sound as a bell and his tongue is the 
+clapper, for what his heart thinks his tongue 
+speaks. 
+
+Bene. Gallants, I am not as | have been. 
+
+Leon. So say |: methinks you are sadder, 
+
+Claud. I hope he be in love. 
+
+D. Pedro. Hang him, truant! there’s no 
+true drop of blood in him, to be truly touched 
+with love: if he be sad, he wants money. 20 
+
+Bene. I have the toothache. 
+
+D. Pedro. Draw it. 
+
+Bene. Hang it! 
+
+Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it 
+afterwards. 
+
+D. Pedro. What! sigh for the toothache? 
+
+Leon. Where is but a humour or a worm. 
+
+Bene. Well, every one can master a grief 
+but he that has it. 
+
+Claud. Yet say I, he is in love. 30 
+
+D. Pedro. There is no appearance of fancy 
+
+
+148 
+
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+[Act III, Se. If 
+
+
+in him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to 
+strange disguises; as, to be a Dutchman to- 
+day, a Frenchman to-morrow, or in the shape 
+of two countries at once, as, a German from 
+the waist downward, all slops, and a Spaniard 
+from the hip upward, no doublet. Unless he 
+have a fancy to this foolery, as it appears he 
+hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would 
+have it appear he is. 
+
+Claud. If he be not in love with some 
+woman, there is no believing old signs: a’ 
+brushes his hat o’ mornings; what should that 
+bode > 
+
+D. Pedro. Hath any man seen him at the 
+barber's? 
+
+Claud. No, but the barber's man hath been 
+seen with him, and the old ornament of his 
+cheek hath already stuffed tennis-balls. 
+
+Leon. Indeed, he looks younger than~ he 
+did, by the loss of a beard. 
+
+D. Pedro. Nay, a’ rubs himself with civet: 
+can you smell him out by that? 51 
+
+Claud. That’s as much as to say, the sweet 
+youth’s in love. 
+
+D. Pedro, The greatest note of it is his 
+melancholy. 
+
+Claud. And when was he wont to wash his 
+face? 
+
+D. Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the 
+which, I hear what they say of him. 
+
+Claud. Nay, but his jesting spirit; which is 
+now crept into a lute-string and now governed 
+by stops. 
+
+D. Pedro. Indeed, that tells a heavy tale 
+for him: conclude, conclude he is in love. 
+
+Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him. 
+
+D. Pedro. That would I know too: I war- 
+rant one that knows him not. 
+
+Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions; and, in 
+despite of all, dies for him. Ff 
+
+D. Pedro. She shall be buried with her 
+face upwards, 71 
+
+Bene, Yet is this no charm for the toothache. 
+Old signior, walk aside with me: I have 
+studied eight or nine wise words to speak to 
+you, which these hobby-horsés must not hear. 
+
+
+[Exeunt Benedickh and Leonato, 
+
+
+D. Pedro. For my life, to break with him 
+about Beatrice. 
+Claud. "Tis even so. Hero and Margaret 
+
+
+have by this played their parts with Beatrice; 
+and then the two bears will not bite one 
+
+
+another when they meet. 81 
+
+
+Enter Don Joun. 
+
+
+D. John. My lord and brother, God save 
+you! 
+D. Pedro. Good den, brother. 
+
+
+D. John. Jf your leisure served, I would 
+speak with you. 
+
+D. Pedro. In private? 
+
+D. John. If it please you: yet Count 
+
+
+Claudio may hear; for what I would speak of 
+
+
+concerns him, 
+D. Pedro. What's the matter? 90 
+D. John. [To Claudio] Means your lord- 
+
+
+ship to be married to-morrow? 
+
+
+D. Pedro. You know he does, 
+
+D. John. I know not that, when he knows 
+what I know. 
+
+Claud. If there be any impediment, | 
+
+
+pray you discover it. 
+
+D. John. You may think I love you not: 
+let that appear hereafter, and aim better at 
+me by that I now will manifest. For my 
+brother, I think he holds you well, and in 
+dearness of heart hath holp to effect your 
+ensuing marriage,—surely suit ill spent and 
+labour ill bestowed. 
+
+D. Pedro. Why, what's the matter? 
+
+D. John. 1 came hither to tell you; and, 
+circumstances shortened, for she has been too 
+long a talking of, the lady is disloyal. 
+
+Claud. Who, Hero? 
+
+D. John. Even she; Leonato’s Hero, youn 
+Hero, every man’s Hero. 110 
+
+Claud. Disloyal> 
+
+D. John. The word is too good to paint out 
+her wickedness; I could say she were worse: 
+think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to 
+it. Wonder not till further warrant: go but 
+with me to-night, you shall see her chamber- 
+window entered, even the night before her 
+wedding-day: if you love her then, to-morrow 
+wed her; but it would better fit your honour 
+change your mind. 
+
+Claud. May this be so? 120 
+
+D. Pedro. 1 will not think it. 
+
+D. John. If you dare not trust that you 
+see, confess not that you know: if you will 
+follow me, I will show you enough; and when 
+you have seen more and heard more, proceed 
+accordingly. 
+
+Claud. If I see any thing to-night why I 
+should not marry her to-morrow, in the con- 
+gregation, where I should wed, here will [ 
+shame her. 
+
+
+D. Pedro. And, as 1 wooed for thee to ob- ~ 
+
+
+tain her, I will join with thee to disgrace her; 
+D. John. 1 will disparage her no farther 
+till you are my witness: bear it coldly but till 
+midnight, and let the issue show itself. 
+D. Pedro. O day untowardly turned! 
+Claud, O mischief strangely thwarting! 
+D. John. O plague right well prevented! 
+so will you say when you have seen the sequel, 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+ee eee ee eee ree 
+
+
+= 4 
+
+
+Act III, Sc. HI] 
+
+
+Scene Ill. A street. 
+
+
+Enter DocBeRRY and VeERGES with the 
+Watch. 
+
+
+Dog. Are you good men and true? 
+
+Verg. Yea, or else it were pity but they 
+should suffer salvation, body and soul. 
+
+Dog. Nay, that were a punishment too 
+good for them, if they should have any allegi- 
+ance in them, being chosen for the prince's 
+watch. 
+
+
+Verg. Well, give them their charge, neigh-- 
+
+
+bour Dogberry. 
+
+Dog. First, who think you the most desart- 
+less man to be constable > 10 
+
+First Watch. Hugh Otecake, sir, or George 
+Seacole; for they can write and read. 
+
+Dog. Come hither, neighbour Seacole, God 
+hath blessed you with a good name: to be a 
+well-favoured man is the gift of fortune: but 
+to write and read comes by nature. 
+~ Sec. Watch. Both which, master constable,— 
+
+Dog. You have: I knew it would be your 
+answer. Well, for your favour, sir, why, give 
+God thanks, and make no boast of it; and for 
+your writing and reading, let that appear when 
+there is no need of such vanity. You are 
+thought here to be the most senseless and fit 
+man for the constable of the watch; therefore 
+bear you the lantern. This is your charge: 
+you shall comprehend all vagrom men; you 
+are to bid any man stand, in the prince’s name. 
+
+Sec. Watch. How if a’ will not stand? 
+
+Dog. Why, then, take no note of him, but 
+let him go; and presently call the rest of the 
+watch together and thank God you are rid of 
+‘a knave. 
+
+Verg. If he will not stand when he is bid- 
+den, he is none of the prince’s subjects. 
+
+Dog. ‘True, and they are to meddle with 
+none but the prince’s subjects. You shall also 
+make no noise in the streets; for for the watch 
+to babble and to talk is most tolerable and not 
+to be endured. 
+
+Watch. We will rather sleep than talk; we 
+know what belongs to a watch. 40 
+
+Dog. Why, you speak like an ancient and 
+most quiet watchman; for I cannot see how 
+sleeping should offend: only, have a care that 
+your bills be not stolen. Well, you are to call 
+at all the ale-houses, and bid those that are 
+drunk get them to bed. 
+
+Watch. How if they will not? 
+
+Dog.’ Why, then, let them alone till they 
+are sober: if they make you not then the better 
+answer, you may say they are not the men you 
+took them for. 
+
+Watch. Well, sir. 
+
+
+Dog. If you meet a thief, you may suspect 
+
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+149 
+
+
+him, by virtue of your office, to be no true 
+man: and, for such kind of men, the less you 
+meddle or make with them, why, the more is 
+for your honesty. 
+
+Watch. If we know him to be a thief, shall 
+we not lay hands on him? 
+
+Dog. Truly, by your office, you may; but 
+I think they that touch pitch will be defiled: 
+the most peaceable way for you, if you do 
+take a thief, is to let him show himself what 
+he is and steal out of your company. 
+
+Verg. You have been always called a mer- 
+ciful man, partner. 
+
+Dog. ‘Truly, I would not hang a dog by 
+my will, much more a man who hath any hon- 
+esty in him. 
+
+Verg. If you hear a child cry in the night, 
+you must call to the nurse and bid her still it. 
+
+Watch. How if the nurse be asleep and 
+will not hear us? 
+
+Dog. Why, then, depart in peace, and let 
+the child wake her with crying; for the ewe 
+that will not hear her lamb when it baes will 
+never answer a calf when he bleats. 
+
+Verg. ‘Tis very true. 
+
+Dog. This is the end of the charge:—you, 
+constable, are to present the prince’s own per- 
+son: if you meet the prince in the night, you 
+may stay him. 81 
+
+Verg. Nay, by’r lady, that I think a’ 
+cannot. 
+
+Dog. Five shillings to one on’t, with any 
+man that knows the statutes, he may stay him: 
+marry, not without the prince be willing; for, 
+indeed, the watch ought to offend no man; 
+and it is an offence to stay a man against his 
+will. 
+
+Verg. By’r lady, I think it be so. 89 
+
+Dog. Ha, ah, ha! Well, masters, good 
+night: an there by any matter of weight 
+chances, call up me: keep your fellows’ 
+counsels and your own; and good night. 
+Come, neighbour. 
+
+Watch. Well, masters, we hear our 
+charge: let us go sit here upon the church- 
+bench till two, and then all to bed. 
+
+Dog. One word more, honest neighbours. 
+I pray you, watch about Signior Leonato’s 
+door; for the wedding being there to-morrow, 
+there is a great coil to-night. Adieu: be vig- 
+itant, I beseech you. [Exeunt Dogberry and 
+
+Verges, 
+
+
+Enter Boracuio and ConrabE. 
+
+
+Bora. What, Conrade! 
+
+Watch. [Aside] Peace! stir not. 
+Bora. Conrade, | say! 
+
+Con. Here, man; I am at thy elbow, 
+
+
+150 
+
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+[Act III, Sc. IV 
+
+
+Bora. Mass, and my elbow itched; I 
+thought there would a scab follow. 
+
+Con. I will owe thee an answer for that: 
+and now forward with thy tale. 109 
+
+Bora. Stand thee close, then, under this 
+pent-house, for it drizzles rain; and I will, 
+like a true drunkard, utter all to thee, 
+
+
+Watch. [Aside] Some treason, masters: 
+yet stand close. 
+Bora. Therefore know I have earned of 
+
+
+Don John a thousand ducats. 
+
+Con. Is it possible that any villany should 
+be so dear? 
+
+Bora. ‘Thou shouldst rather ask if it were 
+possible any villany should be so rich; for 
+when rich villains have need of poor ones, 
+poor ones may make what price they will. 
+
+Con. I wonder at it. 
+
+Bora. That shows thou art unconfirmed. 
+Thou knowest that the fashion of a doublet or 
+a hat, or a cloak, is nothing to a man. 
+
+Con. Yes, it is apparel. 
+
+Bora. I mean, the fashion. 
+
+Con. Yes, the fashion is the fashion. 129 
+
+Bora. Tush! I may as well say the fool's 
+the fool. But seest thou not what a deformed 
+thief this fashion is? 
+
+Watch. [Aside] I know that Deformed; 
+a’ has been a vile thief this seven year; a’ goes 
+up and down like a gentleman: I remember 
+his name. 
+
+Bora. Didst thou not hear somebody ? 
+
+Con. Na; ‘twas the vanz on the house. 
+
+Bora. Seest thou not, I say, what a de- 
+formed thief this fashion is? how giddily a’ 
+turns about all the hot bloods between fourteen 
+and five-and-thirty? sometimes fashioning 
+them like Pharaoh's soldiers in the reechy 
+painting, sometime like god Bel’s priests in the 
+old church-window, sometime like the shaven 
+Hercules in the smirched worm-eaten tapestry, 
+where his codpiece seems as massy as his club? 
+
+Con. All this I see; and I see that the 
+fashion wears out more apparel than the man. 
+But art not thou thyself giddy with the fash- 
+ion too, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale 
+into telling me of the fashion? 
+
+Bora. Not so, neither: but know that I 
+have to-night wooed Margaret, the Lady 
+Hero’s gentlewoman, by the name of Hero: 
+she leans me out at her mistress’ chamber-win- 
+dow, bids me a thousand times good night,—I 
+
+~tell this tale vilely:—I should first tell thee 
+how the prince, Claudio and my master, plant- 
+ed and possessed by my master Don John, saw 
+afar off in the orchard this amiable encounter. 
+
+Con. And thought they Margaret was Hero? 
+
+Bora. Two of them did, the prince and 
+Claudio; but the devil my master knew she 
+
+
+was Margaret; and partly by his oaths, which 
+first possessed them, partly by the dark night, 
+which did deceive them, but chiefly by my 
+villany, which did confirm any slander that 
+Don John had made, away went Claudio en- 
+raged; swore he would meet her, as he was 
+appointed, next morning at the temple, and 
+there, before the whole congregation, shame 
+her with what he saw o’er night and send her 
+home again without a husband. 
+
+First Watch. We charge you, in the 
+prince’s name, stand! 
+
+Sec. Watch. Call up the right master con- 
+stable. We have here recovered the most 
+dangerous piece of lechery that ever was 
+known in the commonwealth. 181 
+
+First Watch. And one Deformed is one 
+of them: I know him; a’ wears a lock. 
+
+Con. Masters, masters,— 
+
+Sec. Watch. You'll be made bring De- 
+formed forth, I warrant you. 
+
+Con. Masters,— 
+
+First Watch. Never speak: we charge you 
+let us obey you to go with us. 189 
+
+Bora. We are like to prove a goodly com- 
+modity, being taken up of these men’s bills. 
+
+Con. A commodity in question, I warrant 
+you. Come, we'll obey you. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene IV. Hero's apartment. 
+Enter Hero, Marcaret, and Ursuta,. 
+
+
+Hero. Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beat- 
+rice and desire her to rise. 
+
+
+Urs. I will, lady. 
+
+Hero. And bid her come hither. 
+
+Urs. Well? [Exit. 
+Marg. ‘roth, I think your other rabato: 
+
+
+were better, 
+ite: No, pray thee, good Meg, I'l] wear 
+this, 
+
+Marg. By my troth, ‘s not so good; and 1 
+warrant your cousin will say so. 10 
+
+Hero. My cousin's a fool, and thou art 
+another: I ‘Il wear none but this. 
+
+Marg. | like the new tire within excellent- 
+ly, if the hair were a thought browner; and 
+your gown’s a most rare fashion, i’ faith. I 
+saw the Duchess of Milan’s gown that they 
+praise so. 
+
+Hero. O, that exceeds, they say. 
+
+Marg. By my troth, ’s but a night-gown 
+in respect of yours: cloth o’ gold, and cuts, 
+and laced with silver, set with pearls, down 
+
+
+sleeves, side sleeves, and skirts, round under- - 
+
+
+borne with a bluish tinsel: but for a fine, 
+quaint, graceful and excellent fashion, yours 
+is worth ten on't. 
+
+Hero. God give me joy to wear it! for 
+my heart is exceedingly heavy. 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+Acr Ill, Sc. IV] 
+
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+151 
+
+
+Marg. ‘Twill be heavier soon by the 
+weight of a man. 
+
+Hero, Fie upon thee! art not ashamed? 
+
+Marg. Of what, lady? of speaking hon- 
+ourably> Is not marriage honourable in a 
+beggar? Is not your lord honourable without 
+marriage? I think you would have me say, 
+‘saving your reverence, a husband:’ an bad 
+thinking do not wrest true speaking, I'll of- 
+fend nobody: is there any harm in ‘the heavier 
+for a husband’? None, IJ think, an it be the 
+right husband and the right wife: otherwise 
+"tis light, and not heavy: ask my Lady Bea- 
+trice else; here she comes. 
+
+
+Enter BEATRICE, 
+
+
+Hero. Good morrow, coz. 
+
+Beat. Good morrow, sweet Hero. 40 
+
+Hero. Why, how now? do you speak in 
+the sick tune? 
+
+Beat. I am out of all other tune, methinks. 
+
+Marg. Clap’s into ‘Light o’ love;’ that 
+goes without a burden: do you sing, and I ‘Il 
+dance it. 
+
+Beat. Ye light o’ love, with your heels! 
+then, if your husband have stables enough, 
+you ll see he shall lack no barns. 
+
+Marg. O illegitimate construction! I scorn 
+that with my heels. 51 
+
+Beat. ‘Tis almost five o'clock, cousin; ‘tis 
+time you were ready. By my troth, I am ex- 
+ceeding ill: heigh-ho! 
+
+Marg. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband? 
+
+Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H. 
+
+Marg. Well, an you be not turned Turk, 
+there’s no more sailing by the star. 
+
+Beat. What means the fool, trow? 
+
+Marg. Nothing I; but God send every one 
+their heart’s desire! él 
+
+Hero. ‘These gloves the count sent me; 
+they are an excellent perfume. 
+
+Beat. I am stuffed, cousin; I cannot smell. 
+
+Marg. A maid, and stuffed! there’s goodly 
+catching of cold. 
+
+Beat. O, God help me! God help me! 
+how long have you professed apprehension ? 
+
+Marg. Ever since you left it. Doth not my 
+wit become me rarely? 70 
+
+Beat. It is not seen enough, you should 
+wear it in your cap. By my troth, I am sick. 
+
+Marg. Get you some of this distilled Car- 
+duus Benedictus, and lay it to your heart: it 
+is the only thing for a qualm. 
+
+Hero. There thou prickest her with a thistle. 
+
+Beat. Benedictus! why Benedictus? you 
+have some moral in this Benedictus. 
+
+Marg. Moral! no, by my troth, I have no 
+moral meaning; I meant, plain holy-thistle. 
+You may think perchance that I think you are 
+
+
+in love: nay, by’r lady, I am not such a fool 
+to think what I list, nor I list not to think what 
+I can, nor indeed I cannot think, if J would 
+think my heart out of thinking, that you are m 
+love or that you will be in love or that you 
+can be in love. Yet Benedick was such an- 
+other, and now is he become a man: he swore 
+he would never marry, and yet now, in despite 
+of his heart, he eats his meat without grudg- 
+ing: and how you may be converted | know 
+not, but methinks you look with your eyes as 
+other women do. 
+
+Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue 
+keeps? 
+
+Marg. Not a false gallop. 
+
+Re-enter URsuLA. 
+
+Urs. Madam, withdraw: the prince, the 
+count, Signior Benedick, Don John, and all 
+the gallants of the town, are come to fetch 
+you to church. > 
+
+Hero. Help to dress me, good coz, good 
+Meg, good Ursula. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+SceNnE V. Another room in LEONATO's house. 
+Enter LEoNATO, with DoGBERRY and VERGES, 
+
+
+Leon. What would you with me, honest 
+neighbour ? 
+
+Dog. Marry, sir, | would have some con- 
+fidence with you that decerns you nearly. 
+
+Leon. Brief, I pray you; for you see it is 
+a busy time with me. 
+
+Dog. Marry, this it is, sir. 
+
+Verg. Yes, in truth it is, sir. 
+
+Leon. What is it, my good friends? 
+
+Dog. Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little 
+off the matter: an old man, sir, and his wits 
+are not so blunt as, God help, I would desire 
+they were; but, in faith, honest as the skin 
+between his brows. 
+
+Verg. Yes, | thank God I am as honest as 
+any man living that is an old man and no 
+honester than I. 
+
+Dog. Comparisons are odorous: palabras, 
+neighbour Verges. 
+
+Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious. 20 
+
+Dog. It pleases your worship to say so, but 
+we are the poor duke’s officers; but truly, for 
+mine own part, if I were as tedious as a king, 
+I could find it m my heart to bestow it all of 
+your worship. 
+
+Leon. All thy tediousness on me, ah? 
+
+Dog. Yea, an twere a thousand pound moye 
+than "tis; for I hear as good exclamation on your 
+worship as of any man in the city; and though 
+I be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it. 30 
+
+Verg. And so am | 
+
+Leon. I would fain know what you have 
+to say. 
+
+Verg. Marry, sir, our watch to-night, ex- 
+
+
+cepting your worship’s presence, ha’ ta’en a 
+couple of as arrant knaves as any in Messina. 
+
+Dog. A good old man, sir; he will be talk- 
+ing: as they say, When the age is in, the wit 
+is out: God help us! it is a world to see. 
+Well said, i’ faith, neighbour Verges: well, 
+God’s a good man; an two men ride of a 
+horse, one must ride behind. An honest soul, 
+i’ faith, sir; by my troth he is, as ever broke 
+bread; but God is to be worshipped; all men 
+are not alike; alas, good neighbour! 
+
+Leon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short 
+of you. 
+
+Dog. Gifts that God gives. 
+
+Leon. I must leave you. 
+
+Dog. One word, sir: our watch, sir, have 
+indeed comprehended two aspicious persons, 
+and we would have them this morning exam- 
+ined before your worship. 
+
+Leon. Take their examination yourself and 
+bring it me; I am now in great haste, as it 
+may appear unto you. 
+
+Dog. It shall be suffigance. 
+
+Leom. Drink some wine ere you go: fare 
+you well. 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+Mess. My lord, they stay for you to give 
+your daughter to her husband. 60 
+Leon. I'll wait upon them: I am ready. 
+
+[Exeunt Leonato and Messenger. 
+
+Dog. Go, good partner, go, get you to Francis 
+Seacole; bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to 
+the gaol: we are now to examination these men. 
+
+Yerg. And we must do it wisely. 
+
+Dog. We will spare for no wit, I warrant 
+you; here’s that shall drive some of them to a 
+noncome: only get the learned writer to set 
+down our excommunication and meet me at 
+the gaol, ~ [Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT IV. 
+
+
+Scene I. A church. 
+
+
+Enter Don Pepro, Don Joun, LeEonarTo, 
+Friar. Francis, Craupio, BENEDICK, 
+Hero, Beatrice, and altendants. 
+
+
+Leon. Come, Friar Francis, be brief; only 
+to the plain form of marriage, and you shall 
+recount their particular duties afterwards. 
+
+Friar. You come hither, my lord, to marry 
+this lady. 
+
+Claud. No. 
+
+Leon. To be married to her: friar, you 
+come to marry her. 
+
+Friar. Lady, you come hither to be mar- 
+ried to this count. 10 
+
+Hero. I do. 
+
+
+Friar. If either of you know any. inward 
+
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. 1 | 
+
+
+impediment why you should not be conjoined, 
+I charge you, on your souls, to utter it. 
+
+Claud. Know you any, Hero? 
+
+Hero. None, my lord. 
+
+Friar. Know you any, count? 
+
+Leon. I dare make his answer, none. 
+
+Claud. O, what men dare do! what men 
+may do! what men daily do, not knowing 
+what they do! 
+
+Bene. How now! interjections? Why, 
+then, some be of laughing, as, ah, ha, he! 
+
+Claud. Stand thee by, friar. Father, by 
+
+your leave: ’ ; 
+
+Will you with free and unconstrained soul 
+Give me this maid, your daughter ? 
+
+Leon. As freely, son, as God did give her me. 
+
+Claud. And what have I to give you back, 
+
+whose worth x 
+
+May counterpoise this rich and precious gift? 
+
+D. Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her — 
+
+
+again. 30 
+Claud. Sweet prince, you learn me noble 
+thankfulness. 
+
+
+Theve, Leonato, take her back again: 
+Give not this rotten orange to your friend; 
+She’s but the sign and semblance of her honour. 
+Behold how like a maid she blushes here! 
+O, what authority and show of truth 
+Can cunning sin cover itself withal! 
+Comes not that blood as modest evidence | 
+To witness simple virtue? Would you not 
+swear, ‘ 
+All you that see her, that she were a maid, 40 
+By these exterior shows? But she is none: 
+She knows the heat of luxurious bed; ; 
+Her blush is*guiltiness, not modesty. q 
+Leon. What do you mean, my lord? 
+Claud. Not to be married, 
+Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton. 
+Leon. Dear my lord, if you, in your own 
+proof, 
+Have vanquish'd the resistance of her youth, 
+And made defeat of her virginity,— 
+Claud. I know what you would say: if I 
+have known her, 
+You will say she did embrace me as a husband, 
+And so extenuate the ‘forehand sin: 51 
+No, Leonato, 
+I never tempted her with word too large; 
+But, as a brother to his sister, show'd 
+Bashful sincerity and comely love. 
+Hero. And seem’d I ever otherwise to you? 
+Claud. Out on thee! Seeming! I will write 
+against it: 
+You seem to me as Dian in her orb, 
+As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown; 
+But you are more intemperate in your bloo? 
+Than Venus, or those pamper’d animals 
+That rage in savage sensuality. 
+
+
+eae a ee 
+
+
+ee —a ——s 
+
+
+spe aa 
+
+
+) Act IV, Sc. I] 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+153 
+
+
+Hero. Is my lord well, that he doth speak 
+so wide? 
+Leon. Sweet prince, why speak not you? 
+D. Pedro. What should I speak? 
+I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about 
+To link my dear friend to a common stale. 
+Leon. Are these things spoken, or do I but 
+dream ? 
+D. John. Sir, they are spoken, and these 
+things are true. 
+Bene. This looks not like a nuptial. 
+Hero. True! O God! 
+Claud. Leonato, stand | here> 70 
+Is this the prince? is this the prince’s brother? 
+Is this: face Hero's? are our eyes our own? 
+Leon. All this is so: but what of this, my 
+lord? 
+Claud, Let me but move one question to 
+your daughter; 
+And, by that fatherly and kindly power 
+._ That you have in her, bid her answer truly. 
+~ Leon. 1 charge thee do so, as thou art my 
+child. 
+Hero. O, God defend me! how am I beset! 
+What kind of catechising call you this? 
+Claud. To make you answer truly to your 
+name. 80 
+Hero. Is it not Hero? Who can blot that 
+name 
+With any just reproach? 
+Claud. Marry, that can Hero; 
+Hero itself can blot out Hero’s virtue. 
+What man was he talk'd with you yesternight 
+Out at your window betwixt twelve and one? 
+Now, if you are a maid, answer to this. 
+Hero. | talk’d with no man at that hour, 
+my lord. 5. 
+_ D. Pedro. Why, then are you no maiden. 
+Leonato, 
+I am sorry you must hear: upon mine honour, 
+Myself, my brother and this grieved count 90 
+Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night 
+Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window; 
+Who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain, 
+Confess'd the vile encounters they have had 
+A thousand times in secret. 
+D. John. Fie, fie! they are not to be named, 
+my lord, 
+Not to be spoke of; 
+There is not chastity enough in language 
+Without offence to utter them. Thus, pretty 
+lady, 
+I am sorry for thy much misgovernment. 100 
+meas .O Hero, what a Hero hadst thou 
+een, 
+If half thy outward graces had been placed 
+About thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart! 
+But fare thee well, most foul, most fair! 
+farewell, 
+
+
+Thou pure impiety and impious purity! 
+For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love. 
+And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang, 
+To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm, 
+And never shall it more be gracious. 
+Leon. Hath no man’s dagger here a point 
+for me? [Hero swoons. [10 
+Beat. Why, how now, cousin! wherefore 
+sink you down? 
+D. John. Come, let us go. These things, 
+come thus to light, : 
+Smother her spirits up. 
+[Exeunt Don Pedro, Don John, and Claudio. 
+Bene. How doth the lady > 
+Beat. Dead, I think. Help, uncle! 
+Hero! why, Hero! Uncle! Signior Benedick! 
+Friar! 
+Leon. O Fate! take not away thy heavy 
+hand, 
+Death is the fairest cover for her shame 
+That may be wish’d for. 
+Beal. How now, cousin Hero! 
+Friar, Have comfort, lady. 
+Leon. Dost thou look up? 12€ 
+Friar. Yea, wherefore should she not? 
+Leon. Wherefore! Why, doth not every 
+earthly thing 
+Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny 
+The story that is printed in her blood? 
+Do not live, Hero; do not ope thine eyes: 
+For, did I think thou wouldst not quickly die, 
+Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy 
+shames, 
+Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches, 
+Strike at thy life. Grieved I, I had but one? 
+Chid I for that at frugal nature’s frame? 130 
+O, one too much by thee! Why had I one? 
+Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes? 
+Why had I not with charitable hand 
+Took up a beggar’s issue at my gates, 
+Who smirched thus and mired with infamy, 
+I might have said ‘No part of it is mine; 
+This shame derives itself from unknown loins"? 
+But mine and mine I Joved and mine I praised 
+And mine that I was proud on, mine so much 
+That I myself was to myself not mine, 140 
+Valuing of her,—why, she, O, she is fallen 
+Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea 
+Hath drops too few to wash her clean again 
+And salt too little which may season give 
+To her foul-tainted flesh! 
+Bene. Sir, sir, be patient. 
+For my part, I am so attired in wonder, 
+I know not’what to say, 
+Beat. O, on my soul, my cousin is belied! 
+Bene. Lady, were you her bedfellow ast 
+night> 
+Beat, No, truly not; although, until Jas 
+night, 150 
+
+
+154 
+
+
+I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. 
+
+Leon.’ Confirm’d, confirm’d! O, that is 
+
+stronger made 
+Which was before barr’d up with ribs of iron! 
+Would the two princes lie, and Claudio lie, 
+Who loved her so, that, speaking of her foul- 
+ness, 
+Wash’d it with tears? Hence from her! let 
+her die. 
+
+Friar. Hear mea little; for I have only been 
+Silent so long and given way unto 
+7 This course of fortune. . 
+
+By noting of the lady I have lark 
+
+A thousand blushing apparitions 
+
+To start into her face, a thousand innocent 
+shames 
+
+In angel whiteness beat away those blushes; 
+
+And in her eye there hath appear’d a fire, 
+
+To burn the errors that these princes hold 
+
+Against her maiden truth. Call me a fool; 
+
+Trust not my reading nor my observations, 
+
+Which with experimental seal doth warrant 
+
+The tenour of my book; trust not my age, 
+
+My veference, calling, nor divinity, 170 
+
+If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here 
+
+Under some biting error. 
+
+Leon. Friar, it cannot be. 
+Thou seest that all the grace that she hath left 
+Is that she will not add to her damnation 
+A sin of perjury; she not denies it: 
+
+Why seek’st thou then to cover with excuse 
+That which appears in proper nakedness? 
+
+Friar. Lady, what man is he you are ac- 
+
+cused of ? 
+
+Hero. They know that do accuse me: I 
+
+know none: 
+If I know more of any man alive 180 
+Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant, 
+Let all my sins lack mercy! O my father, 
+Prove you that any man with me conversed 
+At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight 
+Maintain’d the change of words with any 
+creature, 
+Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death! 
+
+Friar. There is some strange misprision in 
+
+the, princes, 
+
+Bene. Two of them have the very bent of 
+
+honour; 
+And if their wisdoms be misled in this, 
+The practice of it lives in John the bastard, 
+Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies. 
+Leon. I know not. If they speak but truth 
+of her, 
+These hands shall tear her; if they wrong 
+her honour, 
+The proudest of them shall well hear of it. 
+Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, 
+Nor age so eat up my invention, 
+Nor fortune made such havoc by my means, 
+
+
+160 
+
+
+190 
+
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. I 
+
+
+Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, 
+But they shall find, awaked in such a kind, 
+Both strength of limb and policy of mind, 209 
+Ability in means and choice of friends, 
+
+To quit me of them throughly. 
+
+Friar. Pause awhile, 
+And let my counsel sway you in this case. 
+Your daughter here the princes left for dead 
+Let her awhile be secretly kept in, 
+
+And publish it that she is dead indeed; 
+Maintain a mourning ostentation 
+
+And on your family’s old monument 
+
+Hang mournful epitaphs and do all rites 
+That appertain unto a burial. 210 
+
+Leon. What shall become of this? what 
+
+will this do? 
+
+Friar. Marry, this well carried shal] on her 
+
+behalf 5: 
+Change slander to remorse; that is some good: 
+But not for that dream J on this strange course, 
+But on this travail look for greater birth. 
+
+She dying, as it must be so maintain’d, 
+
+Upon the instant that she was accused, 
+
+Shall be lamented, pitied and excused 
+
+Of every hearer: for it so falls out 
+
+That what we have we prize not to the worth 
+
+Whiles we enjoy it, but being lack’d and lost, 
+
+Why, then we rack the value, then we find 
+
+The virtue that possession would not show us 
+
+While it was ours. So will it fare with Claudio; — 
+
+When he shall hear she died upon his words, 
+
+The idea of her life shall sweetly creep 
+
+Into his study of imagination, 
+
+And every lovely organ of her life 
+
+Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, _ 
+
+More moving-delicate and full of life, 230 
+
+Into the eye and prospect of his soul, 
+
+Than when she lived indeed; then shall he 
+mourn, 
+
+If ever love had interest in his liver, 
+
+And wish he had not so accused her, 
+
+No, though he thought his accusation true. 
+
+Let this be so, and doubt not but success 
+
+
+| Will fashion the event in better shape 
+
+
+Than I can lay it down in likelihood. 
+But if all aim but this be levell’d false, 
+The supposition of the lady’s death 
+Will quench the wonder of her infamy: . 
+And if it sort not well, you may conceal her, — 
+As best befits her wounded reputation, 
+In some reclusive and religious life, 
+Out of all eyes, tongues, minds and injuries. 
+Bene. Signior Leonato, let the friar advise 
+ou: 
+And though you know my inwardness and love | 
+Is very much unto the prince and Claudio, 
+Yet, by mine honour, J will deal in this 
+As secretly and justly as your soul 250 
+
+
+Should with your body. 
+
+
+240 
+
+
+a a 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. II] 
+
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+Leon. Being that I flow in grief, 
+The smallest twine may lead me. 
+
+Friar. "Tis well consented: presently away; 
+
+For to strange sores strangely they strain the 
+
+cure. 
+Come, lady, die to live: this wedding-day 
+
+Perhaps is but prolong’d: have patience and 
+
+endure. 
+[Exeunt all but Benedick and Beatrice. 
+
+Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all 
+
+this while > 
+
+Beai. Yea, and | will weep a while longer: 
+
+Bene. | will not desire that. 
+
+Beat. You have no reason; | do it freely. 
+
+Bene. Surely | do believe your fair cousin 
+is wronged, 
+
+Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserve 
+of me that would right her! 
+
+Bene. Is there any way to show such 
+friendship ? 
+
+Beat. A very even way, but no such friend, 
+~ Bene. May a man do it? 
+
+Beat. It is a man’s office, but not yours. 
+
+Bene. I do love nothing in the world so 
+well as you: is not that strange > 270 
+
+Beat. As strange as the thing I know not. 
+It were as possible for me to say | loved 
+nothing so well as you: but believe me not; 
+and yet I lie not; I confess nothing, nor I 
+deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin. 
+
+Bene. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest 
+me. 
+
+Beat. Do not swear, and eat it, 
+
+Bene. 1 will swear by it that you love me; 
+and | will make him eat it that says I love not 
+you. 
+
+Beat. Will you not eat your word? 280 
+
+Bene. With no sauce that can be devised to 
+it. I protest I love thee. 
+
+Beat. Why, then, God forgive me! 
+
+Bene. What offence, sweet Beatrice? 
+
+Beat. You have stayed me in a happy 
+hour: I was about to protest I loved you. 
+
+Bene. And do it with all thy heart. 
+
+Beat. 1 love you with so much of my heart 
+that none is left to protest. 
+
+Bene. Come, bid me do any thing for thee. 
+
+Beat. Kill Claudio. 291 
+
+Bene. Ha! not for the wide world. 
+
+Beat. You kill me to deny it. Farewell. 
+
+Bene. Tarry, sweet Beatrice. 
+
+Beat. 1 am gone, though I am here: there 
+is no love in you: nay, I pray you, let me go. 
+
+Bene? Beatrice, — 
+
+Beat. In faith, I will go. 
+
+Bene. We'll be friends first. 
+
+Beat. You dare easier be friends with me 
+than fight with mine enemy. 301 
+
+Bene. Js Claudio thine enemy? 
+
+
+155 
+
+
+Beat. Is he not approved in the height 4, 
+villain, that hath slandered, scorned, dishon-. 
+oured my kinswoman? O that I were a man! 
+What, bear her in hand until they come to 
+take hands; and then, with public accusation, 
+uncovered slander, unmitigated rancour,—O 
+God, that I were a man! I would eat his 
+heart in the market-place. 
+
+Bene. Hear me, Beatrice,— 310 
+
+Beat. Talk with a man out at a window! 
+A proper saying! 
+
+Bene. Nay, but, Beatrice,— 
+
+Beat. Sweet Hero! She is wronged, she is 
+slandered, she is undone, 
+
+Bene. Beat— 
+
+Beat. Princes and counties! Surely, a 
+princely testimony, a goodly count, Count 
+Comfect; a sweet gallant, surely! O that I 
+were a man for his sake! or that I had any 
+friend would be a man for my sake! But 
+manhood is melted into courtesies, valour into 
+compliment, and men are only turned into 
+tongue, and trim ones too: he is now as valiant 
+as Hercules that only tells a lie and swears it, 
+I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I 
+will die a woman with grieving. 
+
+Bene. Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, 
+I love thee. 
+
+Beat. Use it for my love some other way 
+than swearing by it. 330 
+
+Bene. Think you in your soul the Count 
+Claudio hath wronged Hero? 
+
+eae Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a 
+soul. 
+
+Bene. Enough, I am engaged; I will chal- 
+lenge him. I will kiss your hand, and so | 
+leave you. By this hand, Claudio shall render 
+me a dear account. As you hear of me, so 
+think of me. Go, comfort your cousin: I must 
+say she is dead: and so, farewell. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene II. A prison. 
+
+
+Enter DocBerry, VERGES, and Sexton, in 
+gowns; and the Watch, with CoNRADE 
+and Boracuio. 
+
+
+Dog. Is our whole dissembly appeared? 
+Verg. O, a stool and a cushion for the sexton. 
+Sex. Which be the malefactors>? 
+
+Dog. Marry, that am I and my partner. 
+
+Verg. Nay, that’s certain; we have the ex- 
+hibition to examine, 
+
+Sex. But which are the offenders that are 
+to be examined? let them come before master 
+constable. 
+
+Dog. Yea, marry, let them come before me. 
+What is your name, friend? Bi 
+
+Bora. Borachio. 
+
+Dog. Pray, write down, Borachio. Yours, 
+sirrah ? 
+
+
+156 
+
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+{Act V, Sc. I 
+
+
+Con. I am a gentleman, sir, and my name 
+is Conrade. 
+
+Dog. Write down, master gentleman Con- 
+rade. Masters, do you serve God? 
+
+aut t Yea, sir, we hope. 
+
+Dog. Write down, that they hope they serve 
+God: and write God first; ror God defend but 
+God should go before such villains! Masters, 
+it is proved already that you are little better 
+than false knaves; and it will go near to be 
+thought so shortly. How answer you for 
+yourselves ? 
+
+Con. Marry sir, we say we are none. 
+
+Dog. A marvellous witty fellow, I assure 
+you; but I will go about with him. Come you 
+hither, sirrah; a word in your ear: sir, I say 
+to you, it is thought you are false knaves. 30 
+
+Bora. Sir, I say to you we are none. 
+
+Dog. Well, stand aside. ‘Fore God, they 
+are both in a tale. Have you writ down, that 
+they are none? 
+
+Sex. Master constable, you go not the way 
+to examine: you must call forth the watch that 
+are their accusers. 
+
+Dog. Yea, marry, that's the eftest way. Let 
+the watch come forth. Masters, I charge you, 
+in the prince’s name, accuse these men. 4 
+
+First Watch. This man said, sir, that Don 
+John, the prince’s brother, was a villain. 
+
+Dog. Write down Prince John a villain. 
+Why, this is flat perjury, to call a prince’s 
+brother villain. 
+
+Bora. Master constable,— 
+
+Dog. Pray thee, fellow, peace: I do not 
+like thy look, I promise thee. 
+
+Sex. What heard you him say else? 
+
+Sec. Watch. Marry, that he had received 
+a thousand ducats of Don John for accusing 
+the Lady Hero wrongfully. | 
+
+Dog. Flat burglary as ever was committed. 
+
+Verg. Yea, by mass, that it is. 
+
+Sex. What else, fellow? 
+
+First Watch. And that Count Claudio did 
+mean, upon his words, to disgrace Hero before 
+the whole ‘assembly, and not marry her. 
+
+Dog. O villain! thou wilt be condemned 
+into everlasting redemption for this. 
+
+Sex. What else? 60 
+
+Watch. This is all. 
+
+Sex. And this is more, masters, than you 
+can deny. Prince John is this morning secretly 
+stolen away; Hero was in this manner ac- 
+cused, in this very manner refused, and upon 
+the grief of this suddenly died. Master con- 
+stable, let these men be bound, and brought 
+to Leonato's: I will go before and show him 
+their examination. 
+
+Dog. Come, ‘et them be opinioned, 
+
+
+Verg. tLet them be in the hands— 70 
+Con. Off, coxcomb! 
+
+
+Dog. God's my life, where’s the sexton? — 
+
+
+let him write down the prince’s officer coxcomb, 
+Come, bind them. Thou naughty varlet! 
+
+Con. Away! you are an ass, you are an ass. 
+
+Dog. Dost thou not suspect my place? desi 
+thou not suspect my years? O that he were 
+nere to write me down an ass! But, masters, 
+remember that I am an ass; though it be not 
+written down, yet forget not that I am an ass. 
+No, thou villain, thou art full of piety, as shall 
+be proved upon thee by good witness. I am a 
+wise fellow, and, which is more, an officer, 
+and, which is more, a householder, and, which 
+is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any is in 
+Messina, and one that knows the law, go to; 
+and a rich fellow enough, go to; and a fellow 
+that hath had losses, and one that hath two 
+gowns and every thing handsome about him, 
+Bring him away. O that I had been writ 
+down an ass! [Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT V. 
+
+
+Scene I. Before LEonato’s house. 
+Enter LEonato and ANTONIO. 
+
+
+Ant. If you go on thus, youwill kill yourself; 
+And ‘tis not wisdom thus te second grief 
+Against yourself, 
+
+Leon. 
+Which falls into mine ears as profitless 
+As water in a sieve: give not me counsel; 
+
+Nor let no comforter delight mine ear 
+
+But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine, 
+Bring me a father that so loved his child, 
+Whose joy of her is overwhelm’d like mine, 
+And bid him speak of patience; 
+
+Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine 
+And let it answer every strain for strain, 
+
+As thus for thus and such a grief for such, 
+
+In every lineament, branch, shape, and form: 
+
+
+If such a’ one will smile and stroke his beard, — 
+
+
+{Bid sorrow wag, cry ‘hem!’ when he should 
+groan, 
+Patch grief with proverbs, make misfortune 
+drunk 
+With candle-wasters; bring him yet to me, 
+And I of him will gather patience. 
+But there is no such man: for, brother, men 20 
+Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief 
+Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it, 
+Their counsel turns to passion, which before 
+Would give preceptial medicine to rage, 
+Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, 
+Charm ache with air and agony. with words: 
+No, no; ’tis all men’s office to speak patience 
+To those that wring under the load of sorrow, 
+But no man’s virtue nor sufficiency 
+
+
+I pray thee, cease thy counsel, | 
+
+
+€ 
+
+
+Ts 
+
+
+Sy RD es hea ow, FS os | a 
+ee te ey oe ef 
+A hee or 
+
+
+NS 
+Acr V, Sc. I] 
+
+
+Te be so moral when he shall endure 30 
+The like himself, Therefore give me no counsel: 
+My griefs cry louder than advertisement. 
+Ant. Therein do men from children noth- 
+ing differ. 
+Leon. | pray thee, peace. I will be flesh 
+and blood; 
+For there was never yet philosopher 
+That could endure the toothache patiently, 
+However they have writ the style of gods 
+And made a push at chance and sufferance. 
+Ant. Yet bend not all the harm upon your- 
+self ; 
+Make those that do offend you suffer too. 40 
+Leon. There thou speak’st reason: nay, | 
+will do so. 
+My soul doth tell me Hero is belied; 
+And that shall Claudio know; so shall the 
+prince 
+And all of them that thus dishonour her. 
+Ant. Here comes the prince and Claudio 
+hastily. 
+
+
+Enter Don Pepro and CLaupio. 
+
+
+D. Pedro. Good den, good den. 
+Claud. Good day to both of you. 
+Leon. Hear you, my lords,— 
+D. Pedro. We have some haste, Leonato. 
+Leon. Some haste, my lord! well, fare you 
+well, my lord: 
+Are you so hasty now? well, all is one. 
+D. Pedro. Nay, do not quarrel with us, 
+good old man. 50 
+Ani. If he could right himself with quarrel- 
+ling, 
+Some of us would lie low. 
+Claud, Who wrongs him? 
+Leon. Marry, thou dost wrong me; thou 
+| dissembler, thou :— 
+Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword; 
+I fear thee not. 
+Claud. Marry, beshrew my hand, 
+If it should give your age such cause of fear: 
+In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword. 
+Leon. Tush, tush. nian; never fleer and jest 
+at me: 
+I speak not like a dotard nor a fool, 
+As under privilege of aze to brag 60 
+What I have done being young, or what would 
+
+
+do 
+Were I not old. Know, Claudio, to thy head, 
+
+
+Thou hast so wrong’d mine innocent child and 
+
+
+me, 
+That I am forced to lay my reverence by 
+And, with grey hairs and bruise of many days, 
+Do challerxge thee to trial of a man. 
+I say thou hast belied mine innocent child; 
+Thy slander hath gone through and through 
+her heart. 
+
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+’*s 
+
+
+157 
+
+
+And she lies buried with her ancestors; 
+O, in a tomb where never scandal slept, 
+Save this of hers, framed by thy villany! 
+Claud. My villany ? 
+Leon. Thine, Claudio; thine, I say. 
+D. Pedro. You say not right, old man. 
+Leon. My lord, my lord, 
+I'll prove it on his body, if he dare, 
+Despite his nice fence and his active prac- 
+tice, j 
+
+
+70 
+
+
+| His May of youth and bloom of lustihood, 
+
+
+Claud. Away! I will not have to do with 
+
+
+you. 
+Leon. Canst thou so daff me? Thou hast 
+lall’d my child: 
+
+
+If thou kill’st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man. 
+Ant. He shall kill two of us, and men 
+indeed: 
+But that’s no matter; let him kill one first; 81 
+Win me and wear me; let him answer me. 
+Come, follow me, boy; cume, sir boy, come, 
+follow me: 
+Sir boy, I'll whip you from your foining 
+fence; 
+Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will. 
+Leon. Brother,— 
+Ant. Content yourself. God knows I loved 
+my niece; 
+And she is dead, slander’d to death by villains, 
+That dare as well answer a man indeed 
+As I dare take a serpent by the tongue: 90 
+Boys, apes, braggarts, Jacks, milksops! 
+Leon. Brother Anthony,— 
+Ant. Hold you content. What, man! 1} 
+know them, yea, 
+And what they weigh, even to the utmost 
+scruple,— 
+Scrambling, out-facing, fashion-monging boys, 
+That lie and cog and flout, deprave and slander, 
+Go anticly, show outward hideousness, 
+And speak off half a dozen dangerous words, 
+How they might hurt their enemies, if they 
+durst; 
+And this is all. 
+Leon. But, brother Anthony,— 
+Ant. Come, ’tis no matter: 
+Do not you meddle; let me deal in this. 
+D,. Pedro. Gentlemen both, we will not 
+wake your patience. 
+My heart is sorry for your daughter’s death: 
+But, on my honour, she was charged with 
+nothing 
+But what was true and very full of proof, 
+Leon. My lord, my lord,— 
+D. Pedro. 1 will not hear yoa, 
+Leon. No? Come, brother; away! I will 
+be heard. 
+Ant. And shall, or some of us will smart 
+for it [Exeunt Leonato and Antonio 
+
+
+10@ 
+
+
+158 
+
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+[Acr V, Sc. 1 
+
+
+D. Pedro. See, see; here comes the man 
+we went to seek, 110 
+
+
+Enter BENEDICK. 
+
+
+Claud. Now, signior, what news? 
+
+Bene. Good day, my lord. 
+
+D. Pedro. Welcome, signior: you are al- 
+most come to part almost a fray. 
+
+Claud. We had like to have had our two 
+noses snapped off with two old men without 
+teeth. 
+
+D. Pedro. Leonato and his brother. What 
+thinkest thou? Had we fought, I doubt we 
+should have been too young for them. 
+
+Bene. In a false quarrel there is no true 
+valour. I came to seek you both. 121 
+
+Claud. We have been up and down to seek 
+thee; for we are high-proof melancholy and 
+would fain have it beaten away. Wilt thou 
+use thy wit? 
+
+Bene. It is in my scabbard: shall I draw it? 
+
+D. Pedro. Dost thou wear thy wit by thy 
+side > 
+
+Claud. Never any did so, though very many 
+have been beside their wit. I will bid thee draw, 
+as we do the minstrels; draw, to pleasure us. 
+
+D. Pedro. As | am an honest man, he looks 
+pale. Art thou sick, or angry? 131 
+
+Claud. What, courage, man! What though 
+care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in 
+thee to kill care. 
+
+Bene. Sir, 1 shall meet your wit in the 
+career, an you charge it against me. I pray 
+you choose another subject. 
+
+Claud. Nay, then, give him another staff: 
+this last was broke cross. 
+
+D. Pedro. By this light, he changes more 
+and more: I think he be angry indeed. 14] 
+
+Claud. If he be, he knows how to turn his 
+girdle. 
+
+Bene. Shall I speak a word in your ear? 
+
+Claud. God bless me from a challenge! 
+
+Bene. [Aside to Claudio] You are a vil- 
+lain; I jest not: 1 will make it good how you 
+dare, with what you dare, and when you dare. 
+Do me right, or | will protest your cowardice. 
+You have killed a sweet lady, and her death 
+shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from you. 
+
+Claud. Well, I will meet you, so I may 
+have good cheer. 
+
+D. Pedro. What, a feast, a feast? 
+
+Claud. 1° faith, I thank him; he hath bid 
+me to a calf’s head and a capon; the which if 
+I do not carve most curiously, say my knife ’s 
+naught. Shall I not find a woodcock too? 
+
+Bene. Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes 
+easily. 159 
+
+D, Pedro, ll tell thee how Beatrice praised 
+thy wit the other day. I said, thou hadst a fine 
+
+
+wit: “True,’ said she, ‘a fine little one.’ ‘No,’ 
+said I, ‘a great wit: ‘Right,’ says she, ‘a 
+great gross one.’ ‘Nay,’ said I, ‘a good wit;’ 
+‘Just,’ said she, ‘it hurts nobody.’ “Nay,” said 
+I, ‘the gentleman is wise:’ “Certain,” said she, 
+‘a wise gentleman.’ ‘Nay,’ said I, ‘he hath the 
+tongues:’ “That I believe,’ said she, ‘for he 
+swore a thing to me on Monday night, which 
+he forswore on Tuesday morning; there’s a 
+double tongue; there’s two tongues.’ Thus 
+did she, an hour, together, trans-shape thy 
+particular virtues: yet at last she concluded 
+with a sigh, thou wast the properest man in 
+Italy. 
+
+Claud. For the which she wept heartily 
+and said she cared not. 
+
+D. Pedro. Yea, that she did; but yet, for 
+all that, an if she did not hate him deadly, she 
+would love him dearly: the old man’s daugh- 
+ter told us all. 180 
+
+Claud. All, all; and, moreover, God saw 
+him when he was hid in the garden. 
+
+D. Pedro. But when shall we set the savage 
+bull’s horns on the sensible Benedick’s head? 
+
+Claud. Yea, and text underneath, ‘Here 
+dwells Benedick the married man’? 
+
+Bene. Fare you well, boy: you know my 
+mind, I will leave you now to your gossip-like 
+humour: you break jests as braggards do their 
+blades, which, God be thanked, hurt not. My 
+lord, for your many courtesies I thank you: I 
+must discontinue your company: your brother 
+the bastard is fled from Messina: you have 
+among you killed a sweet and innocent lady. 
+For my Lord Lackbeard there, he and I shall 
+meet: and, till then, peace be with him. [Exit, 
+
+D. Pedro. He is in earnest. 
+
+Claud. In most profound earnest; and, I ‘Il 
+warrant you, for the love of Beatrice. | 
+
+D. Pedro. And hath challenged thee. 200 
+
+Claud. Most sincerely. 
+
+D. Pedro. What a pretty thing man is 
+when he goes in his doublet and hose and 
+leaves off his wit. 
+
+Claud. He is then a giant to an ape; but 
+then is an ape a doctor to such a man. 210 
+
+D. Pedro. But, soft you, let me be: pluck 
+up, my heart, and be sad. Did he not say, my 
+brother was fled? 
+
+
+Enter DocpBerry, VERGES, and the Watch, 
+with CONRADE and Boracuio. 
+
+
+Dog. Come you, sir: if justice cannot tame 
+you, she shall ne’er weigh more reasons in her 
+balance: nay, an you be a cursing hypocrite 
+once, you must be looked to. 
+
+D. Pedro. How now? two of my brother's 
+men bound! Borachio one! 
+
+Claud, Hearken after their offence, my lord. 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. I] 
+
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+159 
+
+
+D. Pedro. Officers, what offence have these 
+men done > 
+
+Dog. Marry, sir, they have committed false 
+report; moreover, they have spoken untruths; 
+secondarily, they are slanders; sixth and lastly, 
+they have belied a lady; thirdly, they have 
+verified unjust things; and, to conclude, they 
+are lying knaves. 
+
+D, Pedro. First, I ask thee what they have 
+done; thirdly, I ask thee what's their offence; 
+sixth and lastly, why they are committed; and, 
+to conclude, what you lay to their charge. 
+
+Claud. Rightly reasoned, and in his own 
+division; and, by my troth, there’s one mean- 
+ing well suited. 231 
+
+D. Pedro. Who have you offended, mas- 
+ters, that you are thus bound to your answer? 
+this learned constable is too cunning to be 
+understood: what's your offence? 
+
+Bora. Sweet prince, let me go no farther to 
+mine answer: do you hear me, and let this 
+
+
+_count kill me. I have deceived even your very 
+
+
+eyes: what your wisdoms could not discover, 
+these shallow fools have brought to light; who 
+in the night overheard me confessing to this 
+man how Don John your brother incensed me 
+to slander the Lady Hero, how you were 
+brought into the orchard and saw me court 
+Margaret in Hero's garments, how you dis- 
+graced her, when you should marry her: my 
+villany they have upon record; which I had 
+rather seal with my death than repeat over to 
+my shame. The lady is dead upon mine and 
+my master’s false accusation; and, briefly, I 
+desire nothing but the reward of a villain. 251 
+
+D. Pedro. Runs not this speech like iron 
+
+through your blood? 
+
+
+Claud. 1 have drunk poison whiles he 
+utter’d it. 
+
+D. Pedro. But did my brother set thee on 
+to this? 
+
+
+Bora. Yea, and paid me richly for the 
+practice of it. 
+D. Pedro. He is composed and framed of 
+treachery: 
+And fled he is upon this villany. 
+Claud. Sweet Hero! now thy image doth 
+appear 
+In the rare semblance that I loved it first. 260 
+Dog. Come, bring away the plaintiffs: by 
+this time our sexton hath reformed Signior 
+Leonato of the matter: and, masters, do not 
+forget to specify, when time and place shall 
+serve, «that I am an ass. 
+Verg. Were, here comes master Signior 
+Leonato, and the sexton too. 
+
+
+Re-enter LEONATO and ANTONIO, with the 
+Sexton. 
+
+
+Leon. Which is the villain? let me see his 
+eyes, 
+That, when I note another man like him, 270 
+I may avoid him: which of these is he? 
+Bora. If you would know your wronger, 
+look on me. 
+Leon. Art thou the slave that with thy 
+breath hast kill’d 
+
+
+Mine innocent child? 
+
+
+Bora. Yea, even | alone. 
+Leon. No, not so, villain; thou beliest 
+thyself : 
+
+
+Here stand a pair of honourable men; 
+A third is fled, that had a hand in it. 
+I thank you, princes, for my daughter’s death: 
+Record it with your high and worthy deeds: 
+"Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. 
+Claud. 1 know not how to pray your 
+patience; 
+Yet I must speak. Choose your revenge your? 
+self; 
+Impose me to what penance your invention 
+Can lay upon my sin: yet sinn’d I not 
+But in mistaking. 
+D. Pedro. By my soul, nor I: 
+And yet, to satisfy this good old man, 
+I would bend under any heavy weight 
+That he'll enjoin me to. 
+Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daughter 
+live; 
+That were impossible: but, I pray you both, 
+Possess the people in Messina here 29 
+How innocent she died; and if your love 
+Can labour aught in sad invention, 
+Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb 
+And sing it to her bones, sing it to-night: 
+To-morrow morning come you to my house, 
+And since you could not be my son-in-law, 
+Be yet my nephew: my brother hath a daughter, 
+Almost the copy of my child that’s dead, 
+And she alone is heir to both of us: 300 
+Give her the right you should have given her 
+cousin, 
+And so dies my revenge. 
+Claud. O noble sir, 
+Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me! 
+I do embrace your offer; and dispose 
+For henceforth of poor Claudio. 
+Leon. To-morrow then I will expect your 
+coming; 
+To-night I take my leave. This naughty man 
+Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, 
+Who I believe was pack’d in all this wrong, 
+Hired to it by your brother. 
+Bora. No, by my soul, she was not, 
+Nor knew not what she did when she spoke 
+to me, 311 
+But always hath been just and virtuous 
+In any thing that I do know by her. 
+
+
+160 
+
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+ee | ty arr 
+Ae AUR ie he 
+
+
+[Acr V, Sc. Ik 
+
+
+Dog. Moreover, sir, which indeed is not 
+under white and black, this plaintiff here, the 
+offender, did call me ass: I beseech you, let it 
+be remembered in his punishment. And also, 
+the watch heard them talk of one Deformed: 
+they say he wears a key in his ear and a lock 
+hanging by it, and borrows money in God's 
+name, the which he hath used so long and 
+never paid that now men grow hard-hearted 
+and will lend nothing for God’s sake: pray 
+you, examine him upon that point. 
+
+Leon. | thank thee for thy care and honest 
+
+pains. 
+
+Dog. Your worship speaks like a most 
+thankful and reverend youth; and I praise 
+God for you. 
+
+Leon. There's for thy pains. 
+
+Dog. God save the foundation! 
+
+Leon. Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, 
+and | thank thee. 
+
+Dog. | leave -an arrant knave with your 
+worship; which I beseech your worship to 
+correct yourself, for the example of others. 
+God keep your worship! I wish your worship 
+well; God restore you to health! I humbly 
+give you leave to depart; and if a merry meet- 
+ing may be wished, God prohibit it! Come, 
+
+
+neighbour. [Exeunt Dogberry and Verges, 
+Leon. Until to-morrow morning, lords, 
+farewell. 
+
+
+Ant. Farewell, my lords: we look for you 
+to-morrow. 
+
+
+D. Pedro. We will not fail. 
+Claud. To-night I ‘ll mourn with Hero. 
+Leon. [To the Watch] Bring you these 
+fellows on. We'll talk with Margaret, 
+How her acquaintance grew with this lewd 
+fellow. [Exeunt, severally. 
+
+
+Scene IJ. Leonato’s garden. 
+Enter BENEDICK and MarcareET, meeting. 
+
+
+Bene. Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, 
+deserve well at my hands by helping me to the 
+speech of Beatrice. 
+
+Marg. Will you then write me a sonnet in 
+praise of my beauty? 
+
+Bene. In so high a style, Margaret, that no 
+man living shall come over it; for, in most 
+comely truth, thou deservest it. 
+
+Marg. To have no man come over me! 
+why, shall I always keep below stairs? 10 
+
+Bene. Thy wit is as quick as the grey- 
+hound’s mouth; it catches. 
+
+Marg. And yours as blunt as the fencer's 
+foils, which hit, but hurt not. 
+
+Bene. A most manly wit, Margaret; it will 
+not hurt a woman: and so, I pray thee, call 
+Beatrice: I give thee the bucklers, 
+
+
+Marg. Give us the swords; we have bucklers 
+of our own. 
+
+Bene. If you use them, Margaret, you must 
+put in the pikes with a vice; and they are 
+dangerous weapons for maids. : 
+
+Marg. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, 
+who I think hath legs. 
+
+Bene. And therefore will come. 
+
+[Exit Margaret. 
+The god of love, 
+That sits above, 
+And knows me, and knows me, 
+How pitiful I deserve,— 29 
+I mean in singing; but in loving, Leander the 
+good swimmer, Troilus the first employer of 
+pandars, and a whole bookful of these quon- 
+dam carpet-mongers, whose names yet run 
+smoothly in the even road of a blank verse, 
+why, they were never so truly turned over and 
+over as my poor self in love. Marry, I cannot 
+show it in rhyme; I have tried: I can find out 
+no ‘rhyme to ‘lady’ but ‘baby,’ an innocent 
+rhyme; for ‘scorn,’ ‘horn,’ a hard rhyme; for 
+‘school,’ ‘fool,’ a babbling rhyme; very om- 
+mous endings: no, I was not born under a 
+rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo in festival 
+terms. 4| 
+
+
+[Sings] 
+
+
+Enter BEATRICE. 
+
+
+Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when J 
+called thee? 
+
+Beat. Yea, signior, and depart when you 
+bid me. 
+
+Bene. O, stay but till then! 
+
+Beat. “Then’ is spoken; fare you well 
+now; and yet, ere I go, let me go with that.I 
+came; which is, with knowing what hath 
+passed between you and Claudio. 
+
+Bene. Only foul words; and thereupon I 
+will kiss thee. 51 
+
+Beat. Foul words is but foul wind, and 
+foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath 
+is noisome;, therefore I will depart unkissed. 
+
+Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of 
+his right sense, so forcible is thy wit. But I 
+must tell thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my 
+challenge; and either | must shortly hear from 
+him, or I will subscribe him a coward. And, 
+I pray thee now, tell me for which of my bad 
+parts didst thou first fall in love with me? 61 
+
+Beat. For them all together; which main- 
+tained so politic a state of evil that they will 
+not admit any good part to intermingle with 
+them. But for which of my good parts did 
+you first suffer love for me? 
+
+Bene. Suffer love! a good epithet! I do 
+ee love indeed, for I love thee against my 
+will, 
+
+Beat, In spite of your heart, I think; alas, 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. Il] 
+
+
+poor heart! If you spite it for my sake, I will 
+spite it for yours; for I will never love that 
+which my friend hates. 
+
+Bene. Thou and I are too wise to woo 
+peaceably. 
+
+Beat. It appears not in this confession: 
+there’s not one wise man among twenty that 
+will praise himself. 
+
+Bene. An old, an old instance, Beatrice, 
+that lived in the time of good neighbours. If 
+a man do not erect in this age his own tomb 
+ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monu- 
+ment than the bell rings and the widow weeps. 
+
+Beat. And how long is that, think you? 
+
+Bene. Question: why, an hour in clamour 
+and a quarter in rheum: therefore is it most 
+expedient for the wise, if Don Worm, his con- 
+science, find no impediment to the contrary, to 
+be the trumpet of his own virtues, as | am to 
+myself. So much for praising myself, who, I 
+myself will bear witness, is praiseworthy: and 
+
+- now tell me, how doth your cousin? 91 
+
+Beat. Very ill. 
+
+Bene. And how do you? 
+
+Beat. Very ill too. 
+
+Bene. Serve God, love me and mend. There 
+
+
+will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste. 
+Enter Ursuta. 
+
+
+Urs. Madam, you must come to your uncle, 
+Yonder’s old coil at’ home: it is proved my 
+Lady Hero hath been falsely accused, the 
+prince and Claudio mightily abused; and Don 
+John is the author of all, who is fled and gone. 
+Will you come presently ? 
+
+Beat. Will you go hear this news, signior? 
+
+Bene. I will live in thy heart, die in thy 
+lap and be buried in thy eyes; and moreover 
+I will go with thee to thy uncle’s. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. A church. 
+
+
+Enter Don Pepro, Craupio, and three or 
+four with tapers. 
+Claud. Is this the monument of Leonato? 
+A Lord. It is, my lord. 
+Claud. [Reading out of a scroll] 
+Done to death by slanderous tongues 
+Was the Hero that here lies: 
+Death, in guerdon of her wrongs, 
+Gives her fame which never dies. 
+So the life that died with shame 
+Lives in death with glorious fame. 
+Hang thou there upon the tomb, 
+Praising her when I am dumb. 10 
+
+
+Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn. 
+
+
+Sone. 
+
+
+Pardon, goddess of the night, 
+Those that slew thy virgin knight; 
+
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+161 
+
+
+For the which, with songs of woe, 
+Round about her tomb they go. 
+Midnight, assist our moan; 
+Help us to sigh and groan, 
+Heavily, heavily: 
+Graves, yawn and yield your dead, 
+Till death be uttered, 2 
+Heavily, heavily. 
+Claud. Now, unto thy bones good night! 
+Yearly will I do this rite. 
+D. Pedro. Good morrow, masters; 
+your torches out: 
+The wolves have prey’d; and look, the 
+gentle day, 
+Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about 
+Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey. 
+Thanks to you all, and leave us: fare you well. 
+Claud. Good morrow, masters: each his 
+several way. 
+D. Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on 
+other weeds; 30 
+And then to Leonato’s we will go. 
+Claud. And Hymen now with luckier issue 
+
+
+put 
+
+
+speed ’s 
+Than this for whom we render’d up this 
+woe. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. A room in LEonaATo’s house. 
+
+
+Enter Leonato, ANTONIO, BENEDICK, BEa- 
+TRICE, MarcareT, UrRSULA, FRIAR FRAN: 
+cis, and Hero. 
+
+
+Friar. Did I not tell you she was innocent? 
+Leon. So are the prince and Claudio, who 
+accused her 
+Upon the error that you heard debated: 
+But Margaret was in some fault for this, 
+Although against her will, as it appears 
+In the true course of all the question, 
+Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort 
+so well. 
+Bene. And so am I, being else by faith 
+enforced 
+To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. 
+Leon. Well, daughter, and you gentlewo- 
+men all, 10 
+Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves, 
+And when I send for you, come hither mask'd. 
+[Exeunt Ladies. 
+The prince and Claudio promised by this hour 
+To visit me. You know your office, brother: 
+You must be father to your brother’s daughter, 
+And give her to young Claudio. 
+Ant. Which I will do with confirm'd coun: 
+tenance. 
+Bene. Friar, I must entreat your pains, | 
+think. 
+Friar. To do what, signior ? 
+Bene. To bind me, or undo me; one of 
+
+
+them. 20 
+
+
+162 
+
+
+Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior, 
+Your niece regards me with an eye of favour. 
+Leon. That eye my daughter lent her: ’tis 
+most true. 
+Bene. And I dowith an eye of love requite 
+her, 
+Leon. The sight whereof I think you had 
+from me, 
+From Claudio and the prince: but what's your 
+will > 
+Bene. Your answer, sir, is enigmatical: 
+But, for my will, my will is your good will 
+May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin’d 
+In the state of honourable marriage: 30 
+In which, good friar, I shall desire your help, 
+Leon. My heart is with your liking. 
+Friar. And my help. 
+
+
+Here comes the prince and Claudio, 
+
+
+Enter Don Pepro and Craupio, and two or 
+three others. 
+
+
+D. Pedro. Good morrow to this fair assem- 
+bly. 
+Leon. Good morrow, prince; good morrow, 
+Claudio; 
+We here attend you. Are you yet determined 
+To-day to marry with my brother's daughter > 
+Claud. I'll hold my mind, were she an 
+Ethiope. 
+Leon. Call her forth, brother; here's the 
+friar ready. [Exit Antonio, 
+D. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick. Why, 
+what's the matter, 40 
+That you have such a February face, 
+So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness? 
+Claud. I think he thinks upon the savage 
+bull. 
+Tush, fear not, man; we 'l tip thy horns with 
+gold 
+And all Europa shall rejoice at thee, 
+As once Europa did at lusty Jove, 
+
+
+When he would play the noble beast in love. | 
+
+
+Bene. Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low; 
+And some such strange bull leap’d “your 
+father’s cow, 
+And got a calf in that same noble feat 50 
+Much like to you, for you have just his bleat. 
+Claud. For this I owe you: here comes 
+other reckonings, 
+
+
+Re-enter ANTONIO, with the Ladies masked. 
+
+
+Which is the lady I must seize upon? 
+Ant. This same is she, and I do give you 
+
+
+er. 
+
+Claud. Why, then she’s mine. Sweet, let 
+me see your face. 
+
+Leon. No, that you shall not, till you take 
+her hand 
+
+
+‘MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+[Acr V, Sc. IV 
+
+
+Before this friar and swear to marry her. 
+Claud. Give me your hand: before this 
+holy friar, 
+I am your husband, if you like of me. 
+Hero. And when I lived, I was your other 
+
+
+wife: [Unmasking. 60 
+And when you loved, you were my other 
+husband. F 
+Claud. Another Hero! 
+Hero. Nothing certainer: 
+
+
+One Hero died defiled, but I do live, 
+And surely as I live, I am a maid. 
+D. Pedro. The former Hero! Hero that 
+is dead! 
+Leon. She died, my lord, but whiles her 
+slander lived. 
+Friar. All this amazement can | qualify ; 
+When after that the holy rites are ended, 
+I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death: 
+
+
+Meantime let wonder seem familiar, 70 
+And to the chapel let us presently, 
+Bene. Soft and fair, friar, Which is 
+
+
+Beatrice? 
+
+Beat. [Unmasking] | answer to that name. 
+What is your will? 
+
+Bene. Do not you love me? 
+
+
+Beat, Why, no; no more than reason. 
+Bene. Why, then your uncle and the prince 
+and Claudio 
+
+
+Have been deceived; they swore you did, 
+Beat. Do not you love me? 
+Bene. Troth, no; no more than reason. 
+Beat. Why, then my cousin Margaret and 
+Ursula 
+Are meee deceived; for they did swear you 
+id, 2 
+Ben. They swore that you were almost sick 
+for me. 
+Beat. They swore that you were well-nigh 
+dead for me, 
+Bene. "Tis no such matter. Then you do 
+not love me? 
+Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompense. 
+Leon. Come, cousin, I am sure you love 
+the gentleman. 
+Claud. And I'll be sworn upon’t that he 
+loves her; 
+For here's a paper written in his hand, 
+A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, 
+Fashion’d to Beatrice. 
+Hero. And here’s another 
+Writ in my cousin’s hand, stolen from her 
+pocket, 
+Containing her affection unto Benedick. 90 
+Bene. A miracle! here's our own hands 
+against our hearts. Come, I will have thee; 
+but, by this light, I take thee for pity. 
+Beat. 1 would not deny you; but, by this 
+good day, I yield upon great persuasion; and 
+
+
+| 
+: 
+| 
+
+
+\ ee 
+
+
+oa") 
+
+
+Acr V, Sc. IV] 
+
+
+MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
+
+
+™® 
+
+
+163° 
+
+
+partly to save your life, for I was told you 
+were in a consumption. 
+Bene. Peace! I will stop your mouth. 
+[Kissing her. 
+D. Pedro. How dost thou, Benedick, the 
+married man? 100 
+Bene. I'll tell thee what, prince; a college 
+of wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my 
+humour. Dost thou think I care for a satire 
+or an epigram? No: if a man will be beaten 
+with brains, a’ shall wear nothing handsome 
+
+
+about him. In brief, since I do purpose to 
+
+
+\, 
+
+
+marry, I will think nothing to any purpose 
+that the world can say against it; and there- 
+fore never flout at me for what I have said 
+against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this 
+is my conclusion. For thy part, Claudio, I did 
+think to have beaten thee; but in that thou art 
+like to be my kinsman, live unbruised and love 
+my cousin. 
+
+Claud. I had well hoped thou wouldst have 
+denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgelled 
+
+
+thee out-of thy single life, to make thee a 
+double-dealer; which, out of question, thou 
+wilt be, if my cousin do not look exceeding 
+narrowly to thee. 
+
+Bene. Come, come, we are friends: let’s 
+have a dance ere we are married, that we may 
+lighten our own hearts and our wives’ heels. 
+
+Leon. We'll have dancing afterward. 
+
+Bene. First, of my word; therefore play, 
+music. Prince, thou art sad; get thee a wife, 
+get thee a wife: there is no staff more rev- 
+erend than one tipped with horn. 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+Mess. My lord, your brother John is ta’em 
+in flight, 
+And brought with armed men back to Messina. 
+Bene. Think not on him tll to-morrow: 
+I ‘ll devise thee brave punishments for him. 
+Strike up, pipers. [ Dance. 
+[Exeuni. 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST 
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSON/E 
+
+
+Ferpinanp, king of Navarre. 
+
+
+Biron, 
+
+LoNGAVILLE, ¢ lords attending on the King. 
+
+Dumain, j 
+
+Boyer, lords attending on the Princess 
+
+MERCcADE, t of France, 
+
+Don ApriANo pe ARMADO, a fantastical 
+Spaniard. 
+
+
+Sir NATHANIEL, a curate. 
+HoLoFreRNEs, a schoolmaster. 
+DuLL, a constable. 
+
+
+ACT 1. 
+
+
+Scene I. The king of Navarre’s park. 
+Enter FERDINAND, king of NAVARRE, BIRON, 
+LoNGAVILLE, and DuMAIN. 
+
+
+King. Let fame, that all hunt after in their 
+lives, 
+Live register’'d upon our brazen tombs 
+Aad then grace us in the disgrace of death; 
+When, spite of cormorant devouring Time, 
+The endeavour of this present breath may buy 
+‘That honour which shall bate his scythe’s 
+keen edge 
+And make us heirs of all eternity. 
+Therefore, brave conquerors,—for so you are, 
+That war against your own affections 
+And the huge army of the world’s desires,—10 
+Our late edict shall strongly stand in force: 
+Navarre shall be the wonder of the world; 
+Our court shall be a little Academe, 
+Still and contemplative in living art. 
+You three, Biron, Dumain, and Longaville, 
+fave sworn for three years’ term to live with 
+me 
+My fellow-scholars and to keep those statutes 
+That are recorded in this schedule here: 
+Your oaths are pass’d; and now subscribe 
+your names, 
+That his own hand may strike his honour down 
+That violates the smallest branch herein: 21 
+If you are arm’d to do as sworn to do, 
+Subscribe to your deep oaths, and keep it too. 
+Long. I am resolved; ’tis but a three years’ 
+fast: 
+The mind shall banquet, though the body pine: 
+Fat paunches have lean pates, and dainty bits 
+Make rich the ribs, but bankrupt quite the wits. 
+Dum. My loving lord, Dumain is mortified: 
+The grosser manner of the8e world’s delights 
+
+
+1A4 
+
+
+COSTARD, a clown. 
+Motu, page to Armado, 
+A Forester. 
+The PRrincEss of France. 
+ROosALINE, 
+Maria, . 
+KATHARINE, : 
+JAQUENETTA, a country wench. 
+i 
+
+
+) ladies attending on the 
+Princess, ~ 
+
+
+Lords, Aitendants, &c. 
+Scene: Navarre. 
+
+
+He throws upon the gross world’s baser slaves: 
+To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die; 
+With all these living in philosophy. 
+
+Biron. I can but say their protestation over; 
+So much, dear liege, I have already sworn, 
+That is, to live and study here three years. 
+But there are other strict observances; 
+As, not to see a woman in that term, 
+Which I hope well is not enrolled there; 
+And one day in a week to touch no food 
+And but one meal on every day beside, 
+The which I hope is not enrolled there; 
+And then to sleep but three hours in the night, 
+And not be seen to wink of all the day— 
+When I was wont to think no harm all night 
+And make a dark night too of half the day— 
+Which I hope well is not enrolled there: 
+
+O, these are barren tasks, too hard to keep, 
+Not to see ladies, study, fast, not sleep! 
+
+King. Your oath is pass’d to pass away 
+
+from these. 
+
+Biron. Let me say no, my liege, an if you — 
+
+please: 
+
+I only swore to study with your grace 
+
+And stay here in your court for three years’ 
+space. 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+Long. You swore to that, Biron, and to 
+the rest. 
+
+Biron. By yea and nay, sir, then I swore 
+in jest. 
+
+
+What is the end of study? let me know. 
+
+King. Why, that to know, which else we 
+should not know. 
+
+Biron. Things hid and barr'd, you mean, 
+from common sense ? } 
+
+King. Ay, that is study's god-like recom- 
+pense. 
+
+Biron. Come on, then; I will swear tc 
+study so, 
+
+
+| de> ed ale 
+
+
+Act I, Sc. I] 
+
+
+LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST 
+
+
+tos 
+
+
+To know the thing I am forbid to know:60 
+As thus,—to study where I well may dine, 
+When I to feast expressly am forbid; 
+Or study where to meet some mistress fine, 
+When mistresses from common sense are hid; 
+Or, havng sworn too hard a keeping oath, 
+Study to break it and not break my troth. 
+If study’s gain be thus and this be so, 
+Study knows that which yet it doth not know: 
+Swear me io this, and | will ne'er say no. 
+King. These be the stops that hinder study 
+quite 7 
+And train our intellects to vain delight. 
+Biron, Why, all delights are vain; but that 
+most vain, 
+Which with pain purchased doth inherit pain: 
+As, painfully to pore upon a book 
+To seek the light of truth; while truth the 
+while 
+. Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look: 
+Light seeking light doth light of light beguile: 
+So, ere you find where light in darkness lies, 
+Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes. 
+Study me how to please the eye indeed 80 
+By fixing it upon a fairer eye, 
+Who dazzling so, that eye shall be his heed 
+And give him light that it was blinded by. 
+Study is like the heaven's glorious sun 
+That will not be deep-search’d with saucy 
+looks: 
+Small have continual plodders ever won 
+Save base authority from others’ books. 
+These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights 
+That give a name to every fixed star 
+Have no more profit of their shining nights 90 
+Than those that walk and wot not what 
+they are. 
+Too much to know is to know nought but fame; 
+«And every godfather can give a name. 
+King. How well he’s read, to reason against 
+2 reading! 
+Dum, Proceeded well, to stop all good pro- 
+ceeding! 
+Long. He weeds the corn and still lets 
+grow the weeding. 
+Biron. The spring is near when green geese 
+are a-breeding. 
+Dum. How follows that? 
+Biron. Fit in his place and time. 
+Dum. In reason nothing. 
+Biron. Something then in rhyme. 
+King. Biron is like an envious sneaping frost 
+s. That bites the first-born infants of 
+the spring. 101 
+Biron. Well, say I am; why should proud 
+summer boast 
+Before the birds have any cause to 
+sing > 
+
+
+Why should I joy in any abortive birth? 
+
+
+At Christmas I no more desire a rose 
+Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled mirth ; 
+But like of each thing that in season grows. 
+So you, to study now it is too late, 
+Climb o’er the house to unlock the little gate. 
+King. Well, sit you out: go home, Biron: 
+adieu. 110 
+Biron. No, my good lord; I have sworn te 
+stay with you: 
+And though I have for barbarism spoke more 
+Than for that angel knowledge you can say, 
+
+
+0| Yet confident I il keep what I have swore 
+
+
+And bide the penace of each three years’ 
+day. 
+Give me the paper; let me read the same; 
+And to the strict’st decrees I'll write my 
+name. 
+
+King. How well this yielding rescues thee 
+
+from shame! 
+
+Biron. [reads]. ‘Item. That no woman shall 
+come within a mile of my court:’ Hath this 
+been proclaimed ? 12t 
+
+Long. Four days ago. 
+
+Biron. Let's see the penalty. [Readsj ‘On 
+pain of losing her tongue.’ Who devised this 
+penalty ? 
+
+Long. Marry, that did I. 
+
+Biron. Sweet lord, and why? 
+
+Long. To fright them hence with that dread 
+
+penalty. 
+
+Biron. A dangerous law against gentility! 
+
+[Reads] ‘Item, If any man be seen to talk 
+with a woman within the term of three years. 
+he shall endure such public shame as the rest 
+of the court can possibly devise.” 
+
+This article, my liege, yourself must break; 
+
+For well you know here comes in embassy 
+The French king’s daughter with yourself to 
+
+speak— 
+
+A maid of grace and complete majesty— 
+About surrender up of Aquitaine 
+
+To her decrepit, sick and bedrid father: 
+Therefore this article is made in vain, 146 
+
+Or vainly comes the admired princess hither. 
+
+King. What say you, lords? why, this was 
+
+quite forgot. 
+
+Biron. 5o study evermore is overshot: 
+While ii doth study to have what it would 
+It doth forget to do the thing it should, 
+And when it hath the thing it hunteth most, 
+*Tis won as towns with fire, so won, so lost. 
+
+King. We must of force dispense with this 
+
+decree; 
+She must lie here on mere necessity. 
+
+Biron. Necessity will make us forsworn 
+Three thousand times within this three years’ 
+
+space; 151 
+For every man with his affects is born, 
+Not by might master’d but by special grace: 
+
+
+166 
+
+
+If I break faith, this word shall speak for me; 
+I am forsworn on ‘mere necessity.” 
+So to the laws at large I write my name: 
+[Subscribes. 
+And he that breaks them in the least degree 
+Stands in attainder of eternal shame: 
+Suggestions are to other as to me; 
+But ! believe, although I seem so loath, 
+I am the last that will last keep his oath, 
+But is there no quick recreation granted > 
+King. Ay, that there is, Our court, you 
+know, is haunted 
+With a refined traveller of Spain; 
+
+A man in all the world’s new fashion planted, 
+That hath a mint of phrases in his brain; 
+One whom the music of his own vain tongue 
+
+Doth ravish like enchanting harmony; 
+A man of complements, whom right and wrong 
+Have chose as umpire of their mutiny: 170 
+This child of fancy that Armado hight 
+For interim to our sudies shall relate 
+To high-born words the worth of many a knight 
+From tawny Spain lost in the world’s debate. 
+How you delight, my lords, I know not, I; 
+But, I protest, I love to hear him lie 
+And I will use him for my minstrelsy. 
+Biron. Armado is a most illustrious wight, 
+A man of fire-new words, fashion’s own knight. 
+Long. Costard the swain and he shall be 
+our sport; 180 
+And so to study, three years is but short. 
+
+
+160 
+
+
+Enter Dutt with a letter, and Costarp, 
+
+
+Dull. Which is the duke’s own person > 
+
+Biron. This, fellow: what wouldst? 
+
+Dull. 1 myself reprehend his own person, 
+for I am his grace’s tharborough; but I would 
+see his own person in flesh and blood. 
+
+Biron. This is he. 
+
+Dull. — Signior Arme—Arme—commends 
+
+you, 
+There's villany abroad; this letter will tell 
+you more, 190 
+
+Cost, Sir, the contempts thereof are as 
+touching me. 
+
+King. A letter from the 
+Amado. 
+
+Biron. How low soever the matter, 
+in God for high words. 
+
+Long. A high hope for a low heaven: God 
+grant us patience! 
+
+Biron. To hear? or forbear laughing > 
+
+Long. To hear meekly, sir, and to laugh 
+moderately; or to forbear both. 200 
+
+Biron. Well, sir, be it as the style shall give 
+us cause to climb in the merriness, 
+
+Cosi The matter is to me, sir, as concerning 
+Jaquenetta. The manner of it is, I was taken 
+with the manner. 
+
+
+magnificent 
+
+
+I hope 
+
+
+LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc, 1 
+
+
+Biron. In what manner? 
+
+Cost, In manner and form following, sir; all 
+those three: I was seen with her in the manor- _ 
+house, sitting with her upon the form, and 
+taken following her into the park; which, put — 
+together, is in manner and form following. 
+Now, sir, for the manner,—it is the manner of 
+a man to speak to a woman: for the form,— 
+in sore form, 
+
+Biron. For the following, sir? 
+
+Cost. As it shall follow in my correction 
+and God defend the right! 
+
+King. Will you hear this letter with 
+attention > 
+
+Biron. As we would hear an oracle. 
+
+Cost. Such is the simplicity of man te 
+hearken after the flesh. 220 
+
+King [reads]. ‘Great deputy, the welkin’s 
+vicegerent and sole dominator of Navarre, my 
+soul’s earth’s god, and body's fostering patron,” 
+
+Cost. Not a word of Costard yet. 
+
+King [reads]. ‘So it is..— 
+
+Cost. It maybe so: but if he say it Is so, 
+he is, in telling true, but so. 
+
+King. Peace! 
+
+Cost. Be to me and every man that dares 
+not fight! 230 
+
+King. No words! 
+
+Cost. Of other men’s secrets, I beseech you. 
+
+King [reads]. ‘So it is, besieged with sable- 
+coloured melancholy, I did commend the black- 
+oppressing humour to the most wholesome 
+physic of thy health-giving air; and, as | am a 
+gentleman, betook myself to walk. The time 
+when. About the sixth hour; when beasts most 
+graze, birds best peck, and men sit down to that — 
+nourishment which is called supper: so much 
+for the time when. Now for the ground which; 
+which, I mean, I walked upon: it is ycleped 
+thy park. Then for the place where; where, | 
+mean, I did encounter that obscene and mos\ — 
+preposterous event, that draweth from my snow- 
+white pen the ebon-coloured ink, which here 
+thou viewest, beholdest, surveyest, or seest: but 
+to the place where; it standeth north-north- 
+east and by east from the west corner of thy 
+curious-knotted garden: there did I see that 
+low-spirited swain, that base minnow of thy 
+mirth, — 251 
+
+Cost. Me? 
+
+King [reads]. ‘that unlettered small-know- 
+ing soul, — 
+
+Cost, Me? 
+
+King [reads]. ‘that shallow vassal,'— 
+
+Cost. Still me ? 
+
+King [reads]. ‘which, as I remember, hight 
+
+stard,— 
+
+Cost. O, me! 260 
+
+King [reads]. ‘sorted ana consorted, contrary 
+
+
+Act 1, Se, I] 
+
+
+LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST 
+
+
+167 
+
+
+tinent canon, which with—O, with—but with 
+this I passion to say wherewith,— 
+
+Cost. With a wench. 
+
+King [reads]. ‘with a child of our grand- 
+mother Eve, a female; or, for thy more sweet 
+understanding, a woman. Him I, as my ever- 
+esteemed duty pricks me on, have sent to thee, 
+to receive the meed of punishment, by thy sweet 
+grace’s officer, Anthony Dull; a man of good 
+repute, carriage, bearing, and estimation. i 
+
+Dull, Me, an’t shall please you; I am 
+Anthony Dull. 
+
+King. [reads]. ‘For Jaquenetta,—so is the 
+weaker vessel called which | apprehended with 
+the aforesaid swain,—I keep her as a vessel of 
+thy law’s fury; and shall, at the least of thy 
+sweet notice, bring her to trial. Thine, in all 
+compliments of devoted and heart-burning heat 
+of duty. Don ApriaNo DE ARMADO.” 
+
+_ Biron. This is not so well as I looked for, 
+but the best that ever I heard. 
+
+King. Ay, the best for the worst. But, 
+sirrah, what say you to this? 
+
+Cost. Sir, I confess the wench. 
+
+King. Did you hear the proclamation? 
+
+Cost. I do confess much of the hearing it, 
+but little of the marking of it. 
+
+King. It was proclaimed a year’s imprison- 
+ment, to be taken with a wench. 290 
+
+Cost. I was taken with none, sir: I was 
+taken with a damsel. 
+
+King. Well, it was proclaimed ‘damsel.’ 
+
+Cost. This was no damsel neither, sir; she 
+was a Virgin. 
+
+> King. It is so varied too; for it was pro- 
+claimed ‘virgin.” 
+
+Cost. If it were, I deny her virginity: I was 
+taken with a maid. 
+
+King. This maid will not serve your turn, 
+sir. 300 
+Cost. This maid will serve my turn, sir. 
+
+King. Sir, I will pronounce your sentence: 
+you shall fast a week with bran and water. 
+
+Cost. I had rather pray a month with mut- 
+ton and porridge. 
+
+King. And Don Armado shall be your 
+keeper. 
+
+My lord Biron, see him deliver’d o'er: 
+And go we, lords, to put in practice that 
+
+Which each to other hath so strongly sworn. 
+
+[Exeunt King, Longaville, and Dumain. 
+
+Biron, I'll lay my head to any good man’s 
+
+hat, 310 
+
+These oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn. 
+Sirrah, come on. 
+
+Cost. I suffer for the truth, sir; for true it is, 
+1 was taken with Jaquenetta, and Jaquenetta 
+is a true girl; and therefore welcome the sour 
+
+
+cup of prosperity! Affliction may one day 
+smile again; and till then, sit thee down, 
+sorrow! [Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene II. The same. 
+Enier Armapo and Morn. 
+
+
+Arm. Boy, what sign is it when a man of 
+great spirit grows melancholy? 
+
+Moth. A great sign, sir, that he will look sad. 
+
+Arm, Why, sadness is one and the self- 
+same thing, dear imp. 
+
+Moth. No, no; O Lord, sir, no. 
+
+Arm. How canst thou part sadness and 
+melancholy, my tender juvenal? 
+
+Moth. By a familiar demonstration of the 
+working, my tough senior, 10 
+
+Arm. Why tough senior? why tough senior ? 
+
+Moth. Why tender juvenal? why tender 
+juvenal ? 
+
+Arm. I spoke it, tender juvenal, as a con- 
+gruent epitheton appertaining to thy young 
+days, which we may nominate tender. 
+
+Moth. And I, tough senior, as an apperti- 
+nent title to your old time, which we may 
+name tough. 
+
+Arm. Pretty and apt. 19 
+
+Moth. How mean you, sir? I pretty, and 
+my saying apt? or | apt, and my saying pretty > 
+
+Arm. Thou pretty, because little, 
+
+Moth, Little pretty, because little. Where- 
+fore apt? 
+
+Arm. And therefore apt, because quick. 
+
+Moth. Speak you this in my praise, master? 
+
+Arm. In thy condign praise. 
+
+Moth. I will praise an eel with the same 
+
+
+praise. 
+Arm, What, that an eel is ingenious? 
+Moth. That an eel is quick. 30 
+
+
+Arm. 1 do say thou art quick in answers: 
+thou heatest my blood. 
+
+Moth, I am answered, sir. 
+
+Arm. I love not to be crossed. 
+
+Moth, [Aside] He speaks the mere contrary; 
+crosses love not him. 
+
+Arm, I have promised to study three years 
+with the duke. 
+
+Moth. You may do it in an hour, sir. 
+
+Arm. Impossible. 
+
+Moth, How many is one thrice told? 
+
+Arm. I am ill at reckoning; it fitteth the 
+spirit of a tapster. 
+
+Moth. You are a gentleman and a gamester, 
+sir. 
+
+Arm. 1 confess beth: they are both the var- 
+nish of a complete man. 
+
+Moth, Then, I am sure, you know how much 
+the gross sum of deuce-ace amounts to. 49 
+
+Arm. It doth amount to one more than two, 
+
+
+Moth. Which the base vulgar do call three 
+
+
+168 
+
+
+LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST 
+
+
+[Act I, Sc. Ih 
+
+
+Arm. True. 
+
+Moth. Why, sir, is this such a piece of 
+study? Now here is three studied, ere ye ‘Il 
+thrice wink: and how easy it is to put years 
+to the word ‘three,’ and study three years in 
+two words, the dancing horse will tell you. 
+
+Arm. A most fine figure! 
+
+Moth. To prove you a cipher. 59 
+
+Arm. | will hereupon confess I am in love: 
+and as it is base for a soldier to love, so am | 
+in love with a base wench. If drawing my 
+sword against the humour of affection would 
+deliver me from the reprobate thought of it, I 
+would take Desire prisoner, and ransom him to 
+any French courtier for a new-devised cour- 
+tesy. I think scorn to sigh: methinks I should 
+
+
+outswear Cupid. Comfort me, boy: what great | some mighty precedent. 
+
+
+men have been in love? 
+Moth. Hercules, master. 
+Arm. Most sweet Hercules! More authority, 
+
+
+And fears by pale white shown: 
+Then if she fear, or be to blame, 
+
+By this you shall not know, 
+For still her cheeks possess the same 
+
+Which native she doth owe. 111 
+A dangerous rhyme, master, against the reason 
+of white and red. 
+
+Arm. Is there not a ballad, boy, of the 
+King and the Beggar? 
+
+Moth. The world was very guilty of such 
+a ballad some three ages since: but I think 
+now ‘tis not to be found; or, if it were, it 
+would neither serve for the writing nor the 
+tune. 119 
+
+Arm. I will have that subject newly writ 
+o'er, that I may example my digression bv 
+Boy, I do love that 
+country girl that I took in the park with the 
+
+
+69 | rational hind Costard: she deserves well. 
+
+
+Moth, [Aside] To be whipped; and yet a 
+
+
+dear boy, name more; and, sweet my child, let} better love than my master, 
+
+
+them be men of good repute and carriage. 
+
+
+Moth. Samson, master: he was a man of | love. 
+
+
+good carriage, great carriage, for he carried the 
+
+
+Arm. Sing, boy; my spirit grows heavy in 
+
+
+Moth. And that’s great marvel, loving a 
+
+
+town-gates on his back like a porter: and he | light wench. 
+
+
+‘was in love. 
+
+Arm. O well-knit Samson! strong-jointed 
+Samson! I do excel thee in my rapier as much 
+as thou didst me in carrying gates. I am in 
+fove, too. Who was Samson’s love, my dear 
+Moth? 
+
+Moth, A woman, master. 
+
+Arm. Of what complexion? 
+
+
+Arm. I say, sing. 130 
+Moth. Forbear till this company be past. 
+
+
+Enter Dutt, Costarp, and JaQUENETTA. 
+Dull. Sir, the duke’s pleasure is, that you 
+
+
+80 | keep Costard safe: and you must suffer him 
+
+
+to take no delight nor no penance; but a’ must 
+fast three days a week. For this damsel, | 
+
+
+Moth. Of all the four, or the three, or the | must keep her at the park: she is allowed for 
+
+
+two, or one of the four. 
+
+Arm. Tell me precisely of what complexion. 
+
+Moth. Of the sea-water green, sir. 
+
+Arm. Is that one of the four complexions? 
+
+Moth. As | have read, sir; and the best of 
+them too. 89 
+
+Arm, Green indeed is the colour of lovers; 
+but to have a love of that colour, methinks 
+Samson had small reason for it. He surely 
+affected her for her wit. 
+
+Moth. It was so, sir; for she had a green 
+wit. 
+
+Arm. My love is most immaculate white 
+and red. 
+
+Moth. Most maculate thoughts, master, are 
+masked under such colours. 
+
+Arm. Define, define, well-educated infant. 
+
+
+the day-womansa Fare you well. 
+Arm. | do betray myself with blushing, 
+Maid! 
+Jaq. Man? 
+Arm. | will visit thee at the lodge. 
+Jaq. That's hereby. 
+Arm. | know where it is situate, 
+Joq. Lord, how wise you are! 
+Arm. I will tell thee wonders, 
+Jaq. With that face? 
+Arm. | love thee. 
+Jaq. So I heard you say. 
+Arm. And so, farewell. 
+Jaq. Fair weather after you! 
+Dull. Come, Jaquenetta, away! 150 
+[Exeunt Dull and Jaquenetta, 
+Arm. Villain, thou shalt fast for thy of- 
+
+
+140 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+Moth. My father’s wit and my mother’s] fences ere thou be pardoned. 
+
+
+101 
+
+
+tongue, assist me! 
+
+
+Cost. Well, sir, I hope, when I do it, I 
+
+
+Arm. Sweet invocation of a child; most] shall do it on a full stomach. 
+
+
+pretty and pathetical! 
+Moth. If she be made of white and red, 
+Her faults will ne’er be known, 
+For blushing cheeks by faults are 
+bred 
+
+
+Arm. Thou shalt be heavily punished. 
+Cost. I am more bound to you than your 
+fellows, for they are but lightly rewarded. 
+Arm. Take away this villain; shut him up. 
+Moth, Come, you transgressing slave; away! 
+
+
+i on 
+Ro ae 
+: 
+
+
+Act Il, Sc. I] 
+
+
+LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST 
+
+
+109 
+
+
+Cost. Let me not be pent up, sir: I will 
+fast, being loose. 16] 
+
+Moth. No, sir; that were fast and loose: 
+thou shalt to prison, 
+
+Cost. Well, if ever I do see the merry days 
+of desolation that I have seen, some shall see. 
+
+Moth. What shall some see? 
+
+Cost. Nay, nothing, Master Moth, but what 
+they look upon. It is not for prisoners to be 
+too silent in their words; and therefore I will 
+say nothing: I thank God I have as little 
+patience as another man; and therefore | can 
+be quiet. [Exeunt Moth and Costard. 
+
+Arm. | do affect the very ground, which is 
+base, when her shoe, which is baser, guided 
+by her foot, which is basest, doth tread. I 
+shall be forsworn, which is a great argument 
+of falsehood, if I love. And how can that be 
+true love which is falsely attempted? Love is 
+a familiar; Love is a devil: there is no evil 
+angel but Love. Yet was Samson so tempted, 
+
+“and he had an excellent strength; yet was Sol- 
+omon so seduced, and he had a very good wit. 
+Cupid’s butt-shaft is too hard for Hercules’ 
+club; and therefore too much odds for a Span- 
+iard’s rapier. The first and second cause will 
+not save my turn; the passado he respects not, 
+the duello he regards not: his disgrace is to 
+be called boy; but his glory is to subdue men. 
+Adieu, valour! rust, rapier! be still, drum! for 
+your manager is in love; yet, he loveth. Assist 
+me, some extemporal god of rhyme, for I am 
+sure I shall turn sonnet. Devise, wit; write, 
+pen; for I am for whole volumes in folio. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+ACT II, 
+
+
+Scene I. The same. 
+
+
+Enter the Princess of France, ROSALINE, 
+Maria, KaTHarine, Boyet, Lords, and 
+other Attendants. 
+
+
+Boyet. Now, madam, summon up your 
+dearest spirits: 
+Consider who the king your father sends, 
+To whom he sends, and what's his embassy: 
+Yourself, held precious in the world’s esteem, 
+To parley with the sole inheritor 
+Of all perfections that a man may owe, 
+Matchless Navarre; the plea of no less weight 
+Than Aquitaine, a dowry for a queen. 
+Be now as prodigal of all dear grace 
+As Nature was in making graces dear 10 
+When she did starve the general world beside 
+And prodigally gave them all to you. 
+Prin. Good Lord Boyet, my _ beauty, 
+though but mean, 
+Needs not the painted flourish of your praise: 
+Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye, 
+
+
+Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen’s tongues: 
+I am less proud to hear you tell my worth 
+Than you much willing to be counted wise 
+In spending your wit in the praise of mine. 
+But now to task the tasker: good Boyet, 20 
+You are not ignorant, all-telling fame 
+Doth noise abroad, Navarre hath made a vow, 
+Till painful study shall outwear three years, 
+No woman may approach his silent court: 
+Therefore to’s seemeth it a needful course 
+Before we enter his forbidden gates, 
+To know his pleasure; and in that behalf, 
+Bold of your worthiness, we single you 
+As our best-moving fair solicitor. 
+Tell him, the daughter of the King of France, 
+On serious business, craving quick dispatch, 
+Importunes personal conference with his grace: 
+Haste, signify so much; while we attend, 
+Like humble-visaged suitors, his high will. 
+Bovyet. Proud of employment, willingly I go. 
+Prin, All pride is willing pride, and yours 
+is so. [Exit Boyet. 
+Who are the votaries, my loving lords, 
+That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke? 
+First Lord. Lord Longayille is one. 
+Prin, Know you the man? 
+Mar. | know him, madam: at a marriage- 
+feast, 
+Between Lord Perigort and the beauteous heir 
+Of Jaques Falconbridge, solemnized 
+In Normandy, saw I this Longaville: 
+A man of sovereign parts he is esteem'd; 
+Well fitted in arts, glorious in arms: 
+Nothing becomes him ill that he would well. 
+The only soil of his fair virtue’s gloss, 
+If virtue’s gloss will stain with any soil, 
+I a sharp wit match’d with too blunt a will: 
+Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still 
+wills 50 
+It should none spare that come within his 
+- power, 
+Prin. Some merry mocking lord, belike; 
+
+
+ist so? 
+
+Mar. They say so most that most his hu- 
+mours know. 
+
+Prin. Such short-lived wits do wither as 
+they grow. 
+
+
+Who are the rest? 
+Kath. The young Dumain; a well-accom:- 
+plished youth, 
+Of all that virtue love for virtue loved: 
+Most power to do most harm, least knowing 
+ill; 
+For he hath wit to make an ill shape good, 
+And shape to win grace though he had no wit 
+I saw him at the Duke Alencon’s once; 63 
+And much too little of that good I saw 
+Is my report to his great worthiness. 
+Ros. Another of these students at that time 
+
+
+170 
+
+
+Was there with him, if I have heard a truth. 
+Biron they call him; but a merrier man, 
+Within the limit of becoming mirth, 
+
+I never spent an hour’s talk withal: 
+
+His eye begets occasion for his wit; 
+
+
+For every object that the one doth catch 70] And suddenly resolve me in my suit. 
+
+
+The other turns’ to a mirth-moving jest, 
+Which his fair tongue, conceit’s expositor, 
+Delivers in such apt and gracious words 
+That aged ears play truant at his tales 
+And younger hearings are quite ravished; 
+So sweet and voluble is his discourse. 
+Prin. God bless my ladies! are they all in 
+love, : 
+That every one her own hath garnished 
+With such bedecking ornaments of praise? 
+First Lord. Here comes Boyet. 
+
+
+Re-enter Boyer. 
+
+
+Prin. Now, what admittance, lord? 
+Boyet. Navarre had notice of your fair ap- 
+proach; 
+And he and his competitors in oath 
+Were all address’d to meet you, gentle lady, 
+Before I came. Marry, thus much I have 
+learnt: 
+He rather means to lodge you in the field, 
+Like one that comes here to besiege his court, 
+Than seek a dispensation for his oath, 
+To let you enter his unpeopled house. 
+Here comes Navarre. 
+
+
+Enter Kinc, Loncavitte, Dumain, Biron, 
+and Attendants. 
+
+
+King. Fair princess, welcome to the court 
+of Navarre, 90 
+Prin. ‘Fair’ I give you back again; and 
+“welcome” I have not yet: the roof of this court 
+is too high to be yours; and welcome to the 
+wide fields too base to be mine. 
+King. You shall be welcome, madam, to 
+my court. 
+Prin. 1 will be welcome, then: conduct me 
+thither. 
+King. Hear me, dear lady; I have sworn 
+an oath, 
+Prin. Our Lady help my lord! he'll be 
+forsworn. ¢ 
+King. Not for the world, fair madam, by 
+my will. 
+Prin. Why, will shall break it; will and 
+nothing else. 100 
+King. Your ladyship is ignorant what it is. 
+Prin. Were my lord so, his ignorance were 
+
+
+wise, 
+Where now his knowledge must prove ignor- 
+ance, 
+¥ hear your grace bath sworn out house- 
+eping: 
+
+
+LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST 
+
+
+"Tis deadly sin to keep that oath, my lord, 
+
+And sin to break it. 
+
+But pardon me, I am too sudden-bold: 
+
+To teach a teacher ill beseemeth me. 
+
+Veouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming, 
+
+110 
+
+King. Madam, | will, if suddenly I may. 
+
+Prin. You will the sooner, that I were 
+away; 
+
+
+For you'll prove perjured if you make me stay. 
+
+
+Biron. Did not I dance with you in Bra- 
+bant once? 
+Ros. Did not I dance with you in Brabant 
+once > 
+Biron. I know you did. 
+Ros. How needless was it then to ask the 
+question! 
+Biron, You must not be so quick. 
+Ros. "Tis "long of you that spur me with 
+such questions. 
+Bion. Your wit's too hot, it speeds too 
+fast, ‘twill tire. 120 
+Ros. Not till it leave the rider in the mire. 
+Biron. What time o' day? 
+Ros. The hour that fools should ask. 
+Biron. Now fair befall your mask! ~ 
+Ros. Fair fall the face it covers! 
+Biron. And send you many lovers! 
+Ros. Amen, so you be none. 
+Biron. Nay, then will I be gone, 
+King. Madam, your father here doth in- 
+timate 
+The payment of a hundred thousand crowns; 
+Being but the one half of ani entire sum 131 
+Disbursed by my father in his wars. 
+But say that he or we, as neither have, 
+Received that sum, yet there remains unpaid 
+A hundred thousand more; in surety of the 
+which, 
+One part of Aquitaine is bound to us, 
+Although not valued to the money’s worth, 
+If then the king your father will restore 
+But that one half which is unsatisfied, 
+We will give up our right in Aquitaine, 140 
+And hold fair friendship with his majesty. 
+But that, it seems, he little purposeth, 
+For here he doth demand to have repaid 
+A hundred thousand crowns; and not de- 
+mands, 
+On payment of a hundred thousand crowns, 
+To have his title live in Aquitaine; 
+Which we much rather had depart withal 
+And have the money by our father lent 
+Than Aquitaine so gelded as it is. 
+Dear princess, were not his requests so far 150 
+From reason’s yielding, your fair self should 
+make 
+A yielding 'gainst some reason in my breast 
+And go well satisfied to France again. 
+
+
+[Act I], Se. I 
+
+
+Act II, Se. I] 
+
+
+LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST 
+
+
+171 
+
+
+Prin. You do the king my father too much 
+wrong 
+And wrong the reputation of your name, 
+In so unseeming to confess receipt 
+Of that which hath so faithfully been paid. 
+King. | do protest I never heard of it; 
+And if you prove it, I "Il repay it back 
+Or yield up Aquitaine, 
+Tin. We arrest your word. 160 
+Boyet, you can produce acquittances 
+For such a sum from special officers 
+Of Charles his father. 
+King, Satisfy me so. 
+Boyet. So please your grace, the packet is 
+not come 
+Where that and other specialties are pound: 
+To-morrow you shall have a sight of them. 
+King. It shall suffice me: at which inter- 
+view 
+All liberal reason « will yield unto. 
+‘Meantime receive such welcome at my hand 
+As honour without breach of honour may 170 
+Make tender of to thy true worthiness: 
+You may not come, ‘air princess, in my 
+gates; 
+But hers without you shall be so received 
+As you shall deem yourself lodged in my 
+_. heart, 
+Though so denied fair harbour in my house. 
+Your own good thoughts excuse me, and fare- 
+well: 
+~ To-morrow shall we visit you again. 
+Prin, Sweet health and fair desires consort 
+your grace! 
+King. Thy own wish wish I thee in every 
+
+
+place! [Exit. 
+Biron. Lady, I will commend you to mine 
+own heart. 180 
+
+
+Ros. Pray you, do my commendations; | 
+would be glad to see it. 
+Biron. I would you heard it groan, 
+Ros. Is the fool sick? 
+Biron. Sick at the heart. 
+Ros. Alack, let it blood. 
+Biron. Would that do it good? 
+Ros. My physic says ‘ay.’ 
+Biron. Will you prick 't with your eye? 
+Ros. No point, with my knife. 190 
+Biron. Now, God save thy life! 
+Ros. And yours from long living! 
+_ Biron. | cannot stay thanksgiving. [Retiring. 
+Dum. Sir, I pray you, a word: what lady 
+is that same? 
+
+
+Boyet. The heir of Alencon, Katharine her 
+
+
+name. 
+Dum. A gallant lady. Monsieur, fare you 
+well, [Exit. 
+Long. ! beseech you a word: what is she in 
+the white? 
+
+
+| 
+| 
+| 
+| 
+| 
+| 
+
+
+Boyet. A woman sometimes, an you saw 
+her in the light. 
+Long. Perchance light in the light. I desire 
+her name. 
+Boyet. She hath’ but one for herself; to de- 
+sire that were a shame. 200 
+Long. Pray you, sir, whose daughter > 
+Boyet. Her mother’s, | have heard, 
+Long. God’s blessing on your beard! 
+Boyet. Good sir, be not offended. 
+She is an heir of Falconbridge. 
+' Long. Nay, my choler is ended, 
+She is a most sweet lady. 
+Boyet. Not unlike, sir, that may be. 
+[Exit Long. 
+What's her name in the cap? 
+Rosaline, by good hap. 210 
+Is she wedded or no? 
+To her will, sir, or so. 
+You are welcome, sir: adieu. 
+Boyet, Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to 
+you. [Exit Biron, 
+Mar. That last is Biron, the merry mad- 
+cap lord: 
+Not a word with him but a jest. 
+Bovet. And every jest but a word. 
+Prin, It was well done of you to take him 
+at his word. 
+Boyet. I was as willing to grapple as he 
+was to board. 
+Mar. Two hot sheeps, marry, 
+Bovet. And wherefore not ships? 
+No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your 
+lips. 220 
+Mar. You sheep, and I pasture: shall that 
+finish the jest? 
+Boyet. So you grant pasture for me. 
+[Offering to hiss her. 
+Mar. Not so, gentle beast: 
+My lips are no common, though several they be. 
+Boyet. Belonging to whom? 
+Mar. To my fortunes and me. 
+Prin. Good wits will be jangling; but, gen- 
+tles, agree: 
+This civil war of wits were much better used 
+On Navarre and his book-men; for here ‘tis 
+abused. 
+Boyet. If my observation, which very sel- 
+dom lies, 
+By the heart's still rhetoric disclosed with eyes, 
+Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected. 230 
+
+
+Biron. 
+Bovyet. 
+Biron. 
+Bovet. 
+Biron. 
+
+
+Prin. With what? 
+Boyet. With that which we lovers entitle 
+affected. 
+
+
+Prin. Your reason? 
+Bovet. Why, all his behaviours did make 
+their retire 
+To the court of his eye, peeping through de- 
+sire: 
+
+
+LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST 
+
+
+172 
+
+His heart, like an agate, with your print im- 
+press’d, 
+
+Proud with his form, in his eye pride ex- 
+press'd: 
+
+
+His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see, 
+Did stumble with haste in his eyesight to be; 
+Alll senses to that sense did make their repair, 
+To feel only looking on fairest of fair: 241 
+Methought all his senses were lock’d in his eye, 
+Ass jewels in crystal for some prince to buy; 
+Who, tendering their own worth from where 
+they were glass'd, 
+Did point you to buy them, along as you 
+pass'd: 
+His face's own margent did quote such amazes 
+That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with 
+gazes. 
+I'll give you Aquitaine and all that is his, 
+An you give him for my sake but one loving 
+kiss, 
+Prin. Come to our pavilion: Boyet is dis- 
+posed. 250 
+Boyet. But to speak that in words which 
+his eye hath disclosed. 
+I only have made a mouth of his eye, 
+By adding a tongue which I know will not lie. 
+Ros. Thou art an old love-monger and 
+speakest skilfully. 
+Mar. He is Cupid’s grandfather and learns 
+news of him. 
+Ros. Then was Venus like her mother, for 
+her father is but grim. 
+Boyet, Do you hear, my mad wenches? 
+Mar. No. 
+Bovet. What then, do you see? 
+Ros. Ay, our way to be gone, 
+
+
+Bovet, You are too hard for me. 
+[Exeunt. 
+ACT III. 
+Scene I. The same, 
+
+
+Enter Armapo and Mortn. 
+
+
+Arm. Warble, child; make passionate my 
+sense of hearing. 
+
+Moth. Concolinel. [Singing. 
+
+Arm. Sweet air! Go, tenderness of years; 
+take this key, give enlargement to the swain, 
+bring him festinately hither: I must employ 
+him in a letter to my love. 
+
+Moth. Master, will you win your love with 
+a French brawl? 
+
+Arm. How meanest thou? brawling in 
+French ? : 10 
+
+Moth. No, my complete master: but to jig 
+off a tune at the tongue’s end, canary to it 
+
+
+with your feet, humour it with turning up your|He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet. 
+
+
+eyelids, sigh a note and sing a note, some- 
+time through the throat, as if you swallowed 
+
+
+[Acr III, Sc. 1 
+
+
+love with singing love, sometime through the 
+nose, as if you snuffed up love by smelling 
+love; with your hat penthouse-like o’er the 
+shop of your eyes; with your arms crossed on 
+your thin-belly doublet like a rabbit on a 
+spit; or your hands in your pocket like a man — 
+after the old painting; and keep not too long 
+in one tune, but a snip and away. These are 
+complements, these are humours; these betray — 
+nice wenches, that would be betrayed without — 
+these; and make them men of note—do you 
+note me?>—that most are affected to these, . 
+
+Arm. How hast thou purchased this ex-— 
+perience ? 
+
+Moth. By my penny of observation. 
+
+Arm. But O,—but O,— 
+
+Moth. “The hobby-horse is forgot.’ 30 — 
+
+Arm. Callest thou my love ‘hobby-horse’?: 
+
+Moth. No, master; the hobby-horse is but 
+a colt, and your love perhaps a hackney. But 
+have you forgot your love? 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+Arm. Almost | had. 
+Moth. Negligent student! learn her by 
+heart. 1 
+
+
+Arm. By heart and in heart, boy. { 
+
+Moth. And out of heart, master: all those 
+three I will prove. 
+
+Arm. What wilt thou prove? 40 
+
+Moth. A man, if I live; and this, by, in, 
+and without, upon the instant; by heart you 
+love her, because your heart cannot come by 
+her; in heart you love her, because your heart 
+is in love with her; and out of heart you love 
+her, being out of heart that you cannot enjoy 
+her. 4 } 
+
+Arm. I am all these three. 
+
+Moth. And three times as much more, and 
+yet nothing at all. 
+
+Arm. Fetch hither the swain: he must carry 
+me a letter. 
+
+Moth. A message well sympathized; a 
+horse to be ambassador for an ass. 
+
+Arm. Ha, ha! what sayest thou? 
+
+Moth, Marry, sir, you must send the ass 
+han the horse, for he is very slow-gaited, But 
+
+go. 
+
+Arm. The way is but short: away! 
+
+Moth. As swift as lead, sir. 
+
+Arm. ‘The meaning, pretty ingenious? 
+Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow? 60 
+
+Moth. Minime, honest master; or rather) 
+
+master, no. 
+
+Arm._1 say lead is slow. 
+
+Moth. You are too swift, sir, to say so: 
+Is that lead slow which is fired from a gun? 
+
+Arm. Sweet smoke of rhetoric! 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+: 
+
+
+that's he: 
+I shoot thee at the swain- 
+
+
+i Acr Ill, Sc.'I] 
+
+
+~ My herald is return'd, 
+
+
+Moth. Thump then and J flee. 
+Arm. A most acute juvenal; yolable and 
+free of grace! 
+By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in 
+thy face: 
+Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place. 
+
+
+70 
+Re-enter Motu with Costarp. 
+
+
+Moth. A wonder, master! here’s a costard 
+
+broken in a shin. 
+
+Arm. Some enigma, some riddle: come, thy 
+
+lenvoy; begin. 
+
+Cost. No egma, no riddle, no l’envoy; no 
+salve tin the mail, sir: O, sir, plantain, a 
+plain plantain! no l'envoy; no l'envoy; no 
+salve, sir, but a plantain! 
+
+Arm, By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; 
+
+
+‘thy. silly thought my spleen; the heaving of 
+
+
+my lungs provokes me to ridiculous smiling. 
+O, pardon me, my stars! Doth the incon- 
+siderate take salve for l'envoy, and the word 
+Yenvoy for a salve? 80 
+Moth. Do the wise think them other? is 
+not l'envoy a salve? 
+Arm. No, page: it is an epilogue or dis- 
+course, to make plain 
+Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been 
+sain, 
+I will example it: 
+
+The fox, the ape and the humble-bee, 
+Were still at odds, being but three. 
+There's the moral. Now the l'envoy. 
+Moth. J will add the l'envoy. 
+
+moral again. 
+Arm. The fox, the ape, the humble-bee, 90 
+; Were still at odds, being but three. 
+Moth. Until the goose came out of door, 
+And stay'd the odds by adding four. 
+
+
+Say the 
+
+
+Now will I begin your moral, and de you 
+
+
+follow with my l’envoy, 
+The fox, the ape and the humble-bee, 
+Were still at odds, being out three. 
+Arm. Until the goose came out of door, 
+Staying the odds by adding four, 
+Moth. A good \'envoy, ending in the goose: 
+would you desire more? 101 
+Cost. The boy hath sold him a bargain, a 
+goose, that's flat. 
+ir, your pennyworth is good, an your goose 
+
+
+e fat. 
+
+To sell a bargain well is as cunning as fast 
+and loose: 
+
+Let me see; a fat Venvoy; ay, that’s a fat 
+goose. 
+
+
+Arm. Come hither, come hither. How did 
+this argument begin? 
+
+Moth, By saying that a costard was broken 
+in a shin, 
+
+
+LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST 
+
+
+173, 
+
+
+[Exit.) Then call’d you for the l'envoy. 
+
+
+Cost. True, and I for a plantain: thus 
+came your argument in; 
+Then the boy’s fat l’envoy, the goose that you 
+bought; 110 
+And he ended the market. 
+Arm. But tell me; how was there a cos- 
+tard broken in a shin? 
+Moth, 1 will tell’ you sensibly. 
+Cost. Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth: I 
+
+
+will speak that l'envoy: 
+
+
+I Costard, running out, that was safely within, 
+
+Fell over the threshold, and broke my shin. 
+
+Arm. We will talk no more of this matter, 
+
+Cost. Till there be more matter in the shin, 
+
+Arm. Sirrah Costard, | will enfranchise 
+thee. 
+
+Cost. O, marry me to one Frances: | smell 
+some l’envoy, some goose, in this. 
+
+Arm. By my sweet soul, I mean setting 
+thee at liberty, enfreedoming thy person: thou 
+wert immured, restrained, captivated, bound. 
+
+Cost, True, true; and now you will be my 
+purgation and let me loose. 
+
+Arm. | give thee thy liberty, set thee from 
+durance; and, in lieu thereof, impose on thee 
+nothing but this: bear this significant [giving a 
+letter] to the country maid Jaquenetta: there 
+is remuneration; for the best ward of mine 
+
+
+honour is rewarding my dependents. Moth, 
+follow. [Exit. 
+Moth. Like the sequel, I. Signior Costard, 
+adieu. 
+Cost. My sweet ounce of man’s flesh! my 
+incony Jew! [Exit Moth. 
+
+
+Now will I look to his remuneration. Re- 
+muneration! QO, that's the Latin word for 
+three farthings: three farthings—remuneration, 
+—‘What's the price of this inkle?’—‘One 
+penny. —No, I'll give you a remuneration:’ 
+why, it carries it, Remuneration! why, it is 
+a fairer name than French crown. I will never 
+buy and sell out of this word. 
+
+
+Enter Biron, 
+
+
+Biron. O, my good knave Costard! exceed- 
+ingly well met. 
+
+Cost. Pray you, sir, how much carnation 
+ribbon may a man buy for a remuneration? 
+
+Biron. What is a remuneration ? 
+
+Cost. Marry, sir, halfpenny farthing. 
+
+Biron. Why, then, three-farthing worth of 
+silk. 150 
+
+Cost. I thank your worship: God be wi’ 
+you! 
+
+Biron. Stay, slave; I must employ thee: 
+As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave, 
+Do one thing for me that I shall entreat. 
+
+Cost, When would you have it done, sir? 
+
+
+174 
+
+
+Biron. This afternoon. 
+Cost. Well, I will do it, sir: fare you well. 
+Biron. Thou knowest not what it is. 
+Cost. I shall know, sir, when I have done it. 
+Biron. Why, villain, thou must know first. 
+Cost. I will come to your worship to-mor- 
+10W morning, 
+Biron. It must be done this afternoon. 
+Hark, slave, it is but this: 
+The princess comes to hunt here im the park, 
+And in her train there is a gentle lady; 
+When tongues speak sweetly, then they name 
+her name, 
+And Rosaline they call her: ask for her; 
+And to her white hand see thou do commend 
+This seal’d-up counsel. There’s thy guerdon ; 
+go. [Giving him a shilling. 
+Cost Gardon, O sweet gardon! better than 
+remuneration, a ‘leven-pence farthing better: 
+most sweet gardon! I will do it, sir, in print. 
+Gardon! Remuneration! [Exit. 
+Biron. And 1], forsooth, I, that 
+have been love’s whip; 
+A very beadle to a humorous sigh; 
+A critic, nay, a night-watch constable; 
+A domineering pedant o’er the boy; 
+Than whom no mortal so magnificent! 180 
+This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward 
+boy; 
+This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid; 
+Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms, 
+The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans, 
+Liege of all loiterers and malcontents, 
+Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces, 
+Sole imperator and great general 
+Of trotting 'paritors:—O my little heart! — 
+And I to be a corporal of his field, 
+And wear his colours like a tumbler’s hoop! 
+What, I! I love! I sue! I seek a wife! 
+A woman, that is like a German clock, 
+Still a-repairing, ever out of frame, 
+And never going aright, being a watch, 
+But being watch'd that it may still go right! 
+Nay, to be perjured, which is worst of all; 
+And, among three, to love the worst of all; 
+A wightly wanton with a velvet brow, 
+With two pitch-balls stuck in her face for 
+eyes; 
+Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed 
+Though Argus were her eunuch and _ her 
+guard: 
+And | to sigh for her! to watch for her! 
+To pray for her! Go to; it is a plague 
+That Cupid will impose for my neglect 
+Of his almighty dreadful little might. 
+Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue and 
+groan: 
+Some men must love my lady and some are 
+xit, 
+
+
+in love! 
+
+
+LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Se. I 
+
+
+ACT IV. 
+
+
+Scene I. The same. 
+
+
+Enter the Princess, and her train, a Forester, 
+Boyet, RosaLine, Maria, and KATHARINE. 
+
+
+Prin. Was that the king, that spurr’d his 
+horse so hard 
+Against the steep uprising of the hill? 
+
+
+Bovet. I know not; but I think it was not 
+he. 
+Prin. Whoe’er a’ was, a’ show'd a mount- 
+ing mind, 
+Well, lords, to-day we shall have our dis- 
+patch: 
+
+
+On Saturday we will return to France, 
+Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush 
+That we must stand and play the murderer in? . 
+For. Hereby, upon the edge of yonder cop- 
+Pice; 
+A stand where you may make the fairest shoot, — 
+Prin. 1 thank my beauty, I am fair that 
+shoot, 114 
+And thereupon thou speak’st the fairest shoot. 
+
+
+For. Pardon me, madam, for I meant 
+not so. 
+Prin, What, what? first praise me and — 
+
+
+again say no? : 
+O short-lived pride! Not fair? alack for woe! — 
+For. Yes, madam, fair. . 
+Prin. Nay, never paint me now: 
+Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the 
+brow. 
+Here, good my glass, take this for telling true: 
+Fair payment for foul words is more than due. 
+For. Nothing but fair is that which you in- 
+
+
+herit. 20 
+Prin. See, see, my beauty will be saved by 
+merit! 
+
+
+O heresy in fair, fit for these days! 
+
+A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair 
+praise. 
+
+But come, the bow: now mercy goes to kill, 
+
+And skooting well is then accounted ill. 
+
+Thus will I save my credit in the shoot: 
+
+Not wounding, pity would not let me do’t: 
+
+If wounding, then it was to show my skill, 
+
+ty ergy for praise than purpose meant to 
+il 
+
+And out of question so it is sometimes, 30 
+
+Glory grows guilty of detested crimes, 
+
+When, for fame’s sake, for praise, an outward 
+part, 
+
+We bend to that the working of the heart; 
+
+As I for praise alone now seek to spill 
+
+The poor deer’s blood, that my heart means 
+no ill. 
+
+Boyet. Do not curst wives hold that self- 
+
+sovereignty 
+
+
+Acr 1V, Se. 1 | 
+
+
+LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST 
+
+
+We. 
+
+
+175 
+
+
+Only for praise sake, when they strive to be 
+Lords o'er their lords? 
+Prin. Only for praise: and praise we may 
+afford 
+To any lady that subdues a lord. 40 
+Bovyet. Here comes a member of the com- 
+monwealth. 
+
+
+Enter Costar. 
+
+
+Cost. God dig-you-den all! 
+which is the head lady? 
+
+
+Pray you, 
+
+
+Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the | 
+
+
+rest that have no heads. 
+Cost. Which is the greatest lady, the high- 
+est? 
+Prin. The thickest and the tallest. 
+Cost. The thickest and the tallest! it is so; 
+truth is truth. 
+An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my 
+wit, 
+One o’ these maids’ girdles for your waist 
+should be fit. 
+Are not you the chief woman? you are the 
+thickest here, 
+Prin. What’s your will, sir? what’s your 
+will? 
+Cost. I have a letter from Monsieur Biron 
+to one Lady Rosaline. 
+Prin. O, thy letter, thy letter! he’s a good 
+friend of mine: 
+
+
+Stand aside, good bearer. Boyet, you can 
+
+
+carve; 
+Break up this capon. 
+Boyet. I am bound to serve. 
+
+
+This letter is mistook, it importeth none here; 
+It is writ to Jaquenetta. 
+
+Prin, We will read it, I swear. 
+Break the neck of the wax, and every one 
+
+give ear, 
+
+Bovet [reads]. ‘By heaven, that thou art 
+fair, is most infallible; true, that thou art 
+beauteous; truth itself, that thou art lovely. 
+More fairer than fair, beautiful than beau- 
+teous, truer than truth itself, have commisera- 
+tion on-thy heroical vassal! The magnanimous 
+and most illustrate king Cophetua set eye upon 
+the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelo- 
+phon; and he it was that might rightly say, 
+Veni, vidi, vici; which to annothanize in the 
+vulgar,—O base and obscure vulgar !—videli- 
+cet, He came, saw, and overcame: he came, 
+one; saw, two; overcame, three. Who came? 
+the king: why did he come? to see: why did 
+he see? to overcome: to whom came he? to 
+the beggar: what saw he? the baggar: who 
+overcame he? the beggar. The conclusion is 
+victory: on whose side? the king’s. The cap- 
+tive is enriched: on whose side? the beggar’s. 
+The catastrophe is a nuptial: on whose side? 
+
+
+the king’s: no, on both in one, or one in 
+both. I am the king; fer so stands the com- 
+parison: thou the beggar; for so witnesseth 
+thy lowliness. Shall 1 command thy love? I 
+may: shall I enforce thy love? I could: shall 
+I entreat thy love? I will. What shalt thou 
+exchange for rags? robes; for tittles? titles; 
+for thyself? me. Thus, expecting thy reply, I 
+profane my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy 
+picture, and my heart on thy every part. Thine, 
+in the dearest design of industry, 
+Don ApriaNo DE ARMADO.’ 
+
+Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar 90 
+
+‘Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his 
+
+
+prey, 
+Submissive fall his princely feet before, 
+
+And he from forage will incline to play: 
+But if thou strive, poor soul wha? art thou then? 
+Food for his rage, repasture for his den. 
+
+Prin. What plume of feathers is he that 
+
+indited this letter? 
+What vane? what weathercock? did you ever 
+hear better? 
+
+Boyet. I am much deceived but J remem- 
+
+ber the style. 
+
+Prin. Else your memory is bad, going o'er 
+
+it erewhile. 
+
+Boyet. This Armado is a Spaniard, oe 
+
+keeps here in court; 100 
+A phantasime, a Mostarcho, and one that 
+makes sport 
+To the prince and his bookmates, 
+
+Prin. Thou fellow, a word: 
+Who gave thee this letter? 
+
+Cost. I told you; my lord, 
+
+Prin, To whom shouldst thou give it? 
+
+Cost, From my lord to my lady. 
+
+Prin. From which lord to which lady? 
+
+Cost. From my lord Biron, a good master 
+
+of mine, 
+To a lady of France that he call’d Rosaline. 
+
+Prin, Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come, 
+
+lords, away. 
+[To Ros.] Here, sweet, put up this; “twill be 
+thine another day. 
+[Exeunt Princess and train. 
+
+
+Boyet. Who is the suitor? who is the 
+suitor ? 
+
+Ros. Shall I teach you to know? 110 
+
+Boyet. Ay, my continent of beauty. 
+
+Ros. Why, she that bears the bow. 
+
+
+Finely put off! 
+Bovet. My lady goes to kill horns; but, if 
+thou marry, 
+Hang me by the neck, if horns that year mis- 
+carry. 
+Finely put on! 
+Ros. Well, then, I am the shooter. 
+Bovet. And who is your deer? 
+
+
+176 
+
+
+come not near. 
+Finely put on, indeed! 
+Mar. You still wrangle with her, Boyet, 
+and she strikes at the brow. 
+
+
+Boyet. But she herself is hit lower: have 
+
+
+I hit her now? 120 
+
+Ros, Shall I come upon thee with an old 
+
+saying, that was a man when King Pepin of 
+
+France was a little boy, as touching the hit 
+it? 
+
+Boyet. So I may answer thee with one’ as 
+old, that was a woman when Queen Guiaover 
+of Britain was a little wench, as touching the 
+hit it, 
+
+Ros. Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it, 
+Thou canst not hit it, my good man. 
+Boyet. An I cannot, cannot, cannot, 
+
+An J cannot, another can. 130 
+
+Cost. By my troth, most pleasant: how both 
+
+did fit it! 
+
+Mar. A mark marvellous well shot, for 
+
+they both did hit it. 
+
+Boyet, A mark! O, mark but that mark! 
+
+A mark, says my lady! 
+Let the mark have a prick in't, to mete at, 
+if it may be. 
+
+Mar. Wide o' the bow hand! i’ faith, 
+
+your hand is out, 
+
+Cost. Indeed, a’ must shoot nearer, or he ‘ll 
+
+ne’er hit the clout, 5 
+
+Boyet. An if my hand be out, then belike 
+
+your hand is in. 
+
+Cost. Then will she get the upshoot by 
+
+cleaving the pin. 
+
+
+ar, Come, come, you talk greasily; your 
+
+
+lips grow foul. 
+Cost. She's too hard for you at pricks, sir: 
+challenge her to bowl. 140 
+Boyet. I fear too much rubbing. Good 
+night, my good owl. 
+[Exeunt Boyet and Maria. 
+
+
+Cost. By my soul, a swain! a must simple 
+
+
+clown! 
+Lord, Lord, how the ladies and I have put 
+him down! 
+
+
+O" my troth, most sweet jests! most incony 
+
+vulgar wit! 
+hen it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, 
+
+as it were, so fit. 
+
+Armado o’ th’ one side,—O, a most dainty 
+man! 
+
+To see him walk before a lady and to bear 
+her fan! 
+
+To see him kiss his hand! and how most 
+sweetly a’ will swear! 
+
+And his page o’ t’ other side, that handful of 
+wit! 
+
+Ah, heavens, it is a most pathetical nit! 
+
+
+150 
+
+
+LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST 
+Tr we. OE Gn wea aa 
+
+
+Ros. If we choose by the horns, yourself Sola, sola! 
+
+
+Be SP ie eel 
+Craier ay an Re 
+
+
+{Act IV, Sc, Il. 
+
+
+t 
+a 
+
+
+[Shout within, — 
+[Exit Costard, running, 
+
+
+~ 
+
+
+Scene Il. The same. 
+
+
+Enter Ho.orernes, Sir NATHANIEL, and _ 
+DuLL. 
+
+
+Nath. Very reverend sport, truly; and done * 
+in the testimony of a good conscience. 
+
+Hol. The deer was, as you know, sanguis, — 
+in blood; ripe as the pomewater, who now _ 
+hangeth like a jewel in the ear of caelo, the 
+sky, the welkin, the heaven; and anon falleth 
+like a crab on the face of terra, the soil, the — 
+land, the earth, 
+
+Nath. Truly, Master Holofernes, the epi- 
+thets are sweetly varied, like a scholar at the” 
+least: but, sir, I assure ye, it was a buck of 
+the first head. 10 
+
+Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo. 
+
+Dull, ’Twas not a haud credo; ‘twas a 
+pricket, :. 
+
+Hol. Most barbarous intimation! yeta kind — 
+of insinuation, as it were, in via, in way, of — 
+explication; facere, as it were, replication, or — 
+rather, ostentare, to show, as it were, his in- — 
+clination, after his undressed, unpolished, un- 
+educated, unpruned, untrained, or rather, — 
+unlettered, or ratherest, unconfirmed fash- 
+ion, to insert again my haud credo for a 
+deer. 208 
+
+Dull, I said the deer was not a haud credo; — 
+"twas a_pricket. 
+
+Hol. Twice-sod simplicity, bis coctus] 
+
+O thou monster Ignorance, how deformed dost 
+thou look! 
+
+Nath. Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties 
+
+that are bred in a book; 
+
+he hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not 
+
+drunk ink: his intellect is not replenished; he 
+
+is only an animal, only sensible in the duller 
+
+parts: } 
+
+And such barren plants are set before us, 
+that we thankful should be, 
+
+Which we of taste and feeling are, for those 
+parts that do fructify in us more than he, 
+
+For as it would ill become me to be vain, 
+indiscreet, or a fool, 31 
+
+So were there a patch set on learning, to see 
+him in a school: 
+
+But omne bene, say I; being of an old father’s 
+mind, 
+
+Many can brook the weather that love not the 
+wind, 
+
+Dull. You two are book-men: can you tell 
+
+me by your wit 
+What was a month old at Cain's birth, that’s 
+not five weeks old as yet? 
+
+
+‘Act IV, Sc. I] 
+
+
+LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST 
+
+
+177 
+
+
+Hol. Dictynna, goodman Dull; Dictynna, 
+
+goodman Dull. 
+
+Dull. What is Dictynna? 
+
+Nath. A title to Phoebe, to Luna, to the 
+moon. 
+
+Hol. The moon was a month old when 
+
+Adam was no more. 40 
+And raught not to five weeks when he came 
+to five-score. 
+The allusion holds in the exchange. 
+
+Dull. *Tis true indeed: the collusion holds 
+
+in the exchange, 
+
+Hol. God comfort thy capacity! I say, the 
+allusion holds in the exchange. 
+
+Dull. And | say, the pollusion holds in the 
+exchange; for the moon is never but a month 
+old: and I say beside that, ‘twas a pricket that 
+
+the princess killed. 49 
+
+Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an ex- 
+\ temporal epitaph on the death of the deer? 
+_ And, to humour the ignorant, call I the deer 
+the princess killed a pricket. 
+
+Nath. Perge, good Master Holofernes, 
+perge; so it shall please you to abrogate scur- 
+rility. 
+
+Hol. J will something affect the letter, for 
+it argues facility. 
+
+The preyful princess pierced and prick’d a 
+pretty pleasing pricket; 
+
+Some say a sore; but not a sore, till now 
+
+made sore with shooting, 
+
+The dogs did yell; put L to sore, then sorel 
+jumps from thicket; 60 
+
+Or pricket sore, or else sorel; the people 
+
+fall a-hooting. 
+
+If sore be sore, then L to sore makes fifty 
+
+. sores one sorel. 
+
+Of one sore I an hundred make by adding 
+but one more L. 
+
+
+Nath. A rare talent! 
+Dull. [Aside] If a talent be a claw, look 
+how he claws him with a talent. 
+
+
+Hol. This is a gift that I have, simple, 
+_ simple; a foolish extravagant spirit, full of 
+forms, figures, shapes, objects, ideas, appre- 
+hensions, motions, revolutions: these are be- 
+got in the ventricle of memory, nourished in 
+the womb of pia mater, and delivered upon 
+the mellowing of occasion. But the gift is 
+good in those in whom it is acute, and I am 
+thankful for it. 
+
+Nath. Sir, I praise the Lord for you: and 
+so may ‘tay parishioners; for their sons are 
+well tutored by you, and their daughters 
+profit very greatly under you: you are a good 
+member of the commonwealth, 79 
+
+Hol. Mehercle, if their sons be ingenuous, 
+they shall want no instruction; if their daugh- 
+ters be capable, I will put it to them: but vir 
+
+
+sapit qui pauca loquitur; a soul feminine sa- 
+luteth us. 
+
+
+Enter JAQUENETTA and CosTARD, 
+
+
+Jaq. God give you good morrow, master 
+Parson. 
+
+Hol. Master Parson, quasi pers-on. An if 
+one should be pierced, which is the one? 
+
+Cost. Marry, master schoolmaster, he that 
+
+is likest to a hogshead. 
+_ Hol. Piercing a hogshead! a good lustre 
+of conceit in a turf of earth; fire enough for 
+a flint, pearl enough for a swine: ‘tis pretty; 
+it is well. 
+
+Jaq. Good master Parson, be so good as 
+read me this letter: it wast given me by Cos: 
+tard, and sent me from Don Armado: I be- 
+seech you, read it. 
+
+Hol. Fauste, precor gelido quando pecus 
+omne sub umbra Ruminat,—and so forth. Ah, 
+good old Mantuan! I may speak of thee as 
+the traveller doth of Venice; 
+
+Venetia, Venetia, 
+
+Chi non ti vede non ti pretia. 100 
+Old Mantuan, old Mantuan! who under- 
+standeth thee not, loves thee not. Ut, re, sol, 
+la, mi, fa. Under pardon, sir, what are the 
+contents? or rather, as Horace says in his— 
+What, my soul, verses? 
+
+Nath. Ay, sir, and very learned. 
+
+Hol. Let me hear a staff, a stanze, a verse; 
+lege, domine. 
+
+Nath. [Reads] 
+
+
+If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear 
+
+
+to love? 
+Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty 
+vow'd! 110 
+Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faith- 
+ful prove; 
+
+
+Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee 
+like osiers bow’d. : 
+Study his bias leaves and makes his book 
+thine eyes, 
+Where all those pleasures live that art 
+would comprehend: 
+If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall 
+suffice; 
+Well learned is that tongue that well can 
+thee commend, 
+All ignorant that soul that sees thee without 
+wonder; 
+Which is to me some praise that I thy 
+parts admire: 
+Thy eye Jove’s lightning fears, thy voice his 
+dreadful thunder, 
+
+
+Which, not to anger bent, is music and 
+
+
+sweet fire. 120 
+Celestial as thou art, O, pardon love this 
+wrong, 
+
+
+178 
+
+
+That sings heaven’s praise with such an 
+earthly tongue. 
+
+Hol. You find not the apostraphas, and so 
+miss the accent: let me supervise the can- 
+zonet. Here are only numbers ratified; but, 
+for the elegancy, facility, and golden cadence 
+of poesy, caret. Ovidius Naso was the man: 
+and why, indeed, Naso, but for smelling out 
+the odoriferous flowers of fancy, the jerks of 
+invention? I[mitari is nothing: so doth the 
+hound his master, the ape his keeper, the 
+tired horse his rider. But, damosella virgin, 
+was this directed to you? 
+
+Jaq. Ay, sir, from one Monsieur Biron, 
+one of the strange queen’s lords. 
+
+Hol. | will overglance the superscript: “To 
+the snow-white hand of the most beauteous 
+Lady Rosaline.” I will look again on the in- 
+tellect of the letter, for the nomination of the 
+party writing to the person written unto: 
+“Your ladyship’s in all desired employment, 
+Biron.’ Sir Nathaniel, this Biron is one of 
+the votaries with the king; and here he hath 
+framed a letter to a sequent of the stranger 
+queen’s, which accidentally. or by the way 
+of progression, hath miscarried. Trip and 
+go, my sweet; deliver this paper into the royal 
+hand of the king: it may concern much. Stay 
+not thy compliment; I forgive thy duty: 
+adieu. 
+
+Jaq. Good Costard, go with me. Sir, 
+God save your life! fami b50 
+
+Cost. Have with thee, my girl. 
+
+[Exeunt Cost. and Jaq. 
+
+Nath. Sir, you have done this in the fear 
+of God, very religiously; and, as a certain 
+father saith— 
+
+Hol. Sir, tell not me of the father; I do 
+fear colourable colours. But to return to 
+the verses: did they please you, Sir Nathan- 
+ie] > 
+
+Nath. Marvellous well for the pen. 
+
+Hol. | do dine to-day at the father’s of a 
+certain pupil of mine; where, if, before re- 
+past, it shall please you to gratify the table 
+with a grace, I will, on my privilege I have 
+with the parents of the foresaid child or pupil, 
+undertake your ben venuto; where I will 
+prove those verses to be very unlearned, 
+neither savouring of poetry, wit, nor inven- 
+tion: I beseech your society. 
+
+Nath. And thank you too; for society, 
+saith the text, is the happiness of life. 
+
+Hol. And, certes, the text most infallibly 
+concludes it. [To Dull] Sir, I do invite you 
+too; you shall not say me nay: pauca verba. 
+Away! the gentles are at their game, and we 
+will to our recreation. 
+
+(Exeunt. 
+
+
+LOVE'S LABOUR’S LOST 
+
+
+Scene III. 
+Enter Biron, with a paper. 
+
+
+Biron. The king he is hunting the deer; I 
+am coursing myself: they have pitched a toil; 
+I am toiling in a pitch,—pitch that defiles; de- 
+file! a foul word. Well, set thee down, sor- 
+row! for so they say the fool said, and so say 
+I, and I the fool: well proved, wit! By the 
+Lord, this love is as mad as Ajax: it kills 
+sheep; it kills me, I a sheep: well proved 
+again o’ my side! I will not love: if I do, 
+hang me; 1’ faith, I will not. O, but her eye, 
+—by this light, but for her eye, I would not 
+love her; yes, for her two eyes. Well, I do 
+nothing in the world but lie, and lie in my 
+throat. By heaven, I do love: and it hath 
+
+
+The same. 
+
+
+taught me to rhyme and to be melancholy ; ° 
+
+
+and here is part of my rhyme, and here my 
+melancholy. Well, she hath one o’ my son- 
+nets already: the clown bore it, the fool sent 
+it, and the lady hath it: sweet clown, sweeter 
+fool, sweetest lady! By the world, I would 
+not care a pin, if the other three were in. 
+Here comes one with a paper: God give him 
+grace to groan! [Stands aside. 21 
+
+
+Enter the King, with a paper. 
+
+
+King. Ay, me! 
+
+Biron. [Aside] Shot, by heaven! Proceed, 
+sweet Cupid: thou hast thumped him with thy 
+bird-bolt under the left pap. In faith, 
+secrets! 
+
+King [reads]. 
+
+So sweet a kigs the golden sun gives not 
+
+To those fresh morning drops upon the rose, 
+As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have 
+
+smote 
+
+The night of dew that on my cheeks down 
+
+flows: 
+Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright 
+
+Through the transparent bosom of the deep, 
+As — thy face through tears of mine give 
+
+ight; 
+
+Thou shinest in every tear that I do weep: 
+No drop but as a coach doth carry thee; 
+
+So ridest thou triumphing in my woe, 
+
+Do but behold the tears that swell in me, 
+
+And they thy glory through my grief will 
+
+show: 
+But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep 
+My tears for glasses, and still make me weep. 
+O queen of queens! how far dost thou excel, 
+No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal 
+tell. 
+How shall she know my griefs>? I'l] drop the 
+paper: 
+Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes 
+here? [Steps aside, 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc. III 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+Act IV, Se. III] 
+
+
+LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST 
+
+
+179 
+
+
+What, Longaville! and reading! listen, ear. 
+
+
+Enter DumaIN, with a paper. 
+
+
+- Biron. Now, im thy likeness, one more fool | Dumain transform'd! four woodcocks in < 
+
+
+appear! 
+Enter LoNcavitte, with a paper. 
+Long. Ay me, I am forsworn! 
+
+
+Biron. Why, he comes in like a perjure, 
+wearing papers. 
+
+
+King. In love, I hope: sweet fellowship in 
+
+
+shame! 
+Biron. One drunkard loves another of the 
+name. 50 
+Long. Am I the first that have been per- 
+jured so? 
+
+
+Biron. I could put thee in comfort. Not by 
+two that I know: 
+Thou makest the triumviry, the corner-cap of 
+
+
+society, 
+The shape of Love’s Tyburn that hangs up 
+simplicity. 
+Long. I fear these stubborn lines lack 
+
+
+power to move. 
+O sweet Maria, empress of my love 
+These numbers will I tear, and write in prose. 
+
+
+dish ! 
+Dum. O most divine Kate ! 
+
+
+Biron, O most profane coxcomb ! 
+
+Dum. By heaven, the wonder in a mortal 
+eye | 
+
+Biron. By earth, she is not, corporal, there 
+you lie. 
+
+Dum. Her amber hair for foul hath amber 
+quoted. 
+
+Biron. An amber-colour'd raven was well 
+noted, 
+
+Dum. As upright as the cedar. 
+
+Biron. Stoop, I say; 
+
+Her shoulder is with child. 
+Dum. As fair as day. 90 
+
+
+Biron. Ay, as some days ; but then no sun 
+must shine, 
+
+Dum. O that I had my wish ! 
+
+Long. And I had mine ! 
+
+King. And I mime too, good Lord ! 
+
+Biron, Amen, so I had mine : is not that a 
+good word ? 
+
+Dum. I would forget her ; but a fever she 
+
+
+Biron. O, rhymes are guards on wanton | Reigns in my blood and will remember'd be. 
+
+
+Cupid’s hose: 
+Disfigure not his slop. 
+Long. This same shall go. [Reads. 
+Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye, 60 
+"Gainst whom the world cannot hold argu- 
+ment, 
+Persuade my heart to this false perjury? 
+Vows for thee broke deserve not punish- 
+ment. 
+A woman I forswore; but I will prove, 
+Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee: 
+My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love; 
+Thy grace being gain’d cures all disgrace 
+in me. 
+Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is: 
+Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth 
+dost shine, 
+Exhalest this vapour-vow; in thee it is: 70 
+If broken then, it is no fault of mine: 
+If by me broke, what foo! is not so wise 
+To lose an oath to win a paradise? 
+Biron. This is the liver-vein, which makes 
+flesh a deity, 
+A green goose a goddess: pure, pure idolatry. 
+God amend us, God amend! we are much 
+out o’ the way. 
+Long. By whom shall I send this 2>— 
+Cédmpany ! stay. [Steps aside. 
+Biron. All hid, all hid; an old infant play. 
+Like a demigod here sit I in the sky, 
+
+
+Biron. A fever in your blood! why, then 
+
+
+Incision 
+Would let her out in saucers: sweet mis- 
+
+prision ! 
+
+Dum. Once more I'll read the ode that I 
+have writ. 
+
+Biron. Once more I'll mark how love can 
+vary wit. 100 
+
+Dum. [reads] 
+
+
+On a day—alack the day !— 
+
+Love, whose month is ever May, 
+
+Spied a blossom passing fair 
+
+Playing in the wanton air : 
+
+Through the velvet leaves the wind, 
+
+All unseen, can passage find ; 
+
+That the lover, sick to death, 
+
+Wish himself the heaven's breath, 
+
+Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow; 
+
+Air, would I might triumph so! ‘110 
+
+But, alack, my hand is sworn 
+
+Ne’er to pluck thee from thy thorn ; 
+
+Vow, alack, for youth unmeet, 
+
+Youth so apt to pluck a sweet ! 
+
+Do not call it sin in me, 
+
+That I am forsworn for thee ; 
+
+Thou for whom Jove would swear 
+
+Juno but an Ethiope were ; 
+
+And deny himself for Jove, 
+
+Turning mortal for thy love. 120 
+This will I send and something else more plain, 
+
+
+And wretched fools’ secrets heedfully o’er-eye. | That shall express my true love's fasting pain, 
+
+
+More sacks to the mill ! 
+
+
+my wish ! 81 
+
+
+O heavens, I have | O, would the king, Biron, and Longaville, 
+
+
+Were lovers too! III, to example ill, 
+
+
+180 
+
+
+LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST 
+
+
+{Acr IV, Sc. II 
+
+
+Would from my forehead wipe a perjured 
+note ; 
+For none offend where all alike do dote. 
+Long. [advancing]. Dumain, thy love is 
+far from charity, 
+That in love's grief desirest society : 
+You may look pale, but I should blush, I know, 
+To be o’erheard and taken napping so. 130 
+King [advancing]. Come, sir, you blush ; 
+as his your case is such ; 
+You chide at him, offending twice as much ; 
+You do not love Maria ; Longaville 
+Did never sonnet for her sake compile, 
+Nor never lay his wreathed arms athwart 
+His loving bosom to keep down his heart, 
+I have been closely shrouded in this bush 
+And mark’d you both and for you both did 
+blush : 
+I heard your guilty rhymes, observed your 
+
+
+fashion, 
+Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your 
+passion : 140 
+
+
+Ay me! says one; O Jove ! the other cries ; 
+One, her hairs were gold, crystal the other's 
+eyes : 
+[To Long.] You would for paradise break 
+faith and troth ; 
+[To Dum.] And Jove, for your love, would 
+infringe an oath. 
+What will Biron say when that he shall hear 
+Faith so infringed, which such zeal did swear ? 
+How will he scorn! how will he spend his 
+wit | 
+How will he triumph, leap and laugh at it ! 
+For all the wealth that ever I did see, 149 
+I would not have him know so much by me. 
+Biron. Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy. 
+[ Advancing. 
+Ah, good my liege, I pray thee, pardon me ! 
+Good heart, what grace hast thou, thus to 
+reprove 
+These worms for loving, that art most in love ? 
+Your eyes do make no coaches ; in your tears 
+There is no certain princess that appears ; 
+You ‘Il not be perjured, ‘tis a hateful thing ; 
+Tush, none. but minstrels like of sonneting ! 
+But are you not ashamed ? nay, are you not, 
+All three of you, to be thus much o’ershot ? 
+You found his mote ; the king your mote did 
+see ; 
+But I a beam do find in each of three. 
+O, what a scene of foolery have I seen, 
+Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow and of teen ! 
+O me, with what strict patience have I sat, 
+To see a king transformed to a gnat ! 
+To see great Hercules whipping a gig, 
+And profound Solomon to tune a jig, 
+And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys, 
+And critic Timon laugh at idle toys | 
+
+
+Where lies thy grief, O, tell me, good Du- 
+main > 
+And, gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain ? 
+And where my liege’s ? all about the breast : 
+A caudle, ho ! 
+King, Too bitter is thy jest. 
+Are we beiray’d thus to thy over-view ? 
+Biron. Not you to me, but I betray’d by 
+you : 
+I, that am honest ; I, that hold it sin 
+To break the vow I am engaged in ; 
+] am betray’d, by keeping company 
+7 With men like men of inconstancy, 180 
+When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme ? 
+Or groan for love ? or spend a minute’s time 
+In pruning me >? When shall you hear that I 
+Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye, 
+A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist, 
+A leg, a limb ? 
+King. Soft ! whither away so fast ? 
+A true man or a thief that gallops so ? 
+Biron. 1 post from love: good lover, let 
+me go. 
+
+
+Enter JAQUENETTA and CosTarD. 
+
+
+Jaq. God bless the king ! 
+King. What present hast thou there ? 
+Cost. Some certain treason. 
+King. | What makes treason here ? 
+Cost. Nay, it makes nothing, sir. 
+King, If it mar nothing neither, 
+The treason and you go in peace away together. 
+Jaq. 1 beseech your grace, let this letter 
+be read : 
+Our parson misdoubts it; ‘twas treason, he 
+said, 
+ing. 
+
+
+190 
+
+
+Biron, read it over. 
+[Giving him the paper, 
+Where hadst thou it ? 
+Jaq. Of Costard. 
+King, Where hadst thou it ? 
+Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adrama- 
+
+
+dio. [Biron tears the letter. 
+
+
+King. How now ! what is in you ? why 
+
+
+dost thou tear it ? 
+
+Biron. A toy, my liege, a toy : your grace 
+needs not fear it. 
+
+Long. It did move him to passion, and 
+therefore let's hear it. 
+
+Dum. It is Biron’s writing, and here is his 
+name. [Gathering up the pieces. 
+
+Biron. [To Costard] Ah, you whoreson 
+loggerhead !_ you were born to do me 
+shame. 
+
+
+Guilty, my lord, guilty ! I confess, I confess. 
+
+
+King, hat ? 
+Biron. That you three fools lack’d me fool 
+to make up the mess : 
+
+
+170 | He, he, and you, and you, my liege, and I, 
+
+
+am 
+
+
+el 
+
+
++ 
+
+
+eee 
+Act IV, Sc. III] 
+
+
+Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die. 
+O, dismiss this audience, and | shall tell you 
+more, 210 
+Dum. Now the number is even. 
+Biron. True, true ; we are four. 
+Will these turtles be gone ? 
+. King. Hence, sirs ; away ! 
+Cost. Walk aside the true folk, and let the 
+traitors stay. 
+[Exeunt Costard and Jaquenetta. 
+Biron. 
+embrace ! 
+As true we are as flesh and blood can be: 
+The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his 
+face ; 
+Young blood doth not obey an old decree : 
+We cannot cross the cause why we were born ; 
+Therefore of all hands must we be forsworn. 
+
+
+King. What, did these rent lines show 
+some love of thine ? 220 
+Biron. Did they, quoth you > Who sees 
+
+
+the heavenly Rosaline, 
+That, like a rude and savage man of Ind, 
+At the first opening of the gorgeous east, 
+Bows not his vassal head and strucken blind 
+Kisses the base ground with obedient 
+breast ? 
+What peremptory eagle-sighted eye 
+Dares look upon the heaven of her brow, 
+That is not blinded by her majesty ? 
+King. What zeal, what fury hath inspired 
+thee now ? 
+
+My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon ; 230 
+She an attending star, scarce seen a light. 
+Biron. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I 
+
+Biron : 
+O, but for my love, day would turn to night ! 
+Of all complexions the cull'd sovereignty 
+Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek, 
+Where several worthies make one dignity, 
+Where nothing wants that want itself doth 
+seek, 
+Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues,— 
+Fie, painted rhetoric | O, she needs it not : 
+To things of sale a seller’s praise belongs, 240 
+She passes praise ; then praise too short 
+doth blot. 
+A wither’d hermit, five-score winters worn, 
+Might shake off fifty, looking in her eye : 
+Beauty doth varnish age, as if new-born, 
+And gives the crutch the cradle’s infancy : 
+O, tis the sun that maketh all things shine. 
+King, By heaven, thy love is black as ebony. 
+Biron. Is ebony like her > O wood divine ! 
+A wife of such wood were felicity. 
+O, who can give an oath ? where is a book ? 
+That I may swear beauty doth beauty lack, 
+lf that she learn not of her eye to look : 
+No face is fair that is not full so black. 
+
+
+LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST 
+
+
+WR 
+
+
+18) 
+
+
+Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O, let us 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+King. O paradox ! Black is the badge of hell, 
+The hue of dungeons and the suit of night ; 
+And beauty’s crest becomes the heavens well. 
+Biron. Devils soonest tempt, resembling 
+spirits of light. 
+O, if in black my lady’s brows be deck’d, 
+It mourns that painting and usurping hair 
+Should ravish doters with a false aspect ; 260 
+And therefore is she born to make black fair. 
+Her favour turns the fashion of the days, 
+For native blood is counted painting now ; 
+And therefore red, that would avoid dispraise, 
+Paints itself black, to imitate her brow. 
+Dum. To look like her are chimney-sweepers 
+
+
+black. 
+Long. And since her 
+counted bright. 
+King. And Ethiopes of their sweet com- 
+plexion crack. 
+Dum. Dark needs no candles now, for 
+dark is light. 
+Biron. Your mistresses dare never come in 
+rain, 270 
+For fear their colours should be wash’d 
+away. 
+King, “Twere good, yours did; for, sir, to 
+tell you plain, 
+I'll find a fairer face not wash’d to-day. 
+Biron. I'll prove her fair, or talk till dooms- 
+day here. 
+King. No devil will fright thee then so 
+much as she. 
+Dum. I never. knew man hold vile stuff so dear. 
+Long. Look, here’s thy love: my foot and 
+her face see. 
+
+
+time are colliers 
+
+
+Biron. OO, if the streets were paved with thine 
+eyes, 
+Her feet were much too dainty for such 
+tread ! 
+Dum. O vile! then, as she goes, what upward 
+lies 280 
+
+
+The street should see as she walk’d over- 
+head, 
+King. But what of this ? are we not all in 
+love ? 
+Biron, Nothing so sure ; and thereby all 
+forsworn. 
+King. Then leave this chat ; and, good Biron, 
+now prove 
+Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn. 
+Dum. Ay, marry, there ; some flattery for 
+this evil. 
+Long. O, some authority how to proceed ; 
+Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the 
+devil. 
+Dum. Some salve for perjury. 
+Biron. "Tis more than need. 
+Have at you, then, affection’s men at arms. 290 
+
+
+| Consider what you first did swear unto, 
+
+
+182 
+
+
+LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST 
+
+
+[tAcr Vv, ‘Se, 1 
+
+
+—_—_— ESSE 
+
+
+To fast, to study, and to see no woman ; 
+Flat treason "gainst the kingly state of youth. 
+
+
+| Never durst poet touch a pen to write 
+Until his ink were temper’d with Love's sighs ; 
+
+
+Say, can you fast? your stomachs are too | O, then his lines would zavish savage ears 
+
+
+young ; 
+And abstinence engenders maladies. 
+And where that you have vow'd to study, lords, 
+In that each of you have forsworn his book, 
+Can you still dream and pore and _ thereon 
+look ? 
+For when would you, my lord, or you, or you, 
+Have found the ground of study’s excellence 
+Without the beauty of a woman's face ? 301 
+[From women's eyes this doctrine | derive ; 
+They are the ground, the books, the academes 
+From whence doth spring the true Promethean 
+fire.] 
+Why, universal plodding poisons up 
+The nimble spirits in the arteries, 
+As motion and long-during action tires 
+The sinewy vigour of the traveller. 
+Now, for not looking on a woman's face, 
+You have in that forsworn the use of eyes 310 
+And study too, the causer of your vow ; 
+For where is any author in the world 
+Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye ? 
+Learning is but an adjunct to ourself 
+And where we are our learning likewise is : 
+Then when ourselves we sce in ladies’ eyes, 
+Do we not likewise see our learning there ? 
+O, we have made a vow to study, lords, 
+And in that vow we have forsworn our books. 
+For when would you, my liege, or you, or you, 
+In leaden contemplation have found out 321 
+Such fiery numbers as the prompting eyes 
+Of beauty’s tutors have enrich’d you with ? 
+Other slow arts entirely keep the brain ; 
+And therefore, finding barren practisers, 
+Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil : 
+But love, first learned in a lady’s eyes, 
+Lives not alone immured in the brain; 
+But, with the motion of all elements, 
+Courses as swift as thought in every power, 330 
+And gives to every power a double power, 
+Above their functions and their offices, 
+It adds a precious seeing to the eye ; 
+A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind ; 
+A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound, 
+When the suspicious head of theft is stopp'd : 
+Love's feeling is more soft and sensible 
+Than are the tender horns of cockled snails; 
+Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in 
+taste : 
+For valour, is not Love a Hercules, 340 
+Still climbing trees in the Hesperides ? 
+Subtle as Sphinx ; as sweet and musical 
+As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair ; 
+And when Love speaks, the voice of all the 
+gods 
+Make heaven drowsy with the harmony. 
+
+
+| And plant in tyrants mild humility. 
+
+From women’s eyes this doctrine I derive : 350 
+
+They sparkle still the right Promethean fire ; 
+
+| They are the books, the arts, the academes, 
+
+That show, contain and nourish all the world : 
+
+Else none at all in aught proves excellent. 
+
+Then fools you were these women to forswear, 
+
+Or keeping what is sworn, you will prove fools, 
+
+For wisdom’s sake, a word that all men love, 
+
+Or for love’s sake, a word that loves all men, 
+
+Or for men’s sake, the authors of these women, 
+
+Or women’s sake, by whom we men are men, 
+
+Let us once lose our oaths to find ourselves, 
+
+Or else we lose ourselves to keep our oaths, 
+
+It is religion to be thus forsworn, 
+
+For charity itself fulfils the law, 
+
+And who can sever love from charity ? 
+King. Saint Cupid, then ! and, soldiers, to 
+
+
+the field ! 
+Biron. Advance your standards, and upon 
+them, lords ; 
+Pell-mell, down with them! but be first 
+advised, 
+
+
+In conflict that you get the sun of them. 
+Long. Now to plain-dealing; lay these 
+glozes by : 370 
+Shall we resolve to woo these girls of France ? 
+King. And win them too : therefore let us 
+devise 
+Some entertainment for them in their tents, 
+Biron, First, from the park let us conduct 
+them thithey ; 
+Then Le every man attach the hand 
+Of his fair mistress : in the afternoon 
+We will with some strange pastime solace them, 
+Such as the shortness of the time can shape ; 
+For revels, dances, masks and merry hours 
+Forerun fair Love, strewing her way with 
+flowers. 380 
+King. Away, away! no time shall be 
+omitted 
+That will betime, and may by us be fitted. 
+Biron. Allons ! allons ! Sow'd cockle reap'd 
+no corn ; 
+And justice always whirls in equal measure : 
+Light wenches may prove plagues to men for- 
+
+
+sworn ; 
+If so, our copper buys no better treasure. 
+[Exeunt. 
+ACT V. 
+Scene I. The same, 
+
+
+Enter Houorernes, Sir NATHANIEL, and 
+Dutt. 
+
+Satis quod sufficit. 
+
+I praise God for you, sir: your 
+
+
+Hol, 
+Nath. 
+
+
+| 
+! 
+
+
+LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST 
+
+
+183 
+
+
+reasons at dinner have been sharp and senten- 
+tious: pleasant without scurrility, witty, without 
+affection, audacious without impudency, learned 
+without opinion, and strange without heresy. 
+I did conyerse this quondam day with a com- 
+panion of the king's, who is intituled, nominated 
+or called, Don Adriano de Armado. 
+
+Hol. Novi hominem tanquam te: his 
+humour is lofty, his discourse peremptory, his 
+tongue filed, his eye ambitious, his gait majes- 
+
+
+tical and his general behaviour vain, ridiculous, \ 
+
+
+and thrasonical. He is too picked, too spruce, 
+too affected, too odd, as it were, too peregri- 
+nate, as I may. call it. 
+_ Nath. A most singular and choice epithet. 
+[Draws out his table-book. 
+Hol. He draweth out the thread of his ver- 
+bosity finer than the staple of his argument. I 
+abhor such fanatical phantasimes, such insoci- 
+able and point-devise companions ; such 
+‘ rackers of orthography, as to speak dout, fine, 
+when he should say doubt; det, when he 
+should pronounce debt,—d, e, b, t, not d, e, t : 
+he clepeth a calf, cauf ; half, hauf ; neigh- 
+bour vocatur nebour ; neigh abbreviated ne. 
+This is abhominable,—which he would call 
+abbominable : it insinuateth {me of insanie : 
+anne intelligis, domine ? to make frantic, luna- 
+lic. 
+Nath. Laus Deo, bene intelligo. 30 
+Hol. Bon, bon, fort bon! Priscian a little 
+scratched, ‘twill serve. 
+Nath, Videsne quis venit ? 
+Hol. Video, et gaudeo. 
+
+
+Enter Armapo, Moti, and Costarp. 
+
+
+Arm, Chirrah ! [To Moth. 
+
+Hol. Quare chirrah, not sirrah ? 
+
+Arm. Men of peace, well encountered, 
+
+Hol. Most military sir, salutation. 
+
+Moth, [Aside to Costard] They have 
+been at a great feast of languages, and stolen 
+the scraps. 40 
+
+Cost. O, they have lived long on the alms- 
+basket of words. I marvel thy master hath not 
+eaten thee for a word; for thou art not so 
+long by the head as honorificabilitudinitatious: 
+thou art easier swallowed than a_ flap- 
+dragon. 
+
+Moth, Peace! the peal begins. 
+
+Arm. [To Hol.] Monsieur, are you not 
+lettered >, 
+
+Moth. Yes, yes;he teaches boys the horn- 
+book. What is a, b, spelt backward, with the 
+horn on his head ? 
+
+Hol. Ba, pueritia, with a horn added, 
+
+Moth. Ba, most silly sheep with a horn. 
+You hear his learning, 
+
+
+Hol. Quis, quis, thou consonant ? 
+
+Moth. The third of the five vowels, if you 
+repeat them ; or the fifth, if I, 
+
+Hol. 1 will repeat them,—a, e, i— 
+
+Moth. The sheep : the other two concludes 
+it,—o, u. 60 
+
+Arm. Now, by the salt wave of the Medi- 
+terraneum, a sweet touch, a quick venue of 
+wit! snip, snap, quick and home! it re- 
+joiceth my intellect ; true wit ! 
+
+Moth. Offered by a child to an old man; 
+which is wit-old. 
+
+
+Hol. What is the figure ? what is the 
+figure > 
+Moth. Horns. 
+
+
+Hol. Thou disputest like an infant; go, 
+whip thy gig, 70 
+
+Moth. Lend me your horn to make one, 
+and I will whip about your infamy circum 
+circa,—a gig of a cuckold’s horn. 
+
+Cost. An I had but one penny in the world, 
+thou shouldst have it to buy gingerbread : hold, 
+there is the very remuneration I had of thy 
+master, thou halfpenny purse of wit, thou 
+pigeon-egg of discretion. ©, an the heavens 
+were so pleased that thou wert but my bastard, 
+what a joyful father wouldst thou make me ! 
+Go to ; thou hast it ad dunghill, at the fingers’ 
+ends, as they say. 
+
+Hol. O,1 smell false Latin ; dunghill for 
+unguem, 
+
+Arm. Arts-man, preambulate, we will be 
+singuled from the barbarous. Do you not 
+educate youth at the charge-house on the top 
+of the mountain ? 
+
+
+Hol. Or mons, the hill, 
+Arm. At your sweet pleasure, for the 
+mountain. 
+
+
+Hol. 1 do, sans question. 91 
+
+Arm. Sir, it is the king’s most sweet 
+pleasure and affection to congratulate the prin- 
+cess at her pavilion in the posteriors of this 
+day, which the rude multitude call the after- 
+noon. 
+
+Hol. The posterior of the day, most gen- 
+erous sir, is liable, congruent and measurable 
+for the afternoon: the word is well culled, 
+chose, sweet and apt, I do assure you, sir, I do 
+assure. 
+
+Arm. Sir, the king is a noble gentleman, 
+and my familiar, I do assure ye, very good 
+friend: for what is inward between us, let it 
+pass. I do beseech thee, remember thy 
+courtesy ; 1 beseech thee, apparel thy head : 
+and among other important and most serious 
+designs, and of great import indeed, too, but 
+let that pass : for I must tell thee, it will please 
+his grace, by the world, sometime to lean upon 
+my poor shoulder. and with his royal finger. 
+
+
+184 
+
+
+LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST 
+
+
+[Acr V, Se, II 
+
+
+thus, dally with my excrement, with my mus- 
+tachio; but, sweet heart, let that pass. By the 
+world, I recount no fable : some certain special 
+honours it pleaseth his greatness to impart to 
+Armado, a soldier, a man of travel, that hath 
+seen the world; but let that pass. The very 
+all of all is,—but, sweet heart, I do implore 
+secrecy,—that the king would have me present 
+the princess, sweet chuck, with some delightful 
+ostentation, or show, or pageant, or antique, or 
+firework. Now, understanding that the curate 
+and your sweet self are good at such eruptions 
+and sudden breaking out of mirth, as it were, 
+I have acquainted you withal, to the end to 
+crave your assistance. 
+
+Hol. Sir, you shall present before her the 
+Nine Worthies. Sir, as concerning some enter- 
+tainment of time, some show in the posterior of 
+this day, to be rendered by our assistants, at 
+the king’s command, and this most gallant, 
+illustrate, and learned gentleman, before the 
+princess ; I say none so fit as to present the 
+Nine Worthies. 3 130 
+
+Nath, Where will you find men worthy 
+enough to present them ? 
+
+Hol. Joshua, yourself ; myself and this 
+gallant gentleman, Judas Maccabeus; this 
+swain, because of his great limb or joint, 
+shall pass Pompey the Great; the page, Her- 
+cules,— 
+
+Arm. Pardon, sir ; error : he is not quantity 
+enough for that Worthy’s thumb: he is not 
+so big as the end of his club. 139 
+
+Hol, Shall I have audience ? he shall 
+present Hercules in minority : his enter and 
+exit shall be strangling a snake ; and I will 
+have an apology for that purpose. 
+
+Moth. An excellent device ! so, if any of 
+the audience hiss, you may cry * Well done, 
+Hercules ! now thou crushest the snake!’ that 
+is the way to make an offence gracious, 
+though few have the grace to do it. 
+
+Arm. For the rest of the Worthies >— 
+
+Hol. J will play three myself. 150 
+
+Moth. Thrice-worthy gentleman | 
+
+Arm. ‘Shall I tell you a thing ? 
+
+Hol. We attend. 
+
+Arm. We will have, if this fadge not, an 
+antique. I beseech you, follow. 
+
+Hol. Via, good man Dull! thou hast spoken 
+no word all this while. 
+
+Dull. Nor understood none neither, sir. 
+
+Hol. Allons ! we will employ thee. 
+
+Dull. I'll make one in a dance, or so; or 
+
+I will play 160 
+On the tabor to the Worthies, and let them 
+dance the hay. 
+
+Hol. Most dull, honest Dull ! 
+
+
+sport. away ! 
+
+
+To our 
+TExeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. The same, 
+
+
+Enter the Princess, KATHARINE, ROSALINE, 
+and Maria, 
+
+
+Prin. Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we 
+depart, 
+If fairings come thus plentifully in : 
+A lady wall’d about witth diamonds ! 
+Look you what I have from the loving king, 
+
+
+Ros. Madame, came nothing else along 
+with that > 
+
+Prin. Nothing but this ! yes, as much love 
+in rhyme 
+
+
+As would be cramm'd up in a sheet of paper, 
+Writ o’ both sides the leaf, margent and all, 
+That he was fain to seal on Cupid’s name. 
+Ros. That was the way to make his god. 
+head wax, 10°' 
+For he hath been five thousand years a boy, 
+Kath. Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows 
+too. 
+Ros. You'll ne'er be friends with him; a’ 
+kill’d your sister. 
+oh, He made her melancholy, sad, and 
+cAVY 5 
+And so she died : had she been light, like you, 
+Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit, 
+She might ha’ been a grandam ere she died : 
+And so may you ; for a light heart lives long. 
+Ros. What's your dark meaning, mouse, of 
+this light word ? 
+Kath. A light condition in a beauty dark. 
+Ros. We need more light to find your 
+meaning out, 
+Kath. You'll mar the light by taking it in 
+snuff ; 
+Therefore I'll darkly end the argument. 
+Ros, Look, what you do, you do it still i’ 
+the dark. 
+Kath. So do not you, for you are a light 
+wench. 
+Ros. Indeed I weigh not you, and there- 
+fore light. 
+Kath. You weigh me not? O, that’s you 
+care not for me. 
+
+
+os. Great reason ; for ‘past cure is still 
+past care.” 
+
+Prin. Well bandied both; a set of wit 
+well play’d. 
+
+
+But, Rosaline, you have favour too: 30 
+Who sent it ? and what is it ? 
+
+Ros, I would you knew : 
+An if my face were but as fair as yours, 
+My favour were as great ; be witness this. 
+Nay, I have verses too, I thank Biron : 
+The numbers true ; and, were the numbering 
+
+too, 
+
+I were the fairest goddess on the ground : 
+I am compared to twenty thousand fairs, 
+
+
+Act V, Sc, II] 
+
+
+LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST 
+
+
+185 
+
+
+O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter! 
+Prin. Any thing like ? 
+Ros. Much in the letters ; nothing in the 
+praise. 40 
+Prin. Beauteous as ink ; a good conclusion. 
+Kath, Fair as a text B in a copy-book. 
+Ros. ‘Ware pencils, ho! let me not die 
+your debtor, 
+O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter! 
+O that your face were not so full of O's ! 
+Kath. A pox of that jest! and I beshrew 
+all shrows, 
+Prin. But, Katherine, what was sent to 
+you from fair Dumain ? 
+Kath. Madam, this glove. 
+
+Prin. Did he not send you twain ? 
+Kath. Yes, madam, and moreover 
+Some thousand verses of a faithful lover, 50 
+
+A huge translation of hypocrisy, 
+Vilely compiled, profound simplicity. 
+-Mar. This and these pearls to me sent 
+_ Longaville : 
+The letter is too long by half a mile. 
+Prin. I think no less. Dost thou not wish 
+in heart 
+The chain were longer and the letter short ? 
+Mar. Ay, or I would these hands might 
+never part, 
+Prin. We are wise girls to mock our lovers so. 
+Ros. They are worse fools to purchase 
+mocking so. 
+That same Biron I'll torture ere I go: 60 
+O that I knew he were but in by the week ! 
+How I would make him fawn and beg and seek 
+And wait the season and observe the times 
+And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhymes 
+And shape his service wholly to my hests 
+And make him proud to make me proud that 
+jests ! 
+{So perttaunt-like would I o’ersway his state 
+That he should be my fool and I his fate. 
+Prin. None are so surely caught, when they 
+are catch’d, 
+
+
+_ As wit turn’d fool : folly, in wisdom hatch'd, 
+
+
+Hath wisdom’s warrant and the help of school 
+And wit's own grace to grace a learned fool. 
+Ros. The blood of youth burns not with 
+such excess 
+As gravity’s revolt to wantonness. 
+Mar. Folly in fools bears not so strong a 
+note 
+As foolery in the wise, when wit doth dote ; 
+Since allthe power thereof it doth apply 
+To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity. 
+
+
+Prin. Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in 
+his face. 
+Enter Boyer. 
+Bovyel. 
+
+
+O, I am stabb’d with laughter! 
+Where’s her grace ? 80 
+
+
+Prin. Thy news, Boyet > 
+Bovet. Prepare, madam, prepare ! 
+Arm, wenches, arm ! encounters mounted are 
+Against your peace: Love doth approach 
+disguised, 
+Armed in arguments; you'll be surprised: 
+Muster your wits ; stand in your own defence ; 
+Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence. 
+Prin. Saint Denis to Saint Cupid ! What 
+are they 
+‘That charge their breath against us? say, 
+scout, say. 
+Bovet. Under the cool shade of a sycamore 
+I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour ; 
+When, lo! to interrupt my purposed rest, 91 
+Toward that shade I might behold addrest 
+The king and his companions : warily 
+I stole into a neighbour thicket by, 
+And overheard what you shall overhear ; 
+That, by and by, disguised they will be here. 
+Their herald is a pretty knavish page, 
+That well by heart hath conn'd his embassage : 
+Action and accent did they teach him there ; 
+‘Thus must thou speak,’ and * thus thy body 
+bear :” 100 
+And ever and anon they made a doubt 
+Presence majestical would put him out ; 
+‘For,’ quoth the king, * an angel shalt thou see ; 
+Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously.’ 
+The boy replied, ‘ An angel is not evil ; 
+I should have fear’d her had she been a devil.’ 
+With that, all laugh'd and clapp’d him on 
+the shoulder, 
+Making the bold wag by their praises bolder : 
+One rubb'd his elbow thus, and fleer’d and 
+swore 
+A better speech was never spoke before ; 110 
+Another, with his finger and his thumb, 
+Cried, “Via! we will do’t come what will 
+come ;’ 
+The third he caper’d, and cried, * All goes 
+well ;’ 
+The fourth turn’d on the toe, and down he fell. 
+With that, they all did tumble on the ground, 
+With such a zealous laughter, so profound, 
+That in this spleen ridiculous appears, 
+To check their folly, passion’s solemn tears. 
+
+
+Prin. But what, but what, come they to 
+visit us ? 
+Boyet. They do, they do; and are ap- 
+
+
+parell’d thus, 120 
+
+Like Muscovites or Russians, as | guess. 
+
+Their purpose is to parle, to court and dance ; 
+
+And every one his love-feat will advance 
+
+Unto his several mistress, which they ‘Il know 
+
+By favours several which they did bestow. 
+Prin. And will they so ? the gallants shall 
+
+be task’d ; 
+
+
+For, ladies, we will every one be mask'd ; 
+
+
+486 
+
+
+LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST 
+
+
+[Aer V, Se. 
+
+
+And not a man of them shall have the grace, 
+Despite of suit, to see a lady’s face. 
+Hold, Rosaline, this favour thou shalt wear, 
+And then the king will court thee for his dear ; 
+Hold, take thou this, my sweet, and give me 
+thine, 
+So shall Biron take me for Rosaline. 
+And change you favours too: so shall your 
+loves 
+Woo contrary, deceived by these removes. 
+Ros, Come on, then; wear the favours 
+most in sight. 
+Kath. But in this changing what is your 
+intent ? 
+Prin. The effect of my intent is to cross 
+theirs : 
+They do it but in mocking merriment ; 
+And mock for mock is only my intent. 
+Their several counsels they unbosom shall 
+To loves mistook, and so be mock’d withal 
+Upon the next occasion that we meet, 
+With visages display'd, to talk and greet. 
+Ros. But shall we dance, if they desire us 
+to 't? 
+Prin. No, to the death, we will not move 
+a foot ; 
+Nor to their penn’d speech render we no grace, 
+But while "tis spoke each turn away her face. 
+Boyet. Why, that contempt will kill the 
+speaker’s heart, 
+And quite divorce his memory from his part. 
+Prin. Therefore I do it; and I make no 
+doubt 
+The rest will ne’er come in, if he be out, 
+There’s no such sport as sport by sport o’er- 
+thrown, 
+To make theirs ours and ours none but our 
+own : : 
+So shall we stay, mocking intended game, 
+And they, well mock’d, depart away with 
+shame. [Trumpets sound within. 
+Bovet. The trumpet sounds : be mask’d ; 
+the maskers come. 
+Enter Blackamoors with music; Motu; the 
+King, Biron, LoNGAvILLE, and Dumain, 
+in Russian habits, and masked. 
+Moth. All hail, the richest beauties on the 
+earth! — 
+Boyet. Beauties no richer than rich taffeta. 
+Moth. A holy parcel of the fairest dames 
+[The Ladies turn their backs to him. 
+That ever turn’d their—backs—to mortal 
+views ! 
+Biron. [Aside to Moth] Their eyes, vil- 
+lain, their eyes. 
+Moth. That ever 
+mortal views |— 
+Out— 
+Boyet. True ; out indeed. 
+
+
+140 
+
+
+turn’d their eyes to 
+
+
+[The Ladies mask. | H 
+
+
+Moth, Out of your favours, heavenly 
+spirits, vouchsafe 
+Not to behold— 
+Biron. [Aside to Moth] Once to behold, 
+rogue. | 
+Moth. Once to behold with your sun- 
+beamed eyes, 
+with your sun-beamed eyes— 169 
+Boyet. They will not answer to that epithet ; | 
+You were best call it ‘ daughter-beamed eyes.’ 
+Moth. They do not mark me, and that 
+brings me out, 
+Biron. Is this your perfectness ? be gone, 1 
+: 
+
+
+you rogue! [Exit Moth. 
+Ros. What would these strangers? know 
+their minds, Boyet : 
+If they do speak our language, ‘tis our will 
+That some plain man recount their purposes :°~ 
+Know what they would. 
+
+
+Boyet. What would you with the princess ? 
+
+Biron. Nothing but peace and gentle visita- 
+tion. 
+
+Ros. What would they, say they > 180 
+
+Boyet. Nothing but peace and gentle visita- 
+tion. 
+
+
+Ros. Why, that they have ; and bid them 
+so be gone, 
+Boyet, She says, you have it, and you 
+may be gone. 
+King. Say to her, we have measured 
+many miles ; 
+To tread a measure with her on this grass. 
+Boyet. They say, that they have measured _ 
+many a mile 
+To tread a measure with you on this grass, 
+Ros. It is not so. Ask them how many 
+inches 
+Is in one mile ; if they have measured many, 
+The measure then of one is easily told. 190 
+Boyet. If tocome hither you have measured _ 
+miles, 
+And many miles, the princess bids you tell 
+ow many inches doth fill up one mile. 
+Biron, ‘ell her, we measure them by 
+weary steps. , 
+Bovei. She hears herself, 
+Ros. How many weary steps, 
+Of many weary miles you have o’ergone, 
+Are number’d in the travel of one mile ? { 
+Biron. We number nothing that we spend — 
+for you : ; 
+Our duty is so rich, so infinite, 
+That we may do it still without accompt. 200 
+Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face, 
+That we, like savages, may worship it. 
+Ros. My face is but a moon, and clouded 
+too. g 
+King. Blessed are clouds, to do as such 
+clouds do ! 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+_ Act V, Sc, I] 
+
+
+Not yet ! no dance ! 
+
+
+Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, 
+
+
+to shine, 
+
+
+Those clouds removed, upon our watery eyne. 
+
+
+Ros. O vain petitioner! beg a greater 
+matter ; 
+
+
+Thou now request’st but moonshine in the 
+
+
+water. 
+King. Then, in our measure do but vouch- 
+safe one change. 
+
+
+Thou bid’st me beg : this begging is not strange. 
+
+
+Ros, 
+
+
+it soon. 
+
+
+Play, music, then ! Nay, you must do 
+[Music plays. 
+
+Thus change I like the 
+moon. 
+
+King. Will you not dance >? How come 
+you thus estranged > 
+
+Ros. You took the moon at full, but now 
+she’s changed. 
+
+King. Yet still she is the moon, and I the 
+man, 
+
+
+‘ The music plays ; vouchsafe some motion to it. 
+
+
+We'll not be nice: take hands. 
+
+
+Metheglin, wort, 
+
+
+~Ros. Our ears vouchsafe it. 
+
+King. But your legs should do it. 
+
+Ros. Since you are strangers and come 
+here by chance, 
+
+We will not 
+dance, 
+
+King. Why take we hands, then ? 
+
+220 
+
+
+OS. Only to part friends : 
+Curtsy, sweet hearts; and so the measure 
+
+ends, 
+
+King. More measure of this measure ; be 
+not nice. 
+
+Ros. We can afford no more at such a 
+price. 
+
+King. Prize you yourselves : what buys 
+
+
+your company ? 
+
+
+Ros. Your absence only. 
+King That can never be. 
+Ros. Then cannot we be bought : and so, 
+
+
+adieu ; 
+Twice to your visor, and half once to you. 
+King. If you deny to dance, let’s hold 
+more chat. 
+
+
+Ros. In private, then. 
+
+King. I am best pleased with that. 
+[They converse apart. 
+
+Biron. White-handed mistress, one sweet 
+
+
+word with thee. 230 
+
+Prin, Honey, and-milk, and sugar ; there 
+is three. 
+
+Biron. Nay then, two treys, and if you 
+grow so nice, 
+
+and malmsey: well run, 
+
+
+dice ! 
+
+
+There’s half a dozen sweets. 
+
+
+Prin. 
+
+
+Seventh sweet, adieu: 
+
+
+Since you can cog, I'll play no more with you. 
+
+
+Biron.. One word in secret. 
+
+
+LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST 
+
+
+ZN 
+
+
+187 
+
+
+Prin. Let it not be sweet. 
+
+Biron. Thou grievest my gall. 
+
+Prin. Gall ! bitter. 
+
+Biron. Therefore meet. 
+[They converse apart. 
+
+Dum. Will you vouchsafe with me to 
+
+change a word ? 
+
+Mar, Name it. 
+
+Dum. Fair lady,— 
+
+Mar. Say you so? Fair lord— 
+
+
+Take that for your fair lady. 
+
+
+240 
+
+
+Dum, Please it you, 
+
+
+As much in private, and I "Il bid adieu. 
+
+
+[They converse apart. 
+
+Kath. What, was your vizard made with- 
+out a tongue > 
+
+Long. I know the reason, lady, why you 
+ask. 
+
+Kath. O for your reason! quickly, sir; I 
+long. 
+
+Long. You have a double tongue within 
+your mask, 
+
+
+And would afford my speechless vizard half. 
+
+
+Kath. Veal, quoth the Dutchman. 
+‘veal’ a calf? 
+
+Long. A calf, fair lady ! 
+
+Kath. No, a fair lord calf, 
+
+Long. Let's part the word. 
+
+
+Is not 
+
+
+Kath. No, I'll not be your half: 
+
+Take all, and wean it; it may prove an 
+ox. 
+
+Long. Look, how you butt yourself in 
+
+
+these sharp mocks ! 
+
+
+Will you give horns, chaste lady >? do not so. 
+
+
+Kath. Then die a calf, before your horns 
+do grow. 
+
+Long. One word in private with you, ere 
+I die. 
+
+Kath. Bleat softly then; the butcher 
+hears you cry. [They converse apart. 
+
+Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches 
+are as keen 
+
+As is the razor’s edge invisible. 
+
+
+Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen, 
+
+
+Above the sense of sense; so sensible 
+
+
+Seemeth their conference; their conceits have 
+
+
+wings 260 
+Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, 
+swifter things. 
+Ros. Not one word more, my maids ; 
+
+
+break off, break off. 
+
+
+Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with 
+pure scoff | 
+
+King. Farewell, mad wenches; You have 
+simple wits. 
+
+Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Musco- 
+vits. 
+
+
+[Exeunt King, Lords, and Blackamoors. 
+
+
+Are these the breed of wits so wonder’d at? 
+
+
+188 
+
+
+LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. I] 
+
+
+Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweet 
+breaths puff'd out. 
+Ros. Well-liking wits they have; gross, 
+gross; fat, fat. 
+Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout! 
+Will they not, think you, hang themselves to- 
+night? 270 
+Or ever, but in vizards, show their, faces? 
+This pert Biron was out of countenance quite. 
+Ros. O, they were all in lamentable cases! 
+The king was weeping-ripe for a good word. 
+
+
+Prin. Biron did swear himself out of all 
+suit. 
+
+Mar. Dumain was at my service, and his 
+sword: 
+
+No point, quoth I; my servant straight was 
+mute, 
+
+Kath. Lord Longaville said, I came o'er 
+his heart; 
+
+
+And trow you what he call’d me? 
+Prin. Qualm, perhaps. 
+Kath. Yes, in good faith. 
+Prin, Go, sickness as thou art! 280 
+Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain 
+statute-caps. 
+But will you hear? the king is my love sworn. 
+Prin. And quick Biron hath plighted faith 
+to me. 
+Kath, And Longaville was for my service 
+born. 
+Mar. Dumain is mine, as sure as bark on 
+tree, 
+Boyet. Madam, and pretty mistresses, give 
+ear: 
+Immediately they will again be here 
+In their own shapes; for it can never be 
+They will digest this harsh indignity. 
+Prin, Will they return? 
+Boyet. They will, they will, God knows, 
+And leap for joy, though they are lame with 
+
+
+blows: 291 
+Therefore change favours; and, when they re- 
+pair, 
+
+
+Blow like sweet roses in this summer air. 
+Prin. How blow? how blow? speak to be 
+understood, 
+Bovet. Fair ladies mask'd are roses in their 
+bud; 
+Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture 
+shown, 
+Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown. 
+Prin, Avaunt, perplexity!) What shall we 
+do, 
+If they return in their own shapes to woo? 
+
+
+Ros. Good madam, if by me you'll be ad- 
+
+
+vised, 
+Let’s mock them still, as well known as dis- 
+guised : 301 
+
+
+Let us complain to them what fools were here, 
+
+
+Disguised like Muscovites, in shapeless gear; 
+And wonder what they were and to what end 
+Their shallow shows and prologue vilely 
+penn’d 
+And their rough carriage so ridiculous, 
+Should be presented at our tent to us. 
+Boyet. Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are 
+at hand. 
+Prin. Whip to our tents, as roes run o'er 
+land. 
+[Exeunt Princess, Rosaline, Katharine, 
+
+
+and Maria. 
+
+
+Re-enter the King, Biron, LoNcaviLLe, and 
+Dumain, in their proper habits. 
+
+
+King. Fair sir, God save you! Where's 
+the princess? 310 
+‘Boyet. Gone to her tent. Please it your 
+majesty 
+Command me any service to her thither? 
+King. That she vouchsafe me audience for 
+
+
+one word, 
+Boyet. I will; and so will she, I know, my 
+lord. [Exit. 
+Biron. This fellow pecks up wit as pigeons 
+pease, 
+
+
+And utters it again when God doth please: 
+
+He is wit's pedler, and retails his wares 
+
+At wakes and wassails, meetings, markets, 
+fairs; 
+
+
+And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth — 
+
+
+know, 
+Have not the grace to grace it with such show. 
+This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve; 
+Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve; 
+A’ can carve too, and lisp: why, this is he — 
+That kiss’d his hand away in courtesy ; 
+This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice, 
+
+
+That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice 
+
+
+In honourable terms: nay, he can sing 
+A mean most meanly; and in ushering 
+
+
+Mend him who can: the ladies call him sweet; _ 
+
+
+The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet: 
+This is the flower that smiles on every one, 
+To show his teeth as white as whale’s bone; 
+And consciences, that will not die in debt, 
+Pay him the due of honey-tongued Boyet. 
+King. A blister on his sweet tongue, with 
+my heart, 
+That put Armado’s page out of his part! 
+Biron. See where it comes! Behaviour, 
+what wert thou 
+
+
+Till this madman show'd thee? and what art — 
+
+
+thou now? 
+
+
+Re-enter the Princess, ushered by Boyer; 
+RosaineE, Maria, and KaTHARINE. 
+
+
+King. All hail, sweet madam, and fair time 
+of day! 
+
+
+3395 
+
+
+Acr V, Sc, II] 
+
+
+Prin. ‘Fair’ in ‘all hail’ is foul, as I conceive. 
+King. Construe my speeches better, if you 
+may. 
+Prin. Then wish me better; I will give 
+you leave. 
+King. We came to visit you, and purpose now 
+To lead you to our court; vouchsafe it then. 
+Prin. This field shall hold me; and so 
+hold your vow: 
+Nor God, nor I, delights in perjured men. 
+King. Rebuke me not for that which you 
+provoke: 
+The virtue of your eye must break my oath. 
+Prin. You nickname virtue: vice you should 
+have spoke; 
+For virtue’s office never breaks men’s troth. 
+Now by my maiden honour, yet as pure 35] 
+As the unsullied lily, I protest, 
+A world of torments though I should endure, 
+__ I would not yield to be your house’s guest; 
+‘So much I hate a breaking cause to be 
+Of heavenly oaths, vow'd with integrity. 
+King. O, you have lived in desolation here, 
+Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame. 
+Prin. Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear; 
+We have had pastimes here and pleasant 
+game: 360 
+A mess of Russians left us but of late. 
+King. How, madam! Russians! 
+Prin. Ay, in truth, my lord; 
+Trim gallants, full of courtship and of state. 
+Ros. Madam, speak true. It is not so, my 
+f lord: 
+My lady, to the manner of the days, 
+In courtesy gives undeserving praise. 
+We four indeed confronted were with four 
+In Russian habit: here they stay’d an hour, 
+And talk’d apace; and in that hour, my 
+lord, 
+They did not bless us with one happy word. 
+I dare not call them fools; but this I think, 
+When they are thirsty, fools would fain have 
+
+
+drink. 
+Biron. This jest is dry to me. Fair gentle 
+
+sweet, 
+Your wit makes wise things foolish: when we 
+
+greet, 
+
+
+With eyes best seeing, heaven's fiery eye, 
+By light we lose light: your capacity 
+Is of that nature that to your huge store 
+Wise things seem foolish and rich things but 
+poor. 
+Ros. This proves you wise and rich, for 
+in my eye,— 
+Biron. I am a fool, and full of poverty. 
+Ros. But that you take what doth to you 
+belong, 
+it were a fault to snatch words from my 
+tongue. 
+
+
+LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST 
+
+
+’ 
+
+
+189 
+
+
+Biron, O, I am yours, and all that I pos- 
+
+sess! 
+
+Ros. All the fool mine? 
+
+Biron, I cannot give you less, 
+
+Ros. Which of the vizards was it that you 
+
+wore? 
+
+Biron. Where? when? what vizard? why 
+
+demand you this? 
+
+Ros. There, then, that vizard; that super- 
+
+fluous case 
+That hid the worse and show'd the better 
+face. 
+
+King. We are descried; they ‘ll mock us 
+
+now downright. 
+
+Dum. Let us confess and turn it to a jest. 
+
+Prin. Amazed, my lord? why looks your 
+
+highness sad? 391 
+
+Ros. Help, hold his brows! he'll swoon! 
+
+Why look you pale? 
+Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy. 
+
+Biron. Thus pour the stars down plagues 
+
+for perjury. 
+
+Can any face of brass hold longer out? 
+Here stand I: lady, dart thy skill at me; 
+
+Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a 
+
+flout; 
+Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignor: 
+ance; 
+
+Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit; 
+And I will wish thee never more to dance, 
+
+Nor never more in Russian habit wait. 
+
+O, never will I trust to speeches penn’d, 
+
+Nor to the motion of a schoolboy’s tongue, 
+Nor never come in vizard to my friend, 
+
+Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's 
+
+song! 
+Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise, 
+
+Thiee-piled hyperboles, spruce affectation, 
+Figures pedantical; these summer-flies 
+
+Have blown me full of maggot ostentation: 
+I do forswear them; and I here protest, 410 
+
+By this white glove,—how white the hand, 
+
+God knows!— 
+Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express’d 
+
+In russet yeas and honest kersey noes: 
+And, to begin, wench,—so God help me, 
+
+la!— 
+My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw. 
+
+Ros. Sans sans, I pray you. 
+
+Biron. Yet I have a trick 
+Of the old rage: bear with me, I am sick; 
+I'll leave it by degrees. Soft, let us see: 
+Write, ‘Lord have mercy on us’ on_ those 
+
+three; 
+They are infected; in their hearts it lies; 420 
+They have the plague, and caught it of your 
+eyes; 
+These lords are visited; you are not free, 
+For the Lord’s tokens on you do I see. 
+
+
+490 
+
+
+Prin. No, they are free that gave these 
+tokens to us. 
+Biron. Our states are forfeit: seek not to 
+undo us. 
+Ros. It is not so; for how can this be true, 
+That you stand forfeit, being those that sue? 
+Biron, Peace! for I will not have to do 
+with you. 
+Ros. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend. 
+Biron, Speak for yourselves; my wit is at 
+an end, 430 
+King. Teach us, sweet madam, for our 
+rude transgression 
+Some fair excuse. 
+Prin. The fairest is confession. 
+Were not you here but even now disguised? 
+King. Madam, I was. 
+Prin, And were you well advised ? 
+King. 1 was, fair madam, 
+Prin. When you then were here, 
+What did you whisper in your lady’s ear? 
+King. That more than all the world I did 
+respect her. 
+Prin. When she shall challenge this, you 
+will reject her. 
+King. Upon mine honour, no. 
+Prin. Peace, peace! forbear: 
+Your oath once broke, you force not to for- 
+
+
+swear. 
+
+King. Despise me, when I break this oath 
+of mine. 44] 
+
+Prin. 1 will: and therefore keep it. Rosa- 
+line, 
+
+
+What did the Russian whisper in your ear? 
+Ros. Madam, he swore that he did hold 
+me dear 
+As precious eyesight, and did value me 
+Above this world; adding thereto moreover 
+That he would wed me, or else die my lover. 
+Prin. God give thee joy of him! the noble 
+lord 
+Most honourably doth uphold his word. 
+King. What mean you, madam? by my 
+life, my troth, 450 
+never swore this lady such an oath. 
+Ros, By heaven, you did; and to confirm 
+it plain, 
+You gave me this: but take it, sir, again. 
+King. My faith and this the princess I 
+did give: 
+I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve. 
+Prin. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she 
+wear; 
+And Lord Biron, I thank him, is my dear. 
+What, will you have me, or your pearl again > 
+Biron. Neither of either; I remit both 
+twain. 
+I see the trick ont: here was a consent 460 
+Knowing aforehand of our merriment, 
+
+
+LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST 
+
+
+[Act V, Se. II 
+To dash it like a Christmas comedy: 
+Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight 
+
+
+zany, 
+
+Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, 
+some Dick, 
+
+That smiles his cheek in years and knows the 
+trick 
+
+
+To make my lady laugh when she’s disposed, 
+Told our intents before; which once disclosed, 
+The ladies did change favours: and then we, 
+Following the signs, woo'd but the sign of she. 
+Now, to our perjury to add more terror, 470 — 
+We are again forsworn, in will and error. 
+Much upon this it is: and might not you 
+[To Boyet. 
+Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue? 
+Do not you know my lady’s foot by the squier, 
+And laugh upon the apple of her eye? 
+And stand between her back, sir, and the fire, 
+Holding a trencher, jesting merrily? 
+You put our page out: go, you are allow'd; 
+Die when you will, a smock shall be your 
+shroud, 
+You leer upon me, do you? there’s an eye 
+Wounds like a leaden sword. 
+Bovet. Full merrily 
+Hath this brave manage, this career, been run, : 
+Biron. Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace! I 
+have done. 
+
+
+Enter Costarp. 
+
+
+Welcome, pure wit! thou partest a fair fray. 
+
+Cost. O Lord, sir, they would know 
+Whether the three Worthies shall come in 
+
+or no 4 : 
+
+Biron. What, are there but three? 
+
+Cost. No, sir; but it is vara fine, 
+For every one pursents three. 
+
+Biron, And three times thrice is nine. 
+Cost. Not so, sir; under correction, sir; I 
+hope it is not so. 
+
+You cannot beg us, sir, I can assure you, sir; 
+we know what we know: 
+
+I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir,— 
+
+iron. Is not nine. 
+
+Cost. Under correction, 
+whereuntil it doth amount. 
+Biron. By Jose, 1 always took three times 
+or nine. 
+
+Cost. O Lord, sir, it were pity you should 
+get your living by reckoning, sir. 
+
+iron. How much is it? 499 
+Cost. O Lord, sir, the parties themselves, 
+the actors, sir, will show whereuntil it doth 
+amount: for mine own part, I am, as they say, 
+but to parfect one man in one peor man, 
+Pompion the Great, sir. 
+
+Biron. Art thou one of the Worthies? 4 
+Cost. It pleased them to think me worthy 
+
+
+sir, we know 
+
+
+“Act V, Sc. I] 
+
+
+LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST 
+
+
+194 
+
+
+of Pompion the Great: for mine own part, I 
+know not the degree of the Worthy, but I! am 
+to stand for him. 
+Biron. Go bid them prepare, 510 
+Cost. We will turn it finely off, sir; we 
+will take some care. [Exit. 
+King. Biron, they will shame us: let them 
+not approach. 
+Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord: and 
+‘tis some policy 
+To have one show worse than the king’s and 
+his company. 
+King. 1 say they shall not come. 
+Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o’errule 
+you now: 
+
+
+That sport best pleases that doth least know 
+how: 
+
+} Where zeal strives to content, and the con- 
+tents 
+
+
+Dies in the zeal of that which it presents: 
+’ Their form confounded makes most form in 
+~ mirth, 520 
+When great things labouring perish in their 
+birth. 
+Biron. A right description of our sport, 
+my lord. 
+
+
+Enter ARMADO. 
+
+
+Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expense 
+ef thy royal sweet breath as will utter a 
+brace of words. 
+
+[Converse apart with the King, and 
+delivers him a paper. 
+
+Prin. Doth this man serve God? 
+
+Biron. Why ask you? 
+
+Prin. He speaks not like a man of God's 
+making. 529 
+
+Arm. That is all one, my fair, sweet, 
+honey monarch; for, I protest, the school- 
+master is exceeding fantastical; too too vain, 
+too too vain: but we will put it, as they say, 
+to fortuna de la guerra. I wish you the peace 
+of mind, most royal couplement! [Exit. 
+
+King. Here is like to be a good presence 
+
+of Worthies. He presents Hector of Troy; 
+the swain, Pompey the Great; the parish cu- 
+rate, Alexander; Armado’s page, Hercules; 
+the pedant, Judas Maccabeus: 540 
+And if these four Worthies in their first show 
+thrive, 
+These four will change habits, and present the 
+other five. 
+
+Biron. There is five in the first show. 
+
+King. You are deceived; ‘tis not so. 
+
+Biron. "The pedant, the braggart, 
+hedge-priest, the fool and the boy:— 
++Abate throw at novum, and the whole world 
+
+again 3 
+
+
+the 
+
+
+Cannot pick out five such, take each one in 
+his vein. 
+King. The ship is under sail, and here she 
+
+
+comes amain. 
+Enter Costarp, for Pompey. 
+
+
+Cost. I Pompey am,— 
+
+Bovet. You lie, you are not he, 550 
+
+Cost. I Pompey am,— 
+
+Bovet. With libbard’s head on knee. 
+
+Biron. Well said, old mocker: I must 
+needs be friends with thee. 
+
+
+Cost. It is, ‘Great,’ sir:— 
+Pompey surnamed the Great; 
+That oft in field, with targe and shield, did 
+make my foe to sweat: 
+And travelling along this coast, I here am 
+come by chance, 
+And lay my arms before the legs of this 
+sweet lass of France. 
+If your ladyship would say, “Thanks, Pom- 
+pey, I had done, . 
+Prin. Great thanks, great Pompey. 560 
+Cost. “Tis not so much worth; but I hope 
+I was perfect: I made a little fault in 
+‘Great.’ 
+Biron. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey 
+proves the best Worthy. 
+
+
+Enter Sir NATHANIEL, for Alexander. 
+Nath. When in the world I lived, I was 
+
+
+the world’s commander; 
+
+By east, west, north, and south, I spread my 
+conquering might: 
+
+My scutcheon plain declares that I am Ali- 
+sander,— 
+
+Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; 
+
+for it stands too right. 
+
+Biron. Your nose smells ‘no’ in this, most 
+
+tender-smelling knight. 
+
+Prin, The conqueror is dismay'd. Proceed, 
+
+good Alexander. 570 
+
+Nath. When in the world I ved, I was the 
+
+world’s commander,— 
+
+Bovyet. Most true, ‘tis right; you were so, 
+
+Alisander. 
+
+Biron. Pompey the Great,— 
+
+Cost. Your servant, and Costard, 
+
+Biron. Take away the conqueror, take 
+away Alisander. 
+
+Cost. [To Sir Nath.] O, sir, you have 
+overthrown Alisander the conqueror! You 
+will be scraped out of the painted cloth for 
+this: your lion, that holds his poll-axe sitting 
+on a close-stool, will be given to Ajax: he 
+will be the ninth Worthy. A conqueror, and 
+
+
+192 
+
+
+LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST 
+
+
+[Act V, Se. Il 
+
+
+afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alis- 
+ander. [Nath. retires.] There, an’t shall 
+please you; a foolish mild man; an honest 
+man, look you, and soon dashed. He is a 
+marvellous good neighbour, faith, and a very 
+good bowler: but, for Alisander,—alas, you 
+see how ‘tis,—a little o’erparted. But there 
+are Worthies a-coming will speak their mind 
+in some other soft. 590 
+Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey. 
+
+
+Enter HoLorernes, for Judas; and \vlorn, 
+for Hercules, 
+
+
+Hol. Great Hercules is presented by this 
+imp, 
+Whose club kill’d Cerberus, that three- 
+
+
+headed canis; 
+
+And when he was a babe, a child, a 
+shrimp, 
+
+Thus did he strangle serpents in his 
+
+manus. 
+
+Quoniam he seemeth in minority, 
+
+Ergo I come with this apology. 
+
+Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish. 
+
+
+[Moth retires. 
+600 
+
+
+Judas 1 am— 
+
+Dum. A Judas! 
+
+Hol. Not Iscariot, sir. 
+Judas I am, ycliped Maccabeus. 
+
+Dum. Judas Maccabeus clipt is plain 
+Judas. 
+
+Biron, A kissing traitor. How art thou 
+proved Judas? 
+
+Hol. Judas I am,— 
+
+Dum. The more shame for you, Judas. 
+
+Hol. What mean you, sir? 
+
+Boyet. To make Judas hang himself. 
+
+Hol. Begin, sir; you are my elder. 
+
+Biron, Well followed: Judas was hanged 
+on an elder. 610 
+
+Hol. | will not be put out of countenance. 
+
+Biron. Because thou hast no face. 
+
+Hol. What is this? 
+
+Boyet, A cittern-head. 
+
+Dum. The head of a bodkin. 
+
+Biron. A Death’s face in a ring, 
+
+Long. The face of an old Roman coin, 
+scarce Seen. 
+
+Boyet. The pommel of Cesar’s falchion. 
+
+Dum. The carved-bone face on a flask. 
+
+Biron. Saint George’s half-cheek in a 
+brooch. 
+
+Dum. Ay, and in a brooch of lead. 621 
+
+Biron. Ay, and worn in the cap of a 
+tooth-drawer. 
+
+And now forward; for we have put thee in 
+
+countenance. 
+
+Hol. You have put me out of countenance. 
+
+Biron, False; we have given thee faces. 
+
+
+Hol. But you have out-faced them all. 
+
+Biron. An thou wert a lion, we would 
+do so, : 
+
+Boyet, Therefore, as he is an ass, let him 
+
+
+go. 
+And so adieu, sweet Jude! nay, why dost 
+thou stay ? 
+
+
+Dum. For the latter end of his name. 630 — 
+
+
+Biron. For the ass to the Jude; give it 
+him:—Jud-as, away! 
+
+Hol. This is not generous, not gentle, not 
+humble. 
+
+Boyet. A light for Monsieur Judas! it 
+grows dark, he may stumble. [ Hol. retires. 
+
+Prin. Alas, poor Maccabeeus, how hath he 
+keen baited! 
+
+
+Enter Armano, for Hecior. 
+
+
+Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles: 
+
+
+comes Hector in arms. 
+
+
+Dum. Though my mocks come home by 
+
+
+me, | will now be merry. 
+
+King. Hector was but a Troyan in respect 
+of this. 
+
+Boyet. But is this Hector? 
+
+King. I think Hector was not so clean- 
+timbered. 
+
+Long. His leg is too big for Hector’s. 
+
+Dum. More calf, certain. 
+
+Boyet. No; he is best indued in the small, 
+
+Biron, This cannot be Hector. 
+
+
+Dum. He's a god or a painter; for he 
+
+
+makes faces, 
+Arm. The armipotent Mars, of lances the 
+almighty, 650 
+Gave Hector a gift,— . 
+Dum. A gilt nutmeg. 
+Biron. A lemon. 
+Long. Stuck with cloves, 
+Dum. No, cloven. 
+Arm. Peace!— 
+The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, 
+Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion; 
+A man so breathed, that certain he would 
+
+
+fight; yea 659 
+From morn till night, out of his pavilion, — 
+I am that flower,— 
+Dum. That mint. 
+Long. That columbine. 
+
+
+Arm. Sweet Lord Longaville, rein thy 
+tongue. 
+
+Long. | must rather give it the rein, for it 
+runs against Hector. 
+
+Dum. Ay, and Hector’s a greyhound. 
+
+Arm. The sweet war-man is dead and 
+rotten; sweet chucks, beat not the bones of 
+the buried: when he breathed, he was a man. 
+But I will forward with my device. [To the 
+
+
+here 
+
+
+Acr V, Sc. II] 
+
+
+LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST 
+
+
+193 
+
+
+Princess] Sweet royalty, bestow on me the 
+
+sense of hearing. 670 
+
+Prin, Speak, brave Hector: we are much 
+delighted. 
+
+
+Arm. | do adore thy sweet grace’s slipper. 
+
+
+Boyet. [Aside to Dum.] Loves her by 
+the foot. 
+
+Dum. [Aside to Boyet] He may not by 
+the yard. 
+
+
+Arm. This Hector far surmounted Han- 
+nibal,— 
+
+
+Cost. The party is gone, fellow Hector, | 
+
+
+she is gone; she is two months on her way. 
+
+Arm. What meanest thou? 680 
+
+Cost. Faith, unless you play the honest 
+Troyan, the poor wench is cast away: she's 
+
+quick; the child brags in her belly already: 
+"tis yours. 
+
+rm. Dost thou infamonize me among 
+potentates? thou shalt die. 
+
+Cost. Then shall Hector be whipped for 
+Jaquenetta that is quick by him and hanged 
+for Pompey that is dead by him. 
+
+Dum. Most rare Pompey! 
+
+Boyet. Renowned Pompey! 690 
+
+Biron. Greater than great, great, great, 
+great Pompey! Pompey the Huge! 
+
+Dum. Hector trembles. 
+
+Biron. Pompey is moved. More Ates, 
+more Ates! stir them on! stir them on! 
+
+Dum. Hector will challenge him. 
+
+Biron. Ay, if a’ have no more man’s blood 
+in 's belly than will sup a flea. 
+
+Arm. By the north pole, I do challenge 
+thee. 
+
+Cost. I will not fight with a pole, like a 
+northern man: I'll slash; I'll do it by the 
+sword. I bepray you, let me borrow my arms 
+again. 
+
+Dum. Room for the incensed Worthies! 
+
+Cost. I'll do it in my shirt. 
+
+Dum. Most resolute Pompey! 
+
+Moth. Master, let me take you a button- 
+hole lower. Do you not see Pompey is un- 
+casing for the combat? What mean you? 
+You will lose your reputation. 
+
+Arm. Gentlemen and soldiers, pardon me; 
+1 will not combat in my shirt. 711 
+
+Dum. You may not deny it: Pompey hath 
+made the challenge, 
+
+Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will. 
+
+Biron. What reason have you for ’t? 
+
+Arm.,.The naked truth of it is, I have no 
+shirt; I go woolward for penance. 
+
+Boyet. True, and it was enjoined him in 
+‘Rome for want of linen: since when, I'll be 
+sworn, he wore none but a dishclout of Jaque- 
+netta’s, and that a’ wears next his heart for a 
+favour. 
+
+
+Enter MERCADE, 
+Mer. God save you, madam! 
+Prin. Welcome, Mercade; 
+But that thou interrupt’st our merriment, 
+Mer. | am sorry, madam; for the news I 
+bring 
+Is heavy in my _ tongue. 
+father— 
+Prin. Dead, for my life! 
+Mer. Even so; my tale is told. 
+Biron. Worthies, away! the scene begins 
+to cloud. 731 
+Arm. For mine own part, | breathe free 
+breath. I have seen the day of wrong 
+through the little hole of discretion, and I 
+will right myself like a soldier. 
+[Exeunt Worthies. 
+
+
+King. How fares your majesty? 
+
+
+The king your 
+
+
+Prin. Boyet, prepare; I will away to- 
+night. 
+
+King. Madam, not so; I do beseech you, 
+stay. 
+
+
+Prin. Prepare, I say. I thank you, gracious 
+lords, 
+For all your fair endeavours; and entreat, 
+Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe 
+In your rich wisdom to excuse or hide 
+The liberal opposition of our spirits, 
+If over-boldly we have borne ourselves 
+In the converse of breath: your gentleness 
+Was guilty of it. Farewell, worthy lord! 
+A heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue: 
+Excuse me so, coming too short of thanks 
+For my great suit so easily obtain’d. 
+King. The extreme parts of time extremely 
+forms 750 
+All causes to the purpose of his speed, 
+And often at his very loose decides 
+That which long process could not arbitrate: 
+And though the mourning brow of progeny 
+Forbid the smiling courtesy of love 
+The holy suit which fain it would convince, 
+Yet, since love’s argument was first on foot, 
+Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it 
+From what it purposed; since, to wail friends 
+lost 
+Is not by much so wholesome-profitable 760 
+As to rejoice at friends but newly found. 
+Prin. I understand you not: my griefs are 
+double. 
+Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the 
+ear of grief; 
+And by these badges understand the king. 
+For your fair sakes have we neglected time, 
+Play’d foul play with our oaths: your beauty, 
+ladies, 
+Hath much deform’d us, fashioning our hu- 
+mours 
+
+
+| Even to the opposed end of our intents: 
+
+
+a a 
+
+
+ae | 
+
+
+194 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST [Act V, Sc. Il 
+
+
+Raining the tears of lamentation 
+For the remembrance of my father’s death. 
+If this thou do deny, let our hands part, 
+Neither intitled in the other's heart. 
+King. If this, or more than this, I would deny, 
+To flatter up these powers of mine with 
+rest. 
+The sudden hand of death close up mine eye! 
+Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast. 
+[Biron. And what to me, my love? and 
+what to me? 
+Ros. You must be. purged too, your sins are 
+rack'd, 
+You are attaint with faults and perjury: 
+Therefore if you my favour mean to get, 830 
+A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never 
+rest, w 
+But seek the weary beds of people sick.] 
+Dum. But what to me, my love? but what 
+to me? 
+A wife? 
+Kath. A beard, fair health, and honesty ; 
+With three-fold love I wish you all these 
+
+
+And what in us ‘hath seem’d ridiculous,— 
+As love is full of unbefitting strains, 770 
+All wanton as a child, skipping and vain, 
+Form’d by the eye and therefore, like the eye, 
+Full of strange shapes, of habits and of forms, 
+Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll 
+To every varied object in his glance: 
+Which parti-coated presence of loose love 
+Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes, 
+Have misbecomed our oaths and gravities, 
+Those heavenly eyes, that look into these 
+faults, 
+Suggested us to make. Therefore, ladies, 780 
+Our love being yours, the error that love makes 
+Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false, 
+By being once false for ever to be true 
+To those that make us both,—fair ladies, you: 
+And even that falsehood, in itself a sin, 
+Thus purifies itself and turns to grace. 
+Prin. We have received your letters full 
+of love; 
+Your favours, the ambassadors of love; 
+And, in our maiden council, rated them 
+
+
+At courtship, pleasant jest and courtesy, 790 three. , 
+As bombast and as lining to the time: Dam. O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle 
+But more devout than this in our respects wife? 
+Have we not been; and therefore met your} Kath. Not so, my lord; a twelvemonth 
+loves and a day 
+In their own fashion, like a merriment. I'll mark no words that smooth-faced wooers 
+Dum. Our letters, madam, show'd much say: 
+
+
+Come when the king doth to my lady come; 
+Then, if I have much love, I 'Il give you some. 
+
+
+more than jest. 
+
+
+Long. So did our looks. 
+
+
+vos er We did not quote them so,| Dum. I'll serve thee true and faithfully till 
+King. Now, at the latest minute of the then. 84] 
+hour, Kath. Yet swear not, lest ye be forsworn 
+Grant us your loves. again. 4 
+rin. A time, methinks, too short Long. What says Maria? 
+To make a world-without-end bargain in. Mar. At the twelvemonth’s end 
+No, no, my lord, your grace is perjured much, | I ‘Il change my black gown for a faithful 
+Full of dear guiltiness; and therefore this: friend. 
+If for my love, as there is no such cause, Long. I'll stay with patience; but the time 
+You will do aught, this shall you do for me: is long. 
+Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed Mar. The liker you; few taller are so 
+To some forlorn and naked hermitage, young, 
+Remote from all the pleasures of the world; Biron. Studies my lady? mistress, look on 
+There stay until the twelve celestial signs me; 
+
+
+Behold the window of my heart, mine eye, 
+What humble suit attends thy answer there: 
+Impose some service on me for thy love. 850 
+
+
+Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my Lord 
+
+
+Have brought about the annual reckoning. 
+
+If this austere insociable life 809 
+Change not your offer made in heat of blood; 
+If frosts and fasts, hard lodging and thin 
+
+
+weeds Biron, 
+Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love, Before I saw you; and the world’s large 
+But that it bear this trial and last love; tongue ~ 
+
+
+Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks, 
+
+Full of comparisons and wounding flouts, 
+
+Which you on all estates will execute 
+
+That lie within the mercy of your wit. 
+
+To weed this wormwood from your fruitful 
+brain, 
+
+
+Then, at the expiration of the year, 
+
+Come challenge me, challenge me by these 
+deserts, 
+
+And, by this virgin palm now kissing thine, 
+
+I will be thine; and till that instant shut 
+
+My woeful self up in a mourning house, 
+
+
+_ A jest’s prosperity lies in the ear 
+
+
+seetat 
+
+
+WR cs 7. ‘ ing ees bs ee. 
+Act V, Sc. II] LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST 195 
+
+
+And therewithal to win me, if you please, 
+Without the which I am not to be won, 
+You atball this twelvemonth term from day to 
+ay 
+Visit the speechless sick and still converse 
+With groaning wretches; and your task shall be, 
+With all the fierce endeavour of your wit 
+To enforce the pained impotent to smile. 
+Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat 
+of death? 
+It cannot be; it is impossible: 
+Mirth cannot move a soul in agony. 
+Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gib- 
+ing spirit, 
+Whose influence is begot of that loose grace 
+Which shallow laughing hearers give to an 
+871 
+Of him that hears it, never in the tongue 
+Of him that makes it: then, if sickly ears, 
+Deaf'd with the clamours of their own dear 
+groans, 
+Will hear your idle scorns, continue then, 
+And I will have you and that fault withal; 
+But if they will not, throw away that spirit, 
+And I shall find you empty of that fault, 
+Right joyful of your reformation. 
+Biron. A twelvemonth! well; befall what 
+will befall, 
+I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital. 
+Prin. [To the King] Ay, sweet my lord; 
+and so I take my leave. 
+King. No, madam; we will bring you on 
+your way. 
+Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an 
+old play; 
+Jack hath not Jill: these ladies’ courtesy 
+Might well have made our sport a comedy. 
+King. Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth 
+
+
+and a day, 
+And then ‘twill end. 
+~ Biron. That's too long for a play. 
+
+
+Re-enter ARMADO. 
+
+
+Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me,— 
+Was not that Hector? 
+The worthy knight of Troy. 890 
+Arm. | will kiss thy royal finger, and take 
+leave. I am a votary; I have vowed to 
+Jaquenetta to hold the plough for her sweet 
+love three years. But, most esteemed great- 
+ness, will you hear the dialogue that the two 
+learned men have compiled in praise of the 
+owl and the cuckoo? it should have followed 
+
+
+in the end of our show. 
+- 
+
+
+Arm. 
+Prin. 
+Dum. 
+
+
+King. Call them forth quickly; we will 
+
+
+do so. 
+
+Arm. Holla! approach. 900 
+Re-enter HoLorerNes, NaTHANIEL, Motu, 
+CostarD, and others. 
+
+This side is Hiems, Winter, this Ver, the 
+
+
+Spring; the one maintained by the owl, the 
+other by the cuckoo. Ver, begin. 
+
+
+THE Sone, 
+SPRING. 
+
+
+When daisies pied and violets blue 
+
+And lady-smocks all silver-white 
+And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue 
+
+Do paint the meadows with delight, 
+The cuckoo then, on every tree, 
+Mocks married men; for thus sings he, 
+
+Cuckoo; 910 
+
+Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear, 
+Unpleasing to a married ear! 
+
+
+When shepherds pipe on oaten straws 
+And merry larks are ploughmen’s clocks, 
+When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws, 
+And maidens bleach their summer smocks, 
+The cuckoo then, on every tree, 
+Mocks married men; for thus sings he, 
+Cuckoo; 
+Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear, 
+Unpleasing to a married ear! 
+
+
+920 
+
+
+WINTER. 
+
+When icicles hang by the wall 
+
+And Dick the shepherd blows his nail 
+And Tom bears logs into the hall 
+
+And milk comes frozen home in pail, 
+When blood is nipp’d and ways be foul, 
+Then nightly sings the staring owl, 
+
+Tu-whit; 
+
+Tu-who, a merry note, 
+While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. 
+
+
+When all aloud the wind doth blow 
+And coughing drowns the parson’s saw 
+And birds sit brooding in the snow 
+And Marian’s nose looks red and raw, 
+When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, 
+Then nightly sings the staring owl, 
+Tu-whit; 
+Tu-who, a merry note, 
+While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. 939 
+Arm. The words of Mercury are harsh 
+after the songs of Apollo. You that way; 
+we this way. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+930 
+
+
+A MIDSUMMER. 
+
+
+NIGHT’S DREAM 
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSON/E 
+
+
+TuHEsEus, Duke of Athens. 
+
+Eceus, father to Hermia. 
+
+LysanpeEr, ) 
+
+Demetrius, § 
+
+PHILOSTRATE, master of the revels to 
+Theseus. 
+
+QuINCE, a carpenter, 
+
+SNUG, a joiner, 
+
+Bottom, a weaver. 
+
+FLureE, a bellows-mender. 
+
+SNOUT, a tinker, 
+
+STARVELING, a tailor. 
+
+Hippotyta, queen of the Amazons, be- 
+trothed to Theseus. 
+
+
+AGINL 
+
+
+Scene I. Athens. The palace of THESEUus. 
+
+
+Enter THESEUus, Hippotyta, Puitostrazs, 
+and Attendants, 
+
+
+The. Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour 
+Draws on apace; for happy days bring in 
+Another moon: but, O, methinks, how slow 
+This old moon wanes! she lingers my desires, 
+Like to a step-dame or a dowager 
+Long withering out a young man’s revenue. | 
+
+Hip. Four days will quickly steep them- 
+
+selves in night; 
+Four nights will quickly dream away the time; 
+And then the moon, like to a silver bow 
+New-bent in heaven, shall behold the night 10 
+Of our solemnities. 
+’ The. Go, Philostrate, 
+Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments ; 
+Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth: 
+Turn melancholy forth to funerals; 
+The pale companion is not for our pomp. 
+
+[Exit Philostrate. 
+
+Hippolyta, I woo'd thee with my sword, 
+And won thy love, doing thee injuries; 
+But I will wed thee in another key, 
+With pomp, with triumph and with revelling, 
+
+
+Enter Eceus, Herma, LyYsANDER, and 
+DEMETRIUs. 
+
+
+in love with Hermia. 
+
+
+Ege. Happy be Theseus, our xenowned duke! 
+The. Thanks, good Egeus: what’s the 
+news with thee? 21 
+Ege. Full of vexation come I, with complaint 
+Against my child, my daughter Hermia. 
+
+
+i 
+r 
+
+
+Herma, daughter to Egeus, in love with 
+Lysander. 
+
+HELENA, in love with Demetrius, 
+
+Oberon, king of the fairies. 
+
+TITANIA, queen of the fairies, 
+
+Puck, or Robin Goodfellow. 
+
+PEASEBLOsSoM, } 
+
+CoBwes, | 
+
+
+Motu, i fairies. 
+
+
+MustarpsEep, 
+Other fairies attending their King and Queen 
+Attendants on Theseus and Hippolyta. 
+ScENE: Athens, and a wood near it. 
+
+
+Stand forth, Demetrius, My noble lord, 
+
+This man hath my consent to marry her. 
+
+Stand forth, Lysander: and, my gracious duke, 
+
+This mee hath bewitch’d the bosom of my 
+child: 
+
+Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her 
+rhymes 
+
+And interchan 
+
+
+ged love-tokens with my child: 
+Thou hast by 
+
+
+moonlight at her window sung 
+With feigning voice verses of feigning love, 
+And stolen the impression of her fantasy 
+With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, con- 
+
+
+ceits, 
+
+Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweetmeats, messen- 
+gers 
+
+Of strong prevailment in unharden'd youth: 
+
+
+With cunning hast thou filch’d my daughter's 
+heart, 
+Turn’d her obedience, 
+To stubborn harshness: and, my gracious duke, 
+Be it so she will not here before your grace 
+Consent to marry with Demetrius, 40 
+I beg the ancient privilege of Athens, 
+As she is mine, I may dispose of her: 
+Which shall be either to this gentleman 
+Or to her death, according to our law 
+Immediately provided in that case, 
+The. What say you, Hermia? be advised, 
+fair maid: 
+To you your father should be as a god; 
+One that composed your beauties, yea, and one 
+To whom you are but as a form in wax 
+By him imprinted and within his power 50 
+To leave the figure or dishigure it. 
+Demetrius is a worthy gentleman. 
+
+
+96 
+
+
+which is due to me, 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+Act I, Sc. I] 
+
+
+4 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM 
+
+
+ba 
+
+
+197 
+
+
+Her. So is Lysander. 
+
+The. In himself he is: 
+
+But in this kind, wanting your father’s voice, 
+The other must be held the worthier. 
+
+Her. 1 would my father look’d but with 
+
+my eyes. 
+
+The. Rather your eyes must with his judge- 
+
+ment look. 
+
+Her. 1 do entreat your grace to pardon me. 
+I know not by what power I am made bold, 
+Nor how it may concern my modesty, 60 
+In such a presence here to plead my thoughts; 
+But I beseech your grace that 1 may know 
+The worst that may befall me in this case, 
+
+If I refuse to wed Demetrius. 
+
+The. Either to die the death or to abjure 
+For ever the society of men. 
+
+Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires; 
+
+Know of your youth, examine well your blood, 
+
+Whether, if you yield not to your father’s 
+choice, 
+
+You can endure the livery of a nun, 70 
+
+For aye to be in shady cloister mew’d, 
+
+To live a barren sister all your life, 
+
+Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless 
+moon. 
+
+Thrice-blessed they that master so their blood, 
+
+To undergo such maiden pilgrimage; 
+
+But earthlier happy is the rose distill’d, 
+
+Than that which withering on the virgin thorn 
+
+Grows, lives and dies in single blessedness. 
+
+Her. So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord. 
+Ere I will yield my virgin patent up 80 
+Unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke 
+My soul consents not to give sovereignty. 
+
+The. Take time to pause; and, by the next 
+
+new moon-— 
+
+The sealing-day betwixt my love and me, 
+
+For everlasting bond of fellowship— 
+
+Upon that day either prepare to die 
+
+For disobedience to your father’s will, 
+
+‘Or else to wed Demetrius, as he would; 
+
+Or on Diana’s altar to protest 
+
+For aye austerity and single life. 90 
+
+Dem. Relent, sweet Hermia: and, Lysan- 
+
+der, yield, 
+
+Thy crazed title to my certain right. 
+
+Lys. You have her father’s love, Demetrius; 
+Let me have Hermia’s: do you marry him. 
+
+Ege. Scornful Lysander! true, he hath my 
+
+love, 
+And what is mine my love shall render him. 
+And she is mine, and all my right of her 
+1 do estate unto Demetrius. 
+
+Lys. I am, my lord, as well derived as he, 
+As well possess'd; my love is more than his; 
+My fortunes every way as fairly rank’d, 101] 
+If not with vantage, as Demetrius’; 
+
+And, which is more than all these boasts can be, 
+
+
+I am beloved of beauteous Hermia: 
+Why should not I then prosecute my right? 
+Demetrius, I ‘ll avouch it to his head, 
+Made love to Nedar’s daughter, Helena, 
+And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, dotes, 
+Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry, 
+Upon this spotted and inconstant man. 110 
+The. 1 must confess that I have heard so 
+much, 
+And with Demetrius thought to have spoke 
+thereof ; 
+But, being over-full of self-affairs, 
+My mind did lose it. But, Demetrius, come; 
+And come, Egeus; you shall go with me, 
+I have some private schooling for you both. 
+For you, fair Hermia, look you arm yourself 
+To fit your fancies to your father’s will; 
+Or else the law of Athens yields you up— 
+Which by no means we may extenuate— 120 
+To death, or to a vow of single life. 
+Come, my Hippolyta: what cheer, my love? 
+Demetrius and Egeus, go along; 
+I] must employ you in some business 
+Against our nuptial and confer with you 
+Of something nearly that concerns yourselves. 
+Ege. With duty and desire we follow you. 
+[Exeunt all but Lysander and Hermia. 
+Lys. How now, my love! why is your 
+cheek so pale? 
+How chance the roses there do fade so fast? 
+Her. Belike for want. of rain, which I 
+could well 130 
+Beteem them from the tempest of my eyes. 
+Lys. Ay me! for aught that I could ever 
+read, 
+Could ever hear by tale or history, ; 
+The course of true love never did run smooth; 
+But, either it was different in blood,— 
+Her. O cross! too high to be enthrall'd to 
+low. 
+Lys. Or else misgraffed in respect of years, 
+Her. O spite! too old to be engaged to 
+young. 
+Lys. Or else it stood upon the choice of 
+friends,— 
+Her. O hell! to choose love by another's 
+eyes. 140 
+Lys. Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, 
+War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it, 
+Making it momentany as a sound, 
+Swift as a shadow, short as any dream; 
+Brief as the lightning in the collied night, 
+That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and 
+earth, 
+And ere a man hath power to say ‘Behold!’ 
+The jaws of darkness do devour it up: 
+So quick bright things come to confusion. 
+Her. If then true lovers have been ever 
+
+
+cross'd, 150 
+
+
+198 4. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM / WAer B Sey 
+
+
+! 
+
+
+Her. I give him curses, yet he gives me ve: 
+Hel. O that my prayers could such affec- 
+
+
+It stands as an edict in destiny: 
+Then let us teach our trial patience, 
+
+
+Because it is a customary cross, tion ‘move! 
+As due to love as thoughts and dreams and} Her, The more I hate, the more he follows 
+sighs, me. 
+Wishes and tears, Poor fancy s followers, Hel. The more I love, the more he hateth 
+Lys. A good persuasion; therefore, hear me. 
+
+
+me, Hermia. 
+
+
+Her. His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine. 
+I have a widow aunt, a dowager 
+
+
+Hel. None, but your beauty: would that 
+
+
+Of great revenue, and she hath no child: fault were mine! 201 
+From Athens is her house remoie seven leagues; Her. Take comfort: he no more shall see 
+And she respects me as her only son, 160 my face; 
+
+
+There, gentle Hermia, may | marry thee; 
+And to that place the sharp Athenian law 
+Cannot pursue us. If thou lovest me then, 
+Steal forth thy father’s house to-morrow nicht; 
+“And in the wood, a league without the town, 
+Where I did meet thee once with Helena, 
+To do observance to a morn of May, 
+There will I stay for thee. 
+Her. My good Lysander! 
+I swear to thee, by Cupid's strongest bow, 
+By his best arrow with the golden head, 170 
+By the simplicity of Venus’ doves, 
+By that which knitteth souls and prospers loves, 
+And by that fire which burn’d the Carthage 
+queen, 
+When the false Troyan under sail was seen, 
+By all the vows that ever men have broke, 
+In number more than ever women spoke, 
+In that same place thou hast appointed me, 
+o-morrow truly will I meet with thee. 
+Lys... Keep promise, love. Look, here 
+comes Helena. 179 
+
+
+Lysander and myself will fly this place. 
+Before the time I did Lysander see, 
+Seem'd Athens as a paradise to me: 
+O, then, what graces in my love do dwell, 
+That he hath turn’d a heaven unto a hell! 
+Lys. Helen, to you our minds we will un- 
+fold: 
+To-morrow night, when Phebe doth behold 
+Her silver visage in the watery glass, 210 
+Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass, 
+A time that lovers’ flight doth still conceal, 
+Through Athens’ gates we have devised to 
+steal, 
+Her. And in the wood, where often you 
+and [| 
+Upon faint primrose-beds were wont to lie, 
+Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet, 
+here my Lysander and myself shall meet; 
+And thence from Athens turn away our eyes, 
+To seek new friends and stranger companies, 
+Farewell, sweet playfellow; pray thou for us; 
+And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius! 22] 
+Keep ey Lysander; we must starve our 
+signt 
+From lovers’ food till morrow deep midnight, 
+Lys. 1 will, my Hermia. [Exit Herm, 
+Helena, adieu: 
+As you on him, Demetrius dote on you. [Exit 
+Hel. How happy some o'er other some can: 
+be! 
+Through Athens I am thought as fair as she. 
+But what of that? Demetrius thinks not $0; 
+He will not know what all but he do know: 
+And as he errs, doting on Hermia’s eyes, 230 
+So I, admiring of his qualities : 
+Things base and vile, holding no quantity, 
+Love can transpose to form and dignity: 
+
+
+Enter HELENA, 
+Her. God speed, fair Helena! whither 
+
+
+away ? 
+Hel. Call you me fair? that fair again 
+
+unsay. 
+
+Demetrius loves your fair: O happy fair! 
+
+Your eyes are lode-stars; and your tongue’s 
+sweet air 
+
+More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear, 
+
+When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds 
+appear. 
+
+Sickness is catching: O were favour so, 
+
+Yours would | catch, fair Hermia, ere | go; 
+
+My ear should catch your voice, my eye your 
+
+
+eye, Love looks not with the eyes, but with the 
+My tongue should catch your tongue’s sweet mind; 
+melody, And therefore is wing’d Cupid painted blind: 
+
+
+Were the world mine, Dernetrius being bated, 
+The rest I ‘Id give to be to you translated 19] 
+O, teach me how you look, and with what art 
+ou sway the motion of Demetrius’ heart. 
+Her. 1 frown upon him, yet he loves me still. 
+Hel. © that your frowns would teach my 
+smiles such skill! 
+
+
+Nor hath Love’s mind of any judgement taste; 
+Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste: 
+And therefore is Love said to be a child, 
+Because in choice he is so oft beguiled, 
+
+As waggish boys in game themselves forswear 
+So the boy Love is perjured every where: 24] 
+For ere Demetrius look’d on Hermia’s eyne, 
+
+
+- Act 1, Sc. I] 
+
+
+He hail’d down oaths that he was only mine; 
+
+And when this hail some heat from Hermia 
+
+; felt, 
+
+So he dissolved, and showers of oaths did 
+melt. 
+
+I will go tell him of fair Hermia’s flight: 
+
+Then to the wood will he to-morrow night 
+
+Pursue her; and for this intelligence 
+
+If I have thanks, it is a dear expense: 
+
+But herein mean I to enrich my pain, 
+
+
+250 
+
+
+To have his sight thither and back again. [Exit. 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+Scene II. Athens. Quince’s house. 
+
+
+Enter Quince, SNuc, Bottom, FLuTE, 
+SNouT and STARVELING. 
+Quin. Is all our company here? 
+Bot. You were best to call them generally, 
+man by man, according to the script. 
+Quin. Here is the scroll of every man’s 
+name, which is thought fit, through all Athens, 
+
+
+sto play in our interlude before the duke and 
+
+
+the duchess, on his wedding-day at night. 
+Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what 
+the play treats on, then read the names of the 
+actors, and so grow to a point. 10 
+Quin. Marry, our play is, The most 
+lamentable comedy, and most cruel death of 
+Pyramus and Thisby. 
+Bot. A very good piece of work, I assure 
+
+
+you, and a merry. Now, good Peter Quince, 
+
+
+condole in some measure. 
+_my chief humour is for a tyrant: I could play 
+Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in, to 
+
+
+call forth your actors by the scroll. Masters, 
+spread yourselves. 
+
+Quin. Answer as I call you. Nick Bot- 
+tom, the weaver. 
+
+Bot. Ready. Name what part I am for, 
+and proceed. 21 
+
+Quin. You, Nick Bottom, are set down 
+for Pyramus. 
+
+Bot. Whatis Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant? 
+
+Quin. A lover, that kills himself most gal- 
+lant for love. 
+
+Bot. That will ask some tears in the true 
+performing of it: if I do it, let the audience 
+look to their eyes: I will move storms, | will 
+To the rest: yet 
+
+
+make all split. 
+The raging rocks 
+And shivering shocks 
+Shall break the locks 
+Of prison gates; 
+And Phibbus’ car 
+"Shall shine from far 
+And make and mar 
+The foolish Fates. 40 
+This was lofty! Now name the rest of the 
+players. This is Ercle’s vein, a tyrant’s vein; 
+a lover is more condoling, 
+
+
+A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM 
+
+
+Te. 
+
+
+199 
+
+
+——. 
+
+
+Quin. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender. 
+
+Flu. Here, Peter Quince. 
+
+Quin, Flute, you must take Thisby on you, 
+
+Flu, What is Thisby? a wandering knight? 
+
+Quin, Itis the lady that Pyramus must love. 
+
+Flu. Nay, faith, let not me play a woman; 
+I have a beard coming. 50 
+
+Quin. That’s all one: you shall play it in 
+a mask, and you may speak as small as you 
+will. 
+
+Bot. An I may hide my face, let me play 
+
+
+‘Thisby too, I'll speak in a monstrous little 
+
+
+voice, “Thisne, Thisne;’ ‘Ah Pyramus, my 
+lover dear! thy Thisby dear, and lady dear!' 
+
+Quin. No, no; you must play Pyramus: 
+and, Flute, you Thisby. 
+
+Bot. Well, proceed. 
+
+Quin. Robin Starveling, the tailor. 
+
+Star. Here, Peter Quince. 
+
+Quin. Robin Starveling, you must play 
+Thisby’s mother. Tom Snout, the tinker, 
+
+Snout. Here, Peter Quince, 
+
+Quin. You, Pyramus’ father; myself, 
+Thisby’s father. Snug, the joiner; you, the 
+lion’s part; and, I hope, here is a play fitted. 
+
+Snug. Have you the lion’s part written? 
+pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow 
+of study, 
+
+Quin. You may do it extempore, for it is 
+nothing but roaring. 71 
+
+Bot. Let me play the lion too: I will roar, 
+that I will do any man’s heart good to hear 
+me; | will roar, that I will make the duke 
+say ‘Let him roar again, let him roar again.’ 
+
+Quin. An you should do it too terribly, 
+you would fright the duchess and the ladies, 
+that they would shriek; and that were enough 
+to hang us all. 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+All. That would hang us, every mother’s 
+son. 
+Bot. I grant you, friends, if that you 
+
+
+should fright the ladies out of their wits, they 
+would have no more discretion but to hang 
+us: but I will aggravate my voice so that I 
+will roar you as gently as any sucking dove; 
+I will roar you an 'twere any nightingale. 
+
+Quin. You can play no part but Pyramus; 
+for Pyramus is a sweet-faced man; a proper 
+man, as one shall see in a summer's day; a 
+most lovely gentleman-like man; therefore you 
+must needs play Pyramus. 91 
+
+Bot. Well, I will undertake it. What 
+beard were I best to play it in? 
+
+Quin. Why, what you will. 
+
+Bot. 1 will discharge it in either your 
+straw-colour beard, your orange-tawny beard, 
+your purple-in-grain beard, or your French- 
+crown-colour beard, your perfect yellow. 
+
+Quin. Some of your French crowns have 
+
+
+200 
+
+
+ao hair at all, and then you will play bare-. 
+
+
+faced. But, masters, here are your parts: 
+and I am to entreat you, request you and 
+desire you, to con them by to-morrow night; 
+and meet me in the palace wood, a mile with- 
+out the town, by moonlight; there will we 
+rehearse, for if we meet in the city, we shall 
+be dogged with company, and our devices 
+
+
+known. In the meantime I will draw a bill 
+of properties, such as our play wants. I pray 
+you, fail me not. 109 
+
+
+Bot. We will meet; and there we may re- 
+hearse most obscenely and courageously. Take 
+pains; be perfect; adieu. 
+
+Quin. At the duke’s oak we meet. 
+
+Bot. Enough; hold or cut bow-strings. 
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT. If 
+A wood near Athens, 
+
+
+Enter, from opposite sides, a Fairy, and 
+Puck. 
+Puck. How now, spirit! whither wander 
+ou > 
+Fai, Over hill, over dale, 
+Through bush, through brier, 
+Over park, over pale, 
+Through flood, through fire, 
+I do wander every where, 
+Swifter than the moon's sphere; 
+And I serve the fairy queen, 
+To dew her orbs upon the green. 
+The cowslips tall her pensioners be: 10 
+In their gold coats spots you see; 
+Those be rubies, fairy favours, 
+In those freckles live their savours: 
+I must go seek some dewdrops here 
+And hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear. 
+Farewell, thou lob of spirits; 1 ‘Il be gone: 
+Our. queen and all her elves come here anon. 
+Puck. The king doth keep his revels here 
+to-night: 
+Take heed the queen come not within his sight; 
+For Oberon is passing fell and wrath, 20 
+Because that she as her attendant hath 
+A lovely boy, stolen from an Indian king; 
+She never had so sweet a changeling; 
+And jealous Oberon would have the child 
+Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild; 
+But she perforce withholds the loved boy, 
+Crowns him with flowers and makes him all 
+her joy: 
+And now they never meet in grove or green, 
+By fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen, 
+But they do square, that all their elves for fear 
+‘Creep into acorn-cups and Jide them there. 31 
+Fai. Either I mistake ye.ir rhape and mak- 
+ing quite, 
+
+
+Scene I. 
+
+
+A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM 
+
+
+[Act II, Se. 1) 
+
+
+Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite 
+Call’d Robin Goodfellow: are not you he 
+That frights the maidens of the villagery; 
+Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern 
+And bootless make the breathless housewife 
+
+
+churn; 
+
+And sometime make the drink to bear no 
+barm; 
+
+Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their 
+harm? 
+
+
+Those that Hobgoblin call you and sweet 
+Puck, 
+You do their work, and they shall have good 
+luck: 41 
+Are not you he? 
+Puck. Thou speak’st aright; 
+I am that merry wanderer of the night. 
+I jest to Oberon and make him smile a 
+When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile, 
+Neighing in likeness of a filly foal: 
+And sometime lurk | in a gossip’s bowl, 
+In very likeness of a roasted crab, 
+And when she drinks, against her lips I bob 
+And on her wither’d dewlap pour the ale. 50 
+The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale, 
+Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me; 
+Then slip I from her bum, down topples she, 
+And ‘iailor’ cries, and falls into a cough; 
+And then the whole quire hold their hips and 
+laugh, 
+And waxen in their mirth and neeze and swear 
+A merrier hour was never wasted there. 
+But, room, fairy! here comes Oberon. 
+Fai. And here my mistress. Would that 
+
+
+he were gone! 
+~*~ 
+
+
+Enier, from one side, OBERON, with his train; 
+from the other, TITANIA, with hers. 
+
+
+Obe, Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania, 
+Tita. What, jealous Oberon! Fairies, skip 
+hence: 61 
+I have forsworn his bed and company. 
+Obe. Tarry, rash wanton: amnot I thy lord? 
+Tita. Then I must be thy ‘ady: but I know 
+When thou hast stolen away from fairy land, 
+And in the shape of Corin sat all day, 
+Playing on pipes of corn and versing love 
+To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here, 
+Come from the farthest steppe of India?» 
+But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon, 70 
+Your buskin’d mistress and your warrior love, 
+To Theseus must be wedded, and you come 
+To give their bed joy and prosperity. 
+Obe. How canst thou thus for shame, Ti- 
+tania, 
+Glance at my credit with Hippolyta, 
+Knowing I know thy love to Theseus? 
+Didst thou not lead him through the glim- 
+mering night 
+
+
+We. 
+
+
+Act II, Sc. I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM 201 
+
+
+Which she, with pretty and with swimming 
+gait 130 
+
+Following,—her womb then rich with my 
+young squire,— 
+
+Would imitate, and sail upon the land, 
+
+To fetch me trifles, and return again, 
+
+As from a voyage, rich with merchandise. 
+
+But she, being mortal, of that boy did die; 
+
+And for her sake do I rear up her boy, 
+
+And for her sake I will not part with him. 
+
+Obe. How long within this wood intend 
+
+
+From Perigenia, whom he ravished? 
+
+And make him with fair Egle break his faith, 
+
+With Ariadne and Antiopa? 80 
+Tita. These are the forgeries of jealousy: 
+
+And never, since the middle summer's spring, 
+
+Met we on hill, in dale, forest or mead, 
+
+By paved fountain or by rushy brook, 
+
+Or in the beached margent of the sea, 
+
+To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind, 
+
+But with thy brawls thou hast disturb’d our 
+
+sport, 
+
+
+Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain, you stay? 
+As in revenge, have suck’d up from the sea Tita. Perchance till after Theseus’ wed- 
+Contagious fogs; which falling in the land 90 ding-day. 
+
+
+If you will patiently dance in our round 140 
+And see our moonlight revels, go with us; 
+If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts. 
+
+
+ave every pelting river made so proud 
+That they have overborne their continents: 
+The ox hath therefore stretch’d his yoke in 
+
+
+vain, . Obe. Give me that boy, and I will go with 
+The ploughman lost his sweat, and the green thee. 
+
+corn Tita. Not for thy fairy kingdom. Fairies, 
+Hath rotted ere his youth attain'd a beard; away! 
+
+
+The fold stands empty in the drowned feld, 
+And crows are fatted with the murrion flock; 
+The nine men’s morris is fill’d up with mud, 
+And the quaint mazes in the wanton green 
+For lack of tread are undistinguishable: 100 
+The human mortals want their winter here; 
+No night is now with hymn or carol blest: 
+Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, 
+Pale in her anger, washes all the air, 
+
+That rheumatic diseases do abound: 
+
+And thorough this distemperature we see 
+The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts 
+
+
+We shall chide downright, if I longer stay. 
+[Exit Titania with her train. 
+Obe. Well, go thy way: thou shalt not 
+from this grove 
+Till I torment thee for this injury. 
+My gentle Puck, come hither. Thou remem- 
+brest 
+Since once I sat upon a promontory, 
+And heard a mermaid on a dolphin’s back 
+Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath 
+That the rude sea grew civil at her song 
+And certain stars shot madly from their 
+
+
+Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose, spheres, 
+And on old Hiems’ thin and icy crown To hear the sea-maid’s music. 
+An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds 110 Puck. I remember. 
+
+
+Obe. That very time I saw, but thou 
+couldst not, 
+Flying between the cold moon and the earth, 
+Cupid all arm’d: a certain aim he took 
+At a fair vestal throned by the west, 
+And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his 
+bow, 
+As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts; 
+But I might see young Cupid’s fiery shaft 161 
+Quench’d in the chaste beams of the watery 
+moon, 
+
+
+Is, as in mockery, set: the spring, the summer, 
+The childing autumn, angry winter, change 
+Their wonted liveries, and the mazed world, 
+By their increase, now knows not which is 
+which: 
+
+And this same progeny of evils comes 
+From our debate, from our dissension; 
+We are their parents and original. 
+
+Obe. Do you amend it then; it lies in 
+
+
+you: 
+Why should Titania cross her Oberon? 
+
+
+{ do but beg a little changeling boy, 120 | And the imperial votaress passed on, 
+To be my henchman. In maiden meditation, fancy-free. 
+
+Tita. Set your heart at rest; Yet mark’d I where the bolt of Cupid fell: 
+The fairy land buys not the child of me. It fell upon a little western flower, 
+His mother was a votaress of my order, Before milk-white, now purple with love's 
+And, in the spiced Indian air, by night, wound, 
+
+
+Full often.hath she gossip’d by my side, And maidens call it love-in-idleness, 
+And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands, |Fetch me that flower; the herb I shew’d thee 
+
+
+Marking the embarked traders on the flood. once: 
+When we have laugh’d to see the sails con- | The juice of it on sleeping eye-lids laid 17% 
+ceive Will make or man or woman madly dote 
+
+
+And grow big-bellied with the wanton wind; | Upon the next live creature that it sees. 
+
+
+- 202 
+
+
+Fetch me this herb; and be thou here again 
+Ere the leviathan can swim a league. 
+Puck. I'll puta girdle round about the earth 
+{n forty minutes. [Exit. 
+Obe. Having once this juice, 
+I ‘ll watch Titania when she is asleep, 
+And drop the liquor of it in her eyes. 
+The next thing then she waking looks upon, 
+Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull, 180 
+On meddling monkey, or on busy ape, 
+She shall pursue it with the soul of love: 
+And ere | take this charm from off her sight, 
+As I can take it with another herb, 
+I ‘ll make her render up her page to me. 
+But who comes here? I am invisible; 
+And I will overhear their conference. 
+
+
+Enter Demetrius, HELENA following him. 
+Dem. 
+
+
+not. 
+Where is Lysander and fair Hermia? 
+The one I'll slay, the other slayeth me. 190 
+Thou told’st me they were stolen upon this 
+wood; 
+And here am I, and wode within this wood, 
+Because I cannot meet my Hermia. 
+Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more. 
+Hel. You draw me, you hard-hearted ada- 
+mant; 
+But yet you draw not iron, for my heart 
+Is true as steel: leave you your power to draw, 
+And I shall have no power to follow you. 
+Dem. Dol entice you? doI speak you fair? 
+Or, rather, do I not in plainest truth 200 
+Tell you, I do not, nor I cannot love you? 
+Hel. And even for that do I love you the 
+more. 
+I am your spaniel; and, Demetrius, 
+The more you beat me, | will fawn on you: 
+Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike 
+me, 
+Neglect me, lose me; only give me leave, 
+Unworthy as I am, to follow you. 
+What worser place can I beg in your love,— 
+And yet a place of high respect with me,— 
+Than to be tsed as you use your dog? 210 
+Dem. Tempt not too much the hatred of 
+my spirit, 
+For I am sick when I do look on thee. 
+
+
+I love thee not, therefore pursue me 
+
+
+Hel. And IJ am sick when I look not on 
+you. 
+
+Dem. You do impeach your modesty too 
+much, 
+
+
+To leave the city and commit yourself 
+
+Into the hands of one that loves you not; 
+
+To trust the opportunity of night 
+
+And the ill counsel of a desert place 
+
+With the rich worth of your virginity. 
+Hel. 
+
+
+A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM 
+
+
+Your virtue ‘s mv »rivilege; for that | 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+[Acr Il, Sc. 1 | 
+
+
+It is not night when I do see your face, 221 
+Therefore I think I am not in the night; 
+Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company, 
+For you in my respect are all the world: 
+Then how can it be said | am alone, 
+When all the world is here to look on me? 
+Dem.. I'll run from thee and hide me in 
+the brakes, 
+And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts. 
+Hel, The wildest hath not such a heart as 
+you, 
+Run when you will, the story shall be changed: 
+Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase; 231 
+The dove pursues the griffin; the mild hind 
+Makes speed to catch the tiger; bootless speed, 
+When cowardice pursues and valour flies. 
+
+
+Dem. I will not stay thy questions; let me 
+go: 
+Or, if thou follow me, do not believe 
+
+
+But I shall do thee mischief in the wood. 
+Hel. Ay, in the temple, in the town, the — 
+field, 
+You do me mischief. Fie, Demetrius! 
+Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex: 240 
+We cannot fight for love, as men may do; 
+We should be woo’d and were not made to 
+woo. [Exit Dem. 
+I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, 
+To die upon the hand I love so well.  [Exit. 
+Obe. Fare thee well, nymph: ere he do 
+leave this grove, 
+
+
+Thou shalt fly him and he shall seek thy love. 
+Re-enter Puck, 
+
+
+Hast thou the flower there> Welcome, wan- — 
+
+
+derer. 
+Puck. Ay, “there it is. 
+Obe. I pray thee, give it me. — 
+
+
+I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, 
+
+Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, 
+
++Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, 
+
+With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine: 
+
+There sleeps Titania sometime of the night, 
+
+ie in these flowers with dances and de- 
+ight; 
+
+And there the snake throws her enamell’d © 
+skin, 
+
+Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in: 
+
+And with the juice of this I "Il streak her eyes, 
+
+And make her full of hateful fantasies. 
+
+Take thou some of it, and seek through this 
+grove: 
+
+A sweet Athenian lady is in love 260 
+
+With a disdainful youth: anoint his eyes; 
+
+But do it when the next thing he espies 
+
+May be the lady: thou shalt know the man 
+
+By the Athenian garments he hath on. 
+
+Effect it with some care that he may prove 
+
+More fond on her than she upon her love: 
+
+
+“Acti. Sexi) 
+
+
+A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM 
+
+
+203 
+
+
+And look thou meet me ere the first cock crow. 
+Puck. Fear not, my lord, you servant shall 
+do so. Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene If. Another part of the wood. 
+Enter Titania, with her train. 
+
+
+Tita. Come, now a roundel and a fairy song; 
+Then, for the third part of a minute, hence; 
+Some to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds, 
+Some war with rere-mice for their leathern 
+
+
+wings, 
+
+To make my small elves coats, and some keep 
+back 
+
+The clamorous owl that nightly hoots and 
+wonders 
+
+
+At our quaint spirits. Sing me now asleep; 
+Then to your offices and let me rest. 
+
+
+The Fairies sing. 
+
+
+You spotted snakes with double tongue, 
+Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen; 
+
+Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong, 
+Come not near our fairy queen. 
+Philomel, with melody 
+Sing in our sweet lullaby; 
+
+Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby: 
+
+Never harm, 
+
+Nor spell nor charm, 
+Come our lovely lady nigh; 
+So, good night, with lullaby. 
+
+Weaving spiders, come not here; 
+
+
+Hence, you long-legg’d spinners, hence! 
+Beetles black, approach not near; 
+orm nor snail, do no offence. 
+Philomel, with melody, &c. 
+
+
+A Fairy. Hence, away! now all is well: 
+One aloof stand sentinel. 
+[Exeunt Fairies. Titania sleeps. 
+
+
+Enter OBERON, and squeezes the flower on 
+Titania's eyelids. 
+
+
+Obe. What thou seest when thou dost wake, 
+Do it for thy true-love take, 
+Love and languish for his sake: 
+Be it ounce, or cat, or bear, 
+Pard, or boar with bristled hair, 
+In thy eye that shall appear 
+When thou wakest, it is thy dear: 
+Wake when some vile thing is near. 
+
+[Exit. 
+Erter LysaNDER and Herma. 
+
+
+Lys. Fair love, you faint with wandering in 
+the wood; 
+And to speak troth, I have forgot our way: 
+We'll resi us, Hermia, if you think it good, 
+And tarry for the comfort of the day. 
+Her. Be it so, Lysander: find you out a 
+
+
+ed; 
+For I upon this bank will rest my head. 40 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+One turf shall serve as pillow for us 
+both; 
+One heart, one bed, two bosoms and one troth, 
+
+Her. Nay, good Lysander; for my sake, my 
+
+dear, 
+Lie further off yet, do not lie so near. 
+
+Lys. O, take the sense, sweet, of my inno- 
+
+cence! 
+
+Love takes the meaning in love’s conference, 
+I mean, that my heart unto yours is knit 
+So that but one heart we can make of it; 
+Two bosoms interchained with an oath; 
+So then two bosoms and a single troth. 
+Then by your side no bed-room me deny; 
+For lying so, Hermia, I do not lie. 
+
+Her. Lysander riddles very prettily: 
+Now much beshrew my manners and my pride, 
+If Hermia meant to say Lysander lied. 
+
+But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy 
+
+Lie further off; in human modesty, 
+
+Such separation as may well be said 
+
+Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid, 
+
+So far be distant; and, good night, sweet 
+friend: 
+
+Thy love ne’er alter till thy sweet life end! 61 
+
+Lys. Amen, amen, to that fair prayer, say I; 
+And then end life when I end loyalty! 
+Here is my bed: sleep give thee all his rest! 
+
+Her. With half that wish the wisher’s eyes 
+
+be press’d! [They sleep. 
+Enter Puck, 
+
+
+Puck. Through the forest have I gone, 
+But Athenian found I none, 
+On whose eyes I might approve 
+This flower’s force’ in stirring love. 
+
+night and silence——Who is here? 
+
+Weeds of Athens he doth wear: 
+This is he, my master said, 
+Despised the Athenian maid; 
+And here the maiden, sleeping sound, 
+On the dank and dirty ground. 
+Pretty soul! she durst not lie 
+Near this lack-love, this kill-courtesy. 
+Churl, upon thy eyes I throw 
+All the power this charm doth owe. 
+When thou wakest, let love forbid 80 
+Sleep his seat on thy eyelid: 
+So awake when I am gone; 
+For I must now to Oberon. [Exit. 
+
+
+Enter Demetrius and HELENA, running. 
+
+
+50 
+
+
+70 
+
+
+Hel. Stay, though thou kill me, sweet De- 
+metrius. 
+Dem. I charge thee, hence, and do not 
+
+
+haunt me thus. 
+Hel. O, wilt thou darkling leave me? do 
+not so. 
+Dem. Stay, on thy peril: I alone will go. 
+[Exit. 
+
+
+204 
+
+
+Hel. O, I am out of breath in this fond 
+chase! 
+The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace. 
+Happy is Hermia, wheresoe’er she lies; 90 
+For she hath blesssed and attractive eyes. 
+How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt 
+tears: 
+If so, my eyes are oftener wash'd than hers. 
+No, no, I am as ugly as a bear; 
+For beasts that meet me run away for fear: 
+Therefore no marvel though Demetrius 
+Do, as a monster, fly my presence thus. 
+What wicked and dissembling glass of mine 
+Made me compare with Hermia’s sphery eyne ? 
+But who is here? Lysander! on the ground! 
+Dead? ox asleep? I see no blood, no wound. 
+Lysander, if you live, good sir, awake. 
+Lys. [Awaking] And run through fire I 
+will for thy sweet sake. 
+Transparent Helena! Nature shows art, 
+That through thy bosom makes me see they 
+heart. 
+Where is Demetrius? O, how fit a word 
+Is that vile name to perish on my sword! 
+Hel. Do not say so, Lysander; say not so. 
+What though he love your Hermia? Lord 
+what though > 109 
+Yet Hermia still loves you: then be content. 
+Lys. Content with Hermia! No; I do repent 
+The tedious minutes I with her have spent. 
+Not Hermia but Helena I love; 
+Who will not change a raven for a dove? 
+The will of man is by his reason sway'd; 
+And reason says you are the worthier maid. 
+Things growing are not ripe until their season: 
+So I, being young, till now ripe not to reason; 
+And touching now the point of human skill, 
+Reason becomes the marshal to my will 120 
+And leads me to your eyes, where I o’erlook 
+Love’s stories written in love’s richest book. 
+Hel. Wherefore was I to this keen mockery 
+born > 
+When at your hands did | deserve this scorn? 
+Is "t not enough, ist not enough, young man, 
+That I did never, no, nor never can, 
+Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius’ eye, 
+But you must flout my insufficiency ? 
+Good troth, you do me wrong, good sooth, you 
+do, 
+In such disdainful manner me to woo. 130 
+But fare you well: perforce I must confess 
+I thought you lord of more true gentleness. 
+O, that a lady, of one man refused, 
+Should of another therefore be abused! [Exit. 
+Lys. She sees not Hermia. Hermia, sleep 
+thou there: 
+Arid never mayst thou come Lysander near! 
+For as a surfeit of the sweetest things 
+The deevest loathing to the stomach brings, 
+
+
+4 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’'S DREAM 
+
+
+[Acrilli Set rg 
+
+
+Or as the heresies that men do leave 
+Are hated most of those they did deceive, 140 
+So thou, my surfeit and my heresy, 
+Of all be hated, but the most of me! 
+And, all my powers, address your love and 
+might 
+To honour Helen and to be her knight! [Exit. 
+Her. [Awaking] Help me, Lysander, help 
+me! do thy best 
+To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast! 
+Ay me, for pity! what a dream was here! 
+Lysander, look how do I quake with fear: 
+Methought a serpent eat my heart away, 
+And you sat smiling at his cruel prey. 150 
+Lysander! what, removed? Lysander! lord! 
+What, out of hearing? gone? no sound, no 
+word ? 
+Alack, where are you? speak, an if you hear; 
+Speak, of all loves! I swoon almost with fear, 
+No? then I well perceive you are not nigh: 
+Either death or you I'll find immediately. 
+[Exit 
+
+
+ACT III. 
+
+
+Scene I. The wood. Titania lying asleep. 
+
+
+Enter Quince, SNuc, Bottom, FLuTE, 
+SNouT and STARVELING, 
+
+
+Bot. Are we all met? 
+
+Quin. Pat, pat; and here’s a marvellous 
+convenient place for our rehearsal. This green 
+plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn-brake 
+our tiring-house; and we will do it in action 
+as we will do it before the duke. 
+
+Bot. Peter Quince,— 
+
+Quin. What sayest thou, bully Bottom? 
+
+Bot. There are things in this comedy of 
+Pyramus and Thisby that will never please. 
+First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill 
+himself; which the ladies cannot abide. How 
+answer you that? 
+
+Snout. By’r lakin, a parlous fear. 
+
+Star. .1 believe we must leave the killing 
+out, when all is done. 
+
+Bot. Nota whit; I have a device to make 
+all well. Write me a prologue; and let the 
+prologue seem to say, we will do no harm with 
+our swords and that Pyramus is not killed in- 
+deed; and, for the more better assurance, tell 
+that I Pyramus am not Pyramus, but Bottom 
+the weaver: this will put them out of fear. 
+
+Quin. Well, we will have such a prologue; 
+and it shall be written in eight and six. 
+
+Bot. No, make it two more; let it be writ- 
+ten in eight and eight. 
+
+Snout. Will not the ladies be afeard of ths 
+lion? 
+
+Star. 
+
+Bot. 
+
+
+I fear it, I promise you. 29 
+Masters, you ought to consider witk 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+Act Ill, Sc. I] 
+
+
+A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM 
+
+
+205: 
+
+
+yourselves: to bring in—God shield us!—a 
+lion among ladies is a most dreadful thing; for 
+there is not a more fearful wild-fowl than your 
+lion living; and we ought to look to’! 
+
+Snout. Therefore another prologue must 
+tell he is not a lion. 
+
+Bot. Nay, you must name his name, and 
+half his face must be seer through the lion’s 
+neck: and he himself must speak through, 
+saying thus or to the same defect—‘Ladies,’ 
+—or ‘Fair ladies,—I would wish you,’—or ‘I 
+
+
+would request you,—or ‘I would entreat you, | 
+
+
+—not to fear, not to tremble: my life for 
+yours. If you think I come hither as a lion, 
+it were pity of my life; no, I am no such 
+thing; | am a man as other men are;" and 
+there indeed let him name his name, and tell 
+them plainly he is Snug the joiner. 
+
+Quin. Well, it shall be so. But there is 
+two hard things: that is, to bring the moon- 
+light into a chamber; for, you know, Pyramvs 
+and Thisby meet by moonlight. 5] 
+
+Snout. Doth the moon shine that night we 
+play our play? 
+
+Bot. A calendar, a calendar! look in the 
+almanac; find out moonshine, find out moon- 
+shine. 
+
+Quin. Yes, it doth shine that night. 
+
+Bot. Why, then may you leave a casement 
+of the great chamber window, where we play, 
+open, and the moon may shine in at the case- 
+ment, 
+
+Quir. Ay; or else one must come in with 
+a bush or thorns and a lanthorn, and say he 
+comes to disfigure, or to present, the person of 
+Moonshine. Then, there is another thing: we 
+must have a wall in the great chamber; for 
+Pyramus and Thisby, says the story, did talk 
+through the chink of a wall. 
+
+Snout. You can never bring in a wall. 
+What say you, Bottom? 
+
+Bot. Some man or other must present 
+‘Wall: and let him have some plaster, or some 
+loam, or some rough-cast about him, to signify 
+wall; and let him hold his fingers thus, and 
+through that cranny shall Pyramus and Thisby 
+svhisper, Z 
+
+Quin. If that may be, then all is well. 
+Come, sit down, every mother’s son, and re- 
+hearse your parts. Pyramus, you begin; when 
+you have spoken your speech, enter into that 
+‘brake. and so every one according to his cue. 
+
+
+.. Enter Puck behind. 
+
+
+Puck. What hempen home-spuns have we 
+swa%gering here, 
+So near the cradle of the fairy queen? 80 
+What, a play toward! I'll be an auditor; 
+An actor too perhaps, if I see cause. 
+
+
+art translated. 
+
+
+Quin. Speak, Pyramus. Thisby, stand forth. 
+Bot. Thisby, the flowers of odious savours 
+sweet,— 
+Quin. Odours, odours. 
+Bot. -——odours savours sweet: 
+So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisby dear. 
+But hark, a voice! stay thou but here awhile, 
+And by and by I will to thee appear. [Exit. 
+Puck. A stranger Pyramus than e’er played 
+here. [Exit. 
+Flu. Must I speak now? 91 
+Quin. Ay, marry, must you; for you must 
+understand he goes but to see a noise that he 
+heard, and is to come again. 
+
+
+Flu. Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white 
+of hue, 
+Of colour like the red rose on triumphant 
+brier, 
+
+
+Most brisky juvenal and eke most lovely Jew, 
+As true as truest horse that yet would never 
+tire. 
+I'll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny’s tomb. 99 
+Quin. *Ninus’ tomb,’ man: why, you must 
+not speak that yet; that you answer to Pyra- 
+mus: you speak all your part at once, cues 
+and all. Pyramus enter: your cue is past: it 
+is, ‘never tire.’ 
+Flu. O,—As true as truest horse, that yet - 
+would never tire. 
+
+
+Re-enter Puck, and Bottom with an ass’s 
+head, 
+
+
+Bot. If I were fair, Thisby, I were only 
+thine. 
+Quin. O monstrous! O strange! we are 
+
+
+haunted. Pray, masters! fly, masters! Help! 
+[Exeunt Quince, Snug, Flute, Snout, and 
+Starveling. 
+Puck. I'll follow you, I'll lead you about 
+a round, 
+
+Through bog, through bush, through brake, 
+through brier: 116 
+Sometime a horse I ‘Il be, sometime a hound, 
+
+A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire: 
+And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and 
+
+
+bura, 
+Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every 
+turn. [ Exif. 
+
+
+Bot. Why do they run away? this is 2, 
+knavery of them to make me afeard. 
+Re-enter SNOUT. 
+Snout. O Bottom, thou art changed! what 
+do I see on thee? 
+Bot. What do you see? you see an ase- 
+head of your own, do you? {Exit Snout. 
+Re-enter QUINCE. 
+
+
+Bless thee, Bottom! bless thee! thou 
+[Exit, 
+
+
+Quin. 
+
+
+206 
+
+
+A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM 
+
+
+[Acr III, Sc. I 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+Bot. | see their knavery: this is to make an 
+ass of me; to fright me, if they could. But I 
+will not stir from this place, do what they can: 
+I will walk up and down here, and I will sing, 
+that they shall hear I am not afraid. [Sings. 
+
+The ousel cock so black of hue, 
+With orange-tawny bill, 
+
+The throstle with his note so true, 
+
+The wren with little quill,— 
+
+Tita. [Awaking] What angel wakes me 
+
+from my flowery bed? 
+
+Bot. [Sings] 
+
+The finch, the sparrow and the lark, 
+
+The plain-song cuckoo gray, 
+Whose note full many a man doth mark, 
+And dares not answer nay;— 
+for, indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish 
+a bird? who would give a bird the lie, though 
+he cry ‘cuckoo’ never so? 
+
+Tita, I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again: 
+Mine ear is much enamour’d of thy note; 14] 
+So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape; 
+
+And they fair virtue’ force perforce doth 
+move me 
+On the first view to say, to swear, I love thee. 
+
+Bot. Methinks, mistress, you should have 
+little reason for that: and yet, to say the truth, 
+reason and love keep little company together 
+now-a-days; the more the pity that some hon- 
+est neighbours will not make them friends. 
+Nay, I can gleek upon occasion. 150 
+
+
+Tita. Thou art as wise as thou art beauti- 
+ful, 
+Bot. Not so, neither: but if I had wit 
+
+
+enough to get out of this wood, I have encugh 
+to serve mine own turn. 
+Tita. Out of this wood do not desire to go: 
+Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or 
+no. 
+I am a spirit of no common rate: 
+The summer still doth tend upon my state; 
+And I do love thee: therefore, go with me; 
+I'll give thee fairies to attend on thee. 160 
+And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep. 
+And sing while thou on pressed flowers dost 
+sleep: 
+And I will purge thy mortal grossness so 
+That thou shalt like an airy spirit go. 
+Peaseblossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mus- 
+
+
+tardseed! 
+
+
+Enter PeaseBLossom, Copwes, Motu, and 
+
+
+Mus TARDSEED. 
+Peas. Ready. 
+Cob. And I. 
+Moth And I. 
+Mus. And I. 
+All, Where shall we go? 
+
+
+1305 
+
+
+Tita, Be kind and courteous to this gentle- 
+"man; 
+Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes; 
+Feed him with apricocks and dewberries, 169 
+With purple grapes, green figs and mulberries ; 
+The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees, 
+And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs 
+And light them at the fiery glow-worm’s eyes, 
+To have my love to bed and to arise; 
+And pluck the wings from painted butterflies 
+To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes: 
+Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies. 
+Peas, Hail, mortal! 
+
+
+Cob. Hail! 
+Moth. Hail! 180 
+Mus. Hail! 
+
+
+Bot. I cry your worships mercy, heartily ; 
+I beeseech your worship’s name, 
+
+Cob. Cobweb. 
+
+Bot. I shall desire you of more acquaint- 
+ance, good Master Cobweb: if I cut my finger, 
+t shall make bold with you. Your name, hon- 
+est gentleman > 
+
+Peas. Peaseblossom. 189 
+
+Bot. I pray you, commend me to Mistress 
+Squash, your mother, and to Master Peascod, 
+your father. Good Master Peaseblossom, | 
+shall desire you of more acquaintance too. 
+Your name, I: beseech you, sir? 
+
+Mus. Mustardseed, 
+
+Bot. Good Master Mustardseed, I know 
+your patience well: that same cowardly, giant- 
+like ox-beef hath devoured many a gentleman 
+of your house: I promise you your kindred 
+hath made my eyes water ere now. I desire 
+your more acquaintance, good Master Mus- 
+tardseed. 201 
+
+Tita. Come, wait upon him; lead him to 
+
+my bower, 
+
+
+The moon methinks looks with a watery 
+
+
+eye; 
+And. when she weeps, weeps every little flower, 
+
+Lamenting some enforced chastity. 
+Tie up my love's tongue, bring him silently. 
+[Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene II. Another part-of the wood. 
+Enter OBERON. 
+
+Obe. I wonder if Titania be awaked; 
+Then, what it was that next came in her eye, 
+Which she must dote on in extremity. 
+
+Enter Puck. 
+Here comes my messenger. 
+How now, mad spirit! 
+What night-rule now about this haunted grove? 
+
+Puck. My mistress with a monster is in love, 
+Near to her close and consecrated bower, 
+While she was ir her dull and sleeping hour, 
+
+
+Acr Ill, Se. Hl] 
+
+
+A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM 
+
+
+207 
+
+
+A crew of patches, rude mechanicals, 
+
+That work for bread upon Athenian stalls, 10 
+Were met together to rehearse a play 
+Intended for great Theseus’ nuptial-day. 
+The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort, 
+Who Pyramus presented, in their spurt 
+Forsook his scene and enter’d in a brake: 
+When I did him at this advantage take, 
+
+An ass’s nole I fixed on his head: 
+
+Anon his Thisbe must be answered, 
+
+And forth my mimic comes. 
+
+
+spy, 
+As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye, 20 
+Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort, 
+Rising and cawing at the gun’s report, 
+Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky, 
+So, at his sight, away his fellows fly; 
+And, at our stamp, here o’er and o'er one falls; 
+He murder cries and help from Athens calls. 
+Their sense thus weak, lost with their fears 
+thus strong, 
+Made senseless things begin to do them wrong; 
+For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch; 
+Some sleeves, some hats, from yielders all 
+things catch. 
+I led them on in this distracted fear, 
+And left sweet Pyramus translated there: 
+When in that moment, so it came to pass, 
+Titania waked and straightway loved an ass. 
+Obe. This falls out better than I could devise. 
+But hast thou yet latch’d the Athenian’s eyes 
+With the love-juice, as I did bid thee do? 
+Puck. 1 took him sleeping,—that is finish’d 
+too,— 
+And the Athenian woman by his side; 
+That, when he waked, of force she must be 
+eyed. 40 
+
+
+Enter Hermia and DEMETRIUS, 
+
+
+Obe. Stand close; this is the same Athenian. 
+Puck. This is the woman, but not this the 
+man. 
+Dem. O, why rebuke you him that loves 
+you so? 
+{ay breath so bitter on your bitter foe. 
+Her. Now I but chide; but I should use 
+thee worse, 
+For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse. 
+If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep, 
+Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep, 
+And kill me too. 
+The sun was not so true unto the day 50 
+Ass he to me: would he have stolen away 
+From sléeping Hermia? I believe as soon 
+This whole earth may be bored and that the 
+moon 
+May through the centre creep and so displease 
+‘Her brother’s noontide with the Antipodes. 
+Tt cannot be but thou hast murder’d him; 
+
+
+When they him 
+
+
+So should-a murderer look, so dead, so grim. 
+Dem. So should the murder’d look, and so 
+should I, 
+Pierced through the heart with your stern 
+cruelty: 
+Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear, 
+As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere. 61 
+Her. What’s this to my Lysander? where 
+is he? 
+Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me? 
+
+
+Dem. I had rather give his carcass to my 
+hounds. 
+Her. Out, dog! out, cur! thou drivest me 
+
+
+past the bounds 
+
+Of maiden’s patience. 
+
+then? 
+
+Henceforth be never number’d among men! 
+
+O, once tell true, tell true, even for my sake! 
+
+Durst thou have look’d upon him being awake, 
+
+And hast thou kill’d him sleeping? O brave 
+
+touch! 70 
+
+Could not a worm, an adder, do so much? 
+
+An adder did it; for with doubler tongue 
+
+Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung. 
+Dem. You spend your passion on a mis- . 
+
+prised mood: 
+
+I am not guilty of Lysander’s blood; 
+
+Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell. 
+Her. I pray thee, tell me then that he is well. 
+Dem. An if I could, what should I get 
+
+therefore > 
+Her. A privilege never to see me more. 
+And from thy hated presence part I so; 80 
+See me no more, whether he be dead or no. 
+[Exit. 
+Dem. There is no following her in this 
+fierce vein: 
+
+Here therefore for a while I will remain. 
+
+So sorrow’s heaviness doth heavier grow 
+
+For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe; 
+
+Which now in some slight measure it will pay, 
+
+If for his tender here I make some stay. 
+
+Obe. What hast thou done? thou hast mis- 
+taken quite 
+
+And laid the love-juice on some true-love’s 
+
+sight: 
+
+Of thy misprision must perforce ensue 90 
+
+Some true love turn’d and not a false turn’d 
+
+true. 
+Puck. Then fate o’er-rules, that, one man 
+holding troth, 
+
+A million fail, confounding oath on oath. 
+Obe. About the wood go swifter than the 
+
+wind, 
+
+And Helena of Athens look thou find; 
+
+All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer, 
+
+With sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood 
+
+dear: 
+
+By some illusion see thou bring her here: 
+
+
+Hast thou slain him, 
+
+
+208 
+
+
+A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM 
+
+
+[Acr III, Sc. If 
+
+
+I'll charm his eyes against she do appear. 
+Puck. 1 go, I go; look how I go, 100 
+Swifter than arrow from the Tartar’s bow. 
+[Exit. 
+Obe. Flower of this purple dye, 
+Hit with Cupid's archery, 
+Sink in apple of his eye. 
+When his love he doth espy, 
+Let her shine as gloriously 
+As the Venus of the sky. 
+When thou wakest, if she be by, 
+Beg of her for remedy. 
+
+
+Re-enter Puck. 
+
+
+Captain of our fairy band, 
+Helena is here at hand; 
+
+And the youth, mistook by me, 
+Pleading for a lover's fee, 
+
+Shall we their fond pageant see? 
+Lord, what fools these mortals be! 
+Stand aside; the noise they make 
+Will cause Demetrius to awake. 
+Then will two at once woo one; 
+That must needs be sport alone; 
+And those things do best please me 
+That befal preposterously. 121 
+
+
+Enter LysANDER and HELENA, 
+Lys. Why should you think that I should woo 
+
+
+In scorn? 
+Scorn and derision never come in tears: 
+Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born, 
+In their nativity all truth appears. 
+How can these things in me seem scorn to you, 
+Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true? 
+Hel. You do advance your cunning more and 
+more. 
+When truth kills truth, O devilish holy fray! 
+
+
+hese vows are Hermia’s: will you give her 
+g 
+
+
+Puck. 110 
+
+
+Obe. 
+Puck. 
+
+
+o'er? 
+Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing 
+weigh: 13] 
+
+
+Your vows to her and me, put in two scales, 
+Will even weigh, and both as light as tales, 
+Lys. I had no judgement when to her I 
+swore. 
+
+
+Ael. Nor none, in my mind, now you give 
+her o'er. 
+Lys. Demetrius loves her, and he loves not 
+
+
+you. 
+Dem. [Awaking] O Helen, goddess, nymph, 
+perfect, divine! 
+To what, my love, shall I compare thine eye? 
+Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show 139 
+Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow! 
+That pure congealed white, high Taurus’ snow, 
+Fann’d with the eastern wind, turns to crow 
+When thou hold'st up thy hand: O, let me kiss 
+This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss! 
+Hel. O spite! O hell! I see you all are bent 
+
+
+To set against me for your merriment: 
+If you were civil and knew courtesy, 
+You would not do me thus much injury. 
+Can you not hate me, as I know you do, 
+But you must join in souls to mock me too? 
+If you were men, as men you are in show, 
+You would not use a gentle lady so; 
+To vow and swear and superpraise my parts, 
+Whea I am sure you hate me with your hearts, 
+You both are rivals, and love Hermia; 
+And now both rivals, to mock Helena: 
+A trim exploit, a manly enterprise, 
+To conjure tears up in a poor maid’s eyes 
+With your derision! none of noble sort 
+Would so offend a virgin and extort 160 
+A poor soul’s patience, all to make you sport. 
+Lys. You are unkind, Demetrius; be not sO; 
+For you love Hermia; this you know I know: 
+And here, with all good will, with all my heart, 
+In Hermia’s love I yield you up my part; 
+And yours Helena to me bequeath, 
+Whom | do love and will do till my death. 
+Hel. Never did mockers waste more idle 
+breath, 
+Dem. Lysander, keep thy Hermia; I will 
+none: 
+If e’er I loved her, all that love is gone. 170 
+My heart to her but as guest-wise sojourn'd, 
+And now to Helen is it home return’d, 
+‘there to remain. 
+Lys, Helen, it is not so. 
+Dem. Disparage not the faith thou dost not 
+know, 
+Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear. 
+Look, where thy love comes; yonder is thy 
+dear. « 
+
+
+150 
+
+
+Re-enter HERMIA. 
+Her. Dark night, that from the eye his 
+
+
+function takes, 
+The ear more quick of apprehension makes; 
+Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense, 
+It pays the hearing double recompense. 180 
+Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found; 
+Mine ear, I think it, brought me to thy sound, 
+But why unkindly didst thou leave me so? 
+Lys. Why should he stay, whom love doth 
+press to go? 
+Her. What love could press Lysander from 
+my side? 
+Lys. Lysander’s love, that would not 
+him bide, 
+Fair Helena, who more engilds the night 
+Than all yon fiery oes and eyes of light. 
+Why seek’st thou me? could not this make 
+thee know, 
+The hate I bear thee made me leave thee so? 
+Her, You speak not as you think; it can- 
+not ke. 
+
+
+let 
+
+
+Act III, Se. II] 
+
+
+Hel. Lo, she is one of this confederacy! 
+Now | perceive they have conjoin’d all three 
+To fashion this false sport, in spite of me. 
+Injurious Hermia! most ungrateful maid! 
+Have you conspired, have you with these con- 
+
+trived 7 
+To bait me with this foul derision? 
+Is all the counsel that we two have shared, 
+The sisters’ vows, the hours that we have spent 
+When we have chid the hasty-footed time 200 
+For parting us,—O, is it all forgot> 
+
+
+All school-days’ friendship, childhood inno- | 
+
+
+cence ? 
+We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, 
+Have with our needles created both one flower, 
+Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, 
+Both warbling of one song, both in one key, 
+As if our hands, our sides, voices and minds, 
+Had been incorporate. So we grew together, 
+Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, 
+But yet an union in partition; 
+Two lovely berries moulded on one stem; 
+So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart; 
+Two of the first, like coats in heraldry, 
+Due but to one and crowned with one crest, 
+And will you rent our ancient love asunder, 
+To join with men in scorning your poor friend? 
+It is not friendly, ‘tis not maidenly: 
+Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it, 
+Though I alone do feel the injury. 219 
+
+er. Jam amazed at your passionate words. 
+I scorn you not: it seems that you scorn me. 
+
+Hel. Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn, 
+To follow me and praise my eyes and face? 
+And made your other love, Demetrius, 
+
+Who even but now did spurn me with his foot, 
+To call me goddess, nymph, divine and rare, 
+Precious celestial? Wherefore speaks he this 
+To her he hates? and wherefore doth Lysander 
+Deny your love, so rich within his soul, 
+And tender me, forsooth, affection, 
+
+But by setting on, by your consent? 
+What though I be not so in grace as you, 
+So hung upon with love, so fortunate, 
+But miserable most, to love unloved ? 
+This you should pity rather than despise. 
+
+Her. 1 understand not what you mean by 
+
+this. 
+
+Hel. Avy, do, persever, counterfeit sad looks, 
+Make mouths upon me when | turn my back; 
+Wink each at other; hold the sweet jest up: 
+This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled. 
+If you have any pity, grace, or manners, 
+You would not make me such an argument. 
+But fare ye well; ‘tis partly my own fault; 
+Which death or absence soon shall remedy. 
+
+Lys. Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse: 
+My love, my life, my soul, fair Helena! 
+
+Hel. O excellent! 
+
+
+230 
+
+
+/A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM 
+
+
+209 
+Rer. Sweet, do not scorn her so. 
+Dem. If she cannot entreat, I can compel. 
+
+
+Lys. Thou canst compel no more than she 
+entreat. 
+Thy threats have no more strength than her 
+weak prayers. 250 
+Helen, | love thee; by my life, I do: 
+I swear by that which I will lose for thee, 
+To prove him false that says I love thee not. 
+
+
+Dem. 1 say I love thee more than he can do, 
+
+Lys. If thou say so, withdraw, and prove 
+it too. 
+
+Dem. Quick, come! 
+
+Her. Lysander, whereto tends all this? 
+
+Lys. Away, you Ethiope! 
+
+Dem. *No, no; he'll... 
+
+Seem to break loose; take on as you would 
+
+follow, 
+
+
+But yet come not; you are a tame man, go! 
+Lys. Hang off, thou cat, thou burr! vile 
+thing, let loose, 260 
+Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent! 
+Her. Why are you grown so rude? what 
+change is this > 
+Sweet love,— 
+Lys. Thy love! out, tawny Tartar, out! 
+Out, loathed medicine! hated potion, hence! 
+Her. Do you not jest? 
+Hel. “Yes, sooth; and so do you. 
+Lys. Demetrius, { will keep my word with 
+
+
+thee. 
+Dem. | would I had your bond, for I per. 
+ceive 
+A weak bond holds you: I'll not trust your 
+word, 
+
+
+Lys. What, should I hurt her, strike her, 
+kill her dead? 
+
+Although I hate her, I'l] not harm her so. 270 
+
+Her. What, can you do me greater harm 
+
+
+than hate? 
+Hate me! wherefore? O me! what news, my 
+love! 
+
+
+Am not I Hermia? are not you Lysander? 
+
+I am as fair now as I was erewhile. 
+
+Since night you loved-me; yet since night you 
+left me: 
+
+Why, then you left me—O, the gods forbid! — 
+
+In earnest, shall I say? 
+
+Lys. Ay, by my life; 
+
+And never did desire to see thee more. 
+
+Therefore be out of hope, of question, of 
+doubt; 
+
+Be certain, nothing truer; ‘tis no jest 
+
+
+That I do hate thee and love Helena. 
+
+
+280 
+
+
+Her. O me! you juggler! you canker- 
+blossom! 
+You thief of love! what, have you come by 
+night 
+
+
+And stolen my love’s heart from him? . 
+
+
+Z10 
+
+
+A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM , 
+
+
+[Acr II, Se. Ik 
+
+
+Hel. Fine, i' faith! 
+Have you no modesty, no maiden shame, 
+No touch of bashfulness? What, will you tear 
+Impatient answers from my gentle tongue? 
+Fie, fie! you counterfeit, you puppet, you! 
+Her, Puppet? why so? ay, that way goes 
+the game. 
+Now I perceive that she hath made compare 
+Between our statures; she hath urged her 
+height; 291 
+And with her personage, her tall personage, 
+Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail’d with 
+him. 
+And are you grown so high in his esteem, 
+Because I am so dwarfish and so low? 
+How low am I, thou painted Maypole? speak; 
+How low am I? I am not yet so low 
+But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes. 
+Hel. 1 pray you, though you mock me, 
+gentlemen, 
+Let her not hurt me: I was never curst; 300 
+I have no gift at all in shrewishness; 
+I am a right maid for my cowardice: 
+Let her not strikeme. You perhaps may think, 
+Because she is something lower than myself, 
+That I can match her. 
+Her. Lower! hark, again. 
+Hel. Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with 
+me. 
+I evermore did love you, Hermia, 
+Did ever keep your counsels, never wrong'd 
+you; 
+Save that, in love unto Demetrius, 
+I told him of your stealth unto this wood. 310 
+He follow'd you; for love I follow’d him; 
+But he hath chid me hence and threaten’d me 
+To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too: 
+And now, so you will let me quiet go, 
+To Athens will I bear my folly back 
+And follow you no further: let me go: 
+You see how simple and how fond I am. 
+Her. Why, get vou gone: who is’t that 
+hinders you? 
+Hel. A foolish heart, that I leave here be- 
+hind. 
+Her. What, with Lysander? 
+3 With Demetrius. 320 
+Lys. Be not afraid; she shall not harm thee, 
+Helena. 
+Dem. No, sir, she shall not, though you take 
+her part. 
+Hel.. O, when she’s angry, she is keen and 
+shrewd! 
+She was a vixen when she went to school ; 
+And though she be but little, she is fierce. 
+Her. ‘Little’ again! nothing but ‘low’ and 
+‘little’! 
+Why will you suffer her to flout me thus? 
+t me come to her. 
+
+
+Lys. Get you gone, you dwarf; 
+You minimus, of hindering knot-grass made; 
+You bead, you acorn. 
+
+Dem. You are too officious 330 
+In her behalf that scorns your services. 
+
+Let her alone; speak not of Helena; 
+Take not her part; for, if thou dost intend 
+Never so little show of love to her, 
+
+Thou shalt aby it. 
+
+Lys. Now she holds me not; 
+Now follow, if thou darest, to try whose right, 
+Of thine or mine, is most in Helena. 
+
+Dem, Follow! nay, I'll go with thee, cheek 
+
+by jole. [Exeunt Lysander and Demetrius. 
+
+Her. You, mistress, all this coil is ‘long of 
+
+you: 
+Nay, go not back. 
+
+Hel. I will not trust you, I, 340 
+Nor longer stay in your curst company. 
+Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray, 
+My legs are longer, though, to run away. [Exit. 
+
+Her. 1 am amazed, and know not what to 
+
+
+say. [Exit. 
+Obe. This is thy negligence: still thou mis- 
+takest, 
+
+
+Or else committ’st thy knaveries wilfully. 
+Puck. Believe me, king of shadows, I mis- 
+took, 
+Did you not tell me I should know the man 
+By the Athenian garments he had on? 
+And so far blameless proves my enterprise, 350 
+That I have ‘nointed an Athenian’s eyes; 
+And so far am I glad it so did sort 
+As this their jangling I esteem a sport. 
+Obe. Thou see’st these lovers seek a place 
+to fight: « 
+Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night: 
+The starry welkin cover thou anon 
+With drooping fog as black as Acheron, 
+And lead these testy rivals so astray 
+As one come not within another’s way. 
+
+
+Like to Lysander sometime frame thy tongue, — 
+
+
+Then stir Demetrius up with bitter wrong; 361 
+And sometime rail thou like Demetrius; 
+
+
+And from each other look thou lead them thus, 
+
+
+Till o'er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep _ 
+
+
+With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep. 
+Then crush this herb into Lysander’s eye; 
+Whose liquor hath this virtuous property, 
+
+
+To take from thence all error with his might, 
+
+
+And make his eyeballs roll with wonted sight. 
+
+When they next wake, all this derision 
+
+Shall seem a dream and fruitless vision, 
+
+And back to Athens shall the lovers wend, 
+
+With league whose date till death shall never 
+end 
+
+
+Whiles I in this affair do thee employ, 2 
+
+
+Ill to my queen and beg her Indian boy; 
+And then I will her charmed eve release 
+
+
+370 
+
+
+‘ 
+; 
+; 
+a 
+
+
+Act III, Sc. II] 
+
+
+From monster’s view, and all things shall be 
+
+
+peace. 
+Puck. My fairy lord, this must be done 
+with haste, 
+For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full 
+fast, 
+
+
+And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger: 380 
+At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here 
+and there, 
+Troop home to churchyards: damned spirits 
+all, 
+That in crossways and floods have burial, 
+Already to their wormy beds are gone; 
+For fear lest day should look their shames 
+upon, 
+They wilfully themselves exile from light 
+And must for aye consort with black-brow’d 
+night, 
+Obe. But we are spirits of another sort: 
+{ with the morning's love have oft made sport, 
+And, like a forester, the groves my tread, 390 
+Even till the eastern gate, all fiery red, 
+Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams, 
+_ Turns into yellow gold his salt green streams. 
+But, notwithstanding, haste; make no delay: 
+We may effect this business yet ere day. [ Exit. 
+Puck. Up and down, up and down, 
+I will lead them up and down: 
+I am fear'd in field and town: 
+Goblin, lead them up and down. 
+Here comes one. 400 
+
+
+Re-enter LYSANDER. 
+
+
+Lys. Where art thou, proud Demetrius? 
+speak thou now. 
+Puck. Here, villain; drawn and ready. 
+Where art thou? 
+Lys. 1 will be with thee straight. 
+Puck. Follow me, then, 
+To plainer ground. 
+
+
+[Exit Lysander, as following the voice. 
+
+
+Re-enter DEMETRIUS. 
+
+
+Dem. Lysander! speak again: 
+Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled? 
+Speak! In some bush? Where dost thou hide 
+
+thy head? 
+
+Puck. Thou coward, art thou bragging to 
+
+the stars, 
+Telling the bushes that thou look’st for wars, 
+And wilt not come? Come, recreant; come, 
+thou.child, 
+I ‘Il whip thee with a rod; he is defiled 410 
+That draws a sword on thee, 
+Dem. Yea, art thou there? 
+Puck. Follow my voice; we'll try no man- 
+
+
+“hood here. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’'S DREAM 
+
+
+2ii 
+
+
+Re-enter LYSANDER. 
+
+
+Lys. He goes before me and still dares me 
+on: 
+When I come where he calls, then he is gone. 
+The villain is much lighter-heel’d than I: 
+I follow’d fast, but faster he did fly; 
+That fallen am I in dark uneven way, 
+And here will rest me. [Lies down.] Come, 
+thou gentle day! 
+For if but once thou show me thy grey light, 
+I'll find Demetrius and revenge this spite. 420 
+[Sleeps. 
+Re-enter Puck and DEMETRIUS. 
+
+
+Puck. Ho, ho, ho! 
+thou not? 
+Dem. Abide me, if thou darest; for well 
+I wot 
+Thou runn’st before me, shifting every place, 
+And darest not stand, nor look me in the face. 
+Where art thou now ? 
+Puck. Come hither: I am here. 
+Dem. Nay, then, thou mock’st me. Thou 
+shalt buy thiz dear, 
+If ever I thy face by daylight see: 
+Now, go thy way. Faintness constraineth me 
+To measure out my length on this ccld bed. 
+By day's approach look to be visited. 430 
+[Lies down and sleeps. 
+
+
+Re-enter HELENA. 
+
+
+Hel. O weary night, O long and tedious night, 
+Abate thy hours! Shine comforts from the 
+east, 
+
+That I may back to Athens by daylight. 
+From these that my poor company detest: 
+And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow’s eye 
+
+Steal me awhile from mine own company. 
+[Lies down and sleeps. 
+Puck. Yet but three? Come one more; 
+Two of both kinds makes up four. 
+Here she comes, curst and sad: 
+Cupid is a knavish lad, 440 
+
+
+Thus to make poor females mad. 
+Re-enter Hernia, 
+Her. Never so weary, never so in woe, 
+
+
+Bedabbled with the dew and torn with briers, 
+I can no further crawl, no further go; 
+
+My legs can keep no pace with my desires. 
+Here will I rest me till the break of day. 
+Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray! 
+
+[Lies down and sleeps. 
+Puck. On the ground 
+
+Sleep sound; 
+
+I'll apply 
+
+To your eye, 
+Gentle lover, remedy. 
+[Squeezing the juice on Lysander’s eyes 
+
+When thou wekest, 
+
+
+Coward, why comest 
+
+
+450 
+
+
+212 
+
+
+Thou takest 
+True delight 
+In the sight 
+Of thy former lady's eye: 
+And the country proverb known, 
+That every man should take his own, 
+In your waking shall be shown: 460 
+Jack shall have Jill; 
+Nought shall go ill; 
+The man shall have his mare again, and all 
+shall be well. [Exit. 
+
+
+ACT IV. 
+
+
+Scene I. The same. Lysanper, DEMETRIUS. 
+HELENA, and Hermia lying asleep. 
+
+
+Enter Tirania and Bottom; PEASEBLOSsoM, 
+Coswes, Motuy MustarbsEED, and other 
+Fairies attending; Operon behind unseen. 
+
+
+Tita. Come, sit thee down upon this flowery 
+
+
+ed, 
+While I thy amiable cheeks do coy, 
+And stick musk-roses in thy sleek, smooth head, 
+And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy. 
+
+Bot. Where's Peaseblossom ? 
+
+Peas. Ready. 
+
+Bot. Scratch my head, Peaseblossom. 
+Where’s Mounsieur Cobweb? 
+
+Cob. Ready. - 9 
+
+Bot. Mounsieur Cobweb, good mounsieur, 
+get you your weapons in your hand, and kill 
+me a red-hipped humble-bee on the top of a 
+thistle; and, good mounsieur, bring me_ the 
+honey-bag. Do not fret yourself too much in 
+the action, mounsieur; and, good mounsieur, 
+have a care the honey-bag break not; I would 
+be loath to have you overflown with a honey- 
+bag, signior, Where’s Mounsieur Mustardseed > 
+
+Mus. Ready. 19 
+
+Bot. Give me your neaf, Mounsieur Mus- 
+tardseed. Pray you, leave your courtesy, 
+good mounsieur, 
+
+Mus. What's your will? 
+
+Bot. Nothing, good mounsieur, but to help 
+Cavalery Cobweb to scratch. I must to the bar- 
+ber’s, monsieur; for methinks | am marvellous 
+hairy about the face; and I am such a tender 
+ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch. 
+
+Tita. What, wilt thou hear some music, my 
+
+sweet love? 
+
+Bot. I have a reasonable good ear in music. 
+Let's have the tongs and the bones. 3] 
+
+Tita. Or say, sweet love, what thou desirest 
+
+to eat. 
+
+Bot. Truly, a peck of provender: I could 
+munch your good dry oats. Methinks I havea 
+great desire to a bottle of hay: good hay, sweet 
+hay, hath no fellow. 
+
+Tita, I have a venturous fairy that shall seek 
+
+
+A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM 
+
+
+fAcrsIVitSen 
+
+
+The squirrels hoard, and fetch thee new nuts. 
+Bot. | had rather have a handful or two of 
+dried peas. But, I pray you, let none of your 
+people stir me: I have an exposition of sleep 
+come upon me. 42 
+Tita, Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in 
+my arms, 
+Fairies, be gone, and be all ways away. 
+[Exeunt fairies, 
+So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle 
+Gentle entwist; the female ivy so 
+Enrings the barky fingers of the elm. 
+O, how I love thee! how I dote on thee! 
+[They sleep, 
+
+
+Enter Puck. 
+
+
+Obe. {Advancing] Welcome, good Robin, 
+See’st thou this sweet sight? 
+Her dotage now I do begin to pity: 50 
+
+For, meeting her of late behind the wood. 
+Seeking sweet favours for this hateful fool, 
+I did upbraid her and fall out with her; 
+For she his hairy temples then had rounded 
+With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers; 
+And that same dew, which sometime on the 
+buds 
+Was wont to swell like round and orient pearls, 
+Stood now within the pretty flowerets’ eyes 
+Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail. 
+When I had at my pleasure taunted her 6h 
+And she in mild terms begg'd my patience, 
+I then did ask of her her changeling child; 
+Which straight she gave me, and her fairy seny 
+To bear him to my bower in fairy land. 
+And now I have the boy, I will undo 
+This hateful imperfection of her eyes: 
+And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp ~ 
+From off the head of this Athenian swain; 
+That, he awaking when the other do, 
+May all to Athens back again repair 
+And think no more of this night’s accidents 
+But as the fierce vexation of a dream, 
+Bui first I will release the fairy queen, 
+Be as thou wast wont to be; 
+See as thou wast wont to see: 
+Dian’s bud o'er Cupid’s flower 
+Hath such force and blessed power. 
+Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen, 
+Tita, My Oberon! what visions have | seen! 
+Methought I was enamour'd of an ass. 80 
+Obe. There lies your love. 
+Tita, How came these things tc pass? 
+O, how mine eyes do loathe his visage now! 
+Obe. Silence awhile, Robin, take off this 
+head. 
+Titania, music call; and strike more dead 
+Than common sleep of all these five the sense, 
+Tita. Music, ho! music, such as charmeth 
+sleep! [Music. still, 
+
+
+70 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. I] 
+
+
+A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM 
+
+
+213 
+
+
+Puck. Now, when thou wakest, with thine 
+own fool’s eyes peep. 
++ Obe. Sound, music! Come, my queen, take 
+hands with me, 
+And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be. 
+Now thou and | are new in amity 
+And will to-morrow midnight solemnly 
+Dance in Duke Theseus’ house triumphantly 
+And bless it to all fair prosperity: 
+There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be 
+Wedded, with Vheseus, all in jollity. 
+Puck. Fairy king, attend, and mark: 
+I do hear the morning lark. 
+
+
+Obe. Then, my queen, in silence sad, 
+Trip we after night’s shade: 100 
+We the globe can compass soon, 
+Swifter than the wandering moon. 
+
+Tita. Come, my lord, and in our flight 
+
+
+Tell me how it came this night 
+That I sleeping here was found 
+With these mortals on the ground. 
+[Exeunt. 
+[Horns winded within. 
+
+
+Hiprotyta, Eceus, and 
+
+
+train. 
+
+
+Enter THESEus, 
+
+
+The. Go, one of you, find out the forester; 
+For now our observation is perform'd; 
+
+And since we have the vaward of the day, 
+My love shall hear the music of my hounds. 
+Uncouple in the western valley; let them go: 
+Dispatch, I say, and find the forester. 
+
+[Exit an Attendant. 
+We will, fair queen, up to the mountain’s top 
+And mark the musical confusion 
+Of hounds and echo in conjunction. 
+
+Hip. 1 was with Hercules and Cadmus once, 
+When in a wood of Crete they bay’d the bear 
+With hounds of Sparta: never did I hear 
+Such gallant chiding; for, besides the groves, 
+The skies, the fountains, every region near 120 
+Seem’d all one mutual cry: I never heard 
+So musical a discord, such sweet thunder. 
+
+The. My hounds are bred out of the Spar- 
+tan kind, 
+
+So flew'd, so sanded, and their heads are hung 
+With ears that sweep away the morning dew; 
+Crook-knee’d, and dew-lapp'd like Thessalian 
+
+bulls; 
+Slow in pursuit. but match’d in mouth like bells, 
+Each under each. A cry more tuneable 
+Was never holla’d to, nor cheer’d with horn, 
+in Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly: 130 
+Judge when you hear. But, soft! what nymphs 
+are these? 
+Ege. My lord, this is my daughter here 
+asleep; 
+And this Lysander; this Demetrius is; 
+This Helena, old Nedar’s Helena: 
+
+
+I wonder of their being here together. 
+The. No doubt they rose up early to ob- 
+serve 
+The rite of May, and, hearing our intent, 
+Came here in grace of our solemnity. 
+But speak, Egeus; is not this the day 
+That Hermia should give answer of her choice? 
+Ege. It is, my lord. 141 
+The. Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with 
+their horns. [Horns and shouts within. 
+Lys., Dem., Hel., and Her., wake and 
+start up. 
+Good morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is past 
+Begin these wood-birds but to couple now? 
+Lys. Pardon, my lord. 
+The. I pray you all, stand up. 
+I know you two are rival enemies: 
+How comes this gentle concord in the world, 
+That hatred is so far from jealousy, 
+To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity > 
+Lys. My lord, I shall reply amazedly, 156 
+Half sleep, half waking: but as yet, I swear, 
+I cannot truly say how I came here; 
+But, as I think,—for truly would I speak, 
+And now I do bethink me, so it is,— 
+I came with Hermia hither: our intent 
+Was to be gone from Athens, where we might, 
+Without the peril of the Athenian law. 
+Ege. Enough, enough, my lord; you have 
+enough: 
+I beg the law, the law, upon his head. 
+They would have stolen away; they would, 
+Demetrius, 60 
+Thereby to have defeated you and me, 
+You of your wife and me of my consent, 
+Of my consent that she should be your wife. 
+Dem. My lord, fair Helen told me of their 
+stealth, 
+Of this their purpose hither to this wood; 
+And I in fury hither follow’d them, 
+Fair Helena in fancy following me. 
+But, my good lord, I wot not by what power,— 
+But by some power it is,—my love to Hermia, 
+Melted as the snow, seems to me now 170 
+As the remembrance of an idle gawd 
+Which in my childhood I did dote upon; 
+And all the faith, the virtue of my heart, 
+The object and the pleasure of mine eye, 
+Is only Helena. To her, my lord, 
+Was I betroth’d ere I saw Hermia: 
+But, like in sickness, did I loathe this food; 
+But, as in health, come to my natural taste, 
+Now I do wish it, love it, long for it, 
+And will for evermore be true to it. 180 
+The. Fair lovers, you are fortunately met: 
+Of this discourse we more will hear anon- 
+Egeus, I will overbear your will; 
+For in the temple, by and by, with us 
+These couples shall eternally be knit: 
+
+
+214 
+
+
+And, for the morning now is something worn, 
+
+Our purposed hunting shall be set aside. 
+
+Away with us to Athens; three and three, 
+
+We ‘ii hold a feast in great solemnity. 
+
+Come, Hippolyta. 190 
+
+[Exeunt The., Hip., Ege., and train. 
+Dem. These things seem small and undis- 
+tinguishable, 
+
+Like far-off mountains turned into clouds. 
+
+Her. Methinks I see these things with parted 
+
+eye, 
+When every thing seems double. 
+
+Hel. So methinks: 
+And I have found Demetrius like a jewel, 
+Mine own, and not mine own. 
+
+Dem. Are you sure 
+That we are awake? It seems to me 
+That yet we sleep, we dream. Do not you 
+
+think 
+The duke was here, and bid us follow him? 199 
+
+Her. Yea; and my father. 
+
+Hel. And Hippolyta. 
+
+Lys. And he did bid us follow to the temple. 
+
+Dem. Why, then, we are away; let’s follow 
+
+him; ’ 
+And by the way let us recount our dréams. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+Bot. [Awaking] When my cue comes, call 
+me, and I will answer: my next is, “Most fair 
+Pyramus.’ Heigh-ho! Peter Quince! Flute, 
+the bellows-mender! Snout, the tinker! Starve- 
+ling! God's my life, stolen hence, and left me 
+asleep! I have had a most rare vision. | 
+have had a dream, past the wit of man to say 
+what dream it was: man is but an ass, if he go 
+about to expound this dream. Methought | 
+was—there is no man can tell what. Methought 
+I was,—and methought I had,—but man is but 
+a patched fool, if he will offer to say what me- 
+thought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, 
+the ear of man hath not seen, man’s hand is not 
+able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his 
+heart to report, what my dream was. I will 
+get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this 
+dream: it shall be called Bottom’s Dream, be- 
+cause it*hath no bottom; and I will sing it in 
+the latter end of a play, before the duke: per- 
+adventure, to make it the more gracious} | 
+shall sing it at her death. [Exit. 
+
+
+Scene II. Athens. Quince’s house. 
+
+
+Enter Quince, FLute, SNout, and 
+STARVELING. 
+
+
+Quin. Have you sent to Bottom's house? is 
+he come home yet? 
+
+Star. He cannot be heard of, Outof doubt 
+he is transported. 
+
+flu. If he come not, then the play is marred: 
+it goes not forward, doth it? 
+
+
+A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM 
+
+
+13 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. 1 
+
+
+Quin. It is not possible: you have not ae 
+man in all Athens able to discharge Pyramus 
+but he. i 
+
+Flu. No, he hath simply the best wit of any 
+handicraft man in Athens. 10 
+
+Quin. Yea, and the best person too; and he ‘ 
+1s a very paramour for a sweet voice. 4 
+
+Fla, You must say ‘paragon:’ a paramour 
+is, God bless us, a thing of naught. 
+
+
+Enter Snuc, 
+
+
+Snug. Masters, the duke is coming from the — 
+temple, and there is two or three lords and _ 
+ladies more married: if our sport had gone fore 
+ward, we had all been made men. Is 
+
+Flu. O sweet bully Bottom! Thus hath he ¥ 
+lost sixpence a day during his life; he could not _ 
+have ‘scaped sixpence a day: an the duke had . 
+not given him sixpence a day for playing Pyra- ey 
+mus, I'll be hanged; he would have deserved ni 
+it: sixpence a day in Pyramus, or nothing. _— 
+
+Enter Bottom. {| 
+
+Bot. Where are these lads? where are these - 
+hearts > e 
+
+Quin. Bottom! O most courageous day! O 
+most happy hour! i 
+
+Bot. Masters, I am to discourse wonders: 
+but ask me not what; for if I tell you, | am no 
+true Athenian. I will tell you every thing, 
+right as it fell out. & 
+
+Quin. Let us hear, sweet Bottom. fad 
+
+Bot. Not a word of me. All I wilt tell 
+you is, that the duke hath dined. Get your 
+apparel together, good strings to your beards, 
+new ribbonseto your pumps; meet presently at 
+the palace; every man look o'er his part; for 
+the short and the long is, our play is preferred, — 
+In any case, let Thisby have clean linen; and 
+let not him that plays the lion pare his nails, 
+for they shall hang out for the. lion’s claws, — 
+And, most dear actors, eat no onions nor gar. 
+lic, for we are to utter sweet breath; and I do 
+not doubt but to hear them say, it is a sweet — 
+comedy. No more words: away! go, away! 
+[Exeunt, — 
+
+, 
+
+
+ACT V. 
+Scene I. Athens. The palace of THESEUS, 
+
+
+Enter Tueseus, Hipporyta, PHILOSTRATE, — 
+Lords, and Attendants. ‘ 
+
+
+Hip. "Tis strange, my Theseus, that these 
+lovers speak of, ¢ 
+The. More strange than true: I never may 
+believe 
+These antique fables, nor these fairy toys. 4 
+Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, 
+Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend . 
+More than cool reason ever comprehends, 
+The lunatic, the lover and the poet 
+
+
+Are of imagination all compact: 
+
+One sees more devils than vast hell can hold, 
+
+That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic, 
+
+Sees Helen’s beauty in a brow of Egypt: 11 
+
+The poet’s eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, 
+
+Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth 
+to heaven; 
+
+And as imagination bodies forth 
+
+The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen 
+
+Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing 
+
+A local habitation and a name. 
+
+Such tricks hath strong imagination, 
+
+‘That, if it would but apprehend some joy, 
+
+It comprehends some bringer of that joy; 
+
+Or in the night, imagining some fear, 
+
+How easy is a bush supposed a bear! 
+
+_ Hip. Butall the story of the night told over, 
+
+And all their minds transfigured so together, 
+
+More witnesseth than fancy’s images 
+
+And grows to something of great constancy; 
+
+But, howsoever, strange and admirable. 
+
+_ The. Here come the lovers, full of joy and 
+mirth. 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+Enter LysanpeR, Demetrius, Hernia, and 
+HELENA. 
+
+
+Joy, gentle friends! joy and fresh days of love 
+Accompany your hearts! 
+
+a Lys. More than to us 30 
+Wait in your royal walks, your board, your 
+= bed! 
+
+
+_ The. Come now; what masques, what! 
+
+
+dances shall we have, 
+
+To wear away this long age of three hours 
+
+Between our after-supper and bed-time > 
+
+‘Where is our usual manager of mirth? 
+
+What revels are in hand? Is there no play, 
+
+To ease the anguish of a torturing hour? 
+
+all Philostrate. 
+
+Phil. Here, mighty Theseus. 
+
+The. Say, what abridgement have you for 
+
+this evening > 
+
+‘What masque? what music? How shall we 
+
+‘_ beguile 
+
+The lazy. time, if not with some delight? 
+
+_ Phil. There is a brief how many sports are 
+
+@ ripe: 
+
+ake choice of which your highness will see 
+
+ey trst. [Giving a paper. 
+
+The. [Reads] ‘The battle with the Centaurs, 
+to be sung 
+
+By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.’ 
+
+‘We'll none of that: that have I told my love, 
+
+In glory of my kinsman Hercules. 
+
+[Reads] ‘The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals, 
+
+Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage.” 
+
+That is an old device; and it was play’'d 50 
+
+When I from Thebes came last a conqueror. 
+
+
+¥ 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM 
+
+
+215 
+[Reads] “The thrice three Muses mourning 
+for the death 
+Of Learning, late deceased in beggary.’ 
+That is some satire, keen and critical, 
+Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony. 
+[Reads] *A tedious brief scene of young Py- 
+ramus i 
+And his love Thisbe; very tragical mirth.” 
+Merry and tragical! tedious and brief! 
+That is, hot ice and wondrous strange snow. 
+How shall we find the concord of this discord? 
+Phil. A play there is, my lord, some fen 
+words long, 6; 
+Which is as brief as I have known a play; 
+But by ten words, my lord, it is too long, 
+Which makes it tedious; for in all the play 
+There is not one word apt, one player fitted: 
+And tragical, my noble lord, it is; 
+For Pyramus therein doth kill himself. 
+Which, when I saw rehearsed, I must confess, 
+Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears 
+The passion of loud laughter never shed. 76 
+The. What are they that do play it? 
+Phil. Hard-handed men that work in Ath- 
+ens here, 
+Which never labour’d in their minds till now, 
+And now have toil’d their unbreathed memories 
+With this same play, against your nuptial. 
+The. And we will hear it. 
+Phil. No, my noble lord; 
+It is not for you: I have heard it over, 
+And it is nothing, nothing in the world; 
+Unless you can find sport in their intents, 
+Extremely stretch’d and conn’d with cruel pai, 
+To do you service, 
+The. I will hear that play; 8] 
+For never anything can be amiss, 
+When simpleness and duty tender it. 
+Go, bring them in: and take your places, 
+ladies. [Exit Philostrate. 
+Hip. 1 love not to see wretchedness o’er- 
+charged 
+And duty in his service perishing, 
+The. Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no 
+such thing. 
+Hip. He says they can do nothing in this 
+kind. 
+The kinder we, to give them thanks 
+for nothing. 
+Our sport shall be to take what they mistake: 
+And what poor duty cannot do, noble respect 
+1 Takes it in might, not merit. 
+Where I have come, great clerks have purposed 
+To greet me with premeditated welcomes; 
+Where I have seen them shiver and look pale, 
+Make periods in the midst of sentences, 
+Throttle their practised accent in their fears 
+And in conclusion dumbly have broke off, 
+Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet. 
+
+
+#6 
+
+
+Out of this silence yet I pick’d a welcome; 
+And in the modesty of fearful duty 
+
+i read as much from the rattling tongue 
+Of saucy and audacious eloquence. 
+
+Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity 
+Ta least speak most, to my capacity. 
+
+
+Re-enter PHiLosTRATE. 
+
+
+Phil. So please your grace, the Prologue is 
+address'd. 
+The. Let him approach. 
+[Flourish of trumpets. 
+
+
+Enter Quince for the Prologue. 
+
+
+Pro. If we offend, it is with our good will, 
+That you should think, we come not to of- 
+fend, 
+But with good will. To show our simple skill, 
+That is the true beginning of our end. 111 
+Consider then we come but in despite. 
+We do not come as minding to content you, 
+Our true intent is. All for your delight 
+We are not here. That you should here re- 
+pent you, 
+The actors are at hand and by their show 
+‘You shall know all that you are like to know. 
+The. This fellow doth not stand upon points. 
+Lys. He hath rid his prologue like a rough 
+colt; he knows not the stop. A good moral, 
+my lord: it is not enough to speak, but to speak 
+true. F 
+Hip. Irideed he hath piayed on his pro- 
+logue like'a child on a recorder; a sound, but 
+not in government. 
+The. His speech was like a tangled chain: 
+nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who is 
+next> 
+
+
+Enter Pyramus and TuisBe, WALL, 
+MoonsuinE, and Lion. 
+
+
+Pro. Gentles, perchance you wonder at this 
+show; 
+But wonder on, till truth make all things 
+plain. 
+This man is Pyramus, if you would know; 
+This beauteous lady Thisby is certain. 
+This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth 
+present 
+Wall, that vile Wall which did these lovers 
+sunder; 
+And through Wall’s chink, poor souls, they 
+are content . 
+To whisper. At the which let no man wonder. 
+This man, with lanthorn, dog, and bush of 
+thorn, 
+Presenteth Moonshine; 
+know, 
+By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn 
+To meet at Ninus" tomb, there, there to woo. 
+
+
+for, if you will 
+
+
+A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM 
+
+
+[Act V; Se. I 
+This grisly beast, which Lion hight by name, 
+The trusty Thisby, coming first by night, 141) 
+Did scare away, or rather did affright; ‘ 
+And, as she fled, her mantle she did fall, 
+
+Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did 
+
+stain. | 
+Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth and tall, | 
+
+And finds his trusty Thisby’s mantle slain; 
+woke with blade, with bloody blameful) 
+
+bla e, : 
+
+He bravely broach’d his boiling bloody 
+
+breast; 
+And Thisby, tarrying in mulberry shade, 149 
+
+His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest, 
+Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain! 
+At large discourse, while here they do remain, 
+[Exeunt Prologue, Pyramus, Thisbe, Lion,| 
+
+and Moonshine.| 
+
+The. I wonder if the lion be to speak. — 
+
+Dem. No wonder, my lord; one lion may, 
+when many asses do. 4 
+
+
+Wall. In this same interlude it doth befall] 
+That I, one Snout by name, present a wall: | 
+And such a wall, as I would have you think,| 
+That had in it a crannied hole or chink, | 
+Through which the lovers, Pyramus and 
+
+Thisby, a 
+Did whisper often very secretly. 161 
+This loam, this rough-cast and this stone doth 
+
+show : i 
+That I am that same wall; the truth is so: | 
+And this the cranny is, right and sinister, 
+Through which the fearful lovers are to 
+
+whisper. # 
+
+The. Would you desire lime and hair to! 
+speak better?’ Bf 
+
+Dem. It is the wittiest 
+heerd discourse, my lord. 
+
+
+partition that ever 
+
+
+Re-enter PyRAMUS. 
+
+
+The. Pyramus draws near the wall: silence! 
+Pyr. O grim-look'd night! O night with hue| 
+so black! / 171 
+
+O night, which ever art when day is not! | 
+O night, O night! alack, alack, alack, il 
+I fear my Thisby’s promise is forgot! f 
+And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall, — 
+That stand’st between her father’s ground 
+and mine! ‘” 
+Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall, 
+Show me thy chink, to blink through with) 
+mine eyne! [Wall holds up his fingers. 
+Thanks, courteous wall: Jove shield thee well! 
+for this! : 
+But what see 12 No Thisby do I see. 
+O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss! 
+Curst be thy stones for thus deceiving me! _ 
+The. The wall, methinks, being sensible. | 
+
+
+should curse again. 
+
+
+ae 
+
+
+‘es Thy ae 
+
+
+yr. No. in truth, sir, he should not. ‘De- 
+mg me’ is Thisby’s cue: she is to enter 
+w, and I am to spy her through the wall. 
+u shall see, it will fall pat as I told you. 
+onder she comes. 
+
+
+Re-enter THISBE, 
+
+
+is. O wall, full often hast thou heard my 
+
+| moans, 190 
+
+__ For parting my fair Pyramus and me! 
+
+~My cherry lips have often kiss’d thy stones, 
+Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in 
+
+thee. 
+
+_ Pyr. I see a voice: now will | to the chink, 
+
+
+My love thou art, my love I think. 
+
+Pyr. Think what thou wilt, I am thy lov- 
+er’s grace; 
+
+d, like Limander, am I trusty still. 
+
+This. And I like Helen, till the Fates me 
+
+kill. 199 
+
+Pyr. Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true. 
+
+_ This. As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you. 
+
+Pyr. O, kiss me through the hole of this 
+
+vile wall! 
+
+This. | kiss the wall’s hole, not your lips at 
+
+all. 
+
+Pyr. Wilt thou at Ninny’s tomb meet me 
+
+_ straightway ? 
+
+This. “Tide life, ‘tide death, I come with- 
+
+out delay. [Exeunt Pyramus and Thisbe. 
+Wall. Thus have I, Wall, my part dis- 
+
+charged so; 
+
+And, being done, thus Wall away et go. 
+
+yey Exit, 
+
+The. Now is the mural down between ihe 
+
+neighbours. 
+
+_ Dem. No remedy, my lord, when walls are 
+
+so wilful to hear without warning. 211 
+
+_ Hip. This is the silliest stuff that ever I 
+
+
+he. The best in this kind are but shad- 
+; and the worst are no worse, if imagina- 
+amend them. 
+
+ip. It must be your imagination then, and 
+theirs. 
+
+The. If we imagine no worse of them than 
+y of themselves, they may pass for excel- 
+t men. Here come two noble beasts in, a 
+n and a lion. : 221 
+
+
+Re-enter Lion and MoonsHine. 
+
+
+ae 
+Lion. You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts 
+__ do fear 
+The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps 
+on floor, 
+M ay now perchance both quake and oes 
+| here, 
+
+
+Le MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM 
+
+
+27 
+
+
+When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar. 
+Then know that I, one Snug the joiner, am 
+A lion-fell, nor else no lion’s dam; 
+
+For, if I should as lion come in strife 
+Into this place, ‘twere pity on my life. 
+
+The. A very gentle beast, and of a good 
+conscience. “231 
+
+Dem. The very best at a beast, my lord, 
+that e’er I saw. 
+
+Lys. This lion is a very fox for his valour. 
+. The. True; and a goose for his discretion, 
+
+Dem. Not so, my lord; for his valour can- 
+not carry his discretion; and the fox carries 
+the goose. 
+
+The. His discretion, I am sure, cannot 
+carry his valour; for the goose carries not the 
+fox. It is well: leave it to his discretion, and 
+let us listen to the moon. 
+
+Moon. This lanthorn doth the horned moon 
+
+present ; — 
+
+Dem. He should have worn the horns on 
+his head. 
+
+The. He is no crescent, and his horns are 
+invisible within the circumference, it 
+
+Moon. This lanthorn doth the horned moon 
+
+present; 
+Myself the man i’ the moon do seem to be. 
+
+The. This is the greatest error of all the 
+rest: the man should be put into the lanthorn. 
+How is it else the man i’ the moon? 
+
+Dem. He dares not come there for the 
+candle; for, you see, it is already in snuff. 
+
+Hip. I am aweary of this moon: would he 
+would change! 
+
+The. It appears, by his small light of dis- 
+cretion, that he is in the wane; but yet, in 
+courtesy, in all reason, we must stay the time. 
+
+Lys. Proceed, Moon. 260 
+
+Moon. All that I have to say, is, to tell you 
+that the lanthorn is the moon; I, the man in 
+the moon; this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; 
+and this dog, my dog. 
+
+Dem. Why, all these should be in the lan- 
+thorn; for all these are in the moon. Bui, 
+silence! here comes Thisbe. 
+
+
+Re-enter THISBE. 
+
+
+This. This is old Ninny’s tomb. Where is 
+my love? 
+
+Lion. [Roaring] Oh [Thisbe runs off. 
+
+Dem. Well roared, Lion. 270 
+
+The. Well run, Thisbe. 
+
+Hip. Well shone, Moon. Truly, the moon 
+shines with a good grace, 
+
+[The Lion shakes Thisbe’s mantle, and exit. 
+
+The. Well moused, Lion. 
+
+Lys. And so the lion vanished. 
+
+Dem. And then came Pyramus, 
+
+
+218 
+
+
+4 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. i 
+
+
+Re-enter Pyramus. 
+Pyr. Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny 
+
+
+beams; 
+1 thank thee, Moon, for shining now so 
+bright; 
+For, by thy gracious, golden, glittering gleams, 
+
+{ trust to take of truest Thisby sight. 280 ° 
+
+But stay, O spite! \ 
+
+But mark, poor knight, 
+What dreadful dole is here! 
+
+Eyes, do you see? 
+
+How can it be? | 
+O dainty duck! O dear! 
+
+Thy mantle good, : 
+
+What, stain’d with blood! : 
+Approach, ye Furies fell! 
+
+O Fates, come, come, 290 | 
+
+Cut thread and thrum; ; 
+Quail, crush, conclude, and quell! 
+
+The. This passion, and the death of a dear | 
+friend, would go near to make a man look ' 
+sad, 
+
+Hip. Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man. 
+Pyr. O wherefore, Nature, didst thou lions 
+
+frame? 
+
+Since lion vile hath here deflower'd my 
+
+dear: 
+Which is—no, no—which was the fairest dame 
+
+That lived, that loved, that liked, that look’d 
+
+with cheer. 
+Come, tears, confound; 300 
+Out, sword, and wound 
+The pap of Pyramus; 
+Ay, that left pap, 
+Where heart doth hop: [Siabs himself. 
+Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. 
+Now am I dead, 
+Now am I! fled; 
+My soul is in the sky: 
+Tongue, lose thy light; 309 
+Moon, take thy flight: [Exit Moonshine. 
+Now die, die, die, die, die. [Dies. 
+
+Dem. No die, but an ace, for him; for he 
+is but one. : 
+
+Lys. Less than an ace, man; for he is 
+dead; he is nothing. 
+
+The. With the help of a surgeon he might 
+yet recover, and prove an ass. 
+
+Hip. How chance Moonshine is gone be- 
+fore Thisbe comes back and finds her lover? 
+
+The. She will find him by starlight. Here 
+she comes; and her passion ends the play. 321 
+
+Re-enter THISBE. 
+
+Hip. Methinks she should not use a long 
+one for such a Pyramus: I hope she will be 
+brief. 
+
+Dem. A mote will turn the balance, which 
+Pyramus, which Thisbe, is the better; he for 
+
+
+NN 
+
+
+a man, God warrant us; she for a woman, | 
+God bless us. 
+Lys. She hath spied him already with those | 
+sweet eyes. i) 
+Dem. And thus she means, videlicet:— 
+This. Asleep, my love? 331 
+What, dead, my dove? ( 
+O Pyramus, arise! 
+Speak, speak. Quite dumb? 
+Dead, dead? A tomb 
+Must cover thy sweet eyes. 
+These lily lips, 
+This cherry nose, 
+These yellow cowslip cheeks, 
+Are gone, are gone: 
+Lovers, make moan: 
+His eyes were green as leeks, 
+O Sisters Three, 
+Come, come to me, 
+With hands as pale as milk; 
+Lay them in gore, 
+Since you have shore \ 
+With shears his thread of silk. | 
+Tongue, not a word: ai 
+Come, trusty sword; 350 | 
+Come, blade, my breast imbrue: vi 
+[Stabs herself. | 
+And, farewell, friends; | 
+Thus Thisby ends: \ 
+Adieu, adieu, adieu. [Dies. | 
+The. Moonshine and Lion are left to bury | 
+the dead. 
+Dem. Ay, and Wall too. he 
+Bot. [Starting up] No, I assure you; the| 
+wall is down that parted their fathers. Will it) 
+please you to see the epilogue, or to hear a) 
+Bergomask dance between two of our cem-| 
+pany? | 
+The. No epilogue, I pray you; for your | 
+play needs no excuse. Never excuse; for when | 
+the players are all dead, there need none to 
+be blamed. Marry, if he that writ it had | 
+played Pyramus and hanged himself in| 
+Thisbe’s garter, it would have been a fine. 
+tragedy: and so it is, truly; and very notably? 
+discharged. But, come, your Bergomask: let 
+your epilogue alone. [A dance, | 
+The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve: _ 
+Lovers, to bed; ‘tis almost fairy time. ~ 371) 
+I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn | 
+As much as we this night have overwatch’d. | 
+This palpable-gross play hath well beguiled | 
+The heavy gait of night. Sweet friends, to) 
+bed. >| 
+A fortnight hold we this solemnity, 
+In nightly revels and new jollity. 
+
+
+Enter Puck. 
+Puck. Now the hungry lion roars 
+
+
+4 Obe. 
+
+
+' 
+
+
+A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'’S DREAM 
+
+
+219 
+
+
+And the wolf behowls the moon; 
+Whilst the heavy ploughman snores, 
+All with weary task fordone. 
+Now the wasted brands do glow, 
+Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud, 
+Puts the wretch that lies in woe 
+In remembrance of a shroud. 
+Now it is the time of night 
+That the graves all gaping wide, 
+Every one lets forth his sprite, 
+In the church-way paths to glide: 
+_ And we fairies, that do run 
+By the triple Hecate’s team, 
+From the presence of the sun, 
+Following darkness like a dream, 
+Now are frolic: not a mouse 
+Shall disturb this hallow'd house: 
+I am sent with broom before, 
+To sweep the dust behind the door. 
+
+
+Enter OBERON and Titania with their train. 
+
+
+380 
+
+
+390 
+
+
+Through the house give glimmering 
+light, 
+
+By the dead and drowsy fire: 
+Every elf and fairy sprite 
+
+Hop as light as bird from brier; 
+And this ditty, after me, 
+Sing, and dance it trippingly. 
+
+
+400 
+
+
+Tita. First, rehearse your song by rote, 
+
+
+_ To the best bride-bed will we, 
+
+
+—_ 
+
+
+_ To each word a warbling note: 
+- Hand in hand, with fairy grace, 
+Will we sing, and bless this place. 
+[Song and dance. 
+
+
+~Obe. Now, until the break of day, 
+
+
+Through this house each fairy stray. 4 
+10 
+
+
+Puck. If we shadows have offended, 
+
+
+Which by us shall blessed be; 
+And the issue there create 
+
+Ever shall be fortunate. 
+
+So shall all the couples three 
+Ever true in loving be; 
+
+And the blots of Nature’s hand 
+Shall not in their issue stand; 
+Never mole, hare lip, nor scar, 
+Nor mark prodigious, such as are 
+
+
+Despised in nativity, 420 
+
+
+Shall upon their children be. 
+
+
+With this field-dew consecrate, 
+Every fairy take his gait; 
+And each several chamber bless, 
+Through this palace, with sweet peace; 
+And the owner of it blest 
+Ever shall in safety rest. 
+Trip away; make no stay; 
+Meet me all by break of day. 
+
+[Exeuni Oberon, Titania, and train. 
+
+430 
+Think but this, and all is mended, 
+That you have but slumber’d here 
+While these visions did appear. 
+And this weak and idle theme, 
+No more yielding but a dream, 
+Gentles, do not reprehend: 
+If you pardon, we will mend: 
+And, as I am an honest Puck, 
+If we have unearned luck 
+Now to ‘scape the serpent’s tongue, 
+We will make amends ere long; 
+Else the Puck a liar call: 
+So, good night unto you all. 
+Give me your hands, if we be friends, 
+And Robin shall restore amends. 
+
+
+440 
+
+
+[Exit 
+
+
+THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONZE 
+
+
+The Duke oF VENICE. 
+The Prince or Morocco, 
+The Prince or ARRacon, 
+ANTONIO, a merchant of Venice, 
+
+BassAanlo, his friend, suitor likewise to Portia. 
+SALANIO, 
+
+SALARINO, iar to Antonio and Bassanio, 
+GraTIANno, { 
+Sacerio, J 
+
+LorENzo, in love with Jessica. 
+
+SHYLOCK, a rich Jew. 
+
+TuBAL, a Jew, his friend, 
+
+LaunceLot Gosso, the clown, servant to 
+
+
+Shylock. 
+
+
+aso to Portia. 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+
+
+Scene I. Venice. A street. 
+Enter ANTONIO, SALARINO, and SALANIO. 
+
+
+Ant. In sooth, I know not why I amso sad: 
+It wearies me; you say it wearies you; 
+
+But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, 
+What stuff ‘tis made of, whereof it is born, 
+
+I am to learn; 
+
+And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, 
+That I have much ado to know myself. 
+
+Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean; 
+There, where your argosies with portly sail, 
+Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood, 10 
+Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea, 
+
+Do overpeer the petty traffickers, 
+
+That curtsy to them, do them reverence, 
+
+As they fly by them with their woven wings. 
+Salan. Believe me, sir, had I such ven- 
+
+ture forth, 
+
+The better part of my affections would 
+
+Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still 
+
+Plucking the grass to know where sits the wind, 
+
+Peering in maps for ports and piers and roads; 
+
+And every object that might make me fear 20 
+
+Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt 
+
+ould make me sad. 
+
+Salar. My wind cooling my broth 
+Would blow me to an ague, when I thought 
+What harm a wind too great at sea might do. 
+[ should not see the sandy hour-glass run, 
+But I should think of shallows and of flats, 
+And see my wealthy Andrew dock’d in sand, 
+Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs 
+To kiss her burial. Should I go to church 
+
+
+220 
+
+
+Oxp Gosso, father to Launcelot. 
+LEONARDO, servant to Bassanio. 
+BaLTHasar, 
+
+
+servants to. Portia. 
+STEPHANO, { bata 
+
+
+Portia, a rich heiress, 
+Nerissa, her waiting-maid. 
+Jessica, daughter to Shylock. 
+
+
+Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Cour 
+of Justice, Gaoler, Servants to Portia, 
+and other Attendants. 
+
+
+ScENE: Partly at Venice, and parily at Bel-— 
+mont, the seat of Portia, on the Continent 
+
+
+And see the holy edifice of stone, 30 || 
+And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks, | 
+Which touch ng but my gentle vessel's side, _ 
+Would scatter all her spices on the stream, | 
+|Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks, iy 
+And, in a word, but even now worth this, 
+And now worth nothing? Shall I have the | 
+thought ‘a 
+To think on this, and shall I lack the thought | 
+That Gy a thing bechanced would make me 
+sad? « 
+But tell not me; | know, Antonio eg 
+Is sad to think upon his merchandise. 40 
+Ant. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune 
+for it, : a 
+My ventures are not in one bottom trusted. 
+Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate j 
+Upon the fortune of this present year: 
+Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad, 
+
+
+Salar. Why, then you are in love. : 
+Ant. Fie, fiel 
+Salar, Not in love neither? 
+
+
+Then let 
+say you are sad, ar 
+Because you are not merry: and “twere as easy 
+For you to laugh and leap and say you are 
+
+merry, eh 
+Because you are not sad. Now, by two- | 
+
+headed Janus, 50° | 
+Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time: _ 
+Some that will evermore peep through their eye: 
+And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper, 
+And “other of such vinegar aspect a. 
+That they'll not show their teeth in way of 
+
+smile, 
+Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. 
+
+
+Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo, and GratiANo. 
+
+
+Salan, Here comes Bassanio, your most 
+noble kinsman, 
+ratiano and Lorenzo. Fare ye well: 
+We leave you now w th better company. 
+Salar. 1 would have stay’d till 1 had made 
+you merry, 60 
+£ worthier friends had not prevented me. 
+Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard. 
+I take it, your own business calls on you 
+And you embrace the occasion to depart. 
+Salar. Good morrow, my good lords. 
+_ Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we 
+laugh? say, when? 
+ou grow exceeding strange: must it be so? 
+Salar. We'll make our leisures to attund 
+on yours. [Exeunt Salarino and Salanio. 
+Lor. My Lord Bassanio, since you have 
+found Anton’o, 
+e two will leave you: but at dinner-time, 70 
+pray you, have in mind where we must meet. 
+Bass. | will not fail you. 
+Gra. You look not well, Signior Antonio; 
+You have too much respect upon the world: 
+They lose it that do buy it with much care: 
+Believe me, you are marvellously changed. 
+Ant. I hold the world but as the world, 
+Gratiano; E 
+A stage where every man must play a part, 
+nd mine a sad one. 
+Gra, Let me play the fool: 
+ith mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come, 
+nd let my liver rather heat with wine 8] 
+an my heart cool with mortifying groans. 
+y should a man, whose blood is warm 
+within, 
+like his grandsire cut in alabaster? 
+“Sleep when he wakes and creep into the 
+jaundice 
+By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio— 
+I love thee, and it is my love that speaks— 
+There are a sort of men whose visages 
+lo cream and mantle like a standing pond, 
+do a wilful stillness entertain, 90 
+purpose to be dress’d in an opinion 
+wisdom, gravity, profound conceit, 
+who should say ‘I am Sir Oracle, 
+d when I ope my lips let no dog bark!’ 
+J) my Antonio, I do know of these 
+at therefore only are reputed wise 
+r saying nothing, when, I am very sure, 
+£ they should speak, would almost damn 
+_ those ears 
+Which, hear ng them, would call their broth- 
+ers fools. 
+LM tell thee more of this another time: 
+But fish not, with this melancholy bait, 
+For this focl gudgeon, this opinion. 
+
+
+7 
+
+
+Sieg 
+
+
+100 
+
+
+ZZ) 
+
+
+Come, good Lorenzo. Fare ye well awhile: 
+I'll end my exhortation after dinner. 
+Lor. Well, we will leave you then till 
+dinner-time: 
+I must be one of these same dumb wise men, 
+For Gratiano never lets me speak. 
+Gra. Well, keep me company but two 
+years moe, 
+Thou shalt not know the sound of thine 
+own tongue. 
+_ Ant. Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this 
+
+
+gear. 110 
+Gra. Thanks, i’ faith, for silence is only 
+commendable 
+
+
+In a neat’s tongue dried and a maid not 
+vendible. [Exeunt Cratiano and Lorenzo. 
+
+Ant. Is that any thing now? 
+
+Bass. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of 
+nothing, more than any man in all Venice. His 
+reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two 
+bushels of chaff: you shall<seek all day ere 
+you find them, and when you have them, 
+they are not worth the search. 
+
+Ant. Well, tell me now what lady is the 
+
+same 
+To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage 126 
+That you to-day promised to tell me of? 
+
+Bass. "Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, 
+
+How much I have disabled mine estate, 
+By somethng showing a more swelling port 
+Than my faint means would grant continuance: 
+Nor do I now make moan to be abridged 
+From such a noble rate; but my chief care 
+Is to come fairly off from the great debts 
+Wherein my time something too prodigal 
+Hath left me gaged. To you, Antonio, 
+I owe the most, in money and in love, 
+And from your love I have a warranty 
+To unburden all my plots and purposes 
+How to get clear of all the debts I owe. 
+Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me 
+know it; 
+And if it stand, as you yourself still do, 
+W thin the eye of honour, be assured, 
+My purse. my person, my extremest means, 
+Lie all unlock'd to your occasions. 
+Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost 
+one shaft, 140 
+I shot his fellow of the self-same flight 
+The self-same way with more advised watch, 
+To find the other forth, and by adventuring both 
+I oft found both: I urge this childhood proof, 
+Because what follows is pure innocence. 
+I owe you much, and, like a wilful youth, 
+That which I owe is lost; but if you please 
+To shoot another arrow that self way 
+Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, 
+As I will watch the aim, or to find both 15@ 
+
+
+130 
+
+
+Or bring your latter hazard back agaiv 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+222 
+
+
+And thankfully rest debtor for the first. 
+Ant. You know me well, and _ herein 
+spend but time 
+To wind about my love with circumstance; 
+And out of doubt you do me now more wrong 
+In making question of my uttermost 
+Than if you had made waste of all I have: 
+Then do but say to me what I should do 
+That in your knowledge may by me be done, 
+And I am prest unto it: therefore, speak. 160 
+Bass. In Belmont is a lady r.chly left; 
+And she is fair and, fairer than that word, 
+Of wondrous virtues: sometimes from her eyes 
+I did receive fair speechless messages: 
+Her name is Portia, nothing undervalued 
+To Cato’s daughter, Brutus’ Portia: 
+Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth, 
+For the four winds blow in from every coast 
+Renowned suitors, and her sunny locks 
+Hang on her temples like a golden fleece; 170 
+Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos’ 
+strand, 
+And many Jasons come in guest of her. 
+O my Antonio, had I but the means 
+To hold a rival place with one of them, 
+I have a mind presages me such thrift, 
+That I should questionless be fortunate! 
+Ant. Thou know’st tnat all my fortunes 
+are at sea; 
+Neither have I money nor commodity 
+To raise a present sum: therefore go forth; 
+Try what my credit can in Venice do: 180 
+That shall be rack’d, even to the uttermost, 
+To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. 
+Go, presently inquire, and so wll I, 
+Where money is, and I no question make 
+To have it of my trust or for my sake. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Belmont. A room in Portia's 
+house. 
+Enter Portia and NErIssA. 
+
+Por. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body 
+is aweary of this great world. 
+
+Ner. You would be, sweet madam, if 
+your miseries were in the same abundance as 
+your good fortunes are: and yet, for aught | 
+see, they are as sick that surfeit with too 
+much as they that starve with nothing. It 
+is no mean happiness therefore, to be seated 
+in the mean: superfluity comes sooner by 
+white hairs, but competency lives longer. 10 
+
+Por. Good sentences and well pronounced. 
+
+Ner. They would be better, if well fol- 
+lowed. 
+
+Por. If to do were as easy as to know what 
+were good to do, chapels had been churches 
+and poor men’s cottages princes’ palaces. It 
+is a good divine that follows bis own instruc- 
+
+
+Scene II. 
+
+
+THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
+
+
+[Acrel, Sc? 4 
+
+
+tions: I can easier teach twenty what were | 
+good to be done, than be one of the twenty 
+to follow mine own teach.ng. The brain may — 
+devise laws for the blood, but a hot temper | 
+leaps o’er a cold decree: such a hare is mad- | 
+ness the youth, to skip o’er the meshes of good | 
+counsel the cripple. But this reasoning is not | 
+in the fashion to choose me a husband. O 
+me, the word ‘choose!’ I may neither choose 
+whom I would nor refuse whom I dislike; so | 
+is the will of a living daughter curbed by the | 
+will of a dead father. Is it not hard, Nerissa, — 
+that I cannot choose one nor refuse none? 29 | 
+Ner. Your father was ever Virtuous; and 
+holy men at their death have good inspira- 
+tions: therefore the lottery, that he hath de- 
+vised in these three chests of gold, silver, and 
+lead, whereof who chooses his meaning chooses 
+you, will, no doubt, never be chosen by any 
+rightly but one who shall rightly love. But | 
+what warmth is there in your affection | 
+towards any of these princely suitors that 
+are already come? 
+Por. I pray thee, over-name them; and as | 
+thou namest them, I will describe them; and, | 
+according to my description, level at my | 
+affection. 
+Ner, First, there is the Neapolitan prince. | 
+Por. Ay, that's a colt indeed, for he doth 
+nothing but talk of his horse; and he makes it | 
+a great appropriaton to his own good parts, | 
+that he can shoe him himself. I am much 
+afeard my lady his mother played false with | 
+a smith. 
+Ner. Then there is the County Palatine. 49. 
+Por. He doth nothing but frown, as who. 
+should say ‘If you will not have me, choose:’ 
+he hears merry tales and smiles not: I fear he 
+will prove the weeping philosopher when he 
+grows old, being so full of unmannerly sad- 
+ness in his youth. I had rather be married to 
+a death’s-head with a bone in his mouth than | 
+
+
+to either of these. God defend me from 
+these two! 
+Ner. How say you by the French lord,’ 
+
+
+Monsieur Le Bon? 59 
+Por. God made him, and therefore let him | 
+pass for a man. In truth, I know it is a sin to | 
+be a mocker: but, he! why, he hath a horse | 
+better than the Neapolitan’s, a better bad habit | 
+of frowning than the Count Palatine; he is 
+every man in no man; if a throstle sing, he 
+falls straight a capering: he will fence with his 
+own shadow: if I should marry him, I should | 
+marry twenty husbands. If he would despise — 
+me, I would forgive him, for if he love me to’ 
+madness, I shall never requite him. 70° 
+Ner. What say you, then, to Falconbridge, | 
+the young baron of England? ; 
+
+
+= rte" Se 
+: " ~- \ ~ 
+
+
+PAcr I, Sc. II] 
+
+
+Per. You know I say nothing to him, for 
+he understands not me, nor I him: he hath 
+neither Latin, French, nor Italian, and you 
+will come into the court and swear that | have 
+a poor pennyworth in the English. He is a 
+‘proper man’s picture, but, alas, who can con- 
+verse with a dumb-show? How oddly he is 
+suited! I think he bought his doublet in 
+Italy, his round hose in France, his bonnet in 
+Germany and his behaviour every where. 
+
+Ner. What thnk you of the Scottish lord, 
+his neighbour? 
+
+_ Por. That he hath a neighbourly charity in 
+him, for he borrowed a box of the ear of the 
+
+Englishman and swore he would pay him again 
+when he was able: I think the Frenchman be- 
+came his surety and sealed under for another. 
++ Ner. How like you the young German, the 
+Duke of Saxony’s nephew? 91 
+_ Por. Very vilely in the morning, when he 
+“is sober, and most vilely in the afternoon, 
+' when he is drunk: when he is best, he is a 
+little worse than a man, and when he is 
+worst, he is little better than a beast: an the 
+worst fall that ever fell, I hope I shall make 
+shift to go without him. 
+
+Ner. If he should offer to choose, and 
+choose the right casket, you should refuse to 
+perform your father’s will, if you should re- 
+fuse to accept him. 
+
+Por. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray 
+thee, set a deep glass of rhenish wine on the 
+contrary casket, for if the devil be within and 
+that temptation without, I know he will choose 
+it. I will do any thing, Nerissa, ere I'll be 
+married to a sponge. 
+
+_ Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having 
+any of these lords: they have acquainted me 
+with their determinations; which is, indeed, 
+to return to their home and to trouble you 
+with no more suit, unless you may be won 
+by some other sort than your father’s im- 
+position depending on the caskets. 
+_ Por. If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will 
+* die as chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by 
+the manner of my father’s will. I am glad 
+this parcel of wooers are so reasonable, for 
+‘there is not one among them but I dote on 
+his very absence, and I pray God grant them 
+
+a fair departure. 
+
+Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your 
+father’s time, a Venetian, a scholar and a 
+soldier, that came hither in company of the 
+Marquis of Montferrat? 
+
+Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; 
+think, he was so called. 
+
+Ner. True, madam: he, of all the men 
+that ever my foolish eyes looked upon, was 
+
+
+the best deserving a fair lady. 131 
+
+
+as I 
+
+
+THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
+
+
+ee 7 
+
+
+223 
+
+
+Por. 1 remember him well, and I re- 
+member him worthy of thy praise. 
+
+
+Enter a Serving-man, 
+
+
+How now! what news? 
+
+Serv. The four strangers seek for you, 
+madam, to take their leave: and there is a 
+forerunner come from a fifth, the Prince of 
+Morocco, who brings word the prince his mas- 
+ter will be here to-night. 139 
+
+Por. If I could bid the fifth welcome with 
+so good a heart as I can bid the other four 
+farewell, I should be glad of his approach: 
+if he have the condition of a saint and 
+the complexion of a devil, I had rather he 
+should shrive me than wive me. 
+
+Come, Nerissa. Sirrah, go before. 
+Whiles we shut the gates upon one wooer, an- 
+other knocks at the door. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene Ill. Venice. A public place. 
+Enter BassANio and SHYLOCK, 
+
+
+Shy. Three thousand ducats; well. 
+
+Bass. Ay, sir, for three months. 
+
+Shy. For three months; well. 
+
+Bass. For the which, as I told you, An 
+tonio shall be bound. 
+
+Shy. Antonio shall become bound; well. 
+
+Bass. May you stead me? will you pleas- 
+ure me? shall I know your answer > 
+
+Shy. Three thousand ducats for 
+months and Antonio bound. 
+
+Bass. Your answer to that. 
+
+Shy. Antonio is a good man 
+
+Bass. Have you heard any imputation to 
+the contrary? 
+
+Shy. Oh, no, no, no, no: my meaning in 
+saying he is a good man is to have you un- 
+derstand me that he is sufficient. Yet his 
+means are in supposition: he hath an argosy 
+bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies; I 
+understand, moreover, upon the R alto, he 
+hath a thrd at Mexico, a fourth for England, 
+and other ventures he hath, squandered abroad. 
+But ships are but boards, sailors but men: 
+there be land-rats and water-rats, water- 
+thieves and land-thieves, | mean pirates, and 
+then there is the peril of waters, winds and 
+rocks. The man is, notwithstanding, sufficient. 
+Three thousand ducats; I think I may take 
+his bond. 
+
+Bass. Be assured you may. 29 
+
+Shy. I will be assured I may; and, that I 
+may be assured, I will bethink me. May I 
+speak w:th Antonio? 
+
+Bass. If it please you to dine with us. 
+
+Shy. Yes, to smell pork; to eat of the 
+habitation which your prophet the Nazarite 
+conjured the devil into. I will buy with you, 
+
+
+three 
+10 
+
+
+& an BD So ia FES Phe ag CoA ye See 
+i ; ' % 
+
+
+224 
+
+
+THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
+
+
+sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, 
+and so following, but I will not eat with you, 
+drink with you, nor pray w.th you. What 
+news on the Rialto? Who is he comes here? 40 
+
+
+Enter ANTONIO. 
+
+
+Bass. This is Signior Antonio. 
+Shy. [Aside] How like a fawning pub- 
+lican he looks! 
+I hate him for he is a Christ’an, 
+But more for that in low simplicity 
+He lends out money gratis and brings down 
+The rate of usance here with us in Venice. 
+If I can catch him once upon the hip, 
+I will feed Fat the ancient grudge I bear him. 
+He hates our sacred nation, and he rails, 
+Even there where merchants most do congre- 
+gate, 
+On me, my bargains and my well-won thr ft, 
+Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe, 
+If I forgive him! 
+Bass. Shylock, do you hear? 
+Shy. I am debating of my present store, 
+And, by the near guess of my memory, 
+I cannot instantly raise up the gross 
+Of full three thousand ducats. What of that 
+Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe, 
+Will furnish me. But soft! how many months 
+Do you desire? [To Ant.] Rest you fair, 
+good signior; 60 
+Your worship was the last man in our mouths. 
+Ant. Shylock, although I] neither lend nor 
+borrow 
+By taking nor by g'ving of excess, 
+Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend, 
+I'll break a custom. Is he yet possess’d 
+How much ye would? 
+
+
+Shy. Ay, ay, three thousand ducats, 
+Ant. And for three months. 
+Shy. I had forgot; three months; you told 
+me so. 
+Well then, your bond; and let me see; but 
+hear you; 
+Methought you said you neither lend nor 
+borrow 
+Upon advantage. 
+Ant. I do never use it. 71 
+
+
+Shy. When Jacob grazed his uncle Laban’s 
+sheep— 
+This Jacob from our holy Abram was, 
+As his wise mother wrought in his behalf, 
+The third possessor; ay, he was the third— 
+
+
+Ant. And what of him? did he take in- 
+terest? 
+
+Shy. No, not take interest, not, as you 
+would say, 
+
+
+‘Directly interest: mark what Jacob did. 
+When Laban and himself were compromised 
+
+
+0} But sway'd and fashion’d by the hand of 
+
+
+That all = eanlings which were streak’d 
+
+
+and p 80 
+Skould fall as Jacob's hire, the ewes, being 
+rank, 
+
+
+In the end of autumn turned to the rams, 
+And, when the work of generation was 
+Between these woolly breeders in the act, 
+The skilful shepherd peel’d me certain wands q 
+And, in the doing of the deed of kind, 
+He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes, _ 
+Who then conceiving did in eaning time 
+Fall parti-colour’'d lambs, and those were | 
+Jacob's. ad 
+This was a way to thrive, and he was blest: _ 90 
+And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not. 
+Ant. This was a venture, sir, that Jacob 
+served for; " 
+A thing not in his power to bring to pass, — 
+
+
+heaven. ; 
+Was this inserted to make interest good? % 
+Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams> 
+Shy. I cannot tell; I make it breed as fast: 
+But note me, sighioy. 7 
+Ant. Mark you this, Bassento, 
+The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. — 
+An evil soul producing holy witness 100 | 
+Is like a villain with a smiling cheek, “yy 
+A goodly apple rotten at the heart: Ei 
+O what a goodly outside falsehood hath! | 
+Shy. Three thousand ducats; ‘tis a good 
+round sum. ‘ 
+Three months from twelve; 
+the rate— 
+Ant. Well, Shylock, shall we be behold 
+ing to you? ' 
+Shy. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft 
+In the Rialto you have rated me : 
+About my moneys and my usances: : 
+Still have I borne it with a patient shrug, 110 
+For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. 
+You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog, 
+And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, 
+And all for use of that which is mine own. 
+Well then, it now appears you need my hel Ny 
+Go to, then; you come to me, and you say — 
+“Shylock, we would have moneys:” you say so; 
+You, that did void your rheum upon my bear 
+And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur — 
+Over your threshold: moneys ts your suit. 120 
+What should I say to you? Should I not say 
+‘Hath a dog money? is it possible , 
+A cur can lend three thousand ducats>’ Or. 
+Shall I bend low and in a bondman’s key, — 
+With bated breath and whispering humbleness, 
+Say this; " 
+‘Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last; 
+You spurn’d me such a day; another time — 
+You call’d me dog; and tor these courtesies 
+
+
+then, let me see; 
+
+
+Il lend you thus much moneys’ > 
+_ Ant. I am as like to call thee so again, 
+To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too. 
+If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not 
+_ Ass to thy friends; for when did friendship take 
+breed for barren metal of his friend? 
+
+ut lend it rather to thne enemy, 
+_ Who, if he break, thou mayst with better face 
+Exact the penalty. 
+
+_ Shy. Why, look you, how you storm! 
+I would be friends with you and have your 
+» love, 
+
+_ Forget the shames that you have stain'd me 
+with 140 
+
+
+Of usance for my moneys, and you'll not 
+hear me: 
+
+‘This is kind I offer. , 
+
+_ Bass. This were kindness. 
+
+Shy. This kindness will I show. 
+
+se with me to a notary, seal me there 
+
+Your single bond; and, in a merry sport, 
+
+If you repay me not on such a day, 
+
+In such a place, such sum or sums as are 
+
+Express'd in the condition, let the forfeit 
+
+Be nominated for an equal pound 
+
+Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken 
+
+n what part of your body pleaseth me. 
+Ant. Content, i’ faith; I'll seal to such a 
+
+bond 
+
+ind say there is much kindness in the Jew. 
+
+_ Bass. You shall not seal to such a bond 
+
+for me: 
+
+rather dwell in my necessity. 
+
+Ant. Why, fear not, man; I will not for- 
+
+Se feit.it: 
+
+ithin these two months, that’s a month before 
+
+is bond expires, I do expect return 
+
+thrice three times the value of this bond. 160 
+
+Shy. O father Abram, what these Chris- 
+
+
+150 
+
+
+Mt 
+
+
+ose own hard dealings teaches them suspect 
+e thoughts of others!. Pray you, tell me th's; 
+e should break his day, what should I gain 
+the exaction of the forfeiture? 
+
+
+$ not so estimable, profitable neither, 
+
+flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say, 
+buy his favour, I extend this friendship: 
+
+he will take it, so; if not, adieu; 170 
+And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not, 
+
+
+Then meet me forthwith at the no- 
+tary’s; 
+
+ve him direction for this merry bond, 
+
+d I will go and purse the ducats straight, 
+to my house, left in the fearful guard 
+an unthrifty knaye, and presently 
+
+
+will be with you, 
+
+
+~_ Le il oS 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+225 
+
+
+Ant. Hie thee, gentle Jew. [Exil Shylock. 
+The Hebrew will turn Christian: he grows 
+
+
+kind. 
+
+Bass. | like not fair terms and a villain’s 
+mind. 181 
+Ant. Come on: in this there can be no 
+
+dismay ; 
+My ships come home a month before the day. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+ACT II. 
+
+Scene I. Belmont. A room in Portia’s 
+
+
+house. 
+
+
+Flourish of cornets. Enter the PRINCE oF 
+Morocco and his train; Portia, NeRissa, 
+and others attending. 
+
+
+Mor. Mislike me not for my complexion, 
+The shadow'd livery of the burnish’d sun, 
+To whom I am a neighbour and near bred. 
+Bring me the fairest creature northward born, 
+Where Pheebus’ fire scarce thaws the ic:cles, 
+And let us make incision for your love, 
+To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine. 
+I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine 
+Hath fear'd the valiant: by my love, I swear 
+The best-regarded virgins of our clime 10 
+Have loved it too: I would not change this hue, 
+Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen. 
+
+Por. In terms of choice I am not solely led 
+By nice direction of a maiden’s eyes; 
+Besides, the lottery of my destiny 
+Bars me the right of voluntary choosing: 
+
+But if my father had not scanted me 
+
+And hedged me by his wit, to yield myself 
+His wife who wins me by that means I told you 
+Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair 
+As any comer I have look’d on yet 
+
+For my affection. 
+
+Mor. Even for that I thank you; 
+Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets 
+To try my fortune. By this scimitar 
+That slew the Sophy and a Persian prince 
+That won three fields of Sultan Solyman, 
+1 would outstare the sternest eyes that look, 
+Outbrave the heart most daring on the earth, 
+Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear. 
+Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey, 30 
+To win thee, lady. But, alas the while! 
+
+If Hercules and Lichas play at dice 
+Which is the better man, the greater throw 
+May turn by fortune from the weaker hand: 
+
+
+.|So is Alcides beaten by his page; 
+
+
+And so may I, blind fortune leading me, 
+Miss that which one unworthier may attain, 
+And die with grieving. 
+Por. You must take your chance, 
+And either not attempt to choose at all 
+Or swear before you choose; if you choose 
+wrong 
+
+
+226 
+
+
+Never to speak to lady afterward 4] 
+In way of marriage: therefore be advised. 
+
+
+Mor. Nor will not. Come, bring me unto 
+my chance. 
+Por. First, forward to the temple: after 
+dinner 
+Your hazard shall be made. 
+Mor. Good fortune then! 
+
+
+To make me blest or cursed’st among men. 
+[Cornets, and exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene Il. Venice. A street. 
+Enter LAUNCELOT. 
+
+
+Laun. Certa‘nly my conscience will serve 
+me to run from this Jew my master. The fiend 
+is at mine elbow and tempts me saying to me 
+“Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot,’ or 
+*good Gobbo,’ or ‘good Launcelot Gobbo, use 
+your legs, take the start, run away.’ My con- 
+science says ‘No; take heed, honest Launcelot; 
+take heed, honest Gobbo, or, as aforesaid, 
+‘honest Launcelot Gobbo; do not run; scorn 
+running with thy heels.’ Well, the most cour- 
+ageous fiend bids me pack: ‘Via!’ says the 
+fiend; ‘away!" says the fiend; ‘for the heavens, 
+rouse up a brave mind,’ says the fiend, ‘and 
+run.’ Well, my conscience, hanging about the 
+neck of my heart, says very wisely to me ‘My 
+honest friend Launcelot, being an honest man’s 
+son,’ or rather an honest woman's son; for, in- 
+deed, my father did something smack, some- 
+thing grow to, he had a kind of taste; well, 
+my conscience says “Launcelot, budge not.’ 
+“Budge,” says the fiend. ‘Budge not,’ says my 
+consc ence. ‘Conscience,’ say I, ‘you counsel 
+well;’ ‘Fiend,’ say I, ‘you counsel well:’ to 
+be ruled by my conscience, I should stay with 
+the Jew my master, who, God bless the mark, 
+is a kind of devil; and, to run away from the 
+Jew, I should be ruled by the fiend, who, 
+saving your reverence, is the devil himself. 
+Certainly the Jew is the very devil incarnate; 
+and, in my conscience, my conscience is but 
+a kind of hard conscience, to offer to counsel 
+me to stay with the Jew. The fiend gives 
+the more friendly counsel: I will run, fiend; 
+my heels are at your command; I will run. 
+
+
+Enter Old Gosso, with a basket. 
+
+
+Cob. Master young man, you, I pray you, 
+which is the way to master Jew’s> 
+
+Laun. [Aside] O heavens, this is my 
+true-begotten father! who, being more than 
+sand-blind, high-gravel blind, knows me not: 
+I will try confusions with him. 
+
+Gob. Master young gentleman, I pray you, 
+which is the way to master Jew’s? 4| 
+
+Laun, Turn up on your right hand at the 
+Next turning, but. at the next turning of all, 
+
+
+THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
+
+
+[Act Il, Se. II | 
+
+
+on your left; marry, at the very next turn- — 
+ing, turn of no hand, but turn down indi- — 
+rectly to the Jew’s house. “| 
+
+Gob. By God's sonties, ‘twill be a hard way — 
+to hit. Can you tell me whether one Launcelot, — 
+that dwells with him, dwell with him orno? 49 — 
+
+Laun. Talk you of young Master Launcelot? 
+[Aside] Mark me now; now will I raise the | 
+waters. Talk you of young Master Launcelot? © | 
+
+Gob. No master, sir, but a poor man’s son: _ 
+his father, though I say it, is an honest ex- | 
+ceeding poor man, and, God be thanked, well | 
+to live. nl 
+
+Laun, Well, let his father be what a’ will, 
+we talk of young Master Launcelot. ry 
+
+Gob. Your worship’s friend and Launcelot, | 
+sir. 
+Laun. But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo; 
+I beseech you, talk you of young Master 
+Launcelot? 60 | 
+
+Gob. Of Launcelot, an’t please your — 
+mastership. q 
+
+Laun. Ergo, Master Launcelot. Talk not of 
+Master Launcelot, father; for the young gen- 
+tleman, according to Fates and Destinies and 
+such odd sayings, the Sisters Three and such — 
+branches of learn‘ng, is indeed deceased, or, as _ 
+you would say in plain terms, gone to heaven. | 
+
+Gob. Marry, God forbid! the boy was thal 
+very staff of my age, my very prop. 70 
+
+Laun. Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel- | 
+post, a staff or a prop? Do you know me, — 
+father? : 
+
+Gob. Alack the day, I know you not, 
+young gentleman; but, I pray you, tell me, 
+is my boy, God rest his soul, alive or dead? 
+
+Laun, Do you not know me, father? 
+
+Gob. Alack, sir, I am sand-blind; I know 
+you not. ; 
+
+Laun. Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, 
+you might fail of the knowing me: it isa wise || 
+father that knows his own child. Well, old 
+man, I will tell you news of your son: give me 
+your blessing: truth will come to light; murder 
+cannot be hid long; a man’s son may, but at 
+the length truth will out. ‘ 
+
+Gob. Pray you, sir, stand up: I am sur 
+you are not Launcelot, my boy. 
+
+Laun. Pray you, let's have no more fooling 
+about it, but give me your blessing: I am | 
+Launcelot, your boy that was, your son that | 
+is, your child that shall be. ols 
+
+Gob. I cannot think you are my son. 
+
+Laun. I know not what I shall think of — 
+that: but I am Launcelot, the Jew’s man, and 
+I am sure Margery your wife is my mother. 
+
+
+Gob. Her name is Margery, indeed: I ‘Il be 
+
+
+Act Il, Sc. II] 
+
+
+THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
+
+
+se 
+
+
+_he be! what a beard hast thou got! thou hast 
+
+
+-fill-horse has on his tail. 
+
+
+dost thou and thy master agree? 
+_ brought him a present. 
+
+
+‘ ground. 
+
+
+got more hair on thy chin than Dobbin 
+
+Laun. It should seem, then, that Dobbin’s 
+tail grows backward: I am sure he had more 
+hair of his tail than I have of my face when 
+[ last saw him. 
+
+Gob. Lord, how art thou-changed! How 
+I have 
+How ‘gree you now? 
+
+Laun. Well, well: but, for mine own part, 
+as I have set up my rest to run away, so | 
+will not rest till I have run some ground. My 
+
+
+master’s a very Jew: give him a present! give 
+
+
+him a halter: I am famished in his service; 
+you may tell every finger I have with my ribs. 
+Father, I am glad you are come: give me 
+your present to one Master Bassanio, who, in- 
+deed, gives rare new liveries: if I serve not 
+him, I will run as far as God has any 
+O rare fortune! here comes the 
+man: to him, father; for I am a Jew, if 
+I serve the Jew any longer. 
+
+
+Enter Bassanio, with LEONARDO and other 
+followers. 
+
+
+Bass. You may do so; but let it be so 
+_hasted that supper be ready at the farthest by 
+_ five of the clock. See these letters delivered; 
+put the liveries to making, and desire Gratiano 
+to come anon to my lodging. [Exit a Servant. 
+
+Laun. To him, father. 
+
+Gob. God bless your worship! 
+
+Bass. Gramercy! wouldst thou aught with 
+me? 
+
+Gob. Here’s my son, sir, a poor boy,— 129 
+
+Laun. Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich 
+
+
+_ Jew’s man; that would, sir, as my father shall 
+_ specify— 
+
+
+« 
+
+
+Gob. He hath a great infect‘on, sir, as one 
+
+
+would say, to serve— 
+
+
+Laun. Indeed, the short and the long is, I 
+
+
+serve the Jew, and have a desire, as my fa- 
+
+
+. 
+
+
+% 
+
+
+ther shall specify— 
+Cob. His master and he, saving your wor- 
+
+
+_ ship's reverence, are scarce cater-cousins— 139 
+
+
+Laun. To be brief, the very truth is that 
+the Jew, having done me wrong, doth cause 
+
+
+me, as my father, being, I hope, an old man, 
+shall frutify unto you— 
+
+
+Y 
+
+
+Gob. Ihave here a dish of doves that I would 
+bestow upon your worship, and my suit is— 
+
+Laun."‘In very brief, the suit is impertinent 
+to myself, as your worship shall know by this 
+honest old man; and, though J say it, though 
+old man, yet poor man, my father. 
+
+_ Bass. One speak for both. What would you? 
+
+
+Laun. Serve vou. sir. \4l 
+
+
+Gob. That is the very defect of the mat- 
+ter, sir. 
+Bass. 1 know thee well; 
+tain’d thy suit: 
+Shylock thy master spoke with me this day, 
+And hath preferr'd thee, if it be preferment 
+To leave a rich Jew’s service, to become 
+The follower of so poor a gentleman. 
+Laun. The old proverb is very well parted 
+between my master Shylock and you, sir: you 
+
+
+thou hast ob- 
+
+
+have the grace of God, sir, and he hath 
+enough. 
+
+Bass. Thou speak’st it well. Go, father, 
+
+with thy son. 161 
+
+
+Take leave of thy old master and inquire 
+My lodging out. Give him a livery 
+More guarded than his fellows’: see it done. 
+
+Laun, Father, in. I cannot get a service, 
+no; I have ne'er a tongue in my head. Well, 
+if any man in Italy have a fairer table which 
+doth offer to swear upon a book, I shall have 
+good fortune. Go to, here’s a simple line of 
+life: here’s a small trifle of wives: alas, fifteen 
+wives is nothing; eleven widows and nine 
+maids is a simple coming-in for one man: and 
+then to ‘scape drowning thrice, and to be m 
+peril of my life with the edge of a feather- 
+bed; here are simple scapes. Well, if Fortune 
+be a woman, she’s a good wench for this gear. 
+Father, come; I'll take my leave of the Jew 
+in the twinkling of an eye. 
+
+[Exeunt Launcelot and Old Gobbe: 
+
+
+Bass. 1 pray thee, good Leonardo, think 
+on this: 
+These things being bought and orderly be 
+stow’'d, 
+Return in haste, for I do feast to-night 18€ 
+My best-esteem'’d acquaintance: hie thee, ge. 
+Leon. My best endeavours shall be done 
+herein. 
+Enter GRATIANO. 
+Gra. Where is your master? 
+Leon. Yonder, sir, he walks. [Bxzi, 
+Gra. Signior Bassanio! 
+
+
+Bass, Gratiano! 
+Gra. I have a suit to you. 
+Bass. You have obtain'd it 
+Cra. You must not deny me: I must ge 
+with you to Belmont. 
+Bass. Why, then you must. 
+Gratiano; 
+Thou art too wild, too rude and bold of voice; 
+Parts that become thee happily enough 19! 
+And in such eyes as ours appear not faults; 
+But where thou art not known, why, there 
+they show 
+Something too liberal. Pray thee, take pain 
+To allay with some cold drops of modesty 
+
+
+But hear thee 
+
+
+228 
+
+
+THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
+
+
+ah Gis ape ah 
+[Act 
+
+
+Thy skipping spirit, lest through thy wild 
+behaviour 
+
+{ be misconstrued in the place I go to 
+
+And lose my hopes. 
+
+Gras Signior Bassanio, hear me: 
+If I do not put on a sober habit, 199 
+Talk with respect and swear but now and then, 
+Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look de- 
+
+murely, 
+Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine 
+
+. eyes 
+Thus with my hat, and sigh and say ‘amen,’ 
+Use all the observance of civility, 
+
+Like one well studied in a sad ostent 
+To please his grandam, never trust me more. 
+Bass. Well, we shall see your bearing. 
+Gra, Nay, but I bar to-night: you shall 
+not gauge me 
+By what we do to-night. 
+
+Bass, No, that were pity: 
+
+I would entreat you rather to put on 210 
+Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends 
+That purpose merriment. But fare you well: 
+I have some business. 
+
+_ Gra, And I must to Lorenzo and the rest: 
+But we will visit you at supper-time. [Excunt, 
+
+
+Scene II]. The same. A room in Suy- 
+
+
+LOCK’s house, 
+Enter Jessica and LAUNCELOT, 
+
+
+Jes. lam sorry thou wilt leave my father so: 
+Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil, 
+Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness. 
+
+But fare thee well, there is a ducat for thee: 
+And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see 
+Lorenzo, who is thy new master’s guest: 
+
+Give him this letter; do it secretly; 
+
+Aad so farewell: I would not have my father 
+See me in talk with thee. 
+
+Laun. Adieu! tears exhibit my tongue. 
+Most beautiful pagan, most sweet Jew! if a 
+Christian did not play the knave and get thee, 
+I am much deceived. But, adieu: these foolish 
+drops do something drown my manly spirit: 
+adieu. 
+
+Jes. Farewell, good Launcelot. 
+
+[Exit Launcelot, 
+Alack, what heinous sin is it in me 
+To be ashamed to be my father’s child! 
+But though I am a daughter to his blood, 
+[ am not to his manners. O Lorenzo, 
+If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife, 20 
+Become a Christian and thy loving wife. [Exit. 
+
+
+Scene IV. The same. A street. 
+
+
+Enter GratiaAno, Lorenzo, SaLarino, and 
+SALANIO. 
+, Lor, Nay, we will slink away in supper- 
+time, 
+
+
+Disguise us at my lodging and return, 
+All in an hour. 
+Cra. We have not made good preparation. 
+Salar. We have not spoke us yet of torch- 
+bearers. a 
+Salan. "Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly — 
+order'd, : 
+And better in my mind not undertook. 
+Lor. "Tis now but four o'clock: we have 
+two hours 
+To furnish us. 
+
+
+Enter LAuncELot, with a letter. 
+
+
+Friend Launcelot, what's the news? — 
+Laun. An it shall please you to break up 
+
+
+this, it shall seem to signify. if 
+Lor. I know the hand: in faith, ’tis a fair — 
+
+
+hand; er. 
+And whiter than the paper it writ on q 
+Is the fair hand that writ. 
+
+Gra. Love-news, in faith, 
+
+Laun. By your leave, sir. 
+
+Lor. Whither goest thou? 
+
+Laun, Marry, sir, to bid my old masier the — 
+Jew to sup to-night with my new master the — 
+Christian. 7 
+
+Lor. Hold here, take this: tell gentle Jessica 
+I will not fail her; speak it privately. 21.4 
+Go, gentlemen, [Exit Launcelot. — 
+Will you prepare you for this masque to-night? _ 
+I am provided of a torch-bearer. 4 
+
+Salar. Ay, marry, I'll be gone about it~ 
+
+
+straight. 
+Salan. And so will I. ‘ 
+Lor. Meet me and Gratiano _ 
+
+
+At Gratiano’s lodging some hour hence, 
+Salar. "Tis good we do so, if 
+[Exeunt Salar. and Salan. — 
+Gra. Was not that letter from fair Jessica? @ 
+Lor. I must needs tell thee all. She hath 
+directed 30 
+How I shall take her from her father’s house, — 
+What gold and jewels she is furnish’d with, 
+What page’s suit she hath in readiness. 
+If e’er the Jew her father come to heaven, — 
+It will be for his gentle daughter's sake: ; 
+And never dare misfortune cross her foot, 
+Unless she do it under this excuse, 
+That she is issue to a faithless Jew. 
+Come, go with me; peruse this as thou goest: — 
+Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene V. The same. 
+house. 
+Enter Suytock and LauNceLot. : 
+Shy. Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall — 
+be thy judge, a 
+The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio:— _| 
+What, Jessical—thou shalt not gormandise, 
+
+
+Before Suytock'’s 
+
+
+‘THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
+
+
+229 
+
+
+As thou hast done with me:—What, Jessica! — 
+And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out; — 
+Why, Jessica, I say! 
+- Laun. Why, Jessica! 
+Shy. Who bids thee call? I do not bid 
+thee call. 
+Laun, Your worship was wont to tell me 
+
+
+that I could do nothing without bidding. 
+
+
+Enter Jessica. 
+
+
+Jes. Call you? what is your will? 10 
+_ Shy. I am bid forth to supper, Jessica: 
+There are my keys. But wherefore should I go? 
+I am not bid for love; they flatter me: 
+But yet I'll go in hate, to feed upon 
+The prodigal Christian. Jessica, my girl, 
+Look to my house. I am right loath to go: 
+‘There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest, 
+For I did dream of money-bags to-night. 
+_ Laun. I beseech you, sir, go: my young 
+“master doth expect your reproach. 
+«\ “Shy. So do I his. 
+_ Laun. And they bate conspired together, I 
+yall not say you shall see a masque; but if 
+you do, then it was not for nothing that my 
+nose fell a- -bleeding on Black-Monday last at 
+six 0 "clock 1’ the morning, falling out that year 
+‘on Ash-Wednesday was four year, in the 
+afternoon. 
+# Shy. What, are there masques? Hear you 
+e me, Jessica: 
+Lock up my doors; and when you hear the 
+drum 
+And the vile squealing of the wry-neck’d fife, 
+-Clamber not you up to the casements then, 
+‘Nor thrust your head into the public street 
+To gaze on Christian fools with varnish’d faces, 
+
+
+G stop my house’s ears, | mean my casements: 
+
+
+t not the sound of shallow foppery enter 
+_ My sober house. By Jacob’s staff, I swear, 
+I have no mind of feasting forth to-night: 
+Go you before me, sirrah; 
+
+
+_Laun. 1 will go before, sir. Mistress, look 
+
+
+out at window, for all this; 41 
+i. There will come a Christian by, 
+Will be worth a Jewess’ eye. [Exit. 
+
+
+_ Shy. What says that fool of Hagar’s off- 
+spring, ha? 
+
+_ Jes, His words were ‘Farewell, mistress ;" 
+nothing else. 
+
+_ Shy. The patch is kind enough, but a huge 
+
+feeder; 
+
+“Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day 
+
+More than the wild-cat; drones hive not with 
+
+me; 
+
+ieccfore I part with him, and part with him 
+
+To one that I would have him help to waste 50 
+
+| His borrow'd purse. Well, Jessica, go in: 
+
+
+Perhaps I will return immediately: 
+Do as I bid you; shut doors after you: 
+Fast bind, fast find; 
+A proverb never stale in thrifty mind. [Exii, 
+Jes. Farewell; and if my fortune be mot 
+crost, 
+I have a father, you a daughter, lost. 
+
+
+Scene VI. The same. 
+Enter. GRATIANO and SALARINO, masqued. 
+
+
+Gra, This is the pent-house under which 
+‘Lorenzo 
+Desired us to make stand. 
+Salar. His hour is almost past. 
+Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his 
+hour, 
+For lovers ever run before the clock. 
+Salar. O, ten times faster Venus’ pigeons fly 
+To seal love’s bonds new-made, than they 
+are wont 
+
+
+[ Exii. 
+
+
+0| To keep obliged faith unforfeited! 
+
+
+Gra. That ever holds: 
+feast 
+With that keen appetite that he sits down? 
+Where is the horse that doth untread again 16 
+His tedious measures with the unbated fire 
+That he did pace them first? All things that are, 
+Are with more spirit chased then enjoy'd. 
+How like a younker or a prodigal 
+The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, 
+Hugg’d and embraced by the strumpet wind! 
+How like the prodigal doth she return, 
+With over-weather'd ribs and ragged sails, 
+Lean, rent and beggar’d by the strumpet wmd! 
+Salar. Here comes Lorenzo: more of this 
+hereafter. 29 
+Enter Lorenzo. 
+Lor. Sweet friends, your patience for my 
+long abode; 
+Not I, but my affairs, have made you wait: 
+When you shall please to play the thieves for 
+wives, 
+I'll watch as long for you then. 
+Here dwells my father Jew. 
+within > 
+Enter Jessica, above, in boy's clothes. 
+Jes. Who are you? 
+certainty, 
+Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue. 
+
+Lor. Lorenzo and thy love. 
+
+Jes. Lorenzo, certain, and my love mdeed, 
+For who love so much? And now who knows 
+But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours? 34 
+
+Lor. Heaven and thy thoughts are witness 
+
+that thou art. 
+
+Jes. Here, catch this casket; it is worth 
+
+the pains. 
+I am glad ‘tis night, you do not look on me, 
+
+
+who riseth from a 
+
+
+Approach ; 
+Ho! who's 
+
+
+Tell me, for more 
+
+
+230 
+
+
+For I am much ashamed of my exchange: 
+But love is blind and lovers cannot see 
+
+The pretty follies that themselves commit; 
+For if they could, Cupid himself would blush 
+
+
+To see me thus transformed tu a boy. 
+
+
+Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch- | This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt, | 
+“Who chooseth me must give and hazard all — 
+
+
+10 | 
+
+
+bearer. 40 
+Jes. What, must I hold a candle to my 
+shames ? 
+
+
+They in themselves, good sooth, are too too 
+I'ght. 
+Why, ‘tis an office of discovery, love; 
+And I should be obscured. 
+Lor. So are you, sweet, 
+Even in the lovely garnish of a boy. 
+But come at once; 
+For the close night doth play the runaway, 
+And we are stay'd for at Bassanio’s feast. 
+Jes. 1 will make fast the doors, and gild 
+myself 
+With some more ducats, and be with you 
+straight. [Exit above. 59 
+Gra. Now, by my hood, a Gentile and no 
+Jew. 
+Lor. Beshrew me but I love her heartily; 
+For she is wise, if I can judge of her, 
+And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true, 
+And true she is as she hath proved herself, 
+And therefore, like herself, wise, fair and true, 
+Shall she be placed in my constant soul. 
+
+
+Enter, Jessica, below. 
+
+
+What, art thou come? On, gentlemen; away! 
+Our masquing mates by this time for us stay. 
+[Exit with Jessica and Salarino. 
+
+
+Enter ANTONIO. 
+
+
+Ant. Who's there? 
+Gra. Signior Antonio! 
+Ant, Fie, fie, Gratiano! where are all the 
+rest? 
+"Tis nine o'clock: our friends all stay for you. 
+No masque to-night: the wind is come about; 
+Bassanio presently will go aboard: 
+T have sent twenty out to seek for you. 
+Gra. I am glad on’t: I desire no more 
+delight 
+Than to be under sail and gone to-night. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+/ 
+
+
+Scene VII. Belmont. A room in 
+Portia’s house. 
+
+
+Flourish of cornets. Enter Portia. with the 
+Prince oF Morocco, and their trains. 
+
+
+Por. Go draw aside the curtains and discover 
+The several caskets to this noble prince. 
+Now make your choice. . 
+
+
+Mor. The first, of gold, who this inscrip- 
+tion bears, 
+
+
+THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
+
+
+“Who chooseth me shall 
+
+
+gain what many men 
+des:re;’ : 
+
+
+The second, silver, which this promise carries, | 
+“Who chooseth me shall get as much as he | 
+
+
+deserves ;” 
+
+
+he hath.’ 
+How shall I know if I do choose the right? 
+Por. The one of them contains my picture, 
+prince: 
+If you choose that, then I am yours withal. 
+Mor. Some god d.rect my judgement! Let 
+me see; 
+I will survey the inscriptions back again, 
+What says this leaden casket? 
+
+
+‘Who chooseth me must give and hazard alf 
+he hath.’ 4 
+
+
+Must give: for what? for lead? hazard for 
+
+
+lead? 
+This casket threatens. Men that hazard all 
+
+
+Do it in hope of fair advantages: 
+
+
+A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross; 20 
+
+
+I'll then nor give nor hazard aught for lead. 
+
+What says the silver with her virgin hue? 
+
+* Who chooseth me shall get as much as he 
+deserves.” 
+
+
+As much as | deserve! Pause there, Morocco, 
+
+
+And weigh thy value with an even hand 
+If thou be’st rated by thy estimat’on, 
+
+Thou dost deserve enough; and yet enough 
+May not extend so far as to the lady 
+And yet to be afeard of my deserving 
+Were but a weak disabling of myself. 
+
+
+I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes, 
+In graces and in qualities of breeding; 
+But more than these, in love I do deserve. 
+
+
+What if I stray’d no further, but chose here? 
+
+
+Let's see once more this saying graved in gold; _ 
+
+
+* Who chooseth me shall gain what many men 
+desire.” ; 
+Why, that’s the lady; all the world desires 
+
+
+her; 
+
+
+From the four corners of the earth they come, 
+
+
+To kiss this shrine, this mortal-breathing saint; 
+
+
+The Hyrcanian deserts and the vasty wilds 41 
+
+
+Of wide Arabia are as throughfares now 
+For princes to come view fair Portia: 
+
+The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head 
+Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar 
+
+To stop the foreign spirits, but they come, 
+As o’er a brook, to see fair Portia. 
+
+
+One of these three contains her heavenly 
+
+
+icture. 
+
+
+P 
+Is’t lke that lead contains her? 
+
+
+[Act I, Sc. VIL 
+
+
+30 
+As much as k deserve! Why, that’s the lady: g 
+
+
+"Twere | 
+
+damnation i. 
+To think so base a thought: it were too gross 
+To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave. 5] % 
+
+
+ro" 
+
+
+aa ce we 
+: x 
+
+
+Act II, Sc. IX] 
+
+
+Or shall I think in silver she’s immured, 
+
+Being ten times undervalued to tried gold? 
+
+O sinful thought! Never so rich a gem 
+
+Was set in worse than gold. They have in 
+England 
+
+A coin that bears the figure of an angel 
+
+Stamped in gold, but that's insculp'd upon; 
+
+But here an angel in a golden bed 
+
+Lies all within. Deliver me the key: 
+
+Here do I choose, and thrive | as | may! 60 
+
+
+Por. There, take it, prince; and if my form. 
+
+
+lie there, 
+Then I am yours. 
+[He unlocks the golden casket. 
+Mor. O hell! what have we here? 
+A carrion Death, within whose empty eye 
+ere is a written scroll! _ I'll read the writing. 
+
+
+' [Reads] All that glisters is not gold; 
+
+
+Often have you heard that told: 
+Many a man his life hath sold 
+
+But my outside to behold: 
+
+Gilded tombs do worms infold, 
+Had you been as wise as bold, 70 
+Young in limbs, in judgement old, 
+Your answer had not been inscroll'd: 
+Fare you well; your suit is cold. 
+
+Cold, indeed; and labour lost: 
+
+Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost! 
+Portia, adieu. I have too grieved a heart 
+To take a tedious leave: thus losers part. 
+
+[Exit with his train. Flourish of cornets. 
+
+Por. A gentle riddance. Draw the cur- 
+
+tains, go. 
+Let all of his complexion choose me so. 
+: [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene VIII. Venice. A street. 
+Enter SALARINO and SALANIO. 
+
+
+Salar. Why, man, I saw Bassanio under 
+sail: 
+With him is Gratiano gone along; 
+
+
+_ And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not. 
+
+
+Salan. The villain Jew with outcries raised 
+the duke, 
+Who went with him to search Bassanio’s ship. 
+Salar. He came too late, the ship was 
+under sail: 
+But there the duke was given to understand 
+That in a gondola were seen together 
+Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica: 
+
+
+Besides, Antonio certified the duke 10 
+
+
+_ They were not with Bassanio in his ship. 
+
+
+Salan.s. I never heard a passion so confused, 
+So strange, outrageous, and so variable, 
+As the dog Jew did utter in the streets: 
+*My daughter! O my ducats! O my daughter! 
+Fled with a Christan! O my Christian ducats! 
+Justice! the law! my ducats, and my daughter! 
+A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats, 
+
+
+—s 
+7 4 
+
+
+THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
+
+
+23t 
+
+
+Of double ducats, stolen from me by my 
+
+
+daughter! 
+And jewels, two stones, two rich and precious 
+stones, 20 
+
+
+Stolen by my daughter! Justice! find the girl; 
+She hath the stones upon her, and the ducats.* 
+sail Why, all the boys in Venice follow 
+im, 
+Crying, his stones, his daughter, and his ducats. 
+Salan. Let good Antonio look he keep his 
+day, 
+Or he shall pay for this. 
+Salar. Marry, well remember'd, 
+I reason’d with a Frenchman yesterday, 
+Who told me, in the narrow seas that part 
+The French and English, there miscarried 
+A vessel of our country richly fraught: 
+I thought upon Antonio when he told me; 
+And wish’d in silence that it were not his. 
+Salan. You were best to tell Antonio 
+what you hear; 
+Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him. 
+Salar. A kinder gentleman treads not the 
+earth. 
+I saw Bassanio and Antonio part: 
+Bassanio told him he would make some speed 
+Of his return: he answer'd, ‘Do not so; 
+Slubber not business for my sake, Bassanio, 
+But stay the very riping of the time; 40 
+And for the Jew’s bond which he hath of me, 
+Let it not enter in your mind of love: 
+Be merry, and employ your chiefest thoughts 
+To courtship and such fair ostents of love 
+As shall conveniently become you there: 
+And even there, his eye being big with tears, 
+Turning his face, he put his hand behind him, 
+And with affection wondrous sensible 
+He wrung Bassanio’s hand; and so they 
+
+
+306 
+
+
+parted. 
+Salan. I think he only loves the world for 
+him. 50 
+
+
+I pray thee, let us go and find him out 
+And quicken his embraced heaviness 
+With some delight or other. 
+Salar. Do we so. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IX. Belmont. A room in Portia’s 
+house. 
+Enter NeErIssa with a Servitor. 
+Ner. Quick, quick, I pray thee; draw the 
+curtain straight: 
+The Prince of Arragon hath ta’en his oath, 
+And comes to his election presently. 
+
+Flourish of cornets. Enter the PRINCE OF 
+Arracon, Portia, and their trains. 
+Por. Behold, there stand the caskets, noble 
+
+prince: 
+If you choose that wherein I am contain’d. 
+
+
+y \ 
+232 
+
+
+Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemnized: 
+But if you fail, without more speech, my lord, 
+You must be gone from hence immediately. 
+Ar. J am enjoin'd by oath to observe three 
+First, never to unfold to any one 10 
+Which casket "twas I chose; next, if I fail 
+Of the right casket never in my life 
+To woo a maid in way of marriage: 
+Lastly, 
+If I do fail in fortune of my choice, 
+Immediately to leave you and be gone. 
+Por. To these injunctions every one doth 
+swear 
+That comes to hazard for my worthless self. 
+Ar. And so have I address’d me. Fortune 
+now 
+To my heart's hope! 
+lead. 
+‘Who chooseth me must give and hazard all 
+he hath.’ 
+You shall look fairer, ere I give or hazard. 
+What says the golden chest? ha! let me see: 
+‘Who chooseth me shall gain what many 
+men desire.” 
+What many men desire! that “many " may be 
+meant 
+By the fool multitude, that choose by show, 
+Not learning more than the fond eye doth 
+teach; 
+Which pries not to the interior, but, like the 
+martlet, 
+Builds in the weather on the outward wall, 
+Even in the force and road of casualty. 
+I will not choose what many men desire, 
+Because { will not jump with common spirits 
+And rank me with the barbarous multitudes. 
+Why, then to thee, thou silver treasure-house; 
+Tell me once more what title thou dost bear: 
+‘Who chooseth me shall get as much as he 
+deserves ;’ 
+And well sa‘d too; for who shall go about 
+To cozen fortune and be honourable 
+Without the stamp of merit? Let none presume 
+To wear an undeserved dignity. 
+O, that estates, degrees and offices 
+Were not derived corruptly, and that clear 
+honour 
+Were purcnased by the merit of the wearer! 
+How many then should cover that stand bare! 
+How many be commanded that command! 
+How much low peasantry would then be glean’d 
+From the true seed of honour! and how much 
+honour 
+Pick’d from the chaff and ruin of the times 
+To be new-varnish'd! Well, but to my choice: 
+‘Who chooseth me shall get as much as he 
+deserves.’ 5 
+I will assume desert. Give me a key for 
+this, 
+
+
+Gold; silver; and base 
+20 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
+
+
+po 
+
+
+0| Thou spend’st such high-day wit in praising — 
+
+
+[Acr II, Sc. IX 
+And instantly unlock my fortunes here. 
+[He opens the silver casket. 
+Por. Too long a pause for that which you 
+find there. 
+Ar. What's here? the portrait of a blink- 
+ing idiot, 
+Presenting me a schedule! I will read it. 
+How much unlike art thou to Portia! 
+How much like my hopes and my deservings! 
+* Who chooseth me shall have as much as he 
+deserves.” 
+Did I deserve no more than a fool’s head? 
+Is that my prize? are my deserts no better? 60 
+Por. To offend, and judge, are distinct offices 
+And of opposed natures. 
+Ke What is here? 
+[Reads] The fire seven times tried this: 
+Seven times tried that judgement is, . 
+That did never choose amiss. 
+Some there be that shadows kiss; 
+Such have but a shadow’s bliss: 
+There be fools alive, I wis, 
+Silver’d o’er; and so was this. 
+Take what wife you will to bed, 70 
+I will ever be your head: 
+So be gone: you are sped. 
+
+
+Still more fool I shall appear 
+By the time I linger here: 
+With one fool’s head I came to woo, 
+But I go away with two. 
+Sweet, adieu. I'll keep my oath, 
+Patiently to bear my wroth. 
+{Exeunt Arragon and train, — 
+Por. Thus hath the candle snged the moth. 
+O, these deliberate fools! when they do choose, 
+They have the wisdom by their wit to lose. 81 
+Ner. The ancient saying is no heresy, 
+Hanging and wiving goes by destiny. 
+Por. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa. 
+
+
+Enter a Servant. 
+
+
+Serv. Where is my lady? ' 
+Por. Here: what would my lord? ~ 
+Serv. Madam, there is alighted at your gate _ 
+A young Venetian, one that comes before 
+To sign’fy the approaching of his lord; 
+From whom he bringeth sensible regrets, 
+To wit, besides commends and courteous — 
+breath, 
+Gifts of rich value. Yet I have not seen 91. 
+So likely an ambassador of love: 
+A day in April never came so sweet, 
+To show how costly summer was at hand, 
+As this. fore-spurrer comes before his lord. 
+Por. No more, | pray thee: I am half afeard 
+Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee, 
+
+
+him. 
+Come, come, Nerissa; for I long to see 
+
+
+TAL, 
+
+
+_— 
+
+
+THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 233 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+Quick Cupid’s post that comes so mannerly. 
+Wer. Bassanio, lord Love. if thy will it be! 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT IIE. 
+
+
+Scene I. Venice. A street, 
+Enter SALANio and SaLarRINo. 
+
+
+Salan. Now, what news on the Rialto? 
+Salar. Why, yet it lives there unchecked 
+that Antonio hath a ship of rich lading 
+_ wrecked on the narrow seas; the Goodwins, | 
+think they call the place; a very dangerous 
+
+flat and fatal, where the carcases of many a 
+tall ship lie buried, as they say, if my gossip 
+- Report be an honest woman of her word. 
+
+Salan. 1 would she were as lying a gossip 
+in that as ever knapped ginger or made her 
+neighbours believe she wept for the death of 
+
+a third husband. But it is true, without any 
+\ slips of prolixity or crossing the plain highway 
+of talk, that the good Antonio, the honest 
+Antonio, O that I had a title good enough 
+- to keep his name company!— 
+
+Salar, Come, the full stop. 
+
+Salan. Ha! what sayest thou? Why, the 
+end is, he hath lost a ship. 
+
+Salar. 1 would it might prove the end of 
+his losses. 21 
+_ Salan. Let me say ‘amen’ betimes, lest 
+_ the devil cross my prayer, for here he comes 
+in the likeness of a Jew. 
+
+
+= Enter Suytock. 
+
+
+SLT ey 
+
+
+4% 
+
+~ How, now, ‘Shylock! what news among the 
+
+_ merchants ? 
+
+_ Shy. You knew, none so well, none so 
+
+Well as you, of my daughter’s Hight. 
+
+__ Salar, That's certain: I, for my part, knew 
+
+the tailor that made the wings she flew withal. 
+
+__ Salan, And Shylock, for his own part, 
+knew the bird was fledged; and then it is the 
+complexion of them all to leave the dam. 
+
+_ Shy. She is damned for it. 
+
+_ Salar, That’s certain, if the devil may be 
+her judge. 
+
+__ Shy. My own flesh and blood to rebel! 
+
+_ Salan. Out upon it, old carrion! rebels it 
+
+t these years? 
+
+Shy. I say, my daughter is my flesh and 
+
+lood. 40 
+Salar. There is more difference between 
+
+thy flesh and hers than between jet and ivory; 
+
+more between your bloods than there is be- 
+
+ie red wine and rhenish. But tell us, do 
+
+you hear whether Antonio have had any loss 
+
+Pat sea or no? 
+
+__ Shy. There I have another bad match: a 
+
+bankrupt, a prodigal, who dare scarce show 
+
+
+é 
+
+
+his head on the Rialto; a beggar, that was 
+used to come so smug upon the mart; let him 
+look to his bond: he was wont to call me 
+usurer; let him look to his bond: he was 
+wont to lend money for a Christian courtesy ; 
+let him look to his bond. 
+
+Salar, Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou 
+wilt not take his flesh; what's that good for? 
+
+Shy. To bait fish withal: if it will feed 
+nothing else, it will feed my revenge. He hath 
+disgraced me, and hindered me half a million; 
+flaughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, 
+scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, 
+cooled my friends, heated mine enemies; and 
+what's his reason? I am a Jew. Hath not a 
+Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, di- 
+mensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with 
+the same food, hurt with the same weapons, 
+subject to the same diseases, healed by the 
+same means, warmed and cooled by the same 
+winter and summer, as a Christian is? If 
+you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle 
+us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we 
+not die> and if you wrong us, shall we not 
+revenge? If we are like you in the rest, 
+we will resemble you in that. If a Jew 
+wrong a Christian, what is his humility? 
+Revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what 
+should this sufferance be by Christian ex- 
+ample? Why, revenge. The villany you 
+teach me, I will execute, and it shall go 
+hard but I will better the instruction. 
+
+
+Enter a Servant. 
+
+
+Serv. Gentlemen, my master Antonio is af 
+his house and desires to speak with you both, 
+Salar, We have been up and down to 
+seek him. 79 
+
+
+Enter Tusa. 
+
+
+Salan. Here comes another of the tribe: a 
+third cannot be matched, unless’ the devil 
+himself turn Jew. 
+
+[Exeunt Salan., Salar., and Servant. 
+
+Shy. How now, Tubal! what news from 
+Genoa? hast thou found my daughter? 
+
+Tub. I often came where I did hear of her, 
+but cannot find her. 
+
+Shy. Why, there, there, there, there! a 
+diamond gone, cost me two thousand ducats 
+in Frankfort! The curse never fell upon 
+our nation till now; I never felt it till now: 
+two thousand ducats in that; and other 
+precious, precious jewels. I would my daugh- 
+ter were dead at my foot, and the jewels in 
+her ear! would she were hearsed at my foot, 
+and the ducats in her coffin! No news of 
+them? Why, so: and I know not what’s 
+spent in the search: why, thou loss upon 
+loss! the thief gone with so much, and so 
+
+
+234 
+
+
+THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
+
+
+[Act III, Sc. 1 
+
+
+much to find the thief; and no satisfaction, 
+no revenge; nor no ill luck stirring but what 
+lights on my shoulders; no sighs but of my 
+breathing; no tears but of my shedding. 101 
+
+Tub. Yes, other men have ill luck too: 
+Antonio, as I heard in Genoa,— 
+
+Shy. What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck > 
+
+Tub. Hath an argosy cast away, coming 
+from Tripolis. 
+
+Shy. I thank God, I thank God. Is’t true, 
+is 't true? 
+
+Tub. | spoke with some of the sailors that 
+escaped the wreck. 110 
+
+Shy. 1 thank thee, good Tubal: good 
+news, good news! ha, ha! where? in Genoa? 
+
+Tub. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I 
+heard, in one night fourscore ducats. 
+
+Shy. Thou stickest a dagger in me: I 
+shall never see my gold again: fourscore 
+ducats at a sitting! fourscore ducats! 
+
+Tub. There came divers of Antonio's 
+creditors in my company to Venice, that 
+swear he cannot choose but break. 120 
+
+Shy. I am very glad of it: I'll plague 
+him; I'll torture him: I am glad of it. 
+
+Tub. One of them showed me a ring that 
+he had of your daughter for a monkey. 
+
+Shy. Out upon her! Thou torturest me, 
+Tubal: it was my turquoise: I had it of 
+Leah when I was a bachelor: I would not 
+have given it for a wilderness of monkeys. 
+
+Tub. But Antonio is certainly undone. 129 
+
+Shy. Nay, that’s true, that’s very true. 
+Go, Tubal, fee me an officer; bespeak him a 
+fortnight before. I will have the heart of 
+him, if he forfeit; for, were he out of 
+Venice, I can make what merchandise I will. 
+Go, go, Tubal, and meet.me at our syna- 
+gogue; go, good Tubal; at our synagogue, 
+Tubal. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. Belmont. A room in Portia’s 
+house. 
+
+
+Enter Bassanio, Portia, GRATIANO, 
+NerissaA, and Attendants. 
+
+
+Por. 1 pray you, tarry: pause a day or two 
+Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong, 
+I lose your company; therefore forbear a 
+
+while. 
+There’s something tells me, but it is not love, 
+I would not lose you; and you know yourself, 
+Hate counsels not in such a quality. 
+But lest you should not understand me well,— 
+And yet a maiden hath no tongue but 
+thought,— 
+1 would detain you here some month or two 9 
+Before you venture for me. I could teach you 
+How to choose right, but I am then forsworn; 
+So will I never be: so may you miss me; 
+
+
+But if you do you'll make me wish a sin, 
+That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your 
+eyes, 
+They have o’erlook’d me and divided me; 
+One half of me is yours, the other half yours, 
+Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then 
+yours, 
+And so all yours. O, these naughty times 
+Put bars between the owners and their rights! 
+And so, though yours, not yours. Prove it so. 
+Let fortune go to hell for it, not I. 21 
+I speak too long; but ‘tis to peize the time, 
+To eke it and to draw it out in length, 
+To stay you from election. 
+Bass. Let me choose; 
+For as I am, I live upon ‘he rack. 
+ere Upon the rack, Bassanio! then con- 
+ess ‘ 
+What treason there is mingled with your love. 
+Bass. None but that ugly treason of mis- | 
+trust, y 
+Whe makes me fear the enjoying of my | 
+ove: a 
+There may as well be amity and life 30 
+‘Tween snow and fire, as treason and my | 
+love. 7 
+Por. Ay, but I fear you speak upon the 
+rack, 
+Where men enforced do speak anything. 
+Bass. Promise me life, and I'll confess 
+the truth. 
+Por. Well, then, confess and live. 
+Bass. ‘Confess’ and ‘love" — 
+Had been the very sum of my confession: 
+O happy toyment, when my torturer 
+Doth teach me answers for deliverance! 
+But let me to my fortune and the caskets. 
+Por. Away, then! I am lock'd in one of 
+them: 40 
+If you do love me, you will find me out. 
+Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof. | 
+Let music sound while he doth make his’ 
+choice; 
+Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end, 
+Fading in music: that the comparison 
+May stand more proper, my eye shall be the - 
+stream } 
+And watery death-bed for him. He may win; | 
+And what is music then? Then music is ai 
+Even as the flourish when true subjects bow 
+To a new-crowned monarch; such it is 50 
+As are those dulcet sounds in break of day 
+That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear 
+And summon him to marriage. Now he goes, | 
+With no less presence, but with much more 
+love, 
+Than young Alcides, when he did redeem 
+The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy 
+To the sea-monster: | stand for sacrifice; 
+
+
+| 
+] 
+
+
+\ 
+! 
+| 
+; 
+| 
+| 
+
+
+~ 
+
+
+Act III, Se. II] 
+
+
+ae ere \ 
+
+
+THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
+
+
+235 
+
+
+The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives, 
+With bleared visages, come forth to view 
+The issue of the exploit. Go, Hercules! 60 
+Live thou, I live: with much much more dis- 
+
+
+may 
+I view the fight than thou that makest the fray. 
+
+
+Music, whilst BassaNio comments on the 
+caskets to himself. 
+
+
+Sone. 
+
+
+Tell me where is fancy bred, 
+Or in the heart or in the head? 
+How begot, how nourished ? 
+Reply, reply. 
+It is engender'd in the eyes, 
+With gazing fed; and fancy dies 
+In the cradle where it lies. 
+Let us all ring fancy’s knell: 
+I'll begin it—Ding, dong, bell. 
+All. Dong, dong, bell. 
+~ Bass. So may the outward shows be least 
+themselves: 
+The world is still deceived with ornament. 
+In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt 
+But, being season’d with a gracious voice, 
+Obscures the show of evil? In religion, 
+What damned error, but some sober brow 
+Will bless it and approve it with a text, 
+Hiding the grossness with fa‘r ornament? 
+There is no vice so simple but assumes 
+Some mark of virtue on his outward parts: 
+How many cowards, whose hearts are all as 
+false 
+As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins 
+The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars, 
+Who, inward search’d, have livers white as 
+milk; 
+And these assume but valour’s excrement 
+To render them redoubted! Look on beauty, 
+And you shall see ‘tis purchased by the 
+we'ght; 
+Which therein works a miracle in nature, 90 
+Making them lightest that wear most of it: 
+So are those crisped snaky golden locks 
+Which make such wanton gambols with the 
+wind, 
+Upon supposed fairness, often known 
+To be the dowry of a second head, 
+The skull that bred them in the sepulchre. 
+us ornament is but the guiled shore 
+To a most dangerous sea; the beauteous scarf 
+7Veiling an Indian beauty; in a word, 
+The seeming truth which cunning time puts on 
+To entrap the wisest. Therefore. thou gaudy 
+gold, 101 
+Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee; 
+Nor none of thee, thou pale and common 
+
+
+drudge 
+
+
+70 
+
+
+80 
+
+
+hase man and man: but thou, thou meagre 
+
+ead, 
+
+Which rather threatenest than dost promise 
+aught, 
+
+Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence; 
+
+And here choose I: joy be the consequence! 
+
+Por. [Aside] How all the other passions 
+
+fleet to air, 
+
+As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embraced de- 
+
+
+spalr, 
+
+
+| And shuddering fear, and green-eyed jealousy! 
+
+
+O love, 
+
+Be moderate; allay thy ecstasy; 
+
+In measure rein thy joy; scant this excess, 
+I feel too much thy blessing: make it less, 
+
+
+For fear I surfeit. 
+Bass. What find I here> 
+[Opening the leaden casket. 
+Fa’r Portia’s counterfeit! What demi-god 
+Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes? 
+Or whether, riding on the balls of mine, 
+Seem they in motion? Here are sever'd lips, 
+Parted with sugar breath: so sweet a bar 120 
+Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in 
+her hairs 
+The painter plays the spider and hath woven 
+A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men 
+Faster than gnats in cobwebs: but her eyes,— 
+How could he see to do them? having made 
+one, 
+
+
+Methinks it should have power to steal both 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+is 
+And leaye itself unfurnish'd. Yet look, how 
+far 
+The substance of my praise doth wrong this 
+shadow 
+In underprizing it, so far this shadow 
+Doth limp behind the substance. Here's the 
+scroll, 130 
+The continent and summary of my fortune. 
+[Reads] You that choose not by the view, 
+Chance as fair and choose as true! 
+Since this fortune falls to you, 
+Be content and seek no new. 
+If you be well pleased with this 
+And hold your fortune for your bliss, 
+Turn you where your lady is 
+And cla‘m her with a loving kiss. 
+A gentle scroll. Fai lady, by your leave; 140 
+I come by note, to give and to receive. 
+Like one of two contending in a prize, 
+That thinks he hath done well in people's 
+eyes, ; 
+Hearing applause and universal shout, 
+Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt 
+Whether those peals of praise be his or no; 
+So, thrice-fair lady, stand I, even so; 
+As doubtful whether what I see be true, 
+Until confirm'd, sign’d, ratified by you 
+
+
+236 
+
+
+Por. You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I 
+stand, 150 
+Such as | am: though for myself alone 
+I would not be ambitious in my wish, 
+To wish myself much better; yet, for you 
+I would be trebled twenty times myself; 
+A thousand times more fair, ten thousand 
+times } 
+More rich; 
+That only to stand high in your account, 
+I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends, 
+Exceed account; but the full sum of me 159 
++ Is sum of something, which, to term in gross, 
+Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractised; 
+Happy in this, she is not yet so old 
++But she may learn; happier than this, 
+She is not bred so dull but she can learn; 
+Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit 
+Commits itself to yours to be directed, 
+As from her lord, her governor, her king. 
+Myself and what is mine to you and yours 
+Is now converted: but now | was the lord 
+OF this fair mansion, master of my servants, 
+Queen o'er myself; and even now, but now, 
+This house, these servants and this same my- 
+self 
+Are yours, my lord: I give them with this 
+ring; 
+Which when you part from, lose, or give 
+away, 
+Let it presage the ruin of your love 
+nd be my vantage to exclaim on you. 
+Bass. Madam, you have bereft me of all 
+words, 
+Only my blood speaks to you in my veins; 
+And there is such confus on in my powers, 
+As, after some oration fairly spoke 180 
+By a beloved prince, there doth appear 
+Among the buzzing pleased multitude; 
+Where every something, being blent together, 
+Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy, 
+Express’d and not express’d. But when this 
+ring 
+Parts from this finger, then parts life from 
+hence: 
+O, then be bold to say Bassanio’s dead! 
+Ner. My lord and lady, it is now our time, 
+That have stood by and seen our wishes 
+prosper, 
+To cry, good joy: good joy, my lord and 
+lady! 
+Gra. My lord Bassanio and my gentle lady, 
+I wish you all the joy that you can wish; 
+For I am sure you can wish none from me: 
+And when your honours mean to solemnize 
+The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you, 
+Even at that time I may be married too. 
+Bass. With all my heart, so thou canst get 
+a wife. 
+
+
+THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
+
+
+i a 
+
+
+[Act Ill, Sc. 1 
+
+
+Gra. I thank your lordship, you have got 
+me one. / ; 
+My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours: 
+You saw the mistress, | beheld the maid; 200 
+You loved, I loved for interm’ssion. 
+No more pertains to me, my lord, than you, 
+Your fortune stood upon the casket there, 
+And so did mine too, as the matter falls; 
+For wooing here until I sweat again, 
+And swearing till my very roof was dry 
+With oaths of love, at last, if promise last, 
+I got a promise of this fair one here 
+To have her love, provided that your fortune 
+Achieved her mistress. 
+Por. Is this true, Ner‘ssa? 210 
+Ner. Madam, it is, so you stand pleased 
+withal, : 
+Bass. And do you, Gratiano, mean good 
+faith? 
+Gra. Yes, faith, my lord. 
+Bass. Our feast shall be much honour'd in — 
+your marriage. : 
+Gra. We'll play with them the first boy 
+for a thousand ducats, 
+Ner. What, and stake down? 
+Gra. No; we shall ne’er win at that sport, 
+and stake down. 
+But who comes here? 
+fidel > . 
+What, and my old Venetian friend Salerio? — 
+
+
+Enter Lorenzo, Jessica, and SALERIO, 
+a Messenger from Venice, 
+
+
+Lorenzo and his in- — 
+
+
+Bass. Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hither; _ 
+If that the youth of my new interest here : 
+Have power to bid you welcome. By your 
+
+leave, ‘i 
+I bid my friends and countrymen, 
+Sweet Portia, welcome. 7 
+
+Por. So do I, my lord; 
+They are entirely welcome. 
+
+Lor. I thank your honour. 
+
+my lord, a 
+My purpose was not to have seen you here; 230 
+But meeting with Salerio by the way, ; 
+He did intreat me, past all saying nay, 
+To come with him along. 
+
+Saler. I did, my lord; 
+And I have reason for it. Signor Antonio _ 
+Commends him to you. 
+
+|Gives Bassanio a letter. — 
+
+Bass. Ere I ope his letter, : 
+I pray you, tell me how my good friend doth, 
+
+Saler. Not sick, my lord, unless it be in — 
+
+mind; ee 
+Nor well, unless in mind: his letter there 
+Will show you his estate. } 
+
+Gra. Nerissa, cheer yon stranger; bid her 
+
+welcome. 240 
+
+
+For my part, 
+
+
+THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 237 
+
+
+‘Your hand, Salerio: what's the news from 
+Venice? 
+
+‘How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio? 
+I know he will be glad of our success; 
+
+We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece. 
+
+Sailer, I would you had won the fleece that 
+
+he hath lost. 
+
+Por. There are some shrewd contents in 
+
+yon same paper, 
+_ That steals the colour from Bassanio’s cheek: 
+Some dear friend dead; else nothing in the 
+world 
+Could turn so much the constitution 
+Of any constant man. What, worse and worse! 
+With leave, Bassanio; | am half yourself, 251 
+And | must freely have the half of anything 
+That this same paper brings you. 
+
+Bass. O sweet Portia, 
+Here are a few of the unpleasant’st words 
+That ever blotted paper! Gentle lady, . 
+When I did first impart my love to you, 
+
+I freely told you, all the wealth I had 
+
+Ran in my veins, I was a gentleman; 
+
+And then I told you true: and yet, dear lady, 
+
+_ Rating myself at nothing, you shall s.e 260 
+How much I was a braggart. When I told 
+
+
+you 
+My state was nothing, I should then have 
+told you 
+
+
+_ That I was worse than nothing; for, indeed, 
+I have engaged myself to a dear friend, 
+Engaged my frend to his mere enemy, 
+To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady; 
+_ The paper as the body of my friend, 
+_ And every word in it a gaping wound, 
+Issuing life-blood. But is it true, Salerio? 
+_ Have all his ventures fail’d?. What, not one 
+We hit? 270 
+_ From Tripolis, from Mexico and England, 
+_ From Lisbon, Barbary and India? 
+_ And not one yessel ‘scaped the dreadful touch 
+4, Of merchant-marring rocks? 
+— Saler. Not one, my lord. 
+rf Besides, it should appear, that if he had 
+The present money to discharge the Jew, 
+_ He would not take it. Never did I know 
+_ A creature, that did bear the shape of man, 
+_ So keen and greedy to confound a man: 
+¢ He plies the duke at morning and at night, 280 
+_ And doth impeach the freedom of the state, 
+If they deny him justice: twenty merchants, 
+- The duke himself, and the magnificoes 
+M OF greatest port, have all persuaded with him; 
+_ But none can drive him from the envious plea 
+¢ Of forfeiture, of justice and h’s bond. 
+aad 
+
+
+Jes. When I was with him I haye heard 
+him swear 
+_ To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen, 
+That he would rather have Antonio's flesh 
+? 
+he 
+
+
+Than twenty times the value of the sum 290 
+That he did owe him: and I know, my lord. 
+If law, authority and power deny not, 
+It will go hard with poor Antonio, 
+Por, Is it your dear friend that is thus in 
+trouble ? 
+Bass, The dearest friend to me, the kind- 
+est man, 
+The best-condition’d and unwearied spirit 
+In doing courtesies, and one in whom 
+The ancient Roman honour more appears 
+Than any that draws breath in Italy. 
+Por. What sum owes he the Jew? 300 
+Bass. For me three thousand ducats. 
+Por. What, no more? 
+Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond; 
+Double six thousand, and then treble that, 
+Before a friend of this description 
+Shall lose a hair through Bassanio’s fault. 
+First go with me to church and call me wife, 
+And then away to Venice to your friend; 
+For never shall you lie by Portia’s side 
+With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold 
+To pay the petty debt twenty times over: 310 
+When it is paid, bring your true friend along. 
+My maid Nerissa and myself meantime 
+Will live as maids and widows. Come, away! 
+For you shall hence upon your wedding-day: 
+Bid your friends welcome, show a merry 
+cheer: 
+Since you are dear bought, I will love you 
+dear. 
+But let me hear the letter of your friend. 
+Bass. [Reads] Sweet Bassanio, my ships 
+have all miscarried, my creditors grow cruel, 
+my estate is very low, my bond to the Jew is 
+forfeit; and since in paying it, it is im- 
+possible I should live, all debts are cleared 
+between you and I, if I might but see you at 
+my death. Notwithstanding, use your pleas- 
+ure: if your love do not persuade you to 
+come, let not my letter. 
+Por. O love, dispatch all business, and be 
+gone! 
+Bass, Since I have your good leave to go 
+away, 
+I will make haste: but, till I come again, 
+No bed shall e’er be guilty of my stay, 
+No rest be interposer "twixt us twain. 330 
+] Exeunt. 
+Scene III. Venice. A street. 
+Enter Suytocx, SaLarino, ANTONIO, and 
+Gaoler, 
+Shy. Gaoler, look to him: tell not me of 
+mercy; 
+This is the fool that lent out money gratis: 
+Gaoler, look to him. 
+Ant. Hear me yet, good Shylock, 
+
+
+238 > 
+
+
+THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+[Act III, Sc. IV 
+
+
+Shy. I'll have my bond; speak not against] Nor shall not now: for in companions 
+
+
+my bond: 
+I have sworn an oath that I will have my 
+bond. 
+Thou call’dst me dog’ before thou hadst a 
+cause; 
+But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs: 
+The duke shall grant me justice. I do wonder, 
+Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond 
+To come abroad with him at his request. 10 
+Ant. I pray thee, hear me speak. 
+Shy. I'll have my bond; I will not hear 
+thee speak: 
+I'll have my bond; and therefore speak no 
+more. 
+Ill not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool, 
+To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield 
+To Christian inercessors. Follow not; 
+I'll have no speaking: I will have my bond. 
+[Exit. 
+Salar. It is the most impenetrable cur 
+That ever kept with men. 
+Ant. Let him alone: 
+I'll follow him no more with bootless prayers. 
+He seeks my life; his reason well I know: 21 
+I oft deliver’d from his forfeitures 
+Many that have at times made moan to me; 
+Therefore he hates me. 
+Salar. I am sure the duke 
+Will never grant this forfeiture to hold. 
+Ant. The duke cannot deny the course of 
+law: 
+For the commodity that strangers have 
+With us in Venice, if it be der‘ed, 
+Will much impreach the justice of his state; 
+Since that the trade and profit of the city 30 
+Consisteth of all nations. Therefore, go: 
+These griefs and losses have so bated me, 
+That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh 
+To-morrow to my bloody creditor. 
+Well, gaoler, on. Pray God, Bassanio come 
+To see me pay his debt, and then I care not! 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Belmont. A room in Portia’s 
+house. 
+
+
+Portia, NertssA, LorENzo, 
+sica, and BALTHASAR. 
+Lor. Madam, although I speak it in your 
+
+presence, 
+
+You have a noble and a true conceit 
+
+Of god-like amity; which appears most strongly 
+
+In bearing thus the absence of your lord. 
+
+But if you knew to whom you show this honour, 
+
+How true a gentleman you send relief, 
+
+How dear a lover of my lord your husband, 
+
+I know you would be prouder of the work 
+
+Than customary bounty can enforce you. 
+Por. I never did repent for deo good, 10 
+
+
+Enter Jes- 
+
+
+That do converse and waste the time together, __ 
+Whose souls do bear an equal yoke of love, 
+There must be needs a like proportion 
+Of lineaments, of manners and of spirit; 
+Which makes me think that this Antonio, 
+Being the bosom lover of my lord, :: 
+Must needs be like my lord. If it be so, 
+How little is the cost I have bestow’d 
+In purchasing the semblance of my soul 20 
+From out the state of. hellish misery! ) 
+This comes too near the praising of myself; 
+Therefore no more of it: hear other things. 
+Lorenzo, I commit into your hands 
+The husbandry and manage of my house 
+Until my lord’s return: for mine own part, 
+I have toward heaven breathed a secret vow 
+To live in prayer and contemplatiea, 
+Only attended by Nerissa here, 
+Until her husband and my lord's return: 
+There is a monastery vo miles off; 
+And there will we abide. I do desire you 
+Not to deny this imposition; 
+The which my love and some necessity 
+Now lays upon you. 
+Lor. Madam, with all my heart; 
+I shall obey you in all fair commands. 
+Por. My people do already know my mind, 
+And will acknowledge you and Jessica 
+In place of Lord Bassanio and myself. 
+And so farewell, till we shall meet again. 40 
+Lor. Fair thoughts and happy hours at- 
+tend on you! 
+Jes. I wish your ladyship all heart’s content. 
+Por. I thank you for your wish, and am 
+well pleased a 
+To wish it back on you: fare you well, Jessica, 
+[Exeunt Jessica and Lorenzo, 
+Now, Balthasar, 
+As I have ever found thee honest-true, 
+So let me find thee still. Take this same letter, 
+And use thou all the endeavour of a man 
+In speed to Padua: see thou render this 
+Into my cousin’s hand, Doctor Bellario; 50 
+And, look, what notes and garments he doth ~ 
+give thee, i: 
+Bring them, I pray thee, with imagined speed 
+Unto the tranect; to the common ferry F: 
+Which trades to Venice. Waste no t'me in — 
+words, 
+But get thee gone: I shall be there before thee. 
+Balth. Madam, I go with all convenient 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+speed. [Exit. 
+Por. Come on, Nerissa; I have work in 
+hand 
+
+
+That you yet know not of: we'll see our hus- 
+bands 
+Before they think of us. 
+Ner, Shall they see us? 
+
+
+Act III, Se. V] 
+
+
+Por. They shall, Nerissa; but in such a 
+habit, 60 
+That they shall think we are accomplished 
+With that we lack. I'll hold thee any wager, 
+When we are both accoutred like young men, 
+I'll prove the prettier fellow of the two, 
+And wear my dagger with the braver grace, 
+
+
+_ And speak between the change of man and boy 
+
+
+W.th a reed voice, and turn two mincing steps 
+into a manly stride, and speak of frays 
+
+Like a fine bragging youth, and tell quaint lies, 
+How honourable ladies sought my love, 70 
+Which I denying, they fell sick and died; 
+
+I could not do withal; then I'll repent, 
+And wish, for all that, that I had not kill’d 
+
+them; 
+
+And twenty of these puny lies I''Il tell, 
+‘That men shall swear I have discontinued school 
+Above a twelvemonth. I have within my mind 
+
+
+. A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks, 
+
+
+Which I will practise. 
+
+Ner. Why, shall we turn to men? 
+Por. Fie, what a question's that, 
+If thou wert near a lewd interpreter! 80 
+But come, I'll tell thee all my whole device 
+When I am in my coach, which stays for us 
+At the park gate; and therefore haste away, 
+For we must measure twenty miles to-day. 
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene V. The same. A garden. 
+Enter LauNcELOT and Jessica. 
+
+
+Laun. Yes, truly; for, look you, the sins of 
+the father are to be laid upon the children: 
+therefore, I promise ye, I fear you. I was 
+always plain with you, and so now I speak 
+my agitation of the matter: therefore be of 
+good cheer, for truly I think you are damned. 
+There is but one hope in it that can do you 
+any good; and that is but a kind of bastard 
+hope neither. 
+
+Jes. And what hope is that, I pray thee? 10 
+
+Laun. Marry, you may partly hope that 
+
+
+_ your father got you not, that you are not the 
+
+
+Jew's daughter. 
+
+Jes. That were a kind of bastard hope, 
+indeed: so the sins of my mother should be 
+visited upon me. 
+
+Laun. Truly then I fear you are damned 
+both by father and mother: thus when I shun 
+Seylla, your father, I fall in Charybdis, your 
+mother: well, you are gone both ways. 20 
+
+Jes. Iyshall be saved by my husband; he 
+hath made me a Christian. 
+
+Laun. Truly, the more to blame he: we 
+
+
+were Christians enow before; e’en as many 
+
+
+as could well live, one by another. This 
+making of Christians will raise the price of 
+hogs: if we grow all to be vork-eaters, we 
+
+
+THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
+
+
+239 
+
+
+shall not shortly have a rasher on the coals for 
+money. 
+Enter Lorenzo. 
+
+Jes. I'll tell my husband, Launcelot, what 
+you say: here he comes. 30 
+
+Lor. I shall grow jealous of you shortly, 
+Launcelot, if you thus get my wife into corners. 
+
+Jes. Nay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo: 
+Launceiot and I are out. He tells me flatly, 
+there is no mercy for me in heaven, because 
+I am a Jew’s daughter: and he says, you are 
+no good member of the commonwealth, for 
+in converting Jews to Christians, you raise 
+the price of pork. 
+
+Lor. I shall answer that better to the com- 
+monwealth than you can the getting up of the 
+negro’s belly: the Moor is with child by you, 
+Launcelot. 
+
+Laun. It is much that the Moor should be 
+more than reason: but if she be less than an 
+honest woman, she is indeed more than I took 
+her for. 
+
+Lor. How every fool can play upon the 
+word! I think the best grace of wit will 
+shortly turn into silence, and discourse grow 
+commendable in none only but parrots. Go 
+you! then bid them prepare dinner. 
+
+Laun. That is done, sir; they have all 
+stomachs. 
+
+Lor. Goodly Lord, what a wit-snapper are 
+you; then bid them prepare dinner. 
+
+Laun. That is done too, sir; only ‘cover’ 
+
+is the word. 
+
+Lor. Will you cover then, sir? 
+
+Laun. Not so, sir, neither; I know my ° 
+
+duty. 59 
+
+Lor. Yet more quarrelling with occasion! 
+Wilt thou show the whole wealth of thy wit 
+in an instant? I pray thee, understand a 
+plain man in his plain meaning: go to thy 
+fellows; bid them cover the table, serve in 
+the meat, and we will come in to dinner. 
+
+Laun. For the table, sir, it shall be served 
+in; for the meat, sir, it shall be covered; for 
+your coming in to dinner, sir, why, let it be 
+as humours and conceits shall govern. [Exit. 
+
+Lor. O dear discretion, how his words are 
+
+suited! 70 
+The fcol hath planted in his memory 
+An army of good words; and I do know 
+A many fools, that stand in better place, 
+Garnish’d like him, that for a tricksy word 
+Defy the matter. How cheer’st thou, Jessica? 
+And now, good sweet, say thy opinion, 
+How dost thou like the Lord Bassanio’s wife? 
+
+Jes. Past all expressing. It is very meet 
+The Lord Bassanio live an upright life; 
+For, having such a blessing in his lady, 80 
+He finds the jcys of heaven here on earth; 
+
+
+240 
+
+
++ And if on earth he do not mean it, then 
+In reason he should never come to heaven. 
+Why, if two gods should play some heavenly 
+match 
+And on the wager lay two earthly women, 
+And Portia one, there must be something else 
+Pawn’'d with the other, for the poor rude world 
+Hath not her fellow. 
+Lor. Even such a husband 
+Hast thou of me as she is for a wife. 
+Jes. Nay, but ask my opinion too of that. 90 
+Lor. 1 will anon: first, let us go to dinner. 
+Jes. Nay, let me praise you while I have a 
+stomach, 
+Lor. No, pray thee, let it serve for table- 
+talk; 
+Then, howsoe’er thou speak’st, 
+things 
+I shall digest it. 
+Jes. Well, I'll set you forth. 
+
+
+ACT IV. 
+
+
+Scene I. Venice. A court of justice. 
+
+
+Enter the DuKE, the Magnificoes, ANTONIO, 
+Bassanio, GRATIANO, SALERIO, and others. 
+
+
+Duke. What, is Antonio here? 
+
+Ant. Ready, so please your grace. 
+
+Duke. 1 am sorry for thee: thou art come 
+
+to answer 
+
+A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch 
+Uncapable of pity, void and empty 
+From any dram of mercy. 
+
+Ant. I have heard 
+Your grace hath ta’en great pains to qualify 
+His rigorous course; but since he stands ob- 
+
+
+‘mong other 
+
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+durate 
+And that no lawful means can carry me 
+Out of his envy’s reach, I do oppose 10 
+
+
+My patience to his fury, and am arm’d 
+To suffer, with a quietness of spirit, 
+The very tyranny and rage of his. 
+
+
+Duke. Go one, and call the Jew into the 
+court, 
+Saler. He is ready at the door: he comes, 
+
+
+my_ lord. 
+Enter SHYLocK. 
+Duke. Make room, and let him stand be- 
+
+
+fore our face. 
+Shylock, the worid thinks, and I think so too, 
+That thou but lead’st th’s fashion of thy malice 
+To the last nour of act; and then ‘tis thought 
+Thou ‘lt show thy mercy and remorse more 
+strange 20 
+Than is thy strange apparent cruelty; 
+And where thou now exact'st the penalty, 
+Which is a pound of this poor merchant's 
+flesh, 
+Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture, 
+
+
+THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
+
+
+But, touch’d with human gentleness and love, 
+Forgive a moiety of the principal; 
+Glancing an eye of pity on his losses, 
+That have of late so huddled on his back, 
+Enow to press a royal merchant down : 
+And pluck comm seration of his state 30 a 
+From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint, — 
+From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never train’d 
+To offices of tender courtesy. 
+We all expect a gentle answer, Jew. 
+Shy. I have possess’d your grace of what 
+I purpose; 
+And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn 
+To have the due and forfeit of my bond: 
+If you deny it, let the danger light 
+Upon your charter and your city’s freedom. 
+You’ Il ask me, why I rather choose tohave 40 — 
+A weight of carrion flesh than to receive 
+Three thousand ducats: I "ll not answer that: 
+But, say, it is my humour: is it answer’d? 
+What if my house be troubled with a rat P 
+And I be pleased to give ten thousand ducats — 
+To have it baned>? What, are you an- — 
+swer'd yet? ; 
+Some men there are love not a gaping pig; 
+Some, that are mad if they behold a cat; 
+And others, when the bagpipe sings i’ the nose, | 
+Cannot contain their urine: for affection, 50% 
+Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood } 
+Of what it likes or loathes. Now. for your — 
+answer: : 
+As there is no firm reason to be render'd, 
+Why he cannot abide a gaping pig; 
+Why he, a harmless necessary cat; ; 
++ Why he, a woollen bagpipe; but of force 
+Must yield to such inevitable shame 
+As to offend, himself being offended; 
+So can I] give no reason, nor I will not, 1 
+More than a lodged hate and a certain loathing 
+I bear Antonio, that I follow thus 61 
+A losing suit against him. Are you answer’d? — 
+Bass. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man, — 
+To excuse the current of thy cruelty. 4 
+Shy. I am not bound to please thee with 
+my answers. ‘ 
+
+
+Bass. Do all men kill the things they do 
+not love? a 
+Shy. Hates any man the thing he woul 
+not kill? 
+Bass. Every offence is not a hate at first. 
+Shy. What, wouldst thou have a serpent — 
+
+
+sting thee twice? q 
+Ant. I pray you, think you question with — 
+the Jew: 0. 
+You may as well go stand upon the beach 
+And bid the main flood bate his usual height; 
+You may as well use question with the wolf 
+Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb; 
+
+
+You may as well forbid the mountain pines 
+
+
+ee. 
+
+
+- Act IV, Se. I] 
+
+
+_ To wag their high tops and to make no noise, 
+
+When they are fretten with the gusts of 
+heaven; ° 
+
+You may as well do any thing most hard, 
+
+As seek to soften that—than which what’s 
+harder ?— 
+
+His Jewish heart: therefore, I do beseech you, 
+
+Make no more offers, use no farther means, 81 
+
+But with all brief and plain conveniency 
+
+Let me have judgement and the Jew his will. 
+
+
+Bass. For thy three thousand ducats here | 
+
+
+is six. 
+
+Shy. If every ducat in six thousand ducats 
+Were in six parts and every part a ducat, 
+
+I would not draw them; I would have my 
+bond. 
+
+Duke. How shalt thou hope for mercy, 
+
+rendering none? 
+
+Shy. What judgement shall I dread, do- 
+
+ing no wrong? 
+You have among you many a purchased slave, 
+Which, like your asses and your dogs and 
+mules, 91 
+You use in abject and in slavish parts, 
+Because you bought them: shall I say to you, 
+Let them be free, marry them to your heirs? 
+Why sweat they under burthens? let their beds 
+Be made as soft as yours and let their palates 
+Be season’d with such viands? You will 
+answer 
+“The slaves are ours;’ so do I answer you: 
+The pound of flesh, which I demand of him, 
+Is dearly bought; "tis mine and I will have it. 
+If you deny me, fie upon your law! 101 
+There is no force in the decrees of Venice. 
+I stand for judgement: answer; shall I have it? 
+Duke. Upon my power I may dismiss this 
+court, 
+Unless Bellario, a learned doctor, 
+Whom I have sent for to determine this, 
+Come here to-day. 
+
+Saler. My lord, here stays without 
+_A messenger with letters from the doctor, 
+_ New come from Padua. 
+
+Duke. Bring us the letters; call the mes- 
+senger. 110 
+
+
+Bass. Good cheer, Antonio! What, man, 
+iF courage yet! 
+_ The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones 
+and all, 
+
+
+_ Ere thou shalt loose for me one drop of blood. 
+
+Ant. I am a tainted wether of the flock, 
+Meetest for death: the weakest kind of fruit 
+Drops earliest to the ground; and so let me: 
+You cannot better be employ'’d, Bassanio, 
+Than to live still and write mine epitaph. 
+
+
+THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
+
+
+ie Ra 9 
+
+
+24) 
+
+
+Ner. From both, my lord. Bellario greets 
+your grace. [Presenting a letter. 120 
+Bass. Why dost thou whet thy knife so 
+earnestly > 
+Shy. To cut the forfeiture from that bank- 
+rupt there, 
+Gra. Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, 
+harsh Jew, 
+Thou makest thy knife keen; but no metal can, 
+No, not the hangman's axe, bear half the 
+
+
+keenness 
+Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce 
+thee? 
+Shy. No, none that thou hast wit enough 
+to make. 
+
+
+Gra, O, be thou damn’d, inexecrable dog! 
+And for thy life let justice be accused. 
+Thou almost makest me waver in my faith 130 
+To hold opinion with Pythagoras, 
+
+That souls of animals infuse themselves 
+Into the trunks of men: thy currish spirit 
+Govern'd a wolf, who, hang’d for human 
+slaughter, 
+Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet, 
+And, wh lst thou lay’st in thy unhallow’d dam, 
+Infus’d itself in thee; for thy desires 
+Are wolvish, bloody, starved and ravenous. 
+Shy. Till thou canst rail the seal from off 
+my bond, 
+Thou but offend’st thy lungs to speak so loud: 
+Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall 14] 
+To cureless ruin. I stand here for law. 
+Duke. This letter from Bellario doth com< 
+mend 
+A young and learned doctor to our court. 
+
+
+Where is he? 
+
+Ner. He attendeth here hard by, 
+To know your answer, whether you ‘ll admit 
+
+him. 
+Duke. With all my heart. 
+four of you 
+
+Go give him courteous conduct to this place. 
+Meantime the court shall hear Bellario’s letter. 
+
+Clerk. [Reads] Your grace shall under- 
+stand that at the receipt of your letter I am 
+very sick: but in the instant that your mes- 
+senger came, in loving visitation was with me 
+a young doctor of Rome; his name is Baltha- 
+sar. I acquainted him with the cause jn con- 
+troversy between the jew and Antonio the 
+merchant: we turned o'er many books together: 
+he is furnished with my opinion; which, bet- 
+tered with his own learning, the greatness 
+whereof I cannot enough commend, comes 
+with him, at my importunity, to fill up your 
+grace’s request in my stead, I beseech you, let 
+
+
+Some three oy 
+
+
+_ Enter Nertssa, dressed like a lawyer's clerk. | his lack of years be no impediment to let him 
+Duke. Came you from Padua, from Bel-|lack a reverend estimation; for I] never knew 
+
+
+lario> 
+
+
+1so young a body with so old a head. 
+
+
+I leave 
+
+
+242 
+
+
+him to your gracious acceptance, whose trial 
+shall better publish his commendation. 
+Duke. You hear the learn'd Bellario, what 
+he writes: 
+And here, I take it, is the doctor come. 
+
+
+Enter Portia, dressed like a doctor of laws. 
+
+
+Give me your hand. Come you from old 
+Bellario? 
+
+Por. I did, my lord. 
+
+Duke. You are welcome: take your place. 
+Are you acquanted with the difference 171] 
+That holds this present-question in the court? 
+
+Por. 1 am informed throughly of the cause. 
+Which is the merchant here, and which the 
+
+Jew? 
+
+Duke. Antonio and old Shylock, both 
+
+stand forth. 
+
+Por. Is your name Shylock? 
+
+Shy. Shylock is my name. 
+. Of a strange nature is the suit you 
+
+follow; 
+Yet in such rule that the Venetian law 
+Cannot impugn you as you do proceed. 
+You stand within his danger, do you not? 180 
+Ant, Ay, so he says. 
+
+
+Por. Do you confess the bond? 
+Ant, 1. do. 
+Por. Then must the Jew be merciful. 
+
+
+Shy. On what compulsion must I? tell me 
+
+that. 
+
+Por. The quality of mercy is not strain’d, 
+It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 
+Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest; 
+It blesseth him that gives and him that takes: 
+‘Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes 
+The throned monarch better than his crown; 
+His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 
+The attribute to awe and majesty, 191 
+Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; 
+But mercy is above this sceptred sway; 
+
+It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, 
+
+It is an attribute to God himself; 
+
+And earthly power doth then show likest God's 
+
+When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, 
+
+Though justice be thy plea, consider this, 
+
+That, in the course of justice, none of us 199 
+
+Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy; 
+
+And that same prayer doth teach us all to 
+render 
+
+The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much 
+
+To mitigate the justice of thy plea; 
+
+Which if thou follow, this strict court of 
+Venice 
+
+Must needs give sentence gainst the merchant 
+there. 
+
+Shy. My deeds upon my head! 
+
+the law, 
+
+
+The penalty and forfeit of my bond. 
+
+
+I crave 
+
+
+THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. I 
+
+
+Por. Is he not able to discharge the money ? 
+Bass. Yes, here I tender it for him in the 
+court; 
+
+Yea, twice the sum: if that will not suffice, 210 
+
+I will be bound to pay it ten times o’er, 
+
+On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart: 
+
+If this will not suffice, it must appear 
+
+That malice bears down truth. And I be- 
+
+seech you, 
+
+Wrest once the law to your authority: 
+
+To do a great right, do a little wrong, 
+
+And curb this cruel devil of his will. 
+
+Por. It must not be; there is no power in 
+Venice 
+
+Can alter a decree established: 
+
+"Twill be recorded for a precedent, 220 
+
+And many an error by the same example 
+
+Will rush into the state: it cannot be. 
+
+Shy. A Daniel come to judgement! yea, a 
+Daniel! 
+
+O wise young judge, how I do honour thee! 
+Por. I pray you, let me look upon the bond. 
+Shy. _Here ‘tis, most reverend doctor, here 
+
+1t 1s. 
+
+
+Por. Shylock, there’s thrice thy money 
+offer'd thee. 
+
+Shy. An oath, an oath, I have an oath in 
+heaven: 
+
+
+Shall I lay perjury upon my soul? 
+No, not, for Venice. 
+
+Por. Why, this bond is forfeit; 
+And lawfully by this the Jew may claim 231 
+A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off 
+Nearest the merchant's heart. Be merciful: 
+Take thrice thysmoney; bid me tear the bond. — 
+
+Shy. When it is paid according to the | 
+
+tenour. 
+It doth appear you are a worthy judge; 
+You know the law, your exposition 
+Hath been most sound: I charge you by the law, 
+Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar, 
+Proceed to judgement: by my soul I swear 240 
+There is no power in the tongue of man 
+To alter me: I stay here on my bond. : 
+
+Ant, Most heartily I do beseech the court 
+To give the judgement. 
+
+or. Why then, thus it is: 
+You must prepare your bosom for his knife. 
+
+Shy. O noble judge! O excellent young © 
+
+man! ‘ 
+
+Por. For the intent and purpose of the law 
+Hath full relation to the penalty, 
+
+Which here appeareth due upon the bond. 
+
+Shy. "Tis very true: O wise and upright 
+
+judge! 250 
+How much more elder art thou than thy looks! 
+
+Por. Therefore lay bare your bosom. ‘ 
+
+Shy. Ay, his breast: 
+So says the bond: doth it not, noble judge? 
+
+
+Aer Ve Sal] 
+
+
+is AS Pe ee = | & 
+
+
+THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
+
+
+243 
+
+
+“Nearest his heart:’ those are the very words. 
+Por. It is so. Are there balance here to 
+
+weigh 
+
+The flesh? 
+
+Shy. I have them ready. 
+Por. Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on 
+your charge, 
+
+To stop his wounds lest he do bleed to death. 
+Shy. Is it so nominated in the bond? 
+Por. It is not so express'd: but what of 
+
+that? 
+
+*Twere good you do so much for charity. 261 
+Shy. I cannot find it; ‘tis not in the bond. 
+Por. You, merchant, have you any thing 
+
+to say? 
+Ant. But little: I am arm’d and well pre- 
+pared. 
+
+Give me your hand, Bassanio: fare you well! 
+
+Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you; 
+
+
+. For herein Fortune shows herself more kind 
+
+
+Than is her custom: it is still her use 
+To let the wretched man outlive his wealth, 
+To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow 
+An age of poverty; from which lingering 
+penance 
+OF such misery doth she cut me off. 
+Commend me to your honourable wife: 
+Tell her the process of Antonio’s end; 
+Say how I loved you, speak me fair in death; 
+And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge 
+Whether Bassanio had not once a love. 
+Repent but you that you shall lose your friend, 
+And he repents not that he pays your debt; 
+For if the Jew do cut but deep enough, 280 
+I'll pay it presently with all my heart. 
+Bass. Antonio, | am married to a wife 
+Which is as dear to me as life itself; 
+But life itself, my wife, and all the world, 
+Are not with me esteem’d above thy life: 
+I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all 
+Here to this devil, to deliver you. 
+Por. Your wife would give you little 
+thanks for that, 
+If she were by, to hear you make the offer. 
+Gra. 1 have a wife, whom, I protest, I love: 
+I would she were in heaven, so she could 29] 
+Entreat some power to change this currish Jew. 
+Ner. Tis well you offer it behind her back; 
+The wish would make else an unquiet house. 
+Shy. These be the Christian husbands. I 
+have a daughter; 
+Would any of the stock of Barrabas 
+Had been her husband rather than a Christian! 
+[Aside. 
+We trifle time: I pray thee, pursue sentence. 
+Por. A pound of that same merchant's 
+flesh is thine: 
+The court awards it, and the law doth give it. 
+Shy. Most rightful judge! 301 
+
+
+Por. And you must cut this flesh from off 
+his breast: 
+The law allows it, and the court awards it. 
+
+Shy. Most learned judge! A sentence! 
+
+Come, prepare! 
+
+Por. Tarry a little; there is something else. 
+This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood; 
+The words expressly are ‘a pound of flesh:’ 
+Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of 
+
+flesh; 
+But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed 
+One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and 
+
+
+goods 310 
+Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate 
+Unto the state of Venice. 
+Gra, O upright judge! Mark, Jew: O 
+
+
+learned judge! 
+Shy. Is that the law? 
+Por. Thyself shalt see the act: 
+For, as thou urgest justice, be assured 
+Thou shalt have justice, more than thou 
+
+
+desirest. 
+Gra. O learned judge! Mark, Jew: 2 
+learned judge! 
+
+
+Shy. I take this offer, then; pay the bond 
+
+
+thrice 
+And let the Christian go. 
+Bass. Here is the money. 
+Por. Soft! 320 
+
+
+The Jew shall have all justice; soft! no haste: 
+He shall have nothing but the penalty. 
+Gra. O Jew! an upright judge, a learned 
+judge! 
+Por. Therefore prepare thee to cut off the 
+flesh. 
+Shed thou no blood, nor cut thou less nor more 
+But just a pound of flesh: if thou cut’st more 
+Or less than a just pound, be it but so much 
+As makes it light or heavy in the substance, 
+Or the division of the twentieth part 
+Of one poor scruple, nay, if the scale do turn 
+But in the estimation of a hair, 331 
+Thou diest and all thy goods are confiscate. 
+Gra, A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew! 
+Now, infidel, I have you on the hip. 
+Por, Why doth the Jew pause? take thy 
+forfeiture. 
+Shy. Give me my principal, and let me go. 
+Bass. 1 have it ready for thee; here it is. 
+Por. He hath refused it in the open court: 
+He shall have merely justice and his bond. 339 
+Gra. A Daniel, still say I, a second Daniel! 
+I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. 
+Shy. Shall I not have barely my principal? 
+Por. Thou shalt have nothing but the for- 
+feiture, 
+To be so taken at thy peril, Jew. 
+Shy. Why, then the devil give him good 
+of it! 
+
+
+244 
+
+
+THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
+
+
+[Act IV; Se]. 
+
+
+I'll stay no longer question. 
+
+Por. Tarry, Jew: 
+The law hath yet another hold on you. 
+It is enacted in the laws of Venice, 
+
+If it be proved against an alien 
+
+That by direct or indirect attempts 
+
+He seek the life of any citizen, 
+
+The party ‘gainst the which he doth contrive 
+
+Shall seize one half his goods; the other half 
+
+Comes to the privy coffer of the state; 
+
+And the offender's life lies in the mercy 
+
+Of the duke only, ’gainst all other voice. 
+
+In which predicament, I say, thou stand’st; 
+
+For it appears, by manifest proceeding, 
+
+That indirectly and directly too 
+
+Thou hast contrived against the very life 360 
+
+Of the defendant; and thou hast incurr’d 
+
+The danger formerly by me rehearsed. 
+
+Down therefore and beg mercy of the duke. 
+Gra. Beg that thou mayst have leave to 
+
+hang thyself: 
+
+And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state, 
+
+Thou hast not left the value of a cord; 
+
+Therefore thou must be hang’d at the state's 
+
+charge. 
+Duke. That thou shalt see the difference of 
+our spirits, 
+I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it: 
+For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's; 370 
+The other half comes to the general state, 
+Which humbleness may drive unto a fine. 
+Por. Ay, for the state, not for Antonio. 
+Shy. Nay, take my life and all: pardon 
+not that: 
+‘You take my house when you do tak the prop 
+That doth sustain my house; you take my life 
+When you do take the means whereby I live. 
+Por. What mercy can you render him, 
+Antonio ? 
+Gra. A halter gratis; nothing else, for 
+God’s sake. 
+Ant. So please my lord the duke and all 
+the court 380 
+To quit the fine for one half of his goods, 
+I_am content; so he will let me have. 
+The other half in use, to render it, 
+Upon his death, unto the gentleman 
+That lately stole his daughter: 
+Two things provided more, that, for this 
+favour, 
+He presently become a Christian; 
+The other, that he do record a gift, 
+Here in the court, of all he dies possess'd, 
+Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter. 390 
+
+Duke. He shall do this, or else I do recant 
+The pardon that I late pronounced here. 
+
+for. Art thou contented, Jew? what dost 
+
+thou say? 
+
+Shy. T am content. 
+
+
+350 
+
+
+Clerk, draw a deed of gift. 
+. I pray you, give me leave to go from 
+hence; bs 
+
+I am not well: send the deed after me, 
+And I will sign it. 
+Duke. Get thee gone, but do i, 
+Gra. In christening shalt thou have two 
+godfathers: P 
+Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had 
+ten more, “i 
+To bring thee to the gallows, not the font. 400 
+[Exit Shylock. 
+Duke. Sir, | entreat you home with me to 
+dinner. 
+Por. I humbly do desire your grace of 
+pardon: 
+I must away this night toward Padua, 
+And it is meet I presently set forth. 
+Duke. I am sorry that your leisure serves 
+you not, 
+Antonio, gratify this gentleman, 
+For, in my mind, you are much bound to him. 
+[Exeunt Duke and his train. 
+Bass. Most worthy gentleman, I and my 
+friend 
+Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted 
+Of grievous penalties; in lieu whereof, 410 
+Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew, 
+We freely cope your courteous pains withal. 
+Ant. And stand indebted, over and above, 
+In love and service to you evermore. 
+Por. He is well paid that is well satished; 
+And I, delivering you, am satished 
+And therein do account myself well paid: 
+My mind was never yet more mercenary. 
+I pray you, know me when we meet again: 
+I wish you well, and so I take my leave. 420 
+Bass. Dear sir, of force I must attempt you 
+further: 
+Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute, 
+Notas a fee: grant me two things, I pray you, 
+Not to deny me, and to pardon me. 
+Por. You press me far, and therefore I 
+will yield. 
+[To Ant.] Give me your gloves, I'll wear 
+them for your sake; 
+[To Bass.] And, for your love, I'll take this 
+ring from you: 
+Do not draw back your hand; I'll take no 
+more; 
+And you in love shall not deny me this. 
+Bass, This ring, good sir, alas, it is a trifle! 
+I will not shame myself to give you this. 431] 
+Por. I will have nothing else but only this; 
+And now meth’nks I have a mind to it 
+Bass. There's more depends on this than 
+on the value. 
+The dearest ring in Venice will I give you, 
+And find it out by proclamation: 
+
+
+ia 
+ey 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. I] 
+
+
+THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
+
+
+245 
+
+
+Tv nn nn EE 
+
+
+Only for, this, I pray you, pardon me. 
+Por. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers: 
+You taught me first to beg; and now methinks 
+
+
+~ You teach me how a beggar should be answer’d. 
+
+
+Bass. Good sir, this ring was given me by 
+my wife; 44] 
+And when she put it on, she made me vow 
+That I should ne ther sell nor give nor lose it. 
+Por. That ’scuse serves many men to save 
+their gifts. 
+An if your wife be not a mad-woman, 
+And know how well I have deserved the ring, 
+She would not hold out enemy for ever, 
+For giving it to me. Well, peace be with 
+ou! [Exeunt Portia and Nerissa. 
+Ant. My Lord Bassanio, let him have the 
+ring: 
+Let his deservings and my love withal 450 
+Be valued ‘gainst your wife’s commandment. 
+Bass. Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him; 
+Give him the ring, and bring him, if thou canst, 
+Unto Antonio’s house: away! make haste. 
+[Exit Gratiano. 
+Come, you and [| will thither presently; 
+And in the morning early wll we both 
+Fly toward Belmont: come, Antonio. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. The same. A street. 
+Enter Portia and NErissa. 
+Por. Inquire the Jew’s house out, give 
+
+
+him this deed. 
+
+
+_ And let him sign it: we'll away to-night 
+
+
+And be a day before our husbands home: 
+This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo. 
+
+
+Enter GRATIANO. 
+
+
+Gra. Fair sir, you are well o’erta’en: 
+My Lord Bassanio upon more advice 
+Hath sent you here this ring, and doth entreat 
+Your company at dinner. 
+Por. That cannot be: 
+His ring I do accept most thankfully: 
+And so, I pray you, tell him: furthermore, 10 
+‘pray you, show my youth old Shylock’s house. 
+Gra. That will I do. 
+Ner. Sir, 1 would speak with you. 
+{Aside to Por.| 1'll see if I can get my. hus- 
+band’s ring, 
+Which I did make him swear to keep for ever. 
+Por. [Aside to Ner.] Thou mayst, I war- 
+rant. 
+‘We shall have old swearing 
+That they did give the rings away to men; 
+But we'll outface them, and outswear them 
+too. 
+f Aloud] Away! make haste: thou know’st 
+where I will tarry. 
+Ner. Come, good sir, will you show me to 
+this house 2 {Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene I. 
+
+
+ACT V. 
+
+
+Belmont. Avenue to Portta’s 
+house. 
+
+
+Enter Lorenzo and Jessica. 
+
+
+Lor. The moon shines bright: in such a 
+night as this, 
+
+When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees 
+
+And they did make no noise, in such a night 
+
+
+Troilus meth nks mounted the Troyan walls 
+
+
+And sigh’d his soul toward the Grecian tents, 
+Where Cressid lay that night. 
+
+Jes. In such a night 
+Did Thisbe fearfully o’ertrip the dew 
+And saw the lion’s shadow ere himself 
+And ran dismay’d away. 
+
+Lor. In such a night 
+Stood Dido with a willow in her hand 10 
+Upon the wild sea banks and waft her love 
+To come again to Carthage. 
+
+
+In such a night 
+
+
+Jes. 
+
+Medea gather’d the enchanted herbs 
+That did renew old /Eson. 
+
+Lor. In such a night 
+Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew 
+And with an unthrift love did run from Venice 
+As far as Belmont. ! 
+
+Jes. ; In such a night 
+Did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well, 
+Stealing her soul with many vows of faith 
+And ne’er a true one. 
+
+Lor. In such a night 20 
+Did pretty Jessica. like a little shrew, 
+Slander her love, and he forgave it her. 
+
+Jes. 1 would out-night you, did no body 
+
+come; 
+But, hark, I hear the footing of a man. 
+
+
+Enter STEPHANO. 
+
+
+Lor. Who comes so fast in silence of the 
+night? 
+Steph. A friend. 
+Lor. A friend! what friend? your name, J 
+pray you, friend? 
+Steph. Stephano-is my name; and [| bring 
+word 
+My mistress will before the break of day 
+Be here at Belmont: she doth stray about 30 
+By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays 
+For happy wedlock hours. 
+Lor. Who comes with her? 
+Steph. None but a holy hermit and her maid. 
+I pray you, is my master yet return’d? 
+Lor. He is not, nor we have not heard 
+from him. 
+But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica, 
+And ceremoniously let us prepare 
+Some welcome for the mistress of the house- 
+
+
+Enter LAUNCELOT. 
+
+
+. 
+
+
+246 
+
+
+Laun. Sola, sola! wo ha, ho! sola, sola! 
+
+Lor. Who calls? 
+
+Laun. Sola! did you see Master Lorenzo? 
+Master Lorenzo, sola, sola! 
+
+Lor. Leave hollaing, man: here. 
+
+Laun, Sola! where? where? 
+
+Lor. Here. 
+
+Laun. Tell him there’s a post come from 
+my master, with his horn full of good news: 
+my master will be here ere morning. [Exit. 
+
+Lor. Sweet soul, let’s in, and there expect 
+
+their coming. 
+And yet no matter: why should we go in? 50 
+My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you, 
+Within the house, your mistress is at hand; 
+And bring your music forth into the air. 
+[Exit Stephano. 
+How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this 
+bank! 
+Here will we sit and let the sounds of music 
+Creep in our eas: soft stillness and the night 
+Become the touches of sweet harmony. 
+Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven 
+Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold: 
+There’s not the smallest orb which thou be- 
+hold’st 60 
+But in his motion like an angel sings, 
+Stil guiring to the young-eyed cherubins; 
+Such harmony is in immortal souls; 
+But whilst this muddy vesture of decay 
+Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. 
+
+
+Enter Musicians. 
+
+
+Come, ho! and wake Diana with a hymn: 
+With sweetest touches pierce your mistress’ ear 
+
+
+And draw her home with music. [Music. 
+
+
+Jes. 1 am never merry when I hear sweet 
+music. 
+
+Lor. The reason is, your spirits are atten- 
+tive: 
+
+
+For do but note a wild and wanton herd, 
+
+Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, 
+
+Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing 
+loud, 
+
+Which is the hot condition of their blood; 
+
+If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, 
+
+Or any air of music touch their ears, 
+
+You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, 
+
+Their savage eyes turn’d to a modest gaze 
+
+By the sweet power of music: therefore the 
+poet 
+
+Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones 
+and floods; 80 
+
+Since nought so stockish, hard and full of rage, 
+
+But music for the time doth change his nature. 
+
+The man that hath no music in himself, 
+
+Nor is not moved with concord of sweet 
+sounds, 
+
+Is fit for-treasons, stratagems and spoils; 
+
+
+THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
+
+
+fAcr- Vy Seat 
+
+
+= 
+
+
+The motions of his spir-t are dull as night 
+And his affections dark as Erebus: 
+
+
+Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music 
+Enter Portia and NERISSA. 
+
+
+Por. That light we see is burning in my hall. 
+How far that little candle throws his beams! 90 
+So shines a good deed in a naughty world. 
+
+Ner. When the moon shone, we did not 
+
+see the candle. 
+
+Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less: 
+A substitute shines brightly as a king 
+Until a king be by, and then his state 
+Empties itself, as doth an inland brook 
+Into the main of waters. Music! hark! 
+
+Ner. It is your music, madam, of the house. 
+
+Por. Nothing is good, I see, without re- 
+
+spect: 
+Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day. 
+
+Ner. Silence bestows that virtue on it, 
+
+madam. 101 
+Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly as 
+the lark 
+When neither is attended, and I think 
+The nightingale, if she should sing by day, 
+When every goose is cackling, would be 
+thought 
+No better a musician than the wren. 
+How many things by season season’d are 
+To their right praise and true perfection! 
+Peace, ho! the moon sleeps with Endymion 
+And would not be awaked. [Music ceases. | 
+
+Lor. That is the voice, 110 
+Or I am much deceived, of Portia. 
+
+Por. He knowgmeas the blind man knows 
+
+
+the cuckoo, 
+By the bad voice. 
+Lor. Dear lady, welcome home. 
+
+
+Por. We have been praying for our hus- 
+Lands’ healths, 
+Which speed, we hope, the better for our words, 
+Are they return’d? 
+Lor. Madam, they are not yet; 
+But there is come a messenger before, 
+To signify their coming. 
+
+Por. Go in, Nerissa; 
+Give order to my servants that they take 
+No note at all of our being absent hence; 120 
+Nor you, Lorenzo; Jessica, nor you. 
+
+[A tucket sounds. 
+
+Lor. Your husband is at hand; I hear his 
+
+trumpet: 
+We are no tell-tales, madam; fear you not. 
+
+Por. This night methinks is but the day- 
+
+l'ght sick; 
+It looks a little paler: ‘tis a day, 
+Such as the day is when the sun is hid. 
+
+
+Enter Bassanio, ANTONIO, GRATIANO, and 
+their followers. 
+
+
+a ge 
+
+
+_ Act V, Se. I] 
+
+
+i ae —_ 
+= t 
+
+
+THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
+
+
+247 
+
+
+SS 
+
+
+' Bass. We should hold day with the An- 
+
+tipodes, 
+
+If you would walk in absence of the sun. 
+Por. Let me give light, but let me not 
+
+be light; 
+
+For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, 
+
+And never be Bassanio so for me: 
+
+But God sort all! You are welcome home, 
+
+my lord. 
+Bass. 1 thank you, madam. Give welcome 
+to my friend. 
+
+This is the man, this is Antonio, 
+
+To whom I am so infinitely bound. 
+
+Por. You should in all sense be much 
+bound to him, 
+
+For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. 
+Ant. No more than I am well acquitted of. 
+Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house: 
+
+It must appear in other ways than words, 140. 
+
+Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy. 
+Gra. [To Ner.] By yonder moon I swear 
+
+you do me wrong; 
+
+{n faith, I gave it to the judge’s clerk: 
+
+Would he were gelt that had it, for my part, 
+
+Since you do take it, love, so much at heart. 
+Por. A quarrel, ho, already! what's the 
+
+matter > 
+Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring 
+That she did give me, whose posy was 
+For all the world like cutler’s poetry 
+
+
+‘Upon a knife, ‘Love me, and leave me not.’ 
+
+
+Ner. What talk you of the posy or the value ? 
+You swore to me, when I did give it you, 
+That you would wear it till your hour of death 
+And that it should lie with you in your grave: 
+Though not for me, yet for your vehement 
+oaths, 
+
+You should have been respective and have 
+kept it. 
+
+Gave it a judge's clerk! no, God's my judge, 
+
+The clerk will ne’er wear hair on’s face that 
+had it. e 
+
+Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man. 
+
+Ner. Ay, if a woman live to be a man. 160 
+
+Gra. Now, by this hand, | gave it to a 
+
+youth, 
+A kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy, : 
+No higher than thyself, the judge’s clerk, 
+A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee: 
+I could not for my heart deny it him. 
+Por. You were to blame, I must be plain 
+with you, 
+To part so slightly with your wife’s first gift; 
+A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger 
+And so riveted with faith unto your flesh. 
+I gave my love a ring and made him swear 170 
+Never to part with it; and here he stands; 
+I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it 
+Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth 
+
+
+That the world masters. Now, in faith, 
+Gratiano, 
+You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief: 
+An ‘twere to me, I should be mad at it. 
+Bass. [Aside] Why, I were best to cut my 
+left hand off 
+And swear I lost the ring defending it. 
+Gra. My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away 
+Unto the judge that bege’d it and indeed 180 
+Deserved it too; and then the boy, his clerk, 
+That took some pains in writing, he begg’d 
+mine; 
+And neither man nor master would take aught 
+But the two rings. 
+Por. What ring gave you, my lord? 
+Not that, I hope, which you received of me. 
+Bass. \£ I could add a lie unto a fault, 
+I would deny it; but you see my finger 
+Hath not the ring upon it; it is gone. 
+Por. Even so void is your false heart of 
+truth. 
+By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed 190 
+Until I see the ring. 
+
+
+Ner. Nor I in yours 
+Till I again see mine. 
+Bass. Sweet Portia, 
+
+
+If you did know to whom I gave the ring, 
+If you did know for whom I gave the ring 
+And would conceive for what I gave the ring 
+And how unwillingly I left the ring, 
+When nought would be accepted but the ring, 
+You would abate the strength of your dis- 
+
+pleasure. 
+
+Por. If you had known the virtue of the 
+
+ring, 
+Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, 200 
+Or your own honour to contain the ring, 
+You would not then have parted with the 
+ring. 
+
+
+“What man is there so much unreasonable, 
+
+
+If you had pleased to have defended it 
+
+With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty 
+
+To urge the thing held as a ceremony ? 
+
+Nerissa teaches me what to believe: 
+
+I'll die for’t but some woman had the ring. 
+
+Bass. No, by my honour, madam, by my 
+
+soul, 
+
+No woman had it, but a civil doctor, 210 
+
+Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me 
+
+And begg'd the ring; the which I did deny him 
+
+And suffer'd him to go displeased away; 
+
+Even he that did uphold the very life 
+
+Of my dear friend. What should I say, 
+sweet lady? 
+
+I was enforced to send it after him; 
+
+I was beset with shame and courtesy; 
+
+My honour would not let ingratitude 
+
+So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady; 
+
+For, by these blessed candles of the night, 220 
+
+
+248° 
+
+
+Had you been there, | think you would have 
+bege'd 
+
+The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. 
+
+Por. Let not that doctor e’er come near 
+
+my house: 
+
+Since he hath got the jewel that I loved, 
+
+And that which you did swear to keep for me, 
+
+I will become as liberal as you; 
+
+Ill not deny him any thing I have, 
+
+No, not my body nor my husband’s bed: 
+
+Know him I shall, I am well sure of it: 
+
+Lie not a night from home; watch me like 
+
+Argus: 230 
+If you do not, if I be left alone, 
+
+Now, by mine honour, which is yet mine 
+own, 
+I'll have that doctor for my bedfellow. 
+Ner. And | his clerk; therefore be well 
+advised 
+How you do leave me to mine own pro- 
+tection. 
+Gra. Well, do you so: let not me take 
+him, then; 
+For if I do, I'll mar the young clerk's pen. 
+
+Ant, | am the unhappy subject of these 
+
+quarrels. 
+
+Por. Sir, grieve not you; you are wel- 
+
+come notwithstanding. 
+
+Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforced 
+
+wrong; 240 
+And, in the hearing of these many friends, 
+I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, 
+Wherein I see myself— 
+
+Por. Mark you but that! 
+In both my eyes he doubly sees himself; 
+
+In each eye, one: swear by your double self, 
+And there’s an oath of credit. 
+
+Bass. Nay, but hear me: 
+Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear 
+I never more will break an oath with thee. 
+
+Ant. | once d d lend my body for his wealth; 
+Which, but for him that had your husband's 
+
+ring, 250 
+Had quite miscarried: I dare be bound again, 
+My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord 
+Will never more break faith advisedly. 
+
+Por. -Then you shall be his surety. Give 
+
+him this 
+And bid him keep it better than the other. 
+
+Ant. Here, Lord Bassanio; swear to keep 
+
+this ring. 
+
+Bass. By heaven, it is the same I gave the 
+
+doctor! 
+
+Por. | had it of him: pardon me, Bassanio; 
+For, by this ring, the doctor lay with me. 259 
+
+Ner. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano; 
+For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk, 
+Tn lien of this last night did lie with me. 
+
+
+THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
+
+
+en ea, gt) OE, a Oe Reng vey, 
+ata Sipe ads oat 
+
+
+{Acr V, Sc, 1 
+
+
+Gra. Why, this is like the mending of 
+highways 
+In summer, where the ways are fair enough: 
+What, are we cuckolds ere we have deserved 
+it? 
+Por. Speak not so grossly. You are all 
+amazed: 
+Here is a letter; read it at your leisure; 
+It comes from Padua, from Bellario: 
+There you shall find that Portia was the doctor, 
+Nerissa there her clerk: Lorenzo here 270 
+Shall witness I set forth as soon as you 
+And even but now return’d; I have not yet 
+Enter’d my house. Antonio, you are welcome; 
+And I have better news in store for you 
+Than you expect: unseal this letter soon; 
+There you shall find three of your argosies 
+Are richly come to harbour suddenly: 
+
+
+x 
+
+
+You shall not know by what strange accident © 
+
+
+I chanced on this letter. 
+Ant. I am dumb. 
+Bass. Were you the doctor and I knew 
+you not? 280 
+Gra. Were you the clerk that is to make 
+me cuckald? 
+Ner, Ay, but the clerk that never means to 
+do it, 
+Unless he live until he be a man. 
+Bass. Sweet doctor, you shall be my bed- 
+fellow: 
+When I am absent, then lie with my wife. 
+Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life 
+and living; 
+For here I read for certain that my ships 
+Are safely come to road. 
+Por. . How now, Lorenzo! 
+My clerk hath some good comforts too for you, 
+Ner. Ay, and 1’ll give them him without 
+a fee. 290 
+There do I give to you and -Jessica, 
+From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, 
+After his deaths of all he dies possess’d of. 
+Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the 
+way Fi 
+Of starved people. 
+Por. It is almost morning. 
+And yet | am sure you are not satisfied 
+Of these events at full. Let us go in; 
+And charge us there upon infer’gatories, 
+And we will answer all things faithfully. 
+Gra. Let it be so: the first inter’gatory 300 
+That my Nerissa shall be sworn on is, 
+Whether till the next night she had rather stay 
+Or go to bed now, being two hours to day: 
+But were ithe day come, | should wish it dark, 
+That I were couching with the doctor's clerk. 
+Well, while I live I'll fear no other thing. 
+
+
+So sore as keeping safe Nerissa’s ring. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+AS YOU 
+
+
+DRAMATIS 
+
+
+Duke, living in banishment. 
+FREDERICK, his brother, and usurper of his 
+dominions. 3 
+
+
+- Jaques, t lords attending on the banished 
+AMIENS, duke. 
+
+_ Le Beau, a courtier attending upon Fred- 
+
+erick. 
+Cuarces, wrestler to Frederick. 
+
+@ ~ OLIVER; f 
+Jaques, sons of Sir Rowland de Boys. 
+ORLANDO, 
+
+_ ADAM, 
+
+
+= Dennis, { servants to Oliver. 
+
+
+ToucHSTONE, a clown. 
+
+
+AGT I: 
+
+
+Scene I. Orchard of OLiver’s house, 
+Enter Ortanpo and Apa. 
+
+
+Or As I remember, Adam, it was upon 
+this fashion; bequeathed me by will but poor 
+a thousand crowns, and, as thou  sayest, 
+charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed 
+me well: and there begins my sadness. My 
+brother Jaques he keeps at school, and re- 
+port speaks goldenly of his profit: for my 
+part, he keeps me rustically at home, or, to 
+speak more properly, stays me here at home 
+__unkept; for call you that keeping for a gen- 
+_ tleman of my birth, that differs not from the 
+stalling of an ox? His horses are bred bet- 
+o ter; for, besides that they are fair with their 
+feeding, they are taught their manage, and 
+to that end riders dearly hired: but I, his 
+brother, gain nothing under him but growth; 
+for the which his animals on his dung-hills 
+are as much bound to him as I. Besides this 
+nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the 
+something that nature gave me his counte- 
+nance seems to take from me: he lets me feed 
+with his hinds, bars me the place of a brother, 
+and, as much as in him lies, mines my gen- 
+tility with my education. This is it, Adam, 
+that grieves me; and the spirit of my father, 
+which I think is within me, begins to mutiny 
+against this servitude: I will no longer endure 
+it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to 
+avoid it. 
+
+, Adam. 
+brother. 
+
+
+‘ 
+‘ 
+
+
+‘ 
+. 
+2 
+a 
+* 
+
+
+Yonder comes my master, your 
+
+
+LIKE IT 
+
+
+PERSON/E 
+
+
+Sir Outver MarTEXT, a vicar. 
+Corin, ) 
+SyiGe shepherds. 
+Wituiam, a country fellow, in love with 
+Audrey. 
+A. person representing Hymen. 
+Rosa.inD, daughter to the banished duke. 
+Cea, daughter to Frederick. 
+PHEBE, a shepherdess. 
+AupREY, a country wench. 
+Lords, pages, and attendants, &c. 
+
+
+ScENE: Oliver’s house; Duke Frederick's 
+court; and the Forest of Arden. 
+
+
+Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear 
+how he will shake me up. 30 
+
+
+Enter OLIVER. 
+
+
+Oli. Now, sir! what make you here? 
+
+Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make 
+any thing. 
+
+Oli. What mar you then, sir? 
+
+Orl. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar 
+that which God made, a poor unworthy 
+brother of yours, with idleness. 
+
+Oli. Marry, sir, be better employed, and 
+be naught awhile. 39 
+
+Orl. Shall I keep your hogs and eat husks 
+with them? What prodigal portion have I 
+spent, that I should come to such penury? 
+
+Oli. Know you where you are, sir? 
+
+Orl. O, sir, very well: here in your or- 
+chard. 
+
+Oli. Know you before whom, sir? 
+
+Orl. Ay, better than him I am before 
+knows me. I know you are my_ eldest 
+brother; and, in the gentle condition of blood, 
+you should so know me. The courtesy of 
+nations allows you my better, in that you are 
+the first-born; but the same tradition takes not 
+away my blood, were there twenty brothers 
+betwixt us: I have as much of my father m 
+me as you; albeit, I confess, your coming 
+before me is nearer to his reverence. 
+
+Oli. What, boy! 
+
+Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are 
+too young in this. 
+
+Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain? 
+| Orl. I am no villain; I am the youngest 
+
+
+2 249 
+
+
+250 AS YOU 
+
+
+son of Sir Rowland de Boys; he was my 
+father, and he is thrice a villain that says 
+such a father begot villains, Wert thou not 
+my brother, I would not take this hand from 
+thy throat till this other had pulled out thy 
+tongue for saying so: thou hast railed on 
+thyself, 
+
+Adam. Sweet masters, be patient: for your 
+father’s remembrance, be at accord. 
+
+Oli. Let me go, I say. 
+
+Orl. I will not, till I please: you shall 
+hear me. My father charged you in his will 
+to give me good education: you have trained 
+me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from 
+me all gentleman-like qualities. The spirit of 
+my father grows strong in me, and I will no 
+longer endure it: therefore allow me such ex- 
+ercises as may become a gentleman, or give 
+me the poor allottery my father left me by 
+testament; with that I will go buy my fortunes. 
+
+Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when 
+that is spent? Well, sir, get you in: I will 
+not long be troubled with you; you shall have 
+some part of your will: I pray you, leave me. 
+
+Orl. I will no further offend you than be- 
+comes me for my good, 
+
+Oli. Get you with him, you old dog. 
+
+Adam. Is ‘old dog’ my reward? Most true, 
+I have lost my teeth in your service. God be 
+with my old master! he would not have spoke 
+such a word, [Exeunt Orlando and Adam. 
+
+Oli. Is it even so? begin you to grow upon 
+me? I will physic your rankness, and yet 
+give no thousand crowns neither. Holla, Dennis. 
+
+
+Enter DENNIS. 
+
+
+Den. Calls your worship? 
+
+Oli. Was not Charles, the duke’s wrestler, 
+here to speak with me? 
+
+Den. So please you, he is here at the door 
+and importunes access to you, 
+
+Oli. Call him in. [Exit Dennis.] "Twill be 
+
+
+a good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is. 
+Enter CHARLES. 
+
+
+Cha. Good morrow to your worship. 100 
+
+Oli. Good Monsieur Charles, what's the 
+new news at the new court? 
+
+Cha. There’s no news at the court, sir, but 
+the old news: that is, the old duke is banished 
+by his younger brother the new duke; and 
+three or four loving lords have put themselves 
+into voluntary exile with him, whose lands 
+and revenues enrich the new duke; therefore 
+he gives them good leave to wander. 
+
+Oli. Can you tell if Rosalind, the duke’s 
+daughter, be banished with her father? 111 
+
+Cha. O, no; for the duke’s daughter, her 
+cousin, so loves her, being ever from their 
+cradles bred together, that she would have 
+
+
+LIKE IT [Act I, Sc. I 
+
+
+followed her exile, or have died to stay be- 
+hind her. She is at the court, and no less 
+beloved of her uncle than his own daughter; 
+and never two ladies loved as they do. 
+
+Oli, Where will the old duke live? 119 
+
+Cha. They say he is already in the forest 
+of Arden, and a many merry men with him; 
+and there they live like the old Robin Hood 
+of England: they say many young gentlemen 
+flock to him every day, and fleet the time 
+carelessly, as they did in the golden world, 
+
+Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before 
+the new duke? 
+
+Cha. Marry, do I, sir; and I came to 
+acquaint you with a matter. I am given, 
+sir, secretly to understand that your younger 
+brother Orlando hath a disposition to come in 
+disguised against me to try a fall. To-mor- 
+row, sir, I wrestle for my credit; and he 
+that escapes me without some broken limb 
+shall acquit him well. Your brother is but 
+young and tender; and, for your love, I 
+would be loath to foil him, as I must, for my 
+own honour, if he come in: therefore, out of 
+my love to you, I came hither to acquaint 
+you withal, that either you might stay him 
+from his intendment or brook such disgrace 
+
+
+well as he shall run into, in that it is a thing. 
+
+
+of his own search and altogether against 
+my will. 
+
+Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to 
+me, which thou shalt find I will most kindly 
+requite. I had myself notice of my brother's 
+purpose herein and have by underhand means 
+laboured to dissuade him from it, but he is 
+resolute. I'll tell thee, Charles: it is the 
+stubbornest young fellow of France, full of 
+ambition, an envious emulator of every man’s 
+good parts, a secret and villanous contriver 
+against me his natural brother: therefore use 
+thy discretion; I had as lief thou didst break 
+his neck as his finger. And thou wert best 
+look to"t; for if thou dost him any slight dis- 
+grace or if he do not mightily grace himself 
+on thee, he will practise against thee by poi- 
+son, entrap thee by some treacherous device 
+and never leave thee till he hath ta’en thy 
+life by some indirect means or other; for, I 
+assure thee, and almost with tears I speak it, 
+there is not one so young and so villanous this 
+day living. I speak but brotherly of him; 
+but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, 
+I must blush and weep and thou must look 
+pale and wonder. 
+
+Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to 
+you. If he come to-morroy, I "ll give him his 
+payment: if ever he go alone again, I ‘Il never 
+wrestle for prize more: and so God keep your 
+worship! ‘ 
+
+
+oe 
+
+
+ST ean teeth aa * ae. 
+Act I, Se. I] AS YOU LIKE IT 251 
+Oli. Farewell, good Charles. [Exii|she makes honest she makes very ill- 
+
+
+~Charles.| Now will I stir this gamester: I 
+hope I shall see an end of him; for my soul, 
+yet I know not why, hates nothing more than 
+he. Yet he’s gentle, never schooled and yet 
+learned, full of noble device, of all sorts 
+enchantingly beloved, and indeed so much in 
+the heart of the world, and especially of my 
+own people, who best know him, that I am 
+altogether misprised: but it shall not be so 
+long; this wrestler shall clear all: nothing re- 
+mains but that I kindle the boy thither; which 
+now I'll go about. Exit. 
+
+
+Scene IJ. Lawn before the DuKe's palace. 
+Enter CELIA and ROosALIND. 
+
+
+Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, 
+be> merry. 
+
+Ros. Dear Celia, 1 show more mirth than 
+I am mistress of; and would you yet I were 
+merrier? Unless you could teach me to for- 
+_ get a banished father, you must not learn me 
+how to remember any extraordinary pleasure. 
+
+Cel. Herein I see thou lovest me not with 
+the full weight that I love thee. If my uncle, 
+thy banished father, had banished thy uncle, 
+the duke my father, so thou hadst been still 
+with me, I could have taught my love to take 
+thy father for mine: so wouldst thou, if the 
+truth of thy love to me were so righteously 
+tempered as mine is to thee. 
+
+Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of 
+my estate, to rejoice in yours, 
+
+Cel. You know my father hath no child 
+but I, nor none is like to have: and, truly, 
+when he dies, thou shalt be his heir, for what 
+he hath taken away from thy father perforce, 
+I will render thee again in affection; by mine 
+honour, I will; and when I break that oath, 
+let me turn monster: therefore, my sweet 
+Rose, my dear Rose, be merry. 
+
+Ros. From henceforth I will, coz, and de- 
+vise sports. Let me see; what think you of 
+falling in love? 
+
+Cel. Marry, I prithee, do, to make sport 
+withal: but love no man in good earnest; nor 
+_no further in sport neither than with safety 
+of a pure blush thou mayst in honour come 
+off again. 
+
+Ros. What shall be our sport, then? 
+
+Cel. Let us sit and mock the good house- 
+wife Fortune from her wheel, that her gifts 
+may henceforth be bestowed equally. 
+
+Ros. I would we could do so, for her bene- 
+fits are mightily misplaced, and the bountiful 
+blind woman doth most mistake in her gifts 
+to women. 
+
+Cel. "Tis true; for those that she makes 
+fair she scarce makes honest, and those that 
+
+
+favouredly. 
+
+Ros. Nay, now thou goest from Fortune's 
+office to Nature's: Fortune reigns in gifts of 
+the world, not in the lineaments of Nature. 
+
+
+Enter ToucHsTONE. 
+
+
+Cel. No? when Nature hath made a fair 
+creature, may she not by Fortune fall into 
+the fire? That Nature hath given us wit to 
+flout at Fortune, hath not Fortune sent in 
+this fool to cut off the argument? 50 
+
+Ros. Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for 
+Nature, when Fortune makes Nature’s natural 
+the cutter-off of Nature's wit. 
+
+Cel. Peradventure this is not Fortune’s 
+work neither, but Nature's; who perceiveth 
+our natural wits too dull to reason of such 
+goddesses and hath sent this natural for our 
+whetstone; for always the dulness of the fool 
+is the whetstoné of the wits. How now, wit! 
+whither wander you? 
+
+Touch. Mistress, you must come away to 
+your father. 6] 
+Cel. Were you made the messenger? 
+
+Touch. No, by mine honour, but I was bid 
+to come for you. 
+
+Ros. Where learned you that oath, fool? 
+
+Touch. Of a certain knight that swore by 
+his honour they were good pancakes and 
+swere by his honour the mustard was naught: 
+now I'll stand to it, the pancakes were naught 
+and the mustard was good, and yet was not 
+the knight forsworn. 7\ 
+
+Cel. How prove you that, in the great 
+heap of your knowledge? 
+
+Ros. Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wis- 
+dom. 
+
+Touch. Stand you both forth now: stroke 
+your chins, and swear by your beards that 1 
+am a knave. 
+
+Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou 
+art. 79 
+Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then 
+I were; but if you swear by that that is not, 
+you are not forsworn: no more was. this 
+knight, swearing by his honour, for he never 
+had any; or if he had, he had sworn it away 
+before ever he saw those pancakes or that 
+mustard. 
+
+Cel. Prithee, who is’t that thou meanest? 
+
+Touch. One that old Frederick, your 
+father, loves. 
+
+Cel. My father’s love is enough to honour 
+him: enough! speak no more of him: you ‘Il 
+be whipped for taxation one of these days. 91 
+
+Touch. The more pity, that fools may not 
+speak wisely what wise men do foolishly. 
+
+Cel. By my troth, thou sayest true; for 
+
+
+252 AS YOU 
+
+
+Se 
+
+
+LIKE IT [Acr I, Sc. I] 
+
+
+since the little wit that fools have was silenced, 
+
+the little foolery that wise men have makes a 
+
+great show. Here comes Monsieur Le Beau. 
+Ros. With his mouth full of news. 
+
+Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons 
+feed their young. es 100 
+Ros. Then shall we be news-crammed. 
+
+Cel. All the better; we shall be the more 
+
+
+marketable. 
+Enter LE Brau. 
+
+
+Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau: what's the 
+news > 
+
+Le Beau. Fair princess, you have lost 
+much good sport. 
+
+Cel. Sport! of what colour? 
+
+Le Beau. What colour, 
+shall I answer you? 
+
+Ros. As wit and fortune will. 
+
+Touch. Or as the Destinies decree. 
+
+Cel. Well said: that was laid on with a 
+trowel. 
+
+Touch. Nay, if I keep not my rank,— 
+
+Ros. Thou losest thy old smell. 
+
+Le Beau. You amaze me, ladies: I would 
+have told you of good wrestling, which you 
+have lost the sight of. 
+
+Ros. Yet tell us the manner of the wrest- 
+ling. 
+
+Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning; 
+and, if it please your ladyships, you may see 
+the end; for the best is yet to do; and here, 
+where you are, they are coming to perform it. 
+
+Cel. Well, the beginning, that is dead and 
+buried. 
+
+Le Beau. There comes an old man and his 
+three sons,— 
+
+Cel. I could match this beginning with an 
+old tale. 
+
+Le Beau. Three proper young men, of ex- 
+cellent growth and presence. 130 
+
+Ros. With bills on their necks, “Be it 
+known unto all men by these presents.’ 
+
+Le Beau. The eldest of the three wrestled 
+with Charles, the duke’s wrestler; which 
+Charles in a moment threw him and broke 
+three of his ribs, that there is little hope of 
+life in him: so he served the second, and so 
+the third. Yonder they lie; the poor old 
+man, their father, making such pitiful dole 
+over them that all the beholders take his par! 
+with weeping. 140 
+
+Ros. Alas! 
+
+Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, 
+that the ladies have lost? 
+
+Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of. 
+
+Touch. Thus men may grow wiser every 
+day: it is the first time that ever I heard 
+breaking of ribs was sport for ladies. 
+
+
+how 
+
+
+110 
+
+
+madam! 
+
+
+Cel. Or I, I promise thee. 
+
+Ros. But is there any else longs to see this 
+broken music in his sides? is there yet an- 
+other dotes upon rib-breaking>? Shall we see 
+this wrestling, cousin? 
+
+
+Le Beau. You must, if you stay here; for 
+
+
+here is the place appointed for the wrestling, 
+and they are ready to perform it. 
+
+Cel. Yonder, sure, they are coming: let us 
+now stay and see it, 
+
+
+Flourish. Enter Duke FREDERICK, Lords, 
+Orvanpo, CHaRLES, and Attendants. 
+
+
+Duke F. Come on: since the youth will 
+not be entreated, his own peril on his forward» 
+Ness. 
+
+Ros. Is yonder the man? 160 
+
+Le Beau. Even he, madam. 
+
+Cel. Alas, he is too young! yet he looks 
+successfully. 
+
+Duke F. How now, daughter and cousin ! 
+are you crept hither to see the wrestling ? 
+
+Ros. Ay, my liege, so please you give us 
+leave, 
+
+Duke F. You will take little delight in it, I 
+can tell you ; there is such odds in the man. 
+In pity of the challenger’s youth I would fain 
+dissuade him, but he will not be entreated. 
+Speak to him, ladies; see if you can move him. 
+
+Cel, Call him hither, good Monsieur Le 
+Beau. 
+
+Duke. F. Do so: I'll not be by. 
+
+Le Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the 
+princesses cail for you. 
+
+Orl. 1 attend them with all respect and duty. 
+
+Ros. Young man, have you challenged 
+Charles the wrestler ? 179 
+
+Orl. No, fair princess ; he is the general 
+challenger: I come but in, as others do, to 
+try with him the strength of my youth. 
+
+Cel. Young gentleman, your spirits are too 
+bold for your years. You have seen cruel 
+proof of this man’s strength : if you saw your- 
+self with your eyes or knew yourself with your 
+judgement, the fear of your adventure would 
+counsel you to a more equal enterprise. We 
+pray you, for your own sake, to embrace your 
+own safety and give over zhis attempt. 190 
+
+Ros. Do, young sir ; your reputation shall 
+not therefore be misprised : we will make it 
+our suit to the duke that the wrestling might 
+not go forward. 
+
+Orl. 1 beseech you, punish me not with 
+your hard thoughts ; wherein I confess me 
+much guilty, to deny so fair and excellent 
+ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes and 
+gentle wishes go with me to my trial : wherein 
+if I be foiled, there is but one shamed that was 
+never gracious ; if killed, but one dead that is 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+a 
+} 
+
+
+Act I, Sc. I] 
+
+
+_ willing to be so: I shall do my friends no 
+wrong, for I have none to lament me, the world 
+
+
+no injury, for in it I have nothing ; only in 
+the world I fill up a place, which may be 
+
+
+better supplied when I have made it empty. 
+
+Ros. The little strength that I have, I 
+would it were with you. 
+
+Cel. And mine, to eke out hers. 
+
+Ros, Fare you well : pray heaven I be de- 
+ceived in you ! 210 
+Cel. Your heart’s desires be with you ! 
+
+Cha. Come, where is this young gallant 
+that is so desirous to lie with his mother earth ? 
+
+Orl. Ready, sir ; but his will hath in it a 
+more modest working. 
+
+Duke F. You shall try but one fall. 
+
+Cha. No, I warrant your grace, you shall 
+not entreat him to a second, that have so 
+mightily persuaded him from a first. 219 
+
+Orl. An you mean to mock me after, you 
+should not have mocked me before : but come 
+your ways. 
+
+Ros. Now Hercules be thy speed, young 
+man ! 
+
+Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the 
+strong fellow by the leg, [They wresile. 
+
+Ros. O excellent young man ! 
+
+Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye. I 
+can tell who should down, 
+
+[Shout. Charles is thrown. 
+
+Duke F. No more, no more. 
+
+Orl. Yes, I beseech your grace: 
+yet well breathed. 
+
+Duke F. How dost thou, Charles > 
+
+Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord. 
+
+Duke F. Bear him away. What is thy 
+
+name, young man ? 
+
+Orl. Orlando, my liege ; the youngest son 
+of Sir Rowland de Boys. 
+
+Duke F. 1 would thou hadst been son to 
+
+_ some man else : 
+The world esteem’d thy father honourable, 
+But I did find him still mine enemy : 
+Thou shouldst have better pleased me with 
+this deed, 
+Hadst thou descended from another house. 240 
+But fare thee well ; thou art a gallant youth : 
+
+
+I am not 
+
+
+230 
+
+
+_ I would thou hadst told me of another father. 
+
+
+[Exeunt Duke Fred., train, and Le Beau. 
+
+
+Cel. Were 1 my father, coz, would I do 
+’ this ? 
+_ Orl. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland’s 
+son, 
+Piety oungest son ; and would not change that 
+calling, 
+
+
+To be adopted heir to Frederick. 
+“Ros. My father loved Sir Rowland as his 
+soul, 
+And all the world was of my father’s mind : 
+
+
+AS YOU LIKE IT 
+
+
+253 
+
+
+Had I before known this young man his son, 
+I should have given him tears unto entreaties, 
+Ere he should thus have ventured. 
+Cel. Gentle cousin, 
+Let us go thank him and encourage him : 
+My father’s rough and envious disposition 
+Sticks me at heart. Sir, you have well de- 
+served 
+If you do keep your promises in love 
+But justly, as you have exceeded all promise, 
+Your mistress shall be happy. 
+Ros. Gentleman, 
+[Giving him a chain from her neck. 
+Wear this for me, one out of suits with fortune, 
+That could give more, but that her hand lacks 
+means. 
+Shall we go, coz ? 
+
+
+Cel. Ay. Fare you well, fair gentleman. 
+Orl. Can I not say, I thank you? My 
+better parts 261 
+
+
+are all thrown down, and that which here 
+stands up 
+Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block. 
+Ros. He calls us back: my pride fell with 
+my fortunes ; 
+I ‘ll ask him what he would. Did you call, sir? 
+Sir, you have wrestled well and overthrown 
+More than your enemies. 
+Cel. Will you go, coz > 
+Ros. Have with you. Fare you well. 
+[Exeunt Rosalind and Celia. 
+Orl. What passion hangs these weights 
+upon my tongue > 
+I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference. 
+O poor Orlando, thou art overthrown! 271 
+Or Charles or something weaker masters thee. 
+Re-enier Le Brau. 
+Le Beau. Good sir, I do in friendship 
+counsel you 
+To leave this place. Albeit you have deserved 
+High commendation, true applause and love, 
+Yet such is now the duke’s condition 
+That he misconstrues all that you have done. 
+The duke is humorous : what he is indeed, 
+Mote suits you to conceive than I to speak of. 
+Orl. I thank you, sir : and, pray you, tell 
+me this ; 280 
+Which of the two was daughter of the duke 
+That here was at the wrestling ? 
+Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge 
+by manners ; 
+But yet indeed the lesser is his daughter : 
+The other is daughter to the banish’d duke, 
+And here detain’d by her usurping uncle, 
+To keep his daughter company ; whose loves 
+Ave dearer than the natural bond of sisters. 
+But I can tell you that of late this duke 
+Hath ta’en displeasure ‘gainst his gentle niece, 
+Grounded upon no other argument 291 
+
+
+254 
+
+
+AS YOU 
+
+
+LIKE IT [Acr I, Sc. Ill 
+
+
+But that the people praise her for her virtues 
+And pity her for her good father’s sake ; 
+And, on my life, his malice ‘gainst the lady 
+Will suddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well : 
+Hereafter, in a better world than this, 
+I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. 
+Orl. I rest much bounden to you : fare 
+you well. [Exit Le Beau. 
+Thus must I from the smoke into the smother ; 
+From tyrant duke unto a tyrant brother : 300 
+But heavenly Rosalind ! [Exit. 
+
+
+Scene III. A room in the palace. 
+Enter CELIA and ROSALIND. 
+Cel. Why, cousin ! why, Rosalind | Cupid 
+
+
+have mercy ! not a word ? 
+
+Ros. Not one to throw at a dog. 
+
+Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be 
+cast away upon curs ; throw some of them at 
+me ; come, lame me with reasons. 
+
+Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up ; 
+when the one should be lamed with reasons 
+and the other mad without any. 
+
+Cel, But is all this for your father? 10 
+
+Ros. No, some of it is for my child’s father. 
+O, how full of briers is this working-day 
+world ! 
+
+Cel. They are but burs, cousin, thrown 
+upon thee in holiday foolery: if we walk not 
+in the trodden paths, our very petiicoats will 
+catch them. 
+
+Ros. I could shake them off my coat : these 
+burs are in my heart. 
+
+Cel. Hem them away. 
+
+Ros. I would try, if I could cry ‘hem’ 
+and have him. 
+
+Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections, 
+
+Ros. O, they take the part of a better 
+wrestler than mvself ! 
+
+Cel. O, a good wish upon you! you will 
+try in time, in despite of a fall. But, turning 
+these jests out of service, let us talk in good 
+earnest: is it possible, on such a sudden, you 
+should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir 
+Rowland’s youngest son ? 
+
+Ros. The duke my father loved his father 
+dearly. 31 
+Cel. Doth it therefore ensue that you 
+should love his son dearly? By this kind of 
+chase, I should hate him, for my father hated 
+his father dearly ; yet I hate not Orlando. 
+
+Ros. No, faith, hate him not, for my sake. 
+
+Cel. Why should I not? doth he not de- 
+serve well ? 
+
+Ros. Let me love him for that, and do you 
+love him because I do. Look, here comes the 
+duke. 4| 
+
+Cel. With his eyes full of anger. 
+
+
+Enter Duke FREDERICK, with Lords. 
+
+Duke F. Mistress, dispatch you with your 
+
+safest haste 
+And get you’ from our court. 
+
+Ros. Me, uncle ? 
+
+Duke F. You, cousin : 
+Within these ten days if that thou be’st found 
+So near our public court as twenty miles, 
+Thou diest for it. 
+
+Ros. I do beseech your grace, 
+
+Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with 
+me : 
+
+If with myself I hold intelligence 
+
+Or have acquaintance with mine own desires, 
+
+If that I do not dream or be not frantic,— 
+
+As I do trust I am not—then, dear uncle, 
+
+Never so much as in a thought unborn 
+
+Did I offend your highness. 
+
+Duke F. Thus do all traitors : 
+If their purgation did consist in words, 
+
+They are as innocent as grace itself : 
+Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not. 
+
+Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a 
+
+traitor : 
+Tell me whereon the likelihood depends. 
+
+Duke F. Thou art thy father’s daughter ; 
+
+there’s enough. 60 
+Ros. So was I when your highness took 
+his dukedom ; 
+So was I when your highness banish’d him : 
+Treason is not inherited, my lord ; 
+Or, if we did derive it from our friends, 
+What's that to me ? my father was no traitor : 
+Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much 
+To think my peverty is treacherous. 
+Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak. 
+Duke F. Ay, Celia; we stay'd her for 
+your sake, 
+Else had she with her father ranged along, 70 
+
+Cel, I did not then entreat to have her stay ; 
+It was your pleasure and your own remorse : 
+
+I was too young that time to value her ; 
+
+But now I know her : if she be a traitor, 
+
+Why so am I ; we still have slept together, 
+
+Rose at an instant, learn’d, play'd, eat together, 
+
+And wheresoe’er we went, like Juno’s swans, 
+
+Still we went coupled and inseparable. 
+
+Duke F. She is too subtle for thee ; and . 
+
+her smoothness, 
+
+Her very silence and her patience 
+
+Speak to the people, and they pity her. 
+
+Thou art a fool : she robs thee of thy name ; 
+
+And thou wilt show more bright and seem 
+more virtuous 
+
+When she is gone. Then open not thy lips : 
+
+Firm and irrevocable is my doom 
+
+Which I have pass’d upon her ; she is banish’d, 
+
+Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, 
+
+my liege : 
+
+
+80 
+
+
+joes Li 3 See 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+ae aa ¥ 
+
+
+Act Il, Se. I] AS YOU 
+
+
+LIKE IT 255 
+
+
+I cannot live out of her company. 
+Duke F. You are a fool. You, niece, pro- 
+vide yourself : 
+If you outstay the time, upon mine honour, 90 
+And in the greatness of my word, you die. 
+[Exeunt Duke Frederick and Lords. 
+Cel. O my poor Rosalind, whither wilt 
+“thou go > 
+Wilt thou change fathers ? 
+mine. 
+I charge thee, be not thou more grieved than 
+I am. 
+Ros. I have more cause. 
+Cel. Thou hast not, cousin ; 
+Prithee, be cheerful : know’st thou not, the 
+duke 
+Hath banish’d me, his daughter > 
+
+
+I will give thee 
+
+
+Ros. That he hath not. 
+Cel. No, hath not >? Rosalind lacks then 
+the love 
+
+
+Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one: 
+Shall we be sunder’d ? shall we part, sweet 
+girl ? 
+No: let my father seek another heir. 101 
+Therefore devise with me how we may fly, 
+Whither to go and what to bear with us; 
+And do not seek to take your change upon you, 
+To bear your griefs yourself and leave me out ; 
+For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale, 
+Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee. 
+Ros. Why, whither shall we go > 
+‘Cel. To seek my uncle in the forest of 
+Arden. 
+
+Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to us, 
+Maids as we are, to travel forth so far ! 
+Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. 
+
+Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire 
+And with a kind of umber smirch my face ; 
+The like do you: so shalt we pass along 
+And never stir assailants. 
+
+Ros. Were it not better, 
+Because that I am more than common tall, 
+That I did suit me all points like a man >? 
+A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh, 119 
+A boar-spear in my hand; and—in my heart 
+Lie there what hidden woman's fear there 
+
+will-— 
+
+We ‘Il have a swashing and a martial outside, 
+As many other mannish cowards have 
+That do outface it with their semblances. 
+
+Cel. What shall I call thee when thou art 
+
+a man ? 
+Ros. I'll have no worse a name than Jove’s 
+sown page ; 
+
+And therefore look you call me Ganymede. 
+But what will you be call’d ? 
+
+Cel. Something that hath a reference to 
+
+
+my state ; 
+No longer Celia, but Aliéna. 130 
+
+
+Ros. 
+steal 
+The clownish fool out of your father’s court ? 
+Would he not be a comfort to our travel > 
+Cel. He'll go along o'er the wide world 
+with me ; 
+Leave me alone to woo him. Let’s away, 
+And get our jewels and our wealth together, 
+Devise the fittest time and safest way 
+To hide us from pursuit that will be made 
+After my flight. Now go we in content 139 
+To liberty and not to banishment, [Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT II. 
+
+
+Scene I. The Forest of Arden. 
+
+
+Enter DUKE senior, AMIENS, and two or 
+three Lords, like foresters. 
+
+
+Duke S. Now, my co-mates and brothers 
+
+in exile, 
+
+Hath not old custom made this life more sweet 
+
+Than that of painted pomp ? Are not these 
+woods 
+
+More free from peril than the envious court ? 
+
+Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, 
+
+The seasons’ difference, as the icy fang 
+
+And churlish chiding of the winter’s wind, 
+
+Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, 
+
+Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say 
+
+‘This is no flattery: these are counsellors 10 
+
+That feelingly persuade me what I am.” 
+
+Sweet are the uses of adversity, 
+
+Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, 
+
+Wears yet a precious jewel in his head ; 
+
+And this our life exempt from public haunt 
+
+Finds tongues in trees, books in the running 
+brooks, 
+
+Sermons in stones and good in every thing. 
+
+I would not change it. 
+
+Ami. Happy is your grace, 
+That can translate the stubbornness of fortune 
+Into so quiet and so sweet a style. 20 
+
+Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us 
+
+venison > 
+And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools, 
+Being native burghers of this desert city, 
+Should in their own confines with forked heads 
+Have their round haunches gored. 
+
+First Lord. Indeed, my lord, 
+The melancholy Jaques grieves at that, 
+
+And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp 
+Than doth your brother that hath banish’d you. 
+To-day my Lord of Amiens and myself 
+
+Did steal behind him as he lay aiong 30 
+Under an oak whose antique root peeps out 
+Upon the brook that brawls along this wood : 
+To the which place a poor sequester’d stag, 
+That from the hunter’s aim had ta’en a hurt, 
+Did come to languish, and indeed, my lord, 
+
+
+But, cousin, what if we assay'd to 
+
+
+256 
+
+
+AS YOU LIKE IT 
+
+
+Lak ae 
+
+
+el 
+
+
+The wretched animal heaved forth such groans 
+That their discharge did stretch his leathern 
+coat 
+Almost to bursting, and the big round tears 
+Coursed one another down his innocent nose 
+In piteous chase ; and thus the hairy fool, 40 
+Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, 
+Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook, 
+Augmenting it with tears. 
+
+Duke S. But what said Jaques > 
+Did he not moralize this spectacle ? 
+
+First Lord. O, yes, into a thousand similes. 
+First, for his weeping into the needless stream ; 
+“Poor deer,’ quoth he, ‘thou makest a testament 
+Ass worldlings do, giving thy sum of more 
+To that which had too much:’ then, being 
+
+there alone, 
+Left and abandon’d of his velvet friends, 50 
+*’Tis right,’ quoth he; ‘thus misery doth part 
+The flux of company :’ anon a careless herd, 
+Full of the pasture, jumps along by him 
+And never stays to greet him; ‘Ay,’ quoth 
+Jaques, 
+“Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens; 
+*Tis just the fashion : wherefore do you look 
+Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?’ 
+Thus most inyectively he pierceth through 
+The body of the country, city, court, 
+Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we 60 
+Are mere usurpers, tyrants and what's worse, 
+To fright the animals and to kill them up 
+In their assign’d and native dwelling-place. 
+
+Duke S. And did you leave him in this 
+
+contemplation >? 
+
+Sec. Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and 
+
+commenting 
+Upon the sobbing deer. 
+Duke S. Show me the place : 
+I love to cope him in these sullen fits, 
+For then he’s full of matter. 
+First Lord. {ll bring him to you straight 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. A room in the palace. 
+Enter DuKE FREDERICK, with Lords. 
+
+
+Duke F.. Can it be possible that no man 
+saw them ? 
+Tt cannot be : some villains of my court 
+Are of consent and sufferance in this. 
+First Lord. 1 cannot hear of any that did 
+see her, 
+The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, 
+Saw her a-bed, and in the morning early 
+They found the bed untreasured of their mis- 
+tress. 
+Sec. Lord. My lord, the roynish clown, at 
+whom so oft 
+Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. 
+Hisperia, the princess’ gentlewoman, 10 
+
+
+Confesses that she secretly o’erheard 
+Your daughter and her cousm much commend 
+The parts and graces of the wrestler 
+That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles ; 
+And she believes, wherever they are gone, 
+That youth is surely in their company. 
+
+Duke F. Send to his brother ; fetch that 
+
+gallant hither ; 
+
+If he be absent, bring his brother to me ; 
+I'll make him find him; do this suddenly, 
+
+
+And let not search and inquisition quail 20 
+To bring again these foolish runaways. . 
+[Exeuni, 
+
+
+Scene III. Before OLtver’s house. 
+Enter OrLANDO and ADAM, meeling. 
+
+
+Orl. Who's there ? 
+Adam. What, my young master? O my 
+gentle master ! 
+O my sweet master! O you memory 
+Of old Sir Rowland ! why, what make you 
+
+
+here ? 
+
+Why are you virtuous ? why do people love 
+you ? 
+
+And wherefore are you gentle, strong and 
+valiant ? 
+
+
+Why would you be so fond to overcome 
+
+The bonny priser of the humorous duke ? 
+
+Your praise is come too swiftly home before 
+you, 
+
+Know you not, master, to some kind of men 
+
+Their graces serve them but as enemies ? 
+
+No more do yours : your virtues, gentle master, 
+
+Are sanctified and holy traitors to you. 
+
+O, what a world is this, when what is comely 
+
+Envenoms him that bears it ! 
+
+Orl. Why, what's the matter ? 
+
+Adam. O unhappy youth! 
+Come not within these doors; within this roof 
+The enemy of all your graces lives : 
+Your brother—no, no brother ; yet the son— 
+Yet not the son, I will not call him son 20 
+Of him I was about to call his father— 
+Hath heard your praises, and this night he 
+
+means 
+
+To burn the lodging where you use to lie 
+And you within it: if he fail of that, 
+He will have other means to cut you off. 
+I overheard him and his practices. 
+This is no place ; this house is but a butchery : 
+Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it. 
+
+Orl. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou 
+
+
+have me go ? 
+
+
+Adam. No matter whither, so you come 
+not here. 
+Orl. What, wouldst thou have me go and 
+
+
+beg my food >? 
+Or with a base and boisterous sword enforce 
+A thievish living on the common road ? 
+
+
+[Acr iI, Sq-1l- 
+
+
+This I must do, or know not what to do: 
+Yet this I will not do, do how I can ; 
+| rather will subject me to the malice 
+- OF a diverted blood and bloody brother. 
+Adam, But do not so. I have five hundred 
+crowns, — 
+The thrifty hire I saved under your father, 
+Which I did store to be my foster-nurse 40 
+When service should in my old limbs lie lame 
+And unregarded age in corners thrown : 
+Take that, and He that doth the ravens feed, 
+Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, . 
+Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold ; 
+All this I give you. Let me be your servant : 
+Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty ; 
+For in my youth I never did apply 
+Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood, 
+Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo 50 
+The means of weakness and debility ; 
+Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, 
+Frosty, but kindly : let me go with you ; 
+I'll do the service of a younger man 
+‘In all your business and necessities. 
+Orl. O good old man, how wel! in thee 
+appears 
+The constant service of the antique world, 
+When service sweat for duty, not for meed ! 
+Thou art not for the fashion of these times, 
+Where none will sweat but for promotion, 60 
+And having that, do choke their service up 
+Even with the having: it is not so with thee, 
+But, poor old man, thou prunest a rotten tree, 
+That cannot so much as a blossom yield 
+In lieu of all thy pais and husbandry. 
+But come thy ways; we'll go along together, 
+And ere we have thy youthful wages spent, 
+We'll light upon some settled low content. 
+cy. Master, go on, and I will follow 
+ee, 
+To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty, 70 
+_ From seventeen years till now almost fourscore 
+Here lived I, but now live here no more. 
+At seventeen years many their fortunes seek ; 
+But at fourscore it is too late a week : 
+Yet fortune cannot recompense me better 
+Than to die well and not my master’s debtor. 
+Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. The Forest of Arden. 
+
+
+Enter Rosatinp for GANYMEDE, CELIA for 
+ALIENA, and TOUCHSTONE. 
+
+
+Ros. O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits ! 
+
+Touch. 1 care not for my spirits, if my 
+legs were not weary. 
+
+Ros. I could find in my heart to disgrace 
+my man’s apparel and to cry like a woman ; 
+but I must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet 
+and hose ought to show itself courageous to 
+
+
+AS YOU LIKE IT 
+
+
+™ 
+257 
+
+
+petticoat : therefore courage, good Aliena ! 
+Cel. I pray you, bear with me; I cannot 
+go no further. 1G 
+Touch. For my part, I had rather bear 
+with you than bear you; yet | should bear 
+no cross if I did bear you, for I think you 
+have no money in your purse. 
+Ros. Well, this is the forest of Arden. 
+Touch, Ay, now am I in Arden ; the 
+more fool I ; when I was at home, I was in a 
+better place ; but travellers must be content. 
+Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone. 
+
+
+Enter Corin and Sityius. 
+
+
+Look you, who comes here ; a young man and 
+an old in solemn talk. 
+
+
+Cor. That is the way to make her scorn 
+you still. 
+
+Sil. O Corin, that thou knew’st how I do 
+love her ! 
+
+Cor. I partly guess ; for I have loved ere 
+now. 
+
+Sil, No, Corin, being old, thou canst not 
+
+
+guess, 
+
+Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover 
+
+As ever sigh’d upon a midnight pillow : 
+
+But if thy love were ever like to mine— 
+
+As sure | think did never man love so— 
+
+How many actions most ridiculous 
+
+Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy ? 
+Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten. 
+Sil. O, thou didst then ne’er love se 
+
+heartily ! 
+
+If thou remember’st not the slightest folly 
+
+That ever love did make thee run into, 
+
+Thou hast not loved : 
+
+Or if thou hast not sat as I do now, 
+
+Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress’ praise, 
+
+Thou hast not loved : 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+Or if thou hast not broke from company 40 
+Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, 
+Thou hast not loved. 
+
+O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe ! [ Exit. 
+
+
+Ros. Alas, poor shepherd ! searching of 
+thy wound, 
+
+I have by hard adventure found mine own. 
+
+Touch. And I mine. I remember, when I 
+was in love I broke my sword upon a stone 
+and bid him take that for coming a-night to 
+Jane Smile ; and I remember the kissing of 
+her batlet and the cow’s dugs that her pretty 
+chopt hands had milked ; and I remember the 
+wooing of a peascod instead of her, from 
+whom I took two cods and, giving her them 
+again, said with weeping tears “ Wear these 
+for my sake.’ We that are true lovers run 
+into strange capers; but as all is mortal im 
+nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly. 
+
+
+AS YOU LIKE IT 
+
+
+[Acr I], Se. V 
+
+
+ee eee eee 
+
+
+Ros, Thou speakest wiser than thou art 
+ware of, 
+
+Touch, Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine 
+own wit till I break my shins against it. 60 
+Ros. Jove, Jove ! this shepherd's passion 
+
+Is much upon my fashion. 
+Touch. And mine; but it grows some- 
+thing stale with me. 
+Cel. I pray you, one of you question yond 
+man 
+If he for gold will give us any food : 
+I faint almost to death. 
+
+
+Touch, Holla, you clown ! 
+Ros. Peace, fool ; he’s not thy kinsman. 
+Cor. Who calls > 
+
+
+Touch, Your betters, sir. 
+
+
+Cor. Else are they very wretched. 
+Ros. Peace, I say. Good even to you, 
+friend. 
+
+
+Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. 
+Ros. I prithee, shepherd, if that love or 
+gold 
+Can in this desert place buy entertainment, 
+Bring us where we may rest ourselves and 
+
+
+feed : 
+
+
+Here’s a young maid with travel much 
+oppress'’d 
+And faints for succour. 
+Cor. Fair sir, I pity her 
+
+
+And wish, for her sake more than for mine 
+own, 
+My fortunes were more able to relieve her ; 
+But I am shepherd to another man 
+And do not shear the fleeces that I graze : 
+My master is of churlish disposition 80 
+And little recks to find the way to heaven 
+By doing deeds of hospitality : 
+Besides, his cote, his flocks and bounds of feed 
+Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now, 
+By reason of his absence, there is nothing 
+That you will feed on ; but what is, come see, 
+And in my voice most welcome shall you be. 
+Ros. What is he that shall buy his flock 
+and pasture > 
+Cor. That young swain that you saw here 
+but erewhile, 
+That little cares for buying any thing. 90 
+Ros. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty, 
+Buy thou the cottage, pasture and the flock, 
+And thou shalt have to pay for it of us. 
+Cel. And we will mend thy wages. I like 
+this place, 
+And willingly could waste my time in it. 
+Cor. Assuredly the thing is to be sold : 
+Go with me: if you like upon report 
+The soil, the profit and this kind of life, 
+I will your very faithful feeder be 
+And buy it with your gold right suddenly. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene V. The forest. 
+Enter AMIENS, JaQuEs, and others, 
+
+
+Sone. 
+
+
+Under the greenwood tree 
+
+Who loves to lie with me, 
+
+And turn his merry note 
+
+Unto the sweet bird's throat, 
+
+Come hither, come hither, come hither : 
+Here shall he see 
+\No enemy 
+
+But winter and rough weather. 
+
+
+Ami. 
+
+
+Jaq. More, more, I prithee, more. 
+
+Ami, It will make you melancholy, Mon- 
+sieur Jaques. W 
+
+Jaq. I thank it. More, I prithee, more. I 
+can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weasel 
+sucks eggs. More, I prithee, more. 
+
+Ami. My voice~is ragged : I know I can- 
+not please you. 
+
+
+Jaq. 1 do not desire you to please me ; I 
+do desire you to sing. Come, more ; another 
+stanzo : call you ‘em stanzos > 
+
+
+Ami, What you will, Monsieur Jaques. 20 
+
+Jaq. Nay, I care not for their names ; they 
+owe me nothing. Will you sing ? 
+
+Ami. More at your request than to please 
+myself. 
+
+Jaq. Well, then, if ever I thank any man, 
+Ill thank you; but that they call compliment 
+is like the encounter of two dog-apes, and 
+when a man thanks me heartily, methinks I 
+have given him a penny and he renders me 
+the beggarly thanks. Come, sing; and you 
+that will not, hald your tongues. 31 
+
+
+Ami. Well, I'll end the song. Sirs, cover 
+the while ; the duke will drink under this 
+tree. He hath been all this day to look you. 
+
+
+Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid 
+him. He is too disputable for my company : 
+I think of as many matters as he, but I give 
+heaven thanks and make no boast of them. 
+Come, warble, come. 
+
+
+Sone. 
+Who doth ambition shun [All together here. 
+4] 
+
+
+And loves to live 1’ the sun, 
+Seeking the food he eats 
+And pleased with what he gets, 
+Come hither, come hither, come hither : > 
+Here shall he see 
+No enemy 
+But winter and rough weather. 
+
+
+Jaq. I'll give you a verse to this note that 
+{ made yesterday in despite of my invention. 
+
+Ami. And I'll sing it. 
+
+Jaa. Thus it goes :— 
+
+
+‘ - 
+
+
+Act Il, Sc. VII] 
+
+
+AS YOU LIKE IT 
+
+
+aS ae. 
+
+
+259 
+
+
+ae 
+
+
+If it do come to-pass 
+That any man turn ass, 
+Leaving his wealth and ease, 
+5 A stubborn will to please, 
+~ Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame: 
+Here shall he see 
+Gross fools as he, 
+An if he will come to me. 
+
+
+Ami. What's that ‘ducdame’? 60 
+Jaq. “Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools 
+into a circle. I'll go sleep, if I can; if I can- 
+not, I'll rail against all the first-born of Egypt. 
+Ami. And I'll go seek the duke: his 
+
+
+banquet is prepared. [Exeunt severally. 
+
+
+Scene VI. The forest. 
+Enter ORLANDO and ADAM. 
+Adam, Dear master, I can go no further : 
+
+
+O, I die for food! Here lie I down, and 
+measure out my grave. Farewell, kind master. 
+
+Orl. Why, how now, Adam! no greater 
+heart in thee? Live a little; comfort a little; 
+cheer thyself a little. If this uncouth forest 
+yield any thing savage, I will either be food for 
+it or bring it for food to thee. Thy conceit is 
+nearer death than thy powers. For my sake 
+be comfortable; hold death awhile at the 
+arm's end: I will here be with thee presently; 
+and if I bring thee not something to eat, I will 
+give thee leave to die : but if thou diest before 
+I come, thou art a mocker of my labour. 
+Well said! thou lookest cheerly, and I ‘Il be 
+with thee quickly. Yet thou liest in the bleak 
+air: come, I will bear thee to some shelter ; 
+and thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner, if 
+there live any thing in this desert. Cheerly, 
+good :\dam ! [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene VII. The forest. 
+
+
+A table set out. Enter DUKE senior, AMIENS, 
+and Lords like outlaws. 
+
+
+Duke S. I think he be transformed into a 
+beast ; 
+For I can no where find him like a man. 
+First Lord. My lord, he is but even now 
+gone hence: 
+Here was he merry, 
+Duke S. 
+musical, 
+We shall have shortly discord in the spheres. 
+Go, seek him: tell him I would speak with 
+, him. 
+
+
+hearing of a song. 
+If ke, compact of jars, grow 
+
+
+Enter JAQUES. 
+First Lord. He saves my labour by his 
+own approach. 
+Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur! what 
+2 life is this, 
+
+
+That your poor friends must woo your com- 
+
+
+pany? 
+What, you look merrily! It 
+Jaq. A fool, a fool! I met a fool i’ the 
+
+forest, 
+
+
+| A motley fool; a miserable world! 
+
+
+As I do live by food, I met a fool; 
+Who laid him down and bask’d him in the 
+sun, 
+And rail’d on Lady Fortune in good terms, 
+In good set terms and yet a motley fool. 
+‘Good morrow, fool,’ quoth I. ‘No, sir,’ 
+quoth he, 
+‘Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me 
+fortune: 
+And then he drew a dial from his poke, 20 
+And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye, 
+Says very wisely, ‘It is ten o'clock: 
+Thus we may sce,’ quoth he, ‘how the world 
+wags : 
+‘Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, 
+And after one hour more ‘twill be eleven ; 
+And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, 
+And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot ; 
+And thereby hangs a tale. When I did hear 
+The motley fool thus moral on the time, 
+My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, 30 
+That fools should be so deep-contemplative, 
+And I did laugh sans intermission 
+An hour by his dial. O noble fool! 
+A worthy fool! Mbotley’s the only wear. 
+Duke S. What fool is this? 
+Jaq. O worthy fool! One that hath been 
+a courtier, 
+And says, if ladies be but young and fair, 
+They have the gift to know it: and in his 
+brain, 
+Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit 
+After a voyage, he hath strange places 
+cramm’d 
+With observation, the which he vents 4] 
+In mangled forms. O that I were a fool ! 
+I am ambitious for a motley coat, 
+Duke S. Thou shalt have one. 
+aq. It is my only suit ; 
+Provided that you weed your better judge- 
+ments 
+Of all opinion that grows rank in them 
+That I am wise. I must have liberty 
+Withal, as large a charter as the wind, 
+To blow on whom I please ; for so fools have ; 
+And they that are most galled with my folly, 
+They most must laugh. And why, sir, must 
+they so >? 
+The ‘why’ is plain as way to parish church : 
+He that a fool doth very wisely hit 
+Doth very foolishly, although he smart, 
+Not to seem senseless of the bob : if not, 
+The wise man’s folly is anatomized 
+
+
+260 
+
+
+AS YOU LIKE IT 
+
+
+} 
+
+
+[Acr IeSecwie 
+
+
+Even by the squandering glances of the fool. 
+Invest me in my motley ; give me leave 
+To speak my mind, and I will through and 
+through 
+Cleanse the foul body of the infected world, 
+If they will patiently receive my medicine. 
+Duke S. Fie on thee ! I can tell what thou 
+
+
+wouldst do, 
+
+
+Jaq. What, for a counter, would I do but 
+good ? 
+
+Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in 
+chiding sin : 
+
+
+For thou thyself hast been a libertine, 
+
+As sensual as the brutish sting itself ; 
+
+And all the embossed sores and headed evils, 
+
+That thou with license of free foot hast caught, 
+
+Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world. 
+Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride, 70 
+
+That can therein tax any private party > 
+
+Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea, : 
+
+7 Till that the weary very means do ebb ? 
+
+What woman in the city do I name, 
+
+‘When that I say the city-woman bears 
+
+The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders > 
+
+Who can come in and say that I mean her, 
+
+When such a one as she such is her neighbour ? 
+
+Or what is he of basest function 
+
+That says his bravery is not on my cost, 80 
+
+Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits 
+
+His folly to the mettle of my speech ? 
+
+There then ; how then ? what then ? Let me 
+
+see wherein 
+My tongue hath wrong’d him: if it do him 
+right, 
+
+Then he hath wrong’d himself; if the be free, 
+
+Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies, 
+
+Unclaim'’d of any man. But who comes here ? 
+
+
+Enter ORLANDO, with his sword drawn. 
+
+
+Orl. Forbear, and eat no more. 
+
+Jaq. Why, I have eat none yet. 
+
+Orl. Nor shalt not, till necessity be served. 
+
+Jaq. Of what kind should this cock come 
+of > 
+
+Duke S. Art thou thus bolden’d, man, by 
+thy distress, 91 
+
+
+Or else a-rude despiser of good manners, 
+That in civility thou seem’st so empty >? 
+Orl, You touch’d my vein at first: the 
+thorny point 
+Of bare distress hath ta’en from me the show 
+Of smooth civility : yet am I inland bred 
+And know some nurture. But forbear, I say : 
+He dies that touches any of this fruit 
+Till I and my affairs are answered. 
+Jaq. An you will not be answered with 
+reason, I must die. 10] 
+Duke S. What would vou have > Your 
+
+
+gentleness shall force 
+
+
+More than your force move us to gentleness. 
+Orl. I almost die for food; and let me 
+have it. 
+Duke S. Sit down and feed, and welcome 
+to our table. 
+Orl, Speak you so gently > Pardon me, 
+I pray you : ‘ 
+I thought that all things had been savage here ; 
+And therefore put I on the countenance 
+
+
+Of stern commandment. But whate’er youare — 
+
+
+That in this desert inaccessible, 110 
+Under the shade of melancholy boughs, 
+
+Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time ; 
+If ever you have look'd on better days, 
+
+If ever been where bells have knoll’d to church, 
+If ever sat at any good man’s feast, 
+
+If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear 
+
+And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied, 
+Let gentleness my strong enforcement be : 
+
+In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword. 
+
+Duke S. True is it that we have seen 
+
+better days, 120 
+And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church 
+And sat at good men’s feasts and wiped our 
+
+eyes 
+Of drops that sacred pity hath engender’d: 
+And therefore sit you down in gentleness 
+And take upon command what help we have 
+That to your wanting may be minister’d. 
+
+Orl. Then but forbear your food a little 
+
+while, 
+
+Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn 
+And give it food. There is an old poor man, 
+Who after me hath many a weary step 130 
+Limp’d in pure love : till he be first sufficed, 
+Oppress’d with ttvo weak evils, age and hunger, 
+I will not touch a bit. ‘ 
+
+Duke S. Go find him out, 
+
+And we will nothing waste till you return, 
+
+Orl. I thank ye ; and be blest for your 
+
+good comfort ! [Exit 
+
+Duke S. Thou seest we are not all alone 
+
+unhappy : 
+
+This wide and universal theatre : 
+Presents more woeful pageants than the scene 
+Wherein we play in. 
+
+Jaq. All the world's a stage, 
+And all the men and women merely players : 
+They have their exits and their entrances; 
+And one man in his time plays many parts, 
+His acts being seven ages. Att first the infant, 
+Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms. 
+And then the whining school-boy, with his 
+
+satchel 
+And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
+Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, 
+Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad 
+Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a 
+
+soldier, 
+
+
+ay yt Ee 
+Pie ae 
+
+
+t 
+4 
+t 
+
+
+ws. 
+
+
+LIKE iT 261 
+
+
+Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, 
+
+Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in 
+quarrel, 
+
+Seeking the bubble reputation 
+
+Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the 
+justice, 
+
+In fair round belly with good capon lined, 
+
+With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, 
+
+Full of wise saws and modern instances ; 
+
+And s0 he plays his part. The sixth age shifts 
+
+Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, 
+
+With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, 
+
+His youthful hose, well saved, a world too 
+wide 
+
+For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, 
+
+Turning again toward childish treble, pipes 
+
+
+_ And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, 
+
+
+That ends this strange eventful history, 
+
+Is second childishness and mere oblivion, 
+
+Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every 
+thing. « 
+
+
+Re-enter ORLANDO, with ADAM. 
+
+
+Duke. Welcome. 
+able burden 
+And let him feed. 
+Orl. I thank you most for him. 
+Adam. So had you need : 
+I scarce can speak to thank you for myself. 
+Duke S. Welcome ; fall to: I will not 
+trouble you 
+As yet, to question you about your fortunes. 
+Give us some music ; and, good cousin, sing. 
+
+
+Sone. 
+
+
+Ami. Blow, blow, thou winter wind, 
+Thou art not so unkind 
+As man’s ingratitude ; 
+Thy tooth is not so keen, 
+Because thou art not seen, 
+Although thy breath be rude. 179 
+Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green 
+holly : 
+aes fieaen is feigning, most loving mere 
+olly : 
+Then, heigh-ho, the holly ! 
+This life is most jolly. 
+
+
+Set down your vener- 
+
+
+Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, 
+That dost not bite so nigh 
+As benefits forgot : 
+Though thou the waters warp, 
+Thy sting is not so sharp 
+As friend remember'd not. 
+Heigh-ho ! sing, &c. 
+Duke S. If that you were the good Sir 
+Rowland’s son, 
+As you have whisper’d faithfully you were, 
+And as mine eye doth his effigies witness 
+Most truly limn’d and living in your face, 
+
+
+Be truly welcome hither : I am the duke 
+That loved your father: the residue of your 
+fortune, 
+
+Go to my cave and tell me. Good old man, 
+
+Thou art right welcome as thy master is. 
+
+Support him by the arm. Give me your hand, 
+
+And let me all your fortunes understand. 200 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT III. 
+Scene I. A room in the palace. 
+Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords, and OLIVER. 
+
+
+Duke F. Not see him since ? Sir, sir, that 
+cannot be : 
+But were I not the better part made mercy, 
+I should not seek an absent argument 
+Of my revenge, thou present. But look to it : 
+Find out thy brother, wheresoe’er he is ; 
+Seek him with candle ; bring him dead or 
+living 
+Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no 
+more 
+To seek a living in our territory. 
+Thy lands and all things that thou dost call 
+thine 
+Worth seizure do we seize into our hands, 10 
+Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother’s 
+mouth 
+Of what we think against thee. 
+Oli. © that your highness knew my heart 
+in this ! 
+I never loved my brother in my life. 
+Duke F. More villain thou. Well, push 
+him out of doors ; 
+And let my officers of such a nature 
+Make an extent upon his house and lands : 
+Do this expediently and turn him going. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+The forest. 
+Enter ORLANDO, with a paper. 
+
+
+Scene II. 
+
+
+Osh Hang there, my verse, in witness of my 
+ove : 
+And thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, 
+survey 
+With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere 
+above, 
+Thy huntress’ name that my full life doth 
+sway. 
+
+
+O Rosalind ! these trees shall be my books 
+And in their barks my thoughts I'll char- 
+acter 5 
+That every eye which in this forest looks 
+Shall see thy virtue witness’d every where. 
+Run, run, Orlando ; carve on every tree S 
+The fair, the chaste and unexpressive she. 
+
+
+[ Exit. 
+
+
+[Act Ill, Sc. Il 
+
+
+The courtier’s hands are per- 
+
+
+262 AS YOU LIKE IT 
+Enier Corin and ToucHSTONE, us kiss tar ? 
+Cor. And how like you this shepherd's} fumed with civet. 
+
+
+life, Master Touchstone >? 
+
+Touch. Truly, shepherd, in respect of 
+itself, it is a good life ; but in respect that it 
+is a shepherd's life, it is naught. In respect 
+that it is solitary, I like it very well ; but in 
+respect that it is private, it is a very vile life. 
+Now, in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth 
+me well ; but in respect it is not in the court, 
+it is tedious. A\s it is a spare life, look you, 
+it fits my humour well; but as there is no 
+more plenty in it, ‘t goes much against my 
+stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shep- 
+herd > 
+
+Cor. No more but that I know the more 
+one sickens the worse at ease he is ; and that 
+he that wants money, means and content is 
+without three good friends ; that the property 
+of rain is to wet and fire to burn ; that good 
+pasture makes fat sheep, and that a great 
+cause of the night is lack of the sun ; that he 
+that hath learned no wit by nature nor art 
+may complain of good breeding or comes of a 
+very dull kindred. 
+
+Touch. Such a one is a natural philosopher. 
+Wast ever in court, shepherd ? 
+
+Cor. No, truly. 
+
+Touch. Then thou art damned. 
+
+Cor. Nay, I hope. 
+
+Touch. Truly, thou art damned, like an 
+ill-roasted egg all on one side. 39 
+
+Cor. For not being at court ? Your reason. 
+
+Touch. Why, if thou never wast at court, 
+thou never sawest good manners; if thou 
+never sawest good manners. then thy manners 
+must be wicked ; and wickedness is sin, and 
+sin is damnation. Thou art in a parlous state, 
+shepherd, 
+
+Cor. Not a whit, Touchstone : those that 
+are good manners at the court are as ridiculous 
+in the country as the behavior of the country 
+is most mockable at the court. You told me 
+you salute not at the court, but you kiss your 
+sthands : that courtesy would be uncleanly, if 
+courtiers were shepherds. 
+
+Touch. Instance, briefly ; come, instance. 
+
+Cor. Why, we are still handling our ewes, 
+and their fells. you know, are greasy. 
+
+Touch. Why, do not your courtier’s hands 
+sweat? and is not the grease of a mutton as 
+wholesome as the sweat of a man ? Shallow, 
+shallow. A better instance, I say ; come. 
+
+Cor. Bes'des, our hands are hard, 60 
+
+Touch. Your lips will feel them the sooner. 
+Shallow again. A more sounder instance, 
+come. 
+
+Cor. And they are often tarred over witth 
+the surgery of our sheep ; and would you have 
+
+
+Touch. Most shallow man! thou worms- 
+meat, in respect of a good piece of flesh 
+indeed! Learn of the wise, and perpend : 
+civet is of a baser birth than tar, the very un- 
+cleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance, 
+shepherd. 71 
+
+Cor. You have too courtly a wit for me: 
+I'll rest. 
+
+Touch. Wilt thou rest damned? God help 
+thee, shallow iwnan! God make incision in 
+thee! thou art raw. : 
+
+Cor. Sir, I am a true laborer: I earn that 
+I eat, get that I wear, owe no man hate, envy 
+no man’s happiness, glad of other men’s good, 
+content with my harm, and the greatest of 
+my pride is to see my ewes graze and my 
+lambs suck. 
+
+Touch. That is another simple sin in you, 
+to bring the ewes and the rams together and 
+to offer to get your living by the copulation 
+of cattle; to be bawd to a bell-wether, and 
+to betray a she-lamb of a twelvemonth to a 
+crooked-pated, old, cuckoldly ram, out of all 
+reasonable match. If thou beest not damned 
+for this, the devil himself will have no shep- 
+herds; [ cannot see else how thou shouldst 
+"scape. 90 
+
+Cor. Here comes young Master Ganymede, 
+my new mistress’s brother. 
+
+
+Enter Rosa.inp, with a paper, reading. 
+
+
+Ros. From the east to western Ind, 
+No jewel is like Rosalind. 
+Her worth, being mounted on the 
+wind, 
+Throueh all the world bears Rosa- 
+lind. 
+All the pictures fairest lined 
+Are but black to Rosalind. 
+Let no fair be kept in mind 
+But the fair of Rosalind. 100 
+Touch. Ill rhyme you so eight years to- 
+gether, dinners and suppers and sleeping-houra 
+excepted: it is the right butter-women's rank 
+to market. 
+Ros. Out, fool! 
+Touch. For a taste: 
+If a hart do lack a hind, 
+Let him seek out Rosalind. 
+If the cat will after kind, 
+So be sure will Rosalind. 
+Winter garments must be lined. 
+So must slender Rosalind. 
+They that reap must sheaf and bind; 
+Then to cart with Rosalind. 
+Sweetest nut hath sourest rind, 
+Such a nut is Rosalind. 
+
+
+110 
+
+
+oa 
+
+
+Ser ae a 
+
+
+Act III, Sc. 1] 
+
+
+He that sweetest rose will find 
+Must find love’s prick and Rosalind. 
+
+
+This is the very false gallop of verses: why 
+do you infect yourself with them? 120 
+
+Ros. Peace, you dull fool! I found them 
+-on a tree. 
+
+Touch. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit. 
+
+Ros. I'll graff it with you, and then I 
+shall graff it with a medlar: then it will be 
+the earliest fruit i’ the country; for you ‘ll 
+be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that’s the 
+right virtue of the medlar. 
+
+Touch. You have said; but whether wisely 
+or no, let the forest judge. 130 
+
+
+Enter Ceia, with a priling. 
+
+
+Ros. Peace! 
+Here comes my sister, reading: stand aside. 
+
+
+Cel. [Reads] 
+
+
+Why should this a desert be? 
+For it is unpeopled? No; 
+Tongues I'll hang on every tree, 
+That shall civil sayings show: 
+Some, how brief the life of man 
+Runs his erring pilgrimage, 
+That the stretching of a span 
+Buckles in his sum of age; 140 
+Some of violated vows 
+*Twixt the souls of friend and friend: 
+But upon the fairest boughs, 
+Or at every sentence end, 
+Will I Rosalinda write, 
+Teaching all that read to know 
+The quintessence of every sprite 
+Heaven would in little show. 
+Therefore Heaven Nature charged 
+That one body should be fill’d 150 
+With all graces wide-enlarged: 
+Nature presently distill’d 
+Helen's cheek, but not her heart, 
+Cleopatra’s majesty, 
+Atalanta’s better part, 
+Sad Lucretia’s modesty. 
+Thus Rosalind of many parts 
+By heavenly synod was devised, 
+Of many faces, eyes and hearts, . 
+To have the touches dearest prized. 
+Heaven would that she these gifts should 
+have, 
+
+
+And I to live and die her slave. 
+
+
+Ros. O most gentle pulpiter! what tedious 
+homily of love have you wearied your parish- 
+ioners withal, and never cried “Have patience, 
+good people’! 
+
+Cel. How now! back, friends! Shepherd, 
+go off a little. Go with him, sirrah. 
+
+Touch. Come, shepherd, let us make an 
+
+
+AS YOU VIREO 
+
+
+263 
+
+
+honourable retreat; though not with bag and 
+baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage. 171 
+[Exeunt Corin and Touchsione. 
+
+Cel. Didst thou hear these verses? 
+
+Ros. O, yes, I heard them all, and more 
+too; for some of them had in them more feet 
+than the verses would bear. 
+
+Cel. That’s no matter: the feet might bear 
+the verses. 
+
+Ros. Ay, but the feet were lame and could 
+not bear themselves without the verse and 
+therefore stood lamely in the verse. 180 
+
+Cel. But didst thou hear without wonder- 
+ing how thy name should be hanged and 
+carved upon these trees? 
+
+Ros. | was seven of the nine days out 
+of the wonder before you came; for look here 
+what I found on a palm-tree. I was never so 
+berhymed since Pythagoras’ time, that I was 
+an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember. 
+
+Cel. Trow you who hath done this? 
+
+Ros. Is it a man? 190 
+
+Cel. And a chain, that you once wore, 
+about his neck, Change you colour? 
+
+Ros. I prithee, who? 
+
+Cel. O Lord, Lord! it is a hard matter for 
+friends to meet; but mountains may be re- 
+moved with earthquakes and so encounter. 
+
+Ros. Nay, but who is it? 
+
+Cel. Is it possible? 
+
+Ros. Nay, I pritheee now with most peti- 
+tionary vehemence, tell me who it is. 200 
+
+Cel. O wonderful, wonderful, and most 
+wonderful wonderful! and yet again wonder- 
+ful, and after that, out of all hooping! 
+
+Ros. Good my complexion! dost thou 
+think, though I am caparisoned like a man, 
+I have a doublet and hose in my disposition ? 
+One inch of delay more is a South-sea of 
+discovery; I prithee, tell me who is it 
+quickly, and speak apace. I would thou 
+couldst stammer, that thou mightst pour this 
+concealed man out of thy mouth as wine 
+comes out of a narrow-mouthed bottle, either 
+too much at once, or none at all. I prithee, 
+take the cork out of thy mouth that I may 
+drink thy tidings. 
+
+Cel. So you may put a man in your belly. 
+
+Ros. Is he of God’s making? What man- 
+ner of man? Is his head worth a hat, or his 
+chin worth a beard? 
+
+Cel. Nay, he hath but a little beard. 219 
+
+Ros. Why, God will send more, if the 
+man will be thankful: let me stay the growth 
+of his beard, if thou delay me not the knowl- 
+edge of his chin. 
+
+Cel. It is young Orlando, that tripped up 
+the wrestler’s heels and your heart both in ar 
+instant. 
+
+
+Behe ies ke 
+264 AS YOU LIKE IT [Acr III, Sc. 
+
+
+ba 
+
+
+Ros. Nay, but the devil take mocking: 
+speak, sad brow and true maid. 
+
+
+Cel. I’ faith, coz, ‘tis he. 
+Ros. Orlando? 
+Cet. Orlando. 230 
+
+
+Ros, Alas the day! what shall I do with 
+my doublet and hose? What did he when 
+thou sawest him? What said he? How looked 
+he? Wherein went he? What makes he here? 
+Did he ask for me? Where remains he? 
+How parted he with thee? and whea shalt thou 
+see him again? Answer me in one word. 
+
+Cel. You must borrow me Gargantua’s 
+mouth first: ‘tis a word too great for any 
+mouth of this age’s size. To say ay and no 
+to these particulars is more than to answer in 
+
+
+a catechism. 241 
+Ros. But doth he know that I am in this 
+forest and in man’s apparel? Looks he as 
+
+
+freshly as he did the day he wrestled? 
+
+Cel, It is as easy to count atomies as to re- 
+solve the propositions of a lover: but take a 
+taste of my finding him, and relish it with good 
+observance. I found him under a tree, like a 
+dropped acorn. 
+
+Ros. It may well be called Jove's tree, 
+
+
+when it drops forth such fruit. 250 
+Cel. Give me audience, good madam. 
+Ros. Proceed, 
+
+
+Cel. There lay he, stretched along, like a 
+wounded knight. 
+
+Ros, Though it be pity to see such a sight, 
+it well becomes the ground. 
+
+Cel. Cry ‘holla’ to thy tongue, I prithee; 
+
+
+it curvets unseasonably. He was furnished like 
+a hunter. 259 
+Ros. O, ominous! he comes to kill my heart. 
+
+
+Cel. I would sing my song without a 
+burden: thou bringest me out of tune. 
+
+Ros. Do you not know J] am a woman? 
+when I think, I must speak. Sweet, say on. 
+
+Cel. You bring me out. Soft! comes he 
+not here? 
+
+
+Enter ORLANDO and JAQUES. 
+
+
+Ros. "Tis he: slink by, and note him. 
+
+Jag. Ythank you for your company; but, 
+good faith, I had as lief have been myself 
+alone. 270 
+
+Orl. And so had I; but yet, for fashion 
+sake, I thank you too for your society. 
+
+Jaq. God be wi’ you: let’s meet as little 
+as we can. 
+
+Orl. 1 do desire we may be better strangers. 
+
+Jaq. 1 pray you, mar no more trees with 
+writing love-songs in their barks. 
+
+Orl. 1 pray you, mar no moe of my verses 
+with reading them ill-favouredly. 
+
+Jag. Rosalind is your love’s name? 
+
+
+280 
+
+
+Orl. Yes, just. 
+aq. I do not like her name. 
+There was no thought of pleacing you 
+when she was christened. 
+Jaq. What stature is she of? 
+Orl. Just as high as my heart. 
+
+
+Jaq. Youare full of pretty answers. Have 
+
+
+you not been acquainted with goldsmiths’ — 
+
+
+wives, and conned them out of rings? 289) 
+
+Orl. Not so; but I answer you right painted 
+cloth, from whence you have studied your 
+questions. 
+
+Jaq. You have a nimble wit: I think “twas 
+made of Atalanta’s heels. Will you sit down 
+with me? and we two will rail against our 
+mistress the world and all our misery. 
+
+Orl. I will chide no breather in the world 
+but myself, against whom I know most faults. 
+
+Jaq. The worst fault you have is to be in 
+love. 300 
+
+Orl. "Tis a fault I will not change for 
+your best virtue. I am weary of you. 
+
+Jaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool 
+when I found you. 
+
+Orl. He is drowned in the brook: look but 
+
+
+in, and you shall see him. 
+
+
+Jaq. There I shall see mine own figure. 
+Orl. Which I take to be either a fool or a 
+cipher. 
+
+
+Jaq. "ll tarry no longer with you: farewell, 
+good Signior Love. = 310 
+
+Orl. I am glad of your departure: adieu, 
+good Monsieur Melancholy. [Exit Jaques. 
+
+Ros. [Aside to Celia] I will speak to him 
+like a saucy lackey and under that habit play 
+the knave with him. Do you hear, forester? 
+
+Orl. Very well: what would you? 
+
+Ros. I pray you, what is ’t o'clock? 
+
+Orl. ‘You should ask me what time o’ day: 
+there’s no clock in the forest. 319 
+
+Ros. Then there is no true lover in the 
+forest; else sighing every minute and groaning 
+every hour would detect the lazy foot of Time 
+as well as a clock. 
+
+Orl. And why not the swift foot of Time? 
+had not that been as proper? 
+
+Ros. By no means, sir: Time travels in 
+divers paces with divers persons. I'll tell you 
+who Time ambles withal, who Time trots 
+withal, who Time gallops withal and who he 
+stands still withal. 
+
+Orl. I prithee, who doth he trot withal? 330 
+
+Ros. Marry, he trots hard with a young 
+maid between the contract of her marriage and 
+the day it is solemnized: if the interim be but 
+a se'nnight, Time’s pace is so hard that it 
+seems the length of seven year. 
+
+Orl. Who ambles Time withal? 
+
+Ros. With a priest that lacks Latin and a 
+
+
+ot 
+
+
+~ rich man that hath not the gout, for the one 
+
+_ sleeps easily because he cannot study and the 
+
+other lives merrily because he feels no pain, the 
+
+4 one lacking the burden of lean and wasteful 
+
+- learning, the other knowing no burden of heavy 
+tedious penury; these Time ambles withal. 
+
+Orl. Who doth he gallop withal >? 
+
+Ros. With a thief to the gallows, for though 
+he go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks him- 
+self too soon there. 
+
+Orl. Who stays it still withal? 
+
+Ros. With lawyers in the vacation; for 
+they sleep between term and term and then they 
+perceive not how Time moves. 351 
+
+Orl. Where dwell you, pretty youth? 
+
+Ros. With this shepherdess, my sister; here 
+in the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a 
+
+: petticoat. 
+
+iy Orl. Are you native of this place? 
+
+; Ros, As the cony that you see dwell where 
+she is kindled. 
+
+N Orl. Your accent is something finer than 
+you could purchase in so removed a dwelling. 
+
+Ros. I have been told so of many: but in- 
+deed an old religious uncle of mine taught me 
+to speak, who was in his youth an inland man; 
+ene that knew courtship too well, for there he 
+fell in love. I have heard him read many 
+
+, lectures against it, and I thank God I am not 
+a woman, to be touched with so many giddy 
+offences as he hath generally taxed their whole 
+sex withal. 
+
+Orl. Can you remember any of the principal 
+evils that he laid to the charge of women? 370 
+
+Ros. There were none principal; they were 
+all like one another as half-pence are, every 
+one fault seeming monstrous till his fellow- 
+fault came to match it. 
+
+Orl. I prithee, recount some of them. 
+
+Ros. No, J will not cast away my physic but 
+on those that are sick. There is a man haunts 
+the forest, that abuses our young plants with 
+carving * Rosalind’ on their barks; hangs odes 
+upon hawthorns and elegies on brambles, all, 
+forsooth, deifying the name of Rosalind: if I 
+could meet that fancy-monger, I would give 
+him some geod counsel, for he seems to have 
+the quotidian of love upon him. 
+
+Orl. I am he that isso love-shaked: I pray 
+you, tell me your remedy. 
+
+Ros. There is none of my uncle’s marks 
+upon you: he taught me how to know a man 
+in love; in which cage of rushes I am sure you 
+are not prisoner. 390 
+
+rl. What were his marks? 
+
+Ros. A lean cheek, which you have not, a 
+blue eye and sunken, which you have not, an 
+unquestionable spirit, which you have not, a 
+beard neglected, which yau have not; but I 
+
+
+AS YOU LIKE IT 
+
+
+Ne 
+
+
+265 
+
+
+pardon you for that, for simply your having in 
+beard is a younger brother’s revenue: then your 
+hose should be ungartered, your bonnet un- 
+banded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe un- 
+tied and every thing about you demonstrating 
+a careless desolation; but you are no such man; 
+you are rather point-device in your accoutre- 
+ments as loving yourself than seeming the lover 
+of any other. 
+
+Orl. Fair youth, I would I could make thee 
+believe I love. 
+
+Ros. Me believe it! you may as soon make 
+her that you love believe it; which, | warrant, 
+she is apter to do than to confess she does: that 
+is one of the points in the which women still 
+give the lie to their consciences. But, in good 
+sooth, are you he that hangs the verses on the 
+trees, wherein Rosalind is so admired? 
+
+Orl. I swear to thee, youth, by the white 
+hand of Rosalind, I am that he, that un- 
+fortunate he. 
+
+Ros. But are you so much in love as your 
+rhymes speak? 
+
+Orl. Neither rhyme nor reason can express 
+how much. 419 
+
+Ros. Love is merely a madness, and, | tell 
+you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip 
+as madmen do: and the reason why they are 
+not so punished and cured is, that the lunacy 
+is so ordinary that the whippers are in love 
+too. Yet I profess curing it by counsel. 
+
+Orl. Did you ever cure any so? 
+
+Ros. Yes, one, and in this manner. He 
+was to imagine me his love, his mistress; and 
+I set him every day to woo me: at which time 
+would I, being a moonish youth, grieve, be 
+effeminate, changeable, longing and _ liking, 
+proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant, 
+full of tears, full of smiles, for every passion 
+something and for no passion truly any thing, 
+as boys and women are for the most part cattle 
+of this colour; would now like him, now loathe 
+him; then entertain him, then forswear him; 
+now weep for him, then spit at him; that I 
+drave my suitor from his mad humour of love 
+to a living humour of madness; which was, to 
+forswear the full stream of the world and to 
+live in a nook merely monastic. And thus | 
+cured him; and this way will I take upon me 
+to wash your liver as clean as a sound sheep's 
+heart, that there shall not be one spot of love 
+in ’t. 
+
+Orl. I would not be cured, youth. 
+
+Ros. I would cure you, if you would but 
+call me Rosalind and come every day to my 
+cote and woo me. 
+
+Orl. Now, by the faith of my love, { will: 
+tell me where it is. 450 
+
+Ros. Go with me to it and I ’Il show it you: 
+
+
+266 
+
+
+and by the way you shall tell me where in the 
+forest you live. Will you go? 
+
+Orl. With all my heart, good youth. 
+
+Ros. Nay, you must call me Rosalind. 
+Come, sister, will you go? [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. The forest. 
+
+
+Enter TOUCHSTONE and AupREY; JAQUES 
+behind. 
+
+
+Touch. Come apace, good Audrey: I will 
+fetch up your goats, Audrey. And how, 
+Audrey? am I the man yet? doth my simple 
+feature content you? 
+
+Aud. Your features! 
+what features? 
+
+Touch. J am here with thee and thy goats, 
+as the most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was 
+among the Goths. 
+
+Jaq. [Aside] O knowledge ill-inhabited, 
+worse than Jove in a thatched house! I 
+
+Touch. When a man’s verses cannot be 
+understood, nor a man’s good wit seconded 
+with the forward child Understanding, it 
+strikes a man more dead than a great reckon- 
+ing in a little room. Truly, I would the gods 
+had made thee poetical. 
+
+Aud. I do not know what ‘poetical’ is: is 
+it honest in deed and word? is it a true thing? 
+
+Touch. \No, truly; for the truest poetry is 
+the most feigning; and lovers are given to 
+poetry, and what they swear in poetry may be 
+said as lovers they do feign. 
+
+Aud. Do you wish then that the gods had 
+made me poetical ? 
+
+Touch. I do, truly; for thou swearest to 
+me thou art honest: now, if thou wert a poet, 
+I might have some hope thou didst feign. 
+
+Aud. Would you not have me honest? 
+
+Touch. No, truly, unless thou wert hard- 
+favoured; for honesty coupled to beauty is to 
+have honey a sauce to sugar. 31 
+
+Jaq. [Aside] A material fool! 
+
+Aud. Well, I am not fair; and therefore 
+I pray the gods make me honest. 
+
+Touch. Truly, and to cast away honesty 
+upon a foul slut were to put good meat into 
+an unclean dish. 
+
+Aud. I am not a slut, though I thank the 
+gods I am foul. 3 
+
+Touch. Well, praised be the gods for thy 
+foulness! sluttishness may come hereafter. But 
+be it as it may be, I will marry thee, and to 
+that end I have been with Sir Oliver Martext, 
+the vicar of the next village, who hath promised 
+to meet me in this place of the forest and to 
+touple us. 
+
+Jaq. [Aside] I would fain see this meeting. 
+
+Aud. Well, the gods give us joy! 
+
+Touch. Amen. A man may, if he were of a 
+
+
+Lord warrant us! 
+
+
+AS YOU LIKE IT 
+
+
+[Acr II], Sc. HI 
+
+
+fearful heart, stagger in this attempt; for here 
+we have no temple but the wood, no assembly 
+but horn-beasts. But what though? Courage! 
+As horns are odious, they are necessary. It is 
+said, ‘many a man knows no end of his goods:” 
+right; many a man has good horns, and knows 
+no end of them. Well, that is the dowry of 
+his wife; ‘tis none of his own getting. Horns? 
+Even so. Poor men alone? No, no; the noblest 
+deer hath them as huge as the rascal. Is the 
+single man therefore blessed? No: as a walled 
+town is more worthier than a village, so is the 
+forehead of a married man more honourable 
+than the bare brow of a bachelor; and by how 
+much defence is better than no skill, by so 
+much is a horn more precious than to want. 
+Here comes Sir Oliver. 
+
+
+Enter Sir OutverR MartText. 
+
+
+Sir Oliver Martext, you are well met: will 
+you dispatch us here under this tree, or shall 
+we go with you to your chapel ? 
+
+Sir Oli. Is there none here to give the 
+woman ? 
+
+Touch. I will not take her on gift of any 
+man. 
+
+Sir Oli. Truly, she must be given, or the 
+marriage is not lawful. 7\ 
+
+Jaq. [Advancing] Proceed, proceed: I ‘Il 
+give her. 
+
+Touch. Good even, good Master What-ye- 
+call "t: how do you, sir? You are very well 
+met: God ‘ild you for your last company: I 
+am very glad to see you: even a toy in hand 
+here, sir: nay, pray be covered. 
+
+Jaq. Will you be married, motley? 79 
+
+Touch. As the ox hath his bow, sir, the 
+horse his curb and the falcon her bells, se 
+man hath his desires; and as pigeons bill, so 
+wedlock would be nibbling. 
+
+Jaq. And will you, being a man of your 
+breeding, be married under a bush like a 
+beggar? -Get you to church, and have a good 
+priest that can tell you what marriage is: this 
+fellow will but join you together as they join 
+wainscot; then one of you will prove a shrunk 
+panel and, like green timber, warp, warp. 90 
+
+Touch. [Aside] I am not in the mind but 
+I were better to be married of him than of 
+another: for he is not like to marry me well; 
+and not being well married, it will be a good 
+excuse for me hereafter to leave my wife. 
+
+Jaq. Go thou with me, and let me counsel 
+thee. 
+
+Touch. Come, sweet Audrey: 
+
+We must be married, or we must live in 
+bawdry. 
+Farewell, good Master Oliver: not,— 10G 
+O sweet Oliver, 
+
+
+Se 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+Act III, Sc. IV] AS YOU 
+
+
+LIKE IT 267 
+
+
+O brave Oliver, 
+Leave me not behind thee: 
+but,— 
+Wind away, 
+Begone, I say, 
+I will not to wedding with thee. 
+[Exeunt Jaques, Touchstone and Audrey. 
+Sir Oli. "Tis no matter: ne’er a fantastical 
+knave of them all shall flout me out of my 
+calling. [Exit. 
+
+
+Scene IV. The forest. 
+Enter RoSALIND and CELIA. 
+
+
+Ros. Never talk to me; | will weep. 
+
+Cel. Do, I prithee; but yet have the grace 
+to consider that tears do not become a man. 
+
+Ros. But have I not cause to weep? 
+
+Cel. As good cause as one would desire; 
+therefore weep. 
+
+
+Ros. His very hair is of the dissembling 
+colour. 
+Cel. Something browner than Judas’s: 
+
+
+marry, his kisses are Judas’s own children. 10 
+Ros. I’ faith, his hair is of a good colour. 
+Cel. An excellent ‘colour: your chestnut 
+
+was ever the only colour. 
+
+Ros. And his kissing is as full of sanctity 
+as the touch of holy bread. 
+
+Cel, He hath bought a pair of cast lips of 
+Diana: a nun of winter’s sisterhood kisses not 
+more religiously; the very ice of chastity is in 
+them. 
+
+Ros. But why did he swear he would 
+come this morning, and comes not? 21 
+
+Cel. Nay, certainly, there is no truth in 
+
+im. i 
+
+‘Ros. Do you think so? 
+
+Cel. Yes; I think he is not a pick-purse 
+nor a horse-stealer, but for his verity in love 
+I do think him as concave as a covered goblet 
+or a worm-eaten nut. 
+
+Ros. Not true in love > 
+Cel. Yes, when he is in: but I think be 
+
+
+not in. 
+
+
+Ros. You have heard him swear down- 
+right he was. 
+Cel. ‘Was’ is not ‘is:’ besides, the oath 
+
+
+of a lover is no stronger than the word of a 
+tapster; they are both the confirmer of false 
+reckonings. He attends here in the forest on 
+the duke your father. 
+
+Ros. I met the duke yesterday and had 
+much question with him: he asked me of what 
+parentage I was; I told him, of as good as he; 
+so he laughed and let me go. But what talk 
+we of fathers, when there is such a man as 
+Orlando? 
+
+Cel, O, that’s a brave man! he writes 
+brave verses, speaks brave words, swears brave 
+
+
+oaths and breaks them bravely, quite traverse, 
+athwart the heart of his lover; as a puisny 
+tilter, that spurs his horse but on one side, 
+breaks his staff like a noble goose: but all's 
+brave that youth mounts and folly guides. 
+Who comes here? 
+
+
+Enter Corin, 
+
+
+Cor. Mistress and master, you have oft in- 
+quired 
+After the shepherd that complain’d of love, 
+Who you saw sitting by me on the turf, 
+Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess 
+That was his mistress. 
+
+Cel. Well, and what of him? 
+
+Cor. If you will see a pageant truly play’d, 
+Between the pale complexion of true love 
+And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain, 
+Go hence a little and I shall conduct you, 
+
+If you will mark it. 
+
+Ros. O, come, let us remove: 
+The sight of lovers feedeth those in love. 60 
+Bring us to this sight, and you shall say 
+I'll prove a busy actor in their play. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene V. Another part of the forest. 
+Enter Sitvius and PHEBE. 
+
+
+Sil. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do 
+not, Phebe; 
+Say that you love me not, but say not so 
+In bitterness. The common executioner, 
+Whose heart the accustom’d sight of death 
+makes hard, 
+Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck 
+But first begs pardon: will you sterner be 
++Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops? 
+
+
+Enter Rosatinp, CeLia, and Corin, behind. 
+
+
+Phe. I would not be thy executioner: 
+I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. 
+Thou tell’st me there is murder in mine eye: 
+‘Tis pretty, sure, and very probable, 
+
+
+0| That eyes, that are the frail’st and softest 
+
+
+things, 
+Who shut their coward yates on atomies, 
+Should be call’d tyrants, butchers, murderers! 
+Now do I frown on thee with all my heart; 
+And if mine eyes can wound, now let them 
+kill thee: 
+Now counterfeit to swoon; why now fall 
+down; 
+Or if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame, 
+Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers! 
+Now show the wound mine eye hath made in 
+thee: 
+Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains 
+Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush, 
+The cicatrice and capable :mpiessure 
+
+
+268 AS YOU 
+
+
+LIKE IT 
+
+
+Thy palm some moment keeps; but now mine 
+eyes, ds 
+Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not, 
+Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes 
+That can do hurt. 
+Sil. O dear Phebe, 
+If ever,—as that ever may be near,— 
+You meet in some fresh cheek the power of 
+fancy, 
+Then shall you know the wounds invisible 30 
+That love’s keen arrows make. 
+Phe. But till that time 
+Come not thou near me: and when that time 
+comes, 
+Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not; 
+As till that time I| shall not pity thee. 
+Ros. And why, I pray you? Who might 
+be your mother, 
+That you insult, exult, and all at once, 
+Over the wretched? What though you have 
+no beauty,— 
+As, by my faith, I see no more in you 
+Than without candle may go dark to bed— 
+Must you be therefore proud and pitiless? 40 
+Why, what means this? Why do you look on 
+me? 
+I see no more in you than in the ordinary 
+Of nature’s sale-work. ’Od’s my little life, 
+i think she means to tangle my eyes too! 
+No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it: 
+"Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair, 
+Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream, 
+That can entame my spirits to your worship. 
+You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow 
+her, 
+Like foggy south puffing with wind and rain? 
+You are a thousand times a properer man 51 
+Than she a woman: ‘tis such fools as you 
+That makes the world full of ill-favour’d 
+children: 
+*Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her; 
+And out of you she sees herself more proper 
+Than any of her lineaments can show her. 
+But, mistress, know yourself: down on your 
+knees, 
+And thank heaven, fasting,. for a good man’s 
+love: 
+For I must tell you friendly in your ear, 59 
+Sell when you can: you are not for all markets: 
+Cry the man mercy; love him; take his offer: 
+Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer. 
+‘So take her to thee, shepherd: fare you well. 
+Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year 
+together: 
+I had rather hear you chide than this man woo. 
+Ros. He’s fallen in love with your foul- 
+ness and she'll fall in love with my anger. If 
+it be so, as fast as she answers thee with 
+frowning leeks. I'll sauce her with bitter 
+
+
+words. Why look you so upon me? 70 
+
+Phe. For no ill will I bear you. 
+
+Ros. I pray you, do not fall in love with me, 
+For I am falser than vows made in wine: 
+Besides, I like you not. If you will know my 
+
+house, 
+Tis at the tuft of olives here hard by. 
+Will you go, sister? Shepherd, ply her hard. 
+Come, sister. Shepherdess, look on him better, 
+And be not proud: though all the world could 
+see, 
+None could be so abused in sight as he. 
+Come, to our flock. 80 
+[Exeunt Rosalind, Celia and Corin, 
+Phe. Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw 
+of might, 
+“Who ever loved that loved not at first hight?’ 
+
+Sil. Sweet Phebe,— 
+
+Phe. Ha, what say’st thou, Silvius? 
+
+Sil. Sweet Phebe. pity me. 
+
+Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle 
+
+Silvius. 
+
+Sil. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be: 
+If you do sorrow at my grief in love, 
+
+By giving love your sorrow and my grief 
+Were both extermined. 
+Phe. Thou hast my love: is not that ate 
+
+
+bourly > 
+Sil. I would have you. 
+Phe. Why, that were covetousness. 
+
+
+Silvius, the time was that I hated thee, 
+
+And yet it is not that I bear thee love; 
+
+But since that thou canst talk of love so well, 
+Thy company, which erst was irksome to me, 
+I will endure, and I'll employ thee too: 
+
+But do not look”for further recompense 
+
+
+UAcr alleen 
+
+
+Than thine own gladness that thou art em- © 
+
+
+ploy’d. 
+
+Sil. So holy and perfect is my love, 
+And | in such a poverty of grace, 
+That I shall think it a most plenteous crop 
+To glean the broken ears after the man 
+That the main harvest reaps: loose now and 
+
+then 
+
+A scatter’d smile, and that I'll live upon. 
+
+Phe. Know’st thou the youth that spoke to 
+
+me erewhile? 
+
+Sil, Not very well, but I have met him oft: 
+And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds 
+That the old carlot once was master of. 
+
+Phe. Think not I love him, though I ask 
+
+for him; 
+’Tis but a peevish boy; yet he talks well; 110 
+But what care I for words? yet words do well 
+When he that speaks them pleases those that 
+hear. 
+It is a pretty youth: not very pretty: 
+But, sure, he’s proud, and yet his pride be- 
+comes him: 
+
+
+AS YOU LIKE IT 
+
+
+269 
+
+
+He'll make a proper man: the best thing in 
+
+him 
+
+Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue 
+
+Did make offence his eye did heal it up. 
+
+He is not very tall; yet for his years he’s tall: 
+
+His leg is but so so; and yet ‘tis well: 
+
+There was a pretty redness in his lip, 120 
+
+A little riper and more lusty red 
+
+Than that mix’d in his cheek; ‘twas just the 
+difference 
+
+Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask. 
+
+There be some women, Silvius, had they 
+mark’d him 
+
+In parcels as I did, would have gone near 
+
+To fall in love with him; but, for my part, 
+
+I love him not nor hate him not; and yet 
+
+I have more cause to hate him than to love 
+him: 
+
+For what had he to do to chide at me? 
+
+He said mine eyes were black and my hair 
+black; 130 
+
+_ And, now I am remember’d, scorn’d at me: 
+
+I marvel why | answer'd not again: 
+
+But that’s all one; omittance is no quittance. 
+
+1 ll write to him a very taunting letter, 
+
+And thou shalt bear it: wilt thou, Silvius> 
+
+_ Sil. Phebe, with all my heart. 
+
+Phe. I'll write it straight; 
+
+The matter’s in my head and in my heart: 
+
+I will be bitter with him and passing short. 
+
+Go with me, Silvius. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+ACT IV. 
+
+
+Scene I. The forest. 
+Enter Rosauinp, CELIA, and JaQuEs. 
+
+
+Jaq. 1 prithee, pretty youth, let me be 
+better acquainted with thee. 
+Ros. They say you are a melancholy fel- 
+low. 
+Jaq. 
+laughing. 
+Ros. Those that are in extremity of either 
+are abominable fellows and betray themselves 
+to every modern censure worse than drunkards. 
+Jaq. Why, ‘tis good to be sad and say 
+nothing. | 
+Ros. Why then, "tis good to be a post. 9 
+Jag. 1 have neither the scholar’s melan- 
+choly, which is emulation, nor the musician’s, 
+which is fantastical, nor the courtier’s, which 
+is proud, nor the soldier’s, which is ambitious, 
+nor the lawyer’s, which is politic, nor the lady’s, 
+which is nice, nor the lover’s, which is all these: 
+but it is a melancholy of mine own, compound- 
+ed of many simples, extracted from many 
+objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation 
+of my travels, in which my often rumination 
+‘wraps me in a most humorous sadness. 20 
+
+
+I am so; I do love it better than 
+
+
+Ros. A traveller! By my faith, you have 
+great reason to be sad: I fear you have sold 
+your own lands to see other men’s; then, to 
+have seen much and to have nothing, is ~* 
+have rich eyes and poor hands. 
+
+Jaq. Yes, I have gained my experience. 
+
+Ros. And your experience makes you sad 
+I had rather have a fool to make me merry} 
+than experience to make me sad; and to travel 
+for it too! 
+
+
+Enter ORLANDO, 
+
+
+Orl. Good day and happiness, dear Rosa- 
+lind! 
+
+
+Jaq. Nay, then, God be wi’ you, an you 
+talk in blank verse. [Exit. 
+Ros. Farewell, Monsieur Traveller: look 
+
+
+you lisp and wear strange suits, disable all the 
+benefits of your own country, be out of love 
+with your nativity and almost chide God for 
+making you that countenance you are, or I will 
+scarce think you have swam in a gondola. 
+Why, how now, Orlando! where have you 
+been all this while? You a lover! An you 
+serve me such another trick, never come in 
+my sight more. 4l 
+
+Orl. My fair Rosalind, I come within an 
+hour of my promise. 
+
+Ros. Break an hour's promise in love! He 
+that will divide a minute into a thousand parts 
+and break but a part of the thousandth part of 
+a minute in the affairs of love, it may be said 
+of him that Cupid hath clapped him o’ the 
+shoulder, but I "Il warrant him heart-whole. 
+
+Orl. Pardon me, dear Rosalind. 50 
+
+Ros. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no 
+more m my sight: I had as lief be wooed of 
+a snail. 
+
+Orl. Of a snail? 
+
+Ros. Ay, of a snail; for though he comes 
+slowly, he carries his house on his head; a 
+better jointure, I think, than you make a 
+woman: besides, he brings his destiny with 
+
+
+him. 
+Orl. What's that? 
+Ros. Why, horns, which such as you are 
+
+
+fain to be beholding to your wives for: but he 
+comes armed in his fortune and prevents the 
+slander of his wife. 
+
+Orl. Virtue is no horn-maker; and my 
+Rosalind is virtuous. 
+
+Ros. And I am your Rosalind. 
+
+Cel. It pleases him to call you so; but he 
+hath a Rosalind of a better leer than you. 
+
+Ros. Come, woo me, woo me, for now § 
+am in a holiday humour and like enough to 
+consent. What would you say to me now, 
+an I were your very very Rosalind? 71 
+
+
+Orl. I would kiss before I spoke. 
+
+
+270 
+
+
+LIKE IT [Act IV, Sc. 3 
+
+
+Ros. Nay, you were better speak first, and 
+when you were gravelled for lack of matter, 
+you might take occasion to kiss. Very good 
+orators, when they are out, they will spit; and 
+for lovers lacking—God warn us!—matter, 
+the cleanliest shift is to kiss. 
+
+Orl. How if the kiss be denied? 
+
+Ros. Then she puts you to entreaty, and 
+there begins new matter. 81 
+
+Orl. Who could be out, being before his 
+beloved mistress ? 
+
+Ros. Marry, that should you, if I were 
+your mistress, or I should think my honesty 
+ranker than my wit. 
+
+Orl. What, of my suit? 
+
+Ros. Not out of your apparel, and yet out 
+of your suit. Am not I your Rosalind? 
+
+Orl. I take some joy to say you are, be- 
+cause | would be talking of her. 
+
+Ros. Well, in her person I say I will not 
+have you. 
+
+Orl. Then in mine own person I die. 
+
+Ros. No, faith, die by attorney. The poor 
+world is almost six thousand years old, and in 
+all this time there was not any man died in his 
+own person, videlicet, in a love-cause. Troilus 
+had his brains dashed out with a Grecian club; 
+yet he did what he could to die before, and he 
+is one of the patterns of love. Leander, he 
+would have lived many a fair year, though 
+Hero had turned nun, if it had not been for 
+a hot midsummer night; for, good youth, he 
+went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont 
+and being taken with the cramp was drowned: 
+and the foolish chroniclers of that age found it 
+was ‘Hero of Sestos.’ But these are all lies: 
+men have died from time to time and worms 
+have eaten them, but not for love. 
+
+Orl. J would not have my right Rosalind 
+of this mind, for, I protest, her frown might 
+kill me. 
+
+Ros. By this hand, it will not kill a fly. 
+But come, now I will be your Rosalind in a 
+more coming-on disposition, and ask me what 
+you will, [ will grant it. 
+
+Orl. Then love me, Rosalind. 
+
+Ros. Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Sat- 
+
+
+urdays and all. 
+
+
+Orl. And wilt thou have me? 
+
+Ros. Ay, and twenty such. 
+
+Orl. What sayest thou? 120 
+Ros. Are you not good? 
+
+Orl. J hone so. 
+
+Ros. Why then, can one desire too much 
+
+
+of a good thing? Come, sister, you shall be 
+the priest and marry us. Give me your hand, 
+Orlando. What do you say, sister? 
+
+Orl. Pray thee, marry us. 
+
+Cel. I cannot say the words. 
+
+
+Ros. You must begin, “Will you, Orlando— 
+
+
+Cel. Go to. Will you, Orlando, have to 
+wife this Rosalind? 131 
+
+Orl. I will. 
+
+Ros. Ay, but when? 
+
+Orl. Why now; as fast as she can marry us, 
+
+
+Ros. Then you must say ‘I take thee, 
+
+
+Rosalind, for wife.’ 
+
+Orl. I take thee, Rosalind, for wife. 
+
+Ros. I might ask you for your commis- 
+sion; but I do take thee, Orlando, for my 
+husband: there’s a girl goes before the priest; 
+and certainly a woman’s thought runs before 
+her actions. 141 
+
+Ori. So do all thoughts; they are winged. 
+
+Ros. Now tell me how long you would 
+have her after you have possessed her. 
+
+Orl. For ever and a day. 
+
+Ros. Say ‘a day,’ without the ‘ever.’ No, 
+no, Orlando; men are April when they woo, 
+December when they wed: maids are May 
+when they are maids, but the sky changes 
+when they are wives. I will be more jealous 
+of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his 
+hen, more clamorous ‘than a parrot against 
+rain, more new-fangled than an ape, more 
+giddy in my desires than a monkey: | will 
+weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain, 
+and I| will do that when you are disposed to 
+be merry; I will laugh like a hyen, and that 
+when thou art inclined to sleep. ® 
+
+Orl. But will my Rosalind do so? 
+
+Ros. By my life, she will do as I do. 
+
+Orl. O, but she is wise. 160 
+
+Ros. Or elseashe could not have the wit to 
+do this: the wiser, the waywarder: make the 
+doors upon a woman’s wit and it will out ar 
+the casement; shut that and ‘twill out at the 
+key-hole; stop that, ‘twill fly with the smoke 
+
+
+out at the chimney. 
+
+
+Orl. A man that had a wife with such a 
+wit, he might say “Wit, whither wilt?’ 
+
+Ros. Nay, you might keep that check for 
+it till you met your wife’s wit going to your 
+neighbour's bed. | 
+
+
+Orl. And what wit could wit have to 
+excuse that? 
+Ros. Marry, to say she came to seek you 
+
+
+there. You shall never take her without her 
+answer, unless you take her without her tongue. 
+O, that woman that cannot make her fault her 
+husband's occasion, let her never nurse her 
+child herself, for she will breed it like a fool! 
+
+Orl. Eor these two hours, Rosalind, I will 
+leave thee. 181 
+
+Ros. Alas! dear love, I cannot lack thee 
+two hours. 
+
+Orl. J must attend the duke at dinner: by: 
+two o'clock I will be with thee again. 
+
+
+ve 
+
+
+aS Par ar, 
+
+
+. 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. IIT] AS YOU 
+
+
+LIKE IT 271 
+
+
+Ros. Ay, go your ways, go your ways; I 
+knew what you would prove: my friends told 
+me as much, and I thought no less: that flat- 
+tering tongue of yours won me: ‘tis but one 
+cast away, and so, come, death! Two o'clock 
+is your hour? 
+
+Orl. Ay, sweet Rosalind. 191 
+
+Ros. By my troth, and in good earnest, and 
+so God mend me, and by all pretty oaths that 
+are not dangerous, if you break one jot of your 
+promise or come one minute behind your hour, 
+I will think you the most pathetical break- 
+promise and the most hollow lover and the 
+most unworthy of her you call Rosalind that 
+may be chosen out of the gross band of the 
+unfaithful: therefore beware my censure and 
+keep your promise. 200 
+
+Orl. With no less religion than if thou 
+wert indeed my Rosalind: so adieu. 
+
+Ros. Well, Time is the old justice that 
+examines all such offenders, and let Time try: 
+adieu. [Exit Orlando. 
+
+Cel. You have simply misused our sex in 
+your love-prate: we must have your doublet 
+and hose plucked over your head, and show 
+the world what the bird hath done to her own 
+nest. 
+
+Ros. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, 
+that thou didst know how many fathom deep | 
+am in love! But it cannot be sounded: my 
+affection hath an unknown bottom, like the 
+bay of Portugal. 
+
+Cel. Or rather, bottomless, that as fast as 
+you pour affection in, it runs out. 
+
+Res. No, that same wicked bastard of 
+Venus that was begot of thought, conceived of 
+spleen and born of madness, that blind rascally 
+boy that abuses every one’s eyes because his 
+own are out, let him be judge how deep I am 
+in love. I'll tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be 
+out of the sight of Orlando: I'll go find a 
+shadow and sigh till he come. 
+
+Cel. And [ll sleep. 
+
+
+Scene II. The forest. 
+Enter Jaques, Lords, and Foresters. 
+Jaq. Which is he that killed the deer? 
+A Lord. Sir, it was I. 
+Jaq. Let's present him to the duke, like a 
+Roman conqueror; and it would do well to 
+et the deer’s horns upon his head, for a branch 
+
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+of victory. Have you no song, forester, for 
+this, purpose > 
+or. Yes, sir. 
+Jaq. Sing it: "tis no matter how it be in 
+tune, so it make noise enough. 10 
+
+
+Sone. 
+For. What shall he have that kill’d the deer? 
+
+
+His leather skin and horns to wear. 
+
+
+Then sing him home; 
+
+[The rest shall bear this burden, 
+Take thou no scorn to wear the horn; 
+It was a crest ere thou wast born: 
+
+Thy father’s father wore it, 
+
+Any thy father bere it: 
+
+The horn, the horn, the lusty horn 
+Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. 
+[Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene III. The forest. 
+Enter RosaLinp and CELIA, 
+
+
+Ros. How say you now? Is it not past 
+two o'clock? and here much Orlando! 
+
+Cel. I warrant you, with pure love and 
+troubled brain, he hath ta’en his bow and 
+arrows and is gone forth to sleep. Look, who 
+comes here. 
+
+
+Enter Sitvius. 
+
+
+Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth; 
+My gentle Phebe bid me give you this: 
+I know not the contents; but, as I guess 
+By the stern brow and waspish action 
+Which she did use as she was writing of it, 
+It bears an angry tenour: pardon me; 
+I am but as a guiltless messenger. 
+Ros. Patience herself would startle at this 
+letter 
+And play the swaggerer; bear this, bear all: 
+She says I am not fair, that I lack manners; 
+She calls me proud, and that she could not 
+love me, 
+Were man as rare as pheenix. ‘Od's my will! 
+Her love is not the hare that I do huat: 
+Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, 
+well, 
+This is a letter of your own device. 20 
+Sil. No, I protest, 1 know not the contents: 
+Phebe did write it. 
+Ros. Come, come, you are a fool 
+And turn'd into the extremity of love. 
+I saw her hand: she has a leathern hand, 
+A freestone-colour’d hand; I verily did think 
+That her old gloves were on, but ‘twas her 
+hands: 
+She has a huswife’s hand; but that’s no matter: 
+I say she never did invent this letter; 
+This is a man’s invention and his hand. 
+Sil. Sure, it is hers. 30 
+Ros. Why, ’tis a boisterous and a cruel style, 
+A style for challengers; why, she defies me, 
+Like Turk to Christian: women’s gentle brain 
+Could not drop ferth such giant-rude invention, 
+Such Ethiope words, blacker in their effect 
+Than in their countenance. Will you hear 
+the letter? 
+Sil. So please you, for I never heard it yet; 
+Yet heard too much of Phebe’s cruelty. 
+
+
+272 AS YOU 
+
+
+Pe 
+
+
+Ros. She Phebes me: mark how the tyrant 
+writes. [Reads. 
+Art thou god to shepherd turn’d, 40 
+That a maiden’s heart hath burn’d? 
+Can a woman rail thus? 
+Sil. Call you this railing> 
+Ros. [Reads] 
+Why, thy godhead laid apart, 
+Warr’st thou with a woman’s heart? 
+Did you ever hear such railing? 
+Whiles the eye of man did woo me, 
+That could do no vengeance to me. 
+Meaning me a beast. 
+If the scorn of your bright eyne 50 
+Have power to raise such love in mine, 
+Alack, in me what strange effect 
+Would they work in mild aspect! 
+Whiles you chid me, I did love; 
+How then might your prayers move! 
+He that brings this love to thee 
+Little knows this love in me: 
+And by him seal up thy mind; 
+Whether that thy youth and kind 
+Will the faithful offer take 
+Of me and all that I can make; 
+Or else by him my love deny, 
+And then I ‘ll study how to die. 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+Sil. Call you this chiding? 
+Cel. Alas, poor shepherd! 
+Ros. Do you pity him? no, he deserves no 
+
+
+pity. Wilt thou love such a woman? What, 
+to make thee an instrument and play false 
+strains upon thee! not to be endured! Well, 
+go your way to her, for I see love hath made 
+thee a tame snake, and say this to her: that if 
+she loves me, I charge her to love thee; if she 
+will not, I will never have her unless thou 
+entreat for her. If you be a true lover, hence, 
+and not a word: for here comes more company. 
+
+
+[Exit Silvius. 
+Enter OLIvER. 
+
+
+Oli. Good morrow, fair ones: 
+if you know, 
+Where in the purlieus of this forest stands 
+A sheep-cote fenced about with olive trees? 
+Ce]. West of this place, down in the neigh- 
+bour bottom: 
+The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream 
+Left on your right hand brings you to the place. 
+But at this hour the house doth keep itself; 
+There’s none within. 
+Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue, 
+Then should I know you by description ; 
+Sine garments and such years: * The boy is 
+air, 
+Of female favour, and bestows himself 
+Like a ripe sister: the woman low 
+And browner than her brother.’ Are not you 
+
+
+pray you, 
+
+
+LIKE IT 
+
+
+The owner of the house I did enquire for? 90 
+
+
+Cel. Itis no boast, being ask’d, to say we are. 
+Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you 
+both, 
+
+
+And to that youth he calls his Rosalind 
+He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he? 
+
+
+Ros. I am: what must we understand by 
+this > 
+Oli. Some of my shame; if you will know 
+of me 
+What man I am, and how, and why, and 
+where 
+This handkercher was stain’d. 
+Cel. I pray you, tell it. 
+Oli. When last the young Orlando parted 
+from you 
+
+
+He left a promise to return again 100 
+Within an hour, and pacing through the forest, 
+Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy, 
+Lo, what befel! he threw his eye aside, 
+And mark what object did present itself: 
+Under an oak, whose boughs were moss’d with 
+age 
+And high top bald with dry antiquity, 
+A wretched ragged man, o’ergrown with hair, 
+Lay sleeping on his back: about his neck 
+A green and gilded snake had wreathed itself, 
+Who with her head nimble in threats ap- 
+proach’d 
+The opening of his mouth; but suddenly, 111 
+Seeing Orlando, it dinlink?d itself, 
+And with indented glides did slip away 
+Into a bush: under which bush’s shade 
+A lioness, with udders all drawn dry, 
+Lay crouching, bead on ground, with catlike 
+watch, 
+When that the sleeping man should stir; for “tis 
+The royal disposition of that beast 
+To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead: 
+This seen, Orlando did approach the man 120 
+And found it was his brother, his elder brother. 
+Cel. O, I have heard him speak of that 
+same brother; 
+And he did render him the most unnatural 
+That lived amongst men. 
+Oli. And well he might so do, 
+For well I know he was unnatural. 
+Ros. But, to Orlando: did he leave him 
+there, 
+Food to the suck’d and hungry lioness? 
+Oli. Twice did he turn his back and pur- 
+posed so; 
+But kindness, nobler ever than revenge, 
+And nature, stronger than his just occasion, 
+Made him give battle to the lioness, 
+Who quickly fell before him: in which hurtling 
+From miserable slumber I awaked. 
+Cel. Are you his brother? 
+Ros. Was 't you he rescued? 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. IIT 
+
+
+Be! 
+
+
+. 
+
+
+V,Sc. 1] 
+
+
+a4 
+CT 
+
+
+AS YOU LIKE IT 
+
+
+op, ar We. 
+
+
+273 
+
+
+Cel, Was"t you that did so oft contrive to 
+kill him? 
+— Oli. "Twas I; ‘but ’tis not I: I do not shame 
+To tell you what I was, since my conversion 
+So sweetly tastes, being the thing | am. 
+Ros. But, for the bloody napkin? 
+Oli. By and by. 
+When from the first to last betwixt us two 140 
+
+
+Tears our recountments had most kindly 
+f bathed, 
+____ As how I came into that desert place:— 
+2 In brief, he led me to the gentle duke, 
+
+
+Who gave me fresh array and entertainment, 
+Committing me unto my brother’s love; 
+Who led me instantly unto his cave, 
+There stripp’d himself, and here upon his arm 
+The lioness had torn some flesh away, 
+- Which all this while had bled; and now he 
+; fainted 
+And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind. 150 
+S Brief, I recover’d him, bound up his wound; 
+And, after some small space, being strong at 
+heart, 
+He sent me hither, stranger as I am, 
+< To tell this story, that you might excuse 
+His broken promise, and to give this napkin 
+Dyed in his blood unto the shepherd youth 
+That he in sport doth call his Rosalind. 
+[Rosalind swoons. 
+Cel. Why, how now, Ganymede! sweet 
+Ganymede! 
+
+Oli. Many will swoon when they do look 
+
+on blood. 
+
+Cel. There is more in it. 
+
+mede! 
+
+Oli. Look, he recovers. 
+
+Ros. I would I were at home. 
+
+Cel. We'll lead you thither. 
+I pray you, will you take him by the arm? 
+Oli. _Be of good cheer, youth: you a man! 
+you lack a man’s heart. 
+emi eos, I do so, I confess it. Ah, sirrah, a 
+body would think this was well counterfeited! 
+I pray you, tell your brother how well I 
+counterfeited. Heigh-ho! 169 
+
+
+Oli. This was not counterfeit: there is too 
+
+
+» 
+
+
+Cousin Gany- 
+161 
+
+
+a passion of earnest. 
+2 Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you. 
+Oli. Well then, take a good heart and 
+counterfeit to be a man. 
+Ros. So I do: but, i’ faith, I should have 
+been, a woman by right. 
+Cel. Come, you look paler and paler: pray 
+you, draw homewards. Good sir, go with us. 
+Oli. That will I, for I must bear answer 
+back 
+How you excuse my brother, Rosalind. 
+
+
+Ros. I shall devise something: but, I pray | 
+
+
+you, commend my counterfeiting to him. Will 
+you go? [Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT V. 
+
+
+The forest. 
+Enter TouCHSTONE and AUDREY. 
+
+
+Touch. We shall find a time, Audrey; paw 
+tience, gentle Audrey. 
+
+Aud. Faith, the priest was good enough, 
+for all the old gentleman’s saying. 
+
+Touch. A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, 
+a most vile Martext. But, Audrey, there is a 
+youth here in the forest lays claim to you. 
+
+Aud. Ay, I know who 'tis; he hath no 
+interest in me in the world: here comes the 
+man you mean. 10 
+
+Touch. It is meat and drink to me to see 
+a clown: by my troth, we that have good wits 
+have much to answer for; we shall be flout- 
+ing; we cannot hold. 
+
+
+Enter WILLIAM. 
+
+
+Will. Good even, Audrey. 
+
+Aud. God ye good even, William. 
+
+Will. And good even to you, sir. 
+
+Touch. Good even, gentle friend. Cover 
+thy head, cover thy head; nay, prithee, be 
+covered. How old are you, friend? 20 
+
+Will. Five and twenty, sir. 
+
+Touch. A ripe age. Is thy name William? | 
+
+Will. Walliam, sir. 
+
+Touch. A fair name. 
+forest here? 
+
+Will. Ay, sir, I thank God. 
+
+Touch. “Thank God:’ a good answer. Art 
+rich ? 
+
+Will. Faith, sir, so so. 
+
+Touch. ‘So so’ is good, very good, very 
+excellent good; and yet it is not; it is but 
+so so. Art thou wise? 31 
+
+Will. Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit. 
+
+Touch. Why, thou sayest well. I do now 
+remember a saying, “The fool doth think he 
+is wise, but the wise man knows himself to 
+be a fool.’ The heathen philosopher, when 
+he had a desire to eat a grape, would open 
+his lips when he put it into his mouth; mean- 
+ing thereby that grapes were made to eat and 
+lips to open. You do love this maid? 40 
+
+Will. 1 do, sir. 
+
+Touch. Give me your hand. Art thou 
+learned? 
+
+Will. No, sir. 
+
+Touch. Then learn this of me: to have, is to 
+have; for it is a figure in rhetoric that drink, 
+being poured out of a cup into a glass, by fill- 
+ing the one doth empty the other; for all your 
+
+
+Scene I. 
+
+
+Wast born 7’ the 
+
+
+274 AS YOU 
+
+
+tact V, Sc, Il 
+
+
+LIKE IT 
+
+
+writers do consent that ipse is he: now, you 
+are not ipse, for I am he. 
+
+Will. Which he, sir? 50 
+
+Touch. He, sir, that must marry this woman. 
+Therefore, you clown, abandon,—which is in 
+the vulgar leave,—the society—which in the 
+boorish is company,—of this female,—which in 
+the common is woman; which together is, 
+abandon the society of this female, or, clown, 
+thou perishest; or, to thy better understanding, 
+diest; or, to wit, I kill thee, make thee away, 
+translate thy life into death, thy liberty into 
+bondage: I will deal in poison with thee, or in 
+bastinado, or in steel; I will bandy with thee 
+in faction; I will o'er-run thee with policy; I 
+will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways: there- 
+fore tremble, and depart. 
+
+Aud. Do, good William. 
+
+
+Will. God rest you merry, sir. [Exit. 
+
+
+Enter Corin. 
+
+
+Cor. Our master and mistress seeks you; 
+come, away, away! 
+
+Touch. Trip, Audrey! trip, Audrey! I at- 
+tend, I attend. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. The forest. 
+Enter ORLANDO and OLIVER. 
+
+
+O,I. Is’t possible that on so little acquaint- 
+ance you should like her? that but seeing you 
+should love her? and loving woo? and, wooing, 
+she should grant? and will you persever to en- 
+joy her? 
+
+Oli. Neither call the giddiness of it in ques- 
+tion, the poverty of her, the small acquaintance, 
+my sudden wooing, nor her sudden consenting; 
+but say with me, I love Aliena; say with her 
+that she loves me; consent with both that we 
+may enjoy each other: it shall be to your good; 
+for my father’s house and all the revenue that 
+was old Sir Rowland’s will I estate upon you, 
+and here live and die a shepherd. 
+
+Orl. You have my consent. Let your wed- 
+ding be to-morrow: thither will I invite the 
+duke and all’s contented followers. Go you 
+and prepare’ Aliena; for look you, here comes 
+my Rosalind. 
+
+
+Enter ROSALIND. 
+
+
+Ros. God save you, brother. 20 
+
+Oli. And you, fair sister. [Exit. 
+
+Ros. O, my dear Orlando, how it grieves 
+me to see thee wear thy heart in a scarf ! 
+
+Orl. It is my arm. 
+
+Ros. I thought thy heart had been wounded 
+with the claws of a lion. 
+
+Orl. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a 
+lady. 
+
+Ros. Did your brother tell you how I coun- 
+
+
+terfeited to swoon when he showed me your 
+handkercher ? . 30 
+
+Orl. Ay, and greater wonders than that. 
+
+Ros. O, I know where you are: nay, ‘tis true: 
+there was never any thing so sudden but the 
+fight of two rams and Ceesar’s thrasonical brag 
+of ‘I came, saw, and overcame:’ for your 
+brother and my sister no sooner met but they 
+looked, no sooner looked but they loved, no 
+sooner loved but they sighed, no sooner sighed 
+but they asked one another the reason, no sooner 
+knew the reason but they sought the remedy; 
+and in these degrees have they made a pair of 
+stairs to marriage which they will climb incon- 
+tinent, or else be incontinent before marriage: 
+they are in the very wrath of love and they 
+will together; clubs cannot part them. 
+
+Orl. They shall be married to-morrow, and 
+I will bid the duke to the nuptial. But, O, 
+how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness 
+through another man’s eyes! By so much the 
+more shall I to-morrow be at the height of 
+heart-heaviness, by how much I shall think my 
+brother happy in having what he wishes for. 
+
+Ros. Why, then, to-morrow I cannot serve 
+your turn for Rosalind? 
+
+Orl. I can live no longer by thinking. 
+
+Ros. I will weary you then no longer with 
+idle talking. Know of me then, for now I speak 
+to some purpose, that I know you are a gentle- 
+man of good conceit: I speak not this that you 
+should bear a good opinion of my knowledge, 
+insomuch I say I know you are; neither do J 
+labour for a greater esteem than may in some 
+little measure draw a belief from you, to do 
+yourself good and not to grace me. Believe 
+then, if you please, that I can do strange things: 
+I have, since I was three year old, conversed 
+with a magician, most profound in his art and 
+yet not damnable. If you do love Rosalind so 
+near the heart as your gesture cries it out, when 
+your brother marries Aliena, shall you marry 
+her: I know into what straits of fortune she is 
+driven; and it is not impossible to me, if it 
+appear not inconvenient to you, to set her before 
+your eyes to-morrow human as she is and with- 
+out any danger. 
+
+Orl. Speakest thou in sober meanings? 
+
+Ros. By my life, I do; which I tender 
+dearly, though I say I am a magician. There- 
+fore, put you in your best array; bid your 
+friends; for if you will be married to-morrow, 
+you shall, and to Rosalind, if you will. 8] 
+
+
+Enter Sttvius and PHEBE. 
+
+
+Look, here comes a lover of mine and a lover 
+of hers. 
+Phe. Youth, you have done me much un- 
+gentleness, 
+
+
+a’ 
+
+
+oe ¢ "4 
+
+
+Activ, 5c, [V] ASnvOu 
+
+
+LIKEVED © 278 
+
+
+To show the letter that I writ to you. 
+
+
+Ros. I care not if I have: it is my study 
+To seem despiteful and ungentle to you: 
+
+You are there followed by a faithful shepherd; 
+Look upon him, love him; he worships you. 
+
+Phe. Good shepherd, tell this youth what 
+
+tis to love. 
+
+Sil? It is to be all made of sighs and tears; 
+And so am I for Phebe. | 
+
+Phe. And I for Ganymede. 
+
+Orl. And I for Rosalind. 
+
+Ros. And | for no woman. 
+
+Sil. It is to be all made of faith and service; 
+And so am I for Phebe. 
+
+Phe. And | for Ganymede. 
+
+Orl. And | for Rosalind. 
+
+Ros. And I for no woman. 
+
+Sil. It is to be all made of fantasy, 100 
+All made of passion and all made of wishes, 
+All adoration, duty, and observance, 
+
+All humbleness, all patience and impatience, 
++All purity, all trial, all observance; 
+And so am I for Phebe. 
+
+Phe. And so am I for Ganymede. 
+
+Orl. And so am I for Rosalind. 
+
+Ros. And so am | for no woman. 
+
+Phe. If this be so, why blame you me to 
+love you? 110 
+
+Sil. If this be so, why blame you me to 
+love you? 
+
+Orl. If this be so, why blame you me to 
+love you? 
+
+
+Ros. Who do you speak to, “Why blame 
+
+
+"you me to love you?’ 
+
+
+Orl. To her that is not here, nor doth not 
+hear. 
+
+Ros. Pray you, no more of this; ‘tis like the 
+howling of Irish wolves against the moon. [To 
+Sil.] I will help you, if I can: [To Phe.] 1 
+
+
+would love you, if I could. To-morrow meet 
+
+
+me all together. [To Phe.] I will marry you, if 
+
+
+ever | marry woman, and I'll be married to- 
+
+
+‘morrow: [Jo Orl.] 1 will satisfy you, if ever I 
+
+
+satisfied man, and you shall be married to-mor- 
+row: [To Sil.] I will content you, if what 
+pleases you contents you, and you shall be 
+married to-morrow. [Zo Orl.] As you love 
+Rosalind, meet: [To Sil.] as you love Phebe, 
+
+
+meet: and as | love no woman, I'll meet. So 
+
+
+- fare you well: I have left you commands. 131 
+
+
+Sil. I'll not fail, if I live. 
+
+
+Phe. Nor I. 
+Qrl. Nor I. [Exeunt. 
+Scene III. The forest. 
+
+
+Enter ToucHSTONE and AUDREY. 
+
+
+Touch. To-morrow is the joyful day, 
+Audrey; to-morrow will we be married. 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+Aud. I do desire it with all my heart: and J | 
+
+
+hope it is no dishonest desire to desire to be a 
+woman of the world. Here come two of the 
+banished duke’s pages. 
+
+
+Enter two Pages. 
+
+
+First Page. Well met, honest gentleman. 
+
+Touch. By my troth, well met. Come, sit, 
+sit, and a song. 
+
+Sec. Page. We are for you: siti’ the middle, 
+
+First Page. Shall we clap into t roundly, 
+without hawking or spitting or saying we are 
+hoarse, which are the only prologues to a bad 
+voice ? 
+
+Sec. Page, I’ faith, i’ faith; and both in a 
+
+
+tune, like two gipsies on a horse. 
+
+
+Sone. 
+
+
+It was a lover and his lass, 
+
+With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, 
+That o’er the green corn-field did pass 
+
+In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, 
+When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding: 21 
+Sweet lovers love the spring. 
+
+Between the acres of the rye, 
+
+With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, 
+These pretty country folks would lie, 
+
+In spring time, &c. 
+
+This carol they began that hour, 
+
+With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, 
+How that a life was but a flower 
+
+In spring time, &c. 30 
+And therefore take the, present time, 
+
+With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino; 
+For love is crowned with the prime 
+
+In spring time, &c. 
+
+Touch. Truly, young gentlemen, though 
+there was no great matter in the ditty, yet the 
+note was very untuneable. 
+
+First Page. You are deceived, sir: we kept 
+time, we lost not our time. 
+
+Touch. By my troth, yes; I count it but 
+time lost to hear such a foolish song. God be 
+wi’ you; and God mend your voices! Come, 
+
+
+Audrey. [Exeunt. 
+Scene IV. The forest. 
+Enter DUKE senior, AMIENS, JAQUES, 
+ORLANDO, OLIVER, and CELIA, 
+Duke S. Dost thou believe, Orlando, that 
+the boy 
+Can do all this that he hath promised ? 
+Orl. I sometimes do believe, and sometimes 
+do not; 
++As those that fear they hope, and know they 
+fear. 
+Enter ROsALIND, Sitvius, and PHEBE. 
+
+
+Ros. Patience once more, whiles our com 
+pact is urged: 
+
+
+276 
+
+
+You say, if I bring in your Rosalind, 
+You will bestow her on Orlando here? 
+Duke S. That would I, had ] kingdoms to 
+give with her. 
+Ros. And you say, you will have her, when 
+I bring her? 
+Orl. That would I, were I of all kingdoms 
+king. 10 
+Ros. You say, you'll marry me, if I be will- 
+ing? 
+
+Phe. That will I, should I die the hour after. 
+Ros. But if you do refuse to marry me, 
+You ‘Il give yourself to this most faithful shep- 
+
+herd? 
+Phe. So is the bargain. 
+Ros. You say, that you'll have Phebe, if 
+she will? 
+Sil. Though to have her and death were 
+both one thing. 
+Ros, I have promised to make all this mat- 
+ter even. 
+Keep you your word, O duke, to give your 
+daughter; ¥ 
+You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter: 
+Keep your word, Phebe, that you ‘Il marry me, 
+Or else refusing me, to wed this shepherd: 
+Keep your word, Silvius, that you ‘Il marry her, 
+If she refuse me: and from hence I go, 
+To make these doubts all even. 
+[Exeunt Rosalind and Celia. 
+Duke S. 1 do remember in this shepherd boy 
+Some lively touches of my daughter’s favour. 
+Orl. My lord, the first time that I ever saw 
+him 
+Methought he was a brother to your daughter: 
+But, my good lord, this boy is forest-born, 30 
+And hath been tutor’d in the rudiments 
+Of many desperate studies by his uncle, 
+Whom he reports to be a great magician, 
+Obscured in the circle of this forest. 
+
+
+Enter ToUCHSTONE and AupREY. 
+
+
+Jaq. There is, sure, another flood toward, 
+and these couples are coming to the ark. Here 
+comes a pair of very strange beasts, which in 
+all tongues are called fools. 
+
+Touch, Salutation and greeting to you all! 
+
+Jaq. Good my lord, bid him welcome: this 
+is the motley-minded gentleman that I have so 
+often met in the forest: he hath been a courtier, 
+he swears. 
+
+Touch. If any man doubt that, let him put 
+me to my purgation. I have trod a measure; | 
+have flattered a lady; I have been politic with 
+my friend, smooth with mine enemy; I have 
+undone three tailors; I have had four quarrels, 
+and like to have fought one. 
+
+Jaq. And how was that ta’en up? 50 
+
+
+AS YOU LIKE IT 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. IV 
+
+
+Touch. Faith, we met, and found the quarrel 
+was upon the seventh cause. : 
+
+Jaq. How seventh cause? Good my lord, 
+like this fellow. 
+
+Duke S. I like him very well. 
+
+Touch, God "ild you, sir; I desire you of the 
+like. I press in here, sir, amongst the rest of 
+the country copulatives, to swear and to for- 
+swear; according as marriage binds and blood 
+breaks: a poor virgin, sir, an ill-fayoured thing, 
+sir, but mine own; a poor humour of mine, sir, 
+
+
+‘to take that that no man else will: rich honesty 
+
+
+dwells like a miser, sir, in a poor house; as 
+your pearl in your foul oyster. 
+
+Duke S. By my faith, he is very swift and 
+sententious. 
+
+Touch. According to the fool's bolt, sir, 
+and such dulcet diseases. 
+
+Jaq. But, for the seventh cause; how did 
+you find the quarrel on the seventh cause? 70 
+
+Touch. Upon a lie seven times removed:— 
+bear your body more seeming, Audrey :—as 
+thus, sir. I did dislike the cut of a certain 
+courtier’s beard: he sent me word, if I said his 
+beard was not cut well, he was in the mind it 
+was: this is called the Retort Courteous. If I 
+sent him word again ‘it was not well cut,’ he 
+would send me word, he cut it to please him- 
+self: this is called the Quip Modest. If again 
+“it was not well cut,’ he disabled my. judge- 
+ment: this is called the Reply Churlish. If 
+again ‘it was not well cut,’ he would answer; 
+I spake not true: this is called the Reproof 
+Valiant. If again ‘it was not well cut,’ he 
+would say, I lied: this is called the Counter- 
+check Quarrelsome: and so to the Lie Circum: 
+stantial and the Lie Direct. 
+
+Jaq. And how oft did you say his beard 
+was not well cut? . 
+
+Touch. I durst go no further than the Lie 
+Circumstantial, nor he durst not give me the 
+Lie Direct; and so we measured swords and 
+
+parted, 
+
+Jaq. Can you nominate in order now the 
+degrees of the lie> 
+
+Touch. O sir, we quarrel in print, by the 
+book; as you have books for good manners: I 
+will name you the degrees. The first, the Retort 
+Courteous; the second, the Quip Modest; the 
+third, the Reply Churlish; the fourth, the Re- 
+proof Valiant; the fifth, the Countercheck 
+Quarrelsome; the sixth, the Lie with Circum- 
+stance; the seventh, the Lie Direct. A\ll these 
+you may avoid but the Lie Direct; and you 
+may avoid that too, with an If. I knew wher 
+seven justices could not take up a quarrel, but 
+when the parties were met themselves, one of 
+them thought but of an If, as, ‘If you said so, 
+then I said so;’ and they shook hands and 
+
+
++a 
+
+
+‘wt tc Os ee aed 
+u a eae | 
+at 
+
+
+Pt Rerv ScAV 
+
+
+AS YOU 
+
+
+LIKE IT 277 
+
+
+swore brothers. Your If is the only peace- 
+' maker; much virtue in If. 
+Jag. Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? 
+he’s as good at any thing and yet a fool. 110 
+Duke S. He uses his folly like a stalking- 
+horse and under the presentation of that he 
+shoots his wit. 
+
+
+Enter Hymen, Rosauinp, and CELIA. 
+
+
+Stull Music. 
+
+
+Hym. Then is there mirth in heaven, 
+When earthly things made even 
+Atone together. 
+Good duke, receive thy daughter: 
+Hymen from heaven brought her, 
+Yea, brought her hither, 
+That thou mightst join her hand with his 
+Whose heart within his bosom is. 121 
+Ros. [To duke] To you | give myself, for 
+\ I am yours. 
+[Tc Orl.] To you I give myself, for I am yours. 
+Duke S. If there be truth in sight, you are 
+my daughter. 
+Orl. If there be truth in sight, you are my 
+Rosalind. 
+' Phe. If sight and shape be true, 
+Why then, my love adieu! 
+Ros. I'll have no father, if you be not he: 
+I'll have no husband, if you be not he: 
+Nor ne’er wed woman, if you be not she. 130 
+Hym. Peace, ho! I bar confusion: 
+, *Tis I must make conclusion 
+
+Of these most strange events: 
+Here’s eight that must take hands 
+To join in Hymen’s bands, 
+
+If truth holds true contents. 
+You and you no cross shall part: 
+You and you are heart in heart: 
+You to his love must accord, 
+
+oe Or have a woman to your lord: 
+
+3 You and you are sure together, 
+ee As the winter to foul weather, 
+?: _ Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing, 
+p Feed yourselves with questioning; 
+That reason wonder may diminish, 
+How thus we met, and these things finish. 
+
+
+140 
+
+
+* ies Sone. 
+
+
+Wedding is great Juno’s crown: 
+
+O blessed bond of board and bed! 
+*Tis Hymen peoples every town; 
+
+High wedlock then be honoured: 150 
+Honour, high honour and renown, 
+To Hymen, god of every town! 
+
+
+Duke. S. O my dear niece, welcome thou 
+‘, art to me! 
+Even daughter, welcome, in no less degree. 
+
+
+Phe. I will not eat my word, now thou art 
+mine; 
+Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. 
+
+
+Enter JAQUES DE Boys. 
+
+
+Jaq. de B. Let me have audience for a 
+word or two: 
+
+I am the second son of old Sir Rowland, 
+That bring these tidings to this fair assembly. 
+Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day 
+Men of great worth resorted to this forest, 161 
+Address’d a mighty power; which were on foot, 
+In his own conduct, purposely to take 
+His brother here and put him to the sword: 
+And to the skirts of this wild wood he came; 
+Where meeting with an old religious man, 
+After some question with him, was converted 
+Both from his enterprise and from the world, 
+His crown bequeathing to his banish’d brother, 
+And all their lands restored to them again 170 
+
+
+That were with him exiled. This to be true, 
+
+
+I do engage my life. 
+Duke S. Welcome, young man; 
+Thou offer’st fairly to thy brothers’ wedding: 
+To one his lands withheld, and to the other 
+A land itself at large, a potent dukedom. 
+First, in this forest let us do those ends 
+That here were well begun and well begot: 
+And after, every of this happy number 
+That have endured shrewd days and nights 
+with us 
+
+Shall share the good of our returned fortune, 
+
+According to the measure of their states. 181 
+
+Meantime, forget this new-fall’n dignity 
+
+And fall into our rustic revelry. 
+
+Play, music! And you, brides and bride- 
+grooms all, 
+
+With measure heap’d in joy, to the measures 
+fall. 
+
+Jaq. Sir, by your patience. 
+
+rightly, 
+The duke hath put on a religious life 
+And thrown into neglect the pompous court? 
+Jaq. de B. He hath. 189 
+Jag. To him will I: out of these convertites 
+There is much matter to be heard and learn’d. 
+[To duke] You to your former honour I be- 
+queath; 
+
+Your patience and your virtue well deserves it: 
+
+[To Orl.] You to a love that your true faith 
+doth merit: 
+
+[To Oli.] You to your land and love and 
+great allies: 
+
+[To Sil.] You to a long and well-deserved bed: 
+
+[To Touch.] And you to wrangling; for thy 
+loving voyage 
+
+Is but for two months victuall’d. So, to your 
+pleasures: 
+
+I am for other than for dancing measures. 
+
+
+If I heard you 
+
+
+278 AS YOU 
+
+
+Duke S. Stay, Jaques, stay. 200 
+Jaq. To see no pastime I: what you would 
+have 
+I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave. [Exit. 
+Duke S, Proceed, proceed: we will begin 
+these rites, 
+As we do trust they~ll end, in true delights. 
+[A dance. 
+
+
+EPILOGUE. 
+
+
+Ros. It is not the fashion to see the lady the 
+epilogue; but it is no more unhandsome than to 
+see the lord the prologue. If it be true that 
+good wine needs no bush, ‘tis true that a good 
+play needs no epilogue; yet to good wine they 
+do use good bushes, and good plays prove the 
+
+
+better by the help of good epilogues. What a ' farewell. 
+
+
+LIKE IT [Acr V, Se. iV 
+
+
+case am I in then, that am neither a good 
+epilogue nor cannot insinuate with you in the 
+behalf of a good play! I am not furnished like 
+a beggar, therefore to beg will not become me: 
+my way is to conjure you; and I ‘Il begin with 
+the women. I charge you, O women, for the 
+love you bear to men, to Jike as much of this 
+play as please you: and I charge you, O men, 
+for the love you bear to women—as | perceive 
+by your simpering, none of you hates them— 
+that between you and the women the play may 
+please. If I were a woman I would kiss as 
+many of you as had beards that pleased me, 
+complexions that liked me and breaths that | 
+defied not: and, I am sure, as many as have 
+good beards or good faces or sweet breaths will, 
+for my kind offer, when I make curtsy, bid me 
+[Exeunt, 
+
+
+-. THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 
+
+
+DRAMATIS 
+
+
+A Lord. 7} 
+
+CHRISTOPHER SLY, atinker. | 
+
+Hostess, Page, Players, Hunts- 
+men, and Servants. 
+
+___ BaptisTA, a rich gentleman of Padua. 
+
+
+Persons in the 
+Induction. 
+
+
+__-VINcENTIO, an old gentleman of Pisa, 
+ie? LuceNTIo, son to Vincentio, in love with 
+oh Bianca. ; 
+_ PETRUCHIO, a gentleman of: Verona, a suitor 
+re to Katharina. 
+Hy aw suitors to Bianca 
+
+_ _Hortensio, : 
+N 
+ee~ INDUCTION. 
+
+a 
+
+ay Scene I. Before an alehouse ona heath, 
+* Enter Hostess and Sty. 
+
+
+Sly. I'll pheeze you, in faith. 
+5 Host. A pair of stocks, you rogue! 
+& Sly. Ye are a baggage: the Slys are no 
+rogues; look in the chronicles; we came in 
+with Richard Conqueror. Therefore paucas 
+pallabris; let the world slide: sessa! 
+Host. You will not pay for the glasses you 
+have burst? 
+%, Sly. No, nota denier. Go by, Jeronimy: 
+go to thy cold bed, and warm thee. 10 
+Host. I know my remedy; I must go fetch 
+the third-borough. [Exit. 
+Sly. Third, fourth, or fifth borough, I "Il 
+answer him by law: Ill not budge an inch, 
+boy: let him come, and kindly. [Falls asleep. 
+
+
+Horns winded. Enter a Lorp from hunting, 
+with his train. 
+
+
+Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well 
+
+my hounds: 
+
+_ #Brach Merriman, the poor cur is emboss’d; 
+- And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth’d 
+
+ brach. : 
+
+_ Saw’st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good 
+
+At the hedge-corner, in the coldest fault? 20 
+
+I would not lose the dog for twenty pound. 
+First Hun. Why, Belman is as good as he, 
+
+my lord; 
+
+He tried upon it at the merest loss 
+
+And twice to-day pick’d out the dullest scent: 
+
+Trust me, I take him for the better dog. 
+
+Lord. Thou art a fool: if Echo were as 
+fleet, 
+
+
+PERSONE 
+
+
+TRANIO, 
+BIONDELLO, 
+Sethe t servants to Petruchio. 
+A Pedant. 
+KaTHARINA, the shrew, 
+BIANCA, 
+Widow. 
+Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants attending 
+on Baptista and Petruchio. 
+Scene: Padua, and Petruchio’s couniry 
+house. 
+
+
+t servants to Lucentio. 
+
+
+t daughters to Baptisia. 
+
+
+I would esteem him worth a dozen such. 
+But sup them well and look unto them al!: 
+To-morrow I intend to hunt again. 
+First Hun. 1 will, my lord. 30 
+Lord, What's here? one dead, or drank? 
+See, doth he breathe? 
+Sec. Hun. He breathes, my lord. Were he 
+not warm'd with ale, 
+This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly. 
+Lord. O monstrous beast! how like a swine 
+he lies! 
+Grim death, how ‘fou! and loathsome is thine 
+image! 
+Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man. 
+What think you, if he were cvavey’d to bed, 
+Wrapp’d in sweet clothes, rings put upon his 
+fingers, 
+A most delicious banquet by his bed. 
+And brave attendants near him when he wakes, 
+Would not the beggar then forget himself? 41 
+First Hun. Believe me, lord, I think he 
+cannot choose. 
+Sec. Hun. It would seem strange unto him 
+when he waked. past: 
+Lord. Even as a flattering dream or worth-’ 
+less fancy. 
+Then take him up and manage well the jest: 
+Carry him gently to my fairest chamber 
+And hang it round with ail my wanton pic- 
+tures: 
+Balm his roul head in warm distilled waters 
+And burn sweet wood to make the lodging 
+sweet: 
+Procure me music ready when he wakes, 56 
+To make a dulcet and a heavenly sound; 
+And if he chance to speak, be ready straight 
+And with a low submissive reverence 
+
+
+219 
+
+
+280 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 
+
+
+Say ‘What is it your honour will command?’ 
+Let one attend him with a silver basin 
+Full of rose-water and bestrew'd with flowers; 
+Another bear the ewer, the third a diaper, 
+And say ‘Will’t please you lordship cool 
+your hands?’ 
+Some one be ready with a costly suit 
+And ask him what apparel he will wear; 60 
+Another tell him of his hounds and horse, 
+And that his lady mourns at his disease: 
+Persuade him that he hath been lunatic; 
++And when he says he is, say that he dreams, 
+For he is nothing but a mighty lord. 
+This do and do it kindly, gentle sirs: 
+It will be pastime passing excellent, 
+If it be husbanded with modesty. 
+First Hun. My lord, I warrant you we will 
+play our part, 
+As he shall think by our true diligence 70 
+He is no less than what we say he is. 
+Lord. Take him up gently and to bed with 
+him; 
+And each one to his office when he wakes. 
+[Some bear out Sly. .4 trumpet sounds. 
+Sirrah, go see what trumpet ‘tis that sounds: 
+[Exit Servingman. 
+Belike, some noble gentleman that means, 
+Travelling some journey, to repose him here. 
+
+
+Re-enter Servingman. 
+
+
+How now! who is it? 
+
+Serv. An’t please your honour, players 
+That offer service to your lordship. 
+
+Lord. Bid them come near. 
+
+
+Enter Players. 
+
+
+Now, fellows, you are welcome. 
+
+
+Players. We thank your honour, 80 
+
+Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to- 
+night? 
+
+A Player. So please your lordship to ac- 
+cept our duty. 
+
+Lord. With all my heart. This fellow I 
+remember, 
+
+
+Since once he play’d a farmer's eldest son: 
+
+“Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman so 
+well: 
+
+I have forgot your name; but, sure, that part 
+
+Was aptly fitted and naturally perform’d. 
+
+A Player. | think "twas Soto that your 
+
+honour means. 
+
+Lord. ‘Tis very true: thou didst it excellent. 
+Well, you are come to me in happy time; 90 
+The rather for 1 have some sport in hand 
+Wherein your cunning can assist me much. 
+There is a lord will hear you play to-night: 
+But I am doubtful of your modesties; 
+
+Lest over-eyeing of his odd behaviour,— 
+For yet his honour never heard a play— 
+
+
+You break into some merry passion 
+And so offend him; for I tell you, sirs, 
+If you should smile he grows impatient. 
+A Player. Fear not, my lord: we can ccn- 
+tain ourselves, 100 
+Were he the veriest antic in the world. 
+
+Lord. Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery, 
+And give them friendly welcome every one: 
+Let them want nothing that my house affords. 
+
+[Exit one with the Players. 
+Sirrah, go you to Barthol’mew my page, 
+And see him dress’d in all suits like a lady: 
+That done, conduct him to the drunkard’s 
+chamber; 
+And call him ‘madam,’ do him obeisance. 
+Tell him from me, as he will win my love, 
+He bear himself with honourable action, 110 
+Such as he hath observed in noble ladies 
+Unto their lords, by them accomplished: 
+Such duty to the drunkard let him do 
+With soft low tongue and lowly courtesy, 
+And say ‘What is’t your honour will com: 
+mand, 
+Wherein your lady and your humble wife 
+May show her duty and make known her 
+love?’ 
+And then with kind embracements, tempting 
+kisses, 
+And with declining head into his bosom, 
+Bid him shed tears, as being overjoy'd 
+To see her noble lord restored to health, 
+Who for this seven years hath esteemed him 
+No better than a poor and loathsome beggar: 
+And if the boy have not a woman’s gift 
+To rain a shower of commanded tears, 
+An onion will do well for such a shift, 
+Which in a napkin being close convey'd 
+Shall in despite enforce a watery eye. 
+See this dispatch’d with all the haste thou 
+canst: 
+Anon I'll give thee more instructions. 130 
+[Exit a Servingman. 
+I know the boy will well usurp the grace, 
+Voice, gait and action of a gentlewoman: 
+I long to hear him call the drunkard husband, 
+And how my men will stay themselves from 
+laughter 
+When they do homage to this simple peasant. 
+I'll in to counsel them; haply my presence 
+May well abate the over-merry spleen 
+Which otherwise would grow into extremes. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+A bedchamber in the Lorp's 
+house. 
+
+
+Enter aloft Sty, with Attendants; some with 
+apparel, others with basin and ewer and 
+other appurtenances; and Lord. 
+
+
+Sly. For God's sake, a pot of small ale. 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+Scene II. 
+
+
+_ [Inpuction, Sc. II: 
+
+
+Inpuction, Sc. II] 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 
+
+
+281. 
+
+
+First Serv. Will’t please your lordship 
+
+drink a cup of sack? 
+
+Sec. Serv. Will’t please your honour taste 
+
+of these conserves > 
+
+Third Serv. What 
+
+honour wear to-day? 
+
+Sly. 1 am Christophero Sly; call not me 
+‘honour’ nor ‘lordship: I ne’er drank sack in 
+my life; and if you give me any conserves, 
+give me conserves of beef: ne'er ask me what 
+raiment I "Il wear; for I have no more doublets 
+than backs, no more stockings than legs, nor 
+no more shoes than feet; nay, sometime more 
+feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look 
+through the over-leather. 
+
+Lord. Heaven cease this idle humour in 
+
+your honour! 
+O, that a mighty man of such descent, 
+Of such possessions and so high esteem, 
+Should be infused with so foul a spirit! 
+
+Sly. What, would you make me mad? Am 
+not I Christopher Sly, old Sly’s son of Bur- 
+tonheath, by birth a pedlar, by education a 
+cardmaker, by transmutation a bear-herd, 
+and now by present profession a tinker? Ask 
+Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if 
+she know me not: if she say I am not fourteen 
+pence on the score for sheer ale, score me up 
+for the lyingest knave in Christendom. What! 
+I am not bestraught: here’s— 
+
+Third Serv. O, this it is that makes your 
+
+lady mourn! 
+
+Sec. Serv. O, this is it that makes your 
+
+servants droop! 
+
+Lord. Hence comes it that your kindred 
+
+shuns your house, 30 
+As beaten hence by your strange lunacy. 
+O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth, 
+Call home thy ancient thoughts from banish- 
+ment 
+And banish hence these abject lowly dreams. 
+Look how thy servants do attend on thee, 
+Each in his office ready at thy beck. 
+Wilt thou have music? hark! Apollo plays 
+[Music. 
+And twenty caged nightingales do sing: 
+Ory wilt thou sleep? we ‘Il have thee to a couch 
+Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed 40 
+On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis. 
+Say thou wilt walk; we will bestrew the 
+ground: 
+Or wilt thou ride? thy horses shall be trapp’d, 
+Thejr harness studded all with gold and pearl. 
+Dost thou love hawking? thou hast hawks will 
+soar 
+Above the morning lark: or wilt thou hunt? 
+Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer 
+
+
+raiment will your 
+
+
+them 
+And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth. 
+
+
+First Serv. Say thou wilt course; thy grey- 
+hounds are as swift : 
+As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe. 50 
+
+Sec. Serv. Dost thou love pictures? we will 
+
+fetch thee straight 
+
+Adonis painted by the running brook, 
+
+And Cytherea all in sedges hid, 
+
+Which seem to move and wanton with her 
+breath, 
+
+Even as the waving sedges play with wind. 
+
+Lord. We'll show thee Io as she was a 
+
+maid, 
+
+And how she was beguiled and surprised, 
+
+As lively painted as the deed was done. 
+
+Third Serv. Or Daphne roaming through 
+
+a thorny wood, 
+
+Scratching her legs that one shall swear she 
+bleeds, 
+
+And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep, 
+
+So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn. 
+
+Lord. Thou art a lord and nothing but a 
+
+lord: 
+Thou hast a lady far more beautiful 
+Than any woman in this waning age. 
+First Serv. And till the tears that she hath 
+shed for thee 
+Like envious floods o’er-run her lovely face, 
+She was the fairest creature in the world; 
+And yet she is inferior to none. 
+
+Sly. Am I a lord? and have I such a lady? 
+Or do I dream? or have I dream’d till now > 
+I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak; 
+
+I smell sweet savours and I feel soft things: 
+
+Upon my life, 1 am a lord indeed 
+
+And not a tinker nor Christophero Sly. 
+
+Well, bring our lady hither to our sight; 
+
+And once again, a pot o’ the smallest ale. 
+
+Sec. Serv. Will’t please your mightiness 
+
+to wash your hands? 
+
+O, how we joy to see your wit restored! 79 
+
+O, that once more you knew but what you are! 
+
+These fifteen years you have been in a dream; 
+
+Or when you waked, so waked as if you 
+slept. 
+
+Sly. These fifteen years! by my fay, a 
+
+goodly nap. 
+But did I never speak of all that time? 
+
+First Serv. O, yes, my lord, but very idle 
+
+words: 
+For though you lay here in this goodly cham- 
+ber, 
+Yet would you say ye were beaten out of door; 
+And rail upon the hostess of the house; 
+And say you would present her at the leet. 
+Because she brought stone jugs and no seal'd 
+quarts: 90 
+Sometimes you would call out for Cicely 
+Hacket. 
+Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the house. 
+
+
+282 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 
+
+
+<a RS) ae ae 
+ra me Vee, 
+r ays 
+
+
+Third Serv. Why, sir, you know no house 
+nor no such maid, 
+Nor no such men as you have reckon'd up, 
+As Stephen Sly and old John Naps of Greece 
+And Peer Turph and Henry Pimpernell 
+And twenty more such names and men as 
+these 
+Which never were nor no man ever saw. 
+Sly. Now Lord be thanked for my good 
+amends! 
+Ail, Amen. 100 
+Sly. I thank thee: thou shalt not lose by it: 
+
+
+' Enter the Page as a lady, with attendants. 
+
+
+Page. How fares my noble lord? 
+Sly. Marry, I fare well; for here is cheer 
+enough, 
+Where is my wife? 
+Page. Here, noble lord: what is thy will 
+
+
+with her? 
+Sly. Are you my wife and will not call me 
+husband > 
+My men should call me ‘lord:’ 1 am your 
+good-man. 
+
+
+Page. My husband and my lord, my lord 
+and husband; 
+I am your wife in all obedience. 
+Sly. 1 know it well. What must I call her> 
+Lord. Madam. 111 
+Sly. Al’ce madam, or Joan madam? 
+Lord. ‘Madam,’ and nothing else: so lords 
+call ladies. 
+Sly. Madam wife, they say that I have 
+dream'd 
+And slept above some fifteen year or more. 
+Page. Ay, and the time seems thirty unto 
+me, 
+Being all this time abandon’d from your bed. 
+Sly. "Tis much. Servants, leave me and 
+her alone. 
+Madam, undress you and come now to bea. 
+Page. Thrice-noble lord, let me entreat of 
+you 120 
+To pardon me yet for a night or two, 
+Or, if not so, until the sun be set: 
+For your physicians have expressly charged, 
+In peril to incur your former malady, 
+That I should yet absent me from your bed: 
+a hope this reason stands for my excuse. 
+“Sly. Ay, it stands so that I] may hardly 
+larry so long. But J would be loath to fall 
+into my dreams again: I will therefore tarry 
+
+
+in despite of the flesh and the blood. 130 
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+Mess. Your honour's players, hearing your 
+amendment, 
+Are come to play a pleasant comedy; 
+For so your doctors hold it very meet, 
+
+
+Seeing too much sadness hath congeal’d your 
+blood, 
+And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy :- 
+Therefore they thought it good you hear a 
+play 
+And frame your mind to mirth and merriment, 
+ee bars a thousand harms and lengthens 
+ife. 
+Sly. Marry, I will, let them play it. Is not 
+a comonty a Christmas gambold or a tum- 
+bling-trick > 141 
+Page. No, my good lord; it is more pleas- 
+ing stuff. 
+Sly. What, household stuff > 
+Page. It is a kind of history. 
+Sly. Well, we'll see’t. Come, madam 
+wife, sit by my side and let the world slip: 
+we shall ne’er be younger. 
+
+
+Flourish, 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+Scene I. Padua. A public place. 
+
+
+Enter Lucentio and his man TRANIO. 
+Luc. Tranio, since for the great desire I had 
+To see fair Padua, nursery of arts, 
+I am arrived for fruitful Lombardy, 
+The pleasant garden of great Italy; 
+And by my father’s love and leave am arm'd 
+With his good will and thy good company, 
+My trusty servant, well approved in all, 
+Here let us breathe and haply institute 
+A course of learning and ingenious studies, 
+Pisa renown'd for grave citizens 10 
+Gave me my being and my father first, 
+A merchant of great traffic through the world, 
+Vincentio, come of the Bentivolii. 
+Vincentio’s son brought up in Florence 
+It shall become to serve all hopes conceived, 
+To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds: 
+And therefore, Tranio, for the time I study, 
+Virtue and that part of philosophy 
+‘Will I apply that treats of happiness 
+By virtue specially to be achieved, 
+Tell me thy mind; for I have Pisa left 
+And am to Padua come, as he that leaves 
+A shallow plash to plunge him in the deep 
+And with satiety seeks to quench his thirst. 
+Tra. Mi perdonato, gentle master mine, 
+I am in all affected as yourself; 
+Glad that you thus continue your resolve 
+To suck the sweets of sweet philosophy. 
+Only, good master, while we do admire 
+This virtue and this moral discipline, 36 
+Let's be no stoics nor no stocks, I pray; 
+Or so devote to Aristotle’s checks 
+As Ovid be an outcast quite abjured: 
+Balk logic with acquaintance that you have 
+And practise rhetoric in your common talk; 
+Music and poesy use to quicken you; 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+[Act I, Sc. I | 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 
+
+
+oe 
+283 
+
+
+_ The mathematics and the metaphysics, 
+Fall to them as you find your stomach serves 
+you; 
+No profit grows where is no pleasure ta’en: 
+In brief, sir, study what you most affect. 40 
+Luc. Gramercies, Tranio, well dost thou 
+advise. 
+If, Biondello, thou wert come ashore, 
+We could at once put us in readiness, 
+And take a lodging fit to entertain 
+Such friends as time in Padua shall beget. 
+But stay a while: what company is this? 
+Tra. Master, some show to welcome us to 
+town. 
+
+
+Enter Baptista, 
+Gremio, and Horrtensio. 
+' TRanio stand by. 
+
+
+KaTHARINA, BIANCA, 
+LuceNTIo and 
+
+
+Bap. Gentlemen, importune me no farther, 
+For how I firmly am resolved you know: 
+That is, not to bestow my youngest daughter 
+Before I have a husband for the elder: 51 
+If either of you both love Katharina, 
+
+Leave shall you have to court her at your 
+pleasure. 
+
+Gre. [Aside] To cart her rather: she’s too 
+
+rough for me. 
+There, there, Hortensio, will you any wife? 
+
+Kath. \ pray you, sir, 1s it your will 
+To make a stale of me amongst these mates? 
+
+Hor. Mates, maid! how mean you that? 
+
+no mates for you, 
+Unless you were of gentler, milder mould. 60 
+
+Kath. V faith, sir, you shall never need to 
+
+fear: 
+I wis it is not half way to her heart; 
+But if it were, doubt not her care should be 
+To comb your noddle with a three-legg'd stool 
+And paint your face and use you like a 
+fool. 
+
+Hor. From all such devils, good Lord de- 
+
+liver us! 
+
+Gre. And me too, good Lord } 
+
+Tra. Hush, master! here’s some good pas- 
+
+time toward: 
+That wench is stark mad or wonderful fro- 
+ward. 
+
+Luc. But in the other’s silence do I seé 70 
+Maid’s mild behaviour and sobriety. 
+
+Peace, Tranio! 
+
+Tra. Well said, master; mum! and gaze 
+
+your fill. 
+
+Bap. Gentlemen, that I may soon make good 
+What I have said, Bianca, get you in 
+And let it not displease thee, good Bianca, 
+For I will love thee ne'er the less, my girl. 
+
+Kath. A pretty peat! it is best 
+Put finger in the eye, an she knew why. 
+
+Bian. Sister, content you in my discontent. 
+
+
+Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe: 81 
+My books and instruments shall be my com- 
+pany, 
+On them to look and practise by myself. 
+Luc. Hark, Tranio! thou~may’st hear 
+Minerva speak. 
+Hor. Signior Baptista, 
+strange ? 
+Sorry am I that our good will effects 
+Bianca's grief. 
+
+Gre. Why will you mew her up, 
+Signior Baptista, for this fiend of hell, 
+
+And make her bear the penance of her tongue? 
+
+Bap. Gentlemen, content ye; | am resolved: 
+Go in, Bianca: [Exit Bianca. 91 
+And for I know she taketh most delight 
+In music, instruments and poetry, 
+Schoolmasters will I keep within my house, 
+Fit to instruct her youth. If you, Hortensio, 
+Or Signior Gremio, you, know any such, 
+Prefer them hither; for to cunning men 
+I will be very kind, and liberal 
+To mine own children in good bringing up: 
+And so farewell. Katharina, you may stay; 
+For I have more to commune with Bianca. 
+
+[Exit. 
+
+Kath. Why, and I trust I may go too, may 
+I not? What, shall I be appointed hours; as 
+though, belike, I knew not what to take, and 
+what to leave, ha? [Exit. 
+
+Gre. You may go to the devil's dam: your 
+gifts are so good, here’s none will hold you. 
+Their love is not so great, Hortensio, but we 
+may blow our nails together, and fast it fairly 
+out: our cake’s dough on both sides. Fare- 
+well: yet, for the love I bear my sweet Bianca, 
+if I can by any means light on a fit man to 
+teach her that wherein she delights, I will wish 
+him to her father. 
+
+Hor. So will I, Signior Gremio; but a 
+word, I pray. Though the nature of our quar- 
+rel yet never brooked parle, know now, upon 
+advice, it toucheth us both, that we may yet 
+again have access to our fair mistress and be 
+happy rivals in Bianca's love, to labour and 
+effect one thing specially. 121 
+
+Gre. What's that, I pray? 
+
+Hor. Marry, sir, to get a husband for her 
+her sister. 
+
+Gre. A husband! a devil. 
+
+Hor. I say, a husband. 
+
+Gre. I say, a devil. Thinkest thou, Hor- 
+tensio, though her father be very rich, any 
+man is so very a fool to be married to hell? 
+
+Hor. Tush, Gremio, though it pass your 
+patience and mine to endure her loud alarums, 
+why, man, there be good fellows in the world, 
+an a man could light on them, would take her 
+with all her faults, and money enough, 
+
+
+will you be so 
+
+
+284 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 
+
+
+[Act I, Sc. I 
+
+
+Gre. 1 cannot tell; but I had as lief take 
+her dowry with this condition, to be whipped at 
+the high cross every morning. 
+
+Hor. Faith, as you say, there’s small choice 
+in rotten apples. But come; since this bar in 
+law makes us friends, it shall be so far forth 
+friendly maintained tll by helping Baptista’s 
+eldest daughter to a husband we set his young- 
+est free for a husband, and then have to't 
+afresh, Sweet Bianca! Happy man be his 
+dole! He that runs fastest gets the ring, 
+How say you, Signior Gremio? 
+
+Gre. I am agreed; and would have given 
+him the best horse in Padua to begin his woo- 
+ing that would thoroughly woo her, wed her 
+and bed her and rid the house of her. Come 
+on. 150 
+
+[Exeunt Gremio and Hortensio. 
+
+Tra. I pray, sir, tell me, is it possible 
+That love should of a sudden take such 
+
+hold ? 
+
+Luc. O Tranio, till I found it to be true, 
+
+I never thought it possible or likely; 
+
+But see, while idly I stood looking on, 
+
+I found the effect of love in idleness: 
+And now in plainness do confess to thee, 
+That art to me as secret and as dear 
+
+As Anna to the queen of Carthage was, 
+Tranio, I burn, I pine, I perish, Tranio, 
+If I achieve not this young modest girl. 
+Counsel me, Tranio, for I know thou canst; 
+Assist me, Tranio, for I know thou wilt. 
+
+Tra. Master, it is no time to chide you now; 
+Affection is not rated from the heart: 
+
+If love have touch’d you, nought remains but 
+so, 
+*Redime te captum quam queas minimo.” 
+
+Luc. Gramercies, lad, go forward; this 
+
+contents: 
+The rest will comfort, for thy counsel’s sound. 
+
+Tra. Master you look’d so longly on the 
+
+maid, 170 
+Perhaps you mark’d not what's the pith of all. 
+
+Luc. O yes, I saw sweet beauty in her face, 
+Such as the daughter of Agenor had, 
+
+That made great Jove to humble him to her 
+hand, 
+
+When with his knees he kiss’d the Cretan 
+strand. 
+
+Tra. Saw you no more? mark'd you not 
+
+how her sister 
+Began to scold and raise up such a storm 
+That mortal ears might hardly endure the din? 
+
+Luc. Tranio, I saw her coral lips move 
+And with her breath she did perfume the air: 
+Sacred and sweet was all I saw in her. 
+
+Tra. Nay, then, ‘tis time to stir him from 
+
+his trance. 
+I pray, awake, sir: if you love the maid. 
+
+
+160 
+
+
+Bend thoughts and wits to achieve her. Thus 
+it stands: 
+
+Her elder sister is so curst and shrewd 
+
+That till the father rid his hands of her, 
+
+Master, your love must live a maid at home; 
+
+And therefore has he closely mew'd her up, 
+
+Because she will not be annoy'd with suitors. 
+Luc. Ah, Tranito, what a cruel father’s he! 
+
+But art thou not advised, he took some care 
+
+To get her cunning schoolmasters to instruct 
+
+
+her? 
+
+Tra. Ay, marry, am I, sir; and now ‘tis 
+plotted. 
+
+Luc. I have it, Tranio. 
+
+Tra. Master, for my hand, 
+
+
+Both our inventions meet and jump in one. 
+Luc. Tell me thine first. ; 
+Tra. You will be schoolmaster 
+
+And undertake the teaching of the maid: 
+
+That's your device. 
+
+Luce. It is: may it be done? 
+
+Tra. Not possible; for who shall bear your 
+
+part, 
+
+And be in Padua here Vincentio’s son, 200 
+
+Keep house and ply his book, welcome his 
+
+friends, 
+
+Visit his countrymen and banquet them? 
+Luc. Basta; content thee, for I have it full- 
+
+We have not yet been seen in any house, 
+
+Nor can we be distinguish’d by our faces 
+
+For man or master; then it follows thus; 
+
+Thou shalt be master, Tranio, in my stead, 
+
+Keep house and port and servants, as I should: 
+
+I will some other be, some Florentine, 
+
+Some Neapolitan, or meaner man of Pisa. 210 
+
+‘Tis hatch’d and shall be so: Tranio, at once 
+
+Uncase thee; take my colour’d hat and cloak: 
+
+When Biondello comes, he waits on thee; 
+
+But I will charm him first to keep his tongue. 
+Tra. So had you need. 
+
+In brief, sir, sith it your pleasure is, 
+
+And | am tied to be obedient; 
+
+Because so well I love Lucentio. 
+
+For so your father charged me at our parting, 
+
+“Be serviceable to my son,’ quoth he, 
+
+Although I think ‘twas in another sense; 
+
+I am content to be Lucentio. 
+
+Because so well I love Lucentio. 
+
+Luc. Tranio, be so, because Lucentio loves. 
+And let me be a slave, to achieve that maid 
+Whose sudden sight hath thrall’d my wounded 
+
+eye. 
+
+Here comes the rogue. 
+
+Zater BIONDELLO. 
+Sirrah, where have you been? 
+
+Bion. Where have I been! Nay, how now! 
+
+
+220 
+
+
+where are you? Master, has my fellow Tranio 
+
+
+stolen your clothes? Or stolen you his? or 
+both? pray, what's the news? 230 
+
+
+Act I, Sc. IT] 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 
+
+
+285 
+
+
+Luc. 
+Jest, 
+
+And therefore frame your manners to the time. 
+Your fellow Tranio here, to save my life, 
+Puts my apparel and my countenance on, 
+And I for my escape have put on his; 
+For in a quarrel since | came ashore 
+I kill’d a man and fear I was descried: 
+Wait you on him, | charge you, as becomes, 
+While I make way from hence to save my 
+
+
+Sirrah, come hither: ‘tis no time to 
+
+
+life: 
+You understand me? 
+Bion. I, sir! ne’er a whit. 240 
+
+
+Luc. And nota jot of Tranio in your mouth: 
+Tranio is changed into Lucentio. 
+
+
+Bion. The better for him: would I were 
+so too! 
+Tra. So could |, faith, boy, to have the 
+
+
+next wish after, 
+That Lucentio indeed had Baptista’s youngest 
+daughter. 
+But, sirrah, not for my sake, but your mas- 
+ter’s, I advise 
+You use your manners discreetly in all kind of 
+companies: 
+When I am alone, why, then I am Tranio; 
+But in all places else your master Lucentio. 
+Luc. Tranio, let’s go: one thing more rests, 
+that thyself execute, to make one among these 
+wooers: if thou ask me why, sufficeth, my rea- 
+sons are both good and weighty. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+The presenters above speak. 
+
+
+First Serv. My lord, you nod; you do not 
+mind the play. 
+Sly. Yes, by Saint Anne, do I. A good 
+matter, surely: comes there any more of it? 
+Page. My lord, ‘tis but begun. 
+Sly. ‘Tis a very excellent piece of work, 
+madam lady: would ‘twere done! 259 
+[They sit and mark. 
+
+
+Padua. Before Hortensio’s 
+house. 
+
+
+Scene II. 
+
+
+Enter Petrucuio and his man GRumio, 
+
+
+Pet. Verona, for a while | take my leave, 
+To see my friends in Padua, but of all 
+My best beloved and approved friend, 
+Hortensio; and [| trow this is his house. 
+Here, sirrah Grumio; knock, I say. 
+
+Gru. Knock, sir! whom should I knock? is 
+there any man has rebused your worship ? 
+
+Pet, Villain, I say, knock me here soundly. 
+
+Gru. Knock you here, sir! why, sir, what 
+am I, sir, that I should knock you here, sir? 
+
+Pet. Villain, I say, knock me at this gate 
+And rap me well, or I'll knock your knave's 
+
+pate, 
+
+
+Gru. My master is grown quarrelsome. | 
+should knock you first, 
+And then I know after who comes by the 
+worst, 
+Pet. Will it not be? 
+Faith, sirrah, an you ‘ll not knock, I ‘ll ring it; 
+I'll try how you can sol, fa, and sing it. 
+[He wrings him by the ears. 
+
+
+Gru. Help, masters, help! my master is 
+mad. 
+
+Pet. Now, knock when I bid you, sirrah 
+villain! : 19 
+
+
+Enter Hortensio. 
+
+
+Hor. How now! what's the matter? 
+old friend Grumio! and my good friend 
+Petruchio! How do you all at Verona? 
+
+Pet. Signior Hortensio, come you to part 
+
+the fray? 
+“Con tutto il cuore, ben trovato,’ may I say. 
+
+Hor. ‘Alla nostra casa ben yenuto, molto 
+honorato signor mio Petruchio.’ 
+
+Rise, Grumio, rise: we will compound this 
+quarrel. 
+
+Gru. Nay, ‘tis no matter, sir, what he ‘leges 
+in Latin. If this be not a lawful cause for me 
+to leave his service, look you, sir, he bid me 
+knock him and rap him soundly, sir: well, 
+was it fit for a servant to use his master so, 
+being perhaps, for aught I see, two and thirty, 
+a pip out? 
+pice would to God I had well knock’d at 
+
+rst, 
+Then had not Grumio come by the worst. 
+
+Pet. A senseless villain. Good Hortensio, 
+I bade the rascal knock upon your gate 
+And could not get him for my heart to do it. 
+
+Gru. Knock at the gate! O heavens! 
+Spake you not these words plain, ‘Sirrah, 
+knock me here, rap me here, knock me well, 
+and knock me soundly’? And come you now 
+with, ‘knocking at the gate’? 
+
+Pet. Sirrah, be gone, or talk not, I advise 
+
+
+My 
+
+
+you. 
+Hor. Petruchio, patience; I am Grumio’s 
+pledge: 
+Why, this’s a heavy chance ‘twixt him and 
+you, 
+
+
+Your ancient, trusty, pleasant servant Grumio. 
+
+And tell me now, sweet friend, what happy 
+gale 
+
+Blows you to Padua here from old Verona? 
+
+Pet. Such wind as scatters young men 
+
+through the world 50 
+
+To seek their fortunes further than at home 
+
+Where small experience grows. But in a few, 
+
+Signior Hortensio, thus stands it with me: 
+
+Antonio, my father, is deceased: 
+
+And I have thrust myself into this maze, 
+
+
+286 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 
+
+
+Ba Rig Lies Boab ate ee wb 
+vie fll ae ah 
+
+
+[Act I, Se. H 
+
+
+Haply to wive and thrive as best I may: 
+Crowns in my purse I have and goods at home, 
+And so am come abroad to see the world. 
+
+Hor. Petruchio, shall 1 then come roundly 
+
+to thee . 
+And wish thee to a shrewd ill-favour’d wife? 
+Thou ‘Idst thank me but a little for my counsel: 
+And yet I'll promise thee she shall be rich 
+And very rich: but thou 't too much my friend, 
+And I'll not wish thee to her. 
+Pet. Signior Hortensio, ‘twixt such friends 
+as we 
+Few words suffice; and therefore, if thou know 
+One rich enough to be Petruchio’s wife, 
+As wealth is burden of my wooing dance, 
+Be she as foul as was Florentius’ love, 
+As old as Sibyl and as curst and shrewd 70 
+As Socrates’ Xanthippe, or a worse, 
+She moves me not, or not removes, at least, 
+Affection’s edge in me, were she as rough 
+As are the swelling Adriatic seas: 
+I come to wive it wealthily in Padua; 
+If wealthily, then happily in Padua. 
+
+Gru. Nay, look you, sir, he tells you flatly 
+what his mind is: why, give him gold enough 
+and marry him to a puppet or an aglet-baby; 
+* or an old trot with ne’er a tooth in her head, 
+though she have as many diseases as two and 
+fifty horses: why, nothing comes amiss, so 
+money comes withal. 
+
+Hor. Petruchio, since we are stepp’d thus 
+
+far in, 
+I will continue that I broach’d in jest. 
+I can, Petruchio, help thee to a wife 
+With wealth enough and young and beauteous, 
+Brought up as best becomes a gentlewoman: 
+Her only fault, and that is faults enough, 
+Is that she is intolerable curst 
+And shrewdand froward, so beyondall measure 
+That, were my state far worser than it is, 91 
+I would not wed her for a mine of gold. 
+Pet. Hortensio, peace! thou know’st not 
+gold’s effect: 
+Tell me her father’s name and ‘tis enough; 
+For I will board her, though she chide as loud 
+As thunder when the clouds in autumn crack, 
+Hor. Her father is Baptista Minola, 
+An affable and courteous gentleman: 
+Her name is Katharina Minola, 
+Renown’d in Padua for her scolding tongue. 
+
+Pet. | know her father, though I know not 
+
+her; enh OF 
+And he knew my deceased father well. 
+I will not sleep, Hortensio, till I see her; 
+And therefore let me be thus bold with you 
+To give you over at this first encounter, 
+Unless you will accompany me thither. 
+
+Gru. I pray you, sir, let him go while the 
+humour lasts. O' my word, an she knew him 
+
+
+as well as I do, she would think scolding 
+would do little good upon him: she may per- 
+haps call him half a score of knaves or so: 
+why, that’s nothing; an he begin once, he ‘Il 
+rail in his rope-tricks. I "Il tell you what, sir, 
+and she stand him but a little, he will throw 
+a figure in her face and so disfigure her with 
+it that she shall have no more eyes to see 
+withal than a cat. You know him not, sir. 
+Hor. Tarry, Petruchio, I must go with thee, 
+For in Baptista’s keep my treasure is: | 
+He hath the jewel of my life in hold, 
+His youngest daughter, beautiful Bianca, 120 
+And her withholds from me and other more, 
+Suitors to her and rivals in my love, 
+Supposing it a thing impossible, 
+For those defects I have before rehearsed, 
+That ever Katharina will be woo'd; 
+Therefore this order hath Baptista ta’en, 
+That none shall have access unto Bianca 
+Till Katharine the curst have got a husband, 
+Gru. Katharine the curst! 
+A title for a maid of all titles the worst. 130 
+Hor. Now shall my friend Petruchio do 
+me grace, 
+And offer me disguised in sober robes 
+To old Baptista as a schoolmaster 
+Well seen in music, to instruct Bianca; 
+That so I may, by this device, at least 
+Have leave and leisure to make love to her 
+And unsuspected court her by herself. 
+Gru. Here’s no knavery! See, to beguile 
+the old folks, how the young folks lay their 
+heads together! 140 
+
+
+Enter Gremio, and LucEnTio disguised. 
+
+
+Master, master, look about you: who goes — 
+
+
+there, ha? 
+Hor. Peace, Grumio! it is the rival of my 
+love. 
+Petruchio, stand by a while. 
+Gru. A proper stripling and an amorous! 
+Gre. O, very well; I have perused the note. 
+Hark you, sir; I'll have them very fairly 
+bound: 
+All books of love, see that at any hand; 
+And see you read no other lectures to her: 
+You understand me: over and beside 
+Signior Baptista’s liberality, 150 
+I ‘ll mend it with a largess. Take your paper 
+too, 
+And let me have them very well perfumed: 
+For she is sweeter than perfume itself 
+To whom they go to. What will you read 
+to her? 
+Luc. Wate'er I read to her, I'll plead for 
+you : 
+As for my patron, stand you so assured, 
+As firmly as yourself were still in place: 
+
+
+-— 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+as 
+
+
+Act I, Sc. Il] 
+
+
+; Yea, and perhaps with more successful words 
+
+
+Than you, unless you were a scholar, sir. 
+Gre. O this learning, what a thing it is! 
+Gru. O this woodcock, what an ass it is! 
+Pet. Peace, sirrah! 
+
+Hor. Grumio, mum! God save you, Signior 
+10. 
+Gre. And you are well met, Signior Hor- 
+tensio. 
+Trow you whither I am going? To Baptista 
+Minola. 
+
+I promised to inquire carefully 
+
+About a schoolmaster for the fair Bianca: 
+
+And by good fortune I have lighted well 
+
+On this young man, for learning and be- 
+
+haviour 
+
+Fit for her turn, well read in poetry 170 
+
+And other books, good ones, I warrant ye. 
+Hor. "Tis well; and I have met a gentle- 
+
+man 
+
+Hath promised me to help me to another, 
+
+A fine musician to instruct our mistress; 
+
+So shall I no whit be behind in duty 
+
+To fair Bianca, so beloved of me. 
+
+Gre. Beloved of me; and that my deeds 
+shall prove. 
+
+Gru. And that his bags shall prove. 
+
+Hor. Gremio, ’tis now no time to vent our 
+love: 
+
+Listen to me, and if you speak me fair, 180 
+
+I'll tell you news indifferent good for either. 
+
+Here is a gentleman whom by chance I met, 
+
+Upon agreement from us to his liking, 
+
+Will undertake to woo curst Katharine, 
+
+Yea, and to marry her, if her dowry please. 
+Gre. So said, so done, is well. 
+
+Hortensio, have you told him all her faults? 
+Pet. 1 know she is an irksome brawling 
+
+scold: 
+
+If that be all; masters, I hear no harm. 
+
+
+Gre. No, say'st me so, friend? What coun- | 
+190 | 
+
+
+tryman > 
+Pet. Born in Verona, old Antonio’s son: 
+My father dead, my fortune lives for me; 
+And I do hope good days and long to see. 
+‘Gre. O sir, such a life, with such a wife, 
+were strange! 
+But if you have a stomach, to’t i’ God’s 
+“ name: 
+
+
+- You shall have me assisting you in all. 
+
+
+But will you woo this wild-cat? 
+Pet. Will I live? 
+Gru. Will he woo her? ay, or I'll hang 
+‘her. 
+
+Pet. Why came I hither but to that tent? 
+Think you a little din can daunt mine ears ? 
+Have I not in my time heard lions roar? 201 
+‘Have I not heard the sea puff'd up with winds 
+Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat? 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 
+
+
+287 
+
+
+Have I-not heard great ordnance in the field, 
+And heaven’s artillery thunder in the skies? 
+Have I not in a pitched battle heard 
+Loud ’larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets’ 
+clang > 
+And do you tell me of a woman's tongue, 
+That gives not half so great a blow to hear 
+As will a chestnut in a farmer's fire? 210 
+Tush, tush! fear boys with bugs. 
+Gru. For he fears none. 
+Gre. Hortensio, hark: 
+This gentleman is happily arrived, 
+My mind presumes, for his own good and 
+ours. 
+Hor. | promised we would be contributors 
+And bear his charge of wooing, whatsoe’er. 
+Gre. And so we will, provided that he win 
+her. 
+Gru. I would I were as sure of a good 
+dinner. 
+
+
+Enter Tranio brave, and BIoNDELLO. 
+
+
+Tra. Gentlemen, God save you. If I may 
+be bold, 
+Tell me, I beseech you, which is the readiest 
+way 
+To the house of Signior Baptisa Minola? 221 
+Bion. He that has the two fair daughters: 
+is’ t he you mean? 
+Tra. Even he, Biondello. 
+Gre. Hark you, sir: you mean not her to— 
+Tra. Perhaps, him and her, sir: what have 
+you to do? 
+Pet. Not her that chides, sir, at any hand, 
+I pray 
+
+
+Tra. 1 ‘ay no chiders, sir. Biondello, let ’s 
+
+
+away. 
+Luc. Well begun, Tranio. 
+Hor. Sir, a word ere you go; 
+Are you a suitor to the maid you talk of, yea 
+or no> 230 
+Tra. And if I be, sir, is it any offence ? 
+Gre. No; if without more words you will 
+get you hence. 
+Tra. Why, sir, I pray, are not the streets 
+
+
+as free 
+For me as for you? 
+Gre. But so is not she. 
+
+
+Tra. For what reason, I beseech you? 
+Gre. For this reason, if you ‘Il know, 
+That she’s the choice love of Signior Gremio. 
+Hor. That she’s the chosen of Signior 
+Hortensio. 
+Tra. Softly, my masters! if you be gentle- 
+men, 
+Do me this right; hear me with patience. 
+Baptista is a noble gentleman, 
+To whom my father is not all unknown; 
+And were his daughter fairer than ‘she is, 
+
+
+240 
+
+
+288 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 
+
+
+[Act II, Sc. 1 
+
+
+She may more suitors have and me for one. 
+Fair Leda’s daughter had a thousand wooers; 
+Then well one more may fair Bianca have: 
+And so she shall; Lucentio shall make one, 
+‘Though Paris came in hope to speed alone. 
+Gre. What! this gentleman will out-talk 
+us all. 
+Luc. Sir, give him head: I know he'll 
+prove a jade. 
+Pet. Hortensio, to what end are all these 
+words? 250 
+Hor. Sir, let me be so bold as ask you, 
+Did you yet ever see Baptista’s daughter ? 
+Tra. No, sir; but hear I do that he hath 
+two, 
+‘The one as famous for a scolding tongue 
+As is the other for beauteous modesty. 
+
+
+Pet. Sir, sir, the first’s for me; let her 
+go by. 
+
+Gre. Yea, leave that labour to great Her- 
+cules; 
+
+
+And let it be more than Alcides’ twelve. 
+Pet. Sir, understand you this of me in 
+sooth: 
+The youngest daughter whom you hearken for 
+Her father keeps from all access of suitors, 
+And will not promise her to any man 
+Until the elder sister first be wed: 
+The younger then is free and not before. 
+Tra. If it be so, sir, that you are the man 
+Must stead us all and me amongst the rest, 
+And if you break the ice and do this feat, 
+Achieve the elder, set the younger free 
+For our access, whose hap shall be to have her 
+Will not so graceless be to be ingrate. 270 
+Hor. Sir, you say well and well do you 
+conceive; 
+And since you do profess to be a suitor, 
+‘You must, as we do, gratify this gentleman, 
+fo whom we all rest generally beholding. 
+Tra. Sir, I shall not be slack: in sign 
+whereof, 
+Please ye we may contrive this afternoon, 
+And quaff carouses to our mistress’ health, 
+And do as adversaries do in law, 
+Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends. 
+Gru. Bion. O excellent. motion! Fellows, 
+lets be gone. 280 
+Hor. The motion’s good indeed and be it 
+
+
+so, 
+Petruchio, I shall be your ben venuto. 
+
+
+[Exeunt. 
+ACT II. 
+Scene I. Padua. A room in BaPpTisTa’s 
+house. 
+
+
+Enter KATHARINA and BIANCA. 
+
+
+Bian. Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong 
+yourself, 
+
+
+To make a bondmaid and a slave of me; 
+That I disdain: but for these other gawds, 
+Unbind my hands, I'll pull them off myself, 
+Yea, all my raiment, to my petticoat; 
+Or what you will command me will I do, 
+So-well 1 know my duty to my elders, 
+Kath. Of all thy suitors, here 1 charge thee, 
+tell 
+Whom thou lovest best: see thou dissemble 
+not. 
+Bian. Believe, me, sister, of all the men 
+alive 
+I never yet beheld that special face 
+Which { could fancy more than any other. 
+Kath. Minion, thou liest. Is’t not Hor- 
+tensio? 
+Bian. If you affect him, sister, here I swear 
+I'll plead for you myself, but you shall have 
+him. 
+Kath. O then, belike, you fancy riches more: 
+You will have Gremio to keep you fair. 
+Bian. Is it for him you do envy me so? 
+Nay then you jest, and now I well perceive 
+You have but jested with me all this while: 20 
+J prithee, sister Kate, untie my hands. 
+Kath. If that be jest, then all the rest was so. 
+[Strikes her. 
+
+
+Enter Baptista. 
+
+
+Bap. Why, how now, dame! whence grows 
+this insolence? : 
+Bianca, stand aside. Poor girl! she weeps. 
+Go ply thy needle; meddle not with her. 
+For shame, thou hilding of a devilish spirit, 
+Why dost thou wrong her that did ne’er wrong 
+thee? 3 
+When did she cross thee with a bitter word? 
+Kath. Her silence flouts me, and I'll be 
+
+
+revenged, [Flies after Bianca. 
+Bap. What, in my sight? Bianca, get thee 
+in. [Exit Bianca. 30 
+Kath. What, will you not suffer me? Nay, 
+
+
+now I see 
+
+She is your treasure, she must have a husband; 
+I must dance bare-foot on her wedding day 
+And for your love to her lead apes in hell. 
+Talk not to me: I will go sit and weep 
+Till I can find occasion of revenge.  [Exit. 
+
+Bap. Was ever gentleman thus grieved as 
+I? But who comes here? 
+
+
+Enter Gremio, Lucentio in the habit of a 
+mean man; PETRUCHIO, with HorTENsIO 
+as a musician; and TRANIO, with Bion- 
+DELLO bearing a lute and books. 
+
+
+Gre. Good morrow, neighbour Baptista. 
+Bap. Good morrow, neighbour Gremio. 
+God save you, gentlemen! 4] 
+Pet. And you, good sir! Pray, have you 
+not a daughter 
+
+
+a a 
+
+
+Act Il, Se. I] 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 289 
+
+
+Call’d Katharina, fair and virtuous? 
+
+Bap. I have a daughter, sir, called Kath- 
+
+arina. 
+
+Gre. You are too blunt: go to it orderly. 
+
+Pet, You wrong me, Signior Gremio: give 
+
+me leave. 
+{ am a gentleman of Verona, sir, 
+That, hearing of her beauty and her wit, 
+Her affability and bashful modesty, 
+Her wondrous qualities and mild behaviour, 
+Am bold to show myself a forward guest 
+Within your house, to make mine eye the wit- 
+ness 
+Of that report which I so oft have heard. 
+And, for an entrance to my entertainment, 
+I do present you with a man of mine, 
+[Presenting Hortensio. 
+Cunning in music and the mathematics, 
+To instruct her fully in those sciences, 
+Whereof I know she is not ignorant: 
+Accept of him, or else you do me wrong: 
+His name is Licio, born in Mantua. 
+Bap. You’re welcome, sir; and he, for 
+your good sake. 
+But for my daughter, Katharine, this I know, 
+She is not for your turn, the more my grief. 
+
+Pet. I see you do not mean to part with her, 
+Or else you like not of my company. 
+
+Bap. Mistake me not; | speak but as I find. 
+Whence are you, sir? what may I call your 
+
+name > 
+
+Pet. Petruchio is my name; Antonio’s son, 
+A man well known throughout all Italy. 
+
+Bap. | know him well: you are welcome 
+
+for his sake. 70 
+
+Gre. Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray, 
+Let us, that are poor petitioners, speak too: 
+Beccare! you are marvellous forward. 
+
+Pet. O, pardon me, Signior Gremio; I 
+
+would fain be doing. 
+
+Gre. I doubt it not, sir; but you will curse 
+
+your wooing. 
+
+Neighbour, this is a gift very grateful, I am 
+sure of it. To express the like kindness, my- 
+self, that have been more kindly beholding to 
+you than any, freely give unto you this young 
+scholar [presenting Lucentio], that hath been 
+long studying at Rheims; as cunning in Greek, 
+Latin, and other languages, as the other in 
+music and mathematics: his name is Cambio; 
+pray, accept his service. 
+
+Bap. A thousand thanks, Signior Gremio. 
+Welcome, good Cambio. [To Tranio] But, 
+gentle sir, methinks you walk like a stranger: 
+may I be so bold to. know the cause of your 
+coming ? 
+
+Tra. Pardon me, sir, the boldness is mine 
+
+own, 
+That, being a stranger in this city here. 90 
+
+
+Do make myself a suitor to your daughter, 
+Unto Bianca, fair and virtuous. 
+Nor is your firm resolve unknown to me, 
+In the preferment of the eldest sister. 
+This liberty is all that 1 request, ° 
+That, upon knowledge of my parentage, 
+I may have welcome ‘mongst the rest that woo 
+And free access and favour as the rest: 
+And, toward the education of your daughters, 
+I here bestow a simple instrument, 00 
+And this small packet of Greek and Latin 
+books: 
+If you accept them, then their worth is great. 
+Bap. Lucentio is your name; of whence, ] 
+pray? 
+Tra. Of Pisa, sir; son to Vincentio. 
+Bap. A mighty man of Pisa; by report 
+I know him well: you are very welcome, sir. 
+Take you the lute, and you the set of books: 
+You shall go see your pupils presently. 
+Holla, within! 
+
+
+Enter a Servant. 
+
+
+Sirrah, lead these gentlemen 
+To my daughters; and tell them both, 110 
+These are their tutors: bid them use them well, 
+[Exit Servant, with Lucentio and Hortensio, 
+Biondello following. 
+We will go walk a little in the orchard, 
+And then to dinner. You are passing welcome, 
+And so I pray you all to think yourselves. 
+Pet, Signior Baptista, my business asketh 
+haste, 
+And every day I cannot come to woo. 
+You knew my father well, and in him me, 
+Left solely heir to all his lands and goods, 
+Which I have better’d rather than decreased: 
+Then tell me, if I get your daughter’s love, 
+What dowry shall I have with her to wife> 
+Bap. After my death the one half of my 
+lands, 
+And in possession twenty thousand ‘crowns. 
+Pet. And, for that dowry, I ‘Il assure her of 
+Her widowhood, be it that she survive me, 
+In all my lands and leases whatsoever: 
+Let specialties be therefore drawn between us. 
+That conyenants may be kept on either hand. 
+Bap. Ay, when the special thing is well ob- 
+tain'd, 
+That is, her love; for that is all in all. 130 
+Pet. Why, that is nothing; for I tell you, 
+father, 
+I am as peremptory as she proud-minded; 
+And where two raging fires meet together 
+TR do consume the thing that feeds their 
+ury: 
+Though little fire grows great with little wind, 
+Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all: 
+So I to her and so she yields to m2: 
+
+
+290 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 
+
+
+[Ace ly Sed 
+
+
+For I am rough and woo not like a babe. 
+Bap. Well mayst thou woo, and happy be 
+thy speed! 
+But be thou arm’d for some unhappy words. 
+Pet. Ay; to the proof; as mountains are for 
+winds, 
+That shake not, though they blow perpetually. 
+
+
+Re-enter Hortensi0, with his head broke. 
+
+
+Bap. How now, my friend! why dost thou 
+look so pale? 
+Har. For fear, | promise you, if I look pale. 
+Bap. What, will my daughter prove a good 
+musician ? 
+Hor. 1 think she ‘ll sooner prove a soldier: 
+{ron may hold with her, but never lutes, 
+Bap. Why, then thou canst not break her 
+to the lute? 
+Hor. Why, no; for she hath broke the lute 
+to me. 
+I did but tell her she mistook her frets, 150 
+And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering; 
+When, with a most impatient devilish spirit, 
+‘Frets, call you these?’ quoth she; ‘I ‘ll fume 
+
+
+with them:’ 
+
+And, with that word, she struck me on the 
+head, 
+
+And through the instrument my pate made 
+
+
+way; 
+And there I stood amazed for a while, 
+As on a pillory, looking through the lute; 
+While she did call me rascal fiddler 
+And twangling Jack; with twenty, such vile 
+terms, 
+As had she studied to misuse me so. 160 
+Pet. Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench; 
+I love her ten times more than e’er | did: 
+O, how I long to have some chat with her! 
+Bap. Well, go with me and be not so dis- 
+comfited: 
+Proceed in practice with my younger daughter; 
+She’s apt to learn and thankful for good turns, 
+Signior Petruchio, will you go with us, 
+Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you? 
+Pet. ‘I pray you do. [Exceunt all but Petru- 
+chio.] .I will attend her here, 169 
+And woo her with some spirit when she comes. 
+Say that she rail; why then I'll tell her plain 
+She sings as sweetly as a nightingale: 
+Say that she frown; I'll say she looks as clear 
+As morning roses newly wash'd with dew: 
+Say she be mute and will not speak a word; 
+Then I ‘ll commend her volubility, 
+And say she uttereth piercing eloquence: 
+lf she do bid me pack, I'll give her thanks, 
+As though she bid me stay by her a week: 
+If she deny to wed, I Il crave the day 180 
+When I shall ask the banns and when be 
+
+
+married, 
+
+
+But here she comes; and now, Petruchio. 
+speak, 
+
+
+Enter KATHARINA. ) 
+
+
+Good morrow, Kate; for that’s your name, | 
+hear. 
+Kath. Well have you heard, but something 
+hard of hearing: 
+They call me Katharine that do talk of me. 
+Pet. You lie, in faith; for you are call’d 
+plain Kate, 
+And bonny Kate and sometimes Kate the 
+curst; 
+But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom, 
+Kate of Kate Hall, my super-dainty Kate, 
+For daintiest are all Kates, and therefore, Kate. 
+Take this of me, Kate of my consolation; 191 
+Hearing thy mildness praised in every town, 
+Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded, 
+Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs, 
+Myself am moved to woo thee for my wife, 
+Kath. Moved! in good time: let him that 
+moved you hither 
+Remove you hence: | knew you at the first 
+You were a moveable. 
+
+
+Pet. Why, what’s a moveable? 
+
+Kath. A join’d-stool, 
+
+Pet. Thou hast hit it: come, sit on me. 
+
+Kath. Asses are made to bear, and so are 
+you. 200 
+
+Pet. Women are made to bear, and so are 
+you. P 
+
+
+Kath. No such jade as you, if me you mean. 
+Pet. Alas! good Kate, I will not burden 
+thee; 
+For, knowing thee to be but young and light— 
+Kath. Too light for such a swain as you to 
+catch; 
+And yet as heavy as my weight should be. 
+Pet. Should be! should—buzz! 
+
+
+Kath. Well ta’en, and like a buzzard. 
+
+Pet. © slow-wing’d turtle! shall a buzzard 
+take thee? 
+
+Kath. Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buz- 
+zard. ; 
+
+Pet. Come, come, you wasp; 1’ faith, you 
+are too angry. 210 
+
+Kath. If I be waspish, best beware my 
+sting. 
+
+
+Pet. My remedy is then, to pluck it out. 
+
+
+Kath. Ay, if the fool could find it where — 
+
+
+it lies. 
+Pet. Who knows not where a wasp does 
+wear his sting? In his tail. 
+Kath. In his tongue. 
+Pet. Whose tongue? 
+Kath. Yours, if you talk of tails: and so 
+farewell. 
+
+
+VC aoe ee 
+
+
+Wea 
+~ Act Il, Sc 1] 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 
+
+
+251 
+
+
+Pet. What, with my tongue in your tail? 
+U nay, come again, 
+Good Kate; I am a gentleman. 
+Kath. That I'll try. [She strikes him, 220 
+Pet. 1 swear I'll cuff you, if you strike 
+again. 
+Kath. So may you lose your arms: 
+If you strike me, you are no gentleman; 
+And if no gentleman, why then no arms. 
+Pet. A herald, Kate? O, put me in thy 
+books. 
+Kath. What is your crest? a coxcomb ? 
+Pet. A combless cock, so Kate will be my 
+hen, 
+» ‘Kath. No cock of mine; you crow too like 
+a craven. 
+Pet. Nay, come, Kate, come; you must not 
+look so sour, 
+Kath. It is my fashion, when I see a crab. 
+Pet. Why, here’s no crab; and therefore 
+look not sour. 231 
+4 Kath. There is, there is. 
+Pet. Then show it me. 
+¥ Kath. Had | a glass, | would. 
+Pet. What, you mean my face? 
+| Kath. Well aim’d of such a young one. 
+Pet. Now, by Saint George, | am too young 
+for you. 
+Kath. Yet you are wither'd. 
+Pet. "Tis with cares. 
+Kath, 1 care not. 
+Pei. Nay, hear you, Kate: in sooth you 
+ys scape not so. 
+Kath. I chafe you, if I tarry: let me go. 
+Pet. No, not a whit: I find you passing 
+gentle. 
+"Twas told me you were rough and coy and 
+j sullen, 
+- And now I find report a very liar; 
+For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing cour- 
+
+
+240 
+
+
+teous, 
+
+But slow in speech, yet sweet as spring-time 
+flowers: 
+
+Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look 
+askance, 
+
+
+Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will, 250 
+
+Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk, 
+
+But thou with mildness entertain’st thy woo- 
+ers, 
+
+With gentle conference, soft and affable. 
+Why does the world report that Kate doth 
+limp? ‘ 
+
+O slanderous world! Kate like the hazel-twig 
+Is straight and slender and as brown in hue 
+As hazel nuts and sweeter than the kernels. 
+O, let me see thee walk: thou dost not halt. 
+Kath. Go, fool, and whom thou keep’st 
+command. 
+Pet, Did ever Dian so become a grove 260 
+
+
+As Kate this chamber with her princely gait? 
+O, be thou Dian, and let her be Kate; 
+And then let Kate be chaste and Dian sport- 
+ful! 
+Kate. Where did you study all this goedly 
+speech ? 
+Pet. It is extempore, from my mother-wit. 
+Kath. A witty mother! witless else her son. 
+Pet. Am I not wise? 
+Kath. Yes; keep you warm. 
+Pet. Marry, so | mean, sweet Katharine, in 
+thy bed: 
+And therefore, setting all this chat aside, 270 
+Thus in plain terms: your father hath con- 
+sented 
+That you shall be my wife; your dowry ‘greed 
+on; 
+And, will you, nill you, I will marry you. 
+Now, Kate, I am a husband for your turn; 
+For, by this light, whereby I see thy beauty, 
+Thy beauty, that doth make me like thee well, 
+Thou must be married to no man but me; 
+For I am he am born to tame you, Kate, 
+And bring you from a wild Kate to a Kate 
+Conformable as other household Kates. 280 
+Here comes your father: never make denial}; 
+I must and will have Katharine to my wife. 
+
+
+Re-enter Baptista, Gremio, and TRANiC. 
+
+
+Bap. Now, Signior Petruchio, how speed 
+you with my daughter ? 
+Pet. How but well, sir? how but well? 
+
+It were impossible I should speed amiss. 
+Bap. Why, how now, daughter Katharine! 
+
+in your dumps? 
+Kath, Call you me daughter? now, I prom- 
+ise you, 
+
+You have show’d a tender fatherly regard, 
+
+To wish me wed to one half lunatic; 
+
+A mad-cap ruffian and a swearing Jack, 290 
+
+That thinks with oaths to face the matter out. 
+Pet. Father, ‘tis thus: yourself and all the 
+
+world, 
+
+That talk’d of her, have talk’d amiss of her: 
+
+If she be curst, it is for policy, 
+
+For she’s not froward, but modest as the deve; 
+
+She is not hot, but temperate as the morn; 
+
+For patience she will prove a second Grissel, 
+
+And Roman Lucrece for her chastity: 
+
+And to conclude, we have ‘greed so well io- 
+
+gether, 
+That upon Sunday is the wedding-day. 300 
+Kath. I'll see thee hang’d on Sunday frst. 
+Gre. Hark, Petruchio; she says she ‘l] see 
+thee hang’d first. 
+
+Tra. Is this your speeding? nay, then, good 
+night our part! 
+
+Pet. Be patient, gentlemen; I choose her 
+for myself: 
+
+
+292 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 
+
+
+[Act II, Se. I 
+
+
+If she and I be pleased, what’s that to you? 
+"Tis bargain'’d "twixt us twain, being alone, 
+That she shall still be curst in company. 
+
+I teil you, ‘tis incredible to believe 
+
+How much she loves me: O, the kindest Kate! 
+
+She hung about my neck; and kiss on kiss 310 
+
+She vied so fast, protesting oath on oath, 
+
+That in a twink she won me to her love. 
+
+you are novices! ‘tis a world to see, 
+ow tame, when men and women are alone, 
+
+A meacock wretch can make the curstest shrew. 
+
+Give me thy hand, Kate: I will unto Venice, 
+
+To buy apparel ‘gainst the wedding-day. 
+
+Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests; 
+
+I will be sure my Katharine shall be fine. 
+Bap. 1 know not what to say: but give me 
+
+your hands; 320 
+
+God send you joy, Petruchio! ‘tis a match. 
+
+Gre. Tra. Amen, say we: we will be wit- 
+nesses. 
+Pet, Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu; 
+
+I will to Venice; Sunday comes apace: 
+
+We will have rings and things and fine array; 
+
+And kiss me, Kate, we will be married o’ 
+
+Sunday. 
+
+[Exeunt Petruchio and Katharina severally. 
+
+Gre. Was ever match clapp’d up so sud- 
+denly ? 
+
+Bap. Faith, gentlemen, now I play a mer- 
+chant’s part, 
+
+Ajnd venture madly on a desperate mart. 
+
+Tra. "Twas a commodity lay fretting by 
+you: 
+
+"Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas. 
+Bap. The gain I seek is, quiet in the match. 
+Gre. No doubt but he hath got a quiet catch. 
+
+But now, Baptista, to your younger daughter: 
+
+Now is the day we long have looked for: 
+
+{ am your neighbour, and was suitor first. 
+Tra. And I am one that love Bianca more 
+
+Than words can witness, or your thoughts can 
+
+guess. 
+Gre. Youngling, thou canst not love so 
+dear as I. 339 
+Tra. Greybeard, thy love doth freeze. 
+Gre. But thine doth fry. 
+
+Skipper, stand back: ‘tis age that nourisheth. 
+
+Tra. But youth in ladies’ eyes that flour- 
+isheth. 
+
+Bap. Content you, gentlemen: I will com- 
+pound this strife: 
+
+"Tis deeds must win the prize; and he of both 
+
+That can assure my daughter greatest dower 
+
+Shall have my Bianca’s love. 
+
+Say, Signior Gremio, what can you assure her ? 
+Gre. First, as you know, my house within 
+
+the city 
+
+Is richly furnished with plate and gold; 
+
+Basins and ewers to lave her dainty hands: 
+
+
+My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry; 
+In ivory coffers I have stuff’'d my crowns; 
+In cypress chests my arras counterpoints, 
+Costly apparel, tents, and canopies, 
+Fine linen, Turkey cushions boss’d with pearl, 
+Valance of Venice gold in needlework, 
+Pewter and brass and all things that belong 
+To house or housekeeping: then, at my farm 
+I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail, 
+Sixscore fat oxen standing in my stalls, 360 
+And all things answerable to this portion. 
+Myself am struck in years, I must confess; 
+And if I die to-morrow, this is hers, 
+If whilst I live she will be only mine. 
+Tra. That ‘only’ came well in. 
+to me: 
+I am my father’s heir and only son: 
+If I may have your daughter to my wife, 
+I'll leave her houses three or four as good, 
+Within rich Pisa walls, as any one 
+Old Signior Gremio has in Padua; 370 
+Besides two thousand ducats by the year 
+Of fruitful land, all which shall be her join- 
+ture. 
+What, have I pinch’d you, Signior Gremio? 
+Gre. Two thousand ducats by the year of 
+land! 
+My land amounts not to so much in all: 
+That she shall have; besides an argosy 
+That now is lying in Marseilles road. 
+What, have I choked you with an argosy ? 
+Tra. Gremio, ‘tis known my father hath no 
+less 
+Than three great argosies; besides two gal- 
+liases, 
+And twelve tight galleys: these will I assure 
+her, 
+And twice as much, whate’er thou offer’st next. 
+Gre. Nay, I have offer'd all, I have no 
+more; 
+And she can have no more than all I have: 
+If you like me, she shall have me and mine. 
+Tra. Why, then the maid is mine from all 
+the world, 
+By your firm promise: Gremio is out-vied. 
+Bap. I must confess your offer is the best; 
+And, let your father make her the assurance, 
+She is your own; else, you must pardon me, 
+If you should die before him, where's her 
+dower? 
+Tra. That's but a cavil: he is old, I young, 
+Gre. And may not young men die, as well 
+as old? 
+Bap. Well, gentlemen, 
+I am thus resolved: on Sunday next you know 
+My daughter Katharine is to be married: 
+Now, on the Sunday following, shall Bianca 
+Be bride to you, if you make this assurance; 
+If not, to Signior Gremio: 
+
+
+Sir, list 
+
+
+. 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+Her sister Katharine welcomed you withal > 
+
+
+Act III, Se. I] 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 293 
+
+
+And so, I take my leave, and thank you both. | 
+
+
+Gre. Adieu, good neighbour. [Exit Baptista. 
+~ Now I fear thee not: 401 
+Sirrah young gamester, your father were a fool 
+To give thee all, and in his waning age 
+Set foot under thy table: tut, a toy! 
+An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy. 
+[Exit. 
+Tra. A vengeance on your crafty wither’d 
+hide! 
+Yet I have faced it with a card of ten. 
+Tis in my head to do my master good: 
+[ see no reason but supposed Lucentio 
+Must get a father, call’d ‘supposed Vincentio;’ 
+And that’s a wonder: fathers commonly 411 
+Do get their children; but in this case of 
+
+
+wooing, 
+A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my 
+cunning. [Exit. 
+ACT IIL. 
+Scene I. Padua. Baptista’s house. 
+
+
+Enter Lucentio, Hortensio, and BIANCA. 
+
+
+Luc. Fiddler, forbear; you grow too for- 
+ward, sir: } 
+Have you so soon forgot the entertainment 
+
+
+Hor. But, wrangling pedant, this is 
+The patroness of heavenly harmony: 
+Then give me leave to have prerogative; 
+And when in music we have spent an hour, 
+Your lecture shall have !eisure for as much. 
+Luc. Preposterous ass, that never read so far 
+To know the cause why music was ordain’d! 
+Was it not to refresh the mind of man 
+After his studies or his unusual pain? 
+Then give me leave to read philosophy, 
+And while I pause, serve in your harmony. 
+Hor. Sirrah, 1 will not bear these braves of 
+thine. 
+Bian. Why, gentlemen, you do me double 
+wrong, 
+To strive for that which resteth in my choice: 
+1 am no breeching scholar in the schools; 
+I'll not be tied to hours nor ‘pointed times, 
+But learn my lessons as I please myself. 20 
+And, to cut off all strife, here sit we down: 
+Take you your instrument, play you the whiles; 
+His lecture will be done ere you have tuned. 
+Hor. You'll leave his lecture when I am 
+in tune? 
+Luc. That will be never: tune your instru- 
+ment. 
+Bian. Where left we last? 
+Luc. Here, madam: 
+‘Hic ibat Simois; hic est Sigeia tellus; 
+Hic steterat Priami regia celsa senis.’ 
+Bian. Construe them. 
+
+
+Luc. ‘Hic ibat,’ as I told you before, 
+‘Simois, I am Lucentio, ‘hic est,’ son unto 
+Vincentio of Pisa, ‘Sigeia tellus,’ disguised 
+thus to get your loye; ‘Hic steterat,’ and that 
+Lucentio that comes a-wooing, “Priami,’ 1s 
+my man Tranio, ‘regia,’ bearing my port 
+‘celsa senis,’ that we might beguile the od 
+pantaloon. 
+
+Hor. Madam, my instrument's in tune. 
+
+Bian. Let's hear. O fie! the treble jars. 
+
+Luc. Spit in the hole, man, and tune agam. 
+
+Bian. Now let me see if I can construe it: 
+‘Hic ibat Simois,’ I know you not, ‘hic est 
+Sigeia tellus, I trust you not; ‘Hic steterat 
+Priami,’ take heed he hear us not, ‘regia,’ pre~ 
+sume not, ‘celsa senis, despair not. 
+
+Hor. Madam, ‘tis now in tune. 
+
+
+Luc. All but the base. 
+Hor. The base is right; ‘tis the base knave 
+that jars. 
+
+
+[Aside] How fiery and forward our pedant 
+is! 
+Now, for my life, the knave doth court my 
+love: 
+Pedascule, I ll watch you betier yet. 50 
+Bian. Jn time I may believe, yet I mistrust. 
+Luc. Mistrust it not; for, sure, AZacides 
+Was Ajax, call’d so from his grandfather. 
+Bian. 1 must believe my master; else, | 
+promise you, 
+I should be arguing still upon that doubt: 
+But let it rest. Now, Licio, to you: 
+Good masters, take it not unkindly, pray, 
+That I have been thus pleasant with you both. 
+Hor. You may go walk, and give me leave 
+a while: 
+My lessons make no music in three parts. 60 
+Luc. Are you so formal, sir? well, 1 must 
+
+
+walt, 
+[Aside] And watch withal; for, but I be de- 
+ceived, 
+Our fine musician groweth amorous. 
+Hor. Madam, before you touch the instru- 
+ment, 
+To learn the order of my fingering, 
+I must begin with rudiments of art; 
+To teach you gamut in a briefer sort, 
+More pleasant, pithy and effectual, 
+Than hath been taught by any of my trade: 
+And there it is in writing, fairly drawn. 70 
+Bian. Why, I am past my gamut long ago. 
+Hor. Yet read the gamut of Hortensio. 
+Bian. [Reads] “*Gamut’ I am, the ground 
+of all accord, 
+‘A re,’ to plead Hortensio’s passion; 
+‘B mi,’ Bianca, take him for thy lord, 
+‘C fa ut,’ that loves with all affection: 
+‘D sol re,’ one clef, two notes have I: 
+‘E la mi,’ show pity, or I die.” 
+
+
+294 
+
+
+Call you this gamut? tut, I like it not: 
+Old fashions please me best; I am not so nice, 
+To change true rules for old inventions. 81 
+
+
+Enter a Servant. 
+
+
+Serv. Mistress, your father prays you leave 
+your books 
+And help to dress your sister’s chamber up: 
+You know to-morrow is the wedding-day. 
+Bian. Farewell, sweet masters both; I must 
+
+
+be gone. [Exeunt Bianca and Servant. 
+jLuc. Faith, mistress, then I have no cause 
+to stay. [Exit. 
+Hor. But I have cause to pry’ into this 
+pedant: 
+
+
+Methinks he looks as though he were in love: 
+Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be so humble 
+To cast thy wandering eyes on every stale, 90 
+Seize thee that list: if once I find thee ranging, 
+Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing. 
+; [Exit. 
+
+
+Scene II. Padua. Before Baptista’s house. 
+
+
+Eater Baptista, Gremio, TRanio, KaTHa- 
+Rina, Bianca, Lucentio, and _ others, 
+attendants. 
+
+Bap. [To Tranio] Signior Lucentio, this 
+is the "pointed day 
+
+That Katharine and Petruchio should be mar- 
+
+ried, 
+
+And yet we hear not of our son-in-law. 
+
+What will be said? what mockery will it be, 
+
+To want the bridegroom when the priest at- 
+
+tends 
+
+To speak the ceremonial! rites of marriage! 
+
+What says Lucentio to this shame of ours? 
+Kath. No shame but mine: I must, for- 
+
+sooth, be forced 
+
+To give my hand opposed against my heart 
+
+Unto a mad-brain rudesby full of spleen; 10 
+
+Who woo'd in haste and means to wed at 
+
+leisure. 
+
+I told you, I, he was a frantic fool, 
+
+
+~Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behaviour: 
+* And, to be noted for a merry man, 
+
+
+He ‘ll woo a thousand, ’point the day of mar- 
+riage, 
+
+Make feasts, invite friends, and proclaim the 
+banns; 
+
+Yet never means to wed where he hath woo'd, 
+
+Now must the world point at poor Katharine, 
+
+And say, ‘ Lo, there is mad Petruchio’s wife, 
+
+If it would please him come and marry her!’ 
+
+Tra. Patience, good Katharine, and Bap- 
+
+tista too. 
+
+Upon my life, Petruchio means but well, 
+
+Whatever fortune stays him from his word: 
+
+Though he be blunt, I knew him passing wise; 
+
+Though he be merry, yet withal he’s honest, 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 
+
+
+[Acr II, Se, If 
+
+
+Kath. Would Katharine had never seen 
+him though! 
+[Exit weeping, followed by Bianca and others. 
+Bap. Go, girl; I cannot blame thee now to 
+weep; 
+For such an injury would vex a very saint, 
+Much more a shrew of thy impatient-humour, 
+
+
+Enter BIoNDELLO, 
+
+
+Bion. Master, master! news, old news, and 
+such news as you never heard of! 31 
+
+Bap. Is it new and old too? how may that 
+be? 
+
+Bion. Why, is it not news, to hear of 
+Petruchio’s coming? 
+
+Bap. Is he come? 
+
+Bion. Why, no, sir. 
+
+Bap. What then? 
+
+Bion. He is coming. 
+
+Bap. When will he be here? 
+
+Bion. When he stands where I am and sees 
+you there. 4) 
+Tra. But say, what to thine old news? 
+
+Bion. Why, Petruchio is coming in a new 
+hat and an old jerkin, a pair of old breeches 
+thrice turned, a pair of boots that have been 
+candle-cases, one buckled, another laced, an 
+old rusty sword ta’en out of the town-armoury, 
+with a broken hilt, and chapeless; with two 
+broken points: his horse hipped with an old 
+mothy saddle and stirrups of no kindred; be- 
+sides, possessed with the glanders and like to 
+mose in the chine; troubled with the lampass, 
+infected with the fashions, full of windgalls, 
+sped with spavins«rayed with the yellows, past 
+cure of the fives, stark spoiled with the staggers, 
+begnawn with the bots, swayed in the back 
+and shoulder-shotten; near legged before and 
+with a half-cheeked bit and a head-stally of 
+sheep's leather which, being restrained to keep 
+him from stumbling, hath been often burst and 
+now repaired with knots; one girth six times 
+pierced and a woman’s crupper of velure, 
+which hath two letters for her name fairly set 
+down in studs, and here and there pierced 
+with pack-thread. 
+
+Bap. Who comes with him? 
+
+Bion. O, sir, his lackey, for all the world 
+caparisoned like the horse; with a linen stock 
+on one leg and a kersey boot-hose on the other, 
+gartered with a red and blue list; an old hat 
+and ‘the humour of forty fancies’ pricked in 't 
+for a feather: a monster, a very monster in 
+apparel, and not like a Christian footboy or a 
+gentleman’s lackey. 
+
+Tra. ‘Tis some odd humour pricks him to 
+
+this fashion; 
+Yet oftentimes he goes but mean-apparell'd, 
+
+
+CEA The et # 
+
+
+- 
+
+
+) 
+
+
+Act Ill, Sc. 1) 
+
+
+DUEA 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 
+
+
+295 
+
+
+Bap. 1 am glad he’s come, howsoe’er he 
+comes. 
+Bion. Why, sir, he comes not. 
+Bap. Didst thou not say he comes? 
+Bion. Who? that Petruchio came? 
+Ay, that Petruchio came. 80 
+Bion. No, sir; I say his horse cornes, with 
+him on his back. 
+Bap. Why, that’s all one. 
+Bion. Nay, by Saint Jamy, 
+I hold you a penny, 
+A horse and a man 
+Is more than one, 
+And yet not many. 
+
+
+Enter PETRUCHIO and GRUMIO. 
+
+
+Pet. Come, where be these gallants? who's 
+
+at home? 
+
+Bap. You are welcome, sir. 
+
+Pet. And yet I come not well. 
+
+Bap. And yet you halt not. 
+
+Tra. Not so well apparell’d 
+As I wish you were. 
+
+Pet. Were it better, I should rush in thus. 
+But where is Kate? where is my lovely bride? 
+How does my father? Gentles, methinks you 
+
+frown: 
+
+And wherefore gaze this goodly company, 
+
+As if they saw some wondrous monument, 
+
+Some comet or unusual prodigy > 
+Bap. Why, sir, you know this is your wed- 
+
+ding-day: 
+
+First we were sad, fearing you would not 
+
+come: 
+
+Now sadder, that you come so unprovided. 
+
+Fie, doff this habit, shame to your estate, 
+
+An eye-sore to our solemn festival! 
+
+Tra. And tell us, what occasion of import 
+Hath all so long detain’d you from your wife, 
+And sent you hither so unlike yourself? 
+
+Pet. Tedious it were to tell, and harsh 
+to hear: 
+
+Sufficeth, I am come to keep my word, 
+
+Though in some part enforced to digress; 
+
+Which, at more leisure, I will so excuse 
+
+As you shall well be satisfied withal. 
+
+But where is Kate? I stay too long from her: 
+
+The morning wears, ‘tis time we were’ at 
+
+church. 
+
+Tra. See not your bride in these unrev- 
+
+erent robes: 
+
+Go to my chamber; put on clothes of mine. 
+Pet. Not I, believe me: thus I'll visit her. 
+Bap. But thus, I trust, you will not marry 
+
+her. 
+
+Pet. Good sooth, even thus; therefore ha’ 
+
+done with words: 
+
+To me she’s married, not unto my clothes: 
+
+Could I repair what she will wear in me, | 
+
+
+z 
+
+
+110 
+
+
+As I can change these poor accoutrements, 
+"Twere well for Kate and better for myself, 
+But what a fool am I to chat with you, 
+When I should bid good morrow to my bride, 
+And seal the title with a lovely kiss! 
+[Exeunt Petruchio and Grumio. 
+Tra. He hath some meaning in his mad 
+attire: 
+We will persuade him, be it possible, 
+To put on better ere he go to church. 
+Bap. 1 ll after him, and see the event of 
+this. 
+[Exeunt Baptista, Gremio, and attendants, 
+Tra. But to her love concerneth us to add 
+Her father’s liking: which to bring to pass 131 
+As | before imparted to your worship, 
+I am to get a man,—whate’er he be, 
+It skills not much, we ‘ll fit him to our turn,— 
+And he shall be Vincentio of Pisa; 
+And make assurance here in Padua 
+Of greater sums than I have promised. 
+So shall you quietly enjoy your hope, 
+And marry sweet Bianca with consent. 
+Luc. Were it not that my fellow-school- 
+master 140 
+Doth watch Bianca's steps so narrowly, 
+"Twere good, methinks, to steal our marriage; 
+Which once perform’d, let all the world say 
+no, 
+I'll keep mine own, despite of all the world, 
+Tra. That by degrees we mean to look into, 
+And watch our vantage in this business: 
+We'll over-reach the greybeard, Gremio, 
+The narrow-prying father, Minola, 
+The quaint musician, amorous Licio; 
+All for my master’s sake, Lucentio. 
+
+
+150 
+Re-enter GREMIO. 
+
+
+Signior Gremio, came you from the church? 
+Gre. As willingly as e’er I came from 
+school. 
+Tra. And is the bride and_ bridegroom 
+coming home ? 
+Gre. A bridegroom say you? ‘tis a groom 
+indeed, 
+A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall 
+find. 
+Tra. Curster than she? why, ‘tis impossible. 
+Gre. Why he’s a devil, a devil, a very 
+fend. 
+Why, she’s a devil, a devil, the 
+devil’s dam. 
+Gre. Tut, she’s a lamb, a dove, a fool to 
+him! 
+I'll tell you, Sir Lucentio: when the priest 
+Should ask, if Katharine should be his wife, 
+‘Ay, by gogs-wouns,’ quoth he; and swore so 
+oud, 
+That, all-amazed, the priest let fall the book; 
+
+
+296 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 
+
+
+[Acr Ill, Sc. li 
+
+
+And, as he stoop’d again to take it up, 
+This mad-brain’d bridegroom took him such a 
+cuff 
+That down fell priest and book and book and 
+priest: 
+‘Now take them up,’ quoth he, ‘if any list.’ 
+Tra. What said the wench when he rose 
+again? 
+Gre. Trembled and shook; for why, he 
+stamp'd and swore, 
+As if the vicar meant to cozen him. 170 
+But after many ceremonies done, 
+He calls for wine: ‘A health!’ quoth he, as if 
+He had been aboard, carousing to his mates 
+After a storm; quaff’d off the muscadel 
+And threw the sops all in the sexton’s face; 
+Having no other reason 
+But that his beard grew thin and hungerly 
+And seem'd to ask him sops as he was drink- 
+
+
+ing. 
+This done, he took the bride about the neck 
+And kiss'd her lips with such a clamorous 
+smack 180 
+That at the parting all the church did echo: 
+And I seeing this came thence for very shame; 
+And after me, | know, the rout is coming. 
+Such a mad marriage never was before: 
+Hark, hark! I hear the minstrels play. 
+
+
+[Music. 
+
+
+Re-enter PETRUCHIO, KATHARINA, BIANCA, 
+Baptista, Hortensio, Grumio, and Train. 
+
+
+Pet. Gentlemen and friends, I thank you 
+for your pains: 
+I know you think to dine with me to-day, 
+And have prepared great store of wedding 
+cheer; 
+But so it is, my haste doth call me hence, 189 
+And therefore here | mean to take my leave. 
+Bap. Is't possible you will away to-night? 
+Pet. 1 must away to-day, before night come: 
+Make it no wonder; if you knew my business, 
+You would entreat me rather go than stay. 
+And, honest company, I thank you all, 
+That have beheld me give away myself 
+To this ‘most patient, sweet and virtuous wife: 
+Dine with my father, drink a health to me; 
+For I must hence; and farewell to you all. 
+Tra. Let us entreat you stay till after din- 
+
+
+ner. 
+
+Pet, It may not be. 
+
+Gre. Let me entreat you. 201 
+Pet. It cannot be. 
+
+Kath. Let me entreat you. 
+
+Pet. | am content. 
+
+Kath. Are you content to stay? 
+Pet. lamcontent you shall entreat me stay ; 
+
+
+But yet not stay, entreat me how you can. 
+
+
+Kath. Now, if you love me, stay. 
+Pet. Grumio, my horse. 
+Gru. Ay, sir, they be ready: the oats have 
+eaten the horses. 
+Kath. Nay, then, 
+Do what thou canst, I will not go to-day; 210 
+No, nor to-morrow, not till I please myself. 
+The dcor is open, sir; there lies your way; 
+You may be jogging whiles your boots are 
+green; 
+For me, I "ll not be gone till I please myself: 
+’Tis like you'll prove a jolly surly groom, 
+That take it on you at the first so roundly. 
+Pet. O Kate, content thee; prithee, be not 
+angry. 
+Kath. I will be angry: what hast thou to do? 
+Father, be quiet: he shall stay my leisure. 219 
+Gre. Ay, marry, sir, now it begins to work. 
+Kath. Gentlemen, forward to the bridal 
+dinner: 
+I see a woman may be made a fool, ~ 
+If she had not a spirit to resist. 
+Pet. They shall go forward, Kate, at thy 
+command. 
+Obey the bride, you that attend on her; 
+Go to the feast, revel and domineer, 
+Carouse full measure to her maidenhead, 
+Be mad and merry, or go hang yourselves: 
+But for my bonny Kate, she must with me. 
+Nay, look not big, nor stamp, nor stare, nor 
+fret; 230 
+I will be master of what is mine own: 
+She is my goods, my chattels; she is my house, 
+My household stuff, my field, my barn, 
+My horse, my ox, my ass, my any thing; 
+And here she stands, touch her whoever dare; 
+I'll bring mine action on the proudest he 
+That stops my way in Padua. Grumio, 
+Draw forth thy weapon, we are beset with 
+thieves; 
+Rescue thy mistress, if thou be a man. 
+Fear not, sweet wench, they shall not touch 
+thee, Kate: 240 
+I'll buckler thee against a million. 
+[Exeunt Petruchio, Katharina, and Grumio. 
+Bap. Nay, let them go, a couple of quiet 
+ones. 
+Gre. Went they not quickly, I should die 
+with laughing. 
+Tra. Of all mad matches never was the like. 
+Luc. Mistress, what ’s your opinion of your 
+sister? 
+
+Bian. That, being mad herself, she’s madly 
+mated, , 
+Gre. | warrant him, Petruchio is Kated. 
+
+Bap. Neighbours and friends, though bride 
+and bridegroom wants 
+For to supply the places at the table, 
+You know there wants no junkets at the feast. 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. I] 
+
+
+Lucentio, you shall supply the bridegroom's 
+place; 251 
+And let Bianca take her sister’s room. 
+Tra. Shall sweet Bianca practise how to 
+bride it? 
+Bap. She shall, Lucentio. Come, gentle- 
+men, let's go. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT IV. 
+PETRUCHIO’s country house. 
+Enter Grumio. 
+
+
+Gru. Fie, fie on all tired jades, on all mad 
+masters, and all foul ways! Was ever man so 
+beaten? was ever man so raved? was ever man 
+so weary? I am sent before to make a fire, 
+and they are coming after to warm them. 
+Now, were not I a little pot and soon hot, my 
+very lips might freeze to my teeth, my tongue 
+to the roof of my mouth, my heart in my belly, 
+ere I should come by a fire to thaw me: but I, 
+with blowing the fire, shall warm myself; 
+for, considering the weather, a taller man than 
+
+
+I will take cold. Holla, ho! Curtis. 
+Enter Curtis. 
+
+
+ee 
+
+Curt. Who is that calls so coldly? 
+
+Gru. A piece of ice: if thou doubt it, thou 
+mayst slide from my shoulder to my heel with 
+no greater a run but my head and my neck. 
+A fire, good Curtis. 
+
+Curt. Is my master and his wife coming, 
+Grumio? 
+
+Gru. O, ay, Curtis, ay: and therefore fire, 
+fire; cast on no water. 21 
+
+Curt. Is she so hot a shrew as she’s re- 
+ported ? 
+
+Gru. She was, good Curtis, before this 
+frost: but, thou knowest, winter tames man, 
+woman and beast; for it hath tamed my old 
+master and my new mistress and myself, fel- 
+low Curtis. 
+
+Curt. Away, you three-inch fool! I am no 
+beast. 
+
+Gru. Am I but three inches? why, thy 
+horn is a foot; and so long am | at the least. 
+But wilt thou make a fire, or shall I complain 
+on thee to our mistress, whose hand, she being 
+now at hand, thou shalt soon feel, to thy cold 
+comfort, for being slow in thy hot office? 
+
+Curt. I prithee, good Grumio, tell me, how 
+goes the world? 
+
+Gru. A cold world, Curtis, in every office 
+but thine; and therefore fire: do thy duty, 
+and have thy duty; for my master and mistress 
+are almost frozen to death. 40 
+
+Curt. There’s fire ready; and _ therefore, 
+good Grumio, the ‘news. 
+
+Gru. Why, ‘Jack, boy! ho! boy!’ and as 
+
+
+much news as will thaw. 
+
+
+Scene I, 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 
+
+
+297 
+
+
+Curt, Come, you are so full of cony-catch- 
+ing! 
+
+Gru. Why, therefore fire; for I have caught 
+extreme cold. Where's the cook? is supper 
+ready, the house trimmed, rushes strewed, cob- 
+webs swept; the serving-men in their new fus- 
+tian, their white stockings, and every officer 
+his wedding-garment on? Be the jacks fair 
+within, and the jills fair without, the carpets 
+laid, and every thing in order? 
+
+Curt. All ready; and therefore, I pray 
+thee, news. 
+
+Gru, First, know, my horse is tired; my 
+master and mistress fallen out. 
+
+Curt. How? 
+
+Gru. Out of their saddles into the dirt; 
+and thereby hangs a tale. 60 
+
+Curt. Let's ha"t, good Grumio, 
+
+Gru. Lend thine ear. 
+
+Curt. Here. 
+
+Gru. There. [Strikes him. 
+
+see This is to feel a tale, not to hear a 
+tale. 
+
+Gru. And therefore ‘tis called a sensible 
+tale: and this cuff was but to knock at your 
+ear, and beseech listening. Now I begin: 
+Imprimis, we came down a foul hill, my mas- 
+ter riding behind my mistress,— 70 
+
+Curt. Both of one horse? 
+
+Gru, What's that to thee? 
+
+Curt. Why, a horse. 
+
+Gru. Tell thou the tale: but hadst thou not 
+crossed me, thou shouldst have heard how her 
+horse fell and she under her horse; thou 
+shouldst have heard in how miry a place, how 
+she was bemoiled, how he left her with the 
+horse upon her, how he beat me because her 
+horse stumbled, how she waded through the 
+dirt to pluck him off me, how he swore, how 
+she prayed, that never prayed before, how I 
+crossed me, thou shouldst have heard how her 
+bridle was burst, how I lost my crupper, with 
+many things of worthy memory, which now 
+shall die in oblivion and thou return unexpe- 
+rienced to thy grave. 
+
+Curt. By this reckoning he is more shrew 
+than she. 
+
+Gru. Ay; and that thou and the proudest 
+of you all shall find when he comes home. 
+But what talk I of this? Call forth Nathan- 
+iel, Joseph, Nicholas, Philip, Walter, Sugar- 
+sop and the rest: let their heads be sleekly 
+combed, their blue coats brushed and _ their 
+garters of an indifferent knit: let them curtsy 
+with their left legs and not presume to touch 
+a hair of my master’s horse-tail till they kiss 
+their hands. Are they all ready > 
+
+Curt. They are. 
+
+Gru. Call them forth, 
+
+
+298 
+
+
+Iie ee 
+
+
+Curt. Do you hear, ho? you must meet my 
+master to countenance my mistress. 101 
+Gru. Why, she hath a face of her own. 
+
+Curt. Who knows not that? 
+
+Gru. Thou, it seems, that calls for company 
+to countenance her. 
+
+Curt. I call them forth to credit her. 
+
+Gru. Why, she comes to borrow nothing of 
+them. 
+
+
+Enter four or five Serving-men. 
+
+
+Nath. Welcome home, Grumio! 
+Phil. How now, Grumiol 
+Jos. What, Grumio! 
+
+Nich. Fellow Grumio! 
+
+Nath. How now, old lad? 
+
+Gru. Welcome, you;—how now, you;— 
+what, you;—fellow, you;—and thus much for 
+greeting. Now, my spruce companions, is all 
+teady, and all things neat? 
+
+Nath. All things is ready. How near is our 
+master > 119 
+
+Gru. E’en at hand, alighted by this; and 
+therefore be not—Cock’s passion, silence! 
+hear my master. 
+
+
+Enter Perrucuio and KaTHARINA. 
+Pet. Where be these knaves? What, no 
+
+
+man at door 
+To hold my stirrup nor to take my horse! 
+Where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Philip? 
+All Serv. Here, here, sir; here, sir. 
+Pet. Here, sir! here, sir! here, sir! here, 
+sir! 
+You logger-headed and unpolish’d grooms! 
+What, no attendance? no regard? no duty? 
+Where is the foolish knave I sent before? 130 
+Gru. Here, sir; as foolish as I was before. 
+Pet. You peasant swain! you whoreson 
+malt-horse drudge! 
+Did I not bid thee meet me in the park, 
+And bring along these rascal knaves with thee? 
+Gru. Nathaniel’s coat, sir, was not fully 
+made, 
+And Gabriel's pumps were all unpink'd i’ the 
+heel; 
+There was no link to colour Peter’s hat, 
+And Walter's dagger was not come from 
+sheathing: 
+There were none fine but Adam, Ralph, and 
+Gregory ; 
+The rest were ragged, old, and beggarly; 140 
+Yet, as they are, here are they come to meet 
+you. 
+Pet. Go, rascals, go, and fetch my supper in. 
+[Exeunt Servants. 
+[Singing] Where is the life that late I led— 
+Where are those—Sit down, Kate, and wel- 
+come.— 
+
+
+Soud. soud, soud, soud} 
+
+
+110 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 
+
+
+f{Acr IV, Sc. I 
+
+
+Re-enter Servants with supper. 
+
+
+Why, when, I say? Nay, good sweet Kate, 
+be merry. 
+
+Of with my boots, you rogues! you villains, 
+when ? 
+
+[Sings] It was the friar of orders grey, 
+
+As he forth walked on his way :— 
+
+Out, you rogue! you pluck my foot awry: 15U 
+
+Take that, and mend the plucking off the 
+other. [Strikes him. 
+
+Be merry, Kate. Some water, here; what, hol 
+
+Where's my spaniel Troilus? Sirrah, get you 
+hence, 
+
+And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither: 
+
+One, Kate, that you must kiss, and be ac- 
+gainted with, 
+
+Where are my slippers? 
+water > 
+
+
+Shall I have some 
+
+
+Enter one with water. 
+
+
+Come, Kate, and wash, and welcome heartily. 
+You whoreson villain! will you let it fall? 
+[Strikes him. 
+Kath. Patience, I pray you; ‘twas a fault 
+unwilling, 
+Pet. A whoreson beetle-headed, flap-ear’d 
+knave! 160 
+Come, Kate, sit down; I know you have a 
+stomach. 
+Will you give thanks, sweet Kate; or else 
+shall 1? 
+What's this? mutton? 
+First Serv. 
+Pet. 
+
+Peter. ee 
+Pet. "Tis burnt; and so is all the meat. 
+What dogs are these! Where is the rascal 
+
+cook? 
+How durst you, villains, bring it from the 
+dresser, 
+And serve it thus to me that love it not? 
+There, take it to you, trenchers, cups, and all: 
+[Throws the meat, &c. about the stage. 
+You heedless joltheads and unmanner’d slaves! 
+What, do you grumble? I'll be with you 
+
+
+y. 
+Who brought it? ; 
+
+
+straight. 170 
+Kath. 1 pray you, husband, be not so dis- 
+quiet: 
+
+
+The meat was well, if you were so contented. 
+
+Pet. | tell thee, Kate, twas burnt and dried 
+away; 
+
+And I expressly am forbid to touch it, 
+
+For it engenders choler, planteth anger; 
+
+And better ‘twere that both of us did fast, 
+
+Since, of ourselves, ourselves are choleric, 
+
+Than fed it with such over-roasted flesh. 
+
+Be patient; tomorrow ’t shall be mended, 179 
+
+And, for this night, we'll fast for company: 
+
+
+sar at 
+y 
+
+
+er Oo 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. I] 
+
+
+f Cane I wall true thee to thy bridal chamber. 
+
+
+f 
+
+
+[Exeuni. 
+Re-enter Servants severally. 
+
+
+Nath. Peter, didst ever see the like? 
+
+
+Peter. He kills her in her own humour. 
+Re-enter Curtis. 
+Gru. Where is he? 
+
+
+Curt. In her chamber, making a sermon of 
+continency to her; 
+And rails, and swears, and rates, that she, 
+poor soul, 
+Knows not which way to stand, to look, 
+speak, 
+And sits as one new- risen from a dream. 189 
+Away, away! for he is coming hither. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Re-enter PETRUCHIO. 
+
+
+Pet. Thus have | politicly begun my reign, 
+And ‘tis my hope to end successfully. 
+My falcon now is sharp and passing empty; 
+And till she stoop she must not be full-gorged, 
+For then she never looks upon her lure. 
+Another way I have to man my haggard, 
+To make her come and know her keeper’s call, 
+That is, to watch her, as we watch these kites 
+That bate and beat and will not be obedient. 
+She eat no meat to-day, nor none shall eat; 
+Last night she slept not, nor to-night she shall 
+not; 201 
+As with the meat, some undeserved fault 
+I'll find about the making of the bed; 
+And here Ill fling the pillow, there the 
+bolster, 
+This way the coverlet, another way the sheets: 
+Ay, and amid this hurly I intend 
+That all is done in reverend care of her; 
+And in conclusion she shall watch all night: 
+And if she chance to nod I'll rail and brawl 
+And with the clamour keep her still awake. 
+This is a way to kill a wife with kindness; 
+And thus Ill curb her mad and headstrong 
+humour. 
+He that knows better how to tame a shrew, 
+Now let him speak: ‘tis charity to show. 
+[Exit. 
+Scene II. Padua. Before Baptista’s house. 
+Enter Tranio and Hortensio. 
+Tra. Is’t possible, friend Licio, that Mis- 
+tress Bianca 
+Doth fancy any other but Lucentio? 
+I tell you, sir, she bears me fair in hand. 
+Hor. Sir, to satisfy you in what I have said, 
+Stand by and mark the manner of his teaching. 
+Enter Bianca and Lucentio. 
+
+
+Luc. Now, mistress, profit you in what you 
+read? 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 
+
+
+299 
+
+
+Bian. What, master, read you? first re- 
+solve me that. 
+Luc. | read that I profess, the Art to Love. 
+
+
+Bian. And may you prove, sir, master of 
+your art! 
+
+Luc. While you, sweet dear, prove mistress 
+of my heart! 10 
+
+Hor. Quick, proceeders, marry! Now, tell 
+me, | pray, 
+
+
+You that durst swear that your mistress Bianca 
+Loved none in the world so well as Lucentio. 
+Tra. O despiteful love! unconstant woman- 
+kind! 
+I tell thee, Licio, this 1s wonderful. 
+Hor. Mistake no more: I am not Licio, 
+Nor a musician, as I seem to be; 
+But one that scorn to live in this disguise, 
+For such a one as leaves a gentleman, 
+And makes a god of such a cullion: 
+Know, sir, that I am call’d Hortensio. 
+Tra. Signior Hortensio, I have often heard 
+Of your entire affection to Bianca; 
+And since my eyes are witness of her light- 
+ness, 
+I will with you, if you be so contented, 
+Forswear Bianca and her love for ever. 
+Hor. See, how they kiss and court! 
+Signior Lucentio, 
+Here is my hand, and here | firmly vow 
+Never to woo her more, but do forswear 
+
+
+her, 
+30 
+
+
+As one unworthy all the former favours 
+
+
+That I have fondly flatter’d her withal. 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+Tra. And here I take the like unfeigned 
+oath, 
+Never to marry with her though she would 
+entreat: 
+
+
+Fie on her! see, how beastly she doth court 
+him! 
+Hor. Would all the world but he had quite 
+forsworn! 
+For me, that J may surely keep mine aah 
+I will be married to a wealthy widow, 
+Ere three days pass, which hath as long loved 
+
+
+me 
+As I have loved this proud disdainful haggard. 
+And so farewell, Signior Lucentio. 40 
+Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks, 
+Shall win my love: and so I take my leave, 
+
+
+In resolution as I swore before. [Exit. 
+Tra. Mistress Bianca, bless you with such 
+grace 
+
+
+As ‘longeth to a lover’s blessed case! 
+Nay, I have ta’en you napping, gentle love, 
+And have forsworn you with Hortensio. 
+Bian. Tranio, you jest: but have you both 
+forsworn me? 
+Tra. Mistress, we have. 
+Luc. Then we are rid of Licio, 
+
+
+300 
+
+
+Tra. \' faith, he'll have a lusty widow 
+now, 
+That shall be woo'd and wedded in a day. 51 
+Bian. God give him joy! 
+Tra. Ay, and he'll tame her. 
+
+
+Bian. He says so, Tranio. 
+
+Tra. Faith, he is gone unto the taming- 
+school. 
+
+Bian. The taming-school! what, is there 
+
+
+such a place? 
+Tra. Ay, mistress, 
+master ; 
+That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long, 
+To tame a shrew and charm her chattering 
+tongue. 
+
+
+and Petruchio is the 
+
+
+Enter BIONDELLO. 
+
+
+Bion. O master, master, | have watch'd so 
+long 
+That I am dog-weary: but at last I spied 60 
+*+An ancient angel coming down the hill, 
+Will serve the turn, 
+Tra. What is he, Biondello? 
+Bion. Master, a mercatante, or a pedant, 
+I know not what; but formal in apparel, 
+In gait and countenance surely like a father. 
+Luc. And what of him, Tranio? 
+Tra. If he be credulous and trust my tale, 
+I'll make him glad to seem Vincentio, 
+And give assurance to Baptista Minola, 
+As if he were the right Vincentio. 70 
+Take in your love, and then let me alone. 
+[Exeunt Lucentio and Bianca, 
+
+
+Enter a Pedant. 
+Ped. God save you, sir! 
+
+
+Tra. And you, sir! you are welcome. 
+Travel you far on, or are you at the farthest? 
+Ped. Sir, at the farthest for a week or two: 
+But then up farther, and as far as Rome; 
+And so to Tripoli, if God lend me life. 
+Tras What countryman, | pray? 
+Ped, Of Mantua. 
+Tra. Of Mantua, sir? marry, God forbid! 
+And come to Padua, careless of your life? 
+Ped. My life, sir! how, I pray? for that 
+goes hard. 80 
+Tra. “Yis death for any one in Mantua 
+To come to Padua. Know you not the cause? 
+Your ships are stay’d at Venice, and the duke, 
+For private quarrel 'twixt your duke and him, 
+Hath publish’d and proclaim'd it openly: 
+"Tis marvel, but that you are but newly come, 
+You might have heard it else proclaim'd about. 
+Ped. Alas! sir, it is worse for me than so; 
+For | have bills for money by exchange 
+From Florence and must here deliver them. 90 
+Tra. Well, sir, to do you courtesy, 
+This will I do, and this I will advise you: 
+
+
+First, tell me, have you ever been at Pisa? 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW | 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. II 
+
+
+Ped. Ay, sir, in Pisa have I often been, 
+Pisa renowned for grave citizens. 
+Tra. Among them know you one Vincentio ? 
+Ped. | know him not, but I have heard of 
+him; 
+A merchant of incomparable wealth. 
+Tra. He is my father, sir; and, sooth to 
+say, 
+In countenance somewhat doth resemble you. 
+Bion. [Aside] As much as an apple doth 
+an oyster, and all one. 101 
+Tra. To save your life in this extremity, 
+This favour will I do you for his sake; 
+And think it not the worst of all your fortunes 
+That you are like to Sir Vincentio. 
+His name and credit shall you undertake, 
+And in my house you shall be friendly lodged: 
+Look that you take upon you as you should; 
+You understand me, sir: so shall you stay 
+Till you have done your business in the city: 
+If this be courtesy, sir, accept of it. 11 
+Ped. O sir, I do: and will repute you ever 
+The patron of my life and liberty. 
+Tra. Then go with me to make the matter 
+good. 
+This, by the way, I let you understand; 
+My father is*here look’d for every day, 
+To pass assurance of a dower in marriage 
+"Twixt me and one Baptista’s daughter here: 
+In all these circumstances I ‘Il instruct you: 
+Go with me to clothe you as becomes you. 120 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. 
+
+
+Enter KaTHARINA and GRuMIO, 
+
+
+Gru. 
+life. 
+
+Kath. The more my wrong, the more his 
+spite appears: 
+
+What, did he marry me to famish me? 
+
+Beggars, that come unto my father’s door 
+
+Upon entreaty have a present alms; 
+
+If not, elsewhere they meet with charity: 
+
+But I, who never knew how to entreat, 
+
+Nor never needed that I should entreat, 
+
+Am starved for meat, giddy for lack of sleep, 
+
+be oaths kept waking and with brawling 
+
+ed: 
+
+And that which spites me more than all these 
+
+wants, ia 
+
+He does it under name of perfect love; 
+
+As who should say, if I should sleep or eat, 
+
+"Twere deadly sickness or else present death, 
+
+I prithee go and get me some repast; 
+
+I care not what, so it be wholesome food. 
+Gru. What say you to a neat’s foot? 
+Kath. "Tis passing good: | prithee let me 
+
+have it. 
+
+
+A room in PEtRuCcHIO's house. 
+
+
+No, no, forsooth; I dare not for my 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. Ill] 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 
+
+
+301 
+
+
+Gru. I fear it is too choleric a meat. 
+How say you to a fat tripe finely broil’d? 20 
+Kath. I like it well: good Grumio, fetch 
+
+it me. 
+Gru. I cannot tell; I fear ‘tis choleric. 
+
+What say you to a piece of beef and mustard? 
+Kath. A dish that I do love to feed upon. 
+Gru. Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little. 
+Kath. Why then, the beef, and let the 
+
+mustard rest. 
+Gru. Nay then, I will not: you shall have 
+the mustard, : 
+
+Or else you get no beef of Grumio. 
+
+Kath. Then both, or one, or any thing thou 
+wilt. 
+
+Gru. Why then, the mustard without the 
+beef. 30 
+
+Kath. Go, get thee gone, thou false delud- 
+ing slave, [Beats: him. 
+
+That feed’st me with the very name of meat: 
+
+Sorrow on thee and all the pack of you, 
+
+That triumph thus upon my misery! 
+
+Go, get thee gone, I say. 
+
+
+Enter PetRucHIo and Hortensio with meat. 
+
+
+Pet. How fares my Kate? What, sweet- 
+ing, all amort? 
+Hor. Mistress, what cheer? 
+Kath. Faith, as cold as can be. 
+Pet, Pluck up thy spirits; look cheerfully 
+upon me. 
+Here, love; thou see’st how diligent I am 
+To dress thy meat myself and bring it thee: 40 
+I am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits 
+thanks. 
+What, not a word? Nay, then thou lovest it 
+not; 
+And all my pains is sorted to no proof. 
+Here, take away this dish. 
+Kath. I pray you, let it stand. 
+Pet. The poorest service is repaid with 
+thanks; 
+And so shall mine, before you touch the meat. 
+Kath. 1 thank you, sir. 
+Hor. Signior Petruchio, fie! you are to 
+blame. 
+Come, Mistress Kate, I ‘Il bear you company. 
+Pet. [Aside] Eat it up all, Hortensio, if 
+thou lovest me. 50 
+Much good do it unto thy gentle heart! 
+Kate, eat apace: and now, my honey love, 
+We will return unto thy father’s house 
+And revel it as bravely as the best, 
+With silken coats and caps and golden rings, 
+With ruffs and cuffs and fardingales and 
+things; 
+With-scarfs and fans and double change of 
+bravery, 
+
+
+With amber bracelets, beads and all this 
+knavery. 
+
+What, hast thou dined? The tailor stays thy 
+leisure, 
+
+
+To deck thy body with his ruffling treasure. 60 
+Enter Tailor. 
+
+
+Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments: 
+Lay forth the gown. 
+
+
+Enter Haberdasher. 
+
+
+What news with you, sir? 
+
+Hab. Here is the cap your worship did be- 
+
+speak. 
+
+Pet. Why, this was moulded on a porringer ; 
+A velvet dish: fie, fie! ‘tis lewd and filthy: 
+Why, ‘tis a cockle or a walnut-shell, 
+
+A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby’s cap: 
+Away with it! come, let me have a bigger. 
+Kath. I'll have no bigger: this doth fit 
+the time, 
+And gentlewomen wear such caps as these. 70 
+Pet. When you are gentle, you shall have 
+one too, 
+And not til then. 
+Hor. [Aside] That will not be in haste. 
+Kath. Why, sir, I trust I may have leave 
+to speak; 
+And speak I will; I am no child, no babe: 
+Your betters have endured me say my mind, 
+And if you cannot, best you stop your ears, 
+My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, 
+Or else my heart concealing it will break, 
+And rather than it shall, I will be free 
+Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words. 
+Pet. Why, thou say’st true; it is a paltry 
+cap, 
+A custard-coffin, a bauble, a silken pie: 
+I love thee well, in that thou likest it not. 
+Kath. Love me or love me not, I like the 
+
+
+cap; 
+And it I will have, or I will have none. 
+[Exit Haberdasher. 
+Pet. Thy gown? why, ay: come, tailor, let 
+us see 't. 
+O mercy, God! what masquing stuff is here? 
+What's this? a sleeve? ‘tis like a demi- 
+cannon: 
+What, up and down, carved like an apple- 
+tart? 
+Here’s snip and nip and cut and slish and 
+
+
+slash, 
+
+
+Like to a censer in a barber's shop: 91 
+Why, what i’ devil's name, tailor, call’st thou 
+this? 
+
+
+Hor. [Aside] I see she’s like to have 
+neither cap nor gown. 
+Tai. You bid me make it orderly and well, 
+According to the fashion and the time. 
+
+
+302 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 
+
+
+Pet. Marry, and did; but if you be remem- 
+ber’d, 
+I did not bid you mar it to the time. 
+Go, hop me over every kennel home, 
+For you shall hop without my custom, sir: 99 
+I'll none of it: hence! make your best of it. 
+Kath. | never saw a better-fashion’d gown, 
+More quaint, more pleasing, nor more com- 
+mendable: 
+Belike you mean to make a puppet of me. 
+Pet. Why, true; he means to make a pup- 
+pet of thee, 
+Tai. She says your worship means to make 
+
+
+a puppet of her. 
+Pet. O monstrous arrogance! Thou liest, 
+
+
+thou thread, thou thimble, 
+
+Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, 
+nail! 
+
+Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter-cricket thou! 
+
+Braved in mine own house with a skein of 
+thread > 111 
+
+Away, thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant; 
+
+Or I shall so be-mete thee with thy yard 
+
+As thou shall think on prating whilst thou 
+livest! 
+
+I tell thee, I, that thou hast marr’d her gown. 
+
+Tai. Your worship is deceived; the gown 
+
+is made 
+Just as my master had direction: 
+Grumio gave order how it should be done. 
+
+Gru. I gave him no order; I gave him the 
+
+stuff. 
+
+Tai. But how did you desire it should be 
+
+made ? 120 
+
+Gra. Marry, sir, with needle and thread. 
+
+Tai. But didst you not request to have it cut? 
+
+Gru. Thou hast faced many things. 
+
+Tai. I have. 
+
+Gra. Face not me: thou hast braved many 
+men; brave not me; | will neither be faced 
+nor braved. I say unto thee, I bid thy mas- 
+ter cut out the gown; but I did not bid him 
+cut it to pieces: ergo, thou liest. 
+
+Tai. Why, here is the note of the fashion 
+to testify. 131 
+
+Pet. Read it. 
+
+Gru. The note lies in's throat, if he say I 
+said so. 
+
+Tai. [Reads] 
+gown:” 
+
+Gru. Master, if ever I said loose-bodied 
+gown, sew me in the skirts of it, and beat me 
+to death with a bottom of brown thread: | 
+said a gown. 
+
+Pet. Proceed. 
+
+Tai. [Reads] ‘With a small compassed 
+
+cape: 
+
+Gru. I confess the cape. 141 
+
+
+Tai. [Reads] ‘With a trunk sleeve:” 
+
+
+‘Imprimis, a loose-bodied 
+
+
+Gru. I confess two sleeves. 
+Tai. [Reads|‘The sleeves curiously cut.’ 
+Pet. Ay, there’s the villany. 
+Gru. Error 7’ the bill, sir; error i’ the bill. 
+I commanded the sleeves should be cut out 
+and sewed up again; and that I'll prove upon 
+thee, though thy little finger be armed in a 
+thimble. 
+Tai. This is true that I say: an I had thee 
+in place where, thou shouldst know it. 151 
+Gru. I am for thee straight: take thou the 
+bill, give me thy mete-yard, and spare not me. 
+Hor. God-a-mercy, Grumio! then he shall 
+have no odds. 
+Pet. Well, sir, in brief, the gown is not 
+for me. 
+Gru. You are 1’ the right, sir; ‘tis for my 
+mistress. 
+Pet. Go, take it up unto thy master’s use. 
+Gru. Villain, not for thy life: take up my 
+mistress’ gown for thy master’s use! 161 
+Pet. Why, sir, what’s your conceit in that? 
+Gru. O, sir, the conceit is deeper than you 
+think for: 
+Take up my mistress’ gown to his master’s use! 
+O, fie, fie, fie! 
+Pet. [Aside] Hortensio, say thou wilt see 
+the tailor paid. 
+Go take it hence; be gone, and say no more, 
+Hor. Tailor, I'll pay thee for thy gown to- 
+morrow: 
+Take no unkindness of his hasty words: 
+Away! I say; commend me to thy master. 
+[Exit Tailor. 
+Pet. Well, come, my Kate; we will unto 
+your father’s 
+Even in these honest mean habjliments: 
+Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor; 
+For ‘tis the mind that makes the body rich; 
+And as the sun breaks through the darkest 
+clouds, 
+So honour peereth m the meanest habit. 
+What is the jay more precious than the lark, 
+Because his feathers are more beautiful? 
+Or is the adder better than the eel, 
+Because his painted skin contents the eye? 
+O, no, good Kate; neither art thou the worse 
+For this poor furniture and mean array, 
+If thou account’st it shame, lay it on me; 
+And therefore frolic: we will hence forthwith, 
+To feast and sport us at thy father’s house. 
+Go, call my men, and let us straight to him; 
+And bring our horses unto Long-lane end; 
+There will we mount, and thither walk on 
+foot. 
+Let's see; I think ’tis now some seven o'clock, 
+And well we may come there by dinner-time. 
+Kath. 1 dare assure you, sir, ‘tis almost 
+two; 191 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. HT 
+
+
+Fi ce 
+Aer IV, Sc. 1V] 
+
+
+SS 
+
+
+a a 
+
+
+we 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 
+
+
+303 
+
+
+_ And ‘twill be supper-time ere you come there. 
+
+
+Pet. \t shall be seven ere I go to horse: 
+Look, what I speak, or do, or think to do, 
+You are still crossing it. Sirs, let’t alone: 
+
+I will not go to-day; and ere I do, 
+It shall be what o'clock I say. it is. 
+Hor. [Aside] Why, so this gallant will 
+
+
+command the sun. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Padua. Before Baptista’s house. 
+
+
+Enter Tranio, and the Pedant dressed like 
+VINCENTIO. 
+
+
+Tra. Sir, this is the house: please it you 
+that I call? 
+Ped. Ay, what else? and but I be deceived 
+Signior Baptista may remember me, 
+Near twenty years ago, in Genoa, 
+Where we were lodgers at the Pegasus. 
+Tra. "Tis well; and hold your own, in any 
+case, 
+With such austerity as ‘longeth to a father. 
+Ped. I warrant you. 
+
+
+Enter BIoNDELLO. 
+
+
+But, sir, here comes your boy; 
+*Twere good he were school’d. 
+
+Tra. Fear you not him. Sirrah Biondello, 
+Now do your duty thoroughly, I advise you: 
+Imagine ‘twere the right Vincentio. 
+
+Bion. Tut, fear not me. 
+
+
+Tra. But hast thou done thy errand to 
+Baptista? 
+
+Bion. 1 told him that your father was at 
+Venice, 
+
+
+And that you look’d for him this day in Padua. 
+Tra. Thou’rt a tall fellow: hold thee that 
+
+to drink. 
+Here comes Baptista: set your countenance, sir. 
+
+
+Enter Baptista and LuceENTIO. 
+
+
+Signior Baptista, you are happily met. 
+
+[To the Pedant] Sir, this is the gentleman | 
+told you of: 20 
+
+I pray you, stand good father to me now, 
+
+Give me Bianca for my patrimony. 
+
+Ped. Soft, son! 
+
+Sir, by your leave: having come to Padua 
+
+To gather in some debts, my son Lucentio 
+
+Made me acquainted with a weighty cause 
+
+Of love between your daughter and himself: 
+
+And, for the good report | hear of you 
+
+And for the love he beareth to your daughter 
+
+And she to him, to stay him not too long, 30 
+
+I am content, in a good father’s care, 
+
+To have him match’d; and if you please to like 
+
+No worse than I, upon some agreement 
+
+Me shall you find ready and willing 
+
+With one consent to have her so bestow’d; 
+
+For curious I cannot be with you, 
+
+Signior Baptista. of whom I hear so well. 
+
+
+Bap. Sir, pardon me in what I have to say: 
+
+Your plainness and your shortness please me 
+well. 
+
+Right true it is, your son Lucentio here 
+
+Doth love my daughter and she loveth him, 
+
+Or both dissemble deeply their affections: 
+
+And therefore, if you say no more than this, 
+
+That like a father you will deal with him 
+
+And pass my daughter a sufficient dower, 
+
+The match is made, and all is done: 
+
+Your son shall have my daughter with consent. 
+
+Tra. 1 thank you, sir. Where then do you 
+
+know best 
+We be affied and such assurance ta’en 
+And shall with either part's agreement stand? 
+Bap. Nat in my house, Lucentio; for, you 
+know, 
+Pitchers have ears, and I have many servants: 
+Besides, old Gremio is hearkening still; 
+And happily we might be interrupted. 
+
+Tra. Then at my lodging, an it like you: 
+There doth my fath@r lie; and there, this night, 
+We'll pass the business privately and well. 
+Send for your daughter by your servant here; 
+My boy shall fetch the scrivener presently. 59 
+The worst is this, that, at so slender warning, 
+You are like to have a thin and slender pit- 
+
+tance. 
+
+Bap. It likes me well. Biondello, hie you 
+
+home, 
+And bid Bianca make her ready straight: 
+And, if you will, tell what hath happened, 
+Lucentio’s father is arrived in Padua, 
+And how she’s like to be Lucentio’s wife. 
+Bion. 1 pray the gods she may with all my 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+heart! 
+Tra. Dally not with the gods, but get thee 
+gone. [Exit Bion. 
+
+
+Signior Baptista, shall I lead the way? 
+Welcome! one mess is like to be your cheer: 
+Come, sir; we will better it in Pisa. 
+Bap. 1 follow you. 
+[Exeunt Tranio, Pedant, and Baptista. 
+
+
+Re-enter BIONDELLO. 
+
+
+Bion. Cambio! 
+
+Luc. What sayest thou, Biondello? 
+
+Bion. You saw my master wink and laugh 
+upon you? 
+
+Luc. Biondello, what of that? 
+
+Bion. Faith, nothing; but he has left me 
+here behind, to expound the meaning or moral 
+of his signs and tokens. 
+
+Luc. I pray thee, moralize them. 
+
+Bion. Then thus. Baptista is safe, talking 
+with the deceiving father of a deceitful son. 
+
+Luc. And what of him? 
+
+Bion. His daughter is to be brought by you 
+to the supper. 
+
+
+304 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. V 
+
+
+Luc. And then? 
+
+Bion. The old priest of Saint Luke’s 
+church is at your command at all hours. 
+
+Luc. And what of all this? 90 
+
+Bion. I cannot tell; expect they are busied 
+about a counterfeit assurance: take you as- 
+surance of her, ‘cum privilegio ad imprimen- 
+dum solum:’ to the church; take the priest, 
+clerk, and some sufficient honest witnesses: 
+If this be not that you look for, I have no 
+
+more to say, 
+
+But bid Bianca farewell for ever and a day. 
+
+Luc. Hearest thou, Biondello> 
+
+Bion. I cannot tarry: | knew a wench mar- 
+ried in an afternoon as she went to the garden 
+for parsley to stuff a rabbit; and so may you, 
+sir: and so, adieu, sir. My master hath ap- 
+pointed me to go to Saint Luke’s, to bid the 
+priest be ready to come against you come with 
+your appendix. [Exit. 
+
+
+Luc. I may, and will, if she be so contented: 
+She will be pleased; thenwherefore should | 
+doubt? 
+
+
+Hap what hap may, I'll roundly go about her: 
+It shall go hard if Cambio go without her. 
+[Exit. 
+
+
+Scene V. A public road. 
+
+
+Enter Petrucuio, KaTHarina, Hortens:o, 
+and Servants. 
+Pet. Come on, i’ God’s name; 
+toward our father’s. 
+
+
+Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the 
+
+
+once more 
+
+
+moon! 
+
+Kath. The moon! the sun: it is not moon- 
+light now. 
+
+Pet. 1 say it is the moon that shines so 
+bright. 
+
+Kath. I knowit isthe sun that shinessobright. 
+
+
+Pet. Now, by my mother’s son, and that’s 
+myself, 
+It shall be moon, or star, or what I list, 
+Or ere I journey to your father’s house. 
+Go on, and fetch our horses back again. 
+Evermore cross’d and cross’d; nothing but 
+cross'd! 10 
+Hor. Say as he says, or we shall never go. 
+Kath. Forward, I pray, since we have 
+come so far, 
+And be it moon, or sun, or what you please: 
+And if you please to call it a rush-candle, 
+Henceforth I vow it shall be so for me. 
+
+
+Pet. I say it is the moon. 
+
+Kath. I know it is the moon. 
+
+Pei. Nay, then you lie: it is the blessed 
+sun. 
+
+
+Kath. Then, God be bless’d, 
+blessed sun: 
+But sun it is not, when yo say it is not; 
+
+
+it is the 
+
+
+And the moon changes even as your mind. 20 
+What you will have it named, even that it is; 
+And so it shall be so for Katharine. 
+
+
+Hor. Petruchio, go thy ways; the field is 
+won. 
+Pet. Well, forward, forward! thus the 
+
+
+bowl should run, 
+And not unluckily against the bias. 
+But, soft! company is coming here. 
+
+
+Enter VINCENTIO. 
+
+
+[To Vincentio] Good morrow, gentle mis- 
+tress: where away? 
+Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too, 
+Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman? 29 
+Such war of white and red within her cheeks! 
+What stars do spangle heaven with such 
+beauty, 
+As those two eyes become that heavenly face? 
+Fair lovely maid, once more good day to thee. 
+Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beauty’s sake. 
+Hor. A’ will make the man mad, to make 
+a woman of him. 
+Kath. Young budding virgin, and 
+fresh and sweet, 
+Whither away, or where is thy abode? 
+Happy the parents of so fair a child; 
+Happier the man, whom favourable stars 40 
+
+
+Allot thee for his lovely bed-fellow! 
+
+
+fair 
+
+
+Pet. Why, how now, Kate! I hope thou art 
+
+
+not mad: 
+This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, wither’d, 
+And not a maiden, as thou say’st he is. 
+Kath. Pardon, old father, my mistaking 
+eyes, 
+That have been’so bedazzled with the sun 
+That everything I look on seemeth green: 
+Now I perceive thou art a reverend father; 
+Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking. 
+Pet. Do, good old grandsire; and withal 
+make known 50 
+Which way thou travellest: if along with us, 
+We shall be joyful of thy company. 
+Vin. Fair sir, and you my merry mistress, 
+That with your strange encounter much 
+amazed me, 
+My name is call’d Vincentio; my dwelling 
+Pisa; 
+And bound I am to Padua; there to visit 
+A son of mine, which long I have not seen. 
+Pet. What is his name? 
+Vin. Lucentio, gentle sir. 
+Pet. Happily met; the happier for thy son. 
+And now by law, as well as reverend age, 60 
+I may entitle thee my loving father: 
+The sister to my wife, this gentlewoman, 
+Thy son by this hath married. Wonder not, 
+Nor be not grieved: she is of good esteem, 
+Her dowry wealthy, and of worthy birth; 
+
+
+~~-_-T so 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. I] 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 305 
+
+
+Beside, so qualified as may beseem 
+
+The spouse of any noble gentleman. 
+
+Let me embrace with old Vincentio, 
+
+And wander we to see thy honest son, 
+
+Who will of thy arrival be full joyous. 70 
+Vin. But is this true? or is it else your 
+
+pleasure, 
+
+Like pleasant travellers, to break a jest 
+
+Upon the company you overtake? 
+Hor. 1 do assure thee, father, so it is. 
+Pet. Come, go along, and see the truth 
+
+
+hereof ; 
+For our first merriment hath made thee jeal- 
+ous. [Exeunt all but Hortensio. 
+Hor. Well, Petruchio, this has put me in 
+heart. 
+
+
+Have to my widow! and if she be froward, 
+Then hast thou taught Hortensio to be un- 
+toward. [Exit. 
+
+
+ACT V. 
+
+
+Scene I. Padua. Before Lucentio’s house. 
+
+
+Gremio discovered. Enter behind B1oNDELLO, 
+Lucentio, and BIANCA. 
+
+
+Bion. Softly and swiftly, sir; for the 
+priest is ready. 
+
+Luc. | fly, Biondello: but they may chance 
+to need thee at home; therefore leave us. 
+
+Bion. Nay, faith, I "ll see the church 0’ 
+your back; and then come back to my mas- 
+ter’s as soon as | can. 
+
+[Exeunt Lucentio, Bianca, and Biondello. 
+
+Gre. I marvel Cambio comes not all this 
+
+while. 
+
+
+Enter Petrucuio, KaTHARINA, VINCENTIO, 
+Grumio, with Attendants. 
+
+
+Pet. Sir, here's the door, this is Lucentio’s 
+house: 
+My father’s bears more toward the market- 
+place; 
+Thither must I, and here I leave you, sir. 
+Vin. You shall not choose but drink before 
+you go: 
+I think I shall command your welcome here, 
+And, by all likelihood, some cheer is toward. 
+[ Knocks. 
+Gre. They ’re busy within; you were best 
+knock louder. 
+
+
+Pedant looks out of the window. 
+
+
+Ped. What’s he that knocks as he would 
+beat down the gate? 
+
+Vin. Is Signior Lucentio within, sir? 
+
+Ped. He's within, sir, but not to be spoken 
+withal. 21 
+Vin. What if a man bring him a hundred 
+
+
+pound or two, to make merry withal ? 
+
+
+Ped. Keep your hundred pounds to your- 
+self: he shall need none, so long as I live. 
+
+Pet. Nay, | told you your son was well be- 
+loved in Padua. Do you hear, sir? To leave 
+frivolous circumstances, I pray you, tell Sig- 
+nior Lucentio that his father is come from 
+Pisa and is here at the door to speak with him. 
+
+Ped. Thou liest: his father is come from 
+Padua and here looking out at the window. 
+
+Vin. Art thou his father? 
+
+Ped. Ay, sir; so his mother says, if | may 
+believe her. 
+
+Pet. [To Vincentio] Why, how now, gen- 
+tleman! why, this is flat knavery, to take upon 
+you another man’s name. 
+
+Ped, Lay hands on the villain: I believe a’ 
+means to cozen somebody in this city under 
+my countenance. 4| 
+
+
+Re-enter BIONDELLO. 
+
+
+Bion. I have seen them in the church to- 
+gether: God send "em good shipping! But 
+who is here? mine old master Vincentio! now 
+we are undone and brought to nothing. 
+
+Vin. [Seeing Biondello] Come hither. 
+crack-hemp. 
+
+Bion. | hope I may choose, sir. 
+
+Vin. Come hither, you rogue. What, have 
+you forgot me? 50 
+
+Bion. Forgot you! no, sir: I could not for- 
+- you, for I never saw you before in all my 
+ife. 
+
+Vin. What, you notorious villain, didst 
+thou never see thy master’s father, Vincentio? 
+
+Bion. What, my old worshipful master > 
+yes, marry, sir: see where he looks out of the 
+window. 
+
+Vin. Is’t so, indeed? [Beats Biondello. 
+
+Bion. Help, help, help! here’s a madman 
+will murder me. [Exit. 61 
+
+Ped. Help, son! help, Signior Baptista! 
+
+[Exit from above. 
+
+
+Pet. Prithee, Kate, let’s stand aside and 
+see the end of this controversy. [They retire. 
+
+
+Re-enter Pedant below; TRANIO, BAPTISTA, 
+and Servants. 
+
+
+Tra. Sir, what are you that offer to beat 
+my servant? 
+
+Vin. What am I, sir! nay, what are you, 
+sir? O immortal gods! O fine villain! A silken 
+doublet! a velvet hose! a scarlet cloak! and a 
+copatain hat! O, I am undone! I am undone! 
+while I play the good husband at home, my son 
+and my servant spend all at the university. 
+
+Tra. How now! what's the matter? 
+
+Bap. What, is the man lunatic? 
+
+Tra. Sir, you seem a sober ancient gentle- 
+man by your habit, but your words show you a 
+madman. Why, sir, what ‘cerns it you if J 
+
+
+306 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 
+
+
+wear pearl and gold? I thank my good father, 
+I am able to maintain it. 7 
+Vin. Thy father! O villain! he is a sail- 
+maker in Bergamo. 
+Bap. You mistake, sir, you mistake, sir. 
+Pray, what do you think is his name? 
+
+
+Vin. His name! as if I knew not his name:: 
+
+
+J have brought him up ever since he was three 
+years old, and his name is Tranto. 
+
+Ped. Away, away, mad ass! his name 1s 
+Lucentio; and he is mine only son, and heir 
+to the lands of me, Signior Vincentio. 89 
+
+Vin. Lucentio! O, he hath murdered his 
+master! Lay hold on him, I charge you, in 
+the duke’s name. O, my son, my son! Tell 
+me, thou villain, where is my son Lucentio? 
+
+
+Tra. Call forth an officer. 
+Enter one with an Officer. 
+
+
+Carry this mad knave to the gaol. Father Bap- 
+tista, | charge you see that he be forthcoming. 
+
+Vin. Carry me to the gaol! 
+
+Gre. Stay, officer: he shall not go to prison. 
+
+Bap. Talk not, Signior Gremio: I say he 
+shall go to prison. 100 
+
+Gre. Take heed, Signior Baptista, lest you 
+be cony-catched in this business: I dare swear 
+this is the right Vincentio. 
+
+Ped. Swear, if thou darest. 
+
+Gre. Nay, I dare not swear at. 
+
+Tra. Then thou wert best say that I am 
+not Lucentio. 
+
+Gre. Yes, I know thee to be Signior Lu- 
+centio. 
+
+Bap. Away with the dotard! to the gaol 
+with him! 110 
+
+Vin. Thus strangers may be haled and 
+abused: O monstrous villain! 
+Re-enter BioNDELLO, with LucENTIO and 
+
+BIANca. 
+
+Bion. O! we are spoiled and—yonder he 
+
+is: deny him, forswear him, or else we are all 
+
+
+undone. 
+Luc. [Kneeling] Pardon, sweet father. 
+
+
+in. Lives my sweet son? 
+[Exeunt Biondello, 
+
+
+Tranio, and Pedant, 
+Bian. Pardon, dear father. 
+
+
+as fast as may be, 
+
+
+Bap. How hast thou offended ? 
+Where is Lucentio? 
+Luc. Here 's Lucentio, 
+
+
+Right son to the right Vincentio; 
+That have by marriage made thy daughter 
+mine, 
+While counterfeit supposes blear’d thine eyne. 
+Gre. Here's packing, with a witness, to 
+deceive us all! 
+Vin. Where is that damned villain Tranio, 
+That faced and braved me in this matter so? 
+
+
+~ 
+
+
+[Acr V, Sc. 1 
+
+
+Bap. Why, teil me, is not this my Cambio? 
+Bian. Cambio is changed into Lucentio. 
+Luc. Love wrought these miracles. Bianca’s 
+love 
+Made me exchange my state with Tranio, 
+While he did bear my countenance in the 
+town; 
+And happily I have arrived at the last 130 
+Unto the wished haven of my bliss. 
+What Tranio did, myself enforced him to; 
+Then pardon him, sweet father, for my sake. 
+Vin. I'll slit the villain’s nose, that would 
+have sent me to the gaol. 
+Bap. But do you hear, sir? have you mar- 
+
+
+ried my daughter without asking my good 
+
+
+will? 
+
+Vin. Fear not, Baptista; we will content 
+you, go to: but I will in, to be revenged for 
+this villany. [Exit. 140 
+
+Bap. And I, to sound the depth of this 
+knavery. [Exit. 
+
+Luc. Look not pale, Bianca; thy father 
+will not frown. [Exeunt Lucentio and Bianca. 
+
+Gre. My cake is dough; but I'll be among 
+
+the rest, 
+Out of hope of all, but my share of the feast. 
+[Exil. 
+
+Kath. Husband, let's follow, to see the end 
+
+of this ado. 
+
+Pet. First kiss me, Kate, and we will. 
+
+Kath. What, in the midst of the street? 
+
+Pet. What, art thou ashamed of me? 150 
+
+ae No, sir, God forbid; but ashamed to 
+
+iss. 
+. Why, then, let’s home again. Come, 
+sirrah, let’s away. 
+
+Kath. Nay, I will give thee a kiss: now 
+
+pray thee, love, stay. 
+
+Pet. Is not this well? Come, my sweet 
+
+Kate: 
+Better once than never, for never too late. 
+[Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene II. Padua. Lucentio’s house. 
+
+
+Enter Baptista, VINCENTIO, GREMIO, the 
+Pedant, Lucentio, Bianca, PETRUCHIO, 
+Katarina, Horrensio, and Widow, 
+Tranio, BionpELLO, and Grumio: the 
+Serving-men with Tranio bringing in, a 
+banquet. 
+
+Luc. At last, though long, our jarring notes 
+agree: 
+
+And time it is, when raging war is done, 
+
+To smile at scapes and perils overblown. 
+
+My fair Bianca, bid my father welcome, 
+
+While I with self-same kindness welcome thine 
+
+Brother Petruchio, sister Katharina, 
+
+And thou, Hortensio, with thy loving widow, 
+
+Feast with the best, and welcome to my house: 
+
+
+if 
+
+
+, 
+
+
+Pee 
+J 
+
+
+~ Act V, Sc. Il] 
+
+
+__. My banquet is to close our stomachs up, 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+After our great good cheer. Pray you, sit 
+
+
+down; 
+For now we sit to chat as well as eat. 1] 
+Pet. Nothing but sit and sit, and eat and 
+eat! 
+Bap. Padua affords this kindness, son Pe- 
+truchio, 
+Pet. Padua affords nothing but what is 
+kind. 
+Hor. For both our sakes, I would that 
+
+
+word were true. 
+Pet. Now, for my life, Hortensio fears his 
+widow. 
+Wid. Then never trust me, if I be afeard. 
+Pet. You are very sensible, and yet you 
+miss my sense: 
+1 mean, Hortensto is afeard of you. 
+Wid. He that is giddy thinks the world 
+turns round. 20 
+Pet. Roundly replied. 
+Kath. Mistress, how mean you that? 
+Wid. Thus I conceive by him. 
+Pet. Conceives by me! How likes Hor- 
+tensio that? 
+Hor. My widow says, thus she conceives 
+her tale. 
+Pet. Very well mended. Kiss him for that, 
+good widow. 
+Kath. ‘He that is giddy thinks the world 
+turns round:’ 
+I pray you, tell me what you meant by that. 
+Wid. Your husband, being troubled with 
+a shrew, 
+Measures my husband’s sorrow by his woe: 
+And now you know my meaning. 
+Kath. A very mean meaning. 
+Wid. Right, I mean you. 
+Kath. And I am mean indeed, respecting 
+you. 
+Pet. To her, Kate! 
+Hor. To her, widow! 
+Pet. A hundred marks, my Kate does put 
+her down. 
+Hor. That’s my office. 
+Pet. Spoke like an officer: ha’ to thee, lad! 
+[Drinks to Hortensio. 
+Bap. How like Gremio these quick-witted 
+folks? 
+Gre. Believe me. sir, they butt together well. 
+Bian. Head, and butt! an hasty-witted body 
+Would say your head and butt were head and 
+
+
+horn. 4| 
+Vin. Ay, mistress bride, hath that awaken’d 
+you? 
+
+
+Bian. Ay, but not frighted me; therefore 
+I'll sleep again. 
+
+Pet. Nay, that you shall not: since you 
+have begun, 
+
+
+rm 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 
+
+
+307 
+
+
+Have at you for a bitter jest or two! 
+Bian. Am I your bird? | mean to shift my 
+bush; 
+And then pursue me as you draw your bow. 
+You are welcome all. 
+[Exeunt Bianca, Katharina, and Widow. 
+Pet. She hath prevented me. Here, Signior 
+
+
+Tranio, 49 
+This bird you aim’d at, though you hit her 
+not; 
+
+
+Therefore a health to all that shot and miss’d. 
+
+Tra. O, sir, Lucentio slipp’d me like his 
+
+greyhound, 
+Which runs himself and catches for his master. 
+
+Pet. A good swift simile, but something 
+
+currish. 
+
+Tra. "Tis well, sir, that you hunted for 
+
+yourself : 
+‘Tis thought your deer does hold you at a bay. 
+
+Bap. O ho, Petruchio! Tranio hits you 
+
+now. 
+
+Luc. | thank thee for that gird, good Tranio. 
+
+Hor. Confess, confess, hath he not hit you 
+
+here? 
+
+Pet. A’ has a little gall’d me, I confess; 60 
+And, as the jest did glance away from me, 
+’Tis ten to one it maim’d you two outright. 
+
+Bap. Now, in good sadness, son Petruchio, 
+I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all. 
+
+Pet. Well, I say no: and therefore for as- 
+
+surance 
+Let ’s each one send unto his wife; 
+And he whose wife is most obedient 
+To come at first when he doth send for her, 
+Shall win the wager which we will propose. 
+
+Hor. Content. What is the wager? 
+
+Luce. Twenty crowns. 7C 
+
+Pet. Twenty crowns! 
+
+Ill venture so much of my hawk or hound, 
+But twenty times so much upon my wife. 
+Luc. A hundred then. 
+Hor. Content. 
+
+
+Pet. A match! ‘tis done. 
+Hor. Who shall begin? 
+Lue. That will I. 
+
+
+Go. Biondello, bid your mistress come to me. 
+Bion. 1 go. [ Exit. 
+Bap. Son, I'll be your half, Bianca comes. 
+Luc. I'll have no halves; IH bear it all 
+
+
+myself. 
+Re-enter BIoNDELLO. 
+
+
+How now! what news? 
+Bion. Six, my mistress sends you word 80 
+That she is busy and she cannot come. 
+Pet. How! she is busy and she cannot 
+come! 
+Is that an answer? 
+
+
+308 
+
+
+Gre. Ay, and a kind one too: 
+Pray God, sir, your wife send you not a worse. 
+
+Pet. I hope, better. 
+
+Hor. Sirrah Biendello, go and entreat my 
+
+
+wife 
+To come to me forthwith. [Exit Bion. 
+Pet. O, ho! entreat her! 
+
+
+Nay, then she must needs come. Wis 
+Hor. I am afraid, sir, 
+Do what you can, yours will not be entreated. 
+
+
+Re-enter BIONDELLO. 
+
+
+Now, where ’s my wife? 90 
+Bion. She says you have some goodly jest 
+in hand: 
+She will not come; she bids you come to her. 
+Pet. Worse and worse; she will not come! 
+O vile, 
+Intolerable, rot to be endured ! 
+Sirrah Grumio, go to your mistress; 
+Say, | command her come to me. 
+[Exit Grumio. 
+Hor. | know her answer. 
+Pet. What? 
+or. She will not. 
+Pet. The fouler fortune mine, and there an 
+end. 
+Bap. Now, by my holidame, here comes 
+Katharina! 
+
+
+Re-enter KATHARINA. 
+
+
+Kath. What is your will, sir, that you send 
+
+
+for me? 100 
+Pet. Where is your sister, and Hortensio’s 
+wife? 
+
+
+Kath. They sit conferring by the parlour 
+fire. 
+Pet. Go, fetch them hither: if they deny to 
+come, 
+Swinge me them soundly forth unto their hus- 
+bands: 
+Away, I say, and bring them hither straight. 
+[Exit Katharina. 
+Luc. Here is a wonder, if you talk of a 
+wonder. 
+Hor. And so it is: 1 wonder what it bodes. 
+Pet. Marry, peace it bodes, and love and 
+guiet life, 
+And awful rule and right supremacy ; 
+And, to be short, what not, that’s sweet and 
+happy? 110 
+Bap. Now, fair befal thee, good Petruchio! 
+The wager thou hast won; and I will add 
+Unto their losses twenty thousand crowns; 
+Another dowry to another daughter, 
+For she is changed, as she had never been. 
+Pet. Nay, | will win my wager better yet 
+And show more sign of her obedience, 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. Il 
+
+
+Her new-built virtue and obedience. 
+
+See where she comes and brings your froward 
+wives 
+
+As prisoners to her womanly persuasion. 120 
+
+
+Re-enter KATHARINA, with BIANCA and 
+Widow. 
+
+
+Katharine, that cap of yours becomes you not: 
+Off with that bauble, throw it under-foot. 
+Wid. Lord, let me never have a cause to 
+sigh, 
+Till I be brought to such a silly pass! 
+Bian. Fie! what a foolish duty call you 
+this? 
+Luc. I would your duty were as foolish 
+too: 
+The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca, 
+Hath cost me an hundred crowns since sup- 
+per-time. 
+Bian. The more fool you, for laying on my 
+duty. 
+Pet, Katharine, I charge thee, tell these 
+headstrong women 130 
+What duty they do owe their lords and hus- 
+bands. 
+Wid. Come, come, you're mocking: we 
+will have no telling. 
+Pet. Come on, I say; and first begin with 
+her. : 
+Wid. She shall not. 
+Pet. | say she shall: and first begin with her. 
+Kath. Fie, fie! unknit that threatening un- 
+kind brow, 
+And dart not scornful glances from those eyes, 
+To wound thy ford, thy king, thy governor: 
+It blots thy, beauty as frosts do bite the meads, 
+Confounds thy fame as whirlwinds shake fair 
+buds, 140 
+And in no sense is meet or amiable. 
+A woman moved is like a fountain troubled, 
+Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty; 
+And while it is so, none so dry or thirsty 
+Will deign to sip or touch one drop of it. 
+Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, 
+Thy Let they sovereign; one that cares for 
+thee, 
+And for thy maintenance commits his body 
+To painful labour both by sea and land, 
+To watch the night in storms, the day in cold, 
+Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure and 
+safe; 151 
+And craves no other tribute at thy hands 
+But love, fair looks and true obedience; 
+Too little payment for so great a debt. 
+Such duty as the subject owes the prince 
+Even such a woman oweth to her husband; 
+And when she is froward, peevish. sullen, sour, 
+And not obedient to his honest will, 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. II] 
+
+
+THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 
+
+
+30% 
+
+
+, 
+
+
+_ What is she but a foul contending rebel 
+
+And graceless traitor to her loving lord? 160 
+
+I am ashamed that women are so simple 
+
+To offer war where they should kneel for 
+peace, 
+
+Or seek for rule, supremacy and sway, 
+
+When they are bound to serve, love and obey. 
+
+Why are our bodies soft and weak and smooth, 
+
+Unapt to toil and trouble in the world, 
+
+But that our soft conditions and our hearts 
+
+Should well agree with our external parts? 
+
+Come, come, you froward and unable worms! 
+
+My mind hath been as big as one of yours, 170 
+
+My heart as great, my reason haply more, 
+
+To bandy word for word and frown for 
+frown; 
+
+But now I see our lances are but straws, 
+
+Our strength as weak, our weakness past com- 
+pare, 
+
+That seeming to be most which we indeed least 
+are. 
+
+Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot, 
+
+
+And place your hands below your husband's 
+foot: 
+In token of which duty, if he please, 
+My hand is ready; may it do him ease. 
+Pet. Why, there ’s a wench! Come on, and 
+kiss me, Kate. 180 
+Luc. Well, go thy ways, old lad; for thou 
+shalt ha ’t. 
+Vin. “Tis a good hearing when children are 
+toward. 
+Luc. But a harsh hearing when women are 
+froward. 
+Pet. Come, Kate, we'll to bed. 
+We three are married, but you two are sped. 
+[To Luc.] "Twas I won the wager, though 
+you hit the white; 
+And, being a winner, God give you good 
+night! [Exeunt Petruchio and Katharina. 
+Hor. Now, go thy ways; thou hast tamed a 
+curst shrew. 
+Luc. "Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will 
+be tamed so. [Exeuni. 
+
+
+ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+DRAMATIS 
+
+
+Kinc oF FRANCE. 
+
+DuxKeE OF FLORENCE. 
+
+BerTRAM, Count of Rousillon. 
+LaFeEv, an old lord. 
+
+Paro.es, a follower of Bertram. 
+
+
+Steward, servants to the Countess of 
+Clown, Rousillon. 
+A Page, 
+
+
+CounTEss oF RousiLLoN, mother to Ber- 
+tram. 
+
+
+INEAENG 
+
+
+Scene I. Rousillon. The Count’s palace. 
+
+
+Enter BextraM, the CouNTESS OF RousiL- 
+Lon, HELENA, and LaFEu, all in black. 
+
+
+Count. In delivering my son from me, I 
+bury a second husband. 
+
+Ber. And | in going, madam, weep o’er 
+my father’s death anew: but I must attend 
+his majesty’s command, to whom I am now 
+in ward, evermore in subjection. 
+
+Laf. You shall find of the king a hus- 
+band, madam; you, sir, a father: he that so 
+generally is at all times good must of necessity 
+hold his virtue to you; whose worthiness 
+would stir it up where it wanted rather than 
+jack it where there is such abundance. 
+
+Count. What hope is there of his majes- 
+ty’s amendment? 
+
+Laf. He hath abandoned his physicians, 
+madam; under whose practices he hath per- 
+secuted time with hope, and finds no other 
+advantage in the process but only the losing 
+of hope by time. 
+
+Count. This young gentlewoman had a fa- 
+ther,—O that ‘had’! how sad a passage ‘tis! — 
+whose skill was almost as great as his honesty ; 
+had it stretched so far, would have made na- 
+ture immortal, and death should have play for 
+lack of work. Would, for the king’s sake, he 
+were living! I think it would be the death 
+of the king’s disease. 
+
+Laf. How called you the man you speak 
+of, madam? 
+
+Count. He was famous, sir, in his profes- 
+
+
+sion, and it was his great right to be so: 
+Gerard de Narbon. 31 
+
+
+Laf. He was excellent indeed, madam: the 
+
+
+PERSON/E 
+
+
+HELENA, a gentlewoman protected by the 
+Countess. 
+
+An old Widow of Florence. 
+
+Diana, daughter to the Widow. 
+
+VIOLENTA, t neighbours and friends to the 
+
+
+Mariana, Widow. 
+Lords, Officers, Soldiers, &c., French and 
+Florentine. 
+Scene: Rousillon; Paris; Florence; 
+Marseilles. 
+
+
+king very lately spoke of him admiringly and 
+mourningly: he was skilful enough to have 
+lived still, if knowledge could be set up 
+against mortality. 
+
+Ber. What is it, my good lord, the king 
+languishes of ? 
+
+Laf. A fistula, my lord. 
+
+Ber. I heard not of it before. 40 
+
+Laf. 1 would it were not notorious. Was 
+this gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de 
+Narbon ? 
+
+Coun. His sole child, my lord, and be- 
+queathed to my overlooking. I have those 
+hopes of her good that her education prom- 
+ises; her dispositions she inherits, which 
+makes fair gifts«fairer; for where an unclean 
+mind carries virtuous qualities, there com- 
+mendations go with pity; they are virtues and 
+traitors too; in her they are the better for 
+their simpleness; she derives her honesty and 
+achieves her goodness. 
+
+Laf. Your commendations, 
+from her tears. 
+
+Count. "Tis the best brine a maiden can 
+season her praise in. The remembrance of 
+her father never approaches her heart but the 
+tyranny of her sorrows takes all livelihood 
+from her cheek. No more of this, Helena; 
+go to, no more; lest it be rather thought you 
+affect a sorrow than have it. 61 
+
+Hel. 1 do affect a sorrow indeed, but | 
+have it too. : 
+
+Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of 
+the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the 
+living. 
+
+Count. If the living be enemy to the grief, 
+the excess makes it soon mortal. 
+
+Ber. Madam. I desire your holy wishes. 
+
+Laf. How understand we that? 
+
+
+madam, get 
+
+
+310 
+
+
+ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+311 
+
+
+‘Count. Be thou blest, Bertram, and suc- 
+ceed thy father 
+
+{nm manners, as in shape! thy blood and virtue 
+Contend for empire in thee, and thy goodness 
+Share with thy birthright! Love all, trust a few, 
+Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy 
+Rather in power than use, and keep thy friend 
+Under thy own life’s key; be check’d for 
+
+
+silence, 
+
+But never tax’d for speech. What heaven 
+more will, 
+
+That thee may furnish and my prayers pluck 
+down, 
+
+
+Fall on thy head! Farewell, my lord; 
+
+"Tis an tnseason’d courtier; good my lord, 80 
+
+Advise him. 
+Laf. 
+
+
+He cannot want the best 
+
+
+-That shall attend his love. 
+
+
+Count. Heavens bless him! Farewell, Ber- 
+tram. [Exit. 
+Ber. [To Helena] The best wishes that 
+
+
+van be forged in your thoughts be servants to 
+vou! Be comfortable to my mother, your 
+mistress, and make much of her. 
+Laf. Farewell, pretty lady: you must hold 
+the credit of your father. 
+[Exeunt Bertram and Lafeu. 
+Hel. O, were that all! I think not on my 
+father; 9 
+And these great tears grace his remem- 
+brance more 
+
+
+“Than those I shed for him. What was he like? 
+
+
+I have forgot him: my imagination 
+Carries no favour in't but Bertram’s. 
+
+I am undone: there is no living, none, 
+
+If Bertram be away. “Twere all one 
+
+That I should love a bright particular star 
+And think to wed it, he is so above me: 
+In his bright radiance and collateral light 
+
+
+Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. 100 
+
+
+_ The ambition in my love thus plagues itself: 
+
+
+The hind that would be mated by the lion 
+Must die for love. "Twas pretty, though a 
+plague, 
+
+
+To see him every hour; to sit and draw 
+
+
+His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, 
+In our heart’s table; heart too capable 
+
+Of every line and trick of his sweet favour: 
+But now he’s gone, and my idolatrous fancy 
+Must sanctify his reliques. Who comes here? 
+
+
+Enter PAROLLEs. 
+
+
+[Aside] One that goes with him: I love him 
+
+for his sake; 110 
+And yet I know him a notorious liar, 
+Think him a great way fool, solely a coward; 
+Yet these fix’d evils sit so fit in him, 
+
+
+: That they take place, when virtue’s steely bones 
+
+
+0 | was first lost. 
+
+
++ Look bleak i’ the cold wind: withal, full oft 
+we see 
+Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly. 
+
+Par. Save you, fair queen! 
+
+Hei. And you, monarch! 
+
+Par. No. 
+
+Hel. And no. 
+
+Par. Are you meditating on virginity ? 
+
+Hel. Ay. You have some stain of soldier 
+in you: let me ask you a question. Man is 
+enemy to virginity; how may we barricado it 
+against him? 
+
+Par. Keep him out. 
+
+Hel. But he assails; and our virginity, 
+though valiant, in the defence yet is weak: 
+unfold to us some warl ke resistance. 
+
+Par. There is none: man, sitting down be- 
+fore you, will undermine you and blow you up. 
+
+Hel. Bless our poor virginity from under- 
+miners and blowers up! Is there no military 
+policy, how virgins might blow up men? 
+
+Par. Virginity being blown down, man 
+will quicklier be blown up: marry, in blowing 
+him down again, with the breach yourselves 
+made, you lose your city. It is not politic in 
+the commonwealth of nature to preserve vir- 
+ginity. Loss of virginity is rational increase 
+and there was never virgin got til virginity 
+That you were made of is 
+metal to make virgins. Virginity by being 
+once lost may be ten times found; by being 
+ever kept, it is ever lost: "tis too cold a com- 
+panion; away with ’t! 
+
+Hel. 1 will stand for’t a litle, 
+therefore I die a virgin. 
+
+Par. There's little can be said in’t; ‘tis 
+against the rule of nature. To speak on the 
+part of virginity, is to accuse your mothers; 
+which is most infallible disobedience. He 
+that hangs himself is a virgin; virginity mur- 
+ders itself; and should be buried in highways 
+out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate of- 
+fendress against nature. Virginity breeds 
+mites, much like a cheese; consumes itself 
+to the very paring, and so dies with feeding 
+his own stomach. Besides, virginity is peev- 
+ish, proud, idle, made of self-love, which is 
+the most inhibited sin in the canon. Keep it 
+not; you cannot choose but lose by ’t: out 
+witht! within ten year it will make itself 
+ten, which is a goodly increase; and the 
+principal itself not much the worse: away 
+with ‘t! 
+
+Hel. How might one do, sir, to lose it to 
+
+
+her own liking? 
+
+Par. Let me see: marry, ill, to like him 
+that ne’er it likes. ’Tis a commodity will lose 
+the gloss with lying; the longer kept, the less 
+
+
+worth: off with’t while ‘tis vendible; answer 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+though 
+
+
+312 
+
+
+the time of request. Virginity, like an old 
+courtier, wears her cap out of fashion: richly 
+suited, but unsuitable: just like the brooch 
+and the tooth-pick, which wear not now. 
+Your date is beiter in your pie and your por- 
+ridge than in your cheek: and your virginity, 
+your old virgin ty, is like one of our French 
+withered pears, it looks ill, it eats drily; marry, 
+"tis a withered pear; it was formerly better; 
+marry, yet ‘tis a withered pear: will you any 
+thing with it? 
+Hel, + Not my virginity yet.... 
+There shall your master have a thousand loves, 
+A mother and a mistress and a friend, 181 
+A pheenix, captain and an enemy, 
+A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign, 
+A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear; 
+His humble ambition, proud humility, 
+His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet, 
+His faith, his sweet dsaster; with a world 
+Of pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms, 
+_ That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he— 
+I know not what he shall. God send him 
+well! 190 
+The court ’s a learning place, and he is one— 
+Par. What one, i faith? 
+Hel. That 1 wish well. 
+Par. What's pity ? 
+Hel. That wishing well had not a body 
+int, 
+Which might be felt; that we, the poorer born, 
+Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes, 
+Might w:th effects of them follow our friends, 
+And show what we alone must think, which 
+never 
+Returns us thanks. 
+
+
+‘Tis pity— 
+
+
+200 
+Enter Page. 
+
+
+Page. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls 
+for you. [Exit. 
+
+Par. Little Helen, farewell; if I can re- 
+member thee, | will think of thee at court. 
+
+Hel. Monsieur Parolles, you were born 
+under a charitable star. 
+
+Par. Under Mars, I. 
+
+Hel. 1 especially think, under Mars. 
+
+Par. Why under Mars? 
+
+Hel. The wars have so kept you under that 
+you must needs be born under Mars. 210 
+
+Par. When he was predominant. 
+
+Hel. When he was retrograde, I think, 
+
+rather. 
+
+Par. Why think you so? 
+
+Hel. You go so much backward when you 
+fight. 
+
+Par. That's for advantage. 
+
+Hel. So is running away, when fear pro- 
+voses the safety: but the composition that your | 
+
+
+ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+[Act I, Se. Il 
+
+
+valour and fear makes in you is a virtue of a 
+good wing, and I like the wear well. 219 
+Par. | am so full of businesses, I cannot 
+answer thee acutely. I will return perfect 
+courtier; in the which, my instruction shall 
+serve to naturalize thee, so thou wilt be ca- 
+pable of a courtier’s counsel and understand 
+what advice shall thrust upon thee; else thou 
+diest in th'ne unthankfulness, and thine igno- 
+rance makcs thee away: farewell. When 
+thou hast leisure, say thy prayers; when thou 
+hast none, remember thy friends: get thee a 
+good husband, and use him as he uses thee: 
+so, farewell. 230 
+[ Exit. 
+Hel. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, 
+Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky 
+Gives us free scope, only doth backward pull 
+Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull. 
+What power is it which mounts my love so high, 
+That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye? 
+The mightiest space in fortune nature brings 
+To join like likes and kiss like native things. 
+Impossible be strange attempts to those 239 
+That weigh their pains in sense and do suppose 
+What hath been cannot be: who ever strove 
+To show her merit, that did miss her love? 
+The king's disease—my project may deceive me, 
+But my intents are fix’d and will not leave me. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+Paris. The Kine’'s palace. 
+
+
+Flourish of cornets. Enter the KiNG OF 
+France, with letters, and divers Attendants. 
+
+
+Scene Il. 
+
+
+King. The Florentines and Senoys are by 
+the ears; 
+Have fought with equal fortune and continue 
+A braving war. 
+First Lord. So ‘tis reported, sir. 
+King. Nay, ‘tis most credible; we here re- 
+ceive it 
+A certainty, vouch’d from our cousin Austria, 
+With caution that the Florentine will move us 
+For speedy aid; wherein our dearest friend 
+Prejudicates the business and would seem 
+To have us make denial. 
+
+First Lord. His love and wisdom, 
+Approved so to your majesty, may plead 10 
+For amplest credence. 
+
+King. He hath arm’d our answer, 
+And Florence is denied before he comes: 
+Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to see 
+The Tuscan service, freely have they leave 
+To stand on either part. 
+
+Sec. Lord. It well may serve 
+A nursery to our gentry, who are sick 
+For breathing and exploit. 
+
+King. What's he comes here? 
+
+
+Act I, Sc. III] 
+
+
+ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+313 
+
+
+Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLEsS. 
+
+
+First Lord. It is the Count Rousillon, my 
+good lord, 
+Young Bertram. 
+
+King. Youth, thou bear’st thy father’s face; 
+Frank nature, rather.curious than in haste, 20 
+Hath well composed thee. Thy father’s moral 
+
+parts 
+Mayst thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris. 
+Ber. My thanks and duty are your majesty’s. 
+King. 1 would I had that corporal sound- 
+ness now, 
+As when thy father and myself in friendship 
+First tried our soldiership! He did look far 
+Into the service of the time and was 
+Discipled of the bravest: he lasted long; 
+But on us both did haggish age steal on 
+And wore us out of act. It much repairs me 30 
+To talk of your good father. In his youth 
+He had the wit which I can well observe 
+To-day in our young lords; but they may jest 
+Till their own scorn return to them unnoted 
+Ere they can hide their levity in honor: 
+4So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness 
+Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were, 
+His equal had awaked them, and his honour, 
+Clock to itself, knew the true minute when 
+Exception bid him speak, and at this time 40 
+His tongue obey’d his hand: who were below 
+him 
+He used as creatures of another place 
+And bow’'d his eminent top to their low ranks, 
+Making them proud of his humility, 
++In their poor praise he humbled. Such a man 
+Might be a copy to these younger times; 
+Which, follow’d well, would demonstrate them 
+
+
+now 
+But goers backward. 
+Ber. His good remembrance, sir, 
+
+
+Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb; 
+
+So in approof lives not his epitaph 
+
+As in your royal speech. 
+
+King. Would I were with him! 
+
+always say— 
+
+Methinks I hear him now; his plausive words 
+
+He scatter’d not in ears, but grafted them, 
+
+To grow there and to bear,—' Let me not 
+live,,— 
+
+This his good melancholy oft began, 
+
+On the catastrophe and heel of pastime, 
+
+When it was out,— Let me not live,’ quoth he, 
+
+* After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff 
+
+Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses 
+
+All but new things disdain; whose judgements 
+are 61 
+
+Mere fathers of their garments; whose con- 
+stancies 
+
+
+Expire before their fashions.” This he wish'd: 
+
+
+50 
+He would 
+
+
+I after him do after him wish too, 
+Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home, 
+I quickly were dissolved from my hive, 
+To give some labourers room. 
+Sec. Lord. You are loved, sir; 
+They that least lend it you shall lack you first. 
+King. I fill a place, I know 't. How long 
+is 't, count, 
+Since the physician at your father’s died? 70 
+He was much famed. 
+Ber. Some six months since, my lord. 
+King. If he were living, I would try him yet. 
+Lend me an arm; the rest have worn me out 
+With several applications: nature and sick- 
+ness 
+Debate it at their leisure. 
+My son's no dearer. 
+
+
+Welcome, count; 
+
+
+Ber. Thank your majesty. 
+[Exeunt. Flourish. 
+Scene III. Rousillon. The Count’s palace. 
+
+
+Enter Countess, Steward, and Clown. 
+
+
+Count. I will now hear; what say you of 
+this gentlewoman ? 
+
+Stew. Madam, the care I have had to even 
+your content, ! wish might be found in the 
+calendar of my past endeavours; for then we 
+wound our modesty and make foul the clear- 
+ness of our deservings, when of ourselves we 
+publish them. 
+
+Count. What does this knave here? Get 
+you gone, sirrah: the complaints I have heard 
+of you I do not all believe; ‘tis my slowness 
+that I do not; for I know you lack not folly 
+to commit them, and have ability enough to 
+make such knaveries yours. 
+
+Clo. ‘Tis not unknown to you, madam, I 
+am a poor fellow. 
+
+Count. Well, sir. 
+
+Clo. No, madam, ‘ts not so well that I am 
+poor, though many of the rich are damned: 
+but, if I may have your ladyship’s good will 
+to go to the world, Isbel the woman and I 
+will do as we may. 21 
+
+Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar? 
+
+Clo. 1 do beg your good will in this case. 
+
+Count. In what case? 
+
+Clo. In Isbel’s case and mine own. Serv- 
+ice is no heritage: and J thnk I shall never 
+have the blessing of God till I have issue o” 
+my body; for they say barnes are blessings. 
+
+Count. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt 
+marry. 29 
+
+Clo. My poor body, madam, requires it: I 
+am driven on by the flesh; and he must 
+needs go that the devil drives. 
+
+Count. Is this all your worship’s reason ? 
+
+Clo. Faith, madam, I have other holy rea- 
+sons, such as they are. 
+
+
+314 
+
+
+ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+vk ll SEs at rea 
+jase 
+
+
+[Act I, Sc. If 
+
+
+Count. May the world know them? 
+
+Clo. I have been, madam, a wicked crea- 
+ture, as you and all flesh and blood are; and, 
+indeed, I do marry that | may repent. 
+
+Count. Thy marriage, sooner than thy 
+wickedness. 4\ 
+
+Clo. I am out o’ friends, madam; and | 
+hope to have friends for my wife's sake. 
+
+Count. Such friends are thine enemies, 
+knave. 
+
+Clo. You're in great 
+
+
+shallow, madam, 
+
+
+friends; for the knaves come to do that for 
+
+
+me which I am aweary of. He that ears my 
+land spares my team and gives me leave to in 
+the crop; if I be his cuckold, he’s my drudge: 
+he that comforts my wife is the cherisher of 
+my flesh and blood; he that cherisheth 
+my flesh and blood loves my flesh and 
+blood; he that loves my flesh and blood is 
+my friend: ergo, he that kisses my wife is my 
+friend. If men could be contented to be 
+what they are, there were no fear in mar- 
+riage; for young Charbon the puritan and 
+old Poysam the papist, howsome’er their 
+hearts are severed in religion, their heads are 
+both one; they may joul horns together, like 
+any deer i’ the herd. 
+
+Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed 
+and calumnious knave> 61 
+
+Clo. A prophet I, madam; and I speak 
+the truth the next way: 
+
+For I the ballad will repeat, 
+Which men full true shall find; 
+
+Your marriage comes by destny, 
+Your cuckoo sings by kind, 
+
+Count. Get you gone, sir; I'll talk with 
+you more anon. 
+
+Stew. May it please you, madam, that he 
+bid Helen come to you: of her I am to speak. 
+
+Count. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I 
+would speak with her; Helen, I mean. 
+
+Clo. Was this fair face the cause, quoth she, 
+
+Why the Grecians sacked Troy? 
+Fond done, done fond, 
+
+Was this King Priam’s joy? 
+With that she sighed as she stood, 
+With that she sighed as she stood, 
+
+And gave this sentence then; 
+Among nine bad if one be good, 
+Among nine bad if one be good, 
+
+There ’s yet one good in ten. 
+
+Count. What, one good in ten? you cor- 
+rupt the song, sirrah. 
+
+Clo. One good woman in ten, madam; 
+which is a purifying o’ the song: would God 
+would serve the world so all the year; we ‘Id 
+find no fault with the tithe-woman, if I were 
+the parson. One in ten, quoth a’! An we 
+might have a good woman born but one every 
+
+
+80 
+
+
+blazing star, or at an earthquake, ‘twould mend 
+the lottery well: a man may draw his heart 
+out, ere a’ pluck one. 
+
+Count. You'll be gone, sir knave, and de 
+as I command you. 
+
+Clo. That man should be at woman's com- 
+mand, and yet no hurt done! Though hon- 
+esty be no puritan, yet it will do no hurt; it 
+will wear the surplice of Humility over the 
+black gown of a big heart. I am going, for- 
+sooth: the business is for Helen to come 
+hither, [Exit. 
+
+Ceunit. Well, now. 
+
+Stew. I know, madam, you love your gen- 
+tlewoman entirely. 
+
+
+Count. Faith, I do: her father bequeathed - 
+
+
+her to me; and she herself, without other ad- 
+vantage, may lawfully make title to as much 
+love as she finds: there is more owing her 
+than is paid; and more shall be paid her than 
+she ‘ll demand, 109 
+
+Stew. Madam, I was very late more near 
+her than I think she wished me: alone she was, 
+and did communicate to herself her own words 
+to her own ears; she thought, I dare vow for 
+her, they touched not any stranger sense. Her 
+matter was, she loved your son: Fortune, she 
+said, was no goddess, that had put such differ- 
+ence betwixt their two estates; Love no god, 
+that would not extend his might, only where 
+qualities were level; Dian no queen of vir- 
+gins, that would suffer her poor knight sur- 
+prised, without rescue in the first assault or 
+ransom afterward. This she delivered in the 
+most bitter touch. of sorrow that e’er I heard 
+virgin exclaim in: which I held my duty 
+speed ly to acquaint you withal; sithence, in 
+the loss that may happen, it concerns you 
+something to know it. 
+
+Count. You have discharged this honestly; 
+keep it to yourself: many likelihoods informed 
+me of this before, which hung so tottering in 
+the balance that I could neither believe nor 
+misdoubt. Pray you, leave me: stall this in 
+your bosom; and I thank you for your hones| 
+care: I will speak with you further anon. 
+
+
+[Exit Steward, 
+Enter HELENA. 
+
+
+Even so it was with me when | was young: 
+If ever we are nature's, these are ours; this 
+thorn 
+Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong; 
+Our blood to us, this to our blood is born; 
+It is the show and seal of nature’s truth, 
+Where love's ‘strong passion is impress’d in 
+
+
+youth: 
+140 
+
+
+By our remembrances of days foregone, 
+
+
+‘eA 
+
+
+a ce" 4 
+
+
+Aer I, Sc. INy 
+
+
+44 
+
+
+ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+315 
+
+
++Such were our faults, or then we thought 
+
+them none, 
+
+Her eye is sick on’t: I observe her now. 
+Hel. What is your pleasure, madam? 
+Count. You know, Helen, 
+
+I am a mother to you. 
+
+Hel. Maine honourable mistress. 
+
+Count. Nay, a mother: 
+Why not a mother? When I said ‘a mother,’ 
+Methought you saw a serpent: what's in 
+
+* mother,’ 
+
+That you start at it? I say, 1 am your mother; 
+
+And put you in the catalogue of those 
+
+That were enwombed mine: ‘tis often seen 150 
+
+Adoption strives with nature and choice breeds 
+
+A native slip to us from foreign seeds: 
+
+You ne’er oppress’d me with a mother’s groan, 
+
+Yet I express to you a mother’s care: 
+
+God’s mercy, maiden! does it curd thy blood 
+
+To say I am thy mother? What's the matter, 
+
+That this distemper'd messenger of wet 
+
+The many-colour’d Iris, rounds thine eyes? 
+
+Why? that you are my daughter? 
+
+Hel. That I am not. 
+
+Count, I say, I am your mother. 
+
+Hel. Pardon, madam; 60 
+The Count Rousillon cannot be my brother: 
+I am from humble, he from honour’d name; 
+No note upon my parents, his all noble: 
+
+My master, my dear lord he is; and I 
+
+His servant live, and will his vassal die: 
+
+He must not be my brother. 
+
+
+Count. Nor I your mother? 
+Hel. You are my mother, madam; would 
+you were,— 
+So that my lord your son were not my 
+brother,— 
+Indeed my mother! or were you both our 
+mothers, 
+
+
+I care no more for than I do for heaven, 170 
+So I were not his sister. Can't no other, 
+But, I your daughter, he must be my brother ? 
+Count. Yes, Helen, you might be my 
+daughter-in-law: 
+God shield you mean it not! daughter and 
+mother 
+So strive upon your pulse. What, pale again? 
+My fear hath catch’d your fondness: now I see 
+The mystery of your loneliness, and find 
+Your salt tears’ head: now to all sense ‘tis 
+gross 
+You love my son; invention is ashamed, 
+Against the proclamation of thy passion, 180 
+To say thou dost not: therefore tell me true; 
+But tell me then, ‘tis so; for, look, thy cheeks 
+Confess it, th’ one to th’ other; and thine eyes 
+See it so grossly shown in thy behaviours 
+That in their kind they speak it: only sin 
+And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue, 
+
+
+That truth should be suspected. Speak, is ’t so? 
+If it be so, you have wound a goodly clew; 
+If it be not, forswear 't: howe’er, I charge thee, 
+As heaven shall work in me for thine avail, 190 
+To tell me truly. 
+Hel. Good madam, pardon me! 
+Count. Do you love my son? 
+
+
+Hel. Your pardon, noble mistress! 
+Count. Love you my son? 
+Hel. Do not you love him, madam? 
+Count. Go not about; my love hath in’t a 
+bond, 
+Whereof the world takes note: come, come, 
+disclose 
+
+
+The state of your affection; for your passions 
+Have to the full appeach’d. 
+
+Hel. Then, I confess, 
+Here on my knee, before h gh heaven and you, 
+That before you, and next unto high heaven, 
+I love your son. 200 
+My friends were poor, but honest; so’s my 
+
+love: 
+Be not offended; for it hurts not him 
+That he is loved of me: I follow him not 
+By any token of presumptuous suit; 
+Nor would I have him till I do deserve him; 
+Yet never know how that desert should be. 
+I know I love in vain, strive against hope; 
+Yet in this capt ous and intenible sieve 
+I still pour in the waters of my love 
+And lack not to lose still: thus, Indian-like, 
+Religious in mine error, I adore 211 
+The sun, that looks upon his worshipper, 
+But knows of him no more. My dearest madam, 
+Let not your hate encounter with my love 
+For loving where you do: but if yourself, 
+Whose aged honour c.tes a virtuous youth, 220 
+Did ever in so true a flame of liking 
+Wish chastely and love dearly, that your Dian 
+Was both herself and love; O, then, give pity 
+To her, whose state is such that cannot choose 
+But lend and give where she is sure to lose; 221 
+That seeks not to find that her search implies, 
+But riddle-like lives sweetly where she dies! 
+
+
+Count. Had you not lately an intent,— 
+speak truly,— 
+To go to Paris? 
+Hel. Madam, I had. . 
+Count. Wherefore? tell true. 
+Hel, Iwill tell truth; by grace itself I swear. 
+
+
+You know my father left me some prescrip- 
+tions 
+
+Of rare and proved effects, such as his reading 
+
+And manifest experience had collected 
+
+For general sovereignty; and that he will’d 
+me 
+
+In heedfull’st reservation to bestow them, 231 
+
+As notes whose faculties inclusive were 
+
+More than they were in note: amongst the rest 
+
+
+316 
+
+
+ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+[Acr If Se. 1 
+
+
+SS SS SS eee eee eee 
+
+
+There is a remedy, approved, set down, 
+To cure the desperate languishings whereof 
+The king is render’d lost. 
+Count. This was your motive 
+For Paris, was it? speak. 
+Hel. My lord your son made me to think 
+of this; 
+Else Paris and the medicine and the king 
+Had from the conversation of my thoughts 240 
+Haply been absent then. 
+Count. But think you, Helen, 
+If you should tender your supposed a‘d, 
+He would receive it? he and his physicians 
+Are of a mind; he, that they cannot help him, 
+They, that they cannot help: how shall they 
+credit 
+A poor unlearned virgin, when the schools, 
+Embowell’d of their doctrine, have left off 
+The danger to itself > 
+Hel. There ’s something in’t, 
+More than my father’s sk-ll, which was the 
+greatest 
+Of his profession, that his good receipt 250 
+Shall for my legacy be sanctified 
+By the luckiest stars in heaven: and, would 
+your honour 
+But give me leave to try success, I ‘Id venture 
+The well-lost life of mine on his grace’s cure 
+By such a day and hour. 
+Count. Dost thou believe it? 
+Hel. Ay, madam, knowingly. 
+Count. Why, Helen, thou shalt have my 
+leave and love, 
+Means and attendants and my loving greetings 
+To those of mine in court: I ‘Il stay at home 
+And pray God's blessing into thy attempt: 260 
+Be gone to-morrow; and be sure of this, 
+What | can help thee to thou shalt not miss. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT II. 
+
+
+Scene I. Paris. The Kine's palace. 
+
+
+Flourish of cornets. Enter the Kina, attended 
+with divers young Lords taking leave for the 
+Florentirie war; BERTRAM, and PAROLLES. 
+
+
+King. Farewell, young lords; these warlike 
+princ ples 
+Do not throw from you: and you, my lords, 
+farewell: 
+Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain, all 
+The gift doth stretch itself as ‘tis received, 
+And is enough for both. 
+First Lord. ‘Tis our hope, sir, 
+After well enter’d soldiers, to return 
+And find your grace in health. 
+King. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my 
+heart 
+Will not confess he owes the malady 
+
+
+That doth my life besiege. 
+lords; 
+Whether I live or die, be you the sons 
+Of worthy Frenchmen: let higher Italy,-— 
++Those bated that inherit but the fall 
+Of the last monarchy,—see that you come 
+Not to woo honour, but to wed it; when 
+The bravest questant shrinks, find what you 
+seek, 
+That fame may cry you loud: I say, farewell. 
+Sec. Lord. Health, at your bidding, serve 
+your majesty! 
+King. Those girls of Italy, take heed of 
+them: 
+They say, our French lack language to deny, 
+If they demand: beware of being captives, 
+Before you serve. 
+Both. Our hearts receive your warnings, 
+King. Farewell. Come hither to me. 
+[Exit, attended. 
+First Lord. O my sweet lord, that you 
+will stay behind us! 
+Par. "Tis not his fault, the spark. 
+
+
+Farewell, young 
+
+
+Sec. Lord. O, ‘tis brave wars! 
+Par. Most admirable: I have seen those 
+wars. 
+Ber. | am commanded here, and kept a 
+coil with 
+‘Too young’ and ‘the next year" and ‘'tis 
+too early.’ 
+
+
+Par. An thy mind stand to't boy, steal 
+away bravely. 
+Ber. | shall stay here the forehorse to a 
+smock, 
+Creaking my shees on the plain. masonry, 
+Till honour be bought up and no sword worn 
+But one to dance with! By heaven, I'll 
+steal away. 
+First Lord. There's honour in the theft. 
+Par. Commit it, count, 
+Sec. Lord. 1 am your accessary; and so, 
+farewell. : 
+Ber. 1 grow to you, and our parting is a 
+tortured body. j 
+First Lord, Farewell, captain. 
+Sec. Lord. Sweet Monsieur Parolles! 39 
+Par. Noble heroes, my sword and yours 
+are kin. Good sparks and lustrous, a word, 
+good metals: you shall find in the regiment of 
+the Spinii one Captain Spurio, with his cica- 
+trice, an emblem of war, here on his sinister . 
+cheek; it was this very sword entrenched 
+it: say to him, I live; and observe his re- 
+ports for me. 
+First Lord. We shall, noble captain. 
+[Exeunt Lords, 
+Par. Mars dote on you for his novices! 
+what will ye do? 
+Ber. Stay: the king. 50 
+
+
+Ose 
+
+
+Act Ul, Sc. I] 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+Re-enter Kinc. Bertram and ParoLies 
+retire, 
+
+
+Par. [To Ber.] Use a more spacious cere- 
+mony to the noble lords; you have restrained 
+yourself within the list of too cold an adieu: 
+.be more expressive to them: for they wear 
+themselves in the cap of the time, there do 
+. muster true gait, eat, speak, and move under 
+the influence of the most received star; and 
+though the devil lead the measure, such are 
+to be followed: after them, and take a more 
+dilated farewell. 
+
+Ber. And | will do so. 60 
+
+Par. Worthy fellows; and like to prove 
+most sinewy sword-men. 
+
+[Exeunt Bertram and Parolles. 
+
+
+Enter Larev. 
+
+
+Laf. [Kneeling.] Pardon, my lord, for me 
+and for my tidings. 
+King. I'll fee thee to stana up. 
+
+
+\ Laf. Then here’s a man stands, that has 
+; brought his pardon. 
+
+: J would you had kneel’d, my lord, to ask me 
+mercy, 
+
+‘ And that at my bidding you could so stand up. 
+
+
+King. I would I had; so | had broke thy 
+pate, 
+And ask’d thee mercy for 't. 
+Laf. Good faith, across: but, my good 
+lord, ‘tis thus; 70 
+Will you be cured of your infirmity ? 
+King. No. 
+Laf. O, will you eat no grapes» my royal 
+fox? 
+Yes, but you will my noble grapes, an if 
+My royal fox could reach them: I have seen 
+a medicine 
+That's able to breathe life into a stone, 
+Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary 
+With spritely fire and motion; whose simple 
+touch 
+Is powerful to araise King Pepin, nay, 
+To give great Charlemain a pen in's hand 80 
+And write to her a love-line. 
+King. What ‘her’ is this? 
+Laf. Why, Doctor She: my lord, there’s 
+one arrived, 
+If you will see her: now, by my faith and 
+honour, 
+If seriously I may convey my thoughts 
+In this my light deliverance, | have spoke 
+With one that, in her sex, her years, profession, 
+Wisdom and constancy, hath amazed me more 
+ath dare blame my weakness: will you see 
+er, 
+For that is her demand, and know her business ? 
+That done, laugh well at me. 
+King. Now, good Lafeu, 90 
+
+
+ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+317 
+
+
+Bring in the admiration; that we with thee 
+May spend our wonder too, or take off thine 
+By wondering how thou took’st it. 
+Laf. Nay, I'll fit you, 
+And not be all day neither. [ Exit. 
+King. Thus he his special nothing ever 
+prologues. 
+
+
+Re-enter LAFEU, with HELENA. 
+
+
+Laf. Nay, come your ways. 
+
+King. This haste hath wings indeed. 
+
+Laf. Nay, come your ways; 
+
+Th’s is his majesty; say your mind to him: 
+
+A traitor you do look like; but such traitors 
+
+His majesty seldom fears: I am Cressid’s uncle, 
+
+That dare leave two together; fare you well. 
+[Exit. - 
+
+King. Now, fair one, does your business 
+
+follow us? 
+
+Hel. Ay, my good lord. 
+
+Gerard de Narbon was my father; 
+In what he did profess, well found. 
+King. I knew him. 
+Hel. The rather will I spare my praises 
+towards him; 
+Knowing him is enough. On’s bed of death 
+Many rece’pts he gave me; chiefly one, 
+Which, as the dearest issue of his practice, 
+And of his old experience the only darling, 110 
+He bade me store up, as a triple eye, 
+Safer than mine own two, more dear; I 
+have so; 
+And, hearing your high majesty is touch’d 
+With that malignant cause wherein the honour 
+Of my dear father’s gift stands chief in power, 
+I come to tender it and my appliance 
+With all bound humbleness. 
+
+King. We thank you, maiden; 
+But may not be so credulous of cure, 
+When our most learned doctors leave us and 
+The congregated college have concluded 120 
+That labouring art can never ransom nature 
+From her inaidible estate; I say we must not 
+So stain our judgement, or corrupt our hope, 
+To prostitute our past-cure malady 
+To empirics, or to dissever so 
+Our great self and our credit, to esteem 
+A senseless help which help past sense we 
+
+deem. 
+
+Hel. My duty then shall pay me for my 
+
+pains: 
+{ will no more enforce mine office on you; 
+Humbly entreat’ng from your royal thoughts 
+A modest one, to bear me back again. 131 
+King. I cannot give thee less, to be call’d 
+grateful: 
+Thou thought’st to help me; and such thanks 
+{ give 
+As one near death to those that wish him live: 
+
+
+318 
+
+
+But what at full I know, thou know’st no part, 
+1 kriowing all my peril, thou no art, 
+
+Hel. What I can do can do no hurt to try, 
+
+Since you set up your rest ’gainst remedy, 
+
+He that of greatest works is finisher 
+
+Oft does them by the weakest minister: 140 
+
+So holy writ in babes hath judgement shown, 
+
+When judges have been babes; great floods 
+have flown 
+
+From simple sources, and great seas have dried 
+
+When miracles have by the greatest been 
+denied. 
+
+Oft expectation fails and most oft there 
+
+Where most it promises, and oft it hits 
+
+Where hope is coldest and despair most fits. 
+
+King. 1 must not hear thee; fare thee well, 
+
+kind maid; 
+
+Thy pains not used must by thyself be paid: 
+
+Proffers not took reap thanks for their reward. 
+
+Hel. Inspired merit so by breath is barr’d: 
+It is not so with Him that all things knows 
+As ‘tis with us that square our guess by shows; 
+But most it is presumption in us when 
+The help of heaven we count the act of men. 
+Dear sir, to my endeavours give consent; 
+
+Of heaven, not me, make an experiment. 
+
+} am not an impostor that proclaim 
+
+Myself against the level of mine aim; 
+
+But know I thnk and think 1 know most sure 
+
+My art is not past power nor you pastcure. 161 
+King. Art thou so confident? within what 
+
+space 
+
+Hopest thou my cure? 
+
+Hel. The great’st grace lending grace, 
+Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring 
+Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring, 
+
+Ere twice in murk and occidental damp 
+Moist Hesperus hath quench’d his sleepy lamp, 
+Or four and twenty times the pilot's glass 
+Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass, 
+What is infirm from your sound parts shall 
+fly, 170 
+Health shall live free and sickness freely die. 
+King. Upon thy certainty and confidence 
+What darest thou venture? 
+el. Tax of impudence, 
+A strumpet’s boldness, a divulged shame 
+Traduced by odious ballads: my maiden’s name 
+Sear’d otherwise; nay, worse—if worse—ex- 
+tended 
+With vilest torture let my life be ended. 
+King. Methinks in thee some blessed spirit 
+doth speak 
+His powerful sound within an organ weak: 
+And what impossibility would slay 
+In common sense, sense saves another way. 
+Thy life is dear; for all that life can rate 
+Worth name of life in thee hath estimate, 
+Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, all 
+
+
+180 
+
+
+ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+That happiness and prime can happy call: 
+Thou this to hazard needs and must intimate 
+Skill infinite or monstrous desperate. 
+
+Sweet practiser, thy physic | will try, 
+
+That ministers thine own death if I die. 
+
+Hel. If I break time, or flinch in property 
+Of what I spoke, unpitied let me die, 191 
+And wise deserved: not helping, death’s my 
+
+ee; 
+But, if help, what do you promise me? 
+
+King. Make thy demand. 
+
+Hel. But will you make it even? 
+
+King. Ay, by my sceptre and my hopes of 
+
+heaven. 
+
+Hel. Then shalt thou give me with thy 
+
+kingly hand 
+What husband in thy power I will command: 
+Exempted be from me the arrogance 
+To choose from forth the royal blood of 
+France, 
+My low and humble name to propagate 200 
+With any branch or image of thy state; 
+But such a one, thy vassal, whom I know 
+Is free for me to ask, thee to bestow. 
+King. Here is my hand; the premises ob- 
+served, 
+Thy will by my performance shall be served: 
+So make the choice of thy own time, for I, 
+Thy resolved patient, on thee still rely. 
+More should I question thee, and more I must, 
+Though more to know could not be more to 
+
+
+trust, 
+From whence thou camest, how tended on: 
+but rest 210 
+
+
+Unquestion’d welcome and undoubted blest. 
+
+Give me some help here, ho! If thou proceed 
+
+As high as word, my deed shall match thy meed. 
+[Flourish. Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. Rousillon. The Count’s palace. 
+Enter Countess and CLOWN. 
+
+
+Count. Come on, sir; I shall now put you 
+to the height of your breeding. 
+
+Clo. I will show myself highly fed and 
+lowly taught: I know my business is but to the 
+court. 
+
+Count. To the court! why, what place 
+make you special, when you put off that with 
+such contempt? But to the court! | 
+
+Clo. Truly, madam, if God have lent a 
+man any manners, he may eas ly put it off at 
+court: he that cannot make a leg, put off ’s 
+cap, kiss his hand and say nothing, has neither 
+leg, hands, lip, nor cap; and indeed such a 
+fellow, to say precisely, were not for the 
+court; but for me, J have an answer will 
+serve all men. 
+
+Count. Marry, that’s a bountiful answer 
+that fits all questions. 
+
+
+[Act H, Se, I 
+
+
+~ 
+
+
+ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+315 
+
+
+Clo. It is like a barber’s chair that fits all 
+
+
+buttocks, the pin-buttock, the quatch-buttock, 
+
+
+__ whipping, and ‘spare not me’? 
+
+
+think. 
+
+
+the brawn buttock, or any buttock. 
+
+Count. Will your answer serve fit to all 
+questions ? 21 
+
+Clo. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of 
+an attorney, as your French crown for your 
+taffeta punk, as Tib’s rush for Tom's fore- 
+finger, as a pancake for Shrove Tuesday, a 
+morris for May-day, as the nail to his hole, 
+the cuckold to his horn, as a scolding quean 
+to a wrangling knave, as the nun’s lip to the 
+friar’s mouth, nay, as the pudding to his skin. 
+
+Count, Have you, I say, an answer of such 
+
+
+fimess for all questions > 31 
+
+
+Cio. From below your duke to beneath 
+your constable, it will fit any question. 
+
+Count. It must be an answer of most mon- 
+strous size that must fit all demands. 
+_ Clo. But a trifle neither, in good faith, if 
+the learned should speak truth of it: here it is, 
+and all that belongs to't. Ask me if I am a 
+courtier: it shall do you no harm to learn. 39 
+
+Count. To be young again, if we could: | 
+will be a fool in question, hoping to be the 
+wiser by your answer. I pray you, sir, are 
+you a courtier? 
+
+Clo. O. Lord, sir! There's a simple put- 
+ting off. More, more, a hundred of them. 
+
+Count, Sir, I am a poor friend of yours, 
+that loves you. 
+
+Clo. O Lord, sir! 
+me. 
+
+Count. I think, sir, you can eat none of 
+this homely meat. 
+
+Cio. © Lord, sir! Nay, put me to’t, I 
+warrant you. 51 
+
+Coant. You were lately whipped, sir, as | 
+
+
+Thick, thick, spare not 
+
+
+Clo. O Lord, sir! spare not me. 
+
+Count. Do not cry, ‘O Lord, sir!’ at your 
+Indeed your 
+‘O Lord, sir!’ is very sequent to your whip- 
+ping: you would answer very well to a 
+
+
+whipping, if you were but bound to't. 
+
+
+— my *O Lord, sir!’ 
+
+
+Clo. I ne’er had worse luck in my life in 
+I see things may serve 
+long, but not serve ever. 61 
+Count, I play the noble housewife with the 
+tme, 
+To entertain ‘t so merrily with a fool. 
+Clo. O Lord, sir! why, there’t serves 
+well again. 
+Count. An end, sir; to your business. Give 
+Helen this, 
+And urge her to a present answer back: 
+Commend me to my kinsmen and my son: 
+This is not much. 
+Clo. Not much commendation to them, 70 
+
+
+Count. Not much employment for you: 
+you understand me? 
+
+Clo. Most fruitfully: I am there before my 
+legs. 
+
+Count. Haste you again. [Exeunt severally. 
+
+
+Scene III. Paris. The Kine’s palace. 
+
+
+Enter BERTRAM, LaFEU, and PAROLLEs. - 
+
+
+Laf. They say miracles are past; and we 
+have our philosophical persons, to make mod- 
+ern and familiar, things supernatural and 
+causeless. Hence it is that we make trifles of 
+terrors, ensconcing ourselves into seeming 
+knowledge, when we should submit ourselves 
+to an unknown fear. 
+
+Par. Why, ’tis the rarest argument of won- 
+der that hath shot out in our latter times. 
+
+Ber. And so ‘tis. 
+
+. To be relinquished of the artists,— 10 
+. So I say. 
+
+. Both of Galen and Paracelsus. 
+
+. So I say. 
+
+. Of all the learned and authentic fel- 
+
+
+. Right; so I say. 
+. That gave him out incurable,— 
+
+
+Par. Why, there ‘tis; so say I too. 
+
+Laf. Not to be helped,— 
+
+Par. Right: as "twere, a man assured of a— 
+
+Laf. Uncertain life, and sure death. 26 
+
+Par. Just, you say well; so would I have 
+said, 
+
+Laf. I may truly say, it is a novelty to the 
+world. : 
+
+Par. It is, indeed: if you will have it in 
+
+
+showing, you shall read it in—what do ye call 
+there? 
+
+Laf. A showing of a heavenly effect ip 
+an earthly actor. 
+
+Par. That's it; I would have said the very 
+same. 30 
+
+Laf. Why, your dolphin is not lustier: 
+"fore me, 1 speak in respect— 
+
+Par. Nay, ’tis strange, “tis very strange, that 
+is the brief and the tedious of it; and he’s of 
+a most facinerious spirit that will not acknowl- 
+edge it to be the— 
+
+Laf. Very hand of heaven. 
+
+Pez. Ay, so I say. 
+
+Laf. Ina most weak—[pausing] and debile 
+minister, great power, great transcendence: 
+which should, indeed, give us a further use te 
+be made than alone the recovery of the 
+king, as to be—[pausing] generally thankful. 
+
+Par. I would have said it; you say well. 
+Here comes the king. 
+
+
+Enter Kinc, HeLena, and Attendants, 
+LaFEu and PAROLLEs retire, 
+
+
+320 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL [Acr II, Sc. IIf 
+
+
+Laf. Lustig, as the Dutchman says: I'll 
+like a maid the better, whilst I have a tooth in 
+my head: why, he ’s able to lead her a coranto. 
+
+Par. Mort du vinaigre! is not this Helen? 
+
+Laf. ‘Fore God, | think so. 
+
+King. Go, call before me all the lords in 
+
+
+Hel. The honour, sir, that flames in your 
+fair eyes, 
+Before I speak, too threateningly replies: 
+Love make your fortunes twenty times bove 
+Her that so wishes and her humble lo, +! 
+Sec. Lord. No better, if you please. 
+
+
+court. Hel. My wish receive, 
+Sit, my preserver, by thy patient's side; Which great Love grant! and so, I take my 
+And with this healthful hand, whose banish’d leave. 9} 
+
+
+sense 
+
+Thou hast repeal’d, a second time receive 
+The confirmation of my promised gift, 
+Which but attends thy naming. 
+
+
+Laf. Do all they deny her? An they were 
+sons of mine, I’d have them whipped; or I 
+would send them to the Turk toe make eu- 
+nuchs of. 
+
+Hel. Be not afraid that I your hand 
+
+should take; ; 
+I'll never do you wrong for your own sake: 
+Blessing upon your vows! and in your bed 
+Find fairer fortune, if you ever wed! 
+
+Laf. These boys are boys of ice, they ‘Il 
+none have her: sure, they are bastards to the 
+English; the French ne’er got ‘em. 1OF 
+
+Hel. You are too young, too happy, and 
+
+too good, 
+
+
+Enter three or four Lords. 
+
+
+Fair maid, send forth thine eye: this youthful 
+parcel 
+Of noble bachelors stand at my bestowing, 
+O’er whom both sovereign power and father’s 
+voice 60 
+I have to use: thy frank election make; 
+Thou hast power to choose, and they none to 
+
+
+forsake. To make yourself a son out of my blood. 
+Hel. To each of you one fair and virtuous Fourth Lord. Fair one, | think not so. 
+mistress Laf. There’s one grape yet; I am sure 
+
+
+thy father drunk wine; but if thou be’st not 
+an ass, I am a youth of fourteen; I have 
+known thee already. 
+
+
+Hel. [To Bertram] 1 dare not say I take 
+
+
+Fall, when Love please! marry, to each, but 
+
+
+one! 
+Laf. 1'ld give bay Curtal and his furniture, 
+My mouth no more were broken than these 
+
+
+boys’, you; but I give 
+And writ as little beard. Me and my service, ever whilst I live, 110 
+King. Peruse them well: Into your guid’ng power. This is the man. 
+
+
+Not one. of those but had a noble father. 
+Hel. Gentlemen, 
+Heaven hath through me restored the king a 
+
+
+King. Why, then, young Bertram, take 
+her; she’s thy wife. 
+Ber. My wife, my liege! I shall beseech 
+
+
+health. your highness, 
+All. We understand it, and thank heaven | In such a business give me leave to use 
+for you. The help of mine own eyes. 
+Hel. I am a simple maid, and. therein King. Know’st thou not, Bertram, 
+wealthiest, What she has done for me? 
+That I protest I simply am a maid. Ber. Yes, my good lord; 
+
+
+Please it your majesty, | have done already: 
+The blushes in my cheeks thus whisper me, 
+‘We blush that thou shouldst choose; but, be 
+refused, 
+Let the white death sit on thy cheek for ever; 
+We'll ne'er come there again.” 
+King. Make choice; and, see 
+Who shuns thy love shuns all his love in me. 
+Hel. Now, Dian, from thy altar dol fly, 80 
+And to imperial Love, that god most high, 
+Do my sighs stream. Sir, will you hear my 
+
+
+But never hope to know why I should marry 
+her. 
+
+King. Thou know’st she has raised me from 
+my sickly bed. 
+
+Ber, But follows it, my lord, to bring me 
+down 119 
+
+Must answer for your raising? I know her 
+
+well: 
+
+She had her breeding at my father’s charge. 
+
+A poor physician's daughter my wife! Disdain 
+
+Rather corrupt me ever! 
+
+
+suit? King. ‘Tis only title thou disdain’st in her, 
+First Lord. And grant it. the which 
+Hel. , Thanks, sir; all] I can build up. Strange is it that our bloods, 
+the rest is mute. Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together, 
+
+
+Laf. 1 had rather be in this choice than | Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off 
+throw ames-ace for my life. In differences so mighty. If she be : 
+
+
+Act Il, Sc. III] 
+
+
+All that is virtuous, save what thou dislikest, 
+A poor physician's daughter, thou dislikest 130 
+Of virtue for the name: but do not so: 
+From lowest place when virtuous things pro- 
+ceed, 
+The place is dignified by the doer’s deed: 
+Where great additions swell’s, and virtue none, 
+It is a dropsied honour. Good alone 
+Is good without a name. Vileness is so: 
+The property by what it is should go, 
+Not by the ttle. She is young, wise, fair; 
+In these to nature she's immediate heir, ° 
+And these breed honour: that is honour’s scorn, 
+Which challenges itself as honour’s born 141 
+And is not like the sire: honours thrive, 
+When rather from our acts we them derive 
+Than our foregoers: the mere word's a slave 
+Debosh'd on every tomb; on every grave 
+A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb 
+Where dust and damn’d oblivion is the tomb 
+Of honour’d bones indeed. What should be 
+said? 
+lf thou cant like this creature as a maid, 
+I can create the rest: virtue and she 150 
+Is her own dower; honour and wealth from me. 
+Ber. I cannot love her, nor will strive to 
+do ’t. 
+King. Thou wrong’st thyself, if thou shouldst 
+strive to choose. 
+Hel. That you are well restored, my lord, 
+I'm glad: 
+Let the rest go. 
+King. My honour 's at the stake; which to 
+defeat, 
+I must produce my power. 
+hand, 
+Proud, scornful boy, unworthy this good gift; 
+Thou dost in vile misprision shackle up 
+My love and her desert; that canst not dream, 
+We, poising us in her defective scale, 161 
+
+
+Here, take her 
+
+
+7 Shall weigh thee to the beam; that wilt not 
+
+
+know, 
+It is in us to plant thine honour where 
+We please to have it grow. Check thy con- 
+tempt: 
+Obey our will, which trava‘ls in thy good: 
+Believe not thy disdain, but presently 
+Do thine own fortunes that obedient right” 
+
+
+_ Which both thy duty owes and our power 
+
+
+claims; 
+
+Or I will throw thee from my care for ever 
+
+Into the staggers and the careless lapse 170 
+
+Of youth and ignorance; both my revenge 
+‘and hate 
+
+Loosing upon thee, in the name of justice, 
+
+Without all terms of pity. Speak; thine an- 
+swer. 
+
+Ber. Pardon, my gracious lord; for I sub- 
+
+mit 
+
+
+ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+321 
+
+
+My fancy to your eyes: when | consider 
+
+What great creation and what dole of honour 
+
+en where you bid it, I find that she, which 
+ate 
+
+Was in my nobler thoughts most base, is now 
+
+The praised of the king; who, so ennobled, 
+
+Is as ‘twere born so. 
+
+King. Take her by the hand, 180 
+And tell her she is thine; to whom I promise 
+A counterpoise, if not to thy estate 
+A balance more replete. 
+
+Ber. I take her hand. 
+
+King. Good fortune and «the favour of the 
+
+king 
+
+Smile upon this contract; whose ceremony 
+
+Shall seem expedient on the now-born brief, 
+
+And be perform’d to-night: the solemn feast 
+
+Shall more attend upon the coming space, 
+
+Expecting absent friends. As thou lovest her, 
+
+Thy love 's to me religious; else, doeserr. 190 
+{Exeunt all but Lafeu and Parolles. 
+
+Laf. [Advancing] Do you hear, monsieur ? 
+a word with you. 
+
+Par. Your pleasure, sir? 
+
+Laf. Your lord and master did well to 
+make his recantation. 
+
+Par. Recantation! My lord! my master! 
+
+Laf. Ay; is it not a language I speak? 
+
+Par. A most harsh one, and not to be 
+understood without bloody succeeding. My 
+master! 
+
+Laf. Are you companion to the Count 
+Rousillon ? 201 
+
+Par. To any count, to all counts, to what 
+is man. 
+
+Laf. To what is count’s man: count’s mas- 
+ter is of another style. 
+
+Par. You are too old, sir; let it satisfy 
+you, you are too old. 
+
+Laf. I must tell thee, sirrah, I write man; 
+to which title age cannot bring thee. 209 
+
+Par. What! dare too well do, I dare not do. 
+
+Laf. 1 did think thee, for two ordinaries, 
+to be a pretty wise fellow; thou didst make 
+tolerable vent of thy travel; it might pass: yet 
+the scarfs and the bannerets about thee did 
+manifoldly dissuade me from believing thee 
+a vessel of too great a burthen. I have now 
+found thee; when I lose thee again, I care 
+not: yet art thou good for nothing but taking 
+up; and that thou 'rt scarce worth. 
+
+Par. Hadst thou not the privilege of antiq- 
+uity upon thee,— 221 
+
+Laf. Do not plunge thyself too far in 
+anger, lest thou hasten thy trial; which if— 
+Lord have mercy on thee for a hen! So, my 
+good wndow of lattice, fare thee well: thy 
+casement I need not open, for I look through 
+thee. Give me thy hand. 
+
+
+322 
+
+
+ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+Se 2 
+
+
+[Acr II, Sc. IV 
+
+
+Par. My lord, you give me most egregious 
+indignity. 
+
+Laf. Ay, with all my heart; and thou art 
+worthy of it. 231 
+Par. 1 have not, my lord, deserved it. 
+Laf. Yes, good faith, every dram of it; 
+
+and I will not bate thee a scruple. 
+
+Par. Well, I shall be wiser. 
+
+Laf. Even as soon as thou canst, for thou 
+hast to pull at a smack o’ the contrary. If 
+ever thou be’st bound in thy scarf and beaten, 
+thou ‘shalt find what it is to be proud of thy 
+bondage. I have a desire to hold my ac- 
+quaintance with thee, or rather my knowledge, 
+that 1 may say in the default, he is a man I 
+know. 
+
+Par. My lord, you do me most insupport- 
+able vexation. 
+
+Laf. 1 would it were hell-pains for thy 
+sake, and my poor doing eternal: for doing I 
+am past; as I will by thee, in what mot on age 
+will give me leave. [Exit. 
+
+Par. Well, thou hast a son shall take this 
+disgrace off me; scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy 
+Jord! Well, I must be patient; there is no 
+fettering of authority. I'll beat him, by my 
+life, if I can meet him with any convenience, 
+and he were double and double a lord. I'll 
+have no more pity of his age than I would 
+have of—I ‘Il beat him, an if I could but 
+
+
+meet him again. 
+Re-enter LAFEU. 
+
+
+Laf. Sirrah, your lord and master's mar- 
+ried; there's news for you: you have a new 
+mistress. 
+
+Par, 1 most unfeignedly beseech your lord- 
+ship to make some reservation of your 
+wrongs: he is my good lord: whom I serve 
+
+
+above is my master. 261 
+Laf. Who> God? 
+Par. Ay, sir. 
+
+
+_ Laf. The devil it is that’s thy master. 
+Why dost thou garter up thy arms o’ this 
+fashion? dost make hose of thy sleeves? do 
+other servants so> Thou wert best set thy 
+lower part where thy nose stands. By mine 
+honour, if I were but two hours younger, 
+I'ld beat thee: methinks, thou art a general 
+offence, and every man should beat thee: I 
+think thou wast created for men to breathe 
+themselves upon thee. 
+
+Par. This is hard and undeserved measure, 
+my lord. 
+
+Laf. Go to, sir; you were beaten in Italy 
+for picking a kernel out of a pomegranate; 
+you are a vagabond and no true traveller; 
+you are more saucy with lords and honourable 
+personages thap the cgmmission of your birth 
+
+
+and virtue gives you heraldry. You are not 
+worth another word, else I ‘Id call you knave. 
+I leave you. [ Exit. 
+Par. Good, very good; it is so then: 
+good, very good; let it be concealed awhile. 
+
+
+Re-enter BERTRAM. 
+
+
+Ber. Undone, and forfeited to cares for 
+ever! 
+Par. What's the matter, sweet-heart? 
+Ber. Although before the solemn priest I 
+have sworn, 
+I will not bed her. 
+Par. What, what, sweet-heart? 
+Ber. O my Parolles, they have married me! 
+I ll to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her. 290 
+Par. France is a dog-hole, and it no more 
+merits 
+The tread of a man’s foot: to the wars! 
+Ber. There's letters from my mother: what 
+the import is, I know not yet. 
+Par. Ay, that would be known. To the 
+wars, my boy, to the wars! 
+He wears his honour in a box unseen, 
+That hugs his kicky-wicky here at home, 
+Spending his manly marrow in her arms, 
+
+
+Which should sustain the bound and high 
+
+
+curvet 
+Of Mars’s fiery steed. To other regions 300 
+France is a stable; we that dwell in’t jades; 
+Therefore, to the war! 
+Ber. It shall be so: Ill send her to my 
+house, 
+Acquaint my mother with my hate to her, 
+And wherefore J am fled; write to the king 
+That which I durst not speak: his present gift 
+Shall furnish me to those Italian fields, 
+Where noble fellows strike: war is no strife 
+To the dark house and the detested wife. 
+Par. Will this capriccio hold in thee? art 
+
+
+sure? 310 
+Ber. Go with me to my chamber and ad- 
+vise’ me. 
+
+
+I'll send her straight away: to-morrow 
+I'll to the wars, she to her single sorrow. 
+Par. Why, these balls bound; there ’s noise 
+in it. "Tis hard 
+A young man married is a man, that's marr’d: 
+Therefore away, and leave her bravely; go: 
+The king has done you wrong: but, hush, "tis so. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Paris. The Kinc’s palace. 
+Enter HELENA and CLOWN. 
+Hel. My mother greets me kindly: is she 
+well? 
+Clo. She is not well; but yet she has her 
+
+
+health: she’s very merry; but yet she is not 
+well: but thanks be given, she’s very well and 
+
+
+; 
+
+
+4 
+r 
+
+
+wants nothing i’ the world; but she is not 
+well. 
+
+Hal. If she be very well, what does she 
+ail that she ’s not very well? 
+
+Clo. Truly, she’s very well indeed, but for 
+two things. 
+- Hel. What two things? 10 
+
+Clo. One, that she’s not in heaven, whither 
+God send her quickly! the other, that she’s 
+in earth, from whence God send her quickly! 
+
+
+Enter PAROLLES. 
+
+
+Par. Bless you, my fortunate lady! 
+
+Hel. 1 hope, sir, | have your good will to 
+have mine own good fortunes. 
+
+Par. You had my prayers to lead them 
+on; and to keep them on, have them still. (OF 
+my knave, how does my old lady? 
+
+Clo. So that you had her wrinkles and I 
+her money, I would she did as you say. 21 
+
+Par. Why, I say nothing. 
+
+Clo. Marry, you are the wiser man; for 
+many a man’s tongue shakes out his master’s 
+undoing: to say nothing, to do noth'ng, to 
+know nothing, and to have nothing, is to be 
+a great part of your title; which is within a 
+very little of nothing. 
+
+‘4 Par. Away! thou'rt a knave. 
+
+‘ Clo. You should have said, sir, before a 
+knave thou’rt a knave; that’s, before me 
+thou ‘rt a knave: this had been truth, sir. 31 
+
+7 Par. Go to, thou art a witty fool; I have 
+found thee. 
+
+Clo. Did you find me in yourself, sir? or 
+were you taught to find me? The search, sir, 
+was profitable; and much fool may you find 
+in you, even to the world’s pleasure and the 
+increase of laughter. 
+
+Par. A good knave, i’ faith, and well fed. 
+
+Madam, my lord will go away to-night; 40 
+
+A very serious business calls on him. 
+
+The great prerogative and rite of love, 
+
+Which, as your due, time claims, he does ac- 
+
+knowledge; 
+
+But puts it off to a compell’d restraint; 
+Whose want, and whose delay, is strew'd with 
+sweets, : 
+
+Which they distil now in the curbed time, 
+
+To make the coming hour o’erflow with joy 
+
+And pleasure drown the brim. 
+
+Hel. What's his will else? 
+
+Par. That you will take your instant leave 
+
+». 0’ the king, 
+
+And make this haste as your own good pro- 
+_ ceeding, 
+
+Strengthen’d with what apology you think 
+
+May make it probable need. 
+
+Dit el What more commands he? 
+
+
+ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+> 
+323 
+
+
+Par. That, having this obtain'd, you pres- 
+enily 
+Attend his further pleasure. 
+Hel. In every thing | wait upon his will. 
+Par. 1 shall report it so. 
+Hel. I pray you. [Exit Parolles, 
+Come, sirrah. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene V. Paris. The Kine’s palace. 
+
+
+Enter LAFEU and BERTRAM. 
+
+
+Laf. But I hope your lordship thinks not 
+him a soldier. 
+
+Ber. Yes, my lord, and of very valiant 
+approof, 
+
+Laf. You have it from his own deliverance. 
+
+Ber. And by other warranted testimony. 
+
+Laf. Then my dial goes not true: I took 
+this lark for a bunting. 
+
+Ber. 1 do assure you, my lord, he is very 
+great in knowledge and accordingly valiant. 9 
+
+Laf. 1 have then sinned against his ex- 
+perience and transgressed against his valour; 
+and my state that way is dangerous, since I 
+cannot yet find in my heart to repent. Here 
+he comes: I pray you, make us friends; I will 
+pursue the amity. 
+
+
+Enter Paro.es. 
+Par. [To Bertram] These things shall be 
+
+
+done, sir. 
+Laf. Pray you, sir, who's his tailor? 
+Par. Sir? 
+Laf. O, I know him well, I, sir; he, sir, ’s 
+a good workman, a very good tailor. 21 
+
+
+Ber. [Aside to Par.] Is she gone to the 
+king? 
+Par. She is. 
+
+
+Ber. Will she away to-night? 
+
+Par. As you'll have her. 
+
+Ber. I have writ my letters, casketed my 
+
+treasure, 
+
+Given order for our horses; and to-night, 
+When I should take possession of the bride, 
+End ere I do begin. pa? 
+
+Laf. A good traveller is something at the 
+latter end of a dinner; but one that lies three 
+thirds and uses a known truth to pass a thou- 
+sand nothings with, should be once heard and 
+
+
+thrice beaten. God save you, captain. 
+
+Ber. Is there any unkindness between my 
+lord and you, monsieur? 
+
+Par. | know not how I have deserved to 
+run into my lord’s displeasure. 
+
+Laf. You have made shift to run into't, 
+
+
+Q| boots and spurs and all, like him that leaped 
+
+
+into the custard; and out of it you'll run 
+again, rather than suffer question for your 
+residence. 
+
+
+324 
+
+
+ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+Ber. It may be you have mistaken him, my 
+lord. 
+
+Laf. And shall do so ever, though I took 
+him at's prayers. Fare you well, my lord; 
+and believe this of me, there can be no kernel 
+in this light nut; the soul of this man is his 
+clothes. Trust him not in matter of heavy 
+consequence; I have kept of them tame, and 
+know their natures. Farewell, monsieur: I 
+have spoken better of you + than you have or 
+will to deserve at my hand; but we must do 
+good against evil. [Exit. 
+
+Par. An idle lord, I swear. 
+
+Ber. I think so. 
+
+Par. Why, do you not know him? 
+
+Ber. Yes, | do know him well, and com- 
+
+mon speech 
+Gives him a worthy pass. Herve comes my clog. 
+Enter HELENA. 
+
+
+Hel, 1 have, sir, as | was commanded from 
+you, 
+Spoke with the king and have procured his 
+leave 
+For present parting; only he desires 61 
+Some private speech with you. 
+
+Ber. I shall obey his will. 
+You must not marvel, Helen, at my course, 
+Which holds not colour with the time, nor does 
+The ministration and required office 
+On my particular. Prepared I was not 
+For such a business; therefore am I found 
+So much unsettled: this drives me to entreat 
+
+you 
+That presently you take your way for home; 
+And rather muse than ask why | entreat you, 70 
+For my respects are better than they seem 
+And my appointments have in them a need 
+Greater than shows itself at the first view 
+To you that know them not. This to my 
+mother: [Civing a letter. 
+‘Twill be two days ere I shall see you, so 
+I leave you to your wisdom. 
+
+Hel. Sir, I can nothing say, 
+But that I am your most obedient servant. 
+
+Ber. Come, come, no more of that. 
+
+Hel. And ever shall 
+With true observance seek to eke out that 
+Wherein toward me my homely stars have fail’d 
+To equal my great fortune. 
+
+er. Let that go: 8] 
+My haste is very great: farewell; hie home. 
+
+Hel. Pray, sir, your pardon. 
+
+Ber. Well, what would you say? 
+
+Hel, I am not worthy of the wealth I owe, 
+Nor dare | say ‘tis m‘ne, and yet it is; 
+
+But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal 
+What law does vouch mine own. 
+
+
+| 
+
+
+Ber. 
+Hel. Something; 
+nothing, indeed. 
+I would not tell you what I would, my lord: 
+Faith, yes; 
+Strangers and foes do sunder, and not kiss. 
+Ber. | pray you, stay not, but in haste to 
+horse. 
+Hel. | shall not break your bidding, good 
+my lord. 
+“Ber. Where are my other men, monsieur ? 
+Farewell. [Exit Helena. 
+Go thou toward home; where | will never come 
+Whilst I can shake my sword or hear the drum. 
+Away, and for our flight. 
+
+
+What would you have? 
+and scarce so much: 
+
+
+Par. Bravely, coragio! 
+[Exeunt. 
+ACT III. 
+Scene |, Florence. The Duxe's palace, 
+
+
+Flourish, Enter the DUKE of Florence, at- 
+tended; the two Frenchmen, with a troop of 
+soldiers. 
+
+
+Duke. So that from point to point now 
+have you heard 
+The fundamental reasons of this war, 
+Whose great decision hath much blood let 
+forth 
+And more thirsts after. 
+
+First Lord. Holy seems the quarrel 
+Upon your grace’s part; black and fearful 
+On the opposer. * 
+
+Duke. Therefore we marvel much our 
+
+cousin France 
+Would in so just a business shut his bosom 
+Against our borrowing prayers. 
+
+Sec. Lord. Good, my lord, 
+The reasons of our state I cannot yield, 10 
+But like a common and an outward man, 
+That the great figure of a council frames 
+By self-unable motion: therefore dare not 
+Say what I think of it, since I have found 
+Myself in my incertain grounds to fail 
+As often as I guess’d. 
+
+Duke. Be it his pleasure. 
+
+First Lord. But 1 am sure the younger of 
+
+our nature, 
+That surfeit on their ease, will day by day 
+Come here for physic. 
+
+Duke. Welcome shall they be; 
+And all the honours that can fly from us 20 
+Shall on them settle. You know your places 
+
+well; 
+When better fall, for your avails they fell: 
+To-morrow to the field. [Flourish. Exeunt, 
+
+
+[Act Ill, SevI 
+
+
+we? 
+
+
+a 
+; n 
+
+
+Act III, Sc. I] 
+
+
+ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 325 
+
+
+Scene II. Rousillon. The Count’s palace. 
+
+
+Enter CouNTEss and CLOWN. 
+
+
+Count. It hath happened all as I would 
+have had it, save that he comes not along 
+with her. 
+
+Clo. By my troth, I take my young lord to 
+Se a very melancholy man. 
+
+Count. By what observance, I pray you? 
+
+Clo. Why, he wiil look upon his’ boot and 
+sing; mend the ruff and sing; ask questions 
+and sing; pick his teeth and sing. I know 
+a man that had this trick of melancholy sold 
+a goodly manor for a song. 10 
+
+Count. Let me see what he writes, and 
+when he means to come. [Opening a letter. 
+
+Clo. I have no mind to Isbel since I was 
+at court: our old Ing and our Isbels o’ the 
+country are nothing like your old ling and 
+your Isbels o’ the court: the brains of my 
+Cupid’s knocked out, and I begin to love, as 
+an old man loves money, with no stomach. 
+
+Count. What have we here? 
+
+Clo. E’en that you have there. [Exit. 20 
+
+Count. [Reads] I have sent you a daugh- 
+ter-in-law: she hath recovered the king, and 
+undone me. I have wedded her, not bedded 
+her; and sworn to make the ‘not’ eternal. You 
+shall hear I am run away: know it before the 
+report come. If there be breadth enough in 
+the world, I will hold a long distance. My 
+duty to you. 
+
+Your unfortunate son, 
+BERTRAM. 
+This is not well, rash and unbridled boy, 30 
+To fly the favours of so good a king; 
+To pluck his indignation on thy head 
+By the misprising of a maid too virtuous 
+For the contempt of empire. 
+
+
+Re-enter CLOWN. 
+
+
+Clo. O madam, yonder is heavy news 
+within between two soldiers and my young 
+lady! 
+
+Count. What is the matter? 
+
+Clo. Nay, there is some comfort in the 
+news, some comfort; your son will not be 
+
+
+‘killed so soon as I thought he would. 40 
+
+
+Count. Why should he be killed? 
+
+Clo. So say I, madam, if he run away, as I 
+hear he does: the danger is in standing to’t; 
+that’s the loss of men, though it be the get- 
+ting of children. Here they come will tell 
+you more: for my part, I only hear your son 
+‘was run away. [Exit. 
+
+
+Enter HELENA and two Gentlemen. 
+
+
+First Gent. Save you, good madam. 
+
+
+Hel. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever 
+gone. 
+Sec. Gent. Do not say so. 
+Count. Think upon patience. 
+gentlemen, 
+I have felt so many quirks of joy and grief, 
+That the first face of neither, on the start, 
+Can woman me unto’t: where is my son, | 
+pray you? 
+Sec. Gent. Madam, he's gone to serve the 
+duke of Florence: 
+We met him thitherward; for thence we came, 
+And, after some dispatch in hand at court, 
+Thither we bend again. : 
+Hel, Look on his letter, madam; here ’s 
+my passport. 
+[Reads] When thou canst get the ring upon 
+my finger which never shall come off, and 
+show me a child begotten of thy body that I 
+am father to, then call me husband: but in 
+such a ‘then’ I write a ‘never.’ 
+This is a dreadful sentence. 
+Count. Brought you this letter, gentlemen? 
+
+
+Pray you, 
+50 
+
+
+First Gent. Ay, madam; 
+And for the contents’ sake are sorry for our 
+pains. 
+
+
+Count. I prithee, lady, have a better cheer; 
+If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine, 
+Thou robb’st me of a moiety: he was my 
+
+son; 
+But I do wash his name out of my blood, 70 
+And thou art all my child. Towards Flor- 
+ence is he? 
+
+Sec. Gent. Ay, madam. 
+
+Count. And to be a soldier? 
+
+Sec. Gent, Such is his noble purpose; and, 
+
+believe ’t, 
+The duke will lay upon him all the honour 
+That good convenience claims. 
+
+Count. Return you thither? 
+
+First Gent. Ay, madam, with the swiftest 
+
+wing of speed. 
+
+Hel. [Reads] Till I have no wife, I have 
+
+
+nothing in France. 
+
+
+‘Tis bitter. 
+
+Count. Find you that there? 
+
+Hel. Ay, madam. 
+
+First Gent. "Tis but the boldness of his 
+hand, haply, which his heart was not consent- 
+ing to. 
+
+Count. Nothing in France, until he have 
+
+no wife! 81 
+
+
+There's nothing here that is too good for him 
+But only she; and she deserves a lord 
+That twenty such rude boys might tend upon 
+And call her hourly mistress. Who was with 
+him > 
+First Gent. A servant only, and a gen- 
+tleman 
+
+
+vA 
+
+
+326 
+
+
+Which I have some time known. 
+
+Count. Parolles, was it not? 
+
+First Gent. Ay, my good lady, he. 
+
+Count. A very ta.nted fellow, and full of 
+
+wickedness, 
+My son corrupts a well-derived nature 90 
+With his inducement. 
+
+First Gent. Indeed, good lady, 
+The fellow has a deal of that too much, 
+Which holds him much to have. 
+
+Count. You're welcome, gentlemen. 
+
+I will entreat you, when you see my son, 
+
+To tell him that his sword can never win 
+
+The honour that he loses: more I'll entreat 
+you 
+
+Written to bear along. 
+
+Sec. Gent. We serve you, madam, 
+In that and all your worthiest affairs. 
+
+Count. Not so, but as we change our cour- 
+
+tesies. 100 
+Will you draw near? 
+[Exeunt Countess and Gentlemen. 
+
+Hel, ‘Till I have no wife, I have nothing 
+
+in France.” 
+Nothing in France, until he has no wife! 
+Theu shalt have none, Rousillon, none in 
+France; 
+Then hast thou all again. Poor lord! is’t I 
+That chase thee from thy country and expose 
+Those tender limbs of thine to the event 
+Of the none-sparing war? and is it I 
+That drive thee from the sportive court, 
+where thou 
+Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark 110 
+Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers, 
+That ride upon the violent speed of fire, 
+4. Fly with false aim; move the still-peering air, 
+That sings with piercing; do not touch my 
+lord 
+Whoever shoots at him, I set him there; 
+Whoever charges on his forward breast, 
+I am the caitif? that do hold him to 't; 
+And, though I kill him not, | am the cause 
+H's death was so effected: better “twere 
+I met the ravin lion when he roar’d 120 
+With sharp constraint of hunger; better “twere 
+That all the miseries which nature owes 
+Were mine at once. No, come thou home, 
+Rousillon, 
+Whence honour but ‘of danger wins a scar, 
+As oft it loses all: I will be gone; 
+My being here it is that holds thee hence: 
+Shall I stay here to do’t? no, no, although 
+The air of paradise did fan the house 
+And angels officed all: I will be gone, 
+That p tiful rumour may report my flight, 130 
+To consolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day! 
+For with the dark, poor thief, I ‘ll steal away. 
+[Exit. 
+
+
+ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+Scene Il. Florence. Before the DuKE’s 
+
+palace. 
+
+Flourish. Enter the DUKE of Florence, BER- 
+TRAM, ParoLLes, Soldiers, Drum, and 
+Trumpets. 
+
+Duke. The general of our horse thou art; 
+and we, 
+
+Great in our hope, lay our best love and 
+
+credence 
+
+Upon thy promising fortune. 
+
+Ber. Sir, it is 
+
+
+A charge too heavy for my strength, but yet 
+We ‘li strive to bear it for your worthy sake 
+To the extreme edge of hazard. 
+
+Duke. Then go thou forth; 
+And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm, 
+As thy auspicious m.stress! 
+
+Ber. This very day, 
+Great Mars, I put myself into thy file: 
+Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall 
+
+prove 10 
+A lover of thy drum, hater of love. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Rousillon. The Count’s palace. 
+Enter Countess and Steward. 
+
+
+Count. Alas! and would you take the let- 
+ter of her? 
+
+Might you not know she would do as she 
+
+has done, 
+
+By sending me a letter? 
+Siew. [Reads] 
+
+I am Saint Jaques’ pilgrim, thither gone: 
+Ambitious love hath so in me offended, 
+That barefoot plod I the cold ground upon, 
+With sainted vow my faults to have amended, 
+Write, write, that from the bloody course of 
+
+war 
+My dearest master, your dear son, may hie: 
+
+Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from far 
+His name with zealous fervour sanctify: 
+
+His taken labours bid him me forgive; 
+
+I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth 
+ag courtly friends, wth camping foes to 
+ive, 
+Where death and danger dogs the heels of 
+worth: 
+
+He is too good and fair for death and me; 
+Whom I myself embrace, to set him free. 
+Count. Ah, what sharp stings are in her 
+
+mildest words! 
+
+Rinaldo, you did never lack advice so much, 
+
+As letting her pass so: had I spoke with her, 
+
+| could have well diverted her intents, 
+
+Which thus she hath prevented. 
+
+Stem. Pardon me, madam: 
+
+If I had given you this at over-night, 
+
+She mght have been o’erta’en; and yet she 
+
+writes, 
+
+
+Read it again. 
+
+
+[Aca Se idv) — 
+
+
+a a ea ay 
+
+
+a eee Se 
+
+
+ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+oe ae r H fy ee. 
+327 
+
+
+Pursuit would be but vain. 
+~ Count. What angel shall 
+Bless this unworthy husband? he cannot thrive, 
+Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to 
+hear 
+And loves to grant, reprieve him from the 
+wrath 
+Of greatest justice. 
+To this unworthy husband of his wife; 
+Let every word weigh heavy of her worth 
+_ That he doés weigh too light: my greatest grief, 
+_ Though little he do feel it, set down sharply.. 
+Dispatch the most convenient messenger: 
+~ When haply he shall hear that she is gone, 
+~ He will return; and hope I may that she, 
+Hearing so much, will speed her foot again, 
+Led hither by pure love: which of them both 
+Is dearest to me, I have no skill in sense 
+To make distinction: provide this messenger: 
+_ My heart is heavy and mine age is weak; 41 
+_ Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me 
+
+
+‘A speak. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene V. Florence. Without the walls. A 
++ tucket afar off. 
+
+Enter an old Widow of Florence, Diana, 
+Viotenta, and Mariana, with other 
+Citizens. 
+
+Wid. Nay, come; for if they do approach 
+the city, we shall lose all the sight. 
+Dia. They say the French count has done 
+- most honourable service. 
+_ Wid. \t is reported that he has taken their 
+' greatest commander; and that w.th his own 
+hand he slew the duke’s brother. [Tucket.] 
+We have lost our labour; they are gone a 
+contrary way: hark! you may know by their 
+trumpets. 
+_ Mar. Come, let’s return again, and suffice 
+ourselves with the report of it. Well, Diana, 
+take heed of this French earl: the honour 
+of a maid is her name; and no legacy is so 
+« as honesty. 
+
+Wid. J --ve told my neighbour how you 
+
+have been solicited by a gentleman his com- 
+
+
+Write, write, Rinaldo, 
+30 
+
+
+I know that knave; hang him! one 
+: a filthy officer he is in those sug- 
+stions for the young ear!. Beware of them, 
+Miana; their promises, enticements, oaths, to- 
+ens, and all these engines of lust, are not 
+‘the things they go under: many a maid hath 
+‘been seduced by them; and the misery 1s, 
+example, that so terrible shows ‘nm the wreck 
+‘of maidenhood, cannot for all that dissuade 
+“succession, but that. they are limed wth the 
+twigs that threaten them. I hope I need not 
+to advise you further; but I hope your own 
+“grace will keep you where you are, though 
+
+
+there Were no further danger known but the 
+
+modesty which is so lost. 30 
+Dia. You shall not need to fear me. 
+Wid. I hope so. 
+
+
+Enter HELENA, disguised like a Pilgrim. 
+
+
+Look, here comes a pilgrim: I know she 
+will lie at my house; thither they send one 
+another: I "ll question her. God save you, 
+pilgrim! whither are you bound? 
+
+Hel, To Saint Jaques le Grand. 
+
+Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you? 
+
+Wid. At the Saint Francis here beside the 
+
+port. 
+
+Hel. Is this the way? 40 
+
+Wid. Ay, marry, is’t. [A march afar.]} 
+
+Hark you! they come this way. 
+If you will tarry, holy pilgrim, 
+But till the troops come by, 
+I will conduct you where you shall be lodged; 
+The rather, for i think I know your hostess 
+As ample as myself. 
+
+Hel. Is it yourself >? 
+
+Wid. If you shall please so, pilgrim. 
+
+Hel. 1 thank you, and will stay upon your 
+
+
+leisure. 
+Wid. You came, I think, from France? 
+Hel. I did so. 
+Wid. Were you shall see a countryman of 
+yours 50 
+
+
+That has done worthy service. 
+Hel. His name, I pray you. 
+Dia. The Count Rousillon: know you suck 
+a one? 
+Hel. But by the ear, that hears most nobly 
+of him: 
+His face I know not. 
+Dia. Whatsome’er he is, 
+He's bravely taken here. He stole from 
+France, 
+As ‘tis reported, for the king had married him 
+Against his hkimg: think you it is so? 
+Hel. Ay, surely, mere the truth: I know 
+
+
+his lady. 
+Dia. There is a gentleman that serves the 
+count 59 
+Reports but coarsely of her. 
+Hel. What’s his name? 
+Dia. Monsieur Parolles. 
+
+
+Hel. O, I believe with him, 
+In argument of praise, or to the worth 
+Of the great count h mself, she is too mean 
+To have her name repeated: all her deserving 
+
+
+Is a reserved honesty, and that 
+I have not heard examined. 
+
+Dia. Alas, poor lady! 
+’Tis a hard bondage to become the wife 
+
+
+Of a detesting lord. 
+
+
+328 
+
+
+ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+[Acr III, Se. VI 
+
+
+Wid. I warrant, good weature, whereso- 
+e’er she is, 
+Her heart weighs sadly: this young maid 
+might do her 70 
+A shrewd turn, if she pleased. 
+
+Hel. How do you mean? 
+May be the amorous count solicits her 
+In the unlawful purpose. 
+
+Wid. He does indeed; 
+And brokes with all that can in such a suit 
+Corrupt the tender honour of a maid: 
+
+But she is arm'd for him and keeps her guard 
+In honestest defence. 
+Mar. The gods forbid else! 
+Wid. So, now they come: 
+
+
+Drum and Colours. 
+
+
+Enter BertRAM, PaRoLLes. and the whole 
+army. 
+
+
+That is Antonio, the duke’s eldest son; 
+That, Escalus. 
+Hel. Which is the Frenchman? 
+Dia. He; 80 
+That with the plume: "tis a most gallant fellow. 
+I would he loved his w.fe: if he were honester 
+He were much goodlier: ist not a handsome 
+gentleman > 
+Hel. | like him well. 
+Dia. ‘Tis pity he is not honest: yond’s 
+that same knave 
+That leads him to these places: were I his 
+
+
+lady, 
+I would poison that vile rascal. 
+Hel. Which is he? 
+
+
+Dia. That jack-an-apes with scarfs: why 
+
+is he melancholy ? 
+
+Hel. Perchance he’s hurt i’ the battle. 90 
+
+Par. Lose our drum! well. 
+
+Mar. He's shrewdly vexed at something: 
+look, he has spied us. 
+
+Wid. Marry, hang you! 
+
+Mar. And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier! 
+
+[Exeunt Bertram, Parolles, and army. 
+Wid. The troop is past. Come, pilgrim, I 
+will bring you 
+Where you shall host: of enjoin’d penitents 
+There's four or five, to great Saint Jaques 
+bound, 
+Already at my house. 
+
+Hel. I humbly thank you: 
+Please it this matron and this gentle maid 100 
+To eat with us to-night, the charge and 
+
+thanking 
+Shall be for me; and, te requite you further, 
+I will bestow some precepts of this virgin 
+Worthy the note. 
+Both. We 'll take your offer kindly. 
+{Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene VI. 
+Enter BERTRAM and the two French Lords. 
+
+
+Camp before Florence. 
+
+
+Sec. Lord. Nay, good my lord, put him 
+tot; let him have his way. 
+
+First Lord. If your lordship find him not a 
+hilding, hold me no more in your respect. 
+
+Sec. Lord. On my life, my lord, a bubble. 
+
+Ber. Do you think I am so far deceived 
+mm him? 
+
+Sec. Lord. Believe it, my lord, in mine 
+own direct knowledge, without any malice, 
+but to speak of him as my kinsman, he’s a 
+most notable coward, an infinite and endless 
+liar, an hourly promise-breaker, the owner 
+of no one good quality worthy your lord- 
+ship's entertainment. 
+
+First Lord. It were fit you knew him; lest, 
+reposing too far in his virtue, which he hath 
+not, he might at some great and trusty busi- 
+ness in a main danger fail you. 
+
+Ber. 1 would I knew in what particular 
+action to try him. 19 
+
+First Lord. None better than to let him 
+fetch off his drum, which you hear him so 
+confidently undertake to do. 
+
+Sec. Lord. I, with a troop of Florentines, 
+will suddenly surprise h'm; such I will have, 
+whom I am sure he knows not from the 
+enemy: we will bind and hoodwink him so, 
+that he shall suppose no other but that he 
+is carried into the leaguer of the adversaries, 
+when we bring him to our own tents. Be but 
+your lordship present at his examination: if 
+he do not, for the promise of his life and in 
+the highest compulsion of base fear, offer 
+to betray you and deliver all the intelligence 
+in his power against you, and that with the 
+divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never 
+trust my judgement in any thing. 
+
+First Lord. O, for the love of laughter, let 
+him fetch his drum; he says he has a strata- 
+gem fort: when your lordship sees the bot- 
+tom of his success in ’t, and to wh-t metal this 
+counterfeit lump of ore will be melted, if you 
+give him not John Drum’s entertainment, your 
+inclining cannot be removed. Here he comes. 
+
+
+Enter PaROLLES. 
+Sec. Lord. [Aside to Ber.] O, for the 
+
+
+love of laughter, hinder not the honour of his 
+design: let him fetch off his drum in any 
+hand. 
+
+Ber. How now, monsieur! this drum sticks 
+sorely in your disposition. 
+
+First Lord. A pox ont, let it go; ‘tis but 
+a drum. 49 
+
+Par. ‘But a drum’! is’t ‘but a drum’? A 
+drum so lost! There was excellent command, 
+
+
+oa 
+
+
+oiad 
+
+
+Act III, Sc. VI 
+
+
+ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+329 
+
+
+—to charge in with our horse upon our own 
+
+
+wings, and to rend our own soldiers! 
+
+
+First Lord. That was not to be blamed in 
+the command of the serv:ce: it was a disaster 
+of war that Cesar himself could not have pre- 
+vented, if he had been there to command. 
+
+Ber. Well, we cannot greatly condemn our 
+success: some dishonour we had in the loss of 
+that drum; but it is not to be recovered. 60 
+
+Par. It might have been recovered. 
+
+Ber. It might; but it is not now. 
+
+Par, It is to be recovered: but that the 
+merit of service is seldom attributed to the 
+true and exact performer, I would have that 
+drum or another, or ‘hic jacet.’ 
+
+Ber. Why, if you have a stomach, to't, 
+monsieur: if you thnk your mystery in strata- 
+gem can bring this instrument of honour again 
+into his native quarter, be magnanimous in the 
+enterprise and go on; | will grace the at- 
+tempt for a worthy exploit: if you speed well 
+in it, the duke shall both speak of it, and 
+extend to you what further becomes his great- 
+ness, even to the utmost syllable of your 
+worthiness. 
+
+Par. By the hand of a soldier, I will un- 
+dertake it. 
+
+Ber. But you must not now slumber in tt. 
+
+Par. 1'll about it this evening: and | will 
+presently pen down my dilemmas, encourage 
+myself in my certainty, put myself into my 
+mortal preparation; and by midnight look to 
+hear further from me. 
+
+Ber. May I be bold to acquaint his grace 
+you are gone about it? 
+
+Par. | know not what the success will be, 
+my lord; but the attempt I vow. 
+
+Ber. 1 know thou'rt valiant: and, to the 
+possibility of thy soldiership, will subscribe for 
+thee. Farewell. 90 
+
+Par. | love not many words. [Exit. 
+
+Sec. Lord. No more than a fish loves wa- 
+ter. Is not this a strange fellow, my lord, 
+that so confidently seems to undertake this 
+business, which he knows is not to be done; 
+damns himself to do and dares better be 
+damned than to do’t? 
+
+First Lord. You do not know him, my 
+lord, as we do: certain it is, that he will steal 
+himself into a man’s favour and for a week 
+escape a great deal of discoveries; but when 
+you find him out, you have him ever after. 101 
+
+Ber. Why, do you think he will make no 
+deed at all of this that so seriously he does 
+address himself unto? 
+
+Sec. Lord. None in the world; but return 
+with an invention and clap upon you two or 
+three probable lies: but we have almost em- 
+bossed him: vou shall see his fall to-night; 
+
+
+for indeed he is not for your lordship’s respect. 
+First Lord. We'll make you some sport 
+with the fox ere we case him. He was first 
+smoked by the old lord Lafeu: when his dis- 
+guise and he is parted, tell me what a sprat 
+you shall find him; which you shall see this 
+very night. 
+Sec. Lord. I must go look my twigs: he 
+shall be caught. 
+Ber. Your brother he shall go along with 
+me. 
+Sec. Lord. As't please your lordship; I ‘ll 
+leave you. [Exit. 
+Ber. Now will I lead you to the house, 
+and show you 
+The lass I spoke of. 
+First Lord. But you say she 's honest. 
+Ber. That's all the fault: I spoke with her 
+but once 120 
+And found her wondrous cold; but I sent 
+to her, 
+By this same coxcomb that we have i’ the wind, 
+Tokens and letters which she did re-send; 
+And this is all I have done. She’s a fair 
+
+
+creature: 
+W ll you go see her? 
+First Lord. With all my heart, my lord, 
+
+
+Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene VII. Florence. The Widow's house. 
+Enter HELENA and Widow. 
+
+
+Hel. If you misdoubt me that I am not she, 
+I know not how I shall assure you further, 
+But I shall lose the grounds I work upon. 
+
+Wid. Though my estate be fallen, I was 
+
+well born, 
+Nothing acquainted with these businesses; 
+And would not put my reputation now 
+In any staining act. 
+
+Hel. Nor would I wish you. 
+
+First, give me trust, the count he is my hus- 
+band, 
+
+And what to your sworn counsel I have spoken 
+
+Is so from word to word; and then you cannot, 
+
+By the good aid that I of you shall borrow, 11 
+
+Err in bestow:ng it. 
+
+Wid, I should believe you; 
+For you have show'd me that which well ap- 
+
+proves 
+You ‘re great in fortune, 
+
+Hel. Take this purse of gold, 
+And let me buy your friendly help thus far, 
+Which I will over-pay and pay again 
+When I have found it. The count he wooes 
+
+your daughter, 
+Lays down his wanton s:ege before her beauty, 
+Resolved to carry her: let her in fine consent, 
+As we'll direct her how ‘tis best to bear it. 20 
+Now his important blood will nought den¥~ 
+
+
+330 
+
+
+ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+That she ‘ll demand: a ring the county wears, 
+
+That downward hath succeeded in his house 
+
+From son to son, some four or five descents 
+
+Since the first father wore it: this ring he 
+holds 
+
+In most rich choice; yet in his idle fre, 
+
+To buy his will, it would not seem too dear, 
+
+Howe’er repented after. 
+
+Wid. Now I see 
+The bottom of your purpose. 29 
+
+Hel. Yousee it lawful, then: it is no more, 
+But that your daughter, ere she seems as won, 
+Desires this ring; appoints h m an encounte: , 
+In fine, delivers me to fill the time, 
+
+Herself most chastely absent: after this, 
+To marry her, I'll add three thousand crowns 
+To what is past already. 
+
+Wid. I have yielded: 
+Instruct my daughter how she shall persever, 
+That time and place with this deceit so lawful 
+May prove coherent. Every night he comes 
+With musics of all sorts and songs composed 
+To her unworthiness: it nothing steads us 
+To chide him for our eaves; for he persists 
+As if his life lay on’t. 
+
+Hel. Why then to-night 
+Let us assay our plot; which, if it speed, 
+
+Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed 
+
+And lawful meaning in a lawful act, 
+Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact: 
+But let’s about it. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT IV. 
+
+
+Scene I. Without the Florentine camp. 
+Enter Second French Lord, with five or six 
+
+
+other Soldiers in ambush. 
+
+
+Sec. Lord. He can come no other way but 
+by this hedge-corner. When you sally upon 
+him, speak what terrible language you will: 
+though you understand it not yourselves, no 
+matter; for we must not seem to understand 
+him, unless some one among us whom we must 
+produce for an interpreter. 
+
+First Sold. Good captain, let me be the 
+interpreter. 
+
+Sec. Lord. Art not acquainted with him? 
+knows he not thy voice? HH 
+
+First Sold. No, sir, | warrant you. 
+
+Sec. Lord. But what linsey-woolsey hast 
+thou to speak to us again? 
+
+First Sold. E’en such as you speak to me. 
+
+Sec. Lord. He must think us some band of 
+strangers i’ the adversary’s entertainment. Now 
+he hath a smack of all neighbouring lan- 
+guages; therefore we must every one be a 
+man of his own fancy, not to know what we 
+speak one to another; so we seem to know, 
+is to know straight our purpose: choughs’ lan- 
+
+
+[Act IV, Se. I 
+
+
+guage, gabble enough, and good enough. As 
+
+
+for you, interpreter, you must seem very 
+politic. But couch, ho! here he comes, to 
+beguile two hours in a sleep, and then to 
+return and swear the lies he forges. 
+
+
+Enter PAROLLES. 
+
+
+Par. Ten o'clock: within these three hours 
+"twill be time enough to go home. What shall 
+I say I have done? It must be a very 
+plausive invention that carries it: they begin 
+to smoke me; and disgraces have of late 
+knocked too often at my door. I find my 
+tongue is too foolhardy; but my heart hath 
+the fear of Mars before it and of his crea- 
+tures, not daring the reports of my tongue. 
+
+Sec. Lord. This is the first truth that e’er 
+thine own tongue was guilty of. 
+
+Par. What the devil should move me to 
+undertake the recovery of this drum, being not 
+ignorant of the impossibility, and knowing I 
+had no such purpose? I must give myself 
+some hurts, and say I got them in exploit: yet 
+slight ones will not carry it; they will say, 
+‘Came you off with so little?’ and great ones 
+I dare not give. Wherefore, what’s the in- 
+stance? ‘Tongue, I must put you into a butter- 
+woman's mouth and buy myself another of 
+Bajazet’s mule, if you prattle me into these 
+perils. 
+
+Sec. Lord. Is it possible he should know 
+what he is, and be that he is? 49 
+
+Par. 1 would the cutting of my garments 
+would serve the turn, or the breaking of my 
+Spanish sword. 
+
+Sec. Lord. “We cannot afford you so. 
+
+Par. Or the baring of my beard; and to 
+say it was in stratagem. 
+
+Sec. Lord. "Twould not do. 
+
+Par. Or to drown my clothes, and say I 
+was stripped. 
+
+Sec. Lord. Hardly serve. 
+
+Par.. Though I swore I leaped from the 
+window of the citadel— 6] 
+
+Sec. Lord. How deep? 
+
+Par. Thirty fathom. 
+
+Sec. Lord. Three great oaths would scarce 
+make that be bel eved. 
+
+Par. 1 would I had any drum of the en- 
+emy's: I would swear I recovered it. 
+
+Sec. Lord. You shall hear one anon. 
+
+Par. A drum now of the enemy’s,— 
+
+[Alarum within. 
+
+Sec. Lord. Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, 
+
+
+cargo. i 
+All. Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par 
+corbo, cargo. 
+
+
+Par. O, ransom, ransom! do not hide mine 
+
+
+eyes. [They seize and blindfold him. 
+
+
+—————— 
+
+
+¥. 
+
+
+ap hd 
+a 
+
+
+1] 
+
+
+‘Act IV, Sc. 
+
+
+ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+331 
+
+
+_ First Sold. Boskos thromuldo boskos. 
+
+
+_ Par. 1 know you are the Muskos’ regi- 
+ment: 
+
+
+- And I shall lose my life for want of language: 
+
+
+If there be here German, or Dane, low Dutch, 
+Italian, or French, let him speak to me; I'll 
+Discover that which shall undo the Florentine. 
+
+First Sold. Boskos vauvado; I understand 
+thee, and can speak thy tongue. Kerelybonto, 
+sir, betake thee to thy faith, for seventeen 
+poniards are at thy bosom. 
+
+Par. O! 
+
+First Sold. O, pray, pray, pray! 
+‘evania dulche. 
+
+Sec. Sold. Oscorbidulchos volivorco. 
+
+First Soid. The general is content to spare 
+
+thee yet; 
+And, hoodwink’d as thou art, will lead thee on 
+To gather from thee: haply thou mayst inform 
+Something to save thy life. 
+
+Par. O, let me live! 
+And all the secrets of our camp | 'll show, 
+Their force, their purposes; nay, I "ll speak 
+
+that 
+Which you will wonder at. 
+
+First Sold. But wilt thou faithfully ? 
+
+Par. If I do not, damn me. 
+
+First Sold. Acordo linta. 
+
+Come on; thou art granted space. 
+[Exit, with Parolles guarded. A short 
+alarum within. 
+
+Sec. Lord. Go, tell the Count Rousillon, 
+
+and my brother, 
+
+We have caught the woodcock, and will keep 
+him muffled 
+
+Till we do hear from them. 
+
+Sec. Sold. Captain, I will. 
+~ Sec. Lord. A’ will betray us all unto our- 
+
+selves: 
+Inform on that. 
+
+Sec. Sold. So I will, sir. 
+
+Sec. Lord. Till then I'll keep him dark 
+
+and safely lock’d. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene Il. Florence. The Widow's house. 
+Enier Bertram and DIANA. 
+Ber. They told me that your name was 
+Fontbell. ; 
+. No, my good lord, Diana. 
+
+Ber. Titled goddess ; 
+And worth it, with addition! But, fair soul, 
+In your fine frame hath love no quality? 
+
+If the quick fire of youth light not your mind, 
+You are no maiden, but a monument: 
+
+When you are dead, you should be such a one 
+As you are now, for you are cold and stern; 
+And now you should be as your mother was 
+
+When your sweet self was got. 
+
+
+Dia. She then was honest. 
+
+
+Manka 
+
+
+00| That you do charge men with. 
+
+
+Ber. 
+Dia. 
+My mother did but duty; such, my lord, 
+As you owe to your wife. 
+Ber. No more o’ that; 
+I prithee, do not strive against my vows: 
+1 was compell’d to her; but I love thee 
+By love’s own sweet constraint, and will for 
+ever 
+Do thee all rights of service. 
+Dia. Ay, so you serve us 
+Till we serve you; but when you have our 
+roses, 
+You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves 
+And mock us with our bareness. 
+Ber. How have I sworn! 20 
+Dia. ’Tis not the many oaths that makes 
+the truth, 
+But the plain single vow that is vow'd true. 
+What is not holy, that we swear not by, 
+But take the High’st to witness: then, pray 
+you, tell me, 
+If I should swear by God's great attributes, 
+I loved you dearly, would you believe my 
+oaths, 
+When I did love you ill? This has no holding, 
+To swear by hm whom I protest to love, 
+That I will work against him: therefore your 
+oaths 
+Are words and poor conditions, but unseal’d, 
+At least in my opinion. 
+Ber. Change it, change it; 
+Be not so holy-cruel: love is holy; 
+And my integrity ne’er knew the crafts 
+Stand no 
+
+
+So should you be. 
+No: 
+
+
+more off, 
+
+But give thyself unto my sick desires, 
+
+Who then recover: say thou art mine, and ever 
+
+My love as it begins shall persever. 
+
+Dia. +1 see that men make ropes in such 
+
+a scarre 
+
+That we'll forsake ourselves. Give me that 
+ring. 
+
+Ber. I'll lend it thee, my dear; but have 
+
+no power 40 
+To give it from me. 
+
+Dia. Will you not, my lord? 
+
+Ber. It is an honour ‘longing to our house, 
+Bequeathed down from many ancestors; 
+Which were the greatest obloquy i’ the world 
+In me to lose. 
+
+Dia. Mine honour’s such a ring: 
+My chastity ’s the jewel of our house, 
+Bequeathed down from many ancestors; 
+Which were the greatest obloquy i’ the world 
+In me to lose: thus your own proper wisdom 
+Brings in the champion Honour on my part, 
+Against your vain assault. 
+
+Ber. Here, take my ring: 
+
+
+332 
+
+
+My house, mine honour, yea, my life, be thine, 
+And I'll be bid by thee. 
+Dia. When midnight comes, knock at my 
+chamber-window: 
+I'll order take my mother shall not hear. 
+Now will I charge you in the band of truth, 
+When you have conquer’d my yet maiden bed, 
+Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me: 
+My reasons are most strong; and you shall 
+know them 
+When back again this ring shall be deliver'd: 
+And on your finger in the night I''Il put 
+Another ring, that what in time proceeds 
+May token to the future our past deeds. 
+Adieu, tll then; then, fail not. You have won 
+A wife of me, though there my hope be done. 
+Ber. A heaven on earth I have won by 
+wooing thee. [Exit. 
+Dia. For which live long to thank both 
+heaven and me! 
+You may so in the end. 
+My mother told me just how he would woo, 
+As if she sat in's heart; she says all men 70 
+Have the like oaths: he had sworn to marry me 
+When his wife's dead; therefore I "ll lie with 
+him 
+When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so 
+braid, 
+Marry that will, I live and die a maid: 
+Only in th’s disguise I think 't no sin 
+To cozen him that would unjustly win. [Exit. 
+
+
+Scene III. The Florentine camp. 
+Enter the two French Lords and some two or 
+
+
+three Soldiers. 
+
+
+First Lord. You have not given him his 
+mother’s letter > 
+
+Sec. Lord. I have delivered it an hour 
+since: there is something in’t that stings his 
+nature; for on the reading it he changed 
+almost into another man. 
+
+First Lord. He has much worthy blame 
+laid upon him for shaking off so good a wife 
+and so sweet a lady. 
+
+Sec. Lord. Especially he hath incurred the 
+everlasting displeasure of the king, who had 
+even tuned his bounty to sing happiness to 
+him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall 
+let it dwell darkly with you. 
+
+First Lord. When you have spoken it, ‘tis 
+dead, and I am the grave of it. 
+
+Sec. Lord. He hath perverted a young 
+gentlewoman here in Florence, of a most 
+chaste renown; and this night he fleshes his 
+will in the spoil of her honour: he hath 
+given her his monumental ring, and_ thinks 
+himself made in the unchaste composit'on. 
+
+First Lord. Now, God delay our rebellion! 
+
+
+as we are ourselves. what things are we! 
+
+
+ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc. Ill 
+
+
+Sec. Lord. Merely our own traitors. And 
+as in the common course of all treasons, we 
+still see them reveal themselves, till they at- 
+tain to their abhorred ends, so he that in this 
+action contrives against his own nobil.ty, in his 
+proper stream o’erflows himself. * 30 
+
+First Lord. Is it not meant damnable in 
+us, to be trumpeters of our unlawful intents? 
+We shall not then have his company to-night? 
+
+Sec. Lord. Not till after midnight; for he 
+is dieted to his hour. 
+
+First Lord. That approaches apace; I 
+would gladly have him see his company 
+anatom zed, that he might take a measure of 
+his own judgements, wherein so curiously he 
+had set this counterfeit. 40 
+
+Sec. Lord. We will not meddle with him 
+til he come; for his presence must be the 
+whip of the other. 
+
+First Lord. In the mean time, what hear 
+you of these wars? 
+
+Sec. Lord. I hear there is an overture of 
+peace. 
+
+First Lord. Nay, 1 assure you, a peace 
+concluded, 
+
+Sec. Lord. What will Count Rousillon do 
+then? will he travel higher, or return aga‘n 
+into France? 51 
+
+First Lord. 1 perceive, by this demand, 
+you are not altogether of his council. 
+
+Sec. Lord. Let it be forbid, sir; so should 
+I be a great deal of his act. 
+
+First Lord. Sir, his wife some two months 
+since fled from his house: her pretence is a 
+pilgrimage to Saint Jaques le Grand; which 
+holy undertaking with most austere sanctimony 
+she accomplished; and, there residing, the 
+tenderness of her nature became as a prey 
+to her grief; in fine, made a groan of her 
+last breath, and now she sings in heaven. 
+
+Sec. Lord. How is this justified? 
+
+First Lord. The stronger part of it by her 
+own letters, which makes her story true, even 
+to the point of her death: her death itself, 
+which could not be her office to say is come, 
+was faithfully confirmed by the rector of 
+the place. 
+
+Sec. Lord. Hath the count all this intelli- 
+gence? 70 
+
+First Lord. Ay, and the particular con- 
+firmation, point from point, to the full arm- 
+ing of the verity. 
+
+Sec. Lord. I am heartily sorry that he ‘Il 
+be glad of this. 
+
+First Lord. How mightily sometimes we 
+make us comforts of our losses! 
+
+Sec. Lord. And how mightily some other 
+times we drown our gain in tears! The great 
+dignity that his valour hath here acquired for 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. HI] 
+
+
+ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+333 
+
+
+eee. 
+him shall at home be encountered with a| Enter PAROLLES guarded, and First Soldier. 
+
+
+shame as ample. 
+First Lord. The web of our life is of a 
+
+
+mingled yarn, good and ill together: our 
+
+
+virtues would be proud, if our faults wnipped | 
+
+
+them not; and our crimes would despair, if 
+they were not cherished by our virtues. 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+How now! where’s your master? 
+
+Serv. He met the duke in the street, sir, 
+of whom he hath taken a solemn leave: his 
+lordship will next morning for France. The 
+duke hath offered him letters of commenda- 
+tions to the king. 
+
+Sec. Lord. They shall be no more than 
+needful there, if they were more than they 
+can commend. 
+
+First Lord. They cannot be too sweet for 
+the king’s tartness. Heres his lordship now. 
+
+
+Enter BERTRAM. 
+
+
+How now, my lord! ist not after midnight? 
+
+Ber. I have to-night dispatched sixteen 
+businesses a month’s length a-piece, by an 
+abstract of success: I have congied with the 
+duke, done my adieu with his nearest; buried 
+a wife, mourned for her; writ to my lady 
+mother I am returning; entertained my con- 
+voy; and between these main parcels of dis- 
+patch effected many nicer needs: the last 
+was the greatest, but that I have not ended yet. 
+
+Sec. Lord. If the business be of any diffi- 
+culty, and th’s morning your departure hence, 
+it requires haste of your lordship. 109 
+
+Ber. I mean, the business is not ended, as 
+fearing to hear of it hereafter. But shall we 
+have this dialogue between the fool and the 
+soldie:? Come, bring forth th’s counterfeit 
+module, has deceived me, like a double- 
+meaning prophesier. 
+
+Sec. Lord. Bring him forth: has sat i’ the 
+stocks all night, poor gallant knave. 
+
+Ber. No matter; his heels have deserved 
+it, in usurping his spurs so long. How does 
+he carry himself > 120 
+
+Sec. Lord. 1 have told your lordship al- 
+ready the stocks carry him. But to answer 
+you as you would be understood; he weeps 
+like a wench that had shed hei milk: he hath 
+confessed himself to Morgan, wom he sup- 
+poses to be a friar, from the time of his re- 
+membrance to this very instant disaster of his 
+setting i’ the stocks: and what think you he 
+hath confessed ? 
+
+Ber. Nothing of me, has a’? 129 
+
+Sec. Lord. His confession is taken, and it 
+shall be read to his face: if your lordship 
+be in't, as I believe you are, you must have 
+the patience to hear it. 
+
+
+Ber. A plague upon him! muffled! he can 
+say nothing of me: hush, hush! 
+
+First Lord. Hoodman comes! 
+tarosa. 
+
+First Sold. He calls for the tortures: what 
+will you’ say without "em? 
+
+Par. 1 will confess what I know without 
+constraint: if ye pinch me lke a pasty, I can 
+say no more. 141 
+
+First Sold. Bosko chimurcho. 
+
+First Lord. Boblibindo chicurmurco. 
+
+First Sold. You are a merciful general. 
+Our general bids you answer to what I shall 
+ask you out of a note. 
+
+Par. And truly, as I hope to live. 
+
+First Sold. [Reads] ‘First demand of him 
+how many horse the duke is strong.’ What 
+say you to that? 150 
+
+Par. Five or six thousand; but very weak 
+and unserv.ceable: the troops are all scattered, 
+and the commanders very poor rogues, upon my 
+reputation and credit and as I hope to live. 
+
+First Sold. Shall I set down your answer 
+
+so? 
+
+Par. Do: I'll take the sacrament on’t, 
+how and which way you will. 
+
+Ber. All’s one to him. What a past- 
+saving slave is this! 159 
+
+First. Lord. You're deceived, my lord: 
+this is Monsieur Parolles, the gallant mili- 
+tarist——that was his own phrase,—that had 
+the whole theoric of war in the knot of his 
+scarf, and the practice in the chape of his 
+dagger. 
+
+Sec. Lord. I will never trust a man again 
+for keeping his sword clean, nor believe he 
+can have every thing in him by wearing his 
+apparel neatly. 
+
+First Sold. Well, that’s set down. 169 
+
+Par. Five or six thousand horse, I said, —I 
+will say true,—or thereabouts, set down, for 
+I'll speak truth. 
+
+First Lord. He’s very near the truth in this. 
+
+Ber. But I con him no thanks fort, in the 
+nature he delivers it. 
+
+Par. Poor rogues, | pray you, say. 
+
+First Sold. Well, that’s set down. 
+
+Par. 1 humbly thank you, sir: a truth’s a 
+truth, the rogues are marvellous poor. 179 
+
+First Sold. [Reads] ‘Demand of him, of 
+what strength they are a-foot. What say 
+you to that? 
+
+Par. By my troth, sir, if I were to live this 
+present hour, I will tell true. Let me see: 
+Spurio, a hundred and fifty; Sebastian, so 
+many; Corambus, so many; Jaques, so many; 
+i Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodowick, and Grati, two 
+
+
+Portotar- 
+
+
+334 
+
+
+ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+hundred and fifty each; mine own company, | 
+Chitopher, Vzumond, Bentii, two hundred and | 
+fifty each; so that the muster-file, rotten and | 
+sound, upon my life, amounts not to fifteen | 
+
+
+thousand poll; half of the which dare not 
+shake the snow from off their cassocks, lest 
+they shake themselves to pieces. 
+
+Ber. What shall be done to him? 
+
+First Lord. Nothing, but let him have 
+thanks. Demand of him my condition, and 
+what credit I have with the duke. 
+
+First Sold. Well, that’s set down. [Reads] 
+“You shall demand of him, whether one Cap- 
+tain Dumain be i’ the camp, a Frenchman; 
+what his reputation is with the duke; what 
+his valour, honesty, and expertness in wats; 
+or whether he thinks it were not possible, with 
+well-weighing sums of gold, to corrupt hm to 
+a revolt.’ What say you to this? what do you 
+know of it? 
+
+Par. 1 beseech you, let me answer to the 
+particular of the inter’gatories: demand them 
+
+
+singly. 
+First Sold. Do you know this Captain 
+Dumain ? 210 
+
+
+Par. 1 know him: a’ was a botcher’s "pren- 
+tice in Paris, from whence he was whipped 
+for getting the shrieve’s fool with child,—a 
+dumb innocent, that could not say him nay. 
+
+Ber. Nay, by your leave, hold your hands; 
+though I know his brains are forfeit to the 
+next tle that falls. 
+
+First Sold. Well, is the captain in the 
+duke of Florence’s camp? 219 
+
+Par. Upon my knowledge, he is, and 
+lousy. 
+
+First Lord. Nay, look not so upon me; we 
+shall hear of your lordship anon. 
+
+First Sold. What is his reputation with the 
+duke? 
+
+Par. The duke knows him for no other 
+but a poor officer of mine; and writ to me 
+this other day to turn him out o’ the band: 
+I think I have his letter in my pocket. 
+
+First Sold. Marry, we'll search. 229 
+
+Par. In good sadness, I do not know; 
+either it is there, or it is upon a file with the 
+duke’s other letters in my tent. 
+
+First Sold, Here ‘tis; here’s a paper: shall 
+I read it to you? ' 
+
+Par. 1 do not know if it be it or ‘no. 
+
+Ber. Our interpreter does it well, 
+
+First Lord. Excellently. 
+
+First Sold. [Reads] ‘Dian, the count’s a 
+
+fool, and full of gold, — 
+
+Par. That is not the duke’s letter. sir; that 
+is an advertisement to a proper maid in Flor- 
+ence, one Diana, to take heed of the allure- 
+ment of one Count Rousillon, a foolish idle 
+
+
+boy, but for all that very ruttish: I pray you, 
+sir, put it up again. 
+
+First Sold. Nay, I'll read it first, by your 
+favour, 
+
+Par, My meaning in’t, I protest, was very 
+honest in the behalf of the ma'd; for I knew 
+the young count to be a dangerous and las- 
+civious boy, who is a whale to virginity and 
+devours up all the fry it finds. 250 
+
+Ber. Damnable both-sides rogue! 
+
+First Sold. [Reads] “When he swears 
+oaths, bid him drop gold, and take it; 
+After he scores, he never pays the score: 
+
+Half won is match well made; match, and 
+
+well make it; 
+
+He ne'er pays after-debts, take it before; 
+And say a soldier, Dian, told thee this, 
+Men are to mell wth, boys are not to kiss: 
+For count of this, the count’s a fool, I 
+
+
+know it, 
+Who pays before, but not when he does 
+
+owe it. 
+Thine, as he vowed to thee in thine ear, 
+
+
+PAROLLEs,” 
+
+Ber. He shall be whipped through the 
+aimy with this rhyme in’s forehead. 
+
+Sec. Lord, This is your devoted friend, 
+sir, the manifold linguist and the atmipotent 
+soldier. 
+
+Ber, 1 could endure any thing before but 
+a cat, and now he’s a cat to me. 
+
+First Sold. I perceive, sir, by the general's 
+looks, we shall be fain to hang you. 269 
+
+Par. My life, sir, in any case: not that 
+I am afraid to dia; but that, my offences being 
+
+
+many, I would repent out the remainder of 
+nature: let me five, sir, in a dungeon, i’ the 
+stocks, or any where, so I may live. 
+
+
+First Sold. We'll see what may be done, 
+so you confess freely; therefore, once more 
+to this Captain Duma’n: you have answered 
+
+
+to his reputation with the duke and to his 
+valour: what is his honesty? 279 
+Par. He will steal, sir, an egg out of a 
+
+
+cloister: for rapes and ravishments he parallels 
+Nessus: he professes not keeping of oaths; in 
+breaking ’em he is stronger than Hercules: he 
+will lie, sit, wth such volubility, that you 
+would think tr-th were a fool; drunkenness is 
+his best virtue, for he will be swine-drunk; 
+and in jhis sleep ne does little harm, save to 
+his bed-clothes about him; but they know his 
+conditions and lay him in straw- 
+1 ttle more to say, sir, of his honesty: he has 
+every thing that an honest man should not 
+have; what an honest man should have, he 
+has nothing. : 
+First Lord. 1 begin to love him for -this. 
+
+
+Ber, For this description of thine honesty > ’ 
+
+
+{Act IV, Sc, IIE 
+
+
+I have but » 
+
+
+oe 
+
+
+Tas, 
+Se. IV] 
+
+
+ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+335 
+
+
+A pox upon him for me, he's more and more 
+a cat. 
+
+_ First Sold. What say you to his expertness 
+in war? 
+
+Par. Faith, sir, has led the drum before the 
+English tragedians; to belie him, | will not, 
+and more of his soldiership | know not; ex- 
+cept, in that country he had the honour to be 
+the officer at a place there called Mile-end, to 
+instruct for the doubling of files: I would do 
+the man what honour I can, but of this I am 
+not certain. : 
+
+First Lord. He hath out-villained villany 
+so far, that the rarity redeems him. 
+
+Ber. A pox on him, he’s a cat still. 
+
+_ First Sold. His qualities being at this poor 
+price, I need not to ask you-if gold will cor- 
+rupt him to revolt. 310 
+
+Par. Sir, for a quart d’ecu he will sell the 
+fee-simple of his salvation, the inheritance of 
+it; and cut the entail from all remainders, 
+and a perpetual succession for it perpetually. 
+
+First Sold. What's his brother, the other 
+‘Captain Dumain? 
+
+Sec. Lord. Why does he ask him of me? 
+
+First Sold. What’s he? 
+
+Par. E’en a crow o’ the same nest; not al- 
+together so great as the first in goodness, but 
+greater a great deal in evil: he excels his 
+brother for a coward, yet his brother is re- 
+puted one of the best that is: in a retreat 
+he outruns any lackey; marry, in coming on 
+he has the cramp. 
+
+First Sold. If your life be saved, will you 
+undertake to betray the Florentine? 
+
+Par. Ay, and the captain of his horse, 
+Count Rousillon. 
+
+First Sold. 1’ll whisper with the general, 
+and know his pleasure. 330 
+
+Par. [Aside] I'll no more drumming; a 
+plague of all drums! Only to seem to de- 
+serve well, and to beguile the supposition of 
+that lascivious young boy the count, have | 
+run into this danger. Yet who would have 
+suspected an ambush where | was taken? 
+
+First Sold. There is no remedy, sir, but you 
+
+
+must die: the general says, you that have so 
+
+
+traitorously discovered the secrets of your 
+army and made such pestiferous reports of 
+men very nobly held, can serve the world for 
+no honest use; therefore you must die. Come, 
+headsman, off with h’s head. 
+
+Par. O Lord, sir, let me live, or let me see 
+my “death! 
+
+First Sol. That shall you, and take your 
+leave of all your friends. [Unblinding him. 
+So, look about you: know you any here? 
+
+Ber. Good morrow, noble captain. 349 
+
+Sec. Lord. God bless vou, Captain Parolles. 
+
+
+First Lord. God save you, noble captain. 
+Sec. Lord. Captain, what greeting will you 
+to my Lord Lafeu? I am for France. 
+First Lord. Good captain, will you give me 
+a copy of the sonnet you writ to Diana in be- 
+half of the Count Rousillon? an I were not a 
+very coward, I ‘ld compel it of you: but fare 
+you well. [Exeunt Bertram and Lords. 
+First Sold. You are undone, captain, all 
+but your scarf; that has a knot on’t yet. 359 
+Par. Who cannot be crushed with a plot? 
+First Sold. If you could find out a country 
+where but women were that had received so 
+much shame, you might begin an impudent 
+nation. Fare ye well, sir; | am for France 
+too: we shall speak of you there. 
+[Exit, with Soldiers. 
+Par. Yet am I thankful: if my heart were 
+great, 
+*Twould burst at this. 
+more; 
+But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft 
+As captain shall: simply the thing I am 
+Shall make me live. Who knows himself a 
+braggart, 370 
+Let him fear this, for it will come to pass 
+That every braggart shall be found an ass. 
+Rust, sword! cool, blushes! and, Paroiles, live 
+Safest in shame! being fool'd, by foolery 
+thrive! 
+There 's place and means for every man alive. 
+
+
+I'll after them. [Exit. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Florence. The Widow's house. 
+Enter HELENA, Widow, and DIANA. 
+
+
+Hel. That you may well perceive I have 
+
+not wrong’d you, 
+
+One of the greatest in the Christian world 
+
+Shall be my surety; ‘fore whose throne ‘tis 
+needful, ~ 
+
+Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneel: 
+
+Time was, I did him a desired office, 
+
+Dear almost as his life; which gratitude 
+
+Through flinty Tartar’s bosom would peer forth, 
+
+And answer, thanks: I duly am inform'd 
+
+His grace is at Marseilles; to which place 
+
+We have convenient convoy. You must know, 
+
+I am supposed dead: the army breaking, II 
+
+My husband hies him home; where, heaven 
+aiding, 
+
+And by the leave of my good lord the king, 
+
+We'll be before our welcome. 
+
+Wid. Gentle madam, 
+You never had a servant to whose trust 
+Your business was more welcome. 
+
+Hel. Nor you, mistress, 
+Ever a friend whose thoughts more truly 
+
+labour 
+To recompense your loye: doubt not but heaven 
+
+
+Captain I'll be no 
+
+
+336 
+
+
+Hath brought me up to be your daughter’s 
+dower, 
+
+As it hath fated her to be my mot.ve 20 
+
+And helper toa husband. But, O strange men! 
+
+hatcen such sweet use make of what they 
+ate, 
+
+When saucy trusting of the cozen’d thoughts 
+
+Defiles the p'tchy night: so lust doth play 
+
+With what it loathes for that which is away. 
+
+But more of this hereafter. You, Diana, 
+
+Under my poor instructions yet must suffer 
+
+Something in my behalf. 
+
+Dia. Let death and honesty 
+Go with your imposit ons, | am yours 
+Upon your will to suffer. 
+
+
+Hel. Yet, I pray you: 30 
+But with the word the time will bring on 
+summer, 
+
+
+When briers shall have leaves as well as thorns, 
+And be as sweet as sharp. We must away; 
+Our waggon is prepared, and time revives us; 
+ALL’s WELL THAT ENDS WELL: still the fine’s 
+the crown; 
+Whate’er the course, the end is the renown. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+ScENE V. Rousillon. The Count’s palace. 
+Enter CounTEss, LaFEu, and Clown. 
+
+
+Laf. No, no, no, your son was misled with 
+a snipt-taffeta fellow there, whose villanous 
+saffron would have made all the unbaked and 
+doughy youth of a nation in his colour: your 
+daughter-in-law had been alive at this hour, 
+and your son here at home, more advanced 
+by the king than by that red-tailed humble- 
+bee I speak of. 
+
+Count. I would I had not known him; it 
+was the death of the most virtuous gentle- 
+woman that ever nature had praise for creat- 
+ing. If she had partaken of my flesh, and 
+cost me the dearest groans of a mother, I 
+could not have ~wed her a more rooted love. 
+
+Laf. "Twas a good lady, ‘twas a good lady: 
+we may pick a thousand salads ere we light 
+on such another herb. 
+
+Clo. Indeed, sir, she was the sweet- 
+marjoram of the salad, or rather, the herb of 
+grace. 
+
+Laf. They are not herbs, you knave; they 
+are nose-herbs. 20 
+
+Clo. I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir; 
+{ have not much skill in grass. 
+
+Laf. Whether dost thou profess thyself, a 
+knave or a fool? 
+
+Clo. A fool, sir, at a woman’s service, and 
+a knave at a man’s. 
+
+Laf. Your distinction? 
+
+Clo. 1 would cozen the man of his wife 
+and do his service. 
+
+
+ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. W 
+
+
+Laf. So you were a knave at his service, 
+indeed, 31 
+
+Clo. And I would give his wife my bauble, 
+sir, to do her service. 
+
+Laf. I will subscribe for thee, thou art 
+both knave and fool. 
+
+Clo. At your service. 
+
+Laf. No, no, no. 
+
+Clo. Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, ] 
+can serve as great a prince as you are. 
+
+Laf. Who’s that? a Frenchman? 40 
+
+Clo. Faith, sir, a’ has an English name; 
+but h’s fisnomy is more hotter in France than 
+there. 
+
+Laf. What prince is that? 
+Cio. The black prince, sir; 
+prince of darkness; alias, the devil. 
+
+Laf. Hold thee, there’s my purse; I give 
+thee not this to suggest thee from thy mas- 
+ter thou talkest of; serve him still. 
+
+Clo. I am a woodland fellow, sir, that al- 
+ways loved a great fire; and the master I 
+speak of ever keeps a good fire. But, sure, he 
+is the prince of the world; let his nobility re- 
+main in’s court. I am for the house with 
+the narrow gate, which I take to be too little 
+for pomp to en.er: some that humble them- 
+selves may; but the many will be too chill and 
+tender, and they'll be for the flowery way 
+that leads to the broad gate and the great fire. 
+
+Laf. Go thy ways, I begin ty be aweary of 
+thee; and | tell thee so before, because I would 
+not fall out with thee. Go thy ways: let my 
+horses be well locked to, without any tricks. 
+
+Clo. If I put any tricks upon ‘em, sir, they 
+shall be jades’ fricks; which are their own 
+right by the law of nature. [Exit. 
+
+Laf. A shrewd knave and an unhappy. 
+
+Count. So he is. My lord that’s gone 
+made himself much sport out of him: by his 
+authority he remains here, which he thinks 
+is a patent for his sauciness; and, indeed, he 
+has no pace, but runs where he will. 71 
+
+Laf. I like him well; ‘tis not amiss. And 
+I was about to tell you, since I heard of the 
+good lady’s death and that my lord your son 
+was upon his return home, I moved the king 
+my master to speak in the behalf of my 
+daughter; which, in the minority of them 
+both, his majesty, out of a self-gracious re- 
+membrance, did first propose: his highness 
+hath promised me to do it: and, to stop up 
+the displeasure he hath conceived against 
+your son, there is no fitter matter. How does 
+your ladyship like it? 
+
+Count. With very much content, my lord; 
+and I wish it happily effected. 
+
+Laf. H's highness comes post from Mar- 
+
+
+the 
+
+
+alias, 
+
+
+seilles, of as able body as when he numbered 
+
+
+‘Act V, Sc. I] 
+
+
+ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+337 
+
+
+_ thirty: he will be here to-morrow, or I am 
+deceived by him that in such intelligence hath 
+seldom failed. 
+
+Count, It rejoices me, that I hope I shall 
+see him ere I die. I have letters that my son 
+will be here to-night: I shall beseech your 
+lordship to remain with me till they meet 
+together. 
+
+Laf. Madam, I was thnking with what 
+manners I might safely be admitted. 
+
+Count. You need but plead your hon- 
+ourable privilege. 
+
+Laf. Lady, of that I have made a bold 
+charter; but I thank my God it holds yet. 
+
+
+Re-enter CLOWN. 
+
+
+Clo. O madam, yonder 's my lord your son 
+with a patch of velvet on’s face: whether 
+there be a scar under’t or no, the velvet 
+knows; but ‘tis a goodly patch of velvet: his 
+left cheek is a cheek of two pile and a half, 
+but his right cheek is worn bare. 
+
+Laf. A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is 
+a good livery of honour; so belike is that. 
+
+Clo. But it is your carbonadoed face. 
+
+Laf. Let us go see your son, I pray you: 
+I long to talk w:th the young noble soldier. 
+
+Clo. Faith, there’s a dozen of ‘em, with 
+delicate fine hats and most courteous feathers, 
+which bow the head and nod at every man. 
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+NC T Ni 
+
+
+Scene I. Marseilles. A street. 
+
+
+Enter HeLena, Widow, and Diana, with 
+two Attendants. 
+
+
+Hel. But this exceeding posting day and 
+
+night 
+
+Must wear your spirits low; we cannot help it: 
+
+But since you have made the days and nights 
+as one, 
+
+To wear your gentle limbs in my affairs, 
+
+Be bold you do so grow in my requital 
+
+As nothing can unroot you. In happy time; 
+
+Enter a Gentleman. 
+
+This man may help me to his majesty's ear, 
+
+If he would spend his power. God save you, 
+sir, 
+
+
+Gent. And you. 
+
+
+Hel. Sir, 1 have seen you in the court of 
+France. 10 
+Gent. I have been sometimes there. 
+
+
+Hel. I do presume, sir, that you are not 
+fallen 
+From the report that goes upon your goodness; 
+And therefore, goaded with most sharp occa- 
+sions, 
+Which lay nice manners by, | put you to 
+
+
+The use of your own virtues, for the which 
+I shall continue thankful. 
+
+Gent. What's your will? 
+
+Hel. That it will please you 
+To give this poor petition to the king, 
+
+And aid me with that store of power you have 
+To come into his presence. 21 
+
+Gent. The king’s not here. 
+
+Hel. Not here, sir! 
+
+Gent, Not, indeed: 
+He hence removed last night and with more 
+
+haste 
+Than is his use. 
+
+Wid. Lord, how we lose our pains! 
+Hel, ALi’s WELL THAT ENDS WELL yet, 
+Though time seem so adverse and means unfit. 
+
+I do beseech you, whither is he gone? 
+
+Gent. Marry, as | take it, to Rousillon; 
+Whither I am going. 
+
+Hel. I do beseech you, sir, 
+Since you are like to see the king before me, 
+Commend the paper to his gracious hand, 
+Which I presume shall render you no blame 
+But rather make you thank your pains for it. 
+I will come after you with what good speed 
+Our means will make us means. 
+
+Gent. This I ‘ll do for you, 
+
+Hel. And you shall find yourself to be 
+
+well thank'd, 
+Whate’er falls more. We must to horse again, 
+Go, go, provide. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Rousilion. Before the Count’s 
+palace. 
+
+
+Enter Clown, and ParoL_es, following. 
+
+
+Par. Good Monsieur Lavache, give my 
+Lord Lafeu this leter: I have ere now, sir, 
+been better known to you, when | have held 
+familiarity with fresher clothes; but I am 
+now, sir, muddied in fortune’s mood, and 
+smell somewhat strong of her strong dis- 
+pleasure. 
+
+Clo. Truly, fortune’s displeasure is but 
+sluttish, if it smell so strongly as thou speakest 
+of: I will henceforth eat no fish of fortune’s 
+buttering. Prithee, allow the wind. 10 
+
+Par. Nay, you need not to stop your nose, 
+sir; I spake but by a metaphor. 
+
+Clo. Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I 
+will stop my nose; or against any man’s meta- 
+phor. Prithee, get thee further. 
+
+Par. Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper. 
+
+Clo. Foh! prithee, stand away: a paper 
+from fortune’s close-stool to g ve to a noble- 
+man! Look, here he comes himself. 19 
+
+
+Scene II. 
+
+
+Enter Larevu. 
+
+
+Here is a purr of fortune’s, sir, or of for- 
+tune’s cat,—but not a musk-cat,—that bas 
+
+
+338 
+
+
+ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+[Acr V, Sc. II] 
+
+
+fallen into the unclean fishpond of her dis- 
+pleasure, and, as he says, is muddied withal: 
+pray you, sir, use the carp as you may; for 
+he looks like a poor, decayed, ingenious, fool- 
+ish, rascally knave. I do pity his distress in 
+my similes of comfort and leave him to your 
+lordship. [Exit. 
+
+Par. My lord, I am a man whom for- 
+tune hath cruelly scratched. 29 
+
+Laf. And what would you have me to do? 
+*Tis too late to pare her nails now. Wherein 
+have you played the knave with fortune, that 
+she should scratch you, who of herself is a 
+good lady and would not have knaves thrive 
+long under her? ‘There's a quart d’ecu for 
+
+
+you: let the justices make you and fortune 
+friends: I am for other business. 
+Par. 1 beseech your honour to hear me 
+
+
+one single word. 
+
+Laf. You beg a single penny more: come, 
+you shall ha’t; save your word. 40 
+
+Par. My name, my good lord, is Parolles. 
+
+Laf. You beg more than ‘word,’ then. Cox 
+my passion! g.ve me your hand. How does 
+your drum? 
+
+Par. O my good lord, you were the first 
+that found me! 
+
+Laf. Was I, in sooth? and I was the first 
+that lost thee. 
+
+Par. It lies in you, my lord, to bring me 
+in some grace, for you did bring me out. 50 
+
+Laf. Out upon thee, knave! dost thou put 
+upon me at once both the office of God and 
+the devil? One brings thee in grace and the 
+other brings thee out. [Trumpets sound.| The 
+king ’s coming; I know by his trumpets. Sir- 
+rah, inquire further after me; I had talk of 
+you last night: though you are a fool and a 
+knave, you shall eat; go to, follow. 
+
+
+Par. | praise God for you. [Exeunt. 59 
+Scene III. Rousillon. The Count’s palace. 
+Flourish. Enter Kinc, Countess, LaFeu, 
+
+
+the two French Lords. with Attendants. 
+
+
+King. We lost a jewel of her; and our 
+esteem 
+Was made much poorer by it: but your son, 
+As mad in folly, lack’d the sense to know 
+Her estimation home. 
+
+Count. "Tis past, my liege; 
+And I beseech your majesty to make it 
+Natural rebellion, done 1’ the blaze of youth; 
+When oil and fire, too strong for reason’s force, 
+O'erbears it and burns on. 
+Did to his majesty, his mother and his lady 
+I have forgiven and forgotten all; 
+Though my revenges were high bent upon him, 
+And watch'd the time to shoot. 
+
+Laf. This I must say, 11 
+
+
+But first I beg my pardon, the young lord 
+Did to his majesty, his mother and his lady 
+Offence of mighty note; but to himself 
+The greatest wrong of all. He lost a wife 
+Whose beauty did astonish the survey 
+
+
+Of richest eyes, whose words all ears took 
+
+
+capt.ve, 
+Whose dear perfection hearts that scorn’d to 
+serve 
+Humbly call’d mistress. 
+King. Praising what is lost 
+Makes the remembrance dear. Well, call him 
+hither ; 20 
+
+
+We are reconciled, and the first view shall kill 
+All repetition: let him not ask our pardon; 
+The nature of his great offence is dead, 
+And deeper than oblivion we do bury 
+The incens'ng relics of it: let him approach, 
+A stranger, no offender; and inform him 
+So ’tis our will he should. 
+Gent. I shall, my liege, [Exit 
+King. What says he to your daughter? 
+have you spoke? 
+Laf. All that he is hath reference to your 
+highness. 
+King. Then shall we have a match, I 
+have letters sent me 30 
+That set him high in fame. 
+
+
+Enter BERTRAM. 
+Laf. He looks well on’t. 
+
+
+King. I am not a day of season, 
+For thou mayst see a sunshine and a hail 
+In me at once: but to the brightest beams 
+Distracted clouds give way; so stand thou 
+forth; 
+The time is fair again. 
+
+Ber. My high-repented blames, 
+Dear sovereign, pardon to me. 
+
+King. All is whole; 
+Not one word more of the consumed time. 
+Let’s take the instant by the forward top; 
+For we are old, and on our quick’st decrees 
+The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time 
+Steals ere we can effect them. You remember 
+The daughter of this lord? 
+
+Ber. Admirngly, my liege, at first 
+I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart 
+Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue: 
+Where the impression of mine eye infixing, 
+Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me, 
+Which warp’d the line of every other favour; 
+Scorn'd a fair colour, or express’d it stolen; 50 
+Extended or contracted all proportions 
+To a most hideous object: thence it came 
+That she whom all men praised and whom 
+
+myself, 
+Since I have lost. have loved, was in mine eye 
+
+
+The dust that did offend it. 
+
+
+40 . 
+
+
+7 
+
+
+sae 
+
+
+I would relieve her. 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+Act Y, Sc. Il] 
+
+
+UL‘S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+335 
+
+
+King. Well excused: 
+‘That thou didst love her, strikes some scores 
+away 
+
+
+From the great compt: but love that comes 
+
+
+too late, 
+Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried, 
+To the great sender turns a sour offence, 
+Crying, “That’s good that’s gone.’ Our 
+rash faults 60 
+Make trivial price of serious things we have, 
+Not knowing them until we know their grave: 
+Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust, 
+Destroy our friends and after weep their dust: 
++Our own love waking cries to see what's done, 
+While shame full late sleeps out the afternoon. 
+Be this sweet Helen's knell, and now forget her. 
+Send forth your amorous token for fair Maud- 
+lin: 
+The main consents are had; and here we'll 
+stay 
+To see our widower’s second marriage-day. 70 
+Count, Which better than the first, O dear 
+heaven, bless! 
+Or, ere they meet, in me. O nature, cesse! 
+Laf. Come on, my son, in whom my 
+house’s name 
+Must be digested, give a favour from you 
+To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter, 
+That she may quickly come. [Bertram gives 
+a ring.| By my old beard, 
+And every hair that’s on ’t, Helen, that’s dead, 
+Was a sweet creature: such a ring as this, 
+The last thai e’er I took her leave at court, 
+I saw upon her finger. 
+Ber. Hers it was not. 80 
+King. Now, pray you, let me see it; for 
+mine eye, 
+While I was speaking, oft was fasten’d tot. 
+This ring was mine; and, when | gave it Helen, 
+I bade her, if her fortunes ever stood ° 
+Necessitied to help, that by th’s token 
+Had you that craft, to 
+reave her 
+Of what should stead her most? 
+Ber. My gracious sovereign, 
+Howe’er it pleases you to take it so, 
+The ring was never hers. 
+Count. on, on my life, 
+I have seen her wear it; and she reckon‘d it 
+At her life’s rate. 
+Laf. I am sure | saw her wear it. 
+Ber. You are deceived, my lord; she never 
+saw it: 
+
+
+90 
+
+
+- In Florence was it from a casement thrown me, 
+
+
+Wrapp'd in a paper, which contain’d the name 
+Of her that threw t: noble she was, and thought 
+I stood engaged: but when | had subscribed 
+To mine own fortune and inform’d her fully 
+I could not answer in that course of honour 
+
+
+As she had made the overture, she ceased. 
+In heavy satisfaction and would never 
+Receive the ring again. 
+
+King. Plutus himself, 
+That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine, 
+Hath not in nature’s mystery more science 
+Than I have in this ring: ‘twas mine, "twas 
+
+Helen's, 
+Whoever gave it you. Then, if you know 
+That you are well acquainted with yourself, 
+Confess “twas hers, and by what rough en- 
+forcement 
+You got it from her: she call’d the saints to 
+surety 
+That she would never put it from her finger, 
+Unless she gave it to yourself in bed, 110 
+Where you have never come, or sent it us 
+Upon her great disaster. 
+Ber. She never saw it. 
+King. Thou speak’st it falsely, as I love 
+mine honour; 
+And makest conjectural fears to come into me, 
+Which I would fain shut out. If it should prove 
+That thou art so inhuman,—'twill not prove 
+so;— : 
+And yet I know not: thou didst hate her deadly, 
+And she is dead; which nothing, but to close 
+Her eyes myself, could win me to believe, 
+More than to see this ring. Take him away. 120 
+[Cuards seize Bertram, 
+My fore-past proofs, howe’er the matter fall, 
+Shall tax my fears of little vanity, 
+Having va nly fear’d too little. Away with him! 
+We'll sift this matter further. 
+
+Ber. If you shall prove 
+This ring was ever hers, you shall as easy 
+Prove that I husbanded her bed in Florence, 
+Where yet she never was. [Exit guarded, 
+
+King. I am wrapp’d in dismal thinkings. 
+
+
+100 
+
+
+Enter a Gentleman. 
+
+
+Gent. Gracious sovereign, 
+
+Whether I have been to blame or no, I know 
+not: 
+
+Here ’s a petition from a Florentine, 130 
+
+Who hath for four or five removes come short 
+
+To tender it herself. I undertook it, 
+
+Vanquish’d thereto by the fair grace and speech 
+
+Of the poor suppliant, who by this I know 
+
+Is here attending: her business looks in her 
+
+With an importing visage; and she told me, 
+
+In a sweet verbal brief, it did concern 
+
+Your highness with herself. 
+
+King. [Reads] Upon his many protesta- 
+tons to-marry me when his wife was dead, I 
+blush to say it, he won me. Now is the Count 
+Rousillon a widower: his vows are forfeited to 
+me, and my honour’s paid to him. He stole 
+from Florence, taking no leave, and I follow 
+
+
+340 
+
+
+ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. II] 
+
+
+him to his country for justice: grant it me, O 
+king! in you it best lies; otherwise a seducer 
+Rourwshies! and a poor maid is undone. 
+Diana CaPILET. 
+Laf. 1 will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, 
+and toll for this: I ‘ll none of him. 
+King. The heavens have thought well on 
+thee, Lafeu, 150 
+To bring forth this discovery. Seek these 
+suitors : 
+Go speedily and bring again the count. 
+I am afeared the life of Helen, lady, 
+Was foully snatch'd. 
+
+
+Count. Now, justice on the doers! 
+Re-enter BERTRAM, guarded. 
+
+
+King. | wonder, sir, sith wives are mon- 
+sters to you, 
+And that you fly them as you swear them 
+lordship, 
+
+
+Yet you desire te marry. 
+
+
+Enter Widow and Diana. 
+
+
+What woman's that? 
+
+Dia. 1 am, my lord, a wretched Florentine, 
+Derived from the ancient Capilet: 
+
+My suit, as I do understand, you know, 160 
+And therefore know how far I may be pitied. 
+Wid. 1 am her mother, sir, whose age and 
+honour 
+Both suffer under this complaint we bring, 
+And both shall cease, w thout your remedy. 
+
+King. Come hither, count; do you know 
+
+these women? 
+
+Ber. My lord, I neither can nor will deny 
+But that I know them: do they charge me 
+
+further > 
+
+Dia. Why do you look so strange upon 
+
+your wife? 
+
+Ber. She's none of mine, my lord. 
+
+Dia. If you shall marry, 
+You give away this hand, and that is mine; 170 
+You give away heaven's vows, and those are 
+
+mine; 
+You give away myself, which is known mine; 
+For I by vow am so embodied yours, 
+That she whch marries you must marry me, 
+Either both or none. 
+
+Laf. Your reputation comes too short for 
+my daughter; you are no husband ‘for her. 
+
+Ber. My lord, this is a fond and desperate 
+
+creature, 
+
+Whom sometime I have laugh’d with: 
+your highness 
+
+Lay a more noble thought upon mine honour 
+
+Than for to think that I would sink ithere. 181 
+
+King. Sir, for my thoughts, you have them 
+
+ill to friend 
+
+Till your deeds gain them: fairer prove your 
+honour 
+
+
+let 
+
+
+Than in my thought it lies. 
+
+Dia. Good, my lord, 
+Ask him upon his oath, if he does think 
+He had not my virginity. 
+
+King. What say’st thou to her? 
+
+Ber, She ’s impudent, my lord, 
+And was a common gamester to the camp. 
+
+Dia. He does me wrong, my lord; if I 
+
+were so, 
+He might have bought me at a common price: 
+Do not believe him. O, behold this ring, i91 
+Whose high respect and rich validity 
+Did lack a parallel; yet for all that 
+He gave it to a commoner o’ the camp, 
+If I be one. 
+
+Count. He blushes, and ‘tis it: 
+
+Of six preceding ancestors, that gem, 
+Conferr’d by testament to the sequent issue, 
+Hath it been owed and worn. This is his wife; 
+That ring’s a thousand proofs. 
+
+King. Methought you said 
+You saw one here in court could witness it. 200 
+Dia. 1 dd, my lord, but loath am to produce 
+
+So bad an instrument: his name’s Parolles. 
+Laf. 1 saw the man to-day, if man he be. 
+King. Find him, and bring him hither. 
+
+[Exit an Attendant. 
+
+Ber. What of him? 
+He's quoted for a most perfidious slave, 
+With all the spots o’ the world tax’d and 
+
+debosh'd; 
+
+Whose nature sickens but to speak a truth, 
+
+) Am I or that or this for what he'll utter, 
+
+That w.ll speak any thing? 
+
+King. She hath ‘that ring of yours, 
+
+Ber. Tothink she. has: ‘certain! iss amis 
+
+her, 
+
+And boarded her 1’ the wanton way of youth: 
+
+She knew her distance and dd angle for me, 
+
+Madding my eagerness with her restraint, 
+
+As all impediments in fancy's course 
+
+Are motives of more fancy; and, in fine, 
+
+Her infinite cunning, with her modern grace, 
+
+Subdued me to her rate: she got the ring; 
+
+And I had that which any inferior might 
+
+At market-price have bought. 
+
+Dia. I must be patients 
+You, that have turn’d off a first so noble wife, 
+May wustly diet me. I pray you yet; 22f 
+Since you lack virtue, I will lose a husband; 
+Send for your ring, I will return it home, 
+And give me mine again. 
+
+Ber. I have it not. 
+
+King. What ring was yours, I pray you? 
+
+Dia. Sir, much like 
+The same upon your finger. 
+
+King. Know you this ring? this ring was 
+
+his of late. 
+| Dia. And this was it I gave him, being abed, 
+
+
+Pa) 
+
+
+See 
+
+
+ve 
+
+
+ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
+
+
+Ee 
+34) 
+
+
+: <foer hs 
+- Acr V, Se. i 
+King. The story then goes false, you threw 
+r 3% him 
+Out of a casement. 
+Dia. I have spoke the truth. 230 
+
+
+Enier Paro tes. 
+Ber. My lord, I do confess the ring was 
+
+
+hers. 
+King. You boggle shrewdly, every feather 
+
+
+starts you. 
+Is this the man you speak of? 
+Dia. Ay, my lord. 
+
+
+King. Tell me, sirrah, but tell me true, | 
+charge you, 
+Not fearing the displeasure of your master, 
+Which on your just proceed ng I'll keep off, 
+By him and by this woman here what know 
+you? 
+Par. So please your majesty, my master 
+hath been an honourable gentleman: tricks he 
+hath had m him, which gentlemen have. 240 
+
+
+King. Come, come, to the purpose: did he | 
+
+
+love this woman? 
+
+Par. Faith, sir, he did love her; but how? 
+
+King. How, I pray you> 
+
+Par. He did love her, sir, as a gentleman 
+loves a woman. 
+
+King. How is that? 
+
+Par. He loved her, sir, and loved her not. 
+
+King. As thou art a knave, and no knave. 
+What an equivocal companion is this! 
+
+Par, 
+esty's command. 
+
+Laf. He’s a good drum, my lord, but a 
+
+
+naughty orator. 
+
+
+Dia. Do you know he promised me mar- 
+
+
+riage? 
+
+Par. Faith, I know more than I'll speak. 
+
+King. But wilt thou not speak all thou 
+Knowest? 
+
+Par. Yes, so please your majesty. I did| 
+go between them, as I said; but more than | 
+that, he loved her: for deed he was mad 
+
+
+250 | 
+
+
+I am a poor man, and at your maj- | 
+
+
+King. Who lent it you? 
+ia. It was not lent me neither. 
+King. Where did you find it then? 
+Dia. I found it not. 
+King. If it were yours by none of all these 
+ways, 
+How could you give it him? 
+Dia. I never gave it him. 
+Laf. This woman’s an easy glove, my lord; 
+she goes off and on at pleasure. 
+
+
+King. This ring was mine; I gave it his 
+first wife, 280 
+
+Dia. It might be yours or hers, for aught 
+I know. 
+
+King. Take her away: I do not like her 
+now; 
+
+
+| To prison with her: and away with him. 
+Unless thou tell’st me where thou hadst this 
+
+
+ring, 
+Thou diest within this hour. 
+Dia. I'll never tell you. 
+King. Take her away. 
+Dia. Ill be put in bail, my liege. 
+King. | think thee now some common cus- 
+tomer. 
+Dia. By Jove, if ever I knew man, ‘twas you. 
+
+
+King. Wherefore hast thou accused him all 
+this while? 
+Dia. Because he's guilty, and he is not 
+guilty: 290 
+He knows I am no maid, and he ‘Il swear to 't; 
+I ‘li swear I am a maid, and he knows not. 
+| Great king, I am no strumpet, by my life; 
+I am either maid, or else this old man’s wife. 
+
+
+King. She does abuse our ears: to prison 
+w.th her. 
+
+| Dia. Good mother, fetch my bail. Stay, 
+
+royal sir: [E xit Widow, 
+
+
+| The jeweller that owes the ring is sent for, 
+
+| And he shall surety me. But for this lord, 
+
+Who hath abused me, as he knows himself, 
+Though yet he never harm'd me, here I quit 
+him: 300 
+
+
+for her, and talked of Satan and of Limbo | He knows himself my bed he hath defiled; 
+
+
+and of Furies and I know not what: yet I was 
+in that credit with them at that time that I 
+knew of their going to bed, and of other 
+motions, as promising her marriage, and things 
+which would derive me ill will to speak of; 
+therefore I will not speak what I know. 
+King. Thou hast spoken ali already, unless 
+thou canst say they are married: but thou art 
+too fine in thy evidence; therefore stand 
+“side. This ring, you say, was yours? 
+Dia. Ay, my good lord. 
+King. Where did you buy’ it? or who 
+gave it you? 
+Dia. It was not given me. nor I did not 
+buy it. 
+
+
+And at that time he got his wife with child: 
+
+Dead though she be, “she feels her young one 
+kick: 
+
+So there *s my riddle: one that’s dead is 
+
+
+ck: 
+And now behold the meaning. 
+Re-enter Widow, with HELENA. 
+
+
+King. Is there no exorcist 
+Beguiles the truer office cf mine eyes? 
+Is"t veal that I see? 
+
+Hel. No, my good lord; 
+‘Tis but the shadow of a wife you see. 
+The name and not the thing. 
+
+Ber. Both, both. O. pardon! 
+
+
+Pw 
+
+
+gauneee ae is etal mS 
+Hel. O my good lord, when I was like 
+
+
+. maid, i 
+I found you wondrous kind. There is your 
+
+
+ring; 
+And, look you, here's your letter; this it 
+says: : 
+* When from my finger you can get this ring 
+And are by me with child,’ &c. This is done: 
+Will you be mine, now you are doubly won? 
+Ber. If she, my liege, can make me know 
+this clearly, 
+I'll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly. 
+Hel. If it appear not plain and prove un- 
+true, 
+Deadly divorce step between me and you! 
+O my dear mother, do I see you living? 320 
+Laf. Mine eyes smell onions; I shall weep 
+
+
+anon: 
+[To Parolles] Good Tom Drum, lend me a 
+handkercher: so, 
+I thank thee: wait on me home, I'll make 
+sport with thee: 
+Let thy courtesies alone, they are scurvy ones. 
+King. Let us from point to point this story 
+know, 
+
+
+this ae BEE ae, teuthokal u 
+
+
+[To Diana] If thou be'st ye rr 
+cropped flower, = | 
+Choose thou thy husband, and I'll p 
+dower; ay Hes 
+For I can guess that by thy honest a 
+Thou kept'st a wife herself, thyself a maid 
+Of that and all the progress, more an 
+Resolvedly more leisure shall s: 
+All yet seems well; and if it end so m 
+The bitter past, more welcome is the sv 
+
+
+~ [Flo 
+a ; \ ws 
+EPILOGUE} 3. Spa 
+
+
+5, mT4 
+
+
+King. The king's a beggar, now 
+is done: ten 
+All is well ended, if th’s be won, 
+That you express content; which we will p 
+With strife to please you, day exceeding 
+Ours be your patience then, and yours: 
+parts; apo ; 
+Your gentle hands lend us, and take our 
+hearts. iPS AR 
+
+
+ivi ae ae 
+
+
+aber 
+tay 
+
+ee | 
+
+; 
+
+
+> 
+
+
+ent” hi PS fae 
+ORES 
+
+
+TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL 
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSON/E 
+
+
+. Orsino, Duke of Illyria. 
+SEBASTIAN, brother to Viola. 
+ANTONIO, a sea captain, friend to Sebas- 
+tian. 
+A Sea Captain, friend to Viola. 
+VALENTINE, | gentlemen attending on the 
+Curio, ‘ duke. 
+Sir Tosy BeEtcH, uncle to Olivia. 
+Sir ANDREW AGUECHEEK. 
+Matvo.io, steward to Olivia. 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+
+
+Scene I. The Duke's palace. 
+
+
+Enter Duxe, Curio, and other Lords; Mu- 
+sicians attending. 
+
+Duke. If music be the food of love, play on; 
+Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, 
+The appetite may sicken, and so die. 
+That strain again! it had a dying fall: 
+O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound, 
+That breathes upon a bank of violets, 
+Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more: 
+’Tis not so sweet now as it was before. 
+O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou, 
+That, notwithstanding thy capacity 10 
+Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there, 
+Of what validity and pitch soe’er, 
+But falls into abatement and low price, 
+Even in a minute: so full of shapes in fancy 
+That it alone is h'gh fantastical. 
+
+Cur. Will you ge hunt, my lord? 
+What, Curio? 
+
+
+Duke. Why, so oi do, the noblest that I have: 
+O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first, 
+Methought she purged the air of pestilence! 20 
+That instant was I turn’d into a hart; 
+
+
+_ And my cesires, like fell and cruel hounds; 
+
+
+‘alain aa 
+
+
+E’er since pursue me. 
+Enter VALENTINE. 
+
+
+How now! what news from her? 
+Val. So please my lord, 1 might not be 
+admitted ; 
+But from her handmaid do return this an- 
+swer: 
+The element itself, till seven years’ heat, 
+Shall not behold her face at ample view; 
+But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk 
+
+
+FaBian, 
+FEsTE, a Clown, 
+OLIVIA. 
+VIOLA. 
+Maria, Olivia’s woman. 
+Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians. 
+and other Attendants. 
+
+
+t servants to Olivia. 
+
+
+ScENE: A city in Illyria, and the sea-coasi 
+near it. 
+
+
+| And water once a day her chamber round 
+With eye-offending brine: all this to season 36 
+A brother’s dead love, which she would keep 
+fresh 
+And lasting in her sad remembrance. 
+Duke. O, she that hath a heart of that fine 
+frame 
+To pay this debt of love but to a brother, 
+How will she love, when the rich golden shaft 
+Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else 
+That live in her; when liver, brain and heart, 
+These acres thrones, are all supplied, and 
+fill’ 
+Her sweet perfections with one self king! 
+Away before me to sweet beds of flowers: 4€ 
+Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with 
+bowers. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. The sea-coast. 
+Enter VioLa, a Captain, and Sailors. 
+Vio. What country, friends, is this? 
+Cap. This is Illyria, lady. 
+Vio. And what should I do in Illyria? 
+My brother he is in Elysium. 
+| Perchance he is not drown'd: what think you, 
+
+
+sailors? 
+Cap. It is perchance that you yourself were 
+saved. 
+| Vio. O my poor brother! and so perchance 
+
+
+may he be. 
+Cap. True, madam: 
+
+with chance, 
+Assure yourself, after our ship did split, 
+When you and those poor number saved with 
+
+you 10 
+Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother, 
+Most provident in peril, bind himself, 
+Courage and hope both teaching him the 
+
+practice, 
+
+
+and, to comfort you 
+
+
+343 
+
+
+344 
+
+
+To a strong mast that lived upon the sea; 
+Where, like Arion on the dolphin’s back, 
+
+I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves 
+So long as I could see. 
+
+Vio. For saying so, there’s gold: 
+
+Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope, 
+Whereto thy speech serves for authority, 20 
+The like of him. Know’st thou this country? 
+Cap. Ay, madam, well; I was bred and 
+born 
+Not three hours’ travel from this yery place. 
+
+Vio. Who governs here? 
+
+Cap. A noble duke, in nature as in name. 
+
+Vio. What is his name? 
+
+Cap. Orsino. 
+
+" Vio. Orsino! 
+name him: 
+He was a bachelor then. 
+
+Cap. And so is now, or was so very late; 30 
+For but a month ago I went from hence, 
+And then ‘twas fresh in murmur,—as, you 
+
+know, 
+What great ones do the less will prattle of — 
+That he did seek the love of fair Olivia. 
+Vio. What’s she? 
+Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a 
+count 
+That died some twelvemonth since, then leav- 
+ing her 
+Jn the protection of his son, her brother, 
+Who shortly also died: for whose dear love, 
+They say, she hath abjured the company 40 
+And sight of men. 
+
+Vio. O that I served that lady 
+And might not be delivered to the world, 
+Till I had made mine own occasion mellow, 
+What my estate is! 
+
+Cap. That were hard to compass; 
+Becaue she will admit no kind of suit, 
+
+No, not the duke’s. 
+Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, 
+
+captain; 
+And though that nature with a beauteous wall 
+Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee 
+I will believe thou hast a mind that suits 50 
+With this thy fair and outward character. 
+I prithee, and I'll pay thee bounteously, 
+Conceal me what I am, and be my aid 
+For such disguise as haply shall become 
+The form of my intent. I'll serve 
+
+duke: 
+Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him: 
+It may be worth thy pains; for I can sing 
+And speak to him in many sorts of music 
+That will allow. me very worth his service. 
+What else may hap to time 1 will commit; 60 
+Dnly shape thou thy silence to my wit. 
+
+Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute 
+I'll be: 
+
+
+I have heard my father 
+
+
+this 
+
+
+oes. a gi 
+a: ; 
+
+
+e a : eee 
+TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL ‘[AcrI, Sc. II | 4 
+
+
+When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes 
+not see. 
+Vio. I thank thee: lead me on. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. Oxtvia’s house. 
+Enter Sir Tosy BeLtcH and Maria. 
+
+
+Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to 
+take the death of her brother thus? I am 
+sure care’s an enemy to life. 
+
+
+Mar. By my troth, Sir Toby, you must” 
+
+
+come in earlier o’ nights: your cousin, my 
+lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours, 
+
+Sir To. Why, let her except, before ex- 
+cepted. 
+
+Mar. Ay, but you must confine yourself 
+within the modest lim‘ts of order. 9 
+
+Sir To., Confine! I'll confine myself no 
+finer than I am: these clothes are good 
+enough to drink in; and so be these boots too: 
+an they be not, let them hang themselves in 
+their own straps. 
+
+
+Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo ~ 
+
+
+you: I heard my lady talk of it yesterday; 
+and of a foolish kn ght that you brought in 
+one night here to be her wooer, 
+
+Sir To. Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek ? 
+
+Mar. Ay. he. 
+
+Sir To. He’s as tall a man as any’s in 
+Illyria. ‘ 
+
+Mar. What's that to the purpose? 21 
+
+Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats 
+a year, 
+
+Mar, Ay, but he'll have but a year in all 
+these ducats: he’s a very fool and a prodigal. 
+
+Sir To. Fie, that you ‘ll say so! he plays 0° 
+
+
+the viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four | 
+
+
+languages word for word without book, and 
+hath all the good gifts of nature. 29 
+
+Mar. He hath indeed, almost natural; for 
+besides that he ’s a fool, he ’s a great quarreller; 
+and but that he hath the gift of a coward to 
+allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, ‘tis 
+thought among the prudent he would quickly 
+have the gift of a grave. 
+
+Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels 
+and substractors that say so of him, Who are 
+they ? 
+
+Mar. They that add, moreover, he’s drunk 
+nightly in your company. 39 
+
+Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece: 
+I'll drink to her as long as there is a passage 
+in my throat and drink in Illyria: he’s a cow- 
+ard and a coystrill that will not drink to my 
+niece till his brains turn o’ the toe like a 
+parish-top. What, wench! Castiliano vulgo! 
+for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface. 
+
+
+Enter Sin ANDREW AGUECHFEK. 
+
+
+_ Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir 
+Toby Belch! 
+
+Sir To. Sweet Sir Andrew! 
+‘Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew. 
+hae Mar. And you too, sir. 
+
+Sir To. Accost, Sir Andrew, accost. 
+
+Sir And. What's that? 
+
+Sir To! My niece’s chambermaid. 
+
+Sir And. Good Mistress Accost, I desire 
+better acquaintance. 
+~ Mar. My name is Mary, sir. 
+
+Sir And, Good Mistress Mary Accost,— 
+
+Sir To. You mistake, knight: ‘accost’ is 
+_ front her, board her, woo her, assail her. 60 
+
+_ Sir And. By my troth, I would not under- 
+_ take her in this company. Is that the mean- 
+ing of * accost’>? 
+
+Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen. 
+
+Sir To. An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, 
+would thou mightst never draw sword again., 
+
+Sir And. An you part so, mistress, I would 
+1 might never draw sword again. Fair lady, 
+do you think you have fools in hand? 
+Mar. Sir, 1 have not you. by the hand. 70 
+: Sir And. Marry, but you shall have; and 
+- here’s my hand. 
+
+Mar. Now, sir, * thought is free:’ I pray 
+you, bring your hand to the buttery-bar and 
+det it drink. 
+
+Sir And. Wherefore, sweet-heart? what's 
+your metaphor > 
+
+Mar. It’s dry, sir. 
+
+Sir And. Why, I think so: I am not such 
+an ass but I can keep my hand dry. But 
+what's your jest? 80 
+Mar. A dry jest, sir. 
+
+Sir And. Are you full of them? 
+
+_ Mar. Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers’ 
+ends: marry, now I let go your hand, I am 
+barren. A [ Exit. 
+
+Sir To. O knight, thou lackest a cup of 
+_ canary: when did I see thee so put down? 
+Sir And. Never in your life, I think; un- 
+
+less you see canary put me down. Methinks 
+sometimes | have no more wit than a Chris- 
+tian or an ordinary man has: but I am a 
+great eater of beef and I believe that does 
+harm to my wit. 91 
+Sir To. No question. 
+
+__ Sir And. An I thought that, I‘Id forswear 
+it.) I'll ride home to-morrow, Sir Toby. 
+
+Sir To. Pourquoi, my dear knight? 
+‘Sir And. What is * pourquoi’? do or not 
+
+do? “I would I had bestowed that time in 
+the tongues that I have in fencing, dancing 
+and bear-baiting: O, had I but followed her 
+arts! 
+
+__ Sir To. Then hadst thou had an excellent 
+head of hair. 101 
+
+
+50 
+
+
+348 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+Sir And. Why, would that have mended 
+my hair? : 
+
+Sir To. Past question; for thou seest it 
+will not curl by nature. 
+
+Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, 
+does 't not? 
+
+Sir To. Excellent; it hangs like flax on a 
+distaff; and I hope to see a housewife take 
+thee between her legs and spin it off. 110 
+
+Sir And. Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Si 
+Toby: your niece will not be seen; or if she 
+be, it’s four to one she'll none of me: the 
+count himself here hard by woos her. 
+
+Sir To. She'll none o’ the count: she ‘Il 
+not match above her degree, neither in es- 
+tate, years, nor wit; I have heard her swear “i, 
+Tut, there ’s life in't, man. 
+
+Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am 
+a fellow o’ the strangest mind i’ the world; I 
+delight in masques and revels sometimes al- 
+together. 121 
+
+Sir To. Art thou good at these kick- 
+shawses, knight? 
+
+Sir And. As any man im Illyria, whatso- 
+ever he be, under the degree of my betters; 
+and yet I will not compare with an old man. 
+
+Sir To. What is thy excellence in a gal- 
+liard, knight? 
+
+Sir And. Faith, I can cut a caper. 
+
+Sir To. And IJ can cut the mutton to 't. 130 
+
+Sir And. And I think I have the back- 
+trick simply as strong as any man in Illyria. 
+
+Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? 
+wherefore have these gifts a curtain before 
+“em? are they like to take dust, like Mistress 
+Mall’s picture? why dost thou not go to church 
+in a galliard and come home in a corantc? 
+My very walk should be a jig; I would not so 
+much as make water but in a sink-a-pace. 
+What dost thou mean? Is it a world to hide 
+virtues in? I did think, by the excellent con- 
+stitution of thy leg, it was formed under the 
+star of a  galliard. 
+
+Sir And. Ay, ‘tis strong, and it doés in- 
+different well in a flame-coloured stock. Shall 
+we set about some revels? 
+
+Sir To. What shall we do else? were we 
+not born under Taurus > 
+
+Sir And. Taurus! That's sides and heart. 
+
+Sir To. No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let 
+meé séé thee caper: ha! higher: ha, ha! excel- 
+lent! [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. The Duke's palace. 
+Enter VALENTINE, and VIOLA in man’s ailtire. 
+
+
+Val. If the duke continue these favours to- 
+wards you, Cesario, you are like to be much 
+advanced: he hath known you but three days. 
+and already you are no stranger. 
+
+
+546 
+
+
+TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL ~ 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+[Act I, Sc. V 
+
+
+Vio. You either fear his humour or my 
+negligence, that you call in question the con- 
+tinuance of his love: is he inconstant, sir, in 
+his favors? 
+
+
+Val. No, believe me. 
+Vio. I thank you. Here comes the count. 
+
+
+Enter Duxe, Curio, and Attendants. 
+Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho? 10 
+
+
+Vio. On your attendance, my lord; here. 
+
+Duke. Stand you a while aloof. Cesario, 
+Thou know’st no less but all; 1 have unclasp’d 
+To thee the book even of my secret soul: 
+Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto 
+
+her; 
+Be not denied access, stand at her doors, 
+And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow 
+Till thou have audience. 
+
+Vio. Sure, my noble lord, 
+lt she be so abandon’d to her sorrow 
+AAs it is spoke, she never will admit me. 20 
+
+Duke. Be clamorous and leap all civil 
+
+bounds 
+Rather than make uproxited return. 
+
+Vio. Say 1 do speak with her, my lord, 
+
+what then? 
+
+Duke. O, then unfold the passion of my 
+
+love, 
+Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith: 
+{: shall become thee well to act my woes; 
+She will attend it better in thy youth 
+Than in a nuncio’s of more grave aspect. 
+
+Vio. I think not so, my lord. 
+
+Duke. Dear lad, believe it; 
+For they shall yet belie thy happy years, 30 
+That say thou art a man: Diana’s lip 
+Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small 
+
+pipe 
+Is as the maiden’s organ, shrill and sound, 
+And all is semblative a woman's part. 
+I know thy constellation is right apt 
+For this affair. Some four or five attend him; 
+All, if you will; for I myself am best 40 
+When least in company. Prosper well in this, 
+And thou shalt Jive as freely as thy lord, 
+To call his’ fortunes thine. 
+
+Vio. Ill do my best 
+
+To woo your lady: [Aside] yet, a barful 
+strife! 
+Whoe’er I woo, myself would be his wife. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene V. Ottvia’s house. 
+Enter Maria and CLown. 
+
+Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast 
+been, or I will not open my lips so wide as a 
+bristle may enter in way of thy excuse: my 
+iady will hang thee for thy absence. _ 
+
+Clo. Let her hang me: he that is well 
+
+
+hanged in th's world needs to fear no colours, ~ 
+
+
+Mar. Make that good. 
+
+Clo. He shall see none to fear. 
+
+Mar. A good lenten answer: I can tell 
+thee where that saying was born, of ‘I fear 
+no colours.’ 10 
+
+Clo. Where, good Mistress Mary? 
+
+Mar. In the wars; and that may you be 
+bold to say in your foolery. 
+
+Clo. Well, God give them wisdom that 
+have it; and those that are fools, let them use 
+their talents. 
+
+Mar. Yet you will be hanged for being so 
+long absent; or to be turned away, is not that 
+as good as a hanging to you? 19 
+
+Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad 
+marriage; and, for turning away, let summer 
+bear it out. 
+
+Mar. You are resolute, then? 
+
+Clo. Not so, neither; but I am resolved on 
+two points. 
+
+Mar. That if one break, the other will 
+hold; or, if both break, your gaskins fall. 
+
+
+Clo. Apt, in good faith; very apt. Well, — 
+
+
+go thy way; if Sir Toby would leave drink- 
+ing, thou wert as witty a piece of Eve’s flesh 
+as any in Illyria. 31 
+
+Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o” that. 
+Here comes my lady: make your excuse 
+wisely, you were best. [Exit. 
+
+Clo. Wit, ant be thy will, put me into 
+good fooling! Those wits, that thnk they 
+have thee, do very oft prove fools; and I, that 
+am sure I lack thee, may pass for a wise man: 
+for what says Quinapalus? ‘Better a witty 
+fool than a foolish wit.’ 40 
+
+
+Enter Lady Outvia mith MaLvotio. 
+
+
+God bless thee, lady! 
+
+Oli. Take the fool away. " 
+
+Clo. Do you not hear, fellows? Take 
+away the lady. 
+
+Oli. Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no 
+more of you: besides, you grow dishonest. 
+
+Clo. Two faults, madonna, that drink and 
+good counsel will amend: for give the dry fool 
+drink, then is the fool not dry; bid the dis- 
+honest man mend himself; if he mend, he is 
+no longer dishonest; if he cannot let the 
+botcher mend him. Any thing that’s mended 
+is but patched: virtue that transgresses is but 
+patched with sin; and sin that amends is but 
+patched with virtue. If that th’s simple 
+syllogism will serve, so; if it will not, what’ 
+remedy? As there is no true cuckold but 
+calamity, so beauty’s a flower. The lady 
+bade take away the fool; therefore, I say 
+again, take her away. 
+
+
+Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you. 60 
+
+
+‘wen. 
+
+
+i in ee 
+_ eds 
+
+
+> 
+
+
+Act I, Se. V] 
+
+__ Clo. Misprision in the highest degree! 
+Lady, cucullus non facit monachum; that’s as 
+much to say as I wear not motley in my brain. 
+Good madonna, give me leave to prove you a 
+fool. 
+
+Oli. Can you do it? 
+
+Clo. Dexteriously, good madonna. 
+
+Oli. Make your proof. 
+
+Clo. I must catechize you for it, madonna: 
+good my mouse of virtue, answer me. 
+
+Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, 
+U'll bide your proof. 7\ 
+
+Clo. Good madonna, why mournest thou? 
+
+Oli. Good fool, for my brother’s death. 
+
+Clo. I think his soul is in hell, madonna. 
+
+Oli. 1 know his soul is in heaven, fool. 
+
+Clo. The more fool, madonna, to mourn 
+for your brother’s soul being in heaven. Take 
+away the fool, gentlemen. 
+
+Oli. What think you of this fool, Mal- 
+yolio? doth he not mend? 80 
+
+Mal. Yes, and shall do till the pangs of 
+death shake him: infirmity, that decays the 
+wise, doth ever make the better fool. 
+
+Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, 
+for the better increas ng your folly! Sir Toby 
+will be sworn that I am no fox; but he will 
+not pass his word for two pence that you are 
+no fool. 
+
+Oli. Hew say you to that, Malvolio? 
+
+Mal. I marvel your ladyship takes delight 
+in such a barren rascal: I saw him put down 
+the other day with an ordinary fool that has no 
+more brain than a stone. Look you now, he’s 
+out of his guard already; unless you laugh 
+and minister occasion to him, he is gagged. | 
+protest, I take these wse men, that crow so 
+at these set kind of fools, no better than the 
+fools’ zanies. 
+
+Oli. O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, 
+and taste with a distempered appetite. To be 
+generous, guiltless and of free disposition, is to 
+take those things for bird-bolis that you deem 
+cannon-bullets: there is no slander in an al- 
+lowed fool, though he do nothing but rail; 
+nor no railing in a known discreet man, 
+though he do nothing but reprove. f 
+
+Clo. Now Mercury endue thee with leas- 
+ing, for thou speakest well of fools! 
+
+
+Re-enter Maria. 
+
+
+Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young 
+gentleman much desires to speak with you. 
+Oli.*-From the Count Orsino, is it? 
+Mar. | know not, madam: ‘tis a fair young 
+man, and well attended. 111 
+- Oli, Who of my people hold him in delay > 
+Mar. Six Toby, madam, your kinsman. 
+Oli, Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks 
+
+
+TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL 
+
+
+347 
+
+
+noth'ng but madman: fie on him! [Exit 
+Maria.| Go you, Malvolio: if it be a suit 
+from the count, I am sick, or not at home; 
+what you will, to dismiss it. [Exit Maivolio.} 
+Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows 
+old, and people dislike it. 
+
+Clo. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as 
+if thy eldest son should be a fool; whose skull 
+Jove cram with brains! for,—here he comes,— 
+one of thy kin has a most weak pia mater. 
+
+
+Enter Sir Topsy. 
+Oli. By mine honour, half drunk. What 
+
+
+is he at the gate, cousin? 
+
+Sir To. A gentleman. 
+
+Oli. A gentleman! what gentleman? 
+
+Sir To. "Tis a gentleman here—a plague 
+o' these pickle-herring! How now, sot! 
+
+Clo. Good Sir Toby! 130 
+
+Oli. Cousin, cousin, how have you come 
+so early by this lethargy? 
+
+Sir To. Lechery! I defy lechery. There's 
+one at the gate. 
+
+Oli. Ay, marry, what is he? 
+
+Sir To. Let him be the devil, an he will. 
+I care not: give me faith, say I. Well, it’s 
+all one. [Exit, 
+
+Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool? 
+
+Clo, Like a drowned man, a fool and a 
+mad man: one draught above heat makes him 
+a fool; the second mads him; and a third 
+drowns him. 
+
+Oli. Go thou and seek the crowner, and let 
+him sit o’ my coz; for he’s in the third degree 
+of drink, he’s drowned: go, look after him. 
+
+Clo. He is but mad yet, madonna; and the 
+fool shall look to the madman. [Exit 
+
+
+Re-enter Matyouio. 
+
+
+Mal. Madam, yond young fellow swears 
+he will speak with you. I told him you were 
+sick; he takes on him to understand so much, 
+and therefore comes to speak with you. I 
+told him you were asleep; he seems to have a 
+foreknowledge of that too, and_ therefore 
+comes to speak with you. What is to be said 
+to him, lady? he’s fortified against any denial. 
+
+Oli. Tell hm he shall not speak with me. 
+
+Mal. Has been told so; and he says, he ‘Il 
+stand at your door like a sheriff's post, and be 
+the supporter to a bench, but he ‘Il speak with 
+you. 
+
+Oli. What kind 0’ man is he? 
+
+Mal, Why, cf mankind. 
+
+Oli. What manner of man? 
+
+Mal. Of very ill manner; he'll speak with 
+you, will you or no, 
+
+Oli. Of what personage and years is he? 
+
+Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor 
+young enough for a boy; as a squash is before 
+
+
+160 
+
+
+Con ee a 
+346 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL [Act1,Sc.V — 
+
+
+giant, sweet lady. Tell me your mind: | am a 
+messenger. 220 
+Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter 
+to deliver, when the courtesy of it is so fear- 
+ful. Speak your office. : 
+
+Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I bring 
+no overture of war, no taxation of homage: I 
+hold the olive in my hand; my words are as 
+full of peace as matter. 
+
+Oli. Yet you began rudely. What are 
+you? what would you? 229 
+
+Vio. The rudeness that hath appeared in me 
+have I learned from my entertainment. What 
+I am, and what I would, are as secret as 
+maidenhead; to your ears, divinity, to any 
+other’s, profanation. 
+
+Oli. Give us the place alone; we will hear 
+this divinity. [Exeunt Maria and Attendants.) 
+Now, sir, what is your ‘text? 
+
+Vio. Most sweet lady,— 
+
+Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much 
+may be said of it. Where liest your text? 240 
+
+Vio. In Orsino’s bosom. ; 
+
+Oli. In his bosom! In what chapter of 
+his bosom? A 
+
+Vio. To answer by. the method, in the first 
+of his heart. 
+
+Oli. O, I have read it: it is heresy. Have 
+you no more to say? 3 
+
+Vio. Good madam, let me see your face. ; 
+
+Oli. Have you any commission from your 
+lord to negotiate with my face? You are now 
+out of your text: but we will draw the curtain’ 
+and show you the picture. Look you, sir, such 
+a one | was this present: ist not well done? 
+
+[Unveiling. — 
+
+Vio. Excellently done, if God did all. ; 
+
+Oli. ’Tis in grain, sir; “twill endure wind 
+and weather. 
+
+Vio. ‘Tis beauty truly blent, whose red 
+
+and white ; 
+Nature’s own sweet and cunning hand laid on: 
+Lady, you are the cruell’st she alive, 
+If you will lead these graces to the grave 260 
+And leave the world no copy. 
+
+Oli. O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I 
+will give out divers schedules of my beauty: it 
+shall be inventoried, and every particle and 
+utensil labelled to my will: as, item, two lips, 
+indifferent red; item, two grey eyes, with lids 
+to them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. 
+Were you sent hither to praise me? 
+
+Vio. 1 see you what you are, you are too 
+
+proud; 
+But, if you were the devil, you are fair. 270 
+My lord and master loves you: O, such love 
+Could be but recompensed, though you were 
+crown’d 
+The nonpareil of beauty! 
+
+
+tis a peascod, or a codling when "tis almost an 
+apple: ‘tis with him in standing water, be- 
+tween boy and man. He is very well- 
+favoured and he speaks very shrewishly; one 
+would think his mother’s milk were scarce out 
+of him. 17] 
+
+Oli. Let him approach: call in my gentle- 
+woman. 
+
+Mal. Gentlewoman, my lady calls, [Exit! 
+
+
+Re-enter Maria. 
+
+
+Oli. Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er 
+my face. 
+We'll once more hear Orsino’s embassy. 
+
+
+Enter Viota, and Attendants. 
+
+
+Vio. The honourable lady of the house, 
+which is she? 
+
+Oli. Speak to me; I shall answer for her. 
+Your will? 180 
+
+Vio. Most radiant, exquisite and unmatch- 
+able beauty,—I pray you, tell me if this be the 
+lady of the house, for I never saw her: 1 would 
+be loath to cast away my speech, for besides 
+that it is excellently well penned, I have taken 
+great pains to con it. Good beauties, let me 
+sustain no scorn; I am very comptible, even 
+to the least sinister usage. 
+
+Oli. Whence came you, sir? 189 
+
+Vio. I can say little more than I have 
+studied, and that question’s out of my part. 
+Good gentle one, give me modest assurance if 
+you be the lady of the house, that I may pro- 
+ceed in my speech. 
+
+Oli. Are you a comedian? 
+
+Vio. No, my profound heart: and yet, by 
+the very fangs of malice I swear, I am not 
+that I play. Are you the lady of the house ? 
+
+Oli. If I do not usurp myself, I am. 
+
+Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do 
+nsurp yourself; for what ts yours to bestow is 
+not yours to reserve. But this is from my com- 
+mission: I will on with my speech in your 
+praise, and then show you the heart of my 
+message. 
+
+Oli. Come to what is important in ‘t: I 
+forgive you the praise. 
+
+Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study it, 
+and ‘tis poetical. 
+
+Oli. It is the more like to be feigned; I 
+pray you, keep it in. I heard you were saucy 
+at my gates, and allowed your approach rather 
+‘to wonder at you than to hear you. If you be 
+not mad, be gone; if you have reason, be 
+brief: ’t's not that time of moon with me to 
+make one in so skipping a dialogue. 
+
+Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies 
+your way. 
+
+Vio. No, good swabber; I am to hull here 
+a little longer. Some mollification for your 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+¥- 
+
+
+Act H, 
+
+
+5 
+4 
+
+
+So M7 ; 
+
+
+COT: How does he love me? 
+
+Vio. With adorations, fertile tears, 
+
+- With groans that thunder love, with sighs of 
+fire. 
+
+Oli. Your lord does know my mind; | 
+
+cannot love him: 
+Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, 
+Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth; 
+In voices well divulged, free, learn’d and 
+valiant; 
+And in dimension and the shape of nature 280 
+A gracious person: but yet I cannot love him; 
+He might have took his answer long ago. 
+
+Vio. If I did love you in my master’s flame, 
+With sucha suffering, such a deadly life, 
+In your denial I would find no sense; 
+
+I would not understand it. 
+
+Ol. Why, what would you? 
+
+Vio. Make me a willow cab’n at your gate, 
+And call upon my soul wiihin the house; 
+
+
+_. Write loyal cantons of contemned love 
+
+
+' 
+
+
+And sing them loud even in the dead of night; 
+Halleo your name to the reverberate hills 291 
+And make the babbling gossip of the air 
+Cry out “Olivia!” ©, you should not rest 
+Between the elements of air and earth, 
+But you should pity me! 
+
+Oli, You might do much. 
+What is your parentage? 
+
+Vio. Above my fortune, yet my state is 
+
+
+well: 
+_ I am a gentleman. 
+Oli. Get you to your lord; 
+
+
+I cannot love him: let him send no more: 
+
+
+, 
+‘a 
+q Placed in contempt! 
+a 
+
+
+Unless, perchance, you come to me again, 300 
+
+_ To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well: 
+
+I thank you for your pains: spend this for me. 
+
+_ Vio. I am no fee’d post, lady; keep your 
+
+i purse: 
+
+_ My master, not myself, lacks recompense. 
+Love make his heart of flint that you shall love; 
+And let your fervour, like my master’s, be 
+
+Farewell, fair cruelty. 
+
+on [Exit. 
+
+__ Oli. * What is your parentage?’ 
+
+_* Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: 
+famagentleman.’ I'll be sworn thou art; 310 
+
+_ Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions and 
+
+4 spirit, 
+
+Do give thee five-fold blazon: not too fast: 
+soft, soft! 
+
+Unless the master were the man. How now! 
+
+Even so quickly may one catch the plague? 
+
+Methinks I feel this youth’s perfections 
+With an iny’sible and subile stealth 
+
+_ To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be. 
+
+~ What ho, Malvolio! 
+
+Re-enter Matvotio. 
+Mal. 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL 
+
+
+Here, madam, at your service. ! 
+
+
+349 
+
+
+Oli, Run after that same peevish mes- 
+senger, 
+The county’s man: he left this ring behind 
+him, 
+Would I or not: tell him ill none of it. 32] 
+Desire him not to flatter with his lord, 
+Nor hold him up w.th hopes; I am not for him: 
+If that youth will come this way to-morrow, 
+I'll give him reasons for ’t? hie thee, Malvolio. 
+Mal. Madam, I will. [Exit. 
+Oli. 1 do I know not what, and fear to find 
+Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind. 
+Fate, show thy force: ourselves we do not owe; 
+
+
+What is decreed must be, and be this so. [Exit. 
+
+
+ACT II. 
+
+
+ScenelI, The sea-coast, 
+
+
+Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN. 
+
+
+Art. Will you stay no longer? nor will 
+you not that I go with you? 
+
+Seb. By your patience, no, My stars shine 
+darkly over me: the malignancy of my fate 
+might perhaps distemper yours; therefore | 
+shall crave of you your leave that 1 may bear 
+my evils alone; it were a bad recompense for 
+your love, to lay any of them on you, 
+
+Ant, Let me yet know of you whither you 
+are bound. y 10 
+
+Seb. No, sooth, sir: my determinate voyage 
+is mere extravagancy. But I perceive in you so 
+excellent a touch of modesty, that you will not 
+extort from me what I am willing to keep in; 
+therefore it charges me in manners the rather 
+to express myself. You must know of me then, 
+Antonio, my name is Sebastian, which I 
+called Roderigo, My father was that Sebas- 
+tion of Messaline, whom I know you have 
+heard of. He left behind him myself and a 
+sister, both born in an hour: if the heavens 
+had been pleased, would we had so ended! 
+but you, sir, altered that; for some hour be- 
+fore you took me from the breach of the sea 
+was my sister drowned, 
+
+Ant. Alas the day! 
+
+Seb. A lady, sr, though it was said she much 
+resembled me, was yet of many accounted 
+beautiful: but, though I could not with such 
+estimable wonder overfar believe that, yet thus 
+far I will boldly publish her; she bore a mind 
+that envy could not but call fair. She is 
+drowned already, sir, with salt water, though 
+I seem to drown her remembrance again with 
+more. 
+
+Ant. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertain- 
+ment, 
+
+Seb. O good Antonio, forgive me your 
+trouble. 
+
+
+350 
+
+
+TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL [Act II, Sc. Ill 
+
+
+Ant. If you will not murder me for my 
+love, let me be your servant. 
+
+Seb. If you will not undo what you have 
+done, that is, kill him whom you have recovered, 
+desire itnot. Fare ye well at once: my bosom is 
+full of kindness, and I am yet so near the man- 
+ners of my mother, that upon the least occa- 
+sion more mine eyes will tell tales of me. I am 
+bound to the Count Orsino’s court: farewell. 
+
+[Exit. 
+Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with 
+thee! 
+I have many enemies in Orsino’s court, 
+Else would I very shortly see thee there. 
+But, come what may, I do adore thee so, 
+That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. 
+[Exit 
+
+
+Scene II. A street. 
+Enter Viora, Matvotio following. 
+
+
+Mal. Were not you even now with the 
+Countess Olivia? 
+
+Vio. Even now, sir; on a moderate pace | 
+have since arrived but hither. 
+
+Mal. She returns this ring to you, sir: you 
+might have saved me my pains, to have taken 
+it away yourself. She adds, moreover, that 
+you should put your lord into a desperate as- 
+surance she will none of him: and one thing 
+more, that you be never so hardy to come 
+again in his affairs, unless it be to report your 
+lord’s taking of this. Receive it so. 
+
+Vio. She took the ring of me: I ‘Il none of it. 
+
+Mal. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to 
+her; and her will is, it should be so returned: 
+if it be worth stooping for, there it lies in your 
+eye; if not, be it his that finds it. [Exit. 
+
+Vio. I left no ring with her: what means 
+
+this lady > 
+Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d 
+her! 
+She made good view of me; indeed, so much, 
+That sure methought her eyes had lost her 
+tongue, 21 
+For she did speak in starts distractedly. 
+She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion 
+Invites me in this churlish messenger. 
+None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her none. 
+I am the man: if it be so, as ‘tis, 
+Poor lady, she were better love a dream. 
+Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness, 
+Wherein the pregnant enemy does much. 
+How easy is it for the proper-false 
+In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms! 
+Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we! 
+For such as we are made of, such we be. 
+How will this fadge? my master loves her 
+dearly; 
+And I, poor monster, fond as much on him; 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me. 
+What will become of this? As I am man, 
+My state is desperate for my master’s love; 
+As I am woman,—now alas the day!— 
+What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe! 
+O time! thou must untangle this, not 1; 41 
+It is too hard a knot for me to untie! [Exit, 
+
+
+Scene III. Olivia's house. 
+Enter Sin Tosy and Sir ANDREW. 
+
+
+Sir To. Approach, Sir Andrew; not to be 
+abed after midnight is to be up betimes; and 
+‘diluculo surgere,’ thou know’st,— 
+
+Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: 
+but I know, to be up late is to be up late. 
+
+Sir To. A false conclusion: | hate it as an 
+unfilled can. To be up after midnight and to 
+go to bed then, is early: so that to go to bed 
+after midnight is to go to bed betimes. Does 
+not our life consist of the four elements? 10 
+
+Sir And. Faith, so they say; but I think it 
+rather consists of eating and drinking. 
+
+Sir To. Thou 'rt a scholar; let us therefore 
+eat and drink. Marian, I say! a stoup of 
+wine! 
+
+
+Enter CLowNn. 
+
+
+Sir And. Here comes the fool, i’ faith. 
+
+Clo. How now, my hearts! did you nevei 
+see the picture of ‘we three’? 
+
+Sir To. Welcome, ass. Now let’s have a 
+catch, 
+
+Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an ex- 
+cellent breast. I had rather than forty shillings 
+I had such a Itg, and so sweet a breath to 
+sing, as the fool has. In sooth, thou wast in 
+very gracious fooling last night, when thou 
+spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians pass- 
+ing the equinoctial of Queubus: ‘twas very 
+good, i’ faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy 
+leman: hadst it? 
+
+Clo. 1. did impeticos thy gratillity; for 
+Malvolio’s nose is no whipstock: my lady 
+has a white hand, and the Myrmidons are no 
+bottle-ale houses. 
+
+Sir And. Excellent! why, this is the best 
+fooling, when all is done. Now, a song. 31 
+
+Sir To. Come on; there is sixpence for 
+you: let's have a song. 
+
+Sir And. There’s a testril of me too: if 
+one knight give a— 
+
+Clo. Would’ you have a love-song, or a 
+song of good life? 
+
+Sir To. A love-song, a love-song. 
+
+Sir And. Ay, ay: I care not for good life. 
+
+Clo. [Sings] 
+
+O mistress mine, where are you roaming? 
+
+O, stay and hear; your true love ’s coming, 
+
+That can sing both high and low: 
+
+
+Act II, Sc. WI] TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL 
+
+
+35} 
+
+
+Trip no further, pretty sweeting; 
+
+Journeys end in lovers meeting, 
+
+Every wise man’s son doth know. 
+
+Sir And. Excellent good, i’ faith. 
+
+Sir To. Good, good. 
+
+Clo. [Sings] 
+
+What is love? ‘ts not hereafter; 
+Present mirth hath present laughter; 
+What's to come is stil! unsure: 
+
+In delay there lies no plenty; 
+Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty, 
+Youth’s a stuff will not endure. 
+
+Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as 1 am true 
+Knight. 
+
+Sir To. A contagious breath. 
+
+Sir And. Very sweet and contagious, 1’ 
+faith. 
+
+Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in 
+contagion. But shall we make the welkin 
+dance indeed? shall we rouse the night-owl 
+in a catch that will draw three souls out of 
+
+
+50 
+
+
+- one weaver? shall we do that? 
+
+
+Sir And. An you love me, let’s do it: I 
+am dog at a catch. 
+
+Clo. By’r lady, sir, and some dogs will 
+catch well. 
+
+Sir And. Most certain. 
+“Thou knave.’ 
+
+Clo. ‘Hold thy peace, thou knave,’ knight? 
+I shall be constrained in’t to call thee knave, 
+knight. 70 
+
+Sir And. ‘Tis not the first time I have 
+constrained one to call me knave. Begin, 
+fool: it begins ‘Hold thy peace.’ 
+
+Clo. I shall never begin if I hold my peace. 
+
+Sir And. Good, i’ faith. Come, begin. 
+
+[Catch sung. 
+
+
+Let our catch be, 
+
+
+Enter Maria. 
+
+
+Mar. What a caterwauling do you keep 
+here! If my lady have not called up her 
+steward Malvolio and bid him turn you out 
+of doors, never trust me. 79 
+
+Sir To. My lady's a Cataian, we are poli- 
+ticians. Malvolio’s a Peg-a-Ramsey, and 
+‘Three merry men be we.’ Am not I con- 
+sanguineous? am I not of her blood? Tilly- 
+vally. Lady! [Sings] “There dwelt a man 
+in Babylon, lady, lady!’ 
+
+Clo. Beshrew me, the knight ’s in admira- 
+ble fooling. 
+
+Sir And. Ay, he does well enough if he 
+be disposed, and so do I too: he does it with 
+a better grace, but I do it more natural. 
+
+Sir To. [Sings] ‘O, the twelfth day of 
+December,’— 91 
+
+Mar. For the love o’ God, peace! 
+
+
+Enter Matvotio. 
+Mal. My masters, are you mad? or what 
+
+
+are you? Have you no wit, manners, nor 
+honesty, but to gabble like tinkers at this time 
+of night? Do ye make an alehouse of my 
+lady’s house, that ye squeak out your coziers’ 
+catches without any mitigation or remorse of 
+voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, 
+nor time in you? 
+
+Sir To. We did keep time, sir, in our 
+catches. Sneck up! 10} 
+
+Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. 
+My lady bade me tell you, that, though she 
+harbours you as her kinsman, she’s nothing 
+allied to your disorders. If you can separate 
+yourself and your misdemeanours, you are 
+welcome to the house; if not, an it would 
+please you to take leave of her, she is very 
+willing to bid you farewell. 
+
+Sir To. ‘Farewell, dear 
+must needs be gone.’ 
+
+Mar. Nay, good Sir Toby. 
+
+Clo. ‘His eyes do show his days are al- 
+most done.’ 
+
+Mal. Is't even so? 
+
+Sir To. ‘But I will never die.” 
+
+Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie. 
+
+Mal. This is much credit to you. 
+
+Sir To. ‘Shall I bid him go?’ 
+
+Clo. “What an if you do?’ 
+
+Sir To. ‘Shall I bid him go, and spare 
+not?’ 
+
+Cle. *O no, no, no, no, you dare not.’ 121 
+
+Sir To. Out o’ tune, sir: ye lie. Art any 
+more than a steward? Dost thou think, be- 
+cause thou art virtuous, there shall be no more 
+cakes and ale? 
+
+Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall 
+be hot i’ the mouth too. 
+
+Sir To. Thou ’rt i’ the right. 
+your chain with crums. 
+Maria! 
+
+Mal. Mistress Mary, if you prized my 
+lady’s favour at any thing more than con- 
+tempt, you would not give means for this un- 
+civil rule: she shall know of it, by this hand. 
+
+[Exit. 
+
+
+heart, since } 
+
+
+Go, sir, rub 
+
+
+A stoup of wine, 
+
+
+Mar. Go shake your ears. 
+
+Sir And. "Twere as good a deed as to 
+drink when a man’s a-hungry, to challenge 
+him the field, and then to break promise with 
+him and make a fool of him. 
+
+Sir To. Do't, knight: ! Il write thee a 
+challenge; or I'll deliver thy indignation to 
+him by word of mouth. 141 
+
+Mar. Sweet Sr Toby, be patient for to- 
+night: since the youth of the count’s was to- 
+day with my lady, she is much out of quiet. 
+For Monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with 
+him: if I do not gull him into a nayword, and 
+make him a common recreation, do not think 
+
+
+I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed: 
+I know I can do it. 
+
+Sir To. Posses us, possess us; tell us some- 
+thing of him. 150 
+
+Mar. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind 
+of puritan. 
+
+Sir And. O, if I thought that, I ‘Id beat 
+him like a dog! 
+
+Sir To. What, for being a puritan? thy 
+exquisite reason, dear knight? 
+
+Sir And. I have no exqu site reason for 't, 
+but I have reason good enough. 
+
+Mar. The devil a puritan that he is, or 
+any thing constantly, but a time-pleaser; an 
+affectioned ass, that cons state without book 
+and utters it by great swarths: the best per- 
+suaded of himself, so crammed, as he thinks, 
+with excellencies, that it is his grounds of 
+faith that all that look on him love h'm; and 
+on that vice in him will my revenge find no- 
+table cause to work. 
+
+Sir. What wilt thou do? 
+
+Mar. I will drop in his way some obscure 
+epistles of love; wherein, by the colour of h's 
+beard, the shape of his leg, the manner of his 
+gait, the expressure of his eye, forehead, and 
+complexion, he shall find himself most feel- 
+ingly personated. I can write very like 
+my lady your niece: on a forgotten mat- 
+ter we can hardly make distnction of our 
+hands. 
+
+Sir To. Excellent! I smell a device. 
+
+Sir And. I have''t in my nose too. 
+
+Sir To. He shall think, by the letters that 
+thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, 
+and that she’s in love with him. 
+
+
+that colour. 
+
+Sir And. And your horse now would make 
+him an ass. 
+
+Mar. Ass, } doubt not. 
+
+Sir And. O, ‘twill be admirable! 
+
+Mar. Sport royal, | warrant you: I know 
+my physic will work with him. I will plant 
+
+
+you two, and let the fool make a third, where | 
+
+
+he shall find the letter: observe his construc- 
+tion of it. 
+on the event. Farewell. 
+
+Sir- To. Good night, Penthesilea. 
+
+Sir And. Before me, she’s a good wench. 
+
+Sir To. She's a beagle, true-kred, and one 
+that adores me: what o’ that? 
+
+Sir And. I was adored once too. 
+
+Sir To. Let's to bed, knight. Thou hadst 
+need send for more money. 
+
+Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, 
+Sam a foul way out. 201 
+
+Sir To. Send for money, knight: if thou 
+nast her not i’ the end, call me cut. 
+
+
+[ Exit. 
+
+
+For this night, to bed, and dream | 
+
+
+¥ 
+
+
+TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL [Acr Il, Sc. 1¥ 
+
+
+Sir And. lf I do not, 
+take it how you will. 
+
+Sir To. Come, come, I'll go burn some 
+sack; ‘tis too late to go to bed now: come, 
+knight; come, knight. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+hever trust me, 
+
+
+Scene IV. The DuKe’s palace, 
+Enter DuKE, VioLa, Curio, and others. 
+Now, good 
+
+
+Duke. Give me some music. 
+morrow, friends. 
+
+Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, 
+That old and antique song we heard last night: 
+Methought it did relieve my passion much, 
+More than light airs and recollected terms 
+Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times: 
+Come, but one verse. 
+
+Cur. He is not here, so please your lord- 
+ship, that should sing it. 
+
+Duke. Who was it? 
+
+
+Cur. Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool 
+
+
+‘that the lady Olivia's father took much de- 
+
+
+light in. He is about the house. 
+Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the 
+while. [Exti Curio. Music plays. 
+Come hither, boy: if ever thou shalt love, 
+In the sweet pangs of it remember me; 
+For such as I am all true lovers are, 
+Unstaid and skittish in all motions else, 
+Save in the constant image of the creature 
+That is beloved. How dost thou like this 
+tune > 
+Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat 21 
+
+
+Where Love. threned. 
+
+
+Duke. Thou dost speak masterly: 
+
+
+80 || My life upon ’t, Young though thou art, thine 
+Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a hotse: of | 
+Hath stay’d upon some favour that it loves: 
+‘Hath it not, boy? 
+
+
+eye 
+
+
+Vio. A little, by your favour, 
+Duke. What kind of woman is ’t? 
+io. Of your complexion, 
+Duke. She is not worth thee, then. What 
+years, 1 faith? 
+Vio. About your years, my lord. 
+Duke. Too old, by heaven: let still the 
+woman take 30 
+An elder than herself; so wears she to him, 
+So sways she level in her husband’s heart: 
+
+
+‘For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, 
+
+
+Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, 
+More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, 
+han women’s are, 
+Vio. I think it well, my lord. 
+Duke. Then let thy love be younger tham 
+thyself, 
+
+
+Or thy affection cannot hold the bent; 
+
+
+1'or women are as roses, whose fair flower 
+Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour. 
+
+
+353 
+
+
+Vio. And so they are: alas, that they are so; 
+
+
+wy 
+
+
+PPI S54 2 
+
+
+To die, even when they to perfection grow! 
+Re-enter Curio and CLowNn. 
+
+
+Duke. O, fellow, come, the song we had 
+~ last night. 
+Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain; 
+The spinsters and the knitters in the sun 
+And the free maids that weave their thread 
+with bones 
+Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth, 
+And dallies with the innocence of love, 
+Like the old age. 
+Clo. Are you ready, sir? 
+Duke. Ay; prithee, sing. 
+
+
+, Sone. 
+
+
+50 
+[Music. 
+
+
+Clo. Come away, come away, death, 
+And in sad cypress let me be laid; 
+Fly away, fly away, breath; 
+I am slain by a fair cruel maid. 
+My shroud of white, stuck all with 
+yew, 
+O, prepare it! 
+My part of death, no one so true 
+Did share it. 
+
+
+Noi a flower, not a flower sweet, 60 
+On my black coffin let there be 
+strown; 
+Not a friend, not a friend greet 
+My poor corpse, where my bone 
+shall be thrown: 
+A thousand thousand sighs to save, 
+Lay me, O, where 
+Sad true lover never find my grave, 
+To weep there! 
+
+
+Duke. There’s for thy pains. 
+Clo. No pains, sir; I take pleaure in sing- 
+ing, sir. 
+Duke. 17il pay thy pleasure then. 
+Clo. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, 
+one time or another. 
+Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee. 
+Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee; 
+and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable 
+taffeta, for thy mind is a very opal. I would 
+have men of such constancy put to sea, that 
+their business might be every thing and their 
+intent every where; for that’s it that always 
+makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell. 81 
+[Exit. 
+Duke. Let all the rest give place. 
+[Curio and Attendants retire. 
+Once more, Cesario, 
+Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty: 
+Tell her, my love, more noble than the world, 
+Prizes not. quantity of dirty lands: 
+The parts that fortune hath bestow d upon her, 
+Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune: 
+
+
+But ‘tis that miracle and queen of gems 
+That nature pranks her in attracts my soul. 
+
+Vio. But if she cannot love you, sir? 90 
+
+Duke. 1 cannot be so answer'd. 
+
+Vio. Sooth, but you must. 
+Say that some lady, as perhaps there is, 
+Hath for your love as great a pang of heart 
+Ass you have for Olivia: you cannot love her; 
+You tell her so; must she not then be an- 
+
+swer d? 
+
+Duke. There is no woman’s sides 
+Can bide the beating of so strong a passion 
+As love doth give my heart; no woman’s heart 
+So big, to hold so much; they lack retention. 
+Alas, their love may be call’d appetite, 100 
+No motion of the liver, but the palate, 
+
+That suffer surfeit, cloyment and revolt; 
+But mine is all as hungry as the sea, 
+And can digest as much: make no compare 
+Between that love a woman can bear me 
+And that I owe Ohivia. 
+
+Vio. Ay, but I know— 
+
+Duke. What dost thou know? 
+
+Vio. Too well what love women to men 
+
+may owe: 
+In faith, they are as true of heart as we. 
+My father had a daughter loved a man, 
+As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, 
+I should your lordship. 
+Duke. And what's her history? 
+Vio. A blank, my lord. She never told 
+her love, 
+But let concealment, like a worm i’ the bud, 
+Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in 
+thought, 
+And with a green and yellow melancholy 
+She sat like patience on a monument, 
+Sm ling at grief. Was not this love indeed? 
+
+
+110 
+
+
+0 | We men may say more, swear more: but in- 
+
+
+deed 
+Our shows are more than will; for still we 
+prove 120 
+
+
+Much in our vows, but little in our love. 
+
+Duke, But died thy sister of her love, my 
+
+boy > 
+
+Vio. I am all the daughters of my fa- 
+
+ther’s house, 
+And all the brothers too: and yet I know not. 
+Sir, shall I to this lady? 
+
+Duke. Ay, that’s the theme. 
+To her in haste; give her this jewel; say, 
+My love can give no place, bide no denay. 
+
+[Exeuni. 
+
+
+Scene V. Otivia’s garden. 
+
+
+Enter Sir Topsy, Sir ANDREW, and FABIAN. 
+
+
+Sir To. Come thy ways, Signor Fabian. 
+Fab. Nay, I'll come: if I lose a scruple 
+
+
+TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL [Act II, Sc. V 
+
+
+354 
+of this sport, let me be boiled to death with 
+melancholy. 
+
+Sir To. Wouldst thou not be glad to 
+
+
+have the niggardly rascally sheep-biter come 
+by some notable shame? 
+
+Fab. 1 would exult, man: you know, he 
+brought me out o’ favour with my lady about 
+a bear-baiting here. 
+
+Sir To. To anger him we'll have the, bear 
+again; and we will fool him black and blue: 
+shall we not, Sir Andrew? 
+
+Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our 
+lives. 
+
+
+Sir To. 
+
+
+Here comes the little villain. 
+Enter Maria, 
+
+
+How now, my metal of India! 
+
+Mar. Get ye all three into the box-tree: 
+Malvolio's coming down this walk: he has 
+been yonder i’ the sun practising behaviour 
+to his own shadow this half hour: observe 
+him, for the love of mockery; for I know 
+this letter will make a contemplative idiot 
+of him. Close, in the name of jesting! Lie 
+thou there [throws down a letter]; for here 
+comes the trout that must be caught with 
+tickling. [Exit 
+
+
+Enter MAtvouio. 
+
+
+Mal. ‘Tis but fortune; all is fortune. 
+Maria once told me she did affect me: and | 
+have heard herself come thus near, that, should 
+she fancy, it should be one of my complexion. 
+Besides, she uses me with a more exalted 
+respect than any one else that follows her. 
+What should I think on‘t? 
+
+Sir To. Here’s an overweening rogue! 
+
+Fab. O, peace! Contemplation makes a 
+rare turkey-cock of him: how he jets under 
+his advanced plumes! 
+
+Sir And. ‘Slight, I could so beat the rogue! 
+
+Sir To. Peace, I say. 
+
+Mal. To be Count Malvolio! 
+
+Sir To. Ah, rogue! 
+
+Sir And. Pistol him, pistol him. 
+
+Sir To. Peace, peace! 
+
+Mal. ‘There is example for ’t; the lady of 
+the Strachy married the yeoman of the ward- 
+robe. 
+
+Sir And. Fie on him, Jezebe!! 
+
+Fab. O, peace! now he’s deeply in: look 
+how imagination blows him. 
+
+Mal. Having been three months married to 
+her, sitt'ng in my state,— 50 
+
+Sir To. O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in 
+the eye! 
+
+Mal. Calling my officers about me, in my 
+branched velvet gown; having come from a 
+day-bed, where I have left Olivia sleeping. — 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+Sir To. Fire and brimstone! 
+Fab. O, peace, peace! 
+Mal. And then to have the humour of 
+
+
+state; and after a demure travel! of regard, 
+
+
+telling them 1 know my place as I would © 
+
+
+they should do theirs, to ask for my kinsman 
+Toby,— 
+
+Sir To. Bolts and shackles! 
+
+Fab. O peace, peace, peace! now, now. 
+
+Mal. Seven of my people, with an obedi- 
+ent start, make out for him: I frown the 
+while; and perchance wind up my watch, or 
+play with my—some rich jewel. Toby ap- 
+proaches; courtesies there to me,— 
+
+Sir To. Shall this fellow live? 
+
+Fab. Though our silence be drawn from 
+us with cars, yet peace. 7\ 
+
+Mal. | extend my hand to him _ thus, 
+quenching my familiar smile with an austere 
+regard of control,— 
+
+Sir To. And does not Toby take you a 
+blow o’ the lips then? 
+
+Mal. Saying, ‘Cousin Toby, my fortunes 
+having cast me on your niece give me this 
+prerogative of speech, — 
+
+Sir To. What, what? 80 
+
+Mal. ‘You must amend your drunkenness.’ 
+
+Sir To. Out, scab! 
+
+Fab. Nay, patience, or we break the sin- 
+ews of our plot. 
+
+Mal. ‘Besides, you waste the treasure of 
+your time with a foolish knight,— 
+
+Sir And. That's me, I warrant you. 
+
+Mal. ‘One Sir Andrew,’-— 
+
+Sir And. I knew "twas 1; for many do 
+call me fool. 90 
+Mal, What employment have we here? 
+
+[Taking up the letter. 
+
+Fab. Now is the woodcock near the gin. 
+
+Sir To. O, peace! and the spirit of hu- 
+mours intimate reading aloud to him! 
+
+Mal. By my life, this is my lady’s hand: 
+these be her very C’s, her U’s and her T’s; 
+and thus makes she her great P’s. It is, in 
+contempt of question, her hand. 
+
+Sir And. Her C’s, her U's and her T's: 
+why that? 100 
+
+Mal. [Reads] “To the unknown beloved, 
+this, and my good wishes:'—her very phrases! 
+By your leave, wax. Soft! and the impres- 
+sure her Lucrece, with which she uses to seal: 
+‘tis my lady. To whom should th's be? 
+
+Fab. This wins him, liver and all. 
+
+Mal. [Reads] 
+
+Jove knows I love: 
+But who? 
+Lips, do not move; , 
+No man must know. 110 
+‘No man must know.’ What follows? the 
+
+
+os 
+
+
+OS ete te | Die olen 
+
+
++ 
+
+
+Acr Il, Sc. V} ~TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL 355 
+
+
+_ numbers altered! ‘No man must know:’ if 
+this should be thee, Malvolio? 
+
+Sir To. Marry, hang thee, brock! 
+
+Mal. [Reads] 
+
+I may command where I adore: 
+
+But silence, like a Lucrece knife, 
+
+With bloodless stroke my heart deth gore: 
+
+M, O, A, I, doth sway my life. 
+
+Fab. A fustian riddle! 
+
+Sir To. Excellent wench, say I. 120 
+
+Mal. ‘M, O, A, 1, doth sway my life.’ 
+Nay, but first, let me see, let me see, lef me 
+see. 
+
+Fab. What dish o’ poison has she dressed 
+him! 
+
+Sir To, And with what wing the staniel 
+checks at it! 
+
+Mal. ‘| may command where I adore.’ 
+Why, she may command me: I serve her; she 
+is my lady. Why, this is evident to any 
+formal capacity; there 1: no obstruction in 
+this: and the end,—what should that alpha- 
+betical position portend? If I could make 
+that resemble something in me.—Softly! 
+M, O, A, L— 
+
+Sir To. O, ay, make up that: he is now 
+at a cold scent. 
+
+Fab. Sowter will cry upon't for all this, 
+though it be as rank as a fox. 
+
+Mal. M,—RMalvolio; M,—why, that be- 
+gins my name. 
+
+Fab. Did not I say he would work it out? 
+the cur is excellent at faults. ~- 140 
+
+Mal. M,—but then there is no consonancy 
+in the sequel; that suffers under probation: 
+A should follow, but © does. 
+
+Fab. And O shall end, I hope. 
+
+Sir To. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make 
+him cry O! 
+
+Mal, And then I comes behind. 
+
+Fab. Ay, an you had any eye behind you, 
+you might see more detraction at your heels 
+than fortunes before you. 150 
+
+Mal. M, O, A, I; this simulation is not as 
+the former: and yet, to crush this a little, it 
+would bow to me, for every one of these let- 
+ters are in my name. Soft! here follows 
+prose. 
+
+[Reads] ‘If this fall into thy hand, revolve. 
+In my stars I am above thee; but be not 
+afraid of greatness: some are born great, 
+some achieve greatness and some have great- 
+nes thrust upon ‘em. Thy Fates open their 
+hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them; 
+and, to inure thyself to what thou art like to 
+be, cast thy humble slough and appear fresh. 
+Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with serv- 
+ants; let thy tongue tang arguments of state; 
+put thyself into the trick of singularity: she 
+
+
+thus advises thee that sighs for thee. Re- 
+member who commended thy yellow stockings, 
+and wished to see thee ever cross-gartered: 
+I say, remember. Go to, thou art made, if 
+thou desirest to be so; if not, let me see thee 
+a steward still, the fellow of servants, and not 
+worthy to touch Fortune’s fingers, Farewell. 
+She that would alter service with thee. 
+Tue FortTuNATE-UNHaPPY.’ 
+
+Daylight and champain discovers not more: 
+this is open. I will be proud, I will read poli- 
+tic authors, | will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash 
+off gross acquaintance, I will be point-devise 
+the very man. I do not now fool myself, to 
+let imagination jade me; for every reason ex- 
+cites to this, that my lady loves me. She did 
+commend my yellow stockings of iate, she 
+did praise my leg being cross-gartered; and 
+in this she manifests herself to my love, and 
+with a kind of injunction drives me to these 
+habits of her liking. J thank my stars | am 
+happy. I will be strange, stout, in yellow 
+stockings, and cross-gartered, even with the 
+swiftness of putting on. Jove and my stars 
+be praised! Here is yet a postscript. 
+[Reads] ‘Thou canst not choose but know 
+who I am. If thou entertainest my love, Jet 
+it appear in thy smiling; thy smiles become 
+thee well; therefore in my presence still smile, 
+dear my sweet, | prithee.’ 
+
+Jove, I thank thee: I will smile; I will de 
+everything that thou wilt have me. [Exii. 
+
+Fab. { will not give my part of this sport 
+for a pension of thousands to be paid from 
+the Sophy. 
+
+Sir To. 1 could marry this wench for this 
+device. 2006 
+
+Sir And. So could I too. 
+
+Sir To. And ask no other dowry with her 
+but such another jest. 
+
+Sir And. Nor I neither. 
+
+Fab. Here comes my noble gull-catcher. 
+
+
+Re-enter Maria. 
+
+
+Sir To. Wilt thou set thy foot o’ my neck? 
+
+Sir And. Or o’ mine either? 
+
+Sir To. Shall I play my freedom at tray- 
+trip, and become thy bond-slave ? 
+
+Sir And. I’ faith, or I either? Zi0 
+
+Sir To. Why, thou hast put him in such a 
+dream, that when the image of it leaves him 
+he must run mad. 
+
+Mar. Nay, but say true; does it work 
+upon h'm? 
+
+Sir To. Like aqua-vite with a midwife. 
+
+Mar. If you will then see the fruits of the 
+sport, mark his first approach before my lady: 
+he will come to her in yellow stockings, and 
+‘tis a colour she abhors, and cross-gartered, a 
+
+
+356 
+
+
+fashion she detesis; and he will smile upon 
+her, which will now be so unsuitable to her 
+d.sposition, bemg addicted to a melancholy 
+as she is, that tt cannot but turn him into a 
+notable contempt. If you will see it, follow 
+me. / 
+Sir To. To the gates of Tartar, thou 
+most excellent devil of wit! 
+
+
+Sir And. I'll make one too. [Exeunt. 
+ACT Hl. 
+Scene I. Ozrvia’s garden. 
+
+
+Eater Vioira, and Crown with a tabor. 
+
+
+Vio. Save thee, friend, and thy music: 
+dost thou live by thy tabor? 
+
+Clo. No, sir, I live by the church. 
+
+Vio. Art thow a churchman? 
+
+Clo. No such matter, sir: I do live by the 
+church; for I do live at my house, and my 
+house doth stand by the church, 
+
+Vio. So thou mayst say, the king lies by 
+a beggar, if a beggar dwell near him; or, 
+the church stands by thy tabor, if thy tabor 
+stand by the church. 1] 
+
+Clo. You have said, sir. To see this age! 
+A sentence is but a cheveril glove to a good 
+wit: how quickly the wrong side may be 
+turned outward! 
+
+Vio. Nay, that’s certain; they that dally 
+nicely with words may quickly make them 
+\/anton. 
+
+Clo. I would, therefore, my sister had had 
+no name, sir. 20 
+
+Vio. Why, man? 
+
+Clo, Why, sir, her name’s a word; and to 
+dally with that word might make my sister 
+wanton. But indeed words are very rascals 
+since bonds disgraced them. 
+
+Vio. Thy reason, man? 
+
+Clo. Troth, sir, | can yield you none with- 
+out words; and words are grown so false, 
+I am loath to’ prove reason with them. 
+
+Vio. 1 warrant thou art a merry fellow 
+and carest for nothing. 31 
+
+Clo, Not so, sir, 1 do care for something; 
+but in my conscience, sir, [ do not care for 
+you: if that be to care for nothing, sir, I 
+would it would make you invisible. 
+
+Vio. Art not thou the Lady Olivia's fool? 
+
+Clo, No, indeed, sir; the Lady Olivia has 
+no folly: she will keep no fool, sir, till she 
+be marfied; and fools are as like husbands as 
+pilchards are to herrings; the husband’s the 
+bigger: 1 am indeed not her fool, but her 
+corrupter of words. 
+
+Vio. I saw thee late at the Count Orsino’s, 
+
+Clo, Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb 
+like the sun, it shines every where. J would 
+
+
+*. 
+
+
+be sorry, sir, but the fool should be as oft 
+
+
+with your master as with my mistress: I 
+
+
+think I saw your wisdom there. 
+
+Vio. Nay, an thou pass upon me, IH] na 
+more with thee. Hold, there’s expenses for 
+thee. 
+
+Clo. Now Jove, in his next commodity of 
+hair, send thee a beard! 51 
+
+Vio. By my troth, Ill tell thee, I am al- 
+most sick for one; [Aside] though I would 
+not have it grow on my chin. Is thy lady 
+within > 
+
+Clo. Would not a pair of these have bred, 
+sir? 
+
+Vic. Yes, being kept together and put to 
+use. 
+
+Clo. I would play Lord Pandarus of 
+Phrygia, sir, to bring a Cressida to this 
+Troilus. 59 
+
+Vio. understand you, sir; "tis well begged. 
+
+Clo. The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, 
+begging but a beggar: Cressida was a beggar. 
+My lady is within, sir. I will construe to 
+them whence you come; who you are and 
+what you would are out of my welkin, I might 
+say ‘element,’ but the word is over-worn, 
+
+(Exit. 
+Vio. This fellow is wise enough to play 
+the fool; 
+And to do that well craves a kind of wit: 
+He must observe their mood on whom he jests, 
+The quality of persons, and the time, 70 
+
+
+And, like the haggard, check at every feather — 
+
+
+That comes before his eye. This is a practice 
+As full of labour as a wise man’s art: 
+
+For folly that he wisely shows is fit; 
+
+But wise men, folly-fall'n, quite taint their wit, 
+
+
+Enter Sir Tosy and Sik ANpREW. 
+Sir To. Save you, gentleman. 
+
+
+Vio. And you, sir. 
+
+Sir And, Dieu vous garde, monsieur. 
+
+Vio. Et vous aussi; votre serviteur. 
+
+Sir And. 1 hope, sir, you are; and I am 
+yours, 81 
+
+Sir To. Will you encounter the house? my 
+miece is desirous you should enter, if your 
+trade be to her. 
+
+Vio. I am bound to your niece, sir; I 
+mean, she is the list of my voyage. 
+
+Sir To. Taste your legs, sir; put them to 
+motion. 
+
+Vio. My legs do better understand me, sir, 
+than I understand what you mean by bidding 
+me taste my legs. 9] 
+
+Sir To. I mean, to go, sir, to enter. 
+
+Vio. 1 will answer you with gait and 
+entrance. But we are prevented, 
+
+
+Enter Oxtvia and Maria, 
+
+
+ba | 
+
+
+TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL [Acr III, Sc. I 
+
+
+ot 
+
+
+$c. I] TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL 
+
+
+$7 
+
+
+Most excellent accomplished lady, the heav- |O world, Hew apt thé poor aré to bé proud! 
+
+
+ens rain odours on you! 
+Sir And. That youth’s a rare courtier: 
+
+
+‘Rain odours;’ well. 
+
+
+Vio. My matter hath no voice, lady, but 
+to your own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear. 
+
+Sir And. ‘Odours,’ ‘pregnant’ and ‘vouch- 
+safed:’ I "ll get ’em all three all ready. 
+
+Oli, Let the garden door be shut, and 
+leave me to my hearing. [Exeunt Sir Toby, 
+Sir Andrew, and Maria.} Give me your 
+hand, sir. 
+
+Vio. My duty, madam, and most humble 
+
+service. 
+Oli, What is your name? 
+Vio, Cesario is your servant's name, fair 
+
+
+_ princess. 
+Oli. My servant, sir! ‘Twas never merr 
+vay y 
+world 109 
+
+
+Since lowly feigning was call’d compliment: 
+ou re servant to the Count Orsino, youth. 
+Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs 
+
+be yours: 
+
+Your servant's servant is your servant, madam. 
+
+
+Oli. For him, | think not on him: for his 
+
+
+thoughts, 
+ould they were blanks, rather than fill'd 
+_ with mel 
+
+io. Madam, I come to whet your gentle 
+thoughts 
+
+
+On his behalf. 
+Oli. O, by your leave, I pray you, 
+I bade you never speak aga of him: 
+But, would you undertake another suit, 
+I had rather hear you to solicit that 
+han music from the spheres. 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+io. Dear lady,— 
+Oli. Give me leave, béseech you. I did 
+send, 
+
+
+‘After the last enchantment you did here, 
+
+
+A ring’ in chasé of yow: so did I abuse 
+
+Myself, my servant and, I fear me, .you: 
+
+Undér your hard consitruct'on must I sit, 
+
+To force that on you, in a shameful cunning, 
+
+Which you knew none of yours: what might 
+you think? 
+
+
+__ Have you not set mine honour at the stake 129 
+
+
+And’ baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts 
+That tyrannous heart can think? To one of 
+your recéiving 
+Enough is shown: a cypress, nét a bosom, 
+Hidéth my heart. So, let me hear you speak. 
+Vio, IJ pity -you. 
+Ohi. That’s a degree to love. 
+Vio. No, not a grize; for "tis a vulgar 
+a proof, 
+at ver 
+Olt. W 
+again. 
+
+
+oft we pity enemies. 
+hy, then, methinks ‘tis time to smile 
+
+
+If one should be a prey, how much the better 
+To fall before the lion than the wolf! 140 
+. [Clock strikes. 
+The clock upbraids me with the waste of time, 
+Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you: 
+And yet, when wit and youth is come to 
+harvest, 
+Your wife is like to reap a proper man: 
+There lies your way, due west. 
+Vio. Then westward-ho! Gracé and good 
+disposition 
+Attend your ladyship! 
+You ’ll nothing, madam, to my lord by me? 
+Oli. Stay: 
+I prithee, tell me what thou think’st of me. 
+Vio. That you do think you are not what 
+you are. 
+Oli. If I think so, I think the same of you, 
+Vio. Then think you right: I am not what 
+T am. 
+Oli. I would you were as I would have 
+you be! 
+Vio. Would it be better, madam, than I am? 
+I wish it might, for now I am your fool. 
+Olt. O, what a deal of scorn looks beau- 
+tiful , 
+In thé contempt and angér of his lip! 
+A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon 
+Than love that would seem hid: love's night 
+is noon. 160 
+Cesario, by the’ roses of the spring, 
+By maidhood, honour, truth and every thing, 
+I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride, 
+Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide. 
+Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, 
+For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause; 
+But rather reason thus with reason fetter, 
+Lové sought is good, but given unsought is 
+better. 
+Vio. By innocence I swear, and by my 
+youth, : 
+I have one heart, one bosom and one truth, 170 
+And that no woman has; no never none 
+Shall mistress be of it, save I alone. 
+And so adieu, good madam: never more 
+Will I my master’s tears to you deplore. 
+Oli. Yet come again; for thou perhaps 
+mayst move 
+That heart; which now abhors, to like his 
+love. [Exeuni, 
+
+
+Scene [i. Ottvra’s house. 
+
+
+Enter Six Topsy, Sir ANpREw, and Fastan 
+Sir And. No, faith, I'll not stay a jot 
+longer. : \ 
+Sir To. Thy reason, dear venom, give thy 
+reason, 
+
+
+358 
+
+
+TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL [Act III, Sc. Il 
+
+
+Fab. You must needs yield your reason, 
+Sir Andrew. 
+
+Sir And. Marry, I saw your niece do more 
+favours to the count’s serving-man than ever 
+she bestowed upon me; I saw 't i’ the orchard. 
+
+Sir To. Did she see thee the while, old 
+boy? tell me that. 10 
+
+Sir And. As plain as I see you now. 
+
+Fab. This was a great argument of love in 
+her toward you. 
+
+Sir And. ‘Slight, will you make an ass o’ 
+me? 
+
+Fab. 1 will prove it legitimate, sir, upon 
+the oaths of judgement and reason. 
+
+Sir To. And they have been grand-jury- 
+men since before Noah was a sailor. 
+
+Fab. She did show favour to the youth in 
+your sight only to exasperate you, to awake 
+your dormouse valour, to put fire in your heart, 
+and brimstone in your liver. You should then 
+have accosted her; and with some excellent 
+jests, fire-new from the mint, you should have 
+banged the youth into dumbness. This was 
+looked for at your hand, and this was balked: 
+the double gilt of this opportunity you let time 
+wash off, and you are now sailed into the 
+north of my lady’s opinion; where you will 
+hang like an icicle on a Dutchman’s beard, 
+unless you do redeem it by some laudable 
+attempt either of valour or policy. 31 
+
+Sir And. An't be any way, it must be 
+with valour; for policy I hate: I had as lief 
+be a Brownist as a politician. 
+
+Sir To. Why, then, build me thy fortunes 
+upon the basis of valour. Challenge me the 
+count’s youth to fight with him; hurt him in 
+eleven places: my niece shall take note of 
+it; and assure thyself, there is no love-broker 
+in the world can more prevail in man’s com- 
+mendation with woman than report of valour. 
+
+Fab, There ‘s no way but this, Sir Andrew. 
+
+Sir And. Will either of you bear me a 
+challenge to him? 
+
+Sir To. Go, write it in a martial hand; be 
+curst and brief; it *s no matter how witty, so 
+it be eloquent and full of invention: taunt him 
+with the license of ink: if thou thou’st him 
+some thrice, it shall not be amiss; and as 
+many lies as will lie in thy sheet of paper, 
+although the sheet were big enough for the 
+bed of Ware in England, set em down: go, 
+about it. Let there be gall enough in thy 
+ink, though thou write Wii a goose-pen, no 
+matter: about it. 
+
+Sir And. Where shall I find you> 
+
+Sir To. We'll call thee at the cubiculo: go. 
+
+[Exit Sir Andrew. 
+
+Fab, This is a dear manakin to you, Sir 
+
+
+Toby. 
+
+
+Sir To. I have been dear to him, lad, 
+some two thousand strong, or so. 
+
+Fab. We shall have a rare letter from 
+him: but you ‘ll not deliver ’t? 6l 
+
+Sir To. Never trust me, then; and by all 
+means stir on the youth to an answer. I think 
+oxen and wainropes cannot hale them together. 
+For Andrew, if he were opened, and you find 
+so much blood in his liver as will clog the 
+foot of a flea, I'll eat the rest of the anatomy. 
+
+Fab. And his opposite, the youth, bears in 
+his visage no great presage of cruelty. 
+
+
+Enter Marta. 
+
+
+Sir To. Look, where the youngest wren of 
+nine comes. 
+
+Mar. If you desire the spleen, and will 
+laugh yourselves into stitches, follow me. 
+Yond guli Malvolio is turned heathen, a very 
+renegado; for there is no Christian, that 
+means to be saved by believing rightly, can 
+ever believe such impossible passages of gross- 
+
+
+ness. He's in yellow stockings. 
+Sir To. And cross-gartered ? 79 
+Mar. Most villanously; like a pedant 
+that keeps a school i’ the church. I have 
+
+
+dogged him, like his murderer. He does 
+obey every point of the letter that I dropped 
+to betray him: he does smile his face into 
+more lines than is in the new map with the 
+augmentation of the Indies: you have not 
+seen such a thing as ‘tis. I can hardly for- 
+bear hurling things at him. I know my lady 
+will strike hm: if she do, he'll smile and 
+
+take't for a great favour. 
+Sir To. Come, bring us, bring us where he is. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. A street. 
+Enter SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO. 
+
+
+‘Seb. I would not by my will have trou- 
+bled you; 
+But, since. you make your pleasure of your 
+pains, 
+I will no further chide you. 
+Ant. I could not stay behind you: my de- 
+sire, 
+More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth; 
+And not all love to see you, though so much 
+As might have drawn one to a longer voyage, 
+But jealousy what m‘ght befall your travel, 
+Being skilless in these parts; which to a 
+stranger, 
+Unguided and unfriended, often prove 10 
+Rough and unhospitable: my willing love, 
+The rather by these arguments of fear, 
+Set forth in your pursuit. 
+Seb. My kind Antonio, 
+
+
+I can no other answer make but thanks, 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+Acr Ill, Sc. LV]. TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL 
+
+
++ And thanks; and ever . . . oft good turns 
+Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay: 
+But, were my worth as is my conscience firm, 
+You should find better dealing. What's to do? 
+Shall we go see the reliques of this town?* 
+Ant. To-morrow, sir: best first go see your 
+lodging. 20 
+Seb. I am not weary, and ‘tis long to night: 
+1 pray you, let us satisfy our eyes 
+With the inemorials and the things of fame 
+That do renown this city. 
+Ant. Would you ‘Id pardon me; 
+I do not without danger walk these streets: 
+Once, in a sea-fight, ‘gainst the count his 
+galleys 
+I did some service; of such note indeed, 
+That were I ta’en here it would scarce be 
+
+
+answer d, 
+
+Seb. Belike you slew great number of his 
+people. 
+
+Ant. The offence is not of such a bloody 
+nature; 30 
+
+
+Albeit the quality of the time and quarrel 
+Might well have given us bloody argument. 
+It might have since been answer’d in repaying 
+What we took from them; which, for traffic’s 
+sake, 
+Most of our city did: only myself stood out; 
+For which, if I be lapsed in this place, 
+I shall pay dear. 
+Seb. Do not then walk too open. 
+Ant. It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here's 
+my purse. 
+In the south suburbs at the Elephant, 
+Is best to lodge: I will bespeak our diet, 40 
+Whiles you beguile the time and feed your 
+knowledge 
+With viewing of the town: there shall you 
+have me. 
+Seb. Why I your purse? 
+Ant. Haply your eye shall light upon 
+some toy 
+You have desire to purchase; and your store, 
+I think, is not for idle markets, sir. 
+Seb. I ll be your purse-bearer and leave you 
+For an hour. 
+Ant. To the Elephant. 
+
+
+Seb, I do remember. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Otivia’s garden. 
+Enter Outvia and Maria. 
+
+
+Oli. I have sent after him: he says he'll 
+come; 
+
+How'shall I feast him? what bestow of him? 
+
+For youth is bought more oft than begg’d or 
+borrow’d. 
+
+I speak too loud. 
+
+Where is Malvolio? he is sad and civil, 
+
+
+And suits well for a servant with my fortunes: 
+
+
+859.- 
+
+
+Where is Malvolio? 
+
+Mar. He’s coming, madam; but in very 
+strange manner. He is, sure, possessed, 
+madam. 
+
+
+Oli. Why, what's the matter? does he 
+rave? 
+
+Mar. No, madam, he does nothing but 
+smile: your ladyship were best to have some 
+guard about you, if he come; for, sure, the 
+man is tainted in’s wits. 
+
+Oli. Go call him hither. [Exit Maria] J 
+
+am as mad as he, 
+If sad and merry madness equal be. 
+
+
+Re-enter Maria, with Matvouio. 
+
+
+How now, Malvolio! 
+
+
+Mal. Sweet lady, ho, ho. 
+
+
+Oli. Smilest thou? 
+I sent for thee upon a sad occasion. 20 
+Mal. Sad, lady! I could be sad: this 
+
+
+does make some obstruction in the blood, this 
+cross-gartering; but what of that? if it please 
+the eye of one, it is with me as the very true 
+sonnet is, “Please one, and please all.’ 
+
+Oli. Why, how dost thou, man? what is 
+the matter with thee? 
+
+Mal. Not black in my mind, though yel- 
+low in my legs. It did come to his hands, 
+and commands shall be executed: I think we 
+do know the sweet Roman hand. 31 
+
+Oli. Walt thou go to bed, Malvolio? 
+
+Mal. Yo bed! ay, sweet-heart, and I ‘Il 
+come to thee. 
+
+Oli. God comfort thee! Why dost thou 
+smile so and kiss thy hand so oft? 
+
+Mar. How do you, Malvolio? 
+
+Mal. At your request! yes; nightingales 
+answer daws. 
+
+Mar. Why appear you with this ridicu- 
+lous boldness before my lady? 4\ 
+
+Mal. ‘Be not afraid of greatness:’ ‘twas 
+well writ. 
+
+Oli. What meanest thou by that, Malvolio? 
+
+Mal, ‘Some are born great,'— 
+
+Oli. Ha! 
+
+Mal. ‘Some achieve greatness,’-— 
+
+Oli. What sayest thou? 
+
+Mal. ‘And some have greatness thrust upom 
+them.’ 50 
+
+Oli. Heaven restore thee! 
+
+Mal. ‘Remember who commended thy yel- 
+low stockings,’-— 
+
+Oli. Thy yellow stockings! 
+
+Mal. ‘And wished to see 
+gartered.” 
+
+Oli. Cross-gartered! 
+
+Mal, ‘Go to, thou art. made, if thou de- 
+sirest to be so;’— 
+
+Oli. Am I made? 50 
+
+
+thee cross- 
+
+
+360 
+
+
+TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, WHAT YOU WILL [Act Ill, Se. IV 
+
+
+Mal. ‘If not, let me see thee a servant still.’ 
+Oli. Why, this is very midsummer mad- 
+
+
+ness. 
+Enter Servant. 
+
+
+Ser. Madam, the young gentleman of the 
+Count Orsino’s is returned: | could hardly 
+entreat him back: he attends your ladyship’s 
+pleasure. 
+
+Oli. I'll come to him. [Exit Servant.] 
+Good Maria, let this fellow be looked to. 
+Where ’s my cousin Toby? Let some of my 
+people have a special care of hm: I would 
+not have him miscarry for the half of my 
+
+
+dowry. 
+[Exeunt Olivia and Maria. 
+Mal. O, ho! do you come near me now? 
+no worse man than Sir Toby to look to me! 
+This concurs directly with the letter: she sends 
+him on’ purpose, that | may appear stubborn 
+to him; for she iucites me to that in the 
+letter, ‘Cast thy humble slough,’ says she: 
+‘be opposite with a kinsman, surly with serv- 
+ants; let thy tongue tang with arguments of 
+state; put thyself into the trick of singularity ;’ 
+and consequently sets down the manner how; 
+as, a sad face, a reverend carriage, a slow 
+tongue, in the habit of some sir of note, and 
+so forth. I have limed her; but it is Jove’s 
+doing, and Jove make me thankful! And 
+when she went away now, ‘Let this fellow 
+be looked to:’ fellow! not Malvolio, nor after 
+my degree, but fellow. Why, every thing 
+adheres together, that no dram of a scruple, 
+no scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no in- 
+credulous or unsafe circumstance—What can 
+be said? Nothing that can be can come 
+between me and the full prospect of my 
+hopes. Well, Jove, not I, is the doer of this, 
+and he is to be thanked. 
+
+
+Re-enter Maria, with Sir Toby and Fasran. 
+
+
+Sir To. Which way is he, in the name of 
+sanctity? If all the devils of hell be drawn 
+in little, and Legion himself possessed h'm, yet 
+I'll speak to him. 
+
+Fab. Here he is, here he is. How is’t 
+with you, sir? how is’t with you, man? 
+
+Mal. Go off; 1 discard you: let me enjoy 
+my private: go off. 100 
+
+Mar. Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks 
+within him! did not Ff tell you? Sir Toby, 
+my lady prays you to have a care of him. 
+
+Mal. Ah, ha! does she so> 
+
+Sir To. Go to, go to; péace, peace; ‘we 
+must deal gently with him: let me alone. How 
+do you, Malvolio? how ist with you> What, 
+man! defy the devil: consider, he ’s an enemy 
+to mankind. 
+
+Mal. Do you know what you say? 110 
+
+
+Mar. La you, an you speak ill of the devil, 
+how he takes it at heart! 
+not bewitched! 
+
+Fab. Carry his water to the wise woman. 
+
+Mar. Marry, and it shall be done to-mor- 
+row morning, if I live. My lady would not 
+lose him for more than I'll say. 
+
+Mal. How now, mistress! 
+
+Mar. O Lord! 119 
+
+Sir To. Prithee, hold thy peace; this is 
+not the way: do you not sée you move him? 
+let me alone with him. 
+
+Fab. No way but 
+
+
+gentleness;  geritly, 
+
+
+gently: the fiend is rough, and will not be 
+
+
+roughly used. 
+
+Sir To. Why, how now, my bawcock! 
+how dost thou, chuck? 
+
+Mal. Sir! 
+
+Sir To. Ay, Biddy, come with me. What, 
+man! ‘tis not for gravity to play at cherry- 
+pit with Satan: bang him, foul collier! 130 
+
+Mar. Get him to say his prayers, good 
+Sir Toby, get him to pray. » 
+
+Mal. My prayers, minx! 
+
+Mar. No, | warrant you, he will not hear 
+of godliness. 
+
+
+Pray God, he be’ 
+
+
+«4 
+
+
+Mal. Go, hang yourselves all! you are ~ 
+
+
+idle shallow things: I am not of your ele- 
+ment: you shall know more hereafter. [Exit. 
+
+Sir To. Is’t possible> 139 
+
+Fab. If this were played upon a stage now, 
+I could condemn it as an improbable fiction. 
+
+Sir To. His very genius hath taken the in- 
+fection of the dev ce, man. 
+
+Mar. Nay, pursue him now, lest the de- 
+vice take air and taint. 
+
+Fab. Why, we shall make him mad in- 
+deed. 
+
+Mar. The house will be the quieter. 
+
+Sir To. Come, we'll have him im a dark 
+room and bound. My niece is already in the 
+belief that he’s mad: we may carry it thus, 
+
+
+for our pleasure and his penance, till our 
+
+
+very pastme, tired out of breath, prompt us 
+to have mercy on him: at which time we will 
+bring the device to the bar and crown thee 
+for a finder of madmen. But see, but see. 
+
+
+Enter Sir ANDREW. 
+
+
+Fab. More matter for a May morning. 
+
+Sir And. Here's the challenge, read it: I 
+warrant there’s vinegar and pepper in’t. 
+
+Fab. Is’t so saucy > 159 
+
+Sir And. Ay, is’t, I warrant him: do but 
+read. 
+
+Sir To. Give me. 
+soever thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow.” 
+
+Fab. Good, and valiant. 
+
+Sir To. [Reads] ‘Wonder not, nor ad- 
+
+
+[Reads] “Youth, what- 
+
+
+oe 
+
+
+“Act Ill, Sc. IV] TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL 
+
+
+361 
+
+
+a eee eee eee a ee 
+
+
+‘mire not in thy mind, why I do call thee so, 
+for I will show thee no reason for’t.’ 
+
+_ Fab. A good note; that keeps you from 
+the blow of the law. 169 
+
+Sir To. [Reads] “Thou comest to the lady 
+Olivia, and in my sight she uses thee kindly: 
+but thou liest in thy throat; that is not the 
+matter I challenge thee for.’ 
+
+Fab. Very brief, and to exceeding good 
+sense—less. 
+
+Sir To. [Reads] ‘I will waylay thee go- 
+ing home: where if it be thy chance to kill 
+me, — 
+
+Fab. Good, 
+
+Sir To. [Reads] ‘Thou killest me like a 
+rogue and a villain.’ 180 
+
+Fab. Still you keep o° the windy side of 
+the law: good. 
+
+Sir To. [Reads] ‘Fare thee well; and 
+God have mercy upon one of our souls! He 
+may have mercy upon mine; but my hope is 
+better, and so look to thyself. Thy friend, 
+as thou usest him, and thy sworn enemy, 
+
+ANDREW AGUECHEEK.’ 
+If this letter move him not, his legs cannot: 
+I'll give ’t him. 189 
+
+Mar. You may have very fit occasion 
+fort: he is now in some commerce with my 
+lady, and will by and by depart. 
+
+Sir To. Go, Sir Andrew: scout me for him 
+at the corner of the orchard like a bum-baily: 
+so soon as ever thou seest him, draw; and, 
+as thou drawest, swear horrible; for it comes 
+to pass oft that a terrible oath, with a swag- 
+gering accent sharply twanged off, gives man- 
+hood more approbation than ever proof itself 
+would have earned him. Away! 200 
+
+Sir And. Nay, let me alone for swearing. 
+
+[Exit. 
+
+Sir To. Now will not I deliver his letter: 
+for the behaviour of the young gentleman 
+gives him out to be of good capacity and 
+breeding; his employment between his lord 
+and my niece confirms no less: therefore this 
+letter, being so excellently ignorant, will 
+breed no terror in the youth: he will find it 
+comes from a clodpole. But, sir, I will de- 
+liver his challenge by word of mouth; set 
+upon Aguecheek a notable report of valour; 
+and drive the gentleman, as I know his youth 
+will aptly receive it, into a most hideous 
+_ opinion of his rage, sk ll, fury and impetu- 
+osity.'* This will so fright them both that 
+they will kill one another by the look, like 
+cockatrices. < 
+
+Re-enter Oxtvia, with Vioxa. 
+
+Fab. Here he comes with your niece: give 
+them way till he take leave, and presently 
+after him. 
+
+
+Sir To. 1 will meditate the while upon 
+some horrid message for a challenge. 220 
+[Exeunt Sir Toby, Fabian, and Maria. 
+Oli. I have said too much unto a heart of 
+stone 
+And laid mine honour too unchary out: 
+There ’s something in me that reproves my 
+fault; 
+But such a headstrong potent fault it is, 
+That it but mocks reproof. 
+Vio. With the same ‘haviour that your 
+passion bears 
+Goes on my master’s grief. 
+Oli. Here, wear this jewel for me, ‘tis my 
+picture; 
+Refuse it not; it hath no tongue to vex you; 
+And I beseech you come again to-morrow. 
+What shall you ask of me that I'll deny, 
+That honour saved may upon asking give? 
+Vio. Nothing but this; your true love for 
+
+
+my master. . 
+Oli. How with mine honour may I give 
+him that 
+Which I have given to you? 
+Vio. I will acquit you. 
+Oli. Well, come again to-morrow: fare 
+thee well: 
+A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+Re-enter Sir Tosy and Fasian. 
+
+
+Sir To. Gentleman, God save thee. 
+
+Vio. And you, sir. 239 
+
+Sir To. That defence thou hast, betake 
+thee to 't: of what nature the wrongs are thou 
+hast done him, I know not; but thy inter- 
+cepter, full of despite, bloody as the hunter, 
+attends thee at the orchard-end: dismount thy 
+tuck, be yare in thy preparation, for thy 
+assailant is quick, skilful and deadly. 
+
+Vio. You mistake, sir; I am sure no man 
+hath any quarrel to me: my remembrance i¢ 
+very free and clear from any image of offence 
+done to any man. 250 
+
+Sir To. You'll find it otherwise, I assure 
+you: therefore, if you hold your life at any 
+price, betake you to your: guard; for your 
+opposite hath in him what youth, strength, skill 
+and wrath ¢an furnish man withal. 
+
+Vio. I pray you, sir, what is he? 
+
+Sir To. He is knight, dubbed with un- 
+hatched rapier and on carpet consideration; 
+but he is a devil in private brawl: souls and 
+bodies hath he divorced three; and his in- 
+censement at this moment is so implacable, 
+that satisfaction can be none but by pangs 
+of death and sepulchre. Hob, nob, is. his 
+word; give’t or take’t. 
+
+Vio, I will return again into the house and 
+
+
+« 
+
+
+362 
+
+
+TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL [Act IIl, Se. IV 
+
+
+desire some conduct of the lady. I am no 
+fighter. I have heard of some kind of men 
+that put quarrels purposely on others, to taste 
+their valour: belike this is a man of that quirk, 
+
+Sir To. Sir, no, his indignation derives 
+itself out of a very competent injury: there- 
+fore, get you on and give him his desire. 
+Back you shall not to the house, unless you 
+undertake that with me which with as much 
+safety you might answer him: therefore, on, 
+or strip your sword stark naked; for meddle 
+you must, that’s certain, or forswear to wear 
+iron about you. 
+
+Vio. This is as uncivil as strange. I be- 
+seech you, do me this courteous office, as to 
+know of the knight what my offence to him 
+is: it is something of my negligence, nothing 
+of my purpose. 
+
+Sir To. I will do so. Signior Fabian, 
+stay you by this gentleman till my return. 
+
+[Exit. 
+
+Vio. Pray you, sir, do you know of this 
+matter ? 
+
+Fab. | know the knight is incensed against 
+you, even to a mortal arbitrement; but noth- 
+ing of the circumstance more. 
+
+Vio. 1 beseech you, what manner of man 
+is he? 289 
+
+Fab. Nothing of that wonderful promise, 
+to read him by his form, as you are like to 
+find him in the proof of his valour. He 1s, 
+indeed, sir, the most skilful, bloody and fatal 
+opposite that you could possibly have found 
+in any part of Illyria. Will you walk to- 
+wards him? I will make your peace with 
+him if I can. 
+
+Vio. 1 shall be much bound to you for ’t: 
+I am one that had rather go with sir priest 
+than sir knight: I care not who knows so 
+much of my mettle. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Re-enter Sir Topsy, with Sir ANDREW. 
+
+
+Sir To. Why, man, he’s a very devil; I 
+have not seen such a firago. 1 had a pass 
+with him, rapier, scabbard and all, and he 
+gives me the stuck in with such a mortal mo- 
+tion, that it is inevitable; and on the answer, 
+he pays you as surely as your feet hit the 
+ground they step on. They say he has been 
+fencer to the Sophy. 
+
+Sir And. Pox on’t, I'll not meddle with 
+him. 
+
+Sir To. Ay, but he will not now be paci- 
+fied: Fabian can scarce hold him yonder. 310 
+
+Sir And. Plague on't, an I thought he had 
+been valiant and so cunning in fence, I ‘Id 
+have seen him damned ere I ld have chal- 
+lenged him. Let him let the matter slip, and 
+U'll give him my horse, grey Capilet. 
+
+
+Sir To. I'll make the motion: stand here, 
+make a good show on’t: this shall end with- 
+out the perdition of souls. [Aside] Marry, 
+I'll ride your horse as well as I ride you. 319 
+
+
+Re-enter FABIAN and VIOLA. 
+
+
+{To Fab.] I have his horse to take up the 
+quarrel: I have persuaded him the youth’s a 
+devil. ‘ 
+
+Fab. He is as horribly conceited of him; 
+and pants and looks pale, as if a bear were 
+at his heels. 
+
+Sir To. [To Vio.] There's no remedy, 
+sr; he will fight with you for’s oath sake: 
+marry, he hath better bethought him of his 
+quarrel, and he finds that now scarce to be 
+worth talking of: therefore draw, for the 
+supportance of his vow; he protests he will 
+not hurt you. 330 
+
+Vio. [Aside] Pray God defend me! A 
+little thing would make me tell them how 
+much | lack of a man. 
+
+Fab. Give ground, if you see him furious. 
+
+Sir To. Come, Sir Andrew, there's no 
+remedy; the gentleman will, for his hon- 
+our’s sake, have one bout with you; he can- 
+not by the duello avoid it: but he has 
+promised me, as he is a gentleman and a 
+soldier, he will not hurt you. Come on; to't. 
+
+Sir And. Pray God, he keep his oath! 
+
+Vio. I do assure you, ’tis against my will, 
+
+
+[They draw. 
+Enter ANTONIO. 
+
+
+Ant. Put up .your sword. If this young 
+gentleman 
+Have done offence, I take the fault on me: 
+If you offend him, I for him defy you. 
+Sir To. You, sir! why, what are you? 
+Ant. One, sir, that for his love dares yet 
+do more 
+Than you have heard him brag to you he will. 
+Sir To. Nay, if you be an undertaker, I 
+am for you. [They draw, 
+
+
+Enter Officers. 
+
+
+Fab. O good Sir Toby, hold; here come 
+the officers. 
+
+Sir To. I'll be with you anon. 
+
+Vio. Pray, sir, put your sword up, if you 
+please. 
+
+Sir And. Marry, will I, sir; and, for that 
+I promised you, I'll be as good as my word: 
+he will bear you easily and reins well. 
+
+First Off. This is the man; do thy office. 
+
+Sec. Off. Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit 
+of Count Orsino. 361 
+
+Ant. You do mistake me, sir. 
+
+First Of. No, sir, no jot; I know your 
+
+favour well, 
+
+
+foo Sep ag 
+Prares 
+
+
+Act IV, Se. 1] TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL 
+
+
+363 
+
+
+Though now you have no sea-cap on your 
+head. 
+Take him away: he knows I know him well. 
+
+Ant. | must obey. [To Vio.] This comes 
+
+with seeking you: 
+But there ’s no remedy; I shall answer it. 
+What will you do, now my necessity 
+
+akes me to ask you for my purse? It 
+
+grieves me 
+Much more for what I cannot do for you 370 
+Than what befalls myself. You stand amazed; 
+But be of comfort. 
+
+Sec. Off. Come, sir, away. 
+
+Ant. I must entreat of you some of that 
+
+money. 
+
+Vio. What money, sir? 
+
+For the fair kindness you have show’d me 
+here, 
+
+And, part, being prompted by your present 
+trouble, 
+
+Out of my lean and low ability 
+
+I'll lend you something: my having is not 
+much; 
+
+I'll make division of my present with you: 
+
+Hold, there’s half my coffer. 
+
+Ant. Will you deny me now? 
+Is’t possible that my deserts to you ° 
+Can lack persuasion? Do not tempt my 
+
+misery, 
+Lest that it make me so unsound a man 
+As to upbraid you with those kindnesses 
+That I have done for you. 
+
+Vio. I know of none; 
+
+Nox know I you by voice or any feature: 
+
+I hate ingratitude more in a man 
+
+Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, 
+Or any taint of vice whose strong corruption 
+Inhabits our frail blood. 
+
+Anl. O heavens themselves! 
+
+Sec. Off. Come, sir, I pray you, go. 
+
+Ant. Let me speak a little. This youth 
+
+that you see here 
+I snatch’d one half out of the jaws of death, 
+Relieved him with such sanctity of love, 
+And to his image, which methought did 
+promise ; 
+Most venerable worth, did I devotion. 
+
+First Off. What's that to us? The time 
+
+goes by: away! 
+
+Ant. But O how vile an idol proves this 
+
+god! 
+Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame. 
+In Nature there ’s no blemish but the mind; 
+~ None can be call’d deform’d but the unkind: 
+Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous evil 
+Are empty trunks o’erflourish’d by the devil. 
+
+First Off. The man grows mad: away with 
+
+him! Come, come, sir. 
+
+
+Ant. Lead me on, (Exit with Officers. 
+
+
+Vio. Methinks his words do from such 
+passion fly, 
+
+That he believes himself: so do not I. 
+Prove true, imagination, O, prove true, 
+That ip dear brother, be now ta’en for you! 
+
+Sir To. Come hither, knight; come hither, 
+Fabian: we'll whisper o'er a couplet or two 
+of most sage saws. 
+
+Vio. He named Sebastian: I my brother 
+
+know 
+Yet living in my glass; even such and so 
+In favour was my brother, and he went 
+Still in this fashion, colour, ornament, 
+For him I imitate: O, if it prove, 
+Tempests are kind and salt waves fresh in love. 
+[ Exit. 
+
+Sir To. A very dishonest paltry boy, and 
+more a coward than a hare: his dishonesty ap- 
+pears in leaving his friend here in necessity 
+and denying him; and for his cowardship, ask 
+Fabian. E 
+
+Fab. A coward, a most devout coward, 
+religious in it. 
+
+Sir And. ‘Slid, I'll after him again and 
+beat him. 
+
+Sir To. Do; cuff him soundly, but never 
+draw thy sword. 
+
+Sir And, An I do not,— [ Exit. 
+
+Fab. Come, let’s see the event. 43] 
+
+Sir To. I dare lay any money ‘twill be 
+nothing yet. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT IV. 
+
+
+Scene I. Before Oxtvia's house. 
+Enter SEBASTIAN and CLOWN. 
+
+
+Clo. Will you make me believe that | am 
+not sent for you? 
+
+Seb. Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow: 
+Let me be clear of thee. 
+
+Clo. Well held out, i’ faith! No, I do 
+not know you; nor [| am not sent to you by 
+my lady, to bid you come speak with her; 
+nor your name is not Master Cesario; nor 
+this is not my nose neither, Nothing that 
+Is sO 1s so. 
+
+Seb. I prithee, vent thy folly somewhere 
+
+else: 
+Thou know’st not me. I 
+
+Clo. Vent my folly; he has heard that word 
+of some great man and now applies it to a 
+fool. Went my folly! I am afraid this great 
+lubber, the world, will prove a cockney. I 
+prithee now, ungird thy strangeness and tell 
+me what I shall vent to my lady: shall I 
+vent to her that thou art coming? 
+
+Seb. I prithee, foolish Greek, depart from 
+
+me: 
+There ’s money for thee: if you tarry longer, 
+
+
+364 
+
+
+I shall give worse payment. 
+
+
+AraC 
+
+
+TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL [Acr IV, Se. a 
+
+
+Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep; | 
+
+
+Clo. By my troth, thou hast an open hand. | If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep! 
+
+
+These wise men that give fools money get 
+themselves a good report—after fourteen 
+years’ purchase. 
+
+
+Enter Sir ANDREW, SiR Tosy, and Fasian. 
+
+
+Sir And. Now, sir, have I met you again? 
+there’s for you. 
+
+Seb. Why, there’s for thee, and there, and 
+
+there. 
+Are all the people mad? 
+
+Sir To. Hold, sir, or I'll throw your dag- 
+ger o'er the house. 31 
+
+Clo. This w.ll I tell my lady straight: I 
+would not be in some of your coats for two 
+pence. [Exit. 
+
+Sir To. Come on, sir; hold. 
+
+Sir And. Nay, let him alone: Ill go an- 
+other way to work with him; I'll have an 
+action of battery against him, if there be any 
+law in Illyria: though I struck him first, yet 
+it’s no matter for that. 
+
+Seb. Let go thy hand. 40 
+
+Sir To. Come, sir, I will not let you go. 
+Come, my young soldier, put up your iron: 
+you are well fleshed; come on. 
+
+Seb. 1 will be free from thee. What 
+
+wouldst thou now? 
+If thou darest tempt me further, draw thy 
+sword. 
+
+Sir To. What, what? Nay, then I must 
+have an ounce or two of this malapert blood 
+from you. 
+
+
+Enter Oxtvia. 
+
+
+Oli. Hold, Toby; on thy life I charge 
+thee, hold! 
+
+
+Sir To. Madam! 50 
+Oli, Will it be ever thus? Ungracious 
+wretch, 
+
+
+Fit for the mountains ard the barbarous caves, 
+Where manners ne'er were preach’d! out of 
+my aight! 
+Be not offended, dear Cesario. 
+Rudesby, be gone! 
+[Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian. 
+I prithee, gentle friend, 
+Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion sway 
+In this uncivil and unjust extent 
+Against thy peace. Go with me to my house, 
+And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks 
+This ruffian hath botch’d up, that thou thereby 
+Mayst smile at this: thou shalt not choose 
+but go: 6] 
+Do not deny. Beshrew his soul for me, 
+He started one poor heart of mine in thee. 
+Seb. What relish is in this? how runs the 
+stream > 
+=» FT am mad, or else this is a dream: 
+
+
+‘Oli.’ Nay, come, | prithee; would thou ‘Idst 
+be ruled by me! 
+
+Seb. Madam, I will. 
+
+Oli. O, say so, and so be! [Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene II. Otivia’s house. 
+
+
+Enter Maria and CLown. 
+
+
+Mar. Nay, I prithee, put on this gown and 
+this beard; make him believe thou art Sir 
+Topas the curate: do it quickly; I'll call 
+Sir Toby the whilst. [ Exit. 
+
+Clo. Well, I'll put it on, and I will dis- 
+semble myself int; and I would I were the 
+first that ever dissembled in such a gown. I 
+am not tall enough to become the function well, 
+nor lean enough to be thought a good student; 
+but to be said an honest man and a good 
+housekeeper goes as fairly as to say a careful 
+man and a great scholar. The competitors 
+enter. 
+
+
+Enter Sir Tosy and Maria. 
+
+
+Sir To. Jove bless thee, master Parson. 
+Clo. Bonos dies, Sir Toby: for, as the old 
+
+
+hermit of Prague, that never saw pen and ink, - 
+
+
+very wittily said to a niece of King Gor- 
+boduc, “That that is is;’ so I, being master 
+Parson, am master Parson; for, what is ‘that’ 
+but ‘that,’ and ‘is’ but ‘is’? 
+
+Sir To. To him, Sir Topas. 20 
+
+Clo, What, ho, I say! peace in this prison! 
+
+Sir To. The knave counterfeits well; a 
+
+good knave. 
+
+Mal. [Within] Who calls there? 
+
+Clo. Sir Topas the curate, who comes to 
+visit Malvolio the lunatic. 
+
+Mal. Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir 
+Topas, go to my lady. 
+
+Clo. Out, hyperbolical fiend! how vexest 
+thou this man! talkest thou nothing but of 
+ladies? sito 
+
+Sir To. Well said, master Parson. 
+
+Mal. Sir Topas, never was man_ thus 
+wronged: good Sir Topas, do not think I am 
+mad: they have laid me here in hideous dark- 
+ness, 
+
+Clo. Fie, thou dishonest Satan! I call thee 
+by the most modest terms; for I am one of 
+those gentle ones that will use the devil him- 
+
+
+self with courtesy: sayest thou that house is 
+
+
+dark? 
+Mal. As hell, Sir Topas. 39 
+Clo. Why, it hath bay windows  trans- 
+parent as barricadoes, and the clearstores to- 
+ward the south north are as lustrous as ebony; 
+}and yet complainest thou of obstruction? 
+
+
+IV, 
+
+
+sett TWELFTH. NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL 
+
+
+365 
+
+
+‘ Mal. ia am not mad, Sir Topas: 
+"you, this house is dark. 
+_ Clo. Madman, thou errest: I say, there is 
+no darkness but ignorance; in which thou art 
+more puzzled than the Egyptians im ther fog. 
+Mal. | say, this house is as dark as igno- 
+cance, though ignorance were as dark as hell; 
+and I say, there was never man thus abused. 
+I am no more mad than you are: make the 
+trial of it in any constant question. 
+Clo. What is the opinion of Pythagoras 
+concerning wild fowl? 
+Mal. That the soul of our grandam might 
+happily inhabit a bird. 
+Clo. What thinkest thou of his opinion? 
+Mal. {I think nobly of the soul, and no way 
+approve his opinion. 60 
+Clo. Fare thee well. Remain thou still in 
+darkness: thou shalt hold the opinion of 
+Pythagoras ere I will allow of thy wits, and 
+fear to kill a woodcock, lest thou dispossess 
+the soul of thy grandam. Fare thee well. 
+Mal. Sir Topas, Sir Topas! 
+Sir To. My most exquisite Sir Topas! 
+ts Clo. Nay, I am for all waters. 
+Mar. Yhou mightest have done this with- 
+out thy beard ard gown: he sees thee not. 70 
+Sir To. To him in thine own voice, and 
+bring’ me word how thou findest him: I would 
+we were well rid of this knavery. If hé may 
+be conven‘ently delivered, I would he were, for 
+I am now so far in offence with my niece that 
+I cannot pursue with any safety this sport to 
+_the upshot. Come by and by to my chamber. 
+[Exeunt Sir Toby and Maria. 
+
+
+I say to 
+
+
+= 
+
+
+aera 
+
+
+aed 
+
+
+BPS) ISinging] ‘Hey, Robin, jolly Robiti 
+4 Tell me how my lady does.’ 
+% Mal. Fool! 80 
+rie Clo. ‘My lady is unkind, perdy.’ 
+é Mal. Fool! 
+Clo. “Alas, why is she so?’ 
+
+
+Mal. Fool, I say! 
+
+Clo. “She loves another’—Who calls, ha? 
+Mat. Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve 
+well af my hand, help me to a candle, and 
+i) pel, ink and paper: as I am a gentleman, I 
+will live to be thankful to thee for’t. 
+Clo, Master Malvolio? 90 
+Mal. Ay, good fool. 
+
+Clo. Alas, sir, how fell you besides your 
+five wits? 
+Mal. Foot, there was never man so noto- 
+_ riously abused: I am as well in my wits, fool, 
+as théu art. 
+
+Clo. But as well? then you are mad indeed, 
+| 9 if you be rio better in your wits than a fool. 
+Mal. They have here propertied me; keep 
+
+
+Clo. Advise you what you say; the min- 
+ister is here. Malvolio, Malvolio, thy w ts the 
+heavens restore! endeavour thyself to sleep, 
+
+
+and leave thy vain bibble babble. 
+
+
+Mal. Sir Topas! 
+
+Clo. Maintain no words with him, good 
+fellow. Who, I, sir? not I, sir. God be wi’ 
+you, good Sir Topas: Marry, amen. | will, 
+sir, I will. 
+
+Mal. Fool, fool, fool, I say! 110 
+
+Clo. Alas, sir, be patient. What say you, 
+sir? I am shent for speaking to you. 
+
+
+Mal. Good fool, help me to some light and 
+some paper: I tell thee, I am as well in my 
+wits as any man in Illyria. 
+
+Clo. Well-a-day that you were, sir! 
+
+Mal. By thishand,]am. Good fool, some 
+ink, paper and light; and convey what I will 
+set down to my lady: it shall advantage thee 
+more than ever the bearing of letter did. 120 
+
+Clo. I will help you to’t. But tell me 
+true, are you not mad indeed? or do you but 
+counterfe't? 
+
+Mal. Believe me, I am not; I tell thee true. 
+
+Clo. Nay, I'll ne'er believé a madman till 
+I see his brains. I will fetch you light and 
+paper and ink. 
+
+Mal. Fool, I'll requite it in the highest de- 
+gree: I prithee, be gone. 
+
+Clo. [Singing] I am gone, sir, 130 
+
+And anon, sir, 
+I'll be with you again, 
+In a trice, 
+Like to the éld Vice, 
+Your need to sustain; 
+Who, with dagger of lath, 
+In his rage and his wrath, 
+Cries, ah, ha! to the devil: 
+Like a mad lad, 
+Pare thy nails, dad; 140 
++Adieu, good man devil. [Exit, 
+
+
+Scene II. Otivia’s. garden. 
+Enter SEBASTIAN. 
+
+
+Seb. This is the air; that is the glorious 
+
+sun; 
+
+This pearl she gave me, I do feel ’t and see ’t; 
+
+And though "tis wonder thaf enwraps me thus, 
+
+Yet ‘tis not madness. Where ’s Antonio, then? 
+
+I could not find him at the Elephant: 
+
+Yet there he was; and there | found this 
+credit, 
+
+That he did range the town to seek me out. 
+
+His counsel now might do me golden service; 
+
+For though my soul disputes well with my 
+sérise, 
+
+That this may be some error, but no madness, 
+
+
+me in darkness, send ministers to mé, asses, | Yet doth this accident and flood of forturie 
+and do all they can to face me out of my wits. |So far exceed all instance, all discourse. 
+ry 
+
+
+366 
+
+
+TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL 
+
+
+[Act' V,7Sc. 3 
+
+
+That I am ready to distrust mine eyes 
+
+And wrangle with my reason that persuades 
+me 
+
+To any other trust but that I am mad 
+
+Or else the lady 's mad; yet, if ‘twere so, 
+
+She could not sway her house, command her 
+followers, 
+
+Take and give back affairs and their dispatch 
+
+With such a smooth, discreet and stable bear- 
+
+~ ing 
+
+As I perceive she does: there's something in’t 
+
+That is deceivable. But here the lady comes. 
+
+
+Enter Outvia and Priest. 
+
+
+Oli. Blame not this haste of mine. If you 
+mean well, 
+Now go with me and with this holy man 
+Into the chantry by: there, before him, 
+And underneath that consecrated roof, 
+Plight me the full assurance of your faith; 
+That my most jealous and too doubtful soul 
+May live at peace. He shall conceal it 
+Whiles you are willing it shall come to note, 
+What time we will our celebration keep 30 
+According to my birth. What do you say? 
+Seb. I'll follow this good man, and go with 
+you; 
+And, havng sworn truth, ever will be true. 
+Oli. Then lead the way, good father; and 
+heavens so shine, 
+That they may fairly note this act of mine! 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT V. 
+
+
+Scene I. Before Ouivia's house. 
+Enter Clown and Fasian. 
+
+
+Fab. Now, as thou lI¢vest me, let me see 
+his letter. 
+
+Clo. Good Master Fabian, grant me an- 
+other request. 
+
+Fab. Any thing. 
+
+Clo. Do not desire to see this letter. 
+
+Fab. This is, to give a dog, and in recom- 
+pense desire my dog again. 
+
+
+Enier Duke, VioLa, Curio, and Lords. 
+Duke. Belong you to the Lady Ol-via, 
+
+
+friends ? 
+
+Clo. Ay, sir; we are some of her trap- 
+pings. 
+
+Duke. 1 know thee well: how dost thou, 
+my good fellow? 
+
+Clo. Truly, sir, the better for my foes and 
+the worse for my friends. 
+
+Duke. Just the contrary; 
+thy friends. 
+
+Clo. No, sir, the worse. 
+
+
+Duke. How can that be? 19 
+
+
+the better for 
+
+
+Clo. Marry, sir, they praise me and make 
+an ass of me; now my foes tell me plainly ¢ 
+am an ass: so that by my foes, sir, 1 ptroht in 
+the knowledge of myself, and by my friends I 
+am abused: so that, conclusions to be as 
+kisses, if your four negatitves make your two 
+afirmatives, why then, the worse for my 
+friends and the better for my foes. 
+
+Duke. Why, this is excellent. 
+
+Clo. By my troth, sir, no; though it 
+please you to be one of my friends. 
+
+Duke. Thou shalt not be the worse for 
+me: there's gold. 31 
+
+Clo. But that would be double-dealing, 
+sir, I would you could make it another. 
+
+Duke. O, you give me ill counsel. 
+
+Clo. Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for 
+this once, and let your flesh and blood obey it. 
+
+Duke. Well, I will be so much a sinner, to 
+be a double-dealer: there ’s another. 
+
+Clo. Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play; 
+
+
+_jand the old saying is, the thd pays for all: 
+
+
+the triplex, sir, is a good tripping measure; 
+or the bells of Saint Bennet, sir, may put you 
+in mind; one, two, three. 
+
+Duke. You can fool no more money out 
+of me at this throw: if you will let your lady 
+know I am here to speak with her, and bring 
+her along with you, it may awake my bounty 
+further. 
+
+Clo. Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty till 
+I come again. I go, sir; but I would not 
+have you to think that my desire of having 
+is the sin of covetousness: but, as you say, sir, 
+let your bounty take a nap, I will awake it 
+anon. . (Exit. 
+
+Vio. Here comes the man, sir, who did 
+
+rescue me. 
+
+
+Enter ANTONIO and Officers. 
+Duke. That face of his I do remember 
+
+
+well; 
+Yet, when I saw it last, it was besmear’d 
+As black as Vulcan in the smoke of war: 
+A bawdling vessel was he captain of, 
+For shallow draught and bulk unprizable; 
+With which such scathful grapple did he make 
+With the most noble bottom of our fleet, 60 
+
+
+9| That very envy and the tongue of loss ~ 
+
+
+Cried fame and honour on him. What's the 
+
+matter > 
+First Off. Orsino, this is that Antonio 
+
+That took the Phoenix and her fraught from 
+Candy; 
+
+And this is he that did the Tiger board, 
+
+When your young nephew Titus lost his leg: 
+
+Here in the streets, desperate of shame and 
+state, 
+
+In private brabble did we apprehend him 
+
+
+* 
+
+
+Acr V, Sc. {] TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL 
+
+
+367 
+
+
+Vio. He did me kindness, sir, drew on my 
+side; 
+But in conclusion put strange speech upon me: 
+I know not what ‘twas but distraction. 71 
+Duke. Notable pirate! thou salt-water thief! 
+What foolish boldness brought thee to their 
+mercies, 
+Whom thou, in terms so bloody and so dear, 
+Hast made thine enemies? 
+Ant. Orsino, noble sir, 
+Be pleased that I shake off these names- you 
+give me: 
+Antonio never yet was thief or pirate, 
+Though I confess, on base and ground enough, 
+Drsino’s enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither: 
+That most ingrateful boy there by your side 80 
+From the rude sea’s enraged and foamy mouth 
+Did I redeem; a wreck past hope he was: 
+His life I gave him and did thereto add 
+My love, without retention or restraint, 
+All his in dedication; for his sake 
+Did I expose myself, pure for his love, 
+Into the danger of this adverse town; 
+Drew to defend h'm when he was beset: 
+Where being apprehended, his false cunning, 
+Not meaning to partake with me in danger, 90 
+Taught him to face me out of h’s acquaintance, 
+And grew a twenty years removed thing 
+While one would wink; denied me mine own 
+purse, 
+Which I had recommended to his use 
+Not half an hour before. 
+Vio. How can th’s be? 
+Duke. When came he to this town? 
+Ant. To-day, my lord; and for 
+months before, 
+No interim, not a minute’s vacancy, 
+Both day and night did we keep company. 
+
+
+three 
+
+
+Enter Ouivia and Attendants. 
+
+
+Duke. Here comes the now 
+heaven walks on earth. 100 
+But for thee, fellow; fellow, thy words are 
+madness: 
+Three months this youth hath tended upon me; 
+But more of that anon. Take him aside. 
+Oli. What would my lord, but that he 
+may not have, 
+Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable? 
+Cesario, you do not keep promise with me. 
+Vio. Madam! 
+Duke. Gracious Olivia,— 
+
+
+countess: 
+
+
+Oli. What do you say, Cesario? Good 
+my lord,— 
+
+Vio, My lord would speak; my duty 
+hushes me. 110 
+
+
+Oli. If it be aught to the old tune, my lord, 
+It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear 
+As howling after music. 
+
+
+Duke. Still so cruel? 
+Oli. Still so constant, lord. 
+Duke. What, to perverseness? you uncivil 
+lady, 
+To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars 
+My soul the faithfull’st offerings hath breathed 
+out 
+That e’er devotion tender’d! What shall I do? 
+Oli. Even what it please my lord, that 
+shall become him. 
+Duke. Why should I not, had I the heart 
+to do it, 
+Like to the Egyptian thief at point of death, 
+Kill what I love?—a savage jealousy 
+That sometime savours nobly. But hear me 
+this: 
+Since you to non-regardance cast my faith, 
+And that I partly know the instrument 
+That screws me from my true place in your 
+favour, 
+Live you the marble-breasted tyrant still; 
+But this your m/nion, whom | know you love, 
+And whom, by heaven I swear, I tender dearly, 
+Him will I tear out.of that cruel eye, 130 
+Where he sits crowned in his master’s spite. 
+Come, boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in 
+mischief : 
+I ‘ll sacrifice the lamb that I do love, 
+To spite a raven’s heart within a dove. 
+Vio. And I, most jocund, apt and will- 
+ingly, 
+To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die. 
+Oli. Where goes Cesario? 
+Vio. After him I love 
+More than I love these eyes, more than my 
+life, 
+More, by all mores, than e’er I shall love wife. 
+If I do feign, you witnesses above 140 
+Punish my life for tainting of my love! 
+Oli. Ay me, detested! how am I beguiled! 
+Vio. Who does beguile you? who does do 
+you wrong > 
+Oli. Hast thou forgot thyself? is it so long? 
+Call forth the holy father. 
+Duke. Come, away! 
+Oli. Whither, my lord? Cesario, husband, 
+stay. 
+Duke. Husband! 
+Oli. Ay, husband: can he that deny? 
+Duke. Her husband, sirrah! 
+
+Vio. No, my lord, not I. 
+Oli, Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear 
+That makes thee strangle thy propriety: 150 
+
+Fear not, Cesario; take thy fortunes up; 
+
+Be that thou know’st thou art, and then thou 
+art 
+
+As great as that thou fear’st. 
+
+
+Enter Priest. 
+
+
+308 
+
+
+TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL [Aer Vy Sc, | 
+
+
+5 O, welcome, father! 
+Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence, 
+Here to unfold, though lately we intended. 
+To keep in darkness what occasion now 
+Reveals before ’tis ripe, what thou dost know 
+‘Hath newly pass’d between this youth and me. 
+Priest. A contract of eternal bond of love, 
+Confirm’d by mutual joinder of your hands, 
+Attested by the holy close of lips, 
+Sirengthen'd by interchangement of your rings; 
+And all the ceremony of this compact 
+Seal’d in my function, by my testimony: 
+Since when, my watch hath told me, toward 
+my grave 
+I have travell’d but two hours. 
+Duke. O thou dissembling cub! what wilt 
+thou be 
+When time hath sow’d a grizzle on thy case? 
+Ox will not else thy craft so quickly grow, 
+That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow ? 
+Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet 17] 
+Where thou and I henceforth may never meet. 
+Vio. My lord, I do protest— 
+Oli. O, do not swear! 
+Hold little faith, though thou hast too much 
+fear, 
+Enter Sir AnpREW. 
+Sir’'And. For the love of God, a surgeon! 
+Send one presently to Sir Toby. 
+Oli. What’s the matter? 
+Sir And. He has broke my heed across 
+and has given Sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too: 
+for the love of God, your help! I had rather 
+
+
+than forty pound I were at home. 18] 
+Oli. Who has done this, Sir Andrew? 
+Sir And. ‘The count’s gentleman, one 
+
+
+Cesario: we took him for a coward, but he’s 
+the very devil incardinate, 
+
+Duke. My gentleman, Cesario? 
+
+Sir And. ’Qd’s lifelings, here he is! You 
+broke my head for nothing; and that that I 
+did, I was set on to do’t by Sir Toby. 
+
+Vio. Why do you speak to me? I never 
+
+hurt you: 190 
+You drew your sword upon me without cause; 
+But I bespake you fair, and hurt you not. 
+
+Sir And. If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, 
+you have hurt me: I think you set nothing by 
+a bloody’ coxcomb. 
+
+Enter Sir Tosy and CLown. 
+
+
+Here comes Sir Toby halting: you shall hear 
+more: but if he had not been in drink, he 
+would have tickled you othergates than he did. 
+
+Duke. How now, gentleman! how is ’t with 
+you? 200 
+
+Sir To. That’s all one: has hurt me, and 
+there ’s the end on’t, Sot, didst see Dick sur- 
+geon, sot? 
+
+
+Clo. O, he’s drunk, Sir Toby, an hour 
+
+
+agone; his eyes were set at eight 1’ the morning. 
+
+
+Sir To. Then he’s a rogue, +and a passy 
+
+
+measures panyn: I hate a drunken rogue. 
+Oli. Away with him! Who hath made 
+this havec with them? j 
+Sir And. I'll help you, Sir Toby, because 
+we'll be dressed together, 211 
+Sir To. Will you help? an ass-head and a 
+Sepia and a knave, a thin-faced knave, a 
+
+gull! 
+Olt. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be 
+look’d to, [Exeunt Clown, Fabian, Sir Toby, 
+and Sir Andrew. 
+
+
+Enter SEBASTIAN. 
+
+
+Seb. I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your 
+kinsman; 
+But, had it been the brother of my blood, 
+I must have done no less with wit and safety. 
+You ey a strange regard upon me, and by 
+that 
+I do perceive it hath offended you: 220 
+Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows 
+We made each other but so late ago. 
+Duke. One face, one voice, one habit, and 
+two persons, 
+A natural perspective, that is and is not! 
+
+Seb. Antonio, O my dear Antonio! 
+
+How have the hours rack’d and tortured me, 
+Since I have lost thee! 
+
+Ant. Sebastian are you? 
+
+Seb, Fear’st thou that, Antonio? 
+
+Ant, How have you made division of your- 
+
+self ? « 
+An apple, cleft in two, is not more twin 230 
+Than these two creatures. Which is Sebas- 
+tian? 
+Oli. Most wonderful! 
+Seb. Do I stand there? 
+brother; 
+Nor can there be that deity in my nature, 
+Of here and every where. I had a sister, 
+Whom the blind waves and surges have de- 
+vour'd. 
+Of charity, what kin are you to me? 
+What countryman? what name? what parent- 
+age? 
+
+Vio. Of Messaline: 
+
+father; 
+Such a Sebastion was my brother too, 
+So went he suited to his watery tomb: 
+If spirits can assume both form and suit 
+You come to fright us. 
+
+Seb. A spirit I am indeed; 
+But am in that dimension grossly clad 
+Which from the womb | did participate. 
+Were you a woman, as the rest goes even, 
+I should my tears let fall upon your cheek. 
+
+
+I never had a 
+
+
+Sebastian was my 
+
+
+240 
+
+
+Fd 
+7 . 
+
+
+-TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL 
+
+
+369 ° 
+
+
+~ And say “[hrice-welcome, drowned Viola!’ 
+
+
+Vio. My father had a mole upon his brow, 
+Seb. And so had mine. 250 
+Vio. And died that day when Viola from 
+her birth 
+Had number’d thirteen years. 
+Seb. O, that record is lively in my soul! 
+He finished indeed his mortal act 
+That day that made my sister thirteen years. 
+Vio. If nothing leis to make us happy both 
+But this my masculine usurp’d attire, 
+Do not embrace me ull each circumstance 
+Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump 
+That I am Viola, which to confirm, 260 
+I'll bring you to a captain in this town, 
+Where lie my maiden weeds; by whose gentle 
+help 
+I was preserved to serve this noble count. 
+All the occurrence of my fortune since 
+Hath been between this lady and this lord. 
+Seb. [To Olivia] So comes it, lady, you 
+have been mistook: 
+But nature fo her bias drew in that. 
+You would have been contracted to a maid; 
+Nor are you theren, by my life, deceived, 
+You are betroth’d both toa maid and man. 270 
+Duke, Be not amazed; right noble is his 
+blood. 
+If this be so, as yet the glass seems true, 
+I shall have share in this most happy wreck. 
+[To Viola] Boy, thou hast said to me a thou- 
+sand times 
+Thou never shouldst love woman like to me. 
+Vio. And all those sayings will I over- 
+swear; 
+And all those swearings keep as true in soul 
+As doth that orbed continent the fire 
+That severs day from night. 
+Duke. Give me thy hand; 
+And let me see thee in thy woman’s weeds. 280 
+Vio. The captain that did bring me first on 
+shore 
+Hath my maid’s garments: he upon some 
+action 
+Is now in durance, at Malvolio’s suit, 
+A gentleman, and follower of my lady’s. 
+Oli. He shall enlarge him: fetch Malvolio 
+hither: 
+And yet, alas, now I remember me, 
+They say, poor gentleman, he’s much distract. 
+
+
+Re-enter Clown with a lefter, and FABIAN. 
+
+
+A, most extracting frenzy of mine own 
+From my remembrance clearly banish’d his. 
+How does he, sirrah? 290 
+Clo. Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at 
+the stave’s end as well as a man in his case 
+may do: has here writ a letter to you; I 
+should have given ’t you to-day morning, but 
+
+
+as a madman’s epistles are no gospels, so it 
+skills not much when they are delivered, 
+
+Oli. Open’t and read it. 
+
+Clo. Look then to be well edified when the 
+fool delivers the madman. [Reads] “By the 
+Lord, madam,’— 300 
+
+Oli. How now! art thou mad? 
+
+Clo. No, madam, | do but read madness: 
+an your ladyship will have it as it ought to 
+be, you must allow Vox. 
+
+Oli. Prithee, read 1’ thy right wits. 
+
+Clo. So I do, madonna; but to read his 
+right wits is to read thus: therefore perpend, 
+my princess, and give ear. ; 
+
+Oli. Read it you, sirrah. [To Fabian. 
+
+Fab. [Reads} ‘By the Lord, madam, you 
+wrong me, and the world shall know it: 
+though you have put me into darkness and 
+gven your drunken cousin rule over me, yet 
+have I the benefit of my senses as well as 
+your ladyship. I have your own letter that 
+induced me to the semblance | put on; with 
+the which I doubt not but to do myself much 
+right, or you much shame. Think of me as you 
+please. I leave my duty a little unthought of 
+and speak out of my injury. 
+
+THE MADLY-USED Matyo.io.’ 
+
+Oli. Did he write this? 320 
+
+Clo. Ay, madam. 
+
+Duke. This savours not much of dis- 
+traction. 
+
+Olt. See him deliver’d, Fabian; brng him 
+
+hither. {Exit Fabian. 
+My lord, so please you, these things further 
+thought on, 
+To think me as well a sister as a wife, 
+One day shall crown the alliance on’t, so 
+please you, 
+Here at my house and at my proper cost. 
+Duke. Madam, I am most apt to embrace 
+your offer. 
+{To Viola] Your master quits you; and for 
+your service done him 
+So much aga‘nst the mettle of your sex, 330 
+So far beneath your soft and tender breeding, 
+And since you call’d me master for so long, 
+Here is my hand: you shall from this time be 
+Your master’s mistress. 
+
+
+Oli. 
+Re-enter FaBiaNn, with MALvotio. 
+
+
+Duke. Is this the madman? 
+
+Ol. Ay, my lord, this same. 
+How now, Malvolio! 
+
+Mal. | Madam, you have done me wrong, 
+Notorious wrong. 
+
+Oli. Have I, Malvolio? no. 
+
+Mal. Lady, you have. Pray you, peruse 
+
+that letter. 
+
+
+A sister! you are she. 
+
+
+370 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL 
+
+
+[Acr V, Sc. 1 
+
+
+You must not now deny it is your hand: 339 
+Write from it, if you can, in hand or phrase; 
+Or say ‘tis not your seal, not your invention: 
+You can say none of this: well, grant it then 
+And tell me, in the modesty of honour, 
+Why you have given me such clear lights of 
+favour, 
+Bade me come smiling and cross-garter'd to 
+you, $ 
+To put on yellow stockings and to frown 
+Upon Sir Toby and the lighter people; 
+And, acting this in an obedient hope, 
+Why have you suffer’d me to be imprison’d, 
+Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest, 350 
+And made the most notorious geck and gull 
+That e’er invention play’d on? tell me why. 
+
+Oli. Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing, 
+Though, I confess, much like the character: 
+But out of question ‘tis Maria’s hand. 
+
+And now I do bethink me, it was she 
+
+First told me thou wast mad; then camest in 
+smiling, 
+
+And in such forms which here were presup- 
+posed 
+
+Upon thee in the letter. Prithee, be content: 
+
+This practice hath most shrewdly pass’d upon 
+thee; 360 
+
+But when we know the grounds and authors 
+of it, 
+
+Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge 
+
+Of thine own cause. 
+
+Fab. Good madam, hear me speak, 
+And let ne quarrel nor no brawl to come 
+Taint the condition of this present hour, 
+Which I have wonder’d at. In hope it shall not, 
+Most freely ] confess, myself and Toby 
+Set this device against Malvolio here. 
+Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts 
+We had conceived against him: Maria writ 370 
+The letter at Sir Toby's great importance; 
+In recompense whereof he hath married her. 
+How with a sportful malice it was follow’d, 
+May rather pluck on laughter than revenge; 
+If that the injuries be justly weigh’d 
+That have on both sides pass’d. 
+
+on Alas, poor foo!, how have they baffled 
+
+thee! 
+
+
+Clo. Why, “some are born great, some’, 
+
+
+achieve greatness, and some have greatness 
+thrown upon them.’ I was one, sir, in this 
+interlude; one Sir Topas, sir; but that’s all 
+one. “By the Lord, fool, I am not mad.’ 
+But do you remember? ‘Madam, why laugh 
+you at such a barren rascal? an you smile 
+not, he’s gagged:’ and thus the whirligig of 
+time brings in his revenges. 
+
+Mal. I'll be revenged on the whole pack 
+of you. [ Exit. 
+
+Oli. He hath been most notoriously abused. 
+
+Duke. Pursue him, and entreat him to a 
+
+peace: 
+
+He hath not told us of the captain yet: 390 
+When that is known and golden time convents, 
+A solemn combination shall be made 
+Of our dear souls. Meantime, sweet sister, 
+We will not part from hence. Cesario, come; 
+For so you shall be, while you are a man; 
+But when in other habits you are seen, 
+Orsino'’s mistress and his fancy’s queen. 
+
+
+[Exeunt all, except Clown. 
+Clo. [Sings] 
+
+
+When that I was and a little tiny boy, 
+With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, 
+A foolish thing was but a toy, 400 
+
+For the rain it raineth every day. 
+
+
+But when I came to man’s esiate, 
+With hey, ho, &c. 
+"Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their 
+gate, 
+For the rain, &c. 
+
+
+But when I came, alas! to wive, 
+With hey, ho, &c. 
+
+By swaggering could I never thrive, 
+For the rain, &c. 
+
+
+But when I came unto my beds, 410 
+With hey, ho, &c. 
+
+With toss-pots still had drunken heads, 
+For the rain, &c. 
+
+
+A great while ago the world begun, 
+With hey, ho, &c. 
+
+But that’s all one, our play is done, 
+And we'll strive to please you every 
+
+
+day. 
+[Exit 
+
+
+THE WINTER’S TALE 
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSON/E 
+
+
+Leontes, king of Sicilia. 
+Mami.tius, young prince of Sicilia. 
+CaMILLO, } 
+
+' 
+Genes + Four Lords of Sicilia. 
+Dion, 
+Pouixenes, king of Bohemia. 
+FLoRIZEL, prince of Bohemia. 
+ARCHIDAMUS, a Lord of Bohemia. 
+Old Shepherd, reputed father of Perdita. 
+Clown, his son. 
+AUTOLYCUS, a rogue. 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+
+
+Scene I. Antechamber in LEonTES" palace. 
+
+
+Enter CamILLo and ARCHIDAMUS, 
+
+
+Arch. {f you shall chance, Camillo, to visit 
+Bohemia, on the like occasion whereon my ser- 
+vices are now on foot, you shall see, as | have 
+said, great difference betwixt our Bohemia and 
+your Sicilia. 
+
+Cam. | think, this coming summer, the King 
+of Sicilia means to pay Bohemia the visitation 
+which he justly owes him. * 
+
+Arch. Wherein our entertainment shall 
+shame us we will be justified in our loves; 
+for indeed— 
+
+Cam. Beseech you,— 
+
+Arch. Verily, | speak it in the freedom of 
+my knowledge: we cannot with such magnif- 
+cence—in so rare—I! know not what to say. We 
+will give you sleepy drinks, that your senses, 
+unintelligent of our insufficience, may, though 
+they cannot praise us, as little accuse us. 
+
+Cam. You pay a great deal too dear for 
+what's given freely. 19 
+
+Arch. Believe me, I speak as my under- 
+standing instructs me and as mine honesty puts 
+it to utterance. 
+
+Cam. Sicilia cannot show himself over-kind 
+to Bohemia. They were trained together in 
+their childhoods; and there rooted betwixt them 
+then such an affection, which cannot choose but 
+branch now. Since their more mature dignities 
+and rova!l necessities made separation of their 
+society, their encounters, though not personal, 
+have been royally attorneyed with interchange 
+of gifts, letters, loving embassies; that they have 
+seemed to be together, though absent, shook 
+
+
+A Mariner. 
+
+A Geaoler. 
+
+HERMIONE, queen to Leontes. 
+
+PerpiTA, daughter to Leontes and Hermione. 
+PAUuLINA, wife to Antigonus, 
+
+Emuia, a lady attending on Hermione, 
+sae Shepherdesses. 
+Other Lords and Gentlemen, Ladies, Officers, 
+and Servants, Shepherds, and Shepherdesses. 
+
+Time, as Chorus. 
+ScENE: Sicilia, and Bohemia. 
+
+
+hands, as over a vast, and embraced, as it were, 
+from the ends of opposed winds. The heavens 
+continue their loves! 
+
+Arch. | think there is not in the world either 
+malice or matter to alter it. You have an un- 
+speakable comfort of your young prince Mamil- 
+lius: it is a gentleman of the greatest promise 
+that ever came into my note. 
+
+Cam. I very well agree with you in the hopes 
+of him: it is a gallant child; one that indeed 
+physics the subject, makes old hearts fresh: 
+they that went on crutches ere he was born de- 
+sire yet their life to see him a man. 
+
+Arch, Would they else be content to die? 
+
+Cam. Yes; if there were no other excuse 
+why they should desire to live. 
+
+Arch. If the king had no son, they would 
+desire to live on crutches till he had one. 5C 
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. A room of state in the same. 
+
+
+Enter LeonTEs, HERMIONE, MaAmiILtius, 
+Po.rxENnes, CAMILLO, and Attendants. 
+
+
+Pol. Nine changes of the watery star hath 
+been 
+The shepherd's note since we have left our 
+throne 
+Without a burthen: time as long again 
+Would be fill’d up, my brother, with our 
+thanks; 
+And yet we should, for perpetuity, 
+Go hence in debt: and therefore, like a cipher, 
+Yet standing in rich place, I multiply 
+With one “We thank you’ many thousands moe 
+That go before it. 
+Leon. Stay your thanks a while; 
+And pay them when you part. 
+
+
+371 
+
+
+372 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+Pol. Sir, that’s to-morrow. 10 
+
+I am question’d by my fears, of what may 
+chance 
+Or breed upon our absence; that may blow 
+No sneaping winds at home, to make us say 
+
+‘This is put forth too truly:’ besides, I have 
+
+
+stay'd 
+To tire your royalty. 
+Leon. We are tougher, brother, 
+
+
+Than you can put us to’t. 
+Pol. No longer stay. 
+Leon. One seven-night longer. 
+Pol. Very sooth, to-morrow. 
+Leon. We'll part the time between ‘s then; 
+and in that 
+I'll no gainsaying. 
+Pol. Press me not, beseech you, so. 
+There is no tongue that moves, none, hone 3 
+
+
+the world, : 20 
+So soon as yours could win me: so it should 
+now, 
+
+
+Were there necessity in your request, although 
+*Twere needful I denied it. My affairs 
+Do even drag me homeward: which to hinder 
+Were in your love a whip to me; my stay 
+To you a charge and trouble: to save both, 
+Farewell, our brother. 
+Leon. Tongue-tied our queen? speak you. 
+Her. | had thought, sir, to have held my 
+peace until 
+You had drawn caths from him not to stay. 
+You, sit, 
+Charge him too coldly. Tell him, you are sure 
+All in Bohemia ’s well: this satisfaction 31 
+The by-gone day proclaim’d: say this to him, 
+He’s beat from his best ward. 
+Leon. Well said, Hermione. 
+Her. To tell, he longs to see his son, were 
+strong: 
+But let him say so then, and let him go; 
+But let him swear so, and he shall not stay, 
+We'll thwack him hence with distaffs. 
+Yet of your royal presence | "Il adventure 
+The borrow of a week. When at Bohemia 
+You take my lord, I'll give him my com- 
+mission 40 
+To let him there a month behind the gest 
+Prefix’d for ’s parting: yet, good deed, Leontes, 
+I love thee not a jar o’ the clock behind 
+What lady-she her lord. You'll stay > 
+
+
+Pol. No, madam. 
+Her. Nay, but you will? 
+Pol. I may not, verily. 
+
+
+Her. Verily! 
+You put me off with limber vows; but I, 
+Though you would seek to unsphere the stars 
+with oaths, 
+Should yet say “Sir, no going.’ Verily, 
+You shall not go: a lady’s ‘Verily’ ’s 50 
+
+
+As potent as a lord’s. Will you go yet? 
+Force me to keep you as a prisoner, 
+Not like a guest; so you shall pay your fees” 
+When you depart, and save your thanks. How 
+say you? 
+My prisoner ? or my guest? by your dread 
+* Verily 
+
+One of hea you shall be. 
+
+Pol. Your guest, then, madam: 
+To be your prisoner should import offending; 
+Which is for me less easy to commit 
+
+
+| Than you to punish. 
+
+
+Her. Not your gaoler, then, 
+But your kind hostess. Come, I "Il question you 
+Of my lord’s tricks and yours when you were 
+
+
+boys: 61 
+
+
+You were pretty lordings then? 
+ol. We were, fair queen, 
+Two lads that thought there was no more be- 
+hind 
+But such a day to-morrow as to-day, 
+And to be boy eternal. 
+Her. Was not my lord 
+The verier wag o’ the two? 
+
+
+Pol. We were as twinn’d lambs that did 
+
+
+frisk i’ the sun, 
+And bleat the one at the other: 
+changed 
+Was innocence for innocence; we knew not — 
+The doctrine of ill-doing, nor dream’d 70 
+That any did. Had we pursued that life, 
+And our weak spirits ne’er been higher rear’d 
+With stronger blood, we should have answer’d 
+heaven 
+Boldly ‘not guilty;" 
+
+
+Hereditary ours, 
+
+
+what we 
+
+
+the imposition clear’d 
+
+
+Her. By this we gather 
+You have tripp’d since. 
+Tol ue O my most sacred Jady! 
+
+
+Temptations have since then been born to’s 
+for 
+
+In those unfledged days was my wife a girl; 
+
+Your precious self had then not cross’d the eyes 
+
+Of my young play-fellow. 
+
+Her. Grace to boot! 80 
+Of this make no conclusion, lest you say 
+Your queen and I are devils: yet go on; : 
+The offences we have made you do we'll 
+
+answer, 
+If you first sinn’d with us and that with us 
+You did continue fault and that you slipp’d not 
+With any but with us. 
+
+Leon. Is he won yet? 
+
+Her. He'll stay, my lord. 
+
+Leon. At my request he would not, 
+Hermione, my dearest, thou never spokest 
+To better purpose. 
+
+Her. Never? 
+
+Leon, Never, but once. 
+
+
+[Act Weseutr tes 
+
+
+_ Her, What! have I twice said well? when 
+
+was 't before? 90 
+
+I prithee tell me; cram’s with praise, and 
+make ’s 
+
+As fat as tame things: one good deed dying 
+tongueless 
+
+Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that. 
+
+Our praises are our wages: you may ride’s 
+
+With one soft kiss a thousand furlongs ere 
+
+With spur we heat an acre. But to the goal: 
+
+My last good deed was to entreat his stay: 
+
+What was my first? it has an elder sister, 
+
+Or I mistake you: O, would her name were 
+Grace! 
+
+But once before I spoke to the purpose: when? 
+
+Nay, let me have 't; I long. 
+
+Leon. Why, that was when 101 
+
+Three crabbed months had sour'd themselves to 
+death, 
+
+Ere I could make thee open thy white hand 
+
+And clap thyself my love: then didst thou utter 
+
+‘I am yours forever.’ 
+
+Her. "Tis grace indeed, 
+
+Why, lo you now, I have spoke to the purpose 
+twice: 
+
+The one for ever earn’d a royal husband; 
+
+The other for some while a friend. 
+
+Leon. [Aside] Too hot, too hot! 
+To mingle friendship far is mingling bloods. 
+I have tremor cordis on me: my heart dances; 
+But not for joy; not joy. This entertainment 
+May a free face put on, derive a liberty 
+From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bosom, 
+And well become the agent; ‘t may, I grant; 
+But to be paddling palms and pinching fingers, 
+
+
+_ As now they are, and making practised smiles, 
+
+
+As in a looking-glass, and then to sigh, as 
+"twere ; 
+
+The mort 0’ the deer; O, that is entertainment 
+
+My bosom likes not, nor my brows! Mamillius, 
+
+Art thou my boy? 
+
+
+Mam. Ay, my good lord. 
+Leon. I’ fecks! 120 
+Why, that’s my bawcock. What, hast smutcly’d 
+thy nose > 
+ey say it is a copy out of mine. Come, 
+captain, : 
+We must be neat; not neat, but cleanly, cap- 
+fain: 
+
+
+And yet the steer, the heifer and the calf 
+Are all call’d neat—Still virginalling 
+Upon his palm!—How now, you wanton calf! 
+Art thou my calf> 
+Mam. Yes, if you will, my lord. 
+Leon, Thou want'st a rough pash and the 
+shocts that I have, 
+To be full like me: yet they say we are 
+Almost as like as eggs; women say so, 
+
+
+130 
+
+
+_ That will say any thing: but were they false 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+373 
+
+
+—— 
+
+
+As o’er-dyed blacks, as wind, as waters, false 
+As dice are to be wish’d by one that fixes 
+No bourn "twixt his and mine, yet were it true 
+To say this boy were like me. Come, sir page, 
+Look on me with your welkin eye: sweet 
+villian! 
+Most dear’st! my collop! 
+may 't be >— 
+Affection! thy intention stabs the centre: 
+Thou dost make possible things not so held, 
+Communicatest with dreams;—how can _ this 
+be ?— 140 
+With what’s unreal thou coactive art, 
+And fellow’st nothing: then ‘tis very credent 
+aneiapeyst co-join with something; and thou 
+ost, 
+And that beyond commission, and I find it, 
+And that to the infection of my brains 
+And hardening of my brows. 
+Pol. What means Sicilia? 
+Her. He something seems unsettled. 
+Pol. How, my lord! 
+What cheer? how ist with you, best brother? 
+Her. You look 
+As if you held a brow of much distraction: 
+Are you moved, my lord? 
+Leon, No, im good earnest. 150 
+How sometimes nature will betray its folly 
+Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime 
+To harder besoms! Looking on the lines 
+Of my boy’s face, methoughts I did recoil 
+Twenty-three years, and saw myself un- 
+breech’d, 
+In my green yelyet coat, my dagger muzzled, 
+Lest it should bite its master, and so prove, — 
+As ornaments oft do, too dangerous: 
+How like, methought, I then was to this kernel, 
+This squash, this gentleman. Mine honest 
+friend, 160 
+Will you take eggs for money? 
+Mam. No, my lord, I'll fight. 
+Leon. You will! why, happy man be’s dole! 
+My brother, 
+Are you so fond of your young prince as we 
+Do seem to be of ours? 
+Pol. If at home, sir, 
+He’s all my exercise, my mirth, my matter, 
+Now my sworn friend and then mine enemy, 
+My parasite, my soldier, statesryan, all: 
+He makes a July's day short as December, 
+And with his varying childness cures in me 
+Thoughts that would thick my blood. 171 
+Leon, So stands this squire 
+Officed with me: we two will walk, my lord, 
+And leave you to your graver steps. Hermione, 
+How thou lovest us, show in our brother’s wel- 
+come; 
+Let what is dear in Sicily be cheap: 
+Next to thyself and my young rover. he ‘s 
+
+
+Can thy dam? — 
+
+
+374 
+
+
+SE ee SE ee or 
+
+
+Apparent to my heart. 
+Her. If you would seek us 
+We are yours i’ the garden: shall ’s attena you 
+there? 
+Leon. To your own bents dispose you: 
+you ‘ll be found, 
+Be you beneath the sky. 
+now, 
+Though you perceive me not how I give line. 
+Go to, go to! 
+Yow she holds up the neb, the bill to him! 
+And arms her with the boldness of a wife 
+To her allowing husband! 
+[Exeunt Polixenes, Hermione, and 
+Attendants. 
+Gone already! 
+Inch-thick, knee-deep, o’er head and ears a 
+fork’d one! 
+Go, play, boy, play: thy mother plays, and | 
+Play too, but so disgraced a part, whose issue 
+Will hiss me to my grave: contempt and 
+
+
+[Aside] I am angling 
+180 
+
+
+clamour 
+Will be my knell. Go, play, boy, play. There 
+have been, 190 
+
+
+Or I am much deceived, cuckolds ere now; 
+And many a man there is, even at this present, 
+
+
+Now while I speak this, holds his wife by the 
+
+
+arm, 
+That little thinks she has been sluiced in 's 
+absence 
+And his pond fish’d by his next neighbour, by 
+Sir Smile, his neighbour: nay, there ’s comfort 
+in't 
+Whiles other men have gates and those gates 
+open’d, 
+As mine, against their will. Should all despair 
+That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind 
+Would hang themselves. Physic for ’t there is 
+none; 200 
+It is a bawdy planet, that will strike 
+Where ‘tis predominant; and ‘tis powerful, 
+think it, 
+From east, west, north and south: be it con- 
+cluded, 
+No barricado for a berry; know ’t; 
+It will let in and out the enemy 
+With bag and baggage: many thousand on’s 
+Have the disease, and feel ’t not. How now, 
+boy! 
+Mam. | am like you, they say. 
+Leon. Why, that’s some comfort. 
+What, Camillo there? 
+Cam. Ay, my good lord. 210 
+Leon. Go play, Mamillius; thou ‘rt an hon- 
+est man. [Exit Mamillius. 
+Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer. 
+acres had much ado to make his anchor 
+hold: 
+
+
+When you cast out, it still came home. 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+[Act I, Sc. Il 
+
+
+Leon. Didst note it? 
+€am. He would not stay at your petitions; 
+made 
+His business more material. 
+Leon. Didst perceive it? 
+[Aside] They're here with me already, 
+
+
+whispering, rounding 
+‘Sicilia is a so-forth:’ ‘tis far gone, 
+When I shall gust it last. How came 't, Camillo, 
+That he did stay ? 
+Cam. At the good queen’s entreaty. 220 
+Leon. At the queen’s be 't: ‘good’ should 
+be pertinent; 
+But, so it is, it is not. Was this taken 
+By any understanding pate but thine? 
+For thy conceit is soaking, will draw in 
+More than the common blocks: not noted, is *t, 
+But of the finer natures? by some severals 
+Of head-piece extraordinary? lower messes 
+Perchance are to this business purblind? say. 
+Cam. Business, my lord! I think most un- 
+
+
+derstand 
+Bohemia stays here longer. 
+Leon. Ha! 
+Cam. Stays here longer. 230 
+
+
+Leon. Ay, but why? 
+Cam. To satisfy your highness and the en- 
+treaties 
+Of our most gracious mistress. 
+Leon. Satisfy! 
+The entreaties of your mistress! satisfy! 
+Let that suffice. I have trusted thee, Camillo 
+With all the nearest things to my heart, as well 
+My chamber-councils, wherein, priest-like, thou 
+Hast cleansed my bosom, | from thee departed 
+Thy penitent reform’d: but we have been 
+Deceived in thy integrity, deceived 240 
+In that which seems so. 
+Cam. Be it forbid, my lord! 
+Leon. To bide upon ’t, thou art not honest, 
+or, 
+If thou inclinest that way, thou art a coward, 
+Which hoxes honesty behind, restraining 
+From course required; or else thou must be 
+counted 
+A servant grafted in my serious trust 
+And therein negligent; or else a fool 
+That seest a game play’d home, the rich stake 
+
+
+drawn, 
+And takest it all for jest. 
+Cam. My gracious lord, 
+
+
+I. may be negligent, foolish and fearful; 250 
+In every one of these no man is free, 
+
+But that his negligence, his folly, fear, 
+Among the infinite doings of the world, 
+Sometime puts forth. In your affairs, my lord 
+If ever I were wilful-negligent, 
+
+It was my folly; if industriously 
+
+I play'd the fool, it was my negligence, 
+
+
+Act I, Se. TH] 
+
+
+Not weighing well the end; if ever fearful 
+To do a thing, where I the issue doubted, 
+Whereof the execution did cry out 260 
+Against the non-performance, ‘twas a fear 
+Which oft infects the wisest: these, my lord, 
+Are such allow’d infirmities that honesty 
+
+Is never free of. But, beseech your grace, 
+
+Be plainer with me; let me know my trespass 
+By its own visage: if I then deny it, 
+
+‘Tis none of mine. 
+
+Leon. Ha’ not you seen, Camillo,— 
+
+But that’s past doubt, you have, or your eye- 
+glass 
+Is thicker than a cuckold’s horn,—or heard,— 
+For to a vision so apparent rumour 270 
+Cannot be mute,—or thought,—for cogitation 
+Resides not in that man that does not think,— 
+My wife is slippery? If thou wilt confess, 
+Or else be impudently negative, 
+To have nor eyes nor ears nor thought, then say 
+My wife’s a hobby-horse, deserves a name 
+As rank as any flax-wench that puts to 
+Before her troth-plight: say 't and justify ’t. 
+
+Cam. I would not be a stander-by to hear 
+My sovereign mistress clouded so, without 280 
+My present vengeance taken: ’shrew my heart, 
+
+ou never spoke what did become you less 
+Than this; which to reiterate were sin 
+As deep as that, though true. 
+
+Leon. Is whispering nothing? 
+Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses? 
+Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career 
+Of laughter with a sigh?—a note infallible 
+Of breaking honesty—horsing foot on foot? 
+Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more 
+
+swift? 
+Hours, minutes? noon, midnight? and all eyes 
+Blind with the pin and web but theirs, theirs 
+only, 291 
+That would unseen be wicked? is this nothing? 
+Why, then the world and all that’s in ‘t is 
+nothing; 
+The covering sky is nothing; Bohemia nothing; 
+My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these 
+nothings, 
+If this be nothing. 
+
+Cam, Good my lord, be cured 
+Of this diseased opinion, and betimes; 
+
+For ‘tis most dangerous. 
+
+
+Leon. Say it be, ’tis true. 
+Cam. No, no, my lord. 
+Leon. It is; you lie, you lie: 
+
+
+I say thou liest, Camillo, and I hate thee, 300 
+
+Pronounce thee a gross lout, a mindless slave, 
+
+Or else a hovering temporizer, that 
+
+Canst with thine eyes at once see good and 
+~ evil, 
+
+Inclining to them both: were my wife's liver 
+
+Infected as her life. she would not live 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+a eA eet 
+
+
+375 
+
+
+The running of one glass. 
+
+am. Who does infect her? 
+Leon. Why, he that wears her like her 
+
+medal, hanging 
+
+About his neck, Bohemia: who, if | 
+
+Had servants true about me, that bare eyes 
+
+To see alike mine honour as their profits, 310 
+
+Their own particular thrifts, they would do that 
+
+Which should undo more doing: ay, and thou, 
+
+His cupbearer,—whom I from meaner form 
+
+Have bench’'d and rear'd to worship, who mayst 
+see 
+
+Plainly as heaven sees earth and earth sees 
+heaven, 
+
+How I am galled,—mightst bespice a cup, 
+
+To give mine enemy a lasting wink; 
+
+Which draught to me were cordial. 
+
+Cam. Sir, my lovd, 
+I could do this, and that with no rash potion, 
+But with a lingering dram that should not work 
+Maliciously like poison: but I cannot 321 
+Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress, 
+So sovereignly being honourable. 
+
+I have loved thee,— 
+
+Leon. {Make that thy question, and go rot! 
+
+Dost think I am so muddy, so unsettled, 
+
+To appoint myself in this vexation, sully 
+
+The purity and whiteness of my sheets, 
+Which to preserve is sleep, which being spotted 
+Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps, 
+
+Give scandal to the blood o’ the prince my son, 
+Who I do think is mine and love as mine, 331 
+Without ripe moving to ‘t? Would I do this? 
+Could man so blench? 
+
+Cam. I must believe you, sir: 
+I do; and will fetch off Bohemia for ts 
+Provided that, when he’s removed, your high- 
+
+ness 
+Will take again your queen as yours at first, 
+Even for your son’s sake; and thereby for 
+sealing 
+The injury of tongues in courts and kingdoms 
+Known and allied to yours. 
+
+Leon, Thou dost advise me 
+Even so as I mine own course have set down: 
+I'll give no blemish to her honour, none. 341 
+
+Cam. My lord, 
+
+Go then; and with a countenance as clear 
+
+As friendship wears at feasts, keep with 
+Bohemia 
+
+And with your queen. I am his cupbearer: 
+
+If fromm me he have wholesome beverage, 
+
+Account me not your servant. 
+
+Leon. This is all: 
+Do't and thou hast the one half of my hearts. 
+Dot not, thou split’st thine own. 
+
+Cam. I'll do "t, my lord. 
+
+Leon. 1 will seem friendly, as thou hast 
+
+
+advised me. [Exit. 350 
+
+
+376 
+
+
+Cam. O miserable lady! But, for me, 
+What case stand I in? I must be the poisoner 
+Of good Polixenes; and my ground to do’t 
+Is the obedience to a master, one 
+Who in rebellion with himself will have 
+All that are his so too. To do this deed, 
+Promotion follows. If I could find example 
+Of thousands that had struck anointed kings 
+And flourish’d after, I Id not do ’t; but since 
+Nor brass nor stone nor parchment bears not 
+
+one, 360 
+Let villany itself forswear ’t. I must 
+Forsake the court: to do’t, or no, is certain 
+To me a break-neck. Happy star reign now? 
+Here comes Bohemia. 
+
+
+Re-enter POLIXENES. 
+
+
+Pol. This is strange: methinks 
+My favour here begins to warp. Not speak? 
+Good day, Camillo. 
+
+Cam. Hail, most royal sir! 
+
+Pol. What is the news i’ the court? 
+
+Cam. None rare, my lord. 
+
+Pol. The king hath on him such a counte- 
+
+nance 
+As he had lost some province and a region 
+Loved as he loves himself; even now I met him 
+With customary compliments; when he, 371 
+Wafting his eyes to the contrary and falling 
+A lip of much contempt, speeds from me and 
+So leaves me to consider what is breeding 
+That changeth thus his manners. 
+Cam. | dare not know, my lord. 
+Pol. How! dare not! do not. 
+know and dare not? 
+Be intelligent to me: "tis thereabouts; 
+For, to yourself, what you do know, you must, 
+And cannot say, you dare not. Good Camillo, 
+Your changed complexions are to me a mirror 
+Which shows me mine changed too; for I 
+must be 
+A party in this alteration, finding 
+Myself thus alter’d with 't. 
+
+Cam. There is a sickness 
+Which puts some of us in distemper, but 
+I cannot name the disease; and it is caught 
+Of you that yet are well. 
+
+Pol. How! caught of me! 
+Make me not sighted like the basilisk: 
+
+I have look’d on thousands, who have sped the 
+better 
+
+By my regard, but kill’d none so. Camillo. 
+
+As you are certainly a gentleman, thereto 391 
+
+Clerk-like experienced, which no less adorns 
+
+Our gentry than our parents’ noble names, 
+
+In whose success we are gentle,—I beseech you, 
+
+If you know aught which does behove my 
+knowledge 
+
+Thereof to be inform’d, impriso» ’t not 
+
+
+Do you 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. II 
+
+
+——— 
+
+
+In ignorant concealment. 
+Cam. I may not answer. 
+Pol. A sickness caught of me, and yet I 
+well! 
+I must be answer’d. Dost thou hear, Camillo? 
+I conjure thee, by all the parts of man 400 
+nies honour does acknowledge, whereof the 
+east 
+Is not this suit of mine, that thou declare 
+What incidency thou dost guess of harm 
+Is creeping toward me; how far off, how near; 
+Which may be prevented, if to be; 
+If not, how best to bear it. 
+
+Cam. Sir, I will tell you; 
+Since I am charged in honour and by him 
+That I think honourable; therefore mark my 
+
+counsel, 
+Which must be even as swiftly follow’d as 
+I mean to utter it, or both yourself and me 410 
+Cry lost, and so good night! 
+
+Pol. 
+
+Cam. J am appointed him to murder you. 
+
+Pol. By whom, Camillo? 
+
+Cam. By the king. 
+
+Pol. For what? 
+
+Cam. He thinks, nay, with all confidence 
+
+he swears, 
+As he had seen ’t or been an instrument 
+To vice you to’t, that you have touch’d his 
+queen 
+Forbiddenly. 
+
+Pol. O, then my best blood turn 
+To an infected jelly and my name 
+Be yoked with his that did betray the Best! 
+Turn then my freshest reputation to 420 
+A savour that may strike the dullest nostril 
+Where I arrive, and my approach be shunn’d, 
+Nay, hated too, worse than the great’st in- 
+
+fection 
+That e’er was heard or read! 
+
+Cam. Swear his thought over 
+By each particular star in heaven and 
+By all their influences, you may as well 
+Forbid the sea for to obey the moon 
+As or by oath remove or counsel shake 
+The fabric of his folly, whose foundation 
+Is piled upon his faith and will continue 430 
+The standing of his body. 
+
+Pol. How should this grow? 
+
+
+Cam. J know not: but I am sure ‘tis 
+safer to 
+Avoid what’s grown than question how “tre 
+born. 
+
+
+If therefore you dare trust my honesty, 
+
+That lies enclosed in this wunk which you 
+
+Shall bear along unpawn’d, away to-night! 
+
+Your followers I will whisper to the business, 
+
+And will by twos and threes at several pos- 
+terns 
+
+
+On, good Camillo. 
+
+
+Oy De Mt a 
+
+
+Ux 
+
+
+Be | 
+
+
+ise, ay 
+
+
+Clear them o’ the city. For myself, I ‘Il put 
+
+My fortunes to your service, which are here 
+
+By this discovery lost. Be not uncertain; 44] 
+
+For, by the honour of my parents, I 
+
+Have utter’d truth: which if you seek to 
+prove, 
+
+I dare not stand by; nor shall you be safer 
+
+Than one condemn’d by the king’s own mouth, 
+thereon : 
+
+His execution sworn. 
+
+Pol. I do believe thee: 
+
+I saw his heart in’s face. Give me thy hand: 
+
+Be pilot to me and thy places shall 
+
+Still neighbour mine. My ships are ready and 
+
+
+My people did expect my hence departure 450 
+
+
+Two days ago. This jealousy 
+
+
+_Is for a precious creature: as she’s rare 
+
+
+Must it be great, and as his person's mighty, 
+Must it be violent, and as he does conceive 
+He is dishonour’d by a man which ever 
+
+
+~ Profess’d to him, why, his revenges must 
+
+
+In that be made more bitter. Fear o’ershades 
+me: 
+Good expedition be my friend, and comfort 
+TThe gracious queen, part of his theme, but 
+_ nothing 
+Of his ill-ta’en suspicion! Come, Camillo; 460 
+I will respect thee as a father if 
+Thou bear’st my life off hence: let us avoid. 
+fam. It is in mine authority to command 
+The kevs of all the posterns: please your 
+highness 
+To take the urgent hour. Come, sir, away. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT II. 
+
+
+Scene I. A room in Leontes’ palace. 
+Enter HERMIONE, Mamitutus, and Ladies. 
+
+
+Her. Take the boy to you: he so troubles 
+me, 
+"Tis past enduring. 
+First Lady. Come, my gracious lord, 
+Shall I be your playfellow? 
+am, No, I'll none of you. 
+First Lady. Why, my sweet lord? : 
+‘Mam. You'll kiss me hard and speak to 
+me as if 
+I were a baby still. I love you better. 
+Sec. Lady. And why so, my lord? 
+Mam. Not for because 
+Your brows are blacker; yet black brows, they 
+say, 
+
+
+Become some women best, so that there be not 
+
+
+Too much hair there, but in a semicircle, 10 
+(ya half-moon made with a pen. 
+Sec. Lady. Who taught you this? 
+Mam. | learnt it out of women’s faces. 
+Pray now 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+377 
+
+
+What colour are your eyebrows? 
+First Lady. Blue, my lord. 
+Mam. Nay, that’s a mock: I have seen a 
+lady’s nose 
+That has been blue, but not her eyebrows. 
+First: Lady. Hark ye; 
+The queen your mother rounds apace: we shall 
+Present our services to a fine new prince 
+One of these days; and then you ‘ld wanton 
+
+
+with us, 
+If we would have you. 
+Sec. Lady, She is spread of late 
+
+
+Into a goodly bulk: good time encounter her! 
+Her. What wisdom stirs amongst you? 
+Come, sir, now 
+I am for you again: pray you, sit by us, 
+And tell’s a tale. 
+Mam. Merry or sad shall ’t be? 
+Her. As merry as you will. 
+Mam. A sad tale’s best for winter: I have 
+one 
+Of sprites and goblins. 
+er. Let’s have that, good sir. 
+Come on, sit down: come on, and do your best 
+To fright me with your sprites; you're power- 
+ful at it. 
+Mam. There was a man— 
+Her. Nay, come, sit down; then on. 
+Mam. Dwelt by a churchyard: I will tell it 
+softly ; 30 
+Yond crickets shall not hear it. 
+Her. Come on, then, 
+And give ’t me in mine ear. 
+
+
+Enter LEONTES, with ANTIGONUS, Lords, 
+and others. 
+
+
+Leon. Was he met there? his train? Cam- 
+illo with him? 
+First Lord. Behind the tuft of pines I met 
+them; never 
+Saw I men scour so on their way: I eyed them 
+Even to their ships. 
+Leon. How blest am I 
+In my just censure, in my true opinion! 
+Alack, for lesser knowledge! how accursed 
+In being so blest! There may be in the cup 
+A spider steep'd, and one may drink, depart, 
+And yet partake no venom, for his knowledge 
+Is not infected: but if one present 
+The abhorr’d ingredient to his eye, make 
+known 
+How he hath drunk, he cracks his gorge, his 
+sides, 
+With violent hefts. I have drunk, and seen 
+the spider. 
+Camillo was his help in this, his pandar: 
+There is a plot against my life, my crown; 
+All's true that is mistrusted: that false villain 
+Whom I employ’d was pre-employ’d by him: 
+
+
+378 
+
+
+He has discover’d my design, and I 50 
+Remain a pinch’d thing; yea, a very trick 
+For them to play at will. How came the 
+posterns 
+So easily open > 
+First Lord. By his great authority ; 
+Which often hath no less prevail’d than so 
+On your command. 
+Leon. I know 't too well. 
+Give me the boy: I am glad you did not nurse 
+him: 
+Though he does bear some signs of me, yet you 
+Have too much blood in him. 
+Her. What is this? sport? 
+Leon. Bear the boy hence; he shall not 
+come about her; 
+Away with him! and let her sport herself 60 
+With that she's big with; for ‘tis Polixenes 
+Has made thee swell thus. 
+Her. But I ‘Id say he had not, 
+And I'll be sworn you would believe my 
+saying, ; 
+Howe'er you Jean to the nayward. 
+Leon. You, my lords, 
+Look on her, mark her well; be but about 
+To say ‘she is a goodly lady,’ and 
+The justice of your hearts will thereto add 
+*’Tis pity shes not honest, honourable:’ 
+Praise her but for this her without-door form, 
+Which on my faith deserves high speech, and 
+straight 70 
+The shrug, the hum or ha, these petty brands 
+That calumny doth use—O, I am out— 
+That mercy does, for calumny will sear 
+Virtue itself: these shrugs, these hums and 
+
+
+ha’s. 
+
+When you have said ‘she’s goodly,’ come 
+between 
+
+Ere you can say ‘she’s honest:’ but be't 
+known, 
+
+
+From him that has most cause to grieve it 
+should be, 
+She's an adulteress. 
+
+Her. Should a villain say so, 
+The most eplenish’d villain in the world, 
+He were as much more villain: you, my lord. 
+Do but mistake. 
+
+Leon. You have mistook, my lady, 
+Polixenes for Leontes: O thou thing! 
+
+Which I'll not call a creature of thy place, 
+Lest barbarism, making me the precedent, 
+Should a like lanevage use to all degrees 
+And mannerly distinguishment leave out 
+Betwixt the prince and beggar: I have said 
+She's an adulteress; I have said with whom: 
+More, she's a traitor and Camillo is 
+
+A federary with her, and one that knows 90 
+What she should shame to know herself 
+
+But with her most vile principal, that she's 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+[Acr II, Sc. 1 
+
+
+A bed-swerver, even as bad as those 
+That vulgars give bold’st titles, ay, and privy 
+To this their late escape. 
+Her. No, by my life, 
+Privy to none of this. How will this grieve 
+you, 
+When you shall come to clearer knowledge 
+that 
+You thus have publish’d me! Gentle my lord, 
+You scarce can right me throughly then to say 
+You did mistake. 
+Leon. No; if I mistake 100. 
+In those foundations which | build upon, 
+The centre is not big enough to bear 
+A school-boy’s top. Away with her! to prison! 
+He who shall speak for her is afar off guilty 
+But that he speaks. 
+Her. There's some ill planet reigns: 
+I must be patient till the heavens look 
+With an aspect more favourable. Good my 
+lords, 
+I am not prone to weeping, as our sex 
+Commonly are; the want of which vain dew 
+Perchance shall dry your pities: but I have 
+That honourable grief lodged here which 
+burns 
+Worse than tears drown: beseech you all, my 
+lords, 
+With thoughts so qualified as your charities 
+Shall best instruct you, measure me; and so 
+The king's will be perform'd! 
+Leon. Shall I be heard? 
+Her, Who is‘t that goes with me? Beseech 
+your highness, 
+My women may be with me; for you see 
+My plight requires it. Do not weep, good 
+fools; 
+There is no cause: when you shall know your 
+mistress 
+Has deserved prison, then abound in tears 120 
+As I come out: this action | now go on 
+Is for my better grace. Adieu, my lord: 
+I never wish’d to see you sorry; now 
+I trust I shall. My women, come; you have 
+leave. 
+Leon. Go, do our bidding; hence! 
+[Exit Queen, guarded; with Ladies. 
+First Lord. Beseech your highness, call the 
+queen again. 
+Ant. Be certain what you do, sir, lest your 
+
+
+justice 
+Prove violence; in the which three great ones 
+suffer, 
+Yourself, your queen, your son. 
+First Lord. For her, my lord, 
+
+
+l dare my life lay down and will do't, sir, 
+
+Please you to accept it, that the queen is 
+spotless 
+
+I’ the eyes of heaven and to you; I mean, 
+
+
+Acr II, Se. II] 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 379 
+
+
+In this which you accuse her. 
+
+Ant. If it prove 
+¥She 's otherwise, I ‘Il keep my stables where 
+I lodge my wife; I ‘ll go in couples with her; 
+Than when [ feel and see her no farther trust 
+
+her; 
+For every inch of woman in the world, 
+Ay, every dram of woman's flesh is false, 
+If she be. 
+
+Leon. Hold your peaces. 
+
+First Lord. Good my lord,— 
+
+Ant. It is for you we speak, not for our- 
+
+selves: 140 
+You are abused and by some putter-on 
+That will be damn'd for 't; would I knew the 
+villain, 
+“FI would land-damn him. Be she honour- 
+flaw'd, 
+I have three daughters; the eldest is eleven; 
+The second and the third, nine, and some five; 
+_If this prove true, they'll pay for 't: by mine 
+honour, 
+I'll geld ‘em all; fourteen they shall not see, 
+To bring false generations: they are co-heirs; 
+And I had rather glib myself than they 
+Should not produce fair issue. 
+
+Leon, Cease; no more. 
+You smell this business with a sense as cold 
+As is a dead man’s nose: but | do see 't and 
+
+feel 't, 
+As you feel doing thus; and see withal 
+The instruments that feel. 
+
+Ant. If it be so, 
+
+We need no grave to bury honesty: 
+There's not a grain of it the face to sweeten 
+
+
+OF the whole dungy earth. 
+
+
+Leon. What! lack I credit? 
+
+» First Lord. | had rather you did lack than 
+I, my lord, 
+
+Upon this ground; and more it would content 
+
+me 159 
+
+
+To have her honour true than your suspicion, 
+Be blamed for't how you might. 
+
+Leon. Why, what need we 
+Commune with you of this, but rather follow 
+Our forceful instigation? Our prerogative 
+Calls not your counsels, but our natural good- 
+
+ness 
+Imparts this; which if you, or stupified 
+Or seeming so in skill, cannot or will not 
+Relish a truth like us, inform yourselves 
+We need no more of your advice: the matter, 
+The loss, the gain, the ordering ont, is all 
+Properly ours. 
+
+Ant. And I wish, my liege. 170 
+You had only in your silent judgement tried it, 
+Without more overture. 
+
+Leon. How could that be? 
+Either thou art most ignorant by age, 
+
+
+Or thou wert born a fool. 
+Added to their familiarity, 
+Which was as gross as ever touch'’d con- 
+jecture, 
+That lack'd sight only, nought for approbation 
+But only seeing, all other circumstances 
+Made up to the deed, doth push on this pro- 
+ceeding: 
+Yet, for a greater confirmation, 
+For in an act of this importance ‘twere 
+Most piteous to be wild, I have dispatch'd in 
+post 
+To sacred Delphos, to Apollo's temple, 
+Cleomenes and Dion, whom you know 
+Of stuff'd sufficiency: now from the oracle 
+They eg bring all; whose spiritual counsel 
+had, 
+Shall stop or spur me. Have I done well? 
+First Lord. Well done, my lord. 
+Leon. Though I am satisfied and need no 
+more 
+Than what I know, yet shall the oracle 190 
+Give rest to the minds of others, such as he 
+Whose ignorant credulity will not 
+Come up to the truth. So have we thought it 
+good 
+From our free person she should be confined, 
+Lest that the treachery of the two fled hence 
+Be left her to perform. Come, follow us; 
+We are to speak in public; for this business 
+Will raise us all. 
+Ant. [Aside] To laughter, as I take it, 
+If the good truth were known. [ Exeunt, 
+
+
+Camillo’s flight, 
+
+
+180 
+
+
+Scene II. A prison. 
+Enter Pautina, a Gentleman, and Attendants, 
+
+
+Paul. The keeper of the prison, call to him; 
+Let him have knowledge who I am. 
+[Exit Gent. 
+Good lady, 
+No court in Europe is too good for thee; 
+What dost thou then in prison? 
+
+
+Re-enter Gentleman, with the Gaoler. 
+
+
+Now, good sir, 
+
+You know me, do you not? 
+
+Gaol. For a worthy lady 
+And one whom much I honour. 
+
+Paul. Pray you then, 
+Conduct me to the queen. 
+
+Gaol. I may not madam: 
+To the contrary I have express commandment. 
+
+Paul. Here's ado, 
+To lock up honesty and honour front 10 
+The access of gentle visitors! Ist lawful, 
+
+pray you, 
+
+To see her women? any of them? Emiliad: 
+
+Goal. So please you, madam, 
+To put apart these your attendants, I 
+
+
+380 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+[Act ll, Sesiil 
+
+
+Shall bring Emilia forth. 
+
+Paul. I pray now, call her. 
+Withdraw yourselves. 
+
+[Exeunt Gentleman and Attendants. 
+
+Gaol. And, madam, 
+I must be present at your conference. 
+
+Paul. Well, be’t so, prithee. [Exit Gaoler. 
+Here's such ado to make no stain a stain 
+As passes colouring. 
+
+
+Re-enter Gaoler, with Emuia. 
+
+
+Dear gentlewoman, 20 
+How fares our gracious lady > 
+Emil. As well as one so great and so for- 
+lorn 
+May hold together: on her frights and griefs, 
+Which never tender lady hath borne greater, 
+She is something before her time deliver'd. 
+
+Paul. A boy? 
+
+Emil. A daughter, and a goodly babe, 
+Lusty and like to live: the queen receives 
+Much comfort in "t; says ‘My poor prisoner, 
+
+I am innocent as you.’ 
+Paul. I dare be sworn: 
+These dangerous unsafe lunes i’ the king, be- 
+shrew them! 
+He must be told on’t, and he shall: the office 
+Becomes a woman best; | ‘ll take t upon me: 
+If I prove honey-mouth’d, let my tongue blister 
+And never to my red-look’d anger be 
+‘The trumpet any more. Pray you, Emilia, 
+Commend my best obedience to the queen: 
+If she dares trust me with her little babe, 
+I'll show ‘t the king and undertake to be 
+Her advocate to the loud’st. We do not know 
+How he may soften at the sight o” the child: 
+The silence often of pure innocence 
+Persuades when speaking fails. 
+
+Emil. Most worthy madam, 
+Your honour and your goodness is so evident 
+That your free undertaking cannot miss 
+A thriving issue: there is no lady living 
+So meet for this great errand. Please your 
+
+ladyship 
+To visit the next room, I'll presently 
+Acquaint the queen of your most noble offer; 
+Who but to-day hammer’d of this design, 
+But durst not tempt a minister of honour, 50 
+Lest she should be denied. 
+
+Paul. Tell her, Emilia, 
+
+I'll use that tongue I have: if wit flow from ’t 
+
+As boldness from my bosom, let’t not be 
+doubted 
+
+I shall do good. 
+
+Emil. Now be you blest for it! 
+I'll to the queen: please you, come something 
+
+nearer. 
+
+Gaol. Madam, if ’t please the queen to send 
+
+the babe, 
+
+
+I know not what I shall incur to pass it, 
+Having no warrant. 
+
+Paul. You need not fear it, sirs 
+This child was prisoner to the womb and is 
+By law and process of great nature thence 60 
+Freed and enfranchised, not a party to 
+The anger of the king nor guilty of, 
+
+If any be, the trespass of the queen. 
+
+Gaol. I do believe it. 
+
+Paul. Do not you fear: upon mine hon- 
+
+our, | 
+
+
+Will stand betwixt you and danger. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. A room in Leontes’ palace. 
+
+
+Enter Leontes, ANTIGONUS, Lords, and 
+Servants. 
+
+
+Leon. Nor night nor day no rest: it is but ., 
+
+
+weakness 
+To bear the matter thus; mere weakness. If 
+The cause were not in being,—part o’ the 
+cause, 
+
+She the adulteress; for the harlot king 
+Is quite beyond mine arm, out of the blank 
+And level of my brain, plot-proof; but she 
+I can hook to me; say that she were gone, 
+Given to the fire, a moiety of my rest 
+Might come to me again. Who’s there? 
+
+First Serv. My lord? 
+
+Leon. How does the boy? 
+
+First Serv. He took good rest to-night; 10 
+‘Tis hoped his sickness is discharged. 
+
+Leon. To see his nobleness! 
+Conceiving the dishonour of his mother, 
+He straight declined, droop’d, took it deeply. 
+Fasten’d and fix’'d the shame on’t in himself, 
+Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep, 
+And downright languish’'d. Leave me solely: 
+
+
+go, 
+
+See how he fares. [Exit Serv.] Fie, fie! no 
+thought of him: 
+
+The very thought of my revenges that way 
+
+Recoil upon me: in himself too mighty, 20 
+
+And in his parties, his alliance; let him be 
+
+Until a time may serve: for present vengeance, 
+
+Take it on her. Camillo and Polixenes : 
+
+Laugh at me, make their pastime at my sor- 
+row: 
+
+They should not laugh if I could reach them, 
+nor 
+
+Shall she within my power. 
+
+
+Enter Pautina, with a chila. 
+
+
+First Lord. You must not enter, 
+Paul. Nay, rather, good my lords, be sec- 
+ond to me: ; 
+Fear you his tyrannous passion more, alas, 
+Than the queen’s life? a gracious innocent 
+soul, 7 
+More free than he is jealous. 
+
+
+Act II, Sc. II] 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+381 
+
+
+SSS eee 
+
+
+Ant. That ’s enough. 30 
+
+Sec. Serv. Madam, he hath not slept to- 
+
+night; commanded 
+None should come at him. 
+
+Paul. Not so hot, good sir: 
+I come to bring him sleep. "Tis such as you, 
+That creep like shadows by him and do sigh 
+At each his needless heavings, such as you 
+Nourish the cause of his awaking: | 
+Do come with words as medicinal as true, 
+Honest as either, to purge him of that humour 
+That presses him from sleep. 
+
+Leon. What noise there, ho? 
+
+Paul. No noise, my lord; but needful con- 
+
+ference 40 
+About some gossips for your highness. 
+
+Leon. How! 
+Away with that audacious lady! Antigonus, 
+I charged thee that she should not come about 
+Sain) | me: 
+
+“{ knew she would. 
+
+» Ant. I told her so, my lord, 
+On your displeasure’s peril and on mine, 
+She should not visit you. 
+
+Leon. What, canst not rule her? 
+
+Paul. From all dishonesty he can: in this, 
+Unless he take the course that you have done, 
+Commit me for committing honour, trust it, 
+He shall not rule me. 
+
+_ Ant. La you now, you hear: 50 
+When she will take the rein I let her run; 
+But she ‘Il not stumble. 
+
+Paul. / Good my liege, I come; 
+And, I beseech you, hear me, who profess 
+Myself your loyal servant, your physician, 
+Your most obedient counsellor, yet that dare 
+Less appear so in comforting your evils, 
+Than such as most seem yours: | say, | come 
+From your good queen. 
+
+Leon. Good queen! 
+
+Paul. Good queen, my lord, 
+Good queen; I say good queen; 
+
+
+And would by combat make her good, so 
+were I 
+A man, the worst about you. 
+Leon. Force her hence. 61 
+
+
+Paul. Let him that makes but trifles of his 
+eyes 
+First hand me: on mine own accord I'll of; 
+But first I ‘Il do my errand. The good queen, 
+For she is good, hath brought you forth a 
+daughter ; 
+
+
+Here "tis; commends it to your blessing. 
+
+
+[Laying down the child. 
+Leon. Out! 
+A mankind witch! Hence with her, out o’ 
+door: 
+A most intelligencing bawd! 
+Paul. Not so: 
+
+
+I am as ignorant in that as you 
+In so entitling me, and no less honest 70 
+Than you are mad; which is enough, I'l] 
+warrant, 
+As this world goes, to pass for honest. 
+Leon. Traitors! 
+Will you not push her out? Give her the 
+bastard. 
+Thou dotard! thou art woman-tired, unroosted 
+By thy dame Partlet here. Take up the bas- 
+tard; 
+Take 't up, I say; give 't to thy crone. 
+Paul. For ever 
+Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou 
+Takest up the princess by that forced base- 
+
+
+ness 
+Which he has put upon 't! 
+Leon. He dreads his wife. 
+
+
+Paul. So I would you did; then ‘twere past 
+all doubt 8&0 
+You ‘Id call your children yours, 
+
+Leon. A nest of traitors! 
+
+Ant. I am none, by this good light. 
+
+Paul. Nor I, nor any 
+But one that's here, and that’s himself, for he 
+The sacred honour of himself, his queen’s, 
+His hopeful son’s, his babe’s, betrays to 
+
+slander, 
+Whose sting is sharper than the sword’s; and 
+will not— 
+For, as the case now stands, it is a curse 
+He cannot be compell’d to ’t—once remove 
+The root of his opinion, which is rotten 
+As ever oak or stone was sound. 
+
+Leon. A callet 90 
+
+Of boundless tongue, who late hath beat her 
+husband 
+
+And now baits me! This brat is none of mine; 
+
+It is the issue of Polixenes: 
+
+Hence with it, and together with the dam 
+
+Commit them to the fire! 
+
+
+Paul. It is yours; 
+And, might we lay the old proverb to your 
+charge, 
+
+
+So like you, "tis the worse. Behold, my lords, 
+
+Although the print be little, the whole matter 
+
+And copy of the father, eye, nose, lip, 
+
+The trick of ’s frown, his forehead, nay, the 
+valley, ] 
+
+The pretty dimples of his chin and cheek, 
+
+His smiles, 
+
+The very mould and frame of hand, nail, 
+finger: 
+
+And thou, good goddess Nature, which hast 
+made it 
+
+So like to him that got it, if thou hast 
+
+The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all 
+colours 
+
+No yellow in't, lest she suspect, as he does. 
+
+
+382 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+[Acr Il, Sc. Ill 
+
+
+Her children not her husband’s! 
+
+Leon. A gross hag! 
+And, lozel, thou art worthy to be hang’d, 
+That wilt not stay her tongue. 
+
+Ant. Hang all the husbands 110 
+That cannot do that feat, you ‘Il leave yourself 
+Hardly one subject. 
+
+Leon. Once more, take her hence. 
+
+Paul, A most unworthy and unnatural lord 
+Can do no more. 
+
+Leon. I'll ha’ thee burnt. 
+
+Paul. I care not: 
+It is an heretic that makes the fire, 
+
+Not she which burns in't. I'll not call you 
+tyrant; 
+
+But this most cruel usage of your queen, 
+
+Not able to produce more accusation 
+
+Than your own weak-hinged fancy, something 
+savours 
+
+Of tyranny and will ignoble make you, 120 
+
+Yea, scandalous to the world. 
+
+Leon, On your allegiance, 
+
+Out of the chamber with her! Were I a ty- 
+rant, 
+
+Where were her life? she durst not call me so, 
+
+lf she did know me one. Away with her! 
+
+Paul. 1 pray you, do not push me; I'll 
+
+be gone. 
+
+Look to your babe, my lord; ‘tis yours: Jove 
+send her 
+
+A better guiding spirit! 
+hands? 
+
+You, that are thus so tender o’er his follies, 
+
+Will never do him good, not one of you. 
+
+So, so: farewell; we are gone. [Exit. 130 
+
+Leon. Thou, traitor, hast set on thy wife to 
+
+this. 
+
+My child? away with 't! Even thou, that hast 
+
+A heart so tender o’er. it, take it hence 
+
+And see: it instantly consumed with fire; 
+
+Even thou and none but thou. Take it up 
+straight; 
+
+Within this hour bring me word ‘tis done, 
+
+And by good testimony, or I "Il seize thy life, 
+
+With what thou else call’st thine. If thou re- 
+fuse 
+
+And wilt encounter with my wrath, say so; 
+
+The bastard brains with these my proper 
+hands 
+
+Shall I dash out. Go, take it to the fire; 141 
+
+For thou set’st on thy wife. 
+
+Ant. I did not, sir; 
+‘These lords, my noble fellows, if they please, 
+Can clear me in't. 
+
+Lords. We can: my royal liege, 
+
+He is not guilty of her coming hither. 
+
+Leon. You're liars all. , 
+
+First Lord. Beseech your highness, give us 
+
+better credit: 
+
+
+What needs these 
+
+
+We have always truly served you, and be- 
+seech you 
+
+So to esteem of us, and on our knees we beg, 
+
+As recompense of our dear services 150 
+
+Past and to come, that you do change this 
+purpose, 
+
+Which being so horrible, so bloody, must 
+
+Lead on to some foul issue: we all kneel. 
+
+Leon. I am a feather for each wind that 
+
+blows: 
+
+Shall I live on to see this bastard kneel 
+
+And call me father? better burn it now 
+
+Than curse it then. But be it; let it live. 
+
+It shall not neither. You, sir, come you hither; 
+
+You that have been so tenderly officious 
+
+With Lady Margery, your midwife there, 160 
+
+To save this bastard’s life,—for ‘tis a bastard, 
+
+So sure as this beard’s grey,—what will you 
+adventure 
+
+To save this brat’s life? 
+
+Ant. Any thing, my lord, 
+
+That my ability may undergo 
+
+And nobleness impose: at least thus much: 
+
+I'll pawn the little blood which I have left 
+
+To save the innocent: any thing possible. 
+
+
+Leon. It shall be possible. Swear by this 
+
+
+sword 
+Thou wilt perform my bidding. 
+Ant. I will, my lord. 
+
+
+Leon. Mark and perform it, see’st thou? 
+
+for the fail 170 
+
+Of any point in’t shall not only be 
+
+Death to thyself but to thy lewd-tongued wife, 
+
+Whom for this time we pardon. We enjoin 
+thee, 
+
+As thou art liege-man to us, that thou carry 
+
+This female bastard hence and that thou 
+bear it 
+
+To some remote and desert place quite out 
+
+Of our dominions, and that there thou leave 
+it, 
+
+Without more mercy, to its own protection 
+
+And favour of the climate. As by strange 
+fortune 
+
+It came to us, I do in justice charge thee, 180 
+
+On thy soul's peril and thy body’s torture, 
+
+That thou commend it strangely to some place 
+
+Where chance may nurse or end it. Take 
+it up. 
+
+Ant. I swear to do this, though a present 
+
+death 
+
+
+Had been more merciful. Come on, poor 
+
+
+babe: 
+
+Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and 
+ravens 
+
+To be thy nurses! Wolves and bears, they 
+say, 
+
+
+Casting their savageness aside have done 
+Like offices of pity. Sir, be prosperous 
+
+
+of 
+
+
+Act Ill, Sc. Il] 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+383 
+
+
+And 
+190 
+
+
+In more than this deed does require! 
+blessing 
+Against this cruelty fight on thy side, 
+Poor -thing, condemn’d: to loss! 
+[Exit with the child. 
+Leon. No, I'll not rear 
+
+
+Another's issue. 
+Enter a Servant. 
+
+
+Serv. Please your highness, posts 
+From those you sent to the oracle are come - 
+An hour since: Cleomenes and Dion, 
+
+Being well arrived from Delphos, are both 
+landed, 
+Hasting to the court. 
+
+First Lord. So please you, sir, their speed 
+Hath been beyond account. 
+
+Leon. Twenty three days 
+They have been absent: ‘tis good speed; 
+
+foretells 
+
+~The great Apollo suddenly will have 200 
+The truth of this appear. Prepare you, lords; 
+Summon a session, that we may arraign 
+Our most disloyal lady, for, as she hath 
+Been publicly accused, so shall she have 
+
+A just and open trial. While she lives 
+
+My heart will be a burthen to me. Leave me, 
+And think upon my bidding. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT Til. 
+
+
+Scene I. A sea-port in Sicilia. 
+Enter CLEOMENES and Dion. 
+
+
+Cleo. The climate’s delicate, the air most 
+sweet, 
+Fertile the isle, the temple much surpassing 
+The common praise it bears. 
+
+Dion. I shall report, 
+For most it caught me, the celestial habits, 
+Methinks I so should term them, and the 
+
+reverence 
+Of the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice! 
+How ceremonious, solemn and unearthly 
+It was i’ the offering! 
+
+Cleo. But of all, the burst 
+And the ear-deafening voice o’ the oracle, 
+Kin to Jove’s thunder, so surprised my sense, 
+That I was nothing. 
+
+Dion. If the event o’ the journey 
+Prove as successful to the queen,—O be’t 
+
+so!— 
+As it hath been to us rare, pleasant, speedy, 
+The time is worth the use on ’t. 
+
+Cleo. Great Apollo 
+Turn all to the best! These proclamations, 
+So forcing faults upon Hermione, 
+
+I little like. 
+
+Dion. The violent carriage of it 
+
+Will clear or end the business: when the oracle, 
+
+
+Thus by Apollo's great divine seal’d up, 
+
+Shall the contents discover, something rare 
+
+Even then will rush to knowledge. Go: fresh 
+horses! 
+
+And gracious be the issue! [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. A court of Justice. 
+Enter LEontTEs, Lords, and Officers. 
+
+
+Leon. This sessions, to our great grief we 
+pronounce, 
+
+Even pushes ’gainst our heart: the party tried 
+The daughter of a king, our wife, and one 
+OF us too much beloved. Let us be clear’d 
+Of being tyrannous, since we so openly 
+Proceed in justice, which shall have due course, 
+Even to the guilt or the purgation. 
+Produce the prisoner. 
+
+Of. Itis his highness’ pleasure that the queen 
+Appear in person here in court. Silence! 10 
+
+
+Enter HERMIONE guarded; PAULINA and 
+Ladies attending. 
+
+
+Leon. Read the indictment. 
+
+Of. [Reads] Hermione, queen to the worthy 
+Leontes, king of Sicilia, thou art here accused 
+and arraigned of high treason, in committing 
+adultery with Polixenes, king of Bohemia, and 
+conspiring with Camillo to take away the life of 
+our sovereign lord the king, thy royal husband: 
+the pretence whereof being by circumstances 
+partly laid open, thou, Hermione, contrary to 
+the faith and allegiance of a true subject, didst 
+counsel and aid them, for their better safety, 
+to fly away by night. 
+
+Her. Since what I am to say must be but 
+
+that 
+Which contradicts my accusation and 
+The testimony on my part no other 
+But what comes from myself, it shall scarce 
+boot me 
+To say ‘not guilty:’ mine integrity 
+Being counted falsehvod, shall, as I express it, 
+Be so received. But thus: if powers divine 
+Behold our human actions, as they do, 30 
+I doubt not then but innocence shall make 
+False accusation blush and tyranny 
+Tremble at patience. You, my lord, best know, 
+Who least will seem to do so, my past life 
+Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true, 
+As I am now nnhappy; which is more 
+Than history can pattern, though devised 
+And play’d to take spectators. -For behold me 
+A fellow of the royal bed, which owe 
+A moiety of the throne, a great king’s daughter, 
+The mother to a hopeful prince, here standing 
+To prate and talk for life and honour ‘fore 
+Who please to come and hear, For life, i 
+prize it 
+
+
+384 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+[Acr III, Se, II 
+
+
+As I weigh grief, which I would spare: for 
+honour, 
+
+*Tis a derivative from me to mine, 
+
+And only that I stand for. I appeal 
+
+To your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes 
+
+Came to your court, how I was in your grace, 
+
+How merited to be so; since he came, 
+
+‘With what encounter so uncurrent | 50 
+
+Have strain’d to appear thus: if one jot beyond 
+
+The bound of honour, or in act or will 
+
+That way inclining, harden’d be the hearts 
+
+Of all that hear me, and my near’st of kin 
+
+Cry fie upon my grave! 
+
+Leon, I ne’er heard yet 
+That any of these bolder vices wanted 
+Less impudence to gainsay what they did 
+Than to perform it first. 
+
+Her. That’s true enough; 
+Though ‘tis a saying, sir, not due to me. 
+
+Leon. You will not own it. 
+
+Her. tMore than mistress of 60 
+Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not 
+At all acknowledge. For Polixenes, 
+
+With whom I am accused, | do confess 
+
+I loved him as in honour he required, 
+
+With such a kind of love as might become 
+
+A lady like me, with a love even such, 
+
+So and no other, as yourself commanded: 
+
+Which not to have done I think had been in me 
+
+Both disobedience and ingratitude 
+
+To you and toward your friend, whose love 
+had spoke, 70 
+
+Even since it could speak, from an infant, freely 
+
+That it was yours. Now, for conspiracy, 
+
+I know not how it tastes; though it be dish’d 
+
+For me to try how: all I know of it 
+
+Is that Camillo was an honest man; 
+
+And why he left your court, the gods them- 
+selves, 
+
+Wotting no more than J, are ignorant. 
+
+Leon. You knew of his departure, as you 
+
+know 
+What you have underta’en to do in's absence. 
+
+Her. Sir, 80 
+You speak a language that I understand not: 
+My life-stands in the level of your dreams, 
+Which I'll lay down. 
+
+Leon. Your actions are my dreams; 
+You had a bastard: by Polixenes, 
+
+And I but dream'd it. As you were past all 
+shame,— 
+
+Those of your fact are so—so past all truth: 
+
+Which to deny concerns more than avails; for 
+
+
+as 
+
+Thy brat hath been cast out, like to itself, 
+No father owning it,—which is, indeed, 
+
+More criminal in thee than itso thou 90 
+Shalt feel our justice, in whose easiest passage 
+
+
+Look for no less than death. 
+
+
+Her. Sir, spare your threats: 
+The bug which you would fright me with I seek. 
+To me can life be no commodity: 
+
+The crown and comfort of my life, your favour, 
+
+I do give lost; for I do feel it gone, 
+
+But know not how it went. My second joy 
+
+And first-fruits of my body, from his presence 
+
+I am barr'd, like one infectious. My third 
+comfort, 
+
+Starr’d most unluckily, is from my breast, 100 
+
+‘The innocent milk in it most innocent mouth, 
+
+Haled out to murder: myself on every post 
+
+Proclaim’d a’strumpet: with immodest hatred 
+
+The child-bed privilege denied, which ‘longs 
+
+To women of all fashion; lastly, hurried 
+
+Here to this place, 1’ the open air, before 
+
+I have got strength of limit. Now, my liege, 
+
+Tell me what blessings I have here alive, 
+
+That I should fear todie? Therefore proceed. 
+
+But yet hear this; mistake me not; no life, 
+
+I prize it not a straw, but for mine honour, 
+
+Which I would free, if I shall be condemn’d 
+
+Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else 
+
+But what your jealousies awake, | tell you 
+
+‘Tis rigour and not law. Your honours all, 
+
+I do refer me to the oracle: 
+
+Apollo be my judge! 
+
+First Lord, This your request 
+Is altogether just: therefore bring forth, 
+
+And in Apollo's name, his oracle. 
+[Exeunt certain officers. 
+
+Her. The Emperor of Russia was my father: 
+O that he were alive, and here beholding 121 
+His daughter’s trial! that he did but see 
+The flatness of ‘my misery, yet with eyes 
+Of pity, not revenge! 
+
+
+Re-enter Officers, with CLEOMENES and DIoNn. 
+
+
+Off. You here shall swear upon this sword 
+of justice, 
+That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have 
+Been both at Delphos, and from thence have 
+brought 
+This seal’d-up oracle, by the hand deliver’d 
+Of great Apollo's priest and that since then 
+You have not dared to break the holy seal 130 
+Nor read the secrets in "t. 
+
+Cleo. Dion. All this we swear. 
+
+Leon. Break up the seals and read. 
+
+Off. [Reads] Hermione is chaste; Polixenes 
+blameless; Camillo a true subject; Leontes a 
+jealous tyrant; his innocent babe truly begotten; 
+and the king shall live without an heir, if that 
+which is lost be not found. 
+
+
+Lords. Now blessed be the great Apollo! 
+
+
+Her, Praised! 
+Leon. Hast thou read truth? y 
+Of Ay, my lord; even so 
+
+
+140 
+
+
+As it is here set down. 
+
+
+aa 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+385 
+
+
+_ Leon. There is no truth at all 1’ the oracle: 
+The sessions shall proceed: this is mere false- 
+
+
+hood. 
+Enter Servant, 
+
+
+Serv. My lord the king, the king! 
+
+Leon. What is the business? 
+Serv. O sir, I shall be hated to report it! 
+The prince your son, with mere conceit and fear 
+
+Of the queen's speed, is gone. 
+
+
+Leon. How! gone! 
+
+Serv. Is dead. 
+
+~- Leon. Apollo’s angry; and the heavens 
+themselves 
+
+
+Do strike at my injustice. [Hermione swoons.] 
+How now there! 
+Paul. This news is mortal to the queen: 
+look down 
+And see what death is doing. 
+eon. Take her hence: 
+
+
+Her heart is but o’ercharged; she will recover: 
+
+
+150 
+
+
+~ I have too much believed mine own suspicion: 
+
+
+Beseech you, tenderly apply to her 
+
+Some remedies for life. 
+
+{Exeunt Paulina and Ladies, with Hermione. 
+
+Apollo, pardon 
+
+My great profaneness ‘gainst thine oracle! 
+
+{ll reconcile me to Polixenes, 
+
+New woo my queen, recall the good Camillo, 
+
+Whom I proclaim a man of truth, of mercy; 
+
+For, being transported by my jealousies 
+
+To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose 
+
+Camillo for the minister to poison 
+
+My friend Polixenes: which had been done, 
+
+But that the good mind of Camillo tardied 
+
+My swift command, though I with death and 
+with 
+
+Reward did threaten and encourage him, 
+
+Not doing ’t and being done: he, most humane 
+
+And fill’d with honour, to my kingly guest 
+
+Unclasp’d my practice, quit his fortunes here, 
+
+Which you knew great, and to the hazard 
+
+Of all incertainties himself commended, 170 
+
+No richer than his honour: how he glisters 
+
+Thorough my rust! and how his piety 
+
+Does my deeds make the blacker! 
+
+
+Re-enter PAULINA. 
+Paul. Woe the while! 
+
+
+O, cut my lace, lest my heart, cracking it, 
+Break too! 
+First Lord. What fit is this, good lady? 
+Paul. What studied torments, tyrant, hast 
+for me? 
+What wheels? racks? fires? what flaying? boil- 
+ing? 
+In leads or oils> what old or newer torture 
+Must I receive, whose every word deserves 
+To taste of thy most worst? Thy tyranny 180 
+
+
+Together working with thy jealousies, 
+Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle 
+For girls of nine, O, think what they have done 
+And then run mad indeed, stark mad! for all 
+Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it. 
+That thou betray'dst Polixenes, ‘twas nothing; 
+That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant 
+And damnable ingrateful: nor was ‘t much, 
+Thou wouldst have poison’d good Camillo’s 
+honour, 
+To have him kill a king; poor trespasses, 190 
+More monstrous standing by: whereof I reckon 
+The casting forth to crows thy baby-daughter 
+To be or none or little; though a devil 
+Would have shed water out of fire ere done ’t: 
+Nor is ’t directly laid to thee, the death 
+
+
+Of the young prince, whose honourable 
+thoughts, 
+
+Thoughts high for one so tender, cleft the 
+heart 
+
+
+That could conceive a gross and foolish sire 
+
+Blemish’d his gracious dam: this is not, no, 
+
+Laid to thy answer: but the last——O lords, 
+
+When have I said, cry ‘woe!’—the queen, 
+the queen, 
+
+The sweet’st, dear’st creature ’s dead, and ven- 
+geance for ’t 
+
+Not dropp’d down yet. 
+
+First Lord. The higher powers forbid! 
+Paul. | say she’s dead; I'll swear’t. If 
+
+word nor oath 
+
+Prevail not, go and see: if you can bring 
+
+Tincture oz lustre in her lip, her eye, 
+
+Heat outwardly or breath within, I ‘ll serve you 
+
+As I would do the gods. But, O thou tyrant! 
+
+Do not repent these things, for they are heavier 
+
+Than all thy woes can stir: therefore betake 
+thee 210 
+
+To nothing but despair. A thousand knees 
+
+Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting, 
+
+Upon a barren mountain, and still winter 
+
+In storm perpetual, could not move the gods 
+
+To look that way thou wert. 
+
+
+Leon. Go on, go on: 
+Thou canst not speak too much; I have de- 
+served 
+All tongues to talk their bitterest. 
+First Lord. Say no more: 
+Howe’er the business goes, you have made 
+fault 
+I’ the boldness of your speech. 
+Paul. I am sorry for 't: 
+
+
+All faults I make, when I shall come to know 
+them, 220 
+
+I do repent. Alas! I have show’d too much 
+
+The rashness of a Woman: he is touch’d 
+
+To the noble heart. What’s gone and what’ 
+past help 
+
+Should be past grief: do not receive affliction 
+
+
+386 
+
+
+At my petition; I beseech you, rather 
+Let me be punish’d, that have minded you 
+Of what you should forget. Now, good my 
+liege, 
+Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman: 
+The love I bore your queen—lo, fool again! — 
+{ ‘ll speak of her no more, nor of your children; 
+I'll not remember you of my own lord, 231 
+Who is lost too: take your patience to you, 
+And I'll say nothing. 
+Leon. Thou didst speak but well 
+When most the truth; which I receive much 
+better 
+Than to be pitied of thee. Prithee, bring me 
+To the dead bodies of my queen and son: 
+One grave shall be for both: upon them shall 
+The causes of their death appear, unto 
+Our shame perpetual. Once a day I ‘Il visit 
+he chapel where they lie, and tears shed there 
+Shall be my recreation: so long as nature 241 
+Will bear up with this exercise, so long 
+I daily vow to use it. Come and lead me 
+Unto these sorrows. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. Bohemia. A desert country near 
+the sea. 
+Enter ANTIGoNUus with a Child, and a 
+Mariner. 
+Ant. Thou art perfect then, our ship hath 
+
+
+touch'd upon 
+The deserts of Bohemia ? 
+
+
+Mar. Ay, my lord: and fear 
+We have landed in ill time: the skies look 
+grimly 
+And threaten present blusters. In my con- 
+science, 
+The heavens with that we have in hand are 
+angry 
+
+
+And frown upon’s. 
+Ant. Their sacred wills be done! 
+aboard; 
+Look to thy bark: I "Il not be iong before 
+I call upon thee. 
+
+Mar. Make your best haste, and go not 10 
+Too fari’ the land: ‘tis like to be loud weather; 
+Besides, this place is famous for the creatures 
+Of prey that keep upon 't. 
+
+
+Go, get 
+
+
+Ant. Go thou away: 
+i Il follow instantly. 
+Mar. I am glad at heart 
+
+
+'To be so rid o” the business. [Exit. 
+Ant. Come, poor babe: 
+
+{ have heard, but not believed, the spirits o° 
+
+the dead 
+
+May walk again: if such thing be, thy mother 
+
+Appear'd to me last night, for ne’er was dream 
+
+So like a waking. To me comes a creature, 
+
+Sometimes her head on one side, some another; 
+
+I never saw a vessel of like sorrow, 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+{Acr IH, Sc. ll 
+
+
+So fill’d and so becoming: in pure white robes, 
+
+Like very sanctity, she did approach 
+
+My cabin where I lay; thrice bow’d before me, 
+
+And gasping to begin some speech, her eyes 
+
+Became two spouts: the fury spent, anon 
+
+Did this break from her: “Good Antigonous, 
+
+Since fate, against thy better disposition, 
+
+Hath made thy person for the thrower-out 
+
+Of my poor babe, according to thine oath, 30 
+
+Places remote cnough are in Bohemia, 
+
+There weep and leave it crying; and, for the 
+babe 
+
+Is counted lost for ever, Perdita, 
+
+I prithee, call't. For this ungentle business, 
+
+Put on thee by my lord, thou ne’er shalt see 
+
+Thy wife Paulina more.’ And so, with shrieks, 
+
+She melted into air. Affrighted much, 
+
+I did in time collect myself and thought 
+
+This was so and no slumber. Dreams are toys: 
+
+Yet for this once, yea, superstitiously, 40 
+
+I will be squared by this. I do believe 
+
+Hermione hath suffer’d death, and that 
+
+Apollo would, this being indeed the issue 
+
+Of King Polixenes, it should here be laid, 
+
+Either for life or death, upon the earth 
+
+Of its right father. Blossom, speed thee well! 
+
+There lie, and there thy character: there these; 
+
+Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee, 
+pretty, 
+
+And still rest thine. 
+wretch, 
+
+That for thy mother’s fault art thus exposed 
+
+To loss and what may follow! Weep I cannot, 
+
+But my heart bleeds; and most accursed am | 
+
+To be by oath énjoin’d to this. Farewell! 
+
+The day frowns more and more: thou ‘rt like 
+to have 
+
+A lullaby too rough: I never saw 
+
+The heavens so dim by day. A savage clamour! 
+
+Well may I get aboard! This is the chase: 
+
+I am gone for ever. [Fxit, pursued by a bear. 
+
+
+Enter a Shepherd. 
+
+
+Shep. I would there were no age between 
+sixteen and three-and-twenty, or that youth 
+would sleep out the rest; for there is nothing in 
+the between but getting wenches with child, 
+wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting— 
+Hark you now! Would any but these boiled 
+brains of nineteen and two-and-twenty hunt 
+this weather? They have scared away two of 
+my best sheep, which I fear the wolf will sooner 
+find than the master: if any where I have 
+them, ‘tis by the seaside, browsing of ivy. 
+Good luck, an’t be thy will! what have we 
+here? Mercy on’s, a barne; a very pretty 
+barne!_ A boy or achild, | wonder? A pretty 
+one; a very pretty one: sure, some ‘scape: 
+though I am not bookish, yet I can read wait- 
+
+
+The storm begins: poor 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. II] 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE z 
+
+
+387 
+
+
+ing-gentlewoman in the ‘scape. This has been 
+some stair-work, some trunk-work, some be- 
+hind-door-work: they were warmer that got 
+this than the poor thing is here. I'll take it up 
+for pity: yet I'll tarry till my son come; he 
+hallooed but even now. Whoa, ho, hoa! 
+
+
+Enter Clown. 
+
+
+Clo. Hilloa, loa! 80 
+
+Shep. What, art so near? If thou ‘It see a 
+thing to talk on when thou art dead and rotten, 
+come hither. What ailest thou, man? 
+
+Clo. 1 have seen two such sights, by sea and 
+by land! but I am not to say itis a sea, for it is 
+now the sky: betwixt the firmament and it you 
+cannot thrust a bodkin’s point. 
+
+Shep. Why, boy, how is it? 
+
+Clo. I would you did but see how it chafes, 
+how it rages, how it takes up the shore! but 
+that’s not to the point. O, the most piteous cry 
+of the poor souls! sometimes to see ‘em, and not 
+to see em; now the ship boring the moon with 
+her main-mast, and anon swallowed with yest 
+and froth, as you ‘ld thrust a cork into a hogs- 
+head. And then for the land-service, to see how 
+the bear tore out his shoulder-bone; how he 
+cried to me for help and said his name was 
+Antigonus, a nobleman. But to make an end 
+of the ship, to see how the sea flap-dragoned 
+it; but, first, how the poor souls roared, and 
+the sea mocked them; and how the poor 
+gentleman roared and the bear mocked him, 
+
+both roaring louder than the sea or weather. 
+
+Shep. Name of mercy, when was this, boy ? 
+
+Clo. Now, now: I have not winked since I 
+saw these sights: the men are not yet cold 
+under water, nor the bear half dined on the 
+gentleman: he’s at it now. 
+
+Shep. Would I had been by, to have helped 
+the old man! Ht 
+
+Clo. I would you had been by the ship side, 
+to have helped her: there your charity would 
+have lacked footing. 
+
+Shep. Heavy matters! heavy matters! but 
+look thee here, boy. Now bless thyself: thou 
+mettest with things dying, I with things new- 
+born. Here's a sight for thee: look thee, a 
+bearing-cloth for a squire’s child! look thee 
+here; take up, take up, boy; open't. So, let’s 
+see: it was told me I should be rich by the 
+fairies. This is some changeling: open’t. 
+What's within, boy? 
+
+Clo. You're a made old man: if the sins of 
+your youth are forgiven you, you ‘re well to live. 
+Gold! all gold! ; 
+
+Shep. This is fairy gold, boy, and ’twill 
+prove so: up with 't, keep it close: home, home, 
+the next way. We are lucky, boy; and to be 
+
+
+so still requires nothing but secrecy. Let my 
+sheep go: come, good boy, the next way home. 
+
+Clo. Go you the next way with your findings. 
+I ‘ll go see if the bear be gone from the gentle- 
+man and how much he hath eaten: they are 
+never curst but when they are hungry: if there 
+be any of him left, I "Il bury it. 
+
+Shep. That’s a good deed. If thou mayest 
+discern by that which is left of him what he is, 
+fetch me to the sight of him. 
+
+Clo. Marry, will I; and you shall help to 
+put him 1’ the ground. 141 
+
+Shep. “Tis a lucky day, boy, and we ‘ll do 
+good deeds on 't. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+ACT IV. Scene I. 
+Enter Time, the Chorus. 
+
+
+Time. I, that please some, try all, both joy 
+and terror 
+Of good and bad, that makes and unfolds error, 
+Now take upon me, in the name of Time, 
+To use my wings. Impute it not a crime 
+To me or my swift passage, that I slide 
+O’er sixteen years and leave the growth untried 
+Of that wide gap, since it is in my power 
+To o’erthrow law and in one self-born hour 
+To plant and o’erwhelm custom. Let me pass 
+The same I am, ere ancient’st order was 10 
+Or what is now received: I witness to 
+The times that brought them in; so shall I do 
+To the freshest things now reigning and make 
+stale 
+The glistering of this present, as my tale 
+Now seems to it. Your patience this allowing, 
+I turn my glass and give my scene such growing 
+As you had slept between: Leontes leaving, 
+The effects of his fond jealousies so grieving 
+That he shuts up himself, imagine me, 
+Gentle spectators, that | now may be 20 
+In fair Bohemia; and remember well, 
+I mentioned a son o’ the king’s, which Florizel 
+I now name to you; and with speed so pace 
+To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace 
+Equal with wondering: what of her ensues 
+I list not prophesy; but let Time’s news 
+Be known when ‘tis brought forth. A shepherd’s 
+daughter, 
+And what to her adheres, which follows after, 
+Is the argument of Time. Of this allow, 
+If ever you have spent time worse ere now; 
+If never, yet that Time himself doth say 
+He wishes earnestly you never may. [Exit. 
+Bohemia. The palace of 
+
+
+POLIXENES. 
+Enter PoLixENEs and CAMILLO. 
+
+
+Pol. I pray thee, good Camillo, be no more 
+importunate: ‘tis a sickness denying thee any 
+thing; a death to grant this. 
+
+
+Scene II. 
+
+
+388 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+[Act IV, Se, TIT 
+
+
+Cam. It is fifteen years since I saw my 
+country: though I have for the most part been 
+aired abroad, | desire to lay my bones there. 
+Besides, the penitent king, my master, hath sent 
+for me; to whose feeling sorrows I might be 
+some allay, cr I o’erween to think so, which is 
+another spur to my departure. 10 
+
+Pol. As thou lovest me, Camillo, wipe not 
+out the rest of thy services by leaving me now: 
+the need I have of thee thine own goodness 
+hath made; better not to have had thee than 
+thus to want thee: thou, having made me busi- 
+nesses which none without thee can sufficiently 
+manage, must either stay to execute them thy- 
+self’or take away with thee the very services 
+thou hast done; which if I have not enough con- 
+sidered, as too much I cannot, to be more thank- 
+ful to thee shall be my study, and my profit 
+therein the heaping friendships. Of that fatal 
+country, Sicilia, prithee speak no more; whose 
+very naming punishes me with the remembrance 
+of that penitent, as thou callest him, and recon- 
+ciled king, my brother; whose loss of his most 
+precious queen and children are even now to be 
+afresh Jamented. Say to me, when sawest thou 
+the Prince Florizel, my son? Kings are no less 
+unhappy, their issue not being gracious, than 
+they are in losing them when they have ap- 
+proved their virtues. 
+
+Cam. Sir, it is three days since | saw the 
+prince. What his happier affairs may be, are 
+to me unknown: but I have missingly noted, he 
+is of late much retired from court and is less 
+frequent to his princely exercises than formerly 
+he hath appeared. 
+
+Pol. I have considered so much, Camillo, and 
+with some care; so far that I have eyes under 
+my service which look upon his removedness; 
+from whom I have this intelligence, that he is 
+seldom from the house of a most homely shep- 
+herd; a man, they say, that from very nothing, 
+and beyond the imagination of his neighbours, 
+is grown into an unspeakable estate. 
+
+Cam. | have heard, sir, of such a man, who 
+hath a daughter of most rare note: the report of 
+her is extended more than can be thought to 
+begin from such a cottage. 50 
+
+Pol. That’s likewise part of my intelligence; 
+but, I fear, the angle that plucks our son thither. 
+Thou shalt accompany us to the place; where 
+we will, not appearing what we are, have some 
+question with the shepherd; from whose sim- 
+plicity I think it not uneasy to get the cause of 
+my son’s resort thither. Prithee, be my pres- 
+ent partner in this business, and lay aside the 
+thoughts of Sicilia. 
+
+Cam. | willingly obey your command. 60 
+
+Pol. My best Camillo! We must disguise 
+
+
+ourse fw LExeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. A road near the Shepherd's cottage. 
+Enter AUTOLYCUS, singing. 
+
+
+When daffodils begin to peer, 
+With heigh! the doxy over the dale, 
+
+Why, then comes in the sweet o’ the year; 
+For the red blood reigns in the winter’s pale. 
+
+
+The white sheet bleaching on the hedge, 
+With heigh! the sweet birds, O, how they 
+sing! 
+Doth set my pugging tooth on edge; 
+For a quart of ale is a dish for a king. 
+
+
+The lark, that tirra-lyra chants, 
+With heigh! with heigh! the thrush and the 
+jay, 10 
+Are summer songs for me and my aunts, 
+While we lie tumbling in the hay. 
+
+
+I have served Prince Florizel and in my time 
+wore three-pile; but now I am out of service: 
+
+
+But shall I go mourn for that, my dear? 
+The pale moon shines by night: 
+
+And when I wander here and there, 
+I then do most go right. 
+
+
+If tinkers may have leave to live, 
+And bear the sow-skin budget, 
+
+Then my account I well may give, 
+And in the stocks avouch it. 
+
+
+My traffic is sheets; when the kite builds, look to 
+lesser linen. My father named me Autolycus; 
+who being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was 
+likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered triffes. 
+With die and drab I purchased this caparison, 
+and my revenue is the silly cheat. Gallows and 
+knock are too powerful on the highway: beating 
+and hanging are terrors to me: for the life to 
+come, I sleep out the thought of it, A prize! 
+a prize! 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+Enter Clown. 
+
+
+Clo, Let me see: every “leven wether tods; 
+every tod yields pound and odd shilling; fifteen 
+hundred shorn, what comes the wool to? 
+
+Aut. [Aside] If the springe hold, the cock’s 
+mine. 
+
+Clo. I cannot do ‘t without counters. Let me 
+see; what am I to buy for our sheep-shearing 
+feast? Three pound of sugar, five pound of cur- 
+rants, rice,—what will this sister of mine do with 
+rice? But my father hath made her mistress of 
+the feast, and she lays it on. She hath made 
+me four and twenty nosegays for the shearers, 
+three-man-song-men all, and very good ones; 
+but they are most of them means and bases; but 
+one puritan amongst them, and he sings psalms 
+to hornpipes. I must have saffron to colour the 
+warden pies; mace; dates?—none, that’s out 
+of mv note; nutmegs, seven: a race or two of 
+
+
+an} 
+
+
+Activ, Sc IV]i 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+389 
+
+
+eee ee ae eo 
+
+
+ginger, but that I may beg; four pound of 
+prunes, and as many of raisins o’ the sun. 
+
+Aut. O that ever I was born! 
+
+[Grovelling on the ground. 
+
+Clo. I’ the name of me— 
+
+Aut. O, help me, help me! pluck but off 
+these rags; and then, death, death! 
+
+Clo. Alack, poor soul! thou hast need of 
+more rags to lay on thee, rather than have 
+these off. 
+
+Aut. O sir, the loathsomeness of them 
+offends me more than the stripes I have received, 
+which are mighty ones and millions. 6l 
+
+Clo. Alas, poor man! a million of beating 
+may come to a great matter. 
+
+Aut. 1 am robbed, sir, and beaten; my 
+money and apparel ta’en from me, and these 
+detestable things put upon me. 
+
+Clo. What, by a horseman, or a footman? 
+
+Aut. A footman, sweet sir, a footman. 
+
+Clo. Indeed, he should be a footman by the 
+garments he has left with thee: if this be a 
+horseman’s coat, it hath seen very hot service. 
+Lend me thy hand, I'll help thee: come, lend 
+me thy hand. 
+
+_Aul, O, good sir, tenderly, O! 
+
+Clo. Alas, poor soul! 
+
+Aut. O, good sir, softly, good sir! 
+sir, my shoulder-blade is out. 
+
+Clo. How now! canst stand? 
+
+Aut. [Picking his pocket] Softly, dear sir; 
+good sir, softly. You ha’ done mea charitable 
+office, 81 
+
+Clo. Dost lack any money? I have a little 
+money for thee. 
+
+Aut. No, good sweet sir; no I beseech you, 
+sir: I have a kinsman not past three quarters of 
+a mile hence, unto whom | was going; I shall 
+there have money, or anything | want: offer 
+me no money, | pray you; that kills my heart. 
+
+Clo. What manner of fellow was he that 
+robbed you? 90 
+
+Aut. A fellow, sir, that I have known to go 
+about with troll-my-dames: I knew him once a 
+servant of the prince: | cannot tell, good sir, 
+for which of his virtues it was, but he was cer- 
+tainly whipped out of the court. : 
+
+Clo. His vices, you would say; there's no 
+virtue whipped out of the court: they cherish it 
+to make it stay there; and yet it will no more 
+but abide. 99 
+
+Aut. Vices, 1 would say, sir. I know this 
+man, well: he hath been since an ape-bearer; 
+then a process-server, a bailiff; then he com- 
+passed a motion of the Prodigal Son, and 
+married a tinker’s wife within a mile where 
+my land and living lies; and, having flown 
+over many knavish professions, he settled only 
+in rogue: some call him Autolycus. 
+
+
+{ fear, 
+
+
+Clo. Out upon him! prig, for my life, prig: 
+he haunts wakes, fairs and bear-baitings. 
+
+Ault. Very true, sir; he, sir, he; that’s the 
+rogue that put me into this apparel. 11 
+
+Clo. Not a more cowardly rogue in all 
+Bohemia: if you had but looked big and spit 
+at him, he Id have run. 
+
+Aut. I must confess to you, sir, | am no 
+fighter: I am false of heart that way; and 
+that he knew, I warrant him. 
+
+Clo. How do you now? 
+
+Aut. Sweet sir, much better than I was; I 
+can stand and walk: | will even take my leave 
+of you, and pace softly towards my kinsman’s, 
+
+Clo. Shall I bring thee on the way? 
+
+Aut. Neo, good-faced sir; no, sweet sir. 
+
+Clo. Then fare thee well: I must go buy 
+spices for our sheep-shearing. 
+
+Aut. Prosper you, sweet sir! [Exit Clown.] 
+Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your 
+spice. I'll be with you at your sheep-shearing 
+too: if I make not this cheat bring out another 
+and the shearers prove sheep, let me be unrolled 
+and my name put in the book of virtue! 131 
+
+[Sings] Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way, 
+
+And merrily hent the stile-a: 
+A merry heart goes all the day, 
+Your sad tires in a mile-a. [Exit. 
+
+
+Scene IV. The Shepherd's cottage. 
+Enter FLorizEL and PERDITA. 
+
+
+Flo. These your unusual weeds to each part 
+of you 
+Do give a life: no shepherdess, but Flora 
+Peering in April's front. This your sheep- 
+shearing 
+Is as a meeting of the petty gods, 
+And you the queen on ’t. 
+
+Per. Sir, my gracious lord, 
+To chide at your extremes it not becomes me: 
+O, pardon, that I name them! Your high self, 
+The gracious mark o’ the land, you have ob- 
+
+
+scured 
+
+With a swain’s wearing, and me, poor lowly 
+maid, 
+
+Most goddess-like prank’d up: but that our 
+feasts 10 
+
+
+In every mess have folly and the feeders 
+Digest it with a custom, I should blush 
+To see you so attired, sworn, I think, 
+
+To show myself a glass. 
+
+Flo. I bless the time 
+When my good falcon made her flight across 
+Thy father’s ground. 
+
+Per. Now Jove afford you cause! 
+To me the difference forges dread; your great- 
+
+ness 
+Hath not been used to fear. Even now I tremble 
+To think your father, by some accident, 
+
+
+390 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+‘[Acr IV, Sc. IV 
+
+
+Should pass this way as you did: O, the Fates! 
+
+How would he look, to see his work so noble 
+
+Vilely bound up? What would he say? Or 
+how 
+
+Should I, in these my borrow’d flaunts, behold 
+
+The sternness of his presence > 
+
+Flo. Apprehend 
+
+Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves, 
+
+Humbling their deities to love, have taken 
+
+The shapes of beasts upon them: Jupiter 
+
+Became a bull, and bellow’d; ihe green 
+Neptune 
+
+A ram, and bleated; and the fire-robed god, 
+
+Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain, 30 
+
+As I seem now. Their transformations 
+
+Were never for a piece of beauty rarer, 
+
+Nor in a way so chaste, since my desires 
+
+Run not before mine honour, nor my lusts 
+
+Burn hotter than my faith. 
+
+Per. O; but, sir, 
+
+Your resolution cannot hold, when ’tis 
+
+Opposed, as it must be, by the power of the 
+ing: 
+
+One of these two must be necessities, 
+
+Which then will speak, that you must change 
+this purpose, 
+
+Or; I my life. 
+
+
+Flo. Thou dearest Perdita, 40 
+With these forced thoughts, I prithee, darken 
+not 
+
+
+The mirth o’ the feast. Or I ‘Il be thine, my fair, 
+Or not my father’s. For I cannot be 
+
+me own, nor any thing to any, if 
+I be not thine. To this I am most constant, 
+Though destiny say no. Be merry, gentle; 
+Strangle such thoughts as these with any thing 
+That you behold the while. Your guests are 
+
+
+coming: 
+Lift up your countenance, as it were the day 
+Of celebration of that nuptial which 50 
+We two have sworn shall come. 
+Per, - O lady Fortune, 
+Stand you auspicious! 
+lo. See, your guests approach: 
+
+
+Address yourself to entertain them sprightly, 
+And let's be xed with mirth. 
+
+
+Enter Shepherd, Clown, Mopsa, Dorcas, and 
+others, with PoLtxENES and CAMILLO dis- 
+guised. 
+
+
+Shep. Fie, daughter! when my old wife 
+
+lived, upon 
+
+This day she was both pantler, butler, cook, 
+
+Both dame and servant; welcomed all, served 
+all; 
+
+Would sing her song and dance her turn; now 
+here, 
+
+At upper end o’ the table, now i’ the middle; 
+
+On his shoulder, and his; her face o’ fire 60 
+
+
+With labour and the thing she took to quench it, 
+She would to each one sip. You are retired, 
+As if you were a feasted one and not 
+The hostess of the meeting: pray you, bid 
+These unknown friends to’s welcome; for it is 
+A way to make us better friends, more known. 
+Come, quench your blushes and present yourself 
+That which you are, mistress o’ the feast: 
+come on, 
+And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing, 
+As your good flock shall prosper. 
+
+Per. [To Pol.] Sir, welcome: 70 
+It is my father’s will I should take on me 
+The hostess-ship 0’ the day. [To Cam. 
+
+You 're welcome, sir. 
+Give me those flowers there, Dorcas. Reverend 
+sirs, 
+For you there ’s rosemary and rue; these keen 
+Seeming and savour all the winter long: 
+Grace and remembrance be to you both, 
+And welcome to our shearing! 
+
+Pol. Shepherdess,— 
+A fair one are you—well you fit our ages 
+With flowers of winter. 
+
+Per. Sir, the year growing ancient, 
+Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth 
+Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o° the 
+
+season 
+Are our carnations and streak’d gillyvors, 
+Which some call nature's bastards: of that kind 
+Our rustic garden's barren; and I care not 
+To get slips of them. 
+
+
+Pol. Wherefore, gentle maiden, 
+Do you neglect them? 
+Per, « For I have heard it said 
+
+
+There is an art which in their piedness shares 
+With great creating nature. 
+Pol. Say there be; 
+Yet nature is made better by no mean 
+But nature makes that mean; so, over that art 
+Which you say adds to nature, is an art 9 
+That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we 
+marry 
+A gentler scion to the wildest stock, 
+And make conceive a bark of baser kind 
+By bud of nobler race: this is an art 
+Which does mend nature, change it rather, but 
+The art itself is nature. 
+Per, So it is. 
+Pol. Then make your garden rich in gilly- 
+vors, 
+And do not call them bastards. 
+
+Per. Ill not put 
+The dibble in earth to set one slip of them; 
+No more than were I painted I would wish 
+This youth should say ‘twere well and only 
+
+therefore 
+Desire to breed by me. Here’s flowers for you; 
+Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram; 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. IV] 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+391 
+
+
+The marigold, that goes to bed wi’ the sun 
+And with him rises weeping: these are flowers 
+Of middle summer, and I think they are given 
+To men of middle age. You ‘re very welcome. 
+Cam. I should leave grazing, were I of 
+your flock, 
+And only live by gazing. 
+er. Out, alas! 
+You 'Id be so’lean, that blasts of January 
+Would blow you through and through. Now, 
+my fair'st friend, : 
+I would I had some flowers o’ the spring tha 
+might 
+Become your time of day; and yours, and yous, 
+That wear upon your virgin branches yet 
+Your maidenheads growing: O Proserpina, 
+For the flowers now, that frighted thou let’st fall 
+From Dis’s waggon! daffodils, 
+That come before the swallow dares, and take 
+The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, 
+_But sweeter than the lids of Juno’s eyes 121 
+Or Cytherea’s breath; pale primroses, 
+That die unmarried, ere they can behold 
+Bright Phcebus in his strength—a malady 
+Most incident to maids: bold oxlips and 
+The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds, 
+The flower-de-luce being one! , these I lack, 
+To make you garlands of, and my sweet friend, 
+To strew him o'er and o'er! 
+
+
+Flo, What, like a corse? 
+Per. No, like a bank for love to lie and 
+play on; 130 
+
+
+Not like a corse; or if, not to be buried, 
+
+But quick and in mine arms. Come, take your 
+flowers: 
+
+Methinks I play as I have seen them do 
+
+In Whitsun pastorals: sure this robe of mine 
+
+Does change my disposition. 
+
+
+Flo. What you do 
+Still betters what is done. When you speak, 
+sweet, 
+
+
+I'ld have you do it ever: when you sing 
+
+I ‘Id have you buy and sell so, so give alms, 
+
+Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs, 
+
+“To sing them too: when you do dance, I wish 
+you 140 
+
+A wave o’ the sea, that you might ever do 
+
+Nothing but that; move still, still so, 
+
+And own no other function: each your doing, 
+
+So singular in each particular, 
+
+Crowns what you are doing in the present deed, 
+
+That all your acts are queens, 
+
+Per... O Doricles, 
+Your praises are too large: but that your youth, 
+And the true blood which peepeth fairly 
+
+through 't, 
+Do plainly give you an unstain’d shepherd, 
+With wisdom I might fear, my Doricles, 
+You woo'd me the false way. 
+
+
+150 
+
+
+110 | 
+
+
+Flo. I think you have 
+As little skill to fear as I have purpose 
+To put you tot. But come; our dance, I pray: 
+Your hand, my Perdita: so turtles pair, 
+That never mean to part, 
+
+
+Per. I'll swear for ‘em. 
+Pol. This is the prettiest low-born lass that 
+ever 
+Ran on the green-sward: nothing she does or 
+seems 
+
+
+But smacks of something greater than herself, 
+Too noble for this place. 
+Cam. He tells her something 
+That makes her blood look out: good sooth, 
+she is 160 
+The queen of curds and cream. 
+Clo, Come on, strike up! 
+Dor. Mopsa must be your mistress: marry, 
+
+
+garlic, 
+To mend her kissing with! 
+Mop. Now, in good time! 
+
+
+Clo. Not a word, a word; we stand upon 
+our manners. 
+Come, strike up! 
+[Music. Here a dance of Shepherds and 
+Shepherdesses. 
+Pol. Pray, good shepherd, what fair swain 
+is this 
+Which dances with your daughter ? 
+Shep. They call him Doricles; and boasts 
+himself 
+To have a worthy feeding: but I have it 
+Upon his own report and I believe it; 170: 
+He looks like sooth. He says he loves my 
+daughter: 
+I think so too; for never gazed the moon 
+Upon the water as he Il stand and read 
+As ‘twere my daughter's eyes: and, to be plain, 
+I think there is not half a kiss to choose 
+Who loves another best. 
+Pol. She dances featly. 
+Shep. So she does any thing; though I re- 
+port it, 
+That should be silent: if young Doricles 
+Do light upon her, she shall bring him that 
+Which he not dreams of. 
+
+
+Enter Servant. 
+
+
+180 
+
+
+Serv. O master, if you did but hear the ped- 
+lar at the door, you would never dance again 
+after a tabor and pipe; no, the bagpipe could 
+not move you: he sings several tunes faster than 
+you ll tell money; he utters them as he had 
+eaten ballads and all men’s ears grew to his 
+tunes. 
+
+Clo. He cculd never come better; he shall 
+come in. I love a ballad but even too well, if 
+it be doleful matter merrily set down, or a very’ 
+pleasant thing indeed and sung lamentably. 
+
+
+392 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+bi 
+EN a 
+
+
+[Act IV, Se. IV 
+
+
+Serv. He hath songs for man or woman, of 
+all sizes; no milliner can so fit his customers 
+with gloves: he has the prettiest love-songs for 
+maids; so without bawdry, which is strange; 
+with such delicate burthens of dildos and 
+fadings, ‘jump her and thump her;’ and where 
+some stretch-mouthed rascal would, as it were 
+mean mischief and break a foul gap into the 
+matter, he makes the maid to answer “Whoop, 
+do me no harm, good man;’ puts him off, 
+slights him, with “Whoop, do me no harm, 
+good man.’ 201 
+
+Pol. This is a brave fellow. 
+
+Clo. Believe me, thou talkest of an admir- 
+able conceited fellow. Has he any unbraided 
+wares >? 
+
+Serv. He hath ribbons of all the colours 1’ 
+the rainbow; points more than all the lawyers 
+in Bohemia can learnedly handle, though they 
+come to him by the gross: inkles, caddisses, 
+cambrics, lawns: why, he sings “em over as 
+they were gods or goddesses; you would think 
+a smock were a she-angel, he so chants to the 
+sleeve-hand and the work about the square on 't. 
+
+Clo. Prithee bring him in; and let him 
+approach singing. 
+
+Per. Forewarn him that he use no scurrilous 
+words in ’s tunes. [Exit Servant. 
+
+Clo. You have of these pedlars, that have 
+more in them than you 'ld think, sister. 
+
+Per. Ay, good brother, or go about to think. 
+
+
+Enter AUTOLYCUS, singing. 
+
+
+Lawn as white as driven snow; 220 
+
+Cyprus black as e’er was crow; 
+
+Gloves as sweet as damask roses; 
+
+Masks for faces and for noses; 
+
+Bugle bracelet, necklace amber, 
+
+Perfume for a lady’s chamber; 
+
+Golden quoifs and stomachers, 
+
+For my lads to give their dears: 
+
+Pins and poking-sticks of steel, 
+
+What maids lack from head to heel: 
+
+Come buy of me, come; come buy, come 
+
+buy; 
+
+Buy, lads, or else your lasses cry: 231 
+
+Come buy. 
+
+Clo. If I were not in love with Mopsa, 
+thou shouldst take no money of me; but being 
+enthralled as I am, it will also be the bondage 
+of certain ribbons and gloves. 
+
+Mop. I was promised them against the 
+feast; but they come not too late now. 
+
+Dor. He hath promised you more than 
+that, or there be liars. 240 
+
+Mop. He hath paid you all he promised 
+you: may be, he has paid you more, which 
+will shame you to give him again. 
+
+Clo. Is there no manners left among maids? 
+
+
+will they wear their plackets where they should 
+bear their faces? 
+when you are going to bed, or kiln-hole, to 
+whistle off these secrets, but you must be tittle- 
+tattling before all our guests? ‘tis well they are 
+whispering: clamour your tongues, and not a 
+word more. / 251 
+
+Mop. 1 have done. Come, you promised 
+me a tawdry-lace and a pair of sweet gloves. 
+
+Clo. Have I not told thee how I was coz- 
+ened by the way and lost all my money ? 
+
+Aut. And indeed, sir, there are cozeners 
+abroad; therefore it behoves men to be wary. 
+
+Clo. Fear not thou, man, thou shalt lose 
+nothing here. 
+
+Aut. I hope so, sir; for I have about me 
+many parcels of charge. 261 
+
+Clo. What hast here? ballads? 
+
+Mop. Pray now, buy some: I love a bal- 
+lad in print o’ life, for then we are sure they 
+are true, 
+
+Aut. Here’s one to a very doleful tune, 
+how a usurer’s wife was brought to bed of 
+twenty money-bags at a burthen and how she 
+longed to eat adders’ heads and toads car- 
+bonadoed. 
+
+Mop. Is it true, think you? 
+
+Aut. Very true, and but.a month old. 270 
+
+Dor. Bless me from marrying a usurer! 
+
+Aut. Here’s the midwife’s name tot, one 
+Mistress Tale-porter, and five or six honest 
+wives that were present. Why should | carry 
+lies abroad? 
+
+Mop. Pray you now, buy it. 
+
+Clo. Come en, lay it by: and let's first see 
+moe ballads; we ll buy the other things anon, 
+
+Aut. Here’s another ballad of a fish, that 
+appeared upon the coast on Wednesday the 
+fourscore of April, forty thousand fathom 
+above water, and sung his ballad against the 
+hard hearts of maids: it was thought she was 
+a woman and was turned into a cold fish for 
+she would not exchange flesh with one that 
+loved her; the ballad is very pitiful and as 
+true. 
+
+Dor. Is it true too, think you? 
+
+Aut. Five justices’ hand at it, and wit- 
+nesses more than my pack will hold. 
+
+Clo. Lay it by too: another. 290 
+
+Aut. This is a merry ballad, but a very 
+pretty one. f 
+
+Mop. Let's have some merry ones. 
+
+Aut. Why, this is a passing merry one and 
+goes to the tune of “Two maids wooing a 
+man:’ there's scarce a maid westward but she 
+sings it; ‘tis in request, I can tell you. 
+
+Mop. We can both sing it: if thou ‘It bear 
+a part, thou shalt hear; ‘tis in three parts, 299 
+
+Dor. We had the tune on’t a month ago. 
+
+
+Toa 
+
+
+Is there not milking-time, - 
+
+
+t 
+
+
+EE ———————— 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+*s 
+
+
+PS Py 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+393 
+
+
+Aut. I can bear my part; you must know 
+‘tis my occupation; have at it with you, 
+
+
+Sone. 
+
+
+A. Get you hence, for I must go 
+Where it fits not you to know. 
+D. Whither? M. O, whither? D. Whither? 
+M. At becomes thy oath full well, 
+Thou to me thy secrets tell. 
+D. Me too, let me go thither. 
+M. Or thou goest to the grange or mill. 
+D. If to either, thou dost ill. 310 
+A, Neither. D. What, neither? 4. Neither. 
+D. Thou hast sworn my love to be. 
+M. Thou hast sworn it more to me: 
+Then whither goest? say, whither? 
+Clo. We'll have this song out anon by 
+ourselves: my father and the gentlemen are 
+in sad talk, and we'll not trouble them. Come, 
+bring away thy pack after me. Wenches, I ‘Il 
+buy for you both. Pedlar, let’s have the first 
+choice. Follow me, girls. 
+[Exit with Dorcas and Mopsa. 
+Aut. And you shall pay well for ‘em. 
+? [Follows singing. 
+Will you buy any tape, 
+Or lace for your cape, 
+My dainty duck, my dear-a? 
+Any silk, any thread, 
+Any toys for your head, 
+Of the new’st and finest, finest wear-a? 
+Come to the pedlar; 
+Money ’s a medler, 
+That doth utter all men’s ware-a. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+
+
+329 
+
+
+Re-enter Servant. 
+
+
+Serv. Master, there is three carters, three 
+shepherds, three neat-herds, three swine-herds, 
+that have made themselves all men of hair, 
+they call themselves Saltiers, and they have a 
+dance which the wenches say is a gallimaufry 
+of gambols, because they are not in’t; but 
+they themselves are o’ the mind, if it be not 
+too rough for some that know little but bowl- 
+ing, it will please plentifully. 339 
+
+Shep. Away! we'll none on't: here has 
+been too much homely foolery already. I 
+know, sir, we weary you. 
+
+Pol. You weary those that refresh us: 
+pray, let's see these four threes of herdsmen. 
+
+Serv. One three of them, by their own re- 
+port, sir, hath danced before the king; and not 
+the worst of the three but jumps twelve foot 
+and a half by the squier. 
+
+Shep. Leave your prating: since these good 
+men are pleased, let them come in; but quickly 
+now. 35] 
+
+Serv. Why, they stay at door, sir. [Exit. 
+
+
+_ Here a dance of twelve Satyrs. 
+Pol. O, father, you'll know more of that 
+
+hereafter. 
+
+[To Cam.] Is it not too far gone? "Tis time 
+to part them. 
+
+He’s simple and tells much. [To Flor.] 
+How now, fair shepherd! 
+
+Your heart is full of something that does take 
+
+Your mind from feasting. Sooth, when I was 
+young 
+
+And handed love as you do, I was wont 
+
+To load my she with knacks: I would have 
+ransack’d 
+
+The pedlar’s silken treasury and have pour'd it 
+
+To her acceptance; you have let him go 36] 
+
+And nothing marted with him. If your lass 
+
+Interpretation should abuse and call this 
+
+Your lack of love or bounty, you were straited 
+
+For a reply, at least if you make a care 
+
+Of happy holding her. 
+
+Flo. Old sir, I know 
+She prizes not such trifles as these are: 
+
+The gifts she looks from me are pack’d and 
+lock'd 
+
+Up in my heart; which I have given already, 
+
+But not deliver’d, O, hear me breathe my 
+life : 
+
+Before this ancient sir, who it should seem, 
+
+Hath sometime loved! I take thy hand, this 
+hand, 
+
+As soft as dove’s down and as white as it 
+
+Or Ethiopian’s tooth, or the fann'd snow that's 
+bolted 
+
+By the northern blasts twice o’er. 
+
+Pol. What follows this? 
+How prettily the young swain seems to wash 
+The hand was fair before! I have put you 
+
+out: 
+But to your protestation; let me hear 
+What you profess. 
+Flo. Do, and be witness to "t. 379 
+Pol. And this my neighbour too? 
+
+
+Flo. And he, and more 
+Than he, and men, the earth, the heavens, 
+and all: 
+That, were crown'd the most imperial mon- 
+arch, 
+
+
+Thereof most worthy, were I the fairest youth 
+
+That ever made eye swerve, had force and 
+knowledge 
+
+More than was ever man’s, I would not prize 
+them 
+
+Without her love; for her employ them all; 
+
+Commend them and condemn them to her 
+
+
+service 
+Or to their own perdition. 
+Pol. Fairly offer'd. 
+
+
+Cam. This shows a sound affection. 
+Shep. But, my daughter, 
+
+
+394 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc. IV 
+
+
+Say you the like to him? 
+
+Per. I cannot speak 390 
+So well, nothing so well; no, nor mean better: 
+By the pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out 
+The purity of his. 
+
+Shep. Take hands, a bargain! 
+And, friends unknown, you shall bear witness 
+
+to 't: 
+I give my daughter to him, and will make 
+Her portion equal his. 
+
+Flo. O, that must be 
+I’ the virtue of your daughter: one being dead, 
+I shall have more than you can dream of yet; 
+Enough then for your wonder. But, come on, 
+Contract us ‘fore those witnesses. 
+
+Shep. Come, your hand; 
+And, daughter, yours. 
+
+Pol. Soft, swain, awhile, beseech you; 
+Have you a father? 
+
+0. I have: but what of him? 
+
+Pol. Knows he of this? 
+
+Flo. He neither does nor shall. 
+Pol. Methinks a father 
+{s at the nuptial of his son a guest 
+That best becomes the table. Pray you once 
+
+more, 
+Is not your father grown incapable 
+Of reasonable affairs? is he not stupid 
+With age and altering rheums? can he speak > 
+hear ? 409 
+Know man from man? dispute his own estate > 
+Lies he not bed-rid? and again does nothing 
+But what he did being childish ? 
+
+Flo. 0, good sir; 
+He has his health and ampler strength indeed 
+Than most have of his age. 
+
+Pol. By my white beard, 
+You offer him, if this be so, a wrong 
+Something unfilial: reason my son 
+Should choose himself a wife, but as good 
+
+reason 
+The father, all whose joy is nothing else 
+But fair posterity, should hold some counsel 
+In such a business. 
+
+Flo. I yield all this; 420 
+But for-some other reasons, my grave sir, 
+Which ‘tis not fit you know, I not acquaint 
+My father of this business. 
+
+
+Pol. Let him know ‘t. 
+Flo. He shall not. 
+
+Pol. Prithee, let him. 
+
+Flo No, he must not. 
+
+
+Shep. Let him, my son: he shall not need 
+to grieve 
+At knowing of thy choice. 
+
+
+Flo. Come, come, he must not. 
+Mark our contract. 
+Pol. Mark your divorce, young sir. 
+
+
+(Discovering himself. 
+
+
+Whom son I dare not call; thou art too base 
+To be acknowledged: thou a sceptre’s heir, 
+That thus affect’st a sheep-hook! Thou old 
+traitor, 
+I am sorry that by hanging thee I can 431 
+But shorten thy life one week. And _ thou, 
+fresh puece 
+Of excellent witchcraft, who of force must 
+know 
+The royal fool thou copest with,— 
+Shep. O, my heart! 
+Pol. I'll have thy beauty scratch’d with 
+briers, and made 
+More homely than thy state. For thee, fond 
+boy, 
+If I may ever know thou dost but sigh 
+That thou no more shalt see this knack, as 
+
+
+never 
+
+I mean thou shalt, we'll bar thee from suc- 
+cession ; 
+
+Not hold thee of our blood, no, not our 
+kin, 440 
+
+
+Far than Deucalion off: mark thou my words: 
+Follow us to the-court. Thou churl, for this 
+
+
+time, 
+
+Though full of our displeasure, yet we free 
+thee 
+
+From the dead blow of it. And you, en- 
+chantment,— 
+
+
+Worthy enough a herdsman; yea, nim too, 
+
+That makes himself, but for our honour 
+therein, 
+
+Unworthy thee,—if ever henceforth thou 
+
+These rural latches to his entrance open, 
+
+Or hoop his body more with thy embraces, 
+
+I will devise a death as cruel for thee 450 
+
+As thou art tender to’t. 
+
+Per. Even here undone! 
+
+I was not much afeard; for once or twice 
+
+I was about to speak and tell him plainly, 
+
+The selfsame sun that shines upon his court 
+
+Hides not his visage from our cottage but 
+
+Looks on alike. Will’t please you, sir, be 
+gone > 
+
+I told you what would come of this: beseech 
+
+' you, 
+
+Of your own state take care: this dream of 
+mine,— 
+
+Being now awake, I'll queen it no inch 
+farther, 
+
+But milk my ewes and weep. 
+
+
+Cam. Why, how now, father! 
+Speak ere thou diest. 
+Shep. I cannot speak, nor think, 
+
+
+Nor dare to know that which I know. O sir! 
+You have undone a man of fourscore three, 
+That thought to fill his grave in quiet, yea, 
+To die upon the bed my father died, 
+
+To lie close by his honest bones: but now 
+
+
+[ Exit. 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. IV] 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+395 
+
+
+' Some hangman must put on my shroud and 
+
+
+lay me 
+
+Where no priest shovels in dust. O cursed 
+wretch, 
+
+That knew’st this was the prince, and wouldst 
+adventure 47| 
+
+
+To mingle faith with him! Undone! undone! 
+If I might die within this hour, I have lived 
+To die when I desire. [Exit. 
+Pome lilo. Why look you so upon me? 
+I am but sorry, not afeard; delay’d, 
+But nothing alter’d: what I was, I am; 
+More straining on for plucking back, not fol- 
+lowing 
+My leash unwillingly. 
+Cam. Gracious my lord, 
+You know your father’s temper: at this time 
+He will allow no speech, which I do guess 
+You do not purpose to him; and as hardly 
+Will he endure your sight as yet, I fear: 480 
+Then, till the fury of his highness settle, 
+Come not before him. 
+
+
+Flo. I not purpose it 
+I think, Camillo? 
+Cam. Even he, my lord. 
+
+
+Per. How often have I told you "twould 
+be thus! 
+How often said, my dignity would last 
+But till ‘twere known! 
+Flo. It cannot fail but by 
+The violation of my faith; and then 
+Let nature crush the sides o’ the earth together 
+And mar the seeds within! Lift up thy looks: 
+From my succession wipe me, father; I 490 
+Am heir to my affection. 
+Cam. Be advised. 
+Flo. I am, and by my fancy: if my reason 
+Will thereto be obedient, I have reason; 
+If not, my senses, better pleased with madness, 
+Do bid it welcome. 
+Cam. This is desperate, sir. 
+Flo. So call it: but it does fulfil my vow; 
+I needs must think it honesty. Camillo, 
+Not for Bohemia, nor the pomp that may 
+Be thereat glean’d, for all the sun sees or 499 
+The close earth wombs or the profound seas 
+hide ; 
+In unknown fathoms, will I break my oath 
+To this my fair beloved: therefore, I pray 
+you, 
+As you have ever been my father's honour'd 
+friend, 
+When he shall miss me,—as, in faith, I mean 
+not 
+To see him any more,—cast your good coun- 
+sels 
+Upon his passion: let myself and fortune 
+Tug for the time to come. This you may 
+know 
+
+
+And so deliver, | am put to sea 
+With her whom here | cannot hold on shore; 
+And most opportune to our need] have 510 
+A vessel rides fast by, but not prepared 
+For this design. What course I mean to hold 
+Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor 
+Concern me the reporting. 
+
+Cam. O my lord! 
+I would your spirit were easier for advice, 
+Or stronger for your need. 
+
+Flo. Hark, Perdita. [Drawing her aside. 
+I'll hear you by and by. 
+
+Cam. He's irremoveable, 
+Resolved for flight. Now were I happy, if 
+His going I could frame to serve my turn, 
+Save him from danger, do him love and 
+
+honour, 
+Purchase the sight again of dear Sicilia 521 
+And that unhappy king, my master, whom 
+I so much thirst to see. 
+
+Flo. Now, good Camillo; 
+I am so fraught with curious business that 
+I leave out ceremony. 
+
+Cam. Sir, I think 
+You have heard of my poor services, i’ the 
+
+love 
+That I have borne your father? 
+
+Flo. Very nobly 
+Have you deserved: it is my father’s music 
+To speak your deeds, not little of his care 
+To have them recompensed as thought on. 
+
+Cam. Well, my lord, 
+If you may please to think I love the king, 531 
+And through him what is nearest to him, 
+
+which is 
+Your gracious self, embrace but my direction: 
+if your more ponderous and settled project 
+May suffer alteration, on mine honour, 
+I'll point you where you shall have such 
+receiving 
+As shall become your highness; where you may 
+Enjoy your mistress, from the whom, I see, 
+There ’s no disjunction to be made, but by— 
+As heavens forfend!—your ruin; marry her, 
+And, with my best endeavours in your absence, 
+Your discontenting father strive to qualify 
+And bring him up to liking. 
+
+Flo. How, Camillo, 
+May this, almost a miracle, be done? 
+
+That I may call thee something more than man 
+And after that trust to thee. 
+
+
+Cam. Have you thought on 
+A place whereto you ‘Il go? 
+Flo. Not any yet: 
+
+
+But as the unthought-on accident is guilty 
+To what we wildly do, so we proféss 
+Ourselves to be the slaves of chance and flies 
+Of every wind that blows. 
+
+Cam. Then list tome: 551 
+
+
+396 
+
+
+This follows, ii you will not change your 
+purpose 
+
+But undergo this flight, make for Sicilia, 
+
+And there present yourself and your fair 
+princess, 
+
+For so I see she must be, ‘fore Leontes: 
+
+She shall be habited as it becomes 
+
+The partner of your bed. Methinks I see 
+
+Leontes opening his free arms and weeping 
+
+His welcomes forth; asks thee the son forgive- 
+
+
+ness, 
+
+As ‘twere 1’ the father’s person; kisses the 
+hands 560 
+
+‘Of your fresh princess; o’er and o'er divides 
+him 
+
+*Twixt his unkindness and his kindness; the 
+one 
+
+
+He chides to hell and bids the other grow 
+Faster than thought or time. 
+
+— Flo: Worthy Camillo, 
+What colour for my visitation shall I 
+
+Hold up before him? 
+
+Cam. Sent by the king your father 
+To greet him and to give him comforts. Sir, 
+The manner of your bearing towards him, with 
+What you as from your father shall deliver, 
+Things known betwixt us three, I ‘ll write you 
+
+down: 570 
+The which shall point you forth at every sitting 
+
+at you must say; that he shall not perceive 
+But that you have your father’s bosom there 
+And speak his very heart. 
+
+
+Flo. I am bound to you: 
+There is some sap in this. 
+Cam. A course more promising 
+
+
+Than a wild dedication of yourselves 
+To unpath’d waters, undream’d shores, most 
+certain 
+To miseries enough; no hope to help you, 
+But as you shake off one to take another; 
+Nothing so certain as your anchors, who 580 
+Do their best office, if they can but stay you 
+Where you 'll be loath to be: besides you know 
+Prosperity ’s the very bond of love, 
+Whose fresh complexion and whose heart to- 
+gether 
+Affliction alters. 
+Per. One of these is true: 
+I think affliction may subdue the cheek, 
+But not take in the mind. 
+
+Cam. Yea, say you so? 
+
+There shall not at your father’s house these 
+seven years 
+Be born another such. 
+
+Flo. My good Camillo, 
+She is as forward of her breeding as 
+7She is i’ the rear our birth. 
+
+Cam. I cannot say ‘tis pity 
+She lacks instructions, for she seems a mistress 
+
+
+590 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+(Act IV, Sc. IV 
+
+
+1 
+To most that teach. 
+
+
+Per. Your pardon, sir; for this 
+I'll blush you thanks. 
+Flo. My prettiest Perdita! 
+
+
+But O, the thorns we stand upon! Camillo, 
+Preserver of my father, now of me, 
+
+The medicine of our house, how shall we do? 
+We are not furnish’d like Bohemia’s sor, 
+Nor shall appear in Sicilia. 
+
+
+Cam. My lord, 
+Fear none of this: I think you know my 
+fortunes 600 
+
+
+Do all lie there: it shall be so my care 
+
+To have you royally appointed as if 
+
+The scene you play were mine. For instance, 
+sir, 
+
+That you may know you shall not want, one 
+
+
+word. [They talk aside. 
+Re-enter AUTOLYCUS. 
+
+
+Aut. Ha, ha! what a fool Honesty is! and 
+Trust, his sworn brother, a very simple gentle- 
+man! I have sold all my trumpery; not a 
+counterfeit stone, not a ribbon, glass, pom- 
+ander, brooch, table-book, ballad, knife, tape, 
+glove, shoe-tie, bracelet, horn-ring, to keep my 
+pack from fasting: they throng who should 
+buy first, as if my trinkets had been hallowed 
+and brought a benediction to the buyer: by 
+which means I saw whose purse was best in 
+picture; and what I saw, to my good use I 
+remembered. My clown, who wants but some- 
+thing to be a reasonable man, grew so in love 
+with the wenches’ song, that he would not stir 
+his pettitoes till he had both tune and words; 
+which so drew the rest of the herd to me 
+that all their other senses stuck in ears: you 
+might have pinched a placket, it was senseless; 
+‘twas nothing to geld a codpiece of a purse; I 
+could have filed keys off that hung in chains: 
+no hearing, no feeling, but my sir’s song, and 
+admiring the nothing of it. So that in this 
+time of lethargy I picked and cut most of their 
+festival purses; and had not the old man come 
+in with a whoo-bub against his daughter and 
+the king’s son and scared my choughs from the 
+chaff, I had not left a purse alive in the whole 
+arm 630 
+[Gentlo, Florizel, and Perdita come forward. 
+
+Cam. Nay, but my letters, by this means 
+
+being there 
+So soon as you arrive, shall clear that ane 
+Flo. And those that you'll procure from 
+King Leontes— 
+Cam. Shall satisfy your father. 
+
+
+mlzers Happy be you! 
+All that you speak shows fair. 
+Cam. Who have we here? 
+
+
+[Seeing Autolycus, 
+
+
+a al 
+
+
+ee a 
+
+
+si 
+
+
+Thus we set on, Camillo, to the sea-side. 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. IV]. 
+
+
+EN, 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+397 
+
+
+We'll make an instrument of this, omit 
+Nothing may give us aid. 
+
+Aut. If they have overheard me now, why, 
+hanging. 
+
+Cam. How now, good fellow! why shakest 
+thou so? Fear not, man; here’s no harm in- 
+tended to thee. 
+
+Aut. | am a poor fellow, sir. 
+
+Cam. Why, be so still; here 's nobody will 
+steal that from thee: yet for the outside of thy 
+poverty we must make an exchange; therefore 
+discase thee instantly,—thou must think there 's 
+a necessity in ’t,—and change garments with 
+this gentleman: though the pennyworth on his 
+side be the worst, yet hold thee, there ’s some 
+boot. 650 
+
+Aut. I am a poor fellow, sir. [Aside] | 
+know ye well enough. 
+
+Cam. Nay, prithee, dispatch: the gentleman 
+is half flayed already. 
+
+Aut. Aye you in earnest, sir? [Aside] I 
+smell the trick on't. 
+
+Flo. Dispatch, I prithee. 
+
+Aut. Indeed, I have had earnest; but I 
+cannot with conscience take it. 
+
+Cam. Unbuckle, unbuckle. 660 
+
+[Florizel and Autolycus exchange garments. 
+Fortunate mistress,—let my prophecy 
+Come home to ye!—you must retire yourself 
+Into some covert: take your sweetheart’s hat 
+And piuck it o’er your brows, muffle your face, 
+Dismantle you, and, as you can, disliken 
+The truth of your own seeming; that you may— 
+For I do fear eyes over—to shipboard 
+Get undescried. 
+
+
+Per. I see the play so lies 
+That I must bear a part. 
+
+Cam. No remedy. 669 
+Have you done there? 
+
+Flo. Should I now meet my father, 
+
+
+He would not call me son. 
+Cam. Nay, you shall have no hat. 
+[Giving it to Perdita. 
+Come, lady, come. Farewell, my friend. 
+
+Aut. Adieu, sir. 
+
+Flo. O Perdita, what have we twain forgot! 
+Pray you, a word. : 
+
+Cam. [Aside] What I do next, shall be to 
+
+tell the king 
+Of this escape and whither they are bound; 
+Wherein my hope is I shall so prevail 
+‘To force him after: in whose company 
+I shell review Sicilia, for whose sight 
+I have a woman's longing. 
+
+Flo. Fortune speed us! 
+681 
+Cam. The swifter speed the better. 
+
+[Exeunt Florizel, Perdita, and Camillo. 
+Aut. I understand the business, I hear it: to 
+
+
+have an open ear, a quick eye, and a nimble 
+hand, is necessary for a cut-purse; a good nose 
+is requisite also, to smell out work for the other 
+senses. I see this is the time that the unjust 
+man doth thrive. What an exchange had this 
+been without boot! What a boot is here with 
+this exchange! Sure the gods do this year 
+connive at us, and we may do any thing ex- 
+tempore. The prince himself is about a piece 
+of iniquity, stealing away from his father with 
+his clog at his heels: if I thought it were a piece 
+of honesty to acquaint the king withal, I would 
+not do't: I hold it the more knavery to con- 
+ceal it; and therein am I| constant to my pro- 
+fession. 
+
+
+Re-enter Clown and Shepherd. 
+
+
+Aside, aside; here is more matter for a hot 
+brain: every lane’s end, every shop, church, 
+session, hanging, yields a careful man work. 
+
+Clo. See, see; what a man you are now! 
+There is no other way but to tell the king 
+she’s a changeling and none of your flesh and 
+blood. 
+
+Shep. Nay, but hear me. 
+
+Clo. Nay, but hear me. 
+
+Shep. Go to, then. 
+
+Clo. She being none of your flesh and blood, 
+your flesh and blood has not offended the king; 
+and so your flesh and blood is not to be punished 
+by him. Show those things you found about 
+her, those secret things, all but what she has 
+with her: this being done, let the law go whistle: 
+I warrant you. 
+
+Shep. I will tell the king all, every word, 
+yea, and his son’s pranks too; who, I may say, 
+is no honest man, neither to his father nor to 
+me, to go about to make me the king’s brother- 
+in-law. 720 
+
+Clo. Indeed, brother-in-law was the farthest 
+off you could have been to him and then your 
+blood had been the dearer by J know how much 
+an ounce. 
+
+Aut. [Aside] Very wisely, puppies! 
+
+Shep. Well, let us to the king: there is that 
+in this fardel will make him scratch his beard. 
+
+Aut. [Aside|I know not what impediment 
+this complaint may be to the flight of my master. 
+
+Clo. Pray heartily he be at palace. 730 
+
+Aut. [Aside]Though I am not naturally 
+honest, I am so sometimes by chance: let me 
+pocket up my pedlar’s excrement. [Takes off 
+his false beard.| How now, rustics! whither 
+are you bound? 
+
+Shep. To the palace. an it like your worship. 
+
+Aut. Your affairs there, what, with whom, 
+the condition of that fardel, the place of your 
+
+
+dwelling, your names, your ages, of what 
+
+
+398 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+[Act IV, Se. IV 
+
+
+having, breeding, and any thing that is fitting 
+to be known, discover. 741 
+
+Clo. We are but plain fellows, sir. 
+
+Aut. A lie; you are rough and hairy. Let 
+me have no lying: it becomes none but trades- 
+men, and they often give us soldiers the lie: but 
+we pay them for it with stamped coin, not 
+stabbing steel; therefore they do not give us 
+the lie. 
+
+Clo. Your worship had like to have given 
+us one, if you had not taken yourself with the 
+manner, 751 
+
+Shep. Arve you a courtier, an’t like you, 
+sir? : 
+
+Aut. Whether it like me or no, I am a 
+courtier. Seest thou not the air of the court 
+in these enfoldings? hath not my gait in it the 
+measure of the court? receives not thy nose 
+court-odour from me? reflect I not on thy base- 
+ness court-contempt? ‘Thinkest thou, for that I 
+insinuate, or }toaze from thee thy business, I am 
+therefore no courtier? | am courtier cap-a-pe; 
+and one that will either push on or pluck back 
+thy business there: whereupon I command thee 
+to open thy affair. 
+
+Shep. My business, sir, is to the king. 
+
+Aut. What advocate hast thou to him? 
+
+Shep. I know not, an’t like you. 
+
+Clo. Advocate 's the court-word for a phea- 
+sant: say you have none. 
+
+Shep. None, sir; I have no pheasant, cock 
+nor hen, 770 
+
+Aut. How blessed are we that are not siraple 
+
+men! 
+Yet nature might have made me as these are, 
+Therefore I will not disdain. 
+
+Clo. This cannot be but a great courtier. 
+
+Shep. His garments are rich, but he wears 
+them not handsomely. 
+
+Clo. He seems to be the more noble in 
+being fantastical: a great man, I ‘Il warrant; | 
+know by the picking on’s teeth. 
+
+Aut, The fardel there? what's i’ the fardel ? 
+Wherefore that box? 78\ 
+
+Shep. Sir, there lies such secrets in this fardel 
+and box, which none must know but the king; 
+and which he shall know within this hour, if I 
+may come to the speech of him, 
+
+Aut. Age, thou hast lost thy labour. 
+
+Shep. Why, sir? 
+
+Aut. The king is not at the palace; he is 
+gone aboard a new ship to purge melancholy 
+and air himself: for, if thou beest capable of 
+things serious, thou must know the king is full 
+of grief. 
+
+Shep. So ‘tis said, sir; about his son, that 
+should have married a shepherd’s daughter. 
+
+Aut. Jf that shepherd be not in hand-fast, 
+let him fly: the curses he shal] have, the tor- 
+
+
+tures he shall feel, will break the back of man, 
+the heart of monster. 
+
+Clo. Think you so, sir? 
+
+Aut. Not he alone shali suffer what wit can 
+make heavy and vengeance bitter; but those that 
+are germane to him, though removed fifty times, 
+shall all come under the hangman: which though 
+it be great pity, yet it is necessary. An old 
+sheep-whistling rogue, a ram-tender, to offer to 
+have his daughter come into grace! Some say 
+he shall be stoned; but that death is too soft for 
+him, say I: draw our throne into a sheep- 
+cote! all deaths are too few, the sharpest too 
+easy. 
+
+Clo. Has the old man e’er a son, sir, do 
+you hear, an’t like you, sir? 810 
+
+Aut. He has a son, who shall be flayed alive; 
+then ‘nointed over with honey, set on the head 
+of a wasp’s nest; then stand till he be three 
+quarters and a dram dead; then recovered again 
+with aqua-vite or some other hot infusion; 
+then, raw as he is, and in the hottest day prog- 
+nostication proclaims, shall he be set against a 
+brick-wall, the sun looking with a southward 
+eye upon him, where he is to behold him with 
+flies blown to death. But what talk we of these 
+traitorly rascals, whose miseries are to be smiled 
+at, their offences being so capital? Tell me, 
+for you seem to be honest plain men, what you 
+have to the king: being something gently con- 
+sidered, I'l] bring you where he is aboard, 
+tender your persons to his presence, whisper 
+him in your behalfs; and if it be in man 
+besides the king to effect your suits, here is 
+man shall do it. 
+
+Clo. He seems to be of great authority: 
+close with him, give him gold; and though 
+authority be a stubborn bear, yet he is oft led’ 
+by the nose with gold: show the inside of your 
+purse to the outside of his hand, and no more: 
+ado. Remember ‘stoned,’ and ‘flayed alive.’ 
+
+Shep. An't please you, sir, to undertake 
+the business for us, here is that gold I have: 
+I'll make it as much more and leave this 
+young man in pawn till I bring it you. 
+
+Aut. After I have done what I promised? 
+
+Shep. Ay, sir. 840: 
+
+Aut. Well, give me the moiety. Are you 
+a party in this business > 
+
+Clo, In some sort, sir: but though my case be. 
+ae one, I hope I shall not be flayed out 
+oF it. 
+
+Aut. O, that’s the case of the shepherd’s 
+son: hang him, he ‘ll be made an example. 
+
+Clo. Comfort, good comfort! We must to 
+the king and show our strange sights: he must 
+know ‘tis none of your daughter nor my sister; 
+we are gone else. Sir, I will give you as much 
+as this old man does when the business is per- 
+
+
+Act V, Se. I] 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+399 
+
+
+formed, and remain, as he says, your pawn till 
+it be brought you. 
+
+Aut. I will trust you. Walk before toward 
+the sea-side; go on the right hand: I will but 
+look upon the hedge and follow you. 
+
+Clo. We are blest in this man, as I may 
+say, even blest. 
+
+Shep. Let’s before as he bids us: he was 
+provided to do us good. 
+
+[Exeunt Shepherd and Clown, 
+
+Aut. If [ hada mind to be honest, I see For- 
+tune would not suffer me: she drops booties in 
+my mouth. I am courted now with a double 
+occasion, gold and a means to do the prince my 
+master good; which who knows how that may 
+turn back to my advancement? I will bring these 
+two moles, these blind ones, aboard him: if he 
+think it fit to shore them again and that the 
+complaint they have to the king concerns him 
+nothing, let him call me rogue for being so far 
+officious; for I am proof against that title and 
+what shame else belongs tot. To him will I 
+present them: there may be matter in it. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+ACT V. 
+
+
+Scene I. A room in LEonTEs’ palace. 
+
+
+Enter LEONTES, CLEOMENES, DION, PAULINA, 
+and Servants. 
+
+
+Cleo. Sir, you have done enough, and have 
+perform'd 
+A saint-like sorrow: no fault could you make, 
+Which you have not redeem'd; indeed, paid 
+down 
+More penitence than done trespass: at the last, 
+Do as the heavens have done, forget your evil; 
+With them forgive yourself. 
+
+Leon. Whilst I remember 
+Her and her virtues, I cannot forget 
+My blemishes in them, and so still think of 
+The wrong I did myself; which was so much, 
+That heirless it hath made my kingdom and 
+Destroy’d the sweet’st companion that e’er man 
+Bred his hopes out of. 
+
+Paul. True, too true, my lord: 
+If, one by one, you wedded all the world, 
+Or from the all that are took something good, 
+To make a perfect woman, she you kill’d 
+Would be unparallel'd. 
+
+Leon. I think so. Kill’d. 
+She I kill’d! { did so: but thou strikest me 
+Sorély, to say I did; it is as bitter 
+Upon thy tongue as in my thought: now, good 
+
+
+now, 
+_ Say so but seldom. 
+Cleo. Not at all, good lady: 20 
+
+
+You might have spoken a thousand things that 
+woule 
+
+
+Have done the time more benefit and graced 
+Your kindness better. 
+
+Paul. You are one of those 
+Would have him wed again. 
+
+Dion, If you would not so, 
+You pity not the state, nor the remembrance 
+Of his most sovereign name; consider little 
+What dangers, by his highness’ fail of issue, 
+May drop upon his kingdom and devour 
+Incertain lookers on. What were more holy 
+Than to rejoice the former queen is well? 30 
+What holier than, for royalty’s repair, 
+
+For present comfort and for future good, 
+To bless the bed of majesty again 
+With a sweet fellow to 't? 
+
+Paul. There is none worthy, 
+Respecting her that’s gone. Besides, the gods 
+Will have fulfill'd their secret purposes; 
+
+For has not the divine Apollo said, 
+
+Is “t not the tenour of his oracle, 
+
+That King Leontes shall not have an heir 
+
+Till his lost child be found? which that it shall, 
+
+Is all as monstrous to our human reason 41 
+
+As my Antigonus to break his grave 
+
+And come again to me; who, on my life, 
+
+Did perish with the infant. "Tis your counsel 
+
+My lord should to the heavens be contrary, 
+
+Oppose against their wills. [Zo Leontes.] 
+Care not for issue; 
+
+The crown will find an heir: great Alexander 
+
+I eft his to the worthiest; so his successor 
+
+Was like to be the best. 
+
+Leon. Good Paulina, 
+
+Who hast the memory of Hermione, 
+
+I know, in honour, O, that ever I 
+
+Had squared me to thy counsel! then, even 
+now, 
+
+I might have look’d upon my queen's full eyes, 
+
+Have taken treasure from her lips— 
+
+Paul. And left them 
+More rich for what they yielded. 
+
+Leon. Thou speak’st truth. 
+No more such wives; therefore, no wife: one 
+
+worse, 
+And better used, would make her sainted spirit 
+Again possess her corpse, and on this stage, 
+Where we ‘re offenders now, appear soul-vex’d, 
++And begin, “Why to me?’ 
+
+Paul. Had she such power, 60 
+She had just cause. 
+
+Leon. She had; and would incense me 
+To murder her I married. 
+
+Paul. I should so. 
+
+Were I the ghost that walk’d, I ‘Id bid you mark 
+
+Her eye, and tell me for what dull part in 't 
+
+You chose her; then I 'Id shriek, that even 
+your ears 
+
+Should rift to hear me; and the words that 
+follow'd 
+
+
+50 
+
+
+400 
+
+
+Should be ‘Remember mine.” 
+
+
+Leon. Stars, stars, 
+And all eyes else dead coals! Fear thou no 
+wife; 
+I'll have no wife, Paulina. 
+Paul. Will you swear 
+
+
+Never to marry but by my free leave> 70 
+Leon. Never, Paulina; so be blest my spirit! 
+Paul. Then, good my lords, bear witness to 
+
+his oath. 
+
+Cleo. You tempt him over-much. 
+
+Paul. Unless another, 
+As like Hermione as is her picture, 
+
+Affronts his eye. 
+
+Cleo. Good madam,— 
+
+Paul. I have done. 
+Yet, if my lord will marry,—if you will, sir, 
+No remedy, but you will,—give me the office 
+To choose you a queen: she shall not be so 
+
+young 
+
+As was your former; but she shall be such 
+
+As, walk’d your first queen’s ghost, it see 
+
+
+take joy 
+To see her in your arms. 
+Leon. My true Paulina, 
+
+
+We shall not marry till thou bid’st us. 
+Paul. That 
+Shall be when your first queen’s again in 
+breath; 
+Never till then. 
+
+
+Enter a Gentleman. 
+
+
+Gent. One that gives out himself Prince 
+Florizel, 
+Son of Polixenes, with his princess, she 
+The fairest I have yet beheld, desires access 
+To your high presence. 
+
+Leon. What with him? he comes not 
+Like to his father’s greatness: his approach, 
+So out of circumstance and sudden, tells us 90 
+‘Tis not a visitation framed, but forced 
+By need and accident. What train? 
+
+Gent. But few, 
+And those but mean. 
+
+Leon. His princess, say you, with him? 
+
+Gent. Ay, the most peerless piece of earth, 
+
+I think, 
+That e’er the sun shone bright on. 
+
+Paul. O Hermione, 
+As every present time doth boast itself 
+Above a better gone, so must thy grave 
+Give way to what ’s seen now! Sir, you yourself 
+Have said and writ so, but your writing now 
+Is colder than that theme, ‘She had not been, 
+Nor was not to be equall’d;’—thus your verse 
+Flow’d with her beauty once: ‘tis shrewdly 
+
+
+ebo'd, 
+To say you have seen a better. 
+(Coat, Pardon, madam: 
+
+
+! 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+——— a 
+
+
+The one [ have almost forgot,—your pardon,— 
+The other, when she has obtain’d your eye, 
+Will have your tongue too. This is a creature, 
+Would she begin a sect, might quench the zeal 
+Of all professors else, make proselytes 
+
+
+Of who she but bid follow. 
+
+
+Paul. How! not women? 
+Gent. Women will love her, that she is a 
+woman 110 
+
+
+More worth than any man; men, that she is 
+The rarest of all women. 
+
+Leon. Go, Cleomenes; 
+Yourself, assisted with your honour’d friends, 
+Bring them to our embracement. Still, ‘tis 
+
+strange [Exeunt Cleomenes and others. 
+He thus should steal upon us. 
+
+Paul. Had our prince, 
+Jewel of children, seen this hour, he had pair’d 
+Well with this lord: there was not full a month 
+Between their births. 
+
+Leon. Prithee, no more; cease; thou know’'st 
+He dies to me again when talk’d of: sure, 120 
+When I shall see this gentleman, thy speeches 
+Will bring me to consider that which may 
+Unfurnish me of reason. They are come. 
+
+
+Re-enter CLEOMENEs and others, with 
+FLorizEL and PERDITA. 
+
+
+Your mother was most true to wedlock, prince; 
+For she did print your royal father off, 
+Conceiving you: were I but twenty one, 
+Your father’s image is so hit in you, 
+
+His very air, that I should call you brother, 
+As I did him, and speak of something wildly 
+By us perform'd béfore. Most dearly welcome! 
+And your fair princess,—goddess!—O, alas! 
+I lost a couple, that ‘twixt heaven and earth 
+Might thus have stood begetting wonder as 
+You, gracious couple, do: and then I lost— 
+All mine own folly—the society, 
+
+Amity too, of your brave father, whom, 
+Though bearing misery, I desire my life 
+Once more to look on him. 
+
+Flo. By his command 
+Have I here touch’d Sicilia and from him 
+Give you all greetings that a king, at friend, 
+Can send his brother: and, but infirmity 
+Which waits upon worn times hath something 
+
+seized 
+His wish’d ability, he had himself 
+The lands and waters ‘twixt your throne and his 
+Measured to look upon you; whom he loves— 
+He bade me say so—more than all the sceptres 
+And those that bear them living. 
+
+Leon. O my brother, 
+
+Good gentleman! the wrongs I have done thee 
+stir 
+
+Afresh within me, and these thy offices, 
+
+So rarely kind, are as interpreters (50 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. I 
+
+
+. 
+a —— 
+
+
+ett ait bite ta’? 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+Ss, 
+
+
+Ne 
+sea 
+
+
+~ Act V, Sc. I] 
+y ( 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+401 
+
+
+_ Of my behind-hand slackness. Welcome hither, 
+As is the spring to the earth. And hath he too 
+
+_ Exposed this paragon to the fearful usage, 
+At least ungentle, of the dreadful Neptune, 
+To greet a man not worth her pains, much less 
+The adventure of her person ? 
+
+
+Flo. Good my lord, 
+She came from Libya. 
+Leon. Where the warlike Smalus, 
+
+
+That noble honour’d lord, is fear'd and loved? 
+
+Flo. Most royal sir, from thence; from 
+him, whose daughter 
+
+His tears proclaim’d his, parting with her: 
+
+
+thence, 160 
+A prosperous south-wind friendly, we have 
+cross'd, 
+
+
+To execute the charge my father gave me 
+For visiting your highness: my best train 
+
+I have from your Sicilian shores dismiss'd; 
+Who for Bohemia bend, to signify 
+
+Not only. my success in Libya, sir, 
+
+But my arrival and my wife’s in safety 
+
+Here where we are. 
+
+Leon. The blessed gods 
+
+Purge all infection from our air whilst you 
+Do climate here! You have a holy father, 
+A graceful gentleman; against whose person, 
+So sacred as it is, | have done sin: 
+
+For which the heavens, taking angry note, 
+Have left me issueless; and your father ’s blest, 
+_As he from heaven merits it, with you 
+Worthy his goodness. What might! have been, 
+Might I ason and daughter now have look’d on, 
+Such goodly things as you! 
+
+
+Enter a Lord. 
+
+
+Lord. - Most noble sir, 
+That which I shall report will bear no credit, 
+Were not the proof so nigh. Please you, 
+
+great sir, 180 
+Bohemia greets you from himself by me; 
+Desires you to attach his son, who has— 
+
+His dignity and duty both cast off— 
+Fled from his father, from his hopes, and with 
+A shepherd's daughter. 
+
+Leon. Where ’s Bohemia? speak. 
+
+Lord. Here in your city; | now came from 
+
+him: 
+
+I speak amazedly; and it becomes 
+
+My marvel and my message. To your court 
+Whiles he was hastening, in the chase, it seems, 
+Of this fair couple, meets he on the way 190 
+The father of this seeming lady and 
+
+Her brother, having both their country quitted 
+With this young prince. 
+
+Flo. Camillo has betray’d me; 
+Whose honour and whose honesty till now 
+Endured all weathers, 
+
+
+Lord. Lay 't so to his charge: 
+He’s with the king your father. 
+Leon. Who? Camillo? 
+Lord. Camillo, sir; I spake with him; who 
+now 
+Has these poor men in question, Never saw | 
+Wretches so quake: they kneel, they kiss the 
+earth: 
+Forswear themselves as often as they speak: 
+Bohemia stops his ears, and threatens them 
+With divers deaths in death. 
+Per, O my poor father! 
+The heaven spies upon us, will not have 
+Our contract celebrated. 
+Leon, You are married? 
+ae We are not, sir, nor are we like to 
+e; 
+The stars, I see, will kiss the valleys first: 
+The odds for high and low’s alike. 
+Leon. My lord, 
+Is this the daughter of a king? 
+Flo. She is, 
+When once she is my wife. 
+Leon. That ‘once,’ I see by your good 
+father’s speed, 210 
+Will come on very slowly. I am sorry, 
+Most sorry, you have broken from his liking 
+
+
+| Where you were tied in duty, and as sorry 
+
+
+Your choice is not so rich in worth as beauty, 
+That you might well enjoy her. 
+Flo. Dear, look up: 
+Though Fortune, visible an enemy, 
+Should chase us with my father, power no jot 
+Hath she to change our loves. Beseech you, 
+sir, 
+Remember since you owed no more to time 
+Than [ do now: with thought of such affec- 
+tions, 
+Step forth mine advocate; at your request 
+My father will grant precious things as trifles. 
+Leon. Would he do so, I Id beg your 
+precious mistress, 
+
+
+Which he counts but a trifle. 
+
+
+Paul. Sir, my liege, 
+Your eye hath too much youth in't; not a 
+month 
+‘Fore your queen died, she was more worth 
+such gazes 
+Than what you look on now. 
+Leon. I thought of her, 
+
+
+Even in these looks I made. 
+But your petition 
+
+Is yet unanswer'd. I will to your father: 
+
+Your honour not o’erthrown by. your desires, 
+
+I am friend to them and you: upon which 
+errand 
+
+I now go toward him; therefore follow me 
+
+And mark what way I make: come, good my 
+
+
+lord. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+[To Florizel.] 
+
+
+402 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+[Acr V, Sc, Il 
+
+
+Scene II. Before Leontes’ palace. 
+Enter AutoLycus and a Gentleman. 
+
+
+Aut. Beseech you, sir, were you present at 
+this relation > 
+
+First Gent. 1 was by at the opening of the 
+fardel, heard the old shepherd deliver the 
+manner how he found it: whereupon, after a 
+little amazedness, we were ali commanded out 
+of the chamber; only this methought I heard 
+the shepherd say, he found the child. 
+
+Aut. I would most gladly know the issue 
+of it. 9 
+
+First Gent. | make a broken delivery of the 
+business; but the changes I perceived in the 
+king and Camillo were very notes of admira- 
+tion: they seemed almost, with staring on one 
+another, to tear the cases of their eyes; there 
+was speech in their dumbness, language in their 
+very gesture; they looked as they had heard 
+of a world ransomed, or one destroyed: a not- 
+able passion of wonder appeared in them; but 
+the wisest beholder, that knew no more but 
+seeing, could not say if the importance were 
+joy or sorrow; but in the extremity of the one, 
+it must needs be. 
+
+
+Enter another Gentleman. 
+
+
+Here comes a gentleman that haply knows 
+more. The news, Rogero? 
+
+Sec. Gent. Nothing but bonfires: the oracle 
+is fulfilled; the king's daughter is found: such a 
+deal of wonder is broken out within this hour 
+that ballad-makers cannot be able to express it. 
+
+
+Enter a third Gentleman. 
+
+
+Here comes the Lady Paulina’s steward: he can 
+deliver you more. How goes it now, sir? this 
+news which is called true is so like an old tale, 
+that the verity of it is in strong suspicion: has 
+the king found his heir > 
+
+Third Gent. Most true, if ever truth were 
+pregnant by circumstance: that which you 
+hear you'll swear you see, there is such unity 
+in the proofs. The matter of Queen Hermione’s, 
+her jewel about the neck of it, the letters of 
+Antigonus found with it which they know to 
+be his character, the majesty of the creature in 
+resemblance of the mother, the affection of 
+nobleness which nature shows above her breed- 
+ing, and many other evidences proclaim her 
+with all certainty to be the king’s daughter. 
+
+
+Did you see the meeting of the two kings? 
+Sec. Gent. No. 
+
+
+Third Gent. Then have you lost a sight, | 
+
+
+which was to be seen, cannot be spoken of. 
+There might you have beheld one joy crown 
+another, so and in such manner that it seemed 
+sorrow wept to take leave of them, for their 
+joy waded in tears. There was casting up of 
+
+
+eyes, holding up of hands, with countenance of 
+such distraction that they were to be known by 
+garment, not by favour. Our king, being ready 
+to leap out of himself for joy of his found 
+daughter, as if that joy were now become a loss, 
+cries ‘O, thy mother, thy mother!’ then asks 
+Bohemia forgiveness; then embraces his son- 
+in-law; then again worries he his daughter with 
+clipping her; now he thanks the old shepherd, 
+which stands by like a weather-bitten’ conduit 
+of many kings’ reigns. I never heard of such 
+another encounter, which lames report to follow 
+it and undoes description to do it. 
+
+Sec. Gent. What, pray you, became of 
+Antigonus, that carried hence the child? 
+
+Third Gent. Like an old tale still, which 
+will have matter to rehearse, though credit be 
+asleep and not an ear open. He was torn to 
+pieces with a bear: this avouches the shepherd's 
+son; who has not only his innocence, which 
+seems much, to justify him, but a handkerchief 
+and rings of his that Paulina knows. 
+
+First Gent. What became of his bark and 
+his followers ? 
+
+Third Gent. Wrecked the same instant of 
+their master’s death and in the view of the 
+shepherd: so that all the instruments which 
+aided to expose the child were even then lost 
+when it was found. But O, the noble combat 
+that “twixt joy and sorrow was fought in 
+Paulina! She had one ey2 declined for the 
+loss of her husband, another elevated that the 
+oracle was fulfilled: she lifted the princess 
+from the earth, and so locks her in embracing, 
+as if she would pin her to her heart that she 
+might no more be in danger of losing. 
+
+First Gent. The dignity of this act was 
+worth the audience of kings and princes; for 
+by such was it acted. 
+
+Third Gent. One of the prettiest touches 
+of all and that which angled for mine eyes, 
+caught the water though not the fish, was when, 
+at the relation of the queen's death, with the 
+manner how she came to't bravely confessed 
+and lamented by the king, how attentiveness 
+wounded his daughter; till, from one sign of 
+dolour to another, she did, with an ‘Alas,’ I 
+would fain say, bleed tears, for | am sure my 
+heart wept blood. Who was most marble there 
+changed colour; some swooned, all sorrowed: 
+if all the world could have seen ‘t, the woe 
+had been universal. 100 
+
+First Gent. Are they returned to the court? 
+
+Third Gent. No: the princess hearing of 
+her mother’s statue, which is in the keeping of 
+Paulina,—a piece many years in doing and now 
+newly performed by that rare Italian master, 
+Julio Romano, who, had he himself eternity 
+and could put breath into his work, would 
+
+) 
+
+
+eT ee a es 
+
+
+om <a tee he “pe 
+
+
+ep nrer e 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. HI] 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 2 
+
+
+———— 
+
+
+beguile Nature of her custom, so perfectly he 
+is her ape: he so near to Hermione hath done 
+Hermione that they say one would speak to her 
+and stand in hope of answer: thither with all 
+greediness of affection are they gone, and there 
+they intend to sup. 
+
+Sec. Gent. I thought she had some great 
+matter there in hand; for she hath privately 
+twice or thrice a day, ever since the death of 
+Hermione, visited that removed house. Shall 
+we thither and with our company piece the 
+rejoicing > 
+
+First Gent. Who would be thence that has 
+the benefit of access? every wink of an eye 
+some new grace will be born: our absence 
+makes us unthrifty to our knowledge. Let's 
+along. [Exeunt Gentlemen. 
+
+Aut. Now, had I not the dash of my former 
+life in me, would preferment drop on my head. 
+I brought the old man and his son aboard the 
+
+
+_ prince; told him I heard them talk of a fardel 
+
+
+and I know not what: but he at that time, 
+over-fond of the shepherd's daughter, so he then 
+took her to be, who began to be much sea-sick, 
+and himself little better, extremity of weather 
+continuing, this mystery remained undiscovered. 
+But ‘tis all one to me; for had I been the finder 
+out of this secret, it would not have relished 
+among my other discredits. 
+
+
+Enter Shepherd and Clown. 
+
+
+Here come those I have done good to against 
+my will, and already appearing in the blossoms 
+of their fortune. 
+
+Shep. Come, boy; I am past moe children, 
+but thy sons and daughters will be all gentle- 
+men born. 
+
+Clo. You are well met, sir. You denied to 
+fight with me this other day, because I was no 
+gentleman born. See you these clothes? sav 
+you see them not and think me still no gentle- 
+man born: you were best say these robes are 
+not gentlemen born: give me the lie, do, and 
+try whether I am not now a gentleman born. 
+
+Aut. | know you are now, sir, a gentleman 
+born. . 
+
+Clo. Ay, and have been so any time these 
+four hours. 
+
+Shep. And so have J, boy. 149 
+
+Clo. So you have: but I was a gentleman 
+born before my father; for the king’s son took 
+me by, the hand, and called me brother; and 
+then the two kings called my father brother; 
+and then the prince my brother and the princess 
+my sister called my father father; and so we 
+wept, and there was the first gentleman-like 
+tears that ever we shed. 
+
+Shep. We may live, son, to shed many more. 
+
+
+Clo. Ay; or else 'twere hard luck, being in 
+so preposterous estate as we are. 159 
+
+Aut. I humbly beseech you sir, to pardon 
+me all the faults | have committed to your 
+worship and to give me your good report te 
+the prince my master. 
+
+Shep. Prithee, son, do; for we must be 
+gentle, now we are gentlemen. 
+
+Clo. Thou wilt amend thy life? 
+
+Aut. Ay, an it like your good worship. 
+
+Clo. Give me thy hand: I will swear to the 
+prince thou art as honest a true fellow as any 
+is in Bohemia. 170 
+
+Shep. You may say it, but not swear it. 
+
+Clo. Not swear it, now I am a gentleman? 
+Let boors and franklins say it, I “ll swear it. 
+
+Shep. How if it be false, son? 
+
+Clo. If it ne'er so false, a true gentieman 
+may swear it in the behalf of his friend; and 
+I "Il swear to the prince thou art a tall fellow 
+of thy hands and that thou wilt not be drunk; 
+but I know thou art no tall fellow of thy 
+hands and that thou wilt be drunk: but I Il 
+swear it, and I would thou wouldst be a tall 
+fellow of thy hands. 
+
+Aut. I will prove so, sir, to my power. 
+
+Clo. Ay, by any means prove a tall fellow: 
+if I do not wonder how thou darest venture to 
+be drunk, not being a tall fellow, trust me not. 
+Hark! the kings and the princes, our kindred, 
+are going to see the queen’s picture. Come, 
+follow us: we ‘Il be thy good masters. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene JII. A chapel in Pauwina’s house. 
+
+
+Enter LEonNTES, PoLtxENEs, FiLorizEL, PER- 
+DITA, CAMILLO, PAULINA, Lords, and At- 
+tendants. 
+
+
+Leon. O grave and good Paulina, the great 
+
+
+comfort 
+That I have had of thee! 
+Paul. What, sovereign, sir, 
+
+
+I did not well I meant well. All my services 
+You have paid home: but that you have 
+
+
+vouchsafed, 
+
+With your crown’d brother and these your 
+contracted 
+
+Heirs of your kingdoms, my poor house to 
+visit, 
+
+
+It is a surplus of your grace, which never 
+My life may last to answer. 
+
+Leon. ~ O Paulina, 
+We honour you with trouble: but we came 
+To see the statue of our queen: your gallery 
+Have we pass'd through, not without much 
+
+content 
+
+In many singularities; but we saw not 
+That which my daughter came to look upon, 
+The statue of her mother. 
+
+Paul. As she lived peerless, 
+
+
+j 
+
+
+404 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+[Acr V, Sc. fl 
+
+
+So her dead likeness, I do well believe, 
+
+Excels whatever yet you look'd upon 
+
+Or hand of man hath done; therefore I keep 
+it 
+
+Lonely, apart. But here it is: prepare 
+
+To see the life as lively mock’d as ever 
+
+Still sleep mock’d death: behold, and ‘say ‘tis 
+well. [Paulina draws a curtain, and dis- 
+
+covers Hermione standing like a statue. 
+I like your silence, it the more shows off 21 
+Your wonder: but yet speak; first, you, my 
+
+
+liege. 
+Comes it not something near? 
+Leon. Her natural posture! 
+
+
+Chide me, dear stone, that I may say indeed 
+Thou art Hermione; or rather, thou art she 
+In thy not chiding, for she was as tender 
+
+As infancy and grace. But yet, Paulina, 
+Hermione was not so much wrinkled, nothing 
+So aged as this seems. 
+
+
+Pol. O, not by much. 
+Paul. So much the more our carver’s excel- 
+lence; 30 
+Which lets go by some sixteen years and 
+makes her 
+As she lived now. 
+Leon, As now she might have done, 
+
+
+So much to my good comfort, as it is 
+
+Now piercing to my soul, O, thus she: stood, 
+
+Even with such life of majesty, warm life, 
+
+As now it coldly stands, when first I woo'd 
+her! 
+
+I am ashamed: does not the stone rebuke 
+me 
+
+For being more stone than it? O royal piece, 
+
+There ‘s magic in thy majesty, which has 
+
+My evils conjured to remembrance and 40 
+
+From thy admiring daughter took the spirits, 
+
+Standing like stone with thee. 
+
+Per. And give me leave, 
+And do not say ‘tis superstition, that ~ 
+I kneel and then implore her blessing. Lady, 
+Dear queen, that ended when | but began, 
+Give me that hand of yours to kiss. 
+
+Paul. O, patience! 
+The statue is but newly fix’d, the colour ’s 
+Not dry. 
+
+Cam. My lord, your sorrow was too sore 
+
+laid, on, 
+Which sixteen winters cannot blow away, 50 
+So many summers dry: scarce any joy 
+Did ever so long live; no sorrow 
+But kill'd itself much sooner. 
+
+Pol. Dear my brother, 
+Let him that was the cause of this have power 
+To take off so much grief from you as he 
+Will piece up in himself. 
+
+Paul. Indeed, my lord, 
+
+If I had thought the sight of my poor image 
+
+
+Would thus have wrought you,—for the stone 
+
+
+is mine— 
+I ‘Id not have show’d it. ’ 
+Leon, Do not draw the curtain, | 
+
+
+Paul. No longer shall you gaze ont, lest 
+your fancy 60 
+May think anon it moves. 
+Leon. Let be, let be. 
+Would I were dead, but that, methinks, al- 
+ready— 
+What was he that did make it? See, my lord, 
+Would you not deem it breathed? and that 
+those veins 
+Did verily bear blood? 
+Pol. Masterly done. 
+The very life seems warm upon her lip. 
+Leon. The fixture of her eye has motion 
+
+
+in 't, 
+As we are mock’d with art. 
+Paul. I ‘ll draw the curtain: 
+
+
+My Jord’s almost so far transported that 
+He ‘ll think anon it lives. 
+
+Leon. O sweet Paulina, 
+Make me to think so twenty years together! 
+No settled senses of the world can match 
+The pleasure of that madness. Let ’t alone. 
+
+Paul. | am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirr’d 
+
+you: but 
+
+I could afflict you farther. 
+
+Leon. Do, Paulina; 
+
+For this affliction has a taste as sweet 
+
+As any cordial comfort. Still, methinks, 
+
+There is an air comes from her: what fine 
+chisel 
+
+Could ever yet ¢ut breath? 
+
+
+70 
+
+
+Let no man mock 
+
+
+me, 
+For I will kiss her. 
+Paul. Good my lord, forbear: 
+The ruddiness upon her lip is wet; 
+You'll mar it if you kiss it, stain your own 
+With oily painting. Shall I draw the curtain? 
+Leon... No, not these twenty years. 
+
+
+80 
+
+
+Per. So long could I 
+Stand by a looker on, 
+Paul. Either forbear, 
+
+
+Quit presently the chapel, or resolve you 
+For more amazement. If you can behold it, 
+I "ll make the statue move indeed, descend 
+And take you by the hand: but then you'll 
+think— 
+Which I protest against—I am assisted 90 
+By wicked powers. 
+Leon. What can you make her do. 
+I am content to look on: what to speak, 
+I am content to hear; for ‘tis as easy 
+To make her speak as move. 
+Paul. It is required 
+You do awake your faith. Then all stanx 
+still; 
+
+
+one 
+
+
+eS ee eee 
+
+
+\.. Leon. 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+‘Act V, Sc. II] 
+
+
+On: those that think it unlawful business 
+1 am about, let them depart. 
+Leon. Proceed: 
+No foot shall stir. 
+Paul. Music, awake her; strike! [Music. 
+"Tis time; descend; be stone no more; ap- 
+proach; 
+Strike all that look upon with marvel. Come, 
+I'll fill your grave up: stir, nay, come away, 
+Bequeath to death your numbness, for from 
+him : 
+Dear life redeems you. You perceive she stirs: 
+[Herinione comes down. 
+Start not; her actions shall be holy as 
+You hear my spell is lawful: do not shun her 
+Until you see her die again; for then 
+You kill her double. Nay, present your hand: 
+When she was young you woo'd her; now in 
+age 
+Is she become the suitor? 
+O, she's warm! 
+If this be magic, let it be an art 
+Lawful as eating. 
+Pol. She embraces him. 
+Cam. She hangs about his neck: 
+If she pertain to life let her speak too. 
+Pol. Ay, and make’t manifest where she 
+
+
+has lived, 
+Or how stolen from the dead. 
+* Paul. That she is living, 
+
+
+Were it but told you, should be hooted at 
+Like an old tale: but it appears she lives, 
+Though yet she speak not. Mark a little while. 
+Please you to interpose, fair madam: kneel 
+And pray your mother’s blessing. Turn, good 
+
+
+lady ; 120 
+Our Perdita is found. 
+Her. You gods, look down 
+
+
+And from your sacred vials pour your graces 
+Upon my daughter's head! Tell me, mine 
+own, 
+
+
+THE WINTER'S TALE 
+
+
+405 
+
+
+Where hast thou been preserved? where lived ? 
+how found 
+
+Thy father’s court? for thou shalt hear that I, 
+
+Knowing by Paulina that the oracle 
+
+Gave hope thou wast in being, have preserved 
+
+Myself to see the issue. 
+
+Paul. There ’s time enough for that; 
+
+Lest they desire upon this push to trouble 
+Your joys with like relation. Go together, 130 
+You precious winners all; your exultation 
+Partake to every one. I, an old turtle, 
+Will wing me some wither'd bough and there 
+My mate, that’s never to be found again, 
+Lament tll I am lost. 
+
+Leon. O, peace, Paulina! 
+
+
+Thou shouldst a husband take by my consent, 
+As I by thine a wife: this is a match, 
+And made between’s by vows. Thou hast 
+found mine; 
+But how, is to be question’d; for I saw her, 
+As I thought, dead, and have in vain said 
+| many 140 
+4 prayer upon her grave. I ‘Il not seek far— 
+
+
+sf ox him, | partly know his mind—to find thee 
+
+
+Aw honourable husband. Come, Camillo, 
+
+And take her by the hand, whose worth and 
+honesty 
+
+Is richly noted and here justified 
+
+By us, a pair of kings. Let’s from this place. 
+
+What! look upon my brother: both your par- 
+dons, 
+
+That e’er I put between your holy looks 
+
+My ill suspicion. This is your son-in-law 149 
+
+And son unto the king, who, heavens directing, 
+
+Is troth-plight to your daughter. Good Paulina, 
+
+Lead us from hence, where we may leisurely 
+
+Each one demand and answer to his part 
+
+pee in this wide gap of time since 
+
+rst 
+We were dissever'd: hastily lead away. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+THE LiFE AND DEATH OF 
+
+
+KING 
+
+
+JOHN 
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSON/E 
+
+
+Kine Joun. 
+
+Prince Henry, son to the king. 
+
+ArtHur, Duke of Bretagne, nephew to the 
+king. 
+
+The Earl of PEMBROKE. 
+
+The Earl of Essex. 
+
+The Earl of Saispury, 
+
+The Lord Bicor. 
+
+Huserr pe Burcu. 
+
+RogerT FAULCONBRIDGE, son to Sir Robert 
+Faulconbridge. 
+
+Purp the Bastarp, his half-brother. 
+
+James GuRNEY, servant to Lady Faulcon- 
+bridge. 
+
+PETER of Pomfret, a prophet. 
+
+Puiuip, King of France. 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+
+
+Scene I. Kine Joun'’s palace 
+
+
+Enter Kinc JoHN, QuEEN Exinor, PEM- 
+BROKE, Essex, SALISBURY, and others, 
+CHATILLON. 
+
+
+K. John. Now, say Chatillon, what would 
+France with us? 
+Chat. Thus, after greeting, speaks the 
+King of France 
+In my behaviour to the majesty, 
+The borrowd majesty, of England here. 
+
+
+Eli. A strange beginning: ‘borrow'd maj- 
+esty!’ 
+
+K. John. Silence, good mother; hear the 
+embassy. 
+
+Chat. Philip of France, in right and true 
+behalf 
+
+
+Of thy deceased brother Geffrey’s son, 
+Arthur Plantagenet, lays most lawful claim 
+To this fair island and the territories, 10 
+To Ireland, Poictiers, Anjou, Touraine, 
+Maine, 
+
+Desiring thee to lay aside the sword 
+Which sways usurpingly these several titles. 
+And put the same into young Arthur's hand, 
+Thy nephew and right royal sovereign. 
+
+
+K. John. What follows if we disallow. of 
+this? 
+Chat. The proud control of fierce and 
+
+
+bloody war, 
+
+
+Lewis, the Dauphin. 
+
+Lymoces, Duke of AusTRIA. 
+
+CarpINAL PANDULPH, the Pope’s legate. 
+
+Me tun, a French Lord. 
+
+CHATILLON, ambassador from France to King 
+John. 
+
+QuEEN ELINor, mother to King John. 
+
+CONSTANCE, mother to Arthur. 
+
+BLANCH of Spain, niece to King John. 
+
+
+Lapy *4ULCONBRIDGE. 
+Ler-s, Citizens of Angiers, Sheriff, 
+Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, Mes- 
+
+
+sengers, and other Attendants. 
+
+
+ScENE, partly in England, and partly in 
+
+
+France. 
+
+
+| To enforce the rights so forcibly withheld. 
+
+
+K. John. Here have we war for war and 
+blood for blood, 
+Controlment for controlment: so answer 
+France. 
+Chat. Then take my king's defiance from 
+
+
+my mouth, « 21 
+The farthest limit of my embassy. 
+K. John. Bear mine to him, and so depart 
+in peace: 
+Be thou as lightning in the eyes of France; 
+For ere thou canst report I will be there, 
+The thunder of my cannon shall be heard: 
+So hence! Be thou the trumpet of our wrath 
+And sullen presage of your own decay. 
+An honourable conduct let him have: 
+Pembroke, look to't. Farewell, Chatillon. 30 
+[Exeunt Chatillon and Pembroke. 
+Eli. What now, my son! have I not ever 
+said 
+| How that ambitious Constance would not cease 
+| Till she had kindled France and all the world, 
+|Upon the right and party of her son? 
+This might have been prevented and made 
+whole 
+| With very easy arguments of love, 
+Which now the manage of two kingdoms 
+must 
+With fearful bloody issue arbitrate. 
+K. John. Our strong possession and our 
+right for us. 
+
+
+406 
+
+
+ae Ls Se. I] 
+
+
+| Eli. Your strong possession much more 
+than your right, 40 
+
+Or else it must go wrong with you and me: 
+
+So much my conscience whispers in your ear, 
+
+Which none but heaven and you and | shall 
+hear. 
+
+
+Enter a Sheriff. 
+
+
+Essex. My liege, here is the strangest con- 
+troversy 
+Come from the country to be judged by you 
+That e’er I heard: shall I produce the men? 
+K. John. Let them approach. 
+Our abbeys and our priories shall pay 
+This expedition’s charge. 
+Enter RopertT FAuLcoNnsBRIDGE, and PHILIP 
+his bastard brother. 
+What men are you? 
+Bast. Your faithful subject I, a gentleman 
+Born in Northamptonshire and eldest son, 51 
+
+
+~_ As I suppose, to Robert Faulconbridge. 
+
+
+A soldier, by the honour-giving hand 
+Gf Cceur-de-lion knighted in the field. 
+
+
+K. John. What art thou? 
+
+Rob. The son and heir to that same Faul- 
+conbridge. 
+
+K. John. Is that the elder, and art thou 
+the heir? | 
+
+
+You came not of one mother then, it seems. 
+
+
+Bast. Most certain of one mother, mighty 
+king, 
+That is well known; and, as I think, one 
+father: 
+
+
+But for the certain knowledge of that truth 61 
+J put you o’er to heaven and to my mother: 
+Of that I doubt, as all men’s children may. 
+Eli. Out on thee, rude man! thou dost 
+shame thy mother 
+And wound her honour with this diffidence. 
+Bast. 1, madam? no, I have no reason for 
+it; 
+That is my brother’s plea and none of mine; 
+
+
+_The which if he can prove, a’ pops me out 
+
+
+At least from fair five hundred pound a year: 
+Heaven guard my mother's honour and my 
+land! 
+K. John. A good blunt fellow. Why, be- 
+ing younger born, 71 
+Doth he lay claim to thine inheritance? 
+Bast. 1 know not why, except to get the land, 
+But once he slander’d me with bastardy: 
+But whether I be as true begot or no, 
+That still I lay upon my mother’s head; 
+But that I am as well begot, my liege,— 
+Fair fall the bones that took the il) for 
+me | — 
+Compare our faces and be judge wfotirsaltl 
+If old sir Robert did beget us both 80 
+
+
+And were our father and this son like him. 
+
+
+KING JOHN 
+
+
+407 
+
+
+nd 
+
+
+O old’sir Robert, father, on my knee 
+I give heaven thanks I was not like to thee! 
+John. Why, what a madcap hath 
+heaven lent us here! 
+Eli. He hath a trick of Cceur-de-lion’s 
+face; 
+The accent of his tongue affecteth him. 
+Do you not read some tokens of my son — 
+In the large composition of this man? 
+K. John. Mine eye hath well examined his 
+parts 
+And finds them perfect Richard. Sirrah, speak, 
+What doth move you to claim your brother's 
+land? 91 
+Bast. Because he hath a half-face, like my 
+father. 
+With half that face would he have all my land: 
+A. half-faced groat five hundred pounds a 
+year! 
+Rob. My gracious liege, when that my 
+father lived, 
+Your brother did employ my father ‘much.— 
+Bast. Well, sir, by this you cannot get my 
+iand: 
+Your tale must be how he employ’d my mother. 
+Rob, And once dispatched him in an embassy 
+To Germany, there with the emperor ~ 100 
+To treat of high affairs touching that time. 
+The advantage of his absence took the king 
+And in the mean time sojourn’d at my father’ £5 
+Where how he did prevail I shame to speak, 
+But truth is truth: large lengths of seas and - 
+shores 
+Between my father and my mother lay, 
+As I have heard my father speak himself, 
+When this same lusty gentleman was got. 
+Upon his death-bed he by will bequeath’d 
+His lands to me, and took it on his death 130 
+That this my mother’s son was none of his; 
+And if he were, he came into the world 
+Full fourteen weeks before the course of time, 
+Then, good my liege, let me have what is 
+mine, 
+My father’s land, as was my father’s will. 
+K. John. Sirrah, your brother is legitimate ; 
+Your father’s wife did after wedlock beer 
+him. 
+And af she did play false, 
+hers; 
+Which fault lies on the hazards 9f all husbands 
+That marry wives. Tell me, how if my brother, 
+Who, as you say, took pains to get this son, [21 
+Had of your father claim’d this son for his? 
+In sooth, good friend, your father might have 
+
+
+the fault was 
+
+
+ept 
+
+This calf bred from his cow from all the 
+world; 
+
+In sooth he might; 
+
+
+then, if he were my 
+brother's. ; 
+
+
+408 
+
+
+My brother might not claim him; nor your 
+father, 
+Being none of his, refuse him; this concludes; 
+My mother’s son did get your father’s heir; 
+Your father’s heir must have your father’s 
+land. 
+Rob. Shall then my father’s will be of no 
+force 130 
+To dispossess that child which is not his? 
+_ Bast. Of no more force to dispossess me, 
+sir, 
+Than was his will to get me, as I think. 
+Eli. Whether hadst thou rather be a Faul- 
+conbr.dge 
+And like thy brother, to enjoy thy land, 
+Or the reputed son of Cceur-de-lion, 
+Lord of thy presence and no land beside? 
+Bast. Madam, an if my brother had my 
+shape, 
+And | had his, sir Robert's his, like him; 
+And if my legs were two such riding-rods, 140 
+. My arm such eel-skins stuff’d, my face so 
+thin 
+That in mine ear I durst not stick a rose 
+Lest men should say ‘Look, where three- 
+farthings goes]’ 
+And, to his shape, were heir to all this 
+land, 
+Would I might never stir from off this place, 
+1 would give it every foot to have this face; 
+I would not be sir Nob in any case. 
+_ Eli. J like thee well: wilt thou forsake thy 
+fortune, 
+Bequeath thy land to him and follow me? 
+1 am a soldier and now bound to France. 150 
+Bast, Brother, take, you my land, I'll take 
+my chance. 
+‘Your face hath got five hundred pound a year, 
+Yet sell your face for five pence and 'tis dear. 
+Madam, I'll follow you unto the death. 
+Eli. Nay, 1 would have you go before me 
+thither. 
+Bast. Our country manners give our bet- 
+ters way. 
+K. John. What is thy name? 
+Bast. Philip, my liege, so is my name 
+begun; 
+Philip, good old sir Robert's wife’s eldest son. 
+K. John. From henceforth bear his name 
+whose form thou bear’st: 160 
+Kneel thou down Philip, but rise more great, 
+Arise sir Richard and Plantagenet. 
+Bast. Brother by the mother’s side, give 
+_. me your hand: 
+My father gave me honour, yours gave land. 
+Now blessed be the hour, by night or day, 
+When I was got, sir Robert was away! 
+Eli, The very spirit of Plantagenet! 
+t am thy grandam,, Richard; call me so. 
+
+
+KING JOHN 
+
+
+{Act I, Sc. i 
+
+
+Bast. Madam, by chance but not by truth; 
+what though? 
+
+Something about, a little from the right, 170 
+In at the window, or else o'er the hatch: 
+Who dares not stir by day must walk by night, 
+And have is have, however men do catch: 
+Near or far off, well won is stili well shot, 
+
+And I am I, howe’er I was begot. 
+K. John. Go, Faulconbridge;, now, has\ 
+thou thy desire; 
+A landless knight makes thee a landed squire. 
+Come, madam, and come, Richard, we must 
+
+
+speed 
+For France, for France, for it is more than 
+need. 
+Bast. Brother, adieu: good fortune come 
+to thee! 
+
+
+180 
+
+For thou wast got i’ the way of honesty. : 
+[Exeunt all but Bastard, 
+
+A fool or honour better than I was; 
+
+But many a many foot of land the worse. 
+
+Well, now can I make any Joan a lady. 
+
+
+‘Good den, sir Richard!—'God-a-mercy, 
+fellow !'— 
+
+And if his name be George, I'll call him 
+Peter; 
+
+For new-made honour doth forget men’s 
+names ; 
+
+
+"Tis too respective and too sociable 
+For your conversion. Now your traveller, 
+He and his toothpick at my worship’s mess, 190 
+And when my knightly stomach is sufficed, 
+Why then I suck my teeth and catechize 
+My picked man of countries: ‘My dear sir,’ 
+Thus, leaning 6n mine elbow, I begin, 
+‘l shall beseech you'—that is question now; 
+And then comes answer like an Absey book: 
+‘O yes. says answer, ‘at your best command; 
+At your employment; at your service, sir: 
+‘No, sir,’ says question, ‘I, sweet sir, at 
+yours:" 
+And so, ere answer knows what question 
+would, 
+Saving a dialogue of compliment, 201 
+And talking of the Alps and Apennines, 
+The Pyrenean and the river Po, 
+It draws toward supper in conclusion so, 
+But this is worshipful society 
+And fits the mounting spirit like myself 
+For he is but a bastard to the time 
+That doth not smack of observation; 
+And so am I, whether | smack or no; 
+And not alone in habit and device, 
+Exterior form, outward accoutrement, 
+But from the inward motion to deliver 
+Sweet, sweet, sweet poison for the age’s tooth: 
+Which, though I will not practise to deceive, 
+Yet, to avoid deceit, I mean to learn; 
+For it shall strew the footsteps of my rising, 
+
+
+210 
+
+
+wee | 
+
+
+Act II, Sc. I] 
+
+
+KING JOHN 
+
+
+a’, 
+
+
+409 
+
+
+But who comes in such haste in riding-robes? 
+
+What woman-post is this? hath she no hus- 
+band 
+
+aly take pains to blow a horn before 
+er? 
+
+
+Enter Lapy FAULCONBRIDGE and JAMES 
+GuRNEY. 
+
+
+O me! itis my mother. How now, good lady! 
+What brings you here to court so hastily? 221 
+Lady F. Where is that slave, thy brother? 
+where is he, 
+That holds in chase mine honour up and down? 
+Bast. My brother Robert? old sir Robert's 
+son > 
+Colbrand the giant, that same mighty man? 
+Js it sir Robert’s son that you seek so? 
+Lady F. Sir Robert’s son! Ay, thou un- 
+reverend boy, 
+Sir Robert’s son: 
+i Robert? 
+He is sir Robert's son, and so art thou. 
+Bast. James Gurney, wilt thou give us 
+leave awhile? 230 
+Gur. Good leave, good Philip. 
+Bast. Philip! sparrow: James, 
+There's toys abroad: anon | 'll tell thee more. 
+[Exit Gurney. 
+Madam, I was not old sir Robert's son: 
+Sir Robert might have eat his part in me 
+Upon Good-Friday and ne’er broke his fast: 
+Sir Robert could do well: marry, to confess, 
+Could he get me? Sir Robert could not do it: 
+We know his handiwork: therefore, good 
+mother, 
+To whom am I beholding for these limbs? 
+Sir Robert never holp to make this leg. 240 
+Lady F, Hast thou conspired with thy 
+brother too, 
+That for thine own gain shouldst defend mine 
+
+
+why scorn’st thou at sir 
+
+
+honour ? 
+What means this scorn, thou most > untoward 
+knave? 
+Bast. Knight, knight, good mother, Basi- 
+lisco-like. 
+
+
+What! I am dubb’d! I have it on my shoulder. 
+But, mother, I am not sir Robert's son; 
+I have disclaim’d sir Robert and my land; 
+Legitimation, name and all is gone: 
+Then, good my mother, let me know my father: 
+Some proper man, I hope: who was it, mother ? 
+Lady F. Hast thou denied thyself a Faul- 
+conbridge? > 251 
+Bast. As faithfully as I deny the devil. 
+Lady F. King Richard Ceeur-de-lion was 
+thy father: 
+By long and vehement suit I was seduced 
+To make room for him in my husband's bed: 
+Heaven lay not my transgression to my charge! 
+
+
+Thou art the issue of my dear offence, 
+Which was so strongly urged past my defence. 
+Bast. Now, by this light, were I to get 
+again, 
+Madam, I would not wish a better father. 260 
+Some sins do bear their privilege on earth, 
+And so doth yours; your fault was not your 
+folly: 
+Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose, 
+Subjected tribute to commanding love, 
+Against whose fury and unmatched force 
+The aweless lion could not wage the fight, 
+Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's 
+hand. 
+He that perforce robs lions of their hearts 
+May easily win a woman's. Ay, my mother, 
+With all my heart I thank thee for my father! 
+Who lives and dares but say thou didst not 
+well 
+When I was got, I ‘ll send his soul to hell. 
+Come, lady, I will show thee to my kin; 
+And they shall say, when Richard me begot, 
+If thou hadst said him nay, it had been sin: 
+Who says it was, he lies; I'say "twas not. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT II. 
+
+
+Scene I. Before Angiers. 
+
+
+Enter Austria and forces, drums, eic. on one 
+side: on the other Kinc Puuip of France 
+and his power; Lewis, ARTHUR, Con- 
+STANCE and attendants. 
+
+
+Lew. Before Angiers well met, brave Aus- 
+tria. 
+Arthur, the great forerunner of thy blood, 
+Richard, that robb’d the lion of his heart 
+And fought the holy wars in Palestine, 
+By this brave duke came early to his grave:' 
+And for amends to his posterity. 
+At our importance hither is he come, 
+To spread his’ colours, boy, in thy behalf, 
+And to rebuke the usurpation 
+Of thy unnatural uncle, English John: 10 
+Embrace him, love him, give him welcome 
+hither. 
+Arth. God shall forgive you Cceur-de-lion's 
+death 
+The rather that you give his offspring life, 
+Shadowing their right under your wings of 
+war: 
+I give you welcome with a powerless hand, 
+But with a heart full of unstained love: 
+Welcome before the gates of Angiers, duke. 
+Lew. A noble boy! Who would not de 
+
+
+France, 
+
+
+thee right? 
+Aust. Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous 
+kiss, 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+As seal to this indenture of my love. 
+
+
+419 
+
+
+That to my home I| will no more return, 
+Till Angiers and the right thou hast in 
+France, 
+Together with that pale, that white-faced 
+shore, 
+Whose foot spurns back the ocean’s roaring 
+tides 
+And coops from other lands her islanders, 
+Even ull that England, hedged in with the 
+main, 
+That water-walled bulwark, still secure 
+And confident from foreign purposes, 
+Even til! the utmost corner of the west 
+Salute thee for her king: till then, fair boy, 30 
+Will I not think of home, but follow arms. 
+Const. ©, take his mother’s thanks, a 
+widow's thanks, 
+Till your strong hand shall help to give him 
+strength 
+_ To make a more requital to your love! 
+Aust. The peace of heaven is theirs that 
+lift their swords 
+In such a just and charitable war. 
+K. Phi. Well then, to work: our cannon 
+shall be bent 
+Against the brows of this resisting town. 
+Call for our chiefest men of discipline, 
+To cull the plots of best advantages: 40 
+We'll lay before this town our royal bones, 
+Wade to the market-place in Frenchmen’s 
+blood, 
+But we will make it subject to this boy. 
+Const. Stay for an answer to your em- 
+bassy, 
+Lest unadvised you stain your swords with 
+blood: 
+My Lord Chat‘llon may from England bring 
+That right in peace which here we urge in war, 
+And then we shall repent each drop of blood 
+That hot rash haste so indirectly shed. 
+
+
+Enter CHATILLON. 
+K. Phi. A wonder, lady! lo, upon thy 
+
+
+wish, 
+Our messenger Chatillon is arrived! 51 
+What England says, say briefly, gentle lord; 
+We coldly pause for thee; Chatillon, speak. 
+Chat. Then turn your forces from. this 
+paltry siege 
+And stir them up aga‘nst a mightier task. 
+England, impatient of your just demands, 
+Hath put himself in arms: the adverse winds, 
+Whose leisure I have stay’d, have given him 
+time 
+To land his legions all as soon as I; 
+His marches are expedient to this town, 
+His forces strong, h’s soldiers confident. 
+‘With him along is come the mother-queen, 
+An Ate, stirring him to blood and strife; 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+KING JOHN 
+
+
+\ iv SO re eee 
+[Act II, Se. I 
+
+
+With her her niece, the Lady Blanch of 
+Spain; 
+
+With them a bastard of the king’s deceased; 
+
+And all the unsettled humours of the land, 
+
+Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries, 
+
+With ladies’ faces and fierce dragons’ spleens, 
+
+Have sold their fortunes at their native homes, 
+
+Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs, 
+
+To make a hazard of new fortunes here: 7] 
+
+In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits 
+
+Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er 
+
+Did never float upon the swelling tide, 
+
+To do offence and scath in Christendom. 
+
+
+[Drum beats, . 
+
+
+The interruption of their churlish drums 
+
+Cuts off more circumstance: they are at hand, 
+
+To parley or to fight; therefore prepare. 
+K. Phi. How much. unlook’d for is this 
+
+
+expedition! 
+Aust. By how much unexpected, by so 
+muc 80 
+
+
+We must awake endeavour for defence; 
+For courage mounteth with occasion: 
+Let them be welcome then; we are prepared. 
+
+
+Enter Kina Joun, Exinor, BLaNncu, 
+the Bastard, Lords, and forces. 
+
+
+K. John. Peace be to France, if France in 
+
+peace permit 
+
+Our just and lineal entrance to our own; 
+
+If not, bleed France, and peace ascend to 
+heaven, 
+
+Whiles we, God’s wrathful agent, do correct 
+
+Their proud contempt that beats His peace 
+to heaven. 
+
+
+K. Phi. Peace be to England, if that war — 
+89 
+
+
+return 
+From France to England, there*to live in peace. 
+England we love; and for that England's sake 
+With burden of our armour here we sweat. 
+This toil of ours should be a work of thine; 
+But thow from loving England art so far, 
+That thou hast under-wrought his lawful king, 
+Cut off the sequence of posterity, 
+Out-faced infant state and done a rape 
+Upon the maiden virtue of the crown. 
+Look here upon thy brother Geffrey’s face; 
+These eyes, these brows, were moulded out 
+
+of his: 100 
+This little abstract doth contain that large 
+Which died in Geffrey, and the hand of time 
+Shall draw this brief into as huge a volume, 
+That Geffrey was thy elder brother born, 
+And this his son; England was Geffrey’s right 
+And this is Geffrey’s: in the name of God 
+How comes it then that thou art call’d a king, 
+When living blood doth in these temples beat, 
+Which owe the crown that thou o’ermasterest? 
+
+
+a Se Oe 
+
+
+‘Cae 
+
+
+Act II, Sc. 1] 
+
+
+KING JOHN 
+
+
+4\1 
+
+
+'_K. john, From whom hast thou this great) England and Ireland, Anjou, Touraine, 
+
+
+commiss.on, France, 110 
+To draw my answer from thy articles? 
+K. Phi. From that supernal judge, that 
+stirs good thoughts 
+In any breast of strong authority. 
+To look into the blots and stains of right: 
+That judge hath made me guardian to this 
+boy: 
+Under whose warrant I impeach thy wrong 
+And by whose help I mean to chastise it. 
+King John. Alack, thou dost usurp au- 
+thority. 
+K. Phi. Excuse; it is to beat usurping down. 
+Eli. Who is it thou dost call usurper; 
+
+
+France? 120 
+Const. Let me make answer; thy usurping 
+son. 
+Eli. Out, insolent! thy bastard shall be 
+king, A 
+That thou mayst be a queen, and check the 
+; world! 
+
+
+Const. My bed was ever to thy son as true 
+As thine was to thy husband; and this boy 
+Liker in feature to his father Geffrey 
+Than thou and John in manners; being as like 
+As rain to water, or devil to his dam. 
+
+My boy a bastard! By my soul, I think 
+His father never was so true begot: 130 
+It cannot be, as if thou wert his mother, 
+
+Eli. There’s a good mother, boy, that 
+
+blots thy father. 
+
+Const. There’s a good grandam, boy, that 
+
+would blot thee. 
+
+
+Aust, Peace! 
+Bast. Hear the crier. 
+Aust. What the devil art thou? 
+
+
+Bast, One that will play the devil, sir, 
+with you, 
+An a’ may catch your hide and you alone: 
+You are the hare of whom the proverb goes, 
+Whose valour plucks dead lions by the beard: 
+Ill smoke your skin-coat, an J catch you right; 
+Sirrah, look to’t; 1’ fa'th, I will, 1° faith. 140 
+Blanch. O, well did he become that lion’s 
+robe 
+That did disrobe the lion of that robe! 
+Basi. It hes as sightly on the back of him 
+As great Alcides’ shows upon an ass: 
+But, ass, I “Il take that burthen from your back, 
+Ory lay on that shall make your shoulders crack. 
+Aust. What cracker is this same that deafs 
+our ears 
+With’ this abundance of superfluous breath? 
+K. Phi. Lewis, determine what we shall 
+
+
+do straight. 
+Lew. Women and fools, break off your con- 
+ference. 150 
+
+
+King John. this is the very sum of all; 
+
+
+Maine, 
+In right of Arthur do I claim of thee: 
+Wilt thou resign them and lay down thy arms? 
+
+K. John. My life as soon: do defy thee, 
+
+France. 
+Arthur of Bretagne, yield thee to my hand; 
+And out of my dear love I "Il give thee more 
+Than e’er the coward hand of France can win: 
+Submit thee, boy. 
+
+Eli. Come to thy grandam, child, 
+
+Const. Do, child, go to it grandam, child; 
+Give grandam kingdom, and it grandam will 
+Give it a plum, a cherry, and a fig: 
+
+There ’s a good grandam. 
+
+Arth. Good my mother, peace! 
+I would that I were low laid in my grave: 
+
+I am not worth this coil that’s made for me. 
+
+Eli. His mother shames him so, poor boy, 
+
+he weeps. 
+
+Const. Now shame upon you, whether sh? 
+
+does or no! 
+
+His grandam’s wrongs, and not his mother's 
+shames, 
+
+Draws those heaven-moving pearls from his 
+poor eyes, 
+
+Which heaven shall take in nature of a fee; 
+
+Ay, with these crystal beads heaven shall be 
+bribed 
+
+To do him justice and revenge on you. 
+
+Eli. Thou monstrous slanderer of heaven 
+
+and earth! 
+
+Const. Thou monstrous injurer of heaven 
+
+and earth! 
+Call not me slanderer; thou and thine usurp 
+The dominations, royalties and rights 
+Of this oppressed boy: this is thy eld’st son’s 
+son, 
+Infortunate in nothing but in thee: 
+Thy sins are visited in this poor child; 
+The canon of the law is laid on him. 
+Being but the second generation 
+Removed from thy sin-conceiving womb. 
+
+K. John. Bedlam, have done. 
+
+Const. I have but this to say, 
+That he is not only plagued for her sin, 
+But God hath made her sin and her the plague 
+On this removed issue, plagued for her 
+And with her plague; her sin his injury, 
+Her injury the beadle to her sin, 
+
+All punish’d in the person of this child, 
+And all for her; a plague upon her! 190 
+
+Eli. Thou unadvised scold, I can produce 
+A will that bars the title of thy son. 
+
+Const. Ay, who doubts that? a will! a 
+
+wicked will; 
+A woman’s will; a canker'd grandam’s will! 
+
+K. Phi. Peace, lady! pause, or be more 
+
+temperate: 
+
+
+180 
+
+
+Al2 
+
+
+KING JOHN 
+
+
+[Acr II, Sc. 1 
+
+
+It ill beseems this presence to cry aim 
+
+To these ill-tuned repetitions. 
+
+Some trumpet summon hither to the walls 
+These men of Angiers: let us hear them speak 
+
+
+Whose title they ‘admit, Arthur's or John’s. 
+
+
+Trumpet sounds, Enter certain Citizens 
+upon the walls. 
+
+
+First Cit. Who is it that hath warn’d us to 
+the walls? 
+a Phi. 'Tis France, for England. 
+K. John. England, for itself. 
+You men of Angiers, and my loving sub- 
+jects,— 
+K. Phi. You loving men of Angiers, 
+
+
+Arthur's subjects, 
+
+Our trumpet call’d you to this gentle parle— 
+
+K. John. For our advantage; therefore 
+
+hear us first. 
+
+These flags of France, that are advanced here 
+
+Before the eye and prospect of your town, 
+
+Have hither march’d to your endamagement: 
+
+The cannons have their bowels full of wrath, 
+
+And ready mounted are they to spit forth 211 
+
+Their iron indignation ‘gainst your walls: 
+
+All preparation for a bloody siege 
+
+And merciless proceed ng by these French 
+
+Confronts your city’s eyes, your winking gates; 
+
+And but for our approach those sleeping stones, 
+
+That as a waist doth girdle you about, 
+
+By the compulsion of their ordinance 
+
+By this time from their fixed beds of lime 
+
+Had been dishabited, and wide havoc made 
+
+For bloody power to rush upon your peace. 
+
+But on the sight of us your lawful king, 
+
+Who painfully with much expedient march 
+
+Have brought a countercheck before your 
+gates, 
+
+To save unscratch’d your city’s threatened 
+cheeks, 
+
+Behold, the French amazed vouchsafe a parle; 
+
+And now, instead of bullets wrapp’d in fire, 
+
+To make a shaking fever in your walls, 
+
+They shoot but calm words folded up in 
+smoke, 
+
+To make-a faithless error in your ears: 
+
+Which trust accordingly, kind citizens, 
+
+And let us in, your king, whose labour'd 
+spirits, 
+
+Forwearied in this action of swift speed, 
+
+Crave harbourage within your city walls. 
+
+K. Phi. When I have said, make answer 
+
+to us both. 
+
+Lo, in this right hand, whose protection 
+
+Is most divinely vow'd upon the right 
+
+Of him it holds, stands young Plantagenet, 
+
+Son to the elder brother of this man, 
+
+And king o'er him and all that he enjoys: 240 
+
+For this down-trodden equity, we tread 
+
+
+230 
+
+
+In warlike march these greens before your 
+town, 
+
+Being no further enemy to you 
+
+Than the consiraint of hospitable zeal 
+
+In the relief of this oppressed child 
+
+Religiously provokes. Be pleased then 
+
+To pay that duty which you truly owe 
+
+To him that owes it, namely this young prince: 
+
+And then our arms, like to a muzzled bear, 
+
+Save in aspect, hath all offence seal d up; 250 
+
+Our cannons’ malice vainly shall be spent 
+
+Against the invulnerable clouds of heaven; 
+
+And with a blessed and unvex'd retre, 
+
+With unhack’d swords and helmets all un- 
+bruised, 
+
+We will bear home that lusty blood again 
+
+Which here we came to spout agaist your 
+town, 
+
+And leave your children, wives and you ix 
+peace. 
+
+But if you fondly pass our proffer'd offer, 
+
+"Tis not the roundure of your old-faced walls 
+
+Can hide you from our messengers of war, 260 
+
+Though all these English and their discipline 
+
+Were harbour’d in their rude circumference. 
+
+Then tell us, shall your city call us lord, 
+
+In that behalf which we have challenged it? 
+
+Or shall we give the signal to our rage 
+
+And stalk in blood to our possession ? 
+
+First Cit. In brief, we are the king of 
+
+England's subjects: 
+
+For him, and in his right, we hold this town. 
+
+
+K. John. Acknowledge then the king, and 
+let me in. 
+
+First Cit. That can we not; but he that 
+proves the king, 270 
+
+
+To him will we prove loyal: till that time 
+
+Have we ramm'd up our gates against the 
+world. 
+
+K. John. Doth not the crown of England 
+
+prove the king? 
+
+And if not that, I bring you witnesses, 
+
+Twice fifteen thousand hearts of England’s 
+breed, — 
+
+
+Bast. Bastards, and else. 
+
+K. John. To verify our title with their lives. 
+
+K, Phi. As many and as well-born bloods 
+as those,— 
+
+Bast. Some bastards too. 
+
+K. Phi. Stand in his face to contradict his 
+
+
+claim. 280 
+First Cit. Till you compound whose right 
+is worthiest, 
+We for the worthiest hold the right from both. 
+K. John. Then God forgive the sin of all 
+those souls 
+That to their everlasting residence, 
+Before the dew of evening fall, shall fleet, 
+In dreadful trial of our kingdom's king! 
+
+
+Act II, Sco f} KING 
+
+
+K. Phi. Amen, amen! 
+to arms! 
+Bast. Saint George, 
+dragon, and e’er since 
+Sits on his horse back at mine hostess’ door, 
+Teach us some fence! [To Aust.] Sirrah, 
+were I at home, 290 
+At your den, sirrah, with your {joness, 
+I would set an ox-head to your lion's hide, 
+And make a monster of you. 
+Aust. Peace! no more, 
+Bast. O, tremble, for you hear the lion roar. 
+K. John. Up higher to the plain; where 
+we'll set forth 
+In best appointment all our regiments. 
+Bast. Speed then, to take advantage of the 
+field. 
+K. Phi. Itshall be so; and at the other hill 
+Command the rest to stand. God and our 
+right! [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Mount, chevaliers! 
+
+
+that swinged the 
+
+
+"Here after excursions, enter the Herald of 
+France, with trumpets, to the gates. 
+
+
+F, Her, You men of Angiers, open wide 
+your gates, 300 
+And let young Arthur, Duke of Bretagne, in, 
+Who by the hand of France this day hath 
+
+
+made 
+
+
+Much work for tears in many an English 
+mother, 
+
+Whose sons lie scattered on the bleeding 
+ground; 
+
+
+Many a widow's husband grovelling lies, 
+Coldly embracing the discolour’d earth; 
+And victory, with little loss, doth play 
+Upon the dancing banners of the French. 
+Who are at hand, triumphantly display'd, 
+To enter conquerors and to proclam 310 
+Arthur of Bretagne England's king and yours. 
+
+
+Enter English Herald, with trumpet. 
+
+
+E. Her. Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring 
+
+your bells; 
+
+King John, your king and England’s, doth 
+approach, 
+
+Commander of this hot malicious day: 
+
+Their armours, that march'd hence so silver- 
+bright, 
+
+Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen’s blood; 
+
+There, stuck no plume in any English crest 
+
+That ts removed by a staff of France; 
+
+Our colours do return in those same hands 
+
+That did display them when we first march'’d 
+forth; 320 
+
+And, like a jolly troop of huntsmen, come 
+
+Our lusty English, all with purpled hands, 
+
+
+JOHN 413 
+
+
+Dyed in the dying slaughter of their foes: 
+»|Open your gates and give the victors way. 
+First Cit. Heralds, from off our towers we 
+might behold, 
+From first to last, the onset and retire 
+Of both your armies; whose equality 
+By our best eyes cannot be censured: 
+Blood hath bought blood and blows have 
+answer'd blows; 
+Strength match’d with strength, and power 
+confronted power: 330 
+Both are alike; and both alike we like, 
+One must prove greatest: while they weigh 
+so even, 
+We hold our town for neither, yet for both. 
+
+
+Re-enter the two Kinos, with their powers, 
+severally, 
+
+
+K, John. France, hast thou yet more blood 
+to cast away > 
+Say, shall the current of our right run on? 
+Whose passage, vex’d with thy impediment, 
+Shall leave his native channel and o’erswell 
+With course disturb’'d even thy confining 
+shores, 
+Unless thou let his silver water keep 
+A peaceful progress to the ocean. 340 
+K. Phi. England, thou hast not saved one 
+drop of blood. 
+In this hot trial, more than we of France; 
+Rather, lost more. And by this hand I swear, 
+That sways the earth this climate overlooks, 
+Before we will lay down our just-borne arms, 
+We'll put thee down, ‘gainst whom these 
+arms we bear, 
+Or add a royal number to the dead, 
+Gracing the scroll that tells of this war's loss 
+With slaughter coupled to the name of kings. 
+Bast. Ha, majesty! how high thy glory 
+towers, 350 
+When the rich blood of kings is set on fire! 
+O, now doth Death line his dead chaps with 
+steel ; 
+The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs; 
+And now he feasts, mousing the flesh of men, 
+In undetermined differences of kings. 
+Why stand these royal fronts amazed thus? 
+Cry, ‘havoc!’ kings: back to the stained field, 
+You equal potents, fiery kindled sp’rits! 
+Then let confusion of one part confirm 
+The other's peace; till then, blows, blood and 
+
+
+death! 360 
+K. John. Whose party do the townsmen 
+yet admit? 
+K. Phi. Speak, citizens, for England; 
+
+
+who's your king? 
+First Cit. The king of England, when we 
+know the king. ° 
+
+
+414 
+
+
+KING JOHN 
+
+
+[Acr Il, Sc. I 
+
+
+ey 
+
+
+K. Phi. Know him in us, that here hold 
+up his right. 
+K. John, In us, that are our own great 
+deputy, 
+And bear possession of our person here, 
+Lord of our presence, Angiers, and of you. 
+First Cit. A greater power than we denies 
+all this; 
+And till it be undoubted, we do lock 
+Our former scruple in our strong-barr’d gates; 
+King'd of our fears, until our fears, resolved, 
+Be by some certain king purged and deposed. 
+Bast. By heaven, these scroyles of Angiers 
+flout you, kings, 
+And stand securely on their battlements, 
+As in a theatre, whence they gape and point 
+At your industrious scenes and acts of death. 
+Your royal presences be ruled by me: 
+Do like the mutines of Jerusalem, 
+Be friends awhile and both conjointly bend 
+Your sharpest deeds of malice on this town: 
+By east and west let France -and England 
+mount 381 
+Their battering cannon charged to the mouths, 
+Till their soul-fearing clamours have brawl’d 
+down 
+The flinty ribs of this contemptuous city: 
+I'ld play incessantly upon these jades, 
+Even till unfenced desolation 
+Leave them as naked as the vulgar a‘r. 
+That done, dissever your united strengths, 
+And part your mingled colours once again; 
+Turn face to face and bloody poit to point; 
+Then, in a moment, Fortune shall cull forth 
+Out of one side her happy minion, 
+To whom in favour she shall give the day, 
+And kiss him with a glorious victory. 
+How like you this w Id counsel, mighty states? 
+Smacks it not something of the policy? 
+K. John. Now, by the sky that hangs 
+above our heads, 
+I like it well. France, shall we knit our powers 
+And lay this Angiers even with the ground; 
+Then after fight who shall be king of it? 400 
+Bast. An if thou hast the mettle of a king, 
+Being wrong’d as we are by this peevish 
+town, 
+Turn thou the mouth of thy artillery, 
+As we will ours, against these saucy walls; 
+And when that we have dash’d them to the 
+ground, 
+Why then defy each other, and pell-mell 
+Make work upon ourselves, for heaven or hell. 
+K. Phi. Let it be so. Say, where will you 
+assault > 
+K. John. We from the west will send de- 
+struction 
+Into this city’s bosom. 410 
+
+
+Aust. I from the north 
+
+
+K. Phi. Our thunder from the south 
+Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town. 
+Bast. O prudent disc.pline! From’ north 
+to south: 
+Austria and France shoot in each other’s mouth: 
+I'll stir them to it, Come, away, away! 
+First Cit. Hear us, great kings: vouchsafe 
+awhile to stay, 
+And I shall show you peace and fair-faced 
+league; 
+Win you this city without stroke or wound; 
+Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds, 
+That here come sacrifices for the field: 420 
+Persever- not, but hear me, mighty kings. 
+K. John. Speak on with favour; we are 
+bent to hear. 
+First Cit. That daughter there of Spain, 
+the Lady Blanch, 
+Is niece to England: look upon the years 
+Of Lewis the Dauphin and that lovely maid: 
+If lusty love should go in quest of beauty, 
+Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch? 
+If zealous love should go in search of virtue, 
+Where should he find it purer than in Blanch? 
+If love amb'tious sought a match of birth, 430 
+Whose veins bound richer blood than Lady 
+Blanch? 
+Such as she is, in beauty, virtue, birth, 
+Is the young Dauphin every way complete: 
+If not complete of, say he is not she; 
+And she again wants nothing, to name want, 
+If want it be not that she is not he: 
+He is the half part of a blessed man, 
+Left to be fin'shed by such as she; 
+And she a fai divided excellence, 
+Whose fulness of perfection lies in him. 440 
+O, two such silver currents, when they join, 
+Do glorify the banks that bound them in; 
+And two such shores to two ‘such streams 
+made one, 
+Two such controlling bounds shall you be. 
+kings, 
+To these two princes, if you marry them. 
+This union shall do more than battery can 
+To our fast-closed gates; for at this match, 
+With sw fter spleen than powder can enforce, 
+The mouth of passage shall we fling wide ope, 
+And give you entrance: but without this match, 
+The sea enraged is not half so deaf, 451 
+Lions more confident, mountains and rocks 
+More free from motion, no, not Death himself 
+In mortal fury half so peremptory, 
+As we to keep this city. 
+Bast. Here’s a stay 
+That shakes the rotten carcass of old Death 
+Out of his rags! Here’s a large mouth, indeed, 
+That spits forth death and mountains, rocks 
+and seas, 
+Talks as familiarly of roaring lions 
+
+
+SS 
+
+
+“ACT 113s. I] 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+Ass maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs! 460 
+What cannoneer begot this lusty blood? 
+He speaks plain cannon fire, and smoke and 
+bounce; 
+He gives the bastinado with his tongue: 
+Our ears are cudgell’d; not a word of his 
+But buffets better than a fist of France: 
+Zounds! I was never so bethump’d with words 
+Since I first call’d my brother’s father dad. 
+Eli. Son, |.st to this conjunction, make this 
+match; 
+Give with our niece a dowry large enough: 
+For by this knot thou shalt so surely tie 470 
+Thy now unsured assurance to the crown, 
+That yon green boy shall have no sun to 
+ripe 
+The shal that promiseth a mighty fruit. 
+I see a yielding in the looks of France; 
+Mark, how they whisper: urge them while 
+their souls 
+Are capable of this ambition, 
+Lest zeal, now melted by the w'ndy breath 
+OF soft petitions, pity and remorse, 
+Cool and congeal again to what it was. 
+First Cit. Why answer not the double 
+majesties 480 
+This friendly treaty of our threaten’d town? 
+K. Phi. Speak England first, that hath 
+
+
+been forward first 
+
+
+To speak unto this city: what say you? 
+
+
+K. John. If that the Dauphin there, thy 
+princely son, 
+Can in this book of beauty read ‘I love,’ 
+Her dowry shall weigh equal with a queen; 
+ror Anjou and far Touraine, Maine, Poic- 
+tiers, 
+And all that we upon this side the sea, 
+Except this city now by us besieged, 
+Find liable to our crown and dignity, 490 
+Shall gild her bridal bed and make her rich 
+In titles, honours and promotions, 
+As she in beauty, education, blood, 
+Holds hand with any princess of the world. 
+K. Phi. What say’st thou, boy? look in 
+the lady's face. 
+Lew. | do, my lord; and in her eye I find 
+A wonder, or a ealious miracle, 
+The shadow of myself form’d in her eye; 
+Which, being but the shadow of your son, 
+Becomes a sun and makes your son a shadow: 
+I do protest I never loved myself 501 
+Till now infixed J] beheld myself 
+Drawn in the flattering table of her eye. 
+[Whispers with Blanch. 
+Bast. Drawn in the flattering table of her 
+eye! 
+' Hang’d in the frowning wrinkle of her brow! 
+And guarter'’d in her heart! he doth espy 
+Himself love’s traitor: this is pity now, 
+
+
+KING JOHN 
+
+
+415 
+
+
+That, hang’d and drawn and quarter’d, there 
+should be 
+In such a love so vile a lout as he. 
+Blanch. My uncle’s will in this respect is 
+mine: 510 
+If he see aught in you that makes him like, 
+That any thing he sees, wh.ch moves his 
+liking, 
+I can with ease translate it to my will; 
+Or if you will, to speak more properly, 
+i will enforce it easily to my love. 
+Further I will not flatter you, my lord, 
+That all I see in you is worthy love, 
+Than this; that nothing do I see in you, 
+Though churlish thoughts themselves should 
+be your judge, 
+That I can find should merit any hate. 520 
+K. John. What say these young ones? 
+What say you, my niece? 
+Blanch. That she is bound in’ honour still 
+to do 
+What you in wisdom still vouchsafe to say. 
+K. John. Speak then, prince Dauphin; can 
+you love this lady? 
+Lew. Nay, ask me if I can refrain from 
+love; 
+For I do love her most unfeignedly. 
+K. John. Then do I give Volquessen, Tou- 
+raine, Maine, 
+Poictiers and Anjou, these five provinces, 
+With her to thee; and this addition more, 
+Full thirty thousand marks of English coin, 
+Philip of France, if thou be pleased withal, 
+Command thy son and daughter to joix 
+hands. 
+K. Phi. It likes us well; 
+close your hands. 
+Aust. And your lips too; for I am wel? 
+assured 
+That I did so when I was first assured. 
+K. Phi. Now, citizens of Angiers, ope you: 
+gates, 
+Let in that am‘ty which you have made; 
+For at Saint Mary’s chapel presently 
+The rites of marriage shall be solemnized. 
+Is not the Lady Constance in this troop? 546 
+I know she is not, for this match made up 
+Her presence would have interrupted much: 
+Where is she and her son? tell me, who knows. 
+Lew. She is sad and passionate at your 
+highness’ tent. 
+K. Phi. And, by my faith, this league that 
+we have made 
+Will give her sadness very little cure. 
+Brother of England, how may we content 
+This widow lady? In her right we came; 
+Which we, God knows, have turn'’d another 
+way, 
+To our own vantage. 
+
+
+young princes, 
+
+
+416 
+
+
+KING JOHN 
+
+
+[Acr III, Se. Il 
+
+
+K, John. We will heal up all; 550 
+For we'll create young Arthur Duke of 
+Bretagne 
+And Earl of Richmond; and this rich fair 
+town 
+We make him lord of. Call the Lady Con- 
+stance; 
+Some speedy messenger bid her repair 
+To our solemnity: I trust we shall, 
+If not fill up the measure of her will, 
+Yet in some measure satisfy her so 
+That we shall stop her exclamation. 
+Go we, as well as haste will suffer us, 
+‘To ths unlook'd for, unprepared pomp. 560 
+[Exeunt all but the Bastard. 
+Bast. Mad world! mad kings! mad com- 
+position ! 
+eae to stop Arthur’s title in the whole, 
+ath willingly departed with a part, 
+And France, whose armour conscience buckled 
+on, 
+‘Whom zeal and charity brought to the field 
+As God's own soldier, rounded in the ear 
+With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil, 
+That broker, that still breaks the pate of faith, 
+That daly break-vow, he that wins of all, 
+Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, 
+maids, 570 
+Who, having no external thing to lose 
+But the word ‘maid,’ cheats the poor maid of 
+that, 
+That smooth-faced gentleman, tickling Com- 
+modity, 
+‘Commodity, the bias of the world, 
+The world, who of itself is peised well, 
+‘Made to run even upon even ground, 
+Till this advantage, this v-le-drawing bias, 
+This sway of motion, this Commodity} 
+Makes it take head from all indifferency, 
+From all direction, purpose, course, intent: 
+And this same bias, this Commodity, 
+This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word, 
+Clapp'd on the outward eye of fickle France, 
+‘Hath drawn him from his own determined aid, 
+From a resolved and honourable war, 
+To a most base and vile-concluded peace. 
+And why rail I on this Commodity ? 
+But for because he hath not woo'd me yet: 
+Not that I have the power to clutch my hand, 
+When his fair angels would salute my palm; 
+But for my hand, as unattempted yet, 591 
+Like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich. 
+‘Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail 
+And say there is no sin but to be rich; 
+And being rich, my virtue then shall be 
+To say there is no vice but beggary. 
+Since kings break faith upon commodity, 
+‘Gain, by my lord, for I will worship thee. 
+[ Exit. 
+
+
+ACT III. 
+
+
+Scene I. The French Kina’'s pavilion, 
+Enter ConNsTANCE, ARTHUR, and SALISBURY, 
+
+
+Const. Gone to be married! gone to swear 
+a peace! 
+False blood to false blood join'd! gone to be 
+fr.ends! 
+Shall Lewis have Blanch, and Blanch those 
+provinces ? 
+It is not so; thou hast misspoke, misheard; 
+Be well advised, tell o'er thy tale again: 
+It cannot be thou dost but say ‘tis so: ; 
+I trust I may not trust thee; for thy word 
+Is but the vain breath of a common man: 
+Believe me, I do not believe thee, man; 
+I have a king’s oath to the contrary. 10 
+Thou shalt be punish’d for thus fighting me, 
+For I am sick and capable of fears, 
+Oppress’d with wrongs and therefore full of 
+fears, 
+A widow, husbandless, subject to fears, 
+A woman, naturally born to fears; 
+And though thou now confess thou didst but 
+jest, 
+With my vex'd spirits I cannot take a truce, 
+But they will quake and tremble all this day, 
+What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head? 
+Why dost thou look so sadly on my son? 20 
+What means that hand upon that breast of 
+thine? 
+Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum, 
+Like a proud river peering o’er his bounds? 
+Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words? 
+Then speak agasn; not all thy former tale, 
+But this one word, whether thy tale be true. 
+Sal. As true as I believe you think them 
+false 
+That give you cause to prove my saying true. 
+Const. O, if thou teach me to believe this 
+sorrow, 
+Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die, 
+And let belief and life encounter so 
+As doth the fury of two desperate men 
+Which in the very meeting fall and die. 
+Lewis marry Blanch! O boy, then where art 
+thou? 
+France friend with England, what becomes 
+of me? 
+Fellow, be gone: I cannot brook thy sight: 
+This news hath made thee a most ugly man. 
+Sal. What other harm have I, good lady, 
+done, 
+But spoke the harm that is by others done? 
+Const. Which harm within itself so het 
+nous is 
+As it makes harmful all that speak of it. 41 
+Arth. 1 do beseech you, madam, be con: 
+tent. 
+
+
+VA ae ye! 
+
+
+Act III, Se. I] 
+
+
+Const. If thou, that bid'st me be content, 
+wert grim, 
+Ugly and slanderous to thy mother’s womb, 
+Full of unpleasing blots and sightless stains, 
+Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious, 
+Patch’d with foul moles and eye-offending 
+marks, 
+I would not care, I then would be content, 
+For then I should not love thee, no, nor thou 
+Become thy great birth nor deserve a crown. 50 
+But thou art fair, and at thy birth, dear boy, 
+Nature and Fortune join’d to make thee great: 
+Of Nature's gifts thou mayst with lilies boast 
+And with the half-blown rose. But Fortune, O, 
+She is corrupted, changed and won from thee; 
+She adulterates hourly with thine uncle John, 
+And with her golden hand hath pluck’d on 
+France ; 
+To tread down fair respect of sovereignty, 
+And made his majesty the bawd to theirs. 59 
+France is a bawd to Fortune and King John, 
+That strumpet Fortune, that usurping John! 
+Tell me, thou fellow, is not France forsworn? 
+Envenom him with words, or get thee gone 
+And leave those woes alone which I alone 
+Am bound to under-bear. 
+Sal. Pardon me, madam, 
+I may not go without you to the kings. 
+Const, Thou mayst, thou shalt; I will not 
+go with thee: 
+I will instruct my sorrows to be proud; 
+For grief is proud and makes his owner stoop. 
+To me and to the state of my great grief 70 
+Let kings assemble; for my grief 's so great 
+That no supporter but the huge firm earth 
+Can hold it up: here I and sorrows sit; 
+Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it. 
+[Seats herself on the ground. 
+
+
+Enter Kinc Joun, Kinc Puiwip, Lewis, 
+Brancu, Exinor, the BAstarp, AusTRIA, 
+and Attendants. 
+
+
+K, Phi. ‘Tis true, fair daughter; and this 
+blessed day 
+Ever in France shall be kept festival: 
+To solemnize this day the glorious sun 
+Stays in his course and plays the alchemist, 
+Turning with splendour of his precious eye 
+The meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold: 
+The yearly course that brings this day about 
+Shall never sce it but a holiday. 
+Const. A wicked day, and not a holy day! 
+[ Rising. 
+What hath this day deserved? what hath it 
+done, 
+That it in golden letters should be set 
+Among the high tides in the calendar? 
+Nay, rather turn this day out of the week, 
+This day of shame, oppression, perjury. 
+
+
+KING JOHN 
+
+
+417 
+
+
+Or, if it must stand still, let wives with child 
+Pray that their burthens may not fall this day, 
+Lest that their hopes prodigiously be cross’d: 
+But on this day let seamen fear no wreck; 
+No bargains break that are not this day made: 
+This day, all things begun come to ill end, 
+Yea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change! 
+K. Phi. By heaven, lady, you shall have 
+no cause 
+To curse the fair proceed’ngs of this day: 
+Have | not pawn’d to you my majesty ? 
+Const. You have beguiled me with a coun- 
+
+
+terfeit 
+Resembling majesty, which, being touch’d 
+and tried, 100 
+
+
+Proves valueless: you are forsworn, forsworn; 
+
+You came in arms to spill mine enemies’ blood, 
+
+But now in arms you strengthen it with yours: 
+
+The grappling vigour and rough frown of wax 
+
+Is cold in amity and painted peace, 
+
+And our oppression hath made up this league 
+
+Arm, arm, you heavens, against these perjured 
+kings! 
+
+A widow cries; be husband to me, heavens! 
+
+Let not the hours of this ungodly day 
+
+Wear out the day in peace; but, ere sunset, 
+
+Set armed discord ‘twixt these perjured kings! 
+
+Hear me, O, hear me! 
+
+
+Aust. Lady Constance, peace! 
+Const. War! war! no peace! peace is to 
+me a war. 
+O Lymoges! O Austria! thou dost shame 
+
+
+That bloody spoil: thou slave, thou wretch, 
+thou coward! 
+Thou little valiant, great in villany! 
+Thou ever strong upon the stronger side! 
+Thou Fortune’s champion that dost never fight 
+But when her humorous ladyship is by 
+To teach thee safety! thou art perjured too, 
+And soothest up greatness. What a fool art 
+thou, 
+A ramping fool, to brag and stamp and swear 
+Upon my party! Thou cold-blooded slave, 
+Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side, 
+Been sworn my soldier, bidding me depend 
+Upon thy stars, thy fortune and thy strength, 
+And dost thou now fall over to my foes? 
+Thou wear a lion’s hide! doff it for shame, 
+And hang a calf’s-skin on those recreant limbs. 
+Aust. O, that a man should speak those 
+words to me! 130 
+Bast. And hang a calf’s-skin on those re- 
+creant limbs. 
+Aust. Thou darest not say so, villain, for 
+thy life. 
+Bast. And hang a calf's-skin on those re- 
+creant limbs. 
+K. John. We like not this; thou dost forget 
+thyself, 
+
+
+418 
+
+
+Enter PANDULPH. 
+
+
+K.Phi. Here comes the holy legate of the 
+pope. 
+Pand. Hail, of 
+heaven! 
+To thee, King John, my holy errand is. 
+I Pandulph, of fair Milan cardinal, 
+And from Pope Innocent the legate here, 
+Do in his name religiously demand 140 
+Why thou against the church, our holy mother, 
+So wilfully dost spurn; and force perforce 
+Keep Stephen Langton, chosen, archbishop 
+Of Canterbury, from that holy see? 
+This, in our aforesaid holy father’s name, 
+Pope Innocent, I do demand of thee. 
+
+
+you anointed deputies 
+
+
+K. John. What earthly name to interro- 
+
+
+gatories 
+Can task the free breath of a sacred king? 
+Thou canst not, cardinal, devise a name 
+So slight, unworthy and ridiculous, 
+To charge me to an answer, as the pope. 
+Tell him this tale; and from the mouth of 
+England 
+Add thus much more, that no Italian priest 
+Shall tithe or toll in our dominions; 
+But as we, under heaven, are supreme head, 
+So under Him that great supremacy, 
+Where we do reign, we will alone uphold, 
+Without the assistance of a mortal hand: 
+So tell the pope, all reverence set apart 
+To him and his usurp’d authority. 160 
+K. Phi. Brother of England, you blas- 
+pheme in. this. 
+K. John. Though you and all the kings of 
+Christendom 
+Are led so grossly by this meddling priest, 
+Dreading the curse that money may buy out; 
+And by the merit of vile gold, dross, dust, 
+Purchase corrupted pardon of a man, 
+Who in that sale sells pardon from himself, 
+Though you and all the rest so grossly led 
+This juggling witchcraft with revenue cherish, 
+Yet I alone, alone do me oppose 170 
+Against the pope and count his friends my 
+foes. 
+Pand. ‘Then, by the lawful power that | 
+have, 
+Thou shalt stand cursed and excommunicate: 
+And blessed shall he be that doth revolt 
+From his allegiance to an heretic; 
+And meritorious shall that hand be call'd, 
+Canonized and worsh‘pp'd as a saint, 
+That takes away by any secret course 
+Thy hateful life. 
+Const. O, lawful let it be 
+That I have room with Rome to curse awhile! 
+Good father cardinal, cry thou amen 181 
+To my keen curses: for without my wrong 
+
+
+150 
+
+
+KING JOHN 
+
+
+(Acr Ill, Sc. 1 
+
+
+There is no tongue hath power to curse him 
+
+right. 
+
+Pand. There's law and warrant, lady, for 
+
+my curse. 
+
+Const, And for mine too: when law can 
+
+do no right, 
+
+Let it be lawful that law bar no wrong: 
+
+Law cannot give my child his kingdom here, 
+
+For ‘i that holds his kingdom holds the 
+
+aw; 
+
+Therefore, since law itself is perfect wrong, 
+
+How can the law forbid my tongue to curse? 
+Pand. Philip of France, on peril of a curse, 
+
+Let go the hand of that arch-heretic; 
+
+And raise the power of France upon his head, 
+
+Unless he do submit himself to Rome. 
+
+Eli. Look’st thou pale, France? do not let 
+
+go thy hand. 
+
+Const. Look to that, devil; lest that France 
+
+repent, 
+
+And by disjoining hands, hell lose a soul. 
+Aust. King Philip, listen to the cardinal. 
+Bast. And hang a calf’s-skin on his re- 
+
+creant limbs. 
+
+Aust. Well, ruffian, I must pocket up these 
+
+wrongs, 200 
+ecause— 
+
+Bast. Your breeches best may carry them. 
+
+K. John. Philip, what say’st thou to the 
+
+cardinal > 
+
+Const. What should he say, but as the 
+
+cardinal > 
+
+Lew. Bethink you, father; for the differ- 
+
+ence 
+
+Is purchase of a heavy curse from Rome, 
+
+Or the light loss of England for a friend: 
+
+Forego the easier. 
+
+Blanch. That's the curse of Rome. 
+
+Const. O Lewis, stand fast! the devi! 
+
+tempts thee here 
+
+In likeness of a new untr'mmed bride. 
+Blanch. The Lady Constance speaks not 
+
+from her faith, 210 
+
+But from her need. 
+
+Const. O, if thou grant my need, 
+Which only lives but by the death of faith, 
+That need must needs infer this principle, 
+That faith would live again by death of need. 
+O then, tread down my need, and faith 
+
+mounts up; 
+
+Keep my need up, and faith is trodden down! 
+K. John. The king is moved, and answers 
+
+not to th’s. 
+
+Const. O, be removed from him, and an- 
+
+swer well! 
+
+Aust. Do so, King Philip; hang no more 
+
+in doubt. 
+
+Bast. Hang nothing but a calf’s-skin, most 
+
+sweet lout. 226 
+
+
+“a 
+
+
+KING JOHN 
+
+
+419 
+
+
+K. Phi. 1 am perplex'd, and know not 
+what to say. 
+Pand. What canst thou say but will per- 
+plex thee more, 
+If thou stand excommunicate and cursed? 
+K.Phi. Good reverend father, make my 
+person yours, 
+And tell me how you would bestow yourself. 
+This royal hand and mine are newly knit, 
+And the conjunction of our inward souls 
+Married in league, coupled and link’d together 
+With all religious strength of sacred vows; 
+The latest breath that gave the sound of words 
+Was deep-sworn faith, peace, amity, true love 
+Between our kingdoms and our royal selves, 
+And even before this truce, but new before, 
+No longer than we well could wash our hands 
+To clap this royal bargain up of peace, 
+Heaven knows, they were besmear'd and 
+over-stain'’d 
+With slaughter’s pencil, where revenge did 
+aint 
+The fearful difference of incensed kings: 
+And shall these hands, so lately purged of 
+blood, 
+So newly join’d in love, so strong in both, 240 
+Unyoke this seizure and this kind regreet? 
+Play fast and loose with faith? so jest with 
+heaven, 
+Make such unconstant children of ourselves, 
+As now again to snatch our palm from palm, 
+Unswear faith sworn, and on the marriage- 
+bed 
+Of smiling peace to march a bloody host, 
+And make a riot on the gentle brow 
+Of true sincerity? O, holy sir, 
+My. reverend father, let it not be so! 
+Out of your grace, devise, ordain, impose 
+Some gentle order; and then we shall be 
+blest 
+To do your pleasure and continue friends. 
+Pand. All form is formless, order order- 
+less, 
+Save what is opposite to England’s love. 
+Therefore to arms! be champion of our church, 
+Or Jet the church, our mother, breathe her 
+curse, 
+A mother’s curse, on her revolting son. ~ 
+France, thou mayst hold a serpent by the 
+tongue, 
+A chafed lion by the mortal paw, 
+A fasting tiger safer by the tooth, 260 
+Than keep in peace that hand which thou dost 
+‘hold. 
+K.Phi. 1 may disjoin my hand, but not 
+my faith. 
+Pand. So makest thou faith an enemy to 
+faith; : 
+
+
+And like a civil war’set’st oath to oath, 
+
+
+Thy tongue against thy tongue. 
+vow J 
+First made to heaven, first be to heaven per- 
+form’'d, 
+That is, to be the champion of our church! 
+What since thou sworest is sworn against thy- 
+self 
+And may not be performed by thyself, 
+For that which thou hast sworn to do amiss 
+Is not amiss when it is truly done, 271 
+And being not done, where doing tends to i!!, 
+The truth is then most done not doing 1: 
+The better act of purposes mistook 
+Is to mistake again; though indirect, 
+Yet indirection thereby grows direct, 
+Sey aR falsehood cures, as fire cools 
+re 
+Within the scorched veins of one new-burn’d. 
+It is a religion that doth make vows kept: 
+But thou hast sworn against religion, 280 
+But what thou swear’st against the thing thou 
+swear st, i 
+And makest an oath the surety for thy. truth 
+Against an oath: +the truth thou art unsure 
+To swear, swears only not to be forsworn; 
+Else what a mockery should it be to swear! 
+But thou dost swear only to be forsworn; 
+And most forsworn, to keep what thou dos? 
+swear. 
+Therefore thy later vows against thy first 
+Is in thyself rebellion to thyself; 289 
+And better conquest never canst thou make 
+Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts 
+Against these giddy loose suggestions: 
+Upon which better part our prayers come in, 
+If thou vouchsafe them. But if not, then knew 
+The peril of our course light on thee 
+So heavy as thou shalt not shake them off, 
+But in despair die under their black weight. 
+Aust. Rebellion, flat rebellion! 
+Bast. Will’t not be> 
+Will not a calf’s-skin stop that mouth of 
+thine > 
+Lew. Father, to arms! : 
+Blanch. Upon thy wedding-day? 30) 
+Against the blood that thou hast married? 
+What, shall our feast be kept with slaughter'd 
+men? 
+Shall braying trumpets and loud churl’ch 
+drums, x 
+Clamours of hell, be measures to our pomp > 
+O husband, hear me! ay, alack, how new 
+Is husband in my mouth! even for that name, 
+Which till this time my tongue did ne'er pre- 
+nounce, 
+Upon my knees I beg, go not to arms 
+Against mine’ uncle. 
+Const. O, upon my knee 
+Made hard with kneeling, I do pray t thee, 
+
+
+O, ‘let thy 
+
+
+420 
+
+
+‘Thou virtuous Dauphin, alter not the doom 
+forethought by heaven! 
+Blanch. Now shall I see thy love: 
+motive may 
+Be stronger with thee than the name of wife? 
+
+
+Const. That which upholdeth him that thee 
+
+
+what 
+
+
+upholds, 
+His honour: O, thine honour, Lewis, thine 
+
+honour ! 
+Lew. | muse your majesty doth seem so 
+
+
+; cold, 
+When such profound respects do pull you on. 
+Pand, I will denounce a curse upon his 
+head, 
+K. Phi. Thou shalt not need. England, I 
+will fall from. thee. 320 
+Const. O fair return of banish’d majesty! 
+Eli. O foul revolt of French inconstancy ! 
+K. John. France, thou shalt rue this hour 
+within this hour. 
+. Bast. Old Time the clock-setter, that bald 
+sexton Time, 
+Is it as he will? well, then, France shall rue. 
+Blanch. The sun’s o’ercast with blood: 
+fair day, adieu! 
+Which is the side that I must go withal ? 
+1 am with both: each army hath a hand; 
+And in their rage, I having hold of both, 
+They whirl asunder and dismember me. 
+Husband, I cannot pray that thou mayst win; 
+Uncle, I needs must pray that thou mayst 
+lose ; 
+Father, I may not wish the fortune thine; 
+Grandam, I will not wish thy wishes thrive: 
+Whoever wins, on that side shall I lose; 
+Assured loss before the match be play’d. 
+Lew. Lady, with me, with me thy fortune 
+lies. 
+Blanch. There where my fortune lives, 
+there my life dies. 
+K. John. Cousin, go draw our puissance 
+together. [Exit Bastard. 
+France, I am burn'd up with inflaming wrath; 
+AX rage whose heat hath this condition, 341 
+That nothing can allay, nothing but blood, 
+
+
+The blood,. and dearest-valued blood, of 
+France. 
+K. Phi. Thy rage shall burn thee up, and 
+
+
+thou shalt turn 
+To ashes, ere our blood shall quench that fre: 
+Look to thyself, thou art in jeopardy. 
+K. John. No mere than he that threats. 
+
+
+To arms let’s hie! [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. The same. Plains near Angiers. 
+Alarums, excursions. Enter the BASTARD, 
+with Austria’s head. 
+
+Now, by my life, this day grows | 
+het: 
+
+
+Bast. 
+
+
+wandr OPUS. 
+
+
+KING JOHN 
+
+
+[Acr III, Se. Tl 
+
+
+Some airy devil hovers in the sky 
+nd pours down mischief. Austria’s head lie 
+
+
+there, 
+While Philip breathes. 
+Enter Kinc JonN, ARTHUR, and Huserrt. 
+
+
+K. John. Hubert, keep this boy. Philip, 
+make up: 
+My mother is assailed in our tent, 
+And ta’en, I fear. 
+ast. My lord, I rescued her; 
+Her highness is in safety, fear you not: 
+But on, my liege; for very little pains 
+Will bring this labour to a happy end. 
+
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+Scene III. The same. 
+Alarums, excursions, retreat. Enter Kine 
+Joun, Exinor, ArtHur, the Bastarp, 
+
+
+Husert, and Lords. 
+
+
+K. John. [to Elinor] So shall it be; your 
+grace shall stay behind 
+So strongly guarded. [To Arthur] Cousin, 
+look not sad: 
+Thy grandam loves thee; and thy uncle will 
+As dear be to thee as thy father was. 
+Arth. O, this w.ll make my mother die 
+with grief! 
+K. John. [To the Bastard] Cousin, away 
+for England! haste before: 
+And, ere our coming, see thou shake the bags 
+Of hoarding abbots; imprisoned angels 
+Set at liberty: the fat ribs of peace 
+Must by the hungry now be fed upon: 
+Use our commission in his utmost force. 
+Bast. Bell, book, and candle shall not 
+drive me back, 
+When gold and silver becks me to come cn. 
+I leave your highness. Grandam, I will pray, 
+If ever I remember to be holy, 
+For your fair safety; so, I kiss your hand. 
+Eli. Farewell, gentle cousin. 
+K. John. Coz, farewell. [Exit Bastard, 
+Eli. Come hither, little kinsman; hark, a 
+word, 
+K. John. Come hither, Hubert, O my gen- 
+tle Hubert. 
+We owe thee much! within this wall of flesh 
+There is a soul counts thee her creditor 
+And with advantage means to pay thy love: 
+And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath 
+Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished. 
+Give me thy hand. I had a thing to say, 
+But I will fit it with some better t'me. 
+By heaven, Hubert, I am almost ashamed 
+To say what good respect I have of thee. 
+Hub, 1 am much bounden to your majesty, 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+Act III, Sc, IV] 
+
+
+K. John. Good friend, thou hast no cause 
+to say so yet, 
+
+But thou shalt have; and creep time ne'er so 
+slow, 
+
+Yet it shall come for me to do thee good. 
+
+{ had a thing to say, but let it go: 
+
+The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day, 
+
+Attended with the pleasures of the world, 
+
+Is all too wanton and too full of gawds 
+
+To give me audience: if the midnight bell 
+
+Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth, 
+
+Sound on into the drowsy race of night: — 
+
+If this same were a churchyard where we 
+stand, 
+
+And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs, 
+
+Or if that surly spirit, melancholy, 
+
+Had baked thy blood and made it heavy- 
+thick, 
+
+Which else runs tickling up and down the veins, 
+
+Making that idiot, laughter, keep men’s eyes 
+
+And strain their cheeks to idle merriment 
+
+A passion hateful to my purposes, 
+
+Or if that thou couldst see me w_thout eyes, 
+
+Hear me without thine ears, and make reply 
+
+Without a tongue, using conceit alone, 50 
+
+Without eyes, ears and harmful sound of 
+words; 
+
+Then, in despite of brooded watchful day, 
+
+I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts: 
+
+But, ah, I will not! yet I love thee well; 
+
+And, by my troth, I think thou lovest me well. 
+
+Hub. So well, that what you bid me un- 
+
+dertake, 
+
+
+Though that my death were adjunct to my act, 
+
+
+By heaven, I would do it. 
+
+K. John. Do not I know thou wouldst? 
+Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye 
+On yon young boy: I'll tell thee what, my 
+
+friend, 60 
+He is a very serpent in my way; 
+And wheresoe’er this foot of mine doth tread, 
+He lies before me: dost thou understand me? 
+Thou art his keeper. 
+
+Hub. And I'll keep him so, 
+That he shall not offend your majesty. 
+
+
+K. John. Death. 
+Hub. My lord? 
+
+K. John. A grave. 
+
+Hub. He shall not live. 
+K. John. Enough. 
+
+
+I could be merry now. Hubert, I love thee; 
+Well, I'll not say what I intend for thee: 
+Remember. Madam, fare you well: 
+
+I'll send those powers o’er to your majesty. 
+
+Eli. My blessing go with thee! 
+
+K. John. For England, cousin, go: 
+Wubert shall be your man, attend on you 
+With all true duty. On toward Calais, ho! 
+
+[ Exeunt. 
+
+
+KING JOHN 
+
+
+423 
+
+
+Scene IV. The same. The French Kinc’s 
+
+
+tent, 
+
+
+Enter Kinc Pui, Lewis, PANDULPH, and 
+Attendants. 
+
+
+K.Phi. So, by a roaring tempest on the 
+flood, 
+A whole armado of convicted sail 
+Is scatter'd and disjoin’'d from fellowship. ~ 
+Pand: Courage and comfort! all shall yet 
+go well. 
+K. Phi. What can go well, when we have 
+run so ill? 
+Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers lost? 
+Arthur ta’en prisoner? divers dear friends 
+slain? 
+And bloody England into England gone, 
+O’erbearing interruption, spite of France? 
+Lew. What he hath won, that hath he 
+fortified: 10 
+So hot a speed with such advice disposed, 
+Such temperate order in so fierce a cause, 
+Doth want example: who hath read or heard 
+Of any kindred action like to this? 
+K.Phi. Well could I bear that England 
+had this praise, 
+So we could find some pattern of our shame. 
+
+
+Enter CONSTANCE. 
+
+
+Look, who ‘comes here! a grave unto 4 soul; 
+Holding the eternal spirit, against her will, 
+In the vile prison of afflicted breath. 
+
+I prithee, lady, go away with me. 20 
+
+Const. Lo, now! now see the issue of your 
+
+peace. 
+
+K.Phi. Patience, good lady! comfort, gen- 
+
+tle Constance! 
+
+Const. No, I defy all counsel, all redress, 
+But that which ends all counsel, true redress, 
+Death, death; O amiable lovely death! 
+Thou odoriferous stench! sound rottenness! 
+Arise forth from the couch of lasting night, 
+Thou hate and terror to prosperity, 
+
+And I will kiss thy detestable bones 
+And put my eyeballs in thy vaulty brows 30 
+And ring these fingers with thy household 
+worms 
+And stop this gap of breath with fulsome 
+dust 
+And be a carrion monster like thyself: 
+Come, grin on me, and I will think thou 
+smilest 
+And buss thee as thy wife. Misery’s love, 
+O, come to me! 
+K. Phi. O fair affliction, peace! 
+Const. No, no, I will not, having breath to 
+
+
+cry: 
+O, that my tongue were in the thunder’s 
+mouth! 
+
+
+422 
+
+
+Then with a passion I would shake the world; 
+
+
+And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy 40 
+
+
+Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice, 
+Which scorns a modern: invocation. 
+
+
+Pand. Lady, you-utter madness, and not 
+
+
+sorrow. 
+Const. Thou art not holy to belie me so; 
+I am not mad: this hair I tear is mine; 
+My name is Constance; | was Geffrey’s wife; 
+Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost: 
+f am not mad: I would to heaven | were! 
+For then, 'tis like I should forget myself: 
+
+
+O, if I could, what grief I should forget! 50 
+
+
+Preach some philosophy to make me mad, 
+And thou shalt be canonized, cardinal; 
+For being not mad but sensible of grief, 
+My reasonable part produces reason 
+
+How I may be deliver’d of these woes, 
+And teaches me to kill or hang myself: 
+
+{f I were mad, I should forget my son, 
+Or madly think a babe of clouts were he: 
+[ am not mad; too well, too well I feel 
+
+
+The different plague of each calamity. 60 
+Bind up those tresses. O, what 
+
+
+K. Phi. 
+love I note 
+In the fair multitude of those her hairs! 
+Where but by chance a silver drop hath fallen, 
+Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends 
+Do glue themselves in sociable grief, 
+Like true, inseparable, faithful loves, 
+Sticking .toether in calamity. 
+Const. To England, if you will. 
+K. Phi. B-nd up your hairs. 
+Const. Yes, that I will; and wherefore will 
+I do it? 
+I tore them from their bonds and cried aloud 
+‘O that these hands could so redeem my son, 
+As they have given these hairs their liberty!’ 
+But now I envy at. their liberty, 
+And will again commit them to their bonds, 
+Because my poor child is a prisoner. 
+And, father card’nal, I have heard you say 
+That we shall see and know our friends in 
+heaven: 
+if that be true, I shall see my boy again; 
+For since the birth of Cain, the first male 
+child, 
+To him that did but yesterday suspire, 80 
+There was not such a gracious creature born. 
+But now will canker sorrow eat my bud 
+And chase the native beauty from his cheek 
+And he will look as hollow as a ghost, 
+As dim and meagre as an ague’s fit, 
+And so he'll die; and, rising so again, 
+When I shall meet h’m in the court of heaven 
+It shall not know him: therefore, never, never, 
+Must I behold my pretty Arthur more. 
+Pand. You hold too heinous a respect of 
+grief. 90 
+
+
+KING JOHN. 
+
+
+fi 
+
+
+fia eens 
+
+
+Const. He talks to me that never had a son. 
+
+
+K.Phi. You are as fond of grief as of 
+
+
+your child. 
+
+
+Const. Grief fills the room up of my absent 
+
+
+child, 
+Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, 
+Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, 
+Remembers me of all his gracious parts, 
+
+
+Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; 
+
+
+Then, have I reason to be fond of grief > 
+Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, 
+
+
+I could give better comfort than you do. 100 
+
+
+I will not keep this form upon my head, 
+When there is such disorder in my wit. 
+
+O Lord! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son! 
+My life, my joy, my fobd, my all the world! 
+My widow-comfort, and my sorrows’ cure! 
+
+
+[Exit. . 
+! K.Phi. 1 fear some outrage, and I'll fol- \ 
+| low her. [Exit | 
+
+
+Lew. There's nothing in this world can) 
+
+
+make me joy: 
+
+
+‘Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale 
+| Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man; A 
+And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet 
+
+
+world’s taste, 110 
+That it yields nought but shame and bitter- 
+ness. 
+Pand. Before the curing of a strong dis- 
+ease, 
+Even in the instant of repair and health, 
+The fit is strongest; evils that take leave, 
+On their departure most of all show evil: 
+What have you lost by losing of this day? 
+Lew. All days ef glory, joy and happiness. 
+Rand, If you had won it, certainly you 
+had. 
+No, no; when Fortune means to men most 
+good, 
+She looks upon them with a threatening eye. 
+"Tis strange to think how much King John 
+hath lost 
+In this which he accounts so clearly won: 
+Are not you grieved that Arthur is his pris- 
+oner > 
+Lew. As heartily as he is glad he hath him. 
+Pand. Your mind is all as youthful as 
+your blood. 
+Now hear me speak with a prophetic spirit; 
+For even the breath of what I mean to speak 
+Shall ai each dust, each straw, each little 
+rub, 
+Out of the path which shall directly lead 
+Thy foot to England’s throne; and therefore 
+mark. 130 
+John hath seized Arthur; and it cannot be 
+That, whiles warm life plays in that infant's 
+veins, 
+The misplaced John should entertain an hour 
+
+
+[Acr III, Se. IV 
+
+
+g 
+P 
+
+
+S ere » ‘ 
+
+
+Acr IV, Sc. I] 
+
+
+KING JOHN 
+
+
+423 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest. 
+A sceptre snatch’d with an unruly hand 
+‘Must be as boisterously maintain’d as gain’d; 
+And he that stands upon a slippery place 
+Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up: 
+That John may stand, then Arthur’ needs 
+must fall; 
+So be it, for it cannot be but so. 140 
+Lew. But what shall I gain by young 
+Arthur’s fall > 
+
+
+Pand. You, in the right of Lady Blanch. 
+
+
+your wife, 
+May then make all the claim that Arthur did. 
+Lew. And lose it, life and all, as Arthur 
+did. 
+_ Pand. How green you are and fresh in 
+this old world! 
+John lays you plots; the times conspire with 
+you; 
+For he that steeps his safety in true blood 
+Shall find but bloody safety and untrue. 
+This act so evilly born shall cool the hearts 
+Of all his people and freeze up their zeal, 
+That none so small advantage shall step forth 
+To check his reign, but they will cherish it; 
+No natural exhalation in the sky, 
+No scope of nature, no distemper’d day, 
+No common wind, no customed event, 
+But they will pluck away his natural cause 
+And call them meteors, prodigies and signs, 
+Abortives, presages and tongues of heaven, 
+Plainly denouncing vengeance upon John. 
+Lew. May be he will not touch young 
+Arthur's life, 160 
+But hold himself safe in his prisonment. 
+Pand. O, sir, when he shall hear of your 
+approach, 
+If that young Arthur be not gone already, 
+Even at that news he dies; and then the hearts 
+Of all his people shall revolt from him 
+And kiss the lips of unacquainted change 
+And pick strong matter of revolt and wrath 
+Out of the bloody fingers’ ends of John. 
+Methinks I see this hurly all on foot: 
+And, O, what better matter breeds for you 170 
+Than I have named! The bastard Faulcon- 
+bridge 
+Is now in England, ransacking the church, 
+Offending charity: if but a dozen French 
+Were there in arms, they would be as a call 
+To train ten thousand English to their side, 
+Or as a little snow, tumbled about, 
+Anon becomes a mountain. O noble Dauphin, 
+Go with me to the king: ‘tis wonderful 
+What may be wrought out of their discontent, 
+Now that their souls are topfull of offence. 180 
+For England go: I will whet on the king. 
+Lem. Strong reasons make strong actions: 
+let us go: 
+
+
+If you say ay, the king will not say no. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT IV. 
+
+
+Scene I. A room in a castle. 
+Enter Hupert and Executioners. 
+
+
+Hub. Heat me these irons hot; and look 
+thou stand 
+Within the arras: when I strike my foot 
+Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth, 
+And bind the boy which you shall find with 
+me 
+Fast to the chair: be heedful: hence, and 
+watch. ; 
+First Exec. 1 hope your warrant will bear 
+out the deed. 
+Hub. Uncleanly scruples! fear not you: 
+look to ’t. [Exeunt Executioners. 
+Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you. 
+
+
+Enter ARTHUR. 
+Arth. Good morrow, Hubert. 
+
+
+Hub. Good morrow, little prince. 
+
+Arth. As little prince, having so great a 
+title 
+
+To be more prince, as may be. You are sad, 
+
+Hub. Indeed, I have been merrier. 
+
+Arith. Mercy on me! 
+Methinks no body should be sad but I: 
+Yet, | remember, when I was in France, 
+Young gentlemen would be as sad as night, 
+Only for wantonness. By my christendom, 
+So I were out of prison and kept sheep, 
+
+I should be as merry as the day is long; 
+And so I would be here, but that I doubt 
+My uncle practises more harm to me: 
+He is afraid of me and I of him: 
+Is it my fault that I was Geffrey’s son? 
+No, indeed, ist not; and I would to heaven 
+I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert. 
+Hub. [Aside] lf | talk to him, with his 
+innocent prate 
+He will awake my mercy which lies dead: 
+Therefore I will be sudden and dispatch. 
+Arth. Are you sick, Hubert? you look 
+pale to-day: 
+In sooth, I would you were a little sick, 
+That I might sit all night and watch with you: 
+I warrant I love you more than you do me. 31 
+Hub. [Aside] His words do take posses- 
+sion of my bosom 
+Read here, young Arthur. [Showing a paper. 
+0 [Aside] How now, foolish rheum! 
+Turning dispiteous torture out of door! 
+I must be brief, lest resolution drop 
+Out at mine eyes in tender womanish tears. 
+Can you not read it? is it not fair writ? 
+Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul 
+
+
+effect: 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+424 
+
+
+Must you with hot irons burn out both mine 
+
+
+eyes? 
+Hub. Young boy, | must. 
+Arth. And will you? 
+Hub. And I will. 40 
+
+
+Arth, Have you the heart? 
+head did but ache, 
+I knit my handkerchief about your brows, 
+The best I had, a princess wrought it me, 
+And I did never ask it you again; 
+And with my hand at midnight held your head, 
+And like the watchful minutes to the hour, 
+Still and anon cheer’d up the heavy time, 
+Saying ‘What lack you?’ and “Where lies 
+your grief >’ 
+Ox “What good love may I perform for you?’ 
+Many a poor man’s son would have lien still 
+And ne'er have spoken a loving word to you; 
+But you at your sick service had a prince. 
+Nay, you may think my love was crafty love 
+And call it cunning: do, an if you will: 
+If heaven be pleased that you must use me ill, 
+Why then you must. Will you put out mine 
+eyes? 
+These eyes that never did nor never shall 
+Se much as frown on you. 
+Hub. I have sworn to do it; 
+And with hot irons must I burn them out. 
+Arth, Ah, none but in this iron age would 
+do it! 60 
+The iron of itself, though heat red-hot, 
+Approaching near these eyes, would drink my 
+tears 
+And quench his fiery indignation 
+Even in the matter of mine innocence; 
+Nay, after that, consume away in rust, 
+But for containing fire to harm mine eye. 
+Are you more stubborn-hard than hammer’d 
+iron? 
+An if an angel should have come to me 
+And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes, 
+I would not have believed him,—no tongue 
+
+
+but Hubert’s. 70 
+Hub. Come forth. [ Stamps. 
+
+
+Re-enter Executioners, with a cord, iron, &c. 
+
+
+Do as I bid you do. ; 
+Arth. O, save me, Hubert, save me! my 
+eyes are out 
+Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men. 
+Hub. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him 
+here. 
+Arth, Alas, what need you be so boister- 
+ous-rough ? 
+I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. 
+For heaven sake, Hubert, let me not be bound! 
+Nay, hear me, Hubert, drive these men away, 
+And I will sit as quiet as a lamb; 80 
+
+
+J will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word. 
+
+
+When your 
+
+
+KING JOHN 
+
+
+eee eee eee SS 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc. I 
+
+
+Nor look upon the iron angerly: 
+Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive 
+you, 
+Whatever torment you do put me to. 
+Hub. Go, stand within; let me alone with 
+him. 
+First Exec. 1 am best pleased to be from 
+such a deed. [Exeunt Executioners, 
+Arth. Alas, 1 then have chid away my 
+friend! 
+He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart: 
+Let him come back, that his compassion may 
+Give life to yours. 
+Hub. Come, boy, prepare yourself. 90 
+Arth, Is there no remedy? 
+Hub. None, but to lose your eyes. 
+Arth. O heaven, that there were but a 
+mote in yours, 
+A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair, 
+Any annoyance in that precious sense! 
+Then feeling what small things are bo‘sterous 
+there, 
+Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. 
+Hub. Is this your promise? go to, hold 
+your tongue. 
+Arth, Hubert, the utterance of a brace of 
+tongues 
+Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes: 
+Let me not hold my tongue, let me not, 
+Hubert; 
+Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue 10! 
+So I may keep mine eyes; O, spare mine eyes, 
+Though to no use but still to look on you! 
+Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold 
+And would not harm me. 
+Hub. “ I can heat it, boy. 
+Arth. No, in good sooth; the fire is dead 
+with grief, 
+Being create for comfort, to be used 
+In undeserved extremes: see else yourself; 
+There is no malice in this burning coal; 
+The breath of heaven hath blown his spirix 
+out 110 
+And strew'd repentant ashes on his head. 
+Hub. But with my breath I can revive it, 
+boy. 
+Arth. An if you do, you will but make it 
+blush 
+And glow with shame of your proceedings, 
+Hubert: 
+Nay, it perchance will sparkle in your eyes; 
+And like a dog that is compell’d to fight, 
+Snatch at his master that doth tarre him on. 
+All things that you should use to do me wrong 
+Deny their office: only you do lack 
+That mercy which fierce fire and iron extends, 
+Creatures of note for mercy-lacking uses. 121 
+Hub. Well, see to live; I will not touch 
+thine eye 
+
+
+era 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. Ij 
+
+
+For all the treasure that thine uncle owes: 
+Yet am I sworn and I did purpose, boy, 
+With this same very iron to burn them out. 
+Arth. O, now you look like Hubert! all 
+this while 
+You were disguised. 
+
+Hub. Peace; no more. Adieu. 
+Your uncle must not know but you are dead; 
+I'll fill these dogged spies with false reports: 
+And, pretty child, sleep doubtless and secure, 
+That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world, 
+Will not offend thee. 
+
+Arth. 
+
+
+Hub. Silence; no more: go closely in with 
+
+
+me: 
+Much danger do | undergo for thee. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. Kine Joun’s palace. 
+
+
+Enter Kinc JoHN, PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, 
+and other Lords. 
+
+
+K. John. Here once again we sit, once 
+again crown’d, 
+~ And looked upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes. 
+Pem. This ‘once again,’ but that your 
+highness pleased, 
+Was once superfluous: you were crown'd 
+before, 
+And that high royalty was ne'er pluck'd off, 
+The faiths of men ne’er stained with revolt; 
+Fresh expectation troubled not the land 
+With any long’d-for change or better state. 
+Sal. Therefore, to be possess’d with double 
+pomp, 
+To guard a title that was rich before, 10 
+To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, 
+To throw a perfume on the violet, 
+To smooth the ice, or add another hue 
+Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light 
+To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, 
+Js wasteful and ridiculous excess. 
+Pem. But that your royal pleasure must 
+be done, 
+This act is as an ancient tale new told, 
+And in the last repeating troublesome, 
+Being urged at a time unseasonable. 20 
+Sal. In this the antique and well noted face 
+Of plain old form is much disfigured; 
+And, like a shifted wind unto a sail, : 
+it makes the course of thoughts to fetch about, 
+Startles and frights consideration, 
+Makes sound opinion sick and truth suspected, 
+For putting on so new a fashion’d robe. 
+Pem. When workmen strive to do better 
+than well, 
+
+They do confound their ski'] in covetousness; 
+“ And oftentimes excusing of a fault 30 
+Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse, 
+
+As patches set upon a little breach 
+Diseredit more in hiding of the faults 
+
+
+KING JOHN 
+
+
+O heaven! I thank you, Fabert! And 
+
+
+425 
+
+
+Than-did the fault before it was so patch’d. 
+Sal. To this effect, before you were new 
+crown’d, 
+We breathed our counsel: but it pleased your 
+highness 
+To overbear it, and we are all well pleased, 
+Since all and every part of what we would 
+Doth make a stand at what your highness will. 
+K. John. Some reasons of this double coro- 
+nation 
+I fave possess’'d you with and think them 
+strong; 
+nd more, more strong, then lesser is my fear, 
+I shall indue you with: meantime but ask 
+What you would have reform'd that is not 
+well, 
+And well shall you perceive how willingly 
+I will both hear and grant you your requests. 
+Pem. Then I, as one that am the tongue of 
+these 
+To sound the purposes of all their hearts, 
+Both for myself and them, but, chief of all, 
+Your safety, for the which myself and them 
+Bend their best stud’es, heartily request 
+The enfranchisement of Arthur; whose re- 
+straint 
+Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent 
+To break into this dangerous argument,— 
+If what in rest you have in right you hold, 
+Why then your fears, which, as they say, attend 
+The steps of wrong, should move you %0 mew 
+up 
+Your tender kinsman and to choke his days 
+With barbarous ignorance and deny h’s youth 
+The rich advantage of good exercise? 60 
+That the time’s enemies may not have this 
+To grace occasions, let it be our suit 
+That you have bid us ask his liberty; 
+Which for our goods we do no further ask 
+Than whereupon our weal, on you depending, 
+Counts it your weal he have his liberty. 
+
+
+Enter Hupert. 
+K, John. Let it be so: I do commit his 
+
+
+youth 
+To your direction. Hubert, what news with 
+you? [Taking him apart. 
+
+
+Pem. This is the man should do the bloody 
+deed ; 
+He show’d his warrant to a friend of mine: 70 
+The image of a wicked heinous fault 
+Lives in his eye; that close aspect of his 
+Does show the mood of a much troubled breast; 
+And I do fearfully believe ‘tis done, 
+What we so fear’d he had a charge to do. 
+Sal. The colour of the king doth come 
+and go 
+Between his purpose and his conscience, 
+Like heralds ‘twixt two dreadful battles sets 
+
+
+426 
+
+
+KING JOHN 
+
+
+WUT oe trae Fa 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc. I 
+
+
+Se nee eSTIISENE STIS 
+
+
+His passion is so ripe, it needs must break. 
+
+Pem. And when it breaks, I fear will issue 
+thence 80 
+
+The foul corruption of a sweet child’s death. 
+K. John. We cannot hold mortality’s strong 
+
+hand: 
+
+Good lords, although my will to give is living, 
+
+The suit-which you demand is gone and dead: 
+
+He tells us Arthur is deceased to-night. 
+Sal. Indeed we fear'd his sickness was past 
+
+cure. 
+Pem. Indeed we heard how near his death 
+he was 
+
+Before the child himself felt he was sick: 
+
+This must be answer'd e:ther here or hence. 
+K. John. Why do you bend such solemn 
+
+brows on me? 
+
+Think you I bear the shears of destiny > 
+ave I commandment on the pulse of life? 
+Sal. It is apparent foul play; and ’tis shame 
+
+That greatness should so grossly offer it: 
+
+So thrive it in your game! and so, farewell. 
+Pem. Stay yet, Lord Salisbury; I'll go 
+
+with thee, 
+
+And find the inheritance of this poor child, 
+
+His little kingdom of a forced grave. 
+
+That blood which owed the breath of all 
+
+this isle. 
+
+Three foot of it doth hold: bad world the 
+
+while! 100 
+
+This must not be thus borne: this will break 
+
+out 
+
+To all our sorrows, and ere long I doubt. 
+
+[Exeunt Lords. 
+K. John. They burn in indignation. | 
+repent; 
+
+There is no sure foundation set on blood, 
+
+No certain |.fe achieved by others’ death. 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+A fearful eye thou hast: where is that blood 
+That I have seen inhabit in those cheeks? 
+So foul a sky clears not without a storm: 
+Pour down thy weather: how goes all in 
+France? 
+Mess. From France to England. Never 
+such a power 110 
+For any foreign preparation 
+Was levied in the body of a land. 
+The copy of your speed is learn’d by them; 
+For when you should be told they do prepare, 
+The tidings comes that they are all arrived. 
+K. John. O, where hath our intelligence 
+been drunk? i 
+Where hath it slept? Where is my mother’s 
+care, 
+That such an army could be drawn in France, 
+And she not hear of it? 
+
+
+Mess. My liege, her ear 
+
+
+Is stopp’d with dust; the first of April died 
+Your noble mother: and, as | hear, my lord, 
+The Lady Constance in a frenzy died 
+
+
+Three days before: but this from rumour’s — 
+
+
+tongue 
+I idly heard; if true or false I know not, 
+K. John. Withhold thy speed, dreadful 
+occasion! 
+O, make a league with me, till I have pleased 
+My discontented peers! What! mother dead! 
+How wildly then walks my estate in France! 
+Under whose conduct came those powers of 
+France 
+That thou for truth givest out are landed here? 
+Mess. Under the Dauphin. 
+K. John. | Thou hast made me giddy 131 
+
+
+90| With these ill tid.ngs. 
+
+
+Enter the Bastarp and PETER of Pomfret. 
+
+
+Now, what says the world 
+To your proceedings? do not seek to stuff 
+My head with more ill news, for it is full. 
+Bast. But if you be afraid to hear the worst, 
+Then let the worst unheard fall on your head. 
+John. Bear with me, cousin; for I was 
+amazed 
+Under the tide: but now I breathe again 
+Aloft the flood, and can give audience 
+To any tongue, speak it of what it will. 140 
+Bast. How I have sped among the clergy- 
+men, 
+The sums I have collected shall express. 
+But as I travell’d hither through the land, 
+I find the people strangely fantasied; 
+Possess’d with mmours, full of idle dreams, 
+Not knowing what they fear, but full of fear: 
+And here ’s a prophet, that I brought with me 
+From forth the streets of Pomfret, whom I 
+found 
+With many hundreds treading on his heels; 
+To whom he sung, in rude harsh-sounding 
+rhymes, 1 
+That, ere the next Ascension-day at noon, 
+Your highness should deliver up your crown. 
+John. Thou idle dreamer, wherefore 
+didst thou so? 
+Peter. Foreknowing that the truth will fall 
+out so. 
+
+K. John. Hubert, 
+prison him; 
+And on that day at noon, whereon he says - 
+I shall yield up my crown, let him be hang’d, 
+
+Deliver him to safety; and return, 
+For I must use thee. [Exit Hubert with Peter. 
+O my gentle cousin, 
+Hear'st thou the news abroad, who are arrived? 
+Bast. The French, my lord; men's mouths 
+are full of it: 
+
+
+16} 
+Besides, | met Lord Bigot and Lord Salisbury, 
+
+
+away with him; im- 
+
+
+A 
+
+
+Se 
+
+
+Rend Vi seciH 
+
+
+With eyes as red as new-enkindled fire, 
+_ And others more, going to seek the grave 
+
+_ Of Arthur, whom they say is kill’d to-night 
+_ On your suggestion. 
+
+K. John. Gentle kinsman, go, 
+And thrust thyself into their companies: 
+
+I have a way to win their loves again; 
+Bring them before me. . 
+Bast. I will seek them out. 
+
+K. John. Nay, but make haste; the better 
+foot before. 170 
+O, let me have no subject enemies, 
+‘When adverse foreigners affright my towns 
+With dreadful pomp of stout invasion! 
+Be Mercury, set feathers to thy heels, 
+And fly like thought from them to me again. 
+Bast. The spirit of the time shall teach me 
+
+
+speed. [Exit. 
+K. John. Spoke like a sprightful noble 
+gentleman. 
+
+
+Go after him; for he perhaps shall need 
+“Some messenger betwixt me and the peers; 
+And be thou he, 
+
+Mess. With all my heart, my liege. 180 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+K. John. My mother dead! 
+Re-enter HuBert. 
+
+
+Hub. My lord, they say five moons were 
+seen to-night; 
+Four fixed, and the Sfth did whirl about 
+The other four in wondrous motion. 
+K. John. Five moons! 
+Hub. Old men and beldams in the streets 
+Do prophesy upon it dangerously: 
+Young Arthur’s death is common in_ their 
+mouths: 
+And when they talk of him, they shake their 
+heads 
+And whisper one another in the ear; 
+And he that speaks doth gripe the hearer’s 
+wrist, 190 
+Whilst he that hears makes fearful action, 
+With wnnkled brows, with nods, with rolling 
+eyes. 
+I saw a smith stand wth his hammer, thus, - 
+The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool, 
+With open mouth swallowing a tailor’s news; 
+Who, with his shears and measure in his hand, 
+Standing on slippers, which his nimble haste 
+fad falsely thrust upon contrary feet, 
+Told of a many thousand warlike French 
+That were embatta led and rank'd in Kent: 
+Another lean unwash'd artificer 
+Cuts off his tale and talks of Arthur’s death. 
+K. John. Why seek’st thou to possess me 
+with these fears? 
+Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur's death? 
+
+
+KING JOHN 
+
+
+427 
+
+
+Thy hand hath murder’d him: I had a mighty 
+
+cause 
+
+To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill 
+
+him. 
+
+Hub. No had, my lord! why, did you not 
+provoke me? 
+
+K. John. It is the curse of kings to be 
+attended 
+
+By slaves that take their humours for a war- 
+
+rant 
+
+To break within the bloody house of life, 210 
+
+And on the winking of authority 
+
+To understand a law, to know the mean‘ng 
+
+Of dangerous majesty, when perchance it 
+
+frowns 
+
+More upon humour than advised respect. 
+Hub. Here is your hand and seal for what 
+
+I did. 
+K. John. O, when the last account ‘twixt 
+heaven and earth 
+
+Is to be made, then shall this hand and seal 
+
+Witness against us to damnation! 
+
+How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds 
+
+Make deeds ill done! Hadst not thou been by, 
+
+A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd, 22] 
+
+Quoted and sign’d to do a deed of shame, 
+
+This murder had not come into my mind: 
+
+But taking note of thy abhorr’d aspect, 
+
+Find’ng thee fit for bloody villany, 
+
+Apt, liable to be employ’d in danger, 
+
+I faintly broke with thee of Arthur's death; 
+
+And thou, to be endeared to a king, 
+
+Made it no conscience’ to destroy a prince. 
+Hub. My lord,— 230 
+K. John. Hadst thou but shook thy head 
+
+or made a pause 
+
+When I spake darkly what I purposed, 
+
+Or turn’d an eye of doubt upon my face, 
+
+As bid me tell my tale in express words, 
+
+Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me 
+
+break off, 
+
+And those thy fears might have wrought fears 
+
+in me: 
+
+But thou didst understand me by my signs 
+
+And didst in signs again parley with sin; 
+
+Yea, without stop, didst let thy heart consent, 
+
+And consequently thy rude hand to act 240 
+
+The deed, which both our tongues held vile 
+
+to name. 
+
+Out of my sight, and never see me more! 
+
+My nobles leave me; and my state is braved, 
+
+Even at my gates, with ranks of foreign 
+
+powers: 
+
+Nay, in the body of this fleshly land, 
+
+This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath, 
+
+Hostility and civil tumult reigns 
+
+Between my conscience and my cousin's death. 
+Hub, Arm you against your other enemies, 
+
+
+(I'll make a peace between your soul and you, 
+
+
+428 
+
+
+Young Arthur is alive: this hand of mine 251 
+
+Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand, 
+
+Not painted with the crimson spots of blood. 
+
+Within this bosom never enter'd yet 
+
+The dreadful motion of a murderous thought; 
+
+And you have slander’d nature in my form, 
+
+Which, howsoever rude exteriorly, 
+
+Is yet the cover of a fairer mind 
+
+Than to be butcher of an innocent child. 
+K. John. Doth Arthur live? O, haste thee 
+
+to the peers, 260 
+
+Throw this report on their incensed rage, 
+
+And make them tame to their obedience! 
+
+Forgive the comment that my passion made 
+
+Upon thy feature; for my rage was blind, 
+
+And foul imaginary eyes of blood 
+
+Presented thee more hideous than thou art. 
+
+O, answer not, but to my closet bring 
+
+The angry lords with all expedient haste. 
+
+I conjure thee but slowly; run more fast. 
+
+
+Scene Ill. Before the castle. 
+Enter ArtTHUuR, on the walls. 
+Arth. The wall is high, and yet will I leap 
+
+
+down: 
+Good ground, be pitiful and hurt me not! 
+There's few or none do know me: if they did, 
+This ship-boy’s semblance hath disguised me 
+quite. 
+I am afraid; and yet I'll venture it. 
+If I get down, and do not break my limbs, 
+I'll find a thousand shifts to get away: 
+As good to die and go, as die and stay. 
+[Leaps down. 
+O me! my uncle’s spirit is in these stones: 
+Heaven take my soul, and England keep my 
+bones! [Dies. 10 
+
+
+Enter PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, and BicoT. 
+Sal. Lords, I will meet him at Saint Ed- 
+
+
+mundsbury : 
+It is our safety, and we must embrace 
+This gentle offer of the perilous time. 
+Pem. Who brought that letter from the 
+cardinal ? 
+Sal. The Count Melun, a noble lord of 
+France; 
+Whose private with me of the Dauphin’s love 
+Is much more general than these lines import. 
+Big. To-morrow morning let us meet him 
+then. 
+
+Sal. Or rather then set forward; for ‘twill be 
+Two long days’ journey, lords, or ere we meet. 
+Enter the BasTarD. 
+
+Bast. Once more to-day well met, dis- 
+temper’d lords! 
+
+The king by me requests your presence straight. 
+
+Sal. The king hath dispossess'd himself of 
+
+
+uss 
+
+
+KING JOHN 
+
+
+{Acr IV, Sc. If 
+
+
+We will not line his thin bestained cloak 
+With our pure honours, nor attend the foot 
+That leaves the print of blood where’er it 
+walks. 
+Return and tell him so: we know the worst. 
+Bast. Whate’er you think, good words, I 
+think, were best. 
+Sal. Our griefs, and not our manners, rea- 
+son now. 
+Bast. But there is little reason in your grief ; 
+Therefore twere reason you had manners: now. 
+Pem. Sir, sir, impatience hath his privilege. 
+Bast, "Tis true, to hurt his master, no man 
+
+
+else. 
+Sal, This is the prison. What is he lies 
+here ? [Seeing Arthur. 
+
+
+Pem. O death, made proud with pure and 
+princely beauty! 
+The earth had not a hole to hide this deed. 
+
+Sal. Murder, as hating what himself hath 
+
+done, 
+Doth lay it open to urge on revenge. 
+
+Big. Or, when he doom’d this beauty to a 
+
+grave, 
+Found it too precious-princely for a grave. 40 
+
+Sal. Sir Richard, what think you? have 
+
+you beheld, 
+
+Or have you read or heard? or could you 
+think ? 
+
+Or do you almost think, although you see, 
+
+That you do see? could thought, without this 
+object, 
+
+Form such another? This is the very top, 
+
+The height, the crest, or crest unto the crest, 
+
+Of murder’s amms: this is the bloodiest shame, 
+
+The wildest savagery, the vilest stroke, 
+
+That ever wall-eyed wrath or staring rage 
+
+Presented to the tears of soft remorse. 
+
+Pem. All murders past do stand excused in 
+
+this: 
+
+And this, so sole and so unmatchable, 
+
+Shall give a holiness, a purity, 
+
+To the yet unbegotten sin of times; 
+
+And prove a deadly bloodshed but a jest, 
+
+Exampled by this heinous spectacle. 
+
+Bast. It is a damned and a bloody work; 
+The graceless action of a heavy hand, 
+
+If that it be the work of any hand. 
+
+Sal. If that it be the work of any hand! 
+We had a kind of light what would ensue: 
+It is the shameful work of Hubert’s hand; 
+The practice and the purpose of the king: 
+From whose obedience | forbid my soul, 
+Kneeling before this ruin of sweet life, 
+And breathing to his breathless excellence 
+The incense of a vow, a holy vow, 
+Never to taste the pleasure of the world, 
+Never to be infected with delight, 
+
+Nor conversant with ease and idleness, 
+
+
+76 
+
+
+Act IV, Se. II] 
+
+
+KING JOHN 
+
+
+429 
+
+
+Till I have set a glory to this hand, 
+By giving it the worship of revenge. 
+
+Pem. ae souls religiously confirm thy 
+Big. words. 
+
+
+Enter Husert. 
+
+
+Hub. Lords, I am hot with haste in seek- 
+ing you: 
+Arthur doth live; the king hath sent for you. 
+Sal. O, he is bold and blushes not at death. 
+Avaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone! 
+Hub. 1 am-no villain. 
+val, Must I rob the law? 
+[Drawing his sword. 
+
+
+Bast. Your sword is bright, sir; put it up 
+again. 
+Sal. Not till I sheathe it in a murderer’s 
+skin. 80 
+Hub. Stand back, Lord Salisbury, stand 
+back, I say; 
+~ By heaven, I think my sword’s as sharp as 
+
+
+yours: 
+I would not have you, lord, forget yourself, 
+Nor tempt the danger of my true defence; 
+Lest I, by marking of your rage, forget 
+Your worth, your greatness and nob lity. 
+Big. Out, dunghill; darest thou brave a 
+nobleman >? 
+Hub. Not for my life: but yet I dare de- 
+fend 
+
+
+My innocent life against an emperor. 
+
+
+Sal. Thou art a murderer. 
+Hub. Do not prove me so; 90 
+Yet I am none: whose tongue soe’er speaks 
+false, 
+
+
+Not truly speaks; who speaks not truly, lies. 
+Pem. Cut him to pieces. 
+Bast. Keep the peace, I say. 
+Sal. Stand by, or I shall gall you, Faul- 
+conbridge. 
+Bast. Thou wert better gall the devil, Salis- 
+bury: 
+If thou but frown on me, or stir thy foot, 
+Or teach thy hasty spleen to do me shame, 
+I'll strike thee dead. Put up thy sword be- 
+time; 
+Or I'll maul you and your toasting-iron, 
+That you shall think the devil is come from 
+hell. 100 
+Big. What wilt thou do, renowned Faul- 
+conbridge ? 
+Second a villain and a murderer? 
+Hub. Lord Bigot, I am none. 
+Big. Who kill’d this prince? 
+Hub. ‘Tis not an hour since I left him 
+well: 
+I honour'd him, I loved him, and will weep 
+My date of life out for his sweet life’s loss. 
+
+
+Sal. Trust not those cunning waters of his 
+eyes, 
+
+For villany is not without such rheum; 
+And he, long traded in it, makes it seem 
+Like rivers of remorse and innocency. 
+Away with me, all you whose souls abhor 
+The uncleanly savours of a slaughter-house; 
+For I am stifled with this smell of sin. 
+
+Big. Away toward Bury, to the Dauphin 
+
+there! 
+
+Pem. There tell the king he may inquire 
+
+us out. [Exeunt Lords. 
+Bast. Here’s a good world! Knew you 
+of this fair work? 
+Beyond the infinite and boundless reach 
+Of mercy, if thou didst this deed of death, 
+Art thou damn’d, Hubert. 
+Hub. Do but hear me, sir. 
+Bast. Ha! I'll tell thee what; 120 
+Thou ‘rt damn’d as black—nay, nothing is 
+so black; 
+
+Thou art more deep damn'd than Prince 
+Lucifer: 
+
+There is not yet so ugly a fiend of hell 
+
+As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this child. 
+
+Hub, Upon my soul— 
+
+Bast. If thou didst but consent 
+To ths most cruel act, do but despair; 
+And if thou want’st a cord, the smallest thread 
+That ever spider twisted from her womb 
+Will serve to strangle thee; a rush will be a 
+
+
+110 
+
+
+beam 
+To hang thee on; o. wouldst thou drown thy- 
+self, 130 
+
+
+Put but a little water in a spoon, 
+And it shall be as all the ocean, 
+
+Enough to stifle such a villain up. 
+I do suspect thee very grievously. 
+
+Hub. If | in act, consent, or sin of thought, 
+Be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath 
+Which was embounded in this beauteous clay, 
+Let hell want pains enough to tortur:; me. 
+I left him well. 
+
+Bast. Go, bear him in thin arms. 
+
+I am amazed, methinks, and lost my way 140 
+Among the thorns and dangers of this world. 
+How easy dost thou take all England up! 
+From forth this morsel of dead royalty, 
+The life, the right and truth of all this realm 
+Is fled to heaven; and England now is left 
+To tug and scamble and to part by the teeth 
+The unowed interest of proud-swelling state. 
+Now for the bare-pick’d bone of majesty 
+Doth dogged war bristle his angry crest 
+And snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace: 150 
+Now powers from home and discontents at 
+home 
+Meet in one line; and vast confusion waits, 
+As doth a raven on a sick-fall’n beast, 
+
+
+430 
+
+
+The imminent decay of wrested pomp. 
+
+Now happy he whose cloak and cincture can 
+
+Hold out this tempest. Bear away that child 
+
+And follow me with speed: I'll to the king: 
+
+A thousand businesses are brief in hand, 
+
+And heaven itself doth frown upon the land. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT V. 
+
+
+Scene I. Kine Joun’s palace, 
+
+
+Enter Kinc JouHNn, PANDULPH, and 
+Attendants. 
+
+
+K. John. Thus have I yielded up into 
+your hand 
+The circle of my glory. [Giving the crown. 
+Pand. Take again 
+From this my hand, as holding of the pope 
+Your sovereign greatness and authority. 
+K. John. Now keep your holy word: go 
+meet the French, 
+And from his holiness use all your power 
+To stop their marches ‘fore we are inflamed. 
+Cur discontented counties do revolt; 
+Our people quarrel with obedience, 
+Swearing allegiance and the love of soul 
+To stranger blood, to foreign royalty. 
+This inundation of mistemper'd humour 
+Rests by you only to be qualified: 
+Then pause not; for the present time ’s so sick, 
+That present medicine must be minister’d, 
+Or overthrow incurable ensues. 
+Pand. It was my breath that blew this 
+tempest up, 
+Upon your stubborn usage of the pope; 
+But since you are a gentle convertite, 1 
+My tongue shall hush again this storm of war 
+And make fair weather in your blustering land. 
+On this Ascension-day, remember well, 
+Upon your oath of service to the pope, 
+Go I to make the French lay down their arms. 
+[Exit. 
+Did not 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+K. John. Js this Ascension-day ? 
+the» prophet 
+Say that before Ascension-day at noon 
+My crown I should give off? Even so I have: 
+I did suppose it should be on constraint; 
+But, heaven be thank’d, it is but voluntary. 
+
+
+Enter the BasTarp. 
+
+
+Bast. All Kent hath yielded; 
+there holds out 
+But Dover castle: London hath received, 
+Like a kind host, the Dauphin and his powers: 
+Your nobles will not hear you, but are gone 
+To offer service to your enemy, 
+
+
+nothing 
+0 
+
+
+KING JOHN 
+
+
+x 
+
+
+And wild amazement hurries up and down 
+The little number of your doubtful friends. 
+K. John. Would not my lords return to 
+me again, 
+After they heard young Arthur was alive? 
+Bast. They found him dead and cast into 
+the streets, 
+An empty casket, where the jewel of life 40 
+By some damn’d hand was robb’d and ta’en 
+away. 
+K. John. That villain Hubert told me he 
+did live. 
+Bast. So, on my soul, he did, for aught 
+he knew. 
+But wherefore do you droop? why look you 
+sad? 
+Be great in act, as you have been in thought; 
+Let not the world see fear and sad distrust 
+Govern the motion of a kingly eye: 
+Be stirring as the time; be fire with fire; 
+Threaten the threatener and outface the brow 
+Of bragging horror: so shall inferior eyes, 50 
+That borrow their behaviours from the great, 
+Grow great by your example and put on 
+The dauntless spirit of resolution. 
+Away, and glister like the god of war, 
+When he imtendeth to become the field: 
+Show boldness and asp‘ring confidence. 
+What, shall they seek the lion in his den, 
+And fright him there? and make him tremble 
+there? 
+O, let it not be said: forage, and run 
+To meet displeasure farther from the doors, 60 
+And grapple with him ere he come so nigh. 
+K. John. The legate of the pope hath been 
+with me, 
+And I have made a happy peace with him; 
+And he hath promised to dismiss the powers 
+Led by the Dauphin. 
+
+Basi. O inglorious league! 
+Shall we, upon the footing of our land, 
+Send fair-play orders and make compromise, 
+Insinuation, parley and base truce 
+To arms invasive? shall a beardless boy, 
+
+A cocker'd silken wanton, brave our fields, 70 
+
+And flesh his spirit in a warlike soil, 
+
+Mocking the air with colours idly spread, 
+
+And find no check? Let us, my liege, to 
+arms: 
+
+Perchance the cardinal cannot make your 
+peace; 
+
+Or if he do, let it at least be said 
+
+They saw we had a purpose of defence. 
+
+K. John. Have thou the ordering of this 
+
+present time. 
+
+Bast. Away, then, with good courage! 
+
+I know, 
+Our party may well meet a prouder foe. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+yet, 
+
+
+> 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. 1 
+
+
+Se 
+
+
+‘a i 
+i ye wy nS 
+
+
+ras 
+
+
+vf 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+. 
+
+
+‘ScENE II, 
+
+
+ae te 
+
+
+1% 
+
+
+1a 
+
+
+Act V, Sc, II] 
+
+
+KING JOHN 
+
+
+43 
+
+
+The DaupHin’s camp at St. 
+Edmundsbury. 
+
+
+Enter, in arms, Lewis, Sacissury, MELUN, 
+PemsroxeE, Bicot, and Soldiers. 
+
+
+Lew. My lord Melun, let this be. copied 
+out, 
+And keep it safe for our remembrance: 
+Return the precedent to these lords aga‘n; 
+That, having our fair order written down, 
+Both they and we, perusing o’er these notes, 
+May know wherefore we took the sacrament 
+And keep our faiths firm and inv olable. 
+Sal. Upon our sides it never shall. be broken. 
+And, noble Dauphin, albeit we swear 
+A voluntary zeal and an unurged faith 10 
+To your proceedings; yet believe me, prince, 
+I am not glad that such a sore of time 
+Should seek a plaster by contemn'd revolt, 
+And heal the inveterate canker of one wound 
+By making many. O, it grieves my soul, 
+That I must draw this metal from my side 
+To be a widow-maker! O, and there 
+Where honourable rescue and defence 
+Cries out upon the name of Salsbury! 
+But such is the infection of the time, 20 
+That, for the health and physic of our right, 
+We cannot deal but with the very hand 
+Of stern injustice and confused wrong. 
+And is ’t not pity, O my grieved friend, 
+That we, the sons and children of this isle, 
+Were born to see so sad an hour as this; 
+Wherein we step after a stranger march 
+Upon her gentle bosom, and fill up 
+Her enemies’ ranks,—I must withdraw and 
+weep 
+Upon the spot of this enforced cause—— 30 
+To grace the gentry of a land remote, 
+And follow unacquainted colours here? 
+What, here? O nation, that thou couldst re- 
+move! 
+That Neptune’s arms, who cl'ppeth thee about, 
+Would bear thee from the knowledge of thyself, 
+And grapple thee unto a pagan shore; 
+mer these two Christian armies might com- 
+ine 
+The blood of malice in a vein of league,. 
+And not to spend it so unneighbourly! 
+Lew. A noble temper dost thou show in 
+this; 40 
+And great affections wrestling in thy bosom - 
+Doth make an earthquake of nobility. 
+O, what a noble combat hast thou fought 
+Between compulsion and a brave respect! 
+Let me wipe off this honourable dew, 
+That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks: 
+My heart hath melted at a lady’s tears, 
+Being an ordinary inundation; 
+
+
+But this effusion of such manly drops, 49 
+
+
+This shower, blown up by tempest of the soul, 
+Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amazed 
+Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven 
+Figured quite o’er with burning meteors. 
+Lift up thy brow, renowned Salisbury, 
+And with a great heart heave away this storm: 
+Commend these waters to those baby eyes 
+That never saw the gant world enraged; 
+Nor met with fortune other than at~feasts, 
+Full of warm blood, of mirth, of gossiping. 
+Come, come; for thou shalt thrust thy hand 
+as deep 60 
+Into the purse of rich prosperity 
+As Lewis himself: so, nobles, shall you all, 
+That knit your sinews to the strength of mine. 
+And even there, methinks, an angel spake: 
+
+
+Enter PANDULPH. 
+
+
+Look, where the holy legate comes apace, 
+To give us warrant from the hand of heaven, 
+And on our actions set the name of right 
+With holy breath. 
+
+Pand. Hail, noble prince of France! 
+The next is th's, King John hath reconciled 
+Himself to Rome; his spirit is come in, 70 
+That so stood out against the holy church, 
+The great metropolis and see of Rome: 
+Therefore thy threatening colours now wind up; 
+And tame the savage spirit of wild war, 
+That, like a lion foster'd up at hand, 
+
+It may lie gently at the foot of peace, 
+
+And be no further harmful than in show. 
+
+Lew. Your grace shall pardon me, I will 
+
+not back: 
+
+I am too high-born to be propertied, 
+
+To be a secondary at control, 
+
+Or useful serving-man and instrument, 
+
+To any sovereign state throughout the world. 
+
+Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars 
+
+Between this chastised kingdom and myself, 
+
+And brought in matter that should feed this 
+fire; 
+
+And now “tis far too huge to be blown out 
+
+With that same weak wind which enkindled it. 
+
+You taught me how to know the face of right, 
+
+Acquainted me with interest to this land, 
+
+Yea, thrust this enterprise into my heart; 90 
+
+And come ye now to tell me John hath made 
+
+His peace with Rome? What is that peace 
+to me? 
+
+I, by the honour of my marriage-bed, 
+
+After young Arthur, claim this land for mine; 
+
+And, now it is half-conquer’d, must I back 
+
+Because that John hath made his peace with 
+Rome? A 
+
+Am I Rome’s slave? What penny hath 
+Rome borne, 
+
+What men provided, what munition sent, 
+
+To underprop this action? Is't not I 
+
+
+80 
+
+
+432 
+
+
+KING JOHN 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc, Ili 
+
+
+That undergo this charge? who else but I, 100 
+And such as to my claim are liable, 
+Sweat in this business and maintain this war? 
+Have I not heard these islanders shout out 
+‘Vive le roi!’ as | have bank'd their towns? 
+Have I not here the best cards for the game, 
+To win this easy match play’d for a crown? 
+And shall I now give o’er the yielded set? 
+No, no, on my soul, it never shall be said. 
+Pand. You look but on the outside of this 
+work. 
+Lew, Outside or inside, I will not return 110 
+Till my attempt so much be glorified 
+As to my ample hope was promised 
+Before I drew this gallant head of war, 
+And cull'd these fiery spirits from the world, 
+To outlook conquest and to win renown 
+Even in the jaws of danger and of death. 
+[Trumpet sounds. 
+What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us? 
+
+
+Enter the Bastarp, attended. 
+
+
+Bast. According to the fair play of the 
+world, 
+Let me have audience; I am sent to speak: 
+My holy lord of Milan, from the king 120 
+I come, to learn how you have dealt for him; 
+And, as you answer, | do know the scope 
+And warrant limited unto my tongue. 
+
+Pand. The Dauphin is too wilful-opposite, 
+And will not temporize with my entreaties; 
+He flatly says he ‘Il not lay down his arms. 
+
+Bast. By all the blood that ever fury 
+
+breathed, 
+The youth says well. 
+king; 
+For thus his royalty doth speak in me. 
+He is prepared, and reason too he should: 
+This apish and unmannerly approach, 
+This harness’d masque and unadvised revel, 
+This unhair'd sauciness and boyish troops, 
+The king doth smile at; and is well prepared 
+To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms, 
+From out the circle of his territories. 
+That hand which had the strength, even at 
+your door, 
+To cudgel you and make you take the hatch, 
+To dive like buckets in concealed wells, 
+To crouch in litter of your stable planks, 140 
+To lie like pawns lock’d up in chests and 
+trunks, 
+To hug with swine, to seek sweet safety out 
+In vaults and prisons, and to thrill and shake 
+Even at the crying of your nation’s crow, 
+Thinking his voice an armed Englishman; 
+Shall that victorious hand be feebled here, 
+That in your chambers gave you chastisement? 
+No: know the gallant monarch is in arms 
+And like an eagle o'er his aery towers, 
+
+
+Now hear our English 
+
+
+130 
+
+
+To souse annoyance that comes near his nest, 
+
+And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts, 151 
+
+You bloody Neroes, ripping up the womb 
+
+Of your dear mother England, blush for 
+shame; 
+
+For your own ladies and pale-visaged maids 
+
+Like Amazons come tripping after drums, 
+
+Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change, 
+
+Their needles to lances, and their gentle hearts 
+
+To fierce and bloody inclination. 
+
+Lew, There end thy brave, and turn thy 
+
+face in peace; 
+
+We grant thou canst outscold us: 
+well;. 
+
+We hold our time too precious to be spent 161 
+
+With such a brabbler. 
+
+Pand. Give me leave to speak, 
+
+Bast. No, I will speak. 
+
+Lew, We will attend to neither. 
+Strike up the drums; and let the tongue of war 
+Plead for our interest and our being here. 
+
+Bast. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, 
+
+will cry out; 
+And so shall you, being beaten: do but start 
+An echo with the clamour of thy drum, 
+And even at hand a drum is ready braced 
+That shall reverberate all as loud as th ne; 176 
+Sound but another, and another shall 
+As loud as thine rattle the welkin's ear 
+And mock the deep-mouth’d thunder: 
+hand, 
+Not trusting to this halting legate here, 
+Whom he hath used rather for sport than need, 
+Is warlike John; and in his forehead sits 
+A bare-ribb’d death, whose office is this day 
+To feast upon whole thousands of the French. 
+
+Lew, Strike up your drums, to find this 
+
+danger out. 
+
+
+Bast, And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do 
+
+
+fare thee 
+
+
+for at 
+
+
+not doubt. [Exeunt. 180 
+Scene III. The field of battle. 
+Alarums, Enter Kina JoHN and Husert. 
+
+
+K. John. How goes the day with us? O, 
+tell me, Hubert. 
+Hub. Badly, I fear. 
+majesty > 
+K. John. This fever, that hath troubled me 
+so long, 
+Lies heavy on me; O, my heart is sick! 
+
+
+How fares your 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+Mess. My lord, your valiant 
+Faulconbridge, 
+Desires your majesty to leave the field 
+And send him word by me which way you go. 
+K. John. Tell him, toward Swinstead, te 
+the abbey there. 
+
+
+kinsman, 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. IV] 
+
+
+KING JOHN 
+
+
+433 
+
+
+Mess. Be of good comfort; for the great 
+supply 
+That was expected by the Dauphin here, 10 
+Are wreck’d three nights ago on Goodwin 
+Sands. 
+The news was brought to Richard but even 
+now: 
+
+
+The French fight coldly and retire them- 
+selves. 
+
+K. John. Ay me! this tyrant fever burns 
+me up, 
+
+
+And will not let me welcome this good news. 
+
+Set on toward Swinstead: to my litter straight; 
+
+Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene [V. Another part of the field. 
+Enter Savispury, PEMBROKE, and Bicor. 
+
+
+Sal. I did not think the king so stored 
+with friends. 
+Pem. Up once again; put spirit in the 
+French: 
+If they miscarry, we miscarry too. 
+Sal. That misbegotten dey |, Faulconbridge, 
+In spite of spite, alone upholds the day. 
+Pem. They say King John sore sick hath 
+left the field. 
+
+
+Enter MELUN, wounded. 
+Mel. Lead me to the revolts of England 
+
+
+here. 
+Sul. When we were happy we had other 
+names. 
+Pem. It is the Count Melun. 
+Sal. Wounded to death. 
+Mel. Fly, noble English, you are bought 
+and sold; 10 
+Unthread the rude eye of rebellion 
+And welcome home again discarded faith. 
+Seek out King John and fall before his feet; 
+For if the French be lords of this loud day, 
+He means to recompense the pains you take 
+By cutting off your heads: thus hath he sworn 
+And I with him, and many more wth me, 
+Upon the altar at Saint Edmundsbury; 
+Even on that altar where we swore to you 
+Dear amity and everlasting love. 
+Sal. May this be possible? may this be 
+true? 
+Mel. Have I not hideous death within my 
+view, 
+Retaining but a quantity of life, 
+Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax 
+Resolveth from hs figure ‘gainst the fire? 
+What inthe world should make me now 
+deceive, 
+Since I must lose the use of all deceit? 
+Why should J then be false, since it is true 
+What I must die here and live hence by truth? 
+
+
+I say again, if Lewis do win the day, 30 
+He is forsworn, if e’er those eyes of yours 
+Behold another day break in the east: 
+But even this night, whose black contagious 
+breath 
+Already smokes about the burning crest 
+Of the old, feeble and day-wearied sun, 
+Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire, 
+Paying the fine of rated treachery 
+Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives, 
+If Lewis. by your assistance win the day. 
+Commend me to one Hubert with your king: 
+The love of him, and this respect besides, 
+For that my grandsire was an Englishman, 
+Awakes my conscience to confess all this. 
+In lieu whereof, I pray you, bear me hence 
+From forth the noise and rumour of the field. 
+Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts 
+In peace, and part this body and my soul 
+With contemplation and devout desires. 
+Sal. We do believe thee: and beshrew my 
+soul 
+But I do love the favour and ‘the form 50 
+Of this most fair occasion, by the which 
+We will untread the steps of damned flight, 
+And like a bated and retired flood, 
+Leaving our rankness and irregular course, 
+Stoop low within those bounds we have o’er- 
+look’d 
+And calmly run on in obedience 
+Even to our ocean, to our great King John. 
+My arm shall give thee help to bear thee 
+hence; 
+For I do see the cruel pangs of death 
+Fight in thine eye. Away, my friends! New 
+flight; 
+And happy newness, that intends old right. 
+[Exeunt, leading off Melun. 
+
+
+Scene V. The French camp. 
+Enter Lewis and his train. 
+
+
+Lew, The sun of heaven methought was 
+
+loath to set. 
+
+But stay’d and made the western welkin blush, 
+
+When English measure backward their own 
+ground 
+
+In faint retire. O, bravely came we off, 
+
+When with a volley of our needless shot, 
+
+After such bloody toil, we bid good night; 
+
+And wound our tattering colours clearly up, 
+
+Last in the field, and almost lerds of it! 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+Mess. Where is my prince, the Dauphin > 
+
+
+Lew. Here: what news? 
+Mess. The Count Melun is slain; the 
+English lords 10 
+
+
+By his persuasion are again fall'n off, 
+
+
+434 
+
+
+KING JOHN 
+
+
+ee sary EEE 
+
+
+And your supply, which you have wish’d so | ‘To acquaint you with this evil, that you might 
+
+
+long, 
+Are cast away and sunk on Goodwin Sands. 
+Lew. Ah, foul shrewd news! beshrew thy 
+very heart! 
+I did not think to be so sad to-night 
+As this hath made me. Who was he that said 
+King John did fly an hour or two before 
+The stumbling night did part our weary 
+powers ? 
+Mess. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord. 
+Lew. Well; keep good quarter and good 
+care to-night: 20 
+The day shall not be up so soon as 2 
+To try the fair adventure of to-morrow. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene VI. An open place in the neighbour- 
+hood of Swinstead Abbey. 
+
+
+Enter the Bastarp and Husert, severally. 
+
+
+Hub. Who's there? speak, ho! speak 
+
+quickly, or I shoot. 
+
+Bast. A friend. What art thou? 
+
+Hub. Of the part of England. 
+
+Bast. Whither dost thou go? 
+
+Hub. What's that to thee? why may not 
+
+I demand 
+Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine? 
+
+Bast. Hubert, I think? 
+
+Hub. Thou hast a perfect thought: 
+I will upon all hazards well believe 
+Thou art my friend, that know’st my tongue 
+
+so well. 
+Who art thou? 
+
+Bast. Who thou wilt: and if thou please, 
+Thou mayst befriend me so much as to think 
+I come one way of the Plantagenets. 
+
+Hub. Unkind remembrance! thou and eye- 
+
+less night 
+
+Have done me shame: brave soldier, pardon 
+me, 
+
+That any accent breaking from thy tongue 
+
+Should ‘scape the true acquaintance of mine 
+ear. 
+
+Bast. Come, come; sans compliment, what 
+
+news’ abroad ? 
+
+Hub. Why, here walk I in the black brow 
+
+of night, 
+To find you out. 
+Bast. Brief, then; and what's the news? 
+Hub. O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the 
+night, 
+Black, fearful, comfortless and horrible. 20 
+Bast. Show me the very wound of this ill 
+news: 
+I am no woman, I'll not swoon at it. 
+
+Hub. The king, I fear, is poison’d by a 
+
+monk: 
+I left him almost speechless; and broke out 
+
+
+The better arm you to the sudden time, 
+Than if you had at leisure known of this. 
+Bast, How did he take it? who did taste 
+to him? 
+Hub. A monk, I tell you; a resolved 
+villain. 
+Whose bowels suddenly burst out: the king 30 
+Yet speaks and peradventure may recover. 
+Bast. Who didst thou leave to tend his 
+majesty ? 
+Hub. Why, know you not? the lords are 
+all come back, 
+And brought Prince Henry in their company; 
+At whose request the king hath pardon’d them, 
+And they are all about his majesty. 
+Bast, Withhold thine indignation, mighty 
+heaven, 
+And tempt us-not to bear above our power! 
+I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my power this 
+n ght, 
+Passing these flats, are taken by the tide; 40 
+These Lincoln Washes have devoured them; 
+Myself, well mounted, hardly have escaped. 
+Away before: conduct me to the king; 
+I doubt he will be dead or ere I come. 
+[Exeunt. 
+Scene VII. The orchard in Swinstead 
+Abbey. 
+
+
+Enter Prince HENRY, SALISBURY, and BicorT, 
+
+
+P. Hen. It is too late: the life of all his 
+blood 
+Is touch’d corruptibly, and his pure brain, 
+Which some suppose the soul’s frail dwelling- 
+house, 
+Doth by the idle comments that it makes 
+Foretell the ending of mortality. 
+
+
+Enter PEMBROKE, 
+
+
+Pem. His highness yet doth speak, and 
+holds _ belief 
+That, being brought into the open air, 
+It would allay the burning quality 
+Of that fell poison which assaileth him. 
+P, Hen. Let him be brought into the or- 
+chard here. 10 
+Doth he still rage? [Exit Bigot, 
+Pem. He is more patient 
+Than when you left him; even now he sung, 
+P. Hen. O vanity of sickness! fierce ex- 
+tremes 
+In their continuance will not feel themselves, 
+Death, having prey’d upon the outward parts, 
+Leaves them invisible, and his siege is now 
+Against the mind, the which he pricks and 
+wounds 
+With many legions of strange fantasies, 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. VIi - . 
+
+
+“ACE V, Be vi 
+
+
+Which, in their throng and press to that last 
+hold, 
+Confound themselves. 
+should sing. 
+I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, 
+Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death, 
+And from the organ-pipe of frailty sings 
+His soul and body to their lasting rest. 
+Sal. Be of good comfort, prince; for you 
+are born 
+To set a form upon that ind'gest 
+
+
+Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude. 
+
+
+Tis strange that death 
+20 
+
+
+Enter Attendants, and BicotT, carrying 
+Kine JouHN in a chair. 
+
+
+K. John. Ay, marry, now my soul hath 
+elbow-room; 
+It would not out at windows nor at doors. 
+There is so hot a summer in my bosom, 
+That all my bowels crumble up to dust: 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+~-I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen 
+
+
+Upon a parchment, and against this fire 
+Do I shrink up. 
+P. Hen. How fares your majesty > 
+K. John. Poison’d—ill fare—dead, for- 
+sook, cast off: 
+And none of you will bid the winter come 
+To thrust his icy fingers in my maw, 
+Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course 
+Through my burn’d bosom, nor entreat the 
+north 
+To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips 
+And comfort me with cold. I do not ask 
+you much, 4] 
+I beg cold comfort; and you are so strait 
+And so ingrateful, you deny me that. 
+P. Hen. O that there were some virtue in 
+
+
+my tears, 
+That might relieve you! 
+K. John. The salt in them is hot. 
+
+
+Within me is a hell; and there the poison 
+Is as a fiend confined to tyrannize 
+On unreprievable condemned blood. 
+
+
+Enter the) Bastar. 
+
+
+Bast. O, I am scalded with my violent 
+motion, 
+
+
+KING JOHN 
+
+
+435 
+
+
+And module of confounded royalty. 
+
+
+Bast. The Dauphin is preparing hither- 
+ward, 
+Where heaven He knows how we shall an, 
+swer him; 
+
+
+For in a night the best part of my power, 
+As I upon advantage did remove, 
+Were in the Washes all unwarily 
+Devoured by the unexpected flood. 
+[The king dies. 
+Sal. You breathe these dead news in as 
+dead an ear. 
+
+My liege! my lord! but now a king, now thus. 
+
+
+P. Hen. Even so much I run on, and even 
+so stop. 
+What surety of the world, what hope, what 
+stay, 
+
+
+When this was now a king, and now is clay? 
+Bast. Art thou gone so? I do but stay 
+
+behind 70 
+
+To do the office for thee of revenge, 
+
+And then my soul shall wait on thee to 
+heaven, 
+
+As it on earth hath been thy servant still. 
+
+Now, now, you stars that move in your right 
+spheres, 
+
+Where be your powers? show now your 
+mended faiths, 
+
+And instantly return with me again, 
+
+To push destruction and perpetual shame 
+
+Out of the weak door of our fainting land. 
+
+Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be 
+sought; 
+
+The Dauphin rages at our very heels. 80 
+
+Sal. It seems you know not, then, so much 
+
+as we: 
+The Cardinal Pandulph is within at rest. 
+Who half an hour since came from 
+Dauphin, 
+And brings from him such offers of our peace 
+As we with honour and respect may take, 
+With purpose presently to leave this war. 
+
+Bast, He will the rather do it when he sees 
+Ourselves well sinewed to our defence. 
+
+Sal. Nay, it is in a manner done already; 
+For many carriages he hath dispatch'd 90 
+To the sea-side, and put his cause and quarrel 
+To the disposing of the cardinal: 
+
+With whom yourself, myself and other lords, 
+
+
+the 
+
+
+And spleen of speed to see your majesty! 50 | If you think meet, this afternoon will post 
+
+
+K. John. O cousin, thou art come to set 
+
+mine eye: 
+
+The tackle of my heart is crack’d and burn’d. 
+
+And alk the shrouds wherewith my life should 
+sail 
+
+Are turned to one thread, one little hair: 
+
+My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, 
+
+Which holds but till thy news be uttered; 
+
+And then all this thou seest is but a clod 
+
+
+To consummate this business happily. 
+Bast. Let it be so: and you, my noble 
+prince, 
+With other princes that may best be spared, 
+Shall wait upon your father’s funeral. 
+
+
+P. Hen. At Worcester must his body be 
+interr’d; 
+For so he will’d it. 
+Bast. Thither shall it then: 100 
+
+
+436 KING JOHN [Acr V, Se. VII 
+
+
+And happ.ly may your sweet self put on Bast. O, let us pay the time but needful 
+
+
+The lineal state and glory of the land! 
+To whom, with all submission, on my knee 
+
+
+oe, 
+Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs. 
+
+
+I do bequest my faithful services Ths England never did, nor never shall, 
+And true subjection everlastingly. Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, 
+Sal. And the like tender of our love we | But when it first did help to wound itself. 
+
+
+make, Now these her princes are come home again, 
+
+To rest without a spot for evermore. Come the three corners of the world in arrns 
+
+P. Hen. | have a kind soul that would | And we shall shock them. Nought shall 
+give you thanks make us rue, 
+
+And knows not how to do it but with tears. | If England to itself do rest but true. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+sa 
+
+
+THE TRADEGY OF 
+
+
+KING RICHARD II 
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSON/E 
+
+
+Kine Ricuarp the Second, 
+
+JouHN oF Gaunt, Duke 
+of Lancaster, 
+
+EDMUND OF LANGLEY, 
+Duke of York, 
+
+HEnry, surnamed BoiincBRoKE, Duke of 
+Hereford, son to John of Gaunt; after- 
+wards Kinc Henry IV. 
+
+DuKxe or AUuMERLE, son to the Duke of 
+York. 
+
+Tuomas Mowspray, Duke of Norfolk. 
+
+DukE oF Surrey. 
+
+Earv OF SALISBURY. 
+
+Lorp BERKELEY. 
+
+Busny, N 
+
+Bacot, } servants to King Richard. 
+
+GREEN, \ 
+
+Eart or NorTHUMBERLAND. 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+
+
+Scene I. London. Kine Ricuarp’s palace. 
+
+
+Enter Kine RicHarp, JOHN oF Gaunt, with 
+other Nobles and Attendants. 
+
+
+K. Rich. Old John of Gaunt, time-hon- 
+our’d Lancaster, 
+Hast thou, according to thy oath and band, 
+Brought hither Henry Hereford thy bold son, 
+Here to make good the boistrous late appeal, 
+Which then our leisure would not let us hear, 
+Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mow- 
+bray? 
+Gaunt. I have, my liege. 
+K. Rich. Tell me, moreover, hast thou 
+sounded him, 
+If he appeal the duke on ancient malice; 
+Or worthily, as a good subject should, 10 
+On some known ground of treachery in him? 
+Gaunt. As near as | could sift him on that 
+argument, 
+On some apparent danger seen in him 
+Aim’d’at your highness, no inveterate malice. 
+K. Rich. Then call them to our presence; 
+face to face, 
+And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will 
+hear 
+The accuser and the accused freely speak: 
+
+
+uncles to the King. 
+
+
+Henry Percy, surnamed Hotspur, his som 
+Lorp Ross. 
+Lorp WILLouGHBY, 
+Lorp FitzwatTer. 
+Bishop of Carlisle. 
+Abbot of Westminster. 
+Lord Marshal. 
+Sir STEPHEN Scroop, 
+Sir Pierce of Exton. 
+Captain of a band of Welshmen, 
+QUEEN to King Richard. 
+DUuCcHEss OF YoRK. 
+DucHeEss or GLOUCESTER. 
+JLady attending on the Queen, 
+Lords, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, two Garden- 
+ers, Keeper, Messenger, Groom, and other 
+Attendants. 
+England and Wales. 
+
+
+High-stomach’d are they both, and full of ire, 
+
+
+In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire. 
+
+
+SCENE: 
+
+
+Enter BoLincBROKE and Mowsray. 
+
+
+Boling. Many years of happy days befal 
+My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege! 
+Mow. Each day still better other's happi- 
+ness; 
+Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap, 
+Add an immortal title to your crown! 
+K. Rich. We thank you both: yet one but 
+flatters us, 
+As well appeareth by the cause you come; 
+Namely, to appeal each other of high treason. 
+Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object 
+Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mow- 
+
+
+bray ? 
+Boling. First, heaven be the record to my 
+speech! 30 
+
+
+In the devotion of a subject's love, 
+Tendering the precious safety of my prince. 
+And free from other misbegotten hate, 
+
+Come I appellant to this princely presence. 
+Now, Thomas Mowbray, do | turn to thee, 
+And mark my greeting well; for what I speak 
+My body shall make good upon this earth, 
+Or my divine soul answer it in heaven. 
+
+Thou art a traitor and a miscreant, 
+
+
+437 
+
+
+438 
+
+
+Too good to be so and too bad to live, 40 
+Since the more fair and crystal is the sky, 
+The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly. 
+Once more, the more to aggravate the note, 
+With a foul traitor’s name stuff | thy throat; 
+And wish, so please my sovereign, ere I move, 
+What my tongue speaks my right drawn sword 
+may prove. 
+Mow. Let not my cold words here accuse 
+my zeal: 
+’Tis not the trial of a woman’s war, 
+The bitter clamour of two eager tongues, 
+Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain; 50 
+
+
+The blood is hot that must be cool’d for this: } 
+
+
+Yet can I not of such tame patience boast 
+
+As to be hush’d and no ight at all to say: 
+
+First, the fair reverence of your highness 
+curbs me 
+
+From giving reins and spurs to my free speech; 
+
+Which else would post until it had return’d 
+
+These terms of treason doubled down his 
+throat. 
+
+Setting aside his high blood’s royalty, 
+
+And let him be no kinsman to my liege, 
+
+I do defy him, and I spit at him; 
+
+Call him a slanderous coward and a villain: 
+
+Which to maintain I would allow him odds, 
+
+And meet him, were I tied to run afoot 
+
+Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps, 
+
+Or any other ground inhabitable, 
+
+Where ever Englishman durst set his foot. 
+
+Mean time let this defend my loyalty, 
+
+By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie. 
+
+Boling. Pale trembling coward, there I 
+
+throw my gage, 
+
+Disclaiming here the kindred of the king, 70 
+
+And lay aside my high blood’s royalty, 
+
+
+Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to ex- 
+
+
+cept. 
+If guilty dread have left thee so much strength 
+As to take up mine honour’s pawn, then stoop: 
+By that and all the rites of knighthood else, 
+Will I make good against thee, arm to arm, 
+What I have spoke, or thou canst worse de- 
+vise. 
+Mow. I take it up; and by that sword | 
+swear, 
+Which gently laid my knighthood on my 
+shoulder, : 
+1 "ll answer thee in any fair degree, 80 
+Or chivalrous design of knightly trial: 
+And when I| mount, alive I may not light, 
+If I be traitor or unjustly fight! 
+K. Rich. What doth our cousin lay to 
+Mowbray’s charge? 
+It must be great that can inherit us 
+So much as of a thought of ill in him. 
+Boling. Look, what I speak, my life shall 
+
+
+prove it true; 
+
+
+KING RICHARD il 
+
+
+That Mowbray hath received eight thousand 
+nobles 
+In name of lendings for your highness’ soldiers, 
+The which he hath detained for lewd employ- 
+ments, 90 
+Like a false traitor and injurious villain. 
+Besides I say and will in battle prove, 
+Ox here or elsewhere to the furthest verge 
+That ever was survey’d by English eye, 
+That all the treasons for these eighteen years 
+Complotted and contrived in this land 
+Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and 
+spring. ; 
+Further I say and further will maintain 
+Upon this bad life to make all this good 
+That he did plot the Duke of Gloucester’s 
+death, 
+Suggest his soon-believing adversaries, 101 
+And consequently, like a traitor coward, 
+Sluiced out his innocent soul through streams 
+of blood: 
+Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries, 
+To me for justice and rough chastisement; 
+And, by the glorious worth of my descent, 
+This arm shall do it, or this life be spent. 
+K. Rich. How high a pitch his resolution 
+soars! 
+Thomas of Norfolk, what say’st thou to this? 
+Mow. O, let my sovereign turn away his 
+face 
+And bid his ears a little while be deaf, 
+Till I have told this slander of his blood, 
+How God and good men hate so foul a liar. 
+K. Rich. Mowbray, impartial are our eye’ 
+and ears; . 
+Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir, 
+As he is but my father’s brother’s son, 
+Now, by my sceptre’s awe, I make a vow, 
+Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood 
+Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize 
+The unstooping firmness of my upright soul: 
+He is our subject, Mowbray; so art thou: 
+Free speech and fearless I to thee allow. 
+Mow. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy 
+heart, 
+Through the false passage of thy throat, thou 
+liest. 
+Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais 
+Disbursed I duly to his highness’ soldiers; 
+The other part reserved I by consent, 
+For that my sovereign liege was in my debt 
+Upon remainder of a dear account, 130 
+Since last I went to France to fetch his queen: 
+Now swallow down that lie. For Gloucester’s 
+death, 
+I slew him not; but to my own disgrace 
+Neglected my sworn duty in that case. 
+For you, my noble Lord of Lancaster, 
+The honourable father to my foe, 
+
+
+[Acr I, Se. t 
+
+
+s 
+
+
+‘Act I, Sc. I] 
+
+
+Once did | lay an ambush for your life, 
+A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul; 
+But ere I last received the sacrament 
+I did confess it, and exactly begg’d 
+Your grace’s pardon, and | hope I had it. 
+This is my fault: as for the rest appeal’d, 
+{t issues from the rancour of a villain, 
+A recreant and most degenerate traitor: 
+Which in myself I boldly will defend; 
+And interchangeable hurl down my gage 
+Upon this overweening traitor’s foot, 
+To prove myself a loyal gentleman 
+Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom. 
+In haste whereof, most heartily | pray 150 
+Your highness to assign our trial day. 
+
+K. Rich. Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be 
+
+ruled by me; 
+
+Let’s purge this choler without letting blood: 
+This we prescribe, though no physician; 
+Deep malice makes too deep incision; 
+Forget, forgive; conclude and be agreed; 
+Our doctors say this is no month to bieed. 
+Good uncle, let this end where it begun; 
+We'll calm the Duke of Norfolk, you your 
+
+
+140 
+
+
+/. son. 
+Gaunt. To be a make-peace shall become 
+my age: 160 
+
+
+Throw down, my son, the Duke of Norfolk’s 
+
+
+gage. 
+K. Rich. And, Norfolk, throw down his. 
+Gaunt. When, Harry, when? 
+Obedience bids I should not bid again. 
+K. Rich. Norfolk, throw down, we bid; 
+there is no boot. 
+Mow. Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at 
+thy foot. 
+My life thou shalt command, but uot my 
+shame: 
+The one my duty owes; but my fair name, 
+Despite of death that lives upon my grave, 
+To dark dishonour’s use thou shalt not have. 
+I am disgraced, impeach’d and baffled here, 
+Pierced to the soul with slander’s venom'd 
+spear, 
+The which no balm can cure but his heart- 
+blood 
+Which breathed this poison. / 
+K. Rich. Rage must be withstood: 
+Give me his gage: lions make leopards tame. 
+Mow. Yea, but not change his spots: take 
+but my shame, 
+And I resign my gage. My dear dear lord, 
+The purest treasure mortal times afford 
+Is spotless reputation: that away, 
+en are but gilded loam or painted clay. 
+A jewel in a ten-times-barr'd-up chest 180 
+Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast. 
+Mine honour is my life; both grow in one; 
+Take honour from me, and my life is done: 
+
+
+KING RICHARD II 
+
+
+439 
+
+
+Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me trys 
+In that I live and for that will I die. 
+K. Rich. Cousin, throw up your gage; do 
+you begin. 
+Boling. O, God defend my soul from such 
+deep sin! 
+Shall I seem crest-fall’n in my father’s sight? 
+Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height 
+
+
+Before this out-dared dastard? Ere my 
+tongue 
+
+Shall wound my honour with such feeble 
+wrong, 
+
+
+Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear 
+The slavish motive of recanting fear, 
+And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace, 
+Where shame doth harbour, even in Mowe 
+bray’s face. [Exit Gaunt, 
+K. Rich. We were not born to sue, but ta 
+command; 
+Which since we cannot do to make you friends, 
+Be ready, as your lives shall answer it, 
+At Coventry, upon Saint Lambert's day: 199 
+There shall your swords and lances arbitrate 
+The swelling difference of your settled hate: 
+Since we can not atone you, we shall see 
+Justice design the victor’s chivalry. 
+Lord marshal, command our officers at arms 
+Be ready to direct these home alarms. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. The DUKE oF LancasTER’s palace. 
+
+
+Enter JoHN oF GAUNT with the DucHEss 
+OF GLOUCESTER. 
+
+
+Gaunt. Alas, the part I had in Woodstock's 
+blood 
+Doth more solicit me than your exclaims, 
+Te stir against the butchers of his life! 
+But since correction lieth in those hands 
+Which made the fault that we cannot correct, 
+Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven: 
+Who, when they see the hours ripe on earth, 
+Will rain hot vengeance on offenders’ heads. 
+Duch. Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper 
+spur? 
+Hath love in thy old blood no living fre? 10 
+Edward’s seven sons, whereof thyself art one, 
+Were as seven vials of his sacred blood, 
+Or seven fair branches springing from one 
+root: 
+Some of those seven are dried by nature's 
+course, ; 
+Some of those branches by the Destinies cut; 
+But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Glou- 
+-cester, 
+One vial full of Edward’s sacred blood, 
+One flourishing branch of his most royal root, 
+Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt, 
+Is hack’d-down, and his summer leaves all 
+
+
+faded, 20 
+
+
+440 
+
+
+KING RICHARD II 
+
+
+[Act I, Sc. Ill 
+
+
+By envy’s hand and murder’s bloody axe. 
+Ah, Gaunt, his blood was thine! that bed, that 
+womb, 
+That metal, that self mould, that fashion’d thee 
+Made him a man; and though thou livest and 
+breathest, 
+Yet art thou slain in him: thou dost consent 
+In some large measure to thy father’s death, 
+In that thou seest thy wretched brother die, 
+Who was the model of thy father’s life. 
+Call it not patience, Gaunt; it is despair: 
+In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughter’d, 
+Thou showest the naked pathway to thy life, 
+Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee: 
+That which in mean men we intitle patience 
+Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts. 
+What shall I say? to safeguard thine own life, 
+The best way is to venge my Gloucester’s 
+death. 
+Gaunt. God's is the quarrel; for God's 
+substitute, 
+His deputy anointed in His sight, 
+Hath caused his death: the which if wrong- 
+fully, 
+Let heaven revenge; for I may never lift 40 
+An angry arm against His minister. 
+Duch. Where then, alas, may I complain 
+
+
+myself ? 
+
+Gaunt. To God, the widow's champion and 
+defence. 
+
+Duch. Why, then, I will. Farewell, old 
+Gaunt. 
+
+
+Thou goest to Coventry, there to behold 
+
+Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight: 
+
+O, sit my husband’s wrongs on Hereford’s 
+spear, 
+
+That it may enter butcher Mowbray’s breast! 
+
+Or, if misfortune miss the first career, 
+
+Be Mowbray’s sins so heavy in his bosom, 50 
+
+That they may break his foaming courser’s 
+back, 
+
+And throw the rider headlong in the lists, 
+
+A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford! 
+
+Farewell, old Gaunt: thy sometimes brother's 
+wife 
+
+With her companion grief must end her life. 
+
+Gaunt, Sister, farewell; I must to Cov- 
+
+entry: 
+
+As much good stay with thee as go with me! 
+
+Duch. Yet one word more: grief boundeth 
+
+where it falls, 
+
+Not with the empty hollowness, but weight: 
+
+I take my leave before I have begun, 60 
+
+For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done. 
+
+Commend me to thy brother, Edmund York. 
+
+Lo, this is all:—nay. yet depart not so; 
+
+Though this be all, do not so quickly go; 
+
+] shall remember more. Bid him—ah, what ?— 
+
+With all good speed at Plashy visit me. 
+
+
+Alack, and what shall good old York there see 
+But empty lodgings and unfurnish’d walls, 
+Unpeopled office, untrodden stones? 
+
+And what hear there for welcome but my 
+
+
+groans? 70 
+Therefore commend me; let him not come 
+there, 
+
+
+To seek out sorrow that dwells every where. 
+
+Desolate, desolate, will I hence and die: 
+
+The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. The lists at Coventry. 
+
+
+Enter the Lord Marshal and the DUKE OF 
+AUMERLE. 
+
+
+Mar. My Lord Aumerle, is Harry Here- 
+ford arm'd? 
+Aum. Yea, at all points; and longs to 
+enter in. 
+Mar. The Duke of Norfolk, sprightfully 
+and bold, 
+Stays but the summons of the appellant's 
+trumpet. 
+Aum. Why, then, the champions are pre- 
+pared, and stay 
+For nothing but his majesty’s approach. 
+
+
+The trumpets sound, and the KiNG enters 
+with his nobles, GAUNT, BusHy, Bacot, 
+GREEN, and others. When they are set, 
+enter Mowsray in arms, defendant, with 
+a Herald. 
+
+
+K. Rich. Marshal, demand of yonder cham- 
+pion 
+The cause of his arrival here in arms: 
+Ask him his name and orderly proceed 
+To swear him in the justice of his cause. 10 
+Mar. In God's name and the king’s, say 
+who thou art 
+And why thou comest thus knightly clad in 
+arms, 
+Against what man thou comest, and what thy 
+quarrel: 
+Speak truly, on thy knighthood and thy oath; 
+As so defend thee heaven and thy valour! 
+Mow. My name is Thomas Mowbray, 
+Duke of Norfolk; 
+Who hither come engaged by my oath— 
+Which God defend a knight should violate! — 
+Both to defend my loyalty and truth 
+To God, my king and my succeeding issue, 20 
+Against the Duke of Hereford that appeals 
+me; 
+And, by the grace of God and this mine arm, 
+To prove him, in defending of myself, 
+A traitor to my God. my king, and me: 
+And as | truly fight, defend me heaven! 
+
+
+SS ee a 
+
+
+Act I, Se. II] 
+
+
+KING RICHARD 11 
+
+
+44] 
+
+
+The trumpets sound. Enter BoLiNGBROKE, 
+appellant, in armour, with a Herald. 
+
+
+K. Rich. Marshal, ask yonder knight in 
+arms, : 
+Both who he is and why he cometh hither 
+Thus plated in hrabiisments of war, 
+And formally, according to our law, 
+Depose him in the justice of his cause. 30 
+Mar. What is thy name? and wherefore 
+comest thou hither, 
+Before King Richard in his royal lists? 
+Against whom comest thou? and what's thy 
+
+
+quarrel > 
+
+Speak like a true knight, so defend thee 
+heaven! 
+
+- Boling. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and 
+Derby 
+
+
+Am I; who ready here do stand in arms, 
+To prove, by God's grace and my body's 
+valour, 
+“Tn lists,.on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Nor- 
+folk, 
+That he is a traitor, foul and dangerous, 
+To God in heaven, King Richard and to me; 
+And as I truly fight, defend me heaven! 41 
+Mar. On pain of death, no person be so 
+bold 
+Or daring-hardy as to touch the lists, 
+Except the marshal and such officers 
+Appointed to direct these fair designs. 
+Boling. Lord marshal, let me kiss my sove- 
+reign’s hand, 
+And bow my knee before his majesty: 
+For Mowbray and myself are like two men 
+That vow a long and weary pilgrimage; 
+Then let us take a ceremonious leave 50 
+And loving farewell of our several friends. 
+Mar. The appellant in all duty greets your 
+
+
+highness, 
+And craves to kiss your hand and take his 
+leave. 
+K. Rich. We will descend and fold him in 
+our arms. 
+
+
+Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right, 
+
+So be thy fortune in this royal fight! 
+
+Farewell, my blood; which if to-day thou shed, 
+
+Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead. 
+Boling. O, let no noble eye profane a tear 
+
+For me, if I be gored with Mowbray’s spear: 
+
+As confident as is the falcon’s flight 
+
+Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight. 
+
+My loving lord, I take my leave of you; 
+
+Of yot’, my noble cousin, Lord Aumerle; 
+
+Not sick, although I have to do with death, 
+
+But lusty. young, and cheerly drawing breath. 
+
+Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet 
+
+The daintiest last. to make the end most sweet: 
+
+O thou, the earthly author of my blood, 
+
+
+Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate, 70 
+
+Doth with a twofold vigour lift me up 
+
+To reach at victory above my head, 
+
+Add proof unto mine armour with thy pray- 
+ers; 
+
+And with thy blessings steel!my lance’s point, 
+
+That it may enter Mowbray’s waxen coat, 
+
+And furbish new the name of John a Gaunt, 
+
+Even in the lusty haviour of his son. 
+
+Gaunt. God in thy good cause make thee 
+
+prosperous! 
+
+Be swift like lightning in the execution; 
+
+And let thy blows, doubly redoubled, 
+
+Fall like amazing thunder on the casque 
+
+Of thy adverse perniciovs enemy: 
+
+Soe up thy youthful blood, be valiant and 
+ive. 
+
+
+80 
+
+
+Boling. Mine innocency and Saint George 
+to thrive! 
+
+
+Mow. However God or fortune cast my lot, 
+
+There lives or dies, true to King Richard's 
+throne, 
+
+A loyal, just and upright gentleman: 
+
+Never did captive with a freer heart 
+
+Cast off his chains of bondage and embrace 
+
+His golden uncontroll’d enfranchisement, 
+
+More than my dancing soul doth celebrate 
+
+This feast of battle with mine adversary. 
+
+Most mighty liege, and my companion peers, 
+
+Take from my mouth the wish of happy years: 
+
+As gentle and as jocund as to jest 
+
+Go I to fight: truth hath a quiet breast. 
+
+K. Rich. Farewell, my lord: securely I espy 
+Virtue with valour couched in thine eye. 
+Order the trial, marshal, and begin. 
+
+Mar. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and 
+
+Derby, 100 
+Receive thy lance; and God defend the right! 
+
+Boling. Strong as a tower in hope, I ery: 
+
+amen. 
+
+Mar. Go bear this lance to Thomas, Duke 
+
+of Norfolk. 
+
+
+90 
+
+
+First Her. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster 
+and Derby, 
+Stands here for God, his sovereign and him- * 
+self, 
+
+
+On pain to be found false and recreant, 
+
+To prove the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas 
+Mowbray, 
+
+A traitor to his God, his king and him: 
+
+And dares him to set forward to the fight. 
+
+Sec. Her. Here standeth Thomas Mow- 
+
+bray, Duke of Norfolk, 110 
+
+On pain to be found false and recreant, 
+
+Both to defend himself and to approve 
+
+Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, 
+
+To God, his sovereign and to him disloyal; 
+
+Courageously and with a free desire 
+
+Attending but the signal to begin. 
+
+
+} 
+
+
+442 KING RICHARD ll 
+Mar. Sound, trumpets; and set forward 
+combatants. [A charge sounded. 
+
+
+Stay, the king has thrown his warder down. 
+K. Rich. Let them lay by their helmets and 
+their spears, 
+And both return back to their chairs again: 
+Withdraw with us: and let the trumpets sound 
+While we return these dukes what we decree. 
+[A long flourish. 
+Draw near, 
+And list what with our council we have done. 
+For that our kingdom's earth should not be 
+soil'd 
+With that dear blood which it hath fostered; 
+And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect 
+Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbours’ 
+sword; 
+And for we think the eagle-winged pride 
+Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts, 
+With rival-hat'ng envy, set on you 
+To wake our peace, which in our country’s 
+cradle 
+Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep; 
+Which so roused up with boisterous untuned 
+
+
+drums, 
+With harsh-resounding dreadful 
+bray, 
+And grating shock of wrathful iron arms, 
+Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace 
+And make us wade even in our kindred’s 
+blood; 
+Therefore, we banish you our territories: 
+You, cousin Hereford, upon pain of life 140 
+Till twice five summers have enrich’d our fields 
+Shall not regreet our fair dominions, 
+But tread the stranger paths of banishment. 
+Boling. Your will be done: this must my 
+comfort be, 
+That sun that warms you here shall shine 
+on me; 
+And those his golden beams to you here lent 
+Shall point on me and gild my banishment. 
+K. Rich. Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier 
+doom, 
+Which I with some unwillingness pronounce: 
+Thy sly-slow hours shall not determinate 150 
+The dateless limit of thy dear exile; 
+The hopeless word of ‘never to return’ 
+Breathe I acainst thee, upon pain of life. 
+he A heavy sentence, my most sovereign 
+iege, 
+And all unlook’d for from your highness’ mouth: 
+A dearer merit. not so deep a maim 
+As to be cast forth in the common air, 
+Have I deserved at your highness’ hands. 
+The language I have learn’d these forty years. 
+My native Enclish, now must I forego: 160 
+And now my tongue’s use is to me no more 
+Than an unstringed viol or a harp, 
+
+
+130 
+
+
+trumpets’ 
+
+
+1Acr I, Se. Ill 
+
+
+Or like a cunning instrument cased up, 
+Or, being open, put into his hands 
+That knows no touch to tune the harmony: 
+Within my mouth you have engaol’d my 
+tongue, 
+Doubly portcullis'd with my teeth and lips; 
+And dull unfeeling barren ignorance 
+Is made my gaoler to attend on me. 
+I am too old to fawn upon a nurse, 
+Too far in years to be a pupil now: 
+What is thy sentence then but speechless death, 
+Which robs my tongue from breathing native 
+breath 2 
+K. Rich. It boots thee not to be compas- 
+sionate: 
+After our sentence plaining comes too late. 
+Mow. Then thus I turn me from my coun- 
+try’s light, 
+To dwell in solemn shades of endless night. 
+K. Rich. Return again, and take an oath 
+with thee. 
+Lay on our royal sword your banish’d hands; 
+Swear by the duty that you owe to God— 180 
+Our part therein we banish with yourselves— 
+To keep ine oath that we administer: 
+You never shall, so help you truth and God! 
+Embrace each other’s love in banishment; 
+Nor never look upon each other's face; 
+Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile 
+This louring tempest cf your home-bred hate; 
+Nor never by advised purpose meet 
+To plot, contrive, or complot any ill 
+"Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land 
+Boling. 1 swear. 19) 
+Mow. And 1, to keep all this. 
+Boling. Norfolk, so far as to mine enemy :— 
+By this time, had the king permitted us, 
+One of our souls had wander’d in the air, 
+Banish'd this frail sepulchre of our flesh, 
+As now our flesh is banish’d from this land: 
+Confess thy treasons ere thou fly the realm; 
+Since thou hast far to go, bear not along 
+The clogging burden of a guilty soul. 200 
+Mow. No, Bolingbroke, if ever I were 
+traitor, 
+My name be blotted from the book of life, 
+And I from heaven banish’d as from hence! 
+But what thou art, God, thou, and! do know; 
+And all too soon, I fear, the king shall rue. — 
+Farewell, my liege. Now no way can I stray; 
+Save back to England, all the world’s my way. 
+(Exit. 
+K. Rich. Uncle, even in the glasses of thine 
+eyes 
+T see thy grieved heart: thy sad aspect 
+Hath from the number of his banish’d years 
+Pluck’d four away. [To Boling.] Six frozen 
+winters spent, 
+Return with welcome home from banishment. 
+
+
+170 
+
+
+aa 
+
+
+ia eS Oe ee 
+Af pkey ont oot Fie Y 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+Act I, Se. II] 
+
+
+KING RICHARD II 
+
+
+443 
+
+
+Boling. How long a time lies in one little | To breathe the abundant dolour of the heart. 
+
+
+word! 
+Four lagging winters and four wanton springs 
+End in a word: such is the breath of kings. 
+Gaunt. I thank my liege, that in regard 
+of me 
+He shortens four years of my son's exile: 
+But little vantage shall I reap thereby; 
+For, ere the six years that he hath to spend 
+Can change their moons and bring their times 
+about, 220 
+My oil-dried lamp and time-bewasted light 
+Shall be extinct with age and endless night; 
+My inch of taper will be burnt and done, 
+And blindfold death not let me see my son. 
+K. Rich. Why, uncle, thou hast many years 
+to live. 
+Gauni. But not a minute, king, that thou 
+canst give: 
+Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow, 
+And pluck nights from me, but not lend a 
+morrow; 
+Thou canst help time to furrow me with age, 
+But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage; 230 
+Thy word is current with him for my death, 
+But dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath. 
+K. Rich. Thy son is banish’d upon good 
+advice, 
+Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gave: 
+Why at our justice seem ‘st thou then to lour? 
+Gaunt. Things sweet to taste prove in di- 
+gestion sour. 
+You urged me as a judge; but I had rather 
+You would have bid me argue like a father. 
+O, had it been a stranger, not my child, 
+To smooth his fault I should have been more 
+mild: 240 
+A partial slander sought I to avoid, 
+And in the sentence my own life destroy’d. 
+Alas, I look’'d when some of you should say, 
+1 was too strict to make mine own away; 
+But you can leave to my unwilling tongue 
+Against my will to do myself this wrong. 
+K. Rich. Cousin, farewell; and, uncle, bid 
+him so: 
+Six years we banish him, and he shall go. 
+[Flourish. Exeunt King Richard and train. 
+Aum. Cousin, farewell: what presence must 
+not know, 
+From where you do remain let paper show.250 
+Mar. My lord, no leave take I, for I will 
+
+
+ride, 
+As far as land will let me, by your side. 
+Gaunt. O, to what purpose dost thou hoard 
+thy words, 
+That thou return’st no greeting to thy friends? 
+Boling. I have too few to take my leave of 
+you, 
+
+
+When the tongue’s office should be prodigal 
+
+
+Gaunt. Thy grief is but thy absence for a 
+
+
+time, 
+
+Boling. Joy absent, grief is present for that 
+time. 
+
+Gaunt. What is six winters? they are quick- 
+ly gone. 260 
+
+Boling. Tomen in joy; but grief makes one 
+hour ten. 
+
+Gaunt. Call it a travel that thou takest for 
+pleasure. 
+
+Boling. My heart will sigh when I miscall 
+it so, 
+
+
+Which finds it an inforced *pilgrimagy. 
+Gaunt. The sullen passage of thy weary 
+steps 
+Esteem as foil wherein thou art to set 
+The precious jewel of thy home return. 
+Boling. Nay, rather, every tedious stride 
+I make 
+Will but remember me what a deal of world 
+I wander from the jewels that I love. 270 
+Must I not serve a long apprenticehood 
+To foreign passages, and in the end, 
+Having my freedom, boast of nothing else 
+But that I was a journeyman to grief ? 
+Gaunt. All places that the eye of heaven 
+visits 
+Are to a wise man ports and happy havens. 
+Teach thy necessity to reason thus; 
+There is no virtue like necessity. 
+Think not the king did banish thee, 
+But thou the king. Woe doth the heavier 
+sit, 
+Where it perceives it is but faintly borne. 281 
+Go, say I sent thee forth to purchase honour 
+And not the king exiled thee; or suppose 
+Devouring pestilence hangs in our air 
+And thou art flying to a fresher clime: 
+Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it 
+To lie that way thou go’st, not whence thou 
+comest: 
+Suppose the singing birds musicians, 
+The grass whereon thou tread’st the presence 
+strew'd, 
+The flowers fair ladies, and thy steps no more 
+Than a delightful measure or a dance; 291 
+For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite 
+The man that mocks at it and sets it light. 
+Boling. O, who can hold a fire in his hand 
+By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? 
+Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite 
+By bare imagination of a feast? 
+Or wallow naked in December snow 
+By thinking on fantastic summer's heat? 
+O, no! the apprehension of the good 
+Gives but the greater feeling to the worse: 
+Fell sorrow’s tooth doth never rankle more 
+
+
+300 
+
+
+Than when it bites, but lanceth not the sore. 
+
+
+444 
+
+
+KING RICHARD II 
+
+
+~ [Act II, Se. I 
+
+
+Gauni. Come, come, my son, I "Il bring thee | And he our subjects’ next degree in hope. 
+
+
+on thy way: 
+Had I thy youth and cause, I would not stay. 
+Boling. Then, England's ground, farewell; 
+sweet soil, adieu; 
+My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet! 
+Where’er | wander, boast of this I can, 
+Though banish'd, yet a trueborn Englishman. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. The court. 
+
+
+Enter the Kinc, with Bacot and GREEN at 
+one door; and the DUKE oF AUMERLE 
+at another, 
+
+
+K. Rich. We did observe. Cousin Aumerle, 
+How farbroughtyouhigh Herefordon his way ? 
+Aum. I brought high Hereford, if you call 
+him so, : 
+But to the next highway, and there I left him. 
+K. Rich. And say, what store of parting 
+tears were shed? 
+Aum. Faith, none for me; except the north- 
+east wind, 
+Which then blew bitterly against our faces, 
+Awnaked the sleeping rheum, and so by chance 
+Did grace our hollow parting with a tear. 
+K. Rich. What said our cousin when you 
+parted with him? 10 
+Aum. ‘Farewell: 
+And, for my heart disdained that my tongue 
+Should so profane the word, that taught me 
+craft 
+To counterfeit oppression of such grief 
+That words seem'd buried in my sorrow’s grave. 
+Marry, would the word ‘farewell’ have length- 
+en'd hours 
+And added years to his short banishment, 
+He should have had a volume of farewells; 
+But since it would not, he had none of me. 
+K. Rich. He is our cousin, cousin; but ‘tis 
+doubt, 20 
+When time shall call him home from banish- 
+ment, 
+Whether our kinsman come to see his friends. 
+Ourself and Bushy, Bagot here and Green 
+Observed his courtship to the common people; 
+How he did seem to dive into their hearts 
+With humble and familiar courtesy, 
+What reverence he did throw away on slaves, 
+Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles 
+And patient underbearing of his fortune, 
+As ‘twere to banish their affects with him. 30 
+Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench; 
+A brace of draymen bid God speed him well 
+And had the tribute of his supple knee, 
+With “Thanks, my countrymen, my loving 
+friends; 
+As were our England in reversion his, 
+
+
+Green. Well, he is gone; and with him go 
+these thoughts. 
+Now for the rebels which stand out in Ireland, 
+Expedient ‘manage must be made, my liege, 
+Ere further leisure yield them further means 40 
+For their advantage and your highness’ loss. 
+K. Rich. We will ourself in person to this 
+war: 
+And, for our coffers, with too great a court 
+And liberal largess, are grown somewhat light, 
+We are inforced to farm our royal realm; 
+The revenue whereof shall furnish us 
+For our affairs in hand: if that come short, 
+Our substitutes at home shall have blank 
+
+
+charters; 
+
+Whereto, when they shall know what men are 
+rich, 
+
+They shall subscribe them for large sums of 
+gold 50 
+
+
+And send them after to supply our wants; 
+For we will make for Ireland presently. 
+
+
+Enter Busny. 
+
+
+Bushy, what news? 
+Bushy. Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, 
+my lord, 
+Suddenly taken; and hath sent post haste 
+To entreat your majesty to visit him. 
+K. Rich. Where lies he? 
+Bushy. At Ely House. 
+K. Rich. Now put it, God, in the physi- 
+cian’s raind 
+To help him to his grave immediately! 60 
+The lining of his coffers shall make coats 
+To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars. 
+Come, gentlemen, let's all go visit him: 
+Rh God we may make haste, and come. too 
+ate! 
+All. Amen. 
+
+
+ACT II. 
+
+
+Scene I. Ely House. 
+
+
+Enter JoHN oF Gaunt sick, with the DUKE 
+OF YorRK, &c. 
+
+
+Gaunt. Will the king come, that I may 
+breathe my last 
+In wholesome counsel to his unstaid youth? 
+York. Vex not yourself, nor strive not with 
+your breath; 
+For all in vain comes counsel to his ear. 
+Gaunt. Oz, but they say the tongues of dying 
+men 
+Enforce attention like deep harmony: 
+Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent 
+in vain, 
+For they breathe truth that breathe their words 
+in pain. 
+
+
+Act Il, Sc. 1] 
+
+
+He that no more must say is listen’'d more 
+
+Than they whom youth and ease have prey 
+
+to glose; 10 
+More are men’s ends mark’d than their lives 
+before: 
+The setting sun, and music at the close, 
+As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, 
+Writ in remembrance more than things long 
+past: 
+
+Though Richard my life's counsel would not 
+hear, 
+
+My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear 
+
+York. No; it is stopp’d with other flattering 
+sounds, 
+
+As praises, of whose taste the wise are fond, 
+
+Lascivious metres, to whose venom sound 
+
+The open ear of youth doth always listen; 20 
+
+Report of fashions in proud Italy, 
+
+Whose manners still our tardy apish nation 
+
+Limps after in base imitation. 
+
+Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity— 
+
+“So it be new, there’s no respect how vile— 
+
+That is not quickly buzz‘d into his ears? 
+
+Then all too late comes counsel to be heard, 
+
+Where will doth mutiny with wit’s regard. 
+
+Direct not him whose way himself will choose: 
+
+"Tis breath thou lack’st, and that breath wilt 
+thou lose. 30 
+
+Gaunt. Methinks I am a prophet new in- 
+
+spired 
+
+And thus expiring do foretell of him: 
+
+His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last, 
+
+For violent fires soon burn out themselves; 
+
+Small showers last long, but sudden storms are 
+short; 
+
+He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes; 
+
+With eager feeding food doth choke the 
+feeder: 
+
+Light vanity, insatiate cormorant, 
+
+Consuming means, soon preys upon itself, 
+
+This royal throne of kings, this scepter’d isle, 
+
+This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, 41 
+
+This other Eden, demi-paradise, 
+
+This fortress built by Nature for herself 
+
+Against infection and the hand of war, 
+
+This happy breed of men, this little world, 
+
+This precious stone set in the silver sea, 
+
+Which serves it in the office of a wall 
+
+Or as a moat defensive to a house, 
+
+Against the envy of less happier lands, 
+
+This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this 
+England, 50 
+
+This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, 
+
+Fear'd by their breed and famous by their 
+birth, 
+
+Renowned for their deeds as far from home, 
+
+For Christian service and true chivalry, 
+
+As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry 
+
+Of the world’s ransom, blessed Mary's Son, 
+
+
+KING RICHARD II 
+
+
+445 
+
+
+This AN of such dear souls, this dear dear 
+and, 
+
+Dear for her reputation through the world, 
+
+Is now leased out, I die pronouncing it, 
+
+Like to a tenement or pelting farm: 
+
+England, bound in with the triumphant sea, 
+
+Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege 
+
+Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with 
+shame, 
+
+With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds: 
+
+That England, that was wont to conquer others, 
+
+Hath made a shameful conquest of itself. 
+
+Ah, would the scandal vanish with my life, 
+
+How happy then were my ensuing death! 
+
+
+Enter Kine RicHarp and QuEEN, AUMERLE, 
+Busny, Green, Bacot, Ross, and WiL- 
+
+
+LOUGHBY. 
+York. The king is come: deal mildly with 
+his youth; 
+For young hot colts being raged do rage the 
+more, 70 
+Queen. How fares our noble uncle, Lan- 
+
+
+caster ? 
+K. Rich. What comfort, 
+with aged Gaunt? 
+Gaunt. O, how that name befits my compo- 
+sition! 
+Old Gaunt indeed, and gaunt in being old: 
+Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast; 
+And who abstains from meat that is not 
+gaunt? 
+For sleeping England long time have | watch’d; 
+Watching breeds leanness, leanness is all gaunt: 
+The pleasure that some fathers feed upon, 79 
+Is my strict fast; I mean, my children’s looks; 
+And therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt: 
+Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave, 
+Whose hollow womb inherits naught but bones. 
+K. Rich. Can sick men play so nicely with 
+their names? 
+Gaunt. No, misery makes sport to mock 
+itself : 
+Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me, 
+I mock my name, great king, to flatter thee. 
+K. Rich. Should dying men flatter with 
+those that live? 
+Gaunt. No, no, men living flatter those 
+that die. 
+K. Rich. Thou, now a-dying, say’st thou 
+flatterest me. 
+
+
+man? how is’t 
+
+
+Gaunt. O, no! thou diest, though I the 
+sicker be. 
+
+K. Rich. I am in health, I breathe, and see 
+thee ill. 
+
+Gaunt. Now He that made me knows | see 
+thee ill; 
+
+
+Ill in myself to see, and in thee seeing #Il. 
+
+
+Thy death-bed is no lesser than thy land 
+
+
+446 
+
+
+KING’ RICHARD II 
+
+
+[Acr I], Se. I 
+
+
+Wherein thou liest in reputation sick; 
+And thou, too careless patient as thou art, 
+Commit'st thy anointed body to the cure 
+Of those physicians that first wounded thee: 
+A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown, 100 
+Whose compass is no bigger than thy head; 
+And yet, incaged in so small a verge, 
+The waste is no whit lesser than thy land. 
+O, had thy grandsire with a prophet’s eye 
+Seen how his son’s son should destroy his 
+sons, 
+From forth thy reach he would have laid thy 
+shame, 
+Deposing thee before thou wert possess'd, 
+Which art possess’d now to depose thyself. 
+Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world, 
+It were a shame to let this land by lease; 110 
+But for thy world enjoying but this land, 
+Is it not more than shame to shame it so? 
+Landlord of England art thou now, not king: 
+Thy state of law is bondslave to the law; 
+And thou— 
+K. Rich. A lunatic lean-witted fool, 
+Presuming on an ague’s privilege, 
+Darest with thy frozen admonition 
+Make pale our cheek, chasing the royal blood 
+With fury from his native residence. 
+Now, by my seat’s right royal majesty, 120 
+Wert thou not brother to great Edward's son, 
+This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head 
+Should run thy head from thy unreverent 
+shoulders. 
+Gaunt. O, spare me not, my brother Ed- 
+ward's son, 
+For that I was his father Edward's son; 
+That blood already, like the pelican, 
+Hast thou tapp’d out and drunkenly caroused: 
+My brotherGloucester, plain well-meaning soul, 
+Whom fair befal in heaven ’mongst happy 
+souls! 
+May be a precedent and witness good 130 
+That thou respect’st not spilling Edward's 
+blood: 
+Join with the present sickness that I have; 
+And thy unkindness be like crooked age, 
+To crop at once a too wither'd flower. 
+Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee! 
+These words hereafter my tormentors be! 
+Convey me to my bed, then to my grave: 
+Love they to live that love and honour have. 
+[Exit, borne off by his Attendants. 
+K. Rich. And let them die that age and 
+sullens have; 
+For both hast thou, and both become the grave. 
+York. I do beseech your majesty, impute 
+his words 14 
+To wayward sickliness and age in him: 
+He loves you. on my life, and holds you dear 
+
+
+As Harry Duke of Hereford, were he here. 
+
+
+| So much for that. 
+
+
+K. Rich. Right, you say true: as Hereford’s 
+love, so his; 
+As theirs, so mine; and all be as it is. 
+
+
+Enter NoRTHUMBERLAND., 
+
+
+North. My liege, old Gaunt commends him 
+
+to your majesty. 
+
+K. Rich. What says he? 
+
+North. Nay, nothing; all is said: 
+His tongue is now a stringless instrument; 
+Words, life and all, old Lancaster hath spent. 
+
+York. Be York the next that must be bank- 
+
+rupt so! 151 
+
+Though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe. 
+
+K. Rich. The ripest fruit first falls, and so 
+
+doth he: 
+
+His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be. 
+
+Now for our Irish wars: 
+
+We must supplant those rough rug-headed 
+kerns, 
+
+Who live like venom where no venom else 
+
+But only they have privilege to live. 
+
+And for these great affairs do ask some charge, 
+
+Towards our assistance we do sieze to us 160 
+
+The plate, coin, revenues and moveables, 
+
+Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possess’d. 
+
+York. How long shall I be patient? ah, how 
+
+long 
+
+Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong? 
+
+Not Gloucester’s death, nor Hereford’s banish- 
+ment, 
+
+Not Gaunt’s rebukes, nor England's private 
+wrongs, 
+
+Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke 
+
+About his marNage, not my own disgrace, 
+
+Have ever made me sour my patient cheek, 
+
+Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign’s face, 
+
+I am the last of noble Edward's sons, 
+
+Of whom my father, Prince of Wales, was first: 
+
+In war was never lion raged more fierce, 
+
+In peace was never gentle lamb more mild, 
+
+Than was that young and princely gentleman. 
+
+His face thou hast, for even so look’d he, 
+
+Accomplish’d with the number of thy hours; 
+
+But when he frown'd, it was against the French 
+
+And not against his friends; his noble hand 
+
+Did win what he did spend and spent not that 
+
+Which his triumphant father’s hand had won; 
+
+His hands were guilty of no kindred blood, 
+
+But bloody with the enemies of his kin. 
+
+O Richard! York is too far gone with grief, 
+
+Or else he never would compare between. 
+
+K. Rich. Why, uncle, what's the matter? 
+
+York. O my liege, 
+Pardon me, if you please; if not, I. pleased 
+Not to be pardon'd, am content withal. 
+
+Seek you to seize and gripe into your hands 
+The royalties and rights of banish’d Here- 
+ford? t90 
+
+
+arte a Pie? 
+
+
+Act Il, Sc. 1] 
+
+
+Is not Gaunt dead, and doth not Hereford live? 
+
+Was not Gaunt just, and is not Harry true? 
+
+Did not the one deserve to have an heir >? 
+
+Is not his heir a well-deserving son ? 
+
+Take Hereford’s rights away, and take from 
+Time 
+
+His charters and his customary rights; 
+
+Let not to-morrow then ensue to-day; 
+
+Be not thyself; for how art thou a king 
+
+But by fair sequence and succession ? 
+
+
+Now, afore Ged—God forbid I say true!— . 
+
+
+If you do wrongfully seize Hereford’s rights, 
+Call in the letters patent that he hath 
+By his attorney-general to sue 
+His livery, and deny his offer’'d homage, 
+You pluck a thousand dangers on your head, 
+You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts 
+_ And prick my tender patience to those thoughts 
+Which honour and allegiance cannot think. 
+K. Rich. Think what you will, we seize 
+into our hands 
+His plate, his goods, his money and his lands. 
+York. I'll not be by the while: my liege, 
+farewell: 211 
+What will ensue hereof, there’s none can tell; 
+But by bad courses may be understood 
+That their events can never fall out good. 
+[Exit. 
+K. Rich. Go, Bushy, to the Earl of Wilt- 
+shire straight: 
+Bid him repair to us to Ely House 
+To see this business. “To-morrow next 
+We will for Ireland; and ‘tis time, | trow: 
+And we create, in absence of ourself, 
+Our uncle York.lord governor of England; 220 
+For he is just and always loved us well. 
+Come on, our queen: to-morrow must we part; 
+Be merry, for our time of stay is short. 
+[Flourish. Exeunt King, Queen, Aumerle, 
+Bushy, Green, and Bagot. 
+_ North. Well, lords, the Duke of Lancaster 
+is dead. 
+Ross. And living too; for now his son is 
+duke. 
+Willo, Barely in title, not in revenues. 
+North. Richly in bee if justice had her 
+; right. 
+Ross. My heart is reek but it must Rieak 
+with silence, 
+Ere’t be disburden’d with a liberal tongue. 
+North.. Nay, speak thy mind; and let him 
+ne'er speak more 230 
+That speaks thy words again to do thee harm! 
+,» Willo. Tends that thou wouldst speak to 
+» the Duke of Hereford? 
+If it be so, out with it boldly, man; 
+
+
+Quick is mine ear to hear of good towards him. | 
+
+
+Ross. No.good. at all that I can do for him; 
+Unless you.call it good to pity, him, 
+
+
+KING RICHARD II 
+
+
+44] 
+
+
+Bereft and gelded of his patrimony. 
+North. Now, afore God, ‘tis shame such 
+wrongs are borne 
+In him, a royal prince, and many moe 
+Of noble blood in this declining land. 
+The king is not himself, but basely led 
+
+
+240 
+
+
+| By flatterers; and what they will inform, 
+
+
+Merely in hate, ’gainst any of us all, 
+That will the king severely prosecute 
+
+
+"Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our 
+
+
+heirs. 
+Ross. The commons hath he pill’d with 
+grievous taxes, 
++And quite lost their hearts: the nobles hath 
+he fined 
+For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts. 
+Willo. And daily new exactions are devised, 
+As blanks, benevolences, and | wot not what: 
+But what, o’ God’s name, doth become of this? 
+North. Wars have not wasted it, for warr’d 
+he hath not, 
+But basely yielded upon compromise 
+That which his noble ancestors achieved with 
+blows: 
+More hath he spent in peace than they in wars. 
+
+
+Ross. The Earl of Wiltshire hath the realm 
+in farm. 
+Willo. The king’s grown bankrupt, like a 
+
+
+broken man. 
+North. Reproach and dissolution hangeth 
+over him. 
+Ross. He hath not money for these Irish 
+wars, 
+His burthenous taxations notwithstanding, 260 
+But by the robbing of the banish’d duke. 
+North. His noble kinsman; most degenerate 
+king! 
+But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing, 
+Yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm; 
+We see the wind sit sore upon our sails, 
+And yet we strike not, but securely perish. 
+Ross. We see the very wreck that we must 
+suffer; 
+And unavoided is the danger now, 
+For suffering so the causes of our wreck. 
+North. Not so; even through the hollow 
+eyes of death 270 
+I spy life peering; but I dare not say 
+How near the tidings of our comfort is. 
+Willo. Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as 
+thou dost ours. 
+tamale confident to speak, Northumber- 
+land: 
+We three are but thyself; and, speaking so, 
+Thy witie are but as thoughts; therefore, be 
+old. 
+North. Then thus: I have from Port le 
+Blanc, a bay 
+
+
+In Brittany, received intelligence 
+
+
+448 
+
+
+That Harry Duke of Hereford, Rainold Lord 
+Cobham, 
+
+Foie oS, -C5h) SAS meee MARTY, Bon er Z0) 
+
+That late broke from the Duke of Exeter, 
+
+Sir Thomas, Archbishop late of Canterbury, 
+
+Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir John Ramston, 
+
+Sir John Norbery, Sir Robert Waterton and 
+Francis Quoint, 
+
+All these well furnish’d by the Duke of Bre- 
+tagne 
+
+With eight tall ships, three thousand men of 
+war, 
+
+Are making hither with all due expedience 
+
+And shortly mean to touch our northern shore: 
+
+Perhaps they had ere this, but that they stay 
+
+The first departing of the king for Ireland. 290 
+
+If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke, 
+
+Imp out our drooping country’s broken wing, 
+
+Redeem from broking pawn the blemish’d 
+crown, 
+
+Wipe off the dust that hides our sceptre’s gilt 
+
+And make high majesty look like itself, 
+
+Away with me in post to Ravenspurgh; 
+
+But if you faint, as fearing to do so, 
+
+Stay and be secret, and myself will go. 
+
+Ross. To horse, to horse! urge doubts to 
+them that fear. 
+Willo. Hold out my horse, and I will first 
+
+be there. [Exeunt. 300 
+
+
+Scene II. Windsor Castile. 
+Enter QueEN, BusHy and Bacot. 
+Bushy. Madam, your majesty is too much 
+sad: 
+You promised, when you parted with the king, 
+To lay aside life-harming heaviness. - 
+And entertain a cheerful disposition. 
+Queen. To please the king I did; to please 
+myself 
+I cannot do it; yet I know no cause 
+Why I should welcome such a guest as grief, 
+Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest 
+As my sweet Richard: yet again, methinks, 
+Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune’s womb, 
+Is coming towards me, and my inward soul 11 
+With nothing trembles: at some thing it 
+grieves, 
+More than with parting from my lord the king. 
+Bushy. Each substance of a grief hath 
+twenty shadows, 
+Which shows like grief itself, but is not so; 
+For sorrow’s eye, glazed with blinding tears, 
+Divides one thing entire to many objects; 
+Like p2rspectives, which rightly gazed upon 
+Show nothing but confusion, eyed awry 
+Distinguish form: so your sweet majesty, 
+Looking awry upon your lord’s departure, 
+Find shapes of grief, more than himself, to 
+wail; 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+KING RICHARD II 
+
+
+[Acr II, Se, Il 
+
+
+Which, look’d on as it is, is nought but shadows 
+Of what itis not. Then, thrice-gracious queen, 
+More than your lord’s departure weep not: 
+more’s not seen; 
+Or if it be, "tis with false sorrow’s eye, 
+Which for things true weeps things imaginary. 
+Queen. It may be so; but yet my inward 
+soul 
+Persuades me it is otherwise: howe’er it be, 
+I cannot but be sad; so heavy sad 
+As, though on thinking on no thought I think, 
+Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink. 
+Bushy. ‘Tis nothing but conceit, my gra- 
+cious lady. 
+Queen. "Tis nothing less: conceit is still 
+derived 
+From some forefather grief; mine is not so, 
+For nothing hath begot my something grief; 
+Or something hath the nothing that I grieve: 
+Tis in reversion that I do possess; 
+But what it is, that is not yet known; what 
+I cannot name; ‘tis nameless woe, I wot. 40 
+
+
+Enter GREEN. 
+
+
+Green. God save your majesty! and well 
+met, gentlemen: ; 
+I hope the king is not yet shipp’d for Ireland. 
+Queen. Why hopest thou so? ‘tis better hope 
+he is; 
+For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope: 
+Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not 
+shipp’d > 
+Green. That he, our hope, might have re- 
+tired his power, 
+And driven into, despair an enemy's hope, 
+Who strongly hath set footing in this land: 
+The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals’ himself, 
+And with uplifted arms is safe arrived 
+At Ravenspurgh. 
+Queen. Now God in heaven forbid! 
+Green. Ah, madam, ‘tis too true: and that 
+is worse, 
+The Lord Northumberland, his son young 
+Henry Percy, 
+The Lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willough- 
+
+
+50 
+
+
+by, 
+With all their powerful friends, are fled to him. 
+Bushy. Why have you not proclaim’d 
+Northumberland 
+And all the rest revolted faction’ traitors ? 
+Green. We have: whereupon the Earl of 
+Worcester 
+Hath broke his staff, resign’'d his stewardship, 
+And all the household servants fled with him 
+To Bolingbroke. él 
+Queen. So, Green, thou art the midwife to 
+my woe, 
+And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir; 
+Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy, 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+wy 
+
+
+Act II, Se. II] 
+
+
+KING RICHARD II 
+
+
+449 
+
+
+And I, a gasping new-deliver’d mother, 
+Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow join'd. 
+Bushy. Despair not, madam. 
+Queen. Who shall hinder me? 
+I will despair, and be at enmity 
+With cozening hope: he is a flatterer, 
+A parasite, a keeper back of death, 70 
+Who gently would dissolve the bands of life, 
+Which false hope lingers in extremity. 
+
+
+Enter York. 
+
+
+Green. Here comes the Duke of York. 
+Queen. With signs of war about his aged 
+neck: 
+O, full of careful business are his looks! 
+Uncle, for God's sake, speak comfortable words. 
+York. Should I do so, I should belie my 
+thoughts: 
+Comfort ’s in heaven; and we are on the earth, 
+Where nothing lives but crosses, cares and 
+/ grief. 
+Your husband, he is gone to save far off. 80 
+Whilst others come to make him lose at home: 
+Here am | left to underprop his land, 
+Who, weak with age, cannot support myself: 
+Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made; 
+Now shall he try his friends that flatter’d him. 
+
+
+Enter a Servant. 
+
+
+Ser, My lord, your son was gone before 
+came. 
+York. Hewas? Why, so! go all which way 
+it willl! 
+The nobles they are fled, the commons they 
+are cold, 
+And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford’s side. 
+Sirrah, get thee to Plashy, to my sister Glou- 
+cester; 90 
+Bid her send me presently a thousand pound: 
+Hold, take my ring. 
+Ser. My lord, I had forgot to tell your 
+lordship, 
+To-day, as I came by, I called there; 
+But I shall grieve you to report the rest. 
+York. What is‘t, knave? 
+Serv. An hour before I came, the duchess 
+died. . 
+York. God for his mercy! what a tide of 
+woes 
+Comes rushing on this woeful land at once! 
+I-know not what to do: I would to God, 100 
+So my untruth had not provoked him to it, 
+The king had cut off my head with my brother's. 
+What, are there no posts dispatch'd for Ire- 
+land? 
+How shall we do for money for these wars? 
+Come, sister,—cousin, I would say,—pray, par- 
+don me. 
+Go, fellow, get thee home, provide some carts 
+
+
+And bring away the armour that is there, 
+[Exit Servant. 
+Gentlemen, will you go muster men? 
+If I know how or which way to order these 
+affairs 
+Thus thrust disorderly into my hands, 110 
+Never believe me. [oth are my kinsmen: 
+The one is my sovereign, whom both my oath 
+And duty bids defend; the other again 
+Is my kinsman, whom the king hath wrong’d, 
+Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right, 
+Well, somewhat we must do. Come, cousin, 
+I'll 
+Dispose of. you. 
+Gentlemen, go, muster up your men, 
+And meet me presently at Berkeley. 
+I should to Plashy too; 
+But time will not permit: all is uneven, 
+And every thing is left at six and seven. 
+[Exeunt York and Queen. 
+Bushy. The wind sits fair for news to go 
+to Ireland, 
+But none returns, For us to levy power 
+Proportionable to the enemy 
+Is all unpossible. 
+Green. Besides, our nearness to the king in 
+love 
+Is near the hate of those love not the king, 
+Bagot, And that's the wavering commons: 
+for their love 129 
+Lies in their purses, and whoso empties them 
+By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate. 
+Bushy. Wherein the king stands generally 
+condemn’‘d. 
+Bagot. If judgement lie in them, then so do 
+we, 
+Because we ever have been near the king. 
+Green. Well, I will for refuge straight to 
+Bristol castle: 
+The Earl of Wiltshire is already there. 
+Bushy. Thither will I with you; for little 
+office 
+The hateful commons will perform for us, 
+Except like curs to tear us all to pieces. 
+Will you go along with us? 
+Bagot. No; I will to Ireland to his majesty. 
+Farewell: if heart's presages be not vain, 
+We three here part that ne’er shall meet again. 
+Bushy. That's as York thrives to beat back. 
+Bolingbroke. 
+Green. Alas, poor duke! the task he under- 
+takes 
+Is numbering sands and drinking oceans dry: 
+Where one on his side fights, thousands will fly. 
+Farewell at once, for once, for all, and 
+ever. 
+Bushy. Well, we may meet again. 
+Bagot. I fear me, never, 
+
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+450 
+
+
+Wilds in 
+
+
+Enter BOLINGBROKE and NoRTHUMBERLAND, 
+with Forces. 
+
+
+Scene III, Gloucestershire. 
+
+
+Boling. How far is it, my lord, to Berkeley 
+now >? 
+North. Believe me, noble lord, 
+I am a stranger here in Gloucestershire: 
+These high wild hills and rough uneven ways 
+Draws out our miles, and makes them weari- 
+some; 
+And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar, 
+Making the hard way sweet and delectable. 
+But I bethink me what a weary way 
+From Ravenspurgh to Cotswold will be found 
+In Ross and Willoughby, wanting your oni 
+I 
+
+
+pany, 
+Which, I protest, hath very much beguiled 
+The tediousness and process of my travel: 
+But theirs is sweetened with the hope to have 
+The present benefit which I possess; 
+And hope to joy is little less in joy 
+‘Than hope enjoy'd: by this the weary lords 
+Shall make their way seem short, as mine hath 
+done 
+By sight of what I have, your noble company. 
+
+Boling. Of much less value is my company 
+
+Than your good words. But who comes here? 
+Enter Henry Percy. 
+
+North. It is my son, young Harry Percy, 21 
+Sent from my brother Worcester, whencesoever. 
+Harry, how fares your uncle? 
+
+Percy. I had thought, my lord, to have 
+
+learn’d his health of you. 
+
+North. Why, is he not with the queen? 
+
+Percy. No, my good lord; he hath forsook 
+
+the court, 
+Broken his staff of office and dispersed 
+The household of the king. 
+
+North. What was his reason ? 
+He was not so resolved when last we spake 
+
+together. 
+
+Percy. Because your lordship was pro- 
+
+claimed traitor. 
+But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurgh, 
+To. offer service to the Duke of Hereford, 
+And sent me over by Berkeley, to discover 
+What power the Duke of York had levied 
+there; 
+Then with directions to repair to Ravenspurgh. 
+
+North. Have you forgot the Duke of Here- 
+
+ford, boy? 
+
+Percy. No, my good lord, for that is not 
+
+forgot 
+Which ne'er I did remember: to my know- 
+ledge, 
+[ never in my life did look on him. 
+North. Then learn to know him now; 
+
+
+this 
+is the duke. 40 
+
+
+KING RICHARD II 
+
+
+tad 
+[Act II, Sc. II 
+
+
+Percy. My gracious lord, I tender you my 
+service, 
+Such as it is, being tender, raw and young; 
+Which elder days shall ripen and confirm 
+To more approved service and desert. 
+Boling. I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be 
+sure 
+I count myself in nothing else so happy 
+As in a soul remembering my good friends; 
+And, as my fortune ripens with thy love, 
+It shall be still thy true love’s recompense: 
+My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus 
+seals it. 0 
+North. How far is it to Berkeley ? and what 
+stir 
+Keeps good old York there with his men of 
+war? 
+Percy. ‘There stands the castle, by yon tuft 
+of trees, 
+Mann'd with three hundred men, as I have 
+heard; 
+And in it are the Lords of York, Berkeley, 
+and Seymour; 
+None else of name and noble estimate. 
+
+
+Enter Ross and WiLLoucHBY. 
+
+
+North. Here come the Lords of Ross and 
+Willoughby, 
+Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste. 
+Boling. Welcome, my lords. I wot your 
+love pursues 
+A banish'd traitor: all my treasury 60 
+Is yet but unfelt thanks, which more enrich’d 
+Shall be your love and labour’s recompense. 
+Ross. Your presence makes us rich, most 
+
+
+noble lord. 
+
+
+Willo. And far surmounts our labour to — 
+
+
+attain it. 
+Boling. Evermore thanks, the exchequer of 
+
+the poor; 
+Which, till my infant fortune comes to years, 
+Stands for my bounty. But who comes here? 
+
+
+Enter BERKELEY. 
+
+
+North. Itis my Lord of Berkeley, as I guess. 
+Berk. My Lord of Hereford, my message 
+
+
+is to you. 
+Boling. My lord, my answer is—to Lan- 
+caster; 70 
+
+
+And IJ am come to seek that name in England; 
+And I must find that title in your tongue, 
+Before I make reply to aught you say. 
+
+Berk. Mistake me not, my lord; ‘tis not 
+
+my meaning 
+
+To raze one title of your honour out: 
+To you, my lord, I come, what Jord you will, 
+From the most gracious regent of this land, 
+The Duke of York, to know what pricks you on 
+To take advantage of the absent time 
+
+
+KING RICHARD II 
+
+
+451 
+
+
+And fright our native peace with self-born | I am denied to sue my livery here, 
+
+
+arms. 
+Enter York attended. 
+
+
+Boling. 1 shall not need transport my words 
+by you; 
+Here comes his grace in person. 
+My noble uncle! [Kneels. 
+York. Show me thy humble heart, and not 
+thy knee, 
+Whose duty is deceiveable and false. 
+Boling. My gracious uncle— 
+York. Tut, tut! 
+Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle: 
+I am no traitor’s uncle; and that word ‘grace’ 
+In an ungracious mouth is but profane. 
+Why have those banish’d and forbidden legs 90 
+Daredonce to touch adust of England's ground ? 
+But then more ‘why >’ why have they dared: to 
+march 
+So many miles upon her peaceful bosom, 
+~ Frighting her pale-faced villages with war 
+And ostentation of despised arms? 
+Comest thou because the anointed king is hence? 
+Why, foolish boy, the king is left behind, 
+And in my loyal bosom lies his power. 
+Were I but now the lord of such hot youth 
+As when brave Gaunt, thy father, and myself 
+Rescued the Black Prince, that young Mars of 
+men, 101 
+From forth the ranks of many thousand French, 
+O, then how quickly should this arm of mine, 
+Now prisoner to the palsy, chastise thee 
+And minister correction to thy fault! 
+Boling. My gracious uncle, let me know 
+my fault: 
+On what condition stands it and wherein? 
+York. Even in condition of the worst degree. 
+In gross rebellion and detested treason: 
+Thou art a banish’d man, and here art come 
+Before the expiration of thy time, 
+In braving arms against thy sovereign. 
+Boling. As 1 was banish'’d, I was banish’d 
+Hereford; 
+But as I come, I come for Lancaster. 
+And, noble uncle, I beseech your grace 
+Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye: 
+You are my father, for methinks in you 
+I see old Gaunt alive; O, then, my father, 
+Will you permit that I shall stand condemn’d 
+A wandering vagabond; my rights and royalties 
+Pluck’d from my arms perforce and given away 
+To upstart unthrifts? Wherefore was I born? 
+If that my cousin king be King of England, 
+It must be granted I am Duke of Lancaster. 
+You have a son, Aumerle, my noble cousin; 
+Had you first died, and he been thus trod down, 
+He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father, 
+To rouse his wrongs and chase them to the bay. 
+
+
+And yet my letters-patents give me leave: 130 
+My father’s goods are all distrain’d and sold, 
+And these and all are all am‘ss employ’d. 
+What would you have me do? I am a subject, 
+And I challenge law: attorneys are denied me; 
+And therefore personally I lay claim 
+
+To my inheritance of free descent. 
+
+North. The noble duke hath been too much 
+
+abused. 
+
+Ross. It stands your grace upon to do him 
+
+right. CY 
+
+Willo. Base men by his endowments are 
+
+made great. 
+
+York. My lords of England, let me tell 
+
+you this: 140 
+I have had feeling of my cousin’s wrongs 
+And labour’d all I could to do him right; 
+But in this kind to come, in braving arms, 
+Be his own carver and cut out his way, 
+To find out right with wrong, it may not be; 
+And you that to abet him in this kind 
+Cherish rebellion and are rebels all. 
+North. The noble duke hath sworn his 
+coming is 
+But for his own; and for the right of that 
+We all have strongly sworn to give him aid: 150 
+And let him ne'er see joy that breaks that oath! 
+York. Well, well, I see the issue of these 
+arms: 
+I cannot mend it, | must needs confess, 
+Because my power is weak and all ill left: 
+But if I could, by Him that gave me life, 
+I would attach you all and make you stoop 
+Unto the sovereign mercy of the king; 
+But since I cannot, be it known to you 
+I do remain as neuter. So, fare you well; 
+Unless you please to enter in the castle 160 
+And there repose you for this night. 
+
+Boling. An offer, uncle, that we will accept: 
+But we must win your grace to go with us 
+To Bristol castle, which they say is held 
+By Bushy, Gagot and their complices, 
+
+The caterpillars of the commonwealth, 
+Which I have sworn to weed and pluck away. 
+York. It may be I will go with you: but 
+yet I'll pause; 
+For I am loath to break our country’s laws. 
+Nor friends nor foes, to me welcome you are? 
+Things past redress are now with me past care. 
+[Exeunt. 
+Scene IV. A camp in Wales. 
+Enter SatisBurY and a Welsh Captain. 
+Cap. My Lord of Salisbury, we have stay’d 
+ten days, 
+And hardly kept our countrymen together, 
+And yet we hear no tidings from the king; 
+Therefore we will disperse ourselves: farewell. 
+
+
+452 
+
+
+KING RICHARD II 
+
+
+[Acr III, Sc, II 
+
+
+Sai. Stay yet another day, thou trusty 
+Welshman: 
+The king reposeth all his confidence in thee. 
+Cap. “Tis thought the king is dead; we will 
+not stay. 
+The bay-trees in our country are all wither'd 
+And meteors fright the’ fixed stars of heaven; 
+The pale-faced moon looks bloody on the earth 
+And _ lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful 
+change; i 
+Rich men look sad and ruffians dance and leap, 
+The one in fear to lose what they enjoy, 
+The other to enjoy by rage and war: 
+These signs forerun the death or fall of kings. 
+Farewell: our countrymen are gone and fled, 
+As well assured Richard their king is dead. 
+[Exit. 
+Sal. Ah, Richard, with the eyes of heavy 
+mind 
+I see thy glory like a shooting star 
+Fall to the base earth from the firmament. 20 
+Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west, 
+Witnessing storms to come, woe and unrest: 
+Thy friends are fled to wait upon thy foes, 
+And crossly to thy good all fortune goes. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+ACT III. 
+
+
+Scene I. Bristol. Before ihe castle. 
+
+
+Enter BoLincBRoKE, YorK, NorTHUMBER- 
+LAND, Ross, Percy, Wittoucusy, with 
+Busny and GREEN, prisoners. 
+
+
+Boling. Bring forth these men. 
+Bushy and Green, I will not vex your souls— 
+Since presently your souls must part your 
+bodies— 
+With too much urging your pernicious lives, 
+For ‘twere no charity; yet, to wash your blood 
+From off my hands, here in the view of men 
+I will unfold some causes of your deaths, 
+You have misled a prince, a royal king, 
+A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments, 
+By you unhappied and disfigured clean: 10 
+You have in manner with your sinful hours 
+Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him, 
+Broke the possession of a royal bed 
+And stain'd the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks 
+With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul 
+wrongs. 
+Myself, a prince by fortune of my birth, 
+Near to the king in blood, and near in love 
+Till you did make him misinterpret me, 
+Have stoop’d my neck under your injuries, 
+And sigh'd my English breath in foreign clouds, 
+Eating the bitter bread of banishment; 21 
+Whilst you have fed upon my signories, 
+Dispark'd my parks and fell'd my forest woods 
+From my own windows torn my household 
+coat, 
+
+
+Razed out my imprese, leaving me no sign, 
+Save men’s opinions and my living blood, 
+
+To show the world I am a gentleman. 
+
+This and much more, much more than twice 
+
+
+all this, 
+Condemns you to the death. See them de- 
+liver'd over 
+To execution and the hand of death. 30 
+Bushy. More welcome is the stroke of death 
+to me 
+
+
+Than Bolingbroke to England. Lords, farewell. 
+Green. My comfort is that heaven will take 
+our souls 
+And plague injustice with the pains of hell. 
+Boling. My Lord Northumberland, see them 
+dispatch’d. 
+[Exeunt Northumberland and others, 
+with the prisoners. 
+Uncle, you say the queen is at your house; 
+For God's sake, fairly let her be entreated: 
+Tell her I send to her my kind commends; 
+Take special care my greetings be deliver'd. 
+York. A gentleman of mine I have dis- 
+patch'd 40 
+With letters of your love to her at large. 
+Boling. Thanks, gentle uncle. Come, lords, 
+away, 
+To fight with Glendower and his complices: 
+Awhile to-work, and after holiday. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. The coast of Wales. A castle 
+
+
+in view, 
+
+
+Drums: flourish and colours. Enter Kinc 
+RicHarp and BisHop oF CARLISLE, Au- 
+MERLE, and Saldiers. 
+
+
+K, Rich, Barkloughly castle call they this 
+at hand? 
+Aum. Yea, my lord. How brooks your 
+grace the air? 
+After your late tossing on the breaking seas? 
+K. Rich. Needs must I like it well: I weep 
+for joy 
+To stand upon my kingdom once again. 
+Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand, 
+Though rebels wound thee with their horses’ 
+hoofs: 
+As a long-parted mother with her child 
+Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in 
+meeting, 
+So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth, 10 
+And do thee favours with my royal hands. 
+Feed not thy sovereign’s foe, my gentle earth, 
+Nor with thy sweets comfort his ravenous sense; 
+But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom, 
+And heavy-gaited toads lie in their way, 
+Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet 
+Which with ursuping steps do trample thee: 
+Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies; 
+And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower 
+
+
+Act II, Se. I] 
+
+
+KING RICHARD II 
+
+
+453 
+
+
+Guard it, | pray thee, with a lurking adder 20 
+Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch 
+Throw death upon thy sovereign’s enemies. 
+Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords: 
+This earth shall have a feeling and these stones 
+Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king 
+Shall falter under foul rebellion’s arms. 
+Car. Fear not, my lord: that Power that 
+made you king 
+Hath power to keep you king in spite of all. 
+The means that heaven yields must be em- 
+braced, f 
+And not neglected; else, if heaven would, 30 
+And we will not, heaven's offer we refuse, 
+The proffer’d means of succour and redress. 
+Aum. He means, my lord, that we are too 
+remiss; 
+Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security, 
+Grows strong and great in substance and in 
+power. 
+K. Rich. Discomfortable cousin! 
+thou not 
+That when the searching eye of heaven is hid, 
+Behind the globe, that lights the lower world, 
+Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen 
+In murders and in outrage, boldly here; 40 
+But when from under this terrestrial ball 
+He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines 
+
+
+know’st 
+
+
+And darts his light through every guilty hole, | 
+
+
+Then murders, treasons and detested sins, 
+
+The cloak of night being pluck’d from off their 
+backs, 
+
+Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves ? 
+
+So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke, 
+
+Who all this while hath revell’d in the night 
+
+Whilst we were wandering with the antipodes, 
+
+Shall see us rising in our throne, the east, 50 
+
+His treasons will sit blushing in his face, 
+
+Not able to endure the sight of day, 
+
+But self-affrighed tremble at his sin. 
+
+Not all the water in the rough rude sea 
+
+Can wash the balm off from an anointed king; 
+
+The breath of worldly men cannot depose 
+
+The deputy elected by the Lord: 
+
+For every man that Bolingbroke hath press’d 
+
+To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown, 
+
+God for his Richard hath in heavenly pay .60 
+
+A glorious angel: then, if the angels fight, 
+
+Weak men must fall, for heaven still guards 
+the right. 
+
+
+Enter SALISBURY. 
+
+
+Welcome, my lord: how far off lies your 
+power ? 
+Sal. Nor near nor farther off, my gracious 
+lord, 
+Than this weak arm: discomfort guides my 
+tongue 
+And bids me speak of nothing but despair. 
+
+
+One day too late, I fear me, noble lord, 
+Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth: 
+O, call back yesterday, bid time return, 
+And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting 
+men! 70 
+To-day, to-day, unhappy day, too late, 
+O’erthrows thy joys, friends, fortune and thy 
+state: 
+For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead, 
+Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispersed and fled. 
+Aum. Comfort, my liege: why looks your 
+grace so pale? ? 
+K, Rich. But now the blood of twenty thou- 
+sand men 
+Did triumph in my face, and they are fled; 
+And, till so much blood thither come again, 
+Have I not reason to look pale and dead? 
+All souls that will be safe fly from my side, 
+For time hath set a b!ot upon my pride. 
+Aum. Comfort, my liege: remember who 
+you are. 
+K. Rich. 1 had forgot myself: am I not 
+king > 
+Awake, thou coward majesty! thou sleepest. 
+Is not the king’s name twenty thousand names? 
+Arm, arm, my name! a puny subject strikes 
+At thy great glory. Look not to the ground, 
+Ye favourites of a king: are we not high? 
+High be our thoughts: I know my uncle York 
+Hath power enough to serve our turn, But 
+who comes here? 90 
+
+
+Enter Scroop. 
+
+
+Scroop. More health and happiness betide 
+my liege 
+Than can my care-tuned tongue deliver him! 
+K. Rich. Mine ear is open and my heart 
+prepared: 
+The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold. 
+Say, is my kingdom lost? why, ‘twas my care; 
+And what loss is it to be rid of care? 
+Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we? 
+Greater he shall not be; if he serve God, 
+We'll serve Him too and be his fellow so: 
+Revolt our subjects? that we cannot mend; 100 
+They break their faith to God as well as us: 
+Cry woe, destruction, ruin and decay; 
+The worst is death, and death will have his day. 
+Scroop. Glad am | that your highness is so 
+arm'd 
+To bear the tidings of calamity. 
+Like an unseasonable stormy day, 
+Which makes the silver rivers drown their 
+shores, 
+As if the world were all dissolved to tears, 
+So hich above his limits swells the rage 
+Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land 
+With hard bright steel and hearts harder than 
+
+
+steel. 
+
+
+454 
+
+
+KING RICHARD II 
+
+
+SP ea ee 
+
+
+[Acr III, Sc. Il 
+
+
+White-beards have arm'd their thin and hair- 
+less scalps 
+Against thy majesty; boys, with women’s 
+voices, 
+Strive to speak big and clap their female joints 
+In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown: 
+Thy very beadsmen learn to bend their bows 
+Of double-fatal yew against thy state; 
+Yea, distaff women manage rusty bills 
+Against thy seat: both young and old rebel, 
+And all goes worse than I have power to tell. 
+K. Rich. Too well, too well thou tell’st a 
+tale so ill. 
+Where is the Earl of Wiltshire? where is 
+Bagot? 
+What is become of Bushy? where is Green? 
+That they have let the dangerous enemy 
+Measure our confines with such peaceful steps? 
+If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it: 
+I warrant they have made peace with Boling- 
+broke. 
+Scroop. Peace have they made with him 
+indeed, my lord. 
+K. Rich. O villains, vipers, damn’d without 
+redemption! 
+Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man! 130 
+Snakes, in my heart-blood warm’d, that sting 
+my heart! 
+Three Judases, each one thrice worse than 
+Judas! 
+Would they make peace? terrible hell make 
+war 
+Upon their spotted souls for this offence! 
+Scroop. Sweet love, I see, changing his 
+property, 
+Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate: 
+Again uncurse their souls; their peace is made 
+With heads, and not with hands: those whom 
+you curse 
+Have felt the worst of death's destroying wound 
+And lie full low, graved in the hollow ground. 
+Aum. Is Bushy, Green, and the Earl of 
+Wiltshire dead? 14] 
+Scroop. Ay, all of them at Bristol lost their 
+heads. 
+Aum. Where is the duke my father with 
+his power? 
+K. Rich. No matter where; of comfort no 
+man speak: 
+Let's talk of graves, of worms and epitaphs; 
+Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes 
+Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth, 
+Let's choose executors and talk of wills: 
+And yet not so, for what can we bequeéath 
+Save our deposed bodies to the ground? 150 
+Our lands. our lives and all are Bolingbroke’s, 
+And nothing can we call our own but death 
+And that small model of the barren earth 
+Which serves as paste and cover to our hones. 
+
+
+For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground 
+And tell sad stories of the death of kings: 
+How some have been deposed; some slain in 
+war; 
+Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed; 
+nome pono by their wives; some sleeping 
+ill’d; 
+All murder'd: for within the hollow crown 160 
+That rounds the mortal temples of a king 
+Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits, 
+Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp, 
+Allowing him a breath, a little scene, 
+To monarchize, be fear’d and kill with looks, 
+Infusing him with self and vain conceit, 
+As if this flesh which walls about our life 
+Were brass impregnable, and humour'd thus 
+Comes at the last and with a little pin 169 
+Bores through his castle wall, and farewell 
+king! 
+Cover your heads and mock not flesh and blood 
+With solemn reverence: throw away respect, 
+Tradition, form and ceremonious duty, 
+For you have but mistook me all this while: 
++I live with bread like you, feel want, 
+Taste grief, need friends: subjected thus, 
+How can you say to me, I am a king? 
+Car. My lord, wise men ne'er sit and wail 
+their woes, 
+But presently prevent the ways to wail, 
+To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength, 
+Gives in your weakness strength unto your 
+oe, 18] 
+And so your follies fight against yourself. 
+Fear, and be slain; no worse can come to fight: 
+And fight and die is death destroying death; 
+Where fearing dying pays death servile breath. 
+Aum. My father hath a power; inquire of 
+him, 
+And learn to make a body of a limb. 
+K. Rich. Vhou chidest me well: proud 
+Bolingbroke, I come 
+To change blows with thee for our day of doom. 
+This ague-fit of fear is over-blown; 190 
+An easy task it is to win our own. 
+Say, Scroop, where lies our uncle with his 
+power ? 
+Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be sour. 
+Scroop. Men judge by the complexion of 
+the sky 
+The state and inclination of the day: 
+So may you by my dull and heavy eye, 
+My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say. 
+| play the torturer, by small and small Nei 
+To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken: 
+Your uncle York is joined with Bolingbroke, 
+And all your northern castles yielded up, 
+And all your southern gentlemen in arms 
+Upon his party. 
+
+
+K. Rich. Thou hast said enough. 
+
+
+A 
+
+
+as) 
+
+
+Act Ul, Se. HI] 
+
+
+Beshrew this, cousin, which didst lead me forth 
+[To Aumerle. 
+
+Of that sweet way I was in to despair! 
+
+What say you now? what comfort have we 
+
+now ? 
+
+By heaven, I'll hate him everlastingly 
+
+That bids me be of comfort any more. 
+
+Go to Flint castle: there I "ll pine away; 
+
+A king, woe’s slave, shall kingly woe obey. 210 
+
+That power I have, discharge; and let them go 
+
+
+To ear the land that hath some hope to grow, . 
+
+
+For I have none: let no man speak again 
+To alter this, for counsel is but vain. 
+Aum. My liege, one word. 
+K. Rich. He does me double wrong 
+That wounds me with the flatteries of his 
+tongue. 
+_ Discharge my followers: let them hence away, 
+From Richard's night to Bolingbroke’s fair 
+day. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+~ Scene II. Wales. Before Flint Castle. 
+
+
+Enter, with drum and colours, BOLINGBROKE, 
+York, NorTHUMBERLAND, Attendants, and 
+forces, , 
+
+
+Boling. So that by this intelligence we learn 
+The Welshmen are dispersed, and Salisbury 
+Is gone to meet the king, who lately landed 
+With some few private friends upon this coast. 
+
+North. The news is very fair and good, 
+
+my lord: 
+Richard not far from hence hath hid his head. 
+
+York. It would beseem the Lord Northum- 
+
+berland 
+To say ‘King Richard:’ alack the heavy day 
+When such a sacred king should hide his head. 
+North. Your grace mistakes; only to be 
+
+
+brief, 10 
+Left I his title out. 
+York. The time hath been, 
+
+
+Would you have been so brief with him, he 
+would 
+Have been so br'ef with you, to shorten you, 
+For taking so the head, your whole head's 
+length, 
+Boling. Mistake not, uncle, further than 
+you should, 
+
+
+York. Take not, good cousin, further than 
+
+
+you should, 
+Lest you mistake the heavens are o'er our heads. 
+Boling. 1 knew it, uncle, and oppose not 
+myself 
+Against their will. But who comes here? 
+hs 
+
+
+Enter Percy. 
+Welcome, Harry: what, will not this castle 
+yield? 2 
+Percy. The castle is royally mann’d, my 
+lord, 
+
+
+KING RICHARD II 
+
+
+Against thy entrance. 
+Boling. Royally! 
+
+Why, it contains no king? 
+Percy. Yes, my good lord, - 
+
+It doth contain a king; King Richard lies 
+
+Within the limits of yon lime and stone: 
+
+And with him are the Lord Aumerle, Lord 
+
+Salisbury, 
+Sir Stephen Scroop, besides a clergyman 
+Of holy reverence; who, I cannot learn. 
+
+
+North. O, belike it is the Bishop of 
+Carlisle. 
+Boiing. Noble lords, 31 
+
+
+Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle; 
+
+Through brazen trumpet send the breath of 
+parley 
+
+Into his ruin’d ears, and thus deliver: 
+
+Henry Bolingbroke 
+
+On both his knees doth kiss King Richard's 
+hand 
+
+And sends allegiance and true faith of heart 
+
+To his most royal person, hither come 
+
+Even at his feet to lay my arms and power, 
+
+Provided that my banishment repeal’d 40 
+
+And lands restored again be freely granted: 
+
+If not, I'll use the advantage of my power 
+
+And lay the summer's dust with showers of 
+blood 
+
+Rain'd from the wounds of slaughter’d Eng- 
+lishmen: 
+
+The which, how far off from the mind of 
+Bolingbroke 
+
+It is, such crimson tempest should bedrench 
+
+The oe green lap of fair King Richard's 
+and, 
+
+My stooping duty tenderly shall show. 
+
+Go, signify as much, while here we march 
+
+Upon the grassy carpet of this plain. 50 
+
+Let's march without the noise of threatening 
+drum, 
+
+That from this castle’s tatter'd battlements 
+
+Our fair appointments may be well perused. 
+
+Methinks King Richard and myself should 
+meet 
+
+With no less terror than the elements 
+
+Of fire and water, when their slumbering shock 
+
+At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven. 
+
+Be he the fire, I'll be the yielding water: 
+
+The rage be his, whilst on earth I rain 
+
+My waters; on the earth, and not on him. 60 
+
+March on, and mark King Richard how he 
+
+
+looks. 
+
+
+Parle without, and answer within. Then a 
+flourish. Enter on the walls, Kinc Ricu- 
+ARD, the BisHop oF CaRLisLE, AUMERLE, 
+Scroop, and SALIsBuRY. 
+
+
+See, see, King Richard doth himself appear, 
+As doth the blushing discontented sun 
+
+
+456 
+
+
+KING RICHARD II 
+
+
+[Acr III, Sc. Ih 
+
+
+From out the fiery portal of the east, 
+When he perceives the envious clouds are bent 
+To dim his glory and to stain the track 
+Of his bright passage to the occident. 
+York. Yet looks he like a king: behold, 
+his eye, 
+As bright as is the eagle's, lightens forth 
+Controlling majesty: alack, alack, for woe 70 
+That any harm should stain so fair a show! 
+K. Rich. We are amazed; and thus long 
+have we stood 
+To watch the fearful bending of thy knee, 
+[To North. 
+Because we thought ourself thy lawful king: 
+And if we be, how dare thy joints forget 
+To pay their awful duty to our presence? 
+If we be not, show us the hand of God 
+That hath dismiss’d us from our stewardship; 
+For well we know, no hand of blood and bone 
+Can gripe the sacred handle of our sceptre 80 
+Unless he do profane, steal, or usurp. 
+And though you think that all, as you have 
+done, 
+Have torn their souls by turning them from us, 
+And we are barren and bereft of friends; 
+Yet know, my master, God omnipotent, 
+Is mustering in his clouds on our behalf 
+Armies of pestilence; and they shall strike 
+Your children yet unborn and unbegot, 
+That lift your vassal hands against my head 
+And threat the glory of my precious crown. 90 
+Tell Bolingbroke—for yond methinks he 
+stands— 
+‘That every stride he makes upon my land 
+Is dangerous treason: he is come to open 
+‘The purple testament of bleeding war; 
+But ere the crown he looks for live in peace, 
+Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers’ sons 
+Shall ill become the flower of England's face, 
+Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace 
+To scarlet indignation and bedew 
+Her pastures’ grass with faithful English blood 
+North. The king of heaven forbid our lord 
+the king 101] 
+‘Should so with civil and uncivil arms 
+Be rush’d upon! Thy thrice noble cousin 
+Harry Bolingbroke doth humbly kiss thy hand; 
+And by the honourable tomb he swears, 
+That stands upon your royal grandsire’s bones, 
+And by the royalties of both your bloods, 
+‘Currents that spring from one most gracious 
+head, 
+And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt, 
+And by the worth and honour of himself, 110 
+Comprising all that may be sworn or said, 
+His coming hither hath no further scope 
+Than for his lineal royalties and to beg 
+Enfranchisement immediate on his knees: 
+Which on thy royal party granted once, 
+
+
+His glittering arms he will commend to rust, 
+His barbed steeds to stables, and his heart 
+To faithful service of your majesty. 
+This swears he, as a prince, is just; 
+And, as I am a gentleman, I credit him. 120 
+K. Rich. Northumberland, say thus the 
+king returns: 
+His noble cousin is right welcome hither; 
+And all the number of his fair demands 
+Shall be accomplished without contradiction: 
+With all the gracious utteranee thou hast 
+Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends. 
+We do debase ourselves, cousin, do we not, 
+[To Aumerle. 
+To look so poorly and to speak so fair? 
+Shall we call back Northumberland, and send 
+Defance to the traitor, and so die? 130 
+Aum. No, good my lord; let’s fight with 
+gentle words 
+Till time lend friends and friends their help- 
+ful swords. 
+K. Rich. O God, O God! that e’er this 
+tongue of mine, 
+That laid the sentence of dread banishment 
+On yon proud man, should take it off again 
+With words of sooth! O that I were as great 
+As in my grief, or lesser than my name! 
+Or that I could forget what I have been, 
+Or not remember what I must be now! 
+Swell’st thou, proud heart? I'll give thee scope 
+to beat, 140 
+Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me. 
+Aum. Northumberland comes back from 
+Bolingbroke. 
+K. Rich. What must the king do now? 
+must he submit? 
+The king shall do it: must he be deposed ? 
+The king shall be contented: must he lose 
+The name of king? o’ God's name, let it go: 
+I ‘ll give my jewels for a set of beads, 
+My gorgeous palace for a hermitage, 
+My gay apparel for an almsman’s gown, 
+My figured goblets for a dish of wood, 
+My sceptre for a palmer’s walking-staff, 
+My subjects for a pair of carved saints 
+And my Jarge kingdom for a little grave, 
+A little little grave, an obscure grave; 
+Or I'll be buried in the king’s highway, 
+mar? way of common trade, where subjects’ 
+eet 
+May hourly trample on their sovereign’s head; 
+For on my heart they tread now whilst I live; 
+And buried once, why not upon my head? 
+Aumerle, thou weep’st, my tender-hearted 
+cousin! 160 
+We'll make foul weather with despised tears; 
+Our sighs and they shall lodge the summer 
+corn, 
+And make a dearth in this revolting land. 
+
+
+150 
+
+
+Act III, Sc. IV] 
+
+
+KING RICHARD II 
+
+
+457 
+
+
+Or shall we play the wantons with our woes, 
+And make some pretty match with shedding 
+tears > 
+As thus, to drop them still upon one place, 
+Till they have fretted us a pair of graves 
+Within the earth; and, therein laid,—there lies 
+Two kinsmen digg’d their graves with weeping 
+eyes. 
+Would not this ill do well? Well, well, I see 
+I talk but idly, and you laugh at me. 171 
+Most mighty prince, my Lord Northumberland, 
+What says King Bolingbroke ? will his majesty 
+Give Richard leave to live till Richard die? 
+You make a leg, and Bolingbroke says ay, 
+North, My lord, in the base court he doth 
+attend 
+To speak with you; may it please you to 
+come down. 
+K. Rich. Down, down I come, like glister- 
+ing Phaethon, 
+_ Wanting the manage of unruly jades. 
+In the base court? Base court, where kings 
+grow base, 180 
+To come at traitors’ calls and do them grace. 
+In the base court? Come down? Down, 
+court! down, king! 
+For night-owls shriek where mounting larks 
+should sing. [Exeunt from above. 
+Boling. What says his majesty ? 
+North, Sorrow and grief of heart 
+Makes him speak fondly, like a frantic man: 
+Yet he is come, 
+
+
+Enter Kine Ricuarp and his attendants 
+below. 
+
+
+Boling. Stand all apart, 
+And show fair duty to his majesty. 
+[He kneels down. 
+My gracious lord,— 
+K. Rich. Fair cousin, you debase your 
+princely knee 190 
+To make the base earth proud with kissing it: 
+Me rather had my heart might feel your love 
+Than my unpleased eye see your courtesy. 
+Pp, cousin, up; your heart is up, | know, 
+Thus high at least, although your knee be low, 
+Boling. My gracious lord, 1 come but for 
+mine own. 
+K. Rich. Your own is yours, and I am 
+yours, and all. 
+' ling: So far be mine, my most redoubted 
+ord, 
+As my ,true service shall deserve your love. 
+K. Rich. Well you deserve: they well de- 
+serve to have, 200 
+That know the strong’st and surest way to get. 
+Uncle, give me your hands: nay, dry your eyes; 
+Tears show their love, but want their remedies. 
+Cousin, I am too young to be your father, 
+
+
+Though you are old enough to be my heir. 
+What you will have, I ’ll give, and willing too; 
+For do we must what force will have us do. 
+Set on towards London, cousin, is it so? 
+Boling. Yea, my good lord. 
+K. Rich. Then I must not say no. 
+[Flourish. Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Langley. The DuKE oF York's 
+Garden. 
+
+
+Enter the QUEEN and two LapiEs. 
+
+
+Queen. What sport shall we devise here in 
+this garden, 
+
+To drive away the heavy thought of care? 
+Lady. Madam, we'll play at bowls. 
+Queen. "Twill make me think the world is 
+
+full of rubs, 
+
+And that my fortune runs against the bias. 
+Lady. Madam, we'll dance. 
+
+Queen. My legs can keep no measure in 
+delight, 
+
+When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief : 
+
+Therefore, no dancing, girl: some other sport. 
+
+
+Lady. Madam, we'll tell tales, 10 
+Queen. Of sorrow or of joy? 
+Lady. Of either, madam. 
+
+
+Queen. Of neither, girl: 
+For if of joy, being altogether wanting, 
+It doth remember me the more of sorrow; 
+Or if of grief, being altogether had, 
+It adds more sorrow to my want of joy: 
+
+
+| For what I have I need not to repeat; 
+
+
+And what I want it boots not to complain. 
+Lady. Madam, I'll sing. 
+Queen. "Tis well that thou hast cause; 
+But thou shouldst please me better, wouldst 
+
+
+thou weep. 20 
+Lady. I could. weep, madam, would it do 
+you good, 
+
+
+Queen. And I could sing, would weeping 
+do me good, 
+And never borrow any tear of thee. 
+
+
+Enter a Gardener, and two Servants. 
+
+
+But stay, here come the gardeners: 
+
+Let's step into the shadow of these trees. 
+
+My wretchedness unto a row of pins, 
+
+They ‘Il talk of state; for every one doth so 
+
+Against a change; woe is forerun w th woe. 
+
+[Queen and Ladies retire. 
+Gard. Go, bind thou up yon dangling 
+apricocks, 
+
+Which, like unruly children, make their sire 30 
+
+Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight: 
+
+Give some supportance to the bending twigs. 
+
+Go thou, and like an executioner, 
+
+Cut off the heads of too fast growing sprays, 
+
+That look too lofty in our commonwealth: 
+
+
+All must be even in our government. 
+s 
+
+
+458 
+
+
+KING RICHARD II 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Se. I 
+
+
+ot 
+
+
+You thus employ’d, I will go root away 
+The noisome weeds, which without profit suck 
+The soil’s fertility from wholesome flowers. 
+Serv. Why should we in the compass of a 
+pale 40 
+Keep law and form and due proportion, 
+Showing, as in a model, our firm estate, 
+When our sea-walled garden, the whole land, 
+Is full of weeds, her fairest flowers choked up, 
+Her fruit-trees all unpruned, her hedges ruin’d, 
+Her knots disorder’d and her wholesome herbs 
+Swarming with caterpillars? 
+
+Gard. Hold thy peace: 
+He that hath suffer’d this disorderly spring 
+Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf: 
+The weeds which his broad-spreading leaves 
+
+did shelter, 5 
+That seem’d in eating him to hold him up, 
+Are pluck’d up root and all by Bolingbroke, 
+I mean the Earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green. 
+
+Serv. What, are they dead? 
+
+Gard. They are; and Bolingbroke 
+Hath seized the wasteful king. O, what pity 
+
+Is it 
+That he had not so trimm’d and dress’d his 
+
+land 
+As we this garden! We at time of year 
+Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit-trees, 
+Lest, being over-proud in sap and blood, 
+‘With too much riches it confound itself: 60 
+Had he done so to great and growing men, 
+They might have lived to bear and he to taste 
+Their fruits of duty: superfluous branches 
+We lop away, that bearing boughs may live: 
+Had he done so, himself had borne the crown, 
+Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown 
+down, 
+
+Serv. What, think you then the king shall 
+
+be deposed? 
+
+Gard. Depress'd he's already, and deposed 
+Tis doubt he will be: letters came last night 
+To a dear friend of the good Duke of York's 70 
+‘That tell black tidings. 
+
+Queen. O, I am press’d to death through 
+
+want of speaking! [Coming forward. 
+Thou, old Adam’s likeness, set to dress this 
+
+garden, 
+How dares thy harsh rude tongue sound this 
+unpleasing news? 
+What Eve, what serpent, hath suggested thee 
+To make a second fall of cursed man? 
+Why dost thou say King Richard is deposed ? 
+Darest thou, thou little better thing than earth, 
+Divine his downfall? Say, where, when, and 
+how, 
+Camest thou by this ill tidings? speak, thon 
+
+wretch. 80 
+
+Gard. Pardon me, madam: little joy have I 
+To breathe this news: vet what I say is true. 
+
+
+King Richard, he is in the mighty hold 
+Of Bolingbroke: their 
+weigh'd: 
+In your lord’s scale is nothing but himself, 
+And some few vanities that make him light; 
+But in the balance of great Bolingbroke, 
+Besides himself, are all the English peers, 
+And with that odds he weighs King Richard 
+down. 
+Post you to London, and you will find it so; 90 
+I speak no more than every one doth know. 
+Queen. Nimble mischance, thou art so light 
+of foot, 
+Doth not thy embassage belong to me, 
+And am I last that knows it? O, thou think’st 
+To serve me last, that I may longest keep 
+Thy sorrow in my breast. Come, ladies, go 
+To meet at London London's king in woe, 
+What, was I born to this, that my sad look 
+Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke ? 
+Gardener, for telling me these news of woe 100 
+Pray God the plants thou graft’st may never 
+grow. [Exeunt Queen and Ladies. 
+Gard. Poor queen! so that thy state might 
+be no worse, 
+I would my skill were subject to thy curse, 
+Here did she fall a tear; here in this place 
+I ‘ll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace: 
+Rue, even for ruth, here shortly shall be seen, 
+In the remembrance of a weeping queen. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT IV. 
+
+
+SCENE i. Westminster Hall. 
+
+
+Enter, as to the Parliament, BoLiNGBROKE, 
+AUMERLE, NoRTHUMBERLAND, PERcy, 
+FirzwaTer, Surrey, the BisHop oF CaR- 
+LISLE, the ABBOT OF WESTMINSTER, and 
+another Lord, Herald, Officers, and Bacor. 
+Boling. Call forth Bagot. 
+
+Now, Bagot, freely speak thy mind: 
+
+What thou dost know of noble Gloucester’s 
+
+death, 
+
+Who wrought it with the king, and who 
+
+perform'd 
+
+The bloody office of his timeless end. 
+
+Bagot. Then set before my face the Lord 
+Aumerle. 
+
+Boling. Cousin, stand forth, and look upon 
+that man. 
+
+Bagot. My Lord Aumerle, I know your 
+daring tongue 
+
+Scorns to unsay what once it hath deliver'd. 
+
+In that dead time when Gloucester’s death 
+
+was plotted, 10 
+
+I heard you say, ‘Is not my arm of length 
+
+That reaches from the restful English court 
+
+As far as Calais, to mine uncle’s head >’ 
+
+
+fortunes both are 
+
+
+een 
+
+
+_ Act IV, Se. I] 
+
+
+Amongst much other talk, that very time, 
+
+I heard you say that you had rather refuse 
+The offer of an hundred thousand crowns 
+
+- Than Bolingbroke’s return to England; 
+Adding withal, how blest this land would be 
+In this your cousin’s death, 
+
+Aum. Princes and noble lords, 
+What answer shall I make to this base man? 20 
+Shall I so much dishonour my fair stars, 
+
+On equal terms to give him chastisement? 
+Either I must, or have mine honour soil’d 
+With the attainder of his slanderous lips. 
+There is my gage, the manual seal of death, 
+That marks thee out for hell: I say, thou liest, 
+And will maintain what thou hast said is false 
+In thy heart-blood, though being all too base 
+To stain the temper of my knightly sword. 
+
+Boling. Bagot, forbear: thou shalt not take 
+
+it up. 
+
+Aum. Excepting one, I would he were the 
+
+best 
+In all this presence that hath moved me so. 
+
+Fitz. If that thy valour stand on sympathy, 
+There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine: 
+By that fair sun which shows me where thou 
+
+stand’si, 
+I heard thee say, and vauntingly thou spakest it, 
+That thou wert cause of noble Gloucester’s 
+death. 
+lf thou deny’st it twenty times, thou liest; 
+And I will turn thy falsehood to thy hentt; 
+Where it was forged, with my rapier’s point. 40 
+
+Aum. Thou darest not, coward, live to see 
+
+that day. 
+
+Fitz. Now, by my soul, I would it were this 
+
+hour. 
+
+Aum. Fitzwater, thou art damn’d to hell 
+
+for this. 
+
+Percy. Aumerle, thou liest; 
+
+as true 
+In this appeal as thou art all unjust; 
+And that thou art so, there I throw my gage, 
+To prove it on thee to the extremest point 
+Of mortal breathing: seize it, if thou darest. 
+
+Aum. An if I do not, may my hands rot off 
+And never brandish more revengeful steel 50 
+Over the glittering helmet of my foe! ; 
+
+Another Lord. | task the earth to the like, 
+
+Forsworn Aumerle; 
+And spur thee on with full as many lies 
+As may be holloa’d in thy treacherous ear 
+From sun to sun: there is my honour’s pawn; 
+Engage it to the trial, if thou darest. 
+Aum. Who sets me else? by heaven, I ‘ll 
+throw at all: 
+I have a thousand spirits in one breast, 
+To answer twenty thousand such as you. 
+Surrey. My lord Fitzwater, I do remember 
+wel! 60 
+
+
+his honour is 
+
+
+KING RICHARD II 
+
+
+459 
+
+
+The very time Aumerle and you did talk. 
+
+Fitz. "Tis very true: you were in presence 
+
+then; 
+And you can witness with me this is true. 
+
+Surrey. As false, by heaven, as heaven 
+
+itself is true. 
+
+Fitz. Surrey, thou liest. 
+
+Surrey. Dishonourable boy! 
+That lie shall lie so heavy on my sword, 
+That it shall render vengeance and revenge « 
+Till thou the lie-giver and that lie do lie 
+In earth as quiet as thy father’s skull: 
+
+In proof whereof, there is my honour’s pawn; 
+Engageiit to the trial, if thou darest. 71 
+Fitz. How fondly dost thou spur a forward 
+horse! 
+If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live, 
+I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness, 
+And spit upon him, whilst I say he lies, 
+And lies, and lies: there is my bond of faith, 
+To tie thee to my strong correction. 
+As | intend to thrive in this new world, 
+Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal: 
+Besides, I heard the banish’d Norfolk say 80 
+That thou, Aumerle, didst send two of thy men 
+To execute the noble duke at Calais. 
+Aum. Some honest Christian trust me with 
+
+
+a gage 
+That Norfolk lies: here do I throw down this, 
+If he may be repeal’d, to try his honour. 
+Boling. These differences shall all 
+under gage 
+Till Norfolk be repeal’d: repeal’d he shall be, 
+And, though mine enemy, restered again 
+To all his lands and signories: when he's 
+return’d, 
+Against Aumerle we will enforce his trial. 90 
+Car. That honourable day shall ne’er be 
+seen. 
+Many a time hath banish’d Norfolk fought 
+For Jesu Christ in glorious Christian field, 
+Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross 
+Against black pagans, Turks, and Saracens; 
+And toil’d with works of war, retired himself 
+To Italy; and there at Venice gave 
+His body to that pleasant country’s earth, 
+And his pure soul unto his captain Christ, 
+Under whose colours he had fought so long. 100 
+Boling. Why, bishop, is Norfolk dead? 
+Car. As surely as | live, my lord. 
+Boling. Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul 
+to the bosom 
+Of good old Abraham! Lord appellants, 
+Your differences shall all rest under gage 
+Till we assign you to your days of trial, 
+
+
+Enter York, attended. 
+
+
+York. Great Duke of Lancaster. I come to 
+thee 
+
+
+rest 
+
+
+460 
+
+
+KING RICHARD II 
+
+
+From plume-pluck’d Richard; who with will- 
+ing soul 
+
+Adopts thee heir, and his high sceptre yields 
+
+To the possession of thy royal hand: 110 
+
+Ascend his throne, descending now from him; 
+
+And long live Henry, fourth of that name! 
+
+Boling. In God's name, I'll ascend the 
+regal throne. 
+Car. Marry, God forbid! 
+
+Worst in this royal presence may I speak, 
+
+Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth. 
+
+Would God that any in this noble presence 
+
+Were enough noble to be upright judge 
+
+Of noble Richard! then true noblesse would 
+
+Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong. 
+
+What subject can give sentence on his king? 
+
+And who sits here that is not Richard’s subject? 
+
+Thieves are not judged but they are by to hear, 
+
+Although apparent guilt be seen in them; 
+
+And shall the figure of God's majesty, 
+
+His captain, steward, deputy-elect, 
+
+Anointed, crowned, planted many years, 
+
+Be judged by subject and inferior breath, 
+
+And he himself not present? O, forfend it, 
+God, 
+
+That in a Christian climate souls refined 130 
+
+Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed! 
+
+I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks, 
+
+Stirr'd up by God, thus boldly for his king. 
+
+My Lord of Hereford here, whom you call 
+king, 
+
+Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford’s king: 
+
+And if you crown him, let me prophesy: 
+
+The blood of English shall manure the ground, 
+
+And future ages groan for this foul act; 
+
+Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels, 
+
+And in this seat of peace tumultuous wars 140 
+
+Shall kin with kin and kind with kind 
+confound; 
+
+Disorder, horror, fear and mutiny 
+
+Shall here inhabit, and this land be call'd 
+
+The field of Golgotha and dead men’s skulls. 
+
+O, if you raise this house against this house, 
+
+It will the woefullest division prove 
+
+That ever fell upon this cursed earth. 
+
+Prevent it, resist it, let it not be so, 
+
+Lest child, child’s children, cry against you 
+
+
+‘woe!’ 
+North. Well have you argued, sir; and, for 
+your pains, 150 
+
+
+Of capital treason we arrest you here. 
+
+My Lord of Westminster, be it your charge 
+To keep him safely till his day of trial. 
+
+May it please you, lords, to grant the commons’ 
+
+
+sult. 
+Boling. Fetch hither Richard, that in com- 
+mon view 
+
+
+He may surrender; so we shall proceed 
+Without suspicion, 
+
+
+York. I will be his conduct. [Exit. 
+Boling. Lords, you that are here under our 
+arrest, 
+Procure your sureties for your days of answer. 
+Little are we beholding to your love, 160 
+And little look’d for at your helping hands. 
+
+
+Re-enter York, with RicHARD, and Officers 
+bearing the regaliu. 
+
+
+K. Rich. Alack, why am I sent for to a king, 
+Before I have shook off the regal thoughts 
+Wherewith I reign’d? I hardly yet have learn’d 
+To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my limbs: 
+Give sorrow leave awhile to tutor me 
+To this submission. Yet I well remember 
+The favours of these men: were they not mine? 
+Did they not sometime cry, ‘all hail!” to me? 
+So Judas did to Christ: but he, in twelve, 170 
+Found truth in all but one;. I, in twelve 
+
+thousand, none. 
+God save the king! Will no man say amen? 
+Am I both priest and clerk? well then, amen. 
+God save the king!- although I be not he; 
+And yet, amen, if heaven do think him me. 
+To do what service am I| sent for hither? 
+es To do that office of thine own good 
+wi 
+Which tired majesty did make thee offer, 
+The resignation of thy state and crown 
+To Henry Bolingbroke. 180 
+K. Rich. Give me the crown. Here, cousin, 
+seize the crown; 
+Here, cousin; 
+On this side my +hand, and on that side yours. 
+Now is this golden crown like a deep well 
+That owes two buckets, filling one another, 
+The emptier ever dancing in the air, 
+The other down, unseen and full of water: 
+That bucket down and full of tears am I, 
+Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on 
+high. 
+Boling. 1 thought you had been willing to 
+resign. 190 
+K. Rich. My crown I am; but still my 
+griefs are mine: 
+You may my glories and my state depose, 
+But not my griefs; still am I king of those. 
+
+Boling. Part of your cares you give me 
+
+with your crown. 
+
+K. Rich. Your cares set up do not pluck 
+
+my cares down. 
+My care is loss of care, by old care done; 
+Your care is gain of care, by new care won: 
+The cares I give I have, though given away; 
+They tend the crown, yet still with me they 
+
+
+stay. 
+Boling. Are you contented to resign the 
+crown? 200 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. 1 © 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. I] 
+
+
+K. Rich. Ay, no; no, ay; for I must 
+nothing be; 
+
+Therefore no no, for I resign to thee. 
+
+Now mark me, how I will undo myself: 
+
+I give this heavy weight from off my head 
+
+And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand, 
+
+The pride of kingly sway from out my heart; 
+
+With mine own tears I wash away my balm, 
+
+With mine own hands I give away my crown, 
+
+With mine own tongue deny my sacred state, 
+
+‘With mine own breath release all duty’s rites: 
+
+All pomp and majesty I do forswear; 21 
+
+My manors, rents, revenues | forego; 
+
+My acts, decrees, and statutes I deny: 
+
+God pardon all oaths that are broke to me! 
+
+God keep all vows unbroke that swear to thee! 
+
+Make me, that nothing have, with nothing 
+grieved, 
+
+And thou with all pleased, that hast all 
+achieved! 
+
+-Long mayst thou live in Richard's seat to sit, 
+
+And soon lie Richard in an earthy pit! 219 
+
+God save King Harry, unking'd Richard says, 
+
+And send him many years of sunshine days! 
+
+‘What more remains? 
+
+North. No more, but that you read 
+These accusations and these grievous crimes 
+Committed by your person and your followers 
+Against the state and profit of this land; 
+That, by confessing them, the souls of men 
+May deem that you are worthily deposed. 
+
+K. Rich. Must I do so? and must I ravel 
+
+out 
+My weaved-up folly ? Gentle Northumberland 
+If thy offences were upon record, 230 
+Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop 
+To read a lecture of them? If thou wouldst, 
+There shouldst thou find one heinous article, 
+Containing the deposing of a king 
+And cracking the strong warrant of an oath. 
+Mark’d with a blot, damn’d in the book of 
+heaven: 
+Nay, all of you that stand and look upon, 
+Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself, 
+Though some of you with Pilate wash your 
+hands 
+Showing an outward pity; yet you Pilates 240 
+Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross, 
+And water cannot wash away your sin. 
+
+North. My lord, dispatch; read o'er these 
+
+articles. 
+
+‘K. Rich. Mine eyes are full of tears, I 
+
+- cannot see: 
+
+And yet salt water blinds them not so much 
+But they can see a sort of traitors here. 
+Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself, 
+
+I find myself a traitor with the rest; 
+
+For I have given here my soul's consent 
+
+
+To undeck the pompous body of a king; 250 
+
+
+KING RICHARD I] 
+
+
+46 
+
+
+Made glory base and sovereignty a slave, 
+Proud majesty a subject, state a peasant. 
+North. My lord,— 
+K. Rich. No lord of thine, thou haught 
+insulting man, 
+Nor no man’s lord; I have no name, no title, 
+No, not that name was given me at the font, 
+But ‘tis usurp'd: alack the heavy day, 
+That I have worn so many winters out, 
+And know not now what name to call myself! 
+O that I were a mockery king of snow, 260 
+Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke, 
+To melt myself away in water-drops! 
+Good king, great king, and yet not greatly good, 
+An if my word be sterling yet in England, 
+Let it command a mirror hither straight, 
+That it may show me what a face I| have, 
+Since it is bankrupt of his majesty. 
+Boling. Go some of you and fetch a 
+looking-glass. [Exit an attendanl. 
+North. Read o'er this paper while the glass 
+doth come. 
+K. Rich. Fiend, thou torment’st me ere I 
+come to hell! 270 
+Boling. Urge it no more, my Lord North- 
+
+
+umberland, 
+
+North. The commons will not then be 
+satisfied. 
+
+K. Rich. They shall be satisfied: I ‘ll read 
+enough, 
+
+
+When I do see the very book indeed 
+Where all my sins are writ, and that’s myself. 
+Re-enter Attendant, with a glass. 
+Give me the glass, and therein will I read. 
+No deeper wrinkles yet? hath sorrow struck 
+So many blows upon this face of mine, 
+And made no deeper wounds? O flattering 
+glass, 
+Like to my followers in prosperity, 280 
+Thou dost beguile me! Was this face the face 
+That every day under his household roof 
+Did keep ten thousand men? was this the face 
+That, like the sun, did make beholders wink? 
+Was this the face that faced so many follies, 
+And was at last out-faced by Bolingbroke? 
+A brittle glory shineth in this face: 
+As brittle as the glory is the face; 
+[Dashes the glass against the ground. 
+For there it is, crack’d in a hundred shivers. 
+
+
+‘Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport, 290 
+
+
+How ‘soon my sorrow hath destroy’d my face. 
+Boling. The shadow of your sorrow hath 
+
+
+destroy'd 
+The shadow of your face. 
+K. Rich. Say that again. 
+
+
+The shadow of my sorrow! ha! let's see: 
+
+
+"Tis very true, my grief lies all within; 
+
+
+And these external manners of laments 
+Are merely shadows to the unseen grief 
+
+
+462 
+
+
+KING RICHARD IL 
+
+
+Ar, 
+
+
+That swells with silence in the tortured soul; 
+There lies the substance: and I thank thee 
+king, 
+For thy great bounty, that not only givest 300 
+Me cause to wail but teachest me the way 
+How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon, 
+And then be gone and trouble you no more. 
+Shall I obtain it? 
+Boling. Name it, fair cousin. 
+K. Rich. ‘Fair cousin’? I am greater than 
+a king: 
+For when | was king, my flatterers 
+Were then but subjects; being now a subject, 
+I have a king here to my flatterer. 
+Being so great, I have no need to beg, 
+Boling. Yet ask. 
+K. Rich. And shall I have? 
+Boling. You shall. 
+K. Rich. Then give me leave to go. 
+Boling. Whither ? 
+K. Rich. Whither you will, so I were 
+from your sights. 
+Boling. Go, some of you convey him to the 
+Tower. 
+K. Rich. O, good! convey? conveyers are 
+you all, 
+That rise thus nimbly by a true king’s fall. 
+[Exeunt King Richard, some Lords, 
+and a Guard. 
+Boling. On Wednesday next we solemnly 
+set down 
+Our coronation: lords, prepare yourselves. 320 
+[Exeunt all except the Bishop of Carlisle, the 
+Abbot of Westminster and Aumerle. 
+
+
+310 
+
+
+Abbot. A woeful pageant have we here 
+beheld. 
+
+Car. The woe’s to come; the children yet 
+unborn 
+
+
+Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn. 
+Aum. You holy clergymen, i is there no plot 
+To rid the realm of this pernicious blot? 
+Abbot.. My lord, 
+Before I freely Geeks my mind herein, 
+You shall not only take the sacrament 
+To bury mine intents, but also to effect 
+Whatever I shall happen to devise. 
+I see your brows are full of discontent, 
+Your hearts of sorrow and your eyes of tears: 
+Come home with me to supper; and I'll lav 
+A plot shall show us all a merry day. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT V. 
+London. A street leading to the 
+Tower. 
+Enter QuEEN and Ladies. 
+Queen. This way the king will come; this 
+is the way 
+To Julius Czsar’s. ill-erected tower, 
+
+
+Scene I. 
+
+
+330 | 
+
+
+To whose flint bosom my condemned lord. 
+
+Is doom’d a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke: 
+Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth 
+Have any resting for her true king's queen. 
+
+
+Enter RicHarD and Guard. 
+
+
+But soft, but see, or rather do not see, 
+
+My fair rose wither: yet look up, behold, 
+
+That you: in pity may dissolve to dew, g 
+
+And wash him fresh again with true-love tears, 
+
+Ah, thou, the mode] where old Troy did stand, 
+
+Thou map of honour, thou King Richard’. 
+tomb, 
+
+
+And not King Richard; 
+inn, 
+Why should hard-favour’d grief be lodged ite 
+
+
+thee, 
+When triumph is become an alehouse guest? 
+K. Rich. Join not with grief, fair woman, 
+do not so, 
+To make my end too sudden: learn, good soul_ 
+To think our former state a happy dream; 
+From which awaked, the truth of what we are 
+Shows us but this: I am sworn brother, sweet. 
+
+
+thou most beauteous 
+
+
+To grim Necessity, and he and | 2 
+Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to 
+France 
+
+
+And cloister thee in some religious house: 
+Our holy lives must win a new world’s crown, 
+Which our profane hours here have stricker 
+down. 
+Queen. What, is my Richard both in shape 
+and mind 
+Transform'd and weaken’d? hath Bolingbroke 
+deposed “ 
+Thine intellect? hath he been in thy heart? 
+The lion dying thrusteth forth his paw, 
+And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with 
+rage 30 
+To be o’erpower'd; and wilt thou, pupil-like, 
+Take thy correction mildly, kiss the rod, 
+And fawn on rage with base humility, 
+
+
+' Which art a lion and a king of beats? 
+
+
+K. Rich. A king of beasts, indeed; if aught 
+
+but beasts, 
+
+I had been still a happy king of men 
+
+Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence for 
+France: 
+
+Think I am dead and that even here thou 
+takest, 
+
+As from my death-bed, thy last living leave. 
+
+In winter’s tedious nights sit by the fire 40 
+
+With good old folks and let them tell thee 
+tales 
+
+Of woeful ages long ago betid; 
+
+And ere thou bid good night, to quit their 
+griefs, - 
+
+Tell thow::the lamentable tale of me « 
+
+And send the hearers weeping to’ their beds 30 
+
+
+[Ace /Sek 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. I] 
+
+
+KING RICHARD II 
+
+
+463 
+
+
+For why, the senseless brands will sympathize 
+
+
+The heavy accent of thy moving tongue 
+
+And in compassion weep the fire out; 
+
+And some will mourn in ashes, some coal- 
+black, 
+
+For the deposing of a rightful king. 50 
+
+
+Enter NoRTHUMBERLAND and others. 
+
+
+North. My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke 
+is changed; 
+You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower. - 
+And, madam, there is order ta’en for you; 
+With all swift speed you must away to France. 
+K. Rich. Northumberland, thou ladder 
+wherewithal 
+The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne, 
+The time shall not be many hours of age 
+More than it is ere foul sin gathering head 
+Shall break into corruption: thou shalt think, 
+Though he divide the realm and give thee half, 
+-It is too little, helping him to all; 6l 
+And he shall think that thou, which know’st 
+the way 
+To plant unrightful kings wilt know again, 
+Being ne’er so little urged, another way 
+To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne. 
+The love of wicked men converts to fear; 
+That fear to hate, and hate turns one or both 
+To worthy danger and deserved death. 
+North. My guilt be on my head, and there 
+
+
+an end. 
+Take leave and part; for you must part forth- 
+with. 
+K. Rich. Doubly divorced! Bad men, you 
+violate 
+
+
+A twofold marriage, ‘twixt my crown and me, 
+And then betwixt me and my married wife. 
+Let me unkiss the oath ‘twixt thee and me; 
+And yet not so, for with a kiss "twas made. 
+Part us, Northumberland; I towards the north, 
+Where shivering cold and sickness pines the 
+clime; 
+My wife to France: from whence, set forth 
+in pomp, 
+She came adorned hither like sweet May, 
+Sent back like Hallowmas or short’st of day. 
+Queen. And must we be divided? must we 
+part? 
+K. Rich. Ay, hand from hand, my love, 
+' and heart from heart. 
+Queen. Banish us both and send the king 
+with me. 
+North. That were some love but little policy. 
+Queen. Then whither he goes, thither let 
+me go. 
+K. Rich. So two, together weeping, make 
+one woe. 
+Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here; | 
+Petter far off than near, be ne’er the near. 
+
+
+i=) 
+
+
+Go, count thy way with sighs; I mine with 
+
+
+groans. 
+Queen. So longest way shall have the long- 
+est moans. 90 
+
+
+K. Rich. Twice for one step I ‘I! groan, the 
+way being short, 
+And piece the way out with a heavy heart. 
+Come, come, in wooing sorrow let's be brief, 
+Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief: 
+One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly 
+part; 
+Thus give I mine, and thus take I thy heart. 
+Queen. Give me mine own again; ‘(were 
+no good part 
+To take on me to keep and kill thy heart. 
+So, now I have mine own again, be gone, 
+That I may strive to kill it with a groan. 100 
+K. Rich. We make woe wanton with this 
+fond delay: 
+Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. The DuKE oF York's palace. 
+Enter York and his DucHEss. 
+
+
+Duch. My lord, you told me you would tell 
+the rest, 
+When weeping made you break the story off, 
+Of our two cousins coming into London. 
+York. Where did I leave? 
+Duch. At that sad stop, my lord, 
+Where rude misgovern'’d hands from windows’ 
+tops 
+Threw: dust and rubbish on King Richard's 
+head. 
+York. Then, as I said, the duke, great 
+Bolingbroke, 
+Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed 
+Which his aspiring rider seem’d to know, 
+With slow but stately pace kept on his course, 
+Whilst all tongues cried ‘God save thee, 
+
+
+Bolingbroke!’ 11 
+You would have thought the very windows 
+spake, 
+
+
+So many greedy looks of young and old 
+Through casements darted their desiring eyes 
+Upon his visage, and that all the walls 
+With painted imagery had said at once 
+‘Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke!” 
+Whilst he, from the one side to the other 
+turning, 
+Bareheaded, lower than his proud steed’s neck, 
+Bespake them thus: ‘I thank you, countrymen:’ 
+And thus still doing, thus he pass’d along. 21 
+Duch. Alack, poor Richard! where rode 
+he the whilst> 
+York. As in a theatre, the eyes of men, 
+| After a well-graced actor leaves the stage, 
+Are idly bent on him that enters next, 
+Thinking his prattle to be tedious; 
+
+
+464 
+
+
+Even so, or with much more contempt, men’s 
+eyes 
+
+Did scowl on gentle Richard; no man cried 
+‘God save him!’ 
+
+No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home: 
+
+But dust was thrown upon his sacred head; 30 
+
+Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off, 
+
+His face still combating with tears and smiles, 
+
+The badges of his grief and patience, 
+
+That had not God, for some strong purpose, 
+steel’d 
+
+The hearts of men, they must perforce have 
+melted 
+
+And barbarism itself have pitied him. 
+
+But heaven hath a hand in these events, 
+
+To whose high will we bound our calm contents. 
+
+To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now, 
+
+Whose stace and honour I for aye allow. 40 
+
+Duch. Here comes my son Aumerle. 
+York. Aumerle that was; 
+
+But that is lost for being Richard’s friend, 
+
+And, madam, you must call him Rutland now: 
+
+I am in parliament pledge for his truth 
+
+And lasting fealty to the new made king. 
+
+
+Enter AUMERLE. 
+
+
+Duch. Welcome, my 
+violets now 
+That strew the green lap of the new come 
+spring ? 
+Aum. Madam, | know not, nor | greatly 
+care not: 
+God knows I had as lief be none as one. 
+York. Well, bear you well in this new 
+spring of time, 50 
+Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime. 
+What news from Oxford? hold those justs 
+and triumphs? 
+Aum. For aught I know, my lord, they do. 
+York. You will be there, I know. 
+Aum. If God prevent not, I purpose so. 
+York. What seal is that, that hangs w:th- 
+out thy bosom? 
+Yea, look’st thou pale? let me see the writing. 
+Aum. My lord, ‘tis nothing. 
+York. No matter, then, who see it: 
+I will be satisfied; let me see the writing. 
+Aum. I do beseech your grace to pardon me: 
+It is a matter of small consequence, 6] 
+Which for some reasons I would not have seen. 
+York. Which for some reasons, sir, | mean 
+to see, 
+I fear, I fear,— 
+Duch. What should you fear? 
+‘Tis nothing but some bond, that he is enter’d 
+into 
+For gay apparel ‘against the triumph day. 
+York. Bound to himself! what doth he 
+with a bond 
+
+
+son: who are the 
+\ 
+
+
+KING RICHARD II ¢ 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. II 
+
+
+That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool. 
+Boy, let me see the writing. 
+Aum. I do beseech you, pardon me; I may 
+not show it. 
+York. I will be satisfied; let me see it, I say. 
+[He plucks it out of his bosom and reads it. 
+Treason! foul treason! Villain! traitor! slave! 
+Duch. What is the matter, my lord? 
+York. Ho! who is within there? 
+
+
+Enter a Servant. 
+
+
+Saddle my horse. 
+God for his mercy, what treachery,.is here! 
+Duch. Why, what is it, my lord? 
+York. Give me my boots, I say; saddle my 
+horse. ps [Exit Servant. 
+Now, by mine honour, by my life, by my troth, 
+I will appeach the villain. 
+Duch, What is the matter? 
+
+
+York. Peace, foolish woman. 
+
+
+Duch. I will not peace. What is the matter, 
+
+
+Aumerle? 
+Aum. Good mother, be content; it is no 
+more 
+Than my poor life must answer. 
+Duch., Thy life answer! 
+
+
+York. Bring me my boots: I will unto the 
+king. 
+
+
+Re-enter Servant with boots. 
+Duch. Strike him, Aumerle. 
+
+
+thou art amazed. 
+Hence, villain! never more come in my sight, 
+
+York. Give me my bcots, I say. 
+
+Duch. Why,*York, what wilt thou do? 
+Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own? 
+Have we more sons? or are we like to have? 
+Is not my teeming date drunk up with time? 
+And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age, 
+And rob me of a happy mother’s name? 
+
+Is he not like thee? is he not thine own? 
+
+York. .Thou fond mad woman, 
+
+Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy ? 
+
+A dozen of them here have ta’en the sacrament, 
+And interchangeably set down their hands, 
+To kill the king at Oxford. 
+
+Duch. He shall be none; 
+We'll keep him here: then what is that to him? 
+
+York. Away, fond woman! were he 
+
+twenty times my son, 101 
+1 would appeach him. 
+
+Duch. Hadst thou groan’d for him 
+As I have done, thou wouldst be more pitiful. 
+But now I know thy mind; thou dost suspect 
+That I have been disloyal to thy bed, 
+
+And that he is a bastard, not thy son: 
+
+Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that 
+mind: 
+
+He is as like thee as a man may be, 
+
+
+Poor boy, 
+
+
+Se 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. III] 
+
+
+Not like to me,-or any of my kin, 
+And yet I love him. 
+
+
+York. Make way, unruly woman! 110 
+
+é [Exit. 
+
+Duch. After, Aumerle! mount thee upon 
+his horse; 
+
+
+Spur post, and get before him to the king, 
+And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee. 
+I'll not be long behind; though I be old, 
+I:doubt not but to ride as fast as York: 
+
+And never will I rise up from the ground - 
+Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee. Away, 
+
+
+be gone! [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. A royal palace. 
+Enter BouincBroxe, Percy, and other Lords. 
+Boling. Can no man tell me of my un- 
+
+
+thrifty son? 
+
+‘Tis full three months since I did see him last: 
+
+If any plague hangs over us, ’tis he. 
+
+-1 would to God, my lords, he might be found: 
+
+Inquire at London, 'mongst the traverns there, 
+
+For there, they say, he daily doth frequent, 
+
+With unrestrained loose companions, 
+
+Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes, 
+
+And beat our watch, and rob our passengers; 
+
+Which he, young wanton and effeminate boy, 
+
+Takes on the point of honour to support 1 
+
+So dissolute a crew. 
+
+Percy. My lord, some two days since | 
+saw the prince, 
+
+And told him of those triumphs held at Oxford. 
+Boling. And what said the gallant? 
+Percy. His answer was he would unto the 
+
+stews, 
+
+And from the common’st creature pluck a glove, 
+
+And wear it as a favour; and with that 
+
+He would unhorse the lustiest challenger. 
+Boling. As dissolute as desperate; 
+
+through both 
+
+I see some sparks of better hope, which elder 
+
+years 
+
+May happily bring forth. But who comes here ? 
+
+
+yet 
+20 
+
+
+Enter AUMERLE. 
+Aum. Where is the king? 
+
+
+Boling. What means our cousin, that he 
+stares and looks 
+So wildly? 
+Aum. God save your grace! I do beseech 
+your majesty, 
+To have some renference with your grace alone. 
+Boling. Withdraw yourselves, and leave us 
+here alone. [Exeunt Percy and Lords. 
+What is the matter with our cousin now? 
+Aum. For ever may my knees grow to the 
+earth, 
+My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth, 
+Unless a pardon ere I rise or speak. 
+
+
+KING RICHARD II 
+
+
+465 
+
+
+Boling. Intended or committed was this 
+fault? 
+If on the first, how heinous e’er it be, 
+To win thy after-love I pardon thee. 
+Aum. Then give me leave that | may turn 
+the key, 
+That no man enter till my tale be done. _ 
+Boling. Have thy desire. 
+York. [Within] My liege, beware; look 
+to thyself; 
+Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there. 
+Boling. Villain, I'll make thee safe. 
+[Drawing. 
+Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand; thou hast 
+no cause to fear. 
+York. [Within] Open the door, secure, 
+foolhardy king: 
+Shall I for love speak treason to thy face? 
+Open the door, or I will break it open. 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+Enter York. 
+
+
+Boling. With is the matter, uncle? speak; 
+Recover breath; tell us how near is danger, 
+That we may arm us to encounter it. 
+
+York. Peruse this writing here, and thou 
+
+shalt know 
+The treason that my haste forbids me show. 
+Aum. Remember, as thou read'st, thy pro- 
+mise pass'd: 
+I do repent me; read not my name there: 
+My heart is not confederate with my hand. 
+York. It was, villain, ere thy hand did set 
+it down. 
+I tore it from the traitor’s bosom, king; 
+Fear, and not love, begets his penitence: 
+Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove 
+A serpent that will sting thee to the heart. 
+Boling. O heinous, strong and bold conspi- 
+racy! 
+O loyal father of a treacherous son! 60 
+Thou sheer, immaculate and silver fountain, 
+From whence this stream through muddy 
+passages 
+Hath held his current and defiled himself! 
+Thy overflow of good converts to bad, 
+And thy abundant goodness shall excuse 
+This deadly blot in thy digressing son. 
+York. So shall my virtue be his vice’s 
+bawd; 
+And he shall spend mine honour with his 
+shame, 
+As thriftless sons their scraping fathers’ gold. 
+Mine honour lives when his dishonour dies, 70 
+Or my shamed life in his dishonour lies: 
+Thou kill’st me in his life; giving him breath, 
+The traitor lives. the trve man’s put to death. 
+Duch. [Within! What ho, my liege! for 
+
+
+God's sake, let me in. 
+
+
+466 
+
+
+KING RICHARD II 
+
+
+[Act V, Se. IV 
+
+
+Boling. What shrill-voiced suppliant makes | Say ‘pardon,’ king; let pity. teach thee how: 
+
+
+this eager cry? : 
+Duch. A woman, and thy aunt, great king; 
+‘tis I. 
+Speak with me, pity me, open the door: 
+A begger begs that never begg’d before. — 
+Boling. Our scene is alter'd from a serious 
+
+
+thing, 
+And now changed to “The Beggar and the 
+King.’ 80 
+
+
+My dangerous cousin, let your mother in: 
+
+I know she is come to pray for your foul sin: 
+York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray, 
+
+More'sins for this forgiveness prosper may. 
+
+This fester’d joint cut off, the rest rest sound; 
+
+This let alone will all the rest confound. 
+
+
+Enter DucuEss. 
+Duch. O king, believe not this hard-hearted 
+
+
+man! 
+Love loving not itself none other can. 
+
+York. Thou frantic woman, what dost thou 
+
+make here? 
+Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear? 
+
+Duch. Sweet York, be patient. Hear me, 
+
+gentle liege. [Kneels. 
+
+Boling. Rise up, good aunt. 
+
+Duch. Not yet, I thee beseech: 
+For ever will I walk upon my knees, 
+
+And never see day that the happy sees, 
+
+Till thou give joy; until thou bid me joy, 
+
+By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy. 
+um. Unto my mother’s prayers I bend 
+my knee. 
+
+York. Against them both my true joints 
+
+bended be. 
+Il] mayst thou thrive, if thou grant any grace! 
+
+Duch. Pleads he in earnest? look upon his 
+
+face; 100 
+His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in 
+jest; 
+His words come from his mouth, ours from our 
+breast: 
+He prays but faintly and would be denied; 
+We pray with heart and soul and all beside: 
+His weary joints would gladly rise, 1 know: 
+Our knees shall kneel till to the ground they 
+grow: 
+His prayers are full of false hypocrisy; 
+Ours of true zeal and deep integrity. 
+Our prayers do out-pray his; then let them 
+have 109 
+That mercy which true prayer ought to have. 
+
+Boling. Good aunt, stand up. 
+
+Duch. Nay, do not say, ‘stand up;’ 
+Say ‘pardon’ first, and afterwards ‘stand up.’ 
+An if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach, 
+‘Pardon’ should be the first word of thy speech. 
+I never long’d to hear a word till now; 
+
+
+The word is short, but not so short as sweet; 
+No word like ‘pardon’ for kings’ mouths so 
+
+
+meet. - . 
+York. Speak it in French, king; say, ‘par- 
+donne moi.’ 
+Duch. Dost thou teach pardon pardon to 
+
+destroy ? 120 
+
+
+Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord, 
+That set’st the word itself against the word! 
+Speak ‘pardon’ as ‘tis current in our land; 
+The chopping French we do not understand. 
+Thine eye begins to speak; set thy tongue there; 
+Or in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear; _ 
+That hearing how our plaints and prayers do 
+pierce 
+Pity may move thee ‘pardon’ to rehearse. 
+Boling. Good aunt, stand up. 
+Duch. I do not sue to stand; 
+Pardon is all the suit I have in hand. 130 
+Boling. I pardon him, as God shall pardon 
+
+
+me. 
+
+Duch. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee! 
+Yet am I sick for fear: speak it again; 
+Twice saying ‘pardon’ doth not pardon twain, 
+But makes one pardon strong. 
+
+Boling. With all my heart 
+I pardon him. 
+
+Duch. A god on earth thou art. 
+
+Boling. But for our trusty brother-in-law 
+
+and the abbot, 
+With all the rest of that consorted crew, 
+Destruction straight shall dog them at the 
+heels. 
+Good uncle, help to order several powers 140 
+To Oxford, or where’er these traitors are: 
+They shall not live within this world, I swear, 
+But I will have them, if I once know where. 
+Uncle, farewell: and, cousin too, adieu: 
+Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you 
+true. 
+
+Duch. Come, my old son: I pray God 
+
+make thee new. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene IV. The same. 
+
+
+Enter Exton and Servant. 
+
+
+Exton. Didst thou not mark the king, what 
+words he spake, 
+‘Have I no friend will rid me of this living 
+
+
+fear?’ 
+Was it not so? 
+Serv. These were his very words. 
+
+
+Exton. ‘Have I no friend?’ quoth he: he 
+spake it twice, 
+And urged it twice together, did he not? 
+Serv. He did. 
+Exton. And speaking it, he wistly look’d 
+on me; 
+
+
+Fe oa ae 
+Act V, Sc. V] 
+
+
+KING RICHARD I 
+
+
+~ 467 
+
+
+As who should say, ‘I would thou wert the | I wasted time, and now doth time waste me; 
+
+
+man 
+That, would divorce this terror from my heart;’ 
+Meaning the king at Pomfret. Come, let's go: 
+I am the king’s friend, and will rid his foe. 11 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene V. Pomfret castle. 
+Enter Kinc RICHARD. 
+
+
+K. Rich. 1 have been studying how I may 
+compare 
+This prison where I live unto the world: 
+And for because the world is populous 
+And here is not a creature but myself, 
+I cannot do it; yet I'll hammer it out. 
+My brain I'll prove the female to my soul, 
+My soul the father; and these two beget 
+' A generation of still-breeding thoughts, 
+And these same thoughts people this little 
+world, 
+In humours like the people of this world, 10 
+For no thought is contented. The better sort, 
+As thoughts of things divine, are intermix'd 
+With scruples and do set the word itself 
+Against the word: 
+As thus, ‘Come, little ones,” and then again, 
+‘It is as hard to come as for a camel 
+To thread the postern of a small needle’s eye.’ 
+Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot 
+Unlikely wonders; how these vain weak nails 
+May tear a passage through the flinty ribs 20 
+Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls, 
+And, for they cannot, die in their own pride. 
+Thoughts tending to content flatter themselves 
+That they are not the first of fortune’s slaves, 
+Nor shall not be the last; like silly beggars 
+Who sitting in the stocks refuge their shame, 
+That many have and others must sit there; 
+And in this thought they find a kind of ease, 
+Bearing their own misfortunes on the back 
+Of such as have before endured the like. 30 
+Thus play I in one person many people, 
+And none contented: sometimes am I king; 
+Then treasons make me wish myself a beggar, 
+And so | am: then crushing penury 
+Persuades me I was better when a king; 
+Then am I king’d again: and by and by 
+Think that I am unking’d by Bolingbroke, 
+And straight am nothing: but whate’er | be, 
+Nor I nor any man that but man is 39 
+With nothing shall be pleased, till he be eased 
+With being nothing. Music do I hear? [Muisc. 
+Ha, ha! keep time: how sour sweet music is, 
+When time is broke and no proportion kept! 
+So is it in the music of men’s lives. 
+And here have I the daintiness of ear 
+To check time broke in a disorder’d string; 
+But for the concord of my state and time 
+Had not an ear to hear my true time broke. 
+
+
+For now hath time made me his numbering 
+
+
+clock: 
+
+My thoughts are minutes; and with sighs they 
+jar 
+
+Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward 
+watch, 4 
+
+
+Whereto my finger, like a dial’s point 
+Is pointing still, im cleansing them from tears, 
+Now sir, the sound that tells what hour it is 
+Are clamorous groans, which strike upon my 
+heart, 
+Which is the bell: so sighs and tears and 
+groans 
+Show minutes, times, and hours: but my time 
+Runs posting on in Bolingbroke’s proud joy, 
+While I stand fooling here, his Jack o’ the 
+clock. 60 
+This music mads me; let it sound no more; 
+For though it have holp madmen to their wits, 
+In me it seems it will make wise men mad. 
+Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me! 
+For ‘tis a sign of love; and love to Richard 
+Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world. 
+
+
+Enter a Groom of the Stable. 
+
+
+Groom. Hail, royal prince! 
+
+K., Rich. Thanks, noble peer; 
+The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear. 
+What art thou? and how comest thou hither, 
+Where no man never comes but that sad dog 
+That brings me food to make misfortune live? 
+
+Groom. I was a poor groom of thy stable, 
+
+king, 
+
+When thou wert king; who, travelling towards 
+York, 
+
+With much ado at length have gotten leave 
+
+To look upon my sometimes royal master’s 
+face. 
+
+O, how it yearn’d my heart when I heheld 
+
+In London streets, that coronation-day, 
+
+When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary, 
+
+That horse that thou so often hast bestrid, 
+
+That horse that I so carefully have dress’d! 80 - 
+
+K. Rich. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, 
+
+gentle friend, 
+
+How went he under him? 
+
+Groom. So proudly as if he disdain’d the 
+
+ground, 
+
+K. Rich. So proud that Bolingbroke was 
+
+on his back! 
+That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand; 
+This hand hath made him proud with clapping 
+him. 
+Would he not stumble? would he not fall down, 
+Since pride must have a fall, and break the 
+neck 
+Of that proud man that did usurp his back? 
+Forgiveness, horse! why do I rail on thee, 90 
+
+
+468 
+
+
+KING RICHARD. II 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. V4 
+
+
+SS SS ES eee 06060 ne 
+
+
+Since thou, created to be awed by man, 
+
+Wast born to bear? 1 was not made a horse; 
+
+And yet I bear a burthen like an ass, 
+
+Spur-gall’d and tired by jauncing Boling- 
+broke. 
+
+
+Enter Keeper, with a dish. 
+
+
+Keep. Fellow, give place; here is no longer 
+stay. 
+
+K. Rich. If thou love me, ‘tis time thou 
+wert away. 
+
+Groom. What my tongue dares not, that 
+my heart shall say. Exit. 
+
+Keep. My lord, will ’t please you to fall to? 
+
+K. Rich. Taste of it first, as thou art wont 
+
+
+to do. 
+
+Keep. My lord, I dare not: Sir Pierce of 
+Exton, who lately came from the king, com- 
+mands the contrary. 
+
+K. Rich. The devil take Henry of Lan- 
+
+caster and thee! 
+Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. 
+[Beats the keeper. 
+Keep. Help, help, help! 
+
+
+Enter Exton and Servants, armed. 
+
+
+K. Rich. How now! what means death in 
+this rude assault? 
+Villain, thy own hand yields thy death’s in- 
+strument. 
+[Snatching an axe from a Servant and 
+killing him. 
+Go thou, and fill another room in hell. 
+[He kills another. Then Exton strikes him 
+down. 
+That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire 
+
+
+That staggers thus my person. Exton, thy 
+fierce han 110 
+
+Hath with the king’s blood stain’d the king’s 
+own land. 
+
+
+Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on 
+high; 
+
+Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here 
+to die. Dies. 
+
+Exton. As full of valour as of royal blood: 
+
+Both have I spill’d; O would the deed were 
+good! 
+
+For now the devil, that told me I did well, 
+
+Says that this deed is chronicled in hell. 
+
+This dead king to the living king I ‘ll bear: 
+
+Take hence the rest, and give them burial 
+here. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene VI. Windsor castle. 
+
+
+Flourish. Enter BoLtiNcBROKE, YORK, with 
+other Lords. and Attendants. 
+
+
+Boling. Kind uncle York, the latest news 
+
+
+we hear 
+
+
+Is that the rebels have consumed with fire 
+Our town of Cicester in Gloucestershire; 
+But whether they be ta’en or slain we hear not. 
+
+
+’ 
+Enter NoRTHUMBERLAND. 
+
+
+Welcome, my lord: what is the news? 
+North. First, to thy sacred state wish I all 
+happiness. 
+The next news is, I have to London sent 
+The heads of Oxford, Salisbury, Blunt, and 
+Kent: 
+The manner of their taking may appear 
+At large discoursed in this paper here. 16 
+Boling. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for 
+thy pains; 
+And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. 
+
+
+Enter FitzwaTer. 
+
+
+Fitz. My lord, I have from Oxford sent 
+to London 
+The heads of Brocas and Sir Bennet Seely, 
+Two of the dangerous consorted traitors 
+That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow. 
+Boling. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be 
+forgot; 
+Right noble is thy merit, well I wot. 
+
+
+Enter Percy, and the BisHop oF CaRLISLE. 
+Percy. The grand conspirator, Abbot of 
+Westminster, 
+With clog of conscience and sour melancholy 
+Hath yielded up his body to the grave; 21 
+But here is Carlisle living, to abide 
+Thy kingly doom and sentence of his pride. 
+Boling. Carlisle, this is your doom: 
+Choose out some secret place, some reverend 
+room, 
+More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life; 
+So as thou livest in peace, die free from strife: 
+For though mine enemy thou hast ever been, 
+High sparks of honour in thee have I seen. 
+
+
+Enter Exton, with persons bearing a coffin. 
+
+
+Exton. Great king, within this coffin I 
+present 30 
+Thy buried fear; herein all breathless lies 
+The mightiest of thy greatest enemies, 
+Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought. 
+Boling. Exton, I thank thee not; for thou 
+hast wrought 
+A deed of slander with thy fatal hand 
+Upon my head and all this famous land. 
+Exton. From your own mouth, my lord, did 
+I this deed. 
+Boling. They love not poison that do 
+poison need, 
+
+
+- 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. VI] KING RICHARD II 469 
+
+
+Nor do I thee: though I did wish him dead, | Lords, I protest, my soul is full of Saat 
+I hate the murderer, love him murdered. 40 | That blood should sprinkle me to make me 
+
+
+The guilt of conscience take thou for thy grow: 
+labour, Come, mourn with me for that I do lament, 
+But neither my good word nor princely | And put on sullen black incontinent: 50: 
+favour: 
+
+
+Ill make a voyage to the Holy Land, 
+With Cain go wander thorough shades of night, | To wash this blood off from my guilty hand: 
+
+
+And never show thy head by day nor| March sadly after; grace my mournings here; 
+light. In weeping after this untimely bier. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+THE FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSON£E. 
+
+
+Kine Henry the Fourth. 
+
+
+Henry, Prince of Wales, prone the 
+JouN of Lancaster, King. 
+
+
+Ear_ or WESTMORELAND. 
+
+Sir Water Biunt. 
+
+Tuomas Percy, Earl of Worcester. 
+
+Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland. 
+
+Henry Percy, surnamed Hotspur, 
+son. 
+
+Epmunp Mortimir, Earl of March. 
+
+Ricuarp Scroop, Archbishop of York. 
+
+ARCHIBALD, Earl of DoucLas. 
+
+Owen GLENDOWER. 
+
+Sir RicHarp VERNON. 
+
+Sir JoHN FALstarr. 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+
+
+Scene I. London. The palace. 
+
+
+Enter Kinc Henry, Lorp JoHN oF LAN- 
+CASTER, the EARL OF WESTMORELAND, SIR 
+Wa ter Bunt, and others. 
+
+
+King. So shaken as we are, so wan with 
+care, 
+Find we a t'me for frighted peace to pant, 
+And breathe short-winded accents of new 
+
+broils 
+To be commenced in strands afar remote. 
++No more the thirsty entrance of this soil 
+Shall daub her lips with her own children’s 
+blood; 
+No more shall trenching war channel her fields, 
+Nor bruise her flowers with the armed hoofs 
+Of hostile paces: those opposed eyes, 
+Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven, 
+All of one nature, of one substance bred, 
+Did lately meet in the intest’ne shock 
+And furious close of civil butchery 
+Shall now, in mutual well-beseeming ranks, 
+March all one way and be no more opposed 
+Against acquaintance, kindred and allies: 
+The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife, 
+No more shall cut his master. Therefore, 
+friends, 
+As far as to the sepulchre of Christ, 
+Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross 
+We are impressed and engaged to fight, 21 
+
+
+his 
+
+
+Sir Micuae., a friend to the Archbisnop 
+
+
+of York. 
+Poins. 
+
+
+GaDSsHILL. 
+
+
+PETo. 
+BarDOoLpH. 
+
+
+Lapy Percy, wife of Hotspur, and sister to 
+
+
+Mortimer. 
+
+Lapy Mortimer, daughter to Glendower, and 
+wife to Mortimer. 
+
+Mistress QuicKLy, hostess of a tavern in 
+Eastcheap. 
+
+Lords, Officers, Sheriff, Vintner, Chamber- 
+lain, Drawers, two Carriers, Travellers, and 
+Attendants. 
+
+Scene: England. 
+
+
+Forthwith a power of England shall we levy; 
+Whose arms were moulded in their mothers’ 
+womb ' 
+To chase these pagans in those holy fields 
+Over whose acres walk’d those blessed feet 
+Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd 
+For our advantage on the bitter cross. 
+But this our purpose now is twelve month old, 
+And bootless ‘tis to tell you we will go: 
+Therefore we meet not now. Then let me hear 
+Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland, 31 
+What yesternight our council did decree 
+In forwarding this dear expedience. 
+
+
+West... My liege, this haste was hot in 
+
+
+question, 
+And many limits of the charge set down 
+But yesternight: when all athwart there came 
+A post from Wales loaden with heavy news; 
+Whose worst was, that the noble Mortimer, 
+Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight 
+Against the irregular and wild Glendower, 40 
+Was by the rude hands of that Welshman 
+taken, 
+A thousand of his people butchered; 
+Upon whose dead corpse there was such misuse, 
+Such beastly shameless transformation, 
+By those Welshwomen done as may not be 
+Without much shame retold or spoken of. 
+King. It seems then that the t dings of this 
+broil 
+
+
+! Brake off our business for the Holy Land. 
+
+
+470 
+
+
+| 
+| 
+
+
+eS eee eee 
+
+
+Ee 
+
+
+Act I, Sc. I] FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+=. 
+
+
+KING HENRY IV 471 
+
+
+West. This match’d with other did, my 
+gracious lord; 
+For more uneven and unwelcome news 50 
+Came from the north and thus it did import: 
+On Holy-rood day, the gallant Hotspur there, 
+Young Harry Percy and brave Archibald, 
+That ever-valiant and approved Scot, 
+At Holmedon met, 
+Where they did spend a sad and bloody 
+hour; 
+As by discharge of their artillery, 
+And shape of likelihood, the news was told; 
+For he that brought them, in the very heat 
+And pride of their contention did take horse, 
+Uncertain of the issue any way. 
+King. Here is a dear, a true industrious 
+friend, 
+Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse, 
+Stain’d with the variation of each soil 
+Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours; 
+And he hath brought us smooth and welcome 
+~ news. 
+The Earl of Douglas is discomfited: 
+Ten thousand bold Scots, two and twenty 
+knights, 
+Balk’d in their own blood did Sir Walter see 
+On Holmedon’s plains. Of prisoners, Hotspur 
+took 70 
+Mordake the Earl of Fife, and eldest son 
+To beaten Douglas; and the Earl of Athol, 
+Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith: 
+And is not this an honourable spoil? 
+A gallant prize? ha, cousin, is it not? 
+West. In faith, 
+It is a conquest for a prince’ to boast of. 
+- King. Yea, there thou makest me sad and 
+makest me sin 
+In envy that my Lord. Northumberland 
+Should be the father to so blest a son, 80 
+A son who is the theme of honour’s tongue; 
+Amongst a grove, the very straightest plant; 
+Who is sweet Fortune's minion and her pride: 
+Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him, 
+See riot and dishonour stain the brow 
+Of my young Harry. O that it could be proved 
+That some night-tripping fairy had exchanged 
+In cradle-clothes our children where they lay, 
+And call’d mine Percy, his Plantagenet! 
+Then would I have his ‘Harry, and he mine. 
+But let him from my thoughts. What think 
+you, coz, 
+Of this young Percy’s pride? the prisoners, 
+Which he in this adventure hath surpr’sed, 
+To his‘own use he keeps; and sends me 
+word, 
+I shall have none but Mordaké Earl of Fife. 
+West. This is his uncle’s heachings this is 
+Worcester, 
+Malevolent to you in all aspects: 
+
+
+Which makes him prune himself, and bristie 
+up : : 
+
+The crest of youth against your dignity. 
+
+King. But I have sent for him to answer 
+
+this; 106 
+
+And for this cause awhile we must neglect 
+
+Our holy purpose to Jerusalem. 
+
+Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we 
+
+Will hold at Windsor; so inform the lords: 
+
+But come yourself with speed to us again; 
+
+For more is to be said and to be done 
+
+Than out of anger can be uttered. 
+
+
+West. I will, my liege. [Exeuni. 
+Scene II. London. An apartment of the 
+Prince's. 
+
+
+Enter the: PRINCE OF WaALEs and FALstTaFrF. 
+
+
+Fal, Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad? 
+
+Prince. Thou art so fat-witted, with drink- 
+ing of old sack and unbuttoning thee afte: 
+supper and sleeping upon benches after noon, 
+that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly 
+which thou wouldst truly know. What a devil 
+hast thou to do with the time of the day? 
+Unless hours were cups of sack and minutes 
+capons and clocks the tongues of bawds and 
+dials the signs of leaping-houses and the blessed 
+sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-coloured 
+taffeta, 1 see no reason why thou shouldst be 
+so superfluous to demand the time of the day. 
+
+Fal. Indeed, you come near me now, Hai; 
+for we that take purses go by the moon and 
+the seven stars, and not by Phcebus, he, ‘that 
+wandering knight so fair.. And, I prithee, 
+sweet wag, when thou art king, as, God save 
+thy grace,—mayjesty I should say, for grace 
+
+
+thou wilt have none,— 2¢ 
+Prince. What, none? : 
+Fal. No, by my troth, not so much as wihi 
+
+
+serve to be prologue to an egg and butter. 
+
+
+Prince. Well, how then? come, roundly, 
+roundly. 
+Fal. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art 
+
+
+king, let not us that are squires of the night's 
+body be called thieves of the day’s beauty: le: 
+us be Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the shade, 
+minions of the moon; and let men say we be 
+men of good government, being governed, a: 
+the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the 
+moon, under whose countenance we steal. 
+Prince. Thou sayest well, and it holds well 
+too; for the fortune of us that are the moon's 
+men doth ebb and flow Ike the sea, being 
+governed, as the sea is, by the moon. As, for 
+proof, now: a purse of. gold most resolutely 
+snatched on Monday night and most dissolute)v 
+spent on Tuesday morning; got with swearing 
+‘Lay by’ and spent with crying “Bring in;’ 
+
+
+| now in as low an ebb as the foot of the lad- 
+
+
+472 FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+der and by and by in as high a flow as the 
+ridge of the gallows. 
+
+Fal. By the Lord, thou sayest true, lad. 
+And is not my hostess of the tavern a most 
+sweet wench? 
+
+Prince. As the honey of Hybla, my old 
+lad of the castle. And is not a buff jerkin a 
+most sweet robe of durance? 49 
+
+Fal. How now, how now, mad wag! 
+what, in thy qu ps and thy quiddities? what a 
+plague have I to do with a buff jerkin? 
+
+Prince. Why, what a pox have I ‘to do 
+with my hostess of the tavern? 
+
+Fal. Well, thou hast called her to a reck- 
+oning many a time and oft. 
+
+Prince. Did | ever call for thee to pay thy 
+part? : 
+
+Fal. No; I'll give thee thy due, thou hast 
+paid all there. 6 
+
+Prince. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my 
+coi would stretch; and where it would not, 
+I have used my credit. 
+
+Fal. Yea, and so used it that, were it not 
+here apparent that thou art her apparent— 
+But, I prithee, sweet wag, shall there be gal- 
+lows standing in England when-thou art king? 
+and resolution thus fobbed as it’is with the 
+rusty curb of old father antic the law? Do 
+not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief. 70 
+
+Prince. No; thow shalt. 
+
+Fal. Shall 1? O rare? By the Lord, I'll 
+be a brave judge. 
+
+Prince. 
+mean, thou shalt have the hanging of the 
+thieves and so become a rare hangman. 
+
+Fal. Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it 
+jumps with my humour as well as waiting in 
+the court, I can tell you. 
+
+Prince. For obtaining of suits? 80 
+
+Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suits, whereof 
+the hangman hath no lean wardrobe. *Sblood, 
+I am as melancholy as a gib cat or a lugged 
+bear. 
+
+Prince. Or an old lion, or a lover's lute. 
+
+Fal. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire 
+bagpipe. 
+
+Prince. What sayest thou to a hare, or the 
+melancholy of Moor-ditch? 
+
+Fal. Thou has the most unsavoury similes 
+and art indeed the most comparative, ras- 
+calliest, sweet young Prince. But Hal, I 
+prithee, trouble me no more with vanity. | 
+would to God thou and J knew where a com- 
+modity of good names were to be bought. 
+An old lord of the council rated me the other 
+day in the street about you, sir, but I marked 
+him not; and yet he talked very wisely, but 
+I regarded him not; and yet he talked wisely, 
+and in the street too. 
+
+
+Thou judgest false already: [| 
+
+
+[Acr 4, 
+
+
+KING HENRY IV Sc. II 
+Prince. Thou didst well; for wisdom cries 
+out in the streets, and no man regards it. 100 
+Fal, O, thou hast damnable iteration and 
+are indeed able to corrupt a saint. Thou hast 
+done much harm upon me, Hal; God forgive 
+thee for it! Before | knew thee, Hal, I knew 
+nothing; and now am JI, if a man should 
+speak truly, little better than one of the wicked. 
+I must give over this life, and I will give it 
+over: by the Lord, an I do not, I ama villain: 
+I'll be damned for never a king’s son in 
+Christendom. 
+Prince. Where shall we take a purse to- 
+morrow, Jack? 11 
+Fal. ‘Zounds, where thou wilt, lad; I'll 
+make one; an I do not, call me villain and 
+baffle me. 
+
+
+Prince. I see a good amendment of life 
+
+
+0 |in thee; from praying to purse-taking. 
+
+
+Fal. Why, Hal, ’tis my vocation, Hal; ’tis 
+no sin for a man to labour in h’s vocation. 
+
+
+Enter Poins. 
+
+
+Poins! Now shall we know if Gadshill have 
+set a match. O, if men were to be saved by 
+merit, what hole in hell were hot enough for 
+him? This is the most omnipotent villain 
+
+
+that ever cried ‘Stand’ to a true man, 
+Prince. Good morrow, Ned. 
+
+
+Poins. Good morrow, sweet Hal. What 
+Says Monsieur Remorse? what says Sir John 
+Sack and Sugar? Jack! how agrees the devil 
+and thee about thy soul, that. thou soldest 
+him on Good-Friday last for a cup of Ma- 
+deira and a cold capon’s leg? 129 
+
+Prince. Sir John stands to his word, the 
+devil shall have his bargain; for he was never 
+yet a breaker of proverbs: he will give the 
+devil his due. 
+
+Poins. Then art thou damned for keeping 
+thy word with the devil. 
+
+Prince. Else he had been damned for coz- 
+ening the devil. 
+
+Poins. But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow 
+morning, by four o'clock, early at Gadshill! 
+there are pilgrims going to Canterbury with 
+rich offerings, and traders riding to London 
+with fat purses: I have vizards for you all; 
+you have horses for yourselves: Gadshill lies 
+to-night in Rochester: I have bespoke supper 
+to-morrow night in Eastcheap: we may do it 
+as secure as sleep. If you will go, I will stuff 
+your purses full of crowns; if you will not, 
+tarry at home and be hanged. 
+
+Fal. Hear ye, Yedward; if I tarry at 
+home and go not, Ill hang you for going. 
+
+Poins. You will, chops? 
+
+Fal. Hal, wilt thou make one? 
+
+
+x 
+
+
+“Act I, Sc. III] 
+
+
+Prince. Who, I rob? I a thief? not I, by 
+my faith. 
+Fal, There’s neither honesty, manhood, 
+
+
+nor good fellowship in thee, nor thou camest 
+
+
+not of the blood royal, if thou darest not stand 
+
+
+for ten shillings. - 
+
+Prince. Well then, once in my days I'll 
+be a madcap. 160 
+
+Fal. Why, that’s well said. 
+
+Prince. Well, come what will, I ‘ll tarry at 
+home. 
+
+Fal. By the Lord, I'll be a traitor then, 
+when thou art king. 
+
+Prince. I care not. 
+
+Poins. Sir John, I prithee, leave the prince 
+and me alone: I will lay him down such 
+reasons for this adventure that he shall go. 
+
+Fal. Well, God give thee the spirit of per- 
+suasion and him the ears of profiting, that what 
+thou speakest may move and what he hears 
+may be believed, that the true prince may, for 
+
+
+~-recreation sake, prove a false thief; for the 
+
+
+poor abuses of the time want countenance. 
+Farewell: you shall find me in Eastcheap. 
+
+Prince. Farewell, thou latter spring! fare- 
+well, All-hallown summer! 
+
+Poins. Now, my good sweet honey lord, 
+ride with us to-morrow: I have a jest to exe- 
+cute that I cannot manage alone. Falstaff, 
+Bardolph, Peto and Gadshill shall rob those 
+men that we have already waylaid; yourself 
+and I will not be there; and when they have 
+the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut 
+this head ‘off from my shoulders. 
+
+Prince. How shall we part with them in 
+setting forth? 
+
+Poins. Why, we will sct forth before or 
+after them, and appoint them a place of meet- 
+ing, wherein it is at our pleasure to fail, and 
+then will they adventure upon the exploit 
+themselves; which they shall have no sooner 
+achieved, but we ‘ll set upon them. 
+
+Prince. Yea, but ’tis like that they will 
+
+
+__ know us by our horses, by our habits and by 
+
+
+Pe. 
+
+
+every other appointment,’ to be ourselves. 
+
+Poins. Tut! our horses they shall not see: 
+I ‘Il tie them in the wood; our vizards we will 
+change after we leave them: and, sirrah, ‘| 
+have cases of buckram for the nonce, to im- 
+mask our noted outward garments. 
+
+Prince. Yea, but I doubt they will be too 
+hard for us. 
+
+Poins. Well, for two of them, I know them 
+to be as true-bred cowards as ever turned 
+back; and for the third, if he fight lonver than 
+he sees reason, 1'll forswear arms. The vir- 
+tue of this jest will be, the incomprehensible 
+lies that this same fat rogue will tell us when 
+we meet at supper: how thirty, at least, he 
+
+
+_ FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+[Exit Falstaff. 
+
+
+Ps 
+
+
+473 
+
+
+fought with; what wards, what blows, what 
+extremities he endured; and in the reproof of 
+this lies the jest. 
+
+Prince. Well, I'll go with thee: provide 
+us all things necessary and meet me to-mor- 
+
+
+row night in Eastcheap; there Ill sup. 
+Farewell. 
+Poins. Farewell, my lord. [ Exit. 
+
+
+Prince. 1 know you all, and will awhile 
+uphold 
+The unyoked humour of your idleness: 
+Yet herein will I imitate the sun, 220 
+Who doth permit the base contagious clouds 
+To smother up his beauty from the world, 
+That, when he please again to be himself, 
+Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at, 
+By breaking through the foul and ugly mists 
+Of vapours that did seem to strangle him. 
+If all the year were playing holidays, 
+To sport would be as tedious as to work; 
+But when they seldom come, they wish'd for 
+come, 
+
+And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. 230 
+So, when this loose behaviour | throw off 
+And pay the debt I never promised, 
+By how much better than my word I am, 
+By so much shall I falsify men’s hopes; 
+And like bright metal on a sullen ground, 
+My reformation, glittering o'er my fault, 
+Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes 
+Than that which hath no foil to set it off. 
+I'll so offend, to make offence a skill: 239 
+Redeeming time when men think least | will. 
+
+
+[ Exit. 
+
+
+London. ‘The palace. 
+
+
+Enter the Kinc, NorTHUMBERLAND, Wor- 
+CESTER, Hotspur, Sir WaLTeR BLunt, 
+with others. 
+
+
+King. My blood hath been too cold an 
+temperate, 
+Unapt to stir at these indignities, 
+And you have found me; for accordingly 
+You tread upon my patience: but be sure 
+I will from henceforth rather be myself, 
+Mighty and to be fear’d, than my condition; 
+Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as 
+young down, 
+And therefore lost that title of respect 
+Which the proud soul ne'er pays but to the 
+proud. 
+Wor. Our house, my sovereign liege, little 
+deserves 
+The scourge of greatness to be used on it; 
+And that same greatness too which our own 
+hands 
+Have holp to make so portly. 
+North. My lord,— 
+
+
+Scene III. 
+
+
+4g FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY IV {Acr I, Se. I 
+
+
+King. Worcester, get thee gone; for I do 
+see 
+Danger and disobedience in thine eye: 
+QO, sir, your presence is too bold and peremp- 
+tory, 
+And majesty might never yet endure 
+The moody frontier of a servant brow. 
+You have good leave to leave us: when we 
+need 20 
+Your use and counsel, we shall send for you. 
+[Exit Wor. 
+‘You were about to speak. [To North: 
+
+North. Yea, my good lord. 
+
+Those prisoners in your highness’ name de- 
+manded, 
+
+Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took, 
+
+Where, as he says, not with such strength 
+denied 
+
+As is deliver’d to your majesty: 
+
+Either envy, therefore, or misprision 
+
+{s guilty of this fault and not my son. 
+Hot. My liege, I did deny no prisoners. 
+But I remember, when the fight was done, 30 
+When I was dry with rage and extreme toil, 
+Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, 
+Came there a certain lord, neat, and trimly 
+dress’d, 
+
+Fresh as a bridegroom; .and his chin new 
+reap’d 
+
+Show’d like a stubble-land at harvest-home; 
+
+He was perfumed like a milliner; 
+
+And ‘twixt his finger and his thumb he held 
+
+A pouncet-box, which ever and anon 
+
+He gave h's nose and took 't away again; 
+
+Who therewith angry, when it next came 
+there, 40 
+
+Took it in snuff; and still he smiled and talk’d, 
+
+And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, 
+
+He call’d them untaught knaves, unmannerly, 
+
+To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse 
+
+Betwixt the wind and his nobility, 
+
+With many holiday and lady terms 
+
+He question’d me; amongst the rest, 
+manded 
+
+My prisoners in your majesty’s behalf. 
+
+{ then, all. smartng with my wounds being 
+cold, 
+
+To be so pester’d with a popinjay. 50 
+
+Out of my grief and my impatience, 
+
+Answer'd neglectingly I know not what, 
+
+He should, or he should not; for he made me 
+mad 
+
+To see him shine so brisk and smell so sweet 
+
+And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman 
+
+Of guns and drums and 5 ep save 
+‘the mark! 
+
+And telling me the Rovereren ‘st thing on earth 
+
+Was parmaceti for an inward bruise; | 
+
+And that it was great pity, so it was, 
+
+
+de- 
+
+
+This villanous salt-petre should be digg’d 60 
+Out of the bowels of the harmless earth, 
+Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'’d 
+So cowardly; and but for these vile guns, 
+He would himself have been a soldier. 
+This bald unjointed chat of his, my: lord, 
+I answer’d indirectly, as | said; 
+And I beseech you, let not his report 
+Come current for an accusation 
+Betwixt my love and your high majesty. 
+Blunt. The circumstance consider’d, good 
+my lord, 70 
+Whate’er Lord Harry Percy then had said 
+To such a person and in such a place, 
+At such a time, with ell the rest retold, 
+May reasonably die and never rise 
+To do him wrong or any way impeach 
+What then he said, so he unsay it now. 
+King. Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners, 
+But with proviso and exception, 
+That we at our own charge shall ransom 
+straight 
+His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer; 80 
+Who, on my soul, hath wilfully betray’d 
+The lives of those that he did lead to fight 
+Against that great magician, damn’d Glen- 
+dower, 
+Whose daughter, as we hear, the Earl of 
+March 
+Hath lately married. Shall our coffers, then, 
+Be emptied to redeem a traitor home? 
+Shall we buy treason? and indent with fears, 
+When they have lost and forfeited them- 
+selves ? 
+No, on the barren mountains let him starve; 
+For I shall never hold that man my friend 90 
+Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost 
+To ransom home revolted Mortimer. 
+Hot. Revolted Mortimer! 
+He never did fall off, my sovereign liege, 
+But by the chance of war: to prove that true 
+Needs no more but one tongue for all those 
+wounds, 
+Those eS wounds, which valiantly he 
+took, 
+When on the gentle Severn’s sedgy bank, 
+In single opposition, hand to hand, 
+He did confound the best part of an hour 100 
+In changing hardiment with great Glendower: 
+Three times they breathed and three times did 
+they drink, 
+Upon agreement, of swift Severn’s flood; 
+Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks, 
+Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds, 
+And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank 
+Bloodstained with these valiant combatants. 
+Never did base and rotten policy 
+Colour her working with such deadly wounds; 
+'Nor never could the noble Mortimer 110 
+
+
+Act I, Se, III] FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY IV 475 
+
+
+Receive so many, and all willingly: 
+Then let not him be slander’d with revolt. 
+King., Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou 
+dost belie him; 
+He never did encounter with Glendower: 
+I tell thee, 
+He durst as well have met the devil alone 
+As Owen Glendower for an enemy. 
+Art thou not ashamed? But, sirrah, hence- 
+forth 
+Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer: | 
+Send me your prisoners with the speediest 
+means 120 
+Or you shall hear in such a kind from me 
+As will displease you. My Lord Northum- 
+berland, 
+We license your departure with your son. 
+Send us your prisoners, or you will hear of it. 
+[Exeunt King Henry, Blunt, and train. 
+Hot. An if the devil come and roar for 
+them, 
+“I will not send them: I| will after straight 
+And tell him so; for I will ease my heart, 
+Albeit I make a hazard of my head. 
+North. What, drunk with choler? stay and 
+pause awhile: 
+Here comes your uncle. 
+
+
+Re-enter WorCESTER. 
+
+
+Hot. Speak of Mortimer! 130 
+‘Zounds, I will speak of him; and let my soul 
+Want mercy, if I do not join with him: 
+Yea, on his part I'll empty all these veins, 
+And shed my dear blood drop by drop in the 
+
+dust, 
+But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer 
+As high in the air as this unthankful king, 
+As this ingrate and canker’d Bolingbroke. 
+
+North. Brother, the king hath made your 
+
+nephew mad. 
+
+Wor. Who struck this heat up after I was 
+
+gone > 
+
+Hot. He will, forsooth, have all my pri- 
+
+soners; 140 
+And when I urged the ransom once again 
+Of my wife’s brother, then his cheek look'd 
+pale, f 
+And on my face he turn’d an eye of death, 
+Trembling even at the name of Mortimer. 
+Wor. | cannot blame him: was not he pro- 
+claim’d 
+By Richard that dead is the next of blood? 
+
+-North. He was; I heard the proclamation: 
+And then it was when the unhappy king,— 
+Whose wrongs in us God pardon!—did set 
+
+forth 
+Upon his Irish expedition; 
+From whence he intercepted did return 
+To be deposed and shortly murdered. 
+
+
+150 
+
+
+Wor. And for whose death we in the 
+world’s wide mouth 
+Live scandal zed and foully spoken of. 
+Hot. But, soft, I pray you; did King 
+Richard then 
+Proclaim my brother Edmund Mortimer 
+Heir to the crown? 
+North. He did; myself did hear it. 
+Hot, Nay, then I cannot blame his cousin 
+king, 
+That wish'd him on the 
+starve. 
+But shall it be, that you, that set the crown 
+Upon the head of this forgetful man 
+And for his sake wear the detested blot 
+Of murderous subornation, shall it be, 
+That you a world of curses undergo, 
+Being the agents, or base second means, 
+The cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather? 
+O, pardon me that I descend so low, 
+To show the line and the predicament 
+Wherein you range under this subtle king; 
+Shall it for shame be spoken in these days, 
+Or fill up chronicles in time to come, 
+That men of your nobility and power 
+Did gage them both in an unjust behalf, 
+As both of you—God, pardon it!—have done, 
+To put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose, 
+And plant this thorn, this canker, Boling- 
+broke ? 
+And shall it in more shame be further spoken, 
+That you are fool'd, discarded and shook off 
+By him for whom these shames ye under- 
+went? 179 
+No; yet time serves wherein you may redeem 
+Your banish’d honours and restore yourselves 
+Into the good thoughts of the world again, 
+Revenge the jeering and disdain’d contempt 
+Of this proud king, who studies day and night 
+To answer all the debt he owes to you 
+Even with the bloody payment of your deaths: 
+Therefore, I say,— 
+W or. Peace, cousin, say no more: 
+And now I will unclasp a secret book, 
+And to your quick-conceiving discontents 
+I'll read you matter deep and dangerous, 190 
+As full of peril and adventurous spirit 
+As to o’er-walk a current roaring loud 
+On the unsteadfast footing of a spear. 
+Hot. If he fall in, good night! or sink or 
+swim: 
+Send danger from the east unto the west, 
+So honour cross it from the north to south, 
+And let them grapple: O, the blood more stirs 
+To rouse a lion than to start a hare! 
+North. Imagination of some great exploit 
+Drives him beyond the bounds of patience. 
+Hot. By heaven, methinks it were an easy 
+lean 
+
+
+barren mountains 
+
+
+476 
+
+
+FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+Mae EN Sa 
+
+
+<7 
+“Eie4 
+
+
+To pluck bright honor from the pale-faced 
+moon, 
+Or dive into the bottom of the deep, 
+Where fathom-line could never touch 
+ground, 
+And pluck up drowned honour by the locks; 
+So he that doth redeem her thence might wear 
+Without corrival all her d-gnities: 
+But out upon this half-faced fellowship! 
+Wor. He apprehends a world of figures 
+here, 
+But not the form of what he should attend. 
+Good cousin, give me audience for a while. 
+Hot. I cry you mercy. 
+
+
+the 
+
+
+Wor. Those same noble Scots 
+That are your prisoners,— 
+Hot. I'll keep them all; 
+
+
+By God, he shall not have a Scot of them; 
+No, if-a Scot would save his soul, he shall not: 
+I'll keep them, by this hand. 
+
+W or. You start away 
+And lend no ear unto my purposes. 
+
+Those prisoners you shall keep. ‘ 
+
+Hot. Nay, I will; that’s flat: 
+He said he would not ransom Mortimer; 
+Forbad my tongue to speak of Mortimer; 220 
+But I will find him when he lies asleep, 
+And in his ear I'll holla ‘Mortimer!’ 
+
+Nay, 
+
+I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak 
+Nothing but ‘Mortimer,’ and give it him, 
+To keep his anger still in motion. 
+
+Wor. Hear you, cousin; a word. 
+
+Hot. All studies here I solemnly defy, 
+Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke: 
+And that same sword-and-buckler Prince of 
+
+Wales, 230 
+But that [ think his father loves him not 
+And would be glad he met with some mis- 
+chance, 
+J would have him poison’d with a pot of ale. 
+
+Wor. Farewell, kinsman: I'll talk to you 
+When you are better temper'd to attend. 
+
+North. Why, what a wasp-stung and im- 
+
+patient fool 
+Art thow to break into this woman's mood, 
+Tying thine ear to no tongue out thine own! 
+Hot. Why, look you, I am whipp’d and 
+scourged with rods, 
+Nettled and stung with pismires, when I hear 
+Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke. 241 
+In Richard’s time,—what do you call the 
+place >— 
+A plague upon it, it is in Gloucestershire; 
+"Twas where the madcap duke his uncle kept, 
+His uncle York; where I first bow'd my 
+knee J 
+Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke,— 
+‘Sblood!— 
+
+
+When you and he came back from Ravens- 
+purgh. 
+
+North, At Berkley castle. 
+
+Hot. You say true: 
+
+Why, what a candy deal of courtesy 
+
+This fawning greyhound then did proffer me! 
+
+Look, ‘when his infant fortune came to age,’ 
+
+And ‘gentle Harry Percy,’ and “kind cousin;" 
+
+O, the devil take such cozeners! God forgive 
+me! 
+
+Good uncle, tell your tale; I have done. 
+
+Wor. Nay, if you have not, to it again; 
+We will stay your leisure. 
+
+Hot. I have done, i’ faith. 
+
+Wor. Then once more to your Scottish 
+
+prisoners, 259 
+Deliver them up without their ransom straight, 
+And make the Douglas’ son your only mean 
+For powers in Scotland; which, for divers 
+
+reasons 
+
+Which I shall send you written, be assured, 
+Will easily be granted. You, my lord, 
+
+[To Northumberland, 
+Your son in Scotland being thus employ’d, 
+Shall secretly into the bosom creep 
+Of that same noble prelate, well beloved, 
+The archbishop. 
+
+Hot. Of York, is it not? 
+
+Wor. True; who bears hard 270 
+His brother: sdéathiat Bristol, the Lord Scroop. 
+I speak not this in estimation, 
+
+As what I think might be, but what I chewy 
+Is rumiated, plotted and set down, 
+
+And only stays but to behold the face 
+
+Of that occasion that shall bring it on. 
+
+
+250 
+
+
+Hoi. 1 smell it: upon my life, it will do 
+well. 
+
+North. Before the game is afoot, thou still 
+let’st slip. 
+
+Hot. Why, it cannot chose but be a noble 
+plot: 
+
+
+And then the power of Scotland and York, 
+To join with Mortimer, ha? 
+
+
+Wor. And so they shall. 
+
+Hot. In faith, it is exceedingly well aim’d. 
+
+Wor. And ‘tis no little reason bids us 
+speed, 
+
+
+To save our heads by raising of a head; 
+For, bear ourselves as even as we can, 
+The king will always think him in our debt, 
+And think we think ourselves unsatisfied, 
+Till he hath found a time to pay us home: 
+And see already how he doth begin 
+
+
+To make us strangers to his looks of love. 290 
+
+Hot. He does, he does: we ‘ll be revenged 
+on him. 
+
+Wor. Cousin, farewell: no further go in 
+
+
+this 
+Than I by letters shall direct your course. 
+
+
+[Acr I, Se. Ill 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+Aer Il, Se. TH] 
+
+
+\ 
+\ 
+
+
+_ pannier are quite starved. What, osiler! 
+
+
+he 0 ie , 
+ay : ; 
+FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY IV 477 
+
+
+a eeoeseoseoeoeoaowNNN_N_____ 
+
+
+When time is ripe, which will be suddenly, 
+
+I ‘ll steal to Glendower and Lord Mortimer; 
+
+Where you and Douglas and our powers at 
+once, y 
+
+
+- As I will fashion it, shall happily meet, 
+
+
+To bear our fortunes in our own strong arms, 
+Which now we hold at much uncertainty. 
+North. Farewell, good brother: we shall 
+thrive, I trust. 300 
+Hot. Uncle, adieu: O, let the hours be 
+
+
+short , 
+Till fields and blows and groans applaud our 
+sport! Exeunt. 
+ACT II. 
+Scene I. Rochester. An inn yard. 
+
+
+Enter a Carrier with a lantern in his hand. 
+
+
+First Car. Heigh-ho! an it be not four by 
+the day, I "Il be hanged: Charles’ wain is over 
+the new chimney, and yet our horse not 
+
+
+‘packed. What, ostler! 
+
+
+Ost. [Within] Anon, anon. 
+
+First Car. I prithee Tom, beat Cut’s sad- 
+dle, put a few flocks in the point; poor jade, 
+is wrung in the withers out of all cess. 
+
+
+Enter another Carrier. 
+
+
+Sec. Car. Peas and beans are as dank here 
+as a dog, and that is the next way to give 
+poor jades the bots: this house is turned 
+upside down since Robin Ostler died. 
+
+First Car. Poor fellow, never joyed since 
+the price of oats rose; it was the death of him. 
+
+Sec. Car. I think this is the most villan- 
+ous house in all London road for fleas: I am 
+stung like a tench. 
+
+' First Car. Like a tench! by the mass, there 
+is ne'er a king christen could be better bit than 
+I have been since the first cock. 20 
+
+Sec. Car, Why, they will allow us ne’er a 
+jordan, and then we leak in your chimney; 
+and your chamber-lie breeds fleas like a loach. 
+
+First Car. What, ostler! come away and 
+be hanged! come away. 
+
+Sec. Car. I] have a gammon of bacon and 
+two razes of ginger, to be delivered as far as 
+
+
+_ Charing-cross. 
+
+
+First Car. God's body! the turkeys in my 
+A 
+plague on thee! hast thou never an eye in thy 
+head? canst not hear? An ’twere not as good 
+deed as drink, t> break the pate on thee, I am 
+a very’ villain. Come, and be hanged! hast 
+no faith in thee? 
+
+
+Enter GaDSHILL. 
+Gads. Good | morrow, 
+
+
+What ‘< 
+o'clock ? 
+
+
+First Car. I think it be two o'clock, 
+
+
+carriers. 
+
+
+Gads. | prithee, lend me thy lantern, to 
+see my gelding in the stable. 
+
+First Car. Nay, by God, soft; I know a 
+trick worth two of that, i’ faith, 4\ 
+
+Gads. I pray thee, lend me thine. 
+
+Sec. Car. Ay, when? canst tell? Lend me 
+thy lantern, quoth he? marry, I'll see thee 
+hanged first. 
+
+Gads. S.rrah carrier, what time do you 
+mean to come to London? 
+
+Sec. Car. Time enough to go to bed with 
+a candle, I warrant thee. Come, neighbour 
+Mugs, we ‘ll call up the gentlemen: they will 
+along with company, for they have great 
+charge. [Exeunt Carriers, 
+
+Gads. What, ho! chamberlain! 
+
+Cham. [Within] At hand, quoth pick- 
+purse. 
+
+Gads. That’s even as fair as—at hand, 
+quoth the chamberlain; for thou variest no 
+more from picking of purses than giving direc- 
+a doth from labouring; thou layest the plot 
+ow. 
+
+
+Enter Chamberlain. 
+
+
+Cham. Good morrow, Master Gadshill. It 
+holds current that I told you yesternight: 
+there’s a franklin in the wild of Kent hath 
+brought three hundred marks with him ‘n 
+gold: I heard him tell it to one of his com- 
+
+
+pany last night at supper; a kind of auditor; 
+one that hath abundance of charge too, God 
+knows what. They are up already, and call 
+for eggs and butter: they will away presently. 
+
+Gads. Sirrah, if they meet not with Saint 
+Nicholas’ clerks, I ‘ll give thee this neck. 69 
+
+Cham. No, I'll none of it: I pray thee, 
+keep that for the hangman; for I know thou 
+worshippest Saint Nicholas as truly as a man 
+of falsehood may. 
+
+Gads. What talkest thou to me of the 
+hangman? if I hang, I'll make a fat pair of 
+gallows; for if I hang, old Sir John hangs 
+with me, and thou knowest he is no starveling. 
+Tut! there are other Trojans that thou 
+dreamest not of, the which for sport sake are 
+content to do the profession some grace; that 
+would, if matters should be looked into, for 
+their own credit sake, make all whole. [I am 
+joined with no foot land-rakers, no long-staff 
+sixpenny strikers, none of these mad mustachio 
+purple-hued malt-worms; but with nobility 
+and tranquillity, burgomasters and great oney- 
+ers, such as can hold in, such as will strike 
+|sooner than speak, and speak sooner than 
+‘drink, and drink sooner than pray: and yet, 
+_ zounds, I lie; for they pray continually to 
+their saint, the commonwealth; or rather, not 
+pray to her, but prey on her, for they ride up 
+
+
+478 FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY IV {Acr II, Se. Il 
+
+
+and down on her and make her their boots. 
+
+Cham. What, the commonwealth their 
+boots? will she hold out water in foul way > 
+
+Gads. She will, she will; justice hath 
+liquored her. We steal as in a castle, cock- 
+sure; we have the receipt of fern-seed, we 
+walk invisible. 
+
+Cham. Nay, by my faith, I think you are 
+more beholding to the n ght than to fern-seed 
+for your walking invisible. 
+
+Gads. Give me thy hand: thou shalt have 
+a share in our purchase, as | am a true man. 
+
+Cham. Nay, rather let me have it, as you 
+are a false thief. 
+
+Gads. Go to; ‘homo’ is a common name 
+
+
+to all men. Bid the ostler bring my gelding 
+
+out of the stable. Farewell, you muddy 
+
+Knave. [Exeunt. 
+Scene II. The highway, near Gadshill. 
+
+
+Enter Prince Henry and Poins. 
+
+
+Poins. Come, shelter, shelter: I have re- 
+moved Falstaff's horse, and he frets like a 
+gummed velvet. 
+
+Prince. Stand close. 
+
+
+Enter FALSTAFF. 
+Fal. Poins! Poins, and be hanged! Poins! 
+
+
+Prince. Peace, ye fat-kidneyed rascal! 
+what a brawling dost thou keep! 
+
+Fal. Where’s Poins, Hal? 
+
+Prince. He is walked up’ to the top of the 
+hill: I'll go seek him. 9 
+
+Fal. 1 am accursed to rob in that thief’s 
+company: the rascal hath removed my horse, 
+and tied him | know not where. If I travel 
+but four foot by the squier further afoot, I 
+shall break my wind. Well, 1 doubt not but 
+to die a fair death for all this, if I ‘scape 
+hanging for killing that rogue. I have forsworn 
+his company hourly any time this two and 
+twenty years, and yet I am bewitched with the 
+rogue’s company. If the rascal have not given 
+me medicines to make me love him, I'll be 
+hanged; it could not be else; I have drunk 
+medicines. Poins! Hal! a plague upon you 
+both! Bardolph! Peto! Ill starve ere I'll 
+rob a foot further. An ‘twere not as good a 
+deed as drink, to turn true man and to leave 
+these rogues, I am the veriest varlet that ever 
+chewed with a tooth. Eight yards of uneven 
+ground is threescore and ten miles afoot with 
+me; and the stony-hearted villains know it 
+well enough: a plague upon it when thieves 
+cannot be true one to another! [They whisile.] 
+Whew! A plague upon you all! Give me my 
+horse, you rogues; give me my horse, and be 
+hanged! 
+
+Prince. Peace, ye fat-guts! lie down; lay 
+
+
+thine ear close to the ground and list if thou 
+canst hear the tread of travellers. 
+
+Fal, Have you any levers to lift me up 
+again, being down? ‘Sblood, I'll not bear 
+mine own flesh so far afoot again for all the 
+coin in thy, father’s exchequer. What a plague 
+mean ye to colt me thus? 40 
+
+Prince. Thou liest; thou art not colted, 
+thou art uncolted. 
+
+Fal. I prithee, good Prince Hal, help me 
+to my horse, good king’s son. 
+
+Prince. Out, ye rogue! shall I*be your 
+ostler ? 
+
+Fal. Go hang thyself in thine own heir- 
+apparent garters! If I be ta’en, I ‘Il peach for 
+this. An I have not ballads made on you all 
+and sung to filthy tunes, let a cup of sack be 
+my poison: when a jest is so forward, and 
+afoot too! I hate it. 
+
+
+Enter GapsHILL, BARDOLPH and PETO 
+with him. 
+
+
+Gads. Stand. 
+
+Fal. So | do, aga‘nst my will. 
+
+Poins. O, ‘tis our setter: | know his voice. 
+Bardolph, what news? 
+
+Bard. Case ye, case ye; on with your viz- 
+ards: there’s money of the king’s coming 
+down the hill; ‘tis going to the king's ex- 
+chequer. 
+
+Fal. You lie, ye rogue; ‘tis going to the 
+king’s tavern. 
+
+Gads. There's enough to make us all. 60 
+
+Fal. To be hanged. 
+
+Prince. Sirs, you four shall front them in 
+the narrow lane;~"Ned Poins and I will walk 
+lower: if they ‘scape from your encounter, 
+then they light on us. 
+
+Peto. How many be there of them? 
+
+Gads. Some eight or ten. 
+
+Fal. 'Zounds, will they not rob us? 
+
+
+Prince. What, a coward, Sir John 
+Paunch >? 
+Fal. Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, 
+
+
+your grandfather; but yet no coward, Hal. 
+Prince. Well, we leave that to the proof. 
+Poins. Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind 
+the hedge: when thou needest him, there thou 
+shalt find him. Farewell, and stand fast. 
+Fal. Now cannot I strike him, if I should 
+be hanged. 
+Prince. Ned, where are our disguises? 
+Poins. Here, hard by: stand close. 
+[Exeunt Prince and Poins. 
+Fal. Now, my masters, happy man be his 
+dole, say I: every man to his business. 
+
+
+Enter the Travellers. 
+First Trav. Come, neighbour: the boy shall 
+
+
+Act Il, Sc. Ill] FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY IV 475 
+
+
+lead our horses down the hill; we'll walk 
+afoot awhile, and ease our legs. 
+
+Thieves. Stand! 
+
+Travellers. Jesus bless us! 
+
+Fal. Strike; down with them; cut the 
+villains’ throats: ah! whoreson caterpillars! 
+bacon-fed knaves! they hate us youth: down 
+with them; fleece them. 90 
+
+Travellers. O, we are undone, both we 
+and ours forever! 
+
+Fal. Hang ye, gorbellied knaves, are ye 
+undone? No, ye fat chuffs; I would your 
+store were here! On, bacons, on! What, ye 
+knaves!_ young men must live. You are 
+grand-jurors, are ye? we'll jure ye, ‘faith. 
+[Here they rob them and bind them. Exeunt. 
+
+Re-enter Prince Henry and Poins. 
+
+
+Prince. The thieves have bound the true 
+men. Now could thou and I rob the thieves 
+and, go merrily to London, it would be argu- 
+‘ment for a week, laughter for a month and 
+a good jest for ever. 
+
+Poin. Stand close; I hear them coming. 
+
+
+Enter the Thieves again. 
+
+
+Fal. Come, my masters, let us share, and 
+then to horse before day. An the Prince and 
+Poins be not two arrant cowards, there's no 
+equity stirring: there’s no more valour in that 
+Poins than in a wild-duck. 
+
+Prince. Your money! 
+
+Poins. Villains! 110 
+
+[As they are sharing, the Prince and 
+Poins set upon them; they all run 
+away; and Falstaff, after a blow 
+or two, runs away too, leaving 
+the booty behind them.] 
+
+
+Prince, Got with much ease. Now merrily 
+
+
+to horse: 
+
+The thieves are all scatter’d and possess’d 
+with fear 
+
+So strongly that they dare not meet each 
+other; 
+
+
+Each takes his fellow for an officer. 
+
+Away, good Ned. Falstaff sweats to death, 
+
+And lards the lean earth as he walks along: 
+
+Were 't not for laughing, I should pity him. 
+Poins. How the rogue roar’d! [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. Warkworth castle. 
+
+Enter Hotspur, solus, reading a letter. 
+
+Hot. ‘But, for mine own part, my lord, 
+1 could be well contented to be there, in re- 
+spect of the love I bear your house.’ He could 
+be contented: why is he not, then? In re- 
+spect of the love he bears our house: he shows 
+in this, he loves his own barn better than he 
+loves our house. Let me see some more. “The 
+purpose you undertake is dangerous;’—why, 
+
+
+that’s certain: "tis dangerous to take a cold, 
+to sleep, to drink; but I tell you, my lord 
+fool, out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this 
+flower, safety. “The purpose you undertake 
+is dangerous; the friends you have named un- 
+certain; ‘he time itself unsorted; and your 
+whole plot too light for the counterpoise of 
+so great an opposition.’ Say you so, say you 
+so? I say unto you again, you are a shallow 
+cowardly hind, and you lie. What a lack- 
+brain is this! By the Lord, our plot is a good 
+plot as ever was laid; our friends true and 
+constant: a good plot, good friends, and full 
+of expectation; an excellent plot, very good 
+friends. What a frosty-spirited rogue is this! 
+Why, my lord of York commends the plot 
+and the general course of the action. *Zounds, 
+an I were now by this rascal, I could brain 
+him with his lady’s fan. Is there not my 
+father, my uncle and myself? lord Edmund 
+Mortimer, my lord of York and Owen Glen- 
+dower? is there not besides the Douglas? have 
+I not all their letters to meet me in arms by 
+the ninth of the next month? and are they not 
+some of them set forward already? What a 
+pagan rascal is this! an infidel! Ha! you 
+shall see now in very sincerity of fear and 
+cold heart, will he to the king and lay open 
+all our proceedings. O, I could divide my- 
+self and go to buffets, for moving such a dish 
+of skim milk with so honourable an action! 
+Hang him! let him tell the king: we are pre- 
+pared. I will set forward to-night. 
+
+
+Enter Lapy Percy. 
+
+
+How now, Kate! I must leave you within 
+
+these two hours. 
+Lady. O, my good lord, why are you thus 
+
+alone? 4G 
+
+For what offence have I this fortnight been 
+
+A banish’d woman from my Harry's bed? 
+
+Tell me, sweet lord, what ist that takes from 
+thee 
+
+Thy stomach, pleasure and thy golden sleep? 
+
+Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the 
+earth, 
+
+And start so often when thou sit’st alone? 
+
+Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy 
+cheeks; 
+
+And given my treasures and my rights of thee 
+
+To thick-eyed musing and cursed melancholy ? 
+
+In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watch’d, 
+
+And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars; 
+
+Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed; 
+
+Cry ‘Courage! to the field!’ And thou hast 
+talk’d 
+
+Of sallies and retires, of trenches, tents, 
+
+Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets, 
+
+
+| Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin, 
+
+
+480 FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+Of prisoners’ ransom and of soldiers slain, 
+
+And all the currents of a heady fight. 
+
+The spirit within thee hath been so at war 
+
+And thus hast so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep, 
+
+That beads of sweat have stood upon thy 
+brow, 
+
+Like bubbles in a late-disturbed stream; 
+
+And in thy face strong motions have appear’d, 
+
+Such as we see when men restrain their breath 
+
+On some great sudden hest. O, what portents 
+are these? 
+
+Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, 
+
+And I must know it, else he loves me not. 
+
+
+Hot. What, ho! 
+Enter Servant. 
+
+
+Is Gilliams with the packet gone? 
+
+Serv. He is, my lord, an hour ago. 
+
+Hot. Hath Butler brought those horses 
+
+from the sheriff > 70 
+
+Serv. One horse, my lord, he brought even 
+
+now. 
+
+Hot. What horse? a roan, a crop-ear, is it 
+
+not? 
+
+Serv. It is, my lord. 
+
+Hot. That roan shall be my throne. 
+Well, I will back him straight: O esperance! 
+Bid Butler lead him forth into the park. 
+
+[Exit Servant. 
+
+
+Lady. But hear you, my lord. 
+
+Hot. What say’st thou, my lady? 
+
+Lady. What is it carries you away? 
+Hot. Why, my horse, my love, my horse. 
+Lady. Out, you mad-headed ape. 80 
+
+
+A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen 
+As you are toss’'d with. ‘In faith, 
+
+I'll know your business, Harry, that I will. 
+I fear my brother Mortimer doth stir 
+About his title, and hath sent for you 
+
+To line his enterprize: but if you go,— 
+
+
+Hot, So far afoot, I shall be weary, love. 
+Lady. Come, come, you paraquito, answer 
+me 
+
+
+Directly unto this question that I ask: 
+In faith, Ill break thy little finger, Harry, 90 
+An if thou wilt not tell me all things true. 
+Hot. Away, 
+Away, you trifler! Love! I love thee not, 
+I care not for thee, Kate: this is no world 
+To play with mammets and to tilt with lips: 
+We must have bloody noses and crack’d 
+crowns, 
+And pass them current too. 
+horse! 
+What say’st thou, Kate? what would’st thou 
+have with me? 
+Lady. Do you not love me? do you not, 
+indeed > 
+Well, do not then; for since you love me not, 
+
+
+God’s me, my 
+
+
+KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+I will not love myself. Do you not love me? 
+‘Nay, tell me if you speak in jest or no. 
+Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride? 
+And when I am o’ horseback, I will swear 
+I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate; 
+I must not have you henceforth question me 
+Whither I go, nor reason whereabout: 
+Whither I must, I must; and, to conclude, 
+This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate. 
+I know you wise, but yet no farther wise 110 
+Than Harry Percy's w fe: constant you are, 
+But yet a woman: and for secrecy, 
+No lady closer; for I well believe 
+Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know; 
+And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate. 
+Lady. How! so far? 
+Hot. Not an inch further. But hark you, 
+Kate: 
+Whither I go, thither shall you go too; 
+
+
+To-day will I set forth, to-morrow you, 119 
+Will this content you, Kate? 
+Lady. It must of force. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene IV. The Boar's-Head Tavern, 
+Eastcheap. 
+
+
+Enter the Prince, and Poins. 
+
+
+Prince. Ned, prithee, come out of that fat 
+room, and lend me thy hand to laugh a little. 
+
+Poins. Where hast been, Hal? 
+
+Prince. With three or four loggerheads 
+amongst three or four score hogsheads. I 
+have sounded the very base-string of humility. 
+Sirrah, I am sworn brother to a leash of 
+drawers; and can call them all by their 
+christian names“as Tom, Dick, and Francis. 
+They take it already upon their salvation, 
+that though I be but Prince of Wales, yet I 
+am the king of courtesy; and tell me flatly I 
+am no proud Jack, like Falstaff, but a Corinth- 
+ian, a lad of mettle, a good boy, by the Lord, 
+so they call me, and when I am king of Eng- 
+land, I shall command all the good lads in 
+Eastcheap. They call drinking deep, dyeing 
+scarlet; and when you breathe in your water- 
+ing, they cry “hem!” and bid you play it off. 
+To conclude, I am so good a proficient in one 
+quarter of an hour, that I can drink with any 
+tinker in his own language during my life. I 
+tell thee, Ned, thou hast lost much honour, 
+that thou wert not with me in this action, 
+But, sweet Ned,—to sweeten which name of 
+Ned, I give thee this pennyworth of sugar, 
+clapped even now into my hand by an under- 
+skinker, one that never spake other English in 
+his life than “Eight shillines and sixpence,’ 
+and “You are welcome,’ with this shrill addi- 
+tion, ‘Anon, anon, sir! Score a pint of bas- 
+
+
+9 | tard in the Half-moon,” or so. But, Ned, to 
+
+
+drive away the time till Falstaff come, I 
+
+
+[Act H], Se. 1V 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+¥ 
+
+
+Acr FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY IV 481 
+
+
+prithee, do thou stand in some by-room, while 
+I question my puny drawer to what end he 
+gave me the sugar; and do thou never leave 
+calling ‘Francis,’ that his tale to me may be 
+nothing but ‘Anon.’ Step aside, and I'll 
+show thee a precedent. 
+
+Poins, Francis! 
+
+Prince. Thou art perfect. 
+
+Poins. Francis! 
+
+
+39 
+[Exit Poins. 
+Enter FRANCIS. 
+Fran. Anon, anon, sir. Look down into 
+the Pomgarnet, Ralph. 
+
+Prince. Come hither, Francis. 
+
+Fran, My lord? 
+
+Prince. How long hast thou to serve, 
+Francis? 
+
+Fran. Forsooth, five years, and as much 
+as to— 
+
+Poins. [Within] Francis! 
+
+Fran. Anon, anon, sir. 49 
+
+Prince. Five year! by ’r lady, a long lease 
+for the clinking of pewter. But, Francis, 
+darest thou be so valiant as to play the coward 
+with thy indenture and show it a fair pair 
+of heels and run from it? 
+
+Fran. O Lord, sir, 1 ll be sworn upon all 
+the books in England, I could find it in my 
+heart. 
+
+Poins. [Within] Francis! 
+
+Fran. Anon, sir. 
+
+Prince. How old art thou, Francis? 
+
+Fran. Let me see—about Michaelmas next 
+IT shall be— 61 
+
+Poins. [Within] Francis! 
+
+Fran. Anon, sir. Pray stay a little, my 
+lord. 
+
+Prince. Nay, but hark you, Francis: for 
+the sugar thou gavest me, ‘twas a pennyworth, 
+was 't not? 
+
+Fran. O Lord, I would it had been two! 
+
+Prince. 1 will give thee for it a thousand 
+pound: ask me when thou wilt, and thou shalt 
+have it.’ 
+
+Poins. [Within] Francis! 
+
+Fran. Anon, anon. 
+
+Prince. Anon, Francis? No, Francis; but 
+to-morrow, Francis; or Francis, o’ Thursday; 
+or indeed, Francis, when thou wilt. But, 
+Francis! 
+
+Fran. My lord? 
+
+Prince. Wilt thou rob this leathern jerkin, 
+crystal=button, not-pated, agate-ring, puke- 
+stocking, caddis-garter, smooth-tongue, Span- 
+ish-pouch,— 
+
+Fran. O Lord, sir, what do you mean? 
+
+Prince. Why, then, your brown bastard is 
+your only drink; for look you, Francis, your 
+
+
+white canvas doublet will sully: in Barbary, 
+sir, it cannot come to so much, 
+
+Fran. What, sir? 
+
+Poins. [Within] Francis! 
+
+Prince. Away, you rogue! dost thou not 
+hear them call? 
+
+[Here they both call him; the drawer stands 
+
+amazed, not knowing which way to go. 
+
+
+Enter Vintner. 
+
+
+Vint. What, standest thou still, and hear- 
+est such a calling> Look to the guests within. 
+[Exit Francis.] My lord, old Sir John, with 
+half-a-dozen more, are at the door: shall I let 
+them in? 
+
+Prince. Let them alone awhile, and then 
+open the door. [Exit Vininer.| Poins! 
+
+
+Re-enter Poins. 
+
+
+Poins. Anon, anon, sir. 
+
+Prince. Sirrah, Falstaff and the rest of the 
+thieves are at the door: shall we be merry? 
+
+Poins. As merry as crickets, my lad. But 
+hark ye; what cunning match have you made 
+with this jest of the drawer? come, what’s 
+the issue > 
+
+Prince. 1 am now of all humours that have 
+showed themselves humours since the old 
+days of goodman Adam to the pupil age of 
+this present twelve o'clock at midnight. 
+
+
+Re-enter FRANCIS. 
+What's o'clock, Francis > 
+
+
+Fran. Anon, anon, sir. [Exit. 
+
+Prince. That ever this fellow should have 
+fewer words than a parrot, and yet the son of 
+a woman! His industry is up-stairs and 
+down-stairs; his eloquence the parcel of reck- 
+oning. I am not yet of Percy’s mind, the 
+Hotspur of the north; he that kills me some 
+six or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, 
+washes his hands, and says to his wife ‘Fie 
+upon this quiet life! I want work. ‘O my 
+sweet Harry,’ says she, “how many hast thou 
+killed to-day?’ ‘Give my roan horse a 
+drench,’ says he; and answers “Some four- 
+teen,’ an hour after; ‘a trifle, a trifle.” I 
+prithee, call in Falstaff: Ill play Percy, and 
+that damned brawn shall play Dame Morti- 
+mer his wife. ‘Rivo!’ says the drunkard. 
+Call in-ribs, call in tallow. 
+
+
+Enter FaLsTAFF, GADSHILL, BARDOLPH, and 
+Peto; Francis following with wine. 
+Poins. Welcome, Jack: where hast thou 
+
+been? 
+
+Fal. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a 
+vengeance too! marry, and amen! Give me 
+a cup of sack, boy. Ere I lead this life long, 
+I'll sew nether stocks and mend them and 
+foot them tor. A plague of all cowards! 
+
+
+482 
+
+
+FIRS! PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+[Acr II, Sc. IV 
+
+
+Give me a cup of sack, rogue. Is there no 
+virtue extant? [He drinks. 
+
+Prince. Didst thou never see Titan kiss a 
+dish of butter? pitiful-hearted Titan, that 
+melted at the sweet tale of the sun’s! if thou 
+didst, then behold that compound. 
+
+Fal. You rogue, here's lime in this sack 
+too: there is nothing but roguery to be found 
+in villanous man: yet a coward is worse than 
+a cup of sack with lime in it. A villanous 
+coward! Go thy ways, old Jack; die when 
+thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood, be not 
+forgot upon the face of the earth, then am I 
+a shotten herring. There live not three good 
+men unhanged in England; and one of them 
+is fat and grows old: God help the while! a 
+bad world, I say. I would I were a weaver; 
+I could sing psalms or any thing. A plague 
+of all cowards, I say still. 
+
+Prince. How now, wool-sack! what’ mut- 
+ter you? 
+
+Fal. A king’s son. If I do not beat thee 
+out of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath, and 
+drive all thy subjects afore thee like a flock of 
+wild-geese, I ‘Il never wear hair on my face 
+more. You Prince of Wales! 
+
+Prince. Why, you whoreson round man, 
+what's the matter > 
+
+Fal. Are not you a coward? answer me 
+to that: and Poins there? 
+
+Foins. ‘Zounds, ye fat paunch, an ye call 
+me coward, by the Lord, I'll stab thee. 160 
+
+Fal. I call thee coward! I'll see thee 
+damned ere I call thee coward: but I would 
+give a thousand pound I could run as fast as 
+thou canst. You are straight enough in the 
+shoulders, you care not who sees your back: 
+call you that backing of your friends? A 
+plague upon such backing! give me them that 
+will face me. Give me a cup of sack: I am 
+a rogue, if I drunk to-day. 
+
+Prince. O villain! thy lips are scarce wiped 
+since thou drunkest last. 171 
+
+Fal. All’s one for that. [He drinks.] 
+A plague of all cowards, still say I. 
+
+Prince. What's the matter? 
+
+Fal, What's the matter! there be four of 
+us here have ta’en a thousand pound this day 
+morning. 
+
+Prince. Where is it, Jack? where is it? 
+
+Fal. Where is it! taken from us it is: a 
+hundred upon poor four of us. 180 
+
+Prince What, a hundred, man? 
+
+Fal. I am a rogue, if I were not at half- 
+sword with a dozen of them two hours to- 
+gether. I have 'scaped by miracle. I am eight 
+times thrust through the doublet, four through 
+the hose; my buckler cut through and through; 
+my sword hacked like a hand-saw—ecce sig- 
+
+
+num! J never dealt better since I was a man: 
+all would not do. A plague of all cowards! 
+Let them speak: if they speak more or less 
+than truth, they are villains and the sons of 
+darkness. 191 
+
+Prince. Speak, sirs; how was it? 
+
+Gads. We four set upon some dozen— 
+
+Fal. Sixteen at least, my lord. 
+
+Gads. And bound them. 
+
+Peto. No, no, they were not bound. 
+
+Fal. You rogue, they were bound, every 
+man of them; or I am a Jew else, an Ebrew 
+Jew. 
+
+Gads. As we were sharing, some six or 
+seven fresh men set upon us— 200 
+
+Fal. And unbound the rest, and then come 
+in the other. 
+
+Prince. What, fought you with them all? 
+
+Fal. All! I know not what you call all; 
+but if I fought not with fify of them, I am a 
+bunch of radish: if there were not two or 
+three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then am I| 
+no two-legged creature. 
+
+Prince. Pray God you have not murdered 
+some of them. 210 
+
+Fal, Nay, that’s past praying for: I have 
+peppered two of them; two I am sure I have 
+paid, two rogues in buckram suits. I tell thee 
+what, Hal, if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, 
+call me horse. Thou knowest my old ward; 
+here I lay, and thus I bore my point. Four 
+rogues in buckram let drive at me— 
+
+Prince. What, four? thou saidst but two 
+even now. 
+
+Fal, Four, Hal; I told thee four. 220 
+
+Poins. Ay, ay, he said four, 
+
+Fal. These four came all a-front, and 
+mainly thrust at me. I made me no more 
+ado but took all their seven points in my 
+target, thus. 
+
+Prince. Seven? why, there were but four 
+even now. 
+
+Fal. In buckram? 
+
+Poins. Ay, four, in buckram. suits. 
+
+Fal. Seven, by these hilts, or I am a vil- 
+lain else. 230 
+
+Prince. Prithee, let him alone; we shall 
+have more anon. 
+
+Fal. Dost thou hear me, Hal? 
+
+Prince. Ay, and mark thee too, Jack. 
+
+Fal. Do so, for it is worth the listening 
+to. These nine in buckram that I told thee 
+of— 5 
+
+Prince. So, two more already. 
+
+Fal. Their points being broken,— 
+
+Poins. Down fell their hose. 239 
+
+Fal. Began to give me ground: but I fol- 
+lowed me close, came in foot and hand; and 
+with a thought seven of the eleven I paid. 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+/ 
+
+
+Act Il, Sc. IV)“ FIRS’ PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY IV 583; 
+
+
+_ Prince. O monstrous! eleven buckram men 
+grown out of two! 
+
+Fal. But, as the devil would have it, three 
+misbegotten knaves in Kendal green came at 
+my back and let drive at me; for it was so 
+dark, Hal, that thou couldst not see thy hand. 
+
+Prince. These lies are like their father that 
+begets them; gross as a mountain, open, pal- 
+pable. Why, thou clay-brained guts, thou 
+knotty-pated fool, thou whoreson, obscene, 
+greasy tallow-catch,— 
+
+Fal. What, art thou mad? art thou mad? 
+is not the truth the truth? 
+
+Prince. Why, how couldst thou know these 
+men in Kendal green, when it was so dark 
+thou couldst not see thy hand? come, tell us 
+
+
+your reason: what sayest thou to this? 259 
+Poins. Come, your reason, Jack, your 
+_ reason. 
+Fal. What, upon compulsion? ‘Zounds, an 
+
+
+I were at the strappado, or all the racks in the 
+
+
+“world, I would not tell you on compulsion. 
+Give you a reason on compulsion! if reasons 
+
+
+were as plentiful as blackberries, I would 
+give no man a reason upon compulsion, I. 
+
+Prince. I'll be no longer guilty of this sin; 
+this sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this 
+horseback-breaker, this huge hill of flesh,— 
+
+Fal. ’Sblood, you starveling, you elf-skin, 
+you dried neat’s tongue, you bull’s pizzle, you 
+stock-fish! O for breath to utter what is like 
+thee! you tailor’s-yard, you sheath, you bow- 
+case, you vile standing-tuck,— 
+
+Prince. Well, breathe awhile, and then to 
+it again: and when thou hast tired thyself in 
+base comparisons, hear me speak but this. 
+
+Poins. Mark, Jack. 
+
+\ Prince. We two saw you four set on four 
+and bound them, and were masters of their 
+wealth. Mark now, how a plain tale shall put 
+you down. Then did we two set on you four; 
+and, with a word, out-faced you from your 
+prize, and have it; yea, and can show it you 
+here in the house: and, Falstaff, you carried 
+your guts away as nimbly, with as quick dex- 
+terity, and roared for mercy and still run and 
+roared, as ever I heard bull-calf. What. a 
+slave art thou, to hack thy sword as thou hast 
+done, and then say it was in fight! What 
+trick, what device, what starting-hole, canst 
+thou now find out to hide thee from this open 
+and apparent shame? 
+
+Poins. Come, let's hear, Jack; what trick 
+hast thou now? 
+
+Fal. By the Lord, I knew ye as well as he 
+that made ye. Why, hear you, my masters: 
+was it for me to kill the heir-apparent? should 
+I turn upon the true prince? why, thou know- 
+est I am as valiant as Hercules: but beware 
+
+
+instinct; the lion will not touch the true prince. 
+Instinct is a great matter; I was now a coward 
+on instinct. I shall think the better of myseiz 
+and thee during my life; I for a valiant lon, 
+and thou for a true prince But, by the Lord, 
+lads, I am glad you have the money. Hostess. 
+clap to the doors: watch to-night, pray to-mor- 
+row. Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold. al! 
+the titles of good fellowship come to you! 
+What, shall we be merry? ahall we have a 
+play extempore? 
+Prince. Content; 
+be thy running away, 
+Fal. Ah, no more of that, 
+
+
+lovest me! 
+
+
+and _ the Heap tat shaJl 
+Bhi 
+an thou 
+
+
+Hal, 
+
+
+Enter Hostess. 
+
+
+Host; O Jesu, my lord the prince! 
+
+Prince. How now, my lady the hostess! 
+what sayest thou to me? 
+
+Host. Marry, my lord, there is a nobie- 
+man of the court at door would speak with 
+you: he says he comes from your father. 319 
+
+Prince. Give him as much as will mabe 
+him a royal man, and send him back again to 
+my mother. 
+
+Fal. What manner of man is he? 
+
+Host. An old man. 
+
+Fal, What doth gravity out of his bed at 
+midnight? Shall I give him his answer ? 
+
+Prince. Prithee, do, Jack. 
+
+Fal. "Faith, and I'll send him packing. 
+
+[Exrt. 
+
+Prince. Now, sirs: by 'r lady, you fought 
+fair; so did you, Peto; so did you, Bardolph: 
+you are lions too, you ran away upon instinct, 
+you will not touch the true prince; no, fie! 
+
+Bard. ‘Faith, I ran when I saw others run. 
+
+Prince. "Faith, tell me now in_ earnest, 
+how came Falstaff’s sword so hacked? 
+
+Peto. Why, he hacked it with his dagger, 
+and said he would swear truth out of England 
+but he would make you believe it was done in 
+fight, and persuaded us to do the like. 339 
+
+Bard. Yea, and to tickle our noses with 
+spear-grass to make them bleed, and then to 
+beslubber our garments with it and swear it 
+was the blood of true men. I did that I did 
+not this seven year be‘ore, I blushed fo hear 
+his monstrous devices. F 
+
+Prince. O villain, thou stolest a cup of 
+sack eighteen years ago, and wert taken with 
+the manner, and ever since thou hast blushed 
+extempore. Thou hadst fire and sword on 
+thy side, and yet thou rannest away: what 
+instinct hadst thou for it? 350 
+
+Bard. My lord, do you see these meteors > 
+
+
+do you behold these exhalations? 
+Prince. | do. 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+464 FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+Bard. What think you they portend? 
+Prince. Hot livers and cold purses. 
+Bard. Choler, my lord, if rightly taken. 
+Prince. No, if rightly taken, halter. 
+
+
+Re-enter FALSTAFF. 
+
+
+Here comes lean Jack, here comes bare-bone. 
+How now, my sweet creature of bombast! 
+How long is’t ago, Jack, since thou sawest 
+thine own knee? 361 
+
+Fal. My own knee! when I was about thy 
+years, Hal, I was not an eagle’s talon in the 
+waist; I could have crept into any alderman’s 
+thumb-ring: a plague of sighing and grief! it 
+blows a man up like a bladder. There’s vil- 
+lanous news abroad: here was Sir John Bracy 
+from your father; you must to the court in the 
+morning. That same mad fellow of the north, 
+Percy, and he of Wales, that gave Amamon 
+the bastinado and made Lucifer cuckold and 
+swore the devil his true liegeman upon the 
+cross of a Welsh hook—what a plague call 
+you him? 
+
+Poins. O, Glendower. 
+
+Fal. Owen, Owen, the same; and his son- 
+in-law Mortimer; and old Northumberland, 
+and that ‘sprightly Scot of Scots, Douglas, 
+that runs o’ horseback up a hill perpen- 
+dicular,— 
+
+Prince. He that rides at’ high speed and 
+with his pistol kills a sparrow flying. 380 
+
+Fal. You have hit it. 
+
+Prince. So did he never the sparrow. 
+
+Fal. Well, that rascal hath good mettle in 
+him; he will not run. 
+
+Prince. Why, what a rascal art thou then, 
+to praise him so for running! 
+
+Fal. O' horseback, ye cuckoo; but afoot 
+he will not budge a foot. 
+
+Prince. Yes, Jack, upon instinct. 389 
+
+Fal. 1 grant ye, upon instinct. Well, he is 
+there too, and one Mordake, and a thousand 
+blue-caps more: Worcester is stolen away to- 
+night; thy father’s beard is turned white with 
+the news: you may buy land now as cheap 
+as stinking mackerel. 
+
+Prince.’ Why, then, it is like, if there come 
+a hot June and this civil buffeting hold, we 
+shall buy maidenheads as they buy hob-nails, 
+by: the hundreds. 399 
+
+Fal. By the mass, lad, thou sayest true; it 
+is like we shall have good trading that way. 
+But tell me, Hal, art not thou horrible afeard ? 
+thou being heir-apparent, could the world 
+pick thee out three such enemies again as 
+that fiend Douglas, that spirit Percy, and 
+that devil Glendower? Art thou not horribly 
+afraid? doth not thy bleod thrill at it? 
+
+
+5 oe 
+KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+Prince. Not a whit, i’ faith; I lack some 
+of thy instinct. i 409 
+
+Fal. Well, thou wilt be horribly chid to- 
+morrow when thou comest to thy father: if 
+thou love me, practise an answer. 
+
+Prince. Do thou stand for my father, and 
+examine me upon the particulars of my life. 
+
+Fal. Shall 1? content: this chair shall be 
+my state, this dagger my sceptre, and_ this 
+cushion my crown. 
+
+Prince. Thy state is taken for a joined- 
+stool, thy golden sceptre for a leaden dagger, 
+and thy precious rich crown for a_ pitiful 
+bald crown! 
+
+Fal. Well, an the fire of grace be not 
+quite out of thee, now shalt thou be moved. 
+Give me a cup of sack to make my eyes look 
+red, that it may be thought I have wept; for 
+I must speak in passion, and I will do it in’ 
+King Cambyses’ vein. 
+
+Prince. Well, here is my leg. 
+
+Fal. And here is my speech. Stand aside, 
+nob lity. 429 
+
+Host. O Jesu, this is excellent sport, i’ 
+faith! 
+
+Fal. Weep not, sweet queen; for trickling 
+
+tears are vain. 
+
+Host. O, the father, how he holds his 
+countenance! 
+
+Fal. For God’s sake, lords, convey my 
+
+tristful queen; 
+For tears do stop the flood-gates of her eyes. 
+
+Host. O Jesu, he doth it as like one of 
+these harlotry players as ever I see! 
+
+Fal. Peace, ggod pint-pot; peace, good 
+tickle-bra'n. Harry, I do not only marvel 
+where thou spendest thy time, but also how 
+thou art accompanied: for though the camo- 
+mile, the more it is trodden on the faster it 
+grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted the 
+sooner it wears. That thou art my son, I 
+have partly thy mother’s word, partly my own 
+opinion, but chiefly a villanous trick of thine 
+eye and a foolish hanging of thy nether lip, 
+that doth warrant me. If then thou be son 
+to me, here lies the point; why, being son te 
+me, art thou so pointed at? Shall the blessed 
+sun of heaven prove a micher and eat black- 
+berries? a question not to be asked. Shall the 
+son of England prove a thief and take purses? 
+a question to be asked. There is a thing. 
+Harry, which thou hast often heard of and it ig 
+known to many in our land by the name of 
+pitch: this pitch, as ancient writers do report. 
+doth defile; so doth the company thou keep- 
+est: for, Harry, now I do not speak to thee 
+in drink but in tears, not in pleasure but in 
+passion, not in words only, but in woes also: 
+and yet there is a virtuous man whom | have 
+
+
+[Acr II, Sc. IV | 
+
+
+: 
+| 
+
+
+FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+Tia oelih roe IV] 
+
+
+often noted in thy company, but I know not 
+his name. 46| 
+
+Prince. What manner of man, an it like 
+your majesty ? 
+
+Fal. A goodly portly man, 7’ faith, and a 
+corpulent; of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye 
+and a most noble carriage; and, as I think, his 
+age some fifty, or, by ’r lady, inclining to three 
+score; and now I remember me, his name is 
+Falstaff: if that man should be lewdly given, 
+he deceiveth me; for, Harry, I see virtue in 
+his looks. If then the tree may be known 
+by the fruit, as the fruit by the tree, then, 
+peremptorily I speak it, there is virtue in that 
+Falstaff: him keep with, the rest banish. And 
+tell me now, thou naughty varlet, tell me, 
+where hast thou been this month? 
+
+Prince. Dost thou speak like a king? Do 
+thou stand for me, and I'll play my father. 
+
+Fal. Depose me? if thou dost it half so 
+_ gravely, so majestically, both in word and 
+matter, hang me up by the heels for a rabbit- 
+sucker or a poulter’s hare. 481 
+
+Prince. Well, here I am set. 
+
+Fal. And here I stand: judge, my masters. 
+
+Prince. Now, Harry, whence come you? 
+
+Fal. My noble lord, from Eastcheap. 
+
+Prince, The complaints I hear of thee are 
+grievous. 
+
+Fal. ‘Sblood, my lord, they are false: nay, 
+I'll tickle ye for a young prince, i’ faith. 489 
+
+Prince. Swearest thou, ungracious. boy? 
+henceforth ne'er look on me. Thou art vio- 
+lently. carried away from grace: there is a 
+devil haunts thee in the likeness of an old fat 
+man; a tun of man is thy companion. Why 
+dost thou converse with that trunk of humours, 
+that bolting-hutch of beastliness, that swollen 
+parcel of dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, 
+that stuffed cloak-bag of guts, that roasted 
+Manning-tree ox with the pudding in his belly, 
+that reverend vice, that grey iniquity, that fa- 
+ther ruffian, that vanity in years? Wherein 
+is he good, but to taste sack and drink it? 
+wherein neat and cleanly, but to carve a capon 
+and eat it? wherein cunning, but in craft? 
+wherein crafty, but in villany? wherein vil- 
+lanous, but in all things? wherein worthy, but 
+in nothing ? 
+
+Fal. 1 would your grace would take me 
+with you: whom means your grace? 
+
+Prince. That villanous abominable mis- 
+leader, of youth, Falstaff, that old white- 
+bearded Satan. 
+
+Fal. My lord, the man I know. 510 
+
+Prince. 1 know thou dost. 
+
+Fal. But to say I know more harm. in him 
+than in myself, were to say more than I know. 
+
+
+That he is old, the more the pity, his white | 
+
+
+KING HENRY IV 485 
+
+
+ye 
+Yay 
+
+
+hairs do witness it; but that he is, saving your 
+reverence, a whoremaster, that I utterly deny. 
+If sack and sugar be a fault, God help the 
+wicked! if to be old and merry be asim, 
+then many an old host that I know is damned: 
+if to be fat be to be hated, then Pharaoh’s 
+lean kine are to be loved. No, my good lord; 
+banish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Pome 
+but for sweet Jack Falstaff, kind Jack Fal- 
+staff, true Jack Falstaff, valiant Jack Falstaff, 
+and. therefore more valiant, being, as he is, 
+old Jack. Falstaff, banish not him thy Harry’s 
+company, banish not him thy Harry's com- 
+pany: banish plump Jack, and banish all the 
+world. 
+Prince. 1 do, I will... [A knocking heard. 
+[Exeunt Hostess, Francis, and Bardolph. 
+
+
+Re-enter BARDOLPH, running. 
+Bard. O, my lord, my lord! the sheriff 
+
+
+with a most monstrous watch is. at the door. 
+Fal. Out, ye rogue! Play out the play: I 
+have much to say in the behalf of that Falstaff. 
+
+
+Re-enter the Hostess. 
+
+
+Host. O Jesu, my lord, my lord! 
+
+Prince. Heigh, heigh! the devil rides upon 
+a fiddlestick: what's the matter? 
+
+Host. The sheriff and all the watch are at 
+the door: they are come to search the house. 
+Shall I let them in? 
+
+Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? never cali a 
+true piece of gold a counterfeit: thou art 
+
+
+essentially mad, without seeming so. 54] 
+Prince. And thou a natural coward, with- 
+out instinct. 
+Fal. \ deny your major: if you will deny 
+
+
+the sheriff, so; if not, let him enter: if ] be- 
+come not a cart-as well as another man, a 
+plague on my bringing up! I hope I shall as 
+soon be strangled with a halter as another-. 
+
+Prince. Go, hide thee behind the arras: 
+the rest walk up above. Now, my masters, for 
+a true face and good conscience. 
+
+Fal. Both which I have had: but thei 
+date is out, and therefore I'll hide me. 
+
+Prince. Call in the sheriff. 
+
+[Exeunt all except the Prince and Peto. 
+
+
+Enter Sheriff and the Carrier. 
+
+
+Now, master sheriff, what is your will with me? 
+Sher. First, pardon me, my lord. A hue 
+and cry 
+Hath follow’d certain men unto this house. 
+Prince. What men? 
+Sher. One of them is well known, my 
+gracious lord, 
+A gross fat man. 
+Car. As fat as butter. 560 
+
+
+’ 
+
+
+486 FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY IV [Acr Ill, Sc. I 
+
+
+| Prince. The man, I do assure you, is not 
+here; 
+For I myself at this time have employ’d him. 
+And, sheriff, I will engage my word to thee 
+That I will, by to-morrow dinner-time, 
+Send him to answer thee, or any man, 
+For any thing he shall be charged withal: 
+And so let me entreat you leave the house. 
+Sher. I will, my lord. There are two gen- 
+tlemen 
+Have in this robbery lost three hundred marks. 
+Prince. \t may be so: if he have robb’d 
+these men, 570 
+He shall be answerable; and so farewell. 
+Sher. Good night, my noble lord. 
+» Prince. I think’ it is good morrow, is it 
+not? 
+Sher. Indeed, my lord, I think it be two 
+o'clock. [Exeunt Sheriff and Carrier. 
+' Prince. This oily rascal is known as well 
+as Paul’s. Go, call him forth. 
+Peto. Falstaff!—Fast asleep behind 
+acras, and snorting like a horse. 
+Prince. Hark, how hard he fetches breath. 
+Search his pockets. [He searcheth his pock- 
+ets and findeth certain papers.} What hast 
+thou found? 
+Peto. Nothing but papers, my lord. 
+. Prince, Let’s see what they be: read them. 
+Peto. [Reads] 
+
+
+the 
+
+
+Item, A capon, . 2s. 2d. 
+Item, Sauce, . 3 4d. 
+Item, Sack, two gallons, 5s. 8d. 
+Item, Anchovies and sack 
+
+after supper, . 2s. 6d. 
+Item, Bread ob. 
+
+
+Prince. O monstrous! but one half-penny- 
+worth of bread to this intolerable deal of sack! 
+What there is else, keep close; we'll read it 
+‘at more advantage: there let him sleep till 
+day. I'll to the court in the morning. We 
+must all to the wars, and thy place shall be 
+honourable. I'll procure this fat rogue a 
+charge of foot; and I know his death will be 
+a march of twelve-score. The money shall 
+be paid back again with advantage. Be 
+with me betimes in the morning; and so, good 
+sorrow, Peto. 601 
+
+Peto. Good morrow, good my lord. 
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT III. 
+
+
+Scene !. Bangor. The Archdeacon’s house. 
+Emter Hotspur, Worcester, Mortimer, 
+and GLENDOWER. 
+
+Mort. These promises are fair, the parties 
+
+sure, 
+‘Aad our induction full of prosperous hope. 
+
+
+Hoi. Lord Mortimer, and cousn Glen- 
+dower, 
+Will you sit down? 
+And uncle. Worcester: a plague upon it! 
+I have forgot the map. 
+
+Glend. No, here it is. 
+
+Sit, cousin Percy; sit, good cousin Hotspur, 
+
+For by that name as oft as Lancaster 
+
+Doth speak of you, his cheek looks pale and 
+with 
+
+A rising sigh he wisheth you in heaven. 10 
+
+Hot. And you in hell, as oft as he hears 
+Owen Glendower spoke of. 
+
+Glend. I cannot blame him: at my nativity 
+The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes, 
+Of burning cressets; and at my birth 
+The frame and huge foundation of the earth 
+Shaked like a coward. 
+
+Hot. Why, so it would have done at the 
+same season, if your mother’s cat had but 
+kittened, though yourself had never been 
+
+
+born. 20 
+Glend. | say the earth did shake when I 
+was born. 
+Hot. And | say the earth was not of my 
+mind, 
+
+
+If you suppose as fearing you it shook. 
+Glend. The heavens were all on fire, the 
+earth did tremble. 
+Hot. O, then the earth shook to see the 
+heavens on fire, 
+And not in fear of your nativity. 
+Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth 
+In strange eruptions; oft the teeming earth 
+Is with a kind of colic pinch’d and vex'd 
+By the imprisoning of unruly wind 30 
+Within her womb; which, for enlargement 
+striving, 
+Shakes the old beldam earth and topples down 
+Steeples and moss-grown towers. At your birth 
+Our grandam earth, having this distempera- 
+ture, : 
+In passion shook. 
+Glend. Cousin, of many men 
+I do not bear these crossings. Give me leave 
+To tell you once again that at my birth 
+The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes, 
+The goats ran from the mountains, and the 
+herds 
+Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields. 
+These signs have mark’d me extraordinary; 
+And all the courses of my life do show 
+I am not in the roll of common men. 
+Where is he living, clipp’d in with the sea 
+That chides the banks of England, Scotland, 
+Wales, 
+Which calls me pup’, or hath read to me? 
+And bring him out that is but woman’s son 
+Can trace me in the tedious ways of art 
+
+
+Pe Se ee ee a a, a 
+
+
+ve 2 
+
+
+A” Ae Pia 
+
+
+tAer Im Sc. 1) FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+And hold me pace in deep experiments. 
+_ Hot, | think there's no man speaks better 
+Welsh. 
+
+
+I'll to dinner. 
+Mort. Peace, cousin Percy; you will make 
+him mad. 
+Glend. 1 can call spirits from the vasty 
+deep. 
+
+
+Hot. Why, so can I, or so can any man; 
+But will they come when you do call for them? 
+Glend. Why, I can teach you, cousin, to 
+command 
+The devil. 5 
+Hot. And I can teach thee, coz, to shame 
+the devil 
+By telling truth: tell truth and shame the devil. 
+If thou have power to raise him, bring him 
+
+
+hither, 60 
+And I'll be sworn I have power to shame him 
+hence. 
+O, while you live, tell truth and shame the 
+devil! 
+
+
+_ Mort. Come, come, no more of this un- 
+profitable chat. 
+
+
+Glend. Three times hath Henry Boling- |: 
+
+
+broke made head 
+
+
+Against my power; thrice from the: banks of 
+
+
+‘ ye 
+And sandy-bottom’d Severn have I sent him 
+Bootless home and weather-beaten back. 
+Hot. Home without boots, and in foul 
+weather too! 
+How ‘scapes he agues, in the devil's name? 
+Glend. Come, here's the map: shall we 
+divide our right f 70 
+According to our threefold order ta’en? 
+Mort. The archdeacon hath divided it 
+Into three limits very equally: 
+England, from Trent and Severn hitherto, 
+By south and east is to my part assign’d: 
+All westward, Wales beyond the Severn shore, 
+And all the fertile land within that bound, 
+To Owen Glendower: and, dear coz, to you 
+The remnant northward, lying off from Trent. 
+And our indentures tripartite are drawn; 80 
+Which being sealed interchangeably, 
+~A business that this night may execute, , 
+To-morrow, cousin Percy, you and | 
+And my good Lord of Worcester will set 
+forth 
+To meet your father and the Scottish power, 
+As is appointed us, at Shrewsbury. 
+My father Glendower is not ready yet, 
+Nor shall we need his help these fourteen days. 
+‘Within that space you may have drawn to- 
+gether 
+Your tenants, friends and neighbouring gen- 
+tlemen. 
+Glend. A shorter time shall send me to 
+you, lords: 
+
+
+KING HENRY IV 487 
+
+And in my conduct shall your ladies come; 
+
+From whom you now must steal and take no 
+leave, 
+
+For there will be a world of water shed 
+
+Upon the parting of your wives and you, 
+Hot. Methinks my moiety, north from 
+
+Burton here, 
+
+In quantity equals not one of yours: 
+
+See how this river comes me cranking in, 
+
+And cuts me from the best of all my land 
+
+A huge half-moon, a monstrous cantle out. 
+
+Ill have the current in this place damn’d up; 
+
+And here the smug and slver Trent shall run 
+
+In a new channel, fair and evenly; 
+
+It shall not wind with such a deep indent, 
+
+To rob me of so rich a bottom here. 
+Glend. Not wind? it shall, it must; you 
+
+see it doth. 
+Mort. Yea, but 
+
+Mark how he bears his course, and runs me up 
+
+With like advantage on the other side; 
+
+Gelding the opposed continent as much 110 
+
+As on the other side it takes from you. 
+Wor. Yea, but a little charge will trench 
+
+him here 
+
+And on this north side win this cape of land; 
+
+And then: he runs straight and even. 
+
+Hot. I'll have it so: a little charge will 
+
+do it. 
+
+Glend. I'll not have it alter’d. 
+
+Hot. Will not you? 
+Glend. No, nor you shall not. 
+
+Hot. Who shall say me nay ? 
+Glend. Why, that will I. 
+
+Hot. Let me not understand you, then; 
+
+speak it in Welsh. 120 
+Glend. 1 can speak English, lord, as well 
+
+as you; 
+
+For I was train’d up in the English court; 
+
+Where, being but young, | framed to the 
+
+harp 
+
+Many an English ditty lovely well 
+
+And gave the tongue a helpful ornament, 
+
+A virtue that was never seen in you, 
+
+Hot. Marry, 
+
+And I am glad of it with all my heart: 
+
+I had rather be a kitten and cry mew 
+
+Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers; 
+
+I had rather hear a brazen canstick turn’d, 
+
+Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree; 
+
+And that would set my teeth nothing on edge, 
+
+Nothing so much as mincing poetry: 
+
+‘Tis like the forced gait of a shuffling nag. 
+Glend. Come, you shall have Trent turn’d. 
+Hot. I do not care: I'Il give thrice so 
+
+much land 
+
+To any well-deserving friend; 
+
+But in the way of bargain, mark ye me, 
+
+I "ll cavil on the ninth part of a hair. 
+
+
+140 
+
+
+488 
+
+
+FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+[Acr III, Se. 1 
+
+
+Are the indentures drawn? shall we be gone? | Beguiling them of commendation. 
+
+
+Glend. The moon shines fair; you may 
+away by night: 
+I'll haste the writer and withal 
+Break with your wives of your departure 
+hence: 
+I am afraid my daughter will run mad, 
+So much she doteth on her Mortimer. [Exit. 
+Mort. Fie, cousin Percy! how you cross 
+
+
+my father! 
+Hot. | cannot choose: sometime he angers 
+me 
+
+
+With telling me of the moldwarp and the ant, 
+Of the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies, 
+And of a dragon and a finless fish, 
+
+A clip-wing’d grifin and a moulten raven, 
+A couching lion and a ramping cat, 
+
+And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff 
+As puts me from my faith. I tell you what; 
+He held me last night at least nine hours 
+
+In reckoning up the several dev Is’ names 
+That were his lackeys: I cried ‘hum,’ and 
+
+
+‘well, go to,’ 
+But mark’d him not a word. O, he is as 
+tedious 
+
+
+As a tired horse, a railing wife; 160 
+
+Worse than a smoky house: | had rather live 
+
+With cheese and garlic in a windmill, far, 
+
+Than feed on cates and have him talk to me 
+
+In any summer-house in Christendom. 
+
+Mort. In fa'th, he is a worthy gentleman, 
+
+Exceedingly well read, and profited 
+
+In strange concealments, valiant as a lion 
+
+And wondrous affable and as bountiful 
+
+As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin? 
+
+He holds your temper in a high respect 170 
+
+And curbs himself even of his natural scope 
+
+When you come ‘cross his humour; faith, he 
+does: 
+
+I warrant you, that man is not al!ve 
+
+Might so have tempted him as you have done, 
+
+Without the taste of danger and reproof: 
+
+But do not use it oft, let me entreat you. 
+
+War. In faith, my lord, you are too wil- 
+
+ful-blame; 
+
+And since your coming hither have done 
+enough 
+
+To put him quite beside his patience. 
+
+You must needs learn, lord, to amend this 
+fault: 
+
+Though sometimes it show greatness, courage, 
+blood,— 18] 
+
+And that’s the dearest grace it renders you,— 
+
+Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage, 
+
+Defect of manners, want of government, 
+
+Pride, haughtiness, opinion and disdain: 
+
+The least of which haunting a nobleman 
+
+Loseth men’s hearts and leaves behind a stain 
+
+Upon the beauty of all parts besides, 
+
+
+Hot. Well, | am school’d: good manners 
+be your speed! 190 
+Here come our wives, and let us take our leave. 
+
+
+Re-enter GLENDOWER with the ladies. 
+
+
+Mort. This is the deadly spite that angers 
+me; 
+My wife can speak no English, I no Welsh. 
+Glend. My daughter weeps: she will not 
+part with you; 
+She ‘ll be a soldier too, she'll to the wars. 
+Mort. Good father, tell her that she and 
+my aunt Percy 
+Shall follow in your conduct speedily. 
+[Glendower speaks to her in Welsh, and 
+she answers him in the same. 
+Glend. She is desperate here; a peevish 
+self-will’d harlotry, one that no persuasion can 
+do good upon. [The lady speaks in Welsh. 
+Mort. I understand thy looks: that pretty 
+Welsh 201 
+Which thou pour'st down from these swelling 
+heavens 
+I am too perfect in; and, but for shame, 
+In such a parley should I answer thee. 
+[The lady speaks again in Welsh. 
+I understand thy. kisses and thou mine, 
+And that’s a feeling disputation: 
+But I will never be a.truant, love, 
+Till I have learn’d thy language; for thy 
+tongue 
+Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn’d, 
+Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower, 
+With ravishing division, to her lute. 
+Glend. Nay, af you melt, then will she run 
+mad. [The lady speaks again in Welsh. 
+Mort. O, I am ignorance itself in this! 
+Glend. She bids you on the wanton rushes 
+lay you down 
+And rest your gentle head upon her lap, 
+And she will sing the song that pleaseth you 
+And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep, 
+Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness, 
+Making the difference ‘twixt wake and sleep 
+Ag is the difference betwixt day and night 220 
+The hour before the heavenly-harness’d team 
+Begns his golden progress in the east. 
+Mort. With all my heart I'll sit and hear 
+her sing: i 
+By that time will our book, I think, be drawn 
+Glend. Do so; 
+And those musicians that shall play to you 
+Hang in the air a thousand leagues from 
+hence, 
+And straight they shall be here: sit, and attend. 
+Hot. Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying 
+jlown: come, quick, quick, that | may lay my 
+head in thy lap. 
+
+
+aa 
+
+
+FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+489 
+
+
+Lady P. Go, ye giddy goose. 
+
+, [The music plays. 
+
+Hot. Now | perceive the devil understands 
+
+Welsh; 
+And ‘tis no marvel he is so humorous. 
+By. ’r lady, he is a good musician. 
+
+Lady P. Then should you be nothing but 
+musical, for you are altogether governed by 
+humours. Lie still, ye thief, and hear the 
+lady sing in Welsh. 
+
+Hot. I had rather hear Lady, my brach, 
+howl in Irish. 241 
+
+Lady P. Wouldst thou have thy head 
+
+
+broken? 
+Hot. No. 
+Lady P, Then be still. 
+Hot. Neither; ‘tis a woman’s fault. 
+
+
+Lady P. Now God help thee! 
+Hoi. To the Welsh lady’s bed. 
+Lady P, What's that? 
+Hot. Peace! she sings. 
+[Here the lady sings a Welsh song. 
+
+
+’-- Hot, Come, Kate, Ill have your song too. 
+Lady P. Not mine, in good sooth. 251 
+Hot. Not yours; in good sooth! Heart! 
+
+
+you swear like a comfit-maker’s wife. ‘Not 
+you, in good sooth,’ and ‘as true as I live,’ 
+: a Jas God shall mend me,’ and ‘as sure as 
+_ day, 
+_ And givest such sarcenet surety for thy oaths, 
+_ As if thou never walk’st further than Finsbury. 
+Swear me, Kate, like a lady as thou art, 
+A good mouth-filling oath, and leave ‘in sooth,” 
+__ And such protest of pepper-gingerbread, 260 
+_ To velvet-guards and Sunday-citizens. 
+
+Come, sing. 
+Lady P. I will not sing. 
+\ Hot. Tis the next way to turn tailor, or 
+_ be red-breast teacher. An the indentures be 
+_ drawn, I Il away within these two hours; and 
+so come in when ye will. [Exit. 
+Glend. Come, come, Lord Mortimer; you 
+Y are as slow 
+
+As hot Lord Percy is on fire to go. 
+By this our book is drawn; we'll but seal, 
+4 And then to horse aincideately 
+
+
+Mort. With all my heart. [Exeunt. 
+A Scene II. London. The palace. 
+
+ag Enter the Kinc, Prince or WALEs, 
+and others. 
+
+
+: King. Lords, give us leave; the Prince of 
+d Wales and I 
+_ Must have some private conference: but be 
+near at hand, 
+| For we shall teeta tn have need of you. 
+[Exeunt Lords. 
+a know not whether God will have it so, 
+_ For some displeasing service I have done, 
+
+
+; 
+:. 
+
+
+That, in his secret doom, out of my blood 
+
+He'll breed revengement and a scourge for 
+me; 
+
+But thou dost in thy passages of life 
+
+Make me believe that thou art only mark’d 
+
+For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven 
+
+To punish my mistreadings. Tell me else, I 
+
+Could such inordinate and low desires, 
+
+Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean 
+attempts, 
+
+
+Such barren pleasures, rude society, 
+
+
+As thou art match’d withal and grafted to, 
+
+Accompany the greatness of thy blood 
+
+And hold their level with thy princely heart? 
+
+Prince. So please your majesty, | would 
+
+I could 
+
+Quit all offences with as clear excuse 
+
+As well as I am doubtless I can purge 
+
+Myself of many I am charged withal: — 
+
+Yet such extenuation let me beg, 
+
+As, in reproof of many tales devised, 
+
+Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear, 
+
+By smiling pick-thanks and base newsmon- 
+gers, 
+
+I may, for some things true, wherein my youth 
+
+Hath faulty wander’d and irregular, 
+
+Find pardon on my true submission. 
+
+King. God pardon thee; yet let me won- 
+
+der, Harry, 
+
+At thy affections, which do hold a wing 30 
+
+Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors. 
+
+Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost, 
+
+Which by thy younger brother is supplied, 
+
+And art almost an alien to the hearts 
+
+Of all the court and princes of my blood: 
+
+The hope and expectation of thy time 
+
+Is ruin’d, and the soul of every man 
+
+Prophetically doth forethink thy fall. 
+
+Had I so lavish of my presence been, 
+
+So common-hackney’d in the eyes of men, 40 
+
+So stale and cheap to vulgar company, 
+
+Opinion, that did help me to the crown, 
+
+Had still kept loyal to possession 
+
+And left me in reputeless banishment, 
+
+A fellow of no mark nor likelihood. 
+
+By being seldom seen, | could not stir 
+
+But like a comet I was wonder'd at; 
+
+That men would tell their children ‘This is 
+he;’ 
+
+Others would say ‘Where, which is Boling- 
+broke?’ 
+
+And then I stole all courtesy from heaven, 50 
+
+And dress’d myself in such humility 
+
+That I did pluck allegiance from men’s hearts, 
+
+Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths, 
+
+Even in the presence of the crowned king. 
+
+Thus did I keep my person fresh and new; 
+
+My presence, like a robe pontifical, 
+
+Ne’er seen but wonder'd at: and so my state, 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+490 FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+KING HENRY IV {Acr III, Sc. 0 
+
+
+Seldom but sumptuous, showed like a. feast 
+
+And won by rareness such solemnity. 
+
+The sk-pping king, he ambled up and down 
+
+With shallow jesters and rash bavin wits, 
+
+Soon kindled and soon burnt; carded his state, 
+
+Mingled his royalty with capering fools, 
+
+Had his great name profaned with their scorns 
+
+And gave his countenance, against his name, 
+
+To laugh at gibing boys and stand the push 
+
+Of every beardless vain comparative, 
+
+Grew a compan‘on to the common streets, 
+
+Enfeoff'd himself to popularity; 
+
+That, being daily swallow’d by men’s eyes, 70 
+
+They surfeited with honey and began 
+
+To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a 
+little 
+
+More than a little is by much too much. 
+
+So when he had occasion to be seen, 
+
+He was but as the cuckoo is in June, 
+
+Heard, not regarded; seen, but with such eyes 
+
+As, sick and blunted with community, 
+
+Afford no extraordinary gaze, 
+
+Such as is bent on sun-like majesty 
+
+When it shines seldom in admiring eyes; 80 
+
+But rather drowsed and hung their eyelids 
+down, 
+
+Slept in his face and render’d such aspect 
+
+As cloudy men use to their adversaries, 
+
+Being with his presence glutted, gorged and 
+full. 
+
+And in that very line, Harry, standest thou; 
+
+For thou hast lost thy princely privilege 
+
+With vile participation: not an eye 
+
+But is a-weary of thy common sight, 
+
+Save mine, which hath desired to see thee 
+more; 
+
+Which now doth that I would not have it do, 
+
+Make blind itself with foolish tenderness. 91 
+
+Prince. 1 shall hereafter, my thrice gra- 
+
+
+cious lord, 
+Be more myself. 
+King. For all the world 
+
+
+As thou art to this hour was Richard then 
+When I from France set foot at Ravenspurgh, 
+And even as | was then is Percy now. 
+Now, by my sceptre and my soul to boot, 
+He hath more worthy interest to the state 
+Than thou the shadow of succession; 
+
+For of no right, nor colour like to right, 100 
+He doth fill fields with harness in the realm, 
+Turns head against the lion’s armed jaws, 
+And, being no more in debt to years than thou, 
+Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on 
+To bloody battles and to bruising arms. 
+What never-dying honour hath he got 
+Against renowned Douglas! whose high deeds, 
+Whose hot incursions and great name in arms 
+Holds from all soldiers chief majority 
+
+
+And military title capital 110 
+
+
+Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge 
+Christ: 
+
+Thrice hath this Hotspur, Mars in swathling 
+clothes, 
+
+This infant warrior, in his enterprizes 
+
+Discomfited great Douglas, ta’en him once, 
+
+Enlarged him and made a friend of him, 
+
+To fill the mouth of deep defiance up 
+
+And shake the peace and safety of our throne. 
+
+And what say you to this? Percy, Northum- 
+berland, 
+
+The Archbishop’s grace of York, Douglas, 
+Mortimer, 
+
+Capitulate against us and are up. 120 
+
+But wherefore do I tell these news to thee? 
+
+Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes, 
+
+Which art my near’st and dearest enemy ? 
+
+Thou that art like enough, through vassal fear, 
+
+Base inclination and the start of spleen, 
+
+To fight against me under Percy's pay, 
+
+To dog his heels and curtsy at his frowns, 
+
+To show how much thou art degenerate. 
+
+Prince. Do not think so; you shall not 
+
+find it so: 
+
+And God forgive them that so much have 
+sway 'd 130 
+
+Your majesty’s good thoughts away from me! 
+
+I will redeem all this on Percy’s head 
+
+And in the closing of some glorious day ~ 
+
+Be bold to tell you that I am your son; 
+
+When I will wear a garment all of blood 
+
+And stain my favours in a bloody mask, 
+
+Which, wash'd away, shall scour my shame 
+with it: 
+
+And that shall be the day, whene’er it lights, 
+
+That this same child of honour and renown, 
+
+This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight, 
+
+And your unthought-of Harry chance to meet. 
+
+For every honour sitting on his helm, 
+
+Would they were multitudes, and on my head 
+
+My shames redoubled! for the time will come, 
+
+That I shall make this northern youth ex- 
+change 
+
+His glorious deeds for my indignities. 
+
+Percy is but my factor, good my lord, 
+
+To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf; 
+
+And I will call him to so strict account, 
+
+That he shall render every glory up, 150 
+
+Yea, even the slightest worship of his time, 
+
+Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart. 
+
+This, in the name of God, I promise here: 
+
+The which if He be pleased I shall perform, 
+
+I do beseech your majesty may salve 
+
+The long-grown wounds of my intemperance: 
+
+If not, the end of life cancels all bands; 
+
+And I will die a hundred thousand deaths 
+
+Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow. 
+
+King. A hundred thousand rebels die in 
+
+this: : 100 
+
+
+Act Ifl, Se. HI] FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+Thou shait have charge and sovereign trust 
+herein. 
+
+
+Enter BLunrT. 
+
+
+‘ow now, good Blunt? thy looks are full of 
+
+
+speed. 
+Blunt. So hath the business that I come to 
+speak of. 
+
+
+Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word 
+That Douglas and the English rebels met 
+The eleventh of this month at Shrewsbury: 
+A mighty and a fearful head they are, 
+If promises be kept on every hand, 
+As ever offer'd foul play in a state. 
+King. The Earl of Westmoreland set forth 
+to-day; 170 
+With him my son, Lord John of Lancaster; 
+' For th’s advertisement is five days old: 
+On Wednesday next, Harry, you shall set 
+forward; 
+On Thursday we ourselves will march: our 
+meeting 
+Is Bridgenorth: and, Harry, you shall march 
+Through Gloucestershire; by which account, 
+Our business valued, some twelve days hence 
+Our general forces at Bridgenorth shall meet. 
+Our hands are full of business: let ’s away; 
+Advantage feeds him fat, while men delay. 180 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IIJ, Eastcheap. The Boar's-Head 
+
+
+Tavern. 
+Enter FALSTAFF and BaRDOLPH. 
+
+
+Fal. Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely 
+since this last action? do I not bate? do | not 
+dwindle? why, my skin hangs about me like 
+an old lady's loose gown; I am withered like 
+an old apple-john. Well, I'll repent, and 
+that suddenly, while I am in some liking; I 
+shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall 
+have no strength to repent. An I have not 
+forgotten what the inside of a church is 
+made of, I am a peppercorn, a brewer's horse: 
+the inside of a church! Company, villanous 
+company, hath been the spoil of me. 
+
+Bard. Sir John, you are so fretful, you 
+cannot live long. 
+
+Fal. Why, there is it: come sing me a 
+bawdy song; make me merry. I was as vir- 
+tuously given as a gentleman need to be; 
+virtuous enough; swore little; diced not above 
+seven times a week; went to a bawdy-house 
+not above once in a quarter—of an hour; 
+paid money that I borrowed, three or four 
+times; lived well and in good compass: and 
+now | live out of all order, out of all compass. 
+
+Bard. Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that 
+you must needs be out of all compass, out of 
+alJ reasonable compass, Sir John. 
+
+
+KING HENRY IV 491 
+
+
+Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and | ll 
+amend my life: thou art our admiral, thou 
+bearest the lantern in the poop, but ‘tis in the 
+nose of thee; thou art the Knight of the 
+Burning Lamp. 30 
+
+Bard. Why, Sir John, my face does you 
+no harm. 
+
+Fal. No, I'll be sworn; I make as good 
+use of it as many a man doth of a Death’s- 
+head or a memento mori: | never see thy face 
+
+
+.| but I think upon hell-fire and Dives that lived 
+
+
+in purple; for there he is in his robes, burning, 
+burning. If thou wert any way given to virtue, 
+I would swear by thy face; my oath should 
+be “By this fire, that’s God's angel:’ but thou 
+art altogether given over; and wert indeed, 
+but for the light in thy face, the son of utter 
+darkness. When thou rannest up Gadshill in 
+the night to catch my horse, if I did not think 
+thou hadst been an ignis fatuus or a ball of 
+wildfire, there's no purchase in money. O, 
+thou art a perpetual triumph, an everlasting 
+bonfire-light! Thou hast saved me a thou- 
+sand marks in links and torches, walking with 
+thee in the night betwixt tavern and tavern: 
+but the sack that thou hast drunk me would 
+have bought me I’ghts as good cheap at the 
+dearest chandler’s in Europe. I have main- 
+tained that salamander of yours with fire any 
+time this two and thirty years; God reward 
+me for it! 
+
+Bard. ‘Sblood, I would my face were in 
+your belly! ys 
+Fal. God-a-mercy! so should I be sure to 
+be heart-burned. 
+
+
+Enter Hostess. 
+
+
+How now, Dame Parlet the hen! have you 
+inquired yet who picked my pocket? 61 
+
+Host. Why, Sir John, what do you think, 
+Sir John? do you think I keep thieves in my 
+house? I have searched, I have inquired, so 
+has my husband, man by man, boy by boy, 
+servant by servant: the tithe of a hair was 
+never lost in my house before. 
+
+Fal. Ye lie, hostess: Bardolph was shaved 
+and lost many a hair; and I'll be sworn my 
+pocket was picked. Go to, you are a woman, 
+
+
+go. 
+
+Host. Who, 1? no; I defy thee: God's 
+light, I was never called so in mine own 
+house before. 
+
+Fal. Go to, I know you well enough. 
+
+Host. No, Sir John; you do not know me, 
+Sir John. I know you, Sir John: you owe 
+me money, Sir John; and now you pick a 
+quarrel to beguile me of it: I bought you a 
+dozen of shirts to your back. 
+
+Fal. Dowlas, filthy dowlas: I have given 
+
+
+492 
+
+
+FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+eee (ihc 
+Act Ill, Sc. 11 
+
+
+Seen eseeeoeseooeee SS Eee 
+
+
+them away to bakers’ wives, and they have 
+made bolters of them. 81 
+
+Host. Now, as I am a true woman, holland 
+of eight shillings an ell. You owe money 
+here besides, Sir John, for your diet and by- 
+drinkings, and money lent you, four and 
+twenty pound. 
+
+Fal. He had his part of it; let him pay. 
+
+Host. He? alas, he is poor; he hath nothing. 
+
+Fal. How! poor? look upon his face; what 
+call you rich? let them coin his nose, let them 
+coin his cheeks: I "ll not pay a denier. What; 
+will you make a younker of me? shall I not 
+take mine ease in mine inn but I shall have 
+my pocket pcked? I have lost a seal-ring 
+of my grandfather’s worth forty mark. 
+
+Host. O Jesu, I have heard the prince tell 
+him, I know not how oft, that that ring was 
+«copper ! 
+
+_ Fal. How! the prince is a Jack, a sneak- 
+cup: 'sblood, an he were here, I would cudgel 
+him like a dog, if he would say so. 10] 
+
+
+Enter the Prince and Peto, marching, and 
+FALsTAFF meets them playing on his trun- 
+cheon like a fife. 
+
+
+How now, lad! is the wind in that door, i’ 
+faith? must we all march? 
+
+Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion. 
+
+Host. My lord, I pray you, hear me. 
+
+Prince. What sayest thou, Mistress Quickly ? 
+How doth thy husband? I love him well; he 
+is an honest man. 
+
+Host. Good my lord, hear me. 
+
+Fal. Prithee, let her alone, and list to me. 
+
+Prince. What sayest thou, Jack? 1] 
+
+Fal. The other night I fell asleep here be- 
+hind the arras and had my pocket picked: 
+this house is turned bawdy-house; they pick 
+pockets. 
+
+Prince. What didst thou lose, Jack? 
+
+Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or 
+four bonds of forty pound a-piece, and «a 
+seal-ring of my grandfather's. 
+
+Prince. A. trifle, some eight-penny matter. 
+
+Host. So I told him, my lord; and I said 
+I heard your grace say so: and, my lord, he 
+speaks most vilely of you, like a foul-mouthed 
+man as he is; and said he would cudgel you. 
+
+Prince. What! he did not? 
+
+Host. There’s neither faith, 
+womanhood in me else. 
+
+Fal, There's no more faith in thee than in 
+a stewed prune; nor no more truth in thee 
+than in a drawn fox; and for womanhood, 
+Maid Marian may be the deputy’s wife of 
+the ward to thee. Go, you thing, go. 13] 
+
+Host. Say, what thing? what thing? 
+
+
+truth, nor 
+
+
+Fal. What thing! why, a thing to thank 
+
+God on. 
+’ Host. I am no thing to thank God on, I 
+would thou shouldst know it; I am an honest 
+man’s wife: and, setting thy knighthood aside, 
+thou art a knave to call me so. 
+
+Fal. Setting thy womanhood aside, thou 
+art a beast to say otherwise. 140 
+
+Host. Say, what beast, thou knave, thou? 
+
+Fal. What beast! why, an otter. 
+
+Prince. An otter, Sir John! why an otter? 
+
+Fal. Why, she’s. neither fish nor flesh; 
+a man knows not where to have her, 
+
+Host. Thou art an unjust man in saying 
+so: thou or any man knows where to have me, 
+thou knave, thou! 
+
+Prince. Thou sayest true, hostess; and he 
+slanders thee most grossly. 150 
+
+Host. So he doth you, my lord; and said 
+this other day you ought him a_ thousand 
+pound. 
+
+Prince. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand 
+pound ? 
+
+Fal. A thousand pound, Hal! a million: 
+thy love is worth a million: thou owest me 
+thy love. 
+
+Host. Nay, my lord, he called you Jack, 
+and said he would cudgel you. 
+
+Fal. Did 1, Bardolph? 160 
+
+Bard. Indeed, Sir John, you said so. 
+
+Fal. Yea, if he said my ring was copper. 
+
+Prince. I say ‘ts copper: darest thou be 
+as good as thy word now? 
+
+Fal. Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art 
+but man, I dare: but as thou art prince, I 
+fear thee as I fear the roaring of the lion's 
+whelp. 
+
+Prince. And why not as the lion? 
+
+Fal. The king himself is to be feared as 
+the lion: dost thou think I ‘Il fear thee as I 
+fear thy father? nay, an I do, I pray God my 
+girdle break. ; 
+
+Prince. O, if it should, how would thy 
+guts fall about thy knees! But, sirrah, there ’s 
+no room for faith, truth, nor honesty in this 
+
+
+bosom of thine; itis all filled up with guts and - 
+
+
+midriff. Charge an honest woman with picking 
+thy pocket! why, thou whoreson, impudent, 
+embossed rascal, if there were anything in thy 
+pocket but tavern-reckonings, memorandums 
+of bawdy-houses, and one poor penny-worth 
+of sugar-candy to make thee long-winded, if 
+thy pocket were enriched with any other in- 
+juries but these, I am a villain: and yet you 
+will stand to it; you will not pocket up 
+wrong: art thou not ashamed? 
+
+Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? thou knowest 
+in the state of innocency Adam fell; and 
+
+
+what should poor Jack Falstaff do in tha 
+
+
+oa 
+
+
+F 
+a 
+: 
+4 
+if 
+] 
+
+
+~ frailty. 
+
+
+~ 
+
+
+Act IV, Se. I] 
+
+
+FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+493 
+
+
+days of villany?. Thou seest | have more 
+flesh than another man, and therefore more 
+You confess then, you picked my 
+pocket? 190 
+
+Prince. It appears so by the story. 
+
+Fal. Hostess, 1 forgive thee: go, make 
+ready breakfast; love thy husband, look to 
+thy servants, cherish thy guests: thou shalt 
+find me tractable to any honest reason: thou 
+seest I am pacified still. Nay, prithee, be 
+gone. [Exit Hostess.]| Now, Hal, to the 
+news at court: for the robbery, lad, how is 
+that answered? 
+
+Prince. O, my sweet beef, I must still be 
+good angel to thee: the money is paid back 
+again. 200 
+
+Fal, O, 1 do not like that paying back; 
+‘tis a double labour. 
+
+Prince. 1 am good friends with my father 
+and may do any thing. 
+
+Fal. Rob me the exchequer the first thing 
+thou doest, and do it with unwashed hands too. 
+
+Bard. Do, my lord. 
+
+Prince. 1 have procured thee, Jack, a 
+charge of foot. 
+
+Fal. 1 would it had been of horse. Where 
+shall I find one that can steal well? O for a 
+fine thief, of the age of two and twenty or 
+thereabouts! I am heinously unprovided. 
+Well, God be thanked for these rebels, they 
+offend none but the virtuous: I laud them, I 
+praise them. 
+
+Prince. Bardolph! 
+
+Bard. My lord? 
+
+Prince. Go bear this letter to Lord John 
+of Lancaster, to my brother John; this to my 
+Lord of Westmoreland. [Exit Bardolph.] 
+Go, Peto, to horse, to horse; for thou and I 
+have thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner time. 
+[Exit Peto.] Jack, meet me to-morrow in 
+the Temple hall at two o'clock in the after- 
+noon. 
+
+There shalt thou! know thy charge; and there 
+receive 
+
+Money and order for their furniture. 
+
+The land is burning; Percy stands on high; 
+
+And either we or they must lower lie. [Exit. 
+
+Fal. Rare words! brave world! Hostess, 
+
+my breakfast, come! 229 
+
+O, I could wish this tavern were my drum! 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+ACT IV. 
+
+
+Scene I. The rebel camp near Shrewsbury. 
+Enter Hotspur, WorcesTER, and Douc.as. 
+Hot. Well said, my noble Scot: if speak- 
+ing truth 
+In this fine age were not thought flattery, 
+Such attribution should the Douglas have, 
+
+
+As not a soldier of this season's stamp 
+Should go so general current through the 
+world. 
+By God, I cannot flatter; I do defy 
+The tongues of soothers; but a braver place 
+In my heart's love hath no man than yourself: 
+Nay, task me to my word; approve me, lord. 
+Doug. Thou art the king of honour: 10 
+No man so potent breathes upon the ground 
+But I will beard hm. 
+Hot. Do so, and ‘tis well. 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger with lelters. 
+
+
+What letters hast thou there2—I can but 
+thank you. 
+Mess. These letters come from your father. 
+Hot. Letters from him; why comes he not 
+himself > 
+Mess. He cannot come, my lord; he is 
+grievous sick, 
+Hot. ‘Zounds! how has he the leisure to 
+be sick 
+In such a justling time? Who leads his power? 
+Under whose government come they along? 
+Mess. His letters bear his mind, not I, 
+my lord. 20 
+Wor. I prithee, tell me, doth he keep his 
+bed? 
+Mess. He did, my lord, four days ere J 
+set forth; 
+And at the time of my departure thence 
+He was much fear’d by his physicians. 
+Wor. 1 would the state of time had first 
+been .whcle 
+Ere he by sickness had been visited: 
+His health was never better worth than now. 
+Hot. Sick now! droop now! this sickness 
+doth infect 
+The very life-blood of our enterprise; 
+"Tis catching hither, even to our camp. 30 
++ He writes me here, that inward sickness— 
+And that his friends by deputation could not 
+So soon be drawn, nor did he think it meet 
+To lay so dangerous and dear a trust 
+On any soul removed but on his own. 
+Yet doth he give us bold advertisement, 
+That with our small conjunction we should on, 
+To see how fortune is disposed to us; 
+For, as he writes, there is no quailing now, 
+Because the king is certainly possess'd 40 
+Of all our purposes. What say you to it? 
+
+
+Wor. Your father’s sickness is a maim 
+to us. 
+Hot. A perilous gash, a very limb lopp’d 
+
+
+off: 
+And yet, m faith, it is not; his present want 
+Seems more than we shall find it: were it good 
+To set the exact wealth of all our states. 
+All at one cast? to set so rich a main 
+
+
+494 FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY IV [Act IV, Sc. Il 
+
+
+On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour? 
+It were not good; + for therein should we read 
+The very bottom and the soul of hope, 50 
+The very list, the very utmost bound 
+
+Of all our fortunes. 
+
+Doug. ‘Faith, and so we should; 
+Where now remains a sweet reversion: 
+
++ We may boldly spend upon the hope of what 
+Is to come in: * 
+A comfort of retirement lives in this. 
+
+Hot. A rendezvous, a home to fly unto, 
+If that the devil and mischance look big 
+Upon the maidenhead of our affairs. 
+
+Wor. But yet I would your father had 
+
+been here. 60 
+The quality and hair of our attempt 
+Brooks no division: it will be thought 
+By some, that know not why he is away, 
+That wisdom, loyalty and mere dislike 
+Of our proceedings kept the earl from hence: 
+And think how such an apprehension 
+May turn the tide of fearful faction 
+And breed a kind of question in our cause; 
+For well you know we of the offering side 
+Must keep aloof from strict arbitrement, 70 
+And stop all sight-holes, every loop from 
+
+whence 
+The eye of reason may pry in upon us: 
+This absence of your father’s draws a curtain, 
+That shows the ignorant a kind of fear 
+Before not dreamt of. 
+Hot. You strain too far. 
+I rather of his absence make this use: 
+It lends a lustre and more great opinion, 
+A larger dare to our great enterprise, 
+Than if the earl were here; for men must 
+think, 
+If we without his help can make a head 80 
+To push against a kingdom, with his help 
+We shall o’erturn it topsy-turvy down. 
+Yet all goes well, yet all our joints are whole. 
+
+Doug. As heart can think: there is not 
+
+such a word 
+Spoke of in Scotland as this term of fear. 
+
+
+Enter Sir RicHarpD VERNON. 
+
+
+Hot. My cousin Vernon! welcome, by my 
+soul. 
+Ver. Pray God my news be worth a wel- 
+come, lord. 
+The Earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand 
+strong, 
+Is marching hitherwards; with him Prince 
+John. 
+Hot. No harm: what more? 
+Ver. And further, I have learn’d, 90 
+The king himself in person is set forth, 
+Or hitherwards intended speedily, 
+With strong and mighty preparation. 
+
+
+Hot. He shall be welcome too. Where s 
+his son, 
+The nimble-footed madcap Prince of Wales, 
+And his comrades, that daff’d the world aside, 
+And bid it pass? 
+
+Ver. All furnish’d, all in arms; 
++ All plumed like estridges that with the wind 
+Baited like eagles having lately bathed; 
+Glittering in golden coats, | ke images; 100 
+As full of spirit as the month of May, 
+
+And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer; 
+
+Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls. 
+
+I saw young Harry, with his beaver on, 
+
+His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm’'d, 
+
+Rise from the ground like feather’d Mercury, 
+
+And vaulted with such ease into his seat, 
+
+As if an angel dropp’d down from the clouds, 
+
+To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus 
+
+And witch the world with noble horseman- 
+ship. 
+
+Hot. No more, no more: worse than the 
+
+sun in March, 111 
+This praise doth nourish agues. Let them 
+come; 
+They come like sacrifices in their trim, 
+And to the fire-eyed maid of smoky war 
+All hot and bleeding will we offer them: 
+The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit 
+Up to the ears in blood. I am on fire 
+To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh 
+And yet not ours. Come, let me taste my 
+horse, 
+Who is to bear me like a thunderbolt 120 
+Against the bosom of the Prince of Wales: 
+Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse, 
+Meet and ne’er part till one drop down a corse. 
+O that Glendower were come! 
+
+Ver. There is more news: 
+I learn'd in Worcester, as I rode along, 
+He cannot draw his power this fourteen days. 
+
+Doug. That's the worst tidings. that | hear 
+
+of yet. 
+
+Wor. Ay, by my faith, that bears a frosty 
+
+sound, 
+
+Hot. What may the king’s whole battle 
+
+reach unto? 
+
+Ver. To thirty thousand. 
+
+Hot. Forty let it be: 130 
+My father and Glendower being both away, 
+The powers of us may serve so great a day. 
+Come, let us take a muster speedily: 
+Doomsday is near; die all, die merrily. 
+
+Doug. Talk not of dying: I am out of fear 
+Of death or death's hand for this one-half 
+
+
+year. [Exeunt, 
+
+Scene II. A public road near Coventry, 
+Enter FatstarF and BarDOoLpH. 
+
+Fal. Bardolph, get thee before to Caven- 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. III] FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY IV 495. 
+
+
+try; fill me a bottle of sack: our soldiers 
+\ shall march through; we'll to Sutton Co’fil’ 
+to-night. 
+
+Bard. Will you give me money, captain? 
+
+Fal. Lay out, lay out. 
+
+Bard. This bottle makes an angel. 
+
+Fal. An if it do, take it for thy labour; 
+and if it make twenty, take them all; I ‘Il 
+answer the coinage. Bid my lieutenant Peto 
+meet me at town’s end. 10 
+
+Bard. 1 will, captain: farewell. 
+
+Fal. If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I 
+am a soused gurnet. I have misused the king’s 
+press damnably. I have got, in exchange of a 
+hundred and fifty soldiers, three hundred and 
+odd pounds. I press me none but good house- 
+_ nolders, yeomen’s sons; inquire me out con- 
+tracted bachelors, such as had been asked twice 
+on the banns; such a commodity of warm 
+_ alaves, as had as lieve hear the devil as a 
+~ drum; such as fear the report of a caliver 
+worse than a struck fowl or a hurt wild-duck. 
+I pressed me none but such toasts-and-butter, 
+w.th hearts in their bellies no bigger than pins’ 
+heads, and they have bought out their serv- 
+ices; and now my whole charge consists of 
+ancients, corporals, lieutenants, gentlemen of 
+companies, slaves as ragged as Lazarus in the 
+painted cloth, where the glutton’s dogs licked 
+his sores; and such as indeed were never 
+soldiers, but discarded unjust serving-men, 
+younger sons to younger brothers, revolted 
+tapsters and ostlers trade-fallen, the cankers 
+of a calm world and a long peace, ten times 
+more dishonourable ragged than an old faced 
+ancient: and such have I, to fill up the rooms 
+of them that have bought out their services, 
+that you would think that I had a hundred and 
+Gfty tattered prodigals lately come from swine- 
+keeping, from eating draff and husks. A mad 
+fellow met me on the way and told me I| had 
+unloaded all the gibbets and pressed the dead 
+bodies. No eye hath seen such scarcecrows. 
+I'll not march through Coventry with them, 
+that’s flat: nay, and the villains march wide 
+betwixt the legs, as if they had gyves on; for 
+indeed I had the most of them out of prison. 
+There’s but a shirt and a half in all my 
+company; and the half shirt is two napkins 
+tacked together and thrown over the shoulders 
+lke a herald’s coat without sleeves; and the 
+shirt, to say the truth, stolen from my host at 
+Saint Alban’s, or the red-nose innkeeper of 
+Daventry. But that’s all one; they'll find 
+linen enough on every hedge. 
+
+
+Enter the 
+
+
+Prince. How now, blown Jack! how now, 
+guilt! 
+
+
+Prince and WESTMORELAND. 
+
+
+[Exit.. 
+
+
+Fal. What, Hal! how now, mad wag! 
+what a devil dost thou in Warwickshire? My 
+good Lord of Westmoreland, I cry you 
+mercy: I thought your honour had already 
+been at Shrewsbury. 59 
+
+West. Faith, Sir John, ‘tis more than time 
+that I were there, and you too; but my powers 
+are there already. The king, I can tell you, 
+looks for us all: we must away all night. 
+
+Fal. Tut, never fear me: I am as vigilant 
+as a cat to steal cream. 
+
+Prince. 1 think, to steal cream indeed, for 
+thy theft hath already made thee butter. But 
+tell me, Jack, whose fellows are these that 
+come after? 
+
+Fal. Mine, Hal, mine. 69 
+
+Prince. 1 did never see such pitiful rascals. 
+
+Fal. Tut, tut; good enough to toss; food 
+for powder, food for powder; they ‘Il fill a pit 
+as well as better: tush, man, mortal men, 
+mortal men. 
+
+West. Ay, but, Sir John, methinks they 
+are exceeding poor and bare, too beggarly. 
+
+Fal. ‘Faith, for their poverty, I know not 
+where they had that; and for their bareness, I 
+am sure they never learned that of me. 
+
+Prince. No, Ill be sworn; unless you call 
+three fingers on the ribs bare. But, sirrah, 
+make haste: Percy is already in the field. 8] 
+
+Fal. What, is the king encamped? 
+
+West. He is, Sir John: I fear we shall 
+stay too long. 
+
+Fal. Well, . 
+
+To the latter end of a fray and the beginning 
+of a feast 
+Fits a dull fighter and a keen guest. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. The rebel camp near Shrewsbury. 
+Enter Hotspur, WercesTtER, DoucLas, and 
+VERNON. 
+
+
+Hot. We'll fight with him to-night. 
+W or. It may not be. 
+Doug. You give him then advantage. 
+
+
+Ver. Not a whit. 
+
+Hot. Why say you so? looks he not for 
+supply ? 
+
+Ver. So do we. 
+
+Hot. His is certain, ours is doubtful. 
+
+Wor. Good cousins, be advised; stir not 
+to-night. 
+
+Ver. Do not, my lord, 
+
+Doug. You do not counsel well: 
+
+
+You speak it out of fear and cold heart. 
+Ver. Do me no slander, Douglas: by my 
+life, 
+And I dare well maintain it with my life, 
+If well-respected honour bid me on, 
+I hold as little counsel with weak fear 
+
+
+496 
+
+
+FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+As you my lord, or any Scot that this day 
+lives: 
+Let it be seen to-morrow in the battle 
+Which of us fears. 
+Yea, or to-night. 
+Content. 
+Hot. To-night, say I. 
+Ver. Come, come, it may not be. I won- 
+der much, 
+Being men of such great leading as you are, 
+That you foresee not what impediments 
+Drag back our expedition: certan horse 
+Of my cousin Vernon's are not yet come up: 
+Your uncle Worcester’s-horse came but to- 
+day; 
+And now their pride and mettle is asleep, 
+Their courage with hard labour tame and dull, 
+That not a horse is half the half of himself. 
+Hot. So are the horses of the enemy 
+In general, journey-bated and brought low: 
+The better part of ours are full of rest. 
+Wor. The number of the king exceedeth 
+ours: 
+For God's sake, cousin, stay till all come in. 
+[The trumpet sounds a parley. 
+
+
+Enter Sir Water Bunt. 
+
+
+Blunt. 1 come with gracious offers from 
+the king, 30 
+If you vouchsafe me hearing and respect. 
+Hot. Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt; and 
+would to God 
+You were of our determination! 
+Some of us love you well; and even those 
+some 
+Envy your great deservings and good name, 
+Because you are not of our quality, 
+But siand against us like an enemy. 
+Blunt. And God defend but still I should 
+stand so, 
+So long as out of limit and true rule 
+You stand against anointed majesty. 40 
+But to my charge. The king hath sent to 
+know 
+The nature of your griefs, and whereupon 
+You conjure from the breasts of civil peace 
+Such bold hostility, teaching his duteous land 
+Audacious cruelty. If that the king 
+Have any way your good deserts forgot, 
+Which he confesseth to be manifold, 
+He bids you name your griefs; and with all 
+speed 
+You shall have your desires with interest 
+And pardon absolute for yourself and these 
+Herein misled by your suggestion. 
+Hot. The king is kind; and well we know 
+the king 
+Knows at what time to promise, when to pay. 
+My father and my uncle and myself 
+
+
+KING HENRY IV [Acr IV, Sc. Hl 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+Did give h'm that same royalty he wears; 
+
+And when he was not six and twenty strong 
+
+Sick in the world’s regard, wretched and low, 
+
+A poor unminded outlaw sneaking home, | 
+
+My father gave him welcome to the shore; 
+
+And when he heard him swear and vow to 
+
+God 
+
+He came but to be Duke of Lancaster, 61 
+
+To sue his livery and beg his peace, 
+
+With tears of innocency and terms of zeal, 
+
+My father, in kind heart and pity moved, 
+
+Swore-him assistance and perform'd it too. 
+
+Now when the lords and barons of the realm 
+
+Perceived Northumberland did lean to him, 
+
+The more and less came in with cap and knee; 
+
+Met him in boroughs, cities, villages, 
+
+Attended him on bridges, stood in lanes, 70 
+
+Laid gifts before him, proffer’d him their 
+
+oaths, 
+
+Gave him their heirs, as pages follow’d him 
+
+Even at the heels in golden multitudes. 
+
+He presently, as greatness knows itself, 
+
+Steps me a little higher than his vow ; 
+
+Made to my father, while his blood was poor, 
+
+Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurgh; 
+
+And now, forsooth, takes on him to reform 
+
+Some certain edicts and some strait decrees 
+
+That lie too heavy on the commonwealth, 80 
+
+Cries out upon abuses, seems to weep 
+
+Over his country’s wrongs; and by this face, 
+
+This seeming brow of justice, did he win 
+
+The hearts of al! that he did angle for; 
+
+Proceeded turther; cut me off the heads 
+
+Of all the favdurites that the absent king 
+
+In deputation left behind him here, 
+
+When he was personal in the Irish war. 
+Blunt. Tut, I came not to hear this. 
+Hot. Then to. the point. 
+
+Tn short time after, he deposed the king; 90 
+
+Soon after that, deprived him of his life; 
+
+And in. the neck of that, task’d the whole 
+
+state; 
+
+To make that worse, suffer'd his kinsman 
+
+March, 
+
+Who is, if every owner were well placed, 
+
+Indeed his king, to be engaged in Wales, 
+
+There without ransom to lie forfeited; 
+
+Disgraced me in my happy victories, 
+
+Sought to entrap me by intelligence; 
+
+Rated mine uncle from the council-board; 
+
+In rage dism’ss'd my father from the court; 
+
+Broke oath on oath, committed wrong on 
+
+wrong, 
+
+And in conclusion drove us to seek out 
+
+This head of safety; and withal to pry 
+
+Into his title, the which we find 
+
+Too indirect for long continuance. 
+
+Blunt. Shall I return this answer to the 
+king? 
+
+
+aa 
+
+
+“Act V, Sc. I] 
+
+
+FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+497 
+
+
+Se 
+
+
+Hot. Not so, Sir Walter: we'll withdraw 
+awhile. 
+Go to the king; and let there be impawn’d 
+Some surety for a safe return again, 
+And in the morning early shall my uncle 110 
+‘Bring him our purposes: and so farewell. 
+Blunt. 1 would you would accept of grace 
+and. love. 
+Hot, And may be so we shall. 
+Blunt. Pray God you do. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. York. The ARcHBISHOP’s 
+palace. 
+
+
+Enter the ArcHBisHop OF YORK and 
+Sir MicHaet. 
+
+
+Arch. Hie, good Sir Michael; bear this 
+sealed brief 
+_ With winged haste to the lord marshal; 
+
+This is my cous.n Scroop, and all the rest 
+To whom they are drected. If you knew 
+How much they do import, you would make 
+
+haste. 
+_. Sir M.. My good lord, 
+I guess their tenour. 
+
+Arch. Like enough you do. 
+To-morrow, good Sir Michael, is a day 
+Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men 
+Must bide the touch; for, sir, at Shrewsbury, 
+As I am truly given to understand, 1] 
+The king with mighty and quick-raised power 
+Meets with Lord Harry: and I fear, Sir 
+
+Michael, 
+What with the sickness of Northumberland, 
+Whose power was in the first proportion, 
+And what with Owen Glendower’s absence 
+thence, 5 : 
+Who with them was a rated sinew too 
+And comes not in, o’er-ruled by prophecies, 
+I fear the power of Percy is too weak 
+To wage an instant trial with the king. 20 
+Sir M. Why, my good lord, you need not 
+fear; 
+There is Douglas and Lord Mortimer. 
+Arch. No, Mortimer is not there. — . 
+Sir M. But there is Mordake, Vernon, 
+Lord Harry Percy, 
+And there is my Lord of Worcester and a 
+head 
+Of gallant warriors, noble gentlemen. 
+Arch. And so there is: but yet the king 
+hath drawn 
+The special head of all the land together: 
+The Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lan- 
+caster, 
+The noble Westmoreland and warlike Blunt; 
+And many moe corrivals and dear men 
+Of estimation and command in arms. 
+
+
+Al 
+
+
+Sir M. Doubt not, my lord, they shall be 
+well opposed. . 
+Arch. 1 hope no less, yet needful “tis to 
+fear; 
+And, to prevent the worst, Sir Michael, speed: 
+For if Lord Percy thrive not, ere the king 
+Dismiss his power, he means to visit us, 
+For he hath heard of our confederacy, 
+And ‘tis but wisdom to make strong against 
+him: ' 3 
+Therefore make haste. I must go write again 
+To other friends; and so farewell, Sir Michael. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT V. 
+
+
+Scene I. The Kine’s camp near Shrewsbury. 
+
+
+Enter the Kinc, Prince of Wa tes, Lorp 
+Joun or Lancaster, Ear or WEsT- 
+MORELAND, SIR WaLTER BLUNT, and 
+FALSTAFF. 
+
+
+King. How bloodily the sun begins to peer 
+Above yon busky hill! the day looks pale 
+At his distemperature. 
+
+Prince. The southern wind 
+Doth play the trumpet to his purposes, 
+
+And by his hollow whistling in the leaves 
+Foretells a tempest and a blustering day. 
+King. Then with the losers let it sympa- 
+thise, 
+For nothing can seem foul to those that win. 
+[The trumpet sounds. 
+
+
+Enter WorcESTER and VERNON. 
+
+
+How now, my Lord of Worcester! ‘tis not 
+well 
+That you and I should meet upon such terms 
+As now we meet. You have deceived our 
+trust, 
+And made us doff our easy robes of peace, 
+To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel: 
+This is not well, my lord, this is not well. 
+What say you to it? will you again unknit 
+This churlish knot of all-abhorred war? 
+And move in that obedient orb again 
+Where you did give a fair and natural light, 
+And be no more an exhaled meteor, 
+A prodigy of fear and a portent 26 
+Of broached mischief to the unborn times? 
+Wor. Hear me, my liege: 
+For mine own part, I could be well content 
+To entertain the lag-end of my life 
+With quiet hours; for I do protest, 
+I have not sought the day of this dislike. 
+King. You have not sought it! how comes 
+it then? 
+Fal. Rebellion lay in his way, and he 
+found it. 
+Prince. Peace, chewet, peace! 
+
+
+~ 
+
+
+498 FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY IV [Acr V, Sc. I 
+
+
+Wor. 
+
+looks 
+
+Of favour from myself and all our house; 
+
+And yet I must remember you, my lord, 
+
+We were the first and dearest of your friends. 
+
+For you my staff of office did I break 
+
+In Richard's time; and posted day and night 
+
+To meet you on the way, and kiss-your hand, 
+
+When yet you were in place and in account 
+
+Nothing so strong and fortunate as I. 
+
+It was myself, my brother and his son, 
+
+That brought you home and boldly did outdare 
+
+The dangers of the time. You swore to us, 41 
+
+And you did swear that oath at Doncaster, 
+
+That you did nothing purpose ‘gainst the 
+state; 
+
+Nor clam no further than your new-fall’n 
+right, 
+
+The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster: 
+
+To this we swore our aid. But in short space 
+
+It rain’d down fortune showering on your 
+head; 
+
+And such a flood of greatness fell on you, 
+
+What with our help, what with the absent 
+king, 
+
+What with the injuries of a wanton time, 50 
+
+The seeming sufferances that you had borne, 
+
+And the contrarious winds that held the king 
+
+So long in his unlucky Irish wars 
+
+That all in England did repute him dead: 
+
+And from this swarm of fair advantages 
+
+You took occasion to be quickly woo'd 
+
+To gripe the general sway into your hand; 
+
+Forgot your oath to us at Doncaster; 
+
+And being fed by us you used us so 
+
+As that ungentle gull, the cuckoo’s bird, 60 
+
+Useth the sparrow; did oppress our nest; 
+
+Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk 
+
+That even our love durst not come near your 
+sight 
+
+For fear of swallowing; but with nimble wing 
+
+We were enforced, for safety sake, to fly 
+
+Out of your sight and raise this present head; 
+
+Whereby we stand opposed by such means 
+
+As you yourself have forged against yourself 
+
+By unkind usage, dangerous countenance, 
+
+And violation of all faith and troth 70 
+
+Sworn to us in your younger enterprise. 
+
+King. These things indeed you have ar- 
+
+ticulate, 
+
+Proclaim’d at market-crosses, read in churches, 
+
+To face the garment of rebellion 
+
+With some fine colour that may please the eye 
+
+Of fickle changelings and poor discontents, 
+
+Which gape and rub the elbow at the news 
+
+Of hurlyburly innovation: 
+
+And never yet did insurrection want 
+
+Such water-colours to impaint his cause; 
+
+Nor moody beggars, starving for a time 
+
+
+It pleased your majesty to turn your 
+30 
+
+
+80 
+
+
+Of pellmell havoc and confusion. 
+Prince. In both your armies there is many 
+a soul 
+Shall pay full dearly for this encounter, 
+If once they join in trial. Tell your nephew, 
+The Prince of Wales doth join with all the 
+world 
+In praise of Henry Percy: by my hopes, 
+This present enterprise set off his head, 
+I do not thnk a braver gentleman, 
+More active-valiant or more valiant-young, 90 
+More daring or more bold, is now alive 
+To grace this latter age with noble deeds. 
+For my part, I may speak it to my shame, 
+I have a truant been to chivalry; 
+And so I hear he doth account me too; 
+Yet this before my father’s majesty— 
+I am content that he shall take the odds 
+Of his great name and estimation, 
+And will, to save the blood on either side, 
+Try fortune with h'm in a single fight. 100 
+King. And Prince of Wales, so dare we 
+venture thee, 
+Albeit considerations infinite 
+Do make against it. No, good Worcester, no, 
+We love our people well; even those we love 
+That are misled upon“ your cousin's part; 
+And, will they take the offer of our grace, 
+Both he and they and you, yea, every man 
+Shall be my friend again and I'll be his: 
+So tell your cousin, and bring me word 
+What he will do: but if he will not yield, 110 
+Rebuke and dread correction wait on us 
+And they shall do their office. So, be gone; 
+We will not now be troubled with reply: 
+We offer fair; take it advisedly. 
+[Exeunt Worcester and Vernon, 
+Prince. It will not be accepted, on my life: 
+The Douglas and the Hotspur both together 
+Are confident against the world in arms. 
+King. Hence, therefore, every leader to his 
+charge; i 
+For, on their answer, will we set on them: 
+And God befriend us, as our cause is just! 120 
+[Exeunt all bui the Prince of Wales and 
+Falstaff. 
+Fal. Hal, if thou see me down in the battle 
+and bestride me, so; ‘tis a point of friendship. 
+Prince. Nothing but a colossus can do thee 
+that friendship. Say thy prayers, and farewell. 
+Fal. I would ‘twere bed-time, Hal, and all 
+well. 
+Prince. Why, thou owest God a death. 
+[Exit. 
+Fal. "Tis not due yet; I would be loath to 
+pay him before his day. What need I be so 
+forward with him that calls not on me? Well, 
+‘tis no matter; honour pricks me on. Yea, but 
+how if honour prick me off when I come on? 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. II] FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+how then? Can honour set to a leg? no: or 
+an arm? no: or take away the grief of 2 
+wound? no. Honour hath no skill in surgery, 
+then? no. What is honour? a word. What is 
+in that word honour? what is that honour? air. 
+A trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died 
+o’ Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he 
+hear it? no. "Tis insensible, then? Yea, to 
+the dead. But will it not live with the living ? 
+no. Why? detraction will not suffer it. 
+Therefore I ‘Il none of it. Honour is a mere 
+scutcheon: and so ends my catechism, [Exit. 
+
+
+Scene II. The rebel camp. 
+
+
+Enter WorcESTER and VERNON. 
+
+
+Wor. O, no, my nephew must not know, 
+Sir Richard, 
+The liberal and kind offer of the king. 
+Ver. “Twere best he did. 
+W or. Then are we all undone. 
+
+It is not possible, it cannot be, 
+
+The king should keep his word in loving us; 
+
+He will suspect us still and find a time 
+
+To punish this offence in other faults: 
+
+Suspicion all our lives shall be stuck full of 
+
+eyes; 
+
+For treason is but trusted like the fox, 
+
+Who, ne'er so tame, so cherish’d and lock’d 
+
+up, 
+
+Will have a wild trick of h’s ancestors. 11 
+Look how we can, or sad or merrily, 
+Interpretation will misquote our looks, 
+
+And we shall feed like oxen at a stall, 
+
+The better cherish’d, still the nearer death. 
+My nephew's trespass may be well forgot; 
+
+It hath the excuse of youth and heat of blood, 
+And an adocted name of privilege, 
+
+A hare-brain’d Hotspur, govern’d by a spleen: 
+All his’ offences-live upon my head 20 
+And on his father’s;’ we did train him on, 
+
+‘And, his corrupton being ta’en from us, 
+We, as the spring of all, shall pay for all. 
+Therefore, good cousin, let not Harry know, 
+In any case, the offer of the king. 
+
+Ver. Deliver what you will; I ‘Il say tis so. 
+Here comes your cousin. 
+
+
+Enter Hotspur and Dovusc.as. 
+
+
+Hot. My uncle is return’d: 
+Deliver up my Lord of Westmoreland. 
+Uncle, what news? 30 
+Wor. The king will bid you battle pres- 
+ently. 
+Doug. Defy him by the Lord of West- 
+moreland. 
+Hot. Lord Douglas, go you and tell him so. 
+Doug. Marry, and shall, and very will- 
+ingly. [Exit. 
+
+
+KING HENRY IV 499 
+
+
+Wor. There is no seeming mercy in the 
+king. 
+
+Hot. Did you beg any? God forbid! 
+Wor. 1 told him gently of our grievances, 
+Of his oath-breaking; which he mended thus, 
+
+By now forswearing that he is forsworn: 
+
+He calls us rebels, traitors; and will scourge 
+
+With haughty arms this hateful name in us. 
+
+Re-enter Douc.as. 
+Doug. Arm, gentlemen: to arms! 
+have thrown 
+
+A brave defiance in King Henry’s teeth, 
+
+And Westmoreland, that was engaged, did 
+
+bear it; 
+
+Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on. 
+Wor. The Prince of Wales stepp'd forth 
+
+before the king, 
+
+And, nephew, challenged you to single fight. 
+Hot. O, would the quarrel lay upon our 
+
+heads, 
+
+And that no man might draw short breath 
+
+to-day 
+
+But I and Harry Monmouth! Tell me, tell 
+
+me, 
+
+How show'd his tasking? seem’d it in con- 
+tempt? 51 
+Ver. No, by my soul; I never in my life 
+
+Did hear a challenge urged more modestly, 
+
+Unless a brother should a brother dare 
+
+To gentle exercise and proof of arms. 
+
+He gave you all the duties of a man; 
+
+Trimm’d up your praises with a princely 
+
+tongue, 
+
+Spoke your deservings like a chronicle, 
+
+Making you ever better than his praise 
+
+By still dispraising praise valued with you; 
+
+And, which became him like a prince indeed, 
+
+He made a blushing cital of himself; 
+
+And chid his truant youth with such a grace 
+
+As if he master’d there a double spirit 
+
+Of teaching and of learning instantly. 
+
+There did he pause: but let me tell the world, 
+
+If he outlive the envy of this day, 
+
+England did never owe so sweet a hope, 
+
+So much misconstrued in his wantonness. 
+Hot. Cousin, I think thou art enamoured 
+
+On his follies: never did I hear 
+
+Of any prince, so wild a |’bertine. 
+
+But be he as he will, yet once ere night 
+
+I will embrace him with a soldier’s arm, 
+
+That he shall shrink under my courtesy. 
+
+Arm, arm with speed: and, fellows, soldiers, 
+é friends, 
+
+Better consider what you have to do 
+
+Than I, that have not well the gift of tongue, 
+
+Can lift your blood up with persuasion. 
+
+
+for | 
+
+
+! 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+Mess. My lord. here are letters for you. 
+
+
+Ti 
+
+
+500 
+
+
+A Le OS ed en ee 
+£3 SPL aes phe oo 
+
+
+FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV [Acr V, Se. Ill 
+
+
+Hot. 1 cannot read them now. 
+O gentlemen, the time of life is short! 
+To spend that shortness basely were too long, 
+If life dd ride upon a dial’s point, 
+Still ending at the arrival of an hour. 
+And if we live, we live to tread on kings; 
+If die, brave death, when princes die with 
+
+us! 
+
+Now, for our consciences, the arms are fair, 
+When the intent of bearing them is just. 
+
+
+Enter another Messenger. 
+Mess. My lord, prepare; the king comes 
+
+
+on apace. 90 
+Hot. J thank him, that he cuts me from 
+my tale, 
+
+
+For I profess not talking; only this— 
+Let each man do his best: and here draw | 
+A sword, whose temper | intend to stain 
+With the best blood that I can aeet withal 
+In the adventure of this perilous day. 
+Now, Esperance! Percy! and set on. 
+Sound all the lofty instruments of war, 
+And by that music let us all embrace; 
+For, heaven to earth, some of us never shall 
+A second time do such a courtesy. 
+
+[The trumpets sound. They embrace, and 
+
+exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene III]. Plain between the camps. 
+
+
+The Kinec enters with his power. Alarum to 
+the batile. Then enter Doucias and Sir 
+Water Biunt. 
+
+
+Blunt. What is thy name, that in the battle 
+thus 
+Thou crossest me? what honour dost thou seek 
+Upon my head? 
+
+Doug. Know then, my name is Douglas; 
+And I do haunt thee in the battle thus 
+Because some tell me that thou art a king. 
+
+Blunt. They tell thee true. 
+
+Doug. The Lord of Stafford dear to-day 
+
+hath bought 
+Thy likeness, for instead of thee, King Harry, 
+This sword hath ended him: so shall it thee, 
+Unless thou yield thee as my prisoner. 10 
+Blunt. | was not born a yielder, thou 
+proud Scot; 
+And thou shalt find a king that will revenge 
+Lord Stafford’s death. [They fight. Douglas 
+kills Blunt. 
+Enter Hotspur. 
+Hot. O Douglas, hadst thou fought at 
+Holmedon thus, ; 
+1 never had triumph’d upon a Scot. 
+
+Doug. All’s done, all’s won; here breath- 
+
+less lies the king. 
+
+Hot. Where? 
+
+Doug. Here. 
+
+
+J 
+
+
+Hot. This, Douglas? no: I know this face 
+full well: 
+A gallant knight he was, his name was Blunt; 
+Semblaby furnish'd like the kng himself. 2] 
+Doug. A fool go with thy soul, whither it 
+goes! 
+A borrow’d title hast thou bought too dear: 
+Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a 
+
+
+king > 
+
+Hot. The king hath many marching in his 
+coats. 
+
+Doug. Now, by my sword, | will kill all 
+his coats; 
+
+
+I ‘ll murder all his wardrobe, piece by piece, 
+Until I meet the king. 
+
+Hot. Up, and away! 
+Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day. 29 © 
+
+
+[Exeunt. 
+Alarum. Enter FAuLstaFF, solus. 
+
+
+Fal. Though I could ‘scape shot-free at 
+London, I fear the shot here; here ’s, no scor- 
+ing but upon the pate. Soft! who are you? 
+Sir Walter Blunt: there ’s an honour for you! 
+here’s no vanity! I am as hot as molten lead, 
+and as heavy too: God keep lead out of me! 
+I need no more weight than mine own bowels. 
+i have led my ragamuffins where they are 
+peppered; there ’s not three of my hundred 
+and fifty left alive; and they are for the 
+
+
+town’s end, to beg during life. But who 
+
+comes here? 40 
+Enter the PRINCE. 
+
+Prince. What, stand’st thou idle here? 
+
+
+lend me thy sword: 
+Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff 
+Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies, 
+Whose deaths are yet unrevenged: I prithee, 
+lend me thy sword. 
+
+Fal. O, Hal, I prithee, give me leave to 
+breathe awhile. Turk Gregory never did such 
+deeds in arms as I have done this day. I 
+have paid Percy, I have made him sure. 
+
+Prince. He is, indeed; and living to kill 
+thee. I prithee, lend me thy sword. 50 
+
+Fal. Nay, before God, Hal, if Percy be 
+alive, thou get’st not my sword; but take my 
+pistol, if thou wilt. 
+
+Prince. Give it me: what, is it in the case? 
+
+Fal. Ay, Hal; ‘tis hot, “tis hot; there 's 
+that will sack a city. [The Prince draws it 
+
+oul, and finds it to be a bottle of sack. 
+
+Prince. What, is it a time to jest and 
+dally now? [He throws the bottle at him. 
+
+Exit, 
+
+Fal. Well, if Percy be alive, I'll pierce 
+him. If he do come in my way, so: if he 
+do not, if I come in his willingly, let him 
+make a carbonado of me. I like not such 
+
+
+” Abr V, Se. IV] 
+
+
+FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+501 
+
+
+"grinning honour as Sir Walter hath: give me 
+life: which if I can save, so; if not, honour 
+comes unlooked for, and there's an end. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+Scene IV. Another part of the field. 
+
+
+Alarum. Excursions. Enter the Kine, the 
+Prince, Lorp JoHN oF LANCASTER, and 
+Eart orf WESTMORELAND. 
+
+King, I prithee, 
+
+Harry, withdraw thyself; 
+
+much. 
+
+Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him. 
+Lan. Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed 
+
+too. 
+Prince. I beseech your majesty, make up, 
+
+Lest your retirement do amaze your friends. 
+King. I will do so. 
+
+My Lord of Westmoreland, lead him to his 
+
+
+thou bleed’st too 
+
+
+tent. 
+West. Come, my lord, I'll lead you to 
+your tent. 
+Prince. Lead me, my lord? [| do not need 
+your help: - 10 
+And God forbid a shallow scratch should 
+drive 
+
+
+The Prince of Wales from such a field as this, 
+Where stain’d nobility lies trodden on, 
+And rebels’ arms triumph in massacres! 
+Lan. We breathe too long: come, cousin 
+Westmoreland, 
+Our duty this way lies; for God’s sake, come. 
+[Exeunt Prince John and Westmoreland. 
+Prince. By God, thou hast deceived me, 
+Lancaster; 
+I did not think thee lord of such a spirit: 
+Before, I loved thee as a brother, John; 
+But now, I do respect thee as my soul. 20 
+King. 1 saw him hold Lord Percy at the 
+point 
+With lustier maintenance than | did look for 
+Of such an ungrown warrior. 
+Prince. O, this boy 
+Lends mettle to us all! [Exit. 
+
+
+Enter Douctas. 
+
+
+Doug. Another 
+Hydra’s heads: 
+I am the Douglas, fatal to all those 
+That wear those colours on them: what art 
+thou, 
+That counterfeit’st the person of a king? 
+King. The king himself; who, Douglas, 
+grieves at heart 
+So many of his shadows thou hast met 30 
+And not the very king. I have two boys 
+Seek Percy and thyself about the field: 
+But, seeing thou fall’st on me so luckily, 
+] will assay thee: so. defend thyself. 
+
+
+king! they grow like 
+
+
+Doug. I fear thou art another counterfeit; 
+death in faith, thou bear’st thee like a 
+ing: 
+But mnd I am sure thou art, whoe’er thou be, 
+And thus I win thee. [They fight; the King 
+being in danger, re-enter Prince of Wales, 
+Prince. Hold up thy head, vile Scot, or 
+thou art like 
+Never to hold it up again! the spirits 40 
+Of valiant Shirley, Stafford, Blunt, are in my 
+arms: 
+It is the Prince of Wales that threatens thee; 
+Who never promiseth but he means to pay. 
+[They fight: Douglas flies. 
+Cheerly, my lord: how fares your grace? 
+Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succour sent, 
+And so hath Clifton: I'll to Clifton straight. 
+King. Stay, and breathe awhile: 
+Thou hast redeem’d thy lost opinion, 
+And show'd thou makest some tender of my 
+life, 
+In this fair rescue thou hast broughttome. 50 
+Prince. O God! they did me too much in- 
+ur 
+That ever said I hearken’d for your death. 
+If it were so, I might have let alone 
+The insulting hand of Douglas over you, 
+Which would have been as speedy in your 
+end 
+As all the poisonous potions in the world 
+And saved the treacherous labour of your son. 
+King. Make up to Clifton: I'll to Sir 
+Nicholas Gawsey. [Exit. 
+
+
+Enter Hotspur. 
+
+
+Hot. If I mistake not, 
+Monmouth. 
+Prince. Thou speak'st as if I would deny 
+my name. 60 
+Hot. My name is Harry Percy. 
+Prince. Why, then I see 
+A very valiant rebel of the name. 
+I am the Prince of Wales; and think not, 
+Percy, 
+To share with me in glory any more: 
+Two stars keep not their motion in one~ 
+sphere; 
+Nor can one England brook a double reign, 
+Of Harry Percy and the Prince of Wales. 
+Hot. Nor shall it, Harry; for the hour is 
+come 
+To end the one of us; and would to God 
+Thy name in arms were now as great as 
+mine! 
+Prince. I'll make it greater ere I part 
+from thee; 7 
+And all the budding honours on thy crest 
+
+
+thou art Harry 
+
+
+I'll crop, to make a garland for my head. 
+
+
+502° FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+KING HENRY IV {Acr V, Sc. IV 
+
+
+Hot. 
+
+
+I can no longer brook thy vanities. 
+
+
+{They fight. 
+Enter FavstarFF. 
+
+
+Fal. Well said, Hal! to it, Hal! Nay, 
+you shall find no boy’s play here, I can tell 
+you. 
+
+Re-enter Doucias; he fights with FAaLsTaFF, 
+who falls down as if he were dead, and exit 
+
+Douctas. Hotspur is wounded, and falls. 
+
+
+Hot. O, Harry, thou hast robb’d me of my 
+youth! 
+1 better brook the loss of brittle life 
+Than those proud titles thou hast won of me; 
+They wound my thoughts worse than thy 
+sword my flesh: 8 
+But thought’s the slave of life, and life 
+time’s fool; 
+And time, that takes survey of all the world, 
+Must have a stop. O, I could prophesy, 
+But that the earthy and cold hand of death 
+Lies on my tongue: no, Percy, thou art dust, 
+And food for— [Dies. 
+Prince. For worms, brave Percy: fare 
+thee well, great heart! 
+{ll-weaved ambition, how much 
+shrunk! 
+When that this body did contain a spirit, 
+A kingdom for it was too small a bound; 90 
+But now two paces of the vilest earth 
+s 100m enough: this earth that bears thee 
+dead 
+Bears not alive so stout a gentleman. 
+If thou wert senesible of courtesy, 
+I should not make so dear a show of zeal: 
+But let my favours hide thy mangled face; 
+And, even in thy behalf, I ‘Il thank myself 
+For doing these fair rites of tenderness. 
+Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to 
+heaven! 
+Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave, 100 
+But not remember’d in thy epitaph! 
+[He spieth Falstaff on the ground. 
+What, old acquaintance! could not all this 
+flesh 
+Keep in a little life? Poor Jack, farewell! 
+I could have better spared a better man: 
+O, I should have a heavy miss of thee, 
+If I were much in love with vanity! 
+Death hath not struck so fat a deer to-day, 
+Though many dearer, in this bloody fray. 
+Embowell’d will I see thee by and by: 
+Till then in blood by noble Percy lie. [Exit. 
+Fal. [Rising up] Embowelled! if thou em- 
+bowel me to-day, I'll give you leave to 
+powder me and eat me too to-morrow. 
+*Sblood, "twas time to connterfeit, or that hot 
+termagant Scot had paid me scot and lot 
+too, Counterfeit? I lie, I am no counterfeit: 
+
+
+thou art 
+
+
+to die, is to be a counterfeit; for he is but 
+the counterfeit of a man who hath not the life 
+of a man: but to counterfeit dying, when a 
+man thereby liveth, is to be no counterfeit, 
+but the true and perfect image of life indeed. 
+The better part of valour is discretion; in 
+the which better part I have saved my life, 
+*Zounds, I am afraid of this gunpowder 
+Percy, though he be dead: how, if he should 
+counterfeit too and rise? by my faith, I am 
+afraid he would prove the better counterfeit. 
+Therefore I ‘ll make him sure; yea, and I'll 
+swear I killed him. Why may not he rise 
+as well as 1? -Nothing confutes me but eyes, 
+and nobody sees me. ‘Therefore, sirrah 
+
+
+0 | [stabbing him], with a new wound in your 
+
+
+thigh, come you along with me. 
+
+
+[Takes up Hotspur on his back. 
+
+
+Re-enter the PRINCE OF WALES and Lorp 
+JoHN oF LANCASTER. 
+
+
+Prince. Come, brother John; full bravely 
+hast thou flesh’d 
+Thy maiden sword. 
+
+Lan. But, soft! whom have we here? 
+Did you not tell me this fat man was dead? 
+
+Prince. 1 did; 1 saw him dead, 
+Breathless and bleeding on the ground. Art 
+
+thou alive? 
+Or is it fantasy that plays upon our eyesight? 
+I prithee speak; we will not trust our eyes 
+Without our ears: thou art not what thou 
+seem’st. 140 
+
+Fal. No, that’s certain; I am not a 
+double man: but if I be not Jack Falstaff, 
+then am I a Jack. There is Percy [throm- 
+ing the body down]; if your father do me 
+any honour, so; ?f not, let him kill the next 
+Percy himself. I look to be either earl or 
+duke, I can assure you. 
+
+Prince. Why, Percy I killed myself and 
+
+saw thee dead. 
+
+Fal. Didst thou? Lord, Lord, how this 
+world is given to lying! I grant you I was 
+down and out of breath; and so was he: but 
+we rose both at an instant and fought a long 
+hour by Shrewsbury clock. If I may be be- 
+lieved, so; if not, let them that should re- 
+ward valour bear the sin upon their own 
+heads. I'll take it upon my death, I gave 
+him this wound in the thigh: if the man were 
+alive and would deny it, ‘zounds, | would 
+make him eat a piece of my sword. 
+
+Lan. This is the strangest tale that ever I 
+
+heard. 
+
+Prince. This is the strangest fellow, brother 
+
+John. 
+Come bring your luggage nobly on your back: 
+For my part, if a lie may do thee grace, 161 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. V] FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY IV 503 
+
+
+I'll gild it with the happiest terms I have. 
+
+
+[A retreat is sounded, 
+
+
+The trumpet sounds retreat; the day is ours. 
+Come, brother, let us to the highest of the field, 
+
+
+To see what friends are living, who are dead, 
+
+
+[Exeunt Prince of Wales and Lancaster. 
+
+
+Fal. I'll follow, as they say, for reward. 
+He that rewards me, God reward him! If I 
+do grow great, I'll grow less; for I'll purge, 
+and leave sack, and live cleanly as a nobleman 
+
+
+should do, [Exit. 
+
+
+ScENE V. Another part of the field. 
+
+
+The trumpets sound. Enter ithe Kinc, PRINCE 
+OF Wates, Lorp JoHN oF LANCASTER, 
+Eart oF WESTMORELAND, with WorcEs- 
+TER and VERNON prisoners. 
+
+
+King. Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke. 
+_ Ill-spirited Worcester! did not we send grace, 
+Pardon and terms of love to all of you? 
+And wouldst thou turn our offers contrary ? 
+Misuse the tenour of thy kinsman’s trust? 
+Three knights upon our party slain to-day, 
+A noble earl and many a creature else 
+Had been alive this hour, 
+If like a Christian thou hadst truly borne 
+Betwixt our armies true intelligence. 10 
+Wor. What I have done my safety urged 
+me to; 
+And I embrace this fortune patiently, 
+Since not to be avoided it falls on me. 
+King. Bear Worcester to the death and 
+Vernon too: 
+Other offenders we will pause upon. 
+[Exeunt Worcester and Vernon, guarded. 
+‘Tow goes the field? 
+
+
+Prince. The noble Scot, Lord Douglas, 
+when he saw 
+The fortune of the day quite turn'd from him, 
+The noble Percy slain, and all his men 
+Upon the foot of fear, fled with the rest; 20 
+And falling from a hill, he was so bruised 
+That the pursuers took him. At my tent 
+The Douglas is; and I beseech your grace 
+I may dispose of him. 
+King. With all my heart. 
+Prince. Then, brother John of Lancaster, 
+to you 
+This honourable bounty shall belong: 
+Go to the Douglas, and deliver him 
+Up to his pleasure, ransomless and free: 
+His valour shown upon our crests to-day 
+Hath taught us how to cherish such high deeds 
+Even in the bosom of our adversaries. 31 
+Lan. I thank your grace for this high 
+courtesy, 
+Which I shall give away immediately. 
+King. Then this remains, that we divide our 
+power. 
+You, son John, and my cousin Westmoreland 
+Towards York shall bend you with your 
+dearest speed, 
+To meet Northumberland and the prelate 
+Scroop, 
+o, as we hear, are busily in arms: 
+Myself and you, son Harry, will towards 
+Wales, 
+To fight with Glendower and the Earl of 
+March. 
+Rebellion in this land shall lose his sway, 41 
+Meeting the check of such another day: 
+And since this business so fair is done, 
+Let us not leave till all our own be won. 
+[Exeunt 
+
+
+THE SECOND PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSON 
+
+
+Rumour, the Presenter. 
+
+Kine Henry the Fourth. 
+
+Henry, Prince oF WALES, after- ) 
+wards King Henry V., 
+
+THomas, DUKE OF CLARENCE, 
+
+Prince JoHN oF LANCASTER, 
+
+Prince HUMPHREY OF Groucester J 
+
+Ear. or WARWICK. 
+
+E\ARL OF WESTMORELAND. 
+
+E:aRL OF SURREY. 
+
+Gower. 
+
+Harcourt. 
+
+BLUNT. 
+
+Lord Chief-Justice of the King’s Bench. 
+
+A Servant of the Chief-Justice. 
+
+Fart or NORTHUMBERLAND. 
+
+Scroop, Archbishop of York. 
+
+Lorp Mowsray. 
+
+Lorp HastTincs. 
+
+Lorp BaRDOLPH. 
+
+Sir JoHN COoLevILe. 
+
+Travers and Morton, retainers of Northum- 
+berland. 
+
+
++ his sons. 
+
+
+INDUCTION. 
+Warkworth. Before the castle. 
+Enter Rumour, painted full of tongues. 
+
+
+Rum. Open your ears; for which of you 
+
+will stop 
+
+The vent of hearing when loud Rumour 
+speaks ? 
+
+I, from the orient to the drooping west, 
+
+Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold 
+
+The acts commenced on this ball of earth: 
+
+Upon my tongues continual slanders ride, 
+
+The which in every language I pronounce, 
+
+Stuffing the ears of men with false reports. 
+
+I speak of peace, while covert enmity 
+
+Under the smile of safety wounds the world: 
+
+And who but Rumour, who but only [, 
+
+Make fearful musters and prepared defence, 
+
+Whiles the big year, swoln with some other 
+grief, 
+
+Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war, 
+
+And no such matter? Rumour is a pipe 
+
+Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures, 
+
+
+Sir JOHN FAtstarF. 
+
+His Page. 
+
+BaRDOLPH. 
+
+PisTOL. 
+
+Pons. 
+
+PETo, 
+
+SHALLOW 
+
+SILENCE, 
+
+Davy, Servant to Shallow. 
+
+Mou.tpy, Suapow, Wart, 
+BULLCaLF, recruits, 
+
+Fanc and Snar&, sheriff's officers. 
+
+Lapy NorRTHUMBERLAND. 
+
+Lapy Percy. 
+
+Mistress QUICKLY, hostess of a tavern in 
+Eastcheap. 
+
+Do Li TEARSHEET. 
+
+
+? t country justices, 
+
+
+FEEBLE, and 
+
+
+Lords and Attendants; Porter, Drawers, 
+Beadles, Grooms, &c. 
+A Dancer, speaker of the epilogue. 
+
+
+SCENE: England. 
+
+
+And of so easy and so plain a stop 
+
+That the blunt monster with uncounted fads 
+
+The still-discordant wavering multitude, 
+
+Can play upon it. But what need I thus 20 
+
+My well-known body to anatomize 
+
+Among my household? Why is Rumour here? 
+
+I run before King Harry’s victory; 
+
+Who in a bloody field by Shrewsbury 
+
+Hath beaten down young Hotspur and his 
+troops, 
+
+Quenching the flame of bold rebellion 
+
+Even with the rebels’ blood. But what mean I 
+
+To speak so true at first? my office is 
+
+To noise abroad that Harry Monmouth fell 
+
+Under the wrath of noble Hotspur’s sword, 30 
+
+And that the king before the Douglas’ rage 
+
+0 | Stoop’d his anointed head as low as death. 
+
+This have I rumour’d through the peasant 
+towns 
+
+Between that royal field of Shrewsbury 
+
+And this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone, 
+
+Where Hotspur’s father, old Northumberland, 
+
+Lies crafty-sick: the posts come tiring on, 
+
+And not a man of them brings other news 
+
+
+504 
+
+
+- 
+
+
+’ 
+? 
+
+
+“9 
+ee 
+
+
+: 
+
+
+| 
+
+
+ioe oe nie 
+~ Acti, Se, 
+
+
+1] 
+, » 
+Than they have learn’d of me: from Rumour’s 
+tongues 
+
+
+They bring smooth comforts false, worse than 
+*rue wrongs. [Exit. 40 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+
+
+Scene I. 
+Enter Lorp BarbDoLPH. 
+
+
+L. Bard. Who keeps the gate here, ho? . 
+The Porter opens the gate, 
+Where is the earl? 
+
+Port. What shall I say you are? 
+
+L. Bard. Tell thou the earl 
+
+That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here. 
+Port. His lordship is walk’d forth into the 
+orchard: 
+_ Please it your honour, knock but at the gate, 
+And he himself will answer. 
+Enter NoRTHUMBERLAND. 
+L. Bard. Here comes the earl. 
+[Exit Porter. 
+North. What news, Lord Bardolph? every 
+minute now 
+Should be the father of some stratagem: 
+The times are wild; contention, like a horse 
+Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose 10 
+And bears down all before him. 
+
+L. Bard. Noble earl, 
+
+I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury. 
+
+North. Good, an God will! 
+
+L. Bard. As good as heart can wish: 
+The king is almost wounded to the death; 
+And, in fortune of my lord your son, 
+Prince Harry slain outright; and both the 
+
+Blunts 
+Kill'd by the hand of Douglas; young Prince 
+John 
+And Westmoreland and Stafford fled the field; 
+And Harry Monmouth’s brawn, the hulk Sir 
+John, 
+Is prisoner to your son: O, such a day, 20 
+So fought, so follow’d and so fairly won, 
+Came not till now to dignify the times, 
+
+
+The same. 
+
+
+Since Cesar’s fortunes! 
+
+
+North. 
+
+
+How is this derived? 
+
+
+_ Saw you the field? came you from Shrews- 
+
+
+bury ? 
+L. Bard. 1 spake with one, my lord, that 
+came from thence, 
+A gentleman well bred and of good name, 
+That freely render’d me these news for true. 
+North. Here comes my servant Travers, 
+whom I sent 
+On Tuesday last to listen after news. 
+
+
+Enter TRAVERS. 
+
+
+L. Bard. My lord, I over-rode him on the 
+way; 30 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+505 
+
+
+And he is furnish’d with no certainties 
+More than he haply may retail from me. 
+
+North. Now, Travers, what good tidings 
+
+comes with you? 
+
+Tra, My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turn’d 
+
+me back 
+With joyful tidings; and, being better horsed, 
+Out-rode me. After him came spurring hard 
+A gentleman, almost forspent with speed, 
+That stopp’d by me to breathe his bloodied 
+horse. 
+He ask’d the way to Chester; and of him 
+I did demand what news from Shrewsbury: 40 
+He told me that rebellion had bad luck 
+And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold. 
+With that, he gave his able horse the head, 
+And bending forward struck his armed heels 
+Against the panting sides of his poor jade 
+Up to the rowel-head, and starting so 
+He seem’d in running to devour the way, 
+Staying no longer question. 
+
+North. Ha! Again: 
+Said he young Harry Percy's spur was cold? 
+Of Hotspur Coldspur? that rebellion 50 
+Had met ill luck > 
+
+L. Bard. My lord, I'll tell you what; 
+If my young lord your son have not the day, 
+Upon mine honour, for a silken point 
+I'll give my barony; never talk of it. 
+
+North. Why should that gentleman that 
+
+rode by Travers ~ 
+Give such instances of loss? 
+
+L. Bard. Who, he? 
+
+He was some hilding fellow that had stolen 
+
+The horse he rode on, and, upon my life, 
+
+Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more 
+news. 
+
+
+Enter Morton. 
+
+
+North. Yea, this man’s brow, like to a title- 
+
+leaf, 60 
+
+Foretells the nature of a tragic volume: 
+
+So looks the strand whereon the imperious 
+flood 5 
+
+Hath left a witness’d usurpation. 
+
+Say, Morion, didst thou come from Shrews- 
+bury? 
+
+Mor. I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble 
+
+lord; 
+Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask 
+To fright our party. 
+
+North. How doth my son and brother? 
+Thou tremblest; and the whiteness in thy cheek 
+Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand. 
+Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, 
+
+So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone, 
+Drew Priam’s curtain in the dead of night, 
+And wauld have told him half his Troy wes 
+
+
+burnt: 
+
+
+70 
+
+
+506 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. I 
+
+
+But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue, 
+And I my Percy's death ere thou report’st it. 
+This thou wouldst say, “Your son did thus and 
+thus; 
+Your brother noble 
+Douglas:’ 
+Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds: 
+But in the end, to stop my ear indeed, 
+Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise, 80 
+Ending with ‘Brother, son, and all are dead.’ 
+Mor. Douglas is living, and your brother, 
+yet; 
+But, for my lord your son,— 
+North. Why, he is dead. 
+See what a ready tongue suspicion hath! 
+He that but fears the thing he would not know 
+Hath by instinct knowledge from others’ eyes 
+That what he fear’d is chanced. Yet speak, 
+Morton; 
+Tell thou an earl his divination lies, 
+And I will take it as a sweet disgrace 
+And make thee rich for doing me such wrong. 
+Mor. You are too great to be by me gain- 
+said: 
+Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain. 
+North. Yet, for all this, say not that Percy’s 
+dead. 
+I see a strange confession in thine eye: 
+Thou shakest thy head and hold’st it fear or 
+sin 
+To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so; 
+The tongue offends not that reports his death: 
+And he doth sin that doth belie the dead, 
+Not he which says the dead is not alive. 
+Ye the first bringer of unwelcome news, 
+Hath but a losing office, and his tongue 
+Sounds ever after as a sullen bell, 
+Remember'd tolling a departing friend. 
+L. Bard. | cannot think, my lord, your son 
+is dead. 
+Mor. 1 am sorry | should force you to be- 
+lieve 
+That which I would to God I had not seen; 
+But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state, 
+Rendering faint quittance, wearied and out- 
+breathed, 
+To Harry Monmouth; whose swift wrath beat 
+down 
+The never-daunted Percy to the earth, 110 
+From whence with life he never more sprung 
+up. 
+In few, his death, whose spirit lent a fire 
+Even to the dullest peasant in his camp, 
+Being bruited once, took fire and heat away 
+From the best-temper’d courage in his troops; 
+For from his metal was his party steel’d; 
+Which once in him abated, all the rest 
+Turn’d on themselves, like dull and heavy 
+lead: 
+
+
+thus: so fought the 
+
+
+100 
+
+
+And as the thing that’s heavy in itself, 
+
+Upon enforcement flies with greatest speed, 120 
+
+So did our men, heavy in Hotspur’s loss, 
+
+hey to this weight such lightness with their 
+ear 
+
+That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim 
+
+Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety, 
+
+Fly from the field. Then was that noble 
+Worcester 
+
+Too soon ta’en prisoner; and that furious Scot, 
+
+The bloody Douglas, whose well-labouring 
+sword 
+
+sed tee times slain the appearance of the 
+
+ing, 
+
+*Gan vail his stomach and did grace the shame 
+
+Of those that turn’d their backs, and in his 
+flight, 130 
+
+Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all 
+
+Is that the king hath won, and hath sent out 
+
+A speedy power to encounter you, my lord, 
+
+Under the conduct of young Lancaster 
+
+And Westmoreland. ‘This is the news at full. 
+
+North. For this I shall have time enough 
+
+to mourn, 
+
+In poison there is physic; and these news, 
+
+Having been well, that would have made me 
+
+
+sick, 
+
+Being sick, have in some measure made me 
+well: 
+
+And as the wretch, whose fever-weaken'd 
+joints, 
+
+
+Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life, 141 
+
+Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire 
+
+Out of his keeper’s arms, even so my limbs, 
+
+Weaken'd with grief, being now enraged with 
+grief, 
+
+Are thrice themselves. 
+nice crutch! 
+
+A scaly gauntlet now with joints of steel 
+
+Must glove this hand: and hence, thou sickly 
+quoif! 
+
+Thou art a guard too wanton for the head 
+
+bie princes, flesh’d with conquest, aim to 
+
+it. 
+
+Now bind my brows with iron; and approach 
+
+The ragged’st hour that time and spite dar: 
+bring 15) 
+
+To frown upon the enraged Northumberland! 
+
+Let heaven kiss earth! now let not Nature’s 
+hand 
+
+Keep the wild flood confined! let order die! 
+
+And let this world no longer be a stage 
+
+To feed contention in a lingering act; 
+
+But let one spirit of the first-born Cain 
+
+Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set 
+
+On bloody courses, the rude scene may end, 
+
+And darkness be the burier of the dead! 160 
+
+Tra, This strained passion doth you wrong, 
+
+my lord. 
+
+
+Hence, therefore, thou 
+
+
+Act I, Se. II] 
+
+
+L. Bard. Sweet earl, divorce not wisdom 
+from your honour. 
+Mor. The lives of all your loving com- 
+plices 
+Lean on your health; the which, if you give 
+o'er 
+To stormy passion, must perforce decay. 
+You cast the event of war, my noble lord, 
+And summ'd the account of chance, before 
+you said “ 
+“Let us make head.’ It was your presurmise, 
+That, in the dole of blows, your son might 
+drop: 
+You knew he walk’d o'er perils, on an edge, 170 
+More likely to fall in than to get o'er; 
+You were advised his flesh was capable 
+OF wounds and scars and that his forward 
+spirit 
+Would lift him where most trade of. danger 
+ranged: 
+Yet did you say ‘Go forth;’ and none of this, 
+Though strongly apprehended, could restrain 
+The stiff-borne action: what hath then be- 
+fallen, 
+Or what hath this bold enterprise brought forth, 
+More than that being which was like to be? 
+L. Bard. We all that are engaged to this 
+loss 180 
+Knew that we ventured on such dangerous seas 
+That if we wrought out life ‘twas ten to one; 
+And yet we ventured, for the gain proposed 
+Choked the respect of likely peril fear'd; 
+And since we are o’erset, venture again. 
+Come, we will all put forth, body and goods. 
+Mor. "Tis more than time: and, my most 
+noble lord, 
+I hear for certain, and do speak the truth, 
+The gentle Archbishop of York is up 
+With well-appointed powers: he is a man 190 
+Who with a double surety binds his followers. 
+My lord your son had only but the corpse, 
+But shadows and the shows of men, to fight; 
+For that same word, rebellion, did divide 
+The action of their bodies from their souls; 
+And they did fight with queasiness, constrain’d, 
+As men drink potions, that their weapons only 
+Seem'd on our side; but, for their spirits and 
+souls, 
+This word, rebellion, it had froze them up, 
+As fish are in a pond, But now the bishop 200 
+Turns insurrection to religion: 
+Supposed sincere and holy in his thoughts, 
+He’s followed both with body and with mind; 
+And doth enlarge his rising with the blood 
+Of fair King Richard, scraped from Pomfret 
+stones; 
+Derives from heaven his quarrel and his cause; 
+_ Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land, 
+Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke; 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+507 
+
+
+And more and less do flock to follow him. 
+North. I knew of this before; but, to speak 
+truth, 210 
+This present grief had wiped it from my mind. 
+Go in with me; and counsel every man 
+The aptest way for safety and revenge: 
+Get posts and letters, and make friends with 
+
+
+speed: 
+Never so few, and never yet more need. 
+[Exeunt. 
+Scene II. London. A street. 
+
+
+Enter FausTaFr, with his Page bearing his 
+sword and buckler. 
+
+
+Fal. Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor 
+to my water? 
+
+Page. He said, sir, the water itself was a 
+good healthy water; but, for the party that 
+owed it, he might have more diseases than he 
+knew for. 
+
+Fal. Men of all sorts take a pride to gird 
+at me: the brain of this foolish-compounded 
+clay, man, is not able to invent any thing that 
+tends to laughter, more than I invent or is in- 
+vented on me: | am not only witty in myself, 
+but the cause that wit is in other men. I do 
+here walk before thee like a sow that hath 
+overwhelmed all her litter but one. If the 
+prince put thee into my service for any other 
+reason than to set me off, why then I have 
+no judgement. Thou whoreson mandrake, thou 
+art fitter to be worn in my cap than to wait 
+at my heels. I was never manned with an 
+agate till now: but I will inset you neither in 
+gold nor silver, but in vile apparel, and send 
+you back again to your master, whose chin is 
+not yet fledged. I will sooner have a beard 
+grow in the palm of my hand than he shall 
+get one on his cheek; and yet he will not stick 
+to say his face is a face-royal: God may 
+finish it when he will, ‘tis not a hair amiss yet: 
+he may keep it still at a face-royal, for a 
+barber shall never earn sixpence out of it; 
+and yet he'll be crowing as if he had writ 
+man ever since his father was a bachelor. He 
+may keep his own grace, but he’s almost out 
+of mine, I can assure him. What said Master 
+Dombledon about the satin for my short cloak 
+and my slops? 
+
+Page. He said, sir, you should procure him 
+better assurance than Bardolph: he would not 
+take his band and yours; he liked not the 
+security. 
+
+Fal. Let him be damned, like the glutton! 
+pray God his tongue be hotter! 4 whoreson 
+Achitophel! a rascally yea-forsooth knave! to 
+bear a gentleman in hand, and then stand upon 
+security! The whoreson smooth-pates do now 
+wear nothing but high shoes, and bunches of 
+
+
+508 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. II 
+
+
+I 
+
+
+keys at their girdles; and if a man is through 
+with them in honest taking up, then they must 
+stand upon security. I had as lief they would 
+put ratsbane in my mouth as offer to stop it 
+with security. 1 looked a’ should have sent 
+me two and twenty yards of satin, as ] am a 
+true knight, and he sends me security. Well, 
+he may sleep in security; for he hath the horn 
+of abundance, and the lightness of his wife 
+shines through it: and yet cannot he see, 
+though he have his own lanthorn to light him. 
+Where 's Bardolph? 
+
+Page. He's gone into Smithfield to buy 
+your worship a horse. 
+
+Fal. «| bought him in Paul’s, and he ‘Il buy 
+me a horse in Smithfield: an I could get me 
+but a wife in the stews, | were manned, horsed, 
+
+
+and wived, él 
+Enter the Lord Chief-Justice and Servant. 
+
+
+Page. Sir, here comes the nobleman that 
+committed the prince for striking him about 
+Bardolph. 
+
+Fal. Wait close; I will not see him. 
+
+_ Ch, Just. What's he that goes there? 
+
+Serv. Falstaff, an’t please your lordship. 
+
+Ch, Just. He that was in question for the 
+robbery ? 69 
+
+Serv.’ He, my lord: but he hath since done 
+good service at Shrewsbury; and, as I hear, is 
+now going with some charge to the Lord. John 
+of Lancaster. 
+
+Ch. Just. What, to York? 
+again. 
+
+Serv, Sir John Falstaff! 
+
+Fal. Boy, tell him I am deaf. 
+
+Page. You must speak louder; my. master 
+is deaf. 
+
+Ch. Just. 1 am sure he is, to the hearing of 
+any thing good. Go, pluck him by the elbow; 
+J must speak with him. 
+
+Serv. Sir John! 
+
+Fal. What! a young knave, and begging! 
+Is there not wars? is there not employment? 
+doth not the king lack subjects? do not the 
+rebels need soldiers? Though it be a shame 
+to be on any side but one, it is worse shame to 
+beg than to be on the worst side, were it 
+worse than the name of rebellion can tell how 
+to make it. , 90 
+
+Serv. You mistake me, sir. 
+
+Fal. Why, sir, did I say you were an 
+honest man? setting my knighthood and my 
+soldiership aside, I had lied in my throat, if I 
+had said so. 
+
+Serv. I pray you, sir, then set your knight- 
+hood and your soldiership aside; and give me 
+leave to tell you, you lie in your throat, if you 
+say I am any other than an honest man. 
+
+
+Call him back 
+
+
+Fal. | give thee leave to tell me so! I lay 
+aside that which grows on me! If thou gettest 
+any leave of me, hang me; if thou takest leave, 
+thou wert better be hanged. You hunt coun- 
+ter: hence! avaunt! 
+
+Serv. Sir, my lord would speak with you. 
+
+Ch. Just. Sir John Falstaff, a word with 
+you. 
+
+Fal. My good lord! God give your lord- 
+ship good time of day. I am glad to see your 
+lordship abroad: I heard say your lordship 
+was sick: I hope your lordship goes abroad by 
+advice. Your lordship, though not clean past 
+your youth, hath yet some smack of age in 
+you, some relish of the saltness of time; and 
+I most humbly beseech your lordship to have 
+a reverent care of your health. 
+
+Ch, Just. Sir John, I sent for you before 
+your expedition to Shrewsbury. 
+
+Fal. An’t please your lordship, I hear his 
+majesty is returned with some discomfort from 
+Wales. 
+
+Ch. Just. I talk not of his majesty: you 
+would not come when I sent for you. 12 
+
+Fal. And I hear, moreover, his highness is 
+fallen into this same whoreson apoplexy. 
+
+Ch. Just. Well, God mend him! I pray 
+you, let me speak with you. 
+
+Fal. This apoplexy is, as I take it, a kind 
+of lethargy, ant please your lordship; a kind 
+of sleeping in the blood, a whoreson tingling. 
+
+Ch. Just. What tell you me of it? be it as 
+it is. 130 
+
+
+Fal. It hath . it from much 
+
+
+original 
+
+
+grief, from study and perturbation of the » 
+
+
+brain: I have read the cause of his effects in 
+Galen: it is a kind of deafness. 
+
+Ch. Just. I think you are fallen into the 
+disease; for you hear not what I say to you. 
+
+Fal. Very well, my lord, very well: rather, 
+ant please you, it is the disease of not listen- 
+ing, the malady of not marking, that I am 
+troubled withal. 140 
+
+Ch. Just. To punish you by the heels would 
+amend the attention of your ears; and I care 
+not if I do become your physician. 
+
+Fal. 1 am as poor as Job, my lord, but not 
+so patient: your lordship may minister the 
+potion of imprisonment to me in respect of 
+poverty; but how I should be your patient to 
+follow your prescriptions, the wise may make 
+some dram of a scruple, or indeed a scruple 
+itself. 
+
+Ch. Just. I sent for you, when there were 
+matters against you for your life, to come 
+speak with me. 
+
+Fal. As I was then advised by my learned 
+counsel in the laws of this land-service, I did 
+not come. 
+
+
+f 
+
+
+_—=—_ 
+
+
+Act I, Sc. II] 
+
+
+Ch. Just. Well, the truth is, Sir John, you 
+live in great infamy. 
+
+Fal. He that buckles him in my belt cannot 
+live in less. 
+
+Ch. Just. Your means are very slender, and 
+your waste is great. 160 
+
+Fal. 1 would it were otherwise; I would 
+my means were greater, and my waist slen- 
+derer. 
+
+Ch, Just. You have misled the youthful 
+prince, 
+
+Fal. The young prince hath misled me: 
+I am the fellow with the great belly, and he 
+my dog. 
+
+Ch. Just. Well, I am loath to gall a new- 
+healed wound: your day's service at Shrews- 
+bury hath a little gilded over your night's 
+exploit on Gad's-hill: you may thank the 
+unguiet time for your quiet o’er-posting that 
+action. 171 
+
+Fal. My lord? 
+
+Ch, Just. But since all is well, keep it so: 
+wake not a sleeping wolf. 
+
+Fal. To wake a wolf is as bad as to smell 
+a fox. 
+
+Ch. Just. What! you are as a candle, the 
+better part burnt out. 
+
+Fal. A wassail candle, my lord, all tallow: 
+if] did say of wax, my growth would approve 
+the truth. 181 
+
+Ch, Just. There is not a white hair on your 
+face but should have his effect of gravity. 
+
+Fal. His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy. 
+
+Ch, Just. You follow the young prince up 
+and down, like his ill angel. 
+
+Fal. Not so, my lord; your ill angel is 
+light; but I hope he that looks upon me will 
+take me without weighing: and yet, in some 
+respects, I grant, I cannot go: I cannot tell, 
+Virtue is of so little regard in these coster- 
+monger times that true valour is turned bear- 
+herd: pregnancy is made a tapster, and hath 
+his quick wit wasted in giving reckonings: all 
+the other gifts appertinent to man, as the mal- 
+ice of this age shapes them, are not worth a 
+gooseberry. You that are old consider ‘not 
+the capacities of us that are young; yeu do 
+measure the heat of our livers with the bitter- 
+fess of your galls: and we that are in the 
+vaward of our youth, I must confess, are wags 
+too. 200 
+
+Ch: Just. Do you set down your name in 
+the scroll of youth, that are written down old 
+with all the characters of age? Have you 
+not a moist eye? a dry hand? a yellow cheek? 
+a white beard? a decreasing leg? an increasing 
+belly? is not your voice broken? your wind 
+short? your chin double? your wit single? and 
+
+
+every part about you blasted with antiquity > 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+509 
+
+
+and will you yet call yourself young? Fie, 
+fie, fie, Sw John! 209 
+
+Fal. My lord, I was born about three of 
+the clock in the afternoon, with a white head 
+and something a round belly. For my voice, 
+I have lost it with halloing and singing of 
+anthems. To approve my youth further, I 
+will not: the truth is, I am only old in judge- 
+ment and understanding; and he that will 
+caper with me for a thousand marks, let him 
+lend me the money, and have at him! For 
+the box of the ear that the prince gave yeu, 
+he gave it like a rude prince, and you took 
+it like a sensible Jord. I have checked him 
+for it, and the young lion repents; marry, not 
+im ashes and sackcloth, but in new silk and 
+old sack. 
+
+Ch, Just. Well, God send the prince a 
+better companion! 
+
+Fal. God send the companion a _ better 
+prince! I cannot rid my hands of him. 
+
+Ch. Just. Well, the king hath severed you 
+and Prince Harry: I hear you are going with 
+Lord John of Lancaster against the Arch- 
+bishop and the Earl of Northumberland. 230 
+
+Fal. Yea; I thank your pretty sweet wit 
+for it. But look you pray, all you that kiss 
+my lady Peace at home, that our armies join 
+not in a hot day; for, py the Lord, 1 take 
+bué two shirts out with me, and I mean not te 
+sweat extraordinarily: if it be a hot day, and 
+I brandish any thing but a bottle, I would I 
+might never spit white again. There is not 
+a dangerous action can peep out his head but 
+I am thrust upon it: well, I cannot last. ever: 
+but it was always yet the trick of our English 
+nation, if they have a good thing, to make it 
+too common. If ye will needs say I am an 
+old man, you should give me rest. I would te 
+God my name were not so terrible to the enemy 
+as it is: I were better to be eaten to death 
+with a rust than to be scoured to nothing with 
+perpetual motion. 
+
+Ch. Just. Well, be honest, be honest, and 
+God bless your expedition! 
+
+Fal. Will your lordship lend me a thou- 
+sand pound to furnish me forth? 251 
+
+Ch, Just. Not a penny, not a penny; you 
+are too impatient to bear crosses. Fare you 
+well: commend me to my cousin Westmore- 
+land. [Exeunt Chief-Justice and Servant, 
+
+Fal. If I do, fillip me with a three-man 
+beetle. A man can no more separate age and 
+covetousness than a’ can part young limbs and 
+lechery: but the gout galls the one, and the 
+pox pinches the other; and so both the degrees 
+prevent my curses. Boy! 260 
+
+Page. Sir? 
+
+Fal. What money is in my purse? 
+
+
+510 
+
+
+Page. Seven groats and two pence. 
+
+Fal. I can get no remedy against this con- 
+sumption of the purse: borrowing ‘only lingers 
+and lingers in it out, but the disease is incura- 
+ble. Go bear this letter to my Lord of Lan- 
+caster; this to the prince; this to the Earl of 
+Westmoreland; and this to old Mistress Ur- 
+sula, whom I have weekly sworn to marry 
+since | perceived the first white hair on my 
+chin. About it: you know where to find me. 
+[Exit Page.] A pox of this gout! or, a gout 
+of this pox! for the one or the other plays the 
+rogue with my great toe. “Tis no matter if I 
+do halt; I have the wars for my colour, and 
+my pension shall seem the more reasonable. A 
+good wit will make use of any thing: I will 
+turn diseases to commodity. [Exit. 
+
+Scene Ill. York. The ARCHBISHOP’S 
+
+palace. 
+
+
+Enter the ARCHBISHOP, the Lorps HastTincs, 
+Mowpsray, and BARDOLPH. 
+
+
+Arch. Thus have you heard our cause and 
+known our means; 
+And, my most noble friends, I pray you all, 
+Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes: 
+And first, lord marshal, what say you to it? 
+Mowb. I well allow the occasion of our 
+arms; : 
+But gladly would be better satisfied 
+How in our means we should advance our- 
+selves 
+To look with forehead bold and big enough 
+Upon the power and puissance of the king. 
+
+Hast, Our present musters grow upon the 
+file 
+To five and twenty thousand men of choice; 
+And our supplies live largely in the hope 
+Of great Northumberland, whose bosom burns 
+With an incensed fire of injuries. 
+
+L.Bard. The question then, Lord Hast- 
+
+ings, standeth thus; 
+Whether our present five and twenty thousand 
+May hold up head without Northumberland > 
+
+Hast. With him, we may. 
+
+L. Bard. Yea, marry, there's the point: 
+But if without him we be thought too feeble, 
+My judgement is, we should not step too far 20 
+Till we had his assistance by the hand; 
+
+For in a theme so bloody-faced as this 
+Conjecture, expectation, and surmise 
+Of aids incertain should not be admitted. 
+Arch. ‘Tis very true, Lord Bardolph: for 
+indeed 
+lt was young Hotspur’s case at Shrewsbury. 
+L. Bard. It was, my lord; who lined him- 
+self with hope, 
+Eating the air on promise of supply, 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV | 
+
+
+[Act I, Sc. Ill 
+
+
+Flattering himself in project of a power 
+Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts: 
+And so, with great imagination 31 
+Proper to madmen, led his powers to death 
+And winking leap'd into destruction. 
+ie But, by your leave, it never yet did 
+urt 
+To lay down likelihoods and forms of hope. 
+L. Bar. +Yes, if this present quality of 
+war, 
+Indeed the instant action: a cause on foot 
+Lives so in hope as in early spring 
+We see the appearing buds; which to prove 
+fruit, 
+Hope gives not so much warrant as despair 40 
+That frosts will bite them. When we mean 
+to build, 
+We first survey the plot, then draw the model; 
+And. when we see the figure of the house, 
+Then must we rate the cost of the erection; 
+Which if we find outweighs ability, 
+What do we then but draw anew the model 
+In fewer offices, or at last desist 
+To build at all? Much more, in this great 
+work, 
+Which is almost to pluck a kingdom down 
+And set another up, should we survey 50 
+The piot of situation and the model, 
+Consent upon a sure foundation, 
+Question surveyors, know our own estate, 
+How able such a work to undergo, 
+To weigh against his opposite; or else 
+We fortify in paper and in figures, 
+Using the nameg of men instead of men: 
+Like one that draws the model of a house 
+Beyond his power to build it; who, half 
+through, 
+Gives o'er and leaves his part-created cost 60 
+A naked subject to the weeping clouds 
+And waste for churlish winter's tyranny. 
+Hast. Grant that our hopes, yet likely of 
+fair birth, 
+Should be still-born, and that we now possess’a 
+The utmost man of expectation, 
+I think we are a body strong enough, 
+Even as we are, to equal with the king. 
+L. Bard. What, is the king but five and 
+twenty thousand? 
+Hast. To us no more; nay, not so much, 
+Lord Bardolph. ‘ 
+For his divisions, as the times do brawl, 70 
+Are in three heads, one power against the 
+French, 
+And one against Glendower; perforce a thiré 
+Must take up us: so is the unfirm king 
+In three divided; and his coffers sound 
+With hollow poverty and emptiness. 
+Arch. That he should draw his several 
+
+
+strengths together 
+
+
+Act II, Sc. I] 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY Iv 
+
+
+51f 
+
+
+And. come against us in full puissance, 
+Need not be dreaded. 
+Hast. If he should do so, 
+He leaves his back unarm'd, the French and 
+Welsh 
+Baying him at the heels: never fear that. 80 
+L. Bard. Who is it like should lead his 
+forces hither > 
+Hast. The Duke of Lancaster and West- 
+moreland; 
+Against the Welsh, himself and Harry Mon- 
+mouth: 
+But who is substituted ‘gainst the French, 
+I have no certain notice. 
+Arch. Let us on, 
+And publish the occasion of our arms. 
+The commonwealth is sick of their own choice; 
+Their over-greedy love hath surfeited: 
+An habitation giddy and unsure 
+Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart. 90 
+O thou fond many, with what loud applause 
+Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Boling- 
+broke, ; 
+Before he was what thou wouldst have him be! 
+And being now trimm’d in thine own desires, 
+Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him, 
+That thou provokest thyself to cast him up. 
+So, so, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge 
+Thy glutton bosom of the royal Richard; 
+And now thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up, 
+And howl’st to findsit. What trust is in these 
+times ? 100 
+They that, when Richard lived, would have 
+him die, 
+Are now become enamour’d on his grave: 
+Thou, that threw’st dust upon his goodly. head 
+When through proud London he came sighing 
+
+
+on 
+
+After the admired heels of Bolingbroke, 
+Criest now * O earth, yield us that king again, 
+And take thou this!’ O thoughts of men 
+
+
+accursed! 
+Past and to come seems best; things present 
+
+worst, 
+
+Mowb. Shall we go draw our numbers and 
+set on? , 
+
+Hast. We are time's subjects, and time bids 
+be gone. [Exeunt. 110 
+
+ACKAL 
+Scene I. London. A street. 
+
+
+Enter Hostess, FANG and his Boy with her, 
+and SNaRE following. 
+
+
+Host. Master Fang, have you entered the 
+action ? 
+
+Fang. It is entered. 
+
+Host. Where's your yeoman? Is’t a lusty 
+
+
+yeoman? will a’ stand to 't? 
+
+
+Fang. *Sirrah, where 's Snare? 
+
+Host, O Lord, ay! good Master Snare. 
+
+Snare. Here, here. 
+
+Fang. Snare, we must arrest Sir John Fal- 
+staff. 
+
+Host. Yea, good Master Snare; I have en- 
+tered him and all. II 
+
+Snare. It may chance cost some of us our 
+lives, for he will stab. 
+
+Host. Alas the day! take heed of him; he 
+stabbed me in mine own house, and that most 
+beastly: in good faith, he cares not what mis- 
+chief he does, if his weapon be out: he will 
+foin like any devil; he will spare neither man, 
+woman, nor child. 
+
+Fang. If I can close with him, I care not 
+for his thrust. 
+
+Host. No, nor I neither: I'll be at your 
+|" elbow. 
+
+Fang. An I but fist him once; an a’ come 
+but within my vice,— ue 
+
+Host. Iam undone by his goirig; I warrant 
+you, he’s an infinitive thing upon my score. 
+Good Master Fang, hold him sure: good Mas- 
+ter Snare, let him not ‘scape. A’ comes con- 
+tinuantly to Pie-corner—saving your manhoods _ 
+—to buy a saddle; and he is indited to dinner 
+to the Lubber'’s-head in Lumbert street, to 
+Master Smooth’s the silkman: I pray ye, since 
+my exion is entered and my case so openly 
+known to the world, let him be brought in to © 
+his answer. A hundred mark is a long one 
+for a poor lone woman to bear: and I have 
+borne, and borne, and borne, and have been 
+fubbed off, and fubbed off, and fubbed off, 
+from’ this day to that day, that it is a shame 
+to be thought on. There is no honesty in such 
+dealing; unless a woman should be made an 
+ass and a beast, to bear every knave'’s wrong. 
+Yonder he comes; and that arrant malmsey- 
+nose knave, Bardolph, with him. Do your 
+offices, do your offices: Master Fang and Mas- 
+ter Snare, do me, do me, do me your offices. 
+
+
+Enter FatstaFF, Page, and BARDOLPH. 
+
+
+Fal. How now! dead? 
+what's the matter? 
+
+Fang. Sir John, I arrest you at the suit of 
+Mistress Quickly. 49 
+
+Fal. Away, varlets! Draw, Bardolph: cut 
+me off the villain's head: throw the quean in 
+the channel. 
+
+Host. Throw me in the channel! I'll 
+throw thee in the channel. Wilt thou? wilt 
+thou? thou bastardly rogue! Murder, mur- 
+der! Ah, thou honey-suckle villain! wilt thou 
+kill God's officers and the king’s? Ah, thou 
+honey-seed rogue! thou art a honey-seed, a 
+Rieder and a woman-queller. 
+
+
+. 
+whose mare's 
+
+
+512 
+
+
+Fal. Keep them off, Bardolph. 60 
+
+Fang. A rescue! a rescue! 
+
+Host. Good people, bring a rescue or two. 
+Thou wo't, wo't thou? thou wo't, wo’t ta? 
+do, do, thou rogue! do, thou hemp-seed! 
+
+Fal. Away, you scullion! you rampallian! 
+you fustilarian! I'll tickle your catastrophe. 
+
+
+Enter the Lorp Cuter-Justice, and his men. 
+Ch. Just. What is the matter? keep the 
+
+
+peace here, ho! , 
+
+Host. Good my lord, be good to me. I be- 
+seech you, stand to me. 70 
+
+Ch. Just. How now, Sir John! what are 
+
+you brawling here? 
+
+Doth this become your place, your time and 
+business ? 
+
+You should have been well on your way to 
+York. 
+
+Stand from him, fellow: wherefore hang’st 
+upon him? 
+
+Host. O my most worshipful lord, an't 
+please your grace, | am a poor widow of 
+Eastcheap, and he is arrested at my suit. 
+
+Ch. Just. For what sum? 
+
+Host. It is more than for some, my lord; it 
+is for all, all I have. He hath eaten me out 
+of house and home; he hath put all my sub- 
+stance into that fat belly of his: but I will 
+have some of it out again, or I will ride thee 
+o’ nights like the mare. 
+
+Fal. 1 think I am as like to ride the mare, 
+if I have any vantage of ground to get up. 
+
+Ch, Just. How comes this, Sir John? Fie! 
+what man of good temper would endure this 
+tempest of exclamation? Are you not ashamed 
+to enforce a poor widow to so rough a course 
+to come by her own? 
+
+Fal. What is the gross sum that I owe thee? 
+
+Hest. Marry, if thou wert an honest man, 
+thyself and the money too, Thou didst swear 
+fo me upon a parcel-gilt goblet, sitting in my 
+Dolphin-chamber, at the round table, by a sea- 
+coal’ fire, upon, Wednesday in Wheeson week, 
+when the prince broke thy head for liking his 
+father to a singing-man of Windsor, thou didst 
+swear to me then, as I was washing thy wound, 
+to marry me and make me my lady thy wife. 
+Canst thou deny it? 
+the butcher’s wife, come in then and call me 
+gossip Quickly? coming in to borrow a mess 
+of vinegar; telling us she had a good dish of 
+prawns; whereby thou didst desire to eat some; 
+whereby I told thee they were ill for a green 
+wound? And didst thou not, when she was 
+gone down stairs, desire me to be no more so 
+familiarity with such poor people; saying that 
+ere long they would call me madam? And 
+
+
+didst thou not kiss.me and bid.me fetch thee:| be in this humour with’ me; dost not know: 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+Did not goodwife Keech, 
+
+
+t ed 
+: sf 
+
+
+~ 
+
+
+[Acr Il, Se. I 
+
+
+thirty shillings? I put thee now to thy book- 
+oath: deny it, if thou canst. 
+
+Fal. My lord, this is a poor mad soul; and 
+she says up and down the town that her eldest 
+son is like you: she hath been in good case, 
+and the truth is, poverty hath distracted her. 
+But for these foolish officers, | beseech you | 
+may have redress against them. 
+
+Ch, Just. Sir John, Sir John, I am well 
+acquainted with your manner of wrenching 
+the true cause the false way. It is not a con- 
+fident brow, nor the throng of words that come 
+with such more than impudent sauciness from 
+you, can thrust me from a level consideration: 
+
+
+you have, as it appears to me, practised upon 
+
+
+the easy-yielding spirit of this woman, and 
+made her serve your uses both in purse and 
+in person. 
+
+Host. Yea, in truth, my lord. 
+
+Ch. Just. Pray thee, peace. Pay her the 
+debt you owe her, and unpay the villany you 
+have done her: the one you may do with 
+sterling money, and the other with current 
+repentance. ; 
+
+Fal. My lord, I will not undergo this sneap 
+without reply. You call honourable boldness 
+impudent sauciness: if a man will make cour- 
+tesy and say nothing, he is virtuous: no, my 
+lord, my humble duty remembered, I will not 
+be your suitor. { say to you, I do desire de- 
+liverance from these officers, being upon hasty 
+employment in the king’s affairs. 1 
+
+Ch. Just. You speak as having power to do 
+wrong: but answey in the effect of your reputa- 
+
+
+tion, and satisfy the poor woman. 
+Fal. Come hither, hostess. 
+
+
+Enter Gower. 
+
+
+Ch. Just. Now, Master Gower, what news? 
+Gow. The king, my lord, and Harry 
+Prince of Wales 
+Are near at hand: the rest the paper tells. 
+
+Fal. As 1 am a gentleman. 
+
+Host. Faith, you said so before. 
+
+Fal. As | ama gentleman. Come, no more 
+words of it. 15] 
+
+Host. By this heavenly ground I tread op, 
+I must be fain to pawn both my plate and the 
+tapestry of my dining-chambers. 
+
+Fal. Glasses, glasses, is the only: drinking: 
+and for thy walls, a pretty slight drollery, or 
+the story of the Prodigal, or the German hunt- 
+ing in water-work. is worth a thousand of these 
+bed-hangings and these fly-bitten tapestries. 
+Let it be ten pound, if thou canst. Come, an 
+*twere not for thy humours. there's not a bet- 
+ter wench in England. Go, wash thy: face, 
+and draw the’ action. Come, thou must not 
+
+
+ae 
+— 
+
+
+ee ee 
+
+
+SATO eh Ve 
+
+
+» Acraily Se. it] 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+513 
+
+
+“me? come, come, I know thou wast set on to 
+this. 
+
+Host. Pray thee, Sir John, let it be but 
+twenty nobles: i’ faith, I am loath to pawn my 
+plate, so God save me, la! 
+
+Fal. Let it alone; I’ll make other shift: 
+you ‘Il be a fool still. 170 
+
+Host. Well, you shall have it, though I 
+pawn my gown. I hope you'll come to sup- 
+per. You'll pay me all together? 
+
+Fal. Will I live? [To Bardolph] Go, 
+with her, with her; hook on, hook on. 
+
+Host. Will you have Doll Tearsheet meet 
+you at supper > 
+
+Fal. No more words: let's have her. 
+[Exeunt Hostess, Bardolph, Officers, and Boy. 
+
+Ch, Just. I have heard better news. 
+
+Fal. What’s the news, my lord? 180 
+
+Ch. Just. Where lay the king last night? 
+
+Gow. At Basingstoke, my lord. 
+
+Fal. I hope, my lord, all’s well: what is 
+the news, my lord? 
+
+Ch. Just. Come all his forces back? 
+
+Gow. No; fifteen hundred foot, five hun- 
+
+dred horse, 
+Are march’d up to my lord of Lancaster, 
+Against Northumberland and-the Archbishop. 
+
+Fal. Comes the king back from Wales, my 
+
+noble lord? 
+
+Ch. Just, You shall have letters of me pre- 
+
+sently: 190 
+Come, go along with me, good Master Gower. 
+
+Fal. My lord! 
+
+Ch, Just. What's the matter? 
+
+Fal. Master Gower, shall I entreat you 
+with me to dinner? 
+
+Gow. I must wait upon my lord here; 
+J thank you, good Sir John. 
+
+Ch, Just. Sir John, you loiter here too long, 
+being you are to take soldiers up in counties 
+as you go. 200 
+
+Fal. Will you sup with me, Master Gower > 
+
+Ch, Just. What fodlish master taught you 
+these manners, Sir John? 
+
+Fal. Master Gower, if they become me not, 
+he was a fool that taught them me. This is 
+the right fencing grace, my lord; tap for tap, 
+and so part fair. 
+
+Ch. Just. Now the Lord lighten thee! thou 
+
+
+art a great fool. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. London. Another street. 
+
+.. Enter Prince Henry and Poins. 
+Prince. Before God, | am exceeding weary. 
+Poins. Is*t come to that? I had thought 
+
+weariness durst not have attached one of so 
+
+
+high blood. gui: 
+Prince. Faith, it does me; though it dis- 
+colours the complexion of my greatness to ac- 
+
+
+knowledge it. Doth it not show vilely in me 
+to desire small beer? 
+
+Poins. Why, a prince should not be se 
+loosely studied as to remember so weak a 
+composition. 
+
+Prince. Belike then my appetite was not 
+princely got; for, by my troth, I do now re- 
+member the poor creature, small beer. But, 
+indeed, these humble considerations make me 
+out of love with my greatness. What a dis- 
+grace is it to me to remember thy name! or 
+to know thy face to-morrow! or to take note 
+how many pair of silk stockings thou hast, viz. 
+these, and those that were thy peach-coloured 
+ones! or to bear the inventory of thy shirts, 
+as, one for superfluity, and another for use! 
+But that the tennis-court-keeper knows better 
+than I; for it is a low ebb of linen with thee 
+when thou keepest not racket there; as thou 
+hast not done a great while, because the rest 
+of thy low countries have made a shift to eat 
+up thy holland: and God knows, whether those 
+that bawl out the ruins of thy linen shall in- 
+herit his kingdom: but the midwives ‘say the 
+children are not in the fault; whereupon the 
+world increases, and kindreds are mightily 
+strengthened. 
+
+Poins. How ill it follows, after you have 
+laboured so hard, you should talk so idly! 
+Tell me, how many good young princes would 
+do so, their fathers being so sick as yours at 
+this time is? 
+
+Prince. Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins? 
+
+Poins. Yes, faith; and let it be an excellent 
+good thing. 
+
+Prince. It shall serve among wits of no 
+higher breeding than thine. 
+
+Poins. Go to; I stand the push of your one 
+thing that you will tell. 
+
+Prince. Marry, | tell thee, it is not meet 
+that I should be sad, now my father is sick: 
+albeit I could tell to thee, as to one it pleases 
+me, for fault of a better, to call my friend, I 
+could be sad, and sad indeed too. 
+
+Poins. Very hardly upon’such a subject. 
+
+Prince. By this hand, thou thinkest me as 
+far in the devil’s book as thou and Falstaff for 
+obduracy and persistency: let the end try the 
+man. But I tell thee, my heart bleeds in- 
+wardly that my father is so sick: and keeping 
+such vile company as thou art hath in reason 
+taken from me all ostentation of sorrow. 
+
+Poins. The reason? 
+
+Prince. What wouldst thou think of me, if 
+I should weep? 
+
+Poins. 1 would think thee a most princely 
+hypocrite. 59 
+
+Prince. It would be every man’s thought; 
+and thou art a blessed fellow to think as every 
+
+
+514 
+
+
+man thinks: never a man’s thought in the world 
+keeps the road-way better than thine: every 
+man would think me an hypocrite indeed. 
+And what accites your most worshipful thought 
+to think so? 
+
+Poins. Why, because you have been so 
+lewd and so much engraffed to Falstaff. 
+
+Prince. And to thee. 
+
+Poins. By this light, I am well spoke on; 
+I can hear it with mine own ears: the worst 
+that they can say of me is that I am a second 
+brother and that I am a proper fellow of my 
+hands; and those two things, I confess, I can- 
+not help. By the mass, here comes Bardolph. 
+
+
+Enter BARDOLPH and Page. 
+
+
+Prince. And the boy that I gave Falstaff: 
+a’ had. him from me Christian; and look, if 
+the fat villain have not transformed him ape. 
+
+Bard. God save your grace! 
+
+Prince. And yours, most noble Bardolph! 
+
+Bard. Come, you virtuous ass, you bashful 
+fool, must you be blushing? wherefore blush 
+you now? What a maidenly man-at-arms are 
+you become! Is’t such a matter to get a 
+pottle-pot’s maidenhead ? 
+
+Page. A’ calls me e’en now, my lord, 
+through a red lattice, and I could discern no 
+part of his face from the window; at last I 
+spied his eyes, and methought he had made 
+two holes in the ale-wife’s new petticoat and 
+so peeped through. 
+
+Prince. Has not the boy profited? 90 
+
+Bard. Away, you whoreson upright rabbit, 
+away |! 
+
+Page. Away, you rascally Althea’s dream, 
+away! 
+
+Prince. Instruct us, boy; what dream, boy > 
+
+Page. Marry, my lord, Althea dreamed 
+she was delivered of a fire-brand; and there- 
+fore I call him her dream. 
+
+Prince. A crown’s worth of good interpre- 
+tation: there ‘tis, boy. 100 
+
+Poins. O, that this good blossom could be 
+kept from cankers! Well, there is sixpence 
+to preserve thee. 
+
+Bard. An you do not make him hanged 
+among you, the gallows shall have wrong. 
+
+Prince. And how doth thy master, Bar- 
+dolph > 
+
+Bard. Well, my Lord. He heard of your 
+grace’s coming to town: there 's a letter for you. 
+
+Poins. Delivered with good respect. And 
+how doth the martlemas, your master? 
+
+Bard. In bodilx health, sir. 
+
+Poins. Marry, the immortal part needs a 
+physician; but that moves not him: though 
+that be sick, it dies net, 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+{Acr II, Sc. II 
+
+
+Prince. I do allow this wen to be as fa- 
+miliar with me as my dog; and he holds his 
+place; for look you how he writes. 
+
+Poins. [Reads] ‘John Falstaff, knight, — 
+every man must know that, as oft as he has 
+occasion to name himself: even like those that 
+are kin to the king; for they never prick their 
+finger but they say, ‘There's some of the 
+king’s blood spilt.” *How comes that?’ says 
+he, that takes upon him not to conceive. The 
+answer is as ready as a borrower's cap, ‘I am 
+the king’s poor cousin, sir.’ 
+
+Prince. Nay, they will be kin to us, or 
+they will fetch it from Japhet. But to the 
+letter : 
+
+Poins. [Reads] * Sir John Falstaff, knight, 
+to the son of the king, nearest his father, Harry 
+Prince of Wales, greeting.’ Why, this is\a 
+certificate. 
+
+Prince. Peace! 
+
+Poins. [Reads] ‘1 will imitate the honour- 
+able Romans in brevity:’ he sure means brevity 
+in breath, short-winded. *I commend me to 
+thee, I commend thee, and I leave thee. Be 
+not too familiar with Poins; for he misuses 
+thy favours so much, that he swears thou art 
+to marry his sister Nell. Repent at idle times 
+as thou mayest; and so, farewell. 141 
+
+“Thine, by yea and no, which is as much 
+as to say, as thou usest him, Jack 
+FatsTaFF with my familiars, JoHN 
+with my brothers and sisters, and Sir 
+JouN with all Europe.’ 
+
+My lord, I'll steep this letter in sack and 
+make him eat it. ~ 
+
+Prince. That's to make him eat twenty of 
+his words. But do you use me thus, Ned? 
+must I marry your sister? 15] 
+
+Poins. God send the wench no worse for- 
+tune! But I never said so. 
+
+Prince. Well, thus we play the fools with 
+the time, and the spirits of the wise sit in the 
+clouds and mock us. Is your master here in 
+London? 
+
+Bard. Yea, my lord. 
+
+Prince. Where sups he? doth the old boar 
+feed in the old frank? 160 
+
+Bard. At the old place, my lord, in East- 
+cheap. 
+
+Prince. What company? 
+
+Page. Ephesians, my lord, of the old 
+church. 
+
+Prince. Sup any women with him? 
+
+Page. None, my lord. but old Mistress 
+Quickly and Mistress Doll Tearsheet. 
+
+Prince. What pagan may that be? 
+
+Page. A proper gentlewoman, sir, and a 
+kinswoman of my master’s. 170 
+
+Prince. Even such kin as the parish heifers 
+
+
+Act Il, Sc. Hl] 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+515 
+
+
+ee eee ac 00> 
+
+
+‘are to the town bull. Shall we steal upon 
+them, Ned, at supper? 
+
+Poins. | am your shadow, my lord; I'll 
+follow you. 
+
+Prince. Sirrah, you boy, and Bardolph, no 
+word to your master that I am yet come to 
+town: there ’s for your silence. 
+
+Bard. | have no tongue, sir. 179 
+
+Page. And for mine, sir, I will govern it. 
+
+Prince. Fare you well; go. [Exeunt Bar- 
+dolph and Page.| This Doll Tearsheet should 
+be some road. 
+
+Poins. I warrant you, as common ‘as the 
+way between Saint Alban’s and London. 
+
+Prince. How might we see Falstaff bestow 
+himself to-night in his true colours, and not 
+ourselves be seen? 
+
+Poins. Put on two leathern jerkins and 
+aprons, and wait upon him at his table as 
+drawers. 191 
+
+Prince. From a God to a bull? a heavy 
+descension! it was Jove’s case. From a prince 
+to a prentice? a low transformation! that shall 
+be mine; for in every thing the purpose must 
+
+
+weigh the folly. Follow me, Ned. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. Warkworth. Before the castle. 
+
+
+Enter NorTHUMBERLAND, Lapy NorTHuM- 
+BERLAND, and Lapy Percy. 
+
+
+North. I pray thee, loving wife, and gentle 
+daughter, 
+Give even way unto my rough affairs: 
+Put not you on the visage of the times 
+And be like them to Percy troublesome. 
+Lady N. {I have given over, I will speak no 
+more: 
+Do what you will; your wisdom be your guide. 
+North. Alas, sweet wife, my honour ts at 
+pawn; 
+And, but my going, nothing can redeem it. 
+Lady P. O yet, for God's sake, go not to 
+these wars! 
+The time was, father, that you broke your 
+word, 10 
+When you were more endear’d to it than now; 
+When your own Percy, when my heart's dear 
+Harry, 
+Threw many a northward look to see his father 
+Bring up his powers; but he did long in vain. 
+Who then persuaded you to stay at home? 
+There were two honours lost, yours and your 
+son’s. 
+For yours, the God of heaven brighten it! 
+For his, it stuck upon him as the sun 
+In the grey vault of heaven, and by his light 
+Did all the chivalry of England move 20 
+
+
+To do brave acts: he was indeed the glass 
+
+
+Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves: 
+
+He had no legs that practised not his gait; 
+
+And speaking thick, which nature made his 
+blemish, 
+
+Became the accents of the valiant; 
+
+For those that could speak low and tardily 
+
+Would turn their own perfection to abuse, 
+
+To seem like him: so that in speech, in gait, 
+
+In diet, in affections of delight, 
+
+In military rules, humours of blood, 30 
+
+He was the mark and glass, copy and book, 
+
+That fashion’d others. And him, O wondrous 
+him! 
+
+O miracle of men! him did you leave, 
+
+Second to none, unseconded by you, 
+
+To look upon the hideous god of war 
+
+In disadvantage; to abide a field 
+
+Where nothing but the sound of Hotspur’s 
+name 
+
+Did seem defensible: so you left him. 
+
+Never, O never, do his ghost the wrong 
+
+To hold your honour more precise and nice 40 
+
+With others than with him! let them alone: 
+
+The marshal and the archbishop are strong: 
+
+Had my sweet Harry had but half their 
+numbers, 
+
+To-day might I, hanging on Hotspur’s neck, 
+
+Have talk’d of Monmouth’s grave. 
+
+North. Beshrew your heart, 
+
+Fair-daughter, you do draw my spirits from 
+me 
+
+With new lamenting ancient oversights. 
+
+But I must go and meet with danger there, 
+
+Or it will seek me in another place 
+
+And find me worse provided. 
+
+Lady N. O, fly to Scotland, 50 
+Till that the nobles and the armed commons 
+Have of their puissance made a little taste. 
+
+Lady P. If they get ground and vantage of 
+
+the king, 
+Then join you with them, like a rib of steel, 
+To make strength stronger; but, for all our 
+loves, 
+First let them try themselves. So did your son; 
+He was so suffer’'d: so came I a widow; 
+And never shall have length of life enough 
+To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes, 
+That it may grow and sprout as high as 
+heaven, 
+For recordation to my noble husband. 61 
+North. Come, come, go in with me. “Tis 
+with my mind 
+
+As with the tide swell’d up unto his height, 
+
+That makes a still-stand, running neither way: 
+
+Fain would I go to meet the archbishop, 
+
+But many thousand reasons hold me back. 
+
+I will resolve for Scotland: there am I, 
+
+Till time and vantage crave my company. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+516 
+
+
+ScenE IV. London. The Boar’s-head Tavern | of you, Doll, we catch of you; grant that, my 
+
+
+in Eastcheap. 
+Enter iwo Drawers. 
+
+
+First Draw. What the devil hast thou 
+brought there? apple-johns? thou knowest Sir 
+John cannot endure an apple-john. 
+
+Sec. Draw. Mass, thou sayest true. The 
+prince once set a dish of apple-johns before 
+him, and told him there were five more Sir 
+Johns, and, putting off his hat, said “I will now 
+take my leave of these six dry, round, old, 
+withered knights.’ It angered him to the heart: 
+but he hath forgot that. 10 
+
+First Draw. Why, then, cover, and set 
+them down: and see if thou canst find out 
+Sneak’s noise; Mistress Tearsheet would fain 
+hear some music. Dispatch: the room where 
+they supped is too hot; they ‘Il come in 
+straight. 
+
+Sec. Draw. Sirrah, here will be the prince 
+and Master Poins anon; and they will put on 
+two of our jerkins and aprons; and Sir John 
+must not know of it: Bardolph hath brought 
+word, 20 
+
+First Draw. By the mass, here be old 
+Utis: it will be an excellent stratagem. 
+
+Sec. Draw. |'ll see if I can find out Sneak. 
+
+[Exit. 
+
+
+Enter Hostess and Dott TEARSHEET. 
+
+
+Host. \' faith, sweetheart, methinks now 
+you are in an excellent good temperality: your 
+pulsidge beats as extraordinarily as heart 
+would desire; and your colour, I warrant 
+you, is as red as any rose, in good truth, la! 
+But, i’ faith, you have drunk too much cana- 
+ries; and that’s a marvellous searching wine, 
+and it perfumes the blood ere one can say 
+“What's this?” How do you now? 
+
+Dol. Better than I was: hem! 
+
+Hosi. Why, that’s well said; a good heart's 
+worth gold. Lo, here comes Sir John. 
+
+
+Enter FALSTAFF. 
+
+
+Fal. [Singing] “When Arthur first in court’ 
+—Empty the jordan. [Exit First Drawer.] 
+—[Singing] ‘And was a worthy king.’ How 
+now, Mistress Doll! 
+
+Host. Sick of a calm; yea, good faith. 40 
+
+Fal. So is all her sect; and they be once in 
+a calm, they are sick. 
+
+Dol. You muddy rascal, is that all the 
+comfort you give me? 
+
+Fal. You make fat rascals, Mistress Doll. 
+
+Dol. 1 make them! gluttony and diseases 
+make them: I make them not. 
+
+Fal. If the cook help to make the gluttony, 
+you help to make the diseases. Dall: we catch 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+[Acril, Sci | 
+
+
+poor virtue, grant that. 51 
+Dol. Yea, joy, our chains and our jewels. 
+Fal. *Your brooches, pearls, and ouches:’ 
+
+for to serve bravely is to come halting off, 
+
+you know: to come off the breach with his 
+pike bent bravely, and to surgery bravely; to 
+venture upon the charged chambers bravely,— 
+
+Dol. Hang yourself, you muddy conger, 
+
+hang yourself! 59 
+Host. By my troth, this is the old fashion; 
+
+you two never meet but you fall to some dis- 
+
+cord: you are both, i’ good truth, as rheumatic 
+as two dry toasts; you cannot one bear with 
+another’s confirmities. What the good-year! | 
+one must bear, and that must be you: you are 
+the weaker vessel, as they say, the emptier 
+vessel. : 
+
+Dol. Can a weak empty vessel bear such 
+
+a huge full hogshead? there’s a whole mer- 
+
+chant’s venture of Bourdeaux stuff in him; 
+
+you have not seen a hulk better stuffed in 
+the hold. Come, I'll be friends with thee, 
+
+Jack: thou art going to the wars; and whether 
+
+I shall ever see thee again or no, there is 
+
+nobody cares. 
+
+
+Re-enter First Drawer. 
+
+
+First Draw. Sir, Ancient Pistol’s below, 
+and would speak with you. 
+
+Dol. Hang him, swaggering rascal! let him 
+not come hither: it is the foul-mouthed’st 
+rogue in England. 
+
+Host. If he swagger, let him not come 
+here: no, by my faith; I must live among my 
+neighbours; I'll no swaggerers: I am in good | 
+name and fame with the very best: shut the 
+door; there comes no swaggerers here: I have 
+not lived all this while, to have swaggering 
+now: shut the door, I pray you. 
+
+Fal. Dost thou hear, hostess ? 
+
+Host. Pray ye, pacify yourself, Sir John: 
+there comes no swaggerers here. 
+
+Fal. Dost thou hear? it is mine ancient. 89 
+
+Host. Tilly-fally, Sir John, ne’er tell me: 
+your ancient swaggerer comes not in my 
+doors. I was before Master Tisick, the deb- 
+uty, t'other day; and, as he said to me, 
+‘twas no longer ago than Wednesday last. 
+‘Tl’ good faith, neighbour Quickly,’ says he; 
+Master Dunbe, our minister, was by then; 
+‘neighbour Quickly,’ says he, ‘receive thosu 
+that are civil; for’ said he, ‘you are in an ill 
+name:’ now a’ said so, I can tell whereupon; 
+‘for,’ says he, ‘you are an honest woman, and 
+well thought on; therefore take heed what 
+guests you receive: receive, says he, ‘no 
+swaggering companions, There comes noné 
+
+
+—— ee 
+
+
+ty 
+
+
+Act Il, Se. 
+
+
+Iv] 
+
+
+here: you would bless you to hear what he 
+said: no, I "ll no swaggerers. 
+
+Fal. He’s no swaggerer, hostess; a tame 
+cheater, i’ faith; you may stroke him as gent- 
+ly as a puppy greyhound: he ‘ll not swagger 
+with a Barbary hen, if her feathers turn back 
+in any show of resistance. Call him up, 
+drawer. [Exit First Drawer. 
+
+Host. Cheater, call you him? I will bar 
+no honest man my house, nor no cheater: but 
+I do not love swaggering, by my troth; I 
+am the worse, when one says swagger: feel, 
+masters, how I shake; look you, I warrant 
+you. 
+
+Dol. So you do, hostess. 
+
+Host: Do 1? yea, in very truth, do I, an 
+“twere an aspen leaf: 1 cannot abide swag- 
+gerers. 
+
+
+Enter Pistot, BaRDoLPH, and Page. 
+
+
+Pist. God save you, Sir John! 119 
+
+Fal. Welcome, Ancient Pistol. Here, 
+Pistol, I charge you with a cup of sack: do 
+you discharge upon mine hostess. 
+
+Pist. 1 will discharge upon her, Sir John, 
+with two bullets. 
+
+. Fal. She is pistol-proof, sir; you shall 
+hardly offend her. 
+
+Host. Come, I'll drink no proofs nor no 
+bullets: I'll drink no more than will do me 
+good, for no’ man’s pleasure, 1. 
+
+Pist. Then to you, Mistress Dorothy: I 
+will charge you. 131 
+
+Dol. Charge me! I scorn you, scurvy com- 
+panion. What! you poor, base, rascally, 
+cheating, lack-linen mate! Away, you mouldy 
+rogue, away! I am meat for your master. 
+
+Pist. 1 know you, Mistress Dorothy. 
+
+Dol. Away, you cut-purse rascal! you 
+filthy bung, away! by this wine, I'll thrust my 
+knife in your mouldy chaps, an you play the 
+saucy cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale 
+rascal! you basket-hilt stale juggler, you! 
+Since when, I pray you, sir? God's light, 
+with two points on your shoulder? much! 
+
+Pist. God let me not live, but I will murder 
+your ruff for this. 
+
+Fal. No more, Pistol; I would not have 
+you go off here: discharge yourself of our 
+company, Pistol. 
+
+Host. No, good Captain 
+sweet captain. 150 
+
+Dol. Captain! thou abominable damned 
+cheater, art thou not ashamed to be called 
+captain? An captains were of my mind, they 
+would truncheon you out, for taking their 
+names upon you before you have earned 
+them. Youacaptain! you slave, for what? for 
+
+
+Pistol; not here, 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+517 
+
+
+tearing a poor whore’s ruff in a bawdy-house? 
+He a captain! hang him, rogue! he lives upon 
+mouldy stewed prunes and dried cakes. A 
+captain! God's light, these villains will make 
+the word as odious as the word ‘occupy; 
+which was an excellent good word before it 
+was ill sorted: therefore captains had need 
+look to ’t. 
+
+Bard, Pray thee, go down, good ancient. 
+
+Fal. Hark thee hither, Mistress Doll. 
+
+Pist. Not I: 1 tell thee what, Corporal 
+Bardolph, I could tear her: I'll be revenged 
+of her. 
+
+Page. Pray thee, go down. 
+
+Pist. 1°ll see her damned first; to Pluto's 
+damned lake, by this hand, to the infernal 
+deep, with Erebus and tortures vile also. 
+Hold hook and line, say I. Down, down, 
+dogs! down, faitors! Have we not Hiren 
+here > 
+
+Host. Good Captain Peesel, be quiet; "tis 
+very late, i’ faith: I beseek you now, aggra- 
+vate your choler. 
+
+Pist. These be good humours, indeed! 
+
+Shall pack-horses 
+And hollow pamper’d jades of Asia, 
+Which cannot go but thirty mile a-day, 
+Compare with Cesars, and with Cannibals, 
+And Trojan Greeks? nay, rather damn them 
+with 
+King Cerberus; and let the welkin roar. 
+Shall we fall foul for toys? 
+
+Host. By my troth, captain, these are very 
+bitter words. 
+
+Bard. Be gone, good ancient: this will 
+grow to a brawl anon. 
+
+Pist, Die men like dogs! give crowns like 
+pins! Have we not Hiren here? 189 
+
+Host. O° my word, captain, there ’s none 
+
+
+such here. What the good-year! do you 
+think I would deny her? For God's sake, be 
+quiet. 
+
+
+Pist. Then feed, and be fat, my fair Cali- 
+polis. Come, give ’s some sack. 
+‘Si fortune me tormente, sperato me contento. 
+Bh Rg broadsides? no, let the fiend give 
+re: 
+Give me some sack: and, sweetheart, lie thou 
+there. [Laying down his sword. 
+Come we to fill points here; and are etceteras 
+nothing? 
+Fal. Pistol, | would be quiet. 
+Pist. Sweet knight, I kiss thy neif: what! 
+we have seen the seven stars. 201 
+Dol. For God’s sake, thrust him down 
+stairs: | cannot endure such a fustian rascal. 
+Pist. Thrust him down stairs! know we 
+not Galloway nags> 
+Fal. Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a 
+
+
+518 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+[Act H, Sc. IV 
+
+
+——_———ee——— 
+
+
+shove-groat shilling: nay, an a’ do nothing but 
+speak nothing, a’ shall be nothing here. 
+Bard. Come, get you down stairs. 
+Pist. What! shall we have incision? shall 
+we imbrue? [Snatching up his sword. 
+Then death rock me asleep, abridge my dole- 
+
+
+ful days! 211 
+Why, then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping 
+wounds 
+Untwine the Sisters Three! Come Atropos, 
+I say! 
+
+
+Host. Here’s goodly stuff toward! - 
+
+Fal. Give me my rapier, boy. 
+
+Dol. | pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, do not 
+draw. 
+
+Fal. Get you down stairs. 
+
+[Drawing, and driving Pistol out. 
+
+Host. Here's a goodly tumult! I'll for- 
+swear keeping house, afore I'll be in these 
+tirrits and frights. So; murder, I warrant 
+now. Alas, alas! put up your naked weapons, 
+put up your naked weapons. 
+
+[Exeunt Pistol and Bardolph. 
+
+Dol. I pray thee, Jack, be quiet; the ras- 
+cal’s gone. Ah, you whoreson little valiant 
+villain, you! 
+
+Host. Are you not hurt i’ the groin? me- 
+thought a’ made a shrewd thrust at your belly. 
+Re-enter BARDOLPH. 
+
+Fal. Have you turned him out o' doors? 
+
+Bard. Yea, sir. The rascal 's drunk: you 
+have hurt him, sir, i’ the shoulder. 231 
+
+Fal. A rascal! to brave me! 
+
+Dol. Ah, you sweet little rogue, you! Alas, 
+poor ape, how thou sweatest! come, let me 
+wipe thy face; come on, you whoreson chops: 
+ah, rogue! i’ faith, I love thee: thou art as 
+valorous as Hector of Troy, worth five of 
+Agamemnon, and ten times better than the 
+Nine Worthies: ah, villain! 
+
+Fal. A rascally slave! I will toss the rogue 
+in a blanket. 241 
+
+Dol. Do, an thou darest for thy heart: an 
+thou dost, I'll canvass thee between a pair of 
+sheets. 
+
+
+Enter Music. 
+
+
+Page. The music is come, sir. 
+
+Fal. Let them play. Play, sirs. Sit on 
+my knee, Doll. A rascal bragging slave! the 
+rogue fled from me like quicksilver. 
+
+Dol. I’ faith, and thou followedst him like 
+achurch. Thou whoreson little tidy Bartholo- 
+mew boar-pig, when wilt thou leave fighting 
+o days and foining o’ nights, and begin to 
+patch up thine old body for heaven? 
+
+
+Enter, behind, Prince Henry and Pons, 
+disguised, 
+
+
+Fal. Peace, good Doll! do not speak like 
+a Scnthveheaa: do not bid me remember mine 
+end. 
+
+Dol. Sirrah, what humour 's the prince of > 
+
+Fal. A good shallow young fellow: a’ 
+would have made a good pantler, a’ would ha’ 
+chipped bread well. 
+
+Dol. They say Poins has a good wit. 260 
+
+Fal. He a good wit? hang him, baboon! 
+his wit’s as thick as Tewksbury mustard; 
+there’s no more conceit in him than is in a 
+mallet. 
+
+Dol. Why does the prince love him so, 
+then? 
+
+Fal. Because their legs are both of a big- 
+ness, and a’ plays at quoits well, and eats 
+conger and fennel, and drinks off candles’ 
+ends for flap-dragons, and rides the wild-mare 
+with the boys, and jumps upon joined-stools 
+and swears with a good grace, and wears his 
+boots very smooth, like unto the sign of the 
+leg, and breeds no bate with telling of 
+discreet stories; and such other gambol facul- 
+ties a’ has, that show a weak mind and an able 
+body, for the which the prince admits him: 
+for the prince himself is such another; the 
+weight of a hair will turn the scales between 
+their avoirdupois. ‘ 280 
+
+Prince. Would not this nave of a wheel 
+have his ears cut off? 
+
+Poins. Let's beat him before his whore. 
+
+Prince. Look, whether the withered elder 
+hath not his poll clawed like a parrot. 
+
+Poins. Is it not strange that desire should 
+so many years outlive performance? 
+
+Fal. Kiss me, Doll. 
+
+Prince. Saturn and Venus this year in con- 
+junction! what says the almanac to that? 
+
+Pins. And, look, whether the fiery Trigon, 
+his man, be not lisping to his master’s old 
+tables, his note-book, his counsel-keeper. 290 
+
+Fal. Thou dost give me flattering busses. 
+
+Dol. By my troth, I kiss thee with a most 
+constant heart. 
+
+Fal. I am old, I am old. 
+
+Dol. I love thee better than I love e’er a 
+scurvy young boy of them all. 
+
+Fal. What stuff wilt have a kirtle of? I 
+shall receive money o’ Thursday: shalt have 
+a cap to-morrow. A merry song, come: it 
+grows late; we'll to bed. Thou ‘It forget me 
+when I am gone. 
+
+Dol. By my troth, thou ‘It set me a-weep- 
+ing, an thou sayest so: prove’ that ever I dress 
+myself handsome till thy return: well, hearken 
+at the end. 
+
+Fal. Some sack, Francis. 
+
+Prince. 
+
+
+ae Anon, anon, sir. [Coming forward, 
+
+
+yf 
+
+
+’ 
+‘ 
+
+
+Acr II, Sc. IV] 
+
+
+Fal. Ha! a bastard son of the king's? 
+And art not thou Poins his brother ? 
+
+Prince. Why, thou globe of sinful conti- 
+nents, what a life dost thou lead! 310 
+
+Fal. A better than thou: I am a gentle- 
+man; thou art a drawer. 
+
+Prince. Very true, sir; and I come to draw 
+you out by the ears. 
+
+Host. O, the Lord preserve thy good 
+grace! by my troth, welcome to London. 
+Now, the Lord bless that sweet face of thine! 
+O Jesu, are you come from Wales? 
+
+Fal. Thou whoreson mad compound of 
+majesty, by this light flesh and corrupt blood, 
+thou art welcome. 321 
+
+Dol. How, you fat fool! I scorn you. 
+
+Poins. My lord, he will drive you out of 
+your revenge and turn all to a merriment, if 
+you take not the heat. 
+
+Prince. You whoreson candle-mine, you, 
+how vilely did you speak of me even now 
+before this honest, virtuous, civil gentlewoman! 
+
+Host. God's blessing of your good heart! 
+and so she is, by my troth. 330 
+
+Fal. Didst thou hear me? 
+
+Prince. Yea, and you knew me, as you did 
+when you ran away by Gad’s-hill: you knew 
+I was at your back, and spoke it on purpose 
+to try my patience. 
+
+Fal. No, no, no; not so; I did not think 
+thou wast within hearing. 
+
+Prince. I shall drive you then to confess 
+the wilful abuse; and then I know how to 
+handle you. 
+
+Fal. No abuse, Hal, o’ mine honour; no 
+abuse. ; 
+
+Prince. Not to dispraise me, and call me 
+pantler and bread-chipper and I know not 
+what? 
+
+Fal. No abuse, Hal. 
+
+Poins. No abuse? 
+
+Fal. No abuse, Ned, i’ the world; honest 
+Ned, none. I dispraised him before the wick- 
+ed, that the wicked might not fall in love with 
+him; in which doing, I have done the part of 
+a careful friend and a true subject, and thy 
+father is to give me thanks for it. No abuse, 
+Hal: none, Ned, none: no, faith, boys, none. 
+
+Prince. See now, whether pure fear and 
+entire cowardice doth not make thee wrong 
+this virtuons gentlewoman to close with us. 
+Is she of the wicked? is thine hostess here of 
+the wicked? or is thy boy of the wicked? or 
+honest Bardolph, whose zeal burns in his nose, 
+of the wicked? 
+
+Poins. Answer, thou dead elm, answer. 
+
+Fal. The fiend hath pricked down Bar- 
+dolph irrevocable; and his face is Lucifer’s 
+privy-kitchen, where he doth nothing but roast 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+519 
+
+
+malt-worms. For the boy, there is a good 
+angel about him; but the devil outbids him 
+too, 
+
+Prince. For the women? 
+
+Fal. For one of them, she is in hell al- 
+ready, and burns poor souls, For the other, 
+I owe her money; and whether she be damned 
+
+
+for that, I know not. 
+369 
+
+
+Host. No, I warrant you. 
+
+Fal. No, I think thou art not; I think thou 
+art quit for that. Marry, there is another in- 
+dictment upon thee, for suffering flesh to be 
+eaten in thy house, contrary to the law; for the 
+which I think thou wilt howl. 
+
+Host. All victuallers do so: what's a joint 
+of mutton or two in a whole Lent? 
+
+Prince. You, gentlewoman,— 
+
+Dol. What says your grace? 
+
+Fal. His grace says that which his flesh 
+rebels against. [Knocking within. 
+
+Host. Who knocks so loud at door? Look 
+
+
+to the door there, Francis. 
+Enter Peto. 
+
+
+Prince. Peto, how now! what news? 
+Peto, The king your father is at West- 
+minster; 
+And there are twenty weak and wearied posts 
+Come from the north: and, as I came along, 
+I met and overtook a dozen captains, 
+Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns, 
+And asking every one fo: Sir John Falstaff. 
+Prince. By heaven, Poins, I feel me much 
+to blame, 390 
+So idly to profane the precious time, 
+When tempest of commotion, like the south 
+Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt 
+And drop upon our bare unarmed heads. 
+Give me my sword and cloak. Falstaff, good 
+night. 
+[Exeunt Prince Henry, Poins, Peto, 
+and Bardolph, 
+Fal. Now comes in the sweetest morsel of 
+the night, and we must hence and leave it un- 
+picked. [Knocking within.] More knocking at 
+the door! 
+
+
+Re-enter BARDOLPH. 
+
+
+How now! what’s the matter? 400 
+
+Bard. You must away to court, sir, pres- 
+
+ently; 
+A dozen captains stay at door for you. 
+
+Fal. [To the Page] Pay the musicians, 
+sirrah. Farewell, hostess; farewell, Doll. You 
+see, my good wenches, how men of merit are 
+sought after: the undeserver may sleep, when 
+the man of action is called on. Farewell, good 
+wenches: if I be not sent away post, I will see 
+you again ere I go, 
+
+
+520 
+
+
+Dol. I cannot speak; if my heart be not 
+ready to burst,—well, sweet Jack, have a care 
+of thyself. 
+
+Fal. Farewell, farewell. [Exeunt Falstaff 
+
+and Bardolph. 
+
+_ Host. Well, fare thee well: I have known 
+thee these twenty nine years, come peascod- 
+* time; but an honester and truer-hearted man, 
+¢ ¢ e\well, fare thee well. 
+
+\\)* /Bard. [Within] Mistress Tearsheet! 
+
+(F Host. What's the matter > 
+»  ¢  Bard. [Within] Bid Mistress Tearsheet 
+
+* come to my master. Al9 
+
+Host. O, run, Doll, rupy;, run, good Doll: 
+come. [She comesblubbered,] Yea, will you 
+i come, Doll? ‘Ao EExeynt. 
+i ACPI. * an 
+
+An ; 
+
+
+Scene I. Westminster. The palace. 
+/ Enter the Kine in his nightgown, with a Page.) 
+
+
+f 
+
+
+King. Go call the Earls of Surrey and of 
+Warwick; ; 
+But, ere they come, bid them o’er-read these’ 
+é letters, 
+And well consider of them: make good speed. 
+A eae [Exit Page. 
+j How many thousand of my poorest subjects 
+Se Are at this hour asleep! O sleep, O gentle 
+; sleep, ‘| 
+| ® — Nature’s soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, | 
+That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down| 
+And steep my senses in forgetfulness? 
+Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, 
+f _ Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee 10 
+“” And hush’d with buzzing night-flies to thy, 
+; ~ slumber. i 
+j Than in the perfumed chambers of the great, 
+, Under the canopies of costly state, 
+] And lull’d with sound of sweetest melody ? 
+j O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile 
+In loathsome beds, and leavest the kingly couch! 
+4 _ A watch-case or a common ‘larum-bell ? 
+i Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast 
+Seal up the ship-boy’s eyes, and rock his brains 
+i In cradle of the rude imperious surge 20 
+ft And in the visitation of the winds, 
+i Who take the ruffan billows by the top, 
+Curling their monstrous heads and hanging 
+them 
+With deafening clamour in the slippery clouds, 
+That, with the hurly, death itself awakes? 
+Canst thou. O partial sleep, give thy repose 
+To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude, 
+“And in the calmest and most stillest night, 
+' With all appliances and means to boot, 
+Deny it to a king. Then happy low, lie down! 
+7, Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown, 31 
+
+
+| _«¢ — Enter Warwick and Surrey. 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+t i ACs 
+i: a - 
+Gf oN ( 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+{Acr III, Sc. 1 
+
+
+War. Many good morrows to your majesty! 
+
+King. Is it good morrow, lords? 
+
+War. ’Tis one o'clock, and past. 
+
+King. Why, then, good morrow to you all, 
+my: lords. 
+
+
+Have you read o’er the letters that I sent you? 
+
+
+War. We have, my liege. 
+King. ‘Then you perceive the body of oux 
+kingdom 
+
+
+How foul it is; what rank diseases grow. 
+And with what danger, near the heart of it. 40 
+
+
+War. It is but as a body yet distemper’d; 
+
+
+Which to his former strength may be restored 
+With good advice and little medicine: 
+My Lord Northumberland will soon be cool’d. 
+
+
+King. © God! that one might read the 
+book of fate, 
+
+
+-| And see the revolution of the times 
+| Make mountains level, and the continent, 
+
+
+Weary of solid firmness, melt itself 
+
+Into the sea! and, other times, to see 
+
+The beachy girdle of the ocean “50 
+
+Too wide for Neptune’s hips; how chances 
+mock, : 
+
+And changes fill the cup of alteration 
+
+With divers ligours! O, if this were seen,’ 
+
+The happiest youth, viewing his progress 
+through, 
+
+What perils past, what crosses to ensue, 
+
+
+'| Would shut the book, and sit him down and 
+
+
+die. 
+
+
+"Tis not ten years gone 
+
+
+Sly tae 
+
+
+ay 
+
+
+hel 
+
+
+SP = 
+
+
+Since- Richard and Northumberland, great a 
+
+
+friends, : 
+Did feast together, and in two years after 
+Were they at wars: it is but eight years’ since 
+This Percy was the man nearest my soul, 6] 
+Who like a brother toil’d in my affairs © 
+And laid his love and life under my foot, 
+Yea, for my sake, even to the eyes of Richard 
+
+
+Gave him defiance. But which of you was by— e 
+
+
+You, cousin Nevil, as 1 may remember— 
+
+
+[To Warwick. 
+When Richard, with his eye brimful of tears, 
+
+
+Then check’d and rated by Northumberland, 
+Did speak these words, 
+prophecy ? 
+
+
+‘Northumberland, thou ladder by the which 70 4 3 
+
+
+My cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne;” 
+
+
+Though then, God knows, I had no such intent BS 
+
+
+But that necessity so bow’d the state 
+That I and greatness were compell’d to kiss: 
+‘The time shall come,’ thus did he follow it, 
+
+
+\| ‘The time will come, that foul sin, gathering — 
+
+
+head, 
+
+
+Shall break into corruption:’ so went cn, 
+
+
+Foretelling this same time’s condition 
+nd the division of our aznity. 
+
+
+War. There is a history in all men’s lives, 4 
+
+
+now proved a — 
+
+
+Act 
+
+
+Il, Se. 11] 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+521 
+
+
+Figuring the nature of the times deceased; 
+The which observed, a man may prophesy, 
+With a near aim, of the main chance of things 
+As yet not come to life, which in their seeds 
+And weak beginnings lie inireasured. 
+Such things become the hatch and brood of 
+time; ¢ 
+And by the necessary form of this 
+King Richard might create a perfect guess 
+That great Northumberland, then false to him, 
+Would of that seed grow to a greater false- 
+ness; 
+
+Which should not find a ground to root upon, 
+Unless on you. 
+
+King. Are these things then necessities ? 
+Then let us meet them like necessities: 
+And that same word even now cries out on us: 
+They say the bishop and Northumberland 
+Are fifty thousand strong. 
+
+War. It cannot be, my lord; 
+Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo, 
+
+
+The numbers of the fear’d. Please it your 
+
+
+grace 
+To go to bed. Upon my soul, my lord, 
+The powers that you already have sent forth 
+Shall bring this prize in very easily. 101] 
+To comfort you the more, | have received 
+A certain instance that Glendower is dead. 
+Your majesty hath been this fortnight ill, 
+And these unseason’d hours perforce must add 
+Unto your sickness. 
+
+King. I will take your counsel: 
+
+
+_ And were these inward wars once out of hand, 
+
+
+We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. Gloucestershire. Before JUSTICE 
+SHALLow’s house. 
+Enter SHALLOW and SILENCE, meeting; 
+Mou py, SHapow, Wart, FEEBLE, BULL- 
+CALF, a Servant or two with them. 
+
+
+_ Shal. Come on, come on, come on, sir; 
+
+
+give me your hand, sir, give me your hand, 
+sir: an early stirrer, by the rood! And how 
+doth my good cousin Silence? 
+
+_ Sil, Good morrow, good cousin Shallow. 
+
+Shal. And how doth my cousin, your bed- 
+fellow? and your fairest daughter and mine, 
+my god-daughter Ellen? 
+
+Sil. Alas, a black ousel, cousin Shallow! 9 
+
+Shal. By yea and nay, sir, 1 dare say my 
+cousin William is become a good scholar: he 
+is at Oxford still, is he not? 
+
+Sil! Indeed, sir, to my cost. 
+
+Shal. A’ must, then, to the inns o’ court 
+shortly. I was once of Clement's Inn, where 
+I think they will talk of mad Shallow yet. 
+
+Sil. You were called ‘lusty Shallow’ then, 
+cousin. 
+
+
+Shal. By the mass, I was called any thing; 
+and J would have done any thing indeed too, 
+and roundly too. There was I, and little John 
+| Doit of Staffordshire, and black George 
+Barnes, and Francis Pickbone, and Will 
+Squele, a Cotswold man; you had not four 
+such swinge-bucklers in all the inns o’ court 
+again: and | may say to you, we knew where 
+the bona-robas were and had the best of them 
+all at commandment. Then was Jack Fal- 
+staff, now Sir John, a boy, and page te 
+Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk. 
+
+Sil. This Sir John, cousin, that comes hither 
+anon about soldiers ? 31 
+
+Shal. The same Sir John, the very same. | 
+see him break Skogan’s head at the court-gate, 
+when a’ was a crack not thus high: and the 
+very same day did | fight with one Sampson 
+Stockfish, a fruiterer, behind Gray’s Inn. Jesu, 
+Jesu, the mad days that I have spent! and to 
+see how many of my old a.quaintance are 
+dead! j 
+
+Sil. We shall all follow, cousin. 39 
+
+Shal. Certain, ‘tis certain; very sure, very 
+sure: death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to 
+all; all shall die. How a good yoke of bul- 
+locks at Stamford fair? 
+
+Sil. By my troth, I was not there. 
+
+Shal. Death is certain. Is old Double of 
+your town living yet? 
+
+Sil. Dead, sir. 
+
+Shal. Jesu, Jesu, dead! a’ drew a good 
+bow; and dead! a’ shot a fine shoot: John 
+a Gaunt loved him well, and betted much 
+money on his head. Dead! a’ would have 
+clapped i’ the clout at twelve score; and car- 
+ried you a forehand shaft a fourteen and four- 
+teen and a half, that it would have done a 
+man’s heart good to see. How a score of ewes 
+now > 
+
+Sil. Thereafter as they be: a score of good 
+ewes may be worth ten pounds, 
+
+Shal. And is old Double dead? 
+
+Sil. Here come two of Sir John Falstaft’s 
+men, as | think. 60 
+
+
+Enter BARDOLPH and one with him. 
+
+
+Bard. Good morrow, honest gentlemen: [| 
+beseech you, which is Justice Shallow > 
+
+Shal. 1 am Robert Shallow, sir: a poor 
+esquire of thi$ county, and one of the king’s 
+justices of the peace: what is your good plea- 
+sure with me? 
+
+Bard. My captain, sir, commends him to 
+you; my captain, Sir John Falstaff, a tall 
+gentleman, by heaven, and a most gallant 
+leader. 
+
+Shal. He greets me well, sir. I knew him 
+a good backsword man. How doth the good 
+
+
+522 SECOND PART OF 
+
+
+/ 
+
+
+KING HENRY IV [Acr II, Sc. II 
+
+
+knight? may I ask how my lady his wife 
+doth? ‘ 
+
+Bard. Sir, pardon; a soldier is better ac- 
+commodated than with a wife. 
+
+Shal. It is well said, in faith, sir; and it is 
+well said indeed too. Better accommodated! 
+it is good; yea, indeed, is it: good phrases are 
+surely, and ever were, very commendable. Ac- 
+commodated! it comes of ‘accommodo:’ very 
+good; a good phrase. 79 
+
+ard. Pardon me, sir; I have heard the 
+word. Phrase call you it? by this good day, 
+I know not the phrase; but I will maintain the 
+word with my sword to be a soldier-like word, 
+and a word of exceeding good command, by 
+heaven. Accommodated; that is, when a man 
+is, as they say, accommodated; or when a man 
+is, being, whereby a’ may be thought to be 
+accommodated; which is an excellent thing. 
+
+Shal. It is very just. 
+
+
+Enter FALSTAFF, 
+
+
+Look, here comes good Sir John. Give me 
+your good hand, give me your worship’s good 
+hand: by my troth, you like well and bear 
+your years very well: welcome, good Sir John. 
+
+Fal. | am glad to see you well, good Mas- 
+ter Robert Shallow: Master Surecard, as I 
+think ? 
+
+Shal. No, Sir John; it is my cousin Silence, 
+in commission with me. 
+
+Fal. Good Master Silence, it well befits 
+you should be of the peace. 
+
+Sil. Your good worship is welcome. 100 
+
+Fal. Fie! this is hot weather, gentlemen. 
+Have you provided me here half a dozen sufh- 
+cient men ? 
+
+Shal. Marry, have we, sir. Will you sit? 
+
+Fal. Let me see them, I beseech you. 
+
+Shal. Where's the roll? where 's the roll? 
+where's the roll? Let me see, let me see, let 
+me sce. So, so, so, so, so, so, so: yea, marry, 
+sir: Ralph Mouldy! Let them appear as 
+call; let them do so, let them do so. Let me 
+see; where is Mouldy ? V1 
+
+Moul. Here, an’t please you. 
+
+Shal. What think you, Sir John? a good- 
+limbed fellow; young, strong, and of good 
+friends. 
+
+Fal. Is thy name Mouldy? 
+
+Moul. Yea, an't please you. 
+
+Fal. “Tis the more time thou wert used. 
+
+Shal. Ha, ha, ha! most excellent, i’ faith! 
+things that are mouldy lack use: very singular 
+good! in faith, well said. Sir John, very well 
+said, 
+
+Fal. Prick him. 121 
+
+Moul. 1 was pricked well enough before, 
+an you could have let me alone: my old dame } 
+
+
+will be undone now for one to do her hus- 
+bandry and her drudgery: you need not to 
+have pricked me; there are other men fitter 
+to go out than I, 
+
+Fal. Go to: peace, Mouldy; you shall go. 
+Mouldy, it is time you were spent. 
+
+Moul. Spent! 129 
+
+Shal. Peace, fellow, peace; stand aside: 
+know you where you are? For the other, Sir 
+John: let me see: Simon Shadow! 
+
+Fal. Yea, marry, let me have him to sit 
+under: he’s like to be a cold soldier, 
+
+Shal. Where's Shadow ? 
+
+Shad. Here, sir. 
+
+Fal. Shadow, whose son art thou? 
+
+Shad. My mother’s son, sir. 
+
+Fal. Thy mother’s son! like enough, and 
+thy father’s shadow: so the son of the female 
+is the shadow of the male: it is often so, in- 
+
+
+9 | deed; but much of the father’s substance! 
+
+
+Shal. Do you like him, Sir John? 
+
+Fal. Shadow will serve for summer; prick 
+him, for we have a number of shadows to fill 
+up the muster-book. 
+
+Shal. Thomas Wart! 
+
+Fal. Where ’s he? 
+
+Wart. Here, sir. 
+
+Fal. Is thy name Wart? 
+
+Wart. Yea, sir. 
+
+Fal. Thou art a very ragged wart. 
+
+Shal. Shall I prick him down, Sir John? 
+
+Fal. It were superfluous; for his apparel is 
+built upon his back and the whole frame stands 
+upon pins: prick him no more. 
+
+Shal. Ha, ha, ha! you can do it, sir; you 
+ee do it: I commend you well. Francis Fee- 
+
+e! 
+
+Fee. Here, sir. 
+
+Fal. What trade art thou, Feeble? 
+
+Fee. A woman's tailor, sir. 
+
+Shal. Shall I prick him, sir? 
+
+Fal. You may: but if he had been a man’s 
+tailor, he Id ha’ pricked you. Wilt thou make 
+as many holes in an enemy’s battle as thou hast 
+done in a woman’s petticoat? 
+
+Fee. I will do my good will, sir: you can 
+have no more. 
+
+Fal. Well said, good woman's tailor! well 
+said, courageous Feeble! thou wilt be as val- 
+iant as the wrathful dove or most magnan- 
+imous mouse. Prick the woman's tailor: well, 
+Master Shallow; deep, Master Shallow. 
+
+Fee. I would Wart might have gone, sir. 
+
+Fal. I would thou wert a man’s tailor, that 
+thou might’st mend him and make him fit to 
+go. I cannot put him to a private soldier that 
+is the leader of so many thousands: let that 
+suffice, most forcible Feeble. 
+
+Fee. It shall suffice, sir. 360 
+
+
+150 
+
+
+160 
+
+
+Pe Oe el ee ee Oe ee 
+
+
+ee ae 
+
+
+Act III, Se. Il}. SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+523 
+
+
+Fal. 1 am bound to thee, reverend Feeble. 
+Who is next? 
+
+Shal, Peter Bullcalf 0’ the green! 
+
+Fal. Yea, marry, let’s see Bullcalf. 
+
+Bull. Here, sir. 
+
+Fal. ‘Fore God, a likely fellow! 
+prick me Bullcalf till he roar again. 
+
+Bull, O Lod! good my lord captain, — 
+
+Fal. What, dost thou roar before thou art 
+pricked ? 190 
+
+Bull. O Lord, sir! I am a diseased man. 
+
+Fal. What disease hast thou? 
+
+Bull. A whoreson cold, sir, a cough, sir, 
+which I caught with ringing in the king’s 
+affairs upon his coronation-day, sir. 
+
+Fal. Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a 
+gown; we will have away thy cold; and I will 
+take such order that thy friends shall ring for 
+thee. Is here all> | 
+
+Shal. Here is two more called than your 
+
+
+Come, 
+
+
+_ number; you must have but four here, sir: and 
+
+
+so, | pray you, go in with me to dinner. 
+
+Fal. Come, | will go drink with you, but I 
+cannot tarry dinner. I am glad to see you, by 
+my troth, Master Shallow. 
+
+Shal. O, Sir John, do you remember since 
+we lay all night in the windmill in Saint 
+George's field? 
+
+Fal. No more of that, good Master Shal- 
+low, no more of that. 
+
+Shal. Ha! ‘twas a merry night. And is 
+Jane Nightwork alive? 211 
+
+Fal. She lives, Master Shallow. 
+
+Shal. She never could away with me. 
+
+Fal. Never, never; she would always say 
+she could not abide Master Shallow. 
+
+Shal.. By the mass, I could anger her to the 
+heart. She was then a bona-roba. Doth she 
+hold her own well? : 
+
+Fal. Old, old, Master Shallow. 219 
+
+Shal. Nay, she must be old; she cannot 
+choose but be old; certain she's old; and had 
+Robin Nightwork by old Nightwork before I 
+came to Clement's Inn. 
+
+Sil. That's fifty five year ago. 
+
+Shal. Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst 
+seen that that this knight and I have seen! Ha, 
+Sir John, said I well? 
+
+Fal. We have heard the chimes at mid- 
+night, Master Shallow. 229 
+
+Shal. That we have, that we have, that we 
+have; in faith, Sir John, we have: our watch- 
+word was ‘Hem boys!’ Come, let's to dinner; 
+come, lets do dinner: Jesus, the days that we 
+have seen! Come. come. 
+
+[Exeunt Falstaff and the Justices. 
+
+Bull. Good Master Corporate Bardolph, 
+stand my friend;’ and here's four Harry ten 
+shillings in French crowns for you. In very 
+
+
+truth, sir, I had as lief be hanged, sir, as go: 
+and yet, for mine own part, sir, I do not care; 
+but rather, because I am unwilling, and, for 
+mine own part, have a desire to stay with my 
+friends; else, I did not care, for mine own 
+part, so much. 
+
+Bard. Go to; stand aside. 
+
+Moul. And, good master corporal captain, 
+for my old dame’s sake, stand my friend: she 
+has nobody to do any thing about her when I 
+am gone; and she is old, and cannot help her- 
+self: you shall have forty, sir. 
+
+Bard. Go to; stand aside. 249 
+
+Fee. By my troth, I care not; a man can die 
+but once: we owe God a death: | ‘ll ne’er bear 
+a base mind: an't be my destiny, so; ant be 
+not, so: no man is too good to serve ’s prince; 
+and let it go which way it will, he that dies © 
+this year is quit for the next. 
+
+Bard. Well said; thou 'rt a good fellow. 
+
+Fee. Faith, Ill bear no base mind. 
+
+
+Re-enter FALSTAFF and the Justices. 
+
+
+Fal. Come, sir, which men shall I have? 
+
+Shal. Four of which you please. 
+
+Bard. Sir, a word with you: I have three 
+pound to free Mouldy and Bullcalf. 261 
+
+Fal. Go to; well. 
+
+Shal, Come, Sir John, which four will you 
+have? 
+
+Fal. Do you choose for me. 
+
+Shal. Marry, then, Mouldy, Bullcalf, Fee- 
+ble and Shadow. 
+
+Fal. Mouldy and Bullcalf: for you, 
+Mouldy, stay at home till you are past service: 
+and for your part, Bullcalf, grow till you 
+come unto it: I will none of you. 27\ 
+
+Shal. Sir John, Sir John, do not yourself 
+wrong: they are your likeliest men, and I 
+would have you served with the best. 
+
+Fal. Will you tell me, Master Shallow, 
+how to choose a man? Care [| for the limb, 
+the thewes, the stature, bulk, and big assem- 
+blance of a man! Give me the spirit, Master 
+Shallow. Here's Wart; you see what a rag- 
+ged appearance it is: a’ shall charge you and 
+discharge you with the motion of a pewterer’s 
+hammer, come off and on swifter than he that 
+gibbets on the brewer's bucket. And this same 
+half-faced fellow, Shadow; give me this man: 
+he presents no mark to the enemy; the foe- 
+man may with as great aim level at the edge 
+of a penknife. And for a retreat; how 
+swiftly will this Feeble the woman’s tailor run 
+off! O, give me the spare men, and spare me 
+the great ones. Put me a caliver into Wart's 
+hand, Bardolvh.’ 290 
+
+Bard. Hold; Wart, traverse; thus, thus, thus. 
+
+
+Fal, Come, manage me your caliver. So: 
+
+
+524 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+Vy 
+
+
+very well: go to: very good, exceeding good. 
+O, give me always a little, lean, old, chapt, 
+bald shot. Well said, i’ faith, Wart; thou ’rt 
+a good scab: hold, there’s a tester for thee. 
+Shal. He is not his craft’s master; he doth 
+not do it right. I remember at Mile-end 
+Green, when I| lay at Clement's Inn,—I was 
+then Sir Dagonet in Arthur's show,—there was 
+a little quiver fellow, and a’ would manage 
+you his piece thus; and a’ would about and 
+about, and come you in and come you im: ‘rah, 
+tah, tah,’ would a’ say; ‘bounce’ would a’ say; 
+and away again would a’ go, and again would 
+
+
+a’ come: I shall ne’er see such a fellow. 
+
+
+Fal. These fellows will do well, Master 
+Shallow. God keep you, Master Silence: I 
+will not use many words with you. Fare you 
+
+well, gentlemen both: I thank you: I must a 
+dozen mile to-night. 
+diers coats. 
+
+Shal. Sir John, the Lord bless you! God 
+prosper your affairs! God send us peace! 
+At your return visit our house; let our old ac- 
+quaintance be renewed: peradventure | will 
+with ye to the court. 
+
+Fal. ‘Fore God, I would you would, Mas- 
+ter Shallow. 
+
+Shal. Go to; I have spoke at a word. God 
+keep you. 2408320 
+
+Fal. Fare you well, gentle gentlemen. 
+[Exeunt Justices.| On, Bardolph; lead the 
+men away. [Exeunt Bardolph, Recruits, &c.] 
+As I return, I will fetch off these justices: I 
+do see the bottom of Justice Shallow. Lord, 
+Lord, how subject we old men are to this vice 
+of lying! This same starved justice hath done 
+nothing but prate to me of the wildness of his 
+youth, and the feats he hath done about Turn- 
+bull Street; and every third word a lie, duer 
+paid to the hearer than the Turk’s tribute. I 
+do remember him at Clement’s Inn like a man 
+made after supper of a cheese-paring: when 
+a’ was naked, he was, for all the world, like 
+a forked radish, with a head fantastically 
+carved upon it with a knife: a’ was so forlorn, 
+that his dimensions to any thick sight were in- 
+yvincible: a’ was the very genius of famine; 
+yet lecherous as a monkey, and the whores 
+called him mandrake: a’ came ever in the 
+rearward of the fashion, and sung those tunes 
+to the overscutched huswives that he heard the 
+carmen whistle, and sware they were his fan- 
+cies or his good-nights. And now is this 
+Vice’s dagger become a squire and talks as 
+familiarly of John a Gaunt as if he had been 
+sworn brother to him; and I'll be sworn a’ 
+ne’er saw him but once in the Tilt-yard; and 
+then he burst his head for crowding among the 
+marshal’s men. | saw it, and told John a 
+
+
+Bardolph, give the sol-. 
+
+
+Gaunt he beat his own name; for you might 
+have thrust him and all his apparel into an 
+eel-skin; the case of a treble hautboy was a 
+mansion for him, a court: and now has he land 
+and beefs. Well, I Il be acquainted with him, 
+if I return; and it shall go hard but I will 
+make him a philosopher’s two stones to me: if 
+the young dace be a bait for the old pike, I 
+see no reason in the law of nature but I may 
+snap at him. Let time shape, and there an 
+
+
+end, [Exit. 
+
+
+ACT IV. 
+
+
+Scene I. Yorkshire. Cauliree Forest. 
+
+
+Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, Mowsray, 
+Hastincs, and others. 
+
+
+Arch. What is this forest call’d? 
+
+Hast. "Tis Gaultree Forest, ant shall 
+
+please your grace. 
+
+Arch. Here stand, my lords; and send dis- 
+
+coverers forth 
+To know the numbers of our enemies. 
+
+Hast. We have sent forth already. 
+
+Arch. *Tis well done. 
+My friends and brethren in these great affairs, 
+I must acquaint you that I have received 
+New-dated letters from Northumberland; 
+Their cold intent, tenour and substance, thus: 
+Here doth he wish his person, with such 
+
+powers 
+As might hold sortance with his quality, 1 
+The which he could not levy; whereupon 
+He is retired, to ripe his growing fortunes, 
+To Scotland: and concludes in hearty prayers 
+That your attempts may overlive the hazard 
+And fearful meeting of their opposite. 
+Mowb. Thus do the hopes we have in him 
+touch ground 
+And dash themselves to pieces. 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+Hast. ~’ Now, what news* 
+
+Mess. West of this forest, scarcely off a 
+a mile, 
+
+In goodly form comes on the enemy; 20 
+
+And, by the ground they hide, I judge their 
+number 
+
+
+Upon or near the rate of thirty thousand. 
+Mowb. The just proportion that we gave 
+them out. 
+Let us sway on and face them in the field. 
+Arch. What well-appointed leader front: 
+us here? : 
+Enter WESTMORELAND. 
+Mowb. | think it is my Lord of Westmore- 
+land. 
+West. Health and fair greeting from our 
+general, 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. 
+
+
+' Aerivy Seely} 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+525 
+
+
+The prince, Lord John and Duke of Lancas- 
+
+
+tere 
+Arch. Say on, my Lord of Westmoreland, 
+in peace. 
+What doth concern your coming? 
+West. Then my lord, 30 
+Unto your grace do I in chief address 
+The substance of my speech. If that rebellion 
+Came hike itself, in base and abject routs, 
+Led on by bloody youth, guarded with rags, 
+And countenanced by boys and beggary, 
+I say, if damn’d commotion so appear’ 
+In his true, native and most proper shape! 
+You. reverend father, and these noble lords 
+Had not been here, to dress the ugly form 
+Of base and bloody insurrection 
+With your honours. You, lord archbishop, 
+Whose see is by a civil peace maintain’d, 
+‘Whose beard the silver hand of peace hath 
+touch’d, 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+- Whose learning and good letters peace hath 
+
+
+tutor’d, 
+Whose white investments figure innocence, 
+‘The dove and very blessed spirit of peace, 
+Wherefore do you so ill translate yourself 
+Out of the speech of peace that bears such 
+grace, 
+Into the harsh and boisterous tongue of war; 
+‘Turning your books to fgraves, your ink to 
+blood, 
+‘Your pens to lances and your tongue divine 
+‘To a loud trumpet and a point of war? 
+Arch. Wherefore do | this? so the ques- 
+tion stands. 
+Briefly to this end: we are all diseased, 
+And with our surfeiting and wanton hours 
+‘Have brought ourselves into a burning fever, 
+And we must bleed for it; of which disease 
+‘Our late king, Richard, being infected, died. 
+But; my most noble Lord of Westmoreland, 
+J take not on me here as a physician, 60 
+‘Nor do | as an enemy to peace 
+‘Troop in the throngs of military men; 
+‘But rather show awhile like fearful war, 
+‘To diet rank minds sick of happiness 
+
+
+And purge the obstructions which begin to stop | 
+
+
+‘Our very veins of life. Hear me more 
+plainly. 
+
+T have in equal balance justly weigh’d 
+
+“What wrongs our arms may do, what wrongs 
+we suffer, 
+
+And find our griefs heavier than our offences. 
+
+We see which way the stream of time doth 
+“run, 
+
+And are enforced from our most quiet there 71 
+
+By the rough torrent of occasion; 
+
+And have the summary of all our griefs, 
+
+‘When time shall serve, to show in articles; 
+
+
+Which long ere this we offer’d to the king, 
+
+
+And might by no suit gain our audience: 
+When we are wrong’d and would unfold our 
+griefs, 
+We are denied access unto his person 
+Even by those men that most have done us 
+wrong. 
+The dangers of the days but newly gone, 80 
+Whose memory is written on the earth 
+With yet appearing blood, and the examples 
+Of every minute's instance, present now, 
+Hath put us in these ill-beseeming arms, 
+Not to break peace or any branch of it, 
+But to establish here a peace indeed, 
+Concurring both in name and quality. 
+West. When ever yet was your appeal de- 
+nied > 
+Wherein have you been galled by the king? 89 
+What peer hath been suborn’d to grate on 
+you, 
+That you should seal this lawless bloody book 
+Of forged rebellion with a seal divine 
+And consecrate commotion’s bitter edge? 
+Arch. {My brother general, the common- 
+wealth, 
+To brother born an household cruelty, 
+I make my quarrel in particular. 
+West. There is no need of any such re- 
+dress; 
+Or if there were, it not belongs fo you. 
+Mowb. Why not to him in part, and te 
+us all 
+That feel the bruises of the days before, 10C 
+And suffer the condition of these times 
+To lay a heavy and unequal hand 
+Upon our honours ? 
+W est. O, my good Lord Mowbray, 
+Construe the times to their necessities, 
+And you shall say indeed, it is the time, 
+And not the king, that doth you injuries. 
+Yet for your part, it not appears to me 
+
+
+| Either from the king or in the present time 
+| That you should have an inch of any ground 
+To build a grief on? were you nof restored 110 
+
+
+To all the Duke of Norfelk’s sisnories, 
+
+
+|Your noble and right well remember’d father’s ? 
+
+
+Mowb. What thing, in honour, had my 
+father Tost, 
+That need to be revived and breathed in me? 
+The king that loved him, as the state stood 
+then, 
+Was force perforce compell’d to banish him: 
+
+
+And then that Henry Bolingbroke and he, 
+
+
+| Being mounted and both rovsed in their seats, 
+| Their neighboring coursers daring of the spur, 
+| Their armed staves in charge, their beavers 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+down, 
+
+
+"| Their eyes of fire sparkling through sights of 
+
+
+steel 
+And the loud trumpet blowing them tdesdien, 
+
+
+526 
+
+
+Then, then, when there was nothing could 
+have stay'd 
+My father from the breast.of Bolingbroke, 
+O, when the king did throw his warder down, 
+His own life hung upon the staff he threw; 
+Then threw he down himself and all their lives 
+That by indictment and by dint of sword 
+Have since miscarried under Bolingbroke. 
+West. You speak, Lord Mowbray, now 
+you know not what. 130 
+The Earl of Hereford was reputed then 
+In England the most valiant gentleman: 
+Who knows on whom fortune would then have 
+smiled > 
+But if your father had been victor there, 
+He ne’er had borne it out of Coventry: 
+For all the country in a general voice 
+Cried hate upon him; and all their prayers 
+and love 
+Were set on Hereford, whom they doted on 
+And bless’d and graced indeed, more than the 
+king. 
+But this is mere digression from my purpose. 
+Here come I from our princely general 141 
+To know your griefs; to tell you from his 
+grace 
+That he will give you audience; and wherein 
+It shall appear that your demands are just, 
+You shall enjoy them, every thing set off 
+That might so much as think you enemies. 
+Mowb. But he hath forced us to compel 
+this offer; 
+And it proceeds from policy, not love. 
+West. Mowbray, you overween to take it 
+
+
+so; 
+This offer comes from mercy, not from fear: 
+For, lo! within a ken our army lies, 151 
+
+
+Upon mine honour, all too confident 
+
+To give admittance to a thought of fear. 
+
+Our battle is more full of names than yours, 
+Our men more perfect in the use of arms, 
+Our armour all as strong, our cause the best; 
+Then reason will our hearts should be as good: 
+Say you not then our offer is compell’d. 
+
+
+Mowb. Well, by my will we shall admit 
+
+
+no parley. 
+West. That argues but the shame of your 
+offence: 160 
+
+
+A rotten case abides no handling. 
+Hast. Hath the Prince John a full com- 
+mission, 
+In very ample virtue of his father, 
+To hear and absolutely to determine 
+Of what conditions we shall stand upon? 
+West. That is intended in the general's 
+name: 
+I muse you make so slight a question. 
+Arch. Then take. my Lord of Westmore- 
+jand, this schedule, 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc. I 
+
+
+For this contains our general grievances: 
+
+Each several article herein redress'd, 170 
+
+All members of our cause,, both here and 
+hence, 
+
+That are insinew’d to this action, 
+
+Acquitted by a true substantial form 
+
+And present execution of our wills 
+
+To us and to our purposes confined, 
+
+We come within our awful banks again 
+
+And knit our powers to the arm of peace. 
+
+West. This will I show the general. Please 
+
+you, lords, 
+
+In sight of both our battles we may meet; 
+
+And either end in peace, which God so frame! 
+
+
+_| Or to the place of difference call the swords 
+
+
+Which must decide it. 
+Arch. My lord, we will do so. [Exit West. 
+Mowb. There is a thing within my bosom 
+tells me 
+That no conditions of our peace can stand. 
+Hast. Fear you not that: if we can make 
+our peace 
+Upon such large terms and so absolute 
+As our conditions shall consist upon, 
+Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky moun- 
+tains. 
+
+Mowb. Yea, but our valuation shall be such 
+That every slight and false-derived cause, 190: 
+Yea, every idle, nice and wanton reason 
+Shall to the king taste of this action; 
+That, were our royal faiths martyrs in love, 
+We shall be winnow'd with so rough a wind 
+That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff 
+And good from bad find no partition. 
+
+Arch. No, no, my lord. Note this; the 
+
+king is weary 
+
+Of dainty and such picking grievances: : 
+For he hath found to end one doubt by death 
+Revives two greater in the heirs of life, 200 
+And therefore will he wipe his tables clean 
+And keep no tell-tale to his memory 
+That may repeat and history his loss 
+To new remembrance; for full well he knows 
+He cannot so precisely weed this land 
+As his misdoubts present occasion: 
+His foes are so enrooted with his friends 
+That, plucking to unfix an enemy, 
+He doth unfasten so and shake a friend: 
+So that this land, like an offensive wife 210: 
+That hath enraged him on to offer strokes, 
+As he is striking, holds his infant up 
+And hangs resolved correction in the arm 
+That was uprear’d to execution. 
+
+oe Besides, the king hath wasted all his: 
+
+rods 
+
+On late offenders, that he now doth lack 
+The very instruments of chastisement: 
+So that his power, like to a fangless lion, 
+May offer, but not hold. 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+Se 2 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+th 5. 
+
+
+- 
+
+
+Act IV, Se: I] 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+527 
+
+
+Arch. "Tis very true: 
+
+And therators be assured, my good lord mar- 
+shal, 
+
+If we do now make our atonement well, 221 
+Our peace will, like a broken limb united, 
+Grow stronger for the breaking. 
+
+Mowb. Be it so. 
+Here is return’d my Lord of Westmoreland. 
+
+
+Re-enter WESTMORELAND. 
+
+
+West. The prince is here at hand: pleaseth 
+
+your lordship 
+To meet his grace just distance ‘tween our 
+
+arinies. 
+
+Mowb. Your grace of York, in God's 
+name, then set forward. 
+
+Arch. Before, and greet his grace: my 
+lord, we come. [Exeunt. 
+Scene II. Another part of the forest. 
+
+
+_ Enter, from one side, Mowsray, attended ; 
+afterwards the ARCHBISHOP, HastTINGs, 
+and others: from the other side, PRINCE 
+JouNn oF LaNcasTER, and WESTMORELAND; 
+Officers, and others with them. 
+
+
+Lan. You are well encounter'd here, my 
+cousin Mowbray: 
+Good day to you, gentle lord archbishop; 
+And so to you, Lord Hastings, and to all. 
+My Lord of York, it better show'd with you 
+When that your flock, assembled by the bell, 
+Encircled you to hear with reverence 
+Your exposition on the holy text 
+Than now to see you here an iron man, 
+Cheering a rout of rebels with your drum, 
+Turning the word to sword and life to death. 
+That man that sits within a monarch’s heart, 
+And ripens in the sunshine of his favour, 
+Would he abuse the countenance of the king, 
+Alack, what mischiefs might he set abroach 
+In shadow of such greatness! With you, lord 
+bishop, 
+
+It is even so. Who hath not heard it spoken 
+How deep you were within the books of God? 
+To us the speaker in his parliament; 
+To us the imagined voice of God himself; 
+The very opener and intelligencer i 
+Between the grace, the sanctities of heaven 
+And our dull workings. O, who shall believe 
+But you misuse the reverence of your place, 
+Employ the countenance and grace of heaven, 
+As a false favourite doth his prince’s name, 
+In déeds dishonorable? You have ta’en up, 
+Under the counterfeited zeal of God, 
+The subjects of his substitute, my father, 
+And both against the peace of heaven and him 
+Have here up-swarm'd them. 
+
+Arch. Good my Lerd of Lancaster, 30 
+
+
+I am not here against your father’s peace: 
+
+
+But, as I told my Lord of Wesmoreland, 
+The time misorder’d doth, in common sense, 
+Crowd us and crush us to this monstrous form, 
+To hold our safety up. I sent your grace 
+The parcels and particulars of our grief, 
+The which hath been with scorn shoved from 
+the court, 
+Whereon his Hydra son of war is born; 
+Whose dangerous eyes may well be charm'd 
+asleep 
+With grant of our most just and right desires, 
+And true obedience, of this madness cured, 4] 
+Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty. 
+Mowb. If not, we ready ate to try our 
+fortunes 
+To the last man. 
+Hast. And though we here fall down, 
+We have supplies to second our attempt: 
+If they miscarry, theirs shall second them; 
+And so success of mischief shall be born 
+And heir from heir shall hold this quarrel up 
+Whiles England shall have generation. 
+Lan. You are too shallow, Hastings, much 
+too shallow, 
+To sound the bottom of the after-times. 
+West. Pleaseth your grace to answer them 
+directly 
+How far forth you do like their articles. 
+Lan. I like them all, and do allow them 
+well, 
+And swear here, by the honour of my blood, 
+My father’s purposes have been mistook, 
+And some about him have too lavishly 
+Wrested his meaning and authority. 
+
+
+‘| My lord, these griefs shall be with speed re- 
+
+
+dress'd; 
+Upon my soul, they shall. If this may please 
+you, 60 
+Discharge your powers unto their several 
+counties, 
+
+
+As we will ours: and here between the armies 
+Let’s drink together friendly and embrace, 
+That all their eyes may bear those tokens 
+home 
+Of our restored love and amity. 
+Arch. 1 take your princely word for these 
+redresses. 
+Lan. I give it you, and will maintain my 
+word: 
+And thereupon | drink unto your grace. 
+Hast. Go, captain, and deliver to the army 
+This news of peace: let them have pay, and 
+
+
+part: 
+
+I know it will well please them. Hie thee, 
+. captain, [Exit Officer. 
+Arch. To you, my noble Lord of West- 
+
+moreland. 
+
+
+West. I pledge your grace: and, if you 
+knew what pains 
+
+
+528 
+
+
+I have bestow’d to breed this present peace, 
+You would drink freely: but my love to ye 
+Shall show itself more openly hereafter. 
+
+
+Arch. | do not doubt you. 
+West. I am glad of it. 
+Health to my lord and gentle cousin, Mow- 
+bray. 
+Mowb. You wish me health in very happy 
+season ; 
+
+
+For I am, on the sudden, something ill. 80 
+Arch. Against ill chances men are ever 
+merry ; 
+But heaviness foreruns the good event. 
+West. Therefore be merry, coz; since sud- 
+den sorrow 
+Serves to say thus, ‘some good thing comes to- 
+morrow.” 
+Arch. Believe me, I am passing light in 
+spirit. 
+Mowb. So much the worse, if your own 
+rule be true. [Shouts within. 
+Lan. The word of peace is render’d: hark, 
+how they shout! 
+Mowb. This had been cheerful after vic- 
+tory. 
+Arch. A peace is of the nature of a con- 
+quest; 
+For then both parties nobly are subdued, 90 
+And neither party loser. 
+Lan. Go, my lord, 
+And let our army be discharged too. 
+[Exit Westmoreland. 
+And, good my lord, so please you, let our 
+frais 
+March by us, that we may peruse the men 
+We should have coped withal. 
+Arch. Go, good Lord Hastings, 
+And, ere they be dismiss'd, let them march by. 
+[Exit Hastings. 
+Dees I trust, lords, we shall lie to-night 
+together. 
+
+
+Re-enter WESTMORELAND. 
+
+
+Now cousin, wherefore stands our army still? 
+West. The leaders, having charge from you 
+to stand, 
+Will not go off until they hear you speak. 100 
+Lan. They know their duties. 
+
+
+Re-enter HasTINGs. 
+
+
+Hast. My lord, our army is dispersed al- 
+ready: 
+Like youthful steers unyoked, they take their 
+
+
+courses 
+East, «west, north, south; or, like a school 
+broke up, 
+Each hurries toward his home and sporting- 
+place. 
+West. Good tidings, my Lord Hastings; 
+
+
+for the which 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+Se ee eh iy iat 
+
+
+[Acr IV, $c, Ill 
+
+
+I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason: 
+And you, lord archbishop, and you, lord 
+Mowbray, 
+Of capital treason | attach you both. 
+Mowb. Is this proceeding just and honour- 
+able > 110 
+West. Is your assembly so? 
+Arch. Will you thus break your faith? 
+Lan. I pawn’d thee none: 
+I promised you redress of these same grievances 
+Whereof you did complain; which, by mine 
+honour, 
+I will perform with a most Christian care. 
+But for you, rebels, look to taste the due 
+Meet for rebellion and such acts as yours. 
+Most shallowly did you these arms commence, 
+Fondly brought here and foolishly sent hence. 
+Strike up our drums, pursue the scatter’d stray: 
+God, and not we, hath safely fought to-day. 
+Some guard these traitors to the block of death, 
+Treason’s true bed and yielder up of breath. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Another part of the forest. 
+
+
+Excursions. Enter FALSTAFF and 
+COLEVILE, meeting. 
+
+
+Fal. What's your name, sir? of what con- 
+dition are you, and of what place, I pray? 
+Cole. I am a knight, sir; and my name is 
+
+
+Scene III. 
+Alarum. 
+
+
+‘Colevile of the dale: 
+
+
+Fal. Well, then, Colevile is your name, a 
+knight is your degree, and your place the dale: 
+Colevile shall be still your name, a traitor 
+your degree, i aby dungeon your place, a 
+place deep enough; so shall you be still Cole- 
+vile of the dale. 10 
+
+Cole. Are not you Sir John Falstaff? 
+
+Fal. As good a man as he, sir, whoe’er I 
+am. Do ye yield, sir? or shall I sweat for. 
+you? If I do sweat, they are the drops of thy 
+lovers, and they weep for thy death: therefore 
+rouse up fear and trembling, and do observ- 
+ance to my mercy. 
+
+Cole. I think you are Sir John Falstaff, oS 
+in that thought yield me. 
+
+Fal. I have a whole school of we in 
+this belly of mine, and not a tongue of them 
+all speaks any other word but my name. An 
+I had but a belly of any indifferency, I were 
+simply the most active fellow in Europe: my 
+womb, my womb, my womb, undoes me. Here 
+comes our general. 
+
+
+Enter Prince JOHN oF LANcasTER, WEST- 
+MORELAND, BLUNT, and others. 
+
+
+Lan. The heat is past; 
+now: 
+
+
+Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland. 
+{Exit Westmoreland. 
+
+
+follow no further 
+
+
+we. rs : : ats A 
+Act IV, Sc. III] © SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+529 
+
+
+Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this 
+while? f 
+
+When every thing is ended, then you come: 
+These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life, 
+One time or other break some gallows’ back. 
+
+Fal. 1 would be sorry, my lord, but it 
+should be thus: I never knew yet but rebuke 
+and check was the reward of valour. Do you 
+think me a swallow, an arrow, or a bullet? 
+have I, in my poor and old motion, the expedi- 
+tion of thought? I have speeded hither with 
+the very extremest inch of possibility; I have 
+foundered nine score and odd posts: and here, 
+travel-tainted as I am, have, in my pure and 
+immaculate valour, taken Sir John Colevile of 
+
+
+_ the dale, a most furious knight and valorous 
+
+
+enemy. But what of that? he saw me, and 
+yielded; that I may justly say, with the hook- 
+nosed fellow of Rome, ‘I came, saw, and 
+overcame. 
+
+Lan. It was more of his courtesy than your 
+deserving. 
+
+Fal. 1 know not: here he is, and here I 
+yield him: and | beseech your grace, let it be 
+booked with the rest of this day’s deeds; or, 
+by the Lord, I will have it in a particular 
+ballad else, with mine own picture on the top 
+on't, Colevile kissing my foot: to the which 
+course if I be enforced, if you do not all show 
+like gilt two-pences to me, and | in the clear 
+sky of fame o’ershine you as much as the full 
+moon doth the cinders of the element, which 
+show like pins’ heads to her, believe not the 
+word of the noble: therefore let me have right, 
+and let desert mount. 61 
+
+Lan. Thine’s too heavy to mount. 
+
+Fal. Let it shine, then. 
+
+Lan. Thine’s too thick to shine. 
+
+Fal. Let it do something, my good lord, that 
+may do me good, and call it what you will. 
+
+Lan. Is thy name Colevile? 
+
+Cole. It is, my lord. 
+
+Lan. A famous rebel art thou, Colevile. 69 
+
+Fal. A famous true subject took him. 
+
+Cole. 1 am, my lord, but as my betters are 
+That led me hither: had they been ruled by me, 
+You should have won them dearer than you 
+
+have. 
+
+Fal. 1 know not how they sold themselves: 
+but thou, like a kind fellow, gavest thyself 
+away gratis; and I thank thee for thee. 
+
+
+Re-enter WESTMORELAND. 
+
+
+Lae 
+Lan. Now, have you left pursuit? 
+West. Retreat is made and execution stay ‘d. 
+Lan. Send Colevile with his confederates 
+
+
+~ To York, to present execution: 
+
+
+Blunt, lead him hence; and see you guard 
+him sure. 
+
+
+at 
+
+
+[Exeunt Blunt and others with Colevile. 
+And now dispatch we toward the court, my 
+lords: 
+I hear the king my father is sore sick: 
+Our news shall go before us to his majesty, 
+Which, cousin, you shall bear to comfort him, 
+And we with sober speed will follow you. 
+Fal. My lord, I beseech you, give me leave 
+to go 
+Through Gloucestershire: and, when you come 
+to court, 
+Stand my good lord, pray, in your good report. 
+Lan. Fare you well, Falstaff: I, m my 
+condition, 
+Shall better speak of you than you deserve. 
+[Exeunt all but Falstaff. 
+Fal. I would you had but the wit: ‘twere 
+better than your dukedom. Good faith, this 
+same young sober-blooded boy doth not love 
+me; nor a man cannot make him laugh; but 
+thats no marvel, he drinks no wine. There ’s 
+never none of these demure boys come to any 
+proof; for thin drink doth so over-cool their 
+blood, and making many fish-meals, that they 
+fall into a kind of male green-sickness; an 
+then, when they marry, they get wenches: they 
+are generally fools and cowards; which some of 
+us should be too, but for inlammation. A good 
+sherris-sack hath a two-fold operation in it. It 
+ascends me into the brain; dries me there all 
+the foolish and dull and crudy vapours which 
+environ &; makes it apprehensive, quick, for- 
+getive, full of nimble fiery and delectable 
+shapes; which, delivered o'er to the voice, the 
+tongue, which is the birth, becomes excellent 
+wit. The second property of your excellent 
+sherris is, the warming of the blood; which, 
+before cold and settled, left the liver white and 
+pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity and 
+cowardice; but the sherris warms it and makes 
+it course from the inwards to the parts ex- 
+treme: it illumineth the face, which as a bea- 
+con gives warning to all the rest of this little 
+kingdom, man, to arm; and then the vital com- 
+moners and inland petty spirits muster me all 
+to their captain, the heart, who, great and 
+puffed up with this retinue, doth any deed of 
+courage; and this valour comes of sherris. So 
+that skill in the weapon 1s nothing without 
+sack, for that sets it a-work; and learning a 
+mere hoard of gold kept by a devil, till sack 
+commences it and sets it in act and use. Here- 
+of comes it that Prince Harry is valiant; for 
+the cold blood he did naturally inherit from 
+his father, he hath, like lean, sterile and bare 
+land, manured, husbanded and tilled with ex- 
+cellent endeavour of drinking good and good 
+store of fertile sherris, that h2 is become very 
+hot and valiant. If I had a thousand: sons, 
+
+
+530 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+{Act IV, Sc. IV 
+
+
+the first humane principle I would teach them 
+should be, to forswear thin potations and to 
+addict themselves to sack. 
+
+
+Enter BARDOLPH. 
+
+
+How now, Bardolph? 
+Bard. The army is discharged all and gone. 
+Fal, Let them go. I'll through Gloucester- 
+shire; and there will I visit Master Robert 
+Shallow, esquire: I have him already temper- 
+ing between my finger and my thumb, and 
+shortly will I seal with him. Come away. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Westminster. The Jerusalem 
+
+
+Chamber. 
+
+
+Enter the Kinc, the PRINCES THOMAS OF 
+CLARENCE and HuMpPHREY OF GLOUCEs- 
+TER, WARWICK, and others. 
+
+King. Now, lords, if God doth give suc- 
+cessful end 
+
+To this debate that bleedeth at our doors, 
+
+We will our youth lead on to higher fields 
+
+And draw no swords but what are sanctified. 
+
+Our navy is address'd, our power collected, 
+
+Our substitutes in absence well invested, 
+
+And every thing lies level to cur wish: 
+
+Only, we want a little personal strength; 
+
+And pause us, till these rebels, now afoot, 
+
+Come underneath the yoke of government. 10 
+War. Both which we doubt not but your 
+
+majesty 
+
+Shall soon enjoy. 
+
+King. Humphrey, my son of Gloucester, 
+
+Where is the prince your brother? 
+
+Glou. | think he's gone to hunt, my lord, 
+at Windsor. 
+
+King. And how accompanied ? 
+
+Glou. I do not know, my lord. 
+
+King. Is not his brother, Thomas of Cla- 
+rence, with him? 
+
+Glou. No, my good lord; he is in presence 
+here. 
+
+Clar. What would my lord and father? 
+
+King. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of 
+
+
+Clarence. 
+How chance thou art not with the prince thy 
+brother ? 20 
+
+
+He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, 
+Thomas; 
+
+Thou hast a better place in his affection 
+
+Than all thy brothers: cherish it, my boy, 
+
+And noble offices thou mayst effect 
+
+Of mediation, after I am dead, 
+
+Between his greatness and thy other brethren: 
+
+Therefore omit him not; blunt net his love, 
+
+Nor lose the good advantage of his grace 
+
+By seeming cold or careless of his will; 
+
+For he is gracious, if he be observed: 30 
+
+
+He hath a tear for pity and a hand 
+Open as day for melting charity: 
+Yet notwithstanding, being incensed, he’s flint, 
+As humorous as winter and as sudden 
+As flaws congealed. in the spring of day. 
+His temper, therefore, must be well observed: 
+Chide him for faults, and do it reverently, 
+When. you perceive his blood inclined to mirth; 
+But, being moody, give him line and scope, 
+Till that his passions, like a whale on ground, 
+Confound themselves with working. Learn 
+this, Thomas, 4] 
+And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends, 
+A hoop of gold to bind thy brothers in, 
+That the united vessel of their blood, 
+Mingled with venom of suggestion— 
+As, force perforce, the age will pour it in— 
+Shall never leak, though it do work as strong 
+As aconitum or rash gunpowder. 
+Clar. 1 shall observe him with all care 
+and love. 
+King. Why art thou not at Windsor with 
+him, Thomas? 
+Clar. He is not there to-day; he dines in 
+London. 
+
+
+King. And how accompanied? canst thou 
+
+
+tell that? 
+
+Clar. With Poins, and other his continual 
+followers. 
+
+King. Most subject is the fattest soil to 
+weeds; 
+
+
+And he the noble image of my youth, 
+
+Is overspread with them: therefore my grief 
+
+Stretches itself beyond the hour of death: 
+
+The blood weeps from my heart when I do 
+shape 
+
+In forms imaginary the unguided days 
+
+And rotten times that you shall look upon 60 
+
+When I am sleeping with my ancestors. 
+
+For when his headstrong riot hath no curb, 
+
+When rage and hot blood are his counsel- 
+lors, 
+
+When means and lavish manners meet together, 
+
+O, with what wings shall his affections fly 
+
+Towards fronting peril and opposed decay! 
+
+War. My gracious lord, you look beyond 
+
+him quite: 
+
+The prince but studies his companions 
+
+Like a strange tongue, wherein, to gain the 
+language, 
+
+‘Tis needful that the most immodest word 70 
+
+Be look’'d upon and learn’d; which once 
+attain’d, 
+
+Your highness knows, comes to no further use 
+
+But to be known and hated. So, like gross 
+terms, 
+
+The prince will in the perfectness of time 
+
+Cast off his followers; and their memory 
+
+Shall as a pattern or a measure live, 
+
+
+~“e 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. V] 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+531 
+
+
+By which his grace must mete the lives of 
+others, 
+Turning past evils to advantages. 
+King. “Tis seldom when the bee doth leave 
+her comh 
+In the dead carrion. 
+
+
+Enter WESTMORELAND. 
+
+
+Who’s here? Westmoreland? 80 
+- West. WHcalth to my sovereign, and new 
+happiness 
+Added to that that I am to deliver! 
+Prince John your son doth kiss your grace’s 
+hand: 
+Mowbray, the Bishop Scroop, Hastings and all 
+Are brought to the correction of your law; 
+There is not now a rebel’s sword unsheathed, 
+But Peac= puts forth her olive every where. 
+The manner how this action hath been borne 
+Here at more leisure may your highness read, 
+With every course in his particular. 
+King. O Westmoreland, thou art a sum- 
+mer bird, 
+Which ever in the haunch of winter sings 
+The lifting up of day. 
+Enter Harcourt. 
+
+
+Look, here’s more news. 
+Har. From enemies heaven keep your 
+- majesty; 
+age fee they stand against you, may they 
+all 
+As those that I am come to tell you of! 
+The Earl Northumberland and the Lord Bar- 
+dolph, 
+With a great power of English and of Scots, 
+Are by the sheriff of Yorkshire overthrown: 
+The manner and true order of the fight 100 
+This packet, please it you, contains at large. 
+King. And wherefore should these good 
+news make me sick? 
+Will Fortune never come with both hands full, 
+But write her fair words still in foulest letters ? 
+She either gives a stomach and no food; 
+Such are the poor, in health; or else a feast 
+And takes away the stomach; such are the rich, 
+That have abundance and enjoy it not. 
+I should rejoice now at this happy news; . 
+And now my sight fails, and my brain is 
+giddy: 110 
+O me! come near me; row | am much ill. 
+Glou. Comfort, your majesty! 
+Clar. O my royal father! 
+West. My sovereign lord, cheer up your- 
+self, look up. 
+War. Be patient, princes; you do know, 
+these fits 
+Are with his highness very ordinary. 
+Stand from him, give him air; he'll straight 
+be weii. 
+
+
+Clar. No, no, he cannot long hold out these 
+pangs: 
+The incessant care and labour of his mind 
+Hath wrought the mure that should confine 
+
+
+it in 
+So thin that life looks through and will break 
+out. 120 
+Glou. The people fear me; for they do 
+observe 
+
+
+Unfather'd heirs and loathly births of nature: 
+The seasons change their manners, as the year 
+Had found some months asleep and leap'd 
+them over. 
+Clar. The river hath thrice flow’d, no ebb 
+between; 
+And the old folk, time's doting chronicles, 
+Say it did so a little time before 
+That our great-grandsire, Edward, sick’d and 
+died. 
+War. Speak lower, princes, for the king 
+recovers. 
+Glou. This apoplexy will certain be his end. 
+King. | pray you, take me up, and bear me 
+hence 131 
+Into some other chamber: softly, pray. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene V. Another chamber. 
+
+
+The Kine lying on a bed; CLARENCE, 
+GLouceEsTER, WARWICK, and others in at- 
+tendance. 
+
+
+King. Let there be no noise made, my 
+gentle friends; 
+Unless some dull and favourable hand 
+Will whisper music to my weary spirit. 
+
+
+War. Call for the music in the other room. 
+
+King. Set me the crown upon my pillow 
+here. 
+
+Clar. His eye is hollow, and he changes 
+much. 
+
+War. Less noise, less noise! 
+
+
+Enter Prince HENRY. 
+Prince. Who saw the Duke of Clarence? 
+
+
+Clar. I am here, brother, full of heaviness. 
+Prince. How now! rain within doors, and 
+none abroad! 
+
+How doth the king? 
+
+Glou. Exceeding ill. 
+
+Prince. Heard he the good news yet? 
+Tell it him. 
+
+Glou. He alter’d much upon the hearing it. 
+
+Prince. If he be sick with joy, he'll re- 
+cover without physic. 
+
+
+War. Not so much noise, my lords: sweet 
+prince, speak low; 
+The king your father is disposed to sleep. 
+Clar, Let us withdraw into the other room, 
+
+
+532 
+
+
+War. Will't please your grace to go along 
+with us? 
+Prince. No; I will sit and watch here by 
+the king. [Exeunt all but the Prince. 20 
+Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow, 
+Being so troublesome a bedfellow ? 
+O polish’d perturbation! golden care! 
+That keep’st the ports of slumber open wide 
+To many a watchful night! sleep with it now! 
+Yet not so sound and half so deeply sweet 
+As he whose brow with homely biggen bound 
+Snores out the watch of night. O majesty! 
+When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit 
+Lik~ a rich armour worn in heat of day, 30 
+That scalds with safety. By his gates of breath 
+There lies a downy feather which stirs not: 
+Did he suspire, that light and weightless down 
+Perforce must move. My gracious lord! my 
+father! 
+This sleep is sound indeed; this is a sleep 
+That from this golden rigol hath divorced 
+So many English kings. Thy due from me 
+Is tears and heavy sorrows of the blood, 
+Which nature, love, and filial tenderness, 
+Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously: 40 
+My due from thee is this imperial crown, 
+Which, as immediate from thy place and blood, 
+Derives itself to me. Lo, here it sits, 
+"hich God shall guard: and put the world’s 
+whole strength 
+Into one giant arm, it shall not force 
+This lineal honour from me: this from thee 
+Will I to mine leave, as ‘tis left to me. [Exit. 
+King. Warwick! Gloucester! Clarence! 
+
+
+Re-enter Warwick, GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, 
+and the rest. 
+
+
+Clar. Doth the king call? 
+War. What would your majesty? How 
+fares your grace? 50 
+King. Why did you leave me here alone, 
+my lords? 
+Clar. We left the prince my brother here, 
+my liege, ' 
+Who undertook to sit and watch by you. 
+King. The Prince of Wales! Where is he? 
+let me see him: 
+He is not here. 
+War. This door is open; he is gone this way. 
+Glou. He came not through the chamber 
+where we stay'd. 
+Xing. Where is the crown? who took it 
+from my pillow? 
+War. When we withdrew, my liege, we left 
+it here. 
+King. The prince hath ta’en it hence: go. 
+seek him out. 60 
+Is he so hasty that he doth suppose 
+My sleep my death? 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+ae EO 
+UNG Ba 
+1Acr IV, Se. y. 
+
+
+Find him, my Lord of Warwick; chide him 
+hither. [Exit Warwick. 
+
+This part of his conjoins with my disease, 
+
+And helps to end me. See, sons, what things 
+you are! 
+
+How quickly nature falls into revolt 
+
+When gold becomes her object! 
+
+For this the foolish over-careful fathers 
+Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their 
+brains with care, 
+Their bones with industry; 70 
+
+For this they have engross’d and piled up 
+The canker’d heaps of strange-achieved gold; 
+For this they have been thoughtful to invest 
+Their sons with arts and material exercises: 
+When, like the bee, culling from every flower 
+The virtuous sweets, 
+
+Our thighs pack’d with wax, our mouths with 
+
+honey, 
+
+We bring it to the hive, and, like the bees, 
+Are murdered for our pains. This bitter taste 
+Yield his engrossments to the ending father. 80 
+
+
+Re-enter WaRwIck. 
+
+
+Now, where is he that will not stay so long 
+Till his friend sickness hath determined me? 
+War. My lord, I found the prince in the 
+next room. , 
+Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks, 
+With such a deep demeanour in great sorrow 
+That tyranny, which never quaff'd but blood, 
+Would, by beholding him, have wash'd his 
+knife 
+With gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither. 
+King, But wherefore did he take away the 
+crown ? 
+Re-enter Prince HENRY. 
+
+
+Lo, where he comes. 
+arry. 
+Depart the chamber, leave us here alone. 
+[Exeunt Warwick and the rest. 
+Prince. I never thought to hear you speak 
+again. 
+King. Thy wish was father, Harry, to that 
+thought: 2 
+I stay too long by thee, I weary thee. 
+Dost thou so hunger for mine empty chair 
+That thou wilt needs invest thee with my 
+honours 
+Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth! 
+Thou seek’st the greatness that will overwhelm 
+thee. |! 
+Stay but a little; for my cloud of dignity 
+Is held from falling with so weak a wind 100 
+That it will quickly drop: my day is dim. 
+Thou hast stolen that which after some few 
+hours 
+Were thine without offence; and at my death 
+Thou hast seal’d up my expectation: 
+
+
+Come hither to me, 
+
+
+90 
+
+
+uk 
+
+
+a4 
+
+
+» oo tS pein ee 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+. 
+
+
+a) ras: 3 ” 7S 
+Act IV, Se. V] 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+533 
+
+
+Thy life did manifest thou lovedst me not 
+And thou wilt have me die assured of it. 
+Thou hidest a thousand daggers in 
+thoughts, 
+Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart, 
+To stab at half an hour of my life. 109 
+What! canst thou not forbear me half an hour ? 
+Then get thee gone and dig my grave thyself, 
+And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear 
+That thou art crowned, not that I am dead. 
+Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse 
+Be drops of balm to sanctify thy head: 
+Only compound me with forgotten dust; 
+Give that which gave thee life unto the worms. 
+Pluck down my officers, break my decrees; 
+For now a time is come to mock at form: 
+Harry the Fifth is crown'd: up, vanity! 120 
+Down, royal state! all you sage counsellors, 
+hence! 
+And to the English court assemble now, 
+From every region, apes of idleness! 
+Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your 
+scum: 
+Have you a ruffian that will swear, drink, 
+dance, 
+Revel the night, rob, murder, and commit 
+The oldest sins the newest kind of ways? 
+Be happy, he will trouble you no more; 
+England shall double gild his treble guilt, 129 
+England shall give him office, honour, might; 
+For the fifth Harry from curb’d license plucks 
+The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog 
+Shall flesh his tooth on every innocent, 
+O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows! 
+When that my care could not withhold thy 
+
+
+riots, 
+
+
+thy 
+
+
+~ What wilt thou do when riot is thy care? 
+
+
+O, thou wilt be a wilderness again, 
+
+Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants! 
+Prince. O, pardon me, my liege! but for 
+
+my tears, 
+
+The moist impediments unto my speech, 140 
+
+I had forestall'd this dear and deep rebuke 
+
+Ere you with grief had spcke and I had heard 
+
+The course of it so far. There is your crown; 
+
+And He that wears the crown immortally 
+
+Long guard it yours! If I affect it more. 
+
+
+- Than as your honour and as your renown, 
+
+
+Let me no more from this obedience rise, 
+
+
+Which my most inward true and duteous spirit 
+
+
+Teacheth, this prostrate and exterior bending. 
+God witness with me, when I here came in,150 
+And, found no course of breath within your 
+majesty, 
+
+How cold it struck my heart! If I do feign, 
+O, let me in my present wildness die 
+
+And never live to show the incredulous world 
+The noble change that I have purposed! 
+
+
+By Coming to look on you, thinking you dead, 
+
+
+¥ 
+K 
+
+
+And dead almost, my liege, to think you were, 
+
+I spake unto this crown as having sense, 
+
+And thus upbraided it: “The care on thee de- 
+pending 
+
+Hath fed upon the body of my father; 160 
+
+Therefore, thou best of gold art worst of gold: 
+
+Other, less fine in carat, is more precious, 
+
+Preserving life in medicine potable; 
+
+But thou, most fine, most honour’d, most re- 
+nown'd, 
+
+Hast eat thy bearer up.’ Thus, my most royal 
+liege, 
+
+Accusing it, I put it on my head, 
+
+To try with it, as with an enemy 
+
+That had before my face murder’d my father, 
+
+The quarrel of a true inheritor. 
+
+But if it did infect my blood with joy, 170 
+
+Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride; 
+
+If any rebel or vain spirit of mine 
+
+Did with the least affection of a welcome 
+
+Give entertainment to the might of it, 
+
+Let God for ever keep it from my head 
+
+And make me as the poorest vassal is 
+
+That doth with awe and terror kneel to it! 
+
+King. O my son, 
+
+God put it in thy mind to take it hence, 
+
+That thou mightst win the more thy father’s 
+love, 180 
+
+Pleading so wisely in excuse of it! 
+
+Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed; 
+
+And hear, I think, the very latest counsel 
+
+That ever I shall breathe. God knows, my 
+son, 
+
+By what by-paths and indirect crook’d wages) 
+
+I met this crown; and I myself know well 
+
+How troublesome it sat upon my head. 
+
+To thee it shall descend with beiter quiet, 
+
+Better opinion, better confirmation; 
+
+For all the soil of the achievement goes 
+
+With me into the earth. It seem’d in me 
+
+But as an honour snatch’d with boisterous 
+hand 
+
+And I had many living to upbraid 
+
+My gain of it by their assistances; 
+
+Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed, 
+
+Wounding supposed peace: all these bold fears 
+
+Thou see’st with peril I have answered; 
+
+For all my reign hath been but as a scene 
+
+Acting that argument: and now my death 
+
+Changes the mode; for what in me was pur- 
+chased, 200 
+
+Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort; 
+
+So thou the garland wear’st successively. 
+
+Yet, though thou stand’st more sure than I 
+could do, 
+
+Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are 
+green; Pati 
+
+And all my friends, which thou must make thy 
+friends, 
+
+
+190 
+
+
+534 
+
+
+Have but their stings and teeth newly ta’en 
+out; 
+
+By whose fell working I was first advanced 
+
+And by whose power I well might lodge a fear 
+
+To be again displaced: which to avoid, 
+
+I cut them off; and had a purpose now, 210 
+
+To lead out many to the Holy Land, 
+
+Lest rest and lying still might make them look 
+
+Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry, 
+
+Be it thy course to busy giddy minds 
+
+With foreign quarrels; that action, hence 
+
+borne out, 
+
+May waste the memory of the former days. 
+
+More would I, but my lungs are wasted so 
+
+That strength of speech is utterly denied me. 
+
+How I came by the crown, O God forgive; 
+
+And grant it may with thee in true peace live! 
+Prince. My gracious liege, 221 
+
+You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me; 
+
+Then plain and right must my possession be: 
+
+Which I with more than with a common pain 
+
+‘Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain. 
+
+
+Enter Lorp JOHN oF LANCASTER. 
+
+
+King. Look, look, here comes my John of 
+Lancaster. 
+Lan. Health, peace, and happiness to my 
+royal father! 
+King. Thou bring’st me happiness and 
+peace, son John; 
+But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown 
+From this bare wither'd trunk: upon thy sight 
+My worldly business makes a period. 231 
+Where is my Lord of Warwick? 
+Prince. My Lord of Warwick! 
+
+
+Re-enter WARWICK, and others. 
+
+
+King. Doth any name particular belong 
+Unto the lodging where [ first did swoon? 
+War. ‘Tis call'd Jerusalem, my noble lord. 
+King. Laud be to God! even there my life 
+must end. 
+It hath been prophesied to me many years, 
+I should not die but in Jerusalem; 
+Which vainly I supposed the Holy Land: 239 
+But bear me to that chamber; there I ‘Il lie; 
+In that Jerusalem shall Harry die. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT V. 
+
+
+Scene I. Gloucestershire. SHALLOW'S house. 
+
+
+Enter SHALLow, FALSTAFF, BARDOLPH, 
+and Page. 
+
+
+Shal. By cock and pie, sir, you shall not 
+away to-night. What, Davy, I say! 
+
+Fal. You must excuse me, Master Robert 
+Shallow. ’ 
+
+Shal. I will not excuse you; you shall not 
+be excused: excuses shall not be admitted; 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+[Act V, Se. f 
+
+
+there is no excuse shall serve; you shall not be 
+
+
+excused, Why, Davy! 
+Enter Davy. 
+
+
+Davy. Here, sir. 9 
+
+Shal. Davy, Davy, Davy, Davy, let me see, 
+Davy; let me see, Davy; let me see: yea, 
+marry, William cook, bid him come hither. 
+Sir John, you shall not be excused. 
+
+Davy. Marry, sir, thus; those precepts can- 
+not be served: and, again, sir, shall we sow the 
+headland with wheat? 
+
+Shal. With red wheat, Davy. But for 
+William cook: are there no young pigeons? 
+
+Davy. Yes, sir. Here is now the smith’s 
+note for shoeing and plough-irons. 20 
+
+Shal. Let it be cast and paid. Sir Joha, 
+you shall not be excused. 
+
+Davy. Now, sir, a new link to the bucket 
+must needs be had: and, sir, do you mean to 
+stop any of William's wages, about the sack 
+he lost the other day at Hinckley fair? 
+
+Shal. A’ shall answer it. Some pigeons, 
+Davy, a couple of short-legged hens, a joint 
+of mutton, and any pretty little tiny kickshaws, 
+tell William cook. 30 
+
+Davy. Doth the man of war stay all night, 
+sir? 
+
+Shal. Yea, Davy. I will use him well: a 
+friend i’ the court is better than a penny in 
+purse. Use his men well, Davy; for they are 
+arrant knaves, and will backbite. 
+
+Davy. No worse than they are backbitten, 
+sir; for they haye marvellous foul linen. 
+
+Shal. Well conceited, Davy: about thy 
+business, Davy. 40 
+
+Davy. I beseech you, sir, to countenance 
+William Visor of Woncot against Clement 
+Perkes of the hill. 
+
+Shal. There is many complaints, Davy, 
+against that Visor: that Visor is an arrant 
+knave, on my knowledge. 
+
+Davy. I grant your worship that he is a 
+knave, sir; but yet, God forbid, sir, but a 
+knave should have some countenance at his 
+friend's request. An honest man, sir, is able 
+to speak for himself, when a knave is not. | 
+have served your worship truly, sir, this eight 
+years; and jf I cannot once or twice in a 
+quarter bear out a knave against an hones: 
+man, I have but a very little credit with 
+your worship. The knave is mine honest 
+friend, sir; therefore, | beseech your worship, 
+let him be countenanced. 
+
+Shal. Go to: I say he shall have no wrong. 
+Look about, Davy. [Exit Davy.] Where 
+are you, Sir John? Come, come, come, off 
+with your boots. Give me your hand, Master 
+
+
+Bardolnh. 
+
+
+Bard. 1 am glad to see your worship. 
+
+Shal. I thank thee with all my heart, kind 
+Master Bardolph: and welcome, my tall fel- 
+
+_ low [to the Page]. Come, Sir John. 
+
+Fal. I'll follow you, good Master Robert 
+Shallow. [Exit Shallow.] Barlolph, look to 
+our horses. [Exeunt Bardolph and Page.] If 
+
+1 were sawed into quantities, I should make 
+four dozen of such bearded hermits’ staves as 
+Master Shallow. It is a wonderful thing to 
+see the semblable coherence of his men’s spirits. 
+and his: they, by observing of him, do bear 
+themselves like foolish justices; he, by con- 
+versing with them, is turned into a justice-like 
+serving-man: their spirits are so married in 
+
+conjunction with the participation of society 
+that they flock together in consent, like so 
+many wild-geese. If I had a suit to Master 
+Shallow, I would humour his men with the 
+imputation of being near their master: if to his 
+~ men, I would curry with Master Shallow that 
+ho man could better command his servants. It 
+is certain that either wise bearing or ignorant 
+carriage is caught as men take diseases, one of 
+another: therefore Jet men take heed of their 
+company. I will devise matter enough out of 
+this Shallow to keep Prince Harry in con- 
+ tinual laughter the wearing out of six fashions, 
+
+- which is four terms, or two actions, and a’ 
+shall, laugh without intervallums. O, it is 
+
+much that a lie with a slight oath and a jest 
+
+i with a sad brow will do with a fellow that 
+
+__ iRever had the ache in his shoulders! O, you 
+shall see him laugh till his face be like a wet 
+
+cloak ill laid up! 
+
+_ Skal. [Within] Sir John! 
+
+
+ae Fal. b 'come, Master Shallow; I come, 
+Master Shallow. [Exit. 
+Scene Il. Westminster. The palace. 
+
+
+- Enter Warwick and the Lcrp CHIEF- 
+ea Justice, meeting. 
+7 War. How now, my lord chief-justice! 
+_- _ whither away? 
+Ch. Just. How doth the king? 
+_ War. Exceeding well; his cares are now 
+all ended. : 
+meCh. Just. I hope, not dead. 
+War. He 's walk’d the way of nature; 
+And to our purposes he lives no more. 
+Ch. Just. I would his majesty had call’d 
+me with him: 
+_ The service that I truly did his life 
+Hath left me open to all injuries. 
+_ War. Indeed I think the young king loyes 
+
+
+you not. 
+Ch. Just. I know he doth not, and do arm 
+&: myself 10 
+
+
+‘To welcome the candition of the time, 
+
+
+535 
+
+
+Which cannot look more hideously upon me 
+Than I have drawn it in my fantasy. 
+
+
+Enter LANCASTER, CLARENCE, GLOUCESTER, 
+WESTMORELAND, and others. 
+
+
+War. Here come the heavy issue of dead 
+Harry: 
+
+O that the living Harry had the temper 
+
+Of him, the worst of these three gentlemen! 
+
+How many nobles then should hold their places, 
+
+That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort! 
+Ch. Just. O God, I fear all will be over- 
+
+turn’d! 
+Lan. Good morrow, cousin Warwick, good 
+morrow. 20 
+Glou. 
+Clar, 
+Lan. We meet like men that had forgot is 
+speak. F 
+War. We do remember; but our argument 
+
+Is all too heavy to’ admit much talk. 
+
+Lan. Well, peace be with him that hath 
+made us heavy! é 
+
+Ch, Just. Peace be with us, lest we be 
+heavier ! 
+
+Glou. O, good my lord, you have lost a 
+friend indeed; i 
+
+And I dare swear you borrow not that face 
+
+Of seeming sorrow, it is sure your own. 
+Lan, Though’no man be assured what grace 
+
+to find, 
+
+You stand in coldest expectation: 
+
+I am the sorrier; would ‘twere otherwise. 
+Clar. Well, you must now speak Sir Jobn 
+Falstaff fair; 
+
+Which swims against your stream of quality. 
+Ch, Just. Sweet princes, what I did, I did 
+
+in honour, 
+
+Led by the impartial conduct of my soul; 
+
+And never shall you see I will beg 
+
+A ragged and forestall’d remission. 
+
+If truth and upright innocency fail me, 
+
+I'll to the king my master that is dead, 40 
+
+And tell him who hath sent me after him. 
+War, Here comes the prince. 
+
+
+Enter Kine Henry the Fifth, attended. 
+Ch, Just. Good morrow; and God save 
+
+
+your majesty! 
+King. This new and gorgeous garment, 
+majesty, 
+Sits not so easy on me as you think. 
+Brothers, you mix your sadness with some fear: 
+This is the English, not the Turkish court; 
+Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds, 
+But Harry Harry. Yet be sad, good brothers, 
+For, by my faith, it very well becomes you :50 
+Sorrow so rovally in you appears 
+
+
+) . 
+' Good morrow, cousin. 
+
+
+t- 
+
+
+536 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV [Act Vv, Sc. HI 
+
+
+See ee eae 
+
+
+That I will deeply put the fashion on 
+And wear it in my heart: why then, be sad; 
+But entertain no more of it, good brothers, 
+Than a joint burden laid upon us all. 
+For me, by heaven, I bid you be assured, 
+i'll be your father and your brother too; 
+Let me but bear your love, I ‘Il bear your cares: 
+Yet weep that Harry's dead; and so will I; 
+But Harry lives, that shall convert those tears 
+By number into hours of happiness. 
+
+Princes. We hope no other from your ma- 
+
+
+Therefore still bear the balance and the sword: 
+And I do wish your honours may increase, 
+Till you do live to see a son of mine 
+Offend you and obey you, as I did. 
+So shall I live to speak my father’s words: 
+‘Happy am I, that have a man so bold, 
+That dares do justice on my proper son; 
+And not less happy, having such a son, 110 
+That would deliver up his greatness so 
+Into the hands of justice. You did commit 
+me: 
+
+
+jesty. For which, I do commit into your hand 
+King. You all look strangely on me: and} The unstained sword that you have used to 
+you most; bear; 
+
+
+You are, | think, assured I love you not. 
+Ch. Just. 1 am assured, if I be measured 
+rightly, 
+Your majesty hath no just cause to hate me. 
+King. No! : 
+How might a prince of my great hopes forget 
+So great indignities you laid upon me? 69 
+What! rate, rebuke, and roughly send to prison 
+The immediate heir of England! Was this 
+easy? 
+May this be wash'd in Lethe, and forgotten? 
+Ch. Just. I then did use the person of your 
+father; 
+The image of his power lay then in me: 
+And, in the administration of his law, 
+Whiles I was busy for the commonwealth, 
+Your highness pleased to forget my place, 
+The majesty and power of law and justice, 
+The image of the king whom I presented, 
+And struck me in my very seat of judgement; 
+Whereon, as an offender to your father, 8l 
+i gave bold way to my authority 
+And did commit you. If the deed were ill, 
+Be you contented, wearing now the garland, 
+To have a son set your decrees at nought, 
+To pluck down justice from your awful bench, 
+To trip the course of law and blunt the sword 
+That guards the peace and safety of your 
+person; 
+Nay, more, to spurn at your most royal image 
+And mock your workings in a second body.90 
+Question your royal thoughts, make the case 
+yours; 
+Be now the father and propose a son, 
+Wear your own dignity so much profaned, 
+See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted, 
+Behold yourself so by a son disdain’d; 
+And then imagine me taking your part 
+And in your power soft silencing your son: 
+After this cold considerance, sentence me; 
+And, as you are a king, speak in your state 
+What I have done that misbecame my place, 
+My person, or my liege’s sovereignty. 101 
+: King. You are right, justice, and you weigh 
+this well; 
+
+
+With this remembrance, that you use the same 
+
+With the like bold, just and impartial spirit 
+
+As you have done ’gainst me. There is my 
+
+hand. 
+You shall be as a father to my youth: 
+My voice shall sound as you do prompt mine 
+ear, 
+
+And I will stoop and humble my intents 120 
+
+To your well-practised wise directions. 
+
+And, princes all, believe me, I beseech you; 
+
+My father is gone wild into his grave, 
+
+For in his tomb lie my affections; 
+
+And with his spirit sadly I survive, 
+
+To mock the expectation of the world, : 
+
+To frustrate prophecies and to raze out 
+
+Rotten opinion, who hath writ me down 
+
+After my seeming. The tide of blood in me 
+
+Hath proudly flow'd in vanity till now: 130 
+
+How doth it turn and ebb back to the sea, 
+
+Where it shall mingle with the state of floods 
+
+And flow henceforth in formal majesty. 
+
+Now call we our high court of parliament: 
+
+And let us choose such limbs of noble counsel, 
+
+That the great body of our state may go 
+
+In equal rank with the best govern’d nation; 
+
+That war, or peace, or both at once, may be 
+
+As things acquainted and familiar to us; 
+
+In which you, father, shall have foremost hand. 
+
+Our coronation done, we will accite, 141 
+
+As I before remember’d. all our state: 
+
+And, God consigning to my good intents, 
+
+No prince nor peer shall have just cause to say, 
+
+God shorten Harry’s happy life one day! 
+[Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene III. Gloucestershire. SHALLOW’S 
+orchard. 
+
+
+Enter FALSTAFF, SHALLOW, SILENCE, Davy, 
+Barpo.pH, and the Page. 
+
+
+Shal. Nay, you shall see my orchard, 
+where, in an arbour, we will eat a last year's 
+pippin of my own graffing, with a dish of 
+
+
+and then to bed. 
+
+
+caraways, and so forth: come, cousin Silence? 
+
+
+“Fal a 
+
+
+ewes. 
+
+
+ons 
+
+
+Acr V, Sc. III] 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+537 
+
+
+Fal. ‘Fore God, you have here a goodly 
+dwelling and a rich. 
+
+Shal. Barren, barren, barren; beggars all, 
+beggars all, Sir John: marry, good air. Spread, 
+Davy; spread, Davy: well said, Davy. 10 
+
+This Davy serves you for good uses; 
+he is your serving-man and your husband. 
+
+Shal. A good varlet, a good varlet, a very 
+good varlet, Sir John: by the mass, I have 
+drunk too much sack at supper: a good varlet. 
+Now sit down, now sit down: come, cousin. 
+
+Sil. Ah, sirrah! quoth-a, we shall 
+
+Do nothing but eat, and make good cheer, 
+
+[ Singing, 
+
+And praise God for the merry year; 
+
+When flesh is cheap and females dear, 20 
+
+And lusty lads roam here and there 
+
+So merrily, 
+And ever among so merrily. 
+Fal. There's a merry heart! Good Master 
+
+
+: Silence, I ‘ll give you a health for that anon, 
+
+
+Shal. 
+Davy. 
+
+Davy. Sweet sir, sit; I Il be with you anon; 
+most sweet sir, sit. Master page, good master 
+page, sit. Proface! What you want in meat, 
+we'll have in drink: but you must bear; tbe 
+heart's all. [Exit 
+
+Shal. Be merry, Master Bardolph; cadi 
+my little soldier there, be merry. 
+
+Sil. Be merry, be merry, my wife has all; 
+
+[Singing. 
+For women are shrews, both short and tall: 
+"Tis merry in hall when beards wag all, 
+And welcome ae Shrove-tide. 
+
+Be merry, be merr 
+
+Fal. 1 did not thenk Master Silence hed 
+been a man of this mettle. 
+
+Sil. Who, I? I have been merry ees 
+and once ere now. 
+
+
+Give Master Bardolph some wine, 
+
+
+. Re-enter Davy. 
+
+
+Davy. There's a dish of leather-coats for 
+you. [To Bardolph. 
+Shal. Davy! 
+
+
+Davy. Your worship! I'll be with you 
+feaicht [to Bardolph]. A cup of wine, sir? 
+Sil. A cup of wine that's brisk and fine, 
+
+[ Singing. 
+And drink unto the leman mine; 
+And a merry heart lives long-a. 50 
+Fal,. Well said, Master Silence. 
+Sil. An we shall be merry, now comes in 
+the sweet o’ the night. 
+Fal. Health and long life to you, Master 
+Silence. 
+Sil. Fill the cup, and let it cone; [Singing. 
+I'll pledge you a mile to the bottom. 
+Shal. Honest Bardolph, welcome: if thou 
+
+
+wantest any thing, and wilt not call, beshrew 
+thy heart. Welcome, my little tiny thief {io 
+the Page], and welcome indeed too. J Il 
+drink to Master Bardolph, and to all the 
+cavaleros about London. 
+
+Davy. I hope to see London once ere | die. 
+
+Bard. An I might see you there, Davy,— 
+
+Shal. By the mass, you ‘Il crack a quart to- 
+gether, ha! will you not, Master Bardolph? 
+
+ard. Yea, sir, in a pottle-pot. 
+
+Shal. By God's liggens, I thank thee: the 
+knave will stick by thee, I can assure thee 
+that. A’ will not out; he is true bred. 7} 
+
+Bard, And I'll stick by him, sir. 
+
+Shal. Why, there spoke a king. Lack no- 
+thing: be merry. [Knocking within.]| Look 
+who's at the door there, ho! who knocks? 
+
+[Exit Davy, 
+
+Fal. Why, now you have done me right. 
+
+[To Silence, seeing him take off a bumper. 
+
+
+Sil. Do me right, (Singing. 
+And dub me knight: 
+Samingo. 
+Ist not so? & 
+
+
+Fal. ‘Tis so. 
+Sil. Is"t so? Why, then, say an old man 
+can do somewhat. 
+Re-enter Davy. 
+Davy. An'tplease your worship, there ‘s one 
+Pistol come from the court with news. 
+Fal. From the court! let him come in. 
+
+
+Enter Pistou. 
+How now, Pistol! 
+
+
+Pist. Sir John, God save you! 
+Fal. What wind blew you hither, Pistol? 
+Pist. Not the ill wind which blows no mar 
+to good. Sweet knight, thou art now one of 
+the greatest men in this realm. 
+Sil. By'r lady, I think a’ be, but goodman 
+Puff of Barson. 
+Pist. Puff! 
+Puff in thy teeth, most recreant coward base! 
+Sir John, I am thy Pistol and thy friend, 
+And helter-skelter have I rode to thee, 
+And tidings do | bring and lucky joys 9 
+And golden times and happy news of price. 
+Fal. I pray thee now, deliver them like a 
+man of this world. 
+Pist. A foutre for the world and worldlings 
+base! 
+I speak of Africa and golden joys. 
+Fal. O base Assyrian knight, what is thy 
+news? 
+Let King Cophetua know the truth thereof. 
+Sil. And Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John. 
+
+
+[Singing. 
+
+
+Pist. Shall dunghill curs confront the Heli- 
+
+
+cons > 
+
+
+538 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+2 ty SEES phe 
+A ye 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. V 
+
+
+————————————  — 
+
+
+And shall good news be baffled? 
+Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies’ lap. 110 
+
+Shal. Honest gentlemen, | know not your 
+beeeding. 
+
+‘Pist. Why then, lament therefore. 
+
+Shal, Give me pardon, sir: if, sir, you come 
+with news from the court, I take it there ’s but 
+two ways, either to utter them, or to conceal 
+them. I am, sir, under the king, in some au- 
+thority. 
+
+Pist. Under which king, Besonian? speak, 
+
+or die. 
+
+Shal, Under King Harry. 
+
+Pist. Harry the Fourth? or Fifth? 
+
+Shai. Harry the Fourth, 
+
+Pest. A foutre for thine office! 121 
+Sir John, thy tender lambkin now is king; 
+Harry the Fifth’s the man. I speak the truth: 
+When Pistol lies, do this; and fig me, like 
+The bragging Spaniard. 
+
+Fal. What, is the old king dead? 
+
+Pisi. As nail in door: the things I speak 
+
+are just. 
+
+Fal, Away, Bardolph! saddle my horse. 
+Master Robert Shallow, choose what office 
+thou wilt in the land, ‘tis thine. Pistol, I will 
+double-charge thee with dignities. 131 
+
+Bard. O joyful day! 
+
+I would not take a knighthood for my fortune. 
+
+Pist, What! I do bring good news. 
+
+Fal, Catry Master Silence to bed. Master 
+Shallow, my Lord Shallow,—be what thou 
+wilt; I am fortune’s steward—get on thy 
+boots: we'll ride all night. O sweet Pistol! 
+Away, Bardolph! [Exit Bard.] Come, Pis- 
+tol, utter more to me; and withal devise some- 
+thing to do thyself good. Boot, boot, Master 
+Shallow: I know the young king is sick for 
+me. Let us take any man’s horses; the laws 
+of England are at my commandment. Blessed 
+are they that have been my friends; and woe 
+to my lord chief-justice! 
+
+Pist. Let vultures vile seize on his lungs 
+
+also! 
+‘Where is the life that late I led>’ they say: 
+Why, here it is; welcome these pleasant days! 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. London. A street. 
+
+
+Enter Beadles, dragging in Hostess QUICKLY 
+; and Dott TEARSHEET. 
+
+Host. No, thou arrant knave; I would to 
+. God that I might die, that I might have thee 
+hanged: thou hast drawn my shoulder out of 
+joint. 
+
+First Bead. The constables have delivered 
+her over to me; and she shall have whipping- 
+cheer enough, I warrant her: there hath been a 
+man or two lately killed about her. 
+
+
+/ 
+
+Dol. Nut-hook, nut-hook, you lie. Come 
+on; I'll tell thee what, thou damned tripe- 
+visaged rascal, an the child I now go wath do 
+miscarry, thou wert better thou hadst struck 
+thy mother, thou paper-faced villain. 
+
+Host. O the Lord, that Sir John were 
+come! he would make this a bloody day te 
+somebody. But I pray God the fruit of her 
+womb miscarry! 
+
+First Bead. If it do, you shall have a dozen 
+of cushions again; you have but eleven now. 
+Come, I charge you both go with me; for the 
+man is dead that you and Pistol beat amongst 
+
+
+ou. 
+
+Dol. I'll tell you what, you thin man in a 
+censer, I will have you as soundly swinged for 
+this,—you blue-bottle rogue, you filthy fam- 
+ished correctioner. if you be not swinged, I ‘Il 
+forswear half-kirtles. 
+
+First Bead. Come, come, you she knight- 
+errant, come. 
+
+Host. O God, that right should thus over- 
+come might! Well, of sufferance comes ease, 
+
+Dol. Come, you rogue, come; bring me to a 
+justice. 
+
+Host. Ay, come, you starved blood-hound, 
+
+Dol. Goodman death, goodman bones! 
+
+Host. Thou atomy, thou! 
+
+Dol. Come, you thin thing; come, you 
+rascal, 
+
+
+First Bead. Very well. 
+
+
+Scene V. A public place near Westminster 
+bbey. 
+Enter two” Grooms, strewing rushes. 
+
+
+First Groom. More rushes, more rushes. 
+
+Sec. Groom. The trumpets have sounded 
+twice. 
+
+First Groom. “Twill be two o'clock ere 
+they come from the coronation: dispatch, dis- 
+patch. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Enter FatstaFF, SHALLOW, PIsTOL, 
+BarDo.PH, and Page. 
+
+
+Fal. Stand here by me, Master Robert 
+Shallow; I will make the king do you grace: 
+I will leer upon him as a’ comes by; and do 
+but mark the countenance that he will give me. 
+
+Pist. God bless thy lungs, good knight. 9 
+
+Fal. Come here, Pistol; stand behind me. 
+O, if I had time to have made new liveries, 
+I would have bestowed the thousand pound I 
+borrowed of you. But ‘tis no matter; this 
+
+
+poor show doth better: this doth infer the zeal 
+
+
+I had to see him. 
+Shal. It doth so. “at 
+Fal. It shows my earnestness of affection— 
+Shal. It doth so. , 
+Fal. My devotion,— 
+
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+= 
+
+
+SeSReE ie cloths st cloth, it. doth. 
+
+
+Fer Doll is in. 
+
+
+How ill white hairs become a fool and jester! 
+
+
+But, being awaked, I do despise my dream. 
+_ Make less thy body hence, and more thy grace; 
+
+
+_ For thee thrice wider than for other men. 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY iV 
+
+
+= 
+
+
+20 
+
+Fal. As it were, to ride day and night; and 
+not to deliberate, not to remember, not to have 
+patience to shift me,— 
+
+Shal. It is best, certain. 
+
+Fal. But to stand stained with travel, and 
+sweating with desire to see him; thinking of 
+nothing else, putting all affairs else in oblivion, 
+as if there were nothing else to be done but 
+to see him. 
+
+Pist. "Tis ‘semper idem,’ for ‘obsque -hoc 
+nihil est:" “tis all] in every part. 
+
+Shal. “Tis so, indeed. 
+
+
+Pist. My knight, I will inflame thy noble | 
+
+
+liver, 
+And make thee rage. 
+Thy Doll, and Helen of thy noble thoughts, 
+Is im base durance and contagious prison; 
+HHeled thither 
+By most mechanical and dirty hand: 
+Rouse up revenge from ebon den with fell 
+
+
+Alecto’s snake, 
+Pistol speaks nought but 
+truth. 
+Fal. I will deliver her. 
+[Shouts within, and the trumpets sound. 
+Pist. There roar’d the sea, and trumpet- 
+clangor sounds. 
+
+
+Enter the Kine and his train, the Lorp 
+Cuter-JusticE among them. 
+
+
+Fal. God save thy grace, King Hal! my 
+royal Hal! 
+ist. The heavens thee guard and keep, 
+most royal imp of fame! 
+Fal. God save thee, my sweet boy! 
+King. My lord chief-justice, speak to that 
+vain man. 
+_ Ch. Just. Have you your wits? know you 
+
+
+what ‘tis you s > 
+Fal. My king! my Jove! I speak to thee, 
+my heart! 5 
+King. I know thee not, old man: fall to 
+thy prayers; 
+
+
+I have long dream’d of such a kind of man, 
+So surfeit-swell’d, so old and so profane; 
+
+
+Leave gormandizing; know the grave doth gape 
+
+
+Reply not to me with a fool-born jest: 
+
+Presume not that I am the thing I was; 60 
+
+For God doth know, so shall the world per- 
+ceive, 
+
+That I have turn’d away my former self; 
+
+‘So will I those that kept me company. 
+
+When thou dost hear I am as I have been, 
+
+
+r _ Approach me, and thou shalt be as thou wast, 
+
+
+Oo 
+
+
+5X 
+The tutor and the feeder of my riots: 
+
+Till then, I banish thee, on pain of death, 
+As I have done the rest of my misleaders, 
+Not to come near our person by ten mile. 
+For competence of life I will allow you, 70 
+That lack of means enforce you not to evil: 
+And, as we hear you do reform yourselves, 
+
+
+We will, according to your strengths and 
+qualities, 
+
+Give you advancement. Be it your charge, 
+my lord, 
+
+
+To see perform’d the tenour of our word. 
+Set on. [Exeunt King, &c. 
+Fal. Master Shallow, I owe you a thou- 
+sand pound. 
+Shal. Yea, marry, Sir John; which I be- 
+seech you to let me have home with me. 80 
+Fal. That can hardly be, Master Shallow. 
+Do not you grieve at this; I shall be sent for 
+in private to him: look you, he must seem thus 
+to the world: fear not your advancements; I 
+will be the man yet that shall make you great, 
+Shal. I cannot well perceive how, unless 
+you should give me your doublet and stuff me 
+out with straw. I beseech you, good Sir John, 
+let me have five hundred of my thousand. 
+Fal. Sir, I will be as good as my si 
+this that you heard was but a colour: 
+Shal. A colour that I fear you will die m, 
+Sir John. 
+Fal. Fear no colours: go with me to din- 
+ner: come, Lieutenant Pistol; come, Bar- 
+dolph: I shall be sent for soon at night. 
+
+
+Re-enier Prince Joun, the Lorp CHIEF- 
+Justice; Officers with them. 
+
+
+. Go, carry Sir John Falstaff te 
+
+
+Take all his company along with him. 
+Fal. My lord, my lord,— 
+Ch. Just. I cannot now speak: I will hear 
+you soon. 1 
+Take them away. 
+
+
+Pist. Si fortuna me tormenta, spero con- 
+
+tenta. [Exeunt all but Prince John and 
+
+the Chief-Justice. 
+
+Lan. I like this fair proceeding of the 
+king’s: 
+
+
+He hath intent his wonted followers 
+Shall all be very well provided for; 
+But all are banish’d till their conversations 
+Appear more wise and modest to the world. 
+Ch. Just. And so they are. 
+Lan. The king hath call’d his parlixment, 
+
+
+my lord. 
+Ch. Just. He hath. 110 
+Lan. I will lay odds that, ere this year 
+expire, 
+
+
+We bear our civil swords and native fire 
+
+
+540 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV 
+
+
+[Acr V, Sc. V 
+
+
+As far as France: | heard a bird so sing, 
+Whose music, to my thinking, pleased the king. 
+Come, will you hence? [Exeunt. 
+
+
+EPILOGUE. 
+Spoken by a Dancer. 
+
+
+First my fear; then my courtesy; last my 
+speech. My fear is, your displeasure; my 
+courtesy, my duty; and my speech, to beg your 
+pardons. If you look for a good speech now, 
+you undo me: for what I have to say is of 
+mine own making; and what indeed | should 
+- say will, I doubt, prove mine own marring. 
+But to the purpose, and so to the venture. Be 
+it known to you, as it is very well, I was lately 
+here in the end of a displeasing play, to pray 
+your patience for it and to promise you a bet- 
+ter. I meant indeed to pay you with this; 
+which, if like an ill venture it come unluckily 
+home, I break, and you, my gentle creditors, 
+lose. Here I promised you I would be and 
+here I commit my body to your mercies: bate 
+
+
+me some and | will pay you and, as most 
+debtors do, promise you infinitely. 
+
+If my tongue cannot entreat you to acquit 
+me,.will you command me to use my legs? and 
+yet that were but light payment, to dance out 
+of your debt. But a good conscience will 
+make any possible satisfaction, and so would 
+I. All the gentlewomen here have forgiven 
+me: if the gentlemen will aot, then the gen- 
+tlemen do not agree with the gentlewomen, 
+which was never seen before in such an as- 
+sembly. 
+
+One more word, I beseech yeu. If you be 
+not too much cloyed with fat meat, our 
+humble author will continue the story, with 
+Sir John in it, and make you merry with fair 
+Katharine of France: where, for any thing I 
+know, Falstaff shall die of a sweat, unless al- 
+ready a’ be killed with your hard opinions; 
+for Oldcastle died a martyr, and this is not 
+the man. My tongue is weary; when my legs 
+are too, I will bid you good night: and so 
+kneel down before you; but, indeed, to pray 
+for the queen. 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+THE LIFE OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSON£E. 
+
+
+Kine Henry the Fifth. Cuar_es the Sixth, King of France. 
+
+DuKe oF GLOUCESTER, t brothers to the | Lewis, the Dauphin. 
+
+Duxe or BeEpForp, King. Dukes or BurcuNnpby, ORLEANS, and Bour- 
+
+Duke or EXETER, uncle to the King. BON. 
+
+DvuKE oF YoRK, cousin to the King. The Constable of France. 
+
+EarLts OF SALISBURY, WESTMORELAND, and | RamBurEs and Granppreé, French Lords. 
+Warwick. : Governor of Harfleur. 
+
+ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY, MonrTyoy, a French Herald. 
+
+BisHop oF ELy. Ambassadors to the King of England. 
+
+Ear_ OF CAMBRIDGE. IsABEL, Queen of France. 
+
+Lorp Scroop. KaTHARINE, daughter to Charles and Isabel. 
+
+Sir THomas Grey. ALIcE, a lady attending on her. 
+
+Sir Tuomas ErpincHam, Gower, FLUuEL- | Hostess of a tavern in Eastcheap, formerly 
+LEN, Macmorris, JAMY, officers in King Mistress Quickly, and now married to 
+Henry's army. Pistol. 
+
+Bates, Court, Wituiams, soldiers in the|Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Citizens, 
+same. Messengers, and Attendants. 
+
+Pisto., NyM, BaRDOLPH. Chorus. 
+
+Boy. 
+
+A Herald. Scene: England; afterwards France. 
+
+
+PROLOGUE. 
+Enter Chorus. 
+Chor. O for a Muse of fire, that would 
+
+
+ascend 
+
+
+The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder: 
+Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts; 
+Into a thousand parts divide one man, 
+
+And make imag'nary puissance; 
+
+Think, when we talk of horses, that you see 
+
+
+The brightest heaven of invention, them 
+A kingdom for a stage, princes to act Printing their proud hoofs i’ the receiving 
+And monarchs to behold the swelling scene! earth; 
+Then should the warlike Harry, like himself, |For ‘tis your thoughts that now must deck our 
+Assume the port of Mars; and at his heels, kings, 
+
+
+Leash’d in like hounds, shouid famine, sword | Carry them here and there; jumping o’er times, 
+
+
+and fire Turning the accomplishment of many years 
+Crouch for employment. But pardon, gentles | Into an hour-glass: for the which supply, 
+all, Admit me Chorus to this history; 
+
+
+The flat unraised spirits that have dared’ Who prologue-like your. humble patience 
+
+
+On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth 10 pray, 
+
+So great an object: can this cockpit hold Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play. 
+
+The vasty fields of France? or may we cram [Exit. 
+Within this wooden O the very casques ACT I F 
+
+
+That did affright the air at Agincourt? 
+O, pardon! since a crooked figure may 
+Attest in little place a million; 
+
+And let us, ciphers to this great accompt, 
+On your imaginary forces work. 
+
+Suppose within the girdle of these walls 
+Axe now confined two mighty monarchies, 20| Cant. My lord, I'll tell you: that self bill 
+Whose high upreared and abutting fronts is urged, 
+
+
+544 
+
+
+Scene I. London. An ante-chamber in the 
+Kine’s palace. 
+
+
+oa ee Se ee ee ee 
+
+
+Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY, and 
+the BisHop oF Exy. 
+
+
+542 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+—— 
+
+
+Which in the eleventh year of the last king’s 
+reign 
+Was like, and had indeed against us pass'd, 
+But that the scamblng and unquiet time 
+Did push it out of farther question. 
+Ely. But how, my lord, shall we resist it 
+now > 
+Cant. It must be thought on. 
+against us, 
+We lose the better half of our possession: 
+For all the temporal lands which men devout 
+By testament have given to the church 10 
+Would they strip from us; being valued thus: 
+As much as would maintain, to the king's 
+honour, 
+Full fifteen earls and fifteen hundred knights, 
+Six thousand and two hundred good esquires; 
+And, to relief of lazars and weak age, 
+Of indigent faint souls past corporal toil, 
+& hundred almshouses right well supplied; 
+And to the coffers of the king beside, 
+A thousand pounds of the year: thus runs 
+the bill. 
+Ely. This would drink deep. 
+Cant. “Twould drink the cup and all. 20 
+Ely. But what prevention? 
+Cant. The king is full of grace and fair 
+regard. 
+Ely. And a true lover of the holy church. 
+Cant. The courses of his youth promised 
+it not. 
+The breath no sooner left his father’s body, 
+But that his wildness, mortified in him, 
+Seem'd to die too; yea, at that very moment 
+Consideration, like an angel, came 
+And whipp’d the offending Adam out of him, 
+Leaving his body as a paradise, 30 
+To envelope and contain celestial spirits. 
+Never was such a sudden scholar made; 
+Never came reformation in a flood, 
+With such a heady currance, scouring faults; 
+Nor never Hydra-headed wilfulness 
+Se soon did lose his seat and all at once 
+As in this king. 
+Ely. We are blessed in the change. 
+Cant. Hear him but reason in divinity, 
+And all-admiring with an inward wish 
+You would desire the king were made a 
+prelate: 
+Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs, 4] 
+You would say it hath been all in all his study: 
+List his discourse of war, and you shall hear 
+A fearful battle render’d you in music: 
+Turn him to any cause of policy, 
+The Gordian knot of it he will unloose, 
+Familiar as his garter: that, when he speaks, 
+The air, a charter'd I bertine, is still, 
+And the mute wonder lurketh in men’s ears, 
+
+
+If it pass 
+
+
+So that the art and practic part of life 
+
+Must be the mistress to this theoric: 
+
+Which is a wonder how his grace should 
+glean it, 
+
+Since his addiction was to courses vain, 
+
+His companies unletter'd, rude and shallow, 
+
+His hours fill’d up with riots, banquets, sports, 
+
+And never noted in him any study, 
+
+Any retirement, any sequestration 
+
+From open haunts and popularity. 
+
+Ely. The strawberry grows underneath the 
+
+nettle 
+
+And wholesome berries thrive and r'pen best 
+
+Neighbour'd by fruit of baser quality: 
+
+And so the prince obscured his contempla- 
+tion 
+
+Under the veil of wIdness; which, no doubt, 
+
+Grew like the summer grass, fastest by night, 
+
+Unseen, yet crescive in his faculty. 
+
+Cant. It must be so; for miracles are 
+
+ceased; 
+
+And therefore we must needs admit the means 
+
+How things are perfected. 
+
+Ely. Bui, my good lord, 
+How now for mitigation of this bill 70 
+Urged by the commons? Doth his majesty 
+Incline to it, or not? 
+
+Cant. He seems indifferent, 
+Or rather swaying more upon our part 
+Than cherishing the exhibiters against us; 
+For I have made an offer to his majesty, 
+Upon our spiritual convocation 
+And in regard of causes now in hand, 
+Which I have open'd to his grace at large, 
+As touching France, to g ve a greater sum 
+Than ever at one time the clergy yet 80 
+Did to his predecessors part withal. 
+
+Ely. How did this offer seem received, my 
+
+lord > 
+
+Cant. With good acceptance of his maj- 
+
+esty ; 
+Save that there was not time enough to hear, 
+As I perceived his grace would fain have done, 
+The severals and unhidden passages 
+Of his true titles to some certain dukedoms 
+And generally to the crown and seat of France 
+Derived from Edward, his grea*grandfather. 
+
+
+Ely. What was the impediment that broke 
+this off? 90 
+Cant, The French ambassador upon that 
+instant 
+Craved audience; and the hour, I think, is 
+come 
+To give him hearing: is it four o'clock? 
+Ely. It is. 
+Cant. Then go we in, to know his em- 
+bassy; 
+
+
+Which I could w'th a ready guess declare, 
+
+
+To steal his sweet and honey'd sentences; 50) Before the Frenchman speak a word of it, 
+
+
+> te Seen 
+[AcuiIjbentae 
+
+
+: 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+545 
+
+
+_Ely. I'll wait upon you, and I long to 
+hear it. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene Ul. The same. The Presence 
+
+
+chamber. 
+
+
+Enter Kinc Henry, GLoucester, BEDFoRD, 
+Exeter, Warwick, WESTMORELAND, and 
+Attendants. 
+
+
+K. Hen. Where is my gracious Lord of 
+Canterbury > 
+Exe. Not here in presence. 
+K. Hen. Send for him, good uncle. 
+West. Shall we call in the ambassador, my 
+liege? 
+K. Hen. Not yet, my cousin: we would 
+be resolved, 
+Before we hear him, of some things of weight 
+That task our thoughts, concerning us and 
+France. 
+
+
+Enter the AncHBIsHoP of CANTERBURY, and 
+the BisHop or EL y. 
+
+
+Cant. God and his angels guard your 
+sacred throne 
+And make you long become it! 
+
+K. Hen. Sure, we thank you. 
+My learned lord, we pray you to proceed 
+And justly and religiously unfold 10 
+Why the law Salique that they have in France 
+Or should, or should not, bar us in our claim: 
+And God forbid, my dear and faithful lord, 
+That you should fashion, wrest, or bow your 
+
+reading, 
+Or nicely charge your understanding soul 
+With opening titles miscreate, whose right 
+Suits not in native colours with the truth; 
+For God doth know how many now in health 
+Shall drop their blood in approbation 
+Of what your reverence shall incite us to. 20 
+Therefore take heed how you impawn our 
+person, 
+How you awake our sleeping sword of war: 
+
+
+We charge you, in the name of God, take 
+
+
+heed; 
+For never two such kingdoms did contend 
+Without much fall of blood; whose guiltless 
+drops 
+Are every one a woe, a sore compla‘nt 
+‘Gainst him whose wrongs give edge unto the 
+swords 
+That make such waste in brief mortality. 
+Under this conjuration speak, my lord; 
+For we will hear, note and believe in heart 30 
+That’ what you speak is in your conscience 
++» wash'd 
+As pure as sin with baptism. 
+Cant. Then hear me, gracious sovereign, 
+and you peers, 
+That owe yourselves, your lives and services 
+
+
+To this imperial throne. There is no bar 
+To make against your highness’ claim to France 
+But this, which they produce from Phara- 
+mond, 
+‘In terram Salicam mulieres ne succedant:’ 
+‘No woman shall succeed m Salique land:" 
+Which Salique land the French unjustly glose 
+To be the realm of France, and Pharamond 
+The founder of this law and female bar. 
+Yet ther own authors faithfully afirm 
+That the land Salique is in Germany, 
+Between the floods of Sala and of Elbe; 
+Where Charles the Great, having subdued the 
+Saxons, 
+There left behind and settled certain French; 
+Who, holding in disdain the German women 
+For some dishonest manners of their life, 
+Establish’d then this law: to wit, no female 
+Should be inheritrix in Salique land: 
+Which Salique, as I said, ‘twixt Elbe and 
+Sala, 
+Is at this day in Germany call’d Meisen. 
+Then doth it well appear the Salique law 
+Was not devised for the realm of France; 
+Nor did the French possess the Salique land 
+Until four hundred one and twenty years 
+After defunction of King Pharamond, 
+Idly supposed the founder of this law; 
+Who died within the year of our redemption 
+Four hundred twenty-six; and Charles the 
+Great 
+Subdued the Saxons, and did seat the French 
+Beyond the river Sala, in the year 
+Eight hundred five. Besides, their writers say, 
+King Pepin, which deposed Childeric, 
+Did, as heir general, being descended 
+Of Blithild, which was daughter to King 
+Clothair, 
+Make claim and ttle to the crown of France. 
+Hugh Capet also, who usurp’d the crown 69 
+Of Charles the duke of Lorraine, sole heir 
+male 
+Of the true line and stock of Charles the 
+Great, 
+To find his title with some shows of truth, 
+Though, in pure truth, it was corrupt and 
+naught, 
+Convey’d himself as heir to the Lady Lingare, 
+Daughter to Charlemain, who was the son 
+To Lewis the emperor, and Lewis the son 
+Of Charles the Great. Also King Lewis the 
+Tenth, 
+Who was sole heir to the usurper Capet, 
+Could not keep quiet in his conscience, 
+Wearing the crown of France, till satished 80 
+That fair Queen Isabel, his grandmother, 
+Was lineal of the Lady Ermengare, 
+Daughter to Charles the foresaid duke of 
+
+
+Lorraine: 
+
+
+544 KING HENRY V 
+
+
+By the which marriage the line of Charles 
+the Great 
+Was re-united to the crown of France. 
+So that, as clear as is the summer's sun, 
+King Pepin’s title and Hugh Capet'’s claim, 
+King Lewis his satisfaction, all appear 
+To hold in right and title of the female: 
+So do the kings of France unto this day; 90 
+Howbeit they would hold up this Salique law 
+To bar your highness claiming from the female, 
+And rather choose to hide them in a net 
+Than amply to imbar their crooked titles 
+Usurp’d from you and your progenitors. 
+K. Hen. May | with right and conscience 
+make this claim? 
+Cant. The sin upon my head, dread sov- 
+ereign! 
+For in the book of Numbers is it writ, 
+When the man dies, let the inheritance 99 
+Descend unto the daughter. Gracious lord, 
+Stand for you own; unwind your bloody flag; 
+Look back into your mighty ancestors: 
+Go, my dread lord, to your great-grandsire’s 
+
+
+tomb, 
+
+From whom you claim; invoke his warlike 
+spirit, 
+
+And your great-uncle’s, Edward the Black 
+Prince, 
+
+
+Who on the French ground play'd a tragedy, 
+Making defeat on the full power of France, 
+Whiles his most mighty father on a hill 
+Stood smiling to behold his lion’s whelp 
+Forage in blood of French nobility. 110 
+O noble English, that could entertain 
+With half their forces the full pride of France 
+And let another half stand laughing by, 
+All out of work and cold for action! 
+Ely. Awake remembrance of these valiant 
+dead 
+And with your puissant arm renew their feats: 
+You are their heir; you sit upon their throne; 
+The blood and courage that renowned them 
+Runs in your veins; and my thrice-puissant 
+liege 
+Is in the very May-morn of his youth, 120 
+Ripe for exploits and mighty enterprises. 
+Exe. Your brother kings and monarchs of 
+the earth 
+Do all expect that you should rouse yourself, 
+As did the former lions of your blood. 
+West. They know your grace hath cause 
+and means and might; 
+So hath your highness; never king of England 
+Had nobles richer and more loyal subjects, 
+Whose hearts have left their bodies here in 
+England 
+And lie pavilion’d in the fields of France. 
+Cani. O, let their bodies follow, my dear 
+liege, 130 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. H 
+
+
+With blood and sword and fire to win your 
+right; 
+In aid whereof we of the spirituality 
+Will raise your highness such a mighty sum 
+As never did the clergy at one time 
+Bring in to any of your ancestors. 
+K. Hen. We must not only arm to invade 
+the French, 
+But lay down our proportions to defend 
+Against the Scot, who will make road upon us 
+With all advantages. 
+Cant. They of those marches, gracious 
+sovereign, 140 
+Shall be a wall sufficient to defend 
+Our inland from the pilfering borderers. 
+K. Hen. We do not mean the coursing 
+snatchers only, 
+But fear the main intendment of the Scot, 
+Who hath been still a giddy neighbour to us; 
+For you shall read that my great-grandfather 
+Never went with his forces into France 
+But that the Scot on his unfurnish’d kingdom 
+Came pouring, like the tide into a breach, 
+With ample and brim fulness of his force, 150 
+Gall'ng the gleaned land with hot assays, 
+Girding with grievous siege castles and towns; 
+That England, being empty of defence, 
+eee and trembled at the ill neighbour- 
+ood, 
+Cant. She hath been then more fear’d than 
+harm'd, my liege; 
+For hear her but exampled by herself: 
+When all her chivalry hath been in France 
+And she a mournihg widow of her nobles, 
+She hath herself not only well defended 
+But taken and impounded as a stray 160 
+The King of Scots; whom she did send to 
+France, 
+To fill King Edward's fame with prisoner 
+kings 
+And make her chronicle as rich with praise 
+As is the ooze and bottom of the sea 
+With sunken wreck and sumless treasuries. 
+
+
+West. But there's a saying very old and 
+
+
+true, 
+‘If that you will France win, 
+Then with Scotland first begin:” 
+For once the eagle England being in prey, 
+To her unguarded nest the weasel Scot 170 
+Comes sneaking and so sucks her princely 
+eggs, 
+Playing the mouse in absence of the cat, 
+To tear and havoc more than she can eat. 
+Exe. It follows then the cat must stay at 
+home: 
+Yet that is but a crush’d necessity, 
+Since we have locks to safeguard necessaries, 
+And pretty traps to catch the petty thieves. 
+While that the armed hand doth fight abroad, 
+
+
+Act I, Sc. I] 
+
+
+The advised head defends: itself at home; 
+
+For government, though high and low and 
+lower, 180 
+
+Put into parts, doth keep in one consent, 
+
+Congreeing in a full and natural close, 
+
+Like music. 
+
+Cant. Therefore doth heaven divide 
+The state of man in divers functions, 
+Setting endeavour in continual motion; 
+
+To which is fixed, as an am or butt, 
+Obedience: for so work the honey-bees, ° 
+Creatures that by a rule in nature teach 
+The act of order to a peopled kingdom. 
+They have a king and officers of sorts; 190 
+Where some, like magistrates, correct at home, 
+Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad, 
+Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, 
+Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds, 
+Which pillage they with merry march bring 
+home 
+To the tent-royal of their emperor; 
+Who, busied in his majesty, surveys 
+The singing masons building roofs of gold, 
+The civil citizens kneading up the honey, 
+The poor mechanic porters crowding in _ 200 
+Their heavy burdens at hs narrow gate, 
+The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum, 
+Delivering o'er to executors pale 
+The lazy yawning drone. | this infer, 
+That many things, having full reference 
+To one consent, may work contrariously: 
+As many arrows, loosed several ways, 
+Come to one mark; as many ways meet in 
+one town; 
+As many fresh streams meet in one salt sea; 
+As many lines close in the dial’s centre; 210 
+So may a thousand actions, once afoot, 
+End in one purpose, and be all well borne 
+Without defeat. Therefore to France, my 
+liege. 
+Divide your happy England into four; 
+Whereof take you one quarter into France, 
+And you withal shall make all Gallia shake. 
+If we, with thrice such powers left at home, 
+Cannot defend our own doors from the dog, 
+Let us be worried and our nation lose 
+The name of hardiness and policy. 220 
+K. Hen. Call in the messengers sent from 
+the Dauphin. [Exeunt some Attendants. 
+Now are we well resolved; and, by God's help, 
+And yours, the noble sinews of our power, 
+France being ours, we "Il bend it to our awe, 
+Or break it all to pieces: or there we "ll sit, 
+Ruling in’ large and ample empery 
+O’er France and all her almost kingly duke- 
+doms, 
+Or lay these bones in an unworthy urn, 
+Tombless, with no remembrance over them: 
+
+
+Either our history shall with full mouth 230 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+545 
+
+
+Speak freely of our acts, or else our grave, 
+
+Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless 
+mouth, 
+
+Not worshipp’d with a waxen epitaph. 
+
+
+Enter Ambassadors of France. 
+
+
+Now are we well prepared to know the pleasure 
+Of our fair cousin Dauphin; for we hear 
+Your greeting is from him, not from the king. 
+First Amb. May ‘t please your majesty to 
+give us leave 
+Freely to render what we have in charge; 
+Or shall we sparingly show you far off 
+The Dauphin’s meaning and our embassy ? 
+K. Hen. We are no tyrant, but a Chris- 
+tian king; 
+Unto whose grace our passion is as subject 
+As are our wretches fetter’d in our prisons: 
+Therefore with frank and with uncurbed 
+plainness 
+First Amb. Thus, then, in few. 
+Your highness, lately sending into France, 
+Did claim some certain dukedoms, in the right 
+Of your great predecessor, King Edward the 
+Third. 
+In answer of which claim, the prince our 
+master 
+Says that you savour too much of your youth, 
+And bids you be advised there's nought in 
+France 251 
+That can be with a nimble galliard won; 
+You cannot revel into dukedoms there. 
+He therefore sends you, meeter for your spirit, 
+This tun of treasure; and, in lieu of this, 
+Desires you let the dukedoms that you claim 
+Hear no more of you. This the Dauphin 
+speaks. ? fc 
+K. Hen. What treasure, uncle? 
+Exe. Tennis-balls, my liege. 
+K. Hen. We are glad the Dauphin is so 
+pleasant with us; 
+His present and your pains we thank you for: 
+When we have match’d our rackets to these 
+balls, 261 
+We will, in France, by God's grace, play a set 
+Shall strike his father’s crown into the hazard. 
+Tell him he hath made a match with such a 
+wrangler 
+That all the courts of France will be disturb’d 
+With chaces. And we understand him well, 
+How he comes o’er us with our wilder days, 
+Not measuring what use we made of them. 
+We never valued this poor seat of England; 
+And therefore, living hence, did give ourself 
+To barbarous license; as 'tisever common 271 
+That men are merriest when they are from 
+home. 
+But tell the Dauphin I will keep my state, 
+Be like a king and show my sail of greatness 
+
+
+546 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+When I do rouse me in my throne of France: 
+For that I have laid by my majesty 
+
+And plodded like a man for working-days, 
+But I will rise there with so full a glory 
+That I will dazzle all the eyes of France, 279 
+Yea, strike the Dauphin blind to look on us. 
+And tell the pleasant prince this mock of his 
+Hath turn’d his balls to gun-stones;. and his 
+
+
+soul 
+
+Shall stand sore charged for the wasteful 
+vengeance 
+
+That shall fly with them: for many a thousand 
+widows 
+
+
+Shall this his mock mock out of their dear 
+husbands; 
+Mock mothers from their sons, mock castles 
+down; 
+And some are yet ungotten and unborn 
+That shall have cause to curse the Dauphin’s 
+scorn. 
+But this lies all within the will of God, 
+To whom I do appeal; and in whose name 290 
+Tell you the Dauphin I am coming on, 
+To venge me as | may and to put forth 
+My rightful hand in a well-hallow’d cause. 
+So get you hence in peace; and tell the 
+Dauphin 
+His jest will savour but of shallow wit, 
+When thousands weep more than did laugh 
+at it. 
+Convey them with safe conduct. Fare you 
+well. [Exeunt Ambassadors. 
+Exe. This was a merry message. 
+K. Hen. We hope to make the sender 
+blush at it. 
+Therefore; my lords, omit no happy hour 300 
+That may give furtherance to our expedition; 
+For we have now no thought in us but France, 
+Save those to God, that run before our business. 
+Therefore let our proportions for these wars 
+Be soon collected and all things thought upon 
+That may with reasonable sw ftness add 
+More feathers to our wings; for, God before, 
+We'll chide this Dauphin at his father's door. 
+Therefore let every man now task his thought, 
+That this fair action may on foot be brought. 
+[Exeunt. Flourish. 
+
+
+ACT II. 
+
+
+PROLOGUE. 
+Flourish. Enter Chorus. 
+Chor. Now all the youth of England are 
+on fire, 
+And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies: 
+Now thrive the armourers, and honour’s 
+
+
+thought 
+Reigns solely in the breast of every man: 
+
+
+They sell the pasture now to buy the horse, 
+
+Following the mirror of all Christian kings, 
+
+With winged heels, as English Mercuries. 
+
+For now sits Expectation im the air, | 
+
+And hides a sword from hilts unto the point 
+
+With crowns imperial, crowns and coronets, 
+
+Promised to Harry and his followers. 
+
+The French, advised by good intelligence 
+
+Of this most dreadful preparation, 
+
+Shake in their fear and with pale policy 
+
+Seek to divert the English purposes. 
+
+O England! model to thy inward greatness, 
+
+Like little body with a m ghty heart, 
+
+What mightst thou do, that honour would 
+thee do, 
+
+Were all thy children kind and natural! 
+
+But see thy fault! France hath in thee found 
+out 20 
+
+A nest of hollow bosoms, which he fills 
+
+With treacherous crowns; and three corrupted 
+men, 
+
+One, Richard Earl of Cambridge, and the 
+second, 
+
+Henry Lord Scroop of Masham, and the 
+third, 
+
+Sir Thomas Grey, knight, of Northumberland, 
+
+Have, for the gilt of France—O guilt ‘in- 
+deed !— 
+
+Confirm'd conspiracy with fearful France; 
+
+And by their hands this grace of kings must 
+die, 
+
+If hell and treason hold their promises, 
+
+Ere he take ship for France, and in South- 
+ampton. 30 
+
+Linger your patiente on; + and we'll digest 
+
+The abuse of distance; force a play: 
+
+The sum is paid; the traitors are agreed; 
+
+The king is set from London; and the scene 
+
+Is now transported, gentles, to Southampton; 
+
+There is the playhouse now, there must you 
+sit: 
+
+And thence to France shall we convey you safe, 
+
+And bring you back, charming the narrow seas 
+
+To give you gentle pass; for, if we may, 
+
+We'll not offend one stomach with our play. 
+
+But, till the king come forth, and not till then, 
+
+Unto Southampton do we shift our scene. 
+
+
+[Exit, 
+Scene I. London. A street. 
+Enter Corporal Nym and Lieutenant 
+BarbDoLpH. 
+
+
+Bard. Well met, Corporal Nym. 
+
+Nym. Good morrow, Lieutenant Bardolph. 
+
+Bard. What, are Ancient Pistol and you 
+friends yet? 
+
+Nym. For my part, } care not: I say lit- 
+tle; but when time shall serve, there shall be 
+smiles; but that shall be as it may. I dare 
+
+
+Seeing 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+‘Act Il, Sc. I] 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+54] 
+
+
+ree eee 
+
+
+- not fight; but I will wink and hold out mine 
+
+
+iron: it is a simple one; but what though? it 
+will toast cheese, and it will endure cold as 
+
+
+another man’s sword will: and there's an end. 
+
+
+Bard. 1 will bestow a breakfast to make 
+you friends; and we tl be all three sworn 
+brothers to France: let it be so, good Corporal 
+Nym. 
+
+Nym. Faith, I will live so long as I may, 
+that’s the certain of it; and when I cannot 
+live any longer, I will do as I may: that is 
+my rest, that is the rendezvous of it. 
+
+Bard. It is certain, corporal, that he is 
+married to Nell Quickly: and certainly she 
+did you wrong; for you were troth-plight 
+to her. 21 
+
+Nym. I cannot tell: things must be as they 
+may: men may sleep, and they may have 
+their throats about them at that time; and 
+some say knives have edges. It must be as 
+
+
+it may: though patience be a tired mare, yet, 
+
+
+- she will plod. There must be conclusions. 
+
+
+Well, I cannot tell. 
+Enter Pistot and Hostess. 
+
+
+Bard. Here comes Ancient Pistol and his 
+wife: good corporal, be patient here. How 
+now, mine host Pistol! 30 
+
+Pist. Base tike, call’st thou me host? 
+Now, by this hand, I swear, I scorn the term; 
+Nor shall my Nell keep lodgers. 
+
+Host. No, by my troth, not long; for we 
+cannot lodge and board a dozen or fourteen 
+gentlewomen that live honestly by the prick of 
+their needles, but it will be thought we keep 
+a bawdy house straight. [Nym and Pistol 
+draw.] O well a day, Lady, if he be not 
+drawn now! we shall see wilful adultery and 
+murder committed. 
+
+Bard. Good lieutenant! good corporal! of- 
+fer nothing here. 
+
+Nym. Pish! 
+
+Pist. Pish for thee, Iceland dog! 
+
+prick-ear’d cur of Iceland! 
+
+Host. Good Corporal Nym, show thy val- 
+
+
+thou 
+
+
+our, and put up your sword. 
+
+
+— Nym. Will you shog off? I would have 
+
+you solus. ; 
+Pist. ‘Solus,’ egregious dog? O viper vile! 
+
+‘The ‘solus’ in thy most merva lous face; 50 
+
+‘The ‘solus’ in thy teeth, and in thy throat, 
+
+And in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy maw, 
+
+perdy, 
+
+And, which is worse, within thy nasty mouth! 
+
+[ do retort the ‘solus’ in thy bowels; 
+
+For I can take, and Pistol’s cock is up, 
+
+And flashing fire will follow. 
+
+Nym. 1 am not Barbason; you cannot 
+
+soniure me. I have an humour to knock you 
+
+
+0.| pudding one of these days. 
+
+
+indifferently well. If you grow foul with me, 
+Pistol, I will scour you with my rapier, as I 
+may, in fair terms: if you would walk off, I 
+would prick your guts a little, in good terms, 
+as I may: and that’s the humour of it. 
+
+Pist. O braggart vile and damned furious 
+
+wight! 
+The grave doth gape, and doting death is near; 
+Therefore exhale. 
+
+Bard. Hear me, hear me what I say:i:he 
+that strikes the first stroke, I'll run him, up to 
+the h'lts, as I am a soldier. [Drans. 
+
+Pist. An oath of mickle might; and fury 
+
+shall abate. 70 
+Give me thy fist, thy fore-foot to me give: 
+Thy spirits are most tall. 
+
+Num. I will cut thy throat, one time or 
+other, in fair terms: that is the humour of 3t. 
+
+Pist. ‘Couple a gorge!’ 
+That is the word. I thee defy again. Hu 
+© hound of Crete, think’st thou my spouse 
+
+to get? 
+
+No; to the spital go, 
+
+And from the powdering-tub of infamy 
+Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid’s kind, 
+Doll Tearsheet she by name, and her espouse: 
+I have, and I will hold, the quondam Quickly 
+— the only she; and—pauca, there ’s enough. 
+
+0 to. , 
+
+
+Enter the Boy. 
+
+
+Boy. Mine host Pistol, you must come to 
+my master, and you, hostess: he is very sick, 
+and would to bed. Good Bardolph, put thy 
+face between his sheets, and do the office of 
+a warming-pan. Faith, he’s very ill. 
+
+Bard. Away, you rogue! G 
+
+Host. By my troth, he'll yield the crow a 
+The king has 
+killed his heart. Good husband, come home 
+presently. [Exeunt Hostess and Bov. 
+
+Bard. Come, shall 1 make you two friends? 
+We must: to France together: ‘why the devel 
+should we keep knives to cut one another's 
+throats > 2 
+
+Pist. Let floods o’erswell, and fiends for 
+
+food howl on! 
+
+Nym. You'll pay me the eight shillings 1 
+won of you at betting? 
+
+Pist. Base is the slave that pays. #06 
+
+Nym. That now I will have: that's the 
+humour of it. F 
+
+Pist. As manhood shall compound: push 
+
+home. [They draw. 
+
+Bard. By this sword, he that makes the 
+first thrust, 1 ‘ll k‘ll him; by this sword, | will. 
+
+Pist. Sword is an oath, and oaths must 
+
+have their course. : 
+
+Bard. Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be 
+
+
+548 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+[Act II, Sc. II 
+
+
+friends, be friends: an thou wilt not, why, 
+then, be enemies with me too. Prithee, put up. 
+Nym. 1 shall have my eight shillings I 
+won of you at betting? 11 
+Pist. A noble shalt thou have, and present 
+
+
+pays 
+Aad liquor likewise will I give to thee, 
+And friendship shall combine, and brother- 
+hood: 
+ill live by Nym, and Nym shall live by me; 
+Is not this just? for I shall sutler be 
+Unto the camp, and profits will accrue. 
+Give me thy hand. 
+Nym. I shall have my noble? 
+Pist. In-cash most justly paid. 120 
+Nym. Well, then, that’s the humour of ’t. 
+
+
+Re-enter Hostess. 
+
+
+Host. As ever you came of women, come 
+in quickly to Sir John. Ah, poor heart! he is 
+so shaked of a burning quotidian tertian, that 
+it is most lamentable to behold. Sweet men, 
+come to him. 
+
+Nym. The king hath run bad humours on 
+the knight; that’s the even of it. 
+
+Pist. Nym, thou hast spoke the right; 
+His heart is fracted and corroborate. 130 
+
+Nym. The king is a good king: but it 
+must be as it may; he passes some humours 
+and careers. 
+
+Pisi, Let us condole the knight; 
+
+
+lambkins, we will live. 
+
+
+Scene Il. Southampton. A council-chamber. 
+
+
+Enter Exeter, Beprorp, and 
+WESTMORELAND, 
+
+
+Bed. ‘Fore God, his grace is bold, to trust 
+these traitors. 
+Exe. They shall be apprehended by and by. 
+West. How smooth and even they do bear 
+themselves! 
+As if allegiance in their bosoms sat, 
+Crowned with faith and constant loyalty. 
+Bed. The king hath note of all that they 
+intend, 
+By interception which they dream not of. 
+Exe. Nay, but the man that was his bed- 
+fellow, 
+Whom he hath dull’d and cloy’d with gra- 
+cious favours, 
+That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell 10 
+His sovereign’s life to death and treachery. 
+
+
+for, 
+
+
+Trumpets sound. Enter Kinc Henry, 
+Scroop, Camsripce, Grey, and Attendants. 
+
+
+K. Hen. Now sits the wind fair, and we 
+will aboard. 
+
+
+My Lord of Cambridge, and my ind Lord 
+cf Masham, 
+
+
+And you, my gentle knight, give me your 
+thoughts: 
+Think you not that the powers we bear with us 
+Will cut their passage through the force of 
+France, 
+Doing the execution and the act 
+For which we have in head assembled them? 
+Scroop. No doubt, my hege, if each man 
+do his best. 
+K. Hen. | doubt not that; since we are 
+well persuaded 20 
+We carry not a heart with us from hence 
+That grows not in a fair consent with ours, 
+Nor leave not one behind that doth not wish 
+Success and conquest to attend on us. 
+Cam. Never was monarch better fear'd 
+and loved 
+Than is your majesty: there's not, I think, a 
+subject 
+That sits in heart-grief and uneasiness 
+Under the sweet shade of your government. 
+Grey. True: those that were your father’s 
+
+
+enemies 
+Have steep'd their galls in honey and do serve 
+you 30 
+
+
+With hearts create of duty and of zeal. 
+K. Hen. We therefore have great cause of 
+thankfulness; 
+And shall forget the office of our hand, 
+Sooner than quittance of desert and merit 
+According to the weight and worthiness. 
+Scroop. So service shall with steeled sinews 
+toil, 
+And labour shall refresh itself with hope, 
+To do your grace incessant services. 
+K. Hen. We judge no less. Uncle of 
+Exeter, 
+Enlarge the man committed yesterday, 40 
+That rail’d against our person: we consider 
+It was excess of wine that set him on; 
+And on his more advice we pardon him. 
+Scroop. That's mercy, but too much se- 
+curity: : 
+Let him be punish'’d, sovereign, lest example 
+Breed, by his sufferance, more of such a kind. 
+K. Hen. O, let us yet be merciful. 
+Cam. So may your highness, and yet pun- 
+ish too. 
+Grey. Sir, 
+You show great mercy, if you give him life, 
+After the taste of much correction. 
+K. Hen. Alas, your too much love and 
+care of me 
+Are heavy orisons ‘gainst this poor wretch! 
+If little faults, proceeding on distemper, : 
+Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch 
+our eye 
+When <apital crimes, chew'’d, swallow’d and 
+digested, 
+
+
+oa 
+
+
+a +. 
+
+
+re, a, ’ 
+
+
+Act Il, Sc. II] 
+
+
+KING HENRY WV 
+
+
+549 
+
+
+Appear before us? We'll yet enlarge that 
+
+man, 
+
+Though Cambridge, Scroop and Grey, in their 
+
+dear care 
+
+And tender preservation of our person, 
+
+Would have him punish’d. And now to our 
+
+French causes: 
+
+Who are the late commissioners ? 
+Cam. I one, my lord: 
+
+Your highness bade me ask for it to-day. 
+Scroop. So did you me, my liege. 
+Grey. And I, my royal sovereign. 
+
+K. Hen. Then, Richard Earl of Cam- 
+bridge, there is yours; 
+
+There yours, Lord Scroop of Masham; and, 
+
+sir knight, 
+
+Grey of Northumberland, this same is yours: 
+
+Read them; and know, I know your worthi- 
+
+ness. 
+
+My Lord of Westmoreland, and uncle Exeter, 
+
+We will aboard to night. Why, how now, 
+
+gentlemen! 7\ 
+
+What see you in those papers that you lose 
+
+So much complexion? Look ye, how they 
+
+change! 
+
+Their cheeks are paper. Why, what read you 
+
+there, 
+
+That hath so cowarded and chased your blood 
+
+Out of appearance? 
+
+Cam. I do confess my fault; 
+
+And do submit me to your highness’ mercy. 
+
+
+Ee t To which we all appeal. 
+K. Hen. The mercy that was quick in us 
+but late, 
+
+
+By your own counsel is suppress'd and kill'd: 
+
+You must not dare, for shame, to talk of 
+mercy; 
+
+For your own reasons turn into your bosoms, 
+
+As dogs upon their masters, worrying you. 
+
+See you, my princes and my noble peers, 
+
+These English monsters! My Lord of Cam- 
+
+- bridge here, 
+
+You know how apt our love was to accord 
+
+To furnish him with all appertinents 
+
+Belonging to his honour; and this man 
+
+Hath, for a few light crowns, lightly con- 
+spired, 
+
+And sworn unto the practices of France, 90 
+
+To kill us here in Hampton: to the which 
+
+This knight, no less for bounty bound to us 
+
+Than Cambridge is, hath likewise sworn. 
+But, O, 
+
+What shall I say to thee, Lord Scroop? thou 
+cruel, 
+
+Ingrateful, savage and inhuman creature! 
+
+Thou that didst bear the key to all my counsels, 
+
+That knew’st the very bottom cf my soul, 
+
+That almost mightst have coin’d me into gold, | 
+
+
+Wouldst thou have practised on me for thy 
+use! 
+
+May it be possible, that foreign hire 106 
+
+Could out of thee extract one spark of evi! 
+
+That might annoy my finger? ‘tis so strange, 
+
+That, though the truth of it stands off as gross 
+
+
+60 | As black and white, my eye will scarcely see 11. 
+
+
+Treason and murder ever kept together. 
+As two yoke-devils sworn to either’s purpose, 
+Working so grossly in a natural cause, 
+That admirat:on did not hoop at them: 
+But thou, ‘gainst all proportion, didst bring wm 
+Wonder to wait on treason and on murder: 
+And whatsoever cunning fiend it was 
+That wrought upon thee so preposterously 
+Hath got the voice in hell for excellence: 
+All other devils that suggest by treasons 
+Do botch and bungle up damnation 
+With patches, colours, and with forms bemg 
+fetch'd 
+From glistering semblance of piety; 
+But he that temper’d thee bade thee stand up, 
+Gave thee no instance why thou shouldst do 
+treason, 
+Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor. 
+If that same demon that hath gull’d thee thus 
+Should with his lion gait walk the whole world, 
+He might return to vasty Tartar back, 
+And tell the legions ‘I can never win 
+A soul so easy as that Englishman’s.’ 
+O, how hast thou w:th jealousy infected 
+The sweetness of affance? Show men dutiful? 
+Why, so didst thou: seem they grave and 
+learned ? 
+Why, so didst thou: come they of noble 
+family ? 
+Why, so-didst thou: seem they religious? 130 
+Why, so didst thou: or are they spare in diet, 
+Free from gross passion or of mirth or anger, 
+Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood, 
+Garn’sh’d and deck’d in modest complement, 
+Not working with the eye without the ear, 
+And but in purged judgement trusting neither ? 
+Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem: 
+And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot, 
+To mark the full-fraught man and best indued 
+With some suspicion. I will weep for thee; 
+For this revolt of thine, methinks, is lke 
+Another fall of man. Their faults are open: 
+Arrest them to the answer of the law; 
+And God acquit them of their practices! 
+Exe. I arrest thee of high treason, by the 
+name of Richard Earl of Cambridge. 
+I arrest thee of high treason, by the name 
+of Henry Lord Scroop of Masham. 
+I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of 
+Thomas Grey, knight, of Northumberland. 
+Scroop. Our purposes God justly hath dis- 
+cover'd: 
+
+
+550 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+And I repent my fault more than my death; 
+hich I beseech your highness to forgive, 
+Although my body pay the price of it. 
+Cam. For me, the gold of France did not 
+seduce; 
+Adthough I did admit it as a motive 
+The sooner to effect what I intended: 
+But God be thanked for prevention; 
+Which I in sufferance heartily will rejoice, 
+Beseeching God and you to pardon me. 160 
+Grey. Never did faithful subject more re- 
+joice 
+At the discovery of most dangerous treason 
+Than I do at this hour joy o’er myself, 
+Prevented from a damned enterprise: 
+My fault, but not my body, pardon, sovereign. 
+K. Hen. God quit youin his mercy! Hear 
+your sentence. 
+You have conspired against our royal person, 
+Join’d with an enemy proclaim’d and from 
+his coffers 
+Received the golden earnest of our death; 
+Wherein you would have sold your king to 
+slaughter, 170 
+
+
+Elis princes and his peers to servitude, 
+His subjects to oppression and contempt 
+And his whole kingdom into desolation. 
+Touching our person seek we no revenge; 
+But we our kingdom’s safety must so tender, 
+Whose ruin you have sought, that to her laws 
+We do deliver you. Get you therefore hence, 
+Poor miserable wretches, to your death: 
+The taste whereof, God of his mercy give 
+You patience to endure, and true repentance 
+Gé all your dear offences! Bear them hence. 
+[Exeunt Cambridge, Scroop and Grey, 
+guarded. 
+Now, lords, for France; the enterprise whereof 
+Shall be to you, as us, like glorious. 
+We doubt not of a fair and lucky war, 
+Since God so graciously hath brought to light 
+This dangerous treason lurking in our way 
+To hinder our beginnings. | We doubt not now 
+But every rub is smoothed on our way. 
+‘Then forth; dear countrymen: let us deliver 
+Our puissance into the hand of God, 190 
+Putting it straight in expedition. 
+Cheerly to sea; the signs of war advance: 
+No. king of England, if not king of France. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene Ill. London. Before a tavern. 
+Eater Pistor, Hostess, Nym, BaRDOoLPH, 
+and Boy. 
+
+Host. Prithee, honey-sweet husband, let 
+
+me bring thee to Staines. 
+Pist. No; for my manly heart doth yearn. | 
+Bardoloh, be blithe: Nym, rouse thy vaunting 
+veins: 
+
+
+| Let us to France; like horse-leeches, my boys, 
+
+
+Boy, bristle thy courage up; for Falstaff he 
+is dead, 
+
+And we must yearn therefore. 
+
+Bard. Would I were with him, where- 
+some’er he is, either in heaven or in hell! 
+
+Host. Nay, sure, he’s not in hell: he’s in 
+Arthur’s bosom, if ever man went to Arthur’s 
+bosom. A’ made a finer end and went away 
+an it had been any christom child; a’ parted 
+even just between twelve and one, even at the 
+turning o’ the tide: for after | saw him fum- 
+ble with the sheets and play with flowers and 
+smile upon his fingers’ ends, | knew there 
+was but one way; for his nose was as sharp 
+as a pen, and a’ babbled of green fields. 
+‘How now, Sir John!’ quoth I: ‘what, man! 
+be 0’ good cheer.’ So a’ cried out ‘God, God, 
+God!’ three or four times. Now I, to com- 
+fort h'm, bid him a’ should not think of God; 
+I hoped there was no need to trouble himself 
+with any such thoughts yet. So a’ bade me 
+lay more clothes on his feet: I put my hand 
+into the bed and felt them, and they were as 
+cold as any stone; then I felt to his knees, 
+and they were as cold as any stone, and so 
+upward and upward, and all was as cold as 
+
+
+any stone. 
+Nym. They say he cried out of sack, 
+Host. Ay, that a’ did. 30 
+
+
+Bard. And of women. 
+
+Host. Nay, that a’ did not. 
+
+Boy. Yes, that a’ did; and said they were 
+devils incarnate. 
+
+Host. A’ could never abide carnation; 
+‘twas a colour he never liked. 
+
+Boy. A’ said once, the devil would have 
+him about women. 
+
+Host. ’A did in some sort, indeed, handle 
+women; but then he was rheumatic, and 
+talked of the whore of Babylon. 4\ 
+
+Boy. Do you not remember, a’ saw a flea 
+stick upon Bardolph’s nose, and a’ said it was 
+a black soul burning in hell-fire? 3 
+
+Bard. Well, the fuel is gone that main- 
+tained that fire: that’s all the riches I got m 
+his service. 
+
+Nym. Shall we shog? the king will be 
+gone from Southampton. 
+
+Pist. Come, let’s away. My love, give me 
+
+thy lips. 
+Look to my chattels and my movables: 50 
+Let senses rule; the word is ‘Pitch and Pay: 
+Trust none; 
+For oaths are straws, men’s faiths are wafer- 
+cakes, 
+And hold-fast is the only dog, my duck: 
+Therefore, Caveto be thy counsellor. 
+Go, clear thy crystals. Yoke-fellows in arms, 
+
+
+[Act HI, Sc. HI 
+
+
+Ne Sa Ss 
+
+
+2 Por vk Scr avy 
+
+
+To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck! 
+Boy. And that’s but unwholesome food, 
+they say. 
+Pist. Touch her soft mouth, and march. 
+Bard. Farewell, hostess. [Kissing her. 
+Nym. I cannot kiss, that is the humour of 
+it; but, adieu. 
+Pist. Let housewifery appear: 
+I thee command. 
+Host. Farewell, adieu. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. France. The Kine’s palace, 
+Flourish, Enter the FRENCH Kina, the Davu- 
+
+
+keep close, 
+
+
+PHIN, the Dukes oF BERRI and BRETAGNE, | 
+
+
+the CONSTABLE, and others. 
+
+
+Fr. King. Thus comes the English with 
+
+full power upon us; 
+
+And more than carefully it us concerns 
+
+To answer royally in our defences. 
+
+Therefore the Dukes of Berri and Bretagne, 
+
+Of Brabant and of Orleans, shall make forth, 
+
+And you, Prince Dauphin, with all swift dis- 
+patch, 
+
+To line and new repair our towns of war 
+
+With men of courage and with means de- 
+fendant; 
+
+For England his approaches makes as fierce 
+
+As waters to the sucking of a gulf. 10 
+
+It fits us then to be as provident 
+
+As fear may teach us out of late examples 
+
+Left by the fatal and neglected English 
+
+Upon our fields. 
+
+Dau. My most redoubted father, 
+
+It is most meet we arm us ‘gainst the foe; 
+
+For peace itself should not so dull a kingdom, 
+
+Though war nor no known quarrel were in 
+question, 
+
+But that defences, musters, preparations, 
+
+Should be maintain’d, assembled and collected, 
+
+As were a war in expectation. 20 
+
+Therefore, I say ‘tis meet we all go forth 
+
+To view the sick and feeble parts of France: 
+
+And let us do it with no show of fear; 
+
+No, with no more than if we heard that Eng- 
+land 
+
+Were busied with a Wh'tsun morris-dance: 
+
+For, my good liege, she is so idly king’d, 
+
+er sceptre so fantastically bore 
+By a vain, giddy, shallow, humourous youth, 
+That fear attends her not. 
+
+Con. O peace, Prince Dauphin! 
+You are too much mistaken in this king: 30 
+QueStion your grace the late ambassadors, 
+With what great state he heard their embassy, 
+How well suppl'ed with noble counsellors, 
+How modest :n exception, and withal 
+How terrible in constant resolution, 
+
+And you shall find his vanities forespent 
+Were but the outside of the Roman Brutus, 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+551 
+
+
+| Covering discretion with a coat of folly; 
+
+
+As gardeners do with ordure hide those roots 
+That shall first appear and be most delicate. 40 
+Dau. Well, ‘tis not so, my lord h.gh con- 
+stable; 
+But though we think it so, it is no matter: 
+In cases of defence ‘tis best to weigh 
+The enemy more mighty than he seems: 
+So the proportions of defence are fill’d; 
+Which of a weak and niggardly projection 
+Doth, like a miser, spoil his coat with scanting 
+A I ttle cloth. 
+Fr. King. Think we King Harry strong; 
+
+
+And, princes, look you strongly arm to meet 
+
+
+him. 
+The kindred of him hath been flesh’d upon us; 
+And he is bred out of that bloody strain 51 
+That haunted us in our familiar paths: 
+Witmess our too much memorable shame 
+When Cressy battle fatally was struck, 
+And all our princes captived by the hand 
+Of that black name, Edward, Black Prince of 
+Wales; 
+Whiles that his mountain sire, On mountain 
+standing, 
+Up in the air, crown'd with the golden sun, 
+Saw his heroical seed, and smiled to see him, 
+Mangle the work of nature and deface 60 
+The patterns that by God and by French 
+fathers 
+Had twenty years been made. This is a stem 
+Of that victorious stock; and let us fear 
+The native m ghtiness and fate of him. 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+Mess. Ambassadors from Harry King of 
+England 
+Do crave admittance to your majesty. 
+Fr. King. We'll give them present audi- 
+ence. Go, and bring them. 
+[Exeunt Messenger and certain Lords, 
+You see this chase is hotly follow’d, friends, 
+Dau. Turn head, and step pursuit; for 
+coward dogs 
+Most spend their mouths when what they 
+seem to threaten 70 
+Runs far before them. Good my sovereign, 
+Take up the English short, and let them know 
+Of what a monarchy you are the head: 
+Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin 
+As self-neglecting. 
+Re-enter Lords, with Exeter and train. 
+
+
+Fy. King. From our brother England? 
+Exe. From him; and thus he greets your 
+majesty. 
+He wills you, in the name of God Almighty, 
+That you divest yourself, and lay apart 
+The borrow'd glories that by gift of heaven, 
+By law of nature and of nations, ‘long 80 
+
+
+> 
+
+
+552 KING HENRY V [Act ILI, PRoLocur 
+
+
+ph oe ee oe 
+To him and to his heirs; namely, the crown As matching to his youth and vanity, 130 
+And all w.de-stretched honours that pertain I did present him with the Paris balls. 
+
+
+By custom and the ordinance of times Exe. He'll make your Paris Louvre, shake 
+Unto the crown of France. That you may for it, 
+
+know Were it the mistress-court of mighty Europe: 
+‘Tis no sinister nor no awkward claim, And, be assured, you'll find a difference, 
+
+
+Pick’d from the worm-holes of long-vanish’d As we his subjects have in wonder found, 
+days, Between the promise of his greener days 
+
+
+Nor from the dust of old oblivion raked, And these he masters now: now he weighs 
+He sends you this most memorable line, time 
+
+In every branch truly demonstrative; Even to the utmost grain: that you shall read 
+Willing you overlook this pedigree: 90 | In your own losses, if he stay in France. 
+And when you find him evenly derived Fr, King. To-morrow shall you know our 
+From his most famed of famous ancestors, mind at fuil. 140 
+Edward the Third, he bids you then resign Exe. Dispatch us with all speed, lest that 
+Your crown and kingdom, ind rectly held our king 
+
+
+Come here h'mself to question our delay; 
+For he is footed in this land already. 
+Fr. King. You shall be soon dispatch'd 
+with fair conditions: 
+A night is but small breath and little pause 
+To answer matters of this consequence. 
+
+
+[Flourish. Exeunt, 
+
+
+From him the native and true challenger. 
+Fr. King. Or else what follows? 
+Exe. Bloody constraint; for if you hide 
+the crown 
+Even in your hearts, there will he rake for it: 
+Therefore in fierce tempest is he com ng, 
+In thunder and in earthquake, like a Jove, 
+That, if requiring fail, he will compel; 
+And bids you, in the bowels of the Lord, 
+Deliver up the crown, and to take mercy 
+On the poor souls for whom this hungry war 
+Opens his vasty jaws; and on your head 
+Turning the widows’ tears, the orphans’ cries, 
+The dead men’s blood, the p'ning maidens’ 
+groans, 
+For husbands, fathers, and betrothed lovers, 
+That shall be swallow'd in this controversy. 
+This is his claim, his threatening, and my 
+message ; 110 
+Unless the Dauphin be in presence here, 
+To whom expressly I bring greeting too. 
+Fr. King. For us, we will consider of this 
+further: 
+To-morrow shall you bear our full intent 
+Back to our brother England. 
+
+
+ACT Hl. 
+
+
+PROLOGUE. 
+Enter Chorus. 
+
+
+Chor. Thus with imagined wing our swift 
+
+scene flies 
+
+In motion of no less celerity 
+
+Than that of thought. Suppose that you have 
+seen 
+
+The well-appointed king at Hampton pier 
+
+Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet 
+
+With silken streamers the young Phoebus 
+fanning: 
+
+Play with your fancies, and in them behold 
+
+Upon the hempen tackle ship-boys climbing; 
+
+Hear the shrill whistle which doth order give 
+
+To sounds confused; behold the threaden sails, 
+
+
+Dau. For the Dauph’n, | Borne with the invisible and creeping wind, 11 
+{ stand here for him: what to him from Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'’d 
+England? sea, 
+Exe. Scorn and defiance; slight regard, Breasting the lofty surge: O, do but think 
+contempt, You stand upon the rivage and behold 
+
+
+A city on the inconstant billows dancing; 
+
+For so appears this fleet majestical, 
+
+Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, 
+follow: 
+
+Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy, 
+
+And oe your England, as dead midnight 
+Stil, 
+
+Guarded with grandsires, babies and old 
+women, 
+
+Either past or not arrived to pith and puis- 
+ance; 
+
+For who is he, whose chin is but enrich’d 
+
+With one appearing hair, that will not follow 
+
+
+And any thing that may not misbecome 
+The mighty sender, doth he prize you at. 
+Thus says my king; an if your father’s 
+highness 120 
+
+Do not, in grant of all demands at large, 
+Sweeten the bitter mock you sent his majesty, 
+He'll call you to so hot an answer of it, 
+That caves and womby vaultages of France 
+Shall chide your trespass and return your mock 
+{n second accent of his ordnance. 
+
+Dau. Say, if my father render fair return, 
+ft is against my will; for I desire 
+
+
+Jothing but odds with England: to that end, 
+
+
+{ 
+, 
+5 
+
+
+ee ee 
+
+
+Acr lll, Sc. 1] 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+553 
+
+
+_ These cull’d and choice-drawn cavaliers to 
+France? 
+
+Work, work your thoughts, and therein see 
+a siege; ° 
+
+| Behold the ordnance on their carriages, 
+
+With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur. 
+
+Suppose the ambassador from the French 
+comes back; 
+
+Tells Harry that the king doth offer him 
+
+Katharine his daughter, and with her, to dowry, 
+
+Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms. +3] 
+
+The offer likes not: and the nimble gunner 
+
+With linstock now the devilish cannon touches, 
+
+[Alarum, and chambers go off. 
+And down goes all before them. Still be kind, 
+And eke our our performance with your mind. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+
+
+Scene I. France. Before Harfleur. 
+
+
+Alarum. Enter Kinc Henry, ExeEtTER, 
+Beprorp, GLoucesTER, and Soldiers, with 
+scaling-ladders, 
+
+
+K. Hen. Once more unto the breach, dear 
+friends, once more; 
+
+Or close the wall up with our English dead. 
+In peace ihere’s nothing so becomes a man 
+As modest stillness and humility: 
+But when the blast of war blows in our ears, 
+Then imitate the action of the tiger; 
+Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, 
+Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage; 
+Then lend the eye a terrible aspect; 
+Let it pry through the portage of the head 10 
+Like the brass cannon; let the brow o’erwhelm 
+
+
+it 
+
+As fearfully as doth a galled rock 
+
+O’erhang and jutty his confounded base, 
+
+Swill’d with the wild and wasteful ocean. 
+
+Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide, 
+
+Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit 
+
+To his full height. On, on, you noblest English, 
+
+Whose blood is fet from fathers of war- 
+proof! 
+
+Fathers that, like so many Alexanders, 19 
+
+Have in these parts from morn till even fought 
+
+And sheathed their swords for lack of argu- 
+ment: A 
+
+Dishonour not your mothers; now attest 
+
+That those whom you call'd fathers did beget 
+you. 
+
+Be copy now to men of grosser blood, 
+
+And teach them how to war. And you, good 
+yeomen, 
+
+Whose limbs were made in England, show 
+us here 
+
+The mettle of your pasture; let us swear 
+
+That you are worth your breeding; which I 
+doubt not; 
+
+For there is none of you so mean and base, 
+
+
+That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. 30 
+I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, 
+Straining upon the start. The game’s afoot: 
+Follow your spirit, and upon this charge 
+
+
+Cry ‘God for Harry, England, and Saint 
+
+
+George!’ 
+[Exeunt. Alarum, and chambers go off. 
+Scene II. The same, 
+
+
+Enter Nym, Barpotpu, Pistot, and Boy. 
+
+Bard. On, on, on, on, on! to the breach, 
+to the breach! 
+
+Nym. Pray thee, corporal, stay: the knocks 
+are too hot; and for mine own part, | have 
+not a case of lives: the humour of it is too 
+hot, that is the very plain-song of it. 
+
+Pist. The plain-song is most just; for 
+
+humours do abound: 
+Knocks go and come; God's vassals drop and 
+
+
+die; 
+And sword and shield, 
+In bloody field, 
+Doth win immortal fame. 
+Boy. Would I were in an alehouse in 
+London! I would give all my fame for a pot 
+of ale and safety. 
+Pist. And I: 
+If wishes would prevail with me, 
+My purpose should not fail with me, 
+But th ther would I hie. 
+Boy. As duly, but not as truly, 
+As bird doth sing on bough. 
+
+
+Enter FLUELLEN. 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+Flu. Up to the breach, you dogs! avaunt, 
+you cullions! [Driving them forward. 
+
+Pist. Be merciful, great duke, to men of 
+
+mould, 
+Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage, 
+Abate thy rage, great duke! 
+Good bawcock, bate thy rage; use lenity, 
+sweet chuck! 
+
+Nym. These be good humours! your hon- 
+our wins bad humours. [Exeunt all but Boy. 
+
+Boy. As young as I am, I have observed 
+these three swashers. I am boy to them all 
+three: but all they three, though they would 
+serve me, could not be man to me; for in- 
+deed three such antics do not amount to a man, 
+For Bardolph, he is white-livered and red- 
+faced; by the means whereof a’ faces it out, 
+but fights not. For Pistol, he hath a killing 
+tongue and:a quiet sword; by means whereof 
+he breaks words, and keeps whole weapons. 
+For Nym, he hath heard that men of few 
+words are the best men; and therefore he 
+scorns to say his prayers, lest a’ should be 
+thought a coward: but his few bad words are 
+matched with as few good deeds; for a’ never 
+
+
+554 KING HENRY V [Acr IIL, Sc. fl 
+NORE ie a en ee 
+
+
+Mac. By Chrish, la! tish ill done: the work 
+
+
+broke any man’s head but his own, and that 
+was against a post when he was drunk. They |ish give over, the trompet sound the retreat. 
+will steal any thing, ana call it a purchase. | By my hand, I swear, and my father’s soul, 
+Bardolph stole a lute-case, bore it twelve|the work ish ill done; it ish g.ve over: I 
+
+
+leagues, and sold it for three half-pence. Nym | would have blowed up the town, so Chrish |, 
+
+
+save me, la! in an hour: O, tish ill done, tish 
+ill done; by my hand, tish ill done! 99 
+
+Fiu. Captain Macmorris, I beseech you 
+now, will you voutsafe me, look you, a few 
+
+
+and Bardolph are sworn brothers in filching, 
+and in Calais they stole a fire-shovel: I knew 
+by that piece of service the men would carry 
+coals. ‘They would have me as familiar w th 
+men’s pockets as their gloves or their hand- | disputations with you, as partly touch'ng or 
+kerchers: which makes much against my man- concerning the disciplines of the war, the 
+hood, if I should take from another’s pocket to | Roman wars, in the way of argument, look 
+put into mine; for it is plain pocketing up of | you, and friendly communication; partly to 
+wrongs. I must leave them, and seek some | satisfy my opinion and party for the satisfac- 
+better service: their villany goes against my | tion, look you, of my mind, as touching the 
+weak stomach, and therefore I must cast it|d rection of the military discipline; that is the 
+up. [ Exit. | point. 
+
+Re-enter FLUELLEN, GowER following. Jamy. It sall be very gud, gud faith, gud 
+
+Cow. Captain Fluellen, you must come captains ba.s: and I sall quit you with gud 
+
+
+presently to the mines; the Duke of Glouces- leve, as I may pick occasion; that sall I, 
+60 
+
+
+ter would speak with you. rap ay ; : : , 
+Flu. To the mines! tell you ieeiduke itis Mac. It is no time to discourse, so Chrish 
+
+
+not so good to come to the mines; fereicokil er are the day is hot, and the weather, and 
+
+: 4 ; p » 100K | 1. wars, and the king, and the dukes: it is no 
+
+you, the mines 1s not according to the dis- |. di T 3 q 
+
+ciplines of the war: the concavities of it is time to discourse. The town is beseeched, an 
+
+net sufficient: for, look you, th’ athversary the trumpet call us to the breach; and we talk, 
+; 5 , 2 2 ey 
+
+you may discuss unto the dubles tosmgoue ts and, be Chrish, do nothing: "tis shame for 
+
+
+digt himself four yard under the countermines: | all: so God sa’ me, "tis shame to stand 
+
+
+; AR Z still; it is shame, by my ‘hand: and there is 
+aie ey plow up all, if there throats to be cut, and works to be done; 
+
+
+Com. The Duke of Gloucester, to whom and there ish nothing done, so Chrish sa’ me, 
+
+
+the order of the siege is given, is altogether la! 121 
+
+
+directed by an Irishman, a very valiant gen- J LE xd re rae lok pps = 
+eaua! (etal mine take themselves to slomber, ay le gu 
+
+
+Flu. It is Captain Macmorris, is it not? pee Slee ee a grund for es ae ce 
+Chip T think it be. go to death; and ay pay t as valorously as 
+Fic By ‘Chathu!’ be is Van's), as ‘th the I may, that sall I suerly do, that is the breff 
+Sutaes ae Bini and the long. Marry, I wad full fain hear 
+world: I will verify as much in h’s beard: he See ys 
+ys ° 6 ‘imrt some question ‘tween you tway. 
+has no more directions in the true disciplines : ; é 
+: Flu. Captain Macmorr's, I think, look you, 
+of the wars, look you, of the Roman dis- d ; : 
+Fates : under your correction, there is not many of 
+ciplines, than is a puppy-dog. vocieo rationed 3 
+Enter Macorris and Captain Jay. Mac. Of my nation! What ish my nation ? 
+Gow. Here a’ come; and the Scots cap- Ish a villain, and a bastard, and a knave, and 
+tain. Captain Jamy, with him. 0|a rascal—What ish my nation? Who talks 
+Flu. Captain Jamy is a marvellous falor- | of my nation? 
+ous gentleman, that is certain; and of great| Flu. Look you, if you take the matter 
+expedition and knowledge in th’ aunchient otherwise than is meant, Captain Macmorris, 
+wars, upon my particular knowledge of his di- peradventure I shall think you do not use me 
+rections: by Cheshu, he will maintain ene w th that affability as in discretion you ought 
+gament as well as any military man in the | to use me, look you; being as good a man as 
+world, in the disciplines of the pristine wars yourself, both in the disciplines of war, and in 
+of the Romais. Aap oe the derivation of my birth, and in other 
+Jamy. | say gud-day, Captain Fluellen. | particularities. 
+Fu. God-den to your worship, good Cap-| Mac. I do not know you so good a man as 
+age ae ; st mee = Chrish save me, I will cut off 
+ow. How now, Captain Macmorris! have | your head. 
+you quit the mines? have the pioners given| Gow. Gentlemen both, you will mistake 
+ser? each other. 
+
+
+7 
+
+
+| 
+| 
+: 
+
+
+: 
+
+
+Act Ill, Se. IV] 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+555 
+
+
+| Jamy. A! that’s a foul fault. 
+[A parley sounded. 
+_|Gow. The town sounds a parley. 149 
+Flu. Captan Macmorris, when there is 
+more better opportunity to be required, look 
+you, 1 will be so bo!d as to tell you I know 
+the disciplines of war; and there is an end. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. The same. Before the gates. 
+
+
+The Governor and some Citizens on the walls; 
+the English forces below. Enter Kino 
+Henry and his train. 
+
+
+K. Hen. How yet resolves the governor of 
+the town? 
+This is the latest parley we will admit: 
+Therefore to our best mercy give yourselves; 
+Or like to men proud of destruct’on 
+Defy us to our worst: for, as I am a soldier, 
+_A name that in my thoughts becomes me best, 
+If I begin the battery once again, 
+{ will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur 
+Till in her ashes she lie buried. 
+The gates of mercy shall be all shut up, 10 
+And the flesh’d soldier, rough and hard of 
+heart, 
+In liberty of bloody hand shall range 
+With conscience wide as hell, mowing like 
+grass 
+Your fresh-fair virgins and your flowering 
+infants. 
+What is it then to me, if impious war, 
+Array’d in flames like to the prince of fiends, 
+Do, with his smirch’d complexion, all fell 
+» feats 
+Enlink’d to waste and desolation? 
+What is't to me, when you yourselves are 
+cause, 
+If your pure maidens fall into the hand 20 
+Of hot and forcing violation > 
+What rein can hold licentious wickedness 
+When down the hill he holds his fierce career ? 
+We may as bootless spend our vain command 
+Upon the enraged soldiers in their spoil 
+As send precepts to the leviathan 
+To come ashore. Therefore, you men of 
+ Harfleur, 
+Take pity of your town and of your people, 
+Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command; 
+Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of 
+grace 30 
+O'erblows the filthy and contag*ous clouds 
+Of heady murder, spoil and v Ilany. 
+If not, why, in a moment look to see 
+The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand 
+Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking 
+daughters; 
+Your fathers taken by the silver beards, 
+
+
+And their most reverend heads dash’d to the 
+walls, 
+Your naked infants spitted upon pikes, 
+Whiles the mad mothers with their howls 
+confused 
+Deo break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry 
+At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen. 4] 
+What say you? will you yield, and thus avoid, 
+Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroy’d? 
+a! Our expectation hath this day an 
+end: 
+The Dauphin, whom of succours we entreated, 
+Returns us that his powers are yet not ready 
+To raise so great a s.ege. Therefore, great 
+king, 
+We yield our town and lives to thy soft mercy. 
+Enter our gates; dispose of us and ours; 
+For we no longer are defensible. 50 
+K. Hen. Open your gates. Come, uncle 
+Exeter, 
+Go you and enter Harfleur; there remain, 
+And fortify it strongly ‘gainst the French: 
+Use mercy to them all. For us, dear uncle, 
+The wirter coming on and sickness growing 
+Upon our soldiers, we will retire to Calais. 
+To-night in Harfleur will we be vour guest; 
+To-morrow for the march are we addrest. 
+[Flourish. The King and his train enter 
+the town, 
+
+
+Scene [V. The FrenNcw Kino's palace. 
+Enter KATHARINE and ALICE. 
+
+
+Kath. Alice, tu as eté en Angleterre, et tu 
+parles bien le langage. 
+
+Alice. Un peu, madame. 
+
+Kath. Je te pre, m'ensiegnez; il faute que 
+j'apprenne & parler. Comment appelez-vous 
+la main en Anglois? 
+
+Alice, La main? elle est appelée de hand. 
+
+Kath. De hand. Et les doigts? 
+
+Alice. Les doigts? ma foi, j’oublie les 
+doigts; mais je me souviendrai. Les doigts>? 
+je pense qu’ils sont appelés de fingres; oui, de 
+fingres. 
+
+Kath. La main, de hand; les doigts, de 
+fingres. Je pense que je suis le bon écolier; 
+jai gagné deux mots d’Anglois vitement. 
+Comment appelez-vous les ongles? 
+
+Alice. Les ongles> nous les appelons de 
+nails. A 
+
+Kath. De nails. Ecoutez; dites-moi, si je 
+parle bien: de hand, de fingres, et de nails. 
+
+Alice. C’est bien dit, madame; il est fort 
+bon Anglois. 20 
+
+Kath. Dites-moi l’Anglo’s pour le bras. 
+
+Alice. De arm, madame. 
+
+Kath. Et le coude? 
+
+Alice. De elbow. 
+
+Kath. De elbow. Je m’en fais la répeti- 
+
+
+556 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+[Act III, Se. V 
+
+
+tion de tous les mots que vous m’avez appris 
+dés & présent. 
+
+Alice. Il est trop difficile, madame, comme 
+je pense. 
+
+Kath. Excusez-moi, Alice; ecoutez: de 
+hand, de fingres, de nails, de arma, de bilbow. 
+
+Alice. De elbow, madame. 
+
+Kath. O Seigneur Dieu, je m’en oublie! 
+de elbow. Comment appelez-vous le col? 
+
+Alice. De neck, madame. 
+
+Kath. De nick. Et le menton? 
+
+Alice, De chin. 
+
+Kath. De sin. Le col, de nick; le men- 
+ton, de sin. 39 
+
+Alice. Oui. Sauf votre honneur, en vérite, 
+yous prononcez let mots aussi droit que les 
+natifs d’Angleterre. 
+
+Kath. Je ne doute point d’apprendre, par 
+la grace de Dieu, et en peu de temps. 
+
+Alice. N’avez vous pas deja oublié ce que 
+je vous al enseigné > 
+
+Kath. Non, je reciterat & vous prompte- 
+ment: de hand, de fingres, de mails,— 
+
+Alice. De nails, madame. 
+
+Kath. De nails, de arm, de ilbow. 
+
+Alice. Sauf votre honneur, de elbow. 50 
+
+Kath. Ainsi dis-je; de elbow, de nick, et 
+de sin. Comment appelez-vous le pied et la 
+robe? 
+
+Alice. De foot, madame; et de coun. 
+
+Kath. De foot et de coun! O Seigneur 
+Dieu! ce sont mots de son mauvais, cor- 
+ruptible, gros, et impudique, et non pour les 
+dames d'honneur d’user: je ne voudrais pro- 
+noncer ces mots devant les seigneurs de 
+France pour tout le monde. Foh! le foot et 
+le coun! Néanmoins, je reciterai une autre 
+fois ma lecon ensemble: de hand, de fingres, 
+de nails, de arm, de elbow, de nick, de sin, 
+de foot, de coun. 
+
+Alice. Excellent, madame. 
+
+Kath. C'est assez pour une fois: allons- 
+nous & diner. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene V. The same. 
+
+
+Enter the Kinc oF France, the DAUPHIN, 
+the DUKE oF Bourson, the CONSTABLE OF 
+FRANCE, and others. 
+
+
+Fr. King. "Tis certain he hath pass'd the 
+river Somme. 
+Con. And if he be not fought withal, my 
+; lord, 
+tet us not live in France; let us quit all 
+And give our vineyards to a barbarous people. 
+Dau. O Dieu vivant! shall a few sprays 
+of us, 
+‘The emptying of our fathers’ luxury, 
+Our scions, put in wild and savage stock, 
+Spirt up so suddenly into the clouds, 
+
+
+And overlook their grafters? 
+Bour. Normans, but bastard Normans, 
+Norman bastards! 
+Mort de ma vie! if they march along 
+Unfought withal, but I will sell my dukedom, 
+To buy a slobbery and a dirty farm 
+In that nook-shotten isle of Albion. 
+Con. Dieu de batailles! where have they 
+this mettle? 
+Is not their climate foggy, raw and dull, 
+On whom, as in despite, the sun looks pale, 
+Killing their fruit with frowns? Can sodden 
+water, 
+A drench for sur-rein’d jades, their barley- 
+broth, 
+Decoct their cold blocd to such valiant heat? 
+And shall our quick blood, spirited with wine, 
+Seem frosty? ©, for honour of our land, 
+Let us not hang like roping icicles 
+Upon our houses’ thatch, whiles a more frosty 
+people 
+Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich 
+fields! 
+Poor we may call them in their native lords, 
+Dau. By faith and honour, 
+Our madams mock at us, and plainly say 
+Our mettle is bred out and they will give 
+Their bodies to the lust of English youth 30 
+To new-store France with bastard warriors. 
+Bour. They bid us to the English dancing- 
+schoois, ‘ 
+And teach lavoltas high and swift corantos; 
+Saying our grace is only in our heels, 
+And that we are most lofty runaways. 
+Fr. King. Where is Mountjoy the herald? 
+speed him hence: 
+Let him greet England with our sharp defi- 
+ance. 
+Up, princes! and, with spirit of honour edged 
+More aie than your swords, hie to the 
+field: 
+Charles Delabreth, high constable of France; 
+You Dukes of Orleans, Bourbon, and of Berri, 
+Alencon, Brabant, Bar, and Burgundy; 
+Jaques Chatillon, Rambures, Vaudemont, 
+Beaumont, Grandpré, Roussi, and Fauconberg, 
+Foix, Lestrale, Bouciqualt, and Charolois; 
+High dukes, great princes, barons, lords and 
+knights, 
+For your great seats now quit you of great 
+shames. 
+Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our 
+land 
+With pennons painted in the blood of Har- 
+fleur: 
+Rush on his host, as doth the melted snow 50 
+Upon the valleys, whose low vassal seat 
+The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon: 
+Go down upon him, you have power enough, 
+
+
+—_—-— 
+
+
+Act Ill, Sc. VI] 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+557 
+
+
+And in a captive chariot into Rouen 
+Bring him our prisoner. 
+Con. This becomes the great. 
+Sorry am [| his numbers are so few, 
+His soldiers sick and famish’d in their march, 
+For I am sure, when he shall see our army, 
+He'll drop his heart into the sink of fear 
+And for achievement offer us his ransom. 60 
+Fr. King. Therefore, lord constable, haste 
+on Montjoy, 
+And let him say to England that we send - 
+To know what willing ransom he will give. 
+Prince Dauphin, you shall stay with us in 
+Rouen. 
+Dau. Not so, I do beseech your majesty. 
+Fr. King. Be patient, for you shall remain 
+with us. 
+Now forth, lord constable and princes all, 
+And quickly bring us word of England's fall. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+“SceNE VI. The English camp in Picardy. 
+
+
+Enter Gower and FLUELLEN, meeting. 
+
+Gow. How now, Captain Fluellen! come 
+you from the bridge? 
+
+Flu, I assure you, there is very excellent 
+services committed at the bridge. 
+
+Gow. Is the Duke of Exeter safe? 
+
+Flu. The Duke of Exeter is as magnani- 
+mous as Agamemnon; and a man that I love 
+and honour with my soul, and my heart, and 
+my duty, and my life, and my living, and my 
+uttermost power: he is not—God be praised 
+and blessed!—any hurt in the world; but 
+keeps the bridge most valiantly, with excel- 
+lent discipline. There is an aunchient lieuten- 
+ant there at the pridge, I think in my very 
+conscience he is as valiant a man as Mark 
+Antony; and he is a man of no estimation:in 
+the world; but I did see him do as gallant 
+service, 
+
+Gow, What do you call him? 
+
+Flu. He is called Aunchient Pistol. 
+
+
+Gow. I know him not. 20 
+Enter Pistov. 
+Flu. Here is the man. 
+
+
+Pist. Captain, I do thee beseech to do me 
+| favours: 
+The Duke of Exeter doth love thee well. 
+Flu. Ay, I praise God; and I have mer- 
+ited some love at his hands. 
+Pist. Bardolph, a soldier, firm and sound 
+of, cheart, 
+And of buxom valour, hath, by cruel fate, 
+‘And giddy Fortune's furious fickle wheel, 
+‘That goddess blind, 
+That stands upon the rolling restless stone— 
+Flu. By your patience, Aunchient Pistol. 
+Fortune is painted blind, with a muffler afore 
+
+
+her eyes, to signify to you that Fortune is 
+blind: and she is painted also with a wheel, to 
+signify to you, which is the moral of it, that 
+she is turning, and inconstant, and mutability, 
+and variation: and her foot, look you, is fixed 
+upon a spherical stone, which rolls, and rolls, 
+and rolls: in good truth, the poet makes a 
+most excellent description of it: Fortune is an 
+
+
+excellent moral. 
+Bardolph’s and 
+
+
+Pist. Fortune is 
+‘frowns on him; 
+For he hath stolen a pax, and hanged must 
+a’ be: 
+A damned death! 
+Let gallows gape for dog; let man go free 
+And let not hemp his wind-pipe suffocate: 
+But Exeter hath g'ven the doom of death 
+For pax of little price. 
+Therefore, go speak; the duke will hear thy 
+voice; 
+And let not Bardolph’s vital thread be cut 
+With edge of penny cord and vile reproach: 
+Speak, captain, for his life, and I will thee 
+requite. 
+
+Flu, Aunchient Pistol, I do partly under- 
+stand your meaning. 
+
+Pist. Why then, rejoice therefore. 
+
+Flu. Certainly, aunchient, it is not a thing 
+to rejoice at: for if, look you, he were my 
+brother, I would desire the duke to use his 
+good pleasure, and put him to execution; for 
+discipline ought to be used. 
+
+Pist. Die and be damn'd! and figo for thy 
+
+friendship! 60 
+
+Flu. le is well. 
+
+Pist. The fig of Spain! 
+
+Flu. Very good. 
+
+Gow. Why, this is an arrant counterfeit 
+rascal; | remember him now; a bawd, a cut- 
+purse. 
+
+Flu. I'll assure you, a’ uttered as prave 
+words at the pridge as you shall see in a sum- 
+mer’s day. But it is very well; what he has 
+spoke to me, that is well, I warrant you, when 
+time is serve. 69 
+
+Gow. Why, 'tis a gull, a fool, a rogue, that 
+now and then goes to the wars, to grace him- 
+self at his return into London under the form 
+of a soldier. And such fellows are perfect 
+in the great commanders’ names: and they will 
+learn you by rote where services were done; 
+at such and such a sconce, at such a breach, 
+at such a convoy; who came off bravely, who 
+was shot, who disgraced, what terms the 
+enemy stood on; and this they con perfectly 
+in the phrase of war, which they trick up with 
+new-tuned oaths: and what a beard of the 
+general’s cut and a horrid suit of the camp 
+will do among foaming bottles and ale-washed 
+
+
+foe, 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+
+
+558 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+wits, is wonderful to be thought on. But you 
+must learn to know such slanders of the age, or 
+else you may be marvellously mistook. 
+
+Flu. I tell you what Captain Gower; | do 
+perceive he is not the man that he would gladly 
+make show to the world he is: if I find a hole 
+in his coat, I will tell him my mind. [Drum 
+heard.| Hark you, the king is coming, and | 
+must speak with him from the pridge. 91 
+
+
+Drum and colours. Enter Kinc HENRY, 
+GLoucestTER, and Soldiers. . 
+God pless your majesty! 
+
+K. Hen. How now, Fluellen! camest thou 
+
+from the bridge? 
+
+Flu, Ay, so please your majesty. The Duke 
+of Exeter has very gallantly maintained the 
+pridge: the French is gone off, look you; and 
+there is gallant and most prave passages; 
+marry, th’ athversary was have possession of 
+the pridge; but he is enforced to retire, and 
+the Duke of Exeter is master of the pridge: I 
+can tell your majesty, the duke is a prave 
+man. 101 
+
+K. Hen. What men have you lost, Flu- 
+
+ellen? 
+
+Flu. The perd'tion of th’ athversary hath 
+been very great, reasonable great: marry, for 
+my part, I think the duke hath lost never a 
+man, but one that is like to be executed for 
+robbing a church, one Bardolph, if your 
+majesty know the man: his face is all bu- 
+bukles, and whelks, and knobs, and flames 
+o’ fire: and his lips blows at his nose, and 
+it is like a coal of fire, sometimes plue and 
+sometimes red; but his nose is executed, and 
+his fire ’s out. 
+
+K. Hen. We would have all such offend- 
+ers so cut off: and we give express charge, 
+that in our marches through the country, there 
+be nothing compelled from the villages, noth- 
+ing taken but paid for, none of the French 
+upbraided or abused in disdainful language; 
+for when lenity and cruelty play for a king- 
+dom, the gentler gamester is the soonest win- 
+
+
+ner. 120 
+Tucket. Enter Montjoy. 
+
+
+Mont. You know me by my habit. 
+
+K. Hen. Well then I know thee: what 
+
+shall I know of thee? 
+
+Mont, My master’s mind. 
+
+K. Hen. Unfold it. 
+
+Mont. Thus says my king: Say thou to 
+Harry of Eneland: Though we seemed dead. 
+we did but sleep: advantage is a better sol- 
+dier than rashness. Tell him we could have 
+rebuked him at Harfleur, but that we thought 
+not good to abuse an injury till it were full 
+ripe: now we speak upon our cue, and our 
+
+
+voice is imperial: England shall repent his ” 
+
+
+folly, see his weakness, and admire our suf- 
+ferance. Bid hm therefore consider of his 
+ransom; which must proportion the losses we 
+have borne, the subjects we have lost, the 
+disgrace we have digested; which in weight 
+to re-answer, his pettiness would bow under. 
+For our losses, his exchequer is too poor; 
+for the effusion of our blood, the muster of 
+his kingdom too faint a number; and for our 
+disgrace, his own person, kneeling at our feet, 
+but a weak and worthless satisfaction. To 
+this add defiance: and tell him, for conclusion, 
+he hath betrayed his followers, whose con- 
+demnation is pronounced. So far my king 
+and master; so much my office. 
+K. Hen. What is thy name? 
+quality. 
+Mont. Montjoy. 
+K. Hen. Thou dost thy office fairly. Turn 
+thee back, 
+And tell thy king I do not seek him now; 
+But could be willing to march on to Calais 
+Without impeachment: for, to say the sooth, 
+Though ‘tis no wisdom to confess so much 
+Unto an enemy of craft and vantage, 
+My people are with sickness much enfeebled, 
+My numbers lessen’d, and those few I have : 
+Ajimost no better than so many French; 
+Who when they were in health, I tell thee, 
+herald, 
+I thought upon one pair of English legs 
+Did march three Frenchmen. Yet, forgive 
+me, God, « 159 
+That I do brag thus! This your air of France 
+Hath blown that vice in me; I must repent, 
+Go therefore, tell thy master here I am; 
+My ransom is this frail and worthless trunk, 
+My army but a weak and sickly guard; 
+Yet, God before, tell him we will come on, 
+Though France himself and such another 
+neighbour 
+Stand in our way. There's for thy labour, 
+Montjoy. 
+Go, bid thy master well advise himself: 
+Tf we may pass, we will; if we be hinder’d, 
+We shall your tawny ground with your red 
+blood 170 
+Discolour: and so, Montjoy, fare you well. 
+The sum of all our answer ts but this: 
+We would not seek a battle, as we are; 
+Nor, as we are, we say we will not shun it: 
+So tell your master. 
+
+
+I know thy 
+
+
+Moni. 1 shall deliver so. Thanks to your 
+highness. { Exit. - 
+
+Glou. I hope they will not come upon us 
+now. 
+
+
+K. Hen. We are in God's hand, brother, 
+
+
+not in theirs. 
+
+
+[Act Ill, Sc. VE 
+
+
+} 
+5 
+
+
+any prince in the world. 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+559 
+
+
+I 
+March to the bridge; it now draws toward | composed to my courser, for my horse is my 
+
+
+night: 
+Beyond the river we ‘ll encamp ourselves, 180 
+_ And on to-morrow bid them march away. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+The French camp, near 
+Agincourt. 
+
+
+Enter the ConsTABLE OF FRANCE, the Lorp 
+RamBures, ORLEANS, DAUPHIN, 
+with others. . 
+
+
+Con. Tut! I have the best armour of th 
+world. Would it were day! 
+
+Orl. You have an excellent armour; but 
+let my horse have his due. 
+
+Con. It is the best horse of Europe. 
+
+Orl. Will it never be morning? 
+
+Dau. My Lord of Orleans, and my lord 
+high constable, you talk of horse and armour? 
+
+Orl. You are as well provided of both as 
+10 
+
+Dau. What a long night is this! ‘I will 
+not change my horse with any that treads but 
+on four pasterns. Ca, ha! he bounds from 
+the earth, as if his entrails were hairs; le 
+cheval volant, the Pegasus, chez les nar nes 
+de feu! When | bestride him, I soar, 1 am 
+a hawk: he trots the air; the earth sings when 
+he touches it; the basest horn cf his hoof is 
+more musical than the pipe of Hermes. 
+
+Orl. He’s of the colour of the nutmeg. 20 
+
+Dau. And of the heat of the ginger. It is 
+a beast for Perseus: he is pure air and fre; 
+‘and the dull elements of earth and water 
+never appear in him, but only in patient still- 
+ness while his rider mounts him: he 1s in- 
+deed a horse; and all other jades you may 
+call beasts. 
+
+Con. Indeed, my lord, it is a most abso- 
+
+jute and excellent horse. 
+
+Dau. lt is the prince of palfreys; his 
+neigh is like the bidding of a monarch and his 
+
+countenance enforces homage. 31 
+
+Orl. No more, cousin. 
+
+Dau. Nay, the man hath no wit that can- 
+not, from the rising of the lark to the lodging 
+of the lamb, vary deserved praise on my pal- 
+frey: it is a theme as fluent as the sea: turn 
+the sands into eloquent tongues, and my horse 
+is argument for them all: ‘tis a subject for a 
+sovereign to reason on, and for a sovereign’s 
+sovereign to ride on; and for the world, fa- 
+miliar' ‘to us and unknown, to lay apart their 
+particular, functions and wonder at him. 
+once writ a sonnet in his praise and began 
+
+thus: ‘Wonder of nature, — 
+Orl. I have heard a sonnet begin so to 
+one’s mistress. 
+
+
+Dau. Then did they imitate that which I 
+
+
+Scene VII. 
+
+
+mistress. 
+Orl. Your mistress bears well. 
+Dau. Me well; which is the prescript 
+
+
+praise and perfection of a good and _par- 
+ticular mistress. 
+
+Con. Nay, for methought yesterday your 
+mistress shrewdly shook your back. 
+
+Dau. So perhaps did yours. 
+
+Con. M ne was not bridled, 
+
+Dau. O then belike she was old and gen- 
+tle; and you rode, like a kern of Ireland, your 
+French hose off, and in your strait strossers. 
+
+Con. You have good judgement in horse- 
+manship. 59 
+
+Dau. Be warned by me, then: they that 
+ride so and ride not warily, fall into foul bogs. 
+I had rather have my horse to my mistress. 
+
+Con. I had as lief have my mistress a jade. 
+
+Dau. I tell thee, constable, my mistress 
+wears his own hair. 
+
+Con. I could make as true a boast as that, 
+if I had a sow to my mistress. 
+
+Dau. ‘Le ch’en est retourné & son propre 
+yomissement, et la truie lavée au bourbier:’ 
+thou makest use of any thing. 
+
+Con. Yet do I not use my horse for my 
+mistress, or any such proverb so little kin to 
+the purpose. 
+
+Ram. My lord constable, the armour that 
+I saw in your tent to-night, are those stars 
+or suns upon it? 
+
+
+Con. Stars, my lord. 
+
+Dau. Some of them will fall to-morrow, 
+I hope. ' 
+
+Con. And yet my sky shall not want. 
+
+Dau. That may be, for you bear a many 
+
+
+superfluously, and ‘twere more honour some 
+were away. 81 
+
+Con. Even as your horse bears your 
+praises; who would trot as well, were some 
+of your brags dismounted. 
+
+Dau. Would I were able to load him with 
+his desert! Will it never be day? I will 
+trot to-morrow a mile, and my way shall be 
+paved with Enslish faces. 
+
+Con. I will not say so, for fear I should 
+be faced out of my way: but I would it were 
+morning; for I would fain be about the ears 
+of the English. 
+
+Ram. Who will go to hazard with me for 
+twenty prisoners ? 
+
+Con. You must first go yourself to hazard, 
+ere you have them. 
+
+Dau. ’Tis midnight; I'll go arm myself. 
+
+[ Exit. 
+
+Orl. The Dauphin longs for morning. 
+
+Ram. He longs to eat the English. 
+
+
+Con. I think he will eat all he kills, 100 
+
+
+560 
+
+Orl. By the white hand of my lady, he ’s 
+a gallant pr.nce. : 
+
+Con. Swear by her foot, that she may tread 
+out the oath. 
+
+Orl. He is simply the most active gentle- 
+man of France. 
+
+Con. Doing is activity; and he will still 
+be doing. 
+
+Orl. He never did harm, that I heard of. 
+
+Con. Nor will do none to-morrow: he will 
+keep that good name still. V1 
+
+Orl. I know him to be valiant. 
+
+Con. I was told that by one that knows 
+him better than you. 
+
+Orl. What’s he? 
+
+Con. Marry, he told me so himself; and 
+he said he cared not who knew it. 
+
+Orl. He needs not; it is no hidden virtue 
+in him. 119 
+
+Con. By my faith, sir, but it is; never 
+any body saw it but his lackey: "tis a hooded 
+valour; and when it appears, it will bate. 
+
+Orl. Il will never said well. 
+
+Con. I will cap that proverb with “There 
+is ‘flattery in friendship.’ 
+
+Orl. And I will take up that with ‘Give 
+the devil his due.’ 
+
+Con. Well placed: there stands your friend 
+for the devil: have at the very eye of that 
+proverb with ‘A pox of the devil.’ 130 
+
+Orl. You are the better at proverbs, by 
+how much ‘A fool's bolt is soon shot.’ 
+
+Con. You have shot over. 
+
+Orl. °Tis not the first time you were over- 
+shot. 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+Mess. My lord high constable, the English 
+lie within fifteen hundred paces of your tents. 
+Con. Who hath measured the ground? 
+
+Mess. The Lord Grandpre. 
+
+Con. A valiant and most expert gentle- 
+man. Would it were day! Alas, poor 
+Harry of England! he longs not for the 
+dawning-as we do. 141 
+
+Orl. What a wretched and peevish fellow 
+is this king of England, to mope with his fat- 
+brained followers so far out of his knowledge! 
+
+Con. If the English had any apprehen- 
+sion, they would run away. 
+
+Orl. That they lack; for if their heads 
+had any intellectual armour, they could never 
+wear such heavy head-pieces. 149 
+
+Ram. That island of England breeds very 
+valiant creatures; their mastiffs are of un- 
+matchable courage. 
+
+Orl. Foolish curs, that run winking into 
+the mouth of a Russian bear and have their 
+heads crushed like rotten apples! You may 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Protocue 
+
+
+as well say, that’s a valiant flea that dare eat 
+his breakfast on the lip of a lion. 
+
+Con. Just, just; and the men do sympa- 
+thize with the mastiffs in robustious and rough 
+coming on, leaving their wits with their wives: 
+and then give them great meals of beef and 
+ron and steel, they will eat like wolves and 
+fight like devils. 
+
+Orl. Ay, but these English are shrewdly 
+out of beef. 
+
+Con. Then shall we find to-morrow they 
+have only stomachs to eat and none to fight. 
+Now is it time to arm: come, shall we about 
+it? 
+
+Orl. It is now two o'clock: but, let me 
+
+see, by ten 
+We shall have each a hundred Englishmen. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT HAY: 
+PROLOGUE. 
+Enter Chorus. 
+
+
+Chor. Now entertain conjecture of a time 
+When creeping murmur and the poring dark 
+Fills the wide vessel of the universe. , 
+From camp to camp through the foul womb 
+
+of night 
+The hum of either army stilly sounds, 
+That the fix’d sentinels almost receive 
+The secret whispers of each other's watch: 
+Fire answers fire, and through their paly 
+flames as 
+Each battle sees the other's umber'd face; 
+Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful 
+
+
+neighs 10 
+Piercing the night's dull ear; and from the 
+tents 
+
+
+The armourers, accomplishing the knights, 
+
+With busy hammers closing rivets up, 
+
+G've dreadful note of preparation: 
+
+The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll, 
+
+And the third hour of drowsy morning name. 
+
+Proud of their numbers and secure in soul, 
+
+The confident and over-lusty French 
+
+Do the low-rated English play at dice; 
+
+And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night 20 
+
+Who, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp 
+
+So tediously away. The poor condemned 
+English, 
+
+Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires 
+
+Sit patiently and inly ruminate 
+
+The morning's danger, and their gesture sad 
+
+Investing lank-lean cheeks and war-worn coats 
+
+Presenteth them unto the gazing moon 
+
+So many horrid ghosts. O now, who will 
+behold 
+
+The royal captain of this ruin’d band 
+
+
+! 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. I] 
+
+
+Walking from watch to watch, from tent to 
+tent, 30 
+
+Let him cry “Praise and glory on his head!’ 
+
+'For forth he goes and visits all his host, 
+
+Bids them good morrow with a modest smile 
+
+And calls them brothers, friends and country- 
+men. 
+
+Upon his royal face there is no note 
+
+How dread an army hath enrounded him; 
+
+Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour 
+
+Unto the weary and all-watched night, 
+
+But freshly looks and over-bears attaint 
+
+With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty ; 
+
+That every wretch, pining and pale before, 41 
+
+Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks: 
+
+A largess universal like the sun 
+
+His liberal eye doth g've to every one, 
+
+Thawing cold fear, that mean and gentle all 
+
+Behold, as may unworthiness define, 
+
+A little touch of Harry in the night. 
+
+“And so our scene must to the battle fly; 
+
+Where—O for pity!—we shall much disgrace 
+
+With four or five most vile and ragged foils, 
+
+Right ill-disposed in brawl ridiculous, 
+
+The name of Agincourt. Yet sit and see, 
+
+Minding true things by what their mockeries 
+be. [ Exit. 
+
+
+Scene I. The English camp at Agincourt. 
+
+
+Enter Kinc Henry, Beprorp, ard 
+GLOUCESTER. 
+
+
+K. Hen. Gloucester, “tis true that we are 
+
+in great danger; 
+
+The greater therefore should our courage be. 
+
+Good morrow, brother Bedford. God Al- 
+mighty! 
+
+There is some soul of goodness in things evil, 
+
+Would men observingly distil it out. 
+
+For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers, 
+
+Which is both healthful and good husbandry: 
+
+Besides, they are our outward consciences, 
+
+And preachers to us all, admonishing 
+
+That we should dress us fairly for our end, 
+
+Thus may we gather honey from the weed, 
+
+
+And make a moral of the dev:l himself. 
+Enter ERPINGHAM. 
+
+
+Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpigham: 
+A good soft pillow for that good white head 
+Were better than a churlish turf of France. 
+Erp. Not so, my liege: this lodging likes 
+me better, 
+Since I may say ‘Now lie I like a king.’ 
+K. Hen. ."Tis good for men to love their 
+present pains 
+Upon example; so the spirit is eased: 
+And when the mind is quicken'd, out of doubt, 
+The organs, though defunct and dead before, 
+Break up their drowsy grave and newly move, 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+561 
+
+
+‘!I and my bosom must debate a while, 
+
+
+With casted slough and fresh legerity. 
+
+Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas. Brothers 
+both, 
+
+Commend me to the princes in our camp; 
+
+Do my good morrow to them, and anon 
+
+Desire them all to my pav_lion. 
+
+Glou. We shall, my liege. 
+
+Erp. Shall I attend your grace? 
+
+K. Hen. No, my good knight; 
+Go with my brothers to my lords of England: 
+31 
+And then I would no other company. 
+
+Erp. The Lord in heaven bless thee, no- 
+
+ble Harry! [Exeunt all but King. 
+
+K. Hen. God-a-mercy, old heart! thou 
+
+speak’st cheerfully. 
+Enter Pistou. 
+
+Pist. Qui va la? 
+
+K. Hen. A friend. 
+
+Pist. Discuss unto me; art thou officer? 
+Or art thou base, common and popular? 
+
+K. Hen. I am a gentleman of a company. 
+
+Pist. rail’st thou the puissant pike? 40 
+
+K. Hen. Even so. What are you? 
+
+Pist. As good a gentleman as the emperor. 
+
+K. Hen. Then you are a better than the 
+
+king. 
+
+Pist. The king’s a bawcock, and a heart 
+
+of gold, 
+A lad of life, an imp of flame; 
+Of parents good, of fist most valiant: 
+I kiss his dirty shoe, and from heart-string 
+I love the lovely bully. What is thy name? 
+K. Hen. Harry le Roy. 
+Pist. Le Roy! a Cornish name: art thou 
+
+
+of Cornish crew >? 50 
+K. Hen. No, I am a Welshman. 
+Pist. Know’st thou Fluellen? 
+K. Hen. Yes. 
+Pist. Tell him, I'll knock his leek about 
+his pate 
+
+
+Upon Saint Davy's day. 
+
+K. Hen. Do not you wear your dagger 
+in your cap that day, lest he knock that about 
+yours. 
+
+Pist. Art thou his friend? 
+
+K. Hen. And his kinsman too. 
+
+Pist. The figo for thee, then! 60 
+
+K. Hen. I thank you: God be with you! 
+
+Pist. My name is Pistol call’d. [Exit. 
+
+
+K. Hen, It sorts well with your fierceness, 
+Enter FLUELLEN and Gower. 
+
+
+Gow. Captain Fluellen! 
+
+Flu. So! in the name of Jesu Christ, speak 
+lower. It is the greatest admiration in the 
+universal world, when the true and aunchient 
+prerogatifes and laws of the wars is not kept: 
+if you would take the pains but to examine 
+
+
+562 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+[Acr 1V,)Saa4 
+
+
+the wars of Pompey the Great, you shall find, 
+I warrant you, that there is no tiddle taddle 
+nor pibble pabble in Pompey’s camp; I war- 
+rant you, you shall find the ceremonies of 
+the wars, and the cares of it, and the forms 
+of it, and the sobriety of it, and the modesty 
+of it, to be otherwise. 
+
+Gow. Why, the enemy is loud; you hear 
+him all night. 
+
+Flu, If the enemy is an ass and a fool and 
+a prating coxcomb, is it meet, think you, that 
+we should also, look you, be an ass and a 
+fool and a prating coxcomb? in your own 
+conscience, now > 
+
+Gow. | will speak lower. 
+
+Flu. 1 pray you and beseech you that you 
+will. [Exeunt Gower and Fluellen. 
+
+K. Hen. Though it appear a little out of 
+
+fashion, 
+There is much care and valour in this Welsh- 
+man. 
+
+
+Enter three soldiers, JouN Bates, ALEXAN- 
+DER CourT, and MicuHaeEL WILLIAMS. 
+
+
+Court. Brother John Bates, is not that the 
+morning which breaks yonder? 
+
+Bates. 1 think it be: but we have no great 
+cause ta desire the approach of day. 90 
+
+Will. We see yonder the beginn ng of the 
+day, but I think we shall never see the end of 
+it. Who goes there? 
+
+K. Hen. A friend. 
+
+Will. Under what captain serve you? 
+
+K. Hen. Under Sir Thomas Erpingham. 
+
+Will. A good old commander and a most 
+kind gentleman: I pray you, what thinks he 
+of our estate > 
+
+K. Hen. Even as men wrecked upon a sand, 
+that look to be washed off the next tide. 101] 
+
+Bates, He hath not told his thought to the 
+king? 
+
+RK. Hen. No; nor it is not meet he should. 
+For, though speak it to you, I think the king 
+is but a-man, as I am: the violet smells to him 
+as it doth to me; the element shows to him as 
+it doth to me; all his senses have but human 
+conditions: his ceremonies laid by, in his 
+nakedness he appears but a man; and though 
+his affections are higher mounted than ours, 
+yet, when they stoop, they stoop with the like 
+wing. Therefore when he sees reason of fears, 
+as we do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the 
+same relish as ours are: yet, in reason, no 
+man should possess him with any appearance 
+of fear, lest he, by showing it, should dis- 
+hearten his army. 
+
+Bates. He may show what outward courage 
+he will; but I believe, as cold a night as ‘tis, 
+
+
+he could wish himself in Thames up to the 
+neck; and so I would he were, and I by him, 
+at all adventures, so we were quit 
+
+
+here. 
+
+
+K. Hen. By my troth, I will speak my 
+
+
+conscience of the king: 1 think he would not 
+wish himself any where but where he is. 
+
+
+Bates. Then I would he were here alone; 
+
+
+so should he be sure to be ransomed, and a 
+many poor men’s lives saved. 
+
+K. Hen. 1 dare say you love him not so 
+ill, to wish him here alone, howsoever you 
+speak this to feel other men’s minds: methinks 
+
+
+I could not die any where so contented as in 
+the king’s company; his cause being just 
+
+
+and his quarrel honourable. 
+
+
+Will. That’s more than we know. 
+
+Bates. Ay, or more than we should seek 
+after; for we know enough, if we know we 
+are the king's subjects: if his cause be wrong, 
+our obedience to the king wipes the crime of 
+it out of us. 
+
+Will. Butif the cause be not good, the king 
+himself hath a heavy reckoning to make, when 
+all those legs and arms and heads, chopped off 
+in a battle, shall join together at the latter day 
+and cry all ‘We died at such a place;” some 
+
+
+swearing, some crying for a surgeon, some_ 
+
+
+upon their wives left poor behind them, some 
+upon the debts they owe, some upon their chil- 
+dren rawly left. I am afeard there are few 
+die well that die in a battle; for how can they 
+charitably dispose of any thing, when blood 
+is their argument? Now, if these men do no\ 
+die well, it will be a black matter for the king 
+
+
+that led them to it; whom to disobey were 
+
+
+against all proportion of subjection, 
+
+K. Hen. So, if a son that is by his father 
+sent about merchandise do sinfully miscarry 
+upon the sea, the imputation of his wickedness, 
+by your rule, should be imposed upon his 
+father that sent him: or if a servant, under 
+his master’s command transporting a sum of 
+money, be assa'led by robbers and die in many 
+irreconciled iniquities, you may call the busi- 
+ness of the master the author of the servant's 
+damnation: but this is not so: the king is not 
+bound to answer the particular endings of his 
+soldiers, the father of his son, nor the master 
+of his servant; for they purpose not their 
+death, when they purpose their services. Be- 
+sides, there is no king, be his cause never so 
+spotless, if it come to the arbitrement of 
+swords, can try it out with all unspotted sol- 
+diers: some peradventure have on them the 
+gu lt of premeditated and contrived murder; 
+some, of beguiling virgins with the broken 
+seals of perjury; some, making the wars their 
+bulwark, that have before gored the gentle 
+
+
+bosom of peace with pillage and robbery. Now, 
+
+
+eee ee 
+
+
+Aer dV, Seed] 
+
+
+we 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+563 
+
+
+if these men have defeated the law and outrun 
+
+
+native punishment, though they can outstrip 
+men, they have no wings to fly from God: war 
+is his beadle, war is his vengeance; so that 
+here men are punished for before-breach of 
+the king’s laws in now the king’s quarrel: 
+where they feared the death, they have borne 
+life away; and where they would be safe, they 
+perish: then if they die unprovided, no more 
+is the king guilty of their damnation than he 
+was before guilty of those impieties for the 
+which they are now visited. Every subject's 
+uty is the king’s; but every subject’s soul 
+is his own. Therefore should every soldier in 
+the wars do as every sick man in his bed, wash 
+every mote out of his conscience; and dying 
+so, death is to him advantage; or not dying, 
+the time was blessedly lost wherein such prepa- 
+ration was gained: and in him that escapes, 
+it were not sin to think that, making God so 
+free an offer, He let him outlive that day to 
+see His greatness and to teach others how 
+they should prepare. 
+
+Will. “Tis certain, every man that dies ill, 
+the ill upon his own head, the king is not 
+td answer it. 199 
+
+Bates. 1 do not desire he should answer 
+for me; and yet I determine to fight lustily 
+for him. 
+
+K. Hen. 1 myself heard the king say he 
+would not be ransomed. 
+
+Will. Ay, he said so, to make us fight 
+cheerfully: but when our throats are cut, he 
+may be ransomed, and we ne’er the wiser. 
+
+K. Hen. If I live to see it, I will never 
+trust his word after. 
+
+Will. You pay him then. That’s a peril- 
+ous shot out of an elder-gun, that a poor and 
+a private displeasure can do against a mon- 
+arch! you may as well go about to turn the 
+sun to ice with fanning in his face with a pea- 
+cock’s feather. You'll never trust his word 
+after! come, ‘tis a fool’sh saying. 
+
+K. Hen. Your reproof is something too 
+round: I should be angry with you, if the 
+time were convenient. 
+
+Will. Let it be a quarrel between us, if 
+you live. 220 
+
+K. Hen. 1 embrace it. 
+
+Will. How shall I know thee again? 
+
+K. Hen. Give me any gage of thine, and 
+J will wear it in my bonnet: then, if ever 
+thou’ darest acknowledge it, I will make it 
+my quarrel. 
+
+Will. Here’s my glove: give me another 
+of thine, 
+
+K. Hen. There. 
+
+Will. This will I also wear in my cap: if 
+ever thou come to me and say, after to-mor- 
+
+
+row, ‘This is my glove,’ by this hand, I wiil 
+take thee a box on the ear. 
+K. Hen. If ever I live to see it, I will 
+challenge it. 
+Will. Thou darest as well be hanged. 
+K. Hen. Well, 1 will do it, though I take 
+thee in the king’s company. 
+Will. Keep thy word: fare thee well. 
+Bates. Be friends, you English fools, be 
+friends: we have French quarrels enow, if 
+you could tell how to reckon. 241 
+K. Hen. Indeed, the French may lay twenty 
+French crowns to one, they will beat us; for 
+they bear them on their shoulders: but it 
+is no English treason to cut French crowns, 
+and to-morrow the king himself will be a 
+clipper. [Exeunt Soldiers. 
+Upon the king! let us our lives, our souls, 
+Our debts, our careful wives, 
+Our children and our sins lay on the king! 
+We must bear all. O hard condition, 250 
+Twin-born with greatness, subject to the breath 
+Of every fool, whose sense no more can feel 
+But his own wringing! What infinite heart’s- 
+ease 
+Must kings neglect, that private men enjoy! 
+And what have kings, that privates have not 
+too, 
+Save ceremony, save general ceremony ? 
+And what art thou, thou idol ceremony ? 
+What kind of god art thou, that suffer’st more 
+Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers? 
+What are thy rents? what are thy comings in? 
+O ceremony, show me but thy worth! 263 
+What is thy soul of adoration? 
+Axt thou aught- else but place, degree and 
+form, 
+Creating awe and fear in other men? 
+Wherein thou art less happy being fear’d 
+Than they in fearing. 
+What drink’st thou oft, instead of homage 
+sweet, 
+But poison’d flattery? 
+greatness, 
+And bid thy ceremony give thee cure! 
+Think’st thou the fiery fever will go out 270 
+With titles blown from adulation? 
+Will it give place to flexure and low bending? 
+Canst thou, when thos command’st the beg- 
+gar'’s knee, 
+Command the health of it? 
+dream, 
+That play’st so subtly with a king's repose; 
+I am a king that find thee, and I know 
+Tis not the balm, the sceptre and the ball, 
+The sword, the mace, the crown imperial, 
+The intertissued robe of gold and pearl, 
+The farced title running “fore the king, 280 
+The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp 
+
+
+O, be sick, great 
+
+
+No, thou proud 
+
+
+564 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Se. I 
+
+
+That beats upon the high shore of this world, 
+No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony, 
+Not all these, laid in bed majestical, 
+Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave, 
+Who with a body fill’d and vacant mind 
+Gets him to rest, cramm’d with distressful 
+bread; 
+Never sees horrid night, the child of hell, 
+But, like a lackey, from the rise to set 
+Swears in the eye of Phcebus and all night 
+Sleeps in Elysium; next day after dawn 
+Doth rise and help Hyperion to his horse, 
+And follows so the ever-running year, 
+With profitable labour, to his grave: 
+And, but for ceremony, such a wretch, 
+Winding up days with toil and nights with 
+sleep, 
+Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king. 
+The slave, a member of the country’s peace, 
+Enjoys it; but in gross brain little wots 
+What watch the king keeps to maintain the 
+peace, 300 
+Whose hours the peasant best advantages. 
+
+
+Re-enter ERPINGHAM. 
+Erp. My lord, your nobles, jealous of your 
+
+
+absence, 
+Seek through your camp to find you. 
+K. Hen. Good old knight, 
+
+
+Collect them all together at my tent: 
+I'll be before thee. © 
+Erp. I shall do't, my lord. [Exit. 
+K. Hen. O God of battles! steel my sol- 
+diers’ hearts; 
+Possess them not with fear; take from them 
+now 
+
+
+The sense of reckoning, if the opposed num- 
+bers 
+
+Pluck their hearts from them. Not to-day, 
+O Lord, 
+
+
+O, not to-day, think not upon the fault 310 
+My father made in compassing the crown! 
+I Richard’s body have interred new; 
+And on it have bestow'd more contrite tears 
+Than from. it issued forced drops of blood: 
+Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay, 
+Who twice a-day their wither'd hands hold up 
+Toward heaven, to pardon blood; and I have 
+built 
+Two chantries, where the sad and solemn 
+priests 
+Sing still for Richard’s soul. More will I do; 
+Though all that I can dois nothing worth, 320 
+Since that my penitence comes after all, 
+Imploring pardon. 
+Re-enter GLOUCESTER. 
+Glou. My liege! 
+K. Hen. My brother Gloucester’s voice? 
+Ay: 
+
+
+I know thy errand, I will go with thee: 
+
+
+The day, my friends and all things stay for 
+
+
+me. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene Il. The French camp. 
+
+
+Enter the DAUPHIN, ORLEANS, RAMBURES, 
+and others. 
+
+
+Orl. The sun doth gild our armour; up, 
+my lords! 
+
+
+laquais! ha! 
+Orl. O brave spirit! 
+Dau. Via! les eaux et la terre. 
+Orl. Rien puis? l'air et le feu. 
+Dau. Ciel, cousin Orleans. 
+
+
+Enter CONSTABLE. 
+
+
+Now, my lord constable! 
+Con. Hark, how our steeds for present 
+service neigh! 
+Dau. Mount them, and make incision in 
+their hides, 
+That their hot blood may spin in English eyes, 
+And dout them with superfluous courage, ha! 
+Ram. What, will you have them weep our 
+horses’ blood > 
+How shall we, then, behold their natural tears > 
+
+
+Enter Messenger. 
+
+
+Mess. The English are embattled, you 
+French peers. 
+Con. To horse, you gallant princes! straight 
+
+to horse! 
+
+Do but behold yen poor and starved band, 
+
+And your fair show shall suck away their souls, 
+
+Leaving them but the shales and husks of men. 
+
+There is not work enough for all our hands; 
+
+Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins 
+
+To give each naked curtle-axe a stain, 
+
+That our French gallants shall to-day draw 
+out, 
+
+And sheathe for lack of sport: let us but 
+blow on them, 
+
+The vapour of our valour will o’erturn them. 
+
+‘Tis positive ‘gainst all exceptions, lords, 
+
+That our superfluous lackeys and our peasants, 
+
+Who in unnecessary action swarm 
+
+About our squares of battle, were enow 
+
+To purge this field of such a hilding foe, 
+
+Though we upon this mouttain’s basis by 30 
+
+Took stand for idle speculation: 
+
+But that our honours must not. What's to 
+say > 
+
+A very little little let us do, 
+
+And all is done. Then let the trumpets sound 
+
+The tucket sonance and the note to mount; 
+
+For our approach shall so much dare the field 
+
+That England shall couch down in fear and 
+yield. 
+
+
+Dau. Montez a cheval! My horse! varlet! 
+
+
+~ Ne a ae > 
+et 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. I] 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+565 
+
+
+Enter GRANDPRE. 
+
+
+Grand. Why do you stay so long, my 
+lords of France? 
+Yon island carrions, desperate of their bones, 
+Ull-favouredly become the morning field: 40 
+Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose, 
+And our air shakes them passing scornfully: 
+Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd 
+host 
+And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps: 
+The horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks, ’ 
+With torch-staves in their hand; and their poor 
+
+
+jades 
+
+Lob down their heads, dropping the hides and 
+hips, 
+
+The gum down-roping from their pale-dead 
+eyes, 
+
+
+And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal bit 
+Lies foul with chew’d grass, still and mo- 
+tionless; 
+And their executors, the knavish crows, 
+Fly o'er them, all impatient for their hour. 
+Description cannot suit itself in words 
+To demonstrate the life of such a battle 
+In life so lifeless as it shows itself. 
+Con. They have said their prayers, and 
+they stay for death. 
+Dau. Shall we go send them dinners and 
+fresh suits 
+And give their fasting horses provender, 
+And after fight with them? 
+Con. I stay but for my guidon: to the 
+field! 
+I will the banner from a trumpet take, 61 
+And use it for my haste. Come, come, away! 
+The sun is high, and we outwear the day. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. The English camp. 
+
+
+Enter GLoucesTEeR, BepForD, EXETER, ER- 
+PINGHAM, with all his host: SALisBURY 
+and WESTMORELAND. 
+
+
+Glou. Where is the king? 
+Bed. The king himself is rode to view 
+their battle. 
+West. Of fighting men they have full three 
+score thousand. 
+Exe. There’s five to one; besides, they all 
+are fresh. 
+Sal. God's arm strike with us! ‘tis a fear- 
+ful odds. 
+God: be wi’ you, princes all; 
+charge: 
+If we no more meet till we meet in heaven, 
+Then, joyfully, my noble Lord of Bedford, 
+My dear Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord 
+Exeter, ‘ 
+And my kind kinsman,-warriors all, adieu! 
+
+
+I'll to my 
+
+
+0 | If we are mark'd to die, we are enow 
+
+
+Bed. Farewell, good Salisbury; and good 
+luck go wiih thee! 
+Exe. Farewell, kind lord; fight valiantly 
+to-day: 
+And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it. 
+For thou art framed of the firm truth of 
+valour. [Exit Salisbury. 
+Bed. He is as full of valour as of kind- 
+ness ; 
+Princely in both. 
+
+
+Enter the Kine. 
+West. O that we now had here 
+
+
+But one ten thousand of those men in England 
+That do no work to-day! 
+
+
+K. Hen. What's he that wishes so? 
+My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair 
+cousin: 
+
+
+20 
+
+To do our country loss; and if to live, 
+
+The fewer men, the greater share of honour. 
+
+God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man 
+more. 
+
+By Jove, I am not covetous for gold, 
+
+Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost; 
+
+It yearns me not if men my garments wear; 
+
+Such outward things dwell not in my desires: 
+
+But if it be a sin to covet honour, 
+
+] am the most offending soul alive. 
+
+No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from 
+England: 30 
+
+God's peace! I would not lose so great an 
+honour 
+
+As one man more, methinks, would share 
+from me 
+
+For the best hope I have. 
+one more! 
+
+Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through 
+my host, 
+
+That he which hath no stomach to this fight, 
+
+Let him depart; his passport shall be made 
+
+And crowns for convoy put into his purse: 
+
+We would not die in that man’s company. 
+
+That fears his fellowsh’p to die with us. 
+
+This day is call'’d the feast of Crispian: 40 
+
+He that outlives this day, and comes safe 
+home, 
+
+Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named, 
+
+And rouse him at the name of Crispian. 
+
+He that shall live this day, and see old age, 
+
+Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours, 
+
+And say “To-morrow is Saint Crispian:’ 
+
+Then will he strip his sleeve and show his 
+scars, 
+
+And say “These wounds I had on Crispin’s 
+day.” ; 
+
+Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot, 
+
+But he ‘ll remember with advantages 
+
+
+O, do not wish 
+
+
+50 
+
+
+566 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+nn ne capeammthcnniedane tala 
+
+
+What feats he did that day: then shall our 
+names, 
+
+Familiar in his mouth as household words, 
+
+Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter, 
+
+Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Glou- 
+cester, 
+
+Be in their flowing cups freshly remember’d, 
+
+This story shall the good man teach his son; 
+
+And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by, 
+
+From this day to the ending of the world, 
+
+But we in it shall be remembered; 
+
+We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; 
+
+For he to-day that sheds his blood with me 61 
+
+Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile, 
+
+This day shall gentle his condition: 
+
+And gentlemen in England now a-bed 
+
+Shall think themselves accursed they were-not 
+here, 
+
+And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any 
+speaks 
+
+That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day. 
+
+
+Re-enter SALISBURY. 
+
+
+Sal. My sovereign lord, bestow yourself 
+with speed: 
+The French are bravely in their battles set, 
+And will wth all expedience charge on us. 
+K, Hen. All things are ready, if our minds 
+be so. 
+West. Perish the man whose mind is back- 
+ward now! , 
+K. Hen. Thou dost not wish more help 
+from England, coz? 
+West. God's will! my liege, would you 
+and | alone, 
+Without more help, could fight this royal 
+battle! 
+K. Hen. Why, now thou hast unwish'd 
+five thousand men; 
+Which likes me better than to wish us one. 
+You know your places: God be with you all! 
+
+
+Tucket. Enter Montjoy. 
+
+
+Mont. Once more | come to know of thee, 
+King Harry, 
+If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound, 80 
+Before thy most assured overthrow: 
+For certainly thou art so near the gulf, 
+Thou needs must be englutted. Besides, in 
+mercy, 
+The constable desires thee thou wilt mind 
+Thy followers of repentance; that their souls 
+May make a peaceful and a sweet retire 
+From off these fields, where, wretches, their 
+poor bodies 
+Must lie and fester. 
+K. Hen. Who hath sent thee now? 
+Mont. The Constable of France. 
+K. Hen. 1 pray thee, bear my former 
+answer back: 90 
+
+
+Bid them achieve me and then sell my bones. 
+
+Good God! why should they mock poor fel- 
+lows thus? 
+
+The man that once did sell the lion’s skin, 
+
+While the beast lived, was killed with hunt- 
+ing him. 
+
+A many of our bodies shall no doubt 
+
+Find native graves; upon the which, I trust, 
+
+Shall witness live in brass of this day’s work: 
+
+And those that leave their valiant bones in 
+France, 
+
+Dying aire men, though buried in your dung- 
+hills, 
+
+They shall be famed; for there the sun shall 
+greet them, 100 
+
+And draw their honours reeking up to heaven; 
+
+Leaving their earthly parts to choke your 
+clime, 
+
+The smell whereof shall breed a plague im 
+France. 
+
+Mark then abounding valour in our English, 
+
+That being dead, like to the bullet's grazing, 
+
+Break out into a second course of mischief, 
+
+Killing in relapse of mortality. 
+
+Let me speak proudly: tell the constable 
+
+We are but warriors for the working-day; 
+
+Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirch'd 
+
+With rainy marching in the painful field; 111 
+
+There ’s not a piece of feather in our host— 
+
+Good argument, I hope, we will not fly— 
+
+And time hath worn us into sloyenry: 
+
+But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim; 
+
+And my poor soldiers tell me, yet ere night 
+
+They ‘ll be in fresher robes, or they will pluck 
+
+The gay new co&ts o'er the French soldiers’ 
+heads 
+
+And turn them out of service. 
+then 
+
+As, if God please, they shall,—my ransom 
+
+
+If they do 
+
+
+then 
+Will soon be levied. Herald, save thou thy 
+labour; 121 
+Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald: 
+They shall have none, I swear, but these my 
+joints; 
+Which if they have as I will leave “em them, 
+Shall yield them little, tell the constable. 
+Mont. I shall, King Harry. And so fare 
+thee well: 
+Thou never shalt hear herald any more. 
+[Exit. 
+K. Hen. | fear thou'lt once more come 
+again for ransom. 
+
+
+Enter York. 
+
+
+York. My lord, most humbly on my knee 
+I beg 
+
+
+The leading of the vaward. 130 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc IH. 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. V] - 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+567 
+
+
+K. Hen. Take it, brave York. Now, sol- 
+diers, march away: 
+And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day! 
+
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. The field of battle. 
+
+
+Excursions. Enter Pistot, French 
+Soldier, and Boy. 
+
+
+Pist.. Yield, cur! 
+
+Fr. Sol. Je pense que vous étes gentilhomme 
+de bonne qualité. 
+
+Pist. Qualtitie calmie custure me! Art 
+thou a gentleman? what is thy name? discuss, 
+
+Fr. Sol. O Seigneur Dieu! 
+
+Pist. O, Signieur Dew should be a gen- 
+
+tleman: 
+
+Perpend my words, O Signieur Dew, and 
+
+mark; 
+
+O Signieur Dew, thou d’est on point of fox, 
+_-Except, O Signieur, thou do give to me 10 
+-Egregious ransom. 
+
+Fr. Sol. O, prenez m'séricorde! ayez pitie 
+de moi! 
+
+Pist. Moy shall not serve; I will have 
+
+t forty moys; 
+
+Or I will fetch thy rim out at thy throat 
+
+In drops of crimson blood. 
+
+Fr. Sol. Est-il impossible d’échapper la 
+force de ton bras? 
+
+Pist. Brass, cur! 
+
+Thou damned and luxurious mountain goat, 
+
+Offer’st me. brass ? 
+
+Fr. Sol. O pardonnez moi! 
+
+Pist. Say’st thou me so? is that a ton of 
+
+moys? 
+
+ome hither, boy: ask me this slave in French 
+
+What is his name. 
+
+Boy. Ecoutez: comment étes-vous appelé? 
+
+Fr. Sol. Monsieur le Fer. 
+
+Boy. He says his name is Master Fer. 
+
+Pist. Master Fer! Ill fer him, and firk 
+him, and ferret him: discuss the same in 
+French unto him. 31 
+
+Boy. I do not know the French for fer, 
+and ferret, and. firk.’ 
+
+_Pist. Bid him prepare; for I will cut his 
+
+throat. 
+
+Fr. Sol. Que dit-il, monsieur ? 
+
+Boy. Il me commande de vous dire que 
+vous faites vous prét; car ce soldat ici est 
+disposé tout & cette heure de couper votre 
+gorge." 
+
+Pist. Owy, cuppele gorge, permafoy, 
+Peasant, unless thou give me crowns, brave 
+
+crowns; 40 
+
+Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword. 
+
+Fr. Sol. O, je vous supplie, pour l’amour 
+de Dieu, me pardonner! Je suis gentilhomme 
+
+
+Alarum. 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+de bonne maison: gardez ma vie, et je vous 
+donnerai deux cents écus. 
+
+Pist, What are his words? 
+
+Boy. He prays you to save h’s life: he is 
+a gentleman, of a good house; and for his 
+ransom he will give you two hundred crowns. 
+
+Pist. Tell him my fury shall abate, and I 
+The crowns will take. 
+
+Fr. Sol. Petit monsieur, que dit-il? 
+
+Boy. Encore qu'il est contre son jurement 
+de pardonner aucun prisonnier, néanmoins, 
+pour les écus que vous l’avez promis, il est 
+content de vous donner la liberté, le fran- 
+ch sement. 
+
+Fr. Sol. Sur mes genoux je vous donne 
+mille remercimens; et je m’estime heureux que 
+je suis tombé entre les mains d’un chevalier, 
+je pense, le plus brave, vaillant, et trés dis- 
+tingue se gneur d’Angleterre. 61 
+
+Pist. Expound unto me, boy. 
+
+Boy. He gives you. upon his knees, a 
+thousand thanks; and he esteems himself 
+happy that he hath fallen into the hands of 
+one, as he thinks, the most brave, valorous, 
+and thrice-worthy sgnieur of England. 
+
+Pist. As I suck blood, I will some mercy 
+
+show. 
+Follow me! 69 
+
+Boy. Suivez-vous le grand capitaine. [Ex- 
+eunt Pistol, and French Soldier.) 1 did 
+never know so full. a voice issue from so 
+empty a heart: but the saying is true, “The 
+empty vessel makes the greatest sound.” Bar- 
+dolph and Nym had ten times more valour 
+than this roaring devil i’ the old play, that 
+every one may pare hs nails with a wooden 
+dagger; and they are both hanged; and so 
+would this be, if he durst steal any thing 
+adventurously. 1 must stay with the lackeys, 
+with the luggage of our camp: the French 
+might have a good prey of us, if he knew of it; 
+for there is none to guard it but boys. [Exit. 
+
+
+Scene V. Another part of the field. 
+
+
+Enter CoNsTABLE, ORLEANS, BouRBON, 
+DaupPHIN, and RAMBURES. 
+
+
+Con. O diable! 
+Orl. O seigneur! le jour est perdu, tout 
+est perdu! 
+Dau. Mort de ma vie! all is confounded, 
+all! 
+Reproach and everlasting shame 
+
+
+Sits mocking in our plumes. O mechante 
+
+
+fortune! 
+Do not run away. [A short alarum. 
+Con. Why, all our ranks are broke. 
+
+
+Dau. O perdurable shame! let's stab our- 
+selves. 
+
+
+568 
+Be these the wretches that we play’d at dice 
+for? 
+Orl. Is this the king we sent to for his 
+ransom ? 
+Bour. Shame and eternal shame, nothing 
+but shame! 
+
+
+Let us die in honour: once more back again; 
+And he that will not follow Bourbon now, 
+Let him go hence, and with his cap in hand, 
+Like a base pandar, hold the chamber-door 
+Whilst by a slave, no gentler than my dog, 
+His fa‘rest daughter is contaminated. 
+
+Con. Disorder, that hath spoil’d us, friend 
+
+us now! 
+
+Let us on heaps go offer up our lives. 
+
+Orl. We are enow yet living in the field 
+To smother up the English in our throngs, 20 
+If any order might be thought upon. 
+
+Bour. The devil take order now! 
+
+the throng: 
+Let life be short; else shame will be too long. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene VI. Another part of the field. 
+
+
+Enter Kinc Henry and forces, 
+EXETER, and others. 
+K. Hen. Well have we done, thrice val- 
+iant countrymen: 
+But all’s not done; yet keep the French the 
+field. 
+Exe. The Duke of York commends him to 
+
+
+your majesty. 
+
+
+I'll to 
+
+
+Alarums. 
+
+
+K. Hen. Lives he, good uncle? thrice 
+within this hour 
+I saw him down; thrice up again, and 
+
+
+fighting ; 
+
+From helmet to the spur all blood he was. 
+
+Exe. In which array, brave soldier, doth 
+
+he lie, 
+
+Larding the plain; and by his bloody side, 
+Yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds, 
+The noble Earl of Suffolk also lies. 10 
+Suffolk first died: and York, all haggled over, 
+Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteep’d, 
+And takes him by the beard; kisses the gashes 
+That bloodily did yawn upon his face; 
+And cries aloud ‘Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk! 
+My soul shall thine keep company to heaven; 
+Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly abreast, 
+As in this glorious and well-foughten field 
+We kept together in our chivalry!” 19 
+Upon these words I came and cheer’d him up: 
+He smiled me in the face, raught me his hand, 
+And, with a feeble gripe, says ‘Dear my lord, 
+Commend my service to my sovereign.’ 
+So did he turn and over Suffolk’s neck 
+He threw his wounded arm and kiss’d his lips; 
+And so espoused to death, with blood he seal’d 
+
+
+A testament of noble-ending love. 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc. VII 
+
+
+The pretty and sweet manner of it forced 
+
+Those waters from me which I would have 
+stopp’d; 
+
+But I had not so much of man in me, 
+
+And all my mother came into mine eyes 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+0| And gave me up to tears. 
+
+
+K. Hen. I blame you not; 
+For, hearing this, I must perforce compound 
+With mistful eyes, or they will issue too. 
+
+[Alarum. 
+But, hark! what new alarum is this same? 
+The French have reinforced their scatter'd 
+men: 
+Then every soldier kill his prisoners: 
+Give the word through. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene VII. Another part of the field. 
+Enter FLUELLEN and Gower. 
+
+
+Flu. Kill the poys and the luggage! "tis ex- 
+pressly against the law of arms: ‘tis as arrant 
+a piece of knavery, mark you now, as can be 
+offer’t; in your conscience, now, is it not? 
+
+Gow. "T's certain there’s not a boy left 
+alive; and the cowardly rascals that ran from 
+the battle ha’ done this slaughter: besides, 
+they have burned and carried away all that 
+was in the king’s tent; wherefore the king, 
+most worthily, hath caused every soldier to 
+cut his prisoner's throat. O, ‘tis a gallant 
+king! 1 
+
+Flu. Ay, he was porn at Monmouth, Cap- 
+tain Gower. What call you the town’s name 
+where Alexander the Pig was born? 
+
+Gow. Alexander the Great. 
+
+Flu. Why, I pray you, is not pig great? 
+the pig, or the great, or the mghty, or the 
+huge, or the magnanimous, are all one reck- 
+onings, save the phrase is a little variations. 19 
+
+Gow. I think Alexander the Great was 
+born in Macedon: his father was called Philip 
+of Macedon, as I take it. 
+
+Flu. 1 think it is in Macedon where Alex- 
+ander is porn. I tell you, captain, if you look 
+in the maps of the ‘orld, I warrant you sall 
+find, in the comparisons between Macedon 
+and Monmouth, that the situations, look you, 
+is both alike. There is a river in Macedon; 
+and there is also moreover a river at Mon- 
+mouth: it is called Wye at Monmouth; but 
+it is out of my prains what is the name of 
+the other river; but ‘tis all one, ‘tis alike as 
+my fingers is to my fingers, and there is 
+salmons in both. If you mark Alexander's 
+life well, Harry of Monmouth’s life is come 
+after it indifferent well; for there ts figures in 
+all things. Alexander, God knows, and you 
+know, in his rages, and his furies, and his 
+wraths, and his cholers, and his moods, and 
+his displeasures, and his indignations, and 
+
+
+~ Alarum. 
+
+
+Acriv, sc: Vil] = 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+569 
+
+
+also being a [ttle intoxicates in his prains, did, 
+in his ales and his angers, look you, kill his 
+best friend, Cleitus. 4| 
+
+Gow. Our king is not like him in that: he 
+never killed any of his friends. 
+
+Flu. It is not well done, mark you now, to 
+take the tales out of my mouth, ere it is made 
+and finished. I speak but in the figures and 
+comparisons of it: as Alexander killed his 
+friend Cleitus, being in his ales and his cups; 
+so also Harry Monmouth, being in his right 
+wits and his good judgements, turned away 
+the fat knight with the great-belly doublet: he 
+was full of jests, and gipes, and knaveries, 
+and mocks; I have forgot his name. 
+
+Gow. Sir John Falstaff. 
+
+Flu. That is he: I'll tell you there is good 
+men porn at Monmouth. 
+
+Gow. Here comes his majesty. 
+
+
+Enter Kinc Henry, and forces; 
+Warwick, GLoucESTER, EXETER, 
+and others. 
+
+
+K. Hen. 1 was not angry since I came to 
+France 
+
+Until this instant. Take a trumpet, herald; 
+Ride thou unto the horsemen on yon hill: 60 
+If they will fight with us, bid them come down, 
+Or void the field; they do offend our sight: 
+If they "ll do neither, we will come to them, 
+And make them skirr away, as swift as stones 
+Enforced from the old Assyrian slings: 
+
+
+- Besides, we ‘Il cut the throats of those we have, 
+
+
+And not a man of them that we shall take 
+Shall taste our mercy. Go and tell them so. 
+
+
+Enter Montjoy. 
+
+
+Exe. Here comes the herald of the French, 
+my liege. 
+
+“ Glo. His eyes are humbler than they used 
+
+to be. 70 
+
+
+K. Hen. How now! what means this, 
+herald? know’st thou not 
+
+
+That I have fined these bones of mine for 
+
+
+ransom > 
+Comest thou again for ransom? 
+Mont. No, great king: 
+
+
+I come to thee for charitable license, 
+
+That we may wander o’er this bloody field 
+To look our dead, and then to bury them; 
+To sort our nobles from our common men. 
+For many of our princes—woe the while!— 
+Lie drown'd and soak'd in mercenary blood; 
+So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs 
+In blood of princes; and their wounded steeds 
+Fret fetlock deep in gore and with wild rage 
+Yerk out their armed heels et their dead 
+
+masters, 
+
+
+Killing them twice. 
+king, 
+
+To view the field in safety and dispose 
+
+Of their dead bodies! 
+
+K. Hen. I tell thee truly, herald, 
+
+I know not if the day be ours or no; 
+For yet a many of your horsemen peer 
+And gallop o’er the field. 
+Mont. The day is yours. 
+K., Hen. Praised be God, and not our 
+strength, for it! 90 
+What is this castle call’d that stands hard by? 
+Mont. They call it Agincourt, 
+K. Hen. Then call we this the field of 
+Agincourt, 
+Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus. 
+
+Flu. Your grandfather of famous memory, 
+an't please your majesty, and your great- 
+uncle Edward the Plack Prince of Wales, as 
+I have read in the chronicles, fought a most 
+prave pattle here in France. 
+
+K. Hen. They did, Fluellen. 106 
+
+Flu. Your majesty says very true: if your 
+majesties is remembered of it, the Welshmen 
+did good service in a garden where leeks did 
+grow, wearing leeks in their Monmouth caps; 
+which, your majesty know, to this hour is an 
+honourable badge of the service; and I do 
+believe your majesty takes no scorn to wear 
+the leek upon Saint Tavy’s day. 
+
+K. Hen. I wear it for a memorable hon- 
+
+our; 
+For I am Welsh, you know, good countryman. 
+
+Flu. All the water in Wye cannot wash 
+your majesty’s Welsh plood out of your pody, 
+I can tell you that: God pless it and preserve 
+it, as long as it pleases his grace, and his 
+majesty too! 
+
+K. Hen. Thanks, good my countryman. 
+
+Flu. By Jeshu, I am your majesty’s coun- 
+tryman, I care not who know it; I will confess 
+it to all the ‘orld: I need not to be ashamed of 
+your majesty, praised be God, so long as your 
+majesty is an honest man. 
+
+K. Hen. God keep me so! 
+
+go with him: 
+Bring me just notice of the numbers dead 
+On both our parts. Call yonder fellow hither. 
+[Points to Williams. Exeunt Heralds 
+with Montjoy. 
+
+Exe. Soldier, you must come to the king. 
+
+K. Hen. Soldier, why wearest thou that 
+glove in thy cap? 
+
+Will. Ant please your majesty, ‘tis the 
+gage of one that I should fight withal, if he 
+be alive. 
+
+K. Hen. An Englishman? 129 
+
+Will. An’t please your majesty, a rascal 
+
+
+O, give us leave, great 
+
+
+Our heralds 
+
+
+‘that swaggered with me last night; who, if 
+
+
+570 
+
+
+alive and ever dare to challenge this glove, 
+I] have sworn to take him a box o’ th’ ear: or 
+if I can see my glove in his cap, which he 
+swore, as he was a soldier, he would wear if 
+alive, I will strike it out soundly. 
+
+K. Hen. What think you, Captain Fleul- 
+len? is it fit this soldier keep his oath? 
+
+Flu. He is a craven and a villain else, 
+an't please your majesty, in my conscience. 
+
+K. Hen. It may be his enemy is a gentle- 
+man of great sort, quite from the answer of 
+his degree. 
+
+Flu. Though he be as good a gentleman as 
+the devil is, as Lucifer and Belzebub himself, 
+it is necessary, look your grace, that he keep 
+his vow and his oath: if he be perjured, see 
+you now, his reputation is as arrant a villain 
+and a Jacksauce, as ever his black shoe trod 
+upon God’s ground and his earth, in my con- 
+science, la! 150 
+
+K. Hen. Then keep thy vow, sirrah, when 
+thou meetest the fellow. 
+
+Will. So 1 will, my liege, as I live. 
+
+K. Hen. Who servest thou under ? 
+
+Will. Under Captain Gower, my liege. 
+
+Flu, Gower is a good captain, and is good 
+knowledge and literatured in the wars. 
+
+K. Hen. Call him hither to me, soldier. 
+
+Will. 1 will, my lige. [Exit. 
+
+K. Hen. Here, Fluellen, wear thou this 
+favour for me and stick it in thy cap: when 
+Alencon and myself were down together, | 
+plucked this glove from his helm: if any man 
+challenge this, he is a friend of Alencon, and 
+an enemy to our person; if thou encounter 
+any such, apprehend him, and thou dost me 
+love. 
+
+Flu. Your grace doo’s me as great honours 
+as can be desired in the hearts of his subjects: 
+I would fain see the man, that has but two 
+legs, that shall find himself aggriefed at this 
+glove; that is all; but I would fain see it 
+once, an please God of his grace that | 
+might see. 
+
+K. Hen: Knowest thou Gower > 
+
+Flu. He is my dear friend, an please you. 
+
+
+K. Hen. Pray thee, go seek him, and 
+
+
+bring him to my tent. 
+Flu. 1 will fetch him. [ Exit. 
+K. Hen. My lord of Warwick, and my 
+brother Gloucester, 
+Follow Fluellen closely at the heels: 
+The glove which I have given him for a favour 
+May haply purchase him a box o’ th’ ear; 181 
+It is the soldier’s; I by bargain should 
+Wear it myself. Follow, good cousin War- 
+wick: 
+If that the soldier str’ke him, as I judge 
+By his blunt bearing he will keep his word, 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+Peg es ewe RE 
+
+
+Some sudden mischief may arise of it; 
+
+For I do know Fluellen valiant 
+
+And, touch’d with choler, hot as gunpowder, 
+
+And quickly will return an injury: 
+
+Follow, and see. there be no harm between 
+them. 
+
+Go you with me, uncle of Exeter. [Exeuni. 
+
+Scene VIII. Before Kina Henry's 
+
+pavilion. 
+
+
+Enter Gower and WILLIAMS. 
+Will. 1 warrant it is to knight you, captain, 
+Enter FLUELLEN. 
+
+
+Flu. God's will and his pleasure, captain, I 
+beseech you now, come apace to the king: 
+there is more good toward you peradyenture 
+than is in your knowledge to dream of. 
+
+Will. Sir, know you this glove? 
+
+Flu. Know the glove! I know the glove 
+is a glove. 
+
+Will. 1 know this; and thus I challenge it. 
+
+[Strikes him. 
+
+Fla. ‘Sblood! an arrant traitor as any is 
+in the universal world, or in France, or in 
+England! im 
+
+Gow. How now, sir! you villain! 
+
+Will. Do you think I'll be forsworn? 
+
+Flu. Stand away, Captain Gower; I will 
+give treason his payment into plows, I war- 
+rant you. 
+
+Will. 1 am no trattor. 
+
+Flu. That's a lie in thy throat. I charge 
+you in h’s majesty’s name, apprehend him: 
+
+
+he’s a friend of the Duke Alencon’s. 19 
+Enter Warwick and GLOUCESTER 
+
+
+War. How now, how now! what’s the 
+matter ? 
+
+Flu. My Lord of Warwick, here is—praised 
+be God- for it!—a most contagious treason 
+come to I ght, look you, as you shall desire 
+in a summer's day. Here is his majesty. 
+
+
+Enter Kinc Henry and Exeter. 
+
+
+K. Hen. How now! what’s the matter? 
+
+Flu. My liege, here is a villain and a 
+traitor, that, look your grace, has struck the 
+glove which your majesty is take out of the 
+helmet of Alencon. 
+
+Will. My liege, this was my glove; here 
+is the fellow of it; and he that I gave it to 
+in change promised to wear it in his cap: I 
+promised. to strike him, if he did: I met this 
+man with my glove in his cap, and I have 
+been as good as my word. 
+
+Flu. Your majesty hear now, saving your 
+majesty’s manhod, what an arrant, rascally 
+
+
+[Act {V, Sc. Vi ~ | 
+
+
+~has mettle enough ‘n his belly. 
+
+
+beggarly, lousy knave it is: I hope your maj- 
+esty is pear me testimony and witness, and 
+will avouchment, that this is the glove of 
+Alengon, that your majesty is give me; in 
+your conscience, now. 
+
+K. Hen. Give me thy glove, soldier: look, 
+here is the fellow of it. 
+
+’Twas I, indeed, thou promised’st to strike; 
+And thou hast given me most bitter terms. 
+
+Flu, And please your majesty, let his neck 
+answer for it, if there is any martial law in 
+the world. 
+
+K. Hen. How canst thou make me satis- 
+faction > 
+
+Will. All offences, my lord, come from 
+the heart: never came any from mine that 
+might offend your majesty. 
+
+K. Hen. It was ourself thou didst abuse. 
+
+Will. Your majesty came not like your- 
+self; you appeared to me but as a common 
+man; witness the night, your garments, your 
+lowliness; and what your highness suffered 
+under that shape, I beseech you take it for 
+your own fault and not mine: for had you 
+been as I took you for, I made no offence; 
+therefore, I beseech your highness, pardon 
+me. 69 
+
+K. Hen. Here, uncle Exeter, fill this glove 
+
+with crowns, 
+And give it to this fellow. Keep it, fellow; 
+And wear it for an honour in thy cap 
+Till I do challenge it. Give him the crowns: 
+And, captain, you must needs be friends 
+with him. 
+
+Flu. By this day and this light, the fellow 
+Hold, there 
+is twelve pence for you; and I pray you 
+to serve God, and keep you out of prawls, 
+and prabbles, and quarrels, and dissensions, 
+and, I warrant you, it is the better for you. 71 
+
+Will. 1 will none of your money. 
+
+Flu. It is with a good will; I can tell you, 
+it will serve you to mend your shoes: come, 
+wherefore should you be so pashful? your 
+shoes is not so good: ‘tis a good silling, I war- 
+rant you, or I will change it. 
+
+
+Enter an English Herald. 
+
+
+K. Hen. Now, herald, are the dead num- 
+ber’d? 
+Her. Here is the number of the slaugh- 
+ter’'d French. 
+K. Hen. What prisoners of good sort are 
+taken, uncle? 80 
+Exe. Charles Duke of Orleans, nephew to 
+the king; 
+John Duke of Bourbon, and Lord Bouciqualt: 
+Of other lords and barons, knights and squires, 
+Full fifteen hundred, besides common men. 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 571 
+
+
+K. Hen. This note doth tell me of ten 
+thousand French 
+That in the field lie slain: of princes, in this 
+number, 
+
+
+0 | And nobles bearing banners, there lie dead 
+
+
+One hundred twenty six: added to these, 
+Of knights, esquires, and gallant gentlemen, 
+Eight thousand and four hundred; of the 
+
+
+which, 90 
+Five hundred were but yesterday dubb’d 
+knights: 
+
+
+So that, in these ten thousand they have lost, 
+
+There are but sixteen hundred mercenaries; 
+
+The rest are princes, barons, lords, knights, 
+squires, 
+
+And gentlemen of blood and quality. 
+
+The names of those their nobles that lie dead: 
+
+Charles Delabreth, high constable of France; 
+
+Jacques of Chat llon, admiral of France; 
+
+The master of the cross-bows, Lord Rambures; 
+
+Great Master of France, the brave Sir Gui- 
+
+
+chard Dolphin, 100 
+John Duke of Alencon, Anthony Duke of 
+Brabant, 
+
+
+The brother to the Duke of Burgundy, 
+And Edward Duke of Bar: of lusty earls, 
+Grandpré and Roussi, Fauconberg and Foix, 
+Beaumont and Marle, Vaudemont and Les- 
+trale. 
+Here was a royal fellowship of death! 
+Where is the number of our English dead? 
+[Herald shews him another paper. 
+Edward the Duke of York, the Earl of 
+Suffolk, 
+Sir Richard Ketly, Davy Gam, esquire: 
+None else of name; and of all other men 110 
+But five and twenty. O God, thy arm was 
+here; 
+And not to us, but to thy arm alone, 
+Ascribe we all! When, without stratagem, 
+But in plain shock and even play of batile, 
+Was ever known so great and little loss 
+On one part and on the other? Take it, God, 
+For it is none but thine! 
+Exe. ’Tis wonderful! 
+K. Hen. Come, go we in procession to the 
+village: 
+And be it death proclaimed through our host 
+To boast of this or take that praise from God 
+Which is his only. 121 
+Flu. Is it not lawful, an please your maj- 
+esty, to tell how many is killed? 
+K. Hen. Yes, captain; but with this ac- 
+knowledgement, 
+That God fought for us. 
+Flu. Yes, my conscience, he did us great 
+good, 
+K. Hen. Do we all holy rites; 
+Let there be sung ‘Non nobis’ and “Te Deum:' 
+
+
+572 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+[Acr V, Sc. I 
+
+
+The dead with charity enclosed in clay: 
+
+And then to Calais; and to England then: 
+
+Where ne'er from France arrived more happy 
+men. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+INCIW AWA 
+PROLOGUE. 
+Enter Chorus. 
+
+
+Chor. Vouchsafe to those that have not 
+read the story, 
+That I may prompt them: and of such as have, 
+I humbly pray them to admit the excuse 
+Of time, of numbers and due course of things, 
+Which cannot in their huge and proper | fe 
+Be here presented. Now we bear the king 
+Toward Calais: grant him there; there seen, 
+Heave him away upon your winged thoughts 
+Athwart the sea. Behold, the English beach 
+Pales in the flood with men, with wives and 
+boys, 
+Whose shouts and claps out-vo:ce the deep- 
+mouth'd sea, 
+Which like a mighty whiffler ‘fore the king 
+Seems to prepare his way: so let him land, 
+And solemnly see him set on to London. 
+So swift a pace hath thought that even now 
+You may imagine him upon Blackheath; 
+Where that his lords desire him to have borne 
+His bruised helmet and h’s bended sword 
+Before him through the city: he forbids it, 19 
+Being free from vainness and self-glorious 
+pride; 
+Giving full trophy, signal and ostent 
+Quite from himself to God. But now behold, 
+In the quick forge and working-house of 
+* thought, 
+How London doth pour out her citizens! 
+The mayor and all his brethren in best sort, 
+Like to the senators of the antique Rome, 
+With the plebeians swarming at their heels, 
+Go forth and fetch their conquering Cesar in: 
+As by a lower but loving likelihood, 29 
+Were now the general of our gracious empress, 
+As in good time, he may, from Ireland coming, 
+Bringing rebellion broached on his sword, 
+How many would the peaceful city quit, 
+To welcome him! much more, and much 
+more cause, 
+Did they this Harry. 
+him; 
+As yet the lamentation of the French 
+Invites the King of England's stay at home; 
+The emperor's coming in behalf of France, 
+To order peace between them; and omit 
+All the occurrences, whatever chanced. 40 
+Till Harry’s back-return again to France: 
+There must we bring him; and myself have 
+play'd 
+
+
+Now in London place 
+
+
+The interim, by remembering you ‘tis past. 
+Then brook abridgement, and your eyes ad- 
+
+
+vance, 
+After your thoughts, straight back again to 
+France. [ Exit. 
+Scene I. France. The English camp. 
+
+
+Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER. 
+
+
+Gow. Nay, that’s right; but why wear you 
+your leek to-day? Saint Davy’s day is past. 
+
+Flu. There is occasions and causes why 
+and wherefore in all things: I will tell you, 
+asse my friend, Captain Gower: the rascally, 
+scauld, beggarly, lousy, pragging knave, Pistol, 
+which you and yourself and all the world 
+know to be no petter than a fellow, look you 
+now, of no merits, he is come to me and 
+prints me pread and salt yesterday, look you, 
+and bid me eat my leek: it was in a place 
+
+
+0|where I could not breed no contention with 
+
+
+him; but I will be so bold as to wear it in 
+my cap till I see him once again, and then I 
+will tell him a little piece of my desires. 
+
+
+Enter PisTou. 
+
+
+Gow. Why, here he comes, swelling like a 
+turkey-cock. 
+
+Flu. "Tis no matter for his swellings nor 
+his turkey-cocks. God pless you, Aunchient 
+Pistol! you scurvy, lousy knave, God pless 
+you! 
+
+Pist. Ha! art thou bedlam? dost 
+
+thirst, base Trojan. 
+To have me fold up Parca’s fatal web? 
+Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek. 
+
+Flu. 1 peseech you heartily, scurvy, lousy 
+knave, at my desires, and my requests, and 
+my petitions, to eat, look you, this leek: be- 
+cause, look you, you do not love it, nor your 
+affections and your appetites and your diges- 
+tions doo’s not agree with it, I would desire 
+you to eat it. 
+
+Pist. Not for Cadwallader and all his goats. 
+
+Flu. There is one goat for you. [Strikes 
+him.] Will you be so good, scauld knave, 
+as eat it? 31 
+
+Pist. Base Trojan, thou shalt die. 
+
+Flu. You say very true, scauld knave, 
+when God’s will is: I will des‘re you to live 
+in the mean time, and eat your victuals: come, 
+there is sauce for it. [Strikes him.] ~You 
+called me yesterday mountain-squire; but 
+I will make you to-day a squire of low de- 
+gree. I pray you, fall to: if you can mock 
+a leek, you can eat a leek. 
+
+Gow. Enough, captain: you have aston- 
+ished him. 
+
+
+thou 
+
+
+Ld) | 
+
+
+oe 
+
+
+Acr V, Sc. I] 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+573 
+
+
+Flu. 1 say, 1 will make him eat some part 
+of my leek, or I will peat his pate four days. 
+Bite, I pray you; it is good for your green 
+wound and your ploody coxcomb. 
+
+Pist. Must I bite? 
+
+Flu. Yes, certainly, and out of doubt and 
+out of question too, and ambiguities. 
+
+Pist. By th’s leek, I will most horribly re- 
+venge: I eat and eat, I swear— 50 
+
+Flu. Eat, I pray you: will you have some 
+more sauce to your leek? there is not enough 
+leek to swear by. 
+
+Pist. Quiet thy cudgel; thou dost see I eat. 
+
+Flu. Much good do you, scauld knave, 
+heartily. Nay, pray you, throw none away; 
+the skin is good for your broken coxcomb. 
+When you take occasions to see leeks here- 
+after, I pray you, mock at ‘em; that is all.” 
+
+Pist. Good. 60 
+
+Flu. Ay, leeks is good: hold you, there is 
+a groat to heal your pate. 
+
+Pist. Me a groat! 
+
+Flu. Yes, verily and in truth, you shall 
+take it; or 1 have another leek in my pocket, 
+which you shall eat. 
+
+Pist, I take thy groat in earnest of revenge. 
+
+Flu. If 1 owe you any thing, | will pay 
+you in cudgels: you shall be a woodmonger, 
+and buy nothing of me but cudgels. God b’ 
+wi’ you, and keep you, and heal your pate. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+
+Pist. All hell shall stir for this. 
+
+Gow. Go, go; you are a counterfeit cow- 
+ardly knave. W.Il you mock at an ancient 
+tradition, begun upon an honourable respect, 
+and worn as a memorable trophy of prede- 
+ceased valour and dare not avouch in your 
+deeds any of your words? I have seen you 
+gleeking and galling at this gentleman twice 
+or thrice. You thought, because he could not 
+speak English in the native garb, he could not 
+therefore handle an English cudgel: you find 
+it otherwise; and henceforth let a Welsh 
+correction teach you a good English condition. 
+Fare ye well. [Exit 
+
+Pist. Doth Fortune play the huswife with 
+
+me now? 
+News have I, that my Nell is dead i’ the 
+spital 
+Of malady of France; 
+And there my rendezvous is quite cut off. 
+Old I do wax; and from my weary limbs 
+Honour is cudgelled. Well, bawd I'll turn, 
+And something lean to cutpurse of quick hand. 
+To England will I steal, and there I ‘Il steal: 
+And patches will I get unto these cudgell’d 
+scars, 
+And swear I got them in the Gallia wars. 
+[Exit. 
+
+
+Scene II. France. A royal palace. 
+
+Enter, at one door, Kinc Henry, EXETER, 
+Beprorp, GLOUCESTER, WARWICK, WEsT- 
+MORELAND, and other Lords; at another, 
+the FrencH Kinc, QUEEN ISABEL, the 
+Princess KATHARINE, ALICE and_ other 
+Ladies; the DUKE oF BurcuNnpy, and his 
+train. 
+
+
+K. Hen. Peace to this meeting, wherefore 
+we are met! 
+Unto our brother France, and to our sister, 
+Health and fair time of day; joy and good 
+wishes 
+To our most fair and princely cousin Katha- 
+rine; 
+And, as a branch and member of this royalty, 
+By whom this great assembly is contrived, 
+We do salute you, Duke of Burgundy; 
+And, princes French, and peers, health to you 
+all! 
+Fr. King. Right joyous are we to behold 
+your face, 
+Most worthy brother England; fairly met: 10 
+So are you, princes English, every one. 
+Q. Isa. So happy be the issue, brother 
+England, 
+Of this good day and of this gracious meeting, 
+As we are now glad to behold your eyes; 
+Your eyes, which hitherto have borne in them 
+Against the French, that met them in their 
+bent, 
+The fatal balls of murdering basilisks: 
+The venom of such looks, we fairly hope, 
+Have lost their quality, and that this day 
+Shall change all griefs and quarrels into love. 
+K. Hen. To cry amen to that, thus we 
+
+
+appear. 
+
+Q. Isa. You English princes all, I do sa- 
+lute you. 
+
+Bur. My duty to you both, on equal love, 
+
+
+Great Kings of France and England! That 
+I have labour’d, 
+
+With all my wits, my pains and strong en- 
+deavours, 
+
+To bring your most imperial majesties 
+
+Unto this bar and royal interview, 
+
+Your mightiness on both parts best can wit- 
+Ness. 
+
+Since then my office hath so far prevail’d 
+
+That, face to face and royal eye to eye, 30 
+
+You have congreeted, let it not disgrace me, 
+
+lf I demand, before this royal view, 
+
+What rub or what impediment there is, 
+
+Why that the naked, poor and mangled Peace, 
+
+Dear nurse of arts, plenties and joyful births, 
+
+Should not in this best garden of the world 
+
+Our fertile France, put up her lovely visage? 
+
+
+574 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+SO ete 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. I 
+
+
+Alas, she hath from France too long been 
+chased, 
+And all her husbandry doth lie on heaps, 
+Corrupting in it own fertility. 
+Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart, 
+Unpruned dies; her hedges even-pleach’d, 
+Like prisoners wildly over-grown with hair, 
+Put forth disorder’d twigs; her fallow leas 
+The darnel, hemlock and rank fumitory 
+Doth root upon, while that the coulter rusts 
+That should deracinate such savagery; 
+The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth 
+The freckled cowslip, burnet and green clover, 
+Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank, 50 
+Conceives by idleness and nothing teems 
+But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, 
+burs, 
+Losing both beauty and utlity. 
+And as our vineyards, fallows, 
+hedges, 
+Defective in their natures, grow to wildness, 
+Even so our houses and ourselves and children 
+Have lost, or do not learn for want of time, 
+The sciences that should become our country; 
+But grow like savages,—as soldiers will 
+‘That nothing do but meditate on blood,— 60 
+To swear ng and stern looks, defused attire 
+And every thing that seems unnatural. 
+Which to reduce into our former favour 
+You are assembled: and my speech entreats 
+That I may know the let, why gentle Peace 
+Should not expel these inconveniences 
+And bless us with her former qualities. 
+K. Hen. If, Duke of Burgundy, you would 
+the peace, 
+Whose want gives growth to the imperfections 
+Which you have cited, you must buy that 
+peace / 7 
+With full accord to all our just demands; 
+Whose tenours and particular effects 
+You have enscheduled briefly in your hands. 
+Bur. The kng hath heard them; to the 
+which as yet 
+There is no answer made. 
+K. Hen. Well then the peace, 
+Which you before so urged, lies in his answer. 
+Fr. King. I have but with a cursorary eye 
+O’erglanced the articles: pleaseth your grace 
+To appoint some of your council presently 
+To sit with us once more, with better heed 80 
+To re-survey them, we will suddenly 
+Pass our accept and peremptory answer. 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+meads and 
+
+
+K. Hen. Brother, we shall. Go, uncle 
+Exeter, 
+
+And brother Clarence, and you, brother Glou- 
+cester, 
+
+
+Warwick and Huntingdon, go with the king; 
+And take with you free power to ratify, 
+Augment, or alter, as your wisdoms best 
+
+
+Shall see advantageable for our dignity, 
+Any thing in or out of our demands, 
+And we'll consign thereto. Will you, fair 
+sister, 90 
+Go with the princes, or stay here with us? 
+Q.Isa. Our gracious brother, I will go with 
+them: 
+Haply a woman's voice may do some good, 
+When articles too nicely urged be stood on. 
+
+K. Hen. Yet leave our cousin Katharine 
+
+here with us: 
+
+She is our capital demand, comprised 
+Within the fore-rank of our articles. 
+
+Q.Isa. She hath good leave. 
+
+[Exeunt all except Henry, Katharine, 
+and Alice. 
+
+K. Hen. Fair Katharine, and most fair, 
+W Il you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms 
+Such as will enter to a lady's ear 100 
+And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart? 
+
+Kath. Your majesty shall mock at me; I 
+cannot speak your England. 
+
+K. Hen. O fair Katharine, if you will love 
+me soundly with your French heart, I will be 
+glad to hear you confess it brokenly with your 
+English tongue. Do you like me, Kate? 
+
+Kath. Pardonnez- -moi, I cannot tell vat is 
+‘like me.’ 
+
+K.Hen. An angel is like you, Kate, and 
+you are lke an angel. WW 
+
+Kath. Que dit-il? que je suis semblable & 
+les anges? 
+
+Alice. Oui, 
+ainsi dit-il. 
+
+K. Hen. I sata so, dear Katharine; and I 
+must not blush to affirm it. 
+
+
+Kath. O bon Dieu! 
+
+
+Mer ay sauf votre grace, 
+
+
+les langages des 
+
+
+0 | hommes sont pleines de tromperies. 
+
+
+K. Hen. What says she, fair one? that the 
+tongues of men are full of deceits? 121 
+
+Alice. Qui, dat de tongues of de mans is 
+be full of deceits: dat is de princess. 
+
+K.Hen. The princess is the better Eng- 
+lishwoman. I’ faith, Kate, my wooing is fit 
+for thy understanding: I am glad thou canst 
+speak no better English; for, if thou couldst, 
+thou wouldst find me such a plain king that 
+thou wouldst think I had sold my farm to buy 
+my crown. I know no ways to mince it in 
+love, but dérectly to say ‘I love you:’ then if 
+you urge me farther than to say ‘do you in 
+faith!’ I wear out my suit. Give me your 
+answer; 1’ faith, do: and so clap hands and 
+a bargain: how say you, lady? 
+
+pal Sauf votre honneur, me understand 
+vell. 
+
+K. Hen. Marry, if you would put me to 
+verses or to dance for your sake, Kate, why 
+you undid me: for the one, | have neither 
+
+
+4 
+«* 
+’ 
+
+
+3. 
+
+
+or 
+Act V, Sc. I] 
+
+
+Peete!) ‘is 
+tax Soeanie 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+573 
+
+
+words nor measure, and for the other, I have 
+no strength in measure, yet a reasonable meas- 
+ure in strength. If I could win a lady at leap- 
+frog, or by vaulting into my saddle with my 
+armour on my back, under the correction of 
+bragging be it spoken, I should quickly leap 
+into a wife. Of if I might buffet for my love, 
+or bound my horse for her favours, I could 
+lay on like a butcher and sit like a jack-an- 
+apes, never off. But, before God, Kate, I can- 
+not look greenly nor gasp out my eloquence, 
+nor I have no cunning in protestation; only 
+
+
+downright oaths, which I never use till urged, 
+
+
+nor never break for urging. If thou canst 
+love a fellow of this temper, Kate, whose face 
+is not worth sunburn ng, that never looks in 
+his glass for love of any thing he sees there, 
+let thine eye be thy cook. I speak to thee plain 
+soldier: if thou canst love me for this, take 
+me; if not, to say to thee that I shall die, is 
+true; but for thy love, by the Lord, no; yet 
+I love thee too. And while thou livest, dear 
+Kate, take a fellow of plain and uncoined 
+constancy; for he perforce must do thee right, 
+because he hath not the gift to woo in other 
+places: for these fellows of infinite tongue, 
+that can rhyme themselves into ladies’ favours, 
+they do always reason themselves out again. 
+What! a speaker is but a prater; a rhyme is 
+but a ballad. A good leg will fall; a straight 
+back will stoop; a black beard will turn 
+white; a curled pate w_ll grow bald; a fair face 
+will wither; a full eye will wax hollow: but a 
+good heart, Kate, is the sun and the moon; or 
+rather the sun and not the moon; for it shines 
+bright and never changes, but keeps his course 
+truly. If thou would have such a one, take 
+me; and take me, take a soldier; take a sol- 
+dier, take a king And what sayest thou then 
+to my love? speak, my fair, and fairly, | 
+pray thee. 
+
+Kath. Is it possible dat I sould love de 
+enemy of France? 179 
+
+K. Hen. No; it is not possible you should 
+love the enemy of France, Kate: but, in lov- 
+ing me, you should love the friend of France; 
+for I love France so well that I will not part 
+with a village of it; I wll have it all mine: 
+and, Kate, when France is mine and | am 
+yours, then yours is France and you are mine. 
+
+Kath. I cannot tell vat is dat. 
+
+K. Hen. No, Kate? I will tell thee in 
+French; which I am sure will hang’upon my 
+tongue like a new-married wife about her hus- 
+band's neck, hardly to be shook off. Je quand 
+sur le possesson de France, et quand vous 
+avez possession de moi,—let me see, what 
+then? Saint Denis be my speed,—donc votre 
+est France et vous étes mienne. is is as easy 
+
+
+for me, Kate, to conquer the kingdom as ta 
+speak so much more French: I shall never 
+move thee in French, unless it be to laugh at 
+me. 
+
+Kath. Sauf votre honneur, le Francois que 
+vous parlez, il est meilleur que l'Anglois 
+lequel je parle. 201 
+
+K. Hen. No, faith, ist not, Kate: but thy 
+speaking of my tongue, and I thine, most 
+truly-falsely, must needs be granted to be 
+much at one. But, Kate, dost thou understand 
+thus much Engl sh, canst thou love me? 
+
+Kath. J cannot tell. 
+
+K.Heu. Can any of your neighbours tell, 
+Kate? I'll ask them. Come, I know thou 
+lovest me: and at night, when you come into 
+your closet, you'll question this gentlewoman 
+about me; and I know, Kate, you will to her 
+dispraise those parts in me that you love with 
+your heart: but, good Kate, mock me merci- 
+fully; the rather, gentle princess, because | 
+love thee cruelly. If ever thou beest mine, 
+Kate, as | have a saving faith withn me tells 
+me thou shalt, I get thee with scambling, and 
+thou must therefore needs prove a good soldier- 
+breeder: shall not thou and I, between Saint 
+Denis and Saint George, compound a boy, 
+half French, half English, that shall go to 
+Constantinople and take the Turk by the 
+beard? shall we not? what sayest thou, my 
+fair flower-de-luce? 
+
+Kath. I do not know dat. 
+
+K.Hen. No; ‘tis hereafter to know, but 
+now to promise: do but now promise, Kate, 
+you will endeavour for your French part of 
+such a boy; and for my English moiety take 
+the word of a king and a bachelor. How an- 
+swer you, la plus belle Katharine du monde, 
+mon trés cher et devin déesse ? 
+
+Kath. Your majestee ave fausse French 
+enough to deceive de most sage demoiselle dat 
+is en France. 
+
+K. Hen. Now, fie upon my false French! 
+By mine honour, in true English, I love thee, 
+Kate: by which honour | dare not swear thou 
+lovest me; yet my blood begins to flatter me 
+that thou dost, notwithstanding the poor and 
+untempering effect of my visage. Now, be- 
+shrew my father’s ambition! he was thinking 
+of civil wars when he got me: therefore was | 
+created with a stubborn outside, with an aspect 
+of iron, that, when I come to woo ladies, [ 
+fright them. But, in faith, Kate, the elder I 
+wax, the better I shall appear: my comfort is, 
+that old age, that ill layer up of beauty, cam 
+do no more spoil upon my face: thou hast me, 
+if thou hast me, at the worst; and thou shalt 
+wear me, if thou wear me, better and better: 
+and therefore tell me, most fair Katharme- 
+
+
+576 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+[Acr V, Sc. 1 
+
+
+will you have me? Put off your maiden 
+blushes; avouch the thoughts of your heart 
+with the looks of an empress; take me by the 
+hand, and say ‘Harry of England, I am 
+thine:’ which words thou shalt no sooner 
+bless mine ear withal, but I will tell thee 
+aloud ‘England is thine, Ireland is thine, 
+France is thine, and Henry Plantagenet is 
+thine;’ who, though I speak it before his face, 
+if he be not fellow with the best king, thou 
+shalt find the best king of good fellows. Come, 
+your answer in broken music; for thy voice is 
+music and thy English broken; therefore, 
+queen of all, Katharine, break thy mind to 
+me in broken English; wilt thou have me? 
+
+Kath. Dat is as it sall please de roi mon 
+pére. 
+
+K.Hen, Nay, it will please him well, 
+Kate; it shall please him, Kate. 
+
+Kath. Den it sall also content me. 270 
+
+K.Hen. Upon that I kiss your hand, and 
+I call you my queen. 
+
+Kath. Laissez, mon seigneur, laissez, laissez: 
+ma foi, je ne veux point que vous abaissiez 
+votre grandeur en baisant la ma.n d'une de 
+votre siegneurie indigne serviteur; excusez- 
+moi, je vous supplie, mon trés-puissant seig- 
+neur. 
+
+K.Hen. Then I will kiss your lips, Kate. 
+
+Kath. Les dames et demoiselles pour étre 
+baisees devant leur noces, il n'est pas la 
+coutume de France. 281 
+
+K.Hen. Madam my interpreter, what says 
+she > 
+
+Alice. Dat it is not be de fashion pour les 
+ladies of France,—I cannot tell vat is baiser 
+en Anglish. 
+
+K. Hen. To kiss. 
+
+Alice. Your majesty entendre bettre que 
+mot. 
+
+K.Hen. It is not a fashion for the maids 
+in France to kiss before they are married, 
+would she say? 
+
+Alice. Oui, vraiment. 
+
+K.Hen..O Kate, nice customs curtsy to 
+great kings. Dear Kate, you and I cannot be 
+confined within the weak list of a country’s 
+fashion: we are the makers of manners, Kate; 
+and the liberty that follows our places stops 
+the mouth of all find- faults; as I will do 
+yours, for upholding the nice fashion of your 
+country in denying me a kiss: therefore, pa- 
+tiently and yielding. [Kissing her.] You 
+have witchcraft in your lips, Kate: there is 
+more eloquence in a sugar touch of them than 
+in the tongues of the French council; and they 
+should sooner persuade Harry Gi England 
+than a general petition of monarchs. Here 
+comes your father. 
+
+
+Re-enter the FRENCH KiNG and his QUEEN, 
+Burcunpy, and other Lords, 
+
+
+Bur. God save your majesty! my royal 
+cousin, teach you our princess English? 
+
+K.Hen. 1 would have her learn, my fair 
+cousin, how perfectly I love her; and that is 
+good English. 
+
+Bur. Is she not apt? 
+
+K.Hen, Our tongue is rough, coz, and my 
+condition is not smooth; so that, having 
+neither the voice nor the heart of flattery 
+about me, I cannot so conjure up the spirit of 
+love in her, that he will appear in his true 
+likeness. 
+
+Bur. Pardon the frankness of my mirth, if 
+I answer for that. If you would conjure 
+in her, you must make a circle; if you con- 
+jure up love in her in his true likeness, he 
+must appear naked and blind. Can you 
+blame her then, being a maid yet rosed over 
+with the virgin crimson of modesty, if she deny 
+the appearance of a naked blind boy in her 
+naked seeing self? It were, my lord, a hard 
+condition for a maid to consign to. 
+
+K.Hen. Yet they do wink and yield, as 
+love is blind and enforces. 
+
+Bur. They are then excused, my lord, when 
+they see not what they do. 330 
+
+K.Hen. Then, good my lord, teach: your 
+cousin to consent winking. 
+
+Bur. I will wink on her to consent, my 
+lord, if you will teach her to know my mean- 
+ing: for maids, well summered and warm 
+kept, are like fliés at Bartholomew-tide, blind, 
+though they have their eyes; and then they 
+will endure handling, which before would not 
+ab de looking on. 
+
+K.Hen. This moral ties me over to tune 
+and a hot summer; and so | shall catch the 
+fly, your cousin, in the latter end and she 
+must be blind too. 
+
+Bur. As love is, my lord, before it loves. 
+
+K. Hen. It is so: and you may, some of 
+you, thank love for my blindness, who can- 
+not see many a fair French city for one fair 
+French maid that stands in my way. 
+
+Fr. King. Yes, my lord, you see them per- 
+spectively, the cties turned into a maid; for 
+they are all girdled with maiden walls that 
+war hath never entered. 350 
+
+K.Hen, Shall Kate be my wife? 
+
+Fr. King. So please you. 
+
+K.Hen. J am content; so the maiden cities 
+you talk of may wait on her: so the maid that 
+stood in the way for my wish shall show me 
+the way to my will. 
+
+Fr. King. We have consented to all terms 
+of reason. 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. I] 
+
+
+KING HENRY V 
+
+
+577 
+
+
+K. Hen. Is"t so, my lords of England? 
+West. The king hath granted every article: 
+H's daughter first, and then in sequel all, 361 
+According to their firm proposed natures. 
+Exe. Only he hath not yet subscribed to this: 
+Where your majesty demands, that the King 
+of France, having any occasion to write for 
+matter of grant, shall name your highness in 
+this form and with this addit on, in French, 
+Notre trés-cher fils Henri, Roi d’Angleterre, 
+Héritier de France; and thus in Latin, Pre- 
+clarissimus filius noster Henricus, Rex Anglie, 
+et Heres Francie. ~ 
+Fr. King. Nor th’s I have not, brother, so 
+denied, 
+But your request shall make me let it pass. 
+K. Hen. | pray you then, in love and dear 
+alliance, 
+Let that one article rank with the rest; 
+And thereupon give me your daughter. 
+Fr. King. Take her, fair son, and from her 
+blood raise up 
+Issue to me; that the contending kingdoms 
+Of France and England, whose very shores 
+look pale 
+With envy of each other’s happiness, 
+May cease their hatred, and this dear con- 
+junct on 380 
+Plant neighbourhood and Christian-like accord 
+In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance 
+His bleeding sword ‘twixt England and fair 
+France. 
+All. Amen! 
+K. Hen. Now, welcome, Kate: 
+me witness all, 
+That here I kiss her as my sovereign queen. 
+
+
+[Flourish. 
+
+
+and bear 
+
+
+Q. Isa. God, the best maker of all mar- 
+riages, 
+Combine your hearts in one, your realms in 
+one! 
+
+
+As man and wife, being two, are one in love, 
+So be there ‘twixt your kingdoms such a 
+spousal, 390 
+
+
+That never may ill office, or fell jealousy, 
+
+Which troubles oft the bed of blessed marriage, 
+
+Thrust in between the paction of these king- 
+doms, 
+
+To make divorce of their incorporate league; 
+
+
+That English may as French, French English- 
+
+
+men, 
+Receive each other. God speak this Amen! 
+All. Amen! 
+K. Hen. Prepare we for our marriage: on 
+which day, 
+
+
+My Lord of Burgundy, we ‘Il take your oath, 
+And all the peers’, for surety of our leagues. 
+Then shall I swear to Kate, and you to me; 
+And may our oaths well kept and prosperous 
+
+
+be! [Sennet. Exeunt. 
+EPILOGUE. 
+Enter Chorus. 
+
+Chor. Thus far, with rough and all-unable 
+
+
+pen, 
+Our bending author hath pursued the story, 
+In little room confining mighty men, 
+Mangling by starts the full course of their 
+glory. 
+Small time, but in that small most greatly lived 
+This star of England: Fortune made his 
+sword; 
+By which the world’s. best garden he achieved, 
+And of it left his son imperial lord. 
+
+
+Henry the Sixth, in infant bands crown’d 
+King 
+
+Of France and England, did this king suc- 
+
+ceed; 10 
+
+
+Whose state so many had the managing, 
+That they lost France and made his Eng- 
+
+
+land bleed: 
+
+Which oft our stage hath shown; and, for 
+their sake, 
+
+In your fair minds let this acceptance take. 
+
+
+[Exit 
+
+
+THE FIRST PART OF 
+KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSON/E, 
+
+
+Kine Henry the Sixth. 
+
+Duxe or GLOUCESTER, uncle to the King, 
+and Protector. 
+
+Duke or Beprorb, uncle to the King, and 
+Regent of France. 
+
+Tuomas Beaurort, Duke of Exeter, 
+great-uncle to the King. 
+
+Henry BEAuFoRT, great-uncle to the 
+King, Bishop of Winchester, and after- 
+wards Cardinal. 
+
+Joun Beaurort, Earl, afterwards Duke, 
+of Somerset. 
+
+Ricuarp PLANTAGENET, son of Richard 
+late Earl of Cambridge, afterwards 
+Duke of York. 
+
+Eart oF WARWICK. 
+
+Ear_ OF SALISBURY, 
+
+Ear OF SUFFOLK. 
+
+Lorp Ta.sot, afterwards Earl of Shrews- 
+bury. 
+
+Joun TAacsor, his son. 
+
+Epmunp Mortimer, Earl of March. 
+
+Sir JoHN FAsTOLrFe. 
+
+Sir Witiiam Lucy, 
+
+Sir WiLiiAm GLANSDALE. 
+
+Sir THomas GARGRAVE. 
+
+Mayor of London. 
+
+Woopvitte, Lieutenant of the Tower. 
+
+
+ACT I, 
+
+
+Scene I. Westminster Abbey. 
+
+
+Dead March. Enter the Funeral of Kine 
+Henry the Fifth, attended on by the DUKE 
+or Beprorp, Regent of France; the DUKE 
+or GLOUCESTER, protector; the DUKE OF 
+Exeter, the Earp or Warwick, the 
+BisHop oF WINCHESTER, Heralds, 6c. 
+
+
+Bed. Hung be the heavens with black, 
+yield day to night! 
+Comets, importing change of time aad states, 
+Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky, 
+And with them scourge the bad revolting stars 
+That have consented unto Henry's death! 
+King Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long! 
+England ne’er lost a king of so much worth. 
+Glou. England ne'er had a king until his 
+time. 
+
+
+VERNON, of the White-Rose or York 
+faction. 
+
+Basset, of the Red-Rose or Lancaster 
+faction. 
+
+A Lawyer. Mortimer’s Keepers. 
+
+Cwar_ts, Dauphin, and afterwards King, 
+of France. 
+
+ReIcNiER, Duke of Anjou, and titular 
+King of Naples. 
+
+Duke oF Burcunpy. 
+
+DuKeE oF ALENCON. 
+
+BasTARD OF ORLEANS. 
+
+Governor of Paris. 
+
+Master-Gunner of Orleans, and his Son. 
+
+General of the French forces in Bourdeaux. 
+
+A French Sergeant. A Porter. 
+
+An old Shepherd, father to Joan la Pucelle. 
+
+MarcareET, daughter to Reignier, after- 
+wards married to King Henry. 
+
+CouNnTESS OF AUVERGNE. 
+
+Joan La PuceELLe, commonly called Joan 
+of Arc. 
+
+Lords, Warders of the Tower, Heralds, Ofh- 
+cers, Soldiers, Messengers, and Attendants. 
+
+Fiends appearing to La Pucelle. 
+
+
+Scene: Partly in England, and parily in 
+France. 
+
+
+Virtue he had, deserving to command: 
+
+His brandish’d sword did blind men with his 
+beams: 10 
+
+His arms spread wider than a dragon’s wings; 
+
+His sparkling eyes, replete with wrathful fire, 
+
+More dazzled and drove back his enemies 
+
+Than mid-day sun fierce bent against their 
+faces. 
+
+What should i say? his deeds exceed all 
+speech: 
+
+He ne’er lift up his hand but conquered. 
+
+Exe. We mourn in black: why mourn we 
+
+not in blood? 
+
+Henry is dead and never shall revive: 
+
+Upon a wooden coffin we attend, 
+
+And death’s dishonourable victory 
+
+We with our stately presence glorify, 
+
+Like captives bound to a triumphant car, 
+
+What! shall we curse the planets of mishap 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+578 
+
+
++A 4 
+
+
+~ Act I, Se. I] FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+That plotted thus our glory’s overthrow ? 
+Or shall we think the subtle-witted French 
+-Conjurers and sorcerers, that afraid of him 
+By magic verses have contrived his end? 
+Win. He was a king bless'd of the King 
+of kings. 
+Unto the French the dreadful judgement-day 
+So dreadful will not be as was his sight. 30 
+The battles of the Lord of hosts he fought: 
+The church’s prayers made him so prosperous. 
+Glou. The church! where is it? Had not 
+churchmen pray’d, 
+His thread of life had not so soon decay’d: 
+None do you like but an effeminate prince, 
+Whom, like a school-boy, you may over-awe. 
+Win. Gloucester, whate’er we like, thou 
+art protector 
+And lookest to command the prince and realm. 
+Thy wife is proud; she holdeth thee in awe, 
+More than God or religious churchmen may. 
+Glou. Name not religion, for thou lovest 
+the flesh, 4] 
+And ne'er throughout the year to church thou 
+go’st 
+Except it be to pray against thy foes. 
+Bed. Cease, cease these jars and rest your 
+minds in peace: 
+Let ’s to the altar: heralds, wait on us: 
+Instead of gold, we ‘Il offer up our arms; 
+Since arms avail not now that Henry's dead. 
+Posterity, await for wretched years, 
+When at their mothers’ moist eyes babes shall 
+suck, 
+Our isle be made a nourish of salt tears, 50 
+And none but women left to wail the dead. 
+Henry the Fifth, thy ghost I invocate: 
+Prosper this realm, keep it from civil broils, 
+Combat with adverse planets in the heavens! 
+A far more glorious star thy soul will make 
+
+
+Than Julius Cesar or bright 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+Mess. My honourable lords, health to you 
+all! 
+Sad tidings I bring to you out of France, 
+Of loss, of slaughter and discomfiture: 
+Guienne, Champagne, Rheims, Orleans, - 60 
+Paris, Guysors, Poictiers, are all quite lost. 
+Bed. What say’st thou, man, before dead 
+Henry’s corse? 
+Speak softly, or the loss of those great towns 
+Will make him burst his lead and rise from 
+death. 
+Glou. Is Paris lost? is Rouen yielded up? 
+If Henry were recall’d’to life again, 
+These news would cause him once more yield 
+the ghost. 
+Exe. How were they lost? what treachery 
+was used? 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI 579 
+
+
+Mess. No treachery; but want of men and 
+money. 
+Amongst the soldiers this is muttered, 70 
+That here you maintain several factions, 
+And whilst a field should be dispatch’d and 
+fought, 
+You are disputing of your generals: 
+One would have lingering wars with little cost; 
+Another would fly swift, but wanteth wings; 
+A third thinks, without expense at all, 
+By guileful fair words peace may be obtain’d. 
+Awake, awake, English nobility! 
+Let not sloth dim your honours new-begot: 
+Cropp’d are the flower-de-luces in your arms; 
+Of England's coat one half is cut away. 81 
+Exe. Were our tears wanting to this funeral, 
+These tidings would call forth their flowing 
+tides. 
+Bed. Me they concern; Regent I am of 
+France. 
+Give me my steel’d coat. I'll fight for France. 
+Away with these disgraceful wailing robes! 
+Wounds will I lend the French instead of eyes, 
+
+
+To weep their intermissive miseries. 
+Enter to them another Messenger. 
+Mess. Lords, view these letters full of bad 
+mischance. 
+France is revolted from the English quite, 90 
+Except some petty towns of no import: 
+The Dauphin Charles is crowned king in 
+Rheims; 
+The Bastard of Orleans with him is join’d; 
+Reignier, Duke of Anjou, doth take his part; 
+The Duke of Alencon flieth to his side. 
+Exe. The Dauphin crowned king! all fly 
+to him! 
+O, whither shall we fly from this reproach? 
+Glou. We will not fly, but to our enemies’ 
+throats. 
+Bedford, if thou be slack, I'll fight it out. 
+Bed. Gloucester, why doubt’st thou of my 
+forwardness > 100 
+An army have I muster’d in my thoughts, 
+Wherewith already France is overrun. 
+Enter another Messenger. 
+
+
+Mess. My gracious lords, to add to your 
+laments, 
+
+Wherewith you now bedew ‘King Henry’s 
+hearse, 
+
+
+I must inform you of a dismal fight 
+
+
+Betwixt the stout Lord Talbot and the French. 
+
+
+Win. What! wherein Talbot overcame? 
+is ’t so? 
+
+Mess. O, no; wherein Lord Talbot was 
+o’erthrown. 
+
+
+The circumstance | "Il tell you more at large. 
+The tenth of August last this dreadful lord, 
+
+
+Retiring from the siege of Orleans. 
+
+
+580 FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI [Act I, Se. II 
+
+
+Having full scarce six thousand in his troop, 
+By three and twenty thousand of the French 
+‘ Was round encompassed and set upon. 
+No leisure had he to enrank his men; 
+He wanted pikes to set before his archers; 
+Instead whereof sharp stakes pluck’d out of 
+hedges 
+They pitched in the ground confusedly, 
+To keep the horsemen off from breaking in. 
+More than three hours had the fight continued; 
+Where valiant Talbot above human thought 
+Enacted wonders with his sword and lance: 
+Hundreds he sent to hell, and none durst 
+stand him; 
+Here, there, and everywhere, enraged he flew: 
+The French exclaim'd, the devil was in arms; 
+All the whole army stood agazed on him: 
+His soldiers spying his undaunted spirit 
+A Talbot! a Talbot! cried out amain 
+And rush’d into the bowels of the battle. 
+Here had the conquest fully been seal’d up, 130 
+If Sir John Fastolfe had not play’d the 
+coward: 
+He, being in the vaward, placed behind 
+With purpose to relieve and follow them, 
+Cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke. 
+Hence grew the general wreck and massacre; 
+Enclosed were they with their enemies: 
+A base Walloon, to win the Dauphin’s grace, 
+Thrust Talbot with a spear in the back, 
+Whom all France with their chief assembled 
+strength 
+Durst not presume to look once in the face. 140 
+Bed. Is Talbot slain? then will I slay my- 
+self, 
+For living idly here in pomp and ease, 
+Whilst such a worthy leader, wanting aid, 
+Unto his dastard foemen is betray'd. 
+Mess. O no, he lives; but is took prisoner, 
+And Lord Scales with him and Lord Hunger- 
+ford: 
+Most of the rest slaughter’d or took likewise. 
+Bed. His ransom there is none but I shall 
+
+
+pay: 
+I'll hale the Dauphin headlong from his 
+throne: 149 
+His crown shall be the ransom of my friend; 
+Four of their lords I "Il change for one of ours. 
+Farewell, my masters; to my task will I; 
+Bonfires in France forthwith I am to make, 
+To keep our great Saint George's feast withal: 
+Ten thousand soldiers with me I will take, 
+Whose bloody deeds shall make all Europe 
+quake. 
+Mess. So you had need; for Orleans is be- 
+sieged; 
+The English army is grown weak and faint: 
+The Earl of Salisbury craveth supply, 
+And hardly keeps his men from mutiny, 
+
+
+160 | 
+
+
+Since they, so few, watch such a multitude. 
+Exe. Remember, lords, your oaths to Henry 
+sworn, 
+Either to quell the Dauphin utterly, 
+Or bring him in obedience to your yoke, 
+Bed. I do remember it; and here take my 
+leave, 
+To go about my preparation. [Exit. 
+Glou. I'll go to the tower with all the 
+haste I can, 
+To view the artillery and munition; 
+And then I will proclaim young Henry king. 
+
+
+[Exit 
+Exe. To Eltham will I, where the young 
+king is, 170 
+
+
+Being ordain'd his special governor, 
+And for his safety there I'll best devise. 
+[Exit. 
+Win. Each hath his place and function to 
+attend: 
+I am left out; for me nothing remains. 
+But long I will not be Jack out of office: 
+The king from Eltham I intend to steal 
+And sit at chiefest stern of public weal. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Before Orleans. 
+
+
+Sound a flourish. Enter CHARLES, ALENCON, 
+and REIGNIER, marching with drum and 
+Soldiers. 
+
+
+Char. Mars his true moving, even as in the 
+heavens 
+So in the earth, fo this day not known: 
+Late did he shine upon the English side; 
+Now we are victors; and upon us he smiles, 
+What towns of any moment but we have? 
+At pleasure here we lie near Orleans; 
+Otherwhiles the famish’d English, like pale 
+ghosts, 
+Faintly besiege us one hour in a month, 
+Alen. They want their porridge and their 
+fat bull-beeves: 
+Either they must be dieted like mules 10 
+And have their provender tied to their mouths 
+Or piteous they will look, like drowned 
+mice. 
+Reig. Let's raise the siege: why live we 
+idly here? 
+Talbot is taken, whom we wont to fear: 
+Remaineth none but mad-brain’d Salisbury; 
+And he may well in fretting spend his gall, 
+Nor men nor money hath he to make war. 
+Char. Sound, sound alarum! we will rush 
+on them. 
+Now for the honour of the forlorn French! 
+Him I forgive my death that killeth me 20 
+When he sees me go back one foot or fly. 
+[Exeunt- 
+
+
+Scene Il. France. 
+
+
+eae 
+
+
+We Ntcde'Ser ll) FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY V1 581 
+
+
+Here alarum; they are beaten back by the 
+English with great loss. Re-enter CHARLES, 
+ALENOON, and REIGNIER. 
+
+Char. Who ever saw the like! what men 
+have I! 
+Dogs! cowards! 
+
+have fled, 
+
+But that they left me ‘midst my enemies. 
+Reig. Salisbury is a desperate homicide; 
+
+He fighteth as one weary of his life. 
+
+The other lords, like lions wanting food, 
+
+Do rush upon us as their hungry prey. 
+
+Alen. Froissart, a countryman of ours, 
+records, 
+
+England all Olivers and Rowlandsbred 30 
+
+During the time Edward the Third did reign. 
+
+More truly now may this be verified; 
+
+For none but Samsons and Goliases 
+
+It sendeth forth to skirmish. One to ten! 
+
+Lean raw-bon’d rascals! who would e’er sup- 
+
+a pose 
+They had such courage and audacity ? 
+
+Char. Let’s leave this town; for they are 
+hare-brain'd slaves, 
+
+And hunger will enforce them to be more eager: 
+
+Of old I know them; rather with their teeth 
+
+The walls they ‘ll tear down than forsake the 
+
+i 40 
+
+
+or 
+
+
+dastards! I would ne'er 
+
+
+siege. 
+Reig. I think, by some odd gimmors 
+device 
+Their arms are set like clocks, still to strike on; 
+Else ne’er could they hold out so as they do. 
+By my consent, we'll even let them alone. 
+
+
+Alen. Be it so. 
+Enter the BasTARD of Orleans. 
+Bast. Where's the Prince Dauphin? I have 
+
+
+news for him. 
+Char. Bastard of Orleans, thrice welcome 
+to us. 
+Bast. Methinks your looks are sad, your 
+cheer appall’d: 
+Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence ? 
+Be not dismay'd, for succour is at hand: 50 
+A holy maid hither with me I bring, 
+Which by a vision sent to her from heaven 
+Ordained is to raise this tedious siege , 
+And drive the English forth the bounds of 
+France. 
+The spirit of deep prophecy she hath, 
+Exceeding the nine sibyls of old Rome: 
+What's past and what's to come she can de- 
+
+
+scry. 
+Speak, shall [ call her in? Believe my words, 
+For they are certain and unfallible. 
+Char. Go, call her in. [Exit Bastard. 
+But first, to try her skill. 60 
+Reignier, stand thou as Dauphin in my place: 
+Question her. proudly; let thy looks 
+
+
+be stern: | 
+
+
+By this means shall we sound what skill she 
+hath. 
+
+
+Re-enter the Bastard of Orleans, with Joan 
+La PUcELLE. 
+
+
+Reig. Fair maid, is’t thou who will do 
+these wondrous feats ? 
+Puc. Reignier, is't thou who thinkest to 
+beguile me? 
+Where is the Dauphin? 
+behind; 
+I know thee well, though never seen before. 
+Be not amazed, there ’s nothing hid from me: 
+In private will I talk with thee apart. 
+Stand back, thou lords, and give us leave 
+awhile. 
+Reig. She takes upon her bravely at first 
+dash. 7\ 
+Puc. Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd’s 
+daughter, 
+My wit untrain’d in any kind of art. 
+Heaven and our Lady gracious hath it pleased 
+To shine on my contemptible estate: 
+Lo, whilst I waited on my tender lambs, 
+And to sun's parching heat display’d my cheeks, 
+God's mother deigned to appear to me 
+And in a vision full of majesty 
+Wiill’d me to leave my base vocation 
+And free my country from calamity: 
+Her aid she promised and assured success: 
+In complete glory she reveal’d herself; 
+And, whereas I was black and swart before, 
+With those clear rays which she infused on me 
+That beauty am I bless’d with which you see. 
+Ask me what question thou canst possible, 
+And I will answer unpremeditated: 
+My courage try by combat, if thou darest, 
+And thou shalt find that I exceed my sex. 90 
+Resolve on this, thou shalt be fortunate, 
+If thou receive me for thy warlike mate. 
+Char. Thou hast astonish’d me with thy 
+high terms: 
+Only this proof I'll of thy valour make, 
+In single combat thou shalt buckle with me, 
+And if thou vanquishest, thy words are true; 
+Otherwise I renounce all confidence. 
+Puc. | am prepared: here is my keen-edged 
+sword, 
+Deck'd with five flower-de-luces on each side; 
+The which at Touraine, in Saint Katharine’s 
+churchyard, 100 
+Out of a great deal of old iron I chose forth. 
+Char. Then come, 0’ God's name; | fear 
+
+
+Come, come from 
+
+
+80 
+
+
+no woman. 
+
+Puc. And while I live I'll ne'er fly from 
+a man. 
+[Here they fight, and Joan La Pucelle 
+
+
+overcomes, 
+
+
+582 
+
+
+Char, Stay, stay thy hands! thou art an 
+Amazon 
+And fightest with the sword of Deborah. 
+Puc. Christ's mother helps me, else 1 were 
+too weak, 
+Char. Whoe’er helps thee, ‘tis thou that 
+must help me: 
+Impatiently | burn with thy desire; 
+My heart and hands thou hast at once subdued. 
+Excellent Pucelle, if thy name be so, 110 
+Let me thy servant and not sovereign be; 
+"Tis the French Dauphin sueth to thee thus. 
+Puc. I must not yield to any rites of love, 
+For my profession 's sacred from above: 
+When I have chased all thy foes from hence, 
+Then will I think upon a recompense. 
+Char. Meantime look gracious on thy pros- 
+trate thrall. 
+Reig. My lord, methinks, is very long in 
+talk. 
+Alen. Doubtless he shrives this woman to 
+her smock; 
+Else ne’er could he so long protract his speech. 
+Reiz. Shall-we disturb him, since he keens 
+no mean > 121 
+Alen. fle may mean more than we poor 
+men do know: 
+These women are shrewd tempters with their 
+tongues, 
+Reig. My lord, where are you? what de- 
+vise you on? 
+Shall we give over Orleans, or no? 
+Puc. Why, no, I say, distrustful recreants! 
+Fight till the last gasp; I will be your guard. 
+Char. What she says Ill confirm; we'll 
+fight it out. 
+Puc. Assign'd am I to be the English 
+scourge. 
+This night the siege assuredly I'll raise: 130 
+Expect Saint Martin’s summer, halcyon days, 
+Since I have entered into these wars. 
+Glory is like a circle in the water, 
+Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself 
+Till by broad spreading it disperse to nought. 
+With Henry's death the English circle ends; 
+Dispersed are the glories it included. 
+Now am I like that proud insulting ship 
+Which Cesar and his fortune bare at once. 
+Char. Was Mahomet inspired with a dove? 
+Thou with an eagle art inspired then, 14] 
+Helen, the mother of great Constantine, 
+Nor yet Saint Philip’s daughters were like thee. 
+Bright star of Venus. fall’n down on the earth. 
+How may | reverently worship thee enough ? 
+Alen. Leave off delays, and let us raise the 
+siege. 
+Reis. Woman, do what thou canst to save 
+our honours; 
+Drive them from Orleans and be immortalized. 
+
+
+FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+x 
+
+
+Char. Presently we'll try: come, let’s 
+away about it: 
+
+No prophet will I trust if she prove false. 150 
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. London. Before ithe Tower. 
+
+
+Enter the Duxe or GLoucesTER, mith his 
+Serving-men in blue coats. 
+
+
+Glou. I am come to survey the Tower this 
+
+
+day: 
+
+Since Henry's death, I fear, there is con- 
+veyance. 
+
+Where be these warders, that they wait not 
+here? 
+
+
+Open the gates; “tis Gloucester that calls. 
+First Warder. [Within] Who's there that 
+knocks so imperiously ? 
+First Serv. It is the noble Duke of Glou- 
+cester. 
+Second Warder. [Within] Whoe'er he be, 
+you may not be let in. 
+First Serv. Villains, answer you so the 
+lord protector ? 
+First Warder. [Within] The Lord protect 
+him! so we answer him: 
+We do no otherwise than we are will’d. 10 
+Glou. Who willed you? or whose will 
+stands but mine? 
+There's none protector of the realm but I. 
+Break up the gates, 1 "ll be your warrantize: 
+Shall I be flouted thus by dunghill grooms? 
+[Cloucester’s men rush at the Tower Gates, 
+and Woodville the Lieutenant speaks within. 
+Woody. What noise is this? what traitors 
+have we here? 
+Glou. Lieutenant, is it you whose voice } 
+hear? 
+Open the gates; here 's Gloucester that would 
+enter. 
+Woodv. Have patience, noble duke; I may 
+not open; 
+The Cardinal of Winchester forbids: 
+From him | have express commandment 20 
+That thou nor none of thine shall be let in. 
+Glou. Faint-hearted Woodville, prizest him 
+"fore me? 
+Arrogant Winchester, that haughty prelate, 
+Whom Henry, our late sovereign, ne'er cou 
+brook? 
+Thou art no friend to God or to the king: 
+Open the gates, or I "ll shut thee out shortly. 
+Serving-men. Open the gates unto the lord 
+protector, 
+Or we'll burst them open, if that you come 
+not quickly. 
+
+
+Enter to the Protector at the Tower Gates 
+WINCHESTER and his men in tawny coats. 
+
+
+FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+Win. How now, ambitious Humphrey! 
+- what means this? 
+Glou. Peel’d priest, dost thou command me 
+to be shut out? 30 
+Win. 1 do, thou most usurping proditor, 
+And not protector of the king or realm. 
+Glou. Stand back, thou manifest 
+spirator, 
+Thou that contrivedst to murder our dear lord; 
+Thou that givest whores indulgence to sin: 
+Ill canvass thee in thy broad cardinal’s hat, 
+If thou proceed in this thy insolence. 
+Win. Nay, stand thou back; I will not 
+budge a foot: 
+This be Damascus, be thou cursed Cain, 
+To slay thy brother Abel, if thou wilt. 40 
+Glou. I will not slay thee, but I'll drive 
+thee back: 
+Thy scarlet robes as a child’s bearing-cloth 
+I'll use to carry thee out of this place. 
+Win. Do what thou darest; I beard thee to 
+thy face. 
+Glou. What! am I dared and bearded to 
+my face? 
+Draw, men, for all this privileged place; 
+Blue coats to tawny coats. Priest, beware 
+your beard; 
+I mean to tug it and to cuff you soundly: 
+Under my feet I stamp thy cardinal’s hat: 
+In spite of pope or dignities of church, 50 
+Here by the cheeks I ’ll drag thee up and down. 
+Win. Gloucester, thou wilt answer this 
+before the pope. 
+Glou. Winchester goose, I cry, a rope! a 
+
+
+con- 
+
+
+rope! 
+
+Now beat them hence; why do you let them 
+stay > 
+
+Thee I'll chase hence, thou wolf in sheep's 
+array. 
+
+
+Out, tawny coats! out, scarlet hypocrite! 
+
+
+Here Gloucester’s men beat out the Car- 
+dinal’s men, and enter in the hurly-burly 
+
+
+the Mayor of London and his Officers. 
+
+
+May. Fie, lords! that you, being supreme 
+magistrates, 
+Thus contumeliously should break the peace! 
+Glou. Peace, mayor! thou know’st little of 
+my wrongs: 
+Here’s Beaufort, that regards not God nor 
+king, 60 
+Hath here distrain’d the Tower to his use. 
+Win. Here's Gloucester, a foe to citizens, 
+One that still motions war and never peace, 
+O'ercharging your free purses with large fines, 
+That seeks to overthrow religion, 
+Because he is protector of the realm, 
+And would have armour here out of the Tower, 
+To crown himself king and suppress the prince. 
+
+
+KING HENRY V1 583 
+
+
+Glou. 1 will not answer thee with words, 
+but blows. [Here they skirmish again, 
+May. Nought rests for me in this tumultu- 
+ous strife 70 
+But to make open proclamation: 
+Come, officer; as loud as e’er thou canst 
+Cry. 
+
+Og. All manner of men assembled here in 
+arms this day against God’s peace and the 
+king’s, we charge and command you, in his 
+highness’ name, to repair to your several dwell- 
+ing-places: and not to wear, handle, or use 
+any sword, weapon, or dagger, henceforward, 
+upon pain of death. ; 
+
+Glou. Cardinal, I'll be no breaker of the 
+
+
+law: 80 
+But we shall meet, and break our minds at 
+large. 
+Win. Gloucester, we will meet; to thy 
+cost, be sure: 
+
+
+Thy heart-blood I will have for this day’s work. 
+May. I'll call for clubs, if you will not 
+away. 
+This cardinal’s more haughty than the devil. 
+Glou. Mayor, farewell: thou dost but what 
+thou mayst. 
+Win. Abominable Gloucester, guard thy 
+head; 
+For I intend to have it ere long. 
+[Exeunt severally, Gloucester and Win- 
+chester with their Serving-men. 
+May. See the coast clear’d, and then we 
+will depart. 
+Good God, these nobles should such stomachs 
+bear! 90 
+I myself fight not once in forty year, [Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene IV. Orleans. 
+
+
+Enter, on the walls, a Master Gunner and 
+his Boy. 
+M. Gun. Sirrah, thou know’st how Or- 
+leans is besieged, 
+And how the English have the suburbs won. 
+Boy. Father, I know; and oft have shot at 
+them. 
+Howe’er unfortunate I miss’d my aim. 
+M. Gun. But now thou shalt not. Be thon 
+ruled by me: 
+Chief master-gunner am I of this town; 
+Something I must do to procure me grace, 
+The prince’s espials have informed me 
+How the English, in the suburbs close in- 
+trench’d, 
+Wont through a secret grate of iron bars 
+In yonder tower to overpeer the city 
+And thence discover how with most advantage 
+They may vex us with shot or with assault. 
+To separate this inconvenience, 
+A piece of ordnance ‘gainst it I have placed; 
+
+
+584 FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+And even these three days have I watch’d, 
+If I could see them. 
+Now do thou watch, for I can stay no longer. 
+If thou spy’st any, run and bring me word; 
+And thou shalt find me at the governor's. [Exit. 
+Boy. Father, | warrant you; take you no 
+care; 
+U'll never trouble you, if 1 may spy them. 
+[Exit. 
+Enter, on the turrets, the Lorps SALISBURY 
+and TaLsot, Sir WiLLiAM GLANDSDALE, 
+
+Sir Tuomas Garcrave, and others. 
+
+Sal. Talbot, my life, my joy, again re- 
+
+turn'd! 
+How wert thou handled being prisoner ? 
+Or by what means got'st thou to be releas’d? 
+Discourse, I prithee, on this turret’s top. 
+
+Tal. The Duke of Bedford had a prisoner 
+Call'd the brave Lord Ponton de Santrailles; 
+For him was I exchanged and ransomed. 
+
+But with a baser man of arms by far 30 
+
+Once in contempt they would have barter’d me: 
+
+Which I disdaining scorn’d and craved death 
+
+Rather than I would be so vile-esteem’d. 
+
+In fine, redeem'd I was as I desired. 
+
+But O! the treacherous Fastolfe wounds my 
+heart, 
+
+Whom with my bare fists I would execnte, 
+
+If I now had him brought into my power. 
+
+Sal. Yet tell’st thou not how thou wert 
+
+entertain’d, 
+
+Tal. With scoffs and scorns and contu- 
+
+melious taunts. 
+In open market-place produced they me, 40 
+To be a public spectacle to all: 
+Here, said they, is the terror of the French, 
+The scarecrow that affrights our children so. 
+Then broke I from the officers that led me, 
+And with my nails digg'd stones out of the 
+ground, 
+To hurl at the beholders of my shame: 
+My grisly countenance made others fly; 
+None durst come near for fear of sudden death. 
+In iron walls they deem'd me not secure; 
+So great fear of my name ‘mongst them was 
+spread 
+That they supposed I could rend bars of steel 
+And spurn in pieces posts of adamant: 
+Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I had 
+That walk’d about me every minute while; 
+And if I did but stir out of my bed, 
+Ready they were to shoot me to the heart. 
+Enter the Boy with a linstock. 
+Sal. I grieve to hear what torments you 
+endured, 
+But we will be revenged sufficiently. 
+Now it is supper-time in Orleans: 
+Here, through this grate, I count each one 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+[Act I, Sc. IV 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+And view the Frenchmen how they fortify: 
+Let us look in; the sight will much delight 
+thee. 
+Sir Thomas Gargrave, and Sir William Glans- 
+dale, 
+Let me have your express opinions 
+Where is best place to make our battery next. 
+Gar. I think, at the north gate; for there 
+stand lords. 
+Glan. And I, here, at the bulwark of the 
+bridge. 
+Tal. For aught I see, this city must be 
+famish'd, 
+Or with light skirmishes enfeebled. 
+[Here they shoot. Salisbury and Gargrave 
+
+
+fall, 
+
+Sal. O Lord, have mercy on us, wretched 
+
+sinners! 70 
+
+Gar. O Lord, have mercy on me, woful 
+man! 
+
+
+Tal. What chance is this that suddenly 
+
+hath cross’d us? 
+
+Speak, Salisbury; at least, if thou canst speak: 
+
+How farest thou, mirror of all martial men? 
+
+One of thy eyes and thy cheek’s side struck 
+off! 
+
+Accursed tower! accursed fatal hand 
+
+That hath contrived this woful tragedy! 
+
+In thirteen battles Salisbury o’ercame; 
+
+Henry the Fifth he first train'd to the wars; 
+
+Whilst any trump did sound, or drum struck 
+up, 80 
+
+His sword did ne'er leave striking in the field. 
+
+Yet livest thou, Salisbury? though thy speech 
+doth fail, 
+
+One eye thou hast, to look to heaven for grace: 
+
+The sun with one eye vieweth all the world. 
+
+Heaven, be thou gracious to none alive, 
+
+If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands! 
+
+Bear hence his body; I will help to bury it. 
+
+Sir Thomas Gargrave, hast thou any life? 
+
+Speak unto Talbot; nay, look up to him. 
+
+Salisbury, cheer thy spirit with this comfort; 
+
+Thou shalt not die whiles— I 
+
+He beckons with his hand and smiles on me, 
+
+As who should say ‘When I am dead ana 
+gone, 
+
+Remember to avenge me on the French. 
+
+Plantagenet, I will; and like thee, Nero, 
+
+Play on the lute, beholding the towns burn: 
+
+Wretched shall France be only in my name. 
+
+Here an alarum, and it thunders and lightens, 
+
+What stir is this? what tumult's in the hea- 
+vens? 
+
+Whence cometh this alarum and the noise? 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+Mess. My lord, my lord, the French have 
+gather'd head: 100 
+
+
+ — 
+
+
+—— 
+
+
+Act I, Se. VI] FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI 585 
+
+
+The Dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelle join’d, 
+A holy phophetess new risen up, 
+Is come with a great power to raise the siege. 
+[Here Salisbury lifteth himself up and groans, 
+Tal. Hear, hear how dying Salisbury doth 
+groan! 
+It irks his heart he cannot be revenged. 
+Frenchmen, I ‘ll be a Salisbury to you: 
+Pucelle or puzzel, dolphin or dogfish, 
+Your hearts I'll stamp out with my horse’s 
+heels, 
+And make a quagmire of your mingled brains. 
+Convey me Salisbury into his tent, 110 
+And then we ‘Il try what these dastard French- 
+men dare. [Alarum. Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene V. The same. 
+
+
+Here an alarum again; and TaLpor pursueth 
+the DAUPHIN, and driveth him: then enter 
+Joan La Puce.te, driving Englishmen 
+before her, and exit after them: then re- 
+enter TALBOT. 
+
+
+Tal. Where is my strength, my valour, and 
+my force? 
+Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them; 
+A woman clad in armour chaseth them. 
+
+
+Re-enter La PuceELte. 
+
+
+Here, here she comes, I ‘ll have a bout with 
+thee; 
+Devil or devil’s dam, I ‘ll conjure thee: 
+Blood will I draw on thee, thou art a witch, 
+And straightway give thy soul to him thou 
+; servest. 
+Puc. Come, come, 
+disgrace thee. 
+Tal. Heavens, can 
+prevail ? 
+My breast I'll burst 
+courage 
+And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder, 
+But I will chastise this high-minded strumpet. 
+[They fight again. 
+Puc. Talbot, farewell; thy hour is not yet 
+come: 
+I must go victual Orleans forthwith. 
+[A shori alarum: then enter the town 
+with soldiers. 
+O’ertake me if thou canst; I scorn thy strengih. 
+Go, go, cheer up thy hungry-starved men; 
+Help Salisbury to make his testament: 
+This day is ours, as many more shall be, [Exit. 
+Tal. My thoughts are whirled like a pot- 
+ter’s wheel; 
+I know not where I am, nor what I do: 20 
+A witch, by fear, not force, like Hannibal, 
+Drives back our troops and conquers as she 
+lists: 
+
+
+‘tis only I that must 
+[Here they fight. 
+
+
+you suffer hell so to 
+
+
+with straining of my 
+
+
+So bees with smoke and doves with noisome 
+stench 
+Now, like to whelps, we crying run away. 
+They call’d us for our fierceness English dogs; 
+Now, like to whelps, we crying run away. 
+[A short alarum. 
+Hark, countrymen! either renew the fight, 
+Or tear the lions out of England's coat; 
+Renounce your soil, give sheep in lions’ stead: 
+Sheep run not half so treacherous from the 
+wolf, 30 
+Or horse or oxen from the leopard, 
+As you fly from your oft-subdued slaves. 
+[Alarum. Here another skirmish. 
+It will not be: retire into your trenches: 
+You all consented unto Salisbury'’s death, 
+For none would strike a stroke in his revenge. 
+Pucelle is enter’d into Orleans, 
+In spite of us or aught that we could do. 
+O, would I were to die with Salisbury! 
+The shame hereof will make me hide my head. 
+[Exit TatBot. Alarum; retreat; flourish. 
+
+
+Scene VI. The same. 
+
+
+Enter, on the walls, LA PUcELLE, CHARLEs, 
+REIGNIER, ALENCON, and Soldiers. 
+
+
+Puc. Advance our waving colours on the 
+walls; 
+Rescued is Orleans from the English: 
+Thus Joan la Pucelle hath performed her word. 
+Char. Divinest creature, Astrza’s daughter, 
+How shall I honour. thee for this success ? 
+Thy promises are like Adonis’ gardens 
+That one day bloom’d and fruitful were the 
+next. 
+France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess! 
+Recover’d is the town of Orleans: 
+More blessed hap did ne’er befall our state. 10 
+Reig. Why ring not out the bells aloud 
+throughout the town? 
+Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfires 
+And feast and banquet in the open streets, 
+To celebrate the joy that God hath given us. 
+Alen. All France will be replete with 
+mirth and joy, 
+When they shall hear how we have play'’d 
+the men. 
+Char. “Tis Joan, not we, by whom the day 
+is won; 
+For which I will divide my crown with her, 
+And all the priests and friars in my realm 
+Shall in procession sing her endless praise, 20 
+A statelier pyramis to her I ‘Il rear 
+Than Rhodope’s or Memphis’ ever was: 
+In memory of her when she is dead, 
+Her ashes, in an urn more precious 
+Than the rich-jewel'd coffer of Darius, 
+Transported shall be at high festivals 
+Before the kings and queens of France. 
+
+
+586 
+
+
+FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+sie 
+
+
+ah ee 
+eee 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+No longer on Saint Denis will we cry, 
+But Joan la Pucelle shall be France's saint. 
+Come in, and let us banquet royally, 30 
+After this golden day of victory. 
+
+[Flourish. Exeuni. 
+
+
+ACT II. 
+
+
+Scene I. Before Orleans. 
+
+
+Enter a Sergeant of a band, with two 
+Sentinels. 
+Serg. Sirs, take your places and be vigi- 
+lant: 
+If any noise or soldier you perceive 
+Near to the walls, by some apparent sign 
+Let us have knowledge at the court of guard. 
+First Ser. Sergeant, you shall, [Exit Ser- 
+geant.| Thus are poor servitors, 
+When others sleep upon their quiet beds, 
+Constrain’d to watch in darkness, rain and 
+
+
+cold. 
+
+
+Enter TaLpot, Beprorp, BurcuNDy, and 
+forces, with scaling-ladders, their drums 
+beating a dead march. 
+
+
+Tal. Lord Regent, and redoubted Bur- 
+gundy, 
+By whose approach the regions of Artois, 
+Wallon and Picardy are friends to us, 
+This happy night the Frenchmen are secure, 
+Having all day caroused and banqueted: 
+Embrace we then this opportunity 
+As fitting best to quittance their deceit 
+Contrived by art and baleful sorcery. 
+Bed. Coward of France! how much he 
+wrongs his fame, 
+Despairing of his own arm's fortitude, 
+
+To join with witches and the help of hell! 
+Bur. Traitors have never other company. 
+But what’s that Pucelle whom they term so 
+
+pure > 
+
+Tal. A maid, they say. 
+
+Bed. A maid! and be so martial! 
+
+Bur. Pray God she prove not masculine 
+
+ere long, 
+if underneath the standard of the French 
+She carry armour as she hath begun. 
+Tal. Well, let them practise and converse 
+with spirits: 
+God is our fortress, in whose conquering name 
+Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks. 
+
+Bed. Ascend, brave Talbot; we will fol- 
+
+low thee. 
+
+Tal. Not all together: better far, I guess, 
+That we do make our entrance several ways; 30 
+That, if it chance that one of us do fail, 
+The other yet may rise against their force. 
+
+Bed. Agreed: I'll to yond corner, 
+
+Bur. And [ to this. 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+Tal. And here will Talbot mount, or make 
+his grave. 
+Now, Salisbury, for thee, and for the right 
+Of English Henry, shall this night appear 
+How much in duty I am bound to both. 
+Seni. Arm! arm! the enemy doth make 
+assault! [Cry: ‘Si George, “A Talbot.” 
+
+
+The French leap over the walls in their shirts. 
+Enter, several ways, the Bastard of Or- 
+leans, ALENCON, and REIGNIER, half ready, 
+and half unready. 
+
+
+Alen. How now, my lords! what, all un- 
+
+
+ready so? 
+Bast. Unready! ay, and glad we ‘scaped 
+so well. 40 
+
+
+Reig. "Twas time,'I trow, to wake and 
+leave our beds, 
+Hearing alarums at our chamber-doors. 
+Alen. Of all exploits since first I follow'd 
+arms, 
+Ne’er heard I of a warlike enterprise 
+More venturous or desperate than this. 
+Bast. | think this Talbot be a fiend of hell. 
+Reig. If not of hell, the heavens, sure, 
+favour him. 
+Alen. Here cometh Charles: 1 marvel how 
+he sped. 
+Bast. Tut, holy Joan was his defensive 
+guard, 
+
+
+Enter CHarLes and La PUCELLE. 
+
+
+Char. Is this thy cunning, thou deceitful 
+dame? * 
+Didst thou at first, to flatter us withal, 
+Make us partakers of a little gain, 
+That now our loss might be ten times so much ? 
+Puc. Wherefore is Charles impatient with 
+his friend ? 
+At all times will you have my power alike? 
+Sleeping or waking must I still prevail, 
+Or will you blame and lay the fault on me? 
+Tapinigeas soldiers! had your watch been 
+good, 
+This sudden mischief never could have fall’n. 
+Char. Duke of Alencon, this was your 
+default, 60 
+That, being captain of the watch to-night, 
+Did look no better to that weighty charge. 
+Alen. Had all your quarters been as safely 
+kept 
+As that whereof I had the government, 
+We had not been thus shamefully surprised. 
+Bast. Mine was secure. 
+Reig. And so was mine, my lord. 
+Char. And, for myself, most part of all 
+this might, 
+Within her quarter and mine own precinct 
+I was employ'd in passing to and fro, 
+
+
+roa > 
+
+
+fh is 
+LY 
+
+
+[Act II, Sc. I 
+
+
+Ee ee ee ee ee ee 
+
+
+3 
+5 
+q 
+1 
+| 
+. 
+7 
+
+
+—_ As ee 
+
+
+t 
+
+
+ty Pap eters ey 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+Act Il, Sc. Il] 
+
+
+About relieving of the sentinels: 70 
+Then how or which way should they first 
+break in? 
+Puc. Question, my lords, no further of the 
+case, 
+How or which way: ‘tis sure they found some 
+place 
+But weakly guarded, where the breach was 
+made, 
+
+
+And now there rests no other shift than this; . 
+To gather our soldiers, scatter’'d and dispersed, 
+And lay new platforms to endamage them. 
+
+
+Alarum. Enter an English Soldier, crying 
+‘A Talbot!.a Talbot!’ They fly, leaving 
+their clothes behind. 
+
+
+Sold. I'll be so bold to take what they 
+. have left. 
+The cry of Talbot serves me for a sword; 
+_ For I have loaden me with many spoils, 
+Using no other weapon but his name. 
+
+
+80 
+[Exit. 
+
+
+Within the town. 
+
+
+Enter Tatspot, Beprorp, BuRGUNDY, a 
+Captain, and others. 
+
+
+Bed. The day begins to break, and night 
+>is fled, 
+Whose pitchy mantle over-veil’d the earth. 
+Here sound retreat, and cease our hot pursuit. 
+[Retreat sounded. 
+Tal. Bring forth the body of old Salisbury, 
+And here advance it in the market-place, 
+The middle centre of this cursed town. 
+Now have I paid my vow unto his soul; 
+For every drop of blood was drawn from him 
+There hath at least five Frenchmen died to- 
+night. 
+And that hereafter ages may behold 10 
+‘What ruin happen’d in revenge of him, 
+Within their chiefest temple I'll erect 
+A tomb, wherein his corpse shall be interr’d: 
+Upon the which, that every one may read, 
+Shall be engraved the sack of Orleans, 
+The treacherous manner of his mournful death 
+And what a terror he had been to France.. 
+But, lords, in all our bloody massacre, 
+I muse we met not with the Dauphin’s grace, 
+His new-come champion, virtuous Joan of 
+
+
+Scene II. Orleans. 
+
+
+Arc, 
+Nor any of his false confederates. 21 
+Bed. ‘Tis thought, Lord Talbot, when the 
+fight began, 
+
+
+Roused on the sudden from their drowsy beds, 
+They did amongst the troops of armed men 
+Leap o'er the walls for refuge in the field. 
+Bur. Myself, as far as I could well discern 
+For smoke and dusky vapours of the night, 
+Am sure I scared the Dauphin and his trull, 
+
+
+FIRST PART OF KING HENRY V1 
+
+
+584 
+
+
+When arm in arm they both came swiftly 
+running, 
+
+Like to a pair of loving turtle-doves 30 
+
+That could not live asunder day or night. 
+
+After that things are set in order here, 
+
+We'll follow them with all the power we have. 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+Mess. All hail, my lords! Which of this 
+princely train 
+Call ye the warlike Talbot, for his acts 
+So much applauded through the realm of 
+
+
+France? 
+
+Tal. Here is the Talbot: who would speak 
+with him ? 
+
+Mess. The virtuous lady, Countess of 
+Auvergne, 
+
+
+With modesty admiring thy renown, 
+By me entreats, great lord, thou wouldst 
+vouchsafe 40 
+To visit her poor castle where she lies, 
+That she may boast she hath beheld the man 
+Whose glory fills the world with loud report. 
+Bur. Is it even so? Nay, then, I see our 
+wars . 
+Will turn into a peaceful comic sport, 
+When ladies crave to be encounter’d with. 
+You may not, my lord, despise her gentle suit. 
+Tal. Neer trust me, then; for when a 
+world of men 
+Could not prevail with all their oratory, 
+Yet hath a woman's kindness over-ruled: 50 
+And therefore tell her I return great thanks, 
+And in submission will attend on her. 
+Will not your honours bear me company ? 
+ote No, truly; it is, more than manners 
+will: 
+And I have heard it said, unbidden guests 
+Are often welcomest when they are gone. 
+Tal. Well then, alone, since there's no 
+remedy, 
+I mean to prove this lady's courtesy. 
+Come hither, captain. [Whispers.] You per- 
+ceive my mind? 
+Capt. I do, my lord, and mean accord- 
+
+
+ingly. [Exeunt. 60 
+Scene III. Asvergne. The Countess’ 
+Castle. 
+
+Enter the Countess and her Porter. 
+
+
+Count. Porter, remember what I gave in 
+charge; 
+And when you have done so, bring the keys to 
+
+
+me. 
+Port. Madam, I will. [ Exit. 
+Count. The plot is laid: if all things fall 
+out right, 
+I shall as famous be by this exploit 
+
+
+| As Scythian Tomyris by Cyrus’ death- 
+
+
+588 FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI {Acr II, Se. IV 
+
+
+Great is the rumour of this dreadful knight, 
+
+And his achievements of no less account: 
+
+Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine 
+ears, 
+
+To give their censure of these rare reports. 10 
+
+
+Enter Messenger and TALBOT. 
+
+
+Mess. Madam, 
+According as your ladyship desired, 
+By message craved, so is Lord Talbot come. 
+
+Count. And he is welcome. What! is this 
+
+the man? 
+
+Mess. Madam, it is. 
+
+Couni. Is this the scourge of France? 
+Is this the Talbot, so much fear’d abroad 
+That with his name the mothers still their 
+
+babes? 
+I see report is fabulous and false: 
+I thought I should have seen some Hercules, 
+A second Hector, for his grim aspect, 20 
+And large proportion of his strong-knit limbs. 
+Alas, this is a child, a silly dwarf! 
+It cannot be this weak and writhled shrimp 
+Should strike such terior to his enemies. 
+
+Tal. Madam, I have been bold to trouble 
+
+you: 
+But since your ladyship is not at leisure, 
+I'll sort some other time to visit you. 
+
+Count. What means he now? Go ask him 
+
+whither he goes. 
+
+Mess. Stay, my lord Talbot; for my lady 
+
+craves 
+To know the cause of your abrupt departure. 30 
+
+Tal. Marry, for that she's in wrong belief, 
+
+I go to certify her Talbot's here. 
+
+
+Re-enter Porter with keys. 
+
+
+Count. If thou be he, then art thou prisoner. 
+
+Tal. Prisoner! to whom? 
+
+Count. To me, blood-thirsty lord; 
+And for that cause I train’d thee to my house. 
+Long time thy shadow hath been thrall to me, 
+For in my gallery thy picture hangs: 
+
+But now the substance shall endure the like, 
+And I will chain these legs and arms of thine, 
+Thou hast by tyranny these many years 40 
+Wasted our country, slain our citizens 
+
+And sent our sons and husbands captivate. 
+
+Tal. Ha, ha, ha! 
+
+Count. Laughest thou, wretch? thy mirth 
+
+shall turn to moan. 
+
+Tal. | laugh to see your ladyship so fond 
+To think that you have aught but Talbot's 
+
+shadow 
+Whereon to practise your severity. 
+
+Count. Why, art not thou the man? 
+
+I am indeed. 
+. Then have I substance too. 
+Tal. No, no, I am but shadow of myself :50 
+
+
+You are deceived. my substance is not here; 
+
+
+For what you see is but the smallest part 
+And least proportion of humanity: 
+I tell you, madam, were the whole frame here, 
+It is of such a spacious lofty pitch, 
+Your roof were not sufficient to contain ’t. 
+Count. This is a riddling merchant for the 
+nonce; 
+He will be here, and yet he is not here: 
+How can these contrarieties agree? 
+Tal. That will I show you presently. 60 
+[Winds his horn. Drums strike up: o 
+peal of ordnance. Enter Soldiers. 
+How say you, madam? are you now persuaded 
+That Talbot is but shadow of himself? 
+These are his substance, sinews, arms and 
+strength, 
+With which he yoketh your rebellious necks, 
+Razeth your cities and subverts’ your towns 
+And in a moment makes them desolate. 
+Count. Victorious Talbot, pardon 
+abuse: 
+I find thou art no less than fame hath bruited 
+And more than may be gather’d by thy shape. 
+Let my presumption not provoke thy wrath; 70 
+For I am sorry that with reverence 
+I did not entertain thee as thou art. 
+Tal. Be not dismay'd, fair lady; nor mis- 
+construe oe 
+The mind of Talbot, as you did mistake 
+The outward composition of his body. 
+What you have done hath not offended me; 
+Nor other satisfaction do I crave, 
+But only, with your patience, that we may 
+Taste of your.wine and see what cates you 
+have; 
+For soldiers’ stomachs always serve them well. 
+Count. With all my heart, and think me 
+honoured 81 
+To feast so great a warrior in my house. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. London. The Temple-garden. 
+
+
+Enter the EarRLs oF SOMERSET, SUFFOLK, and 
+Warwick; RICHARD PLANTAGENET, VER- 
+NON, and another Lawyer. 
+
+
+Plan, Great lords and gentlemen, what 
+means this silence > 
+Dare no man answer in a case of truth? 
+Suf. Within the Temple-hall we were too 
+loud; 
+The garden here is more convenient. 
+Plan. Then say at once if I maintain’d the 
+truth; 
+Or else was wrangling Somerset in the error? 
+Suf. Faith, I have been a truant in the law, 
+And never yet could frame my will to it; 
+And therefore frame the law unto my will. 
+Som. Judge you, my Lord of Warwick, 
+then, between us. 10 
+
+
+my 
+
+
+censtih poe 
+
+
+«i 
+
+
+oS ars ah 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+Act Il, Sc. IV] 
+
+
+FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+589 
+
+
+ee ee eae III IIIEIUIIISSSSI SSS 
+
+
+War. Between two hawks, which flies the 
+higher pitch; 
+Between two dogs, which hath the deeper 
+mouth; 
+Between two blades, which bears the better 
+temper: 
+Between two horses, which doth bear him best; 
+Between two girls, which hath the merriest 
+eye; 
+I have perhaps some shallow spirit of judge- 
+ment; d 
+But in these nice sharp quillets of the law, 
+Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw. 
+Plan. Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbear- 
+ance: 
+The truth appears so naked on my side 20 
+That any purblind eye may find it out. 
+Som. And on my side it is so well ap- 
+parell'd, 
+So clear, so shining and so evident 
+_ That it will glimmer through a blind man’s eye. 
+Plan. Since you are tongue-tied and so 
+loath to speak, 
+In dumb significants proclaim your thoughts: 
+Let him that is a true-born gentleman 
+And stands upon the honour of his birth, 
+If he suppose that I have pleaded truth, 
+From off this brier pluck a white rose with me. 
+Som. Let him that is no coward nor no 
+flatterer, 
+But dare maintain the party of the truth, 
+Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me. 
+War. 1 love no colours, and without all 
+colour 
+Of base insinuating flattery 
+I piuck this white rose with Plantagenet. 
+Suf. I pluck this red rose with young 
+Somerset 
+And say withal I think he held the right. 
+Ver. Stay, lords and gentlemen, and pluck 
+no more, 
+Till you conclude that he upon whose side 40 
+The fewest roses are cropp’d from the tree 
+Shall yield the other in the right opinion. 
+Som. Good Master Vernon, it is well ob- 
+jected: 
+If I have fewest, I subscribe in silence. 
+Plan. And I. 
+Ver. Then for the truth and plainness of 
+the case, 
+I pluck this pale and maiden blossom here, 
+Giving my verdict on the white rose side. 
+Som. Prick not your finger as you pluck it 
+
+
+off, 
+Lest bleeding you do paint the white rose red 50 
+And fall on my side so, against your will. 
+Ver. If 1, my lord, for my opinion bleed, 
+Opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt 
+And keep me on the side where still I am. 
+
+
+Som. Well, well, come on: who else? 
+Law. Unless my study and my books be 
+false, 
+The argument you held was wrong in you; 
+[To Somerset. 
+In sign whereof I pluck a white rose too. 
+Plan. Now, Somerset, where is your argu- 
+ment? 
+Som. Here in my scabbard, meditating that 
+Shall dye your white rose in a bloody red. 61 
+Plan. Meantime your cheeks do counter- 
+feit our roses; 
+For pale they look with fear, as witnessing 
+The truth on our side. 
+Som. No, Plantagenet, 
+’Tis not for fear but anger that thy cheeks 
+Blush for pure shame to counterfeit our roses, 
+And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error. 
+Plan. Hath not thy rose a canker, Somer- 
+
+
+set? 
+
+Som. Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantage- 
+net? 
+
+Plan. Ay, sharp and piercing, to maintain 
+his truth; 
+
+
+Whiles thy consuming canker eats his false- 
+hood. 
+Som. Well, I'll find friends to wear my 
+bleeding roses, 
+That shall maintain what I have said is true, 
+Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen. 
+Plan. Now, by this maiden blossom in my 
+hand, 
+I scorn thee and thy fashion, peevish boy. 
+Suf. Turn not thy scorns this way, Plan- 
+
+
+tagenet. 
+
+Plan. Proud Pole, I will, and scorn both 
+him and thee. 
+
+Suf. I'll turn my part thereof into thy 
+throat. 
+
+
+Som. Away, away, good William de la 
+Pole! 
+We grace the yeoman by conversing with him. 
+War. Now, by God's will, thou wrongst 
+him, Somerset; 
+His grandfather was Lionel Duke of Clarence, 
+Third son to the third Edward King of Eng- 
+land: 
+Spring crestless yeomen from so deep a root? 
+Plan. He bears him on the place's privilege, 
+Or durst not, for his craven heart, say thus. 
+Som. By him that made me, I'll maintain 
+my words 
+On any plot of ground in Christendom. 
+Was not thy father, Richard Earl of Cam- 
+bridge, 
+For treason executed in our late king's days? 91 
+And, by his treason, stand’st not thou at- 
+tainted, 
+
+
+Corrupted, and exempt from ancient gentry ? 
+
+
+590 FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI [Act I, Sc. Vo 
+
+
+His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood; 
+And, till thou be restored, thou art a yeoman. 
+Plan. My father was attached, not at- 
+tainted, 
+Condemn’'d to die for treason, but no traitor; 
+And that I'll prove on better men than 
+Somerset, 
+Were growing time once ripen’d to my will. 
+For your partaker Pole and you yourself 100 
+I "ll note you in my book of memory, 
+To scourge you for this apprehension: 
+Look to it well and say you are well warn’d. 
+Som. Ah, thou shalt find us ready for thee 
+still; 
+And know us by these colours for thy foes, 
+For these my friends in spite of thee shall wear. 
+Plan. And, by my soul, this pale and 
+angry rose, 
+As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate, 
+Will I for ever and my faction wear, 
+Until it wither with me to my grave. 110 
+Or flourish to the height of my degree. 
+Suf. Go forward and be choked with thy 
+ambition! 
+And so farewell until I meet thee next. [Exit. 
+Som. Have with thee, Pole. Farewell, am- 
+bitious Richard. [Exit. 
+Plan. How I am braved and must perforce 
+endure it! 
+War. This blot that they object against 
+your house 
+Shall be wiped out in the next parliament 
+Call'd for the truce of Winchester and Glou- 
+cester; 
+And if thou be not then created York, 
+I will not live to be accounted Warwick. 
+Meantime, in signal of my love to thee, 
+Against proud Somerset and William Pole, 
+Will I upon thy party wear this rose: 
+And here I prophesy: this. brawl to-day, 
+Grown to this faction in the Temple-garden, 
+Shall send between the red rose and the white 
+A thousand souls to death and deadly night. 
+Plan. Good Master Vernon, | am bound 
+to you, 
+That you on my behalf would pluck a flower. 
+Ver In your behalf still will I wear the 
+same. 130 
+Law. And so will I. 
+Plan. Thanks, gentle sir. 
+Come, let us four to dinner: I dare say 
+This quarrel will drink blood another day. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene V. The Tower of London. 
+Enter Mortimer. brought in a chair, and 
+Gaolers. 
+
+Mor. Kindkeepers of my weak decaying age, 
+fet dying Mortimer here rest himself. 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+Even like a man new haled from the rack, 
+
+So fare my limbs with long imprisonment; ; 
+
+And these grey locks, the pursuivants of death, 4 
+
+Nestor-like aged in an age of care, § 
+
+Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer. 
+
+These eyes, like lamps whose wasting oil is 
+spent, 2 : 
+
+Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent; / ; 
+
+Weak shoulders, overborne with burthening E 
+grief, “reilo 
+
+And pithless arms, like to a wither’d vine 
+
+That droops his sapless branches to the ground: 
+
+Yet are these feet, whose strengthless stay is 
+numb, 
+
+Unable to support this lump of clay, 
+
+Swift-winged with desire to get a grave, 
+
+As witting I no other comfort have. 
+
+But tell me, keeper, will my nephew come? 
+
+First Gaol. Richard Plantagenet, my lord, 
+
+will come: 
+
+We sent unto the Temple, unto his chamber; 
+
+And answer was return'd that he will come. 
+
+ites Enough: my soul shall then be satis- 
+ed. 
+Poor gentleman! his wrong doth equal mine. 
+Since Henry Monmouth fist began to reign, _ 
+
+
+Before whose glory I was great in arms, 
+This loathsome sequestration have I had; ; 
+And even since then hath Richard been ob- . 
+
+scured, : 
+
+
+Deprived of honour and inheritance. ‘ 
+
+But now the arbitrator of despairs, 
+
+Just death, kind umpire of men’s miseries, 
+
+With sweet enlargement doth dismiss me 
+hence: ‘ 
+
+I would his troubles likewise were expired, 
+
+That so he might recover what was lost. 
+
+
+Pe ae ee 
+
+
+Enter RicHARD PLANTAGENET. 
+
+
+First Gaol. My lord, your loving nephew 
+now is come. 
+Mor. Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is : 
+he come? : 
+Plan. Ay, noble uncle, thus ignobly used, 
+Your nephew, late despised Richard, comes. d 
+Mor. Direct mine arms I may embrace his : 
+neck, 
+And in his bosom spend my latter gasp: - 
+O, tell me when my lips do touch his cheeks, 
+That I may kindly give one fainting kiss. 40 
+And now declare, sweet stem from York's 
+great stock, 
+Why didst thou say, of late thou wert despised ? 
+Plan. First, lean thine aged back aganist 
+mine arm; 
+And, in that ease, I ‘ll tell thee my disease. 
+This day, in argument upon a case, 
+Some words there grew ‘twixt Somerset and me; 
+Among which terms he used his lavish tongue 
+
+
+7 r} ete os 
+
+
+Wer ; ae $e 
+act III, Sc, I] 
+
+
+FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI 591 
+
+
+And did upbraid me with my father’s death: 
+Which obloquy set bars before my tongue, 
+Else with the like I had requited him. 50 
+Therefore, good uncle, for my father’s sake, 
+In honour of a true Plantagenet 
+Asnd for alliance sake, declare the cause 
+My father, Earl of Cambridge, lost his head. 
+Mor. That cause, fair nephew, that im- 
+prison’d me 
+And hath detain’d me all my flowering youth 
+Within a loathsome dungeon, there to pine, 
+Was cursed instrument of his decease. 
+Plan. Discover more at large what cause 
+that was, 
+For I am ignorant and cannot guess. 60 
+Mor. I will, if that my fading breath permit 
+And death approach not ere my tale be done. 
+Henry the Fourth, grandfather to this king, 
+Deposed his nephew Richard, Edward's son, 
+The first-begotten and the lawful heir 
+~~ Of Edward king, the third of that descent: 
+During whose reign the Percies of the north, 
+Finding his usurpation most unjust, 
+Endeavour'd my advancement to the throne: 
+The reason moved these warlike lords to this 
+Was, for that—young King Richard thus re- 
+moved, 71 
+Leaving no heir begotten of his body— 
+I was the next by birth and parentage; 
+For by my mother I derived am 
+From Lionel Duke of Clarence, the third son 
+To King Edward the Third; whereas he 
+From John of Gaunt doth bring his pedigree, 
+Being but fourth of that heroic line. 
+But mark: as in this haughty great attempt 
+They laboured to plant the rightful heir, 
+I Jost my liberty and they their lives. 
+Long after this, when Henry the Fifth, 
+Succeeding his father Bolincbroke, did reign. 
+Thy father, Earl of “ambridge. then derived 
+From famous Edmund Langley, Duke of York, 
+Marrying my sister that thy mother was, 
+Again in pity of my hard distress 
+Levied an army. weening to redeem 
+And have install’d me in the diadem: 
+But, as the rest, so fell that noble earl 
+_ And was beheaded. Thus the Mortimers, 
+In whom the title rested, were suppress’d. 
+Plan. Of which, my lord, your honour is 
+the last. 
+Mor. True; and thou seest that I no issue 
+have 
+And that my fainting words do warrant death: 
+Thou art my heir; the rest I wish thee gather: 
+But yet be wary in thy studious care. 
+Plan. Thy grave admonishments prevail 
+with me: 
+But yet, methinks, my father’s execution 
+Was nothing less than bloody tvranny. 
+
+
+80 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+100 
+
+
+Mor. With silence, nephew, be thou politic: 
+Strong-fixed is the house of Lancaster 
+And like a mountain, not to be removed. 
+But now thy uncle is removing hence; 
+As princes do their courts, when they are cloy’d 
+With long continuance in a settled place. 
+Plan. O, uncle, would some part of my 
+young years 
+Might but redeem the passage of your age! 
+Mor. Thou dost then wrong me, as that 
+slaughterer doth 109 
+Which giveth many wounds when one will ki)’, 
+Mourn not, except thou sorrow for my good; 
+Only give order for my funeral: 
+And so farewell, and fair be all thy hopes 
+And prosperous be thy life in peace and war! 
+[Dies. 
+Plan. And peace, no war, befall thy part- 
+ing soul! 
+In prison hast thou spent a pilerimage 
+And like a hermit overpass’d thy days. 
+Well, I will lock his counsel in my breast; 
+And what I do imagine let that rest. 
+Keepers, convey him hence, and | myself 120 
+Will see his burial better than his life. 
+[Exeunt Gaolers, bearing out the body 
+of Mortimer. 
+Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer, 
+Choked with ambition of the meaner sort: 
+And for these wrongs, those bitter injuries, 
+Which Somerset hath offer’d to my house, 
+I doubt not but with honour to redress; 
+And therefore haste I to the parliament, 
+Either to be restored to my blood, 
+Or make my ill the advantage of my good. 
+
+
+[ Exit. 
+
+ACT III. 
+Scene I, London. The Parliament-house. 
+Flourish. Enter Kinc, EXETER, GLOUCESTER, 
+
+
+Warwick, SOMERSET, and SuFFOLK; the 
+BisHop oF WINCHESTFR, RICHARD PLAN- 
+TAGENET, and others. GLOUCESTER offers to 
+put up a bill; WINCHESTER snatches it, 
+and tears it. 
+
+
+sai Comest thou with deep premeditated 
+
+ines, 
+
+With written pamphlets studiously devised, 
+
+Humphrey of Gloucester? If thou canst ac- 
+cuse, 
+
+Or aught intend’st to lay unto my charge, 
+
+Do it without invention, suddenly; 
+
+As I with sudden and extemporal speech 
+
+Purpose to answer what thou canst object. 
+
+Glou. Presumptvous priest! this place com- 
+
+mands my patience, 
+
+
+| Or thou shouldst find thou hast dishonour'd me, 
+
+
+592 FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+Think not, although in writing I preferr'd 10 
+The manner of thy vile outrageous crimes, 
+That therefore I have forged, or am not able 
+Verbatim to rehearse the method of my pen: 
+No, prelate; such is thy audacious wickedness, 
+Thy lewd, pestiferous and dissentious pranks, 
+As very infants prattle of thy pride. 
+Thou art a most pernicious usurer, 
+Froward by nature, enemy to peace; 
+Lascivious, wanton, more than well beseems 
+A man of thy profession and degree; 20 
+And for thy treachery, what ’s more manifest? 
+In that thou laid’st a trap to take my life, 
+As well at London bridge as at the Tower. 
+Beside, I fear me, if thy thoughts were sifted, 
+The king, thy sovereign, is not quite exempt 
+From envious malice of thy swelling heart. 
+Win. Gloucester, I do defy thee. Lords, 
+vouchsafe 
+
+To give me hearing what I shall reply. 
+
+If I were covetous, ambitious or perverse, 
+
+As he will have me, how am I so poor? 
+
+Or how haps it I seek not to advance 
+
+Or raise myself, but keep my wonted calling? 
+
+And for dissension, who preferreth peace 
+
+More than I do?—except I be provoked. 
+
+No, my good lords, it is not that offends; 
+
+It is not that that hath incensed the duke: 
+
+It is, because no one should sway but he; 
+
+No one but he should be about the king; 
+
+And that engenders thunder in his breast 
+
+And makes him roar these accusations forth. 
+
+But he shall know I am as good— 4l 
+Glou. As good! 
+
+Thou bastard of my grandfather! 
+
+Win. Ay, lordly sir; for what are you, I 
+pray, 
+
+But one imperious in another's throne? 
+Glou. Am I not protector, saucy priest? 
+Win. And am not! a prelate of the church? 
+Glou. Yes, as an outlaw in a castle keeps 
+
+And useth it to patronage his theft. 
+
+Win. Unreverent Gloster! 
+Glou. Thou art reverent 
+
+‘Touching thy spiritual function, not thy life. 
+Win. Rome shall remedy this. 5] 
+War. Roam thither, then. 
+Som. My lord, it were your duty to forbear. 
+War. Ay, see the bishop be not overborne. 
+Som. Methinks my lord should be religious 
+
+And know the office that belongs to such. 
+War. Methinks his lordship should be 
+
+humbler ; 
+
+It fitteth not a prelate so to plead. 
+
+Som. Yes, when his holy state 1s touch’d so 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+near. 
+War. State holy or unhallow'd, what of 
+
+that> 
+60 
+
+
+{s not his grace protector to the king> 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+fAcrilie scent 
+
+
+Plan. [Aside] Plantagenet, I see, must hold 
+his tongue, 
+
+
+Lest it be said ‘Speak, sirrah, when you should; 
+Must your bold verdict enter talk with lords?’ 
+Else would I have a fling at Winchester. 
+
+
+King. Uncles of Gloucester and of Win- 
+
+
+chester, 
+
+
+The special watchmen of our English weal, 
+
+I would prevail, if prayers might prevail, 
+
+To join your hearts in love and amity. 
+
+O, what a scandal is it to our crown, 
+
+That two such noble peers as ye should jar! 
+Believe me, lords, my tender years can tell 
+Civil dissension is a viperous worm 
+
+That gnaws the bowels of the commonwealth. 
+
+
+[A noise within, ‘Down with the tawny-coats!” 
+
+
+What tumult’s this? 
+
+
+War. . An uproar, | dare warrant, 
+Begun through malice of the bishop’s men. 
+
+
+[A noise again, ‘Stones! Stones!" - 
+
+
+Enter Mayor. 
+
+
+May. O, my good lords, and virtuous 
+Henry, 
+Pity the city of London, pity us! 
+The bishop and the Duke of Gloucester’s men, 
+Forbidden late to carry any weapon, 
+Have fill’d their pockets full of pebble stones 
+And banding themselves in contrary parts 
+
+
+Do pelt so fast at one another's pate 
+That many have their giddy brains knock’d out: 
+
+
+Our windows are broke down in every street 
+And we for fear compell’d to shut our shops. 
+
+
+Enter Serving-men, in skirmish, with bloody 
+pales. 
+
+
+pe ‘We charge you, on allegiance to our- 
+self, 
+To hold your slaughtering hands and keep the 
+peace. 
+Pray, uncle Gloucester, mitigate this strife. 
+First. Serv. Nay, if we be forbidden 
+stones, we ‘Il fall to it with our teeth. 90 
+Sec. Serv. Do what ye dare, we are as re- 
+solute. [Skirmish again. 
+Glou. You of my household, leave this 
+peevish broil 
+And set this unaccustom'd fight aside. 
+Third Serv. My lord, we know your grace 
+to be a man 
+Just and upright; and, for your royal birth, 
+Inferior to none but to his majesty: 
+And ere that we will suffer such a prince, 
+So kind a father of the commonweal, 
+To be disgraced by an inkhorn mate, 
+We and our wives and children all will fight 
+And have our bodies slaughter’d by thy foes, 
+First Serv. Ay, and the very parings of 
+our nailc 
+
+
+at 
+
+
+3 
+. 
+b 
+
+
+“ . ne 
+
+
+Act Il, Sc. I] FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI 593 
+
+
+Shall pitch a field when we are dead. 
+. [Begin again. 
+Glou. Stay, stay, I say! 
+_ And if you love me, as you say you do, 
+Let me persuade you to forbear awhile. 
+_ King. O, how this discord doth afflict my 
+soul! 
+Can you, my Lord of Winchester, behold 
+My sighs and tears and will not once relent? 
+Who should be pitiful, if you be not? 
+Or who should study to prefer a peace, 110 
+lf holy churchmen take delight in broils? 
+War. Yield, my lord protector; yield, 
+Winchester; 
+Except you mean with obstinate repulse 
+To slay your sovereign and destroy the realm. 
+You see what mischief and what murder too 
+Hath been enacted through your enmity; 
+Then be at peace, except ye thirst for blood. 
+Win. He shall submit, or | will never yield. 
+Glou. Compassion on the king commands 
+me stoop; 
+Or I would see his heart out, ere the priest 120 
+Should ever get that privilege of me. 
+War. Behold, my Lord of Winchester, the 
+duke 
+Hath banish’d moody discontented fury, 
+As by his smoothed brows it doth appear: 
+Why look you still so stern and tragical > 
+Glou. Here, Winchester, I offer thee my 
+hand. 
+King. Fie, uncle Beaufort! 
+you preach 
+That malice was a great and grievous sin; 
+And will not you maintain the thing you 
+teach, 
+But prove a chief offender in the same? 130 
+War. Sweet king! the bishop hath a kindly 
+gird. 
+For shame, my Lord of Winchester, relent! 
+What, shall a child instruct you what to do? 
+Win. Well, Duke of Gloucester, I will 
+yield to thee; 
+Love for thy love and hand for hand I give. 
+Glou. [Aside] Ay, but, I fear me, with a 
+hollow heart.— 
+See here, my friends and loving countrymen, 
+This token serveth for a flag of truce 
+Betwixt ourselves and all our followers: 
+So help me God. as {i dissemble not! 140 
+Win. [Aside] So help me God, as I intend 
+it not! 
+King. O loving uncle, kind Duke of Glou- 
+ cester, 
+How joyful am I made by this contract! 
+Away, my masters! trouble us no more; 
+But join in friendship, as your lords have done. 
+First Serv. Content: I'll to the surgeon's. 
+Sec. Serv. And so will I. 
+
+
+I have heard 
+
+
+Third Serv. And I will see what physic the 
+tavern affords. 
+[Exeunt Serving-men, Mayor, &c. 
+
+War. Accept this scroll, most gracious 
+
+sovereign, 
+
+Which in the right of Richard Plantagenet 
+
+We do exhibit to your majesty. 151 
+Glou. Well urged, my Lord of Warwick: 
+
+for, sweet prince, 
+
+An if your grace mark every circumstance, 
+
+You have great reason to do Richard right; 
+
+Especially for those occasions 
+
+At Eltham Place I told your majesty. 
+
+King. And those occasions, uncle, were of 
+
+force: 
+
+Therefore, my loving lords, our pleasure is 
+
+That Richard be restored to his blood. 159 
+War. Let Richard be restored to his blood; 
+
+So shall his father’s wrongs be recompensed. 
+Win. As will the rest, so willeth Win- 
+
+chester. 
+
+King. If Richard will be true, not that 
+
+alone 
+
+But all the whole inheritance I give 
+
+That doth belong unto the house of York, 
+
+From whence you spring by lineal descent. 
+Plan. Thy humble servant vows obedience 
+
+And humble service till the point of death. 
+King. Stoop then and set your knee against 
+
+my foot; 
+
+And, in reguerdon of that duty done, 170 
+
+I gird thee with the valiant sword of York: 
+
+Rise, Richard, like a true Plantagenet, 
+
+And rise created princely Duke of York. 
+Plan. And so thrive Richard as thy foes 
+
+may fall! 
+
+And as my duty springs, so perish they 
+
+That grudge one thought against your majesty ! 
+All. Welcome, high prince, the mighty 
+
+Duke of York! 
+Som. [Aside] Perish, base prince, ignoble 
+Duke of York! 
+
+Glou. Now will it best avail your majesty 
+To cross the seas and to be crown’'d in France: 
+The presence of a king engenders love 18] 
+Amongst his subjects and his loyal friends, 
+As it disanimates his enemies. 
+
+King. When Gloucester says the word, 
+
+King Henry goes; 
+
+For friendly counsel cuts off many foes. 
+Glou. Your ships already are in readiness. 
+[Sennnet. Flourish. Exeunt all but Exeter. 
+Exe. Ay, we may march in England or in 
+
+France, 
+
+Not seeing what is likely to ensue. 
+
+This late dissension grown betwixt the peers 
+
+Burns under feigned ashes of forged love 190 
+
+And will at last break out into a flame: 
+
+As fester’d members rot but by degree, 
+
+
+594 
+
+
+FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+18 4 % 
+
+
+Till bones and flesh and sinews fall away, 
+
+So will this base and envious discord breed. 
+
+And now I fear that fatal prophecy 
+
+Which in the time of Henry named the Fifth 
+
+Was in the mouth of every sucking babe; 
+
+That Henry born at Monmouth should win all 
+
+And Henry born at Windsor lose all: 
+
+Which is so plain that Exeter doth wish 200 
+
+His days may finish ere that hapless time. 
+[Exit. 
+
+
+Scene II. France. Before Rouen. 
+
+
+Enter LA PUucELLe disguised, with four 
+Soldiers with sacks upon their backs. 
+
+
+Puc. These are the city gates, the gates of 
+Rouen, 
+Through which our policy must make a breach: 
+Take heed, be wary how you place your words; 
+Talk like the vulgar sort of macket men 
+That come to gather money for their corn. 
+If we have entrance, as I hope we shall, 
+And that we find the slothful watch but weak, 
+I'll by a sign give notice to our friends, 
+That Charles the Dauphin may encounter them. 
+First Sol. Our sacks shall be a mean .to 
+sack the city, 10 
+And we be lords and rulers over Rouen; 
+Therefore we ll knock. [Knocks. 
+Waich. [Within] Qui est la? 
+Puc. Paysans, pauvres gens de France; 
+Poor market folks that come to sell their corn. 
+Watch. Enter, go in; the market bell isrung. 
+Puc. Now, Rouen, I'll shake thy bulwarks 
+to the ground. [Exeunt. 
+Enter Cares, the BastarD of Orleans, 
+ALENCON, REIGNIER, and forces. 
+Char. Saint Denis bless this happy strata- 
+gem! 
+And we be lords and rulers over Rouen; 
+Bast. Here enter'd Pucelle and her practis- 
+ants; 20 
+Now she is there, how will she specify 
+Where is the best and safest passage in? 
+Reig. By thrusting out a torch from yonder 
+tower; 
+Which, once discern’d, shows that her mean- 
+ing is, 
+
+No way to that, for weakness, whichshe enter’d. 
+Enter La Puceie on the top, thrusting out 
+a torch burning. 
+
+Puc. Behold, this is the happy wedding 
+torch 
+That joineth Rouen unto her countrymen, 
+But burning fatal to the Talbotites! 
+
+
+friend; 
+
+
+The burning torch in yonder turret stands. 30 
+Char, Now shine it like a comet of revenge, 
+
+
+A prophet to the fall of all our foes! ; 
+Reig, Defer no time, delays have danger- | 
+
+
+An alarum: 
+
+
+[ Exit. 
+Bast. See, noble Charles, the beacon of our 
+
+
+ous ends; 
+
+
+Enter, and cry “The Dauphin!’ presently, 
+And then do execution on the watch. 
+
+
+[Alarum. Exeunt. 
+
+
+An alarum. Enter TaLBoT in an excursion. 
+
+
+Tal. France, thou shalt rue this treason with 
+thy tears, 
+
+
+If Talbot but survive thy treachery, 
+
+Pucelle, that witch, that damned sorceress, 
+Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares, 
+That hardly we escaped the pride of France. 
+
+
+[ Exit. 
+excursions, BEDFORD, brought 
+in sick in a chair, Enter TaLtBoT and 
+Burcunpy without: within La PUcELLE, 
+CHarLes, Bastard, ALENCON, and REIG- 
+NIER, on the walls. - 
+Puc. Good morrow, gallants! want ye corn 
+
+
+for bread > 
+
+
+I think the Duke of Burgundy will fast: 
+Before he ‘ll buy again at such a rate: 
+‘Twas full of darnel; do you like the taste? 
+
+
+Bur. Scoff on, vile fiend and shameless 
+courtezan! 
+
+
+I trust ere long to choke thee with thine own 
+And make thee curse the harvest of that corn. 
+
+
+Char. Your grace may starve perhaps be- 
+fore that time. 
+
+Bed. O, let no words, but deeds, revenge 
+this treason! 
+
+Puc. What will you do, good grey-beard? 
+break a lance, 50 
+
+
+And run a tilt at death within a chair? 
+
+
+Tal, Foul fiend of France, and hag of all 
+despite, 
+Encompass'd with thy lustful paramours! 
+Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age 
+And twit with cowardice a man half dead? 
+Damsel, I ‘ll have a bout with you again, 
+Or else let Tabot perish with this shame. 
+Puc. Are ye so hot, sir? yet, Pucelle, 
+hold thy peace; 
+If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow. 
+[The English whisper together in council. 
+God speed the parliament! who shall be the 
+speaker ? 60 
+Tal. Dare ye come forth and meet us in 
+the field? 
+Puc. Belike your lordship takes us then 
+for fools, 
+To try if that our own be ours or no. 
+Tal. I speak not to that railing Hecate, 
+But unto thee, Alencon, and the rest; 
+Will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out? 
+Alen, Signior, no. 
+Tal. Signior, hang! base muleters of France! 
+
+
++i 
+
+
+— a 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+, 
+
+
+Act Ill, Sc. III] FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+Like peasant foot-boys do they keep the walls 
+And dare not take up arms like gentlemen. 70 
+Puc. Away, captains! let's get us from 
+the walls; 
+For Talbot means no goodness by his looks. 
+God be wi’ you, my lord! we came but to tell 
+you 
+That we are here. [Exeunt from the walls. 
+Tal. And there will we be too, ere) it be 
+long, 
+Or else reproach be Talbot's greatest fame! 
+Vow, Burgundy, by honour of thy house, 
+Prick’d on by public wrongs sustain’d in France, 
+Either to get the town again or die: 
+And I, as sure as English Henry lives 80 
+And as his father here was conqueror, 
+As sure as in this late-betrayed town 
+Great Cceur-de-lion’s heart was buried, 
+So sure I swear-to get the town or die. 
+Bur. My vows are equal partners with thy 
+vows. 
+Tal. But, 
+prince, 
+The valiant Duke of Bedford. Come, my lord, 
+
+
+We will bestow you in some better place, 
+
+
+ere we go, regard this dying 
+
+
+' Fitter for sickness and for crazy age. 
+
+
+Bed. Lord Talbot,do not so dishonour me: 
+Here will I sit before the walls of Rouen 91 
+And will be partner of your weal or woe. 
+
+Bur. Courageous Bedford, let us now per- 
+
+suade you. 
+
+Bed. Not to be gone from hence; for 
+
+once I read 
+That stout Pendragon in his litter sick 
+Came to the field and vanquished his foes: 
+Methinks I should revive the soldiers’ hearts, 
+Because I ever found them as myself. 
+
+Tal. Undaunted spirit in a dying breast! 
+Then be it so: heavens keep old Bedford safe! 
+And now no more ado, brave Burgundy, 101 
+But gather we our forces out of hand 
+And set upon our boasting enemy. 
+
+
+[Exeunt all but Bedford and Attendants. 
+
+
+An alarum: excursions. Enter Sir Joun 
+FasToLre and a Captain. 
+
+
+Cap. Whither away, Sir John Fastolfe, in 
+such haste? 
+Fast. Whither away! to save myself by 
+flight: 
+We are like to have the overthrow again. 
+Cap. What! will you “2 and leave Lord 
+Talbot? 
+
+
+Fast. Ay, 
+All the Talbots in the world, to save my life. 
+[Exit. 
+Cap. Cowardly knight! ill fortune follow 
+thee! [ Exit. 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI 595 
+
+
+Ruvode excursions, LA PUCcELLE, ALENGON, 
+and CHARLEs fly. 
+
+
+Bed. Now, quiet soul, depart when heaven 
+please, 110 
+
+For I have seen our enemies’ overthrow. 
+What is the trust or strength of foolish man? 
+They that of late were daring with their scoffs 
+Are glad and fain by flight to save themselves. 
+[Bedford dies, and is carried in by two in 
+his chair. 
+An alarum. Re-enter Tatsot, Burcunpy, 
+
+and the rest. 
+
+
+Tal. Lost, and recover’d in a day again! 
+This is a double honour, Burgundy: 
+
+Yet heavens have glory for this victory! 
+
+Bur. Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy 
+Enshrines thee in his heart and there erects 
+Thy noble deeds as valour’s monuments. 120 
+
+Tal. Thanks, gentle duke. But where is 
+
+Pucelle now? 
+
+I think her old familiar is asleep: 
+
+Now where’s the Bastard’s braves, 
+Charles his gleeks> 
+
+What, all amort? Rouen hangs her head for 
+grief 
+
+That such a valiant company are fled. 
+
+Now will we take some order in the town, 
+
+Placing therein some expert officers, 
+
+And then depart to Paris to the king, 
+
+For there young Henry with his nobles lie. 
+
+
+and 
+
+
+Bur. What wills Lord Talbot pleaseth 
+Burgundy. 130 
+Tal. But yet, before we go, let’s not forget 
+
+
+The noble Duke of Bedford late deceased, 
+But see his exequies fulfill’d in Rouen: 
+
+A braver soldier never couched lance, 
+
+A gentler heart did never sway in court; 
+
+But kings and mightiest potentates must die, 
+For that’s the end of human misery. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. The plains near Rouen. 
+
+
+Enter Cuarces, the BASTARD of Orleans, 
+A.ENcOoN, La PucELLE, and forces. 
+
+
+Puc. Dismay not, princes, at this accident, 
+Nor grieve that Rouen is so recovered: 
+Care is no cure, but rather corrosive, 
+For things that are not to be remedied. 
+Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while 
+And like a peacock sweep along his tail; 
+We 'll pull his plumes and take away his train, 
+If Dauphin and the rest wili be but ruled. 
+Char. We have been guided by thee hitherto 
+And of thy cunning had no diffidence: 10 
+One sudden foil shall never breed distrust. 
+Bast. Search out thy wit for secret policies, 
+And we will make thee famous through the 
+world. 
+Alen, We'll setthy statue insome holy place. 
+
+
+596 FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI [Acr III, Sc. 1V 
+
+
+And have thee reverenced like a blessed saint: 
+Employ thee then, sweet virgin, for our good. 
+Puc. Then thus it must be; this doth Joan 
+devise: 
+By fair persuasions mix’d with sugar’d words 
+We will entice the Duke of Burgundy 
+To leave the Talbot and to follow us. 20 
+Char. Ay, marry, sweeting, if we could do 
+that, 
+France were no place for Henry's warriors; 
+Nor should that nation boast it so with us, 
+But be extirped from our provinces. 
+Alen. For ever should they be expulsed 
+from France 
+And not have title of an earldom here. 
+Puc. Your honours shall perceive how | 
+will work 
+To bring this matter to the wished end. 
+[Drum sounds afar off. 
+Hark! by the sound of drum you may perceive 
+Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward. 
+
+
+Here sound an English march. Enter, and 
+pass over al a distance, TatBor and his 
+forces. 
+
+
+There goes the Talbot, with his colours spread, 
+And all the troops of English after him. 
+
+
+French march. Enter the Duke oF Bur- 
+GUNDY and forces. 
+
+
+Now in the rearward comes the duke and his: 
+Fortune in favour makes him lag behind. 
+Summon a parley; we will talk with him. 
+[Trumpets sound a parley. 
+Char. A parley with the Duke of Burgundy! 
+Bur. Who craves a parley with the Bur- 
+gundy ? 
+Puc. The princely Charles of France, thy 
+countryman. 
+Bur. What say’st thou, Charles? for I am 
+marching hence. 
+Char. Speak, Pucelle, and enchant him 
+with thy words. 4l 
+Puc. Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of 
+France! 
+
+Stay, let thy humble handmaid speak to thee. 
+Bur. Speak on; but be not over-tedious. 
+Puc. Wook on thy country, look on fertile 
+
+France, 
+
+And see the cities and the towns defaced 
+
+By wasting ruin of the cruel foe. 
+
+As looks the mother on her lowly babe 
+
+When death doth close his tender dying eyes, 
+
+See, see the pining malady of France; 49 
+
+Behold the wounds. the most unnatural wounds, 
+
+Which thou thyself hast given her woful breast. 
+
+O, turn thy edged sword another way; 
+
+Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that 
+
+help. 
+
+
+One drop of blood drawn from thy country’s 
+bosom 
+Should grieve thee more than streams of 
+foreign gore: 
+Return thee therefore with a flood of tears, 
+And wash away thy country’s stained spots. 
+Bur. Either she hath bewitch’d me with 
+her words, 
+Or nature makes me suddenly relent. 
+Puc. Besides, all French and France ex- 
+claims on thee, 60 
+Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny. 
+Who join’st thou with but with a lordly nation 
+That will not trust thee but for profit’s sake? 
+When Talbot hath set footing once in France 
+And fashion'd thee that instrument of ill, 
+Who then but English Henry will be lord 
+And thou be thrust out like a fugitive? 
+Call we to mind, and mark bit this for proof. 
+Was not the Duke of Orleans thy foe? 
+And was he not in England prisoner? 70 
+But when they heard he was thine enemy, 
+They set him free without his ransom paid, 
+In spite of Burgundy and all his friends. 
+See, then, thou fight'st against thy countrymen 
+And join’st with them will be thy slaughter- 
+men. 
+Come, come, return; return, thou wandering 
+
+
+lord; 
+
+
+Charles and the rest will take thee in their arms. 
+
+
+Bur. I am vanquished; these haughty 
+words of hers 
+Have batter'd me like roaring cannon-shot, 
+And made me almost yield upon my knees. 
+Forgive me, country, and sweet countrymen, 
+And, lords, accept this hearty kind embrace: 
+My forces and my power of men are youts: 
+So farewell, Talbot; I ‘ll no longer trust thee. 
+Puc. [Aside] Done like a Frenchman: 
+turn, and turn again! 
+Char. Welcome, brave duke! thy friend- 
+ship makes us fresh. 
+Bast. And doth beget new courage in our 
+breasts. 
+Alen. Pucelle hath bravely play’d her part 
+in. this, 
+And doth deserve a coronet of gold. 
+Char. Now let us on, my lords, and join 
+our powers 
+And seek how we may prejudice the foe. 
+[Exeunt. 
+Scene IV. Paris. The palace 
+Enter the Kinc, GLoucester, BISHOP OF 
+WINCHESTER, YORK, SUFFOLK. SOMERSET, 
+Warwick, Exeter: VERNON, Basset, and 
+others. To them with his Soldiers, TaLBor, 
+
+
+Tal. My gracious prince, and honourable 
+peers, 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. I] 
+
+
+FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+597 
+
+
+Hearing of your arrival in this realm, 
+I have awhile given truce unto my wars, 
+To do my duty to my sovereign: 
+In sign whereof, this arm, that hath reclaim’d 
+To your obedience fifty fortresses, 
+Twelvecities and seven walled towns of strength, 
+Beside five hundred prisoners of esteem, 
+Lets fall his word before your highness’ feet, 
+And with submissive loyalty of heart 10 
+Ascribes the glory of his conquest got 
+First to my God and next unto your grace. 
+[Kneels. 
+King. Is this the Lord Talbot, uncle Glou- 
+cester, 
+That hath so long been resident in France? 
+Glou. Yes, if it please your majesty, my 
+liege. 
+King. Welcome, brave captain and vic- 
+torious lord! 
+When I was young, as yet | am not old, 
+I do remember how my father said 
+A stouter champion never handled sword. 
+{ong since we were resolved of your truth, 20 
+Your faithful service and your toil in war; 
+Yet never have you tasted our reward, 
+Or been reguerdon'd with so much as thanks, 
+Because till now we never saw your face: 
+Therefore, stand up; and, for these good deserts, 
+We here create you Earl of Shrewsbury; 
+And in our coronation take your place. 
+
+
+[Sennet. Flourish, Exeunt all but Vernon 
+and Basset. 
+Ver. Now, sir, to you, that were so hot at 
+
+
+sea, 
+
+Disgracing of these colours that I wear 
+
+In honour of my noble Lord of York: 30 
+
+Darest thou maintain the former words thou 
+spakest ? 
+
+Bas. Yes, sir; as well as you dare patronage 
+The envious barking of your saucy tongue 
+Against my lord the Duke of Somerset. 
+
+Ver. Sirrah, thy lord I honour as he is. 
+
+Bas. Why, what is he? as good a man as 
+
+York. 
+
+Ver. Hark ye: not so: in witness, take ye 
+
+that. [Strikes him. 
+
+Bas. Villain, thou know’st the law of arms 
+
+is such 
+That whoso draws a sword, ‘tis present death, 
+Or else this blow should broach thy dearest 
+blood. 40 
+But I'll unto his majesty, and crave 
+| may have liberty to venge this wrong; 
+When thou shalt see I"!l meet thee to thy 
+cost. 
+Ver. Well, miscreant, I'll be there as soon 
+as you; 
+And, after, meet you sooner than you would. 
+¢Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT IV. 
+
+
+Scene I. Paris. A hall of state. 
+
+
+Enter the Kinc, GLoucesTerR, BisHoPp oF 
+WINCHESTER, YORK, SUFFOLK, SOMERSET, 
+Warwick, TaLsot, ExeTER, the Governor 
+of Paris, and others. 
+
+
+Glou. Lord bishop, set the crown upon his 
+head. 
+Win. God save King Henry, of that name 
+the sixth! 
+Glou. Now, governor of Paris, take your 
+oath, 
+That you elect no other king but him; 
+Esteem none friends but such as are his friends, 
+And none your foes but such as shall pretend 
+Malicious practices against his state: 
+This shall ye do, so help you righteous God! 
+
+
+Enter Sir JOHN FAsToLre. 
+
+
+Fast. My gracious sovereign, as I rode 
+from Calais, 
+To haste unto your coronation, 
+A letter was deliver’d to my hands, 
+Writ to your grace from the Duke of Burgundy. 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+Tal. Shame to the Duke of Burgundy and 
+thee! 
+
+I vow'd, base knight, when I did meet thee 
+next, 
+
+
+To tear the garter from thy craven’s leg, 
+[Plucking it off. 
+Which I have done, because unworthily 
+Thou wast installed in that high degree. 
+Pardon me, princely Henry and the rest: 
+This dastard, at the battle of Patay, 
+When but in all I was six thousand strong 20 
+And that the French were almost ten to one, 
+Before we met or that a stroke was given, 
+Like to a trusty squire did run away: 
+In which assault we lost twelve hundred men; 
+Myself and divers gentlement beside 
+Were there surprised and taken prisoners. 
+Then judge, great lords, if I have done amiss; 
+Or whether that such cowards ought to wear 
+This ornament of knighthood, yea or no. 
+Glou. To say the truth, this fact was in- 
+famous 30 
+And ill beseeming any common man, “ 
+Much more a knight, a captam and a leader. 
+Tal. When first this order was ordain’d, 
+my lords, 
+Knights of the garter were of noble birth, 
+Valiant and virtuous, full of haughty courage, 
+Such as were grown to credit by the wars; 
+Not fearing death, nor shrinking for distress. 
+But always resolute in most extremes. 
+He then that is not furnish’d in this sort 
+Doth but usurp the sacred name of knight, 40 
+Profaning this most honourable order, 
+
+
+\ be 
+\ hee Ret 
+
+
+598 FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+And should, if I were worthy to be judge, 
+
+
+Be quite degraded, like a hedge-born swain | _ 
+
+
+That doth presume to boast of gentle blood. 
+King. Stain to thy countrymen, thou hear’st 
+thy doom! 
+Be packing, therefore, thou that wast a knight: 
+Henceforth we banish thee, on pain of death. 
+[Exit Fastolfe. 
+And now, my lord protector, view the letter 
+Sent from our uncle Duke of Burgundy. 
+Glou. What means his grace, that he hath 
+changed his style? 50 
+No more but, plain and bluntly, “To the king!’ 
+Hath he forgot he is his sovereign? 
+Or doth this churlish superscription 
+Pretend some alteration in good will? 
+What's here [Reads] ‘I have, upon especial 
+cause, 
+Moved with compassion of my country’s wreck, 
+Together with the pitiful complaints 
+Of such as your oppression feeds upon, 
+Forsaken your pernicious faction 
+And join’d with Charles, the rightful King of 
+France.’ 60 
+O monstrovs treachery! can this be so, 
+That in alliance, amity and oaths, 
+There should be found such false dissembling 
+guile? : 
+King. What! doth my uncle Burgundy 
+revolt > 
+Glou. He doth, my lord, and is become 
+your foe. 
+King. Is that the worst this letter doth con- 
+tain > 
+Glou. It is the worst, and all, my lord, he 
+writes. 
+
+
+King. Why, then, Lord Talbot there shall 
+talk with him 
+And give him chastisement for this abuse. 
+How say you, my lord? are you not content? 
+Tal. Content, my liege! yes, but that | am 
+prevented, 
+I should have begg’d I might have been em- 
+ploy’d. 
+King. Then gather strength and march 
+unto him straight: 
+Let him perceive how ill we brook his treason 
+And what offence it is to flout his friends. 
+Tal. 1 go, my lord, in heart desiring still 
+You may behold confusion of your foes. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+Enter VERNON and BasseET. 
+Ver. Grant the 
+
+
+sovereign. 
+
+Bas. And me, my lord, grant me the com- 
+bat too. 
+
+York. This is my servant: hear him, noble 
+prince. 80 
+
+
+me combat, gracious 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+Som. And this is mine: sweet Henry, 
+favour him. 
+King. Be patient, 
+leave to speak. 
+Say, gentlemen, what makes you thus exclaim? 
+And wherefore crave you combat? or with 
+whom > 
+Ver. With him, my lord; for he hath done 
+me wrong. 
+Bas. And I with him; for he hath done 
+me wrong. 
+King. What is that wrong whereof you 
+' both complain? 
+First let me know, and then [| ‘Il answer you. 
+Bas. Crossing the sea from. England into 
+France, 
+This fellow here, with envious carping tongue, 
+Upbraided me about the rose 1 wear; 9 
+Saying, the sanguine colour of the leaves 
+Did represent my master’s blushing cheeks, 
+When stubbornly he did repugn the truth 
+About a certain question in the law 
+Argued betwixt the Duke of York and him; 
+With other vile and ignominious terms: 
+In confutation of which rude reproach 
+And in defence of my lord’s worthiness, 
+
+I crave the benefit of law of arms. 100 
+Ver. And that is my petition, noble lord: 
+For though he seem with forged quaint conceit 
+
+To set a gloss upon his bold intent, 
+Yet know, my lord, I was provoked by him; 
+And he first took exceptions at this badge, 
+Pronouncing that the paleness of this flower 
+Bewray’d the faintness of my master’s heart. 
+York. Will not this malice, Somerset, be left? 
+Som. Your private grudge, my Lord of 
+York, will out, 
+Though ne'er so cunningly you smother it. 110 
+King. Good Lord, what madness rules in 
+brainsick men, 
+When for so slight and frivolous a cause 
+Such factious emulations shall arise! 
+Good cousins both, of York and Somerset, 
+Quiet yourselves, I pray, and be-at peace. 
+York. Let this dissension first be tried by 
+fight, 
+And then yourhighness shall command a peace. 
+Som. The quarrel toucheth none but us 
+alone; 
+Betwixt ourselves let us decide it then. 
+York. There is my pledge; accept it, 
+Somerset. 120 
+Ver. Nay, let it rest where it began at first. 
+Bas. Confirm it so, mine honourable lord. 
+Glou. Confirm it so! Confounded be your 
+strife! ; 
+And perish ye, with your audacjous prate! 
+Presumptuous vassals, are you not ashamed 
+With this immodest clamorous outrage 
+
+
+lords; and give them 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. $ 
+
+
+¥ 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc, I] 
+
+
+$y 
+
+
+FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+598 
+
+
+To trouble and disturb the king and us? 
+And you, my lords, methinks you do not well 
+To bear with their perverse objections; 
+Much less to take occasion from their mouths 
+To raise a mutiny betwixt yourselves: 131 
+Let me persuade you take a better course. 
+Exe. It grieves his highness: good my 
+lords, be friends. 
+King. Come hither, you that would be 
+combatants: 
+Henceforth I charge you, as you love our 
+favour, 
+Quite to forget this quarrel and the cause. 
+And you, my lords, remember where we are; 
+In France, amongst a fickle wavering nation: 
+If they perceive dissension in our looks 
+And that within ourselves we disagree, 140 
+How will their grudging stomachs be provoked 
+To wilful disobedience, and rebel! 
+Beside, what infamy will there arise, 
+When foreign princes shall be certified 
+That for a toy, a thing of no regard, 
+King Henry’s peers and chief nobility 
+Destroy’d themselves, and lost the realm of 
+France! 
+O, think upon the conquest of my father, 
+My tender years, and let us not forego 
+That for a trifle that was bought with blood! 
+Let me be umpire in this doubtful strife. 151 
+I see no reason, if I wear this rose, 
+[Putting on a red rose. 
+That any one should therefore be suspicious 
+I more incline to Somerset than York; 
+Both are my kinsmen, and I love them both: 
+As well they may upbraid me with my crown, 
+Because, forsooth, the king of Scots is crown’d. 
+But your discretions better can persuade 
+Than I am able to instruct or teach: 
+And therefore, as we hither came in peace, 
+So let us still continue peace and love. 
+Cousin of York, we institute your grace 
+To be our regent in these parts of France: 
+And, good my Lord of Somerset, unite 
+Your troops of horsemen with his bands of foot; 
+And, like true subjects,sons of your progenitors, 
+Go cheerfully together and digest 
+Your angry choler on your enemies. 
+Ourself, my lord protector and the rest 
+After some respite will return to Calais; 170 
+From thence to England; where I hope ere long 
+To be presented, by your victories, 
+With Charles, Alencon and that traitorous rout. 
+[Fleurish. Exeunt all but York, Warwick, 
+Exeter and Vernon. 
+War. My Lord of York, I promise you, 
+the king 
+Prettily, methpught, did play the orator. 
+York. And so he did; but yet I like it not, 
+Tn that he wears the badge of Somerset. 
+
+
+War. Tush, that was but his fancy, blame 
+
+
+him not; 
+I dare presume, sweet prince, he thought ne 
+harm. 17S 
+
+
+York. An if I wist he did,—but let it rest: 
+Other affairs must now be managed. 
+[Exeunt all but Exeter. 
+Exe. Well didst thou, Richard, to suppress 
+thy voice; 
+For, had the passions of thy heart burst out, 
+I fear we should have seen decipher'd there 
+More rancorous spite, more furious raging 
+broils, 
+Than yet can be imagined or supposed. 
+But howsoe’er no simple man that sees 
+This jarring discord of nobility, 
+This shouldering of each other in the court, 
+This factious bandying of their favourites, 
+But that it doth presage some ill event. 
+"Tis much when sceptres are in children's 
+hands; 
+But more when envy breeds unkind division; 
+There comes the ruin, there begins confusion. 
+
+
+[ Exit, 
+Scene II. Before Bourdeaux. 
+Enter Tatsot, with trump and drum. 
+
+
+Tal. Go to the gates of Bourdeaux, trum- 
+peter; 
+Summon their general unto the wall. 
+
+
+Enter General and others, 
+aloft. 
+
+
+English John Talbot, captains, calls you fortt, 
+Servant in arms to Harry King of England; 
+And thus he would: Open your city gates: 
+Be humble to us; call my sovereign yours, 
+And do him homage as obedient subjects; 
+And I'll withdraw me and my bloody power: 
+But, if you frown upon this proffer’d peace, 
+You tempt the fury of my three attendants, 70 
+ee famine, quartering steel, and climbing 
+re; 
+
+Who in a moment even with the earth 
+Shall lay your stately and air-braving towers, 
+If you forsake the offer of their love 
+
+Gen. Thou ominous and fearful owl of 
+
+death, 
+Our nation’s terror and their bloody scourge! 
+The period of thy tyranny approacheth. 
+On us thou canst not enter but by death; 
+For, I protest, we are well fortified 
+And strong enough to issue out and fight: 
+If thou retire, the Dauphin, well appointed, 
+Stands with the snares of war to tangle thee: 
+On either hand thee there are squadrons 
+pitch’d, 
+
+To wall thee from the liberty of flight; 
+
+
+j And no way canst thou turn thee for redress, 
+
+
+Trumpet sounds. 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+But death doth front thee with apparent spoil 
+And pale destruction meets thee in the face. 
+Ten thousand French have ta’en the sacrament 
+To rive their dangerous artillery 
+Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot. 
+Lo, there thou -stand’st, a breathing valiant 
+man, 
+Of an invincible unconquer’d spirit! 
+This is the latest glory of thy praise 
+That I, thy enemy, due thee withal; 
+For ere the glass, that now begins to run, 
+Finish the process.of his sandy hour, 
+These eyes, that see thee now well coloured, 
+Shall see thee wither’d, bloody, pale and dead. 
+[Crum afar off. 
+Hark! hark! the Dauphin’s drum, a warning 
+bell, 
+Sings heavy music to thy timorous soul; 40 
+And mine shall ring thy dire departure out. 
+[Exeunt General, &c. 
+Tal. He fables not; I hear the enemy: 
+Qut, some light horsemen, and peruse their 
+wings. 
+O, negligent and heedless discipline! 
+How are we park’d and bounded in a pale, 
+A little herd of England’s timorous deer, 
+Mazed with a yelping kennel of French curs! 
+If we be English deer, be then in blood; 
+Not rascal-like, to fall down with a pinch, 
+But rather, moody-mad and desperate stags, 50 
+Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel 
+And make the cowards stand aloof at bay: 
+Sell every man his life as dear as mine, 
+And they shall find dear deer of us, my friends. 
+God and Saint George, Talbot and England's 
+
+
+night, 
+Prosper our colours in this dangerous fight! 
+[Exeunt. 
+Scene Ill. Plains in Gascony. 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger that meets YorK. Enter 
+York with trumpet and many Soldiers. 
+
+
+York. Are not the speedy scouts return'd 
+again,- i 
+That dogg’d the mighty army of the Dauphin? 
+Mess. They are return’d, my lord, and 
+give it out 
+That he is march’d to Bourdeaux with his 
+power, 
+To fight with Talbot: as he march’'d along, 
+By your espials were discovered 
+Two mightier troops than that the Dauphin led, 
+Which joined with him and made their march 
+for Bourdeaux. 
+
+York: A plague upon that villain Somerset, 
+That thus delays my promised supply 10 
+Of horsemen, that were levied for this siege! 
+Renowned Talbot doth expect my aid, 
+
+
+FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. Ii 
+
+
+And I am lowted by a traitor villain 
+And cannot help the noble chevalier: 
+God comfort him in this necessity! 
+
+If he miscarry, farewell wars in France. 
+
+
+Enter Sir Wituiam Lucy. 
+
+
+Lucy. Thou princely leader of our English 
+strength, 
+Never so needful on the earth of France, 
+Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot, 
+Who now is girdled with a waist of iron 
+And hemm'd about with grim destruction: 
+To Bourdeaux, warlike duke! to Bourdeaux, 
+York! 
+Else, farewell Talbot, France, and England’s 
+honour. ; 
+York. O God, that Somerset, who in proud 
+heart 
+Doth stop my cornets, were in Talbot's place! 
+So should we save a valiant gentleman 
+By forfeiting a traitor and a coward. 
+Mad ire and wrathful fury makes me weep, 
+That thus we die, while remiss traitors sleep. 
+Lucy. O, send some succor to the dis- 
+tress’'d lord! 
+York. He dies, we lose; I break my war- 
+like word; 
+We mourn, France smiles; we lose, they daily 
+get; 
+All ‘long of this vile traitor Somerset. 
+Lucy. Then God take mercy on brave 
+Talbot's soul; 
+And on his son young John, who two hours 
+since . 
+I met in travel toward his warlike father! 
+This seven years did not Talbot see his son; 
+And now they meet where both their lives are 
+done. 
+York. Alas, what joy shall noble Talbot 
+have 
+To bid his young son welcome to his grave? 40 
+Away! vexation almost stops my breath, 
+That sunder’d friends greet in the hour of 
+death. 
+Lucy, farewell: no more my fortune can, 
+But curse the cause I cannot aid the man. 
+Maine, Blois, Poictiers, and Tours, are won 
+away, 
+‘Long all of Somerset and his delay. 
+[Exit, with his soldiers. 
+Lucy. Thus, while the vulture of sedition 
+Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders, 
+Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss 
+The conquest of our scarce cold conqueror, 50 
+That ever living man of memory, 
+Henry the Fifth: whiles they each other cross, 
+Lives, honovss, lands and all hurry to loss. 
+
+
+[ Exit. 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+of 
+
+
+FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+Scene IV. Other plains in Gascony. 
+
+
+Enter Somerset, with his army; a Captain 
+of TatBot’s with him. 
+
+
+Som. It is too late; I cannot send them 
+now: 
+This expedition was by York and Talbot 
+Too rashly plotted: all our general force 
+Might with a sally of the very town 
+Be buckled with: the over-daring Talbot 
+Hath sullied all his gloss of former honour 
+By this unheedful, desperate, wild adventure: 
+York set him on to fight and die in shame, 
+That, Talbot dead, great York might bear the 
+name. 
+Cap. Here is Sir William Lucy, who with 
+me 
+Set from our o’ermatch’d forces forth for aid. 
+
+
+Enter Sin Wituiam Lucy. 
+
+
+Som. How now, Sir William! whither 
+were you sent? 
+Lucy. Whither, my lord? from bought and 
+sold Lord Talbot; 
+Who, ring’d about with bold adversity, 
+Cries out for noble York and Somerset, 
+To beat assailing death from his weak legions: 
+And whiles the honourable captain there 
+~ Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied 
+limbs, 
+And, in advantage lingering, looks for rescue, 
+You, his false hopes, the trust of England’s 
+honour, 20 
+Keep off aloof with worthless emulation. 
+Let not your private discord keep away 
+The levied succors that should lend him aid, 
+While he, renowned noble gentleman, 
+Yields up his life unto a world of odds: 
+Orleans the Bastard, Charles, Burgundy, 
+Alencon, Reignier, compass him about, 
+And Talbot perisheth by your default. 
+Som. York set him on; York should have 
+sent him aid. 
+Lucy. And York as fast upon your grace 
+exclaims; 
+Swearing that you withhold his levied host, 
+Collected for this expedition. 
+Som. York lies; he might have sent 
+had the horse; 
+I owe him little duty, and less love; 
+And take foul scorn to fawn on him by sending. 
+Lucy. The fraud of England, not the force 
+of France, 
+Hath now entrapp'd the noble-minded Talbot: 
+Never to England shall he bear his life; 
+But dies, betray’d to fortune by your strife. 
+Som. Come, go; I will dispatch the horse- 
+men straight: 40 
+Within six hours they will be at his aid. 
+
+
+and 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI 601 
+Lucy. Too late comes rescue: he is ta’en or 
+slain; 
+For fly he could not, if he would have fled; 
+And fly would Talbot never, though he might. 
+Som. If he be dead, brave Talbot, - then 
+adieu! 
+Lucy. His fame lives in the world, his 
+shame in you. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene V. The English camp near Bourdeaux, 
+Enter Tatsor and Joun, his son. 
+Tal. O young John Talbot! I did send for 
+thee 
+To tutor thee in stratagems of war, 
+That Talbot's name might be in thee revived 
+When sapless age and weak unable limbs 
+Should bring thy father to his drooping chair. 
+But, O malignant and ill-boding stars! 
+ow thou art come unto a feast of death, 
+A terrible and unavoided danger: 
+Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftes? 
+
+
+horse; 
+And I'll direct thee how thou shalt escape 10 
+By sudden flight: come, dally not, be gone, 
+John. Is my name Talbot? and am I your 
+
+
+son? 
+And shall I fly? O, if you love my mother, 
+Dishonour not her honourable name, 
+To make a bastard and a slave of me! 
+The world will say, he is not Talbot's blood, 
+That basely fled when noble Talbot stood. 
+Tal. Fly, to revenge my death, if I be slain. 
+John. He that flies so will ne'er return 
+again. 
+Tal. If we both stay, we both are sure to 
+
+
+ie. 20 
+John. Then let me stay; and, father, do 
+you fly: 
+Your loss is great, so your regard should be; 
+My worth unknown, no loss is known in me. 
+Upon my death the French can little boast; 
+In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost. 
+Flight cannot stain the honour you have 
+won; : 
+But mine it will, that no exploit have done: 
+You fled for vantage, every one will swear; 
+But, if I bow, they ‘ll say it was for fear. 
+There is no hope that ever I will stay, 30 
+If the first hour I shrink and run away. 
+Here on my knee I beg mortality, 
+Rather than life preserved with infamy. 
+Tal. Shall all thy mother’s hopes lie in one 
+tomb? 
+John. Ay, rather than I'll shame my 
+mother’s womb. ; 
+Tal. Upon my blessing, I command thee 20. 
+John. To fight I will. but not to fly the foe, 
+Tal. Part of thy father may’ be sayed in 
+thee. 
+
+
+fi)2 FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+john. No part of him but will be shame in 
+
+
+me. 
+Tal. Thou never hadst renown, nor canst 
+not lose it. : 40 
+John. Yes, your renowned name: shall 
+flight abuse it? 
+Tal. Thy father’s charge shall clear thee 
+from that stain. 
+John. You cannot witness for me, being 
+slain. 
+if death be so apparent, then both fly. 
+Tal. And leave my followers here to fight 
+~ and die? 
+My age was never tainted with such shame. 
+John. And shall my youth be guilty of 
+such blame? 
+No more can I be sever’d from your side, 
+Than can yourself yourself in twain divide: 
+Stay, go, do what you will, the like do I; 
+For live I will not, if my father die. 
+Tal. Then here I take my leave of thee, 
+fair son, 
+Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon. 
+Come, side by side together live and die; 
+
+
+50 
+
+
+And soul with soul from France to heaven fly, 
+
+
+[Exeunt. 
+Scene VI. A fleld of battle. 
+
+
+Alarum: excursions, wherein TALBOT's Son is 
+hemmed about, and TaLsoT rescues him. 
+' Tal. Saint George and victory! fight, sol- 
+diers, fight: 
+The regent hath with Talbot broke his word 
+And left us to the rage of France his sword. 
+Where is John Talbot? Pause, and take thy 
+breath; 
+I gave thee life and rescued thee from death. 
+John. O, twice my father, twice am I thy 
+son! 
+The life thou gavest me first was lost and done, 
+Till with thy warlike sword, despite of fate, 
+To my determined time thou gavest new date. 
+Tal. When from the Dauphin’s crest thy 
+sword struck fire, 10 
+It warm’d thy father’s heart with proud desire 
+Of bold-faced victory. Then leaden age, 
+Quicken’d with youthful spleen and warlike 
+rage, 
+Beat down Alencon, Orleans, Burgundy, 
+And from the pride of Gallia rescued thee. 
+The ireful bastard Orleans, that drew blood 
+From thee, my boy, and had the maidenhood 
+Of thy first fight, I soon encountered, 
+And interchanging blows I quickly shed 
+Some of his bastard blood; and in disgrace 20 
+Bespoke him thus; “Contaminated, base 
+And misbegotten blood I spill of thine, 
+Mean and right poor, for that pure blood of 
+mine 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI [Act IV, Se. VIi 
+
+
+Which thou didst force from Talbot, my brave 
+boy: 
+Here, purposing the Bastard to destroy, 
+Came in strong rescue. Speak, thy father’s 
+care, 
+Art thou not weary, John? how dost thou fare? 
+Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly, 
+Now thou art seal'd the son of chivalry ? 
+Fly, to revenge my death when I am dead: 30 
+The help of one stands me in little stead. 
+O, too much folly is it, well I wot, 
+To hazard all our lives in one small boat! 
+If I to-day die not with Frenchmen’s rage, 
+To-morrow I shall die with mickle age: 
+By me they nothing gain an if I stay; 
+Tis but the shortening of my life one day: 
+In thee thy mother dies, our household's name, 
+My death’s revenge, thy youth, and England's 
+fame: 
+All these and more we hazard by thy stay; 40 
+All these are saved if thou wilt fly away. 
+John. The sword of Orleans hath not made 
+me smart; 
+These words of yours draw life-blood from 
+my heart: 
+On that advantage, bought with such a shame, 
+To save a paltry life and slay bright fame, 
+Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly, 
+The coward horse that bears me fall and die! _ 
+And like me to the peasant boys of France, 
+To be shame’s scorn and subject of mischance! 
+Surely, by all the glory you have won, 50 
+An if I fly, I am not Talbot's son: 
+Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot; 
+If son to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot. 
+Tal. Then follow thou thy desperate sire 
+of Crete, 
+Thou Icarus; thy life to me is sweet: 
+If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father’s side; 
+And, commendable proved, let's die in pride. 
+[Exeunt 
+
+
+Scene VII. Another part of the field. 
+
+
+Alarum: excursions. Enter old TALBOT 
+led by a Servant. 
+Tal. Where is my other life? mine owr 
+is gone; 
+O, where's young Talbot? where is valiant 
+John? 
+Triumphant death, smear’d with captivity, 
+Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee: 
+When he perceived me shrink and on my knee. 
+His bloody sword he brandish'd over me, 
+And, like a hungry lion, did commence 
+Rough deeds of rage and stern impatience; 
+But when my angry*guardant stood alone, 
+Tendering my ruin and assail’d of none, 
+Dizzy-eyed fury and great rage of heart 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+| Suddenly made him from my side to start * 
+
+
+oe 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+Act IV, Se. VII] 
+
+
+FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+Into the clustering battle of the French; 
+And in that sea of blood my boy did drench 
+His over-mounting spirit, and there died, 
+My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride. 
+Serv. O my dear lord, lo, where your son 
+is borne! 
+
+
+Enter Soldiers, with the body of young TALBOT. 
+
+
+Tal. Thou antic death, which laugh’st us 
+here to scorn, 
+Anon, from thy insulting tyranny, : 
+Coupled in bonds of perpetuity, 20 
+Two Talbots, winged through the lither sky, 
+In thy despite shall ‘scape mortality. 
+O thou, whose wounds become hard-favour’d 
+death, 
+Speak to thy father ere thou yield thy breath! 
+Brave death by speaking, whether he will or 
+no; 
+Imagine him a Frenchman, and thy foe. 
+Poor boy! he smiles, methinks, as who should 
+
+
+say, 
+Had death been French, then death had died 
+to-day. ; 
+Come, come and lay him in his father’s arms: 
+My spirit can no longer bear these harms. 30 
+Soldiers, adieu! I have what I would have, 
+Now my old arms are young John Talbot's 
+grave, [Dies. 
+
+
+Enter Cuartes, ALENCoNn, Burcunpy, Bas- 
+TARD, LA PucELLe, and forces. 
+
+
+Char. Had York and Somerset brought 
+rescue in, 
+We should have found a bloody day of this. 
+~ Bast. How the young whelp of Talbot's, 
+raging-wood, 
+Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen’s 
+
+
+blood! 
+Puc. Once | encounter’d him, and thus I 
+
+said: 
+“Thou maiden youth, be vanquish’d by a 
+
+maid:’ 
+
+
+But, with a proud majestical high scorn, 
+He answer’d thus: “Young Talbot was not 
+born 40 
+To be the pillage of a giglot wench:’ : 
+So, rushing in the bowels of the French, 
+He left me proudly, as unworthy fight. 
+Bur. Doubtless he would have made a no- 
+blee knight: 
+See, where he lies inhearsed in the arms 
+Of the most bloody nurser of his harms! 
+Bast. Hew them to pieces, hack their 
+bones asunder, 
+Whose life was England’s glory, Gallia’s 
+wonder. 
+Char. O, no, forbear! for that which we 
+have fled 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI 603 
+During the life, let us not wrong it dead. 50 
+
+
+Enter Sir Witiiam Lucy, aitended; Herald 
+of the French preceding, 
+
+
+Lucy. Herald, conduct me to the Dau- 
+
+
+phin’s tent, 
+To know who hath obtain'd the glory of the 
+day. 
+Char. On what submissive message art thou 
+sent? 
+
+
+Lucy. Submission, Dauphin! ‘tis a mere 
+French word; 
+We English warriors wot not what it means, 
+I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta’en 
+And to survey the bodies of the dead. 
+Char. For prisoners ask’st thou? hell our 
+prison is. 
+But tell me whom thou seek’st. 
+Lucy. But where’s the great Alcides of 
+the field, 
+Valiant Lord Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, 
+Created, for his rare success in arms, 
+Great Earl of Washford, Waterford and 
+Valence; 
+Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield, 
+Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdum of 
+Alton, 
+Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, Lord Furnival 
+of Sheffield, 
+The thrice victorious Lord of Falconbridge; 
+Knight of the noble order of Saint George, 
+Worthy Saint Michael and the Golden Fleece; 
+Great marshal to Henry the Sixth 70 
+Of all his wars within the realm of France? 
+Puc. Here is a silly stately style indeed! 
+The Turk, that two and fifty kingdoms hath, 
+Writes not so tedious a style as this. 
+Him that thou magnifiest with all these titles 
+Stinking and fly-blown lies here at our feet. 
+Lucy. Is Talbot slain, the Frenchmen’s 
+only scourge, 
+Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis? 
+O, were mine eye-balls into bullets turn’d, 
+That I in rage might shoot them at your faces! 
+O, that I could but call these dead to life! 81 
+It were enough to fright the realm of France: 
+Were but his picture left amongst you here, 
+It would amaze the proudest of you all. 
+Give me their bodies, that I may bear them 
+hence 
+And give them burial as beseems their worth. 
+
+
+Puc. 1 think this upstart is old Talbot's 
+
+
+ghost, 
+
+He speaks with such a proud commanding 
+spirit. 
+
+For God's sake, let him have ‘em; to keep 
+them here, 
+
+
+They would but stink, and putrefy the air. 90 
+Char. Go, take their bodies hence. 
+
+
+604 
+
+
+FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+[Acr V, Se. Il 
+
+
+Lucy. I'll bear them hence; but from their 
+ashes shall be rear’d 
+A pheenix that shall make all France afeard. 
+Char. So we be rid of them, do with ’em 
+what thou wilt. 
+And now to Paris, in this conquering vein 
+All will be ours, now bloody Talbot's slain. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT V. 
+
+
+Scene I. London. The palace. 
+
+
+Enter Kinc, GLOUCESTER, and 
+EXETER. 
+
+
+King. Have you perused the letters from 
+the pope, 
+The emperor and the Earl of Armagnac? 
+Glou. I have, my lord: and their intent is 
+this: 
+They humbly sue unto your excellence 
+To have a godly peace concluded of 
+Between the realms of England and of France. 
+King. How doth your grace affect their 
+motion ? 
+Glou. Well, my good lord; and as the 
+only means 
+To stop effusion of our Christian blood 
+And stablish quietness on every side. 10 
+King. Ay, marry, uncle; for I always 
+thought 
+It was both impious and unnatural 
+That such immanity and bloody strife 
+Should reign among professors of one faith. 
+Glou. Beside, my lord, the sooner to effect 
+And surer bind this knot of amity, 
+The Earl of Armagnac, near knit to Charles, 
+A man of great authority in France, 
+Proffers his only daughter to your grace 
+In marriage, with a large and sumptuous 
+
+
+Sennet, 
+
+
+dowry. 20 
+King. Marriage, uncle! alas, my years are 
+young! 
+
+
+And fitter is my study and my books 
+
+‘Than wanton dalliance with a paramour, 
+Yet call the ambassadors; and, as you please, 
+So let ther have their answers every one: 
+
+1 shall be wel! content with any choice 
+Tends to God's glory and my country’s weal. 
+
+
+Enter WINCHESTER in Cardinal's habit, a 
+Legate and two Ambassadors. 
+
+
+Exe. What! is my Lord of Winchester in- 
+stall’d, 
+And call’d unto a cardinal’s degree? 
+Then | perceive that will be verified 
+Henry the Fifth did sometime prophesy, 
+“If once he come to be a cardinal, 
+He ’ll make his cap co-equal with the crown.’ 
+King. My lords ambassadors, your several 
+suits 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+Have been consider’d and debated on. 
+Your purpose is both good and reasonable; 
+And therefore are we certainly resolved 
+To draw conditions of a friendly peace; 
+Which by my Lord of Winchester we mean 
+Shall be transported presently to France. 40 
+Glou. And for the proffer of my lord your 
+master, 
+I have inform’d his highness so at large 
+As liking of the lady’s virtuous gifts, 
+Her beauty and the value of her dower, 
+He doth intend she shall be England’s queen. 
+King. In argument and proof of which 
+contract, 
+Bear her this jewel, pledge of my affection. 
+And so, my lord protector, see them guarded 
+And safely brought to Dover; where inshipp’d 
+Commit them to the fortune of the sea. 50 
+[Exeunt all but Winchester and Legate, 
+Win. Stay, my lord legate: you shall first 
+receive 
+The sum of money which I promised 
+Should be deliver'd to his holiness 
+For clothing me in these grave ornaments. 
+Leg. 1 will attend upon your lordship's 
+leisure. 
+Win. [Aside] Now Winchester will not 
+submit, I trow, 
+Ox be inferior to the proudest peer. 
+Humphrey of Gloucester, thou shalt well 
+perceive 
+That, neither in birth or for authority, 
+The bishop will be overborne by thee: 60 
+I'll either make thee stoop and bend thy knee, 
+Or sack this cotintry with a mutiny. [Exeunt. 
+Plains in Anjou. 
+
+
+Scene Il. France. 
+
+
+Enter CuarLes, Burcunpy, ALENcoN, Bas- 
+TARD, REIGNIER, La PucELLE and forces. 
+
+
+Char. These news, my lords, may cheer our 
+drooping spirits: 
+"Tis said the stout Parisians do revolt 
+And turn again unto the warlike French. 
+Alen. Then march to Paris, royal Charles 
+of France, 
+And keep not back your powers in dalliance. 
+Puc. Peace be amongst them, if they turn 
+to us; 
+Else, ruin combat with their palaces! 
+
+
+Enter Scout. 
+
+
+Scout. Success unto our valiant general, 
+And happiness to his accomplices! 
+Char. What tidings send our scouts? [| 
+prithee, speak. 10 
+Scout. The English army, that divided was 
+Into two parties, is now conjoin’d in one, 
+And means to give you battle presently. 
+
+
+: 
+
+
+ou 
+Get 
+
+
+ii 
+
+
+Clakad salva ina 
+
+
+5: Hee ea ces 
+
+
+he 
+
+
+"Act V,Sc. Ill] FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+Char. Somewhat too sudden, sirs, the warn- 
+ing is, 
+But we will presently provide for them. 
+Bur. 1 trust the ghost of Talbot is not 
+there: 
+Now he is gone, my lord, you need not fear. 
+Puc. Of all base passions, fear is most 
+accursed, 
+Command the conquest, Charles, it shall be 
+thine, 
+Let Henry fret and all.the world repine. 20 
+Char. Then on, my lords; and France be 
+fortunate. [Exeuni. 
+
+
+Scene IJ. Before Angiers. 
+Alarum. Excursions. Enter La PuceELLE. 
+
+
+Puc. The regent conquers, and the French- 
+men fly. 
+Now help, ye charming spells and periapts; 
+And ye choice spirits that admonish me 
+And give me signs of future accidents. 
+
+
+[ Thunder. 
+
+
+: You speedy helpers, that are substitutes 
+
+
+Ee Oe eee eee 
+
+
+Under the lordly monarch of the north, 
+Appear and aid me in this enterprise. 
+
+
+Enter Fiends. 
+
+
+This speedy and quick appearance argues proof 
+OF your accustom’d diligence to me. 
+Now ye familiar spirits, that are cull’d 10 
+Out of the powerful regions under earth, 
+
+
+Help me this once, that France may get the 
+
+
+field. [They walk, and speak not. 
+O, hold me not with silence over-long! 
+Where I was wont to feed you with my blood, 
+I'll lop a member off and give it you 
+In earnest of a further benefit, 
+So you do condescend to help me now. 
+[They hang their heads. 
+No hope to have redress? My body shall 
+ay recompense, if you will grant my suit. 
+[They shake their heads. 
+Cannot my body nor blood-sacrifice 20 
+Entreat you to your wonted furtherance? 
+
+
+D Then ‘take my soul, my body, soul and all, 
+
+
+Before that England give the French the foil. 
+[They depart. 
+See, they forsake me! Now the time is come 
+That France must vail her 'ofty-plumed crest 
+And let her head fall into England's lap. 
+My ancient incantations are too weak, 
+And hell too strong for me to buckle with: 
+Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust. 
+[Exit. 
+Excursions. Re-enter LA PuceLie fighting 
+hand to hand with York: La PuceELLe is 
+taken. The French fly. 
+
+
+York. Damsel of France, I think | Be 
+
+
+vou fast: 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI 605 
+
+
+Unchain your spirits now with spelling charms 
+And try if they can gain your liberty. 
+A goodly prize, fit for the devil's grace! 
+See, how the ugly witch doth bend her brows, 
+As if with Circe she would change my shape! 
+Puc. Changed to a worser shape thou 
+canst not be. 
+York. O, Charles the Dauphin is a proper 
+man; 
+No shape but his can please your dainty eye. 
+Puc. A plaguing mischief light on Charles 
+and thee! 
+And may ye both be suddenly surprised 40 
+By bloody hands, in sleeping on your beds! 
+York. Fell banning hag, enchantress, hold 
+thy tongue! 
+Puc. 1 prithee, give me leave to curse 
+awhile. 
+York. Curse, miscreant, when thou comest 
+to the stake. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Alarum. Enter SuFFoLK, with MarcaRET 
+in his hand. 
+
+
+Suf. Be what thou wilt, thou art my 
+prisoner. [Gazes on her, 
+O fairest beauty, do not fear nor fly! 
+For I will touch thee but with reverent hands; 
+I kiss these fingers for eternal peace, 
+And lay them gently on thy tender side. 
+Who art thou? say, that I may honour thee.50 
+Mar. Margaret my name, and daughter te 
+a king, 
+The king of Naples, whosoe’er thou art. 
+Suf. An earl I am, and Suffolk am I call’d. 
+Be not offended, nature’s miracle, 
+Thou art allotted to be ta’en by me: 
+So doth the swan her downy cygnets save, 
+Keeping them prisoner underneath her wings. 
+Yet, if this servile usage once offend, 
+Go and be free again as Suffolk's friend. 
+[She is going. 
+O, stay! I have no power to let her pass; 60 
+My hand would free her, but my heart says no. 
+As plays the sun upon the glassy streams, 
+Twinkling another counterfeited beam, 
+So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes. 
+Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak: 
+I'll call for pen and ink, and write my mind. 
+Fie, de la Pole! disable not thyself; 
+Hast not a tongue? is she not here? 
+Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight? 
+Ay, beauty’s princely majesty is such, 70 
+Confounds the tongue and makes the senses 
+rough. 
+Mar. Say, Earl of Suffolk—if thy name 
+be so— 
+What ransom must I pay before I pass? 
+
+
+For I preceive I am thy prisone:. 
+
+
+$06 FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+Suf. How canst thou tell she will deny thy 
+sult, 
+Before thou make a trial of her love? 
+Mar. Why speak'st thou not? what ran- 
+som must I pay? 
+Suf. She's beautiful and therefore to be 
+woo'd; 
+She is a woman, therefore to be won. 
+Mar. Wilt thou accept of ransom? yea, 
+
+
+or no. 80 
+Suf. Fond man, remember that thou hast 
+a wife; 
+
+
+Then how can Margaret be thy paramour? 
+
+Mar. | were best to leave him, for he will 
+not hear. 
+
+Suf. There all is marr’d; there lies a 
+cooling card, 
+
+Mar. He talks at random; sure, the man is 
+mad. 
+
+Suf. And yet a dispensation may be had. 
+
+Mar. And yet I would that you would 
+
+
+answer me. 
+
+
+Suf. I'll win this Lady Margaret. For 
+whom ? 
+Why, for my king: tush, that’s a wooden 
+thing! 
+Mar. He talks of wood: it is some car- 
+penter. 
+Suf. Yetso my fancy may be satisfied, 91 
+
+
+And peace established between these realms. 
+But there remains a scruple in that too; 
+For though her father be the King of Naples, 
+Duke of Anjou and Maine, yet is he poor, 
+And our nobility will scorn the match. 
+
+Mar. Hear ye, captain, are you not at 
+
+
+leisure > 
+Suf. It shall be so, disdain they ne'er so 
+much: 
+Henry is youthful and will quickly yield. 
+Madam, I have a secret to reveal. 100 
+
+
+Mar. What though I be enthrall’d>? he 
+seems a knight, s 
+And will not any way dishonour me. 
+Suf. Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say. 
+Mar. Perhaps I shall be rescued by the 
+French; 
+And then I need not crave his courtesy. 
+Suf. Sweet madam, give me hearing in a 
+cause— 
+Mar. Tush, women have been captivate ere 
+now. 
+Suf. Lady, wherefore talk you so? 
+Mar. 1 cry you, mercy, ‘tis but Quid for 
+Quo. 
+Suf. Say, gentle princess, would you not 
+suppose 110 
+Your bondage happy to be made a queen? 
+rs To be a queen in bondage is more 
+vile 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI [Act V, Sc. lil 
+
+
+Than is a slave in base servility; 
+For princes should be free. 
+Suf. And so shall you, 
+If happy England's royal king be free. 
+ar. Why, what concerns his freedom 
+unto me? 
+Suf. I'll undertake to make thee Henry's 
+queen, 
+To put a golden sceptre in thy hand 
+And set a precious crown upon thy head, 
+If thou wilt condescend to be my— 
+Mar. What? 
+Suf. His love. 
+Mar.1 am unworthy to be Henry's wife. 
+Suf. No, gentle madam; I unworthy am 
+To woo so fair a dame to be his wife 
+And have no portion in the choice myself. 
+How say you, madam, are ye so content? 
+Mar. An if my father please, | am contents 
+Suf. Then call our captains and our col- 
+ours forth. 
+And madam, at your father’s castle walls 
+We ‘ll crave a parley, to confer with him. 130 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+A parley sounded. Enter REIGNIER on 
+the walls. 
+
+
+See, Reignier, see, thy daughter prisoner! 
+
+Reig. To whom? 
+
+Suf. To me. 
+
+Reig. Suffolk, what remedy? 
+I am a soldier and unapt to weep 
+Or to exclaim on fortune’s fickleness. 
+
+Suf. Yes, there is remedy enough, my lord: 
+Consent, and for thy honour give consent, 
+Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king; 
+Whom I with pain have woo’d and won 
+
+thereto; 
+And this her easy-held imprisonment 
+Hath gain’d thy daughter princely liberty. 140 
+
+Reig. Speaks Suffolk as he thinks > 
+
+Suf. Fair Margaret knows 
+That Suffolk doth not flatter, face, or feign. 
+
+Reig. Upon thy princely warrant, I descend 
+To give thee answer of thy just demand. 
+
+[Exit from the walls. 
+
+Suf. And here I will expect thy coming. 
+
+
+Trumpets sound. Enter REIGNIER, below. 
+
+
+Reig, Welcome, brave earl, into our terri- 
+tories: 
+Command in Anjou what your honour pleases. 
+Suf. Thanks, Reignier, happy for so sweet 
+a child, 
+Fit to be made companion with a king: 
+What answer makes your grace unto my svit? 
+Reig. Since thou dost deign to woo her 
+
+
+little worth 151 
+
+
+—— ee 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. IV] 
+
+
+FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+602 
+
+
+To be the princely bride of such a lord; 
+
+Upon condition I may quietly 
+
+Enjoy mine own, the country Maine and 
+
+Anjou, 
+
+Free from oppression or the stroke of war, 
+My daughter shall be Henry's, if he please. 
+Suf. That is her ransom; I deliver her; 
+
+And those two counties I will undertake 
+
+Your grace shall well and quietly enjoy. 
+Reig. And I again, in Henry’s royal name, 
+
+As deputy unto that gracious king, 161 
+
+Give thee her hand, for sign of plighted faith. 
+Suf. Reignier of France, I give thee kingly 
+
+thanks, 
+
+Because this is in traffic of a king. 
+
+[Aside] And yet, methinks, I could be well 
+
+content 
+
+To be mine own attorney in this case. 
+
+I'll over then to England with this news, 
+
+And make this marriage to be solemnized. 
+
+So farewell, Reignier: set this diamond safe 
+
+In golden palaces, as it becomes. 170 
+Reig. 1 do embrace thee, as I would em- 
+
+brace 
+
+The Christian prince, King Henry, were he 
+
+here. 
+Mar, Farewell, my lord: good wishes, 
+praise and prayers 
+
+Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret. [Going. 
+Suf. Farewell, sweet madam: but hark 
+
+you, Margaret; 
+
+No princely commendations to my king? 
+Mar. Such commendations as becomes a 
+
+maid, 
+
+A virgin and his servant, say to him. 
+
+Suf. Words sweetly placed and modestly 
+directed. 
+
+But, madam, I must trouble you again; 180 
+
+No loving token to his majesty ? 
+
+Mar. Yes, my good lord, a pure unspotted 
+heart, 
+
+Never yet taint with love, I send the king. 
+Suf. And this withal. [Kisses her. 
+Mar. That for thyself: I will not so pre- 
+
+sume 
+
+To send such peevish tokens to a king. 
+
+[Exeunt Reignier and Margaret. 
+Suf. O, wert thou for myself! But, Suf- 
+folk, stay; 
+
+Thou mayst not wander in that labyrinth; 
+
+There Minotaurs and ugly treasons lurk. 
+
+Solicit Henry with her wondrous praise: 190 
+
+Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount, 
+
+And natural graces that extinguish art; 
+
+Repeat their semblance often on the seas, 
+
+pies when thou comest to kneel at Henry’s 
+
+eet, 
+
+Thou mayst bereave him of his wits with 
+
+wonder, [Exit. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Camp of the Duke oF York 
+in Anjou. 
+
+
+Enter York, Warwick, and others. 
+
+
+York. Bring forth that sorceress condemn’d 
+to burn. 
+
+
+Enter La PucEL_e, guarded, and a Shepherd. 
+
+
+Shep. Ah, Joan, this kills thy father’s 
+heart outright! 
+Have I sought every country far and near, 
+And, now it is my chance to find thee out, 
+Must I behold thy timeless cruel death ? 
+Ah, Joan, sweet daughter Joan, I'll die with 
+thee! 
+
+Puc. Decrepit miser! base ignoble wretch! 
+I am descended of a gentler blood: 
+
+Thou art no father nor no friend of mine. 
+
+Shep. Out, out! My lords, an please you 
+
+"tis not so; 10 
+I did beget her, all the parish knows: 
+Her mother liveth yet, can testify 
+She was the first fruit of my bachelorship. 
+
+War. Graceless! wilt thou deny thy par- 
+
+entage > 
+
+York. This argues what her kind of life 
+
+hath been, 
+Wicked and vile; and so her death concludes, 
+
+Shep. Fie, Joan, that thou will be so ob- 
+
+stacle! 
+God knows thou art a collop of my flesh; 
+And for thy sake have I shed many a tear: 
+Deny me not, I prithee, gentle Joan. 20 
+Puc. Peasant, avaunt! You have suborn’d 
+this man, 
+Of purpose to obscure my noble birth. 
+
+Shep. ‘Tis true, I gave a noble to the priest! 
+The morn that I was wedded to her mother. 
+Kneel nee and take my blessing, good my 
+
+girl. 
+Wilt thou not stoop? Now cursed be the time 
+Of thy nativity! I would the milk 
+Thy mother gave thee when thou suck'dst her 
+breast, 
+Had been a little ratsbane for thy sake! 
+Or else, when thou didst keep my lambs afield, 
+I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee! 31 
+Dost thou deny thy father, cursed drab? 
+O, burn her, burn her! hanging is too good. 
+[Exit. 
+York. Take her away; for she hath lived 
+too long, 
+To fill the world with vicious qualities. 
+Puc. First, let me tell you whom you have 
+condemn’d: 
+Not me begotten of a shepherd swain, 
+But issued from the progeny of kings; 
+Virtuous and holy; chosen from above, 
+By inspiration of celestial grace, 40 
+
+
+608 
+
+
+FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+To work exceeding miracles on earth. 
+I never had to do with wicked spirit: 
+But you, that are polluted with your lusts, 
+Stain’'d with the guiltless blood of inno- 
+cents, 
+Corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices, 
+Because you want the grace that others have, 
+You judge it straight a thing impossible 
+To compass wonders but by help of devils. 
+No, misconceived! Joan of Arc hath been 
+A virgin from her tender infancy, 
+Chaste and immaculate in very thought; 
+Whose maiden blood, thus rigorously effused, 
+Will cry for vengeance at the gates of heaven. 
+York. Ay, ay: away with her to execution! 
+War. And hark ye, sirs; because she is a 
+maid, 
+Spare for no faggots, let there be enow: 
+Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake, 
+That so her torture may be shortened. 
+Puc. Will nothing turn your unrelenting 
+hearts? 
+Then, Joan, discover thine infirmity, 60 
+That warranteth by law to be thy privilege. 
+I am with child, ye bloody homicides: 
+Murder not then the fruit within my womb, 
+Although ye hale me to a violent death. 
+York. Now heaven forfend! the holy maid 
+with child! 
+War. The greatest miracle that e’er ye 
+wrought: 
+Is all your strict preciseness come to this? 
+York. She and the Dauphin have been 
+juggling: 
+did imasine what would be her refuge. 
+War. Well, go to; we'll have no bastards 
+live; 70 
+Especially since Charles must father it. 
+Puc. You are deceived; my child is none 
+of his: : 
+It was Alencon that enjoy’d my love. 
+York. Alencon! that notorious Machiavel! 
+Tt dies, an if it had a thousand lives. 
+Puc. O, give me leave, I have deluded you: 
+‘Twas neither Charles nor yet the duke | 
+named, 
+But Reignier, king of Naples, that prevail'’d. 
+War. A married man! that’s most intoler- 
+
+
+50 
+
+
+able. 
+York. Why, here’s a girl! I think she 
+knows not well, 80 
+
+
+There were so many, whom she may accuse, 
+
+
+War. It’s sign she hath been liberal and 
+
+
+free. 
+York. And yet, forsooth, she is a virgin 
+
+pure. 
+Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat and 
+
+thee: 
+
+
+Use no entreaty, for it is in vain. 
+
+
+Puc. Then lead me hence; with whom I 
+leave my curse: 
+May never glorious sun reflex his beams 
+Upon the country where you make abode; 
+But darkness and the gloomy shade of death 
+Environ you, till mischief and despair 90 
+Drive you to break your necks or hang your- 
+selves! [Exit, guarded. 
+York. Break thou in pieces and consume 
+to ashes, 
+Thou foul accursed minister of hell! 
+
+
+Enter CarpinaL BEaurort, Bishop of 
+Winchester, attended, 
+
+
+Car: Lord regent, I do greet your excellence 
+With letters of commission from the king. 
+For know, my lords, the states of Christendom, 
+Moved with remorse of these outrageous broils, 
+Have earnestly implored a general peace 
+Betwixt our nation and the aspiring French; 
+And here at hand the Dauphin and his train 
+Approacheth, to confer about some matter. 
+
+York. Is all our travail turn’d to this effect? 
+After the slaughter of so many peers, 
+
+So many captains, gentlemen and soldiers, 
+
+That in this quarrel have been overthrown 
+
+And sold their bodies for their country’s benefit, 
+
+Shall we at last conclude effeminate peace ? 
+
+Have we not lost most part of all the towns, 
+
+By treason, falsehood and by treachery, 
+
+Our great progenitors had conquered? 110 
+
+O, Warwick, Warwick! I foresee with grief 
+
+The utter loss of all the realm of France. 
+War. Be patient, York: if we conclude a 
+
+eace, hy 
+It shall be with such strict and severe cove- 
+nants 
+As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby. 
+
+
+Enter Cuartes, ALENCON, BasTarD, 
+REIGNIER, and_ others. 
+
+
+Char. Since, lords of England, it is thus 
+agreed 
+That peaceful truce shall be 
+France, 
+We come to be informed by yourselves 
+What the conditions of that league must be. 
+York. Speak, Winchester; for boiling 
+choler chokes 120 
+The hollow passage of my poison'd voice, 
+By sight of these our baleful enemies. 
+Car. Charles, and the rest, it is enacted 
+thus: 
+That, in regard King Henry gives consent, 
+Of mere compassion and of lenity. 
+To ease your country of distressful war, 
+And suffer you to breathe in fruitful peace, 
+ov shall became true liegemen to his crown: 
+And, Charles. spon condition thon wilt swear 
+To pay him tribute, and submit thyself, 130 
+
+
+proclaim’d in 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. IV 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+Fite 
+
+
+‘ 
+‘ 
+
+
+Ka) oa 
+
+
+Act FIRST PART OF 
+
+
+V, Sc. V] 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI 609 
+
+
+Thou shalt be placed as viceroy under him, 
+And still enjoy thy regal dignity. 
+Alen. Must he be then as shadow of him- 
+self > 
+Adorn his temples with a coronet, 
+And yet, in substance and authority, 
+Retain but privilege of a private man? 
+This proffer is absurd and reasonless. 
+Char. "Tis known already that I 
+possess’d 
+With more than half the Gallian territories, 
+And therein reverenced for their lawful king: 
+Shall I, for lucre of the rest unvanquish’d, 141 
+Detract so much from that prerogative, 
+As to be call’d but viceroy of the whole? 
+No, lord ambassador, I'll rather keep 
+That which I have than, coveting for more, 
+Be cast from possibility of all. 
+York. Insulting Charles! hast thou by 
+secret means 
+Used intercession to obtain a league, 
+And, now the matter grows to compromise, 
+Stand’st thou aloof upon comparison? 
+Either accept the title thou usurp’st, 
+Of benefit proceeding from our king 
+And not ef any challenge of desert, 
+Or we will plague thee with incessant wars. 
+
+Reig. My lord, you do not well in obstinacy 
+To cavil in the course of this contract: 
+
+If once it be neglected, ten to one 
+We shall not find like opportunity> 
+
+Alen. To say the truth, it is your policy 
+To save your subjects from such massacre 160 
+And ruthless slaughters as are daily seen 
+By our proceeding in hostility; 
+
+And therefore take this compact of a truce, 
+Although you break it when your pleasure 
+serves. 
+
+War. How say’st thou, Charles? shall our 
+
+condition stand? 
+
+Char. It shall; 
+
+Only reserved, you claim no interest 
+In any of our towns of garrison. 
+
+York. Then swear allegiance to his majesty, 
+As thou art knight, never to disobey 170 
+Nor be rebellious to the crown of England, 
+Thou, nor thy nobles, to the crown of England. 
+So, now dismiss your army when ye please; 
+Hang up your ensigns, let your drums be still, 
+For here we entertain a solemn peace. 
+
+[Exeuni. 
+
+
+Scene V. London. The palace. 
+
+
+Enter SuFFOLK in conference with the Kine, 
+GLouceEsTER and EXETER. 
+
+
+King. Your 
+
+
+noble earl, 
+
+
+am 
+
+
+150 
+
+
+wondrous rare description, 
+
+
+_ Of beauteous Margaret hath astonish d me: 
+
+
+Her virtues graced with external gifts 
+
+
+Do breed love's seitled passions in my heart: 
+And like-as rigour of tempestuous gusts 
+Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide, 
+So am I driven by breath of her renown 
+Either to suffer shipwreck or arrive 
+Where I may have fruition of her love. 
+
+Suf. Tush, my good lord, this superficial 
+
+tale 10 
+
+Is but a preface of her worthy praise; 
+The chief perfections of that lovely dame, 
+Had I sufficient skill to utter them, 
+Would make a volume of enticing lines, 
+Able to ravish any dull conceit: 
+And, which is more, she is not so divine, 
+
+
+) So full-replete with choice of all delights, 
+
+
+But with as humble lowliness of mind 
+
+She is content to be at your command; 
+
+Command, I mean, of virtuous chaste intents, 
+
+To love and honour Henry as her lord. 21 
+King. And otherwise will Henry ne'er pre- 
+
+sume. 
+
+Therefore, my lord protector, give consent 
+
+That Margaret may be England's royal queen. 
+
+Glou. So should I give consent to flatter sin. 
+You know, my lord, your highness is betroth’d 
+Unto another lady of esteem: 
+
+How shall we then dispense with that contract, 
+And not deface your honour with reproach? 
+
+Suf. As doth a ruler with unlawful oaths; 
+Or one that, at a triumph having vow'd 
+To try his strength, forsaketh yet the lists 
+By reason of his adversary’s odds: 
+
+A poor earl’s daughter is unequal odds, 
+And therefore may be broke without offence. 
+Glou. Why, what, I pray, is Margaret 
+more than that? 
+Her father is no better than an earl, 
+Although in glorious titles he excel. 
+
+Suf. Yes, my lord, her father is a king, 
+The King of Naples and Jerusalem; 
+And of such great authority in France 
+As his alliance will confirm our peace 
+And keep the Frenchmen in allegiance. 
+
+Glou. And so the Eari of Armagnac may 
+
+do, 
+Because he is near kinsman unto Charles. 
+
+Exe. Beside, his wealth doth warrant a 
+
+liberal dower, 
+Where Reignier sooner will receive than give. 
+
+Suf. A dower, my lords! disgrace not se 
+
+your king, 
+That he should be so abject, base and poor, 
+To choose for wealth and not-for perfect love. 
+Henry is able to enrich his queen 
+And not to seek a queen to make him rich: 
+So worthless peasants bargain for their wives, 
+As market-men for oxen, sheep, or horse, 
+Marriage is a matter of more worth 
+Than to be dealt in by attorneyship; 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+610 
+
+
+FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+[Acr V, Sc. V 
+
+
+Not whom we will, but whom his grace affects, 
+
+Must be companion of his nuptial bed: 
+
+And therefore, lords, since he affects her most, 
+
+It most of all these reasons bindeth us. 60 
+
+In our opinions she should be preferr'd. 
+
+For what is wedlock forced but a hell, 
+
+An age of discord and continual strife? 
+
+Whereas the contrary bringeth bliss, 
+
+And is a pattern of celestial peace. 
+
+Mibee should we match with Henry, being a 
+
+ing, 
+
+But Margaret, that is daughter to a king? 
+
+Her peerless feature, joined with her birth, 
+
+Approves her fit for none but for a king: 
+
+Her valiant courage and undaunted spirit, 
+
+More than in women commonly is seen, 
+
+Will answer our hope in issue of a king; 
+
+Yor Henry, son unto a conqueror, 
+
+Is likely to beget more conquerors, 
+
+If with a lady of so high resolve 
+
+As is fair Margaret he be link'd in love. 
+
+Then yield, my lords; and here conclude with 
+
+me 
+
+‘That Margaret shall be queen, and none but she. 
+
+King. Whether it be through force of your 
+report, 
+
+My noble Lord of Suffolk, or for that 80 
+
+My tender youth was never yet attaint 
+
+With any passion of inflaming love, 
+
+1 cannot tell; but this I am assured, 
+
+
+70 
+
+
+I feel such sharp dissension in my breast, 
+
+Such fierce alarums both of hope and fear, 
+
+As I am sick with working of my thoughts. 
+
+Take, therefore, shipping; post, my lord, to 
+France; 
+
+Agree to any covenants, and procure 
+
+That Lady Margaret do vouchsafe to come 
+
+To cross the seas to England and be crown’d 
+
+King Henry’s faithful and anointed queen: 
+
+For your expenses and sufficient charge, 
+
+Among the people gather up a tenth. 
+
+Be gone, I say; for, till you do return, 
+
+I rest perplexed with a thousand cares. 
+
+And you, good uncle, banish all offence: 
+
+If you do censure me by what you were, 
+
+Not what you are, I know it will excuse 
+
+This sudden execution of my will. 7 
+
+And so, conduct me where, from company, 
+
+I may revolve and ruminate my grief. [Exit. 
+
+Glou. Ay, grief, I fear me, both at first 
+and last. [Exeunt Gloucester and Exeter. 
+Suf. Thus Suffolk hath prevailed; and 
+
+thus he goes, 
+
+As did the youthful] Paris once to Greece, 
+
+With hope to find the like event in love, 
+
+But prosper better that the Trojan did. 
+
+Margaret shall now be queen, and rule the 
+
+
+king; 
+But | will rule both her, the king and realm. 
+[Exit. 
+
+
+THE SECOND PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+DRAMATIS 
+
+
+Kine Henry the Sixth. 
+Humpurey, Duke of Gloucester, his 
+uncle. 
+
+CarpinaL Beaurort, Bishop of Win- 
+chester, great-uncle to the King. 
+Ricuarp PLANTAGENET, Duke of York. 
+
+Epwarp and RiIc#arD, his sons. 
+
+DukKE OF SOMERSET. 
+
+DukE oF SUFFOLK. 
+
+Duke oF BUCKINGHAM. 
+
+Lorp CLIFFORD, 
+
+Young CLIFFORD, his son. 
+
+Ear_ OF SALISBURY. 
+
+Ear or WarRwIcK. 
+
+Lorp SCALEs. 
+
+Lorp Say. 
+
+Sir Humpurey STAFFORD, and WILLIAM 
+STAFFORD, his brother. 
+
+Sir JoHN STANLEY. 
+
+Vaux. 
+
+MattTHEw GorFE. 
+
+A Sea-captain, Master, and Master’s- | 
+Mate, and WaLTER WHITMORE. 
+
+Two Gentlemen, prisoners with Suffolk. 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+
+
+Scene I. London. The palace. 
+
+
+Flourish of trumpets: then hautboys. Enter 
+the Kinc, Humpurey, Duke of GLouces- 
+TER, SALISBURY, WARWICK, and CARDINAL 
+Beaurort, on the one side; the QUEEN, 
+SuFFoLK, YORK, SOMERSET, and Buck- 
+INGHAM, on the other. 
+
+Suf. As by your high imperial majesty 
+
+I had in charge at my depart from France, 
+
+As procurator to your excellence, 
+
+To marry Princess Margaret for your grace, 
+
+So, in the famous ancient city of Tours, 
+
+In presence of the Kings of France and Sicil, 
+
+The Dukes of Orleans, Calaber, Bretagne 
+‘and Alencon, 
+
+Seven earls, twelve barons and twenty rev- 
+
+erend bishops, 
+
+[have perform'’d my task and was espoused: 
+
+And humbly now upon my bended knee, 10 
+
+{n sight of England and her lordly peers, 
+
+Deliver up my title in the queen 
+
+
+) 
+
+
+61 
+
+
+PERSON/E 
+
+
+Joun Hume and JoHn SouTHWELi, 
+priests. 
+BoLINGBROKE, a conjurer. 
+
+
+Tuomas Horner, an armourer, PETER. 
+his man. 
+
+Clerk of Chatham. Mayor of Saint 
+Alban's. 
+
+
+Smmpcox, an impostor. 
+
+ALEXANDER IDEN, a Kentish gentleman. 
+
+Jack Cape, a rebel. 
+
+Georce Bevis, JoHN Hotianp, Dex 
+the butcher, SmitTH the weaver, 
+MicuaeL, &c., followers of Cade. 
+
+Two Murderers. 
+
+MarcareET, Queen to King Henry. 
+
+Exeanor, Duchess of Gloucester. 
+
+MarcareET JourRDAIN, a witch. 
+
+Wife to Simpcox. 
+
+Lords, Ladies, and Attendants, Petitioners, Aj- 
+dermen, a Herald, a Beadle, Sheriff, anc 
+Officers, Citizens, ‘Prentices, Falconers. 
+Guards, Soldiers, Messengers, &c. 
+
+A Spir't. 
+Scene: England. 
+
+
+To your most gracious hands, that are the sub- 
+stance 
+
+Of that great shadow I did represent; 
+
+The happiest gift that ever marquess gave. 
+
+The fairest queen that ever king received. 
+
+King. Suffolk, arise. . Welcome, Queer 
+
+Margaret: 
+
+I can express no kinder sign of love 
+
+ben this kind kiss. O, Lord, that lends me 
+ife, 
+
+Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness! 
+
+For thou hast given me in this beauteous face 
+
+A world of earthly blessings to my soul, 
+
+If sympathy of love unite our thoughts. 
+
+Queen. Great King of England aud my 
+
+gracious lord, 
+
+The mutual conference that my mind hath had, 
+
+By day, by night, waking and in my dreams, 
+
+In courtly company or at my beads, 
+
+With you, mine alder-liefest sovereign, 
+
+Makes me the bolder to salute my king 
+
+With ruder terms, such as my wit affords 30 
+
+And over-joy of heart doth minister. 
+
+
+’ 
+' 
+
+
+6{2 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+King. Her sight did ravish; but her grace 
+in speech, 
+Her words y-clad with wisdom’s majesty, 
+Makes me from wondering fall to weeping 
+
+
+ys; 
+Such is the fulness of my heart’s content. 
+Lords, with one cheerful voice welcome my 
+love. 
+All [kneeling]. Long live Queen Margaret, 
+England’s happiness! 
+Queen. We thank you all. [Flourish. 
+Suf. My lord protector, so it please your 
+grace, 
+Here are the articles of contracted peace 40 
+Between our sovereign and the French king 
+Charles, 
+For eighteen months concluded by consent. 
+Glou. [Reads] ‘Imprimis, It is agreed be- 
+tween the French king Charles, and William 
+de la Pole, Marquess of Suffolk, ambassador 
+for Henry King of England, that the said 
+Henry shall espouse the Lady Margaret, 
+daughter unto Reignier-King of Naples, Sicilia 
+and Jerusalem, and crown her Queen of Eng- 
+land ere the thirtieth day of May next en- 
+suing. Item, that the duchy of Anjou and 
+the county of Maine shall be released and 
+delivered to the king her father’— 
+[Lets the paper fall. 
+King. Uncle, how now! 
+Glou. Pardon me, gracious lord; 
+Some sudden qualm hath struck me at the 
+
+
+heart 
+And dimm'd mine eyes, that I can read no 
+further. 
+King. Uncle of Winchester, I pray, read 
+on, 
+
+
+Car, [Reads] ‘Item, It is further agreed 
+between them, that the duchies of Anjou and 
+Maine shall be released and delivered over to 
+the king her father, and she sent over of the 
+King of England's own proper cost and 
+charges, without having any dowry.’ 
+
+King. They please us well. Lord mar- 
+
+quess, kneel down: 
+We here create thee the first duke of Suffolk, 
+And gird thee with the sword. Cousin of 
+York, 
+We here discharge your grace from being 
+regent 
+I’ the parts of France, till term of eighteen 
+months 
+Be full expired. Thanks, uncle Winchester, 
+Gloucester, York, Buckingham, Somerset, 
+Salisbury, and Warwick; -» 70 
+We thank you all for this great favour done, 
+In entertainment ‘to my princely queen. 
+Come, let us in, and with all speed provide 
+Ta see her coronation be perform’'d, 
+
+
+[Exeunt King, Queen, and Suffolk. 
+
+Glou. Brave peers of England, pillars of 
+
+the state, 
+To you Duke Humphrey must unload his 
+grief, 
+Your grief, the common grief of all the land. 
+What! did my brother Henry spend his youth, 
+His valour, coin and people, in the wars? 
+Did he so often lodge in open field, 80 
+In winter's cold and summer's parching heat, 
+To conquer France, his true inheritance? 
+And did my brother Bedford toil his wits, 
+To keep by policy what Henry got? 
+Have you yourselves, Somerset, Buckingham, 
+Brave York, Salisbury, and victorious War- 
+wick, 
+Received deep scars 
+mandy > 
+Or hath mine uncle Beaufort and myself, 
+With all the learned council of the realm, 
+Studied so long, sat in the council-house 90 
+Early and late, debating to and fro 
+How France and Frenchmen might be kept 
+in awe, 
+And had his highness im his infancy 
+Crowned in Paris in despite of foes? 
+pacamel these labours and these honours 
+ie? 
+Shall Henry's conquest, Bedford's vigilance, 
+‘Your deeds of war and all our counsel die? 
+O peers of England, shameful is this league! 
+Fatal this marriage, cancelling your fame, 
+Blotting your names from books of memory, 
+Razing the characters of your renown, 
+Defacing monuments of conquer’d France, 
+Undoing all, as all had never been! 
+Car. Nephew, what means this passionate 
+discourse, 
+This peroration with such circumstance? 
+For France, ‘tis ours; and we will keep it still. 
+
+Glou. Ay, uncle, we will keep it, if we 
+
+can; 
+
+But now it is impossible we should: 
+
+Suffolk, the new-made duke that rules the 
+roast, 
+
+Hath given the duchy of Anjou and Maine 
+
+Unto the poor King Reignier, whose large 
+style 
+
+Agrees not with the leanness of his purse. 
+
+Sal. Now, by the death of Him that died 
+
+for all, 
+
+These counties were the keys of Normandy. 
+
+But wherefore weeps Warwick, my valiant 
+son >? 
+
+War. For grief that they are past recovery: 
+For, were there hope to conquer them again, 
+My sword should shed hot blood, mine eyes 
+
+no tears. 
+
+
+{Anjou and Maine! myself did win them both: 
+
+
+in France and Nor- 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. I 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+Eee eS ts ite ‘ 
+
+
+i SAcr-L Sc, if] SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 613 
+
+
+I prophesied France will be lost ere long. 
+
+
+Those provinces these arms of mine did con- 
+uer: 120 
+And are the cities, that I got with wounds, 
+Deliver’d up again with peaceful words? 
+Mort Dieu! 
+York. For Suffolk's duke, may he be 
+suffocate, 
+That dims the honour of this warlike isle! 
+France should have torn and rent my very 
+heart, 
+Before I would have yielded to this league. 
+I never read but England's kings have had 
+Large sums of gold and dowries with their 
+wives; 
+And our King Henry gives away his own, 
+To match with her that brings no vantages. 
+Glou.’ A proper jest, and never heard be- 
+
+
+fore, 
+That Suffolk should demand a whole fifteenth 
+For costs and charges in transporting her! 
+She should have stay'd in France and starved 
+in France, 
+Before— : 
+Car. My Lord of Gloucester, now ye grow 
+too hot: 
+It was the pleasure of my lord the king. 
+Glou. My Lord of Winchester, I know 
+your mind; 
+"Tis not my speeches that you do mislike, 140 
+But ‘tis my presence that doth trouble ye. 
+Rancour will out: proud prelate, in thy face 
+I see thy fury: if I longer stay, 
+We shall begin our ancient bickerings. 
+Lordlings, farewell; and say, when | am gone, 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+Car. So, there goes our protector ina rage. 
+‘Tis known to you he is mine enemy, 
+Nay, more, an enemy unto you all, 
+And no great friend, I fear me, to the king, 
+Consider, lords, he is the next of blood, 
+And heir apparent to the English crown: 
+Had Henry got an empire by his marriage, 
+And all the wealthy kingdoms of the west, 
+There ’s reason he should be displeased at it. 
+Look to it, lords; let not his smoothing words 
+Bewitch your hearts; be wise and circumspect. 
+What though the common people favour him, 
+Calling him ‘Humphrey, the good Duke of 
+Gloucester,’ 
+Clapping their hands, and crying with loud 
+voice, 160 
+‘Jesu maintain your royal excellence!’ 
+With ‘God preserve the good Duke Hum- 
+phrey!’ 
+I fear me, lords, for all this flattering gloss, 
+He will be found a dangerous protector. 
+Buck. Why should he, then, protect our 
+sovereign, 
+
+
+He being of age to govern of himself? 
+
+Cousin of Somerset, join you with me, 
+
+And all together, with the Duke of Suffolk, 
+
+We'll quickly hoise Duke Humphrey. from 
+his seat. 
+
+
+Car. This weighty business will not brook 
+170 
+
+
+delay ; 
+I'll to the Duke of Suffolk presently. [Exit. 
+Som. Cousin of Buckingham, though Hum- 
+phrey’s pride 
+And greatness of his place be grief to us, 
+Yet let us watch the haughty cardinal: 
+His insolence is more intolerable 
+Than all the princes in the land beside: 
+If Gloucester be displaced, he ‘Il be protector. 
+Buck. Or thou or I, Somerset, will be pre- 
+tector, 
+Despite Duke Humphrey or the cardinal. 
+[Exeunt Buckingham and Somerset. 
+Sal. Pride went before, ambition follows 
+
+
+im. 
+While these do labour for their own prefer- 
+meni, 
+Behoves it us to labour for the realm. 
+I never saw but Humphrey Duke of Glov- 
+cester 
+Did bear him like a noble gentleman. 
+Oft I have seen the haughty cardinal, 
+More like a soldier than a man o’ the church, 
+As stout and proud as he were lord of all, 
+Swear like a ruffian and demean himself 
+Unlike the ruler of a commonweal. 
+Warwick, my son, the comfort of my age, 
+Thy deeds, thy plainness and thy housekeep- 
+ing, 
+Hath won the greatest fayour of the commons, 
+Excepting none but good Duke Humphrey: 
+And, brother York, thy acts in Ireland, 
+In bringing them to civil discipline, 
+Thy late exploits done in the heart of France, 
+When thou wert regent for our sovereign. 
+
+
+‘Have made thee fear’d and honour'd of the 
+
+
+people: 
+Join we together, for the public good, 
+In what we can, to bridle and suppress 200 
+The pride of Suffolk and the cardinal, 
+With Somerset’s and Buckingham’s ambition; 
+And, as we may, cherish Duke Humphrey’s 
+deeds, 
+While they do tend the profit of the land. 
+War. So God help Warwick, as he loves 
+the land, - 
+And common profit of his country! 
+York. [Aside] And so says York, for he 
+hath greatest cause. 
+Sal. Then let's make haste away, and look 
+unto the main. 
+War. Unto the main! © father, Maine ic 
+lost; 
+
+
+614 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+[Act I, Sc. I] 
+
+
+That Maine which by main force Warwick 
+did win, 210 
+
+And would have kept so long as breath did 
+last > 
+
+Main chance, father, you meant; but I meant 
+
+aine, 
+
+Which I will win from France, or else be 
+slain. [Exeunt Warwick and Salisbury, 
+
+» York. Anjou and Maine are given to the 
+French; 
+
+Paris ‘s lost; the state of Normandy 
+
+Stands on a tickle point, now they are gone: 
+
+Suffolk concluded on the articles, 
+
+The peers agreed, and Henry was well pleased 
+
+To change two dukedoms for a duke's fair 
+daughter. 
+
+i cannot blame them all: what is ‘t to them? 
+
+‘Tis thine they give away, and not their own. 
+
+Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their 
+pillage 
+
+And purchase friends and give to courtezans, 
+
+Sul revelling like lords till all be gone; 
+
+While as the silly owner of the goods 
+
+eeps over them and wrings his hapless hands 
+
+
+And shakes his head and trembling stands | I 
+
+
+aloof, 
+While all is shared and all is borne away, 
+Ready to starve and dare not touch his own: 
+So York must sit and fret and bite his tongue, 
+While his own lands are bargain’d for and 
+sold. 
+Methinks the realms of England, France and 
+Ireland 
+Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood 
+As did the fatal brand Althzea burn'd 
+Unto the prince’s heart of Calydon. 
+Anjou and Maine both given unto the French! 
+Cold news for me, for I had hope of France, 
+Even as I have of fertile England's soil. 
+A day will come when York shall claim his 
+
+
+own: 
+And therefore I will take the Nevils’ parts 
+And make a show of love to proud Duke 
+Humphrey, 
+And, when I spy advantage, claim the crown, 
+For that's the golden mark I seek to hit: 
+Nor shall proud Lancaster usurp my right, 
+Nor hold the sceptre in his childish fist, 
+Nor wear the diadem upon his head, 
+Whose church-like humours fits not for a 
+crown. 
+Then, York, be still awhile, till time do serve: 
+Watch thou and wake when others be asleep. 
+To pry into the secrets of the state: 250 
+‘Till Henry, surfeiting in joys of love, 
+With his new bride and England’s dear- 
+bought queen, 
+And Humphrey with the peers be fall’n at 
+jars: 
+
+
+Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose, 
+
+With whose sweet smell the air shall be per- 
+fumed; 
+
+And in my standard bear the arms of York, 
+
+To grapple with the house of Lancaster; 
+
+And, force perforce, I'll make him yield the 
+
+
+crown, 
+Whose bookish rule hath pull’d fair England 
+
+
+down. xit, 
+Scene II. The Duxe or GLoucesteER’s 
+ouse, 
+Enter Duke Humpurey and his wife 
+ELEANoR. 
+
+
+Duch. Why droops my lord, like over- 
+ripen'd corn, 
+Hanging the head at Ceres’ plenteous load? 
+Why doth the great Duke Humphrey knit his 
+brows, 
+As frowning at the favours of the world? 
+Why are th’ne eyes fix'd to the sullen earth, 
+Gazing on that which seems to dim thy sight? 
+What seest thou there ? King Henry’s diadem, 
+Enchased with all the honours of the world? 
+f so, gaze on, and grovel on thy face, 
+Until thy head be circled with the same. 
+Put forth thy hand, reach at 
+What, ist too short? 
+mine; 
+And, having both together heaved it up, 
+We'll both together lift our heads to heaven, 
+And never more abase our sight so low 
+As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground. 
+Glou. O Nell, sweet Nell, if thou dost love 
+thy lord, «+ 
+Banish the canker of ambitious thoughts, 
+And may that thought, when I imagine ill 
+Against my king and nephew, virtuous Henry, 
+Be my last breathing in this mortal world! 21 
+My troublous dream this night doth make me 
+
+
+sad. 
+Duch. What dream'’d my lord? tell me, 
+and I'll requite it 
+With sweet rehearsal of my morning's dream. 
+Glou. Methought this staff, mine office- 
+badge in court, 
+Was broke in twain; by whom I have forgot, 
+But, as I think, it was by the cardinal; 
+| And on the pieces of the broken wand 
+Were placed the heads of Edmund Duke of 
+Somerset, 
+And William de la Pole, first duke of Suffolk. 
+This was my dream: what it doth bode, God 
+knows. 
+Duch, Tut, this was nothing but an argu- 
+
+
+ment 
+That he who breaks a stick of Gloucester’s 
+
+
+10 
+the glorious gold. 
+I'll lengthen it with 
+
+
+grove 
+1 Shall lose his head for his presumption. 
+
+
+“YT Act I, Sc, HI] 
+
+
+EE 
+
+
+a “> 
+
+
+But list to me, my Humphrey, my sweet duke: 
+Methought I sat in seat of majesty 
+In the cathedral church of Westminster, 
+
+
+_ And in that chair where kings and queens are 
+
+
+crown'd; 
+Where Henry and dame Margaret kneel'd to 
+
+
+me 
+And on my head did set the diadem. 40 
+Glou. Nay, Eleanor, then must I chide 
+outright: 
+Presumptuous dame, ill-nurtured Eleanor, 
+Art thou not second woman in the realm, 
+And the protector’s wife, beloved of him? 
+Hast thou not worldly pleasures at command, 
+Above the reach or compass of thy thought? 
+And wilt thou still be hammering treachery, 
+To tumble down thy husband and thyself 
+From top of honour to d’sgrace’s feet? 
+Away from me, and let me hear no more! 50 
+Duch. What, what, my lord! are you so 
+. choleric 
+With Eleanor, for telling but her dream? 
+Next time I'll keep my dreams unto myself, 
+And not be check’d. 
+Glou. Nay, be not angry; I am pleased 
+again. 
+Enter Messenger. 
+Mess. My lord protector, ‘tis his highness’ 
+pleasure 
+You do prepare to ride unto Saint Alban’s, 
+Where as the king and queen do mean to hawk. 
+
+
+Glou. I go. Come, Nell, thou wilt ride 
+with us? 
+
+Duch. Yes, my good lord, I'll follow 
+
+. presently. 60 
+
+
+[Exeunt Gloucester and Messenger. 
+Follow I must; I cannot go before, 
+
+
+While Gloucester bears this base and humble 
+
+
+mind, 
+
+
+_ Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood, 
+
+
+I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks 
+And smooth my way upon their headless 
+necks; 
+And, being a woman, | will not be slack 
+To play my part in Fortune's pageant. 
+here are you there? Sir John! nay, fear 
+not, man, 
+We are alone; here's none but thee and I, 
+Enter Hume. 
+Hume. Jesus preserve your royal majesty! 
+Duch, What say’st thou? majesty! I am 
+but grace. 
+Hume. But, by the grace of God, and 
+Hume's advice, 
+Your grace’s title shall be multiplied. 
+Duch. What say’st thou, man? hast thou 
+as yet conferr’d 
+With Margery Jourdain, the cunning witch, 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+615 
+
+
+With Roger Bolingbroke, the conjurer? 
+And will they undertake to do me good? 
+Hume. This they have promised, to show 
+your highness 
+A spirit raised from depth of under-ground, 
+That shall make answer to such questions 80 
+As by your grace shall be propounded him. 
+Duch, It is enough; I'll think upon the 
+questions: 
+When from Saint Alban’s we do make return, 
+We 'll see these things effected to the full. 
+Here, Hume, take this reward; make merry, 
+man, 
+With thy confederates in this weighty cause. 
+[Exit. 
+Hume. Hume must make merry with the 
+duchess’ gold; 
+Marry, and shall. 
+Hume! 
+Seal up your lips, and give no words but mum: 
+The business asketh silent secrecy. 90 
+Dame Eleanor gives gold to bring the witch: 
+Gold cannot come amiss, were she a devil. 
+Yet have I gold fl'es from another coast; 
+I dare not say, from the rich cardinal 
+And from the great and new-made Duke of 
+Suffolk, 
+Yet I do find it so; for, to be plain, 
+They, knowing Dame Eleanor’s aspiring hu- 
+mour, 
+Have hired me to undermine the duchess 
+And buz these conjurations in her brain. 
+They say ‘A crafty knave does need no 
+broker;’ 
+Yet am I Suffolk and the cardinal’s broker. 
+Hume, if you take not heed, you shall go near 
+To call them both a pair of crafty knaves. 
+Well, so it stands: and thus, I fear, at last 
+Hume's knavery will be the duchess’ wreci, 
+And her attainture will be Humphrey’s fall: 
+Sort how it will, I shall have gold for all. 
+[Exit. 
+
+
+But, how now, Sir John 
+
+
+Scene II. The palace. 
+
+
+Enter three or four Petitioners, PETER, the 
+Armourer’s man, being one. 
+
+
+First Petit. My masters, let’s stand close: 
+my lord protector will come this way by and 
+by, and then we may deliver our supplica- 
+tions in the guill. 
+
+Sec. Petit. Marry, the Lord protect him, 
+for he’s a good man! Jesu bless him! 
+
+
+Enter SUFFOLK and QUEEN. 
+Peter. Here a’ comes, methinks, and the 
+queen with him. I'll be the first, sure. 
+
+
+Sec. Petit. Come back, fool; this is the 
+Duke of Suffolk, and not my lord protector, 
+
+
+616 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+WP pene de 
+
+
+Suf. How now, fellow! wouldst any thing 
+with me? 
+
+First Petit. 1 pray, my lord, pardon me; | 
+took ye for my lord protector, 
+
+Queen, [Reading] ‘To my Lord Pro- 
+tector!’ Are your supplications to his lord- 
+ship? Let me see them: what is thine? 
+
+First Petit. Mine is, ant please your grace, 
+against John Goodman, my lord cardinal’s 
+man, for keeping my house, and lands, and 
+
+
+wife and all, from me. 2) 
+Suf. Thy wife too! that’s some wrong, 
+indeed. What's yours? What's here? 
+
+
+[Reads] ‘Against the Duke of Suffolk, for 
+enclosing the commons of Melford.’ How 
+now, sir knave! 
+
+Sec. Petit. Alas, sir, I am but a poor peti- 
+tioner of our whole township. 
+
+Peter. [Civing his petition] Against my 
+master, Thomas Horner, for saying that the 
+Duke of York was rightful heir to the crown. 
+
+Queen. What say'st thou? did the Duke 
+of York say he was rightful heir to the crown? 
+
+Peter. That my master was? no, forsooth: 
+my master said that he was, and that the king 
+was an usurper. 
+
+Suf. Who is there? [Enter Servant.] Take 
+this fellow in, and send for his master with 
+a pursuivant presently; we'll hear more of 
+your matter before the king. 
+
+[Exit Servant with Peter. 
+
+Queen. And as for you, that love to be 
+
+protected 40 
+Under the wings of our protector’s grace, 
+Bring your suits anew, and sue to him. 
+
+[Tears the supplications. 
+Away, base cull’ons! Suffolk, let them go. 
+
+All. Come, let's be gone. {Exeunt. 
+
+Queen. My Lord of Suffolk, say, is this 
+
+the guise, 
+
+Is this the fashion in the court of England? 
+Is this the government of Britain's isle, 
+And this the royalty of Albion's king? 
+What, shall King Henry be a pupil still 
+Under the surly Gloucester governance > 
+Am I a queen in ttle and in style, 
+
+And must be made a subject to a duke? 
+
+I tell thee, Pole, when in the city Tours 
+Thou ran’st a tilt in honour of my love 
+And stolest away the ladies’ hearts of France, 
+I thought King Henry had resembled thee 
+In courage, courtship and proportion: 
+
+But all his mind is bent to holiness, 
+
+To number Ave-Maries on his beads; 
+
+His champions are the prophets and apostles, 
+His weapons holy saws of sacred writ, 61 
+His study in his tilt-yard, and his loves 
+
+Are brazen images of canonized saints. 
+
+
+J would the college of the cardinals 
+
+
+50 
+
+
+Would choose him pope and carry him ta 
+
+
+Rome, 
+And set the triple crown upon his head: 
+That were a state fit for his holiness. 
+
+Suf. Madam, be patient: as I was cause 
+Your highness came to England, so wil I 
+In England work your grace’s full content. 70 
+
+Queen. Beside the haughty protector, have 
+
+we Beaufort 
+
+The imperious churchman, Somerset, Buck- 
+ingham, 
+
+The grumbling York; and not the least of 
+these 
+
+But can do more in England than the king. 
+
+Suf. And he of these that can do most 
+
+of all 
+
+Cannot do more in England than the Nevils: 
+
+Salisbury and Warwick are no simple peers. 
+
+Queen. Not all these lords do vex me half 
+
+so much 
+
+As that proud dame, the lord protector’s wife. 
+
+She sweeps it through the court with troops 
+of ladies, 
+
+More Ye an empress than Duke Humphrey’s 
+wife: 
+
+Strangers in court do take her for the queen: 
+
+She bears a duke’s revenues on her back, 
+
+And in her heart she scorns our poverty: 
+
+Shall I not live to be avenged on her? 
+
+Contemptuous base-born callet as she is, 
+
+She vaunted ’mongst her minions t’ other day, 
+
+The very train of her worst wearing gown 
+
+‘Was better worth than all my father’s lands, 
+
+Till Suffolk gave two dukedoms for his 
+daughter.* 
+
+ou Madam, myself have limed a bush for 
+
+er, 9 
+And placed a quire of such enticing birds, 
+That she will light to listen to the lays, 
+And never mount to trouble you again. 
+So, let her rest: and, madam, list to me; 
+For I am bold to counsel you in this. 
+Although we fancy not the cardinal, 
+Yet must we join with him and with the lords, 
+Till we have brought Duke Humphrey in 
+d sgrace. 
+As for the Duke of York, this late complaint 
+Will make but little for his benefit. 10] 
+So, one by one, we'll] weed them all at last, 
+And you yourself shall steer the happy helm, 
+
+
+Enter the Kinc, DUKE 
+
+
+Sound a sennet. 
+
+
+fAcrA Scat. 
+
+
+HumpuHrey of Gloucester, CARDINAL 
+Beaufort, BUCKINGHAM, YORK, SOMER- 
+SET, SALISBURY, WARWICK, and the — 
+
+
+DucueEss oF GLOUCESTER. 
+
+King. For my part, noble lords, I care not 
+which; 
+
+Or Somerset or York, all's one to me. 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+Act I, Sc. III] 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+22 
+
+
+617 
+
+
+York. If York have ill demean’d himself | Could I come near your beauty with my nails, 
+
+
+in France, 
+Then let him be denay’d the regentship. 
+' Som, If Somerset be unworthy of the 
+place, 
+Let York be regent; I will yield to him. 
+War. Whether your grace be worthy, yea 
+or no, 110 
+Dispute not that: York is the worthier. 
+Car. Ambitious Warwick, let thy betters 
+
+
+speak. 
+
+War. The cardinal’s not my better in the 
+field. 
+
+Buck. All in this presence are thy betters, 
+Warwick. 
+
+War. Warwick may live to be the best 
+of all. 
+
+Sal. Peace, son! and show some reason, 
+Buckingham, 
+
+
+Why Somerset should be preferr'’d in this. 
+Queen. Because the king, forsooth, will 
+have it so. 
+
+
+Glou. Madam, the king is old enough him- 
+
+
+\7 
+
+
+self 
+To give his censure: these are no women’s 
+matters. 120 
+Queen. If he be old enough, what needs 
+your grace 
+
+
+o be protector of his excellence? 
+
+Glou. Madam, I am protector of the realm; 
+
+And, at his pleasure, will resign my place. 
+
+. Suf. Resign it then and leave thine in- 
+
+solence. 
+
+Since thou wert king—as who is king but 
+
+. thou?— 
+
+_ The commonwealth hath daily run to wreck; 
+The Dauphin hath prevail’d beyond the seas; 
+And all the peers and nobles of the realm 
+Have been as bondmen to thy sovereignty. 
+
+Car. The commons hath thou rack’d; the 
+clergy’s bags 
+
+_ Are lank and lean with thy extortions. 
+
+Som. Thy sumptuous buildings and thy 
+
+wife's attire 
+Have cost a mass of public treasury. 
+Buck. Thy cruelty in execution 
+Upon offenders hath exceeded law 
+And left thee to the mercy of the law. 
+Queen. Thy sale of offices and towns in 
+
+France, 
+
+If they were known, as the suspect is great, 
+Would make thee quickly hop without thy 
+head. 
+
+[Exit Gloucester. The Queen drops her fan. 
+Give me my fan: what, minion! can ye not? 
+
+[Gives the Duchess a box on the ear. 
+I cry you mercy, madam; was it you? 
+Duch. Was't I! yea, i it was, proud 
+Frenchwoman: 
+
+
+I'ld set my ten commandments in your face. 
+King. Sweet aunt, be quiet; "twas against 
+her will. 
+Duch, Against her will! good king, look 
+to't in time; 
+She'll hamper thee, and dandle thee like a 
+baby 
+Though in this place most master wear ne 
+breeches, 
+She shall not strike Dame Eleanor unrevenged, 
+[Exit, 
+Buck. Lord cardinal, I will follow Eleanor. 
+And listen after Humphrey, how he proceeds: 
+She ’s tickled now; her fume needs no spurs, 
+She 'll gallop far enough to her destruction. 
+[Exit. 
+
+
+Re-enter GLOUCESTER. 
+
+
+Glou. Now, lords, my choler being over- 
+blown 
+With walking once about the quadrangle, 
+I come to talk of commonwealth affairs, 
+As for your spiteful false objections, 
+Prove them, and I lie open to the law: 
+But God in mercy so deal w'th my soul, 160 
+As I in duty love my king and country! 
+But, to the matter that we have in hand: 
+I say, my sovereign, York is meetest man 
+o be your regent in the realm of France. 
+Suf. Before we make election, give me¢ 
+leave 
+To show some reason, of no little force, 
+That York is most unmeet of any man. 
+York. I'll tell thee, Suffolk, why I am 
+unmeet: 
+First, for I cannot flatter thee in pride; 
+Next, if I be appointed for the place, 170 
+My Lord of Somerset will keep me here, 
+Without discharge, money, or furniture, 
+Till France be won into the Dauphin’s hands: 
+Last time, I danced attendance on his will 
+Till Paris was besieged, famish'd, and lost. 
+War. That can I witness; and a fouler fact 
+Did never traitor in the land commit. 
+Suf. Peace, headstrong Warwick! 
+War. Image of pride, why should I hold 
+
+
+my peace? 
+
+
+Enter Horner, the Armourer, and his 
+man PETER, guarded. 
+
+
+Suf. Because here is a man accused of 
+. treason: 180 
+Pray God the Duke of York excuse himself! 
+
+York. Doth any one accuse York for a 
+
+traitor ? 
+
+King. What mean’st thou, Suffolk; tell 
+
+me, what are these? 
+
+Suf. Please it your majesty, this is the man 
+
+
+618 
+
+
+That doth accuse his master of high treason: 
+
+His words were these: 
+York 
+
+Was rightful heir unto the English crown 
+
+And that your majesty was an usurper. 
+
+King. Say, man, were these thy words? 
+
+Hor. An‘t shall please your majesty, I 
+never said nor thought any such matter: God 
+is my witness, I am falsely accused by the 
+villain. 
+
+Pet. By these ten bones, my lords, he did 
+speak them to me in the garret one night, as 
+we were scouring my Lord of York’s armour. 
+
+York. Base durghill villain and mechan- 
+
+
+ical, 
+
+I ‘ll have thy head for this thy traitor’s speech. 
+I do beseech your royal majesty, 
+
+Let him have all the rigour of the law. 199 
+
+Hor. Alas, my lord, hang me, if ever I 
+spake the words. My accuser is my ‘prentice; 
+and when I did correct him for his fault the 
+other day, he dd vow upon his knees he 
+would be even with me: I have good witness 
+of this; therefore I beseech your majesty, do 
+not cast away an honest man for a villain’s 
+accusation. 
+
+King. Uncle, what shall we say to this 
+
+in law? 
+
+Glou. This doom, my lord, if I may judge: 
+Let Somerset be regent o'er the French, 
+Because in York this breeds suspicion: 210 
+And let these have a day appointed them 
+For single combat in conven ent place, 
+
+For he hath witness of his servant's malice: 
+‘This is the law, and this Duke Humphrey’s 
+doom. 
+
+Som. I humbly thank your royal majesty. 
+
+Hor. And | accept the combat willingly. 
+
+Pet. Alas, my lord, I cannot fight; for 
+God's sake, pity my case. The spite of man 
+prevaileth pe me. O Lord, have mercy 
+upon me! I shall never be able to fight a 
+‘blow. O Lord, my heart! 221 
+
+Glou. Sirrah, or you must fight, or else be 
+
+hang’d. 
+
+King. Away with them to prison; and the 
+day of combat shall be the last of the next 
+month. Come, Somerset, we'll see thee sent 
+away. [Flourish. Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Gtoucester’s garden. 
+
+
+Enter Marcery Jourpain, Hume, SouTH- 
+WELL, and BOLINGBROKE. 
+
+
+Hume. Come, my masters: the duchess, I 
+tell you, expects performance of your prom- 
+ises. 
+
+Boling. Master Hume, we are therefore 
+orovided: will her ladyship. behold and hear 
+
+
+our exorcisms ? 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. IV 
+
+
+Hume. Ay, what else? fear you not her 
+
+
+that Richard Duke of | courage. 
+
+
+Boling. I have heard her reported to be a 
+woman of an invincible spirit: but it shall be 
+convenient, Master Hume, that you be by her 
+aloft, while we be busy below; and so, I pray 
+you, go, in God's name, and leave us. [Exin 
+
+ume.] Mother Jourdain, be you prostrate 
+and grovel on the earth; John Southwell, 
+read you; and let us to our work. 
+
+
+Enter Duchess aloft, 
+
+
+Duch. Well said, my masters; and wel- 
+
+come all. To this gear the sooner the better. 
+
+Boling. Patience, good lady; wizards know 
+their times: 
+
+
+Hume following. 
+
+
+Deep night, dark night, the silent of the night, _ 
+
+
+The time of night when Troy was set on fire; 
+The time when screech-owls cry and ban- 
+dogs howl 
+And spirits walk and ghosts break up their 
+graves, 
+That time best fits the work we have in hand. 
+Madam, sit you and fear not: whom we raise, 
+We will make fast within a hallow'd verge. 
+[Here they do the ceremonies belonging, 
+and make the circle; Bolingbroke or 
+Southwell reads, Conjuro te, &c. Ii 
+thunders and lightens terribly; then 
+the Spirit riseth. 
+Spir. Adsum. 
+M. Jourd, Asmath, 
+By the eternal God, whose name and power 
+Thou tremblest at, answer that I shall ask; 
+For, till thou Speak, thou shalt not pass from 
+hence. 3 
+Spir. Ask what thou wilt. 
+and done! 
+Boling. ‘First of the king: what shall of 
+him become?’ [Reading out of a paper. 
+Spir. The duke yet lives that Henry shall 
+depose; 
+But him outlive, and die a violent death. 
+[As the Spirit speaks, Southwell 
+
+
+writes the answer. 
+
+
+0 
+That I had said 
+
+
+on 
+7 
+
+
+Boling. “What fates await the Duke of 
+Suffolk >” 
+Spir. By water shall he die, and take his — 
+
+
+end, 
+Boling. ‘What shall befall the Duke of 
+Somerset >” 
+Spir. Let him shun castles; 
+Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains 
+Than where castles mounted stand. 
+Have done, for more I hardly can endure. 
+Boling. Descend to darkness and the burn- 
+ing lake! 
+False. fiend, avoid! 
+
+
+[Thunder and lightning. Exit Soirit, 
+
+
+{ 
+
+
+Act II, Sc. 1] 
+
+
+Enter the DUKE oF YorRK and the DUKE OF 
+BuckincHam with their Guard and break in. 
+
+
+York. Lay hands upon these traitors and 
+their trash. 
+Beldam, I think we watch’d you at an inch. 
+What, madam, are you there? the king and 
+commonweal 
+Are deeply indebted for this piece of pains: 
+My lord protector will, I doubt it not, 
+See you well guerdon'd for these good deserts. 
+Duch. Not half so bad as thine to Eng- 
+land's king, 50 
+injurious duke, that threatest where 's no cause. 
+Buck. True, madam, none at all: what 
+call you this? 
+Away with them! let them be clapp'd up close, 
+And kept asunder. You, madam, shall with us. 
+Stafford, take her to thee. 
+[Exeunt above Duchess and Hume, guarded. 
+We'll see your trinkets here all forthcoming. 
+~All, away! 
+[Exeunt guard with Jourdain, Southwell, &c. 
+York. Lord Buckingham, methinks, you 
+watch'd her well: 
+A pretty plot, well chosen to build upon! 
+Now, pray, my lord, let’s see the devil’s writ. 
+What have we here? [ Reads, 
+‘The duke yet lives, that Henry shall depose; 
+But him outlive, and die a violent death.’ 
+Why, this is just 
+*Aio te, HEacida, Romanos vincere posse.” 
+Well, to the rest: 
+“Tell me what fate awaits the Duke of Suf- 
+folk? 
+By water shall he die, and take his end. 
+What shall betide the Duke of Somerset? 
+Let him shun castles; 
+Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains 
+Than where castles mounted stand.’ 
+Come, come, my lords; 
+These oracles are hardly attain'd, 
+And hardly understood. 
+The king is now in progress towards Saint 
+Alban’s, 
+With him the husband of this lovely lady: 
+Thither go these news, as fast as horse can 
+carry them: 
+A sorry breakfast for my lord protector. 
+Buck. Your grace shall give me leave, my 
+Lord of York, 
+To be the post, in hope of his reward. 
+York. At your pleasure, my good lord. 
+Who's within there, ho! 
+
+
+70 
+
+
+Enter a Servingman. 
+
+
+Invite my Lords of Salisbury and Warwick 
+To sup with me to-morrow night. Away! 
+[ Exeunt. 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+619 
+
+
+ACT II. 
+
+
+Scene I. Saint Alban’s. 
+
+
+Enter the Kinc, QUEEN, GLOUCESTER, Car- 
+DINAL, and SUFFOLK, with Falconers hal- 
+loing. 
+
+Queen. Believe me, lords, for flying at 
+the brook, 
+
+I saw not better sport these seven years’ day: 
+
+Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high; 
+
+And, ten to one, old Joan had not gone out. 
+King. But what a point, my lord, your 
+
+falcon made, 
+
+And what a pitch she flew above the rest! 
+
+To see how God in all his creatures works! 
+
+Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high. 
+Suf. No marvel, an it like your majesty, 
+
+My lord protector’s hawks do tower so well; 
+
+They know their master loves to be aloft 
+
+And bears his thoughts above his falcon‘s 
+
+pitch. 
+Glou. My lord, "tis but a base ignoble mind 
+
+That mounts no higher than a bird can soar. 
+Car. I thought as much; he would be 
+
+above the clouds. 
+Glou. Ay, my lord cardinal? how think 
+you by that? 
+
+Were it not good your grace could fly to 
+
+heaven? 
+King. The treasury of everlasting joy. 
+Car. Thy heaven is on earth; thine eyes 
+and_ thoughts 
+
+Beat on a crown, the treasure of thy heart; 
+
+Pernicious protector, dangerous peer, 
+
+That smooth’st it so with king and common- 
+
+weal! 
+Glou. What, cardinal, is your priesthood 
+grown peremptory ? 
+
+Tantene animis ccelestibus ira? 
+
+Churchmen so hot? good uncle, hide such 
+
+malice; 
+
+With such holiness can you do it? 
+
+Suf. No malice, sir; no more than well 
+becomes 
+
+So good a quarrel and so bad a peer. 
+
+Glou. As who, my lord? 
+Suf. Why, as you, my lord, 
+
+Ant like your lordly lord-protectorship. 30 
+Glou. Why, Suffolk, England knows thine 
+
+insolence. 
+Queen. And thy ambition, Gloucester. 
+King. I prithee, peace, good queen, 
+
+And whet not on these furious peers; 
+
+For blessed are the peacemakers on earth. 
+Car. Let me be blessed for the peace | 
+
+make, 
+
+Against this proud protector, with my sword! 
+Glou. [Aside to Car.] Faith, holy uncle, 
+
+
+would ‘twere come to that! 
+
+
+620 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+S = 
+
+
+Car. [Aside to Glou.] Marry, when thou | His highness’ pleasure is to talk with him. 
+
+
+darest. 
+Glou. [Aside fo Car.] Make up no fac- 
+tious numbers for the matter; 
+In thine own person answer thy abuse. 
+Car. [Aside to Glou.] Ay, where thou 
+darest not peep: an if thou darest, 
+This evening, on the east side of the grove. 
+King. How now, my lords! 
+Car. Believe me, cousin Gloucester, 
+Had not your man put up the fowl so sud- 
+denly, 
+We had had more sport. [Aside to Glou.] 
+Come with thy two-hand sword. 
+Glou. True, uncle. 
+Car. [Aside to Glou.] Are ye advised? 
+the east side of the grove? 
+Glou. [Aside to Car.J] Cardinal, I am 
+with you. 
+King. Why, how now, uncle Gloucester! 
+Glou. Talking of hawking; nothing else, 
+my lord. 50 
+[Aside to Car.] Now, by God's mother, 
+priest, I ‘ll shave your crown for this, 
+Or all my fence shall fal. 
+Car. [Aside to Glou.] Medice, teipsum— 
+Protector, see tot well, protect yourself. 
+King. The winds grow high; so do your 
+stomachs, lords. 
+How irksome is this music to my heart! 
+When such strings jar, what hope of harmony ? 
+I pray, my lords, let me compound this strife. 
+
+
+Enter a Townsman of Saint Alban’s, crying 
+“A miracle!” 
+
+
+Glou. What means this noise? 
+Fellow, what mracle dost thou proclaim? 60 
+Towns. A miracle! a miracle! 
+Suf. Come to the king and tell him what 
+miracle. 
+Towns. Forsooth, a blind man at Saint 
+Alban’s shrine, 
+Within this half-hour, hath received his sight; 
+A man that ne'er saw in his life before. 
+King. Now, God be praised, that to be- 
+lieving souls 
+Gives light in darkness, comfort in despair! 
+
+
+Enter the Mayor of Saint Alban’s and his 
+brethren, bearing Simpcox, between two 
+in a chair, Simpcox’s Wife following. 
+
+
+Car. Here comes the townsmen on proces- 
+sion, 
+To present your highness with the man. 
+King. Great is his comfort in this earthly 
+vale, 7C¢ 
+Although by his sight his sin be multiplied. 
+Glou. Stand by, my masters: bring him 
+near the king; 
+
+
+King. Good fellow, tell us here the cir- 
+
+
+cumstance, 
+
+
+40 | That we for thee may glorify the Lord. 
+
+
+What, hast thou been long blind and now 
+restored ? 
+Simp. Born blind, ant please your grace. 
+Wife. Ay, indeed, was he. 
+Suf. What woman is this? 
+Wife. His wife, an’t like your worship. 80 
+Glou. Hadst thou been his mother, thou 
+couldst have better told. 
+King. Where wert thou born? 
+Simp. At Berwick in the north, an't like 
+your grace. 
+King. Poor soul, God's goodness hath been 
+great to thee: 
+Let never day nor night unhallow’d pass, 
+But still remember what the Lord hath done. 
+Queen. Tell me, good fellow, camest thou 
+here by chance, 
+Or of devotion, to this holy shrine? 
+Simp. God knows, of pure devotion; being 
+call'd 
+A hundred times and oftener, in my sleep, 90 
+By good Saint Alban; who said, ‘Simpcox, 
+
+
+come, 
+
+Come, offer at my shrine, and I will help 
+thee.” 
+
+Wife. Most true, forsooth; and many time 
+
+
+and oft 
+Myself have heard a voce to call him so. 
+Car. What, art thou lame? 
+Simp. . Ay, God Almighty help me! 
+Suf. How camest thou so? 
+Simp. A fall off of a tree. 
+Wife. A plum-tree, master. 
+Glou. How long hast shou deen blind? 
+Simp. O, born so, master. 
+Glou. What, and wouldst climb a tree? 
+Simp. But that in all my life, when I was 
+a youth. 
+Wife. Too true; and bought his climbing 
+very dear. 100 
+Glou. Mass, thou lovedst plums well, that 
+wouldst venture so. 
+Simp. Alas, good master, my wife de- 
+sired some damsons, 
+And made me climb, with danger of my life. 
+Glou. A subtle knave! but yet it shall not” 
+serve. 
+Let me see thine eyes: wink now: now open 
+them: 
+In my opinion yet thou see’st not well. 
+Simp. Yes, master, clear as day, I thank 
+God and Saint Alban. 
+Glou. Say’st thou me so? What colour 
+is this cloak of? 
+Simp. Red, master: red as blood. 110 
+
+
+pape Le one 
+
+
+[Acral, Sete 
+
+
+} 
+
+
+on ee Oe ole 
+
+
+—. 
+
+
+pte way 
+
+
+Act Il, Se. I] 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+62) 
+
+
+Glou. Why, that's well said. What col- 
+
+our is my gown of > 
+
+Simp. Black, forsooth: coal-black as jet. 
+
+King. Why, then, thou know’st what col- 
+
+our jet is of? 
+
+Suf. And yet, | think, jet did he never see. 
+
+Glou. But cloaks and gowns, before this 
+
+day, a many. 
+
+Wife. Never, before this day, in all his 
+
+life. 
+
+Glou. Tell me, sirrah, what's my name? 
+
+Simp. Alas, master, 1 know not. 
+
+Glou. What's his name? 
+
+Simp. I know not. 
+
+Glou. Nor his? 
+
+Simp. No, indeed, master. 
+
+Glou. What's thine own name? 
+
+Simp. Saunder Simpcox, an if it please 
+
+> you, masier. 
+
+Glou. Then, Saunder, sit there, the lying- 
+est knave in Christendom. If thou hadst been 
+born blind, thou mightst as well have known 
+all our names as thus to name the several 
+colours we do wear. Sight may distinguish 
+of colours, but suddenly to nominate them all, 
+it is impossible, My lords, Saint Alban here 
+hath done a mracle; and would ye not think 
+his cunning to be great, that could restore this 
+cripple te his legs again? 
+
+Simp. O master, that you could! 
+
+Glou. My masters of Saint Alban’s, have 
+you not beadles in your town, and _ things 
+called whips? ' 
+
+May. Yes, my lord, if it please your grace. 
+
+Glou, Then send for one presently. 139 
+
+May. Sirrah, go fetch the beadle hither 
+straight, [Exit an Atiendant. 
+
+Glou. Now fetch me a stool hither by and 
+by. Now, srrah, if you mean to save your- 
+self from whipping, leap me over this stool 
+and run away, 
+
+Simp. Alas, master, | am not able to 
+
+stand alone: 
+_ You go about to torture me in vain. 
+
+
+Enter a Beadle with whips. 
+
+
+Glou. Well, sir, we must have you find 
+your legs. Sirrah beadle, whip him till he 
+leap over that same stool. 
+
+Bead, 1 will, my lord. Come on, sirrah; 
+off with your doublet quickly. 15] 
+
+Simp. Alas, master, what shall I do? I 
+am not able to stand. 
+
+[After the Beadle hath hit him once, 
+he leaps over the stool and runs 
+away; and they follow iand cry, 
+‘A miracle!’ 
+
+_ King. O God, seest Thou this, and bearest 
+
+
+so long? 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+Queen. It made me laugh to see the vil- 
+lain run. 
+Glou. Follow the knave; and take this 
+drab away. \ 
+Wife, Alas, sir, we did it for pure need. 
+Clou, Let them be whipped through every 
+market-town, till they come to Berwick, from 
+whence they came. 160 
+[Exeunt Wife, Beadle, Mayor, &c. 
+
+
+Car. Duke Humphrey has done a miracle 
+to-day. 
+
+Suf. True; made the lame to leap and fly 
+away. 
+
+
+Glou. But you have done move miracles 
+than I; 
+
+You made in a day, my lord, whole towns 
+to fly. 
+
+
+Enter BuckINGHAM. 
+
+
+King. What tidings with our cousin Buck- 
+ingham? 
+Buck. Such as my heart doth tremble to 
+~ unfold. 
+A sort of naughty persons, lewdly bent, 
+Under the countenance and confederacy 
+Of Lady Eleanor, the protector’s wife, 
+The ringleader and head of all this rout, 170 
+Have practised dangerously against your state, 
+Dealing with witches and with conjurers: 
+Whom we have apprehended in the fact; 
+Raising up wcked spirits from under ground, 
+Demanding of King Henry’s life and death, 
+And other of your highness’ privy-council; 
+As more at large your grace shall understand. 
+Car. [Aside to Glou,] And so, my lord 
+protector, by this means 
+Your lady is forthcoming yet at London. 
+This news, I think, hath turn’d your weapon's 
+
+
+edge; 180 
+"Tis like, my lord, you will not keep your 
+hour. 
+
+
+Glou, Ambitous churchman, leave to af- 
+flict my heart: 
+Sorrow and grief have vanquish’d all my 
+powers; 
+And, vanquish’d as I am, I yield to thee, 
+Or to the meanest groom, 
+King. O God, what mischiefs work the 
+wicked ones, 
+Heaping confusion on their own heads thereby! 
+Queen. Gloucester, see here the (ainture 
+of thy nest, 
+And look thyself be faultless, thou wert best. 
+Glou. Madam, for myself, to heaven I do 
+appeal, 190 
+How I have loved my king and commonweal: 
+And, for my w fe, I know not how it stands; 
+Sorry I am to hear what I have heard: 
+Noble she is, but if she have forgot 
+
+
+622 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+Honour and virtue and conversed with such 
+
+As, like to pitch, defile nobility, 
+
+I banish her my bed and company 
+
+And give her as a prey to law and shame, 
+
+That hath dishonour’d Gloucester’s honest 
+name. 
+
+King. Well, for this night we will repose 
+
+us here: 200 
+
+To-morrow toward London back again, 
+
+To look into this business thoroughly 
+
+And call these foul offenders to their answers 
+
+And poise the cause in justice’ equal scales, 
+
+Whose beam stands sure, whose rightful cause 
+prevails, [Flourish Exeunt. 
+
+
+London. The Duke oF Yorx’s 
+garden. 
+
+
+Enter York, SALisBurY, and Warwick. 
+
+
+York. Now, my good Lords of Salisbury 
+and Warwick, 
+
+Our simple supper ended, give me leave 
+
+In this close walk to satisfy myself, 
+
+In craving your opinion of my ttle, 
+
+Which is infallible, to England’s crown. 
+Sal. My lord, I long to hear it at full. 
+War. Sweet York, begin: and if thy claim 
+
+be good, 
+
+The Nevils are thy subjects to command, 
+York. Then thus: 
+
+Edward the Third, my lords, had seven sons: 
+
+The first, Edward the Black Prince, Prince 
+
+of Wales; 11 
+
+The second, Will'am of Hatfield, and the third, 
+
+Lionel Duke of Clarence; next to whom 
+
+Was John of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster; 
+
+The fifth was Edmund Langley, Duke of 
+
+York; 
+
+The sixth was Thomas of Woodstock, Duke 
+
+of Gloucester; 
+
+William of Windsor was the seventh and last. 
+
+Edward the Black Prince died before his 
+
+father 
+
+And left behind h'm Richard, his only son, 
+
+Who after Edward the Third’s death reign'd 
+
+as king; 20 
+
+Till Henry Bolingbroke, Duke of Lancaster, 
+
+The eldest son and her of John of Gaunt, 
+
+Crown'd by the name of Henry the Fourth, 
+
+Seized on the realm, deposed the rightful king, 
+
+Sent his poor queen to France, from whence 
+
+she came, 
+
+And him to Pomfret; where, as all you know, 
+
+Harmless Richard was murder’d traitorously. 
+War. Father, the duke hath told the truth; 
+
+Thus got the house of Lancaster the crown. 
+York. Which now they hold by force and 
+
+not by right: 30 
+
+For Richard, the first son’s heir, being dead, 
+
+The issue of the next son should have reign’'d. 
+
+
+Scene II. 
+
+
+[Acr II, Sc. II 
+
+
+Sal. But William of Hatfield died with- 
+out an he.r. 
+York. The third son, Duke of Clarence. 
+from whose line 
+I claim the crown, had issue, Philippe, a 
+daughter, 
+Who married Edmund Mortimer, Earl of 
+March: 
+Edmund had issue, Roger Earl of March: 
+Roger had issue, Edmund, Anne and Eleanor. 
+Sal. This Edmund, in the reign of Boling- 
+broke, 
+As I| have read, laid claim unto the crown; 
+And, but for Owen Glendower, had been king, 
+Who kept him in captivity till he died. 
+But to the rest. 
+Y ork. His eldest sister, Anne, 
+My mother, being heir unto the crown, 
+Married Richard Earl of Cambridge; who 
+was son 
+To Edmund Langley, Edward the Third’s 
+fifth son. 
+By her J claim the kingdom: she was heir 
+To Roger Earl of March, who was the son 
+Of Edmund Mortimer, who married Philippe, 
+Sole daughter unto Lionel Duke of Clarence: 
+So, if the issue of the elder son 51 
+Succeed before the younger, I am king. 
+War. What plain proceeding is more plain 
+than this? 
+Henry doth claim the crown from John of 
+aunt, 
+The fourth son; York claims it from the third. 
+Till Lionel’s issue fails, his should not 1 
+It fails not yet, but flourishes in thee 
+And in thy sons, fair slips of such a stock, 
+Then, father Salisbury, kneel we together; 
+And in this private plot be we the first 60 
+That shall salute our rightful sovereign 
+With honour of his birthright to the crown. 
+Both. Long live our sovereign Richard, 
+England's king! 
+York. We thank you, lords. 
+not your k ng j 
+Till I be crown'd and that my sword be stain’d 
+With heart-blood of the house of Lancaster; 
+And that’s not suddenly to be perform’d, 
+But with advice and silent secrecy. 
+Do you as I do in these dangerous days: 
+Wink at the Duke of Suffolk’s insolence, 70 
+At Beaufort’s pride, at Somerset's ambition, 
+At Buckingham and all the crew of them, 
+Till they have snared the shepherd of the flock, 
+That virtuous prince, the good Duke Hum- 
+phrey: 
+‘Tis that they seek, and they in seeking that 
+Shall find their deaths, if York can prophesy. 
+Sal, My lord, break we off; we know your 
+mind at full. 
+
+
+But I _am 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+Act I, Sc. 11} 
+
+
+War. My heart assures me that the Earl of 
+Warwick 
+Shall one day make the Duke of York a king. 
+York. And, Nevil, this I do assure myself: 
+Richard shall live to make the Earl of War- 
+
+
+wick 
+The greatest man in England but the king. 
+[Exeunt. 
+Scene III]. A hall of justice. 
+
+
+Sound trumpets. Enter the Kinc, the QUEEN, 
+GLOUCESTER, YORK, SUFFOLK, and SALIS- 
+BURY; the DucHess oF GLOUCESTER, 
+Marcery, JourDAIN, SOUTHWELL, Hume, 
+and BouincBRoKE, under guard. 
+
+
+King. Stand forth, Dame Eleanor Cobham, 
+Gloucester’s w:fe: 
+In sight of God and us, your guilt is great: 
+Receive the sentence of the law for sins 
+
+
+Such as by God’s book are adjudged to death. 
+
+
+~ You four, from hence to prison back again; 
+
+
+From thence unto the place of execution: 
+The witch in Smithfield shall be burn’d to 
+ashes, 
+And you three shall be strangled on the 
+gallows. 
+You, madam, for you are more nobly born, 
+Despoiled of your honour in your life, 10 
+Shall, after three days’ open penance done 
+Live in your country here in banishment, 
+With Sir John Stanley, in the Isle of Man. 
+Duch. Welcome is banishment; welcome 
+were my death. 
+Glou. Eleanor, the law, thou see’st, hath 
+. judged thee: 
+} cannot justify whom the law condemns. 
+[Exeunt Duchess and other prisoners, 
+guarded. 
+Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief. 
+Ah, Humphrey, this dishonour in thine age 
+Will bring thy head with sorrow to the 
+ground! 
+T beseech your majesty, give me leave to go; 
+Sorrow would solace and mine age would ease. 
+King. Stay, Humphrey Duke of Glouces- 
+ter: ere thou go, ; 
+Give up thy staff: Henry will to himself 
+Protector be; and God shall be my hope, 
+My stay, my guide and lantern to my feet: 
+And go in peace, Humphrey, no less beloved 
+Than wher thou wert protector to thy king. 
+Queen. I see no reason why a king of 
+years 
+Should be to be protected like a child. 29 
+God and King Henry govern England's realm. 
+Give up your staff, sir, and the king his realm. 
+Glou. My staff? here, noble Henry, is my 
+staff : 
+As willingly do I the same resign 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+623 
+
+
+As e’er thy father Henry made it mine; 
+And even as willingly at thy feet I leave it 
+As others would ambitiously receive it. 
+Farewell, good king: when I am dead and 
+gone, 
+May honourable peace attend thy throne! 
+[ Exit. 
+Queen. Why, now is Henry king, and 
+Margaret queen; 
+And Humphrey Duke of Gloucester scarce 
+himself, 40 
+That bears so shrewd a maim; two pulls at 
+once; 
+His lady banish'd, and a limb lopp'd off. 
+This staff of honour raught, there let it stand 
+Where it best fits to be, in Henry’s hand. 
+Suf. Thus droops this lofty pine and hangs 
+his sprays; 
+Thus Eleanor’s pride d’es in her youngest days. 
+York. Lords, let him go. Please it your 
+majesty, 
+This is the day appointed for the combat; 
+And ready are the appellant and defendant, 
+The armourer and his man, to enter the lists, 
+So please your highness to behold the fight. 51 
+Queen. Ay, good my lord; for purposely 
+therefore 
+Left I the court, to see this quarrel tried. 
+King. O’ God's name, see the lists and all 
+things fit: 
+Here let them end it; and God defend the 
+right! 
+York. I never saw a fellow worse bested, 
+Or more afraid to fight, than is the appellant, 
+The servant of ths armourer, my lords, 
+
+
+Enter at one door, Horner, the Armourer, 
+and his Neighbours, drinking to him so 
+much that he is drunk; and he enters with 
+a drum before him and his staff with a 
+sand-bag fastened to il; and at the other 
+door PETER, his man, with a drum and 
+sand-bag, and ’Prentices drinking to him. 
+
+
+First Neigh. Here, neighbour Horner, | 
+drink to you in a cup of sack: and fear not, 
+neighbour, you shall do well enough. 61 
+
+Sec, Neigh. And here, neighbour, here's a 
+cup of charneco. 
+
+Third Neigh. And here's a pot of good 
+double beer, neighbour: drink, and fear not 
+your man. 
+
+Hor. Let it come, i’ faith, and I'll pledge 
+you all; and a fig for Peter! 
+
+First "Pren. Here, Peter, I drink to thee: 
+and be not afraid. 
+
+Sec. "Pren. Be merry, Peter, and fear not 
+thy master: fight for credit of the ‘prentices. 
+
+Peter. | thank you all: drink, and pra 
+for me, I pray you; for I think I have takex” 
+
+
+624 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+fe Sp, ee ae 
+5 bees as 
+
+
+[Acr I, Se. IV 
+
+
+oO 58858 EEE EE 
+
+
+my last draught in this world. Here, Robin, 
+an if I die, I give thee my apron: and, Will, 
+thou shalt have my hammer: and here, Tom, 
+take all the money that I have. O Lord bless 
+me! I pray God! for I am never able to 
+deal with my master, he hath learnt so much 
+fence already. 
+
+Sal. Come, leave your drinking, and fall 
+to blows. Sirrah, what's thy name? 81 
+
+Peter. Peter, forsooth. 
+
+Sal. Peter! what more? 
+
+Peter. Thump. 
+
+Sal, Thump! 
+master well, 
+
+Hor. Masters, I am come hither, as it 
+were, upon my man’s instigation, to prove him 
+a knave and myself an honest man: and 
+touch'ng the Duke of York, I will take my 
+death, I never meant him any ill, nor the king, 
+vor the queen: and therefore, Peter, have at 
+thee with a down-right blow! 
+
+York. Dispatch: this knave’s tongue begins 
+
+to double. 
+Sound, trumpets, alarum to the combatants! 
+[Alarum. They fight, and Peter strikes 
+him down. 
+
+Hor. Hold, Peter, hold! I confess, I con- 
+fess treason. [Dies. 
+
+York. Take away his weapon. Fellow, 
+thank God, and the good wine in thy mas- 
+ter’s way. 
+
+Peter. O God, have I overcome mine en- 
+emy in this presence? O Peter, thou hast 
+prevailed in right! 
+
+King. Go, take hence that traitor from our 
+
+sight; 
+For by his death we do perceive his guilt: 
+And God in justice hath reveal’d to us 
+The truth and innocence of this poor fellow, 
+Which he had thought to have murder'd 
+wrongfully. 
+Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward. 
+[Sound a flourish. Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. 4 street. 
+
+
+Enter Groucester and his Servingmen, in 
+mourning cloaks. 
+
+Glou. Thus sometimes hath the brightest 
+
+day a cloud; 
+And after summer evermore succeeds 
+Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold: 
+So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet. 
+Sirs, what’s o'clock? 
+
+Serv. Ten, my lord. 
+
+Glou, Ten is the hour that was appointed me 
+To watch the coming of my punish’d duchess: 
+Uneath may she endure the flint’ streets, 
+To tread them with her tender-feeling feet. 
+
+
+then see thou thump thy 
+
+
+The abject people gazing on thy face, 
+
+With envious looks, laughing at thy shame, 
+
+That erst did follow thy proud chariot-wheels 
+
+When thou didst ride in triumph through the 
+streets, 
+
+But, soft! I think she comes; and I'll pre- 
+pare 
+
+My tear-stain’d eyes to see her miseries, 
+
+
+Enter the Ducuess or GLOUCESTER in a 
+white sheet, and a taper burning in her 
+hand; with Sir Joun STANLEY, the Sher- 
+if, and Officers. 
+
+
+Serv. So please your grace, we'll take 
+her from the sheriff. 
+Glou. No, stir not, for your lives; let her 
+
+
+pass by. 
+Duch, Come you, my lord, to see my open 
+shame? 
+Now thou dost penance too. Look how they 
+gaze! 
+
+
+See how the giddy multitude do point, 
+And nod their heads, and throw their eyes 
+on thee! 
+Ah, Gloucester, hide thee from their hateful 
+looks, 
+And, in thy closet pent up, rue my shame, 
+And ban thine enemies, both m’ne and thine! 
+Glou. Be patient, gentle Nell; forget this 
+grief, 
+Duch, Ah, Gloucester, teach me to forget 
+myself! 
+For whilst { think I am thy married wife 
+And thou a prince, protector of this land, 
+Methinks I should not thus be led along, 30 
+
+
+Mail’d up in shame, with papers on my back, 
+
+
+And follow’d with a rabble that rejoice 
+To see my tears and hear my deep-fet groans, 
+The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet, 
+And when I start, the envous people laugh 
+And bid me be advised how I tread. 
+Ah, Humphrey, can I bear this shameful yoke? 
+Trow’st thou that e’er I ‘Il look upon the world, 
+Or count them happy that enjoy the sun? 
+No; dark shall be my light and night my day; 
+To think upon my pomp shall be my hell. 41 
+Sometime I'll say, I am Duke Humphrey’s 
+wife, 
+And he a prince and ruler of the land: 
+Yet so he ruled and such a prince he was 
+As he stood by whilst I, his forlorn duchess, 
+Was made a wonder and a pointing-stock 
+To every idle rascal follower. 
+But be thou mild and blush not at my shame, 
+Nor stir at nothing till the axe of death 
+Hang over thee, as, sure, it shortly will; 50 
+
+
+For Suffolk, he that can do all in all 
+
+
+Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind abrook 10] With her that hateth thee and hates us all, 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+® 
+§ 
+b 
+f 
+t 
+
+
+j 
+bi 
+
+
+me 
+i 
+’ 
+2 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+. 
+; 
+
+
+And York and impious Beaufort, that false |Only convey me where thou art commanded. 
+
+
+priest, 
+Have all limed bushes to betray thy wings, 
+fanch ty thou how thou canst, they ‘Il tangle 
+thee: 
+But fear not thou, until thy foot be snared, 
+Nor never seek prevention of thy foes, 
+Glou. Ah, Nell, forbear! thou aimest all 
+awry; 
+I must offend before I be attainted; 
+And had I twenty times so many foes, 60 
+And each of them had twenty times their 
+power, 
+All these could not procure me any scathe, 
+So long as | am loyal, true and crimeless. 
+Wouldst have me rescue thee from this re- 
+proach? 
+Why, yet thy scandal were not wiped away, 
+But I in danger for the breach of law. 
+Thy greatest help is quiet, gentle Nell: 
+_ 1 pray thee, sort thy heart to patience; 
+These few days’ wonder will be quickly worn. 
+
+
+Enter a Herald. 
+
+
+Her. 1 summon your grace to his maj- 
+esty’s parliament, 70 
+Holden at Bury the first of this next month. 
+Glou. And my consent ne'er ask’d herein 
+: before! 
+This is close dealing. Well, I will be there. 
+[Exit Herald. 
+My “Nell, I take my leave: and, master sheriff, 
+Let not her penance exceed the king’s com- 
+mission. 
+Sher. An’t please your grace, here my 
+* commission stays, 
+And Sir John Stanley is appointed now 
+To take her with him to the Isle of Man. 
+Glou. Must you, Sir John, protect my lady 
+here? 
+Stan. So am I given in charge, may 't 
+please your grace. 
+Glou. Entreat her not the worse in that 
+ra 
+You use her well: the world may laugh again; 
+And I may live to do you kindness if 
+You do it her: and so, Sir John, farewell! 
+Duch, What, gone, my lord, and bid me 
+not farewell! 
+Glou. Witness my tears, I cannot stay to 
+speak. 
+[Exeunt Gloucester and Servingmen. 
+Duch. Art thou gone too? all comfort go 
+with thee! 
+For none abides with me: my joy is death; 
+Death, at whose name I oft have been afear'd. 
+Because | wish’d this world’s eternity. 90 
+Stanley, I prithee; go, and take me hence; 
+¥ care not whither, for J beg no favour, 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+625 
+
+
+Stan. Why, madam, that is to the Isle of 
+Man; 
+There to be used accord’ng to your state. 
+Duch, That’s bad enough, for I am but 
+reproach: 
+And shall I then be used reproachfully 2 
+Stan. Like to a duchess, and Duke Hum- 
+phrey’s lady; 
+According to that state you shall be used. 
+Duch. Sheriff, farewell, and better than I 
+fare, 100 
+Alhough thou hast been conduct of my shame. 
+Sher, It is my office; and, madam, par- 
+don me. 
+Duch. Ay, ay, farewell; thy office is dis- 
+charged. 
+Come, Stanley, shall we go? 
+Stan. Madam, your penance done, throw 
+off this sheet, 
+And go we to attire you for our journey. 
+Duch. My shame will not be shifted with 
+my sheet: 
+No, it will hang upon my richest robes 
+And show itself, attire me how I can. 
+Go, lead the way; I long to see my prison. 
+[Exeunt, 
+
+
+ACT IiIl. 
+
+
+Scene I. The Abbey at Bury St Edmund's. 
+
+
+Sound a sennet. Enter the Kine, the QUEEN, 
+CaRDINAL, BEAUFORT, SUFFOLK, YorK, 
+BuckiNcHAM, SALISBURY and WaRWICK 
+to the Parliament. 
+
+
+King. I muse my Lord of Gloucester is 
+not come: 
+"Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man, 
+Whate’er occasion keeps him from us now. 
+Queen. Can you not see? or will ye not 
+observe 
+
+
+0. | The strangeness of his alter’d countenance? 
+
+
+With what a majesty he bears himself, 
+
+How insolent of late he is become, 
+
+How proud, how peremptory, and unlike 
+himself > 
+
+We know the time since he was mild and 
+affable, 
+
+And if we did but glance a far-off look, 10 
+
+Immediately he was upon his knee, 
+
+That all the court admired him for submission: 
+
+But meet him now, and, be it in the morn, 
+
+When every one will give the time of day, 
+
+He knits his brow and shows an angry eye 
+
+And passeth by with stiff unbowed knee, 
+
+Disdaining duty that to us belongs. 
+
+Small curs are not regarded when they grin; 
+
+But great men tremble when the lion roars; 
+
+And Humphrey is no little man in England. 
+
+
+626 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+[Acr Ill, Sc. i 
+
+
+First note that he is near you in descent, 
+And should you fall, he is the next will mount. 
+Me seemeth then it is no policy, 
+Respecting what a rancorous mind he bears 
+And his advantage following your decease, 
+That he should come about your royal person 
+Or be admitted to your highness’ council. 
+By flattery that he won the commons’ hearts. 
+And when he please to make commotion, 
+"Tis to be fear'd they all will follow him. 30 
+Now 'tis the spring, and weeds are shallow- 
+rooted; 
+Suffer them now, and they'll o’ergrow the 
+garden 
+And choke the herbs for want of husbandry. 
+The reverent care I bear unto my lord 
+Made me collect these dangers in the duke. 
+If it be fond, call it a woman's fear; 
+Which fear if better reasons can supplant, 
+I will subscribe and say I wrong'd the duke. 
+My Lord of Suffolk, Buckingham, and York, 
+Reprove my allegation, if you can; 40 
+Or else conclude my words effectual. 
+Suf. Well hath your highness seen into this 
+duke; 
+And, had I first been put to speak my mind, 
+I think I should have told your grace’s tale. 
+The duchess by his subornation, 
+Upon my life, began her devilish practices: 
+Or, if he were not privy to those faults, 
+Yet, by reputing of his high descent, 
+As next the king he was successive heir, 
+And such high vaunts of his nobility, 
+Did instigate the bedlam brain-sick duchess 
+By wicked means to frame our sovereign’s fall. 
+Smooth runs the water where the brook is 
+deep; 
+And in his simple show he harbours treason. 
+The fox barks not when he would steal the 
+lamb. 
+No, no, my sovereign; Gloucester is a man 
+Unsounded yet and full of deep deceit. 
+Car. Did he not, contrary to form of law, 
+Devise strange deaths for small offences done? 
+York. And did he not, in his protectorship, 
+Levy great sums of money through the realm 
+For soldiers’ pay in France, and never sent it? 
+By means whereof the towns each day revolted. 
+Buch. Tut, these are petty faults to faults 
+unknown, 
+Which time will bring to light in smooth 
+Duke Humphrey. 
+King. My lords, at once: the care you 
+
+
+50 
+
+
+have of us, 
+
+To mow down thorns that would annoy our 
+foot, 
+
+Is worthy praise: but, shall I speak my con- 
+science, 
+
+
+Our kinsman Gloucester is as innocent 
+
+
+From meaning treason to our royal person 70 
+
+As is the sucking lamb or harmless dove: 
+
+The duke is virtuous, mild and too well given 
+
+To dream on evil or to work my downfall. 
+
+Queen. Ah, what’s more dangerous than 
+
+this fond affiance! 
+
+Seems he a dove? his feathers are but bor- 
+row'd, 
+
+For he’s disposed as the hateful raven: 
+
+Is he a lamb? his skin is surely lent him, 
+
+For he’s inclined as is the ravenous wolf, 
+
+Who cannot steal a shape that means deceit? 
+
+Take heed, my lord; the welfare of us all 80 
+
+Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man. 
+
+
+Enter SoMERSET, 
+Som. All health unto my gracious sover- 
+
+
+eign! 
+King. Welcome, Lord Somerset. What 
+news from France? 
+Som. That all your interest in those terri- 
+tories 
+Is utterly bereft you; all is lost, 
+King. Cold news, Lord Somerset: but 
+God’s will be done! 
+York. [Aside] Cold news for me; for I 
+had hope of France 
+As firmly as { hope for fertile England. 
+Thus are my blossoms blasted in the bud 
+And caterpillars eat my leaves away; 
+But I will remedy this gear ere long, 
+Or sell my title for a glorious grave. 
+
+
+Enter GLoucestTEr. 
+
+
+Glou. All happiness unto my lord the 
+king! 
+Pardon, my liege, that I have stay’d so long. 
+Suf. Nay, Gloucester, know that thou art 
+come too soon, 
+Unless thou wert more loyal than thou art: 
+I do arrest thee of high treason here. 
+Glou. Well, Suffolk, thou shalt not see me 
+blush 
+Nor change my countenance for this arrest: 
+A heart unspotted is not easily daunted. 100 
+The purest spring is not so free from mud 
+As I am clear from treason to my sovereign: 
+Who can accuse me? wherein am I guilty? 
+York. ‘Tis thought, my lord, that you took 
+bribes of France, 
+And, being protector, stay’d the soldiers’ pay; 
+By means whereof his highness hath lost 
+France. 
+Glou. Is it but thought so? what are they 
+that think it? 
+I never robb’d the soldiers of their pay, 
+Nor ever had one penny bribe from France. 
+Se help me God, as I have watch’d the night, 
+Ay, night by night, in studying good for 
+England, 1) 
+
+
+90 
+
+
+EE 
+
+
+Act Ill, Sc. t 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+627 
+
+
+That doit that e’er I wrested from the king, 
+Or any groat I hoarded to my use, 
+Be brought against me at my trial-day! 
+
+
+' No; many a pound of mine own proper store, 
+
+
+Because I would not tax the needy commons, 
+Have I dispursed to the garrisons, 
+And never ask'’d for restitution. 
+Car. It serves you well, my lord, to say 
+so much. 
+Glou. I say no more than truth, so help me 
+God! 120 
+York. In your protectorship you did devise 
+Strange tortures for offenders never heard of, 
+That England was defamed by tyranny. 
+Glou. Why, ‘tis well known that, whiles 
+I was protector, 
+Pity was all the fault that was in me; 
+For I should melt at an offender's tears, 
+And lowly words were ransom for their fault. 
+Unless it were a bloody murderer, 
+
+
+- Or foul felonious thief that fleeced poor pas- 
+
+
+sengers, 
+I never gave them condign punishment: 
+Murder indeed, that bloody sin, | tortured 
+Above the felon or what trespass else. 
+Suf. My lord, these faults are easy, quickly 
+answer d: 
+But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge, 
+Whereof you cannot easily purge yourself, 
+I do arrest you in his highness’ name; 
+And here commit you to my lord cardinal 
+To keep, until your further time of trial. 
+King. My Lord of Gloucester, ‘tis my spe- 
+cial hope 
+That you will clear yourself from all suspect: 
+My conscience tells me you are innocent. 141 
+Glou. Ah, gracious lord, these days are 
+dangerous: 
+Virtue is choked with foul ambition 
+And charity chased hence by rancour’s hand; 
+Foul subornation is predominant 
+And equity exiled your highness’ land. 
+I know their complot is to have my life, 
+And if my death might make this island happy 
+And prove the period of their tyranny, 
+I would expend it with all willingness: 150 
+But mine is made the prologue to their play; 
+For thousands more, that yet suspect no peril, 
+Will not couclude their plotted tragedy. 
+Beaufort’s red sparkling eyes blab his heart's 
+malice, 
+And Suffolk’s cloudy brow his stormy hate; 
+Sharp» Buckingham unburthens with his tongue 
+The envious load that lies upon his heart; 
+And dogged York, that reaches at the moon, 
+Whose overweening arm I have pluck’d back, 
+By false accuse doth level at my life: 160 
+And you, my sovereign lady, with the rest, 
+Causeless have laid disgraces on my head 
+
+
+130 
+
+
+And with your best endeavour have stirr’d up 
+My liefest liege to be mine enemy: 
+Ay, all of you nave laid your heads together— 
+Myself had notice of your conventicles— 
+And all to make away my guiltless life. 
+I shall not want false witness to condemn me, 
+Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt; 
+The ancient proverb will be well effected: 170 
+‘A staff is quickly found to beat a dog.’ 
+Car. My liege, his railing is intolerable: 
+If those that care to keep your royal person 
+From treason’s secret knife and traitors’ rage 
+Be thus upbraided, chid and rated at, 
+And the offender granted scope of speech, 
+"Twill make them cool in zeal unto your grace. 
+Suf. Hath he not twit our sovereign lady 
+here 
+With ignominious 
+couch'd, 
+As if she had suborned some to swear 
+False allegations to o’erthrow his state? 
+Queen. But I can give the loser leave to 
+chide. 
+Glou. Far truer spoke than meant: 1 lose, 
+indeed; 
+Beshrew the winners, for they play’d me false! 
+And well such losers may have leave to speak. 
+Buck. He'll wrest the sense and hold us 
+here all day: 
+Lord cardinal, he is your prisoner. 
+Car, Sirs, take away the duke, and guard 
+him sure. 
+Glou. Ah! thus King Henry throws away 
+his crutch 
+Before his legs be firm to bear his body. 190 
+Thus is the shepherd beaten from thy side 
+ais wolves are gnarling who shall gnaw thee 
+rst. 
+Ah, that my fear were false! ah, that it were! 
+For, good King Henry, thy decay I fear. 
+[Exit, guarded. 
+King. My lords, what to your wisdoms 
+seemeth best, 
+Do or undo, as if ourself were here. 
+Queen. What, will your highness leave the 
+parliament > 
+King. Ay, Margaret; my heart is drown’d 
+with grief, 
+Whose flood begins to flow within mine eyes, 
+My body round engirt with misery, 200 
+For what's more miserable than discontent? 
+Ah, uncle Humphrey! in thy face I see 
+The map of honour, truth and loyalty: 
+And yet, good Humphrey, is the hour te 
+come 
+That e’er I proved thee false or fear'd thy faith. 
+What louring star now envies thy estate, 
+That these great lords and Margaret our queen 
+Do seek subversion of thy harmless life? 
+
+
+though clerkly 
+
+
+180 
+
+
+words, 
+
+
+628 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+ae ee 
+
+
+[Acr Ill, Se. I 
+
+
+Thou never didst them wrong nor no man 
+wrong; 
+And as the butcher takes away the calf 210 
+And binds the wretch and beats it when it 
+strays, 
+Bearing it to the bloody slaughter-house, 
+Even so remorseless have they borne him 
+hence; 
+And as the dam runs lowing up and down, 
+Looking the way her harmless young one went, 
+And can do nought but wail her darling’s loss, 
+Even so myself bewails good Gloucester’s case 
+With sad unhelpful tears, and with dimm’d eyes 
+Look after him and cannot do him good, 
+So mighty are his vowed enemies. 220 
+His fortunes I will weep and ‘twixt each groan 
+Say ‘Who's a traitor? Gloucester he is none.” 
+[Exeunt all but Queen, Cardinal Beaufort, 
+Suffolk, and York; Somerset remains apart. 
+Queen. Free lords, cold snow melts with 
+the sun’s hot beams. 
+Henry my lord is cold in great affairs, 
+Too full of foolish p'ty, and Gloucester’s show 
+Beguiles him as the mournful crocodile 
+With sorrow snares relenting passengers, 
+Or as the snake roll'd in a flowering bank, 
+With shining checker'd slough, doth sting a 
+child 
+That for the beauty thinks it excellent. 230 
+Believe me, lords, were none more wise than I— 
+And yet herein I judge mine own wit good— 
+This Gloucester should be quickly rid the 
+world, 
+To rid us from the fear we have of him. 
+Car. That he should die is worthy policy; 
+But yet we want a colour for his death; 
+"Tis meet he be condemn’d by course of law. 
+Suf. But, in my mind, that were no policy: 
+The king will labour still to save his life, 
+The commons haply rise, to save his life; 240 
+And yet we have but trivial argument, 
+More than mistrust, that shows him worthy 
+death. 
+York. So that, by this, you would not 
+have him die. 
+Suf.° Ah, York, no man alive so fain as I! 
+York. "Tis York that hath more reason 
+for his death. 
+But, my lord cardinal, and you, my Lord of 
+Suffolk, 
+Say as you think, and speak it from your souls, 
+Were 't not all one, an empty eagle were set 
+To guard the chicken from a hungry kite, 
+As place Duke Humphrey for the king’s pro- 
+tector ? 250 
+Queen. So the poor chicken should be 
+sure of death. 
+Suf. Madam, ‘tis true; and were’t not 
+madness, then, 
+
+
+To make the fox surveyor of the fold? 
+Who being accused a crafty murderer, 
+His guilt should be but idly posted over, 
+Because his purpose is not executed, 
+No; let him die, in that he is a fox, 
+By nature proved an enemy to the flock, 
+Before his chaps be stain’d with crimson blood, 
+As Humphrey, proved by reasons, to my liege, 
+And do not stand on quillets how to slay 
+him: 261 
+Be it by gins, by snares, by subtlety, 
+Sleeping or waking, ‘tis no matter how, 
+So he be dead; for that is good deceit 
+Which mates him first that first intends deceit. 
+Queen. Thrice-noble Suffolk, “tis resolutely 
+spoke. 
+Suf. Not resolute, except so much were 
+done; 
+For things are often spoke and seldom meant; 
+But that my heart accordeth with my tongue, 
+Seeing the deed is meritorious, 270 
+And to preserve my sovereign from his foe, 
+Say but the word, and I will be his priest. 
+Car. But I would have him dead, my 
+Lord of Suffolk, 
+Ere you, can take due orders for a priest: 
+Say you consent and censure well the deed, 
+And I'll provide his executioner, 
+I tender so the safety of my liege. 
+Suf. Here is my hand, the deed is worthy 
+doing. 
+Queen. And so say I. 
+York. And I: and now we three have 
+spoke it, 280 
+It skills not gteatly who impugns our doom. 
+
+
+Enter a Post. 
+
+
+Post. Great lords, from Ireland am I come 
+amain, 
+To signify that rebels there are up 
+And put the Englishmen unto the sword: 
+Send succours, lords, and stop the rage betime, 
+Before the wound do grow uncurable; 
+For, being green, there is great hope of help. 
+Car. A breach that craves a quick expedi- 
+ent stop! 
+What counsel g've you in this weighty cause? 
+York. That Somerset be sent as regent 
+thither: 290 
+"Tis meet that lucky ruler be employ'’d; 
+Witness the fortune he hath had in France. 
+Som. If York, with all his far-fet policy, 
+Had been the regent there instead of me, 
+He never would have stay’d in France so long. 
+York. No, not to lose it all, as thou hast 
+done: 
+I rather would have lost my life betimes 
+Than bring a burthen of dishonour home 
+By staying there so long till all were lost. 
+
+
+“4 
+
+
+eee 
+
+
+“Act Hl, Se. 1] 
+aan 
+
+
+Show me one scar character'd on thy skin: 300 
+_ Men's flesh preserved so whole do seldom win. 
+Queen. Nay, then, this spark will prove 
+. a raging fire, 
+"If wind and fuel be brought to feed it with: 
+_ No more, good York; sweet Somerset, be still: 
+_ Thy fortune, York, hadst thou been regent 
+there, 
+Might happily have proved far worse than his. 
+York. What, worse than nought? nay, 
+then, a shame take all! 
+Som. And, in the number, thee that wish- 
+est shame! 
+Car, My Lord of York, 
+fortune is. 
+_ The uncivil kerns of Ireland are in arms 310 
+-. And temper clay with blood of Englishmen: 
+To Ireland will you lead a band of men, 
+Collected choicely, from each county some, 
+\ And try “Aad hap aga nst the Irishmen? 
+et cia I will, my lord, so please his maj- 
+
+
+try what your 
+
+
+Suf. Why, our authority is his consent, 
+_ And what we do establish he confirms: 
+Then, noble York, take thou this task in hand. 
+York. 1 am content: provide me soldiers, 
+lords, 
+~ Whiles I take order for mine own affairs. 320 
+Suf. A charge, Lord York, that I will see 
+
+
+: perform’'d. 
+_ But now return we to the false Duke Hum- 
+phrey. 
+Car. No more of him; for I will deal with 
+him 
+
+
+_ That henceforth he shall trouble us no more. 
+And so break off; the day is almost spent: 
+Lord Suffolk, you and I must talk of that 
+event. 
+
+York. My Lord of Suffolk, within fourteen 
+a days 
+At Bristol I expect my soldiers; 
+4 For there I"ll ship them all for Ireland. 
+
+
+York. [Exeunt all but York. 
+York. Now, York, or never, steel thy fear- 
+a ful thoughts, 331 
+_ And change misdoubt to resolution: 
+
+Be that thou hopest to be, or what thou art 
+
+_ Resign to death; it is not worth the enjoying: 
+
+Let pale-faced fear keep with the mean-born 
+
+Fa man, 
+
+_ And find no harbour in a royal heart. 
+
+Faster than spring-time showers comes thought 
+on thought, 
+
+_ And not a thought but thinks on dignity. 
+
+_ My brain more busy than the labouring spider 
+‘Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies. 
+Well, nobles, well, ‘tis politicly done, 341 
+
+_ To send me packing with an host of men: 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+Suf. I'll see it truly done, my Lord of | 
+
+
+629 
+
+
+I fear me you but warm the starved snake, 
+
+Who, cherish’d in your breasts, will sting your 
+hearts. 
+
+"Twas men I lack’d and you will give them 
+me: 
+
+I take it kindly; yet be well assured 
+
+You put sharp weapons in a madman’s hands. 
+
+Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mighty band, 
+
+I will stir up in England some black storm 
+
+ae blow ten thousand souls to heaven or 
+ell; 
+
+And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage 
+
+Until the golden circuit on my head, 
+
+Like to the glorious sun’s transparent beams, 
+
+Do calm the fury of this mad-bred flaw. 
+
+And, for a minister of my intent, 
+
+I have seduced a headstrong Kentishman, 
+
+John Cade of Ashford, 
+
+To make a commotion, as full well he can, 
+
+Under the title of John Mortimer. 
+
+In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade 360 
+
+Oppose himself against a troop of kerns, 
+
+And fought so long, till that his thighs with 
+darts 
+
+Were almost like a sharp-quill’d porpentine; 
+
+And, in the end being rescued, I have seen 
+
+Him caper upright like a wild Morisco, 
+
+Shaking the bloody darts as he his bells. 
+
+Full often, like a shag-hair’d crafty kern, 
+
+Hath he conversed with the enemy, 
+
+And undiscover’d come to me again 
+
+And given me notice of their villanies. 
+
+This dev 1 here shall be my substitute; 
+
+For that John Mortimer, which now is dead, 
+
+In face, in gait, in speech, he doth resemble: 
+
+By this I shall perceive the commons’ mind, 
+
+How they affect the house and claim of York. 
+
+Say he be taken, rack’d and tortured, 
+
+I know no pain they can inflict upon him 
+
+Will make him say I moved him to those arms. 
+
+Say that he thrive, as ‘tis great like he will, 
+
+Why, then from Ireland come I with my 
+strength 380 
+
+And reap the harvest which that rascal saw’d; 
+
+For Humphrey being dead, as he shall be, 
+
+And Henry put apart, the next for me. [Exit. 
+
+
+370 
+
+
+Scene II. Bury St Edmund’s. A room 
+
+
+of state. 
+Enter certain Murderers, hastily. 
+First Mur. Run to my Lord of Suffolk; let 
+
+
+him know 
+
+
+We have dispatch’d the duke, as he com- 
+manded. 
+Sec. Mur. O that it were to do! What 
+
+
+. have we done? 
+Didst ever hear a man so penitent? 
+
+
+Enter SUFFOLK. 
+
+
+630 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+[Acr If, Se. II 
+
+
+First Mur. Here comes my lord. 
+Suf. Now, sirs, have you dispatch'd this 
+thing? 
+First Mur. Ay, my good lord, he's dead. 
+Suf. Why, that’s well said. Go, get you 
+to my house: 
+I will reward you for this venturous deed. 
+The king and all the peers are here at hand. 
+Have you laid fair the bed? Is all things well, 
+According as I gave my directions? 
+First Mur. "Tis, my good lord. 
+Suf. Away! be gone. [Exeunt Murderers. 
+
+
+Sound trumpets. Enter the Kine, the QUEEN, 
+CaRDINAL BEAuFoRT. SOMERSET, with At- 
+tendants. 
+
+
+King. Go, call our uncle to our presence 
+straight; 
+Say we intend to try his grace to-day, 
+If he be guilty, as ‘tis published. 
+Suf. I'll call him presently, my noble lord. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+King. Lords, take your places; and, I pray 
+you all, 
+Proceed no straiter ‘gainst our uncle Glou- 
+cester 
+
+
+‘Than from true evidence of good esteem 21 
+He be approved in practice culpable. 
+Queen. God forbid any malice should pre- 
+vail, 
+That faultless may condemn a nobleman! 
+Pray God he may acquit him of suspicion! 
+King. I thank thee, Meg; these words 
+
+
+content me much. 
+Re-enter SUFFOLK. 
+
+
+How now! why look’st thou pale? why 
+tremblest thou? 
+Where is our uncle? what's the matter, 
+Suffolk > 
+Suf. Dead in his bed, my lord; Gloucester 
+is dead. 
+Queen. Marry, God forfend! 30 
+Car. God's secret judgement: I did dream 
+to-night 
+The duke was dumb and could not speak a 
+word, [The King swoons. 
+Queen. How fares my lord? Help, lords! 
+the king is dead. 
+Som. Rear up his body; wring him by the 
+nose. 
+Queen. Run, go, help, help! O Henry, 
+ope thine eyes! 
+Suf. He doth revive again: madam, be 
+patient. 
+King. O heavenly God! 
+~ Queen. How fares my gracious lord? 
+Suf. Comfort, my sovereign! gracious 
+Henry. comfort] ~ 
+
+
+King. What, doth my Lord of Suffolk 
+comfort me? 
+Came he right now to sing a raven’s note, 40 
+Whose dismal tune bereft my vital powers; 
+And thinks he that the chirping of a wren, 
+By crying comfort from a hollow breast, 
+Can chase away the first-conceived sound? 
+Hide not thy poison with such sugar’d words; 
+Lay not thy hands on me; forbear, I say; 
+Their touch affrights me as a serpent's sting. 
+Thou baleful messenger, out of my sight! 
+Upen thy eye-balls murderous tyranny 
+Sits in grim majesty, to fright the world. 50 
+Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wound- 
+ing: 
+Yet do not go away: come, basilisk, 
+And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight; 
+For in the shade of death I shall find joy; 
+In life but double death, now Gloucester’s 
+dead. 
+Queen. Why do you rate my Lord of Suf- 
+folk thus? 
+Although the duke was enemy to him, 
+Yet he most Christian-like laments his death: 
+And for myself, foe as he was to me, 
+Might liquid tears or heart-offending groans 
+Or blood-consuming sighs recall his life, 
+I would be blind with weeping, sick with 
+groans, 
+Look pale as primrose with blood-drinking 
+sighs, 
+And all to have the noble duke alive. 
+What know I how the world may deem of me? 
+For it is known we were but hollow friends: 
+It may be judged I made the duke away; 
+So shall my name with slander’s tongue be 
+wounded, 
+And princes’ courts be fill’d with my reproach. 
+This get I by his death: ay me, unhappy! 70 
+To be a queen, and crown'd with infamy! 
+King. Ah woe is me, for Gloucester, 
+wretched man! 
+Queen. Be woe for me, more wretched 
+than he is. 
+What, dost thou turn away and hide thy face > 
+I am no loathsome leper; look on me. 
+What! art thou, like the adder, waxen deaf? 
+Be poisonous too and kill thy forlorn queen. 
+Is all thy comfort shut in Gloucester’s tomb? 
+Why, then, dame Margaret was ne'er thy joy. 
+Erect his statua and worship it, 80 
+And make my image but an alehouse sign. 
+Was I for this nigh wreck'd upon the sea 
+And twice by awkward wind from England's 
+bank 
+Drove back again unto my native clime? 
+What boded this, but well forewarn'ng wind 
+Did seem to say ‘Seek not a scorpion’s nest, 
+
+
+i Nor set no footing on this unkind shore’? 
+
+
+——- .. 
+
+
+“When from thy shore the tempest beat us back, 
+
+
+Act Ill, Sc. I] §=SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 631 
+
+
+What did I then, but cursed the gentle gusts War. -That shall I do, my liege. Stay, 
+And he that loosed them forth their brazen Salisbury, 
+
+
+caves; With the rude multitude till I return. [Exit, 
+And bid them blow towards England’s blessed} King. O Thou that judgest all things, stay 
+shore, 90 my thoughts, 
+Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock? My thoughts, that labour to persuade my soul 
+Yet AEolus would not be a murderer, Some violent hands were laid on Humphrey's 
+And left that hateful office unto thee: life! 
+
+
+The pretty-vaulting sea refused to drown me, |If my suspect be false, forg’ve me, God, 
+Knowing that thou wouldst have me drown’d |For judgement only doth belong to Thee. 140 
+
+
+on shore, -|Fain would I go to chafe his paly lips 
+With tears as salt as sea, through thy un- | With twenty thousand kisses and to drain 
+kindness: Upen his face an ocean of salt tears, 
+
+
+The splitting rocks cower'd in the sink’ng j To tell ary love unto his dumb deaf trunk 
+sands And with my fingers feel his hand unfeeling: 
+
+And would not dash me with their ragged | But all in vain are these mean obsequies; 
+sides, £ And to survey his dead and earthy image, 
+
+Because thy flinty heart, more hard than they, | What were it but to make my sorrow greater? 
+
+
+Might in thy palace perish Margaret. 100 R : 
+3 e-enter WARWICK, and others, bearing 
+As far as I could ken thy chalky cliffs, GiOUeE Sten aE yan aetbede 
+
+
+I stood upon the hatches in the storm, War. Come hither, gracious sovereign, view 
+And when the dusky sky began to rob this body. 
+My earnest-gaping sight of thy land’s view, King. That is to see how deep my grave is 
+I took a costly jewel from my neck, made; 150 
+A heart it was, bound in w:th diamonds, For with his soul fled all my worldly solace, 
+And threw it towards thy land: the sea re- |For seeing him I see my life in death. 
+ceived it, War. As surely as my soul intends to live 
+And so I wish'd thy body might my heart: | With that dread King that took our state upon 
+And even with this I lost fair England's view him 
+
+
+And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart | To free us from his father’s wrathful curse, 
+And call’d them blind and dusky spectacles, |1 do believe that violent hands were laid 
+
+
+For losing ken of Albion’s w'shed coast. Upon the life of this thrice-famed duke. 
+How often have I tempted Suffolk’s tongue, Suf. A dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn 
+The agent of thy foul inconstancy, tongue! 
+
+To sit and witch me, as Ascanius did What instance gives Lord Warwick for his 
+When he to madding Dido would unfold vow? 
+
+His father’s acts commenced in burning Troy! War. See how the blood is settled in his 
+Am I not witch’d like her? or thou not false face. 
+
+~~ like him? Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost, 
+
+Ay me, I can no more! die, Margaret! 120|Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale and blood- 
+For Henry weeps that thou dost live so long. less, 
+
+
+2 te Being all descended to the labouring heart; 
+Noise within, Enter Warwick, SALISBURY, Who, in the conflict that it holds with death, 
+
+
+and many Commons. Attracts the same for aidance ‘gainst the 
+
+
+War. It is reported, mighty sovereign, enemy; 
+That good Duke Humphrey traitorously ‘is| Which with the heart there cools and ne'er 
+murder’d returneth 
+By Suffolk and the Cardinal Beaufort’s means. | To blush and beautify the cheek again. 
+The commons, like an angry hive of bees But see, his face is black and full of blood, 
+
+
+That want their leader, scatter up and down | His eye-balls further out than when he lived, 
+And care not who they sting in his revenge. | Staring full ghastly like a strangled man; 
+Myself have calm'd their spleenful mutiny, | His hair uprear’d, his nostrils stretched with 
+Until they hear the order of his death. struggling; 
+King. That he is dead, good Warwick, a His hands abroad display’d, as one that grasp’d 
+130 
+
+
+too true; And tugg’d for life and was by strength sub- 
+But how he died God knows, not Henry: dued: 
+Enter his chamber, view his breathless corpse, |Look, on the sheets his hair, you see, is 
+And comment then upen his sudden death. | sticking; 
+
+
+632 
+
+
+His well-proportion’d beard made rough and 
+rugged, 
+Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodged. 
+It cannot be but he was murder’d here; 
+The least of all these signs were probable. 
+Suf. Why, Warwick, who should do the 
+duke to death? 
+Myself and Beaufort had him in protection; 
+And we, I hope, sir, are no murderers, 181 
+War. But both of you were vow’'d Duke 
+Humphrey's foes, 
+And you, forsooth, had the good duke to keep: 
+"Tis like you would not feast him like a friend; 
+And ‘tis well seen he found an enemy. 
+Queen. Then you, belike, suspect these 
+noblemen 
+As guilty of Duke Humprey’s timeless death. 
+War. Who finds the heifer dead and 
+bleeding fresh 
+And sees fast by a butcher with an axe, 
+But will suspect ‘twas he that made the 
+slaughter > 190 
+Who finds the partridge in the puttock’s nest, 
+But may imagine how the bird was dead, 
+Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak? 
+Even so suspicious is this tragedy. 
+Queen. Are you the butcher, Suffolk? 
+Where's your kn fe? 
+Is Beaufort term’d a kite? Where are his 
+talons? 
+Suf. I wear no knife to slaughter sleeping 
+men; 
+But here ’s a vengeful sword, rusted with ease, 
+That shall be scoured in his rancorous heart 
+That slanders me with murder’s cr.mson 
+badge. 
+Say, if thou darest, proud Lord of Warwick- 
+shire, 201 
+That I am faulty in Duke Humphrey’s death. 
+[Exeunt Cardinal, Somerset, and others. 
+War. What dares not Warwick, if false 
+Suffolk dare him? 
+Queen. He dares not calm his contumelious 
+spirit 
+Nor cease to be an arrogant controller, 
+Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand 
+times. 
+War. Madam, be still; with reverence may 
+I say; 
+for every word you speak in his behalf 
+Is slander to your royal dignity. 
+Suf, Blunt-witted lord, ignoble in demean- 
+our! 210 
+[f ever lady wrong’d her lord so much, 
+Thy mother took into her blameful bed 
+Some stern untutor’d churl, and noble stock 
+Was graft with crab-tree slip; whose fruit 
+thou art 
+And never of the Nevils’ noble race. 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+[Acr Ill, Sc. 1 
+
+
+War. But that the guilt of murder buck- 
+lers thee 
+And I should rob the deathsman of his fee, 
+Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames, 
+And that my sovereign’s presence makes me 
+mild, 
+I would, false murderous coward, on thy knee 
+Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech 
+And say it was thy mother that thou mean’st, 
+That thou thyself was born in bastardy; 
+And after all this fearful homage done, 
+Give thee thy hire and send thy soul to hell, 
+Pernicious blood-sucker of sleeping men! 
+Suf. Thou shalt be waking while I shed 
+thy blood, 
+
+
+If from this presence thou darest go with me. 
+
+
+War. Away even now, or I will drag thee. 
+
+
+hence: 229 
+Unworthy though thou art, I ‘Il cope with thee 
+And do some service to Duke Humphrey’s 
+
+ghost. [Exeunt Suffolk and Warwick. 
+
+King. What stronger breastplate than a 
+heart untainted! 
+Thrice is he arm’d that hath his quarrel just, 
+And he but naked, though lock’d up in steel, 
+Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted, 
+[A noise within, 
+Queen. What noise is this? 
+
+
+Re-enter SUFFOLK and Warwick, with their 
+Deapons drawn. 
+
+
+King. Why, how now, lords! your wrath- 
+ful weapons drawn 
+Here in our presence! dare you be so bold? 
+Why, what tumultuous clamour have we here? 
+Suf. The traitorous Warwick with the men 
+of Bury 240 
+Set all upon me, mighty sovereign. 
+Sal. [To the Commons, entering] Sirs, 
+stand apart; the king shall know your mind. 
+Dread lord, the commons send your word by 
+
+
+me, i 
+Unless Lord Suffolk straight be done to death, 
+Or banished fair England's territories, 
+They will by violence tear him from your 
+
+palace 
+And torture him with grievous linger'ng death, 
+They say, by him the good Duke Humphrey 
+
+died; 
+They say, in him they fear your highness’ 
+death; 
+And mere instinct of love and loyalty, 250 
+Free from a stubborn opposite intent, 
+As being thought to contradict your liking, 
+Makes them thus forward in his banishment. 
+They say, in care of your most royal person, 
+That if your highness should intend to sleep 
+And charge that no man should disturb your 
+rest 
+
+
+= 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+n pain of your dislike or pain of death, 
+Yet, notwithstanding such a strait edict, 
+
+_ Were there a serpent seen, with forked tongue, 
+That slily glided towards your majesty, 260 
+Tt were but necessary you were waked, 
+Lest, being suffer’'d in that harmful denen, 
+The mortal worm might make the sleep eternal ; 
+_ And therefore do they cry, though you forbid, 
+That they will guard you, whether you will 
+or no, 
+From such fell serpents as false Suffolk is, 
+
+_ With whose envenomed and fatal sting, 
+Your loving uncle, twenty times his worth, 
+‘They say, is shamefully bereft of life. 
+‘Commons. [Within] An answer from the 
+king, my Lord of Salisbury! 270 
+
+» Suf. "Tis like the commons, rude unpol- 
+1 ish’d hinds, 
+
+Could send such message to their sovereign: 
+But you, my lord, were glad to be employ'd, 
+To show how quaint an orator you are: 
+But all the honour Salisbury hath won 
+
+Is that he was the lord ambassador 
+
+Sent from a sort of tinkers to the king. 
+
+_ Commons. [Within] An answer from the 
+‘king, or we will all break in! 
+
+King. Go, Salisbury, and tell them all 
+from me, 
+
+_ | thank them for their tender loving care; 280 
+_ And had I not been cited so by them, 
+
+Yet did I purpose as they do entreat; 
+
+_ For, sure, my thoughts do hourly prophesy 
+_Mischance unto my state by Suffolk's means: 
+_ And therefore, by His majesty I swear, 
+
+_ Whose far unworthy deputy I am, 
+
+He shall not breathe infection in this air 
+et three days longer, on the pain of death. 
+[Exit Salisbury. 
+Queen. O Henry, let me plead for gentle 
+
+Suffolk! 
+
+_ King. Ungentle queen, to call him gentle 
+Suffolk! 290 
+No more, I say: if thou dost plead for him, 
+
+Thou wilt but add increase unto my wrath. 
+ad | but sad, I would have kept my word, 
+But when I swear, it is irrevocable. 
+
+If, after three days’ space, thou here be’st 
+found 
+
+On any ground that I am ruler of, 
+
+The world shall not be ransom for thy life. 
+Come, Warwick, come, good Warwick, go 
+with me; 
+
+J have great matters to impart to thee. 
+
+f [Exeunt all but Queen and Suffolk. 
+~ Queen. Mischance and sorrow go alono 
+with you! 300 
+~ Heart’s discontent and sour affliction 
+; is playfellows to keep you company! 
+
+_ There ’s two of you; the devil make a third! 
+
+
+w 
+be Jie 
+
+
+iF z 
+
+
+633 
+
+
+And threefold vengeance tend upon your steps! 
+Suf. Cease, gentle queen, these execrations 
+And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave. 
+Queen. Fie, coward woman and _ soft. 
+hearted wretch! 
+Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemy ? 
+Suf. A ‘plague upon them! wherefore 
+should I curse them? 
+Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake’s 
+groan, 310 
+I would invent as bitter-searching terms, 
+As curst, as harsh and horrible to hear, 
+Deliver’d strongly through my fixed teeth, 
+With full as many signs of deadly hate, 
+As lean-faced Envy in her loathsome cave: 
+My tongue should stumble in mine earnest 
+words; 
+Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint; 
+Mine hair be fix'd on end, as one distract; 
+Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban: 
+And even now my burthen’d heart would 
+break, 
+
+
+Shall I not curse them! Poison be their 
+
+
+drink! 321 
+Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they 
+taste! 
+
+
+Their sweetest shade a grove of cypress trees! - 
+Their chiefest prospect murdering basilisks! 
+Their softest touch as smart as lizards’ stings! 
+Their music fr ghtful as the serpent’s hiss, 
+reat screech-owls make their concert 
+ull! 
+All the foul terrors in deep-seated hell— 
+Queen. Enough, sweet Suffolk; thou tor- 
+ment’st thyself; 
+And these dread curses, like the sun ‘gainst 
+glass, 
+Or like an overcharged gun, recoil, 
+And turn the force of them upon thyself, 
+Suf. You bade me ban, and will you bid 
+me leave? 
+Now, by the ground that I am banish’d from, 
+Well could I curse away a winter's night, 
+Though standing naked on a mountain top, 
+Where bit'ng cold would never let grass grow, 
+And think it but a minute spent in sport. 
+Queen. O, let me entreat thee cease. Give 
+me thy hand, 
+That I may dew it with my mournful tears; 
+Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place, 341 
+To wash away my woful monuments. 
+O, could this kiss be printed in thy hand, 
+That thou mightst think upon these by the 
+seal, 
+Through whom a thousand sighs are breathed 
+for thee! 
+So, get thee gone, that | may know my grief; 
+"Tis but surmised whiles thou art standing by. 
+As one that surfeits thinking on a want. 
+
+
+634 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+[Acr IlI,Sc, III 
+
+
+I will repeal thee, or, be well assured, 
+
+Adventure to be banished myself: 
+
+And banished I am, if but from thee. 
+
+Go; speak not to me; even now be gone. 
+
+O, go not yet! Even thus two friends con- 
+demn’'d 
+
+Embrace and kiss and take ten thousand leaves, 
+
+Loather a hundred times to part than die, 
+
+Yet now farewell; and farewell life with thee! 
+
+Suf. Thus is poor Suffolk ten times ban- 
+
+ished; 3 
+
+Once by the king, and thee times thrice by 
+thee. 
+
+"Tis not the land I care for, wert thou thence; 
+
+A wilderness is populous enough, 360 
+
+So Suffolk had thy heavenly company: 
+
+Fox where thou art, there is the world itself, 
+
+With every several pleasure in the world, 
+
+And where thou art not, desolation. 
+
+I can no more: live thou to joy thy life; 
+
+Myself no joy in nought but that thou livest. 
+
+
+Enter Vaux. 
+
+
+Queen. Whither goes Vaux so fast? what 
+news, I prithee? 
+Vaux. To signify unto his majesty 
+That Cardinal Beaufort is at point of death; 
+For suddenly a grievous sickness took him, 
+That makes him gasp and stare and catch 
+the air, 
+Blaspheming God and cursing men on earth. 
+Sometime he talks as if Duke Humphrey’s 
+ghost 
+Were by his side; sometime he calls the king 
+And whispers to his pillow as to hita 
+The secrets of his overcharged soul: 
+And I am sent to tell his majesty 
+That even now he cries aloud for him. 
+Queen. Go tell this heavy message to the 
+
+
+350 
+
+
+king. [Exit Vaux. 
+Ay me! what is this world! what news are 
+these! 380 
+
+
+But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor loss, 
+Omitting Suffolk's exile, my soul's treasure? 
+Why only, Suffolk, mourn I not for thee, 
+And with the southern clouds contend in tears, 
+Theirs for the earth’s increase, mine for my 
+sorrows > 
+Now get thee hence: the king, thou know’st, 
+is coming; 
+If thou be found by me, thou art but dead. 
+Suf. If 1 depart from thee, I cannot live; 
+And in thy s'ght to die, what were it else 
+But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap? 390 
+Here could I breathe my soul into the air, 
+As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe 
+Dying with mother’s dug between its lips: 
+Where, from thy sight, I should be raging mad 
+And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes, 
+
+
+To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth; 
+So shouldst thou either turn my flying soul, 
+Or I should breathe it so into thy body, 
+And then it lived in sweet Elysium. 
+To die by thee were but to die in jest; 400 
+From thee to die were torture more than death: 
+O, let me stay, befall what may befall! . - 
+Queen. Away! though parting be a fretful 
+corrosive, 
+It is applied to a deathful wound. 
+To France, sweet Suffolk: let me hear from 
+thee; 
+For wheresoe’er thou art in this world’s globe, 
+I'll have an Iris that shall find thee out. 
+Suf. I go. 
+Queen. And take my heart with thee. 
+Suf. A jewel, lock’d into the wofull’st cask +: 
+That ever did contain a thing of worth. 410 
+Even as a splitted bark, so sunder we: 
+This way I fall to death. 
+Queen. This way for me. 
+[Exeunt serverally. 
+
+
+Scene III. A bedchamber. 
+
+
+Enter the Kinc, SavisBury, Warwick, to 
+the CARDINAL in bed. 
+
+
+King. How fares my lord? speak, Beau- 
+fort, to thy sovereign. 
+Car. If thou be’st death, I'll give thee 
+England's treasure, 
+Enough to purchase such another island, 
+So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain, 
+King. Ah, what a sign it is of evil life, 
+Where death's approach is seen so terrible! 
+War, Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks 
+to thee. 
+Car. Bring me unto my trial when you 
+will, 
+Died he not in his bed? where should he die? 
+Can I make men live, whether they will or no? 
+O, torture me no more! I will confess. 1] 
+Al've again? then show me where he is: 
+I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him. 
+He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them. 
+Comb down his hair; look, look{ it stands 
+upright, 
+Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul. 
+Give me some drink; and bid the apothecary 
+Bring the strong poison that I bought of him. 
+King. O thou eternal Mover of the heavens, 
+Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch! 20 
+O, beat away the busy meddling fiend 
+That lays strong siege unto this wretch’s soul 
+And from his bosom purge this black despair? 
+War. See, how the pangs of death do 
+make him grin! 
+Sal. Disturb him not; let him pass peace- 
+ably. 
+
+
+- Act IV, Se. I] 
+
+
+King. Peace to his soul, if God's good 
+pleasure be! 
+Lord cardinal, if thou think’st on heaven's 
+bliss, 
+Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope. 
+He dies, and makes no sign. O God, forgive 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+635 
+
+
+And so should these, if I might have my will. 
+Cap. Be not so rash; take ransom, let him 
+live. 
+Suf. Look on my George; 
+man: 
+Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid. 
+
+
+I am a gentle- 
+
+
+him! z Whit, And so am I; my name is Walter 
+War. So bad a death argues a monstrous Whitmore. 31 
+life. 0| How now! why start’st thou? what, doth 
+
+
+King. Forbear to judge, for we are sinners 
+all. ; ; 
+
+Close up his eyes and draw the curtain close; 
+
+And let us all to meditation. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT IV. 
+
+
+Scene I. The coast of Kent. 
+
+
+Alarum, Fight at sea. Ordnance goes off. 
+Enter a Captain, a Master, a Master’s-Mate, 
+Water WHuiTMoRE, and others; with 
+them SuFFOLK, and others, prisoners. 
+
+Aas The gaudy, blabbing and remorseful 
+ay 
+
+Is crept into the bosom of the sea; 
+
+And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades 
+
+That drag the tragic melancholy night; 
+
+Who, with their drowsy, slow and flagging 
+
+wings, 
+
+Clip dead men’s graves and from their misty 
+
+jaws 
+Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air. 
+Therefore bring forth the soldiers of our pr'ze; 
+For, whilst our pinnace anchors in the Downs, 
+Here shall they make their ransom on the 
+_ sand, 
+Or with their blood stain this discolour'd shore. 
+Master, this prisoner freely give I thee; 
+And thou that art his mate, make boot of this; 
+The other, Walter Whitmore, is thy share. 
+First Gent. What is my ransom, master? 
+let me know. 
+
+Mast. A thousand crowns, or else lay down 
+your head. 
+
+Mate. And so much shall you give, or off 
+goes yours. 
+
+Cap. What, think you much to pay two 
+thousand crowns, 
+
+And bear the name and port of gentlemen? 
+
+Cut both the villains’ throats; for die you shall: 
+
+The lives of those which we have lost in fight 
+
+Be counterpoised with such a petty sum! 
+
+
+First Gent. I'll give it, sir; and therefore 
+Spare my life. 
+Sec. Gent. And so will I and write home 
+
+
+for it straight. 
+
+
+Whit. I lost mine eye in laying the prize 
+aboard, 
+And therefore to revenge it, shalt thou die; 
+
+
+(To Suf. 
+
+
+death affright>? 
+Suf. Thy name affrights me, in whose 
+sound is death. 
+A cunning man did calculate my birth 
+And told me that by water I should die: 
+Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded; 
+Thy name is Gualtier, being rightly sounded. 
+Whit. Gaultier or Walter, which it is, I 
+care not: 
+Never yet did base dishonour blur our name, 
+But with our sword we wiped away the blot; 
+Therefore, when merchant-like I sell revenge, 
+Broke be my sword, my arms torn and de- 
+faced, 
+And I proclaim’d a coward through the world! 
+Suf. Stay, Whitmore; for thy prisoner is a 
+prince, 
+The Duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole. 
+Whit. The Duke of Suffolk muffled up in 
+rags! 
+Suf. Ay, but these rags are no part of the 
+duke: 
+Jove sometime went disguised, and why not I>? 
+Cap. But Jove was never slain, as thou 
+shalt be. 
+Suf. Obscure and King 
+Henry’s blood, 50 
+The honourable blood of Lancaster, 
+Must not be shed by such a jaded groom. 
+Hast thou not kiss’d thy hand and held my 
+stirrup ? 
+Bare-headed plodded by my foot-cloth mule 
+And thought thee happy when I shook my 
+head ? 
+How often hast thou waited at my cup, 
+Fed from my trencher, kneel’d down at the 
+board, 
+When I have feasted with Queen Margaret? 
+Remember it and let it make thee crest-fall'n, 
+Ay, and allay this thy abortive pride; 60 
+How in our voiding lobby hast thou stood 
+And duly waited for my coming forth? 
+The hand of mine hath writ in thy behalf 
+And therefore shall it charm thy riotous tongue. 
+Whit. Speak, captain, shall I stab the for- 
+lorn swain? 
+Cap. First let my words stab him, as he 
+hath me. 
+Suf. Base slave, thy words are blunt and 
+so art thou. 
+
+
+lowly swain, 
+
+
+636 
+
+
+hl) Ser. 
+2 , 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI __[Acr IV, Sc, II 
+
+
+Cap. Convey him hence and on our long- ly charge thee waft me safely cross the Channel. 
+
+
+boat's. side 
+
+
+Strike off his head. 
+
+
+Suf. Thou darest not, for thy own. 
+Cap. Yes, Pole. 
+
+Suf. Pole! 
+
+Cap. Pool! Sir Pool! lord! 70 
+
+
+Ay, kennel, puddle, sink; whose filth and dirt 
+
+Troubles the silver spring where England 
+drinks. 
+
+Now will I dam up this thy yawning mouth 
+
+For swallowing the treasure of the realm: 
+
+Thy lips that kiss’d the queen shall sweep the 
+ground; 
+
+And thou that smiledst at good Duke Hum- 
+phrey’s death 
+
+Against the senseless winds shall grin in vain, 
+
+Who in contempt shall hiss at thee again: 
+
+And wedded be thou to the hags of hell, 
+
+For daring to affy a mighty lord 
+
+Unto the daughter of a worthless king, 
+
+Having neither subject, wealth, nor diadem. 
+
+By devilish policy art théu grown great 
+
+And, like ambitious Sylla, overgorged 
+
+With gobbets of thy mother’s bleeding heart. 
+
+By thee Anjou and Maine were sold to France, 
+
+The false revolting Normans through thee 
+
+Disdain to call us lord, and Picardy 
+
+Hath slain their governors, surprised our forts 
+
+And sent the ragged soldiers wounded home. 
+
+The princely Warwick, and the Nevils all, 
+
+Whose dreadful swords were never drawn in 
+vain, 
+
+As hating thee, are rising up in arms: 
+
+And now the house of York, thrust from the 
+crown 
+
+By shameful murder of a guiltless. king 
+
+And lofty proud encroaching tyranny, 
+
+Burns wth revenging fire; whose hopeful 
+colours 
+
+Advance our half-faced sun, striving to shine, 
+
+Under the which is writ ‘Invitus nubibus.’ 
+
+The commons here in Kent are up in arms: 
+
+And, to conclude, reproach and beggary 
+
+Is crept into the palace of our king, 
+
+And all by thee. Away! convey him hence. 
+
+Suf. O that I were a god, to shoot forth 
+
+thunder 
+
+Upon these paltry, servile, abject drudges! 
+
+Small things make base men proud: this vil- 
+lain here, 
+
+Being captain of a pinnace, threatens more 
+
+Than Bargulus the strong Illyrian pirate. 
+
+Drones suck not eagles’ blood but rob bee- 
+hives: 
+
+It is impossible that I should die 110 
+
+By such a lowly vassal as thyself. 
+
+Thy words move rage and not remorse in me: 
+
+I go of message from the queen to France; 
+
+
+80 
+
+
+Cap. Walter,— 
+Whit. Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to 
+thy death. 
+Suf. Gelidus timor occupat artus, it is thee 
+I fear. 
+Whit. Thou shalt have cause to fear be- 
+fore I leave thee. 
+What, are ye daunted now? now will ye 
+stoop ? 
+First Gent. My gracious lord, entreat him, 
+speak him fair, 120 
+Suf. Suffolk's imperial tongue is stern and 
+rough, 
+Used to command, untaught to plead for 
+favour. 
+Far be it we should honour such as these 
+With humble suit: no, rather let my head 
+Stoop to the block than these knees bow to any 
+Save to the God of heaven and to my king; 
+And sooner dance upon a bloody pole 
+Than stand uncover'd to the vulgar groom, 
+True nobility is exempt from fear: 
+More can I bear than you dare execute, 130 
+Cap. Hale him away, and let him talk no 
+more. 
+Suf. Come, soldiers, show what cruelty ye 
+can, 
+That this my death may never be forgot! 
+Great men oft die by vile bezonians: 
+A Roman sworder and banditto slave ; 
+Murder’d sweet Tully; Brutus’ bastard hand 
+Stabb'd Julius Cesar; savage islanders 
+Pompey the Great; and Suffolk dies by pirates. 
+[Exeunt Whitmore and others with Suffolk. 
+Cap. And as for these whose ransom we 
+have set, 
+It is our pleasure one of them depart: 140 
+Therefore come you with us and let him go. 
+[Exeunt all but the First Gentleman. 
+
+
+Re-enter Writmore with SuFFOLK’s body. 
+Whit. There let his head and lifeless. body 
+
+
+Ve. 
+Until the queen his mistress bury it.  [Exit. 
+First Gent. O barbarous and bloody spec- 
+tacle! 
+His body will I bear unto the king: 
+If he revenge it not, yet will his friends; 
+So will the queen, that living held him dear. 
+[Exit with the body. 
+
+
+Scene II. Blackheath. 
+Enter Georce Bevis and JoHn Hotanp. 
+Bevis. Come, and get thee a sword, though 
+made of lath: they have been up these two 
+days. 
+Holl. They have the more need to sleep 
+now, then. 
+
+
+AN 
+
+
+: 
+‘ 
+. 
+
+
+Ss cia ee ee 
+
+
+x Wee 
+
+
+: yes Sc. Wy} | 
+
+
+land since gentlemen came up. 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+637 
+
+
+Bevis. | tell. thee, Jack Cade the clothier 
+
+
+means to dress the commonwealth, and turn 
+
+
+_ it, and set a new nap upon it. 
+
+
+Holl. So he had need, for ‘tis threadbare. 
+
+
+Well, I say it was never merry world in Eng- 
+
+
+Bevis. O miserable age! virtue is not re- 
+garded in handicrafts-men. 
+
+Holl. The nobility think scorn to go in 
+leather aprons. 
+
+Bevis, Nay, more, the king’s council are 
+no good workmen. 
+
+Holl, True; and yet it is said, labour in 
+thy vocation; which is as much to say as, let 
+the magistrates be labouring men; and there- 
+fore should we become magistrates. 20 
+
+Bevis. Thou hast hit it; for there’s no 
+better sign of a brave mind than a hard hand. 
+
+Holl. I see them! I see them! There's 
+Best's son, the tanner of Wingham,— 
+
+Bevis. He shall have the skins of our 
+enemies, to make dog’s-leather of. 
+
+Holl. And Dick the Butcher,— 
+
+Bevis. Then is sin struck down like an ox, 
+and iniquity’s throat cut like a calf. 
+
+Holl. And Smith the weaver,— 30 
+
+Bevis. Argo, their thread of life is spun. 
+
+Holl. Come, come, let's. fall in with them. 
+
+
+Drum. Enter Cape, Dick Butcher, SmitH 
+the Weaver, and a Sawyer, with infinite 
+numbers. 
+
+
+Cade. We, John Cade, so termed of our 
+supposed father,— 
+Dick. [Aside] Or rather, of stealing a 
+
+
+cade of herrings. 
+
+
+Cade. For our enemies shall fall before us, 
+
+
+_ inspired with the spirit of putting down kings 
+
+
+and princes,—Command silence. 
+
+Dick. Silence! 40 
+
+Cade. My father was a Mortimer,— 
+
+Dick. [Aside] He was an honest man, and 
+a good bricklayer. 
+
+Cade. My mother a Plantagenet,— 
+
+Dick. [Aside] 1 knew her well; she was 
+a midwife. 
+
+Cade. My wife descended of the Lacies,— 
+
+Dick. [Aside] She was, indeed, a pedler’s 
+daughter, and sold many laces. 49 
+
+Smith. [Aside] But now of late, not able 
+to travel with her furred pack, she washes 
+bucks here at home. 
+
+Cade, Therefore am I of an honourable 
+house. , 
+
+Dick. [Aside] Ay, by my faith, the field 
+is honourable; and there was he born, under 
+a hedge, for his father had never a house but 
+the cage, 
+
+Cade. Valiant I am, 
+
+
+Smith. [Aside] A’ must needs; for beg- 
+gary is valiant. 
+
+Cade. I am able to endure much. 60 
+
+Dick. [Aside] No question of that; for I 
+have seen him whipped three market-days 
+
+
+0 | together. 
+
+
+C-de. I fear neither sword nor fire. 
+
+Smith. [Aside] He need not fear the 
+sword; for his coat is of proof, 
+
+Dick. [Aside] But methinks he should 
+stand in fear of fire, being burnt i’ the hand 
+for stealing of sheep. 
+
+Cade. Be brave, then; for your captain is 
+brave, and vows reformation. There shall be 
+in England seven halfpenny loaves sold for a 
+penny: the three-hooped pot shall have ten 
+hoops; and [| will make it a felony to drink 
+small beer: all-the realm shall be in common; 
+and in Cheapside shall my palfry go to grass: 
+and when I am king, as king I will be,— 
+
+All. God save your majesty! 
+
+Cade. I thank you, good people: there 
+shall be no money; all shall eat and drink on 
+my score; and I will apparel them all in one 
+livery, that they may agree like brothers and 
+worship me their lord. 
+
+Dick. ‘The first thing we do, let’s kill all 
+the lawyers. 
+
+Cade. Nay, that I mean to do. Is not thi« 
+a lamentable thing, that of the skin of an 
+innocent lamb should be made parchment? 
+that parchment, being scribbled o’er, should 
+undo a man? Some say the bee stings: but 
+I say, ‘tis the bee’s wax; for I did but seal 
+once toa thing, and I was never mine own 
+man since. . How now! who's there? 91 
+
+
+Enter some, bringing forward the Clerk of 
+Chatham. 
+
+
+Smith. The clerk of Chatham: he can 
+write and read and cast accompt. 
+
+Cade. O monstrous! 
+
+Smith. We took him setting of boys’ 
+copies. 
+
+Cade. Here's a villain! 
+
+Smith, Has a book in his pocket with red 
+letters in’t. 
+
+Cade. Nay, then, he is a conjarer. 
+
+Dick. Nay, he can make obligations, and 
+write court-hand. 101 
+
+Cade. I am sorry for’t: the man is a 
+proper man, of mine honour; unless I find him 
+guilty, he shall not die. Come hither, sirrah, 
+I must examine thee: what is thy name? 
+
+Clerk. Emmanuel. 
+
+Dick. They use to write it on the top of 
+letters: “twill go hard with you. 
+
+Cade. Let me alone. Dost thou use to 
+
+
+638 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. I] 
+
+
+write thy name? or hast thou a mark to thy- 
+self, like an honest plain-dealing man? 1/1 
+Clerk. Sir, I thank God, I have been so 
+well brought up that I can write my name. 
+All. He hath confessed: away with him! 
+he’s a villain and a traitor. 
+Cade. Away with him, I say! hang him 
+with his pen and ink-horn about his neck. 
+
+
+[Exit one with the Clerk. 
+Enter MicHaet. 
+
+
+Mich. Where's our general? 
+
+Cade, Here I am, thou particular fellow. 
+
+Mich. Fly, fly, fly! Sir Humphrey Staf- 
+ford and his brother are hard by, with the 
+king's forces. 
+
+Cade. Stand, villain, stand, or I'll fell thee 
+down. He shall be encountered with a man 
+as good as himself: he is but a knight, is a’? 
+
+Mich. No. 
+
+Cade. To equal him, I will make myself a 
+knight presently. [Kneels] Rise up Sir John 
+Mortimer. [Rises] Now have at him! 
+
+
+Enter Sin Humpurey Starrorp and his 
+Brother, with drum and soldiers. 
+
+
+Staf. Rebellious hinds, the filth and scum 
+of Kent, 130 
+Mark’d for the gallows, lay your weapons 
+down; 
+Home to your cottages, forsake this groom: 
+The king is merciful, if you revolt. 
+Bro. But angry, wrathful, and inclined to 
+blood, 
+If you go forward; therefore yield, or die. 
+Cade. As for these silken-coated slaves, | 
+pass not: 
+It is to you, good people, that I speak, 
+Over whom, in time to come, I hope to reign; 
+For I am rightful heir unto the crown. 139 
+Staf. Villain, thy father was a plasterer; 
+And thou thyself a shearman, art thou not? 
+Cade. And Adam was a gardener. 
+Bro. And what of that? 
+Cade. Marry, this: Edmund Mortimer, 
+Earl of March, 
+Married the Duke of Clarence’s daughter, did 
+he not? 
+Staf. Ay, sir. 
+Cade. By her he had two children at one 
+birth. 
+Bro. That's false. 
+Cade. Ay, there's the question; but I say, 
+‘tis true: 
+The elder of them, being put to nurse, 150 
+Was by a beggar-woman stolen away; 
+And, ignorant of h's birth and parentage, 
+Became a bricklayer when he came to age: 
+His son am I; deny it, if you can. 
+
+
+Dick. Nay, ‘tis too true; therefore he shall 
+
+be king. 
+
+Smith. Sir, he made a chimney in my 
+father’s house, and the bricks are alive at this 
+day to testify it; therefore deny it not. 
+
+Staf. And will you credit this base 
+
+drudge’s words, 
+That speaks he knows not what? 160 
+
+All. Ay, marry, will we; therefore get ye 
+
+gone. 
+
+Bro. Jack Cade, the Duke of York hath 
+
+taught you this, 
+
+Cade. [Aside] He lies, for I invented it 
+
+myself. 
+Go to, sirrah, tell the king from me, that, for 
+his father’s sake, Henry the Fifth, in whose 
+
+
+time boys went to span-counter for French . 
+
+
+crowns, I am content he shall reign; but I ‘Il 
+be protector over him. 
+Dick. And furthermore, we ‘Il have the Lord 
+Say’s head for selling the dukedom of Maine. 
+Cade. And good reason; for thereby is 
+England mained, and fain to go with a staff, 
+but that my puissance holds it up. Fellow 
+kings, I tell you that that Lord Say hath 
+gelded the commonwealth, and made it an 
+eunuch: and more than that, he can speak 
+French; and therefore he is a traitor. 
+Staf. O gross and miserable ignorance! 
+Cade. Nay, answer, if you can: the 
+Frenchmen are our enemies; go to, then, I ask 
+but this: can he that speaks with the tongue 
+of an enemy be a good counsellor, or no? 
+All. No, no; and therefore we ‘ll have his 
+head. - 
+Bro. Well, seeing gentle words will not 
+prevail, 
+Assail them with the army of the king. 
+Staf. Herald, away; and throughout every 
+town : 
+Proclaim them traitors that are up with Cade; 
+That those which fly before the battle ends 
+May, even in their wives’ and children’s sight, 
+Be hang’d up for example at their doors: 190 
+And you that be the king's friends, follow me. 
+[Exeunt the two Staffords, and soldiers. 
+Cade. And you that love the commons, 
+follow me. 
+Now show yourselves men; ‘tis for liberty. 
+We will not leave one lord, one gentleman: 
+Spare none but such as go in clouted shoon; 
+For they are thrifty honest men and such 
+As would, but that they dare not, take our 
+parts. 
+Dick. They are all in order and march 
+toward us. 
+Cade. But then are we in order when we 
+are most out of order. Come, march forward. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+sy 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+| 
+
+
+Acv IV, Sc. II] 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY V1 
+
+
+639 
+
+
+“Scene III. Another part of Blackheath. 
+
+
+Alarums to the fight, wherein both the Star- 
+torps are slain. - Enter Cape and the rest. 
+
+
+Cade. Where's Dick, the butcher of Ash- 
+ford? 
+
+Dick. Here, sir. 
+
+Cade, They fell before thee like sheep and 
+oxen, and thou behavest thyself as if thou 
+hadst been in thine own slaughter-house: 
+therefore thus will I reward thee, the Lent 
+shall be as long again as it is; and thou shalt 
+have a license to kill for a hundred lacking 
+one. 
+
+Dick. 1 desire no more. 
+
+Cade. And, to speak truth, thou deservest 
+no less. This monument of the victory will 
+1 bear [putting on Sir Humphrey's brigan- 
+dine]; and the bodies shall be dragged at my 
+horse heels till I do come to London, where we 
+will have the mayor’s sword borne before us. 
+
+ick. If we mean to thrive and do good, 
+break open the gaols and let out the prisoners. 
+
+
+Cade, Fear not that, 1 warrant thee. Come, 
+let's march towards London. [Exeunt. 20 
+Scene IV. London. The palace. 
+
+
+Enter the Kine with a supplication, and the 
+QUEEN with Suffolk’s head, the DUKE OF 
+BucKINGHAM and the Lorp Say. 
+Queen. Oft have I heard that grief softens 
+
+the mind 
+
+And makes it fearful and degenerate; 
+
+Think therefore on revenge and cease to weep. 
+
+But who can cease to weep and look on this? 
+
+Here may his head lie on my throbbing breast: 
+
+But where ’s the body that I should embrace ? 
+Buck. What answer makes your grace to 
+
+the rebels’ supplication ? 
+
+King. I'll send some holy bishop to en- 
+treat; 
+
+For God forbid so many simple souls 10 
+
+Should perish by the sword! And I myself, 
+
+Rather than a bloody war shall cut them short, 
+
+Will parley with Jack Cade their general: 
+
+But stay, I'll read it over once agan, 
+Queen. Ah, barbarous villains! hath this 
+
+lovely face 
+
+Ruled, like a wandering planet, over me, 
+
+And could it not enforce them to relent, 
+
+" That were unworthy to behold the same? 
+King. Lord Say, Jack Cade hath sworn to 
+have thy head. 
+Say. Ay, but I hope your highness shall 
+’ have his. 20 
+King. How now, madam! 
+
+Still lamenting and mourning for Suffolk’s 
+
+death ? 
+
+{ fear me, love, if that I had been dead, 
+
+
+Thou wouldst not have mourn’d so much 
+for me. 
+Queen. No, my love, I should not mourn, 
+but die-for thee. 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+King. How now! what news? why comest 
+thou in such haste? 
+Mess. The rebels are in Southwark; fly, 
+my lord! 
+Jack Cade proclaims himself Lord Mortimer, 
+Descended from the Duke of Clarence’ house, 
+And calls your grace usurper openly 30 
+And vows to crown himself in Westminster. 
+His army is a ragged multitude 
+Of hinds and peasants, rude and merciless: 
+Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother’s death 
+Hath given them heart and courage to pro- 
+ceed: 
+All scholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen, 
+They call false caterpillars and intend their 
+death. ; 
+King.. O graceless men! they know not 
+what they do. 
+Buck. My gracious lord, retire to Killing- 
+worth, 
+Until a power be raised to put them down. 40 
+2 Queene Ah, were the Duke of Suffolk now 
+alive, 
+These Kentish rebels would be soon appeased! 
+King. Lord Say, the traitors hate thee; 
+Therefore away with us to Killingworth. 
+Say. So might your grace’s person be in 
+danger. 
+The sight of me is odious in their eyes; 
+And therefore in this city will I stay 
+And live alone as secret as | may. 
+
+
+Enter another Messenger. 
+
+
+Mess. Jack Cade hath "gotten London 
+bridge: 
+The citizens fly and forsake their houses: 5¢ 
+The rascal people, thirsting after prey, 
+Join with the traitor, and they jointly swear 
+To spoil the city and your royal court. 
+uck. Then linger not, my lord; away, 
+take horse. 
+King. Come, Margaret; God, our hope, 
+will succour us. 
+Queen. My hope is gone, now Suffolk is 
+deceased. 
+King. Farewell, my lord: trust not the 
+Kentish rebels. 
+Buck. Trust nobody, for rear you be be- 
+tray'd. 
+Say. The trust I have is in mine innocence, 
+And therefore am I bold and resolute. 
+[Exeunt. 60 
+
+
+640 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+| 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. vn 
+
+
+ScENE V. London. The tower. 
+
+
+Enter Lorp Scaes upon the Tower, walking. 
+
+
+Then enter two or three Citizens below. 
+
+
+Scales. How now! is Jack Cade slain? 
+
+
+First Cit. No, my lord, nor likely to be 
+
+
+slain; for they have won the bridge, killing all 
+
+
+those that withheld them: 
+
+
+defend the city from the rebels, 
+
+Scales. Such aid as I can spare you shall 
+
+command; 
+
+But I am troubled here with them myself; 
+The rebels have assay’d to win the Tower. 
+But get you to Smithfield and gather head, 10 
+And thither I will send you Matthew Goffe; 
+Fight for your king, your country and your 
+
+
+lives; 7 
+And so, farewell, for I must hence aga‘n. 
+[Exeunt. 
+Scene VI. London. Cannon Sireet. 
+
+
+Enter Jack Cape and the rest, and strikes 
+his staff on London-stone. 
+
+
+Cade. Now is Mortimer lord of this city. 
+
+
+And here, sitting upon London-stone, | charge 
+and command that, of the city’s cost, the 
+
+
+pissing-conduit run ‘nothing but claret wine 
+this first year of our reign. And now hence 
+forward it shall be treason for any that calls 
+me other than Lord Mortimer. 
+
+
+Enter a Soldier, running. 
+
+
+Sold. Jack Cade! Jack Cade! 
+
+Cade. Knock him down there. 
+
+[They hill him. 
+
+Smith. If this fellow be wise, he'll never 
+call ye Jack Cade more: I think he hath a 
+very fair warning, 
+
+Dick. My lord, there’s an army gathered 
+together in Smithfield. 
+
+Cade. Come, then, let's go fight w'th them: 
+but first, go and set London bridge on fire; 
+and, if you can, burn down the Tower too. 
+Come, let’s away. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene VII. London. Smithfield. 
+
+
+Alarums. MattruHew Gorre is slain, and all 
+the rest. Then enter Jack Cape, with his 
+company. 
+
+Cade. So, sirs: now go some and pull 
+down the Savoy; others to the inns of court; 
+down with them all. 
+
+Dick. 1 have a suit unto your lordship. 
+
+Cade. Be it a lordship, thou shalt have it 
+for that word. 
+
+Dicie.. Only that the laws of England may 
+come out of your mouth. 
+
+
+Holl.. [Aside] Mass, ‘twill be sore law, 
+
+
+the lord mayor 
+craves aid of your honour from the Tower to 
+
+
+then; for he was thrust in the mouth with a 
+spear, and ‘tis not whole yet. 1] 
+
+Smith. [Aside] Nay, John, it will be 
+stinking law; for his breath stinks with eating 
+toasted cheese. 
+
+Cade. I have thought upon it, it shall be so. 
+Away, burn all the records of the realm: my 
+mouth shall be the parliament of England. 
+
+Holl. [Aside] Then we are like to have 
+biting statutes, unless his teeth be pulled out. 
+
+Cade. And henceforward all things shall 
+
+21 
+
+
+be in common. 
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+Mess. My lord, a prize, a prize! here's 
+the Lord Say, which sold the towns in F rance; 
+he that made us pay one and twenty fifteens, 
+and one shilling to the pound, the last subsidy, 
+
+
+Enter Grorce Bevis, with the Lorp Say. 
+Cade. Well, he shall be beheaded for it ten 
+
+
+times. Ah, thou say, thou serge, nay, thou 
+buckram lord! now art thou within point-blank 
+of our jurisdiction regal. What canst thou 
+answer to my majesty for giving up of Nor- 
+mandy unto Mounsieur Basimecu, the dauphin 
+of France? Be it known unto thee by_ these 
+presence, even the presence of Lord Mortimer, 
+that I am the besom that must sweep the court 
+clean of such filth as thou art. Thou hast 
+most traitorously corrupted the youth of the 
+
+
+realm in erecting a grammar school: and 
+
+
+whereas, »<fore, our forefathers had no other 
+books but the score and the tally, thou hast 
+caused printing to be used, and, contrary to 
+the king, his crown and dignity, thou hast 
+built a paper-mill. It will be proved to thy 
+face that thou hast men about thee that usually 
+talk of a noun and a verb, and such abominable 
+words as no Christian ear can endure to hear, 
+Thou hast appointed justices of peace, to call 
+poor men before them about matters they were 
+not able to answer. Moreover, thou hast put 
+them in prison; and because they could not 
+read, thou hast hanged them; when, indeed, 
+
+
+only for that cause they have been most 
+
+
+worthy to live. Thou dost ride in a foot- 
+cloth, dost thou not? 
+
+Say. What of that? 
+
+Cade. Marry, thou oughtest not to let thy 
+horse wear a cloak, when honester men than 
+thou go in their hose and doublets. 
+
+Dick. And work in their shirt too; as my- 
+self. for example, that am a butcher. 
+
+Say. You men of Kent— 
+
+Dick. What say you of Kent? 60 
+
+Say. Nothing but this; ’ts ‘bona terra, 
+
+mala gens.” 
+
+Cade. Away with him, away with him: he 
+speaks Latin, : 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+Say. Hear me but speak, and bear me 
+_ where you will. 
+Kent, in the Commentaries Cesar writ, 
+Is term’d the civil’st place of all this isle: 
+Sweet is the country, because full of riches; 
+_ The people liberal, valiant, active, wealthy; 
+Which makes me hope you are not void of pity. 
+I sold not Maine, I lost not Normandy, 70 
+Yet, to recover them, would lose my life. 
+Justice with favour have I always done; 
+_ Prayers and tears have moved me, gifts could 
+. never. 
+When have I aught exacted at your hands, 
+But to maintain the king, the realm and you? 
+Large gifts have I bestow'd on learned clerks, 
+Because my book preferr'd me to the king, 
+_ And seeing ignorance is the curse of God, 
+Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to 
+4 heaven, 
+__ Unless you be possess’d with devilish spirits, 
+*- You cannot but forbear to murder me: 
+_ This tongue hath parley’d unto foreign kings 
+For your behoof,— 
+Cade. Tut, when struck’st thou one blow 
+in the field? 
+Say. Great men have reaching hands: oft 
+have I struck 
+_ Those that I never saw and struck them dead. 
+4 Géo. O monstrous coward! what, to come 
+behind folks? 
+Say. These cheeks are pale for watching 
+for your good. 90 
+Cade. Give him a box o’ the ear and that 
+y _. will make “em red aga‘n. 
+____ Say. Long sitting to determine poor men’s 
+“causes 
+Hath made me full of sickness and diseases. 
+i Cade. Ye shall have a hempen caudle then 
+- and the help of hatchet. 
+Dick. Why dost thou quiver, man? 
+, Say. The palsy, and not fear, provokes me. 
+> Cade. Nay, he nods at us, as who should 
+say, I Il be even with you: I'll see if his head 
+_ will stand steadier on a pole, or no. Take 
+him away, and behead him. 
+Say. Tell me wherein have I offended most? 
+Have I affected wealth or honour? speak. 
+_ Are my chests fill’d up with extorted gold? 
+Is my apparel sumptuous to behold? 
+~ Whom have I injured, that ye seek my death? 
+These hands are free from guiltless blood- 
+shedding, 
+This’ breast from harbouring foul deceitful 
+thoughts. 
+O, let me live! 110 
+Cade. [Aside] 1 feel remorse in myself 
+with his words; but I'll bridle it: he shall d'e, 
+an it be but for pleading so well for his life. 
+{ Away with him! he has a familiar under his 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+641 
+
+
+tongue; he speaks not o' God's name. Go, 
+take him away, I say, and strike off his head 
+presently; and then break into his son-in- 
+law's house, Sir James Cromer, and strike off 
+his head, and bring them both upon two poles 
+hither. 
+
+All. It shall be done. 126 
+
+Say. Ah, countrymen! if when you make 
+
+your prayers, 
+
+God should be so obdurate as yourselves, 
+How would it fare with your departed souls? 
+And therefore yet relent, and save my life. 
+
+Cade, Away with him! and do as I com- 
+mand ye. [Exeunt some with Lord Say, 
+The proudest peer in the realm shall not wear 
+a head on his shoulders, unless he pay me 
+tribute; there shall not a maid be married, but 
+she shall pay to me her maidenhead ere they 
+have it: men shall hold of me in capite; and 
+we charge and command that their wives be 
+as free as heart can wish or tongue can tell. 
+
+Dick. My lord, when shall we go to Cheap- 
+side and take up commodities upon our bills? 
+
+Cade. Marry, presently. 
+
+All. O, brave! 
+
+
+Re-enter one with the heads. 
+
+
+Cade. But is not this braver? Let them 
+kiss one another, for they loved well when 
+they were alive. Now part them again, lest 
+they consult about the giving up of some more 
+towns in France. Soldiers, defer the spoil of 
+the city until night: for with these borne 
+before us, instead of maces, will we ride 
+through the streets; and at every. corner have 
+them kiss. Away! [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene VIII. Southwark. 
+
+
+Alarum and retreat. Enter Cape and all 
+his rabblement. 
+
+Cade. Up Fish Street! down Saint Magnus” 
+Corner! kill and knock down! throw them 
+into Thames. [Sound a parley.] What 
+noise is this I hear? Dare any be so bold to 
+ae retreat or parley, when | command them 
+
+‘ll? 
+
+Enter BuckiNcHAM and old CLIFFORD, 
+
+attended. 
+
+Buck. Ay, here they be that dare and will 
+
+disturb thee: 
+at Cade, we come ambassadors from the 
+ing 
+Unto the commons whom thou hast misled; 
+And here pronounce free pardon to them all 
+That will forsake thee and go home in peace. 
+Clif. What say ye, countrymen? will ye 
+relent, 11 
+And yield to mercy whilst ‘tis offer’'d you;. 
+Or let a rebel lead you to your deaths? 
+
+
+642 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+Who loves the king and will embrace his 
+pardon, 
+Fling up his cap, and say ‘God save his maj- 
+esty!" 
+Who hateth him and honours not his father, 
+Henry the Fifth, that made all France to 
+quake, 
+Shake his weapon at us and pass by. 
+All. God save the king! God save the king! 
+Cade. What, Buckingham and Clifford, are 
+ye so brave? And you, base peasants, do ye 
+believe him? will you needs be hanged with 
+your pardons about your recks>? Hath my 
+sword therefore broke through London gates, 
+that you should leave me at the White Hart 
+in Southwark? I thought ye would never have 
+given out these arms ‘till you had recovered 
+your ancient freedom: but you are all recreants 
+and dastards, and delight to live in slavery to 
+the nobility. Let them break your backs with 
+burthens, take your houses over your heads, 
+ravish your wives and daughters before your 
+faces: for me, I will make shift for one; and 
+so, God's curse light upon you all! 
+All, We 'll follow Cade, we ‘ll follow Cade! 
+Clif. Is Cade the son of Henry the Fifth, 
+That thus you do exclaim you 'll go with him? 
+Will he conduct you through the heart of 
+France, 
+And make the meanest of you earls and dukes? 
+Alas, he hath no home, no place to fly to; 40 
+Nor knows he how to live but by the spoil, 
+Unless by robbing of your friends and us. 
+Were 't not a shame, that whilst you live at jar, 
+The fearful French, whom you late vanquished, 
+Should make a start o'er seas and vanqu'sh 
+you? 
+Methinks already in this civil broil 
+I see them lording it in London streets, 
+Crying ‘Villiago!” unto all they meet. 
+Better ten thousand base-born Cades miscarry 
+Than you should stoop unto a Frenchman's 
+
+
+mercy. 50 
+To France, to France, and get what you have 
+lost; 
+
+
+Spare England, for it is your native coast: 
+Henry hath money, you are strong and manly ; 
+God on our side, doubt not of victory. 
+
+All. A Cl fford! a Clifford! we'll follow 
+the king and Clifford. ‘ 
+
+Cade, Was ever feather so lightly blown to 
+and fro as this multitude? The name of 
+Henry the Fifth hales them to an hundred 
+mischiefs and makes them leave me desolate. 
+{ see them lay their heads together to surprise 
+me. My sword make way for me, for here 
+is no staying. 
+hell, have through the very middest of you! 
+and heavens and honour be witness that no 
+
+
+In despite of the devils and | 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. IX 
+
+
+want of resolut’on in me, but only my fol- 
+lowers’ base and ignominious treasons, makes 
+me betake me to my heels. [Exit. 
+Buck. What, is he fled? Go some, and 
+follow him; 
+
+And he that brings his head unto the king 69 
+Shall have a thousand crowns for his reward. 
+[Exeunt some of them. 
+
+Follow me, soldiers: we ll devise a mean 
+To reconcile you all unto the king. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IX. Kenilworth Castle. 
+
+
+Sound trumpets. Enter Kine, QUEEN, and 
+SoMERSET, on the terrace. 
+King. Was ever king that joy’d an earthly 
+throne, 
+
+And could command no more content than I? 
+No sooner was I crept out of my cradle 
+But I was made a king, at nine months old, 
+Was never subject long’d to be a king 
+As I do long and wish to be a subject. 
+
+
+Enter BuckincHam and old CLIFFORD. 
+
+
+Buck. Health and glad tidings to your 
+majesty ! 
+King. Why, Buckingham, is the traitor 
+Cade surprised ? 
+Or is he but retired to make him strong > 
+
+
+Enter, below, multitudes, with halters about 
+their necks. 
+
+
+Clif. He is fled, my lord, and all his pow- 
+ers do yield; 10 
+And humbly thus, with halters on their necks, 
+Expect your highness’ doom, of life or death. 
+King. Then, heaven, set ope thy everlast- 
+ing gates, 
+To entertain my vows of thanks and praise! 
+Soldiers, this day have you redeem’d your lives 
+And show'd how well you love your prince 
+and country: 
+Continue still in this so good a mind, 
+And Henry, though he be infortunate, 
+Assure yourselves, will never be unkind: 
+And so, with thanks and pardon to you all, 
+I do dismiss you to your several countries, 
+
+
+All. God save the king! God save the king! 
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+Mess, Please it your grace to be advertised 
+The Duke of York is newly come from Ireland, 
+And with a puissant and a mighty power 
+Of gallowglasses and stout kerns 
+Is marching hithesward in proud array, 
+And still proclaimeth, as he comes along, 
+
+is arms are only to remove from thee 
+The Duke of Somerset, whom he terms a traitor. 
+
+King. Thus stands my: state, ‘twixt Cade 
+
+and York distress’d; 31 
+Like to a ship that, having “scaped a tempest, 
+
+
+- Act IV, Sc. XJ 
+
+
+s 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+643 
+
+
+Dene ——— Oe ee 
+
+
+Is straightway calm’d and boarded with a 
+pirate: 
+
+
+-But now is Cade driven back, his men dis- 
+
+
+persed; 
+And now is York in arms to second him. 
+I pray thee, Buckingham, go and meet him, 
+And ask him what's the reason of these arms. 
+Tell him I'll send Duke Edmund to the 
+Tower; 
+And, Somerset, we will commit thee thither, 
+
+
+_ Until his army be dismiss'd from him. 40 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+Som. My lord, 
+I'll yield myself to prison w llingly, 
+Or unto death, to do my country good. 
+King. In any case, be not too rough in 
+terms; 
+For he is fierce and cannot brook hard lan- 
+
+
+guage. 
+Buck. 1 will, my lord; and doubt not so 
+to deal 
+As all things shall redound unto your good. 
+King. Come, wife, let's in, and learn to 
+govern better; 
+For yet may England curse my wretched reign. 
+
+
+[Flourish. Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene X. Kent. Iden’s garden. 
+Enter Cave. 
+
+
+Cade. Fie on ambtion! fie on myself, that 
+have a sword, and yet am ready to famish! 
+These five days have I hid me in these woods 
+and durst not peep out, for all the country is 
+laid for me; but now am I: so hungry that if | 
+might have a lease of my life for a thousand 
+years I could stay no longer. Wherefore, on a 
+brick wall have I climbed into this garden, to 
+see if I can eat grass, or pick a sallet another 
+while, which is not amiss to cool a man’s 
+stomach this hot weather. And I think this 
+word ‘sallet’ was born to do me good: for 
+many a time, but for a sallet, my brain-pan 
+had been cleft with a brown bill; and many a 
+time, when I have been dry and _ bravely 
+marching, it hath served me instead of a quart 
+pot to drink in; and now the word ‘sallet’ 
+must serve me to feed on. 
+
+
+Enter IpEN. 
+
+
+Iden. Lord, who would live turmoiled in 
+the court, 
+And may enjoy such quiet walks as these? 
+This smal! inheritance my father left me 20 
+Contenteth me, and worth a monarchy. 
+I seek not to wax great by others’ waning, 
+Or gather wealth, I care not, with what envy: 
+Sufficeth that I have maintains my state 
+And sends the poor well pleased from my gate. 
+Cade. Here's the lord of the sail come to 
+eize me for a stray, for entering his fee- 
+
+
+simple without leave. Ah, villain, thou wilt 
+betray me, and get a thousand crowns of the 
+king by carrying my head to him: but I'll 
+make thee eat iron like an ostrich, and swal- 
+low my sword like a great pin, ere thou and 
+I part. 
+Iden. Why, rude companion, whatsoe’er 
+thou be, 
+I know thee not; why, then, should I betray 
+thee > 
+Ist not enough to break into my garden, 
+And, like a thief, to come to rob my grounds, 
+Climbing my walls in spite of me the owner, 
+But thou wilt brave me with these saucy terms ? 
+Cade. Brave thee! ay, by the best blood 
+that ever was broached, and beard thee too. 
+Look on me well: I have eat no meat these 
+five days; yet, come thou and thy five. men, 
+and if I do not leave you all as dead as a 
+doornail, | pray God I may never eat grass 
+more. 
+Iden. Nay, it shall ne'er be said, while 
+England stands, 
+That Alexander Iden, an esquire of Kent, 
+Took odds to combat a poor famish’d man. 
+Oppose thy steadfast-gazing eyes to mine, 
+See if thou canst outface me with thy looks: 
+Set limb to limb, and thou art far the lesser; 
+Thy hand is but a finger to my fist, 5] 
+Thy leg a stick compared with this truncheon; 
+My foot shall fight with all the strength thou 
+hast; 
+And if mine arm be heaved in the air, 
+Thy grave is digg’d already in the earth. 
+As for words, whose greatness answers words, 
+Let this my sword report what speech forbears. 
+Cade. By my valour, the most complete 
+champion that ever I heard! Steel, if thou 
+turn the edge, or cut not out the burly-boned 
+clown in chines of beef ere thou sleep in thy 
+sheath, I beseech God on my knees thou 
+mayst be turned to hobnails. 
+[Here they fight. Cade falls. 
+O, I am slain! famine and no other hath 
+slain me: let ten thousand devils come against 
+me, and give me but the ten meals | have lost, 
+and l'Id defy them all. Wither, garden; 
+and be henceforth a burying-place to all that 
+ao dwell in this house, because the uncon- 
+quered soul of Cade is fled. 
+Iden. Is’t Cade that I have slain, that 
+monstrous traitor ? 
+Sword, I will hallow thee for this thy deed, 
+And hang thee o’er my tomb when I am dead: 
+Ne’er shall this blood be wiped from thy point; 
+But thou shalt wear it as a herald’s coat, 
+To emblaze the honour that thy master got. 
+Cade. Iden, farewell, and be proud of thy 
+victory. Tell Kent from me, she hath lost her 
+
+
+. 
+
+
+644 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
++ é . SM AE a= 
+
+
+t : DG 
+‘[Acr V, Sc. é 
+
+
+best man, and exhort all the world to be 
+cowards; for I, that never feared any, am 
+vanquished by famine, not by valour. [Dies. 
+Iden. How much thou wrong’st me, heaven 
+be my judge. ; 
+Die, damned wretch, the curse of her that 
+bare thee; 
+And as J thrust thy body in with my sword, 
+So wish I, I might thrust thy soul to hell. 
+Hence will I drag thee headlong by the heels 
+Unto a dunghill which shall be thy grave, 
+And there cut off thy most ungracious head; 
+Which I will bear in triumph to the king, 
+Leaving thy trunk for crows to feed upon. 90 
+
+
+(Exit. 
+ACT V. 
+
+Scene I. Fields between Dartford and 
+Blackheath. 
+
+
+Enter York, and his army of Irish, with 
+drum and colours. 
+York. From Ireland thus comes York to 
+
+claim his right, 
+
+And pluck the crown from feeble Henry’s 
+head: 
+
+Ring, bells, aloud; burn, bonfires, clear and 
+bright, 
+
+To entertain great England’s lawful king. 
+
+Ah! sancta majestas, who would not buy thee 
+dear? 
+
+Let them obey that know not how to rule; 
+
+This hand was made to handle nought but 
+
+
+gold. 
+I cannot give due action to my words, 
+Except a sword or sceptre balance it: 
+A sceptre shall it have, have I a soul, 10 
+On which I'll toss the flower-de-luce of 
+France, _ 
+Enter BuckincHaM. 
+
+
+Whom have we here? Buckingham, to dis- 
+
+
+turb me? 
+The king hath sent him, sure: I must dis- 
+semble. f 
+Buck. York, if thou meanest well, I greet 
+thee well. 
+
+
+York. Humphrey of Buckingham, I accept 
+thy greeting. 
+Art thou a messenger, or come of pleasure ? 
+Buck. A messenger from Henry, our dread 
+liege, 
+To know the reason of these arms in peace; 
+Or why thou, being a subject as I am, 
+Against thy oath and true allegiance sworn, 20 
+Should ra‘se so great a power without his leave, 
+Or dare to bring thy force so near the court. 
+York. [Aside] Scarce can I speak, my 
+choler is so. great: 
+
+
+O. 1 could hew up rocks and fight with flint 
+
+
+Vag 
+
+
+Se 
+
+
+I am so angry at these abject terms; 
+And now, like Ajax Telamonius, — 
+On sheep or oxen could J spend my fury, 
+I am far better born than is the king, 
+More like a king, more kingly in my thoughts: 
+But I must make fair weather yet a wh le, 3€ 
+Till Henry be more weak and I more strong,— 
+Buckingham, | prithee, pardon me, 
+That I have given no answer all this while; 
+My mind was troubled with deep mélancholy. 
+The cause why IJ have brought this army hither 
+Is io remove proud Somerset from the king, 
+Seditious to his grace and to the state. 
+Buck. That is too much presumption on 
+thy part: [ 
+But if thy arms be to no other end, 
+The king hath yielded unto thy demand: 4( 
+The Duke of Somerset is in the Tower. 
+York. Upon thine honour, is he prisoner ? 
+Buck. Upon mine honour, he is prisoner. 
+York. Then, Buckingham, I do dismiss my 
+powers. 
+Scldiers, I thank you all; disperse yourselves; 
+Meet me to-morrow in Sant George's field, 
+You shall have pay and every thing you wish. 
+And let my sovereign, virtuous Henry, 
+Command my eldest son, nay, all my sons, 
+As pledges of my fealty and love; 50 
+I'll send them all as willing as I live: 
+Lands, goods, horse, armour, any thing I have, 
+Is his to use, so Somerset may die. 
+Buck. York, I commend this kind sub- 
+mission: 
+We twain will go into his highness’ tent. 
+Enter Kine and Attendants, 
+King. Buckingham, doth York intend na 
+harm to us, 
+That thus he marcheth with thee arm in arm? 
+York. In all submission and humility 
+York doth present himself unto your highness, 
+King. Then what intends these forces thou 
+dost bring? 
+York. To heave the traitor Somerset from 
+hence, 
+And fight against that monstrous rebel Cade, 
+Who since I heard to be discomfited. 
+Enter IpEN, with Cape’s head. 
+Iden. If one so rude and of so mean con- 
+dition 
+May pass into the presence of a king, 
+Lo, I present your grace a traitor’s head, 
+The head of Cade, whom I in combat slew. 
+King. The head of Cade! Great God, 
+how just art Thou! 
+O, let me view his visage, being dead, 
+That living wrought me such exceeding trouble, 
+Tell me, my friend, art thou the man that 
+slew him? 7h 
+
+
+; 
+nd 
+
+
+EE 
+
+
+AR eel LR RII 
+‘ 
+
+
+eT 'V, Se. FYE 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+645 
+
+
+Iden. 1 was, ant like your majesty. 
+King. How art thou call’d? and what is 
+thy degree? 
+Iden. Alexander Iden, that’s my name; 
+A poor esquire of Kent, that loves his king. 
+Buck. So please it you, my lord, ‘twere 
+not amiss 
+He were created knight for his good service. 
+King. Iden, kneel down. [He kneels.] 
+Rise up a knight. 
+‘We give thee for reward a thousand marks, — 
+And w.ll that thou henceforth attend on us. 80 
+Iden. May Iden live to merit such a bounty, 
+And never live but true unto his liege! [Rises. 
+
+
+Enter QUEEN and SOMERSET. 
+
+
+King. See, Buckingham, Somerset comes 
+with the queen: 
+Go, bid her hide him quickly from the duke. 
+Queen. For thousand Yorks he shall not 
+hide his head, 
+But boldly stand and front him to his face. 
+York. How now! is Somerset at | berty? 
+Then, York, unloose thy long-imprison’d 
+thoughts, 
+And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart. 
+Shall I endure the sight of Somerset? 90 
+False king! why hast thou broken faith with 
+me, 
+Knowing how hardly I can brook abuse? 
+King did I call thee? no, thou art not king, 
+Not fit to govern and rule multitudes, 
+Which darest not, no, nor canst not rule a 
+traitor. 
+Fhat head of th'ne doth not become a crown; 
+Thy hand is made to grasp a palmer’s staff, 
+And not to grace an awful princely sceptre. 
+That gold must round engirt these brows of 
+mine, are 
+Whose smile and frown, like to Achilles’ spear, 
+Is able with the change to kill and cure. 10] 
+Here ‘s a hand to hold a sceptre up 
+And with the same to act controlling laws. 
+Give place: by heaven, thou shalt rule no more 
+O’er him whom heaven created for thy ruler. 
+Som. O monstrous trator! I arrest thee, 
+York, 
+Of capital treason “gainst the king and crown: 
+Dbey, audacious traitor; kneel for grace. 
+York. Wouldst have me kneel? first let me 
+ask of these, 
+If they can brook I bow a knee to man. 110 
+Sirrah, call in my sons to be my bail: 
+[Exit Allendant. 
+I know, ere they will have me go to ward, 
+They ‘Il pawn their swords for my enfran- 
+chisement. 
+Queen. Call hither Clifford; bid him come 
+
+
+amain, 
+
+
+To say if that the bastard boys of York 
+Shall be the surety for ther traitor father. 
+[Exit Buckingham. 
+York. O blood-bespotted Neapolitan, 
+Ouicast of Naples, England's bloody scourge! 
+The sons of York, thy betters in their birth, 
+Shall be their father’s bail; and bane to those 
+That for my surety will refuse the boys! 121 
+
+
+: 
+Enter Epwarp and RICHARD. 
+
+
+See where they come: I'll warrant they ‘Il 
+make it good. 
+
+
+Enter old Cuirrorp and his Son. 
+
+
+Queen. And here comes Clifford to deny 
+their bail. 
+Clif. Health and all happiness to my lord 
+the king! [Kneels. 
+York. I thank thee, Clifford: say, what 
+news w th thee? 
+Nay, do not fright us with an angry look: 
+We are thy sovereign, Clifford, kneel again; 
+For thy mistaking so, we pardon thee. 
+Clif. This is my king, York, I do not 
+mistake ; 
+But thou mistakest me much to think I do: 
+To Bedlam with him! is the man grown mad? 
+King. Ay, Cl fford; a bedlam and ambi- 
+tious humour 
+Makes him oppose himself against his king. 
+Clif. He is a traitor; let him to the Tower, 
+And chop’ away that factious pate of his. 
+Queen. He is arrested, but will not obey; 
+His sons, he says, shall give their words for 
+hm. 
+York. Will you not, sons? 
+Edw. Ay, noble father, if our words will 
+serve. 
+Rich. And if words will not, then our 
+weapons shall. 140 
+Clif. Why, what a brood of traitors have 
+we here! 
+York. Look in a glass, and call thy image 
+
+
+so: 
+
+I am thy king, and thou a false-heart traitor. 
+Call hither to the stake my two brave bears, 
+That with the very shaking of their chains 
+They may astonish these fell-lurk ng curs: 
+Bid Salisbury and Warwick come to me. 
+
+
+Enter the Earts oF WaRWICK and 
+SALISBURY. | 
+
+
+Clif. Are these thy bears? we'll bait thy 
+bears to death. 
+And manacle the bear-ward in their chains, 
+If thou darest bring them to the baiting place, 
+Rich. Oft have I seen a hot o’erweening cur 
+Run back and bite, because he was withheld; 
+Who, being suffer'd with the bear’s fell paw, 
+
+
+646 
+
+
+Hath clapp'd his tail between his legs and 
+cried: 
+
+And such a piece of service will you do, 
+you oppose yourselves to match Lord 
+Warwick. 
+
+Clif. Hence, heap of wrath, foul indi- 
+
+gested lump, 
+
+As crooked in thy manners as thy shape! 
+
+York. Nay, we shall heat you thoreughly 
+
+anon. 
+
+Clif. Take heed, lest by your heat you burn 
+
+yourselves, 160 
+King. Why, Warwick, hath thy knee for- 
+got to bow? 
+Old Salisbury, shame to thy silver hair, 
+Thou mad misleader of thy brain-sick son? 
+What, wilt thou on thy death-bed play the 
+ruffian, 
+And seek for sorrow with thy spectacles? 
+O, where is faith? O, where is loyalty ? 
+If it be banish’d from the frosty head, 
+Where shall it find a harbour in the earth? 
+Wilt thou go dig a grave to find our war, 
+And shame th’ne honourable age with blood? 
+Why art thou old, and want'st experience ? 
+Or wherefore dost abuse it, if thou hast it? 
+For shame! in duty bend thy knee to me 
+That bows unto the grave with mickle age. 
+Sal. My lord, I have consider’d with my- 
+self 
+The title of this most renowned duke; 
+And in my conscience do repute his grace 
+The rightful heir to England's royal seat. 
+
+King. Hast thou not sworn allegiance unto 
+
+me? 
+
+Sal. I have. 180 
+
+King. Canst thou dispense with heaven for 
+
+such an oath? 
+
+Sal. It is great sin to swear unto a sin, 
+But greater sin to keep a sinful oath. 
+Who can be bound by any solemn vow 
+To do a murderous deed, to rob a man, 
+
+To force a spotless virgin’s chastity, 
+
+To reave the orphan of his patrimony, 
+
+To wring the widow from her custom’d right, 
+And have no other reason for this wrong 
+But that he was bound by a solemn oath? 190 
+
+Queen. A subtle tra’tor needs no sophister. 
+
+King. Call Buckingham, and bid him arm 
+
+himself, 
+
+York. Call Buckingham, and all the friends 
+
+thou hast, 
+I am resolved for death or dignity. 
+Clif. The first I warrant thee, if - dreams 
+Prove true. 
+War. You were best to go to bed and 
+dream again, 
+To keep thee from the tempest of the field. 
+Clif. I am resolved to bear a greater storm 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. II 
+
+
+Than any thou canst conjure up to-day; 
+And that I'll write upon thy burgonet, 200 
+M ght I but know thee by thy household badge. 
+War. Now, by my father’s badge, old 
+Nevil’s crest, 
+The rampant bear chain’d to the ragged staff, 
+This day I'll wear aloft my burgonet, 
+S on a mountain top the cedar shows 
+That keeps his leaves in spite of any storm, 
+Even to affright thee with the view thereof. 
+On. And from thy burgonet I'll rend thy 
+ear 
+And tread it under foot with all contempt, 
+Despite the bear-ward that protects the bear, 
+Y. Clif. And so to arms, victorious father, 
+To quell the rebels and their complices. 
+Rich. Fie! charity, 
+in spite, 
+For you shall sup with Jesu Christ to-night. 
+Y. Clif. Foul stigmatic, that’s more than 
+thou canst tell, 
+Rich, If not in heaven, 
+in hell. [Exeunt severally, 
+
+
+Scene II. Saint Alban’s. 
+Alarums to the battle. Enter Warwick. 
+War. Clifford of Cumberland, ‘tis War- 
+
+wick calls: 
+
+And if thou dost not hide thee from the bear, 
+Now, when the angry trumpet sounds alaruy 
+And dead men’s cries do fill the empty air, 
+Clifford, I say, come forth and fight with me: 
+Proud northern lord, Clifford of Cumberland, 
+
+arwick is hoarse with calling thee to arms. 
+
+Enter York. 
+
+How now, my noble lord! what, all afoot? 
+
+
+York. The deadly-handed Clifford slew 
+
+
+you 'll surely sup 
+
+
+my steed, 
+But match to match I have encounter’'d him 
+And made a prey for carrion kites and crows 
+
+
+Even of the bonny beast he loved so well. 
+
+
+Enter old Cuirrorp. 
+War. Of one or both of us the time is come. 
+
+
+York. Hold, Warwick, seek thee out some 
+other chase, 
+For I myself must hunt th’s deer to death. 
+War. Then, nobly, York: ‘tis for a crown 
+thou fight’st. 
+As I intend, Clifford, to thrive to-day, 
+It grieves my soul to leave thee unassail'd. 
+[Exit 
+Clif. What seest thou in me, York? why 
+dost thou pause? 
+York. With thy brave bearing should | 
+be in love, 20 
+But that thou art so fast mine enemy. 
+Clif. Nor should thy prowess want praise 
+and esteem, 
+
+
+for shame! speak not: 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. Ul] 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+647 
+
+
+\ But that ‘tis shown ignobly and in treason. 
+; York. So let it help me now against thy 
+sword 
+As I in justice and true right express it. 
+Clif. My soul and body on the action both! 
+York. A dreadful lay! Address thee in- 
+stantly. [They fight and Clifford falls. 
+‘ Clif. La fin couronne les ceuvres. | Dies. 
+t York. Thus war hath given thee peace, 
+} for thou art still. 
+Peace with his soul, heaven, if it be thy w'll! 
+[Exit. 
+Enter young CirForp. 
+
+
+Y. Clif. Shame and confusion! all is on 
+the rout; 
+Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds 
+Where it should guard. O war, thou son of 
+hell, 
+Whom angry heavens do make their minister, 
+.. Throw in the frozen bosoms of our part 
+_ Hot coals of vengeance! Jet no soldier fly. 
+He that is truly dedicate to war 
+_ Hath no self-love, nor he that loves himself 
+Hath not essentially but by circumstance 
+The name of valour. [Seeing his dead father] 
+O, let the vile world end, 40 
+And the premised flames of the last day 
+Knit earth and heaven together! 
+Now let the general trumpet blow his blast, 
+Particularities and petty sounds 
+To cease! Wast thou ordain'd, dear father, 
+To lose thy youth in peace, and to achieve 
+The silver livery of adv sed age, 
+And, in thy reverence and thy chair-days, thus 
+To die in ruffian battle? Even at this sight 
+My heart is turn’d to stone: and while ‘tis 
+
+
+mine, 50 
+It shall be stony. York not our old men 
+spares; 
+
+
+No more will I their babes: tears virginal 
+Shall be to me even as the dew to fire, 
+And beauty that the tyrant oft reclaims 
+Shall to my flaming wrath be ol and flax. 
+Henceforth I will not have to do with pity: 
+Meet I an infant of the house of York, 
+_ Into as many gobbets will I cut it 
+As wild Medea young Absyrtus did: 
+In cruelty will I seek out my fame. 60 
+Come, thou new ruin of old Clifford’s house: 
+As did AEneas old Anchises bear, 
+So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders; 
+- But then AEneas bare a living load, 
+Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine. 
+[Exit, bearing off his father. 
+Enter RicHarp and SomersET to fight. 
+SomerseT is killed. 
+
+
+Rich. So, lie thou there; 
+
+
+For underneath an alehouse’ paltry sign, 
+
+
+= 
+
+
+The Castle in Saint Alban’s, Somerset 
+
+Hath made the wizard famous in his death. 
+
+Sword, hold thy temper; heart, be wrathful 
+still: 70 
+
+Priests pray for enemies, but princes kill. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+
+
+Fight: excursions. Enter Kinc, QuEEN, 
+and others. 
+
+
+Queen. Away, my lord! you are slow; for 
+shame, away! 
+King. Can we outrun the heavens? good 
+Margaret, stay. 
+Queen. What are you made of? you'll 
+nor fight nor fly: 
+Now is it manhood, wisdom and defence, 
+To give the enemy way, and to secure us 
+By what we can, which can no more but fly. 
+[Alarum afar off. 
+If you be ta’en, we then should see the bottom 
+Of all our fortunes: but if we haply "scape, 
+As well we may, if not through your neglect, 
+We shall to London get, where you are loved 
+And where this breach now in our fortunes 
+made 
+May readily be stopp’d. 
+
+
+Re-enter young CLIFFORD. 
+
+
+Y.Clif. But that my heart’s on future 
+mischief set, 
+
+I would speak blasphemy ere bid you fly: 
+But fly you must; uncurable discomfit 
+Reigns in the hearts of all our present parts. 
+Away, for your relief! and we will live 
+To see their day and them our fortunes give: 
+Away, my lord, way! [Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene III. Fields near St. Alban’s. 
+
+
+Alarum. Retreat. Enter Yorx, Ricuarop, 
+Warwick, and Soldiers, with drum and 
+colours. 
+
+
+York. Of Salisbury, who can report of him, 
+That winter lion, who in rage forgets 
+Aged contusions and all brush of time, 
+And, Ike a gallant in the brow of youth, 
+Repairs him with occasion? This happy day 
+Is not itself, nor have we won one foot, 
+If Salisbury be lost. 
+
+Rich. My noble father, 
+Three times to-day | holp him to his horse, 
+Three times bestrid him; thrice I led him off, 
+Persuaded him from any further act: 10 
+But still, where danger was, still there I met 
+
+him; 
+
+And like rich hangings in a homely house, 
+
+
+7 
+
+
+648 
+
+
+SECOND PART OF KING HENRY Vi 
+
+
+ay Pee 
+
+
+So was his will in his old feeble body. 
+But, noble as he is, look where he comes. 
+
+
+Enter Savispury. 
+
+
+Sal. Now, by my sword, well hast thou 
+
+fought to-day; 
+
+By the mass, so did we all. 
+Richard: 
+
+God knows how long it is I have to live; 
+
+And it hath pleased him that three times 
+to-day 
+
+You have defended me from imminent death. 
+
+Well, lords, we: have not got that which we 
+have: 20 
+
+
+"Tis not enough our foes are this time fled, 
+
+
+I thank you, 
+
+
+ee 
+Being opposites of such repairing nature. 
+York. I know our safety is to follow them; 
+For, as I hear, the king is fled to London, 
+To call a present court of parliament. 
+Let us pursue him ere the writs go forth. 
+What says Lord Warwick? shall we after 
+them? 
+War. After them! nay, before them, if we 
+can, 
+Now, by my faith, lords, "twas a glorious day: 
+Saint Alban’s battle won by famous York 30 
+Shall be eternized in all age to come. 
+Sound drums and trumpets, and to London all: 
+And more such days as these to us befall! 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Tie 
+ne, 
+
+
+iit 
+
+
+{Acr Vv, Sohl » 
+
+
+aa 
+
+
+Kinc Henry the Sixth. 
+
+Epwarp, PRINCE oF WALEs, his son. 
+Lewis XJ. Kinc or FRANCE. 
+
+DuKE oF SOMERSET. 
+
+Duke or Exeter. 
+
+Eart oF Oxrorp. 
+
+Eart or NoRTHUMBERLAND. 
+
+h Ear_ oF WESTMORELAND. 
+
+-_. Lorp CuirForp. 
+
+
+_ Epwarp, Earl of March, after- } 
+wards King Edward IV., 
+
+
+Epmunp, Earl of Rutland, his 
+
+
+; GrorcE, afterwards Duke of besa 
+
+ae Clarence, | 2 
+
+; RicHarp, afterwards Duke of 
+Gloucester, J 
+
+
+Duke or NorFoik. 
+Marquess oF MontTaAcue. 
+Ear_ or Warwick. 
+Ear. or PEMBROKE. 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+
+
+_ Alarum. Enter the DUKE oF YorK, Epwarb, 
+_ Ricwarp, Norrotx, Montacue, War- 
+__-wiIcK, and Soldiers. 
+
+
+War. 1 wonder how the king escaped our 
+hands. 
+
+_ York. While we pursued the horsemen of 
+the north, 
+
+He slily stole away and left his men: 
+
+_ Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland, 
+a ose warlike ears could never brook retreat, 
+Cheer’d up the drooping army; and himself, 
+Lord Clifford and Lord Stafford, all abreast, 
+
+_ Charged our main battle’s front, and breaking 
+
+
+Pyy. in 
+_ Were by the swords of common soldiers slain. 
+Edm. Lord Stafford’s father, Duke of 
+P Buckingham, 10 
+Is either slain or wounded dangerously; 
+_Icleft his beaver with a downright blow: 
+That this is true, father, behold his blocd. 
+Mont. And, brother, here's the Earl of 
+Wiltshire’s blood, 
+
+
+RicHarp PLANTAGENET, Duke of York. 
+
+
+THE THIRD PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSON/E 
+
+
+Lorp HastTines. 
+Lorp Srarrorp. 
+Sir Joun Mortimer, } uncles to the 
+Sir HucH Mortimer, § Duke of York. 
+Henry, Earl of Richmond, a youth. 
+Lorp Rivers, brother to Lady Grey. 
+Sir Wituiam Stran-ey. 
+Sir Joun Montcomery. 
+Sir JoHN SomMERVILLE. 
+Tutor to Rutland. Mayor of York. 
+Lieutenant of the Tower. A Nobleman. 
+wo Keepers. A Huntsman. 
+A Son that has killed his father. 
+A Father that has killed his son. 
+QUEEN MarcareT. 
+Lapy Grey, afterwards Queen to Ed- 
+ward IV, 
+Bona, sister to the French Queen. 
+Soldiers, Attendants, Messengers, 
+atchmen, &c. 
+Scene: England and France. 
+
+
+Whom I encounter’d as the battles join’d. 
+Rich. Speak thou for me and tell them 
+what I did, . 
+[Throwing down the Duke of Somerset's head. 
+York. Richard hath best deserved of all my 
+sons. 
+But is your grace dead, my Lord of Somerset? 
+Norf. Such hope have all the line of John 
+of Gaunt! 
+Rich. Thus do I hope to shake King 
+Henry’s head. 20 
+War. And so do I. 
+York, 
+Before I see thee seated in that throne 
+Which now the house of Lancaster usurps, 
+I vow by heaven these eyes shall never close. 
+This is the palace of the fearful king, 
+And this the regal seat: possess it, York: 
+For this is thine and not King Henry’s heirs’. 
+York. Assist me, then, sweet Warwick, and 
+I will; 
+For hither we have broken in by force. 
+
+
+Norf. We'll all assist you; he that aA 
+
+
+Victorious Prince of 
+
+
+shall die. 3 
+York... Thanks, gentle Norfolk: stay by me, 
+
+
+my lords; 
+
+
+649 
+
+
+650 THIRD PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI [Acr I, Sc. I 
+
+
+And, soldiers, stay and lodge by me this night. 
+
+They go up. 
+
+War. And when the king comes, offer him 
+no violence, 
+
+Unless he seek to thrust you out perforce. 
+York. The Queen this day here holds her 
+
+parliament, 
+
+But little thinks we shall be of her council: 
+
+By words or blows here let us win our right. 
+Rich, Arm'd as we are, let's stay within 
+
+this house. 
+War. The bloody parliament shall this be 
+call'd, 
+
+Unless Plantagenet, Duke of Yorke, be king, 40 
+
+And bashful Henry deposed, whose cowardice 
+
+Hath made us by-words to our enemies. 
+York. Then leave me not, my lords; be 
+
+resolute ; 
+
+I mean to take possession of my right. 
+
+War. Neither the king, nor he that loves 
+him best, 
+
+The proudest he that holds up Lancaster, 
+
+Dares stir a wing, if Warwick shake his bells. 
+
+I'll plant Plantagenet, root him up who dares: 
+
+Resolve thee, Richard; claim the English 
+
+crown. 
+
+Flourish. Enter Kinc Henry, CLiFForp, 
+NorRTHUMBERLAND, WESTMORELAND, EXE- 
+TER, and the rest. 
+
+K. Hen. My lords, look where the stur 
+rebel sits, 
+
+Even in the chair of state: belike he means, 
+
+Back'd by the power of Warwick, that false 
+
+peer, 
+
+To aspire unto the crown and reign as king. 
+
+Earl of Northumberland, he slew thy father, 
+
+And thine, Lord Clifford; and you both have 
+
+vow'd revenge 
+On him, his sons, his favourites and his friends. 
+North. If I be not, heavens be revenged 
+on me! 
+
+Clif. The hope thereof makes Clifford 
+mourn in steel. 
+
+West. What, shall we suffer this? let's 
+pluck him down. 
+
+My heart for anger burns; I cannot brook it. 
+K. Hen. Be patient, gentle Earl of West- 
+
+moreland. 61 
+Clif. Patience is for poltroons, such as he: 
+
+He durst not sit there, had your father lived. 
+
+My gracious lord, here in the parliament 
+
+Let us assail the family of York. 
+
+North. Well hast thou spoken, cousin: be 
+
+
+dy 
+50 
+
+
+it so. 
+K. Hen. Ah, know you not the city favours 
+them, 
+And they have troops of soldiers at their beck? 
+Exe. But when the duke is slain, they ‘Il 
+quickly fly. 
+
+
+K. Hen. Far be the thought of this from 
+
+
+Henry’s heart. 70 
+To make a shambles of the parliament-house! 
+Cousin of Exeter, frowns, words and threats 
+Shall be the war that Henry means to use. 
+Thou factious Duke of York, descend my 
+throne, 
+And kneel for grace and mercy at my feet; : 
+I am thy sovereign, 
+Y ork. I am thine. 
+Exe. For shame, come down: he made thee 
+Duke of York. 
+York. “Twas my inheritance, as the earl- 
+dom was. 
+Exe. Thy father was a traitor to the crown. 
+War. Exeter, thou art a traitor to the crown 
+In following this usurping Henry. 8I 
+Clif. Whom should he follow but his 
+natural king? 
+War. True, Clifford; and that’s Richard 
+Duke of York. 
+K. Hen. And shall I stand, and thou sit in 
+my throne? 
+York. It must and shall be so: content 
+thyself. 
+War. Be Duke of Lancaster; let him be 
+
+
+king. 
+West. He is both king and Duke of Lan- 
+caster; 
+And that the Lord of Westmoreland shall 
+
+
+maintain. 
+War. And Warwick shall disprove it. You 
+forget 
+That we are those which chased you from the 
+eld . 90 
+And slew your fathers, and with colours spread 
+March’d through the city to the palace gates. 
+Nerth. Yes, Warwick, I remember it to my 
+
+
+grief ; 
+And, by his soul, thou and thy house shall 
+
+rue it. 
+West. Plantagenet, of thee and these thy 
+
+sons, 
+Thy kinsmen and thy friends, I "ll have more 
+
+
+ives 
+Than drops of blood were in my father’s 
+veins. 
+Clif. Urge it no more; lest that, instead of 
+words, 
+I send thee, Warwick, such a messenger 
+As shall revenge his death before I stir. 
+War. Poor Clifford! how I 
+worthless threats! 
+York. Will you we show our title to the 
+crown ? 
+If not, our swords shall plead it in the field. 
+K. Hen. What title hast thou, traitor, te 
+the crown? 
+
+
+Thy father was. as thou art, Duke of York; 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+scorn his 
+
+
+Act I, Se. 1 
+
+
+THIRD PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI 651 
+
+
+Thy Brandi ather: Roger Mortimer, Earl of 
+March: 
+I am the son of Henry the Fifth, 
+
+
+' Who made the Dauphin and the French to 
+
+
+stoop 
+And seized upon their towns and provinces. 
+War. Talk not of France, sith thou hast 
+lost it all. 110 
+K.Hen. The lord protector lost it, and 
+not I: 
+RG was crown'd | was but nine months 
+old, ‘ 
+Rich. You are old enough now, and yet, 
+methinks, you lose. 
+Father, tear the crown from the usurper’s head. 
+Edw. Sweet father, do so; set it on your 
+head. 
+Mont. Good brother, as thou lovest and 
+honourest arms, 
+Let's fight it out and not stand cavilling thus. 
+Rich. Sound drums and trumpets, and the 
+king will fly. 
+York. Sons, peace! 
+kK. Hen. Peace, thou! and give King Henry 
+leave to speak. 120 
+War. Plantagenet shall speak first: hear 
+him, lords; 
+And be you silent and attentive too, 
+For he that interrupts him shall not live. 
+K. Hen. Think’st thov that I will leave my 
+kingly throne, 
+Wherein my grandsire and my father sat? 
+No: first shall war unpeople this my realm; 
+Ay, and their colours, often borne in France, 
+And now in England to our heart's great 
+sorrow, 
+Shall ‘be-my winding-sheet. Why faint you, 
+lords? : 
+My title ’s good, and better far than his. 130 
+War. Prove it, Henry, and thou shalt be 
+
+
+ing. 
+K. Hen. Henry the Fourth by conquest got 
+the crown. 
+York. "Twas by rebellion against his king. 
+K. Hen. [Aside] 1 know not what to say: 
+my title’s weak.— 
+Tell me, may not a king adopt an heir? 
+York. What then? 
+K.Hen. An if he may, then am I lawful 
+king; 
+For Richard, in the view of many lords, 
+Resign’d the crown to Henry the Fourth, a 
+Whose heir my father was, and I am his. 140 
+York. He rose against him, being his sov- 
+ereign, 
+And made:him to resign his crown perforce. 
+War. ‘Suppose, my ‘lords, he did it uncon- 
+strain’d, 
+Think you ‘twere prejudicial to his crown? 
+
+
+Exe. No; for he could not so resign his 
+
+crown 
+But that the next heir should succeed and 
+
+reign. 
+
+K.Hen. Art thou against us, Duke of 
+Exeter ? 
+
+Exe. His is the right, and therefore pardon 
+me. 
+
+
+York. Why whisper you, my lords, and 
+answer not? 
+
+Exe. My conscience tells me he is lawful 
+king. 150 
+
+K. Hen. [Aside] All will revolt from me, 
+and turn to him. 
+
+North. Plantagenet, for all the claim thou 
+lay’st, 
+
+Think not that Henry shall be so deposed. 
+War: Deposed he shall be, in despite of all. 
+North. Thou art deceived: ‘tis not thy 
+
+southern power, 
+
+Of Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, nor of Kent, 
+
+Which makes thee thus presumptuous and 
+
+proud, 
+
+Can set the duke up in despite of me. 
+
+Clif. King Henry, be thy title right or 
+wrong, 
+
+Lord Clifford vows to fight in thy defence: 160 
+
+May that ground gape and swallow me alive, 
+
+Where I shall kneel to him that slew my 
+
+
+father! 
+
+K.Hen. O Clifford, how thy words revive 
+my heart! 
+
+York. Henry of Lancaster, resign thy 
+crown. 
+
+
+What mutter you, or what conspire you, lords> 
+War. Do right unto this princely Duke of 
+York, 
+Or I will fill the house with armed men, 
+And over the chair of state, where now he sits, 
+Write up his title with usurping blood. 
+[He stamps with his foot, and the Soldiers 
+show themselves. 
+K.Hen. My Lord of Warwick, hear me 
+but one word: 170 
+Let me for this my life-time reign as king. 
+York. Confirm the crown to me and to 
+mine heirs, 
+And thou shalt reign in quiet while thou livest. 
+King. I am content: Richard Plantagenet, 
+Enjoy the kingdom after my decease. 
+Clif. What wrong is this unto the prince 
+your son! 
+War. What good is this to England and 
+himself! 
+West. Base, fearful and despairing Henry! 
+
+
+Clif. How hast thou injured both thyself 
+and us! 
+West. 1 cannot stay to hear these articles. 
+
+
+Nerth. Nor I. 
+
+
+652 
+
+
+THIRD PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI [Acta (Se71 
+
+
+Clif. Come, cousin, let us tell the queen 
+these news. 
+West. Farewell, faint-hearted and degener- 
+ate king, 
+In whose cold blood no spark of honour bides. 
+North. Be thou a prey unto the house of 
+York, 
+And die in bands for this unmanly deed! 
+Clif. In dreadful war mayst thou be over- 
+come, 
+Or live in peace abandon’d and despised! 
+[Exeunt North, Clif., and West. 
+War. Turn this way, Henry, and regard 
+
+
+them not. 
+Exe. They seek revenge and therefore will 
+not yield. 190 
+
+
+K. Hen. Ah, Exeter! 
+
+War. Why should you sigh, my lord? 
+
+K. Hen. Not for myself, Lord Warwick, 
+but my son, 
+Whom I unnaturally shall disinherit. 
+But be it as it may: I here entail 
+The crown to thee and to thine heirs for ever; 
+Conditionally, that here thou take an oath 
+To cease this civil war, and, whilst I live, 
+To honour me as thy king and sovereign, 
+And neither by treason nor hostility 
+To seek to put me down and reign thyself. 200 
+York. This oath I willingly take and will 
+perform. 
+
+War. Long live King Henry! Plantagenet, 
+embrace him. 
+
+K. Hen. And long live thou and these thy 
+forward sons! 
+
+York. Now York and Lancaster are rec- 
+onciled. 
+
+Exe. Accursed be he that seeks to make 
+them foes! 
+
+[Sennet. Here they come down. 
+
+York. Farewell, my gracious lord; I'll to 
+my castle. 
+
+War. And I'll keep London with my 
+soldiers. 
+
+Norf. And I to Norfolk with my followers. 
+
+Mont. And | unto the sea from whence 
+I came. 
+
+[Exeunt York and his Sons, Warwick, Nor- 
+folk, Montague, their Soldiers, and At- 
+tendants. 
+
+K. Hen. And I, with grief and sorrow, to 
+the court. 210 
+
+
+Enter QUEEN Marcaret and the PRINCE oF 
+WALEs. 
+
+
+Exe. Here comes the queen, whose looks 
+bewray her anger: 
+?'ll steal away. 
+K. Hen. Exeter. so wiil I. 
+
+
+Q. Mar. Nay, go not from me; I will 
+follow thee. ’ 
+K. Hen. Be patient, gentle queen, and | 
+will stay. 
+Q.Mar. Who can be patient in such ex- 
+tremes ? 
+Ah, wretched man! would I had died a maid, 
+And never seen thee, never borne thee son, 
+Seeing thou hast proved so unnatural a father! 
+Hath he deserved to lose his birthright thus? 
+Hadst thou but loved him half so well as 175220 
+Or felt that pain which I did fer him once, 
+Or nourish’d him as I did with my blood, 
+Thou wouldst have left thy dearest heart-blood 
+there, 
+Rather than have made that savage duke thine 
+heir 
+And disinherited thine only son. 
+Prince. Father, you cannot disinherit me: 
+If you be king, why should not I succeed? 
+K. Hen. Pardon me, Margaret; pardon 
+me, sweet son: 
+
+
+The Earl of Warwick and the duke enforced 
+
+
+me. 
+Q. Mar. Enforced thee! art thou king, and 
+wilt be forced ? 230 
+I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous 
+wretch! 
+Thou hast undone thyself, thy son and me; 
+And given unto the house of York such head 
+As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance. 
+To entail him and his heirs unto the crown, 
+What is it, but to make thy sepulchre 
+And creep into it far before thy time? 
+Warwick is chancellor and the lord of Calais; 
+Stern Falconbridge commands the narrow seas; 
+The duke is made protector of the realm; 240 
+And yet thou shalt be safe? such safety finds | 
+The trembling lamb environed with wolves. 
+Had I been there, which am a silly woman, 
+The soldiers should have toss'd me on their 
+pikes 
+Before I would have granted to that act. 
+But thou preferr’st thy life before thine hon- 
+our: 
+And seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself 
+Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed, 
+Until that act of parliament be repeal'd 
+Whereby my son is disinherited. 250 
+The northern lords that have forsworn thy 
+colours 
+
+
+Will follow mine, if once they see them 
+
+
+spread; 
+And spread they shall be, to thy foul disgrace 
+And utter ruin of the house of York, 
+Thus do I leave thee, Come, son, let’s away; 
+Our army is ready; come, we'll after them. 
+K. Hen. Stay, gentle Margaret, and hea 
+me speak, 
+
+
+By es 
+
+
+T I, Se. Il] 
+
+
+THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+653 
+
+
+Q. Mar. Thou hast spoke too much already: 
+
+_ get thee gone. 
+
+_ K.Hen. Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay 
+with me> 
+
+Q. Mar. Ay, to be murder'd by his enemies. 
+
+Prince. When I return with victory from 
+
+the field 261 
+
+_ I'll see your grace: till then I ‘Il follow her. 
+_ Q.Mar. Come, son, away; we may not 
+linger thus. ; 
+
+_ fExeunt Queen Margaret and the Prince. 
+
+K.Hen. Poor queen! how love to me and 
+
+| to her son 
+
+g Hath made her break out into terms of rage! 
+
+_ Revenged may she be on that hateful duke, 
+
+“Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire, 
+
+* Will cost my crown, and like an empty eagle 
+
+_ Tire on the flesh of me and of my soni 
+The loss of those three lords torments my 
+
+> heart: 270 
+
+Ill write unto them and entreat them fair. 
+
+_ Come, cousin, you shall be the messenger. 
+
+Exe. And JI, lhope, shall reconcile them all. 
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Sandal Castle. 
+
+
+Enter Ricuarp, Epwarp, and Montacue. 
+Rich. Brother, though I be youngest, give 
+me leave. 
+
+_. Edw. No, I can better play the orator. 
+
+_ Mort. But I have reasons strong and for- 
+
+* © -‘cible. 
+-. Enter the DuKE oF York. 
+York. Why, how now, sons and brother! 
+
+
+at a:strife? 
+
+_ What is your quarrel? how began it first? 
+Edw. No quarrel, but a slight contention, 
+York. About what? 
+
+Rich. About that which concerns your 
+, grace and us; 
+
+The crown of England, father, which is yours. 
+York. Mine, boy? not till King Henry be 
+dead. 10 
+
+_ Rich. Your right depends not on his life or 
+- death. 
+
+Edw. Now you are heir, therefore afay 
+it now: 
+
+Pp, giving the house of Lancaster leave to 
+breathe, 
+
+Tt will outrun you, father, in the end. 
+
+Py York. I took an oath that he should quietly 
+
+
+Scene II. 
+
+
+reign. 
+Edw. But for a kingdom any oath may be 
+
+
+broken: : 
+_ I would break a thousand oaths to reign one 
+year. 
+Rich. No; God forbid your grace should 
+
+
+Retoranadal 
+
+
+York. I shall be, if I claim by open war. 
+Rich, I'll prove the contrary, if you ‘ll hear 
+me speak. 20 
+York. Thou canst not, son; it is impossible. 
+Rich. An oath is of no moment, being not 
+took 
+Before a true and lawful magistrate, 
+That hath authority over him that swears: 
+Henry had none, but did usurp the place; 
+Then, seeing ‘twas he that made you to de- 
+pose, 
+Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous. 
+Therefore, to arms! And, father, do but think 
+How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown; 
+Within whose circuit is Elysium 30 
+And all that poets feign of bliss and joy. 
+Why do we linger thus? I cannot rest 
+Until the white rose that I wear be dyed 
+Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry’s heart. 
+York. Richard, enough; I will be king, or 
+die. 
+Brother, thou shalt to London presently, 
+And whet on Warwick to this enterprise. 
+Thou. Richard, shalt to the Duke of Norfolk, 
+And tell him privily of our intent. 
+You, Edward, shall unto my Lord Cobham, 40 
+Witn whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise: 
+In them I trust; for they are soldiers, 
+Witty, courteous, liberal, full of spirit. 
+While you are thus employ’d. what resteth 
+more, 
+But that I seek occasion how to rise, 
+And yet the king not privy to my drift, 
+Nor any of the house of Lancaster? 
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+But, stay: what news? Why comest thou in 
+such post? 
+Mess, The queen with all the northern earls 
+and lords 
+Intend her to besiege you in your castle: 50 
+She is hard by with twenty thousand men; 
+And therefore fortify your hold. my lord, 
+York. Ay, with my sword. What! think’st 
+thou that we fear them? 
+Fdward and Richard, you shall stay with me; 
+My brother Montague shall post to London: 
+Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest, 
+Whom we have left protectors of the king, 
+With powerful policy strengthen themselves, 
+And trust not simple Henrv nor bis oaths. 
+Mont. Brother, I go; I Il win them, fear it 
+
+
+not; 66 
+And thus most humbly I do take my leave. 
+[Exit. 
+Enter Sir JoHN Mortimer and Sir Hucu 
+Mortimer. 
+York. Sir John and Sir Hugh Mortimer, 
+
+
+mine uncles, 
+
+
+554 
+
+
+You are come to Sandal in a happy hour; 
+‘he army of the queen mean to besiege us, 
+
+
+Sir John. She shall not need; we'll meet 
+
+
+her in the field. 
+York. What, with five thousand men ? 
+Rich. Ay, with five hundred, father, for a 
+need: 
+A woman’s general; what should we fear? 
+[A march afar off. 
+Edw. | hear their drums: let’s set our men 
+‘in order, 
+And issue forth and bid them baitle straight. 
+
+
+York. Five men to twenty! though the odds 
+
+
+be great, 71 
+I doubt not, uncle, of our victory. 
+Many a battle have I won in France, 
+hen as the enemy hath been ten to one: 
+Why should I not now have the like success? 
+[Alarum. Exeuni. 
+
+
+Scene III. Field of battle betwixt Sandal 
+Castile and Wakefield. 
+
+
+Alarums. Enter Rutianp and his Tutor. 
+Rut. Ah, whither shall ] fly to "scape their 
+
+
+hands ? 
+Ah, tutor, look where bloody Clifford comes! 
+Enter Cuirrorp and Soldiers. 
+Clif. Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves 
+thy life. 
+As for the brat of this accursed duke, 
+Whose father slew my father, he shall die. 
+Tut. And I, my lord, will bear him com- 
+
+
+pany. 
+Clif. Soldiers, away with him! 
+Tut. Ah, Clifford, murder not this innocent 
+child, 
+Lest thou be hated both of God and man! 
+[Exit, dragged off by Soldiers. 
+
+
+Clif. How now! is he dead already? or is 
+
+
+it fear 10 
+
+That makes him close his eyes? {Il open 
+them. 
+
+Rut. So looks the pent-up lion o'er the 
+wretch 
+
+
+That trembles under his devouring paws; 
+And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey, 
+And so he comes, to rend his limbs assunder. 
+Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword, 
+And not with such a cruel threatening look. 
+Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die. 
+I am too mean a subject for thy wrath: 
+Be thou revenged on men, and let me live. 20 
+Clif. In vain thou speak’st, poor boy; my 
+father’s blood 
+Hath stopp’d the passage where thy words 
+should enter. 
+Rut. Then let my father’s blood open it 
+again: 
+He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him. 
+
+
+THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+[Act I, Sc. UI 
+
+
+Clif. Had I thy brethren here, their lives 
+and thine 
+
+Were not reverge sufficient for me; 
+
+No, if I digg’d up thy forefathers’ graves 
+
+And hung their rotten coffins up in chains, 
+
+It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart. 
+
+The sight of any of the house of York 30 
+
+Is as a fury to torment my soul; 
+
+And till I root out their accursed line 
+
+And leave not one alive, I live in hell. 
+
+Therefore— [Lifting his hand. 
+Rut. O, let me pray before I take my 
+
+death! 
+
+To thee I pray; sweet Clifford, pity me! 
+Clif. Such pity as my rapier’s point affords. 
+Rut. I never did thee harm: why wilt thou. 
+
+slay me? 
+hath. 
+
+
+Clif. Thy father 
+Rut. But ‘twas ere I was born. 
+Thou hast one son; for his sake pity me, 40 
+Lest in revenge thereof, sith God is just, 
+He be as miserably slain as I, 
+Ah, let me live in prison all my days; 
+And when I give occasion of offence, 
+Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause, 
+Clif. No cause! 
+Thy father slew my father; therefore die. 
+[Stabs him. 
+Rut. Di faciant laudis summa sit ista tua! 
+ies, 
+Clif. Plantagenet! I come, Plantagenet! 
+And this thy son’s blood cleaving to my blade 
+Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood, 51 
+
+
+Congeal’d with this, do make me wipe off both. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+Scene IV. Another part of the field, 
+Alarum. Enter RicHarp, Duke of York. 
+Aes The army of the queen hath got the 
+eld: 
+My uncles both are slain in rescuing me; 
+And all my followers to the eager foe 
+Turn back and fly, like ships before the wind! 
+Or lambs pursued by hunger-starved wolves. 
+
+
+| My sons, God knows what hath bechanced 
+
+
+them: 
+But this I know, they have demean'd them- 
+selves 
+Like men born to renown by life or death. 
+Three times did Richard make a lane to me,. 
+And thrice cried ‘Courage, father! fight it 
+out!’ i 
+And full as oft came Edward to my side, 
+With purple falchion painted to the hilt 
+Tn blood of those that had encounter'd him: 
+And when the hardiest warriors did retire, 
+Richard cried ‘Charge! ‘and give no foot of 
+ground!’ 
+And cried ‘A crown, or else a glorious tomb!’ 
+A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre!’ 
+
+
+e 
+\ 
+
+
+Act I, Se. II] THIRD PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI 655 
+
+
+With this, we chatued again: but, out, alas! 
+We bodged again; as I have seen a swan 
+
+
+With bootless labour swim against the tide 20 
+
+
+And spend her strength with over-matching 
+waves. [A short alarum within. 
+
+Ah, hark! the fatal followers do pursue; 
+
+And | am faint and cannot fly their fury: 
+
+And were I strong, I would not shun their 
+fury: 
+
+The sands are number'd that make up my life; 
+
+Here must I stay, and here my life must end. 
+
+
+Enter QUEEN Marcaret, Ciirrorp, NortH- 
+UMBERLAND, the young Prince, and Soldiers. 
+
+
+Come, bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland, 
+I\dare your quenchless fury to more rage: 
+I am your butt, and I abide your shot. 
+North. Yield to our mercy, proud Plan- 
+tagenet. 30 
+Clif. Ay, to such mercy as this ruthless arm, 
+‘With downright payment, show'’d unto my 
+father. 
+Now Phaéthon hath tumbled from his car, 
+And made an evening at the noontide prick. 
+York. My ashes, as the phoenix, may bring 
+forth 
+A bird that will revenge upon you all: 
+And in that hope I throw mine eyes to heaven, 
+Scorning whate’er you can afflict me with. 
+
+
+Why come you not? what! multitudes, and 
+fear? 
+Clif. So cowards fight when they can fly 
+no further; 
+
+
+So doves do peck the falcon’s piercing talons; 
+
+So-desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives, 
+
+Breathe out invectives ‘gainst the officers. 
+York. O Clifford, but bethink thee once 
+
+again, 
+
+And in thy thought o’er-run my former time; 
+
+And, if thou canst for blushing, view this face, 
+
+And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with 
+
+
+cowardice 
+Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere 
+this! 
+Clif. I will not bandy with thee word for 
+word, 
+But Paekle with thee blows, twice two for one. 
+Q. Mar. Hold, valiant Clifford! for a 
+thousand causes 51 
+
+
+1 would prolong awhile the traitor’s life. 
+
+Wrath makes him deaf: speak thou, Northum- 
+berland. 
+
+North. Hold, Clifford! do not honour him 
+
+so much 
+
+To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart: 
+
+What valour were it, when a cur doth grin, 
+
+For one to thrust his hand between his teeth, 
+
+When he might spurn him with his foot away ? 
+
+[t is war's prize to take all vantages: 
+
+
+And ten to one is no impeach of valour. 60 
+[They lay hands on York, who struggles. 
+Clif. Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with 
+
+
+the gin. 
+
+North. So doth the cony struggle in the 
+net. 
+
+Yorks So triumph thieves upon their con- 
+quer'd booty; 
+
+
+So true men yield, with robbers so o’ermatch’d. 
+North. What would your grace have done 
+unto him now? 
+
+Q.Mar. Brave warriors, Clifford 
+Northumberland, 
+
+Come, make him stand upon this molehiil here, 
+
+That raught at mountains with outstretched 
+
+arms, 
+
+Yet parted but the shadow with his hand. 
+
+What! was it you that would be England's 
+
+king? 70 
+
+Was 't you that revell’d in our parliament, 
+
+And made a preachment of your high descent? 
+
+Where are your mess of sons to back you 
+
+now ? 
+
+The wanton Edward, and the lusty George? 
+
+And where's that valiant crook-back prodigy, 
+
+Dicky your boy, that with his grumbling voice 
+
+Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies? 
+
+Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rut- 
+
+land? 
+
+Look, York: 
+
+blood 
+
+That valiant Clifford, with his rapier’s point, 
+
+
+and 
+
+
+I stain’d this napkin with the 
+
+
+40 | Made issue from the bosom of the boy; 
+
+
+And if thine eyes can water for his death, 
+
+I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal. 
+
+Alas, poor York! but that I hate thee deadly, 
+
+I should lament thy miserable state. 
+
+I prithee, grieve, to make me merry, York. 
+
+What, hath thy fiery heart so parch’d thine 
+entrails 
+
+That not a tear can fall for Rutland’s death? 
+
+Why art thou patient, man? thou shouldst be 
+mad; 
+
+And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus. 
+
+Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and 
+dance. 91 
+
+Thou wouldst be fee’d, I see, to make me 
+sport: 
+
+York cannot speak, unless he wear a crown. 
+
+A crown for York! and, lords, bow low to 
+him: 
+
+Hold you his hands, whilst I do set it on. 
+
+[Putting a paper crown on his head. 
+
+Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king! 
+
+Ay, this is he that took King Henry’s chair, 
+
+And this is he was his adopted heir. 
+
+But how is it that great Plantagenet 
+
+Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath > 
+
+
+As I bethink me, you should not be king 101 
+
+
+656 THIRD PART OF 
+
+
+.e 44 = * 
+> ties 
+ane! v 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI [Act Il, Sc. I 
+
+
+Till our King Henry had shook hands with 
+death, 
+And will you pale your head in Henry’s 
+glory, 
+And rob his temples of the diadem, 
+Now in his life, against your holy oath? 
+O, "tis a fault too too unpardonable! 
+Off with the crown; and, with the crown, his 
+head; 
+And, whilst we breathe, take time to do him 
+dead. 
+Clif. That is my office, for my father’s sake. 
+Q. Mar. Nay, stay; let’s hear the orisons 
+he makes. 110 
+York. She-wolf of France, but worse than 
+wolves of France, ; 
+ose tongue more poisons than the adder’s 
+tooth! 
+How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex 
+To triumph, like an Amazonian trull, 
+Upon their woes whom fortune captivates! 
+But that thy face is, visard-like, unchanging, 
+Made impudent with use of evil deeds, 
+1 would assay, proud queen, to make thee 
+
+
+lush. 
+To tell thee whence thou camest, of whom 
+derived, 
+Were shame enough to shame thee, wert thou 
+not shameless. 120 
+
+
+Thy father bears the type of King of Naples, 
+Of both the Sicils and Jerusalem, 
+Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman. 
+Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult? 
+It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud queen, 
+Unless the adage must be verified, 
+at beggars mounted run their horse to 
+death. 
+"Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud; 
+But, God he knows, thy share thereof is 
+small; 
+"Tis virtue that doth make them most admired; 
+The contrary doth make thee wonder'd at: 13] 
+"Tis government that makes them seem divine; 
+The want thereof makes thee abominable: 
+Thou art as opposite to every good 
+As the Antipodes are unto us, 
+Or as the south to the septentrion, 
+O tiger’s heart wrapt in a woman's hide! 
+How couldst thou drain the life-blood of the 
+child, 
+To bid the father wipe his eyes withal, 
+And yet be seen to bear a woman’s face? 140 
+Women are soft. mild, pitiful and flexible; 
+
+
+Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorse- 
+less. 
+
+Bid’st thow me rage? why, now thou hast thy 
+wish: 
+
+
+Wouldst have me weep? why, now thou hast 
+dy will: 
+
+
+For raging wind blows up incessant showers, 
+And when the rage allays, the rain begins. 
+‘These tears are my sweet Rutland’s obsequies: 
+
+
+And every drop cries vengeance for his death, 
+‘Gainst thee, fell Clifford, and thee, false 
+
+
+Frenchwoman. 
+North. Beshrew me, but his passion moves 
+me so 150 
+
+
+That hardly can I check my eyes from tears. 
+York. That face of his the hungry canni- 
+bals 
+Would not have touch’d, would not have 
+stain’d with blood: 
+But you are more inhuman, more inexorable, 
+Q, ten times more, than tigers of Hyrcania. 
+See, ruthless queen, a hapless father’s tears: 
+This cloth thou dip’dst in blood of my sweet, 
+boy, 
+And I with tears do wash the blood away. 
+Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this: 
+And if thou tell’st the heavy story right, 160 
+Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears; 
+Yea, even my foes will shed fast-falling tears, 
+And say ‘Alas, it was a piteous deed!’ 
+There, take the crown, and, with the crown, 
+my curse; 
+And in thy need such comfort come to thee 
+As now I reap at thy too cruel hand! 
+Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the 
+world: 
+My soul to heaven, my blood upon your heads! 
+North. Had he been slaughter-man to all 
+my kin, 
+I should not for my life but weep with him, 
+To see how tly sorrow gripes his soul. 
+Q.Mar. What, weeping-ripe, my Lord 
+Northumberland ? 
+Think but upon the wrong he did us all, 
+And that will quickly dry thy melting tears. 
+Clif. Here’s for my oath, here's for my 
+father’s death. [Stabbing him. 
+Q. Mar. And here's to right our gentle- 
+hearted king. [Stabbing him. 
+York. Open Thy gate of mercy, gracious 
+God! 
+My soul flies through these wounds to seek 
+
+
+out Thee. (Dies. 
+Q. Mar. Off with his head, and set it on 
+York gates; 
+
+
+So York may overlook the town of York. 180 
+[Flourish. Exeunt, 
+
+
+ACT II. 
+Scene I. A plain near Mortimer’s Cross in 
+Herefordshire. 
+A march, Enter Epwarp, RICHARD, and 
+their power. 
+Edw. 1 wonder how our princely father 
+"scaped, 
+
+
+; 
+
+
+i it 
+
+
+Act Il, Sc. 1] 
+
+
+Or whether he be ‘scaped away or no 
+
+
+From Clifford’s and Northumberland’s pur- 
+
+
+suit: 
+
+
+‘Had he been ta’en, we should have heard the 
+
+
+news; © 
+Had he been slain, we should have heard the 
+
+
+news; 
+
+
+_. Or had he ’scaped, methinks we should have 
+
+
+heard 
+The happy tidings of his good escape. 
+How fares my brother? why is he so sad? 
+Rich, I cannot joy, until I be resolved 
+Where our right valiant father is become. 10 
+I saw him in the batt'e range about; 
+sili him how he singled Clifford 
+orth. 
+Methought he bore him in the thickest troop 
+As doth a lion in a herd of neat; 
+Ox as a bear, encompass’d round with dogs, 
+Who having pinch’d a few and made them 
+
+
+et ery; 
+The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him. 
+So fared our father with his enemies; 
+So fled his enemies my warlike father: 
+Methinks, ‘tis prize enough to be his son. 20 
+See how the morning opes her golden zates, 
+And takes her farewell of the glorious sun! 
+How well remembers it the prime of youth, 
+Trimm’'d like a younker prancing to his love! 
+Edw. Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three 
+suns > 
+_ Rich. Three glorious suns, each one a per- 
+fect sun; 
+Not separated with the racking clouds, 
+But serv'd in a pale clear-shining sky. 
+See, see! they join, embrace, and seem to 
+kiss, 
+As if they vow'd some league inviolable: 30 
+Now are they Lut one lamp, one light, one 
+sun. 
+In this the heaven figures some event. 
+Edw. "Tis wondrous strange, the like yet 
+never heard of. 
+I think it cites us, brother, to the field, 
+That we, the sons of brave Plantagenet, 
+Each one already blazing by our meeds, __ 
+Should not withstanding join our lights  to- 
+gether 
+And over-shine the earth as this the world. 
+Whate’er it bodes, henceforward will I bear 
+Upon my target three fair-shining suns. 40 
+Rich. Nay, bear three daughters: by your 
+leave I speak it, 
+You love the breeder better than the male. 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretell 
+Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue? 
+
+
+THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+657 
+
+
+Mess. Ah, one that was a woful looker-on 
+When as the noble Duke of York was slain, 
+Your princely father and my loving lord! 
+
+Edw. O, speak no more, for I have heard 
+
+too much, 
+
+set Say how he died, for I will hear it 
+
+all. 
+
+Mess. Environed he was with many foes, 50 
+And stood against them, as the hope of Troy 
+Against the Greeks that would have enter’d 
+
+Troy. 
+But Hercules himself must yield to odds; 
+And many strokes, though with a little axe, 
+Hew down and fell the hardest-timber’d oak. 
+By many hands your father was subdued; 
+But only slaughter’d by the ireful arm 
+Of unrelenting Clifford and the queen, 
+Who crown’d the gracious duke in high de- 
+
+
+spite, 
+Laugh’d in his face; and when with grief he 
+wept, 60 
+
+
+The ruthless queen gave him to dry his cheeks 
+
+A napkin steeped in the harmless blood 
+
+Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford 
+slain: 
+
+And after many scorns, many foul xaunts, 
+
+They took his head, and on the gates of York 
+
+They set the same; and there it doth remain, 
+
+The saddest spectacle that e’er I view’d. 
+
+Edw. Sweet Duke of York, our prop to lean 
+
+upon, 
+
+Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay. 
+
+O Cliford, boisterous Clifford! thou hast slain 
+
+The flower of Europe for his chivalry; 71 
+
+And treacherously hast thou vanquish'd him, 
+
+For hand to hand he would have vanquish’d 
+thee. 
+
+Now my soul’s palace is become a prison: 
+
+Ah, would she break from hence, that this my 
+body 
+
+Might in the ground be closed up in rest! 
+
+For never henceforth shall I joy again, 
+
+Never, O never, shall I see more joy! ! 
+
+Rich. I cannot weep; for all my body’s 
+
+
+moisture 
+Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning 
+heart: 80 
+Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great 
+burthen; 
+
+
+For selfsame wind that I should speak withal 
+
+Is kindling coals that fires all my breast, 
+
+And burns me up with flames that tears would 
+quench. 
+
+To weep is to make less the depth of grief: 
+
+Tears then for babes; blows and revenge for 
+me! 
+
+Richard, I bear thy name; I'll venge thy 
+death, 
+
+Or die renowned by attempting it. 
+
+
+658 THIRD PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI [Act II, Sc. I 
+
+
+Edw. His name that valiant duke hath 
+left with thee; 
+His dukedom and his chair with me is left. 90 
+Rich, Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's 
+bird, 
+Show thy descent by gazing ‘gainst the sun: 
+For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom 
+say ; 
+Either that is thine, or else thou wert not his. 
+
+
+March. Enter Warwick, MaRQuEss OF 
+Montacug, and their army. 
+War. How now, fair lords! What fare? 
+what news abroad? 
+Rich. Great Lord of Warwick, if we 
+should recount 
+Uur baleful news, and at each word's deliver- 
+ance 
+Stab poniards in our flesh till all were told, 
+The words would add more anguish than the 
+wounds, 
+O valiant lord, the Duke of York is slain! 
+Edw. O Warwick, Warwick! that Plan- 
+tagenet, 
+Which held thee dearly as his soul's redemp- 
+tion, 
+Is by the stern Lord Clifford done to death. 
+War. Ten days ago I drown'd these news 
+in tears; 
+And now, to add more measure to your woes, 
+I come to tell you things sith then befall'n. 
+After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought, 
+Where your brave father breathed his latest 
+gasp, 
+Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run, 
+Were brought me of your loss and his depart. 
+1, then in London, keeper of the king, 111 
+Muster’d my soldiers, gather’d flocks of 
+friends, 
+And very well appointed, as I thought, 
+March’d toward Saint Alban’s to intercept the 
+queen, 
+Bearing the king in my behalf along; 
+For by my scouts I was advertised 
+That she was coming with a full intent | 
+To dash our late decree in parliament 
+Touching King Henry’s oath and your suc- 
+cession. 
+Short tale to make, we at Saint Alban’s met, 
+Our battles join’d, and both sides fiercely 
+fought: 121 
+But whether "twas the coldness of the king, 
+Who look’'d full gently on his warlike queen, 
+That robbed my soldiers of their heated spleen; 
+Or whether ‘twas report of her success; 
+Or more than common fear of Clifford's 
+rigour, 
+Who thunders to his captives blood and death, 
+
+
+{ cannot iudge: but, to conclude with truth, 
+
+
+Their weapons like to lightning came and 
+went; 
+Our soldiers’, like the night-owl’s lazy flight, 
+Or like an idle thresher with a flail, 13} 
+Fell gently down, as if they struck their 
+friends. 
+I cheer'd them up with justice of our cause, 
+With promise of high pay and great rewards: . 
+But all in vain; they had no heart to fight, 
+And we in them no hope to win the day; 
+So that we fled; the king unto the queen; 
+Lord Goes your brother, Norfolk and my- 
+self, 
+In haste, post-haste, are come to join with you; 
+For in the marches here we heard you were, 
+Making another head to fight again. 141 | 
+Edw. Where is the Duke of Norfolk,. 
+gentle Warwick? 
+And when came George from Burgundy to 
+England? 
+War. Some six miles off the duke is with 
+the soldiers; 
+And for your brother, he was lately sent 
+From your kind aunt, Duchess of Burgundy, 
+With aid of soldiers to this needful war. 
+Rich. "Twas odds, belike, when valiant 
+Warwick fled: 
+Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit, 
+But ne’er till now his scandal of retire. 150 
+War. Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost 
+thou hear; 
+For thou shalt know this strong right hand 
+of mine 
+Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry's 
+head, ~ 
+And wring the awful sceptre from. his fist, 
+Were he as famous and as bold ia war 
+As he is famed for mildness, peace, and 
+prayer. 
+Rich. I know it well, Lord Warwick; 
+blame me not: 
+‘Tis love I bear thy glories makes me speak. 
+But in this troublous time what’s to be done? 
+Shall we go throw away our coats of steel, 160 
+And wrap our bodies in black mourning 
+gowns, 
+Numbering our Ave-Maries with our beads? 
+Or shall we on the helmets of our foes 
+Tell our devotion with revengeful arms? 
+If for the last, say ay, and to it, lords. 
+War. Why, therefore Warwick came to 
+seek you out; 
+And therefore comes my brother Montague. 
+Attend me, lords. The proud insulting queen, 
+With Clifford and the haught Northumber- 
+land, 
+And of their feather many moe proud birds, 
+Have wrought the easy-melting king like wax 
+He swore consent to your succession, 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+Act II, Sc. II] THIRD PART OF 
+
+
+His oath enrolled in the parliament; 
+
+_ And now to London all the crew are gone, 
+To frustrate both his oath and what beside 
+“May make against the house of Lancaster. 
+Their power, I think, is thirty thousand strong: 
+
+ow, if the help of Norfolk and myself, 
+With all the friends that thou, brave Earl of 
+March, 179 
+Amongst the loving Welshmen canst procure, 
+Will but amount to five and twenty thousand, 
+Why, Via! to London will we march amain, 
+And once again bestride our foaming steeds, 
+And once again cry ‘Charge upon our foes!’ 
+But never once again turn back and fly. 
+Rich. Ay, now methinks I hear great War- 
+wick speak: 
+
+
+‘ Ne’er may he live to see a sunshine day, 
+
+
+x 
+
+
+That cries ‘Retire,’ if Warwick bid him stay. 
+Edw. Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will 
+
+
+I lean; 
+And when thou fail’st—as God forbid the 
+hour !— 109 
+Must Edward fall, which peril heaven for- 
+fend! 
+War. No longer Earl of March, but Duke 
+of York: 
+
+
+The next degree is England's royal throne; 
+For King of England shalt thou be proclaim’d 
+In every borough as we pass along; 
+And he that throws not up his cap for joy 
+Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head. 
+King Edward, valiant Richard, Montague, 
+Stay we no longer, dreaming of renown, 
+But sound the trumpets, and about our task. 
+Rich. Then, Clifford, were thy heart as 
+hard as steel, 201 
+As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds, 
+I come to pierce it, or to give thee mine. 
+Edw. Then strike up drums: God and 
+Saint George for us! 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+“War. How now! what news? 
+Mess. The Duke of Norfolk sends you 
+word by me, 
+The queen is coming with a puissant host; 
+And craves your company for speedy counsel. 
+War. Why then it sorts, brave warriors, 
+let’s away. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. Before York. 
+
+
+Flourish. Enter Kinc HENry, QUEEN Mar- 
+GARET, the PRINCE oF WALES, CLIFFORD, 
+and NorTHUMBERLAND, with drum and 
+trumpels. 
+
+
+Q. Mar. Welcome, my lord, to this brave 
+town of York. 
+Yonder ’s the head of that arch-enemy 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI 659 
+
+
+That sought to be encompass’d with your 
+crown: 
+Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord? 
+K. Hen. Ay, as the rocks cheer them that 
+fear their wreck: 
+To see this sight, it irks my very soul. 
+Withhold revenge, dear God! ‘tis not my fault, 
+Nor wittingly have I infringed my vow. 
+Clif. My gracious liege, this too much lenity 
+And harmful pity must be laid aside. 10 
+To whom do lions cast their gentle looks? 
+Not to the beast that would usurp their den, 
+Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick? 
+Not his that spoils her young before her face. 
+Who ’scapes the lurking serpent’s mortal sting ? 
+Not he that sets his foot upon her back. 
+The smallest worm will turn being trodden on, 
+And doves will peck in safeguard of their 
+brood, 
+Ambitious York did level at thy crown, 
+Thou smiling while he knit his angry brows: 
+He, but a duke, would have his son a king, 21 
+And raise his issue, like a loving sire; 
+Thou, being a king, blest with a goodly son, 
+Didst yield consent to disinherit him, 
+Which argued thee a most unloving father. 
+Unreasonable creatures feed their young; 
+And though man’s face be fearful to their eyes, 
+Yet, in protection of their tender ones, 
+Who hath not seen them, even with those wings 
+Which sometime they have used with fearful 
+flight, 30 
+Make war with him that climb’d unto their 
+nest, 
+Offering their own lives in their young’s de- 
+fence? 
+For shame, my liege, make them your prece- 
+dent! 
+Were it not pity that this goodly boy 
+Should lose his birthright by his father’s fault, 
+And long hereafter say unto his child, 
+“What my great-grandfather and grandsire got 
+My careless father fondly gave away"? 
+Ah, wast a shame were this! Look on the 
+oy; 
+And let his manly face, which promiseth 40 
+Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart 
+To hold thine own and leave thine own with 
+him. 
+K. Hen. Full well hath Clifford play’d the 
+orator, 
+Inferring arguments of mightly force. 
+But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear 
+That things ill-got had ever bad success? 
+And happy always was it for that son 
+Whose father for his hoarding went to hell? 
+I'll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind; 
+And would my father had left me no more! 
+For all the rest is held at such a rate 
+
+
+660 THIRD PART OF 
+
+
+eer ee 
+
+
+¥ 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI [Act Il, Sc. I 
+
+
+As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep 
+Than in possession any jot of pleasure. 
+Ah, cousin York! would thy best friends did 
+know 
+How it doth grieve me that thy head is here! 
+Q. Mar. My lord, cheer up your spirits: 
+our foes are nigh, 
+And this soft courage makes your followers 
+faint. ; 
+You promised knighthood to our forward son: 
+Unsheathe your sword, and dub him presently. 
+Edward, kneel down. 60 
+K. Hen, Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight; 
+And learn this lesson, draw thy sword in right. 
+Prince. My gracious father, by your kingly 
+leave, 
+I'll draw it as apparent to the crown, 
+And in that quarrel use it to the death. 
+Clif. Why, that is spoken like a toward 
+
+
+prince. 
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+Mess, Royal commanders, be in readiness: 
+For with a band of thirty thousand men 
+Comes Warwick, backing of the Duke of 
+
+York: 
+And in the towns, as they do march along, 70 
+Proclaims him king, and many fly to him: 
+Darraign your battle, for they are at hand. 
+Clif. I would your highness would depart 
+the field: 
+The queen hath best success when you are 
+absent. 
+
+Q. Mar. Ay, good my lord, and leave us 
+
+to our fortune, 
+
+K. Hen, Why, that’s my fortune too; 
+
+therefore I'll stay. 
+
+North. Be it with resolution then to fight. 
+
+Prince. My royal father, cheer these noble 
+
+lords 
+And hearten those that fight in your defence: 
+Unsheathe your sword, good father; cry 
+
+
+“Saint George!’ 80 
+
+March. Enter Epwarp, Grorce, RICHARD, 
+
+Warwick, Norro.k, Montacue, and 
+Soldiers. 
+
+
+Edw. Now, perjured Henry! wilt thou 
+kneel for grace, 
+And set thy diadem upon my head; 
+Or bide the mortal fortune of the field? 
+Q. Mar. Go, rate thy minions, proud in- 
+sulting boy! 
+Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms 
+Before thy sovereign and thy lawful king? 
+Edw. | am his king, and he should bow 
+his knee; 
+I was adopted heir by his consent: 
+Since when, his oath is broke; for, as I hear, 
+
+
+You, that are king, though he do wear the 
+
+
+crown, 7 190 
+Have caused him, by new act of parliament, 
+To blot out me, and put his own son in. — 
+Clif. And reason too: 
+Who should succeed the father but the son? 
+Rich, Are you there, butcher? O, I can- 
+not speak! 
+Clif. Ay, crook-back, here I stand to 
+answer thee, 
+Or any he the proudest of thy sort. 
+Rich. "Twas you that kill’d young Rutland, 
+was it not? 
+
+
+Clif. Ay, and old York, and yet not satis~ 
+fied 
+
+
+ed, 
+Rich. For God's sake, lords, give signal to 
+the fight. 100° 
+War. What say’st thou, Henry, wilt thou 
+yield the crown? 
+Q. Mar. Why, how now, long-tongued 
+Warwick! dare you speak? 
+When you and | met at Saint Alban's last, 
+Your legs did better service than your hands, 
+War. Then ‘twas my turn to fly, and now 
+‘tis thine. 
+Clif. You said so much before, and yet 
+you fled. 
+War. ‘Twas not your valour, Clifford, 
+drove me thence. 
+North. No, nor your manhood that durst 
+make you stay. 
+Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee rever- 
+ently. 
+Break off the parley; for scarce I can refrain 
+The execution of my big-swoln heart ill 
+Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer. 
+Clif. I slew thy father, call’st thou him a 
+child > 
+Rich. Ay, like a dastard and a treacherous 
+coward, 
+As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland; 
+But ere’ sunset I'’ll make thee curse the deed, 
+K. Hen. Have done with words, my lords, 
+and hear me speak. 
+Q. Mar. Defy them then, or else hold 
+close thy lips. 
+K. Hen. | prithee, give no limits to my 
+tongue: 
+I am a king, and privileged to speak, 120 
+Clif. My liege, the wound that bred this 
+meeting here 
+Cannot be cured by words; therefore be still. 
+Rich. Then, executioner, unsheathe thy 
+sword: 
+By him that made us all, I am resolved 
+That Clifford’s manhood lies upon his tongue, 
+Edw. Say, Henry, shall I have my right, 
+or no? 
+A thousand men have broke their fasts to-day. 
+
+
+al te ed 
+
+
+perk 
+
+
+A ind ili 
+
+
+Ee SES 
+
+
+a eet 
+
+
+SRR Ee ae mE ee EY Te 
+
+
+Act Il, Sc. III] | THIRD PART OF 
+
+
+That ne'er shall dine unless thou yield the 
+“crown. 
+War. If thou deny, their blood upon thy 
+head; 
+For York in justice puts his armour on. 130 
+Prince. If that be right which Warwick 
+says is right, 
+
+
+_ There is no wrong, but every thing is right. 
+
+
+Rich. Whoever got thee, there thy mother 
+stands; 
+For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother’s tongue. 
+~Q. Mar. But thou art neither like thy sire 
+nor dam; 
+But like a foul mis-shapen stigmatic, 
+
+
+Mark’d by the destinies to be avoided, 
+
+
+- As venom toads, or lizards’ dreadful stings. 
+
+
+Rich. Iron of Naples hid with English gilt, 
+Whose father bears the title of a king,— 140 
+As if a channel should be call’d the sea,— 
+Shamest thou not, knowing whence thou art 
+
+extraught, 
+To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart? 
+
+Edw. A wisp of straw were worth a thou- 
+
+sand crowns, 
+To make this shameless callet know herself. 
+Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou, 
+Although thy husband may be Menelaus; 
+And ne'er was Agamemnon’s brother wrong’d 
+By that false woman, as this king by thee. 
+His father revell’d in the heart of France, 150 
+And tamed the king, and made the dauphin 
+stoop ; : 
+And had he match’d according to his state, 
+He might have kept that glory to this day; 
+But when he took a beggar to his bed, 
+And graced thy poor sire with his bridal-day, 
+
+
+_ Even then that sunshine brew'd a shower for 
+
+
+t him, 
+That wash’d his father’s fortune forth of 
+
+
+France, 
+
+
+_ And heap’d sedition on his crown at home. 
+
+
+For what hath broach’d this tumult but thy 
+pride? 
+
+Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept; 
+
+And we, in pity of the gentle king, 161 
+
+
+_ Had slipp’d our claim until another age. 
+
+
+Geo. But when we saw our sunshine made 
+thy spring, 
+
+
+_ And that thy summer bred us no increase, 
+
+
+We set the axe to thy usurping root; 
+
+And though the edge hath something hit our- 
+selves, 
+
+Yet, know thou, since we have begun to strike, 
+
+We'll never leave till we have hewn thee 
+down, 
+
+Or bathed thy growing with our heated bloods. 
+
+Edw. And, in this resolution, I defy thee: 
+Not willing any longer conference, 171 
+Since thou deniest the gentle king to speak. 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI 661 
+
+
+Sound trumpets! let our bloody colours wave! 
+And either victory, or else a grave. 
+Q. Mar. Stay, Edward. 
+Edw. No, wrangling woman, we'll no 
+longer stay: 
+These words will cost ten thousand lives 
+this day. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II]. A field of battle between Towton 
+
+
+and Saxton, in Yorkshire. 
+
+
+Alarum. Excursions. Enter Warwick. 
+
+
+War. Forspent with toil, as runners with 
+a race, 
+I lay me down a little while to breathe: 
+For strokes received, and many blows repaid, 
+Have robb’d my strong-knit sinews of their 
+strength, 
+And spite of spite needs must I rest awhile. 
+
+
+Enter Epwarb, running. 
+
+
+Edw. Smile, gentle heaven! or strike, un- 
+gentle death! 
+For this world frowns, and Edward’s sun is 
+clouded. 
+War. How now, my lord! what hap? what 
+hope of good? 
+
+
+Enter GEORGE. 
+
+
+Geo. Our hap is loss, our hope but sad 
+despair; z 
+Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us: 16 
+What counsel give you? whither shall we fly? 
+Edw. Bootless is flight, they follow us 
+with wings; 
+And weak we are and cannot shun pursuit. 
+
+
+Enter RICHARD. 
+
+
+Rich, Ah, Warwick, why hast thou with- 
+
+drawn thyself? 
+
+Thy brother’s blood the thirsty earth hath 
+drunk, 
+
+Broach’d with the steely point of Clifford's 
+lance; 
+
+And in the very pangs of death he cried, 
+
+Like to a dismal clangor heard from far, 
+
+
+“Warwick, revenge! brother, reveage my 
+death!’ 
+So, underneath the belly of their steeds, 20 
+
+
+That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood, 
+
+The noble gentleman gave up the ghost. 
+Wear. Then let the earth be drunken with 
+
+our blood: 
+
+Ill kill my horse, because I will not fly. 
+
+Why stand we like soft-hearted women here, 
+
+Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage; 
+
+And look upon, as if the tragedy 
+
+Were play’d in iest by counterfeiting actors? 
+
+
+| Here on my knee I yow to God above, 
+
+
+662 THIRD PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI [Acr Il, Sc. V 
+
+
+I'll never pause again, never stand still, 30 
+Till either death hath closed these eyes of mine 
+r fortune given me measure of revenge. 
+Ed». O Warwick, I do bend my knee 
+with thine; 
+And in this vow do chain my soul to thine! 
+And, ere my knee rise from the earth’s cold 
+face, 
+I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee, 
+Thou setter up and plucker down of kings, 
+Beseeching thee, if with thy will it stands 
+That to my foes this body must be prey, 
+Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope, 
+And give sweet passage to my sinful soul! 4] 
+Now, lords, take leave until we meet, again, 
+Where’er it be, in heaven or in earth. 
+Rich. Brother, give me thy hand; and, 
+gentle Warwick, 
+Let me embrace thee in my weary arms: 
+I, that did never weep, now melt with woe 
+That winter should cut off our spring-time so. 
+War. Away, away! Once more, sweet 
+lords, farewell. 
+Geo. Yet let us all together to our troops, 
+And give them leave to fly that will not stay ; 
+
+
+And call them pillars that will stand to us; 51 
+
+And, if we thrive, promise them such rewards 
+
+As victors wear at the Olympian games: 
+
+This may plant courage in_ their quailing 
+
+breasts; 
+
+For yet is hope of life and Victory. 
+
+Forslow no longer, make we hence amain. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+ScENE IV. Another part of the field. 
+
+
+Excursions. _ Enter RicHard and CLIFForD. 
+Rich. Now, Clifford, I have singled thee 
+alone: 
+Suppose this arm is for the Duke of York, 
+And this for Rutland; both bound to revenge, 
+Wert thou environ’d with a brazen wall. 
+Clif. Now, Richard, I am with thee here 
+alone: 
+This is-the hand that stabb’d thy father York; 
+And this the hand that slew thy brother 
+Rutland; 
+And here's the heart that triumphs in their 
+death 
+And cheers these hands that slew thy sire and 
+brother 
+To execute the like upon thyself ; 10 
+And so, have at thee! 
+[They fight. Warwick comes; Clifford flies. 
+Rich. Nay, Warwick, single out some 
+other chase; 
+For I myself will hunt this wolf to death. 
+
+
+[Exeunt. | 
+
+
+Scene V. Another part of the feld. 
+
+
+Alarum. Enter Kinc HENRY alone. 
+
+
+King. This battle fares like to the morn- 
+
+ing’s war, 
+
+What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, 
+
+When dying clouds contend with growing light 
+
+Can neither call it perfect day nor night. 
+
+Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea 
+
+Forced by the tide to combat with the wind; 
+
+Now sways it that way, like the selfsame sea 
+
+Forced to retire by fury of the wind: : 
+
+Sometime the flood prevails, and then the 
+wind; 
+
+Now one the better, then another best; 
+
+Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast, 
+
+Yet neither conqueror nor conquered: a 
+
+So is the equal poise of this fell war. 
+
+Here on this molehill will I sit me down, 
+
+To whom God will, there be the victory ! 
+
+For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too, 
+
+Have chid me from the battle; swearing both 
+
+They prosper best of all when I am thence. 
+
+Would I were dead! if God's good will were 
+30; 
+
+For what is in this world but grief and woe? 
+
+O! God! methinks it were a happy life, 
+
+To be no better than a homely swain; 
+
+To sit upon a hill, as I do how, 
+
+To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, 
+
+Thereby to see the minutes how they run, 
+
+How many make the hour full complete; 
+
+How many hours bring about the day; 
+
+How many days will finish up the year; 
+
+How many yéars a mortal man may live. 
+
+When this is known, then to divide the times: 
+
+So many hours must I tend my flock; 31 
+
+So many hours must I take my rest; 
+
+So many hours must I contemplate; 
+
+So many hours must I sport myself ; 
+
+So many days my ewes have been with young; 
+
+So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean; 
+
+So many years ere I shall shear the fleece: 
+
+So minutes, hours, days, months, and years, 
+
+Pass'd over to the end they were created, 
+
+Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. 
+
+Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how 
+lovely! 
+
+Gives not the hawthorn-bush a sweeter shade — 
+
+To shepherds looking on their silly sheep, 
+
+Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy 
+
+To kings that fear their subjects’ treachery ? 
+
+O, yes, it doth; a thousand-fold it doth. 
+
+And to conclude, the shepherd's homely curds, 
+
+His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, 
+
+His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, 
+
+All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, 50 
+
+Is far beyond a prince's delicates, 
+
+His viands sparkling in a golden cup, 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+A ds a 
+Act Il, Sc. V] 
+
+
+‘THIRD PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI O62, 
+
+
+His body couched in a curious bed, 
+When care, mistrust, and treason waits on him. 
+
+
+- Alarum. Enter a Son that has killed his 
+
+3 father, dragging in the dead body. 
+Son. Ill blows the wind that profits nobody. 
+_ This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight, 
+_ May be possessed with some store of crowns; 
+_ And I, that haply take them from him now, 
+
+
+_ May yet ere night yield both my life and them ‘ 
+( Shed seas of tears and ne'er be satisfied! 
+
+
+_ To-some man else, as this dead man doth me. 
+Who's this? O God! it is my father’s face, 
+~ Whom in this conflict I unwares have kill’d. 
+
+_ O heavy times, begetting such events! 
+From London by the king was I press'd forth; 
+My father, being the Earl of Warwick's man, 
+
+Came on the part of York, press'd by his 
+
+master ; 
+
+_ And I, who at his hands received my life, 
+Have by my hands of life bereaved him. 
+
+> Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did! 
+
+_ And pardon, father, for I knew not thee! 70 
+
+_ My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks; 
+
+And no more words till they have flow'd 
+
+¢ their fill. 
+
+K. Hen. O piteous spectacle! O bloody 
+
+times! 
+
+- Whiles lions war and battle for their dens, 
+
+- Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity. 
+
+_ Weep, wretched man, I'll aid thee tear for 
+
+tear; 
+
+_ And let our hearts and eyes, like civil war, 
+
+b Be blind with tears, and break o’ercharged 
+
+: with grief. 
+
+
+, _ Enter a Father that has killed his son, 
+bringing in the body. 
+
+
+Fath. Thou that so stoutly hast resisted me, 
+_ Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold; 80 
+For I have bought it with an hundred blows. 
+But let me see: is this our foeman’s face? 
+Ah, no, no, no, it is mine only son! 
+Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee, 
+Throw up thine eye! see, see what showers 
+arise, 
+Blown with the windy tempest of my heart, 
+Upon thy wounds, that kill mine eye and heart! 
+CO, pity, God, this miserable age! 
+What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly, 
+_ Erroneous, mutinous and unnatural, 
+This deadly quarrel daily doth beget! 
+_ O boy, thy father gave thee life too soon, 
+_ And hath bereft thee of thy life too late! 
+K. Hen. Woe above woe! grief more 
+than common grief! 
+© that my death would stay these ruthful 
+deeds! 
+O, pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity! 
+- The red rose and the white are on his face, 
+
+
+eee Fs Sa ele 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+The fatal colours of our striving houses: 
+
+The one his purple blood right well resembles ; 
+
+The other his pale cheeks, methinks, presenteth: 
+
+Wither one rose, and let the other flourish; 101 
+
+If you contend, a thousand lives must wither. 
+Son. How will my mother for a father's 
+
+death 
+
+Take on with me and ne'er be satisfied! 
+
+Fath. How will my. wife for slaughter of 
+
+
+my son 
+
+
+K. Hen. How will the country. for these 
+woful chances ; 
+Misthink the king and not be satisfied! 
+Son. Was ever son so rued a father’s 
+death > 
+Fath. Was ever father so bemoan’d his 
+* son? 
+K. Hen. Was ever king so grieved for 
+subjects’ woe? VW 
+Much is your sorrow; mine ten times so much. 
+Son. I'll bear thee hence, where, 1] may 
+weep my fill. [Exit with the body. 
+Fath. These arms of mine shall be thy 
+winding-sheet; 
+My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre, 
+For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go; 
+My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bel}; 
+And so obsequious will thy father. be, 
+7Even for the loss of thee, having no, more, 
+As Priam was for all his valiant sons, | 
+I'll bear thee hence; and let them fight that 
+will, 
+For I have murdered where I shouldynot kall, 
+[Exit with the body. 
+K. Hen. Sad-hearted men, much. overgone 
+with care, 
+Here sits a king more woful than you are. 
+
+
+Alarums: excursions. Enter QUEEN Marca- 
+RET, the PRINCE, and EXETER. 
+
+
+Prince. Fly, father, fly! all 
+friends are fled, 
+And Warwick rages like a chafed bull: 
+Away! for death doth hold us in pursuit. 
+Q. Mar. Mount you, my lord; towards 
+Berwick post amain: 
+Edward and Richard, like a brace of grey- 
+hounds 
+Having the fearful flying hare in sight, 130 
+With fiery eyes sparkling for very wrath, 
+And bloody steel grasp’d in their ireful hands, 
+Are at our backs; and therefore hence amain. 
+Exe. Away! for vengeance comes along 
+with them: 
+Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed; 
+Or else come after: I'll away before. 
+K. Hen. Nay, take me with thee, good 
+
+
+sweet Exeter: 
+
+
+for your 
+
+
+64 THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI [Acr Il, Sc. VI 
+
+
+Not that I fear to stay, but love to go 
+Whither the queen intends, Forward; away! 
+[Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene VI. Another part of the field, 
+A loud alarum. Enter CLIFFORD, wounded. 
+Clif. Here burns my candle out; ay, here 
+it dies, 
+"Which, whiles..it lasted, gave King Henry 
+light. 
+© Lancaster, I fear thy overthrow 
+More than my body's parting with my soul! 
+“My love and. fear glued many friends to thee; 
+And, now’? fall, thy tough commixture melts, 
+Impairmg Henry, ‘strengthening _misproud 
+ork, 
+The common people swarm like summer flies; 
+And whither fly the gnats but to the sun?” 
+And who shines now but Henry's enemies? 10 
+‘O Phoebus, hadst thou never given consent 
+That Phaéthon should check thy fiery steeds, | I 
+‘Thy burning car never had scorch’d the earth! 
+And, Henry, hadst thou sway'd as kings 
+should do, 
+Or as thy father and his father did, 
+Giving no ground unto the house of York, 
+They never then had sprung like summer flies; 
+T and ten thousand in this luckless realm 
+Had left no mourning widows for our death; 
+And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in 
+peace, 
+For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air? 
+And what makes robbers bold but too much 
+
+
+War. No, ‘tis impossible he should escape; 
+For, though before his face I speak the words 
+Your brother Richard mark'd him for the 
+
+grave: 
+And wheresoe’er he is, he ’s surely dead. 41 
+[Clifford groans and dies, 
+
+Edw. Whose soul is that which takes her 
+
+heavy leave? 
+
+Rich. A deadly groan, like life and death's 
+
+departing. 
+w. See who it is: and, now the battle ‘s 
+ended, 
+If friend or foe, let him be gently used. 
+Rich. Revoke that doom of mercy, for ‘tis 
+Clifford; 
+Who not contented that he lopp'd the branch 
+In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth, 
+But set his murdering knife unto the root 
+From whence that tender spray did sweetly 
+spring, 
+mean our princely father, Duke of York. 
+War. From off the gates of York fetch 
+down the head, 
+Your father’s head, which Clifford placed 
+there; 
+Instead whereof let this supply the room: 
+Measure for measure must be answered, 
+Edw. Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to 
+our house, 
+That nothing sung but death to us and ours: 
+Now death shall stop his dismal threatening 
+sound, 
+And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak. 
+
+
+lenity > War. | think his understanding is bereft.60 
+Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my | Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks 
+wounds; to thee? 
+No way to fly; nor strength to hold out flight: | Dark cloudy death o’ershades his beams of 
+The foe is merciless, and will not pity; ife, 
+
+
+And he nor sees nor hears us what we say. 
+
+
+Rich. O, would ke did! and so perhaps he 
+doth: 
+
+
+For at their hands I have deserved no pity. 
+
+The air hath got into my deadly wounds, 
+
+And much effuse of blood doth make me faint. $ 
+
+‘Come, York and Richard, Warwick and the| ’Tis but his policy to counterfeit, 
+
+Because he would avoid such bitter taunts 
+
+Which in the time of death he gave our 
+father. 
+
+Geo. If so thou think'st, vex him with eager 
+
+words, 
+
+
+rest; 
+1 stabb’d your fathers’ bosoms, split my breast. 
+[He faints. 
+
+
+Alarum-and retreat, Enter Epwarp, GeorcE, 
+RicHarp, Monracue, Warwick, and 
+Soldiers, 
+
+
+grace. 
+Edw. Now breathe we, lords: good fortune 
+
+
+Edw. Clifford, repent in bootless penitence. 
+
+
+bids us pause, 31 War. Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults. 
+And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful} Geo. While we devise fell tortures for thy 
+' — Jooks. . faults. 
+‘Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen,| Rich. Thou didst love York, and I am son 
+That led calm Henry, though he were a king, to York, 
+As doth a sail, fill’d with a fretting gust, Edw. Thou pitied’st Rutland: I will pity 
+Command an argosy to stem the waves. thee. 
+
+
+But think you, my lords, that Clifford fled with 
+
+
+Geo. Where's Captain Margaret, to fence 
+them? 
+
+
+you now? 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+Rich. Clifford, ask mercy and obtain no 
+
+
+ie 
+
+
+Act Ill, Sc. 1] THIRD PART OF 
+
+
+\ War. They mock thee, Clifford: swear as 
+thou wast wont. 
+
+Rich. What, not an oath? nay, then the 
+world goes hard 
+
+When Clifford cannot spare his friends an oath. 
+
+I know by that he’s dead; and, by my soul, 
+
+If this sight hand would buy two. hours’ hfe, 
+
+_ That I in all despite might >rail at him, 
+
+This hand should chop it off, and with the 
+
+issuing blood 
+
+Stifle the villain whose unstanched thirst 
+_ York and young Rutland could not satisfy. 
+
+War. Ay, but he’s dead: off with the 
+traitor'’s head, 
+
+And rear it in the place your father’s stands. 
+- And now toe London with triumphant march, 
+‘ There to be crowned England's royal king: 
+
+From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to 
+
+France, 
+
+\ And ask the Lady Bona for thy queen: 90 
+So shalt thou sinew both these lands together; 
+And, having France thy friend, thou shalt 
+
+_ not dread 
+
+The scatter’d foe that-hopes to rise again; 
+
+For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt, 
+
+Yet look to have them buzz to offend thine 
+
+ears. 
+
+First will I see the coronation; 
+
+‘And then to Brittany I ‘Il cross the sea, 
+
+To effect this marriage, so it please my lord. 
+
+Edw. Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, 
+let it be; 
+
+For in thy shoulder do I build my seat, 100 
+
+_ And never will I undertake the thing 
+Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting. 
+Richard, I will create thee Duke of Glouces- 
+
+ter, 
+
+And saree of Clarence: Warwick, as our- 
+
+sell, 
+
+Shall do and undo as him pleaseth best. 
+
+Rich, Let me be Duke of Clarence, George 
+of Gloucester; 
+
+For Gloucester’s dukedom is too ominous, 
+
+
+War. Tut, that’s a foolish observation; 
+Richard, be Duke of Gloucester. Now to 
+London, : 
+To see these honours in possession. 110 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT Ill. 
+
+
+Scene I. A forest in the north of England. 
+Enter two Keepers, with cross-bows in their 
+hands. 
+
+First. Keep. Under this thick-grown brake 
+we'll shroud ourselves; 
+For through this laund anon the deer will 
+come; 
+And in this covert will we make our stand, 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI 605 
+
+
+Culling the principal of all the deer. 
+Sec, Keep. I'll stay above. the hill, so bots 
+may shoot. 
+First Keep. That cannot ibe the noise of 
+thy cross-bow 
+Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is losi. 
+Here stand we both, and aim we at the best: 
+And, for the time shall not seem tedious, 
+I'll tell thee what befel me on a day;. 16 
+In this self-place where now we mean to stand. 
+Sec. Keep. Here comes a man; let's stay 
+till he be past. 
+
+
+Enter Kinc HEnry, disguised, with a prayer- 
+book. 
+
+
+K. Hen. From Scotland am | stol’n, even 
+of pure love, 
+To greet mine own. land with my wishful 
+sight. 
+No, Harry, Harry, ‘tis no land of thine; 
+Thy place is fill’d, thy sceptre wrung from 
+thee, 
+Thy balm wash’d off wherewith thou wast 
+anointed: 
+No bending knee will call thee Caesar now, 
+No humble suitors press to speak for right, 
+No, not a man comes for redress. of thee; 
+For how can I help them, and not myself? 
+First Keep. Ay, here's a deer whose 
+skin's a keeper's fee: 
+This is the quondam king; let's seize upon 
+
+
+im. 
+K. Hen. 
+versity, : 
+For wise men say it is the wisest course. 
+Sec. Keep. Why linger we? let us lay 
+hands upon him. 
+First Keep. Forbear awhile; we ‘Il hear a 
+little: more. 
+K. Hen. My queen and son are gone to 
+France for aid; 
+And, as I hear, the great ‘commanding War- 
+
+
+2G 
+
+
+Let me embrace thee, sour ac- 
+
+
+wick 
+Is- thither gone, to crave the French king's 
+sister 36 
+
+
+To wife for Edward: if this news be true, 
+
+Poor queen and son, your labour is but lost; 
+
+For Warwick is a subtle orator, 
+
+And Lewis a prince soon won with moving 
+words. 
+
+By this account then Margaret may win hun; 
+
+For she’s a woman to be pitied much: 
+
+
+‘Her sighs will make a ‘battery in his breast; 
+
+
+Her tears will pierce into a marble heart; 
+
+The tiger will be mild whiles:she doth mourn; 
+
+And Nero will be tainted with remorse, 46 
+
+To hear and see her plaints, her brinish tears. 
+
+Ay, but she’s come to beg, Warwick, ‘to 
+give; 
+
+
+666 THIRD PART OF 
+
+
+She, on his léft side, craving aid for Henry, 
+He, on his right, asking a wife for Edward. 
+She weeps, and says her Henry «is deposed; 
+He smiles, 4nd says his Edward is install’d; 
+That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no 
+more; 
+Whiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the 
+wrong, 
+Ioferreth arguments of mighty strength, 
+And in conclusion wins the king from her, 50 
+With promise of his sister, and what else, 
+To strengthen and support King Edward's 
+place. . -}. 
+O Margaret, thus ‘twill be; and thou, poor 
+soul, 
+Act then':forsaken, as thou went'st forlorn! 
+Sec. Keep. Say, what art thou that talk’st 
+of kings and queens? 
+K. Hen. More than I seem, and less than 
+I was born to: 
+A man‘“‘at least, for less I should not be; 
+And men may talk of kings, and why not I? 
+' Sec. Keep, Ay, but thou talk’st as if thou 
+wert a king. 
+K. Hen. Why, so I am, in mind; and 
+that's enough. 60 
+» Sec. Keep. But, if thou be a king, where 
+is thy. crown? 
+-K. Hen. My crown is in my heart, not 
+on my head; 
+Not deck'd with diamonds and Indian stones, 
+Nor to be seen: my crown is called content: 
+A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy. 
+Sec. Keep. Well, if you be a king crown’d 
+with content, 
+Your crown content and you must be con- 
+tented 
+To go along with us; for, as we think, 
+You are the king King Edward hath deposed; 
+And we. his subjects sworn in all alle- 
+giance 70 
+Will apprehend you as his enemy, 
+K. Hen. But did you never swear, and 
+break an oath? 
+Sec. Keep. No, never such an oath; nor 
+will-not now. 
+K. Hen. Where did you dwell when I was 
+King of England? 
+» Sec. Keep. Here in this country, where we 
+now remain. 
+K. Hen. I -was anointed king at nine 
+months old; 
+My father and my grandfather were kings, 
+And you were sworn true subjects unto me: 
+And tell me, then, have you not broke your 
+' oaths? 
+First’ Keep. No; 
+For we -were subjects but while you were 
+king, 
+
+
+. 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI [Act Ill, Sc, I] 
+
+
+K. Hen. Why, am I dead? do I not 
+breathe a man? 
+Ah, simple men, you know not what you 
+swear! 
+
+
+Look, as I blow this feather from my face, 
+And as the air blows it to me again, 
+Obeying with my wind when I do blew, * 
+And yielding to another when it blows, 
+Commanded always by the greater gust; ° 
+Such is the lightness of you common men, 
+But do not break your oaths; for of that sin 
+My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty. 
+Go where you will, the king shall be com- 
+manded; 
+And be you kings, command, and I'l] obey. 
+First Keep. We are true subjects to the 
+king, King Edward. 
+K. Hen. So would you be again to Henry, 
+If he were seated as King Edward is. 
+First Keep. We charge you, in God's 
+name, and the king’s, 
+To go with us unto the officers. 
+K. Hen. In God's name, lead; your king's 
+name be obey'd: 
+And what God will, that let your king per- 
+
+
+orm; 
+And what he will, I humbly yield unto. 101 
+[Exeunt. 
+Scene II. London. The palace, 
+
+
+Enter Kine Epwarp, GLouceEsTER, 
+CLaRENCE, and Lapy Grey. 
+K. Edw. Brother of Gloucester, at Saint 
+Alban’s field 
+This wide husband, Sir Richard Grey, was 
+slain, 
+His lands then seized by the conqueror: 
+Her suit is now to repossess those lands; 
+Which we in justice cannot well deny, 
+Because in quarrel of the house of York 
+The worthy gentleman did lose his life. 
+Glou, Your highness shall do well to grant 
+her suit; ; 
+It were dishonour to deny it her. 
+K, Edw. It were no less; but yet I'll make 
+a pause, 10 j 
+Glou. [Aside to Clar.] Yea, is it so? 
+I see the lady hath a thing to grant, 
+Before the king will grant her humble suit. 
+Clar. [Aside to Glou.]He knows the game: 
+how true he keeps the wind! } 
+Glou. [Aside to Clar.] Silence! . 
+K. Edw. Widow, we will consider of your 
+suit; 
+And come some other time to know our mind, 
+L. Grey. Right gracious lord, I cannot 
+brook delay: 
+May it please your highness to resolve me 
+now; 
+
+
+me, 
+
+
+“G 
+
+
+' 
+: 
+q 
+
+
+ea ae 
+
+
+iter oe acs 
+: 
+
+
+x 
+
+
+te ei a ee 
+
+
+ie oe 
+
+
+ca 
+( 
+
+
+“ie By 
+
+
+Act, Ill, Se. 1] 
+
+
+And what your pleasure is, shall satisfy me. 
+
+
+-Glou. [Aside to Clar.|Ay, widow? then 
+
+
+I'll warrant you all your lands, 
+
+
+An if what pleases him shall pleasure you. 
+Fight closer, or, good faith, you'll catch a 
+
+
+blow. 
+
+Clar.. [Aside to Glou.] I fear her not, 
+unless she chance to fall. 
+
+Glou. [Aside to Clar.] God forbid that! 
+for he'll take vantages. 
+
+K. Edw. How many children hast thou, 
+widow ?. tell me. 
+
+Clar. [Aside to Glou.] I think he means 
+to beg a child of her. 
+
+Glou. [Aside to Clar.] Nay, whip me 
+then: he'll rather give her two. 
+
+L. Grey. Three, my most gracious lord. 
+
+Glou. [Aside to Clar.] You shall have 
+four, if youll be ruled by him. 30 
+
+K. Edw. ‘Twere pity they should lose 
+their father’s lands. 
+
+L. Grey. Be pitiful, dread lord, and grant 
+it then. 
+
+K. Edw. Lords, give us leave: I'll try this 
+widow's wit. 
+
+Glou. [Aside to Clar.] Ay, good leave 
+
+
+have you; for you will have leave, 
+
+
+Till youth take leave and leave you to the 
+
+
+crutch. [Glou. and Clar. retire. 
+K. Edw. Now tell me, madam, do you 
+love your children? 
+L.Grey. Ay, full as dearly as I love 
+myself. 
+K. Edw. And would you not do much to 
+do them good? 
+L. Grey. To do them good, I would sus- 
+tain some harm. 
+Edw. Then get your husband's lands, 
+to do them good. 40 
+L. Grey. Therefore I came unto your ma- 
+
+
+jesty. 
+
+K. Edw. 1'll tell you how these lands are 
+to be got. ~ 
+
+L. Grey. So shall you bind me to your 
+highness’ service. 
+K. Edw. What service wilt thou do me, if 
+I give them? i 
+L. Grey. What you command, that rests 
+in me to do. 
+
+K. Edw. But you will take exceptions to 
+my boon. 
+
+L. Grey. No, gracious lord, except I can- 
+not do it. 
+
+K. Edw. Ay, but thou canst do what I 
+mean to ask. 
+
+L. Grey. Why, then I will do what your 
+grace commands. 
+
+Glou. [Aside to Clar.] He plies her hard; 
+
+
+and much’ rain wears the marble. 50 
+
+
+THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 667 
+
+
+Clar, [Aside to Glou.] As red as fire! 
+nay, then her wax must melt. 
+L. Grey. What stops my lord? shall I not 
+hear my task? 
+K. Edw. An easy task; "tis but to love a 
+king. 
+L. Grey. That's soon perform'd, because 
+I am a subject. 
+K. Edw. Why, then, thy husband's lands 
+I freely give thee. 
+L. Grey. I take my leave with many thou- 
+sand thanks. 
+Glou. » [Aside to Clar.]. The match is 
+made; she seals it with a curtsy. 
+K. Edw. But stay thee, ‘tis the fruits of 
+love I mean. 
+L. Grey. The fruits of love I mean, my 
+loving liege. 
+K. Edw. Ay, but, I fear me, in another 
+sense. 60 
+What love think’st thou, I sue so much to get? 
+Grey. My love till death, my humble 
+thanks, my prayers; 
+That love which virtue begs and virtue grants. 
+K. Edw. No, by my troth, I did not mean 
+such love. 
+L. Grey. Why, then you mean not as I 
+thought you did. 
+K. Edw. But now you partly may perceive 
+my mind. 
+L. Grey. My mind will never grant what 
+I perceive 
+Your highness aims at, if I aim aright. 
+K. Edw. To tell thee plain, I aim to lie 
+with thee. 
+L. Grey. To tell you plain, I had rather 
+lie in prison. 70 
+K.Edw. Why, then thou shalt not have 
+thy husband’s lands. 
+L. Grey. Why, then mine honesty shall be 
+my dower; 
+For by that loss I will not purchase them. 
+K. Edw. Therein thou wrong’st thy chil- 
+dren mightily. 
+rey. Herein your highness wrongs 
+both them and me. 
+But, mighty lord, this merry inclination 
+Accords not with the sadness of my suit: 
+Please you dismiss me, either with ‘ay’ or 
+
+
+no. 
+K. Edw. Ay, if thou wilt say ‘ay’ to my 
+request; 
+No, if thou dost say ‘no’ to my demand. 80 
+L. Grey. Then, no, my lord. My suit is 
+at an end. 
+Glou. [Aside to Clar.] The widow likes 
+him not, she knits her brows. 
+Clar. [Aside to Glou.] He is the bluntest 
+
+
+wooer in Christendom. 
+
+
+668 
+
+
+THIRD PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI [Acr Ill, Se. Il 
+
+
+K. Edw. [Aside] Her looks do argue, her 
+replete with modesty ; 
+Her words do show her wit incomparable; 
+All her perfections challenge sovereignty : 
+One way or other, she is for a king; 
+And she shall be my love, or else my 
+queen.— 
+Say that King Edward take thee for his queen ? 
+Grey. ‘Tis better said than done, my 
+gracious lord: 90 
+I am a subject fit to jest withal, 
+But far unfit to be a sovereign, 
+K. Edw. Sweet widow, by my state | 
+swear to thee 
+I speak no more than what my soul intends: 
+And that is, to enjoy thee for my love. 
+L. Grey, And that is more than I will 
+yield unto: 
+I know I am too mean to be your queen, 
+And yet too good to be your concubine. 
+K. Edw. You cavil, widow: I did mean, 
+
+
+my queen. 
+L. Grey. "Twill grieve your grace my sons 
+should call you father. 100 
+
+
+K. Edw. No more than when my daugh- 
+ters call thee mother. 
+hou art a widow, and thou hast some chil- 
+
+
+dren; 
+And, by God’s mother, I, being but a bachelor, 
+Have other some: why, ‘tis a happy thing 
+To be the father unto many sons, 
+Answer no more, for thou shalt be my queen. 
+
+
+Glou, [Aside to Clar.] The ghostly father | M 
+
+
+now hath done his shrift. 
+
+Clar. [Aside to Glou.] When he. was 
+made a shriver, ‘twas for shift. 
+
+K, Edw. Brothers, you muse what chat we 
+
+
+two have had. 
+Glou. The widow likes it not, for she looks 
+very sad, 110 
+
+
+K. Edw. You'ld think it strange if | 
+should marry her. 
+
+Clar. To whom, my lord? 
+
+K. Edw. Why, Clarence, to myself. 
+
+Glou. That would be ten days’ wonder at 
+the least. 
+
+Clar, That's a day longer than a wonder 
+lasts. 
+
+Glou. By so much is the wonder in ex- 
+tremes, 
+
+K. Edw. Well, jest on, brothers: I can tell 
+you both 
+
+Her suit is granted for her husband's lands. 
+
+
+Enter a Nobleman. 
+Nob. My gracious lord, Henry your foe is 
+
+
+taken 
+And brought your prisoner to your palace gate. 
+
+
+K. Edw. See that he be convey'd unto the 
+Tower: 120 
+And go we, brothers, to the man that took him, 
+To question of his apprehension, 
+idow, go you along. Lords, use her hon- 
+ourably, [Exeunt all but Gloucester. 
+Glou. Ay, Edward will use women hon- 
+ourably, 
+Would he were wasted, marrow bones and all, 
+That from his loins no hopeful branch may 
+spring, 
+To cross me from the golden time I look for! 
+And yet, between my soul's desire and me— 
+The lustful Edward's title buried — 129 
+Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Ed- 
+
+
+ward, 
+And all the unlook'd for issue of their bodies, . 
+To take their rooms, ere I can place myself: 
+A cold premeditation for my purpose! 
+Why, then, I do but dream on sovereignty ; 
+Like one that stands upon a promontory, 
+And spies a far-off shore where he would 
+tread, 
+Wishing his foot were equal with his eye, 
+And chides the sea that sunders him from 
+thence, 
+Saying, he ‘Il lade it dry to have his way: 
+So do I wish the crown, being so far off; 140 
+And so I chide the means that keeps me 
+from it; 
+And so I say, I'll cut the causes off, 
+Flattering me with impossibilities, 
+y eye's too quick, my heart o’erweens too 
+much, 
+Unless my hand and strength could equal them. 
+Well, say there is no kingdom then for 
+Richard; 
+What other pleasure can the world afford? 
+I'll make my heaven in a lady's lap, 
+And deck my body in gay ornaments, 
+And witch sweet ladies with my words and 
+looks. 
+O miserable thought! and more unlikely 
+Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns! 
+Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb: 
+And, for I should not deal in her soft laws, 
+She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe, 
+To shrink mine arm up like a wither’d shrub; 
+o make an envious mountain on my back, 
+Where sits deformity to mock my body; 
+o shape my legs of an unequal size; 
+To disproportion me in every part, 
+Like to a chaos, or an unlick’d bear-whelp 
+That carries no impression like the dam. 
+And am I then a man to be beloved? 
+O monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought! 
+en, since this earth affords no joy to me, 
+But to command, to check, to o'erbear such 
+As are of better nerson than myself, 
+
+
+. 
+
+
+Act III, Se. IIT] THIRD PART OF 
+
+
+I "Il make my heaven to dream upon the crown, 
+And, whiles I live, to account this world but 
+hell, 
+Until my mis-shaped trunk that bears this head 
+Be round impaled with a glorious crown. 171 
+And yet I know not how to get the crown, 
+For. many lives stand between me and home: 
+And I,—like one lost in a thorny wood, 
+That rends the thorns and is rent with the 
+thorns, 
+Seeking a way and straying from the way; 
+Not knowing how to find the open air, 
+But toiling desperately to find it out— 
+Torment myself to catch the English crown: 
+And from that torment | will free myself, 180 
+Or hew my way out with a bloody axe. 
+
+
+_ Why, I can smile, and murder whiles | smile, 
+
+
+And cry ‘Content’ to that which grieves my 
+heart, 
+And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, 
+And frame my face to all occasions. 
+Ill drown more sailors than the mermaid shall; 
+I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk; 
+I'll play the orator as well as Nestor, 
+Deceive more slily than Ulysses could, 
+And, like a Simon, take another Troy. 
+I can add colours to the chameleon, 
+Change shapes with Proteus for advantages, 
+And set the murderous Machiavel to school. 
+Can I do this, and cannot get a crown? 
+Tut, were it farther off, I'll pluck it down. 
+[Exit. 
+Scene III. France. The Kine's palace. 
+Flourish. _Enter-Lewis the French King, his 
+sister Bona, his Admiral, called BouRBON: 
+Prince Epwarp, QueeEN MarcareET, and 
+the Eart oF Oxrorp. Lewis: sils, and 
+riseth up again. 
+
+
+190 
+
+
+K. Lew. Fair Queen of England, worthy 
+
+
+Margaret, 
+Sit down with us: it ill befits thy state 
+And birth, that thou shouldst stand while 
+Lewis doth sit. 
+Q. Mar. No, mighty King of France: now 
+Margaret 
+Must strike her sail and learn awhile to serve 
+Where kings command. | was, I must confess, 
+Great Albion’s queen in former golden days: 
+But now mischance hath trod my title down, 
+And with dishonour laid me on the ground; 
+Where I must take like seat unto my fortune, 
+And té’ my humble seat conform myself. 11 
+K. Lew. Why, say, fair queen, whence 
+springs this deep despair > 
+Q. Mar. From such a cause as fills mine 
+eyes with tears 
+And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd 
+in cares. 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI 669 
+
+
+K. Lew. Whate'er it be, be thou still like 
+thyself, 
+And sit thee by our side: [Seats her by him] 
+yield not thy neck 
+To fortune’s yoke, but let thy dauntless mind 
+Stull ride in triumph over all mischance. 
+Be plain, Queen Margaret, and tell thy grief; 
+It shall be eased, if France can yield relief.20 
+Q. Mar. Those gracious words revive my 
+drooping thoughts 
+
+
+‘| And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to 
+
+
+speak. 
+Now, therefore, be it known to noble Lewis, 
+That Henry, sole possessor of my love, 
+Is of a king become a banish’d man, 
+And forced to live in Scotland a forlorn; 
+While proud ambitious Edward Duke of 
+York 
+Usurps the regal title and the seat 
+Of England's true-anointed lawful king. 
+This is the cause that I, poor Margaret, 30 
+vee this my son, Prince Edward, Henry's 
+eir, 
+Am come to crave thy just and lawful aid; 
+And if thou fail us, all our hope is done: 
+Scotland hath will to help, but cannot help; 
+Our people and our peers are both misled, 
+Our treasure seized, our soldiers put to flight, 
+And, as then seest, ourselves in heavy plight. 
+K. Lew. Renowned queen, with patience 
+calm the storm, 
+While we bethink a means to break it off. 
+Q. Mar. The more we stay, the stronger 
+grows our foe. 40 
+K. Lew. The more I stay, the more I'll 
+succour thee. 
+Q. Mar. O, but impatience waiteth on true 
+sorrow. 
+And see where comes the breeder of my sor- 
+row! 
+
+
+Enter Warwick. 
+
+
+K.Lew. What's he approacheth bolaiy 
+our presence ? 
+Q. Mar. Our Earl of Warwick, Edward's 
+greatest friend. 
+K. Lew. Welcome, brave Warwick! 
+What brings thee to France? 
+[He descends. She ariseth. 
+Q. Mar. Ay, now begins a second storm 
+to rise; 
+For this is he that moves both wind and tide. 
+War. From worthy Edward, King of 
+Albion, 
+My lord and sovereign, and thy vowed friend, 
+I come, in kindness and unfeigned love, 51 
+First, to do greetings to thy royal person; 
+And then to crave a league of amity; 
+
+
+670 
+
+
+THIRD PART OF KING HENRY ‘VI 
+
+
+[Act III, Sc. III 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+And lastly, to confirm that amity 
+With nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant 
+That virtuous Lady Bona, thy fair sister, 
+To England's king in lawful marriage. 
+Q. Mar. [Aside] If that go forward, 
+Henry’s hope is done. 
+War. |To Bona] And, gracious madam, 
+in our king’s behalf, 59 
+I am commanded, with your leave and favour, 
+Humbly to kiss your hand and with my tongue 
+To tell the passion of my sovereign’s heart; 
+Where fame, late entering at his heedful ears, 
+Hath placed thy beauty’s image and thy virtue. 
+Q. Mar. King Lewis and Lady Bona, hear 
+me speak, 
+Before you answer Warwick. His demand 
+Springs not from Edward's well-meant hon- 
+est love, 
+But from deceit bred by necessity ; 
+For how can tyrants safely govern home, 
+Unless abroad they purchase great alliance? 
+To prove him tyrant this reason may suffice, 
+That Henry liveth still; but were he dead, 
+Yet here Prince Edward stands, King 
+Henry’s son. 
+Look, therefore, Lewis, that by this league 
+and marriage 
+Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonour; 
+For though usurpers sway the rule awhile, 
+Yet heavens are just, and time suppresseth 
+
+
+wrongs. 
+War. Injurious Margaret! 
+Prince. And why not queen? 
+
+
+War. Because thy father Henry did usurp; 
+And thou no more art prince than she is queen. 
+Oxf. Then Warwick disannuls great John 
+of Gaunt, 
+Which did subdue the greatest part of Spain; 
+And, after John of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth, 
+Whose wisdom was a mirror to the wisest; 
+And, after that wise prince, Henry the Fifth, 
+Who by his prowess conquered all France: 
+From these our Henry lineally descends. 
+War. Oxford, how haps it, in this smooth 
+discourse, 
+You told not how Henry the Sixth hath lost 
+All that which Henry the Fifth had gotten? 
+Methink these peers of France should smile 
+at that. 
+But for the rest, you tell a pedigree 
+Of threescore and two years; a silly time 
+To make prescription for a kingdom's worth. 
+Oxf. Why, Warwick canst thou speak 
+against thy liege, 
+Whom thou obeyed’st thirty and six years, 
+And not betray thy treason with a blush? 
+War. Can Oxford, that did ever fence the 
+right, 
+Now buckler falsehood with a pedigree? 
+
+
+For shame! leave Henry, and call Edward 
+
+
+king. 
+Oxf. Call him my king by whose injur- 
+ious doom 10] 
+
+
+My elder brother, the Lord Aubrey Vere, 
+Was done to death? and more than so, my 
+father : 
+Even in the downfall of his mellow’d years, 
+When nature brought him to the door of 
+
+death? 
+No, Warwick, no; while life upholds this arm, 
+This arm upholds the house of Lancaster. 
+War. And I the house of York; 
+K, Lew. Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, 
+and Oxford, 
+Vouchsafe at our request, to stand aside, 110 
+While I use further conference with War- 
+wick, [They stand aloof. 
+Q. Mar. Heavens grant that Warwick's 
+words bewitch him not! 
+K, Lew. Now, Warwick, tell me, even 
+upon thy conscience, 
+Is Edward your true king? for I were loath 
+To link with him that were not lawful chosen, 
+War. Thereon I pawn my credit and 
+mine honour. 
+K. Lew. But is he gracious in the people's 
+
+
+eye> 
+
+War. The more that Henry was unfor- 
+tunate. 
+
+K. Lew. Then further, all dissembling set 
+aside, 
+
+
+Tell me for truth the measure of his loye 120 
+Unto our sistey Bona. 
+War. Such it seems 
+As may beseem a monarch like himself. 
+Myself have often heard him say and swear 
+That this his love was an eternal plant, 
+Whereof the root was fix'd in virtue's ground, 
+The leaves and fruit maintain'd with beauty’s 
+sun, 
+Exempt from envy, but not from disdain, 
+Unless the Lady Bona quit his pain. 
+K. Lew. Now, sister, let us hear your 
+firm resolve. 
+Bona. Your grant, or your denial, shall be 
+rine: 1 
+this 
+
+
+[To War.] Yet I confess that often ere 
+d 
+
+
+ay, 
+
+When I have heard your king’s desert re- 
+counted, 
+
+Mine ear hath temvted judgment to desire. 
+
+K. Lew. Then, Warwick, thus: our sister 
+
+shall be Edward's; 
+
+And now forthwith shall articles be drawn 
+
+Touching the jointure that your king must 
+make, 
+
+Which with her dowry shall be counterpoised. 
+
+Draw near, Queen Margaret, and be a witness 
+
+
+he 
+
+
+-And_ better 
+
+
+‘Act uu, ‘Se. UI] 
+
+
+THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+671 
+
+
+‘That Bona shall be wife to the English king. 
+
+
+Prince. To Edward, but not to the English 
+king. 140 
+
+Q. Mar. Deceitful Warwick! it was thy 
+device 
+
+
+By this alliance to make void my suit: 
+Before thy coming Lewis was Henry’s friend. 
+K.Lew. And ‘still is friend to him and 
+Margaret: 
+But if your title to the crown be weak, 
+As may appear by Edward's good success, - 
+Then ‘tis but reason that I be released 
+From giving aid which late I promised. 
+Yet shall you have all kindness at my hand 
+That your estate requires and mine can yield. 
+War. Henry now lives in Scotland at his 
+ease, 151 
+Where having nothing, nothing can he lose. 
+And as for you yourself, our quondam queen, 
+You have a father able to maintain you; 
+‘twere you troubled him than 
+France. 
+Q.Mar. Peace, impudent and shameless 
+Warwick, peace, 
+Proud setter up and puller down of kings! 
+I will not hence, till, with my talk and tears, 
+Both full of truth, I make King Lewis behold 
+Thy sly conveyance and thy lord's false love; 
+For both of you are birds of selfsame feather. 
+]Post blows a horn within. 
+K.Lew. Warwick, this is some post to us 
+or thee. 
+
+
+Enter a Post. 
+Post. [To War.) My lord ambassador, 
+
+
+these letters are for you, 
+Sent from your brother, Marquess Montague: 
+[To Lewis] These from our king unto your 
+majesty: 
+[To Margaret] And, madam, these for you; 
+from whom | know not. 
+[They all read their letters. 
+Oxf. I like it well that our fair queen and 
+mistress 
+Smiles at her news, while Warwick frowns at 
+his. 
+Prince. Nay, mark how Lewis stamps, as 
+he were nettled: 
+I hope all's for the best. 170 
+K. Lew. Warwick, what are thy news? and 
+yours, fair queen? 
+Q. Mar. Mine. such as fill my heart with 
+uhhoped joys. 
+War. Mine, full of sorrow and heart's dis- 
+content. 
+K. Lew. What! has your king married the 
+Lady Grey? 
+And now, to soothe your forgery and his, 
+Sends me a paper to persuade me patience ? 
+
+
+Is this the alliance that he seeks with France? 
+Dare he presume to scorn us in this manner? 
+pri I told your majesty as much be- 
+ore: 
+This proveth Edward's love and Warwick's 
+honesty. 180 
+War. King Lewis, I here protest, in sight 
+of heaven, 
+And by the hope I have of heavenly bliss, 
+That I am clear from this misdeed of Ed« 
+ward's, 
+No more my king, for he dishonours me, 
+But most himself, if he could see his shame. 
+Did I forget that by the house of! York 
+My father came untimely to his death? 
+Did I let pass the abuse done to my niece? 
+Did I impale him with the regal crown? 
+Did I put Henry from his native right? 190 
+And am | guerdon’d at the last with shame? 
+Shame on himself! for my desert is honour: 
+And to repair my honour lost for him, 
+I here renounce him and return to Henry. 
+My noble queen, let former grudges pass, 
+And henceforth I am thy true servitor: 
+I will revenge his wrong to Lady Bona 
+And replant Henry in his former state. 
+Q. Mar. Warwick, these words have turn'd 
+my hate to love; 
+And I forgive and quite forget old faults, 200 
+And joy that thou becomest King Henry’s 
+friend. 
+War. So much his friend, ay, his unfeigned 
+friend, 
+That, if King Lewis vouchsafe to furnish us 
+With some few bands of chosen soldiers, 
+I'll undertake to land them on our coast 
+And force the tyrant from his seat by war. 
+"Tis not his new-made bride shall succor him: 
+And as for Clarence, as my letters tell me, 
+He's likely now to fall from him, 
+For matching more for wanton lust than 
+honour, 210 
+Or than for strength and safety of our country. 
+Bona. Dear brother, how shall Bona be 
+revenged 
+But by thy help to this distressed queen? 
+Q. Mar. Renowned prince, how shall poor 
+Henry live, 
+Unless thou rescue him from foul despair? 
+
+
+Bona. My quarrel and this English queen’s 
+are one. 
+
+War. And mine, fair lady Bona, joins 
+with yours. 
+
+
+K.Lew. And mine with hers, and thine, 
+and Margaret's. 
+Therefore at last | firmly am resolved 
+You shall have aid. 220 
+Q. Mar. Let me give humble thanks for all 
+
+
+at once, 
+
+
+672 
+
+
+THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+~ 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc, I 
+
+
+_—_—_—— sess 
+
+
+K. Lew, Then, England’s messenger, return 
+in post, 
+And tell false Edward, thy supposed king, 
+That Lewis of France is sending over 
+masquers 
+To revel it with him and his new bride: 
+Thou seest what's past, go fear thy king 
+withal. 
+Bona. Tell him, in hope he'll prove a 
+widower shortly, 
+I'll wear the willow garland for his sake. 
+Q. Mar, Tell him, my mourning weeds are 
+laid aside, : 
+And I am ready to put armour on. 230 
+War, Tell him from me that he hath 
+done me wrong, 
+And therefore I'll crown him ere 't be long. 
+There 's thy reward: be gone. [Exit Post. 
+. Lew. But, Warwick, 
+Thou and Oxford, with five thousand men, 
+Shall cross the seas, and bid false Edward 
+battle; 
+And, as occasion serves, this noble queen 
+And prince shall follow with a fresh supply. 
+Yet, ere thou go, but answer me one doubt, 
+What pledge have we of thy firm loyalty? 
+War. This shall assure my constant loyalty, 
+That if our queen and this young prince agree, 
+I'll join mine eldest daughter and my joy 
+To him forthwith in holy wedlock bands. 
+Q. Mar. Yes, I agree, and thank you for 
+your motion. 
+Son Edward, she is fair and virtuous, 
+Therefore delay not, give thy hand to War- 
+wick; 
+And with thy hand, thy faith irrevocable, 
+That only Warwick's daughter shall be thine. 
+Prince. Yes, I accept her, for she well de- 
+serves it; 
+And here, to pledge my vow, | give my hand. 
+[He gives his hand to Warwich. 
+K. Lew. Why stay we now? These sol- 
+diers shall be levied, 251 
+And thou, Lord Bourbon, our high admiral, 
+Shalt waft them over with our royal fleet. 
+I long till Edward fall by war's mischance, 
+For mocking marriage with a dame of France. 
+[Exeunt all but Warwick. 
+War. | came from Edward as ambassador, 
+But I return his sworn and mortal foe: 
+Matter of marriage was the charge he gave me, 
+But dreadful war shall answer his demand. 
+Had he none else to make a stale but me? 260 
+Then none but I shall turn his jest to sorrow. 
+I was the chief that raised him to the crown, 
+And I'll be chief to bring him down again: 
+Not that I pity Henry’s misery, 
+But seek revenge on Edward's mockery. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+
+
+ACT IV. 
+
+
+Scene I. London. The palace, 
+Enter GLoucesTER, CLARENCE, SOMERSET, 
+
+
+and MontTacue. 
+
+
+Glou. Now tell me, brother Clarence, what 
+think you 
+Of this new marriage with the Lady Grey ? 
+Hath not our brother made a worthy choice? 
+Clar, Alas, you know, ‘tis far from hence 
+to France; 
+How could he stay till Warwick made return? 
+Som. My lords, forbear this talk; here 
+comes the king. 
+
+
+Glou. And his well-chosen bride. 
+
+
+Clar. I mind to tell him plainly what I 
+
+
+think, 
+
+
+Flourish. Enter Kine Epwarp, attended; 
+Lapy Grey, as Queen; PEMBROKE, STAF- 
+FORD, HastiNcs, and others. 
+
+
+K. Edw. Now, brother of Clarence, how 
+like you our choice, : 
+That you stand pensive, as half malcontent? 
+Clar. As well as Lewis of France, or the 
+Earl of Warwick, 
+ich are so weak of courage and in judge- 
+ment 
+That they ‘ll take no offence at our abuse. 
+K. Edw. Suppose they take offence with- 
+out a cause, 
+They are but*Lewis and Warwick: I am 
+Edward, 
+Your king and Warwick's, and must have 
+
+
+my will. 
+Glou. And shall have your will, because 
+our king: 
+Yet hasty marriage seldom proveth well. 
+
+K. Edw. Yea, brother Richard, are you 
+
+offended too? 
+
+Glou. Not I: 20 
+No, God forbid that I should wish them sever’d 
+Whom God hath join’d together; ay, and 
+
+‘twere pity 
+To sunder them that yoke so well together. 
+K. Edw. Setting your scorns and your 
+mislike aside, 
+Tell me some reason why the Lady Grey 
+Should not become my wife and England’s 
+queen. 
+And you too, Somerset and Montague, 
+Speak freely what you think. 
+Clar. This is mine opinion: that King 
+Lewis 
+Becomes your enemy for mocking him 30 
+About the marriage of the Lady Bona. 
+
+
+ite a 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. I] 
+
+
+Glou. And Warwick, doing what you gave 
+in charge, 
+Is now dishonoured by this new marriage. 
+K. Edw. What if both Lewis and War- 
+wick be appeased 
+By such invention as | can devise? 
+Mont. Yet, to have join’d with France in 
+such alliance 
+Would more have 
+
+
+commonwealth 
+
+
+strengthen’'d this our 
+
+
+‘Gainst foreign storms than any home-bred 
+
+
+marriage. 
+eh knows not Montague that of 
+itse 
+England is safe, if true within itself ? 40 
+Mont. But the safer when ‘tis back’d with 
+France. 
+Hast. "Tis better using France than trust- 
+ing France: 
+
+
+Let us be back’d with God and with the seas 
+
+
+; Which He hath given for fence impregnable, 
+
+
+And with their helps only defend ourselves; 
+In them and in ourselves our safety lies. 
+Clar. For this one speech Lord Hastings 
+well deserves 
+To have the heir of the Lord Hungerford. 
+K. Edw. Ay, what of that? it was my will 
+and grant; 
+And for this once my will shall stand for law. 
+Glou. And yet methinks your grace hath 
+not done well, 51 
+
+
+To give the heir and daughter of Lord Scales | 
+
+
+Unto the brother of your loving bride; 
+She better would have fitted me or Clarence: 
+But in your bride you bury brotherhood. 
+~Clar. Or else you would not have bestow’d 
+the heir 
+Of the Lord Bonville on your new wife's 
+son, 
+And leave your brothers to go speed elsewhere. 
+K. Edw. Alas, poor Clarence! is it for a 
+wife 
+That thou art malcontent? I will provide thee. 
+Clar. In choosing for yourself, you show’d 
+your judgement, 6] 
+Which being shallow, you shall give me leave 
+To play the broker in mine own behalf; 
+And to that end I shortly mind to leave you. 
+K. Edw. Leave me, or tarry, Edward will 
+be king, 
+And not be tied unto his brother's will. 
+Q. Eliz. My lords, before it pleased his 
+majesty 
+To raise my state to title of a queen, 
+Do me but right, and you must all confess 
+That I was not ignoble of descent; 
+And meaner than myself have had like for- 
+tun 
+
+
+e. 
+But as this title honours me and mine, 
+
+
+THIRD PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI 673 
+
+
+So your dislike, to whom I would be pleasing, 
+Doth cloud my joys with danger and with 
+sorrow. 
+K. Edw. My love, forbear to fawn upon 
+their frowns: 
+What danger or what sorrow can befall thee, 
+So long as Edward is thy constant friend, 
+And their true sovereign, whom they must 
+obey ? 
+Nay, whom they shall obey, and love thee teo, 
+Unless they seek for hatred at my hands; 
+Which if they do, yet will I keep thee safe, 
+And they shall feel the vengeance of my 
+wrath. 
+Glou. I hear, yet say not much, but think 
+the more. [Aside. 
+
+
+Enter a Post. 
+
+
+K. Edw. Now, messenger, what letters or 
+what news 
+From France? 
+Post. My sovereign liege, no letters; and 
+few words, 
+But such as I, without your special pardon, 
+Dare not relate. 
+K.Edw. Go to, we pardon thee: there- 
+fore, in brief 
+Tell me their words as near as thou canst 
+guess them. 90 
+What answer makes King Lewis unto our 
+letters? 
+Post. At my depart, these were his very 
+words: 
+‘Go tell false Edward, thy supposed king, 
+That Lewis of France is sending over 
+masquers 
+To revel it with him and his new bride.” 
+K. Edw. Is Lewis so brave? belike he 
+thinks me Henry. 
+But what ‘said Lady Bona to my marriage? 
+Post. These were her words, utter’d with 
+mild disdain: 
+‘Tell him, I hope he'll prove a widower 
+shortly, 
+I'll wear the willow garland for his sake.’ 100 
+K. Edw. 1 blame not her, she could say 
+little less; 
+She had the wrong. 
+ueen ? 
+For I have heard that she was there in place. 
+Post. ‘Tell him,’ quoth she, ‘my mourning 
+weeds are done, 
+And I am ready to put armour on.’ 
+K. Edw. Belike she minds to play the 
+Amazon. 
+But what said Warwick to these injuries? _ 
+Post. He more incensed against your maz 
+jesty 
+
+
+But what said Henry's 
+
+
+674 THIRD PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI __[Acr IV, Sc. II 
+
+
+Than all the rest, discharged me with these 
+words; 109 
+“Tell him from me that he hath done me wrong, 
+And therefore I'll uncrown him ere 't be long.’ 
+K. Edw. Ha! durst the traitor breathe out 
+so proud words? 
+Well, I will arm me, being thus forewarn'’d: 
+They shall have wars and pay for their pre- 
+sumption. 
+But say, is Warwick friends with Margaret? 
+Post. Ay, gracious sovereign; they are .so 
+link’d in friendship, 
+That young Prince Edward marries War- 
+wick’s daughter. 
+Clar, Belike the elder; Clarence will have 
+the younger. 
+Now, brother king, farewell, and sit you fast, 
+For I will hence to Warwick’s other daughter; 
+That, though I want a kingdom, yet in mar- 
+riage 
+[ may not prove inferior to yourself, 
+You that love me and Warwick, follow. me. 
+[Exit Clarence; and. Somerset follows. 
+Glou. [Aside] Not I: 
+My thoughts aim at a further matter; I 
+Stay not for the love of Edward, but the 
+crown. 
+K. Edw. Clarence and Somerset both gone 
+to. Warwick! 
+Yet am I arm'd against the worst can happen; 
+And haste is needful in this desperate case. 
+Pembroke and Stafford, you in our behalf 130 
+Go levy men, and make prepare for war; 
+They are already, or quickly will be landed: 
+Myself in person will straight follow you. 
+[Exeunt Pembroke and Stafford. 
+But, ere I go, Hastings and Montague, 
+Resolve my doubt. You twain, of all the rest. 
+Are near to Warwick by: blood and by al- 
+liance: 
+Tell me if you love Warwick more than me? 
+If it be so, then both depart to him; 
+I rather wish you foes than hollow friends: 
+But if you mind to hold your true obedience, 
+Give me assurance with some friendly vow, 
+That I may never have you in suspect, 
+Mont. So God help Montague as he proves 
+true! 
+Hast. And Hastings as he favours Ed- 
+ward's cause! 
+K, Edw. Now, brother Richard, will you 
+stand by us? 
+Glou. Ay, in despite of all that shall with- 
+stand you. 
+K. Edw. Why, so! then am I sure of vic- 
+tory. 
+Now therefore let us hence; and lose no hour, 
+Till we meet Warwick with his foreign power 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene Il. A plain in. Warwickshire, 
+
+
+Enter Warwick and Oxrorp, with French 
+soldiers, 
+
+
+War. Trust me, my lord, all hitherto goes 
+well; 
+The common people by numbers swarm to us, 
+
+
+Enter CLARENCE and SOMERSET. 
+
+
+But see where Somerset and Clarence comes! 
+Speak suddenly, my lords, are we all friends? 
+Clar. ‘Fear not that, my lord. 
+War. Then, gentle Clarence, welcome 
+unto Warwick; 
+And welcome, Somerset: I hold it cowardice 
+To rest mistrustful where a noble heart 
+Hath pawn'd an open hand in sign of love; 
+Else might I think that Clarence, Edward's 
+brother, 10 
+Were but a feigned friend to our proceed- 
+ings: 
+But welcome, sweet Clarence; my daughter 
+shall be thine, 
+And now what rests but, in night's coverture, 
+Thy brother being carelessly encamp’d, 
+His soldiers lurking in the towns about, 
+And but attended by a simple guard, 
+e€ may surprise and take him at our pleasure > 
+Our scouts have found the adventure very easy: 
+That as Ulysses and stout Diomede 
+With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus’ 
+20 
+
+
+tents, 
+
+And brought from thence the Thracian fatal 
+steeds, “ 
+
+So we, well. cover'd with the night's’ black 
+mantle, 
+
+
+At unawares may beat down Edward’s guard - 
+
+
+And seize himself;, | say not, slaughtering 
+
+
+im, 
+For I intend but only to surprise him. 
+You that will follow me to this attempt, 
+Applaud the name of Henry with your leader. 
+[They all cry, ‘Henry!’ 
+Why, then, let’s on our way in’ silent sort: 
+For Warwick and his friends, God and Saint 
+George! [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. Edward's camp, near Warwick. 
+
+
+Enter three Watchmen, to guard the Kinc’s 
+tent, 
+
+
+First Watch, Come on, my masters, each 
+man take his stand: 
+
+The king by this is set him down to sleep. 
+Second Watch. What, will he not to bed? 
+First Watch.. Why, no; for he hath made 
+
+a solemn vow 
+Never to lie and take his natural rest 
+Till Warwick or himself be quite suppress’d. 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+Des IV, Sc. IV]. THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+675 
+
+
+4 : 
+\ Second Watch. To-morrow then belike 
+shall be the day, 
+If Warwick be so near as men report. 
+' Third Watch. But say, I pray, what 
+nobleman is that 
+That with the king here resteth in his tent?10 
+First Watch. ‘Tis the Lord Hastings, the 
+king's chiefest friend. 
+Third Watch. O, is it so? 
+mands the king 
+_ That his chief followers lodge in towns about 
+
+
+But why. com- 
+
+
+4 him, 
+While he himself keeps in the cold field? 
+Second Watch. "Tis the more honour, be- 
+cause more dangerous. 
+Third Watch. Ay, but give me worship 
+f and quietness; 
+I like it better than a dangerous honour. 
+If Warwick knew in what estate he stands, 
+‘Tis to be doubted he would waken him. 
+_~ First Watch. Unless our halberds did shut 
+; up his passage. 20 
+Second Watch. Ay, wherefore else guard 
+fi we his royal tent, 
+But to defend his person from night-foes? 
+
+
+- Enter WaRWICK, CLARENCE, OxForD, SOMER- 
+sET, and French soldiers, silent all. 
+
+
+War. This is his tent; and see where 
+stand his guard. 
+
+Courage, my masters! honour now or never! 
+
+But follow me, and Edward shall be ours. 
+First Watch. Who goes there? 
+
+Second Watch. Stay, or thou diest! 
+
+_ [Warwick and the rest cry all, “War- 
+wick! Warwick!’ and set upon the 
+Guard, who fly, crying, ‘Arm! arm!’ 
+Warwick and the rest following 
+them. 
+
+The drum playing and trumpet sounding, re- 
+enter WARWICK, SOMERSET, and the rest, 
+bringing the Kinc out in his gown, sitting 
+in a chair, RicHarD and Hastincs fly 
+over the stage. 
+
+Som. What are they that fly there? 
+
+War. Richard and Hastings: let them go; 
+
+here is . 
+
+The duke. 
+
+K. Edw. The duke! 
+
+when we parted, 
+
+Thou call’dst me king. 
+War. Ay, but the case is alter’d: 
+
+When You disgraced me in my embassade, 
+
+Then I degraded you from: being king, 
+
+And come now to create you Duke of York. 
+
+Alas! how should you govern any kingdom, 
+
+That know not how to use ambassadors, 
+
+Nor how to be contented ’with one wife, 
+
+Nor how to use your brothers brotherly, 
+
+
+Why, Warwick, 
+30 
+
+
+Nor how to study for the people’s, welfare, . 
+or how to shroud yourself from enemies 240 
+K. Edw. Yea, brother :of Clarence, art 
+
+thou here too? 
+
+Nay, then I see that Edward needs must down. 
+
+Yet, Warwick, in despite of all mischance, 
+
+Of thee thyself and all thy complices, 
+
+Edward will always bear himself as king: 
+
+Though fortune’s malice overthrow my state, 
+
+My mind exceeds the compass of her wheel. 
+War. Then, for his mind, be Edward Eng- 
+
+land's king: [Takes off his crown. 
+
+But Henry now shall wear the English crown, 
+
+And be true king indeed, thou but the shadow. 
+
+My Lord of Somerset, at my request, 51 
+
+See that forthwith Duke Edward be convey d 
+
+Unto my brother, Archbishop of York. 
+
+When I have fought with Pembroke. and his 
+
+fellows, f 
+
+I'll follow you, and tell what answer 
+
+Lewis and the Lady Bona send to him. 
+
+Now, for a while farewell, good Duke of 
+
+York. [They lead him out forcibly. 
+K. Edw. What fates impose, that men must 
+needs abide; 
+
+It boots not to resist both wind and tide. 
+
+[Exit, guarded. 
+Oxf. What now remains, my lords,, for us 
+to do 60 
+
+But march to London with our soldiers? 
+War. Ay, that’s the first thing that we 
+
+have to do; 
+
+To free King Henry ftom iniprisonment 
+
+And see him seated in the regal throne. 
+
+i [Exeuri. 
+
+
+Scene IV. London. The palace. 
+Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH and RIVERs. 
+
+
+Riv, Madam, what makes you in this sud- 
+den change? 
+
+
+Q. Eliz. Why, brother Rivers, are you yet 
+
+
+to learn : 
+What late misfortune is befall’n King Ed- 
+ward? 
+Riv. What! loss of some pitch’d battle 
+
+
+against Warwick ? 
+Q. Eliz. No, but the loss of his own royal 
+person. 
+Riv. Then is my sovereign slain? 
+Q. Eliz. Ay, almost slain, for he is taken 
+prisoner, 
+Either betray’d by falsehood of his guard 
+Or by his foe surprised at unawares: 
+And, as I further have to understand, 
+Is new committed to the Bishop of; York, 
+Fell Warwick's brother and by that our foe. 
+Riv. These news I must confess are ful} of 
+grief; Sag 
+Yet, gracious madam, bear it as you: may: 
+
+
+0 
+
+
+676 
+
+
+THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+‘ [Act IV, Sc. VI 
+
+
+‘Warwick may lose, that now hath won the day. 
+“ Q. Eliz: Till then fair hope must hinder 
+life’s decay. 
+And I the rather wean me from despair 
+For love of Edward’s offspring in my womb: 
+This is it that makes me bridle passion 
+And bear with mildness my misfortune’s cross; 
+Ay, ay, for this I draw in many a tear 21 
+And stop the rising of blood-sucking sighs, 
+Lest with my sighs or tears I blast or drown 
+Kimg Edward's fruit, true heir to the English 
+
+
+crown, 
+
+Riv. But; madam, where is Warwick’ then 
+become > i) 
+
+“Q. Eliz. I am inform'd that he comes 
+
+
+toward London, 
+
+To set the crown once more on Henry’s head: 
+
+Guess thou the rest; King Edward's friends 
+must down, 
+
+But, to prevent the tyrant’s violence,— 
+
+For wrust not him that hath once broken 
+faith,— ! 30 
+
+i‘{l hence forthwith unto the sanctuary, 
+
+To save at least the heir of Edward's right: 
+
+There shall I rest secure from force and 
+fraud. 
+
+(Come, therefore, let us fly while we may fly: 
+
+‘if Warwick take us we are sure to die. 
+
+“K [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene V.- A park near Middleham Castle 
+in Yorkshire. 
+Enter GroucesterR, Lorp Hastincs, and 
+‘Sin Wirziam STANLEY. 
+Glou.. Now, my Lord ‘Hastings and Sir 
+Wiliam Stanley, _ 
+Leave off to wonder why I drew you hither, 
+{nto this chiefest thicket of the park. 
+‘Thus stands the case: you know our king, my 
+brother, 
+{is prisoner to the bishop here, at whose hands 
+He hath good usage and great liberty, 
+And, often but attended with weak guard, 
+Comes hunting this way to disport himself. 
+{ have advertised himby secret means 
+That if about this hour he make this way 10 
+Under the colour of his usual game. 
+He shall here find his friends with horse and 
+men 
+‘To set him free from his captivity. 
+
+
+Enter Kinc Epwarp.and a Huntsman 
+with him. 
+
+
+Hunt. This way, my lord; for this way 
+lies the game. °° ©’ 
+
+K,. Edw. Nay, this way, mans see where 
+the’ huntsmen stand. « \ 
+
+
+Stand you thus close, to steal the bishop’s deer ? 
+Glou. Brother, the time and case re- 
+
+quireth haste: 
+
+Your horse stands ready at the park-corner, 
+K. Edw. But whither shall we then? 
+Hast. To Lynn, my lord, 20 
+
+And ship from thence to Flanders. 
+
+Glou. Well guess’d, believe me; for that 
+was my meaning. 
+
+K, Edw. Stanley, I will requite thy for- 
+wardness. 
+
+Glou. But wherefore stay we? ‘tis no time 
+to talk. 
+
+K. Edw. Huntsman, what say’st thou? wilt 
+thou go along? 
+
+Hunt. Better do so than tarry and be 
+hang'd. 
+
+
+Glou. Come then, away; let's ha’ no more 
+
+
+ado. 
+K. Edy. Bishop, farewell: shield thee 
+from Warwick's frown; 
+And pray that I may repossess the crown. 
+
+
+[Exeunt. 
+Scene VI. London. The Tower. 
+Flourish. Enter Kinc Henry, CLARENCE, 
+
+
+Warwick, SOMERSET, young RicHmonp, 
+Oxrorp, MontacuE, and Lieutenant of 
+the Tower. 
+
+
+K. Hen. Master lieutenant, now that God 
+and friends 
+Have shaken Edward from the regal seat, 
+And turn’d my captive state to liberty, 
+My fear to hope, my sorrows unto joys, 
+At our enlargement what are thy due fees? 
+Lieu. Subjects may challenge nothing of 
+their sovereigns; 
+But if an humble prayer may prevail, 
+I then crave pardon of your majesty. 
+
+
+K. Hen. For what, lieutenant? for well 
+
+using me> 9 
+
+Nay, be thou sure I "Il well requite thy kind- 
+ness, 
+
+
+For that it made my imprisonment a pleasure; 
+Ay, such a pleasure as incaged birds 
+Conceive when after many moody thoughts 
+At last by notes of household harmony 
+They quite forget their loss of liberty. , 
+But, Warwick, after God, thou set’st me free, 
+And chiefly therefore I thank God and thee; 
+He was the author, thou the instrument, 
+Therefore, that I may conquer fortune’s spite 
+By. living low, where fortune cannot hurt me, 
+And that the people of this blessed land 21 
+May not be punish’d with my thwarting stars, 
+Warwick, although my head still wear the 
+crown, ; 
+
+
+Now, brother of Gloucester, Lord Hastings, | I here resign my government to thee, 
+
+
+and the rest, 
+
+
+‘\ For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds. 
+
+
+ss 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. VII] THIRD PART OF 
+
+
+“| 7 
+
+
+4 677 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI i 
+My we) 
+
+
+War. Your grace hath still been famed for 
+virtuous; 
+And now may seem as wise as virtuous, 
+By spying and avoiding fortune’s malice, 
+For few men rightly temper with the stars: 
+Yet in this one thing let me blame your grace, 
+For choosing me when Clarence is in place.31 
+- Clar. No, Warwick, thou art worthy of the 
+sway, 
+To whom the heavens in thy nativity 
+Adjudged an olive branch and laurel crown, 
+As likely to be blest in peace and war; 
+And therefore I yield thee my free consent. 
+War. And I choose Clarence only for 
+protector. 
+en. Warwick and Clarence, give me 
+Dell your hands: 
+Now join your hands, and with your hands 
+your hearts, 
+
+That no dissension hinder government: 40 
+1 make you both protectors of this land, 
+While I myself will lead a private life 
+And in devotion spend my latter days, 
+
+To sin’s rebuke and my Creator’s praise. 
+
+War. What answers Clarence to his sove- 
+
+reign’s will? 
+
+Clar. That he consents, if Warwick yield 
+
+consent; 
+For on thy fortune I repose myself. 
+
+War. Why, then, though loath, yet must I 
+
+be content: 
+We 'll yoke together, like a double shadow 
+To Henry's body, and supply his place; 
+| mean, in bearing weight of government, 
+While he enjoys the honour and his ease. 
+And, Clarence, now then it is more than 
+needful 
+Forthwith that Edward be pronounced a 
+traitor, 
+And all his lands and goods be confiscate. 
+
+Clar. What else? and that succession be 
+
+determined. 
+
+War. Ay, therein Clarence shall not want 
+
+his part. 
+
+K. Hen. But, with the first of all your 
+
+chief affairs, 
+Let me entreat, for I command no more, 59 
+That Margaret your queen and my son Ed- 
+ward 
+Be sent for, to return from France with speed; 
+For, till I see them here, by doubtful fear 
+My joy, of liberty is half eclipsed. 
+
+Clar. It shall be done, my sovereign, with 
+
+all speed. 
+
+- K. Hen. My Lord of Somerset, what youth 
+
+is that, 
+Of whom you seem to have so oe care? 
+
+Som. My liege, it is young Henry, earl of 
+
+Richmond, 
+
+
+50 
+
+
+K. Hen. Come hither, England's hope: 
+[Lays his hand-on his head] If secret powers 
+Suggest but truth to my divining thoughts, 
+This pretty lad will prove our country’s bliss. 
+His looks are full of peaceful majesty, 7i 
+His head by nature framed to wear a crewn, 
+His hand to wield a sceptre, and himself 
+Likely in time to bless a regal throne. 
+
+Make much of him, my lords, for this is he 
+
+
+Must help you moresthan you are hurt by me. 
+
+
+Enter a Post, 
+
+
+War, What news,.my friend? 
+Post. That Edward is escaped from oN 
+brother, 
+And fled, as he hears since, to Burgundy. 
+War. Unsavoury news! but how made he 
+escape ? 
+Post. He was convey'd by Richard Duke 
+of Gloucester 
+And the Lord Hastings, who attended him 
+In secret ambush on the forest side 
+And from the bishop’s huntsmen rescued esis 
+For hunting was his daily exercise. 
+War. My brother was too careless of a 
+charge. 
+But let us hence, my sovereign, to provide 
+A salve for any sore that may betide. . 
+[Exeunt all but Somerset, Richmead, 
+‘and Oxford. 
+Som. My lord, I like not of this flight of 
+Edward's; 
+For doubtless Burgundy will yield, him help, 
+And we shall have ‘moté wars before 't be 
+long. 
+As Henry’s late presaging prophecy 
+Did glad my heart with hope of this young 
+Richmond, 
+So doth my heart misgive me, in these con- 
+flicts 
+What may befall him, to his harm and ours: 
+Therefore, Lord Oxford, to prevent the worst, 
+Forthwith we'll send him hence to Brittany, 
+Till storms be past of civil enmity. 
+Oxf. Ay, for if Edward repossess the 
+crown 
+‘Tis like that Richmond with the rest shal! 
+own | ). 
+Som. It shall be so; he shall. to. Britanny,; 
+Come, therefore, let's about it speedily. 
+{Exeuni. 
+
+
+Scene VII. Before York. 
+
+
+Flourish. Enter Kinc Epwarp, GLOUCESTER, 
+Hastinecs, and Soldiers. 
+K.Edw. Now, brother Richard, Lord 
+Hastings, and the rest, 
+Yet thus far fortune maketh us amends, 
+And says that once more I shall interchange © 
+
+
+678 
+
+
+My waned state for Henry's regal crown. 
+Well have we pass'd and now repass'd the 
+seas 
+And brought desired help from Burgundy: 
+What then remains, we being thus arrived 
+From Ravenspurgh haven before the gates of 
+ork, 
+But that we enter, as into our dukedom? 
+Glou. The gates made fast! Brother, I 
+like not this; 10 
+’ (For many men that stumble at the threshold 
+"Are well foretold that danger lurks within. 
+K. Edw. Tush, man, abodements must not 
+now affright us: 
+By fair or foul means we must enter in, 
+For hither will our friends repair to us. 
+Hast, My liege, I'll knock once more to 
+summon them. 
+
+
+Pater on the walls, the Mayor of York, and 
+his brethren. 
+
+
+May. My lords, we were forewarned of 
+' your coming, 
+And shut the gates for safety of ourselves; 
+or Now we owe allegiance unto Henry. 
+K. Edw. But, master mayor, if Henry be 
+your king, Dyas, 
+Yet Edward at the least is Duke of York. 
+May. True, my good lord; I know you 
+for no less. 
+K. Edw. Why, and I challenge nothing 
+but my dukedom, 
+As: being well content with that alone. 
+Glou. [Aside] But when the fox hath once 
+got in his nose, 
+He'll soon find means to make the body fol- 
+~ Tow. 
+Hast. Why, master mayor, why stand you 
+in a doubt? 
+Open the gates; we are King Henry’s friends. 
+May. Ay. say you so? the gates shall then 
+be open’d. [They descend. 
+Glou. A wise stout captain, and soon per- 
+suaded! 30 
+Hast. The good old man would fain that 
+all were well, 
+Se. "“twere not ‘long of him; but being enter'd, 
+P’doubt not, I, but we shall soon persuade 
+Both him and all his brothers unto reason. 
+
+
+Enter the Mayor and two Aldermen, below. 
+
+
+K. Edw. So, master mayor: these gates 
+must ‘not be’ shut 
+But in the night or in the time of war. 
+Wriat! fear riot, man, but yield me up the 
+keys; [Takes his keys. 
+For ‘Edward will defend the town and thee, 
+And all) those friends that deign to follow me. 
+
+
+THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI __ [Act IV, Sc. VII 
+
+
+‘March. Enter Montcomery, with drum 
+and soldiers. - 
+Glou. Brother, this is Sir John Montgoni- 
+ery, 
+Our trusty friend, unless I be deceived. 41 
+K. Edw. Welcome, Sir John! But why 
+come you in arms? 
+Mont. To help King Edward in his time 
+of storm, , 
+As every loyal subject ought to do. 
+K. Edw. Thanks, good Montgomery; but 
+we. now forget 
+Our title to the crown and only claim 
+Our dukedom till God please to send the rest. 
+Mont. Then fare you well, for I will 
+hence again: 
+I came to serve a king and not a duke. 
+Drummer, strike up, and let us march away. 
+[The drum begins to march, 
+K. Edw. Nay, stay, Sir John, awhile, and 
+we'll debate 
+By what safe means the crown may be re- 
+
+
+cover'd, 
+Mont. What talk you of debating? in few 
+words, ‘ 
+If you "ll not here proclaim yourself our king, 
+I'll leave you to your fortune and be gone 
+To keep them back that come to succour 
+you: 
+
+
+Why shall we fight, if you pretend no title? 
+Glou. Why, brother, wherefore stand you 
+on nice points > 
+K,. Edw. When we grow stronger, then 
+we ‘Il make our claim: 
+
+Till then, ‘tis wisdom to conceal our meaning, 
+
+Hast. Away with scrupulous wit! now 
+arms must rule. 
+
+Glou. 
+unto crowns, 
+
+Brother, we will proclaim you out of hand; 
+
+The bruit thereof will bring you many friends. 
+
+K. Edw. Then be it as you will; for ‘tis 
+my right, 
+
+And Henry but usurps the diadem. 
+
+Mont. Ay, now my sovereign speaketh like 
+himself; 
+
+And now will I be Edward’s champion. - 
+ast. Sound trumpet; Edward shall be 
+here proclaim'd: 69 
+
+Come, fellow-soldier, make thou proclamation. 
+
+[Flourish. 
+Sold. Edward the Fourth, by the grace of 
+
+God, king of England and France, and lord of 
+
+Ireland, &c. 
+
+Mont. And whosoe’er gainsays King Ed- 
+ward's right, 
+
+By this-I challenge him to single fight. ~ 
+
+[Throws down his gauntlet, 
+All. Long live Edward the Fourth! 
+
+
+And fearless minds ‘climb. soonest 
+
+
+K. Edw. Thanks, brave Montgomery; and 
+
+thanks unto you all: 
+
+If fortune serve me, I'll requite this kindness. 
+
+Now, for this night, let ’s harbour here in York; 
+
+And when the morning sun shall raise his car 
+
+Above the border of this horizon, 81 
+
+We'll forward towards Warwick and his 
+mates; 
+
+For well I wot that Henry is no soldier. 
+
+Ah, froward Clarence! how evil it beseems 
+thee, 
+
+To flatter Henry and forsake thy brother! 
+
+Yet, as we may, we'll meet both thee and 
+
+~ Warwick. 
+
+Come on, brave soldiers: doubt not of the day, 
+
+And, that once gotten, doubt not of large pay. 
+
+
+[Exeunt. 
+Scene VIII. London. The palace. 
+Flourish, Enter Kinc Henry, Warwick, 
+MontacuE, CLARENCE, EXETER, and 
+Oxrorp. 
+War. What counsel, lords? Edward from 
+Belgia, 
+
+
+With hasty Germans and blunt Hollanders, 
+Hath pass’d in safety through the narrow seas, 
+And with his troops doth march amain to 
+London; 
+And many giddy people flock to him. 
+K. Hen. Let’s levy men, and beat him 
+back again. 
+Clar. A little fire is quickly trodden out; 
+Which, being suffer’d, rivers cannot quench. 
+War. In Warwickshire I have true-hearted 
+friends, 
+Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in war; 10 
+Those will I muster up; and thou, son Clar- 
+
+
+ence, 
+Shall stir up in Suffolk, Norfolk and in Kent, 
+The knights and gentlemen to’ come with thee: 
+Thou, brother Montague, in Buckingham, 
+Northampton and in’ Leicestershire, shalt find 
+Men well inclined to hear what thou com- 
+mand'st: 
+And thou, brave Oxford, wondrous well be- 
+loved, j 
+In Oxfordshire shalt muster up thy friends. 
+My sovereign, with the loving citizens, 
+Like to his island girt in with the ocean, 20 
+Or modest Dian circled with her nymphs, 
+Shall ¥est in London till we come to him. 
+Fair lords, take leave and stand not to reply. 
+Farewell, my sovereign. 
+K. Hen. 
+Troy’s true hope. 
+Clar; In sign of truth, I kiss your highness’ 
+‘hand. 
+
+
+679 
+
+
+Mont. Comfort, my lord; and so I take 
+
+
+my leave. 
+
+Oxf. And thus I seal my tmth, and bid 
+adieu. 
+
+K. Hen. Sweet Oxford, and my loving 
+Montague, 30 
+
+
+And all at once, once more a hapry farewell. 
+War. Farewell, sweet lords: le,’s meet at 
+Coventry. 
+[Exeunt all but King and Exeter. 
+K. Hen. Here at the palace wsll I rest 
+awhile. 
+Cousin of Exeter, what thinks your lordship? 
+Ls the power that Edward heth in 
+eld 
+Should not be able to encounter mine. 
+Exe. The doubt is that he will seduce the 
+rest, 
+K.Hen. That’s not my fear; my meed 
+hath got me fame: 
+I have not stopp’d mine ears to their demands, 
+Nor posted off their suits with slow delays; 40 
+My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds, 
+My mildness hath allay'’d their swelling griefs, 
+My mercy dried their water-flowing tears; 
+I have not been desirous of their wealth, 
+Nor much oppress’d them with great subsidies, 
+Nor forward of revenge, though they mucn 
+
+
+err'd: 
+Then why should they love Edward more than 
+me? 
+No, Exeter, these graces challenge grace: 
+And when the lion fawns upon the lamb, 
+The lamb will never cease to follow him. 50 
+[Shout within, “A Lancaster! A Lancaster!’ 
+Exe. Hark, hark, my lord! what shouts are 
+these > 
+Enter Kine Epwarp, GLoucestEer, and 
+soldiers. 
+K. Edw. Seize on the shame-faced Henry, 
+bear him hence; 
+And once again proclaim us king of England. 
+You are the fount that makes small brooks to 
+flow: © 
+Now stops thy spring; my sea shall: suck 
+them dry, 
+And swell so much the higher by their ebb. 
+Hence with him to the Tower; let him not 
+speak. [Exeunt some with King Henry. 
+And, lords, towards Coventry bend we our 
+course, 
+Where peremptory Warwick now remains: 
+The sun shines hot; and, if we use delay, 60 
+
+
+Farewell, my Hector, and my | Cold biting winter mars our hoped-for hay. 
+
+
+Glou. Away betimes, before his forces 
+join, 
+
+
+And take the great-grown traitor unawares: 
+
+
+“°K. Hen: Well-minded Clarence, be thou} Brave warriors, march amain towards Coven- 
+
+
+fortunate! 
+
+
+try. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+THIRD PART OF 
+
+
+ACT V. 
+
+
+Enter Warwick, the Mayor of Coventry, two 
+Messengers, and others upon the walls. 
+
+
+War. Where is the post that came from 
+valiant Oxford? 
+How far hence is thy lord, mine honest fellow ? 
+First Mess. By this at Dunsmore, march- 
+ing hitherward. 
+War. How far off is our brother Monta- 
+gue? 
+Where is the post that came from Montague? 
+Second Mess. By this at Daintry, with a 
+puissant troop. 
+
+
+Enter Sir JoHN SoMERVILLE. 
+
+
+War. Say, Somerville, what says my loy- 
+ing son? 
+
+And, by thy guess, how nigh is Clarence now? 
+
+Som. At Southam I did leave him with 
+his forces, 
+
+And do expect him here some two hours hence. 
+
+{Drum heard. 
+
+War. Then Clarence is at hand; I hear 
+
+
+his drum, II 
+Som. It is not his, my lord; here Southam 
+lies: 
+
+
+‘The drum your honour hears marcheth from 
+Warwick. 
+War. Who should that be? belike, un- 
+look'd-for friends. 
+Som. They are at hand, and you shall 
+quickly know. 
+
+
+March: flourish. Enter Kinc Epwarp, 
+GLoucEsTER, and soldiers. 
+
+
+K. Edw. Go, trumpet, to the walls, and 
+sound a parle. 
+Glou. See how the surly Warwick mans the 
+wall! 
+War, O unbid spite! is sportful Edward 
+come > 
+‘Where slept our scouts, or how are they 
+seduced, 
+That we could hear no news of his repair? 20 
+K. Edw. Now, Warwick, wilt thou ope the 
+city gates? 
+Speak gentle words and humbly bend thy 
+
+
+knee, 
+
+
+Call Edward king and at his hands beg ; 
+
+
+mercy > 
+
+And he shall pardon thee: these outrages. 
+
+War. Nay, rather, wilt thou draw .thy 
+
+forces hence, 
+
+‘Confess who set up thee and pluck'd 
+down, 
+
+Call Warwick patron and be penitent? 
+
+And thou shalt still remain the Duke of York. 
+
+
+thee 
+
+
+- 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI [Act V, Sc. 1 
+
+
+Glou. I thought, at least, he would have 
+said the king; 
+
+Or did he make the jest against his will? 30 
+War. Is not a dukedom, sir, a goodly gift? 
+Glou, Ay, by my faith, for a poor ear] to 
+
+give: 
+
+I'll do thee service for so good a gift. 
+
+War. "Twas | that gave the kingdom to 
+thy brother. 
+
+K. Edw. Why then ‘tis mine, if but by 
+Warwick's gift. 
+
+War. Thou art not Atlas for so great a 
+weight: 
+
+And, weakling, Warwick takes his gift again; 
+
+And Henry is my king, Warwick his subject. 
+
+
+K. Edw. But Warwick's king is Edward's 
+
+
+prisoner: 
+And, gallant Warwick, do but answer this: 40 
+What is the body when the head is off 2 
+Glou. Alas, that Warwick had no more 
+forecast, 
+But, whiles he thought to steal the single ten, 
+The king was slily finger’'d from the deck! 
+You left poor Henry at the Bishop's palace, 
+And, ten to one, you'll meet him in the 
+Tower. 
+K. Edw. ‘Tis even so; yet you are War- 
+wick still. = 
+Glou. Come, Warwick, take the time; kneel 
+down, kneel down: 
+Nay, when? strike now, or else the iron cools. 
+War. 1 had rather chop this hand off at a 
+blow, 50 
+And with the other fling it at thy face, 
+Than bear so low a sail, to strike to thee. 
+K. Edw. Sail how thou canst, have wind 
+and tide thy friend, 
+This hand, fast wound about thy coal-black 
+
+
+hair, 
+Shall, whiles thy head is warm and new cut 
+
+
+on, 
+Write in the dust this sentence with thy blood, 
+*Wind-changing Warwick now can change no 
+more, 
+
+
+Enter Oxrorp, with drum and colours. 
+
+
+War. O cheerful colours! see where Ox- 
+ford comes! 
+Oxf. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster! 
+[He and his forces enter the city. 
+Glou. The gates are open, let us enter too. 
+K. Edw. So other foes may set upon our 
+backs. 61 
+Stand we in good array: for they no doubt 
+Will issue out again and bid us battle: 
+If not, the city being but of small defence, 
+We'll quickly rouse the traitors in the same. 
+War. O, welcome, Oxford! for we want 
+thy help. 
+
+
+Acr V, Sc. Il] 
+
+
+THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+68) 
+
+
+rs 
+
+
+Enter MontTacuE, with drum and colours. 
+
+
+Mont, Montague, Montague, for Lancaster! 
+
+[He and his forces enter the city. 
+
+Glou. Thou and thy brother both shall buy 
+this treason 
+
+Even with the dearest blood your bodies bear. 
+
+K. Edw. The harder match'd, the greater 
+
+victory: 70 
+
+My mind presageth happy gain and conquest. 
+
+
+Enter SoMERSET, with drum and colours. - 
+
+
+Som. Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster! 
+[He and his forces enter the city. 
+Glou. Two of thy name, both Dukes of 
+Somerset, 
+Have sold their lives unto the house of York; 
+
+
+And thou shalt be the third, if this sword hold. 
+Enter CLARENCE, with drum and colours. 
+War. And lo, where George of Clarence 
+
+
+sweeps along, 
+Of force enough to bid his brother battle; 
+With whom an upright zeal to right prevails 
+More than the nature of a brother's love! 
+Come, Clarence, come; thou wilt, if Warwick 
+
+
+call. 
+Clar. Father of Warwick, know you what 
+this means? 
+[Taking his red rose out of his hat. 
+Look here, I throw my infamy at thee: 
+I will not ruinate my father’s house, 
+Who gave his blood to lime the stones to- 
+gether, 
+And set up Lancaster. 
+~ Warwick, 
+That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt, unnatural, 
+To bend the fatal instruments of war 
+Against his brother and his lawful king? 
+Perhaps thou wilt object my holy oath: 
+To keep that oath were more impiety 90 
+Than Jephthah’s, when he sacrificed his daugh- 
+ter. i 
+I am so sorry for my trespass made 
+That, to deserve well at my brother's hands, 
+Uhere proclaim myself thy mortal foe, 
+With resolution, wheresoe’er I meet thee— - 
+As I will meet thee, if thou stir abroad— 
+To plague thee for thy foul misleading me. 
+And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defy thee, 
+And to my brother turn my blushing cheeks. 
+Pardon me, Edward, I will make amends: 100 
+And, Richard, do not frown upon my faults, 
+For I will henceforth be no more unconstant. 
+K. Edw. Now welcome more, and ten times 
+more beloved, 
+Than if thou never hadst deserved our hate. 
+Glou. Welcome, good Clarence; this is 
+brother-like. 
+
+
+Why, trow’st thou, 
+
+
+War. O passing traitor, perjured and un- 
+just! 
+K. Edw, What, Warwick, wilt thou leave 
+the town and fight? 
+Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears? 
+War. Alas, I am not coop'd here for de- 
+fence! 
+I will away towards Barnet presently, 110 
+And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou darest. 
+K. Edw. Yes, Warwick, Edward dares 
+and leads the way. 
+Lords, to the field; Saint George and victory! 
+[Exeunt King Edward and his company, 
+March. Warwick and his company 
+follow. 
+
+
+Scene Il. A field of battle near Barnet. 
+
+
+Alarum and excursions. Enter Kinc 
+Epwarp, bringing forth WaRwicK wounded, 
+
+
+K. Edw. So, lie thou there: die thou, and 
+die our fear; 
+For Warwick was a bug that fear'd us all. 
+Now, Montague, sit fast; I seek for thee, 
+That Warwick's bones may keep thine com- 
+[Exit. 
+friend 
+
+
+u 
+
+
+y. 
+War. Ah, who is nigh? come to me, 
+or foe, 
+And tell me who is victor, York or Warwick? 
+Why ask that? my mangled body shows, 
+My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart 
+shows, 
+That I must yield my body to the earth 
+And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe. 10 
+Thus yields the cedar to the axe’s edge, 
+Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle, 
+Under whose shade the ramping lion slept, 
+Whose top-branch overpeer’d Jove’s spreading 
+
+
+tree 
+And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful 
+wind, 
+These eyes, that now are dimm’d with death's 
+black veil, 
+Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun, 
+To search the secret treasons of the world: 
+The wrinkles in my brows, now Ail'’d with 
+blood, 
+Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres; 20 
+For who lived king, but I could dig his grave? 
+And who durst smile when Warwick bent his 
+row > 
+Lo, now my glory smear'd in dust and blood! 
+y parks, my walls, my manors that I had, 
+Even forsake me, and of all my lands 
+Is nothing left me but. my body's length. 
+Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and 
+dust? 
+And, live we how we can, yet die we must. 
+
+
+Enter Oxrorp and SOMERSET. 
+
+
+682 
+
+
+THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. IV 
+
+
+Som. Ah, Warwick, Warwick! wert thou 
+as We are, 
+
+We might recover all our loss again: 30 
+
+The queen from France hath brought a puis- 
+
+
+sant power: 
+Even now we heard the news; ah, couldst 
+thou fly! 
+War. Why, then I would not fly. Ah, 
+Montague, 
+
+
+If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand, 
+
+And with thy lips keep in my soul awhile! 
+
+Thou lovest me not; for, brother, if thou didst 
+
+Thy tears would wash this cold congealed 
+blood 
+
+That glues my lips and will not let me speak. 
+
+Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead. 
+
+Som. Ah, Warwick! Montague 
+
+breathed his last; 
+
+And to the latest gasp cried out for Warwick 
+
+And said ‘Commend me to my valiant brother.’ 
+
+And more he would have said, and more he 
+
+
+hath 
+40 
+
+
+spoke, 
+Which sounded like a clamour ih a vault, 
+That mought not be distinguishe’d; but at last 
+I well might hear, deliver’d with a groan, 
+‘O, farewell, Warwick!’ 
+ar. Sweet rest his soul! Fly, lords, and 
+save yourselves; 
+For Warwick bids you all farewell, to meet 
+in heaven. [Dies. 
+Oxf. Away, away, to meet the queen’s 
+great power! 
+[Here they bear away his body. 
+
+
+Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. Another part of the field. 
+
+
+Flourish. Enter Kina Epwarp in triumph; 
+with GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, and the rest. 
+
+
+K.Edw. Thus far our fortune keeps an 
+upward course, 
+And we are graced with wreaths of victory. 
+But, in the midst of this bright-shining day, 
+I spy a black, suspicious, threatening cloud, 
+That will encounter with our glorious sun, 
+Ere he attain his easeful western bed: 
+I mean, my lords, those powers that the queen 
+Hath raised in Gallia have arrived our coast 
+And, as we hear, march on to fight with us. 
+Clar. A little gale will soon disperse that 
+cloud 10 
+And blow it to the source from whence it 
+came: 
+The very beams will dry those vapours up, 
+For every cloud engenders not a storm. 
+Glou. The queen is valued thirty thousand 
+strong, 
+And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her: 
+
+
+If she have time to breathe, be well assured 
+
+
+Her faction will be full as strong as ours. 
+K. Edw. We are advertised by our loving 
+friends 
+BP ey do hold their course toward Tewks- 
+ury: 
+We, having now the best at Barnet field, 20 
+Will thither straight, for willingness rids way; 
+And, as we march, our strength will be aug- 
+mented 
+In every county as we go along. 
+Strike up the drum; cry ‘Courage!’ and away. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Plains near Tewksbury. 
+
+
+March. Enter QuEEN MarcARET, PRINCE 
+Epwarpb, SoMERSET, OxrForp, and soldiers. 
+
+
+Q. Mar. Great lords, wise men ne'er sit 
+
+
+and wail their loss, 
+But cheerly seek how to redress their harms. 
+What though the mast be now blown over- 
+
+
+oard, 
+
+The cable broke, the holding-anchor lost, 
+
+And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood? 
+
+Yet lives our pilot still. Is't meet that he 
+
+Should leave the helm and like a fearful lad 
+
+With tearful eyes add water to the sea 
+
+And give more strength to that which hath too 
+9 
+
+
+much, 
+
+Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on the 
+rock, 
+
+Which industry and courage might have 
+saved > 
+
+
+Ah, what a shame! ah, what a fault were this! 
+
+Say Warwick was our anchor; what of that? 
+
+And Montague our topmost; what of that? 
+
+Our slaughter’d friends the tackles; what of 
+these ? 
+
+Why, is not Oxford here another anchor?. 
+
+And Somerset another goodly mast? 
+
+The friends of France our shrouds and tack~ 
+lings? 
+
+And, though unskilful, why not Ned and I 
+
+For once allow'd the skilful pilot's charge? 20 
+
+We will not from the helm to sit and weep, 
+
+But keep our course, though the rough wind 
+say no, 
+
+From shelves and rocks that threaten us with 
+wreck. 
+
+As seed to chide the waves as speak them 
+
+
+And germ is Edward but a ruthless sea? 
+
+What Clarence but a quicksand of deceit? 
+
+And Richard but a ragged fatal rock? 
+
+All these the enemies to our poor bark. 
+
+Say you can swim; alas, ‘tis but a while! 
+
+Tread hy sand; why, there you quickly 
+sin 
+
+Bestride the rock; the tide will wash you off, 
+
+
+pret {Ra ke RPP: 
+ey “5 
+
+
+- Act V, Sc. V] THIRD PART OF 
+
+
+Or else you famish; that’s a threefold death. 
+
+This speak I, lords, to let you understand, 
+
+If case some one of you would fly from us, 
+
+That there's no hoped-for mercy with the 
+brothers 
+
+More than with ruthless waves, with sands 
+and rocks. 
+
+Why, courage then! what cannot be avoided 
+
+*Twere childish weakness to lament or fear. 
+
+Prince. Methinks a woman of this valiant 
+
+spirit ' 
+
+Should, if a coward heard her speak these 
+words, 4 
+
+Infuse his breast with magnanimity 
+
+And make him, naked} foil a man at arms. 
+
+I. speak not this as doubting any here; 
+
+For did I but suspect a fearful man, 
+
+He should have leave to go away betimes, 
+Lest in our need he might infect another 
+And make him of like spirit to himself. 
+
+If any such be here—as God forbid! — 
+
+Let him depart before we need his help. 
+
+Oxf. Women and children of so high a 
+
+courage, 50 
+
+And warriors faint! why, ‘twere perpetual 
+shame. 
+
+O brave young prince! thy famous grandfather 
+
+Doth live again in thee: long mayst thou live 
+
+To bear his image and renew his glories! 
+
+Som. And he that will not fight for such 
+a hope, 
+Go home to bed, and like the owl by day, 
+If he arise, be mock’d and wonder'd at. 
+Q.Mar, Thanks, gentle Somerset; sweet 
+Oxford, thanks. 
+' Prince. And take his thanks that yet hath 
+
+
+nothing else. 
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+Mess, Prepare you, lords, for Edward is 
+at hand, 60 
+Ready to fight; therefore be resolute. 
+Oxf. I thought no less: it is his policy 
+_ To haste thus fast, to find us unprovided. 
+Som. But he’s deceived; we are in readi- 
+ness. : 
+
+
+Q. Mar. This cheers my heart, to see your 
+fordwardness. 
+
+Oxf. Here pitch our battle; hence we will 
+not budge. 
+
+
+Flourish and march. Enter Kinc Epwarp, 
+GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, and <oldiers. 
+K. Edw. Brave followers, yonder stands the 
+thorny wood, 
+Which, by the heavens’ assistance and your 
+strength, 
+Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night. 
+I need not add more fuel to your fire, 70 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI 683 
+
+
+For well I wot ye blaze to burn them out: 
+Give signal to the first, and to it, lords! 
+Q. Mar. Lords, knights, and gentlemen, 
+what I should say 
+My tears gainsay; for every word I speak, 
+Ye see, I drink the water of mine eyes. 
+Therefore, no more but this: Henry, your 
+sovereign, 
+Is prisoner to the foe; his state usurp’d, 
+His realm a slaughter-house, his subjects slain, 
+
+
+| His statutes cancell'’d and his treasures spent; 
+
+
+And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil. 
+
+
+O| You fight in justice: then, in God's name, 
+
+
+lords, 
+Be valiant and give signal to the fight. 
+[Alarum: Retreat: Excursions. Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene V. Another part of the field. 
+
+
+Flourish. Enter Kinc Epwarp, GLOUCESTER, 
+CLARENCE, and soldiers ; with QUEEN Mar- 
+GARET, OxForD, and SOMERSET, prisoners. 
+
+
+K. Edw. Now here a period of tumultuous 
+broils. 
+Away with Oxford to Hames Castle straight: 
+For Somerset, off with his guilty head. 
+Go, bear them hence; I will not hear them 
+speak, 
+Oxf. For my part, I'll not trouble thee 
+with words. 
+Som. Nor I, but stoop with patience to my 
+fortune. 
+[Exeunt Oxford and Somerset, guarded. 
+Q. Mar. So part we sadly in this troublous 
+world, 
+To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem. 
+K. Edw. Is proclamation made, that who 
+finds Edward 
+Shall have a high reward, and he his life? 10 
+Glou. It is: and lo, where youthful Ed- 
+
+
+ward. comes! 
+Enter soldiers, with Prince Epwar>. 
+
+
+K. Edw. Bring forth the’ gallant, let us 
+hear him speak. 
+What! can so young a thorn begin to prick? 
+Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make 
+For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects, 
+And all the trouble thou hast turn’d me to? 
+Prince. Speak like a subject, proud ambi- 
+tious York! 
+Suppose that I am now my father’s mouth; 
+Resign thy chair, and where I stand kneel 
+thou, 
+Whilst I propose the selfsame words to thee, 
+Which, traitor, thou. wouldst have me answer 
+to, 
+
+
+684 THIRD PART OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI [Act V, Sc. VI 
+
+
+Q. Mar. Ah, that thy father had been so 
+
+
+resolved! 
+Glou. That you might still have worn the 
+
+petticoat, 
+And ne’er have stol’n the breech from Lan- 
+
+
+caster, 
+Prince. Let FEsop fable in winter's night; 
+His currish riddles sort not with this place. 
+Glou. By heaven, brat, I ‘ll plague ye for 
+that word. 
+Q. Mar. Ay, thou wast born to be a plague 
+to men. 
+Glou. For God's sake, take away this cap- 
+tive scold, 
+Prince. Nay, take away this scolding crook- 
+back rather. 30 
+K. Edy. Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm 
+your tongue. 
+Clar. Untutor’d lad, thou art too malapert. 
+Prince. I know my duty; you are all un- 
+dutiful: 
+Lascivious Edward, and thou perjured George, 
+And thou mis-shapen Dick, I tell ye all 
+I am your better, traitors as ye are: 
+And thou usurp’st my father’s right and mine. 
+K. Edw. Take that, thou likeness of this 
+railer here. [Stabs him. 
+Glou. Sprawl'st thou? take that, to end thy 
+agony. Stabs him. 
+Clar. And there ‘s for twitting me with per- 
+
+
+jury. [Stabs him. 40 
+Q. Mar. O, kill me too! 
+Glou. Marry, and shall. [Offers to kill her. 
+K.Edw. Hold, Richard, hold; for we 
+have done too much. 
+Glou. Why should she live, to fill the 
+world with words? 
+K. Edw. What, doth she swoon? use means 
+for her recovery. 
+Glou. Clarence, excuse me to the king my 
+brother; 
+I |] hence to London on a serious matter: 
+
+
+Ere ye come there, be sure to hear some news. 
+Clar. What? what? 
+Glou. The Tower, the Tower. [Exit. 50 
+
+
+Q. Mar. O Ned, sweet Ned! speak to thy 
+mother, boy! 
+Canst thou not speak? O traitors! murderers! 
+They that stabb’d Cesar shed no blood at all, 
+Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame, 
+If this foul deed were by to equal it: 
+e was a man; this, in respect, a child: 
+And men ne’er spend their fury on a child. 
+What's worse than murderer, that | may name 
+it? 
+No, no, my heart will burst, an if I speak: 
+And I will speak, that so my heart may burst. 
+Butchers and villains! bloody cannibals! 61 
+How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd! 
+
+
+You have no children; butchers! if you had, 
+
+The thought of them would have stirr’d up 
+remorse: 
+
+But if you ever chance to have a child, 
+
+Look in his youth to have him so cut off 
+
+As, deathsmen, you have rid this sweet young 
+prince! 
+
+K.Edw. Away with her; go, bear her 
+
+hence perforce. 
+
+Q. Mar. Nay, never bear me hence, dis- 
+
+patch me here; 
+Here sheathe thy sword, I'll pardon the my 
+death: 70 
+What, wilt thou not? then, Clarence, do it 
+thou. 
+Clar. By heaven, I will not do thee so 
+much ease. i 
+Q. Mar. Good Clarence, do; swéet Clar- 
+ence, do thou do it. 
+Clar. Didst thou not hear me swear I would 
+not do it? 
+
+oe Ay, thou usest to forswear thy- 
+
+seir: 
+
+"Twas sin before, but now ‘tis charity. 
+
+What, wilt thou not? Where is that devil’s 
+butcher, 
+
+Hard-favoured Richard? Richard, where art 
+thou > 
+
+Thou art not here: murder is thy alms-deed; 
+
+Petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back. 
+
+K. Edw. Away, I say; I charge ye, bear 
+
+her hence. 
+
+Q. Mar. So come to you and yours, as to 
+
+this prince! ° [Exit, led out forcibly. 
+K. Edw. Where's Richard gone? 
+Clar. To London, all in post; and, as | 
+guess, : 
+To make a bloody supper in the Tower. 
+K. Edw. He's sudden, if a thing comes in 
+his head. 
+Now march we hence: discharge the common 
+sort 
+With pay and thanks, and lets away to Lon- 
+on 
+And see our gentle queen how well she fares: 
+By this, I hope, she hath a son for me. 
+
+: [Exeunt. 
+Scene VI. London. The Tower. 
+Enter Kinc Henry and GLoucestTeR, with 
+
+the Lieutenant, on the walls. 
+
+
+Glou. Good day, my lord: What, at your 
+book so hard? 
+K. Hen. Ay, my good lord:—my lord, I 
+should say rather; 
+"Tis sin to flatter; *good’ was little better: 
+“Good Gloucester’ and ‘good devil’ were alike, 
+
+
+Acr V, Se. VI] THIRD PART OF 
+
+
+And both preposterous; therefore, not ‘good 
+
+
+ord. 
+Glou. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves: we 
+must confer. Exit Lieutenant. 
+K. Hen. So flies the reckless shepherd from 
+the wolf; 
+So first the harmless sheep doth yield his 
+fleece 
+And next his throat unto the butcher's knife. 9 
+
+
+What scene of death hath Roscius now to 
+
+
+act? 
+
+
+Glou. Suspicion always haunts the guilty | 
+
+
+mind; 
+The thief doth fear each bush an officer. 
+
+K. Hen. The bird that hath been limed 
+
+in a bush, 
+With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush; 
+And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird, 
+Have now the fatal object in my eye 
+Where my poor young was limed, was caught 
+and kill'd. 
+Glou. Why, what a peevish fool was that 
+of Crete, 
+That taught his son the office of a fowl! 19 
+And yet, for all his wings, the fool was 
+drown’'d. 
+
+K. Hen, 1, Dedalus; my poor boy, Icarus; 
+Thy father, Minos, that denied our course; 
+The sun that sear’d the wings of my sweet boy 
+Thy brother Edward, and thyself the sea 
+Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life. 
+Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words! 
+My breast can better brook thy dagger’s point 
+Than can my ears that tragic history. 
+
+But wherefore dost thou come? is’t for my 
+life? 
+
+Glou. Think ’st thou I am an executioner? 
+
+K. Hen. A persecutor, I am sure, thou art: 
+If murdering innocents be executing, 
+
+Why, then thou art an executioner. 
+
+Glou. Thy son I kill’d for his presumption. 
+K. Hen. Hadst thou been kill’d when first 
+
+thou didst presume, 
+
+Thou hadst not lived to kill a son of mine. 
+
+And thus I prophesy, that many a thousand, 
+
+Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear, 
+
+And many an old man’s sigh and many a 
+widow's, 
+
+And many an orphan’s water-standing eye— 
+
+Men for their sons, wives for their husbands, 
+
+And orphans for their parents’ timeless death— 
+
+Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born. 
+
+The owl 'shriek’d at thy birth,—an evil sign; 
+
+The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time; 
+
+Dogs howl’d, and hideous tempest shook 
+down trees; 
+
+The raven rook'd her on the chimney’s top, 
+
+And chattering pies in dismal discords sung. 
+
+Thy mother felt more than a mother’s pain, 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI 685 
+
+
+And yet brought forth less than a mother's 
+hope, 50 
+To wit, an indigested and deformed lump, 
+Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree, 
+peat hadst thou in thy head when thou wast 
+orn, 
+To signify thou camest to bite the world: 
+And, if the rest be true which I have heard, 
+Thou camest— 
+Glou. I'll hear no more: die, prophet, in 
+thy speech: Stabs him. 
+For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain'd. 
+K. Hen. Ay, and for much more slaughter 
+
+
+after this, 
+O, God forgive my sins, and pardon thee! 
+[Dies. 
+Glou. What, will the aspiring blood of 
+Lancaster 6] 
+Sink in the ground? [ thought it would have 
+mounted. 
+
+
+See how my sword weeps for the poor king's 
+death! 
+O, may such purple tears be alway shed 
+From those that wish the downfall of our 
+house! 
+If any spark of life be yet remaining, 
+Down, down to hell; and say I sent thee 
+thither: 
+[Stabs him again. 
+I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear. 
+Indeed, ‘tis true that Henry told me of; 
+For I have often heard my mother say 
+I came into the world with my legs forware : 
+Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste, 
+And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right? 
+The midwife wonder’d and the women cried 
+‘O, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth!’ 
+And so I was; which plainly signified 
+That I should snarl and bite and play the dog. 
+Then, since the heavens have shaped my 
+body so, 
+Let hell make crook’d my mind to answer it. 
+I have no brother, I am like no brother; 80 
+And this word ‘love,’ which greybeards call 
+divine, 
+Be resident in men like one another 
+And not in me: I am myself alone. 
+Clarence, beware; thou keep’st me from the 
+light: 
+But I will sort a pitchy day for thee; 
+For I will buz abroad such prophecies 
+That Edward shall be fearful of his life, 
+And then, to purge his fear, I "Il be thy death. 
+King Henry and the prince his son are gone: 
+Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest, 90 
+Counting myself but bad till I be best. 
+I'll throw thy body in another room 
+And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom. 
+[Exit with the body, 
+
+
+686 THIRD PART OF 
+Scene VII. London. The palace. 
+Flourish, knter Kina Epwarp, QUEEN 
+ELIzABFTH, CLARENCE, GLOUCESTER, 
+
+
+Hastincs, a Nurse with the young Prince, 
+and Attendants. 
+
+
+K. Edw. Once more we sit in England’s 
+
+royal throne, 
+
+Re-purchased with the blood of enemies. 
+
+What valiant foemen, like to autumn’s corn, 
+
+Have we mow'd down in tops of all their 
+pride! 
+
+Three Dukes of Somerset, threefold renown’d 
+
+For hardy and undoubted champions; 
+
+Two Cliffords, as the father and the son, 
+
+And two Northumberlands; two braver men 
+
+Ne’er spurr’d their coursers at the trumpet'’s 
+sound; 
+
+With them, the two brave bears, Warwick and 
+Montague, 10 
+
+That in their chains fetter’d the kingly lion 
+
+And made the forest tremble when they 
+roar’d. 
+
+Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat 
+
+And made our footstool of security. 
+
+Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy. 
+
+Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles and myself 
+
+Have in our armours watch’d the winter's 
+night, 
+
+Went all afoot in summer's scalding heat, 
+
+That thou mightst repossess the crown in 
+peace; 
+
+And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain. 20 
+
+Glou. [Aside] I'll blast his harvest, if 
+
+your head were laid; 
+
+For yet I am not look’d on in the world. 
+
+This shoulder was ordain’d so thick to heave; 
+
+
+KING HENRY VI 
+
+
+And heave it shall some weight, or break my 
+back: 
+Work thou the way;—and thou shalt execute. 
+K. Edw. Clarence and Gloucester, love my 
+lovely queen; ~ 
+And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both. 
+Clar. The duty that I owe unto your ma- 
+jesty 
+I seal upon the lips of this sweet babe. 
+Q. Eliz. Thanks, noble Clarence; worthy 
+brother, thanks. 30 
+Glou. And, that I love the tree from 
+whence thou sprang’st, 
+Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit. 
+[Aside] To say the truth, so Judas kiss’d his 
+
+
+master, 
+And cried ‘all hail!’ when as he meant all’ 
+harm. 
+K. Edw. Now am I seated as my soul de- 
+lights, 
+Having my country’s peace ‘and brothers’ 
+loves. 
+Clar. What will your grace have done with 
+Margaret? 
+
+
+Reignier, her father, to the king of France 
+Hath pawn’d the Sicils and Jerusalem, 
+And hither have they sent it for her ransom. 
+K. Edw. Away with her, and waft her 
+hence to France. 4) 
+And now what rests but that we spend the 
+time 
+With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows, 
+Such as befits the pleasure of the court? 
+Sound drums and trumpets! farewell sour 
+annoy! 
+For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. VH 
+
+
+ee ee eo 
+
+
+THE TRAGEDY OF 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+DRAMATIS 
+
+
+Kinc Epwarp the Fourth. 
+RicHarp, Duke of York, 
+
+
+. Fo sons to the 
+Epwarb, Prince of Waies, after+ l 
+
+
+wards King Edward V., ) king. 
+GeorceE, Duke of Clarence, pega 
+Ricuarp, Duke of Gloucester, yomeye 2? 
+the King, 
+
+
+afterwards King Richard III., 
+A young son of ‘Clarence. 
+Henry, Earl of Richmond, afterwards King 
+Henry VII. 
+oe Bourcuier, Archbishop of Canter- 
+ury. 
+
+Tuomas RotHERHAM, Archbishop of York. 
+
+JoHn Morton, Bishop of Ely. 
+
+Duke oF BuckINGHAM. 
+
+Duxe or NorroLk. 
+
+Ear oF Surrey, his son. 
+
+Eart Rivers, brother to Elizabeth. 
+
+Marguis oF Dorset and Lorp Grey, sons 
+to Elizabeth. 
+
+EarL oF Oxrorpb. 
+
+Lorp HastInNcs. 
+
+Lorp STANLEY, called also EARL or DERBY. 
+
+Lorp LoveEL. 
+
+Sir THomas VAUGHAN. 
+
+Sir Ricuarp Ratcuirr. 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+
+
+A street. 
+Enter RICHARD, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, solus. 
+
+
+Glou. Now is the winter of our discontent 
+Made glorious summer by this sun of York; 
+And all the clouds that lour’d upon our house 
+In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. 
+
+Now are our brows bound with victorious 
+wreaths; 
+
+Our bruised arms hung up for monuments; 
+
+Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, 
+
+Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. 
+
+Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled 
+front; 
+
+And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds 10 
+
+To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, 
+
+_ He capers nimbly in a lady’s chamber 
+
+To the lascivious pleasing of < lute. 
+
+
+Scene I.’ London. 
+
+
+PERSON/E 
+
+
+Sir WILLIAM CATEsBY, 
+
+Sir James Tyree. 
+
+Sir James Biount. 
+
+Sir Water HErsertT. 
+
+Sir Rosert BrakKENnBurY, Lieutenant of the 
+Tower. 
+
+CHRISTOPHER URSWICK, a priest. 
+priest. 
+
+TRESSEL and BERKELEY, gentlemen attend- 
+ing on the Lady Anne. 
+
+Lord Mayor of London. Sheriff of Wiltshire. 
+
+ELIZABETH, queen to King Edward IV. 
+
+Marcaret, widow of King Henry VI. 
+
+DucueEss oF York, mother to King Edward 
+IV. 
+
+Lapy ANNE, widow of Edward Prince of 
+Wales, son to King Henry VI.; afterwards 
+married to Richard. 
+
+A young daughter of Clarence (MarcaRET 
+PLANTAGENET). 
+
+Ghosts of those murdered by Richard IIL, 
+Lords and other Attendants; a Pursuivant, 
+Scrivener, Citizens, Murderers, Messengers, 
+Soldiers, &c. 
+
+
+Another 
+
+
+Scene: England. 
+
+
+But J, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, 
+
+Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass; 
+
+I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's 
+majesty 
+
+To strut before a wanton ambling nymph; 
+
+I, that am curtail’d of this fair proportion, 
+
+Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, 
+
+Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time 
+
+Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, 
+
+And that so lamely and unfashionable 
+
+That dogs bark at me as I halt by them; 
+
+Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, 
+
+Have no delight to pass away the time, 
+
+Unless to spy my shadow in the sun 
+
+And descant on mine own deformity: 
+
+And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover, 
+
+To entertain these fair well-spoken days, 
+
+I am determined to prove a villain 30 
+
+And hate the idle pleasures of these days. 
+
+Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous, 
+
+
+€87 
+
+
+688 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+{Acr I, Sc. I 
+
+
+ESS 
+
+
+By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams, 
+
+To set my brother Clarence and the king 
+
+In deadly hate the one against the other: 
+
+And if King Edward be as true and just 
+
+As I am subtle, false and treacherous, 
+
+This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up, 
+
+About a prophecy, which says that G 
+
+Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be. 40 
+
+Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here Clar- 
+ence comes. 
+
+
+Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and 
+BRAKENBURY, 
+
+
+Brother, good day: what means this armed 
+guard 
+That waits upon your grace? 
+Clar. His majesty, 
+Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed 
+is conduct to convey me to the Tower. 
+Glou. Upon what cause? 
+Clar. Because my name is George. 
+Glou. Alack, my lord, that fault is none 
+of yours; 
+He should, for that, commit your godfathers: 
+O, belike his majesty hath some intent 49 
+That you shall be new-christen’d in the Tower. 
+But what's the matter, Clarence? may I know? 
+Clar. Yea, Richard, when I know; for I 
+protest 
+As yet I do not: but, as I can learn, 
+He _hearkens after prophecies and dreams; 
+And from the cross-row plucks the letter G 
+And says a wizard told him that by G 
+His issue disinherited should be; 
+And, for my name of George begins with G, 
+It fellows in his thought that I am he. 59 
+These, as I learn, and such like toys as these 
+Have moved his highness to commit me now. 
+Glou. Why, this it is, when men are ruled 
+by women: 
+‘Tis not the king that sends you to the Tower; 
+My Lady Grey his wife, Clarence, ‘tis she 
+That tempers him to this extremity. 
+Was it not she and that good man of worship, 
+Anthony Woodville, her brother there, 
+That made him send Lord Hastings to the 
+Tower, 
+From whence this present day he is deliver’d? 
+We are not safe, Clarence; we are not safe. 
+Clar. By heaven, | think there ’s no man is 
+secure 
+But the queen’s kindred and_night-walking 
+heralds 
+That trudge betwixt the king and Mistress 
+Shore. 
+Heard ye not what an humble suppliant 
+Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery > 
+Glos. Humbly complaining to her deity 
+
+
+Got ‘my lord chamberlain his liberty. 
+I'll tell you what; I think it is our way, 
+If we will keep in favour with the king, 
+To be her men and wear her livery: 
+The jealous o’erworn widow and herself, 
+Since that our brother dubb’d them gentle- 
+women, 
+Are mighty gossips in this monarchy. 
+Brak. I beseech your graces both to pardon 
+me; 
+His majesty hath straitly given in charge 
+That no man shall have private conference, 
+Of what degree soever, with his brother. 
+Glou. Even so; ant please your worship, 
+Brakenbury, 
+You may partake of any thing we say: 
+We speak no treason, man: we say the king . 
+Is wise and virtuous, and his noble queen 
+Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous; 
+We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot, 
+A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing 
+tongue; 
+And safe the queen's kindred are made gentle: 
+folks: 
+How say you, sir? can you deny all this? 
+Brak. With this, my lord, myself have 
+nought to do. 
+Glou. Naught to do with Mistress Shore! 
+I tell thee, fellow, 
+He that doth naught with her, excepting one, 
+Were best he do it secretly, alone. 1 
+Brak. What one, my lord? 
+Glou. Her husband, knave: wouldst thou 
+betray me? 
+Brak. 1 beseech your grace to pardon me, 
+and withal 
+Forbear your conference with the noble duke. 
+Clar. We know thy -charge, Brakenbury, 
+and will obey. 
+Glou. We are the queen’s abjects, and- 
+must obey. 
+Brother, farewell: I will unto the king; 
+And whatsoever you will employ me in, 
+Were it to call King Edward's widow sister. 
+I will perform it to enfranchise you. 110 
+Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood 
+Touches me deeper than you can imagine. 
+Clar. I know it pleaseth neither of us well. 
+Glou. Well, your imprisonment shall not 
+be long; 
+I will deliver you, or else lie for you: 
+Meantime, have patience. 
+Clar. I must perforce. Farewell. 
+[Exeunt Clarence, Brakenbury, and Guard. 
+Glou. Go, tread the path that thou shalt 
+ne'er return, 
+Simple, plain Clarence! I do love thee so, 
+That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven, 
+If heaven will take the present at our hands. 
+
+
+Act I, Se, II} 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+689 
+
+
+But who comes here? the new-deliver'’d 
+
+
+Hastings ? 
+Enter Lorp Hastincs, 
+Hast. 
+
+
+lord 
+Glou. As much unto my good lord cham- 
+berlain! 
+Well are you welcome to the open air. 
+How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment ? 
+Hast. With patience, noble lord, as prison- 
+ers must: 
+But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks 
+That were the cause of my imprisonment. 
+Glou. No doubt, no doubt; and so shall 
+Clarence too; - 
+For they that were your enemies are his, 130 
+And have prevail’d as much on him as you. 
+
+
+ioe ae pity that the eagle should be 
+
+
+Good time of day unto my gracious 
+
+
+While ieee and buzzards prey at liberty. 
+Glou, What news abroad > 
+Hast. No news so bad abroad as this at 
+
+
+home; 
+The king is sickly, weak and melancholy, 
+And his physicians fear him mightily. 
+Glou. Now, by Saint Paul, this news is 
+bad indeed. 
+_ O, he hath kept an evil diet long, 
+And overmuch consumed his royal person: 
+‘Tis very grievous to be thought upon. 
+‘What, is he in his bed? 
+Hast. He is. 
+Glou. Go you before, and I will follow you. 
+[Exit Hastings. 
+He cannot live, I hope; and must not die 
+Till George be pack’d with post-horse up to 
+heaven. 
+‘ll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence, 
+With lies well steel’d with weighty arguments; 
+And, if I fail not in my deep intent, 
+Clarence hath not another day to live: 150 
+-~ Which done, God take King Edward to his 
+mercy, 
+And leave the world for me to bustle in! 
+
+
+For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest 
+
+
+daughter. 
+’ What though | kill’d her husband and her 
+father? 
+The readiest way to make the wench amends 
+Is to become her husband and her father: 
+The which will I; not all so much for love 
+As for another secret close intent, 
+By marrying her which I must reach unto. 
+But yet I rn before my horse to market: 160 
+Clarence still breathes; Edward still lives and 
+reigns: 
+When they are gone, then must I count my 
+gains. [Exit. 
+
+
+Scene II, The same. Another street. 
+
+
+Enter the corpse of Kinc Henry the Sixth, 
+Gentlemen with halberds to guard it; Lapy 
+ANNE being the mourner. 
+
+
+Anne. Set down, set down your honourable 
+load, 
+
+If honour may be shrouded in a hearse, 
+
+Whilst I awhile obsequiously lament 
+
+
+The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster. 
+
+
+‘Poor key-cold figure of a holy king! 
+
+
+Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster! 
+
+Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood! 
+
+Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost, 
+
+To hear the lamentations of poor Anne, 
+
+Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter'd son, 
+
+Stabb'd by the selfsame hand that made these 
+wounds! 
+
+Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life, 
+
+I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes. 
+
+Cursed be the hand that made these fatal holes! 
+
+Cursed be the heart that had the heart to do it! 
+
+Cursed the blood that let this blood from hence! 
+
+More direful hap betide that hated wretch, 
+
+That makes us wretched by the death of thee, 
+
+Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads, 
+
+Or any creeping venom’d thing that lives! 20 
+
+If ever he have child, abortive be it, 
+
+Prodigious, and untimely brought to light, 
+
+Whose ugly and unnatural aspect 
+
+May fright the hopeful mother at the view; 
+
+And that be heir to his unhappiness! 
+
+If ever he have wife, let her be made 
+
+As miserable by the death of him 
+
+As I am made by my poor lord and thee! 
+
+“seat ar towards Chertsey with your holy 
+oad. 
+
+Taken from Paul’s to be interred there; 
+
+And still, as you are weary of the weight, 
+
+Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry’s corse. 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+Enter GLOUCESTER. 
+
+
+Glou. Siay, you that bear the corse, and 
+set it down. 
+Anne. What black magician conjures up 
+this fiend, 
+To stop devoted charitable deed? 
+lou. Villains, set down the corse; or, by 
+Saint Paul, 
+I'll make a corse of him that disobeys. 
+Gent. My lord, stand back, and let the 
+coffin pass. 
+Glou. Unmanner'd dog! stand thou, when 
+I command: 
+Advance thy halberd higher than my breast, 
+Or. by Saint Paul, I ‘ll strike thee to my foot, 
+And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy bold- 
+ness. 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+690 KING RICHARD III [Acr I, Sc. Hl 
+
+
+Glou. By such despair, I should accuse 
+myself, 
+Anne. And, by despairing, shouldst thou 
+stand excused; 
+For doing worthy vengeance on. thyself, 
+Which didst unworthy slaughter upon others, 
+Glou. Say that I slew them not? 
+
+
+Anne. What, do you tremble? are you all 
+afraid > 
+Alas, I blame you not; for you are mortal, 
+And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil. 
+Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell! 
+Thou hadst but power over his mortal body, 
+His soul thou canst not have; therefore, be 
+
+
+gone. Anne. Why, then they are not dead: 
+Glou. Sweet saint, for charity, be not so | But dead: they are, and, devilish slave, by thee. 
+curst. Glou. 1 did not kill your husband. 
+
+
+Anne. Why, then he is alive. 
+
+Glou. Nay, he is dead; and slain by 
+Edward's hand. 
+
+Anne. In thy foul throat thou liest: Queen’ 
+Margaret saw 
+
+Thy murderous falchion smoking im his blood; 
+
+The which thou once didst bend against her’ 
+
+breast, 
+
+But that thy brothers beat aside the point. 
+Glou. I was provoked by her slanderous 
+tongue, 
+
+Which laid their guilt upon my guiltless 
+
+
+Anne. Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, 
+and trouble us not; 50 
+For thou hast made the happy earth thy 
+hell, 
+Fill’d it with cursing cries and deep exclaims. 
+If thou. delight to view thy heinous deeds, 
+Behold this pattern of ‘thy butcheries. 
+O, gentlemen, see, see! dead Henry's wounds 
+Open their congeal’d mouths and bleed afresh! 
+Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity; 
+For ‘tis thy presence that exhales this blood 
+From. cold and empty veins, where no blood 
+
+
+dwells; shoulders. 
+Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural, 60 Anne. Thou wast provoked by thy ‘bloody 
+Provokes this deluge most unnatural. mind, 
+
+
+O God, which this blood madest, revenge his 
+death! 
+O earth, which this blood drink’st, revenge his 
+death! 
+Either heaven with lightning strike the murder~ 
+er dead, 
+Or earth, gape open wide and eat him quick, 
+As thou dost swallow up this good king’s blood, 
+Which his hell-govern’d arm hath butchered! 
+Glou. Lady, you know no rules of charity, 
+Which renders cood for bad, blessings for curses. 
+Anne. Villain, thou know’st no law of God 
+nor man: 70 
+No beast so fierce but knows some touch of 
+
+
+Which never dreamt on aught but butcheries: 
+Didst thou not kill this king? 
+Glou., I grant ye. 101 
+Anne. Dost grant me, hedgehog? then, 
+God grant me too 
+Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed! 
+O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous! 
+Glou. The fitter for the King of heaven, 
+that hath, him. 
+Anne. He is in heaven, where thou shalt 
+never come, 
+Glou. Let him thank me, that holp to send 
+him thither; 
+For he was fitter for that place than earth. 
+Anne. And thou unfit for any place but hell. 
+
+
+pity. 
+Glou. But I know none, and therefore am}| Glou. Yes, one place else, if you will hear 
+
+
+no beast. me, name it. 110 
+Anne. O wonderful, when devils tell the Anne. Some dungeon. 
+
+truth! Glou. Your bed-chamber, 
+Glou. More wonderful, when angels are so Anne. Ill rest betide the chamber where 
+
+angry. thou liest! 
+
+
+Glou. So will it, madam, till I lie with you, 
+
+Anne. | hope so. 
+
+Glou. I know so. But, gentle Lady Anne, 
+To leave this keen encounter of our wits. 
+And fall somewhat into a slower method, 
+Is not the causer of the timeless deaths 
+Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward, 
+As blameful as the executioner ? 
+
+Anne. Thou art the cause, and most ac- 
+
+
+Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman, 
+Of these supposed evils. to give me leave, 
+By circumstance, but to acquit myself. 
+Anne. Vouchsafe, defused infection of a 
+man, 
+For these known evils, but to give me leave, 
+By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self. 80 
+Glou. Fairer than tongue can name thee, 
+let me have 
+
+
+Some patient leisure to excuse myself. cursed effect. 120 
+Anne. Fouler than heart can think thee, Glou. Your beauty was the cause of that 
+thon canst make effect; 
+
+
+By circumstance, but to acquit myself. Your beauty, which did haunt me in my sleep 
+
+
+2 
+
+
++.) 
+
+
+Act I, Sc. II] 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+691 
+
+
+\ ‘To undertake the deaths of all the world, 
+
+
+So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom. 
+Anne. If I thought that, I teil thee, homicide, 
+These nails should rend that beauty from my 
+cheeks, 
+Glou. These eyes could never endure sweet 
+beauty’s wreck; 
+You should not blemish it, if I stood by: 
+As all the world is cheered by the sun, 
+
+
+So I by that; it is my day, my life. 130 
+
+
+Anne. Black night o’ershade thy day, and 
+
+
+death thy life! 
+
+Glou. Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou 
+art both. 
+
+Anne. 1 would I were, to be revenged on 
+thee. 
+
+Glou. It is a quarrel most unnatural. 
+
+To be revenged on him that loveth you. 
+Anne. It is a quarrel just and reasonable, 
+
+
+_ To be revenged on him that slew my husband. 
+
+
+~Glou. He that bereft thee, lady, of thy 
+husband, 
+Did it to help thee to a better husband. 
+Anne. His better doth not breathe upon 
+
+
+the earth. 140 
+Glou. He lives that loves thee better than 
+he could. 
+Anne. Name him. 
+Glou. Plantagenet. 
+Anne. Why, that was he. 
+
+
+Glou. The selfsame name, but one of better 
+nature. 
+Anne. Where is he? 
+Glou. Here. [She spitteth at him.] 
+. Why dost thou spit at me? 
+Anne. Would it were mortal poison, for 
+thy sake! 
+Glou. Never came poison from so sweet a 
+place. 
+Anne. Never hung poison on a fouler toad. 
+Out of my sight! thou dost infect my eyes. 
+Glou. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have in- 
+fected mine. 150 
+Anne. Would they were basilisks, to strike 
+thee dead! 
+Glou. I would they were, that I might die 
+‘ at once; 
+For now they kill me with a living death. 
+‘Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn 
+salt tears, 
+Shamed their aspect with store of childish 
+drops: 
+These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear, 
+No, when my father York and Edward wept, 
+To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made 
+When black-faced Clifford shook his sword at 
+him; 
+Nor when thy warlike father, like a child, 160 
+Told the sad story of my father’s death, 
+
+
+And twenty times made pause to sob and weep, 
+
+That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks, 
+
+Like trees bedask“d with rain: in that sad time 
+
+My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear; 
+
+And what these sorrows could not thence 
+exhale, 
+
+Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with 
+
+weeping. 
+
+I never sued to friend nor enemy; 
+
+My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing 
+
+words; 
+
+But, now thy beauty is proposed my fee, 170 
+
+My proud heart sues and prompts my tongue 
+
+to speak. [She looks scornfully at him. 
+
+Teach not thy lips such scorn, for they were 
+
+made 
+
+For kissing, lady, not for such contempt. 
+
+if thy revengeful heart cannot forgive, 
+
+Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword; 
+
+Which if thou please to hide in this true bosom, 
+
+And let the soul forth that adoreth thee, 
+
+I lay it naked to the deadly stroke, 
+
+And humbly beg the death upon my knee. 
+
+[He lays his breast open: she offers at it 
+with his sword. 
+
+Nay, do not pause; for I did kill King Henry, 
+
+But ‘twas thy beauty that provoked me. 181 
+
+Nay, now dispatch; “twas I that stabb’d 
+
+young Edward, 
+
+But "twas thy heavenly face that set me on. 
+
+[Here she lets fall the sword. 
+
+Take up the sword again, or take up me. 
+Anne. Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy 
+
+death, 
+
+I will not be the executioner. 
+
+She Then bid me kill myself, and I will 
+
+o it. 
+
+Anne. I have already. 
+
+Glou. Tush, that was in thy rage: 
+Speak it again, and, even with the word, 
+That hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy 
+
+love, 190 
+
+Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love; 
+
+To both their deaths thou shalt be accessary. 
+Anne. I would I knew thy heart. 
+Glou, "Tis figured in my tongue. 
+Anne. I fear me both are false 
+Glou, Then never man was true. 
+Anne. Well, well, put up your sword. 
+Glou. Say, then, my peace is made. 
+Anne. That shall you know hereafter. 
+Glou. But shall 1 live in hope? 
+Anne. All men, | hope, live so. 
+Glou. Vouchsafe to wear this ring. 
+Anne. To take is not to give. 
+
+Glou. Look; how this ring encompasseth 
+
+thy finger, 
+
+Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart; 
+
+Wear both of them, for both of them are thine. 
+
+
+200 
+
+
+vg 
+
+
+(ee 
+
+
+692 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+[Act I, Sc. Ill 
+
+
+And if thy poor devoted suppliant may 
+But heg one favour at thy gracious hand, 
+Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever. 
+Anne, What is it? 
+Glou. That it would please thee leave these 
+sad designs 
+
+
+To him that hath more cause to be a mourner, 
+And presently repair to Crosby Place; 
+Where, after I have solemnly interr’d 
+At Chertsey monastery this noble king, 
+And wet his grave with my repentant tears, 
+I will with all expedient duty see you: 
+For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you, 
+Grant me this boon. 
+
+Anne. With all my heart; and much it 
+
+joys me too, 220 
+
+To see you are become so penitent. 
+Tressel and Berkeley, go along with me. 
+
+Glou. Bid me_ farewell. 
+
+Anne. ‘Tis more than you deserve; 
+But since you teach me how to flatter you, 
+Imagine I have said farewell already. 
+[Exeunt Lady Anne, Tressel, and Berkeley. 
+
+Glou. Sirs, take up the corse. 
+
+Gent. Towards Chertsey, noble lord? 
+
+Glou. No, to White-Friars; there attend 
+
+my coming. [Exeunt all but Gloucester. 
+Was ever woman in this humour woo'd? 
+Was ever woman in this humour won? 
+I'll have her; but I will not keep her long. 
+What! I, that kill’d her husband and his father, 
+To take her in her heart’s extremest hate, 
+With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, 
+The bleeding witness of her hatred by; 
+Having God, her conscience, and these bars 
+against me, 
+And I nothing to back my suit at all, 
+But the plain devil and dissembling looks, 
+And yet to win her, all the world to nothing! 
+Ha! 
+Hath she forgot already that brave prince, 240 
+Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months 
+since, 
+Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury? 
+A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman, 
+Framed in the prodigality of nature, 
+
+
+Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal, 
+
+
+The spacious world cannot again afford: 
+And will she yet debase her eyes on me, 
+
+
+That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet 
+
+
+prince, 
+And made her widow to a woful bed? 
+
+
+On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety ? 
+
+
+On me, that halt and am unshapen thus? 251 
+My dukedom to a beggarly denier, 
+
+I do mistake my person all this while: 
+
+Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot, 
+Myself to be a marvellous proper man. 
+U'll be at charges for a looking-glass, 
+
+
+To study fashions to adorn my body: 
+
+Since I am crept in favour with myself, 
+
+I will maintain it with some little cost. 260 
+
+But first I'll turn yon fellow in his grave; 
+
+And then return lamenting to my love. 
+
+Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass, | 
+
+That I may see my shadow.as I pass. {xil. | 
+|’ 
+
+
+—_—— | 
+And entertain some score or two of tailors, : 
+{ 
+
+
+Scene III. The palace. 
+
+
+Enter QUEEN ELizaBETH, Lorp Rivers, and | . 
+Lorp Grey. 
+
+
+Riv. Have patience, madam: there's no || 
+doubt his majesty i 
+Will soon recover his accustom’d health. / 
+Grey. In that you brook it ill, it makes him // 
+worse: Hi 
+Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good | 
+comfort, |} 
+And cheer his grace with quick and merry | 
+words, Hi 
+Q. Eliz. If he were dead, what would be- | 
+tide of me? i] 
+Riv. No other harm but loss of such a lord. 
+Q. Eliz. The loss of such a lord includes 
+all harm. é / 
+Grey. The heavens have bless'd you with | 
+a goodly son, | 
+
+To be your comforter when he is gone. 10. 
+Q. Eliz. Oh, he is young and his minority 
+
+Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloucester, 
+
+A man that loves not me, nor none of you. 
+Riv. Is it cencluded he shall be protector ? 
+Q. Eliz. Itisdetermined, not concluded yet: | 
+
+But so it must be, if the king miscarry, | 
+
+Enter BuckincHaM and Dery. I 
+
+Grey. Here come the lords of Buckingham | 
+
+
+and Derby. 
+Buck. Good time of day unto your royal | 
+grace! i 
+Der. God make your majesty joyful as you 
+have been! | 
+Q. Eliz. The Countess Richmond, good my | 
+Lord of Derby, 20) 
+
+
+To your good prayers will scarcely say amen. | 
+Yet, Derby, notwithstanding she’s your wife, | 
+And loves not me, be you, good lord, assured | 
+I hate not you for her proud arrogance. { 
+Der. | do beseech you, either not believe 
+The envious slanders of her false accusers; 
+Or, if she be accused in true. report, j 
+Bear with her weakness, which, I think, pro) 
+ceeds 
+From wayward sickness, and no grounded! 
+malice. | 
+
+
+Riv. Saw you the king to-day, my Lord of 
+
+
+Derby > a’ Wi ‘ 30 
+
+
+{ 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+\. 
+
+
+Acr I, Se, Ti] 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+Der. But now the Duke of Buckingham | Since every Jack became a gentleman, 
+
+
+and | : 
+Are come from visiting his majesty. 
+
+
+Q. Eliz. What likelihood of his amend- 
+ment, lords? 
+
+Buck. Madam, good hope; his 
+speaks cheerfully. 
+
+Q. Eliz. God grant him health! Did you 
+
+
+confer with him? 
+
+
+grace 
+
+
+Buck. Madam, we did: he desires to make 
+
+
+atonement 
+Betwixt the Duke of Gloucester and your 
+brothers, 
+And betwixt them and my Lord Chamberlain; 
+And sent to warn them to his royal presence. 
+Q. Eliz. Would all were well! but that 
+will never be: 40 
+I fear our happiness is at the highest. 
+
+
+‘Enter GLoucesTER, Hastincs, and Dorset. 
+
+
+Glou. They do me wrong, and I will not 
+endure it: 
+Who are they that complain unto the king, 
+That I, forsooth, am stern and love them not? 
+By holy Paul, they love his grace but lightly 
+That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours. 
+Because I cannot flatter and speak fair, 
+Smile in men’s faces, smooth, deceive and cog, 
+Duck with French nods and apish courtesy, 
+I must be held a rancorous enemy. 50 
+Cannot a plain man live and think no harm, 
+But thus his simple truth must be abused 
+By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks? 
+Riv. To whom in all this presence speaks 
+. your grace? ; 
+Glou. To thee, that hast nor honesty nor 
+grace. 
+When have I injured thee? when done thee 
+wrong ? 
+
+
+Or thee? or thee? or any of your faction? 
+
+
+A plague upon you all! His royal person,— 
+Whom God preserve better than you would 
+wish !— 
+Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing-while, 60 
+But you must trouble him with lewd com- 
+plaints. 
+Q. Eliz. Brother of Gloucester, you mis- 
+take the matter. 
+The king, of his own royal disposition, 
+And not provoked by any suitor else; 
+Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred, 
+Which in your outward actions shows itself, 
+Against my kindred, brothers, and myself, 
+Makes him to send; that thereby he may gather 
+The ground of your ill-will, and so remove it. 
+Glou. I cannot tell: the world is grown so 
+bad, 
+That wrens make prey where eagles dare not 
+perch: 
+
+
+here 's many a gentle person made a Jack. 
+Q. Eliz. Come, come, we know your mean- 
+ing, brother Gloucester; 
+You envy my advancement and my friends’: 
+God grant we never may have need of you! 
+Glou. Meantime, God grants that we have 
+need of you: 
+Our brother is imprison’d by your means, 
+Myself disgraced, and the nobility 
+Held in contempt; whilst many fair promotions 
+Are daily given to ennobles those 
+That scarce, some two days since, were worth 
+a noble.: 
+Q. Eliz. By Him that raised me to this 
+careful height 
+From that contented hap which I| enjoy'd, 
+I never did incense his majesty 
+Against the Duke of Clarence, but have been 
+An earnest advocate to plead for him. 
+My lord, you do me shameful injury, 
+Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects. 
+Glou. You may deny that you were not 
+the cause 90 
+Of my Lord Hastings’ late imprisonment. 
+Riv, She may, my lord, for— 
+Glou. She may, Lord Rivers! why, who 
+knows not so? 
+She may do more, sir, than denying that: 
+She may help you to many fair preferments; 
+And then deny her aiding hand therein, 
+And lay those honours on your high deserts. 
+What may she not? She may, yea, marry, 
+may she,— 
+Riv. What, marry, may she? 
+Glou. What, marry, may she! marry with 
+a king, 100 
+A bachelor, a handsome stripling too: 
+I wish your grandam had a worser match. 
+Q. Eliz. My Lord of Gloucester, I have 
+too long borne 
+Your blunt upbraidings and your bitter scoffs: 
+By heaven, I will acquaint his majesty 
+With those gross taunts I often have endured. 
+I had rather be a country servant-maid 
+Than a great queen, with this condition, 
+To be thus taunted, scorn’d, and baited at: 
+
+
+Enter QueEN Marcaret, behind. 
+
+
+Small joy have I in being England's queen. 
+Q. Mar. And lessen’d be that small, God, 
+I beseech thee! 
+Thy honour, state and seat is due to me. 
+Glou. What! threat you me with telling of 
+the king? 
+Tell him, and spare not: \ook, what I have said 
+I will avouch in presence of the king: 
+I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower. 
+
+
+| Tis time to speak; my pains are quite forgot. 
+
+
+694 
+
+
+KING: RICHARD. _ HII. 
+
+
+nnn —_—— eee 
+
+
+Q. Mar. Out, devil! I remember them too | If not, that, I being queen, you bow like 
+
+
+well: 
+Thou slewest iny husband Henry in the Tower, 
+And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury. 
+Glou. Ere you were queen, yea, or your 
+husband king, 
+I was a pack-horse in his great affairs; 
+A weeder-out of his proud adversaries, 
+A liberal rewarder of his friends: 
+To royalise his blood I spilt mine own. 
+Mar. Yea, and much better blood than 
+his or thine. 
+Glou. In all which time you and your 
+husband Grey . 
+Were factious for the house of Lancaster; 
+And, Rivers, so were you. Was not your 
+husband 
+In Margaret's battle at Saint Alban’s slain? 
+Let me put in your minds, if you forget, 
+What you have been ere now, and what you 
+
+
+are; 
+Withal, what I have been, and what I am. 
+Q. Mar. A murderous villain, and so still 
+thou art. 
+Glou. Poor Clarence did forsake his father, 
+Warwick; 
+Yea, and forswore himself,—which Jesu par- 
+on!— 
+Q. Mar. Which God revenge! 
+Glou. To fight on Edward's party for the 
+crown; 
+And for his meed, poor lord, he is mew’d up. 
+I would to God my heart were flint, like Ed- 
+ward's; 140 
+Or Edward’s soft and pitiful, like mine: 
+I am too childish-foolish for this world. 
+Q. Mar. Hie thee to hell for shame, and 
+leave the world, 
+Thou cacodemon! there thy kingdom is. 
+Riv. My Lord of Gloucester, in those busy 
+days 
+Which here you urge to prove us enemies, 
+We follow’d then our lord, our lawful king: 
+So should we you, if you shouid be our king. 
+Glou. If I should be! I had rather be a 
+pedlar: 
+Far be it from my heart, the thought of it! 150 
+Q. Eliz. As little joy, my lord, as you 
+suppose 
+You should enjoy, were you this country’s king, 
+As little joy may you suppose wn me, 
+That I enjoy, being the queen thereof. 
+Q. Mar. A little joy enjoys the queen 
+thereof ; 
+For I am she, and altogether joyless. 
+I can no longer hold me patient. [Advancing. 
+Hear me, you wrangling pirates. that fall out 
+In sharing that which you have pill’d from me! 
+Which of you trembles not that looks on me? 
+
+
+subjects, 161 
+Yet that by you deposed, you quake like rebels? 
+O gentle villain, do not turn away! 
+
+
+Glou. Foul wrinkled witch, what makest - 
+
+
+thou in my. sight? 
+Q. Mar. But repetition of what thou hast 
+marr’d; 
+That will I make before I let thee go. 
+Glou. Wert thou not banished on pain of 
+death? 
+Q. Mar. I was; but I do find more pain 
+in banishment 
+Than death can yield me here by my abode. 
+A husband and a son thou owest tome; 170 
+And thou a kingdom; all of you allegiance: 
+The sorrow that I have, by right is yours, 
+And all the pleasures you usurp are mine. 
+
+
+Glou. The curse my noble father laid on 
+
+
+thee, 
+
+When thou didst crown his warlike brows with 
+paper 
+
+And. with thy scorns drew’st rivers from his 
+
+
+eyes, 
+
+And then, to dry them, gavest the duke a clout 
+
+Siaond in the faultless blood of pretty Rut- 
+and,— 
+
+His curses, then from bitterness of soul 
+
+Denounced against thee, are all  fall’n upon 
+thee; 1 
+
+
+And God, not we, hath plagued thy bloody 
+eed, 
+Q. Eliz. So just is God, to right the inno- 
+
+
+cent, 
+Hast. O, ‘twas the foulest deed to slay that 
+babe, 
+And the most merciless that e’er was heard of! 
+Riv. Tyrants themselves wept when it was 
+reported. 
+Dor. No man but prophesied revenge for it. 
+Buck. Northumberland, then present, wept 
+to see i. 
+Q. Mar. What! were you snarling all be- 
+fore I came, 
+Ready to catch each other by the throat, 
+And turn you all your hatred now on me? 190 
+Did York's dread curse prevail so much with 
+heaven 
+That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's 
+death, 
+Their kingdom’s loss, my woful banishment, 
+Could all but answer for that peevish brat? 
+Can curses pierce the clouds and enter heaven? 
+Why then, give way, dull clouds, to my quick 
+curses! : 
+If not by war, by surfeit die your king, 
+As ours by murder to make him a king! 
+Edward thy son, which now is the Prince of 
+Wales, 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. III 
+
+
+‘Act I, Sc. Il] 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+For Edward my son, which was Prince of | Jie time will come when thou shalt wish for 
+
+
+ales, 
+
+
+me 
+Die in his youth by like untimely violence! 201 | To help thee curse that poisonous hunch-back’d 
+
+
+‘Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen, 
+Outlive thy glory, like my wretched self! 
+Long mayst thou live to wail thy children’s loss; 
+And see another, as I see thee now, 
+
+Deck’'d in thy rights, as thou art stall’d in mine! 
+Long die thy happy days before thy death; 
+
+And, after many lengthen’d hours of grief, 
+Die neither mother, wife, nor England's queen! 
+Rivers and Dorset, you were standers by, 210 
+And so wast thou, Lord Hastings, when my son 
+Was stabb’d with bloody daggers: God, | 
+
+pray him, 
+
+That none of you may live your natural age, 
+But by some unlook’d accident cut off! 
+
+Glou. Have done thy charm, thou hateful 
+wither'd hag! : 
+
+~ Q. Mar. And leave out thee? stay, dog, 
+
+~ for thou shalt hear me. 
+
+If heaven have any grievous plague in store 
+‘Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee, 
+
+_O, let them keep it ull thy sins be ripe, 
+
+And then hurl down their indignation 220 
+On thee, the troubler of the poor world’s peace! 
+The worm of Conscience still begnaw thy soul! 
+
+Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou 
+
+livest, 
+And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends! 
+No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine, 
+Unless it be whilst some tormenting dream 
+
+_Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils! 
+Thou elvish-mark’d, abortive, rooting hog! 
+
+Thou that wast seal’d in thy nativity 
+The slave of nature and the son of hell! 230 
+Thou slander of thy mother’s heavy womb! 
+Thou loathed issue of thy father’s loins! 
+
+Thou rag of honour! thou detested— 
+
+Glou. Margaret. 
+
+Q. Mar. Richard! 
+
+Glou, Ha! 
+
+Q. Mar. I call thee not. 
+Glou. I cry thee mercy then, for I had 
+
+; thought 
+That thou hadst call’d me all these bitter names. 
+
+~ Q. Mar. Why, so I did; but look’d for no 
+reply. 
+
+D, let me make the period to my curse! 
+Glou. "Tis done by me, and ends in ‘Mar- 
+garet.’ 
+Q. Eliz. Thus have you breathed your 
+curse against yourself, 240 
+Q. Mar. Poor painted queen, vain flourish 
+of my fortune! 
+Why strew’st thou sugar on that bottled spider, 
+Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about? 
+Fool, fool! thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself. 
+
+
+te) i ee 
+
+
+toad, 
+Hast. False-boding woman, end thy frantic 
+curse, 
+Lest to thy harm thou move our patience. 
+Q. Mar. Foul shame upon you! you have 
+all moved mine. 
+Riv. Were you well served, you would be 
+taught your duty. 250 
+Q. Mar. To serve me well, you all should 
+do me duty, 
+Teach me to be your queen, and you my sub- 
+jects: 
+O, serve me well, and teach yourselves that 
+duty! 
+Dor. Dispute not with her; she is lunatic. 
+Q. Mar. Peace, master marquess, you are 
+malapert: 
+Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce cur- 
+rent, 
+O, that your young nobility could judge 
+What 'twere to lose it, and be miserable! 
+They- that stand high have many _ blasts to 
+shake them; 
+And if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces. 
+Glou. Good counsel, marry: learn it, learn 
+it, marquess, 261 
+Dor. It toucheth you, my lord, as much as 
+
+
+me. 
+Glou. Yea, and much more: but I was 
+born so high, 
+Our aery buildeth in the cedar’s top, 
+And dallies with the wind and scorns the sun. 
+Q. Mar. And turns the sun to shade; alas! 
+alas! 
+Witness my son, now in the shade of death; 
+Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy 
+wrath 
+Hath in eternal darkness folded up. 
+Your aery buildeth in our aery’s nest. 
+O God, that seest it, do not suffer it; 
+As it was won with blood, lost be it so! 
+Back. Have done! for shame, if not for 
+charity. 
+Q. Mar. Urge neither charity nor shame to 
+me: 
+Uncharitably with me have you dealt, 
+And shamefully by you my hopes are butcher’d. 
+My charity is outrage, life my shame; 
+And in that shame still live my sorrow’s 
+range! 
+Buck. Have done, have done. 
+Q. Mar. O princely Buckingham, I ‘ll kiss 
+thy hand, » 280 
+In sign of league and amity with thee: 
+Now fair befal thee and thy noble house! 
+Thy garments are not spotted with our blood, 
+
+
+696 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. IV 
+
+
+rr OO —— ——— 
+
+
+Nor thou within the compass of my curse. 
+Buck. Nor no one here; for curses never 
+pass 
+The lips of those that breathe them in the air. 
+Q. Mar. 1'll not believe but they ascend 
+the sky, 
+And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace. 
+O Buckingham, take heed of yonder dog! 
+Look, when he fawns, he bites; and when he 
+bites, 290 
+His venom tooth will rankle to the death: 
+Have not to do with him, beware of him; 
+Sin, death, and hell have set their marks on 
+him, 
+And all their ministers attend on him. 
+Glou. What doth she say, my Lord of 
+Buckingham ? 
+Buck. Nothing that I respect, my gracious 
+lord. 
+Q. Mar. What, dost thou scorn me for 
+my gentle counsel > 
+And soothe the devil that I warn thee from? 
+O, but remember this another day, 
+When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow, 
+And say poor Margaret was a prophetess! 301 
+Live each of you the subjects to his hate, 
+And he to yours, and all of you to God’s. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+Hast. My hair doth stand on end to hear 
+her curses. 
+Riv. And so doth mine: I muse why she’s 
+at liberty. 
+Glou. I cannot blame her: by God’s holy 
+mother, 
+
+
+She hath had too much wrong; and I repent 
+My part thereof that I have done to her. 
+Q. Eliz. I never did her any, to my knowl- 
+edge. 
+Glou. But you have all the vantage of her 
+wrong. 310 
+I was too hot to do somebody good, 
+That is too cold in thinking of it now. 
+Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid; 
+He is frank'd up to fatting for his pains: 
+God pardon them that are the cause of it! 
+Riv. A virtuous and a Christian-like con- 
+clusion, 
+To pray for them that have done scathe to us. 
+Glou. So do I ever: [Aside] being well 
+advised 
+For had I cursed now, I had cursed myself. 
+
+
+Enter CatTEssy. 
+
+
+Cates. Madam, his majesty doth call for 
+you; 320 
+And for your grace; and you, my noble lords. 
+Q. Eliz. Catesby, we come. Lords, will 
+
+
+you go with us? 
+
+
+Riv. Madam, we will attend your grace, 
+[Exeunt all but Gloucester, 
+Glou. J do the wrong, and first begin to 
+brawl. 
+The secret mischiefs that I set abroach 
+I lay unto the grievous charge of others. 
+Clarence, whom I, indeed, have laid in dark- 
+ness, 
+I do beweep to many simple gulls; 
+Namely, to Hastings, Derby, Buckingham; 
+And say it is the queen and her allies 330 
+That stir the king against the duke my brother. 
+Now, they believe it; and withal whet me 
+To be revenged on Rivers, Vaughan, Grey: 
+But then I sigh; and with a piece of scripture, 
+Tell them that God bids us do good for evil: 
+And thus | clothe my naked villany ty 
+With old odd ends stolen out of holy writ; 
+And seem a saint, when most I play the devil. 
+
+
+Enter two Murderers. 
+
+
+But, soft! here come my executioners. 
+How now, my hardy, stout resolved mates! 340 
+Are you now going to dispatch this deed? 
+First Murd. We are, my lord; and come 
+to have the warrant, 
+That we may be admitted where he is. 
+Glou. Well thought upon; I have it here 
+about me. [Gives the warrant, 
+When you have done, repair to Crosby Place. 
+But, sirs, be sudden in the execution, 
+Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead; 
+For Clarence is well-spoken, and perhaps 
+May move your hearts to pity, if you mark him. 
+First Murd. Tush! 350 
+Fear not, my lord, we will not stand to prate; 
+Talkers are no good doers: be assured 
+We come to use our hands and not our tongues. 
+Glou. Your eyes drop millstones, when 
+fools’ eyes drop tears: 
+I like you, lads; about your business straight; 
+Go, go, dispatch. 
+First Murd. We will, my noble lord. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. London. The Tower, 
+Enter CLARENCE and BRAKENBURY. 
+
+Brak. Why looks your grace so heavily to- 
+
+day? 
+
+Clar, O, I have pass’d a miserable night, 
+So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams, 
+That, as I am a Christian faithful man, 
+
+I would not spend another such a night, 
+Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days, 
+So full of dismal terror was the time! 
+
+Brak. What was your dream? I long to 
+
+hear you tell it. 
+
+Clar. Methoughts that I had broken from 
+
+the Tower, 
+
+
+eT 
+‘i at 
+¥ 
+
+
+‘Act I, Se. IV] 
+
+
+KING RICHARD Ill 
+
+
+697 
+
+
+And was embark’d to cross to Burgundy; 10 
+And, in my company, my brother Gloucester; 
+Who from my cabin tempted me to walk 
+Upon the hatches: thence we look’d toward 
+England, 
+And cited up a thousand fearful times, 
+During the wars of York and Lancaster 
+That had befall'’n us. As we paced along 
+Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, 
+Methought that Gloucester stumbled; and, in 
+falling, 
+Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard, 
+Into the tumbling billows of the main, 20 
+Lord, Lord! methought, what pain it was to 
+drown! 
+What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears! 
+What ugly sights of death within mine eyes! 
+Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks; 
+Ten thousand men that fishes gnaw’d upon; 
+Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, 
+Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, 
+All scatter’d in the bottom of the sea: 
+Some lay in dead men’s skulls; and, in those 
+holes 
+Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept, 
+As "twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems, 31 
+Which woo’d the slimy bottom of the deep, 
+And mock’d the dead bones that lay scatter'd 
+
+
+y. 
+Brak. Had you such leisure in the time of 
+death 
+To gaze upon the secrets of the deep? 
+Clar. Methought I had; and often did I 
+strive 
+To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood 
+Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth 
+To seek the empty, vast and wandering air; 
+But smother’d it within my panting bulk, 40 
+All scatter’d in the bottom of the sea: 
+Brak. Awaked you not with this sore 
+agony > 
+Clar. O, no, my dream was lengthen’d 
+after life; 
+O, then began the tempest to my soul, 
+Who pass’d, methought, the melancholy flood, 
+With that grim ferryman which poets write of, 
+Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. 
+The first that there did greet my stranger soul, 
+Was my great father-in-law, renowned War- 
+wick; 
+' Who cried aloud, “What scourge for perjury 
+Can this dark monarchy afford false Clar- 
+ence? 
+And so he vanish’d: then came wandering by 
+A shadow like an angel, with bright hair 
+Dabbled in blood; and he squeak’d out aloud, 
+‘Clarence is come; false, fleeting, perjured 
+Clarence, 
+
+
+That stabb’d me in the field by Tewksbury; 
+
+
+Seize on him, Furies, take him to your tor- 
+ments!” 
+With that, methoughts, a legion of foul fiends 
+Environ’d me about, and howled in mine ears 
+Such hideous cries, that with the very noise 60 
+I trembling awaked, and for a season after 
+Could not believe but that I was in heil, 
+Such terriblue impression made the dream. 
+Brak. No marvel, my lord, though it af- 
+frighted you; 
+I promise you, I am afraid to hear you tell it. 
+Clar. O Brakenbury, I have done those 
+things, 
+Which now bear evidence against my soul, 
+For Edward’s sake; and see how he requites 
+me! 
+O ae if my deep prayers cannot appease 
+thee, 
+But thou wilt be avenged on my misdeeds, 70 
+Yet execute thy wrath in me alone, 
+O, spare my guiltless wife and my poor chil- 
+dren! 
+I pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me; 
+My soul is heavy, and | fain would sleep. 
+Brak. I will, my lord: God give your 
+grace good rest! [Clarence sleeps, 
+Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, 
+Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide 
+night. 
+Princes have but their titles for their glories, 
+An outward honour for an inward toil; 
+And, for unfelt imagination, 
+They often feel a world of restless cares: 
+So that, betwixt their titles and low names, 
+There ’s nothing differs but the outward fame. 
+
+
+Enter the two Murderers. 
+
+
+First Murd. Ho! who's here? 
+
+Brak. In God’s name what are you, and 
+
+how came you hither? 
+
+First Murd. 1 would speak with Clarence, 
+and I came hither on my legs. 
+
+Brak. Yea, are you so brief? 
+
+Sec. Murd. O sir, it is better to be brief 
+than tedious. Show him our commission; 
+talk no more. [Brakenbury reads it. 
+
+Brak. I am, in this, commanded to deliver 
+The noble Duke of Clarence to your hands: 
+I will not reason what is meant hereby, 
+Because I will be guiltless of the meaning. 
+Here are the keys, there sits the duke asleep: 
+I'll to the king; and signify to him 
+That thus I have resign’d my charge to you. 
+
+First Murd. Do so, it is a point of wis- 
+dom: fare you well. [Exit Brahenbury. 100 
+
+Sec. Murd. What. shall we stab him as he 
+sleeps? 
+
+First Murd. No; then he will say ‘twa: 
+done cowardly, when he wakes. 
+
+
+698 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+Sec. Murd. When he wakes! why, fool, 
+he shall never wake till the judgement-day. 
+
+First Murd. Why, then he will say we 
+stabbed him sleeping. 
+
+Sec. Murd. The urging of that word ‘judge- 
+ment’ hath bred a kind of remorse in me. 110 
+
+First Murd. What, art thou afraid? 
+
+Sec. Murd. Not to kill him, having a war- 
+rant for it; but to be damned for killing him, 
+from which no warrant can defend us. 
+
+First Murd. 1 thought thou hadst been 
+resolute, 
+
+Sec. Murd. So I am, to let him live. 
+
+First Murd. Back to the Duke of Glou- 
+cester, tell him so. 119 
+
+Sec. Murd. I pray thee, stay a while: | 
+hope my holy humour will change; ‘twas wont 
+to hold me but while one would tell twenty. 
+
+First Murd. How dost thou feel thyself 
+now > 
+
+Sec. Murd. ’Faith, some certain dregs of 
+conscience are yet within me. 
+
+First Murd. Remember our reward, when 
+the deed is done. 
+
+Sec. Murd. ‘Zounds, he dies: I had forgot 
+the reward. 
+
+First Murd. Where is thy conscience now? 
+
+Sec. Murd. In the Duke of Gloucester’s 
+purse. 131 
+
+First Murd. So when he opens his purse 
+to give us our reward, thy conscience flies out. 
+
+Sec. Murd. Let it go; there's few or none 
+will entertain it. 
+
+First Murd. How if it come to thee again ? 
+
+Sec. Murd. 1’ll not meddle with it: it is a 
+dangerous thing: it makes a man a coward: a 
+man cannot steal, but it accuseth him; he can- 
+not swear, but it checks him; he cannot lie 
+with his neighbour's wife, but it detects him: 
+‘tis a blushing shamefast spirit that mutinies in 
+a man’s bosom; it fills one full of obstacles: it 
+made me once restore a purse of gold that | 
+found; it beggars any man that keeps it: it is 
+turned out of all towns and cities for a dan- 
+gerous thing; and every man that means to 
+live well endeavours to trust to himself and to 
+live without it. 
+
+First Murd. ‘Zounds, it is even now at my 
+elbow, persuading me not to kill the duke. 150 
+
+Sec. Murd. Take the devil in thy mind 
+and believe him not: he would insinuate with 
+thee but to make thee sigh. 
+
+First Murd. Tut, I am strong-framed, he 
+cannot prevail with me, I warrant thee. 
+
+Sec. Murd. Spoke like a tall fellow that 
+respects his reputation. Come, shall we to 
+this gear? 
+
+First Murd. Take him over the costard 
+with the hilts af thy sword, and then we will 
+
+
+chop him in the malmsey-butt in the next 
+
+
+room. 161 
+Sec. Murd. O excellent device! make a 
+sop of him. 
+
+
+First Murd. Hark! he stirs: shall I strike? 
+
+Sec. Murd. No, first let’s reason with him. 
+
+Clar. Where art thou, keeper? give me a 
+cup of wine, 
+
+Sec. Murd. You shall have wine enough, 
+my lord, anon. 
+
+Clar. In God's name, what art thou? 
+
+Sec. Murd. A man, as you are. 
+
+Clar. But not, as I am, royal. 
+
+Sec. Murd. Nor you, as we are, loyal. 
+
+Clar. Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks 
+are humble. 
+
+Sec. Murd. My voice is now the king’s, 
+my looks mine own, 
+
+Clar. How darkly and how deadly dost 
+thou speak! 
+
+Your eyes do menace me: why look you pale? 
+Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you 
+
+come > 
+
+Both. To, to, to— 
+
+Clar. To murder me? 
+
+
+Both. Ay, ay. 
+
+
+170 
+
+
+Clar. You scarcely have the hearts to tell. 
+
+
+me so, 180 
+And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it. 
+Wherein, my friends, have I offended you? 
+
+First Murd. Offended us you have not, but 
+the king. 
+Clar. I shall be reconciled to him again. 
+Sec. Murd, Never, my lord; therefore pre-- 
+pare to die, 
+Clar. Are you call’d forth from out a 
+world of men 
+To slay the innocent? What is my offence? 
+Where are the evidence that do accuse me? 
+What lawful quest have given their verdict up 
+Unto the frowning jndge? or who pronounced 
+The bitter sentence of poor Clarence’ death? 
+Before I be convict by course of law, 
+To threaten me with death is most unlawful, 
+I charge you, as you hope to have redemption 
+By Christ's dear blood shed for our grievous 
+sins, 
+That you depart and lay no hands on me: 
+The deed you undertake is damnable. 
+First Murd. What we will do, we do upon 
+_. command. 
+Sec. Murd. And he that hath commanded 
+is the king. 
+Clar. Erroneous vassal! the great King of 
+
+kings 200 
+Hath in the tables of his law commanded 
+That ve shalt do no murder: and wilt thou, 
+
+then, 
+
+Spurn at his edict and fulfil a man’s? 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. i 
+
+
+Ac’ I, ‘Ser IV]. 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+699 
+
+
+Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his 
+i hands, 
+ae hurl upon their heads that break his law. 
+Sec. Murd. And that same vengeance doth 
+he hurl on thee, 
+For false forswearing and for murder too: 
+_ Thou didst receive the holy sacrament, 
+To fght in quarrel of the house of Lancaster. 
+First Murd. And, like a traitor to the name 
+
+
+of God, 210 
+Didst break that vow; and with thy treacher- 
+ous blade 
+
+
+Unrip'dst the bowels of thy sovereign’s son. 
+Sec. Murd. Whom thou wert sworn to 
+cherish and defend. 
+First Murd. How canst thou urge God's 
+< dreadful law to us, 
+
+When thou hast broke it in so dear degree? 
+Clar. Alas! for whose sake did I that ill 
+W deed? 
+
+_ For Edward, for my brother, for his sake: 
+Why, sirs, 
+
+_ He sends not yet to murder me for this; 
+
+_ For in this sin he is as deep as I. 
+
+If God will be revenged for this deed, 
+
+_ O, know you yet, he aoth it publicly: 
+Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm; 
+He needs no indirect nor lawless course 
+
+_ To cut off those that have offended him. 
+
+4 First Murd. Who made thee, then a 
+
+bloody minister, 
+
+When gallant-springing brave Plantagenet, 
+
+That princely novice, was struck dead by thee ? 
+Clar. My brother’s love, the devil, and my 
+
+. rage. 
+First Murd. Thy brother's love, our duty, 
+and thy fault, 230 
+
+Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee. 
+
+Clar. Oh, if you love my brother, hate 
+not me; 3 
+
+I am his brother, and | love him well. 
+
+If you be hired for meed, go back again, 
+
+And I will send you to my brother Gloucester, 
+
+Who shall reward you better for my life 
+
+Than Edward will for tidings of my death. 
+Sec. Murd. You are deceived, your bro- 
+
+ther Gloucester hates you. 
+
+
+220 
+
+
+Clar. O, no, he loves me, and he holds me 
+dear: 
+Go you to him from me. 
+Both. Ay, so we will 240 
+
+
+Clar. Tell him, when that our princely 
+father York 
+Bless’d his three sons with his victorious arm, 
+And charged us from his soul to love each 
+other, 
+He little thought of this divided friendship: 
+Bid Gloucester thmk of this, and he will 
+
+
+weep, 
+
+
+ae. 
+
+
+First Murd. Ay, millstones; as he les- 
+son’d us to weep. 
+Clar. O, do not slander him, for he is kind. 
+First Murd. Right, 
+As snow in harvest. Thou deceivest thyself: 
+"Tis he that sent us hither now to slaughter 
+
+
+thee. 250 
+
+Clar. t cannot be; for when I parted with 
+him, 
+
+He hugg’d me in his arms, and swore, with 
+sobs, 
+
+
+That he would Jabour my delivery, 
+Sec. Murd. Why, so he doth, now he de- 
+livers thee 
+From this world’s thraldom to the joys of 
+heaven. 
+
+First Murd. Make peace with God, for 
+
+you must die, my lord. 
+
+Clar. Hast thou that holy feeling in thy soul, 
+To counsel me to make my peace with God, 
+And art thou yet to thy own soul so blind, 
+That thou wilt war with God by murdering me? 
+Ah, sirs, consider, he that set you on 261 
+To do this deed will hate you for the deed 
+
+Sec. Murd. What shall we do? 
+
+
+Clar. Relent, and save your souls. 
+
+First Murd. Relent! ‘tis cowardly and wom- 
+anish. 
+
+Clar. Not to relent is beastly, savage, 
+
+
+devilish. 
+Which of you, if you were a prince’s son, 
+Being pent from liberty, as | am now, 
+If two such murderers as yourselves came to 
+you, 
+Would not entreat for life? 
+My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks; 270 
+O, if thine eye be not a flatterer, 
+Come thou on my side, and entreat for me, 
+As you would beg, were you in my distress: 
+A begging prince what beggar pities not? 
+Sec. Murd. Look behind you, my lord. 
+First Murd. Take that and that: if alf 
+this will not do, [Siahs him. 
+I'll drown you in the malmsey-butt within. 
+[Exit, with the body. 
+Sec. Murd. A bloody deed, and desper- 
+ately dispatch'd! 
+How fain, lke Pilate, would I wash my 
+hands 
+Of this most grievous guilty murder done! 280 
+
+
+Re-enter First Murderer. 
+
+
+First Murd. How now! what mean’st thou, 
+that thou help’st me not? 
+By heavens, the duke shall know how slack 
+thou art! 
+Sec. Murd. 1 would he knew that I had 
+saved his brother! 
+Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say; 
+
+
+700 
+
+
+For I repent me that the duke isslain. [Exit, 
+First Murd. So do not I: go, coward as 
+thou art. 
+Now must I hide his body in some hole, 
+Until the duke take order for his burial: 
+And when I have my meed, I must away; 
+For this will out, and here I must not stay. 
+
+
+[Exit. ; 
+
+
+ACT II. 
+
+
+Scene I. London. The palace, 
+
+
+Flourish. Enter Kinc Epwarp sick, QUEEN 
+EizaBETH, Dorset, Rivers, HastiNcs, 
+BuckincHaM, Grey, and others. 
+
+
+K. Edw. Why, so: 
+good day’s work: 
+
+You peers, continue this united league: 
+
+I every day expect an embassage 
+
+From my redeemer to redeem me hence; 
+
+And now in peace my soul shall part to 
+
+heaven, 
+
+Since I have set my friends at peace on earth. 
+
+Rivers and Hastings, take each other's hand; 
+
+Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love. 
+Riv. By heaven, my heart is purged from 
+
+grudging hate; 
+
+And with my hand, I seal my true heart’s love. 
+Hast. So thrive I, as I truly swear the like! 
+K. Edw. Take heed you dally not before 
+
+your king; 
+
+Lest he that is the supreme King of kings 
+
+Confound your hidden falsehood, and award 
+
+Either of you to be the other's end. 
+
+Hast. So prosper I, as I swear perfect love! 
+
+
+now I have done a 
+
+
+Riv. And I, as I love Hastings with my 
+heart! 
+
+K. Edw. Madam, yourself are not exempt 
+in this, 
+
+
+Nor your son Dorset, Buckingham, nor you; 
+You have been factious one against the other. 20 
+Wife, love Lord Hastings, let him kiss your 
+hand; 
+And what you do, do it unfeignedly. 
+Q. Eliz. Here, Hastings; I will never 
+more remember 
+Our former hatred, so thrive I] and mine! 
+K. Edw. Dorset, embrace him; Hastings, 
+love lord marquess. 
+Dor. This interchange of love, I here protest, 
+Upon my part shall be unviolable. 
+Hast. And so swear J, my lord. 
+[They embrace. 
+K. Edw. Now, princely Buckingham, seal 
+thou this league 
+With thy embracements to my wife's allies, 30 
+And make me happy in your: unity. 
+Buck. Whenever Buckingham doth turn his 
+hate 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+[Act II, Sc. I 
+
+
+On you or yours [fo the Queen], but with all 
+duteous love 
+
+Doth cherish you and yours, God punish me 
+
+With hate in those where I expect most love! 
+
+When I have most need to employ a friend, 
+
+And most assured that he is a friend, 
+
+Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile, 
+
+
+Be he unto me! this do I beg of God, 
+
+
+When I am cold in zeal to you or yours. 40 
+
+[They embrace. 
+
+K. Edw. A_ pleasing cordial, princely 
+Buckingham, ; 
+
+
+Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart. 
+There wanteth now our brother Goucester here, 
+To make the perfect period of this peace. 
+Buck. And, in good time, here comes the 
+noble duke. ‘ 
+Enter GLOucESsTER. 
+Glou. Good morrow to my sovereign king 
+and queen; 
+And, princely peers, a happy time of day! 
+K. Edw. Happy, indeed, as we have spent 
+the day. 
+Brother, we have done deeds of charity; 
+Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate, 50 
+Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers. 
+Glou. A blessed labour, my most sovereign 
+liege: 
+Amongst this princely heap, if any here, 
+By false intelligence, or wrong surmise, 
+Hold me a foe; 
+If I unwittingly, or in my rage, 
+Have aught committed that is hardly borne 
+By any in this presence, I desire 
+To reconcile me to his friendly peace: 
+"Tis death to me to be at enmity; 
+I hate it, and desire all good men’s love. 
+First, madam, I entreat true peace of you, 
+Which I will purchase with my duteous service; 
+Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham, 
+If ever any grudge were lodged between us; 
+Of you, Lord Rivers, and, Lord Grey, of you; 
+That all without desert have frown’d on me; 
+Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen; indeed, of all. 
+I do not know that Englishman alive 
+With whom my soul is any jot at odds 70 
+More than the infant that is born to-night: 
+I thank my God for my humility. 
+Q. Eliz. A holy day shall fe be kept 
+hereafter: 
+I would to God all strifes were well com- 
+pounded, 
+My sovereign liege, I do beseech your majesty 
+To take our brother Clarence to your grace. 
+Gi Why, madam, have I offer’d love for 
+this, 
+To be so flouted in this royal presence? 
+Who knows not that the noble duke is dead? 
+[They all start, 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+Ae 
+
+
+Act Il, Sc. I] 
+
+
+80 
+
+
+who 
+
+
+\ You do him injury to scorn his corse. 
+
+Riv. Who knows not he is dead! 
+knows he is? 
+
+Q. Eliz. All-seeing heaven, what a world 
+is this! 
+
+Buck. Look I so pale, Lord Dorset, as the 
+rest? 
+
+Dor. Ay, my good lord; and no one in 
+this presence 
+
+
+But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks. 
+
+
+K. Edw. Is Clarence dead? the order was 
+reversed, 
+
+Glou. But he, poor.soul, by your first order 
+died, 
+
+
+And ‘that a winged Mercury did bear; 
+Some tardy cripple bore the countermand, 
+
+' That came too lag to see him buried. 90 
+God grant that some, less noble and less loyal, 
+Nearer in bloody thoughts, but not in blood, 
+
+\. Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did, 
+And yet go current from suspicion! 
+
+
+Enter Dery. 
+
+
+Der. A boon, my sovereign, for my service 
+done! 
+K. Edw. I pray thee. peace: my soul is 
+full of sorrow. 
+Der. 1 will not rise, unless your highness 
+grant. 
+K. Edw. Then speak at once what is it 
+thou demand’st. 
+te The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's 
+ife; 
+Who slew to-day a riotous gentleman 100 
+Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk. 
+K. Edw. Have I a tongue to doom my 
+brother’s death, 
+And shall the same give pardon to a slave? 
+My brother slew no man; his fault was thought, 
+And yet his punishment was cruel death. 
+Who sued to me for him? who, in my rage, 
+Knee!'d at my feet, and bade me be advised ? 
+Who spake of brotherhood ? who spake of love? 
+Who told me how the poor soul did forsake 
+The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me? 
+
+
+Who told me, in the field by Tewksbury, 111 
+
+
+When Oxford had me down, he rescued me, 
+And said, ‘Dear brother, live, and be a king’? 
+Who told me, when we both lay in the field 
+Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me 
+Even in his own garments, and gave himself, 
+All thin'’and naked, to the numb cold night? 
+All this from my remembrance brutish wrath 
+Sinfully pluck’d, and not a man of you 
+
+Had so much grace to put ‘t in my mind. 120 
+But when your carters or your waiting-vassals 
+Have done @ drunken slaughter, and defaced 
+The precious image of our dear Redeemer, 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+701 
+
+
+You straight are on your knees for pardon, 
+pardon; 
+
+And I, unjustly too, must grant it you: 
+
+But for my brother not a man would speak, 
+Nor I, ungracious, speak unto myself 
+
+For him, poor soul. The proudest of you all 
+Have been beholding to him in his life; 
+
+Yet none of you would once plead for his life. 
+
+
+O God, I fear thy justice will take hold 131 
+
+
+| On me, and you, and mine, and yours for this! 
+
+
+Come, Hastings, help me to my closet. Oh, 
+poor Clarence! 
+[Exeunl some with King and Queen. 
+Glou. This is the fruit of rashness! 
+Mark’d you not 
+How that the guilty kindred of the queen 
+Look’d pale when they did hear of Clarence’ 
+death? 
+O, they did urge it still unto the king! 
+God will revenge it. But come, let us in, 
+To comfort Edward with our company, 
+Buck. We wait upon your grace. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene I]. The palace. 
+
+
+Enter the DucHEss oF York, with the two 
+children of CLARENCE. 
+Boy. Tell me, good grandam, is our father 
+dead? 
+Duch. No, boy. 
+Boy. Why do you wring your hands, and 
+beat your breast, 
+And cry ‘O Clarence, my unhappy son!" 
+Girl. Why do you look on us, and shake 
+your head, 
+And call us wretches, orphans, castaways, 
+If that our noble father be alive? 
+Duch. My pretty cousins, you mistake me 
+much; 
+I do lament the sickness of the king, 
+As loath to lose him, not your father’s death; 
+It were lost sorrow to wail one that’s lost. II 
+Boy. Then, grandam, you conclude that he 
+is dead. 
+The king my uncle is to blame for this: 
+God will revenge it; whom I will importune 
+With daily prayers all to that effect. 
+Girl. And so will I. 
+Duch. Peace, children, peace! the king 
+doth love you well: 
+Incapable and shallow innocents, 
+You cannot guess who caused your father’s 
+death. 
+Boy. Grandam, we can; 
+uncle Gloucester 
+Told me, the king, proveked by the queen, 
+Devised impeachments to imprison him: 
+And when my uncle told me so, he wept, 
+And hugg’d me in his arm, and kindly kiss’d 
+my cheek; 
+
+
+for my good 
+20 
+
+
+702 
+
+
+Bade me rely on him as on my father, 
+
+
+And he would love me dearly as his child. 
+
+
+KING RICHARD. III 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+[Acr Il, Se. IL. 
+
+
+May send forth plenteous tears to drown the 
+world! 70 
+
+
+Duch, Oh, that deceit should steal such | Oh for my husband, for my dear lord Edward! 
+
+
+gentle shapes, 
+And with a virtuous vizard hide foul guile! 
+He is my son; yea, and therein my shame; 
+Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit. 30 
+Boy. Think you my uncle did dissemble, 
+grandam > 
+Duch. Ay, boy. 
+Boy. I cannot think it. 
+is this? 
+
+
+Hark! what noise 
+
+
+Enter QUEEN EizaBETH, with her hair about 
+her ears; Rivers and Dorset afier her. 
+
+
+Q. Eliz. Oh, who shall hinder me to wail 
+and weep, 
+To chide my fortune, and torment myself > 
+{'ll join with black despair against my soul, 
+And to myself become an enemy. 
+
+Duch. What means this scene of rude im- 
+
+patience ? 
+
+Q. Eliz. To make an act of tragic violence: 
+Edward, my lord, your son, our king, is dead. 
+Why grow the branches now the root is wither'd ? 
+Why wither not the leaves the sap being gone? 
+If you will live, lament; if die, be brief, 
+That our swift-winged souls may catch the 
+
+king’s; 
+Or, like obedient subjects, follow him 
+To his new kingdom of perpetual rest. 
+Duch. Ah, so much interest have I in thy 
+sorrow 
+As | had title in thy noble husband! 
+I have bewept a worthy husband's death, 
+And lived by looking on his images: 50 
+But now two mirrors of his princely semblance 
+Are crack’d in pieces by malignant death, 
+And I for comfort have but one false glass, 
+‘Which grieves me when I see my shame in him. 
+Thou art a widow; yet thou art a mother, 
+And hast the comfort of thy children left thee: 
+But death hath snatch’d my husband from 
+mine arms, 
+And pluck’d two crutches from my feeble limbs, 
+Edward and Clarence. O, what cause have I, 
+Thine being but a moiety of my grief, 60 
+To overgo thy plaints and drown thy cries! 
+Boy. Good aunt, you wept not for our 
+father’s death; 
+How can we aid you with our kindred tears? 
+Girl. Our fatherless distress was left un- 
+moan’d; 
+Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept! 
+
+Q. Eliz. Give me no help in lamentation; 
+1 am not barren tobring forth complaints: 
+All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes, 
+That I, being govern’d by the watery moon, 
+
+
+Chil. Oh for our father, for our dear lord 
+Clarence! 
+Duch. Alas for both, both mme, Edward 
+and Clarence! 
+Q. Eliz. What stay hd I but Edward? and 
+he's gone, 
+Chil. What stay had we but Clarence? 
+and he's gone, 
+Duch. What stays had I but they? and 
+they are gone. 
+Q.Eliz. Wasnever widow had so dear a loss! 
+Chil. Werenever orphans had sodear a loss! 
+Duch. Was never mother had so dear a loss! 
+Alas, I am the mother of these moans! 80. 
+Their woes are parcell’d, mine are general. 
+She for an Edward weeps, and so do I; 
+I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she: 
+These babes for Clarence weep, and so do I; 
+I for an Edward weep, so do not they: 
+Alas, you three, on me, threefold distress’d, 
+Pour all your tears! I am your sorrow’s nurse, 
+And I will pamper it with lamentations. 
+Dor. Comfort, dear mother; God is much 
+displeased 
+That you take with unthankfulness his doing: 
+In common worldly things, ‘tis call’d un- 
+grateful, 91 
+With dull unwillingness to repay a debt 
+Which with a bounteous hand was kindly 
+lent; 
+Much more to be thus opposite with heaven, 
+For it requires the royal debt it lent you. 
+Riv. Madam, bethink you, like a careful 
+mother, 
+Of the young prince your son: send straight 
+for him; 
+Let him be crown'd; in him your comfort lives: 
+Drown desperate sorrow indead Edward's grave, 
+And plant your joys in living Edward's throne. 
+
+
+Enter GLoucesTER, BuckINGHAM, DERBY, 
+Hastincs, and RatcuirF. 
+
+
+Glou. Madam, have comfort: all of us 
+have cause 101 
+To wail the dimming of our shining star: 
+But none can cure their harms by wailing them, 
+Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy; j 
+I did not see your grace: humbly on my knee 
+I crave your blessing. 
+Duch. God bless thee; and put meekness in 
+thy mind, 
+Love, charity, obedience, and true duty! 
+Glou. [Aside] Amen; and make me die a 
+good old man! 
+That is the butt-end of a mother’s blessing: 
+I marvel why her grace did leave it out. 
+
+
+“Buck. You cloudy princes and heart-sor- 
+rowing peers, . 
+
+_ That bear this mutual heavy load of moan, 
+
+_ Now cheer each other in each other's love: 
+sabes we have spent our harvest of this 
+
+ing, 
+
+We are to reap the harvest of his son. 
+
+The broken rancour of your high-swoln hearts, 
+But lately splinter'd, knit, and join’d together, 
+Must gently be preserved, cherish’d, and kept: 
+
+
+_ Me seemeth good, that, with some little train, | 
+
+
+Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be 
+fetch’d 121 
+_ Hither to London, to be crown’d our king. 
+Riv. Why with some little train, my Lord 
+of Buckingham ? 
+Buck. Marry, my lord, lest, by a multitude, 
+The -new-heal’d wound of malice should 
+break out; 
+» Which would be so much the more dangerous, 
+_ By how much the estate is green and yet un- 
+govern'd: 
+_ Where every horse bears his commanding rein, 
+_ And may direct his course as please himself, 
+_ As well the fear of harm, as harm apparent, 
+In my opinion, ought to be prevented. 131 
+Glou. I hope the king made peace with 
+all of us; 
+_ And the compact is firm and true in me. 
+Riv. And so in me; and so, | think, in all: 
+Yet, since it is but green, it should be put 
+To no apparent likelihood of breach, 
+Which haply by much company might be 
+urged: 
+Therefore I say with noble Buckingham, 
+That it is meet so few should fetch the prince. 
+
+
+Hast. And so say I. 140 
+Glou. neni be it so; and go we to de- 
+term 
+
+
+Who seer “shall be that straight shall post to 
+Ludlow. 
+
+. Madam, and you, my mother, will you go 
+
+To a your censures in this weighty business > 
+
+
+-t with all our hearts. 
+
+
+[Exeunt all but Buckingham and Gloucester. 
+Buck. My lord, whoever journeys to the 
+prince, 
+For God's sake, let not us two be behind; 
+For, by the way, I'll sort occasion, 
+As index to the story we late talk’d of, 
+To part the queen's proud kindred from the 
+150 
+Glou. “My other self, my counsel’s consis- 
+tory, 
+My oracle, my prophet! My dear cousin, 
+I, like a child, will go by thy Cirection. 
+Towards Ludlow then, for we’). not stay be- 
+hind. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+703 
+Scene III. London. A street. 
+Enter two Citizens, meeling, 
+First Cit. Neighbour, well met: whither 
+
+
+away so fast? 
+Sec. Cit. I promise Li I scarcely know 
+
+
+myself: 
+Hear you the news Shera? 
+First Cit. Ay, that the king is dead. 
+Sec. Cit. Bad news, by'r lady; seldom 
+
+
+comes the better: 
+I fear, I fear ‘twill prove a troublous world. 
+
+
+Enter another Citizen. 
+
+
+Third Cit. Neighbours, God speed?! 
+First Cit. Give you good morrow, sire 
+Third Cit. Doth this news hold of good 
+
+
+King Edward’ 's death > 
+Sec. Cit. Ay, sir, it is too true; God help 
+the while! 
+Third Cit. Then, masters, look to see a 
+troublous world. 
+First Cit. No, no; by God's good grace 
+his son shall reign. 19 
+Third Cit. Woe to that land that's gov- 
+ern'd by a child! 
+Sec. Cit, In him there is a hope of govern- 
+ment, 
+That in his nonage council under him, 
+And in his full and ripen’d years himself, 
+No doubt, shall then and till then govern well. 
+First Cit. So stood the state when Henry 
+the Sixth 
+Was crown’d in Paris but at nine months old. 
+Third Cu. Stood the state so? No, no, 
+good friends, God wot; 
+For then this land was famously enrich’d 
+With politic grave counsel; then the king 20 
+Had virtuous uncles to protect his grace. 
+First Cit. Why, so hath this, both by the 
+father and mother. 
+Third Cit. Better it were they all came by 
+the father, 
+Or by the father there were none at all; 
+For emulation now, who shall be nearest, 
+Will touch us all too near, if God prevent not, 
+O, full of danger is the Duke of Gloucester! 
+And the queen’s sons and brothers haught and 
+proud: 
+And were they to be ruled, and not to rule, 
+This sickly land might solace as before. 30 
+First Cit. Come, come, we fear the werst; 
+all shall be well. 
+Third Cit. When clouds appear, wise men 
+put on their cloaks; 
+When great leaves fall, the winter is at hand: 
+When the sun sets, who doth not look for night? 
+Untimely storms make men expect a dearth. 
+
+
+All may be well; but, if God sort it so, 
+
+
+704 
+
+
+"Tis more than we deserve, or I expect. 
+Sec. Cit. Truly, the souls of men are full 
+of dread: 
+Ye cannot reason almost with a man 
+That looks not heavily and full of fear. 40 
+Third Cit. Before the times of change, still 
+1s it so: 
+By a divine instinct men’s minds mistrust 
+Ensuing dangers; as, by proof, we see 
+‘The waters swell before a boisterous storm. 
+But leave it all to God. Whither away? 
+Sec. Cit. Marry, we were sent for to the 
+
+
+justices, 
+
+Third Cit. And so was I: I'll bear you 
+company, [Exeunt. 
+Scene IV. London. The palace. 
+
+
+Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YorK, the young 
+DuKE oF YorK, QUEEN ELIZABETH, and 
+the DucHEss OF YORK. 
+
+
+Arch, Last night, I hear, they lay at 
+Northampton; 
+At Stony-Stratford will they be to-night: 
+To-morrow, or next day, they will be here. 
+Duch. I long with all my heart to see the 
+prince: 
+I hope he is much grown since last I saw him. 
+Q. Eliz. But I hear, no; they say my son 
+of York 
+Hath almost overta’en him in his growth. 
+York. Ay, mother; but I would not have 
+1t so, 
+Duch. Why, my young cousin, it is good 
+to grow. 
+York. Grandam, one night, as we did sit at 
+supper, 10 
+My uncle Rivers talk’'d how I did grow 
+More than my brother: ‘Ay,’ quoth my uncle 
+Gloucester, 
+‘Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow 
+apace:’ 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+[Acr II, Sc. IV 
+
+
+To touch his growth nearer than he touch d_ 
+mine, q 
+Duch. How, my pretty York? I pray thee, 
+let me hear it. 
+wi Marry, they say my uncle grew so 
+ast 
+That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old: 
+"Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth. 
+Grandam, this would have been a biting jest. 
+Duch, I pray thee, pretty York, who told 
+thee this? 
+York. Grandam, his nurse. 
+Duch. His nurse! why, she was dead ere 
+thou wert born. 
+York. If ‘twere not she, I cannot tell who 
+told me. 
+Q. Eliz. A parlous boy: go to, you are too’ 
+shrewd. 
+Aue: Good madam, be not angry with the 
+child. 
+Q. Eliz. Pitchers have ears, 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+Arch. Here comes a messenger. What 
+news >? 
+
+Mess. Such news, my lord, as grieves me 
+to unfold. 
+
+
+Q. Eliz. How fares the prince? 
+
+Mess. Well, madam, and in health. 40 
+
+Duch, What is thy news then? 
+
+Mess. Lord Rivers and Lord Grey are 
+
+sent to Pomfret, 
+
+With them Sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners. 
+
+Duch. Who hath committed them? 
+
+Mess. J The mighty dukes 
+Gloucester and Buckingham. 
+
+Q. Eliz. For what offence? 
+
+Mess. The sumof allI can,I have disclosed: 
+Why or for what these nobles were committed 
+Is all unknown to me, my gracious lady. 
+
+Q. Eliz. Ay me, I see the downfall of our 
+
+
+house! 
+
+
+And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast, | The tiger now hath seized the gentle hind; 50 
+Because sweet flowers are slow and weeds | Insulting tyranny begins to jet 
+
+
+make haste. 
+Duch. Good faith, good faith, the saying 
+did not hold 
+'n him that did object the same to thee: 
+H1e was the wretched’st thing when he was 
+young, 
+£0 long a-growing and so leisurely, 
+That, if this rule were true, he should be 
+gracious. 20 
+Arch. Why, madam, so, no doubt, he is. 
+Duch. I hope he is; but yet let mothers 
+doubt. 
+York. Now, by my troth, if I had been re- 
+member'd, 
+1 could have given my uncle's grace a flout, 
+
+
+Upon the innocent and aweless throne: 
+Welcome, destruction, death, and massacre! 
+I see, as in a map, the end of all. 
+
+Duch. Accursed and unquiet wrangling days, 
+How many of you have mine eyes beheld! 
+My husband lost his life to get the crown; 
+And often up and down my sons were toss’d, 
+For me to joy and weep their gain and loss: 
+And being seated, and domestic broils 60 
+Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors. 
+Make war upon themselves; blood against 
+
+blood, : 
+Self against seif: O, preposterous 
+And frantic ’ atrage, end thy damned spleen; 
+Or let me die, to look on death no more! 
+
+
+——_ 
+
+
+a 
+
+I 
+
+ f 
+a 
+
+
+Act Ili, Se. I] 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+~~ 
+
+
+Q. Eliz. Come, come, my boy; we will to 
+sanctuary. 
+Madam, farewell. 
+
+Duch. I'll go along with you. 
+
+Q. Eliz. You have no cause. 
+
+Arch. My gracious lady, go; 
+And thither bear your treasure and your goods. 
+For my part, I "Il resign unto your grace 70 
+The seal I keep: and so betide to me 
+As well I tender you and all of yours! 
+
+Come, I ‘ll conduct you to the sanctuary. 
+
+
+ACT III. 
+London. A street 
+
+
+The trumpets sound. Enter the young PRINCE, 
+the Dukes of GLoucESTER and BucKING- 
+HAM, CARDINAL BourcHIER, CATEsBY, and 
+others. 
+
+Buck. Welcome, sweet prince, to London, 
+to your chamber, 
+
+Glou. Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts’ 
+sovereign : 
+
+The weary way hath made you melancholy. 
+Prince. No, uncle; but our crosses on the 
+
+way 
+
+Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy: 
+
+I want more uncles here to welcome me. 
+Glou. Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of 
+your years 
+
+Hath not yet dived into the world’s deceit: 
+
+Nor more can you distinguish of a man 
+
+Than of his outward show; which, God he 
+
+knows, 10 
+
+Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart. 
+
+Those uncles which you want were dangerous; 
+
+Your grace attended to their sugar’d words, 
+
+But look’d not on the poison of their hearts: 
+
+God keep you from them, and from such false 
+
+friends! 
+
+Prince. God keep me from false friends! 
+but they were none. 
+
+Glou. My lord, the mayor of London 
+
+
+comes to greet you. 
+
+
+Enter the Lord Mayor, and his train. 
+
+
+Scene I, 
+
+
+May. God bless your grace with health 
+and happy days! 
+Prince. 1 thank you, good my lord; and 
+thank -you all. 
+I thought my mother, and my brother York, 
+Would, long ere this have met us on the way: 
+Fie, what a slug is Hastings, that he come not 
+To tell us whether they will come or nol! 
+
+
+Enter Lorp HastInes. 
+
+
+Buck. And. in good time, here comes the 
+sweating lord, 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+703 
+
+
+ey 
+
+
+Prince. Welcome, my lord: what, will our 
+mother come? 
+Hast. ar what occasion, God he knows, 
+not 1, 
+The queen your mother, and your brother York, 
+Have taken sanctuary: the tender prince 
+Would fain have come with me to meet your 
+grace, 
+But by his mother was perforce withheld. 30 
+Buck. Fie, what an indirect and peevish 
+course i 
+Is this of hers! Lord cardinal, will your grace 
+Persuade the queen to send the Duke of York 
+Unto his princely brother presently ? 
+If she deny, Lord Hastings, go with him, 
+And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce. 
+Card. My Lord of Buckingham, if my’ 
+weak oratory 
+Can from his mother win the Duke of York, 
+Anon expect him here; but if she be obdurate 
+To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid 40 
+We should infringe the holy privilege 
+Of blessed sanctuary! not for all this land 
+Would I be guilty of so deep a sin. 
+Buck. You are too senseless-obstinate, my 
+lord, 
+Too ceremonious and traditional: 
+Weigh it but with the grossness of this age, 
+You break not sanctuary in seizing him. 
+The benefit thereof is always granted 
+To those whose dealings have deserved the place, 
+And those who have the wit to claim the place: 
+This prince hath neither claim’d it nor de- 
+served it; 51 
+And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it: 
+Then, taking him from thence that is not there, 
+You break no privilege nor charter there. 
+Oft have I heard of sanctuary men; 
+But sanctuary children ne'er till now. 
+Card. My lord, you shall o’er-rule my 
+mind for once. 
+Come on, Lord Hastings, will you go with me? 
+Hast. 1 go, my lord. 
+Prince. Good lords, make all the speedy 
+haste you may. . 60 
+[Exeunt Cardinal and Hastings. 
+Say, uncle Gloucester, if our brother come, 
+Where shall we sojourn till our coronation? 
+Glou. Where it seems best unto your royal 
+self. 
+If I may counsel you, some day or two 
+Your highness shall repose you at the Tower: 
+Then where you please, and shall be thought 
+most fit 
+For your best health and recreation. 
+Prince. I do not like the Tower, of any place. 
+Did Julius Cesar build that place, my lord? 
+Buck. He did, my gracious lord, begin that 
+place; 70 
+
+
+706 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+[Acr III, Se. 1 
+
+
+Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified. 
+Prince. Is it upon record, or else reported 
+Successively from age to age, he built it? 
+Buck. Upon record, my gracious lord. 
+Prince. But say, my lord, it were not 
+register'd, 
+Methinks the truth should live from age to age, 
+As ‘twere retail’d to all posterity, 
+Even to the general all-ending day. 
+Glou. [Aside] So wise so young, they say, 
+do never live long. 
+Prince. What say you, uncle? 80 
+Glou. I say, without characters, fame lives 
+long. 
+[Aside] Thus, like the formal vice, Iniquity, 
+1 moralize two meanings in one word. 
+Prince. That Julius Cesar was a famous 
+man; 
+With what his valour did enrich his wit, 
+His wit set down to make his valour live: 
+Death makes no conquest of this conqueror; 
+For now he lives in fame, though not in life. 
+1°ll tell you what, my cousin Buckingham,— 
+Buck. What, my gracious lord? 90 
+Prince. An if I live until I be a man, 
+I'll win our ancient right in France again, 
+Or die a soldier, as I lived a king. 
+Glou. [Aside] Short summers lightly have 
+
+
+a forward spring. 
+
+
+Enter young Yorx, Hastincs, and the 
+CarDINAL. 
+
+
+Buck. Now, in good time, here comes the 
+Duke of York. 
+Prince. Richard of York! how fares our 
+loving brother? 
+York. Well, my dread lord; so must I call 
+you now. 
+Prince. Ay, brother, to our grief, as it is 
+yours: 
+Too late he died that might have kept that title, 
+Which by his death hath lost much majesty. 
+Glou. How fares our cousin, noble Lord 
+of York? 101 
+York. I thank you, gentle uncle. O, my lord, 
+You said that idle weeds are fast in growth: 
+The prince my brother hath outgrown me far. 
+Glou. He hath, my lord. 
+York. And therefore is he idle? 
+Glou. O, my fair cousin, I must not say so. 
+Yorks thes he is more beholding to you 
+than |, 
+
+
+York. Of my kind uncle, that I know will 
+give; : 
+And being but a toy, which is no grief to give. 
+Glou. A greater gift than that I'll give my 
+cousin. 
+York. A greater gift! O, that’s the sword 
+to it. 
+Glou. Ay, gentle cousin, were it light enough. 
+York. O, then, I see, you will part but 
+with light gifts; 
+In weightier things you'll say a beggar nay. 
+Glou. It is too heavy for your grace to 
+wear. 
+York. I weigh it lightly, were it heavier. 
+Glou. What, would you have my weapon, 
+little lord? 
+York. I would, that I might thank you as 
+you call me. 
+Glou. How? 
+York. Little. 
+Prince. My Lord of York will still be 
+cross in talk: 
+Uncle, your grace knaws how to bear with him, 
+York. You mean, to bear me, not to bear 
+with me: 
+Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me; 
+Because that I am little, like an ape, 130 
+He thinks that you should bear me on your 
+shoulders. 
+Buck. With what a sharp-provided wit he 
+reasons! 
+To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle, 
+He prettily and aptly taunts himself: 
+So cunning and so young is wonderful. 
+Glou, My lord, will ’t please you pass along? 
+Myself and my good cousin Buckingham 
+Will to your mother, to entreat of her 
+
+
+| To meet you at the Tower and welcome you, 
+
+
+York. What, will you go unto the Tower, 
+my lord? 140 
+Prince. My lord protector needs will have 
+
+
+1t so. 
+York. I shall not sleep in quiet at the 
+Tower. 
+Glou. Why, what should you fear? 
+York. Marry, my uncle Clarence’ angry ghost: 
+My grandam told me he was murder'd there. 
+Prince. I fear no uncles dead. 
+Glou. Nor none that live, I hope. 
+Prince. An if they live, I hope I need not 
+fear. | 
+But come, my lord; and with a heavy heart, 
+
+
+Glou. Hemay command measmy sovereign; | Thinking on them, go I unto the Tower. 150 
+
+
+But you have power in me as in a kinsman. 
+York. I pray you, uncle, give me this dag- 
+
+
+ger. 
+Glou. My dagger, little cousin? with all 
+my heart. 111 
+
+
+Prince. A beggar, brother? 
+
+
+[A Sennet. Exeunt all but Gloucester, 
+Buckingham and Catesby. 
+Buck. Think you, my lord, this little prat- 
+ing York 
+Was not incensed by his subtle mother 
+To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously ? 
+
+
+. 
+
+
+Il, Se. I] 
+
+
+parlous boy; 
+
+
+. Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable: 
+He is all the mother’s, from the top to toe. 
+
+
+' Buck. Well, let them rest. 
+
+
+Come: hither, 
+Catesby. 
+
+Thou art sworn as deeply to effect what we 
+intend 
+
+As closely to conceal what we impart: 159 
+
+Thou know’st our reasons urged upon the way; 
+
+
+What think’st thou? is it not an easy matter 
+
+
+To make William Lord Hastings of our mind, 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+For the instalment of this noble duke 
+In the seat royal of this famous isle? 
+Cate. He for his father’s sake so loves the 
+rince, 
+That he will not be won to aught against him. 
+Buck. What think’st thou, then, of Stanley > 
+what will he? 
+Cate. He will do all in all as Hastings doth. 
+“Buck. Well, then, no more but this: go, 
+gentle Catesby, 
+And, as it were far off, sound thou Lord 
+Hastings, 170 
+
+
+~ How -he doth stand affected to our purpose; 
+
+
+_ And summon him to-morrow to the Tower, 
+
+
+To sit about the coronation. 
+
+
+If thou dost find him tractable to us, 
+
+
+Encourage him, and show him all our reasons: 
+
+If he be leaden, icy-cold, unwilling, 
+
+Be thou so too; and so break off your talk, 
+
+And give us notice of his inclination: 
+
+For we to-morrow hold divided councils, 
+
+Wherein thyself shalt highly be employ’d. 180 
+Glou. Commend me to Lord William: tell 
+
+him, Catesby, 
+
+
+- His ancient knot of dangerous adversaries 
+~ To-morrow are let blood at Pomfret-castle; 
+
+
+And bid my friend, for joy of this good news, 
+Give Mistress Shore one gentle kiss the more. 
+Buck. Good Catesby, go effect this busi- 
+ness soundly. 
+Cate. My good lords both, with all the 
+heed I may. 
+Glou. Shall we hear from you, Catesby, 
+ere we sleep? 
+Cate. You shall, my lord. 
+Glou. At Crosby Place, there shall you 
+find us both. [Exit Catesby. 190 
+Buck. Now, my lord, what shall we do, if 
+we perceive 
+Lord Hastings will not yield to our complots? 
+Glou.Chop off his head, man; somewhat 
+we will do: 
+And, look, when I am king, claim thou of me 
+The earldom of Hereford, and the moveables 
+Whereof the king my brother stood possess’d. 
+Buck. I'll claim that promise at your 
+arace's hands. 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+KING RICHARD Ili 
+
+
+70¢ 
+
+
+i Glou. No doubt, no doubt: O, ‘tis a 
+
+
+Glou. And look to have it yielded with all 
+willingness. 
+Come, let us sup betimes, that afterwards 
+We may digest our complots in some form. 
+
+
+[Exeunt, 
+Before Lord Hastings’ house. 
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+Mess. What, ho! my lord! 
+Hast. [Within] Who knocks at the door? 
+- Mess. A messenger from the Lord Stanley, 
+
+
+Scene II. 
+
+
+Enter Lorp Hastincs. 
+
+
+Hast. What ist o'clock? 
+Mess. Upon the stroke of four. 
+Hast. Cannot thy master sleep these tedious 
+nights ? 
+Mess. So it should seem by that I have to 
+say. 
+First, ne commends him to your noble lord- 
+ship. 
+Hast. And then? 
+Mess. And then he sends you word 10 
+He dreamt to-night the boar had razed his 
+helm: 
+Besides, he says there are two councils held; 
+And that may be determined at the one 
+Which may make you and him to rue at the 
+other. 
+Therefore he sends to know your lordship’s 
+pleasure, 
+If presently you will take horse with him, 
+And with all speed post with him toward the 
+north, 
+To shun the danger that his soul divines. 
+Hast. Go, fellow, go, return unto thy lord; 
+Bid him not fear the separated councils: 20 
+His honour and myself are at the one, 
+And at the other is my servant Catesby; 
+Where nothing can proceed that toucheth us 
+Whereof I shall not have intelligence. 
+Tell him his fears are shallow, wanting in- 
+stance: 
+And for his dreams, I wonder he is so fond 
+To trust the mockery of unquiet slumbers: 
+To fly the boar before the boar pursues, 
+
+
+-| Were to incense the boar to follow us 
+
+
+And make pursuit where he did mean neo 
+chase. 
+
+Go, bid thy master rise and come to me; 31 
+
+And we will both together to the Tower, 
+
+Where, he shall see, the boar will use us 
+
+
+kindly. 
+Mess. My gracious lord, I'll tell him what 
+you say. [Exit. 
+
+
+Enter CATESBY. 
+
+
+Caic. Many good morrows to my noble 
+lord! 
+
+
+708 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+(Act III, Sc. Il 
+
+
+ee EEE 
+
+
+Hast. Good morrow, Catesby; you are} Come on, 
+
+
+early stirring: 
+What news, what news, in this our tottering 
+state > 
+Cate. It is a reeling world, indeed, my 
+lord; 
+And I believe ‘twill never stand upright 
+Till Richard wear the garland of the realm. 
+Hast. How! wear the garland! dost thou 
+mean the crown? 
+Cate. Ay, my good lord. 
+Hast. I'll have this crown of mine cut 
+from my shoulders 
+Ere I will see the crown so foul misplaced. 
+But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it? 
+Cate. Ay, on my life; and hopes to find 
+you forward 
+Upon his party for the gain thereof: 
+And thereupon he sends you this good news, 
+That this same very day your enemies, 
+The kindred of the queen, must die at Pom- 
+
+
+fret, 
+Hast. Indeed, I am no mourner for that 
+news, 51 
+
+
+Because they have been still mine enemies: 
+But, that I'll give my voice on Richard's 
+side, 
+To bar my master’s heirs in true descent, 
+God knows I will not do it, to the death. 
+Cate. God keep your lordship in that gra- 
+cious mind! 
+Hast. But I shall laugh at this a twelve- 
+month hence, 
+That they who brought me in my master’s 
+hate, 
+I live to look upon their tragedy 
+I tell thee, Catesby,— 
+Cate. What, my lord? 
+Hast. Ere a fortnight make me elder, 
+I'll send some packing that yet think not on it. 
+Cate. ‘Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious 
+lord, 
+When men are unrpepared and look not for it. 
+Hast. O monstrous, monstrous! and_ so 
+falls it out 
+With Rivers, Vaughan, Grey: and so ‘twill 
+do 
+With some men else, who think themselves 
+as safe 
+As thou and I; who, as thou know’st, are dear 
+Te princely Richard and to Buckingham. 70 
+Cate. ‘The princes both make high account 
+of you; 
+[Aside] For they account his head upon the 
+bridge. 
+Hast. 1 know they do; and I have well 
+
+
+deserved it. 
+
+
+€0 
+
+
+Enter Lorp SYANLEY. 
+
+
+come on; where is your boar-spear, 
+man > ‘ 
+Fear you the boar, and go so unprovided? 
+Stan. My lord, good morrow; good mor- 
+row, Catesby: 
+You may jest on, but, by the holy rood, 
+I do not like these several councils, I. 
+Hast. My lord, 
+I hold my life as dear as you do yours; 
+And never in my life, I do protest, 
+Was it more precious to me than ‘tis now: 
+Think you, but that I know our state secure, 
+I would be so triumphant as I am? 
+Stan. The lords at Pomfret, when they 
+rode from London, 
+Were jocund, and supposed their state was 
+sure, 
+And they indeed had no cause to mistrust; 
+But yet, you see, how soon the day o’ercast. 
+This sudden stab of rancour I misdoubt: 
+Pray God, I say, I prove a needless coward’ 
+What, shall we toward the Tower? the day 
+is spent. 
+Hast. Come, come, have with you. Wot 
+you what, my lord? 
+To-day the lords you talk of are beheaded. 
+Stan. They, for their truth, might better 
+wear their heads 
+Than some that have accused them wear their 
+hats. 
+But come, my, lord, let us away. 
+
+
+Enter a Pursuivant. 
+
+
+Hast. Go on before; I'll talk with this 
+good fellow. 
+
+* [Exeunt Stanley and Catesby. 
+
+How now, sirrah! how goes the world with 
+
+
+80 
+
+
+thee? “ 
+Purs. The better that your lordship please 
+to ask. 
+Hast. | tell thee, man, ‘tis better with mu 
+now ~ 10u 
+Than when I met thee last where now we 
+meet: 
+
+
+Then was I going prisoner to the Tower, 
+By the suggestion of the queen's allies; 
+But now, I tell thee—keep it to thyself— 
+This day those enemies are put to death, 
+And | in better state than e’er I was, 
+Purs. God hold it, to your honour’s good 
+content! 
+Hast. Gramercy, fellow: there, drink that 
+for me. [Throws him his purse. 
+Purs. God save your lordship! [Exit. 
+
+
+Enter a Priest, 
+
+
+Priest. Well met, my lord; I am glad to 
+see your honour. 116 
+
+
+Hast. 1 thank thee, good Sir John, with 
+all my heart. 
+
+
+oo” 
+
+
+_ Act III, Se. IV] 
+
+
+KING RICHARD Ill 
+
+
+709 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+I am in your debt for your last exercise; 
+Come the next Sabbath, and I will content 
+you, [He whispers in his ear. 
+
+
+Enter BuckINGHAM. 
+Buck. What, talking with a priest, lord 
+
+
+chamberlain ? 
+
+Your friends at Pomfret, they do need the 
+priest; 
+
+Your honour hath no shriving work in hand. 
+
+
+Hast. Good faith, and. when I met this |. 
+
+
+holy man, 
+Those men you talk of came into my mind, 
+What, go you toward the Tower? 
+Buck. 1 do, my lord; but long I shall not 
+stay: 120 
+I shall return before your lordship thence. 
+Hast. "Tis like enough, for I stay dinner 
+there. 
+Buck. [Aside] And supper too, although 
+thou know’st it not. 
+Come, will you go? 
+Hast. I'll wait upon your lordship. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+ScEnE III. Pomfret Castle. 
+
+Enter Sir Ricuarp RatcuirF, with halberds, 
+carrying Rivers, GREY, and VAUGHAN to 
+death. 
+
+Rat. Come, bring forth the prisoners. 
+Riv. Sir Richard Ratcliff, let me tell thee 
+this: 
+
+To-day shalt thou behold a subject die 
+
+For truth, for duty, and for loyalty. 
+
+Grey. God keep the prince from all the 
+‘pack of you! 
+
+A knot you are of damned blood-suckers, 
+
+Vaug. You live that shall cry woe for this 
+hereafter. 
+Rat. Dispatch; the limit of your lives is 
+
+
+out. 
+Riv. O Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody 
+prison, 
+Fatal and ominous to noble peers! 10 
+Within the guilty closure of thy walls 
+Richard the second here was hack’d to death; 
+And, for more slander to thy dismal seat, 
+We give thee up our guiltless blood to drink. 
+Grey. Now Margaret's curse is fall’n upon 
+our heads, 
+For standing by when Richard stabb’d her 
+son. 
+Riv. . Then cursed she Hastings, then cursed 
+she Buckingham, 
+Then ess she Richard. 
+od, 
+To hear her prayers for them, as now for us! 
+And for my sister and her princely sors, 20 
+Be satisfied, dear God, with our true blood, 
+
+
+O, remember, 
+
+
+Which, as thou know’st, unjustly must be spilt 
+Rat. Make haste; the hour of death is 
+expiate, 
+Riv. Come, Grey, come, Vaughan, let us 
+all embrace: 
+And take our leave, until we meet in heaven. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. The Tower of London. 
+
+
+Enter BuckincHaM, Dersy, Hastincs, the 
+BisHop oF Exy, Ratciirr, Lovet, with 
+others, and take their seats at a table. 
+
+
+Hast. My lords, at once: the cause why 
+we are met 
+Is, to determine of the coronation. 
+In God’s name, speak: when is the royal day ? 
+Buck. Are all things fitting for that royal 
+time ? 
+Der. It is, and wants but nomination, 
+Ely, To-morrow, then, I judge a happy 
+ay. 
+Buck. Who knows the lord protector’s 
+mind herein > 
+Who is most inward with the noble duke > 
+Ely. Your grace, we think, should soonest 
+know his mind. 
+Buck. Who, I, my lord! we know each 
+other’s faces, 10 
+But for our hearts, he knows no more of mine, 
+Than I of yours; 
+Nor I no more of his, than you of mine. 
+Lord Hastings, you and he are near in love. 
+Hast, 1 thank his grace, | know he loves 
+me well; 
+But, for his purpose in the coronation, 
+I have not sounded him, nor he deliver’d 
+His gracious pleasure any way therein: 
+But you, my noble lords, may name the time; 
+And in the duke’s behalf I ‘Il give my voice, 
+Which, I presume, he ‘Il take in gentle part. 
+
+
+Enter GLOUCESTER, 
+
+
+Ely. Now in good time, here comes the 
+duke himself. 
+Glou. My noble lords and cousins all, 
+good morrow. 
+I have been long a sleeper; but, I hope, 
+My absence doth neglect no great designs, 
+Which by my presence might have been con- 
+cluded. 
+Buck. Had not you come upon your cue, 
+my lord, 
+William Lord Hastings had pronounced your 
+part,— 
+I mean, your voice,—for crowning of the king. 
+Glou. Than my Lord Hastings no man 
+might be bolder; 30 
+His lordship knows me well, and loves me 
+well. 
+
+
+710 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+A ee’ * 
+
+
+[Acr III, Sc. V 
+
+
+——swooS SS eee 
+
+
+Hast. 1 thank your grace. 
+Glou. My lord of Ely! 
+Ely. My lord? 
+Glou. When I was last in Holborn, 
+I saw good strawberries in your garden there: 
+I do beseech you send for some of them. 
+Ely, Marry, and will, my lord, with all 
+my heart. [Exit. 
+Glou. Cousin of Buckingham, a word with 
+
+
+you. [Drawing him aside. 
+Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our busi- 
+ness, 
+
+
+And finds the testy gentleman so hot, 
+As he will lose his head ere give consent 40 
+His master’s son, as worshipful he terms it, 
+Shall lose the royalty of England’s throne. 
+Buck. Withdraw you hence, my lord, I'll 
+follow you, 
+[Exit Gloucester, Buckingham following. 
+Der. We have not yet set down this day 
+of triumph. ° 
+To-morrow, in mine opinion, is too sudden; 
+For I myself am not so well provided 
+As else I would be, were the day prolong’d. 
+
+
+Re-enter Bisuop or Ey. 
+
+
+Ely. Where is my lord protector? 
+sent for these strawberries, 
+Hast. His grace looks cheerfully 
+smooth to-day; 
+There ’s some conceit or other likes him well, 
+When he doth bid good morrow with such 
+a spirit. 
+I think there's never a. man in Christendom 
+That can less hide his love or hate than he; 
+For by his face straight shall you know his 
+heart. 
+Der. What of his heart perceive you in 
+his face 
+By any likelihood he show'd to-day ? 
+Hast. Marry, that with no man here he is 
+offended; 
+For, were he, he had shown it in his looks. 
+
+
+Der. I pray God he be not, I say. 60 
+Re-enter GLoucesTER and BuckINGHAM. 
+
+
+Glou. I pray you all, tell me what they 
+deserve 
+That do conspire my death with devilish plots 
+Of damned witchcraft, and that have prevail’d 
+Upon my body with their hellish charms? 
+Hast. The tender love I bear your grace, 
+my lord, 
+Makes me most forward in this noble presence 
+To doom the offenders, whatsoever they be: 
+I say, my lord, they have deserved death. 
+Glow. Then be your eyes the witness of 
+this ill: 
+See how | am bewitch’d; behold mine arm 70 
+Is, like a blasted sapling, wither’d up: 
+
+
+I have 
+and 
+50 
+
+
+And this is Edward's wife, that monstrous 
+witch, 
+Consorted with that harlot strumpet Shore, 
+That by their witchcraft thus have marked me. 
+Hast. If they have done this thing, my 
+gracious lord,— 
+Glou. If! thou protector of this damned 
+strumpet, 
+Tellest thou me of ‘ifs’? Thou art a traitor: 
+tellest thou me of ‘ifs’? 
+Off with his head! Now, by Saint Paul I 
+sWear, 
+I will not dine until I see the same. 
+Lovel and Ratcliff, look that it be done: 80 
+The rest, that love me, rise and follow me. 
+[Exeunt all but Hastings, Ratclif, and Lovel. 
+Hast. Woe, woe, for England! not a whit, 
+for me; 
+For I, too fond, might have prevented this. 
+Stanley did dream the boar did raze his helm; 
+But I disdain’d it, and did scorn to fly: 
+Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did 
+stumble, 
+And startled, when he look’d upon the Tower, 
+As loath to bear me to the slaughter-house. 
+O, now I want the priest that spake to me: 
+I now repent I told the pursuivant, 90 
+As "twere triumphing at mine enemies, 
+How they at Pomfret bloodily were butcher'd, 
+And I myself secure in grace and favour, 
+O Margaret, Margaret, now thy heavy curse 
+Is lighted on poor Hastings’ wretched head! 
+Rat. Dispatch, my lord; the duke would 
+be at dinner: 
+
+Make a shortsshrift; he longs to see your head, 
+Hast. O momentary grace of mortal men, 
+Which we more hunt for than the grace of 
+
+God! 
+Who builds his hopes in air of your good 
+looks, 
+Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast, 101 
+Ready, with every nod, to tumble down 
+Into the fatal bowels of the deep. 
+Lov. Come, come, dispatch; ‘tis bootless 
+. to exclaim. 
+Hast. O bloody Richard! miserable Eng- 
+land! 
+I_ prophesy the fearfull’st time to thee 
+That ever wretched age hath look’d upon. 
+Come, lead me to the block; bear him my 
+head: 
+They smile at me that shortly shall be dead. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene V. The Tower-walls. 
+Enter GioucestTer and BuckincuaM, in 
+rotten armour, marvellous ill-favoured. 
+Gloa. Come, cousin, canst thou quake, and 
+change thy colour, 
+
+
+al 
+
+
+Osea iY i , 
+— Acr Ill, Se. V] 
+
+
+set 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+"13 
+
+
+Murder thy breath in middle of a word, 
+And then begin again, and stop again, 
+As if thou wert distraught and mad with ter- 
+ror > 
+Buck. Tut, I can counterfeit the deep 
+tragedian; 
+Speak and look back, and pry on every side, 
+Tremble and start at wagging of a straw, 
+Intending deep suspicion: ghastly looks 
+Are at my service, like enforced smiles; 
+And both are ready in their offices, 
+At any time, to grace my stratagems. 
+But what, is Catesby gone? 
+Glou. He is; and, see, he brings the mayor 
+along. 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+Enter the Mayor and Catessy, 
+
+
+Buck. Lord mayor,— 
+
+Glou. Look to the drawbridge there! 
+Buck. Hark! a drum, 
+
+Glou. Catesby, o’erlook the walls. 
+
+Buck. Lord mayor, the reason we have 
+
+
+sent— 
+
+Glou. Look back, defend thee, here are 
+enemies. 
+
+Buck. God and our mnocency defend and 
+guard us! 20 
+
+Glou. Be patient, they are friends, Ratcliff 
+and Lovel. 
+
+Enter Lovet and RatcuirF, with Hastincs’ 
+ead, 
+
+Lov. Here is the head of that ignoble trai- 
+
+tor, 
+
+
+The dangerous and unsuspected Hastings. 
+Glou. So dear I loved the man, that I must 
+weep, 
+I took him for the plainest harmless creature 
+That breathed upon this earth a Christian; 
+Made him my book, wherein my soul recorded 
+‘The history of all her secret thoughts: 
+So smooth he daub’d his vice with show of 
+virtue, 
+That, his apparent open guilt omitted, 30 
+I mean, his conversation with Shore's wife, 
+He lived from all attainder of suspect. 
+Buch. Well, well, he was the covert’st 
+shelter’d traitor 
+That ever lived. 
+Would you imagine, or almost believe, 
+Were 't not that, by great preservation, 
+We live to tell it you, the subtle traitor 
+This day had plotted, in the council-house 
+To murder me and my good Lord of Glou- 
+cester > 
+May. What, had he so? 40 
+Glou. What, think you we are Turks or 
+infidels > 
+Or that we would, against the form of law, 
+
+
+Proceed thus rashly to the villain’s de 
+
+
+But that the extreme peril of the case, 
+The peace of England and our persons’ & 
+Enforced us to this execution? \ 
+May. Now, fair befall you! he deserved 
+his death; 
+And you my good lords, both have well pro- 
+ceeded, 
+To warn false traitors from the like attempts. 
+I never look’d for better at his hands, 50 
+After he once fell in with Mistress Shore. 
+Glou. Yet had not we determined he 
+should die, 
+Until your lordship came to see his death; 
+Which now the loving haste of these our 
+friends, 
+Somewhat against our meaning, have’ pre- 
+vented: 
+Because, my lord, we would have had you 
+heard ; 
+The traitor speak, and timorously confess 
+The manner and the purpose of his treason; 
+That you might well have signified the same 
+Unto the citizens, who haply may 6¢ 
+Misconstrue us in him and wail his death, 
+May. But, my good lord, your grace’s 
+word shall serve, 
+As well as I had seen and heard him speak: 
+And doubt you not, right noble princes both. 
+But I'll acquaint our duteous citizens 
+With all your just proceedings in this cause. 
+Glou. And to that end we wish'd your 
+lordship here, 
+To avoid the carping censures of the world. 
+Buck. But since you come too late of our 
+intents, 
+Yet witness what you hear we did intend: 70 
+And so, my good Jord mayor, we bid fare- 
+well. [Exit Mayor. 
+Glou. Go, after, after, cousin Buckingham, 
+The mayor towards Guildhall hies him in all 
+post: 
+There, at your meet'st advantage of the time, 
+Infer the bastardy of Edward’s children: 
+Tell them how Edward put to death a citizen, 
+Only for saying he would make his son 
+Ueir to the crown; meaning indeed his house, 
+Which, by the sign thereof, was termed so. 
+Moreover, urge his hateful luxury, 80 
+And bestial appetite in change of lust; 
+“Which stretched to their servants, daughters, 
+wives, 
+Fven where his lustful eye or savage heart, 
+Without control. listed to make his prey. 
+Nay, for a need, thus far come near my per- 
+son: 
+Tell them, when that my mother went with 
+child 
+Of that unsatiate Edward, noble’ York 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+[Acr III, Se. VII 
+
+
+My princely father then had wars in France; 
+And, by just computation of the time, 
+Found that the issue was not his begot; 
+Which well appeared in his lineaments, 
+Being nothing like the noble duke my father: 
+But touch this sparingly, as ‘twere far off; 
+Because you know, my lord, my mother lives. 
+Buck. Fear not, my lord, I'll play the 
+orator 
+As if the golden fee for which I plead 
+Were for myself: and so, my lord, adieu. 
+Glou. If you thrive well, bring them to 
+Baynard's castle; 
+Where you shall find me well accompanied 
+With reverend fathers and well-learned 
+bishops. 
+
+
+Buck. I go; and towards three or four 
+o'cloc 101 
+Look for the news that the Guildhall affords. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+Glou. Go, Lovel, with all speed to Doctor 
+Shaw; 
+[To Cate.] Go thou to Friar Penker; bid 
+them both 
+Meet me within this hour at Baynard’s Castle, 
+[Exeunt all but Cloucester. 
+Now will I in, to take some privy order, 
+To draw the brats of Clarence out of sight; 
+And to give notice, that no manner of person 
+At any time have recourse unto the princes. 
+[Exit. 
+Scene VI. The same. A street. 
+Enter a Scrivener, with a paper in his hand. 
+Scriv. This is the indictment of the good 
+Lord Hastings; 
+Which in a set hand fairly is engross'd, 
+That it may be this day read o'er in Paul's. 
+And mark how well ee sequel hangs to- 
+gether: 
+Eleven hours I spent to aie it over, 
+For yesternight by Catesby was it brought me; 
+The precedent was full as long a-doine: 
+And yet within these five hours lived Lord 
+Hastings, 
+Untainted, unexamined, free, at liberty. 
+Here ’s a good world the while! Why who's 
+sO gross, 10 
+That seeth not this palpable device? 
+Yet who's so blind, but says he sees it not? 
+Bad is the world; and all will come to nought, 
+When such bad dealing must be seen in 
+thought. [Exit. 
+
+
+Scene VII. Baynard's Castle. 
+Enter GLoucesTEeR and BUCKINGHAM, at 
+several doors. 
+Glou. How now, my lord, what say the 
+citizens ? 
+
+
+Buck. Now, by the holy mother of our 
+
+
+ord, 
+
+
+90 | The citizens are mum and speak not a word. 
+
+
+Glou. Touch’d you the bastardy of Ed- 
+ward's children ? 
+Buck. 1 did; with his contract with Lady 
+Lucy, 
+And his contract by deputy in France; 
+The insatiate greediness of his desires, 
+And his enforcement of the city wives; 
+His tyranny for trifles; his own bastardy, 
+As being got, your father then in France, 10 
+And his resemblance, being not like the duke: 
+Withal I did infer your lineaments, 
+Being the right idea of your father, 
+Both in your form and nobleness of mind; 
+Laid open all your victories in Scotland, 
+Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace, 
+Your bounty, virtue, fair humility; 
+Indeed, left nothing fitting for the purpose 
+Untouch'd, or slightly handled, in discourse: 
+And when mine oratory grew toanend, 20 
+I bid them that did love their country’s good 
+Cry “God save Richard, England's royal 
+king!" 
+Glou. Ah! and did they so? 
+Buck. No, so God help me, they spake not 
+a word; 
+But, like dumb statuas of breathing stones, 
+Gazed each on other, and look'd deadly pale. 
+Which when I saw, I reprehended them; 
+And ask’d the mayor what meant this wilful 
+silence: 
+His answer was, the people were not wont 
+To be spoke to but by the recorder. 30 
+Then he was urged to tell my tale again, 
+“Thus saith the duke, thus hath the duke in- 
+ferr’d;’ 
+But nothing spake in warrant from himself. 
+When he had done, some followers of mine 
+own, 
+At the lower end of the hall, hurl’d up their 
+caps, 
+And some ten voices cried ‘God save King 
+Richard!’ 
+And thus I took the vantage of those few, 
+“Thanks, gentle citizens and friends,’ quoth I; 
+“This general applause and loving shout 
+Argues your wisdoms and your love to Rich- 
+ard:’ 
+And even here brake off, and came away. 41 
+Glou. What tongueless blocks were they! 
+would they not speak? 
+Buck. No, by my troth, my lord. 
+Glou. Will not the mayor then and his 
+brethren come? 
+Buck. The mayor is here at hand: 
+some fear; 
+Be not you spoke with, but by mighty suit: 
+
+
+intend 
+
+
+Act Ill, Se. VII] / 
+
+
+And look you get a prayer-book in your hand, 
+And stand betwixt two churchmen, good my 
+lord; 
+For on that ground I ‘ll build a holy descant: 
+And be not easily won to our request: 50 
+Play the maid’s part, stil answer nay, and 
+take it. 
+Glou. I go; and if you plead as well for 
+them 
+As I can say nay to thee for myself, 
+No doubt we ’ll bring it to a happy issue. 
+Buck. Go, go, up to the leads; the lord 
+mayor knocks. [Exit Gloucester. 
+
+
+Enter the Mayor and Citizens. 
+
+
+Welcome, my lord: I dance attendance here; 
+
+
+I think the duke will not be spoke withal. 
+Enter CAaTEssy. 
+
+
+Here comes his servant: how now, Catesby, 
+
+
+“What says he? 
+
+
+Cate. My lord, he doth entreat your grace 
+To visit him to-morrow or next day: 60 
+He is within, with two right reverend fathers, 
+Divinely bent to meditation; 
+
+And in no worldly suit would he be moved, 
+
+To draw him from his holy exercise. 
+
+Buck. Return, good Catesby, to thy lord 
+
+again; 
+
+Tell him, myself, the mayor and citizens, 
+
+In deep designs and matters of great moment, 
+
+No less importing than our general. good, 
+
+Are come to have some conference with his 
+grace. 
+
+Cate. I'll tell him what you say, my lord. 
+
+[Exit. 
+Buck. Ah, ha, my lord, this prince is not 
+an Edward! 
+He is not lolling on a lewd day-bed, 
+But on his knees at meditation; 
+Not dallying with a brace of courtezars, 
+But meditating with two deep divines; 
+Not sleeping, to engross his idle body, 
+But praying, to enrich his watchful soul: 
+Happy were England, would this gracious 
+prince 
+Take on himself the sovereignty thereof: 
+But, sure, I fear, we shall ne’er win him to it. 
+
+May. Marry, God forbid his g:ace should 
+
+say us nay! 
+
+
+Buck. | fear he will, 
+Re-enter CATESBY. 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+How now, Catesby, what says your lord? 
+Cate. My lord. 
+He wonders to what end you have assembled 
+Such troops of citizens to speak with him, 
+His grace not being warn'd thereof before: 
+My lord, he fears you mean no good to him. 
+
+
+KING RICHARD. III 
+
+
+713 
+
+
+Buck. Sorry | am my noble cousin should 
+Suspect me, that I mean no good to him: 
+By heaven, I come in perfect love to him; 90 
+And so once more return and tell his grace. 
+
+[Exit Catesby. 
+When holy and devout religious men 
+Are at their beads, ‘tis hard to draw them 
+thence, 
+
+So sweet is zealous contemplation, 
+
+
+Enter aloft, between 
+CaTEsBY returns, 
+
+
+GLOUCESTER 
+Bishops. 
+
+
+May. See, where he stands between two 
+clergymen! 
+Buck. Two props of virtue for a Christian 
+prince, 
+To stay him from the fall of vanity: 
+And see, a book of prayer in his hand, 
+True ornaments to know a holy man. 
+Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince, 100 
+Lent favourable ears to our request; 
+And pardon us the interruption 
+Of thy devotion and right Christian zeal. 
+Glou. My lord, there needs no 
+apology: 
+I rather do beseech you pardon me, 
+Who, earnest in the service of my God, 
+Neglect the visitation of my friends. 
+But, leaving this, what is your grace’s pleas- 
+ure > 
+Buck. Even that, I hope, which pleaseth 
+God above, 
+And all good men of this ungovern’d isle. 110 
+Glou. I do suspect I have done some of- 
+fence 
+That seems disgracious in the city’s eyes, 
+And that you come to reprehend my ig- 
+norance. 
+Buck. You have, my lord: would it might 
+please your grace, 
+At our entreaties, to amend that fault! 
+Glou. Else wherefore breathe I in a Chris- 
+tian land? 
+Buck. Then know, it is your fault that you 
+resign 
+The supreme seat, the throne majestical, 
+The scepter’d office of your ancestors, 
+Your state of fortune and your due of birth, 
+The lineal glory of your royal house, 
+To the corruption of a blemish’d stock: 
+Whilst, in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts, 
+Which here we waken to our country’s good, 
+This noble isle doth want her proper limbs; 
+Her face defaced with scars of infamy, 
+Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants, 
+And almost shoulder’d in the swallowing gulf 
+Of blind forgetfulness and dark oblivion. 
+Which to recure, we heartily solicit 130 
+Your gracious self to take on you the charge 
+
+
+two 
+
+
+such 
+
+
+714 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+Tae aS FAS 
+5 v 
+i 
+
+
+[Acr Ill, Sc. VII 
+
+
+_—__ ee eee 
+
+
+And kingly government of this your land, 
+Not as protector, steward, substitute, 
+Or lowly factor for another’s gain; 
+But as successively from blood to blood, 
+Your right of birth, your empery, your own. 
+For this, consorted with the citizens, 
+Your very worshipful and loving friends, 
+And by their vehement instigation, 
+In this just suit come I to move your grace.140 
+Glou. I know not whether to depart in 
+silence, 
+Or bitterly to speak in your reproof, 
+Best fitteth my degree or your condition: 
+If not to answer, you might haply think 
+Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded 
+To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty, 
+Which fondly you would here impose on me; 
+If to reprove you for this suit of yours, 
+So season’d with your faithful love to me, 
+Then, on the other side, I check’d my friends. 
+Therefore, to speak, and to avoid the first, 151 
+. And then, in speaking, not to incur the last, 
+Defnitively thus I answer you. 
+Your love deserves my thanks; but my desert 
+Unmeritable shuns your high request, 
+First, if all obstacles were cut away, 
+And that my path were even to the crown, 
+As my ripe revenue and due. by birth; 
+Yet so much is my poverty of spirit, 
+So mighty and so many my defects, 160 
+As I had rather hide me from my greatness, 
+Being a bark to brook no mighty sea, 
+Than in my greatness covet to be hid, 
+And in the vapour of my glory smother'd. 
+But, God be thanked, there ’s no need of me, 
+And much I need to help you, if need were; 
+The royal tree hath left us royal fruit, 
+Which, mellow’d by the stealing hours of 
+time, 
+Will well become the seat of majesty, 
+And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign. 
+On him I lay what you would lay on me, 
+The right and fortune of his happy stars; 
+Which God defend that I should wring from 
+him! 
+Buck. My lord, this argues conscience in 
+your grace; 
+But the respects thereof are nice and trivial, 
+All circumstances well considered. 
+You say that Edward is your brother's son: 
+So say we too, but not by Edward's wife; 
+For first he was contract to Lady Lucy— 
+Your mother lives a winess to that vow— 180 
+And afterward by substitute betroth’d 
+To Bona, sister to the King of France. 
+These both put by, a poor petitioner, 
+A care-crazed mother of a many children, 
+A beauty-waning and distressed widow, 
+Even in the afternoon of her best days, 
+
+
+Made prize and purchase of his lustful eye, 
+Seduced the pitch and height of all his 
+thoughts 
+To base declension and loathed bigamy: 
+By her, in his unlawful bed, he got 190 
+This Edward, whom our manners term the 
+prince, 
+More bitterly could I expostulate, 
+Save that, for reverence to some alive, 
+I give a sparing limit to my tongue, 
+Then, good my lord, take to your royal self 
+This proffer'd benefit of dignity; 
+If not to bless us and the land withal, 
+Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry 
+From the corruption of abusing times, 
+Unto a lineal true-derived course. 200 
+May. Do, good my lord, your citizens en- 
+treat you. 
+Buck. Refuse not, mighty lord, this prof- 
+fer'd love. 
+Cate. O, make them joyful, grant their 
+lawful suit! 
+Glou. Alas, why would you heap these 
+cares on me? 
+I am unfit for state and majesty: 
+I do beseech you, take it not amiss; 
+I cannot nor | will not yield to you, 
+pir If you refuse it,—as, in love and 
+zeal, 
+
+
+Loath to depose the child, your brother's son; 
+
+
+As well we know your tenderness of heart 210 
+And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse, 
+Which we have noted in you to your kin, 
+And egally indeed to all estates,— 
+Yet whether you. accept our suit or no, 
+Your brother’s son shall never reign our king; 
+But we will plant some other in the throne, 
+To the disgrace and downfall of your house: 
+And in this resolution here we leave you.— 
+Come, citizens: "zounds! I ’Il entreat no more, 
+Glou. O, do not swear, my lord of Buck- 
+ingham. 
+[Exit Buckingham with the Citizens. 
+Cate. Call them again, my lord, and ac- 
+cept their suit, 221 
+Another. Do, good my lord, lest all the 
+land do rue it. 
+Glou. Would you enforce me to a world 
+of care? 
+Well, call them again. 
+stones, 
+But penetrable to your kind entreats, 
+Albeit against my conscience and my soul. 
+
+
+I am not made of 
+
+
+Re-enter BuckincHaM and _ the rest. 
+
+
+Cousin of Buckingham, and you sage, grave 
+men, 
+Since you will buckle fortune on my back, 
+
+
+To bear her burthen, whether I will or na. 
+
+
+5 AcrlViiSe: A} 
+
+
+KING RICHARD Ill 
+
+
+715 
+
+
+I must have patience to endure the load: 230] How doth the prince, and my young son of 
+
+
+But if black scandal or foul-faced reproach 
+Attend the sequel of your imposition, 
+Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me 
+From all the impure blots and stains thereof; 
+For God he knows, and you may partly see, 
+How far | am from the desire thereof. 
+May. God bless your grace! we see it, 
+and will say it. 
+Glou. In saying so, you shall but say the 
+truth. 
+Buck. Then I salute you with this kingly 
+ttle: 
+Long live Richard, England’s royal king! 240 
+May. and Cit. Amen. 
+Buck. To-morrow will it please you to be 
+crown’d? 
+Glou. Even when you please, since you 
+will have it so. 
+Buck. To-morrow, then, we mill attend 
+your grace: 
+And so most joyfully we take our leave. 
+Glou. Come, let us to our holy task again. 
+Farewell, good cousin; farewell, gentle 
+friends. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT IV. 
+
+
+Scene I. Before the Tower. 
+
+
+Enter, on one side, QueEN ELIZABETH, 
+Ducness oF YorRK, and Marquess OF 
+Dorset; on the other, ANNE, DUCHESS 
+oF GioucesTER, leading Lapy MarcareT 
+PLANTAGENET, CLARENCE’s young Daugh- 
+ter. 
+
+
+Duch. Who meets us here>? my niece 
+Plantagenet 
+Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Glou- 
+cester ? 
+Now, for my life, she’s wandering to the 
+Tower, 
+On pure heart's love to greet the tender 
+princes. 
+Daughter, well met. 
+Anne, God give your graces both 
+A happy and a joyful time of day! 4 
+Q. Eliz. As much to you,- good sister! 
+whither away? 
+Anne. No farther than the Tower; and, as 
+I guess, 
+Upon the like devotion as yourselves, 
+To gratiilate the gentle princes there. 10 
+Q. Eliz. Kind sister, thanks: we'll enter 
+all together. 
+
+
+Enter BRAKENBURY. 
+
+
+And, in good time, here the lieutenant comes. 
+Master lieutenant. pray you, by your leave, 
+
+
+York? 
+Brak. Right well, dear madam. By your 
+patience, 
+
+I may not suffer you to visit them; 
+
+The king hath straitly charged the contrary. 
+Q. Eliz. The king! why, who’s that? 
+Brak. I cry you mercy: I mean the lord 
+
+protector, 
+Q. Eliz. The Lord protect him from that 
+kingly title! 20 
+Hath he set bounds betwixt their love and me? 
+I am their mother; who should keep me from 
+
+
+them > 
+
+Duch. | am their father’s mother; I will 
+see them. 
+
+Anne. Their aunt I am in law, in love 
+
+
+their mother: 
+Then bring me to their sights; I "ll bear thy 
+blame 
+And take thy office from thee, on my peril. 
+Brak. No, madam, no; I may not leave 
+1t so: 
+I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me. 
+[Exit 
+
+
+Enter Lorp STANLEY. 
+
+
+Stan. Let me but meet you, ladies, one 
+hour hence, 
+And I'll salute your grace of York as 
+mother, 
+And reverend looker on, of two fair queens.31 
+[To Anne] Come, madam, you must straight 
+to Westminster, 
+There to be crowned Richard's royal queen. 
+Q. Eliz. O, cut my lace in sunder, that 
+my pent heart 
+May have some scope to beat, or else I swoon 
+With this dead-killing news! 
+Anne. Despiteful tidings! 
+news! 
+Dor. Be of good cheer: mother, how fares 
+your grace? 
+Q. Eliz. O Dorset, speak not to me, get 
+thee hence! 
+Death and destruction dog thee at the heels;40 
+Thy mother’s name is ominous to children. 
+If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas, 
+And “th with Richmond, from the reach of 
+hell: 
+Go, hie thee, hie thee from this slaughter- 
+house, 
+Lest thou increase the number of the dead; 
+And make me die the thrall of Margaret's 
+curse. 
+Nor mother, wife, nor England’s counted 
+queen. 
+Stan. Full of wise care is this your coun 
+sel. madam. 
+
+
+O unpleasing 
+
+
+716 
+
+
+Take all the swift advantage of the hours; 
+You shall have letters from me to my son 50 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc. Il 
+
+
+[To Anne] Go thou to Richard, and good — 
+angels guard thee! 
+
+
+To meet you on the way, and welcome you. | [To Queen Eliz.] Go thou to sanctuary, and 
+
+
+Be not ta’en tardy by unwise delay. 
+Duch. O ill-dispersing wind of misery! 
+O my accursed womb, the bed of death! 
+A cockatrice hast thou hatch’d to the world, 
+Whose unavoided eye is murderous. 
+Stan. Come, madam, come; | in all haste 
+was sent, ; 
+Anne. And I in all unwillingness will go. 
+I would to God that the inclusive verge 
+Of ‘golden metal that must round my brow 60 
+Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain! 
+Anointed let me be with deadly venom, 
+And die, ere men can say, God save the 
+queen! 
+Q. Eliz. Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy 
+glory; 
+To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm. 
+Anne. No! why? When he that is my 
+husband now 
+Came to me, as I follow’d Henry’s corse, 
+When scarce the blood was well wash'd from 
+his hands 
+Which issued from my other angel husband 
+And that dead saint which then I weeping 
+follow’d; 70 
+O, when, I say, I look’d on Richard's face, 
+This was my wish: “Be thou,’ quoth I, ‘ac- 
+cursed, 
+For making me, so young, so old a widow! 
+And, when thou wed’st, let sorrow haunt thy 
+bed; 
+And be thy wife—if any be so mad— 
+As miserable by the life of thee 
+As thou hast made me by my dear lord's 
+death!’ 
+Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again, 
+Even in so short a space, my woman's heart 
+Grossly grew captive to his honey words 80 
+And proved the subject of my own soul’s 
+curse, 
+Which ever since hath kept my eyes from rest; 
+For never yet one hour in his bed 
+Have I enjoy’d the golden dew of sleep, 
+But have been waked by his timorous dreams. 
+Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick; 
+And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me. 
+Q. Eliz. Poor heart, adieu! I pity thy 
+complaining. 
+Anne. No more than from my soul I 
+mourn for yours. 
+Q. Eliz. Farewell, thou woful welcomer 
+
+
+of glory! 90 
+Anne. Adieu, poor soul, that takest thy 
+leave of it! 
+
+
+Duch. [To Dorset] Go thou to Rich- 
+mond, and good fortune guide thee! 
+
+
+good thoughts possess thee! 
+I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with 
+me! 
+Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen, 
+And each hour's joy wreck’d with a week of 
+
+
+teen. 
+Q. Eliz. Stay, yet look back with me unto 
+the Tower. 
+
+
+Pity, you ancient stones, these tender babes 
+
+Whom envy hath immured within your walls! 
+
+Rough cradle for such little pretty ones! 101 
+
+Rude ragged nurse, old sullen playfellow 
+
+For tender princes, use my babies well! 
+
+So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewell. *' 
+[Exeunt, 
+
+
+London. 
+
+
+Sennet. Enter RicHarb, in pomp, crowned; 
+
+
+Scene II. The palace. 
+
+
+BuckincHam, Catessy, a Page, and 
+
+others. 
+
+K. Rich. Stand all apart. Cousin of 
+Buckingham! 
+
+Buck. My gracious sovereign? 
+
+K. Rich. Give me thy hand. [Here he 
+
+
+ascendeth his throne.] Thus high, by thy 
+advice 
+And thy assistance, is King Richard seated: 
+But shall we wear these honours for a day? 
+Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them? 
+Buck. Stull live they and for ever may 
+they last! 
+K. Rich. O Buckingham, now do I play 
+the touch, 
+To try if thou be current gold indeed: 
+Young Edward lives: think now what I would 
+say. 10 
+Buck. Say on, my loving lord. 
+K. Rich. Why, Buckingham, I say, | 
+would be king. 
+Buck. Why, so you are, my thrice re- 
+nowned liege. 
+K. Rich. Ha! am I king? ‘tis so: but 
+Edward lives. 
+Buck. True, noble prince. 
+
+
+K. Rich, O bitter consequence. 
+That Edward still should live! ‘True, noble 
+prince!’ 
+
+
+Cousin, thou wert not wont to be so dull: 
+
+Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead; 
+
+And I would have it suddenly perform’d. 
+
+What sayest thou? speak suddenly; be brief, 
+Buck. You grace may do your pleasure. 
+K. Rich, Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy 
+
+kindness freezeth: 
+Say, have I thy consent that they shall die> 
+
+
+if IV, Sc. II] 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+\ Buck. Give me some breath, some little 
+! pause. my lord, 
+Before I positively speak herein: 
+I will resolve your grace immediately. [Exit. 
+Cate. [Aside to stander by] The king is 
+angry: see, he bites the lip. 
+K. Rich. 1 will converse with iron-witted 
+fools 
+And unrespective boys: none are for me 
+That look into me with considerate eyes: 30 
+High-reading Buckingham grows circumspect. 
+Boy! 
+Page. My lord? 
+K. Rich. Know’st thou not any whom cor- 
+rupting gold 
+Would tempt unto a close exploit of death? 
+Page. My lord, I know a discontented gen- 
+tleman, 
+Whose humble means match not his haughty 
+\ mind: 
+Gold were as good as twenty orators, 
+And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing. 
+K, Rich. What is his name? 
+Page. His name, my lord, is Tyrrel. 
+K. Rich. I partly know the man: go, call 
+him hither. [Exit Page. 
+The deep-revolving witty Buckingham 
+No avs shall be the neighbour to my coun- 
+sel: 
+Hath he so long held out with me untired, 
+And stops he now for breath? 
+
+
+Enter STANLEY. 
+
+
+How now! what news with you? 
+Stan. My lord, I hear the Marquis Dor- 
+set ‘s fled 
+To Richmond; in those parts beyond the sea 
+Where he abides, [Stands apart. 
+K. Rich. Catesby! 
+Cate. My lord? 50 
+K. Rich. Rumour it abroad 
+That Anne, my wife, is sick and like to die: 
+{ will take order for her keeping close. 
+Inquire me out some mean-born gentleman, 
+Whom I will marry straight to Clarence’ 
+daughter: 
+The boy is foolish, and I fear not him. 
+Look, how thou dream’st! I say again, give 
+out 
+That Anne my wife is sick and like to die: 
+About it; for it stands me much upon, 59 
+To stop all hopes whose growth may damage 
+mé. [Exit Catesby. 
+I must be married to my brother’s daughter, 
+Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass. 
+Murder her brothers, and then marry her! 
+Uncertain way of gain! But I am in 
+So far in blood that sin will pluck on sin: 
+Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye. 
+
+
+717 
+Re-enter Page, with TyRREL. 
+Is thy name Tyrrel? 
+Tyr. James Tyrrel, and your most 
+
+
+obedient subject. 
+K. Rich. Art thou, indeed? 
+
+
+Tor. Prove me, my gracious sovereign. 
+K. Rich. Darest thou resolve to kill a 
+friend of mine? 70 
+
+
+Tyr. Ay, my lord; 
+But I had rather kill two enemies. 
+K. Rich. Why, there thou hast it: two 
+deep enemies, 
+Foes to my rest and my sweet sleep’s dis» 
+turbers 
+Are they that I would have thee deal upon: 
+Tyrrel, I] mean those bastards in the Tower. 
+Tyr. Let me have open means to come to 
+them, 
+And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them. 
+K. Rich. Thou sing’st sweet music. Hark, 
+come hither, Tyrrel: 
+Go, by this token: rise, and lend thine ear: 80 
+[Whispers. 
+There is no more but so: say it is done, 
+And I will love thee, and prefer thee too, 
+Tyr. "Tis done, my gracious lord. 
+K. Rich. Shall we hear from thee, Tyrrel, 
+ere we sleep? 
+Tyr. Ye shall, my lord. [Exit. 
+Re-enter BucKINGHAM. 
+
+
+Buck. My lord, I have consider’d in my 
+mind 
+The late demand that you did sound me in. 
+K. Rich. Well, let that pass. Dorset is 
+fled to Richmond. 
+Buck. | hear that news, my lord. 
+K. Rich. Stanley, he is your wife's son: 
+
+
+well, look to it. 90 
+Buck. My lord, I claim your gift, my due 
+by promise, 
+For which your honour and your faith is 
+pawn’'d; 
+
+
+The earldom of Hereford and the moveables 
+The which you promised I should possess. 
+K. Rich. Stanley, look to your wife: if 
+she convey 
+Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it. 
+
+Buck. What says your highness to my just 
+
+demand? 
+
+K. Rich. As I remember, Henry the Sixth 
+Did prophesy that Richmond should be king, 
+When Richmond was a little peevish boy. 100 
+A king, perhaps, perhaps,— 
+
+Buck. My lord! 
+
+K. Rich. How chance the prophet could 
+
+
+not at that time 
+
+
+718 
+Have told me, I being by, that I should kill 
+him? 2 
+Buck. My lord, your promise for the earl- 
+om,— 
+K. Rich. Richmond! When last I was at 
+Exeter, 
+
+
+The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle, 
+
+And call’d it Rougemont: at which name I 
+
+started, 
+
+Because a bard of Ireland told me once, 
+
+I should not live long after | saw Richmond. 
+Buck. My lord! 11 
+K. Rich. Ay, what's o'clock? 
+
+Buck. 1 am thus bold to put your grace in 
+
+
+mind 
+Of what you promised me. 
+K, Rich. Well, but what’s o'clock? 
+
+
+Buck. Upon the stroke of ten. 
+K. Rich. Well, let it strike. 
+Buck. Why let it strike? 
+K. Rich. Because that, like a Jack, thou 
+keep’st the stroke 
+Betwixt thy begging and my meditation. 
+I am not in the giving vein to-day. 
+Buck. Why, then resolve me whether you 
+will or no. 120 
+K, Rich. Tut, tut, 
+Thou troublest me; I am not in the vein. 
+[Exeunt all but Buckingham. 
+Buck. Is it even so? rewards he my true 
+service 
+With such deep contempt? made I him king 
+for this? 
+O, let me think on Hastings and be gone 
+To Brecknock, while my fearful head is on! 
+[Exit. 
+
+
+Scene III. The same. 
+Enter TyrreL. 
+
+
+Tyr, The tyrannous and bloody deed is 
+one, 
+
+The most arch act of piteous massacre 
+
+That ever yet this land was guilty of. 
+
+Dighton and Forrest, whom | did suborn 
+
+To do this ruthless piece of butchery, 
+
+Although they were flesh’d villains, bloody 
+
+
+ogs, 
+Melting with tenderness and kind compassion 
+Wept like two children in their deaths’ sad 
+stories. 
+‘Lo, thus,’ quoth Dighton, ‘lay those tender 
+babes:’ 
+‘Thus, thus,” quoth Forrest, ‘girdling one an- 
+other 1 
+Within their innocent alabaster arms: 
+Their lips were four red roses on a stalk, 
+Which in their summer beauty kiss’d each 
+other. 
+A book of prayers on their pillow lay; 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+2 
+: ; a 
+[Act IV, Sc. I: 
+
+
+Which once,’ quoth Forrest, ‘almost changed 
+
+
+my mind; 
+But O! the devil’—there the villain stopp’d; 
+Whilst Dighton thus told on: ‘We smothered 
+The most replenished sweet work of nature, 
+That from the prime creation e’er she framed.’ 
+Thus both are gone with conscience and re- 
+morse; 2 
+phen could not speak; and so I left them 
+oth, 
+To bring this tidings to the bloody king. 
+And here he comes. 
+Enter Kine RicHarp. 
+All hail, my sovereign liege! 
+K, Rich. Kind Tyrrel, am I happy in thy 
+
+
+news ? 
+
+
+Tyr. If to have done the thing you gave in 
+
+
+charge 
+Beget your happiness, be happy then, 
+For it is done, my lord. 
+
+
+K. Rich. _ But didst thou see them dead> 
+Tyr. I did, my lord. 
+K. Rich. And buried, gentle Tyrrel > 
+
+
+Tyr. The chaplain of the Tower hath 
+
+
+buried them; 
+But how cr in what place I do not know. 30 
+K. Rich. Come to me, Tyrrel, soon at 
+after supper, 
+And thou shalt tell the process of their death, 
+Meantime, but think how I may do thee 
+
+
+good, 
+And be inheritor of thy desire. 
+Farewell till soon. [Exit Tyrrel. 
+The son of Clarence have I pent up close; 
+His daughter meanly have I match’d in 
+marriage; 
+
+
+The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's 
+bosom, 
+
+And Anne my wife hath bid the world good 
+night. 
+
+
+| Now, for I know the Breton Richmond aims 
+At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter, 41 
+
+
+And, by that knot, looks proudly o’er the 
+
+
+crown, 
+To her I go, a jolly thriving wooer. 
+
+
+Enter CaTEsBy. 
+
+
+Cate. My lord. 
+K. Rich. Good news or bad, that thou 
+comest in so bluntly? 
+Cate. Bad news, my lord: Ely is fled to 
+Richmond; 
+And_ Buckingham, back’d with the hardy 
+Welshmen, 
+Is in the field, and still his power increaseth. 
+K. Rich. Ely with Richmond troubles me 
+more near 
+Than Buckingham and his rash-levied army, 
+Come, I have heard that fearful commenting 
+
+
+‘Act IV; Sc: IV] __ 
+
+
+Is leaden servitor to dull delay; 
+
+
+all 
+
+
+Delay leads impotent and snail-paced beg- 
+
+
+gary: 
+Then fiery expedition be my wing, 
+Jove’s Mercury, and herald for a king! 
+Come, muster men: my counsel is my shield; 
+We must be brief when traitors brave the 
+field. . [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Before the palace. 
+Enter QUEEN MarcGareET. 
+
+
+Q. Mar. So,now prosperity begins to mellow 
+And drop into the rotten mouth of death. 
+Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd, 
+
+To watch the waning of mine adversaries. 
+A dire induction am [ witness to, 
+
+And wili to France, hoping the consequence 
+Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical. 
+
+
+- Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret: who 
+
+
+comes here? 
+
+
+Enter QUEEN ELIzABeTH and the DucHEss 
+OF YORK. 
+
+
+Q. Eliz. Ah, my young princes! ah, my 
+tender babes! 
+My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets! 
+If yet your gentle souls fly in the air im 
+And be not fix'd in doom perpetual, 
+Hover about me with your airy wings 
+And hear your mother’s lamentation! 
+Q. Mar. Hover about her; say, that right 
+for right 
+Hath dimm’d your infant morn to aged night. 
+Duch. So many miseries have crazed my 
+voice, 
+That my woe-wearied tongue is mute and 
+umb, 
+Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead? 
+Q. Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet. 
+Edward for Edward pays a dying debt. 21 
+Q. Eliz. Wilt thou, O God, fly from such 
+gentle lambs, 
+And throw them in the entrails of the wolf? 
+When didst thou sleep when such a deed was 
+done? 
+Q. Mar. When holy Harry died, and my 
+sweet son. 
+Duch. Blind sight, dead life, poor mortal 
+living ghost, 
+Woe's scene, world’s shame, grave’s due by 
+life usurp'd, 
+Brief abstract and record of tedious days, 
+Rest thy unrest on England’s lawful earth, 
+[Sitting down. 
+Unlawfully made drunk with innocents’ blood! 
+Q. Eliz. O, that thou wouldst as well af- 
+ford a grave 31 
+As thou canst yield a meiancholy seat! 
+
+
+KING RICHARD. III 
+
+
+719 
+
+
+Then would I hide my bones, not rest them 
+here. 
+O, who hath any cause to mourn but |? 
+[Sitting down by her. 
+Q. Mar. If ancient sorrow be most rev- 
+erend, 
+Give mine the benefit of seniory, 
+And let my woes frown 2n the upper hand. 
+If sorrow can admit society, 
+[Sitting down with them. 
+Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine: 
+I had an Edward, till a Richard kill’d him; 
+I had a Harry, till a Richard kill’d him: 41 
+Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill’d 
+
+
+him; 
+Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard kill’d him. 
+Duch. | had a Richard too, and thou didst 
+kill him; 
+I had a Rutland too, thou holp’st to kill him. 
+Q. Mar. Thou hadst a Clarence too, and 
+Richard kill’d him. 
+From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept 
+A hell-hound that doth hunt us all to death: 
+That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes, 
+To worry lambs and lap their gentle blood, 50 
+That foul defacer of God’s handiwork, 
+That excellent grand tyrant of the earth, 
+That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls, 
+Thy womb let loose, to chase us to our graves. 
+O upright, just, and true-disposing God, 
+How do I thank thee, that this carnal cur 
+Preys on the issue of his mother’s body, 
+And makes her pew-fellow with others’ moan! 
+Duch, O Harry's wife, triumph not in my 
+woes! 
+God witness with me, I have wept for thine. 60 
+ar. Bear with me; I am hungry for 
+revenge, 
+And now I cloy me with beholding it. 
+Thy Edward he is dead, that stabb’d my 
+Edward; 
+Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward; 
+Young York he is but boot, because both they 
+Match not the high perfection of my loss: 
+Thy Clarence he isdead thatkill’d my Edward; 
+And the beholders of this tragic play, 
+The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, 
+Grey, 
+Untimely smother’d in their dusky graves. 70 
+Richard yet lives, hell’s black intelligencer, 
+Only reserved their factor, to buy souls 
+And send them thither: but at hand, at hand, 
+Ensues his piteous and unpitied end: 
+Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray, 
+To have him suddenly convey’d away. 
+Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray, 
+That I may live to say, The dog is dead! 
+Q. Eliz. O, thou didst prophesy the time 
+
+
+would come 
+
+
+720 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc. IV 
+
+
+That I should wish for thee to help me curse 
+That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back’d 
+toad! 81 
+Q. Mar. | call’d thee then vain flourish of 
+my fortune; 
+I call’d thee then poor shadow, painted queen; 
+The presentation of but what I was; 
+The flattering index of a direful pageant; 
+One heaved a-high, to be hurl’d down below; 
+A mother only mock’d with two sweet babes; 
+A dream of what thou wert, a breath, a bubble, 
+A sign of dignity, a garish flag, 
+To be the aim of every dangerous shot; 90 
+A queen in jest, only to fill the scene. 
+Where is thy husband now? where be thy 
+brothers ? 
+Where are thy children? wherein dost thou joy ? 
+Who sues to thee and cries ‘God save the 
+queen’ > 
+Where be the bending peers that flatter thee? 
+Where be tne thronging troops that follow’d 
+thee > 
+Decline all this, and see what now thou art: 
+For happy wife, a most distressed widow; 
+For joyful mother, one that wails the name; 
+For queen, a very caitiff crown’d with care; 
+For one being sued to, one that humbly sues; 
+For one that scorn’d at me, now scorn’d of me; 
+For one being fear’d of all, now fearing one; 
+For one commanding all, obey’d of none. 
+Thus hath the course of justice wheel’d about, 
+And left thee but a very prey to time; 
+Having no more but thought of what thou wert, 
+To torture thee the more, being what thou art. 
+Thou didst usurp my place, and dost thou not 
+Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow? 110 
+Now thy proud neck bears half my burthen’d 
+yoke; 
+From which even here I slip my weary neck, 
+And leave the burthen of it all on thee. 
+Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mis- 
+
+
+chance: 
+These English woes will make me smile in 
+France. 
+Q. Eliz. O thou well skill’d in curses, stay 
+awhile, 
+
+
+And teach me how to curse mine enemies! 
+Q. Mar. Forbear to sleep the nights, and 
+fast tne days; 
+Compare dead happiness with living woe; 
+Think that thy babes were fairer than they 
+were, 120 
+And he that slew them fouler than he is: 
+Bettering thy loss makes the bad causer worse: 
+Revolving this will teach thee how to curse. 
+Q. Eliz. My words are dull; O, quicken 
+them with thine! 
+Q. Mar. Thy woes will make them sharp, 
+and pierce like mine. (Exit. 
+
+
+Duch. Why should calamity be full of words ? 
+Q. Eliz. Windy attorneys to their client 
+woes, 
+Airy succeeders of intestate joys, 
+Poor breathing orators of miseries! 
+Let them have scope: though what they do 
+impart 130 
+Help not at all, yet do they ease the heart. 
+Duch. If so, then be not tongue-tied: go 
+with me, 
+And in the breath of bitter words let ’s smother 
+My damned son, which thy two sweet sons 
+smother'd. 
+I hear his drum: be copious in exclaims. 
+
+
+Enter Kine Ricuarp, marching, with drums 
+and trumpets. 
+
+
+K. Rich. Who intercepts my expedition? *’ 
+Duch. O, she that might have intercepted 
+thee, : 
+By strangling thee in her accursed womb, 
+From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast 
+done! 
+Q. Eliz. Hidest thou that forehead with a 
+golden crown, 140 
+Where eed be graven, if that right were 
+right, : 
+The slaughter of the prince that owed that 
+crown, 
+And the dire death of my two sons and bro- 
+thers > 
+Tell me, thou villain slave, where are my chil- 
+dren? 
+Duch. Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy 
+brother Clarence? ; 
+And little Ned Plantagenet, his son? 
+Q. Eliz. Where is kind Hastings, Rivers, 
+Vaughan, Grey? 
+K. Rich. A flourish, 
+alarum, drums! 
+Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women 
+Rail on the Lord’s anointed: strike, I say! 150 
+[Flourish. Alarums. 
+Either be patient, and entreat me fair, 
+Or with the clamorous report of war 
+Thus will I drown your exclamations. 
+Duch. Art thou my son? 
+K. Rich. Ay, I thank God, my father, and 
+yourself. 
+Duch. Then patiently hear my impatience. 
+K. Rich. Madam, I have a touch of your 
+condition, 
+Which cannot brook the accent of reproof, 
+Duch. O, let me speak! 
+K. Rich. Do then; but I ‘ll not hear. 
+Duch. I will be mild and gentle in my 
+speech. 160 
+K. Rich. And brief, good mother; for I 
+
+
+am in haste, 
+
+
+trumpets! _ strike 
+
+
+Act IV Sc. IV] 
+
+
+Duch. Art thou so hasty? I have stay'd for 
+thee, 
+God knows, in anguish, pain and agony. 
+K. Rich. And came I not at last to com- 
+fort you? 
+Duch. No, by the holy rood, thou know'st 
+it well, 
+BL. ue on earth to make the earth my 
+ell. 
+A grievous burthen was thy birth to me; 
+Tetchy and wayward thy infancy; 
+Thy school-days frightful, 
+
+
+and furious, 
+
+
+Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and 
+venturous, 170 
+
+Thy age confirm’d, proud, subtle, bloody, trea- 
+cherous, 
+
+
+More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in 
+hatred: 
+What comfortable hour canst thou name, 
+That ever graced me in thy company? 
+K. Rich. Faith, none, but Humphrey Hour, 
+that call’d your grace 
+To breakfast once forth of my company. 
+If I be so disgracious in your sight, 
+Let me march on, and not offend your grace. 
+Strike up the drum. 
+Duch. I prithee, hear me speak. 
+K. Rich You speak too bitterly. 
+Duch. ear me a word; 180 
+For | shall never speak to thee again. 
+K. Rich. So. 
+Duch. Either thou wilt die, by God's just 
+ordinance, 
+Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror, 
+Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish 
+And never look upon thy face again. 
+Therefore take with thee my most heavy curse; 
+Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more 
+Than all the complete armour that thou wear’st! 
+My prayers on the adverse party fight; 190 
+And there the little souls of Edward's chil- 
+dren 
+Whisper the spirits of thine enemies 
+And promise them success and victory. 
+Bloody thou. art, bloody will be thy end; 
+
+
+Shame serves thy life and doth thy death at-. 
+
+
+tend. [Exit. 
+Q. Eliz. Though far more cause, yet much 
+less spirit to curse 
+Abides in me; I say amen to all. 
+K. Rich. Stay, madam; I must speak a 
+word with you. 
+Q. Eliz. I have no more sons of the royal 
+blood 
+For thee to murder: for my daughters, Richard, 
+They shall be praying nuns, not weeping 
+queens; 201 
+And therefore level not to hit their lives. 
+
+
+KING RICHARD Ill 
+
+
+desperate, wild, 
+
+
+72\ 
+
+
+K. Rich. You have a daughter call’d 
+Elizabeth, j 
+Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious. 
+Q. Eliz. And must she die for this! O, let 
+her live, 
+And I'll corrupt her manners, stain her beauty ; 
+Slander myself as false to Edward's bed; 
+Throw over her the veil of infamy: 
+So she may live unscarr’d of bleeding slaughter, 
+I will confess she was not Edward’s daughter. 
+K. Rich. Wrong not her birth, she is of 
+royal blood. 211 
+liz. To save her life, I ‘Ill say she is 
+not so. 
+K. Rich. Her life is only safest in her birth, 
+Q. Eliz. And only in that safety died her 
+brothers. 
+K. Rich. Lo, at their births good stars 
+were opposite, 
+Q. Eliz. No, to their lives bad friends 
+were contrary. 
+K. Rich. All unavoided is the doom of 
+destiny. 
+Q. Eliz. True, when avoided grace makes 
+destiny: 
+My babes were destined to a fairer death, 
+If grace had bless’d thee with a fairer life. 220 
+K. Rich. You speak as if that I had slain 
+my cousins. 
+Q. Eliz. Cousins, indeed; and by their 
+uncle cozen’ 
+Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life. 
+Whose hand soever lanced their tender hearts, 
+Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction: 
+No doubt the murderous knife was dull and 
+blunt 
+Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart, 
+To revel in the entrails of my lambs. 
+But that still use of grief makes wild grief 
+tame 
+
+
+My tongue should to thy ears not name my 
+boys 230 
+
+Till that my nails were anchor'd in thine 
+eyes; 
+
+
+And I, in such a desperate bay of death, 
+Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft, 
+Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom. 
+K. Rich. Madam, so thrive I in my enter- 
+prise 
+And dangerous success of bloody wars, 
+As | intend more good to you and yours 
+Than ever you or yours were*by me wrong'd! 
+Q. Eliz. What good is cover’d with the 
+face of heaven, 
+To be discover'd, that can do me good? 240 
+K. Rick. The advancement of your chil- 
+dren, gentle lady. 
+Q. Eliz. Up to some scaffold, there to lus 
+their heads? 
+
+
+722 
+
+
+KING RICHARD Ill 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. IV__ 
+
+
+K. Rich. No, to the dignity and height of | Madest quick conveyance with her good aunt : 
+
+
+honour, 
+The high imperial type of this earth's glory. 
+Q. Eliz. Flatter my sorrows with report 
+of it; 
+Tell me what state, what dignity, what honour, 
+Canst thou demise to any child of mine? 
+K. Rich. Even all I have; yea, and myself 
+and all, 
+Will I withal endow a child of thine; 
+So in the Lethe of thy angry soul 250 
+Thou drown the sad remembrance of those 
+wrongs 
+Which thou supposest | have done to thee. 
+Q. Eliz. Be brief, lest that the process of 
+thy kindness 
+Last longer tellimg than thy kindness’ date. 
+'K. Rich. Then know, that from my soul I 
+love thy daughter. 
+Q. Eliz. My daughter’s mother thinks it 
+with her soul. 
+K. Rich. What do you think? 
+Q. Eliz. That thou dost love my daughter 
+from thy soul: 
+So from thy soul’s love didst thou love her 
+brothers; 
+K. Rich. Be not so hasty to confound my 
+meaning: 261 
+I mean, that with my soul I love thy daughter, 
+And mean to make her queen of England. 
+Q. Eliz. Say then, who dost thou mean 
+shall be her king? 
+K. Rich. Even he that makes her queen: 
+who should be else > 
+Q. Eliz. What, thou? 
+K. Rich. 1, even I: what think you of it, 
+madam >? 
+Q. Eliz. How canst thou woo her? 
+K. Rich. That would I learn of you, 
+As one that are best acquainted with her 
+humour. 
+Q. Eliz. And wilt thou learn of me? 
+K. Rich. | Madam, with all my heart. 270 
+Q. Eliz. Send to her, by the man that slew 
+her brothers, 
+A pair of bleeding hearts; thereon engrave 
+Edward and York; then haply she will weep: 
+Therefore present to her,—as sometime Mar- 
+garet 
+Did to thy father, steep’d in Rutland’s blood,— 
+A handkerchief; which, say to her, did 
+drain 
+The purvle sap from her sweet brother’s body. 
+And bid her dry her weeping eyes there- 
+with. 
+If this inducemiem force her not to love, 
+Send her a story of thy noble acts: 280 
+Tell her thou madest away her uncle Clarence, 
+Her uncle Rivers; yea, and, for her sake, 
+
+
+Anne. = 4 
+K. Rich. Come, come, you mock me; this — 
+is not the way : 
+To win your daughter. 
+Q. Eliz. There is no other way; 
+Unless thou couldst put on some other shape, 
+And not be Richard that hath done all this. 
+K. Rich, Say that I did all this for love of 
+her. 
+Q. Eliz. Nay, then indeed she cannot 
+choose but hate thee, 
+Having bought love with such a bloody spoil. 
+K. Rich. Look, what is done cannot be 
+now amended: 291 
+Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes, 
+Which after hours give leisure to repent. - 
+If I did take the kingdom from your sons, - 
+To make amends, I'll give it to your daughter. 
+If I have kill’d the issue of your womb, 
+To quicken your increase, I will beget 
+Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter: 
+A grandam’s name is little less in love 
+Than is the doting title of a mother; 300 
+They are as children but one step below, 
+Even of your mettle, of your very blood; | 
+Of all one pain, save for a night of groans 
+Endured of her; for whom you bid like 
+sorrow. 
+Your children were vexation to your youth, 
+But mine shall be a comfort to your age. 
+The loss you have is but a son being king, 
+And by that loss your daughter is made queen. 
+I cannot make you what amends I would, 
+Therefore accept such kindness as I can. 310 
+Dorset your son, that with a fearful soul 
+Leads discontented steps in foreign soil, 
+This fair alliance quickly shall call home 
+To high promotions and great dignity: 
+The king, that calls your beauteous daughter 
+wire, 
+Familiarly shall call thy Dorset brother; 
+Again shall you be mother to a king, 
+And all the ruins of distressful times 
+Repair’d with double riches of content. 
+What! we have many goodly days to see: 320 
+The liquid drops of tears that you have shed 
+Shall come again, transform’d to orient pearl, 
+Advantaging their loan with interest 
+Of ten times double gain of happiness, 
+Go, then, my mother, to thy daughter go; 
+Make bold her bashful years with your ex- 
+perience; 
+Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale; 
+Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame 
+Of golden sovereignty; acquaint the princess 
+With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys: 
+And when this arm of mine hath chastised 33] 
+The petty rebel, dull-brain'’d Buckingham, 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+Act IV, Se. {V] 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+723 
+
+
+Bound with triumphant garlands will I come 
+And lead thy daughter to a conqueror’s bed; 
+To wnom I will retail my conquest won. 
+And she shall be sole victress, Czesar’s Caesar. 
+Q. Eliz. What were I best to say? her 
+father’s brother 
+Would be her lord? or shall I say, her uncle? 
+Or, he that slew her brothers and her uncles? 
+Under what title shall I woo for thee, 340 
+That God, the law, my honour and her love, 
+Can make seem pleasing to her tender years? 
+K. Rich, Infer fair England’s peace by 
+this alliance. 
+Q. Eliz. Which she shall purchase with 
+still lasting war. 
+K. Rich. Say that the king, which may 
+command, entreats. 
+Q. Eliz. That at her hands which 
+king’s King, forbids. 
+_ K. Rich. Say, she shall be a high and 
+n mighty queen. 
+Q. Eliz. To wail the title, as her mother 
+doth. 
+K. Rich. Say, I will love her everlastingly. 
+Q. Eliz. But how long shall that title 
+‘ever’ last? 35 
+K. Rich. Sweetly in force unto her fair 
+life’s end. 
+
+Q. Eliz. But how long fairly shall her 
+sweet life last? 
+
+K. Rich. So long as heaven and nature 
+lengthens it. 
+
+Q. Eliz. So long as hell and Richard likes 
+of it. 
+
+K. Rich. Say, I, her soversign. am her 
+subject love. 
+
+Q. Eliz. But she, your subject, 
+such sovereignty. 
+
+K. Rich. Be eloquent in my behalf to her. 
+
+Q. Eliz. An honest tale speeds best being 
+plainly told. 
+
+K. Rich. Then in plain terms tell her my 
+loving tale. 
+
+
+the 
+
+
+loathes 
+
+
+Q. Eliz. Plain and not honest is too harsh 
+
+a style. 360 
+
+K. Rich. Your reasons are too shallow and 
+too quick. 
+
+Q. Eliz. O no, my reasons are too deep 
+and dead; 
+
+Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their 
+
+
+grave. 
+
+K. Rich. Harp not on that string, madam; 
+that is past. 
+
+Q. Eliz. Harp on it still shall I till heart- 
+strings break. 
+
+K. Rich. Now, by my George, my garter, 
+and my crown,— 
+
+Q. Eliz. Profaned, dishonour’d, and the 
+third usurp'd. 
+
+
+K,. Rich. 1 swear— 
+
+Q. Eliz. — By nothing; for this is no oath: 
+The George, profaned, hath lost his holy honour ; 
+The garter, blemish’d, pawn’d his knightly 
+
+virtue; 370 
+The crown, usurp’d, disgraced his kingly glory. 
+If something thou wilt swear to be believed, 
+Swear then by something that thou hast not 
+
+wrong'd. 
+
+K. Rich. Now, by the world— 
+
+Q. Eliz. ’Tis full of thy foul wrongs. 
+
+K. Rich. My father’s death— 
+
+Q.Eliz. Thy life hath that dishonour'd, 
+
+K. Rich. Then, by myself— 
+
+Q. Eliz. Thyself thyself misusest. 
+
+K. Rich. Why then, by God— 
+
+. Eliz. God’s wrong is most of all. 
+If thou hadst fear’d to break an oath by Him, 
+The unity the king thy brother made 
+Had not broken, nor my brother slain: 380 
+If thou hadst fear’d to break an oath by Him, 
+The imperial metal, circling now thy brow, 
+Had graced the tender temples of my child, 
+And both the princes had been breathing here, 
+Which now, two tender playfellows for dust, 
+
+
+0 | Thy broken faith hath made a prey for worms. 
+
+
+What canst thou swear by now? 
+K. Rich. The time to come. 
+Q. Eliz. That thou hast wronged in the 
+time o’erpast; 
+For I myself have many tears to wash 
+Hereafter time, for time past wrong’d by thee. 
+The children live, whose parents thou hast 
+slaughter’d, 391 
+Ungovern’d youth, to wail it in their age; 
+The ‘parents live, whose children thou hast 
+butcher’d, 
+Old wither’d plants, to wail it with their age. 
+Swear not by time to come; for that thou hast 
+Misused ere used, by time misused o’erpast. 
+K. Rich. As | intend to prosper and repent. 
+So thrive I in my dangerous attempt 
+Of hostile arms! myself myself confound! 
+Heaven and fortune bar me happy hours! 4006 
+Day, yield me not thy light; nor, night, thy 
+rest! 
+Be opposite all planets of good luck 
+To my proceedings, if, with pure heart's love, 
+Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts, 
+I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter! 
+In her consists my happiness and thine; 
+Without her, follows to this land and me, 
+To thee, herself, and many a Christian soul, 
+Death, desolation, ruin and decay: 
+It cannot be avoided but by this; 410 
+It will not be avoided but by this. 
+Therefore, good mother,—I must call you so— 
+Be the attorney of my love to her: 
+Plead what I will be, not what I have been; 
+
+
+724 
+
+
+KING RICHARD Ill 
+
+
+{Act IV, Sc. IV 
+
+
+Not my deserts, but what I will deserve: 
+Urge the necessity and state of times, 
+And be not peevish-fond in great designs. 
+oa Eliz. ShallI be tempted of the devil thus? 
+Recah Ay, if the devil tempt thee to do 
+
+
+ood. 
+Q. PEt. Shall I forget myself to be myself ? 
+K. Rich. Ay, if yourself’s ore 
+wrong yourself, 421 
+5 Eliz. But thou didst kill my children. 
+. Rich. But in your daughter’s womb I 
+radi them: 
+Where in that nest of spicery they shall breed 
+Selves of themselves, to your recomforture. 
+Q. Eliz. Shall I go win my daughter to thy 
+will > 
+
+
+K. Rich. And be a happy mother by the 
+
+
+deed. 
+Q. Eliz. I go. Write to me very shortly, 
+And you shall understand from me her mind. 
+K, Rich. Bear her my true love's kiss; and 
+so, farewell. [Exit Queen Elizabeth, 430 
+
+
+Relenting fool, and shallow, changing woman! 
+Enter RatcuirF; CATEsBy following. 
+
+
+How now! what news? 
+Rai. My gracious sovereign, on the western 
+coast i 
+Rideth a puissant navy; to the shore 
+Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends, 
+‘Jnarm’d, and unresolved to beat them back: 
+‘Tis thought that Richmond is their admiral; 
+‘And there they hull, expecting but the aid 
+‘Df Buckingham to welcome them ashore. 
+K. Rich. Some light-foot friend post to the 
+Duke of Norfolk: 440 
+Ratcliff, thyself, or Catesby; where is he? 
+Cate. Here, my lord. 
+K. Rich. Fly to the duke: [To Ratcliff] 
+Post thou to Salisbury: 
+When thou comest thither—[To Catesby] 
+Dull, unmindful villain, 
+‘Why stand’st thou still, and go’st not to the 
+uke? 
+Cate. First, mighty sovereign, let me know 
+your mind, 
+What from your grace I shall deliver to him. 
+K. Rich. O, true, good Catesby: bid him 
+levy straight 
+The greatest strength and power he can make, 
+And meet me presently at Salisbury. 450 
+Cate. I yo. [Exit. 
+Rat. What is’t your highness’ pleasure I 
+shall do 
+At Salisbury ? 
+K. Rich. Why, what wouldst thou do there 
+before I go? 
+Rat. Your highness told me I should post 
+before. 
+
+
+K. Rich. My mind is changed, sir, my 
+mind is changed. 
+
+
+Enter Lorp STANLEY. 
+
+
+How now, what news with you? 
+Stan. None, good my lord, to please you 
+with the hearing; 
+Nor none so bad, but it may well be told. 
+K. Rich. Hoyday, a riddle! neither sued 
+nor bad! 
+Why dost thou run so many mile about, 
+When thou mayst tell thy tale a nearer way? 
+Once more, what news? 
+Stan. Richmond is on the seas. 
+K. Rich. There let him sink, and be the 
+seas on him! 
+White-liver’d runagate, what doth he there? 
+Stan. I know not, mighty sovereign, but by 
+ess. 
+K. Rich. Well, sir, as you guess, as you 
+guess ? 
+Stan. Stirr’'d up by Dorset, Buckingham. 
+Ely, 
+He makes for England, there toclaim the crown, 
+K, Rich. Is the chair empty? is the sword 
+unsway'd > 470 
+Is the king dead? the empire unpossess’d ? 
+What heir of York is there alive but we? 
+ord: is England's king but great York's 
+eir? 
+Then, tell me, what doth he upon the sea? 
+Sian. Unless for that, my liege, I cannot 
+
+
+guess. 
+K. Rich. Unless for that he comes: to be 
+your lieges 
+You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman 
+
+
+comes, 
+Thou wilt revolt, and fly to him, I fear. 
+Stan. No, mighty liege; therefore mistrust 
+me not, 
+K. Rich. Where is thy power, then, to beat 
+him back? 
+Where are thy tenants and thy followers? 
+Are they not now upon the western shore, 
+Safe-conducting the rebels from their ships? 
+Stan. No, my good lord, my friends are in 
+the north. 
+K. Rich. Cold friends to Richard: what 
+do they in the north, 
+When they should serve 
+the west? 
+Stan. They have not 
+mighty sovereign : 
+Please it your majesty to give me leave, 
+I ‘ll muster up my friends, and meet your grace 
+Where and what time your majesty shall please, 
+K. Rich. Ay, ay, thou wouldst be gone to 
+join with Richmond: 491 
+
+
+I will not trust you, sir. 
+
+
+their sovereign in 
+
+
+been commanded, 
+
+
+—— 
+
+
+Be 
+
+
+~ Act V, Sc. I] 
+
+
+Stan. Most mighty sovereign, 
+You have no cause to hold my friendship 
+doubtful : 
+{ never was nor never will be false. 
+K. Rich. Well, 
+Go muster men; but, hear you, leave behind 
+Your son, George Stanley: look your faith be 
+rm, 
+Or else his head's assurance is but frail. 
+Stan. So deal with him as I prove true to 
+
+
+you. xil. 
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+Mess. My gracious sovereign, now in 
+
+Devonshire, 00 
+
+
+As I by friends am well advertised, 
+
+Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughty prelate 
+Bishop of Exeter, his brother there, 
+
+With inany moe confederates, are in arms. 
+
+
+Enter another Messenger. 
+_ Sec. Mess. My liege, in Kent the Guild- 
+fords are in arms; 
+And every hour more competitors 
+Flock to their aid, and still their power in- 
+creaseth, 
+Enier another Messenger. 
+
+
+Third Mess. My lord, the army of the 
+Duke of Buckingham— 
+K. Rich. Out on you, owls! nothing but 
+songs of death? [He striketh him. 
+Take that, until thou bring me better news. 
+
+
+Third Mess. The news I have te tell your 
+
+
+majesty 
+Is, that by sudden floods and fall of waters, 
+Buckingham’s army is dispersed and scatter’d; 
+And he himself wander’d away alone, 
+No man knows whither. 
+
+K, Rich. I cry thee mercy: 
+There is my purse to cure that blow of thine. 
+Hath any well-advised friend proclaim’d 
+Reward to him that brings the traitor in? 
+
+Third Mess. Such proclamation hath been 
+
+made, my liege. 
+Enter another Messenger. 
+
+
+Fourth Mess. Sir Thomas Lovel and Lord 
+Marquis Dorset, 520 
+’Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms. 
+Yet this good comfort bring I to your grace, 
+The Breton navy is dispersed by tempest: 
+Richmond, in Dorsetshire, sent out a boat 
+Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks 
+If they were his assistants, yea or no; 
+Who answer’d him, they came from Bucking- 
+ham 
+Upon his party: he, mistrusting them, 
+Hoised sail and made away for Brittany. 
+K. Rich. March on, march on, since’ we 
+are up in arms; 
+
+
+KING RICHARD IiIl 
+
+
+eee. _ 
+
+
+725 
+
+
+If not to fight with foreign enemies, 
+Yet to beat down these rebels here at home. 
+
+
+Re-enter CATESBY. 
+
+
+Cate. My liege, the Duke of Buckingham 
+is taken; 
+That is the best news: that the Earl of 
+Richmond 
+Is with a mighty power landed at Milford, 
+Is colder tidings, yet they must be told. 
+K. Rich. Away toward Salisbury! while 
+we reason here, 
+A royal battle might be won and lost: 
+Some one take order Buckingham be brought 
+To Salisbury; the rest march on with me. 540 
+[Flourish. Exeunt 
+
+
+Scene V. Lord Derby's house. 
+
+
+Enter DerBy and Sir CHRISTOPHER 
+URswIick. 
+
+
+Der. Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this 
+from me: 
+That in the sty of this-most bloody boar 
+My son George Stanley is frank’d up in hold: 
+If I revolt, off goes young George’s head; 
+The fear of that withholds my present aid. 
+But, tell me, where is princely Richmond now? 
+Chris. At Pembroke, or at Ha’rford-west, 
+in Wales. 
+Der. What men of name resort to him? 
+Chris. Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned 
+soldier; 
+Sir Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley; 
+Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, Sir James Blunt, 
+And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant crew; 
+And many moe of noble fame and worth: 
+And towards London they do bend their 
+course, 
+If by the way they be not fought withal. 
+Der. Return unto thy lord; commend me 
+
+
+to him: 
+Tell him the queen hath heartily consented 
+He shall espouse Elizabeth her daughter. 
+These letters will resolve him of my mind. 
+
+
+Farewell. [Exeunt. 20 
+
+
+ACT V. 
+
+
+Scene I. Salisbury. An open place. 
+
+
+Enter the Sheriff, and BuckincHam, with 
+halberds, led to execution. 
+
+
+Buch. Will not King Richard let me speak 
+with him >? 
+Sher. No,my good lord; therefore be patient. 
+Buck. Hastings, and Edward's children. 
+Rivers, Grey, 
+Holy King Henry, and thy fair son Edward, 
+Vaughan, and all that have miscarried 
+
+
+© | By underhand corrupted foul injustice, 
+
+
+726 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+j [Acr V, Sc. Ik 
+
+
+SSS —_— — a — eee 
+
+
+If that your moody discontented souls 
+
+Do through the clouds behold this present hour, 
+
+Even for revenge mock my destruction! 
+
+This is All-Souls’ day, fellows, is it not? 10 
+
+Sher. It is, my lord, 
+Buck. Why, then All-Souls’ day is my 
+
+body’s doomsday. 
+
+This is the day that, in King Edward's time, 
+
+I wish’d might fall on me, when I was found 
+
+False to his children or his wife's allies; 
+
+This is the day wherein I wish’d to fall 
+
+By the false faith of him I trusted most; 
+
+This, this All-Souls’ day to my fearful soul 
+
+Is the determined respite of my wrongs: 
+
+That high All-Seer that I dallied with 20 
+
+Hath turn’d my feigned prayer on my head 
+
+And given in earnest what I begg’d in jest. 
+
+Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men 
+
+To turn their own points on their masters’ 
+bosoms: 
+
+Now Margaret's curse is fallen upon my head; 
+
+“When he,’ quoth she, ‘shall split thy heart 
+with sorrow, 
+
+Remember Margaret was a prophetess.” 
+
+Come, sirs, convey me to the block of shame; 
+
+Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of 
+blame. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene Il. The camp near Tamworth. 
+
+
+Enter RicHMonp, Oxrorp, BLunt, HERBERT, 
+and others, with drum and colours. 
+Richm. Fellows in arms, and my most 
+loving friends, 
+Bruised underneath the yoke of tyranny, 
+Thus far into the bowels of the land 
+Haye we march’d on without impediment; 
+And here receive we from our father Stanley 
+Lines of fair comfort and encouragement. 
+The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar, 
+That spoil’d your summer fields and fruitful 
+vines, 
+Swills your warm blood like wash, and makes 
+his trough 
+In your embowell’d bosoms, this foul swine 10 
+Lies now even in the centre of this isle, 
+Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn: 
+From Tamworth thither is but one day's march. 
+In God's name, cheerly on, courageous friends, 
+To reap the harvest of perpetual peace 
+By this one bloody trial of sharp war. 
+Oxf. Every man’s conscience is a thousand 
+swords, 
+To fight against that bloody homicide. 
+Herb. 1 doubt not but his friends will fly 
+to us. 
+Blunt. He hath no friends but who are 
+friends for fear, 20 
+Which in his greatest need will shrink from 
+him. 
+
+
+Richm. All for our vantage. Then, in 
+God's name, march: 
+
+
+True hope is swift, and flies with swallow’s 
+
+
+wings; 
+Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures 
+kings. [Exeuni. 
+Scene II]. Bosworth Field. 
+
+
+Enter Kine RicHarpD in arms, with NoRFOLK, 
+the Eart or Surrey, and others. 
+
+
+K. Rich. Here pitch our tents, even here in 
+Bosworth field. 
+My Lord of Surrey, why look you so sad? 
+
+
+Sur. My heart is ten times lighter than ~ 
+
+
+my looks. 
+K. Rich. My Lord of Norfolk,— 
+Nor. Here, most gracious liege.:’ 
+K. Rich. Norfolk, we must have knocks; 
+ha! must we not? 
+Nor. We must both give and take, my 
+gracious lord. 
+K. Rich. Up with my tent there! here will 
+[ lie to-night; 
+But where to-morrow? Well, all ’s one for that. 
+Who hath described the number of the foe? 
+Nor. Six or seven thousand is their ut- 
+most power. 10 
+K. Rich. Why, our battalion trebles that 
+account: 
+Besides, the king’s name is a tower of strength, 
+Which they upon the adverse party want. 
+Up with my tent there! Valiant gentlemen, 
+Let us survey the vantage of the field; 
+Call for some men of sound direction: 
+Let's want no discipline, make no delay; 
+For, lords, to-morrow is a busy day. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Enter, on the other side of the field, RICHMOND, 
+Sir WILLIAM BRANDON, OxrorD, and others, 
+Some of the Soldiers pitch Richmond's tent. 
+
+
+Richm. The weary sun hath made a golden 
+
+set, 
+
+And, by the bright track of his fiery car, 20 
+
+Gives signal of a goodly day to-morrow. 
+
+Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my 
+standard. 
+
+Give me some ink and paper in my tent: 
+
+I'll draw the form and model of our battle, 
+
+Limit each leader to his several charge, 
+
+And part in just proportion our small strength, 
+
+My'Lord of Oxford, you, Sir William Brandon, 
+
+And you, Sir Walter Herbert, stay with me. 
+
+The Earl of Pembroke keeps his regiment: 
+
+Good Captain Blunt, bear my good-night to him, 
+
+And by the second hour in the morning 31 
+
+Desire the earl to see me in my tent: 
+
+Yet one thing more, good Blint, before thou 
+go’st, 
+
+
+Le 
+
+
+Act V, Se. II] 
+
+
+we 
+
+
+KING RICHARD Ill 
+
+
+727 
+
+
+Where is Lord Stanley quarter'd, dost thou| I have not that alacrity of spirit, 
+
+
+know? 
+Blunt. Unless 1 have mista’en his colours 
+much, 
+Which well I am assured I have not done, 
+His regiment lies half a mile at least 
+South from the mighty power of the king. 
+Richm. If without peril it be possible, 39 
+Good Captain Blunt, bear my good-night tohim, 
+And give him from me this most needful scroll. 
+
+
+Blunt. Upon my life, my lord, I ll under- | 
+
+
+take it; 
+And so, God give you quiet rest to-night! 
+Richm. Good night, good Captain Blunt. 
+Come, gentlemen, 
+Let us consult upon to-morrow’s business: 
+In to our tent; the air is raw and cold. 
+[They withdraw into the tent. 
+
+
+Enter, to his tent, Kinc Ricuarp, NorFo.k, 
+RatciirF, CATEsBy, and others. 
+
+
+“K. Rich. What is’t o'clock? 
+
+
+Cate, It’s supper-time, my lord; 
+It’s nine o'clock. 
+K. Rich. I will not sup to-night. 
+
+
+Give me some ink and paper. 
+What, is my beaver easier than it was? 
+And all my armour laid into my tent? 
+Cate. It is, my liege; and all things are in 
+readiness. 
+K. Rich. Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy 
+charge; 
+Use careful watch, choose trusty sentinels. 
+Nor. I go, my lord. 
+K. Rich. Stir with the lark to-morrow, 
+gentle Norfolk. 
+Nor. 1 warrant you, my lord, [Exit. 
+K. Rich. Catesby! 
+Cate. My lord? 
+K. Rich. Send out a pursuivant at arms 
+To Stanley’s regiment; bid him bring his 
+power 
+Before sunrising, lest his son George fall 61 
+Into the blind cave of eternal night. 
+[Exit Catesby. 
+Fill me a bowl of wine. Give me a watch. 
+Saddle white Surrey for the field to-morrow. 
+(Look that my staves be sound, and not too 
+heavy. * 
+Ratcliff! 
+Rat. My lord! ? 
+K. Rich. Saw’st thou the melancholy Lord 
+Northumberland ? 
+Rat. Thomas the Earl of Surrey, and 
+himself, 69 
+Much about cock-shut time, from troop to troop 
+Went through the army, cheering up the soldiers, 
+K. Rich. So, I am satisfied. Give me a 
+
+
+bowl of wine: 
+
+
+50 
+
+
+Nor cheer of mind, that I was wont to have. 
+Set it down. Is ink and paper ready ? 
+Rat. It is, my lord. 
+K. Rich. _ Bid my guard watch; leave me. 
+Ratcliff, about the mid of night come to my 
+tent 
+And help to arm me. Leave me, | say. 
+[Exeunt Ratcliff and the other Attendants. 
+
+
+Enter Dersy fo RicHMoNn»D in his tent, Lords 
+and others attending. 
+
+
+Der. Fortune and victory sit on thy helm! 
+Richm. All comfort that the dark night 
+can afford 8G 
+Be to thy person, noble father-in-law! 
+Tell me, how fares our loving mother? 
+Der. I, by attorney, bless thee from thy 
+mother, 
+Who prays continually for Richmond's good: 
+So much for that. The silent hours steal on, 
+And flaky darkness breaks within the east. 
+In brief,—for so the season bids us be,— 
+Prepare thy battle early in the morning, 
+And put thy fortune to the arbitrement 
+Of bloody strokes and mortal-staring war. 90 
+I, as | may—that which I would I cannot,— 
+With best advantage will deceive the time, 
+And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms: 
+But on thy side I may not be too forward, 
+Lest, being seen, thy brother, tender George, 
+Be executed in his father’s sight. 
+Farewell: the leisure and the fearful time 
+Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love 
+And ample interchange of sweet discourse, 
+Which so long sunder’d friends should dwel} 
+upon: 100 
+God gives us leisure for these rites of love! 
+Once more, adieu: be valiant, and speed well! 
+Richm. Good lords, conduct him to his 
+regiment: 
+I ‘ll strive, with troubled thoughts, to take a nap, 
+Lest leaden slumber peise me down to-morrow, 
+When I should mount with wings of victory: 
+Once more, good night, kind lords and 
+gentlemen. [Exeunt all but Richmond 
+O Thou, whose captain I account myself, 
+Look on my forces with a gracious eye; 109 
+Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath, 
+That they may crush down with a heavy fall 
+The usurping helmets of our adversaries! 
+Make us thy ministers of chastisement, 
+That we may praise thee in the victory! 
+To thee I do commend my watchful soul, 
+Ere I let fall the windows of. mine eyes: 
+Sleeping and waking, O, defend me still! 
+[Sleeps. 
+
+
+Enter the Ghost of Prince Epwarp, son to 
+Henry the Sixth. 
+
+
+or 
+
+
+728 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+[Acr V, Sc. III 
+
+
+Ghost. [To Richard} Let me sit heavy on 
+thy soul to-morrow! 
+Think, how thou stab’dst me in my prime of 
+youth 
+At Tewksbury: despair, therefore, and die! 
+
+
+[To Richmond] Be cheerful, Richmond; for | 
+
+
+the wronged souls 
+Of butcher’d princes fight in thy behalf: 
+King Henry’s issue, Richmond, comforts thee. 
+
+
+Enter the Ghost of Henry the Sixth. 
+Ghost. [To Richard] When | was mortal, 
+
+
+my anointed body 
+By thee was punched full of deadly holes: 
+Think on the Tower and me: despair, and die! 
+Harry the Sixth bids thee despair and die! 
+[To Richmond] Virtuous and holy, be thou 
+
+conqueror! 
+Harry, that prophesied thou shouldst be king, 
+The wronged guard by battle! live, and flour- 
+
+ish! 
+
+Enter the Ghost of CLARENCE. 
+Ghost. [To Richard] Let me sit heavy on 
+
+
+thy soul to-morrow! 
+I, that was wash’d to death with fulsome wine, 
+Poor Clarence, by thy guile betrayed to death! 
+To-morrow in the battle think on me, 
+And fall thy edgelesssword : despair, ‘and die! — 
+[fo Richmond] Thou offspring of the house 
+of Lancaster, 
+The wronged heirs of York to pray for thee: 
+Good angels guard thy battle! live, and flourish! 
+
+
+Enter the Ghosts of Rivers, GREY, and 
+VAUGHAN. 
+
+
+Ghost of R. [To Richard] Let me sit 
+heavy on thy sou! to-morrow, 
+Rivers, that died at Pomfret! despair, and 
+die! 
+Ghost of G. [To Richard] Think upon 
+Grey, and let thy soul despair! 141 
+Ghost of V. [To Richard] Think upon 
+Vaughan, and, with guilty fear, 
+Let fall thy lance: despair, and die! 
+All. [To Richmond] Awake and think our 
+wrongs in Richard’s bosom 
+Will conquer him! awake, and win the day! 
+
+
+Enter the Ghost of Hastincs. 
+Ghost. [To Richard] Bloody and guilty, 
+
+
+guiltily awake, . 
+And in a bloody battle end thy days! 
+Think on Lord Hastings: despair, and die! 
+[To Richmond] Quiet untroubled soul, awake, 
+
+
+awake! 
+Arm, fight, and conquer, for fair England’s 
+sake! 150 
+
+
+Enter the Ghosts of the two young Princes. 
+Ghosts. [To Richard] Dream on thy cous- 
+
+
+ins smother’d in the Tower: 
+
+
+| Let us be lead within thy bosom, Richard, 
+
+
+And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and 
+death! 
+
+
+| Thy nephews’ souls bid thee despair and die! 
+
+
+[To Richmond] Sleep, Richmond, sleep in 
+peace, and wake in joy; 
+
+Good angels guard thee from the boar’s annoy! 
+
+Live, and beget a happy race of kings! 
+
+Edward's unhappy sons do bid thee flourish. 
+
+Enter the Chosit of Lapy ANNE, 
+Ghost. [To Richard] Richard, thy wife, 
+
+that wretched Anne thy wife, 
+
+That never slept a quiet hour with thee, 160 
+
+Now fills thy sleep with perturbations: 
+
+To-morrow in the battle think on me, 
+
+And fall thy edgeless sword: despair, and die! 
+
+[To Richmond] Thou quiet soul, sleep thou a 
+quiet sleep; 
+
+Dream of success and happy victory! 
+
+Thy adversaty’s wife doth pray for thee. 
+
+
+Enter the Ghost of BucK1INGHAM. 
+
+
+Ghost. [To Richard] The first was I that 
+help’d thee to the crown; 
+The last was I that felt thy tyranny: 
+O, in the battle think on Buckingham, 
+And die in terror of thy guiltiness! 
+Dream on, 
+death: 
+Fainting, despair: despairing, yield thy breath! 
+[To Richmond] | died for hope ere I could 
+lend the® aid: 
+But cheer thy heart, and be thou not dismay’d: 
+God and good angels fight on Richmond's side; 
+And Richard falls in height of all his pride. 
+[The Ghosts vanish. King Richard starts 
+out of his dream. 
+K, Rich. Give me another horse: bind up 
+my’ wounds, 
+Have mercy, Jesu!—Soft! I did but dream. 
+
+
+170 
+
+
+dream on, of bloody deeds and 
+
+
+coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me! _ 
+The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight. ; 
+
+
+Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh, 
+
+
+What do I fear? myself? there 'snone else by: _ 
+
+
+Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I 
+
+
+Is there a murderer here? No. Yes, I am. 
+
+
+Then fly. What, from myself? Great reason — 
+
+
+why: 
+Lest I revenge. What, myself upon myself? 
+Alack, I love myself. Wherefore? for any 
+
+
+good 
+That I myself have done unto myself? 
+, no! alas, I rather hate myself 
+For hateful deeds committed by myself! 190 
+
+
+I am a villain: yet I lie. I am not. 
+
+
+ot 
+
+
+' 
+
+
+: 
+q 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+Acr V, Sc. Ill] 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+729 
+
+
+Fool, of thyself speak well: fool, do not flatter. 
+My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, 
+And every tongue brings in a several tale, 
+And every tale condemns me for a villain. 
+Perjury, perjury, in the high’st degree; 
+Murder, stern murder, in the direst degree; 
+All several sins, all used in each degree, 
+Throng to the bar, crying all, Guilty! guilty! 
+I shall despair. There is no creature loves me; 
+
+
+And if I die, no soul shall pity me: 201 
+
+
+Nay, wherefore should they, since that I my- 
+
+
+self 
+Find in myself no pity to myself? 
+Methought the souls of all that 1 had murder’d 
+Came to my tent; and every one did threat 
+To-morrow’s vengeance on thehead of Richard. 
+
+
+Enter RATCLIFF. 
+
+
+Rat. My lord! 
+K. Rich. "Zounds! who is there? 
+Rat, Ratcliff, my lord; ‘tis I. 
+village-cock 
+Hath twice done salutation to the morn; 210 
+Your friends are up, and buckle on their 
+armour. 
+K. Rich. O Ratcliff, I have dream’d a 
+fearful dream! 
+What thinkest thou, will our friends prove all 
+
+
+The early 
+
+
+true? 
+Rat. No doubt, my lord. 
+K. Rich. O Ratcliff, I fear, I fear,— 
+
+
+Rat. Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of 
+shadows. 
+K. Rich. By the apostle Paul, shadows to- 
+night 
+Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard 
+Than can the substance of ten thousand sol- 
+diers 
+Armed in proof, and led by shallow Richmond. 
+It is not yet near day. Come, gowithme; 220 
+Under our tents I "Il play the eaves-dropper, 
+To see if any mean to shrink from me. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Enter the Lords to RicHMOND, silting in his 
+tent. 
+
+
+Lords. Good morrow, Richmond! 
+Richm. Cry mercy, lords and watchful 
+gentlemen, 
+
+That you have ta’en a tardy sluggard here. 
+Lords. How have you slept, my lord? 
+Richm. The sweetest sleep, and fairest- 
+
+boding dreams 
+
+That ever enter’'d in a drowsy head, 
+
+Have I since your departure had, my lords. 
+
+Methought their souls, whose bodies Richard 
+
+murder’d, 230 
+
+Came to my tent, and cried on victory : 
+
+I promise you, my soul is very jocund 
+
+In the remembrance of so fair a dream. 
+
+
+How far into the morning is it, lords? 
+
+
+Lords. Upon the stroke of four. 
+Richm. Why, then ‘tis time to arm and 
+give direction, 
+
+
+His oration to his soldiers. 
+
+
+More than I have said, loving countrymen, 
+
+The leisure and enforcement of the time 
+
+Forbids to dwell upon: yet remember this, 
+
+God and our good cause fight upon our side; 
+
+The prayers of holy saints and wronged souls, 
+
+Like high-rear’d bulwarks, stand before our 
+faces; 
+
+Richard except, those whom we fight against 
+
+Had rather have us win than him they. follow: 
+
+For what is he they follow? truly, gentlemen, 
+
+A bloody tyrant and a homicide; 
+
+One raised in blood, and one in blood estab- 
+lish’d; 
+
+One ubat made means to come by what he 
+ath, 
+
+And slaughter’d those that were the means to 
+help him; 
+
+A base foul stone, made precious by the foil 
+
+Of England's chair, where he is falsely set; 
+
+One that hath ever been God’s enemy: 
+
+Then, if you fight against God’s enemy, 
+
+God will in justice ward you as his soldiers; 
+
+If you do sweat to put a tyrant down, 
+
+You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain; 
+
+If you do fight against your country’s foes, 
+
+Your country’s fat shall pay your pains the hire; 
+
+If you do fight in safeguard of your wives, 259 
+
+Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors; 
+
+If you do free your children from the sword, 
+
+Your children’s children quit it in your age. 
+
+Then, in the name of God and all these rights, 
+
+Advance your standards, ‘draw your willing 
+swords. 
+
+For me, the ransom of my bold attempt 
+
+Shall be this cold corpse on the earth’s cold 
+face; 
+
+But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt 
+
+The least of you shall share his part thereof. 
+
+pee ee and trumpets boldly and cheer- 
+ully ; 
+
+God and Saint George! Richmond and victory! 
+
+[Exeunt. 270 
+
+
+Re-enter Kinc RicHarp, RATCLIFF, Altend- 
+ants and Forces. 
+
+
+K. Rich. What said Northumberland as 
+touching Richmond? 
+
+Rat. That he was never trained up in arms. 
+
+K. Rich. He said the truth: and what said 
+Surrey then? 
+
+Rat. He smiled and said “The better for 
+our purpose 
+
+K. Rich. He was in the right: and so in< 
+deed it is. [Clock striketh, 
+
+
+‘730° 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+{Act V, Sc. IV 
+
+
+Tell the clock there. Give me a calendar, 
+Who saw the sun to-day? 
+
+Rat. Not I, my lord. 
+
+K. Rich. Then he disdains to shine; for by 
+
+the book 
+
+He should have braved the east an hour ago: 
+A black day will it be to somebody. 280 
+Ratcliff! 
+
+Rat. My lord? 
+
+K. Rich. The sun will not be seen to-day; 
+The sky doth frown and lour upon our army, 
+{ would these dewy tears were from the 
+
+ground. 
+Not shine to-day! Why, what is that to me 
+More than to Richmond? for the selfsame 
+heaven 
+That frowns on me looks sadly upon him. 
+
+
+Enter Norrouk. 
+
+
+Nor. Arm, arm, my lord; the foe vaunts in 
+the field. 
+K, Rich. Come, bustle, bustle; caparison 
+my horse. 
+Call up Lord Stanley, bid him bring his power: 
+I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain, 291 
+And thus my battle shall be ordered: 
+My foreward shall be drawn out all in length, 
+Consisting equally of horse and foot; 
+Our archers shall be placed in the midst: 
+John Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Earl of Surrey, 
+Shall have the leading of this foot and horse. 
+_ They thus directed, we will follow 
+In the main battle, whose puissance on either 
+side 
+Shall be well winged with our chiefest horse. 
+This, and Saint George to boot! What 
+think’st thou, Norfolk? 301 
+Nor. A good direction, warlike sovereign. 
+This found I on my ‘tent this morning. 
+THe sheweth him a paper. 
+K. Rich. [Reads]' ‘Jockey of Norfolk, be 
+not too bold, 
+For Dickon thy master is bought and sold.’ 
+A thing devised by the enemy. 
+Go, gentlemen, every man unto his charge: 
+Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls: 
+Conscience is but a word that cowards use. 
+Devised at first to keep the strong in awe: 310 
+Our strong arms be our conscience, swords 
+our law. 
+March on, join bravely, let us tot pell-mell; 
+Tf not to heaven, then hand. in hand to hell. 
+
+
+His oration to his Army, 
+
+
+What shall I say more than I have inferr’d? 
+Remember whom you are to cope withal; 
+
+A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and runaways, 
+A scum of Bretons, and base lackey peasants, 
+Whom their o’er-cloyed country vomits forth 
+
+
+To desperate ventures and assured destruction. 
+
+You sleeping safe, they bring to you unrest; 
+
+You having lands, and blest with beauteous 
+wives, 321 
+
+They would restrain the one, distain the other. 
+
+And who doth lead them but a paltry fellow, 
+
+Long kept in Bretagne at our mother’s cost? 
+
+A milk-sop, one that never in his life 
+
+Felt so much cold as over shoes in snow? 
+
+Let's whip these stragglers o’er the seas again; 
+
+Lash hence these overweening rags of France, 
+
+These famish’d beggars, weary of their lives; 
+
+Who, but for dreaming on this fond exploit, 
+
+For want of means, poor rats, had hang'd 
+themselves: 
+
+If we be conquer'd, let men conquer us, 
+
+And not these bastard Bretons; whom our 
+fathers 
+
+Have in their own land beaten, bobb’d, and 
+thump’d, 
+
+And in record, left them the heirs of shame. 
+
+Shall these enjoy our lands? lie with our 
+wives? 
+
+Ravish our daughters? [Drum afar off. 
+Hark! I hear their drum. 
+
+Fight, gentlemen of England! fight, bold 
+yeoman! 
+
+Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head! 
+
+Spur po proud horses hard, and ride in 
+
+ood; 
+Amaze the welkin with your broken staves! 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+What says Lord Stanley? will he bring his 
+power? 
+Mess. My Tord, he doth deny to come. 
+K. Rich. Off with his son George's head! 
+Nor. My lord, the enemy is past the 
+marsh: 
+After the battle let George Stanley die. 
+K. Rich. A thousand hearts are greal 
+within my bosom: 
+Advance our standards, set upon our foes: 
+Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint 
+George, 
+Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons! 
+Upon them! Victory sits on our helms. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Another part of the field. 
+Alarum: excursions. Enter NorFoLK and 
+forces fighting; to him CaTESBY. 
+
+Cate. Rescue, my Lord of Norfolk, rescue, 
+rescue! 
+The king enacts more wonders than a man, 
+Daring an opposite to every danger: 
+His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights, 
+Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death 
+Rescue, fair lord, or else the dav is lost! 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. IV] 
+
+
+Alarums. Enter Kinc RIicHaArb, 
+
+
+K. Rich. A horse! a horse! my kingdom 
+for a horse! 
+Cate. Withdraw, my lord; I'll help you 
+to a horse. 
+K. Rich. Slave, I have set my life upon 
+a cast, 
+And I will stand the hazard of the die: 10 
+I think there be six Richmonds in the field; 
+Five have I slain to-day instead of him. 
+A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse! 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene V. Another part of the field. 
+
+
+Alarum. Enter .RicHarD and RICHMOND; 
+they fight. RIicHarp is slain. Retreat and 
+flourish. Re-enter RicHMOND, DERBY 
+bearing the crown, with divers other lords. 
+
+
+Richm. God and your arms be praised, 
+victorious friends; 
+The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead. 
+Der. Courageous Richmond, well hast thou 
+acquit thee. 
+Lo, here, this long-usurped royalty 
+From the dead temples of this bloody wretch 
+Have I pluck’d off, to grace thy brows withal: 
+Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it. 
+Richm. Great God. of heaven, say Amen 
+to all! 
+But, tell me, is young George Stanley living? 
+
+
+Der. He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester 
+
+town; 10 
+
+Whither, if it please you, we may now with- 
+draw us. 
+
+
+“ Richm. What men of name are slain on 
+either side? 
+
+
+KING RICHARD III 
+
+
+731 
+
+
+Der. John Duke of Norfolk, Walter Lord 
+
+
+Ferrers, 
+Sir Robert Brakenbury, and Sir William 
+Brandon. 
+Richm. Inter their bodies as becomes their 
+
+
+births: 
+
+Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled 
+
+That in submission will return to us: 
+
+And then, as we have ta’en the sacrament, 
+
+We will unite the white rose and the red: 
+
+Smile heaven upon this fair conjunction, 20 
+
+That long have frown'd upon their enmity! 
+
+What traitor hears me, and says not amen? 
+
+England hath long been mad, and scarr’d 
+herself ; 
+
+The brother blindly shed the brother's blood, 
+
+The father rashly slaughtered his own son, 
+
+The son, compell’d, been butcher to the sire: 
+
+All this divided York and Lancaster, 
+
+Divided in their dire division, 
+
+O, now, let Richmond and Elizabeth, 
+
+The true succeeders of each royal house, 30 
+
+By God's fair ordinance conjoin together! 
+
+And let their heirs, God, if they will be so, 
+
+Enrich the time to come with smooth-faced 
+peace, 
+
+With smiling plenty and fair prosperous days! 
+
+Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord, 
+
+That would reduce these bloody days again, 
+
+And make poor England weep in streams of 
+blood! 
+
+Let them not live to taste this land’s increase 
+
+That would with treason wound this fair 
+land’s peace! 
+
+Now civil wounds are stopp’d, peace lives 
+again: 
+
+That she may long live here, God say amen! 
+
+[Exeurt, 
+
+
+THE FAMOUS HISTORY OF THE LIFE OF 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+DRAMATIS 
+
+
+Kinc Henry the Eighth. 
+
+CARDINAL WOLSEY. 
+
+CARDINAL CAMPEIUS. 
+
+Capucius, Ambassador from the Em- 
+peror Charles V. 
+
+Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury. 
+
+Duxe or NorFo.k. 
+
+Duxe or BucKINGHAM. 
+
+DvukKE OF SUFFOLK. 
+
+Ear. OF SURREY. 
+
+Lord Chamberlain. 
+
+Lord Chancellor. 
+
+GarpinER, Bishop of Winchester. 
+
+Bishop of Lincoln. 
+
+Lorp ABERGAVENNY. 
+
+Lorp Sanps. 
+
+Sir Henry GuILDFoRD. 
+
+Sir Tuomas LoveELt. 
+
+Sir AntTHony DENNY. 
+
+Sir NicHotas Vaux. 
+
+Secretaries to Wolsey. 
+
+CROMWELL, Servant to Wolsey. 
+
+
+THE PROLOGUE. 
+
+
+{ comME no more to make you laugh: things 
+now, 
+That bear a weighty and a serious brow, 
+Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe, 
+Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow, 
+We now present. Those that can pity, here 
+May, if they think it well, let fall a tear; 
+The subject will deserve it. Such as give 
+Their money out of hope they may believe, 
+May here find truth too. Those that come to 
+see 
+Only a show or two, and so agree 10 
+The play may pass, if they be still and willing, 
+I'll undertake may see away their shilling 
+Richly in two short hours. Only they 
+That come to hear a merry bawdy play, 
+A noise of targets, or to see a fellow 
+In a long motley coat guarded with yellow, 
+Will be deceived; for, gentle hearers, know 
+To rank our chosen truth with such a show 
+As fool and fight is, beside forfeiting 
+
+
+PERSON. 
+
+
+GriFFiTH, Gentleman-usher 
+Katharine. 
+Three Gentlemen. 
+Doctor Butts, Physician to the King. 
+Garter King-at-Arms. 
+Surveyor to the Duke of Buckingham. 
+Branpon, and a Sergeant-at-Arms. 
+Door-keeper of the Council-chamber, 
+Porter, and his Man. 
+Page to Gardiner. A Crier. 
+QUEEN KaTHARINE, wife to King Henry, 
+afterwards divorced. 
+Anne BuLten, her Maid of Honour, 
+afterwards Queen. 
+An old Lady, friend to Anne Bullen. 
+PATIENCE, woman to Queen Katharine. 
+Several Lords and Ladies in the Dumb Shows; 
+Women attending upon the Queen; Scribes, 
+Officers, Guards, and other Attendants. 
+Spirits. 
+
+
+to Queen 
+
+
+Scene: London; Westminster; Kimbolton. 
+
+
+Will leave us never an understanding friend. 
+
+Therefore, for goodness’ sake, and as you are 
+known 
+
+The first and happiest hearers of the town, 
+
+Be sad, as we would make ye: think ye see 
+
+The very persons of our noble story 
+
+As they were living; think you see them great, 
+
+And follow'd with the general throng and sweat 
+
+Of thousand friends; then in a moment, see 
+
+How soon this mightiness meets misery: 30 
+
+And, if you can be merry then, I'll say 
+
+A man may weep upon his wedding-day. 
+
+
+AC Tol 
+
+
+Scene I. London. 
+
+
+palace. 
+
+
+Enter the DuKE or NorFoLk al one door; at 
+the other, the Duke oF BUCKINGHAM and 
+the Lorp ABERGAVENNY. 
+
+
+Buck. Good morrow, and well met. How | 
+
+
+have ye done 
+
+
+Our own brains, and the opinion that we bring, | Since last we saw in France? 
+
+
+21 
+
+
+To make that only true we now intend, 
+
+
+Nor. T thank your grac~ 
+
+
+732 
+
+
+An ante-chamber in the © 
+
+
+Act I, Se. I] 
+
+
+_ Healthful; and ever since a fresh admirer 
+
+
+Of what I saw there. 
+
+Buck. An untimely ague 
+Stay’d me a prisoner in my chamber when 
+Those suns of glory, those two lights of men, 
+Met in the vale of Andren. 
+
+Nor. "Twixt Guynes and Arde: 
+I was then present, saw them salute on horse- 
+
+back; 
+Beheld them, when they lighted, how they 
+clung 
+In their embracement, as they grew together; 
+Which had they, what four throned ones 
+could have weigh'’d 11 
+Such a compounded one? 
+
+Buck. All the whole time 
+I was my chamber’s prisoner. 
+
+Nor. Then you lost 
+
+
+_ The view of earthly glory: men might say, 
+
+
+Till this time pomp was single, but now married 
+To one above itself. Each following day 
+Became the next day’s master, till the last 
+Made former wonders its. To-day the French, 
+All clinquant, all in gold, like heathen gods, 
+Shone down the English; and, to-morrow, 
+they 
+Made Britain India: every man that stood 21 
+Show’'d like amine. Their dwarfish pages were 
+As cherubins, all gt: the madams too, 
+Not used to toil, did almost sweat to bear 
+The pride upon them, that their very labour 
+Was to them as a painting: now this masque 
+Was cried incomparable; and the ensuing 
+night 
+Made it a fool and beggar. The two kings, 
+Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst, 
+As presence did present them; him in eye, 30 
+Still him in praise: and, being present both, 
+Twas said they saw but one; and no dis- 
+cerner 
+
+
+_ Durst wag his tongue in censure. When these 
+
+
+suns— 
+
+
+For so they phrase “em—by their heralds 
+
+
+challenged 
+The noble spirits to arms, they did perform 
+
+
+b Beyond thought’s compass; that former fabu- 
+
+
+lous story, 
+
+
+- Being now seen possible enough, got credit, 
+
+
+That Bevis was believed. 
+
+Buck. O, you go far. 
+
+Nor. As I belong to worship and affect 
+In honour honesty, the tract of every thing 40 
+Would by a good discourser lose some life, 
+Which action’s self was tongue to. All was 
+
+royal; 
+
+
+; To the disposing of it nought rebell'd, 
+_ Order gave each thing view; the office did 
+
+
+Distinctly his full function. 
+Buck. Who did guide, 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIIi 
+
+
+= 
+734 
+
+
+I mean, who set the body and the limbs 
+Of this great sport together, as you guess? 
+Nor, One, certes, that promises no element 
+In such a business. 
+Buck. I pray you, who, my lord? 
+Nor. All this was order’d by the good dis- 
+cretion 50 
+Of the right reverend Cardinal of York. 
+Buck. The devil speed him! no man’s pie 
+is freed 
+From his ambitious finger. What had he 
+To do in these fierce vanities? 1 wonder 
+That such a keech can with his very bulk 
+Take up the rays o’ the beneficial sun 
+And keep it from the earth. 
+
+
+Nor. Surely, sir, 
+There's in him stuff that puts him to these 
+ends; 
+For, being not propp’d by ancestry, whose 
+grace 
+
+
+Chalks successors their way, nor call’d upon 
+For high feats done to the crown; neither 
+allied 
+To eminent assistants; but, spider-like, 
+Out of his self-drawing web, he gives us note, 
+The force of his own merit makes his way; 
+A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys 
+A place next to the king. 
+Aber. I cannot tell 
+What heaven hath given him,—let some 
+graver eye 
+Pierce into that; but I can see his pride 
+Peep through each part of him: whence has 
+he that, 
+If not from hell? the devil is a niggard, 
+Or has given all before, and he begins 
+A new hell in himself. 
+Buck. Why the devil, 
+pen this French going out, took he upon 
+im, 
+Without the privity o’ the king, to appoint 
+Who should attend on him? He makes up 
+the file 
+Of all the gentry; for the most part such 
+To whom as great a charge as little honour 
+He meant to lay upon: and his own letter, 
+
+
+70 
+
+
+.|The honourable board of council out, 
+
+
+Must fetch him in the papers. 
+
+Aber. I do know 80 
+Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that have 
+By this so sicken’d their estates, that never 
+They shall abound as formerly. 
+
+Buck. O, many 
+Have broke their backs with laying manors 
+
+on ’em 
+For this great journey. What did this vanity- 
+But minister communication of 
+A most poor issue? 
+
+
+Nor. Grievingly I think, 
+
+
+734 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+[Acr I, Se. I 
+
+
+The peace between the French and us not 
+values 
+The cost that did conclude it. : 
+
+Buck. Every man, 
+After the hideous storm that follow’d, was 90. 
+A thing inspired; and, not consulting, broke 
+Into a general prophecy; That this tempest, 
+Dashing the garment of this peace, aboded 
+The sudden breach on't. 
+
+Nor Which is budded out; 
+For pice hath flaw’d the league, and hath 
+
+attach’d 
+Our merchants’ goods at Bourdeaux. 
+
+Aber. Is it therefore 
+The ambassador is silenced? 
+
+Nor. Marry, is ‘t. 
+
+Aber. A proper title of a peace; and pur- 
+
+chased 
+At a superfluous rate! 
+
+Buck. Why, all this business 
+Our reverend cardinal carried. 
+
+Nor. Like it your grace, 100 
+The state takes notice of the private difference 
+Betwixt you and the cardinal. I advise you— 
+And take it from a heart that wishes towards 
+
+you 
+Honour and plenteous safety—that you read 
+The cardinal’s malice and h’s potency 
+Together; to consider further that 
+What his high hatred would effect wants not 
+A minister in his power. You know his nature, 
+That he's revengeful, and I know his sword 
+Wath a sharp edge: it’s long and, ‘t may be 
+said, 110 
+It reaches far, and where ‘tw'll not extend, 
+Thither he darts it. Bosom up my counsel, 
+You'll find it wholesome. Lo, where comes 
+that rock 
+That I advise your shunning. 
+
+
+Enter CarpinaL Wo sey, the purse borne 
+before him, certain of the Guard, and iwo 
+Secretaries with papers. The CARDINAL in 
+his passage fixeth his eye on BUCKINGHAM, 
+and BucKINGHAM on him, both full of 
+disdain. 
+
+
+Wol. The Duke of Buckingham's sur- 
+veyor, ha? 
+Where's his examination? 
+First Secr. Here, so please you, 
+Wol. Is he in person ready > 
+First Secr. Ay, please your grace. 
+Wol. Well, we shall then know more; and 
+Buckingham 
+Shall lessen this big look. 
+[Exeunt Wolsey and his Train, 
+Buck. This butcher's cur is venom- 
+
+
+mouth’d, ard | 120 
+
+
+Have not the power to muzzle him; therefore 
+best 
+Not wake him in his slumber. 
+book 
+Outworths a noble’s blood. 
+Nor. What, are you chafed? 
+
+
+Ask God for temperance; that’s the appli- 
+
+
+A beggar’s 
+
+
+ance only 
+Which your disease requires. 
+Buck. I read in’s looks 
+
+
+Matter against me; and his eye reviled 
+Me, as his abject object: at this instant 
+He bores me with some trick: he’s gone to 
+the king; 
+I'll follow and outstare him. 
+or. Stay, my lord, 
+And let your reason with your choler question 
+What ‘tis you go about: to climb steep hills — 
+Requires slow pace at first: anger is like 
+A full-hot horse, who being allow'd his way, 
+Self-mettle tires him. Not a man in England 
+Can advise me like you: be to yourself 
+As you would to your friend. 
+
+Buck. I'll to the king; 
+And from a mouth of honour quite cry down 
+This Ipswich fellow’s insolence; or proclaim 
+There ’s difference in no persons, 
+
+Nor. Be advised; 
+Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot 140 
+That it do singe yourself: we may outrun, 
+By violent swiftness, that which we run at, 
+And lose by over-running. Know you not, 
+That fire that mounts the liquor till ’t run o’er, 
+In seeming to augment it wastes it? Be ad- 
+
+vised: + 
+I say again, there is no English soul 
+More stronger to direct you than yourself, 
+If with the sap of reason you would quench, 
+Or but allay, the fire of passion. 
+
+Buck. Sir, 
+
+I am thankful to you; and I'll go along 150 
+By your prescription: but this top-proud fel- 
+low, 
+Whom from the flow of gall I name not but 
+From sincere motions, by intelligence, 
+And proofs as clear as founts in July when 
+We see each grain of gravel, 1 do know 
+To be corrupt and treasonous, ~ 
+Nor. Say not ‘treasonous.’ 
+Buck. To the king I'll say 't; and make 
+my vouch as strong 
+As shore of rock. Attend. This holy fox, 
+Or wolf, or both,—for he is equal ravenous 
+As he is subtle, and as prone to mischief 160 
+As able to perform 't; his mind and place 
+Infecting one another, yea, reciprocally— 
+Only to show his pomp as well in France 
+As here at home, suggests the king our mas-~ 
+ter 
+
+
+Acr I, Sc. II] 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+735 
+
+
+——_—_—_—$_————— 
+
+
+To this last costly treaty, the interview 
+That as so much treasure, and like a 
+
+
+glas 
+
+Did beck i’ the rinsing. 
+
+or. Faith, and so it did. 
+
+Buck. Pray, give me favour, sir. 
+
+cunning cardinal 
+The articles o’ the combination drew 
+As himself pleased; and they were ratified 
+As he cried “Thus let be’: to as much end 
+
+
+This 
+
+
+As give a crutch to the dead: but our count- 
+
+
+cardinal 
+Has done this, and ‘tis well; for worthy 
+olsey, 
+Who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows,— 
+
+
+Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppy 
+To the old dam, treason,—Charles the em- 
+peror, 
+Under pretence to see the queen his aunt,— 
+For ‘twas indeed his colour, but he came 
+To whisper Wolsey,—here makes visitation: 
+His fears were, that the interview betwixt 180 
+England and France might, through their 
+amity, 
+Breed him some prejudice; for from this league 
+Peep’d harms that menaced him: he privily 
+Deals with our cardinal; and, as I ‘trow,— 
+Which I do well; for I am sure the emperor 
+Paid ere he promised, whereby his su:t was 
+granted 
+Ere it was ask’d; but when the way was made, 
+And* paved with. gold, the emperor thus de- 
+sired, 
+That he would please to alter the king’s course, 
+cme the foresaid peace. Let the king 
+190 
+As soon he shall by me, that thus the cardinal 
+Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases, 
+And for his own advantage. 
+Nor. am sorry 
+To hear this of him; and could wish he were 
+Something m‘staken in ‘t. 
+uck. No, not a syllable: 
+I do pronounce him in \that very shape 
+He shall appear in proof, 
+
+
+Enter BRANDON, a Sergeant-at-Arms before 
+him, and two or three of the Guard. 
+
+
+he Your office, sergeant; execute it. 
+
+Ser Sir, 
+My lord the Duke of Buckingham and Earl 
+OFf Hereford, Stafford, and Northampton, I 
+Arrest thee of high treason in the name 
+Of our most sovereign king. 
+
+Buck. Lo, va my lord, 
+The net has fall’n upon me! I shall perish 
+Under device and practice. 
+
+Bran. I am sorry 
+
+
+To see you ta’en from liberty, to look on 
+The business present: ‘tis his highness’ pleas- 
+ure 
+You shall to the Tower. 
+uck. It will help me nothing 
+To plead mine innocence; for that dye is on 
+
+
+me 
+Which makes my whitest part black. The 
+will of heaven 
+Be done in this and all things! I obey. 210 
+O my Lord Abergavenny, fare you well! 
+Bran. Nay, he must bear you company. 
+The king [To Abergavenny. 
+Is pleased you shall to the Tower, till you 
+know 
+How he determines further. 
+Aber As the duke said, 
+The all of heaven be done, and the king’s 
+pleasure 
+By me obey’d! 
+Bran. Here is a warrant from 
+The k'ng to attach Lord Montacute; and the 
+bodies 
+Of the duke’s confessor, John de la Car, 
+One Gilbert Peck, his chancellor,— 
+
+
+Buck. So, so; 219 
+These are the limbs o’ the pot: no more, I 
+hope. 
+
+
+Bran. A monk o’ the Chartreux. 
+
+
+Buck. O, Nicholas Hopkins > 
+Bran. He. 
+Buck. My surveyor is false; the o’er-great 
+cardinal 
+Hath show'd him gold; my life is spann’d 
+already: 
+
+
+I am the shadow of poor Buckingham, 
+Whose figure even this instant cloud puts on, 
+By darkening my clear sun. My lord, fare- 
+
+
+well. [Exeunt. 
+Scene II. The same. The council-chamber. 
+Cornets. Enter the Kino, leaning on the 
+
+
+CarpINAaL's shoulder, the Nobles, and Sir 
+Tuomas Lovett; the CARDINAL places 
+himself under the Kino’s feet on his right 
+side. 
+
+
+King. My life itself, and the best heart of 
+
+
+1, 
+Thanks you for this great care: I stood i’ the 
+level 
+Of a full-charged confederacy, and give thanks 
+To you that choked it. Let be call’d before uy 
+That gentleman of Buckingham’s; in person 
+I'll hear him his confessions justify; 
+And point by point the treasons of his master 
+He shall again relate. 
+
+
+736 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+[Acr I, ‘Se. Ti 
+
+
+A noise within, crying ‘Room for the Queen!’ 
+Enter QuEEN KaTHARINE, ushered by the 
+Duke oF NorroLk, and the DUKE oF 
+SuFFOLK: she kneels. The Kinc riseth 
+from his state, takes her up, kisses and 
+placeth her by him. 
+
+
+Q. Kath. Nay, we must longer kneel: I am 
+a suitor. 3 
+King. Arise, and take place by us: half 
+your suit 10 
+Never name to us; you have half our power: 
+The other moiety, ere you ask, is given; 
+Repeat your will and take it. 
+
+Q. Kath. Thank your majesty. 
+That you would love yourself, and in that love 
+Not unconsider’d leave your honour, nor 
+The dignity of your office, is the point 
+Of my petition. 
+
+King. Lady mine, proceed. 
+
+Q. Kath. I am solicited, not by a few, 
+And those of true condition, that your subjects 
+Are in great grievance: there have been com- 
+
+
+missions 20 
+Sent down among "em, which hath flaw’d the 
+heart 
+
+
+Of all their loyalties: wherein, although, 
+My good lord cardinal, they vent reproaches 
+Most bitterly on you, as putter on 
+Of these exactions, yet the king our master— 
+Whose honour heaven shield from soil!— 
+even he escapes not 
+
+Language unmannerly, yea, such which breaks 
+The sides of loyalty, and almost appears 
+In loud rebellion. 
+
+Nor. Not almost appears, 
+It doth appear; for, upon these taxations, 30 
+The clothiers all, not able to ma ntain 
+The many to them ‘longing, have put off 
+The spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who, 
+Unfit for other life, compell’d by hunger 
+And lack of other means, in desperate manner 
+Daring the event to the teeth, are all in uproar, 
+And danger serves among them. 
+
+
+King. Taxation! 
+‘Wherein?. and what taxation? My lord 
+cardinal, 
+
+
+‘You that are blamed for it alike with us, 
+Know you of this taxation? 
+Wol. Please you, sir, 
+I know but of a single part, in aught 
+Pertains to the state; and front but in that 
+file 
+Where others tell steps with me. 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+Q. Kath, No, my lord, 
+You know no more than others; but you 
+frame 
+Things that are known alike; which are not 
+wholesome 
+
+
+To those which would not know them, and yet 
+must 
+
+Perforce be their acquaintance. These exac- 
+tions, 
+
+Whereof my sovereign would have note, they 
+are 
+
+Most pestilent to the hearing; and, to bear 
+em, 
+
+The back is sacrifice to the load. They say 
+
+They are devised by you; or else you suffer’ 
+
+Too hard an exclamation. 
+
+King. Still exaction! 
+The nature of it? in what kind, let's know, 
+Is this exaction? 
+Q. Kath. I am much too venturous 
+
+In tempting of your patience; but am bold- 
+en'd 
+
+Under your promised pardon. The subjects’ 
+grief 
+
+Comes through commissions, which compel 
+from each 
+
+The sixth part of his substance, to be levied 
+
+Without delay; and the pretence for this 
+
+Is named, your wars in France: this makes 
+bold mouths: 
+
+Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts 
+freeze 
+
+Allegiance in them; their curses now 
+
+Live where their prayers did: and it’s come 
+to pass, 
+
+This tractable obedience is a slave 
+
+To each incensed will. I would your highness 
+
+Would give it quick consideration, for 
+
+There is no primer business. 
+
+
+King. < By my life, 
+This is against our pleasure. 
+Wol. And for me, 
+
+
+I have no further gone in this than by 
+
+A single voice; and that not pass’d me but 70 
+
+By learned approbation of the judges. If J am 
+
+Traduced by ignorant tongues, which neither 
+know 
+
+My faculties nor person, yet will be 
+
+The chronicles of my doing, let me say 
+
+"Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake 
+
+That virtue must go through. We must not 
+stint 
+
+Our necessary actions, in the fear 
+
+To cope malicious censurers; which ever, 
+
+As ravenous fishes, do a vessel follow 
+
+That is new-trimm’d, but benefit no further 
+
+Than vainly longing. What we oft do best, 
+
+By sick interpreters, once weak ones, is 
+
+Not ours, or not allow’d; what worst, as oft, 
+
+Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up 
+
+For our best act. If we shall stand still, 
+
+In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at, 
+
+We should take root here where we sit, or sit 
+
+State-statues only. 
+
+
+; 
+
+
+er I, Sc. II] 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+™= 
+
+
+737 
+
+
+King. Things done well, 
+And with a care, exempt themselves from fear; 
+
+
+_ Things done without example, in their issue 90 
+
+
+if That he may furnish and 
+
+
+Are to be fear’d. Have you a precedent 
+
+Of this commission? I believe, not any. 
+
+We must not rend our subjects from our laws, 
+
+And stick them in our will. Sixth part of 
+each ? 
+
+A trembling contribution! Why, we take 
+
+From. every tree lop, bark, and part o’ the 
+timber ; 
+
+And, though we leave it with a root, thus 
+hack’d, 
+
+The air will drink the sap. To every county 
+
+Where this is question’d send our letters, with 
+
+Free pardon to each man that has denied 100 
+
+
+The force of this commission: pray, look 
+to 't; 
+I put it to your care. 
+Wol. A word with you. 
+
+
+[To the Secretary. 
+
+
+Let there be letters writ to every shire, 
+
+
+Of the king’s grace and pardon. The grieved 
+commons 
+
+Hardly conceive of me; let it be noised 
+
+That through our intercession this revokement 
+
+And pardon comes: I shall anon advise you 
+
+Further in the proceeding. [Exit Secretary. 
+
+
+Enter Surveyor. 
+
+
+Q. Kath. I am sorry that the Duke of 
+
+
+Buckingham 
+Is run in your displeasure. 
+King. It grieves many: 110 
+The gentleman is learn’d, and a most rare 
+‘speaker; 
+To nature none more bound; his training 
+such, 
+
+
+instruct great 
+teachers, 
+
+And never seek for aid out of himself. Yet 
+see, 
+
+When these so noble benefits shall prove 
+
+Not well disposed, the mind growing once 
+corrupt, 
+
+They turn to vicious forms, ten times more 
+ugly 
+
+Than ever they were fair. 
+complete, 
+
+Who was enroll’d *mongst wonders, and when 
+we, 
+
+Almost with ravish'd listening, could not find 
+
+His hour of speech a minute; he, my lady, 
+
+Hath into monstrous habits put the graces 
+
+That once were his, and is become as black 
+
+As if besmear’d’in hell. Sit by us; you shall 
+hear— 
+
+This was his gentleman in trust—of him 
+
+
+This man so 
+
+
+Things to strike honour sad. Bid him recoun* 
+The fore-recited practices; whereof 
+We cannot feel too little, hear too much. 
+Wol. Stand forth, and with bold spirit re- 
+late what you, 
+Most like a careful subject, have collected 
+Out of the Duke of Buckingham. 
+King. Speak freely. 
+Surv. First, it was usual with him, every 
+day 
+It would infect his speech, that if the king 
+Should without issue die, he “ll carry it so 
+To make the sceptre his: these very words 
+I ‘ve heard him utter to his son-in-law, 
+Lord Abergavenny; to whom by oath he 
+
+
+menaced 
+Revenge upon the cardinal. 
+Wol. Please your highness, note 
+
+
+This dangerous conception in this point. 139 
+Not friended by his wish, to your high person 
+His will is most malignant; and it stretches 
+Beyond you, to your friends. 
+
+Q. Kath. My. learn’d lord cardinal, 
+Deliver all with charity, 
+
+King. Speak on: 
+How grounded he his title to the crown, 
+Upon our fail? to this point hast thou heard 
+
+
+him 
+At any time speak aught? 
+Sur. He was brought to this 
+
+
+By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins. 
+
+King. What was that Hopkins? 
+
+Surv. Sir, a Chartreux friar, 
+His confessor; who fed him every minute 
+With words of sovere-gnty. 
+
+King. How know’st thou this? 150 
+
+Surv. Not long before your highness sped 
+
+to France, 
+The duke being at the Rose, within the parish 
+Saint Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand 
+What was the speech among the Londoners 
+Concerning the French journey: I replied, 
+Men fear’d the French would prove perfidious, 
+To the king’s danger. Presently the duke 
+Said, ‘twas the fear, indeed; and that he 
+
+doubted 
+
+
+*Twould prove the verity of certain words 
+
+
+-| Spoke by a holy monk; ‘that oft,’ says he, 160 
+
+
+‘Hath sent to me, w:shing me to permit 
+
+John de la Car, my chaplain, a choice hour 
+
+To hear from him a matter of some moment: 
+
+Whom after under the confession’s seal 
+
+He solemnly had sworn, that what he spoke 
+
+My chaplain to no creature living, but 
+
+To me, should utter, with demure confidence 
+
+This pausingly ensued: Neither the king nor 's 
+heirs, 
+
+Tell you the duke, shall prosper: bid him strive 
+
+To gain the love o’ the commonalty: the duke 
+
+
+738 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+[Act I, Sc. Ii 
+
+
+Shall govern England.’ 
+Q. Kath. If 1 know you well, 171 
+You were the duke’s surveyor, and lost your 
+office 
+On the complaint o’ the tenants: take good 
+hee 
+You charge not in your spleen a noble person 
+And spoil your nobler swul: I say, take heed; 
+Yes, heartily beseech you, 
+
+
+King. Let him on, 
+Go forward. 
+Sun. On my soul, I ‘ll speak but truth. 
+
+
+I told my lord the duke, by the devil’s illusions 
+
+The monk might be deceived; and that ‘twas 
+dangerous for him 
+
+To ruminate on this so far, until 180 
+
+Jt forged him some design, which, being be- 
+lieved, 
+
+It was much like to do: he answer'd, “Tush, 
+
+It can do me no damage;” adding further, 
+
+That had the king in his last sickness fail’d, 
+
+The cardinal’s and Sir Thomas Lovell’s heads 
+
+Should have gone off. 
+
+
+King. Ha! what, so rank? Ah ha! 
+There ’s mischief in this man: canst thou say 
+further? 
+Surv. I can, my liege. 
+King. Proceed. 
+Surv. Being at Greenwich, 
+
+
+After your highness had reproved the duke 
+About Sir William Blomer,— 
+
+King. I remember 190 
+Of such a time: being my sworn servant, 
+The duke retain’d him his. But on; what 
+
+hence? 
+
+Surv. ‘If,’ quoth he, ‘I for this had been 
+
+committed, 
+
+As, to the Tower, I thought, I would have 
+play'd 
+
+The part my father meant. to act upon 
+
+The usurper Richard; who, be'ng at Salisbury, 
+
+Made suit to come in's presence; which if 
+granted, 
+
+As he made semblance of his duty, would 
+
+Have put his knife into him.’ 
+
+
+King. A giant traitor! 
+Wol. Now, madam, may his highness |'ve 
+in freedom, 200 
+And this man out of prison? 
+Q. Kath. God mend all! 
+
+
+King. There's something more would out 
+of thee; what say’st? 
+Surv. After ‘the duke his father,” with 
+_ ‘the knife,’ 
+He stretch’d him, and, with one hand on his 
+dagger, 
+Another spread on's breast, mounting his eyes, 
+He did discharge a horrible oath; whose tenour 
+Was,—were he evil used. he would outga 
+
+
+His father by as much as a performance 
+Does an irresolute purpose. 
+
+King. There's his period, 
+To sheathe his knife in us. He is attach’d; 
+Call him to present trial: if he may 211 
+Find mercy in the law, ‘tis his; if none, 
+
+Let him not seek "t of us: by day and night, 
+He’s traitor to the height. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III, An ante-chamber in the palace, 
+
+
+Enter the Lorp CHAMBERLAIN and Lorp 
+SANDS, 
+
+
+Cham. Is’t possible the spells of France 
+should juggle 
+Men into such strange mysteries? 
+Sands, New customs, 
+Though they be never so ridiculous, 
+Nay, let °em be unmanly, yet are follow'd. 
+Cham. As far as I see, all the good our 
+English 
+Have got by the late voyage is but merely 
+A fit or two o’ the face; but they are shrewd 
+ones; 
+For when they hold ‘em, you would swear 
+directly 
+heir very noses had been counsellors 
+To Pepin or Clotharius, they keep state so. 10 
+Sands, They have all new legs, and lame 
+ones: one would take it, 
+That never saw ‘em pace before, the spavin 
+Or springhalt reign’d among ‘em. 
+Cham, Death! my lord, 
+Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too, 
+That, sure, they "ve worn out Christendom. 
+
+
+~ 
+Enter Str Tuomas Lovett. 
+
+
+How now! 
+What news, Sir Thomas Lovell ? 
+Lov, Faith, my lord, 
+I hear of none, but the new proclamation 
+That’s clapp’d upon the court-gate. 
+Cham, What ist for? 
+
+
+Lov. The reformation of our travell'd 
+gallants, 
+
+That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and 
+
+tailors. 20 
+
+
+Cham. I'm glad ‘tis there: now I would 
+pray our monsieurs 
+To think an English courtier may be wise, 
+And never see the Louvre. 
+
+Lov. They must either, 
+For so run the conditions, leave those remnants 
+Of fool and feather that they got in France, 
+With all their honourable points of ignorance 
+Pertaining thereunto, as fights and fireworks, 
+Abusing better men than they can be, 
+
+Out of a foreign wisdom, renouncing clean 
+
+
+(The faith they have in tennis, and tall stockings, 
+
+
+ee ee 
+
+
+| 
+
+
+Act I, Sc. IV] 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+= 
+
+
+739 
+
+
+Short blister’d breeches, and those types of 
+
+
+travel, 
+And understand again like honest men; 
+Or pack to their old playfellows: there, I 
+take it, 
+They may, ‘cum privilegio,’ wear away 
+The lag end of their lewdness and be laugh’d at. 
+Sands. "Tis time to give ‘em physic, their 
+
+
+diseases 
+Are grown so catching. 
+Cham. What a loss our ladies 
+
+
+Will have of these trim vanities! 
+
+
+Lov, Ay, marry, 
+There will be woe indeed, lords: the sly 
+whoresons 
+
+
+Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies; 
+
+
+A French song and a fiddle has no fellow. 41 
+
+
+Sands. The devil fiddle ’em! 
+
+they are going, 
+
+For sure, there ’s no converting of "em: now 
+
+An honest country lord, as I am, beaten 
+
+A long time out of play, may bring his plain- 
+song 
+
+And have an hour of hearing; and, by 'r lady, 
+
+Held current music too. 
+
+Cham. Well said, Lord Sands; 
+Your colt’s tooth is not cast yet. 
+
+Sands. No, my lord; 
+Nor shall not, while I have a stump. 
+
+Cham. Sir Thomas, 
+Whither were you a-going? 
+
+Lov. To the cardinal’s: 50 
+Your lordship is a guest too. 
+
+Cham. O, 't's true: 
+This night he makes a supper, and a great one, 
+To many lords and ladies; there will be 
+The beauty of this kingdom, I ‘Il assure you. 
+
+Lov. That, churchman bears a bounteous 
+
+mind. indeed, ; 
+A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us; 
+
+
+His dews fall every where. 
+
+
+I am glad 
+
+
+Cham. No doubt he’s noble; 
+He had a black mouth that said other of 
+him. 
+Sands. He may, my lord; has wherewithal: 
+in him 
+Sparing would show a worse sin than ill 
+doctrine: 60 
+
+
+Men of his way should be most liberal; 
+They are set here for examples. 
+
+Cham. True, they are so; 
+But few now give so great ones. My barge 
+
+
+stays; 
+Your lordship shall along. Come, good Sir 
+Thomas, 
+We shall be late else; which I would not be, 
+For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guildford 
+This night to be comptrollers. 
+
+
+Sands. I am your lordship’s. [Exeunt. | 
+
+
+Scene IV. A Aall in York Place. 
+
+
+Hautboys. A small table under a state for 
+the CaRDINAL, a lunger table for the guests. 
+Then enter ANNE BULLEN and divers 
+other Ladies and Gentlemen as guests, at 
+one door; at another door, enter Sin HENRY 
+GUILDFORD, 
+
+
+Guild, Ladies, a general welcome from 
+his grace 
+Salutes ye all; this night he dedicates 
+To fair content and you: none here, he hopes, 
+In all this noble bevy, has brought with her 
+One care abroad; he would have all as merry 
+As, first, good company, good wine, good 
+welcome, 
+Can make good people. O, my lord, you ‘re 
+tardy: 
+
+
+Enter Lorp CHAMBERLAIN, Lorp Sanps, 
+and Sir THomas LoveLt. 
+
+
+The very thought of this fair company 
+Clapp'd wings to me. 
+
+Cham, You are young, Sir Harry Guildford, 
+
+Sands. Sir Thomas Lovell, had the cardina! 
+But half my lay thoughts in him, some of these 
+Should find a running banquet ere they rested, 
+I think would better please 'em: by my life, 
+They are a sweet society of fair ones. 
+
+Lov. O, that your lordship were but now 
+
+confessor 
+
+To one or two of these! 
+
+Sands. I would I were; 
+
+
+‘They should find easy penance. 
+
+
+: Faith, how easy? 
+Sands. As easy as a down-bed would 
+afford it. 
+Cham. Sweet ladies, will it please you sit? 
+Sir Harry, 
+Place you that side; I'll take the charge of 
+
+
+this: 20 
+
+His grace is entering. Nay, you must not 
+freeze; 
+
+Two women placed together makes cold 
+weather: 
+
+My Lord Sands, you are one will keep ‘em 
+waking; 
+
+Pray, sit between these ladies. 
+
+Sands. By my faith, 
+
+
+And thank your lordship. 
+sweet ladies: 
+If I chance to talk a l'ttle wild, forgive me; 
+I had it from my father. 
+Anne. Was he mad, sir? 
+Sands. O, very mad, exceeding mad, in 
+love too: 
+But he would bite none; just as I do now, 
+He would kiss you twenty with a breath. 
+' Kisses her, 
+
+
+By your leave, 
+
+
+746 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+ao AS eee 
+3 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. IV 
+
+
+oe 
+
+
+Cham, 
+So, now you're fairly seated. Gentlemen, 
+The penance lies on you, if these fair ladies 
+Pass away frowning. 
+
+
+Sands. For my little cure, 
+Let me alone. 
+Hautboys. Enter CarpinaL Wotsey, and 
+
+
+takes his state. 
+Wol. You're welcome, my fair guests: 
+that noble lady, 
+Or gentleman, that is not freely merry, 
+Is not my friend: this, to confirm my welcome; 
+And to you all, good health. [ Drinks. 
+Sands, our grace is noble: 
+Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks, 
+And save me so much talking. 
+W ol. My Lord Sands, 40 
+I am beholding to you: cheer your neighbours. 
+Ladies, you are not merry: gentlemen, 
+Whose fault is this? 
+Sands. The red wine first must rise 
+In their fair cheeks, my lord; then we shall 
+
+
+have ‘em 
+Talk us to silence. 
+Anne. You are a merry gamester, 
+My Lord Sands. 
+Sands. Yes, if I make my play. 
+
+
+Here’s to your ladyship: and pledge it, madam, 
+For ‘tis to such a thing, 
+nne. You cannot show me. 
+Sands. I told your grace they would talk 
+anon. 
+[Drum and trumpet, chambers discharged. 
+W ol. What's that? 
+Cham. Look out there, some of ye. 
+[Exit Servant. 
+
+
+Wol. What warlike voice, 50 
+And to what end, is this? Nay, ladies, fear 
+not; 
+
+
+By all the laws of war you're privileged. 
+Re-enter Servant. 
+Cham. How now! what is ‘t? 
+Serv. A noble troop of strangers; 
+For so they seem: they've left their barge 
+and landed; 
+And hither make, as great ambassadors 
+From foreign princes. 
+Wol. Good lord chamberlain, 
+Go, give ‘em welcome; you can speak the 
+French tongue; 
+And, pray, receive ‘em nobly, and conduct ’em 
+Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty 
+Shall shine at full upon them. Some attend 
+
+
+im. 6 
+
+[Exit Chamberlain, attended. All rise, 
+
+and tables removed. 
+
+You have new a broken banquet; but we ‘ll 
+mend it. 
+
+
+Well said, my lord. 30] A good digestion to you all: and once more 
+
+
+I shower a welcome on ye; welcome all, 
+
+
+Hautboys. Enter the Kine and others, as 
+masquers, habited like shepherds, ushered 
+by the Lorp CHAMBERLAIN. They pass 
+directly before the CaRDINAL, and grace~ 
+fully salute him. 
+
+
+A noble company! what are their pleasures? 
+
+Cham. Because they speak no English, 
+
+thus they pray'’d 
+To tell your grace, that, having heard by fame 
+Of this so noble and so fair assembly 
+This: night to meet here, they could do no less, 
+Out of the great respect they bear to beauty, 
+But leave their flocks; and, under your fair 
+conduct, 70 
+Crave leave to view these ladies and entreat 
+An hour of revels with ’em. 
+
+Wol. Say, lord chamberlain, 
+
+They have done my poor house grace; for 
+
+which I pay *em 
+
+A thousand thanks, and pray ‘em take their 
+pleasures. 
+
+[They choose Ladies for the dance. The 
+
+King chooses Anne Bullen. 
+
+King. The fairest hand I ever touch’d! O 
+
+beauty, 
+
+Till now I never knew thee! [Music. Dance. 
+
+Wol. My lord! 
+
+Cham. Your grace? 
+
+Wol. Pray, tell em thus much from me: 
+There should be one amongst ‘em, by his person, 
+More worthy this place than myself; to whom, 
+If I but knew him, with my love and duty 80 
+I would surrender it. 
+
+Cham. I will, my lord, 
+
+[Whispers the Masquers. 
+
+Wol. What say they? 
+
+Cham. Such a one, they all confess, 
+There is indeed; which they would have your 
+
+
+grace 
+Find out, and he will take it. 
+Wol. Let me see, then. 
+By all your good leaves, gentlemen; here 
+"ll make 
+My royal choice, 
+
+
+King. Ye have found him, cardinal: 
+[ Unmasking. 
+You hold a fair assembly; you do well, lord: 
+You are a churchman, or, I'll tell you, 
+cardinal, 
+I should judge now unhappily. 
+
+
+Wol. I am glad 
+
+
+0 | Your grace is grown so pleasant. 
+
+
+King. My lord chamberlain, 90 
+Prithee, come hither: what fair lady ’s that? 
+Cham. Ant please your grace, Sir Thomas 
+Bullen’s daughter,— 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+. 
+} 
+
+
+Aer II, Sc. J] 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+741 
+
+
+re 
+
+
+The Viscount Rochford,—one of her high- 
+ness’ women. 
+
+King. By heaven, she is a dainty one. 
+
+Sweetheart, 
+
+I were unmannerly, to take you out, 
+And not to kiss you. A health, gentlemen! 
+Let it go round, 
+
+Wol. Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet 
+
+
+ready 
+I’ the privy chamber? 
+ov. Yes, my lord. 
+Wol. Your grace, 
+
+
+I fear, with dancing is a little heated. 100 
+King. 1 fear, too much. 
+Wol. There's fresher air, my lord, 
+In the next chamber. 
+King. Lead in your ladies, every one: 
+sweet partner, 
+I must not yet forsake you: let’s be merry, 
+Good my lord cardinal: I have half a dozen 
+: healths 
+To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure 
+To lead “em once again; and then let 'sdream 
+Who's best in favour. Let the music knock it. 
+. [Exeunt with trumpets. 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+
+
+Scene I. Westminster. A street. 
+Enter two Gentlemen, meeting. 
+
+First Gent. Whither away so fast? 
+
+Sec. Gent. O, God save ye! 
+Even to the hall, to hear what shall become 
+Of the great Duke of Buckingham. 
+
+First Gent. I il save you 
+That labour, sir. All’s now done, but the 
+
+ceremony 
+Of bringing back the prisoner. 
+Sec. Gent. 
+First Gent. Yes, indeed, was I. 
+
+
+Sec. Gent. Pray, speak what has happen'd. 
+
+
+First Gent. You may guess quickly what. 
+Sec. Gent. Is he found guilty > 
+First Gent. Yes, truly is he, and con- 
+demn’d upon 't. 
+Sec. Gent. 1 am sorry for’t. 
+First Gent. So are a number more, 
+Sec. Gent. But, pray, how pass'd it? 10 
+First Gent. I'll tell you in a little. The 
+great duke 
+Came to the bar; where to his accusations 
+He pleaded still not guilty and alleged 
+Many sharp reasons to defeat the law. 
+The king’s attorney on the contrary 
+Urged on the examinations, proofs, confessions 
+
+
+Gf divers witnesses; which the duke desired | 
+
+
+To have brought viva voce to his face: 
+At which appear'd against him his surveyor; 
+Sir Gilbert Peck his chancellor; and John Car, 
+
+
+Were you there? 
+
+
+Confessor to him; with that devil-monk, 21 
+Hopkins that made this mischief. 
+Sec. Gent. That was he 
+
+
+That fed him with his prophecies ? 
+
+
+First Gent. The same. 
+All these accused him strongly; which he fain 
+Would have flung from him, but, indeed, he 
+
+
+could not: 
+
+
+And so his peers, upon this evidence, 
+
+
+Have found him guilty of hgh treason, Much 
+He spoke, and learnedly, for life; but all 
+Was either pitied in him or forgotten. 
+Sec. Gent. After all this, how did he bear 
+himself ? 30 
+First Gent. When he was brought again 
+to the bar, to hear 
+His knell rung out, his judgement, he was 
+stirr’d 
+With such an agony, he sweat extremely, 
+And something spoke in choler, ill, and hasty: 
+But he fell to himself again, and sweetly 
+In all the rest show’d a most noble patience. 
+
+
+Sec. Gent. 1 do not think he fears death. 
+First Gent. Sure, he does nots 
+He never was so womanish; the cause 
+He may a little grieve at. 
+Sec. Gent. Certainly 
+The cardinal is the end of this. 
+First Gent. Tis likely, 40 
+
+
+By all conjectures: first, Kildare’s attainder, 
+Then deputy of Ireland; who removed, 
+Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too, 
+
+
+Lest he should help his father. 
+
+
+Sec. Gent. That trick of state 
+Was a deep envious one. 
+First Gent. At his return 
+
+
+No doubt he will requite it. This is noted, 
+And generally, whoever the king favours, 
+The card.nal instantly will find employment, 
+And far enough from court too. 
+
+Sec. Gent. All the commons 
+Hate him perniciously, and, o’ my conscience, 
+Wish him ten fathom deep: this duke as much 
+They love and dote on; call him bounteous 
+
+Buckingham, 
+
+
+I The mirror .of: all courtesy ;— 
+
+
+First Gent. Stay there, sir, 
+And see the noble ruin’d man you speak of, 
+
+
+Enter .BucKINGHAM from his arraignment; 
+tipstaves before him; the axe with the edge 
+towards him; halberds on each side: ac- 
+companied with Sir THomas LoveLt, Siz 
+NicHoLtas Vaux, Sir Wiiiam Sanps, 
+and common people. 
+
+
+Sec. Gent. Let’s stand close, and behold 
+him. 
+Buck. All good people, 
+You that thus far have come to pity me, 
+
+
+742 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+{Act II, Sc. I 
+
+
+—————— —————————————a ee 
+
+
+Hear what I say, and then go home.and lose 
+me. 
+
+I have this day received a traitor’s judgement, 
+
+And by that name must die: yet, heaven bear 
+witness, 
+
+And if I have a conscience, let it sink me, 60 
+
+Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful! 
+
+The law I bear no malice for my death; 
+
+"T has done, upon the premises, but justice: 
+
+But those that sought it I could wish more 
+Christians: 
+
+Be what they will, I heartily forgive ‘em: 
+
+Yet let em look they glory not in mischief, 
+
+Nor build their evils on the graves of great 
+men; 
+
+For then my guiltless blood must cry against 
+em. 
+
+For further life in this world I ne'er hope, 
+
+Nor will I sue, ‘although the king have mercies 
+
+More than I dare make faults. You few that 
+loved me, 7) 
+
+And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham, 
+
+His noble friends and fellows, whom to leave 
+
+!s only bitter to him, only dying, 
+
+Go with me, like good angels, to my end; 
+
+And, as the long divorce of steel falls on me, 
+
+Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice, 
+
+And lift my soul to heaven. Lead on, o° 
+God's name. 
+
+Lov. I do beseech your grace, for charity, 
+if ever any malice in your heart 
+Were hid against me, now to forgive me 
+
+frankly. 
+
+Buck. Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free for- 
+
+give you 
+As I vould be forgiven: I forgive all; 
+There cannot be those numberless offences 
+
+
+“Gainst me, that I cannot take peace with: no- 
+black envy 
+
+Shall mark my grave. Commend me to his 
+grace; : 
+
+
+And, if he speak of Buckingham, pray, tell him 
+
+You met him half in heaven: my vows and 
+prayers 
+
+Yet are the king's; and, till my soul forsake, 
+
+Shall cry for blessings on him: may he live 90 
+
+Longer than I have time to tell his years! 
+
+Ever beloved and loving may his rule be! 
+
+And when old time shall lead him to his end, 
+
+Goodness and he fill up one monument! 
+
+Lov. To the water side I must conduct 
+
+your grace; 
+
+Then give my charge up to Sir Nicholas Vaux, 
+
+Who undertakes you to your end. 
+
+Vaux. Prepare there, 
+The duke is coming: see the barge be ready; 
+And fit it with such furniture as suits 
+The greatness of his person. 
+
+
+Buck. Nay, Sir Nicholas, 100 
+
+
+Let it alone; my ‘state now will but mock me. 
+When I came hither, I was lord high constable 
+And Duke of Buckingham; now, poor Ed- 
+ward Bohun: 
+Yet I am richer than my base accusers, 
+That never knew what truth meant: I now 
+seal it; 
+And with that blood will make ‘em one day 
+groan for 't. 
+My noble father, Henry of Buckingham, 
+Who first raised head against usurping Richard, 
+Flying for succour to his servant Banister, 
+Being distress'd, was by that wretch betray’d, 
+And without trial fell; God's peace be with 
+him! Wi 
+Henry the Seventh succeeding, truly pitying 
+My father’s loss, like a most royal prince, 
+Restored me to my honours, and, out of ruins, * 
+Made my name once more noble. Now his 
+son, 
+Henry the Eighth, life, honour, name and all 
+That made me happy at one stroke has taken 
+For ever from the world. I had my trial, 
+And, must needs say, a noble one; which 
+makes me 
+A little happier than my wretched father: 120 
+Yet thus far we are one in fortunes: both 
+Fell by our servants, by those men we loved 
+most; 
+A most unnatural and faithless service! 
+
+
+0 | Heaven has an end in all: yet, you that hear 
+
+
+me, 
+This from a dying man receive as certain: 
+Where you are liberal of your loves and 
+counsels . i 
+Be sure you be not loose; for those you make 
+friends 
+And give your hearts to, when they once per- 
+ceive 
+The least rub in your fortunes, fall away 
+Like water from ye, never found again 130 
+But where they mean to sink ye. All good 
+people, 
+Pray for me! 
+last hour 
+Of my long weary life is come upon me. 
+Farewell: 
+And when you would say something that is sad, 
+Speak how I fell. I have done; and God for- 
+give me! [Exeunt Duke and Train. 
+First Gent. O, this is full of pity! Sir, it 
+calls, 
+I fear, too many curses on their heads 
+That were the authors. 
+
+Sec. Gent. If the duke be guiltless, 
+‘Tis full of woe: yet I can give you inkling 
+Of an ensuing evil, if it fall, 
+
+Greater than this. 
+First Gent. | Good angels keep ‘it-from us! 
+
+
+I must now forsake ye: the 
+
+
+| 
+
+
+tbl 
+
+
+= 
+
+
+tee 
+
+
+RLS 
+
+
+Act II, Sc. II] 
+
+
+What may it be? 
+faith, sir? 
+Sec. Cent. This secret is so weighty, ‘twill 
+
+require 
+
+A strong faith to conceal it. 
+
+First Gent. Let me have it; 
+I do not talk much. 
+
+Sec. Gent. I am confident; 
+You shall, sir: did you not of late days hear 
+A buzzing of a separation 
+Between the king and Katharine? 
+
+First Gent. Yes, but it held not: 
+For when the king once heard it, out of anger 
+He sent command to the lord mayor straight 
+
+
+You do not doubt my 
+
+
+_ To stop the rumour, and allay those tongues 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+That durst disperse it. 
+
+Sec. Gent. But that slander, sir, 
+Is found a truth now: for it grows again 
+Fresher than e’er it was; and held for certain 
+The king will venture at it. Either the cardinal, 
+Or some about him near, have, out of malice 
+To the good queen, possess’d h'm with a scruple 
+That will undo her: to confirm this too, 
+Cardinal Campeius is arrived, and lately; 160 
+As all think, for this business. 
+
+First Gent. *Tis the cardinal; 
+And merely to revenge him on the emperor 
+For not bestowing on him, at his asking, 
+The archbishopric of Toledo, this is purposed. 
+
+Sec. Gent. I think you have hit the mark: 
+
+but is “t not crvel 
+
+That she should feel the smart of this? The 
+cardinal 
+
+Will have his will, and she must fall. 
+
+First Gent. ‘Tis woful. 
+We are too open here to argue this; 
+Let’s think in private more. 
+
+
+Scene II. An ante-chamber in the palace. 
+
+
+Enter the Lorp CHAMBERLAIN, reading a 
+letter. 
+
+
+Cham, “My lord, the horses your lordship 
+sent for, with all the care I had, I saw well 
+chosen, ridden, and furnished. They were 
+young and handsome, and of the best breed 
+in the north. When they were ready to set out 
+for London, a man of my lord cardinal’s, by 
+commission and main power, took ‘em from 
+me; with this reason: His master would be 
+served before a subject, if not before the 
+king; which stopped our mouths, sir.’ 10 
+I fear he will indeed: well, let him have them: 
+
+
+He will have all, I think. 
+
+
+Enter, to the Lorp CHAMBERLAIN, the DUKES 
+oF NorFoL_k and SuFFOLk. 
+
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Nor. Well met, my lord chamberlain. 
+Cham. Good day to both your graces. 
+Suf. How is the king employ’d? 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII « 
+
+
+743 
+
+
+Cham. I left him private, 
+Full of sad thoughts and troubles. 
+
+Nor. What's the cause? 
+
+Cham. It seems the marriage with his 
+
+brother’s wife 
+
+Has crept too near his conscience. 
+
+Suf. No, his conscience 
+Has crept too near another lady. 
+
+Nor. Tis so: 19 
+This is the cardinal’s doing, the king-cardinal: 
+
+
+-That blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune, 
+
+
+Turns what he list. The king will know him 
+one day. 
+Suf. Pray God he do! he'll never know 
+himself else. 
+Nor. How holily he works in all his business! 
+And with what zeal! for, now he has crack’d 
+the league 
+Between us and the emperor, the queen's great 
+nephew, 
+He dives into the king’s soul, and there scatters 
+Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience, 
+Fears, and despairs; and all these for his 
+marriage: 
+And out of all these to restore the king, 30: 
+He counsels a divorce; a loss of her 
+That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years 
+About his neck, yet never lost her lustre; 
+Of her that loves him with that excellence 
+That angels love good men with; even of her 
+That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls, 
+Will bless the king: and is not this course 
+pious ? 
+Cham. Heaven keep me from such counsel! 
+‘Tis most true 
+These news are every where; every tongue 
+speaks "em, 
+And every true heart weeps for 't: all that dare 
+Look into these affairs see this main end, 4] 
+The French king’s sister. Heaven will one 
+day open 
+The king’s eyes, that so long have slept upon 
+This bold bad man. 
+Suf. And free us from his slavery. 
+Nor. We had need pray, 
+And heartily, for our deliverance; 
+Or this imperious man will work us all 
+From princes into pages: all men’s honours 
+Lie \ike one lump before him, to be fashion’d’ 
+Into what pitch he please. 
+Suf. For me, my lords, 50: 
+I love him not, nor fear him; theres my creed: 
+As I am made without him, so I'll stand, 
+If the king please; his curses and his blessings. 
+Touch me alike, they ‘re breath I not believe in. 
+I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him 
+To him that made him proud, the pope. 
+Nor. Let ’s ing 
+
+
+And with some other business put the king 
+
+
+744 ¢ 
+
+
+KING HENRY VII 
+
+
+From these sad thoughts, that work too much 
+upon him: 
+My lord, you'll bear us company? 
+
+Cham. Excuse me; 
+The king has sent me otherwhere: besides, 60 
+You 'll find a most unfit time to disturb him: 
+Health to your lordships. 
+
+Nor. Thanks, my good lord chamberlain. 
+
+[Exit Lord Chamberlain; and the 
+
+
+King draws the curtain, and sits | 
+
+
+reading pensively. 
+Suf. How sad he looks! sure, he is much 
+afflicted. 
+King. Who's there, ha? 
+Nor. Pray God he be not angry. 
+King. Who's there, I say? How dare 
+you thrust yourselves 
+Into my private meditations ? 
+
+
+Who am I? ha? 
+
+
+Nor. A gracious king that pardons all 
+offences 
+Malice ne'er meant: our breach of duty this 
+way 
+
+
+Is business of estate; in which we come 70 
+To know your royal pleasure. 
+King. Ye are too bold: 
+Go to; I'll make ye know your times of 
+business: 
+Is this an hour for temporal affairs, ha? 
+
+
+Enter Wotsty and Campeius, with a 
+commission. 
+
+
+Who's there? my good lord cardinal? O my 
+Wolsey, 
+The quiet of my wounded conscience; 
+Thou art a cure fit for a king. [To Camp.] 
+You're welcome, 
+Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom: 
+Use us and it. [To Wol.] My good lord, 
+have great care 
+I be not found a talker. 
+Wol. Sir, you cannot. 79 
+I would your grace would give us but an hour 
+Of private conference. 
+
+
+King. [To Nor. and Suf.] We are busy; 
+
+
+go. 
+Nor. [Aside to Suf.] This priest has no 
+pride in him? 
+Suf. [Aside to Nor.] Not to speak of: 
+I would not be so sick though for his place: 
+But this cannot continue. 
+Nor. [Aside to Suf.] If it do, 
+I'll venture one have-at-him. 
+Suf. [Aside to Nor.] 1 another. 
+[Exeunt Nor. and Suf. 
+Wol. Your grace has given a precedent of 
+wisdom 
+Above all princes, in committing freely 
+Your scruple to the voice of Christendom: 
+
+
+Who can be angry now? what envy reach you? — 
+
+
+The Spaniard, tied by blood and favour to her, 
+
+Must now confess, if they have any goodness, 
+
+The trial just and noble. All the clerks, 
+
+I mean the learned ones, in Christian kingdoms 
+
+Have their free voices: Rome, the nurse of 
+judgement, 
+
+Invited by your noble self, hath sent 
+
+One general tongue unto us, this good man, 
+
+This just and learned priest, Cardinal Cam- 
+peius; 
+
+Whom once more I present unto your highness. 
+
+King. And once more in mine arms I bid 
+
+him welcome, 
+
+And thank the holy conclave for their loves: 
+
+They have sent me such a man | would have 
+
+
+wish'd for. 
+
+
+Cam. Your grace must needs deserve all 
+
+
+strangers’ loves, 
+You are so noble. To your highness’ hand 
+I tender my commission; by whose virtue 
+
+
+The court of Rome commanding, you, my lord — 
+Cardinal of York, are join'd with me their — 
+
+
+servant 
+In the unpartial judging of this business. 
+King. Two equal men. The queen shall 
+be acquainted 
+Forthwith for what you come. Where's 
+Gardiner? 
+
+
+Wol. I know your majesty has always 
+110 — 
+
+
+loved her 
+So dear in heart, not to deny her that 
+A woman of less place might ask by law: 
+Scholars allow’d freely to argue for her. 
+
+
+King. Ay,*and the best she shall have; : 
+God forbid else. — 
+
+
+and my favour 
+
+To him that does best: 
+Cardinal, 
+
+Prithee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary: 
+
+
+I find him a fit fellow. [Exit Wolsey. 
+Re-enter Wo.sry, with GaRDINER. 
+Wol. 
+hand: must joy and favour to you; 
+You are the king’s now. 
+
+
+Gard. [Aside to Wol.] But to be com- | 
+
+
+manded 
+
+
+For ever by your grace, whose hand has — 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+raised me. 
+
+
+King. Come hither, Gard‘ner. 
+
+
+[Walks and whispers. 
+Cam. My Lord of York, was not one 
+
+
+Doctor Pace 
+In this man’s place before him? 
+W ol. Yes, he was. 
+Cam. Was he not held a learned man? 
+Wol. Yes, surely. 
+Cam. Believe me, there's an ill opinion 
+spread then 
+
+
+7 
+
+
+[Acr Il, Se. 
+
+
+[Aside to CGard.] Give me your 
+
+
+‘Even of yourself; lord cardinal. 
+
+ Wol. How! of me? 
+Cam. They will not stick to say you en- 
+
+| vied him, 
+
+_ And fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous, 
+Kept him a foreign man still; which so 
+
+grieved him, 
+
+
+That he ran mad and died. 
+
+
+Wol. Heaven’s peace be with him! 
+_That’s Christian care enough: for living 
+murmurers 131 
+
+
+There’s places of rebuke. He was a fool; 
+
+For he would needs be virtuous: that good 
+fellow, 
+
+If I command him, follows my appointment: 
+
+I will have none so near else. Learn this, 
+
+| brother, 
+
+We live not to be griped by meaner persons. 
+King. Deliver this with modesty to the 
+
+N queen. [Exit Gardiner. 
+
+~The most convenient place that I can think of 
+
+For such receipt of learning is Black-Friars; 
+
+There ye shall meet about this weighty busi- 
+
+ness. 
+
+_My Wolsey, see it furnish’d. O, my lord, 
+
+~ Would it not grieve an able man to leave 
+
+So sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, con- 
+
+
+science! 
+O, ‘tis a tender place; and I must leave her. 
+[Exeunt. 
+Scene III. An ante-chamber of the Queen’s 
+
+
+apartments. 
+Enter ANNE BULLEN and an Old Lady. 
+
+
+Anne. Not for that neither: here’s the 
+pang that pinches: 
+His highness having lived so long with her, 
+5 and she 
+So good a lady that no tongue could ever 
+Pronounce dishonour of her; by my life, 
+She never knew harm-doing: O, now, after 
+So many courses of the sun enthroned, 
+Still growing in a majesty and pomp, the which 
+To leave a thousand-fold more bitter than 
+* "Tis sweet at first to acquire,—after this 
+process, 
+To give her the avaunt! it is a pity 
+Would move a monster. 
+Old L. Hearts of most hard temper 
+Melt and lament for her. 
+Anne. O, God’s will! much better 
+She ne’er had known pomp: though’t be 
+| temporal, 
+Yet, if that quarrel, fortune, do divorce 
+It from the bearer, ’tis a sufferance panging 
+As soul and body’s severing. 
+
+
+Old L. Alas, poor lady! 
+She 's a stranger now again. 
+Anne, So much the more 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+10 |. 
+
+
+Must pity drop upon her. Verily, 
+I swear, ‘tis better to be lowly born, 
+
+And range with humble livers in content, 20 
+Than to be perk’d up in a glistering grief, 
+And wear a golden sorrow. 
+
+
+Old L. Our content 
+Is our best having. 
+Anne. By my troth and maidenhead, 
+
+
+I would not be a queen. 
+Old L. Beshrew me, I would, 
+And venture maidenhead for 't; and so would 
+you, 
+For all this spice of your hypocrisy: 
+You, that have so fair parts of woman on you, 
+Have too a woman’s heart: which ever yet 
+Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty; 
+Which, to say sooth, are blessings; and which 
+gifts, 30 
+Saving your mincing, the capacity 
+Of your soft cheveril conscience would receive, 
+If you might please to stretch it. 
+Anne. Nay, good troth. 
+Old L. Yes, troth, and troth; you would 
+not be a queen? 
+Anne. No, not for all the riches under 
+heaven. 
+Old L. ’Tis strange: a three-pence bow’d 
+would hire me, 
+Old as I am, to queen it: but, I pray you, 
+What think you of a duchess? have you limbs 
+To bear that load of title? 
+
+
+Anne. No, in truth. 
+Old L. Then you are weakly made: pluck . 
+off a little; 40 
+
+
+I would not be a young count in your way, 
+For more than blushing comes to: if your back 
+Cannot vouchsafe this burthen, ‘tis too weak 
+Ever to get a boy. 
+
+Anne. How you do talk! 
+
+I swear again, I would not be a queen 
+For all the world. 
+
+Old L. In faith, for little England 
+You 'Id venture an emballing: I myself 
+Would for Carnarvonshire, although there 
+
+‘long’d 
+No more to the crown but that. Lo, who 
+comes here? 
+
+
+Enter the Lorp CHAMBERLAIN. 
+
+
+Cham. Good morrow, ladies. What were ’t 
+worth to know 50 
+The secret of your conference? 
+
+Anne. My good lord, 
+Not your demand; it values not your asking: 
+Our mistress’ sorrows we were pitying. 
+
+Cham. It was a gentle business, and be- 
+
+coming 
+The action of good women: there is hope 
+
+
+All will be well. 
+
+
+746 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+[Act II, Sc. IV 
+
+
+Anne. Now, I pray God, amen! 
+Cham. You bear a gentle mind, and heav- 
+enly blessings 
+Follow such creatures. 
+lady, 
+Perceive I speak sincerely, and high note ’s 
+Ta‘en of your many virtues, the king’s majesty 
+Commends his good opin:on of you, and 61 
+Does purpose honour to you no less flowing 
+‘Than Marchioness of Pembroke; to which title 
+A thousand pound a year, annual support, 
+Out of his grace he adds. 
+
+Anne I do not know 
+What kind of my obedience I should tender; 
+More than my all is nothing: nor my prayers 
+Are not words duly hallow’d, nor my wishes 
+More worth than empty vanities; yet prayers 
+
+and wishes 
+Are all I can return. Beseech your lordship, 
+Vouchsafe to speak my thanks and my obedi- 
+ence, 
+As from a blushing handmaid, to his highness; 
+Whose health and royalty I pray for. 
+Cham. Lady, 
+I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit 
+The king hath of you. [Aside] I have 
+perused her well; 
+Beauty and honour in her are so mingled 
+That they have caught the king: and who 
+knows yet 
+But from this lady may proceed a gem 
+To lighten all this isle? I'll to the king, 
+And say I spoke with you. 
+[Exit Lord Chamberlain. 
+Anne. My honour’d lord. 80 
+Old L. Why, this it is; see, see! 
+I have been begging sixteen years in court, 
+And yet a courtier, beggarly, nor could 
+Come pat betwixt too early and too late 
+For any suit of pounds; and you, O fate! 
+A very fresh fish here—fie, fie, fie upon 
+This compell'd fortune!—have your mouth 
+fill'd uo 
+Before you open it. 
+nne. This is strange to me. 
+Old L. How tastes it? is it bitter? forty 
+pence, no. 
+There was a lady once, ‘tis an old story, 90 
+That would not be a queen, that would she not, 
+For all the mud in Egypt: have you heard it? 
+
+Anne. Come, you are pleasant. 
+
+Old L. With your theme, I could 
+O’ermount the lark. The Marchioness of 
+
+Pembroke! 
+A thousand pounds a year for pure respect! 
+No other obligation! By my life, 
+That promises moe thousands: honour’s train 
+Is longer than his foreskirt. By this time 
+I know your back will bear a duchess: say, 
+
+
+That you may, fair 
+
+
+Are you not stronger than you were? 
+Anne, Good lady, 100 
+Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy, 
+And leave me out on 't. Would I had no being, 
+If this salute my blood a jot: it faints me, 
+To think what follows. 
+The queen is comfortless, and we forgetful 
+In our long absence: pray, do not deliver 
+What here you ’ve heard to her. 
+Old L. What do you think me? 
+; [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. A hall in Black-Friars. 
+
+
+Trumpets, sennet, and cornets. Enter two 
+Vergers, with short silver wands; next 
+them, two Scribes, in the habit of, doctors; 
+after them, the ARCHBISHOP OF CANTER- 
+
+
+BuRY alone; after him, the BisHops oF — 
+
+
+Lincotn, Ey, RocHeEsTEeR, and Saint 
+AsaPH; next them, with some small dis- 
+
+
+tance, follows a Gentleman bearing the — 
+purse, with the great seal, and a cardinal’s — 
+hat; then two Priests, bearing each a silver — 
+
+
+cross; then a Gentleman-usher bare-headed, 
+accompanied with a Sergeant-at-arms bear- 
+
+
+ing a silver mace; then two Gentlemen — 
+
+
+bearing two great silver pillars; after them, 
+side by side, the two CARDINALS; two No- 
+blemen with the sword and mace. The 
+
+
+Kinc takes place under the cloth of stale; 
+
+
+the two CARDINALS sit under him as judges. 
+The QUEEN lakes place some distance from 
+the Kinc. The Bishops place themselves 
+on each side the court, in manner of a con- 
+sistory; below them, the Scribes. The 
+Lords sit next the Bishops. The rest of 
+
+
+the Attendants stand in convenient order — 
+
+
+about the stage. 
+
+
+Wol. Whilst our commission from Rome 
+
+
+is read, 
+Let silence be commanded. 
+King. What's the need? 
+
+
+It hath already publicly been read, 
+And on all sides the authority allow'd; 
+You may, then, spare that time. 
+Wol. Be't so. Proceed. 
+Scribe. Say, Henry King of England, 
+come into the court. 
+Crier. Henry King of England, &c. 
+King. Here. 
+Scribe. Say, Katharine Queen of England, 
+come into the court. in| 
+Crier. Katharine Queen of England, &c. 
+[The Queen makes no answer, rises oul 
+of her chair, goes about the court, 
+comes to the King,’ and kneels al 
+his feet; then speaks. 
+Q. Kath. Sir, I desire you do me right and 
+
+
+justice; 
+
+
+A 
+
+
+Act Il, Sc. IV] 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+747 
+
+
+And to bestow your pity on me: for 
+
+I am a most poor woman, and a stranger, 
+
+Born out of your dominions; having here 
+
+No judge indifferent, nor no more assurance 
+
+Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir, 
+
+In what have I offended you? what cause 
+
+Hath my behaviour given to your displeasure, 
+
+That thus you should proceed to put me off, 
+
+And take your good grace from me? Heaven 
+
+witness, 
+
+I have been to you a true and humble wife, 
+
+At all times to your will conformable; 
+
+Ever in fear to kindle your dislike, 
+
+Yea, subject to your countenance, glad or sorry 
+
+As | saw it inclined: when was the hour 
+
+I ever contradicted your desire, 
+
+Or made it not mine too? Or which of your 
+
+friends 
+
+Have I not strove to love, although I knew 30 
+
+He were mine enemy? what friend of mine 
+. That had to him derived your anger, did I 
+Continue in my liking? nay, gave notice 
+He was from thence discharged? Sir, call 
+
+to mind 
+That I have been your wife, in this obedience, 
+Upward of twenty years, and have been blest 
+With many children by you: if, in the course 
+And process of this time, you can report, 
+And prove it too, against mine honour aught, 
+My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty, 40 
+Against your sacred person, in God's name, 
+Turn me away; and let the foul’st contempt 
+Shut door upon me, and so give me up 
+_ To the sharp’st kind of justice. Please you, sir, 
+
+The king, your father, was reputed for 
+
+A prince most prudent, of an excellent 
+
+And unmatch’d wit and judgement: Ferdinand, 
+
+My father, king of Spain, was reckon’d one 
+
+The wisest prince that there had reign’d by 
+
+many 
+
+A year before: it is not to be question’'d 50 
+
+That they had gather’d a wise council to them 
+_ Of every realm, that did debate this business, 
+Who deem'd our marriage lawful: wherefore 
+
+I humbly 
+_ Beseech you, sir, to spare me, till I may 
+Be by my friends in Spain advised; whose 
+| counsel 
+I will implore: if not, i’ the name of God, 
+Your pleasure be fulfill’d! 
+
+Wol. You have here, lady. 
+And of your choice, these reverend fathers; men 
+Of singular integrity and learning, 
+
+Yea, the elect 0’ the land, who are assembled 
+
+To plead your cause: it shall be therefore 
+bootless 
+
+That longer you desire the court; as well 
+
+For your own quiet, as to rectify 
+
+What is unsettled in the king. 
+
+
+ye 
+
+
+Cam. His grace 
+Hath spoken well and justly: therefore, madam, 
+It’s fit this royal session do proceed; 
+And that, without delay, their arguments 
+Be now produced and heard. 
+
+
+Q. Kath. Lord cardinal, 
+To you I speak, 
+
+Wol. Your pleasure, madam? 
+
+Q. Kath. Sir, 
+
+
+I am about to weep; but, thinking that 70 
+We are a queen, or long have dream’d so, 
+certain 
+The daughter of a king, my drops of tears 
+I'll turn to sparks of fire. 
+W ol. Be patient yet. 
+Q. Kath. I will, when you are humble; 
+nay, before, 
+Or God will punish me. I do believe, 
+Induced by potent circumstances, that 
+You are mine enemy, and make my challenge 
+You shall not be my judge: for it is you 
+Have blown this coal betwixt my lord and 
+
+
+me; 
+Which God's dew quench! Therefore I say 
+again, 80 
+I utterly abhor, yea, from my soul 
+Refuse you for my judge; whom, yet once 
+more, 
+I hold my most malicious foe, and think not 
+At all a friend to truth. 
+Wol. I do profess 
+You speak not like yourself; who ever yet 
+Have stood to charity, and display'd the effects 
+Of disposition gentle, and of wisdom 
+O’ertopping woman's power. Madam, you 
+do me wrong: 
+I have no spleen against you; nor injustice 
+For you or any: how far I have proceeded, . 
+Or how far further shall, is warranted 
+By a commission from the consistory, 
+Yea, the whole consistory of Rome. 
+charge me 
+That I have blown this coal: I do deny it: 
+The king is present: if it be known to him 
+That I gainsay my deed, how may he wound, 
+And worthily, my falsehood! yea, as much 
+As you have done my truth. If he know 
+
+
+You 
+
+
+| That I am free of your report, he knows 
+
+
+I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him 
+It lies to cure me: and the cure is, to 
+Remove these thoughts from you: the which 
+before 
+
+His highness shall speak in, I do beseech 
+You, gracious madam, to unthink your speaking 
+And to say so no more. 
+
+Q. Kath. My lord, my lord, 
+I am a simple woman, much too weak 
+To oppose your cunning. You're meek and 
+
+
+humble-mouth'd; 
+
+
+748 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+ae oS 
+
+
+[Act I], $c. IV 
+
+
+You sign your place and calling, in full] A royal lady, spake one the least word that. 
+
+
+seeming, 
+With meekness oat humility; but your heart 
+Is cramm’d with arrogancy, spleen, and pride. 
+You have, by fortune and his highness’ favours, 
+Gone slightly o'er low steps and now are 
+mounted 
+Where powers are your retainers, and your 
+words, 
+Domestics to you, serve your will as ‘t please 
+Yourself pronounce their office. I must tell you, 
+You tender more your person’s honour than 
+Your high profession spiritual: that again 
+I do refuse you for my judge; and here, 
+Before you all, appeal unto the pope, 
+To bring my whole cause "fore his holiness, 
+And to be judged by him. 
+[She curisies to the King, and offers to depart. 
+Cam. The queen is obstinate, 
+Stubborn to justice, apt to accuse it, and 
+Disdainful to be tried by 't: ’tis not well. 
+She ’s going away. 
+King. Call her again. 
+Crier. Katharine Queen of England, come 
+into the court. 
+Grif. Madam, you are call’d back. 
+Q. Kath. What need you note it? pray 
+
+
+you, keep your way: 
+When you are call'd, return. Now, the Lord 
+
+
+help, 
+They vex me past my patience! Pray you, 
+pass on: 130 
+
+
+I will not tarry; no, nor ever more 
+Upon this business my appearance make 
+In any of the:r courts. 
+[Exeunt Queen, and her Attendants. 
+
+King. Go thy ways, Kate: 
+That man i’ the world who shall report he 
+
+has 
+A better wife, let him in nought be trusted, 
+For speaking false in that: thou art, alone, 
+If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness, 
+Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government, 
+Obeying in commanding, and thy parts 139 
+Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out, 
+The queen of earthly queens: she ’s noble born; 
+And, like her true nobility, she has 
+Carried herself towards me. 
+
+Wol. Most gracious sir, 
+In humblest manner I| require your highness, 
+That it shall please you to declare, in hearing 
+Of all these ears,—for where I am robb’d and 
+
+bound, 
+There must | be unloosed, although not there 
+At once and fully satisfied,—whether ever I 
+Did broach this business to your highness; or 
+Laid any scruple in your way, which might 
+Induce you to the question on ’t? or ever 
+Have to you, but with thanks to God for such 
+
+
+might 
+
+Be to the prejudice of her present state, 
+
+Or touch of her good person? 
+
+King. My: lord cardinal, 
+
+I do excuse you; yea, upon mine honour, 
+
+I free you from’t. You are not to be taught 
+
+That you have many enemies, that know not 
+
+Why they are so, but, like to village-curs, 159 
+
+Bark when their fellows do: by some of these 
+
+The queen is put in anger. Youre excused: 
+
+But will you be more justified? you ever 
+
+Have wish'd the sleeping of this business; 
+never desired 
+
+It to be stirr’d; but oft have hinder'd, oft, 
+
+The passages made toward it: on my honour, 
+
+I speak my good lord cardinal to this point, 
+
+And thus far clear him. Now, what Neh 
+me to’'t, 
+
+I will be bold with time and your attention: 
+
+Then mark the inducement. Thus it came; 
+give heed to 't: 
+
+My conscience first received a tenderness, 170 
+
+Scruple, and prick, on certain speeches utter’d 
+
+By the Bishop of Bayonne, then French am- 
+bassador; 
+
+Who had been hither sent on the debating 
+
+A marriage ‘twixt the Duke of Orleans and 
+
+Our daughter Mary: i’ the progress of this 
+business, 
+
+Ere a determinate resolution, he, 
+
+I mean the bishop, did require a respite; 
+
+Wherein he might the king his lord advertise 
+
+Whether our daughter were legitimate, 
+
+Respecting this our marriage with the dowager, 
+
+Sometimes our brother’s wife. This respite 
+shook 181 
+
+The bosom of my conscience, enter’d me, 
+
+Yea, with a splitting power, and made to 
+tremble 
+
+The region of my breast; 
+way, 
+
+That many mazed considerings did throng | 
+
+And press’d in with this caution, First, me- 
+thought 
+
+I stood not in the smile of heaven; who had 
+
+Commanded nature, that my lady’s womb, 
+
+If it conceived a male child by me, should 
+
+Do no more offices of life to ’t than 190 — 
+
+The grave does to the dead; for her male issue 
+
+Or died where they were made, or shortly after 
+
+This world had air’d them: hence I took a 
+thought, 
+
+This was a judgement on me; that my king- 
+dom 
+
+Well worthy, the best heir o° the world, should 
+not 
+
+Be gladded in’t by me: then follows, that 
+
+I weigh’d the danger which my realms stood in 
+
+
+which forced such 
+
+
+Act III, Se, I] 
+
+
+Ratan 
+Ay 
+
+
+“KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+749 
+
+
+By this my issue’s fail; and that gave to me 
+
+
+ery 
+
+
+Many a groaning throe. Thus hulling in 
+‘The wild sea of my conscience, I did steer 
+‘Toward this remedy, whereupon we are 
+Now present here together; that's to say, 
+I meant to rectify my conscience,—which 
+I then did feel full sick, and yet not well,— 
+By all the reverend fathers of the land 
+And doctors learn’d: first I began in private 
+With you, my Lord of Lincoln; you remember 
+How under my oppression I did reek, 
+‘When I rst moved you. 
+Lin. Very well, my liege. 
+King. I have spoke long: be pleased your- 
+self to say 210 
+How far you satisfied me. 
+
+Lin, So please your highness, 
+‘The question did at first so stagger me, 
+Bearing a state of mighty moment in’t 
+And consequence of dread, that I committed 
+The daring’st counsel which I had to doubt; 
+And did entreat your highness to this course 
+Which you are running here. 
+
+King. I then moved you, 
+My Lord of Canterbury; and got your leave 
+‘To make this present summons: unsolicited 
+I left no reverend person in this court; 220 
+But by particular consent proceeded 
+Under your hands and seals: therefore, go on; 
+For no d’slike i’ the world against the person 
+Of the good queen, but the sharp thorny points 
+Of my alleged reasons, drive this forward: 
+Prove but our marriage lawful, by my life 
+And kingly dignity, we are contented 
+To wear our mortal state to come with her, 
+Katharine our queen, before the primest 
+
+creature 
+‘That’s paragon’d o’ the world. 
+
+Cum. So please your highness, 230 
+‘The queen being absent, ‘tis a needful fitness 
+‘That we adjourn this court till further day: 
+Meanwhile must be an earnest mot on 
+Made to the queen, to call back her appeal 
+She intends unto his holiness. 
+
+King. [Aside] I may perceive 
+These cardinals trifle with me: I abhor 
+This dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome. 
+
+My learn’d and well-beloved servant, Cranmer, 
+Prithee, return: with thy approach, I know, 
+My comfort comes along. Break up the court: 
+I say, set on. 241 
+[Exeunt in manner as they entered. 
+
+
+- ACT IIL 
+London. The QUEEN’s apart- 
+
+
+ments. 
+The QueEN and her Women, as at work. 
+Q. Kath. Take thy lute, wench: my soul 
+grows sad with troubles; 
+
+
+Scene I. 
+
+
+Sing, and disperse ‘em, if thou canst: leave 
+working. 
+
+
+Sona. 
+
+
+Orpheus with his lute made trees, 
+As the mountain tops that freeze, 
+Bow themselves when he did sing: 
+To his music plants and flowers 
+Ever sprung; as sun and showers 
+There had made a lasting spring, 
+
+
+Every thing that heard him play, 
+Even the billows of the sea, 
+
+Hung their heads, and then lay by. 
+In sweet music is such art, 
+Killing care and grief of heart 
+
+Fall asleep, or hearing, die, 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+Enter a Gentleman. 
+
+
+Q. Kath. How now! 
+Gent. An’t please your grace, the two 
+great cardinals 
+Wait in the presence. 
+Q. Kath. Would they speak with me? 
+Gent. They will’d me say so, madam. 
+Q. Kath. Pray the:r graces 
+To come near. [Exit Cent.] What can be 
+their business 
+With me, a poor weak woman, fall’n from 
+favour > 20 
+I do not like their coming. Now I think on’t, 
+They should be good men; their affairs as 
+righteous: 
+But all hoods make not monks. 
+
+
+Enter the two Cardinals, Wotsey and 
+CaMPEIUS. 
+
+
+Wol. Peace to your highness! 
+Q. Kath. Your graces find me here part 
+of a housewife, 
+I would be all, against the worst may happen. 
+What are your pleasures with me, reverend 
+lords ? 
+Wol. May it please you, noble madam, to 
+withdraw 
+Into your private chamber, we shall give you 
+
+
+| The full cause of our coming. 
+
+
+Q. Kath. Speak it here; 
+
+There ’s nothing I have done yet, o’ my con- 
+science, 30 
+
+Deserves a corner: would all other women 
+
+Could speak this with as free a soul as I do! 
+
+My lords, I care not, so much I am happy 
+
+Above a number, if my actions 
+
+Were tried by every tongue, every eye saw 
+em, 
+
+Envy and base opinion set against ‘em, 
+
+I know my life so even. If your business 
+
+
+| Seek me out, and that way I am wife in, 
+
+
+750 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+{Acr III, Sc. 1 
+
+
+Out with it boldly: truth loves open dealing. 
+Wol. Tanta est erga te mentis integritas, 
+regina serenissima,— 
+Q. Kath. O, good my lord, no Latin; 
+I am not such a truant since my coming, 
+As not to know the language I have lived in: 
+A strange tongue makes my cause more 
+strange, suspicious; 
+Pray, speak in English: here are some will 
+thank 
+
+
+you, 
+
+If you speak truth, for their poor mistress’ 
+sake; 
+
+Believe me, she has had much wrong: lord 
+cardinal, 
+
+
+The willing’st sin I ever yet committed 
+May be absolved in English. 
+
+Wol. Noble lady, 
+I am sorry my integrity should breed, 
+And service to his majesty and you, 
+So deep suspicion, where all fa'th was meant. 
+We come not by the way of accusation, 
+
+To taint that honour every good tongue blesses, 
+
+Nor to betray you any way to sorrow, 
+
+You have too much, good lady; but to know 
+
+How you stand minded in the weighty dif- 
+ference 
+
+Between the king and you; and to deliver, 
+
+Like free and honest men, our just opinions 
+
+And comforts to your cause. 
+
+Cam. Most honour’d madam, 
+My lord of York, out of his noble nature, 
+Zeal and obedience he still bore your grace, 
+Forgetting, like a good man, your late censure 
+Both of his truth and him, which was too far, 
+Offers, as I do, in a sign of peace, 
+
+His service and his counsel. 
+
+Q. Kath. [Aside] To betray me— 
+My lords, I thank you both for your good wills; 
+Ye speak like honest men; pray God, ye 
+
+prove so! 
+But how ‘to make'ye suddenly an answer, 70 
+In such a point of weight, so near mine 
+honour,— 
+More near my Ife, I fear,—with my weak wit, 
+And to such men of gravity and learning, 
+In truth, I know not. I was set at work 
+Among my maids: full little, God knows, 
+looking 
+Either for such men or such business. 
+For her sake that I have been,—for I feel 
+The last fit of my greatness,—good your graces, 
+Let me have time and counsel for my cause: 
+Alas, I am a woman, friendless, hopeless! 
+Wol. Madam, you wrong the king’s love 
+with these fears: 
+Your hopes and friends are infinite. 
+
+Q. Kath. In England 
+But little for my profit: can you think, lords, 
+That any Englishman dare give me counsel? 
+
+
+50 
+
+
+Or be a known friend, ‘gainst his highness 
+pleasure, 
+Though he be grown so desperate to be honest, 
+And live a subject? Nay, forsooth, my friends, 
+They that must weigh out my afflictions, 
+They that my trust must grow to, live not here: 
+They are, as all my other comforts, far hence 
+In mine own country, lords. 
+Cam. I would your grace 
+Would leave your griefs, and take my counsel, 
+Q. Kath. How, sir? 
+Cam. Put your main cause into the king’s 
+protection; 
+He’s loving and most gracious: "twill be much 
+Both for your honour better and your cause; 
+For :f the trial of the law o’ertake ye, 
+You ‘ll part away disgraced. 
+Wol. 
+Q. Kath. Ye tell me what ye wish for 
+both,—my ruin: 
+Is this your Christian counsel? out upon ye! 
+Heaven is above all yet; there sits a judge 
+That no king can corrupt. 
+Cam. Your rage mistakes us, 
+Q. Kath. The more shame for ye: holy 
+men I thought ye, 
+Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues: 
+But cardinal sins and hollow hearts I fear ye: 
+Mend ’em, for shame, my lords. Is this your 
+comfort? 
+The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady, 
+A woman lost among ye, laugh’d at, scorn’d? 
+I will not wish ye half my miseries; 
+I have more charity: but say, I warn’d ye; 
+Take heed, for heaven's sake, take heed, lest 
+at once 110 
+The burthen of my sorrows fall upon ye. 
+Wol. Madam, this is a mere distraction; 
+You turn the good we offer into envy. 
+Q. Kath. Ye turn me into nothing: woe 
+upon ye 
+And all such false professors; would you 
+have me— 
+If you have any justice, any pity; 
+If ye be any thing but churchmen’s habits— 
+Put my sick cause into his hands that hates 
+me? 
+Alas, has banish’d me his bed already, 119 
+His love, too long ago! I am old, my lords, 
+And all the fellowship I hold now with him 
+Is only my obedience. What can happen 
+To me above this wretchedness? all your 
+studies 
+Make me a curse like this. 
+Cam. Your fears are worse. 
+Q. Kath. Have I lived thus long—let me 
+speak myself, 
+Since virtue finds no friends—a wife, a true 
+one? 
+
+
+He tells you rightly. 
+
+
+are 
+
+
+Act Ill, Se. II] 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+75\ 
+
+
+: 
+
+A woman, I dare say without vain-glory, 
+
+Never yet branded with suspicion? 
+
+Have I with all my full affections 
+
+Still met the king? loved him next heaven? 
+obey’d him? 130 
+
+Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him? 
+
+Almost forgot my prayers to content him? 
+
+And am I thus rewarded? ‘tis not well, lords, 
+
+Bring me a constant woman to her husband, 
+
+One that ne'er dream’d a joy beyond his 
+pleasure; 
+
+And to that woman, when she has done most, 
+
+Yet will I add an honour, a great patience. 
+
+Wol. Madam, you wander from the good 
+
+we aim at. 
+
+
+Q. Kath. My lord, I dare not make myself 
+
+so guilty, 
+
+To give up willingly that noble title 140 
+
+Your master wed me to: nothing but death 
+
+\ Shall e’er divorce my dignities. 
+-Wol. Pray, hear me. 
+Q. Kath. Would I had never trod this 
+
+English earth, 
+
+Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it! 
+
+Ye have angels’ faces, but heaven knows 
+your hearts. 
+
+What will become of me now, wretched lady! 
+
+I am the most unhappy woman living. 
+
+Alas, poor wenches, where are now your 
+fortunes! 
+
+Shipwreck’d upon a kingdom, where no pity, 
+
+No friends, no hope; no kindred weep for me; 
+
+Almost no grave allow'd me: |-ke the lily, 151 
+
+That once was mistress of the field and 
+flourished, 
+
+I'll ai: my head and perish. 
+
+If your gract 
+
+Could be brought to know our ends are 
+honest, 
+
+You ‘ld feel more comfort: 
+good lady, 
+
+Upon what cause, wrong you? alas, our places, 
+
+The way of our profession is against it: 
+
+. We are to cure such sorrows, not to sow ‘em. 
+For goodness’ sake, consider what you do; 
+How you may hirt yourself, ay, utterly 160 
+Grow from the king’s acquaintance, by this 
+
+carriage. 
+The hearts of Lsinces kiss obedience, 
+So much they love it; but to stubborn spirits 
+They swell, and grow as terrible as storms. 
+I know you have a gentle, noble temper, 
+
+A soul as’ even as a calm: pray, think us 
+Those we profess, peace-makers, friends, and 
+servants. 
+
+Cam. Madam, you'll find 
+wrong your virtues 
+With these weak women’s fears; a noble spirit, 
+As yours was put into you. ever casts 170 
+
+
+why should we, 
+
+
+You 
+
+
+it so. 
+
+
+Such doubts, as false coin, from it. 
+loves you; 
+Beware you lose it not: for us, if you please 
+To trust us in your business, we are ready 
+To use our utmost studies in your service. 
+Q. Kath. Do what ye will, my lords: and, 
+pray, forgive me, 
+If I have used myself unmannerly; 
+You know I am a woman, lacking wit 
+To make a seemly answer to such persons. 
+Pray, do my service to his majesty: 
+He has my heart yet; and shall have my 
+prayers 
+While r shall have my life. Come, reverend 
+fathers, 181 
+Bestow your counsels on me: she now begs, 
+That little thought, when she set footing here, 
+She should have bought her dignities so dear. 
+{Exeunt. 
+
+
+Ante-chamber to the Kinc’s 
+apartment. 
+
+
+Enter the Duxe oF NorFo.k, the DuKE oF 
+SuFFOLK, the EarL oF Surrey, and the 
+Lorp CHAMBERLAIN. 
+
+
+Nor. If you will now unite in your com- 
+plaints, 
+And force them with a constancy, the cardinal 
+Cannot stand under them: if you omit 
+The offer of this time, I cannot promise 
+But that you shall sustain moe new disgraces, 
+With these you bear already. 
+
+Sur. I am joyful 
+To meet the least occasion that may give me 
+Remembrance of my father-in-law, the duke, 
+To be revenged on him. 
+
+Suf. Which of the peers 
+Have uncontemn’d gone by him, or at least 
+Strangely neglected? when did he regard 
+The stamp of nobleness in any person 
+Out of himself? 
+
+Cham. My lords, you speak your pleasures: 
+What he deserves of you and me | know; 
+What we can do to him, though now the time 
+Gives way to us, 1 much fear. If you cannot 
+Bar his access to the king, never attempt 
+Any thing on him; for he hath a witchcraft 
+Cae es king in’s tongue. 
+
+O, fear him not; 
+His spell j in that is out: the king hath found 
+Matter against him that for ever mars 2) 
+The honey of his language. No, he’s settled, 
+Not to come off, in his displeasure. 
+
+Sur. Sir, 
+
+I shou!d be glad to hear such news as this 
+Once every hour. 
+
+Nor. Believe it, this is true: 
+
+In the divorce his contrary proceedings 
+Are all unfolded; wherein he .appears 
+
+
+The king 
+
+
+Scene II, 
+
+
+752 
+
+
+As I would wish mine enemy. 
+ur. How came 
+His practices to light? 
+
+
+Suf. Most strangely. 
+Sur. O, how, how? 
+Suf. The cardinal’s letters to the pope mis- 
+carried, 30 
+And came to the eye o’ the king: wherein was 
+read, 
+
+
+How that the cardinal did entreat his holiness 
+To stay the judgement o’ the divorce; for. if 
+It did take place, ‘I do,’ quoth he, ‘perceive 
+My king is tangled in affection to 
+
+A creature of the queen’s, Lady Anne Bullen,’ 
+
+Sur. Has the king this > 
+
+Suf. Believe it. 
+
+Sur. Will this work > 
+Cham. The king in this perceives him, how 
+
+he coasts 
+And hedges his own way. But in this point 
+All his tricks founder, and he brings his 
+physic 
+After his patient’s death: the king already 41 
+Hath married the fair lady. 
+Sur. Would he had! 
+Saf. May you be happy in your wish, my 
+lord! 
+For, | profess, you have it. 
+ur. Now, all my joy 
+Trace the conjunction! 
+
+Suf. y amend to’t! 
+
+Nor. All men’s! 
+
+Suf. There’s order given for her corona- 
+
+tion: 
+Marry, this is yet but young, and may be left 
+To some ears unrecounted. But, my lords, 
+She is a gallant creature, and complete 49 
+In mind and feature: I persuade me, from her 
+Will fall some blessing to this land, which 
+shall 
+In it be memorized. 
+
+Sur. But, will the king 
+D‘gest this letter of the cardinal’s? 
+
+The Lord forhid! 
+or. Marry, amen! 
+
+Suf. No, no; 
+There be moe wasps that buzz about his nose 
+Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal 
+
+Campeius 
+{s stol’n away to Rome; hath ta’en no leave; 
+Has left the cause o’ the king unhandled; and 
+Is posted, as the agent of our cardinal, 
+To second all his plot. I do assure you 60 
+The king cried Ha! at this. 
+
+Cham. Now, God incense him, 
+And let him cry Ha! louder! 
+
+Nor. But, my lord, 
+When returns Cranmer? 
+
+Suf. He is return’d in his opinions: which 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII ' 
+
+
+ce 
+
+
+[Acr I 
+
+
+LU, Sc. Tk 
+
+
+Have satisfied the king for his divorce, 
+Together with all famous colleges 
+Almost in Christendom: shortly, I believe, 
+His second marriage shall be publish’d, and 
+Her coronation. Katharine no more P 
+Shall be call’d queen, but princess dowager 70 
+And widow to Prince Arthur. 
+or. This same Cranmer’s 
+A worthy fellow, and hath ta’en much pain 
+In the king’s business. 
+Suf. He has; and we shall see him 
+For it an archbishop. 
+or. So I hear. 
+Suf. ‘Tis so. 
+The cardinal! 
+
+
+Enter Wotsty and CRoMWELL. 
+
+
+Nor. Observe, observe, he’s moody. 
+
+Wol. The packet, Cromwell, 
+
+Gave 't you the king? 
+Crom. To his own hand, in’s bedchamber, 
+Wol. Look’d he o’ the inside of the paper? 
+Crom. Present] 
+
+He did unseal them: and the first he view’'d, 
+
+He did it with a serious mind; a heed 
+
+Was in his countenance. You he bade 
+
+Attend him here this morning. 
+
+W ol. Is he ready 
+To come abroad? 
+
+Crom. I think, by this he is. 
+
+Wol. Leave me awhile. [Exit Cromwell. 
+[Aside] It shall be to the Duchess of Alencon, 
+The French king's sister: he shall marry her. — 
+Anne Bullen! No; I'll no Anne Bullens for 
+
+him: : 
+Bullen! 
+
+
+There ’s more in’t than fair visage. 
+Speedily I wish 
+
+
+No, we'll no Bullens. 
+The Marchioness of 
+90 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+To hear from Rome. 
+Pembroke! 
+Nor. He’s discontented. 
+Suf. May be, he hears the king 
+Does whet his anger to him. 
+Sur. Sharp enough, 
+Lord, for thy justice! i 
+Wol. [Aside] The late queen’s gentle 
+woman, a knight's daughter, 
+To be her mistress’ mistress! 
+gueen! 
+This candle burns not clear: ‘tis I must snuff 
+It; 
+Then out it goes. What though I know hex 
+virtuous 
+And well deserving? yet I know her for 
+A spleeny Lutheran; and not wholesome to 99 
+Our cause, that she should lie i’ the bosom of 
+Our hard-ruled king. Again, there is sprung 
+up 
+An heretic, an arch one, Cranmer; one 
+Hatb craw]'d inte the favour of the king, 
+
+
+the queen’ 
+
+
+‘Act Ill, Se. Il] 
+
+
+if 
+And is his oracle. 
+
+
+rs 
+
+
+Nor. He is vex’d at something. 
+Sur. I would ‘twere something that would 
+fret the string, 
+The master-cord on's heart! 
+
+
+DEnter the Kine, reading of a schedule, and 
+LoveELL. 
+
+
+Suf. The king, the king! 
+King. What piles of wealth hath he ac- 
+cumulated 
+To his own portion! and what expense by the 
+hour 
+Seems to flow from him! How, i’ the name 
+of thrift, 
+
+
+Does he rake this together! Now, my lords, 
+Saw you the cardinal? 
+
+Nor. My lord, we have II] 
+Stood here observing him; some strange com- 
+
+motion 
+
+Ts-in his brain: he bites his lip, and starts; 
+Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground, 
+Then lays his finger on his temple; straight 
+Springs out into fast gait; then stops again, 
+Strikes his breast hard, and anon he casts 
+His eye against the moon: in most strange 
+
+
+postures 
+We have seen him set himself. 
+King. It may well be; 
+
+
+There is a mutiny in’s mind. This morning 
+
+Papers of state he sent me to peruse, 121 
+
+As I required: and wot you what I found 
+
+There,—on my conscience, put unwittingly ? 
+
+Forsooth, an inventory, thus importing; 
+
+The several parcels of his plate, his treasure, 
+
+Rich stuffs, and ornaments of household; 
+which 
+
+I find at such proud rate, that it out-speaks 
+
+Possession of a subject. 
+
+Nor. It’s heaven’s will: 
+Some spirit put this paper in the packet, 
+To bless your eye withal. 
+
+King. If we did think 
+His contemplation were above the earth, 
+And fix’d on spiritual object, he should still 
+
+
+130 
+
+
+- Dwell in his musings: but I am afraid 
+
+
+His thinkings are below the moon, not worth 
+His serious considering. 
+[King takes his seat; whispers Lovell, who 
+goes to the Cardinal. 
+Wol. Heaven forgive me! 
+Ever God bless your highness! 
+King. © Good my lord, 
+You are full of heavenly stuff, and bear the 
+inventory 
+Of your best graces in your mind; the which 
+You were now running o’er: you have scarce 
+time 
+
+
+To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span 140 | 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+753 
+
+
+To keep your earthly audit: sure, in that 
+I deem you an ill husband, and am glad 
+To have you therein my companion. 
+Wol. Sir, 
+For holy offices I have a time; a time 
+To think upon the part of business which 
+I bear i’ the state; and nature does require 
+Her times of preservation, which perforce 
+I, her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal, 
+Must give my tendance to. 
+King. You have said well. 
+Wol. And ever may your highness yoke 
+together, 150 
+As I will lend you cause, my doing well 
+With my well saying! 
+King. Tis well said again; 
+And ’tis a kind of good deed to say well: 
+And yet words are no deeds. My father loved 
+
+
+you: 
+He said he did; and with his deed did crown 
+His word upon you. Since I had my office, 
+I have kept you next my heart, have not alone 
+Employ’d you where high profits might come 
+home, 
+But pared my present havings, to bestow 
+My bounties upon you, 
+Wol. [Aside] What should this mean? 160 
+Sur. [Aside] The Lord increase this busi- 
+
+
+ness! 
+King. Have I not made you 
+The prime man of the state? I pray you, tell 
+me, 
+
+
+If what I now pronounce you have found true: 
+
+And, if you may confess it, say withal, 
+
+If you are bound to us or no. What say you? 
+
+Wol. My sovereign, I confess your royal 
+
+graces, 
+
+Shower’d on me daily, have been more than 
+could 
+
+My studied purposes requite; which went 
+
+Beyond all man’s endeavours: my endeavours 
+
+Have ever come too short of my desires, 170 
+
+Yet filled with my abilities: mine own ends 
+
+Have been mine so that ever more they pointed 
+
+To the good of your most sacred person and 
+
+The profit of the state. For your great graces 
+
+Heap’d upon me, poor undeserver, I 
+
+Can nothing render but alleg’ant thanks, 
+
+My prayers to heaven for you, my loyalty, 
+
+Which ever has and ever shall be growing, 
+
+Till death, that winter, kill it. 3 
+
+King. Fairly answer'd; 
+
+A loyal and obedient subject is 180 
+
+Therein illustrated: the honour of it 
+
+Does pay the act of it; as, i’ the contrary, 
+
+The foulness is the punishment. I presume 
+
+That, as my hand has open’d bounty to you, 
+
+My heart dropp’d love, my power rain’d hon- 
+our more 
+
+
+754 
+
+
+On you than any; so your hand and heart, 
+
+Your brain, and every function of your power, 
+
+Should, notwithstanding that your bond of 
+duty, 
+
+As "twere in love’s particular, be more 
+
+To me, your friend, than any. 
+Wol. I do profess 190 
+That for your highness’ good I ever labour’d 
+More than mine own; +that am, have, and 
+will be— 
+
+Though all the world should crack their duty 
+to you, 
+
+And throw it from their soul; though perils 
+did 
+
+ecorss as thick as thought could make ‘em, 
+an 
+
+Appear in forms more horrid,—yet my duty, 
+
+As doth a rock against the chiding flood, 
+
+Should the approach of this wild river break, 
+
+And stand unshaken yours. 
+
+King. "Tis nobly spoken: 
+Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast, 200 
+For you have seen him open't. Read o’er 
+
+this; [Giving him papers. 
+And after, this: and then to breakfast with 
+What appetite you have. 
+[Exit King, frowning upon Cardinal 
+Wolsey: the nobles throng after 
+him, smiling and whispering. 
+Wol. What should this mean? 
+What sudden anger 's this? how have I reap’d 
+it? 
+
+He parted frowning from me, as if ruin 
+
+Leap’d from his eyes: so looks the chafed 
+lion 
+
+Upon the daring huntsman that has gall'’d him; 
+
+Then makes him nothing. I must read this 
+paper; 
+
+I fear, the story of his anger. ‘Tis so; 
+
+This paper has undone me: ‘tis the account 
+
+Of all that world of wealth I have drawn to- 
+gether 
+
+For mine own ends; indeed, to gain the 
+popedome, 
+
+And fee my friends in Rome. O negligence! 
+
+Fit for a fool to fall by: what cross devil 
+
+Made me put this main secret in the packet 
+
+I sent the king? Is there no way to cure this? 
+
+No new device to beat this from his brains? 
+
+1 know ‘twill stir him strongly; yet I know 
+
+A way, if it take right, in spite of fortune 
+
+Will bring me off again. What's this? ‘To 
+the Pope!’ 220 
+
+The letter, as I live, with all the business 
+
+I writ to’s holiness.. Nay then, farewell! 
+
+I have touch’d the highest point of all my 
+greatness ; 
+
+And, from that full meridian of my glory, 
+
+I haste now to my setting: I shall fall 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+[Acr III, Sc, 
+
+
+Like a bright exhalation in the evening. 
+And no man see me more. 
+
+
+and SuFFOLK, the EarL oF SuRREY, and 
+the Lorp CHAMBERLAIN. 
+
+
+Nor. Hear the king’s pleasure, cardinal: 
+’ who commands you 
+To render up the great seal presently 
+Into our hands; and to confine yourself 230 
+To Asher House, my Lord of Winchester’s, 
+Till you hear further from his highness. 
+
+
+Re-enter to Woxsey, the Duxres or NorFoLK . 
+i 
+4 
+
+
+ee ae 
+
+
+Wol. Stay: 
+Where's your commission, lords? words can- 
+not carry j 
+Authority so weighty. aa 
+Suf. Who dare cross ‘em, 7 
+Bearing the king’s will from his mouth ex- ; 
+pressly ? 
+Wol. Till I find more than will or words 
+to do it, 
+
+
+I mean your malice, know, offic‘ous lords, 
+I dare and must deny it. Now I feel 
+Of what coarse metal ye are moulded, envy: 
+How eagerly ye follow my disgraces, 240 — 
+As if it fed ye! and how sleek and wanton 
+Ye appear in every thing may bring my ruin! 
+Follow your envious courses, men of malice; 
+You have Christian warrant for "em, and, no — 
+doubt, ‘ 
+In time will find their fit rewards. That seal, — 
+You ask with such a violence, the king, 
+Mine and your master, with his own hand — 
+gave me; 
+Bade me enjoy it, with the place and honours, — 
+During my life; and, to confirm his goodness, 
+Tied it by letters-patents: now, who ‘Il take it? 
+Sur. The king, that gave it. 
+Wol. It must be himself, then. 
+Sur. Thou art a proud traitor, priest. } 
+Wol. Proud lord, thou liest: 
+Within these forty hours Surrey durst better 
+Have burnt that tongue than said so. 
+Sur. Thy ambition, 
+Thou scarlet sin, robb’d this bewailing land 
+Of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law: 
+The heads of all thy brother cardinals, 
+With thee and all thy best parts bound to- 
+gether, 
+Weigh'd not a hair of his. Plague of your — 
+policy! 
+You sent me deputy for Ireland; 260 
+Far from his succour, from the king, from all 
+That might have mercy on the fault thou 
+gavest him; 
+Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity, 
+Absolved him with an axe. 
+
+
+Wol. This, and all else 
+
+
+251 
+
+
+Act Ill, Sc. II] 
+
+
+This talking lord can lay upon my credit, 
+
+I answer is most false. The duke by law 
+Found his deserts: how innocent I was 
+From any private malice in his end, 
+
+His noble jury and foul cause can witness, 
+
+If I loved many words, lord, I should tell you 
+You have as little honesty as honour, 271 
+That in the way of loyalty and truth 
+Toward the king, my ever royal master, 
+Dare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be, 
+And all that love his follies. 
+
+Sur. By my soul, 
+
+Your long coat, priest, protects you; 
+shouldst feel 
+
+My sword 1’ the life-blood of thee else. My 
+lords, 
+
+Can ye endure to hear this arrogance ? 
+
+And from this fellow? If we live thus tamely, 
+
+To be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet, 280 
+
+Farewell nobility; let his grace go forward, 
+
+And dare us with his cap like larks. 
+
+Wol., All goodness 
+Is poison to thy stomach. 
+
+Sur. Yes, that goodness 
+Of gleaning all the land’s wealth into one, 
+Into your own hands, cardinal, by extortion; 
+The goodness of your intercepted packets 
+You writ to the pope against the king: your 
+
+goodness, 
+Since you provoke me, shall be most notori- 
+
+
+thou 
+
+
+ous. 
+My Lord of Norfolk, as you are truly noble, 
+As you respect the common good, the state 
+Of our despised nobility, our issues, 
+Who, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen, 
+ate the grand sum of his sins, the arti- 
+| cles 
+Collected from his life. I'll startle you 
+Worse than the:sacring bell, when the brown 
+wench 
+Lay kissing in your arms, lord cardinal. 
+Wol. How much, methinks, I could despise 
+this man, 
+But that I am bound in charity against it! 
+Nor. Those articles, my lord, are in the 
+king’s hand: 
+
+But, thus much, they are foul ones. 
+Wol. So much fairer 
+And spotless shall mine innocence arise, 
+
+When the king knows my truth. 
+Sur. This cannot save you: 
+I thank my memory, I yet remember 
+Some of these articles; and out they shall. 
+Now, if you can blush and cry ‘guilty,’ car- 
+dinal, 
+You'll show a little honesty. 
+Wol. Speak on, sir; 
+I dare your worst objections: if I blush, 
+It is to see a nobleman want manners. 
+
+
+300 
+
+
+KING HENRY VII 
+
+
+755 
+
+
+Sur. I had rather want those than my head. 
+Have at you! 
+First, that, without the king's assent or knowl- 
+edge, : 310 
+You wrought to be a legate; by which power 
+You maim’d the jurisdiction of all bishops. 
+Nor. Then, that in all you writ to Rome, - 
+or else 
+To foreign princes, ‘Ego et Rex meus’ 
+Was still inscribed; in which you brought the 
+king 
+To be your servant. 
+
+Suf. Then that, without the knowledge 
+Either of king or council, when you went 
+Ambassador to the emperor, you made bold 
+To carry into Flanders the great seal. 
+
+Sur. Item, you sent a large commission 320 
+To Gregory de Cassado, to conclude, 
+Without the king’s will or the state’s allow- 
+
+ance, 
+A league between his highness and Ferrara. 
+
+Suf. That, out of mere ambition, you have 
+
+
+caused 
+Your holy hat to be stamp’d on the king’s 
+coin. 
+Sur. Then that you have sent innumerable 
+substance— 
+By what means got, I leave to your own con- 
+
+
+science— 
+To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways 
+You have for dignities: to the mere undoing 
+Of all the kingdom. Many more there 
+are; 330 
+Which, since they are of you, and odious, 
+I will not taint my mouth with. 
+
+Cham. O my lord, 
+Press not a falling man too far! ‘tis virtue: 
+His faults lie open to the laws; let them, 
+Not you, correct him. My heart weeps to see 
+
+him 
+So little of his great self. 
+
+
+ur. I forgive him. 
+Suf. Lord cardinal, the king’s 
+
+pleasure is, 
+Because all those things you have done of late, 
+By your power legatine, within this kingdom, 
+Fall into the compass of a premunire, 340 
+That therefore such a writ be sued against 
+
+you; 
+To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements, 
+Chattels, and whatsoever, and to be 
+
+
+further 
+
+
+Out of the king’s protection. This is my 
+charge. 
+
+Nor. And so we'll leave you to your med- 
+itations 
+
+
+How to live better. For your stubborn answer 
+
+About the giving back the great seal to us, 
+
+The king shall know it, and, no doubk, shall 
+thank you. 
+
+
+756 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+t ry 
+
+
+[Acr Ill, Sc, 11. 
+
+
+So fare you well, my little good lord cardinal. | To endure more miseries and greater far 
+
+
+[Exeunt all-but Wolsey. 
+Wol. So farewell to the little good you 
+bear me. 350 
+Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! 
+This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth 
+The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blos- 
+soms, 
+And bears his blushing honours thick upon 
+him; 
+The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, 
+And, when he thinks, good easy man, full 
+surely 
+His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root, 
+And then he falls, as 1 do. I have ventured, 
+Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, 
+This many summers in a sea of glory, 360 
+But far beyond my depth: my high-blown 
+pride 
+At length broke under me and now has left me, 
+‘Weary and old with service, to the mercy 
+Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. 
+Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye: 
+I feel my heart new open’d. O, how wretch'd 
+Is that poor man that hangs on_ princes’ 
+favours! 
+There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, 
+That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, 
+More pangs and fears than wars or women 
+have: 370 
+And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, 
+
+
+Never to hope again. 
+Enter CRoMWELL, and stands amazed. 
+
+
+Why, how now, Cromwell! 
+Crom. I have no power to speak, sir. 
+
+
+Wol. What, amazed 
+
+
+At my misfortunes? can thy spirit wonder 
+
+
+A great man should decline? Nay, an you 
+weep, 
+I am fall’n indeed. 
+Crom. How does your grace? 
+Wol. Why, well; 
+
+
+Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. 
+I know myself now; and I feel within me 
+A peace above all earthly dignities, 
+
+
+A still and quiet conscience. The king has 
+cured me, 380 
+_ I humbly thank his grace; and from these 
+
+
+shoulders, 
+These ruin’d pillars, out of pity, taken 
+A load would sink a navy, too much honour: 
+O, ‘tis a burden, Cromwell, ‘tis a burden 
+Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven! 
+Crom. I am glad your grace has made that 
+right use of it. 
+Wol. 1 hope I have: I am able now, me- 
+thinks, 
+Out of a fortitude of soul I feel, 
+
+
+Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer. 
+What news abroad? 
+
+Crom. The heaviest and the worst 
+Is your displeasure with the king. 
+
+Wol. God bless him! 
+
+Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas More 
+
+is chosen 
+Lord chancellor in your place. 
+
+Wol. That’s somewhat sudden‘ 
+But he's a learned man. May he continue 
+Long in his highness’ favour, and do justice 
+For truth’s sake and his conscience; that his 
+
+
+bones, 
+When he has run his course and sleeps in 
+blessings, 
+May have a ‘tomb of orphans’ tears wept on 
+‘em! A 
+What more? : 
+Crom. That Cranmer is return’d with wel- 
+come, 400 
+Install’d lord archbishop of Canterbury. 
+Wol. That’s news indeed. { 
+Crom. Last, that the Lady Anne, 
+
+
+; 
+Whom the king hath in secrecy long married, _ 
+This day was view'd in open as his queen, _ 
+Going to chapel; and the voice is now 4 
+Only about her coronation. 
+
+
+Wol. There was the weight that pull’d me 
+
+
+down. O Cromwell, 
+The king has gone beyond me: all my glories 
+In that one woman I have lost for ever: 
+
+
+No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours, 
+
+Or gild again the noble troops that waited 411_ 
+
+Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, 
+Cromwell; 
+
+I am a poor fall’n man, unworthy now 
+
+To be thy lord and master: seek the king; 
+
+That sun, I pray, may never set! I have told 
+
+
+im 
+
+What and how true thou art: he will advance 
+thee; 
+
+Some little memory of me will stir him— 
+
+I know his noble nature—not to let 
+
+Thy hopeful service perish too: good Crom- 
+well, 
+
+Neglect him not; make use now, and provide 
+
+For thine own future safety. 
+
+Crom. O my lord, 421 
+Must I, then, leave you? must I needs forgo 
+So good, so noble and so true a master? 
+Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron, 
+With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord. 
+The king shall have my service; but my pray- 
+
+ers 
+For ever and for ever shall be yours. 
+Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed 
+a tear \ 
+In a!l my miseries; but thou hast forced me, 
+
+
+ee 
+ie ae 
+
+
+Acr IV, Se. I] 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+757 
+
+
+Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman.|I am sure, have shown at full their royal 
+
+
+Let’s dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, 
+Cromwell; 
+
+And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be, 
+
+And sleep in dull cold marble, where no 
+mention 
+
+Of me more must be heard of, say, I taught 
+thee, 
+
+Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory, 
+
+
+_And sounded all the depths and shoals of 
+
+
+honour, 
+
+
+_ Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in; 
+
+
+_A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd 
+
+
+it. 
+Mark but my fall, and that that ruin’d me. 
+Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition: 
+By that sin fell the angels; how can man, 
+then, 
+The image of his Maker, hope to win by it? 
+Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that 
+hate thee; 
+Corruption wins not more than honesty. 
+Stull in thy right hand carry gentle peace, 
+To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear 
+not: 
+
+
+Let all the ends thou aim’st at be thy country’s, 
+
+
+Thy God's, and truth’s; then if thou fall’st, 
+O Cromwell, 
+
+Thou fall’st a blessed martyr! Serve the king; 
+
+And,—prithee, lead me in: 450 
+
+There take an inventory of all I have, 
+
+To the last penny; ‘tis the king’s: my robe, 
+
+And my integrity to heaven, is all 
+
+
+I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, 
+
+
+Cromwell! 
+Had I but served my God with half the zeal 
+I served my king, he would not in mine age 
+Have left me naked to mine enemies. 
+Crom. Good sir, have patience. 
+
+
+Wol. So I have. Farewell 
+‘The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do 
+dwell. [Exeunt. 
+ACT IV. 
+Scene I. A street in Westminster. 
+
+
+Enter two Gentlemen, meeting one another. : 
+
+
+First Gent. You're well met once again. 
+~ Sec. Gent. So are you. 
+First Gent. You come to take your stand 
+here, and behold 
+The Lady Anne pass from her coronation? 
+Sec. Gent. ‘Tis all my business. At our 
+last encounter, 
+The Duke of Buckingham came from his trial. 
+First Gent. "Tis very true: but that time 
+offer'd sorrow; 
+This, general joy. 
+Sec. Gent. "Tis well: the citizens, 
+
+
+RTS ae 
+
+
+minds— 
+As, let "em have their rights, they are ever 
+forward— 
+In celebration of this day with shows, 10 
+Pageants and sights of honour. 
+First Gent. Never greater, 
+Nor, I'll assure you, better taken, sir. 
+
+
+Sec. Gent. May I be bold to ask what that 
+
+
+contains, 
+That paper in your hand? 
+First Gent. Yes; ‘tis the list 
+
+
+Of those that claim their offices this day 
+
+By custom of the coronation. 
+
+The Duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims 
+
+To re piesa next, the Duke of Nor- 
+OlK, 
+
+He to be earl marshal: you may read the rest. 
+
+Sec. Gent. I thank you, sir: had I not 
+
+known those customs, 20 
+
+I should have been beholding to your paper. 
+
+But, I beseech you, what’s become of Kath- 
+arine, 
+
+The princess dowager? how goes her busi- 
+ness > 
+
+First Gent. That I can tell you too. The 
+
+Archbishop 
+
+Of Canterbury, accompanied with other 
+
+Learned and reverend fathers of his order, 
+
+Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles off 
+
+From Ampthill where the princess lay; to 
+which 
+
+She was often cited by them, but appear’d not: 
+
+And, to be short, for not appearance and 30 
+
+The king’s late scruple, by the main assent 
+
+Of all these learned men she was divorced, 
+
+And the late marriage made of none effect: 
+
+Since which she was removed to Kimbolton, 
+
+Where she remains now sick. 
+
+
+Sec. Gent. Alas, good lady! 
+
+[ Trumpets. 
+
+The trumpets sound: stand close, the queen 
+is coming, [Hautboys. 
+
+
+THE ORDER OF THE CORONATION, 
+
+
+1. A lively flourish of Trumpets. 
+2. Then, two Judges. 
+
+3. Lord Chancellor, with the purse and 
+
+mace before him. 
+
+4. Choristers, singing. [Music. 
+
+5. Mayor of London, bearing the mace. 
+Then Garter, in his coat of arms, and 
+on his head a gilt copper crown. 
+
+Marquess Dorset, bearing a sceptre of 
+gold, on his head a demi-coronal of 
+gold. With him, the Earl of Surrey, 
+bearing the rod of silver, with the dove- 
+crowned with an earl’s coronet. Col- 
+
+
+lars of SS. 
+
+
+758 
+
+
+7. Duke of SuFFOLK, in his robe of estate, 
+his coronet on his head, bearing a long 
+white wand, as high-steward. With 
+him, the Duke of Norroik, with the 
+rod of marshalship, a coronet on his 
+head, Collars of SS. 
+
+8. A canopy borne by four of the Cinque- 
+ports; under it, the Queen in her robe; 
+in her hair richly adorned with pearl, 
+crowned. On each side her, the 
+Bishops of London and Winchester. 
+
+9. The old Duchess of NorFoLk, in a 
+coronal of gold, wrought with flowers, 
+bearing the Queen's train, 
+
+10. Certain Ladies or Countesses, with plain 
+circlets of gold without flowers. 
+
+
+They pass over the stage in order and state, 
+
+
+Sec.Gent. A royal train, believe me. 
+These I know: : 
+‘Who’s that that bears the sceptre? 
+
+First Gent. Marquess Dorset: 
+And that the Earl of Surrey, with the rod. 
+
+Sec. Gent. A bold brave gentleman. That 
+
+should be 40 
+The Duke of Suffolk? 
+
+First Gent. ‘Tis the same: high-steward. 
+
+Sec. Gent. And that my Lord of Norfolk? 
+
+First Gent, Yes. 
+
+Sec. Gent. Heaven bless thee! 
+
+[Looking on the Queen, 
+Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look’d on. 
+Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel; 
+Our king has all the Indies in his arms, 
+And more and richer, when he strains that 
+lady: 
+I cannot blame his conscience, 
+
+First Gent. They that bear 
+The cloth of honour over her, are four barons 
+Of the Cinque-ports. 
+
+Sec. Gent. Those men are happy; and so 
+
+are all are near her. 50 
+I take it, she that carries up the train 
+Is that old noble lady, Duchess of Norfolk. 
+
+First Gent. It is; and all the rest are 
+
+countesses. 
+
+Sec. Gent. Their coronets say so. These 
+
+are stars indeed; 
+And sometimes falling ones. 
+First Gent. No more of that. 
+[Exit procession, and then a great flourish 
+of trumpets. 
+
+
+Enter a third Gentleman. 
+
+
+First Gent. God save you, sir! where have 
+you been broiling? 
+Third Gent. Among the crowd i’ the Ab- 
+bey; where. a finger 
+Could not be wedged in more: | am stifled 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc. I 
+
+
+With the mere rankness of their joy. 
+Sec. Gent. You saw 
+The ceremony ? 
+Third Gent, That I did. 
+First Gent. How was it? 
+Third Gent. Well worth seeing. 
+Sec. Gent. Good sir, speak it to us. 
+Third Gent. As well as | am able. The 
+rich stream 
+Of lords and ladies, having brought the queen 
+To a prepared place in the choir, fell off 
+A distance from her; while her grace sat down 
+To rest awhile, some half an hour or so, 
+In a rich chair of state, opposing freely 
+The beauty of her person to the people. 
+Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman 
+That ever lay by man: which when the people 
+Had the full view, such a noise arose 71 
+As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest, 
+As loud, and to as many tunes: hats, cloaks,— 
+Doublets, I think——flew up; and had their 
+faces 
+Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such 
+jo 
+I never saw before. Great-bellied women, 
+That had not half a week to go, like rams 
+In the old time of war, would shake the press, 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+And make ‘em reel before ‘em. No man 
+living 
+Could say “This is my wife’ there; all were 
+woven 80 
+So strangely in one piece. 
+Sec. Gents But, what follow'd? 
+
+
+Third Gent. At length her grace rose, and 
+with modest paces 
+Came to the altar; where she kneel’d, and 
+saint-like ; 
+Cast her fair eyes to heaven and pray’d de- 
+voutly, 
+Then rose again and bow'd her to the people: 
+When by the Archbishop of Canterbury 
+She had all the royal makings of a queen; 
+As holy oil, Edward Confessor’s crown, 
+The rod, and bird of peace, and all such 
+emblems 
+Laid nobly on her: which perform'd, the choir, 
+With all the choicest music of the kingdom, 
+Together sung ‘Te Deum.’ So she parted, 
+And with the same full state paced back again 
+To York-place, where the feast is held. 
+First Gent. Sir, 
+You must no more call it York-place, that’s 
+past; 
+For, since the cardinal fell, that title 's lost: 
+‘Tis now the king's, and call’d Whitehall. 
+Third Gent. I know it; 
+But ‘tis so lately alter’d, that the old name 
+Is fresh about me. 
+Sec, Gent. What two reverend b'shops 
+
+
+RK Pa Pane ce 
+
+
+a IV, Sc. II] 
+
+
+Were those that went on each side of the 
+ueen ? 100 
+Third Gent. Stokesly and Gardiner; the 
+one of Winchester, 
+Newly preferr’d from the king’s secretary, 
+The other, London. 
+Sec. Gent. He of Winchester 
+Is held no great good lover of the archbishop’s, 
+The virtuous Cranmer. 
+Third Gent. All the land knows that: 
+However, yet there is no great breach; when 
+it comes, 
+
+
+Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink 
+from him. 
+
+Sec. Gent. Who may that be, I pray you? 
+Third Gent. homas Cromwell; 
+_A man in much esteem with the king, and 
+
+truly 
+: SA worthy friend. The king hath made him 
+master 110 
+
+
+Tey the jewel house, 
+_ And one, already, of the privy council. 
+Sec. Gent. He will deserve more. 
+
+Third Gent. Yes, without all doubt. 
+ie) gentlemen, ye shall go my way, which 
+Is to the court, and there ye’shall be my guests: 
+mething | can command. As I walk thither, 
+‘Il tell ye more. 
+Both. You may command us, sir. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+=~ 
+=9° 
+
+
+al 
+
+
+Scene II. Kimbolton. 
+
+
+Enter KATHARINE, Dowager, sick; led be- 
+tween GriFFITH, her gentleman usher, and 
+PaTIENCE, her woman. 
+
+_ Grif. How does your grace? 
+
+Kath. O Griffith, sick to death! 
+My legs, like loaden branches, bow to the 
+d earth, 
+
+‘Willing to leave their burthen. Reach a chair: 
+
+So; now, methinks, I feel a little ease. 
+
+
+a bes not tell me, Griffith, as thou led’st 
+That he great child of honour, Cardinal 
+
+
+Wolsey, 
+
+Was dead? 
+
+Grif. Yes, madam; but I think your grace, 
+Out of the pain you suffer’d, gave no ear to't. 
+Kath. Prithee, good Griffith, tell me how 
+he died: 
+If well, he stepp'd before me, happily 10 
+For mysexample. 
+
+Grif. Weil, the voice goes, madam: 
+For after the stout Earl Northumberland 
+_ Arrested ee at York, and brought him for- 
+i ward, 
+q As a man sorely tainted, to his answer, 
+
+He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill 
+: He could not sit his mule. 
+._ Katk. Alas, voor man! 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+759 
+
+
+Grif. At last, with easy roads, he came to 
+Leicester, 
+
+Lodged in the abbey; where the reverend 
+With all his covent, honourably received him; 
+To whom he gave these words, ‘O father abbot, 
+An old man, broken with the storms of state, 
+Is come to lay his weary bones among ye; 
+Give him a little earth for charity!’ 
+
+
+‘So went to bed; where eagerly his sickness 
+
+
+Pursued him still; and, three nights after this, 
+About the hour of eight, which he himself 
+Foretold should be his last, full of repentance, 
+Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows, 
+He gave his honours to the world again, 
+His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace. 
+Kath. So may he rest; his faults lie gently 
+
+
+on him! 31 
+Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak 
+him, 
+
+
+And yet with charity. He was a man 
+Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking 
+Himself with princes; one that, by suggestion, 
+Tied all the kingdom: simony was fair-play ; 
+His own opinion was his law: i’ the presence 
+He would say untruths; and be ever double 
+Both in his words and meaning: he was never, 
+But where he meant to ruin, pitiful: 40 
+His promises were, as he then was, mighty; 
+But his performance, as he is now, nothing: 
+Of his own body he was ill, and gave 
+The clergy ill example. 
+
+Grif. Noble madam, 
+Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues 
+We write in water. May it please your high~ 
+
+ness 
+
+To hear me speak his good now? 
+
+
+Kath. Yes, good Griffith; 
+I were malicious else. 
+Grif. This cardinal, 
+
+
+Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly 
+Was fashion’d to much honour from his cradle, 
+He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one; 
+Exceeding wise, fair-spoken and persuading: 
+Lofty and sour to them that loved him not; 
+
+
+-|But to those men that sought him sweet as 
+
+
+summer. 
+
+And though he were unsatisfied in getting, 
+
+Which was a sin, yet in bestowing, madam, 
+
+He was most princely: ever witness for him 
+
+Those twins of learning that he raised in you, 
+
+Ipswich and Oxford! one of which fell with 
+him, 
+
+Unwilling to outlive the good that did it; 60 
+
+The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous, 
+
+So excellent in art, and still so rising, 
+
+That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. 
+
+His overthrow heap’d happiness upon him; 
+
+For then, and not till then, he felt himself, 
+
+
+| And found the blessedness of being little: 
+
+
+760 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+And, to add greater honours to his age 
+Than man could give him, he died fearing God. 
+Kath. After my death I wish no other 
+herald, 
+No other speaker of my living actions, 70 
+To keep mine honour from corruption, 
+But such an honest chronicler as Griffith. 
+Whom I most hated l.ving, thou hast made me, 
+With thy religious truth and modesty, 
+Now in his ashes honour: peace be with him! 
+Patience, be near me still; and set me lower: 
+I have not leng to trouble thee. Good Grifhth, 
+Cause the musicians play me that sad note 
+I named my knell, whilst I sit meditating 
+On that celestial harmony I go to. 
+[Sad and solemn music. 
+Grif. She is asleep: good wench, let’s sit 
+down ~yiet, 
+For fear we wake her: softly, gentle Patience. 
+
+
+The vision. Enter, solemnly tripping one 
+after another, six personages, clad in white 
+robes, wearing on their heads garlands of 
+bays, and golden vizards on their faces; 
+branches of bays or palm in their hands. 
+They first congee unto her, then dance; and, 
+al certain changes, the first two hold a spare 
+garland over her head; at which the other 
+four make reverent curisies; then the two 
+that held the garland deliver the same to the 
+other next two, who observe the same order 
+in their changes, and holding the garland 
+over her head: which done, they deliver the 
+same garland to the last two, who likewise 
+observe the same order: at which, as it were 
+by inspiration, she makes in her sleep signs 
+of rejoicing, and holdeth up her hands to 
+heaven: and so in their dancing vanish, 
+carrying the garland with them. The music 
+continues, 
+
+
+Kath. Spirits of peace, where are ye? are 
+ye all gone, 
+And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye? 
+Grif. Madam, we are here. 
+Kath. It is not you I call for: 
+Saw ye none enter since I slept? 
+Grif. None, madam. 
+Kath. No? Saw you not, even now, a 
+blessed troop 
+Invite me to a banquet; whose bright faces 
+Cast thousand beams upon me, like the sun? 
+They promised me eternal happiness; 90 
+And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel 
+I am not worthy yet to wear: I shall, assuredly. 
+Grif. I am most joyful, madam, such good 
+dreams 
+Possess your fancy. 
+Bid the music leave, 
+They are eihaaih and heavy to me. [Music ceases. 
+
+
+Pat. Do you note 
+How much her grace is alter’d on the sudden? 
+How long her face is drawn? how pale she 
+
+looks, 
+
+And of an earthy cold? Mark her eyes! 
+Grif. She is going, wench: pray, pray. 
+Pat. eaven comfort her! 
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+_Mes. An’t like your grace,— 
+~ Kath, You are a saucy fellow: 
+Deserve we no more reverence? 
+Grif. 
+Knowing she will not lose her wonted great- 
+ness, 
+To use so rude behaviour; go to, kneel. 
+Mess. 1 humbly do entreat your highness’ 
+pardon; 
+My haste made me unmannerly, 
+staying 
+A gentleman, sent from the king, to see you. 
+
+
+100 
+
+
+There is 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc. 
+
+
+You are to blame, | 
+
+
+Kath. Admit him entrance, Griffith: but | 
+
+
+this fellow 
+
+Let me ne'er see again. 
+[Exeunt Griffith and Messenger. 
+
+Re-enter GRIFFTH, with Capucius. 
+
+. . If my sight fail not, 
+You should be lord ambassador from the 
+emperor, 109 
+My royal nephew, and your name Capucius. 
+
+Cap. Madam, the same; your servant. 
+Kath. 
+
+
+The times and titles now are alter’d strangely 
+
+
+With me since first you knew me. But, I 
+pray you, 
+What is your pleasure with me? 
+Cap. Noble lady, 
+
+
+First, mine own service to your grace; the next, 
+The king’s request that I would visit you; 
+
+
+O, my lord, 
+
+
+Who grieves much for your weakness, and by © 
+
+
+me 
+Sends you his princely commendations, 
+And heartily entreats you take good comfort. 
+Kath. O my good lord, that comfort comes 
+too late; 120 
+Tis like a pardon after execution: 
+
+
+That gentle physic, given in time, had cure 
+
+
+me; 
+But now I am past all comforts here, but 
+prayers. 
+How does his highness? 
+Cap. Madam, in good health, 
+
+
+Kath. So may he ever do! and ever flourish, 
+When J shall dwell with worms, and my poor 
+nhame 
+Banish’d the kingdom! Patience, is that letter, 
+I caused you write, yet sent away ? 
+Pat. No, madan:, 
+[Giving it to Katharina. 
+
+
+Act MG Sc. q 
+
+
+Kath. Sir, 1 most humbly pray you to 
+deliver — 
+4 BD This to my lord the king. 
+
+
+ae Cap, Most willingly, madam. 130 
+{ Kath. In which I have commended to his 
+‘ goodness 
+_ The model of our chaste loves, his young 
+q daughter: 
+
+
+_ The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on 
+her! 
+4 Beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding,— 
+_ She is young, and of a noble modest nature, 
+I hope she will deserve well,—and a little 
+if To love her for her mother’s sake, that loved 
+him, 
+' Heaven knows how dearly. 
+petition 
+: Is, that his noble grace would have some pity 
+\ Upon my wretched women, that so long 140 
+Have follow'd both my fortunes faithfully: 
+_ Of which there is not one, I dare avow, 
+_ And now I should not lie, but will deserve, 
+For virtue and true beauty of the soul, 
+For honesty and decent carriage, 
+A right good husband, let him be a noble: 
+_ And, sure, those men are happy that shall have 
+em. 
+_ The last is, for my men; they are the poorest, 
+_ But poverty could never draw ‘em from me; 
+That they may have their wages duly paid 
+em, 
+_ And something over to remember me by: 151 
+f heaven had pleased to have given me 
+longer life 
+And able means, we had not parted thus. 
+as oe the whole contents: and, good my 
+ord, 
+By that you love the dearest in this world, 
+As you wish Christian peace to souls departed, 
+Stand these poor people’s friend, and urge the 
+king 
+To do me this last right. 
+Cap. By heaven, I will, 
+Or "i me lose the fashion of a man! 
+_ Kath. 1 thank you, honest lord. Remem- 
+ber me 160 
+In all humility unto his highness: 
+‘Say his iong trouble now is passing 
+“Out of this world; tell him, in death I bless’d 
+him, 
+For so [, will. Mine eyes grow dim. Farewell, 
+‘My lord. Griffith, farewell. Nay, Patience, 
+You must not leave me yet: I must to bed; 
+Call in more women. When I am dead, eded 
+wench, 
+Let me be used with honour: strew me over 
+With maiden flowers, that all the world may 
+; know 
+I was a chaste wife to my grave: embalm me, 
+
+
+My next poor 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+761 
+
+
+Then lay me forth: although unqueen’d, yet 
+like 171 
+
+A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me. 
+
+I can no more. [Exeunt, leading Katharine. 
+
+
+ACT V. 
+
+
+London. 
+
+
+Enter GarpiNER, Bishop of Winchester, a 
+Page with a torch before him met by Sm 
+Tuomas LoveELL, 
+
+
+Gar. It’s one o'clock, boy, is 't not? 
+Boy. It hath struck, 
+Gar. These should be hours for necessities, 
+Not for delights; times to repair our nature 
+With comforting repose, and not for us 
+To waste these times. Good hour of night, 
+Sir Thomas! 
+Whither so late? 
+
+
+Scene I. A gallery in the palace. 
+
+
+Lov. | Came you from the king, my lord? 
+Gar. I did, Sir Thomas; and left him at 
+primero 
+With the Duke of Suffolk. 
+Lov. I must to him too, 
+Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave. 
+Gar. Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell. What's 
+
+
+the matter ? 10 
+
+It seems you are in haste: an if there be 
+
+No great offence belongs to 't, give your friend 
+
+Some touch of your late business: affairs, 
+that walk, 
+
+As they say spirits do, at midnight, have 
+
+In them a wilder nature than the business 
+
+That seeks dispatch by day. 
+
+Lov. My lord, I love you; 
+And durst commend a secret to your ear 
+Much weightier than this work. The queen's 
+
+in labour, 
+They say, in great extrem'ty; and fear’d 
+She ‘Il with the labour end. 
+
+Gar. The fruit she goes with 20 
+I pray for heartily, that it may find 
+Good time, and live: but for the stock, Sir 
+
+
+Thomas, 
+I wish it grubb’d up now. 
+Lov. Methinks I could 
+
+
+Cry the amen; and yet my conscience says 
+She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does 
+Deserve our better wishes. 
+
+Gar. But, sir, sir, 
+Hear me, Sir Thomas: you're a gentleman 
+Of mine own way; I know you wise, religious; 
+And, let me tell you, it will ne’er be well, 
+"Twill not, Sir Thomas Lovell, take 't of me, 
+Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and. 
+
+she, 
+
+Sleep in their graves. 
+
+Lov. Now, sir, you speak of two 
+
+
+- 
+
+
+762 
+
+
+The most remark'd i’ the kingdom. As for 
+Cromwell, 
+
+Beside that of the jewel house, is made 
+master 
+
+©’ the rolls, and the king’s secretary; further, 
+sir, 
+
+Stands in the gap and trade of moe prefer- 
+
+
+ments, 
+
+With which the time will load him. The 
+archbishop 
+
+Is the king’s hand and tongue; and who dare 
+speak 
+
+One syllable against him? 
+
+Gar. Yes, yes, Sir Thomas 
+
+There are that dare; and I myself have 
+ventured 
+
+To speak my mind of him: and indeed this 
+day, 4| 
+
+
+— Sir, I may tell it you, I think I have 
+
+Incensed the lords o’ the council, that he is, 
+
+For so I know he is, they know he is, 
+
+A most arch heretic, a pestilence 
+
+That does infect the land: with which they 
+moved 
+
+Have broken with the king; who hath so far 
+
+Given ear to our complaint, of his great grace 
+
+And princely care foreseeing those fell mis- 
+chiefs 
+
+Our reasons laid before him, hath commanded 
+
+To-morrow morning to the council-board 51 
+
+He be convented. He’s a rank weed, Sir 
+Thomas, 
+
+And we must root him out. From your affairs 
+
+I hinder you too long: good night, Sir Thomas. 
+
+Lov. Many good nights, my lord: I rest your 
+
+servant. [Exeunt Gardiner and Page. 
+
+
+Enter the Kinc and SuFFOLK. 
+
+
+King. Charles, I will play no more to-night; 
+My mind’s not ont; you are too hard for me. 
+Suf. Sir, I did never win of you before. 
+
+King. But little, Charles; 
+Nor-shall not, when my fancy ’s on my play. 
+Now, Lovell, from the queen what is the news ? 
+Lov. | could not personally deliver to her 
+What you commanded me, but by her woman 
+I sent your message; who return’d her thanks 
+In the greatest humbleness, and desired your 
+highness 
+Most heartily to pray for her. 
+King. What say’st thou, ha? 
+To pray for her? what, is she crying out? 
+Lov. So said her woman; and that her 
+sufferance made 
+Almost each pang a death. 
+King. Alas, good lady! 
+Suf. God safely quit her of her burthen, and 
+With gentle travail, to the giadding of 7) 
+Your highness with an heir! 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. } 
+
+
+King. "Tis midnight, Charles; 
+Prithee, to bed; and in thy prayers remember 
+The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alcne; 
+For I must think of that which company 
+Would not be friendly to. 
+
+Suf. I wish your highness 
+A quiet night; and my good mistress will 
+Reinember in my prayers. 
+
+
+King. Charles, good night. [Exit Suffolk. 
+Enter Sin ANTHONY DENNY. 
+
+
+Well, sir, what follows? 
+Den. Sir, I have brought my lord the arch- 
+bishop, 80 
+As you commanded me. a’ 
+King. Ha! Canterbury? 
+Den. Ay, my good lord. 
+King. *Tis true: where is he, Denny ? 
+Den. He attends your highness’ pleasure. 
+King. Bring him to us. 
+[Exit Denny. 
+Lov. [Aside] This is about that which the 
+bishop spake: 
+I am happily come hither. 
+
+
+Re-enter DENNY, with CRANMER. 
+
+
+King. Avoid the gallery. 
+to stay.] Ha! I have said. Be gone. 
+What! [Exeunt Lovell and Denny. 
+Cran. [Aside] 1 am fearful: wherefore 
+frowns he thus? 
+‘Tis his aspect of terror. Ali’s not well. 
+King. How now, my lord! you do desire 
+to know 
+Wherefore I sent for you. 
+Cran. 
+To attend your highness’ pleasure. 
+King. 
+My good and gracious Lord of Canterbury. 
+Come, you and | must walk a turn together; 
+I have news to tell you: come, come, give me 
+your hand. 
+Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak, 
+And am right sorry to repeat what follows: 
+I have, and most unwillingly, of late 
+Heard many grievous, I do say, my lord, 
+Grievous complaints of you; which, being 
+consider'd, 
+Have moved us and our council, that you shall 
+This morning come before us; where, I know, 
+You cannot with such freedom purge yoursell, 
+But that, till further trial in those charges 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+[Lovell seems — 
+
+
+[Kneeling] It is my duty 90 
+
+
+Pray you, arise, 
+
+
+Which will require your answer, you must take ~ 
+
+
+Your patience to you, and be well contented 
+
+To make your house our Tower: you a 
+brother of us, 
+
+It fits we thus proceed, or else no 4 *tness 
+
+Would come against you. 
+
+
+AS a 
+Fen 5 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+763 
+
+
+_ Act V, Sc. IT 
+
+
+Cran. [Kneeling] 1 humbly thank your 
+highness; 
+And am right glad to catch this good occasion 
+Most thoroughly to be winnow'd, where my 
+chaff 
+And corn shall fly asunder: for, I know, 111 
+There's none stands under more calumnious 
+tongues 
+Than I myself, poor man. 
+King. Stand up, good Canterbury: 
+Thy truth and thy integrity is rooted 
+In us, thy friend: give me thy hand, stand up: 
+Prithee, let’s walk. Now, by my holidame, 
+What manner of man are you? My lord, I 
+look'd 
+‘ You would have given me your petition, that 
+_ I should have ta’en some pains to bring together 
+_ Yourself and your accusers; and to have heard 
+
+
+4 you, 120 
+% Without indurance, further. 
+Cran. Most dread liege, 
+
+
+_ The good I stand on is my truth and honesty: 
+
+If they shall fail, I, with mine enemies, 
+
+_ Will triumph o'er my person; which I weigh 
+not, 
+
+Being of those virtues vacant. 
+_ What can be said against me. 
+King. Know you not 
+How your state stands i’ the world, with the 
+
+whole world? 
+Your enemies are many, and not small; their 
+practices 
+_ Must bear the same proportion; and not ever 
+The-justice ard the truth o’ the question carries 
+_ The due o’ the verdict with it: at what ease 
+_ Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt 
+_ To swear against you? such things have been 
+done. 
+You are potently opposed; and with a malice 
+Of as great size. Ween you of better luck, 
+I mean, in perjured witness, than your master, 
+Whose minister you are, whiles here he lived 
+* Upon this naughty earth? Go to, go to; 
+You take a precipice for no leap of danger, 
+And woo your own destruction. 
+
+Cran. 
+Protect mine innocence, or | fall into 
+_ The trap is laid for me! 
+
+: King. Be of good cheer; 
+_ They shall no more prevail than we give way to. 
+_ Keep comfort to you; and this morning see 
+You do appear before them: if they shall 
+chance. 
+
+In charging you with matters, to commit you, 
+The best persuasions to the contrary 
+
+- Fail not to use, and with what vehemency 
+
+_ The occasion shall instruct you: if entreaties 
+Will render you no remedy, this ring 150 
+Deliver them. and your appeal to us 
+
+
+I fear nothing 
+
+
+141 
+
+
+God and your majesty 
+
+
+There make before them. 
+man weeps! 
+
+He's honest, on mine honour. 
+mother! 
+
+I swear he is true-hearted; and a soul 
+
+None better in my kingdom. Get you gone, 
+
+And do as I have bid you. [Exit Cranmer.] 
+He has strangled 
+
+His language in his tears. 
+
+
+Enter Old Lady, Lovett following. 
+Gent. [Within] Come back: what mean 
+
+
+Look, the good 
+God's blest 
+
+
+you? 
+Old L. I'll not come back; the tidings 
+that I bring 
+Will make my boldness manners. Now, good 
+angels 159 
+
+
+Fly o'er thy royal head, and shade thy person 
+Under their blessed wings! 
+
+King. Now, by thy looks 
+I guess thy message. Is the queen deliver'd? 
+Say, ay; and of a boy. 
+
+Old L. Ay, ay, my liege; 
+And of a lovely boy: the God of heaven 
+Both now and ever bless her! ‘tis a girl, 
+Promises boys hereafter. Sir, your queen 
+Desires your visitation, and to be 
+Acquainted with this stranger: ‘tis as like you 
+As cherry is to cherry. 
+
+
+King. Lovell! 
+
+Lov, Sir? 
+
+King. Give her an hundred marks. I ‘Il to 
+the queen. [Exit 
+
+
+id L. An hundred marks! 
+I'll ha’ more. 
+An ordinary groom is for such payment. 
+I will have more, or scold it out of him. 
+Said I for this, the girl was like to him? 
+I will have more, or else unsay ‘t; and now, 
+While it is hot, I"ll put it to the issue. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. Before the council-chamber. 
+Pursuivants, Pages, &c., attending. 
+Enter CraNMER, Archbishop of Canterbury. 
+Cran. I hope I am not too late; and yet 
+
+the gentleman, 
+That was sent to me from the council, pray'd 
+
+
+by this light, 
+171 
+
+
+me 
+To make great haste. All fast? what means 
+this? Ho! 
+
+
+Who waits there? Sure, you know me? 
+Enter Keeper. 
+
+
+Keep. Yes, my lord; 
+But yet I cannot help you. 
+Cran. Why? 
+
+
+Enter Doctor Butts. 
+
+
+Keep. Your grace must wait till you be 
+call'd for. 
+
+
+764 
+
+
+rE en oe La aa 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII [Acr V, Se. Ik 
+
+
+Cran. So. 
+Butts. [Aside] This is a piece of malice. 
+
+
+Why are we met in council? 
+Crom. Please your honours, 
+
+
+I am glad 
+I came this way so happily: the king 
+Shall understand it presently. [ Exit. 
+Cran. [Aside] ‘Tis Butts, 10 
+The king’s physician: as he pass’d along, 
+How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me! 
+Pray heaven, he sound not my disgrace! 
+certain, 
+This is of purpose laid by some that hate me— 
+God turn their hearts! I never sought their 
+malice— 
+To quench mine honour: 
+to make me 
+Wait else at door, a fellow-counsellor, 
+"Mong boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their 
+pleasures 
+
+
+Must be fulfill’d, and I attend with patience. 
+
+
+Enter the Kine and Butts at a window 
+above. 
+
+
+For 
+
+
+they would shame 
+
+
+Butts. I'll show your grace the strangest 
+sight— 
+
+King. What's that, Butts? 20 
+
+Butis. 1 think your highness saw this many 
+a day. 
+
+King. Body o’ me, where is it? 
+
+Butts. There, my lord: 
+
+
+The high promotion of his grace of Canter- 
+bury; 
+
+Who holds his state at door, "mongst pursui- 
+vants, 
+
+Pages, and footboys. 
+
+King. Ha! ’tis he, indeed: 
+
+Is this the honour they do one another? 
+
+‘Tis well there's one above ‘em yet. 
+thought 
+
+They had parted so much honesty among ‘em, 
+
+At least, good manners, as not thus to suffer 
+
+A man of his place, and so near our favour, 
+
+To dance attendance on their lordships’ pleas- 
+ures, 
+
+And-at the door too, like a post with packets. 
+
+By holy‘Mary, Butts, there ’s knavery: 
+
+Let em alone, and draw the curtain close: 
+
+We shall hear more anon. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. The Council-Chamber. 
+
+
+Enter Lorp CHANCELLOR; places himself at 
+the upper end of the table on the left hand ; 
+a seat being left void above him, as for 
+'CANTERBURY'S seal. DUKE OF SUFFOLK, 
+Duke or NorroLk, Surrey, Lorp CHAM- 
+BERLAIN, GARDINER, seat themselves in 
+order on each side. CROMWELL al lower 
+end. as secretary. Keeper at the door. 
+
+
+Chan. Speak to the business, master sec- 
+retary: 
+
+
+I had 
+
+
+The Si cause concerns his grace of Cantet- 
+ury. 
+Gar. Has he had knowledge of it? 
+Crom. Yes. 
+Who waits there> 
+Keep. Without, my noble lords? 
+Gar. Yes. 
+Keep. My lord archbishop; 
+And has done half an hour, to know your 
+pleasures. 
+Chan. Let him come in. 
+Keep. Your grace may enter now. 
+[Cranmer enters and approaches. 
+the council-table. 
+Chan. My good lord archbishop, I’m very 
+sorry 
+To sit here at this present and behold 
+That chair stand empty: but we all are men, 
+In our own natures frail, and capable 
+Of our flesh; few are angels: out of which 
+frailty 
+And want of wisdom, you, that best should 
+teach us, 
+Have misdemean’d yourself, and not a little, 
+Toward the king first, then his laws, in filling 
+The whole realm, by your teaching and your 
+chaplains, 
+For so we are inform'd, with new opinins, 
+Divers and dangerous; which are heresies, 
+And, not reform'’d, may prove pernicious, 19 
+Gar. Which reformation must be sudden too, 
+My noble lords; for those that tame wild horses 
+Pace ‘em not in their hands to make ‘em gentle, 
+
+
+But stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and — 
+
+
+spur ‘em, 
+Till they obey the manage. If we suffer, 
+Out of our easiness and childish pity 
+To one man’s honour, his contagious sickness, 
+Farewell all phys:c: and what follows then? 
+Commotions, uproars, with a general taint 
+Of the whole state: as, of late days, our 
+
+neighbours, 
+The upper Germany, can dearly witness, 30 
+Yet freshly pitied in our memories. 
+
+Cran. 
+
+progress 
+Both of my life and office, I have labour'd, 
+And with no little study, that my teaching 
+And the strong course of my authority 
+Might go one way, and safely; and the end 
+Was ever, to do well: nor is there living, 
+I speak it with a single heart, my lords, 
+A man that more detests, more stirs against, 
+Both in his private conscience and his place, 
+Defacers of a public peace, than I do.. 
+
+
+Pray heaven, the king may never find a heart 
+| With less allegiance in it! 
+
+
+Men that make 
+
+
+My good lords, hitherto, in all the ~ 
+
+
+Envy and crooked malice nourishment 
+
+are bite the best. 1 do beseech your lord- 
+ships, 
+
+That, in this case of justice, my accusers, 
+
+Be what they will, may stand forth face to face, 
+And freely urge against me. 
+
+Suf. Nay, my lord, 
+That cannot be: you are a counsellor, 
+
+And, by that virtue, no man dare accuse you. 
+Gar. My lord, because we have business 
+q of more moment, 
+~ We will be short with you. "Tis his high- 
+P ness’ pleasure, 
+
+_ And our consent, for better trial of you, 
+From hence you be committed to the Tower; 
+Where, being but a private man again, 
+
+You shall know many dare accuse you boldly, 
+- More than, I fear, you are provided for. 
+~ _ Cran. Ah, my good Lord of Winchester, 
+ay I thank you; 
+
+You are always my good friend; if your will 
+pass, 
+
+DT shall both find your lordship judge and juror, 
+
+You are so merciful: I see your end; 6l 
+Tis my undoing; love and meekness, lord, 
+Become a churchman better than ambition: 
+
+- Win straying souls with modesty again, 
+Cast none away. That I shall clear myself, 
+Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience, 
+
+I make as little doubt, as you do consc ence 
+In doing daily wrongs. I could say more, 
+But reverence to your calling makes me 
+modest. 
+
+Gar, My lord, my lord, you are a sectary, 
+That's the plain truth: your painted gloss 
+4 discovers, 
+
+‘To men that understand you, words and 
+weakness. 
+
+Crom. My Lord of Winchester, you are 
+a little, 
+
+By your good favour, too sharp; men so noble, 
+However faulty, yet should find respect 
+For what they have been: ‘tis a cruelty 
+To load a falling man. 
+
+Bs Gar: Good master secretary, 
+
+I cry your honour mercy; you may, worst 
+Of all this table, say so. 
+
+Crom. Why, my lord? 
+
+Gar. Do not I know you for a favourer 
+_ Of this new sect? ye are not sound, 
+Crom, Not sound? 
+_ Gar, Not sound, I say. 
+Be Crom. Would you were half so honest! 
+_ Men's prayers then would seek you, not their 
+
+
+fears. 
+Gar. I shall remember this bold language. 
+Crom. Do. 
+
+
+Remember your bold life too. 
+Chan. This is too much; 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+765 
+
+
+Forbear, for shame, my lords. 
+Gar. I have done. 
+Crom. And I. 
+Chan. Then thus for you, my lord: it 
+stands agreed, 
+I take it, by all voices, that forthwith 
+You be convey’d to the Tower a prisoner; 89 
+There to remain till the king’s further pleasure 
+Be known unto us: are you all agreed, lords? 
+All. We are. 
+Cran. Is there no other way of mercy, 
+But I must needs to the Tower, my lords? 
+Gar. What other 
+Would you expect? you are strangely trou- 
+blesome. 
+Let some o’ the guard be ready there. 
+
+
+Enter Guard. 
+
+
+Cran. For me> 
+Must I go like a traitor thither? 
+
+Gar, Receive him, 
+And see him safe 1’ the Tower. 
+
+
+Cran. Stay, good my lords, 
+I have a little yet to say. Look there, my 
+lords; 
+
+
+By virtue of that ring, I take my cause 
+
+Out of the gripes of cruel men, and give it 
+
+To a most noble judge, the king my master. 
+Cham. This is the king’s ring. 
+
+
+Sur. "Tis no counterfeit. 
+Suf. ’Tis the right ring, by heaven: I told 
+ye all, 
+When we first put this dangerous stone 
+a-rolling, 
+
+
+"Twould fall upon ourselves. 
+
+Nor. Do you think, my lords, 
+The king will suffer but the little finger 
+Of this man to be vex’d? 
+
+Chan. "Tis now too certain: 
+How much more is his life in value with him? 
+Would I were fairly out ont! 
+
+Crom. My mind gave me, 
+In seeking tales and informations 110 
+Against this man, whose honesty the devil 
+And his disciples only envy at, 
+
+Ye blew the fire that burns ye: now have at yel 
+
+
+Enter Kine, frowning on them; takes his 
+seat, 
+
+
+Gar. Dread sovereign, how much are we 
+bound to heaven 
+In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince; 
+Not only good and wise, but most religious: 
+One that, in all obedience, makes the church 
+The chief aim of his honour; and, to strengthen 
+That holy duty, out of dear respect, 
+His royal self in judgement comes to hear 
+The cause betwixt her and this great offender. 
+King. You were ever good at sudden com- 
+snendations. 
+
+
+766 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+pAcrave Sc:plN 
+
+
+a a a 
+
+
+Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not 
+
+To hear such flattery now, and in my presence; 
+
+They are too thin and bare to hide offences. 
+
+To me you cannot reach, you play the spaniel, 
+
+And think with wagging of your tongue to 
+win me; 
+
+But, whatsoe’er thou takest me for, I'm sure 
+
+Thou hast a cruel nature and a bloody. 
+
+{To Cranmer] Good man, sit down. Now 
+let me see the proudest 130 
+
+He, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee: 
+
+By all that’s holy, he had better starve 
+
+Than but once think this place becomes thee 
+not. 
+
+Sur. May it please your grace,— 
+King. No, sir, it does not please me. 
+
+1 had thought I had had men of some under- 
+standing 
+
+And wisdom of my council; but I find none. 
+
+Was it d'scretion, lords, to let this man, 
+
+This good man,—few of you deserve that 
+title— 
+
+This honest man, wait like a lousy footboy 
+
+At chamber-door? and one as great as you are? 
+
+Why, what a shame was this! Did my com- 
+mission 141 
+
+Bid ye so far forget yourselves? I gave ye 
+
+Power as he was a counsellor to try him, 
+
+Not as a groom: there’s some of ye, I see, 
+
+More out of malice than integrity, 
+
+Would try him to the utmost had ye mean; 
+
+Which ye shall never have while I live. 
+
+
+Chan. Thus far, 
+
+My most dread sovereign, may it like your 
+grace 
+
+To let my tongue excuse all, What was pur- 
+posed 
+
+
+Concerning his imprisonment, was rather, 150 
+If there be faith in men, meant for his trial, 
+And fair purgation to the world, than malice, 
+I'm sure, in me. 
+
+King. Well, well, my lords, respect him; 
+Take him, and use him well, he’s worthy of it, 
+I will say thus much for him, if a prince 
+May be beholding to a subject, I 
+An, for his love and service, so to him. 
+Make me no more ado, but all embrace him: 
+Be friends, for shame. my lords! My Lord 
+
+of Canterbury, 160 
+I have a suit which you must not deny me; 
+That is, a fair young maid that yet wants 
+baptism, 
+You must be godfather, and answer for her. 
+Cran. The greatest monarch now alive may 
+glory 
+In such an honour: how may | deserve it, 
+That am a poor and humble subject to you? 
+
+King. Come, come, my lord, you ‘ld spare 
+
+your spoons: you shal have two noble part- 
+
+
+ners with you; the old Duchess of Norfolk, 
+and Lady Marquess Dorset: will these please 
+you? 170 
+Once more, my Lord of Winchester, I charge 
+
+
+Embrace and love this man. 
+
+
+Gar. With a true heart 
+And brother-love I do it. 
+Cran. And let heaven 
+
+
+Witness, how dear I hold this confirmation. 
+King. Good man, those joyful tears show 
+thy true heart: 
+The common voice, I see, is verified 
+Of thee, which says thus, ‘Do my Lord of 
+Canterbury 
+
+
+A shrewd turn, and he is your friend for ever. 
+
+
+Come, lords, we trifle ttme away; I long 
+
+To have this young one made a Christian. 180 
+
+As | have made ye one, lords, one remain; 
+
+So I grow stronger, you more honour ga'n. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. The palace yard. 
+
+
+Noise and tumult within. Enter Porter and 
+his Man. 
+
+
+Port. You'll leave your noise anon, ye 
+rascals: do you take the court for Paris- 
+garden? ye rude slaves, leave your gaping. 
+
+[Within] Good master porter, I belong to 
+the larder. 
+
+Port. Belong to the gallows, and be hanged, 
+ye rogue! is this a place to roar in? Fetch me 
+a dozen crab*tree staves and strong ones: these 
+are but switches to ‘em. I'll scratch your 
+heads: you must be seeing christenings? do you 
+look for ale and cakes here, you rude rascals? 
+
+Man. Pray, sir, be patient: ‘tis as much 
+
+impossible— 
+Unless we sweep ‘em from the door with 
+cannons— 
+To scatter ‘em, as ‘tis to make ‘em sleep 
+On May-day morning; which will never be: 
+We may as well push against Powle’s, as 
+stir ‘em. 
+Port. How got they in, and be hang’d? 
+Man. Alas, 1 know not; how gets the tide 
+in? 
+As much as one sound cudgel of four foot— 
+You see the poor remainder—could distribute, 
+I made no spare, sir. 
+Port. You did nothing, sr. 21 
+Man. I am not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor 
+Colbrand, 
+
+
+To mow ‘em down before me: but if I spared 
+
+
+any 
+
+That had a head to hit, either young or old, 
+He or she, cuckold or cuckold-maker, 
+
+Let me ne'er hope to see a chine again; 
+And that I would not for a cow, God save her! 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+ae 
+
+
+at 
+
+
+Act V, Se. V] 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+767 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+[Within] Do you hear, master porter? 
+' Port. 1 shall be with you presently, good 
+master puppy. Keep the door close, sirrah. 
+Man. What would you have me do? 
+Port. What should you do, but knock ‘em 
+down by the dozens? Is this Moorfields to 
+
+
+muster in? or have we some strange Indian 
+
+
+are able to endure. 
+_ Limbo Patrum, and there they are like to 
+
+
+~ banquet of two beadles that is to come. 
+
+
+with the great tool come to court, the women 
+so besiege us? Bless me, what a fry of for- 
+nication is at door? On my Christian con- 
+science, this one christening will beget a thou- 
+sand; here will be father, godfather, and 
+all together. 39 
+
+Man. The spoons will be the bigger, sir. 
+
+
+_. There is a fellow somewhat near the door, he 
+
+
+should be a brazier by his face, for, o’ my 
+conscience, twenty of the dog-days now reign 
+in’s nose; all that stand about him are under 
+
+
+“the line, they need no other penance: that fire- 
+
+
+drake did I hit three times on the head, and 
+
+
+three times was his nose discharged against 
+me; he stands there, like a mortar-piece, to 
+blow us. 
+
+
+There was a haberdasher’s wife of 
+small wit near him, that railed upon me till 
+her pinked porringer fell off her head, for 
+
+
+kindling such a combustion in the state. I 
+missed the meteor once, and hit that woman; 
+who cried out ‘Clubs!’ when I might see from 
+
+
+far some forty truncheoners draw to her suc- 
+cour, which were the hope o’ the Strand, where 
+she was quartered. They fell on; I made 
+good my place: at length they came to the 
+broom-staff to me; I defied ‘em still: when 
+suddenly a file of boys behind ‘em, loose shot, 
+aelivered such a shower of pebbles, that I was 
+
+
+_ fain to draw mine honour in, and let ‘em win 
+
+
+the work: the devil was amongst ‘em, I think, 
+
+
+surely. 
+
+
+Port. These are the youths that thunder at 
+
+
+= a playhouse, and fight for bitten apples; that 
+
+
+no audience, but the tribulation of Tower-hill, 
+or the limbs of Limehouse, their dear brothers, 
+I have some of ‘em in 
+
+
+dance these three days; besides the running 
+
+
+70 
+Enter Lorp CHAMBERLAIN. 
+
+
+Cham. Mercy o' me, what a multitude are 
+
+here} 
+
+They grow still too; from all parts they are 
+coming, 
+
+As if we kept a fair here! 
+porters, 
+
+These lazy knaves? 
+hand, fellows: 
+
+
+Where are these 
+
+
+Ye have made a fine 
+
+
+. There ‘sa trim rabble let in: are all these 
+Your faithful friends o’ the suburbs? 
+
+
+We 
+shall have 
+
+
+Great store of room, no doubt, left for the 
+ladies, 
+When they pass back from the christening. 
+Port. An't please your honour, 
+We are but men; and what so many may do, 
+Not being torn a-pieces, we have done: 80 
+An army cannot rule ‘em. 
+
+
+Cham. As I live, 
+
+
+If the king blame me for’t, I'll lay ye all 
+
+
+By the heels, and suddenly; and on your heads 
+Clap round fines for neglect: ye are lazy 
+knaves; 
+And here ye lie baiting of bombards, when 
+Ye should do service. Hark! the trumpets 
+sound; 
+They ‘re come already from the christening: 
+Go, break among the press, and tind a way oul 
+To let the troop pass fairly; or I'll find 
+A Marshalsea shall hold ye play these two 
+months. 90 
+Port. Make way there for the princess. 
+Man. You great fellow, 
+Stand close up, or I "ll make your head ache. 
+Port. You i’ the :amlet, get up o’ the rail; 
+Ill peck you o’er the pales else. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene V. The palace. _ 
+
+
+Enter trumpets, sounding; then two Alder- 
+men, Lorp Mayor, GARTER, CRANMER, 
+Duxke or NorFoLk with his marshal’s 
+staf, DuKE oF SUFFOLK, two Noblemen 
+bearing great standing-bowls for the chris- 
+tening-gifls; then four Noblemen bearing 
+a canopy, under which the DucHESS OF 
+NorFo_k, godmother, bearing the child 
+richly habited in a manile, &c., train borne 
+by a Lady; then follows the MaRCHIONESS 
+Dorset, the other godmother, and Ladies. 
+The troop pass once about the stage, and 
+GarTER speaks. 
+
+
+Gart. Heaven, from thy endless goodness, 
+send prosperous life, long, and ever happy, 
+to the high and mighty princess of England, 
+Elizabeth! 
+
+
+Flourish. Enter Kine and Guard, 
+
+
+Cran. [Kneeling] And to your royal grace, 
+and the good queen, 
+My noble partners, and myself, thus pray: 
+All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady, 
+Heaven ever laid up to make parents happy, 
+May hourly fall upon ye! 
+
+
+King. | Thank you, good lord archbishop: 
+What is her name? 
+
+Cran. Elizabeth. 
+
+King. Stand up, lord. 10 
+
+
+[The King kisses the child, 
+With this kiss take my blessing: God protec 
+thee! 
+
+
+768 
+
+
+Into whose hand I give thy life. 
+
+
+Cran. Amen, 
+King. My noble gossips, ye have been too 
+prodigal: 
+
+
+I thank ye heartily; so shall this lady, 
+When she has so much English. 
+
+
+Cran. Let me speak, sir, 
+
+For heaven now bids me; and the words I 
+utter 
+
+Let none think flattery, for they ‘ll find ‘em 
+truth, 
+
+
+This royal infant—heaven still move about 
+her !— 
+
+Though in her cradle, yet now promises 
+
+Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings, 
+
+Which time shall bring to ripeness: she eel 
+be— | 
+
+But few now living can behold that goodness— 
+
+A pattern to all princes living with her, 
+
+And alli that shall succeed: Saba was never 
+
+More cevetous of wisdom and fair virtue 
+
+Than this pure soul shall be: all princely 
+graces, 
+
+That mould up such a mighty piece as this is, 
+
+‘With all the virtues that attend the good, 
+
+Shall still be doubled on her: truth 
+nurse her, 
+
+Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her: 
+
+She shall be loved and fear’d: her own shall 
+bless. her; 3 
+
+Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn, 
+
+And hang ther heads with sorrow: good 
+grows with her: 
+
+In her days every man shall eat in safety, 
+
+Under his own vine, what he plants; and 
+sing 
+
+The merry songs of peace to all his nighbours: 
+
+God shall be truly known; and those about her 
+
+From her shall read the perfect ways of honour, 
+
+And by those claim their greatness, not by 
+blood. 
+
+Nor shall this peace sleep with her: but as 
+when 
+
+‘The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix, 
+
+Her ashes new create another heir, : 
+
+As great in admiration as herself; 
+
+So shall she leave her blessedness to one, 
+
+When heaven shall call her from this cloud 
+of darkness, 
+
+Who from the sacred ashes of her honour 
+
+Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was, 
+
+And so stand fix'd: peace, plenty, love, truth, 
+terror, 
+
+That were the servants to this chosen infant, 
+
+Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him: 
+
+Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine, 
+
+
+shall 
+
+
+KING HENRY VIII 
+
+
+His honour and the greatness of his name 
+
+
+Shall be, and make new nations: he shall 
+
+
+flourish, 
+
+And, like a mountain cedar, reach his 
+branches 
+
+To all the plains about him: our children’s 
+children 
+
+
+Shall see this, and bless heaven. 
+King. Thou speakest wonders. 
+Cran. She shall be, to the happiness of 
+England, 
+An aged princess; many days shall see her, 
+And yet no day without a deed to crown it. 
+Would I had known no more! but she must ~ 
+die, 60) 
+She must, the saints must have her; yet a 
+virgin, 
+A most unspotted lly shall she pass 
+To ve ground, and all the world shall mourn 
+er. 
+King. O lord archbishop, 
+Thou hast made me now a man! never, before 
+This happy child, did I get any thing: 
+This oracle of comfort has so pleased me, 
+That when I am in heaven I shall desire 
+To see what this child does, and praise my 
+Maker. 
+{ thank ye all. To you, my good lord mayor, 
+And your good brethren, I am much beholding; 
+I have received much honour by your presence, 
+Ana ye shall find me thankful. Lead the way, 
+lords: , 
+Ye must all see the queen, and she must 
+thank ye, 
+She w Il be sick else. This day, no man think 
+Has business at his house; for all shall stay: 
+This little one shall make it holiday. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+EPILOGUE. 
+
+
+"Tis ten to one this play can never please 
+All that are here: some come to take their ease, 
+And sleep an act or two; but those, we fear, 
+We have frightea with our trumpets; so, ‘tis 
+
+clear, Ata 
+They ‘Il say "tis naught: others, to hear the city 
+Abused extremely, and to cry “That's witty!’ 
+Which we have not done neither: that, I fear, 
+All the expected good we're like to hear 
+Fer this play at this time, is only in 
+The merciful construction of good women; 
+For such a one we show'd "em: if they smile, 
+And say ‘twill do, I know, within a while 
+All the best men are ours; for ‘tis ill hap, 
+If they hold when their ladies bid ‘em clap. 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+ADEM ee 
+
+
+Priam, king of Troy. 
+Hector, | 
+TROILUs, 
+Paris, 
+DEIPHOBUS, 
+HELENUus, 
+MarGARELON, a bastard son of Priam. 
+FENEAS, 
+ANTENOR, 
+Catcuas, a Trojan priest, taking part with 
+
+ig the Greeks. 3 
+Panparus, uncle to Cressida. 
+AcaMEMNon, the Grecian general. 
+MENELAUs, his brother. 
+
+_ ACHILLES, 
+
+Ajax, 
+
+_ ULyssEs, 
+
+_ NEsTor, 
+DIOMEDEs, 
+PAaTROCLUS, 
+
+
+| 
++ his sons. 
+| 
+
+
+a 
+¥ 
+i), : 
+i 
+
+
+t Trojan commanders. 
+
+
+| 
+\ Grecian princes. 
+i 
+| 
+J 
+
+
+PROLOGUE. 
+
+
+_In-Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of 
+
+- » Greece 
+
+_ The princes orgulous, their high blood chafed, 
+Have to the port of Athens sent their ships, 
+
+_ Fraught with the ministers and instruments 
+
+Of cruel war: sixty and nine, that wore 
+
+_ Their crownets regal, from the Athenian bay 
+Put forth toward Phrygia; and their vow is 
+
+made 
+
+To ransack Troy, within whose strong immures 
+
+The ravish’d Helen, Menelaus’ queen, 
+
+With wanton Paris sleeps; and that *s the 
+
+quarrel. 10 
+
+To Tenedos they come; : 
+
+And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge 
+
+Their warlike fraughtage: now on Dardan 
+
+i plains 
+
+“The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch 
+
+_ Their brave pavilions: Priam’s six-gated city, 
+
+Dardan, and Tymbria, Helias, Chetas, Troien, 
+
+And Anternorides, with massy staples 
+
+_ And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts, 
+
+_ Sperr up the sons of Troy. 
+
+_ Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits, 
+
+_ On one and other side, Trojan and Greek, 
+
+Sets all on hazard and hither am I come 
+
+_ A prologue arm’d, but not in confidence 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSON/E 
+
+
+TuersirEes, a deformed and_ scurrilous 
+Grecian. 
+
+ALEXANDER, servant to Cressida. 
+
+Servant to Troilus. 
+
+Servant to Paris. 
+
+
+Servant to Diomedes. 
+
+HELEN, wife to Menelaus. 
+
+ANDROMACHE, wife to Hector. 
+
+CassANDRA, daughter to Priam, a pro- 
+phetess. 
+
+Cressipa, daughter to Calchas. 
+
+
+Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attendants. 
+
+
+Scene: Troy, and the Grecian camp 
+before it. 
+
+
+Of author’s pen or actor's voice, but suited 
+
+In like conditions as our argument, 
+
+To tell you, fair beholders, that our play 
+
+Leaps o'er the vaunt and firstlings of those 
+broils, 
+
+Beginning in the middle, starting thence away 
+
+To what may be digested in a play. 
+
+Like or find fault; do as your pleasures are: 
+
+Now good or bad, “tis but the chance of war. 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+Scene I. Troy. Before Priam’s palace. 
+Enter Troitus armed, and PANDARUS. 
+
+
+Tro. Call here my varlet; 
+again: 
+
+Why should I war without the walls of Troy, 
+
+That find such cruel battle here within? 
+
+Each Trojan that is master of his heart, 
+
+Let him to field; Troilus, alas! hath none. 
+Pan. Will this gear ne’er be mended? 
+Tro. The Greeks are strong and skilful 
+
+to their strength, 
+
+Fierce to their skill and to their fierceness 
+
+valiant; 
+
+But I am weaker than a woman’s tear, 
+
+Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance, 
+
+Less valiant than the virgin in the night 
+
+
+I'll unarm 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+769 
+
+
+770 
+
+
+And skilless as unpractised infancy. 
+
+Pan, Well, I have told you enough of this: 
+for my part, I'll not meddle nor make no 
+further. He that will have a cake out of the 
+wheat must needs tarry the grinding. 
+
+Tro. Have I not tarried? 
+
+Pan. Ay, the grinding; but you mast tarry 
+
+the bolting. 
+
+Tro. Have I not tarried? 
+
+Pan. Ay, the bolting, but you must tarry 
+
+the leavening. 20 
+
+Tro. Still have I tarried. 
+
+Pan. Ay, to the leavening; but here's yet 
+in the word ‘hereafter’ the kneading, the 
+making of the cake, the heating of the oven 
+and the baking; nay, you must stay the 
+
+
+cooling too, or you may chance to burn your 
+lips. 
+Tro. Patience herself, what goddess e’er 
+
+
+she be, 
+Doth lesser blench at sufferance than I do. 
+At Priam’s royal table do I sit; 
+And when fair Cressid comes 
+
+
+into my 
+
+thoughts,— 30 
+
+So, traitor! ‘When she comes!’ When is she 
+thence? 
+
+Pan. Well, she looked yesternight fairer 
+
+
+than ever I saw her look, or any woman else. 
+Tro. I was abovt to tell thee:—when my 
+heart, 
+As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain, 
+Lest Hector or my father should perceive me, 
+I have, as when the sun doth light a storm, 
+Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile: 
+But sorrow, that is couch’d in seeming glad- 
+Ness, 
+Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness. 
+Pan. An her hair were not somewhat 
+darker than Helen'’s—well, go to—there were 
+no more comparison between the women; but, 
+for my part she is my kinswoman; I would 
+not, as they term it, praise her: but I would 
+somebody had heard her talk yesterday, as I 
+did. -I will not dispraise your sister Cassan- 
+dra’s wit, but— 
+Tro. O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus,— 
+When I do tell thee, there my hopes lie 
+drown'd, 
+Reply not in how many fathoms deep 50 
+They lie indrench'd. I tell thee I am mad 
+In Cressid’s love: thou answer’st ‘she is fair;’ 
+Pour’st in the open ulcer of my heart 
+Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her 
+voice, 
+Handlest in thy discourse, O, that her hand, 
+In whose comparison all whites are ink, 
+Writing their own reproach, to whose soft 
+seizure 
+The cygnet’s down is harsh and spirit of sense 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. 1 
+
+
+Hard as the palm of ploughman: 
+tell’st me, 
+
+As true thou tell’st me, when I say I love her; 
+
+But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm, 61 
+
+
+Thou lay’st in every gash that love hath given — 
+
+
+me 
+The knife that made it. 
+
+Pan. | speak no more than truth. 
+
+Tro. Thou dost not speak so much. 
+
+Pan. Faith, Ill not meddle in’t. Let her 
+be as she is: if she be fair, "tis the better for 
+her; an she be not, she has the mends in her 
+own hands, 
+
+Tro. Good Pandarus, how now, Pandarus! 
+Pan. | have had my labour for my travail; 
+ill-thought on of her and ill-thought on of 
+you; gone between and between, but small 
+
+thanks for my labour. 
+
+Tro. What, art thou angry, Pandarus? 
+what, with me? 
+
+Pan. Because she’s kin to me, therefore 
+she’s not so fair as Helen: an she were not 
+kin to me, she would be as fair on Friday as 
+Helen is on Sunday. But what care 1? I 
+care not an she were a black-a-moor; ‘tis all 
+one to me. 
+
+Tro. Say I she is not fair> 
+
+Pan, I do not care whether you do or no, 
+She's a fool to stay behind her father; let 
+her to the Greeks: for my part, I'll med- 
+dle nor make no more i’ the matter. 
+
+Tro. Pandarus,— 
+
+Pan. NotI. 
+
+Tro. Sweet Pandarus,— 
+
+Pan, Pray you, speak no more to me: | 
+will leave all as I found it, and there an 
+end, 91 
+
+[Exit Pandarus. An alarum. 
+Tro. Peace, you ungracious clamours! 
+peace, rude sounds! 
+fool on both sides! Helen must needs be 
+air, 
+ayes with your blood you daily paint her 
+thus. 
+I cannot fight upon this argument; 
+It is too starved a subject for my sword. 
+
+
+But Pandarus,—O gods, how do you plague — 
+
+
+me! 
+
+I cannot come to Cressid but by Pandar; 
+And he’s as tetchy to be woo'd to woo, 
+As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit. 100 
+Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne’s love, 
+What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we? 
+Her bed is India; there she lies, a pearl: 
+Between our Ilium and where she resides, 
+
+Let it be call’d the wild and wandering flood, 
+Ourself the merchant, and this sailing Pandar 
+Our doubtful hope, our convoy and our bark. 
+
+Alarum. Enter FENEAS. 
+
+
+this thou — 
+
+
+ct lel Piiiee e siali 
+
+
+4 
+4 
+
+
+Act, Sell) 
+
+
+4Ene. How now, Prince Troilus! where- 
+fore not afield? 
+Tro. Because not there: this woman’s an- 
+swer sorts, 
+For womanish it is to be from thence. 110 
+What news, Azneas, from the field to-day ? 
+ZEne. That Paris returned home and hurt. 
+Troy. By whom, /Eneas? 
+ne, Troilus, by Menelaus. 
+Tro. Let Paris bleed: ‘tis but a scar to 
+scorn; 
+Paris is gored with Menelaus’ horn. [Alarum. 
+ZEne. Hark, what good sport is out of 
+town to-day! 
+Tro. Better at home, if ‘would I might’ 
+were ‘may. 
+But to the sport abroad: are you bound 
+thither ? 
+Ene. In all swift haste. 
+
+
+- [ro. Come, go we then together. 
+[Exeunt. 
+Scene II. The same. A street. 
+
+
+Enter CressipA and ALEXANDER. 
+
+
+Who were those went by? 
+Queen Hecuba and Helen. 
+
+Cres. And whither go they > 
+
+Alex. Up to the eastern tower. 
+alse, height commands as subject all the 
+
+vale, 
+To see the battle. Hector, whose patience 
+Is, as a virtue, fix’d, to-day was moved: 
+He. chid Andromache and struck his ar- 
+morer, 
+And, like as there was husbandry in war, 
+Before the sun rose he was harness’d light, 
+And to the field goes he; where every flower 
+Did as a prophet, weep what it foresaw 10 
+In Hector’s wrath. 
+Cres. What was the cause of anger? 
+Alex. The noise goes, this: there is among 
+the Greeks 
+A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector; 
+They call him Ajax. 
+
+Cres. Good; and what of him? 
+
+Alex. They say he is a very man per se, 
+And stands alone. 
+
+Cres. So do all men, unless they are 
+
+drunk, sick, or have no legs. 
+
+Alex. This man, lady, hath robbed many 
+beasts of their particular additions; he is as 
+valiant as the lion, churlish as the bear, slow 
+as the elephant: a man into whom nature hath 
+so crowded humours that his valour is crushed 
+into folly, his folly is sauced with discretion: 
+there is no man hath a virtue that he hath not 
+a glimpse of, nor any man an attaint but he 
+
+
+_eerries some stain of it: he is melancholy with- 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+ee ee ee a aa ee ena 
+
+
+do you talk of? 
+How do you, cousin? 
+
+
+came? 
+came to Ilium? Helen was not up, was she? 
+
+
+771 
+
+
+out cause, and merry against the hair: he hath 
+the joints of every thing, but every thing so 
+out of joint that he is a gouty Briareus, many 
+hands and no use, or purblind Argus, all eyes 
+and no sight. 3 
+
+
+Crzs. But how should this man, that makes 
+
+
+me smile, make Hector angry? 
+
+
+Alex. They say he yesterday coped Hector 
+
+
+in the battle and struck him down, the disdain 
+-and shame whereof hath since kept Hector 
+fasting and waking. 
+
+
+Cres. 
+Alex. 
+
+
+Who comes here? 
+Madam, your uncle Pandarus. 
+
+
+Enter PANDARUS. 
+
+
+Cres. Hector’s a gallant man. 40 
+Alex, As may be in the world, lady. 
+Pan. What’s that? what's that? 
+Cres. Good morrow, Uncle Pandarus. 
+Pan. Good morrow, Cousin Cressid: what 
+Good morrow, Alexander. 
+When were you at 
+[lium ? 
+
+Cres. This morning, uncle. 
+
+Pan. What were you talking of when I 
+Was Hector armed and gone ere ye 
+
+
+Cres. 
+
+
+Hector was gone, but Helen was 
+
+
+not up. 
+
+
+Pan. E’en so: Hector was stirring early. 
+Cres. That were we talking of, and of his 
+anger. 
+
+
+Pan, Was he angry? 
+Cres. So he says here. 
+Pan. True, he was so: I know the cause 
+
+
+too: he'll lay about him to-day, I can tell 
+them that; and there's Troilus will not come 
+far behind him; let them take heed of Troilus, 
+I can tell them that too. 61 
+
+Cres. What, is he angry too? 
+
+Pan. Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better 
+man of the two. 
+
+Cres. O Jupiter! there’s no comparison. 
+
+
+Pan. What, not between Troilus and 
+Hector? Do you know a man if you see 
+him? 
+
+
+Cres. Ay, if I ever saw him before and 
+knew him. 
+
+Pan. Well, I say Troilus is Troilus. 70 
+
+Cres. Then you say as I say; for, I am 
+sure, he is not Hector. 
+
+Pan. No, nor Hector is not Troilus in 
+some degrees. 
+
+Cres. "Tis just to each of them; he is 
+himself. 
+
+
+Pan. Himself! Alas, poor Troilus, I 
+would he were. 
+‘Cres. So ke 5. 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+ade <3 ; 
+772 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA [Acr I, Sc. 1 : 
+
+
+Pan. Condition, I had gone barefoot to 
+India. 
+
+Cres. He is not Hector. 81 
+
+Pan. Himself! no, he’s: not himself: 
+would a’ were himself! Well, the gods are 
+above; time must friend or end: well Troilus, 
+well: I would my heart were in her body. 
+No, Hector is not a better man than Troilus. 
+
+Cres. Excuse me. 
+
+Pan. He is elder. 
+
+Cres. Pardon me, pardon me. 89 
+
+Pan, ‘Th’ other ’s not come to ’t; you shall 
+tell me another tale, when th’ other ’s come 
+to’t. Hector shall not have his wit this year. 
+
+Cres. He shall not need it, if he have 
+his own. 
+
+Pan. Nor his qualities. 
+
+Cres. No matter. 
+
+Pan. Nor his beauty. 
+
+Cres. *Twould not become him; his own ’s 
+better. 
+
+Pan. You have no judgement, niece: 
+Helen herself swore th’ other day, that 
+Troilus, for a brown favour—for so ‘tis, I 
+must confess,—not brown. neither,— 
+
+Cres. No, but brown. 
+
+Pan. ‘Faith, to say truth, brown and not 
+brown. : 
+
+'. Cres. To say the truth, true and not true. 
+
+Pan. She praised his complexion above 
+Paris. 
+
+Cres. Why, Paris hath colour enough. 
+
+Pan. So he has. 10 
+
+Cres. Then Troilus should have too 
+much; if she praised him above, his com- 
+plexion is higher than his; he having colour 
+enough, and the other higher, is too flaming a 
+praise for a good complexion. I had as lief 
+Helen’s golden tongue had commended 
+Troilus for a copper nose. 
+
+Pan. I swear to you, | think Helen loves 
+him better than Paris. 
+
+Cres. Then she’s a merry Greek indeed. 
+
+Pan., Nay, I am sure she does. She came 
+to him th’ other day into the compassed win- 
+dow,—and, you know, he has not past three 
+or four hairs on his chin,— 
+
+Cres. Indeed, a tapster’s arithmetic may 
+soon bring his particulars therein to a total. 
+
+Pan. Why, he is very young: and yet will 
+he, within three pound, lift as much as his 
+brother Hector. 
+
+Cres. Is he so young a man and so old a 
+lifter? 129 
+
+Pan. But to prove to you that Helen loves 
+him: she came and puts me her white hand to 
+his cloven chin— 
+
+
+Cres. Juno have mercy! how came it 
+cloven? 
+
+
+Per. Why, you know, ‘tis dimpled: } 
+think his smiling becomes him better than any — 
+man in all Phrygia. 
+
+Cres. O, he smiles valiantly. 
+
+Pan. Does he not? 
+
+Cres. O yes, an “twere a cloud in autumn. 
+
+Pan. Why, go to, then: but to prove to 
+you that Helen loves Troilus — 14] 
+
+Cres, Troilus will stand to the proof, if 
+you 'll prove it so. 
+
+Pan. Troilus! why, he esteems her no more 
+than I esteem an addle egg. 
+
+Cres. If you love an addle egg as well as 
+you love an idle head, you would eat chickens ’ 
+1’ the shell. # 
+
+Pan. I cannot choose but laugh, to think’’ — 
+how she tickled his chin: indeed, she has 4 
+marvellous white hand, I must confess,— 
+
+Cres. Without the rack. 
+
+Pan. And she takes upon her to spy a _ 
+white hair on his chin. ‘ 
+
+Cres. Alas, poor chin! many a wart is 
+richer. 1 
+Pan, But there was such laughing! Queen _ 
+Hecuba laughed until that her eyes ran o'er. 
+
+Cres. With mill-stones. \ 
+
+Pan. And Cassandra laughed. f 
+
+Cres. But there was more temperate fire 
+under the pot of her eyes: did her eyes run 
+o'er too? 161 
+
+Pan. And Hector laughed. 
+
+Cres. At what was all this laughing? 
+
+Pan. Marky, at the white hair that Helen 
+spied on Troilus’ chin. 
+
+Cres. An’t had been a green’ hair, I 
+should have laughed too. 
+
+Pan, They laughed not so much at the 
+hair as at his pretty answer. 
+
+Cres. What was his answer? 170 
+
+Pan. Quoth she, ‘Here ’s but two and fifty 
+hairs on your chin, and one of them is 
+white. 
+
+Cres. This is her question. ' 
+
+Pan. That’s true; make no question of 
+that. ‘Two and fifty hairs,” quoth he, ‘and 
+one white: that white hair is my father, and — 
+all the rest are his sons.’ ‘Jupiter!’ quoth she, 
+‘which of these hairs is Paris my husband?’ 
+“The forked one,’ quoth he, ‘pluck ‘t out, and 
+give it him.’ But there was such laughing! 
+and Helen so blushed, and Paris so chafed, 
+and all the rest so laughed, that it passed. 
+
+Cres. So let it now; for it has been a 
+great while going by. 
+
+Pan. Well, cousin, I told you a_ thing 
+yesterday; think on’t. , 
+
+Cres. So I do. 
+
+Pan. I'll be sworn ‘tis true; he will weep 
+you, and ‘twere a man born in April. 
+
+
+Cres. And I'll spring up in his tears, an 
+"twere a nettle against May. 19 
+a [A retreat sounded. 
+
+Pan. Hark! they are coming from the 
+- field; shall we stand up here, and see them 
+as they pass toward Ilium? good niece, do, 
+sweet niéce Cressida. 
+
+Cres. At your pleasure. 
+
+Pan. Here, here, here’s an excellent 
+_ place; here we may see most bravely: I'll 
+tell you them all by their names as they pass 
+by; but mark Troilus above the rest. 200 
+
+Cres. Speak not so loud. 
+
+
+FENEAS passes. 
+
+
+Pan. That’s Azneas: is not that a brave 
+man? he’s one of the flowers of Troy, I can 
+tell you: but mark Troilus; you shall see 
+anon. 
+
+
+ANTENOR passes. 
+
+
+Cres. Who's that? 
+
+Pan. That’s Antenor: he has a shrewd 
+wit, I can tell you; and he’s a man good 
+enough: he’s one o’ the soundest judgements 
+_ in Troy, whosoever, and a proper man of per- 
+son. When comes Troilus? Ill show you 
+Troilus anon: if he sees me, you shall see 
+him nod at me. 2\ 
+Cres. Will he give you the nod? 
+
+Pan. You shall see. 
+
+Cres. If he do, the rich shall have more. 
+
+
+_ HEcTor passes. 
+
+
+Pan. That's Hector, that, that, look you, 
+that; there ’s a fellow! Go thy way, Hector! 
+_ There’s a brave man, niece. O brave Hec- 
+tor. Look how he looks! there's a counte- 
+nance! ist not a brave man? 
+Cres. O, a brave man! 220 
+Pan. Is a’ not? it does a man’s heart good. 
+Look you what hacks are on his helmet! look 
+you yonder, do you see? look you there: 
+ there’s no jesting; there's laying on, take 't 
+off who will, as they say: there be hacks! 
+_ Cres. Be those with swords? 
+Pan. Swords! any thing, he cares not; an 
+_ the devil come to him, it’s all one; by God’s 
+lid, it does one’s heart good. Yonder comes 
+Paris, yonder comes Paris. 230 
+
+
+MU ee 
+
+
+Paris passes. 
+
+
+Look ye yonder, niece; is’t not a gallant 
+man too, is’t not? Why, this is brave now. 
+Who said he came hurt home to-day? he’s 
+not hurt: why, this will do Helen’s heart 
+good now, ha! Would | could see Troilus 
+now! You shall see Troilus anon. 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+773 
+
+
+HELENUS passes. 
+Cres. Who's that? 
+
+
+Pan. That’s Helenus. I marvel where 
+Troilus is. That’s Helenus. I think he went 
+not forth to-day. That’s Helenus. 240 
+
+Cres. Can Helenus fight, uncle? 
+
+Pan. Helenus? no. Yes, he'll fight in- 
+different well. I marvel where Troilus is. 
+Hark! do you hear the people cry “Troilus’> 
+Helenus is a priest. 
+
+Cres. What sneaking 
+yonder ? 
+
+
+fellow comes 
+
+
+TROILUS passes. 
+Pan. Where? yonder? that’s Deiphobus. 
+
+
+’Tis Troilus! there’s a man, niece! Hem! 
+Brave Troilus! the prince of chivalry! 
+Cres. Peace, for shame, peace! 250 
+Pan. Mark him: note him. O brave 
+
+
+Troilus! Look well upon him, niece; look 
+you how his sword is bloodied, and his helm 
+more hacked than Hector’s, and how he looks, 
+and how he goes! ©O admirable youth! he 
+ne’er saw three and twenty. Go thy way, 
+Troilus, go thy way! Had I a sister were 
+a grace, or a daughter a goddess, he should 
+take his choice. O admirable man! Paris? 
+Paris is dirt to him; and, I warrant, Helen, 
+to change, would give an eye to boot. 260 
+Cres. Here comes more. 
+
+
+Forces pass. 
+
+
+Pan. Asses, fools, dolts! chaff and bran, 
+chaff and bran! porridge after meat! I 
+could live and die i’ the eyes of Troilus. 
+Ne’er look, ne'er look; the eagles are gone: 
+crows and daws, crows and daws! I had 
+rather be such a man as Troilus than Aga- 
+memnon and all Greece. 
+
+Cres. There is among the Greeks Achilles, 
+a better man than Troilus. 
+
+Pan. Achilles! a drayman, a porter, a very 
+camel, 271 
+
+Cres. Well, well. 
+
+Pan. ‘Well, well!’ Why, have you any 
+discretion? have you any eyes? do you know 
+what a man is? Is not birth, beauty, good 
+shape, discourse, manhood, learning, gentle- 
+ness, virtue, youth, liberality, and such like, 
+the spice and salt that season a man? 
+
+Cres. Ay, a minced man: and then to be 
+baked with no date in the pie, for then the 
+man’s date’s out. 281 
+
+Pan. You are such a woman! one knows 
+not at what ward you lie. 
+
+Cres. Upon my back, to defend my 
+belly; upon my wit, to defend my wiles; upon 
+my secrecy, to defend mine honesty; my 
+mask, to defend my beauty; and you, to de- 
+
+
+774 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc, I 
+
+
+fend all these: and at all wards I lie, at a 
+thousand watches. 
+
+Pan. Say one of your watches. 290 
+
+Cres. Nay, I'll watch you for that; and 
+that's one of the chiefest of them too: if I 
+cannot ward what I would not have hit, I 
+can watch you for telling how I took the 
+blow; unless it swells past hiding, and then 
+it’s past watching. 
+
+Pan, You are such another! 
+
+
+Enter Troitus’s Boy. 
+
+
+Boy. Sir, my lord would instantly speak 
+with you. 
+
+Pan, Where? 299 
+
+Boy. At your own house; there he unarms 
+him. 
+
+Pan. Good boy, tell him I come. [Exit 
+Boy.] 1 doubt he be hurt. Fare ye well, 
+good niece. 
+
+Cres. Adieu, uncle. 
+
+Pan. I'll be with you, niece, by and by. 
+
+Cres. To bring, uncle? 
+
+Pan. Ay, a token from Troilus. 
+
+Cres, By the same token, you are a bawd. 
+
+[Exit Pandarus. 
+Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love's full 
+sacrifice, 
+He offers in another's enterprise: 
+But more in Troilus thousand fold I see 310 
+Than in the glass of Pandar’s praise may be; 
+Yet hold I off. Women are angels, wooing: 
+Things won are done; joy’s soul lies in the 
+doing. 
+That she beloved knows nought that knows 
+not this: 
+Men prize the thing ungain’d more than it is: 
+That she was never yet that ever knew 
+Love got so sweet as when desire did sue. 
+Therefore this maxim out of love I] teach: 
+Achievement is command; ungain'd, be- 
+seech: 
+Then though my heart's content firm love 
+doth bear 320 
+Nothing of that shall from my eyes appear. 
+
+
+[Exeunt. 
+Scene III. The Grecian Camp. Before 
+Agamemnon's tent. 
+Sennet. Enter AGAMEMNON, NEsrTor, 
+Utysses, MENELAUus, and _ others. 
+Agam. Princes, 
+What grief hath set the jaundice on your 
+cheeks ? 
+
+
+The ample proposition that hope makes 
+
+In all designs begun on earth below 
+
+Fails in the promised largeness: checks and 
+disasters 
+
+Grow in the veins of actions highest rear’d, 
+
+
+As knots by the conflux of meeting sap, 
+
+Infect the sound pine and divert his grain 
+
+Tortive and errant from his course of growth. 
+
+Nor, princes, is it matter new to us 10 
+
+That we come short of our suppose so far 
+
+That after seven years’ siege yet Troy walls 
+stand; 
+
+Sith every action that hath gone before, 
+
+Whereof we have record, trial did draw 
+
+Bias and thwart, not answering the aim, 
+
+And that unbodied figure of the thought 
+
+That gave 't surmised shape. Why then, you 
+princes, . 
+
+Do you with cheeks abash’d behold our 
+works, : 
+
+And call them shames? 
+nought else 
+
+But the protractive trials of great Jove 
+
+To find persistive constancy in men: 
+
+The fineness of which metal is not found 
+
+In fortune’s love; for then the bold and 
+coward, : 
+
+The wise and the fool, the artist and unread, 
+
+The hard and soft, seem all affined and kin: 
+
+But, in the wind and tempest of her frown, 
+
+Distinction, with a broad and powerful fan, 
+
+Puffing at all, winnows the light away; 
+
+And what hath mass or matter, by itself 
+
+Lies rich in virtue and unmingled. 30 
+
+Nest. With due observance of thy god- 
+
+like seat, 
+
+Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply 
+
+Thy latest words. In the reproof of chance 
+
+Lies the true proof of men: the sea being 
+smooth, 
+
+How many shallow bauble boasts dare sail 
+
+Upon her patient breast, making their way 
+
+With those of nobler bulk! 
+
+But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage 
+
+The gentle Thetis, and anon behold 
+
+The strong-ribb 'd bark through liquid moun- 
+tains cut, 40 
+
+Bounding between the two moist elements, ~ 
+
+Like Perseus’ horse: where's then the saucy 
+boat 
+
+Whose weak untimber’d sides but even now 
+
+iy ‘d greatness? Ejther to harbour 
+eq, 
+
+Or made a toast for Neptune. Even so 
+
+Doth valour’s show and valour’s worth divide 
+
+In storms of fortune; for in her ray and 
+brightness 
+
+The herd hath more annoyance by the breese 
+
+Than by the tiger; but when the splitting 
+wind 
+
+Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks, 50 
+
+And flies fled under shade, why, then the 
+thing of courage 
+
+As roused with rage doth sympathize, 
+
+
+which are indeed. 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+Act I, Sc. Il] 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 775 
+And with an accent tuned in selfsame key | What plagues and what portents! wha. 
+Retorts to chiding fortune. mutiny ! 
+Ulyss. Agamemnon, 
+Thou great commander, nerve and bone of 
+Greece, 
+
+
+Heart of our numbers, soul and only spirit, 
+
+In whom the tempers and the minds of all 
+
+Should be shut up, hear what Ulysses speaks. 
+
+Besides the applause and approbation 
+
+The which, [To Agamemnon] most mighty 
+for thy place and sway, 60 
+
+[To Nestor] And thou most reverent for thy 
+stretch ‘d-out life 
+
+I give to both your speeches, which were 
+such 
+
+As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece 
+
+Should hold up high in brass, and such 
+again 
+
+As venerable Nestor, hatch’d in silver, 
+
+Should with a bond of air, strong as the axle- 
+tree 
+
+On which heaven rides, knit all the Greekish 
+ears 
+
+To his experienced tongue, yet let it please 
+both, 
+
+Thou great, and wise, to hear Ulysses speak. 
+
+Agam. Speak, Prince of Ithaca; and be’t 
+
+of less expect 70 
+
+That matter needless, of importiess burden, 
+
+Divide thy lips, than we are confident, 
+
+When rank Thersites opes his mastic jaws, 
+
+We shall hear music, wit and oracle. 
+
+Ulyss. Troy, yet upon his basis, had been 
+
+_down, 
+
+And the great Hector’s sword had lack'd a 
+
+
+Taaster, 
+
+
+_ But for these instances. 
+
+
+_ What honey is expected? 
+
+
+The specialty of rule hath been neglected: 
+And, look, how many Grecian tents do stand 
+Hollow upon this plain, so many hollow 
+factions. 
+When that the general is not like the hive 81 
+To whom the foragers shall all repair, 
+Degree being viz- 
+arded, 
+
+
+_ The unworthiest shows as fairly in the mask. 
+_ The heavens themselves, the planets and this 
+
+
+centre 
+
+
+Observe degree, priority and place, 
+
+
+Insisture, course, proportion, season, form, 
+
+Office and custom, in all line of order; 
+
+And thétefore is the glorious planet Sol 
+
+In noble eminence enthroned and sphered 90 
+
+Amidst the other; whose medicinable eye 
+
+Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil, 
+
+And posts, like the commandment of a king, 
+
+Sans check to good and bad: but when the 
+planets 
+
+In evil mixture to disorder wander, 
+
+
+What raging of the sea! shaking of earth! 
+
+Commotion in the winds! frights, changes, 
+horrors, 
+
+Divert and crack, rend and deracinate 
+
+The unity and married calm of states 100 
+
+Quite from their fixture! O, when degree is 
+
+»  shaked, 
+
+Which is the ladder of all high designs, 
+
+The enterprise is sick! How could com- 
+munities, 
+
+Degrees in schools and brotherhoods in cities, 
+
+Peaceful commerce from dividable shores, 
+
+The primogenitive and due of birth, 
+
+Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels, 
+
+But by degree, stand in authentic place? 
+
+Take but degree away, untune that string, 
+
+And, hark what discord follows! each thing 
+meets 110 
+
+In mere oppugnancy: the bounded waters 
+
+Should lift their bosoms higher than the 
+shores 
+
+And make a sop of all this solid globe: 
+
+Strength should be lord of imbecility, 
+
+And the rude son should strike his father 
+dead: 
+
+Force should be right; or rather, right and 
+wrong, 
+
+Between whose endless jar justice resides, 
+
+Should lose their names, and so should justice 
+
+
+too. 
+Then every thing includes itself in power, 
+Power into will, will into appetite; 1 
+
+
+And appetite, an universal wolf, 
+
+So doubly seconded with will and power, 
+
+Must make perforce an universal prey, 
+
+And last eat up himself. Great Agamemnon, 
+
+This chaos, when degree is suffocate, 
+
+Follows the choking. 
+
+And this neglection of degree it is 
+
+That by a pace goes backward, with a pur- 
+pose 
+
+It hath to climb. The general's disdain’d 
+
+By him one step below, he by the next, 130 
+
+That next by him beneath; so every step, 
+
+Exampled by the first pace that is sick 
+
+Of his superior, grows to an envious fever 
+
+Of pale and bloodless emulation: 
+
+And ‘tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot, 
+
+Not her own sinews. To end a tale of 
+
+
+length, 
+Troy in our weakness stands, not in her 
+
+strength. 
+Nest. Most wisely? hath Ulysses here dis- 
+
+cover ‘d 
+
+
+The fever whereof all our power is sick. 
+Agam. The nature of the sickness found, 
+Ulysses, 140 
+
+
+776 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+43 
+
+
+ee ee SS SS eee 
+
+
+What is the remedy ? 
+Ulyss. The great Achilles, whom opinion 
+crowns 
+The sinew and the forehand of our host, 
+Having his ear full of his airy fame, 
+Grows dainty of his worth and in his tent 
+Lies mocking our designs: with him Patroclus 
+Upon a lazy bed the livelong day 
+Breaks scurril jests, 
+And with ridiculous and awkward action, 
+Which, slanderer, he imitation calls, 150 
+He pageants us. Sometime, great Agamem- 
+non, 
+Thy topless deputation he puts on, 
+And, like a strutting player, whose conceit 
+Lies in his hamstring, and doth think it rich 
+To hear the wooden dialogue and sound 
+"Twixt his stretch ’d footing and the scaffold- 
+age,— 
+Such to-be-pitied and o’er-wrested seeming 
+He acts thy greatness in; and when he speaks, 
+Tis like a chime a-mending; with terms un- 
+
+
+squared, 
+Which, from the tongue of roaring Typhon 
+dropp'd 160 
+
+
+Would ar hyperboles. At this fusty stuff 
+The large Achilles, on his press’d bed loll- 
+
+
+ing, 
+From his deep chest laughs out a loud ap- 
+plause; 
+Cries ‘Excellent! ‘tis Agamemnon just. 
+Now play me Nestor; hem, and stroke thy 
+beard, 
+As he being drest to some oration.’ 
+That’s done, as near as the extremest ends 
+Of parallels, as like as Vulcan and his wife: 
+Yet god Achilles: still cries “Excellent! 
+*Tis Nestor right. Now play him me, Pa- 
+troclus, 
+Arming to answer in a night alarm.’ 171 
+And then, forsooth, the faint defects of age 
+Must be the scene of mirth; to cough and spit, 
+And, with a palsy-fumbling on his gorget, 
+Shake in and out the rivet: and at this sport 
+Sir Valour dies; cries ‘O, enough, Patroclus; 
+Or give me ribs of steel! I shall split all 
+In pleasure of my spleen.’ And in this 
+fashion, 
+All our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes, 
+Severals and generals of grace exact, 
+Achievements, plots, orders, preventions, 
+Excitements to the field, or speech for truce, 
+Success or loss, what is or is not, serves 
+As stuff for these two to make paradoxes. 
+Nest. And in the ‘imitation of these 
+twain— 
+Who, as Ulysses says, opinion crowns 
+With an imperial voice—many are infect. 
+Ajax is grown self-will’d, and bears his head 
+
+
+In such a rein, in full as proud a place 
+As broad Achilles; keeps his tent like him; 190 
+Makes factious feasts; rails on our state of 
+war, 
+Bold as an oracle, and sets Thersites, 
+A slave whose gall coins slanders like a mint, 
+To match us in comparisons with dirt, 
+To weaken and discredit our exposure,’ 
+How rank soever rounded in with danger. 
+Ulyss. They tax our policy, and call it 
+cowardice, 
+Count wisdom as no member of the war, 
+Forestall prescience and esteem no act 
+But that of hand: the still and mental parts, 
+That do contrive how many hands shall 
+strike, ; 
+When fitness calls them on, and know by 
+measure 
+Of their observant toil the enemies’ weight,— 
+Why, this hath not a finger’s dignity: 
+They call this bed-work, mappery, closet-war; 
+So that the ram that batters down the wall, 
+For the great swing and rudeness of his poise, 
+They place before his hand that made the 
+engine, 
+Or those that with the fineness of their souls 
+By reason guide his execution. 
+Nest. Let this be granted, and Achilles’ 
+horse 
+Makes many Thetis’ sons. [A tucket. 
+Agam. What trumpet? look, Menelaus. 
+Men. From Troy. 
+
+
+Enter FENEAS. 
+
+
+Agam. What would you ‘fore our tent? 
+
+ZEne. Is this great Agamemnon’s tent, I 
+pray you? 
+
+Agam. Even this. 
+
+Ene. May one, that is a herald and a 
+prince, 
+
+Do a fair message to his kingly ears? 
+Agam. With surety:stronger than arr 
+
+
+arm. 
+"Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one 
+voice 
+Call Agamemnon head and general. 
+“Ene. Fair leave and large security. How 
+may 
+A stranger to those most imperial looks 
+Know them from eyes of other mortals? 
+Agam. How! 
+fEne. Ay; 
+I ask, that I might waken reverence, 
+And bid the cheek be ready with a blush 
+Modest as the morning when she coldly eyes 
+The youthful Phoebus: 
+Which is that god in office, guiding men? 
+Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon? 
+
+
+[Aer I, Sc. HL 
+
+
+u 
+
+
+_ Agam. This Trojan scorns us; or the men 
+
+i of Troy 
+
+_ Are ceremonious courtiers. . 
+Ene. Courtiers as free, as debonair, un- 
+
+
+arm'd, 
+
+As bending angels; that’s their fame in 
+peace: 
+
+But when they would seem soldiers, they 
+have galls, 
+
+
+- Good arms, strong joints, true swords; and, 
+Jove’s accord, 
+Nothing so full of heart. But peace, AEneas, 
+_ Peace, Trojan; lay thy finger on thy lips! 
+- The worthiness of praise distains his worth, 
+If that the praised himself bring the praise 
+forth: 
+_ But what the repining enemy commends, 
+_ That breath’ fame blows; that praise, sole 
+§ pure, transcends. 
+_~ Agam. Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself 
+‘ fEneas? 
+fEne. Ay, Greek, that is my name. 
+Agam. What's your affair, 1 pray you? 
+“Ene. Sir, pardon; ‘tis for Agamemnon’s 
+ears. ; 
+Agam. He hears nought privately that 
+comes from Troy. 
+“Ene. Nor I from Troy come not to 
+i whisper him: 250 
+I bring a trumpet to awake his ear, 
+To set his sense on the attentive bent, 
+And then to speak. 
+Agam. Speak frankly as the wind; 
+It is not Agamemnon’s sleeping hour: 
+That thou shalt know, Trojan, he is awake, 
+He tells thee so himself. 
+; Ene. Trumpet, blow loud, 
+' Send thy brass voice through all these lazy 
+yy tents; 
+And every Greek of mettle, let him know, 
+What Troy means fairly shall be spoke aloud. 
+[Trumpet sounds. 
+- We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy 260 
+_ A prince call’d Hector,—Priam is his father,— 
+_ Who in this dull and long-continued truce 
+Is rusty grown: he bade me take a trumpet, 
+And to this purpose speak. Kings, princes, 
+”g lords! 
+If there be one among the fair’st of Greece 
+- That holds his honour higher than his ease, 
+_ That seeks his praise more than he fears his 
+: peril, 
+That knows his valour, and knows not his fear, 
+That loves his mistress more than in confes- 
+sion, 
+~ With truant vows to her own lips he loves, 270 
+_ And dare avow her beauty and her worth 
+_ In other arms than hers,—to him this challenge. 
+Hector, in view of Trojans and of Greeks, 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+777 
+
+
+Shall make it good, or do his best to do it, 
+
+He hath a lady, wiser, fairer, truer, 
+
+Than ever Greek did compass in his arms, 
+
+And will to-morrow with his trumpet call 
+
+Midway between your tents and walls of Troy, 
+
+To rouse a Grecian that is true in love: 
+
+If any come, Hector shall honour him; 280 
+
+If none, he ‘Il say in Troy when he retires, 
+
+The Grecian dames are sunburnt and not worth 
+
+The splinter of a lance. Even so much. 
+Agam. This shall be told our lovers, Lord 
+
+/Eneas; 
+
+If none of them have soul in such a kind, 
+
+We left them all at home: but we are soldiers; 
+
+And may that soldier a mere recreant prove, 
+
+That means not, hath not, or is not in love! 
+
+If then one is, or hath, or means to be, 
+
+That one meets Hector; if none else, I am he. 
+Nest. Tell him of Nestor, one that was a 
+
+
+man 291 
+When Hector’s grandsire suck’d: he is old 
+now; 
+
+
+But if there be not in our Grecian host 
+One noble man that hath one spark of fire, 
+To answer for his love, tell him from me 
+I'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver 
+And in my vantbrace put this wither’d brawn, 
+And meeting him will tell him that my lady 
+Was fairer than his grandam and as chaste 
+As may-be in the world: his youth in flood, 
+I'll prove this truth with my three drops of 
+blood. 
+Ene. Now heavens forbid such scarcity of 
+youth! 
+Ulyss. Amen. 
+Agam. Fair Lord AEneas, let me touch 
+your hand; 
+To our pavilion shall I lead you, sir. 
+Achilles shall have word of this intent; 
+So shall each lord of Greece, from tent to tent: 
+Yourself shall feast with us before you go 
+And find the welcome of a noble foe. 
+[Exeunt all but Ulysses and Nestor. 
+Ulyss. Nestor! 310 
+Nest. What says Ulysses? 
+Ulyss. I have’ a young conception in my 
+brain; 
+Be you my time to bring it to some shape. 
+Nest. What is "t? 
+Ulyss. This ‘tis: 
+Blunt wedges rive hard knots: the seeded pride . 
+That hath to this maturity blown up 
+In rank Achilles must or now be cropp’d, 
+Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like evil, 
+To overbulk us all. 
+Nest. Well, and how? 320 
+Ulyss. This challenge that the gallant Hec- 
+tor sends, 
+However it is spread in general name, 
+
+
+778 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+[Ac7 II, Sc. I 
+
+
+Relates in purpose only to Achilles. 
+Nest. The purpose is perspicuous even as 
+substance, 
+Whose grossness little characters sum up: 
+And, in the publication, make no strain, 
+But that Achilles, were his brain as barren 
+As banks of Libya,—though, Apollo knows, 
+‘Tis dry enough,—will, with great speed of 
+judgement, 
+Ay, with celerity, find Hector’s purpose 
+Pointing on him. 
+Ulyss. And wake him to the answer, think 
+you > 
+Nest. Yes, ‘tis most meet: whom may you 
+else oppose, 
+That can from Hector-bring his honour off, 
+If not Achilles? Though’t be a sportful 
+combat, 
+Yet in the trial much opinion dwells; 
+For here the Trojans taste our dear’st repute 
+With their finest palate: and trust to me, 
+Ulysses, F 
+Our imputation shall be oddly poised 
+In this wild action; for the success, 
+Although particular, shall give a scantling 
+Of good or bad unto the general; 
+And in such indexes, although small pricks 
+To their subsequent volumes, there is seen 
+The baby figure of the giant mass 
+Of things to come at large. It is supposed 
+He that meets Hector issues from our choice; 
+And choice, being mutual act of all our souls, 
+Makes merit her election, and doth boil, 
+As ‘twere from forth us all, a man distill’d 350 
+Out of our virtues; who miscarrying, 
+What heart receives from hence the conquer- 
+ing part, 
+To steel a strong opinion to themselves ? 
+Which entertain'd, limbs are his instruments, 
+In no less working than are swords and bows 
+Directive by the limbs. 
+__Ulyss. Give pardon to my speech: 
+Therefore. ‘tis meet Achilles meet not Hector. 
+Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares, 
+And think, perchance, they ‘Il sell; if not, 360 
+The lustre of the better yet to show, 
+Shall show the better. Do not consent 
+That ever Hector and Achilles meet; 
+For both our honour and our shame in this 
+Are dogg'd with two strange followers. 
+Nest. I see them not with my old eyes: 
+what are they ? 
+Ulyss. What glory our Achilles shares from 
+Hector, 
+Were he not proud, we all should share with 
+him: 
+But he already. is too insolent; 
+And we were better parch in Afric sun 370 
+Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes, 
+
+
+330 
+
+
+340 
+
+
+Should he ‘scape Hector fair: if he were 
+foil ’d, 
+Why: then, we did our main opinion crush 
+In taint of our best man. No, make a 
+lottery ; 
+And by device, let blockish Ajax draw 
+The sort to fight with Hector: among our- 
+selves 
+Give him allowance for the better man; 
+For that will physic the great Myrmidon 
+Who broils in loud applause, and make him 
+fall 
+His crest that prouder than blue Iris bends. 
+If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off, 
+We'll dress him up in voices: if he fail, 
+Yet go we under our opinion still 
+That we have better men. But, hit or iiss, 
+Our project's life this shape of sense assumes: 
+Ajax employ ‘d plucks down Achilles’ plumes. 
+Nest. Ulysses, 
+Now I begin to relish thy advice; 
+And I will give a taste of it forthwith 
+To Agamemnon: go we to him straight. 390 
+Two curs shall tame each other: pride alone 
+Must tarre the mastiffs on, as ‘twere their 
+bone. [Exeunt. 
+ACT II. 
+Scene I. A part of ihe Grecian camp. 
+Enter AjAx and THERSITES, 
+Ajax. Thersites! 
+Ther. Agamemnon, how if he had boils? 
+full, all over,*generally > 
+Ajax. Thersites! 
+Ther. And those boils did run? say so: 
+
+
+did not the general run then? were not that a 
+botchy core? 
+
+
+Ajax. Dog! 
+Ther. Then would come some matter from 
+him; I see none now. 10 
+
+
+Ajax. Thou bitch-wolf’s son, canst thou 
+not hear? [Beating him] Feel, then. 
+
+Ther. The plague of Greece upon thee, 
+thou mongrel beef-witted lord! 
+
+Ajax. Speak then, thou vinewedst leaven, 
+speak: I will beat thee into handsomeness. 
+
+Ther. I shall sooner rail thee into wit and 
+holiness: but. I think, thy horse will sooner 
+con an oration than thou learn a prayer with- 
+out book. Thou canst strike, canst thou? a 
+red murrain o’ thy jade’s tricks! 21 
+
+Ajax. Toadstool, learn me the proclama- 
+ton. 
+
+Ther. Dost thou think I have no sense, 
+thou strikest me thus? 
+
+Ajax. The proclamation! 
+
+Ther. Thou art proclaimed a fool, I think. 
+
+Ajax. Do not, porpentine, do not: my 
+fingers itch. 
+
+
+hs 
+
+
+- Act II, Se. IJ 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+779 
+
+
+EEE Ena 
+
+
+Ther. 1 would thou didst itch from head to 
+foot and I had the scratching of thee; I would 
+make thee the loathsomest scab in Greece. 
+When thou art forth in the incursions, thou 
+strikest as slow as another. 
+
+Ajax. 1 say, the proclamation! 
+
+Ther. Thou grumblest and railest every 
+hour on Achilles, and thou art as full of envy 
+
+
+at his greatness as Cerberus is at Proserpina’s |. 
+
+
+beauty, ay, that thou barkest at him. 
+
+
+Ajax. Mistress Thersites! 
+
+Ther. Thou shouldst strike him. 40 
+Ajax. Cobloaf! 
+
+Ther. He would pun thee into shivers with 
+
+
+his fist, as a sailor breaks a biscuit. 
+
+
+Ajax. [Beating him] You whoreson cur! 
+Ther. Do, do. 
+Ajax. Thou stool for a witch! 
+
+
+~. Ther. Ay, do, do; thou sodden-witted lord! 
+
+
+thou hast no more brain than | have in mine 
+elbows; an assinego may tutor thee: thou 
+scurvy-valiant ass! thou art here but to thrash 
+
+
+Trojans; and thou art bought and sold among 
+
+
+TS ome Mcp et 
+
+
+Ye a ee 
+
+
+poe 
+
+
+a i Sas | 
+
+
+-do-you thus? 
+
+
+those of any wit, like a barbarian slave. If 
+thou use to beat me, I will begin at thy heel, 
+and tell what thou art by inches, thou thing of 
+no bowels, thou! 
+
+Ajax. You dog! 
+
+Ther. You scurvy lord! 
+
+Ajax. [Beating him] You cur! 
+
+Ther. Mars his idiot! do, rudeness; a 
+
+
+camel; do. do. 
+~ Enter AcHILLES and PATROCLUS. 
+
+
+Achil. Why, how now, Ajax! wherefore 
+How now, Thersites! what's 
+the matter, man? 
+
+Ther. You see him’ there, do you? 
+
+Achil. Ay; what's the matter? 
+
+Ther. Nay, look upon him. 
+
+Achil. So I do: what's the matter? 
+
+Ther. Nay, but regard him well. 
+
+Achil. ‘Well!’ why, I do so. 
+
+Ther. But yet you look not well upon him; 
+for, whosoever you take him to be, he is Ajax. 
+
+Achil. 1 know that, fool. 
+
+Ther. Ay, but that fool knows not himself. 
+
+Ajax. Therefore I beat thee. 
+- Ther. Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit 
+he utters! his evasions have ears thus long. 
+I have bobbed his brain more than he has beat 
+my bones: I will buy nine sparrows for a 
+penny, and his pia mater is not worth the 
+ninth part of a sparrow. This lord, Achilles, 
+Ajax, who wears his wit in his belly and his 
+guts in his head, I'll tell you what I say of 
+him. 81 
+
+
+Achil. What? 
+
+
+Ther, \ say, this Ajax— f 
+[Ajax offers to beat him. 
+
+Achil. Nay, good Ajax. 
+
+Ther. Has not.so much wit— 
+
+Achil. Nay, I must hold you. 
+
+Ther. As will stop the eye of Helen’s 
+needle, for whom he comes to fight. 
+
+Achil. Peace, fool! 89 
+
+Ther. I would have peace and quietness, 
+but the fool will not: he there: that he: look 
+you there. 
+
+Ajax. O thou damned cur! I shall— 
+
+Achil. Will you set your wit to a fool's? 
+
+Ther. No, I warrant you; for a fool’s will 
+shame it. 
+
+Pair. Good words, Thersites. 
+
+Achil. What's the quarrel? 
+
+Ajax. 1 bade the vile owl go learn me the 
+tenour of the proclamation, and he rails upon 
+me. 
+
+Ther. I serve thee aot. 
+
+Ajax. Well, go to, go to. 
+
+Ther. I serve here voluntary. 
+
+Achil. Your last service was sufferance, 
+‘twas not voluntary: no man is beaten volun- 
+tary: Ajax was here voluntary, and you as 
+under an impress. 
+
+Ther. E’en so; a great deal of your wit, 
+too, lies in your sinews, or else there be liars. 
+Hector shall have a great catch, if he knock 
+out either of your brains: a’ were as good 
+
+
+9 | crack a fusty nut with no kernel. 
+
+
+Achil. What, with me too, Thersites? 
+
+Ther. There’s Ulysses and old Nestor, 
+whose wit was mouldy ere your grandsires had 
+nails on their toes, yoke you like draught-oxen 
+and make you plough up the wars. 
+
+Achil. What, what? 
+
+Ther. Yes, good sooth: to, Achilles! to, 
+Ajax! to! 120 
+
+Ajax. I shall cut out your tongue. 
+
+Ther. ‘Tis no matter; I shall speak as much 
+as t’ ou afterwards. 
+
+Pair. No more words, Thersites; peace! 
+
+Ther. I will hold my peace when Achilles’ 
+brach bids me, shall I? 
+
+Achil. There’s for you, Patroclus. 
+
+Ther. I will see you hanged, like clotpoles, 
+ere I come any more to your tents: I will keep 
+where there is wit stirring and leave the fac- 
+tion of fools. [Exit. 
+
+Patr. A good riddance. 
+
+Achil. Marry, this, sir, is proclaim'd through 
+
+all our host: 
+That Hector, by the fifth hour of the sun, 
+Will with a trumpet ‘twixt our tents and Troy 
+To-morrow morning call some knight to arms 
+That hath a stomach; and such a one that 
+dare 
+
+
+780 
+
+
+Maintain—I know not what: ‘tis trash. Fare- 
+well. 
+Ajax. Farewell. Who shall answer him? 
+Achil. 1 know not: ‘tis put to lottery; 
+otherwise 140 
+He knew his man. 
+Ajax. O, meaning you. 
+more of it, 
+
+
+I will go learn 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. Troy. A room in Priam's palace. 
+
+
+Enter Priam, Hector, TRoitus, Paris, and 
+HELENUus. 
+
+
+Pri. After so many hours, lives, speeches 
+
+spent, 
+
+Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks: 
+
+‘Deliver Helen, and all damage else— 
+
+As honour, loss of time, travail, expense, 
+
+Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is 
+consumed 
+
+In hot digestion of this cormorant war— 
+
+Shall be struck off.’ Hector, what say you 
+tot? 
+
+Hect. Though no man lesser fears the 
+
+Greeks than I 
+As far as toucheth my particular, 
+Yet, dread Priam, 
+There is no lady of more softer bowels, 
+More spongy to suck in the sense of fear, 
+More ready to cry out “Who knows what 
+follows >’ 
+Than Hector is: the wound of peace is surety, 
+Surety secure; but modest doubt is call’d 
+The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches 
+To the bottom of the worst. Let Helen go: 
+Since the first sword was drawn about this 
+question, 
+Every tithe soul, 
+dismes, 
+Hath been as dear as Helen; I mean, of ours: 
+If we have lost so many tenths of ours, 21 
+To guard a thing not ours nor worth to us, 
+Had it our name, the value of one ten, 
+What merit ’s in that reason which denies 
+The yielding of her up? 
+
+Tro. Fie, fie, my brother! 
+Weigh you the worth and honour of a king 
+So great as our dread father in a scale 
+Of common ounces? will you with counters 
+
+sum 
+The past proportion of his infinite ? 
+And buckle in a waist most fathomless 
+With spans and inches so diminutive 
+As fears and reasons? fie, for godly shame! 
+Hel. No marvel, though you bite so sharp 
+at reasons, 
+You are so empty of them. Should not our 
+father 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+*mongst many thousand 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+Bear the great sway of his affairs with reasons, | 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+[Act II, Sc. II 
+
+
+Because your speech hath none that tells him — 
+so?' 
+Tro. You are for dreams and slumbers, 
+brother priest; 
+You fur your gloves with reason. Here are 
+your reasons: 
+You know an enemy intends you harm; 
+You know a sword employ'd is perilous, 
+And reason flies the object of all harm: 
+Who marvels then, when Helenus beholds 
+A Grecian and his sword, if he do set 
+The very wings of reason to his heels 
+And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove, 
+Or like a star disorb’'d? Nay, if we talk of 
+reason, : 
+Let’s shut our gates and sleep: manhood and 
+honour 
+Should have Kare-hearts, would they but fat 
+their thoughts 2 
+With this cramm’d reason: reason and respect 
+Make livers pale and lustihood deject. 50 
+Hect. Brother, she is not worth what she 
+doth cost 
+The holding. 
+Tro. What is aught, but as ‘tis valued? 
+ae; But value dwells not in particular 
+will; 
+It holds his estimate and dignity 
+As well wherein ’tis precious of itself 
+As in the prizer: tis mad idolatry 
+To make the service greater than the god; 
+And the wili dotes that is attributive 
+To what infe¢tiously itself affects, 
+Without some image of the affected merit. 60 
+Tro. I take to-day a wife, and my election 
+Is led on in the conduct of my will; 
+My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears, 
+Two traded pilots ’twixt the dangerous shores 
+Of will and judgement: how may I avoid, 
+Although my will distaste what it elected, 
+The wife I chose? there can be no evasion 2 
+To blench from this and to stand firm by  , 
+honour: i 
+We turn not back the silks upon the merchant, , 
+When we have soil’d them, nor the bee: 3 
+q 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+viands 
+
+We do not throw in unrespective sieve, 
+
+Because we now are full. It was thought meet 
+
+Paris should do some vengeance on the 
+Greeks ‘ 
+
+Your breath of full consent bellied his sails; 
+
+The seas and winds, old wranglers, took a 
+truce 
+
+And did him service: he touch'd the ports 
+desired, 
+
+And for an old aunt whom the Greeks held 
+captive, 
+
+He brought a Grecian queen, whose vouth and 
+freshness 
+
+
+Act Il, Se. 1} 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+781 
+
+
+ea I ne ee Ea 
+
+
+a 
+Hf Wrinkles Apollo's, and makes stale the morn- 
+i oimgs 
+Why keep we her? the Grecians keep our 
+aunt: 
+
+Is she worth keeping? why, she is a pearl, 81 
+- Whose price hath launch’d above a thousand 
+{ ships, 
+
+And turn’d crown'd kings to merchants. 
+
+If you'll avouch "twas wisdom Paris went— 
+_ As you must needs, for you all cried ‘Go, 
+
+
+go, — 
+If you'll confess he brought home noble 
+prize— 
+As you must needs, for you all clapp’d your 
+a hands, 
+_ And cried ‘Inestimable!'—why do you now 
+_ The issue of your proper wisdoms rate, mt 
+
+
+And do a deed that fortune never did, 
+O, theft most 
+
+
+“Beggar the estimation which you prized 
+- Richer than sea and land? 
+
+4 base, 
+
+_ That we have stol’n what we do fear to keep! 
+But, thieves, unworthy of a thing so stol’n, 
+; That in their country did them that disgrace, 
+
+
+We fear to warrant in our native place! 
+Cas, [Within] Cry, Trojans, cry! 
+Pri. What noise? what shriek is this? 
+Tro. “Tis our mad sister, I do know her 
+voice. 
+Cas. [Within] Cry, Trojans! 
+Hect. It is Cassandra. 100 
+Enter Cassanbra, raving. 
+
+
+Cas. Cry, Trojans, cry! lend me ten thou- 
+sand eyes, 
+_ And I will fill them with prophetic tears. 
+Hect. Peace, sister, peace! 
+Cas. Virgins and boys, mid-age and wrink- 
+led eld, 
+Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry, 
+_ Add to my clamours! let us pay betimes 
+__A moiety of that mass of moan to come. 
+Cry, Trojans, cry! practise your eyes with 
+; tears! i 
+Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilion stand; 
+Our firebrand brother, Paris, burns all. 
+_ Cry, Trojans, cry! a Helen and a woe: 
+‘Cry, cry! Troy burns, or else let Helen 
+
+
+110 
+
+
+go. 
+[Exit. 
+
+
+: high strains 
+
+«Of divination in our sister work 
+
+“Some touches of remorse? or is your blood 
+‘So madly hot that no discourse of reason, 
+Nor fear of bad success in a bad cause, 
+Can qualify the same? 
+
+4 Tro. Why, brother Hector, 
+"We may not think the justness of each act 
+
+
+Like one besotted on your 
+You have the honey still, but these the gall; 
+
+
+. Hect: Now, youthful Troilus, do not these 
+
+
+Such and no other than event doth form it, 120 
+Nor once deject the courage of our minds, 
+Because Cassandra’s mad: her brain-sick rap- 
+
+
+tures 
+
+
+Cannot distaste the goodness of a quarrel 
+
+Which hath our several honours all engaged 
+To make it gracious. 
+I am no more touch’d than all Priam’s sons: 
+
+
+| And Jove forbid there should be done amongst 
+
+
+For my private part, 
+
+
+us 
+
+
+Such things as might offend the weakest spleen 
+To fight for and maintain! 
+
+
+Par. Else might the world convince of 
+levity 13) 
+
+
+As well my undertakings as your counsels: 
+But I attest the gods, your full consent 
+Gave wings to my propension and cut off 
+All fears attending on so dire a project. 
+For what, alas, can these my single arms? 
+What propugnation is in one man’s valour, 
+To stand the push and enmity of those 
+This quarrel would excite > 
+Were I alone to pass the difficulties 
+
+And had as ample power as I have will, 140 
+Paris should ne'er retract what he hath done, 
+Nor faint in the pursuit, 
+
+
+Yet, I protest, 
+
+
+Pri Paris, you speak 
+sweet delights: 
+
+
+So to be valiant is no praise at all. 
+
+Par. Sir, I propose not merely to myself 
+The pleasures such a beauty brings with it; 
+But I would have the soil of her fair rape 
+Wiped off, in honourable keeping her. 
+
+What treason were it to the ransack’d queen. 
+Disgrace to your great worths and shame to 
+
+
+me, 15] 
+Now to deliver her possession up 
+On terms of base compulsion! Can it be 
+That so degenerate a strain as this 
+Should once set footing in your generous 
+bosoms > 
+There's not the meanest spirit on our party 
+Without a heart to dare or sword to draw 
+When Helen is defended, nor none sc noble 
+Whose life were ill bestow’d or death unfamed 
+Where Helen is the subject: then, I say, 160 
+Well may we fight for her whom, we know 
+well, 
+The world’s large spaces cannot parallel. 
+Hect. Paris and Troilus, you have both 
+said well, 
+And on the cause and question now m hand 
+Have glozed, but superficially; not much 
+Unlike young men, whom Aristotle thought 
+Unfit to hear moral philosophy: 
+The reasons you allege do more ~onduce 
+To the hot passion of distemper’d blood 
+Than to make up a free determination 
+
+
+170 
+
+
+782 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+{Act fl, Se, I 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+‘Twixt right and wrong, for pleasure and re- 
+venge 
+Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice 
+Of any true decision. Nature craves 
+All dues be render’d to their owners: now, 
+What nearer debt in all humanity 
+Than wife is to the husband? If this law 
+Of nature be corrupted through affection, 
+And that great minds, of partial indulgence 
+To their benumbed wills, resist the same, 
+There is a law in each well-order'd nation 180 
+To curb those raging appetites that are 
+Most disobedient and refractory. 
+If Helen then be wife to Sparta’s king, 
+As it is known she is, these moral laws 
+Of nature and of nations speak aloud 
+To have her back return’d: thus to persist 
+In doing wrong extenuates not wrong, 
+But makes it much more heavy. Hector’s 
+opinion 
+Is this in way of truth; set ze'ertheless, 
+My spritely brethren, I propend to you 
+In resolution to keep Helen still, 
+For ‘tis a cause that hath nv mean dependence 
+Upon our joint and several dignities. 
+Tro. Why, there you touch’d the life of 
+our design: 
+Were it not glory that we more affected 
+Than the performance of our heaving spleens, 
+I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood 
+Spent more in her defence. But, worthy Hector, 
+She is a theme of honour and renown, 
+A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds, 200 
+Whose present courage may beat down our 
+foes, 
+And fame in time to come canonize us; 
+For, I presume, brave Hector would not lose 
+So rich advantage of a promised glory 
+As smiles upon the forehead of this action 
+For the wide world’s revenue. 
+Hect. I am yours, 
+You valiant offspring of great Priamus. 
+I have a roisting challenge ent amongst 
+The dull and factious nobles of the Greeks 
+Will strike amazement to their drowsy spirits: 
+I was advertised their great general slept, 211 
+Whilst emulation in the army crept: 
+This, I presume, will wake him. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. The Grecian camp. Before 
+Achilles’ tent. 
+
+
+Enter THERSITES, solus. 
+
+
+Ther. How now, Thersites! what, lost in 
+the labyrinth of the fury! Shall the elephant 
+Ajax carry it thus? he beats me, and I rail 
+at him: O, worthy satisfaction! would it were 
+otherwise; that I could beat him, whilst he 
+railed at me. ‘Sfoot, I'll learn to conjure 
+and raise devils, but I "ll see some issue of my 
+
+
+190 
+
+
+spiteful execrations. Then there's Achilles, < 
+rare engineer! If Troy be not taken till these 
+two undermine it, the walls will stand till they 
+fall of themselves, O thou great thunder-darter 
+of Olympus, forget that thou art Jove, the king 
+of gods, and, Mercury, lose all the serpentine 
+craft of thy caduceus, if ye take not that little 
+little less than little wit from them that they 
+have! which short-armed ignorance itself 
+knows is so abundant scarce, it will not in cir- 
+cumvention deliver a fly from a spider, with- 
+out drawing their massy irons and cutting the 
+web. After this, the vengeance on the whole 
+camp! or rather, the bone-ache! for that, me- 
+thinks, is the curse dependant on those that war 
+for a placket. { have said my prayers and 
+devil Envy say Amen. 
+Achilles! 
+
+
+Enter PaTROCLUS. 
+Patr. Who's there? Thersites! Good Ther- 
+
+
+sites, come in and rail. 
+
+Ther. If I could have remembered a gilt 
+counterfeit, thou wouldst not have slipped out 
+of my contemplation: but it is no matter; 
+thyself upon thyself! The common curse of 
+mankind, folly and ignorance, be thine in great 
+revenue! heaven bless thee from a tutor, and 
+discipline come not near thee! Let thy blood 
+be thy direction iill thy death! then if she that 
+lays thee out says thou art a fair corse, I ‘Il 
+
+
+be sworn and sworn upon ‘t she never shrouded 
+P' : 
+
+
+any but lazars. Amen. Where's Achilles? 
+Patr. What, art thou devout? wast thou in 
+prayer? 
+Ther. Ay: the heavens hear me! 40 
+Enter ACHILLES. 
+Achil. Who’s there? 
+Patr. Thersites, my lord. 
+
+
+Achil. Where, where? Art thou come? 
+
+
+why, my cheese, my digestion, why hast thou | 
+
+
+not served thyself in to my table so many 
+meals? Come, what’s Agamemnon ? 
+
+
+Ther. Thy commander, Achilles. Then tell 
+
+
+me, Patroclus, what ’s Achilles? 
+Pair. Thy lord, Thersites: then tell me, I 
+pray thee, what's thyself? 50° 
+
+
+Ther. Thy knower, Patroclus; then tell - 
+
+
+me, Patroclus, what art thou >? 
+
+Pair. Thou mayst tell that knowest. 
+
+Achil. O, tell, tell. 
+
+Ther. I'll decline the whole question. 
+Agamemnon commands Achilles; Achilles is 
+my lord; I am Patroclus’ knower, and Patro- 
+clus is a fool. 
+
+Patr. You rascal! 
+
+Ther. Peace, fool! I have not done. 
+
+Achil. He is a privileged man. 
+Thersites. 
+
+
+60° 
+
+
+What ho! my Lord’ 
+
+
+Proceed,, — 
+
+
+vig fore Ta 
+
+
+Act II, Se. 11] 
+
+
+Ther. Agamemnon is a fool; Achilles is a 
+fool; Thersites is a fool, and, as aforesaid, 
+Patroclus is a fool. 
+
+Achil. Derive this; come. 
+
+Ther. Agamemnon is a fool to offer to 
+command Achilles; Achilles is a fool to be 
+commanded of Agamemnon; Thersites is a 
+fool to serve such a fool, and Patroclus is a 
+fool positive. 
+
+Patr. Why am I a fool? 
+
+Ther. Make that demand of the prover. It 
+suffices me thou art. Jook you, who comes 
+here ? 
+
+Achil. Patroclus, I*ll speak with nobody. 
+Come in with me, Thersites. [Exit. 
+
+Ther. Here such patchery, such juggling 
+and such knavery! all the argument is cuckold 
+and a whore; a good quarrel to draw emulous 
+factions and bleed to death upon. Now, the 
+\ dry serpigo on the subject! and war and 
+| lechery confound all! [Exit. 
+
+
+Enter AGAMEMNON, ULysseEs, NEsTor, 
+DiomepEs, and Ajax. 
+
+
+Agam. Where is Achilles? 
+
+Pair. Within his tent; but ill disposed, my 
+lord. ) 
+
+|. Agam. Let it be known to him that we are 
+
+| here. 
+
+| He shent our messengers; and we lay by 
+
+Our appertainments, visiting of him: 
+
+Let him be told so; lest perchance he think 
+
+_ We dare not move the question of our place, 
+
+Ory know not what we are. 
+
+Patr. I shall say so to him. [Exit. 
+__Ulyss. We saw him at the opening of his 
+|e tent: 91 
+| He js not sick. 
+
+Ajax. Yes, lion-sck, sick of proud heart: 
+~ you may call it melancholy, if you will favour 
+_ the man; but, by my head, ‘tis pride: but why, 
+why? let him show us the cause. A word, my 
+lord. [Takes Agamemnon aside. 
+Nest. What moves Ajax thus to bay at 
+‘3 bim? 
+Ulyss. Achilles hath inveigled his fool, 
+
+
+= 
+
+
+? from him. 100 
+Nest. Who, Thersites >? 
+— Ulyss. He. 
+
+
+Nest. Then will Ajax lack matter, if he 
+have lost his argument. 
+
+Ulyss. No, you see, he is his argument that 
+has his argument, Achilles. 
+
+Nest. All the better; their fraction is more 
+_ our wish than their faction: but it was a strong 
+
+composure a fool could disunite. 
+| _Ulyss. The amity that wisdom knits not, 
+ply may easily untie. Here comes Patro- 
+clus, 
+
+
+ic? oe 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+783 
+
+
+Re-enter PATROCLUS. _ 
+
+Nest. No Achilles with him. 
+
+Ulyss. The elephant hath joints, but none 
+for courtesy: his legs are legs for necessity, 
+not for flexure. 
+
+Pair. Achilles bids me say, he is much 
+
+sorry, 
+If any thing more than your sport and pleas- 
+ure 
+Did move your greatness and this noble state 
+To call upon him; he hopes it is no other 119 
+But for your health and your digestion sake, 
+An after-dinner’s breath. 
+
+Agam. Hear you, Patroclus: 
+
+We are too well acquainted with these an- 
+swers: 
+
+But his evasion, wing’d thus swift with scorn, 
+
+Cannot outfly our apprehensions. 
+
+Much attribute he hath, and much the reason 
+
+Why we ascribe it to him; yet all his virtues, 
+
+Not virtuously on his own part beheld, 
+
+Do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss, 
+
+Yea, like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish, 
+
+Axe like to rot untasted. Go and tell him, 130 
+
+We come to speak with him; and you shall 
+not sin, 
+
+If you do say we think him over-proud 
+
+And under-honest, in self-assumption greater 
+
+Than in the note of judgement; and worthier 
+than himself 
+
+Here tend the savage strangeness he puts on, 
+
+Disguise the holy strength of their command, 
+
+And underwrite in an observing kind 
+
+His humorous predominance; yea, watch 
+
+His pettish lunes, his ebbs, his flows, as if 139 
+
+The passage and whole carriage of this action 
+
+Rode on his tide. Go tell him this, and add, 
+
+That if he overhold his price so much, 
+
+We ‘ll none of him; but let him, like an engine 
+
+Not portable, lie under this report: 
+
+‘Bring action hither, this cannot go to war: 
+
+A stirring dwarf we do allowance give 
+
+Before a sleeping giant.’ ‘Tell him so. 
+
+Patr. 1 shall; and bring his answer pres- 
+
+ently. [Exit. 
+
+Agam. In second voice we'll not be satis- 
+
+fied; 
+We come to speak with him. Ulysses, enter 
+you. [Exit Ulysses. 
+
+Ajax. What is he more than another? 151 
+
+Agam. No more than what he thinks he is. 
+
+Ajax. Is he so much? Do you not think 
+he thinks himself a better man than | am? 
+
+Agam. No question. 
+
+Ajax. Wilt you subscribe his thought, and 
+say he is? 
+
+Agam. No, noble Ajax; you are as strong, 
+as valiant, as wise, no less noble, much more 
+gentic, and altogether more tractable. 16@ 
+
+
+784 -TROILUS AND CRESSIDA [Acr II, Sc. rot 
+: i 
+
+
+Ajax. Why should a man be proud? How | This lord go to him! Jupiter forbid, 
+
+
+dotk pride grow? 1 know not what pride is. 
+
+Agam. Your mind is the clearer, Ajax, and 
+your virtues the fairer. He that is proud eats 
+up himself: pride is his own glass, his own 
+trumpet, his own chronicle; and whatever 
+praises itself but in the deed, devours the deed 
+in the praise. 
+
+Ajax. | do hate a proud man, as I hate the 
+
+
+engendering of toads. 170 
+Nest. Yet he loves himself: is’t not 
+strange ? [Aside. 
+
+
+Re-enter ULyssEs. 
+Ulyss. Achilles will not to the field to- 
+
+
+morrow. 
+
+Agam. What's his excuse > 
+
+Ulyss. He doth rely on none, 
+But carries on the stream of his dispose 
+Without observance or respect of any, 
+
+In will peculiar and in self-admission. 
+Agam. Why will he not upon our fair re- 
+quest 
+Untent his person and share the air with us? 
+Ulyss. Things small as nothing, for re- 
+quest’s sake only, 
+He makes important: possess’d he is with 
+greatness, 180 
+And speaks not to himself but with a pride 
+That quarrels at self-breath: imagined worth 
+Holds in his blood such swoln and hot dis- 
+course 
+That ‘twixt his mental and his active parts 
+Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages 
+And batters down himself: what should I say > 
+He Hi plaguy proud that the death-tokens 
+of it ; 
+Cry ‘No recovery.’ 
+
+Agam. Let Ajax go to him. 
+Dear lord, go you and greet him in his tent: 
+’Tis said he holds you well, and will be led 
+At your request a little from himself. 
+
+Ulyss. O Agamemnon, let it not be so! 
+We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes 
+ae re go from Achilles: shall the proud 
+
+or 
+That bastes his arrogance with his own seam 
+And never suffers matter of the world 
+Enter his thoughts, save such as do revolve 
+And ruminate himself, shall he be worshipp'd 
+Of that we hold an idol more than he? 199 
+No, this thrice worthy and right valiant lord 
+Must not so stale his palm, nobly acquired; 
+Nor, by my will, assubjugate his merit, 
+As amply titled as Achilles is, 
+By going to Achilles: 
+That were to enlard his fat already pride 
+And add more coals to Cancer when he burns 
+With entertaining great Hyperion. 
+
+
+or 
+
+
+2S park mel 
+aL nie b> 
+‘as BATH 
+
+
+And say in thunder ‘Achilles go to him.’ 
+
+Nest. [Aside to Dio.] O, this is well; he 
+
+rubs the vein of him. 210 
+
+Dio. [Aside to Nest.] And how his silence 
+
+drinks up this applause! 
+
+Ajax. If I go to him; with my armed fist 
+I'll pash him o'er the face. 
+
+Agam. O, no, you shall not go. 
+
+Ajax. Ana’ be proud with me, I'll pheeze 
+
+his pride: 
+Let me go to kim. 
+
+Ulyss. Not for the worth that hangs upon 
+
+our quarrel. 
+
+Ajax. A paltry, insolent fellow! f 
+
+Nest. How he describes himself! } 
+
+Ajax. Can he not be sociable? 220° 9 
+
+Ulyss. The raven chides blackness. 
+
+Ajax. I'll let his humours blood. 
+
+Agam. He will be the physician that 
+should be the patient. 
+
+Ajax. An all men were o’ my mind,— 
+
+Ulyss. Wit would be out of fashion. { 
+
+Ajax. A’ should not bear it so, a’ should ~ 
+eat swords first: shall pride carry it? ¥ 
+
+Nest. An ‘twould, you'ld carry half. i) 
+
+Ulyss. A’ would have ten shares. 230 
+
+Ajax. 1 will knead him; I'll make him _ 
+supple. 
+
+Nest. He’s not yet through warm: force 
+him with praises: pour in, pour in; his ambi- _ 
+tion is dry. 
+
+Ulyss. [to Agam.] My lord, you feed too 
+much on this dislike. y 
+
+Nest. Our noble general, do not do so. 
+
+Dio. You must prepare to fight without | 
+Achilles. 
+
+Ulyss. Why, ‘tis this naming of him does a 
+
+him harm. ‘ 
+Here is a man—but "tis before his face; 240 — 
+I will be silent. 
+
+Nest. Wherefore sliould you so? 
+He is not emulous, as Achilles is. ‘ 
+
+Ulyss. Know the whole world, he is as 
+
+
+valiant. 
+Ajax. A whoreson dog, that shall palter — 
+thus with us! 4 
+Would he were a Trojan! | 
+
+
+Nest. What a vice were it in Ajax now,— © 
+Ulyss. If he were proud,— 
+Dio. Or covetous of praise,— 
+Ulyss. Ay, or surly borne,— 
+Dio. Or strange, or self-affected! 250 
+Ulyss. Thank the heavens, lord, thou art 
+of sweet composure; ( 
+Praise him that got thee, she that gave thee 
+suck: : 
+Famed be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature 
+Thrice famed, beyond all erudition: i 
+
+
+Act Ill,/Se. 1) TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 785 
+Bren d , 
+But he that disciplined thy arms to fight, Pan, Know you the musicians? 
+Let Mars divide eternity in twain, Serv. Wholly, sir. 
+And give him half: and, for thy vigour, Pan. Who play they to? 
+- Bull-bearing Milo his addition yield Serv. To the hearers, sir. 
+To sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wis-}| Pan. At whose pleasure, friend? 
+dom, Serv. At mine, sir, and theirs that love 
+Which, like a bourn, a pale, a shore, confines | music. 
+Thy spacious and dilated parts: here's Nes- Pan, Command, I mean, friend. 
+tor; Serv. Who shall I command, sir? 
+Instructed by the antiquary times, _ Pan, Friend, we understand not one an- 
+He must, he is, he cannot but be wise: other: I am too courtly and thou art too 
+But pardon, father Nestor, were your days | cunning. At whose request do these men 
+As green as Ajax’ and your brain so tem- | play? 
+er'd, Serv. That’s to’t indeed, sir: marry, sir, 
+You should not have the eminence of him, at the request of Paris my lord, who’s there 
+_ But be as Ajax. in person; with him, the mortal Venus, the 
+
+
+Ajax. Shall I call you father? heart-blood of beauty, love's invisible soul,— 
+_ Nest. Ay, my good son. Pan. Who, my, cousin Cressida? 
+Dio. Be ruled by him, Lord Ajax.| Serv. No, sir, Helen: could you not find 
+
+
+out that by her attributes? 
+
+Pan. It should seem, fellow, that thou 
+hast not seen the Lady Cressida. I come to 
+speak with Paris from the Prince Troilus: I 
+will make a complimental assault upon him, 
+for my business seethes. 
+
+Serv. Sodden business! there’s a stewed 
+
+
+\ Ulyss. There is no tarrying here; the hart 
+fs Achilles 
+
+_ Keeps thicket. Please it our great general 270 
+; To call together all his state of war; 
+
+* Fresh kings are come to Troy: to-morrow 
+
+~ We must with all our main of power stand 
+
+
+fast: 
+
+| And here’s a lord,—come knights from east | phrase indeed! 
+to west, ; 
+_ And cull their flower, Ajax shall cope the Enter Paris and HELEN, attended. 
+rs best. Pan. Fair be to you, my lord, and to all 
+
+Agam. Go we to council. Let Achilles | this fair company! fair desires, in all fair 
+sleep: measure, fairly guide them! especially to you, 
+Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks | fair queen! fair thoughts be your fair pillow! 
+fi draw deep. [Exeunt.| Helen, Dear lord, you are full of fair 
+
+
+words. 
+
+Pan. You speak your fair pleasure, sweet 
+queen. Fair prince, here is good broken 
+music. 
+
+Par. You have broke it, cousin: and, by 
+my life, you shall make it whole again; you 
+shall piece it out with a piece of your per- 
+formance. Nell, he is full of harmony. 
+
+Pan. Truly, lady, no. 
+
+Helen. O, sir,— 
+
+Pan. Rude, in socth; in good sooth, very 
+.| rude. 
+
+Par. Well said, my lord! well, you say so 
+in fits. 
+
+Pan. 1 have business to my lord, dear 
+queen. My lord, will you vouchsafe me a 
+word? 
+
+Helen. Nay, this shall not hedge us out: 
+we'll hear you sing, certainly. 
+
+Pan. Well, sweet queen, you are pleasant 
+with me. But, marry, thus, my lord: my dear 
+lord and most esteemed friend, your brother 
+Troilus,— 
+Helen. My Lord Pandarus; honey-sweet 
+ord,— 
+
+
+ACT IIL. 
+Scene I. Troy. Priam's palace. 
+Enter a Servant and PANDARUS, 
+
+
+Pan. Friend, you! pray you, a word: do 
+~ not you follow the young Lord Paris> 
+Serv. Ay, sir, when he goes before me. 
+Pan. You depend upon him, I mean? 
+Serv. Sir, I do depend upon the lord. 
+Pan. You depend upon a noble gentle- 
+man; I must needs praise him. 
+_ Serv. The lord be praised! 
+Pan. You know me, do you not? 
+_ Serv. Faith, sir, superficially. 10 
+_ Pan. Friend, know me better; I am the 
+ord Pandarus. 
+Serv. I hope I shall know your honour 
+better. ,. 
+_ Pan. I do desire it. 
+Serv, You are in the state of grace. 
+Pan. Grace! not so, friend; honour and 
+lordship are my titles. [Music within.] 
+~ What music is this? 
+Serv. I do but partly know, sir; it is 
+‘music in parts. 20 
+
+
+786 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+[Acr III, Se. I 
+
+
+Pan. Go to, sweet queen, go to:—com- 
+mends himself most affectionately to you,— 
+
+Helen. You shall not bob us out of our 
+melody: if you do, our melancholy upon your 
+head! 
+
+Pan. Sweet queen, sweet queen! that’s a 
+sweet queen, i’ faith. 
+
+Helen. And to make a sweet lady sad is 
+a sour offence. 80 
+
+Pan. Nay, that shall not serve your turn; 
+that shall it not, in truth, la. Nay, I care 
+not for such words; no, no. And, my lord, 
+he desires you, that if the king call for him 
+at supper, you will make his excuse. 
+
+Helen. My Lord Pandarus,— 
+
+Pan, What says my sweet queen, my very 
+very sweet queen > 
+
+Par. What exploit’s in hand? where sups 
+he to-night? 90 
+
+Helen. Nay, but, my lord,— 
+
+Pan. What says my sweet queen? 
+cousin will fall out with you. 
+know where he sups. 
+
+Par. \'ll lay my life, with my disposer 
+Cressida. 
+
+Pan. No, no, no such matter; you are 
+wide: come, your disposer is sick. 
+
+Par. Well, Ill make excuse. 99 
+
+Pan. Ay, good my lord. Why should you 
+say Cressida? no, your poor disposer 's sick. 
+
+Par. | spy. 
+
+Pan. You spy! what do you spy? Come, 
+give me an instrument. Now, sweet queen. 
+
+Helen. Why, this is kindly done. 
+
+Pan. My niece is horribly in love with a 
+thing you have, sweet queen. 
+
+Helen. She shall have it, my lord, if it be 
+not my lord Paris. 
+
+Pan. He! no, she'll none of him; they 
+two are twain. ian 
+
+Helen. Falling in, after falling out, may 
+make them three. 
+
+Pan. Come, come, I'll hear no more of 
+this; I ‘Il sing you a song now. 
+
+Helen. Ay, ay, prithee now. By my troth, 
+sweet lord, thou hast a fine forehead. 
+
+Pan, Ay, you may, you may. 
+
+
+My 
+
+
+You must not 
+
+
+Helen. Let thy song be love: this love ! 
+
+
+will undo us all. O Cupid, Cupid, Cupid! 
+Pan. Love! ay, that it shall, i’ faith. 
+Par. Ay, good now, love, love, nothing but 
+love. 
+Pan. In good troth, it begins so. 
+Love, love, nothing but love, 
+For, O, love’s bow 
+Shoots buck and doe: 
+The shaft confounds, 
+Not that it wounds, 
+But tickles still the sore. 
+
+
+[Sings. 
+
+
+still more! 
+
+
+130 
+
+
+These lovers cry Oh! oh! they die! 
+Yet that which seems the wound to 
+kill, 
+Doth turn oh! oh! to ha! ha! he! 
+So dying love lives still: 
+Oh! oh! a while, but ha! ha! ha! 
+Oh! oh! groans out for hal ha! ha! 
+Heigh-ho! 
+Helen. In love, i’ faith, to the very tip of 
+the nose. 139 
+Par. He eats nothing but doves, love, and 
+that breeds hot blood, and hot blood begets 
+hot thoughts, and hot thoughts beget hot deeds, 
+and hot deeds is love. 
+Pan. Is this the generation of love? hot 
+blood, hot thoughts, and hot deeds? Why, 
+
+
+they are vipers: is love a generation of’* 
+
+
+vipers? Sweet lord, who's a-field to-day? 
+
+Par. Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Ante- 
+nor, and all the gallantry of Troy: I would 
+fain have armed to-day, but my Nell would 
+not have it so. How chance my brother 
+Troilus went not? 
+
+Helen. He hangs the lip at something: 
+you know all, Lord Pandarus. 
+
+Pan. Not I, honey-sweet queen. I long 
+to hear how they sped to-day. You'll re- 
+
+
+‘member your brother's excuse? 
+
+
+Par. To a hair. 
+Pan. Farewell, sweet queen. 
+Helen. Commend me to your niece. 
+Pan, I will, sweet queen. [Exit. 
+[A retreat sounded. 
+Par, They're come from field: let us to 
+Priam’s hall, 161 
+To greet the warriors. Sweet Helen, I must 
+woo you 
+To help unerm our Hector: his stubborn 
+buckles, 
+With these your white enchanting fingers 
+touch’d, | 
+Shall more obey than to the edge of steel 
+
+
+Or force of Greekish sinews; you shall do — 
+
+
+more 
+
+
+Than all the island kings,—disarm great Hec- — 
+
+
+tor. 
+Helen. "Twill make us proud to be his — 
+
+
+servant, Paris: 
+Yea, what he shali receive of us in duty 
+
+
+Gives us more palm in beauty than we have, — 
+
+
+Yea, overshines ourself. 7i 
+Par. Sweet, above thought I love thee. 
+
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. The same. 
+Enter PANDARus and TroiLus’ Boy, 
+meeting, 
+
+Pan, How now! where's thy master? at 
+my cousin Cressida’s? 
+
+
+Pandarus’ orchard. 
+
+
+Act III, Se. I] 
+
+
+Boy. No, sir; he stays for you to conduct 
+him thither. 
+Pan. O, here he comes. 
+
+
+Enter. TROILus. 
+
+
+How now, how now! 
+Tro. Sirrah, walk off. [Exit Boy. 
+Pan, Have you seen my cousin? 
+Tro. No, Pandarus: I stalk about her 
+door, 
+Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks 10 
+Staying for waftage. O, be thou my Charon, 
+And give me swift transportance to those 
+fields 
+Where I may wallow in the lily-beds 
+Proposed for the deserver! O gentle Pan- 
+: darus, 
+From Cupid’s shoulder pluck his painted 
+N wings, 
+And fly with me to Cressid! 
+Pan. Walk here i’ the orchard, I'll bring 
+her straight. [ Exit. 
+Tro. 1 am giddy; expectation whirls me 
+\ round, 
+| The imaginary relish is so sweet 20 
+That it enchants my sense: what will it be, 
+When that the watery palate tastes indeed 
+Love's thrice repured nectar? death, I fear 
+me, s 
+Swooning destruction, or somo joy too fine, 
+Too subtle-potent, tuned too sharp in sweet- 
+ness, 
+For the capacity of my ruder powers: 
+I fear it much; and I do fear besides, 
+That I shall lose distinction in my joys; 
+As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps 
+The enemy flying. 30 
+
+
+Re-enter PANDARUS. 
+
+
+Pan, She's making her ready, she ‘Il come 
+"straight: you must be witty now. She does 
+so blush, and fetches her wind so short, as if 
+| she were frayed with a sprite; I'll fetch her. 
+* It is the prettiest villain: she fetches her 
+g breath as short as a new-ta’en sparrow. [Exit. 
+bosom: 
+
+@ My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse; 
+And all my powers do their bestowing lose, 
+Like vassalage at unawares encountering 40 
+_ The eye of majesty. 
+
+
+Re-enter PANDARUS with CRESSIDA. 
+
+
+Pan. Come, come, what need you blush? 
+
+- shame'’s a baby. Here she is now: swear the 
+oaths now to her that you have sworn to me. 
+What, are you gone again? you must be 
+watched ere you be made tame, must you? 
+_ Come your ways, come your ways; an you 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+¥ Tro. Even such a passion doth embrace my. 
+
+
+78? 
+
+
+draw backward, we'll put you i’ the fills, 
+Why do you not speak to her? come, draw 
+this curtain, and let’s see your picture. Alas 
+the day, how loath you are to offend daylight! 
+and ‘twere dark, you ‘Id close sooner. So, so; 
+rub on, and kiss the mistress). How now! a 
+kiss in fee-farm! build there, carpenter; the 
+air is sweet. Ay, you shall fight your hearts 
+out ere I part you. The falcon as the tercel, 
+for all the ducks i’ the river; go to, go to. 
+
+Tro. You have bereft me of all words, 
+lady. 
+
+Pan. Words pay no debts, give her deeds: 
+but she'll bereave you o' the deeds too, if 
+she call your activity in question, What, bill- 
+ing again? Here's ‘In witness whereof the 
+parties interchangeably—Come in, come in: 
+I'll go get a fire. [Exit. 
+
+Cres. Will you walk in, my lord? 
+
+Tro. O Cressida, how often have I wished 
+me thus! 
+
+Cres. Wished, my lord! The gods grant,— 
+O my lord! 
+
+Tro. What should they grant? what makes 
+this pretty abruption? What too curious dreg 
+espies my sweet lady in the fountain of our 
+
+
+love? 71 
+Cres. More dregs than water, if my fears 
+have eyes. 
+Tro. Fears make devils of cherubins; 
+
+
+they never see truly. 
+
+Cres. Blind fear, that seeing reason leads, 
+finds safer footing than blind reason stum- 
+bling without fear: to fear the worst oft 
+cures the worse. 
+
+Tro. O, let my lady apprehend no fear: in 
+all Cupid’s pageant there is presented no 
+monster. 8l 
+
+Cres. Nor nothing monstrous neither? 
+
+Tro. Nothing, but our undertakings; when 
+we vow to weep seas, live in fire, eat rocks, 
+tame tigers; thinking it harder for our mis- 
+tress to devise imposition enough than for us 
+to undergo any difficulty imposed. This is 
+the monstruosity in love, lady, that the will is 
+infinite and the execution confined, that the 
+desire is boundless and the act a slave to 
+limit. 
+
+Cres. They say all lovers swear more per- 
+formance than they are able and yet reserve 
+an ability that they never perform, vowing 
+more than the perfection of ten and discharg- 
+ing less than the tenth part of one. They 
+that have the voice of lions and the act of 
+hares, are they not monsters? 
+
+Tro. Are there such? such are not we: 
+praise us as we are tasted, allow us as we 
+prove; our head shall go bare till merit crown 
+it: no perfection in reversion shall have a 
+
+
+788 
+
+
+praise in present: we will not name desert be- 
+fore his birth, and, being born, his addition 
+shall be humble. Few words to fair faith: 
+Troilus shall be such to Cressid as what envy 
+can say worst shall be a mock for his truth 
+and what truth can speak truest not truer than 
+Troilus, 
+Cres, Will you walk in, my lord? 
+
+
+Re-enter PANDARUS, 
+
+
+Pan. What, blushing still? have you not 
+done talking yet? 
+
+Cres. Well, uncle, what folly I commit, I 
+dedicate to you. Hl 
+
+Pan. I thank you for that: if my lord get 
+a boy of you, you'll give him me. Be true 
+my lord: if he flinch, chide me for it. 
+
+Tro. You know now your hostages; your 
+uncle’s word and my firm faith. 
+
+Pan. Nay, I'll give my word for her too: 
+our kindred, though they be long ere they are 
+
+
+wooed, they are constant being won; they are 
+burs, I can tell you; they ‘Il stick where they 
+are thrown. 120 
+
+
+Cres. Boldness comes to me now, and 
+brings me heart. 
+Prince Troilus, I have loved you night and 
+day 
+For many weary months. 
+
+
+Tro. Why was my Cressid then so hard 
+to win? 
+
+Cres. Hard to seem won: but I was won, 
+my lord, 
+
+
+With the first glance that ever—pardon me— 
+
+If I confess much, you will play the tyrant, 
+
+I love you now; but not, till now, so much 
+
+But I might master it: in faith, I lie; 
+
+My thoughts were like unbridled children, 
+grown 130 
+
+Too headstrong for their mother. 
+fools! 
+
+Why have I blabb’d? who shall be true to us, 
+
+When we are so unsecret to ourselves? 
+
+But, though I loved you well, I woo'd you 
+not: 
+
+And yet, good faith, I wish’d myself a man, 
+
+Or that we women had men’s privilege 
+
+Of speaking first. Sweet, bid me hold my 
+tongue, 
+
+For in this rapture I shall surely speak 
+
+The thing I shall repent. See, see, your 
+
+
+See, we 
+
+
+silence, 
+Cunning in dumbness, from my weakness 
+draws 140 
+
+
+My very soul of counsel! stop my mouth. 
+Tro. And shall, albeit sweet music issues 
+thence. 
+
+
+Pan. Pretty, i faith. 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+— ee 
+
+
+(Act Ill, Sc. I 
+
+
+Cres. My lord, I beseech you, pardon me; 
+"Twas not my purpose, thus to beg a kiss: 
+I am ashamed. O heavens! 
+
+done? 
+
+For this time will I take my leave, my lord. 
+
+Tro. Your leave, sweet Cressid! 
+
+Pan. Leave! an you take leave till to- — 
+morrow morning,— 150 
+
+Cres. Pray you, content you. 
+
+What offends you, lady? 
+
+. Sir, mine own company. 
+
+
+Tro. You cannot shun 
+Y ourself, 
+Cres. Let me go and try: 
+
+
+I have a kind of self resides with you; 
+But an unkind self, that itself will leave, 
+To be another's fool. I would be gone: 
+Where is my wit? I know not what I speak. 
+
+
+Tro. Well know they what they speak that 4 
+
+
+speak so wisely. 
+
+Cres. Perchance, my lord, I show more 
+craft than love; 
+
+And fell so roundly to a large confession, 
+
+
+To angle for your thoughts: but you are wise, 
+
+
+Or else you love not, for to be wise and love © 
+Exceeds man's might; 
+above. 
+
+
+Tro. 
+
+
+As, if it can, I will presume im you— 
+
+
+To feed for aye her lamp and flames of love; Ht 
+To keep her constancy in plight and youth, 
+
+
+Outliving beauty’s outward, with a mind 
+
+That doth rénew swifter than blood decays! 
+
+Or that persuasion could but thus convince 
+me, 
+
+That my integrity and truth to you 
+
+Might be affronted with the match and | 
+weight 
+
+Of such a winnow’d purity in love; 
+
+How were I then uplifted! but, alas! 
+
+I am as true as truth’s simplicity 
+
+And smipler than the infancy of truth. 
+
+Cres. In that I "ll war with you. hae 
+Tro. © virtuous fight, 
+When right with right wars who shall I 
+most right! a 
+True swains in love shall in the world to come 
+Approve their truths by Troilus: when ed 
+
+rhymes, 181 - 
+Full of protest, of oath and big compare, : 
+Want similes, truth tired with iteration, 
+As true as steel, as plantage to the moon, 
+As sun to day, as turtle to her mate, 
+As iron to adamant, as earth to the centre, 
+Yet, after all comparisons of truth, 
+As truth’s authentic author to be cited, ; 
+“As true as Troilus’ shall crown up the verse, 
+And sanctify the numbers. x 
+
+
+what have I © 
+
+
+160 | 
+
+
+that dwells with gods — 
+O, that I thought it could be in aa 
+
+
+ii 
+woman— 4| 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+* Aer It, S 
+
+
+C. Til] TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 789 
+
+As new into the world, strange, unacquainted: 
+
+I do beseech you, as in way of taste, 
+
+To give me now a little benefit, 
+
+Out of those many register’d in promise, 
+
+Which, you say, live to come in my behalf. 
+
+Agam. What wouldst thou of us, Trojan? 
+make demand. 
+Cal. You have a Trojan prisoner, call’d 
+
+Antenor, 
+
+‘Yesterday took: Troy holds him very dear. 
+
+Oft have you—often have you thanks there- 
+fore— 
+
+Desired my Cressid in right great exchange,Z 
+
+Whom Troy hath still denied: but this An- 
+tenor, 
+
+I know, is such a wrest in their affairs 
+
+That their negotiations all must slack, 
+
+Wanting his manage; and they will almost 
+
+Give us a prince of blood, a son of Priam, 
+
+In change of him: let him be sent, great 
+princes, 
+
+And he shall buy my daughter; and her 
+presence 
+
+Shall quite strike off all service I have done, 
+
+In most accepted pain. 
+
+
+Cres. Prophet may you be! 
+If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth, 19] 
+When time is old and hath forgot itself, 
+When waterdrops have worn the stones of 
+
+Troy, 
+And blind oblivion swallow’d cities up, 
+And mighty states characterless are grated 
+To dusty nothing, yet let memory, 
+From false to false, among false maids in 
+
+
+love, 
+Upbraid my falsehood! when they ‘ve said 
+‘as false 
+As air, as water, wind, or sandy earth, 
+As fox to lamb, as wolf to heifer’s calf, 200 
+Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son,” 
+Yea,’ let them say, to stick the heart of false- 
+hood, 
+*As false as Cressid.’ 
+. Pan. Go to, a bargain made: seal it, seal 
+Gt; I'll be. the witness. Here I hold your 
+| hand, here my cousin's. If ever you prove 
+false one to another, since I have taken such 
+pains to bring you together, let all pitiful go- 
+ers-between be called to the world’s end after 
+my name; call them all Pandars; let all con- 
+
+
+_ stant men be Troiluses, all false women Cres-| Agam. Let Diomedes bear him, 30 
+| sids, and all brokers-between Pandars! say, | And bring us Cressid hither: Calchas_ shall 
+amen. have 
+Tro. Amen. What he requests of tis. Good Diomed, 
+
+
+Cres. Amen. Furnish you fairly for this interchange: 
+Pan. Amen. Wherecpon I will show you Withal bring word if Hector will to-morrow 
+a chamber with a bed; which bed, because it | Be answer'd in his challenge: Ajax is ready. 
+shall not speak of your pretty encounters, Dio. This shall I undertake; and ‘tis a 
+_ press it to death: away! burden 
+And Cupid grant all tongue-tied maidens here| Which I am proud to bear. 
+Bed, chamber, Pandar to provide st gear! [Exeunt Diomedes and Calchas. 
+xeunt, 
+
+
+Scene III. The Grecian camp. Before 
+Achilles’ tent. 
+
+
+| Enter AGAMEMNON, Utysses, DI0MEDEs, 
+Nestor, Ajax, MENELaus, and CALCHAS. 
+
+
+Cal. Now, princes, for the service I have 
+
+
+Enter ACHILLEs and Patroc.us, before 
+their tent. 
+
+
+Ulyss. Achilles stands i’ the entrance of 
+his tent: 
+Please it our general to pass strangely by him, 
+As if he were forgot; and, princes all, 
+
+
+done you, 
+The advantage of the time prompts me | Lay negligent and loose regard upon him: 
+? aloud _| ['will come last. "Tis like he ll question me 
+To call for recompense. Appear it to your | Why such unplausive eyes are bent on him: 
+FY mind If so, I have derision medicinable, 
+That, through the sight I bear in things to| To use between your strangeness and his 
+love, pride, 
+
+
+Which his own will shall have desire to 
+drink: 
+
+It may do good: pride hath no other glass 
+
+To show itself but pride, for supple knees 
+
+Feed arrogance and are the proud man’s fees. 
+
+Agam. We'll execute your purpose, and 
+
+put on 50 
+
+A form of strangeness as we pass along: 
+
+So do each lord, and either greet him not, 
+
+
+I have abandon’d Troy, left my possession, 
+~ Incurr’d, a traitor’s name; exposed myself, 
+Ka From certain and possess’d conveniences, 
+To doubtful fortunes; sequestering from me 
+> all 
+
+| hat time, acquaintance, custom and condi- 
+a tion ; 
+
+_ Made tame and most familiar to my nature, 10 
+_ And here, to do you service, am become 
+
+
+790 
+
+
+Or else disdainfully, which shall shake him 
+more 
+Than if not look’d on. I will lead the way. 
+Achil. What, comes the general to speak 
+with me? 
+You know my mind, I'll fight no more ‘gainst 
+
+
+Troy. 
+
+Agam. What says Achilles? would. he 
+aught with us? 
+
+Nest. Would you, my lord, aught with the 
+general ? 
+
+Achil. No. 
+
+Nest. Nothing, my lord, 
+
+Agam. The better. 
+
+[Exeunt Agamemnon and Nestor. 
+Achil. Good day, good day. 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+Men. How do you? how do you? [Exit. 
+Achil. What, does the cuckold scorn me? 
+Ajax. How now, Patroclus! 
+Achil. Good morrow, Ajax. 
+
+
+. Ha? 
+
+
+. Good morrow. 
+
+
+Ajax. Ay, and good next day too, [Exit. 
+Achil. What mean these fellows? Know 
+they not Achilles? 70 
+
+
+Pair. They pass by strangely; they were 
+
+used to bend, 
+
+To send their smiles before them to Achilles; 
+
+To come as humbly as they used to creep 
+
+To holy altars. 
+
+Achil. What, am I poor of late? 
+
+‘Tis certain, greatness, once fall’n out with 
+fortune, 
+
+Must fall out with men too: what the de- 
+clined is 
+
+He shall as soon read in the eyes of others 
+
+As feel in his own fall; for men, like butter- 
+flies, 
+
+Show not their mealy wings but to the sum- 
+mer, 
+
+And not a man, for being simply man, 80 
+
+Hath any honour, but honour for those 
+honours 
+
+That are without him, as place, riches, favour, 
+
+Prizes of accident as oft as merit: 
+
+Which when they fall, as being slippery 
+standers, 
+
+To love that lean’d on them as slippery too, 
+
+Do one pluck down another and together 
+
+Die in the fall. But ‘tis not so with me: 
+
+Fortune and I are friends: I do enjoy 
+
+At ample point all that I did possess, 
+
+Save these men’s looks; who do, methinks, 
+find out 90 
+
+
+Something not worth in me such rich behold- 
+
+
+ing 
+As they have often given. Here is Ulysses: 
+I'll interrupt his reading. 
+How now, Ulysses! 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+[Acr III, Sc. Hl 
+
+
+Ulyss, Now, great Thetis’ son! 
+Achil, What are you reading? 
+
+
+Ulyss. A strange fellow here 
+Writes me: “That man, how dearly ever 
+parted, : 
+
+
+How much in having, or without or in, 
+
+Cannot make boast to have that which he 
+hath, 
+
+Nor feels not what he owes, but by reflection; 
+
+As when his virtues shining upon others 100 
+
+Heat them and they retort that heat again 
+
+To the first giver.’ 
+
+Achil. This is not strange, Ulysses, 
+The beauty that is borne here in the face 
+The bearer knows not, but commends itself 
+To others’ eyes; nor doth the eye itself, 
+That most pure spirit of sense, behold itself, 
+Not going from itself; but eye to eye opposed 
+Salutes each other with each other's form; 
+For speculation turns not to itself, 
+
+Till it hath travell’d and is mirror’d there 110 
+Where it may see itself. This is not strange 
+at all. 
+
+Ulyss. I do not strain at the position,—= 
+It is familiar,—but at the author's drift; 
+Who, in his circumstance, expressly proves 
+That no man is the lord of any thing, 
+Though in and of him there be much con- 
+
+sisting, 
+Till he communicate his parts to others; 
+Nor doth he of himself know them for aught 
+Till he behold them form’d in the applause 
+Where they're. extended; who, like an arch, 
+reverberates 120 
+The voice again, or, like a gate of steel 
+Fronting the sun, receives and renders back 
+His figure and his heat. I was much wrapt 
+in this; 
+And apprehended here immediately. 
+The unknown Ajax. 
+Heavens, what a man is there! a very horse, 
+That has he knows not what. Nature, what 
+things there are 
+Most abject in regard and dear in use! 
+What things again most dear in the esteem 
+And poor in worth! Now shall we see to- 
+morrow— 130 
+
+
+An act that very chance doth throw upon 
+
+
+him— 
+
+Perales O heavens, what some men 
+oO, f 
+
+While some men leave to do! 
+How some men creep in skittish fortune’s hall, 
+While others play the idiots in her eyes! 
+How one man eats into another's pride, ° 
+While pride is fasting in his wantonness! 
+
+
+To see these Grecian lords!—why, even al- 
+
+
+ready 
+
+
+They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder, | 
+
+
+~ Act Ill, Sc. Ill] 
+
+
+And great Troy shrieking. 
+
+
+me 
+As misers do by beggars, neither gave to me 
+
+
+% 
+
+| Good word nor look: what, are my deeds 
+; forgot> 
+
+| _Ulyss. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his 
+$ back, 
+
+
+| Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, 
+
+ie A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: 
+
+| Those scraps are good deeds past; which are 
+devour'd 
+
+_ As fast as they are made, forgot as soon 
+
+| As done: perseverance, dear my lord, 150 
+
+| Keeps honour bright: to have done is to hang 
+~ Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail 
+
+| In monumental mockery. Take the instant 
+
+way; 
+
+e ‘or honour travels in a strait so narrow, 
+
+_ Where one but goes abreast: keep then the 
+
+path; 
+
+| For emulation hath a thousand sons 
+
+_ That one by one pursue: if you give way, 
+
+Or hedge aside from the direct forthright, 
+
+_ Like to an enter’d tide, they all rush by 
+
+| And leave you hindmost; 160 
+
+Or, like a gallant horse fall'n in first rank, 
+
+Lie there for pavement to the abject rear, 
+
+_ O’er-run and trampled on: then what they do 
+
+I ‘in present, 
+
+| Though less than yours in past, must o’ertop 
+yours; 
+
+For time is like a fashionable host 
+
+That slightly shakes his parting guest by the 
+
+lee) .shand, 
+
+i And with his arms outstretch’d, as he would 
+aa. fly, 
+
+Grasps in the comer: welcome ever smiles, 
+
+And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not 
+
+virtue seek 
+
+| Remuneration for the thing it was; 170 
+
+. For beauty, wit, 
+
+‘High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, 
+
+Loye, friendship, charity, are subjects all 
+
+
+gawds, 
+_ Though they are made and moulded of things 
+Gane yipast,s: 
+And give to dust that is a little gilt 
+~ More laud than gilt o’er-dusted. 
+The present eye praises the present object: 
+Then marvel not, thou great and complete 
+ee man, 
+That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax; 
+
+
+Wiince things in motion sooner catch the eye 
+
+
+D 
+{ 
+
+
+= 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+_ As if his foot were on brave Hector’s breast | Than what not stirs. 
+
+
+791 
+
+
+The cry went once on 
+thee, 
+
+
+Achil. 1 do believe it; for they pass’'d by | And still it might, and yet it may again, 
+
+
+If thou wouldst not entomb thyself alive 
+
+And case thy reputation in thy tent; 
+
+Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of 
+late, 
+
+Made emulous missions ‘mongst the gods 
+themselves 
+
+And drave great Mars to faction. 
+
+
+Achil. Of this my privacy 190 
+I have strong reasons. 
+Ulyss. But ‘gainst your privacy 
+
+
+The reasons are more potent and heroical: 
+‘Tis known, Achilles, that you are in love 
+With one of Priam’s daughters. 
+
+Achil. 
+
+Ulyss. Is that a wonder? 
+The providence that’s in a watchful state 
+Knows almost every grain of Plutus’ gold, 
+Finds bottom in the uncomprehensive deeps, 
+Keeps Bice with thought and almost, like the 
+
+gods, 
+Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles. 200 
+There is a mystery—with whom relation 
+Durst never meddle—in the soul of state; 
+Which hath an operation more divine 
+Than breath or pen can give expressure to: 
+All the commerce that you have had with 
+Troy 
+As perfectly is ours as yours, my lord; 
+And better would it fit Achilles much 
+To throw down Hector than Polyxena: 
+But it must grieve young Pyrrhus now at 
+
+
+Ha! known! 
+
+
+home, 
+When fame shall in our islands sound her 
+trump, 210 
+
+
+And all the Greekish girls shall tripping sing, 
+“Great Hector’s sister did Achilles win, 
+But our great Ajax bravely beat down him.’ 
+Farwell, my lord: I as your lover speak; 
+The fool slides o'er the ice that you should 
+break. [Exit. 
+Patr. To this Achilles, have I 
+
+
+moved you: 
+
+
+effect, 
+
+
+| A woman impudent and mannish grown 
+
+
+Is not more loathed than an effeminate man 
+In time of action. I stand condemn’d for this: 
+They think my little stomach to the war 220 
+And your great love to me restrains you thus: 
+Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton 
+Cupid 
+Shall from your neck unloose his amorous 
+fold, 
+And, like a dew-drop from the lion’s mane, 
+Be shook to air. 
+Achil. Shall Ajax fight with Hector? 
+Patr. Ay, and perhaps receive much hon- 
+our by him. 
+
+
+792 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+; 
+~* 4 
+[Act IV, Sc. I 
+
+
+Achil. I see my reputation is at stake; 
+My fame is shrewdly gored. 
+Pair. O, then, beware; 
+Those wounds heal ill that men do give them- 
+selves: 
+Omission to do what is necessary 230 
+Seals a commission to a blank of danger; 
+And danger, like an ague, subtly taints 
+Even then when we sit idly in the sun, 
+Achil. Go call Thersites hither, 
+Patroclus: 
+I'll send the fool to Ajax and desire him 
+To invite the Trojan lords after the combat 
+To see us here unarm’d: { have a woman’s 
+longing, 
+An appetite that I am sick withal, 
+To see great Hector in his weeds of peace, 
+To talk with him and to behold his visage, 240 
+
+
+Even to my full of view. 
+
+
+sweet 
+
+
+Enter THERSITES. 
+
+
+A labour saved! 
+
+Ther. A wonder! 
+
+Achil, What? 
+
+Ther. Ajax goes up and down the field, 
+asking for himself. 
+
+Achil. How so? 
+
+Ther. He must fight singly to-morrow with 
+Hector, and is so prophetically proud of an 
+heroical cudgelling that he raves in saying 
+
+
+nothing. 
+Achil, How can that be? 250 
+Ther. Why, he stalks up and down like a 
+
+
+peacock,—a stride and a stand: ruminates like 
+an hostess that hath no arithmetic but her 
+brain to set down her reckoning: bites his lip 
+with a politic regard, as who should say 
+"There were wit in his head, an ‘twould out;’ 
+and so there is, but it lies as coldly in him as 
+fire in a flint, which will not show without 
+knocking. The man’s undone for ever; for if 
+Hector break not his neck i’ the combat, he ‘Il 
+break ‘t himself in vain-glory. He knows not 
+me: I said ‘Good morrow, Ajax;’ and he 
+replies “Thanks, Agamemnon.’ What think 
+you of this man that takes me for the gen- 
+eral? He’s grown a very land-fish, lan- 
+guageless, a monster. A plague of opinion! 
+a man may wear it on both sides, like a 
+leather jerkin. 
+
+Achil. Thou must be my ambassador to 
+him, Thersites. 
+
+Ther. Who, 1? why, he'll answer no- 
+body; he professes not answering: speaking is 
+for beggars; he wears his tongue in’s arms. 
+I will put on his presence: let Patroclus make 
+demands to me, you shall see the pageant of 
+Ajax. 
+
+
+Achil. To him, Patroclus: tell him I 
+
+
+humbly desire the valiant Ajax to invite the — 
+most valorous Hector to come unarmed to my 
+tent, and to procure safe-conduct for his per- 
+son of the magnanimous and most illustrious 
+six-or-seven-times-honoured captain-general of 
+the Grecian army, Agamemnon, et cetera. 
+Do this. 280 
+
+Pair. Jove bless great Ajax! 
+
+Ther. Hum! 
+
+Patr. 1 come from the worthy Achilles,— 
+
+Ther. Ha! 
+
+Patr. Who most humbly desires you to 
+invite Hector to his tent,— 
+
+
+Ther. Hum! 
+
+Pair. And to procure safe-conduct from 
+Agamemnon. 4 
+Ther. Agamemnon! 290° 
+
+Pair. Ay, my lord. 
+Ther. Ha! 
+Patr. What say you tot? 
+
+
+Ther, God b’ wi’ you, with all my heart, — 
+Patr. Your answer, sir. ° / 
+Ther. If to-morrow be a fair day, by 
+
+eleven o'clock it will go one way or other; 
+
+howsoever, he shall pay for me ere he has — 
+
+me. X 
+Patr. Your answer, sir. f 
+Ther. Fare you well, with all my heart. 300 
+Achil, Why, but he is not in this tune, is _ 
+
+he? i 
+Ther. No, but he’s out o’ tune thus. What 
+
+music will be in him when Hector has — 
+
+knocked out his brains, I know not; but, I am — 
+
+sure, none, tinless the fiddler Apollo get his ‘i 
+
+sinews to make catlings on. 4 
+Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to 
+
+him straight. y 
+Ther. Let me bear another to his horse; | 
+
+for that’s the more capable creature. 3109) 
+Achil. My mind is troubled, like a foun- — 
+
+tain stirr’d; 
+
+And I myself see not the bottom of it. BI 
+
+[Exeunt Achilles and Patroclus. | 
+
+Ther. Would the fountain of your mind 
+were clear again, that I might water an ass at | 
+it! I had rather be a tick in a sheep a | 
+
+
+such a valiant ignorance. [Exit 
+
+
+ACT IV. | 
+Scene I. Troy. A street. i 
+
+
+Enter, from one side, HENEAS, and Servant 
+with a torch; from the other, Paris, DEI- — 
+PHOBUS, ANTENOR, DIOMEDES, and others, — 
+with torches. sa 
+Par. See, ho! who is that there? A 
+Dei. Tt is the Lord AEneas. © 
+“Ene. Is the prince there in person? { 
+
+Had I so good occasion to lie lono 
+
+
+t 
+S, 
+
+
+Act WA Sc. II] 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+793 
+
+
+As you, Prince Paris, nothing but heavenly 
+business 
+Should rob my bed-mate of my company. 
+Dio. That’s my mind too. Good morrow, 
+Lord /Eneas. 
+. A valiant Greek, AEneas,—take his 
+hand,— 
+Witness the process of your speech, wherein 
+You told how Diomed, a whole week by 
+
+
+ie days, 
+
+
+| 
+| 
+| 
+! 
+i 
+
+
+Did haunt you in the field. 
+ne, Health to you, valiant sir, 10 
+During all question of the gentle truce; 
+But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance 
+As heart can think or courage execute. 
+Dio. The one and other Diomed embraces. 
+Our bloods are now in calm; and, so long, 
+
+
+health! 
+
+
+\ But when contention and occasion meet, 
+_ By Jove, Ill play the hunter for thy life 
+
+
+With all my force, pursuit and policy. 
+“Ene. And thou shalt hunt a lion, that 
+
+
+will fly 
+With his face backward. In humane gentle- 
+ness, 20 
+
+
+~ Welcome to Troy! now, by Anchises’ life, 
+
+
+Welcome, indeed! By Venus’ hand I swear, 
+
+No man alive can love in such a sort 
+
+The thing he means to kill more excellently. 
+Dio. We sympathise: Jove, let /Eneas live, 
+
+If to my sword his fate be not the glory, 
+
+A thousand complete courses of the sun! 
+
+But, in mine emulous honour, let him die, 
+
+
+With every joint a wound, and that 
+tomorrow! 
+ZEne. We know each other well. 30 
+Dio. We do; and long to know each other 
+worse. 
+Par. This is the most despiteful gentle 
+greeting, 
+
+
+The noblest hateful love, that e’er I heard of. 
+What business, lord, so early? 
+ZEne. I was sent for to the king; but why, 
+I know not. 
+Par. His purpose meets you: ‘twas to bring 
+this Greek 
+To Calchas’ house, and there to render him, 
+For the enfreed Antenor, the fair Cressid: 
+Let’s have your company, or, if you please, 
+Haste there before us: I constantly do think— 
+Or rather, call my thought a certain know- 
+ledge— 4| 
+My brother Troilus lodges there to-night: 
+Rouse him and give him note of our approach, 
+With the whole quality wherefore: I fear 
+We shall be much unwelcome. 
+fEne. That I assure you: 
+Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece 
+
+
+Than Cressid borne from Troy. 
+
+
+Bots & 
+
+
+Par, There is no help; 
+The bitter disposition of the time 
+Will have it so. On, lord; we'll follow you. 
+“Ene. Good morrow, all. 50 
+[Exit with Servant. 
+Par. And tell me, noble Diomed, faith, 
+tell me true, 
+Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship, 
+Who, in your thoughts, merits fair Helen 
+
+
+best, 
+Myself or Menelaus? 
+io. Both alike: 
+
+
+He roe well to have her, that doth seek 
+er, 
+
+Not making any scruple of her soilure, 
+
+With such a hell of pain and world of charge, 
+
+And you as well to keep her, that defend her, 
+
+Not palating the taste of her dishonour, 
+
+With such a costly loss of wealth and 
+friends: 
+
+
+‘He, like a puling cuckold, would drink up 6! 
+
+
+The lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece; 
+You, .like a lecher, out of whorish loins 
+Are pleased to breed out your inheritors: 
+Both merits poised, each weighs nor less nor 
+
+
+more; 
+But he as he, the heavier for a whore. 
+Par. You are too bitter to your country- 
+woman. 
+Dio. She’s bitter to her country: hear me, 
+Paris: 
+For every false drop in her bawdy veins 
+A Grecian’s life hath sunk; for every scruple 
+Of her contaminated carrion weight, 
+A Trojan hath been slain: since she could 
+speak, 
+She hath not given so many good words 
+breath 
+As for her Greeks and Trojans suffer’d death. 
+Par. Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do, 
+Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy: 
+But we in silence hold this virtue well, 
+We'll but commend what we intend to sell. 
+Here lies our way. Exeunt. 
+
+
+The same. Court of Pandarus’ 
+house. 
+
+
+Enter Troitus and CREsSIDA. 
+
+
+Tro. Dear, trouble not yourself: the morn 
+
+is cold. 
+
+Cres. Then, sweet my lord, I'll call mine 
+
+uncle down; 
+He shall unbolt the gates. 
+
+Tro. Trouble him not; 
+To bed, to bed: sleep kill those pretty eyes, 
+And give as soft attachment to thy senses 
+As infants’ empty of all thought! 
+
+Cres. Good morrow, then! 
+
+Tro. | prithee now, to bed. 
+
+
+Scene II. 
+
+
+794 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc. IL 
+
+
+Cres. Are you a-weary of me? 
+Tro. O Cressida! but that the busy day, 
+Waked by the lark, hath roused the ribald 
+
+
+crows, 
+And dreaming night will hide our joys no 
+longer, | 
+
+I would not from thee. 
+Cres. Night hath been too brief. 
+Tro. Beshrew the witch! with venomous 
+
+
+wights she stays 
+As tediously as hell, but flies the grasps of 
+love 
+With = wings 
+thought. 
+You will catch cold, and curse me. 
+Cres. Prithee, tarry: 
+You men will never tarry. 
+O foolish Cressid! I might have still held 
+off, 
+And then you would have tarried. Hark! 
+there ’s one up 
+
+
+more momentary-swift than 
+
+
+Pan. [Within] What, * s all the doors open 
+here? 
+
+Tro. It is your uncle. 20 
+
+Cres. A pestilence on him! now will he be 
+
+
+mocking: 
+
+
+I shall have such a life! 
+Enter PANDARUS. 
+
+
+Pan. How now, how now! how go maid- 
+enheads? Here, you maid! where’s my 
+cousin Cressid > 
+
+Cres. Go hang yourself, you naughty 
+
+mocking uncle! 
+You bring me to do, and then you flout me 
+too, 
+
+Pan. To do what? to do what? let her say 
+what: what have I brought you to do? 
+
+Cres. Come, come, beshrew your heart! 
+
+you ‘ll ne'er be good, 30 
+Nor suffer others. 
+
+Pan. Ha, ha! Alas, poor wretch! ah, 
+poor capocchia! hast not slept to-night? 
+would he not, a naughty man, let it sleep? a 
+bugbear take him! 
+
+Cres. Did not I tell you? Would he 
+
+were knock’d i’ the head! 
+[Knocking within. 
+
+Who’s that at door? good uncle, go and see. 
+My lord, come you again into my chamber: 
+You smile and mock me, as if I meant 
+
+
+naughtily. 
+Tro. Ha, hal 39 
+Cres. Come, you are deceivea, | think of 
+
+
+[Knocring within. 
+Pray you, come 
+
+
+no such thing. 
+Vow earnestly they knock! 
+
+
+in: 
+I would not for half Troy have you seen here. 
+[Exeunt Troilus and Cressida. 
+
+
+Oo 
+
+
+Pan. Who's there? what’s the matter? 
+will you beat down the door? How now! 
+what’s the matter? 
+
+
+Enter FENEAS. 
+
+
+“Ene, Good morrow, lord, good morrow. 
+Pan, Who's there? my Lord AEneas! By 
+my troth, 
+I knew you not: 
+early ? 
+“Ene. Is not Prince Troilus here? 
+Pan. Here! what should he do here? 50 
+“Ene. Come, he is here, my lord; do not 
+deny him: 
+It doth import him much to speak with me. 
+Pan. Is he here, say you? ‘tis more than 
+I_ know, I'll be sworn: for my own part, b+ 
+came in late. What should he do here? 
+fEne. Who!—nay, then: come, come, 
+you ‘ll do him wrong ere you're ware: you'll 
+be so true to him, to be false to him: do not | 
+you know of him, but yet go fetch him hither; 
+go. 
+
+
+what news with you so 
+
+
+Re-enter TRoILus. 
+
+
+Tro. How now! what’s the matter? 60 
+“Ene. My lord, I scarce have leisure to 
+salute you, 
+
+My matter is so rash: there is at hand 
+
+Paris your brother, and Deiphobus, 
+
+The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor 
+
+Deliver’d to us; and for him forthwith, 
+
+Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour, 
+
+We must giye up to Diomedes’ hand 
+
+The Lady Cressida. 
+
+
+Tro. Is it so concluded? 
+ene. By Priam and the general state of 
+Troy: 
+
+
+They are at hand and ready to effect it. 
+Tro. How my achievements mock me! , 
+I will go meet them: and, my Lord AEneas, — 
+
+
+70 
+
+
+here. 
+“Ene. Good, good, my lord; the secrets 
+of nature _ 
+Have not more gift in taciturnity. k 
+[Exeunt Troilus and Eneass} 
+
+Pan, Is’t possible? no sooner got but lost 
+The devil take Antenor! the young prince 
+will go mad: a plague upon Antenor! I would 
+
+
+they had broke’s neck! __ 
+Re-enter CRESSIDA. 
+
+
+Cres. How now! what’s the matter? why | 
+was here? at 
+
+Pan, Ah, ah! ei 
+
+Cres. Why sigh you so profoundly? — 
+
+
+where 's my lord? gone! Tell me, sweet uncle, 
+what's the matter? iq 
+
+
+Act IV, Se. IV] 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+795 
+
+
+‘ 
+earth as I am above! 
+Cres, O the gods! what’s the matter > 
+: Pan. Prithee, get thee in: would thou 
+_ hadst ne'er been born! I knew thou wouldst 
+be his death. O, poor gentleman! A plague 
+_ upon Antenor! 
+Cres. Good uncle, I beseech you, on my 
+knees I beseech you, what's the matter? 
+My Pan. Thou must be gone, wench, thou 
+_ must be gone; thou art changed for Antenor: 
+thou must to thy father, and: be gone from 
+Troilus: ‘twill be his death; ‘twill be his 
+_ bane; he cannot bear it. 
+¥ Ges, O you immortal gods! I will not go. 
+Pan. Thou must. 101 
+Cres. I will not, uncle: I have forgot my 
+father; 
+| I know no touch of consanguinity; 
+“No om no love, no blood, no soul so near 
+
+
+| aes the. sweet Troilus. O you gods divine! 
+fs Make Cressid’s name the very crown of 
+falsehood, 
+
+
+f ever she leave Troilus! 
+
+
+death, 
+‘Do to this body what extremes you can; 
+But the strong base and building of my love 
+Is as the very centre of the earth, 
+| ee alt things to it. I'll go in and 
+
+
+Time, force, and 
+
+
+110 
+
+
+Cres. Tear my bright hair and scratch my 
+: praised cheeks, 
+C rack my clear voice with sobs and break my 
+ee heart 
+With sounding Troilus. 
+Troy. 
+
+
+I will not go from 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+The same. Street before Pan- 
+
+
+ENE III. 
+, darus’ house. 
+
+
+ver Paris, TRoiLus, ALNEaS, DEIPHOBUS, 
+ANTENOR, and DIOMEDEs. 
+
+
+- Par, It is great morning, and the hour 
+___ prefix'd 
+
+Of her delivery to this valiant Greek 
+
+Comes fast upon. Good my brother Troilus, 
+Pell you the lady what she is to do, 
+
+And haste her to the purpose. 
+
+
+Think it an altar, and thy brother Troilus 
+A priest there offering to it his own heart. 
+[Exit. 
+DP ar, I know what ’tis to love; 
+
+And would, as I shall pity, I could help! 
+sase you walk in, my lords. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+‘Pan. Would I were as deep under the| Scene IV. The same. 
+
+
+Pandarus’ house. 
+Enter PANDARUS and CRESSIDA. 
+
+
+Pan. Be moderate, be moderate. 
+
+Cres. Why tell you me of moderation? 
+The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste, 
+And violenteth in a sense as strong 
+As that which causeth it: how can I mod- 
+
+erate it? 
+If I could temporise with my affection, 
+Or brew it to a weak and colder palate, 
+The like allayment could I give my grief: 
+My love admits no qualifying dross; 
+No more my grief, in such a precious loss. 10 
+
+Pan. Here, here, here he comes. 
+
+
+Enter TRottus. 
+
+
+Ah, sweet ducks! 
+Cres. O Troilus! Troilus! 
+[Embracing him. 
+Pan. What a pair of spectacles is here! 
+Let me embrace too, ‘O heart,’ as the goodly 
+saying 1s, 
+
+
+O heart, heavy heart, 
+Why sigh’st thou without breaking?" 
+where he answers again, 
+‘Because thou canst not ease thy smart 20 
+By friendship nor by speaking.’ 
+There was never a truer rhyme. Let us cast 
+away nothing, for we may live to have need 
+of such a verse: we see it, we see it. How 
+now, lambs? 
+
+
+Tro. Cressid, I love thee in so strain'd a 
+purity, 
+
+That the Hldssil gods, as angry with my 
+fancy, 
+
+
+More bright in zeal than the devotion which 
+Cold lips blow to their deities, take thee from 
+me. 
+Cres. Have the gods envy? 34, 
+Pan, Ay, ay, ay, ay; ‘tis too plain a case, 
+
+
+Cres. And is it true that I must go fron 
+Troy ? 
+
+Tro. A hateful truth. 
+
+Cres. What, and from Troilus too# 
+
+- Tro. From Troy and Troilus. 
+
+Cres. Is it possible? 
+
+Tro. And suddenly; where injury of 
+chance 
+
+
+Our lock’d gait hte strangles our dear 
+vows 
+Even in the birth of our own labouring 
+
+
+breath: 
+
+
+10 | We two, that with so many thousand sighs 4¥ 
+
+
+Did buy each other, must poorly sell ours 
+selves 
+
+
+796 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc. IV 
+
+
+With the rude brevity and discharge of one. 
+
+Injurious time now with a robber’s haste 
+
+Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not 
+how: Z 
+
+As many farewells as be stars in heaven, 
+
+With distinct breath and consign’d kisses to 
+them, 
+
+He fumbles up into a loose adieu, 
+
+And scants us with a single famish’d kiss, 
+
+Distasted with the salt of broken tears. 50 
+
+
+Ene. [Within] My lord, is the lady 
+ready ? 
+
+Tro. Hark! you are call'’d: some say the 
+Genius so 
+
+
+Cries ‘come’ to him that instantly must die. 
+Bid them have patience; she shall come 
+anon. 
+Pan. Where are my tears? rain, to lay 
+this wind, or my heart will be blown up by 
+
+
+the root. [Exit. 
+Cres. I must then to the Grecians? 
+Tro. No remedy. 
+
+
+Cres. A woful Cressid 'mongst the merry 
+Greeks! 
+When shall we see again? 
+Tro. Hear me, my love: be thou but true 
+
+
+of heart,— 
+
+Cres. I true! how now! what wicked deem 
+is this? 
+
+Tro. Nay, we must use expostulation 
+kindly, 
+
+
+For it is parting from us: 
+I speak not ‘be thou true,’ as fearing thee, 
+For I will throw my glove to Death himself, 
+That there's no maculation in thy heart: 
+But ‘be thou true,’ say I, to fashion in 
+My sequent protestation ; be thou true, 
+And I will see thee. 
+Cres. O, you shall be exposed, my lord, 
+to dangers : 70 
+As infinite as imminent! but I ‘Il be true. 
+Tro. And I'll grow friend with danger. 
+Wear this sleeve. 
+Cres. And you this glove. When shall I 
+see you? 
+Tro. 1 will corrupt the Grecian sentinels, 
+To give thee nightly visitation. 
+But yet be true. 
+Cres. O heavens! ‘be true’ again! 
+Tro. Hear why I speak it, love: 
+The Grecian youths are full of quality; 
+They ‘re loving, well composed with gifts of 
+nature, 
+Flowing and swelling o'er with arts and ex- 
+ercise: 
+How novelty may move, and parts with per- 
+
+
+son, 
+Alas, a kind of godly jealousy— 
+
+
+Which, I beseech you, call a virtueus sin— ! As 
+
+
+Makes me afeard. 
+Cres, O heavens! you love me not. 
+Tro. Die I a villain, then! 
+In this I do not call your faith in question 
+So mainly as my merit: I cannot sing, 
+Nor heel the high lavolt, nor sweeten talk, 
+Nor play at subtle games; fair virtues all, 
+To which the Grecians are most prompt and 
+pregnant: 
+But I can tell that in each grace of these 
+There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil 
+That tempts most cunningly: but be not 
+tempted. 
+Cres. Do you think | will? 
+Tro. No. 
+But something may be done that we will not: 
+And sometimes we are devils to ourselves, 
+When we will tempt the frailty of our powers, 
+Presuming on their changeful potency. 
+Ene. [Within] Nay, good my lord,— 
+Tro. Come, kiss; and let us part. 100 
+Par, [Within] Brother Troilus! 
+Tro. Good brother, come you hither; 
+And bring /Eneas and the Grecian with you. 
+Cres. My lord, will you be true? 
+
+
+Tro. Who, I? alas, it is my vice, my fault: 
+
+
+Whiles others fish with craft for great opinion, 
+
+I with great truth catch mere simplicity; 
+
+Whilst some with cunning gild their copper 
+crowns, 
+
+With truth and plainness I do wear mine 
+bare. 
+
+Fear not my truth:.the moral of my wit 
+
+Is ‘plain and true; there’s all the reach of 
+It. 
+
+
+Enter FL.NEAS, Paris, ANTENOR, DEIPHOBUS, 
+and DIOMEDEs. 
+
+
+Welcome, Sir Diomed! here is the lady 
+Which for Antenor we deliver you: 
+
+
+WI 
+
+
+At the port, lord, I'll give her to thy hand; — 
+
+
+And by the way possess thee what she is. 
+Entreat her fair; and, by my soul, fair Greek, 
+If e’er thou stand at mercy of my sword, 
+
+
+Name Cressid, and thy life shall be as safe 
+
+
+As Priam is in Ilion. 
+Dio. Fair Lady Cressid, 
+
+
+So please you, save the thanks this prince 
+
+
+expects: 
+The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek, 
+Pleads your fair usage; and to Diomed 121 
+You shall be mistress, and command him 
+wholly. 
+Tro. Grecian, thou dost not use me cour- 
+teously, 
+To shame the zeal of my petition to thee 
+
+
+In praising her: I tell thee, lord of Greece, 
+
+
+She is as far high-soaring o’er thy praises 
+thou unworthy to be call'd her servant. 
+
+
+se 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. V] 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+797 
+
+
+I charge thee use her well, even for my 
+
+
+charge; 
+For, by the dreadful Pluto, if thou dost not, 
+Though the great bulk Achilles be thy guard, 
+I'll cut thy throat. 
+Dio. O, be not moved, Prince Troilus: 
+Let me be privileged by my place and mes- 
+sage, 
+
+To be a speaker free; when I am hence, 
+I'll answer to my lust: and know you, lord, 
+I'll nothing do on charge: to her own worth 
+She shall. be prized; sol that you say ‘be’t 
+
+so,” 
+‘I'll speak it in my baa and honour, ‘no.’ 
+
+Tro. Come, to the port. I'll tell thee, 
+2 Diomed, 
+
+This brave shall oft make thee to hide they 
+head. 
+“Lady, give me your hand, and, as we walk, 
+To our own selves bend we our needful talk. 
+[Exeunt Troilus, Cressida, and Diomedes. 
+[Trumpet within. 
+
+Par. Hark! Hector’s trumpet. 
+
+“Ene. _ Hew have we spent this morning! 
+The prince must think me tardy and remiss, 
+That swore to ride before him to the field. 
+
+Par. "Tis Troilus’ fault: come, come, to 
+
+
+field with him. 
+
+
+_ Dei. Let us make ready straight. 
+_ Ene. Yea, with a bridegroom's fresh 
+alacrity, 
+
+
+Let us address to tend on Hector’s heels: 
+The glory of our Troy doth this day lie 149 
+On his fair worth and single chivalry. 
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+SCENE V. The Grecian camp. Lists set out. 
+
+BEnter Ajax, armed; AGAMEMNON, ACHIL- 
+
+
+_ LEs, Patroctus, MENeELaus. ULyssEs, 
+Nestor, and others. 
+Agam. Here art thou in appointment 
+
+
+fresh and fair, 
+’ Anticipating time with starting courage. 
+Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy, 
+_ Thou dreadful Ajax; that the appalled air 
+“May pierce the head of the great combatant 
+_ And hale him thither. 
+Ajax. Thou, trumpet, there ’s my purse, 
+Now crack thy lungs, and split thy brazen 
+pipe: 
+Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias cheek 
+Outswell the colic of puft'd Aquilon: 
+Come, stretch thy chest, and let thy eyes 
+spout blood; 10 
+Thou blow’st for Hector. 
+Ulyss. No trumpet answers. 
+Achil. Tis but early days. 
+Agam. Is not yond Diomed, with Calchas’ 
+daughter > 
+
+
+i_ 
+2 
+
+
+[Trumpet sounds. 
+
+
+Ulyss. 
+gait; 
+
+He rises on the toe: that spirit of his 
+In aspiration lifts him from the earth. 
+
+
+"Tis he, I ken the manner of his 
+
+
+Enter DiomEDEs with CRESSIDA. 
+
+
+Agam. Is this the Lady Cressid? 
+Dio. Even she. 
+
+
+. Agam. Most dearly welcome to the Greeks, 
+
+
+sweet lady. 
+Nest. Our general doth salute you with a 
+kiss. 
+Ulyss. Yet is the kindness but particular; 
+*Twere better she were. kiss'd in general. 21 
+Nest. And very courtly counsel: I ‘ll begin. 
+So much for Nestor. 
+Achil, 1'll take that winter from your lips, 
+fair lady: 
+Achilles bids you welcome. 
+
+
+Men. | had good argument for kissing 
+once. 
+
+Patr. But that’s no argument for kissing 
+now; 
+
+
+For thus popp’d Paris in his hardiment, 
+And parted thus you and your argument. 
+Ulyss. O deadly gall, and theme of all our 
+scorns! 30 
+For which we lose our heads to gild his horns. 
+Pair. The first was Menelaus’ kiss; this, 
+mine: 
+Patroclus kisses you. 
+
+
+en. 
+Patr. Paris and I kiss evermore for him. 
+Men. I'll have my kiss, sir. Lady, by 
+
+
+your leave. 
+
+
+O, this is trim! 
+
+
+Cres. In kissing, do you render or receive? 
+Patr. Both take and give. 
+Cres. Ill make my match to live, 
+
+
+The kiss you take is better than you give; 
+Therefore no kiss. 
+Men. I'll give you boot, 
+three for one. 
+Cres. You're an odd man; give even, or 
+give none. 
+
+
+Men. An odd man, 
+‘No, 
+
+
+I'll give you 
+40 
+
+
+lady! every man is 
+
+Paris is not; for you know ‘tis 
+AFae 
+
+That you are odd, and he is even with you, 
+
+
+Men. You fillip me o' the head. 
+
+Cres. No, I ‘Il be sworn. 
+
+Ulyss. It were no match, your nail against 
+his horn, 
+
+May I, sweet lady, beg a kiss of you? 
+
+Cres. You may. 
+
+Ulyss. I do desire it. 
+
+Cres. Why, beg, then. 
+
+Ulyss. Why then for Venus’ sake, give 
+me a kiss. 
+
+
+798 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+yy 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc. V 
+
+
+When Helen is a maid again, and his. 50 
+Cres, I am your debtor, claim it when ‘tis 
+due. 
+Ulyss, Never's my day, and then a kis 
+of you. 
+Dio. Lady, a word: I'll bring you to your 
+father. [Exit with Cressida. 
+
+
+Nest. A woman of quick sense. 
+
+
+Ulyss. Fie, fie upon her! 
+
+There 's language in her eye, her cheek, her 
+lip, 
+
+Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look 
+out 
+
+
+At every joint and motive of her body. 
+
+O, these encounterers, so glib of tongue, 
+That give accosting welcome ere it comes, 
+And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts 
+
+
+To every ticklish reader! set them down 61 
+
+
+For sluttish spoils of opportunity 
+
+And daughters of the game. [Trumpet within. 
+All, The Trojans’ trumpet. 
+Agam. Yonder comes the troop. 
+
+
+Enter Hecror, armed; AZNEAS, TROILUS, 
+and other Trojans, with Attendants. 
+
+
+Ene. Hail, all you state of Greece! what 
+shall be done 
+To him that victory commands? or do you 
+purpose 
+A victor shall be known? will you the knights 
+Shall to the edge of all extremity 
+Pursue each other, or shall be divided 
+By any voice or order of the field, 
+Hector bade ask. 
+Agam. Which way would Hector have it? 
+fine. He cares not; he'll obey condi- 
+tions, 
+Achil. ’Tis done like Hector; but securely 
+done, 
+A little proudly, and great deal misprizing 
+The knight opposed. 
+ne. If not Achilles, sir, 
+What is your name? 
+Achil. If not Achilles, nothing. 
+fEne. Therefore Achilles: but, whate’er, 
+know this: 
+In the extremity of great and little, 
+Valour and pride excel themselves in Hector; 
+The one almost as infinite as all, 80 
+The other blank as nothing. Weigh him well, 
+And that which looks like pride is courtesy. 
+This Ajax is half made of Hector’s blood: 
+In love whereof, half Hector stays at home; 
+
+
+‘Half heart, half hand, half Hector comes to 
+
+
+70 
+
+
+seek 
+This blended knight, half Trojan and half 
+Greek. 
+Achil. A maiden battle, then? O, I per- 
+ceive you. 
+
+
+Re-enter DioMEDES, 
+
+
+Agam. Here is Sir Diomed. Go, gentle 
+knight, 2 
+Stand by our Ajax: as you and Lord /Eneas. 
+Consent upon the order of their fight, 90 
+
+So be it; either to the uttermost, 4 
+Or else a breath: the combatants being kin 
+Half stints their strife before their strokes 
+begin. [Ajax and Hector enter the lists. 
+Ulyss. They are opposed already. 
+Agam. What Trojan is that same that 
+looks so heavy? ; 
+Agam. The youngest son of Priam, a true 
+knight, mH | 
+Not yet mature, yet matchless, firm of word, 
+Speaking in deeds and deedless in his tongue; 
+Not soon provoked nor being provoked soon 
+calm'd; 
+His heart and hand both open and both free; 
+For what he has he gives, what thinks he 
+shows; 101. 
+Yet gives he not till judgement guide his 
+bounty, 
+Nor dignifies an impair thought with breath; 
+Manly as Hector, but more dangerous; 
+For Hector in his blaze of wrath subscribes 
+To tender objects, but he in heat of action 
+Is more vindicative than jealous love: 
+They call him Troilus, and on him erect 
+A second hope, as fairly built as Hector, 
+Thus says /Eneas; one that knows the youth 
+Even to hif inches, and with private soul 111 
+Did in great Ilion thus translate him to me. 
+[Alarum. Hector and Ajax fight. 
+Agam. They are in action. ’ 
+Nest. How, Ajax, hold thine own! 
+Tro. Hector, thou sleep’st; 
+Awake thee! 
+Agam. His blows are well disposed: there, 
+Ajax! 
+Dio. You must no more. [Trumpets cease. , 
+fEne. Princes, enough, so please you, 
+Ajax. I am not warm yet; let us fight 
+again. 
+Dio. As Hector pleases. i 
+Hect. Why, then will I no more: 
+Thou art, great lord, my father’s sister’s son, 
+A cousin-german to great Priam’s seed; 121 
+The obligation of our blood forbids 
+A gory emulation "twixt us twain: 
+Were thy commixtion Greek and Trojan so 
+That thou couldst say “This hand is Grecian 
+all, 
+And this is Trojan; the sinews of this leg 
+All Greek, and this all Troy; my mother's 
+blood 
+Runs on the dexter cheek, and this sinister 
+Bounds in my father’s;” by jove multipotent, 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+aay AV, ‘Sc. V] 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+799 
+
+
+Thou shouldst not bear from me a Greekish 
+member 130 
+erein my sword had not impressure made 
+Of our rank feud: but the just gods gain- 
+
+
+Bm” say 
+
+That any drop thou borrow’dst from thy 
+: mother, 
+
+My sacred aunt, should by my mortal sword 
+Be drain’d! Let me embrace thee, Ajax: 
+By him that thunders, thou hast lusty arms; 
+Hector would have them fall upon him thus: 
+Cousin, all honour to thee! 
+
+‘ Ajax. I thank thee, Hector: 
+_ Thou art too gentle and too free a man: 
+
+yl came to kill thee, cousin, and bear hence 140 
+
+‘A great addition earned in thy death. 
+
+e Hect, Not Neoptolemus so mirable, 
+-> whose bright crest Fame with her loud’st 
+‘ Oyes 
+Cries “This is he,’ could promise to himself 
+A thought of added honour torn from Hector. 
+_ “Ene, There is expectance here from both 
+
+the sides, 
+~ What further you will do. 
+m= Hect, We'll answer it; 
+The issue is embracement: Ajax, farewell. 
+_ Ajax. If I might in entreaties find suc- 
+>. -cess— 
+z As seld I have the chance—I would desire 150 
+
+My famous cousin to. our Grecian tents. 
+
+_ Dio. *Tis Agamemnon’s wish, and great 
+Achilles 
+
+Doth long to see unarm’d the valiant Hector. 
+
+_ Hect, FEmeas, call my brother Troilus to 
+
+me, 
+
+And signify this loving interview 
+
+o the expecters of our Trojan part; 
+
+Desire them home. Give me thy hand, my 
+
+cousin; 
+
+I will go eat with thee and see your knights. 
+
+_ Ajax, Great Agamemnon comes to meet 
+
+
+prt 
+
+
+Byu..8 heres <4: 
+ Hect. The worthiest of them tell me name 
+by name; 160 
+
+
+But for Achilles, mine own searching eyes 
+
+‘Shall find him by his large and portly size. 
+
+_ Agam. Worthy of arms! as welcome as to 
+one 
+
+at would be rid of such an enemy; 
+
+But that’s no welcome: understand more 
+
+! clear, | 
+
+What's Pasi and what’s to come is strew’d 
+
+f with husks 
+
+And formless ruin of oblivion; 
+
+But in this extant moment, faith and troth, 
+
+Strain’d purely from all hollow bias-drawing, 
+
+Bids thee, with most divine integrity, 170 
+
+From heart of very heart, great Hector, wel- 
+
+come. 
+
+
+Hect. | thank thee, most imperious Aga 
+memnon, 
+
+Agam. [To Troilus] My well-famed lord 
+of Troy, no less to you. 
+
+Men. Let me confirm my princely brather’y 
+
+
+greeting: 
+You brace of warlike brothers, welcome 
+hither. 
+Hect. Who must we answer? 
+
+
+fEne, The noble Menelaus. 
+Hect. O, you, my lord? by Mars his 
+gauntlet, thanks! 
+Mock not, that I affect the untraded oath; 
+
+
+Your quondam wife swears still by Wenus® 
+
+
+glove: 
+She ’s well, but bade me not commend her te 
+you. 186 
+Men. Name her not now, sir; she's a 
+deadly theme. 
+
+
+Hect. O, pardon; I offend. 
+Nest. I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen 
+thee oft 
+
+
+Labouring for destiny make cruel way 
+
+Through ranks of Greekish youth, and I have 
+seen thee, 
+
+As hot as Perseus, spur thy Phrygian steed, 
+
+Despising many forfeits and subduements, 
+
+When thou hast hung thy advanced sword i 
+the air, 
+
+Not letting it decline on the declined, 
+
+That I have said to some my standers by 196 
+
+‘Lo, Jupiter is yonder, dealing life!’ 
+
+And I have seen thee pause and take thy 
+breath, 
+
+When that a ring of Greeks have hemm'd 
+thee in, 
+
+Like an Olympian wrestling: this have I seem; 
+
+But this thy countenance, still lock’d in stcel, 
+
+I never saw till now. I knew thy grandsive, 
+
+And once fought with him: he was a sol. 
+dier good; 
+
+But, by great Mars, the captain of us all, 
+
+Never like thee. Let an old man embrace 
+thee; 
+
+
+.And, worthy warrior, welcome to our tents. 200 
+
+
+“Ene. "Tis the old Nestor. 
+
+Hect. Let me embrace thee, good old chre-. 
+That has so. long walk’d handsinl \hendbwith 
+Most srenntld Netion cL tien alee 
+
+i bori ek eat ylaltealpses rl 
+
+
+in contention, 
+As they contend with thee in courtesy. 
+Hect. I would they could. 
+Nest. Ha! 
+By this white beard, I ‘Id fight with thee tes 
+
+
+morrow. 
+
+
+800 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Se. V 
+
+
+Well, welcome, welcome!—I have seen the 
+time. 21 
+Ulyss. 
+stands 
+When we have her base and pillar by us. 
+Hect. I know your favour, Lord Ulysses, 
+well. 
+Ah, sir, there 's many a Gicek and Trojan dead, 
+Since I first saw yourself and Diomed 
+In Ilion, on your Greekish embassy. 
+Ulyss. Sir, I foretold you then what would 
+ensue: 
+My prophecy is but half his journey yet; 
+For yonder walls, that pertly front your town, 
+Yond towers, whose wanton tops do buss the 
+
+
+I wonder now how yonder city 
+
+
+clouds, 220 
+Must kiss their own feet. 
+ect. I must not believe you: 
+
+
+There they stand yet, and modestly I think, 
+The fall of every Phrygian stone will cost 
+A drop of Grecian blood: the end crowns all, 
+And that old common arbitrator, Time, 
+Will one day end it. 
+
+Ulyss. So to him we leave it. 
+Most gentle and most valiant Hector, wel- 
+
+
+come: 
+After the general, I beseech you next 
+To feast with me and see me at my tent. 
+
+Achil. I shall forestall thee, Lord Ulysses, 
+
+thou! 230 
+Now, Hector, I have fed mine eyes on thee; 
+I have with exact view perused thee, Hector, 
+And ae joint by joint. 
+Is this Achilles? 
+
+-I am Achilles. 
+Hect, Stand fair, I pray thee: let me look 
+
+
+on thee. 
+Achil. Behold thy fill. 
+ect. Nay, I have done already. 
+Achil. Thou art too brief: I will the 
+second time, 
+As I would buy thee, view thee limb by limb. 
+Hect, O, like a book of sport thou ‘It read 
+me o'er; 
+But there's more in me than thou under- 
+stand'st. 24 
+Why dost thou so oppress me with thine eye? 
+Achil. Tell me, you heavens, in which part 
+of his body 
+Shall I destroy him? whether there, or there, 
+or there? 
+That I may give the local wound a name 
+And make distinct the very breach’ whereout 
+Hector’s great spirit lew: answer me, heavens! 
+' Hect. It would discredit the blest gods, 
+proud man, 
+To answer such a question: stand again: 
+‘Think’st thou to catch my life so pleasantly 
+As to prenominate in nice conjecture 250 
+
+
+Where thou wilt hit me dead? 
+chil. I tell thee, yea. 
+Hect. Wert thou an oracle to tell me so, 
+
+
+I'll not believe thee. Henceforth guard thee 
+well; 
+
+For I'll not kill thee there, nor, there, nor 
+there; 
+
+
+But, by the forge that stithied Mars his helm, 
+I'll kill thee every where, yea, o'er and o’er. 
+You wisest Grecians, pardon me this brag; 
+His insolence draws folly from my lips; 
+
+But I "Il endeavour deeds to match these words, 
+Or may I never— 
+
+Ajax. Do not chafe thee, cousin: 260 
+And you, Achilles, let these threats alone, 
+Till accident or purpose bring you tot: 
+You may have every day enough of Hector, 
+If you have stomach; the general state, | fear, 
+Can scarce entreat you to be odd with him. | 
+
+Hect. I pray you, let us see you in the 
+
+ld: 
+
+
+eld: 
+We have had pelting wars, since you refused 
+The Grecians’ cause. 
+chil. Dost thou entreat me, Hector? 
+To-morrow do I meet thee, fell as death; 
+To-night all friends. 
+Hect. Thy hand upon that match. 270 
+Agam. First, all you peers of Greece, go 
+to my tent; 
+There in the full convive we: afterwards, 
+As Hector’s leisure and your bounties shall 
+Concur together, severally entreat him. 
+Beat loud the tabourines, let the trumpets blow, 
+That this great soldier may his welcome know, 
+[Exeunt all except Troilus and Ulysses. 
+hese hed Lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech 
+
+
+In what place of the field doth Calchas keep? 
+Ulyss. At Menelaus’ tent, most princely 
+Troilus: 
+There Diomed doth feast with him to-night; 
+Who neither looks upon the heaven nor earth, , 
+But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view 
+On the fair Cressid. 
+Tro. Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to you 
+so much, 
+After we part from Agamemnon’s tent, 
+To bring me thither ? 
+Ulyss. You shall command me, sir, 
+As gentle tell me, of what honour was 
+This Cressida in Troy? Had she no lover 
+there 
+That wails her. absence? 
+Tro. O, sir, to such as boasting show their 
+scars 
+A mock is due. Will you walk on, my lord? 
+She was beloved, she loved; she is, and doth: 
+But still sweet love is food for fortune’s tooth. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+. Vives 1} 
+
+
+t 
+
+
++ 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+801 
+
+
+ACT V. 
+
+
+Scene I. The Grecian camp. Before Achilles’ 
+
+
+tent. 
+Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS. 
+
+
+Achil. I'll heat his blood with Greekish 
+wine to-night 
+Which with my scimitar I ‘Il cool to-morrow. 
+Patroclus, let us feast him to the height. 
+Patr. Here comes Thersites. 
+
+
+Enter THERSITES. 
+
+
+Achil. How now, thou core of envy! 
+Thou crusty batch of nature, what's the news? 
+
+Ther. Why, thou picture of what thou 
+seemest, and idol of idiot-worshippers, here 's 
+a letter for thee. : 
+
+Achil. From whence, fragment? 
+
+Ther. Why, thou full dish of fool, from 
+how roy. 
+
+’ Patr. Who keeps the tent now? a 
+
+Ther. The surgeon’s box, or the patient's 
+wound. 
+
+Pair. Well said, adversity! and what need 
+these tricks? 
+
+Ther. Prithee, be silent, boy; I profit not 
+by thy talk: thou art thought to be Achilles’ 
+male varlet. 
+
+Pair. Male varlet, you rogue! what's that? 
+
+Ther. Why, his masculine whore. Now, 
+the rotten diseases of the south, the guts- 
+griping, ruptures, catarrhs, loads o’ gravel i’ 
+
+
+” the back, lethargies, cold palsies, raw eyes, 
+
+
+dirt-rotten livers, wheezing lungs, bladders full 
+
+
+of imposthume, ‘sciaticas, limekilns i’ the palm, 
+~ incurable bone-ache, and the rivelled fee-sim- 
+
+
+ple of the tetter, take and take again such 
+preposterous discoveries! 
+
+Pair. Why, thou damnable box of envy, 
+thou, what meanest thou to curse thus? 30 
+
+Ther. Do I curse thee? 
+
+Pair. Why, no, you ruinous butt, you 
+
+
+__whoreson indistinguishable cur, no. 
+
+
+Ther. No! why art thou then exasperate, 
+thou idle immaterial skein of sleave-silk, thou 
+
+
+green sarcenet flap for a sore eye, thou tassel: 
+
+
+of a prodigal’s purse, thou? Ah, how the 
+poor world is pestered with such waterflies, 
+diminutives of nature! 
+Patr. Out, gall! 40 
+Ther. Finch-egg! 
+Achil,, My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted 
+quite 
+From my great purpose in to-morrow’s battle. 
+Here is a letter from Queen Hecuba, 
+A token from her daughter, my fair love, 
+Both taxing me and gaging me to keep 
+An oath that I have sworn. I will not break 
+it: 
+
+
+- Fall Greeks: fail fame; honour or go or stay; 
+
+
+My major vow lies here, this I ‘ll obey. 
+Come, come, Thersites, help to trim my tent: 
+This night in banqueting must all be spent. 51 
+Away, Patroclus! 
+[Exeunt Achilles and Patroclus. 
+
+Ther. With too much blood and too little 
+brain, these two may run mad; but, if with 
+too much brain and too little blood they do, 
+I ‘ll be a curer of madmen. Here's Agamem- 
+non, an honest fellow enough, and one that 
+loves quails; but he has not so much brain 
+as ear-wax: and the goodly transformation of 
+Jupiter there, his brother, the bull,—the primi- 
+tive statue, and oblique memorial of cuckolds; 
+a thrifty shoeing-horn in a chain, hanging at 
+his brother’s leg,—to what form but that he is, 
+should wit larded with malice and malice 
+forced with wit turn him to? To an ass, were 
+nothing; he is both ox and ass. To be a dog, 
+a mule, a cat, a fitchew, a toad, a lizard, an 
+owl, a puttock, or a herring without a roe, I 
+would not care; but to be Menelaus! I 
+would conspire against destiny. Ask me not 
+what I would be, if I were not Thersites; for 
+I care not to be the louse of a lazar, so I 
+were not Menelaus. Hoy-day! spirits and 
+fires! 
+
+
+Enter Hecror, Troitus, Ajax, AGAMEM- 
+NON, ULtysses, Nestor, MENELAUS, and 
+DiomepEs, with lights. 
+
+
+Agam. We go wrong, we go wrong. 
+
+
+Ajax. No, yonder ‘tis; 
+There, where we see the lights. 
+Hect. I trouble you. 
+
+
+Ajax. No, not a whit. 
+Ulyss. Here comes himself to guide you. 
+
+
+Re-enter ACHILLES. 
+
+
+Achil. Welcome, brave Hector; welcome, 
+princes all. 
+Agam. So now, fair Prince of Troy, I bid 
+good night. 
+Ajax commands the guard to tend on you. 
+Hect. Thanks and good night to the Greeks’ 
+general. 80 
+Men. Good night, my lord. 
+Hect. Good night, sweet Lord Menelaus. 
+Ther. Sweet draught: ‘sweet’ quoth a’! 
+sweet sink, sweet sewer. 
+Achil. Good night and welcome, both at 
+once, to those 
+That go or tarry. 
+Agam. Good night. 
+[Exeunt Agamemnon and Menelaus. 
+Achil. Old Nestor tarries; and you too, 
+Diomed, 
+Keep Hector company an hour or two. 
+Dio. I cannot, lord; I have important busi- 
+ness- 
+
+
+802 
+
+
+The tide whereof is now. Good mish Bem 
+Hector. 90 
+Hect. Give me your hand. 
+Ulyss, [Aside to Troilus] Follow his torch; 
+he goes to Calchas’ tent: 
+I'll keep you company. 
+Tro. Sweet sir, you honour me. 
+
+
+Hect. And so, good night. 
+[Exit Diomedes; Ulysses and 
+Troilus following. 
+Achil. Come, come, enter my tent. 
+
+
+{Exeunt Achilles, Hector, Ajax, and Nestor. 
+
+Ther. That same Diomed's a false-hearted 
+rogue, a most unjust knave; I will no more 
+trust him when he leers than I will a serpent 
+when he hisses: he will spend his mouth, and 
+promise, like Brabbler the hound; but when 
+he performs, astronomers foretell it; it is pro- 
+digious, there will come some change; the sun 
+borrows of the moon, when Diomed keeps his 
+word. I will rather leave to see Hector, than 
+not to dog him: they say he keeps a Trojan 
+drab, and uses the traitor Calchas’ tent: I ‘ll 
+after. Nothing but lechery! all incontinent 
+varlets! [Exit. 
+
+
+Scene II. The same. Before Calchas’ tent. 
+Enter DioMeEDEs. 
+What, are you up here, ho? speak. 
+Cal. [Within] Who calls? 
+Dio. Diomed. Calchas, I think. Where 's 
+your daughter? 
+Cal. [Within] She comes to you. 
+Enter Troitus and UtysseEs, at a distance; 
+after them, THERSITES, 
+
+
+Ulyss. Stand where the torch may not dis- 
+cover us, 
+
+
+Enter CressipA. 
+
+
+Cressid comes forth to him. 
+Dio. How now, my charge! 
+Cres. Now, my sweet guardian! Hark, a 
+word with you. [Whispers. 
+Tro. Yea, so familiar! 
+Ulyss. She will sing any man at first sight. 
+Ther. And any man may sing her, if he 
+ean take her cliff; she’s noted. im 
+Dio. Will you remember? 
+Cres. Remember! yes. 
+Dio. Nay, but do, then; 
+And let your mind be coupled with your 
+words, 
+Tro. What should she remember > 
+Ulyss. List. 
+Cres. Sweet honey Greek, tempt me no 
+more to folly. 
+Ther. Roguery! 
+Dio. Nay, then— | 
+Cres. I'll tell you what— 
+
+
+Dio. 
+
+
+Tro. 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+NS 
+
+
+[Acr V, Sc. II 
+
+
+Dio. Foh, foh! come, tell a pin: you are — 
+forsworn, 
+Cres. In faith, I cannot: what would you 
+
+
+have me do? 
+
+
+Ther. A juggling trick,—to be secretly 
+open. 
+Dio. What did you swear you would be- 
+
+
+stow on me? 
+
+
+Cres. I prithee, do not hold me to mine 
+oath; 
+Bid me do any thing but that, sweet Greek. 
+Dio. Good night. 
+Tro. Hold, patience! 
+
+
+Ulyss. 
+Cres. 
+Dio. 
+no more. 
+Tro. Thy better must. 
+Cres. Hark, one word in your ear. 
+Tro. O plague and madness! 
+Ulyss. You are moved, prince; let us de- 
+part, I pray you, 
+Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself 
+To wrathful terms: this place is dangerous; 
+The time right deadly; I beseech you, go. 
+Tro. Behold, I pray you! 
+Ulyss. Nay, good my lord, go off: 
+You flow to great distraction; come, my lord. 
+
+
+How now, Trojan? 
+
+
+Diomed,— 
+
+
+Tro. I pray thee, stay. 
+Ulyss. You have not patience; come. 
+Tro. I pray you, stay; by hell and all hell's 
+torments, 
+I will not speak a word! 
+Dio. And so, good night. 
+Cres. Nay, but you part in anger. 
+
+
+Tro. 
+
+O wither’d truth! 
+Ulyss. 
+
+ro. 
+
+I will be patient. 
+Cres. Guardian!—why, Greek! 
+Dio. Foh, foh! adieu; you alter. 
+
+Cres. In faith I do not: come hither once 
+
+
+again. 
+Ulyss. You shake, my lord, at something: 
+
+will you go? 5 
+You will break out. 
+
+
+Why, how now, lord! 
+By Jove, 
+
+
+Tro. She strokes his cheek! 
+
+Ulyss. Come, come. 
+
+Tro. Nay, sfay; by Jove, I will not speak 
+a word: 
+
+
+There is between my will and all offences - 
+A guard of patience: stay a little while. 
+
+Ther. How the devil Luxury, with his fat 
+rump and potato-finger, tickles these together! 
+Fry, lechery, fry! 
+
+
+Dio. But will you, then? 
+Cres. In faith, I will, la; never trust me 
+else. 
+
+
+No, no, good night: I ‘ll be your foo!’ 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+Doth that grieve thee? _ 
+
+
+Acts Sc, 1 
+
+
+Dio. 
+of it. 
+Cres. I'll fetch you one. 
+Ulyss, You have sworn patience. 
+Tro. Fear me not, sweet lord; 
+I will not be myself, nor have cognition 
+Of what I feel: I am all patience. 
+
+
+Re-enter CRESSIDA. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+
+
+Ther. Now the pledge; now, now, now! 
+Cres. Here, Diomed, keep this sleeve. 
+. O beauty! where is thy faith? 
+My lord,— 
+. I will be patient; outwardly I will. 
+stew You look upon that sleeve; behold it 
+well. 
+He loved me—O false wench!—Give t me 
+again. 
+\_ Dio. Whose was ’t? 71 
+“ Cres. It is no matter, now | have 't again. 
+_ 2 will not meet with you to-morrow night: 
+J prithee, Diomed, visit me no more. 
+Ther. Now she sharpens: well said, whet- 
+
+
+stone! 
+Dio. I shall have it. 
+Cres. What, this? 
+Dio. : Ay, that. 
+Cres. O, all you gods! O pretty, pretty 
+pledge! é 
+
+
+_ Thy master now lies thinking in his bed 
+
+BOF thee and me, and sighs, and takes my 
+glove, 
+
+- And gives memorial dainty kisses to it, 80 
+
+B As, I kiss thee. Nay, do not snatch it from 
+me; 
+
+He that takes that doth take my heart withal. 
+
+Dio. I had your heart before, this follows 
+
+it. 
+
+Tro. I did swear patience. 
+
+Cres. You shall not have it, Diomed; faith, 
+; you shall not; 
+
+i pi "Il give you Bomething else. 
+
+Dio. 1 will have this: whose was it? 
+
+Cres. It is no matter. 
+
+Dio. Come, tell me whose it was. 
+
+Cres. "Twas one’s that loved me better 
+
+than you will. 
+But, now you have it, take it. 
+
+Dio. Whose was it? 90 
+Cres. By all Diana’s waiting-women yond, 
+_ And by, herself, I will not tell you whose. 
+Dio. To-morrow will I wear it on my helm, 
+_ And grieve his spirit that dares not challenge 
+
+
+Wert thou the devil, and worest it on 
+: thy horn, 
+
+It reg be challenged. 
+e'Cres, Well, well, ‘tis done, 
+
+
+yet it is net: 
+
+
+‘tis past: and 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+803 
+
+
+Give me some token for the surety | I will not keep my word. 
+
+
+Dio. Why, then, farewell; 
+Thou never shalt mock Diomed again. 
+Cres. You shall not go: one cannot speak 
+a word 100 
+But it straight starts you. 
+Dio. { do not like this fooling, 
+Ther. Nor I, by Pluto: but that that likes 
+
+
+.| not you pleases me best. 
+
+
+Dio. What, shall I come? the hour? 
+Cres. Ay, come:—O Jove!—do come:—I 
+shall be plagued. 
+Dio. Farewell till then. 
+Cres. Good night: I prithee, come. 
+[Exit Diomedes, 
+Troilus, farewell! one eye yet looks on thee; 
+But with my heart the other eye doth see. 
+Ah, poor our sex! this fault.in us I find, 
+The error of our eye directs our mind: 110 
+What error leads must err; O, then conclude 
+Minds sway’d by eyes are full of turpitude. 
+[Exit. 
+Ther. A. proof of strength she could not 
+publish more, 
+Unless she said ‘My mind is now turn’d 
+whore.” 
+Ulyss. All's done, my lord. 
+Tro. It is. 
+Ulyss. Why stay we, then? 
+Tro. To make a recordation to my soul 
+Of every syllable that here was spoke. 
+But if I tell how these two did co-act, 
+Shall I not lie in publishing a truth? 
+Sith yet there is a credence in my heart, 
+An esperance so obstinately strong, 
+That doth invert the attest of eyes and ears, 
+As if those organs had deceptious functions, 
+Created only to calumniate. 
+Was Cressid here? 
+Ulyss. I cannot conjure, Trojan. 
+Tro. She was not, sure. 
+Ulyss. Most sure she was. 
+Tro. Why, my negation hath no taste of 
+madness. 
+Ulyss. Nor mine, my lord: Cressid was 
+here but now. 
+Tro. Let it not be believed for woman- 
+hood! 
+Think, we had mothers; do not give advantage 
+To stubborn critics, apt, without a theme, 131 
+For depravation, to square the general sex 
+By Cressid’s rule: rather think this not Cressid. 
+Ulyss. What hath she done, prince, that 
+can soil our mothers? 
+Tro. Nothing at all, unless that this were she. 
+Ther. Will he swagger himself out on's 
+own eyes? 
+ro. This she? no, this is Diomed 's Cres- 
+sida: 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+804 
+
+
+If beauty have a soul, this is not she; 
+If souls guide vows, if vows be sanctimonies, 
+If sanctimony by the gods’ delight, 140 
+If there be rule in unity itself, 
+This is not she. O madness of discourse, 
+That cause sets up with and against itself! 
+Bi-fold authority! where reason can revolt 
+Without perdition, and loss assume all reason 
+With revolt: this is, and is not, Cressid. 
+Within my soul there doth conduce a fight 
+Of this strange nature that a thing inseparate 
+Divides more wider than the sky and earth, 
+And yet the spacious breadth of this division 
+Admits no orifex for a point as subtle 15] 
+As Ariachne’s broken woof to enter. 
+Instance, O instance! strong as Pluto's gates; 
+Cressid is mine, tied with the bonds of heaven: 
+Instance, O instance! strong as heaven itself; 
+The bonds of heaven are slipp'd, dissolved, 
+and loosed; 
+And with another knot, five-finger-tied, 
+The fractions of her faith, orts of her love, 
+The fragments, scraps, the bits and greasy 
+relics 159 
+Of her o’er-eaten faith, are bound to Diomed. 
+Ulyss. May worthy Troilus be half attach’d 
+With that which here his passion doth express? 
+Tro. Ay, Greek; and that shall be di- 
+vulged well 
+in characters as red as Mars his heart 
+Inflamed with Venus: never did young man 
+fancy 
+With so eternal and so fix’d a soul. 
+Hark, Greek: as much as I do Cressid love, 
+So much by weight hate I her Diomed: 
+That sleeve is mine that he ‘Il bear on his helm; 
+Were it a casque composed by Vulcan's skill, 
+My sword should bite it: not the dreadful 
+spout 171 
+Which shipmen do the hurricano call, 
+Constringed in mass by the almighty sun, 
+Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune’s ear 
+In his descent than shall my prompted sword 
+Falling on Diomed. 
+Ther. He'll tickle it for his concupy. 
+Tro. O Cressid! O false Cressid! false, 
+false, false! 
+Let all untruths stand by thy stained name, 
+And they ‘Il seem glorious. 
+Ulyss. O, contain yourself ; 
+Your passion draw ears hither. 
+
+
+Enter FENEAas. 
+
+
+“Ene. I have been seeking you this hour, 
+my lord: 
+Hector, by this, is arming him in Troy; 
+Ajax, your guard, stays to conduct you home. 
+Tro. Have with you, prince. My cour- 
+*eous lord. adieu. 
+
+
+180 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+{Acr V, Sc. III 
+
+
+Farewell, revolted fair! and, Diomed, 
+Stand fast, and wear a castle on thy head! 
+Ulyss. I'll bring you to the gates, 
+Tro. Accept distracted thanks. 
+[Exeunt Troilus, AEneas, and Ulysses, 
+Ther. Would I could meet that rogue Dio- 
+med! I would croak like a raven; 1 would 
+bode, I would bode. Paitroclus will give me 
+any thing for the intelligence of this whore: 
+the parrot will not do more for an almond 
+than he for a commodious drab. Lechery, 
+lechery; still, wars and lechery; nothing else 
+holds fashion: a burning devil take them! 
+[Exit. 
+
+
+Scene III]. Troy. Before Priam's palace. .. 
+
+
+Enter Hector and ANDROMACHE. 
+And. When was my lord so much ungently 
+temper’d, 
+To stop his ears against admonishment? 
+Unarm, unarm, and do not fight to-day. > 
+Hect. You train me to offend you; get 
+you in: 
+By all the everlasting gods, I'll go! 
+And. My dreams will, sure, prove ominous 
+to the day. 
+Hect. No more, I say. 
+
+
+Enter CassANDRA. 
+
+
+Cas. Where is my brother Hector? 
+And. Here, sister; arm’d and bloody in 
+intent. 
+Consort with me in loud and dear petition, 
+Pursue we him on knees; for I have dream’d 
+Of bloody turbulence, and this whole night | I 
+Hath nothing been but shapes and forms of 
+
+
+slaughter. 
+Cas. O, ’tis true. 
+Hect. ‘Ho! bid my trumpet sound. 
+
+
+Cas. No notes of sally, for the heavens, 
+
+sweet brother. 
+
+Hect. Be gone, I say: the gods have heard 
+
+me swear, 
+
+Cas. The gods are deaf to hot and peevish 
+_ vows: 
+
+They are polluted offerings, more abhorr’d 
+Than spotted livers in the sacrifice, 
+And. O, be persuaded! do not count it 
+holy 
+To hurt by being just: it is as lawful, 20 
+For we would give much, to use violent thefts, 
+And rob in the behalf of charity. 
+Cas. It is the purpose that makes strong 
+the vow; 
+But vows to every purpose must not hold: 
+Unarm, sweet Hector. 
+
+Hect. Hold you still, I say: 
+Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate: 
+Life every man holds dear; but the brave man 
+Holds honour far more precious-dear than life. 
+
+
+Act V, Se. Ill] 
+
+
+~~ 
+
+
+Enter Troitus. 
+
+
+How now, young man! mean’st thou to fight 
+to-day ? 
+And. Cassandra, call my father to per- 
+suade. [Exit Cassandra. 
+Hect. No, faith, young Troilus; doff thy 
+harness, youth, 31 
+I am to-day i’ the vein of chivalry: 
+Let grow thy sinews till knots be strong, 
+And tempt not yet the brushes of the war. 
+Unarm thee, go, and doubt thou not, brave 
+boy, 
+I Il stand to-day for thee and me and Troy. 
+Tro. Brother, you have a vice of mercy in 
+you, 
+Which better fits a lion than a man. 
+Hect. What vice is that, good Troilus? 
+chide me for jt. 
+res cube many times the captive Grecian 
+alls, 
+Even in the fan and wind of your fair sword, 
+You bid them rise, and live. 
+Hect. O, ’tis fair play. 
+Tro. Fool's play, by heaven, Hector. 
+Hect. How now! how now! 
+
+TO. For the love of all the gods, 
+Let’s leave the hermit pit; with our mothers, 
+And when we have our armours buckled on, 
+The venom’d vengeance ride upon our swords, 
+Spur them to ruthful work, rein them from 
+
+
+ruth. 
+Hect. Fie, savage, fie! 
+Tro. Hector, then “tis wars. 
+
+
+Hect. Troilus, I would not have you fight 
+to-day. c 50 
+Tro. Who should withhold me? 
+Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars 
+Beckoning with fiery truncheon my retire; 
+Not Priamus and Hecuba on knees, 
+Their eyes o'ergalled with recourse of tears; 
+Nor you, my brother, with your true sword 
+drawn, 
+Opposed to hinder me, should stop my way, 
+But by my ruin. 
+Re-enter CassaNprRA, with PRIAM. 
+we Lay hold upon him, Priam, hold him 
+ast: 
+He is thy crutch; now if thou lose thy stay, 60 
+Thou on him leaning, and all Troy on thee, 
+Fall all together. 
+Pri. Come, Hector, come, go back: 
+Thy wife hath dream'd; thy mother hath had 
+Visions; 
+Cassandra doth foresee; and I myself 
+Am like a prophet suddenly enrapt 
+To tell thee that this day is ominous: 
+Therefore, come back. 
+Hect. FEneas is a-field; 
+And I do stand engaged to many Greeks, 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+805 
+
+
+Even in the faith of valour, to appear - 
+This morning to them. 
+
+Pri. Ay, but thou shalt not go. 
+
+Hect. I must not break my faith. 7\ 
+You know me dutiful; therefore, dear sir, 
+Let me not shame respect; but give me leave 
+To take that course by your consent and voice, 
+Which you do forbid me, royal Priam. 
+
+Cas. O Priam, yield not to him! 
+
+And, Do not, dear father. 
+
+Hect. Andromache, I am offended with you: 
+Upon the love you bear me, get you in. 
+
+[Exit Andromache. 
+Tro. 
+
+
+This foolish, dreaming superstitious 
+
+
+girl 
+Makes all these bodements. 
+Cas. O, farewell, dear Hector! 
+Look, how thou diest! look, how thy eye turns 
+pale! 81 
+Look, how thy wounds do bleed at many vents! 
+Hark, how Troy roars! how Hecuba cries out! 
+How poor Andromache shrills her dolours 
+forth! 
+Behold, distraction, frenzy and amazement, 
+Like witless antics, one another meet, 
+And all cry, Hector! Hector’s dead! 
+Hector! 
+Tro. Away! away! 
+Cas. Farewell: yet, soft! Hector, I take 
+
+
+O 
+
+
+my leave: 
+Thou dost thyself and all our Troy ore 90 
+xit, 
+Hect. You are amazed, my liege, at her 
+exclaim: 
+Go in and cheer the town: we'll forth and 
+fight, 
+Do deeds worth praise and tell you them at 
+night. 
+Pri. Farewell: the gods with safety stand 
+about thee! ~ 
+[Exeunt severally Priam and Hector. 
+Alarums. 
+Tro. They are at it, hark! Proud Diomed, 
+believe, 
+
+
+I come to lose my arm, or win my sleeve. 
+Enter PANDARUS. 
+
+
+Pan. Do you hear, my lord, do you hear? 
+
+Tro. What now? 
+
+Pan. Here's a letter come from yond poor 
+
+girl. 
+
+Tro. Let me read. 100 
+
+Pan. A whoreson tisick, a whoreson ras- 
+cally tisick so troubles me, and the foolish for- 
+tune of this girl; and what one thing, what 
+another that I shall leave you one o' these 
+days: and I have a rheum in mine eyes too, 
+and such an ache in my bones that, unless a 
+man were cursed, I cannot tell what to think 
+on’t, What says she there? 
+
+
+806 
+
+
+Tro. Words, words, mere words, no matter 
+from the heart; 
+The effect doth operate another way. 
+[Tearing the letter. 
+Go, wind, to wind, there turn and change 
+together. 110 
+My love with words and errors still she feeds; 
+But edifies another with her deeds. 
+[Exeunt severally. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Plains between Troy and the 
+Grecian camp. 
+Alarums: excursions. Enter THERSITES. 
+
+
+Ther. Now they are clapper-clawing one 
+another; I'll go look on. That dissembling 
+abominable varlet, Diomed, has got that same 
+scurvy doting foolish young knave’s sleeve of 
+Troy there in his helm: I would fain see them 
+meet; that that same young Trojan ass, that 
+loves the whore there, might send that Greek- 
+ish whoremasterly villain, with the sleeve, 
+back to the dissembling luxurious drab, of a 
+sleeveless errand. ©” the t'other side, the 
+policy of those crafty swearing rascals, that 
+stale old mouse-eaten dry cheese, Nestor, and 
+that same dog-fox, Ulysses, is not, proved 
+worth a blackberry: they set me up, in policy, 
+that mongrel cur, Ajax, against that dog of 
+as bad a kind, Achilles: and now is the cur 
+Ajax prouder than the cur Achilles, and will 
+not arm to-day; whereupon the Grecians be- 
+gin to proclaim barbarism, and policy grows 
+into an ill opinion. Soft! here comes sleeve, 
+and vother. 
+
+Enter Diomepes, TroiLus following. 
+
+
+Tro. Fly not; for shouldst thou take the 
+river Styx, 20 
+I would swim after. 
+Dio. Thou dost miscall retire: 
+
+
+I do not fly, but advantageous care 
+Withdrew me from the odds of multitude: 
+Have at thee! 
+
+Ther. Hold thy whore, Grecian!—now 
+for thy whore, Trojan!—now the sleeve, now 
+the sleeve! 
+
+
+[Exeunt Troilus and Diomedes, fighting. 
+Enter Hector. 
+Hect. What art thou, Greek? art thou for 
+
+
+Hector’s match ? 
+
+Art thou of blood and honour? 
+
+Ther. No, no, i am a rascal; a scurvy 
+railing knave; a very filthy rogue. 31 
+
+Hec. | do believe thee: live. [Exit. 
+
+Ther. God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe 
+me; but a plague break thy neck for frighting 
+me! What's become of the wenching rogues? 
+I think they have swallowed one another: I 
+would laugh at that miracle; yet, in a sort, 
+lechery eats itself, Ill seek them. [Exit. | 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. V 
+
+
+Scene V. Another part of the plains. 
+Enter DiomebEs and a Servant. 
+Dio. Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus’ 
+horse; 
+
+Present the fair steed to my lady Cressid: 
+Fellow, commend my service to her beauty; 
+Tell her I have chastised the amorous Trojan, 
+And am her knight by proof. 
+
+Serv, I go, my lord. [Exit. 
+
+Enter AGAMEMNON. 
+Agam. Renew, renew! ‘The fierce Poly- 
+damas 
+
+Hath beat down Menon: bastard Margarelon 
+Hath Doreus priscner, 
+And stands colossus-wise, waving his beam, 
+Upon the pashed corses of the kings 
+Epistrophus and Cedius: Polyxenes is slain, 
+Amphimachus and Thoas déadly hurt, 
+Patroclus ta’en or slain, and Palamedes 
+Sore hurt and bruised: the dreadful Sagittary 
+Appals our numbers: haste we, Diomed, 
+To reinforcement, or we perish all, 
+
+
+Enter Nestor. 
+
+
+Nest. Go, bear Patroclus’ body to Achilles; 
+And bid the snail-paced Ajax arm for shame. 
+There is a thousand Hectors in the field: 
+Now here he fights on Galathe his horse, 20 
+And there lacks work; anon he’s there afoot, 
+And there they fly or die, like scaled sculls 
+Before the belching whale; then is he yonder, 
+And there the strawy Greeks, ripe for his edge, 
+Fall down before him, like the mower’s swath: 
+Here, there, and every where, he leaves and 
+
+takes, 
+Dexterity so obeying appetite 
+That what he will he does, and does so much 
+That proof is call’d impossibility. 
+Enter ULysseEs. 
+Ulyss. O, courage, courage, princes! great 
+
+
+Achilles 
+
+
+Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance: 
+
+
+Patroclus’ wounds have roused his drowsy: 
+
+
+blood, E 
+Together with his mangled Myrmidons, 
+That noseless, handless, hack'd and chipp'd, 
+come to him, 
+Crying on Hector. Ajax hath lost a friend 
+And foams at mouth, and he is arm’d and at it, 
+Roaring for Troilus, who hath done to-day 
+Mad and fantastic execution, 
+Engaging and redeeming of himself 
+With such a careless force and forceless care 
+As if that luck, in every spite of cunning, 
+Bade him win all. 
+Enter Ajax. 
+Ajax. Troilus! thou coward Troilus! [Exit, 
+Dio. Ay, there, there. 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+ae 
+
+
+‘cr V, Sc.'VI] 
+
+
+Nest. So, so, we draw together. 
+
+ye i Enter ACHILLES. 
+
+: Achil. Where is this Hector? 
+
+- Come, come, thou boy queller, show thy face; 
+
+Know what it is to meet Achilles angry: 
+
+Hector! where’s Hector? J will none but 
+Hector. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene VI. Another part of the plains. 
+Enter Ajax. 
+Ajax. Troilus, thou coward Troilus, show 
+
+
+thy head! 
+Enter DIoMEDEs. 
+
+
+Dio. Troilus, I say! where's Troilus? 
+
+Ajax. What wouidst thou? 
+
+Dio. 1 would correct him. 
+
+Ajax. Were I the general, thou shouldst 
+have my office 
+
+~ Ere that correction. | 
+
+Troilus! 
+
+
+Troilus, I say! what, 
+
+
+Enter TrotLus. 
+
+
+Tro. O traitor Diomed! turn thy false 
+_ face, thou traitor, 
+And pay thy life thou owest me for my horse! 
+Dio. Ha, art thou there? 
+Ajax. 1'll fight with him alone: stand, 
+Diomed. 9 
+Dio. He is my prize; I will not look upon. 
+Tro. Come, both you cogging Greeks; have 
+at you both! [Exeunt, fighting. 
+. Enter Hector, 
+
+
+Hect. Yea, Troilus? O, well fought, my 
+
+
+'~ youngest brother! 
+Enter ACHILLES. 
+
+
+Achil. Now do I see thee, ha! have at 
+thee, Hector! 
+
+Hect. Pause, if thou wilt. 
+
+Achil. 1 do disdain thy courtesy, proud 
+
+fs Lrojan: 
+
+Be happy that my arms are out of use: 
+
+- ~ My rest and negligence befriends thee now, 
+
+But thou anon shalt hear of me again; 
+
+Till when, go seek thy fortune. [Exit. 
+me  Hect. : Fare thee well: © 
+
+- | would have been much more a fresher man, 
+
+Had I expected thee. How now, my brother! 
+
+Re-enter TROILUS. 
+
+Tro. Ajax hath ta’en /Eneas: shall it be? 
+No, by, the flame of yonder glorious heaven, 
+He shall not carry him: I'll be ta’en too, 
+
+Or bring him off: fate, hear me what I say! 
+I reck not though | end my life to-day. [Exit. 
+Enter one in sumptuous armour. 
+Hect. Stand, stand, thou Greek; thou art 
+a goodly mark: 
+No? wilt thou not? I like thy armour well; 
+I'll frush it and unlock the rivets all, 
+
+
+i 
+‘ 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+807 
+
+
+But I'll be master of it: wilt thou not, beast, 
+abide? 3 
+Why, then fly on, I'll hunt thee for thy hide, 
+[Exeunt, 
+Scene VII. Another part of the plains. 
+Enter ACHILLES, with Myrmidons. 
+Achil. Come here about me, you my Myr 
+midons; 
+
+
+-|Mark what I say. Attend me where I wheel: 
+
+
+Strike not a stroke, but keep yourselves im 
+breath: 
+
+And when I have the bloody Hector found, 
+
+Empale him with your weapons round about; 
+
+In fellest manner execute your aims, 
+
+Follow me, sirs, and my proceedings eye: 
+
+It is decreed Hector the great must die. 
+[Exeunt, 
+
+Enter MENELAUus, and Panis, fighting: then 
+
+THERSITES. 
+
+Ther. The cuckold and the cuckold-maker 
+are at it. Now, bull! now, dog! ‘Loo, Paris, 
+‘loo! now my double-henned sparrow! loo, 
+Paris, “loo. The bull has the game: ware 
+horns, ho! [Exeunt Paris and Menelaus. 
+
+
+Enter MARGARELON. 
+
+
+Mar. Turn, slave, and fight. 
+
+Ther. What art thou? 
+
+Mar. A bastard son of Priam’s. 
+
+Ther. I am a bastard too; I love bastards: 
+I am a bastard begot, bastard instructed, bas- 
+tard in mind, bastard in valour, in every thing 
+illegitimate. One bear will not bite another, 
+and wherefore should one bastard? Take 
+heed, the quarrel’s most ominous to us: if 
+the son of a whore fight for a whore, he tempts 
+judgement: farewell, bastard. [Exit. 
+
+Mar. The devil take thee, coward! [Exit. 
+
+Scene VIII. Another part of the plains. 
+
+Enter HEcTor. 
+
+Hect. Most putrefied core, so fair without, 
+Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life. 
+Now is my day’s work done; I'll take good 
+
+breath: 
+Rest, sword; thou hast thy fill of blood and 
+death. 
+[Puts off his helmet and hangs his shield 
+behind him. 
+Enter AcuiLtes and Myrmidons. 
+
+
+Achil. Look, Hector, how the sun begins to 
+set; 
+How ugly night comes breathing at his heels: 
+Even with the vail and darking of the sun, 
+To close the day up, Hector’s life is done. 
+Hect. 1 am unarm'd; forego this vantage, 
+Greek. 
+Achil. Strike, fellows, strike; this is the 
+man I seek. [Hector falls. 10 
+
+
+808 
+
+
+TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. X 
+
+
+So, Ilion, fall thou next! now, Troy, sink | I do not speak of flight, of fear, of death, 
+
+
+down! 
+Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone. 
+On, Myrmidons, and cry you all amain, 
+“Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain.’ 
+[A retreat sounded. 
+Hark! a retire upon our Grecian part. 
+Myr, The Trojan trumpets sound the like, 
+my lord. 
+Achil. The dragon wing of night o’er- 
+spreads the earth, 
+And, stickler-like, the armies separates, 
+My half-supp’d sword, that frankly would 
+have fed, 
+Pleased with this dainty bait, thus goes to bed. 
+[Sheathes his sword. 
+Come, tie his body to my horse’s tail; 21 
+Along the field I will the Troan trail. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IX. Another part of the plains. 
+
+
+Enter AGAMEMNON, Ayax, MENELAUs, 
+Nestor, DIoMEDES, and others, marching. 
+Shouts within. 
+
+
+Agam. Hark! hark! what shout is that? 
+Nest. Peace, drums! 
+[Within] Achilles! Achilles! Hector’s slain! 
+Achilles! 
+Dio. The bruit is, Hector’s slain, and by 
+Achilles. 
+Ajax. If it be so, yet bragless let it be; 
+Great Hector was a man as good as he, 
+Agam. March patiently along: let one be 
+sent 
+To pray Achilles to see us at our tent. 
+If in his death the gods have us befriended, 
+Great Troy is ours, and our sharp wars are 
+ended, [Exeunt, marching. 10 
+
+
+Scene X. Another part of the plains. 
+Enter FENEAS and Trojans. 
+Ene. Stand, ho! yet are we masters of 
+
+
+the field: 
+
+
+Never go home; here starve we out the night. 
+Enter Troitus. 
+Tro. Hector is slain. 
+
+
+All. Hector! the gods forbid! 
+Tro. He’s dead; and at the murderer's 
+horse’s tail, 
+In beastly sort, dragg’d through the shameful 
+field, 
+Frown on, you heavens, effect your rage with 
+speed! 
+Sit gods, upon your thrones, and smile at Troy! 
+I say, at once let your brief plagues be mercy, 
+And linger not our sure destructions on! 
+“Ene. My lord, you do discomfort all the 
+host. 
+Tro. You understand me not that tell me so: 
+
+
+But dare all imminence that gods and men 
+
+Address their dangers in. Hector is gone: 
+
+Who shall tell Priam so, or Hecuba? 
+
+Let him that will a screech-owl aye be call'd, 
+
+Go in to Troy, and say there, Hector’s dead: 
+
+There is a word will Priam turn to stone; 
+
+Make wells and Niobes of the maids and 
+wives, 
+
+Cold statues of the youth, and, in a word, 20 
+
+Scare Troy out of itself. But, march away: 
+
+Hector is dead; there is no more to say. 
+
+Stay yet. You vile abominable tents, 
+
+Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains, 
+
+Let Titan rise as early as he dare. 
+
+
+I'll through and through you! and, thou great- - 
+
+
+sized coward, 
+No space of earth shall sunder our two hates: 
+I ‘ll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still, 
+That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy’s 
+thoughts. 
+Strike a free march to Troy! with comfort go: 
+Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe. 
+[Exeunt AEneas and Trojans. 
+
+
+As TROILUs is going out, enter from the other 
+side, PANDARUS. 
+
+
+Pan, But hear you, hear you! 
+Tro. Hence, broker-lackey! ignomy and 
+shame 
+Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name! 
+[Exit. 
+Pan. A goodly medicine for my aching 
+bones! O world! world! world! thus is the 
+poor agent despised! O traitors and bawds, 
+how earnestly are you set a-work, and how ill 
+requited! why should our endeavour be so 
+loved and the performance so loathed? what 
+verse for it? what instance for it? Let me see: 
+Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing, 
+Till he hath lost his honey and his sting; 
+And being once subdued in armed tail, 
+Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail. 
+Good traders in the flesh, set this in your 
+painted cloths. 
+As many as be here of pandar’s hall, 
+ied eyes, half out, weep out at Pandar’s 
+all; 
+Or if you cannot weep, yet give some groans, 
+Though not for me, yet for your aching 
+bones. 
+Brethren and sisters of the hold-door trade, 
+Some two months hence my will shall here 
+be made: 
+It should be now, but that my fear is this, 
+Some galled goose of Winchester would hiss: 
+Till then I'll sweat and seek about for eases, 
+
+
+0| And at that time bequeath you my diseases. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+
+
+sae dy ae. 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAZ 
+
+
+Carus Marcius, afterwards Carus Mar- 
+cius CoRIOLANUS. 
+
+Titus Lartius, ate against the 
+
+ComINIus, Volscians. 
+
+MENENius AcrippA, friend to Coriolanus. 
+
+Sicinius VELUTUS, he of the 
+
+Junius Brutus, people. 
+
+Young Marcius, son to Coriolanus. 
+
+A Roman Herald. 
+
+Tutus Auripius, general of the Volscians. 
+
+Lieutenant to Aufidius. 
+
+Conspirators with Aufidius. 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+
+
+Scene I. Rome. A street. 
+
+
+Enter a company of mutinous Citizens, with 
+staves, clubs, and other weapons. 
+
+
+First Cit. Before we proceed any further, 
+hear me speak. 
+
+All, Speak, speak. 
+
+First Cit. You are all resolved rather to 
+die than to famish? 
+
+All. Resolved, resolved. 
+
+First Cit. First, you know Caius Marcius 
+is chief enemy to the people. 
+
+All. We know 't, we know 't. 
+
+First Cit. Let us kill him, and we ‘ll have 
+corn at our own price. Is’t a verdict? I 
+
+All. No more talking on't; let it be done: 
+away, away! 
+
+Sec. Cit. One word, good citizens. 
+
+First Cit. We are accounted poor citizens, 
+the patricians good. What authority surfeits 
+on would relieve us: if they would yield us 
+but the superfluity, while it were wholesome, 
+we might guess they relieved us humanely; but 
+they think we are too dear: the leanness that 
+afflicts us. the object of our misery, is as an 
+inventory to particularize their abundance; 
+our sufferance is a gain to them. Let us re- 
+venge , this with our pikes, ere we become 
+rakes: for the gods know I speak this in 
+hunger for bread, not in thirst for revenge. 
+
+Sec. Cit. Would you proceed especially 
+against Caius Marcius? 
+
+All. Against him first: he’s a very dog to 
+the commonalty, 
+
+Sec. Cit. Consider you what services he 
+has done for his country? | 
+
+
+A Citizen of Antium. 
+
+Two Volscian Guards. 
+
+VoLumnliA, mother to Coriolanus. 
+
+VircIL!A, wife to Coriolanus. 
+
+VALERIA, friend to Virgilia. 
+
+Gentlewoman, attending on Virgilia. 
+
+Roman and Volscian Senators, Patricians, 
+FEdiles, Lictors, Soldiers, Citizens, Messen- 
+gers, Servants to Aufidius, and other At- 
+tendants. 
+
+ScENE: Rome and the neighbourhood ; Corioli 
+
+and the neighbourhood; Antium. 
+
+
+First Cit. Very well; and could be content 
+to give him good report for 't, but that he pays 
+himself with being proud. 
+
+Sec. Cit. Nay, but speak not maliciously. 
+
+First Cit. I say unto you, what he hath 
+done famously, he did it to that end: though 
+soft-conscienced men can be content to say it 
+was for his country, he did it to please his 
+mother, and to be partly proud; which he is, 
+even to the altitude of his virtue. 4) 
+
+Sec. Cit. What he cannot help in his na- 
+ture, you account a vice in him. You must in 
+no way say he is covetous. 
+
+First Cit. If I must not, I need not be bar- 
+ren of accusations; he hath faults, with sur- 
+plus, to tire in repetition. [Shouts within.] 
+What shouts are these? The other side o’ the 
+city is risen: why stay we prating here? to 
+the Capitol! 
+
+All. Come, come. 50 
+
+First Cit. Soft! who comes here? 
+
+
+Enter MeNENIUS AcRIPPA. 
+
+
+Sec Cit. Worthy Menenius Agrippa; one 
+that hath always loved the people. 
+
+First Cit. He's one honest enough: would 
+all the rest were so! 
+
+Men. What work's, my countrymen, in 
+
+hand? where go you 
+With bats and clubs? The matter? speak, I 
+pray you. 
+
+First Cit. Our business is not unknown to 
+the senate; they have had inkling this fort- 
+night what we intend to do, which now we ‘ll 
+show "em in deeds. They say poor suttors 
+have strong breaths: they shall know we have 
+strong arms too. 
+
+
+ana 
+
+
+810 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc, I 
+
+
+oo ee 
+
+
+Men. Why, masters, my good friends, 
+mine honest neighbours, 
+Will you undo yourselves? 
+
+First Cit. We cannot, sir, we are undone 
+already, 
+
+Men. {| tell you, friends, most charitable care 
+Have the patricians of you. For your wants, 
+Your suffering in this dearth, you may as well 
+Strike at the heaven with your staves as lift 
+
+them 70 
+Against the Roman state, whose course will on 
+The way it takes, crackling ten thousand curbs 
+Of more strong link asunder than can ever 
+Appear in your impediment. For the dearth, 
+The gods, not the patricians, make it, and 
+Your knees to them, not arms, must help. 
+
+Alack, 
+
+You are transported by calamity 
+
+Thither where more attends you, and you 
+slander 
+
+The helms o” the state, who care for you like 
+fathers, 
+
+When you curse them as enemies, 80 
+
+First Cit. Care for us! True, indeed! 
+They ne’er cared for us yet: suffer us to fam- 
+ish, and their store-houses crammed with grain; 
+make edicts for usury, to support usurers; re- 
+peal daily any wholesome act established 
+against the rich, and provide more piercing 
+statutes daily, to chain up and restrain the poor. 
+If the wars eat us not up, they will; and 
+there's all the love they bear us, 
+
+Men. Either you must 90 
+Confess yourselves wondrous malicious, 
+
+Or be accused of folly. I shall tell you 
+
+A pretty tale: it may be you have heard it; 
+But, since it serves my purpose, I will venture 
+To stale ’t a little more. 
+
+First Cit. Well, I'll hear it, sir: yet you 
+must not think to fob off our disgrace with a 
+tale: but, ant please you, deliver. 
+
+Men. There was a time when all the body's 
+
+members 
+Rebell'd against the belly, thus accused it: 100 
+That only like a gulf it did remain 
+I’ the midst 0° the body, idle and unactive, 
+Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing 
+Like labour with the rest, where the other 
+
+instruments 
+Did see and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel, 
+And, mutually participate, d'd minister 
+Unto the appetite and affection common 
+Of the whole body. The belly answer’d— 
+First Cit. Well, sir, what answer made the 
+
+
+belly > 110 
+Men. Sir, I shall tell you. With a kind 
+of smile, 
+Which ne’er came from the lungs, but even 
+thus— 
+
+
+For, look you, I may make the belly smile 
+
+As well as speak—it tauntingly replied 
+
+To the discontented members, the mutinous 
+parts 
+
+That envied his receipt; even so most fitly 
+
+As you malign our senators for that 
+
+They are not such as you. 
+
+First Cit. Your belly’s answer? What? 
+The kingly-crowned head, the vigilant eye, 
+The counsellor heart, the arm our soldier, 120 
+Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter, 
+With other muniments and petty helps 
+In this our fabric, if that they— 
+
+
+Men, What then? 
+‘Fore me, this fellow speaks! What then? 
+what then? 
+
+
+First Cit. Should: by the cormorant belly 
+be restrain'd, 
+Who is the sink o’ the body,— 
+Men, Well, what then? 
+First Cit. The former agents, if they did 
+complain, 
+What could the belly answer? 
+Men. I will tell you; 
+If you'll bestow a small—of what you have 
+little— 129 
+Patience awhile, you 'Il hear the belly’s answer. 
+First Cit. Ye're long about it. 
+Men. Note me this, good friend; 
+Your most grave belly was deliberate, 
+Not rash like his accusers, and thus answer'd: 
+“True is it, my incorporate friends,’ quoth he, 
+‘That I receive the general food at first, 
+Which you do live upon; and fit it is, 
+Because I am the store-house and the shop 
+Of the whole body: but, if you do remember, 
+I send it through the rivers of your blood, 
+Even to the court, the heart, to the seat o’ 
+the brain; 140 
+And, through the cranks and offices of man, 
+The strongest nerves and small inferior veins 
+From me receive that natural competency 
+Whereby they live: and though that all at once, 
+You, my good friends,'—this says the belly, 
+mark me,— 
+First Cit. Ay, sir; well, well. 
+en. “Though all at once cannot 
+See what I do deliver out to each, 
+Yet I can make my audit up, that all 
+From me do back receive the flour of all, 
+And leave me but the bran.’ What say you 
+
+
+to 't? 150 
+First Cit. It was an answer: how apply 
+you this? 
+
+
+Men. The senators of Rome are this good 
+belly, 
+
+And you the mutinous members; for examine 
+
+Their counsels and their cares. digest things 
+rightly 
+
+
+® 
+
+
+~ Act I, Sc. I] 
+
+
+_ Touching the weal o’ the common, you shall 
+o , n 
+
+t No public benefit which you receive 
+
+4 But it proceeds or comes from them to you 
+
+
+‘ And no way from yourselves. What do you 
+hy think, 
+
+~* You, the great toe of this assembly ? 
+
+q First Cit. 1 the great toe! why the great 
+r toe? 160 
+
+
+Men. For that, being one o' the lowest, 
+7 basest, poorest, 
+Of this most wise rebellion, thou go’st fore- 
+
+most: 
+
+Thou rascal, that art worst in blood to run, 
+Lead’st first to win some vantage. 
+But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs: 
+Rome and her rats are at the point of battle; 
+The one side must have bale. 
+
+
+tt 
+a 
+
+
+~, Enter Carus Marcius. 
+
+
+Hail, noble Marctus. 
+Mar. Thanks. What's the matter, you 
+dissentious rogues, 
+That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion, 
+Make yourselves scabs? 
+First Cit. We have ever your good word. 
+Mar. He that will give good words to 
+thee will flatter 171 
+Beneath abhorring. What would you have, 
+you curs, 
+That like nor peace nor war? the one af- 
+frights you, 
+The other makes you proud. He that trusts 
+
+
+EI aS Re Ee 
+
+
+~ to you, 
+Where he should find you lions, finds you 
+hares; 
+Where foxes, geese: you are no surer, no, 
+Than is the coal of fire upon the ice, 
+Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is 
+To make him worthy whose offence subdues 
+
+
+| 
+. 
+
+
+7 
+g 
+é 
+z 
+i 
+} 
+
+
+him 
+And curse that justice did it. Who deserves 
+greatness 180 
+
+
+Deserves your hate; and your affections are 
+
+A sick man’s appetite, who desires most that 
+
+‘Which would increase his evil. He that de- 
+pends 
+
+Upon your favours swims with fins of lead 
+
+And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang 
+ye! Trust ye? 
+
+With every minute you do change a mind, 
+
+And call him noble that was now your hate, 
+
+Him vile that was your garland. What's 
+the matter, 
+
+’ That in these several places of the city 
+You cry against the noble senate, who, 190 
+Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else 
+Would feed on one another? What’s their 
+
+seeking ? 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+I 
+
+
+8li 
+
+
+Men. For corn at their own rates; whereof 
+
+
+they say, 
+The city is well stored. 
+Mar Hang ‘em! They say! 
+
+
+They ‘Il sit by the fire, and presume to know 
+
+What's done i’ the Capitol; who's like to rise, 
+
+Who thrives and who declines; side factions 
+and give out 
+
+Conjectural marriages; making parties strong 
+
+And feebling such as stand not in their liking 
+
+Below their cobbled shoes. They say there's 
+grain enough! 200 
+
+Would the nobility lay aside their ruth, 
+
+And let me use my sword, I ‘Id make a quarry 
+
+With thousands of these quarter’d slaves, as 
+high 
+
+As I could pick my lance. 
+
+Men. Nay, these are almost thoroughly 
+
+persuaded; 
+
+For though abundantly they lack discretion, 
+
+Yet are they passing cowardly. But, I be- 
+seech you, 
+
+What says the other troop? 
+
+
+Mar. They are dissolved: hang ‘em! 
+They said they were an-hungry; sigh’d forth 
+proverbs, 
+That hunger broke stone walls, that dogs 
+must eat, 210 
+
+
+That meat was made for mouths, that the 
+gods sent not 
+Corn for the rich men only: with these shreds 
+They vented their complainings; which being 
+answer d, 
+And a petition granted them, a strange one— 
+To break the heart of generosity, 
+And make bold power look pale—they threw 
+their caps 
+As they would hang them on the horns o’ 
+the moon, 
+Shouting their emulation. 
+Men. What is granted them? 
+Mar. Five tribunes to defend their vulgar 
+wisdoms, 
+Of their own choice: one’s Junius Brutus, 
+Sicinius Velutus, and I know not—'Sdeath! 
+The rabble should have first unroof’d the city, 
+Ere so prevail’d with me: it will in tme 
+Win upon power and throw forth greater 
+themes 
+For insurrection’s arguing. 
+Men. This is strange, 
+Mar. Go, get you home, you fragments! 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger, hastily. 
+
+
+Mess, Where’s Cais Marcius> 
+
+Mar. Here: what's the matter? 
+
+Mess. The news is, sir, the Volsces are in 
+arms. 
+
+
+812 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+{Act I, Sc. II 
+
+
+Mar. I am glad on't: then we shall ha’ 
+means to vent 
+Our musty superfiuity. See, our best elders. 
+
+
+Enter Cominius, Titus Lartius, and other 
+Senators; Junius Brutus and Sicinius 
+VELUTUS, 
+
+
+First Sen. Marcius, ‘tis true that you have 
+lately told us; 231 
+The Volsces are in arms. 
+
+Mar. They have a leader, 
+Tullus Aufdius, that will put you to’t. 
+
+I sin in envying his nobility, 
+
+And were I| any thing but what I am, 
+
+I would wish me only he. 
+Com. You have fought together. 
+Mar. Were half to half the world by the 
+
+ears and he 
+
+Upon my party, I ‘Id revolt, to make 
+
+Only my wars with him: he is a lion 
+
+That I am proud to hunt. 
+
+First. Sen. Then, worthy Marcius, 
+Attend upon Comin’us to these wars. 241 
+
+Com. It ‘s your former promise. 
+
+Mar. Sir, it is; 
+And I am constant. Titus Lartius, thou 
+Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus’ face. 
+What, art thou stiff? stand’st out? 
+
+
+Tit. No, Caius Marcius; 
+I'll lean upon one crutch and fight with t 
+other, 
+Ere stay behind this business. 
+Men. O, true-bred! 
+First Sen. Your company to the Capitol; 
+where, I know, 
+
+
+Our greatest friends attend us. 
+Tit. [To Com.] Lead you on. 
+[To Mar.] Follow Cominius; we must fol- 
+low you; 250 
+Right worthy you priority. 
+Com. Noble Marcius! 
+First Sen. [To the Citizens] Hence to 
+your homes; be gone! 
+Mar. Nay, let them follow: 
+The Volsces have much corn; take these rats 
+thither 
+To gnaw their garners. Worshipful mutiners, 
+Your valour puts well forth: pray, follow. 
+[Citizens steal away. Exeunt all but 
+Sicinius and Brutus. 
+Sic. Was ever man so proud as is this 
+Marcius ? 
+Bru. He has no equal. 
+Sic. When we were chosen tribunes for 
+the people,— 
+Bru. Mark’d you his lip and eyes? 
+Sic. Nay, but his taunts. 
+Bru. Being moved, he will not spare to 
+
+
+zird the gods. 260 
+
+
+Sic. Be-mock the modest moon. 
+Bru. The present wars devour him: he is 
+grown 
+Too proud to be so valiant. 
+
+Sic. Such a nature, 
+Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow 
+Which he treads on at noon: but I do wonder 
+His insolence can brook to be commanded 
+Under Cominius. 
+
+Bru. Fame, at the which he aims 
+In whom already he’s well graced, can not 
+Better be held nor more attain’d than by 269 
+A place below the first: for what miscarries 
+Shall be the general's fault, though he perform 
+To the utmost of « nan, and giddy censure 
+Will then cry out of Marcius ‘O, if he 
+Had borne the business!” 
+
+Sic. Besides, if things go well, 
+Opinion that so sticks on Marcius shall 
+Of his demerits rob Cominius. 
+
+Bru. Come: 
+
+Half all Cominius’ honours are to Marcius, 
+
+Though Marcius earn'd them not, and all his 
+faults 
+
+To Marcius shall be honours, though indeed 
+
+In aught he merit not. 
+
+Sic. : Let's hence, and hear 
+How the dispatch is made, and in what fashion, 
+More than his singularity, he goes 
+Upon this present action. 
+
+Bru. Let's along. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene II. *Corioli. The Senate-house. 
+
+
+Enter Tuttus Auripius and certain 
+Senators. 
+
+
+First Sen. So, your opinion is, Aufidius, 
+That they of Rome are enter’d in our counsels 
+And know how we proceed. 
+
+Auf. Is it not yours? 
+What ever have been thought on in this state. 
+That could be brought to bodily act ere Rome 
+Had circumvention? "Tis not four days gone 
+Since I heard thence; these are the words: 
+
+I think 
+I have the letter here; yes, here it is. 
+[Reads] “They have press'd a power, but it 
+is not known 
+Whether for east or west: the dearth is great; 
+The people mutinous; and it is rumour'd, 
+Cominius Marcius your old enemy, 
+Who is of Rome worse hated than of you, 
+And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman, 
+These three lead on this preparation 
+Whither ‘tis bent: most likely ‘tis for you: 
+Consider of it.’ 
+
+First Sen. Our army's in the field: 
+
+We never yet made doubt but Rome was ready: 
+To answer us, 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+Act I, Sc, III] 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+813 
+
+
+————————————————— ee rrrnrrnnnEnEEER nn 
+
+
+Auf. - Nor did you think it folly 
+
+
+had eleven die nobly for their country than 
+
+
+To keep your great pretences veil'd till when | one voluptuously surfeit out of action. 
+
+
+They needs must show themselves; which in 
+the hatching, 
+
+It seem'd, appeareddo Rome. By the discovery 
+
+We shall be shorten’d in our aim, which was 
+
+To take in many towns ere almost Rome ~ 
+
+Should know we were afoot. 
+
+Sec. Sen. Noble Aufidius, 
+Take your comm’ssion; hie you to your bands: 
+Let us alone to guard Corioli: 
+
+If they set down before's, for the remove 
+Bring up your army; but, I think, you'll find 
+They ‘ve not prepared for us. 
+
+Auf. O, doubt not that; 30 
+I speak from certainties. Nay, more, 
+
+Some parcels of their power are forth already, 
+And only hitherward. I leave your honours. 
+
+
+_If we and Caius Marcius chance to meet, 
+
+
+*Tis sworn between us we shall ever strike 
+Till one “can do no more. 
+E The gods assist you! 
+Auf. And keep your honours safe! 
+
+
+First Sen. Farewell. 
+Sec. Sen. Farewell. 
+All. Farewell. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II]. Rome. A room in Marcius’ 
+house. 
+
+
+Enter VotuMNia and Vircitia: they sel 
+them down on two low stools, and sew. 
+
+
+Vol. I pray you, daughter, sng; or express 
+yourself in a more comfortable sort: if my son 
+were my husband, I should freelier rejoice in 
+that absence wherein he won honour than in 
+the embracements of his bed where he would 
+show most love. When yet he was but tender- 
+bodied and the only son of my womb, when 
+youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his 
+way, when for a day of kings’ entreaties a 
+mother should not sell him an hour from her 
+beholding, I, considering how honour would 
+become such a person, that it was no better 
+than picture-like to hang by the wall, if renown 
+made it not stir, was pleased to let him seek 
+danger where he was like to find fame. To a 
+cruel war I sent him; from whence he re- 
+turned, his brows bound with oak. | tell thee, 
+daughter, 1 sprang not more in joy at first 
+hearing he was a man-child than now in first 
+seeing he had proved himself a man. 
+
+Vir. But had he died in the business, 
+madam; how then? 21 
+
+Vol. Then his good report should have been 
+my son; I therein would have found issue. 
+Hear me profess sincerely: had I a dozen 
+sons, each in my love alike and none less dear 
+
+
+than thine and my good Marcius, I had rather 
+
+
+Enter a Gentlewoman, 
+
+
+Gent. Madam, the Lady Valeria is come 
+to visit you. 
+
+Vir. Beseech you, give me leave to retire 
+myself. 30 
+
+
+Vol. Indeed, you shall not. 
+
+
+Methinks I hear hither your husband's drum, 
+See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair, 
+As children from a bear, the Volsces shun- 
+
+
+ning him: 
+Methinks I see him stamp thus, and call thus: 
+
+
+‘Come on, you cowards! you were got in fear, 
+Though you were born in Rome:’ his bloody 
+
+
+brow 
+With his mail’d hand then wiping, forth he 
+
+
+goes, 
+
+
+Like to a harvest-man that’s task’d to mow 
+Or all or lose his hire. 
+
+
+Vir, His bloody brow! O Jupiter, no blood! 
+
+Vol. Away, you fool! it more becomes a 
+man 
+
+Than gilt his trophy: the breasts of Hecuba, 
+
+
+When she did suckle Hector, look’d not love- 
+
+
+lier 
+Than Hector’s forehead when it spit forth 
+blood : 
+At Grecian sword, contemning. Tell Valeria, 
+We are fit to bid her welcome. _— [Exit Gent. 
+Heavens bless my lord from fell Au- 
+
+
+ius! 
+Vol. He'll beat Aufidius’ head below his 
+knee 
+And -tread upon his neck. 50 
+
+
+Enter VaLeRIA, with an Usher and Gentle- 
+woman. 
+
+
+Val, My ladies both, good day to you. 
+Vol. Sweet madam. 
+Vir. I am glad to see your ladyship. 
+Val. How do you both? you are manifest 
+house-keepers. What are you sewing here? 
+A fine spot, in good faith. How does your 
+Little son? 
+Vir. 1 thank your ladyship; well, good 
+madam. 
+Vol. He had rather see the swords, and 
+hear a drum, than look upon his schoolmaster. 
+Val. O' my word, the father’s son: I ‘Il 
+swear, ‘tis a very pretty boy. O' my troth, I 
+looked upon him o’ Wednesday half an hour 
+together: has such a confirmed countenance. 
+I saw him run after a gilded butterfly; and 
+when he caught it, he let it go again; and after 
+it again; and over and over he comes, and up 
+
+
+B14 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+i Ae 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. IV 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+again; catched it again; or whether ‘his fall | 
+
+
+enraged him, or how ‘twas, he did so set his 
+teeth and tear it; O, I warrant, how he mam- 
+mocked it! 7\ 
+
+Vol. One on's father’s moods. 
+
+Val. Indeed, la, ‘tis a noble child. 
+
+Vir. A crack, madam, 
+
+Val. Come, lay aside your stitchery; I 
+must have you play the idle huswife with me 
+this afternoon. 
+
+Vir. No, good madam; I will not out of 
+
+doors. 
+
+Val. Not out of doors! 
+
+Vol. She shall, she shall. 
+
+Vir. Indeed, no, by your patience: I ‘ll not 
+over the threshold till my lord return from 
+the wars. 
+
+Val. Fie, you confine yourself most un- 
+reasonably: come, you must go visit the good 
+lady that lies in. 
+
+Vir. 1 will wish her speedy strength, and 
+* visit her with my prayers; but I cannot go 
+thither, 
+
+Vol. Why, I pray you? 
+
+Vir. "Tis not to save labour, aor that I 
+want love. 91 
+
+Val. You would be another Penelope: yet, 
+they say, all the yarn she spun in Ulysses’ 
+absence did but fill Ithaca full of moths. 
+Come; I would your cambr'c were sensible as 
+your finger, that you might leave pricking it 
+for pity. Come, you shall go with us. 
+
+Vir. No, good madam, pardon me; in- 
+deed, I will not forth. 
+
+Val. In truth, la, go with me; and I'll 
+tell you excellent news of your husband. 101 
+
+Vir. O, good madam, there can be none yet. 
+
+Val. Verily, I do not jest with you; there 
+came news from him last night. 
+
+Vir. Indeed, madam? 
+
+Val. In earnest, it’s true; I heard a senator 
+speak it. Thus it is: the Volsces have an army 
+forth; against whom Cominius the general is 
+gone, with one part of our Roman power: your 
+lord and Titus Lartius are set down before 
+their city Corioli; they noth’ng doubt prevail- 
+ing and to make it brief wars. This is true, on 
+mine honour; and so, I pray, go with us, 
+
+Vir. Give me excuse, good madam; I will 
+obey you in every thing hereafter. 
+
+Vol. ‘Let her alone, lady: as she is now, 
+she will but disease our better mirth. 
+
+Val. In troth, I think she would. Fare 
+you well, then. Come, good sweet lady. 
+Prithee, Virgilia, turn thy solemness out o’ 
+door, and go along w'th us. 121 
+
+Vir. No, at a word, madam; indeed, I 
+must not. I wish you much mirth. 
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Val, Well, then, farewell. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Before Corioli. 
+
+
+Enter, with drum and colours, Marctus,: 
+
+
+Titus Lartius, Captains and Soldiers, To 
+them a Messenger. 
+
+
+Mar. Yonder comes news. A wager they 
+
+
+have met. 
+Lart. My horse to yours, no. 
+Mar. Tis done. 
+Lart. Agreed, 
+
+
+Mar, Say, has our general met the enemy ? 
+Mess, They lie in view; but have not spoke 
+as yet. y 
+. So, the good horse is mine. 
+I'll buy him of -you. 
+Lart. No, I'll nor sell nor give him: lend 
+you him I will 
+For half a hundred years: Summon the town. 
+Mar. How far off lie these armies? 
+Mess, Within this mle and half. 
+Mar. Then shall we hear their ‘larum, and 
+they ours. 
+Now, Mars, I prithee, make us quick in work, 
+That we with smoking swords may march 
+
+
+from hence, I] 
+To help our fielded friends! Come, blow thy 
+blast. 
+
+
+They sound a parley. Enter two Senators 
+with others on the walls. 
+Tullus Aufidius, is he within your walls? 
+First Sen, No, nor a man that fears you 
+less than he, 
+That's lesser than a little. [Drums afar off.] 
+Hark! our drums 
+Are bringing forth our youth. We'll break 
+our walls, 
+Rather than they shall pound us up: our gates, 
+Which yet seem shut, we have but pinn'd 
+with rushes; 
+They ‘ll open of themselves. [Alarum afar 
+off.] Hark you, far off! 
+There is Aufidius; list, what work he makes 
+Amongst your cloven army. 
+Mar. O, they are at it! 
+Lart, Their noise be our instruction, Lad- 
+ders, ho! 
+Enter the army of the Volsces. 
+Mar. They fear us not, but issue forth 
+their city. 
+Now put your shields before your hearts, and 
+fight 
+With hearts more proof than shields. Ad- 
+vance, brave Titus: 
+They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts, 
+Which makes me sweat with wrath. Come 
+on, my fellows: 
+He that retires, I'll take him for a Volsce, 
+And he shall feel mine edge. 
+
+
+Sr Sh Im S 
+
+
+Pe ey, Ct a 
+
+
+SSE PLE NE ye FEE ee Re 
+
+
+Act I, Sc. VJ 
+
+
+And make my wars on you: 
+
+
+on: ; 
+If you'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+815 
+
+
+Alarum. The Romans are beat back to their | Re-enter Marcius, bleeding, assaulted by the 
+
+
+trenches. Re-enter Marcius, cursing. 
+
+
+Mar. All the contagion of the south light 
+
+on you, 30 
+
+You shames of Rome? you herd of—Boils 
+and plagues 
+
+Plaster you o’er, that you may be abhorr'd 
+
+Further than seen and one infect another 
+
+Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese, 
+
+That bear the shapes of men, how have you 
+run 
+
+From slaves that apes would beat! Pluto and 
+hell! 
+
+All hurt behind; backs red, and faces pale 
+
+With fright and agued fear! Mend and 
+charge home, 
+
+Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe 
+
+look to"t: come 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+wives, 
+As they us to our trenches followed. 
+
+
+Another alarum. The Volsces fly, and 
+Marcius follows them to the gates. 
+
+
+So, now the gates are ope: now prove good 
+seconds: 
+"Tis for the followers fortune widens them, 
+Not for the fliers: mark me, and do the like. 
+[Enters the gates. 
+First Sol. Fool-hardiness; not I. 
+Nor I. 
+
+
+Sec. Sol. 
+? [Marcius is shut in. 
+First Sol. See, they have shut him in. 
+
+
+All. To the pot, 1 warrant him. 
+[Alarum continues. 
+Re-enter Titus Lartius. 
+Lart. What is become of Marcius? 
+, All. Slain, sir, doubtless. 
+
+
+’ First Sol. Following the fliers at the very 
+heels, 
+With them he enters; who, upon the sudden, 
+Clapp'd to their gates: he is himself alone; 
+To answer all the city. 
+Lart. O noble fellow! 
+Who sensibly outdares his senseless sword, 
+And, when it bows, stands up. Thou art left, 
+Marcius: 
+A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art, 
+Were not so rich a jewel, Thou wast a 
+solder 
+Even to Cato’s wish, not fierce and terrible 
+Only in strokes; but, with thy grim looks and 
+The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds, 
+Thou madest thine enemies shake, as if the 
+world 60 
+
+
+Were feverous and did tremble. 
+
+
+enemy. 
+First Sol. Look, sir. 
+Lart. O, ‘tis Marcius! 
+Let’s fetch him off, or make remain al ke. 
+{They fight, and all enter the city, 
+
+
+SceNE V. Corioli. A sireet. 
+
+
+Enter certain Romans, with spoils, 
+
+
+First Rom. This will I carry to Rome. 
+Sec. Rom. And I this. 
+Third Rom. A murrain on't! I took this 
+
+
+for s.lver. [Alarum continues still afar off. 
+
+
+Enter Marcius and Titus Lartius with 
+a trumpet. 
+
+
+Mar. See here these movers that do prize 
+their hours 
+At a crack'd drachma! 
+spoons, 
+Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would 
+Bury with those that wore them, these base 
+
+
+Cushions, leaden 
+
+
+slaves, 
+
+Ere yet the fight be done, pack up: down with 
+them! 
+
+And hark, what noise the general makes! To 
+him! 10 
+
+
+There is the man of my soul’s hate, Aufidius, 
+
+Piercing our Romans: then, valiant Titus, 
+take 
+
+Convenient numbers to make good the city; 
+
+Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will 
+hasté 
+
+To help Cominuus. 
+
+Lart. Worthy sir, thou bleed'st; 
+Thy exercise hath been too violent 
+For a second course of fight. 
+
+
+Mar. Sir, praise me not; 
+My -work hath yet not warm’d me: fare you 
+well: 
+
+
+The blood I drop is rather physical 
+Than dangerous to me: to Aufdius thus 
+I will appear, and fight. 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+Lart. Now the fair goddess, Fortune, 
+Fall deep in love with thee; and her great 
+charms 
+Misguide thy opposers’ swords! Bold gentle- 
+man, 
+Prosperity be thy page! 
+Mar. Thy friend no less 
+Than those she placeth highest! So, farewell. 
+Lart. Thou worthiest Marcius! 
+
+
+[Exit Marcius. 
+Go sound thy trsmpet in the market-place; 
+Call thither all the officers 0’ the town, 
+Where they shall know our mind: away! 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+816 CORIOLANUS [Act I, Sc. V1 
+
+Scene VI. Near the camp of Comintus. ens some to death, and some to 
+: ; : : exile; 
+
+Enter CoMINIUS, as it were in relire, with Ransoming hin, of pityingaiitenlen eee 
+soldiers, ieee 
+
+
+Com. Breathe you, my friends: well fought; 
+
+we are come off 
+
+Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands, 
+
+Nor cowardly in retire: believe me, sirs, 
+
+We shall be charged again. Whiles we have 
+struck, 
+
+By interims and conveying- gusts we have 
+heard 
+
+The charges of our friends. Ye Roman gods! 
+
+Lead their successes as we wish our own, 
+
+
+That both our powers, with smiling fronts | 
+
+
+encountering, 
+May give you thankful sacrifice. 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+Thy news? 
+
+Mess. The citizens of Corioli have issued, 
+And given to Lartius and to Marcius battle: 
+I saw our party to their trenches driven, 
+And then I came away. 
+
+Com. Though thou speak'st truth, 
+Methinks thou speak’st not well. How long 
+
+ist since? 
+
+Mess. Above an hour, my lord. 
+
+Com. "Tis not a mile; briefly we heard 
+
+their drums: 
+How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour, 
+And bring thy news so late? 
+
+Mess. Spies of the Volsces 
+Held me in chase, that I was forced to wheel 
+Three or four miles about, else had I, sir, 20 
+Half an hour since brought my report. 
+
+Com. Who's yonder, 
+That does appear as he were flay'd? O gods! 
+He has the stamp of Marcius; and I have 
+Before-time seen him thus. 
+
+Mar. [Within] Come I too late? 
+
+Com. The shepherd knows not thunder 
+
+from a tabor 
+
+More than I know the sound of Marcius’ 
+tongue 
+
+From every meaner man. 
+
+
+Enter Marcius. 
+
+
+Mar. Come I too late? 
+Com. Ay, if you come not in the blood of 
+others, 
+
+But mantled in your own. 
+
+Mar. O, let me clip ye 
+In arms as sound as when I woo'd, in heart 
+As merry as when our nuptial day was done, 
+And tapers burn'd to bedward! 
+
+Com. Flower of warriors, 
+How is’t with Titus Lartius> 
+
+Mar. As with a man busied about decrees: 
+
+
+Holding Corioli in the name of Rome, 
+Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash, 
+To let him slip at will. 
+
+
+Com. Where is that slave 
+Which told me that they had beat you to your 
+trenches > 40 
+Where is he? call him hither. 
+Mar. Let him alone; 
+He did inform the truth: but for our gentle: 
+men, 
+The common file—a plague! tribunes for 
+
+
+them! — 
+The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat as they did 
+budge 
+From rascals worse than they. 
+Com. But how prevail’d you? 
+Mar. Will the time serve to tell? I do 
+not think. 
+Where a the enemy? are you lords o’ the 
+held? 
+
+
+If not, why cease you till you are so? 
+
+
+Com. Marcius, 
+We have at disadvantage fought and did 
+Retire to win our purpose. 50 
+
+
+Mar. How lies their battle? know you on 
+which side 
+They have placed their men of trust? 
+
+Com As I guess, Marcius, 
+Theie | ends i ‘the vaward are the Antiates, 
+Of their best trust; o'er them Aufidius, 
+
+Their very heart of hope. 
+
+Mar. I do beseech you, 
+By all the battles wherein we have fought, 
+By the blood we have shed together, by the 
+
+vows 
+We have made to endure friends, that you 
+directly 
+Set me against Aufidius and his Antiates; 
+And that you not delay the present, but, 60 
+Filling the air with swords advanced and 
+
+
+darts, 
+We prove this very hour. 
+Com. Though I could wish 
+
+
+You were conducted to a gentle bath 
+And balms applied to you, yet dare I never 
+Deny your asking: take your choice of those 
+That best can aid your action. 
+
+Mar. Those are they 
+That most are will'ng. If any such be here— 
+As it were sin to doubt—that love this paint- 
+
+
+ing 
+Wherein you see me smear'd; if any fear 
+Lesser his person than an ill report; 70 
+
+
+If any think brave death outweighs bad life 
+And that his country 's dearer than himself; 
+
+
+=>. vane pecteliaian 
+
+
+ee a 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+Act I, Sc. IX] 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+817 
+
+
+Let him alone, or so many so minded, 
+Wave thus, to express his d.sposition, 
+And follow Marcius. 
+
+[They all shout and wave their swords, take 
+him up in their arms, and cast up their 
+caps. 
+
+O, me alone! make you a sword of me? 
+
+If these shows be not outward, which of you 
+But is four Volsces? none of you but is 
+Able to bear against the great Aufidius 
+
+A shield as hard as his. A certain number, 
+Though thanks to all, must I select from all: 
+
+the rest 
+
+Shall bear the business in some other fight, 
+As cause will be obey'’d. Please you to 
+
+
+~ march; 
++And four shall quickly draw out my com- 
+
+
+mand, 
+Which men are best inclined, 
+Com. arch on, my fellows: 
+
+
+Make. good this ostentation, and you shall 
+Divide in all with us. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene VII. The gates of Corioli. 
+Titus Lartius, having set a guard upon 
+Corioli, going with drum and trumpet 
+toward Cominius and Caius Marcius, 
+enters with a Lieutenant, other Soldiers, 
+and a Scout. 
+Lart. So, let the ports be guarded: keep 
+your duties, 
+As I have set them down. If I do send, 
+_ dispatch 
+Those centuries to our aid; the rest will serve 
+For a short holding: if we lose the field, 
+We cannot keep the town. 
+
+Lieu. Fear not our care, sir. 
+Lart. Hence, and shut your gates upon’s. 
+Our guider, come; to the Roman camp con- 
+
+duct us. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene VIII. A field of batile. 
+
+
+Alarum as in battle. Enter, from opposite 
+sides, Marcius and AurFipius. 
+
+
+Mar. I'll fight with none but thee; for 1 
+do hate thee 
+Worse than a promise-breaker. 
+Auf. We hate alike: 
+Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor 
+More than thy fame and envy. Fix thy foot. 
+Mar. Let the first budger die the other’s 
+slave, 
+And the gods doom him after! 
+uf. If I fly, Marcius, 
+Holloa me like a hare. 
+Mar. Within these three hours, Tullus, 
+Alone I fought in your Corioli walls, 
+And made what work I pleased: ‘tis not my 
+blood 
+
+
+Wherein thou seest me mask’d; for thy re- 
+venge 
+Wrench up thy power to the highest. 
+
+Auf. Wert thou the Hector 11 
+That was the whip of your bragg’d progeny, 
+Thou shouldst not scape me here. 
+
+[They fight and certain Volsces come in 
+the aid of Aufidius. Marcius fights till 
+they be driven in breathless. 
+
+Officious, and not valiant, you have shamed me 
+In your condemned seconds. Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IX. The Roman camp. 
+
+
+Flourish. Alarum. A retreat is sounded. 
+Flourish. Enter, from one side, COMINIUS 
+with the Romans; from the other side, 
+Marcius, with his arm in a scarf. 
+
+
+Com. If I should tell thee o’er this thy 
+
+day’s work, 
+
+Thou ‘Idst not believe thy deeds: but I ‘Il 
+report it 
+
+Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles, 
+
+Where great patricians shall attend and shrug, 
+
+I’ the end admire, where ladies shall be 
+frighted, 
+
+And, glady quaked, hear more; where the 
+dull tribunes, 
+
+That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine 
+honours, 
+
+Shall say against their hearts “We thank the 
+gods 
+
+Our Rome hath such a soldier.’ 
+
+Yet camest thou to a morsel of this feast, 10 
+
+Having fully dined before. 
+
+
+Enter Titus Lartius, with his power, from 
+the pursvit. 
+
+
+Lart. O general, 
+Here is the steed, we the caparison: 
+Hadst thou beheld— 
+
+Mar. Pray now, no more: my mother, 
+Who has a charter to extol her blood, 
+When she does praise me grieves me. I have 
+
+done 
+As you have done; that’s what I can; in- 
+duced 
+As you have been; that’s for my country: 
+He that has but effected his good will 
+Hath overta’en mine act. 
+
+Com. You shall not be 
+
+The grave of your deserving; Rome must 
+know 
+
+The value of her own: ‘twere a concealment 
+
+Worse than a theft, no less than a traduce~ 
+ment, 
+
+To hide your: doings; and to silence that, 
+
+Which, to the spire and top of praises 
+vouch’ 
+
+
+818 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+et Pe 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. X 
+
+
+Would seem but modest: therefore, I be- 
+seech you— 
+In sign of what you are, not to reward 
+What you have done—before our army hear 
+me. 
+Mar. 
+
+
+I have some wounds upon me, and 
+
+
+they smart 
+To hear themselves remember’d. 
+Com. Should they not, 
+
+
+Well might they fester ‘gainst ingratitude, 30 
+
+And tent themselves with death. Of all the 
+horses, 
+
+Whereof we have ta’en good and good store, 
+of all 
+
+The treasure in this field achieved and city, 
+
+We render you the tenth, to be ta’en forth, 
+
+Before the common distribution, at 
+
+Your only choice. 
+
+Mar. I thank you, general; 
+
+But cannot make my heart consent to take 
+A bribe to pay my sword: I do refuse it; 
+And stand upon my common part with those 
+That have beheld the doing. 
+
+[A long flourish. They all cry ‘Marcius! 
+Marcius!" cast up their caps and 
+lances: Cominius and Lartius stand 
+bare. 
+
+Mar. May these same instruments, which 
+
+you profane, 
+
+Never sound more! when drums and trumpets 
+shall 
+
+I’ the field prove flatterers, let. courts and 
+cities be 
+
+Made all of false-faced soothing! 
+
+When steel grows soft as the parasite’s silk, 
+
+Let him be made a coverture for the wars! 
+
+No more, I say! For that I have not wash'd 
+
+My nose that bled, or foil’d some debile 
+wretch,— 
+
+Which, without note, here ’s many else have 
+done,— 
+
+You shout me forth 50 
+
+In acclamations hyperbolical; 
+
+As if I loved my | ttle should be dieted 
+
+In praises sauced with lies. 
+
+Com. Too modest are you; 
+More cruel to your good report than grateful 
+To us that give you truly: by your patience, 
+If ‘gainst yourself you be incensed, we ‘Il put 
+
+you, 
+
+Like one that means his proper harm, in 
+manacles, 
+
+Then reason safely with you. Therefore, be 
+it known, 
+
+As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius 
+
+Wears this war's garland: in token of the 
+
+
+which, 60 
+My noble steed, known to the camp, I give 
+im, 
+
+
+With all his trim belonging; and from this 
+time, 
+For what he did before Corioli, call him, 
+With all applause and clamour of the host, 
+Carus Marcrus CorioLanus! Bear 
+The addition nobly ever! 
+[Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums, 
+All. Caius Marcius Coriolanus! 
+Cor. I will go wash; 
+And when my face is fava you shall perceive 
+Whether I blush or no: howbeit, I thank you. 
+1 mean to stride your steed, and at all times 
+To undercrest your good addition 
+To the fairness of my power. 
+Com. So, to our tent; 
+Where, ere we do repose, we will write 
+To Rome of our success. You, Titus Lartius, 
+Must to Corioli back: send us to Rome 
+The best, with whom we may articulate, 
+For their own good and ours. 
+Lart, 1 shall, my lord. 
+Cor. The gods begin to mock me, I, that 
+now 
+Refused most princely gifts, am bound to beg 
+Of my lord general. 
+Com. Take 't; ‘tis yours. What is 't? 81 
+Cor. I sometime lay here in Corioli 
+Ata poor man’s house; he used me kindly: 
+He cried to me; I saw him prisoner; 
+But then Aufid'us was within my view, 
+And wrath o’erwhelm’d my pity: I request 
+you 
+To ae my pdor host freedom. 
+O, well begg'd! 
+Were | lic the butcher of my son, he should 
+Be free as is the wind. Deliver him, Titus. 
+Lart. Marcius, his name? 
+Cor. By Jupiter! forgot. 
+I am weary; yea, my memory is tired. 
+Have we no wine here? 
+Com. Go we to our tent: 
+The blood upon your visage dries; ‘tis time 
+It should be look'd to: come. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+ScENE X. The camp of the Volsces. 
+
+
+A flourish. Cornets. Enter TuLLus Auripius, 
+bloody, with two or three Soldiers. 
+
+
+Auf. The town is ta’en! 
+First Sol. *Twall be deliver'd back on good 
+condition. 
+Auf. Condition! 
+I would I were a Roman; for I cannot, 
+Being a Volsce, be that I am. Condition! 
+What good condition can a treaty find 
+I’ the part that is at mercy? Five times, 
+Marcius, 
+I have fought with thee; so often hast thou 
+\ beat me, 
+
+
+: 
+
+
+——— a 
+
+
+. 
+4 
+4 
+3 
+
+
+Se 
+
+
+Act Il, Sc. I] 
+
+
+And wouldst do so, I think, should we en- 
+counter 
+
+As often as we eat. By the elements, 10 
+If e’er again I meet hm beard to beard, 
+He’s mine, or | am his: mine emulation 
+Hath not that honour in’t it had; for where 
+I thought to crush him in an equal force, 
+True sword to sword, I'll potch at him some 
+
+
+way 
+Or wrath or craft may get him. 
+First Sol. He's the devil. 
+
+
+Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle. 
+valour 's poison’d 
+With only suffering stain by him; for him 
+Shall fly out of itself: nor sleep nor sanctuary, 
+Being naked, sick, nor fane nor Capitol,, 20 
+The prayers of priests nor time of sacrifice, 
+Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up 
+
+
+My 
+
+
+_ Their rotten privilege and custom ‘gainst 
+
+
+My hate to Marcius: where I find him, were 
+It 
+At home, upon my brother's guard, even there, 
+Against the hospitable canon, would I 
+Wash my fierce hand in’s heart. Go you to 
+the city; 
+Learn how ‘tis held; and what they are that 
+must 
+Be hostages for Rome. 
+First Sol. Will not you go? 
+Auf. 1 am attended at the cypress grove: 
+I pray you—- 30 
+"Tis south the city mills—bring me word 
+
+
+thither 
+
+
+_ How the world goes, that to the pace of it 
+
+
+I may spur on my journey. 
+
+
+. First Sol. I shall, sir. 
+[Exeunt. 
+ACT II. 
+Scene I, Rome. A public place. 
+
+
+Enter MENENIUS with the two Tribunes of 
+the people, Sicinius and Brutus. 
+Men. The augurer tells me we shall have 
+news to-night. : 
+Bru. Good or bad? 
+Men. Not according to the prayer of the 
+
+
+_ people, for they love not Marcius. 
+
+
+Sic. Nature teaches beasts to know their 
+
+
+friends. 
+
+
+Men.,.Pray you, who does the wolf love? 
+
+Sic. The lamb. 
+
+Men. Ay, to devour him; as the hungry 
+plebeians would the noble Marcius. 11 
+
+Bru. He’s a lamb indeed, that baes like a 
+bear. 
+
+Men. He's a bear indeed, that lives like a 
+lamb. You two are old men: tell me one 
+
+
+thing that I shall ask you. 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+819 
+
+
+Both. Well, sir. 
+
+Men. In what enormity is Marcius poor 
+in, that you two have not in abundance? 
+
+Bru. He’s poor in no one fault, but 
+stored with all. 21 
+
+Sic. Especially in pride. 
+
+Bru. And topping all others in boasting. 
+
+Men. This is strange now: do you two 
+
+
+| know how you are censured here in the city, 
+
+
+I mean of us o’ the right-hand file? do you? 
+Both. Why, how are we censured? 
+Men. Because you talk of pride now,— 
+
+will you not be angry >? 
+
+Both. Well, well, sir, well. 30 
+
+Men. Why, ‘tis no great matter; for a very 
+little thief of occasion will rob you of a great 
+deal of patience: give your dispositions the 
+reins, and be angry at your pleasures; at the 
+least, if you take it as a pleasure to you in 
+being so. You blame Marcius for being 
+proud ? 
+
+Bru. We do it not alone, sir. 
+
+Men. I know you can do very little alone; 
+for your helps are many, or else your actions 
+would grow wondrous single: your abilities 
+are too infant-like for doing much alone. You 
+talk of pride: O that you could turn your 
+eyes toward the napes of your necks, and 
+make but an interior survey of your good 
+selves! O that you could! 
+
+Bru. What then, sir? 
+
+Men. Why, then you should discover a 
+brace of unmeriting, proud, violent, testy 
+magistrates, alias fools, as any in Rome. 
+
+Sic. Menenius, you are known well enough 
+too. 50 
+
+Men. I am known to be a humorous pa- 
+trician, and one that loves a cup of hot wine 
+with not a drop of allaying Tiber in't; said 
+to be something imperfect in favouring the 
+first complaint; hasty and tinder-l.ke upon too 
+trivial motion; one that converses more with 
+the buttock of the night than with the fore- 
+head of the morning: what | think I utter, 
+and spend my malice in my breath. Meeting 
+two such wealsmen as you are—I cannot call 
+you Lycurguses—if the drink you give me 
+touch my palate adversely, I make a crooked 
+face at it. I can’t say your worships have 
+delivered the matter well, when I find the ass 
+in compound with the major part of your 
+syllables: and though I must be content to 
+bear with those that say you are reverend 
+grave men, yet they lie deadly that tell you 
+you have good faces. If you see this in the 
+map of my microcosm, follows it that I am 
+known well enough too? what harm can your 
+bisson conspectuities glean out of this charac- 
+ter, if I be known well enough too? 
+
+
+820 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+[Acr lI, Sc. 1 
+
+
+Bru. Come, sir, come, we know you well 
+enough. 
+
+Men. You know neither me, yourselves, 
+nor any thing. You are ambitious for poor 
+knaves’ caps and legs: you wear out a good 
+wholesome forenoon in hearing a cause be- 
+tween an orange-wife and a fosset-seller; and 
+then rejourn the controversy of three pence to 
+a second day of audience. When you are 
+hearing a matter between party and party, if 
+you chance to be pinched with the colic, you 
+make faces like mummers; set up the bloody 
+flag against all patience; and, in roaring for 
+a chamber-pot, dism’ss the controversy bleed- 
+ing, the more entangled by your hearing: all 
+the peace you make in their cause is, calling 
+both the parties knaves. You are a pair of 
+strange ones. 89 
+
+Bru. Come, come, you are well under- 
+stood to be a perfecter giber for the table than 
+a necessary bencher in the Capitol. 
+
+Men. Our very priests must become mock- 
+ers, if they shall encounter such ridiculous 
+subjects as you are. When you speak best 
+unto the purpose, it is not worth the wagging 
+of your beards; and your beards deserve not 
+so honourable a grave as to stuff a botcher’s 
+cushion, or to be entombed in an ass’s pack- 
+saddle. Yet you must be saying, Marcius is 
+proud; who, in a cheap estimation, is worth 
+all your predecessors since Deucalion, though 
+peradventure some of the best of ‘em were 
+hereditary hangmen. God-den to your wor- 
+ships: more of your conversation would infect 
+my brain, being the herdsmen of the beastly 
+plebeians: I will be bold to take my leave of 
+you. [Brutus and Sicinius go aside. 
+
+
+Enter Vovumnia, ViRGILIA, and VALERIA. 
+
+
+How now, my as fair as noble ladies,—and 
+the moon, were she earthly, no nobler,— 
+whither do you follow your eyes so fast? 109 
+
+Vol. Honourable Menenius, my boy Mar- 
+cius approaches; for the love of Juno, let’s 
+
+
+go. 
+
+Men. Ha! Marcius coming home! 
+
+Vol. Ay, worthy Menenius; and with most 
+prosperous approbation. 
+
+Men. Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank 
+thee. Hoo! Marcius coming home! 
+
+Vol. Vir. Nay, ‘tis true. 
+
+Vol. Look, here's a letter from him: the 
+state hath another, his wife another; and, I 
+think, there ’s one at home for you. 120 
+
+Men. I will make my very house reel to- 
+night: a letter for me! 
+
+Vir. Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; 
+I saw ‘t. 
+
+Men. A letter for me! it gives me an estate 
+
+
+of seven years’ health; in which time | will 
+make a lip at the physician: the most sovy- 
+ereign prescription in Galen is but empiricutic, 
+and to this preservative, of no better report 
+than a horse-drench. Is he not wounded? he 
+was wont to come home wounded. 131 
+
+Vir. O, no, no, no. 
+
+Vol. O, he is wounded; I thank the gods 
+for ‘t. 
+
+Men. So do I ‘too, if it be not too much: 
+brings a’ victory in his pocket? the wounds 
+become him. 
+
+Vol. On's brows: Menenius, he comes the 
+third time home with the oaken garland. 
+
+
+Men. Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly? 
+
+
+Vol. Titus Lartius writes, they fought to- 
+gether, but Aufidius got off. 141 
+
+Men. And ‘twas time for him too, I'll 
+warrant him that: an he had stayed by him, 
+I would not have been so fidiused for all the 
+chests in Corioli, and the gold that’s in them, 
+Is the senate possessed of this? 
+
+Vol. Good ladies, let's go. Yes, yes, yes; 
+the senate has letters from the general, wherein 
+he gives my son the whole name of the war: 
+he hath in this action outdone his former deeds 
+doubly. j 151 
+
+Val. In troth, there's wondrous things 
+spoke of him. 
+
+Men. Wondrous! ay, I warrant you, and 
+not w,thout his true purchasing. 
+
+Vir. The gods grant them true! 
+
+Vol. Truet pow, wow. 
+
+Men. True! I'll be sworn they are true. 
+Where is he wounded? [To the Tribunes] 
+God save your good worships! Marcius is 
+coming home: he has more cause to be proud, 
+Where is he wounded ? 
+
+Vol. I° the shoulder and i’ the left arm: 
+there will be large cicatrices to show the peo- 
+ple, when he shall stand for his place. He 
+received in the repulse of Tarquin seven hurts 
+i’ the body. 
+
+Men. One i’ the neck, and two i’ the 
+thigh—there 's nine that I know. 
+
+Vol. He had, before this last expedition, 
+twenty-five wounds upon him. 170 
+
+Men. Now it's twenty-seven: every gash 
+was an enemy's grave. [A shout and flour- 
+ish.] Hark! the trumpets. 
+
+Vol. These are the ushers of Marcius: 
+before him he carries noise, and behind him 
+he leaves tears: 
+
+Death, that dark spirit, in’s nervy arm doth 
+lie: 
+Which, being advanced, declines, and then 
+men die. 
+A sennet. Trumpets sound. Enter Cominius 
+the general, and Titus Lartius; between 
+
+
+Ra 
+
+
+a ee 
+
+
+Act Il, Sc. I] 
+
+
+them, CoRIOLANUS, crowned with an oaken 
+garland; with Captains and Soldiers, and 
+a Herald. 
+
+
+Her. Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius 
+did fight 
+Within Corioli gates: where he hath won, 180 
+With fame, a name to Caius Marcius; these 
+In honour follows Coriolanus. 
+Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! 
+
+
+[Flourish. 
+
+
+All. Welcome to Rome, renowned Corio- 
+lanus! 
+Cor. No more of this; it does offend my 
+heart: 
+Pray now, no more. 
+Com. Look, sir, your mother! 
+
+
+Cor. O,~7 
+You have, I know, petition’d all the gods 
+For my prosperity! [Kneels, 
+
+Vol. Nay, my good soldier, up; 
+My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and 
+By deed-achieving honour newly named,— 
+What is it?—Coriolanus must I call thee?— 
+But, O, thy wife! 
+
+Cor. My gracious silence, hail! 
+Wouldst thou have laugh’d had I come cof- 
+
+fin'd home, 
+That weep’st to see me triumph? Ah, my 
+
+
+r, 
+Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear, 
+And mothers that lack sons. 
+Men Now, the gods crown thee! 
+Cor. And live you yet? [To Valeria] O 
+my sweet lady, pardon. 
+Val. 1 know not where to turn: O, wel- 
+come home: 
+And welcome, general, and ye ‘re welcome all. 
+Men. A hundred thousand welcomes. I 
+could weep 200 
+And I could laugh, I am light and heavy. 
+elcome. 
+_ A curse begin at very root on's heart, 
+That is not glad to see thee! You are three 
+
+
+That Rome should dote on: yet, by the faith | 
+
+
+of men, 
+We have some old crab-trees here at home 
+that will not 
+Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, war- 
+riors: 
+We call ‘a nettle but a nettle and 
+The faults of fools but folly. 
+Com. Ever right. 
+Cor. Menenius ever, ever. 
+Herald. Give way there, and go on! 
+Cor. [To Volumnia and Virgilia] Your 
+hand, and yours: 
+Ere in our own house I do shade my head, 
+| The good vatricians must be visited; 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+321 
+
+
+From whom I have received not only greet- 
+
+ings, 
+But with them change of honours. 
+
+ol, I have lived 
+To see inherited my very wishes 
+And the buildings of my fancy: only 
+ee "s one thing wanting, which | doubt not 
+
+ut 
+Our Rome will cast upon thee. 
+
+Cor. Know, good mother, 
+
+I had rather be their servant in my way 
+Than sway with them in theirs. 
+
+
+om. On to the Capitol! 
+[Flourish. Cornets. Exeunt in state, as 
+before. Brutus and Sicinius come for- 
+ward, 
+Bru. All tongues speak of him, and the 
+
+
+bleared sights 221 
+Are spectacled to see him: your prattling 
+nurse 
+Into a rapture lets her baby cry 
+While she chats him: the kitchen malkin pins 
+Her richest lockram "bout her reechy neck,, 
+Clambering the walls to eye him:. stalls, 
+bulks, windows, 
+Are smother’d up, leads fill’d, and ridges 
+horsed 
+With variable complexions, all agreeing 
+In earnestness to see him: seld-shown flamens 
+Do press among the popular throngs and puff 
+To win a vulgar station: our veil'd dames 231 
+Commit the war of white and damask in 
+Their nicely-gawded cheeks to the wanton 
+
+
+spoil 
+Of Phcebus’ burning kisses: such a pother 
+As if that whatsoever god who leads him 
+Were slily crept into his human powers 
+And gave him graceful posture. 
+Sic. On the sudden, 
+I warrant him consul. 
+ru. Then our office may, 
+During his power, go sleep. 
+ic. He cannot temperately transport his 
+honours 
+From where he should begin and end, but will 
+Lose those he hath won. 
+Tu. In that there's comfort. 
+IC Doubt not 
+The commoners, for whom we stand, but they 
+Upon their ancient malice will forget 
+Ne sh least cause these his new honours, 
+
+
+hich 
+
+That | Me will give them make I as little ques- 
+
+tion 
+As he is proud to do’t. 
+
+ru. I heard him swear, 
+Were he to stand for consul, never would he 
+Appear 1’ the market-place nor on him put 
+The napless vesture of humility; 
+
+
+822 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+[Acr lI, Se. Ti 
+
+
+Nor, show:ng, as the manner is, his wounds 
+To the people, beg their stink.ng breaths. 
+
+
+Sic. Tis right. 
+Bru. Xt was his word: O, he would miss it 
+rather 
+Than carry it but by the suit of the gentry 
+to him 
+And the desire of the nobles. 
+Sic. I wish no better 
+
+
+Than have him hold that purpose and to put it 
+In execution. 
+Bru. ‘Tis most like he will. 
+Sic. It shall be to him then as our good 
+wills, 
+A sure destruction. 
+
+Bru. So it must fall out 
+To him or our authorities. For an end, 260 
+We must suggest the people in what hatred 
+He still hath held them; that to’s power he 
+
+would 
+Have made them mules, silenced their plead- 
+ers and 
+Dispropertied their freedoms, holding them, 
+In human action and capac.ty, 
+Of no more soul nor fitness for the world 
+Than camels in the war, who have their pro- 
+vand 
+Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows 
+For sinking under them. 
+
+Sic. This, as you say, suggested 
+At some time when his soaring insolence 270 
+Shall touch the people—which time shall not 
+
+want, 
+If he be put upon’t; and that's as easy 
+As to set dogs on sheep—will be his fire 
+To kindle their dry stubble; and their blaze 
+Shall darken him for ever. 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+Bru. What's the matter? 
+Mess. You are sent for to the Capitol. 
+"Tis, thought 
+That Marcius shall be consul: 
+I have seen the dumb men throng to see him 
+and 
+The blind to hear him speak: matrons flung 
+
+
+gloves, 279 
+Ladies and maids their scarfs and handker- 
+chers, 
+
+
+Upon him as he pass’d: the nobles bended, 
+As to Jove’s statue, and the commons made 
+A shower and thunder with their caps and 
+
+
+shouts: 
+I never saw the like. 
+Bru. Let's to the Capitol; 
+
+
+And carry w'th us ears and eyes for the time, 
+
+
+But hearts for the event. 
+Sic, Have with you. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+The Capitol. 
+Enter two Officers, to lay cushions. 
+
+
+First Of. Come, come, they are almost 
+here. How many stand for consulships> 
+
+Sec. Off. Three, they say: but ‘tis thought 
+of every one Coriolanus will carry: it. 
+
+First Of. That's a brave fellow; but he’s 
+vengeance proud, and loves not the common 
+people. 
+
+Sec. Off. Faith, there have been many great 
+men that have flattered the people, who ne'er 
+loved them; and there be many that they have 
+loved, they know not wherefore; so that, if 
+
+
+Scene Il. The same. 
+
+
+they love they know not why, they hate upon, 
+
+
+no better a ground: therefore, for Coriolanus 
+neither to care whether they love or hate him 
+manifests the true knowledge he has in their 
+disposition; and out of his noble carelessness 
+lets them plainly see ‘t. 
+
+First Off. If he did not care whether he had 
+their leve or no, he waved indifferently ‘twixt 
+doing them neither good nor harm: but he 
+seeks their hate with greater devotion than 
+they can render it him; and leaves nothing 
+undone that may fully discover him their op- 
+posite. Now, to seem to affect the malice and 
+displeasure of the people is as bad as that 
+which he dislikes, to flatter them for their love. 
+
+Sec. Of. He hath deserved worthily of his 
+country: 
+degrees as those who, having been supple and 
+courteous to the people, bonneted, without any 
+further deed to have them at all into their 
+estimation and report: but he hath so planted 
+his honours in their eyes, ana his actions in 
+their hearts, that for their tongues io be silent, 
+and not confess so much, were a kind of in- 
+grateful injury; to report otherwise, were a 
+malice, that, giv'ng itself the lie, would pluck 
+reproof and rebuke from every ear that heard 
+
+
+it, 
+First Of, No more of him; he’s a worthy 
+man: make way, they are coming.. 
+
+
+A sennet, Enter, with Lictors before them, 
+Cominius_ the consul, MENENIUS, CoRIO- 
+LANUS, Senators, Sicinius and Brutus, 
+The Senators take their places ; the Tribunes 
+take their places by themselves. Corio- 
+LANUS stands. 
+
+
+Men, 
+and 
+To send. for Titus Lartius, it remains, 
+As the main point of this our after-meeting, 
+To gratify his noble service that 
+Hath thus stood for his country: 
+please you 
+
+
+Having determined of the Volsces 
+
+
+therefore, 
+
+
+and his ascent is not by such easy — 
+
+
+Act II, Se. UW] CORIOLANUS 823 
+Most reverend and grave elders, to desire Than one on’s ears to hear it? Proceed, 
+The present consul, and last general Cominius, 
+In-our well-found successes, to report Com. I shall lack voice: the deeds of 
+A little of that worthy work perform'd Coriolanus 
+By Caius Marcius Coriolanus, whom 50 | Should not be utter’d feebly. It is held 
+We met here both to thank and to remember | That valour is the chiefest virtue, and 
+With honours like himself. Most dignifies the haver: if it be, 
+
+First Sen. Speak, good Cominius: | The man I speak of cannot in the world 96 
+
+
+Leave nothing out for length, and make us 
+think 
+
+Rather our state's defective for requital 
+
+Than we to stretch it out. [To the Tribunes] 
+Masters o’ the people, 
+
+We do request your kindest ears, and after, 
+
+Your loving motion toward the common body, 
+
+To yield what passes here. 
+
+Sic. We are convented 
+
+. Upon a pleasing treaty, and have hearts 
+
+Inclinable to honour and advance 
+
+The theme to our assembly. 
+
+
+Bru. Which the rather 
+We shall be blest to do, if he remember 
+A kinder value of the people than 
+He hath hereto prized them at. 
+
+Men. That's off, 
+I would you rather had been silent. 
+
+you 
+To hear Cominius speak ? 
+
+Bru. Most willingly; 
+
+But yet my caution was more pertinent 
+Than the rebuke you give it. 
+
+Men. He loves your people; 
+But tie him not to be their bedfellow. 
+Worthy Cominius, speak. [Coriolanus offers 
+
+to go away.] Nay, keep your place. 70 
+First Sen. Sit, Coriolanus; never shame to 
+hear 
+What vou have nobly done. 
+
+Cor. Your honours’ pardon: 
+I had rather have my wounds to heal again 
+Than hear say how I got them. 
+
+Bru. Sir, I hope 
+My words disbench’d you not. 
+
+Cor. No, sir: yet oft, 
+When blows have made me stay, I fled from 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+that’s off; 
+
+
+Please 
+
+
+words, 
+You soothed not, therefore hurt not: but your 
+people, 
+I love them as they weigh. 
+Men. Pray now, sit down. 
+Cor. Thad rather have one scratch my 
+
+
+head i’ the sun 
+When the alarum were struck than idly sit 80 
+To hear my nothings monster'd. [Exit 
+Men. asters of the people, 
+Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter— 
+That's thousand to one good one—when you 
+now see 
+He had rather venture all his limbs for honour 
+
+
+‘Be singly counterpoised. At sixteen years, 
+
+
+When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he 
+fought 
+Beyond the mark of others: our then dictator, 
+Whom with all praise I point at, saw him 
+fight, 
+When with his Amazonian chin he drove 
+The bristled lips before him: he bestrid 
+An o’er-press'd Roman and i’ the consol’s 
+view 
+Slew three opposers: Tarquin’s self he met. 
+And struck him on his knee: in that day's 
+feats, 
+When he might act the woman in the scene. 
+He proved best man i’ the field, and for his 
+meed 10) 
+Was brow-bound with the oak. His pupil age 
+Man-enter’d thus, he waxed like a sea, 
+And in the brunt of seventeen battles since 
+He lurch’d all swords of the garland. For 
+this last, 
+Before and in Corioli, let me say, 
+I cannot speak him home: he stopp'd the 
+fliers ; 
+And by his rare example made the coward 
+Turn terror into sport: as weeds before 
+A vessel under sail, so men obey'd HO 
+And fell below his stem: his sword, death's 
+stamp, 
+Where it did mark, it took; from face to foot 
+He was a thing of blood, whose every motion 
+Was timed with dying cries: alone he enter’d 
+The mortal gate of the city, which he painted 
+With shunless destiny; aidless came off, 
+And with sudden re-inforcement struck 
+Corioli like a planet: now all's his: 
+When, by and by, the din of war gan pierce 
+His ready sense; then straight his doubled 
+spirit 126 
+Re-quicken’d what in flesh was fatigate, 
+And to the battle came he; where he did 
+Run reeking o’er the lives of men, as if 
+*Twere a perpetual spoil: and till we call’d 
+Both field and city ours, he never stood 
+To ease his breast with panting. 
+Men.” Worthy man! 
+First Sen. He cannot but with measure fit 
+the honours 
+Which we devise him. 
+Com. Our spoils he kick’d at, 
+And look’d upon things precious as they were 
+
+
+B24 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+(ase Wi, Scsih - 
+
+
+The common real ras. the LORER he covets of our proceedings here: on the market-place, 
+
+
+less 
+Than misery itself would give; rewards 
+His deeds with doing them, and is content 
+To spend the time to end it, 
+Men, He's right noble: 
+Let him be call’d for, 
+
+
+First Sen. Call Coriolanus. 
+Og. He doth appear, 
+
+
+Re-enter CoRIOLANUS, 
+
+
+Men, The senate, Coriolanus, are well 
+pleased 
+To make thee consul, 
+Cor. I do owe them still 
+My life and seater: 
+Men. It then remains 
+
+
+That you do speak to the people, 
+
+Cor. I do beseech you, 
+Let me o ‘erleap that custom, for I cannot 140 
+Put on the gown, stand naked and entreat 
+
+them, 
+For my wounds’ sake, to give their suffrage: 
+please you 
+That I may pass this doing. 
+ic. Sir, the people 
+Must have their voices; neither will they bate 
+One jot of ceremony. 
+
+Men. Put them not to't: 
+
+Pray you, go fit you to the customs and 
+Take to you, as your predecessors have, 
+Your honour with your form, 
+
+Cor. It is a part 
+That [ shall blush in acting, ‘and might well 
+Be taken from the people, 
+
+
+Bru. Mark you that? 150 
+“Cor. To brag unto them, thus | did, and 
+thus; 
+
+
+Show. them the unaching scars which I should 
+hide, 
+As if I had received them for the hire 
+Of their, breath only! 
+Men. Do not stand upon 't, 
+We recommend to you, tribunes of the peo- 
+ple, 
+Our purpose to them: and to our noble con- 
+sul 
+Wish we all joy and honour. 
+Senators. To Coriolanus come all joy and 
+honour! [Flourish of cornets. Exeunt all 
+but Sicinius and Brutus. 
+
+
+Bru. You see how he intends to use the 
+people. 
+
+Sic. May they perceive’s intent! He will 
+require them, 160 
+
+
+As if he did contemn what he requested 
+Should be in them to give. 
+Bru. Come, we'll inform them 
+
+
+130 | 1 know, they do attend us. 
+
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene Il]. The same. The Forum. 
+Enter seven or eight Citizens. 
+
+
+First Cit. Once, if he do require our voices, 
+we ought not to deny him, 
+
+Sec. Cit. We may, sir, if we will. 
+
+Third Cit, We have power in ourselves to 
+do it, but it is a power that we have no power 
+to do; for if he show us his wounds and tell 
+us his deeds, we are to put our tongues into 
+those wounds and speak for them; so, if he 
+tell us his noble deeds, we must also tell him 
+our noble acceptance of them. Ingratitude is, 
+monstrous, and for the multitude to be in- 
+grateful, were to make a monster of the mul- 
+titude; of the which we being members, — 
+ld bring ourselves te be monstrous mem- 
+
+ers. 
+
+First Cit, And to make us no better thought 
+of, a little help will serve; for once we stood 
+up about the corn, he himself stuck not to call 
+us the many-headed multitude. 
+
+Third Cit. We have been called so of © 
+many; not that our heads are some brown, 
+some black, some auburn, some bald, but that 
+our wits are so diversely coloured: and truly I 
+think if all our wits were to issue out of one 
+skull, they would fly east, west, north, south, 
+dndbthei consenttet one direct way should be 
+at once to all the points o’ the compass. 
+
+Sec. Cit, Think you so? Which way do 
+you judge my wit would fly> 
+
+Third Cit. Nay, your wit will not so soon 
+out as another man’s will; ‘tis strongly 
+wedged up in a block-head, but if it were at 
+liberty, “twould, sure, southward, ¥ 
+
+Sec. Cit. Why that way? 
+
+Third Cit. To lose itself in a fog, where 
+being three parts melted away with rotten 
+dews, the fourth would return for conscience 
+sake, to help to get thee a wife, 
+
+Sec. Cit. You are never without 
+tricks: you may, you may. 
+
+Third Cit. Are you all resolved to give 
+your voices? But that’s no matter, the 
+greater part carries it. I say, if he would in- 
+cline to the people, there was never a worthier 
+man. 
+
+
+your 
+
+
+Enter CorioLanus in a gown of humility, 
+with MENENIUS. 
+
+
+Here he comes, and in the gown of humility: 
+mark his behaviour. We are not to stay all 
+together, but to come by him where he stands, 
+by ones, by twos, and by threes. He's to 
+make his requests by particulars; wherein 
+
+
+ee ee ee ee ee eee 
+
+
+[every one of us has a single honour, in giving © 
+
+
+him our own voices with our own tongues: 
+therefore follow me, and I'll direct you how 
+~ you shall go by him. 
+
+All, Content, content. [Exeunt citizens, 
+Men. O sir, you are not right: have you 
+; not known 
+
+*The worthiest men have done 't? 
+
+Cor. What must I say? 
+‘I pray, sir,—Plague upon't! I cannot bring 
+My tongue to such a pace:—'Look, sir, my 
+wounds! 
+
+I got them in my country’s service, when 
+Some certain of your brethren roar’d and ran 
+_ From the noise of our own drums.’ 
+
+q Men. O me, the gods! 
+_ You must not speak of that: you must desire 
+
+
+* them 61 
+_ To think upon you. 
+i ~ Cor. Think upon me! hang ‘em! 
+
+
+_ I would they would forget me, I.ke the virtues 
+Which our divines lose by ‘em. 
+
+Men. You ‘ll mar all: 
+I'll leave you: pray you, speak to ‘em, I pray 
+
+
+5 you, 
+In wholesome manner. [Exit 
+Pn Gor, Bid them wash their faces 
+
+
+And keep their teeth clean. [Re-enter two of 
+the Citizens.) So, here comes a brace. 
+[Re-enter a third Citizen.] 
+You know the cause, sir, of my standing here. 
+_ Third Cit. We do, sir; tell us what hath 
+‘brought you to't. 70 
+_ Cor. Mine own desert. 
+- Sec, Cit. Your own desert! 
+~ Cor, Ay, but not mine own desire. 
+_ Third Cit. How not your own desire ? 
+~ Cor. No, sir, ‘twas never my desire yet to 
+trouble the poor with begging. 
+Third Cit. You must think, if we give you 
+any thing, we hope to gain by you. 
+Cor, Well then, I pray, your price o’ the 
+‘consulship > 80 
+_ First Cit. The price is to ask it kindly, 
+Cor. Kindly! Sir, I pray, let me ha't: I 
+‘have wounds to show you, which shall be 
+ours in private. Your good voice, sir; 
+what say you? 
+Sec, Cit. You shall hat, worthy sir. 
+~ Cor. A match, sir. There's in all two 
+orthy voices begged. I have your alms: 
+adieu. © 
+Third Cit. But this is something odd. 
+Sec. Cit. And ‘twere to give again,—but 
+‘tis no matter. [Exeunt the three Citizens. 90 
+
+
+Re-enter two other Citizens. 
+
+
+Cor, Pray you now, if it may stand with 
+the tune of your voices that I may be consul, 
+I have here the customary gown. 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+Fourth Cit, You have deserved nobly of 
+your country, and you have not deserved 
+nobly. 
+
+Cor. Your enigma? 
+
+Fourth Cit, You have been a scourge to 
+her enemies, you have been a rod to her 
+friends; you have not indeed loved the com- 
+mon people, 
+
+Cor. You should account me the more vir- 
+tuous that I have not been common in my 
+love. I will, sir, flatter my sworn brother, the 
+people, to learn a dearer estimation of them; 
+‘tis a condition they account gentle: and since 
+the wisdom of their choice is rather to have 
+my hat than my heart, 1 will practice the 
+insinuating nod and be off to them most 
+counterfeitly; that is, sir, I will counterfeit the 
+bewitchment of some popular man and give it 
+bountiful to the desirers. Therefore, beseech 
+you, I may be consul. 
+
+Fifth Cit. We hope to find you our friend; 
+and therefore give you our voices heartily. 
+
+Fourth Cit. You have received many 
+wounds for your country. 
+
+Cor. I will not seal your knowledge with 
+showing them. I will make much of your 
+voices, and so trouble you no further. 
+
+
+Both Cit. The gods give you joy, su, 
+heartily! Exeuni. 
+Cor. Most sweet voices! 
+Better it is to die, better to starve, 120 
+
+
+Than crave the hire which first we do deserve. 
+
+Why in this woolvish toge should I stand 
+here, 
+
+To beg of Hob and D’ck, that do appear, 
+
+Their needless vouches? Custom calls me 
+to't: 
+
+What custom wills, in all things should we 
+do 't, 
+
+The dust on antique time would lie unswept, 
+
+And mountainous error be too highly heap! 
+
+For truth to o'er-peer. Rather than fool it so, 
+
+Let the high office and the honour go 
+
+To one that would do this. I am_ half 
+through; 
+
+The one part suffer'd, the other will Ido, 131 
+
+
+Re-enter three Citizens more. 
+
+
+Here come more voices. 
+
+Your voices: for your voices I have fought; 
+
+Watch'd for your voices; for your voices bear 
+
+Of wounds two dozen odd; battles thrice six 
+
+I have seen and heard of; for your voices 
+have 
+
+Done many things, some less, some more: 
+your voices: 
+
+
+Indeed, I would be consul. 
+
+
+Sixth Cit. 
+
+
+go without any honest man’s voice. 
+
+
+He has done nobly, and camuot 
+
+
+140 
+
+
+826 
+
+
+Seventh Cit. Therefore let him be consul: 
+the gods give him joy, and make him good 
+friend to the people! 
+
+All Cit. Amen, amen. 
+
+noble consul! 
+
+Cor. Worthy voices! 
+
+
+God save thee, 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Re-enter MENENIUS, with BRUTUS and 
+SICINIUS, 
+
+
+Men. You have stood your limitation; and 
+the tribunes 
+Exndue you with the people’s voice: remains 
+That, in the official marks invested, you 
+Anon do meet the senate. 
+Cor. Is this done? 
+Sic. The custom of request you have dis- 
+charged: 150 
+Ltrs people do admit you, and are summon'd 
+To meet anon, upon your approbation. 
+Cor. Where? at the senate-house? 
+Sic. There, Coriolanus. 
+Cor. May I change these garments? 
+Sic. You may, sir. 
+Cor. That I'll straight do;: and, knowing 
+myself again, 
+Repair to the senate-house. 
+Men. I'll keep you company. 
+along? 
+Bru. We stay here for the people. 
+Ste, Fare you well. 
+[Exeunt Coriolanus and Menenius. 
+He has it now, and by his looks methinks 
+‘Tis warm at’s heart. 160 
+Bru, With a proud heart he wore his 
+humble weeds. 
+Will you dismiss the people? 
+
+
+Will you 
+
+
+Re-enter Citizens. 
+
+
+Sic. How now, my masters! have you 
+chose this man? 
+First Cit. He has our voices, sir. 
+
+
+Bru, We pray the gods he may deserve 
+
+
+your loves. 
+Sec, Cit. Amen, sir: to my poor unworthy 
+notice, 
+
+
+He mock’d us when he begg'd our voices. 
+Third Cit. Certainly 
+He flouted us downright. 
+First Cit. No, ‘tis his kind of speech: he 
+did not mock us. 
+See. Cit. Not one amongst us, save your- 
+
+
+self, but says 170 
+
+
+He used us scornfully: he should have 
+show'd us 
+
+His marks of merit, wounds received for ’s 
+country. 
+
+
+Sic. Why, so he did, I am sure. 
+
+
+sacs * 
+Citizens. No, no; no man saw ‘em, 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+{Act I, Sc, Ill 
+
+
+Third Cit. He said he had wounds, which 
+he could show in private; 
+And with his hat, thus waving it in scorn, 
+‘I would be consul,’ says he: ‘aged custom, 
+But by your voices, will not so permit me; 
+Your voices therefore,” When we granted that, 
+Here was ‘I thank you for your voices: 
+thank you: 
+Your most sweet voices: now you have left 
+your voices, 
+I have no further with you.’ 
+mockery ? 
+Sic. Why either were you ignorant to see 't, 
+Or, seeing it, of such childish friendliness 
+
+
+Was not this 
+
+
+To yield your voices? Re 
+
+
+Bru. Could you not have told him 
+As you were lesson’d, when he had no power, 
+But was a petty servant to the state, 
+
+He was your enemy, ever spake against 
+Your liberties and the charters that you bear 
+I’ the body of the weal; and now, arriving 
+A place of potency and sway o’ the state, 
+If he should still malignantly remain 
+Fast foe to the plebeii, your voices might 
+Be curses to yourselves? You should have 
+said 
+That as his worthy deeds did claim no less 
+Than what he stood for, so his gracious nature 
+Would think upon you for your voices and 
+Translate his malice towards you into love, 
+Standing your friendly lord. 
+Sic. Ke Thus to have said, 
+As you were fore-advised, had touch'd his 
+spirit 199 
+And tried his inclination; from him pluck’d 
+Either his: gracious promise, which you might, 
+As cause had call’d you up, have held him to; 
+Or else it would have gall'’d his surly nature, 
+Which easily endures not article 
+Tying him to aught; so putting him to rage, 
+You should have ta’en the advantage of his 
+
+
+choler 
+And pass’d him unelected. 
+Bru. Did you perceive 
+
+
+He did solicit you in free contempt 
+
+When he did need your loves, and do you think 
+
+That his contempt shall not be bruising to you, 
+
+When he hath power to crush? Why, had 
+your bodies 211 
+
+No heart among you? or had you tongues to 
+cry 
+
+Against the rectorship of judgement? 
+
+Sic. Have you 
+Ere now denied the asker? and now again 
+Of him that did not ask, but mock, bestow 
+Your sued-for tongues? 
+
+Third Cit. He's not confirm'd; we may 
+
+deny him yet. 
+
+Sec. Cit. And will deny him: 
+
+
+t 
+
+
+es 
+
+
+oo a 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+~ Act Il, Se. 1] 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+. CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+827 
+
+
+I'll have five hundred voices of that sound. 
+First Cit. I twice five hundred and their 
+friends to piece ‘em. 220 
+Bru. Get you hence instantly, and tell those 
+friends, 
+They have chose a consul that will from 
+them take 
+Their liberties: make them of no more voice 
+Than dogs that are as often beat for barking 
+As therefore kept to do so. 
+Sic. Let them assemble, 
+And on a safer judgement all revoke 
+Your ignorant election; enforce his pride, 
+And his old hate unto you; besides, forget net 
+With what contempt he wore the humble weed, 
+How in his suit he scorn'd you; but your loves, 
+Thinking upon his services, took from you 231 
+The apprehension of his present portance, 
+Which most gibingly, ungravely, he did fashion 
+After the inveterate hate he bears you. 
+Bru. Lay 
+A fault on us, your tribunes; that we labour'd, 
+No impediment between, but that you must 
+Cast your election on him. 
+Sic. Say, you chose him 
+More after our commandment than as guided 
+By your own true affections, and that your 
+minds, 
+
+Pre-occup ed with what you rather must do 
+
+Than what you should, made you against the 
+grain 241 
+
+To voice him consul: lay the fault on us. 
+
+Bru. Ay, spare us not. Say we read lec- 
+
+tures to you, 
+
+How youngly he began to serve his country, 
+
+How long continued, and what stock he springs 
+of, 
+
+The noble house o’ the Marcians, from whence 
+came 
+
+That Ancus Marcius, Numa’s daughter's son, 
+
+
+Who, after great Hostilius, here was king; 
+
+
+Of the same house Publius and Quintus were, 
+That our best water brought by conduits hither; 
+And [Censorinus,] nobly named so, 251, 
+Twice being [by the people chosen] censor, 
+
+Was his great ancestor. 
+
+Sic One thus descended, 
+That hath beside well in his person wrought 
+To be set high in place, we did commend 
+To your remembrances: but you have found, 
+Scaling ‘his present bearing with his past, 
+That he’s your fixed enemy, and revoke 
+Your sudden approbation. 
+
+Bru. Say, you ne'er had done 't— 
+Harp on that st'll—but by our putting on: 
+And presently, when you have drawn your 
+
+
+number, 
+Repair to the Capitol. 
+All, We will so: almost all 
+
+
+Repent in their election. [Exeunt Citizens. 
+
+Bru. Let them go on; 
+This mutiny were better put in hazard, 
+Than stay, past doubt, for greater: 
+If, as his nature is, he fall in rage 
+With their refusal, both observe and answer 
+ne Maley of his anger. 
+
+To the Capitol, come: 
+We rll be there before the stream o’ the 
+people; 
+
+And this shall seem, as partly ‘tis, their own, 
+Which we have goaded onward. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT III. 
+
+
+Scene I. Rome. A street, 
+
+
+Cornets. Enter CorioLaNnus, MENENIUS, ail 
+the Gentry, Cominius, Titus Lartius, 
+and other Senators. 
+
+Cor. Tullus Aufidius then had made new 
+head ? 
+
+Lart. He had, my lord; and that it was 
+which caused 
+
+Our swifter composition. 
+
+
+Cor. So then the Volsces stand but as at 
+first, 
+Ready, when time shall prompt them, to 
+make road 
+Upon 's again. 
+Com. They are worn, lord consul, so, 
+
+
+That we shall hardly in our ages see 
+Their banners wave again. 
+Cor. Saw you Aufdius? 
+Lart. On safe-guard he came to me; and 
+did curse 
+Against the Volsces, for they had so vilely 10 
+Yielded the town: he is retired to Antium. 
+
+
+Cor. Spoke he of me? 
+
+Lart. He did, my lord. 
+Cor. ¢ How? what? 
+Lart. How often he had met you, sword 
+
+
+to sword; 
+That of all things upon the earth he hated 
+Your person most, that he would pawn his 
+fortunes 
+To hopeless restitution, so he might 
+Be call’d your vanquisher. 
+
+
+Cor. At Antium lives he? 
+Lart. At Antium. 
+Cor. I wish I had a cause to seek him there, 
+
+
+To oppose his hatred fully. Welcome home. 
+
+
+Enter Sicintus and Brutus. 
+
+
+Behold, these are the tribunes of the people, 
+
+The tongues o’ the common mouth: I do 
+despise them; 
+
+For they do prank them in authority, 
+
+
+| Against all noble sufferance. 
+
+
+828 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+[Acr Il, Sc. 1 
+
+
+Sic. Pass no further. 
+Cor. Ha! what is that? 
+
+
+Bru. It will be dangerous to go on: no 
+
+
+further. 
+Cor. What makes this change? 
+Men. The. matter? 
+
+
+Com. Hath he not pass’d the noble and 
+
+
+the common? 
+Bru. Cominius, no. 
+Cor. Have I had children’s voices? 
+
+
+the market-place. 
+
+Bru. The people are incensed against him. 
+Sic. Stop, 
+Or ail will fall in broil. 
+Cor. Are these your herd? 
+Must these have voices, that can yield them 
+now 
+
+And straight disclaim their tongues? 
+are your offices? 
+
+You being their mouths, why rule you not 
+their teeth? 
+
+Have you not set them on? 
+
+Men. Be calm, be calm. 
+
+fon It is a purposed thing, and grows by 
+
+ot, 
+To curb the will of the nobility: 
+Suffer 't, and live with such as cannot rule 40 
+Nor ever will be ruled. 
+
+Bru. Call "t not a plot: 
+The people cry you mock’d them, and of late, 
+When corn was given them gratis, you rep ned; 
+Scandal'd the suppliants for the people, call'd 
+
+them 
+Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness. 
+
+Cor. Why, this was known before. 
+
+Bru, Not to them all. 
+. Have you inferm’d them sithence? 
+
+Bru. How! I inform them! 
+
+Com. You are like to do such business. 
+
+Bru. Not unlike, 
+Each way, to better yours. 
+
+Cor. Why then should I be consul? 
+
+yond clouds, 
+Let me deserve so ill as you, and make me 
+Your fellow tribune. 
+
+Sic. You show too much of that 
+
+For which the people stir: if you will pass 
+
+
+By 
+50 
+
+
+To where you are bound, you must inquire. 
+
+
+your way, 
+
+
+Which you are out of, with a gentler spirit, | 
+
+
+Or never be so noble as a consul, 
+Nor yoke with him for tribune. 
+Men. Let’s be calm. 
+Com. The people are abused; set on. This 
+paltering 
+Becomes not Rome, nor has Coriolanus 
+
+
+Deserved this so dishonour'd rub, laid falsely 
+I’ the plain way of his merit. 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+First Sen. Vribunes, give way; he shall to 
+
+
+What 
+
+
+Cor. Tell me of corn! 
+This was my speech, and I will speak ’t again— 
+Men. Not now, not now. 
+First Sen. Not in this heat, sir, now 
+Cor. Now, as I live, I will. My nobler 
+friends, 
+I crave their pardons: 
+For the mutable, rank-scented many, let them 
+Regard me as I do not flaiter, and 
+Therein pehold themselves: I say again, 
+In soothing them, we nourish ‘gainst our senate 
+The cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition, 70 
+
+
+Which we ourselves have plough’d for, sow'd, — 
+
+
+and scatter'd, 
+
+
+By mingling them with us, the honour’d — 
+
+
+number, 
+
+Who lack not virtue, no, nor power, but that 
+Which they have given to beggars. 
+
+Men. 
+
+First Sen, No more words, we beseech you, 
+
+Cor, How! no more! 
+As for my country I have shed my blood, 
+Not fearing outward force, so shall my lungs 
+
+
+Well, no more, — 
+
+
+Coin words till their decay against those — 
+
+
+measles, ; 
+Which we disdain should tetter us, 
+The very way to catch them. 
+Bru. 
+As if you were a god to punish, not 
+A man of their infirmity. 
+Sic. "Twere well 
+We let the people know 't. 
+en. = What, what? his choler? 
+Cor. Choler! 
+ere I as patient as the midnight sleep, 
+By Jove! "twould be my mind! 
+SiGe It is a mind 
+That shall remain a poison where it is, 
+Not poison any further. 
+Cor. Shall remain! 
+Hear you this Triton of the minnows? mark 
+
+
+you 
+His absolute ‘shall’? 
+Com. "Twas from the canon, 
+Cor. ‘Shall’! 90 
+O good but most unwise patricians! why, 
+You grave but reckless senators, have you thus 
+Given Hydra here to choose an officer, 
+That with his peremptory ‘shall,’ being but 
+The horn and noise o’ the monster's, wants 
+not spirit 
+To say he'll turn your current in a ditch, 
+
+
+| And make your channel his? If he have power, 
+
+
+Then vail your ignorance; if none, awake 
+Your dangerous lenity. If you are learn'd, 
+
+
+| Be not as common fools; if you are not, 1:00 
+
+
+Let them have cushions by you. You are 
+plebeians, 
+
+
+If they be senators: and they are no less, 
+
+
+You speak o’ the people, 80 — 
+
+
+yet sought — 
+
+
+f 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+Se ee ee ee ee 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+eo 
+
+
+Aer Ill, Se. I] 
+
+
+Ve 
+_ When, both your voices blended, the great’st 
+
+
+- taste 
+sf Most palates theirs. They choose their magis- 
+4g trate, 
+
+
+i And such a one as he, who puts his ‘shall,’ 
+
+_ His popular “shall,” against a _graver bench 
+
+_ Than ever frown'd in Greece. By Jove himself! 
+
+It makes the consuls base: and my soul aches 
+
+_ To know, when two authorities are up, 
+
+_ Neither supreme, how soon confusion 110 
+_ May enter ‘twixt the gap of both and take 
+
+_ The one by the other. 
+
+Com. Well, on to the market-place. 
+
+Cor. Whoever gave that counsel, to give 
+
+i forth : 
+
+The corn o’ the storehouse gratis, as "twas used 
+
+* Sometime in Greece,— 
+
+N Men. Well, well, no more of that. 
+-_. Cor. Though there the people had more 
+- absolute power, 
+
+_ I say, they nourish’d disobedience, fed 
+The ruin of the state. 
+
+Bru. Why, shall the people give 
+
+_ One that speaks thus their voice? 
+
+me. Cor. I'll give my reasons, 
+More worthier than their voices. They know 
+
+the corn | 120 
+
+_ Was not our recompense, resting well assured 
+They ne'er did service for 't: being press'd to 
+
+q the war, 
+
+Even when the navel of the state was touch’d, 
+_ They would not thread the gates. This kind 
+
+of service 
+
+Did not deserve corn gratis. 
+
+war. 
+
+_ Their mutinies and revolts, wherein they 
+
+show'd 
+
+~ Most valour, spoke not for them: the accu- 
+
+sation 
+
+_ Which they have often made against the senate, 
+
+All cause unborn, could never be the motive 
+
+~ Of our so frank donation. Well, what then? 
+
+How shall this bisson multitude digest 131 
+
+_ The senate’s courtesy? Let deeds express 
+
+What's like to be their words: “We did re- 
+
+. quest it; 
+
+_ We are the greater poll, and in true fear 
+_ They gave us our demands.’ Thus we debase 
+
+_ The nature of our seats and make the rabble 
+
+~ Call our cares fears; which will in time 
+
+Break ope the locks o’ the senate and bring in 
+
+__ The crows to peck the eagles. 
+
+Men. Come, enough. 
+
+Bru. Enough, with over-measure. 
+
+mh Cor, No, take more: 140 
+
+_ What may be sworn by, both divine and human, 
+
+_ Seal what I end withal! This double worship, 
+
+_ Where one part does disdain with cause, the 
+
+other 
+
+
+Being i’ the 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS — 
+
+
+829 
+
+
+Insult without all reason, where gentry, title, 
+wisdom, 
+Cannot conclude but by the yea and no 
+Of general ignorance,—it must omit 
+Real necessities, and give way the while 
+To unstable slightness: purpose so barr’d, it 
+follows, 
+Nothing is done to purpose. Therefore, be- 
+seech you,— 
+You that will be less fearful than discreet, 150 
+That love the fundamental part of state 
+More than you doubt the change on’t, that 
+prefer 
+A noble |:fe before a long, and wish 
++ To jump a body with a dangerous physic 
+That's sure of death without it, at once pluck 
+out 
+The multitudinous tongue; let them not lick 
+The sweet which is their poison: your dis- 
+honour 
+Mangles true judgement and bereaves the state 
+Of that integrity which should become 't, 
+Not having the power to do the good it would, 
+For the ill which doth control 't. 
+Bru. Has said enough. 161 
+Sic. Has spoken like a traitor, and shall 
+answer 
+As traitors do. 
+Cor. Thou wretch, despite o’erwhelm thee! 
+What should the people do with these bald 
+tribunes > 
+On whom depending, their obedience fails 
+To the greater bench: in a rebellion, 
+When what’s not meet, but what must be, 
+was law, 
+Then were they chosen: in a better hour, 
+Let what is meet be said it must be meet, 170 
+And throw their power i’ the dust. 
+Bru. Manifest treason! 
+Sic. This a consul? no. 
+
+
+Bru. The zdiles, ho! 
+Enter an FEdile. 
+
+
+Let him be apprehended, 
+Sic. Go, call the people: [Exit /Edile] 
+in whose name myself 
+Attach thee as a traitorous innovator, 
+A foe to the public weal: obey, I charge thee, 
+And follow to thine answer. 
+Cor. Hence, old goat! 
+Senators, &c. We'll surety him. 
+
+
+Com. Aged sir, hands off. 
+Cor. Hence, rotten thing! or I shall shake 
+thy bones 
+Out of thy garments. 
+Sic. Help, ye citizens! 180 
+Enter a rabble of Citizens (Plebeians), with 
+
+
+the FEdiles. 
+
+
+830 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+————  — —SSSSsSSSSsssSSssSsSSSSSsSS 
+
+
+Men. On both sides more respect. 
+Sic. Here's he that would take from you 
+all your power. 
+Bru. Seize him, ediles! 
+Citizens. Down with him! down with him! 
+Senators, &c. Weapons, weapons, weapons! 
+[They all bustle about Coriolanus, crying 
+*Tribunes!’ ‘Patricians!’ ‘Citizens!’ ‘What, 
+ho!’ 
+‘Sicinius!’ ‘Brutus!’ ‘Coriolanus!’ ‘Citizens!’ 
+‘Peace, peace, peace!’ ‘Stay, hold, peace!” 
+Men. What is about to be? I am out of 
+
+
+breath; 
+Confusions near; I cannot speak. You, 
+tribunes 190 
+
+
+To the people! Coriolanus, patience! 
+Speak, good Sicinius. 
+Sic. Hear me, people; peace! 
+Citizens, Let's hear our tribune: peace! 
+Speak, speak, speak. 
+
+Sic. You are at point to lose your liberties: 
+Marcius would have all from you; Marcius, 
+Whom late you have named for consul. 
+
+en. Fie, fie, fie! 
+This is the way to kindle, not to quench. 
+
+First Sen. To unbuild the city and to lay 
+
+all flat. 
+
+Sic. What is the city but the people? 
+
+Citizens. True, 
+The people are the city. 200 
+
+Bru. By the consent of all, we were es- 
+
+tablish'd 
+The people's magistrates. 
+
+Citizens. You so remain, 
+
+Men. And so are like to do. 
+
+Com. That is the way to lay the city flat; 
+To bring the roof to the foundation, 
+
+And bury all, which yet distinctly ranges, 
+In heaps and piles of ruin. 
+
+Sic. This deserves death. 
+
+Bru. Or let us stand to our authority, 
+
+Or let us lose it. We do here pronounce, 
+Upon the part o’ the people, in whose power 
+We were elected theirs, Marcius is worthy 
+Of present death. 
+
+Sic. Therefore lay hold of him; 
+Bear him to the rock Tarpeian, and from 
+
+thence 
+Into destruction cast him. 
+
+Bru. FEdiles, seize him! 
+
+Citizens. Yield, Marcius, yield! 
+
+Men. Hear me one word; 
+Beseech you, tribunes, hear me but a word. 
+
+Ed, Peace, peace! 
+
+Men. [To Brutus] Be that you seem, truly 
+
+your country’s friend, 
+And temperately proceed to what you would 
+Thus violently redress. 
+
+
+Bru. Sir, ¥ ose cold ways, 220 
+
+
+That seem like prudent helps, are very poi- 
+
+
+sonous 
+Where the disease is violent. Lay hands 
+upon him, 
+And bear him to the rock. 
+Cor. No, I'll die here. 
+
+
+[Drawing his sword, 
+
+
+There's some among you have beheld me - 
+
+
+fighting: 
+Come, try upon yourselves what you have 
+seen me. : 
+Men. Down with that sword! Tribunes, 
+withdraw awhile. 
+Bru. Lay hands upon him. 
+Men. 
+You that be noble; help him, young and old! 
+Citizens. Down with him, down with him! 
+[Jn this mutiny, the Tribunes, the f&diles, 
+and the People, are beat in. 
+Men. Go, get you to your house; be gone, 
+
+
+away! 
+All will be naught else. 
+Sec. Sen. Get you gone. 
+Com. Stand fast; 
+
+
+We have as many friends as enemies, 
+
+Men, Shall it be put to that? 
+
+First Sen. The gods forbid! 
+I prithee, noble friend, home to thy house; 
+Leave us to cure this cause. 
+
+Men, For ‘tis a sore upon us, 
+
+
+You cannot tent yourself: be gone, beseech | 
+
+
+you. 
+Com. Conte, sir, along with us. 
+Cor. I would they were barbarians—as 
+they are, 
+Though in Rome litter’'d—not Romans—as 
+they are not, 
+Though calved i’ the porch o’ the Capitol— 
+Men. Be gone; 240 
+Put not your worthy rage into your tongue; 
+One time will owe another. 
+
+
+Cor. On fair ground 
+I could beat forty of them. 
+Men I could myself 
+
+
+Take up a brace o’ the best of them; yea, the 
+two tribunes. 
+
+Com. But now ‘tis odds beyond arithmetic; 
+And manhood is call’d foolery, when it stands 
+Against a falling fabric. Will you hence, 
+Before the tag return? whose rage doth rend 
+Like interrupted waters and o’erbear 
+What they are used to bear. 
+
+Men. Pray you, be gone: 25C 
+I'll try whether my old wit be in request 
+With those that have but little: this must be 
+
+patch'd 
+With cloth of any colour. 
+Com. Nay, come away. 
+[Exeunt Coriolanus, Cominius, and others. 
+
+
+[Acr' I], Sc, I 
+
+
+Help Marcius, help,, 
+
+
+Se 
+
+
+& Tiescst] CORIOLANUS 831 
+ha eee 
+A Patrician. This man has marr'd his 
+
+fortune. 
+Men. His nature is too noble for the world: 
+
+
+He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, 
+Or Jove for 's power to thunder. His heart's 
+
+
+Towards her deserved children is enroll’d 
+In Jove’s own book, like an unnatural dam 
+Should now eat up her own! 
+
+Sic. He's a disease that must be cut away. 
+
+
+Men. O, he's a limb that has but a disease; 
+
+
+his mouth: Mortal, to cut it off; to cure it, easy. 
+What his breast forges, that his tongue must | What has he done to Rome that’s worthy 
+vent; death > 
+
+
+And, being angry, does forget that ever 259 
+He heard the name of death. [A noise within. 
+Here's goodly work! 
+Sec. Pat. I would they were a-bed! 
+Men. 1 would they were in Tiber! What 
+the vengeance! 
+Could he not speak ‘em fair? 
+
+
+Killing our enemies, the blood he hath lost— 
+
+Which, I dare vouch, is more than that he 
+hath, 
+
+By many an ounce—he dropp’d it for his 
+country ; 301 
+
+And what is left, to lose it by his country, 
+
+Were to us all, that do’t and suffer it, 
+
+
+Re-enter Brutus and Sicinius, with the A brand to the end 0° the world. 
+
+
+cobble Sic. This is clean kam. 
+NN : Bru. Merely awry: when he did love his 
+=i Sic. Where is this viper country, 
+That would depopulate the city and It honour’d him. 
+_ Be every man himself ? Men. The service of the foot 
+
+
+Men. You worthy tribunes,— 
+Sic. He shall be thrown down the Tar- 
+peian rock 
+With rigorous hands: he hath resisted law, 
+And therefore law shall scorn him further trial 
+Than the severity of the public power 
+Which he so sets at nought. 
+
+First Cit. He shall well know 270 
+The noble tribunes are the people’s mouths, 
+And we their hands. 
+
+Citizens. He shall, sure on't. 
+
+Men. Sir, sir— 
+
+Sic. Peace! 
+
+Men. Do not cry havoc, where you should 
+
+
+Being once gangrened, is not then respected 
+For what before it was. 
+
+Bru. We ‘ll hear no more. 
+Pursue him to his house, and pluck him thence; 
+Lest his infection, be.ng of catching nature, 310 
+Spread further. 
+
+Men. One word more, one word. 
+This tiger-footed rage, when it shall find 
+The harm of unscann’d swiftness, will too late 
+Tie leaden pounds to's heels. Proceed by 
+
+process ; 
+Lest parties, as he is beloved, break out, 
+And sack great Rome with Romans. 
+Bru. If it were so,— 
+
+
+but hunt Sic. What do ye talk? 
+With modest warrant. Have we not had a taste of his obedience? 
+Sic. Sir, how comes 't that you | Our ediles smote? ourselves resisted? Come. 
+Have holp to make this rescue? Men. Cons.der this: he has been bred i’ 
+Men. Hear me speak: the wars 320 
+
+
+As I do know the consul’s worthiness, 
+So can I name his faults,— 
+Sic. Consul! what consul ? 
+Men. The consul Coriolanus. . 
+Bru. He consul! 280 
+Cilizens. No, no, no, no, no. 
+Men. If, by the tribunes'’ leave, and yours, 
+good people, 
+-I may be heard, I would crave a word or two; 
+The which shall turn you to no further harm 
+
+
+Since he could draw a sword, and is ill school’d 
+In bolted language; meal and bran together 
+He throws without distinction. Give me leave, 
+I'll go to him, and undertake to bring him 
+Where he shall answer, by a lawful form, 
+In peace, to his utmost peril. 
+
+First Sen. Noble tribunes, 
+It is the humane way: the other course 
+Will prove too bloody, and the end of it 
+Unknown to the beg.nniag. 
+
+
+Than 8 much loss of time. Sic. Noble Menenius, 
+Sic. Speak briefly then; | Be you then as the people's officer. 330 
+For we are peremptory to dispatch Masters, lay down your weapons. 
+
+
+This viperous traitor: to eject him hence 
+Were but one danger, and to keep him here 
+Our certain death: therefore it is decreed 
+He dies to-night. 
+
+Men. Now the good gods forbid 290 
+
+
+That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude 
+
+
+ru. Go not home. 
+Sic. Meet on the market-place. We'll at- 
+tend you there: 
+Where, if you bring not Marcius, we ‘Il proceed 
+In our first way, : 
+Men, I'll bring him to you, 
+
+
+832 
+
+
+pany: he must come, 
+Or what is worst will follow. 
+
+
+First Sen, Pray you, let's to him. 
+[Exeunt. 
+Scene II. A room in Coriolanus’s house. 
+
+
+Enier CorioLcaNus with Patricians. 
+
+
+Cor. Let them pull all about mine ears, 
+present me 
+
+Death on the wheel ox at wild horses’ heels, 
+Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock, 
+That the precipitation might down stretch 
+Below the beam of sight, yet will I still 
+Be thus to them. 
+
+A Patrician. You do the nobler. 
+
+Cor. I muse my mother 
+Does not approve me further, who was wont 
+To call them woollen vassals, things created 9 
+To buy and sell with groats, to show bare heads 
+In congregations, to yawn, be still and wonder, 
+When one but of my ordinance stood up 
+To speak of peace or war. 
+
+* Enter VoLumnia. 
+I talk of you: 
+Why did you wish me milder? would you 
+ave me 
+
+False to my nature? Rather say I play 
+The man I am. 
+
+Vol. O, sir, sir, sir, 
+I would have had you put your power well on, 
+Before you had worn it out. 
+
+
+Cor. Let go. 
+Vol. You might have been enough the man 
+you are, 
+
+
+With striving less to be so: lesser had been 20 
+The thwartings of your dispositions, if 
+You had not show'd them how ye were disposed 
+Ere they lack'd power to cross you. 
+Cor. Let them hang. 
+A Patrician. Ay, and burn too. 
+
+
+Enier MENENIUs and Senators. 
+
+
+Men. Come, come, you have been too 
+rough, something too rough; 
+You must return and mend it. 
+
+First Sen. There 's no remedy; 
+Unless, by not so doing, our good city 
+Cleave in the midst, and perish. 
+
+Vol. Pray, be counsell'd: 
+$1 have a heart as little apt as yours, 
+
+But yet a brain that leads my use of anger 30 
+To better vantage. 
+
+
+en. Well said, noble woman! 
+Before he should thus stoop to the herd, but 
+that 
+
+
+The violent fit o' the time craves it as physic 
+For the whole state, I would put mine armour 
+on, 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+Re a eae 
+
+
+I can scarcely bear. 
+
+Cor. What must I do? 
+
+Men. Retum to the tribunes. 
+
+Cor. Well, what then? what then? 
+
+Men, Repent what you have spoke. 
+
+Cor. For them! I cannot do it to the gods; 
+Must I then do 't to them? 
+
+Vol. You are too absolute; 
+Though therein you can never be too noble, 
+But when extremities speak. I have heard 
+
+you say, 
+Honour and policy, like unsever'd friends, 
+I’ the war do grow together: grant that, and 
+tell me, 
+In peace what each of them by the other lose... 
+That they combine not there. 
+
+Cor. : Tush, tush! 
+
+Men. A good demand, 
+
+Vol. If it be honour in your wars to seem 
+The same you are not, which, for your best 
+
+ends, 
+You adopt your policy, how is it less or worse, 
+That it shall hold companionship in peace 
+With honour, as in war, since that to both 50 
+It stands in like request? 
+Cor. Why force you this? 
+Vol. Because that now it lies you on to 
+speak 
+To the people; not by your own instruction, 
+Nor by the matter which your heart prompts 
+you, 
+But with such words that are but roted in 
+Your tongue, though but bastards and syllables 
+Of no allowance to your bosom's truth. 
+Now, this no more dishonours you at all 
+Than to take in a town with gentle words, 
+Which else would put you to your fortune 
+
+
+an 
+The hazard of much blood. 61 
+I would dissemble with my nature where 
+My fortunes and my friends at stake required 
+I should do so in honour: I am in this, 
+Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles; 
+And you will rather show our general louts 
+How you can frown than spend a fawn upon 
+em, 
+For the inheritance of their loves and safeguard 
+Of what that want might ruin. 
+
+
+Men. Noble lady! 
+Come, go with us; speak fair: you may salve 
+so, 
+
+
+Not what is dangerous present, but the loss 71 
+OF what is past. 
+Vol. I prithee now, my son, 
+
+Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand; 
+And thus far having stretch’'d it—here be 
+
+with them— 
+Thy knee bussing the stones—for in such 
+
+siness 
+
+
+[Acr Hl, Sc 
+a ee Sy 
+[To the Senators] Let me desire your com- | Which 
+
+
+n 
+p 
+
+
+£ 
+
+
+f 
+
+
+EN by fo 
+
+
+Act Ill, Se. HI . 
+
+
+Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the 
+
+; ignorant 
+
+More learned than the ears—waving thy head, 
+
+Which often, thus, correcting thy stout heart, 
+
+_ Now humble as the ripest mulberry 
+
+_ That will not hold the ‘handling: or say to 
+
+: em, 80 
+
+_ Thou art their soldier, and being bred in broils 
+
+Hast not the soft way which, thou dost confess, 
+
+Were fit for thee to use as they to claim, 
+
+ Inasking their good loves, but thou wilt frame 
+
+Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far 
+
+_ As thou hast power and person. 
+
+Men. This but done, 
+
+_ Even as she speaks, why, their hearts were 
+
+i: yours; 
+
+_ For they have pardons, being ask’d, as free 
+
+ae words to little purpose. 
+
+Vol. Prithee now, 
+
+Go, and be ruled: although I know thou hadst 
+rather 90 
+
+Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf 
+
+Than flatter him in a bower, Here is Cominius. 
+
+
+Enter Cominius. 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+Com. | have been i’ the market-place; and, 
+ri sir, ‘tis fit, 
+_ You make strong party, or defend yourself 
+_ By calmness or by absence: all ’s in anger. 
+Men, Only fair speech. 
+Com. I think ‘twill serve, if he 
+Can thereto frame his spirit. 
+B= Vol. He must, and will. 
+_ Prithee now, say you will, and go about it. 
+Cor. Must 1 go show them my unbarbed 
+a sconce ? 
+~ Must I with base tongue give my noble heart 
+_ A lie that it must bear? Well, I will do’t: 
+- Yet, were there but this single plot to lose, 
+This mould of Marcius, they to dust should 
+
+
+J grind it 
+__ And throw ’t against the wind. To the market- 
+place! 
+You have put me now to such a part which 
+never 
+
+
+I shall discharge to the life. 
+Com. Come, come, we '!] prompt you. 
+Vol. 1 prithee now, sweet son, as thou 
+| hast said 
+
+_ My praises made thee first a soldier, so, 
+To have my praise for this, perform a part 
+Thou hast not done before. 
+
+
+Cor. Well, I must do’t: 
+Away, my disposition, and possess me 
+~ Some harlot’s spirit! my throat of war be 
+K turn’d, 
+
+f Which quired with my drum, into a pipe 
+
+} Small as an eunuch, or the virgin voice 
+
+_ That babies lulls asleep! the smtles of knaves 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS- 
+aan cad a 
+Tent in my cheeks, and schoolboys’ tears take 
+
+
+833 
+
+
+up 
+The glasses of my sight! a beggar’s tongue 
+Make motion through my lips, and my arm’d 
+
+
+knees, 
+
+
+Who bow’d but in my stirrup, bend like his 
+That hath received an alms! 
+Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth 
+And by my body’s action teach my mind 
+A most inherent baseness. 
+
+
+I will not do’t, 
+
+
+Vol. At thy choice, then: 
+
+
+To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour 
+Than thou of them. 
+Thy mother rather feel thy pride than fear 
+
+Thy dangerous stoutness, for I mock at death 
+With as big heart as thou. 
+
+
+Thy valiantness was mine, thou suck’dst it 
+
+
+Come all to rum; let 
+
+
+Do as thou list. 
+
+
+from me, 
+
+
+But owe thy pride thyself. 
+
+
+Cor. Pray, be content: 130 
+
+
+Mother, I am going to the market-place; 
+Chide me no more. 
+
+
+I'll mountebank their 
+loves, 
+
+
+Cog their hearts from them, and come home 
+
+
+beloved 
+
+
+Of all the trades in Rome. Look, I am going: 
+Commend me to my wife. 
+Or never trust to what my tongue can do 
+I’ the way of flattery further. 
+
+
+I'll return consul; 
+
+
+Vol. Do your will. [Exit. 
+Com. Away! the tribunes do attend you: 
+arm yourself 
+
+
+To answer mildly; for they are prepared 
+Wth accusations, as 1 hear, more strong 140 
+Than are upon you yet. 
+
+
+Cor. The word is ‘mildly.’ 
+
+
+us go: 
+
+
+Pray you, let 
+
+
+Let them accuse me by invention, | 
+Will answer in mine honour. 
+
+
+Men, Ay, but mildly. 
+
+Cor.. Well, mildly be it then. Mildly! 
+[£xeunt. 
+
+Scene III. The same. The Forum. 
+
+
+Enter Sicintus and Brutus. 
+
+
+Bru. In this point charge him home, that 
+he affects 
+Tyrannical power: if he evade us there, 
+Enforce him with his envy to the people, 
+And that the spoil got on the Antiates 
+Was ne'er distributed. 
+
+
+Enter an fEdile. 
+
+
+What, will he come? 
+He’s coming. 
+Bru. How accompanied ? 
+Ed. With old Menenius, and those senators 
+That always favour’d him. 
+Sic. Have you a catalogue 
+
+
+834 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+[Act II], Sc. Hl 
+
+
+Of all the voices that we have procured 
+Set down by the poll? 
+d. I have; ‘tis ready. 10 
+Sic. Have you collected them by tribes? 
+“Ed, I have. 
+Sic. Assemble presently the people hither; 
+And when they hear me say ‘It shall be so 
+I’ the right and strength o’ the commons,’ be 
+it either 
+For death, for fine, or banishment, then let 
+them, 
+If I say fine, cry ‘Fine;’ if death, cry ‘Death.’ 
+Insisting on the old prerogative 
+And power i’ the truth o’ the cause. 
+“zd, I shall inform them. 
+Bru. And when such time they have begun 
+to cry, 
+Let them not cease, but with'a din confused 
+Enforce the present execution 
+Of what we chance to sentence. 
+
+
+fied, Very well. 
+Sic. Make them be strong and ready for 
+this hint, 
+
+
+When we shall hap to give ‘t them. 
+
+Bru. Go about it. [Exit Adile. 
+Put him to choler straight: he hath been used 
++ Ever to conquer, and to have his worth 
+Of contradiction: being once chafed, he cannot 
+Be rein’d aga’n to temperance; then he speaks 
+What's in his heart; and that is there which 
+
+looks 
+With us to break his neck. 
+
+Sic. Well, here he comes. 30 
+Enter CorioLlaNnus, MENENIUS, and Comi- 
+Nius, with Senators and Patricians. 
+
+Men. Calmly, I do beseech you. 
+
+Cor. Ay, as an ostler, that for the poorest 
+
+piece 
+
+Will bear the knave by the volume. The 
+honour’d gods 
+
+Keep Rome in safety, and the chairs of justice 
+
+
+Supplied with worthy men! plant love 
+among 's! 
+Throng our large temples with the shows of 
+peace, 
+And not our streets with war! 
+First Sen. Amen, amen. 
+
+
+Men. A noble wish. 
+Re-enter /Edile, with Citizens. 
+
+
+Sic. Draw near, ye people. 
+
+4Ed, List to your tribunes. 
+peace, I say! 
+
+Cor. First, hear me speak. 
+
+Both Tri. Well, say. Peace, ho! 
+
+Cor, Shall I be charged no further than 
+this present? 
+
+Must all determine here? 
+Sic. 
+
+
+Audience! 
+40 
+
+
+I do demand, 
+
+
+If you submit you to the people's voices, 
+Allow their officers and are content 
+
+To suffer lawful censure for such faults 
+As shall be proved upon you? 
+
+Cor. I am content. 
+Men. Lo, citizens, he says he is content: 
+The warlike service he has done, consider; 
+
+think 49 
+Upon the wounds his body bears, which show 
+Like graves i’ the holy chur :hyard. 
+
+Cor. Scratches with briers, 
+Scars to move laughter only. 
+
+Men, Consider further, 
+That when he speaks not like a citizen, 
+You find him like a soldier: do not take 
+His rougher accents for malicious sounds, 
+But, as I say, such as become a soldier, 
+Rather than envy you. 
+
+Com. Well, well, no more. 
+
+Cor. What is the matter 
+That being pass’d for consul with full voice, 
+I am so dishonour’d that the very hour 60 
+You take it off again? 
+
+Sic. Answer to us. 
+
+Cor. Say, then: ‘tis true, I ought so. 
+
+Sic. We charge you, that you have con- 
+
+trived to take 
+From Rome all season’d office and to wind 
+Yourself into a power tyrannical; 
+For which you are a traitor to the people. 
+
+Cor. How! traitor! 
+
+Men. Nay, temperately; your promise, 
+
+Cor. The dires i’ the lowest hell fold-in the 
+
+people! 
+Call me their traitor! Thou injurious tribune! 
+Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths, 
+In thy hands clutch’d as many millions, in 71 
+Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say 
+‘Thou liest’ unto thee with a voice as free 
+As I do pray the gods. 
+
+
+Sic. Mark you this, people? 
+Citizens, To the rock, to the rock with him! 
+Sic. Peace! 
+
+
+We need not put new matter to his charge: 
+What you have seen him do and heard hira 
+speak, 
+Beating your officers, cursing yourselves, 
+Opposing laws with strokes and here defying 
+Those whose great power must try him; even 
+this, 
+So criminal and in such capital kind, 
+Deserves the extremest death. 
+Bru. But since he hath 
+Served well for Rome,— 
+Cor. What do you prate of service? 
+Bru. | talk of that, that know it. 
+Cor. You? 
+Men. Is this the promise that you made 
+your mother? 
+
+
+~~ ee oh 
+
+
+<. 
+
+
+> 
+
+
+Acr IV, Sc. I] CORIOLANUS 635 
+
+
+There is a world elsewhere. 
+[Exeunt Coriolanus, Cominius, Mene- 
+nius, Senators, and Patricians. 
+Ed. The people’s enemy is gone, is gone! 
+Citizens. Our enemy is banish'd! he is gone! 
+Hoo! hoo! [Shouting, and throwing up 
+their caps. 
+
+
+Com. Know, I pray you,— 
+
+Cor. I'll know no further: 
+Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death, 
+Vagabond ex:le, flaying, pent to linger 
+But with a grain a day, | would not buy 90 
+Their mercy at the price of one fair word; 
+Nor check my courage for what they can 
+
+
+give, Sic. Go, see him out at gates, and follow 
+To have 't with saying ‘Good morrow. him, 
+Sic. For that he has, | As he hath follow’d you, with all despite; 
+
+
+As much as in him lies, from time to time 
+Envied against the people, seeking means 
+To pluck away their power, as now at last 
+Given hostle strokes, and that not in the 
+presence 
+Ut dreaded justice, but on the ministers 
+That do distribute it; in the name o’ the people 
+And in the power of us the tribunes, we, 100 
+yen from this instant, banish him our city, 
+In peril of precipitation 
+From off the rock Tarpeian never more 
+To enter our Rome gates: i’ the people’s name, 
+I say it shall be so. 
+Citizens. It shall be so, it shall be so; let 
+him away: 
+He's banish’d, and it shall be so. 
+Com. Hear me, my masters, and my com- 
+mon friends,— 
+Sic. He's sentenced; no more hearing. 
+Com. Let me speak: 
+I have been consul, and can show for Rome 
+Her enemies’ marks upon me. I do love 
+My country’s good with a respect more tender, 
+More holy and profound, than mine own life, 
+My dear wife's estimate, her womb’s increase, 
+And treasure of my loins; then if I would 
+Speak that,—- 
+Sic. We know your drift: speak what? 
+Bru. There's no more to be said, but he 
+is banish'd, 
+
+
+As enemy to the people and his country: 
+It shall be so. 
+
+
+Give him deserved vexation. Let a guard 140 
+Attend us through the city. 
+Citizens. Come, come; let’s see him out 
+at gates; come. 
+The gods preserve our noble tribunes! Come. 
+[Exeuni. 
+
+
+ACT IV. 
+
+
+Scene I. Rome. Before a gate of the city. 
+
+
+Enter CorIioLANuUS, VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, 
+Menenius, Cominius, with the young Ne- 
+bility of Rome. 
+
+Cor. Come, leave your iears: a brief fare- 
+well: the beast 
+
+With many heads butts me away. Nay, mother, 
+
+Where is your ancient courage? you.were used 
+
+To say extremity was the trier of spirits; 
+
+That common chances common men could 
+
+bear; 
+
+That when the sea was calm all boats alike 
+
+Show’'d mastership in floating; fortune’s blows, 
+
+When most struck home, being gentle wounded, 
+
+craves 
+
+A noble cunning: you were used to load me 
+
+With precepts that would make invincible 1 
+
+The heart that conn’d them. 
+
+Vir. O heavens! O heavens! 
+
+Cor. Nay, I prithee, woman,— 
+
+Vol. Now the red pestilence strike all 
+trades in Rome, 
+
+And occupations perish! 
+
+
+Citizens. It shall be so, it shall be so. Cor. What, what, what! 
+Cor. You common cry of curs! whose | I shall be loved when I am lack’d. Nay, 
+breath I hate 120 mother, - 
+
+
+As reek o’ the rotten fens, whose loves I prize 
+As the dead carcasses of unburied men 
+
+That do corrupt my air, I banish you; 
+And here remain with your uncertainty! 
+
+Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts! 
+Your, enemies, with nodding of their plumes, 
+Fan you into despair! Have the power still 
+To banish your defenders; till at length 
+Your ignorance, which finds not till it feels, 
+Making not reservation of yourselves, 130 
+Still your own foes, deliver you as most 
+Abated captives to some nation 
+
+That won you without blows! Despising, 
+For you, the city, thus I turn my back: 
+
+
+Resume that spirit, when you were wont to say, 
+
+If you had been the wife of Hercules, 
+
+Six of his labours you ‘Id have done, and saved 
+
+Your husband so much sweat. Cominius, 
+
+Droop not; adieu. Farewell, my wife, my 
+mother: y 
+
+I'll do well yet. Thou cld and true Menentus, 
+
+Thy tears are salter than a younger man $, 
+
+And venomous to thine eyes. My sometime 
+general, 
+
+I have seen thee stern, and thou hast oft beheld 
+
+Heart-hardening spectacles; tell these sad 
+women 
+
+‘Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes, 
+
+
+856 
+
+
+As ‘tis to laugh at "em. My mother, you wot 
+
+well 
+_ My hazards still have been your solace: and 
+
+Believe ’t not lightly—though I go alone, 
+
+Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen 
+
+Makes fear’d and talk’d of more than seen— 
+your son 
+
+Will or exceed the common or be caught 
+
+With cautelous baits and practice. 
+
+
+Vol. ; My first son, 
+
+
+Whither wilt thou ga? Take good Cominius |, 
+
+
+With thee awhile: determine on some course, 
+More than a wild exposture to each chance 
+That starts i’ the way before thee. 
+
+
+Cor, O the gods! 
+Com, I'll follow thee a month, devise with 
+thee 
+Where thou shalt rest, that thou mayst hear 
+of us 
+
+
+And we of thee: so if the time thrust forth 40 
+A cause for thy repeal, we shall not send 
+O'er the vast world to seek a single man, 
+And lose advantage, which doth ever cool 
+
+I’ the absence of the needer. 
+
+Cor, Fare ye well: 
+
+Thou hast years upon thee; and thou art too 
+full 
+Of the wars’ surfeits, to go rove with one 
+That's yet unbruised: bring me but out at gate, 
+Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother, and 
+My friends of noble touch, when I am forth, 
+Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you, come. 
+While I remain above the ground, you shall 
+Hear from me still, and never of me aught 
+But what is like me formerly. 
+
+Men. That ’s worthily 
+As any ear can hear. Come, let’s not weep. 
+If I could shake off but one seven years 
+From these old arms and legs, by the good gods, 
+I ‘Id with thee every foot. 
+
+Cor. Give me thy hand: 
+Come. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene If. The same. A street near the gale, 
+Enter Sicinius, Brutus, and an FEdile. 
+Sic. Bid them all home; he's gone, and 
+
+we ‘ll no further, 
+
+The nobility are vex’d, whom we see have sided 
+
+Ta his behalf. 
+
+Bru. | Now we have shown our power, 
+
+Lit us seem humbler after it is done 
+
+Than when it was a-doing. 
+
+Sic. Bid them home: 
+
+Say their great enemy is gone, and they 
+
+
+Stand in their ancient strength, 
+
+
+Bru. Dismiss them home. [Exit AZdile. 
+Here comes his mother. 
+
+Sic, Let's not meet her. 
+
+Bru, Why? 
+
+
+-CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+Pos ee ree 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc, I 
+
+
+Sic. They say she’s mad. 
+Bru, They have ta’en note of us: keep on 
+your way. 10 
+
+
+30 ‘Enter VoLUMNIA, VirRGILIA, and MENENIUs. 
+
+
+Vol. O, ye’re well met: the hoarded 
+plague o’ the gods 
+Requite your love! 
+Men, Peace, peace; be not so loud. 
+Vol. If that I could for weeping, you 
+should hear,— 
+Nay, and you shall hear some. [To Brutus] 
+Will you be gone? 
+Vir. [To Sicinius) You shall stay too: I 
+
+
+would I had the power 
+
+
+To say so to my husband. 
+Sic. Are you mankind? 
+Vol. Ay, fool; is that a shame? Note but 
+this fool. 
+Was ne aman my father? Hadst thou fox- 
+ship 
+To banish him that struck more blows for 
+Rome 
+Than thou hast spoken words? 
+Sic, O blessed heavens! 
+
+
+Vol. More noble blows than ever thou 
+wise words; 
+And for Rome’s good. 
+yet go: 
+Nay, but thou shalt stay too: I would my son 
+Were in Arabia, and thy tribe before him, 
+His good sword in his hand. 
+
+Sic. pt kee What then? 
+
+Vir. What then! 
+He ‘ld make an end of thy posterity, 
+
+Vol. Bastards and all. 
+
+Good man, the wounds that he does bear for 
+Rome! / 
+
+Men. Come, come, peace. 
+
+Sic. I would he had continued to his country 
+As he began, and not unknit himself 31 
+The noble knot he made. 
+
+Bru. I would he had. 
+
+Vol. ‘I would he had’! "Twas you incensed 
+
+the rabble: 
+Cats, that can judge as fitly of his worth 
+As I can of those mysteries which heaven 
+Will not have earth to know. 
+
+Bru. Pray, let us go, 
+
+Vol. Now, pray, sir, get you gone: 
+
+You have done a brave deed. Exe you go, 
+hear this:— 
+
+As far as doth the Capitol exceed 39 
+
+The meanest house in Rome, so far my son— 
+
+This lady's husband here, this, do you see >— 
+
+Whom you have banish'd, does exceed you all, 
+
+Bru. Well, well, we'll leave you. 
+
+Sic. Why stay we to be baited 
+With one that wants her wits? 
+
+
+21 
+I'll tell thee what; 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+et lytlceaee 
+
+
+a. ae 
+
+
+_ Act IV, Se. IV] 
+
+
+Take my prayers with you. 
+¥ [Exeunt Tribunes. 
+I would the gods had nothing else to do 
+
+But to confirm my curses! Could I meet ‘em 
+But once a-day, it would unclog my heart 
+Of what lies heavy tot. 
+
+Men. You have told them home; 
+And, by my troth, you have cause. You'll 
+sup with me? t 
+v Vol. Anger ’s my meat; I sup upon myself. 
+: And so shall starve with feeding. Come, 
+. let’s go: 5h 
+Leave this faint puling and lament as | do, 
+In anger, Juno-like. Come, come, come. 
+
+
+Men. Fie, fie, fie! [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene HI. A highway between Rome 
+and Antium. 
+
+
+Enier a Roman and a Volsce, meeting. 
+
+
+Rom. | know you well, sir, and you know 
+me: your name, | think, is Adrian. 
+
+Vols, It is so, sir: truly, I have forgot you. 
+
+Rom. I am a Roman; and my services are, 
+as you are, against ‘em: know you me yet? 
+
+Vols. Nicanor? no. | 
+
+Rom. The same, sir. 
+
+Vols. Yow had more beard whem | last 
+saw you; but your’ favour ts well approved by 
+your tongue. What's the news in Rome? 
+have a note from the Wolscian state, to find 
+you out there: you have well saved me a 
+day's journey. 
+
+Rom. Thete hath been in Rome strange 
+insurrections; the people against the senators, 
+patricians, and nobles. 
+
+Vols. Hath been! is it ended, then? Our 
+state thinks not so: they are m a most warlike 
+preparation, and hope to come upon them in 
+the heat of their divis on. 
+
+Rom. The main blaze of it is past, but a 
+small thing would make it flame again: for the 
+nobles receive so to heart the banishment of 
+that worthy Coriolanus, that they are ma ripe 
+
+- aptness to take all power from the people and 
+to pluck from them their tribunes for ever. 
+
+This lies glowing, I can tell you, and is almost 
+mature for the violent breakmg out. 
+
+Vols. Coriolamus banished! 
+
+Rom. Banished, sir. 
+
+
+ligence, Nicanor. 
+
+Rom. The day serves well for them now. 
+I have heard it said, the fittest tme to corrupt 
+a man’s wife is when she’s fallen out with 
+her husband. Your noble Tullus Auftdius 
+will appear well im these wars, his great op- 
+poser, Coriolanus, beimg now in no request 
+of his country. 
+
+
+Vols. He cannot choose. I am most for- 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+Ee ee ee 
+
+
+Vols. You will be welcome with this intel-‘ 
+31 
+
+
+837 
+
+
+tunate, thus accidentally to encounter you: 
+you have ended my business, and | will mer- 
+rily accompany you home. 
+
+Rom. I shall, between this artd supper, tell 
+you most strange things from Rome; all tend- 
+ing to the good of their adversaries. Have 
+you an army ready, say you? 
+
+Vols. A most royal one; the cenfurions 
+and their charges, distinctly billeted, already 
+in the entertainment, and to be on foot at an 
+hour's wammg. 50 
+
+Rom. | am joyful to heay of their readi- 
+ness, and am the man, | think, that shall set 
+them in present action. So, sit, heartily well 
+met, and most glad of your company. 
+
+Vols. You take my part from me, sir; [| 
+have the most cause to be glad of yours. 
+
+Rom. Well, let us go together. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Antium. Before Aufidius's house. 
+
+
+Enter CorioLANus in mean apparel, 
+disguised and muffled. 
+Cor. A goodly city is ths Antium. City, 
+Tis I that made thy widows: many an heir 
+Of these fair edifices ‘fore my wars 
+Have I heard: groam and drop: then know 
+me not, 
+
+Lest that thy wives with spits and Foys with 
+stores 
+
+In puny battle slay me. 
+
+
+Enter a Citizen. 
+
+
+Save you, sire 
+Cit. And you. 
+Cor. _ Direct me, if it be your will, 
+Where great Aufidius lies; is he in Antium? 
+Cit. He is, and feasts the nobles of the state 
+At his house this mght. 
+Cor. Whch is his house, beseech you? 10 
+Cit. This, here before you. 
+Cor. Thank you, sir: farewell 
+ae : [Exit Citizen, 
+O world, thy slippery turns! Friends now 
+fast sworn, , 
+Whose double bosoms seem to wear one heart, 
+Whose hours, whose bed, whose meal, and 
+exercise, 
+
+Axe still together, who twin, as ‘twete, in love 
+
+Unseparable, shall within this hour, 
+
+On a dissension of a doit, break out 
+
+To bitterest enm'ty: so, fellest foes, 
+
+Whose passions and whose plots have broke 
+their sleep 
+
+To take the one the other, by some chance, 20 
+
+Some trick not worth an’ egg, shall grow dear 
+friends 
+
+And interjoin their issues. So with me: 
+
+My birth-place hate I, and my love ’s upon 
+
+This enemy town. I'll enter: if he slay me, 
+
+
+838 
+
+
+He does fair justice; if he give me way, 
+I ‘ll do his country service. [ Exit. 
+
+
+Scene V. The same. A hall in Aufidius’s 
+
+
+house. 
+
+
+Music within. Enter a Servingman. 
+
+
+First Serv. Wine, wine, wine! What serv- 
+ice is here! I think our fellows are asleep, 
+[Exit. 
+
+Enter a second Servingman. 
+
+
+Sec. Serv. Where’s Cotus? my master 
+calls for him. Cotus! [Exit. 
+
+
+Enter CorRIoLaNus. 
+
+
+Cor. A goodly house: the feast smells 
+well; but I 
+Appear not like a guest. 
+
+
+Re-enter the first Servingman. 
+
+
+First Serv, What would you have, friend? 
+whence are you? Here's no place for you: 
+pray, go to the door. [Exit. 
+
+' Cor. I have deserved no better entertain- 
+ment, 
+1] 
+
+
+In being Coriolanus. 
+
+
+Re-enter second Servingman. 
+
+
+Sec. Serv. Whence are you, sir? Has the 
+porter his eyes in his head, that he gives en- 
+france to such companions? Pray, get you out. 
+
+Cor. Away! 
+
+Sec. Serv. Away! get you away. 
+
+Cor. Now thou 'rt troublesome. 
+
+Sec. Serv. Are you so brave? 
+you talked with anon. 
+
+
+Enter a third Servingman. 
+him. 
+
+Third Serv. What fellow ‘s that? 20 
+
+First Serv. A strange one as ever | looked 
+on: I cannot get him out o’ the house: prithee, 
+cal] my master to him. [Retires. 
+
+Third Serv. What have you to do here, 
+fellow? Pray you, avoid the house. 
+
+Cor. Let me but stand; I will not hurt 
+_your hearth. 
+
+Third Serv. What are you? 
+
+Cor. A gentleman. 
+
+Third Serv, A marvellous poor one. 
+
+Cor. True, so I am. 
+
+Third Serv. Pray. you, poor gentleman, 
+take up some other station; here's no place 
+for you; pray you, avoid: come. 
+
+Cor. Follow your function, go, and batten 
+on cold bits, [Pushes him away. 
+
+Third Serv. What, you will not?  Prithee, 
+tell my master what a strange guest he has here. 
+
+Sec. Serv. And | shall. [Exit. 
+
+Third Serv. Where dwellest theu? 40 
+
+Cor. Under the canopy, 
+
+
+I'll have 
+
+
+The first meets 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc, V 
+
+
+Third Serv, Under the canopy? 
+
+Cor. Ay. 
+
+Third Serv.. Where's that? 
+
+Cor. I’ the city of kites and crows. 
+
+Third Serv, I’ the city of kites and crows\ 
+What an ass it is! Then thou dwellest with 
+daws too? 
+
+Cor. No, I serve not thy master. 
+
+Third Serv. How, sir! do you meddle with 
+my master? 51 
+
+Cor. Ay; ‘tis an honester service than to 
+meddle w:th thy mistress. 
+
+Thou pratest, and pratest; serve with thy 
+trencher, hence! 
+[Beats him away. Exit third Servingman, 
+
+
+Enter Auripius with the second Servingman. 
+
+
+Auf. Where is this fellow? 
+
+Sec. Serv. Here, sir: I Id have beaten hin 
+like a dog, but for disturbing the lords within. 
+
+[Retires. 
+
+Auf. Whence comest thou? what wouldst 
+
+thou? thy name? 
+
+Cor, If, Tullus, [Unmuffling. 60 
+Not yet thou knowest me, and, seeing me, 
+
+dost not 
+Think me for the man I am, necessity 
+Commands me name myself. 
+Auf. What is thy name? 
+Cor. A name unmusical to the Volscians' 
+ears, 
+And harsh in sound to thine. 
+
+Auf. Re Say, what’s thy name? 
+Thou hast a grim appearance, and thy face 
+Bears a command in’t; though thy tackle's 
+
+torn, 
+Thou show’st a noble vessel: what's thy 
+name ? 
+
+Cor. Prepare thy brow to frown: know’st 
+
+thou me yet? 
+
+Auf. I know thee not: thy name? 70 
+
+Cor. My name is Caius Marcius, who hath 
+
+done 
+To thee particularly and to all the Volsces 
+Great hurt and mischief; thereto witness may 
+My surname, Coriolanus: the painful service, 
+The extreme dangers and the drops of blood 
+Shed for my thankless country are requited 
+But with that surname; a good memory, 
+
+
+‘And witness of the malice and displeasure 
+
+
+Which thou shouldst bear me: only that name 
+remains; 
+
+The cruelty and envy of the people, 80 
+
+Permitted by our dastard nobles, who 
+
+Have all forsook me, hath devour'd the rest; 
+
+And suffer'd me by the voice of slaves to be 
+
+Whoop’d out of Rome. Now this extremity 
+
+Hath brought me to thy hearth; not out of 
+hope— 
+
+
+oe 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. V] 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+839 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+Mistake me not—to save my life, for if 
+I had fear'’d death, of all the men i’ the world 
+I would have ‘voided thee, but in mere spite, 
+To be full quit of those my banishers, 
+Stand I before thee here. Then if thou hast 
+A heart of wreak in thee, that wilt revenge 
+Thine own particular wrongs and stop those 
+maims 
+Of shame seen through thy country, speed 
+thee straight, 
+And make my misery serve thy turn: so use it 
+_ That my revengeful services may prove 
+As benefits to thee, for I will fight 
+Against my canker'd country with the spleen 
+Of all the under fiends. But if so be 
+Thou d>~-st not this and that to prove more 
+fortunes 
+Thou rt tired, then, in a word, I also am 100 
+_Longer to live most weary, and present 
+My throat to thee and to thy ancient malice; 
+Which not to cut would show thee but a fool, 
+Since I have ever follow'd thee with hate, 
+Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country’s 
+breast, 
+And cannot live but to thy shame, unless 
+It be to do thee service. 
+Auf. O Marcius, Marcius! 
+Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from 
+my heart 
+
+
+A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter 109 
+
+Should from yond cloud speak divine things, 
+
+And say ‘Tis true,” I ‘Id not believe them 
+more 
+
+Than thee, all noble Marcius. Let me twine 
+
+Mine arms about that body, where against 
+
+My grained ash an hundred times hath broke, 
+
+And pred the moon with splinters; here I 
+clip 
+
+The anvil of my sword, and do contest 
+
+As hotly and as nobly with thy love 
+
+As ever in ambitious strength I did 
+
+Contend against thy valour. Know thou first, 
+
+I loved the maid I married; never man 120 
+
+Sigh’d truer breath; but that I see thee here, 
+
+Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart 
+
+Than when I first my wedded m'stress saw 
+
+Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars! I 
+tell thee, 
+
+We have a power on foot; and I had purpose 
+
+Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn, 
+
+Or lose mine arm fort: thou hast beat me out 
+
+Twelve several times, and I have nightly since 
+
+Dreamt of encounters “twixt thyself and me; 
+
+We have been down together in my sleep, 130 
+
+Unbuckling helms, fisting each other’s throat, 
+
+And waked half dead with nothing. Worthy 
+Marcius, 
+
+Had we no quarrel else to Rome, but that 
+
+. Thou art thence banish’d, we would muster all 
+
+
+From twelve to seventy, and pouring war 
+Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome, 
+Like a bold flood o’er-bear. O, come, go in, 
+And take our friendly senators by the hands; 
+Who now are here, taking their leaves of me, 
+Who am prepared against your territories, 140 
+Though not for Rome itself. 
+Cor. You bless me, gods! 
+Auf. Therefore, most absolute sir, if thou 
+wilt have 
+The leading of thine own revenge, take 
+The one half of my commission; and set 
+
+
+down— 
+
+As best thou art experienced, since thou 
+know’st 
+
+Thy country’s strength and weakness,—thine 
+own ways; 
+
+
+Whether to knock against the gates of Rome, 
+Or rudely visit them in parts remote, 
+To fright them, ere destroy. But come in: 
+Let me commend thee first to those that shall 
+Say yea to thy desires., A thousand welcomes! 
+And more a friend than e’er an enemy; 
+Yet, Marcius, that was much. Your hand: 
+most welcome! 
+[Exeunt Coriolanus and Aufidius. The 
+two Servingmen come forward, 
+
+First Serv. Here's a strange alteration! 
+
+Sec. Serv. By my hand, I had thought to 
+have strucken him with a cudgel: and yet my 
+mind gave me his clothes made a false report 
+of him. 
+
+First Serv. What aa arm he has! he turned 
+me about with his finger and his thumb, as 
+one would set up a top. 161 
+
+Sec. Serv. Nay, I knew by his face that 
+there was something in him: he had, sir, a 
+kind of face, methought,—I cannot tell how to 
+term it. 
+
+First Serv, He had so; looking as it were 
+—would I were hanged, -ut I thought there 
+was more in him than | could think. 
+
+Sec. Serv. So did I, I ll be sworn: he is 
+simply the rarest man i’ the world. 
+
+First Serv. 1 think he is: but a greater 
+soldier than he, you wot one. 171 
+
+Sec. Serv. Who, my master? 
+
+First Serv. Nay, it’s no matter for that. 
+
+Sec. Serv. Worth six on him. 
+
+First Serv. Nay, not so neither: but I take 
+him to be the greater soldier. 
+
+Sec. Serv. Faith, look you, one cannot tell 
+how to say that: for the defence of a town, 
+our general is excellent. 
+
+First Serv. Ay,and for an assault too. 180 
+
+
+Re-enter third Servingman. 
+
+
+Third Serv. O slaves, I can tell you news. 
+—news, you rascals! 
+
+
+840 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+oa 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. VI 
+
+
+First and Sec. Serv. What, what, what? 
+let's partake. 
+
+Third Serv. I would not be a Roman, of 
+all nations; 1 had as lieve be a condemned 
+man. 
+
+First and Sec. Serv. Wherefore? where- 
+fore? 
+
+Third Serv. Why, here’s he that was wont 
+to thwack our general, Caius Marcius. 
+
+First Serv. Why do you say “thwack our 
+general’? 191 
+
+Third Serv. 1 do not say ‘thwack our gen- 
+eral;’ but he was always good enough for 
+him. 
+
+Sec. Serv. Come, we are fellows and 
+friends: he was ever too hard for him; I have 
+heard him say so himself. 
+
+First Serv. He was too hard for him di- 
+rectly, to say the troth on’t: before Corioli he 
+scotched him and notched him like a car- 
+bonado. 
+
+Sec. Serv. An he .had been cannibally 
+given, he might have broiled and eaten him 
+too. 201 
+
+First Serv, But, more of thy news? 
+
+Third Serv. Why, he is so made on here 
+within, as if he were son and heir to Mars; 
+set at upper end o’ the table; no question 
+asked him by any of the senators, but they 
+stand bald before hm: our general himself 
+makes a mistress of him; sanctifies himself 
+with’s hand and turns up the whites o’ the 
+eye to his discourse. But the bottom of the 
+news is, our general is cut 1’ the middle and 
+but one half of what he was yesterday; for 
+the other has half, by the entreaty and ¢rant 
+of the whole table. He'll go, he says, and 
+sowl the porter of Rome gates by the ears: he 
+will mow all down before him, and leave his 
+passage polled. 
+
+Sec. Serv. And he’s as like to do’t as any 
+man | can imagine. 
+
+Third Serv. Do’t! he will do't; for, look 
+you, sir, he has as many friends as enemies; 
+which friends, sir, as it were, durst not, look 
+you, sir, show themselves, as we term it, his 
+friends whilst he’s in directitude. 
+
+First Serv. Directitude! what's that> 
+
+Third Serv. But when they shall see, sir, 
+his crest up again, and the man in blood, they 
+will out of their burrows, like conies after 
+rain, and revel all with him. 
+
+First Serv. But when goes this forward? 
+
+Third Serv. To-morrow; to-day; presently ; 
+you shall have the drum struck up this after- 
+noon: ‘tis, as it were, a parcel of their feast, 
+and to be executed ere they wipe their lips. 
+
+Sec. Serv. Why, then we shall have a stir- 
+ring world again. This peace is nothing, but 
+
+
+to rust iron, increase tailors, and breed ballad- 
+makers. 
+
+First Serv. Let me have war, say I; it ex- 
+ceeds peace as far as day does night; it’s 
+spritely, waking, audible, and full of vent. 
+Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy; mulled, 
+deaf, sleepy, insensible; a getter of more 
+bastard children than war’s a destroyer of 
+men. 
+
+Sec. Serv. “Tis so: and as war, in some 
+sort, may be said to be a ravisher, so it can- 
+not be denied but peace is a great maker of 
+cuckolds. 
+
+First Serv. Ay, and it makes men hate 
+one another. 
+
+
+Third Serv. Reason; because they then 
+less need one another. The wars for my 
+money. I hope to see Romans as cheap as 
+
+
+Volscians. They are rising, they are rising. 
+All. In, in, in, in! [Exeunt, 
+Scene VI. Rome. A public place. 
+Enter Sicintus and Brutus. 
+
+
+Sic. We hear not of him, neither need wa 
+fear him; 
+His remedies are tame i’ the present peace 
+And quietness of the people, which before 
+Were in wild hurry. Here do we make his 
+friends 
+Blush that the world goes well, who rather had, 
+Though they themselves did suffer by ‘t, behold 
+Dissentious numbers pestering streets than See 
+Our tradesmen,singing in their shops and going 
+About their functions friendly. 
+Bru. We stood to’t in good time. [Enter 
+Menenius.| Is this Menenius? 10 
+
+
+Sic. "Tis he, ’tis he: O, he is grown most 
+kind of late. 
+
+Both Tri. Hail, sir! 
+
+Men, Hail to you both! 
+
+Sic. Your Coriolanus 
+
+
+Is not much miss'd, but with his friends: 
+The cotsmmonyyealtt doth stand, and so would 
+0, 
+Were he more angry at it. 
+Men. All's well; and might have been 
+much better, if 
+He could have temporized. 
+Sic. Where is he, hear you? 
+Men. Nay, I hear nothing: his mother 
+and his wife 
+Hear nothing from him. 
+
+
+Enter three or four. Citizens. 
+
+
+Citizens. The gods preserve you both! 
+
+Sic. God-den, our neighbours. 20 
+
+Bru, Ged-den to you all, god-den to you all. 
+
+First Cit. Ourselves, our wives, our chil- 
+dren, on our knees, 
+
+
+Are bound to pray for you both. 
+
+
+ie IV, Se. vi: 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+84) 
+
+
+Sic. Live, and thrive! 
+Bru. Farewell, kind neighbours: we wish’d 
+
+
+Coriclanus 
+Had loved you as we did. 
+Citizens. Now the gods keep you! 
+
+
+Both Tri. Farewell, farewell. 
+[Exeunt Citizens. 
+Sic. This is a happier and more comely 
+time 
+_ Than when these fellow ran about the streets, 
+- Crying confusion. 
+Bru. Caius Marcus was 
+_ A worthy officer i’ the war; but insolent, 30 
+O’ercome with pride, ambitious past all think- 
+
+
+ing, 
+_ Self- loving,— 
+Sic. And affecting one sole throne, 
+
+
+4 Without assisiance. 
+
+Men. I think not so. 
+
+"4 “Sic. We should by this, to all our lamen- 
+‘ tation, 
+
+_ If he had gone forth consul, found it so. 
+Bru. The gods have well prevented it, and 
+t Rome 
+
+& Sits safe and still without him. 
+
+
+Enter an FEdile. 
+fed, Worthy tribunes, 
+
+
+There is a slave, whom we have put in prison, 
+_ Reports, the Volsces with two several powers 
+_ Are enter’d in the Roman territories, 
+_ And with the deepest malice of the war 
+_ Destroy what lies before ‘em. 
+. Men. *Tis Aufidius, 
+Who, hearing of our Marcius’ banishment, 
+Thrusts forth his horns again into the world; 
+Which were inshell’d when Marcius stood (ar 
+Rome, 
+_ And durst not once peep out. 
+Ee eSict Come, what talk you 
+~ Of Marcius? ; 
+A t 
+
+
+Bru. Go see this rumourer whipp’d. 
+
+
+: cannot be 
+_ The Volsces dare break with us. 
+Men. Cannot be! 
+
+
+_ We have record that very well it can, : 
+_ And three examples of the like have been 50 
+~ Within my age. But reason with the fellow, 
+_ Before you punish him, where he heard this, 
+4 Lest you shall chance to whip your informa- 
+tion 
+_ And beat the messenger who bids: beware 
+~ Of what is to be dreaded. 
+Sic. Tell not me: 
+I know this cannot be. 
+Bru. Not possible. 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+' Mess. The nobles in great earnestness are 
+going 
+
+
+All to the senate-house; some news is come 
+That turns their countenances. 
+
+Sic. ’Tis this slave; — 
+Go whip him ‘fore the people's eyes:—his 
+
+
+raising ; 60 
+Nothing but his report. 
+Mess. Yes, worthy sir, 
+
+
+The slave’s report is seconded; and more, : 
+
+
+More fearful, is deliver’d. 
+
+
+Sic. What more fearful? 
+Mess. It is spoke freely out of many 
+mouths— 
+
+
+How probable I do not know—that Marcius, 
+Join’'d with Aufidius, leads a power ‘gainst 
+Rome, 
+And vows revenge as spacious as between 
+The young’st and oldest thing. 
+Sic. This is most likely! 
+Bru. Raised only, that the weaker sort may 
+wish 
+Good Marcius home again, 
+Sic. The very trick on't. 70 
+Men. This is unlikely: 
+He and Aufidius can no more atone 
+Than violentest contrariety. 
+
+
+Enter a second Messenger. 
+
+
+Sec. Mess. You are sent for to the senate: 
+A fearful army, led by Caius Marcius 
+Associated with Aufidius, rages 
+Upon our territories; and have already 
+O’erborne their way, consumed with fire, and 
+
+took 
+
+
+What lay before them. 
+Enter Cominius. 
+
+
+Com. O, you have made good work? 
+
+Men. What news? what news? 80 
+
+Com. You have holp to ravish your own 
+daughters and 
+
+To melt the city leads upon your pates, 
+
+To see your wives dishonour’d to your noses,— 
+Men. What’s the news? what’s the news? 
+Com. Your temples burned in their ce- 
+
+ment, and 
+
+Your franchises, whereon you stood, confined 
+
+Into an auger’s bore. 
+
+Men. Pray now, your news? 
+
+You have made fair work, I fear me.—Pray, 
+
+your news ?— 
+
+If Marcius should be join’d with Volscians,— 
+Com. If! 
+He is their god: he leads them like a thing 90 
+
+Made by some other deity than nature, 
+
+That shapes men better; and they follow him, 
+
+Against us brats, with no less confidence 
+
+Than boys pursuing summer butterflies, 
+
+Or butchers killing flies, 
+
+Men, You have made good work, 
+
+
+342 
+
+
+You and your apron-men; you that stood so} Which will not prove a whip: as many cox- 
+
+
+much 
+Upon the voice of occupation and 
+The breath of garlic-eaters! 
+Com. He will shake 
+
+
+Your Rome about your ears. 
+Men. As Hercules 
+Did shake down mellow fruit. You have 
+made fair work! 100 
+
+
+Bru. But is this true, s‘r? 
+
+Com. Ay; and you'll look pale 
+Before you find it other. A\ll the regions 
+Do smilingly revolt; and who resist 
+Are mock’d for valiant ignorance, 
+
+And perish constant fools. Who is’t can 
+blame him? 
+Your enemies and his find something in him. 
+
+Men. We are undone, unless 
+The noble man have mercy. 
+
+
+Com. Who shall ask it? 
+The tribunes cannot do’t for shame; the 
+people 
+Deserve such pity of him as the wolf 110 
+
+
+Does of the shepherds: 
+if they 
+
+Should say ‘Be good to Rome,’ they charged 
+him even 
+
+As those should do that had deserved his hate 
+
+And therein show’'d like enemies. 
+
+Men. ‘Tis true: 
+If he were putting to my house the brand 
+That should consume it, I have not the face 
+To say ‘Beseech you, cease.’ You have made 
+
+fair hands, 
+You and your crafts! you have crafted fair! 
+
+Com. You have brought 
+A trembling upon Rome, such as was never 
+So incapable of help. 
+
+Both Tri. Say not we brought it. 120 
+
+Men. How! Was it we? we loved him; 
+
+but, like beasts 
+
+And cowardly nobles, gave way unto your 
+clusters, 
+
+Who did hoot him out o’ the city. 
+
+Com. . But I fear 
+They ‘Il roar him in again. Tullus Aufidius, 
+The second name of men, obeys his points 
+As if he were his officer: desperation 
+Is all the policy, strength and defence, 
+
+That Rome can make against them. 
+
+
+for his best friends, 
+
+
+Enter a troop of Citizens. 
+
+
+Men. Here come the clusters, 
+And is Aufidius with him? You are they 
+That made the air unwholesome, when you 
+
+cast 
+Your stinking greasy caps in hooting at 131 
+Coriolanus’ exile. Now he’s coming; 
+And not a hair upon a soldier’s head 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. VI] 
+
+
+combs 
+As you threw caps up will he tumble down, 
+And pay you for your voices. "Tis no matter; 
+If he could burn us all into one coal, 
+We have deserved it. 
+
+Citizens. Faith, we hear fearful news. 
+
+First Cit. For mine own part, 
+When I said, banish him, I said, ‘twas pity. 
+
+Sec. Cit. And so dd I. 
+
+Third Cit. And so did I; and, to say the 
+truth, so did very many of us: that we did, we 
+did for the best; and though we willingly 
+consented to his banishment, yet it was 
+against our will. 
+
+Com. Ye're goodly things, you voices! 
+
+Men. You have made 
+Good work, you and your cry! Shall’s to 
+
+the Capitol? 
+
+Com. O, ay, what else? 
+
+[Exeunt Cominius and Menenius. 
+
+Sic. Go, masters, get you home; be not 
+
+dismay'd: 150 
+These are a side that would be glad to have 
+This true which they so seem to fear. Go 
+
+home, 
+And show no sign of fear. 
+
+First Cit. The gods be good to us! cae 
+masters, let's home. I ever said we were 1 
+the wrong when we banished him, 
+
+
+Sec. Cit. So did we all. But, come, let's 
+home. [Exeunt Citizens, 
+Bru. 1 do*not like this news. 
+Sic. Nor I. 
+Bru. Let's to the Capitol. Would half 
+my wealth 160 
+Would buy this for a lie! 
+Sic. Pray, let us go. 
+[Exeunt. 
+Scene VII. A camp, at a small distance 
+
+
+from Rome. 
+Enter Auripius and his Lieutenant. 
+Auf. Do they still fly to the Roman? 
+
+
+Lieu. I do not know what witchcraft’s in 
+him, but 
+Your soldiers use him as the grace “fore meat, 
+Their talk at table, and their thanks at end; 
+And you are darken’d in this action, sir, 
+Even by your own. 
+Auf. I cannot help it now, 
+Unless, by using means, I lame the foot 
+Of our design. He bears himself more 
+proudlier, 
+Even to my person, than I thought he would 
+When first I did embrace him: yet his nature 
+In that’s no changeling; and I must excuse 
+What cannot be amended. 
+Lieu. Yet I wish, sir— 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+ai 
+
+
+Acr V, Sc. I) 
+
+
+Rite 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+a rl saEraenarEnsinEEnTESInnE HInnEISEIRIET SRE 
+
+
+I mean for your particular,—you had not 
+
+Join'd in commission with him; but either 
+
+Had borne the action of yourself, or else 
+
+To him had left it solely. 
+
+Auf. I understand thee well; and be thou 
+
+sure, 
+
+When he shall come to his account, he knows 
+not 
+
+What I can urge against him. Although it 
+seems, 
+
+And so he thinks, and is no less apparent 20 
+
+To the vulgar eye, that he bears all things 
+fairly, 
+
+And shows good husbandry for the Volscian 
+state, 
+
+Fights dragon-like, and does achieve as soon 
+
+As draw his sword; yet he hath left undone 
+
+That which shall break his neck or hazard 
+
+
+mine, 
+
+
+Whene’er we come to our account. 
+
+
+‘Lieu. Sir, I beseech you, think you he'll 
+carry Rome? 
+Auf. All places yield to him ere he sits 
+down; 
+And the nobility of Rome are his: 
+The senators and patricians love him too: 30 
+The tribunes are no soldiers; and their people 
+Will be as rash in the repeal, as hasty 
+To expel him thence. | think he ‘Il be to Rome 
+As is the osprey to the fish, who takes it 
+By sovereignty of nature. First he was 
+A noble servant to them; but he could not 
+Carry his honours even: whether ‘twas pride, 
+Which out of daily fortune ever taints 
+The happy man; whether defect of judge- 
+ment, 
+To fail in the disposing of those chances 40 
+Which he was lord of; or whether nature, 
+Not to be other than one thing, not moving 
+From the casque to the cushion, but com- 
+manding peace 
+Even with the same austerity and garb 
+As he controll'd the war; but one of these— 
+As he hath spices of them all, not all, 
+For I dare so far free him—made him fear'd, 
+So hated, and so banish’d: but he has a merit, 
+To choke it in the utterance, So our virtues 
+Lie in the interpretation of the time: 
+And power, unto itself most commendable, 
++Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair 
+To extol what it hath done. 
+
+
+One fire drives out one fire; one nail, one 
+
+
+nail; 
+Rights by rights falter, strengths by strengths 
+oO fail. 
+Come, let's away. When, Caius, Rome is 
+: thine, 
+Thou art poor’st of all; then shortly art thou 
+mine. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+843 
+ACT V. 
+Scene I. Rome. A public place. 
+Enter MeNeENiUs, ComINIUs, SIcINUS, 
+
+
+Brutus, and others. 
+Men. No, I'll not go: you hear what he 
+hath said 
+
+
+Which was sometime his general; who loved 
+him 
+
+
+In a most dear particular, He call’d me 
+father: 
+
+But wets o’ that? Go, you that banish'd 
+im; 
+
+
+A mile before his tent fall down, and knee 
+The way into his mercy: nay, if he coy’d 
+To hear Cominous speak, I ‘Il keep at home. 
+
+Com, He would not seem to know me. 
+
+Men. Do you hear? 
+
+Com. Yet one time did he call me by my 
+
+name: 
+I urged our old acquaintance, and the drops 
+That we have bled together. Coriolanus 
+He would not answer to; forbad all names; 
+He was a kind of nothing, titleless, 
+Till he had forged himself a name o’ the fire 
+Of burning Rome. 
+
+Men. Why, so: you have made good work! 
+A pair of tribunes that have rack’d for Rome, 
+To make coals cheap,—a noble memory! 
+
+Com. I minded him how royal ‘twas to 
+
+pardon 
+When it was less expected: he replied, 
+It was a bare petition of a state 
+To one whom they had punish’d. 
+
+Men. Very well: 
+Could he say less? 
+
+Com, I offer’d to awaken his regard 
+For ’s private friends: his answer to me was, 
+He could not stay to pick them in a pile 
+Of noisome musty chaff: he said ‘twas folly, 
+For one poor grain or two, to leave unburnt, 
+And still to nose the offence. 
+
+Men. For one poor grain or two! 
+I am one of those; his mother, wife, his child, 
+And this brave fellow too, we are the grains: 
+You are the musty chaff; and you are smelt 
+
+
+0 | Above the moon: we must be burnt for you. 
+
+
+Sic. Nay, pray, be patient: if you refuse 
+your aid 
+In this so never-needed help, yet do not 
+Upbraid 's with our distress. But, sure, if you 
+Would be your country’s pleader, your good 
+tongue, 
+More than the instant army we can make, 
+Might stop our countryman. 
+Men. No, I'll not meddle. 
+ic. Pray you, go to him. 
+What should I do? 
+
+
+844 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+[Act Vv, Sevtk: 
+
+
+Bru. Qnly make trial what your love can 
+do 40 
+For Rome, towards Marcius. 
+
+Men. Well, and say that Marcius 
+Return me, as Cominius is reiurn’d, 
+Unheard; what then? 
+
+But as a discontented friend, grief-shot 
+With his unkindness? say 't be so? 
+
+
+Sic. Yet your good will 
+Must have that thanks from Rome, after the 
+measure 
+As you intended well. 
+Men. I'll undertake ’t: 
+
+
+I think he'll hear me. Yet, to bite his lip 
+
+And hum at good Cominius, much unhearts 
+me. 
+
+He was not taken well; he had not dined: 50 
+
+The veins unfill’d, our blood is cold, and then 
+
+We pout upon the morning, are unapt 
+
+To give or to forgive; but when we have 
+stuff'd 
+
+These pipes and these conveyances of our 
+blood 
+
+With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls 
+
+Than in our priest-like fasts: therefore I ‘ll 
+watch him 
+
+Till he be deted to my request, 
+
+And then I'll set upon him. 
+
+Bru. You know the very road into his 
+
+kindness, 
+
+And cannot lose your way. 
+
+
+Men. Good faith, I ll prove him, 60 
+Speed how it will. J shall ere long have 
+knowledge 
+Of my success. [ Exit. 
+Com. He'll never hear him. 
+Sic. Not? 
+
+
+Com. I tell you, he does sit in gold, his eye 
+Red as ‘twould burn Rome; and his injury 
+The gaoler to his p‘ty. 1 kneel’d before him; 
+"Twas very faintly he. said ‘Rise;’ dismiss’d 
+
+
+me 
+
+Thus, with his speechless hand; what he 
+would’ do, 
+
+He sent in writing after me; what he would 
+
+
+not, 
+Bound with an oath to yield to his conditions: 
+So that all hope is vain, 
+Unless h’s noble mother, and his wife; 
+Who, as I hear, mean to solicit him 
+For mercy to his country. Therefore, let's 
+
+
+hence, 
+And with our fair entreaties haste them on. 
+[Exeunt. 
+Scene IJ. Entrance of the Volscian camp 
+
+
+before Rome. Two Sentinels on guard, 
+Enter to them, MENENIUs. 
+
+
+First Sen. Stay: whence are you? 
+
+
+Sec. Sen. Stand, and go back. 
+Men. You guard like men; ‘tis well: but, 
+by your leave, 
+I am an officer of state, and come 
+To speak with Coriolanus. 
+
+First Sen. From whence? 
+
+Men. From Rome. 
+
+First Sen. You may not pass, you must 
+
+return: our general 
+Will no more hear from thence. j 
+Sec. Sen. You'll see your Rome embraced 
+w.th fire before 
+To speak with Coriolanus. 
+
+Men. Good my friends, 
+If you have heard your general talk of Rome, 
+And of his friends there, it is lots to blanks, 
+My name hath touch’d your ears: it is Mene- 
+
+
+nius, 
+First Sen. Be it so; go back: the virtue of 
+your name j : 
+Is not here passable. 
+Men. I tell thee, fellow, 
+
+
+Thy general is my lover: I have been 
+
+The book of his good acts, whence men have 
+read 
+
+His fame unparallel’d, haply amplified; 
+
+For I have ever +verified my friends, 
+
+Of whom he’s chief, with all the size that 
+verity 
+
+Would without lapsing suffer: nay, sometimes, 
+
+Like to a bowl upon a subtle ground, 
+
+I have tumbled past the throw; and in his 
+
+
+praise « 
+Have almost stamp'd the leasing: therefore, 
+fellow, 
+
+
+I must have leave to pass. 
+
+First Sen. Faith, sir, if you had teld as 
+many lies in his behalf as you have uttered 
+words in your own, you should not pass here; 
+no, though it were as virtuous to lie as to live 
+chastely. Therefore, go back. 
+
+Men. Prithee, fellow, remember my name 
+is Menenius, always factionary en the party of 
+your general. 31 
+
+Sec. Sen. Howsoever you have been his 
+liar, as you say you have, I am one that, tell- 
+ing true under him, must say, you cannot pass, 
+
+
+0| Therefore, go back. 
+
+
+Men. Hath he dined, canst thou tell? for 
+I would not speak with him till after dinner. 
+First Sen. You are a Roman, are you? 
+Men. | am, as thy general is. 39 
+First Sen. Then you should hate Rome, as 
+he does. Can you, when you have pushed out 
+your gates the very defender of them, and, in 
+a violent popular ignorance, given your enemy 
+your shield, think to front his revenges with 
+the easy groans of old women, the virg‘nal 
+palms of your daughters, or with the palsied 
+
+
+‘. 
+
+
+7 
+
+
+Ay 
+
+
+pea 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. Ill] 
+
+
+intercession of such a decayed dotant as you 
+seem to be? Can you think to blow out the 
+intended fire your city is ready to flame in, 
+with such weak breath as this? No, you are 
+deceived; therefore, back to Rome, and pre- 
+pare for your execution: you are condemned, 
+our general has sworn you out of reprieve 
+and pardon. 
+
+Men. Sirrah, if thy captain knew I were 
+
+here, he would use me with estimation. 
+
+First Sen. Come, my captain knows you 
+not. 
+
+Men. I mean, thy general. 
+
+First Sen. My general cares not for you. 
+Back, I say, go; lest I let forth your half-pint 
+of blood; back,—that’s the utmost of your 
+having: back. 
+
+Men. Nay, but, fellow, fellow— 
+
+
+Enter CorioLanus and AvurFipius, 
+
+
+Cor. What's the matter? 
+
+Men. Now, you companion, I'll say an er- 
+rand for you: you shall know now that | am 
+in estimation; you shall perceive that a Jack 
+guardant cannot office me from my son Corto- 
+Janus: guess, but by my entertainment with 
+him, if thou standest not i’ the state of hang- 
+ing, or of some death more long in spectator- 
+ship, and crueller in suffering; behold now 
+presently, and swoon for what's to come upon 
+thee. [To Cor.] The glorous gods sit in 
+hourly synod about thy particular prosperity, 
+and love thee no worse than thy old father 
+Menenius does! O my son, my son! thou art 
+preparing fire for us; look thee, here 's water 
+to quench it. I was hardly moved to come to 
+thee; but being assured none but myself could 
+move thee, I have been blown out of your 
+gates with sighs; and conjure thee to pardon 
+Rome, and thy petitionary countrymen. The 
+good gods assuage thy wrath, and turn the 
+dregs of it upon this varlet here—this, who, 
+like a block, hath denied my access to thee 
+
+Cor. Away! ; 
+
+Men. How! away! 
+
+Cor. Wife, mother, child, I know not. My 
+
+affairs 
+Axe servanted to others: though I owe 
+My revenge properly, my remission lies 90 
+In Velscian breasts. That we have been fa- 
+miliar, 
+{ngrate forgetfulness shall poison, rather 
+Than pity note how much. Therefore, be gone. 
+Mine ears against your suits are stronger than 
+Your gates against my force. Yet, for I loved 
+thee, 
+Take this along; I writ it for thy sake, 
+
+
+[Gives a letter. | 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+845 
+
+And would have sent it. Another word, 
+Menen_us, 
+
+I will not hear thee speak. This man, 
+Aufdius, 
+
+
+Was my beloved in Rome: yet thou behold’st! 
+Auf. You keep a constant temper. 100 
+[Exeunt Coriolanus and Aufidius, 
+
+First Sen. Now, sir, is your name Mene- 
+
+nius > 
+
+Sec. Sen. "Tis a spell, you see, of much 
+power: you know the way home again. 
+
+First Sen. Do you hear how we are shent 
+for keeping your greatness back? 
+
+Sec. Sen. What cause, do you think, I have 
+to swoon? 
+
+Men. I neither care for the world nor your 
+general: for such things as you, | can scarce 
+think there's any, ye re so slight. He that 
+hath a will to die by himself fears it not from 
+another: let your general do his worst. For 
+you. be that you are, long; and your misery 
+increase with your age! I say to you, as I 
+was said to, Away! Exit. 
+
+First Sen. A noble fellow, 1 warrant him. 
+
+Sec. Sen. The worthy fellow is our gen- 
+eral: he’s a rock, the oak not to be wind- 
+shaken. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene Ill. The ieni of Coriolanus. 
+
+
+Enter CoriotaNnus, Auripius, and others. 
+Cor. We will before the walls of Rome 
+
+
+to-morrow 
+Set down our host. My partner in this action, 
+You must report to the Volscian lords, how 
+
+
+plainly 
+I have borne this business. 
+Auf. Only their ends 
+
+
+You have respected: stopp’d your ears against 
+The general suit of Rome; never admitted 
+A private whisper, no, not with such friends 
+That thought them sure of you. 
+Cor. This last old man, 
+Whom with a crack’d heart I have sent to 
+Rome, 
+Loved me above the measure of a father; 10 
+Nay, godded me, indeed. Their latest refuge 
+Was to send him; for whose old love | have. 
+Though I show'd sourly to him, once more 
+offer’d 
+The first conditions, which they did refuse 
+And cannot now accept; to grace him only 
+That thought he could do more, a very little 
+I have yielded to: fresh embassies and suits, 
+Nor from the state nor private friends, here- 
+after 
+Will I lend ear to. Ha! what shout is this? 
+[Shout within. 
+Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow 20 
+In the same time ‘tis made? I will not. 
+
+
+846 
+
+
+Enter, in mourning habits, Vircitia, Vo- 
+LUMNIA, leading young Marcius, VALERIA, 
+and Attendants. 
+
+My wife comes foremost; then the honour’d 
+
+mould 
+
+Wherein this trunk was framed, and in her 
+
+
+hand 
+
+The grandchild to her blood. But, out, affec- 
+tion! 
+
+All bond and privilege of nature, break! 
+
+Let it be virtuous to be obstinate. 
+
+What is that curt’sy worth? or those doves’ 
+
+
+eyes, 
+
+Which can make gods forsworn? I melt, and 
+am not 
+
+Of stronger earth than others. My mother 
+bows; 
+
+
+As if Olympus to a molehill should 
+
+In supplication nod: and my young boy 
+Hath an aspect of intercession, which 
+
+Great nature cries ‘Deny not.’ Let the Volsces 
+Plough Rome, and harrow Italy: I'll never 
+
+Be such a gosling to obey instinct, but stand, 
+As if a man were author of himself 
+
+And knew no other kin, 
+
+Vir. My lord and husband! 
+
+Cor. These eyes are not the same I wore 
+
+in Rome. 
+
+Vir. The sorrow 
+
+changed 
+Makes you think so. 
+Cor. Like a dull actor now, 
+{ have forgot my part, and [ am out, 
+Even to a full disgrace. Best of my flesh, 
+Forgive my tyranny; but do not say 
+For that ‘Forgive our Romans.’ O, a kiss 
+Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge! 
+Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss 
+I carried from thee, dear; and my true lip 
+Hath virgin’d it e’er since. You gods! I prate, 
+And the most noble mother of the world 
+Leave unsaluted: sink, my knee, i’ the earth; 
+[Kneels. 
+Of thy deep duty more impression show 51 
+Than that of common sons. 
+
+Vol. O, stand up blest! 
+Whilst, with no softer cush’on than the flint, 
+I kneel before thee; and unproperly 
+Show duty, as mistaken all this while 
+Between the child and parent. [Kneels. 
+
+Cor. What is this? 
+Your knees to me? to your corrected son? 
+Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach 
+Fillip the stars; then let the mut nous winds 
+Strike the proud cedars ‘gainst the fiery sun; 
+Murdering impossibil ty, to make 
+What cannot be, slight work. 
+
+Vol. Thou art my warrior; 
+{ holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady? 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+that delivers us thus 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. I] 
+
+
+Cor. The noble sister of Publicola, 
+
+The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle 
+That's curdied by the frost from purest snow 
+And hangs on Dian’s temple: dear Valeria! 
+
+Vol. This is a poor epitome of yours, 
+Which by the interpretation of full time 
+May show like all yourself, 
+
+Cor. The god of soldiers, 70 
+With the consent of supreme Jove, inform 
+Thy thoughts with nobleness; that thou mayst 
+
+prove 
+To shame unvulnerable, and stick i’ the wars 
+Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw, 
+And saving those that eye thee! 
+Vol. Your knee, sirrah. 
+
+
+Cor. That's my brave boy! 
+Vol. Even he, your wife, this lady, and 
+myself, 
+Are suitors to you. 
+Cor. I beseech you, peace: 
+
+
+Or, if you ‘ld ask, remember this before: 
+The thing I have forsworn to grant may never 
+Be held by your denials. Do not bid me 81 
+Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate 
+Again with Rome's mechanics: tell me not 
+Wherein I seem unnatural: desire not 
+To allay my rages and revenges with 
+Your colder reasons. 
+
+Vol. O, no more, no more! 
+You have said you will not grant us any 
+
+thing; 
+
+For we have nothing else to ask, but that 
+Which you derty already: yet we will ask; 
+That, if you fail in our request, the blame 90 
+May hang upon your hardness: therefore, 
+
+
+hear us. 
+Cor. Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark; for 
+we ‘Il 
+Hear nought from Rome in private. Your 
+request > 
+
+
+Vol. Should we be silent and not speak, 
+our raiment 
+And state of bodies would bewray what life 
+We have led since thy exile. Think with 
+thyself 
+How more unfortunate than all living women 
+Are we come hither: since that thy sight, 
+wh'ch should 
+Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance 
+with comforts, 
+Constrains them weep and shake with fear 
+and sorrow; 100 
+Making the mother, wife and child to see 
+The son, the husband and the father tearing 
+His country’s bowels out. And to poor we 
+Thine enmity’s most capital: thou barr’st us 
+Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort 
+That all but we enjoy; for how can we, 
+
+
+| Alas. how can we for our country pray, 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. HI] 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+847 
+
+
+a rE 
+
+
+Whereto we are bound, together with thy 
+
+
+victory, 
+
+Whereto we are bound? alack, or we must 
+lose 
+
+The country, our dear nurse, or else thy person, 
+
+
+‘Our comfort in the country. We must find 
+
+
+An evident calamity, though we had 
+
+Our wish, which side should win: for either 
+thou 
+
+Must, as a foreign recreant, be led 
+
+With manacles through our streets, or else 
+
+Triumphantly tread on thy country’s ruin, 
+
+And bear the palm for having bravely shed 
+
+Thy wife and children’s blood. For myself, 
+son, 
+
+I purpose not to wait on fortune till 
+
+These wars determine: if I cannot persuade 
+
+
+thee 120 
+
+
+Rather to show a noble grace to both parts 
+
+
+Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner 
+March to assault thy country than to tread— 
+Trust to’t, thou shalt not—on thy mother’s 
+
+
+womb, 
+That brought thee to this world. 
+Vir. Ay, and mine, 
+That brought you forth this boy, to keep your 
+name 
+
+
+Living to time. 
+
+Young Mar. A’ shall not tread on me; 
+I'll run away till I am bigger, but then I ‘Il 
+
+fight. 
+
+Cor. Not of a woman's tenderness to be, 
+Requires nor child nor woman's face to see. 
+I have sat too long. [Rising. 
+
+Vol. Nay, go not from us thus. 
+If it were so that our request did tend 
+To save the Romans, thereby to destroy 
+The Volsces whom you serve, you might con- 
+
+demn us, 
+As poisonous of your honour: no; our suit 
+Is, that you reconcile them: while the Volsces 
+May say ‘This mercy we have show'd;’ the 
+Romans, 
+*This we received;’ and each in either side 
+Give the all-hail to thee,»and cry ‘Be blest. 
+For making up this peace!’ Thou know’st, 
+great son, 140 
+The end of war's uncertain, but this certain, 
+That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit 
+Which thou shalt thereby reap is such a name, 
+Whose. repetition will be dogg’d with curses; 
+Whose chronicle thus writ: “The man was 
+noble, 
+But with his last attempt he wiped it out; 
+Destroy’d his country, and his name remains 
+To the ensuing age abhorr'd.’ Speak to me, 
+son: 
+Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour, 
+To imitate the graces of the gods; 150 
+
+
+To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o’ the 
+air, 
+
+And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt 
+
+That should but rive an oak. Why dost not 
+speak ? 
+
+Think’st thou it honourable for a noble man 
+
+Still to remember wrongs? Daughter, speak 
+you: 
+
+He cares not for your weeping. Speak thou, 
+
+
+joy : 
+Perhaps thy childishness will move him more 
+Than can our reasons. There’s no man in 
+the world 
+More bound to’s mother; yet here he lets me 
+prate 
+Like one i’ the stocks. Thou hast never in thy 
+life 160 
+Show’d thy dear mother any courtesy, 
+When she, poor hen, fond of no second brood, 
+Has cluck'd thee to the wars and safely home, 
+Loaden with honour. Say my request ’s unjust, 
+And spurn me back: but if it be not so, 
+Thou art not honest; and the gods will plague 
+thee, 
+That thou restrain’st from me the duty which 
+To a mother’s part belongs. He turns away: 
+Down, ladies; let us shame him with our 
+knees. 
+To his surname Coriolanus ‘longs more pride 
+Than pity to our prayers. Down: an end; 
+This is the last: so we will home to Rome. 
+And die among our neighbours. Nay, be- 
+hold 's: 
+This boy, that cannot tell what he would have, 
+But kneels and holds up hands for fellowship, 
+Does reason our petition with more strength 
+Than thou hast to deny 't. Come, let us go: 
+This fellow had a Volscian to his mother; 
+His wife is in Corioli and his child 
+Like him by chance, Yet give us our dispatch: 
+I am hush’d until our city be afire, 181 
+And then I'll speak a little. [He holds her by 
+the hand, silent. 
+
+
+Cor. O mother, mother! 
+What have you done? Behold, the heavens 
+do ope, 
+
+
+The gods look down, and this unnatural scene 
+They laugh at. O my mother, mother! O! 
+You have won a happy victory to Rome; 
+But, for your son,—believe it, O, believe it, 
+Most dangerously you have with him pre- 
+vail'd, 
+If not most mortal to him. But, let come. 
+Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars, 
+I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Au- 
+fidius, 
+Were you in my stead, would you have heard 
+A mother less? or granted less, Aufidius? 
+Auf. I was moved withal. 
+
+
+848 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+a 
+- 
+
+
+_[Acr V, Sc. V 
+
+
+Cor. I dare be sworn you were: 
+And, sir, it is no little thing to make 
+Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But, good sir, 
+What peace you'll make, advise me: for my 
+art, 
+Ill not to Rome, I'll back with you; and 
+pray you, 
+Stand to me in this cause. O mother! wife! 
+Auf. [Aside] 1 am glad thou hast set thy 
+mercy and thy honour 200 
+At difference in thee: out of that I ‘ll work 
+Myself a former fortune, 
+[The Ladies make signs to Coriolanus, 
+Cor. Ay, by and by; 
+[To Volumnia, Virgilia, &c. 
+But we will drink together; and you shall bear 
+A better witness back than words, which we. 
+On like conditions, will have counter-seal’d. 
+Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserve 
+To have a temple built you: all the swords 
+In Italy, and her confederate arms, 
+
+
+Could not have made this peace. [Exeunt. 209 
+
+
+Scene IV. Rome. A public place. 
+Enter MENENIUS and SiciINIUS, 
+
+
+Men. See you yond coign o’ the Capitol, 
+yond corner-stone> 
+
+Sic. Why, what of that? 
+
+Men. If it be possible for you to displace 
+it with your little finger, there is some hope the 
+ladies of Rome, especially his mother, may 
+prevail with him. But I say there is no hope 
+int; our throats are sentenced and stay upon 
+execution, 
+
+Sic. Is’t possible that so short a time can 
+alter the condition of a man? 10 
+
+Men. There is differency between a grub 
+and a butterfly; yet your butterfly was a grub. 
+This Marcius is grown from man to dragon: 
+he has wings; he is more than a creeping thing. 
+
+Sic. He loved his mother dearly. 
+
+Men. So.did he me: and he no more re- 
+members his mother now than an eight-year- 
+old horse. The tartness of his face sours ripe 
+grapes: when he walks, he moves like an 
+engine, and the ground shrinks before his 
+treading: he is able to pierce a corslet w th his 
+eye; talks like a knell, and his hum is a bat- 
+tery. He sits in his state, as a thing made for 
+Alexander. What he bids be done is finished 
+with his bidding. He wants nothing of a god 
+but eternity and a heaven to throne in. _ 
+
+Sic. Yes, mercy, if you report him truly. 
+
+Men. | paint him in the character. Mark 
+what mercy h’s mother shall bring from him: 
+there is no more mercy in him than there is 
+milk in a male tiger; that shall our poor city 
+find: and all this is long of you. 
+
+Sic. The gods be good unto us! 
+
+
+Men. No, in such a case the gods will not 
+be good unto us. When we banished him, we 
+respected not them; and, he returning to 
+break our necks, they respect not us. 
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+Mess. Sir, if you'ld save your life, fly to 
+your house: 
+The plebe.ans have got your fellow-tribune 
+And hale him up and down, all swearing, if 
+The Roman ladies bring not comfort home, 
+They ‘Il give him death by inches. 
+
+
+Enter a second Messenger. 
+
+
+Sic. What's the news? 
+Sec. Mess. Good news, good news; the 
+ladies have prevail’d, 
+The Volscians are dislodged, and Marcius 
+gone: 
+A merrier day did never yet greet Rome, 
+No, nat the expulsion of the Tarquins. 
+Sic. Friend, 
+Art thou certain this is true? is it most certain? 
+Sec. Mess. As certain as I know the sun 
+is fire: 
+Where have you lurk’d, that you make doubt 
+of it? 49 
+Ne’er through an arch so hurried the blown tide, 
+As the recomforted through the gates. Why, 
+hark you! [Trumpets; hautboys; drums 
+beat; all together. 
+The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries and fifes, 
+Tabors and cymbals and the shouting Romans, 
+Make the sun dance. Hark you! 
+[A shout within. 
+Men. This is good news: 
+I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia 
+Is worth of consuls, senators, patricians, 
+A city full; of tribunes, such as you, 
+A sea and land full. You have pray’d well 
+to-day: 
+This morning for ten thousand of your throats 
+I ‘ld not have given a doit. Hark, how they 
+joy! [Music still, with shouts. 
+Sic. First, the gods bless you for your 
+tidings; next, 
+Accept my thankfulness. 
+Sec. Mess. Sir, we have all 
+Great cause to give great thanks. 
+Sic. They are near the city? 
+Sec. Mess. Almost at point to enter. 
+Sic. We will meet them, 
+And help the joy. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+SceNE V. The same, A street near the gate. 
+
+
+Enter two Senators with VoLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, 
+VALERIA, &c., passing over the stage, fol- 
+lowed by Patricians, and others. 
+
+
+FirstSen. Behold our patroness, the life 
+of Rome! 
+
+
+® Act V,)Se-Vil 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS- 
+
+
+849 
+
+
+ily cummin 
+
+
+Call all your tribes together, praise the gods, 
+
+
+‘And make triumphant fires; strew flowers be- 
+
+
+fore them: 
+Unshout the nose that banish’d Marcius, 
+Repeal him with the welcome of his mother ; 
+Cry ‘Welcome, ladies, welcome!’ 
+5 Welcome, ladies, 
+Welcome! [A flourish with drums and_trum- 
+pets. Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene VI. Antium. A public place. 
+Enter Tuttus Aurivius, with Attendants. 
+
+
+Auf. Go tell the lords 0’ the city I am here: 
+Deliver them this paper: having read it, 
+Bid them repair to the market-place; where I, 
+Even in theirs and in the commons’ ears, 
+Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse 
+The city ports by this hath enter’d and 
+
+
+Intends to appear before the people, hoping 
+
+
+To purge himself with words: dispatch. 
+[Exeunt Attendants. 
+
+
+Enter three or four Conspirators of AUFIDIUS" 
+faction. 
+
+
+_ Most. welcome! 
+
+
+First Con. How is it with our general? 
+Auf. Even so 
+As with a man by his own alms empoison’d, 
+
+And with his charity slain. 
+Sec. Con. Most noble sir, 
+
+If you do hold the same intent wherein 
+
+You wish'd us parties, we ‘ll deliver you 
+
+Of your great danger. 
+‘Auf. Sir, I cannot tell: 
+
+We must proceed as we do find the people. 
+Third Con. The people will remain un- 
+
+certain whilst 
+*Twixt you there’s difference; but the fall 
+
+
+of either 
+Makes the survivor heir of all. 
+Auf. I know it; 
+
+
+And my pretext to strike at him admits 20 
+
+A good construction, I raised him, and I 
+pawn’d 
+
+Mine honour for his truth: who being so 
+heighten’d, 
+
+He water’d his new plants with dews of flattery, 
+
+Seducing so my friends; and, to this end, 
+
+He bow’d his nature, never known before 
+
+But to be rough, unswayable and free. 
+
+Third Con. Sir, his stoutness 
+When he did stand for consul, which he lost 
+By lack of stooping,— 
+
+Auf. That I would have spoke of; 
+Being banish’d for "t, he came unto my hearth; 
+Presented to my knife his throat: I took him; 
+Made him joint-servant with me; gave him 
+
+way 
+In all his own desires; nay. let him choose 
+
+
+Out of my files, his projects to accomplish, 
+
+My best and freshest men; served his design- 
+ments 
+
+In mine own person; holp to reap the fame 
+
+Which he did end all his; and took some pride 
+
+To do myself this wrong: till, at the last, 
+
+I seem’d his follower, not partner, and 
+
+He waged me with his countenance, as if 40 
+
+I had been mercenary. 
+
+First Con. So he did, my lord: 
+The army marvell’d at it, and, in the last, 
+When he had carried Rome and that we look’d 
+For no less spoil than glory,-— 
+
+Auf. here was it: 
+For which my sinews shall be stretch’d upon 
+
+him. 
+At a few drops of women’s rheum, which are 
+As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour 
+Of our great action: therefore shall he die, 
+And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark! 
+[Drums and trumpets sound, with great 
+shouls of the People. 
+First Con. Your native town you enter'd 
+like a post, F 
+And had no welcomes home; but he returns, 
+Splitting the air with noise. 
+
+Sec. Con. And patient fools, 
+
+Whose children he hath slain, their base 
+throats tear 
+With giving him glory. 
+
+Third Con. Therefore, at your vantage, 
+Ere he express himself, or move the people 
+With what he would say, let him feel your 
+
+sword, 
+Which we will second. When he lies along, 
+After your way his tale pronounced shall bury 
+His reasons with h's body. 
+Auf. Say no more: 
+
+
+Here come the lords. 60 
+Enter the Lords of the city. 
+
+
+All the Lords. You are most welcome home. 
+Auf. I have not deserved it. 
+But, worthy lords, have you with heed perused 
+What I have written to you? 
+We have. 
+
+
+Lords. 
+
+First Lord. _ And grieve to hear 't. 
+What faults he made before the last, I think 
+Might have found easy fines: but there to end 
+Where he was to begin and give away 
+The benefit of our levies, answering us 
+With our own charge, making a treaty where 
+There was a yielding,—this admits no excuse. 
+
+Auf. He approaches: you shall hear him. 
+
+
+Enter Coriocanus, marching with drum and 
+colours; Commoners being with him. 
+
+
+Cor. Hail, lords! | am return’d your soldier, 
+No more infected with my country’s love 
+
+
+850 
+
+
+Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting 
+Under your great command, You are to know 
+That prosperously I have attempted and 
+With bloody passage led your wars even to 
+The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have 
+brought home 
+
+Do more than counterpo‘se a full third part 
+The charges of the action. We have made 
+
+
+peace 
+With no less honour to the Antiates 80 
+Than shame to the Romans: and we here 
+deliver, 
+
+
+Subscribed by the consuls and patricians, 
+Together with the seal o’ the senate, what 
+We have compounded on. 
+Aof. Read it not, noble lords; 
+But tell the traitor, in the high’st degree 
+He hath abused your powers. 
+Cor. Traitor! how now! 
+Auf. Ay, traitor, Marcius! 
+Cor. Marcius! 
+Auf. Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius: dost 
+thou think 
+{ll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol’n 
+name 
+Coriolanus in Corioli? 90 
+You lords and heads o’ the state, perfidiously 
+He has betray’d your business, and given up, 
+For certain drops of salt, your city Rome, 
+I say ‘your city,’ to his wife and mother; 
+Breaking his oath and resolution like 
+A twist of rotten silk, never admitting 
+Counsel o’ the war, but at his nurse’s tears 
+He whined and roar’'d away your victory, 
+That pages blush’d at him and men of heart 
+Look'’d wondering each at other. 
+Cor. Hear’st thou, Mars? 100 
+Auf. Name not the god, thou boy of tears! 
+Cor. Ha! 
+Auf. No more. 
+Cor. Measureless liar, thou hast made my 
+heart 
+Too great for what contains it. Boy! Ovslave! 
+Pardon me, lords, ‘tis the first time that ever 
+I was forced to scold. Your judgements, my 
+grave lords, 
+Must give this cur the lie: and his own notion— 
+Who wears my stripes impress’d upon him; 
+that 
+Must bear my beating to his grave—shall join 
+To thrust the lie’ unto him. 110 
+First Lord. Peace, both, and hear me speak. 
+Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volsces; men and 
+lads, 
+Stain all your edges on me. Boy! false hound! 
+If you have writ your annals true, ‘tis there, 
+That, like an eagle in a dove-cote, | 
+Flutter’'d your Volscians in Corioli: 
+
+
+CORIOLANUS 
+
+
+iAcr V, Sc. VI 
+
+
+Alone I did it. Boy! 
+
+Auf. Why, noble lords, 
+Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, 
+Which was your shame, by this unholy brag- 
+
+
+gart, 
+"Fore your own eyes and ears? 
+All Consp. Let him die for’t. 120 
+
+
+All the people. “Tear him to pieces.’ ‘Do 
+it presently. ‘He killed my son. ‘My 
+daughter. ‘He klled my cousin Marcus.’ 
+‘He killed my father.’ 
+
+Sec. Lord. Peace, ho! no outrage: peace! 
+The man is noble and his fame folds-in 
+This orb 0’ the earth. His last offences to us 
+Shall have judicious hearing. 
+And trouble not the peace. 
+
+Cor. O that I had him, 
+With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe, 130 
+To use my lawful sword! 
+
+Auf. Insolent villain! 
+
+All Consp. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him! 
+
+[The Conspirators draw, and kill Corio- 
+lanus: Aufidius stands on his body. 
+
+Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold! 
+
+Auf. My noble masters, hear me speak. 
+
+First Lord. O Tullus,— 
+
+Sec. Lord. Thou hast done a deed whereat 
+
+valour will weep. 
+
+Third Lord. Tread not upon him. Mas- 
+
+ters all, be quiet; 
+
+Put up your swords. 
+
+Auf. My lords, when you shall know—as 
+
+in this rage, 
+
+Provoked by him, you cannot—the great 
+danger ; 
+
+Which this man’s life did owe you, you'll 
+rejoice 
+
+That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours 
+
+To call me to your senate, I'll deliver 141 
+
+Myself your loyal servant, or endure 
+
+Your heaviest censure. 
+
+First Lord. Bear from hence his body; 
+And mourn you for him: let him be regarded 
+As the most noble corse that ever herald 
+Did follow to his urn. 
+
+Sec. Lord. His own impatience 
+Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame. 
+Let’s make the best of it. 
+
+Auf. My rage is gone; 
+And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up. 
+Help, three o’ the chiefest soldiers; I ‘Il be one. 
+Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully: 
+Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he 
+Hath wdow’'d and unchilded many a one, 
+Which to this hour bewail the injury, 
+
+Yet he shall have a noble memory. 
+Assist. [Exeunt, bearing the body of Corio- 
+lanus, A dead march sounded, 
+
+
+Stand, Aufidius, |. 
+
+
+ee a ee 
+
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+DRAMATIS 
+
+
+-SATURNINUS, son to the late Emperor of 
+Rome, and afterwards declared Emperor. 
+BassiaNus, brother to Saturninus; in love 
+with Lavinia. 
+Titus ANpronicus, a noble Roman, gene- 
+ral against the Goths. 
+Marcus ANDRONICUS, 
+and brother to Titus. 
+Lucius, 
+», QuINTus, 
+Martius, 
+Mutivus, 
+Younc Lucius, a boy, son to Lucius. 
+Pus.ius, Son to Marcus the Tribune. 
+SEMPRONIUS, 
+Caius, 
+VALENTINE, 
+
+
+tribune of the people, 
+
+
+sons to Titus Andronicus. 
+
+
+{ise to Titus, 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+
+
+Scene I. Rome. Before the Capitol. 
+
+
+The Tomb of ANDRONICI appearing; the 
+Tribunes and Senators aloft. Enter, below, 
+from one side, SATURNINUS and his Fol- 
+lowers; and, from the other side, Bas- 
+siaNus and his Followers; with drum and 
+colours. 
+
+Sat. Noble patricians, patrons of my right, 
+Defend the justice of my cause with arms, 
+And, countrymen, my loving followers, 
+
+Plead my successive title with your swords: 
+
+I am his first-born son, that was the last 
+
+That ware the imperial diadem of Rome; 
+
+Then let my father’s honours live in me, 
+
+Nor wrong mine age with this indignity. 
+
+Bas. Romans, friends, followers, favourers 
+
+of my right, 
+
+If ever Bassianus, Czsar’s son, 10 
+
+Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome, 
+
+Keep then this passage to the Capitol 
+
+And suffer not dishonour to approach 
+
+The imperial seat, to virtue consecrate, 
+
+To justice, continence and nobility; 
+
+But let desert in pure election shine, 
+
+And, Romans, fight for freedom in your 
+
+choice. 
+
+
+Enter Marcus Anpronicus, aloft, with the 
+cron, 
+
+
+Marc. Princes, that strive by factions and 
+by friends 
+
+
+‘ALARBUS, 
+
+
+PERSON/E 
+FEmitivus, a noble Roman. 
+
+
+DEMETRIUS, son to Tamora, 
+
+CHIRON, 
+
+Aaron, a Moor, beloved by Tamora. 
+
+A Captain, Tribune, Messenger, and Clown; 
+Romans. 
+
+Goths and Romans. 
+
+Tamora, Queen of the Goths. 
+
+LaviniA, daughter to Titus Andronicus, 
+
+A Nurse. 
+
+Senators, Tribunes, Officers, Soldiers, and 
+
+Attendants. 
+
+
+ScENE: Rome, and the country near it, 
+
+
+Ambitiously for rule and empery, 
+
+Know that the people of Rome, for whom we 
+stand 20 
+
+A special party, have, by common voice, 
+
+In election for the Roman empery, 
+
+Chosen Andronicus, surnamed Pius 
+
+For many good and great deserts to Rome: 
+
+A nobler man, a braver warrior, 
+
+Lives not this day within the city walls; 
+
+He by the senate is accited home 
+
+From weary wars against the barbarous 
+Goths; 
+
+That, with his sons, a terror to our foes, 
+
+Hath yoked a nation strong, train’d up in 
+
+
+arms. 
+
+Ten years are spent since first he undertook 31 
+
+This cause of Rome and chastised with 
+arms 
+
+Our enemies’ pride: five times he hath re- 
+turn’d 
+
+
+Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons 
+
+In coffins from the field; 
+
+And now at last, laden with honour’s spoils, 
+
+Returns the good Andronicus to Rome, 
+
+Renowned Titus, flourishing in arms. 
+
+Let us entreat, by honour of his name, 
+
+Whom worthily you would have now succeed, 
+
+And in the Capitol and senate’s right, 4l 
+
+Whom you pretend to honour and adore, 
+
+That you withdraw you and abate your 
+strength; 
+
+Dismiss your followers and, as suitors should. 
+
+Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness. 
+
+
+$51 
+
+
+852 
+
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+oer > 
+nt 
+
+
+lg 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. { 
+
+
+Sat. How fair the tribune speaks to calm 
+my thoughts! 
+Bas. Marcus Andronicus, so I do affy 
+{n thy uprightness and integrity, 
+And so | love and honour thee and thine, 
+Thy noble brother Titus and his sons, 50 
+And her to whom my thoughts are humbled 
+all, 
+Gracious Lavinia, Rome's rich ornament, 
+That I will here dismiss thy loving friends, 
+And to my fortunes and the people's favour 
+Coinmit my cause in balance to be weigh’d. 
+[Exeunt the Followers of Bassianus. 
+Sat. Friends, that have been thus forward 
+in my right, 
+I thank you all and here dismiss you all, 
+And to the love and favour of my country 
+Commit myself, my person and the cause. 
+[Exeunt the Followers of Saturninus. 
+Rome, be as just and gracious unto me 60 
+As I am confident and kind to thee. 
+Open. the gates, and let me in. 
+Bas. Tribunes, and me, a poor competitor. 
+[Flourish. Saturninus and Bassianus go 
+up into the Capitol. 
+
+
+Enter a Captain, 
+
+
+Cap. Romans, make way: the good An- 
+dronicus, 
+Patron of virtue, Rome’s best champion, 
+Successful in the battles that he fights, 
+With honour and with fortune is return’d 
+From where he circumscribed with his sword, 
+And brought to yoke, the enemies of Rome. 
+
+
+Drums and trumpets sounded. Enter Mar- 
+Tius and Mutius; after them, two Men 
+bearing a ccffin covered with black; then 
+Lucius and Quintus, After them, Tirus 
+AnpbroNicus; and then Tamora, with 
+AarBus, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON, AARON, 
+and other Goths, prisoners; Soldiers and 
+People following. The Bearers set down 
+the coffin, and Titus speaks. 
+
+
+Tit. Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourn- 
+
+
+ing weeds! 7 
+
+Lo, as the bark, that hath discharged her 
+fraught, 
+
+Returns with precious lading to the bay 
+
+From whence at first she weigh'd her anchor- 
+age, 
+
+Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel boughs, 
+
+To re-salute his country with his tears, 
+
+Tears of true joy for his return to Rome. 
+
+Thou great defender of this Capitol, 
+
+Stand gracious to the rites that we intend! 
+
+Romans, of five and twenty valiant sons, 
+
+Half of the number that King Priam had, 80 
+
+Behold the poor remains, alive and dead! 
+
+These that survive let Rome reward with love; 
+
+
+These that I bring unto their latest home, 
+With burial amongst their ancestors: 
+
+
+| Here Goths have given me leave to sheathe — 
+
+
+my sword. 
+Titus, unkind and careless of thine own, 
+Why suffer’st thou thy sons, unburied yet, 
+To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx? 
+Make way to lay them by their brethren. 
+[The tomb is opened. 
+There greet in silence, as the dead are wont, 
+And sleep in peace, slain in your country’s 
+wars! 
+O sacred receptacle of my joys, 
+Sweet cell of virtue and nobility, 
+How many sons of mine hast thou in store, 
+That thou wilt never render to me more! 
+Luc. Give us the proudest prisoner of the 
+Goths, 
+That we may hew his limbs, and on a pile 
+Ad manes fratrum sacrifice his flesh, 
+Before this earthy prison of their bones; 
+That so the shadows be not unappeased. 100 
+Nor we disturb’d with prodigies on earth. 
+Tit. I give him you, the noblest that sur- 
+vives, 
+The eldest son of this distressed queen. 
+Tam. Stay, Roman brethren! Gracious 
+conqueror, 
+Victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed, 
+A mother’s tears in passion for her son: 
+And if thy sons were ever dear to thee, 
+O, think my son to be as dear to me! 
+Sufficeth not that we are brought to Rome, 
+To beautify thy triumphs and return, 110 
+Captive to thee and to thy Roman yoke, 
+But must my sons be slaughter’d in the streets, 
+For valiant doings in their country’s cause? 
+O, if to fight for king and commonweal 
+Were piety in thine, it is in these. 
+Andronicus, stain not thy tomb with blood: 
+Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods? 
+Draw near them then in being merciful: 
+Sweet mercy is nobility’s true badge: 
+
+
+Thrice noble Titus, spare my first-born son. 
+
+
+Tit. Patient yourself, madam, and pardon 
+me. 
+These are their brethren, whom you Goths 
+beheld 
+Alive and dead, and for their brethren slain 
+Religiously they ask a sacrifice:  “ 
+To this your son is mark’d, and die he must, 
+To appease their groaning shadows that are 
+gone. 
+Luc. Away with him! and make a fre 
+straight; 
+And with our swords, upon a pile of wood, 
+Let's hew his limbs till they be clean conv 
+sumed. [Exeunt Lucius, Quintus, Martius, 
+
+
+and Mutius, with Alarbus. 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+iS Aa Beaul 
+
+
+Tam. O cruel, irreligious piety! 
+Chi. Was ever Scythia half, so barbarous ? 
+Dem. Oppose not Scythia to ambitious 
+e. 
+Alarbus goes to rest; and we survive 
+‘o tremble under Titus’ threatening looks. 
+Then, madam, stand resolved, but hope withal 
+The self-same gods that arm’d the Queen of 
+Troy 
+With opportunity of sharp revenge 
+Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent, 
+May favour Tamora, the Queen of Goths— 
+When Goths were Goths and Tamora was 
+queen— 140 
+To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes, 
+
+
+Re-enter Lucius, Quintus, Martius, and 
+Mutivus, with their swords bloody. 
+
+
+Luc. See, lord and father, how we have 
+~ perform'd 
+Our Roman rites: Alarbus’ limbs are lopp’d, 
+And entrails feed the sacrificing fire, 
+Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the 
+
+
+sky. 
+Remaineth nought, but to inter our brethren, 
+And with loud ‘larums welcome them to 
+Rome. se 
+Tit, Let it be so; and let Awdronicus 
+Make this his latest farewell to theie souls. 
+[Trumpets sounded, and the coffin laid in 
+the tomb. 
+In peace and honour rest you here, my sons; 
+Rome's readiest champions, repose you here 
+. in rest, 151 
+Secure from worldly chances and mishaps! 
+Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells, 
+Here grow no damned grudges; here are no 
+storms, } 
+No noise, but silence and eternal sleep: 
+In peace and honour, rest you here, my sons! 
+
+
+Enter Lavinia. 
+
+
+ian In peace and honour live Lord Titus 
+ong; 
+
+My noble lord and father, live in fame! 
+
+Lo, at this tomb my tributary tears ‘ 
+
+I render, for my brethren’s obsequies; 160 
+
+And at thy feet I kneel, with tears of joy, 
+
+Shed on the earth, for thy return to Rome: 
+
+O, bless me here with thy victorious hand, 
+
+Whose fortunes Rome's best citizens applaud! 
+
+Tit. .Kind Rome, that hast thus lovingly 
+
+reserved 
+
+The cordial of mine age to glad my heart! 
+
+Lavinia, live; outlive thy father’s days, 
+
+And fame’s eternal date, for virtue’s praise! 
+
+
+Enter, below, Marcus Anpronicus and Tri- 
+bunes; re-enter SATURNINUS and Bas- 
+SIANUS, allended. 
+
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+853 
+
+
+Mar. Long live Lord Titus, my beloved 
+brother, 
+Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome! 170 
+Tit. Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother 
+Marcus. 
+Marc. And welcome, nephews, from suc- 
+cessful wars, 
+You that survive, and you that sleep in fame! 
+Fair lords, your fortunes are alike in all, 
+
+
+“That in your country’s service drew your 
+
+
+swords: 
+But safer triumph is this funeral pomp, 
+That hath aspired to Solon’s happiness 
+And triumphs over chance in honour’s bed. 
+Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome, 179 
+Whose friend in justice thou hast ever been, 
+Send thee by me, their tribute and their trust, 
+This palliament of white and spotless hue; 
+And name thee in election for the empire, 
+With these our late-deceased emperor's sons: 
+Be candidatus then, and put it on, 
+
+And help to set a head on headless Rome. 
+Tit. A better head her glorious body fits 
+Than this that shakes for age and feebleness: 
+What should I don this robe, and trouble 
+
+you? 
+Be chosen with proclamations to-day, 190 
+To-morrow yield up rule, resign my life, 
+And set abroad new business for you all? 
+Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years, 
+And led my country’s strength successfully, 
+And buried one and twenty valiant sons, 
+Knighted in field, slain manfully in arms, 
+In right and service of their noble country: 
+Give me a staff of honour for mine age, 
+But not a sceptre to control the world: 
+Upright he held it, lords, that held it last. 200 
+Marc. Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the 
+empery. 
+Sat, Proud and ambitious tribune, canst 
+thou tell? 
+Tit. Patience, Prince Saturninus, 
+Sat. Romans, do me right: 
+Patricians, draw your swords, and sheathe 
+them not 
+Till Saturninus be Rome’s emperor. 
+Andronicus, would thou wert shipp’d to hell, 
+Rather than 10b me of the people’s hearts! 
+Luc. Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the 
+
+
+goo 
+That noble-minded Titus means to thee! 
+Tit. Content thee, prince; I will restore 
+
+
+to thee 210 
+The people’s hearts, and wean them from 
+themselves. 
+
+
+Bas. Andronicus, | do not flatter thee, 
+But honour thee, and will do tll I die: 
+My faction if thou strengthen with thy friends, 
+J will most thankful be; and thanks to men 
+
+
+854 
+
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+[Act I, Sc. I 
+
+
+Of noble minds is honourable meed. 
+Tit. People of Rome, and people's tri- 
+bunes here, 
+I ask your voices and your suffrages: 
+Will you bestow them friendly on Androni- 
+cus > 
+Tribunes. To gratify the good Androni- 
+cus, 
+And gratulate his safe return to Rome, 221 
+The people will accept whom he admits. 
+Tit. Tribunes, I thank you: and this suit 
+I make, 
+That you create your emperor’s eldest son, 
+Lord: Saturnine; whose virtues will, I hope, 
+Reflect on Rome as Titan's rays on earth, 
+And ripen justice in this commonweal: 
+Then, if you will elect by my advice, 
+Crown him, and say ‘Long live our emperor!’ 
+Marc. With voices and applause of every 
+sort, 230 
+Patricians and plebeians, we create 
+Lord Saturninus Rome's great emperor, 
+And say ‘Long live our Emperor, Saturine!" 
+[A long flourish till they come down. 
+Sat. Titus Andronicus, for thy favours 
+done 
+To us in our election this day, 
+I give thee thanks in part of thy deserts, 
+And will with deeds requite thy gentleness: 
+And, for an onset, Titus, to advance 
+Thy name and honourable family, 
+Lavinia will I make my empress, 240 
+Rome’s royal mistress, mistress of my heart, 
+And in the sacred Pantheon her espouse: 
+Tell me, Andronicus, doth this motion please 
+thee? 
+Tit. It doth, my worthy lord; and in this 
+match 
+I hold me highly honour’d of your grace: 
+And here in sight of Rome to Saturnine, 
+King and commander of our commonweal, 
+The wide world’s emperor, do I consecrate 
+My sword, my chariot and my prisoners; 
+Presents ‘well worthy Rome’s imperial lord: 
+Receive them then, the tribute that I owe, 
+Mine honour’s ensigns humbled at thy feet. 
+ae Thanks, noble Titus, father of my 
+ife! 
+How proud I am of thee and of thy gifts 
+Rome shall record, and when I do forget 
+The least of these unspeakable deserts, 
+Romans, forget your fealty to me. 
+Tit. [To Tamora] Now, madam, are you 
+prisoner to an emperor; 
+
+To him that, for your honour and your state, 
+Will use you nobly and your followers. 260 
+Sat. A goodly lady, trust me; of the hue 
+That I would choose, were I to choose anew. 
+
+
+Though chance of war hath wrought this 
+change of cheer, 
+
+Thou comest not to be made a scorn in Rome: 
+
+Princely shall be thy usage every way. 
+
+Rest on my word, and let not discontent 
+
+Daunt all your hopes: madam, he comforts 
+you 
+
+Can make you greater than the Queen of 
+Goths. 
+
+Lavinia, you are not displeased with this? 270 
+
+Lav. Not I, my lord; sith true nobility 
+Warrants these words in princely courtesy. 
+
+Sat. Thanks, sweet Lavinia. Romans, let 
+
+us go: 
+Ransomless here we set our prisoners free: 
+Proclaim our honours, lords, with trump and — 
+drum. 
+[Flourish. Saturninus courts Tamora 
+in dumb show. 
+
+Bas. Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid 
+
+is mine. [Seizing Lavinia, 
+
+Tit. How, sir! are you in earnest then, 
+
+my lord? 
+
+Bas. Ay, noble Titus; and resolved withal 
+To do myself this reason and this right. 
+
+Marc. *“Suum cuique’ is our Roman jus- 
+
+tice: 
+This prince in justice seizeth but his own. 281 
+
+Luc. And that he will, and shall, if Lu- 
+
+cius live, 
+
+Tit. Traitors, avaunt! Where is the em- 
+
+peror’s guard > 
+Treason, my ford! Lavinia is surprised! 
+
+Sat. Surprised! by whom? 
+
+Bas. By him that justly may 
+Bear his betroth’d from all the world away. 
+[Exeunt Bassianus and Marcus with Lavinia. 
+
+Mut. Brothers, help to convey her hence 
+
+away, 
+And with my sword I'll keep this door safe. 
+{Exeunt Lucius, Quintus, and Martius. 
+
+Tit. Follow, my lord, and I'll soon bring 
+
+her back. 
+
+Mut. My lord, you pass not here. 
+
+Tit. What, villain boy! 290 
+Barr'’st me my way in Rome? 
+
+[Stabbing Mutius. 
+
+Mut. Help, Lucius, help! [Dies. 
+[During the fray, Saturninus, Tamora, 
+
+Demetrius, Chiron and Aaron go oui 
+
+and re-enter, above, 
+
+
+Re-enter Lucius. 
+
+
+Luc. My lord, you are unjust, and, more 
+than so, 
+In wrongful quarrel you have slain your son. 
+Tit. Nor thou, nor he, are any sons of 
+mine; 
+
+
+Clear up. fair queen, that cloudy countenance: My sons would never so dishonour me: 
+
+
+| 
+| 
+: 
+| 
+
+
+Act 1, Sc. 14 
+
+
+Traitor, restore Lavinia to the emperor. 
+Luc. Dead, if you will; but not to be 
+his wife, 
+_ That is another’s lawful promised love. [Exit. 
+Sat. No, Titus, no; the emperor needs 
+her not, 
+Nor her, nor thee, nor any of thy stock: 300 
+I'll trust, by leisure, him that mocks me once; 
+Thee never, nor thy traitorous haughty sons, 
+Confederates all thus to dishonour me. 
+Was there none else in Rome to make a stale, 
+But Saturnine? Full well, Andronicus, 
+Agree these deeds with that proud brag of 
+thine, 
+That said’st I begg’d the empire at thy hands. 
+Tit. O monstrous! what reproachful words 
+are these? 
+Sat. But go thy ways; go, give that chang- 
+_ ing piece 
+To him that flourish'd for her with his sword: 
+A valiant son-in-law thou shalt enjoy; 311 
+One fit to bandy with thy lawless sons, 
+To ruffle in the commonwealth of Rome. 
+Tit. These words are razors to my 
+wounded heart. 
+Sat. And therefore, lovely Tamora, queen 
+of Goths, 
+That like the stately Phoebe ‘mongst her 
+nymphs | 
+Dost overshine the gallant’st dames of Rome, 
+If thou be pleased with this my sudden choice, 
+Behold, I choose thee, Tamora, for my bride, 
+And will create thee empress of Rome. 320 
+Speak, Queen of Goths, dost thou applaud 
+my choice? 
+And here I swear by all the Roman gods, 
+Sith priest and holy water are so near 
+And tapers burn so bright and every thing 
+In readiness for Hymeneus stand, 
+I will not re-salute the streets of Rome, 
+Or climb my palace, till from forth this place 
+I lead espoused my bride along with me. 
+Tam. And here, in sight of heaven, to 
+Rome I swear, 
+If Saturine advance the Queen of Goths, 330 
+She will a handmaid be to his desires, 
+A loving nurse, a mother to his youth. 
+Sat. Ascend, fair queen, Pantheon. Lords, 
+accompany 
+Your noble emperor and his lovely bride, 
+Sent by, the heavens for Prince Saturnine, 
+Whose wisdom hath her fortune conquered: 
+There shall we consummate our spousal rites. 
+{Exeunt all but Titus. 
+Tit. 1 am not bid to wait upon this bride. 
+Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone, 
+Dishonour'd thus, and challenged of wrongs? 
+Re-enter Marcus, Lucius, Quintus, and 
+Martius. 
+
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+855 
+
+
+Marc. O Titus, see, O, see what thou hast 
+done! 341 
+In a bad quarrel slain a virtuous son. 
+Tit. No, foolish tribune, no; no son of 
+mine, 
+Nor thou, nor these, confederates in the deed 
+That hath dishonour’d all our family; 
+Unworthy brother, and unworthy sons! 
+Luc. But let us give him burial, as be- 
+comes; 
+Give Mutius burial with our brethren. 
+‘Tit. Traitors, away! he rests not in this 
+tomb: 
+This monument five hundred years hath stood, 
+Which I have sumptuously re-edified: 351 
+Here none but soldiers and Rome’s servitors 
+Repose in fame; none basely slain in brawls: 
+Bury him where you can; he comes not here. 
+Marc. My lord, this is impiety in you: 
+My nephew Mutius’ deeds do plead for him; 
+He must be buried with his brethren, 
+Quin, ie shall, or him we will accom- 
+Mart. pany. 
+Tit. ‘And shall!’ what villain was it spake 
+that word? 
+Quin. He that would vouch it in any place 
+but here. 360 
+Tit. What, would you bury him in my 
+despite ? 
+Marc. No, noble Titus, but entreat of thee 
+To pardon Mutius and to bury him, 
+Tit. Marcus, even thou hast struck upon 
+my crest, 
+And, with these boys, mine honour thou hast 
+wounded: 
+My foes I do repute you every one; 
+So, trouble me no more, but get you gone. 
+Mart. He is not with himself; let us with- 
+
+
+draw. 
+Quin. Not I, till Mutius’ bones be buried. 
+[Marcus and the Sons of Titus kneel. 
+Marc. Brother, for in that name doth na- 
+
+
+ture plead,— 370 
+
+Quin. Father, and in that name doth na- 
+ture speak,— 
+
+Tit. Speak thou no more, if all the rest 
+will speed. 
+
+Marc. Renowned Titus, more than half 
+my soul,— 
+
+Luc. Dear father, soul and substance of 
+
+
+us all,— 
+Marc. Suffer thy brother Marcus to inter 
+His noble nephew here in virtue’s nest, 
+That died in honour and Lavinia’s cause. 
+Thou art a Roman; be not barbarous: 
+
+
+The Greeks upon advice did bury Ajax 
+
+
+That slew himself; and wise Laertes’ son 380 
+Did graciously plead for his funerals: 
+
+
+Let not young Mutius, then, that was thy joy, 
+
+
+036 : 
+
+
+YITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+Be barr’d his entrance here. 
+il. Rise, Marcus, rise. 
+The dismall’st day is this that e’er I saw, 
+To be dishonour'd by my sons in Rome! 
+Well, bury him, and bury me the next. 
+[Mutius is put into the tomb. 
+Luc. There lie thy bones, sweet Mutius, 
+with thy friends, 
+Till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb. 
+All. [Kneeling] No man shed tears for 
+noble Mutius; ; 
+He lives in fame that died in virtue’s cause. 
+Marc. My lord, to step out of these dreary 
+dumps, 
+How comes it that the subtle Queen of Goths 
+Is of a sudden thus advanced in Rome? 
+Tit. 1 know not, Marcus; but I know it 
+
+
+ist 
+
+Whether by device or no, the heavens can 
+tell: 
+
+Is she not then beholding to the man 
+
+That brought her for this high good turn so 
+far? 
+
+Yes, and will nobly him remunerate. 
+
+
+Flourish. Re-enter, from one side, SATURNI- 
+Nus attended, Tamora, DemeTRIUS, CHI- 
+RON, and Aaron; from the other, Bas- 
+sIANus, Lavinia, and others. 
+
+
+Sai. So, Bassianus, you have play’d your 
+prize: 
+God give you joy, sir, of your gallant bride! 
+Bas. And you of yours, my lord! I say no 
+more, 
+Nor wish no less; and so, I take my leave. 
+Sai. Traitor, if Rome have law or we have 
+power, 
+Thou and thy faction shall repent this rape. 
+Bas. Rape, call you it, my lord, to seize 
+my own, 
+My true-betrothed love and now my wife? 
+But let the laws of Rome determine all; 
+Meanwhile I am possess’d of that is mine. 
+Sat. "Tis good, sir: you are very short 
+with us; 
+But, if we live we ‘Il be as short with you. 410 
+Bas. My lord, what I have done, as best 
+I may, 
+Answer I must and shall do with my life. 
+Only this much I give your grace to know: 
+By all the duties that I owe to Rome, 
+This noble gentleman, Lord Titus here, 
+Is in opinion and in honour wrong'd; 
+That in the rescue of Lavinia 
+With his own hand did slay his youngest son, 
+In zeal to you, and highly moved to wrath 
+To be controll’d in that he frankly gave: 420 
+Receive him. then. to favour, Saturnine, 
+
+
+That hath express’d himself in all his deeds 
+
+
+A father and a friend to thee and Rome. 
+Tit. Prince Bassianus, leave to plead my 
+deeds: 
+‘Tis thou and those that have dishonour’d me. 
+Rome and the righteous heavens be my judge, 
+How I have loved and honour’d Saturnine! 
+Tam. My worthy lord, if ever Tamora 
+Were gracious in those princely eyes of thine, 
+Then hear me speak indifferently for all; 430 
+And at my suit, sweet, pardon what is past. 
+Sat. What, madam, be dishonour’d openly, 
+And basely put it up without revenge? 
+Tam. Not so, my lord; the gods of Rome 
+forfend 
+I should be author to dishonour you! 
+But on mine honour dare I undertake 
+For good Lord Titus’ innocence in all; 
+Whose fury not dissembled speaks his griefs: 
+Then, at my suit, look graciously on him; 
+Lose not so noble a friend on vain suppose, 
+Nor with sour looks afflict his gentle heart. 
+[Aside to Sat.] My lord, be ruled by me, be 
+won at last; 
+Dissemble all your griefs and discontents: 
+You are but newly planted in your throne; 
+Lest, then, the people, and patricians too, 
+Upon a just survey, take Titus’ part, 
+And so supplant you for ingratitude, 
+Which Rome reputes to be a heinous sin, 
+Yield at entreats; and then let me alone: 
+I'll find a day to massacre them all 
+And raze their faction and their family. 
+The cruel father and his traitorous sons, 
+To whom I sued for my dear son's life, 
+And make them know what 'tis to let a queen 
+Kneel in the streets and beg for grace in vain. 
+Come, come, sweet emperor; come, Androni- 
+cus; 
+Take up this good old man, and cheer the 
+heart 
+That dies in tempest of thy angry frown. 
+Sat. Rise, Titus, rise; my empress hath 
+prevail'd. 
+Tit. I thank your majesty, and her, my 
+lord: 460 
+These words, these looks, infuse new life in 
+me. 
+Tam. Titus, I am incorporate in Rome, 
+A Roman now adopted happily, 
+And must advise the emperor for his good, 
+This day all quarrels die, Andronicus; 
+And let it be mine honour, good my lord, 
+That I have reconciled your friends and you. 
+For you, Prince Bassianus, I have pass’d 
+My word and promise to the emperor, 
+That you will be more mild and tractable. 470 
+And fear not, lords, and you, Lavinia; 
+By my advice, all humbled on your knees, 
+You shall ask pardon of his majesty. 
+
+
+450 
+
+
+\ [Acer I,’Sal 9 
+
+
+SOE iy bla, CA ii Ua Skee 
+
+
+Act Ii, Se. I] 
+
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+857 
+
+
+To 
+
+
+Luc. We do, and vow to heaven and to | This siren, that will charm Rome’s Saturnine, 
+
+
+his highness, 
+That what we did was mildly as we might, 
+Tendering our sister's honour and our own. 
+Marc. That, on mine honour, here I do 
+protest. 
+Sat. Away, and talk not; trouble us no 
+more. 
+Tam. Nay, nay, sweet emperor, we must 
+all be friends: 
+The tribune and his nephews kneel for grace; 
+I will not be denied: sweet heart, look back. 
+Sat. Marcus, for thy sake and thy brother's 
+here, 
+And at my lovely Tamora’s entreats, 
+
+
+I do remit these young men’s heinous faults: 
+
+
+Stand up. 
+Lavinia, though you left me like a churl, 
+I found a friend, and sure as death I swore 
+I would not part a bachelor from the priest. 
+Come, if the emperor's court can feast two 
+brides, 
+You are my guest, Lavinia, and your friends. 
+This day shall be a love-day, Tamora. 491 
+Tit. To-morrow, an it please your majesty 
+To hunt the panther and the hart with me, 
+With horn and hound we'll give your grace 
+bonjour. 
+Sat. Be it so, Titus, and gramercy too. 
+
+
+[Flourish. Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+
+
+SCENE I. Rome. Before the palace. 
+Enter Aaron. 
+
+
+Aar. Now climbeth Tamora Olympus’ top, 
+Safe out of fortune’s shot; and sits aloft, 
+Secure of thunder’s crack or lightning flash; 
+Advanced above pale envy’s threatening reach. 
+As when the golden sun salutes the morn, 
+And, having gilt the ocean with his beams, 
+Gallops the zodiac in his glistering coach, 
+And overlooks the highest-peering hills; 
+
+So Tamora: 
+Upon her wit doth earthly honour wait, 10 
+And virtue stoops and trembles at her frown. 
+Then, Aaron, arm thy heart, and fit thy 
+thoughts, 
+To mount aloft with thy imperial mistress, 
+pips oun her pitch, whom thou in triumph 
+ong 
+Hast prisoner held, fetter’d in amorous chains 
+And faster bound to Aaron’s charming eyes 
+Than is Prometheus tied to Caucasus. 
+Away with slavish weeds and servile thoughts! 
+I will be bright, and shine in pearl and gold 
+To wait upon this new-made empress. 
+To wait, said 1? to wanton with this queen, 
+This goddess, this Semiramis, this nymph, 
+
+
+479 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+And see his shipwreck and his commonweal'’s. 
+Holloa! what storm is this? 
+
+
+Enter DEMETRIUS and CuiRON, braving. 
+
+
+Dem. Chiron, thy years want wit, thy wit 
+wants edge, 
+And manners, to intrude where I am graced; 
+And may, for aught thou know’st, affected be. 
+Oe Demetrius, thou dost over-ween in 
+all; 
+And so in this, to bear me down with braves, 
+Tis not the difference of a year or two 
+Makes me less gracious or thee more for- 
+tunate: 
+I am as able and as fit as thou 
+To serve, and to deserve my mistress’ grace; 
+And that my sword upon thee shall approve, 
+And plead my passion for Lavinia’s love. 
+Aar. [Aside] Clubs, clubs! these lovers 
+will not keep the peace. 
+Dem. Why, boy, although our mother, un- 
+advised, 
+Gave you a dancing rapier by your side, 
+Are you so desperate grown, to threat your 
+friends ? 
+Go to; have your lath glued within your 
+sheath 
+Till you know better how to handle it. 
+Chi. Meanwhile, sir, with the little skill 
+I have, 
+Full well shalt thou perceive how much I dare. 
+Dem. Ay, boy, grow ye so brave? 
+[They draw. 
+Aar. [Coming forward] Why, how now, 
+lords! 
+So near the emperor’s palace dare you draw, 
+And maintain such a quarrel openly? 
+Full well I wot the ground of all this grudge: 
+I would not for a million of gold 
+The cause were known to them it most con- 
+cerns; 50 
+Nor would your noble mother for much more 
+Be so dishonour’d in the court of Rome. 
+For shame, put up. 
+Dem, Not I, till I have sheathed 
+My rapier in his bosom and withal 
+Thrust these reproachful speeches down his 
+throat 
+That he hath breathed in my dishonour here. 
+Chi. For that 1 am prepared and full re- 
+solved, 
+Foul-spoken coward, that thunder’st with thy 
+tongue, 
+And with thy weapon nothing darest perform! 
+Aar. Away, I say! 60 
+Now, by the gods that warlike Goths adore, 
+This petty brabble will undo us all. 
+Why, lords, and think you not how dangerouc 
+
+
+858 
+
+
+It is to jet upon a prince's right? 
+
+What, is Lavinia then become so loose, 
+
+Or Bassianus so degenerate, 
+
+That for her love such quarrels may be 
+broach’d 
+
+Without controlment, justice, or revenge? 
+
+Young lords, beware! and should the empress 
+
+
+know 
+This discord’s ground, the music would not 
+please. 70 
+Chi. I care not, I, knew she and all the 
+
+world: 
+
+
+I love Lavinia more than all the world. 
+
+Dem. Youngling, learn thou to make some 
+
+meaner choice: 
+Lavinia is thine elder brother's hope. 
+
+Aar. Why, are ye mad? or know ye not, 
+
+in Rome 
+How furious and impatient they be, 
+And cannot brook competitors in love? 
+I tell you, lords, you do but plot your deaths 
+By this device. 
+
+Chi. Aaron, a thousand deaths 
+Would I propose to achieve her whom I love. 
+
+Aar. To achieve her! how? 
+
+Dem. Why makest thou it so strange? 
+She is a woman, therefore may be woo'd; 
+She is a woman, therefore may be won; 
+She is Lavinia, therefore must be loved. 
+What, man! more water glideth by the mill 
+Than wots the miller of; and easy it is 
+Of a cut loaf to steal a shive, we know: 
+Though Bassianus be the emperor's brother, 
+Better than he have worn Vulcan's badge. 
+
+Aar. [Aside] Ay, and as good as Satur- 
+
+ninus may. 90 
+Dem. Then why should he despair that 
+knows to court it 
+With words, fair looks and liberality > 
+What, hast not thou full often struck a doe, 
+And borne her cleanly by the keeper’s nose ? 
+Aar. Why, then, it seems, some certain 
+snatch or so 
+Would serve your turns. 
+
+Chi. Ay, so the turn were served, 
+
+Dem. Aaron, thou hast hit it. 
+
+Aar, Would you had hit it too! 
+Then should not we be tired with this ado. 
+Why, hark ye, hark ye! and are you such 
+
+fools 
+To square for this? would it offend you, then, 
+That both should speed? 101 
+
+Chi. Faith, not me. 
+
+Dem. Nor me, so I were one. 
+
+Aar. For shame, be friends, and join for 
+
+that you jar: 
+‘Tis policy and stratagem must do 
+That you affect; and so you must resolve, 
+That what you cannot as you would achieve, 
+
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+You must perforce accomplish as you may. 
+Take this of me: Lucrece was not more chaste 
+Than this Lavinia, Bassianus’ love. 109 
+A speedier course than lingering languishment 
+Must we pursue, and I have found the path. 
+My lords, a solemn hunting is in hand; 
+There will the lovely Roman ladies troop: 
+The forest walks are wide and spacious; 
+And many unfrequented plots there are 
+Fitted by kind for rape and villany: 
+Single you thither then this dainty doe, 
+And strike her home by force, if not by 
+words: 
+This way, or not at all, stand you in hope. 
+Come, come, our empress, with her sacred wit 
+To villany and vengeance consecrate, 
+Will we acquaint with all that we intend; 
+And he shall file our engines with advice, 
+That will not suffer you to square yourselves, 
+But to your wishes’ height advance you both. 
+The emperor's court is like the house of Fame, 
+The palace full of tongues, of eyes, of ears: 
+The ene are ruthless, dreadful, deaf, and 
+ull; 
+
+
+There speak, and strike, brave boys, and take 
+
+
+your turns; 
+There serve your lusts, shadow'd from hea- 
+ven's eye, 130 
+
+
+And revel in Lavinia’s treasury. 
+Chi. Thy counsel, lad, smells of no cow- 
+ardice, 
+
+
+Dem. Sit fas aut nefas, till I find the - 
+
+
+stream «4 
+To coo! this heat, a charm to calm these fits, 
+Per Styga, per manes vehor. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+Horns and 
+
+
+A forest near Rome. 
+
+cry of hounds heard. 
+Enter Trrus Anpronicus, with Hunters, &c., 
+Marcus, Lucius, Quintus, and Martius. 
+
+
+Tit. The hunt is up, the morn is bright 
+and grey, 
+
+
+Scene II. 
+
+
+The fields are fragrant and the woods are 
+
+
+green: 
+Uncouple here and let us make a bay 
+
+And wake the emperor and his lovely bride 
+And rouse the prince and ring a hunter’s peal, 
+That all the court may echo with the noise. 
+Sons, let it be your charge, as it is ours, 
+
+To attend the emperor's person carefully: 
+
+I have been troubled in my sleep this night, 
+But dawning day new comfort hath inspired, 
+
+
+A cry of hounds, and horns winded in a peal. 
+Enter SATURNINUS, TAMORA, BassIANUS, 
+Lavinia, Demetrius, CHIRON, and At- 
+tendants. 
+
+
+Many good morrows to your majesty; 
+Madam, to you as many and as good: 
+
+
+[Act II, Sc. Il 
+
+
+121° 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+Act Il, Sc. HI] 
+
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+859 
+
+
+I promised your grace a hunter's peal. 
+
+Sat. And you have rung it lustily, my lord; 
+Somewhat too early for new-married ladies. 
+
+Bas. Lavinia, how say you? 
+
+Lav. I say, no; 
+
+I have been broad awake two hours and more. 
+
+Sat. Come on, then; horse and chariots let 
+
+us have, 
+
+And to our sport. [To Tamora] Madam, 
+now shall ye see 
+
+Our Roman hunting. 
+
+Marc. I have dogs, my lord, 20 
+Will rouse the proudest panther in the chase, 
+And climb the highest promontory top. 
+
+Tit. And I have horse will follow where 
+
+
+the game 
+Makes way, and run like swallows o’er the 
+plain. 
+_ Dem. Chiron, we hunt not, we, with horse 
+nor hound, 
+But hope to pluck a dainty doe to ground. 
+[Exeunt. 
+Scene III. A lonely part of the forest. 
+
+
+Enter Aaron, with a bag of gold. 
+Aar. He that had wit would think that I 
+
+
+had none, 
+To bury so much gold under a tree, 
+And never after to inherit it. 
+Let him that thinks of me so abjectly 
+Know that this gold must coin a stratagem, 
+Which, cunningly effected, will beget 
+‘A very excellent piece of villany: 
+And so repose, sweet gold, for their unrest 
+[Hides the gold. 
+
+
+That have their alms out of the empress’ chest. 
+Enter Tamora. 
+
+
+Tam. My lovely Aaron, wherefore look’st 
+thou sad, 10 
+When every thing doth make a gleeful boast? 
+The birds chant melody on every bush, 
+The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun, 
+The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind 
+And make a chequer’d shadow on the ground: 
+Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit, 
+And, whilst the babbling echo mocks the 
+hounds, 
+
+Replying shrilly to the well-tuned horns, 
+As if a double hunt were heard at once, 
+Let us sit down and mark their yelping noise; 
+And, after conflict such as was supposed 2] 
+The wandering prince and Dido once enjoy'd, 
+When with a happy storm they were surprised 
+And curtain’d with a counsel-keeping cave, 
+We may, each wreathed in the other’s arms, 
+Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber; 
+Whiles hounds and horns and sweet melo- 
+
+
+dious birds 
+
+
+Be unto us as is a nurse’s song 
+Of lullaby to bring her babe asleep. 
+Aar. ‘Madam, though Venus govern your 
+desires, 30 
+Saturn is dominator over mine: 
+What signifies my deadly-standing eye, 
+My silence and my cloudy melancholy, 
+My fleece of woolly hair that now uncurls 
+Even as an adder when she doth unroll 
+To do some fatal execution? 
+No, madam, these are no venereal signs: 
+Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, 
+Blood and revenge are hammering in my head, 
+Hark, Tamora, the empress of my soul, 
+Which never hopes more heaven than rests in 
+thee, 
+This is the day of doom for Bassianus: 
+His Philomel must lose her tongue to-day, 
+Thy sons make pillage of her chastity 
+And wash their hands in Bassianus’ blood. 
+Seest thou this letter? take it up, I pray thee, 
+And give the king this fatal-plotted scroll. 
+Now question me no more; we are espied; 
+Here comes a parcel of our hopful booty, 
+Which dreads not yet their lives’ destruction. 
+Tam. Ah, my sweet Moor, sweeter to me 
+than life) 
+Aar. No inore, great empress; Bassianus 
+comes: 
+Be cross with him: and I'll go fetch thy sons 
+To back thy quarrels, whatso’er they be. 
+[Exit. 
+
+
+Enter BassiaNus and Lavinia. 
+Bas. Who have we here? 
+
+
+empress, 
+Unfurnish’d of her well-beseeming troop? 
+Or is it Dian, habited like her, 
+Who hath abandoned her holy groves 
+To see the general hunting in this forest? 
+Tam. Saucy controller of our private steps! 
+Had I the power that some say Dian had, 61 
+Thy temples should be planted presently 
+With horns, as was Acteon’s; and the hounds 
+Should drive upon thy new-transformed limbs, 
+Unmannerly intruder as thou art! 
+Lav. Under your patience, gentle empress, 
+*Tis thought you have a goodly gift in horn- 
+
+
+Rome’s royal 
+
+
+ing; 
+
+And to be doubted that your Moor and you 
+
+Are singled forth to try experiments: 
+
+Jove shield your husband from his hounds 
+to-day! 70 
+
+"Tis pity they should take him for a stag. 
+
+Bas. Believe me, queen, your swarth Cim- 
+
+merian 
+
+Doth make your honour of his body's hue, 
+
+Spotted, detested, and abominable. 
+
+Why are you seauester’d from all your train, 
+
+
+860 
+
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+[Act Il, Sc. II 
+
+
+Dismounted from your snow-white goodly For no name fits thy nature but thy own! 
+
+
+steed, 
+And wander'd hither to an’ obscure plot, 
+Accompanied but with a barbarous Moor, 
+If foul desire had not conducted you? 
+
+Lav. And, being intercepted in your sport, 
+Great reason that my noble lord be rated 81] 
+For sauciness. I pray you, let us hence, 
+And let her joy her raven-colour'd love; 
+This valley fits the purpose passing well. 
+
+Bas. The king my brother shall have note 
+
+of this. 
+
+Lav. Ay, for these slips have made him 
+
+noted long: 
+Good king, to be so mightily abused! 
+
+Tam. Why have I patience to endure all 
+
+this? 
+
+
+Enter DEMETRIUS and CHIRON. 
+
+
+Dem. How now, dear sovereign, and our 
+gracious mother! 
+Why doth your highness look so pale and 
+wan? 
+Tam. Have I not reason, think you, to 
+look pale? 
+These two have ‘ticed me hither to this place: 
+A barren detested vale, you see it is; 
+The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and 
+lean, 
+O’ercome with moss and baleful mistletoe: 
+Here never shines the sun; here nothing 
+breeds, 
+Unless the nightly owl or fatal raven: 
+And when they show'd me this abhorred pit, 
+They told me, here, at dead time of the night, 
+A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes, 
+Ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins, 
+Would make such fearful and confused cries 
+As any mortal body hearing it 
+Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly. 
+No sooner had they told this hellish tale, 
+But straight they told me they would bind me 
+here 
+Unto the body of a dismal yew, 
+And leave me to this miserable death: 
+And then they call’d me foul adulteress, 
+Lascivious Goth, and all the bitterest terms 110 
+That ever ear did hear to such effect: 
+And, had you not by wondrous fortune come, 
+This vengeance on me had they executed. 
+Revenge it, as you love your mother’s life, 
+Or be ye not henceforth call’d my children. 
+Dem. This is a witness that I am thy son. 
+[Stabs Bassianus. 
+Chi. And this for me, struck home to show 
+my strength, 
+[Also stabs Bassianus, who dies. 
+Lav. Ay, come, Semiramis, nay, barbarous 
+Tamora, 
+
+
+Tam. Give me thy poniard; you shall 
+
+know, my boys, 120 
+
+Your mother’s hand shall right your mother’s 
+wrong. 
+
+
+Dem. Stay, madam; here is more belongs 
+to her; 
+
+First thrash the corn, then after burn the 
+straw: 
+
+
+This minion stood upon her chastity, 
+Upon her nuptial vow, her loyalty, 
+tAnd with that painted hope braves your 
+mightiness : 
+And shall she carry this unto her grave? 
+Chi. An if she do, 1 would I were an 
+eunuch. 
+Drag hence her husband to some secret hole, 
+coh make his dead trunk pillow to our 
+ust. 
+Tam. But when ye have the honey ye de: 
+sire, 
+Le? not the wasp outlive, us both to sting. 
+Chi. I warrant you, madam, we will make 
+that sure, 
+Come, mistress, now perforce we will enjoy 
+That nice-preserved honesty of yours. 
+Lav. O Tamora! thou bear’st a woman's 
+face,— 
+Tam. | will not hear her speak; away 
+with her! 
+Lav. Sweet lords, entreat her hear me but 
+a word, ‘ 
+Dem. listen, fair madam: let it be your 
+glory 
+To see her tears; but be your heart to them’ 
+As unrelenting flint to drops of rain. 
+Lav. When did the tiger’s young ones 
+teach the dam? 
+O, do not learn her wrath; she taught it thee; 
+The milk thou suck’dst from her did turn to 
+marble; 
+Even at thy teat thou hadst thy tyranny. 
+Yet every mother breeds not sons alike: 
+[To Chiron] Do thou entreat her show a wo- 
+man pity. 
+Chi. What, wouldst thou have me prove 
+myself a bastard? 
+mn oie true; the raven doth not hatch a 
+ark: 
+Yet have I heard,—O, could I find it now!— 
+The lion moved with pity did endure 
+To have his princely paws pared all away: 
+Some say that ravens foster forlorn children, 
+The whilst their own birds famish in their 
+nests: 
+O, be to me, though thy hard heart say no, 
+Nothing so kind, but something pitiful! 
+Tam. 1 know not what it means; away 
+with her4 
+
+
+os 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+: 
+
+
+OX > OO AeA Ay oo ew 
+EF: FX Were Av 7 2 
+if d d 
+
+
+~ Act Il, Sc. 11] 
+
+
+Lav. O, let me teach thee! for my father’s 
+sake, 
+That gave thee life, when well he might have 
+slain thee, 
+Be not obdurate, open thy deaf ears. 160 
+Tam. Hadst thou in person ne’er offended 
+me, 
+Even for his sake am I pitiless. 
+
+
+To save your brother from the sacrifice; 
+But fierce Andronicus would not relent: 
+Therefore, away with her, and use her as you 
+| will, 
+The worse to her, the better loved of me. 
+Lav, O Tamora, be call’d a gentle queen, 
+And with thine own hands kill me in this 
+| place! 
+\ For’tis not life that I have begg’d so long; 170 
+Poor I was slain when Bassianus died. 
+\ Tam. What begg’st thou, then? fond wo- 
+| man, let me go. 
+Lav. ’Tis present death I beg; and one 
+i thing more 
+That womanhood denies my tongue to tell: 
+O, keep me from their worse than killing lust, 
+And tumble me into some loathsome pit, 
+Where never man’s eye may behold my body: 
+| Do this, and be a charitable murderer. 
+Tam. So should I rob my sweet sons of 
+iad their fee: 
+No, let them satisfy their lust on thee. 180 
+Dem. Away! for thou hast stay’d us here 
+too long. 
+Lav. No grace? no womanhood? Ah, 
+‘> beastly creature! 
+_ The blot and enemy to our general name! 
+Confusion fall— 
+Chi. Nay, then I'll stop your mouth. 
+Bring thou her husband: 
+This is the hole where Aaron bid us hide him. 
+[Demetrius throws the body of Bassianus 
+into the pit; then exeunt Demetrius 
+and Chiron, dragging off Lavinia. 
+Tam. Farewell, my sons: see that you 
+make her sure. : 
+Ne’er let my heart know merry cheer indeed, 
+Till all the Andronici be made away. 
+Now will I hence to seek my lovely Moor,190 
+And let my spleenful sons this trull deflour. 
+[ Exit. 
+
+
+te le 
+- Re-enter Aaron, with Quintus and Mar- 
+TIUS. 
+
+
+Aar. Come on, my lords, the better foot 
+before: 
+Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit 
+Where I espied the panther fast asleep. 
+Quin. My sight is very dull, whate’er it 
+bodes. : 
+
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+Ripe ee ee eee 
+
+
+Remember, boys, I pour’d forth tears in vain,. 
+
+
+86t 
+
+
+Mart. And mine, I promise you; were't 
+not for shame, 
+Well could J leave our sport to sleep awhile. 
+[Falls into the pit. 
+Quin. What, art thou fall'n? What 
+subtle hole is this, 
+Whose mouth is cover'd with rude-growing 
+briers, 199 
+Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed 
+blood 
+As fresh as morning dew distill’d on flowers? 
+A very fatal place it seems to me. 
+opra peers hast thou hurt thee with the 
+all? 
+Mart. O, brother, with the dismall’st ob- 
+ject hurt 
+That ever eye with sight made heart lament! 
+Aar. [Aside] Now will | fetch the king to 
+find them here, 
+That he thereby may give a likely guess 
+How these were they that made away his 
+
+
+brother. [Exit. 
+Mart. Why dost not comfort me, and help 
+me out 209 
+
+
+From this unhallowed and blood-stained hole? 
+
+Quin. I am surprised with an uncouth 
+
+fear: 
+
+A chilling sweat o’er-runs my trembling 
+joints: 
+
+My heart suspects more than mine eye can see. 
+
+Mart. To prove thou hast a true-divining 
+
+heart, 
+Aaron and thou look down into this den, 
+And see a fearful sight of blood and death. 
+Quin. Aaron is gone, and my compassion- 
+ate heart 
+Will not permit mine eyes once to behold 
+The thing whereat it trembles by surmise: 
+O, tell me how it is; for ne'er till now 220 
+Was I a child te fear I know not what. 
+
+Mart. Lord Bassianus lies embrewed here, 
+All on a heap, like to a slaughter’d lamb, 
+
+In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit. : 
+
+Quin. If it be dark, how dost thou know 
+
+tis he? 
+
+Mart. Upon his bloody finger he doth wear 
+A precious ring, that lightens all the hole, 
+Which, like a taper in some monument, 
+Doth shine upon the dead man’s earthy cheeks, 
+And shows the ragged entrails of the pit: 230 
+
+
+| So pale did shine the moon on Pyramus 
+
+
+When he by night lay bathed in maiden blood. 
+O brother, help me with thy fainting hand— 
+If fear hath made thee faint, as me it hath— 
+Out of this fell devouring receptacle, 
+As hateful as Cocytus’ misty mouth, 
+
+Quin. Reach me thy hand, that I may help 
+
+chee out; 
+
+Or, wanting strength to do thee so much good, 
+
+
+862 
+
+
+I may be pluck’d into the swallowing womb 
+Of this deep pit, poor Bassianus’ grave. 240 
+I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink. 
+Mart. Nor I no strength to climb without 
+thy help. 
+Quin. Thy hand once more; I will not 
+loose again, 
+Till thou art here aloft, or I below: 
+Thou canst not come to me: I come to thee, 
+
+
+[Falls in. 
+Enter SATURNINUS with AarRON, 
+
+
+Sat. Along with me: I'll see what hole is 
+here, 
+And what he is that now is leap'd into it. 
+Say, who art thou that lately didst descend 
+Into this gaping hollow of the earth? 
+Mart. The unhappy son of old Andron- 
+icus; 
+Brought hither in a most unlucky hour, 251 
+To find thy brother Bassianus dead. 
+Sat. My brother dead! I know thou dost 
+but jest: 
+He and his lady both are at the lodge 
+Upon the north side of this pleasant chase; 
+"Tis not an hour since I left him there. 
+Mart. We know not where you left him 
+all alive; 
+But, out, alas! here have we found him dead. 
+
+
+Re-enter Tamora, with Attendants; Titus 
+ANprRONIcus, and Lucius, 
+
+
+Tam. Where is my lord the king? 
+Sat. Here, Tamora, though grieved with 
+killing grief. 260 
+Tam. Where is thy brother Bassianus? 
+Sat. Now to the bottom dost thou search 
+my wound: 
+Poor Bassianus here lies murdered, 
+Tam. Then all too late I bring this fatal 
+writ, 
+The complot of Wiis timeless tragedy; 
+And wonder greatly that man's face can fold 
+In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny. 
+[She giveth Saturnine a letter, 
+Sat, [Reads] ‘An if we miss to meet him 
+handsomely— 
+Sweet huntsman, Bassianus ‘tis we mean— 
+Do thou so much as dig the grave for him: 
+Thou know’'st our meaning. Look for thy 
+reward 
+Among the nettles at the elder-tree 
+Which overshades the mouth of that same pit 
+Where we decreed to bury Bassianus. 
+Do this, and purchase us thy lasting friends.’ 
+© Tamora! was ever heard the like? 
+This is the pit, and this the elder-tree. 
+Look. sirs, if you can find the huntsman out 
+
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+[Act II, Sc. IV 
+
+
+That should have murder’d Bassianus here. 
+Aar. My gracious lord, here is the bag of 
+gold. 280 
+Sat. [To Titus] Two of thy whelps, fell 
+curs of bloody kind, : 
+Have here bereft my brother of his life. 
+Sirs, drag them from the pit unto the prison: 
+There let them bide until we have devised 
+Some never-heard-of torturing pain for them, 
+Tam, What, are they in this pit? O won- 
+drous thing! 
+How easily murder is discovered! 
+Tit. High emperor, upon my feeble knee 
+I beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed, 
+That this fell fault of my accursed sons, 
+Accursed, if the fault be proved in them,— 
+Sat. If it be proved! you see it is apparent. 
+Who found this letter? Tamora, was it you? 
+Tam. Andronicus himself did take it up. 
+Tit. I did, my lord: yet let me be their bail; 
+For, by my father’s reverend tomb, I vow 
+They shall be ready at your highness’ will 
+To answer their suspicion with their lives. 
+Sat. Thou shalt not bail them: see thou 
+
+
+follow me. 
+Some bring the murder’d body, some the 
+murderers: 300 
+
+
+Let them not speak a word; the guilt is plain; 
+For, by my soul, were there worse end than 
+death, 
+That end upon them should be executed. 
+Tam. Andronicus, I will entreat the king: 
+Fear not, thy Sons; they shall do well enough. 
+Tit. Come, Lucius, come; stay not to talk 
+with them. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Another part of the forest. 
+
+
+Enter DEMETRIUS and CHIRON with La- 
+VINIA, ravished; her hands cut off, and her 
+tongue cut out. 
+
+
+Dem. So, now go tell, an if thy tongue can 
+sneak, 
+he te that cut thy tongue and ravish'd 
+thee. 
+Chi. Write down thy mind, bewray thy 
+meaning so, 
+An if thy stumps will let thee play the scribe. 
+Dem. See, how with signs and tokens she 
+can scrowl. 
+
+
+Chi. Go home, call for sweet water, wash _ 
+
+
+thy hands. 
+
+Dem. She hath no tongue to call, nor 
+hands to wash; 
+
+And so let's leave her to her silent walks. 
+
+Chi. An ‘twere my case, I should go hang 
+myself. 
+
+Dem. If thou hadst hands to help thee knit 
+the cord, [Exeunt Demetrius and Chiron, 
+
+
+205) 
+
+
+Act III, Sc. 1] 
+
+
+Enter Marcus. 
+
+
+Mar. Who is this? my niece, that flies 
+away so fast! if} 
+Cousin, a word; where is your husband? 
+Jf I do dream, would all my wealth would 
+wake me! 
+If I do wake, some planet strike me down, 
+That I may slumber in eternal sleep! 
+Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands 
+Have lopp’d and hew’d and made thy body bare 
+Of her two branches, those sweet ornaments, 
+Whose circling shadows kings have sought to 
+sleep in, 
+And might not gain so great a happiness 20 
+As have thy love? Why dost not speak to me? 
+Alas, a crimson river of warm blood, 
+Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind, 
+Doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips, 
+Coming and going with thy honey breath. 
+But, sure, some Tereus hath deflowered thee, 
+And, lest thou shouldst detect him, cut thy 
+tongue. 
+Ah, now thou turn’st away thy face for shame! 
+And, notwithstanding all this loss of blood, 
+As from a conduit with three issuing spouts, 30 
+Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan's face 
+Blushing to be encounter'd with a cloud. 
+Shall I speak for thee? shall I say ‘tis so? 
+O, that I knew thy heart; and knew the beast, 
+That I might rail at him, to ease my mind! 
+Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp’d, 
+Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is. 
+Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue, 
+And in a tedious sampler sew’d her mind: 
+But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee; 
+A craftier Tereus, cousin, hast thou met, 41 
+And he hath cut those pretty fingers off, 
+That could have better sew'd than Philomel. 
+O, had the monster seen those lily hands 
+Tremble, like aspen-leaves, upon a lute, 
+And make the silken strings delight to kiss 
+them, 
+He vo not then have touch’d them for hi 
+ife! . 
+Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony 
+Which that sweet tongue hath made, 
+He would have dropp'd his knife, and fell 
+asleep 50 
+As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's feet. 
+Come,‘ !et us go, and make thy father blind; 
+For such a sight will blind a father’s eye: 
+One hour’s storm will drown the fragrant 
+meads; 
+What will whole months of tears thy father’s 
+eyes? 
+Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee: 
+O, could our mourning ease thy misery! 
+9 [Exeunt. 
+
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+863 
+
+
+ACT III. 
+
+
+Scene I. Rome. A street. 
+
+Enter Judges, Senators and Tribunes, with 
+Martius and QuintTius, bound, passing on 
+to the place of execution; T1TUS going 
+before, pleading. 
+
+Tit. Hear me, grave fathers! noble tri- 
+bunes, stay! 
+
+For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent 
+
+In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept; 
+
+For all my blood in Rome’s great quarrel shed; 
+
+For all the frosty nights that I have watch'd; 
+
+And for these bitter tears, which now you see 
+
+Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks; 
+
+Be pitiful to my condemned sons, 
+
+Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought. 
+
+For two and twenty sons | never wept, 10 
+
+Because they died in honour’s lofty bed. 
+
+[Lieth down; the Judges, &c., pass by 
+him, and Exeunt, 
+
+For these, these, tribunes, in the dust I write 
+
+My heart's deep languor and my soul's sad 
+
+tears: 
+
+Let my tears staunch the earth's dry appetite; 
+
+My sons’ sweet blood will make it shame and 
+
+blush. 
+
+O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain, 
+
+That shall distil from these two ancient urns, 
+
+Than youthful April shall with all his showers: 
+
+In summer’s drought 1 "Il drop upon thee still; 
+
+In winter with warm tears I ‘Il melt the snow, 
+
+And keep eternal spring-time on thy face, 21 
+
+So thou refuse to drink my dear sons’ blood. 
+
+
+Enter Lucius, with his sword drawn. 
+
+
+O reverend tribunes! O gentle, aged men! 
+Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death; 
+And let me say, that never wept before, 
+My tears are now prevailing orators. 
+
+Luc. O noble father, you lament in vain: 
+The tribunes hear you not; no man is by; 
+And you recount your sorrows to a stone. 
+
+Tit. Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me 
+
+plead. 30 
+Grave tribunes, once more | entreat of you,— 
+
+Luc. My gracious lord, no tribune hears 
+
+you speak. 
+
+Tit. Why, ’tis no matter, man: if they did 
+
+hear, 
+They would not mark me, or if they did mark, 
+They would not pity me, yet plead I must; 
++And bootless unto them. 
+Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones; 
+Who, though they cannot answer my distress, 
+Yet in some sort they are better than the 
+tribunes, 
+
+
++For that they will not intercept my tale: 40 
+
+
+When I do weep, they humbly at my feet 
+
+
+864 
+
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+[Acr IH, Se. I 
+
+
+Receive my tears and seem to weep with me; 
+
+And, were they but attired in grave weeds, 
+
+Rome could afford no tribune like to these. 
+
+A stone is soft as wax,—tribunes more hard 
+than stones; 
+
+A\ stone is silent, and offendeth not, 
+
+And tribunes with their tongues doom men to 
+
+
+death. } [Rises. 
+But wherefore stand’st thou with thy weapon 
+drawn ? 
+
+
+Luc. To rescue my two brothers from their 
+death: 
+For which attempt the judges have pronounced 
+My everlasting doom of banishment. 
+Tit. O happy man! they have befriended 
+ihee. 
+Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive 
+That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers? 
+Tigers must prey, and Rome affords no prey 
+But me and mine: how happy art thou, then, 
+From these devourers to be banished! 
+But who comes with our brother Marcus here? 
+
+
+Enter Marcus and Lavinia. 
+
+
+Marc. Titus, prepare thy aged eyes to weep 
+Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break: 60 
+I bring consuming sorrow to thine age. 
+
+Tit. Will it consume me? let me see 3t, 
+
+then. 
+
+Mare. This was thy daughter. 
+
+Tit. Why, Marcus, so she is. 
+
+Luc. Ay me, this object kills me! 
+
+Tit. Faint-hearted boy, arise, and look 
+
+upon her. 
+Speak, Lavinia, what accursed hand 
+Hath made thee handless in thy father’s sight? 
+What fool hath added water to the sea, 
+Or brought a faggot to bright-burning Troy ? 
+My grief was at the height before thou camest, 
+And now, like Nilus, it disdaineth bounds. 71 
+Give me a sword, I'll chop off my hands too; 
+For they have fought for Rome, and all in 
+vain; 
+And they have nursed this woe, in feeding life; 
+In bootless prayer have they been held up, 
+And they have served me to effectless use: 
+Now all the service I require of them 
+Js that the one will help to cut the other. 
+Tis well, Lavinia, that thout hast no hands: 
+For hands, to do Rome service, are but vain. 80 
+
+Luc. Speak, gentle sister, who hath 
+
+martyr'd thee? 
+
+Marc. O, that delightful engine of her 
+
+thoughts, 
+That blabb’d them with such pleasing elo- 
+quence, 
+Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage, 
+Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung 
+Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear! 
+
+
+Luc. O, say thou for her, who hath done 
+this deed ? 
+Mare. O, thus I found her, straying in the 
+
+
+park, 
+Seeking to hide herself, as doth the deer 
+That hath received some unrecuring wound. 90 
+Tit. It was my deer; and he that wounded 
+her 
+Hath hurt me more than had he kill’d me 
+dead: 
+For now I stand as one upon a rock 
+Environ’d with a wilderness of sea, 
+Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by 
+wave, 
+Expecting ever when some envious surge 
+Will in his brinish bowels swallow him. 
+This way to death my wretched sons are gone; 
+Here stands my other son, a banish’d man, 
+And here my brother, weeping at my woes: 100 
+But that which gives my soul the greatest 
+spurn, 
+Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul. 
+Had I but seen thy picture in this plight, 
+It would have madded me: what shall I do 
+Now I behold thy lively body so? 
+Thou hast no hands, to wipe away thy tears, 
+Nor tongue, to tell me who hath martyr'd 
+thee: 
+Thy husband he is dead; and for his death 
+Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this. 
+Look, Marcus! ah, son Lucius, look on her! 110 
+When I did name her brothers. then fresh tears 
+Stood on her cheeks, as doth the honey-dew 
+Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd. 
+Marc. Perchance she weeps because they 
+kill’d her husband; 
+Perchance because she knows them innocent. 
+Tit. If they did kill thy husband, then be 
+joyful, 
+Because the law hath ta’en revenge on them. 
+No, no, they would not do so foul a deed; 
+Witness the sorrow that their sister makes. 
+Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips; 120 
+Or make some sign how I may do thee ease: 
+Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius, 
+And thou, and I, sit round about some fountain, 
+Looking all downwards, to behold our cheeks 
+How they are stain'd as meadows, yet not dry, 
+With miry slime left on them by a flood? 
+And in the fountain shall we gaze so long 
+Till the fresh taste be taken from that clearness, 
+And made a brine-pit with our bitter tears? 
+Or shall we cut away our hands, like thine? 
+Or shall we bite our tongues, and in dumb 
+shows 
+Pass the remainder of our hateful days? 
+What shall we do? let us. that have our tongues, 
+Plot some device of further misery, 
+To make us wonder'd at in time to come. 
+
+
+* 
+
+
+eae Gee SN TS 
+‘ 4 e mite . n Se 
+
+
+- Act Ill, Se. 1] 
+
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+865 
+
+
+Sienna eee 
+
+
+Luc. Sweet father, cease your tears; for, at 
+your grief, 
+See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps. 
+Marc. Patience, dear niece. Good Titus, 
+dry thine eyes. 
+Tit. Ah, Marcus, Marcus! brother, well I 
+wot 
+Thy napkin cannot drink a tear of mine, 140 
+For thou, poor man, hast drown'd it with 
+thine own. 
+Luc. Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy 
+cheeks. 
+Tit. Mark, Marcus, mark! I understand 
+her signs: 
+Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say 
+That to her brother which I said to thee: 
+His napkin, with his true tears all bewet, 
+Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks. 
+~_O, what a sympathy of woe is this, 
+As far from help as Limbo is from bliss! 
+
+
+Enter Aaron. 
+
+
+Aar. Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor 
+Sends thee this word,—that, if thou love thy 
+sons, 151 
+Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus, 
+Or any one of you, chop off your hand, 
+And send it to the king: he for the same 
+Will send thee hither both thy sons alive; 
+And that shall be the ransom for their fault. 
+Tit. © gracious emperor! O gentle Aaron! 
+Did ever raven sing so like a lark, 
+That gives sweet tidings of the sun’s uprise? 
+With all my heart, I'll send the emperor 160 
+My hand: 
+Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off ? 
+Luc. Stay, father! for that noble hand of 
+_ thine, 
+That hath thrown down so many enemies, 
+Shell not be sent: my hand will serve the 
+turn: 
+
+
+FEISS POLI: 
+
+
+ae ae 
+
+
+oa 
+
+
+My youth can better spare my blood than you: 
+eee. mine shall save my brothers’ 
+ives. 
+Mare. Which of your hands hath not de- 
+fended Rome, 
+
+_ And rear’d aloft the bloody battle-axe, 
+Writing destruction on the enemy’s castle? 170 
+O, none of both but are of hich desert: 
+
+My hand hath been but idle; let it serve 
+
+_ To ransom my two nephews from their death; 
+
+Then have I kept it to a worthy end. 
+
+Aar. Nay, come, agree whose hand shall 
+go along, 
+
+For fear they die before their pardon come. 
+Marc. My hand shall go. 
+
+Luc. By heaven, it shall not go! 
+Tit. Sirs, strive no more: such wither’d 
+
+
+herbs as these 
+
+
+Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine. 
+Luc. Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy 
+son, 180 
+Let me redeem my brothers both from death. 
+Marc. And, for our father’s sake and 
+mother’s care, 
+Now let me show a brother's love to thee. 
+Tit. Agree between you; I will spare my 
+hand. 
+Luc. Then I'll go fetch an axe. 
+Marc. But I will use the axe. 
+[Exeunt Lucius and Marcus. 
+Tit. Come hither, Aaron; I'll deceive 
+them both: 
+Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine. 
+Aar. [Aside] If that be call'’d deceit, J 
+will be honest, 
+And never, whilst I live, deceive men so: 190 
+But I'll deceive you in another sort, 
+And tnat you ‘ll say, ere half an hour pass. 
+[Cuts off Titus’s hand. 
+
+
+Re-enter Lucius and Marcus. 
+
+
+Tit. Now stay your strife: what shall be is 
+dispatch’d. 
+Good Aaron, give his majesty my hand: 
+Tell him it was a hand that warded him 
+From thousand dangers; bid him bury it; 
+More hath it merited; that let it have. 
+As for my sons, say I account of them 
+As jewels purchased at an easy price; 
+And yet dear too, because I bought mine own. 
+Aar. 1 go, Andronicus: and for thy hand 
+Look by and by to have thy sons with thee. 
+[Aside] Their heads, I mean. O, how this 
+villany 
+Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it! 
+Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace, 
+Aaron will have his soul black like his face. 
+[ Exit. 
+Tit. O,here I lift this one hand up to heaven, 
+And bow this feeble ruin to the earth: 
+If any power pities wretched tears, 
+To that I call! [To Lav.] What, wilt thou 
+kneel with me? 210 
+Do, then, dear heart; for heaven shall hear 
+our prayers; 
+Or with our sighs we ‘Il breathe the welkin dim, 
+And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds 
+When they do hug him in their melting 
+bosoms. 
+Marc. O brother, speak with possibilities, 
+And do not break into these deep extremes. 
+Tit. Is not my sorrow deep, having ne 
+bottom ? 
+Then be my passions bottomless with them. 
+Marc. But yet let reason govern thy lament. 
+Tit. If there were reason for these miseries, 
+
+
+} Then into limits could I bind my woes: 
+
+
+866 
+
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+[Acr III, Sc. Il 
+
+
+‘When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth’ 
+
+
+o'erflow? 
+If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, 
+Threatening the welkin with his big-swoln 
+face? 
+And wilt thou have a reason for this coil ? 
+I am the sea; hark, how her sighs do blow! 
+She is the weeping welkin, I the earth: 
+Then must my sea be moved with her sighs; 
+Then must my earth with her continual tears 
+Become a deluge, overflow'd and drown'd 230 
+For why my bowels cannot hide her woes, 
+But like a drunkard must I vomit them. 
+
+Then give me leave, for losers will have leave 
+To case their stomachs with their bitter tongues. 
+Enter a Messenger, with two heads and 
+a hand, 
+
+Mess. Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou re- 
+aid 
+For that good hand thou sent’st the emperor. 
+Here are the heads of thy two noble sons; 
+And here's thy hand, in scorn to thee sent 
+back; 
+Thy griefs their sports, thy resolution mock'd; 
+That woe is me to think upon thy woes 240 
+More than remembrance of my father's death. 
+[Exit. 
+Marc. Now let hot /Etna cool in Sicily, 
+And be my heart an ever-burning hell! 
+These miseries are more than may be borne. 
+To weep with them that weep doth ease some 
+deal; 
+But sorrow flouted at is double death. 
+Luc. Ah, that this sight should make so 
+deep a wound, 
+And yet detested life not shrink thereat! 
+That ever death should let life bear his name, 
+Where life hath no more interest but to breathe! 
+[Lavinia hisses Titus. 
+Marc. Alas, poor heart, that kiss is com- 
+fortless 251 
+As frozen water to a starved snake. 
+Tit. When will this fearful slumber have 
+an, end? 
+Marc. Now, farewell, flattery: die, Andro- 
+nicus; 
+Thou dost not slumber: see, thy two sons’ 
+heads, 
+Thy warlike hand, thy mangled daughter here; 
+Thy other banish'd son, with this dear sight 
+Struck pale and bloodless; and thy brother, I, 
+Even like a stony image, cold and numb. 
+Ah, now no more will I control thy griefs: 260 
+Rend off thy silver hair, thy other hand 
+Gnawing with thy teeth; and be this dismal 
+sight 
+The closing up of our most wretched eyes: 
+Now is a time to storm; why art thou still? 
+
+
+Tit. Ha, ha, ha! 
+
+
+Marc. Why dost thou laugh? it fits not 
+with this hour. 
+Tit. Why, I have not another tear to shed: 
+Besides, this sorrow is an enemy, 
+And would usurp upon my watery eyes, 
+And make them blind with tributary tears: 270 
+Then which way shall I find Revenge’s cave? 
+For these two heads do seem to speak to me, 
+And threat me I shall never come to bliss 
+Till all these mischiefs be return’d again 
+Even in their throats that have committed 
+them. 
+Come, let me see what task I have to do. 
+You heavy people, circle me about, 
+That I may turn me to each one of you, 
+And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs. 
+The vow is made. Come, brother, take a head; 
+And in this hand the other will I bear. 281 
+Lavinia, thou shalt be employ'd: these arms! | 
+Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between thy 
+teeth. 
+As for thee, boy, go get thee from my sight; 
+Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay: 
+Hie to the Goths, and. raise an army there: 
+And, if you love me, as I think you do, 
+Let's kiss and part, for we have much to do. 
+[Exeunt Titus, Marcus, and Lavinia. 
+Luc. Farewell, Andronicus, my noble father, 
+The wofull’st man that ever lived in Rome: 
+Farewell, proud Rome; till Lucius come again, 
+He leaves his pledges dearer than his life: 
+Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister; 
+O, would thou wert as thou tofore hast been! 
+But now nor Lucius nor Lavinia lives 
+But in oblivion and hateful griefs. 
+If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs; 
+And make proud Saturnine and his empress 
+Beg at the gates, like Tarquin and his queen. 
+Now will I go to the Goths, and raise a power, 
+To be revenged on Rome and Saturnine. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+
+
+A room in Titus’s house. A 
+
+banquet set out. 
+
+Enter Titus, Marcus, Lavinia, and young 
+
+Lucius, a Boy. 
+
+So, so; now sit: and look you eat no 
+more 
+
+Than will preserve just so much strength in us 
+
+As will revenge these bitter woes of ours. 
+
+Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot: 
+
+Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our 
+hands, 
+
+And cannot passionate our tenfold grief 
+
+With folded arms. This poor right hand of 
+mine 
+
+Is left to tyrannize upon my breast; 
+
+Who, when my heart, all mad with misery. 
+
+
+Scene™ II. 
+
+
+Tit. 
+
+
+| Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh, 10 
+
+
+fs 
+
+
+—— 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. 1] TITUS ANDRONICUS 867 
+
+
+a nae 
+
+
+Then thus I thump it down. 
+[To Lavinia] Thou map of woe, that thus 
+dost talk “in signs! 
+When thy poor heart heats with outrageous 
+beating, 
+Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still. 
+Wound it with sighing, girl, kill it with groans; 
+Or get some little knife between thy teeth, 
+And just against thy heart make thou a hole; 
+That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall 
+May run into that sink, and soaking in 
+Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears. 20 
+Marc. Fie, brother, fie! teach her not thus 
+to lay 
+Such violent hands upon her tender life. 
+Tit. How now! has sorrow made thee dote 
+already ? 
+Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I. 
+What violent hands can she lay on her life? 
+Ah, wherefore dost thou urge the name of 
+hands; 
+To bid AEneas tell the tale twice o’er, 
+How Troy was burnt and he made miserable ? 
+O, handle not the theme, to talk of hands, 
+Lest we remember still that we have none, 
+Fie, fie, how franticly I square my talk, 
+As if we should forget we had no hands, 
+If Marcus did not name the word of hands! 
+Come, let's fall to; and, gentle girl, eat this: 
+Here is no drink! Hark, Marcus, what she says; 
+I can interpret all her martyr'd signs; 
+She says she drinks no other drink but tears, 
+Brew’d with her sorrow, mesh’d upon her 
+. cheeks: 
+Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought; 
+In thy dumb action will I be as perfect 40 
+As begging hermits in their holy prayers: 
+Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to 
+heaven, 
+Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign, 
+But I of these will wrest an alphabet 
+And by still practice learn to know thy meaning. 
+Boy. Good grandsire, leave these bitter 
+deep laments: 
+Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale. 
+* Marc. Alas, the tender boy, in passion 
+moved, 
+Doth weep to see his grandsire’s heaviness. 
+Tit. Peace, tender sapling; thou art made 
+of tears, ‘ 50 
+And tears will quickly melt thy life away. 
+“[Marcus strikes the dish with a knife. 
+
+
+A deed of death done on the innocent 
+Becomes not Titus’ brother: get thee gone; 
+I see thou art not for my company. 
+Marc. Alas, my lord, I have but kill’d a fly, 
+Tit. But how, if that fly had a father and 
+mother ? 60 
+How would he hang his slender gilded wings, 
+And buzz lamenting doings in the air! 
+Poor harmless fly, 
+That, with his pretty buzzing melody, 
+Came here to make us merry! and thou hast 
+kill'd him. 
+Marc. Pardon me, sir; it was a black ill- 
+favour'd fly, 
+Like to the empress’ Moor: therefore | 
+kill’d him. 
+hit, OOO; 
+Then pardon me for reprehending thee, 
+For thou hast done a charitable deed. 70 
+Give me thy knife, I will insult on him; 
+Flattering myself, as if it were the Moor 
+Come hither purposely to poison me.— 
+There 's for thyself, and that’s for Tamora. 
+Ah, sirrah! 
+Yet, I think, we are not brought so low, 
+But that between us we can kill a fly 
+That comes in likeness of a cool-black Moor. 
+Marc. Alas, poor man! grief has so 
+wrought on him, 
+He takes false shadows for true substances. 80 
+Tit. Come, take away. Lavinia, go with 
+me: 
+I'll to thy closet; and go read with thee 
+Sad stories chanced in the times of old. 
+Come, boy, and go with me: thy sight is 
+
+
+oung, 
+And thou shalt read when mine begin to 
+dazzle. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT IV. 
+
+
+Scene I. Rome. Titus’s garden. 
+
+
+Enter young Lucius, and Lavinia running 
+after him, and the boy flies from her, with 
+books under his arm. Then enter Titus 
+and Marcus. 
+
+Young Luc. Help, grandsire, help! my 
+aunt Lavinia 
+
+Follows me every where, I know not why: 
+
+Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes. 
+
+Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean. 
+Marc. Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear 
+
+
+What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy thine aunt. 
+knife? Tit. She loves thee, boy, too well to do 
+Marc. At that that I have kill’d, my lord; thee harm. 
+
+
+Young Luc. Ay, when my father was in 
+Rome she did. 
+
+Marc. What means my niece Lavinia by 
+these signs? 
+
+
+a fly. 
+Tit. Out on thee, murderer! thou kill'st my 
+heart; 
+Mine eyes are cloy’d with view of tyranny: 
+
+
+868 
+
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc, I 
+
+
+Tit. Fear her not, Lucius: somewhat doth 
+she mean: 
+See, Lucius, see how much she makes of thee: 
+Somewhither would she have thee go with her. 
+Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care 
+Read to her sons than she hath read to thee 
+Sweet poetry and Tully's Orator. 
+Marc. Canst thou not guess wherefore she 
+plies thee thus? 
+Young Luc. My lord, I know not, I, nor 
+can I| guess, 
+Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her: 
+For I have heard my grandsire say full oft, 
+Extremity of griefs would make men mad; 
+And I have read that Hecuba of Troy 20 
+Ran mad for sorrow: that made me to fear; 
+Although, my lord, I know my noble aunt 
+Loves me as dear as e’er my mother did, 
+And would not, but in fury, fright my youth: 
+Which made me down to throw my books, 
+and fly. — 
+Causeless, perhaps. 
+aunt: 
+And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go, 
+I will most willingly attend your ladyship. 
+Marc. Lucius, | will. 
+[Lavinia.turns over with her stumps the 
+books which Lucius has let fall. 
+Tit. How now, Lavinia! Marcus, what 
+means this? 30 
+Some book there is that she desires to see. 
+Which is it, girl, of these? Open them, boy. 
+But thou art deeper read, and better skill’d: 
+Come, and take choice of all my library, 
+And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens 
+Reveal the damn’d contriver of this deed. 
+Why lifts she up her arms in sequence thus? 
+Marc. I think she means that there was 
+more than one 
+Confederate in the fact: ay, more there was; 
+Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge. 
+Tit. Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so? 
+Young Luc. Grandsire, "tis Ovid’s Meta- 
+morphoses; 
+My mother gave it me. 
+Marc. For love of her that’s gone, 
+Perhaps she cull’d it from among the rest. 
+Tit. Soft! see how busily she turns the 
+leaves! [Helping her, 
+What would she find? Lavinia, shall I read? 
+This is the tragic tale of Philomel, 
+And treats of Tereus’ treason and his rape; 
+And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy. 
+Marc. See, brother, see; note how she 
+quotes the leaves. 50 
+Tit. Lavinia, wert thou thus surprised, 
+sweet girl, 
+Ravish’d and wrong’d, as Philomela was, 
+Forced in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods? 
+
+
+But pardon me, sweet 
+
+
+See, see! 
+Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt— 
+Q, had we never hunted there!— 
+Pattern’d by that the poet here describes, 
+By nature made for murders and for rapes. 
+Marc. O, why should nature build so foul 
+a den, 
+Unless the gods delight in tragedies? 60 
+Tit. Give signs, sweet girl, for here are 
+none but friends, 
+What Roman lord it was durst do the deed: 
+Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst, 
+That left the camp to sin in Lucrece’ bed? 
+Marc. Sit down, sweet niece: brother, sit 
+down by me. 
+Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury, 
+Inspire me, that I may this treason find! 
+My lord, look here: look here, Lavinia: 
+This sandy plot is plain; guide, if thou canst, 
+This after me, when | have writmy name 70 
+Without the help of any hand at all. 
+[He priles his name with his staff, and 
+guides it with feet and mouth. 
+Cursed be that heart that forced us to this 
+shift! 
+Write thou, good niece; and here display, at 
+last, 
+What God will have discover'd for revenge: 
+Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows 
+plain, 
+That we may know the traitors and the truth! 
+[She takes the staff in her mouth, and 
+guides it with her stumps, and writes. 
+Tit. O, do ye read, my lord, what she hath 
+writ? 
+‘Stuprum. Chiron. Demetrius.’ 
+Marc. What, what! the lustful sons of 
+Tamora 
+Performers of this heinous, bloody deed? 80 
+Tit. Magni Dominator poli, 
+Tam lentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides? 
+Marc. O, calm thee, gentle lord; although 
+I know ‘ 
+There is enough written upon this earth 
+To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts 
+And arm the minds of infants to exclaims. 
+My lord, kneel down with me; Lavinia, kneel; 
+And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector’s 
+hope; 
+And swear with me, as, with the woful fere 
+And father of that chaste dishonour’d dame, 
+Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece’ rape, 
+That we will prosecute by good advice 
+Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths, 
+And see their blood, or die with this reproach. 
+Tit. "Tis sure enough, an you knew how. 
+But if you hunt these bear-whelps, then be- 
+ware: 
+The dam will wake; and, if she wind you once, 
+
+
+ae ar: \ 
+- Act IV, Sc. I] 
+
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+869 
+
+
+Sinn se EEE End NEUES SRST 
+
+
+She ’s with the lion deeply still in league, 
+
+And fulis him whilst she playeth on her back, 
+
+And when he sleeps will she do what she list, 
+
+You aré a young huntsman, Marcus; let it 
+alone; 10) 
+
+And, come, I will go get a leaf of brass, 
+
+And with a gad of steel will write these words, 
+
+And lay it by: the angry northern wind 
+
+Will blow these sands, like Sibyl’s leaves, 
+abroad, 
+
+And where’s your lesson, then? Boy, what 
+say you? 
+
+Young Luc. I say, my lord, that if I were 
+
+a man, 
+Their mother’s bed-chamber should not be safe 
+For these bad bondmen to the yoke of Rome. 
+Marc. Ay, that’s my boy! thy father hath 
+full oft 110 
+~ For his ungrateful country done the like. 
+
+Young Luc. And, uncle, so will I, an if I 
+
+live. 
+
+Tit. Come, go with me into mine armoury; 
+Lucius, I ‘ll fit thee; and withal, my boy, 
+Shalt carry from me to the empress’ sons 
+Presents that I intend to send them both: 
+Come, come; thou 'lt do thy message, wilt 
+
+thou not? 
+
+Young Luc. Ay, with my dagger in their 
+
+bosoms, grandsire. 
+
+Tit. No, boy, not so; I'll teach thee an- 
+
+other course. 
+Lavinia, come. Marcus, look to my house: 120 
+Lucius and I'll go brave it at the court; 
+Ay; marry, will we, sir; and we ‘ll be waited 
+
+
+on. 
+[Exeunt Titus, Lavinia, and Young Luc. 
+Marc. O heavens, can you hear a good 
+man groan, 
+And not relent, or not compassion him? 
+Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy, 
+
+_ That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart 
+Than foemen’s marks upon his batter’d shield; 
+But yet so just that he will not revenge. 
+Revenge, ye heavens, for old Andronicus! 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+
+
+Scene II. Thesame. A room in the palace. 
+
+
+Enter, from one side, AARON, DEMETRIUS, 
+and CHIRON; from the other side, young 
+Luciws, and an Attendant, with a bundle 
+of weapons, and verses writ upon them. 
+
+
+Chi. Demetrius, here’s the son of Lucius; 
+He hath some message to deliver us. 
+Aar. Ay, some mad message from his mad 
+
+
+grandfather. 
+Young Luc. My lords, with all the hum- 
+
+
+bleness I may, 
+
+
+I greet your honours from Andronicus. 
+[Aside] And pray the Roman gods confound 
+you both! 
+Dem. Gramercy, lovely Lucius: what’s the 
+news ? 
+Young Luc. [Aside] That you are both 
+decipher'd, that’s the news, 
+For villains mark’d with rape——May it please 
+you, 
+My grandsire, well advised, hath sent by me 10 
+The goodliest weapons of his armoury 
+To gratify your honourable youth, 
+The hope of Rome; for so he bade me say: 
+And so I do, and with his gifts present 
+Your lordships, that, whenever you have need, 
+You may be armed and appointed well: 
+And so I| leave you both: [Aside] like bloody 
+villains. 
+[Exeunt young Lucius and Attendant. 
+Dem. What's here? A scroll; and writ- 
+ten round about? 
+Let's see: 
+[Reads] ‘Integer vite, scelerisque purus, 20 
+Non eget Mauri jaculis, nec arcu.” 
+Chi. O,'tis a versein Horace; I knowitwell: 
+I read it in the grammar long ago. 
+Aar. Ay, just; a verse in Horace; right, 
+you have it. 
+[Aside] Now, what a thing it is to be an ass! 
+Here's no sound jest! the old man hath found 
+their guilt; 
+And sends them weapons wrapp'd about with 
+lines, 
+That wound, beyond their feeling, to the quick. 
+But were our witty empress well afoot, 
+She would applaud Andronicus’ conceit: 30 
+But let her rest in her unrest awhile. 
+
+
+And now, young lord, was ‘t not a happy star 
+Led us to Rome, strangers, and more than so, 
+Captives, to be advanced to this height? 
+It did me good, before the palace gate 
+To brave the tribune in his brother’s hearing. 
+Dem. But me more good, to see so great a 
+lord 
+Basely insinuate and send us gifts. 
+Aar. Had he not reason, Lord Demetrius? 
+Did you not use his daughter very friendly? 40 
+Dem. I would we had a thousand Roman 
+dames 
+At such a bay, by turn to serve our lust. 
+Chi. A charitable wish and full of iove. 
+Aar. Here lacks but your mother for to 
+say amen. 
+Chi. And that would she for twenty thou- 
+sand more. 
+Dem. Come, let us go; and pray to all 
+the gods 
+For our beloved mother in her pains. 
+
+
+870 
+
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc. Il 
+
+
+Aar, [Aside] Pray to the devils; the gods 
+
+
+have given us over. 
+
+
+Dem. I'll broach 
+
+
+rapier's point: 
+
+
+the tadpole on my 
+
+
+[Trumpets sound within. Nurse, give it me; my sword shall soon dis- 
+
+
+Dem. Why do the emperor's trumpets 
+flourish thus? 
+
+Chi. Belike, for joy the emperor hath a son. 
+
+Dem. Soft! who comes here? 
+
+
+Enter a Nurse, with a blackamoor Child in 
+her arms. 
+
+
+Nur. Good morrow, lords: 
+O, tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor? 
+Aar. Well, more or less, or ne'er a whit 
+at. all, 
+Here Aaron is; and what with Aaron now > 
+Nur. O gentle Aaron, we are all undone! 
+Now help, or woe betide thee evermore! 
+Aar. Why, what a caterwauling dost thou 
+keep! 
+What dost thou wrap and fumble in thine 
+arms? 
+Nur. O, that which I would hide from 
+heaven's eye, 
+Our empress’ shame, and stately Rome's dis- 
+grace! 
+She is deliver'd, lords; she is deliver'd. 
+Aar. To whom? 
+Nur. I mean, she is brought a-bed. 
+Aar. Well, God give her good rest! What 
+hath he sent her ? 
+Nur. A devil. 
+Aar. Why, then she is the devil's dam; a 
+joyful issue. 
+Nur. A joyless, dismal, black, and sorrow- 
+ful issue: 
+Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad 
+Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime: 
+The empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal, 
+And bids thee christen it with thy dagger’s 
+point. 70 
+Aar. ‘Zounds, ye whore! is black so base a 
+hue? 
+Sweet blowse, you are 
+sure. 
+Dem. Villain, what hast thou done? 
+Aar. That which thou canst not undo. 
+Chi. Thou hast undone our mother. 
+Dem. And therein, hellish dog, thou hast 
+undone. 
+Woe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed 
+choice! 
+Accursed the offspring of so foul a fiend! 
+Chi. It shall not live. 
+Aar. It shall not die. 
+Nar. Aaron, it must; the mother wills it so. 
+Aar. What, must it, nurse? then let no man 
+but I 
+Do execution on my flesh and blood. 
+
+
+a beauteous blossom, 
+
+
+patch it. 
+Aar. Sooner this sword shall plough thy 
+bowels up. 
+[Takes the Child from the Nurse, 
+and draws. 
+Stay, murderous villains! will you kill your 
+brother ? 
+
+
+Now, by the burning tapers of the sky, 
+
+That shone so brightly when this boy was got, 
+
+He dies upon my scimitar’s sharp point 91 
+
+That touches this my first-born son and heir! 
+
+I tell you, younglings, not Enceladus, ; 
+
+With all his threatening band of Typhon’s — 
+brood, 
+
+Nor great Alcides, nor the god of war, 
+
+Shall seize this prey out of his father’s hands. 
+
+What, what, ye sanguine, shallow-hearted boys! 
+
+Ye white-limed walls! ye alehouse painted 
+signs! 
+
+Coal-black is better than another hue, 
+
+In that it scorns to bear another hue; 
+
+For all the water in the ocean 
+
+Can never turn the swan’s black legs to white, 
+
+Although she lave them hourly in the flood. 
+
+Tell the empress from me, I am of age 
+
+To keep mine own, excuse it how she can. 
+
+Dem. Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress 
+
+thus? 
+
+Aar. My mistress is my mistress; this myself, 
+The vigour and the picture of my youth: 
+This before all the world do I prefer; 
+
+This maugre all the world will I keep safe, 110 
+Or some of you shall smoke for it in Rome. 
+
+Dem. By this our mother is for ever shamed. 
+
+Chi. Rome will despise her for this foul 
+
+escape. 
+
+Nur. The emperor, in his rage, will doom 
+
+her death. 
+
+Chi. I blush to think upon this ignomy. 
+
+Aar. Why, there’s the privilege your 
+
+beauty bears: 
+Fie, treacherous hue, that will betray with 
+blushing 
+The close enacts and counsels of the heart! 
+Here 's a young lad fraried of another leer: 
+Look, how the black slave smiles upon the 
+father, 120 
+As who should say ‘Old lad, I am thine 
+own.” 
+He is your brother, lords, sensibly fed 
+
+
+100 
+
+
+0 | Of that selt-blood that first gave !ife to you, 
+
+
+And from the womb where you imprison’ 
+were 
+
+He is enfranchised and come to light: 
+
+Nay, he is your brother by the surer side, 
+
+Although my seal be stamped in his face. 
+
+
+_ But say, again, how many saw the child? 140 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. II] 
+
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+871 
+
+
+Se cee OOD 
+
+
+Nur. Aaron, what shall I say unto the 
+empress ? 
+Dem. Advise thee, Aaron, what is to be 
+done, 
+And we will all subscribe to thy advice: 130 
+Save thou the child, so we may all be safe. 
+Aar. Then sit we down, and let us all 
+consult. 
+My son and | will have the wind of you: . 
+Keep there: now talk at pleasure of your 
+safety. [They sit. 
+Dem. How many women saw this child 
+of his? 
+Aar. Why, so, brave lords! when we join 
+in league, 
+I am a lamb: but if you brave the Moor, 
+The chafed boar, the mountain lioness, 
+The ocean swells not so as Aaron storms. 
+
+
+Nur. Cornelia the midwife and myself; 
+And no one else but the deliver'd empress. 
+Aar. The empress, the midwife, and your- 
+self: 
+Two may keep counsel when the third ’s away: 
+Go to the empress, tell her this I said. 
+[He kills the nurse. 
+Weke, weke! so cries a pig prepared to the spit. 
+Dem. What mean’st thou, Aaron? where- 
+fore didst thou this? 
+Aar. O Lord, sir, ‘tis a deed of policy: 
+Shall she live to betray this guilt of ours, 
+A long-tongued babbling gossip? no, lords, no: 
+And now be it known to you my full intent. 
+Not far, one Muli lives, my countryman; 
+His wife but yesternight was brought to bed; 
+His child is like to her, fair as you are: 
+Go pack with him, and give the mother gold, 
+And tell them both the circumstance of all, 
+And how by this their child shall be advanced, 
+And be received for the emperor's heir, 
+And substituted in the place of mine, 
+To calm this tempest whirling in the court; 160 
+And let the emperor dandle him for his own. 
+Hark ye, lords; ye see I have given her physic, 
+[Pointing to the nurse, 
+And you must needs bestow her funeral; 
+The fields are near, and you are gallant grooms: 
+This done, see that you take no longer days, 
+But send the midwife presently to me. 
+The midwife and the nurse well made away, 
+Then. let the ladies tattle what they please. 
+Chi. Aaron, 1 see thou wilt not trust the air 
+With secrets. 
+Dem. For this care of Tamora, 170 
+Herself and hers are highly bound to thee. 
+[Exeunt Dem. and Chi. bearing off the 
+Nurse's bodv. 
+Aar. Now to the Goths, as swift as swal- 
+low flies; 
+
+
+There to dispose this treasure in mine arms, 
+
+And secretly to greet the empress’ friends. 
+
+Come on, you thick-lipp’d slave, I ‘Il bear you 
+hence; 
+
+For it is you that puts us to our shifts: 
+
+I'll make you feed on berries and on roots, 
+
+
+And +feed on curds and whey, and suck the 
+goat, 
+
+And cabin in a cave, and bring you up_ 179 
+
+To be a warrior, and command a camp. [Exit. 
+
+
+Scene III. The same. A public place. 
+
+
+Eater Titus, bearing arrows with letters al 
+the ends of them; with him, Marcus, 
+young Lucius, Pusiius, SEMPRONIUS, 
+Caius, and other Gentlemen, with bows. 
+
+
+Tit. Come, Marcus; come, kinsman; this 
+is the way. 
+Sir boy, now let me see your archery; 
+Look ye draw home enough, and ‘tis there 
+straight. 
+Terras Astrea reliquit: 
+Be you remember'd, Marcus, she’s gone, 
+she's fled. 
+Sirs, take you to your tools, You, cousins, 
+shall 
+Go sound the ocean, and cast your nets; 
+Happily you may catch her in the sea; 
+Yet there ’s as little justice as at land: 9 
+No; Publius and Sempronius, you must do it; 
+’Tis you must dig with mattock and with 
+spade, 
+And pierce the inmost centre of the earth: 
+Then, when you come to Pluto's region, 
+I pray you, deliver him this petition; 
+Tell him, it is for justice and for aid, 
+And that it comes from old Andronicus, 
+Shaken with sorrows in ungrateful Rome. 
+Ah, Rome! Well, well; 1 made thee mis- 
+erable 
+What time I threw the people’s suffrages 
+On him that thus doth tyrannize o'er me. 
+Go, get you gone; and pray be careful all, 
+And leave you not a man-of-war unsearch’d: 
+This wicked emperor may have shipp’d her 
+hence; 
+And, kinsmen, then may we go pipe for 
+justice. 
+Marc. O Publius, is not this a heavy case, 
+To see thy noble uncle thus distract? 
+Pub, Therefore, my lord, it highly us con- 
+cerns 
+By day and night to attend him carefully, 
+And feed his humour kindly as we may, 
+
+
+Till time beget some careful remedy. 30 
+Marc. Kinsmen, his sorrows are past rem- 
+edy. 
+
+
+Join with the Goths; and with revengeful war 
+Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude, 
+
+
+872 
+
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc. III 
+
+
+And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine. 
+Tit. Pubhus, how now! how now, my 
+masters! 
+‘What, have you met with her? 
+Pub. No, my good lord; but Pluto sends 
+you word, 
+If you will have Revenge from hell, you shall: 
+Marry, for Justice, she is so employ'd, 
+He thinks, with Jove in heaven, or somewhere 
+else, 
+So that perforce you must needs stay a time. 
+Tit. He doth me wrong to feed me with 
+delays. 
+I'll dive into the burning lake below, 
+And pull her out of Acheron by the heels. 
+Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we, 
+No big-boned men framed of the Cyclops’ 
+size; 
+But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back, 
+Yet wrung with wrongs more than our backs 
+can bear: 
+And sith there 's no justice in earth nor hell, 
+We will solicit heaven and move the gods 50 
+Teo send down Justice for to wreak our 
+
+
+wrongs. 
+Come, to this gear. You are a good archer, 
+Marcus; [He gives them the arrows. 
+
+
+“Ad Jovem,’ that’s for you: here, “Ad Apolli- 
+nem: 
+*Ad Martem,’ that’s for myself: 
+Here, boy, to Pallas: here, to Mercury: 
+To Saturn, Caius, not to Saturnine; 
+‘You were as good to shoot against the wind. 
+To it, boy! Marcus, loose when I bid. 
+Of my word, I have written to effect; 
+There's not a god left unsolicited. 60 
+Marc. Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into 
+the court: 
+We will afflict the emperor in his pride. 
+Tit. Now, masters, draw. [They shoot.] 
+O, well said, Lucius! 
+Good boy, in Virgo's lap; give it Pallas. 
+Marc. My lord, I aim a mile beyond the 
+moon; 
+Your letter is with Jupiter by this. 
+Tit. Ha, ha! 
+Publius, Publius, what hast thou done? 
+See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus’ 
+horns. 
+Marc. This was the sport, my lord: when 
+Publius shot, 70 
+The Bull, being gall'’d, gave Aries such a 
+knock 
+That down fell both the Ram's horns in the 
+
+
+court; 
+
+And who should find them but the empress’ 
+villain? 
+
+She laugh'd, and told the Moor he should not 
+
+
+choose 
+
+
+But give them to his master for a present. 
+Tit. Why, there it goes: God give his 
+lordship joy! 
+
+
+Enter a Clown, with a basket, and two 
+pigeons in it. 
+
+
+News, news from heaven! 
+is come. 
+
+Sirrah, what tidings? have you any letters? 
+
+Shall I have justice? what says Jupiter? 79 
+
+Clo. O, the gibbet-maker! he says that he 
+hath taken them down again, for the man 
+must not be hanged till the next week. 
+
+Tit, But what says lupiter, I ask her? 
+
+Clo. Alas, sir, | know not Jupiter; I never 
+drank with him in all my life. 
+
+Tit. Why, villain, art not thou the cars 
+
+rier? 
+
+Clo. Ay, of my pigeons, sir; nothing else, 
+
+Tit. Why, didst thou not come from hea- 
+
+ven? 
+
+Clo. From heaven! alas, sir, I never came 
+there: God forbid I should be so bold to press 
+to heaven in my young days. Why, I am 
+going with my pigeons to the tribunal plebs, to 
+take up a matter of brawl betwixt my uncle 
+and one of the emperial's men. 
+
+Marc. Why, sir, that is as fit as can be to 
+serve for your oration; and let him deliver the 
+pigeons to the emperor from you. 
+
+Tit. Tell me, can you deliver an oration to 
+the emperor with a grace > 
+
+Clo. Nay, truly sir, I could never say grace 
+
+
+Marcus, the poss 
+
+
+in all my life. 101 
+Tit. Sirrah, come thither: make no more 
+ado, 
+
+
+But give your pigeons to the emperor: 
+
+By me thou shalt have justice at his hands. 
+
+Hold, hold; meanwhile here 's money for thy 
+charges. 
+
+Give me pen and ink. Sirrah, can you with 
+
+a grace deliver a supplication? 
+
+Clo. Ay, sir, 
+
+Tit. Then here is a supplication for you. 
+And when you come to him, at the first ap- 
+proach you must kneel, then kiss his foot, then 
+deliver up your pigeons, and then look for 
+your reward, I'll be at hand, sir; see you do 
+it bravely. 
+
+Clo. I warrant you, sir, let me alone. 
+
+Tit. Sirrah, hast thou a knife? come, let 
+
+me see it, 
+Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration; 
+For thou hast made it like an humble suppli- 
+ant. 
+And when thou hast given it the emperor, 
+Knock at my door, and tell me what he says. 
+Clo. God be with you, sir; I will, 120 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. IV] TITUS ANDRONICUS 873 
+
+
+See eae eee eee cTEMTInETEEEE EE 
+
+
+Clo. "Tis he. God and Saint Stephen give 
+you good den: I have brought you a letter and 
+a couple of pigeons here. 
+
+[Saturninus reads the letter, 
+
+Sat. Go, take him away, and hang him 
+
+presently. 
+
+Clo. How much money must | have> 
+
+Tam. Come, sirrah, you must be hanged. 
+
+Clo. Hanged! by’r lady, then I have 
+‘| brought up a neck to a fair end. 
+
+[Exit, guarded. 
+
+Sat. Despiteful and intolerable wrongs! 50 
+Shall I endure this monstrous villany > 
+I know from whence this same device pro- 
+
+ceeds: 
+May this be borne?—as if his traitorous sons, 
+That died by law for murder of our brother, 
+Have by my means been butcher’d wrong- 
+fully! 
+Go, drag the villain hither by the hair; 
+Nor age nor honour shall shape privilege: 
+For this proud mock I'll be thy slaughter- 
+man; 
+Sly frantic wretch, that hop’st to make me 
+
+
+Tit. Come, Marcus, let us go. Publius, 
+follow me. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. The same. Before the palace. 
+
+
+Enter SaturNINUS, TAMoRA, DEMETRIUS, 
+Cuiron, Lords, and others; SATURNINUS |- 
+with the arrows in his hand that Titus shol. 
+
+
+Sat. Why, lords, what wrongs are these! 
+
+was ever seen 
+
+An emperor in Rome thus overborne, 
+
+Troubled, confronted thus; and, for the extent 
+
+Of egal justice, used in such contempt? 
+
+My lords, you know, as know the mightful 
+gods, 
+
+However these disturbers of our peace 
+
+Buz in the people’s ears, there nought hath 
+pass'd, 
+
+But even with law, against the wilful sons 
+
+Of old Andronicus. And what an if 
+
+His sorrows have so overwhelm'd his wits, 10 
+
+Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks, 
+
+His fits, his frenzy, and his bitterness? 
+
+And now he writes to heaven for his redress: 
+
+See, here's to Jove, and this to Mercury; 
+
+This to Apollo; this to the god of war; 
+
+Sweet scrolls to fly about the streets of Rome! 
+
+What's this but libelling against the senate, 
+
+And blazoning our injustice every where? 
+
+A goodly humour, is it not, my lords? 
+
+As who would say, in Rome no justice were. 
+
+But if I live, his feigned ecstasies 
+
+Shall be no shelter to these outrages: 
+
+But he and his shall know that justice lives 
+
+In: Saturninus’ health, whom, if she sleep, 
+
+He'll so awake as she in fury shall 
+
+Cut off the proud’st conspirator that lives, 
+
+Tam. My gracious lord, my lovely Satur- 
+
+nine, ; 
+
+Lord of my life, commander of my thoughts, 
+
+Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus’ age, 
+
+The effects of sorrow for his valiant sons, 30 
+
+Whose loss hath pierced him deep and scarr’d 
+his heart; 
+
+And rather comfort his distressed plight 
+
+Than prosecute the meanest or the best 
+
+For these contempts. [Aside] Why, thus it 
+shall become 
+
+High-witted Tamora to gloze with all: 
+
+But, Titus, I have touch’d thee to the quick, 
+
+Thy life-blood out: if Aaron now be wise, 
+
+Then ‘is all safe, the anchor 's in the port. 
+
+
+Enter Clown. 
+How now, good fellow! wouldst thou speak 
+
+
+great, 
+In hope thyself should govern Rome and me. 
+Enter FEMILIus,. 
+What news with thee, AEmilius? 
+
+
+Emil. Arm, arm, my lord;—Rome never 
+had more ceuse. 
+The Goths have gather’d head; and with a 
+power 
+Of high-resolved men, bent to the spoil, 
+They hither march amain, under conduct 
+Of Lucius, son to old Andronicus; 
+Who threats, in course of this revenge, to do 
+As much as ever Coriolanus did. 
+Sat. Is warlike Lucius general of the 
+Goths? 
+These tidings nip me, and I hang the head 70 
+As flowers with frost or grass beat down with 
+storms: 
+Ay, now begin our sorrows to approach: 
+’Tis he the common people love so much; 
+Myself hath often over-heard them say, 
+When I have walked like a private man, 
+That Lucius’ banishment was wrongfully, 
+And they have wish'd that Lucius were their 
+emperor 
+Tam. Why should you fear? is not your 
+city strong? 
+Sat. Ay, but the citizens favour Lucius, 
+And will revolt from me to succour him. 80 
+
+
+with us? Tam. King, be thy thoughts imperious, like 
+Clo. Yea, forsooth, an your mistership be thy name. 
+
+emperial. 40| Is the sun dimm’d, that gnats do fly in it? 
+Tam. Empress I am, but yonder sits the | The eagie suffers little birds to sing, 
+
+
+emperor. And is not careful what they mean thereby, 
+
+
+874 
+
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+[Acr V, Sc, I 
+
+
+Knowing that with the shadow of his wings 
+He can at pleasure stint their melody; 
+Even so mayst thou the giddy men of Rome. 
+Then cheer thy spirit: for know, thou em- 
+peror, 
+I will enchant the old Andronicus 
+With words more sweet, and yet more dan- 
+gerous, 
+Than baits to fish, or honey-stalks to sheep, 91 
+When as the one is wounded with the bait, 
+The other rotted with delicious feed. 
+Sat. But he will not entreat his son for us. 
+Tam. \f Tamora entreat him, then he will: 
+For I can smooth and fill his aged ear 
+With golden promises; that, were his heart 
+Almost impregnable, his old ears deaf, 
+Yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue, 
+[To AEmilius] Go thou before, be our am- 
+bassador: 100 
+Say that the emperor requests a parley 
+Of warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting 
+Even at his father’s house, the old Andronicus. 
+Sat. /Emilius, do this message honourably : 
+And if he stand on hostage for his safety, 
+Bid him demand what pledge will please him 
+best. 
+Emil. Your vidding shall I do yet 
+xil. 
+Tam. Now will I to that old Andronicus, 
+And temper him with all the art I have, 
+To pluck proud Lucius from the warlike 
+Goths. 
+And now, sweet emperor, be blithe again, 111 
+And bury all thy fear in my devices. 
+Sat. Then go successantly, and plead to 
+him. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT V. 
+Scene I. Plains near Rome. 
+
+
+Enter Lucius with an army of Goths, with 
+drum and colours. 
+Luc. Approved warriors, and my faithful 
+friends, 
+I have received letters from great Rome, 
+Which signify what hate they bear their em- 
+peror 
+And how desirous of our sight they are. 
+Therefore, great lords, be, as your titles wit- 
+ness, 3 
+Imperious and ‘mpatient of your wrongs, 
+And wherein Rome hath done you any scath, 
+Let him make treble satisfaction. 
+First Goth. Brave slip, sprung from the 
+great Andronicus, 
+Whose name was once our terror, now our 
+comfort; 10 
+Whose high exploits and honourable deeds 
+
+
+Ingrateful Rome requites with foul contempt, 
+
+
+Be bold in us: we'll follow where thou lead’st, | 
+
+
+Like stinging bees in hottest summer's day 
+Led by their master to the flowered fields, 
+And be avenged on cursed Tamora. 
+All the Goths. And as he saith, so say we 
+all with him, 
+Luc. I humbly thank him, and I thank you 
+all. 
+But who comes here, led by a lusty Goth? 
+
+
+Enter a Goth, leading Aaron with his Child 
+
+
+in his arms, 
+
+
+Sec, Goth. Renowned Lucius, from our 
+
+troops I stray’d 20 
+
+To gaze upon a ruinous monastery; 
+
+And, as | earnestly did fix mine eye 
+
+Upon the wasted building, suddenly 
+
+I heard a child cry underneath a wall. 
+
+I made unto the noise; when soon | heard 
+
+The crying babe controll'd with this discourse: 
+
+“Peace, tawny slave, half me and half thy 
+dam! 
+
+Did not thy hue betray whose brat thou art, — 
+
+Had nature lent thee but thy mother’s look, 
+
+Villain, thou mightst have been an emperor: 
+
+But where the bull and cow are both milk- 
+white, 
+
+They never do beget a coal-black calf, 
+
+Peace, villain, peace!’'—even thus he rates the 
+babe,— 
+
+‘For I must bear thee to a trusty Goth; 
+
+Who, when he knows thou art the empress’ 
+babe, 
+
+Will hold theesdearly for thy mother's sake.’ 
+
+Wake my weapon drawn, I rush'd upon 
+
+im, 
+
+Surprised him suddenly, and brought him 
+hither, 
+
+To use as you think needful of the man. 
+
+Luc. O worthy Goth, this is the incarnate 
+
+devil 40 
+That robb'd Andronicus of his good hand; 
+This is the pearl that pleased your empress’ 
+
+eye, 
+And here's the base fruit of his burning lust. 
+Say, wall-eyed slave, whither wouldst thou 
+convey 
+This growing image of thy fiend-like face? 
+Why dost not speak? what, deaf? not a 
+word? 
+A halter, soldiers! hang him on this tree, 
+And by his side his fruit of bastardy. 
+
+Aar. Touch not the boy; he is of royal 
+
+blood. 
+
+Luc. Too like the sire for ever being good. 
+First hang the child, that he may see it sprawl; 
+A sight to vex the father’s soul withal, 
+
+Get me a ladder. 
+[A ladder is brought, which Aaron is 
+
+
+made to ascend, 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. I] 
+
+
+Aar. Lucius, save the child, 
+And bear it from me to the empress. 
+,If thou do this, I'll show thee wondrous 
+things, 
+That highly may advantage thee to hear: 
+If thou wilt not, befall what may befall, 
+I'll oat no more but ‘Vengeance rot you 
+alll’ 
+Luc. Say on: an if it please me which 
+thou speak’st, 
+The child shall live, and I will see it nourish’d. 
+Aar. An if it please thee! why, assure 
+thee, Lucius, 6 
+"Twill vex thy soul to hear what I shall 
+speak ; 
+For I must talk of murders, rapes, and massa- 
+
+
+cres, 
+
+Acts of black night, abominable deeds. 
+Complots of mischief, treason, villanies 
+Ruthful to hear, yet piteously perform'd: 
+And this shall all be buried by my death, 
+Unless thou swear to me my child shall live. 
+
+Luc. Tell on thy mind; | say thy child 
+
+shall live. 
+
+Aar. Swear that he shall, and then I will 
+begin. 70 
+Luc. Who should I swear by? thou be- 
+
+lievest no god: 
+
+_ That granted, how canst thou believe an oath? 
+Aar. What if I do not? as, indeed, I do 
+
+
+not; 
+Yet, for I know thou art religious 
+And hast a thing within thee called con- 
+science, 
+With twenty popish tricks and ceremonies, 
+Which I have seen thee careful to observe, 
+Therefore I urge thy oath; for that I know 
+An idiot holds his bauble for a god 
+And keeps the oath which by that god he 
+swears, 80 
+To that I'll urge him: therefore thou shalt 
+vow 
+By that same god, what god soe’er it be, 
+That thou adorest, and hast in reverence, 
+To save my boy, to nourish and bring him up; 
+Or else I will discover nought to thee. 
+Luc. Even by my god, I swear to thee I 
+will. 
+Aar. First know thou, I begot him on the 
+empress. 
+Luc, O most insatiate and luxurious wo- 
+man! 
+Aar. Tut, Lucius, that was but a deed of 
+charity 
+To that which thou shalt hear of me anon. 90 
+*Twas her two sons that murder’d Bassianus; 
+They cut thy sister's tongue and ravish'd her 
+And cut her hands and trimm’d her as thou 
+saw’st. 
+
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+875 
+
+
+Luc. O detestable villain! call’st thou that 
+trimming ? 
+Aar. Why, she was wash'd and cut and 
+trimm’d, and ‘twas 
+Trim sport for them that had the doing of it. 
+Luc. O barbarous, beastly villains, like 
+thyself! 
+Aar. Indeed, I was their tutor to instruct 
+them: 
+That codding spirit had they from their 
+mother, 
+As sure a card as ever won the set; 100 
+That bloody mind, I think, they learn’d of 
+me, 
+As true a dog as ever fought at head. 
+Well, let my deeds be witness of my worth. 
+I train'd thy brethren to that guileful hole 
+Where the dead corpse of Bassianus lay: 
+I wrote the letter that thy father found 
+And hid the gold within the letter mention’d, 
+Confederate with the queen and her two sons: 
+And what not done, that thou hast cause to 
+
+
+rue, 
+Wherein I had no stroke of mischief in it? 110 
+I play'd the cheater for thy father’s hand. 
+And, when I had it, drew myself apart 
+And almost broke my heart with extreme 
+laughter: 
+I pry’d me through the crevice of a wall 
+When, for his hand, he had his two sons’ 
+heads; 
+Beheld his tears, and laugh’d so heartily, 
+That both mine eyes were rainy like to his: 
+And when | told the empress of this sport, 
+She swooned almost at my pleasing tale, 
+And for my tidings gave me twenty kisses. 120 
+First Goth. What, canst thou say all this, 
+and never blush ? 
+ar, Ay, like a black dog, as the saying is. 
+Luc. Art thou not sorry for these heinous 
+deeds? 
+Aar. Ay, that I had not done a thousand 
+more. 
+Even now I curse the day—and yet, | think, 
+Few come within the compass of my curse— 
+Wherein I did not some notorious ill, 
+As kill a man, or else devise his death, 
+Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it, 
+Accuse some innocent and forswear myself, 
+Set deadly enmity between two friends, 
++Make poor men’s cattle break their necks; 
+Set fire on barns and hay-stacks in the night, 
+And bid the owners quench them with their 
+
+
+tears. 
+
+Oft have I digg’d up dead men from their 
+graves 
+
+And set them upright at their dear friends’ 
+doors, 
+
+Even when their sorrows almost were forgot; 
+
+
+876 
+
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+And on their skins, as on the bark of trees, 
+Have with my knife carved in Roman letters, 
+‘Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead.’ 
+Tut, I have done a thousand dreadful things 
+As willingly as one would kill a fly, 
+And notning grieves me heartily indeed 
+But that I cannot do ten thousand more, 
+Luc. Bring down the devil, for he must 
+not die 
+So sweet a death as hanging presently. 
+Aar. \f there be devils, would I were a 
+devil, 
+To live and burn in everlasting fire, 
+So I might have your company in hell, 
+But to torment you with my bitter tongue! 150 
+Luc. Sirs, stop* his mouth, and let him 
+speak no more. 
+
+
+Enter a Goth. 
+
+
+Third Goth. My lord, there is a messenger 
+from Rome 
+Desires to be admitted to your presence. 
+Luc. Let him come near. 
+
+
+Enter FEMILIUs, 
+
+
+Welcome, /Emilius: what's the news from 
+Rome? 
+“Emil. Lord Lucius, and you princes of 
+the Goths, 
+The Roman emperor greets you all by me; 
+And, for he understands you are in arms, 
+He craves a parley at your father’s house. 
+Willing you to demand your hostages, 
+And they shall be immediately deliver'd. 
+First Goth. What says our general? 
+Luc. fEmilius, let the emperor give his 
+pledges 
+Unto my father and my uncle Marcus, 
+And we will come. March away.  [Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene II. Rome. Before Titus’s house. 
+
+
+_Enier Tamora, DEMETRIUS, and CHIRON, 
+disguised, 
+Tam. Thus, in _ this 
+habiliment, 
+I will encounter with Andronicus, 
+And say I am Revenge, sent from below 
+To join with him and right his heinous wrongs. 
+Knock at his study, where, they say, he keeps, 
+To rummage strange plots of dire revenge; 
+Tell him Revenge is come to join with him, 
+And work confusion on his enemies. 
+
+
+[They knock. 
+Enter Trrus, above. 
+
+
+160 
+
+
+and sad 
+
+
+strange 
+
+
+Tit. Who doth molest my contemplation ? 
+Is it your trick to make me ope the door, 10 
+That so my sad decrees may fly away, 
+
+And all my study be to no effect? 
+You are deceived: for what I mean to do 
+
+
+See here in bloody lines I have set down; 
+
+And what is written shall be executed. 
+Tam. Titus, I am come to talk with thee. 
+diet not a word; how can I grace my 
+
+talk, 
+
+Wanting a hand to give it action? 
+
+Thou hast the odds of me; therefore no more. 
+Tam. If thou didst know me, thou wouldst 
+
+
+talk with me, 20 
+Tit. I am not mad; I know thee well 
+enough: 
+
+
+Witness this wrecked stump, witness these 
+crimson lines; 
+Witness these trenches made by grief and 
+care; 
+Witness the tiring day and heavy night; 
+Witness all sorrow, that I know thee well 
+For our proud empress, mighty Tamora: 
+Is not thy coming for my other hand? 
+Tam. Know, thou sad man, I am not 
+Tamora; 
+She is thy enemy, and I thy friend: 
+I am Revenge: sent from the infernal king: 
+dom, 
+To ease the gnawing vulture of thy mind, 3] 
+By working wreakful vengeance on thy foes. 
+Come down, and welcome me to this world’s 
+light; 
+Confer with me of murder and of death: 
+There's not a hollow cave or lurking-place, 
+No vast obscurity or misty vale, 
+Where bloody murder or detested rape 
+Can couch for fear, but I will find them out; 
+And in their ears tell them my dreadful name, 
+Revenge, which makes the foul offender quake. 
+Tit. Art thou Revenge? and art thou sent 
+to me, 4] 
+To be a torment to mine enemies? 
+Tam. I am; therefore come down, and 
+welcome me. 
+Tit. Do me some service, ere I come to 
+
+
+thee. 
+
+Lo, by thy side where Rape and Murder 
+stands; 
+
+Now give me some surance that thou art Re- 
+
+
+venge, 
+
+Stab them, or tear them on thy chariot-wheels; 
+And then I'll come and be thy waggoner, 
+And whirl along with thee about the globe. 
+Provide thee two proper palfreys, black as jet, 
+To hale thy vengeful waggon swift away, 5] 
+And find out murderers in their guilty caves: 
+And when thy car is loaden with their heads, 
+I will dismount and by the waggon-wheel 
+Trot, like a servile footman, all day long, 
+Even from Hyperion’s rising in the east 
+Until his very downfall in the sea: 
+
+And day by day I'll do this heavy task. 
+
+So thov destroy Rapine and Murder ther. 
+
+
+[Acr V, Se, II 
+
+
+(ga Cates iy 
+bre 
+Act V, Sc. I] 
+
+
+Tam. These are my ministers, and come 
+with me, 
+Tit. Are these thy ministers? what are 
+they call'd? 
+Tam. Rapine and Murder; therefore called 
+$0, 
+Cause they take vengeance of such kind of 
+
+
+men. 
+Tit. Good Lord, how like the empress’ 
+
+
+sons they are! 
+And you, the empress! but we worldly men 
+Have miserable, mad, mistaking eyes. 
+O sweet Revenge, now do | come to thee; 
+And, if one arm's embracement will content 
+thee, 
+
+
+- | will embrace thee in it by and by. 
+
+
+[Exit above. 
+Tam. This closing with him fits his lunacy: 
+
+
+A. Whate’er | forge to feed his brain-sick fits, 71 
+
+
+Do you uphold and maintain in your speeches, 
+For now he firmly takes me for Revenge; 
+And, being credulous in this mad thought, 
+
+I'll make him send for Lucius and his son; 
+And, whilst I at the banquet hold him sure, 
+I'll find some cunning practice out of hand, 
+To scatter and disperse the giddy Goths, 
+Or, at least, make them his enemies. 
+
+See, here he comes, and I must ply my theme. 
+
+
+Enter Titus below, 
+
+
+Tit. Long have I been forlorn, and all for 
+
+thee: 8l 
+Welcome, dread Fury, to my woful house: 
+Rapine and Murder, you are welcome too. 
+How like the empress and her sons you are! 
+Well are you fitted, had you but a Moor: 
+
+
+~~ Could not all hell afford you such a devil? 
+
+
+For well I wot the empress never wags 
+
+But in her company there is a Moor; 
+
+And, would you represent our queen aright, 
+
+It were convenient you had such a devil: 
+
+But welcome, as you are. What shall we do? 
+Tam. What wouldst thou have us do, 
+
+
+Andronicus ? 
+
+Dem. Show me a murderer, I ‘Il deal with 
+him, i 
+Chi. Show me a villain that hath done a 
+
+rape, 
+
+
+And | am sent to be revenged on him. 
+Tam. Show me a thousand that have done 
+thee wrong, 
+And fewill be revenged on them all, 
+Tit. Look round about the wicked streets 
+of Rome; 
+And ane thou find’st a man that’s like thy- 
+self, 
+Good Murder, stab him; he 's a murderer. 190 
+Go thou with him; and when it is thy hap 
+To find another that is like to thee, 
+
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+i a 
+
+
+877 
+
+
+Good Rapine, stab him; he’s a ravisher, 
+
+Go thou with them; and in the emperor's 
+court 
+
+There is a queen, attended by a Moor; 
+
+Well may’st thou know her by thy own pro- 
+portion, 
+
+For up and down she doth resemble thee: 
+
+I pray thee, do on them some violent death; 
+
+They have been violent to me and mine. 
+
+Tam. Well hast thou lesson’d us; this 
+
+shall we do. 110 
+
+But would it please thee, good Andronicus, 
+
+To send for Lucius, thy thrice-valiant son, 
+
+Who leads towards Rome a band of warlike 
+Goths, 
+
+And bid him come and banquet at thy house; 
+
+When he is here, even at thy solemn feast, 
+
+I will bring in the empress and her sons, 
+
+The emperor himself and all thy foes; 
+
+And at thy mercy shall they stoop and kneel, 
+
+And on them shalt thou ease thy angry heart. 
+
+What says Andronicus to this device? 120 
+
+Tit. gree my brother! ‘tis sad Titus 
+
+calls. 
+
+
+Enter Marcus, 
+
+
+Go, gentle Marcus, to thy nephew Lucius; 
+Thou shalt inquire him out among the Goths: 
+Bid him repair to me, and bring with him 
+Some of the chiefest princes of the Goths; 
+Bid him encamp his soldiers where they are: 
+Tell him the emperor and the empress too 
+Feast at my house, and he shall feast with 
+them. 
+This do thou for my love; and so let him, 
+As he regards his aged father’s life. 130 
+Marc. This will I do, and soon return 
+again. [Exit. 
+Tam. Now will I hence about thy business, 
+And take my ministers along with me. 
+Tit. Nay, nay, let Rape and Murder stay 
+with me; 
+Or else I ll call my brother back again, 
+And cleave to no revenge but Lucius. 
+Tam. [Aside to her sons] What say you, 
+boys? will you bide with him, 
+Whiles I go tell my lord the emperor 
+How I have govern’d our determined jest ? 
+Yield to his humour, smooth and speak him 
+fair, 140 
+And tarry with him till I turn again. 
+Tit. [Aside] 1 know them all, though they 
+suppose me mad, 
+And will o’erreach them in their own de- 
+vices: 
+A pair of cursed hell-hounds and their dam! 
+Dem. Madam, depart at pleasure; leave us 
+here, 
+
+
+878 
+
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. Il 
+
+
+Tam. Farewell, Andronicus: Revenge now 
+goes 
+To lay a complot to betray thy foes, 
+Tit. 1 know thou dost; and, sweet Re- 
+venge, farewell. [Exit Tamora. 
+Chi. Tell us, old man, how shall we be 
+employ’d? 14 
+Tit, Tut, I have work enough for you to 
+do. 
+Publius, come hither, Caius, and Valentine! 
+
+
+Enter Pusuius and others, 
+
+
+Pub. What is your will? 
+Tit. Know you these two? 
+Pub. The empress’ sons, I take them, Chi- 
+ron and Demetrius. 
+Tit. Fie, Publius, fie! thou art too much 
+deceived; 
+The one is Murder, Rape is the other's name; 
+And therefore bind them, gentle Publius. 
+Caius and Valentine, lay hands on them. 159 
+Oft have you heard me wish for such an hour, 
+And now | find it; therefore bind them sure, 
+And stop their mouths, if they begin to cry. 
+[Exit. 
+Publius, &c., lay hold on Chiron and 
+Demetrius. 
+Chi. Villains, forbear! we are the em- 
+press’ sons. 
+Pub. And therefore do we what we are 
+
+
+commanded, 
+
+Stop close their mouths, let them not speak a 
+word, 
+
+Is he sure bound? look that you bind them 
+fast. 
+
+
+Re-enter Titus, with Lavinia; he bearing a 
+knife, and she a basin, 
+
+
+Tit. Come, come, Lavinia; look, thy foes 
+are bound. 
+Sirs, stop their mouths, let them not speak to 
+
+
+me; 
+But let them hear what fearful words I utter. 
+
+
+O villains, Chiron and Demetrius! 170 
+Here stands the spring whom you have stain’d 
+with mud, 
+
+
+This goodly summer with your winter mix’d. 
+
+You kill’d her husband, and for that vile fault 
+
+Two of her brothers were condemn’d to death, 
+
+My hand cut off and made a merry jest; 
+
+Both her sweet hands, her tongue, and that 
+more dear 
+
+Than hands or tongue, her spotless chastity, 
+
+Inhuman traitors, you constrain'd and forced. 
+
+What would you say, if I should let you 
+speak ? 
+
+Villains, for shame you could not beg for 
+grace. 
+
+Hark, wretches! how I mean to martyr you. 
+
+
+This one hand yet is left to cut your throats, 
+
+Whilst that Lavinia ‘tween her stumps doth 
+hold 
+
+The basin that receives your guilty blood. 
+
+You know your mother means to feast with 
+
+
+me, 
+9| And calls herself Revenge, and thinks me 
+
+
+mad: 
+
+Hark, villains! I will grind your bones to dust 
+
+And with your blood and it I ‘ll make a paste, 
+
+And of paste a coffin I will rear 189 
+
+And make two pasties of your shameful heads, 
+
+And bid that strumpet, your unhallow'd dam 
+
+Like to the earth swallow her own increase. 
+
+This is the feast that | have bid her to, 
+
+And this the banquet she shall surfeit on; 
+
+For worse than Philomel you used my daugh~ 
+ter, 
+
+And worse than Progne I will be revenged: 
+
+And now prepare your throats. Lavinia, 
+come, [He cuts their throats. 
+
+Receive the blood: and when that they are 
+dead, 
+
+Let me go grind their bones to powder small 
+
+And with this hateful liquor temper it; 200 
+
+And in that paste let their vile heads be baked. 
+
+Come, come, be every one officious 
+
+To make this banquet; which I wish may 
+prove 
+
+More stern and bloody than the Centaurs” 
+feast. 
+
+So, now bring them in, for I "ll play the cook, 
+
+And see theth ready ‘gainst their mother 
+comes. [Excunt, bearing the dead bodies. 
+
+
+Scene III. Court of Titus’ house. A ban- 
+quel set oul, 
+Enter Lucius, Marcus, and Goths, with 
+AARON prisoner, 
+Luc. Uncle Marcus, since it is my father’s 
+mind 
+That I repair to Rome, I am content. 
+First Goth. And ours with thine, befall 
+what fortune will. 
+Luc. Good uncle, take you in this barbar- 
+ous Moor, 
+This ravenous tiger, this accursed devil; 
+Let him receive no sustenance, fetter him, 
+Till he be brought unto the empress’ face, 
+For testimony of her foul proceedings: 
+And see the ambush of our friends be strong; 
+I fear the emperor means no good to us. 10 
+Aar. Some devil whisper curses in mine 
+ear, 
+And prompt me, that my tongue may utter 
+forth 
+The venomous malice of my swelling heart! 
+Luc. Away, inhuman dog! unhallow'd 
+slave! 
+
+
+Act V, Sc, Ill] 
+
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+879 
+
+
+eee eee eee —————— OOOO 
+
+
+Sirs, help our uncle to convey him in, 
+[Exeunt Goths, with Aaron. Flourish 
+within. 
+The trumpets show the emperor is at hand. 
+Enter SaturRNINUS and Tamora, with 
+FEuius, Tribunes, Senators, and others. 
+
+
+Sat. What, hath the firmament more suns 
+
+
+than one? 
+Luc. What boots it thee to call thyself a 
+sun? 
+Marc. Rome’s emperor, and nephew, break 
+the parle; 
+These quarrels must be quietly debated. 20 
+The feast is ready, which the careful Titus 
+Hath ordain'd to an honourable end. 
+For peace, for love, for league, and good to 
+Rome: 
+
+
+~ Please you, therefore, draw nigh, and take 
+
+
+your places. 
+Sat. Marcus, we will. 
+[Hautboys sound. The Company sit 
+down at table. 
+
+
+Enter Tirus dressed like a Cook, LAvINIA 
+veiled, young Lucius, and others. Titus 
+places the dishes on the table. 
+
+
+Tit. Welcome, my gracious lord; welcome, 
+dread queen; 
+Welcome, ye warlike Goths; welcome Lu- 
+
+
+clus; 
+And welcome, all: although the cheer be poor, 
+*Twill fill your stomachs; please you eat of it. 
+‘Sat. Why art thou thus attired, Andron- 
+icus ? 
+Tit. Because I would be sure to have all 
+well, 
+To entertain your highness and your empress. 
+Tam. We are beholding to you, good 
+Andronicus. 
+Tit. An if your highness knew my heart, 
+you were, 
+My lord the emperor, resolve me this: 
+Was it well done of rash Virginius 
+To slay his daughter with his own right hand, 
+Because she was enforced, stain’d, and de- 
+flower'd? 
+Sat. It was, Andronicus. 
+Tit. Your reason, mighty lord? 40 
+Sat. Because the girl should not survive her 
+shame, 
+And by her presence still renew his sorrows. 
+Tit. ie reason mighty, strong, and effect- 
+ual; 
+A pattern, precedent, and lively warrant, 
+For me, most wretched, to perform the like. 
+Die, die, Lavinia, and thy shame with thee; 
+[Kills Lavinia, 
+And, with thy shame, thy father’s sorrow die! 
+
+
+Sat. What hast thou done, unnatural and 
+unkind ? 
+Tit. Kill'd her, for whom my tears have 
+made me blind. 
+I am as woful as Virginius was, 50 
+And have a thousand times more cause than he 
+To do this outrage: and it now is done. 
+Sat, What, was she ravish'd? tell who did 
+the deed. 
+Tit. Will'’t please you eat? will’t please 
+your highness feed > 
+Tam. Why hast thou slain thine only 
+daughter thus > 
+Tit. Not 1; ‘twas Chiron and Demetrius: 
+They ravish'd her, and cut away her tongue: 
+And they, ‘twas they, that did her all this 
+wrong, 
+Sat. Go fetch them hither to us presently. 
+Tit. Why, there they are both, baked in 
+that pie; 60 
+Whereof their mother daintily hath fed, 
+Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred, 
+Tis true, ‘tis true; witness my knife’s sharp 
+point. [Kills Tamora. 
+Sat. Die, frantic wretch, for this accursed 
+deed! [Kills Titus. 
+Luc. Can the son's eye behold his father 
+bleed? 
+There ’s meed for meed, death for a deadly 
+deed, [Kills Saturninus. A great tumult. 
+Lucius, Marcus, and others go up 
+into the balcony. 
+Marc. You sad-faced men, people and 
+sons of Rome, 
+By uproar sever'd, like a flight of fowl 
+Scatter’d by winds and high tempestuous gusts, 
+O, let me teach you how to knit again 70 
+This scatter’d corn into one mutual sheaf, 
+These broken limbs again into one body; 
+Lest Rome herself be bane unto herself, 
+And she whom mighty kingdoms court’sy to, 
+Like a forlorn and desperate castaway, 
+Do shameful execution on herself. 
+But if my frosty signs and chaps of age, 
+Grave witnesses of true experience, 
+Cannot induce you to attend my words, 
+[To Lucius] Speak. Rome's dear friend, as 
+erst our ancestor, 80 
+When with his solemn tongue he did discourse 
+To love-sick Dido's sad attending ear 
+The story of that baleful burning night 
+When subtle Greeks surprised King Priam’s 
+Troy, 
+Tell us what Simon hath bewitch’d our ears, 
+Or who hath brought the fatal engine in 
+That gives our Troy, our Rome, the civil 
+wound, 
+My heart is not compact of flint nor steel; 
+Nor can I utter all our bitter grief, 
+
+
+880 
+
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc, III 
+
+
+But floods of tears will drown my oratory, 90 | And make a mutual closure of our house, 
+
+
+And break my ulterance, even in the time 
+
+When it should meye you to attend me most, 
+
+Lending your kind commiseration. 
+
+Here is a captain, let him tell the tale; 
+
+Your hearts will throb and weep to hear him 
+speak, 
+
+Luc. Then, noble auditory, be it known to 
+
+you, 
+
+That cursed Chiron and Demetrius 
+
+Were they that murdered our emperor's bro- 
+ther; 
+
+And they it were that ravished our sister: 99 
+
+For their fell faults our brothers were be- 
+headed; 
+
+Our father’s tears despised, and basely coz- 
+
+
+en 
+Of that true hand that fought Rome’s quarrel 
+out, 
+And sent her enemies unto the grave. 
+Lastly, myself unkindly banished, 
+The gates shut on me, and turn’d weeping out, 
+To beg relief among Rome's enemies; 
+Who drown’d their enmity in my true tears, 
+And oped their arms to embrace me as a 
+friend. 
+I am the turned forth, be it known to you, 109 
+That have preserved her welfare in my blood; 
+And from her bosom took the enemy's point, 
+Sheathing the steel in my adventurous body. 
+Alas, you know I am no vaunter, I; 
+My scars can witness, dumb although they are, 
+That my report is just and full of truth. 
+But, soft! methinks I do digress too much, 
+Citing my worthless praise: O, pardon me; 
+For when no friends are by, men praise them- 
+selves. 
+Marc. Now is my turn to speak. Behold 
+this child: 
+[Pointing to the child in the arms of an 
+Attendant. 
+Of this was Tamora delivered; 120 
+The issue of an irreligious Moor, 
+Chief architect and plotter of these woes: 
+The villain is alive in Titus’ house, 
+7And as he is, to witness this is true, 
+Now judge what cause had Titus to revenge 
+These wrongs, unspeakable, past patience, 
+Or more than any living man could bear. 
+Now you have heard the truth, what say you, 
+Romans? 
+Have we done aught amiss,—show us wherein, 
+And, from the place where you behold us 
+now, 
+The poor remainder of Andronici 131 
+
+
+Will, hand in hand, all headlong cast us 
+down, 
+
+And on the ragged stones beat forth our 
+brains, 
+
+
+rea heer a speak; and if you say we 
+
+all, 
+
+Lo, hand in hand, Lucius and I will fall. 
+ZEmil, Come, come, thou reverend man of 
+
+Rome, 
+
+And bring our emperor gently in thy hand, 
+
+Lucius our emperor; for well I know 
+
+The common voice do cry it shall be so. 140 
+
+
+All, Lucius, all hail, Rome’s royal em- 
+peror! 
+
+Marc. Go, go into old Titus’ sorrowful 
+house, [To Attendants, 
+
+
+And hither hale that misbelieving Moor, 
+
+
+To be adjudged some direful slaughtering . 
+
+
+death, 
+As punishment for his most wicked life. 
+[Exeunt Alitendants. | 
+Lucius, Marcus, and the others descend. 
+
+
+All. Lucius, all hail, Rome’s gracious gov- 
+
+
+ernor! 
+Luc. Thanks, gentle Romans: may I gov- 
+ern so, 
+To heal Rome’s harms, and wipe away her 
+woe! 
+
+
+But, gentle people, give me aim awhile, 
+For nature puts me to a heavy task: 150 
+Stand all aloof: but, uncle, draw you near, 
+To shed obsequious tears upon this trunk. 
+O, take this warm kiss on thy pale cold lips, 
+[Kissing Titus. 
+bate dovniveri drops upon thy blood-stained 
+ace, 
+The last true duties of thy noble son! 
+ee Tear for tear, and loving kiss for 
+iss, 
+Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips: 
+O, were the sum of these that I should pay 
+Countless and infinite, yet would I pay them! 
+Luc. Come hither, boy; come, come, and 
+learn of us 160 
+To mie in showers: thy grandsire loved thee 
+well: 
+Many a time he danced thee on his knee, 
+Sung thee asleep, his loving breast thy pillow; 
+Many a matter hath he told to thee, 
+Meet and agreeing with thine infancy; 
+In that respect, then, like a loving child, 
+Shed yet some small drops from thy tender 
+spring, 
+Because kind nature doth require it so: 
+Friends should associate friends in grief and 
+woe: 169 
+Bid him farewell; commit him to the grave; 
+Do him that kindness, and take leave of him. 
+Young Luc. O grandsire, grandsire! even 
+with all my heart 
+
+
+——_ 
+
+
+ Goapea oe yeaa 
+; ee 
+
+
+Per Vise tt) 
+
+
+| Would I were dead, so you did live again! 
+~ O Lord, I cannot speak to him for weeping; 
+. My tears will choke me, if I ope my mouth. 
+
+
+Re-enter Attendants with AARON. 
+4m. You sad Andronici, have done with 
+
+
+woes: 
+Give sentence on this execrable wretch, 
+That hath been breeder of these dire events. 
+
+
+Luc. Set him breast-deep in earth, and 
+
+
+famish him; 
+
+There let him stand, and rave, and cry for 
+food: 
+
+If any one relieves or pities him, 
+
+For the offence he dies. This is our doom: 
+
+Some stay to see him fasten’d in the earth. 
+
+Aar. O, why should wrath be mute, and 
+
+fury dumb ? 
+
+
+Lam no baby, I, that with base prayers 
+
+
+I should repent the evils I have done: 
+
+
+TITUS ANDRONICUS 
+
+
+881 
+
+
+Ten thousand worse than ever yet I did 
+
+Would I perform, if | might have my will: 
+
+If one good deed in all my life I did, 
+
+I do repent it from my very soul. 190 
+Luc. Some loving friends convey the em- 
+
+peror hence, 
+
+And give him burial in his father’s graves 
+
+My father and Lavinia shall forthwith 
+
+Be closed in our household’s monument. 
+
+As for that heinous tiger, Tamora, 
+
+No funeral rite, nor man in mourning weeds, 
+
+No mournful bell shall ring her burial: 
+
+But throw her forth to beasts and birds of 
+
+
+prey: 
+Her life was beast-like, and devoid of ‘pity; 
+And, being so, shall have like want of pity. 200 
+See justice done on Aaron, that damn’d Moor, 
+By whom our heavy haps had their beginning: 
+Then, afterwards, to order well the state, 
+That like events may ne’er it ruinate. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONZE 
+
+
+EscaLus, prince of Verona. 
+
+Paris, a young nobleman, kinsman to 
+the prince. 
+
+MontacuE } heads of two houses at va- 
+
+CAPULET, t riance with each other. 
+
+An o!d man, cousin to Capulet. 
+
+Romeo, son to Montague. 
+
+Mercutio, kinsman to the prince, and 
+friend to Romeo. 
+
+BENVOLIO, nephew to Montague, and 
+friend to Romeo. 
+
+TyBaLT, nephew to Lady Capulet. 
+
+Friar LAURENCE, 
+
+Friar JOHN, 
+
+BaLTHasaR, servant to Romeo. 
+
+Sampson, ? 
+
+Grecory, § 
+
+
+PROLOGUE. 
+Two households, both alike in dignity, 
+
+
+In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, 
+From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, 
+Where civil blood makes civil hands un- 
+clean. 
+From forth the fatal loins of these two foes 
+A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their 
+life; 
+Whose misadventured piteous overthrows 
+Do with their death bury their parents’ 
+strife. 
+The fearful passage of their death-mark’d 
+love, 
+And the continuance of their parents’ rage, 
+Which, but their children’s end, nought 
+could remove, 11 
+Is now the two hours’ traffic of our stage; 
+The which if you with patient ears attend, 
+What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to 
+mend, 
+
+
+t Franciscans. 
+
+
+servants to Capulet. 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+
+
+Scene I. Verona. A public place. 
+Enter SAMPSON and Grecory, of the house 
+of Capulet, armed with swords and buck- 
+lers. 
+Sam. Gregory, o° my word, we'll not 
+carry coals, 
+
+
+PETER, servant to Juliet’s nurse. 
+ABRAHAM, servant to Montague. 
+An Apothecary, 
+Three Musicians. 
+
+
+Page to Paris; another Page; an OOee 
+
+
+Lapy Monrtacue, wife to Montague. | 
+Lapy CAPULET, wife to Capulet. 
+Juwtet, daughter to Capulet. 
+Nurse to Juliet. 
+Citizens of Verona; several Men and Wom. 
+en, relations to both houses; Maskers, 
+
+
+Guards, Watchmen, and Attendants. 
+Chorus. 
+
+
+ScENE: Verona: Mantua. 
+Gre. 
+Sam, 
+
+draw. 
+
+Gre. Ay, while you live, draw your neck 
+out o’ the collar. 
+
+Sam. I striké quickly, being moved. 
+
+Gre. But thou art not quickly moved to 
+strike. 
+
+Sam. A dog of the house of Montague 
+moves me. 10 
+
+Gre. To move is to stir; and to be valiant 
+is to stand: therefore, if thou art moved, thou 
+runn’st away. 
+
+Sam. A dog of that house shall move me 
+to stand: I will take the wall of any man or 
+maid of Montague’s. 
+
+Cre. That shows thee a weak slave; for 
+the weakest goes to the wall. 
+
+Sam. True; and therefore women, being 
+the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall: 
+therefore I will push Montague’s men from 
+the wall, and thrust his maids to the wall. 
+
+Gre. The quarrel is between our masters 
+and us their men. 
+
+Sam. "Tis all one, I will show myself a 
+tyrant: when I have fought with the men, I 
+will be cruel with the maids, and cut off their 
+heads, 
+
+Gre. The heads of the maids? 29 
+
+Sam. Ay, the heads of the maids, or their 
+
+
+maidenheads: take it in what sense thou wilt 
+
+
+No, for then we should be colliers. 
+I mean, an we be in choler, we'll 
+
+
+882 
+
+
+‘Act I, Sc. I] 
+
+
+Gre. They must take it in sense that feel 
+it, 
+
+Sam. Me they shall feel while I am able 
+to stand: and ‘tis known | am a pretty piece 
+of flesh. 
+
+Gre. ‘Tis well thou art not fish; if thou 
+hadst, thou hadst been poor John. Draw thy 
+tool; here comes two of the house of the 
+Montagues. 
+
+Sam. My naked weapon is out: 
+will back thee. 
+
+Gre. How! tum thy back and run? 
+
+Sam. Fear me not. 
+
+Gre. No, marry; I fear thee! 
+
+Sam. Let us take the law of our sides; let 
+them begin. ; 
+
+Gre. I will frown as I pass by, and let 
+them take it as they list. 
+
+Sam. Nay, as they dare. I will bite my 
+thumb at them; which is a disgrace to them, 
+if they bear it. 50 
+
+
+Enter ABRAHAM and BALTHASAR. 
+
+
+Abr. Do you bite your’ thumb at us, sir? 
+Sam. 1 de bite my thumb, sir. 
+Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us,-sir? 
+
+
+quarrel, I 
+40 
+
+
+Sam. [Aside to Gre.] Is the law of our 
+side, if I say ay? 
+
+Gre. No. 
+
+Sam. No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at 
+
+
+you, sir, but I bite my thumb, sir. 
+Gre. Do you quarrel, sir? 
+Abr. Quarrel, sir! no, sir. 60 
+Sam. If you do, sir, I am for you: I 
+serve as good a man as you. 
+
+
+Abr. No better. 
+
+Sam. Well, sir. 
+
+Gre. Say ‘better:’ here comes one of my 
+master’s kinsmen. 
+
+Sam. Yes, better, sir. 
+
+Abr. You lie. 
+
+Sam. Draw, if you be men. Gregory, re- 
+member thy swashing blow. [They fight. 
+
+
+Enter BENVOLIO. 
+Ben. Part, fools! 
+
+
+Put up your swords; you know not what you 
+do. [Beats down their swords. 
+
+
+Enter TYBALT. 
+Tyb. What, art thou drawn among these 
+heartless hinds? 
+Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death. 
+Ben. | do but keep the peace: put up thy 
+sword, 
+Or manage it to part these men with me. 
+Tyb. What, drawn, and talk of peace! I 
+hate the word, 
+As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee: 
+Have to thee, coward! [They fight. 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+ee nn EERE 
+
+
+883 
+
+
+Enter several of both houses, who join the 
+fray; then enter Citizens, with clubs. 
+
+
+First Cit. Clubs, bills, 
+
+strike! beat them down! 
+
+Down with the Capulets! 
+Montagues! 
+
+
+and partisans! 
+
+
+down with the 
+
+
+Enter CaPULET in his gown, and Lapy 
+CAPULET. 
+
+
+Cap. What noise is this? 
+long sword, ho! 
+
+La. Cap. A crutch, a crutch! why call you 
+for a sword? 
+
+Cap. My sword, I say! Old Montague iv 
+come, 
+
+And flourishes his blade in spite of me. 
+Enter MontacurE and Lapy Montacvé. 
+
+
+Mon. Thou villain Capulet——Hold me 
+not, let me go. 
+
+La. Mon. Thou shalt not stir a foot to 
+seek a foe. 
+
+
+Give me my 
+
+
+Enter Prince, with Attendants. 
+Prin. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, 
+Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,— 
+Will they not hear? What, ho! you men 
+you beasts, 90 
+That quench the fire of your pernicious rage 
+With purple fountains issuing from your 
+veins, 
+On pain of torture, from those bloody hands 
+Throw your mistemper’d weapons to the 
+ground, 
+And hear the sentence of your moved prince, 
+Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, 
+By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, 
+Have thrice disturb’d the quiet of our streets, 
+And made Verona’s ancient citizens 
+Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, 100 
+To wield old partisans, in hands as old, 
+Canker’d with peace, to part your canker'd 
+hate: 
+If ever you disturb our streets again, 
+Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. 
+For this time, all the rest depart away: 
+You, Capulet, shall go along with me: 
+And, Montague, come you this afternoon, 
+To know our further pleasure in this case, 
+To old Free-town, our common judgement- 
+place. 
+Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. 
+[Exeunt all but Montague, Lady Mon- 
+tague, and Benvolio. 
+Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new 
+abroach ? 11 
+Speak, nephew, were you by when it began? 
+Ben. Here were the servants of your ad- 
+versary, 
+
+
+884 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. 1 
+
+
+nT 
+
+
+And yours, close fighting ere I did approach: | We would as willingly give cure as know. 
+
+
+I drew to part them: in the instant came 
+
+The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepared, 
+Which, as he breathed defiance to my ears, 
+He swung about his head and cut the winds, 
+Who nothing hurt withal hiss’d him in scorn: 
+While we were inierchanging thrusts and 
+
+
+blows, 
+Came more and more and fought on part and 
+part, 121 
+
+
+Till the prince came, who parted either part. 
+La. Mon. O, where is Romeo? saw you 
+him to-day? 
+Right glad I am he was not at this fray. 
+Ben. Madam, an hour before the wor- 
+shipp’d sun 
+Peer'd forth the golden window of the east, 
+A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad; 
+Where, underneath the grove of sycamore 
+That westward rooteth from the city’s side, 
+So early walking did I see your son: 
+Towards him I made, but he was ware of me 
+And stole into the covert of the wood: 
+J, measuring his affections by my own, 
+That most are busied when they ‘re most alone, 
+Pursued my humour not pursuing his, 
+And gladly shunn’d who gladly fled from me. 
+Mon. Many a morning hath he there been 
+
+
+seen, 
+
+With tears augmenting the fresh morning's 
+dew, 
+
+Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep 
+sighs; 
+
+
+But all so soon as the all-cheering sun 140 
+Should in the furthest east begin to draw 
+The shady curtains from Aurora's bed, 
+Away from light steals home my heavy son, 
+And private in his chamber pens himself, 
+Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out 
+And makes himself an artificial night: 
+Black and portentous must this humour prove, 
+Unless good counsel may the cause remove. 
+Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the 
+cause ? 
+Mon. I neither know it nor can learn of 
+
+
+him. 150 
+Ben. Have you importuned him by any 
+means ? 
+Mon. Both by myself and many other 
+
+
+friends: 
+But he, his own affections’ counsellor, 
+Is to himself—I will not say how true— 
+But to himself so secret and so close, 
+So far from sounding and discovery, 
+As is the bud bit with an envious worm, 
+Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air, 
+Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. 
+Could we but learn from whence his sorrows 
+grow, 160 
+
+
+Enter Romeo, 
+
+
+Ben. See, where he comes: so please you, 
+step aside; 
+
+I'll know his grievance, or be much denied. 
+
+Mon. | would thou wert so happy by thy 
+
+
+stay, 
+To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let's 
+away. [Exeunt Montague and Lady. 
+
+
+Ben. Good morrow, cousin. 
+Rom. Is the day so young? 
+Ben. But new struck nine. 
+Rom. 
+Was that my father. that went hence so fast? 
+Ben. It was. What sadness lengthens 
+Romeo's hours? 
+Rom. Not having that, which, having, 
+makes them short. 170 
+Ben. In love? 
+Rom. Out— 
+Ben. Of love? . 
+Rom. Out of her favour, where I am in 
+love. 
+Ben. Alas, that love, 
+view, 
+Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! 
+Rom. Alas, that love, whose view is 
+muffled still, 
+Should, without eyes, see pathways to his 
+
+
+will! 
+Where shall we dine? What fray 
+Yet, tell me not, for I have heard it all. 180 
+
+
+was here? 
+a much to do with hate, but more with 
+ove. 
+Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate! 
+O any thing, of nothing first create! 
+O heavy lightness! serious vanity! 
+Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms! 
+Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick 
+health! 
+Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! 
+This love feel I, that feel no love in this. 
+Dost thou not laugh? 
+Ben. No, coz, I rather weep. 
+Rom. Good heart, at what? 
+Ben, At thy good heart's oppression. 
+Rom. Why, such is love’s transgression. 
+Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, 
+Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest 
+With more of thine: this love that thou hast 
+
+
+so gentle in_ his 
+
+
+O me! 
+
+
+shown 
+
+Doth add more grief to too much of mine 
+own. 
+
+Love is a smoke raised with the fume of 
+sighs ; 
+
+
+| Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers’ eyes; 
+
+
+Ay me! sad hours seem long. . 
+
+
+the 
+
+
+~ uy 
+
+
+Act I, Se. I) 
+
+
+Being vex’d, a sea nourish’d with lovers’ 
+* tears: 
+What is it else? a madness most discreet, 
+A choking gall and a preserving sweet. 200 
+Farewell, my coz. 
+Ben. Soft! I will go along; 
+An if you leave me so, you do me wrong. 
+Rom. Tut, I have lost myself; I am not 
+here; 
+This is not Romeo, he’s some other where. 
+Ben. Tell me in sadness, who is that you 
+love. 
+Rom. What, shall I groan and tell thee? 
+Ben. Groan! why, no: 
+But sadly tell me who. 
+Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make 
+his will: 
+Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill! 
+In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. 210 
+_ Ben. | aim'd so near, when I supposed 
+you loved. 
+Rom. A right good mark-man! And she’s 
+fair I love. 
+Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soon- 
+est hit. 
+Rom. Well, in that hit you miss: she'll 
+not be hit 
+
+
+- With Cupid's arrow; she hath Dian’s wit; 
+
+
+And, in strong proof of chastity well arm’‘d, 
+
+From love’s weak childish bow she lives un- 
+harm'd. 
+
+She will not stay the siege of loving terms, 
+
+Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes, 
+
+
+Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold: 220, 
+
+
+O, she is rich in beauty, only poor, 
+That when she dies with beauty dies her store. 
+Ben. Then she hath sworn that she will 
+still live chaste? 
+Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes 
+huge waste, 
+For beauty starved with her severity 
+Cuts beauty off from all posterity. 
+She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair, 
+To merit bliss by making me despair: 
+She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow 
+Do I live dead that live to tell it now. 230 
+Ben. Be ruled by me, forget to think of 
+
+
+think. 
+Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes; 
+Examine other beauties. 
+Rom. ‘Tis the way 
+To call hers exquisite, in question more: 
+These happy masks that kiss fair ladies’ 
+brows 
+ane black puts us in mind they hide the 
+air; 
+He that is strucken blind cannot forget 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+ EeEeeE— eer ee 
+
+
+885 
+
+
+The precious treasure of his eyesight lost: 
+
+Show me a mistress that is passing fair, 
+
+What doth her beauty serve, but as a note 24] 
+
+Where I may read who pass'd that passing 
+fair? 
+
+Farewell: thou canst not teach me to forget. 
+
+Ben. 1'll pay that doctrine, or else die in 
+
+debt. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+A street. 
+Enter CapuLet, Paris, and Servant. 
+
+
+Scene II. 
+
+
+Cap. But Montague is bound as well as I, 
+In penalty alike; and ‘tis not hard, | think, 
+For men so old as we to keep the peace. 
+
+Par. Of honourable reckoning are you 
+
+both; 
+And pity "tis you lived at odds so long. 
+But now, my lord, what say you to my suit? 
+
+Cap. But saying o’er what I have said 
+
+before: 
+My child is yet a stranger in the world; 
+She hath not seen the change of fourteen 
+years; 
+Let two more summers wither in their pride, 
+Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. 
+
+Par. Younger than she are happy mothers 
+
+made. 
+
+Cap. And too soon marr’d are those so 
+
+early made, 
+
+The ere hath swallow’d all my hopes but 
+she, 
+
+She is the hopeful lady of my earth: 
+
+But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart, 
+
+My will to her consent is but a part; 
+
+An she agree, within her scope of choice, 
+
+Lies my consent and fair according voice. 
+
+This night I hold an old accustom’d feast, 20 
+
+Whereto I have invited many a guest, 
+
+Such as I love; and you, among the store, 
+
+One more, most welcome, makes my number 
+more. 
+
+At my poor house look to behold this night 
+
+peer stars that make dark heaven 
+light: 
+
+Such comfort as do lusty young men feel 
+
+When well-apparell’d April on the heel 
+
+Of limping winter treads, even such delight 
+
+Among fresh female buds shall you this 
+night 
+
+Inherit at my house; hear all, all see, 30 
+
+And like her most whose merit most shall be: 
+
++ Which on more view, of many mine being 
+one 
+
+May stand in number, though in reckoning 
+none, 
+
+Come, go with me. [To Serv., giving a paper. 
+Go, sirrah, trudge about 
+
+Through fair Verona; find those persons out) 
+
+
+aN 
+
+
+886 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+[Act I, Se. Il 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+Whose names are written there, and to them 
+say, 
+My house and welcome on their pleasure stay. 
+[Exeunt Capulet and Paris. 
+Serv. Find them out whose names are writ- 
+ten here! It is written, that the shoemaker 
+should meddle with his yard, and the tailor 
+with his last, the fisher with his pencil, and the 
+painter with his nets; but I am sent to find 
+those persons whose names are here writ, and 
+can never find what names the writing per- 
+son hath here writ. I must to the learned.— 
+In good time. 
+
+
+Enter BENVOLIO and RoMEo. 
+
+
+Ben. Tut, man, one fire burns out an- 
+other’s burning, 
+One pain is lessen’d by another’s anguish; 
+Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turn- 
+ing; 
+One desperate grief cures with another's 
+languish: 
+Take thou some new infection to thy eye, 50 
+And the rank poison of the old will die. 
+Rom. Your plaintain-leaf is excellent for 
+that. 
+Ben. For what, I pray thee? 
+Rom. For your broken shin. 
+Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad? 
+Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a 
+madman is; 
+Shut up in prison, kept without my food, 
+Whipp'd and tormented and—God-den, good 
+fellow. 
+Serv. God gi’ god-den. 
+you read? 
+Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. 
+Serv. Perhaps you have learned it without 
+book: but, I pray, can you read any thing you 
+see? 
+Rom. Ay, if I know the letters and the 
+language. 
+Serv. Ye say honestly: rest you merry! 
+Rom. Stay, fellow; I can read. [Reads. 
+‘Signior Martino and his wife and daugh- 
+ters; County Anselme and his beauteous sis- 
+ters; the lady widow of Vitruvio; Signior 
+Placentio and his lovely nieces; Mercutio and 
+his brother Valentine; mine uncle Capulet, 
+his wife, and daughters; my fair niece Rosa- 
+line; Livia; Signior Valentio and his cousin 
+Tybalt; Lucio and the lively Helena.’ 
+A fair assembly: whither should they come? 
+Serv. U 
+
+
+I pray, sir, can 
+59 
+
+
+p. 
+
+Rom. Whither? 
+
+Serv. To supper; to our house. 
+
+Rom. Whose house? 
+
+Serv. My master’s. 80 
+
+
+Rom. Indeed, I should have asked you 
+that before. 
+
+Serv. Now I'll tell you without asking: 
+my master is the great rich Capulet; and if 
+you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray, 
+
+
+come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you 
+
+merry! [Exit. 
+
+Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capu- 
+let's 
+
+
+Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lovest, 
+
+With all the admired beauties of Verona: 
+
+Go thither; and, with unattainted eye, 90 
+
+Compare her face with some that I shali 
+show, 
+
+And I will make thee think thy swan a cell 
+
+Rom. When the devout religion of mine 
+
+eye 
+
+Maintains such falsehood. then turn tears 
+
+to fires; 
+EE who often drown’d could never 
+ie, 
+
+Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars! 
+One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun 
+Ne’er saw her match since first the world 
+
+begun. 
+
+Ben, Tut, you saw her fair, none else be- 
+
+ing by, 
+Herself poised with herself in either eye: 100 
+But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd 
+Your lady’s love against some other maid 
+That I will show you shining at this feast, 
+And she shall scant show well that now shows 
+
+
+best. 
+Rom. I'll %o along, no such sight to be 
+shown, 
+But to rejoice in splendour of mine own. 
+
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. A room in Capulet’s house. 
+Enter Lapy CapuLeT and Nurse. 
+
+
+La.Cap. Nurse, where’s my daughter? 
+call her forth to me. 
+Nurse. Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve 
+
+
+year old. 
+
+I bade her come. What, lamb! what, lady- 
+bird! 
+
+God forbid! Where's this girl? What, 
+Juliet! 
+
+
+Enter Juier. 
+
+
+Jul. How now! who calls? 
+Nurse. Your mother. 
+Jul. Madam, I am here, 
+What is your will? 
+La, Cap. This is the matter:—Nurse, give 
+leave awhile, 
+We must talk in secret:—nurse, come back 
+again: 
+
+
+Salted 
+
+
+os Cee a a eer, 
+oA eee ‘ 
+— Act I, Sc. IJ 
+
+
+I Bare, remember'd me, thou’s hear our coun- 
+sel. 
+Thou know’'st my daughter’s of a pretty age. 
+Nurse. Faith, I can tell her age unto an 
+hour. 
+La, Cap. She's not fourteen. 
+Nurse. 1’ll lay fourteen of my teeth,— 
+And yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but 
+four,— 
+She is not fourteen. How long is it now 
+To Lammas-tide? 
+
+
+La. Cap. A forinight and odd days. 
+Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in the 
+year, 
+Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be four- 
+teen. 
+Susan and she—God rest all Christian 
+souls !— 
+
+
+Were of an age: well, Susan is with God; 
+
+
+' She was too good for me; but, as I said, 200 
+
+
+On Lammes-eve at night shall she be four- 
+teen; 
+
+That shall she, marry; I remember it well. 
+
+*Tis since the earthquake now eleven years; 
+
+And she was wean’d,—I never shall forget 
+it,— 
+
+
+Of all the days of the year, upon that day: 
+
+
+~ For I had then laid’ wormwood to my dug, 
+
+
+Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall; 
+
+My lord and you were then at Mantua:— 
+
+Nay, I do bear a brain:—but, as I said, 
+
+When it did taste the wormwood on the 
+nipple 
+
+Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool, 31 
+
+To-see it tetchy and fall out with the dug! 
+
+*Shake’ quoth the dove-house: "twas no need, 
+
+i I trow, : 
+
+To bid me trudge: 
+
+And since that time it is eleven years; 
+
+For then she could stand alone; nay, by the 
+rood, 
+
+She could have run and waddled all about; 
+
+For even the day before, she broke her 
+brow: 
+
+And then my husband—God be with his soul! 
+
+A’ was a merry man—took up the child: 40 
+
+Yea,’ quoth he, ‘dost thou fall upon thy 
+face? 
+
+Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more 
+wit; 
+
+Wilt thou not, Jule?’ and, by my holidame, 
+
+The pretty wretch left crying and said, ‘Ay.’ 
+
+To see, now, how a jest shall come about! 
+
+I warrant, an | should live a thousand years, 
+
+I never should forget it: “Wilt thou not, 
+Jule?’ quoth he; 
+
+‘\nd, pretty fool, it stinted and said ‘Ay.’ 
+
+La. Cap. Enough of this; I pray thee, hold 
+
+thy peace. 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+88). 
+
+
+Nurse. Yes, madam, yet I cannot choose 
+but laugh, 
+To think it should leave crying and say “Ay. 
+And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow 
+A bump as big as a young cockerel’s stone; 
+A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly: 
+‘Yea,’ quoth my husband, ‘fall’st upon thy 
+face? 
+Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest 
+to age; 
+Wilt thou not, Jule’ it stinted and said “Ay. 
+Jul. ae stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, 
+say I, 
+Nurse. Peace, I have done. 
+thee to his grace! 
+Thou wast the prettiest babe that eer I 
+nursed: 
+An I might live to see thee married once, 61 
+I have my wish. 
+La. Cap. Marry, 
+theme 
+I came to talk of, Tell me, daughter Juliet, 
+How stands your disposition to be married? 
+Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of. 
+Nurse. An honour! were not I thine only 
+nurse, 
+
+
+God mark 
+
+
+that ‘marry’ is the very 
+
+
+I would say thou hadst suck’d wisdom from 
+
+
+thy teat. 
+La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now; 
+younger than you, 
+Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, 70 
+Are made already mothers: by my count, ~~” 
+I was your mother much upon these years f 
+That you are now a maid. Thus then in 
+brief : 
+The valiant Paris seeks you for his love. 
+Nurse. A man, young lady! lady, such a 
+man 
+As all the world—why, he’s a man of wax. 
+La. Cap. Verona’s summer hath not such 
+
+
+a flower. 
+
+Nurse, Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very 
+flower. 
+
+La. Cap. What say you? can you love the 
+gentleman? 
+
+
+This night you shall behold him at our feast; 
+
+Read o'er the-volume of young Paris’ face 81 
+
+And find delight writ there with beauty’s pen; 
+
+Examine every married lineament 
+
+And see how one another lends content, 
+
+And what obscured in this fair volume lies 
+
+Find written in the margent of his eyes. 
+
+This precious book of love, this unbound 
+lover, 
+
+To beautify him, only lacks a cover: 
+
+The fish lives in the sea, and tis much pride 
+
+For fair without the fair within to hide: 90 
+
+That book in many’s eyes doth share the 
+zlory, 
+
+
+888 
+
+
+That in gold clasps locks in the golden story; 
+So shall you share all that he doth possess, 
+By having him, making yourself no less. 
+Nurse. No less! nay, bigger; womei 
+grow by men. 
+La. Cap. Speak briefly, can you like of 
+Paris’ love? 
+Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking 
+move: 
+But no more deep will I endart mine eye 
+Than your consent gives strength to make it 
+fly. 
+Enter a Servant. 
+
+
+Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper 
+served up, you called, my young lady asked 
+for, the nurse cursed in the pantry, and every 
+thing in extremity. 1 must hence to wait; I 
+beseech you, follow straight. 
+
+La. Cap. We follow thee. [Exit Servani.] 
+
+Juliet, the county stays. 
+
+Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to hap- 
+
+py days. Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. A street. 
+
+
+Enter Romeo, Mercutio, BENvoLio, with 
+five or six Maskers, Torch-bearers, and 
+others. 
+
+
+Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for 
+our excuse? 
+Or shall we on without apology? 
+Ben. The date is out of such prolixity: 
+We'll have no Cupid hoodwink’d with a 
+scarf, 
+Bearing a Tartar’s painted bow of lath, 
+Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper; 
+Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke 
+After the prompter, for our entrance: 
+But let them measure us by what they will; 
+We'll measure them a measure, and be gone. 
+Rom. Give me a torch: I am not for this 
+ambling; 
+Being but heavy, I will bear the light. 
+Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have 
+you dance. 
+Rom. Not I, believe me: you have dancing 
+shoes 
+With nimble soles: ] have a soul of lead 
+So stakes me to the ground I cannot move. 
+Mer. You are a lover; borrow Cupid's 
+wings, 
+And soar with them above a common bound. 
+Rom. I am too sore enpierced with his 
+shaft 
+To soar with his light feathers, and so 
+bound, 20 
+i cannot bound a pitch above dull woe: 
+Under love’s heavy burden do I sink. 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+[Act I, Sc. IV 
+
+
+x 
+
+
+Mer. And, to sink it in, should you bur- 
+den love; 
+Too great oppression for a tender thing. 
+Rom. Is love a tender thing? it is too 
+rough, 
+Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like 
+thorn. 
+Mer. If love be rough with you, be rough 
+with love; 
+Prick love for pricking, and you beat love 
+
+
+down. 
+Give me a case to put my visage in: 
+A visor for a visor! what care I 
+What curious eye doth quote deformities? 
+Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me. 
+Ben. Come, knock and enter; and no 
+sooner in, 
+But every man betake him to his legs. 
+Rom. A torch for me: let wantons light of 
+heart 
+Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels, 
+For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase; 
+Ill be a candle-holder, and look on. 
+The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done. 
+Mer. Tut, dun’s the mouse, the con- 
+stable’s own word: 40 
+If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the 
+mire 
+Of this sir-reverence 
+stick’st 
+Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho! 
+Rom. Nay, that’s not so. 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+love, wherein thou 
+
+
+Mer. x I mean, sir, in delay 
+We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by 
+
+day. 
+Take our good meaning, for our judgement 
+sits ‘ 
+
+
+Five times in that ere once in our five wits. 
+Rom. And we mean well in going to this 
+
+
+mask; 
+But ‘tis no wit to go. 
+Mer. Why, may one ask? 
+Rom. I dream'd a dream to-night. 
+
+
+Mer. And so did I. 
+Rom. Well, what was yours? 
+Mer. That dreamers often lie. 
+Rom. In bed asleep, while they do dream 
+things true. 
+Mer. O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been 
+with you. 
+She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes 
+In shape no bigger than an agate-stone 
+On the fore-finger of an alderman, 
+Drawn with a team of little atomies 
+Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep; 
+Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners’ 
+legs, 
+The cover of the wings of grasshoppers, 60 
+The traces of the smallest spider’s web, 
+
+
+50 
+
+
+Act I, Sc. V] 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+889 
+
+
+A EEE an nnnnannnannnanEEEEE IIE 
+
+
+The collars of the moonshine’s watery beams, 
+Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film, 
+Her waggoner a small grey-coated gnat, 
+Not half so big as a round little worm 
+Prick’d from the lazy finger of a maid; 
+Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut 
+
+Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, 
+Time out o’ mind the fairies’ coachmakers. 
+And in this state she gallops night by night 70 
+Through lovers’ brains, and then they dream 
+
+
+of love; 
+
+O’er courtiers’ knees, that dream on court’sies 
+straight, 
+
+O'er pseress: fingers, who straight dream on 
+ees, 
+
+O’er ladies’ lips, who straight on kisses 
+dream, 
+
+Which oft the angry Mab with blisters 
+plagues, 
+
+
+Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted 
+are: 
+
+Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier’s nose, 
+
+And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; 
+
+And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig’s 
+tail 
+
+
+Tickling a parson's nose as a’ lies asleep, 80 | 
+
+
+Then dreams he of another benefice: 
+
+Sometime she driveth o’er a soldier's neck, 
+
+And then dreams he of cutting foreign 
+throats, 
+
+Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, 
+
+Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon 
+
+Drums in his ear, at which he starts and 
+
+_ wakes, 
+
+And being thus frighted, swears a prayer or 
+two 
+
+And sleeps again. This is that very Mab 
+
+That plats the manes of horses in the night, 
+
+And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs, 
+
+Which once untangled much misfortune bodes: 
+
+This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, 
+
+That presses them and learns them first to 
+bear, 
+
+Making them women of good carriage: 
+
+This is she— 
+
+Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace! 
+Thou talk’st of nothing. 
+
+Mer. True, I talk of dreams, 
+Which are the children of an idle brain, 
+Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, 
+
+Which is as thin of substance as the air 
+
+And fore inconstant than the wind, who 
+wooes 100 
+
+Even now the frozen bosom of the north, 
+
+And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, 
+
+Turning his face to the dew-dropping south. 
+
+Ben. This wind, you talk of, blows us 
+
+from ourselves; 
+
+Supper is done, and we shall come too late. 
+
+
+Rom. I fear, too early: for my mind mis- 
+gives 
+
+Some consequence yet hanging in the stars 
+Shall bitterly begin his fearful date 
+With this night's revels and expires the term 
+Of a despised life closed in my breast 110 
+By some vile forfeit of untimely death. 
+But He, that hath the steerage of my course, 
+Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen. 
+
+Ben. Strike, drum. [Exeuni, 
+
+
+Scene V. A hall in Capulet's house. 
+
+
+Enter Servingmen, with 
+napkins. 
+
+
+Musicians waiting. 
+
+
+First Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps 
+not to take away? He shift a trencher? he 
+scrape a trencher! 
+
+Sec. Serv. When good manners shall lie al! 
+in one or two men’s hands and they unwashed 
+too, ‘tis a foul thing. 
+
+First Serv. Away with the joint-stools, re- 
+move the court-cupboard, look to the plate. 
+Good thou, save me a piece of marchpane; 
+and, as thou lovest me, let the porter let m 
+Susan Grindstone and Nell. Antony, and 
+Potpan! 
+
+Sec. Serv. Ay, boy, ready. 
+
+First Serv. You are looked for and called 
+for, asked for and sought for, in the great 
+chamber. 
+
+Sec. Serv. We cannot be here and there 
+too. Cheerly, boys; be brisk awhile, and the 
+longer liver take all. 
+
+
+Enter CaPULET, with JULIET and others of 
+his house, meeting the Guests and Maskers. 
+Cap. Welcome, gentlemen! ladies that 
+have their toes 
+Unplagued with corns will have a bout with 
+you. 
+Ah ha, tay mistress! which of you all 20 
+Will now deny to dance? she that makes 
+dainty, 
+She, I'll swear, hath corns; am I come near 
+ye now? 
+Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day 
+That I have worn a visor and could tell 
+A whispering tale in a fair lady’s ear, 
+Such as would please: "tis gone, "tis gone, “tis 
+gone: 
+You are welcome, gentlemen! 
+cians, play. 
+A hall, a hall! give room! and foot it, girls. 
+[Music plays, and they dance. 
+More light, you knaves; and turn the tables 
+up, 
+
+
+Come, musi- 
+
+
+890 
+
+
+And quench the fire, the room is grown too 
+hot. 
+Ah, sirrah, this unlook’d-for sport comes well. 
+Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet; 
+For you and | are past our dancing days: 
+Flow long is 't now since last yourself and I 
+Were in a mask? 
+Sec. Cap. By'r lady, thirty years. 
+Cap. What, man! ‘tis not so much, ‘tis 
+not so much: 
+"Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio, 
+Come pentecost as quickly as it will, 
+Some five and twenty years; and then we 
+mask’'d, 
+
+
+. Sec. Cap. "Tis more, ‘tis more: his son is 
+
+
+elder, sir; 
+His son is thirty. 
+Cap. Will you tell me that? 
+
+
+His son was but a ward two years ago. 
+Rom. [To a Servingman] What lady is 
+that, which doth enrich the hand 
+Of yonder knight? 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+Serv. I know not, sir. 
+Rom. ©, she doth teach the torches to 
+burn bright! 
+It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night 
+Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope’s ear; 
+Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! 
+Se shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, 
+As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. 51 
+The measure done I'll watch her place of 
+stand, 
+And, touching hers, make blessed my rude 
+hand. 
+Did my heart Jove till now? forswear it, 
+sight! 
+For [ ne'er saw true beauty till this night. 
+Tub. This, by his voice, should be a Mon- 
+tague, 
+Fetch me my rapier, boy. What dares the 
+slave 
+Come hither, cover’d with an antic face, 
+To fleer and scorn at our solemnity ? 
+Now, by the stock and honour of my kin, 60 
+To strike him dead I hold it not a sin. 
+Cap. Why, how now, kinsman! wherefore 
+storm you so? 
+Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe, 
+A villain that is hither come in spite, 
+To scorn at owr solemnity this night. 
+
+
+Cap. Young Romeo.is it? 
+
+Tyb. ‘Tis he, that villain Romeo. 
+
+Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him 
+alone; 
+
+
+He bears him like a portly gentleman; 
+And, to say truth, Verona brags of him 
+
+To be a virtuous and well goven'd youth: 70 
+1 would not for the wealth of all the town 
+Here in my house do him disparagement: 
+
+
+Therefore be patient, take no note of him: 
+
+It is my will, the which if thou respect, 
+
+Show a fair presence and put off these 
+frowns, i 
+
+An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast. 
+
+Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest: 
+I'll not endure him. 
+
+Cap. He shall be endured: 
+What, goodman, boy! I say, he shall: go to; 
+Ain I the master here, or you? go to. 80 — 
+You'll not endure him! God shall mend my — 
+
+soul! 
+You'll make a mutiny among my guests! 
+
+
+You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the 
+
+
+man! 
+Tvb. Why, uncle, ‘tis a shame. 
+Cap. Go to, go to; 
+
+
+You are a saucy boy: is 't so, indeed? 
+This trick may chance to scathe you, | know © 
+what: 
+You must contrary me! marry ‘ts time. 
+Well said, my hearts! You are a princox; 
+go: , 
+Be quiet, or—More light, more light! For 
+shame! 
+I'll make you quiet. What, cheerly, my 
+hearts! 90 
+Tyb. Patience perforce with wilful choler 
+meeting 
+Makes my flesh tremble in their different 
+greeting. ' 
+I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall 
+Now seeming sweet convert to bitter gall. 
+d [Exit. 
+Rom. [To Juliet] If I profane with my un- 
+worthiest hand 
+This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: 
+My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand 
+rit smooth that rough touch with a tender 
+iss. 
+Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand — 
+too much, 
+Which mannerly devotion shows in this; 
+For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do 
+touch, 101 
+And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss. 
+Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers 
+> too? 
+Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in 
+prayer. 
+Rom. ©, then, dear saint, let lips do what 
+hands do; 
+They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to 
+despair. 
+Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for 
+prayers’ sake. 
+Rom. Then move not while my prayer's ef- 
+fect I take. 
+
+
+Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged. 
+
+
+ry 
+
+
+4 ié 
+
+
+~ Acr Il, Se. I] 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+_ Jul. Then have my lips the sin that they 
+have took, — 110 
+Rom. Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly 
+
+
+urged! As 
+
+
+Give me my sin again. 
+fal. You kiss by the book,/ 
+
+
+Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word 
+
+
+with you. 
+Rom. What is her mother? 
+Nurse. Marry, bachelor, 
+
+
+Her mother is the lady of the house, 
+
+And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous: 
+
+I nursed her daughter, that you talk’d withal; 
+
+I tell you, he that can lay hold of her 
+
+Shall have the chinks, 
+Rom. Is she a Capulet>? 
+
+O dear account! my life is my foe's debt. 120 
+Ben. Away, be gone; the sport is at the 
+
+
+best. 
+~ Rom. Ay, so I fear; the more is my un- 
+rest. 
+Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be 
+
+
+gone; 
+We have a trifling foolish banquet towards. 
+Is it e’en so? why, then, I thank you all; 
+I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night. 
+More torches here! Come on then, let's to 
+bed. 
+Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late: 
+I'll to my rest. 
+[Exeunt all but Juliet and Nurse. 
+Jul. Come hither, nurse. What is yond 
+gentleman ? 130 
+Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio. 
+Jul. What's he that now is going out of 
+door ? 
+Nurse. Marry, that, I think, be young Pe- 
+_ trucio, 
+Jul. What’s he that follows there, that 
+would not dance? 
+Nurse. 1 know not. 
+Jul. Go, ask his name: if he be married, 
+My grave is like to be my wedding bed. 
+Nurse. His name is Romeo, and a Mon- 
+tague; 
+The only son of your great enemy. 
+Jul. My only love sprung from my only 
+hate! 140 
+Too early seen unknown, and known too 
+late! 
+Prodigious birth of love it is to me, 
+That [*imust love a loathed enemy. 
+Nurse. What's this? what’s this? 
+Jal. A. rhyme I learn’d even now 
+
+
+Of one I danced withal. [One calls within 
+
+
+“Juliet.” 
+
+Nurse. Anon, anon! 
+Come, let’s away; the strangers all are gone. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+AGTiall. 
+PROLOGUE. 
+
+
+Enter Chorus. 
+Chor. Now old desire doth in his death-bed 
+
+
+lie, 
+And young affection gapes to be his heir: 
+That fair for which love groan’d for and 
+would die, 
+With tender Juliet match’d, is now not fair. 
+Now Romeo is beloved and loves again, 
+Alike bewitched by the charm of looks, 
+But to his foe supposed he must complain, 
+And she steal love’s sweet bait from fear- 
+ful hooks: 
+Being held a foe, he may not have access 9 
+To breathe such vows as lovers use to 
+swear; 
+And she as much in love, her means much 
+less 
+To meet her new-beloved any where: 
+But passion lends them power, time means, 
+
+
+to meet, 
+Tempering extremities with extreme sweet. 
+[Exit 
+Scene I. A lane by the wall of Capulet’s 
+
+
+orchard. 
+
+
+Enter RoMEo. 
+
+
+Rom. Can I go forward when my heart ts 
+here? 
+
+Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out. 
+
+[He climbs the wall, and leaps down within it, 
+
+
+Enter BENvoLIO and Mercutio. 
+
+Ben. Romeo! my cousin Romeo! 
+
+Mer. He is wise; 
+And, on my life, hath stol’n him home to bed. 
+
+Ben. He ran this way, and leap'd this 
+
+orchard -vall: 
+Call, good Mercutio. 
+
+Mer. Nay, I'll conjure too. 
+Romeo! humours! madman! passion! lover! 
+Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh: 
+
+Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied; 
+
+Cry but ‘Ay me’ pronounce but ‘love’ and 
+‘dove;’ 10 
+
+Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word, 
+
+One nick-name for her purblind son and heir, 
+
+Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim, 
+
+When King Cophetua loved the beggar-maid! 
+
+He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth 
+not; 
+
+The ape is dead, and I must conjure him. 
+
+I conjure thee by Rosaline’s bright eyes, 
+
+By her high forehead and her scarlet lip, 
+
+
+892 
+
+
+By her fine foot, straight leg and quivering 
+thigh 
+And the demesnes that there adjacent lie, 20 
+That in thy likeness thou appear to us! 
+Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger 
+him. 
+Mer. This cannot anger him: 
+anger him 
+To raise a spirit in his mistress’ circle 
+Of some strange nature, letting it there stand 
+Till she had laid it and conjured it down; 
+That were some spite: my invocation 
+Is fair and honest, and in his mistress’ name 
+I conjure only but to raise up him. 
+Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among 
+these trees, 3 
+To be consorted with the humorous night: 
+Blind is his love and best befits the dark. 
+Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the 
+mark. 
+Now will he sit under a medlar tree, 
+And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit 
+As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone. 
+O, Romeo, that she were, O, that she were 
+An open et cetera, thou a poperin pear! 
+Romeo, good night: I'll to my truckle-bed; 
+This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep: 40 
+Come, shall we go? 
+Ben. Go, then; for ‘tis in vain 
+To seek him here that means not to be found. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+*twould 
+
+
+Scene II. Capulet’s orchard. 
+
+
+Enter RoMEo. 
+
+
+Rom. He jests at scars that never felt a 
+wound, 
+[Juliet appears above at a window. 
+But, soft! what light through yonder window 
+breaks ? 
+It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. 
+Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, 
+Who is already sick and pale with grief, 
+That thou her maid art far more fair than 
+she: 
+Be not her maid, since she is envious; 
+Her vestal livery is but sick and green 
+And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. 
+It is my lady, O, it is my love! 
+O, that she knew she were! 
+She speaks, yet she says nothing: what of 
+that? 
+Her eye discourses; I will answer it. 
+I am too bold, ‘tis not to me she speaks: 
+Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, 
+Having some business, do entreat her eyes 
+To twinkle in their spheres till they return. 
+What if her eyes were there, they in her 
+head? 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+[Acr Il, Sc. I 
+
+
+The brightness of her cheek would shame 
+those stars, 
+As daylight doth a lamp; her 
+heaven 
+Would through the airy region stream so 
+bright 
+That birds would sing and think it were not 
+night. 
+See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! 
+O, that I were a glove upon that hand, 
+That I might touch that cheek! 
+Jul. Ay me! 
+Rom. She speaks: 
+O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art 
+As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, 
+
+
+eyes in 
+
+
+0| As is a winged messenger of heaven 
+
+
+Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes 
+Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him 
+When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds: 
+And sails upon the bosom of the air. 
+Jul. O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou 
+Romeo? 
+Deny thy father and refuse thy name; 
+Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, 
+And I'll no longer be a Capulet. 
+Rom. [Aside] Shall I hear more, or shall 
+I speak at this? 
+
+Jul. ‘Tis but thy name that is my enemy; 
+Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. 
+What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, 
+Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part 
+Belonging to a man, O, be some other 
+
+name! 
+What's in a name? that which we call a 
+rose 
+By any other name would smell as sweet; 
+So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, 
+Retain thy dear perfection which he owes 
+Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, 
+And for that name which is no part of thee 
+Take all myself. 
+
+Rom. I take thee at thy word: 
+Call me but love, and I "ll be new baptized; 
+Henceforth I never will be Romeo. 
+
+Jul. What man art thou that thus be- 
+
+screen'd in night 
+So stumblest on my counsel? 
+
+Rom. By a name 
+I know nct how to tell thee who I am: 
+My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, 
+Because it is an enemy to thee; 
+
+Had | it written, I would tear the word. 
+
+Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hun- 
+
+dred words 
+
+OF that tongue’s utterance, yet I know the 
+sound: 
+
+Art thou not Romeo and a Montague? 60 
+
+Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee 
+
+dislike. 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+| 
+
+
+Act II, Sc. II] 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+893 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+Jul. How camest thou hither, tell me, and|1I should have been more strange, I must 
+
+
+wherefore > 
+
+The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, 
+
+And the place death, considering who thou 
+art, 
+
+If any of my kinsmen find thee here. 
+
+Rom. With love's light wings did I o’er- 
+
+perch these walls; 
+
+For stony limits cannot hold love out, 
+
+
+And what love can do that dares love at-' 
+
+
+tempt; 
+Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me. 
+Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder 
+
+
+i 70 
+Rom. Alack, there lies more peril in thine 
+eye 
+Than twenty of their swords: look thou but 
+sweet, 
+
+
+And I am proof against their enmity. 
+~ Jul. 1 would not for the world they saw 
+
+
+thee here. 
+Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from 
+their sight; 
+And thou but love me, let them find me 
+here: 
+
+
+My life were better ended by their hate, 
+Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love. 
+Jul. By whose direction found’st thou out 
+this place? 
+Rom. By love, who first did prompt me 
+to inquire; 80 
+He lent me counsel and I lent him eyes. 
+I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far 
+As that vast shore wash’d with the farthest 
+sea, 
+I would adventure for such merchandise. 
+Jul. Thou know’st the mask of night is on 
+my face, 
+Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek 
+For that which thou hast heard me speak to- 
+
+
+Fain aoa I dwell on form, fain, fain deny 
+What I have spoke: but farewell compliment! 
+Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 
+
+
+“Ay, 
+And I will take thy word: yet, if thou 
+swear'st, 
+Thou mayst prove false; at lovers’ perjuries, 
+They say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo, 
+If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully: 
+Of if thou think’st I am too quickly won, 
+I'll frown and be perverse and say thee nay, 
+So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world. 
+In truth. fair Montague, I am too fond, 
+And Be ciore thou mayst think my ‘haviour 
+light: 
+But trust me, gentleman, I "ll prove more true 
+Than those that have more cunning to be 
+strange. 101 
+
+
+confess, 
+But that thou overheard’st, ere I was ware, 
+My true love’s passion: therefore pardon me, 
+And not impute this yielding to light love, 
+Which the dark night hath so discovered. 
+Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I 
+swear 
+That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops— 
+Jul. O, swear not by the moon, the incon- 
+stant moon, 
+That monthly changes in her circled orb, 110 
+
+
+Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. Z 
+
+
+Rom. What shall I swear by? 
+
+Jul. Do not swear at all; 
+Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, 
+Which is the god of my idolatry, 
+
+And I'll believe thee. 
+Rom. If my heart’s dear love— 
+Jul. Well, do not swear: although J joy in 
+thee, 
+I have no joy of this contract to-night: 
+It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden; 
+Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be 
+Ere one can say ‘It lightens.’ Sweet, good 
+night! 120 
+This bud of love, by summer's ripening 
+breath, 
+May prove a beauteous flower when next we 
+meet. 
+Good night, good night! as sweet repose and 
+rest 
+Come to thy heart as that within my breast! 
+
+Rom. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied? 
+
+Jul. What satisfaction canst thou have to- 
+
+night? 
+
+Rom. The exchange of thy love's faithful 
+
+vow for mine. 
+
+Jul. 1 gave thee mine before thou didst 
+
+request it: 
+And yet I would it were to give again. 
+
+Rom. Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what 
+
+purpose, love? 130 
+
+Jul. But to be frank, and give it thee 
+
+
+again. 
+And yet I wish but for the thing I have: 
+My bounty is as boundless as the sea, 
+My love as deep; the more I give thee, 
+The more I have, for both are infinite. 
+[Nurse calls within. 
+I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu! 
+Anon, good nurse! Sweet Montague, be true. 
+Stay but a little, I will come again. 
+[Exit, above. 
+
+
+Rom. O blessed, blessed night! I am 
+afeard, 
+Being in night, all this is but a dream, 140 
+
+
+Too flattering-sweet to be substantial. 
+Re-enter JULIET, above. 
+
+
+f 
+
+
+894 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+cp a TT te ee 
+
+
+Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good 
+
+night indeed. 
+
+If that thy bent of love be honourable, 
+
+Thy purpose marriage, send me word 
+morrow, 
+
+By one that I ‘Il procure to come to thee, 
+
+Where and what time thou wilt perform the 
+rite; 
+
+And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay 
+
+And follow thee my lord throughout the 
+
+world. 
+
+Nurse. [Within] Madam! 
+
+Jul. 1 come, anon.—But if thou mean’st 
+
+not well, 150 
+I do beseech thee— 
+
+Nurse. [Within] Madam! 
+
+Jul. By and by, I come:— 
+To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief: 
+To-morrow will I send. 
+
+Rom. So thrive my soul— 
+
+Jul. A thousand times good night! 
+
+[Exil, above. 
+
+Rom. A thousand times the worse, te want 
+
+thy light. 
+
+Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from 
+their books, 
+
+But love from love, toward school with heavy 
+looks. [ Retiring. 
+
+
+- 
+
+
+‘Oo- 
+
+
+Re-enter Just, above, 
+Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist! O, for a falcon- 
+
+
+er’s voice, 
+To lure this tassel-gentle back again! 160 
+Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud; 
+Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies, 
+And make her airy tongue more hoarse than 
+mine, 
+With repetition of my Romeo's name. 
+Rom. It is my soul that calls upon my 
+name: 
+How silver-sweet sound lovers’ tongues by 
+night, 
+Like softest music to attending ears! 
+
+
+Jul, Romeo! 
+
+
+Rom. My dear? 
+
+Jul. At what o'clock to-morrow 
+Shall I send to thee? ‘ 
+
+Rom. At the hour of nine, 
+
+
+Jul. 1 will not fail: ‘tis twenty years till 
+170 
+
+
+then. 
+I have forgot why [ did call thee back. 
+Rom. Let me stand here till thou remem- 
+
+
+ber it. 
+Jul. 1 shall forget, to have thee still stand 
+there, 
+Remembering how I love thy company. 
+Rom. And {''ll still stay, to have thee still 
+forget, 
+Forgetting any other home but this. 
+
+
+Jul. ‘Tis almost morning; I would have 
+thee gone: 
+And yet no further than a wanton’s bird; 
+Who lets it hop a little from her hand, 
+Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, 18) 
+And with a silk thread plucks it back again, 
+So loving-jealous of his liberty. 
+
+Rom. I would I were thy bird. 
+
+Jul. Sweet, so would I: 
+Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. 
+Good night, good night! parting is such sweet 
+
+sorrow, 
+That I shall say good night till it be morrow- 
+[Exit above. 
+Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace 
+in thy breast! 
+Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to 
+rest! 
+Hence will I to my ghostly father’s cell. 
+His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell. 190 
+xil. 
+Scene Il]. Friar Laurence’s cell. 
+Enter Friar LavurENCcE, with a basket. 
+Fri. L. The grey-eyed morn smiles on the 
+frowning night, ° 
+Chenenes the eastern clouds with streaks of 
+light, 
+And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels 
+From forth day's path and Titan's fiery 
+wheels: 
+Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye, 
+The day to cheer and night’s dank dew to 
+
+
+ry, 
+
+I must up-fill this osier cage of ours 
+
+With baleful weeds and_ precious-juiced 
+flowers. 
+
+The earth that’s nature's mother is her tomb; 
+
+What is her burying grave that is her womb, 
+
+And from her womb children of divers kind 
+
+We sucking on her natural bosom find, 
+
+Many for many virtues excellent, 
+
+None but for some and yet all different, 
+
+O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies 
+
+In herbs, plants, stones, and their true quali- 
+ties: 
+
+For nought so vile that on the earth doth live 
+
+But to the earth some special good doth give, 
+
+Nor aught so good but strain’d from that fair 
+use 
+
+Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse: 
+
+Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied; 
+
+And vice sometimes by action dignified. 
+
+Within the infant rind of this small flower 
+
+Poison hath residence and medicine power: 
+
+For this, being smelt, with that part cheers 
+each part; 
+
+Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart. 
+
+Two such opposed kings encamp them still 
+
+
+[Acr II, Sc. I 
+
+
+| 
+
+
+‘Aer il, Sc. IV] 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+895 
+
+
+In man as well as herbs, grace and rude will; 
+And where the worser is predominant, 
+Full soon the canker death eats up that plant. 
+
+
+Enter Romeo. 
+
+
+Rom. Good morrow, father. 
+
+Fri. L. Benedicite! 3] 
+What early tongue so sweet saluteth me? 
+Young son, it argues a distemper’d head 
+So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed: 
+Care keeps his watch in every old man’s eye, 
+And where care lodges, sleep will never lie; 
+But where unbruised youth with unstuff’d 
+
+. brain 
+Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth 
+
+reign: 
+Therefore thy earliness doth me assure 
+Thou art up-roused by some distemperature; 
+Or, if not so, then here I hit it right, 
+_Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night. 
+“Rom. That last is true; the sweeter rest 
+
+
+_ Was mine. 
+
+Fri. L. God pardon sin! wast thou with 
+Rosaline? 
+
+Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father ? 
+no; 
+
+
+I have forgot that name, and that name’s woe. 
+Fri. L. That’s my good son: but where 
+hast thou been, then? 
+Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me 
+again. 
+I have been feasting with mine enemy, 
+Where on a sudden one hath wounded me, 50 
+That's by me wounded: both our remedies 
+Within thy help and holy physic lies: 
+I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo, 
+My intercession likewise steads my foe. 
+Fri. Le Be plain, good son, and homely in 
+thy drift; 
+Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift. 
+Rom. Then plainly know my heart’s dear 
+love is set 
+On the fair daughter of rich Capulet: 
+As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine; 
+And all combined, save what thou must com- 
+bine _ 60 
+By holy marriage: when and where and how 
+We met, we woo'd and made exchange of 
+vow, 
+I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray, 
+That thou consent to marry us to-day. 
+Fri. L. Holy Saint Francis, what a change 
+is here! 
+Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear, 
+So soon forsaken? young men’s love then lies 
+Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes. 
+Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine 
+Hath wash’d thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline! 
+
+
+How much salt water thrown away in waste, 
+
+
+To season love, that of it doth not taste! 
+The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears, 
+Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears; 
+Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit 
+Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet: 
+
+If e’er thou wast thyself and these woes thine, 
+Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline: 
+And thou art changed? pronounce this sen- 
+
+
+tence then, 
+Women may fall, when there ’s no strength in 
+
+men. 80 
+
+ve Thou chid’st me oft for loving Rosa- 
+ine. 
+
+Fri.L. For doting, not for loving, pupil 
+mine, 
+
+Rom. And bad'st me bury love. 
+
+Fri. L. Not in a grave, 
+
+
+To lay one in, another out to have. 
+Rom. I pray thee, chide not: she whom I 
+love now = 
+Doth grace for grace and love for love allow; 
+The other did not so. 
+Fri. L. O, she knew well 
+Thy love did not read by rote and could not 
+spell, 
+But come, young waverer, come, go with me, 
+In one respect I'll thy assistant be; 
+For this alliance may so happy prove, 
+To turn your households’ rancour to pure love. 
+Rom. O, let us hence; I stand on sudden 
+haste. 
+Fri.L. Wisely and slow; 
+
+
+that run fast. 
+
+
+they stumble 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. A street. 
+Enter BENyotio and Mercutio. 
+
+
+Mer. Where the devil should this Romeo 
+be? 
+Came he not home to-night? 
+
+Ben. Not to his father’s; I spoke with his 
+
+man. 
+
+Mer. Ah, that same pale hard-hearted 
+
+wench, that Rosaline, 
+Torments him so, that he will sure run mad. 
+
+Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet, 
+Hath sent a letter to his father’s house. 
+
+Mer. A challenge, on my life. 
+
+Ben. Romeo will answer it. 
+
+Mer. Any man that can write may answer 
+
+a letter. 10 
+
+Ben, Nay, he will answer the letter’s mas- 
+ter, how he dares, being dared. 
+
+Mer. Alas, poor Romeo! he is already 
+dead; stabbed with a white wench’s black 
+eye; shot thorough the ear with a love-song; 
+the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind 
+bow-boy’s butt-shaft: and is he aman to en- 
+counter Tybalt? 
+
+
+896 ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+Ben. Why, what is Tybalt? 
+
+Mer. More than prince of cats, I can tell 
+you. O, he is the courageous captain of com- 
+plements. He fights as you sing prick-song, 
+keeps time, distance, and proportion; rests me 
+his minim rest, one, two, and the third in your 
+bosom: the very butcher of a silk button, a 
+duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of the very 
+first house, of the first and second cause: ah, 
+the immortal passado! the punto reverso! the 
+hai! 
+
+Ben, The what? 
+
+Mer. The pox of such antic, lisping, affect- 
+ing fantasticoes; these new tuners of accents! 
+*By Jesu, a very good blade! a very tall man! 
+a very good whore!’ Why, is not this a la- 
+mentable thing, grandsire, that we should be 
+thus afflicted with these strange flies, these 
+fashion-mongers, these perdona-mi's, who stand 
+so much on the new form,-that they cannot 
+sit at ease on the old bench? O, their bones, 
+their bones! 
+
+
+Enter Romeo. 
+
+
+Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Ro- 
+meo. 
+
+Mer. Without his roe, like a dried her- 
+ring: O flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified! 
+Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch 
+flowed in: Laura to his lady was but a kitchen- 
+wench; marry, she had a better love to be- 
+rhyme her; Dido a dowdy; Cleopatra a 
+gipsy; Helen and Hero hildings and harlots; 
+Thisbe a grey eye or so, but not to the pur- 
+pose. Signior Romeo, bon jour! there's a 
+French salutation to your French slop. You 
+gave us the counterfeit fairly last night. 
+
+Rom. Good morrow to you both. What 
+counterfeit did I give you? 50 
+
+Mer. The slip, sir, the slip; can you not 
+conceive > 
+
+Rom. Pardon, good Mercutio, my business 
+Was great; and in such a case as mine a man 
+may strain courtesy. 
+
+Mer. That's as much as to say, such a 
+case as yours constrains a man to bow in the 
+hams. 
+
+Rom. Meaning, to court'sy. 
+
+Mer. Thou hast most kindly hit it. 
+
+Rom. A most courteous exposition. 60 
+
+Mer. Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy. 
+
+Rom. Pink for flower. 
+
+Mer. Right. 
+
+Rom. Why, then is my pump well flow- 
+ered. 
+
+Mer. Well said: follow me this jest now 
+till thou hast worn out thy pump, that when 
+the single sole of it is worn, the jest may 
+remain after the wearing sole singular. 
+
+
+[Acr II, Se. IV 
+
+
+Rom. O single-soled jest, solely singular 
+for the singleness! 70 
+
+Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio; 
+my wits faint. 
+
+Rom. Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; 
+or I'll cry a match. 
+
+Mer. Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose 
+chase, I have done, for thou hast more of the 
+wild-goose in one of thy wits than, I am sure, 
+1 have in my whole five: was I with you there 
+for the goose? 
+
+Rom. Thou wast never with me for any 
+thing when thou wast not there for the goose. 
+
+Mer. I will bite thee by the ear for that 
+jest. 
+
+Rom. Nay, good goose, bite not. 
+
+Mer. Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; 
+it is a most sharp sauce. 
+
+Rom. And is it not well served in to a 
+sweet goose ? 
+
+Mer. O, here's a wit of cheveril, that 
+stretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad! 
+
+Rom. I stretch it out for that word ‘broad;’ 
+which added to the goose, proves thee far and 
+wide a broad goose. 91 
+
+Mer. Why, is not this better now than 
+groaning for love? now art thou sociable, now 
+art thou Romeo; now art thou what thou art, 
+by art as well as by nature: for this drivelling 
+love is like a great natural, that runs lolling up 
+and down to hide his bauble in a hole. 
+
+Ben. Stop there, stop there. 
+
+Mer. Thou desirest me to stop in my tale 
+against the hair. « | 
+
+Ben. Thou wouldst else have made thy 
+tale large. 
+
+Mer. O, thou art deceived; I would have 
+made it short: for I was come to the whole 
+depth of my tale; and meant, indeed, to oc- 
+cupy the argument no longer. 
+
+Rom. Here's goodly gear! 
+
+
+Enter Nurse and PETER. 
+
+
+Mer. A sail, a sail! 
+
+Ben. Two, two; a shirt and a smock. 
+
+Nurse. Peter! 110 
+
+Peter. Anon! 
+
+Nurse. My fan, Peter. 
+
+Mer. Good Peter, to hide her face; for 
+her fan's the fairer face. 
+
+Nurse. God ye good morrow, gentlemen. 
+
+Mer. God ye good den, fair gentlewoman. 
+
+Nurse. Is it good den? 
+
+Mer. ‘Tis no less, I'll tell you, for the 
+bawdy hand of the dial is now upon the prick 
+of noon. 
+
+Nurse. Out upon you! what a man are 
+you! 
+
+
+Act Il; Se, IV] 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+897 
+
+
+Rom. One, gentlewoman, that God hath 
+made for himself to mar. 
+
+Nurse. By my troth, it is well said: ‘for 
+himself to mar,’ quoth a’? Gentlemen, can 
+any of you tell me where I may find the young 
+Romeo? 
+
+Rom. I can tell you; but young Romeo 
+will be older when you have found him than 
+he was when you sought him: I am the 
+youngest of that name, for fault of a worse. 
+
+Nurse. You say well. 130 
+
+Mer. Yea, is the worst well? very well 
+took, i’ faith; wisely, wisely. 
+
+Nurse. If you be he, sir, I desire some con- 
+fidence with you. 
+
+Ben. She will indite him to some supper. 
+
+Mer. A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! So ho! 
+
+Rom. What hast thou found? 
+
+Mer. No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a 
+_ lenten pie, that is something stale and hoar ere 
+it be spent. [Sings. 
+
+An old hare hoar, 141 
+And an old hare hoar, 
+Is very good meat in lent: 
+But a hare that is hoar 
+Is too much for a score, 
+When it hoars ere it be spent. 
+Romeo, will you come to your father’s? we ‘ll 
+to dinner, thither. 
+
+Rom. I will follow you. 
+
+Mer. Farewell, ancient lady; faxewell, 
+[singing] ‘lady, lady, lady.’ 151 
+
+Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio. 
+
+Nurse. Marry, farewell! I pray you, sir, 
+what saucy merchant was this, that was so full 
+of his ropery ? 
+
+Rom. A gentleman, nurse, that loves to 
+hear himself talk, and will speak more in a 
+minute than he will stand to in a month. 
+
+Nurse. An a’ speak any thing against me, 
+I'll take him down, an a’ were lustier than he 
+is, and twenty such Jacks; and if I cannot, 
+I'll find those that shall. Scurvy knave! I 
+am none of his flirt-gills; I am none of his 
+skains-mates. And thou must stand by too, 
+and suffer every knave to use me at his pleas- 
+ure? 
+
+Peter. 1 saw no man use you at his pleas- 
+ure; if I had, my weapon should quickly have 
+been out, I warrant you: I dare draw as soon 
+as another man, if I see ocasion in a good 
+quarrel, and the law on my side. 169 
+
+Nurse. Now, afore God, I am so vexed, 
+that every part about me quivers. Scurvy 
+knave! Pray you, sir, a word: and as I told 
+you, my young lady bade me inquire you out; 
+what she bade me say, I will keep to myself: 
+but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her 
+into a fool’s paradise, as they say, it were a 
+
+
+very gross kind of behaviour, as they say: for 
+the gentlewoman is young; and, therefore, if 
+you should deal double with her, truly it were 
+an ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman, 
+and very weak dealing. 
+
+Rom. Nurse, commend me to thy lady anc 
+mistress. I protest unto thee— 
+
+Nurse. Good heart, and, i’ faith, I will tell 
+her as much: Lord, Lord, she will be a joyful 
+woman, 
+
+Rom. What wilt thou tell her, nurse? thou 
+dost not mark me. 
+
+Nurse. I will tell her, sir, that you do pro- 
+test; which, as I take it, is a gentlemanlike 
+offer. 
+
+Rom. Bid her devise 191 
+Some means to come to shrift this afternoon; 
+And there she shall at Friar Laurence’ cell 
+Be shrived and married. Here is for thy 
+
+pains. 
+
+Nurse. No, truly, sir; not a penny. 
+
+Rom. Go to; I say you shall. 
+
+Nurse. This afternoon, sir? well, she shall 
+be there. 
+
+Rom. And stay, good nurse, behind the 
+
+abbey wall: 199 
+Within this hour my man shall be with thee, 
+And bring thee cords made like a tackled 
+
+stair; 
+Which to the high top-gallant of my joy 
+Must be my convoy in the secret night. 
+Farewell; be trusty, and I ‘Il quit thy pains: 
+Farewell; commend me to thy mistress. 
+
+Nurse. Now God in heaven bless thee! 
+
+Hark, you, sir. 
+
+Rom. What say’st thou, my dear nurse? 
+
+Nurse. Is your man secret? Did you ne'er 
+
+hear say, 
+
+Two may keep counsel, putting one away ? 
+
+Rom. I warrant thee, my man’s as true 
+
+as steel. 210 
+
+Nurse. Well, sir; my mistress is the sweet- 
+est lady—Lord, Lord! when ‘twas a little 
+prating thing:—O, there is a nobleman in 
+town, one Paris, that would fain lay knife 
+aboard; but she, good soul, had as lief see a 
+toad, a very toad, as see him. I anger her 
+sometimes and tell her that Paris is the prop- 
+erer man; but, I ‘ll warrant you, when I say 
+so, she looks as pale as any clout in the versal 
+world. Doth not rosemary and Romeo begin 
+both with a letter> 220 
+
+Rom. Ay, nurse! what of that? both with 
+an R. 
+
+Nurse. Ah, mocker? that’s the dog’s name; 
+R is for the— No; I know it begins with some 
+other letter:—and she hath the prettiest sen- 
+tentious of it, of you and rosemary, that it 
+would do you good to hear it. 
+
+
+898 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+[Acr II, Sc. V 
+
+
+Rom. Commend me to thy lady. | 
+
+Nurse. Ay, a thousand times. [Exit Romeo.] 
+Peter! 230 
+
+Pet. Anon! 
+
+Nurse. Peter, take my fan, and go before, 
+and apace. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene V. Capulet’s orchard, 
+Enter Juuiet, 
+Jul. The clock struck nine when I did send 
+
+
+the nurse; 
+In half an hour she promised to return. 
+Perchance she cannot meet him: that’s not so. 
+©, she is lame! love’s heralds should be 
+thoughts, 
+Which ten times faster glide than the sun’s 
+beams, 
+Driving back shadows over louring hills: 
+Therefore do nimble-pinion’d doves draw love, 
+And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid 
+wings. ‘ 
+Now is the sun upon the highmost hill 
+Of this day’s journey, and from nine till 
+twelve 
+Is three long hours, yet she is not come. 11 
+Had she affections and warm youthful blood, 
+She would be as swift in motion as a ball; 
+My words would bandy her to my sweet love, 
+And his to me: ¢ 
+{But old folks, many feign as they were dead; 
+Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead. 
+O God, she comes! 
+
+
+Enter Nurse and PETER. 
+
+
+O honey nurse, what news? 
+Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away. 
+Nurse. Peter, stay at the gate. [Exit Peter. 
+Jul. Now, good sweet nurse,—O Lord, why 
+look’st thou sad? 21 
+Though the news be sad, yet tell them merrily; 
+If good, thou shamest the music of sweet news 
+By playing it to me with so sour a face. 
+Nurse. I am a-weary, give me leave awhile: 
+Fie, how my bones ache! what a jaunt have 
+I had! 
+Jul. I would thou hadst my bones, and | 
+thy news. 
+Nay, come, I pray thee, speak; good, good 
+nurse, speak. 
+Nurse. Jesu, what haste? can you not stay 
+awhile > 
+Do you not see that I am out of breath? 30 
+ful. How art thou out of breath, when thou 
+hast breath 
+To say to me that'thou art out of breath? 
+The excuse that thou dost make in this delay 
+Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse. 
+Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that; 
+Say either. and I'll stay the circumstance: 
+
+
+Let me be satisfied, ist good or bad? 
+
+Nurse. Well, you have made a simple 
+choice; you know not how to choose a man: 
+Romeo! no, not he; though his face be better 
+than any man’s, yet his leg excels all men’s; 
+and for a hand, and a foot, and a body, 
+though they be not to be talked on, yet they 
+are past compare: he is not the flower of cour- 
+tesy, but I ‘Il warrant him, as gentle as a 
+lamb. Go thy ways, wench; serve God. 
+What, have you dined at home? 
+
+Jul. No, no: but all this did I know be- 
+
+fore. 
+What says he of our marriage? what of that? 
+
+Nurse. Lord, how my head aches! what a 
+
+head have I! 
+It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces. 50 
+My back o’ t’other side,—O, my back, my 
+back! 
+Beshrew your heart for sending me about, 
+To catch my death with jaunting up and 
+down! 
+Jul. I’ faith, I am sorry that thou art not 
+well. 
+Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell. me, what says 
+my love? 
+
+Nurse. Your love says, like an honest gen- 
+tleman, and a courteous, and a kind, and a 
+handsome, and, I warrant, a virtuous,;—Where 
+is your mother ? 
+
+Jul. Where is my mother! why, she is 
+
+within; 60 
+Where should she be? How oddly thou re- 
+pliest! : 
+“Your love says, like an honest gentleman, 
+Where is your mother?’ 
+Nurse. O God's lady dear! 
+Are you so hot? marry, come up, I trow; 
+Is this the poultice for my aching bones? 
+Henceforward do your messages yourself. 
+Jul. Here's such a coil! come, what says 
+Romeo? 
+
+Nurse. Have you got leave to go to shrift 
+
+to-day >? 
+
+Jul. 1 have. 
+
+Nurse. Then hie you hence to Friar Lau- 
+
+rence’ cell; 70 
+There stays a husband to make you a wife: 
+Now comes the wanton blood up in your 
+
+cheeks, 
+They ‘Il be in scarlet straight at any news, 
+Hie you to church; I must another way, 
+To fetch a ladder, by the which your love 
+Must climb a bird’s nest soon when it is dark: 
+I am the drudge and toil in your delight, 
+But you shall bear the burden soon at night. 
+
+
+Go; I'll to dinner; hie you to the cell. 79 
+Jul. Hie to high fortune! Honest nurse, 
+farewell, fExeunt. 
+
+
+| 
+) 
+; 
+
+
+Acr Ill, Se. I] 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+899 
+
+
+Scene VI. Friar Laurence’s cell. 
+Enter Friar LAURENCE and RoMEo. 
+
+
+Fri.L.° So smile the heavens, upon thi- 
+holy act, 
+That after hours with sorrow chide us not! 
+Rom. Amen, amen! but come what sorrow 
+can, 
+It cannot countervail the exchange of joy 
+That one short minute gives me in her sight: 
+Do thou but close our hands with holy words, 
+Then love-devouring death do what he dare; 
+It is enough I may but call her mine. 
+Fri. L. These violent delights have violent 
+ends 
+And in their triumph die, like fire and pow- 
+der, 
+Which as they kiss consume: the sweetest 
+honey | 
+Is ioathsome in his own deliciousness 
+_ And in the taste confounds the appetite: 
+Therefore love moderately; long love doth so; 
+Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. 
+
+
+Enter Juuiet. 
+
+
+Here comes the lady: O, so light a foot 
+
+Will ne’er wear out the everlasting flint: 
+
+A lover may bestride the gossamer 
+
+That idles in the wanton summer air, 
+
+And yet not fall; so light is vanity. 20 
+Jul. Good even to my ghostly confessor. 
+Fri.L. Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, 
+
+for us both. 
+
+Jul. As much to him, else is his thanks too 
+
+much. 
+
+Rom. Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy 
+Be heap’d like mine and that thy skill be more 
+To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath 
+This heighbouse air, and let rich music’s tongue 
+Unfold the imagined happiness that both 
+Receive in either by this dear encounter. 
+
+Jul. Conceit, more rich in matter than in 
+
+words, 30 
+
+Brags of his substance, not of ornament: 
+
+They are but beggars that can count their 
+
+worth; 
+
+But my true love is grown to such excess 
+
+I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth. 
+
+Fri, L. Come, come with me, and we will 
+
+make short work; 
+
+For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone 
+
+Till holy church incorporate two in one. 
+
+
+[Exeunt, 
+a ACT IIl. 
+Scene I. A public place. 
+Enter Mercutio, BENVoLIo, Page and 
+Servants. 
+Ben. I pray thee, good Mercutio, let’s re- 
+
+
+tire: 
+
+
+The day is hot, the Capulets abroad, 
+
+And, if we meet, we shall not escape a braw!: 
+
+For now, these hot days, is the mad blood 
+stirring. 
+
+Mer. Thou art like one of those fellows 
+that when he enters the confines of a tavern 
+claps me his sword upon the table and says 
+‘God send me no need of thee!’ and by the 
+operation of the second cup draws it on the 
+drawer, when indeed there is no need. 10 
+
+Ben. Am I like such a fellow? 
+
+Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack 
+in thy mood as any in Italy, and as soon 
+moved to be moody, and as soon moody to 
+be moved. 
+
+Ben. And what to? 
+
+Mer. Nay, an there were two such, we 
+should have none shorily, for one would ;kil 
+the other. Thou! why, thou wilt quarrel with 
+a man that hath a hair more, or a hair less, im 
+his beard than thou hast: thou wilt quarrel 
+with a man for cracking nuts, having no other 
+reason but because thou hast hazel eyes: what 
+eye but such an eye would spy out such a 
+quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels as 
+an egg is full of meat, and yet thy head hath 
+been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling: 
+thou hast quarrelled with a man for coughing 
+in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog 
+that hath lain asleep in the sun: didst thou 
+not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new 
+doublet before Easter? with another, for ty- 
+ing his new shoes with old riband? and yet 
+thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling! 
+
+Ben. An I were so apt to quarrel as thou 
+art, any man should buy the fee-simple of my 
+life for an hour and a quarter. 
+
+Mer. The fee-simple! O simple! 
+
+Ben. By my head, here come the. Capulets. 
+
+Mer. By my heel, I care not. 
+
+
+Enter Typatt and others. 
+
+
+Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speak to 
+them. 40 
+
+Gentlemen, good den: a word with one ‘of 
+you. 
+
+Mer. And but one word with one of ua 
+couple it with something; make it a word and 
+a blow. 
+
+Tyb. You shall find me apt enough to that, 
+sir, an you will give me occasion. 
+
+Mer. Could you not take some occasion 
+without giving? 
+
+Tyb. Mercutio, thou consort’st with Ro- 
+
+meo,— 
+
+Mer. Consort! what, dost thou make us 
+minstrels? an thou make minstrels of us, look 
+to hear nothing but discords: here ’’s my fiddle- 
+
+
+900 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+[Act Ill, Sc. I 
+
+
+SS — — 
+
+
+stick; here's that shall make you dance.| Hold, Tybalt! good Mercutio! 
+
+
+*Zounds, consort! 
+Ben. We talk here in the public haunt of 
+men: 
+Esther withdraw unto some private place, 
+Awd reason coldly of your grievances, 
+Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us. 
+Mer. Men's eyes were made to look, and 
+let them gaze; 
+I will not budge for no man’s pleasure, I. 
+
+
+Enter Romeo. 
+
+
+Tyb. Well, peace be with you, sir: here 
+comes my man. 
+Mer. But I'll be hang’d, sir, if he wear 
+your livery: 60 
+Marry, go before to field, he'll be your 
+follower; 
+Your worship in that sense may call him 
+‘man.’ 
+Tyb. Romeo, the hate I bear thee can 
+afford 
+No better term than this,—thou art a villain. 
+Rom. Tybalt, the reason that I have to 
+love thee 
+Doth much excuse the appertaining rage 
+To such a greeting: villain am I none; 
+Therefore farewell; I see thou know’st me 
+
+
+not. 
+Tyb. Boy, this shall not excuse the in- 
+juries 25: 
+That thou hast done me; therefore turn and 
+draw. 70 
+
+
+Rom. I do protest, I never injured thee, 
+But love thee better than thou canst devise, 
+Tull thou shalt know the reason of my love: 
+A\od so, good Capulet,—which name I tender 
+As dearly as my own,—hbe satisfied. 
+
+Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submis- 
+
+sion! 
+Alla stoccata carries it away. [Draws. 
+Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk? 
+
+Tyb. What wouldst thou have with me? 79 
+
+Mer. Good king of cats, nothing but one 
+ot your nine lives; that I mean to make bold 
+withal, and, as you shall use me hereafter, 
+dry-beat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck 
+your sword out of his pilcher by the ears? 
+make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere 
+it be out. ; 
+
+Tyb. I am for you. [Drawing. 
+
+Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. 
+
+Mer. Come, sir, your passado. [They fight. 
+
+Rom. Draw, Benvolio; beat down their 
+
+weapons. ; 
+Gentlemen, for shame, forbear ‘this outrage! 
+Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath 91 
+Forbidden bandving in Verona streets: 
+
+
+[Tybalt under Romeo's arm stabs Mercutio, 
+and flies with his followers, 
+Mer. I am hurt. 
+A plague o’ both your houses! I am sped. 
+Is he gone, and hath nothing? 
+
+
+Ben, What, art thou hurt? 
+Mer, Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 
+*tis enough, 
+Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a sur- 
+geon. [Exit Page. 
+
+
+‘Rom. Courage, man; the hurt cannot be 
+
+much. 
+
+Mer. No, ’tis not so deep as a well, nor so 
+wide as a church-door; but ‘tis enough, ‘twill 
+serve: ask me for to-morrow, and you shall 
+find me a grave man. I am peppered, I war- 
+rant, for this world. A plague o' both your 
+houses! "Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat, 
+to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a 
+rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of 
+arithmetic! Why the devil came you between 
+us? I was hurt under your arm. 
+
+Rom. | thought all for the best. 109 
+
+Mer. Help me into some house, Benvolio, 
+Or I shall faint. A plague o' both your 
+
+houses! 
+They have made worms’ meat of me: I have 
+
+
+nu, 
+And soundly too: your houses! 
+[Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio. 
+et This gentleman, the prince's near 
+ally, 
+My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt 
+In my behalf; my reputation stain’d 
+With Tybalt’s slander,—Tybalt, that an hour 
+Hath been my kinsman! O sweet Juliet, 
+Thy beauty hath made me effeminate 
+And in my temper soften’d valour’s steel! 120 
+
+
+Re-enter BENVOLIO. 
+
+
+Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio 's 
+dead! 
+That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds, 
+Which too untimely here did scorn the earth. 
+Rom. This day’s black fate on more days 
+doth depend; 
+This but begins the woe others must end. 
+Ben. Here comes. the furious Tybalt back 
+again. 
+Rom. Alive, in triumph! 
+slain! 
+Away to heaven, respective lenity, 
+And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now! 
+
+
+and Mercutic 
+
+
+Re-enter TYBALT. 
+Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again, 130 
+
+
+That late thou gavest me; for Mercutio’s sou] 
+Is but a little way above our heads, 
+
+
+Act Ill, Sc. II] 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+903 
+
+
+Staying for thine to keep him company: 
+
+Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him. 
+Tyb. Thou, wretched boy, that didst con- 
+
+sort him here, 
+
+Shalt with him hence. 
+
+Rom. This shall determine that. 
+[They fight; Tybalt falls. 
+
+Ben. Romeo, away, be gone! 
+
+The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain. 
+
+
+Stand not amazed: the prince will doom thee. 
+
+
+death, 
+If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away! 
+Rom. O, I am fortune’s fool! 
+Ben. Why dost thou stay? 
+[Exit Romeo. 
+
+
+Enter Citizens, &c. 
+First Cit. Which way ran he that kill’d 
+
+
+Mercutio > 
+Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he? 
+Ben. There lies that Tybalt. 
+First Cit. p, sir, go with me; 
+I charge thee in the prince's name, obey. 
+
+
+140 
+
+
+_ Enter Prince, attended; MontTaGue, CaPu- 
+LET, their Wives, and others. 
+
+
+Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this 
+
+fray? 
+
+Ben. O noble prince, I can discover all 
+The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl: 
+There lies the man, slain by young Romeo, 
+That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio. 
+
+La.Cap. Tybalt, my cousin! O my 
+
+brother’s child! 
+O prince! O cousin! husband! O, the blood 
+is spilt 
+
+
+f my dear kinsman! Prince, as thou art 
+
+
+true, 
+
+For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague. 
+
+O cousin, cousin! 
+
+Prin. Benvolio, who began this bloody 
+fray? 
+Ben. Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo’s 
+
+hand did slay; 
+
+Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink 
+
+How nice the quarrel was, and urged withal . 
+
+Your high displeasure: all this uttered 160 
+
+With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly 
+bow'd, : 
+
+Could not truce with the unruly spleen 
+
+Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts 
+
+With piercing steel at bold Mercutio’s breast, 
+
+Who, all as hot, turns deadly point to point, 
+
+And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats 
+
+Cold death aside, and with the other sends 
+
+It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity 
+
+Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud, 
+
+“Hold, friends! friends, part!’ and, swifter 
+than his tongue, 170 
+
+
+150] I 
+
+
+His agile arm beats down their fatal points. 
+
+And ‘twixt them rushes; underneath whose 
+arm 
+
+An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life 
+
+OF stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled; 
+
+But by and by comes back to Romeo, 
+
+Who had but newly entertain’d revenge, 
+
+And to’t they go like lightning, for, ere I 
+
+Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt 
+
+
+slain, 
+And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly. 
+This is the truth, or let Benvolio die. 180 
+La.Cap. He is a kinsman to the Mon- 
+tague; 
+Affection makes him false; he speaks not true: 
+Some twenty of them fought in this black 
+strife, 
+And all those twenty could but kill one life. 
+I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must 
+give; 
+Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live. 
+Prin. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio; 
+Who now the price of his dear blood doth 
+owe? 
+Mont. Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercv- 
+tio’s friend; 
+His fault concludes but what the law should 
+
+
+end, F968 
+The life of Tybalt. 
+rin. And for that offence 
+Immediately we do exile him hence: 
+have an interest in your hate’s proceeding, 
+My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a- 
+bleeding; 
+But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine 
+That you shall all repent the loss of mine: 
+I will be deaf to pleading and excuses; 
+Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out 
+abuses: 
+Therefore use none: let Romeo hence in haste, 
+Else, when he’s found, that hour is his last. 
+Bear hence this body, and attend our will: 20! 
+Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. Capulet’s orchard. 
+Enter Jutet. 
+
+
+Jul. Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, 
+Towards Phcebus’ lodging: such a waggoner 
+As Phaethon would whip you:to the west, 
+And bring in cloudy night immediately. 
+Spread thy close curtain, love-performmg 
+
+night, 
+That runaways’ eyes may wink, and Romeo 
+Leap to these arms, untalk’d of and unseen. 
+Lovers can see to do their amorous rites 
+By their own beauties; or, if love be blind, 
+It best agrees with night. Come, civil night, 19 
+Thou sober-suited matron, all in black, 
+
+
+902 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+[Acr Ill, Se, II 
+
+
+And learn me how to lose a winning match, 
+Play’d for a pair of stainless maidenhoods: 
+Hood my unmann’d blood, bating mm my 
+cheeks, 
+With a black mantle; till strange love, grown 
+bold, 
+Think true love acted simple modesty. 
+Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day 
+in night; 
+For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night 
+Whiter than new snow on a raven’s back. 
+Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow’d 
+night, 20 
+Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, 
+Take him and cut him out in little stars, 
+And he will make the face of heaven so fine 
+That all the world will be in love with night 
+And pay no worship to the garish sun. 
+©, I have bought the mansion of a love, 
+But not possess’d it, and, though I am sold, 
+Not yet enjoy’d: so tedious is this day 
+As is the night before some festival 
+To an impatient child that hath new robes 30 
+And may not wear them. O, here comes my 
+nurse, 
+And she brings news; and every tongue that 
+speaks 
+But Romeo's name speaks heavenly eloquence. 
+Enter Nurse, with cords. 
+Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou 
+there? the cords ‘ 
+That Romeo did thee fetch? 
+Nurse. Ay, ay, the cords. 
+[Throws them down. 
+
+Jul. Ay me! what news? why dost thou 
+
+wring thy hands? 
+
+Nurse. Ah, well-a-day! he’s dead, he’s 
+
+dead, he's dead! 
+
+We are undone, lady, we are undone! 
+
+Allack the day! he's gone, he’s kill’d, he’s 
+dead! 
+
+Jul. Can heaven be so envious? 
+
+Nurse. Romeo can, 40 
+Though heaven cannot: O Romeo, Romeo! 
+Who ever would have thought it? Romeo! 
+
+ful. What devil art thou, that dost torment 
+
+me thus? 
+This torture should be roar’d in dismal hell. 
+Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but ‘I,’ 
+And that bare vowel ‘I’ shall poison more 
+Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice: 
+fam not I, if there be such an I; 
+‘Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer ‘I.’ 
+tf he be slain, say ‘I’; or if not, no: 
+Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe, 
+
+Nurse. 
+
+mine eyes,— 
+
+
+saw the wound, I saw it with | 
+
+
+God save the mark!—here on his manly 
+breast: 
+A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse; 
+Pale, pale as. ashes, all bedaub’d in blood, 
+All in gore-blood; I swounded at the sight. 
+Jul. O, break, my heart! poor bankrupt, 
+break at once! 
+To prison, eyes, ne'er look on liberty! 
+Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here; 
+And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier! 
+Nurse. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend 
+I had! 
+O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman! 
+That ever I should live to see thee dead! 
+Jul, What storm is this that blows so con- 
+trary ? 
+Is Romeo slaughter’d, and is Tybalt dead? 
+My dear-loved cousin, and my dearer lord? 
+Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general 
+doom! 
+For who is liying if those two are gone? 
+Nurse.. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo ban. 
+ished; ‘ 
+Romeo that kill’d him, he is banished, 70 
+
+Jul. O God! did Romeo’s hand shed Ty- 
+
+balt’s blood ? 
+
+Nurse, It did, it did; alas the day, it did! 
+
+Jul. O serpent heart, hid with a flowering 
+
+face! 
+Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? 
+Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical! 
+Dove-feather’d raven! wolvish-rayening lamb]! 
+Despised substance of divinest show! 
+Just opposite to what thou justly seem’st, 
+A damned saint, an honourable villain! 
+O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell, 
+When thou didst bower the spirit of fiend 
+In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh? 
+Was ever book containing such vile matter | 
+So fairly bound? O, that deceit should dwell 
+In such a gorgeous palace! 
+urse, There's no trust, 
+No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured, 
+All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers. 
+Ah, where’s my man? give me some aqua 
+vitee: 
+These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make 
+me old. 
+Shame come to Romeo! 
+
+Jul. Blister’'d be thy tongue 90 
+For such a wish! he was not born to shame: 
+Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit; 
+
+For “tis a throne where honour may be crown’d 
+Sole monarch of the universal earth. 
+O, what a beast was I to chide at him! 
+
+Nurse. Will you speak well of him that 
+
+kill’d your cousin? 
+
+Jul. Shall I speak ill of him that is my 
+
+husband? 
+
+
+80 
+
+
+Act Ill, Sc. II] 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+903 
+
+
+Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shali smooth 
+thy name, 
+When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled 
+it? 
+But, wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my 
+cousin > 100 
+That villain cousin would have kill’d my 
+husband: 
+Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring ; 
+Your tributary drops belong to woe, 
+Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy. 
+My Ae lives, that Tybalt would have 
+slain; 
+And Tybalt’s dead, that would have slain my 
+husband: 
+All this is comfort; wherefore weep I[ then? 
+Some word there was, worser than Tybalt’s 
+death, 
+That murder'd-me: I would forget it fain; 
+But, O, it presses to my memory, 110 
+Like damned guilty deeds to sinners’ minds: 
+‘Tybalt is dead, and Romeo—banished;’ 
+That ‘banished,’ that one word ‘banished,’ 
+Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt’s 
+; death 
+Was woe enough, if it had ended there: 
+Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship 
+And needly will be rank’d with other griefs, 
+Whe, fgilews not, when she said “Tybalt’s 
+ead, 
+Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both, 119 
+Which modern lamentation might have moved? 
+But with a rearward following Tybalt’s death, 
+‘Romeo is banished,’ to speak that word, 
+Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, 
+All slain, all dead. ‘Romeo is banished!’ 
+There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, 
+In that word’s death; no words can that woe 
+sound, 
+Where is my father, and my mother, nurse? 
+Nurse. Weeping and wailing over Tybalt’s 
+corse: 
+Will you go to them? I will bring you thither. 
+Jul. Wash they his wounds with tears: 
+mine shall be spent, 130 
+When theirs are dry, for Romeo’s banishment. 
+Take up those cords: poor ropes, you are be- 
+guiled, 
+Both you and I; for Romeo is exiled: 
+He made you for a highway to my bed; 
+But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed. 
+Come, cords, come nurse; I'll to my wedding- 
+
+
+ed; 
+And death, not Romeo take my maidenhead! 
+Nurse. Hie to your chamber: Ill find 
+Romeo 
+To comfort you: I wot well where he is. 
+Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night: 
+I'll to him; he is hid at Laurence’ cell. 
+
+
+Jul. O, find him! give this ring to my true 
+night, 
+And bid him come to take his last farewell. 
+[Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene III. Friar Laurence’s cell, 
+Enter Friar LAURENCE, 
+
+
+Fri.L. Romeo, come forth; come forth, 
+thou fearful man: 
+Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts, 
+And thou art wedded to calamity. 
+
+
+Enter Romeo. 
+
+
+Rom. Father, what news! what is the 
+prince’s doom? » 
+What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand, 
+That I yet know not? 
+Erie Too familiar 
+Is my dear son with such sour company: 
+I bring thee tidings of the prince’s doom. 
+Rom. What less than dooms-day is the 
+prince’s doom? 
+Fri.L. A gentler judgement vanish'd from 
+his lips, 10 
+Not body’s death, but body’s banishment. 
+Rom. Ha, banishment! be merciful, say 
+“death;’ 
+For exile hath more terror in his look, 
+Much more than death: do not say ‘banish- 
+ment.’ 
+Fri.L. Hence from Verona art thou ban- 
+ished: 
+Be patient, for the world is broad and wide. 
+Rom, There is no world without Verona 
+walls, 
+But purgatory, torture, hell itself. 
+Hence-banished is banish'd from the world, 
+And world’s exile is death: then banished, 20 
+Is death mis-term’d: calling death banishment, 
+Thou cutt’st my head off with a golden axe, 
+And smilest upon the stroke that murders me, 
+Fri.L. O deadly sin! O rude unthankful- 
+ness! 
+Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind 
+prince, 
+Taking my part, hath rush’d aside the law, 
+And turn’d that black word death to banish- 
+ment: 
+This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not. 
+Rom. ‘Tis torture, and not mercy: heaven 
+is here, 
+Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog 30 
+And little mouse, every unworthy thing, 
+Live here in heaven and may look on her; 
+But Romeo may not: more validity, 
+More honourable state, more courtship lives 
+In carrion-flies than Romeo: they may seize 
+On the white wonder of dear Juliet’s hand 
+
+
+904 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+{Acr III, Sc. Hl 
+
+
+And steal immortal blessing from her lips, 
+
+Who, even in pure and vestal modesty, 
+
+Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin; 
+
+But Romeo may not; he is banished: 
+
+Flies may do this, but I from this must fly : 
+
+They are free men, but I am banished 
+
+And say’st thou yet that exile is not death? 
+
+Hadst thou no poison mix’d, no sharp-ground 
+knife, 
+
+No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so 
+
+
+ean, 
+But ‘banished’ to kill me?—‘banished’? 
+O friar, the damned use that word in hell; 
+Howlings attend it; how hast thou the heart, 
+Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, 
+A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd, 50 
+To mangle me with that word ‘banished’? 
+Fri. L. Thou fond mad man, hear me but 
+speak a word. 
+Rom. O, thou wilt speak again of banish- 
+ment. 
+Fri. L. I'll give thee armour to keep off 
+that word; 
+Adversity’s sweet milk, philosophy, 
+To comfort thee, though thou art banished. 
+Rom. Yet ‘banished’? Hang up philoso- 
+
+
+phy! 
+Unless philosophy can make a Juliet, 
+Displant a town, reverse a prince’s doom, 
+It helps not, it prevails not: talk no more. 50 
+Fri. L. O, then I see that mad men have 
+no ears. 
+Rom. How should they, when that wise 
+men have no eyes? 
+Fri.L. Let me dispute with thee of thy 
+estate. 
+Rom. Thou canst not speak of that thou 
+dost not feel: 
+Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, 
+An hour but married, Tybalt murdered, 
+Doting like me and like me banished, 
+Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou 
+tear thy hair, 
+And fall upon the ground, as I do now, 
+Taking the measure of an unmade grave. 70 
+[Knocking within. 
+Fri. L. Arise; one knocks; good Romeo, 
+hide thyself. 
+Rom. Not I; unless the breath of heart- 
+sick groans, 
+Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes. 
+[ Knocking. 
+Fri. L. Hark, how they knock! Who's 
+there? Romeo, arise; 
+Thou wilt be taken. Stay awhile! Stand up; 
+[Knocking. 
+Run to my study. By and by! God's will, 
+What simpleness is this! 1 come, I come! 
+
+
+[Knocking. 
+
+
+Just in her case! 
+
+
+Who knocks so hard? whence come you? 
+what's your will? 
+Nurse. [Within] Let me come in, and you 
+shall know my errand; 
+I come from Lady Juliet. 
+Brick: Welcome, then. 
+
+
+80 
+Enter Nurse. 
+
+
+Nurse. O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar, 
+Where is my lady’s lord, where's Romeo? 
+
+Fri. L. There on the ground, with his own 
+
+tears made drunk. 
+
+Nurse. O, he is even in my mistress’s case, 
+O woful sympathy! 
+Piteous predicament! Even so lies she, 
+Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blub- 
+
+bering. 
+Stand up, stand up; stand, an you be a man: 
+For Juliet’s sake, for her sake, rise and stand; 
+
+
+Why should you fall into so deep an O? 90 
+
+
+Rom. Nurse! 
+
+Nurse. Ah sir! ah sir! Well, death’s the 
+end of all. 
+
+Rom. Spakest thou of Juliet? how is it 
+with her? 
+
+
+Doth she not think me an old murderer, 
+
+Now I have stain’d the childhood of our joy 
+With blood removed but little from her own? 
+Where is she? and how doth she? and what 
+
+
+says 
+My conceal’d lady to our cancell’d love? 
+Nurse. O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps 
+and weeps; 
+And now falls on her bed; and then starts up, 
+And Tybalt calls; and then on Romeo cries, 
+And then down falis again. 
+Rom. As if that name, 
+Shot from the deadly level of a gun, 
+Did murder her; as the name's cursed hand 
+Murder'd her kinsman. O, tell me, friar, tell 
+me, 
+In what vile part of this anatomy 
+Doth my name lodge? tell me, that I may 
+
+
+sack 
+The hateful mansion. [Drawing his sword, 
+Fri. L. Hold thy desperate hand: 
+
+
+Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art: 
+
+Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote 
+
+The unreasonable fury of a beast: 
+
+Unseemly woman in a seeming man! 
+
+Or ill-beseeming beast in seeming both! 
+
+Thou hast amazed me; by my holy order, 
+
+I thought thy disposition better temper’d. 
+
+Hast a slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thy~ 
+self > 
+
+And slay thy lady too that lives in thee, 
+
+By doing damned hate upon thyself? 
+
+Why rail’st thou on thy birth, the heaven, and 
+earth? 
+
+
+Act Iff, Sc. IV] 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+905 
+
+
+Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three 
+
+
+do meet 120 
+In thee at once; which thou at once wouldst 
+‘ lose. 
+Fie, fie, thou shamest thy shape, thy love, thy 
+wit; 
+
+
+Which like a usurer, abound’st in all, 
+And usest none in that true use indeed 
+Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy 
+wit: 
+Thy noble shape is but a form of wax, 
+Digressing from the valour of a man; 
+_ Thy dear love sworn but hollow perjury, 
+Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to 
+cherish ; 
+Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love, 130 
+Mis-shapen in the conduct of them both, 
+Like powder in a skilless soldier's flask, 
+Is set a-fire by thine own ignorance, 
+And thou dismember’d with thine own de- 
+‘ fence. 
+What, rouse thee, man! thy Juliet is alive, 
+For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead; 
+There art thou happy: Tybalt would kill 
+thee, 
+But thou slew’st Tybalt; there art thou happy 
+too; 
+The law that threaten’d death becomes thy 
+. friend 
+And turns it to exile; there art thou happy: 
+A pack of blessings lights upon thy back; 
+Happiness courts thee in her best array; 
+But, like a misbehaved and-sullen wench, 
+Thou pout’st upon thy fortune and thy love: 
+Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable. 
+Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed, 
+Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her: 
+But look thou stay not the watch be set, 
+For then thou canst not pass to Mantua; 
+Where thou shalt live, till we can find a time 
+To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends, 
+Beg pardon of the prince, and call thee back 
+With twenty hundred thousand times more 
+joy 
+Than thou went’st forth in lamentation. 
+Go before, nurse: commend me to thy lady; 
+And bid her hasten all the house to bed, 
+Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto: 
+Romeo is coming. 
+Nurse. O Lord, I could have stay'd here 
+all the night 
+To hear good counsel: O, what learning is! 
+My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come. 
+Rom. Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to 
+chide. 
+Nurse. Here, sir, a ring she bid me give 
+you, sir: 
+Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late. 
+
+
+(Exit. 
+
+
+eae How well my comfort is revived by 
+this 
+Fri.L. Go hence; good night; and here 
+stands all your state: 
+Either be gone before the watch be set, 
+Or by the break of day disguised from hence: 
+Sojourn in Mantua; I’ll find out your man, 
+
+
+And he shall signify from time to time 170 
+
+Every good hap to you that chances here: 
+
+Give me thy hand; 'tis late: farewell; good 
+night. 
+
+Rom. But that a joy past Joy calls out on 
+
+me, 
+
+It were grief, so brief to part with thee: 
+
+Farewell. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV, A room in Capulet’s house. 
+Enter Caputet, Lapy CapuLet, and Paris, 
+Cap. Things have fall’n out, sir, so un- 
+luckily, 
+That we have had no time to move our daugh- 
+ter; 
+Look you, she loved her kinsman Tybalt 
+dearly, 
+And so did I:—Well, we were born to die. 
+"Tis very late, she ‘Il not come down to-night: 
+I promise you, but for your company, 
+I would have been a-bed an hour ago. 
+Par. These times of woe afford no time to 
+
+
+woo. 
+Madam, good night: commend me to your 
+daughter. 
+La. Cap. I will, and know her mind early 
+
+
+to-morrow; 10 
+To-night she is mew'd up to her heaviness, 
+Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate 
+
+tender 
+
+OF my child’s love: I think she will be ruled 
+
+In all respects by me; nay, more, I doubt it 
+not. 
+
+Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed; 
+
+Acquaint her here of my son Paris’ love; 
+
+
+And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday 
+
+
+next— 
+But, soft! what day is this? 
+Par. Monday, my lord. 
+
+
+Cap. Monday! ha, ha! Well, Wednes- 
+
+day is too soon, 
+
+O' Thursday let it be: o’ Thursday, tell her, 
+
+She shall be married to this noble earl. 
+
+Will you be ready? do you like this haste? 
+
+We'll keep no great ado,—a friend or two; 
+
+For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late, 
+
+It may be thought we held him carelessly, 
+
+Being our kinsman, if we revel much: 
+
+Therefore we'll have some half a dozen 
+friends, 
+
+And _ there an end. But what say you to 
+Thursday ? 
+
+
+906 
+
+
+Par. My lord, I would that Thursday were 
+to-morrow. 
+Cap. Well, get you gone: o° Thursday be 
+it, then. 30 
+Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed, 
+Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day. 
+Farewell, my lord, Light to my chamber, ho! 
+Afore me! it is so very late, 
+That we may call it early by and by. 
+Good night. [Exeunl, 
+
+
+Scene V. Capulet’s orchard. 
+
+
+Enter Romeo and Juutet above, at the 
+window. 
+
+
+Jul. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near 
+day: 
+It was the nightingale, and not the lark, 
+That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear; 
+Nightly she sings on yond pomegranate-tree: 
+Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. 
+Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the 
+morn 
+No nightingale: look, 
+streaks 
+Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: 
+Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day 
+Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. 10 
+i must be gone and live, or stay and die. 
+Jul. te light is not day-light, I know 
+if, 
+It is some meteor that the sun exhales, 
+To be to thee this night a torch-bearer, 
+And light thee on thy way to Mantua: 
+Therefore stay yet: thou need’st not to be 
+gone. 
+Rom. Let me be ta’en, let me be put to 
+death; 
+I am content, so thou wilt have it so. 
+] ll say yon grey is not the morning’s eye, 
+’Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; 20 
+Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat 
+The vaulty heaven so high above our heads: 
+I have more care to stay than will to go: 
+Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so. 
+How is’t, my soul? let’s talk; it is not day. 
+Jul. Vt is, it is: hie hence, be gone, away! 
+It is the lark that sings so out of tune, 
+Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps. 
+Some say the lark makes, sweet division; 
+This doth not so, for she divideth us: 30 
+Some say the lark and loathed toad change 
+eyes; 
+D, now I would they had changed voices too! 
+Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, 
+Hunting thee hence with hunt’s-up to the day. 
+D, now be gone; more light and light it grows. 
+Rom. More light and light; more dark 
+and dark our woes! 
+Enter Nurse, to the chamber. 
+
+
+love, what envious 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+gaan. 
+{Acr III, Sc. V 
+
+
+Nurse. Madam! 
+Jul. Nurse? : 
+Nurse. Your lady mother is coming to your 
+chamber: 
+The day is broke; be wary, look about. [Exit 
+Jul. Then, window, let day in, and let life 
+out. 4] 
+Rom. Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and 
+I'll descend. [He goeth down. 
+Jul. Art thou gone so? love, lord, ay, hus- 
+band, friend! 
+I must hear from thee every day in the hour, 
+For in a minute there are many days: 
+O, by this count I shall be much in years 
+Ere I again behold my Romeo! 
+Rom. Farewell! 
+I will omit no opportunity 
+
+
+That may convey my greetings, love, to thee. hy 
+
+
+Jul. O 
+again? 
+Rom. I doubt it not; and all these woes 
+shall serve 
+For sweet discourses in our time to come. 
+Jul. O God, I have an ill-divining soul! 
+Methinks I see thee, now thou art below, 
+As one dead in the bottom of a tomb; 
+Either my eyesight fails, or thou look’st pale. 
+Rom. And trust me, love, in my eye so 
+do you: < 
+Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu! 
+[Exit. 
+Jul. O fortune, fortune! all men call thee 
+fickle: ‘ 60 
+If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him 
+That is renowh’d for faith? Be fickle, for- 
+tune; 
+For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long, 
+But send him back. 
+La. Cap. [Within] Ho, daughter! are you 
+up? 
+Who is’t that calls? is it my lady 
+mother ? 
+Is she not down so late, or up so early? 
+What unaccustom’d cause procures her 
+
+
+hether? 
+Enter Lapy CAPULET. 
+
+
+La. Cap. Why, how now, Juliet! 
+Madam, I am not well. © 
+
+Cap. Evermore weeping for your 
+cousin’s death? 
+
+What, wilt thou wash him from his grave 
+with tears > 
+
+An a thou couldst, thou couldst not make him 
+ive; 
+
+Therefore, have done: 
+much of love; 
+
+But much of grief shows still some want of 
+wit. 
+
+
+think’st thou we shall ever meet 
+
+
+some grief shows 
+
+
+oy 
+
+
+Act Ill, Sc. V] 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+907 
+
+
+Jul. Yet let me weep for such a feeling 
+loss. 
+La. Cap. So shall you feel the loss, but 
+not the friend 
+Which you weep for. 
+Jul. Feeling so the loss, 
+I cannot choose but ever weep the friend, 
+La. Cap. Well, girl, thou weep’st not so 
+much for his death, 
+As that the villain lives which slaughter’d 
+him. 
+Jul. What villain, madam? 
+La. Cap. That same villain, Romeo. 81 
+Jul. [Aside] Villain and he be many miles 
+asunder.— 
+God pardon him! I do, with all my heart; 
+And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart. 
+La. Cap. That is, because the traitor mur- 
+derer lives. 
+Jul. Ay, madam, from the reach of these 
+_. my hands: 
+Would none but I might venge my cousin's 
+death! 
+
+La. Cap. We will have vengeance for it, 
+fear thou not: 
+Then weep no more. 
+
+Mantua, 
+Where that same banish’d runagate doth live, 
+Shall give him such an unaccustom'd dram, 91 
+That he shall soon keep Tybalt company: 
+And then, I hope, thou wilt be satished, ; 
+Jul. Indeed, I never shall be satisfied  ) 
+With Romeo, till I behold himn—dead— 
+Is my poor heart so for a kinsman vex'd: 
+Madam, if you could find out but a man 
+To bear a poison, I would temper it; 
+That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof, 99 
+Soon sleep in quiet. O, how my heart abhors 
+To hear him named, and cannot come to him, 
+To wreak the love I bore my cousin 
+Upon his body that hath slaughter’d him! 
+La. Cap. Find thou the means, and I'l] 
+find such a man. 
+But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl, 
+_ Jul. And joy comes well in such a needy 
+time: 
+What are they, I beseech your ladyship? 
+La. Cap. Well, well, thou hast a careful 
+father, child; 
+One who, to put thee from thy heaviness, 
+Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy, 110 
+That thou expect’st not nor I look’d not for. 
+Jul. Madam, in happy time, what day is 
+that? 
+La. Cap. Marry, my child, early next 
+Thursday morn, 
+The gallant, young and noble gentleman, 
+The County Paris, at Saint Peter’s Church, 
+Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride. 
+
+
+I'll send to one in 
+
+
+Jul, Now, by Saint Peter's Church and 
+Peter too, 
+He shall not make me there a joyful bride, 
+I wonder at his haste; that I must wed 
+Ere he, that should be husband, comes to 
+woo. 
+I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam, 
+I will not marry yet; and, when | do, I swear, 
+It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate, 
+Rather than Paris, These are news indeed! 
+La. Cap. Here comes your father; tell him 
+so yourself, 
+And see how he will take it at your hands, 
+
+
+Enter CapuLer and Nurse. 
+
+
+Cap. When the sun sets, the air doth driz- 
+zle dew; 
+But for the sunset of my brother’s son 
+It rains downright. 
+How now! a conduit, girl? what, still in. 
+tears? 
+Evermore showering? In one little body 131 
+Thou counterfeit’st a bark, a sea, a wind; 
+For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea, 
+Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy 
+body is, 
+Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy 
+sighs; 
+ho, raging with thy tears, and they with 
+them, 
+Without a sudden calm, will overset 
+Thy tempest-tossed body. How now, wife! 
+Have you deliver'd to her our decree? 
+La. Cap. Ay, sir; but she will none, she 
+gives you thanks, 140 
+I would the fool were married to her grave! 
+Cap. Soft! take me with you, take me 
+with you, wife. 
+How! will she none? doth she not give us 
+thanks ? 
+Is she not proud? doth she not count her blest, 
+Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought 
+So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom ? 
+Jul. Not proud, you have; but thankful, 
+that you have: 
+Proud can I never be of what I hate; 
+But thankful even for hate, that is meant love. 
+Cap. How now, how now, chop-logic! 
+What is this? 150 
+‘Proud,’ and ‘I thank you,’ and ‘I thank you 
+not;” 
+And yet ‘not proud:’ mistress minion, you, 
+Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no 
+prouds, 
+But fettle your fine joints ’gainst Thursday 
+next, 
+To go with Paris to Saint Peter's Church, 
+Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. 
+
+
+908 ROMEO AND JULIET {Acr III, Sc. V 
+
+
+ee ee 
+
+
+Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you | O, sweet my mother, cast-me not away! 200 
+baggage! Delay this marriage for a month, a week; 
+You tallow-face! Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed 
+La. Cap. Fie, fie! what, are you mad? | In that dim monument where Tybalt lies. 
+Jul. Good father, I beseech you on my La. Cap. Talk not to me, for I'll not 
+knees, speak a word: 
+Hear me with patience but to speak a word. | Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. 
+Cap. Hang thee, young baggage! disobe- [ Exit. 
+dient wretch! 161 Jul. O God!—O nurse, how shall this be 
+I tell thee what: get thee to church o’ Thurs- prevented ? 
+My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven; 
+How shall that faith return again to earth, 
+Unless that husband send it me from heaven 
+By leaving earth? comfort me, counsel me. 
+Alack, alack, that heaven should practise 
+stratagems 211 
+Upon so soft a subject as myself! 
+What say’st thou? hast thou not a word of 
+
+
+a ’ 
+
+Or never after look me in the face: 
+Speak not, reply not, do not answer me; 
+My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us 
+
+blest 
+That God had lent us but this only child; 
+But now I see this one is one too much, 
+And that we have a curse in having her: 
+
+
+Out on her, hilding! joy? 
+Nurse. God in heaven bless her! | Some comfort, nurse. 
+
+_ You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so. 170 Nurse. Faith, here it is. 
+Cap. And why, my lady wisdom? hold | Romeo is banish'd; and all the world to 
+
+your tongue, nothing, 
+
+Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go. That he dares ne'er come back to challenge 
+Nurse. I speak no treason. you; 
+Cap. O, God ye god-den. | Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth. 
+Nurse. May not one speak? Then, since the case so stands as now it doth, 
+
+
+Cap. Peace, you mumbling fool! 
+Utter your gravity o'er a gossip’s bowl; 
+For here we need it not. 
+La..Cap. You are too hot. 
+Cap. {God's bread! it makes me mad: 
++Day, night, hour, tide, time, work, play, 
+Alone, in company, still my care hath been 
+To have her match’d: and having now pro- 
+vided 180 
+A gentleman of noble parentage, 
+Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train’d, 
+Stuff'd, as they say, with honourable parts, 
+Proportion’d as one’s thought would wish a 
+man; 
+And then to have a wretched puling fool, 
+A whining mammet, in her fortune’s tender, 
+To answer ‘I ‘Il not wed; I cannot love, 
+I am too young! I pray you, pardon me.’ 
+But, an you will not wed, I'll pardon you: 
+Graze where you will, you shall not house 
+with me: 190 
+Look to’t, think on’t, I do not use to jest. 
+Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise: 
+An you be mine, I ‘Il give you to my friend; 
+An you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in the 
+streets, 
+For, by my soul, I'll ne’er acknowledge thee, 
+Nor what is mine shall never do thee good: 
+Trust to't, bethink you; I'll not be for- 
+sworn. [Exit. 
+Jul. Is there no pity sitting in the clouds, 
+That sees into the bottom of my grief? 
+
+
+I think it best you married with the county. 
+O, he's a lovely gentleman! 220 
+Romeo’s a dishclout to him: an eagle, 
+madam, 
+Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye 
+As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart, 
+I think you are happy in this second match, 
+For it excels Your first: or if it did not, 
+Your first is dead; or ‘“twere as good he 
+were, 
+As living here and you no use of him. 
+Jul. Speakest thou from thy heart? 
+Nurse. And from my soul too; 
+Or else beshrew them both. 
+Jal. Amen! 
+Nurse. What? 
+Jul. Well, thou hast comforted me marvel- 
+
+
+Go in; and tell my lady I am gone, 
+Having displeased my father, to Laurence’ 
+cell, 
+To make confession and to be absolved. 
+Nurse. Marry, I will; and this is wisely 
+done. (Exit. 
+
+
+fiend! 
+
+Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn, 
+
+Or to dispraise my lord with that same 
+tongue 
+
+
+pare 
+So many thousand times? Go. counsellor; 
+
+
+lous much. 230 
+
+
+Jul. Ancient damnation! O most wicked — 
+
+
+Which she hath praised him with above com- | 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. Ij 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+909 
+
+
+Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be 
+twain. 
+I'll to the friar, to know his remedy: 241 
+If all else fail, myself have power to die. 
+[Exit 
+
+
+ACT IV. 
+
+
+Scene |. Friar Laurence’s cell, 
+Enter Frian LAURENCE and Paris. 
+
+
+Fri. L. On Thursday, sir? the time is very 
+short. 
+Par. My father Capulet will have it so; 
+And I am nothing slow to slack his haste. 
+Fri. L. You say you do not know the 
+Jady’s mind: 
+Uneven is the course, I like it not. 
+Par. Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's 
+death, 
+And therefore have I little talk’d of love; 
+
+
+For Venus smiles not in a house of tears. 
+
+
+Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous 
+
+That she doth give her sorrow so much sway, 
+
+And in his wisdom hastes our marriage, 
+
+To stop the inundation of her tears; 
+
+Which, too much minded by herself alone, 
+
+May be put from her by society: 
+
+Now do you know the reason of this haste. 
+
+Fri. L. [Aside] 1 would I knew not why 
+
+it should be slow'd. 
+
+Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my 
+cell. 
+
+
+Enter JUiet. 
+
+
+Par. Happily met, my lady and my wife! 
+
+Jul. That may be, sir, when I may be a 
+wife. 
+
+Par. That may be must be, love, on 
+Thursday next. 20 
+
+Jul. What must be shall be. 
+
+Fri. L. That’s a certain text. 
+
+Par. Come you to make confession to this 
+father > 
+
+Jul. To answer that, I should confess to 
+you. 
+
+Par. Do not deny to him that you love me. 
+
+Jul. 1 will confess to you that I love him. 
+
+Par. So will ye, I am sure, that you love 
+
+
+me. 
+Jul. If I do so, it will be of more price, 
+Being spoke behind your back, than to your 
+face. ‘ 
+Par. Poor soul, thy face is much abused 
+with tears. 
+Jul. The tears have got small victory by 
+that; 30 
+For it was bad enough before their spite. 
+Par. Thou wrong’st it, more than tears, 
+with that report, 
+
+
+‘My lord, we must entreat the time alone. 
+
+
+Jul. That is no slander, sir, which is a 
+truth; 
+And what I spake, I spake it to my face. 
+Par. Thy face is mine, and thou hast slan- 
+der'd it. 
+Jul. It may be so, for it is not mine own. 
+Are you at leisure, holy father, now; 
+Or shall I come to you at evening mass? 
+Fri. L. My leisure serves me, pensive 
+daughter, now. 
+N 
+Par. God shield I should disturb devo- 
+tion! 
+Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye: 
+Till then, adieu; and keep this holy kiss. 
+[Exu. 
+Jul. O, shut the door! and when thou hast 
+done so, 
+Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, 
+past help! 
+Fri. L. Ah, Juliet, I already know thy 
+grief ; 
+It strains me past the compass of my wits: 
+I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue 
+it, 
+On Thursday next be married to this county. 
+Jul. Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'’st of 
+this, 50 
+Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it: 
+If, in, thy wisdom, thou canst give no help, 
+Do thou but call my resolution wise, 
+And with this knife I'll help it presently. 
+God join’d my heart and Romeo's, thou our 
+hands; 
+And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal’d, 
+Shall be the label to another deed, 
+Or my true heart with treacherous revolt 
+Turn to another, this shall slay them both: 
+Therefore, out of thy long-experienced time, 
+Give me some present counsel, or, behold, 
+"Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife 
+Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that 
+Which the commission of thy years and art 
+Could to no issue of true honour bring. 
+Be not so long to speak; I long to die, 
+If what thou speak’st speak not of remedy. 
+Fri. L. Hold, daughter: I do spy a kind 
+of hope, 
+Which craves as desperate an execution 
+As that is desperate which we would prevent. 
+If, rather than to marry County Paris, 71 
+Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself, 
+Then is it likely thou wilt undertake 
+A thing like death to chide away this shame, 
+That copest with death himself to scape from 
+
+
+It; 
+And, if thou darest, I "ll give thee remedy. 
+Jul. O, bid me leap, rather than marry 
+Paris, 
+
+
+ms 
+
+
+910 ROMEO AND JULIET [Act IV,-Sc. Il 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord. 
+jul. Love give me strength! and. strength 
+shall help afford. 
+Farewell, dear father! [Exeunt, 
+
+
+From off the battlements of yonder tower; 
+
+Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk 
+
+Where serpents are; chain me with roaring 
+bears; 80 
+
+Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house, 
+
+O’er-cover’d quite with dead men’s rattling 
+bones, 
+
+With reeky shanks and yellow chapless-skulls; 
+
+Or bid me go into a new-made grave 
+
+And hide me with a dead man in his shroud; 
+
+Things that, to hear them told, have made 
+me tremble; 
+
+And I will do it without fear or doubt, 
+
+To live an unstain’d wife to my sweet love. 
+
+Fri. L. Hold, then; go home, be merry, 
+
+give consent 
+
+To marry Paris: Wednesday is to-morrow: 90 
+
+To-morrow night look that thou lie alone; 
+
+Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy cham- 
+
+
+Scene II. Hall in Capulet’s house. 
+
+
+Enter CapuLet, Lapy CapuLet, Nurse, and 
+iwo Servingmen. 
+
+
+Cap. So many guests invite as here are 
+writ. {Exit First Servant. 
+Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks. 
+
+Sec. Serv. You shall have none ill, sir; for 
+I'll try if they can lick their fingers. 
+
+Cap. How canst thou try them so? 
+
+Sec. Serv. Marry, sir, ‘tis an ill cook that 
+cannot lick his own fingers: therefore he that .. 
+cannot lick his fingers goes not with me. 
+
+Cap. Go, be gone. [Exit Sec. Servant. 
+We shall be much unfurnish’d for this time. 
+What, is my daughter gone to Friar Laur 
+
+ence? } 
+
+Nurse. Ay, forsooth. 
+
+Cap. Well, he may chance to do some 
+
+good on her: 
+A peevish self-will’d harlotry it is. 
+
+Nurse. See where she comes from shrift 
+
+with merry look. 
+
+
+er: 
+
+Take thou this vial, being then in bed, 
+
+And this distilled liquor drink thou off; 
+
+When presently through all thy vems shal] 
+run 
+
+A cold and drowsy humour, for no pulse 
+
+Shall keep his native progress, but surcease: 
+
+No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou 
+livest; 
+
+The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade 
+
+To paly ashes, thy eyes’ windows fall, 100]: 
+
+Like death, when he shuts up the day of life; 
+
+Each part, deprived of supple government, 
+
+Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like 
+death: 
+
+And in this borrow’d likeness of shrunk death 
+
+Thou shalt continue two and forty hours, 
+
+And then awake as from a pleasant sleep. 
+
+Now, when the bridegroom in the morning 
+
+; comes 
+
+To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou 
+dead: 
+
+Then, as the manner of our country is, 
+
+In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier 110 
+
+Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault 
+
+Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie. 
+
+Iu the mean time, against thou shalt awake, 
+
+Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift, 
+
+And hither shall he come: and he and I 
+
+Will watch thy waking, and that very night 
+
+
+Enter JUuET. 
+
+
+Cap. How now, my headstrong! where — 
+have you been gadding? 
+Jul. Where I have learn’d me to repent 
+the sin | 
+Of disobedient opposition 
+To you and your behests, and am enjoin’d 
+By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here, 20 
+And beg your pardon: pardon, I beseech 
+you! 
+Henceforward I am ever ruled by you. 
+ihe Send for the county; go tell him of 
+this: 
+I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morn- — 
+
+
+ing. 
+Jul. 1 met the youthful lord at Laur- 
+ence’ cell; ; 
+And gave him what becomed love I might, 
+Not stepping o’er the bounds of modesty. 
+Cap. Why, I am glad on’t; this is well: 
+
+
+Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua. stand up: 
+And this shall free thee from this present} This is as't should be. Let me see the 
+shame; county; 
+
+
+Ay, marry, go, I ae and fetch him hither. 30 — 
+0 | Now, afore God! this reverend holy friar, 
+All our whole city is much bound to him. 
+
+
+If no inconstant toy, nor womanish fear, 
+Abate thy valour in the acting it. 
+Jul. Give me, give me! O, tell not me 
+
+
+of fear! Jul. Nurse, will you go with me into my 
+Fri. L. Hold; get you gone, be strong and closet, 
+prosperous To help me sort such needful ornaments 
+
+
+In this resolve: I'll send a friar with speed | As you think fit to furnish me to-morrow? 
+
+
+“Acer IV, Sc. IVI 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+x 
+
+
+on 
+
+
+La. Cap. No, not till Thursday; there is 
+time enough. 
+Cap. Good nurse, go with her: we'll to 
+church to-morrow. 
+{Exeunt Juliet and Nurse. 
+La. Cap. We shall be short in our pro- 
+
+
+vision: 
+*Tis now near night. 
+Cap. Tush, I will stir about, 
+
+
+And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, 
+
+
+wife: 40: 
+Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her; 
+I'll not to bed to-night; let me alone; 
+I'll play the housewife for this once. What, 
+
+
+ho! 
+They are all forth. Well, I will walk myself 
+_ To County Paris, to prepare him up 
+Against to-morrow: my heart is wondrous 
+light, 
+
+
+Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim’d. 
+
+
+i Scene II. Juliet’s chamber. 
+Enter Juutet and Nurse. 
+Jul. Ay, those attires are best; but, gentle 
+nurse, 
+I pray thee, leave me to myself to-night; 
+For I have need of many orisons 
+To move the heavens to smile upon my state, 
+Which, well thou know’st, is cross and full 
+of sin. 
+
+
+Enter Lapy CAPULET. 
+
+
+La. Cap. What, are you busy, ho? need 
+you my help? 
+Jul. No, madam; 
+necessaries 
+As are behoveful for our state to-morrow: 
+So please you, let me now be left alone, 
+And let the nurse this night sit up with you; 
+For, I am sure, you have your hands full all, 
+In this so sudden business. 
+La. Cap. Good night: 
+Get thee to bed, and rest; for thou hast need. 
+[Exeunt Lady Capulet and Nurse. 
+Jul. Farewell! God knows when we shall 
+meet again. 
+I have a faint cold fear thrills through my 
+veins, 
+That almost freezes up the heat of life: 
+I'll call them back again to comfort me: 
+Nurse! What should she do here? 
+My dismal scene I needs must act alone. 
+Come,’ vial. 20 
+What if this mixture do not work at all? 
+Shall I be married then to-morrow morning? 
+No, no: this shall forbid it: lie thou there. 
+[Laying down her dagger. 
+What if it be a poison, which the friar 
+Subtly hath minister’d to have me dead, 
+
+
+we have cull'd such 
+
+
+Lest in this marriage he should be dishon- 
+our'd, 
+
+Because he married me before to Romeo? 
+
+I fear it is: and yet, methinks, | should not, 
+
+For he hath still been tried a holy man. 
+
+How if, when I am laid into the tomb, 
+
+I wake before the time that Romeo 
+
+Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point! 
+
+Shall I not, then, be stifled in the vault, 
+
+To whose foul mouth no healthsome air 
+
+
+36 
+
+
+breathes in, 
+
+And there die strangled ere my Romeo 
+comes ? 
+
+Or, if I live, is it not very like, 
+
+
+The horrible conceit of death and night, 
+Together with the terror of the place,— 
+As in a vault, an ancient receptacle, 
+Where, for these many hundred years, the 
+bones 40 
+Of all my buried ancestors are pack’d: 
+Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth, 
+Lies festering in his shroud; where, as they 
+say, 
+At some hours in the night spirits resort;— 
+Alack, alack, is it not like that I, 
+So early waking, what with loathsome smells, 
+And shrieks like mandrakes’ torn out of the 
+
+
+earth, 
+That living mortals, hearing them, run 
+mad:— 
+O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught, 
+Environed with all these hideous fears? 50 
+
+
+And madly play with my forefathers’ joints > 
+
+And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his 
+shroud ? 
+
+And, in this rage, with some great kinsman’s 
+bone, 
+
+As with a club, dash out my desperate brains? 
+
+O, look! methinks I see my cousin’s ghost 
+
+Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body 
+
+Upon a rapier’s point: stay, Tybalt, stay! 
+
+Romeo, I come! this do | drink to thee. 
+
+[She falls upon her bed, within the curtains. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Hall in Capulet’s house. 
+Enter Lapy CApuLET and Nurse, 
+La. Cap. Hold, take these keys, and fetch 
+
+
+more spices, nurse. 
+Nurse. They call for dates and quinces in 
+the pastry. 
+
+
+Enter CAPULET. 
+
+
+Cap. Come, stir, stir, stir! the second cock 
+hath crow'd, 
+The curfew-bell hath rung, tis three o'clock: 
+Look to the baked meats, good Angelica: 
+Spare not for cost. 
+Nurse. Go, you cot-guean, go, 
+
+
+912 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+» [Act IV, Sc. ¥ 
+
+
+Get you to bed; faith, you'll be sick to- 
+morrow 
+For this night's watching. 
+Cap. No, not a whit: what! I have watch’d 
+ere now 
+All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been 
+sick. 
+La. Cap. Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt 
+im your time; 
+But I wil! watch you from such watching 
+now. 
+[Exeunt Lady Capulet and Nurse. 
+Cap. A jealous-hood, a jealous-hood! 
+
+
+Enter three or four Servingmen, with spits, 
+logs, and baskets. 
+
+
+Now, fellow, 
+What's there? 
+First Serv. Things for the cook, sir; but I 
+know not what. 
+Cap. Make haste, make haste. [Exit First 
+Serv.] Sirrah, fetch drier logs: 
+Call Peter, he will show thee where they are. 
+Sec. Serv. I have a head, sir, that will find 
+out logs, 
+And never trouble Peter for the matter. [Exit. 
+Cap. Mass, and well said; a merry 
+whoreson, ha! 
+
+
+Thou shalt be logger-head. Good faith, ‘tis 
+
+
+ay: 
+The county will be here with music straight, 
+For so he said he would: I hear him near. 
+[Music within. 
+Nurse! Wife! What, ho! What, nurse, I 
+say! 
+Re-enter Nurse. 
+
+
+Go waken Juliet, go and trim her up; 
+
+I'll go and chat with Paris: hie, make haste, 
+
+Make haste; the bridegroom he is come al- 
+ready: 
+
+
+Make haste, I say. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene V.  Juliet’s chamber. 
+Enter Nurse. 
+
+
+Nurse. Mistress! what, mistress! Juliet! 
+
+fast, I warrant her, she: 
+
+Why, lamb! why, lady! fie, you slug-a-bed! 
+
+Why, love, I say! madam! sweet-heart! why, 
+bride! 
+
+What, not a word? you take your penny- 
+worths now; 
+
+Sleep for a week; for the next night, I war- 
+rant, 
+
+
+The County Paris hath set up his rest, 
+
+
+That you shall rest but little. God forgive me, | 
+
+
+Marry, and amen, how sound is she asleep! 
+I must needs wake her. Madam, madam, 
+madam! 
+
+
+Ay, let the county take you in your bed: 10 
+
+He'll fright you up, i’ faith. Will it not be? 
+[Undraws the curtains. 
+
+What, dress’d! and ia your clothes! and 
+
+down again! 
+
+I must needs wake you: Lady! lady! lady! 
+
+Alas, alas! Help, help! my lady’s dead! 
+
+O, well-a-day, that ever I was born! 
+
+Some aqua vite, ho! My lord! my lady! 
+
+
+Enter Lapy CAPULET. 
+
+
+La. Cap. What noise is here? 
+
+Nurse. O lamentable day! 
+
+La. Cap. What is the matter? 
+
+Nurse. Look, look! O heavy day! 
+
+La. Cap. O me, O me! My child, my only 
+
+life, : 
+
+Revive, look up, or I will die with thee! 20 
+Help, help! Call help. 
+
+
+Enter CAPULET. 
+Cap. For shame, bring Juliet forth; her 
+
+
+lord is come. 
+
+Nurse. She’s dead, deceased, she’s dead; 
+alack the day! 
+
+La. Cap. Alack the day, she’s dead, she's 
+dead, she’s dead! 
+
+
+Cap. Ha! let me see her: out, alas! she's 
+
+
+cold; 
+Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff; 
+Life and these lips have long been separated: 
+Death lies on her like an untimely frost 
+Upon the sweetest flower of all the field. 
+Nurse. O lamentable day! 
+Esa.uCap. ove O woful time! 30 
+Cap. Death, that hath ta’en her hence to 
+make me wail, 
+Ties up my tongue, and will not let me 
+speak. 
+
+
+Enter Friar LaureENcE and Paris, with 
+Musicians. 
+
+
+Fri. L. Come, is the bride ready to go to 
+church > 
+Cap. Ready to go, but never to return. 
+O son! the night before thy wedding-day 
+ah Death lain with thy wife. There she 
+ies, 
+Flower as she was, deflowered by him. 
+Death is my son-in-law, Death is my heir; 
+My daughter he hath wedded: I will die, 
+And leave him all; life, living, all is Death's. 
+Par. Have I thought long to see this 
+morning’s face, 41 
+And doth it give me such a sight as this? 
+La. Cap. Accursed, unhappy, wretched, 
+hateful day! 
+Most miserable hour that e’er time saw 
+In lasting labour of his pilgrimage! 
+
+
+Gra Wa See. | 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+913 
+
+
+But one, poor one, one poor and loving child, 
+But one thing to rejoice and solace in, 
+And cruel death hath catch’d it from my 
+sight! 
+Nurse. 
+day! 
+Most lamentable day, most woful day, 
+That ever, ever, I did yet behold! 
+O day! O day! O day! O hateful day! 
+Never was seen so black a day as this: 
+
+
+O woful day, O woful day! 
+
+
+O woe!-O woful, woful, woful 
+
+
+50 
+
+
+Par. Beguiled, divorced, wronged, spited, 
+
+
+slain! 
+Most detestable death, by thee beguiled, 
+By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown! 
+O love! O life! not life, but love in death! 
+Cap. Despised, distressed, hated, martyr’d, 
+kill’d! 
+Uncomfortable time, why camest thou now 60 
+_ To murder, murder our solemnity ? 
+-O child! O child! my soul, and not my 
+child! 
+Dead art thou! Alack! my child is dead; 
+And with my child my joys are buried. 
+Fri. L. Peace, ho, for shame! confusion’s 
+cure lives not 
+In these confusions. Heaven and yourself 
+Had part in this fair maid; now heaven hath 
+all, 
+And all the better is it for the maid: 
+Your part in her you could not keep from 
+death, 
+But heaven keeps his part in eternal life. 70 
+The most you sought was her promotion; 
+For ‘twas your heaven she should be ad- 
+vanced: | 
+And weep ye now, seeing she is advanced 
+Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself ? 
+O, in this love, you love your child so ill, 
+That you run mad, seeing that she is well: 
+She’s not well married that lives married 
+long; 
+But she's best married that dies married 
+young. 
+Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary 
+On this fair corse; and, as the custom is, 
+In all her best array bear her to church: 
+For though fond nature bids us all lament, 
+Yet nature’s tears are reason’s merriment. 
+Cap. All things that we ordained festival, 
+Turn from their office to black funeral; 
+Our instruments to melancholy bells, 
+Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast, 
+Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change, 
+Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse, 
+And all things change them to the contrary.90 
+Fri. L. Sir, go you in; and, madam, go 
+with him; 
+And go, Sir Paris; every one prepare 
+
+
+To follow this fair corse unto her grave: 
+The heavens do lour upon you for some ill; 
+Move them no more by crossing their high 
+will. [Exeunt Capulet, Lady Capulet, 
+Paris, and Friar. 
+First Mus. Faith, we may put up our pipes, 
+and be gone. 
+Nurse. Honest good fellows, ah, put up, 
+put up; 
+For, well you know, this is a pitiful case. 
+[Exit. 
+First Mus. Ay, by my troth, the case may 
+be amended. 101 
+
+
+Enter PETER. 
+
+
+Pet. Musicians, ©, musicians, ‘Heart's 
+ease, Heart’s ease:' O, an you will have me 
+live, play “Heart's ease.” 
+
+First Mus. Why ‘Heart's ease’? 
+
+Pet. O, musicians, because my heart itself 
+plays ‘My heart is full of woe:’ O, play me 
+some merry dump, to comfort me. 
+
+First Mus. Not a dump we; ‘tis no time to 
+
+
+play now. 110 
+Pet. You will not, then? 
+First Mus. No. 
+
+
+Pet. 1 will then give it you soundly. 
+
+First Mus. What will you give us? 
+
+Pet. No money, on my faith, but the gleek; 
+I will give you the minstrel. 
+
+First Mus. Then will I give you the serv- 
+ing-creature. i 
+
+Pet. Then will I lay the serving-creature’s 
+dagger on your pate. will carry no 
+crotchets: I'll re you, I'll fa you; do you 
+note me> 12) 
+
+First Mus. An you re us and fa us, you 
+note us. 
+
+Sec. Mus. Pray you, put up your dagger, 
+and put out your wit. 
+
+Pet. Then have at you with my wit! i will 
+dry-beat you with an iron wit, and put up my 
+iron dagger. Answer me like men: 
+
+‘When griping grief the heart doth wound, 
+
+And doleful dumps the mind oppress, 
+
+Then music with her silver sound’— 13 
+why ‘silver sound’? why ‘music with her 
+silver sound’? What say you, Simon Catling ? 
+
+First Mus. Marry, sir, because silver hath 
+a sweet sound. 
+
+Pet. Pretty! what say you, Hugh Rebeck> 
+
+
+Sec. Mus. I say ‘silver sound,’ because 
+musicians sound for silver. 
+
+Pet. Pretty too! What say you, James 
+Soundpost? 139 
+
+
+Third Mus. Faith, know not what to say. 
+Pet. O, I cry you mercy; you are the 
+singer: I will say for you. It is ‘music with 
+
+
+nS 
+
+
+her silver sound,’ because musicians have no 
+gold for sounding: 
+
+“Then music with her silver sound 
+
+With speedy help doth lend redress.’ 
+[Exit. 
+
+First Mus. What a pestilent knave is this 
+same! 
+
+Sec. Mus. Hang him, Jack! Come, we ‘ll 
+in here; tarry for the mourners, and stay 
+dinner. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT V. 
+
+
+Mantua. A street. 
+Enter Romeo. 
+
+
+Scene I. 
+
+
+Rom. If I may trust the flattering truth of 
+
+sleep, 
+
+My dreams presage some joyful news at 
+hand: 
+
+My bosom’s lord sits lightly in his throne; 
+
+And all this day an unaccustom'd spirit 
+
+Lifts me above the ground with cheerful 
+thoughts. 
+
+I dreamt my lady came and found me dead— 
+
+Strange dream, that gives a dead man leave 
+to think! — 
+
+And breathed such life with kisses in my lips, 
+
+That I revived, and was an emperor. 
+
+Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess’d, 10 
+
+Wher but love’s shadows are so rich in joy! 
+
+
+Enter BALTHASAR, booted. 
+
+
+News from Verona!—How now, Balthasar! 
+Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar? 
+How doth my lady? Is my father well? 
+How fares my Juliet? that I ask again; 
+For nothing can be ill, if she be well. 
+
+Bal. Then she is well, and nothing can 
+
+be ill: 
+
+Her body sleeps in Capels’ monument, 
+And her immortal part with angels lives. 
+I saw her laid low in her kindred’s vault, 20 
+And presently took post to tell it you: 
+O, pardon me for bringing these ill news, 
+Since you did leave it for my office, sir. 
+
+
+Rom. Is it even so? then | defy you, 
+stars! 
+
+Thou know’st my lodging: get me ink and 
+paper, 
+
+
+And hire post-horses; 1 will hence to-night. 
+Bal. 1 do beseech you, sir, have patience: 
+Your looks are pale and wild, and do import 
+Some misadventure. 
+Rom. Tush, thou art deceived: 
+Leave me, and do the thing | bid thee do. 30 
+Hast thou no letters to me from the friar? 
+
+
+Bal. No, my good lord. 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+iy “oe PO hI 
+
+
+[Act VeiSe.i1 
+
+
+Rom. No matter: get thee gone, 
+
+And hire those horses; I ‘il be with thee 
+straight. [Exit Balthasar. 
+
+Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night. 
+
+Let’s see for means: O mischief, thou art 
+swift 
+
+To enter in the thoughts of desperate men! 
+
+I do remember an apothecary,— 
+
+And hereabouts he dwells,—which late I 
+noted 
+
+In tatter’d weeds, with overwhelming brows, 
+
+Culling of simples; meagre were his looks, 40 
+
+Sharp misery had worn him to the bones: 
+
+And im his needy shop a tortoise hung, 
+
+An alligator stuff’d, and other skins 
+
+Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves 
+
+A beggarly account of empty boxes, 
+
+Green earthen pots, bladders and musty seeds, 
+
+Remnants of packthread and old cakes of 
+roses, 
+
+Were thinly scatter’d, to make up a show. 
+
+Noting this penury, to myself I said 
+
+‘An if a man did need a poison now, 
+
+Whose sale is present death in Mantua, 
+
+Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.’ 
+
+O, this same thought did but forerun my 
+need; 
+
+And this same needy man must sell it me. 
+
+As I remember, this should be the house. 
+
+Being holiday, the beggar’s shop is shut. 
+
+What, ho! apothecary! 
+
+
+50 
+
+
+Enter Apothecary. 
+
+
+Ap. 3 Who calls so loud? 
+Rom. Come hither, man. I see that thou — 
+art poor: 
+
+
+Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have 
+A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear 60 
+As will disperse itself through all the veins 
+That the life-weary taker may fall dead 
+And that. the trunk may be discharged of 
+breath 
+As violently as hasty powder fired 
+Doth hurry from the fatal cannon’s womb. 
+Ap. Such mortal drugs I have; but Man- 
+tua’s law 
+Is death to any he that utters them. 
+Rom. Art thou so bare and full of 
+wretchedness, 
+And fear’st to die? famine is in thy cheeks, 
+Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes, 70 
+Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back; 
+The world is not thy friend nor the world’s 
+law; 
+The world affords no law to make thee rich; 
+Then be not poor, but break it, and take this. 
+Ap. My poverty, but not my will, con- 
+sents, 
+
+
+Aer V, Se. Hl] 
+
+
+Rom. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will. 
+Ap. Put this in any liquid thing you will, 
+And drink it off; and, if you had the strength 
+Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight. 
+Rom. There's thy gold, worse poison to 
+men’s souls, 80 
+Doing more murders in this loathsome world, 
+Than these poor compounds that thou mayst 
+not sell. 
+
+I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none. 
+Farewell: buy food, and get thyself in flesh. 
+
+Come, cordial and not poison, go with me 
+To Juliet’s grave; for there must I use thee. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene Il. Friar Laurence’s cell. 
+
+
+Enter Friar Joun. 
+Fri. J. Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho! 
+
+
+Enter FRIAR LAURENCE. 
+
+
+Fri. L. This same should be the voice of 
+Friar John. 
+Welcome from Mantua: what says Romeo? 
+Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter. 
+Fri. J. Going to find a bare-foot brother 
+q out, 
+One of our order, to associate me, 
+Here in this city visiting the sick, 
+And finding him, the searchers of the town, 
+Suspecting that we both were in a house 
+Where the infectious pestilence did reign, 10 
+Seal’d up the doors, and would not let us 
+forth; 
+So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd. 
+
+
+Fri. o bare my letter, then, to 
+Romzo? 
+
+Fri. J. I could not send it,—here it is 
+again,— 
+
+
+Nor get a messenger to bring it thee, 
+So fearful were they of infection. ; 
+Fri. L. Unhappy fortune! by my brother- 
+hood, 
+The letter was not nice but full of charge 
+Of dear import, and the neglecting it 
+May do much danger. Friar John, go hence; 
+Get me an iron crow, and bring it straight 21 
+Unto my cell. 
+Fri. J. Brother, I'll go and bring it thee, 
+. [ Exit. 
+Fri, L. Now must I| to the monument alone; 
+Within. this three hours will fair Juliet wake: 
+She will beshrew me much that Romeo 
+Hath had no notice of these accidents; 
+But I will write again to Mantua, 
+_ And keep her at my cell till Romeo come; 29 
+Poor living corse, closed in a dead man’s 
+
+
+tomb! JExit. 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+915 
+
+
+Scene III. A churchyard; in it a tomb 
+belonging to the Capulets. 
+
+
+Enter Paris, and his Page bearing flowers 
+and a torch. 
+
+
+Par. Give me thy torch, boy: hence, and 
+stand aloof: 
+Yet put it out, for I would not be seen. 
+Under yond yew-trees lay thee all along, 
+Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground; 
+So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread, 
+Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of 
+graves, 
+But thou shalt hear it; whistle then to me, 
+As signal that thou hear’st something ap- 
+proach, 
+Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go. 
+Page. [Aside] I am almost afraid to stand 
+
+
+alone 10 
+Here in the churchyard; yet I will adventure. 
+[Retires. 
+
+
+Par. Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal 
+bed I strew,— 
+O woe! thy canopy is dust and stones ;— 
+Which with sweet water nightly I will dew,’ 
+Or, wanting that, with tears distill’d by 
+moans: 
+The obsequies that I for thee will keep 
+Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and 
+weep. [The Page whistles, 
+The boy gives warning something doth ap- 
+proach. 
+What cursed foot wanders this way to-nighl, 
+To cross my obsequies and true love’s rite? ZC! 
+What, with a torch! muffle me, night, awhile, 
+: [ Retires. 
+
+
+Enier Romeo and Battuasar, with a torch, 
+mattock, &c. 
+
+
+Rom. Give me that mattock and the 
+wrenching iron. 
+
+Hold, take this letter: early in the morning 
+
+See thou deliver it to my lord and father. 
+
+Give me the light: upon thy life, I. charge 
+thee, 
+
+Whate’er thou hear’st or seeest, stand all 
+aloof, 
+
+And do not interrupt me in my course, 
+
+Why I descend into this bed of death, 
+
+Is partly to behold my lady's face; 
+
+But chiefly to take thence from her dead 
+finger 
+
+A precious ring, a ring that I must use 31 
+
+In dear employment: therefore hence, be 
+gone: 
+
+But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry 
+
+In what I further shall intend to do, 
+
+By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint 
+
+And strew this hungry churchyard with thy 
+limbs: 
+
+
+916 
+
+
+“ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. Ill 
+
+
+The time and my intents are savage-wild, 
+More fierce and more inexorable far 
+Than empty tigers or the roaring sea. 
+Bal. I will be gone, sir, and not trouble 
+you. 
+Rom. So shalt thou show me friendship. 
+Take thou that: 4] 
+Live, and be prosperous: and farewell, good 
+fellow. 
+Bal. [Aside] For all this same, I'll hide 
+me hereabout: 
+His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt. 
+[ Retires. 
+Rom. Thou detestable maw, thou womb of 
+death, 
+Gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth, 
+Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open, 
+And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more 
+food! [Opens the tomb. 
+Par. This is that banish’'d haughty Mon- 
+
+
+tague, 
+That murder’d my love's cousin, with which 
+grief, 50 
+
+
+It is supposed, the fair creature died; 
+And here is come to do some villanous shame 
+To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him. 
+[Comes forward. 
+Stop thy unhallow’d toil, vile Montague! 
+Can vengeance be pursued further than death? 
+Condemned villain, | do apprehend thee: 
+Obey, and go with me; for thou must die. 
+Rom. I must indeed; and therefore came 
+I hither. 
+Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate 
+man; 
+Fly hence, and leave me: think upon these 
+gone; 
+Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth, 
+Put not another sin upon my head, 
+By urging me to fury: O, be gone! 
+By heaven, I love thee better than myself; 
+For I come hither arm'd against myself: 
+Stay not, be gone; live, and hereafter say, 
+A madman’s mercy bade thee run away. 
+Par. 1 do defy thy conjurations, 
+And apprehend thee for a felon here. 
+Rom. Wilt thou provoke me? then have at 
+
+
+thee, boy! [They fight. 70 
+Page. O Lord, they fight! I will go call 
+the watch. [Exit. 
+Par. O, I am slain! [Falls.] If thou be 
+merciful, 
+
+
+Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet. 
+
+Rom. In faith, I will. 
+face. 
+
+Mercutios kinsman, 
+
+
+[Dies. 
+
+
+Let me peruse this 
+
+
+noble County Paris! 
+What said my man, when my betossed soul 
+Did not attend him as we rode? I think 
+
+He told me Paris should have married Juliet: 
+
+
+Said he not so? or did I dream it so? 
+Or am I| mad, hearing him talk of Juliet, 80 
+To think it was so? OO, give me thy hand, 
+One writ with me in sour misfortune’s book! 
+I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave; 
+A grave? O, no! a lantern, slaughter'd 
+youth, 
+For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes 
+This vault a feasting presence full of light. 
+Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr’d. 
+[Laying Paris in the tomb. 
+How oft when men are at the point of death 
+Have they been merry! which their keepers 
+call 
+A lightning before death: O, how may I 90 
+Call this a lightning? O my love! my wife! 
+Death, that hath suck’d the honey of thy 
+breath, 
+Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty: 
+Thou art not conquer’d; beauty’s ensign yet 
+Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, 
+And death’s pale flag is not advanced there. 
+Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet? 
+O, what more favour can | do to thee, 
+Than with that hand that cut thy youth in 
+twain 
+To sunder his that was thine enemy ? 100 
+Forgive me, cousin! Ah, dear Juliet, 
+Why art thou yet so fair? shall I believe 
+That unsubstantial death is amorous, 
+And that the lean abhorred monster keeps 
+Thee here in dark to be his paramour? 
+For fear of that, I still will stay with thee; 
+And never from this palace of dim night 
+Depart again: here, here will I remain 
+With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, 
+here 
+Will I set up my everlasting rest, 
+And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars 
+From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look 
+your last! 
+Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O 
+you 
+The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss 
+A dateless bargain to engrossing death! 
+Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide}! 
+Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on 
+The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark! 
+Here's to my love! [Drinks.] O true apoth- 
+ecary! 
+Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die. 
+[Dies. 
+Enter, at the other end of the churchyard, 
+Friar Laurence, with a lantern, crow, 
+and spade. 
+Fri. L. Saint Francis be my speed! how 
+oft to-night 121 
+Have my old feet stumbled at graves! Who's 
+there? 
+
+
+110 
+
+
+Acr V, Sc. III] 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+917 
+
+
+Bal. Here’s one a friend, and one that 
+knows you well, 
+
+Fri. L. Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good 
+my friend, 
+
+| What torch is yond, that vainly lends his light 
+
+To grubs and eyeless skulls? as I discern, 
+
+It burneth in the Capels’ monument. 
+Bal. It doth so, holy sir; and there ’s my 
+
+master, 
+
+One that you love. 
+
+Britals Who is it? 
+
+Bal. Romeo. 
+
+Fri. L. How long hath he been there? 
+
+Bal. Full half an hour. 
+
+Fri. L. Go with me to the vault. 
+
+Bal. I dare not, sir: 
+My master knows not but I am gone hence; 
+And fearfully did menace me with death, 
+
+{f I did stay to look on his intents. 
+
+Fri. L. Stay, then; I'll go alone. Fear 
+
+comes upon me: 
+~O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing. 
+Bal. As 1 did sleep under this yew-tree 
+here, 
+I dreamt my master and another fought, 
+And that my master slew him. 
+Frivks 
+
+
+130 
+
+
+Romeo! 
+[Advances. 
+Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains 
+The stony entrance of this sepulchre? 14] 
+What mean these masterless and gory swords 
+To lie discolour’d by this place of peace? 
+[Enters the tomb. 
+Romeo! O, pale! Who else? what, Paris 
+too? 
+And steep’d in blood? Ah, what an unkind 
+hour 
+Is guilty of this lamentable chance! 
+The lady stirs. [Juliet wakes, 
+Jul. O comfortable friar! where is my 
+lord? 
+I do remember well where I should be, 
+And there I am. Where is my Romeo? 150 
+[Noise within. 
+Fri. L. 1 hear some noise. Lady, come 
+from that nest 
+Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep: | 
+A greater power than we can contradict 
+Hath thwarted our intents. Come, come away, 
+Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead; 
+And Paris too. Come, I "Il dispose of thee 
+Among a sisterhood of holy nuns: 
+Stay not to question, for the watch is coming; 
+Come, go, good Juliet [Noise again], I dare 
+no longer stay. 
+Jul. Go, get thee hence, for I will not 
+away. [Exit Fri. L. 
+What's here? a cup, closed in my true love's 
+
+
+hand > 16) 
+
+
+Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end: 
+
+O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop 
+To help me after? I will kiss thy lips; 
+Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, 
+To make me die with a restorative. 
+
+
+[Kisses him. 
+Thy lips are warm. 
+First Watch. [Within] Lead, boy: which 
+way? 
+Jul. Yea, noise? then 1'll be brief. O 
+happy dagger! 
+[Snatching Romeo’s dagger. 
+This is thy sheath [Stabs herself]; there rust, 
+and let me die. 170 
+[Falls on Romeo's body, and dies. 
+Enter Watch, with the Page of Paris. 
+Page. This is the place; there, where the 
+torch doth burn. 
+First Watch. The ground is bloody; search 
+about the churchyard: 
+Go, some of you, whoe’er you find attach. 
+Pitiful sight! here hes the county slain; 
+And Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead, 
+Who here hath lain these two days buried. 
+Go, tell the prince: run to the Capulets: 
+Raise up the Montagues: some others search: 
+We see the ground whereon these woes do lie; 
+But the true ground of all these piteous woes 
+We cannot without circumstance descry. 18] 
+Re-enter some of the Watch, with BALTHASAR. 
+Sec. Watch. Here’s Romeo’s man; we 
+found him in the churchyard. 
+First Watch. Hold him in safety, till the 
+
+
+prince come hither. 
+
+
+Re-enter others of the Watch, with FRIAR 
+LAURENCE. 
+
+
+Third Watch. Here is a friar, that trem- 
+bles, sighs, and weeps:. 
+We took this mattock and this spade from 
+him, 
+As he was coming from this churchyard side. 
+First Watch. A great suspicion: stay the 
+friar too. 
+
+
+Enter the Prince and Attendants. 
+
+
+Prince. What misadventure is so early up, 
+That calls our person from our morning’s rest} 
+Enter CAPuLET, LaDy CAPULET, and others. 
+
+Cap. What should it be, that they sc shriek 
+
+
+abroad? 190 
+La. Cap. The people in the street cry 
+Romeo, 
+
+
+Some Juliet, and some Paris; and all run, 
+With open outcry, toward our monument. 
+Prince. What fear is this which startles in 
+our ears? 
+First Watch. Sovereign, here lies the County 
+Paris slain; 
+
+
+918 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+a RS 
+
+
+[Acr V, Sc. III 
+
+
+And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before, 
+Warm and new kill'd. 
+Prince. Search, seek, and know how this 
+foul murder comes. 
+First Watch. Here is a friar, and slaugh- 
+tered Romeo’s man; 
+With instruments upon them, fit to open 200 
+These dead men's tombs. 
+Cap. O heavens! O wife, look how our 
+daughter bleeds! 
+This dagger hath mista’en,—for, lo, his house 
+Is empty on the back of Montague,— 
+And it mis-sheathed in my daughter’s bosom! 
+La. Cap. O me! this sight of death is as 
+a bell, 
+
+
+That warns my old age to a sepulchre. 
+Enter MontacuE and others. 
+
+
+Prince. Come, Montague; for thou art 
+early up, 
+To see thy son and heir more early down. 
+
+Mon. Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to- 
+
+night; 210 
+Grief of my son’s exile hath stopp’d her 
+breath: 
+What further woe conspires against mine age? 
+Prince. Look, and thou shalt see. 
+Mon. O thou untaught! what manners is 
+in this, 
+To press before thy father to a grave? 
+
+Prince. Seal up the mouth of outrage for 
+
+a while, 
+Till we can clear these ambiguities, 
+And know their spring, their head, their true 
+descent; 
+And then will I be general of your woes, 
+And lead you even to death: meantime for- 
+bear, 220 
+And let mischance be slave to patience. 
+Bring forth the parties of suspicion. 
+
+Fri. L. I am the greatest, able to do least, 
+Yet most suspected, as the time and place 
+Doth make against me, of this direful murder: 
+And here I stand, both to impeach and purge 
+Myself condemned and myself excused. 
+
+Prince. hen say at once what thou dost 
+
+know in this. 
+
+
+Fri. L. I will be brief, for my short date 
+of breath 
+Is not so long as is a tedious tale. 230 
+Romeo, there dead, was husband to that 
+Juliet; 
+And she, there dead, that Romeo’s faithful 
+wife: 
+
+
+I married them; and their stol’n marriage-day 
+
+Was Tybalt’s dooms-day, whose untimely 
+death 
+
+Banish’d the new-made bridegroom from this 
+culty, 
+
+
+For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pined. 
+
+You, to remove that siege of grief from her, 
+
+Betroth’d and would have married her per- 
+force 
+
+To County Paris: then comes she to me, 
+
+And, with wild looks, bid me devise some 
+mean 
+
+To rid her from this second marriage, 241 
+
+Or in my cell there would she kill herself. 
+
+Then gave I her, so tutor’d by my art, 
+
+A sleeping potion; which so took effect 
+
+As I intended, for it wrought on her 
+
+The form of death: meantime I writ to 
+Romeo, 
+
+That he should hither come as this dire night, 
+
+To help to take her from her borrow'd grave: 
+
+Being the time the potion’s force should cease. 
+
+But he which bore my letter, Friar John, 250 
+
+Was stay’d by accident, and yesternight 
+
+Return’d my letter back. Then all alone 
+
+At the prefixed hour of her waking, ; 
+
+Came I to take her from her kindred’s vault; 
+
+Meaning to keep her closely at my cell, 
+
+Till I conveniently could send to Romeo: 
+
+But when I came, some minute ere the time 
+
+Of her awaking, here untimely lay 
+
+The noble Paris and true Romeo dead. 
+
+She wakes; and I entreated her come forth, 
+
+And bear this work of heaven with patience; 
+
+But then a noise did scare me from the tomb; 
+
+And she, too desperate, would not go with 
+me, 
+
+But, as it seems, did violence on herself. 
+
+All this I know; and to the marriage 
+
+Her nurse is priyy: and, if aught in this 
+
+Miscarried by my fault, let my old life 
+
+Be sacrificed, some hour before his time, 
+
+Unto the rigour of severest law. 
+
+Prince. We still have known thee for a 
+
+
+holy man. 270 
+Where ’s Romeo’s man? what can he say in 
+this? 
+
+
+Bal. |} brought my master news of Juliet’s 
+death; 
+And then in post he came from Mantua 
+To this same place, to this same monument. 
+This letter he early bid me give his father, 
+And threaten’d me with death, going in the 
+vault, 
+If I departed not and left him there. 
+Prince. Give me the letter; I will look on 
+1t. 
+Where is the county’s page, that raised the 
+watch ? 
+Sirrah, what made your master in this place? 
+Page. He came.with flowers to strew his 
+lady's grave; 281 
+And bid me stand aloof, and so I did: 
+
+
+Anon comes one with light to ope the tomb: 
+
+
+Acr V, Sc. Hl] © 
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+919 
+
+
+And by and by my master drew on him; 
+And then I ran away to call the watch. 
+Prince. This letter doth make good the 
+friar’s words, 
+Their course of love, the tidings of her death: 
+And here he writes that he did buy a poison 
+OF a poor "pothecary, and therewithal 289 
+Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet. 
+Where be these enemies? Capulet! Mon- 
+tague! 
+See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate, 
+That heaven finds means to kill your joys 
+with love. 
+And I for winking at your discords too 
+Have lost a brace of kinsmen: all are pun- 
+ish’d. 
+Cap. O brother Mor:ague, give me thy 
+hand: 
+
+
+This is my daughter's jointure, for no more 
+
+
+Can I demand, 
+Mon. But I can give thee more: 
+For I will raise her statue in pure gold; 
+That while Verona by that name is known, 
+There shall no figure at such rate be set 301 
+As that of true and faithful Juliet. 
+Cap. As rich shall Romeo's by his lady’s 
+hie; 
+Poor sacrifices of our enmity! 
+Prince. A glooming peace this morning with 
+it brings; 
+The sun, for sorrow, will not show his 
+head: 
+Go hence, to have more talk of these sad 
+things; ; 
+Some shall be pardon’d, and some punished: 
+For never was a story of more woe 
+316 
+
+
+Than this of Juliet and her Romeo. 
+(Exeunt. 
+
+
+TIMON OF ATHENS 
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSON/E 
+
+
+Timon, of Athens. 
+Lucius, 
+LucuL.us, 
+SEMPRONIUS, 
+VENTIDIUS, one of Timon’s false friends. 
+A.ciBIADEs, an Athenian captain. 
+APEMANTUS, a churlish philosopher. 
+FLavius, steward to Timon. 
+
+Poet, Painter, Jeweller, and Merchant. 
+
+An old Athenian. 
+
+FLamINIus, q 
+
+Lucitius, \ servants to Timon. 
+SERVILIUS, ) ; 
+
+
+l flattering lords. 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+
+
+Scene I. Athens. A hall in Timon’s house. 
+
+
+Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and 
+others, at several doors. 
+
+
+Poet. Good day, sir. 
+
+Pain. Il am glad you 're well. 
+
+Poet. have not seen you long: how goes 
+
+the world? 
+
+Pain. It wears, sir, as it grows. 
+
+Poet. Ay, that’s well known: 
+But what particular rarity ? what strange, 
+Which manifold record not matches? See, 
+Magic of bounty! all these spirits thy power 
+Hath conjured to attend. I ‘know the mer- 
+
+chant. 
+
+Pain. 1 know them both; th’ other’s a 
+
+jeweller. 
+
+Mer. O, ‘tis a worthy lord. 
+
+Jew. Nay, that’s most fix'd. 
+
+Mer. A most incomparable man, breathed, 
+
+as it were, 10 
+To an untirable and continuate goodness: 
+He passes. 
+Jew. I have a jewel here— 
+Mer. O, pray, let’s see't: for the Lord 
+Timon, sir? 
+
+Jew. If he will touch the estimate: but, for 
+
+that— 
+
+
+Poet. [Reciting to himself] “When we for 
+
+
+recompense have praised the vile, 
+It stains the glory in that happy verse 
+Which aptly sings the good.’ 
+Mer. 'Tis a good form. 
+[Looking at the jewe 
+
+
+| 
+L| 
+920 
+
+
+CapPHIs, i) 
+Puitotus, | 
+Titus, \ servants to Timon’s 
+Lucius, creditors. 
+HorTENSIUs, ; 
+And others, ) 
+A Page. A Fool. Three Strangers. 
+ae t mistresses to Alcibiades. 
+
+Cupid and Amazons in the mask, 
+Other Lords, Senators, Officers, Soldiers. 
+
+
+Banditti, and Attendants. 
+Scene: Athens, and the neighboring woods. 
+
+
+Jew. And rich: here is a water, look ye. 
+Pain. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some 
+dedication 
+To the great lord. 
+Poet. A thing slipp'd idly from me. 20 
+Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes 
+From whence ‘tis nourish’d: the fire i’ the flint 
+Shows not till it be struck; our gentle flame 
+Provokes itself and like the current flies 
+
+
+Each bound it chafes. What have you there? — 
+
+
+Pain. A picture, sir. When comes your 
+book forth? 
+Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment, sir, 
+Let's see your piece. 
+Pain. ’Tis a good piece. 
+Poet. So ‘tis: this comes off well and ex- 
+
+
+cellent. 
+
+
+Pain. Indifferent. 
+
+Poet. Admirable: how this grace 30 
+Speaks his own standing! what a mental power 
+This eye shoots forth! how big imagination 
+Moves in this lip! to the dumbness of the 
+
+gesture 
+One might interpret. 
+
+Pain. li is a pretty mocking of the life. 
+Here is a touch; ist good? 
+
+Poet. I will say of it, 
+
+It tutors nature: artificial strife 
+Lives in these touches, livelier than life. 
+
+
+Enter certain Senators, and pass over. 
+
+
+Pain. How this lord is follow’d! 
+Poet. The senators of Athens: happy man! 
+Pain. Look, more! 4) 
+
+
+ont 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+Act I, Se. I] 
+
+
+TIMON OF ATHENS 
+
+
+921 
+
+
+Poet. You see this confluence, this great 
+flood of visitors. 
+I haye, in this rough work, shaped out a man, 
+Whom this beneath world doth embrace and 
+hug 
+With amplest entertainment: my free drift 
+Halts not particularly, but moves itself 
+In a wide sea of wax: no levell’d malice 
+Infects one comma in the course I hold; 
+But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on, 
+Leaving no tract behind. 50 
+Pain. How shall I understand you? 
+Poet. I will unbolt to you. 
+You see how all conditions, how all minds, 
+As well of glib and slippery creatures as 
+Of grave and austere quality, tender down 
+Their services to Lord Timon: his large fortune 
+Upon his good and gracious nature hanging 
+Subdues and properties to his love and tendance 
+All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-faced 
+flatterer 
+“To Apemantus, that few things loves better 
+Than to abhor himself: even he drops down 
+The knee before him and returns in peace 
+Most rich in Timon’s nod. 
+Pain. I saw them speak together. 
+Poet. Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant 
+hill 
+Feign’d Fortune to be throned: 
+the mount 
+Is rank’d with all desexts, all kind of natures, 
+That labour on the bosom of this sphere 
+To propagate their states: amongst them all, 
+Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd, 
+One do I personate of Lord Timon’s frame, 
+Whom fortune with her ivory hand wafts to 
+her; 70 
+
+
+Whose present grace to present slaves and 
+
+
+the base o’ 
+
+
+servants 
+Translates his rivals. 
+Pain. "Tis conceived to scope. 
+
+
+This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, me- 
+thinks, 
+With one man beckon’d from the rest below, 
+Bowing his head against the steepy mount 
+To climb his happiness, would be well express'’d 
+In our condition. 
+Poet. Nay, sir, but hear me on. 
+All those which were his fellows but of late, 
+Some better than his value, on the moment 
+Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tend- 
+ance, 80 
+Rain sacrificial whispering i in his ear, 
+Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him 
+Drink the free air. 
+Pain. Ay, marry, what of these? 
+Poet. When Fortune in her shift and 
+change of mood 
+Spurns down her late beloved, all his dependants 
+
+
+Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top 
+
+Even on their knees and hands, let him slip 
+down, 
+
+Not one accompanying his declining foot. 
+
+Pain, ‘Tis common: 
+
+A thousand moral paintings I can show 90 
+
+That shall demonstrate these quick blows of 
+Fortune's 
+
+More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well 
+
+To show Lord Timon that mean eyes have 
+seen 
+
+
+The foot above the head. 
+
+
+Trumpets sound. Enter Lorp Timon, ad- 
+dressing himself courteously to every suitor; 
+a Messenger from VeNTipIUs talking with 
+him; Luciuius and other servants following, 
+Tim. 
+Mess. 
+debt, 
+His means mcst short, his creditors most strait: 
+Your honourable letter he desires 
+To those have shut him up; which failing, 
+Periods his comfort. 
+Tim. Noble Ventidius! Well; 
+I am not of that feather to shake off 100 
+My end when he must need me. I do know 
+im 
+A gentleman that well deserves a help: 
+Which he shall have: I'll pay the debt, and 
+free him. 
+Mess. Your lordship ever binds him. 
+Tim.. Commend me to him: | will send his 
+ransom; 
+And being enfranchised, bid him come to me. 
+"Tis not enough to help the feeble up, 
+But to support him after. Fare you well. 
+Mess. All happiness to your honour! 
+[Exit. 
+
+
+Imprison’d is he, say you? 
+Ay, my good lord: five talents is his 
+
+
+Enter an old Athenian. 
+
+
+Old Ath. Lerd Timon, hear me speak. 
+Tim. Freely, good father. 110 
+Old Ath. Thouhast a servantnamed Lucilius. 
+Tim. Ihave so: what of him? 
+Old Ath. Most noble Timon, call the man 
+before thee. 
+Tim. Attends he here, or no? Lucilius! 
+Luc. Here, at your lordship’s service. 
+Old Ath. This fellow here, Lord Timon, 
+this thy creature, 
+By night frequents my house. I am a man 
+That from my first have been inclined to thrift; 
+And my estate deserves an heir more raised 
+Than one which holds a trencher. 
+Tim. Well; what further? 120 
+Old Ath. One only daughter have I, no 
+kin else, 
+On whom I may confer what I have got: 
+The maid is fair, o’ the youngest for a bride, 
+
+
+t 
+
+
+922 
+
+
+And I have bred her at my dearest cost 
+In qualities of the best. This man of thine 
+Attempts her love: I prithee, noble lord, 
+Join with me to forbid him her resort; 
+Rls have spoke in yain. 
+The man is honest. 
+Ol “Ath. Therefore he will be, Timon: 
+His honesty rewards him in itself; 
+It must not bear my daughter. 
+Tim. Does she love him? 
+Old Ath. She is young and apt: 
+Our own precedent passions do instruct us 
+What levity ’s in youth, 
+
+
+130 
+
+
+Tim. [To Lucilius}] Love you the maid? 
+
+Luc. Ay, my good lord, and she accepts 
+of it. 
+
+Old Ath. If in her marriage my consent be 
+qnissing, 
+
+
+I call the gods to witness, I will choose 
+Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world, 
+And dispossess her all. 
+Tim. How shall she be endow’d, 
+If she be mated with an equal husband? 140 
+Old Ath. Three talents on the present; in 
+future, all. 
+Tim. This gentleman of mine hath served 
+me long: 
+To build his fortune I will strain a little, 
+For ‘tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter: 
+What you bestow, in him I'll counterpoise, 
+And make him weigh with her. 
+Old Ath. Most noble lord, 
+Pawn me to this your honour, she is his. 
+Tim. My hand to thee; mine honour on 
+my promise. 
+Luc. Humbly I thank your lordship: never 
+may 
+That state or fortune fall into my keeping, 150 
+Which is not owed to you! 
+[Exeunt Lucilius and Old Athenian. 
+Poet. Vouchsafe my labour, and long live 
+your lordship! 
+
+
+Tim. 1 thank you; you shall hear from 
+me anon: 
+Go not away. What have you there, my 
+friend? 
+Pain. A piece of painting, which I do be- 
+seech 
+
+
+Your lordship to accept. 
+
+Tim. Painting is welcome, 
+The painting is almost the natural man; 
+For since dishonour traffics with man’s nature, 
+He is but outside: these pencill’d figures are 
+Even such as they give out. I like your work; 
+And you shall find I like it: wait attendance 
+Till you hear further from me. 
+
+Pain. The gods preserve ye! 
+
+Tim. Well fare you, gentleman: give me 
+
+your hand; 
+
+
+TIMON OF ATHENS 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. ] 
+
+
+We must needs dine together. 
+Hath suffer’d under praise. 
+Jew. What, my lord! dispraise? 
+Tim. A mere satiety of commendations, 
+If I should pay you for’t as ‘tis extoll’d, 
+It would unclew me quite. 
+Jew. My lord, ‘tis rated 
+As those which sell would give: but you well 
+know, 
+Things of like value differing in the owners 
+Are ped by their masters: believe ’t, dear 
+ord, 
+You mend the jewel by the wearing it. 
+Tim. Well mock'd. 
+Mer. No, my good lord; he speaks the 
+common tongue, 
+Which all men speak with him. 
+Tim. Look, who comes here: will you be 
+
+
+chid? 
+
+
+Sir, your jewel 
+
+
+Enter APEMANTUS. 
+
+
+Jew. We'll bear, with your lordship. 
+Mer. He'll spare none. 
+Tim. Good morrow to thee, gentle Ape- 
+mantus! 
+Apem. Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy 
+good morrow; 
+When thou art Timon’s dog, and these knaves 
+honest. 180 
+Tim. Why dost thou call them knaves? 
+thou know’st them not. 
+Apem. Are they not Athenians? 
+Tim. Yes. 
+Apem. They I repent not. 
+Jew. You know me, Apemantus? 
+Apem. Thou know’st I do: I call’d thee by 
+thy name. 
+Tim. Thou art proud, Apemantus. 
+Apem. Of nothing so much as that I am 
+not like Timon. 
+Tim. Whither art going? 
+Apem. To knock out an honest Athenian’s 
+brains. 
+Tim. That's a deed thou ‘it die for. 
+Apem. Right, if doing nothing be death by 
+the law. 
+Tim. How likest thou this picture, Ape- 
+mantus ? 
+Apem. The best, for the innocence. 199 
+Tim. Wrought he not well that painted it? 
+Apem. He wrought better that made the 
+painter; and yet he’s but a filthy piece of 
+work. 
+Pain. You're a dog. 
+Apem. Thy mother’s of my generation! 
+what's she. if T be a dog? 
+Tim. Wilt dine with me, Apemantus? 
+Apem. No; I eat not lords. 
+
+
+190. 
+
+
+Act I, Sc, II] 
+
+
+TIMON OF ATHENS 
+
+
+923 
+
+
+Tim. An thou shouldst, thou ‘Idst anger 
+ladies. 
+
+Apem. O, they eat lords; so they come by 
+great bellies. 210 
+Tim. That's a lascivious apprehension. 
+
+_ Apem. So thou apprehendest it: take it for 
+
+thy labour. 
+
+Tim. How dost thou like this jewel, Ape- 
+mantus ? 
+
+Apem. Not so well as plain-dealing, which 
+will not cost a mana doit. 
+
+Tim. What dost thou think ‘tis worth? ° 
+
+Apem. Not worth my thinking. How now, 
+poet! 220 
+
+Poet. How now, philosopher! 
+
+Apem. Thou liest. 
+
+Poet. Art not one? 
+
+Apem. Yes. 
+
+Poet, Then I lie not. 
+
+Apem. Art not a poet? 
+
+Poet. Yes. 
+
+Apem. Then thou liest: look in thy last 
+work, where thou hast feigned him a worthy 
+fellow. 
+
+Poet. That’s not feigned; he is so. 230 
+
+Apem. Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to 
+pay thee for thy labour: he that loves to be 
+flattered is worthy o’ the flatterer. Heavens, 
+that I were a lord! 
+
+Tim. What wouldst do then, Apemantus? 
+
+Apem. E’en as Apemantus does now; hate 
+a lord with my heart. : 
+
+Tim. What, thyself? 
+
+Apem. Ay. 
+
+Tim. Wherefore? 240 
+
+_Apem. +That I’had no angry wit to be a 
+lord. Art not thou a merchant? 
+
+Mer. Ay, Apemantus. 
+
+Apem. Traffic confound thee, if the gods 
+will not! 
+
+Mer. If traffic do it, the gods do it. 
+
+Apem. Traffic ’s thy god; and thy god con- 
+
+found thee! 
+
+
+Trumpet sounds. 
+
+
+Tim. What trumpet ’s that? 
+Mess. “Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty horse, 
+All of companionship. 251 
+Tim. Pray, entertain them; give them guide 
+to us. [Exeunt some Attendants. 
+You must needs dine with me: go not you 
+hence 
+Till I have thank’d you: when dinner ’s done, 
+Show mae this piece, I am joyful of your sights. 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+Enter AvcipBiaDEs, with the rest. 
+
+
+Most welcome, sir! 
+Apem. So, so, there! 
+Aches contract and starve your supple joints! 
+
+
+That there should be small love ’mongst these 
+sweet knaves, 
+And all this courtesy! The strain of man's 
+
+bred out 
+Into baboon and monkey. 260 
+
+Alcib. Sir, you have saved my longing, and 
+
+I feed 
+Most hungerly on your sight. 
+
+im. Right welcome, sir! 
+Ere we depart, we ‘ll share a bounteous time 
+In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in. 
+
+[Exeunt all except Apemantus. 
+
+
+Enter two Lords. 
+First Lord, What time o’ day is't, Ape- 
+
+
+mantus > 
+Apem. Time to be honest. 
+First Lord. That time serves still. 
+Apem. The more accursed thou, that still 
+omitt’st it. 
+Sec, Lord. Thou art going to Lord Timon's 
+feast? 270 
+Apem. Ay, to see meat fill knaves and 
+wine heat fools, 
+Sec. Lord. Fare thee well, fare thee well. 
+Apem. Thou art a fool to bid me farewell 
+twice. 
+Sec. Lord. Why, Apemantus? 
+Apem. Shouldst have kept one to thyself, 
+for I mean to give thee none. 
+First Lord. Hang thyself! 
+Apem. No, I will do nothing at thy bid- 
+ding: make thy requests to thy friend. 
+Sec. Lord. Away, unpeaceable dog, or I ‘tl 
+spurn thee hence! 281 
+Apem. I will fly, like a dog, the heels o' 
+the ass. [Exit. 
+First Lord. He's opposite to humanity. 
+Come, shall we in, 
+And taste Lord Timon’s bounty ? he outgoes 
+The very heart of kindness, 
+Sec. Lord. He pours it out; Plutus, the 
+god of gold, 
+Is but his steward: no meed, but he repays 
+Sevenfold above itself; no gift to him, 
+But breeds the giver a return exceeding 
+All use of quittance. 
+First Lord. | The noblest mind he carries 
+That ever govern’d man. 
+Sec, Lord. Long may he live in fortunes! 
+Shall we in? 
+First Lord. \’ll keep you company. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+290 
+
+
+Scene II. A banqueting-room in Timon's 
+
+
+house. 
+Hauiboys playing loud music. A great banquet 
+served in; Fravius and others attending; 
+then enter Lorp Timon, AccipiabEs. Lords, 
+
+
+924 TIMON OF ATHENS [Acr I, Se, Il 
+
+
+I wonder men dare trust themselves with men: 
+Methinks they should invite them withou 
+knives; 
+
+Good for their meat, and safer for their lives. 
+There's much example for 't; the fellow that 
+sits next him now, parts bread with him, 
+pledges the breath of him ina divided dravght, 
+is the readiest man to kill him: ‘t has been 
+proved. If 1 were a huge man, I should fear 
+to drink at meals; 
+
+Lest they should spy my windpipe’s dangerous 
+
+
+Senators, and WENTIDIUS. Then comes, 
+dropping after all, APEMANTUS, discon- 
+tentedly, like himself. 
+
+
+Ven. Most honour’d Timon, 
+It hath pleased the’ gods to remember my 
+father’s age, 
+And call him to long peace. 
+He is gone happy, and has left me rich: 
+Then, as in grateful virtue I am bound 
+To your free heart, I do return those talents, 
+
+
+Doubled with thanks and service, from whose notes: 
+help Great men should drink with harness on their 
+I derived liberty. throats. 
+Tim. O, by no means, Tim. My lord, in heart; and let the health 
+Honest Ventidius; you mistake my love: go round. 
+
+
+a, nie Let it flow this way, my good 
+ord. 
+
+Apem. Flow this way! A brave fellow! he 
+keeps his tides well. Those healths will make 
+thee and thy state look ill, Timon. Here's that 
+which is too weak to be a sinner, honest water, 
+
+
+I gave it freely ever; and there's none 
+Can truly say he gives, if he receives: 
+If our betters play at that game, we must not 
+dare 
+To imitate them; faults that are rich are fair. 
+Ven. A noble spirit! 
+
+
+Tim. Nay, my lords, which ne’er left man i’ the mire: 
+[They all stand ceremoniously looking This and my food are equals; there *s no odds; 
+on Timon. | Feasts are too proud to give thanks to the gods. 
+
+
+Ceremony was but devised at first 
+
+To set a gloss on faint deeds, hollow welcomes, 
+
+Recanting goodness, sorry ere ‘tis shown; 
+
+But where there is true friendship, there needs 
+none. 
+
+
+Apemantus’ grace. 
+Immortal gods, I crave no pelf; 
+I pray for no man but myself: 
+Grant I may never prove so fond, 
+
+
+Pray, sit; more welcome are ye to my fortunes To trust man on his oath or bond; 
+
+Than my fortunes to me. [They sit. 20 Or a harlat, for her weeping; 
+
+First Lord. My lord, we always have con- Or a dog, that seems a-sleeping; 
+fess'dit Or my friends, if I should need ‘em. 70 
+
+
+Amen. So fall tot: 
+Rich men sin, and I eat root. 
+[Eats and drinks. 
+Much good jdich thy good heart, Apemantus! 
+
+Tim. Captain Alcibiades, your heart's in 
+the field now. 
+soe My heart is ever at your service, my 
+ord. 
+
+Tim. You had rather be at a breakfast of 
+enemies than a dinner of friends. 79 
+
+Alcib. So they were bleeding-new, my lord, 
+there's no meat like ‘em: I could wish my 
+best friend at such a feast. ” ‘ 
+
+Apem. Would all those flatterers were thine 
+enemies then, that then thou mightst kill “em 
+and bid me to ‘em! 
+
+First Lord. Might we but have that happi- 
+ness, my lord, that you would once use our 
+hearts, whereby we might express some part of 
+our zeals, we should think ourselves for ever 
+perfect. 
+
+Tim. O, no doubt, my good friends, but the 
+gods themselves have provided that I shall have 
+much help from you: how had you been my 
+friends else? why have you that charitable title 
+
+
+Apem. Ho, ho, confess’d it! hang'd it, 
+
+have you not? 
+
+Tim. O, Apemantus, you are welcome. 
+
+Apem. No; 
+You shall not make me welcome: 
+
+I come to have thee thrust me out of doors. 
+
+Tim. Fie, thou'rt a churl; ye'’ve got a 
+
+humour there 
+Does not become a man; “tis much to blame. 
+They say, my lords, ‘ira furor brevis est;” but 
+yond man is ever angry. Go, let him have a 
+table by himself, for he does neither affect 
+company, nor is he fit fort, indeed. 31 
+
+Apem. Let me stay at thine apperil, Timon: 
+I come to observe; I give thee warning on 't. 
+
+Tim. | take no heed of thee; thou ‘rt an 
+Athenian, therefore welcome: I myself would 
+have no power; prithee, let my meat make 
+thee silent. 
+
+Apem. I scorn thy meat; ‘twould choke 
+me, for I should ne'er flatter thee. O you gods, 
+what a number of men eat Timon, and he sees 
+"emnot! It grieves me to see so many dip their 
+meat in one man’s blood; and all the madness 
+is, he cheers them up too. 
+
+
+‘Act I, Sc. I] 
+
+
+from thousands, did not you chiefly belong to 
+my heart? I have told more of you to myself 
+than you can with modesty speak in your own 
+behalf; and thus far I confirm you. O you 
+gods, think I, what need we have any friends, 
+if we should ne’er have need of ‘em? they were 
+the most needless creatures living, should we 
+ne'er have use for ‘em, and would most re- 
+semble sweet instruments hung up in cases 
+that keep their sounds to themselves. Why, 
+I have often wished myself poorer, that I might 
+come nearer to you. We are born to do bene- 
+fits: and what better or properer can we call 
+our own than the riches of our friends? O, 
+what a precious comfort ’tis, to have so many, 
+like brothers, commanding one another's for- 
+tunes! O joy, een made away ere 't can be 
+born! Mine eyes cannot hold out water, me- 
+~ thinks: to forget their faults, I drink to you. 
+
+Apem. Thou weepest to make them drink, 
+Timon. 
+
+Sec, Lord. Joy had the like conception in 
+
+our eyes 
+
+And at that instant like a babe sprung up. 
+
+Apem. Ho, ho! I laugh to think that babe 
+
+, a bastard. 
+Third Lord. 1 promise you, my lord, you 
+
+
+moved me much. 
+[Tucket, vithin, 
+
+
+Apem. Much! 
+Tim. What means that trump? 
+
+
+Enter a Servant. 
+
+
+j How now? 
+
+Serv. Please you, my lord, there are certain 
+ladies most desirous of admittance. 
+
+Tim. Ladies! what are their wills? 
+
+Serv. Therc comes with them a forerunner, 
+my lord, which bears that office, to signify 
+their pleasures. 
+
+Tim. J pray, let them be admitted. 
+
+
+Enter Cupip. 
+
+
+Cup. Hail to thee, worthy Timon, and to all 
+That of his bounties taste! The five hest senses 
+Acknowledge thee their patron; and come 
+
+freely 130 
+To gratulate thy plenteous bosom: th’ ear, 
+Taste, touch and smell, pleased from thy 
+table xise; 
+They only now come but to feast thine eyes. 
+Tim. They ‘re welcome all; let ’em have 
+kind admittance: 
+Music, make their welcome! [Exit Cupid. 
+
+First Lord. You see, my lord, how ample 
+
+you re beloved. 
+
+
+Music. Re-enter Cupiw, with a mash of 
+Ladies as Amazons, with lutes in their 
+hands, dancing and playing. 
+
+
+, 
+
+
+TIMON OF ATHENS 
+
+
+925 
+SEES EE A BE ie ee EE, 
+Apem. Hoy-day, what a sweep of vanity 
+comes this way! 
+They dance! they are mad women. 
+Like madness is the glory of this life, 
+As this pomp shows to a little oil and root, 140 
+e make ourselves fools, to disport ourselves; 
+And spend our flatteries, to drink those men 
+Upon whose age we void it up again, 
+With poisonous spite and envy. 
+Who lives that's not depraved or depraves ? 
+Who dies, that bears not onz spurn to theix 
+graves 
+Of their friends’ gift? 
+I should fear those that dance before me now 
+Would one day stamp upon me: ‘t has been 
+done; 
+Men shut their doors against a setting sun, 150 
+
+
+The Lords rise from table, with much adoring 
+of TiMON; and to show their loves, each 
+singles out an Amazon, and all dance, men 
+with women, a lofty strain or two to the 
+hautboys, and cease. 
+
+
+Tim. You have done our pleasures much 
+grace, fair ladies, 
+Set a fair fashion on our entertaiment, 
+Which was not half so beautiful and kind; 
+You have added worth unto ’t and lustre, 
+And entertain’d me with mine own device; 
+I am to thank you for 't. 
+First Lady. My lord, you take us even at 
+the best. 
+Apem.: 'Faith, for the worst is filthy; and 
+would not hold taking, I doubt me. 
+Tim. Ladies, there is an idle banquet at- 
+tends you: 160 
+lease you to dispose yourselves. 
+All Ladies. Most thankfully, my lord, 
+[Exeunt Cupid and Ladies, 
+
+
+Tim. Flavius. 
+Flav. My lord? 
+Tim. The little casket bring me hither, 
+
+
+Flav. Yes,my lord. More jewels yet! [Aside. 
+There is no crossing him in's humour; 
+Else I should tell him,—well, i’ faith, I should, 
+When all’s spent, he ‘ld be cross’d then, an 
+he could. 4 
+‘Tis pity bounty had not eyes behind 
+
+
+That man might ne’er be wretched for his mind. 
+
+
+(Exit. 
+
+First Lord. Where be our men? 171 
+Serv. Here, my lord, in readiness. 
+Sec. Lord. Our horses! 
+Re-enter Fiavius, with the cashet. 
+
+Tim. O my friends, 
+[ have one word to say to you: look you, my 
+
+good lord, 
+
+I must entreat you, honour me so much 
+
+
+926 
+
+
+TIMON OF ATHENS 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. IP 
+
+
+a Se 
+
+
+As to advance this jewel; accept it and wear 
+
+
+it, 
+Kind my lord. 
+First Lord. I am so far already in your 
+gifts,— 
+All. So are we all. 
+
+
+Enter a Servant. 
+
+
+Serv. My lord, there are certain nobles of 
+the senate 180 
+Newly alighted, and come to visit you. 
+Tim. They are fairly welcome. 
+Flay. I beseech your honour, 
+Vouchsafe me a word; it does concern younear. 
+Tim. Near! why then, another time I ‘Il 
+hear thee: 
+I prithee, lets be provided to show the enter- 
+tainment. 
+
+
+Flav. [Aside] | scarce know how. 
+Enter a second Servant. 
+
+
+Sec. Serv. May it please your honour, 
+Lord Lucius, 
+Out of his free love, hath presented to you 
+Four milk-white horses, trapp’d in silver. 
+Tim. | shall accept them fairly; let the 
+presents 190 
+Be worthily entertain'd. 
+
+
+Enter a third Servant. 
+
+
+How now! what news? 
+Third Serv. Pleaseyou, my lord, thathonour- 
+able gentleman, Lord Lucullus, entreats your 
+company to-morrow to hunt with him, and has 
+sent your honour two brace of greyhounds. 
+Tim. I'll hunt with him; and let them be 
+received, 
+Not without fair reward. 
+Flav. [Aside] What will this come to? 
+He commands us to provide, and give great 
+gifts, 
+And all out of an empty coffer: 
+Nor will he know his purse, or yield me this, 
+To show him what a beggar his heart is, 201 
+Being of no power to make his wishes good: 
+His promises fly so beyond his state 
+That what he speaks is all in debt; he owes 
+For every word; he is so kind that he now 
+Pays interest fort; his land's put to their 
+books. 
+‘Well, would I were gently put out of office 
+Before I were forced out! 
+Happier is he that has no friend to feed 
+Than such that do e’en enemies exceed. 210 
+1 bleed inwardly for my lord. [Exit. 
+Tim. You do yourselves 
+Much wrong, you bate too much of your own 
+merits: 
+Here, my lord, a trifle of our love. 
+
+
+Sec. Lord. With more than common thanks 
+I will receive it. 
+
+Third Lord. O, he's the-very soul of bounty! 
+
+Tim. And now I remember, my lord, you 
+gave 
+
+
+Good words the other day of a bay courser 
+
+
+I rode on: it is yours, because you liked it. 
+Sec. Lord. O, 1 beseech you, pardon me, 
+my lord, in that. 
+Tim. You may take my word, my lord; 
+I know, no man 220 
+Can justly praise but what he does affect: 
+I weigh my friend’s affection with mine own; 
+I'll tell you true. I'll call to you. 
+All Lords. O, none so welcome. 
+Tim. I take all and your several visitations 
+So kind to heart, ‘tis not enough to give; 
+Methinks, I could deal kingdoms to my friends, 
+And ne'er be weary. Alcibiades, 
+Thou art a soldier, therefore seldom rich: 
+It comes in charity to thee: for all thy living 
+Is '‘mongst the dead, and all the lands thou hast 
+Lie in a pitch’d field. 
+
+
+Alcib. Ay, defiled land, my lord. 
+
+First Lord. We are so virtuously bound— 
+
+Tim. And so 
+Am I to you. 
+
+
+Sec. Lord. So infinitely endear’'d— 
+Tim. All to you. Lights, more lights! 
+First Lord. The best of happiness, 
+Honour and fortunes, keep with you, Lord 
+Timon! | 
+Tim. Ready for his friends. 
+[Exeunt all but Apemantus and Timon. 
+Apem. What a coil ’s here! 
+Serving of becks and jutting-out of bums! 
+I doubt whether their legs be worth the sums 
+That are given for “em. Friendship 's full of 
+dregs: : 
+Methinks; false hearts 
+
+
+sound legs. 
+
+
+should never have 
+
+
+‘Thus honest fools lay out their wealth on 
+
+
+court'sies. 
+Tim. Now, Apemantus, if thou wert not 
+sullen, 
+I would be good to thee. 
+
+Apem. No, I'll nothing: for if I should be 
+bribed too, there would be none left to rail 
+upon thee, and then thou wouldst sin the faster. 
+Thou givest so long, Timon, | fear me thou 
+wilt give away thyself in paper shortly: what 
+need these feasts, pomps and vain-glories? 249 
+
+Tim. Nay, an you begin to rail on society 
+once, I am sworn not to give regard to you. 
+Farewell; and come with better music, [Exit. 
+
+Apem. So: 
+
+Thou wilt not hear me now; thcu shalt not — 
+
+
+then: 
+I'll lock thy heaven from thee. 
+
+
+= Ask nothing, give it him, 
+
+
+Acr Il, Sc. II] 
+
+
+O, that men’s ears should be 
+To counsel deaf, but not to flattery ! 
+
+
+ACT II. 
+
+
+Scene I. A Senator's house. 
+Enter Senator, with papers in his hand. 
+
+
+[Exit, 
+
+
+Sen. And late, five thousand: to Varro and 
+to Isidore 
+He owes nine thousand; besides my former 
+sum, 
+Which makes it five and twenty. Still in 
+motion 
+
+
+Of raging waste? It cannot hold; it will not. 
+If I want gold, steal but a beggar’s dog, 
+And give it Timon, why, the dog coins gold. 
+If I would sell my horse, and buy twenty more 
+Better than he, why, give my horse to Timon, 
+it foals me, straight, 
+And able horses. No porter at his gate, 10 
+But rather one that smiles and still invites 
+All that pass by. It cannot hold; no reason 
+Can found his state in safety. Caphis, ho! 
+Caphis, I say! 
+Enter Capuis. 
+Caph. Here, sir; what is your pleasure ? 
+Sen. Get on your cloak, and haste you to 
+Lord Timon; 
+
+Importune him for my moneys; be not ceased 
+With slight denial, nor then silenced when— 
+‘Commend me to your master'—and the cap 
+Plays in the right hand, thus: but tell him, 
+My uses cry to me, I must serve my turn 20 
+Out of mine own; his days and times are past 
+And my reliances on his fracted dates 
+Have smit my credit: I love and honour him, 
+But must not break my back to heal his finger ; 
+Immediate are my needs, and my relief 
+Must not be toss’d and turn’d to me in words, 
+But find supply immediate. Get you gone: 
+Put on a most importunate aspect, 
+A visage of demand! for, I do fear, 
+
+hen every feather sucks in his own wing, 
+Lord Timon will be left a naked gull, 31 
+Which flashes now a pheenix. Get you gone, 
+_ Caph. I go, sir. 
+
+Sen. ‘I go, sirl’—Take the bonds along 
+
+
+with you, 
+And have the dates in compt. 
+Caph. I will, sir. 
+Sen. Go. [Exeunt. 
+Scene II. The same. A hall in Timon’s 
+
+
+ouse, 
+Enter Fiavius, with many bills in his hand. 
+Flavius. No care, no stop! so senseless of 
+expense, 
+That he will neither know how to maintain it, 
+Nor cease his flow of riot: takes no account 
+
+
+‘TIMON OF ATHENS 
+
+
+927 
+
+
+How things go from him, nor resumes no care 
+
+Of what is to continue: never mind 
+
+Was to be so unwise. to be so kind. 
+
+What shall be done? he will not hear, til} 
+feel: 
+
+I must be round with him, now he comes from 
+
+
+hunting, 
+Fie, fie, fie, fie! 
+Enter Capuis, and the Servants of IstporE 
+and Varro. 
+Caph. Good even, Varro: what, 
+
+
+You come for money > 
+Var. Serv. Ist not your business too? 10 
+Caph. It is: and yours too, Isidore? 
+Isid. Serv. It is so. 
+Caph. Would we were all discharged! 
+Var. Serv. I fear it. 
+Caph. Here comes the lord, 
+
+
+Enter Timon, ALcIBIADES, and Lords, &c. 
+
+
+Tim. So soon as dinner’s done, we Tl 
+forth again, 
+
+My Alcibiades. With me? what is your will? 
+
+Caph. My lord, here is a note of certain 
+
+
+dues. 
+Tim. Dues! Whence are you? 
+Caph, Of Athens here, my lord. 
+
+
+Tim. Go to my steward. 
+Caph. Please it your lordship, he hath put 
+me off 
+To the succession of -new days this month: 2¢ 
+My master is awaked by great occasion 
+To call upon his own, and humbly prays 
+you 
+That with your other noble parts you ‘Il suit 
+In giving him his right. 
+im. Mine honest friend, 
+I prithee, but repair to me next morning. 
+Caph. Nay, good my lord,— 
+Tim. Contain thyself, good friend. 
+Var, Serv. One Varro’s servant, my good 
+lord,— 
+Isid. Serv. From Isidore; 
+He humbly prays your speedy payment. 
+Caph. If you did know, my lord, my 
+master’s wants— 
+Var. Serv. "Twas due on forfeiture, my 
+
+
+lord, six weeks 30 
+And past. 
+
+Isid. Serv. Your steward puts me off, my 
+lord; 
+
+
+And I am sent expressly to your lordship. 
+Tim. Give me breath. 
+I do beseech you, good my lords, keep on; 
+I Tl wait upon you instantly. 
+[Exeunt Alcibiades and Lords, 
+[To Flav.} Come hither: pray yeu, 
+How goes the world? that I am thus encounter’d 
+
+
+928 
+
+
+With clamorous demands of date-broke bonds, 
+And the detention of long-since-due debts, 
+Against my honour? 
+
+Flav. Please you, gentlemen, 40 
+The time is unagreeable to this business: 
+Your importunacy cease till after dinner, 
+That I may make his lordship understand 
+Wherefore you are not paid. 
+
+Tim. Do so, my friends. See them well 
+
+entertain'd. [Exit. 
+Flav. Pray, draw near. [ Exit, 
+
+
+Enter ApEMANTUS and Fool. 
+
+
+Caph. Stay, stay, here comes the fool with 
+Apemantus: let’s ha’ some sport with ‘em. 
+
+Var. Serv. Hang him, he'll abuse us. 
+
+Isid. Serv. A plague upon him, dog! 50 
+
+Var, Serv. How dost, fool? f 
+
+Apem. Dost dialogue with thy shadow > 
+
+Var, Serv. I speak not to thee. 
+
+Apem. No, ‘tis to thyself. [To the Fool] 
+Come away. 
+
+Isid, Serv. There's the fool hangs on your 
+back already. 
+
+Apem. No, thou stand’st single, thou ‘rt not 
+
+on him yet. 
+
+Caph. Where’s the fool now? 59 
+
+Apem. He last asked the question. Poor 
+rogues, and usurers’ men! bawds between gold 
+and want! 
+
+All Serv. What are we, Apemantus? 
+
+Apem. Asses, 
+
+All Serv. Why? 
+
+Apem. That you ask me what you are, and 
+do not know yourselves. Speak to ‘em, fool. 
+
+Fool. How do you, gentlemen? 
+
+All Serv. Gramercies, good fool: how does 
+your mistress? 
+
+Fool. She's e’en setting on water to scald 
+such chickens as you are. Would we could 
+see you at Corinth! 
+
+Apem, Good! gramercy. 
+
+
+Enter Page. 
+Fool. Look you, here comes my mistress’ 
+
+
+page. 
+
+Page. [To the Fool] Why, how now, cap- 
+tain! what do you in this wise company? 
+How dost thou, Apemantus ? 
+
+Apem. Would | had’ a rod in my mouth. 
+that I might. answer thee profitably. 80 
+
+Page. Prithee, Apemantus, read me the 
+superscription of these letters: I know not 
+which is which. 
+
+Apem. Canst not read? 
+
+Page. No. 
+
+Apem. There will little learning die then. 
+that day thou art hanged. This is to Lord 
+Timon; this to Alcibiades. Go; thou wast 
+
+
+born a bastard, and thou't die a bawd. 89 
+
+
+TIMON OF ATHENS 
+
+
+[Acr Il, Sc. I 
+
+
+Page. Thou wast whelped a dog, and thou 
+
+
+shalt famish a dog’s death. Answer not; | am 
+gone. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+Apem. E’en so thou outrunnest grace. Fool, 
+I will go with you to Lord Timon’s. 
+Fool. Will you leave me there? 
+Apem. If Timon stay at home. You three 
+
+
+serve three usurers ? 
+
+
+All Serv. Ay; would they served us! 
+Apem. So would I,—as good a trick as 
+
+
+ever hangman served thief. 
+
+
+Fool. Are you three usurers’ men? 
+All Serv. Ay, fool. 
+
+
+Fool. | think no usurer but has a fool to 
+
+
+his servant: my mistress is one, and I am her 
+fool. 
+masters, they approach sadly, and go away 
+merry; but they enter my mistress’ house 
+merrily, and go away sadly: the reason of 
+this? 
+
+
+When men come to borrow of your 
+
+
+Var. Serv. I could render one. 109 
+Apem. Do it then, that we may account 
+thee a whoremaster and a knave; which not- 
+
+
+withstanding, thou shalt be no less esteemed. 
+
+
+Var. Serv. What is a whoremaster, fool? 
+
+Fool. A fool in good clothes, and some- 
+thing like thee. "Tis a spirit: sometime ‘t ap- 
+pears like a lord; sometime like a lawyer; 
+sometime like a philosopher, with two stones 
+moe than's artificial one: he is very often like 
+a knight; and, generally, in all shapes that 
+man goes up and down in from fourscore to 
+thirteen, this spirit walks in. 
+
+Var. Serv. Thou art not altogether a fool. 
+
+Fool. Nor thou altogether a wise man: as 
+much foolery as I have, so much wit thou 
+lackest. 
+
+Apem. That answer might have become 
+Apemantus. 
+
+All Serv. Aside, aside; 
+
+
+Timon, 
+
+
+here comes Lord 
+
+
+Re-enter Timon and FLavius. 
+
+
+Apem. Come with me, fool, come. 
+Fool. I do not always follow lover, elder 
+brother and woman; sometime the philo- 
+sopher. [Exeunt Apemantus and Fool. 
+Flav. Pray you, walk near: I'll speak with 
+you anon. [Exeunt Servants, 
+Tim. You make me marvel: wherefore ere 
+this time 
+Had you not fully laid my state before me, 
+That I might so have rated my expense, 
+As I had leave of means? 
+Flay. You would not hear me, 
+At many leisures I proposed. 
+Tim. Go to: 
+Perchance some single vantages you took, 
+When my indisposition put you back; 
+
+
++a) 
+
+
+Act II, Sc. I] 
+
+
+TIMON OF ATHENS 
+
+
+929 
+
+
+140 
+
+
+And that unaptness made your minister, 
+Thus to excuse yourself. 
+
+Flay, O my good lord, 
+At many times I brought in my accounts, 
+Laid them before you; you would throw them 
+
+off, 
+And say, you found them in mine honesty. 
+When, for some trifling present, you have bid 
+
+
+me 
+
+Return so much, I have shook my head and 
+wept; 
+
+Yea, "gainst the authority of manners, pray'd 
+you 
+
+
+To hold your hand more close: I did endure 
+Not seldom, nor no slight checks, when I have 
+Prompted you in the ebb of your estate 150 
+And your great flow of debts. My loved lord, 
++Though you hear now, too late—yet now’s a 
+time— 
+The greatest of your having lacks a half 
+To pay your present debts. 
+im. Let all my land be sold. 
+Flav. ‘Tis all engaged, some forfeited and 
+gone; 
+And what remains will hardly stop the mouth 
+Of present dues: the future comes apace: 
+What shall defend the interim? and at length 
+How goes our reckoning ? 
+Tim. To Lacedemon did my land extend. 
+Flav. O my good lord, the world is but a 
+word: “ 161 
+Were it all yours to give it in a breath, 
+How quickly were it gone! 
+Tim. You tell me true. 
+Flay. If you suspect my husbandry or 
+falsehood, 
+Call me before the exactest auditors 
+And set me on the proof. So the gods bless me, 
+When all our offices have been oppress’d 
+With riotous feeders, when our vaults have 
+wept 
+With drunken spilth of wine, when every room 
+Hath blazed with lights and bray’d with min- 
+strelsy, 170 
+I have retired me to a wasteful cock, : 
+And set mine eyes at flow. 
+Tim. Prithee, no more. 
+Flav. Heavens, have | said, the bounty of 
+this lord! 
+How many prodigal bits have slaves and 
+peasants 
+This night englutted! Who is not Timon’s? 
+What heart, head, sword, force, means, but is 
+Lord Timon's? 
+Great Timon, noble, worthy, royal Timon! 
+Ah, when the means are gone that buv this 
+- praise, 
+The breath is gone whereof this praise is 
+made: 
+
+
+of winter 
+
+
+180 
+
+
+Feast-won, fast-lost; one cloud 
+showers, 
+These flies are couch’d. 
+
+Tim. Come, sermon me no further: 
+No villanous bounty yet hath pass’d my heart; 
+Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given. 
+
+Why dost thou weep? Canst thou the con- 
+science lack, 
+To think I shall lack friends? Secure thy heart; 
+If I would broach the vessels of my love, 
+And try the argument of hearts by borrowing, 
+Men and men’s fortunes could I frankly use 
+As I can bid thee speak. 
+Flav, Assurance bless your thoughts! 
+Tim. And, in some sort, these wants of 
+mine are  crown’d, 190 
+That I account them blessings; for by these 
+Shall I try friends: you shall perceive how you 
+Mistake my fortunes; I am wealthy in my 
+friends. 
+
+
+Within there! 
+
+
+Enter Fiaminius, Servitius, and other 
+Servants. 
+
+
+Servants. My lord? my lord? 
+
+Tim. I will dispatch you severally; you to 
+Lord Lucius; to Lord Lucullus you: I hunted 
+with his honour to-day: you, to Sempronius: 
+commend me to their loves, and, I am proud, 
+say, that my occasions have found time to use 
+“em toward a supply of money: let the request 
+be fifty talents. 
+
+Flam. As you have said, my lord. 
+
+Flav. [Aside] Lord Lucius and Lucullus? 
+
+hum! 
+
+Tim. Go you, sir, to the senators— 
+
+Of whom, even to the state’s best health, I have 
+
+Deserved this hearing—bid ‘em send o’ the 
+instant 
+
+A thousand talents to me. 
+
+Flay. I have been bold— 
+For that I knew it the most general way— 209 
+To them to use your signet and your name; 
+But they do shake their heads, and I am here 
+No richer in return. 
+
+
+Flaminius! Servilius! 
+
+
+Tim. Ist true? can 't be? 
+Flav, They answer, in a joint and corpor- 
+ate voice, 
+That now they are at fall, want treasure, can- 
+not 
+Do what they would; are sorry—you are hon- 
+ourable,— 
+But yet they could have wish’'d—they know 
+not— 
+
+
+Something hath been amiss—a noble nature 
+May catch a wrench—would all were well— 
+‘us pity ;— ‘ 
+And so, intending other serious matters, 219 
+After distasteful looxs and these hard factions, 
+
+
+930 
+
+
+TIMON OF ATHENS 
+
+
+[Acr II, Sc. It 
+
+
+With certain half-caps and cold-moving nods 
+They froze me into silence. 
+
+Tim. You gods, reward them! 
+Prithee, man, look cheerly. These old fellows 
+Have their ingratitude in them hereditary: 
+Their blood is caked, ’tis cold, it seldom flows; 
+*Tis lack of kindly warmth they are not kind; 
+And nature, as it grows again toward earth, 
+Is fashion’d for the journey, dull and heavy. 
+[To a Serv.] Go to Ventidius. [To Flav.] 
+
+Prithee, be not sad, 
+Thou art true and honest; ingeniously I speak, 
+No blame belongs to thee. [To Ser.] Venti- 
+dius lately 231 
+Buried his father; by whose death he’s stepp’d 
+Into a great estate: when he was poor, 
+Imprison’d and in scarcity of friends, 
+1 clear’d him with five talents: greet him from 
+me; 
+Bid him suppose some good necessity 
+Touches his friend, which craves to be remem- 
+
+
+ber’d 
+With those five talents [Exit Ser.]. [To Flav.] 
+That had, give’t these fellows 
+To whom ‘tis instant due. Ne’er speak, or 
+think, 
+That Timon's fortunes ’mong his friends can 
+sink, ; 240 
+Flav. 1 would I could not think it: that 
+thought is bounty’s foe; 
+Being free itself, it thinks all others so. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT III. 
+
+
+Scene I, A room in Lucullus’ house. 
+Fuaminius waiting. Enter a Servant to him. 
+
+
+Serv. I have told my lord of you; he is 
+coming down to you. 
+Flam. I thank you, sir. 
+
+
+Enter LucuLtus, 
+
+
+Serv. Here's my lord. 
+
+Lucul. [Aside] One of Lord Timon’s men? 
+a gift, warrant. Why, this hits right; I dreamt 
+of a silver basin and ewer to-night. Flaminius, 
+honest Flaminius; you are very respectively 
+welcome, sir. Fill me some wine. [Exit Ser- 
+vant.| And how does that honourable, com- 
+plete, free-hearted gentleman of Athens, thy 
+very bountiful good lord and master? 11 
+« Flam. His health is well, sir. 
+
+Lucul. 1 am right glad that his health is 
+well, sir: and what hast thou there under thy 
+cloak, pretty Flaminius ? 
+
+Flam. ‘Faith, nothing but an empty box, 
+sir; which, in my lord's behalf, I come to en- 
+treat your honour to supply; who, having great 
+and instant occasion to use fifty talents, hath 
+
+
+sent to your lordship to furnish him, nothing 
+doubting your presert assistance therein. 2] 
+
+Luc. La, la, la, la! ‘nothing doubting,’ 
+says he? Alas, good lord! a noble gentleman 
+tis, if he would not keep so good a house. 
+Many a time and often | ha’ dined with him, 
+and told him on’t, and come again to supper 
+to him, of purpose to have him spend less, and 
+yet he would embrace no counsel, take no 
+warning by my coming. Every man has his 
+fault, and honesty is his: I ha’ told him on’t, 
+but I could ne'er get him from 't. 31 
+
+
+Re-enter Servant, with wine. 
+
+
+Serv. Please your lordship, here is the wine, 
+Lucul. Flaminius, I have noted thee al- 
+ways wise. Here’s to thee. 
+Flam. Your lordship speaks your pleasure. 
+Lucul. I have observed thee always for a 
+towardly prompt spirit—give thee thy due—and 
+one that knows what belongs to reason; and 
+canst use the time well, if the time use thee 
+well: good parts in thee. [To Serv.] Get you 
+gone, sirrah [Exit Serv.]. Draw nearer, honest 
+Flaminius. Thy lord's a bountiful gentleman: 
+but thou art wise; and thou knowest well 
+enough, although thou comest to me, that this 
+is no time to lend money, especially upon bare 
+friendship, without security. Here's three soli- 
+dares for thee: good boy, wink at me, and say 
+thou sawest me not. Fare thee well. 
+Flam. Is’t possible the world should so 
+much differ,+ ; 
+And we alive that lived? Fly, damned base- 
+ness, 50 
+To him that worships thee! 
+[Throwing the money back. 
+Lucul. Ha! now I see thou art a fool, and 
+fit for thy master. [Exit, 
+Flam. May these add to the number that 
+may scald thee! 
+Let molten coin be thy damnation, 
+Thou disease of a friend, and not himself! 
+Has friendship such a faint and milky heart, 
+It turns in less than two nights? O you gods, 
+I feel my master’s passion! this slave, 59 
+Unto his honour, has my lord’s meat in him: 
+Why should it thrive and turn to nutriment, 
+When he is turn’d to poison? 
+O, may disease only work upon’t! 
+
+
+And, when he’s sick to death, let not that ‘ 
+
+
+part of nature 
+Which my lord paid for, be of any power 
+To expel sickness, but prolong his hour! 
+[Exit, 
+Scene Il. A public place. 
+
+
+Enter Lucius, with three Strangers. 
+
+
+Luc. Who, the Lord Timon? he is my very 
+good friend, and an honourable gentleman. 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+q 
+
+
+‘Act III, Sc. HII] 
+
+
+TIMON OF ATHENS 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+931 
+
+
+First Siran. We know him for no less, 
+though we are but strangers to him. But I can 
+tell you one thing, my lord, and which I hear 
+from common rumours: now Lord Timon’s 
+happy hours are done and past, and his estate 
+shrinks from him. 
+
+Luc. Fie, no, do not believe it; he cannot 
+want for money. 10 
+
+Sec. Stran. But believe you this, my lord, 
+that, not long ago, one of his men was with the 
+Lord Lucullus to borrow so many talents, nay, 
+urged extremely for ’t and showed what neces- 
+sity belonged tot, and yet was denied. 
+
+Luc. How! 
+
+Sec. Stran. I tell you, denied, my lord. 
+
+Luc. What a strange case was that! now, 
+before the gods, I am ashamed on’t. Denied 
+that honourable man! there was very little hon- 
+our showed in’t. For my own part, I must 
+needs confess, I have received some small kind- 
+messes from him, as money, plate, jewels and 
+such-like trifles, nothing comparing to his; yet, 
+had he mistook him and sent to me, | should 
+ne'er have denied his occasion so many talents. 
+
+
+Enter SERVILIUs. 
+
+
+Ser. See, by good hap, yonder ’s my lord; 
+I have sweat to see his honour. My honoured 
+lord, — (Lucius. 
+
+Luc. Servilius! you are kindly met, sir. 
+Fare thee well: commend me to thy honour- 
+able virtuous lord, my very exquisite friend. 
+
+Ser. May it please your honour, my lord 
+hath sent— 
+
+Luc. Ha! what has he sent? I am so much 
+endeared to that lord; he’s ever sending: how 
+shall I thank him, thinkest thou? And what 
+has he sent now > 
+
+Ser. Has only sent his present occasion 
+now, my lord; requesting your lordship to sup- 
+
+
+ply his instant use with so many talents. 4 
+Luc. | know his lordship is but merry with 
+me; 
+
+
++He cannot want fifty five. hundred talents. 
+Ser. But in the mean time he wants less, 
+my lord. 
+If his occasior. were not virtuous, 
+I should not urge it half so faithfully. 
+
+Luc. Dost thou speak seriously, Servillius? 
+
+Ser. Upon my soul, ’tis true, sir. 
+
+Luc. What awicked beastwas I to disfurnish 
+myself against such a good time, when I mizht 
+ha’ shown myself honourable! how unluckily 
+it happened, that I should purchase the day 
+before for a little part, and undo a great deal 
+of honour! Servilius, now, before the gods, I 
+am not able to do,—the more beast, I say:—I 
+was sending to use Lord Timon myself, these 
+gentlemen can witness; but I would not, for 
+
+
+ra 
+
+
+the wealth of Athens, I had done ’t now. Com- 
+mend me bountifully to his good lordship; 
+and | hope his honour will conceive the 
+fairest of me, because I have no power to be 
+kind: and tell him this from me, I count it 
+one of my greatest afflictions, say, that I can- 
+not pleasure such an honourable gentleman. 
+Good Servilius, will you befriend me so far, 
+as fo use mine own words to him? 
+Ser. Yes, sir, I shall. 
+Luc. I'll look you out a good turn, Ser- 
+vilius. [Exit Servilius. 
+True, as you said, Simon is shrunk indeed; 
+And he that’s once denied will hardly speed. 
+[Exit. 
+First Stran, Do you observe this, Hostilius? 
+Sec. Stran. Why, this is the world’s soul; 
+and just of the same piece 
+Is every flatterer’s spirit. Who can call him 
+His friend that dips in the same dish? for, in 
+My knowing, Timon has been this lord's father, 
+And kept his credit with his purse, 
+Supported his estate; nay, Timon’s money 
+Has paid his men their wages: he ne'er drinks, 
+But Timon’s silver treads upon his lip; 
+And yet—O, see the monstrousness of man 
+When he looks out in an ungrateful shape! — 
+He does deny him, in respect of his, 81 
+What charitable men afford to beggars. 
+Third Stran. Religion groans at it. 
+First Stran. For mine own part, 
+I never tasted Timon in my life, 
+Nor came any of his bounties over me, 
+To mark me for his friend; yet, I protest, 
+For his right noble mind, illustrious virtue 
+And honourable carriage, 
+Had his necessity made use of me, 
+I would have put my wealth into donation, 90 
+And the best half should have return'd to him, 
+So much I love his heart: but, I perceive, 
+Men must learn now with pity to dispense: 
+For policy sits above conscience. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. A room in Sempronius’ house. 
+Enter SEMpPRONIUS, and a Servant of TIMON’s, 
+
+
+Sem. Must he needs trouble me in ‘t,—hum! 
+—'bove all others? 
+He might have tried Lord Lucius or Lucullus; 
+And now Ventidius is wealthy too, 
+Whom he redeem’d from prison: all these 
+Owe their estates unto him. 
+
+
+Serv. My lord, 
+They have all been touch’d and found base 
+metal, for 
+
+
+They have all denied him. 
+
+Sem. How! have they denied him? 
+Has Ventidius and Lucullus denied him? 
+And does he send to me? Three? hum! 
+
+It shows but little love or judgement in him: 
+
+
+932 
+
+
+Must I be his last refuge? His friends, like 
+i I 
+
+
+physicians, | 
++Thrive, give him over: must I take the cure 
+upon me? 
+Has much disgraced me in’t; I’m angry at 
+him, 
+
+
+That might have known my place: I see no 
+sense for 't. 
+
+But his occasions might have woo'd me first; 
+
+For, in my conscience, I was the first man 
+
+That e’er received gift from him: 
+
+And does he think so backwardly of me now, 
+
+That I'll requite it last? No: 
+
+So it may prove an argument of laughter 20 
+
+To the rest, and 'mongst lords I be thought a 
+fool, 
+
+I "ld rather than the worth of thrice the sum, 
+
+Had sent to me first, but for my mind’s sake; 
+
+I'd such a courage to do him good. But now 
+return, 
+
+And with their faint reply this answer join; 
+
+Who bates mine honour shall not know my 
+coin. [Exit. 
+
+Serv. Excellent! Your lordship 's a good- 
+
+ly villain. The devil knew not what he did 
+
+when he made man politic; he crossed him- 
+
+self by ‘t: and I cannot think but, in the end, 
+
+the villanies of man will set him clear. How 
+
+fairly this lord strives to appear foul! takes 
+
+Virtuous copies to be wicked, like those that 
+
+under hot ardent zeal would set whole realms 
+
+on fire: 
+
+Of such nature is his politic love, 
+
+This Abe my lord's best hope; now all are 
+
+ed, 
+
+Save only the gods: now his friends are dead, 
+
+Doors, that were ne'er acquainted with their 
+wards 
+
+Many a bounteous year, must be employ’d 
+
+Now to guard sure their master. 
+
+And this is all a liberal course allows; 
+
+Who cannot keep his wealth must keep his 
+house. [Exit 
+
+
+Scene IV. The same. A hall in Timon's 
+
+
+house. 
+
+
+Enter two Servants of VARRO, and the Servant 
+of Lucius, meeting Titus, Hortenstus, 
+and other Servants of TimMon’s creditors, 
+wailing his coming out. 
+
+First Var. Serv. Well met: good morrow, 
+
+Titus and Hortensius. 
+
+Tit. The like to you, kind Varro. 
+
+Hor. Lucius! 
+What, do we meet together? 
+
+Luc. Serv. Ay, and I think 
+One business does command us all; for mine 
+Is money. 
+
+Tit. So is theirs and ours, 
+
+
+TIMON OF ATHENS 
+
+
+[Acr II], Sc. IV 
+
+
+Enter PHiLotus, 
+
+
+Luc. Serv. And Sir Philotus too! 
+
+Phi. Good day at once. 
+
+Luc. Serv. Welcome, good brother. 
+What do you think the hour? 
+
+Phi. Labouring for nine. 
+
+Luc. Serv. So much? 
+
+
+Phi. Is not my lord seen yet? 
+Luc. Serv, Not yet. 
+Phi. 1 wonder on’t; he was wont to shine 
+
+at seven. 10 
+
+
+Luc. Serv. Ay, but the days are wax'a 
+shorter with him: 
+You must consider that a prodigal course 
+Is like the sun’s; but not, like his, recoverable, 
+I fear ‘tis deepest winter in Lord Timon’s 
+purse; 
+That is, one may reach deep enough, and yet 
+Find little. 
+Phi. I am of your fear for that. 
+Tit. I'll show you how to observe a 
+strange event. : 
+Your lord sends now for money, 
+Hor. Most true, he does. 
+Tit. ae he wears jewels now of Timon’s 
+gilt, 
+For which I wait for money. 20 
+
+Hor. It is against my heart. 
+
+Luc, Serv. Mark, how strange it shows, 
+Timon in this should pay more than he owes: 
+And e’en as if your lord should wear rich 
+
+jewels, 
+And send for money for “em. 
+
+Hor. I'm weary of this charge, the gods 
+
+can witness: 
+I know my lord hath spent of Timon’s wealth, 
+And now ingratitude makes it worse than 
+stealth. 
+
+First Var. Serv. Yes, mine’s three thou- 
+
+sand crowns: what's yours? 
+
+Luc. Serv. Five thousand mine. 
+
+First Var. Serv. "Tis much deep: and it 
+
+should seem by the sum, 30 
+
+
+Your master’s confidence was above mine; 
+Else, surely, his had equall'd. 
+
+
+Enter FLAMINIUs. 
+
+
+Tit. One of Lord Timon’s men. 
+
+
+Luc. Serv. Flaminius! Sir, a word: pray, 
+is my lord ready to come forth? 
+
+Flam. No, indeed, he is not. 
+
+Tit. We attend his lordship; pray, signify 
+so much. 
+
+Flam. I need not tell him that; he knows 
+you are too diligent. [Exit. 40 
+
+
+Enter Fiavius in a cloak, muffled. 
+
+
+Luc. Serv. Ha! 
+muffled so? 
+
+
+is not that his steward 
+
+
+EET See ae ee eT Ae 
+
+
+Acr III, Sc. V]. 
+
+
+TIMON OF ATHENS 
+
+
+933 
+
+
+He goes away in a cloud: call him, call him. 
+Tit. Do you hear, sir? 
+Sec. Var. Serv. By your leave, sir,— 
+Flav. What do ye ask of me, my friend? 
+Tit. We wait for certain money here, sir. 
+Flav, Ay, 
+If money were as certain as your waiting, 
+"Twere sure enough. 
+Why then preferr’d you not your sums and 
+bills, 49 
+When your false masters eat of my lord's 
+meat? 
+Then they could smile and fawn upon his 
+debts 
+And take down the interest into their glut- 
+tonous maws. 
+You do yourselves but wrong to stir me up; 
+Let me pass quietly: 
+Believe 't, my lord and I have made an end; 
+I have no more to reckon, he to spend. 
+Luc. Serv. Ay, but this answer will not 
+
+
+serve. 
+Flav. If twill not serve, ‘tis not so base as 
+you; 
+For you serve knaves. [Exit. 
+First Var. Serv. How! what does his 
+cashiered worship mutter? 61 
+Sec. Var. Serv. No matter what; he’s 
+
+
+poor, and that’s revenge enough. Who can 
+speak broader than he that has no house to 
+put his head in? such may rail against great 
+buildings, 
+
+Enter SeRvitius. 
+
+Tit. O, here’s Servilius; now we shall 
+know some answer. 
+
+Ser. lf I might beseech you, gentlemen, to 
+repair some other hour, I should derive much 
+from ’t; for, take 't of my soul, my lord leans 
+wondrously to discontent: his comfortable 
+temper has forsook him; he’s much out of 
+health, and keeps his chamber, 
+
+Luc. Serv. Many do keep their chambers 
+
+are not sick: 
+And, if it be so far beyond his health, 
+Methinks he should the sooner pay his debts, 
+And make a clear way to the gods. 
+
+
+Ser. Good gods! 
+Tit. We cannot take this for answer, sir. 
+Flam. [Within.] Servilius, help! My 
+
+
+lord! my lord! 
+
+
+Enter TIMON, in a rage; FLAMINIUS 
+following. 
+Tim. What, are my doors opposed against 
+my passage > 80 
+Have I been ever free, and must my house 
+Be my retentive enemy, my gaol? 
+The place which I have feasted, does it now, 
+Like all mankind, show me an iron heart? 
+
+
+Luc. 
+Tit. 
+
+
+Serv. Put it now, Titus, 
+My lord, here is my bill. 
+Luc. Serv. Here’s mine. 
+Hor. And mine, my lord, 
+Both Var. Serv. And ours, my lord. 
+Phi. All our bills, 
+Tim. Knock me down with em: cleave me 
+to the girdle. 
+Luc. Serv. Alas, my lord,— 
+Tim. Cut my heart in sums. 
+Tit. Mine, fifty talents. 
+Tim. Tell out my blood, 
+Luc. Serv. Five thousand crowns, my lord. 
+Tim. Five thousand drops pays _ that, 
+What yours?—and yours? 
+First Var. Serv. My lord,— 
+Sec. Var, Serv. My lord — 
+Tim. Tear me, take me, and the gods fall 
+upon you! [Exit. 100 
+Hor. ‘Faith, I perceive our masters may 
+throw their caps at their money: these debts 
+may well be called desperate ones, for a mad- 
+man owes ‘em, [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Re-enter TimMoN and FLavius. 
+
+
+Tim. They have e’en put'my breath from 
+me, the slaves. 
+Creditors? devils! 
+
+
+Flav. My dear lord, — 
+
+Tim. What if it should be so? 
+Flav. My lord,— 
+
+Tim. I'll have it so. My steward! 
+
+
+110 
+Go, bid all my friends 
+
+
+Flav, Here, my lord, 
+Tim. So fitly? 
+again, 
+Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius: 
+All, sirrah, all: 
+I'll once more feast the rascals. 
+
+Flav. O, my lord, 
+You only speak from your distracted soul; 
+There is not so much left, to furnish out 
+A moderate table. 
+
+Tim. Be 't not in thy care; go, 
+
+I charge thee, invite them all: let in the tide 
+Of knaves once more; my cook and I 'll pro- 
+vide, [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene V. The same. The senate-house 
+The Senate sitting. 
+First Sen. My lord, you have my voice t 
+it; the fault ’s 
+Bloody; ‘tis necessary he should die: 
+Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy. 
+Sec. Sen. Most true; the law shall bruise 
+him. 
+Enter A ciBIADEs, with Attendants, 
+Alcib. Honour, health, and compassion to 
+the senate! 
+First Sen. Now, captain? 
+
+
+934 
+
+
+TIMON OF ATHENS 
+
+
+{Acr II], Sc. V 
+
+
+Alcib. I am an humble suitor to your vir- 
+tues; 
+For pity is the virtue of the law, 
+And none but tyrants use it cruelly. 
+It pleases time and fortune to lie heavy 10 
+Upon a friend of mine, who, in hot blood, 
+Hath stepp’d into the law, which is past depth 
+To those that, without heed, do plunge into 't. 
+He is a man, setting his fate aside, 
+Of comely virtues: 
+Nor did he soil the fact with cowardice— 
+An honour in him which buys out his fault— 
+But with a noble fury and fair spirit, 
+Seeing his reputation touch’d to death, 
+He did oppose his foe: 20 
+And with such sober and unnoted passion 
+He did behave his anger, ere ‘twas spent, 
+As if he had but proved an argument. 
+First Sen. You undergo too strict a para- 
+dox, 
+Striving to make an ugly deed look fair: 
+Your words have took such pains as if they 
+labour’d 
+To biing manslaughter into form and set 
+quarrelling 
+Upon the head of valour; which indeed 
+Is valour misbegot and came into the world 
+When sects and factions were newly born: 30 
+He's truly valiant that can wisely suffer 
+The worst that man can breathe, and make 
+his wrongs 
+His outsides, to wear them like his raiment, 
+carelessly, 
+And ne’er prefer his injuries to his heart, 
+To bring it into danger. 
+If wrongs be evils and enforce us kill, 
+What folly ‘tis to hazard life for ill! 
+Alcib. My lord,— : 
+First Sen. You cannot make gross 
+sins look clear: 
+To revenge is no valour, but to bear. 
+Alcib. My lords, then, under favour, par- 
+don me, 40 
+If I speak like a captain. 
+Why do fond men expose themselves to battle, 
+And not endure all threats? sleep upon 't, 
+And let the foes quietly cut their throats, 
+Without repugnancy? If there be 
+Such valour in the bearing, what make we 
+Abroad? why then, women are more valiant 
+That stay at home, if bearing carry it, 
+And the ass more captain than the lion, the 
+felon 
+Loaden with irons wiser than the judge, 50 
+If wisdom be in suffering. O my lords, 
+As you are great, be pitifully good: 
+© cannot condemn rashness in cold blood ? 
+To kill, I grant, is sin’s extremest gust; 
+But, in defence, by mercy, ‘tis most just. 
+
+
+To be in anger is impiety; 
+But who is man that is not angry? 
+Weigh but the crime with this. 
+
+Sec. Sen. You breathe in vain. 
+
+Alcib, In vain! his service done 
+At Lacedemon and Byzantium 60 
+Were a sufficient briber for his life. 
+
+First Sen. What’s that? 
+
+Alcib. 1 say, my lords, he has done fair 
+
+service, 
+And slain in fight many of our enemies: 
+
+
+How full of valour did he bear himself 
+
+
+In the last conflict, and made plenteous 
+wounds!. 
+
+Sec. Sen. He has made too much plenty 
+with ‘em; 
+
+
+He’s a sworn rioter: he has a sin that often 
+Drowns him, and takes his valour prisoner: 
+If there were no foes, that were enough 70 
+To overcome him: in that beastly fury 
+He has been known to commit outrages, 
+And cherish factions: ‘tis inferr’d to us, 
+His days are foul and his drink dangerous. 
+First Sen. He dies. 
+Alcib. Hard fate! he might have 
+died in war. 
+My lords, if not for any parts in himn— 
+Though his right arm might purchase his own 
+time 
+And be in debt to none—yet, more to move 
+you, 
+Take my deserts to his, and join "em both: 
+And, for I know your reverend ages love 80 
+Security, I'll pawn my victories, all 
+My honours to you, upon his good returns, 
+If by this crime he owes the law his life, 
+Why, let the war receive "t in valiant gore; 
+For law is strict, and war is nothing more. 
+First Sen. We are for law: he dies; urge 
+it no more, 
+On height of our displeasure: 
+brother, 
+He forfeits his own blood that spills another. 
+Alcib. Must it be so? it must not be. My 
+lords, 
+I do beseech you, know me. 90 
+Sec. Sen. How! 
+Alcib. Call me to your remembrances. 
+Third Sen. What! 
+Alcib. I cannot think but your age has for- 
+got me; 
+It could not else be, I should prove so base, 
+To sue, and be denied such common grace: 
+My wounds ache at you. 
+First Sen. Do you dare our anger? 
+‘Tis in few words, but spacious in effect; 
+We banish thee for ever. 
+Alcib, Banish me! 
+Banish your dotage; banish usury, 
+
+
+friend or 
+
+
+Act Ill, Sc, VI] 
+
+
+TIMON OF ATHENS 
+
+
+935 
+
+
+That makes the senate ugly, 100 
+|. First Sen. If, after two days’ shine, Athens 
+contain thee, 
+_ Attend our weighing judgement. And, not to 
+swell our spirit, 
+_ He shall be executed presently. 
+[Exeunt Senators. 
+Alcib. Now the gods keep you old enough; 
+that you may live ; 
+Only in bone, that none may look on you! 
+I’m worse than mad: I have kept back their 
+foes, 
+While they have told their money and let out 
+Their coin upon large interest, I myself 
+Rich only in large hurts. All those for this? 
+Is this the balsam that the usuring senate 110 
+Pours into captains’ wounds? Banishment! 
+__ It comes not ill; I hate not to be banish’d; 
+~ Jt is a cause worthy my spleen and fury, 
+That I may strike at Athens. I'll cheer up 
+My discontented troops, and lay for hearts. 
+Tis honour with most lands to be at odds; 
+Soldiers should brook as little wrongs as gods. 
+[Exit. 
+
+
+Scene VI. The same. A banqueling-room 
+in Timon’s house. 
+Music. Tables set out: Servants attending. 
+
+
+Enier divers Lords, Senators and others, al 
+several doors. 
+
+
+First Lord. The good time of day to you, 
+sir. 
+
+Sec, Lord. I also wish it to you. I think 
+this honourable lord did but try us this other 
+day. 
+
+First Lord. Upon that were my thoughts 
+tiring, when we encountered: I hope it is not 
+
+_ se low with him as he made it seem in the 
+trial of his several friends. 
+
+Sec. Lord. It should not be, by the persua- 
+sion of his new feasting. 9 
+
+First Lord. 1 should think so: he hath sent 
+me an earnest inviting, which many my near 
+occasions did urge me to put off; but he hath 
+conjured me beyond them, and I must needs 
+appear. 
+
+Sec. Lord. In like manner was I in debt to 
+my importunate business, but he would not 
+hear my excuse. I am sorry, when he sent to 
+borrow of me, that my provision was out. 
+
+FirstsLord. 1 am sick of that grief, too, as 
+I understand how all things go. 20 
+
+Sec. Lord. Every man here’s so. What 
+would he have borrowed of you? 
+
+First Lord. A thousand pieces. 
+
+Sec. Lord. A thousand pieces! 
+
+First Lord. What of you? 
+
+Sec. Lord. He sent to me, sir,—-Here he 
+comes. 
+
+
+Enter Timon and Attendants. 
+
+
+Tim. With all my heart, gentlemen both; 
+and how fare you? 
+
+First Lord. Ever at the best, hearing well 
+of your lordship. 30 
+
+Sec. Lord. The swallow follows not sum- 
+mer more willing than we your lordship. 
+
+Tim. [Aside] Nor more willingly leaves 
+winter; such summer-birds are men. Gentle- 
+men, our dinner will not recompense this long 
+stay: feast your ears with the music awhile, if 
+they will fare so harshly o’ the trumpet’s 
+sound; we shall to't presently. 
+
+First Lord. I hope it remains not unkindly 
+with your lordship that I returned you an 
+empty messenger. 4] 
+
+Tim. O, sir, let it not trouble you. 
+
+Sec, Lord. My noble lord=— 
+
+Tim. Ah, my good friend, what cheer? 
+
+Sec. Lord. My most honourable lord, I 
+am e’en sick of shame, that, when your lord- 
+ship this other day sent to me, I was so un- 
+fortunate a beggar, 
+
+Tim. Think not on't, sir, 
+
+Sec. Lord. If you had sent but two hours 
+before,— 51 
+
+Tim. Let it not cumber your better remem- 
+brance. [The banquet brought in.] Come, 
+bring in ail together, 
+
+Sec. Lord. All covered dishes! 
+
+First Lord. Royal cheer, I warrant you. 
+
+Third Lord. Doubt not that, if money and 
+the season can yield it, 
+
+
+First Lord. How do you? What’s the 
+news > 
+
+Third Lord. Alcibiades is banished: heaa 
+you of it? 61 
+
+
+First and Sec. Lord. Alcibiades banished! 
+
+Third Lord. "Tis so, be sure of it. 
+
+First Lord. How! how! 
+
+Sec, Lord. I pray you, upon what? 
+
+Tim. My worthy friends, will you draw 
+near > 
+
+Third Lord: "ll tell you more anon. 
+Here's a noble feast toward, 
+
+Sec. Lord. This is the old man still. 
+
+Third Lord. Will’t hold? will’t hold? 70 
+
+Sec. Lord. It does: but time will—and 
+so— 
+
+Third Lord. 1 do conceive. 
+
+Tim. Each man to his stool, with that spur 
+as he would to the lip of his mistress: your 
+diet shall be in all places alike. Make not a 
+city feast of it, to let the meat cool ere we can 
+agree upon the first place: sit, sit. The gods 
+require our thanks. ; 
+
+
+You great benefactors, sprinkle our society 
+with thankfulness. For your own gifts, make 
+
+
+936 
+
+
+TIMON OF ATHENS 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc. I 
+
+
+yourselves praised: but reserve still to give, 
+lest your deities be despised. Lend to each 
+man enough, that one need not lend to an- 
+other; for, were your godheads to borrow of 
+men, men would forsake the gods. Make the 
+meat be beloved more than the man that gives 
+it. Let no assembly of twenty be without a 
+score of villains: if there sit twelve women at 
+the table, let a dozen of them be—as they are. 
++The rest of your fees, O gods—the senators 
+of Athens, together with the common lag of 
+people—what is amiss in them, you gods, 
+make suitable for destruction. For these my 
+present friends, as they are to me nothing, so 
+in nothing bless them, and to nothing are they 
+welcome. 
+
+
+Uncover, dogs, and lap. 
+[The dishes are uncovered and seem to be 
+full of warm water. 
+Some speak. What does his lordship 
+mean ? 
+Some other. I know not. 
+Tim. May you a better feast never behold, 
+You knot of mouth-friends! smoke and luke- 
+warm water 
+Js your perfection. This is Timon’s last; 100 
+Who, stuck and spangled with your flatteries, 
+Washes it off, and sprinkles in your faces 
+Your reeking villany, 
+[Throwing the water in their faces. 
+Live loathed and long, 
+Most smiling, smooth, detested parasites, 
+Courteous destroyers, affable wolves, meek 
+
+
+bears, 
+
+You fools of fortune, trencher-friends, time's 
+flies, 
+
+Cap and knee slaves, vapours, and minute- 
+jacks! 
+
+
+Of man and beast the infinite malady 
+
+Crust you quite o'er! What, dost thou go? 
+
+Soft! take thy physic first—thou too—and 
+thou ;— 110 
+
+Stay, I will lend thee money, borrow none. 
+[Throws the dishes at them, and drives 
+
+them out. 
+
+What, all in motion? Henceforth be no 
+feast, 
+
+Whereat a villain’s not a welcome guest. 
+
+
+Burn, house! sink, Athens! henceforth hated 
+
+
+be 
+Of Timon man and all humanity! [Exit. 
+
+
+Re-enter the Lords, Senators, &c. 
+First Lord. How now, my lords! 
+Sec. Lord. Know you the quality of Lord 
+Timon’s fury? 
+Third Lord. Push! did you see my cap? 
+Fourth Lord. | have lost my gown. 120 
+First Lord. He's but a med lord, and 
+
+
+nought but humour sways him. He gave me 
+a jewel th’ other day, and now he has beat 
+it out of my hat: did you see my jewel? 
+
+Third Lord. Did you see my cap? 
+
+Sec. Lord. Here’t is. 
+
+Fourth Lord. Here lies my gown. 
+
+First Lord, Let's make no stay. 
+
+Sec. Lord. Lord Timon’s mad. 
+
+Third Lord, I feel ‘t upon my bones. 
+
+Fourth Lord. One day he gives us dia- 
+
+monds, next day stones, [Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT IV: 
+Without the walls of Athens, 
+Enter Timon. 
+
+
+Scene I. 
+
+
+Tim. Let me look back upon thee. O 
+thou wall, 
+
+That girdlest in those wolves, dive in the 
+earth, 
+
+And fence not Athens! 
+continent! 
+
+Obedience fail in children! slaves and fools, 
+
+Pluck the grave wrinkled senate from the 
+bench, 
+
+And minister in their steads! to general filths 
+
+Convert o’ the instant, green virginity, 
+
+Do vA in your parents’ eyes! bankrupts, hold 
+ast; 
+
+Rather than render back, out with your knives, 
+
+And cut your trusters’ throats! bound servants, 
+steal ! “ 10 
+
+Large-handed robbers your grave masters are, 
+
+
+And pill by law. Maid, to thy master’s bed; 
+
+
+Matrons, turn in- 
+
+
+Thy mistress is 0’ the brothel! Son of six- 
+teen, 
+Pluck the lined crutch from thy old limping 
+
+
+sire, 
+With it beat out his brains! Piety, and fear, 
+Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth, 
+Domestic awe, night-rest, and neighbourhood, 
+Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades, 
+Degrees, observances, customs, and laws, 
+Decline to your confounding contraries. 
+And let confusion live! 
+men, 
+Your potent and infectious fevers heap 
+On Athens, ripe for stroke! "Thou cold 
+sciatica, 
+Cripple our senators, that their limbs mav halt 
+As lamely as their manners! Lust and liberty 
+Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth, 
+That ‘gainst the stream of virtue they may 
+strive, 
+And drown themselves in riot! Itches, blains, 
+Sow all the Athenian bosoms; and their crop 
+Be general leprosy! Breath infect breath, 30 
+That their society, as their friendship, may 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+Plagues, incident to 
+
+
+| Act IV, Sc, II] 
+
+
+Be merely poison! Nothing I'll bear from 
+thee, 
+But nakedness, thou detestable town! 
+
+Take thou that too, with multiplying bans! 
+Timon will to the woods; where he shall find 
+The unkindest beast more kinder than man- 
+
+kind, 
+The gods confound—hear me, you good gods 
+all— 
+The Athenians both within and out that wall! 
+And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may 
+grow 
+To the whole race of mankind, high and low! 
+Amen. [Exit. 
+
+
+Athens. A room in Timon's 
+house. 
+
+
+Enter Fiavius, with two or three Servants. 
+
+
+First Serv. Hear you, 
+where ‘s our master ? 
+Are we undone? cast off ? nothing remaining? 
+Flav. Alack, my fellows, what shall I say 
+to you? 
+Let me be recorded by the righteous gods, 
+~ I am as poor as you. 
+
+First Serv. Such a house broke! 
+
+So noble a master fall’n! All gone! and not 
+One friend to take his fortune by the arm, 
+And go along with him! 
+
+Sec. Serv. As we do turn our backs 
+From our companion thrown into his grave, 
+So his familiars to his buried fortunes 10 
+Slink all away, leave their false yows with 
+
+~ him, 
+
+Like empty purses pick’d; and his poor self, 
+
+A dedicated beggar to the air, 
+
+With his disease of all-shunn’d poverty, 
+
+Walks, like contempt, alone. More of our 
+fellows. 
+
+
+Scene II. 
+
+
+master steward, 
+
+
+Enter other Servants, 
+
+
+Flav. All broken implements of a ruin'’d 
+house, 
+Third Serv. Yet do our hearts wear Ti- 
+mon's livery; 
+That see I by our faces; we are fellows still, 
+Serving alike in sorrow: leak'd is our bark, 
+And we, poor mates, stand on the dying deck, 
+Hearing the surges threat: we must all part 
+Into this sea of air. 
+Flav. Good fellows all, 
+The latest of my wealth I'll share amongst 
+you. 
+Wherever we shall meet, for Timon’s sake, 
+Let's yet be fellows; let’s shake our heads, 
+and say, 
+As ‘twere a knell unto our master’s fortunes, 
+"We have seen better days.’ Let each take 
+some: 
+
+
+TIMON OF ATHENS 
+
+
+| 
+ee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeEeEeEeEeEeEEEE——E——eeee 
+
+
+937 
+
+
+Nay, put out all your hands. Not one word 
+more: 
+
+Thus we part rich in sorrow, parting poor, 29 
+
+[Servants embrace, and part several ways. 
+
+O, the fierce wretchedness that glory brings 
+us! 
+
+Who would not wish to be from wealth ex- 
+empt, 
+
+Since riches point to misery and contempt? 
+
+Ste y be so mock’d with glory? or tc 
+ive 
+
+But in a dream of friendship? 
+
+To have his pomp and all what state com- 
+pounds 
+
+But only painted, like his varnish’d friends? 
+
+Poor honest lord, brought low by his own 
+
+
+heart, 
+
+Undone by goodness! Strange, unusual 
+blood, 
+
+When man’s worst sin is, he does too much 
+good! 
+
+
+Who, then, dares to be half so kind again? 40 
+
+For bounty, that makes gods, does still mar 
+men, 
+
+My dearest lord, bless'd, to be most accursed, 
+
+Rich, only to be wretched, thy great fortunes 
+
+Are made thy chief afflictions. Alas, kind 
+lord! 
+
+He’s flung in rage from this ingrateful seat 
+
+Of monstrous friends, nor has he with him to 
+
+Supply his life, or that which can command it. 
+
+I'll follow and inquire him out: 
+
+Ill ever serve his mind with my best will; 
+
+Whilst I have gold, I'll be his steward still, 
+
+[Exit, 
+
+
+Woods and cave, near the 
+sea-shore. 
+
+
+Enter Timon, from the cave. 
+
+
+Tim. O blessed breeding sun, draw from 
+
+the earth 
+
+Rotten humidity; below thy sister’s orb 
+
+Infect the air! Twinn’d brothers of one 
+womb, 
+
+Whose procreation, residence, and birth, 
+
+Scarce is dividant, touch them with several 
+fortunes; 
+
+The greater scorns the lesser: not nature, 
+
+To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great 
+fortunes; 
+
+But thy contempt of nature. 
+
+Raise me this beggar, and deny 't that lord; 
+
+The senator shall bear contempt hereditary, 10 
+
+The beggar native honour. 
+
+It is the pasture lards the rother’s sides, 
+
+The want that makes him lean. Who dares, 
+who dares, 
+
+In purity of manhood stand upright, 
+
+And say “This man's a fatterer’? if one be, - 
+
+
+Scene III. 
+
+
+938 
+
+
+TIMON OF ATHENS 
+
+
+.—poa 
+
+
+So are they all; for every grise of fortune 
+Is sr.coth’d by that below: the learned pate 
+Ducks to the golden fool: all is oblique; 
+There ’s nothing level in our cursed natures, 
+But direct villany. Therefore, be abhorr’d 20 
+All feasts, societies, and throngs of men! 
+His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains: 
+Destruction fang mankind! Earth, yield me 
+roots! [ Digging. 
+Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate 
+With thy most operant poison! What is here? 
+Gold? yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, 
+
+
+gods, 
+
+J am no idle votarist: roots, you clear hea- 
+vens! 
+
+Thus much of this will make black white, foul 
+fair, 
+
+Wrong right, base noble, old young, coward 
+valiant. 
+
+Ha, you gods! why this? what this, you 
+gods? Why, this 30 
+
+Will lug your priests and servants from your 
+sides, 
+
+
+Pluck stout men’s pillows from below their 
+heads: 
+
+This yellow slave 
+
+Will knit and break religions, bless the ac- 
+cursed, 
+
+Make the hoar leprosy adored, place thieves 
+
+And give them title, knee and approbation 
+
+With senators on the bench: this is it 
+
+That makes the wappen’d widow wed again; 
+
+She, whom the spital-house and ulcerous sores 
+
+Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and 
+spices 40 
+
+To the April day again, Come, damned 
+earth, 
+
+Thou common whore of mankind, that put’st 
+odds 
+
+Among the rout of nations, I will make thee 
+
+Do thy right nature. [March afar off.] Ha! 
+a drum? Thou ’rt quick, 
+
+But yet I'll bury thee: thou ‘It go, strong thief, 
+
+When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand. 
+
+Nay, stay thou out for earnest, 
+
+
+[Keeping some gold. 
+
+
+Enter Axcipiapes, with drum and fife, in 
+warlike manner; PHRYNIA and TIMANDRA, 
+
+
+Alcib. What art thou there? speak. 
+Tim. A beast, as thou art. The canker 
+gnaw thy heart, 
+For showing me again the eyes of man! 50 
+Alcib. What is thy name? Is man so 
+hateful to thee, 
+That art ‘thyself a man? 
+Tim. I am Misanthropos, and hate man- 
+kind. 
+For thy part, 1 do wish theu wert a dog, 
+
+
+That I might love thee something, 
+Alcib. I know thee well; 
+But in thy fortunes am unlearn’d and strange. 
+Tim. I know thee too; and more than that 
+I know thee, 
+I desire not to know. Follow thy drum; 
+With man’s blood paint the ground, gules, 
+
+
+gules: 
+Religious canons, civil laws are cruel; 60 
+Then what should war be? ‘This fell whore 
+of thine 
+
+
+Hath in her more destruction than thy sword, 
+For all her cherubin look. 
+Phry. Thy lips rot off! 
+Tim. I will not kiss thee; then the ro. 
+returns 
+To thine own lips again. 
+Alcib. How came the noble Timon to this 
+change ? 
+Tim. As the moon does, by wanting light 
+to give: 
+But then renew I could not, like the moon; 
+There were no suns to borrow of, 
+Alcib. Noble Timon, 
+What friendship may I do thee? 
+
+
+Tim. None, but to 70 
+Maintain my opinion, 
+Alcib. What is it, Timon? 
+
+
+Tim. Promise me friendship, but perform 
+none: if thou wilt not promise, the gods plague 
+thee, for thou art a man! if thou dost perform, 
+confound thee, for thou art a man! 
+
+Alcib, I have heard in some sort of thy 
+
+
+miseries. 
+
+
+Tim. Thou saw’st them, when I had pros- — 
+
+
+perity. 
+
+
+Alcib. 1 see them now; then was a blessed — 
+
+
+time. 
+Tim. As thine is now, held with a brace 
+of harlots. 
+Timan. Is this the 
+whom the world 
+Voiced so regardfully ? 
+Tim. Art thou Timandra? 
+Timan. Yes. 
+Tim. Be a whore still: they love thee not 
+that use thee; 
+Give them diseases, leaving with thee their 
+ust, 
+Make use of thy salt hours: season the slaves 
+For tubs and baths; bring down rose-cheeked 
+
+
+Athenian minion, 
+
+
+youth 
+To the tub-fast and the diet. 
+Timan. Hang thee, monster! 
+Alcib. Pardon him, sweet Timandra; for 
+his wits 
+Are drown'd and lost in his calamities. 
+I have but little gold of late, brave Timon, 90 
+The want whereof doth daily make revolt 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. tt 
+
+
+Wert, /Sentit} 
+
+
+TIMON OF ATHENS 
+
+
+939 
+
+
+In my penurious band: I have heard, and 
+
+
+; grieved, 
+How cursed Athens, mindless of thy worth, 
+Forgetting thy great deeds, when neighbour 
+states, 
+But for thy sword and fortune, trod upon 
+them,— 
+Tim. 1 prithee; beat thy drum, and get 
+thee gone, ° 
+Alcib. 1 am thy friend, and pity thee, dear 
+Timon. 
+Tim. How dost thou pity him whom thou 
+dost trouble? 
+I had rather be alone. 
+Alcib. Why, fare thee well: 
+Here is some gold for thee. 
+Tim. Keep it, I cannot eat it. 100 
+Alcib. When I have laid proud Athens on 
+a heap,— 
+Tim. Warr’st thou ‘gainst Athens? 
+Alcib. Ay, Timon, and have cause. 
+Tim. The gods confound them all in thy 
+conquest; 
+And thee after, when thou hast conquer’d! 
+Alcib. Why me, Timon? 
+Tim. That, by killing of villains, 
+Thou wast born to conquer my country. 
+Put up thy gold: go on,—here'’s gold,—go 
+on; 
+Be as a planetary plague, when Jove 
+Will o’er some high-viced city hang his poi- 
+son 
+In the sick air: let not thy sword skip one:110 
+Pity not honour'd age for his white beard; 
+He is an usurer: strike me the counterfeit 
+matron; 
+It is her habit oniy that is honest, 
+Herself ’s a bawd: let not the virgin’s cheek 
+Make soft thy trenchant sword; for those 
+milk-paps, 
+That through the window-bars bore at men’s 
+eyes, 
+Are not within the leaf of pity writ, 
+But set them down horrible traitors: spare not 
+the babe, : 
+Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust 
+their mercy; 
+Think it a bastard, whom the oracle 120 
+Hath doubtfully pronounced thy throat shall 
+cut, 
+And mince it sans remorse: swear against 
+objects; 
+Put armour on thine ears and on thine eyes; 
+Whose proof, nor yells of mothers, maids, 
+nor babes, 
+Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding, 
+Shall pierce a jot. There's gold to pay thy 
+soldiers: 
+Make large confusion; and, thy fury spent, 
+
+
+Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone. 
+
+
+Alcib. Hast thou gold yet? I'll take the 
+gold thou givest me, 
+Not all thy counsel. 130 
+
+
+Tim. Dost thou, or dost thou not, hea- 
+ven’s curse upon thee! 
+Phr. and Timan. Give us some gold, good 
+Timon: hast thou more > 
+Tim. Enough to make a whore forswear 
+her trade, 
+And to make whores, a bawd. Hold up, you 
+sluts, 
+Your aprons mountant: you are not oath- 
+able,— 
+Although, 
+swear 
+Into strong shudders and to heavenly agues 
+The immortal gods that hear you,~-spare your 
+oaths. 
+I'll trust to your conditions: be whores still; 
+And he whose pious breath seeks to convert 
+you, 140 
+Be strong in whore, allure him, burn him up; 
+Let your close fire predominate his smoke, 
+And be no turncoats: yet may your pains, six 
+months, 
+Be quite contrary: and thatch your poor thin 
+roofs 
+With burthens of the dead;—some that were 
+hang’d, 
+No matter:—wear them, betray with them: 
+whore still; 
+Paint till a horse may mire upon your face: 
+A pox of wrinkles! 
+Phr. and Timan. Well, more gold: what 
+then ? 
+Believe 't, that we'll do any thing for gold. 
+Tim. Consumptions sow 
+In hollow bones of man; strike their sharp 
+shins, 
+And mar men’s spurring. Crack the lawyer's 
+voice, 
+That he may never more false title plead, 
+Nor sound his quillets shrilly: hoar the flamen, 
+That scolds against the quality of flesh, 
+And not believes himself: down with the nose, 
+Down with it flat; take the bridge quite away 
+Of him that, his particular to foresee, 
+Smells from the general weal: make curl'd- 
+pate ruffians bald; 160 
+And let the unscarr’d braggarts of the war 
+Derive some pain from you: plague all; 
+That your activity may defeat and quell 
+The source of all erection. There's more 
+gold: 
+Do you damn others, and let this damn you, 
+And ditches grave you all! 
+Phr. and Timan. More counsel with more 
+money, bounteous Timon, 
+
+
+I know, you'll swear, terribly 
+
+
+940 
+
+
+TIMON OF ATHENS 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc: Ill 
+
+
+Tim. More whore, more mischief first; 1 
+have given you earnest. 
+
+Alcib. Strike up the drum towards Ath- 
+ens! Farewell, Timon: 
+
+If I thrive well, I'll visit thee again, 170 
+
+Tim. If I hope well, I'll never see thee 
+more. 
+
+Alcib. I never did thee harm. 
+
+Tim. Yes, thou spokest well of me. 
+
+
+Alcib. Call'st thou that harm? 
+Tim. Men daily find it. Get thee away, 
+and take 
+
+
+Thy beagles with thee. 
+Alcib. We but offend him. Strike! 
+[Drum beats. Exeunt Alcibiades, 
+Phrynia, and Timandra. 
+Tim. That nature, being sick of man’s un- 
+kindness, 
+
+
+Should yet be hungry! Common mother, 
+thou, [Digging. 
+Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite 
+
+
+breast, 
+
+Teems, and feeds all; whose self-same mettle, 
+
+Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is 
+puff'd, 180 
+
+Engenders the black toad and adder blue, 
+
+The gilded newt and eyeless venom’d worm, 
+
+With all the abhorred births below crisp hea- 
+ven 
+
+Whereon Hyperion’s quickening fire doth 
+shine; 
+
+Yield him, who all thy human sons doth hate, 
+
+From forth thy plenteous bosom, one poor 
+root! 
+
+Ensear thy fertile and conceptious womb, 
+
+Let it no more bring out ingrateful man! 
+
+Go great with tigers, dragons, wolves, and 
+bears; 
+
+Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward 
+face 
+
+Hath to the marbled mansion all above 
+
+Never presented! —O, a root,—dear thanks! — 
+
+Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn 
+
+
+leas; 
+Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorish 
+draughts 
+
+
+And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind, 
+That from it all consideration slips! 
+
+
+Enter APEMANTUS. 
+More man? plague, plague! 
+
+
+Apem. I was directed hither: men report 
+Thou dost affect my manners, and dost use 
+
+
+them. 
+Tim. "Tis, then, because thou dost not 
+keep a dog, 200 
+Whom I would imitate: consumption catch 
+
+thee! 
+
+
+Apem. This is in thee a nature but in- 
+fected; 
+A poor unmanly melancholy sprung 
+From change of fortune. Why this spade? 
+
+
+this place? 
+
+This slave-like habit? and these looks of 
+care? 
+
+Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie 
+
+
+. soft; 
+Hug their diseased perfumes, and have forgot 
+That ever Timon was. Shame not these 
+woods, 
+By putting on the cunning of a carper. 
+Be thou.a flatterer now, and seek to thrive 210 
+By that which has undone thee: hinge thy 
+
+
+knee, ; 
+And let his very breath, whom thou ‘It ob- 
+serve, 
+Blow off thy cap; praise his most vicious 
+strain, 
+
+
+And call it excellent: thou wast told thus; 
+
+Thou gavest thine ears like tapsters that bid 
+welcome 
+
+To knaves and all approachers: ‘tis most just 
+
+That thou turn rascal; hadst thou wealth 
+
+
+again, 
+Rascals should have 't. Do not assume my 
+likeness. 
+Tim. Were I like thee, I ‘Id throw away 
+myself. 
+Apem, Thou hast cast away thyself, being 
+like thyself ; 220 
+A madman so long, now a fool. What, 
+think’st * 
+That: the bleak air, thy boisterous chamber- 
+lain, 
+Will put thy shirt on warm? will these moss’d 
+trees, 
+
+
+That have outlived the eagle, page thy heels, 
+And skip where thou point’st out? will the 
+cold brook, 
+Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste, 
+To cure thy o’er-night’s surfeit? Call the 
+creatures 
+Whose naked natures live in all the spite 
+Of wreakful heaven, whose bare unhoused 
+trunks, 
+To the conflicting elements exposed, 230 
+Answer mere nature; bid them flatter thee; 
+O, thou shalt find— 
+Tim. A fool of thee: depart. 
+Apem. | love thee better now than e’er I 
+
+
+did. 
+
+
+Tim. I hate thee worse. 
+Apem. Why? 
+Tim. Thou flatter’st misery. 
+
+
+Apem. | flatter not; but say thou art a — 
+caitiff, 
+Tim. Why dost thou seek me out? 
+
+
+Acr IV, Sc. Il] 
+
+
+Apem. To vex thee. 
+Tim. Always a villain’s office or a fool's. 
+Dost please thyself in ’t? 
+Apem. Ay. 
+Tim. What! a knave too? 
+Apem. If thou didst put this sour-cold 
+habit on 239 
+To castigate thy pride, ‘twere well: but thou 
+Dost it enforcedly; thou ‘Idst courtier be 
+again, : 
+Wert thou not beggar. Willing misery 
+Outlives incertain pomp, is crown'd before: 
+The one is filling still, never complete; 
+The ope at high wish: best state, content- 
+ess, 
+Hath a distracted and most wretched being, 
+Worse than the worst, content. 
+Thou shouldst desire to die, being miserable. 
+Tim. Not by his breath that is more mis- 
+erable, 
+Thou art a slave, whom fortune’s tender arm 
+With favour never clasp’d; but bred a dog. 
+Hadst thou, like us from our first swath, 
+proceeded 
+The sweet degrees that this brief world affords 
+To such as may the passive drugs of it 
+Freely command, thou wouldst have plunged 
+thyself 
+In general riot; melted down thy youth 
+In different beds of lust; and never learn’d 
+The icy precepts of respect, but follow'd 
+The sugar’d game before thee. But myself, 
+Who had the world as my confectionary, 260 
+The mouths, the tongues, the eyes and hearts 
+of men 
+At duty, more than I could frame employ- 
+ment, 
+That numberless upon me stuck as leaves 
+Do on the oak, have with one winter's brush 
+Fell from their boughs and left me open, bare 
+For every storm that blows: I, to bear this, 
+That never knew but better, is some burden: 
+Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time 
+Uath made thee hard in't. Why shouldst 
+thou hate men? 
+They never flatter’d thee: what hast thou 
+given? 270 
+If thou wilt curse, thy father, that poor rag, 
+Must be thy subject, who in spite put stuff 
+To some she beggar and compounded thee 
+Poor rogue hereditary. Hence, be gone! 
+If thou hadst not been born the worst of men, 
+Thou hadst been a knave and flatterer. 
+
+
+Apem. Art thou proud yet? 
+
+Tim. Ay, that I am not thee. 
+
+Apem. I, that I was 
+No prodigal. 
+
+Tim. I, that I am one now: 
+
+
+Were all the wealth I have shut up in thee, 
+
+
+TIMON OF ATHENS 
+
+
+94) 
+
+
+I'Id give thee leave to hang it. Get thee 
+gone. 
+That the whole life of Athens were in this! 
+Thus would I eat it. [Ealing a root. 
+Apem. Here; I will mend thy feast. 
+[Offering him a root. 
+Tim. First mend my company, take away 
+thyself. 
+Apem. So I shall mend mine own, by the 
+lack of thine. 
+Tim. ‘Tis not well mended so, it is but 
+botch'd; 
+If not, I would it were. 
+Apem. What wouldst thou have to Ath- 
+ens? 
+Tim. Thee 
+thou wilt, 
+Tell them there I have gold; look, so I have. 
+Apem. Here is no use for gold. 
+Tim, The best and truest; 290 
+For here it sleeps, and does no hired harm. 
+Apem. Where liest o’ nights, Timon> 
+Tim. Under that's above me. 
+Where feedest thou o’ days, Apemantus ? 
+Apem. Where my stomach finds meat; or, 
+rather, where I eat it. 
+Tim. Would poison were obedient and 
+knew my mind! 
+Apem. Where wouldst thou send it? 
+Tim. To sauce thy dishes. 299 
+Apem. The middle of humanity thou never 
+
+
+thither 
+
+
+in a whirlwind. If 
+
+
+| knewest, but the extremity of beth ends: when 
+
+
+thou wast in thy gilt and thy perfume, they 
+mocked thee for teo much curiosity; in thy 
+rags thou knowest none, but art despised for 
+the contrary. There's a medlar for thee, eat it. 
+
+Tim. On what I hate I feed not. 
+
+Apem. Dost hate a medlar> 
+
+Tim. Ay, though it look like thee, 
+
+Apem. An thou hadst hated medlars 
+sooner, thou shouldst have loved thyself better 
+now. What man didst thou ever know un- 
+thrift that was beloved after his means? 
+
+Tim. Who, without those. means 
+talkest of, didst thou ever know beloved > 
+
+Apem. Myself. 
+
+Tim. I understand thee; thou hadst some 
+means to keep a dog. 
+
+Apem. What things in the world canst 
+thou nearest compare to thy flatterers? 319 
+
+Tim. Women nearest; but men, men are 
+the things themselves. What wouldst thou do 
+with the world, Apemantus. if it lay in thy 
+power? 
+
+Apem. Give it to the beasts, to be rid of 
+the men. 
+
+Tim. Wouldst thou have thyself fall in 
+the confusion of men, and remain a beast with 
+the beasts > 
+
+
+thou 
+
+
+942 
+
+
+TIMON OF ATHENS 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc. IJ 
+
+
+—---.——————————————————————————— ee ee 
+
+
+Apem. Ay, Timon. 
+
+Tim. A beastly ambition, which the gods 
+grant thee t’ attain to! If thou wert the lion, 
+the fox would beguile thee: if thou wert the 
+
+
+lamb, the fox would eat thee: if thou wert the| I am sis of this false 
+
+
+fox, the lion would suspect thee, when per- 
+adventure thou wert accused by the ass: if 
+thou wert the ass, thy dulness would torment 
+thee, and still thou livedst but as a breakfast to 
+the wolf: if thou wert the wolf, thy greedi- 
+ness would afflict thee, and oft thou shouldst 
+hazard thy life for thy dinner: wert thou the 
+unicorn, pride and wrath would confound thee 
+and make thine own self the conquest of thy 
+fury: wert thou a bear, thou wouldst be killed 
+by the horse: wert thou a horse, thou wouldst 
+be seized by the leopard: wert thou a leopard, 
+thou wert german to the lion and the spots of 
+thy kindred were jurors on thy life: all thy 
+safety were remotion and thy defence absence. 
+What beast couldst thou be, that were not 
+subject to a beast? and what a beast art thou 
+already, that seest not thy loss in transforma- 
+tion! 349 
+
+Apem. If thou couldst please me with 
+speaking to me, thou mightst have hit upon it 
+here: the commonwealth of Athens is become 
+a forest of beasts. 
+
+Tim. How has the ass broke the wall, that 
+thou art out of the city? 
+
+Apem. Yonder comes a poet and a 
+painter: the plague of company light upon 
+thee! I will fear to catch it, and give way: 
+when I know not what else I'll do, I'll see 
+thee again. 359 
+
+Tim. When there is nothing living but 
+thee, thou shalt be welcome. I had rather be 
+a beggar’s dog than Apemantus. 
+
+Apem. Thou art the cap of all the fools 
+
+
+alive. 
+
+Tim. Would thou wert clean enough to 
+spit upon! 
+
+Apem. A plague on thee! thou art too bad 
+to curse. 
+
+Tim. A\lf villains that do stand by thee are 
+pure. 
+
+Apem. There is no leprosy but what thou 
+‘speak’st. 
+
+Tim. If I name thee. 
+
+
+I'll beat thee, but I should infect my hands. 
+Apem. I would my tongue could rot them 
+off! 370 
+Tim. Away, thou issue of a mangy dog! 
+Choler does kill me that thou art alive; 
+I swound to see thee. 
+Apem. Would thou wouldst burst! 
+Tim. 4 Away, 
+Thou tedious rogue! J am sorry I shall lose 
+A stone by thee. [Throws a stone at him. 
+
+
+Apem. Beast! 
+
+Tim. Slave! 
+
+Apem Toad! 
+
+Tim Rogue, rogue, rogue! 
+
+
+world, and will love 
+nought 
+
+But even the mere necessities upon "t. 
+
+Then, Timon, presently prepare thy grave; 
+
+Lie where the light foam of the sea may beat 
+
+Thy grave-stone daily: make thine epitaph, 
+
+That death in me at others’ lives may laugh. 
+
+[To the gold] O thou sweet king-killer, and 
+dear divorce 
+
+se natural son and sire! thou bright de- 
+
+ler 
+
+Of Hymen’s purest bed! thou valiant Mars! 
+
+Thou ever young, fresh, loved and delicate 
+wooer, 
+
+Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow 
+
+That lies on Dian’s lap! thou yisible god, 
+
+That solder’st close impossibilities, 
+
+And makest them kiss! that speak’st with 
+every tongue, 389 
+
+To every purpose! O thou touch of hearts! 
+
+Think, thy slave man rebels, and by thy virtue 
+
+Set them into confounding odds, that beasts 
+
+May have the world in empire! 
+
+Apem. Would *twere so! 
+But not till I am dead. I'll say thou ’st gold: 
+Thou wilt be throng’d to shortly. 
+
+Tim. Throng’d to! 
+
+Apem. Ay. 
+
+Tim. Thy back, I prithee. 
+
+Apem. Live, and love thy misery. 
+
+Tim. Long live so, and so die. [Exit 
+
+Apemantus.] 1 am quit. 
+Moe things like men! Eat, Timon, and ab- 
+hor them. 
+
+
+Enter Banditti, 
+
+
+First Ban. Where should he have this 
+gold? It is some poor fragment, some slender 
+ort of his remainder: the mere want of gold, 
+and the failing-from of his friends, drove him 
+into this meiancholy, 
+
+Sec. Ban. It is noised he hath a mass of 
+treasure. 
+
+Third Ban. Let us make the assay upon 
+him: if he care not for 't he will supply us 
+easily; if he covetously reserve it, how shall 's 
+get it? 
+
+Sec. Ban. True; for he bears it not abovt 
+
+him, ‘tis hid. 
+
+First Ban. Is not this he? 419 
+
+Banditti, Where? 
+
+Sec. Ban.. "Tis his description. 
+
+Third Ban. He; I know him. 
+
+Banditti. Save thee, Timon. 
+
+
+“Act Iv, Sc. III] 
+
+
+TIMON OF ATHENS 
+
+
+943 
+
+
+Tim. Now, thieves? 
+' Banditti. Soldiers, not thieves. 
+Tim. Both too; and women’s sons. 
+_ Banditti. We are not thieves, but men that 
+much do want. 
+Tim. Your greatest want is, 
+much of meat. 
+Why should you want? 
+
+
+you want 
+
+
+Behold, the earth 
+
+
+hath roots; 420 
+Within ‘this mile break forth a hundred 
+springs; i 
+
+
+The oaks bear mast, the briers scarlet hips; 
+
+
+The bounteous housewite, nature, on each 
+bush 
+Lays her full mess before you. Want! why 
+
+
+want? 
+First Ban. We cannoi live on grass, on 
+berries, water, 
+As beasts and birds and fishes. 
+Tim. Nor on the beasts themselves, the 
+birds, and fishes; 
+You must eat men. 
+con 
+That you are thieves profess'd, that you work 
+’ not 
+In holier shapes: for there is boundless theft 
+In limited professions. Rascal thieves, 431 
+Here’s gold. Go, suck the subtle blood o’ 
+the grape, 
+Till the high fever seethe your blood to froth, 
+And so ‘scape hanging: trust not the physi- 
+clan; é 
+His antidotes are poison, and he slays 
+Moe than you rob: take wealth and lives to- 
+gether; 
+Do villany, do, since you protest to do’t, 
+Like workmen. I'll example you with thiev- 
+ery: 
+The sun’s a thief, and with his great attrac- 
+ton 
+Robs the vast sea: the moon’s an arrant thief, 
+And her pale fire she snatches from the sun: 
+The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves 
+The moon into salt tears: the earth's a thef, 
+That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen 
+From general excrement: each thing's a thief: 
+The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough 
+
+
+Yet thanks I must you 
+
+
+power 
+Have uncheck’d theft. Love not yourselves: 
+away, 
+Rob one another. There’s more gold. Cut 
+throats: 
+All that you meet are thieves: to Athens go, 
+Break open shops; nothing can you steal, 450 
+But thieves do lose it: steal no less for this 
+I give you; and gold confound you whosoe’er! 
+Amen. 
+Third Ban. Has almost charmed me from 
+mv profession. by persuading me to it. 
+
+
+First Ban. ‘Tis in the malice of mankind 
+that he thus advises us; not to have us thrive 
+in our mystery. 
+
+Sec. Ban. I'll believe him as an enemy, 
+and give over my trade. 460 
+
+First Ban. Let us first see peace in Ath- 
+ens: there is no time so miserable but a man 
+may be true. [Exeunt Banditti. 
+
+
+Enter Fiavtius. 
+
+
+Flav. O you gods! 
+Is yond despised and ruinous man my lord? 
+Full of decay and failing? O monument 
+And wonder of good deeds evilly bestow’d! 
+What an alteration of honour 
+Has desperate want made! 469 
+What viler thing upon the earth than friends 
+Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends! 
+How rarely does it meet with this time’s guise, 
+When man was wish'd to love his enemies! 
+Grant I may ever love, and rather woo 
+ibe that would mischief me than those that 
+
+o! 
+Has caught me in his eye: | will present 
+My honest grief unto him; and, as my lord, 
+Sull serve him with my life. My dearest 
+master! 
+Tim. Away! what art thou? 
+
+
+Flav, Have you forgot me, sir? 
+Tim. Why dost ask that? I have forgot 
+all men; 480 
+
+
+Then, if thou grant’st thou ‘rt a man, I have 
+forgot thee, 
+Flav. An honest poor servant of yours. 
+Tim. Then I| know thee not: 
+I never had honest man about me, I; all 
+I kept were knaves, to serve in meat to vil- 
+lains. 
+Flav. The gods are witness, 
+Ne’er did poor steward wear aj truer grief 
+For his undone lord than mine eyes for you. 
+‘Tim. What, dost thou weep? Come 
+nearer. ‘Then I love thee, 
+Because thou art a woman, and disclaim'st 490 
+Flinty mankind; whose eyes do never give 
+But thorough lust’ and laughter. Pity ’s 
+sleeping: 
+Strange times, that weep with laughing, not 
+with weeping! 
+Flav. 1 beg of you to know me, good my 
+lord, 
+To accept my grief and whilst this poor 
+wealth lasts A 
+To entertain me as your steward still. 
+Tim. Had I a steward 
+So true, so just, and now so comfortable? 
+It almost turns my dangerous nature mild. 
+
+
+Let me behold thy face. Surely, thisman 500 
+
+
+944 
+
+
+Was born of woman. 
+
+Forgive my general and exceptless rashness, 
+
+You perpetual-sober gods! 1 do proclaim 
+
+One honest man—mistake me not—but one; 
+
+No more, I pray,—and he’s a steward. 
+
+How fain would I have hated all mankind! 
+
+And thou redeem'st thyself: but all, save 
+thee, 
+
+I fell with curses. 
+
+
+Methinks thou art more honest now than 
+wise; 
+For, by oppressing and betraying me, 510 
+
+
+Thou mightst have sooner got another service: 
+
+For many so arrive at second masters, 
+
+Upon their first lord’s neck, But tell me 
+true— 
+
+For I must ever doubt, though ne’er so sure— 
+
+Is not thy kindness subtle, covetous, 
+
+If not a usuring kindness, and, as rich men 
+deal gifts, 
+
+Expecting in return twenty for one? 
+
+Flay. No, my most worthy master; in 
+
+whose breast 
+
+Doubt and suspect, alas, are placed too late: 
+
+You should have fear’d false times when you 
+did feast: 520 
+
+Suspect still comes where an estate is least. 
+
+That which I show, heaven knows, is merely 
+love, ! 
+
+Duty and zeal to your unmatched mind, 
+
+Care of your food and living; and, believe it, 
+
+My most honour’d lord, 
+
+For any benefit that points to me, 
+
+Either in hope or present, I "ld exchange 
+
+For this one wish, that you had power and 
+wealth 
+
+To requite me, by making rich yourself, 
+
+Tim. Look thee, ‘tis so! Thou singly 
+
+honest man, 530 
+
+Here, take: the gods out of my misery 
+
+Have sent thee treasure. Go, live rich and 
+happy; 
+
+But ie condition’d: 
+men; 
+
+Hate all, curse all, show charity to none, 
+
+But let the famish'd flesh slide from the bone, 
+
+Ere thou relieve the beggar; give to dogs 
+
+What thou deny’st to men; let prisons swal- 
+low em, 
+
+Debts wither ‘em to nothing; be men like 
+blasted woods, 
+
+And may diseases lick up their false bloods! 
+
+And so farewell and thrive. 
+
+Flay. O, let me stay, 540 
+And comfort you,* my master. 
+
+Tim. If thou hatest curses, 
+Stay not; fly, whilst thou art blest and free: 
+Ne’er see thou man, and let me ne’er see thee. 
+
+[Exit Flavius. Timon retires to his cave. 
+
+
+thou shalt build from 
+
+
+TIMON OF ATHENS 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. I 
+
+
+ACT V. 
+
+
+Scene |. The woods. Before Timon's cave. 
+
+
+Enter Poet and Painter; Timon watching 
+them from his cave. 
+
+
+Pain. As I took note of the place, it can- 
+not be far where he abides. 
+
+Poet. What's to be thought of him? does 
+the rumour hold for true, that he’s so full of 
+gold? : 
+
+Pain. Certain: Alcibiades reports it; 
+Phyrnia and Timandra had gold of him: he 
+likewise enriched poor straggling soldiers with 
+great quantity: ‘tis said he gave unto his 
+steward a mighty sum. 
+
+Poet. Then this breaking of his has been 
+but a try for his friends, 11 
+
+Pain. Nothing else: you shall see him a 
+palm in Athens again, and flourish with the 
+highest. Therefore ‘tis not amiss we tender 
+our loves to him, in this supposed distress of 
+his: it will show honestly in us; and is very 
+likely to load our purposes with what they 
+travail for, if it be a just and true report thai 
+goes of his having. 
+
+Poet. What have you now to present unto 
+him? 
+
+Pain. Nothing at this time but my visita- 
+tion: only I will promise him an excellent 
+piece. 7A 
+
+Poet. 1 musi serve him so too, tell him of 
+an intent that’s coming toward him. 
+
+Pain. Good as the best. Promising is the 
+very air o the time: it opens the eyes of 
+expectation: performance is ever the duller for 
+his act; and, but in the plainer and simpler 
+kind of people, the deed of saying is quite out 
+of use. To promise is most courtly and fash- 
+ionable: performance is a kind of will or 
+testament which argues a great sickness in his 
+judgement that makes it. 
+
+[Timon comes from his cave, behind. 
+
+Tim. [Aside] Excellent workman! thou 
+canst not paint a man so bad as is thyself. 
+
+Poet. 1 am thinking what I shall say I 
+have provided for him: it must be a personat- 
+ing of himself; a satire against the softness of 
+prosperity, with a discovery of the infinite 
+flatteries that follow youth and opulency. 
+
+Tim. [Aside] Must thou needs stand for a 
+villain in thine own work? wilt thou whip 
+thine own faults in other men? Do so, I have 
+gold for thee. 
+
+Poet. Nay, let’s seek him: 
+
+Then do we sin against our own estate, 
+When we may profit meet, and come too late. 
+
+Pain. True; 
+
+When ihe day serves, before black-corner’d 
+night, 
+
+
+as 
+
+
+é 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. I] 
+
+
+Find what thou want'st by free and offer'd 
+night. 
+Come. 
+Tim. [Aside] I'll meet you at the turn. 
+What a god's gold, 50 
+That he is worshipp’d in a baser temple 
+Than where swine feed! 
+’Tis thou that rigg’st the bark and plough’st the 
+foam, 
+Settlest admired reverence in a slave: 
+To thee be worship! and thy saints for aye 
+Be crown’d with plagues that thee alone obey! 
+Fit 1 meet them. [Coming forward. 
+Poet. Hail, worthy Timon! 
+
+
+Pain. Our late noble master! 
+
+Tim. Have I once lived to see two honest 
+men? 
+
+Poet. Sir, 60 
+
+
+Having often of your open bounty tasted, 
+Hearing you were retired, your friends fall’n 
+
+
+on, 
+Whose thankless natures-—O abhorred spirits! — 
+Not all the whips of heaven are large enough: 
+What! to you, 
+Whose star-like nobleness gave life and in- 
+fluence 
+To their whole being! I am rapt and cannot 
+cover 
+The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude 
+With any size of words. 
+Tim. Let it go naked, men may see't the 
+better: 70 
+You that are honest, by being what you are, 
+Make them best seen and known. 
+
+Pain. He and myself 
+Have travail'’d in the great shower of your gifts, 
+And sweetly felt it. 
+
+Tim. Ay, you are honest men. 
+
+Pain. We are hither come to offer you our 
+
+service. 
+
+Tim. Most honest men! Why, how shall I 
+
+requite you? 
+Can you eat roots, and drink cold water? no. 
+
+Both. What we can do, we'll do, to do 
+
+you service. 
+
+Tim. Ye're honest men: ye ve heard that 
+
+I have gold; g 
+I am sure you have: speak truth; ye ’re honest 
+men. 
+
+Pain. So it is said, my noble lord; but 
+
+therefore 
+Came not my friend nor I. 
+Tim. Good honest men! 
+counterfeit 
+Best in all Athens: thou ‘rt, indeed, the best; 
+Thou counterfeit’st most lively. 
+
+
+Thou draw’st a 
+
+
+Pain. So, so, my lord. 
+Tim. E’en so, sir, as I say. And, for thy 
+fiction, 
+
+
+TIMON OF AIHENS 
+
+
+945 
+
+
+Why, thy verse swells with stuff so fine and 
+smoot 
+
+That thou art even natural in thine art. 
+
+But, for all this, my honest-natured friends, 
+
+I must needs say you have a little fault: 90 
+
+Marry, ‘tis not monstrous in you, neither wish | 
+
+You take much pains to mend. 
+
+
+Both. Beseech your honour 
+To make it known to us. 
+Tim. You'll take it ill. 
+
+
+Both. Most thankfully, my lord. 
+Tim. Will you, indeed? 
+Both. Doubt it not, worthy lord. 
+Tim. There's never one of you but trusts 
+
+
+a knave, 
+That mightily deceives you. 
+Both. Do we, my lora? 
+
+
+Tim. Ay, and you hear him cog, see him 
+dissemble, 
+Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him, 
+Keep in your bosom: yet remain assured 100 
+That he's a made-up villain. 
+Pain. I know none such, my lord. 
+Poet. Nor I. 
+Tim. Look you, I love you well; I'll give 
+you gold, 
+Rid me these villains from your companies: 
+Hang them or stab them, drown them in a 
+draught, 
+Confound them by some course, and come to 
+
+
+me, 
+I'll give you gold enough. 
+Both. Name them, my lord, let’s know 
+them. 
+Tim. You that way and you this, but two 
+in company ; 
+Each man apart, all single and alone, 
+Yet an arch-villain keeps him company. 
+If where thou art two villains shall not be, 
+Come not near him. If thou wouldst not 
+reside 
+But where one villain is, then him abandon. 
+Hence, pack! there’s gold; you came for 
+gold, ye slaves: 
+[To Painter] You have work'd for me; 
+there’s payment for you: hence! 
+[To Poet] You are an alchemist; make gold 
+of that. 
+Out, rascal dogs! 
+
+
+110 
+
+
+[Beats them out, and then 
+retires to his cave. 
+
+
+Enter Fiavius and two Senators. 
+
+
+Flay. It is in vain that you would speak 
+with Timon; 
+For he is set so only to himseir 120 
+That nothing but himself which looks like man 
+Is friendly with him. 
+First Sen. 
+
+
+Bring us to his cave: 
+
+
+| It is our part and promise to the Athenians 
+
+
+946 
+
+
+TIMON OF ATHENS 
+
+
+[Acr V, Sc. I 
+
+
+To speak with Timon. 
+Sec. Sen. At all times alike 
+Men are not still the same: ‘twas time and 
+griefs 
+That framed him thus: time, with his fairer 
+hand, 
+Offering the fortunes of his former days, 
+The former man may make him. Bring us to 
+
+
+him, 
+And chance it as it may. 
+Flav. Here is his cave. 
+Peace and conient be here! Lord Timon! 
+Timon! 130 
+
+
+Look out, and speak to friends: the Athenians, 
+
+By two of their most reverend senate, greet 
+thee: 
+
+Speak to them, noble Timon. 
+
+
+TIMON comes from his cave. 
+
+
+Tim. Thou sun, _ that 
+
+Speak, and be hang'd: 
+
+For each true word, a blister! and each false 
+
+Be as a cauterizing to the root o’ the tongue, 
+Consuming it with speaking! 
+
+
+comfort’st, burn! 
+
+
+First Sen. Worthy Timon,— 
+Tim. Of none but such as you, and you of 
+Timon. 
+
+
+First Sen. The senators of Athens greet 
+thee, Timon. 
+Tim. I thank them; and would send them 
+
+
+back the plague, 140 
+Could I but catch it for them. 
+
+First Sen. O, forget 
+What we are sorry for ourselves in thee. 
+The senators with one consent of love 
+Entreat thee back to Athens; who have 
+
+thought 
+
+
+On special dignities, which vacant lie 
+For thy best use and wearing. 
+
+Sec. Sen. They confess 
+Toward the forgetfulness too general, gross: 
+Which now the public body, which doth seldom 
+Play the recanter, feeling in itself 
+A lack of Timon’s aid, hath sense withal 150 
+Of it own fail, restraining aid to Timon; 
+And send forth us, to make their sorrow'd 
+
+render, 
+Together with a recompense more fruitful 
+Than their offence can weigh down by the 
+
+
+dram; 
+
+Ay, even such heaps and sums of love and 
+wealth 
+
+As shall to thee blot out what wrongs were 
+theirs 
+
+
+And write in thee the figures of their love, 
+Ever to read them thine. 
+
+Tim. You witch me in it; 
+Surprise me to the very brink of tears: 
+Lend me a fool’s heart and a woman’s eyes, 
+
+
+And I'll beweep these comforts, worthy sena- 
+
+tors. 161 
+First Sen. Therefore, so please thee to re- 
+
+turn with us 
+
+And of our Athens, thine and ours, to take 
+
+The captainship, thou shalt be met with thanks, 
+
+Allow'd with absolute power and thy good 
+name 
+
+
+Live with authority: so soon we shall drive 
+
+
+back 
+Of Alcibiades the approaches wild, 
+Who, like a boar too savage, doth root up 
+His country’s peace. 
+Sec. Sen. And shakes his threatening sword 
+Against the walls of Athens. 
+First Sen. Therefore, Timon,— 
+Tim. Well, sir, I will; therefore, I will, 
+sir; thus: 
+If Alcibiades kill my countrymen, 
+Let Alcibiades know this of Timon, 
+That Timon cares not. But if he sack fair 
+Athens, 
+And take our goodly aged men by the beards, 
+Giving our holy virgins to the stain 
+Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain’d war 
+Then let him know, and tell him Timon 
+speaks it, 
+In pity of our aged and our youth, 
+I cannot choose but tell him, that I care not, 
+And let him take ’t at worst; for their knives 
+care not, 180 
+While you have throats to answer: for myself, 
+There 's not a whittle in the unruly camp 
+But I do prize it at my love before 
+
+
+The reverend’st throat in Athens. So I leave 
+
+
+you 
+To the protection of the prosperous gods, 
+As thieves to keepers. 
+Flay. Stay not, all's in vain. 
+Tim. Why, I was writing of my epitaph; 
+It will be seen to-morrow: my long sickness 
+Of health and living now begins to mend, 190 
+And nothing brings me all things. Go, live 
+still; 
+Be Alcibiades your plague, you his, 
+And last so long enough! 
+_ First Sen. We speak in vain. 
+Tim. But yet I love my country, and am 
+not 
+One that rejoices in the common wreck, 
+As common bruit doth put it. 
+First Sen. That's well spoke. 
+Tim. Commend me to my loving country- 
+men,— 
+First Sen. These words become your lips 
+as they pass thorough them. 
+Sec. Sen. And enter in our ears like great 
+triumphers 199 
+In their applauding gates, 
+
+
+oe 
+
+
+Act Ve Sc. IV] TIMON OF ATHENS 947 
+Ne aa aaa Se a 
+Tim. Commend me to them, | +Yet our old love made a particular force, 
+
+
+And tell them that, to ease them of their griefs, 
+Their fears of hostile strokes, their aches, 
+1 losses, 
+
+Their pangs of love, with other incident throes 
+That nature’s fragile vessel doth sustain 
+
+In life’s uncertain voyage, | will some kind- 
+
+ness do them: 
+‘I'll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades’ 
+
+
+And made us speak like friends: this man 
+was riding 
+From Alcibiades to Timon’s cave, 10 
+With letters of entreaty, which imported 
+His fellowship i’ the cause against your city, 
+In part for his sake moved. 
+First Sen. Here come our brothers. 
+
+
+Enter the Senators from T1MON. 
+
+
+wrath. 
+
+First Sen. I like this well; he will return.| Third Sen. No talk of Timon, nothing 
+again. of him expect. 
+
+Tim. 1 have a tree, which grows here in The enemies’ drum is heard, and fearful 
+my close, scouring 
+
+
+That mine own use invites me to cut down, 
+And shortly must I fell it: tell my friends, 210 
+Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree 
+From high to low throughout, that whoso 
+please 
+
+To stop affliction, let him take his haste, 
+"Come hither, ere my tree hath felt the axe, 
+And hang himself. I pray you, do my greeting. 
+
+
+Doth choke the air with dust: in, and prepare: 
+Ours is the fall, 1 fear; our foes the snare. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. The woods. Timon’s cave, and 
+a rude tomb seen. 
+Enter a Soldier, seeking TiMon. 
+Sold. By all description this should be the 
+
+
+Flav. Trouble him no further; thus you lace. 
+still shall find him. Who's here? speak, ho! No answer! What 
+Tim. Come not to me again: but say to is this? 
+
+
+Athens, 
+
+
+Timon is dead, who hath outstretch’d his span: 
+Timon hath made his everlasting mansion 
+
+
+Some beast rear’d this; there does not live a 
+
+
+Upon the beached verge of the salt flood; man. 
+Who once a day with his embossed froth 220 | Dead, sure; and this his grave. What’s on 
+The turbulent surge shall cover: thither come, this tomb 
+
+
+I cannot read; the character I ‘Il take with wax: 
+Our captain hath in every figure skill, 
+
+An aged interpreter, though young in days: 
+Before proud Athens he’s set down by this, 
+
+
+And let my grave-stone be your oracle. 
+
+Lips, let sour words go by and language end: 
+What is amiss plague and infection mend! 
+Graves only be men’s works and death their 
+
+
+_ gain! Whose fall the mark of his ambition is. 10 
+Sun, hide thy beams! Timon hath done his [ Exit. 
+reign. ; [Retires to his cave. 
+First Sen. His discontents are unremove- Scene IV. Before the walls of Athens. 
+ably Trumpets sound. Enter ALCIBIADES with 
+
+
+Coupled to nature. his powers. 
+
+
+Sec. Sen. Our hope in him is dead: let us 
+return, 229 
+And strain what other means is left unto us 
+In our dear peril. 
+First Sen. It requires swift foot. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. Before the walls of Athens. 
+Enter two Senators and a Messenger. 
+First Sen. Thou hast painfully discover’d: 
+are his files 
+As full as thy report? 
+Mess. I have spoke the least: 
+Besides, his expedition promises 
+Present approach. 
+Sec. Sen. We stand much hazard, if they 
+bring not Timon. 
+Mess. 1 met a courier, one mine ancient 
+friend; 
+Whom, though in general part we were opposed, 
+
+
+Alcib.. Sound to this coward and lascivious 
+town 
+
+
+Our terrible approach. [A parley sounded, 
+Enter Senators on the walls. 
+
+
+Till now you have gone on and fil’d the time 
+
+With all licentious measure, making your wills 
+
+The scope of justice; til! now myself and such 
+
+As slept within the shadow of your power 
+
+Have wander'd with our traversed arms and 
+breathed 
+
+Our sufferance vainly: now the time is flush, 
+
+When crouching marrow in the bearer strong 
+
+Cries of itself ‘No more:’ now breathless 
+wrong 
+
+Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of ease, 
+
+And pursy insolence shall break his wind 
+
+With fear and horrid flight. 
+
+First Sen. Noble and young, 
+
+
+948 
+
+
+TIMON OF ATHENS 
+
+
+[Acr V, Sc. IV 
+
+
+When thy first griefs were but a mere conceit, 
+Ere thou hadst power or we had cause of fear, 
+We sent to thee, to give thy rages balm, 
+To wipe out our ingratitude with loves 
+Above their quantity. 
+Sec. Sen. So did we woo 
+Transformed Timon to our city’s love 
+By humble message and by promised means: 
+We were not all unkind, nor all deserve 21 
+The common stroke of war. 
+First Sen. These walls of ours 
+Were not erected by their hands from whom 
+You have received your griefs; nor are they 
+such 
+
+That these great towers, trophies and schools 
+should fall 
+
+For private faults in them. 
+
+Sec. Sen. Nor are they living 
+Who were the motives that you first went out; 
+Shame that they wanted cunning, in excess 
+Hath broke their hearts. March, noble lord, 
+Into our city with thy banners spread: 30 
+By decimation, and a tithed death— 
+
+If thy revenges hunger for that food 
+
+Which nature loathes—take thou the destined 
+tenth, 
+
+And by the hazard‘of the spotted die 
+
+Let die the spotted. 
+
+First Sen. All have not offended; 
+
+For those that were, it is not square to take 
+On those that are, revenges: crimes, like lands, 
+Are not inherited. Then, dear countryman, 
+Bring in thy ranks, but leave without thy rage: 
+Spare thy Athenian cradle and those kin 40 
+Which in the bluster of thy wrath must fall 
+With those that have offended: like a shep- 
+herd, 
+
+Approach the fold and cull the infected forth, 
+But kill not all together. 
+
+Sec. Sen. What thou wilt, 
+
+Thou rather shalt enforce with thy smile 
+Than hew to 't with thy sword. 
+
+First Sen. Set but thy foot 
+
+Against our rampired gates, and they shall 
+ope; 
+
+So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before, 
+
+To say thou ‘It enter friendly. 
+
+Sec. Sen. Throw thy glove, 
+Or any token of thine honour else, 
+
+
+That thou wilt use the wars as thy redress 
+And not as our confusion, all thy powers 
+Shall make their harbour in our town, till we 
+Have seal’d thy full desire. 
+
+Alcib. Then there's my glove; 
+Descend, and open your uncharged ports: 
+Those enemies of Timon’s and mine own 
+Whom you yourselves shall set out for reproof 
+Fall and no more: and, to atone your fears 
+With my more noble meaning, not a man 
+Shall pass his quarter, or offend the stream 60 
+Of regular justice in your city’s bounds, 
+
+But shall be render’d to your public laws 
+At heaviest answer. 
+
+Both. ‘Tis most nobly spoken. 
+
+Alcib. Descend, and keep your words. 
+
+[The Senators descend, and open the gates, 
+
+
+Enter Soldier. 
+Sold. My noble general, Timon is dead; 
+
+
+Entomb'd upon the very hem o’ the sea; 
+
+And on his grave-stone this insculpture, which 
+
+With wax I brought away, whose soft im- 
+pression 
+
+Interprets for my poor ignorance, 
+
+Alcib. [Reads the epitaph] ‘Here lies a 
+
+wretched corse, of wretched soul bereft: 
+
+Seek not my name: a plague consume you 
+wicked caitiffs left! 
+
+Here lie 1, Timon; who, alive, all living men 
+
+
+did hate: 
+
+
+Pass by and curse thy fill, but pass and stay . 
+
+
+not here thy gait.’ 
+These well expréss in thee thy latter spirits: 
+Though thou abhorr'dst in us our human griefs, 
+Scorn'dst our brain's flow and those our drop- 
+lets which 
+From niggard nature fall, yet rich conceit 
+Taught thee to make vast Neptune weep for 
+
+
+aye 
+On thy low grave, on faults forgiven. Dead 
+Is noble Timon: of whose memory 80 
+
+
+Hereafter more. Bring me into your city, 
+
+And I will use the olive with my sword, 
+
+Make war breed peace, make peace stint war, 
+make each 
+
+Prescribe to other as each other's leech. 
+
+Let our drums strike. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+JULIUS 
+
+
+CASAR 
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSON/E. 
+
+
+Junius Cz#sar. 
+
+Octavius CsaR, triumvirs after the 
+Marcus ANTONIUS, death of Julius 
+M. AEmi.ius Lepipus, Cesar. 
+
+CICERO, ) 
+PuBLivus, 
+Popitius LENA, 
+Marcus Brutus, 
+
+
+senators. 
+
+
+Cassius, 
+
+Casca, 
+
+TREBONIUS, conspirators against 
+_ Licarius, { Julius Cesar. 
+
+
+Decius Brutus, | 
+MeETELLUs CIMBER, 
+CINNA, 
+_ Fravius and Maru wus, tribunes. 
+Artemiporus of Cnidos, a_ teacher of 
+Rhetoric. 
+A Soothsayer. 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+Scene I. Rome. A street. 
+Enter Fxuavius, Marutius, and certain 
+Commoners. 
+
+
+Fiav. Hence! home, you idle creatures, 
+get you home: 
+Is this a holiday? what! know you not, 
+Being mechanical, you ought not walk 
+Upon a labouring day without the sign 
+Of your profession? Speak, what trade art 
+thou ? 
+First Com. Why, sir, a carpenter. 
+Mar. Where is thy leather apron and thy 
+rule? 
+What dost thou with thy best apparel on? 
+You, sir, what trade are you? 9 
+
+Sec. Com. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine 
+workman, I am but, as you would say, a 
+cobbler. 
+
+Mar. But what trade art thou? answer me 
+
+directly. 
+
+Sec. Com. A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may 
+use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, 
+sir, a mender of bad soles. 
+
+Mar. What trade, thou knave? thou naughty 
+
+knave, what trade? 
+
+Sec. Com. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not 
+out with me: yet, if you be out, sir, 1 can 
+mend you. 
+
+
+CINNA, a poet. Another Poet. 
+Luci.ius, 
+TITINIUvs, 
+
+
+, 
+
+MEssALA, | friends to Brutus and 
+| 
+“ 
+
+
+Cassius. 
+Young Cato, 
+
+
+VoLUMNIUS, 
+Varro, 
+CuitTus, 
+CLaupIus, 
+STRATO, 
+Lucius, 
+DarDaNIUs, 
+PINDARUS, servant to Cassius. 
+CaLPuRNIA, wife to Cesar. 
+Portia, wife to Brutus. 
+
+
+1 
+| 
+} servants to Brutus. 
+| 
+
+
+Senators, Citizens, Guards, Attendants, &c. 
+
+
+ScENE: Rome: the neighbourhood of Sardis: 
+the neighbourhood of Philippi. 
+
+
+Mar. What meanest thou by that? mend 
+me, thou saucy fellow! 21 
+
+Sec. Com. Why, sir, cobble you. 
+
+Flav. Thou art a cobbler, art thou? 
+
+Sec. Com. Truly, sir, all that I live by 1s 
+with the awl: I meddle with no tradesman’s 
+matters, nor women’s matters, but with awl. 
+I am, indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes; 
+when they are in great danger, I recover them. 
+As proper men as ever trod upon neat's 
+leather have gone upon my handiwork. 30 
+
+Flav. But wherefore art not in thy shop 
+
+to-day ? 
+Why dost thou lead these men about the 
+streets > 
+
+Sec. Com. Truly, sir, to wear out their 
+shoes, to get myself into more work. But, 
+indeed, sir, we make holiday, to see Czesar 
+and to rejoice in his triumph. 
+
+Mar. Wherefore rejoice? 
+
+brings he home? 
+What tributaries follow him to Rome, 
+To grace in captive bonds kis chariot-wheels? 
+You blocks, you stones, you worse thaz 
+
+senseless things! ¢ 
+O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome, 
+Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft 
+Haye you climb’d up to walls and battlements, 
+To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops, 
+Your infants in your arms, and there have sat 
+
+
+What conquest 
+
+
+949 
+
+
+950 
+
+
+The live-long day, with patient expectation, 
+To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome: 
+And when you saw his chariot but appear, 
+Have you not made an universal shout, 
+That Tiber trembled underneath her banks, 50 
+To hear the replication of your sounds 
+Made in her concave shores? 
+And do you now put on your best attire? 
+And do you now cull out a holiday? 
+And do you now strew flowers in his way 
+That comes in triumph over Pompey’s blood? 
+Be gone! 
+Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, 
+Pray to the gods to intermit the plague 
+That needs must light on this ingratitude. 60 
+Flav. Go, go, good countrymen, and, for 
+this fault, 
+Assemble all the poor men of your sort; 
+Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your 
+tears 
+Into the channel, till the lowest stream 
+Do kiss the most exalted shores of all. 
+[Exeunt all the Commoners. 
+See, whether their basest metal be not moved; 
+They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness. 
+Go you down that way towards the Capitol; 
+This way will I: disrobe the images, 
+If you do find them deck’d with ceremonies. 
+Mar. May we do so? 
+You know it is the feast of Lupercal. 
+Flav. It is no matter; let no images 
+Be hung with Cesar’s trophies. I "Il about, 
+And drive away the vulgar from the streets; 
+So do you too, where you perceive them thick. 
+These growing feathers pluck’d from Cesar’s 
+wing 
+Will make him fly an ordinary pitch, 
+Who else would soar above the view of men 
+And keep us all in servile fearfulness. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. A public place. 
+Flourish, Enter Cmsar; ANTONY, for the 
+course; CALPURNIA, Portia, Dectus, C1- 
+cERO, Brutus, Cassius, and Casca; a 
+greal crowd following, among them a Sooth- 
+
+
+sayer. 
+
+Ces. Calpurnia! 
+
+Casca. Peace, ho! Cesar speaks. 
+Ces. Calpurnia! 
+
+
+Cal. Here, my lord. 
+
+Ces, Stand you directly in Antonius’ way, 
+When he doth run his course. Antonius! 
+
+Ant. Cesar, my lord? 
+
+Ces. Forget not, in your speed, Antonius, 
+To touch Calpurnia; for our elders say, 
+The barren, touched in this holy chase, 
+Shake off their sterile curse. 
+
+Ant. I shall remember: 
+When Casar says ‘do this,’ it is perform’d. 10 
+
+
+JULIUS CAESAR 
+
+
+[Act I, Se. Il 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+Ces. Set on; and leave no ceremony out. 
+[Flourish. 
+Sooth. Cesar! 
+Ces. Ha! who calls? 
+Casca. Bid every noise be still: peace yet 
+again! 
+Ces, Who is it in the press that calls on me? 
+I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music, 
+Cry ‘Cesar!’ Speak; Caesar is turn’d to hear, 
+Sooth. Beware the ides of March. 
+Ces. What man is that? 
+Bru. A soothsayer bids you beware the 
+ides of March. 
+Ces. Set him before me; let me see his 
+face. 20 
+Cas. Fellow, come from the throng; look 
+upon Caesar. 
+Ces. What say’st thou to me now? speak 
+once again. 
+Sooth. Beware the ides of Merch. 
+Ces. He is a dreamer; let us leave him: 
+pass. [Sennet. Exeunt all excepi 
+Brutus and Cassius. 
+Cas. Will you go see the order of the 
+course ? 
+Bru. Not I. 
+Cas. I pray you, do. 
+Bru. 1 am not gamesome: I do lack some 
+part 
+Of that quick spirit that is in Antony. 
+Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires; 
+I'll leave you. 
+Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of late: 
+I have not from your eyes that gentleness 
+And show of love as I was wont to have: 
+You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand 
+Over your friend ihat loves you. 
+Bra. Cassius, 
+Be not deceived: if I have veil’d my look, 
+I turn the trouble of my countenance 
+Merely upon myself. Wexed I am 
+Of late with passions of some difference, 
+Conceptions only proper to myself, 
+Which give some soil perhaps to my be- 
+haviours; 
+But let not therefore my good friends be 
+grieved— 
+Among which number, Cassius, be you one— 
+Nor construe any further my neglect, 
+Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war, 
+Forgets the shows of love to other men. 
+Cas. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook 
+your passion; 
+By means whereof this breast of mine hath 
+buried 
+Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations. 
+Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face? 
+Bru. No, Cassius; for the eye sees not 
+itself. 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+Act I, Se. I] _ 
+
+
+JULIUS CAESAR 
+
+
+We 
+
+
+95) 
+
+
+eee 
+
+
+But by reflection, by some other things. 
+Cas. ‘Tis just: 
+And it is very much lamented, Brutus, 
+That you have no such mirrors as will turn 
+Your hidden worthiness into your eye, 
+That you might see your shadow. I have 
+heard, 
+Where many of the best respect in Rome, 
+Except immortal Cesar, speaking of Brutus 
+And groaning underneath this age’s yoke, 
+Have wish’d that noble Brutus had his eyes. 
+Bru. Into what dangers would you lead 
+me, Cassius, 
+That you would have me seek into myself 
+For that which is not in me? 
+Cas. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared 
+to hear: 
+And since you know you cannot see yourself 
+So well as by reflection, I, your glass, 
+Will modestly discover to yourself 
+That of yourself which you yet know not of. 
+-And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus; 
+Were I a common laugher, or did use 
+To stale with ordinary oaths my love 
+To every new protester; if you know 
+That I do fawn on men and hug them hard 
+And after scandal them, or if you know 
+That I profess myself in banqueting 
+To all the rout, then hold me dangerous. 
+[Flourish, and shout. 
+Bru. What means this shouting? I do 
+fear, the people 
+Choose Cesar for their king. 
+Cas. Ay, do you fear it? 80 
+Then must I think you would not have it so. 
+Bru. | would not, Cassius; yet | love him 
+well. 
+But wherefore do you hold me here so long? 
+What is it that you would impart to me? 
+If it be aught toward the general good, 
+Set honour in one eye and death 1’ the other, 
+And I will look on both indifferently: 
+For let the gods so speed me as I love 
+The name of honour more than I fear death. 
+Cas. I know that virtue to be in you, 
+Brutus, 
+As well as I do know your outward favour. 
+Well, honour is the subject of my story. 
+I cannot tell what you and other men 
+Think of this life; but, for my single self, 
+I had as lief not be as live to be * 
+In awe of such a thing as I myself. 
+I was born free as Caesar; so were you: 
+We both have fed as well, and we can both 
+Endure the winter's cold as well as he: 
+For once, upon a raw and gusty day, 100 
+The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores, 
+Cesar said to me ‘Darest thou, Cassius, now 
+Leap in with me into this angry flood, 
+
+
+And swim to yonder point?’ Upon the word, 
+
+Accoutred as I was, I plunged in 
+
+And bade him follow; so indeed he did. 
+
+The torrent roar’d, and we did buffet it 
+
+With lusty sinews, throwing it aside 
+
+And stemming it with hearts of controversy ; 
+
+But ere we could arrive the point proposed. 
+
+Cesar cried ‘Help me, Cassius, or I sink!” 
+
+I, as /Eneas, our great ancestor, 
+
+Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder 
+
+The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of 
+Tiber 
+
+Did I the tired Cesar. And this man 
+
+Is now become a god, and Cassius is 
+
+A wretched creature and must bend his body, 
+
+If Cesar carelessly but nod on him. 
+
+He had a fever when he was in’ Spain, 
+
+And when the fit was on‘him, I did mark 120 
+
+How he did shake: ‘tis true, this god did 
+shake: 
+
+His coward lips did from their colour fly. 
+
+And that same eye whose bend doth awe the 
+world : 
+
+Did lose his lustre: I did hear him groan: 
+
+Ay, and that tongue of his that bade the 
+Romans 
+
+Mark him and write his speeches in their books, 
+
+Alas, it cried “Give me some drink, Titinius,’ 
+
+As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me 
+
+A man of such a feeble temper should 
+
+So get the start of the majestic world 136 
+
+And bear the palm alone. [Shout, Flourish. 
+
+Bru. Another general shout!” 
+
+I do believe that these applauses are 
+
+For some new honours that are heap’d on 
+Cesar. les 
+
+Cas. Why, man, he dotli bestride the nay- 
+
+row world 
+
+Like a Colossus, and we petty men 
+
+Walk under his huge legs and peep about 
+
+To find ourselves dishonourable graves. 
+
+Men at some time are masters of their fates: 
+
+The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, 140 
+
+But in ourselves, that we are underlings. 
+
+Brutus and Cesar: what should be in that 
+*Czsar’? 
+
+Why should that name be sounded more than 
+yours? 
+
+Write them together, yours is as fair a name; 
+
+Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well; 
+
+Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with “em, 
+
+Bratus will start a spirit as soon as Caesar. ~ 
+
+Now, in the names of all the gods at once, 
+
+Upon what meat doth this our Czsar feed, 
+
+That he is grown so great? Age, thou art 
+shamed! 15¢ 
+
+Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods! 
+
+When went there by an age, since the greet 
+flood, 
+
+
+952 JULIUS 
+
+
+But’it was famed with more than with one 
+¥ man? 
+When could they éay till now, that talk’d of 
+Rome, 
+That her wide walls encompass’d but one man? 
+Now is it Rome indeed and room enough, 
+When there is in it but one only man. 
+O, you and I have heard our fathers say, 
+There was a Brutus once that would have 
+brook’d 
+The eternal devil to keep his state in Rome 
+As easily as a king. 
+Bru. That you do love me, I am nothing 
+jealous; 
+What you would work me to, I have some aim: 
+How I have thought of this and of these times, 
+I shall recount hereafter; for this present, 
+I would not, so with love I might entreat you, 
+Be'any further moved. What you have said 
+I will consider; what you have to say 
+J will with patience hear, and find a time 
+Both meet to hear and answer such high 
+things. 170 
+Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this: 
+Brutus had rather be a villager 
+Than to repute himself a son of Rome 
+Under these hard conditions as this time 
+Is like to lay upon us. 
+Cas. I am glad that my weak words 
+Have struck but thus much show of fire from 
+
+
+Brutus. 
+
+Bru. The games are done and Cesar 1s 
+returning. 
+
+Cas. As they pass by, pluck Casca by the 
+sleeve; 
+
+
+And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you 
+What hath proceeded worthy note to-day. 
+
+
+Re-enter Cfzsar and his Train. 
+
+
+Bru. 1 will do so. But, look you, Cassius, 
+The angry spot doth glow on Cesar’s brow, 
+And all the rest look like a chidden train: 
+Calpurnia’s cheek is pale; and Cicero 
+Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes 
+As we have seen him in the Capitol, 
+
+Being cross’d in conference by some senators. 
+
+Cas. Casca will tell us what the matter is. 
+
+
+Ces, Antonius! 190 
+
+Ant. Cesar? 
+
+Ces, Let me have men about me that are 
+far: 
+
+
+Sleek-headed men and such as sleep o’ nights: 
+Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look; 
+He thinks too much: such men are dangerous. 
+Ant: Fear him not, Cesar; he’s not dan- 
+gerous; 
+He is a noble Roman and well given. 
+Ces. Would he were fatter! But I fear 
+him not: 
+
+
+CESAR [Acr I, Sc. It 
+
+
+Yet if my name were liable to fear, 
+I do not know the man I should avoid 
+So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much; 
+He is a great observer and he looks 
+Quite through the deeds of men; he loves no 
+plays, 
+As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music; 
+Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort 
+As if he mock’d himself and scorn’d his spirit 
+That could be moved to smile at any thing. 
+Such men as he be never at heart’s ease 
+Whiles they behold a greater than themselves, 
+And therefore are they very dangerous. 210 
+I rather tell thee what is to be fear’d 
+Than what I fear; for always I am Cesar. 
+Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf, 
+And tell me truly what thou think’st of him, 
+[Sennet. Exeunt Cesar and all his 
+Train, but Casca. 
+Casca. You pull'd me by the cloak; would 
+you speak with me? 
+Bru. Ay, Casca; tell us what hath chanced 
+to-day, 
+That Cesar looks so sad. 
+Casca. Why, you were with him, were you 
+not? 
+Bru. 1 should not then ask Casca what had 
+chanced. 219 
+Casca. Why, there was a crown offered 
+him: and being offered him, he put it by with 
+the back of his hand, thus; and then the peo- 
+ple fell a-shouting. 
+Bru. What was the second noise for? 
+Casca. Why, for that too. 
+Cas. They shouted thrice: what was the 
+last cry for? 
+Casca. Why, for that too. 
+Bru. Was the crown offered him thrice? 
+Casca. Ay, marry, was't, and he put it by 
+thrice every time gentler than other, and at 
+every putting-by mine honest neighbours 
+shouted. 231 
+Cas. Who offered him the crown? 
+Casca. Why, Antony. 
+Bru. Tell us the manner of it, gentle 
+Casca. 
+Casca. I can as well be hanged as tell the 
+manner of it: it was mere foolery; I did not 
+mark it. I saw Mark Antony offer him a 
+
+
+crown;—yet "twas not a crown neither, ‘twas_ 
+
+
+one of these coronets;—and, as I told you, he 
+put it by once: but, for all that, to my think- 
+ing, he would fain have had it. Then he 
+offered it to him again; then he put it by 
+again: but, to my thinking, he was very loath 
+to lay his fingers off it. And then he offered 
+it the third time; he put it the third time by: 
+and still as he refused it, the rabblement 
+hooted and clapped their chopped hands 
+
+
+200 
+
+
+' Acrd, Sell] JULIUS 
+and threw up their sweaty night-caps and 
+uttered such a deal of stinking breath because 
+Cesar refused the crown that it had almost 
+choked Cesar; for he swounded and fell 
+down at it: and for mine own part, I durst 
+not laugh, for fear of opening my lips and 
+. receiving the bad air. 
+
+Cas, But, soft, 1 pray you: what, did 
+Czsar swound ? 
+
+Casca. He fell down in the market-place, 
+and foamed at mouth, and was speechless. 
+
+Bru. “Tis very like: he hath the falling 
+
+sickness. 
+
+Cas. No, Cesar hath it not; but-you and I 
+And honest Casca, we have the falling sick- 
+
+ness. 
+
+Casca. I know not what you mean by that; 
+but, I am sure, Cesar fell down. If the rag- 
+tag people did not clap him and hiss him, ac- 
+cording as he pleased and displeased them, as 
+they use to do the players in the theatre, J am 
+-no true man. 
+
+Bru. What said he when he came unto 
+
+himself ? 
+
+Casca. Marry, before he fell down, when 
+he perceived the common herd was glad he 
+refused the crown, he plucked me ope his 
+doublet and offered them his throat to cut. An 
+I had been a man of occupation, if I would 
+not have taken him at a word, I would I 
+might go to hell among the rogues. And so he 
+fell. When he came to himself again, he 
+said, If he had done or said any thing amiss, 
+he desired their worships to think it was his 
+infirmity. Three or four wenches, where | 
+stood, cried ‘Alas, good soul!’ and forgave 
+him with all their hearts: but there ’s no heed 
+to be taken of them; if Czsar had stabbed 
+their mothers, they would have done no less. 
+
+Bru. And after that, he came, thus sad, 
+
+away ? 
+
+Casca. Ay. 280 
+
+» Cas. Did Cicero say any thing? 
+
+Casca. Ay, he spoke Greek. 
+
+Cas. To what effect? 
+
+Casca. Nay, an | tell you that, I'll ne’er 
+look you i’ the face again: but those that 
+understood him smiled at one another and 
+shook their heads; but, for mine own part, it 
+was Greek to me. I could tell you more news 
+too: Marullus and Flavius, for pulling scarfs 
+off Cesar’s images, are put to silence. Fare 
+you well. There was more foolery yet, if I 
+could: remember it. - Z 
+
+Cas. Will-you sup with me to-night, Casca? 
+
+Casca. No, I am promised forth. 
+
+Cas. Will you dine with me to-morrow? 
+
+Casca. Ay, if I be alive and your mind 
+hold and your dinner worth the eating. 
+
+
+% 
+
+
+Re. 
+
+
+CAESAR 953 
+Cas. Good: I will expect you. 
+Casca. Do so. Farewell, both. [Exit. 
+
+
+Bru. What a blunt fellow is this ‘grown 
+to be! 
+He was quick mettle when he went to school. 
+Cas. So is he now in execution 301 
+Of any bold or noble enterprise, 
+However he puts on this tardy form. 
+This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit, 
+Which gives men stomach to digest his words 
+With better appetite. 
+Bru. And so it is. 
+leave you: 
+To-morrow, if you please to speak with me, 
+I will come home to you; or, if you will, 
+Come home to me, and | will wait for you. 
+Cas. 1 will do so: till then, think of the 
+world, [Exit Brutus. 
+Well, Brutus, thou art noble; yet, I see, 
+Thy honourable metal may be wrought 
+From that it is disposed: therefore it is meet 
+That noble minds keep ever with their likes; 
+For who so firm that cannot be seduced ? 
+Cesar doth bear me hard; but he loves 
+Brutus: 
+If I were Brutus now and he were Cassius, 
+He should not humour me. I will this night, 
+In several hands, in at his windows throw, 320 
+As if they came from several citizens, 
+Writings all tending to the great opinion 
+That Rome holds of his name; wherein ob- 
+scurely 
+Cesar’s ambition shall be glanced at: 
+And after this let Cesar seat him sure; 
+For we will shake him, or worse days endure. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+Scene Ill. The same. A street. 
+
+
+Thunder and lightning. Enter, from oppasite 
+sides, Casca, with his sword drawn, and 
+CICERO. 
+
+
+Cic. Good even, 
+Cesar home? 
+Why are you breathless? and why stare you 
+
+so? 
+Casca. Are you not moved, when all the 
+sway of earth 
+Shakes like a thing unirm? O Cicero, 
+I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds 
+Have rived the knotty oaks, and I have seen 
+The amb tious ocean swell and rage and foam, 
+To be exalted with the threatening clouds: 
+But never till to-night, never till now, 
+Did I go through a tempest dropping fire. 
+Either there is a civil strife in heaven, 
+Or else the world, too saucy with the gods, 
+Incenses them to send destruction. 
+Cic. Why, saw you any thing more won- 
+
+
+derful ? 
+
+
+For this time I will 
+
+
+Casca: brought you 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+954 JULIUS 
+
+
+CAESAR [Act 1, Sc. II} 
+
+
+Casca. A common slave—you know him 
+
+well by sight— 
+
+Held ‘up his left hand, which did flame and 
+burn 
+
+Like twenty torches join’d, and yet his hand, 
+
+Not sensible of fire, remain’d unscorch’d. 
+
+Besides—I ha’ not since put up my sword— 
+
+Against the Capitol I met a lion, 
+
+Who glared upon me, and went surly by, 
+
+Without annoying me: and there were drawn 
+
+Upon a heap a hundred ghastly women, 
+
+Transformed with their fear; who swore they 
+saw 
+
+Men all in fire walk up and down the streets. 
+
+And yesterday the bird of night did sit 
+
+Even at noon-day upon the market-place, 
+
+Hpooting and shrieking. When these prodigies 
+
+Do so conjointly meet, let not men say 
+
+“These are their reasons; they are natural;’ 30 
+
+For, I believe, they are portentous things 
+
+Unto the climate that they point upon. 
+
+Cic. Indeed, it is a strange-disposed time: 
+
+But men may construe things after their 
+fashion, 
+
+Clean from the purpose of the things them- 
+selves. 
+
+Comes Caesar to the Capitol to-morrow? 
+Casca. He doth; for he did bid Antonius 
+Send word to you he would be there 
+
+to-morrow. 
+Cic. Good night then, Casca: this disturbed 
+sky 
+Is not to walk in. 
+Casca. Farewell, Cicero. [Exit Cicero. 40 
+
+
+Enter Cassius. 
+
+
+Cas. Who's there? 
+Casca. A Roman. 
+Cas. Casca, by your voice. 
+Casca. Your ear is good. Cassius, what 
+night is this! 
+Cas. A very pleasing night to honest men. 
+Casca. Who ever knew the heavens men- 
+ace so? 
+Cas. Those that have known the earth so 
+full of faults. 
+For my part, I have walk’d about the streets, 
+Submitting me unto the perilous night, 
+And, thus unbraced, Casca, as you see, 
+Have bared my bosom to the thunder-stone; 
+And when the cross blue lightning seem’d to 
+5 
+
+
+open 
+The breast of heaven, I did present. myself 
+Even inthe aim and very flash of it. 
+Casca, But wherefore did you so much 
+tempt the heavens? 
+It is the part of men to fear and tremble, 
+When the most mighty gods by tokens send 
+
+
+Such dreadful heralds to astonish us. 
+Cas. You are dull, Casca, and those sparks 
+
+of life 
+
+That should be in a Roman you do want, 
+
+Or else you use not. You look pale and gaze 
+
+And put on fear and cast yourself in wonder, 
+
+To see the strange impatience of the heavens: 
+
+But if you would consider the true cause 
+
+Why all these fires, why all these gliding 
+ghosts, 
+
+Why birds and beasts from quality and kind, 
+
+Why old men fool and children calculate, 
+
+Why all these things change from their ordi- 
+nance 
+
+Their natures and preformed faculties 
+
+To monstrous quality—why, you shall find 
+
+That heaven hath infused them with these 
+spirits, 
+
+To make them instruments of fear and warn- 
+ing 
+
+Unto some monstrous state. 7\ 
+
+Now could I, Casca, name to thee a man 
+
+Most like this dreadful night, 
+
+That thunders, lightens, opens graves, and 
+roars 
+
+As doth the lion in the Capitol, 
+
+A man no mightier than thyself or me 
+
+In personal -action, yet prodigious grown 
+
+And fearful, as these strange eruptions are. 
+
+Casca. "Tis Cesar that you mean; is it 
+
+not, Cassius? 
+
+Cas. Let it be who it is: for Romans now 
+Have thews and limbs like to their ancestors; 
+But, woe the while! our fathers’ minds are 
+
+dead, re 
+And we are govern’d with our mothers’ spirits; 
+Our yoke and sufferance show us womanish. 
+Casca. Indeed, they say the senators to- 
+morrow 
+Mean to establish Cesar as a king; 
+And he shall wear his crown by sea and land, 
+In every place, save here in Italy. 
+Cas. 1 know where I wii wear this dagger 
+then; 
+Cassius from bondag* will deliver Cassius: 90 
+Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most 
+strong; 
+Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat: 
+Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, 
+Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron, 
+Can be retentive to the strength of spirit; 
+But life, being weary of these worldly bars, 
+Never lacks power to dismiss itself. 
+If I know this, know all the world besides, 
+That part of tyranny that I do bear 
+I can shake off at pleasure. [ Thunder still. 
+
+Casca. So can 100 
+So every bondman in his own hand bears 
+The power to cancel his captivity. 
+
+
+ai 
+
+
+: Act II, Se. I] 
+
+
+Cas. And why should Cesar be a tyrant 
+then? 
+Poor man! I know he would not be a wolf, 
+But that he sees the Romans are but sheep: 
+He were no lion, were not Romans hinds. 
+Those that with haste will make a mighty fire 
+Begin it with weak straws: what trash is 
+Rome, : 
+What rubbish and what offal, when it serves 
+For the base matter to illuminate 110 
+So vile a thing as Caesar! But, O grief, 
+Where hast thou led me? I perhaps speak this 
+Before a willing bondman; then I know 
+My answer must be made. But I am arm’d, 
+And dangers are to me indifferent. 
+Casca. You speak to Casca, and to such 
+a man 
+That is no fleering tell-tale. Hold, my hand: 
+Be factious for redress of ail these griefs, 
+And I will set this foot of mine as far 
+_ As who goes farthest. 
+~ Cas. There's a bargain made. 120 
+Now know you, Casca, | have moved already 
+Some certain of the noblest-minded Romans 
+To-undergo with me an enterprise 
+Of honourable dangerous consequence; 
+And I do know, by this, they stay for me 
+In Pompey’s porch: for now, this fearful 
+night, 
+There is no stir or walking in the streets; 
+And the complexion of the element 
+In favour’s like the work we have in hand, 
+Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible. 130 
+Casca. Stand close awhile, for here comes 
+one in haste. 
+Cas. ‘Tis Cinna; I do know him by his 
+gait; 
+He is a friend. 
+Enter CinNA. 
+
+
+Cinna, where haste you so? 
+Cin. To find out you. Who's that? 
+tellus Cimber ? 
+Cas. No, it is Casca; one incorporate 
+To our attempts. Am I not stay’d for, Cinna > 
+Cin. I am glad on’t. What a fearful 
+night is this! 
+There ’s two or three of us have seen strange 
+° sights. 
+Cas. Am | not stay'd for? tell me. 
+Cin. Yes, you are. 
+O Cassius, if you could 
+But win the noble Brutus to our party— 
+Cas. Be you content: good Cinna, take this 
+paper, 
+And look you lay it in the pretor’s chair, 
+Where Brutus may but find it; and throw this 
+In at his window; set this up with wax 
+Upon old Brutus’ statue: all this done, 
+
+
+Me- 
+
+
+JULIUS CAESAR 
+
+
+ERE ERECnEanE 
+
+
+958 
+
+
+Repair to Pompey’s porch, where you shall 
+find us. 
+Is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there? 
+Cin. All but Metellus Cimber; and he’s 
+gone 
+To seek you at your house. Well, I will hie, 
+And so bestow these papers as you bade me. 
+Cas. That done, repair to Pompey’s thea- 
+tre. {Exit Cinna. 
+Come, Casca, you and | will yet ere day 
+See Brutus at his house: three parts of him 
+
+
+Is ours already, and the man entire 
+
+
+Upon the next encounter yields him ours. 
+Casca. O, he sits high in all the people’s 
+hearts: 
+And that which would appear offence in us, 
+His countenance, like richest alchemy, 
+Will change to virtue and to worthiness. 160 
+Cas. Him and his worth and our great 
+need of him 
+You have right well conceited. Let us go, 
+For it is after midnight; and ere day 
+We will awake him and be sure of him. 
+
+
+[Exeunt. 
+ACT II. 
+Scene I. Rome. Brutus’s orchard. 
+Enter Brutus. 
+Bru. What, Lucius, ho! 
+
+
+1 cannot, by the progress of the stars, 
+
+Give guess how near to day. Lucius, I say! 
+
+I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly, 
+
+When, Lucius, when? awake, I say! what, 
+Lucius! 
+
+
+Enter Lucius. 
+
+
+Luc. Call’d you, my lord? 
+Bru. Get me a taper in my study, Lucius: 
+When it is lighted, come and call me here. 
+Luc. I will, my lord. [Exit. 
+Bru. It must be by his death: and for my 
+part, 10 
+I know no personal cause to spurn at him, 
+But for the general. He would be crown’d: 
+How that might change his nature, there ’s the 
+question. 
+Tt is the bright day that brings forth the 
+adder; 
+And that craves wary walking. 
+that;— 
+And then, I grant, we put a sting in him, 
+That at his will he may do danger with. 
+The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins 
+Remorse from power: and, to speak truth of 
+Cesar, 
+I have not known when his affections sway'd 
+More than his reason. But "tis a common 
+proof, 
+
+
+Crown him ?— 
+
+
+956 
+
+
+JULIUS CAESAR 
+
+
+[Acr I], Sc. I 
+
+
+That lowliness is young ambition’s ladder, 
+Whereto the climber-upward turns his face; 
+But when he once attains the upmost round, 
+He then unto the ladder turns h.s back, 
+Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees 
+By which he did ascend. So Caesar may. 
+Then, lest he may, prevent. And, since the 
+quarrel 
+Will bear no colour for the thing he is, 
+Fashion it thus; that what he is, augmented, 
+Would run to these and these extremities: 
+And therefore think him as a serpent’s egg 
+Which, hatch’d, would, as his kind, grow mis- 
+chievecus, 
+
+
+And kill him in the shell. 
+Re-enter Lucius. 
+
+
+Luc. The taper burneth in your closet, sir. 
+Searching the window for a flint, 1 found 
+This paper, thus seal'd up; and, I am sure, 
+It did not lie there when I went to bed. 
+
+[Gives him the letter. 
+
+Bru. Get you to bed again; it is not day. 
+
+Is not to-morrow, boy, the ides of March? 40 
+
+
+Luc. I know not, sir. 
+
+Bru. Look in the calendar, and bring me 
+word. 
+
+Luc. I will, sir. [Exit. 
+
+
+Bru. The exhalations whizzing in the air 
+Give so much light that I may read by them. 
+[Opens the letter and reads. 
+‘Brutus, thou sleep’st: awake, and see thyself. 
+Shall Rome, &c. Speak, strike, redress! 
+Brutus, thou sleep’st: awake!’ 
+Such instigations have been often ward 
+Where I have took them up. 50 
+‘Shall Rome, &c.’ Thus must I piece it out: 
+Shall Rome stand under one man’s awe? 
+What, Rome? 
+My ancestors did from the streets of Rome 
+The Tarquin drive, when he was call’d a king. 
+“Speak, strike, redress!" Am I entreated 
+To speak and strike? O Rome, I make thee 
+promise; 
+If the redress will follow, thou receivest 
+‘Thy full’petition at the hand of Brutus! 
+
+
+Re-enter Lucius. 
+
+
+Luc. Sir, March is wasted fourteen days. 
+[Knocking within. 
+Bru. ‘Tis good. Go to the gate; some- 
+
+
+body knocks, 
+Since Cassius first did whet me against Cesar, 
+I have not slept. 
+Between the acting of a dreadful thing 
+And the first motion, all the interim is 
+Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream: 
+The Genius and the mortal instruments 
+Are then in council; and the state of man, 
+
+
+[Exit Lucius. 60 |, 
+
+
+Like to a little kingdom, suffers then 
+The nature of an insurrect.on. 
+
+
+Re-enter Lucius. 
+
+
+Luc. Sir, ‘tis your brother Cassius at the 
+door, 70 
+Who doth desire to see you. 
+Bru. Is he alone? 
+Luc. No, sir, there are moe with him. 
+Bru. Do you know them? 
+Luc. No, sir; their hats are pluck'd about 
+
+
+their ears, 
+And half their faces buried in their cloaks, ~ 
+That by no means I may discover them 
+By any mark of favour. 
+
+Bru. Let 'em enter. [Exit Lucius. 
+They are the faction. O conspiracy, 
+Shamest thou to show thy dangerous brow by 
+
+night, 
+When evils are most free? O, then by day 
+
+
+Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough 80. 
+
+
+To mask thy monstrous visage? Seek none, 
+conspiracy ; 
+
+Hide it in smiles and affability: 
+
+For if thou path, thy native semblance on, 
+
+Not Erebus itself were dim enough 
+
+To hide thee from prevention. 
+
+
+Enter the conspirators, Casstus, CAsca, 
+Decius, CINNA, METELLUS CIMBER, and 
+‘TREBONIUS. 
+
+
+Cas. 
+rest: 
+Good morrow, Brutus; do we trouble you? 
+Bru. 1 have. been up this hour, awake all 
+night. 
+Know I these men that come along with you? 
+Cas, Yes, every man of them, and no man 
+here 90 
+But honours you; and every one doth wish 
+You had but that opinion of yourself 
+Which every noble Roman bears of you. 
+This is Trebonius. 
+
+
+I think we are too bold upon your 
+
+
+Bru, He is welcome hither. 
+
+Cas. This, Decius Brutus. 
+
+Bru. He is welcome too. 
+Cas. This, Casca; this, Cinna; and_ this, 
+
+
+Metellus C mber. 
+Bru. They are all welcome. 
+What watchful cares do interpose sheared 
+Betwixt your eyes and night? 
+
+
+Cas. Shall I entreat a word? 100 
+[Brutus and Cassius whisper. 
+Dec. Here lies the east: doth not the day 
+
+
+break here? 
+
+
+Casca. No. 
+Cin. O, pardon, sir, it doth; and yon gray 
+lines 
+
+
+That fret the clouds are messengers of day. 
+
+
+Act Il, Sc. 1] JULIUS 
+
+
+CESAR 957 
+
+
+Casca. You shall confess that you are both 
+deceived. 
+Here, as I point my sword, the sun arises, 
+Which is a great way growing on the south, 
+‘Weighing the youthful season of the year. 
+Some two months hence up higher toward the 
+north 
+He first presents h’s fire; and the high east 
+Stands, as the Capitol, directly here. 
+Bru. Give me your hands all over, one by 
+one. i 
+Cas. And let us swear our resolution. 
+Bru. No, not an oath: if not the face of 
+men, 
+The sufferance of our 
+abuse,— 
+If these be motives weak, break off betimes, 
+And every man hence to his idle bed; 
+So let high-sighted tyranny range on, 
+Till each man drop by lottery. But if these, 
+I am sure they do, bear fire enough 120 
+To kindle cowards and to steel with valour 
+The melting spir.ts of women, then, country- 
+men, 
+What need we any spur but our own cause, 
+To prick us to redress? what other bond 
+Than secret Romans, that have spoke the word, 
+And will not palter? and what other oath 
+Than honesty to honesty engaged, 
+That this shall be, or we will fall for it? 
+Swear priests and cowards and men cautelous, 
+Old feeble carrions and such suffering souls 
+That welcome wrongs; unto bad causes swear 
+Such creatures as men doubt; but do not stain 
+The even virtue of our enterprise, 
+Nor the insuppressive mettle of our spirits, 
+To think that or our cause or our performance 
+Did need an oath; when every drop of blood 
+‘That every Roman bears, and nobly bears, 
+Is guilty of a several bastardy, 
+If he do break the smal!est particle 
+Of any promise that hath pass'd from him. 140 
+Cas, But what of Cicero? shall we sound 
+him > 
+I think he will stand very strong with us. 
+Casca, Let us not leave him out. 
+in. No, by no means. 
+Met. O, let us have him, for his silver 
+hairs 
+Will purchase us a good opinion 
+And buy men’s voices to commend our deeds: 
+It shall be said, hs judgement ruled our 
+hands; 
+Our youths and wildness shall no whit appear, 
+But all be buried in his gravity. 
+Bru. O, name him not: let us not break 
+with him; 150 
+For he will never follow any thing 
+That other men begin. 
+
+
+souls, the  time’s 
+
+
+Cas, Then leave him out. 
+
+Casca. Indeed he is not fit. 
+
+Dec. Shall no man else be touch’d but only 
+
+Cesar? 
+Cas. Decius, well urged: I think it is not 
+meet, 
+Mark Antony, so well beloved of Cesar, 
+Should outlive Caesar: we shall find of him 
+A shrewd contriver; and, you know, his 
+means, 
+If he improve them, may well stretch so far 
+As to annoy us all: which to prevent, 160 
+Let Antony and Cesar fall together. 
+Bru. Our course will seem too bloody, 
+Caius Cassius, 
+To cut the head off and then hack the limbs, 
+Like wrath in death and envy afterwards; 
+For Antony is but a limb of Cesar: 
+Let us be sacrificers, but not butchers, Caius. 
+We all stand up against the spirit of Cxsar; 
+And in the spirt of men there is no blood: 
+O, that we then could come by Cesar’s spirit, 
+And not dismember Cesar! But, alas, 170 
+Cesar must bleed for it! And, gentle friends, 
+Let‘s kill him boldly, but not wrathfully; 
+Let’s carve him as a dish fit for the gods, 
+Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds: 
+And let our hearts, as subtle masters do, 
+Stir up their servants to an act of rage, 
+And after seem to chide ‘em. This shall 
+make 
+Our purpose necessary and not envious: 
+Which so appearing to the common eyes, 
+We shall be call’d purgers, not murderers, 180 
+And for Mark Antony, thnk not of him; 
+For he can do no more than Cesar’s arm 
+When Cesar’s head is off. 
+
+Cas. Yet I fear him; 
+
+For in the ingrafted love he bears to Cesar— 
+
+Bru. Alas, good Cassius, do not think of 
+
+him: 
+If he love Cesar, all that he can do 
+Is to himself, take thought and die for Cesar: 
+And that were much he should; for he is 
+given 
+To sports, to wildness and much company. 
+Treb. There is no fear in him; let him . 
+not die; 190 
+For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter. 
+[Cloch strikes. 
+
+Bru. Peace! count the clock. 
+
+Cas. The clock hath stricken three. 
+
+Treb. "Tis time to part. 
+
+Cas. But it is doubtful yet, 
+Whether Cesar will come forth to-day, or no; 
+For he is superstitious grown of late, 
+
+Quite from the main opinion he held once 
+Of fantasy, of dreams and ceremonies: 
+It may be, these apparent prodigies, 
+
+
+958 JULIUS 
+
+
+CESAR [Acr II, Se. I 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+The unaccustom’c: terror of this night, 
+And the persuas.on of his augurers, 200 
+May hold him from the Capitol to-day. 
+
+Dec. Never fear that: if he be so resolved, 
+I can o’ersway him; for he loves to hear 
+That unicorns may be betray’d with trees, 
+And bears with glasses, elephants with holes, 
+Lions with toils and men with flatterers; 
+
+But when I tell him he hates flatterers, 
+
+He says he does, being then most flattered. 
+
+Let me work; 
+
+For I can give his humour the true bent, 210 
+
+And I will bring him to the Cap.tol. 
+
+_ Cas. Nay, we will all of us be there to 
+fetch him. 
+
+Bru. By the eighth hour: is that the utter- 
+
+most > 
+
+Cin. Be that the uttermost, and fail not 
+
+then. 
+
+Met. Caius Ligarius doth bear Cesar hard, 
+Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey: 
+I wonder none of you have thought of him. 
+
+Bru. Now, good Metellus, go along by 
+
+him: 
+
+He loves me well, and I have given him rea- 
+sons; 
+
+Send him but hither, and I ‘Il fashion him. 
+
+Cas. The morning comes upon’s: we'll 
+
+leave you, Brutus. 
+
+And, friends, disperse yourselves; but all re- 
+member 
+
+What you have said, and show yourselves 
+true Romans. 
+
+Bru. Good gentlemen, look fresh and 
+
+merrily ; 
+
+Let not our looks put on our purposes, 
+
+But bear it as our Roman actors do, 
+
+With untired spirits and formal constancy: 
+
+And so good morrow to you every one. 
+[Exeunt all but Brutus. 
+
+Boy! Lucius! Fast asleep? It is no matter; 
+
+Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber: 230 
+
+Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies, 
+
+Which busy care draws in the brains of men; 
+
+Therefore thou sleep’st so sound. 
+
+
+Enter Portia. 
+
+
+Por. Brutus, my lord! 
+Bru. Portia, what mean you? wherefore 
+rise you now? 
+It is not for your health thus to commit 
+Your weak condition to the raw cold morning. 
+Por. Nor for yours neither. You've un- 
+gently, Brutus, 
+Stole from my bed: and yesternight, at supper, 
+You suddenly arose, and walk’d about, 
+Musing and sighing, with your arms across, 
+And when I ask'’d you what the matter was, 
+‘You stared upon me with ungentle looks; 
+
+
+I urged you further; then you scratch’d your 
+head, 
+And too impatiently stamp’d with your fool; 
+Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not, 
+But, with an angry wafture of your hand, 
+Gave sign for me to leave you: so I did; 
+Fearing to strengthen that impatience 
+Which seem’d too much enkindled, 
+withal 
+Hoping it was but an effect of humour, 250 
+Which sometime hath his hour with every man. 
+It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep, 
+And could it work so much upon your shape 
+As it hath much prevail’d on your condition, 
+I should not know you, Brutus, Dear my lord, 
+Make me acquainted with your cause of grief. 
+
+Bru. 1 am not well in health, and that is 
+
+all. 
+
+Por. Brutus is wise, and, were he not in 
+
+health, 
+He would embrace the means to come by it. 
+seen so I do. Good Portia, go to 
+bed. 
+
+Por. Is Brutus sick? and is it physical 261 
+To walk unbraced and suck up the humours 
+Of the dank morning? What, is Brutus sick, 
+And will he steal out of his wholesome bed, 
+To dare the vile contagion of the night 
+And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air 
+To add unto his sickness? No, my Brutus; 
+You have some sick offence within your mind, 
+Which, by the right and virtue of my place, 
+I ought to know of: and, upon my knees, 270 
+I charm you, by my once-commended beauty, 
+By all your vows of love and that great vow 
+Which did incorporate and make us one, 
+That you unfold to me, yourself, your half, 
+Why you are heavy, and what men to-night 
+Have had resort to you: for here have been 
+Some six or seven, who did hide their faces 
+Even from darkness. 
+
+Bru. Kneel nox, gentle Portia. 
+
+Por. 1 should not need, if you were gentle 
+
+Brutus. 
+
+Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus, 
+
+Is it excepted I should know no secrets 28} 
+
+That appertain to you? Am I yourself 
+
+But, as it were, in sort or limitation, 
+
+To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed, 
+
+And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in 
+the suburbs 
+
+Of your good pleasure? If it be no more, 
+
+Portia is Brutus’ harlot, not his wife. 
+
+Bru. You are my true and _ honourable 
+
+wife, 
+
+As dear to me as are the ruddy drops 
+
+That visit my sad heart. 290 
+
+Por. If this were true, then should I know 
+
+this secret. : 
+
+
+and 
+
+
+-Leave me with haste. 
+
+
+Act II, Se. I] JULIUS 
+
+
+I grant I am a woman; but withal 
+
+A woman that Lord Brutus took to wife: 
+
+I grant I am a woman; but withal 
+
+A woman well-reputed, Cato's daughter. - 
+
+Think you I am no stronger than my sex, 
+
+Being so father'd and so husbanded? 
+
+Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose ‘em: 
+
+I have made strong proof of my constancy, 
+
+Giving myself a voluntary wound 300 
+
+Here, in the thigh: can I bear that with 
+patience, 
+
+
+And not my husband's secrets? 
+Bru. O ye gods, 
+Render me worthy of this noble wife! 
+[Knocking within. 
+Hark, hark! one knocks: Portia, go in 
+awhile; 
+
+
+And by and by thy bosom shall partake 
+
+The secrets of my heart. 
+
+All my engagements I will construe to thee, 
+All the charactery of my sad brows: 
+
+[Exit Portia.] Lucius, 
+who ’s that knocks? 
+
+
+Re-enter Lucius with Licartus. 
+
+
+Luc. Here is a sick man that would speak 
+with’ you, 310 
+Bru. Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake 
+of. 
+Boy, stand aside. Caius Ligarius! how? 
+Lig. Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble 
+tongue. 
+Bru. O, what a time have you chose out, 
+brave Caius, 
+To wear a kerchief! 
+sick! 
+‘Lig. I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand 
+Any exploit worthy the name of honour, 
+Bru. Such an exploit have I in hand, 
+Ligarius, 
+Had you a healthful ear to hear of it. 
+Lig. By all the gods that Romans bow 
+before, 320 
+I here discard my sickness! Soul of Rome! 
+Brave son, derived from honourable loins! 
+Thou, like an exorcist, hast conjured up 
+My mortified spirit. Now bid me run, 
+And I will strive with things impossible; 
+Yea, get the better of them. What's to do? 
+Bru. A piece of work that will make sick 
+men whole. 
+Lig. But are not some whole that we must 
+make sick? 
+Bru. That must we also. 
+Caius, 
+I shall unfold to thee, as we are going 
+To whom it must be done. 
+Lig. Set on your foot, 
+And with a heart new-fired I follow vou. 
+
+
+Would you were not 
+
+
+What it is, my 
+330 
+
+
+CAESAR 959 
+To do I know not what: but it sufficeth 
+That Brutus leads me on, 
+
+Bru. Follow me, then. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene II. Cesar’s house. 
+Thunder and lightning. Enter Cmsar, in 
+his night-gown. 
+
+Ces. Nor heaven nor earth have been at 
+
+peace to-night: _ 
+Thrice hath Calpurnia in her sleep cried out, 
+‘Help, ho! they murder Czsar!’ Who's 
+within > 
+Enter a Servant. 
+Serv. My lord? 
+Ces. Go bid the priests do present sacrifice 
+Ard bring me their opinions of success. 
+Serv, I will, my lord. [Exit 
+
+
+Enter CaLpurnia. 
+
+
+Cal. What mean you, Cesar? think you 
+to walk forth? 
+You shall not stir out of your house to-day. 
+
+Ces, Cesar shall forth: the things that 
+
+threaten’d me 10 
+Ne'er look’d but on my back; when they shall 
+see 
+The face of Czsar, they are vanished. 
+
+Cal. Cesar, I never stood on ceremonies, 
+Yet now they fright me. There is one within, 
+Besides the things that we have heard and 
+
+seen, 
+Recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch. 
+A lioness hath whelped in the streets; 
+And graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their 
+dead; 
+Fierce fiery warriors fought upon the clouds, 
+In ranks and squadrons and right form of war, 
+Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol; 21 
+The noise of battle hurtled in the air, 
+Horses did neigh, and dying men did groan, 
+And ghosts did shriek and squeal about the 
+streets. 
+O Cesar! these things are beyond all use, 
+And I do fear them. 
+
+Ces. What can be avoided 
+Whose end is purposed by the mighty gods? 
+Yet Cesar shall go forth; for these predic- 
+
+tions 
+Are to the world in general as to Cesar. 
+Cal. When beggars die, there are no com- 
+ets seen; 30 
+The heavens themselves blaze forth the death 
+of princes. 
+Ces. Cowards die many times before their 
+deaths; 
+The valiant never taste of death but once. 
+Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, 
+It seems to me most strange that men should 
+fear; 
+
+
+$60 JULIUS 
+
+
+C/ESAR {Act II, Se. I 
+
+
+Seeing that death, a necessary end, 
+Will come when it will come. 
+
+
+Re-enter Servant. 
+
+
+What say the augurers ? 
+Serv. They would not have you to stir 
+forth to-day. 
+Plucking the entrails of an offering forth, 
+They could not find a heart within the beast. 
+Ces. The gods do this in shame of cow- 
+ardice: 
+Cesar should be a beast without a heart, 
+If he should stay at home to-day for fear. 
+No, Cesar shall not: danger knows full well 
+That Cesar is more dangerous than he: 
+We are two lions litter'd in one day, 
+And I the elder and more terrible: 
+And Cesar shall go forth. 
+Cal. Alas, my lord, 
+Your wisdom is consumed in confidence, 
+Do not go forth to-day: call it my fear 50 
+That keeps you in the house, and not your 
+own. 
+We'll send Mark Antony to the senate- 
+house; 
+And he shall say you are not well to-day: 
+Let me, upon my knee, prevail in this. 
+Ces. Mark Antony shall say I am not 
+well; 
+And, for thy humour, I will stay at home. 
+
+
+Enter Decius. 
+
+
+Here 's Decius Brutus, he shall tell them so. 
+
+Dec. Cesar, all hail! good morrow, worthy 
+
+Caesar: 
+I come to fetch you to the senate-house. 
+
+Ces. And you are come in very happy 
+
+time, 
+To bear my greeting to the senators 6] 
+And tell them that I will not come to-day: 
+Cannot, is false, and that I dare not, falser: 
+I will not come to-day: tell them so, Decius. 
+
+Cal. Say he is sick. 
+
+Ces. Shall Cesar send a lie? 
+Have I in conquest stretch'd mine arm so far, 
+To be afeard to tell graybeards the truth? 
+Decius, go te!l them Cesar will not come. 
+
+Dec. Most mighty Cesar, let me know 
+
+some cause, 
+Lest I be laugh’d at when I tell them so. 70 
+
+Ces. The cause is in my will: I will not 
+
+come; 
+That is enough to satisfy the senate. 
+But for your private satisfaction, 
+Because I love you, I will let you know: 
+Calpurnia here, my wife, stays me at home: 
+She dreamt to-night she saw my statua, 
+Which, like a fountain with an hundred 
+
+
+spouts, 
+
+
+Did run pure blood; and many lusty Romans 
+Came sm ling, and did bathe their hands in it: 
+And these does she apply for warnings, and 
+portents, 80 
+And evils imminent; and on her knee 
+Hath begg’d that I will stay at home to-day. 
+Dec, This dream is all amiss interpreted; 
+It was a vision fair and fortunate: 
+Your statue spouting blood in many pipes, 
+In which so many smiling Romans bathed, 
+S gnifies that from you great Rome shall suck 
+Reviving blood, and that great men shall press 
+For tinctures, stains, relics and cognizance, 
+This by Calpurnia’s dream is signified. 90 
+Ces. And this way have you well ex- 
+pounded it. 
+Dec. I have, when you have heard what I 
+can say: : 
+And know it now: the senate have concluded 
+To give this day a crown to mighty Cesar. 
+If you shall send them word you will not 
+come, 
+The‘r minds may change. 
+mock 
+Apt to be render’d, for some one to say 
+‘Break up the senate till another time, 
+When Caesar's wife shall meet with better 
+dreams." 
+If Cesar hide himself, shall they not whisper 
+‘Lo, Cesar is afraid’? 101 
+Pardon me, Cesar; for my dear dear love 
+To your proceeding bids me tell you this; 
+And reason to my love is liable. 
+Ces. How foolish do your fears seem now, 
+Calpurnia! 
+I am ashamed { did yield to them. 
+Give me my robe, for I will go. 
+
+
+Besides, it were a 
+
+
+Enter Pusiius, Brutus, Licarius, METEL« 
+Lus, Casca, TREBONIUS, and CINNA. 
+
+
+And look where Publius is come to fetch me, 
+
+Pub. Good morrow, Cesar. 
+
+Ces. Welcome, Publius. 
+What, Brutus, are you stirr'd so early too? 
+Good morrow, Casca. Caius Ligarius, 
+Cesar was ne'er so much your enemy 
+As that same ague which has made you lean. 
+
+
+What is ’t o'clock? 
+
+
+Bru. Cesar, ‘tis strucken eight. 
+Ces. I thank you for your pains and 
+courtesy. 
+
+
+Enter ANTONY. 
+
+
+See! Antony, that revels long o’ nights, 
+Is notwithstanding up. Good morrow, An- 
+tony. 
+Ant. So to most noble Cesar. 
+Ces. Bid them prepare within: 
+
+
+Pee eey oo 
+ee 
+
+
+*, 
+na) vg 
+
+
+Res 
+sgt 4 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+Acer Ill, Se: 1] JULIUS 
+
+
+I am to blame to be thus waited for. 
+Now, Cinna: now, Metellus: what, Tre- 
+bonius! 
+I have an hour's talk in store for you; 121 
+Remember: that you call on me to-day: 
+Be near me, that I may remember you. 
+Treb. Cesar, I will: [Aside] and so near 
+will I be, 
+That your best friends shall wish I had been 
+further. 
+Ces. Good friends, go in, and taste some 
+wine with me: : 
+And we, like friends, will straightway go to- 
+gether. 
+Bru. [Aside] That every like is not the 
+same, O Caesar, 
+The heart of Brutus yearns to think upon! 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. A street near the Capitol. 
+Enter ARTEMIDORUS, reading a paper. 
+
+
+. Art. ‘Cesar, beware of Brutus; take heed 
+of Cassius; come mot near Casca; have an eye 
+to Cinna; trust not Trebonius; mark well 
+Metellus Cimber: Decius Brutus loves thee 
+not: thou hast wronged Caius Ligarius. There 
+is but one mind in all these men, and it is 
+bent against Cesar. If thou beest not im- 
+mortal, look about you: security gives way to 
+conspiracy. The mighty gods defend thee! 
+Thy lover, 
+
+“ARTEMIDORUS.” 
+Here will I stand till Czsar pass along, 11 
+And as a suitor will I give him this. 
+My heart laments that virtue cannot live 
+Out of the teeth of emulation. 
+If thou read this, O Cesar, thou mayst live; 
+If not, the Fates with traitors do contrive. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Another part of the same street, 
+before the house of Brutus. 
+
+
+Enter Portia and Lucius. 
+
+
+Por. I prithee, boy, run to the senate- 
+house; 
+Stay not to answer me, but get thee gone: 
+Why dost thou stay? 
+Luc. To know my errand, madam. 
+Por. I would have had thee there, and 
+here again, 
+Ere I can tell thee what thou shouldst do 
+there. 
+O constancy, be strong upon my side, 
+Set a»shuge mountain ‘tween my heart and 
+tongue! 
+I have a man’s mind, but a woman’s might. 
+How hard it is for women to keep counsel! 
+Art thou here yet? 
+Luc. Madam, what should I do? 10 
+
+
+CFESAR 961 
+
+
+Run to the Capitol, and nothing else? 
+And so return to you, and nothing else? 
+Por. Yes, bring me word, boy, if thy lord 
+look well, 
+For he went sickly forth: and take good note 
+What Cesar doth, what suitors press to him. 
+Hark, boy! what noise is that? 
+Luc. I hear none, madam. 
+Por. Prithee, listen well; 
+I heard a bustling rumour, like a fray, 
+And the wind brings it from the Capitol. 
+Luc. Sooth, madam, | hear nothing. 20 
+Enter the Soothsayer. 
+
+
+Por. Come hither, fellow: which way hast 
+thou been > 
+Sooth. At mine own house, good lady. 
+Por. What is ’t clock? 
+Sooth. About the ninth hour, lady, 
+Por, Is Cesar yet gone to the Capitol? 
+Sooth. Madam, not yet: I go to take my 
+stand, 
+To see him pass on to the Capitol. 
+Por. Thou hast some suit to Cesar, hast 
+thou not? 
+Sooth. That I have, lady: if it will please 
+Cesar 
+To be so good to Casar as to hear me, 
+I shall beseech him to befriend himself. 30 
+Por. Why, know’st thou any harm's in- 
+tended towards him? 
+Sooth. None that I’ know will be, much 
+that I fear may chance. 
+Good morrow to you. Here the street is 
+narrow: - 
+The throng that follows Cesar at the heels, 
+Of senators, of prators, common’ suitors, 
+Will crowd a feeble man almost to death: 
+I'll get me to a place more void, and there 
+Speak to great Caesar as he comes along. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+
+Por. 1 must go on. Ay, me, how weak a 
+thing 
+
+The heart of woman is! O Brutus, 4@ 
+
+
+The heavens speed thee in thine enterprise! 
+
+Sure, the boy heard me: Brutus hath a suit 
+
+That Cesar will not grant. O, I grow faint. 
+
+Run, Lucius, and commend me to my lord; 
+
+Say I am merry: come to me aga‘n, 
+
+And bring me word what he doth say to thee. _ 
+[Exeunt severally, 
+
+
+ACF ills 
+Scene I. Rome. Before the Capitol; the 
+
+
+Senate sitting above. 
+
+
+A crowd of people; among them ARTEMI- 
+porus and the Soothsayer. Flourish. Enter 
+
+
+962 JULIUS 
+
+
+CAESAR * [Act III, Se. I 
+
+
+Czzsar, Brutus, Cassius, Casca, Decius, 
+METELLus, TREBONIUS, CINNA, ANTONY, 
+Lepipus, Popitius, Pusiius, and others. 
+
+
+Ces. [To the Soothsayer] The ides of 
+March are come. 
+
+Sooth. Ay, Cesar; but not gone. 
+
+Art. Hail, Cesar! read this schedule. 
+
+Dec. Trebonius doth desire you to o’er- 
+read, 
+
+At your leisure, this his humble suit. 
+Art. O Cesar, read mine first; for mine's 
+
+
+a suit 
+That touches Caesar nearer: read it, great 
+
+Cesar. 
+Ces. What touches us ourself shall be last 
+
+served. 
+
+
+Art. Delay not, Casar; read it instantly. 
+Ces. What, is the fellow mad? 
+Pub. Sirrah, give place. 10 
+Cas. What, urge you your petitions in the 
+street? 
+Come to the Capitol. 
+
+
+Caesar goes up to the Senate-House, the rest 
+following. 
+
+
+Pop. 1 wish your enterprise to-day may 
+
+thrive. 
+
+Cas. What enterprise, Popilius? 
+
+Pop. Fare you well. 
+
+[Advances to Cesar. 
+Bru. What said Popilius Lena? 
+Cas. He wish'd to-day our 
+might thrive. 
+I fear our purpose is discovered. 
+
+Bru. Look, how he makes to Caesar: mark 
+
+him. 
+
+Cas. Casca, be sudden, for we fear pre- 
+
+vention. 
+Brutus, what shall be done? If this be known, 
+Cassius or Cesar never shall turn back, 21 
+For I will slay myself. 
+
+Bru. Cassius, be constant: 
+Popilius Lena speaks not of our purposes; 
+For, look, he smiles, and Czsar doth not 
+
+change. 
+
+Cas. Trebonius knows his time; for, look 
+
+you, Brutus, 
+He draws Mark Antony out of the way. 
+[Exeunt Antony and Trebonius. 
+Dec. Where is Metellus Cimber? Let 
+him go, 
+And presently prefer his suit to Caesar. 
+
+Bru. He is address'd: press near and sec- 
+
+ond him. 
+
+
+enterprise 
+
+
+Cin. Casca, you are the first that rears 
+your hand. 30 
+
+Ces. Are we all ready? What is now 
+amis: 
+
+
+That Cesar and his senate must redress? 
+Met. Most high, most mighty, and most 
+puissant Cesar, ; 
+Metellus Cimber throws before thy seat 
+An humble heart,— [ Kneeling. 
+Ces. I must prevent thee, Cimbei- 
+These couchings and these lowly courtesies 
+Might fire the blood of ord nary mea, 
+And turn pre-ordinance and first decree 
+Into the law of children. Be not fond, 
+To think that Cesar bears such rebel blood 40 
+That will be thaw’d from the true quality 
+With that which melteth fools; I mean, sweet 
+words, 
+Low-crooked 
+fawning, 
+Thy brother by decree is banished: 
+If thou dost bend and pray and fawn for him, 
+I spurn thee like a cur out of my way. 
+Know, Cesar doth not wrong, nor without 
+cause 
+Will he be satisfied. 
+Met. Is there no voice more worthy than 
+my own, 
+To sound more sweetly in great Cesar’s ear 
+For the repealing of my banish’d brother? 
+Bru. 1 kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, 
+Ceesar ; 
+Desiring thee that Publius Cimber may 
+Have an immediate freedom of repeal. 
+Ces. What, Brutus! 
+Cas. Pardon, Cesar; Cesar, pardon: 
+As low as to thy foot doth Cassius fall, 
+To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber. 
+Ces. I could be well moved, if I were as 
+you; % 
+If I could pray to move, prayers would move 
+me: 
+But I am constant as the northern star, 60 
+Of whose true-fix’'d and resting quality 
+There is no fellow in the firmament. — 
+The skies are painted with unnumber’d sparks, 
+They are all fire and every one doth shine, 
+But there 's but one in all doth hold his place: 
+So in the world; ‘tis furnish’d well with men, 
+And men are flesh and blood, and appre- 
+hensive; 
+Yet in the number I do know but one 
+That unassailable holds on his rank, 
+Unshaked of motion: and that I am he, 
+Let me a little show it, even in this; 
+That I was constant Cimber should be ban- 
+ish'd, 
+And constant do remain to keep him so. 
+Cin. O Cesar,— 
+Ces. Hence! wilt thou lift up Olympus? 
+Dec. Great Cesar,— 
+Ces. Doth not Brutus bootless kneel? 
+Casca. Speak, hands, for me! 
+
+
+court’sies and base spaniel. 
+
+
+70 
+
+
+} = 
+
+
+Act Ill, Se. I] 
+
+
+JULIUS 
+
+
+[Casca first, then the other Conspirators and 
+Marcus Brutus stab Cesar. 
+Ces. Et tu, Brute! Then fall, Czsar! 
+[Dies. 
+Cin. Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead! 
+Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets. 
+Cas. Some to the common pulpits, and cry 
+out 
+“Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement!’ 
+Bru. People and senators, be not af- 
+frighted; 
+Fly not; stand still: ambition’s debt is paid. 
+Casca. Go to the pulpit, Brutus. 
+Dec. : And Cassius too. 
+Bru. Where's Publius > 
+
+
+Cin. Here, quite confounded with this 
+mutiny. 
+
+Met. Stand fast together, lest some friend 
+of Cesar's 
+
+
+Should chance— 
+Bru. Talk not of standing. Publius, good 
+cheer; 
+There is no harm intended to your person, 90 
+(Nor to no Roman else: so tell them, Publius. 
+
+
+Cas. And leave us, Publius; lest that the 
+
+
+people, 
+Rushing on us, should do your age some 
+mischief, 
+Bru. Do so: and let no man abide this 
+deed, 
+
+
+But we the doers. 
+Re-enter TREBONIUS. 
+
+
+Cas. Where is Antony ? 
+
+Tre. Fled to his house amazed: 
+
+Men, wives and children stare, cry out and 
+run 
+As it were doomsday. 
+
+Bru. Fates, we will know your pleasures: 
+That we shall die, we know; ‘tis but the time 
+And drawing days out, that men stand upon. 
+
+Cas. Why, he that cuts off twenty years 
+
+of life ~ 101 
+Cuts off so many years of fearing death. 
+Bru. Grant that, and then is death a ben- 
+efit: 
+So are we Cesar’s friends, that have abridged 
+His time of fearing death. Stoop, Romans, 
+stoop, 
+And let us bathe our hands in Cesar’s blood 
+Up to the elbows, and besmear our swords: 
+Then walk we forth, even to the market-place, 
+And; waving our red weapons o’er our heads, 
+Let's all cry ‘Peace, freedom and liberty!’ 
+Cas.. Stoop, then, and wash. How many 
+ages hence 
+Shall this: our lofty scene be acted over 
+In states unborn and accents yet unknown! 
+
+
+CAESAR 963 
+
+
+Bru. How many times shall Cesar bleed 
+im sport, 
+That now on Pompey’s basis lies along 
+No worthier than the dust! 
+Cas. So oft as that shall be, 
+So often shall the knot of us be call’d 
+The men that gave their country liberty. © 
+Dec. What, shall we forth? 
+Cas. Ay, every man away: 
+Brutus shall lead; and we will grace his héeis 
+
+
+With the most boldest and best hearts of Rome. 
+
+
+Enter a Servant. 
+
+
+Bru. Soft! who comes here? A friend of 
+Antony's. 
+
+Serv. Thus, Brutus, did my master bid me 
+kneel; 
+
+
+Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down; 
+And being prostrate, thus he bade me say: 
+Brutus is noble, wise, valiant, and honest: 
+Cesar was mighty, bold, royal, and loving: 
+Say I love Brutus, and I honour him; 
+Say I fear'd Cesar, honour’d him and loved 
+him. 
+If Brutus will vouchsafe that Antony 
+May safely come to him, and be resolved 
+How Cesar hath deserved to lie in death, 
+Mark Antony shall not love Cesar dead 
+So well’ as Brutus living; but will follow 
+The fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus 
+Thorough the hazards of this untrod state 
+
+
+130 
+
+
+With all true faith. So says my masier 
+Antony. 
+
+Bru. Thy master is a wise and valiant 
+Roman; 
+
+
+I never thought him worse. 
+Te!l him, so please him come unto this place, 
+He shall be satisfied; and, by my honour, 14} 
+Depart untouch'd, 
+Serv. I'll fetch him presently. [Fxii. 
+Bru. 1 know that we shall have him well 
+to friend. 
+Cas. I wish we may: but yet have |. a 
+mind 
+That fears him much; and my misgiying still 
+Falls shrewdly to the purpose. ‘ 
+Bru. But here comes Antony. 
+
+
+Re-enter ANTONY. 
+
+
+Welcome, Mark Antony. 
+Ant. O mighty Cesar! dost thou lie se ? 
+Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, 
+Shrunk to this little measure? Fare thee weli. 
+I know not, gentlemen, what you intend, 15! 
+Who:-else must be let blood, who elsé.as rank: 
+If T myself, there is no hour so fit 
+As Cesar’s death's hour, nor no. instrument 
+Of half that worth as those. your swords, 
+made rich 
+
+
+964 JULIUS 
+
+
+CAESAR {Acr III, Sc. I 
+
+
+With the most noble blood of all this world. 
+I do beseech ye, if you bear me hard, 
+Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and 
+smoke, 
+Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years, 
+I shall not find myself so apt to die: 160 
+No place will please me so, no mean of death, 
+As here by Cesar, and by you cut off, 
+The choice: and master spirits of this age. 
+Bru. O Antony, beg not your death of us. 
+Though now we must appear bloody and cruel, 
+As, by our hands and this our present act, 
+You see we do, yet see you but our hands 
+And this the bleeding business they have done: 
+Our hearts you see not; they are pitiful; 
+And pity to the general wrong of Rome— 170 
+As fire drives out fire, so pity pity— 
+
+
+Hath done this deed on Cesar. For your 
+part, 
+To you our swords have leaden points, Mark 
+Antony: 
+Our arms, in strength of malice, and our 
+hearts 
+
+
+Of brothers’ temper, do receive you in 
+With all kind love, good thoughts, and rev- 
+erence. 
+
+Cas. Your voice shall be as strong as any 
+
+man’s 
+In the disposing of new dignities. 
+
+Bru. Only be patient till we have appeased 
+The multitude, beside themselves with fear, 
+And then we will deliver you the cause, 
+Why I, that did love Caesar when I struck 
+
+him, - 
+Have thus proceeded. 
+
+Ant. I doubt not of -your wisdom. 
+Let éach man render me his bloody hand: 
+First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you; 
+Next, Caius Cassius, do I take your hand; 
+Now, Decius Brutus, yours; now yours, Me- 
+
+tellus; 
+Yours, Cinna; and, my valiant Casca, yours; 
+Though last, not least in love, yours, good 
+Trebonius. 
+Gentlemen all,—alas, what shall I say? 190 
+My credit now stands on such slippery ground, 
+That one of two bad ways you must conceit 
+me, 
+Either a coward or a flatterer. 
+That I did love thee, Cesar, O, ‘tis true: 
+If then thy spirit look upon us now, 
+Shall it not grieve thee dearer than thy death, 
+To see thy Antony making his peace, 
+Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes, 
+Most noble! in the presence of thy corse? 
+Had I as many eyes as thou hast wounds, 200 
+Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood, 
+It would become me better than to close 
+In terms of friendship with thine enemies. 
+
+
+Pardon me, Julius! 
+brave hart; 
+Here didst thou fall; and here thy hunters 
+
+stand, 
+Sign’d in thy spoil, and crimson'd in thy lethe. 
+O world, thou wast the forest to this hart; 
+And this, indeed, O world, the heart of thee. 
+How like a deer, strucken by many princes, 
+Dost thou here lie! 210 
+
+Cas. Mark Antony,— 
+
+Ant. Pardon me, Caius Cassius: 
+The enemies of Cesar shall say this; 
+
+Then, in a friend, it is cold modesty. 
+
+Cas. I blame you not for praising Cesar so; 
+But what compact mean you to have with us? 
+Will you be prick’d in number of our friends; 
+Or shall we on, and not depend on you? 
+
+Ant. Therefore I took your hands, but 
+
+was, indeed, 
+Sway'd from the point, by looking down on 
+Cesar. 
+Friends am I with you all and love you all, 
+Upon this hope, that you shall give me reasons 
+Why and wherein Cesar was dangerous. 
+
+Bru. Or else were this a savage spectacle: 
+Our reasons are so full of good regard 
+That were you, Antony, the son of Cesar, 
+You should be satisfied. 
+
+Ant. That’s all I seek: 
+And am moreover suitor that I may 
+Produce his body to the market-place; 
+And in the pulpit, as becomes a friend, 
+Speak in the order of his funeral. 
+
+Bru. You shall, Mark Antony. 
+
+Cas. Brutus, a word with you. 
+[Aside to Bru.] You know not what you do: 
+
+do not consent 
+
+‘That Antony speak in his funeral: 
+Know you how much the people may be moved 
+By that which he will utter? 
+
+Bru. By your pardon; 
+I will myself into the pulpit first, 
+And show the reason of our Cesar’s death: 
+What Antony shall speak, I will protest 
+He speaks by leave and by permission, 
+And that we are contented Cesar shall 240 
+Have all true rites and lawful ceremonies. 
+It shall advantage more than do us wrong. 
+
+Cas. I know not what may fall; I like it 
+
+not. 
+
+Bru. Mark Antony, here, take you Casar’s 
+
+body. 
+You shall not in your funeral speech blame us, 
+But speak all good you can devise of Cesar, 
+And say you do't by our permission; 
+Else shall you not have any hand at all 
+About his funeral: and you shall speak 
+
+
+Here wast thou bay'd, 
+
+
+230 
+
+
+In the same pulpit whereto I am going, 250 
+
+
+‘After my speech is ended. 
+
+
+, 
+{ 
+
+
+| 
+
+
+aor Se. I] 
+
+
+JULIUS CAESAR 
+
+
+965 
+
+
+Ant. 
+I do desire no more. 
+Bru. Prepare the body then, and follow us. 
+[Exeunt all but Antony. 
+Ant. O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of 
+earth, 
+That I am meek and gentle with these butchers! 
+Thou art the ruins of the noblest man 
+That ever lived in the tide of times. 
+Wee to the hand that shed this costly blood! 
+Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,— 259 
+Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby 
+lips, 
+To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue— 
+A curse shall light upon the + limbs of men; 
+Domestic fury and fierce civil strife 
+Shall cumber all the parts of Italy; 
+Blood and destruction shall be so in use 
+And dreadful objects so familiar 
+That mothers shall but smile when they behold 
+Their infants quarter’d with the hands of war; 
+All pity choked with custom of fell deeds: 
+And Cesar’s spirit, ranging for revenge, 270 
+With Ate by his side come hot from hell, 
+Shall in these confines with a monarch’s voice 
+Cry “Havoc,” and let slip the dogs of war; 
+That this foul deed sha!l smell above the earth 
+With carrion men, groaning for burial. 
+
+
+Be it so; 
+
+
+Enter a Servant. 
+
+
+‘You serve Octavius Czsar, do you not? 
+Serv. I do, Mark Antony. 
+Ant. Cesar did write for him to come to 
+Rome. 
+Serv. He did receive his letters, and is 
+coming; 
+And bid me say to you by word of mouth— 
+O Cesar!— [Seeing the body. 
+Ant. Thy heart is big, get thee apart and 
+weep. 
+Passion, I see, is catching; for mine eyes, 
+Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine, 
+Began to water. Is thy master coming? 
+Serv. He lies to-night within seven leagues 
+of Rome. 
+Ant. Post back with speed, and tell him 
+_ what hath chanced: 
+Here is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome, 
+No Rome of safety for Octavius yet; 289 
+Hie hence, and tell him so. Yet, stay awhile; 
+Thou shalt not back till I have borne th's corse 
+Into the market-place: there shall I try, 
+In my oration, how the people take 
+The cruel issue of these bloody men; 
+According to the which, thou shalt discourse 
+To young Octavius of the state of things. 
+Lend me your hand, [Exeunt with Cesar's 
+; body. 
+
+
+Scene II. The Forum. 
+
+
+Enter Brutus and Cassius, and ‘a_ throng 
+of Citizens. 
+
+Citizens. We will be satisfied; let us be 
+
+satisfied. 
+
+Bru. Then follow me, and give me audi- 
+
+ence, friends. 
+Cassius, go you into the other street, 
+And part the numbers. ° 
+Those that will hear me speak, let ‘em stay 
+here; 
+Those that will follow Cassius, go with him; 
+And public reasons shall be rendered 
+Of Cesar's death. 
+First Cit. I will hear Brutus speak. 
+Sec. Cit. I will hear Cassius; and com- 
+pare their reasons, 
+When severally we hear them rendered. 10 
+[Exit Cassius, with some of the Citizens. 
+Brutus goes into the pulpit. 
+
+Third Cit. The noble Brutus is ascended: 
+
+silence! 
+
+Bru. Be patient till the last. 
+
+Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for 
+my cause, and be silent, that you may hear: 
+believe me for mine honour, and have respect 
+to mine honour, that you may believe: censure 
+me in your wisdom, and awake your senses, 
+that you may the better judge. If there be any 
+in this assembly, any dear friend of Cesar’s, to 
+him I say, that Brutus’ love to Caesar was no 
+less than his. If then that friend demand why 
+Brutus rose against Cesar, this is my answer:— 
+Not that I loved Cesar less, but that I loved 
+Rome more. Had you rather Cesar were living 
+and die all slaves, than that Casar were dead, 
+to live all free men? As Cesar loved me, } 
+weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at 
+it; as he was valiant, I honour him: but, as he 
+was ambitious, I slew him. There is tears for 
+his love; joy for his fortune; honour for his 
+valour; and death for his ambition. Who is 
+here so base that would be a bondman? If 
+any, speak; for him have I offended. Who ‘is 
+here so rude that would not be a Roman? If 
+any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is 
+here so vile that will not love his country? If 
+any, speak; for him have I offended. 1 pause 
+for a reply. 
+
+All. None, Brutus, none. 
+
+Bru. Then none have | offended. I have 
+done no more to Cesar than you shall do to 
+Brutus. The question of his death is en- 
+rolled in the Capitol; his glory not extenu- 
+ated, wherein he was worthy, nor his offences 
+
+
+enforced, for which he suffered death. 
+
+
+Enter ANTONY and others, with C7EsArR's 
+body. 
+
+
+966 JULIUS 
+
+
+Here comes his body, mourned by Mark An- 
+tony: who, though he had no hand in his 
+death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, a 
+piace in the commonwealth; as which of you 
+shall not? With this I depart—that, as I slew 
+my best lover for the good of Rome, I have 
+the same dagger for myself, when it shall 
+please my country to need my death. 
+
+All, Live, Brutus! Tive, live! 
+
+First Cit, Bring him with triumph home 
+
+unto his house. 
+
+
+Sec. Cit. Give him a statue with his an- 
+cestors. - 
+Third Cit. Let him be Cesar. 
+
+
+Fourth Cit, Cesar's better parts 
+Shall be crown’d in Brutus. 
+
+First Cit. We'll bring him to his house 
+With shouts and clamours. 
+
+
+Bru. My countrymen,— 
+Sec, Cit. Peace, silence! Brutus speaks. 
+First Cit. Peace, ho! 
+
+
+Bru. Good countrymen, let me depart alone, 
+And, for my sake, stay here with Antony: 61] 
+Do grace to Cesar’s corpse, and grace his 
+speech 
+
+Tending to Cesar’s glories; which Mark An- 
+tony, 
+
+By our permission, is allow'd to make. 
+
+{ do entreat you, not a man depart, 
+
+Save I alone, till Antony have spoke. [Fxit. 
+
+First Cit. Stay, ho! and let us hear Mark 
+
+Antony. 
+Third Cit. Let him go up into the public 
+chair; 
+Well hear him. Noble Antony, go up. 69 
+
+Ant. For Brutus’ sake, | am beholding to 
+
+you. [Goes into the pulpit. 
+
+Fourth Cit. What does he say of Brutus? 
+
+Third Cit. He says, for Brutus’ sake, 
+He finds himself beholding to us all. 
+
+Fourth Cit. “Twere best he speak no harm 
+
+of Brutus here. 
+
+First Cit. "This Caesar was a tyrant. 
+
+Third Cit. Nay, that’s certain: 
+‘We. are blest that Rome is rid of him. 
+
+Sec. Cit. Peace! let us hear what Antony 
+
+can say. 
+
+Ant. You gentle Romans,— 
+
+Citizens. Peace, ho! let us hear him. 
+
+Ant, Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend 
+
+me your ears; 
+{ come to bury Cesar, not to praise him. 
+The evil that men do lives after them; 80 
+The good is oft interred with their bones; 
+So let it be with Cesar. The noble Brutus 
+Hath told you Cesar was ambitious: 
+If it were so, it was a grievous fault, 
+And grievously hath Cesar answer'd -it. 
+Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest— 
+
+
+CAESAR [Act II], Se. Ih 
+
+
+For Brutus is an honourable man; 
+So are they all, all honourable men— 
+Come | to speak in Caesar's funeral. 
+He was my friend, faithful and just to me: 9C 
+But Brutus says he was amb tious; 
+And Brutus is an honourable man. 
+He hath brought many captives home to Rome, 
+Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill: 
+Did this in Cesar seem ambitious? 
+When that the poor have cried, Cesar hath 
+wept: 
+Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: 
+Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; ” 
+And Brutus is an honourable man. 
+You all did see that on the Lupercal 100 
+I thrice presented him a kingly crown, 
+Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambi- 
+tion > 
+Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; 
+And, sure, he is an honourable man. 
+I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, 
+But here I am to speak what I do know. 
+You all did love him once, not without cause: 
+What cause withholds you then, to mourn 
+for him? 
+O judgement! thou art fled to brutish beasts, 
+And men have lost their reason. Bear with 
+me; 110 
+My heart is in the coffin there with Cesar, 
+And I must pause till it come back to me. 
+First Cit. Methinks there is much reason 
+in his sayings. 
+Sec. Cit. If thou consider rightly of the 
+matter, 
+Cesar has had great wrong. 
+Third Cit. . Has he, masters? 
+I fear there will a worse come in his place. 
+Fourth Cit. Mark'd ye his words? He 
+would not take the crown; 
+Therefore ‘tis certain he was not ambitious. 
+First Cit. If it be found so, some wil) 
+dear abide it. 
+Sec. Cit. Poor soul! his eyes are red as 
+fire with weeping. 120 
+Third Cit. There's not a nobler man in 
+Rome than Antony. 
+Fourth Cit. Now mark him, he begins 
+again to speak. 
+Ant, But yesterday the word of Cesar migh! 
+Have stood against the world; now lies he 
+there, 
+And none so poor to do him reverence. 
+O masters, if I were disposed to stir 
+Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 
+I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, 
+Who, you all know, are honourable men: 
+I will not do them wrong; I rather choose 130 
+To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you, 
+Than I will wrong such honourable men. 
+
+
+— oe 
+
+
+Act II, Sc. I] JULIUS 
+
+
+*y Vc. 
+
+
+CESAR 967 
+
+
+But here's a parchment with the seal of 
+Cesar; 
+J found it in his closet, ‘tis his will: 
+Let but the commons hear this testament— 
+_ Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read— 
+And they would go and kiss dead Cesar's 
+' wounds 
+And dip their napkins in his sacred blood, 
+Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, 
+And, dying, mention it within their wills, 140 
+Bequeathing it as a rich legacy 
+Unto their issue. : 
+Fourth Cit. We'll hear the will: read it, 
+Mark Antony. 
+All. The will, the will! 
+Cesar’s will. 
+Ant. Have patience, gentle friends, | must 
+not read it; 
+It is not meet you know how Cesar loved you. 
+You are not wood, you are not stones, but men; 
+And, being men, hearing the will of Cesar, 
+-It will inflame you, it will make you mad: 
+‘Tis good you know not that you are his heirs; 
+For, if you should, O, what would come of it! 
+Fourth Cit. Read the will; we'll hear it, 
+Antony; 
+You shall read us the will, Czsar’s will. 
+Ant. Will you be patient? will you stay 
+awhile? . 
+1 have o’ershot myself to tell you of it: 
+I fear I wrong the honourable men 
+Whose daggers have stabb’d Cesar; I do 
+fear it. 
+Fourth Cit. They were traitors: honour- 
+able men! 
+All. The will! the testament! 
+‘Sec. Cit. They were villains, murderers: 
+the will! read the will. 160 
+Ant. You w.ll compel me, then, to read 
+the will? 
+Then make a ring about the corpse of Cesar, 
+_And let me show you him that made the will. 
+Shall I descend? and will you give me leave? 
+Several Cit. Come down. 
+Sec. Cit. Descend. 
+Third Cit. You shall have leave. 
+: [Antony comes down. 
+Fourth Cit. A ring; stand round. 
+First Cit. Stand from the hearse, stand 
+from the body. 
+Sec. Cit. Room for Antony, most noble 
+
+
+we will hear 
+
+
+Antony. 170 
+Ant. Nay, press not so upon me; stand 
+far off. 
+
+
+Several Cit. Stand back; room; bear back. 
+Ant. If you have tears, prepare to shed 
+them now. 
+-You all do know this mantle: I remember 
+The first time ever Cesar put it on; 
+
+
+"Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent, 
+That day he overcame the Nervii: 
+Look, in this space ran Cassius’ dagger through: 
+See what a rent the envious Casca made: 
+Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd; 
+And as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, 181 
+Mark how the blood of Cesar follow'd it, 
+As rushing out of doors, to be resolved 
+If Brutus so unkindly knock’d, or no; 
+For Brutus, as you know, was Czsar’s angel: 
+Judes O you gods, how dearly Cesar loved 
+im! 
+This was the most unkindest cut of all; 
+For when the noble Cesar saw him stab, 
+Ingratitude, more strong than traitors’ arms, 
+Quite vanquish’d him: then burst his mighty 
+heart; 190 
+And, in his mantle muffling up his face, 
+Even at the base of Pompey’s statua, 
+Which all the while ran blood, great Cesar 
+fell. 
+O, what a fall was there, my countrymen! 
+Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, 
+Whilst b!oody treason flourish’d over us. 
+O, now you weep; and, I perceive, you feel 
+The dint of pity: these are gracious drops. 
+Kind souls, what, weep you when you but 
+behold 
+Our Cesar’s vesture wounded? Look you here, 
+Here is himself, marr’d, as you see, with 
+traitors. 201 
+First Cit. O piteous spectacle! 
+Sec. Cit. O noble Ceasar! 
+Third Cit. O woful day! 
+Fourth Cit. O traitors, villains! 
+First Cit. O most bloody sight! 
+Sec. Cit. We will be revenged. 
+All. Revenge! About! Seek! Burn! Fire! 
+Kill! Slay! Let not a traitor live! 
+Ant. Stay, countrymen. 
+First Cit. Peace there! 
+Antony. 
+Sec, Cit. We'll hear him, we'll follow 
+him, we'll die with him. 
+Ant. Good friends, sweet friends, let me 
+not stir you up 
+To such a sudden flood of mutiny. 
+They that have done this deed are honourable: 
+What private griefs they have, alas, I know 
+not, 
+That made them do it: they are wise and 
+honourable, 
+And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. 
+I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts: 
+I am no orator, as Brutus is; 221 
+But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, 
+That love my friend; and that they know full 
+well 
+i That gave me public leave to speak of him: 
+
+
+hear the noble 
+
+
+210 smug wm | 
+
+
+968 
+
+
+For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, 
+Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, 
+To stir men’s blood: I only speak right on; 
+I tell you that which you yourselves do know; 
+Show you sweet Cesar’s wounds, poor poor 
+dumb mouths, 229 
+
+Andb d them speak for me: but were I Brutus, 
+And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony 
+Would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue 
+In every wound of Cesar that should move 
+The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. 
+
+All. We'll mutiny. 
+
+First Cit. We'll burn the house of Brutus. 
+
+Third Cit. Away, then! come, seek the 
+
+
+conspirators. 
+
+Ant. Yet hear me, countrymen; yet hear 
+me speak. 
+
+All. Peace, ho! Hear Antony. Most no- 
+ble Antony! 
+
+
+Ant. Why, friends, you go to do you 
+know not what: 240 
+Wherein hath Cesar thus deserved your loves? 
+Alas, you know not: I must tell you, then: 
+You have forgot the will I told you of. 
+All. Most true. The will! Let's stay 
+and hear the will. 
+Ant. Here is the will and under Cesar’s 
+seal. 
+To every Roman citizen he gives, 
+To every several man, seventy five drachmas. 
+Sec. Cit. Most noble Cesar! We'll re- 
+venge his death. 
+Third Cit. O royal Cesar! 
+
+
+Ant. Hear me with patience. 250 
+
+All, Peace, ho! 
+
+Ant. Moreover, he hath left you all his 
+wa'ks, 
+
+
+His private arbours and new-planted orchards, 
+On this side Tiber; he hath left them you, 
+And to your heirs for ever, common pleasures, 
+To walk abroad, and recreate yourselves. 
+Here was a Cesar! when comes such another > 
+First Cit. Never, never. Come, away, 
+away! 
+We'll burn his body in the holy place, 
+And with the brands fire the traitors’ houses. 
+Take up the body. 261 
+Sec. Cit. Go fetch fire. 
+Third Cit. Pluck down benches. 
+Fourth Cit. Pluck down forms, windows, 
+any thing. [Exeunt Citizens with the body. 
+Ant. Now let it work. Mischief, thou art 
+afoot, 
+Take thou what course thou wilt! 
+
+
+Enter a Servant. 
+
+
+How now, fellow! 
+Serv. Sir, Octavius is already come to Rome. 
+
+
+Ant. Where is he? 
+
+
+JULIUS CAESAR 
+
+
+ee ee eee 
+
+
+Serv, He and Lepidus are at Czsar’s house. 
+
+Ant. And thither will I straight to visit him: 
+He comes upon a wish. Fortune is merry, 271 
+And in this mood will give us any thing. 
+
+Serv. I heard him say, Brutus and Cassius 
+
+
+Are rid like madmen through the gates of 
+
+
+Rome. é 
+Ant. Belike they had some notice of the 
+people, 
+How I had moved them. Bring me to Oc- 
+tavius. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene HI. A street. 
+Enter CiNNA the poet. 
+
+
+Cin. I dreamt to-night that I did feast 
+with Cesar, 
+And things unluckily charge my fantasy: 
+I have no will to wander forth of doors, 
+Yet something leads me forth. 
+
+
+Enter Citizens. 
+First Cit. What is your name? 
+Sec. Cit. Whither are you going? 
+Third Cit. Where do you dwell? 
+
+
+Fourth Cit. Are you a married man or a 
+
+
+bachelor ? 
+
+
+Sec. Cit. Answer every man directly. 10 
+
+First Cit. Ay, and br efly. 
+
+Fourth Cit. Ay, and wisely. 
+
+Third Cit. Ay, and truly, you were best. 
+
+Cin. What is my name? Whither am I 
+going? Where do I dwell? Am I a married 
+man or a bachelor? ‘Then, to answer every 
+man directly and briefly, wisely and truly: 
+wisely I say, I ‘am a bachelor. 
+
+
+Sec. Cit. That's as much as to say, they 
+
+
+are fools that marry: you'll bear me a bang 
+for that, I fear. Proceed; directly. 21 
+
+Cin. Directly, I am going to Czsar’s funeral. 
+
+First Cit. As a friend or an enemy? 
+
+Cin. As a friend. 
+
+Sec. Cit. That matter is answered directly. 
+
+Fourth Cit: For your dwelling,—briefly. 
+
+Cin. Briefly, I dwell by the Capitol. 
+
+Third Cit. Your name, sir, truly. 
+
+Cin. Truly, my name is Cinna. 
+
+First Cit. Tear him to pieces; he’s a con» 
+spirator. 
+
+Cin. I am Cinna the poet, I am Cinna the 
+poet. 
+
+Fourth Cit. Tear him for his bad verses, 
+tear him for his bad verses. 
+
+Cin. I am not Cinna the conspirator. 
+
+Fourth Cit. It is no matter, his mame ’s 
+Cinna; pluck but his name out of his heart, 
+and turn him going. 39 
+
+Third Cit. Tear him, tear him! Come, 
+
+
+brands, ho! fire-brands: to Brutus’, to Cas- 
+
+
+[Acr Ill, Sc. I 
+
+
+Ba i ah om hen, 
+Act IV, Sc. I} JULIUS 
+sius’; burn all: some to Decius’ house, and 
+
+
+some to Casca’s; some to Ligarius’: away, go! 
+[Exeuni. 
+
+
+ACT IV. 
+
+
+Scene I. A house in Rome. 
+
+
+Antony, Octavius, and LeEpipus, seated at 
+a table. 
+
+
+Ant. These many, then, shall die; their 
+names are prick’d. 
+Oct. Your brother too must die; consent 
+you, Lepidus? 
+Lep. I do consent,— 
+Oct. Prick him down, Antony. 
+Lep. Upon condition Publius shall not live, 
+Who is your sister’s son, Mark Antony. 
+Ant. He shall not live; look, with a spot 
+I damn him. 
+But, Lepidus, go you to Cesar’s house; 
+_ Fetch the will hither, and we shall determine 
+~ How to cut off some charge in legacies. 
+Lep. What, shall I find you here? 10 
+Oct. Or here, or at the Capitol. 
+[Exit Lepidus. 
+Ant, This is a slight unmeritable man, 
+Meet to be sent on errands: is it fit, 
+The three-fold world divided, he should stand 
+One of the three to share it? 
+Oct. So you thought him; 
+And took his voice who should be prick’d to 
+die, 
+In our black sentence and proscription. 
+Ant. Octavius, I have seen more days 
+than you: 
+And though we lay these honours on this man, 
+To ease ourselves of divers slanderous loads, 
+He shall but bear them as the ass bears gold, 
+To groan and sweat under the business, 
+Either led or driven, as we point the way; 
+And having brought our treasure where we will, 
+Then take we down his load, and turn him off, 
+Like to the empty ass, to shake his ears, 
+And graze in commons. 
+Oct. You may do your will; 
+But he’s a tried and valiant soldier. ” 
+Ant, So is my horse, Octavius; and for that 
+I do appoint him store of provender: 30 
+It is a creature that I teach to fight, 
+To wind, to stop, to run directly on, 
+His corporal motion govern'’d by my spirit. 
+And, in some taste, is Lepidus but so; 
+He must be taught and train’d and bid go 
+forth; 
+A barren-spirited fellow; one that feeds 
+On abjects, orts and imitations, 
+Which, out of use and staled by other men, 
+Begin his fashion: do not talk of him, 
+But as a property. And now, Octavius, 40 
+
+
+‘We, 
+
+
+CAESAR 969 
+
+
+Listen great things:—Brutus and Cassius 
+
+Are levying powers: we must straight make 
+head: 
+
+Therefore let our alliance be combined, 
+
++ Our best friends made, our means stretch’d; 
+
+And let us presently go sit in council, 
+
+How covert matters may be best disclosed, 
+
+And open perils surest answered, 
+
+Oct. Let us do so: for we are at the stake, 
+And bay'd about with many enemies; 
+re that smile have in their hearts, I 
+
+ear, 
+
+
+Millions of mischiefs. [Exeunt. 
+Scene II. Camp near Sardis. Before 
+Brutus's tent. 
+
+Drum, Enter Brutus, Lucitius, Lucius, 
+
+
+and Soldiers; 
+
+
+meeting them. 
+
+
+Bru. Stand, ho! 
+Lucil, Give the word, ho! and stand. 
+Bru. What now, Lucilius! is Cassius near? 
+Lucil. He is at hand; and Pindarus is come 
+To do you salutation from his master. 
+Bru. He greets me well. Your master, 
+Pindarus, 
+In his own change, or by ill officers, 
+Hath given me some worthy cause to wish 
+Things done, undone: but, if he be at hand, 
+I shall be satisfied. 
+Pin. I do not doubt 10 
+But that my noble master will appear 
+Such as he is, full of regard and honour. 
+Bru. He is not doubted. A word, Lucilius; 
+How he received you, let me be resolved. 
+Lucil. With courtesy and with respect 
+enough; 
+But not with such familiar instances, 
+Nor with such free and friendly conference, 
+As he hath used of old. 
+Bru. Thou hast described 
+20 
+
+
+Titintus and PinDARUS 
+
+
+A hot friend cooling: ever note, Lucilius, 
+When love begins to sicken and decay, 
+It useth an enforced ceremony. 
+There are no tricks in plain and simple faith; 
+But ho!low men, like horses hot at hand, 
+Make gallant show and promise of their mettle; 
+But when they should endure the bloody spur, 
+They fall their crests, and, like deceitful jades, 
+Sink in the trial. Comes his army on? 
+Lucil. They mean this night in Sardis to 
+be quarter’d; 
+The greater part, the horse in general, 
+Are come with Cassius. 
+Bru. Hark! he is arrived. 36 
+[Low march within. 
+March gently on to meet him. 
+
+
+Enter Cassrus and his powers. 
+
+
+970 JULIUS 
+
+
+CESAR [Act IV, Sc. Il] 
+
+
+Cas. Stand, ho! 
+
+Bru. Stand, ho! 
+
+First Sol. Stand! 
+
+Sec. Sol. Stand! 
+
+Third Sol. Stand! 
+
+Cas. Most noble brother, you have done 
+me wrong. 
+
+Bru. Judge me, you gods! wrong I mine 
+enemies ? 
+
+And, if not so, how should I wrong a brother > 
+Cas. Brutus, this sober form of yours hides 
+
+
+Speak the word along. 
+
+
+wrongs; 40 
+And when you do then— 
+Bru. Cassius, be content; 
+
+
+Speak your griefs softly: I do know you well. 
+Before the eyes of both our armies here, 
+Which should perceive nothing but love from 
+us, 
+Let us not wrangle: bid them move away; 
+Then in my tent, Cassius, enlarge your griefs, 
+And I will give you audience. 
+Cas. Pindarus, 
+Bid our commanders lead their charges off 
+A little from this ground. 
+Bru. Lucilius, do you the like; and let no 
+man 50 
+Come to our tent till we have done our con- 
+ference. 
+Let Lucius and Titinius guard our door. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. Brutus's tent. 
+Enter Brutus and Cassius. 
+
+
+Cas. That you have wrong'd me doth ap- 
+pear in this: 
+You have condemn’d and noted Lucius Pella 
+For taking bribes here of the Sardians; 
+Wherein my letters, praying on his side, 
+Because I knew the man, were slighted off. 
+Bru. You wrong'd yourself to write in 
+such a case. 
+Cas. In such a time as this it is not meet 
+That every nice offence should bear his com- 
+ment. 
+Bru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you your- 
+self 
+Are much condemn’d to have an itching palm; 
+To sell and mart your offices for gold 1] 
+To undeservers. 
+Cas. I an itching palm! 
+You know that you are Brutus that speak this, 
+Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. 
+Bru. The name of Cassius honours this 
+corruption, 
+And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. 
+Cas. Chastisement! 
+Bru. Remember March, the ides of March 
+remember : 
+Did not great Julius bleed for justice’ sake? 
+
+
+What villain touch’d h’s body, that did stab, 
+And not for justice? What, shall one of us, 
+That struck the foremost man of all this world 
+But for supporting robbers, shall we now 
+Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, 
+And sell the mighty space of our large honours 
+For so much trash as may be grasped thus? 
+
+I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, 
+Than such a Roman. 
+
+Cas. Brutus, bay not me; 
+I'll not endure it: you forget yourself, 
+To hedge me in; I am a soldier, I, 
+
+Older in practice, abler than yourself 
+To make conditions. 
+
+Bru. Go to; you are not, Cassius. 
+
+Cas. I am. 
+
+Bru. I say you are not. 
+
+aera me no more, | shall forget my- 
+
+self ; 
+Have mind upon your health, tempt me no 
+farther. 
+
+Bru, Away, slight man! 
+
+Cas. Is't possible? 
+
+Bru. Hear me, for I will speak. 
+Must I give way and room to “your rash 
+
+choler ? 
+Shall I be frighted when a madman stares? 40 
+
+Cas. O ye gods, ye gods! must I endure 
+
+all this 2 
+Bru. All this! ay, more: fret till your 
+proud heart break; 
+Go show your slaves how choleric you are, 
+And make your bondmen tremble. Must I 
+budge ? 
+Must I observe you? must I stand and crouch 
+Under your testy humour? By the gods, 
+You shall digest the venom of your spleen, 
+Though it do split you; for, from this day 
+forth, 
+I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, 
+When you are waspish. 
+
+Cas. Is it come to this? 50 
+
+Bru. You say you are a better soldier: 
+Let it appear so; make your vaunting true, 
+And it shall please me well: for mine own part, 
+I shall be glad to learn of noble men. 
+
+Cas. You wrong me every way: you 
+
+wrong me, Brutus; 
+I said, an elder soldier, not a better: 
+Did I say ‘better’? 
+Bru. If you dd, I care not. 
+Cas. When Cesar lived, he durst not thus 
+
+
+have moved me. 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+Bru. Peace, peace! you durst not so have 
+tempted him. 
+
+Cas. I durst not! 60 
+
+Bru. No. 
+
+Cas. What, durst not tempt him! 
+
+Bru. For your life you durst not, 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. III} JULIUS 
+
+
+x, 
+
+
+CAESAR 971 
+
+
+Cas. Do not presume too much upon my 
+love; 
+I may do that I shall be sorry for. 
+Bru. You have done that you should be 
+sorry for. 
+There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats, 
+For I am arm’d so strong in honesty 
+That they pass by me as the idle wind, 
+Which I respect not. I did send to you 
+Fox certain sums of gold, which you denied me: 
+For I can raise no money by vile means: 71 
+By heaven, I had rather coin my heart, 
+And drop my blood for drachmas, than to 
+wring 
+From the hard hands of peasants their vile 
+trash 
+By any indirection: I did send 
+To you for gold to pay my legions, 
+Which you denied me: was that done like 
+Cassius ? 
+Should I have answer’d Caius Cassius so? 
+_ When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, 
+To lock such rascal counters from his friends, 
+Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts; 
+Dash him to pieces! 
+
+
+Cas. I denied you not. 
+
+Bru. You did. 
+
+Cas. 1 did not: he was but a fool that 
+brought 
+
+
+My answer back. Brutus hath rived my heart: 
+A friend should bear his friend’s infirmities, 
+But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. 
+Bru. I do not, till you practise them on me. 
+Cas. You love me not. 
+Bru. I do not like your faults. 
+Cas. A friendly eye could never see such 
+faults. 90 
+Bru. A flatterer’s would not, though they 
+do appear 
+As huge as high Olympus. 
+Cas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, 
+come, 
+Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, 
+For Cassius is aweary of the world; 
+Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother ; 
+Check’d like a bondman; all his faults ob- 
+served, 
+Set in a note-book, learn’d, and conn’d by rote, 
+To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep 
+My spirit from mine eyes! There is my dagger, 
+And here my naked breast; within, a heart 
+Dearer than Plutus’ mine, richer than gold: 
+If that thou be’st a Roman, take it forth; 
+I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart: 
+Strike, as thou didst at Cesar; for, I know, 
+When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst 
+him better 
+Than ever thov lovedst Cassius. 
+Bru. Sheathe your dagger: 
+
+
+Be angry when you will, it shall have scope; 
+Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour. 
+O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb 110 
+That carries anger as the flint bears fire; 
+Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, 
+And straight is cold again. 
+
+Cas. Hath Cassius lived 
+To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, 
+When grief, and blood ill-temper’d, vexeth 
+
+him ? 
+
+Bru. When I 
+
+
+temper'd too. 
+
+
+spoke that, I was ill- 
+
+
+Cas. Do you confess so much? Give me 
+your hand. 
+
+Bru. And my heart too. 
+
+Cas. O Brutus! 
+
+Bru. What's the matter > 
+
+
+Cas. Have not you love enough to bear 
+
+
+with me, 
+When that rash humour which my mother 
+gave me 120 
+
+
+Makes me forgetful ? 
+
+Bru. Yes, Cassius; and, from henceforth, 
+When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, 
+He'll think your mother chides, and leave 
+
+
+you so. 
+Poet. [Within] Let me go in to see the 
+generals; 
+There is some grudge between ‘em, ‘ts not 
+meet 
+
+
+They be alone. 
+Lucil. [Within] You shall not come to 
+
+
+them. 
+Poet. [Within] Nothing but death shall 
+stay me. 
+Enter Poet, followed by Lucitius, Tirinius, 
+and Luctus. 
+Cas. How now! what's the matter? 
+Poet. For shame, you generals! what do 
+you mean? 130 
+Love, and be friends, as two such men 
+should be; 
+
+
+For I have seen more years, I 'm sure, than ye. 
+Cas. Ha, ha! how vilely doth this cynic 
+
+
+rhyme! 
+Bru. Get you hence, sirrah; saucy fellow, 
+hence! 
+Cas. Bear withh’m, Brutus; 'tis his fashion. 
+Bru. I'll know his humour, when he knows 
+his time: 
+What should the wars do with these jigging 
+fools? 
+Companion, hence! 
+Cas. Away, away, be gone! 
+[Exit Poet. 
+Bru. Lucilius and Titinius, bid the com- 
+manders 
+
+
+Prepare to lodge their companies to-night. 140 
+
+
+972 JULIUS 
+
+
+Lh SNA 
+
+
+C/ESAR [Act IV, Sc. I 
+
+
+Cas. And come yourselves, and bring Mes- 
+sala w.th you 
+Immediately to us. 
+[Exeunt Lucilius and Titinius. 
+Bru. Lucius, a bowl of wine! [Exit Lucius. 
+Cas. I did not think you could have been 
+so angry. 
+Bru. O Cassius, 1 am sick of many griefs. 
+Cas. Of your philosophy you make no use, 
+If you give place to accidental evils. 
+
+
+Bru. No man bears sorrow better. Portia 
+is dead. 
+
+Cas. Ha! Portia! 
+
+Bru. She is dead. 
+
+Cas. How ’scaped | killing when I cross’d 
+you so? 150 
+
+
+O insupportable and touching loss! 
+Upon what sickness? 
+Bru. Impatient of my absence, 
+And grief that young Octavius with Mark 
+Antony 
+Have made themselves so strong:—for with 
+her death 
+That tidings came;—with this she fell dis- 
+tract, 
+And, her attendants absent, swallow’d fire. 
+Cas. And died so? 
+Bru. Even so. 
+Cas. O ye immortal gods! 
+
+
+Re-enter Lucius, with wine and taper. 
+
+
+Bru. Speak no more of her. Give me a 
+bowl of wine. 
+In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius. 
+Cas. My heart is thirsty for that noble 
+pledge. 160 
+Fill, Lucius, till the wine o’erswell the cup; 
+I cannot drink too much of Brutus’ love. 
+Bru. Come in, Titinius! [Exit Lucius. 
+
+
+Re-enter Titinius, with MEssaca. 
+
+
+Welcome, good Messala. 
+Now sit we close about this taper here, 
+And call in question our necessities. 
+Cas. Portia, art thou gone? 
+Bra. No more, I pray you. 
+Messala, I have here received letters, 
+That young Octavius and Mark Antony 
+Come down upon us with a mighty power, 
+Bending their exped'tion toward Philippi. 170 
+Mes. Myself have letters of the selfsame 
+tenour. 
+Bru. With what addition? 
+Mes. That by proscription and bills of out- 
+lawry, 
+Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus, 
+Have put to death an hundred senators. 
+Bru. Therein our letters do not well agree; 
+Mine speak of seventy senators that died 
+Bv their proscriptions, Cicero being one. 
+
+
+Cas. Cicero one! 
+Mes. Cicero is dead, 
+And by that order of proscription. 180_ 
+Had you your letters from your wife, my lord? 
+Bru. No, Messala. 
+Mes. Nor nothing in your letters writ of her ? 
+Bru. Nothing, Messala. 
+
+
+Mes. That, methinks, is strange. 
+
+Bru. Why ask you? hear you aught of her 
+in yours? 
+
+Mes. No, my lord. 
+
+Bru. Now, as you are a Roman, tell me 
+true. 
+
+
+Mes tikes like a Roman bear the truth 
+tell: 
+
+
+For certain she is dead, and by strange manner. 
+Bru. Why, farewell, Portia. We must 
+die, Messala: 190 
+
+
+With meditating that she must die once, 
+I have the patience to endure it now. 
+Mes. Even so great men great losses should 
+endure. 
+Cas. I have as much of this in art as you, 
+But yet my nature could not bear it so. 
+Bru. Well, to our work alive. What do 
+you think 
+Of marching to Philippi presently ? 
+Cas. 1 do not think it good. 
+Bra. Your reason? 
+Cas. This it is: 
+"Tis better that the enemy seek us: 199 
+So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers, 
+Doing himself offence; whilst we, lying still, 
+Are full of rest, defence, and nimbleness. 
+Bru. Good reasons must, of force, give 
+place to bettér. 
+The people ‘twixt Philippi and this ground 
+Do stand but in a forced affection; 
+For they have grudged us contribution: 
+The enemy, marching along by them, 
+By them shall make a fuller number up, 
+Come on refresh’d, new-added, and en- 
+couraged; 
+From which advantage shall we cut him off, 
+If at Philippi we do face him there, 
+These people at our back. 
+
+
+Cas. Hear me, good brother. 
+Bru. Under your pardon. You must note 
+beside, 
+
+
+That we have tried the utmost of our friends, 
+Our legions are brim-full, our cause is ripe: 
+The enemy increaseth every day; 
+
+We, at the height, are ready to decline. 
+There is a tide in the affairs of men, 
+Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; 
+Omitted, all the voyage of their life 220 
+Is bound in shallows and in miseries. 
+
+On such a full sea are we now afloat; 
+And we must take the current when it serves, 
+
+
+aa 
+
+
+Acr IV, Sc. HI] JULIUS 
+Or lose our ventures. 
+Cas. Then, with your will, go on; 
+We'll along ourselves, and meet them at 
+Philippi. 
+Bru. The deep of night is crept upon our 
+talk, 
+And nature must obey necessity ; 
+Which we will niggard with a little rest. 
+There is no more to say? 
+
+Cas. No more. Good night: 
+Early to-morrow will we rise, and hence. 230 
+
+Bru. Lucius!. [Enter Lucius.] My gown. 
+
+[Exit Lucius.] Farewell, good Messala: 
+Good night, Titinius. Noble, noble Cassius, 
+Good night, and good repose. 
+
+Cas. O my dear brother! 
+This was an ill beginning of the night: 
+Never come such division ‘tween our souls! 
+Let it not, Brutus. 
+
+
+Bru. Every thing is well. 
+Cas. Good night, my lord. 
+
+Bru. Good night, good brother. 
+Tit. Mes. Good night, Lord Brutus. 
+Bru. Farewell, every one. 
+
+
+[Exeunt all but Brutus. 
+Re-enter Lucius, with the gown. 
+
+
+Give me the gown. Where 1s thy instrument? 
+Luc. Here in the tent. 
+Bru. What, thou speak’st drowsily? 240 
+Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o’er- 
+watch'd. 
+Call Claudius and some other of my men; 
+I'll have them sleep on cushions in my tent. 
+
+
+Luc. Varro and Claudius! 
+Enter Varro and CLaupius. 
+
+
+Var. Calls my lord? 
+Bru. 1 pray you, sirs, lie in my tent and 
+sleep; 
+It may be I shall raise you by and by 
+On business to my brother Cassius. 
+Var. So please you, we will stand and 
+watch your pleasure. 
+Bru. 1 will not have it so: lie down, good 
+sirs; 250 
+It may be I shall otherwise bethink me. 
+Look, Lucius, here’s the book I sought for $0; 
+I put it in the pocket of my gown. 
+[Var. and Clau. lie down. 
+Luc. I was sure your lordship did not give 
+‘it me. 
+Bru. Bear with me, good boy, I am much 
+forgetful. 
+Cansi thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile, 
+And touch thy instrument a strain or two? 
+Luc. Ay, my lord, an't please you. 
+Bru. It does, my boy: 
+I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing. 
+
+
+Luc. It is my duty, sir. 260 
+
+
+CAESAR 973 
+
+
+Bru. I should not urge thy duty past thy 
+might; 
+
+I know young bloods look for a time of rest. 
+Luc. 1 have slept, my lord, already, 
+Bru. It was well done; and thou shalt 
+
+sleep again; 
+
+I will not hold thee long: if I do live, 
+
+I will be good to thee. [Music, and a song. 
+
+This is a sleepy tune. O murderous slumber, 
+
+Lay’st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy, 
+
+That plays thee music? Gentle knave, good 
+
+night; 269 
+
+
+I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee: 
+
+
+(f thou dost nod, thou break’st thy instrument; 
+
+
+I'll take it from thee; and, good boy, good 
+night. 
+Let me see, let me see; is not thé leaf turn’d 
+
+
+down 
+Where I left reading? Here it is, I think. 
+
+
+Enter the Ghost of Cesar. 
+
+
+How ill this taper burns! 
+here ? 
+I think it is the weakness of mine eyes 
+That shapes this monstrous apparition. 
+It comes upon me. Art thou any thing? 
+Axrt thou some god, some angel, or some devil, 
+That makest my blood cold and my hair to 
+stare > 
+Speak to me what thou art. 
+Ghost. Thy evil spirit, Brutus. 
+Bru. Why comest thou? 
+Ghost. To tell thee thou shalt see me at 
+Philippi. 
+Bru. Well; 
+Ghost. 
+Bru. 
+
+
+Ha! who comes 
+
+
+281 
+
+
+then I shall see thee again? 
+
+Ay, at Philippi. 
+
+Why, I wili see thee at Philippi, then. 
+[Exit Ghost. 
+
+Now I have taken heart thou vanishest: 
+
+Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with thee, 
+
+Boy, Lucius! Varro! Claudius! Sirs, awake! 
+
+Claud‘us! 291 
+
+
+Luc. The strings, my lord, are false, 
+Bru. He thinks he still is at his instru- 
+ment. 
+Lucius, awake! 
+Luc. My lord? 
+Bru. Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou 
+
+
+so criedst out? 
+Luc. My lord, I do not know that I did cry. 
+Bru. Yes, that thou didst: didst thou see 
+any thing? 
+
+
+Luc. Nothing, my lord, 
+
+Bru. Sleep again, Lucius. S'‘rrah Clau- 
+dius!) [To Var.] Fellow thou, awake! 30) 
+
+Var. My lord? 
+
+Clau. My lord? 
+
+Bru. Why did you so cry out, sirs, in 
+
+
+your sleep? 
+
+
+974 
+
+
+Var, Clau. Did we, my lord? 
+Bru. Ay: saw you any thing? 
+. No, my lord, I saw nothing. 
+Nor I, my lord. 
+Bru. Go and commend me to my brother 
+Cassius ; 
+Bid him set on his vowers betimes before, 
+
+
+And we will follow. 
+
+
+JULIUS 
+
+
+Var. Clau. It shall be done, my lord. 309 
+[Exeunt. 
+ACT V: 
+Scene I. The plains of Philippi. 
+
+
+Enter Octavius, ANTONY, and their army. 
+
+
+Oct. Now, Antony, our hopes are answered: 
+You said the enemy would not come down, 
+But keep the hills and upper regions; 
+
+It proves not so: their battles are at hand; 
+They mean to warn us at Philippi here, 
+Answering before we do demand of them. 
+
+Ant. Tut, I am in their bosoms, and I know 
+Wherefore they do it: they could be content 
+To visit other places; and come down 
+With fearful bravery, thinking by this face 
+To fasten in our thoughts that they have 
+
+courage; 
+But ‘tis not so. 
+
+
+Enter a_ Messenger. 
+
+
+Mess. Prepare yov, generals: 
+The enemy comes on in gallant show; 
+Their bloody sign of battle is hung out, 
+And something to be done immediately. 
+- Ant. Octavius, lead your battle softly on, 
+Upon the left hand of the even field. 
+Oct. Upon the right hand I; keep thou 
+the left. 
+Ant. Why do you cross me in this exigent? 
+Oct. I do not cross you; but I will do so. 
+[March. 
+
+
+Drum. Enter Brutus, Cassius, and their 
+Army; Lucitius, Titintus, MEssata, and 
+others. 
+
+
+Bru. They stand, and. would have parley. 
+
+
+Cas. Stand fast, Titinius: we must out and 
+talk. 
+Oct. Mark Antony, shall we give sign of 
+battle > 
+Ant. No, Cesar, we will answer on their 
+charge. 
+Make forth; the generals would have some 
+words. 
+
+
+Oct. Stir not until the signal. 
+
+Bru. Words before blows: is it so, coun- 
+trymen ? 
+
+Oct, Not that we love words better, as you 
+
+
+do. 
+
+
+CFESAR [Acr V, Sc. 1 
+
+
+Bru. Good words 
+strokes, Octavius. 
+Ant. In your bad strokes, Brutus, you give 
+good words: 30 
+Witness the hole you made in Cesar’s heart, 
+Crying ‘Long live! hail, Cesar!’ 
+
+Cas. Antony, 
+The posture of your blows are yet unknown; 
+But for your words, they rob the Hybla bees, 
+And leave them honeyless. 
+
+Ant. Not stingless too. 
+
+Bru. O, yes, and soundless too; 
+
+For you have stol'n ther buzzing, Antony, 
+And very wisely threat before you sting. 
+Ant. Villains, you did not so, when your 
+vile daggers 
+Hack’d one another in the sides of Cesar: 40 
+You show'd your teeth like apes, and fawn’d 
+like hounds, 
+And bow’'d like bondmen, kissing Czsar’s feet; 
+Whilst damned Casca, like a cur, behind 
+Struck Cesar on the neck. O you flatterers! 
+Cas. paler aetst Now, Brutus, thank your- 
+self: 
+This tongue had not offended so to-day, 
+If Cassius might have ruled. 
+Oct. Come, come, the cause: if arguing 
+make us sweat, 
+The proof of it will turn to redder drops. 
+Lock; 50 
+I draw a sword against conspirators; 
+When think you that the sword goes up again? 
+Never, till Czesar’s three and thirty wounds 
+Be well avenged; or till another Casar 
+Have added slaughter to the sword of traitors. 
+Bru. Cesar, thou canst not die by traitors’ 
+hands, 
+Unless thou bring’st them with thee. 
+
+Oct. So I hope; 
+I was not born to die on Brutus’ sword. 
+
+Bru. O, if thou wert the noblest of thy 
+
+
+than bad 
+
+
+are better 
+
+
+strain, 
+Young man, thou couldst not die more hon- 
+ourable. 60 
+Cas. A peevish schoolboy, worthless of 
+
+
+such honour, 
+Join’d with a masker and a reveller! 
+Ant. Old Cassius still! 
+Oct. Come, Antony, away! 
+Defiance, traitors, hurl we in your teeth: 
+If you dare fight to-day, come to the field; 
+If not, when you have stomachs. 
+[Exeunt Octavius, Antony, and their army, 
+Cas. Why, now, blow wind, swell billow 
+and swim bark! 
+The storm is up, and all is on the hazard. 
+Bru. Ho, Luc’lius! hark, a word with. you. 
+Lucil. [Standing forth] My lord? 
+
+
+[Brutus and Lucilius converse apart. 
+
+
+Acr.V, Se; Ill] * 
+
+
+Cas. Messala! 
+
+Mes. [Standing forth] What says my gen- 
+
+eral? 
+
+Cas. Messala. 71 
+This is my birth-day; as this very day 
+Was Cassius born. Give me thy hand, Messala: 
+Be thou my witness that against my will 
+As Pompey was, am I compell’d to set 
+Upon one battle all our liberties. 
+
+You know that I held Epicurus strong 
+
+And h’s opinion: now | change my mind, 
+And partly credit things that do presage. 
+Coming from Sardis, on our former ensign 80 
+Two mighty eagles fell, and there they perch’d, 
+Gorging and feeding from our soldiers’ hands; 
+Who to Philippi here consorted us: 
+
+This morning are they fled away and gone; 
+And in their steads do ravens, crows, and kites, 
+Fly o'er our heads and downward look on us, 
+As we were sickly prey: their shadows seem 
+A canopy most fatal, under which 
+-Our army lies, ready to give up the ghost. 
+
+Mes, Believe not so. 
+
+Cas. I but believe it partly; 90 
+For I am fresh of spirit and resolved 
+To meet all perils very constantly. 
+
+Bru. Even so, Lucilius. 
+
+Cas. Now, most noble Brutus, 
+The gods to-day stand friendly, that we may, 
+Lovers in peace, lead on our days to age! 
+But since the affairs of men rest still incertain, 
+Let’s reason with the worst that may befall. 
+If we do lose this battle, then is this 
+The very last time we shall speak together: 
+What are -you then determined to do? _100 
+
+Bru. Even by the rule of that philosophy 
+By Which I did blame Cato for the death 
+Which he did give himself, I know not how, 
+But I do find it cowardly and vile, 
+
+For fear of what might fall, so to prevent 
+The time of | fe: arming myself with patience 
+To stay the providence of some high powers 
+That govern us below. 
+
+Cas. Then, if we lose this battle, 
+You are contented to be led in triumph 
+Thorough the streets of Rome? 110 
+
+Bru. No, Cassius, no: think not, thou no- 
+
+ble Roman, 
+That ever Brutus will go bound to Rome; 
+He bears too great a mind. But this same day 
+Must end that work the ides of March begun; 
+And whether we shall meet again I know not. 
+Therefore our everlasting farewell take: 
+For éver, and for ever, farewell, Cassius! 
+If we do meet again, why, we shall smile; 
+Jf not, why then, this part’ng was well made. 
+
+Cas. For ever, and for ever, farewell, 
+
+Brutus! 
+Jf we do meet again, we ‘Il smile indeed; 121 
+
+
+JULIUS CAESAR 
+
+
+975 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+If not. “tis true this parting was well made. 
+Bru. Why, then, lead on. O, that a man 
+might know 
+The end of this day's business ere it come! 
+But it sufficeth that the day will end, 
+And then the end is known. Come, ho! away! 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. The field of battle. 
+Alarum. Enter Brutus and MEssaa. 
+Bru. Ride, ride, Messala, ride, and give 
+
+these bills 
+
+Unto the legions on the other side. 
+
+[Loud alarum. 
+
+Let them set on at once; for I perceive 
+
+But cold demeanour in Octavius’ wing, 
+
+And sudden push gives them the overthrow. 
+
+Ride, ride, Messala: let them all come down. 
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+The same, 
+
+
+Scene III. Another part of the field. 
+Alarums. Enter Cassius and Titinius. 
+Cas. O, look, Titinius, look, the villains fly! 
+Myself have to mine own turn’d enemy: 
+This ensign here of mine was turning back; 
+I slew the coward, and did take it from him. 
+Tit. O Cassius, Brutus gave the word too 
+early; 
+Who, having some advantage on Octavius, 
+Took it too eagerly: his soldiers fell to spoil, 
+Whilst we by Antony are all enclosed. 
+
+
+Enter Pinparus. 
+
+
+Pin. Fly further off, my lord, fly further of ; 
+Mark Antony is in your tents, my lord: 10 
+Fly, therefore, noble Cassius, fly far off. 
+
+Cas. This hill is far enough. Look, look, 
+
+Titinius; 
+Are those my tents where I perceive the fire? 
+
+Tit. They are, my lord. 
+
+Cas. Titinius, if thou lovest me, 
+Mount thou my horse, and hide thy spurs in 
+
+him, 
+Till he have brought thee up to yonder troops, 
+And here aga'n; that I may rest assured 
+Whether yond troops are friend or enemy. 
+Tit. I will be here again, even with a 
+thought. [Exit. ° 
+
+Cas. Go, Pindarus, get higher on that hill; 
+My sight was ever thick; regard Titinius, 21 
+And tell me what thou notest about the field. 
+
+[Pindarus ascends the hill. 
+This day I breathed first: time is come round, 
+And where | did begin. there shall I end; 
+My life is run his compass. Sirrah, what 
+news ? 
+Pin. [Above] O my lord! 
+Cas, What news? 
+
+
+976 JULIUS 
+
+
+CAESAR 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+Pin. [Above] Titinius is enclosed round 
+about 
+
+With horsemen, that make to him on the spur; 
+
+Yet he spurs on. Now they are almost on 
+
+
+him. 
+Now, Titinius! Now some light. O, he 
+lights too. 31 
+He’s ta’en. [Shout.] And, hark! they shout 
+for joy. 
+Cas. Come down, behold no more. 
+
+
+O, coward that I am, to live so long, 
+To see my best friend ta’en before my face! 
+
+
+PinpaRus descends. 
+
+
+Come hither, sirrah: 
+
+In Parthia did I take thee prisoner; 
+
+And then I swore thee, saving of thy life, 
+
+That whatsoever I did bid thee do, 
+
+Thou shouldst attempt it. Come now, keep 
+thine oath; 40 
+
+Now be a freeman: and with this good sword, 
+
+That ran through Cesar’s bowels, search this 
+bosom. 
+
+Stand not to answer: here, take thou the hilts; 
+
+And, when my face is cover’d, as ‘tis now, 
+
+Guide thou the sword. [Pindarus stabs him.]} 
+Cesar, thou art revenge 
+
+Even with the sword that kill'd thee. [Dies. 
+
+Pin. So, | am free; yet would not so have 
+
+been, 
+
+Durst I have done my will. O Cassius, 
+
+Far from this couutry Pindarus shall run, 
+
+Where never Roman shall take note of him. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+Re-enter Titin1us with MESSALA. 
+
+
+Mes. It is but change, Titinius; for Oc- 
+tavius 
+‘Is overthrown by noble Brutus’ power, 
+As Cassius’ legions are by Antony. 
+ae id ete tidings will well comfort Cas- 
+
+
+ries * Where did you leave him? 
+
+Til. All disconsolate, 
+With Pindarus his bondman, on this hill. 
+
+Mes. Is not that he that lies upon the 
+
+ground ? 
+
+Tit. He lies not like the living. O my 
+
+heart! 
+
+Mes. Is not that he? 
+
+Tit. No, this was he, 
+But Cassius is no more. O setting sun, 
+As in thy red rays thou dost sink to night, 
+So in his red blood Cassius’ day is set; 
+The sun of Rome is set! Our day is gone; 
+Clouds, dews, and dangers come; our deeds 
+
+are done! 
+
+
+Messala, 
+60 
+
+
+Mistrust of my success hath done this deed. 
+Mes. Mistrust of good success hath done 
+this deed. 
+O hateful error, melancholy’s child, 
+Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of 
+men 
+The things that are not? O error, soon con- 
+ceived, 
+Thou never comest unto a happy birth, 70 
+But kill’st the mother that engender’d thee! 
+Tit. What, Pindarus! where art thou, Pin- 
+darus? 
+Mes. Seek him, Titinius, whilst 1 go meet 
+The noble Brutus, thrusting this report 
+Into his ears; I may say, thrusting it; 
+For percing steel and darts envenomed 
+Shall be as welcome to the ears of Brutus 
+As tidings of this sight. 
+Tit. Hie you, Messala, 
+And I will seek for Pindarus the while. 79 
+[Exit Messala. 
+Why didst thou send me forth, brave Cassius? 
+Did I not meet thy friends? and did not they 
+Put on my brows this wreath of victory, 
+And bid me give it to thee? Didst thou not 
+hear their shouts? 
+Alas, thou hast misconstrued every thing! 
+But, hold thee, take this garland on thy brow; 
+Thy Brutus bid me give it thee, and I 
+Will do his bidding. Brutus, come apace, 
+And see how I regarded Caius Cassius. 
+By your leave, gods:—this is a Roman’s part: 
+
+
+Come, Cassius’ sword, and find Titnius” 
+heart. [Kills himself. 
+Alarum. Re-enitér Messaca, with Brutus, 
+
+
+young Cato, Strato, VoLuMNIus, © and 
+Luciuius. 
+
+
+Bru. Where, where, Messala, doth his 
+body lie? 91 
+Mes. Lo, yonder, and Titinius mourning it. 
+Bru. Titinius’ face is upward. 
+Cato. He is slain. 
+Bru. O Julius Cesar, thou art mighty yet! 
+Thy spirit walks abroad, and turns our swords 
+In our own proper entrails. [Low alarums. 
+Cato. Brave Titinius! 
+Look, whether he have not crown’d dead Cas- 
+sius! 
+Bru. Are yet two Romans living such as 
+these ? ‘ 
+The last of all the Romans, fare thee well! 
+It is impossible that ever Rome 1 
+Should breed thy fellow. Friends, 1 owe 
+more tears 
+To this dead man than you shail see me pay. 
+I shall find time, Cassius, I shall find time. 
+Come, therefore, and to Thasos send his body: 
+
+
+[Act V, Se. IIL 
+
+
+cs Pe re es Tee ee 
+
+Acr V, Sc. V] JULIUS 
+
+His funerals shall not be in our camp, 
+
+Lest it discomfort us. Lucilius, come; 
+
+And come, young Cato; let us to the field. 
+
+Labeo and Flavius, set our battles on: 
+
+"Tis three o'clock; and, Romans, yet ere night 
+
+We shall try fortune in a second fight. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Another part of the field. 
+
+
+Alarum. Enter fighting, Soldiers of both 
+armies; then BRuTus, young Cato, Lu- 
+CILIUS, and others. 
+
+Bru. Yet, countrymen, O, yet hold up your 
+heads! 
+
+Cato. What bastard doth not? Who will 
+go with me? 
+
+I will proclaim my name about the field: 
+
+I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho! 
+
+_ A foe to tyrants, and my country’s friend; 
+-. |] am the son of Marcus Cato, ho! 
+Bru. And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I; 
+
+
+Brutus, my country’s friend; know me for 
+
+
+Brutus! [Exit. 
+Lucil. O young and noble Cato, art thou 
+down? 
+
+
+Why, now hou diest as bravely as Titinius; 
+And mayst be honour'd, being Cato’s son. 
+First Sold. Yield, or thou diest. 
+Lucil. Only I yield to die: 
+There is so much that thou wilt kill me 
+straight; [Offering money. 
+Kill Brutus, and be honour'd in his death. 
+First Sold. We must not. A noble prisoner! 
+Sec. Sold. Room, ho! Tell Antony, Bru- 
+~ tus Is ta’en. 
+First Sold. I'll tell the news. 
+
+
+the general. 
+
+
+Here comes 
+
+
+Enter ANTONY. 
+
+
+Brutus is ta’en, Brutus is ta’en, my lord. 
+
+
+Ant. Where is he? 
+Lucil. Safe, Antony; Brutus is safe 
+enough: 
+I dare assure thee that no enemy 21 
+
+
+Shall ever take alive the noble Brutus: 
+
+The gods defend him from so great a shame! 
+
+When you do find him, or alive or dead, 
+
+He will be found like Brutus, like himself. 
+Ant. This is not Brutus, friend; but, I 
+_ assure you, 
+
+A prize no less in worth: keep this man safe; 
+
+Give him all kindness: I had rather have 
+
+Such men my friends than enemies. Go on, 
+
+And see whether Brutus be alive or dead; 30 
+
+And bxing us word unto Octavius’ tent 
+
+How every thing is chanced. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+CAESAR 977 
+
+
+ScENE V. Another part of the field. 
+
+
+Enter Brutus, Darpanius, CLitus, STRATo, 
+and VoLUMNIUS. 
+
+
+Bru. Come, poor remains of friends, rest 
+on this rock. 
+Cli. Statilius show'’d the torch-light, but, 
+my lord, 
+He came not back: he is or ta’en or slain. 
+Bru. Sit thee down, Clitus: slaying is the 
+word; 
+It is a deed in fashion. 
+
+
+Hark thee, Clitus. 
+
+
+[Whispers. 
+Cli. What, I, my lord? No, not for all 
+the world. 
+
+
+Bru. Peace then! no words. 
+
+Cli. I"ll rather kill myself. 
+
+Bru. Hark thee, Dardanius. [ Whispers. 
+
+Dar. Shall I do such a deed? 
+
+Cli. O Dardanius! 
+
+Dar. O Clitus! 10 
+
+Cli. What ill request did Brutus make to 
+thee > 
+
+Dar. To kill him, Clitus. Look, he medi- 
+tates. 
+
+
+Cli. Now is that noble vessel full of grief, 
+That it runs over even at his eyes. 
+
+Bru, Come hither, good Volumnius; list 
+
+a word. 
+
+Vol. What says my lord? 
+
+Bru. Why, this, Volumnius: 
+The ghost of Czsar hath appear’d to me 
+Two several times by night; at Sardis once, 
+And, this last night here in Philippi fields: 
+I know my hour is come. 
+
+Vol. Not so, my lord. 20 
+
+Bru. Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius. 
+Thou seest the world, Volumnius, how it goes; 
+Our enemies have beat us to the pit: 
+
+[Low alarums, 
+It is more worthy to leap in ourselvés, 
+
+
+Than tarry till they push us. Good Vol- 
+umn us, s 
+
+Thou know’st that we two went to school to- 
+gether: 
+
+
+Even for that our love of o'd, I prithee, 
+Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it. 
+Vol. That's not an office for a friend, my 
+
+
+lord. [Alarum siill. 
+Cli. Fly, fly, my lord; there is no tarry- 
+ing here. 30 
+Bru. Farewell to you; and you; and you, 
+Volumnius. 
+
+
+Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep; 
+Farewell to thee too, Strato. Countrymen, 
+My heart doth joy that yet in all my life 
+I found no man but he was true to me. 
+
+I shall have glory by this losing day 
+
+More than Octavius and Mark Antony 
+
+
+978 JULIUS 
+
+
+By this vile conquest shall attain unto. 
+So fare you well at once; for Brutus’ tongue 
+Hath almost ended his life’s history: 
+Night hangs upon mine eyes; my bones would 
+rest, 
+That have but labour’d to attain this hour. 
+[Alarum. ' Cry within, “Fly, fly, fly!’ 
+
+Cli. Fly, my lord, fly. 
+
+Bru. Hence! I will follow. 
+[Exeunt Clitus, Dardanius, and Volumnius. 
+I prithee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord: 
+Thou art a fellow of a good respect; 
+
+Thy life hath had some smatch of honour 
+in it: 
+
+Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face, 
+
+While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato? 
+
+Stra. Give me your hand first. Fare you 
+
+well, my lord. 
+
+Bru. Farewell, good Strato. [Runs on his 
+
+sword.| Cesar, now be still: 50 
+I kill’d not thee with half so good a will. 
+[Dies. 
+
+
+Alarum. Retreat. Enter Octavius, ANTONY, 
+Messata, Lucitius, and the army. 
+
+
+Oct. What man is that? 
+
+Mes. My master’s man. 
+thy master? 
+
+Stra. Free from the bondage you are in, 
+Messala: 
+
+
+The conquerors can but make a fire of him; 
+
+
+Strato, where is 
+
+
+CAESAR [Acr V, Sc. V 
+
+
+For Brutus only overcame himself, - 
+And no man else hath honour by his death. 
+Lucil. So Brutus should be found. I 
+thank thee, Brutus, 
+That thou hast proved Luc‘lius’ saying true. 
+Oct. All that served Brutus, I will enter- 
+tain them. 60 
+Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me? 
+Stra. Ay, if Messala will prefer me to you. 
+Oct. Do so, good Messala. 
+Mes. How died my master, Strato? 
+Stra. I held the sword, and he did run on 
+It. 
+Mes. Octavius, then take him to follow 
+thee, 
+That did the latest service to my master. 
+Ant. This was the noblest Roman of them 
+all: 
+All the conspirators save only he 
+Did that they did in envy of great Cesar; 70 
+He only, in a general honest thought 
+And common good to all, made one of them, 
+H's life was gentle, and the elements 
+So mix'd in him that Naiure might stand up 
+And say to all the world ‘This was a man!” 
+Oct. According to his virtue let us use him, 
+With all respect and rites of burial. 
+Within my tent his bones to-night shall lie, 
+Most like a sold er, order’d honourably. 
+So call the field to rest; and let’s away, 80 
+To part the glories of this happy day. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+MACBETH 
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSON. 
+
+
+Duncan, king of Scotland. 
+MatcoLm, this sons 
+DoNnaLBAIN, : 
+MacsetH, | 
+Banquo, } 
+MacourF, ) 
+LENNOX, 
+Ross, 
+MENTEITH, 
+ANGUS, 
+CaiTHNEss, J 
+FLEANCE, son to Banquo. 
+
+~ Srwarp, Earl of Northumberland, general 
+
+of the English forces. 
+
+Young Siwarp, his son. 
+SEYTON, an officer attending on Macbeth. 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+
+
+Scene I. A desert place. 
+Thunder and lightning. Enter three Witches. 
+First Witch. When shall we three meet 
+
+
+again 
+In thunder, lightning, or in rain> 
+
+Sec. Wiich. When the hurlyburly ’s done, 
+When the battle ’s lost and won. 
+
+Third Witch, That will be ere the set of 
+
+
+sun. 
+First Witch. Where the place? 
+Sec. Witch. Upon the heath. 
+Third Witch. There to meet with Macbeth. 
+First Witch. 1 come, Graymalkin! 
+Sec. Witch. Paddock calls. 
+Third Witch. Anon. 
+All. Fair is foul, and foul is fair: 
+Hover through the fog and filthy air. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+generals of the king’s army. 
+
+
+| 
+t noblemen of Scotland. 
+| 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+A camp near Forres. 
+
+
+Alarum within. Enter DuNcAN, MAtcotm, 
+DonaBaAIN, LENNOX, with Attendants, 
+meeting a bleeding Sergeant. 
+
+
+Dun. What bloody man is that? 
+report, 
+
+As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt 
+The newest state. 
+
+Mal. This is the sergeant 
+Who like a good and hardy soldier fought 
+*Gainst my captivity. Ha'l, brave friend! 
+Say to the king the knowledge of the broil 
+As thou didst leave it. 
+
+
+Scene II. 
+
+
+He can 
+
+
+Boy, son to Macduff. 
+
+An English Doctor. 
+
+A Scotch Doctor. 
+
+A Soldier. 
+
+A Porter. 
+
+An Old Man. 
+
+Lapy MacsetuH. 
+
+Lapy Macpurr. 
+
+Gentlewoman attending on Lady Macbeth. 
+HEcaTE. 
+Three witches. 
+Apparitions. 
+
+
+Lords, Gentlemen, Officers, Soldiers, Mur- 
+
+
+derers, Attendants, and Messengers. 
+
+
+Scene: Scotland: England. 
+Ser. Doubtful it stood; 
+
+
+As two spent swimmers, that do cling together 
+
+And choke their art. The merciless Macdon- 
+
+wald— 
+
+Worthy to be a rebel, for to that 
+
+The multiplying villanies of nature 
+o swarm upon him—from the western isles 
+
+Of kerns and gallowglasses is supplied; 
+
+And fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling, 
+
+Show'd like a rebel’s whore: but all’s too 
+
+weak: 
+
+For brave Macbeth—well he deserves that 
+
+name— 
+
+Disdaining fortune, with his brandish’d steel, 
+
+Which smoked with bloody execution, 
+
+Like valour’s minion carved out his passage 
+
+Till he faced the slave; 2 
+
++ Which ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell 
+
+to him, 
+
+Till he unseam’d him from the nave to the 
+
+chaps, 
+
+And fix’d his head upon our battlements. 
+Dun. O valiant cousin! worthy gentleman! 
+Ser. As whence the sun ‘gins his reflection 
+
+Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders 
+
+break, 
+
+So from that spring whence comfort seem’d 
+to come 
+Discomfort swells. Mark, king of Scotland, 
+
+mark: 
+
+No sooner justice had with valour arm'd 
+
+Compell’d these skipping kerns to trust their 
+
+heels, 30 
+
+
+19 
+
+
+979 
+
+
+980 
+
+
+MACBETH 
+
+
+iq 
+
+
+[Act I, Sc. Hl 
+
+
+ny 
+
+
+But the Norweyan lord surveying vantage 
+With furbish’d arms and new supplies of men 
+Began a fresh assault. 
+Dun. Dismay’d not this 
+Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo? 
+Ser. : Yes; 
+As sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion. 
+If I say sooth, | must report they were 
+As cannons overcharged with double cracks, 
+so they 
+Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe: 
+Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds, 
+Or memorize another Golgotha, 40 
+I cannot tell. 
+But I am faint, my gashes cry for help. 
+Dun. So well thy words become thee as 
+thy wounds; 
+They smack of honour both. Go get him 
+
+
+surgeons. [Exit Sergeant, attended. 
+Who comes here? 
+Enter Ross. 
+Mal. The worthy thane of Ross. 
+
+
+Len. What a haste looks through his eyes! 
+So should he look 
+That seems to speak things strange. 
+Ross. God save the king! 
+Dun. Whence camest thou, worthy thane? 
+Ross. From Fife, ‘great king; 
+Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky 
+And fan our people cold. Norway himself, 
+With terrible numbers, 
+Assisted by that most disloyal traitor 
+The thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict; 
+Till that Bellona’s bridegroom, lapp’d in proof, 
+Confronted him with self-comparisons, 
+Point against point rebellious, arm ‘gainst arm, 
+Curbing his lavish spirit: and, to conclude, 
+The victory fell on us. 
+
+
+Dun. Great happiness! 
+Ross. That now 
+Sweno, the Norways’ king, craves composi- 
+
+
+tion; 
+Nor would we deign him bur‘al of his men 60 
+Till he disbursed at Saint Colme’s inch 
+Ten thousand dollars to our general use. 
+Dun. No more that thane of Cawdor shall 
+deceive 
+Our bosom interest: go pronounce his present 
+death, 
+And with his former title greet Macbeth. 
+Ross. I'll see it done. 
+Dun. What he hath lost noble Macbeth 
+hath won. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. A heath near Forres. 
+Thunder. Enter the three Witches. 
+
+
+First Witch. Where hath thou been, sister? 
+Sec. Witch. Killing swine. 
+
+
+Third Witch. Sister, where thou? 
+First Witch. A sailor’s wife had chestnuts 
+in her lap, 
+And munch’d, and munch’d, and munch’d:—- 
+‘Give me,’ quoth I: , : 
+‘Aroint thee, witch!” the rump-fed ronyon 
+cries. 4 
+Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o’ the — 
+Tiger: 
+But in a sieve I'll thither sail, 
+And, |.ke a rat without a tail, 
+I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do. 
+Sec. Witch. I'll give thee a wind. 
+First Witch. Thou 'rt kind. 
+Third Witch. And | another. 
+First Witch. 1 myself have all the other, 
+And the very ports they blow, 
+All the quarters that they know 
+I’ the shipman’s card, 
+I will drain him dry as hay: 
+Sleep shall neither night nor day 
+Hang upon h’s pent-house lid; 
+He shall live a man forbid: 
+Weary se’nnights nine times nine 
+Shall he dwindle, peak and pine: 
+Though his bark cannot be lost, 
+Yet it shall be tempest-tost. 
+Look what I have. 
+Sec. Witch. Show me, show me. 
+First Witch. Here I have a pilot's thumb, 
+Wreck’d as homeward he did come, 
+[Drum within. 
+Third Witch. A drum, a drum! 30 
+Macbeth doth come. 
+All. The weird sisters, hand in hand, 
+Posters of the sta and land, 
+Thus do go about, about: 
+Thrice to thine and thrice to mine 
+And thrice again, to make up nine. 
+Peace! the charm’s wound up, 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+Enter MacseTH and Banquo. 
+
+
+Mach. So foul and fair a day I have not 
+seen, 
+Ban. How far is’t call’d to Forres? What 
+are these ; 
+So wither’d and so wild in their attire, 40 
+That look not like the inhabitants o’ the earth, 
+And yet are ont? Live you? or are you aught 
+That man may question? You seem to under- 
+stand me, 
+By each at once her choppy finger laying 
+Upon her skinny lips: you should be women, 
+And yet your beards forbid me to interpret 
+That you are so. 
+Macb. Speak, if you can: what are you? 
+First Witch. All hail, Macbeth! hail to 
+thee, thane of Glamis! 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+: Sane 
+
+
+‘me 
+
+
+- Acr I, Se. IIT] 
+
+
+MACBETH 
+
+
+we 
+
+
+a 
+981 
+
+
+Sec. Witch. All hail, Macbeth! hail to 
+
+
+thee, thane of Cawdor! 
+Third Witch. All hail, Macbeth, that 
+shalt be king hereafter! 50 
+Ban. Good sir, why do you start; and 
+seem to fear 
+
+Things that do sound so fair? 
+
+of truth, 
+
+Are ye fantastical, or that indeed 
+
+Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner 
+
+You greet with present grace and great pre- 
+
+diction 
+
+Of noble having and of royal hope, 
+
+That he seems rapt withal: to me you speak 
+
+not. 
+If you can look into the seeds of time, 
+
+_ And say which grain will grow and which 
+
+will not, 
+Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear 
+Your favours nor your hate. 
+. First Witch. Hail! 
+
+-- Sec. Witch. Hail! 
+
+Third Witch. Hail! 
+
+First Witch. Lesser than Macbeth, and 
+greater. 
+
+Sec. Witch. Not so happy, yet much hap- 
+pier. 
+
+Third Witch. Thou shalt get kings, though 
+thou be none: 
+
+So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo! 
+First With. Banquo and Macbeth, all hail! 
+Macb. Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell 
+
+me more: 70 
+
+By Sinel’s death I know I am thane of Glamis; 
+
+But how of Cawdor? the thane of Cawdor 
+
+lives, 
+
+A prosperous gentleman; and to be king 
+
+Stands not within the prospect of belief, 
+
+No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence 
+
+You owe this strange intelligence? or why 
+
+Upon this blasted heath you stop our way 
+
+With such prophetic greeting? Speak, | 
+
+charge you. [Witches vanish. 
+Ban. The earth hath bubbles, as the wa- 
+ter has, 
+
+And these are of them. 
+
+vanish'd ? 
+Mach. Into the air; and what seem’d cor- 
+poral inelted 
+
+As breath into the wind. Would they had 
+~ stay’d! 
+Ban. Were such things here as we do 
+
+speak about? 
+
+Or have we eaten on the insane root 
+
+‘That takes the reason prisoner? 
+
+Mach. Your children shall be kings. 
+Ban. You shall be king. 
+Mach. And thane of Cawdor too: went it 
+
+not so? 
+
+
+~ 
+
+
+I’ the name 
+
+
+Whither are they 
+8 
+
+
+o 
+
+
+Ban. To the selfsame tune and words. 
+
+
+Who's here? 
+Enter Ross and ANncus. 
+
+
+Ross. The king hath happily received, 
+
+Macbeth, 
+The news of thy success; and when he reads 
+Thy personal venture in the rebels’ fight, 
+His wonders and his praises do contend 
+Which should be thine or his: silenced with 
+
+that, 
+In viewing o'er the rest o’ the selfsame day, 
+He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks, 
+Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make, 
+Strange images of death. As thick as hail 
+Came post with post; and every one did bear 
+Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence, 
+And pour’d them down before him. 
+
+Ang, We are sent 100 
+To give thee from our royal master thanks; 
+Only to herald thee into his sight, 
+
+Not pay thee. 
+Ross. And, for an earnest of a greater 
+honour, 
+He bade me, from him, call thee thane of 
+Cawdor: 
+In which addition, hail, most worthy thane! 
+For it is thine. 
+Ban. What, can the devil speak true? 
+Mach. The thane of Cawdor lives: why 
+do you dress me 
+In borrow’d robes? 
+Ang. Who was the thane lives yet; 
+But under heavy judgement bears that life 110 
+Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was 
+combined ‘ 
+
+With those of Norway, or did line the rebel 
+
+With hidden help and vantage, or that with 
+both 
+
+He labour’d in his country’s wreck, I know not; 
+
+But treasons.capital, confess’d and proved, 
+
+Have overthrown him. 
+
+Macb. [Aside] Glamis, 
+
+Cawdor! 
+
+The greatest is behind. [To Ross and Angus] 
+Thanks for your pains. 
+
+[To Ban.] Do you not hope your children 
+shall be kings, 
+
+When those that gave the thane of Cawdor 
+fo me 
+
+Promised no less to them? 
+
+Ban. That trusted home 120 
+Might yet enkindle you unto the crown, 
+Besides the thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange: 
+And oftentimes, to wn us to our harm, 
+
+The instruments of darkness tell us truths, 
+Win us with honest trifles, to betray ’s 
+
+In deepest consequence. 
+
+Cousins, a word, I pray you. 
+
+
+and of 
+
+
+thane 
+
+
+982 
+
+
+MACBETH 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. IV 
+
+
+Macb, [Aside] Two truths are told, 
+As happy prologues to the swelling act 
+Of the imperial theme.—I thank you, gentle- 
+men. 
+[Aside] This supernatural soliciting 
+Cannot be ill, cannot be good: if ill, 
+Why hath it given me earnest of success, 
+Commencing in truth? I am thane of Caw- 
+dor: ; 
+If good, why do I yield to that suggestion 
+Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair 
+And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, 
+Against the use of nature? Present fears 
+Are less than horrible imaginings: 
+My thought, whose murder yet is but fan- 
+tastical, 
+Shakes so my single state of man that function 
+Is smother’d in surmise, and nothing is_ 141 
+But what is not. 
+Ban. Look, how our partner's rapt. 
+Macb. [Aside] If chance will have me 
+king, why, chance may crown me, 
+Without my stir. 
+Ban. New honours come upon him, 
+Like our strange garments, cleave not to their 
+mould 
+But with the aid of use. 
+Mach. [Aside] Come what come may, 
+Time and the hour runs through the roughest 
+day. 
+Ban. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your 
+leisure. 
+
+Mach. Give me your favour: my dull brain 
+was wrought 
+With things forgotten. 
+
+pains 
+Are register’'d where every day I turn 
+The leaf to read them. Let us toward the king. 
+Think upon what hath chanced, and, at more 
+time, 
+The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak 
+Our free hearts each to other. 
+Ban. Very gladly. 
+Mach. Till then, enough. Come, friends. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+130 
+
+
+Kind gentlemen, your 
+
+
+150 
+
+
+Scene IV. Forres. 
+
+
+Flourish. Enter Duncan, Matcoim, Don- 
+ALBAIN, LENNOX, and Attendants. 
+
+
+The palace. 
+
+
+Dun. Is execution done on Cawdor? Are 
+not 
+Those in commission yet return'd? 
+Mal. My liege, 
+
+
+They are not yet come back. But I have spoke 
+‘With one that saw him die: who did report 
+That very frankly he confess’d his treasons, 
+Implor’d your highness’ pardon and set forth 
+A deep repentance:. nothing in his life 
+
+
+Became him like the leaving it; he died 
+As one that had been studied in his death 
+To throw away the dearest thing he owed, 10 
+As ‘twere a careless trifle. 
+
+Dun. There ’s no art 
+To find the mind’s construction in the face: 
+He was a gentleman on whom | built 
+An absolute trust. 
+
+
+Enter MacsetH, Banquo, Ross, and 
+ANcGus. 
+
+
+O worthiest cousin! 
+The sin of my ingratitude even now 
+Was heavy on me: thou art so far before 
+That swiftest wing of recompense is slow 
+To overtake thee. Would thou hadst less 
+deserved, 
+That the proportion both of thanks and pay- 
+ment 
+Might have been mine! only I have left to say, 
+More is thy due than more than all can pay. 
+Macb. The service and the loyalty I owe, 
+In doing it, pays itself. Your highness’ part 
+Is to receive our duties; and our duties 
+Are to your throne and state children and 
+servants, 
+Which do but what they should, by doing 
+every thing 
+Safe toward your love and honour. 
+Dun. Welcome hither: 
+I have begun to plant thee, and will labour 
+To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo, 
+That hast no less deserved, nor must be known 
+No less to have done so, let me infold thee 31 
+And hold thee to my heart. 
+
+
+Ban. There if I grow, 
+The harvest is your own. 
+Dun. My plenteous joys, 
+
+
+Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves 
+In drops of sorrow. Sons, kinsmen, thanes, 
+And you whose places are the nearest, know 
+We will establish our estate upon 
+Our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter 
+The Prince of Cumberland; which honour 
+must 
+Not unaccompanied invest him only, 40 
+But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine 
+On all deservers. From hence to Inverness, 
+And bind us further to you. 
+Macb. The rest is labour, which is not 
+used for you: 
+I'll be myself the harbinger and make joyful 
+The hearing of my wife with your approach; 
+So humbly take my leave. 
+Dun. My worthy Cawdor! 
+Mach. [Aside] The Prince of Cumber- 
+land! that is a step 
+On which I must fall down, or else o’erlezp, 
+
+
+Acr I, Sc. V] 
+
+
+MACBETH 
+
+
+“Wi. 
+
+
+983 
+
+
+For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires; 
+Let not light see my black and deep desires: 
+The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be, 
+
+
+- Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+Dun. True, worthy Banquo; he is full so 
+valiant, 
+And in his commendations | am fed; 
+It is a banquet to me. Let's after him, 
+Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome: 
+It is a peerless kinsman. [Flourish. Exeunt. 
+
+
+Macbeth’s castle. 
+Enter Lapy Macsetn, reading a letter. 
+
+
+Lady M. “They met me in the day of 
+success; and I have learned by the perfectest 
+report, they have more in them than mortal 
+knowledge. When I burned in desire to ques- 
+tion them further, they made themselves air, 
+into which they vanished. Whiles I stood rapt 
+im the wonder of it, came missives from the 
+king, who all-hailed me “Thane of Cawdor;” 
+by which title, before, these weird sisters 
+saluted me, and referred me to the coming on 
+of time, with “Hail, king that shalt be!” This 
+have I thought good to deliver thee, my dear- 
+est partner of greatness, that thou mightst not 
+lose the dues of rejoicing, by being ignorant 
+of what greatness is promised thee. Lay it 
+to thy heart, and farewell.’ 
+
+Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be 
+
+What thou art promised: yet do I fear thy 
+nature; 
+
+It is too full o’ the milk of human kindness 
+
+To catch the nearest way: thou wouldst be 
+great; 
+
+Art not without ambition, but without 20 
+
+The illness should attend it: what thou 
+wouldst highly 
+
+That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play 
+false, 
+
+And yet wouldst wrongly win: thou ‘Idst have, 
+great Glamis, 
+
+That which cries “Thus thou must do, if thou 
+have it; 
+
+And that which rather thou dost fear to do 
+
+Than wishest should be undone.’ Hie thee 
+hither, 
+
+That I may pour my spirits in thine ear; 
+
+And chastise with the valour of my tongue 
+
+All that impedes thee from the golden round, 
+
+Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem 
+
+To have’ thee crown’d withal. 
+
+
+~ Scene V. Inverness. 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+What is your tidings > 
+Mess. The king comes here to-night. 
+
+
+Lady M. Thou ‘rt mad to say it: 
+Is not thy master with him? who, were 't so, 
+Would have inform’d for preparation. 
+
+Mess. So please you, it is true: our thane 
+
+is coming: 
+One of my fellows had the speed of him, 
+Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely 
+
+
+more 
+Than would make up his message. 
+Lady M. Give him tending; 
+
+
+He brings great news. [Exit Messenger. 
+The raven himself is hoarse 
+That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan 40 
+Under my battlements. Come, you spirits 
+That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, 
+And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full 
+Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood; 
+Stop up the access and passage to remorse, 
+That no compunctious visitings of nature 
+Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between 
+The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts, 
+And take my milk for gall, you murdering 
+ministers, 
+Wherever in your sightless substances 50 
+You wait on nature’s mischief! Come, thick 
+night, 
+And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, 
+That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, 
+Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the 
+dark, 
+To cry ‘Hold, hold!’ 
+
+
+Enter Macsetu. 
+
+
+Great Glamis! worthy Cawdor! 
+Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter! 
+Thy letters have transported me beyond 
+This ignorant present, and I feel now 
+The future in the instant. 
+
+
+Macb. My dearest love, 59 
+Duncan comes here to-night. 
+Lady M. And when goes hence? 
+
+
+Macb. To-morrow, as he purposes. 
+
+Lady M. O, never 
+Shall sun that morrow see! 
+Your face, my thane, is as a book where men 
+May read strange matters. To beguile the time, 
+Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye, 
+Your hand, your tongue: look like the inno- 
+
+cent flower, 
+
+But be the serpent under 't. He that’s coming 
+Must be provided for: and you shall put 
+Th’s night's great business into my dispatch; 
+Which shall to all our nights and days to come 
+Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom. 7] 
+
+Macb. We will speak further. 
+
+Lady M. Only look up clear; 
+To alter favour ever is to fear: 
+
+
+Leave all the rest to me. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+984 
+
+
+MACBETH 
+
+
+Scene VI. Before Macbeth’s castle. 
+
+
+Hautboys and torches. Enter Duncan, Mat- 
+cotm, Donacpain, Banquo, LENNOX, 
+Macpurr, Ross, Ancus, and Attendants. 
+
+
+Dun. This castle hath a pleasant seat; the 
+air 
+Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself 
+Unto our gentle senses. 
+
+Ban. This guest of summer, 
+The temple-haunting martlet, does approve, 
+By his loved mansionry, that the heaven’s 
+
+breath 
+Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze, 
+Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird 
+Hath made his pendent bed and procreant 
+cradle: 
+Where they most breed and haunt I have 
+observed, 
+The air is delicate. 
+
+
+} 
+
+
+Enter Lapy MacsetH. 
+
+
+Dun. See, see, our honour'd hostess! 10 
+
+The love that follows us sometime is our 
+trouble, 
+
+Which still we thank as ‘ove. 
+you 
+
+How you shall bid God ‘ild us for your pains, 
+
+And thank us for your trouble. 
+
+Lady M. All our service 
+
+In every point twice done and then done 
+double ; 
+
+Were poor and s'ngle business to contend. 
+
+Against those honours deep and broad where- 
+with 
+
+Your majesty loads our house: for those of old, 
+
+And the late dignities heap’d up to them, 
+
+We rest your hermits. 
+
+Dun. Where's the thane of Cawdor? 20 
+We coursed him at the heels, and had a purpose 
+To be his purveyor: but he rides well; 
+
+And his great love, sharp as his spur, hath 
+
+
+Herein I| teach 
+
+
+holp him 
+To his home before us. Fair and noble hostess, 
+We are your guest to-night. 
+Lady M. Your servants ever 
+
+
+Have theirs, themselves and what is_ theirs 
+in compt, 
+
+To make their audit at your highness’ pleasure, 
+
+Sull to return your own. 
+
+Dun. Give me your hand; 
+Conduct me to mine host: we love him highly, 
+And shall continue our graces towards him. 30 
+By your leave, hostess. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene VII. Macbeth’s castle. 
+
+
+Hautboys and torches. Enter a Sewer, and 
+divers Servants with dishes and service, 
+
+
+and pass over the stage. 
+BETH. 
+
+
+Mach. If it were done when ‘tis done, 
+then ‘twere well 
+
+It were done quickly: if the assassination 
+Could trammel up the consequence, and catch 
+With his surcease success; that but this blow 
+Might be the be-all and the end-all here, 
+But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, | 
+We ‘ld jump the life to come. 
+
+
+cases ; 
+
+We still have judgement here; that we but 
+teach H 
+
+Bloody instructions, which, being taught, re- 
+turn 
+
+To plague the inventor: this even-handed 
+justice 10 
+
+Commends the ingredients of our poison’d 
+chalice 
+
+
+To our own lips. He's here in double trust; 
+First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, 
+Strong both against the deed; then, as his host, 
+Who should against h’s murderer shut the door, 
+Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this 
+Duncan 4 
+Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been 
+So clear in his great office, that his virtues 
+Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against 
+The deep damnation of his taking-off; 20 
+And pity, like a naked new-born babe, 
+Striding the blast} or heaven's cherubim, horsed 
+Upon the sightless couriers of the air, 
+Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, 
+That tears shall drown the wind. I have no 
+spur és 
+To prick the sides of my intent, but only 
+Vaulting amb tion, which o’erleaps' itself 
+
+
+And falls on the other. 
+Enter Lapy Macsetn. 
+
+
+How now! what news? 
+Lady.M. He has almost supp’d: why have 
+you left the chamber? 
+Macb. Hath he ask’d for me? 
+Lady M. Know you not he has? 30 
+Macb. We will proceed no further in this 
+business : 
+He hath honour’d me of late; and I have bought 
+Golden opinions from all sorts of people, 
+Which would be worn now in their newest 
+gloss, 
+Not cast aside so soon. 
+Lady M. Was the hope drunk 
+Wherein you dress’d yourself? hath it slept 
+since? ° 
+And wakes it now, to look so green and pale 
+At what it did so freely? From this time 
+Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. VII 
+
+
+Then enter Mac- 
+
+
+But in these — 
+
+
+aia ace anita 
+
+
+‘Aer II, Sc. I] 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+\ 
+: 
+
+
+S—..- 
+
+
+ea Sa 
+
+
+MACBETH 
+
+
+985 
+
+
+To be the same in thine own act and valour 40 
+As thou art in desire> Wouldst thou have that 
+Which thou esteem’st the ornament of life, 
+And live a coward in thine own esteem, 
+Letting ‘I dare not’ wait upon ‘] would,’ 
+Like the poor cat i’ the adage? 
+
+Mack. Prithee, peace: 
+I dare do all that may become a man; 
+Who dares do more is none. 
+
+Lady M. What beast wast, then, 
+That made you break this enterprise to me? 
+
+
+When you durst do it, then you were a man; __ 
+
+
+And, to be more than what you were, you 
+would 50 
+
+Be so much more the man. Nor time nor 
+place 
+
+
+*Did then adhere, and yet you would make both: 
+
+
+They have made themselves, and that their 
+fitness now 
+Does unmake you. 
+
+know 
+How tender tis to love the babe that milks me: 
+I would, while it was smiling in my face, 
+Have pluck’d my nipple from his boneless 
+
+
+gums, 
+And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as 
+
+
+I have given suck, and 
+
+
+——you 
+Have done to this. 
+
+Macb. If we should fail? 
+
+Lady M. We fail! 
+
+
+But screw your courage to the sticking-place, 
+And we'll not fail. When Duncan is asleep— 
+Whereto the rather shall his day’s hard journey 
+Soundly invite him—his two chamberlains 
+Will I with wine and wassail so convince 
+That memory, the warder of the brain, 
+Shall be a fume, and the rece pt of reason 
+A limbeck only: when in swinish sleep 
+Their drenched natures lie as in a death, 
+What ‘cannot you and I| perform upon 
+The unguarded Duncan? what not put upon 70 
+His spongy officers, who shall bear the guilt 
+Of our great quell? 
+
+Mach. Bring forth men-children only; 
+
+
+For thy undaunted-mettlé should compose 
+
+
+Nothing but males. Will it not be received, 
+When we have mark’d with blood those sleepy 
+
+
+two . 
+Of his own chamber and used their very 
+daggers, 
+That they have done ’t? 
+Lady M. Who dares receive it other, 
+
+
+As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar 
+Upon his death > 
+ach, I am settled, and bend up 
+Each corporal agent to this terrible feat. 80 
+Away, and mock the time with fairest show: 
+False face must hide what the false heart 
+doth know. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT Il. 
+
+
+Scene I. Court of Macbeth’s casile, 
+
+
+Enter Banquo, and FLEANcE bearing a torch 
+before him. 
+Ban. How goes the night, boy? 
+Fle, The moon is down; I have not heard 
+the clock, 
+Ban, And she goes down at twelve. 
+Fle. I take 't, ‘tis later, sir. 
+Ban. Hold, take my sword. There's hus- 
+bandry in heaven; 
+Their candles are all out. Take thee that too. 
+A heavy summons lies like lead upon me, 
+And yet I would not sleep: merciful powers, 
+Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature 
+Gives way to in repose! 
+
+
+Enter Macsetu, and a Servant with a torch. 
+
+
+Give me my sword, 
+
+Who's there? 
+
+Mach. A friend, 
+
+Ban. What, sir, not yet at rest? 
+
+king’s a-bed: 
+
+He hath been in unusual pleasure, and 
+Sent forth great largess to your offices. 
+This diamond he greets your wife withal, 
+By the name of most kind hostess; and shut up 
+In measureless content. 
+
+Mach. Being unprepared, 
+Our will became the servant to defect; 
+Which else should free have wrought. 
+
+Ban. All’s well. 
+I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters: 
+To you they have show'd some truth. 
+
+Macb. I think not of them: 
+Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve, 
+We would spend it in some words upon that 
+
+business, 
+
+
+The 
+
+
+If you would grant the time. 
+
+
+an. At your kind’st leisure. 
+Macb. If you shall cleave to my consent, 
+when '’tis, 
+It shall make honour for you. 
+Ban. So I lose none 
+In seeking to augment it, but still keep 
+My bosom franchised and allegiance clear, 
+I shall be counsell’d. 
+Mach. Good repose the while! 
+Ban. Thanks, sir: the like to you! 30 
+[Exeunt Banquo and Fleance. 
+Macb. Go bid thy mistress, when my drink 
+is ready, 
+She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed. 
+[Exit Servant. 
+Is this a dagger which I see before me, 
+The handle toward my hand? Come, let me 
+clutch thee. 
+I have thee not, and yet I see thee still, 
+
+
+986 
+
+
+Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible 
+
+To feeling as to sight? or art thou but 
+
+A dagger of the mind, a false creation, 
+
+Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? 
+
+I see thee yet, in form as palpable 40 
+
+As this which now I draw. 
+
+Thou marshall’st me the way that I was going; 
+
+And such an instrument I was to use. 
+
+Mine eyes are made the fools o’ the other 
+senses, 
+
+Or else worth all the rest; I see thee still, 
+
+And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood, 
+
+Which was not so before. There’s no such 
+thing: 
+
+It is the bloody business which informs 
+
+Thus to mine eyes. Now o’er the one half- 
+world 
+
+Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse 
+
+The curtain’d sleep; withcraft celebrates 51 
+
+Pale Hecate’s offerings, and wither'd murder, 
+
+Alarum’d by his sentinel, the wolf, 
+
+Whose howl’s his watch, thus with his stealthy 
+pace, 
+
+With Tarquin’s ravishing strides, towards his 
+design 
+
+Moves like a ghost. 
+earth, 
+
+Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for 
+fear 
+
+Thy very stones prate of my whereabout, 
+
+And take the present horror from the time, 
+
+Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he 
+lives: 60 
+
+Words to the heat of deeds toc cold breath 
+gives. [A bell rings. 
+
+I go, and it is done; the bell invites me. 
+
+Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell 
+
+That summons viee to heaven or to hell. [Exit. 
+
+
+Thou sure and firm-set 
+
+
+Scene Il. The same. 
+
+
+Enter Lapy MacsetH. 
+
+
+Lady M. That which hath made them 
+drunk hath made me bold; 
+What hath quench’d them hath given me fre. 
+Hark! Peace! 
+It was the owl that shriek’d, the fatal + -llman, 
+Which gives the stern’st good-night. He is 
+about it: 
+The doors are open; and the surfeited grooms 
+Do mock their charge with snores: I have 
+druge’d their possets, 
+That death and nature do contend about them, 
+Whether they live or die. 
+Mach. [Within] Who's there? what, ho! 
+Lady M. Alack, I am afraid they have 
+awaked, 10 
+And ‘t's not done. 
+deed 
+
+
+The attempt and not the 
+
+
+~ MACBETH 
+
+
+[Acr II, Se. Ii 
+
+
+Confounds us. Hark! 
+ready; 
+He could not miss em. Had he not resembled 
+
+
+My father as he slept, I had done't. 
+Enter MacBETH. 
+
+
+I laid their daggers 
+
+
+My husband! 
+Macb. I have done the deed. Didst thou 
+not hear a noise > 
+Lady M. | heard the owl scream and the 
+crickets cry. 
+Did not you speak? 
+Macb. 
+Lady M. 
+Macb. 
+
+Lady M. Ay. 
+Macb. Hark! 
+Who lies i’ the second chamber? 
+Lady M. 
+
+Mach. This is a sorry sight. 
+[Looking on his hands. 
+Lady M. A foolish thought, to say a 
+sorry sight. 
+Mach. There’s one did laugh in’s sleep, 
+and one cried ‘Murder!’ 
+That they did wake each other: I stood and 
+heard them: 
+But they did say their prayers, and address'd 
+them 
+Again to sleep. 
+Lady M. There are two lodged together. 
+Macb. One cried ‘God bless us!’ and 
+‘Amen’ the other; 
+As they had seen me with these hangman’s 
+hands. 
+Listening their ‘fear, I could not say “Amen,” 
+When they did say “God bless us!’ 
+Lady M. Consider it not so deeply. 30 
+Macb. But wherefore could not I pro- 
+nounce ‘Amen’? 
+I had most need of blessing, and “Amen’ 
+Stuck in my _ throat. 
+Lady M. These deeds must not be though~ 
+After these ways; so, it will make us mad. 
+Macb. Methought I heard a voice cry 
+‘Sleep no more! 
+Macbeth does murder sleep,’ the innocent sleep, 
+Sleep that knits up the ravell’d sleave of care, 
+The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath, 
+Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second 
+
+
+When? 
+ow. 
+As I descended? 
+
+
+course, 
+Chief nourisher in life’s feast— 
+Lady M. What do you mean? 
+
+
+Macb. Still it cried ‘Sleep no more!” to 
+all the house: 4l 
+‘Glamis hath murder’d sleep, and therefore 
+Cawdor 
+Shall sleep no more; Macbeth shall sleep no 
+more.’ 
+
+
+Donalbain. 20 © 
+
+
+Act Il, Se. II] 
+
+
+Lady M. Who was it that thus cried? 
+Why, worthy thane, 
+
+
+“You do unbend your noble strength, to think 
+
+
+So brainsickly of things. Go get some water, 
+And wash this filthy witness from your hand. 
+Why did you bring these daggers from the 
+
+
+place ? 
+They must lie there: go carry them; and 
+smear 
+The sleepy grooms with blood. 
+Macb. I'll go no more: 50 
+
+
+1 am afraid to think what I have done; 
+Look on’t again I dare not. 
+Lady M. Infirm of purpose! 
+Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the 
+dead 
+Are but as pictures: "tis the eye of childhood 
+That fears a painted=dévil: If he do-bleed, 
+I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal; 
+For it must seem their guilt. 
+[Exit. Knocking within. 
+Macb. Whence is that knocking ? 
+How ist with me, when every noise appals 
+me? 
+What hands are here? ha! they pluck out 
+mine eyes. 
+Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood 
+Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will 
+rather 61 
+The multitudinous seas incarnadine, 
+Making the green one red. 
+
+
+Re-enter Lapy Macsetu. 
+
+
+Lady M. My hands are of your colour; 
+but I shame 
+To wear a heart so white. [Knocking within.] 
+I hear a knocking 
+At the south entry: retire we to our chamber: 
+A little water clears us of this deed: 
+How easy is it, then! Your constancy 
+Hath left you unattended. [Knocking within.] 
+Hark! more knocking. 
+Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us, 
+And show us to be watchers. Be not lost 
+So poorly in your thoughts. 
+Mach. To know my deed, ‘twere best not 
+know myself. [Knocking within. 
+Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would 
+thou couldst! [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. The same. 
+Knocking within. Enter a Porter. 
+Porter. Here's a knocking indeed! If a 
+man were porter of hell-gate, he should have 
+old turning the key. [Knocking within.] 
+Knock, knock, knock! Who's there, i’ the 
+name of Beelzebub? Here's a farmer, that 
+hanged himself on the expectation of plenty: 
+come in time; have napkins enow about you; 
+
+
+MACBETH 987 
+
+
+here you ‘ll sweat for 't. 
+Knock, knock! Who's there, in the other 
+devil's name? Faith, here’s an equivocator, 
+that could swear in both the scales against 
+either scale; who committed treason enough 
+for God's sake, yet could not equivocate to 
+heaven: O, come in, equivocator. [Knocking 
+within.] Knock, knock, knock! Who's there? 
+Faith, here's an English tailor come hither, 
+for stealing out of a French hose: come in, 
+tailor; here you may roast your goose. [Knock- 
+ing within.] Knock, knock; never at quiet! 
+What are you? But this place is too cold for 
+hell. I'll devil-porter it no further: I had 
+thought to have let in some of all professions 
+that go the primrose way to the everlasting 
+bonfire. [Knocking within.] Anon, anon! 
+I pray you, remember the porter. 
+
+[Opens the gate. 
+
+Enter Macpurr and LrENNox. 
+
+
+Macd. Was it so late, friend, ere you 
+went to bed, 
+That you do lie so late? 
+
+Port. ‘Faith, sir, we were carousing till 
+the second cock: and drink, sir, is a great 
+provoker of three things. 
+
+Macd, What three things does drink es- 
+pecially provoke? 30 
+
+Port. Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and 
+urine. Lechery, sir, it provokes, and un- 
+provokes; it provokes the desire, but it takes 
+away the performance: therefore, much drink 
+may be said to be an equivocator with lechery: 
+it makes him, and it mars him; it sets him on, 
+and it takes him off; it persuades him, and 
+disheartens him; makes him stand to, and 
+not stand to; in conclusion, equivocates him in 
+a sleep, and, giving him the lie, leaves him. 40 
+
+Macd. | believe drink gave thee the lie 
+last night. 
+
+Port. That it did, sir, i’ the very throat on 
+me: but I requited him for his lie; and, I 
+think, being too strong for him, though he 
+took up my legs sometime, yet I made a shift 
+to cast him. 
+
+Macd, Is thy master stirring > 
+
+
+Enter MacsBeTH. 
+
+
+Our knocking has awaked him; here he comes. 
+Len. Good morrow, noble sir. 
+
+
+[Knocking within.[ 
+
+
+Mach. Good morrow, both. 
+Macd. Is the king stirring, worthy thane? 
+Macb. Not yet. 
+Macd. He did command me to call timely 
+on him: 51 
+I have almost slipp'd the hour. 
+Mach. I'll bring you to him. 
+
+
+Macd. | know this is a joyful trouble ta 
+you; ; 
+
+
+988 
+
+
+MACBETH 
+
+
+{Acr II, Sc. Ill 
+
+
+rr F 
+
+
+But yet ‘tis one. 
+Mach. The labour we delight in physics 
+pain. 
+This is the door. 
+Macd, I ‘ll make so bold to call, 
+For ‘tis my limited service. [Exit. 
+Len. Goes the king hence to-day > 
+Macb. He does: he did appoint so. 
+Len. The night has been unruly: where we 
+lay, 
+Our chimneys were blown down; and, as they 
+say, 
+Lamentings heard i’ the air; strange screams 
+of death, 
+And prophesying with accents terrible 
+Of dire combustion and confused events 
+New hatch’d to the woeful time: the obscure 
+bird 
+
+
+Clamour’d the livelong night: some say, the 
+
+
+earth 
+Was feverous and did shake. 
+Mach. "Twas a rough night. 
+
+
+Len. My young remembrance cannot par- 
+allel 
+A fellow to it. 
+
+
+Re-enter MacpuFrF. 
+
+
+Macd. O horror, horror, horror! Tongue 
+nor heart 
+Cannot conceive nor name thee! 
+Macb. What's the matter? 
+Len, 
+
+
+Macd. Confusion now hath made his mas- 
+terpiece! 
+Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope 
+The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence 
+The life o’ the building! 
+Macb. What ist you say? the life? 
+Len. Mean you his majesty ? 
+Macd. Approach the chamber, and destroy 
+your sight 
+‘With a new Gorgon: do not bid me speak; 
+See, and then speak yourselves. 
+[Exeunt Macbeth and Lennox. 
+Awake, awake! 
+Ring the alarum-bell. Murder and treason! 
+Banquo and Donalbain! Malcolm! awake! 
+Shake off this downy sleep, death’s counter- 
+feit, 
+And look on death itself! up, up, and see 
+The great doom’s image! Malcolm! Banquo! 
+As from your graves rise up, and walk like 
+
+
+sprites, 
+To countenance this horror! Ring the bell. 
+[Bell rings. 
+
+
+Enter Lavy MacseTtu. 
+Lady M. What's the business, 
+That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley 
+The sleepers of the house? speak, speak! 
+
+
+Macd, O gentle lady, 
+’Tis not for you to hear what I can speak: 
+The repetition, in a woman’s ear, 
+
+Would murder as it fell. 
+Enter Banquo. 
+O Banquo, Banquo, 
+Our royal master's murder’d! 
+
+
+Lady M. Woe, alas! 
+What, in our house? 
+Ban. Too cruel any where. 
+
+
+Dear Duff, I prithee, contradict thyself, 
+And say it is not so. 
+
+
+Re-enter MacBETH and LENNOX, with Ross. 
+Macb. Had I but died an hour before this 
+
+
+chance, 
+I had lived a blessed time; for, from this 
+instant, 
+There ’s nothing serious in mortality: 
+All is but toys: renown and grace is dead; 
+The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees 
+Is left this vault to brag of. 101 
+
+
+Enter Matcotm and DONALBAIN. 
+
+
+Don. What is amiss? 
+Mach. You are, and do not know’t: 
+The spring, the head, the fountain of your 
+blood 
+Is stopp’d; the very source of it is stopp’d. 
+Macd. Your royal father’s murdered. 
+Mal. O, by whom? 
+Len. Those of his chamber, as it seem’d, 
+had done't: 
+Their hands and faces were all badged with 
+blood; 
+So were their daggers, which unwiped we 
+found 
+Upon their pillows: 
+
+
+They stared, and were distracted; no man’s | 
+
+
+life 
+Was to be trusted with them. 
+Macb. O, yet I do repent me of my fury, 
+That I did kill them. 
+Macd. Wherefore did you so? 
+Mach. Who can be wise, amazed, tem- 
+perate and furious, 
+Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man: 
+The expedition of my violent love 
+Outrun the pauser, reason. Here lay Duncan, 
+His silver skin laced with his golden blood; 
+And his gash’d stabs look’d like a breach in 
+
+
+110 
+
+
+nature 
+
+For ruin’s wasteful entrance: there, the mur- 
+derers, 120 
+
+Steep’d in the colours of their trade, their 
+daggers 
+
+Unmannerly breech’d with gore: who could 
+refrain, 
+
+
+That had a heart to love, and in that heart 
+
+
+Act II, Sc. IV] 
+
+
+MACBETH 
+
+
+989 
+
+
+eo ——— —— SSS 
+
+
+Courage to makes love known? 
+Lady M. Help me hence, ho! 
+Macd. Look to the lady. 
+Mal. [Aside to Don.] Why do we hold 
+our tongues, 
+That most may claim this argument for ours? 
+Don. [Aside to Mal.] What should be 
+spoken here, where our fate, 
+Hid in an auger-hole, may rush, and seize us? 
+Let’s away; 
+Our tears are not yet brew’d. 
+Mal. [Aside to Don.] Nor our strong sor- 
+row 
+Upon the foot of motion. 
+Ban. Look to the lady: 131 
+[Lady Macbeth is carried out. 
+And when we have our naked frailties hid, 
+That suffer in exposure, let us meet, 
+And question this most bloody piece of work, 
+To know it further. Fears and scruples 
+shake us: 
+_ In the great hand of God I stand; and thence 
+Against the undivulged pretence I fight 
+Of treasonous malice. 
+
+
+Macd. And so do I. 
+All. So all. 
+Macb, Let’s briefly put on manly readi- 
+Ness, 
+And meet i’ the hall together. 
+All. Well contented. 
+
+
+[Exeunt all but Malcolm and Donalbain. 
+Mal. What will you do? Let’s not con- 
+
+
+sort with them: 141 
+To show an unfelt sorrow is an office 
+Which the false man does easy. I'll to 
+
+
+England, 
+~ Don. To Ireland, 1; our separated fortune 
+Shall keep us both the safer: where we are, 
+There ’s daggers in men’s smiles: the near in 
+blood, 
+The nearer bloody. 
+Mal. This murderous shaft that’s shot 
+Hath not yet lighted, and our safest way 
+Is to avoid the aim. Therefore, to horse; 
+And let us not be dainty of leave-taking, 150 
+But shift away: theres warrant in that theft 
+Which steals itself, when there's no mercy 
+
+
+left. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Outside Macbeth’s castle. 
+Enter Ross and an Old Man. 
+Old M. Threescore and ten I can remem- 
+ber well: 
+
+
+Within the volume of which time I have seen 
+Hours dreadful and things strange; but this 
+
+
+sore night 
+Hath trifled former knowings. 
+Ross. Ah, good father, } 
+
+
+Thou seest, the heavens, as troubled with 
+man’s act, 
+Threaten his bloody stage: by the clock, ‘tis 
+
+
+day, 
+And yet dark night strangles the travelling 
+lamp: 
+Is ’t night’s predominance, or the day’s shame, 
+That darkness does the face of earth entomb, 
+When living light should kiss it? 
+
+
+Old M. "Tis unnatural, 10 
+Even like the deed that’s done. On Tuesday 
+last, 
+
+
+A falcon, towering in her pride of place, 
+Was by a mousing owl hawk’'d at and kill'd. 
+Ross. And Duncan's horses—a thing most 
+strange and certain— 
+Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race, 
+Turn’d wild in nature, broke their stalls, 
+
+
+flung out, 
+Contending ‘gainst obedience, as they would 
+make 
+War with mankind. 
+Old M. "Tis said they eat each other. 
+Ross. They did so, to the amazement of 
+mine eyes 
+That look’d upon’t. Here comes the good 
+Macduff. 20 
+
+
+Enter Macpurr. 
+
+
+How goes the world, sir, now? 
+
+Macd. Why, see you not? 
+
+Ross. Is’t known who did this more than 
+
+bloody deed? 
+
+Macd, Those that Macbeth hath slain. 
+
+Ross. Alas, the day! 
+What good could they pretend? 
+
+Macd. They were suborn'd: 
+Malcolm and Donalbain, the king’s two sons, 
+Are stol’n away and fled; which puts upon 
+
+them 
+Suspicion of the deed, 
+
+Ross. "Gainst nature still! 
+Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up 
+Thine own life’s means! Then ‘tis most like 
+The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth. 30 
+
+Macd. He is already named, and gone to 
+
+
+Scone 
+To be invested. 
+Ross. Where is Duncan's body ? 
+
+
+Macd. Carried to Colmekill, 
+The sacred storehouse of his predecessors, 
+And guardian of their bones. 
+Ross. Will you to Scone? 
+Macd. No, cousin, I'll to Fife. 
+Ross. Well, I will thither. 
+Macd. Well, may you see things well done 
+there: adieu! 
+Lest our old robes sit easier than our new! 
+Ross. Farewell, fatber. 
+
+
+990 
+
+
+MACBETH 
+
+
+[Acr HI, Se. 1 
+
+
+Old'M. God's benison go with you; and 
+with those 40 
+That would make good of bad, and friends of 
+foes! [Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT Ul. 
+
+
+Scene |. Forres. The palace. 
+
+
+Enter Banquo, 
+
+
+Ban. Thou hast it now: king, Cawdor, 
+
+Glamis, all, 
+
+As the weird women promised, and, I fear, 
+
+Thou play’dst most foully for 't: yet it was 
+said 
+
+It should not stand in thy posterity, 
+
+But that myself should be the root and father 
+
+Of many kings. If there come truth from 
+them— 
+
+As upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine— 
+
+Why, by the verities on thee made good, 
+
+May they not be my oracles as well, 
+
+And set me up in hope? But hush! no more. 
+
+
+Sennet sounded. Enter Macsetn, as king, 
+Lapy Macsetn, as queen, LENNox, Ross, 
+Lords, Ladies, and Attendants. 
+
+
+Macb. Here's our chief guest. 
+
+Lady M. If he had been forgotten, 
+It had been as a gap in our great feast, 
+A\nd all-thing unbecoming. 
+
+Mach. To-night we hold a solemn supper, 
+
+sir, 
+And I'll request your presence. 
+
+Ban. Let your highness 
+Command upon me; to the which my duties 
+Are with a most indissoluble tie 
+For ever knit. 
+
+Macb. Ride you this afternoon? 
+
+Ban. Ay, my good lord. 20 
+
+Mach. We should have else desired your 
+
+good advice, 
+
+Which still hath been both grave and pros- 
+perous, 
+
+Jn this day's but 
+to-morrow. 
+
+Js"t far you ride? 
+
+Ban. As far, my lord, as will fill up the 
+
+time 
+
+“Twixt this and supper: go not my horse the 
+better, 
+
+I must become a borrower of the night 
+
+Vor a dark hour or twain. 
+
+Mach. Fail not our feast. 
+
+Ban. My lord, I will not. 
+
+Mach. We hear, our bloody cousins are 
+
+bestow'd 
+In England and in Ireland, not confessing 
+‘Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers 
+
+
+council; we'll take 
+
+
+With _ strange 
+to-morrow, 
+When therewithal we shall have cause of state 
+Craving us jointly. Hie you to horse: adieu, 
+Till your return at night. Goes Fleance with 
+
+you? 
+
+Ban. Ay, my good lord: our time does 
+
+call upon’s. 
+
+Macb. | wish your horses swift and sure 
+
+of foot; 
+And so I do commend you to their backs. 
+Farewell. [Exit Banquo. 
+Let every man be master of his time 
+Till seven at night: to make society 
+The sweeter welcome, we will keep ourself 
+Till supper-time alone: while then, God be 
+with you! 
+
+[Exeunt ail but Macbeth, and an attendant. 
+Sirrah; a word with you: attend those men 
+Our pleasure? 
+
+Alten. They are, my lord, without the 
+
+palace gate. 
+
+Macb. Bring them before us. 
+
+[Exit Attendant, 
+To be thus is nothing; 
+But to be safely thus.—Our fears in Banquo 
+Stick deep; and in his royalty of nature 50 
+Reigns that which would be fear’d: ‘tis much 
+he dares; 
+And, to that dauntless temper of his mind, 
+He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour 
+To act in safety. There is none but he 
+Whose being I do fear: and, under him, 
+My Genuus is rebuked; as, it is said, 
+Mark Antony's was by Cesar. He chid the 
+sisters xe 
+When first they put the name of king upon me, 
+And bade them speak to him: then prophet- 
+like 
+They hail’d him father to a line of kings: 60 
+Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown, 
+And put a barren sceptre in my gripe, : 
+Thence to be wrench’d with an unlineal hand, © 
+No son of mine succeeding. 
+For Banquo’s issue have I filed my mind; 
+For them the gracious Duncan have | mur- 
+der'd; 
+Put rancours in the vessel of my peace 
+Only for them; and mine eternal jewel 
+Given to the common enemy of man, 
+To make them kings, the seed of Banquo 
+kings! 70 
+Rather than so, come fate into the list, 
+And champion me to the utterance! Who's 
+there ? 
+
+
+but of that 
+
+
+invention: 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+Re-enter Attendant, with two Murderers. 
+
+
+Now go to the door, and stay there till we 
+call. [Exit Atiendam. 
+
+
+If't be so, = 
+
+
+\ 
+Act Ill, Se, I] 
+
+
+MACBETH 
+
+
+99\ 
+
+
+a eSSsSSSSSSSSSsessesessesesesesese 
+
+
+Was it not yesterday we spoke together? 
+First Mur. It was, so please your highness. 
+Mach, Well then, now 
+
+Have you consider’d of my speeches? Know 
+
+That it was he in the times past which held 
+
+you 
+
+So under fortune, which you thought had been 
+
+Our innocent self: this I made good to you 
+
+In our last conference, pass'd in probation 
+
+with you, 
+
+How you were borne in hand, how cross'd, 
+
+the instruments, 
+
+Who wrought with them, and all things else 
+
+that might 
+
+To half a soul and to a notion crazed 
+
+Say “Thus did Banquo.’ 
+
+First Mur. You made it known to us. 
+
+Macb. I did so, and went further, which 
+
+is now 
+
+Our point of second meeting. Do you find 
+
+Your patience so predominant in your nature 
+
+That you can let this go? Are you so gospell'd 
+
+To pray for this good man and for his issue, 
+
+Whose heavy hand hath bow'd you to the 
+
+grave 
+
+And beggar'd yours for ever? 
+
+First Mur. We are men, my liege. 91 
+
+Macb. Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men; 
+As hounds and greyhounds, mongrels, span- 
+
+iels, curs, 
+
+Shoughs, water-rugs and demi-wolves are clept 
+
+All by the name of dogs: the valued file 
+
+Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle, 
+
+The housekeeper, the hunter, every one 
+
+According to the gift which bounteous nature 
+
+Hath in him closed, whereby he does receive 
+
+Particular addition, from the bill 100 
+
+That writes them all alike: and so of men. 
+
+Now, if you have a station in the file, 
+
+Not i’ the worst rank of manhood, say 't; 
+
+And I will put that business in your bosoms, 
+
+Whose execution takes your enemy off, 
+
+Grapples you to the heart and love of us, 
+
+Who wear our health but sickly in his life, 
+
+Which in his death were perfect. 
+
+Sec. Mur. I am one, my liege, 
+Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world 
+Have so incensed that I am reckless what 110 
+I do to spite the world. : 
+
+First Mur. And I another 
+So weary with disasters, tugg’d with fortune, 
+That I would set my life on any chance, 
+To mend it, or be rid on'‘t. 
+
+
+Macb. Both of you 
+Know Banquo was your enemy. 
+Both Mur. True, my lord. 
+
+
+Macb. So is he mine; and in such bloody 
+distance, 
+That every minute of his being thrusts 
+
+
+Against my near’st of life: and though I could 
+With barefaced power sweep him from my 
+sight 
+And bid my will avouch it, yet I must not, 120 
+For certain friends that are both his and mine. 
+Whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall 
+Who I myself struck down; and thence it is, 
+That I to your assistance do make love, 
+Masking the business from the common eye 
+For sundry weighty reasons. 
+
+
+Sec. Mur. We shall, my lord, 
+Perform what you command us. 
+First Mur. Though our lives— 
+
+
+Macb, Your spirits shine through you. 
+Within this hour at most 
+I will advise you where to plant yourselves; 
+Acquaint you with the perfect spy o” the time, 
+
+
+The moment on’t; for't must be done to- 
+night, 
+
+And something from the palace; always 
+thought 
+
+
+That I require a clearness: and with him— 
+To leave no rubs nor botches in the work— 
+Fleance his son, that keeps him company, 
+Whose absence is no less material to me 
+Than is his father's, must embrace the fate 
+Of that dark hour. Resolve yourselves apart: 
+I'll come to you anon. 
+Both Mur. We are resolved, my lord. 
+Macb. I'll call upon you straight: abide 
+within. [Exeunt Murderers. 140 
+It is concluded. Banquo, thy soul's flight, 
+If it find heaven, must find it out to-night. 
+[ Exit. 
+
+
+Scene Il. The palace. 
+
+
+Enter Lapy MacsetH and a Servant. 
+
+
+Lady M. Is Banquo gone from court? 
+Serv. Ay, madam, but returns again to- 
+night. 
+Lady M. Say to the king, I would attend 
+his leisure 
+For a few words. 
+Serv. Madam, I will. [Exit. 
+Lady M. Nought 's had, all's spent, 
+Where our desire is got without content: 
+"Tis safer to be that which we destroy 
+Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy. 
+
+
+Enter MacsBetu. 
+
+
+How now, my lord! why do you keep alone, 
+
+Of sorriest fancies your companions making, 
+
+Using those thoughts which should indeed 
+have died 16 
+
+With them they think on? Things without 
+all remedy 
+
+Should be without regard: what’s done is 
+done. 
+
+
+992 
+
+
+Mach. We have scotch’d the snake, not 
+kili’d it: 
+She ‘Il close and be herself, whilst our poor 
+malice 
+Remains in danger of her former tooth. 
+But let the frame of things disjoint, both the 
+worlds suffer, 
+Ere we will eat our meal in fear and sleep 
+In the affliction of these terrible dreams 
+That shake us nightly: better be with the 
+dead, 
+Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to 
+peace, 20 
+Than on the torture of the mind to lie 
+Jn restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave; 
+After life’s fitful fever he sleeps well; 
+Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor 
+poison, 
+Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, 
+Can touch him further. 
+Lady M. Come on; 
+Gentle my lord, sleek o’er your rugged looks; 
+Be bright and jovial among your guests ‘to- 
+
+
+night. 
+Mach. So shall I, love; and so, J pray, be 
+you: 
+Let your remembrance apply to Banquo; 30 
+Present him eminence, both with eye and 
+fongue: 
+Uneafe the while, that we 
+Must lave our honours in these flattering 
+streams, 
+And make our faces vizards to our hearts, 
+Disguising what they are. 
+y You must leave this. 
+Macb. O, full of scorpions is my mind, 
+
+
+dear wife! 
+Thou know’st that Banquo, and his Fleance, 
+lives. 
+Lady M. But in them nature’s copy's not 
+eterne. 
+Mach. There’s comfort yet; they are as- 
+sailable; 
+Then be thou jocund: ere the bat hath 
+own 
+His cloister’d flight, ere to black Hecate's 
+summons 4\ 
+
+
+‘The shard-borne beetle with his drowsy hums 
+Yath rung night’s yawning peal, there shall 
+
+
+be done 
+A deed of dreadful note. 
+Lady M. What's to be done? 
+Macb. Be imnocent of the knowledge, 
+dearest chuck, 
+Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling 
+nicht, 
+Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day; 
+And with thy bloody and invisible hand 
+Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond 
+
+
+MACBETH 
+
+
+[Act III, Sc. HI: 
+
+
+Which keeps me pale! 
+the crow 
+
+Makes w.ng to the rooky wood: 
+
+Good things of day begin to droop and 
+drowse; 
+
+Whiles night’s black agents to their preys do 
+rouse, 
+
+Thou rani at my words: 
+still: 
+
+Re bad begun make strong themselves by 
+ill. 
+
+So, prithee, go with me. 
+
+
+Scene Ill. A park near the palace. 
+Enter three Murderers. 
+First Mur. But who did bid thee join with 
+
+
+Light thickens; and 
+50 
+
+
+but hold thee 
+
+
+[Exeunt, 
+
+
+us? 
+Third Mur. Macbeth. 
+Sec. Mur. He needs not our mistrust, since 
+
+
+he delivers 
+Our offices and what we have to do 
+To the d rection just. 
+First Mur. Then stand with us. 
+The west yet glimmers with some streaks of 
+ay: 
+Now spurs the lated traveller apace 
+To gain the timely inn; and near approaches 
+The subject of our watch. 
+Third Mur. Hark! I hear horses. 
+Ban. [Within] Give us a light there, ho! 
+Sec. Mur. Then ‘tis he: the rest 
+That are within the note of expectation 10 
+Already are i’ the court. 
+
+
+First Mur. His horses go about. 
+Third Mur. Almost a mile: but he does ° 
+usually, 
+
+
+So all men do, from hence to the palace gate 
+
+
+Make it their walk. 
+
+
+Sec. Mur. A light, a light! 
+
+Enter BaNquo, and FLEANCE with a torch. 
+Third Mur. ‘Tis he. 
+First Mar. Stand to't. 
+
+Ban. It will be rain to-night. 
+
+
+First Mur. Let it come. down. 
+[They set upon Banquo. 
+Ban. O, treachery!’ Fly, good Fleance, 
+fly, fly, fly! 
+Thou mayst revenge. O slave! 
+ies. Fleance escapes. 
+Third Mur. Who did strike out the light? 
+First Mur. Was 't not the way? 
+Third Mur. There's but one down; the 
+son is fled. 
+Sec. M. 
+Best half ct our affair. 
+First Mur. Well, let's away, and say how 
+much is done. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+We have lest 20 
+
+
+The table round. 
+
+
+ee) Oe 
+
+
+“Aer lysciv] ~ 
+
+
+Scene IV. The same. 
+
+
+A banquet prepared. Enter MacsetuH, Lapy 
+Macsetu, Ross, LENNox, Lords, and At- 
+tendants. 
+
+
+Hall in the palace. 
+
+
+Mach, You know your own degrees; sit 
+down: at first 
+And last the hearty welcome. 
+Lords. Thanks to your majesty. 
+Macb. Ourself will mingle with society, 
+And play the humble host. 
+Our hostess keeps her state, but in best time 
+We will require her welcome. 
+Lady M. Pronounce it for me, sir, to all 
+our friends; 
+For my heart speaks they are welcome. 
+
+
+First Murderer appears at the door. 
+
+
+Mach. See, they encounter thee with their 
+hearts’ thanks. 9 
+Both sides are even: here I "Il sit i’ the midst: 
+Be large in mirth; anon we'll drink a meas- 
+ure 
+[Approaching the door.] 
+There's blood upon thy face. 
+Mur. "Tis Banquo’s then. 
+Mach. "Tis better thee without than he 
+within. 
+Is he dispatch’d? 
+Mur. My lord, his throat is cut; that I 
+did for him. 
+Mach. Thou art the best o’ the cut-throats: 
+yet he’s good 
+That did the like for Fleance: if thou didst it, 
+Thou art the nonpareil. 
+
+Mur. Most royal sir, 
+Fleance is ‘scaped. 20 
+~ Mach. Then comes my fit again: I had 
+
+else been perfect, 
+Whole as the marble, founded as the rock, 
+As broad and general as the casing air: 
+But now I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confined, 
+
+
+bound in 
+To saucy doubts and fears. But Banquo’s 
+safe> 
+Mur. Ay, my good lord: safe in a ditch 
+he bides, 
+
+
+With twenty trenched gashes on his head; 
+The least a death to nature. 
+
+
+Macb. Thanks for that 
+There the grown serpent lies; the worm 
+that's fled 
+
+
+Hath nature that in time will venom breed, 30 
+No teeth for the present. Get thee gone: to- 
+
+
+*morrow 
+We 'll hear, ourselves, again. [Exit Murderer. 
+Lady M. My royal lord, 
+
+
+You do not give the cheer: the feast is sold 
+That is not often vouch’d, while ‘tis a-making, 
+
+
+MACBETH 
+
+
+“Wk. 
+
+
+993 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+'’Tis given with welcome: to feed were best 
+
+
+at home; 
+From thence the sauce to meat is ceremony; 
+Meeting were bare without it. 
+Macb. Sweet remembrancer! 
+Now, good digestion wait on appetite, 
+And health on both! 
+Len. May 't please your highness sit. 
+[The Ghost of Banquo enters, and sits in 
+Macbeth’s place. 
+Macb. Here had we now our country’s 
+honour roof'd, 
+Were the graced person of our Banquo pres- 
+ent; 
+Who may I rather challenge for unkindness 
+Than pity for mischance! 
+
+
+Ross. His absence, sir, 
+Lays blame upon his promise. Please 't your 
+highness 
+
+
+To grace us with your royal company. 
+Mach, The table’s full. 
+Len. Here is a place reserved, sir, 
+Mach. Where? 
+Len. Here, my good lord. What is’t that 
+moves your highness? 
+Macb. Which of you have done this? 
+Lords. What, my good lord? 
+Mach. Thou canst not say I did it: never 
+shake 50 
+Thy gory locks at me. 
+Ross. Gentlemen, rise; his highness is not 
+
+
+well, 
+Lady M. Sit, worthy friends: my lord is 
+often thus, 
+And hath been from his youth: pray you, 
+keep seat; 
+
+
+The fit is momentary; upon a thought 
+
+He will again be well: if much you note him, 
+You shall offend him and extend his passion: 
+Feed, and regard him not. Are you a man? 
+
+
+Mach. Ay, and a bold one, that dare look 
+
+
+on that 
+Which might appal the devil. 
+Lady M. O proper stuff! 60 
+
+
+This is the very painting of your fear: 
+
+This is the air-drawn dagger which, you said, 
+
+Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws and 
+starts, 
+
+Impostors to true fear, would well become 
+
+A woman's story at a winter’s fire, 
+
+Authorized by her grandam. Shame itself! 
+
+Why do you make such faces! When all ’s 
+done, 
+
+You look but on a stool. 
+
+Mach. Prithee, see there! behold! look! 
+
+lo! how say you? 
+
+Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak 
+too. 
+
+If charnel-houses and our graves must send 
+
+
+994 
+
+
+MACBETH 
+
+
+ol 
+
+
+[Act III, Sc. V 
+
+
+Those that we bury back, our monuments 
+Shall be the maws of kites. [Chost vanishes. 
+Lady M. What, quite unmann’d in folly? 
+Macb. If I stand here, I saw him. 
+Lady M. Fie, for shame! 
+Macb. Blood hath been shed ere now, 1 
+the olden time, 
+Ere humane statute purged the gentle weal; 
+Ay, and since too, murders have been per- 
+form'’d 
+Too terrible for the ear: the time has been, 
+That, when the brains were out, the man 
+would die, 
+And there an end; but now they rise again, 
+With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, 
+And push us from our stools: this is more 
+strange 
+Than such a murder is. 
+Lady M. My worthy lord, 
+Your noble friends do lack you. 
+Macb. I do forget. 
+Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends; 
+I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing 
+To those that know me. Come, love and 
+health to all; 
+Then I ‘il sit down. 
+full. 
+I drink to the general joy o’ the whole table, 
+And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we 
+
+
+Give me some wine; fill 
+
+
+miss ; 90 
+Would he were here! to all, and him, we 
+thirst, 
+‘And all to all. 
+Lords. Our duties, and the pledge. 
+
+
+Re-enter Ghost. 
+
+
+Macb. Avaunt! and quit my sight! let the 
+earth hide. thee! 
+Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold; 
+Thou hast no speculation in those eyes 
+Which thou dost glare with! 
+
+Lady M. Thnk of this, good peers, 
+But as a thing of custom: ‘tis no other; 
+Only it spoils the pleasure of the time. 
+
+Macb. What man dare, | dare: 99 
+Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, 
+The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger; 
+Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves 
+Shall never tremble: or be alive again, 
+
+| And dare me to the desert with thy sword; 
+, tIf trembling I inhabit then, protest me 
+' The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow! 
+Unreal mockery, hence! [Ghost vanishes. 
+Why, so: being gone, 
+Tam a man again. Pray you, sit still. 
+Lady M. You have displaced the mirth, 
+broke the good meeting, 
+With most admired disorder. 
+
+
+Mach, Can such things be, 110 
+
+
+And overcome us like a summer's. cloud, 
+Without our special wonder? You make me 
+strange 
+Even to the disposition that I owe, 
+When now I think you can behold such sights, 
+And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks, 
+When mine is blanch’d with fear. 
+Ross. What sights, my lord? 
+Lady M. | pray you, speak not; he grows 
+worse and worse; 
+Question enrages him. At once, good night: 
+Stand not upon the order of your going, 
+But go at once. 
+Len. Good night; and better health /120 
+Attend his majesty! 
+Lady M. A kind good night to all! 
+[Exeunt all but Macbeth and Lady M. 
+Mach. It will have blood; they say, blood 
+will have blood: . 
+Stones have been known to move and trees 
+to speak; 
+Augurs and understood relations have 
+By magot pies and choughs and rooks brought 
+forth 
+The secret’st man of blood. What is the night? 
+Lady M. Almost at odds with morning, 
+which is which. 
+Mach. How say’st thou, that Macduff de- 
+nies his person 
+At our great bidding> 
+Lady M. Did you send to him, sir? 
+Macb. I hear it by the way; but I will 
+send: 
+There's not a one of them but in his house 
+I keep a servant fee’d. I will to-morrow, 
+And betimes I will, to the weird sisters: 
+More shall they speak; for now I am bent to 
+know, 
+By the worst means, the worst. 
+own good, 
+All causes shall give way: I am in blood 
+Stepp'd in so far that, should I wade no more, 
+Returning were as tedious as go o'er: 
+Strange things I have in head, that will to 
+hand; 
+Which must be acted ere they may be scann'd. 
+Lady M. You lack the season of all na- 
+tures, sleep. 14] 
+Mach. Come, we'll to sleep. My strange 
+and self-abuse 
+Is the initiate fear that wants hard use: 
+
+
+We are yet but young in deed. [Exeunt.) 
+Scene V. A Heath. 
+
+
+Thunder. Enter the three Witches, 
+meeting HEcaTE. 
+
+
+First Witch. Why. how now, Hecate! you 
+look angerly. 
+
+
+For mine 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. 1) 
+
+
+Hec. Have I not reason, beldams as you 
+are, 
+Saucy and overbold? How did you dare 
+To trade and traffic with Macbeth 
+In riddles and affairs of death; 
+And I, the mistress of your charms, 
+The close contriver of all harms, 
+Was never call’d to bear my part, 
+Or show the glory of our art? 
+And, which is worse, all you have done 
+Hath been but for, a wayward son, 
+Spiteful and wrathful, who, as others do, 
+Loves for his own ends, not for you. 
+But make amends now: get you gone, 
+And at the pit of Acheron 
+Meet me i’ the morning: thither he 
+Will come to know his destiny: 
+Your vessels and your spells provide, 
+Your charms and every thing beside. 
+I am for the air; this night I'll spend 
+Unto a dismal and a fatal end: 
+Great business must be wrought ere noon: 
+_Upon the corner of the moon 
+There hangs a vaporous drop profound; 
+[ ‘ll catch it ere it come to ground: 
+And that distill’d by magic sleights 
+Shall raise such artificial sprites 
+_ As by the strength of their illusion 
+Shall draw him on to his confusion: 
+He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear 30 
+His hopes ‘bove wisdom, grace and fear: 
+And you all know, security 
+Is mortals’ chiefest enemy. 
+[Music and a song within: 
+come away,’ 
+Hark! I am call’d; my little spirit, see, 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+‘Come away, 
+&e. 
+
+
+Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays forme. [Exit. 
+First Witch. Come, let's make haste; 
+she "Il soon be back again. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene VI. 
+Enter LENNOX and another Lord. 
+
+
+Forres. The palace. 
+
+
+Len. My former speeches have but hit 
+
+your thoughts, 
+
+Which can interpret further: only, I say, 
+
+Things have been strangely borne. 
+gracious Duncan 
+
+Was pitied of Macbeth: marry, he was dead: 
+
+And the right-valiant Banquo walk'd too late; 
+
+Whom, you may say, if 't please you, Fleance 
+kill’d, 
+
+For Fleance fled: men must not walk too late. 
+
+Who cannot want the thought how monstrous 
+
+!t was, for Malcolm and for Donalbain 
+
+To kill their gracious father? damned fact! 10 
+
+How it did grieve Macbeth! did he not 
+straight 
+
+{n pious rage the two delinquents tear, 
+
+
+The 
+
+
+MACBETH 
+
+
+™995 
+
+
+That were the slaves of drink and thralls of 
+sleep? 
+
+Was not that nobly done? 
+too; 
+
+For ‘twould have anger’d any heart alive 
+
+To hear the men deny 't. So that, I say, 
+
+He has borne all things well: and I do think 
+
+That had he Duncan's sons under his key— 
+
+As, an’t please heaven, he shall not—they 
+should find 
+
+What ‘twere to kill a father; 
+
+
+Fleance. 
+
+
+Ay, and wisely 
+
+
+so should 
+
+
+_| But, peace! for from broad words and ‘cause 
+
+
+he fail’d 
+His presence at the tyrant’s feast, I hear 
+Macduff lives in disgrace: sir, can you tell 
+Where he bestows himself? 
+
+Lord. The son of Duncan, 
+From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth, 
+Lives in the English court, and is received 
+Of the most pious Edward with such grace 
+That the malevolence of fortune nothing 
+Takes from his high respect: thither Macduff 
+Is gone to pray the holy king, upon his aid 30 
+To wake Northumberland and warlike Si- 
+
+ward: 
+That by the help of these—with Him above 
+To ratify the work—we may ‘again 
+Give to our tables meat, sleep to our nights, 
+Free from our feasts and banquets bloody 
+knives, 
+Do faithful homage and receive free honours: 
+All which we pine for now: and this report 
+Hath so exasperated the king that he 
+Prepares for some attempt of war. 
+Len Sent he to Macduff > 
+Tord: He did: and with an absolute ‘Sir, 
+not I,’ 40 
+The cloudy messenger turns me his back, 
+And hums, as who should say ‘You'll rue the 
+time 
+That clogs me with this answer.’ 
+
+Len. And that well might 
+
+Advise him to a caution, to hold what dis- 
+tance 
+
+His wisdom can provide. Some holy angel 
+
+Fly to the court of England and unfold 
+
+His message ere he come, that a swift blessing 
+
+May soon return to this our suffering country 
+
+Under a hand accursed! 
+
+
+21 
+
+
+Lord, I ‘ll send my prayers with him. 
+[Exeunt. 
+ACT, IVs 
+Scene I. A cavern. In the middle, a boiling 
+cauldron. 
+Thunder. Enter the three Witches. 
+
+
+First Witch. Thrice the brinded cat hath 
+
+
+mew’d. 
+
+
+996 
+
+
+MACBETH 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc. I 
+
+
+Sec. Witch. Thrice and once the hedge- 
+
+
+Mach. How now, you secret, black, and 
+midnight hags! 
+
+
+All. A deed without a name. 
+Macb. | conjure you, by that which you 
+
+
+pig whined. 
+
+Third Witch. Harpier cries "Tis time, | What ist you do? 
+‘tis time. 
+
+First Witch. Round about the cauldron 
+203 
+
+
+In the poison’d entrails throw. 
++Toad, that under cold stone 
+Days and nights has thirty one 
+Swelter’d venom sleeping got, 
+Boil thou first i’ the charmed pot. 
+All. Double, double toil and trouble; 10 
+Fire burn, and cauldron bubble. 
+Sec. Witch. Fillet of a fenny snake, 
+In the cauldron boil and bake; 
+Eye of newt and toe of frog, 
+Wool of bat and tongue of dog, 
+Adder's fork and blind-worm’s sting, 
+Lizard’s leg and howlet’s wing, 
+For a charm of powerful trouble, 
+Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. 
+All. Double, double toil and trouble; 20 
+Fire burn, and cauldron bubble. 
+Third Witch. Scale of dragon, tooth of 
+wolf, 
+Witches’ mummy, maw and gulf 
+Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark, 
+Root of hentlock digg’d i’ the dark, 
+Liver of blaspheming Jew, 
+Gall of goat, and slips of yew 
+Silver’d in the moon's eclipse, 
+Nose-of—Furk and Tartar’s lips, 
+Finger of birth-strangled babe 
+».Ditch-deliver’d by a drab, 
+Make the gruel thick and slab: 
+Add thereto a tiger’s chaudron, 
+For the ingredients of our cauldron. 
+All. Double, double toil and trouble; 
+Fire burn, and cauldron bubble. 
+Sec. Witch.. Cool it with a baboon’s 
+blood, 
+Then the charm is firm and good. 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+Enter Hecate to the other three Witches. 
+
+
+Hec. O, well done! I commend your 
+pains; 
+And every one shall share i’ the gains: 40 
+And now about the cauldron sing, 
+Like elves and fairies in a ring, 
+Enchanting all that you put in. 
+[Music and a song: ‘Black spirits,’ &c. 
+[Hecate retires. 
+Sec. Witch. By the pricking of my 
+thumbs, 
+Something wicked this way comes. 
+Open, locks, 
+
+
+Whoever knocks! 
+Enter Macsetu. 
+
+
+profess, 50 
+
+Howe’er you come to know it, answer me: 
+
+Though you untie the winds and let them fight 
+
+Against the churches; though the yesty waves 
+
+Confound and swallow navigation up; 
+
+Though bladed corn be dodged and trees 
+blown down; 
+
+Though castles topple on their warders’ heads; 
+
+Though palaces and pyramids do slope 
+
+Their heads to their foundations; though the. 
+treasure 
+
+Of nature’s germens tumble all together, 
+
+Even till destruction sicken; answer me 
+
+To what I ask you. 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+First Witch. Speak. 
+Sec. Witch. Demand. 
+Third Witch. We'll answer. 
+
+
+First Witch. Say, if thou’dst rather hear it 
+from our mouths, 
+Or from our masters? 
+Macb. Call "em; let me see ‘em. 
+First Witch, Pour in sow’s blood, that 
+hath eaten 
+Her nine farrow; grease that’s sweaten 
+From the murderer's gibbet throw, 
+Into the flame. 
+All, Come, high or low; 
+Thyself and office deftly show! 
+
+
+Thunder. First Apparition: an armed Head. 
+
+
+Macb. Tell me, thou unknown power,— 
+First Witch. He knows thy thought: 
+Hear his speech, but say thou nought. 70 
+First App. Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! 
+beware Macduff; 
+Beware the thane of Fife. Dismiss me. 
+Enough. [Descends. 
+Mach, Whate’er thou art, for thy good 
+caution, thanks; 
+Thou hast harp’d my fear aright: but one 
+word more,— 
+First Witch. He will not be commanded: 
+here’s another, 
+More potent than the first. 
+
+
+Thunder. Second Apparition ya bloody Child. 
+
+
+e 
+
+
+food 
+
+
+Bb) 
+
+
+» 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+Sec. App. Macbeth! Macbeth? Macbeth! 
+Mach. Had J three ears, I Id hear thee. 
+Sec. App. Be bloody, bold, and resolute ; 
+laugh to scorn 
+The power of man, for none of woman born 
+Shall harm Macbeth. [Descends. 
+Macb. Then live, Macduff: what need | 
+
+
+fear of thee? 
+
+
+‘Act IV, Sc. II] Pe 
+
+
+MACBETH 
+
+
+be - \ego7 
+
+
+— satay 
+
+
+But yet I'll make assurance double sure, 
+And take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live; 
+That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies, 
+And sleep in spite of thunder. 
+
+
+Thunder. — Third Apparition: a Child 
+
+
+crowned, _with a tree in his hand. 
+
+
+hak What is iKis. 
+That rises like the issue of a king, 
+And wears upon his baby-brow the round 
+And” top of sovere gnly>? 
+SCAG. ~ Listen, but speak not tot. 
+Third App. Be lion-mettled, proud; and 
+take no care 90 
+Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers 
+are: 
+Macbeth shall never vanquish’d be until 
+Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill 
+Shall come against him. [Descends. 
+Macb, That will never be: 
+Who can impress the forest, bid the tree 
+Unfix his earth-bound root? Sweet bode- 
+ments! good! 
+‘Rebellion’s head, rise never tll the wood 
+Of Birnam rise, and our high-placed Macbeth 
+Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath 
+To time and mortal custom. Yet my heart 
+Throbs to know one thing: tell me, if your art 
+Can tell so much: shall Banquo’s issue ever 
+Reign in this kingdom? 
+All, Seek to know no more. 
+
+
+Macb. | will be satisfied: deny me this, 
+
+
+And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me 
+know. 
+
+Why snks that cauldron? and what noise is 
+this? [Hautboys. 
+
+
+First Witch. Show! 
+
+Sec. Witch. Show! 
+
+Third Witch. Show! 
+
+All. Show his eyes, and grieve his heart; 
+Come like shadows, so depart! W1 
+
+
+_A show of Eight Kings, the last with a glass 
+in his hand; Banquo’s Ghost following. 
+
+
+Macb. Thou art too like the spirit of Ban- 
+
+quo; down! 
+
+Thy crown doth sear mine eye-balls. And 
+thy hair, 
+
+Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first. 
+
+A third is like the former. Filthy hags! ~ 
+
+Why do you show me this? A fourth! Start, 
+eyes! 
+
+What, will the line ones out to the crack of 
+doom ? 
+
+Another yet! A seventh! I'll see no more: 
+
+And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass 
+
+Which shows me many more; and some | see 
+
+That two-fold balls and treble sceptres carry: 
+
+Horrible sight! Now, I see, ‘tis true; 
+
+
+‘That trace him in his line. 
+
+
+For the blood-bolter’d Banquo smiles upon 
+me, 
+And points at them for his. 
+vanish.| What, is this so? 
+First Witch. Ay, sir, all this is so: 
+why 
+Stands Macbeth thus amazedly > 
+Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprites, 
+And show the best of our delights: 
+I'll charm the air to give a sound, 
+While you perform your antic round; 
+That this great king may kindly say, 
+Our duties did his welcome pay. 
+[Music. The Witches dance, and then 
+vanish, with Hecate. 
+Macb. Where are they? Gone! Let this 
+pernicious hour 
+Stand aye accursed in the calendar! 
+Come in, without there! 
+
+
+[Apparitions. 
+but 
+
+
+130 
+
+
+Enter LENNOX. 
+
+
+Len. What's your grace’s will? 
+Macb. Saw you the weird sisters? 
+Len. No, my lord. 
+Mach. Came they not by you? 
+Len. No, indeed, my lord. 
+Macb. Infected be the air whereon they 
+ride; 
+And damnid all those that trust them! I did 
+hear 
+The galloping of horse: who was 't came by? 
+
+
+Len. “Tis two or three, my lord, that bring 
+you word 141 
+Macduff is fled to England. 
+Macb. Fled to England! 
+
+
+Len. Ay, my good lord. 
+Mach. Time, thou anticipatest my dread 
+exploits : 
+The flighty purpose never is o'ertook 
+Unless the deed go with it: from this moment 
+The very firstlings of my heart shall be 
+The firstlings of my hand. And even now, 
+To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought 
+and done: 
+The castle of Macduff I will surprise; 150 
+Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o’ the sword 
+His wife, his babes. and all unfortunate souls 
+No boasting like 
+a fool: 
+This deed I'll do before this purpose cool. 
+But no more sights! Where are these gentle- 
+
+
+men? 
+Come, bring me where they are. [Exeunt. 
+Scene II. Fife. Macduff’s castle. 
+
+
+Enter Lavy Macourr, her Son, and Ross. 
+L.Macd. What had he done, to make him 
+fly the land? 
+
+
+Ross. You must have patience, madam. 
+
+
+998 MACBETH 
+L. Macd, He had none: 
+His flight was madness: when our actions do 
+not, 
+Our fears do make us traitors. 
+Ross. You know not 
+
+
+Whether it was his wisdom or his fear. 
+L. Macd. Wisdom! to leave his wife, to 
+leave his babes, 
+His mansion and his titles in a place 
+From whence himself does fly> He loves us 
+not; 
+He wants the natural touch: for the poor wren, 
+The most diminutive of birds, will fight, 10 
+Her young ones in her nest, against the owl, 
+All is the fear and nothing is the love; 
+As little is the wisdom, where the fl:ght 
+So runs against all reason. 
+Ross. My dearest coz, 
+I pray you, school yourself: but for your 
+husband, 
+He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows 
+The fits o’ the season. I dare not speak much 
+further ; 
+But cruel are the times, when we are traitors 
+And do not know ourselves, when we hold 
+rumour 
+From what we fear, yet know not what we 
+fear, 
+But float upon a wild and violent sea 21 
+Each way and move. I take my leave of you: 
+Shall not be long but I ‘ll be here again: 
+Things at the worst will cease, or else climb 
+upward 
+To what they were before. My pretty cousin, 
+Blessing upon you! 
+L.Macd. Father'd he is, and yet he’s 
+fatherless. 
+Ross. 1 am so much a fool, should I stay 
+longer, 
+It would be my d'sgrace and your discomfort: 
+I take my leave at once. [Exit. 
+L.Macd. Sirrah, your father’s dead: 30 
+And what will you do now? How will you 
+live? 
+Son. As birds do, mother. 
+L. Macd. What, with worms and flies? 
+Son. With what I get. I mean; and so do 
+they. 
+L.Macd. Poor bird! thou ‘Idst never fear 
+the net nor lime, 
+The pitfall nor the gin. 
+Son. Why should I, mother? 
+they are not set for. 
+My father is not dead, for all your saying. 
+L. Macd. Yes, he is dead: how wilt thou 
+do for a father? 
+Son. Nay, how will you do for a husband ? 
+L.Macd. Why, I can buy me twenty at 
+any market. 
+
+
+Poor birds 
+
+
+i 7 
+[Act IV, Sc. I~ 
+
+
+=. 
+
+
+Son. Then you'll buy ‘em to sell again. 
+L.Macd. Thou speak’st with all thy wit; 
+and yet, i’ faith, 
+With wit enough for thee. 
+
+Son. Was my father a traitor, mother? 
+
+L.Macd, Ay, that he was. 
+
+Son. What is a traitor? 
+
+L. Macd. Why, one that swears and lies. 
+
+Son. And be all traitors that do so? 
+
+L. Macd. Every one that does so is a 
+traitor, and must be hanged. 56 
+
+Son. And must they all be hanged that 
+swear and lie? 
+
+L. Macd. Every one. 
+
+Son. Who must hang them? 
+
+L.Macd. Why, the honest men. 
+
+Son. Then the liars and swearers are fools, 
+for there are liars and swearers enow to beat 
+the honest men and hang up them, 
+
+L. Macd. Now, God help thee, poor 
+monkey! But how wilt thou do for a father? 
+
+Son. If he were dead, you'ld weep for 
+him: if you would not, it were a good sign 
+that I should quickly have a new father. 
+
+L. Macd. Poor prattler, how thou talk’st! 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+Mess. Bless you, fair dame! I am not to 
+you known, 
+
+Though in your state of honour I am perfect. 
+I doubt some danger does approach you nearly: 
+If you w Il take a homely man’s advice, 
+
+Be not found here; hence, with your little ones. 
+To fright you thus, methinks, I am too savage; 
+To do worse to you were fell cruelty, 71 
+Which is too nigh your person. Heaven pre- 
+
+
+serve you! 
+I dare abide né longer. [ Exit. 
+L. Macd. Whither should I fly? 
+
+
+I have done no harm. But I remember now 
+I am in this earthly world; where to do harm 
+Is often laudable, to do good sometime 
+Accounted dangerous folly: why then, alas, 
+Do | put up that womanly defence, 
+To say I have done no harm? 
+Enter Murderers. 
+What are these faces? 
+First Mur. Where is your husband? 80 
+L.Macd. IThope, inno place so unsanctified 
+Where such as thou mayst find him. 
+First Mur. He's a traitor. 
+Son. Thou liest, thou shag-hair’d villain! 
+First Mur. What, you egg! 
+
+
+[Stabbing him. 
+
+Young fry of treachery! 
+Son. He has kill’d me, mother: 
+Run away, I pray you! [Dies. 
+[Exit Lady Macduff, crying ‘Murder!" 
+
+
+Exeunt Murderers, following her. - 
+
+
+~ Was once thought honest: 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc, III] 
+
+
+MACBETH 
+
+
+We 
+
+
+99% 
+
+
+Scene III. England. Before the King’s 
+
+
+palace, 
+Enter Matcotm and Macpurr. 
+
+
+Mal. Let us seek out some desolate shade, 
+and there 
+Weep our sad bosoms empty. 
+
+
+Macd. Let us rather 
+Hold fast the mortal sword, and like good men 
+
+
+Bestride our downfall’n birthdom: each new 
+morn 
+
+New widows howl, new orphans cry, new 
+sorrows - We era 
+
+
+Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds 
+As if it felt with Scotland and yell'’d out 
+Like syllable of dolour. 
+Mal. What I believe I ‘Il wail, 
+What know believe, and what I can redress, 
+s I shall find the time to friend, I will. 10 
+What you have spoke, it may be so perchance. 
+This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our 
+tongues, 
+you have loved 
+him well; 
+He hath not touch’d you yet. 
+but something 
+You may deserve of him through me, and 
+w'sdom 
+To offer up a weak poor innocent lamb 
+To appease an angry god. 
+Macd. | am not treacherous. 
+Mal. But Macbeth is. 
+A good and virtuous nature may recoil 
+In an imperial charge. But I shall crave 
+
+
+I am young; 
+
+
+your pardon; 20 
+That which you are my thoughts cannot 
+transpose: 
+
+
+Angels are bright still, though the brightest 
+fell: 
+
+
+Though all things foul would wear the brows 
+
+
+of grace, 
+Yet grace must still look so. 
+Macd. I have lost my hopes. 
+Mal. Perchance even there where I did 
+
+
+find my doubts. 
+
+Why in that rawness left you wife and child, 
+
+Those precious motives, those strong knots 
+of love, 
+
+Without leave-taking? I pray you, 
+
+Let not my jealousies be your dishonours, 
+
+But mine own safeties. You may be rightly 
+just, 30 
+
+SVhitever I shall think. 
+
+Macd. Bleed, bleed, poor country! 
+
+Great tyranny! lay thon thy basis sure, 
+
+For goodness dare not check thee: wear thou 
+thy wrongs; 
+
+
+The title is affeer'd! Fare thee well, lord: 
+
+
+I would not be the villain that thou think’st 
+
+For the whole space that’s in the tyrant’y 
+grasp, 
+
+And the rich East to boot. 
+
+Mal. Be not offended: 
+
+I speak not as in absolute fear of you. 
+
+I think our country sinks beneath the yoke; 
+
+It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash 
+Is added to her wounds: I think withal 
+There would be hands uplifted in my right; 
+And here from gracious Eng!and have | offer 
+Of goodly thousands: but, for all this, 
+When I shall tread upon the tyrant’s head, 
+Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country 
+Shall have more vices than it had before, 
+More suffer and more sundry ways than ever, 
+By him that shall succeed. 
+
+Macd. What should he be? 
+
+Mal. It is myself I mean: in whom I know 
+All the particulars of vice so grafted 51 
+That, when they shall be open’d, black Mac- 
+
+beth 
+Will seem as pure as snow, and the poor state 
+Esteem him as ‘a lamb, being compared 
+With my confineless harms. 
+
+Macd, Not in the legions 
+Of horrid hell can come a devil more dam’d 
+In evils to top Macbeth. 
+
+Mal. I grant him bloody, 
+Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful, 
+Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin 
+That has a name: but there 's no bottom, none, 
+In my voluptuousness: your wives, your 
+
+daughters, 6l 
+Your matrons and your maids, could not fill up 
+The cistern of my lust, and my desire 
+All continent impediments would o’erbear 
+That did oppose my will: better Macbeth 
+Than such an one to reign. 
+
+Macd. Boundless intemperance 
+In nature is a tyranny; it hath been 
+The untimely empty ng of the happy throne 
+And fall of many kings. But fear not yet 
+To take upon you what is yours: you may 70 
+Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty, 
+And yet seem cold, the time you may so 
+
+
+hoodwink. 
+We have willing dames enough; there cannot 
+be 
+
+
+That vulture in you, to devour so many 
+As will to greatness dedicate themselves, 
+Finding it so inclined. 
+
+Mal. With this there grows 
+In my most ill-composed affection such 
+A stanchless avarice that, were I king, 
+I should cut off the nobles for their lands, 
+Desire his jewels and this other's house: 80 
+And my more-having would be as a sauce 
+
+
+| To make me hunger more; that I should forge 
+
+
+1000 
+
+
+MACBETH 
+
+
+} 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. 1 
+
+
+Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal, 
+Destroying them for wealth. 
+
+Macd. This avarice 
+Sticks deeper, grows with more pernicious root 
+Than summer-seeming lust, and it hath been 
+The sword of our slain kings: yet do not tear; 
+Scotland hath foisons to fill up your will, 
+Of your mere own: all these are portable, 
+With other graces weigh’d. 
+
+Mal. But | have none: the king-becoming 
+
+graces, 
+As justice, verity, temperance, stableness, 
+Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness, 
+Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude, 
+I have no relish of them but abound 
+In the division of each several crime, 
+Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I 
+should 
+Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, 
+Uproar the universal peace, confound 
+All unity on earth. 
+
+Macd. O Scotland, Scotland! 100 
+
+Mal. If such a one be fit to govern, speak: 
+I am as | have spoken. 
+
+Macd. Fit to govern! 
+
+No, not to live. O nation miserable, 
+
+With an untitled tyrant bloody-scepter’d, 
+
+When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again, 
+
+Since that the truest issue of thy throne 
+
+By his own interdiction stands accursed, 
+
+And does blaspheme his breed? Thy royal 
+father 
+
+Was a most sainted king: the queen that bore 
+thee, 
+
+Oftener upon her knees than on her feet, 110 
+
+Died every day she lived. Fare thee well! 
+
+These evils thou repeat’st upon thyself 
+
+Have banish’d me from Scotland. O my breast, 
+
+Thy hope ends here! 
+
+Mal. Macduff, this noble passion, 
+Child of integrity, hath from my soul 
+Wiped the black scruples, reconc led my 
+
+thoughts 
+To thy good truth and honour. Devilish 
+Macbeth 
+By many of these trains hath sought to win me 
+Into his power, and modest wisdom plucks me 
+From over-credulous haste: but God above 
+Deal between thee and me! for even now 
+I put myself to thy direction, and 
+Unspeak mine own detraction, here abjure 
+The taints and b’ames I laid upon myself, 
+For strangers to my nature. I am yet 
+Unknown to woman, never was forsworn, 
+Scarcely have coveted what was mine own, 
+At no time broke my faith, would not betray 
+The devil to his fellow and delight 
+
+
+Was this upon myself: what I am truly, 
+
+Is thine and my poor country’s to command: 
+
+Whither indeed, before thy here-approach, 
+
+Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men, 
+
+Already at a point, was setting forth. 
+
+Now we'll together; and the chance of good- 
+ness 
+
+Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are 
+you silent? 
+
+Macd. Such welcome and unwelcome things 
+
+at once 
+
+"Tis hard to reconcile. 
+
+
+Enter a Doctor. 
+Mal. Well; more anon.—Comes the king 
+
+
+forth, I pray you? 140 
+Doct. Ay; sir; there are a crew of wretched 
+souls 
+
+
+That stay his cure: their malady convinces 
+The great assay of art; but at his touch— 
+Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand— 
+They presently amend, 
+Mal. I thank you, doctor. [Exit Doctor. 
+Macd. What's the disease he means? 
+Mal. *Tis call’d the evil: 
+A most miraculous work in this good king; 
+Wh ch often, since my here-remain in England, 
+] have seen him do. How he solicits heaven, 
+Himself best knows: but strangely-visited 
+people, 150 
+All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye, 
+The mere despair of surgery, he cures, 
+Hanging a golden stamp about their necks, 
+Put on with holy prayers: and ‘tis spoken, 
+To the succeeding royalty he leaves 
+The healing benediction. With this strange 
+virtue, . 
+He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy, 
+And sundry blessings hang about his throne, 
+That speak him full of grace. 
+
+
+Enter Ross. \ 
+
+
+Macd. See, who comes here? 
+Mal. My countryman; but yet I know him 
+not. 160 
+Macd. My ever-gentle cousin, welcome 
+hither. 
+Mal. I know him now. Good God, be- 
+times remove 
+The means that makes us strangers! 
+Ross. Sir, amen. 
+Macd, Stands Scotland where it did? 
+Ross. Alas, poor country! 
+Almost afraid to know itself. It cannot 
+Be call’'d our mother, but our grave; where 
+nothing, 
+But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile: 
+
+
+No less in truth than life: my first false | Where sighs and groans and shrieks that rend 
+
+
+speaking 130 
+
+
+the air 
+
+
+x. 
+
+
+Tae: | ove * 
+
+
+Acr IY, Sc. III] 
+
+
+MACBETH 
+
+
+“1001 
+
+
+TT  — 
+
+
+Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow 
+seems 
+
+A modern ecstasy: the dead man’s knell 170 
+
+Is there scarce ask’d for who; and good 
+men’s lives 
+
+Expire before the flowers in their caps, 
+
+Dying or ere they sicken. 
+
+Macd. O, relation 
+
+
+Too nice, and yet too true! 
+
+
+Mal. What's the newest grief? 
+
+Ross. That of an hour's age doth hiss the 
+speaker: 
+
+Each minute teems a new one. 
+
+Macd, How does my wife? 
+
+Ross. Why, well. 
+
+Macd. And all my children? 
+
+Ross. Well too. 
+
+Macd. The tyrant has not batter’d at their 
+peace > 
+
+
+Ross. No; they were well at peace when 
+I did leave ’em. 
+Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech: 
+how goes ’t? 180 
+Ross. When I came hither to transport the 
+tidings, 
+Which I have heavily 
+rumour 
+Of many worthy fellows that were out: 
+Which was to my belief witness'd the rather, 
+For that I saw the tyrant’s power a-foot: 
+Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland 
+Would create soldiers, make our women fight, 
+To doff their dire distresses. 
+
+Mal. © Be’t their comfort 
+We are coming thither: gracious England hath 
+Lent us good Siward and ten thousand men; 
+An older and a better soldier none 19] 
+That Christendom gives out. 
+
+Ross. Would I could answer 
+This comfort with the like! But I have words 
+That would be howl’d out in the desert air, 
+Where hearing should not latch them. 
+
+Macd. What concern they? 
+The general cause? or is it a fee-grief 
+Due to some single breast? 
+
+
+Danae! there ran a 
+
+
+Ross. No m‘nd that’s honest 
+But in it shares some woe; though the main 
+part 
+Pertains to you alone. 
+acd. If it be mine, 
+
+
+Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it. 
+~ Ross. Let not your ears despise my tongue 
+
+
+for ever, 
+Which shall possess them with the heaviest 
+sound 
+That ever yet they heard. 
+Macd. Hum! I guess at it. 
+
+
+~ Ross. Your castle is surprised; your wife 
+
+
+and babes 
+
+
+Savagely slaughter’d: to relate the manner, 
+Were, on the quarry of these murder’d deer, 
+To add the death of you. 
+Mal. Merciful heaven! 
+What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your 
+brows; 
+Give sorrow words: the grief that does not 
+speak 
+Whispers the o’er-fraught heart and bids it 
+break. 210 
+Macd, My children too? 
+Ross. Wife, children, servants, all 
+That could be found. 
+
+
+Macd, And I must be from thence! 
+My wife kill’d too? 
+
+Ross. I have said. 
+
+Mal. Be comforted: 
+
+
+Let’s make us medicines of our great re- 
+venge, 
+To cure this deadly grief. 
+Macd. He has no children. All my pretty 
+ones ? 
+Did you say all? ©O hell-kite! All? 
+What, all my pretty chickens and their dam 
+At one fell swoop? 
+Mal. Dispute it like a man. 
+Macd. I shall do so; 220 
+But I must also feel it as a man: 
+I cannot but remember such things were, 
+That were most precious to me. Did heaven 
+look on, 
+ani 4 not take their part? Sinful Mac- 
+uff, 
+They were all struck for thee! naught that I 
+am, 
+Not for their own demerits, but for mine, 
+Fell slaughter on their souls. Heaven rest 
+them now! 
+Mal. Be this the whetstone of your sword: 
+let grief 
+Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it. 
+Macd. O, | could play the woman with 
+
+
+mine eyes 230 
+And braggart with my. tongue! But, gentle 
+heavens, 
+
+
+Cut short all intermission; front to front 
+Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself; 
+Within my sword’s length set him; if he 
+
+
+"scape, 
+Heaven forgive him too! 
+Mal. This tune goes manly, 
+
+
+Come, go we to the king; our power is 
+ready; 
+
+Our lack is nothing but our leave: Macbeth 
+
+Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above 
+
+Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer 
+
+
+you may: 
+The night is long that never finds the day. 240 
+(Exeunt, 
+
+
+MACBETH 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. II 
+
+
+ACT V. 
+
+
+Dunsinane. 
+castle. 
+
+
+Enter a Doctor of Physic and a Waiting- 
+Gentlewoman. 
+
+
+Scene I. Ante-room in the 
+
+
+Doct. I have two nights watched with you, 
+but can perceive no truth in your report. 
+When was it she last walked? 
+
+Gent. Since his majesty went into the field, 
+I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her 
+nightgown upon her, unlock her closet, take 
+forth paper, fold it, write upon't, read it, 
+afterwards seal it, and again return to bed; 
+yet all this while in a most fast sleep. y 
+
+Doct, A great perturbation in nature, to 
+receive at once the benefit of sleep, and do 
+the effects of watching! In this slumbery 
+agitation, besides her walking and other actual 
+serformances, what, at any time, have you 
+heard her say? 
+
+Gent. That, sir, which I will not report 
+after her. 
+
+Doct. You may to me: and ‘tis most meet 
+you should. 
+
+Gent. Neither to you nor any one; having 
+no witness to confirm my speech. 21 
+
+
+Enter Lavy Macsetu, with a taper. 
+
+
+Lo you, here she comes! This is her very 
+guise; and, upon my life, fast asleep. Ob- 
+serve her; stand close. 
+
+Doct. How came she by that light> 
+
+Gent. Why, it stood by her; she has light 
+by her continually; ‘tis her command. 
+
+Doct. You see, her eyes are open. 
+
+Gent. Ay, but their sense is shut. 
+
+Doct. What is it she does now? 
+how she rubs her hands. 
+
+Gent. It is an accustomed action with her, 
+to seem thus washing her hands: I have known 
+her continue in this a quarter of an hour. 
+
+Lady M. Yet here's a spot. 
+
+Doct. Hark! she speaks: I will set down 
+what comes from her, to satisfy my remem- 
+brance the more strongly. 
+
+Lady M. Out, damned spot! out, I say!— 
+One: two: why, then ‘tis time to do ‘t—Hell 
+is murky!—Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and 
+afeard>? What need we fear who knows it, 
+when none can call our power to account?>— 
+Yet who would have thought the old man to 
+have had so much blood in him. 
+
+_\\ Doct. Do you mark that? 
+\, Lady M. The thane of Fife had a wife: 
+
+
+Look, 
+31 
+
+
+yy” where is she now ?—What, will these hands 
+
+
+ne’er be clean?—No more o’ that, my lord, 
+no more o’ that: you mar all with this starting. 
+
+
+Doct. Go to, go to; you have known what 
+you should not. 
+
+Gent. She has spoke what she should not, 
+I am sure of that: heaven knows what she has 
+known. 
+
+Lady M. Here’s the smell of the blood 
+still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not 
+sweeten this little hand. Oh, oh, oh! , 
+
+Doct. What a sigh is there! The heart 
+is sorely charged. 60 
+
+Gent. I would not have such a heart in my 
+bosom for the dignity of the whole body. 
+
+Doct. Well, well, well,— 
+
+Gent. Pray God it be, sir. 
+
+Doct. This disease is beyond my practice: 
+yet I have known those which have walked in 
+their sleep who have died holily in their beds. 
+
+Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your 
+nightgown; look not so pale.-~I tell you yet 
+again, Banquo's buried; he cannot come out 
+on 's grave. 71 
+
+Doct. Even so? 
+
+Lady M. To bed, to bed! there's knock- 
+ing at the gate: come, come, come, come, give 
+me your hand. What's done cannot be un- 
+done.—To bed, to bed, to bed! [Exit 
+
+Doct. Will she go now to bed? 
+
+Gent. Directly. 
+
+Doct. Foul whisperings are abroad: un- 
+
+natural deeds 
+Do breed unnatural troubles: infected minds 
+To their deaf pillows will discharge their 
+
+secrets: J 
+More needs she the divine than the physician. 
+God, God forgive us all! Look after her; 
+Remove from her the means of all annoyance, 
+And still: keep eygs upon her. So, good night: 
+My mind she has mated, and amazed my sight. 
+I think, but dare not speak. 
+
+
+Gent. Good night, good doctor. 
+[Exeunt, 
+Scene II. The country near Dunsinane. 
+
+
+Drum and colours. Enter MENTEITH, CaITH- 
+NEss, ANnGus, LENNOX, and Soldiers. 
+
+
+Ment. The Engl’sh power is near, led on 
+by Malcolm, 
+His uncle Siward and the good Macduff: 
+Revenges burn in them; for their dear causes 
+Would to the bleeding and the grim alarm 
+Excite the mortified man. 
+Ang. Near Birnam wood 
+Shall we well meet them; that way are they 
+coming. 
+Caith. Who knows if Donalbain be with 
+his brother ? 
+Len. For certain, sir, he is not: I have 
+a file 
+Of all the gentry: there is Siward’s son, 
+
+
+aa 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. Hl] 
+
+
+° 
+And many unrough youths that even now. 10 
+Protest their first of manhood. 
+
+Ment. What does the tyrant? 
+
+Caith. Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies: 
+Some say he’s mad: others that lesser hate 
+
+him 
+Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain 
+He cannot buckle his distemper’d cause 
+Within the belt of rule. 
+
+Ang. Now does he feel 
+His secret murders sticking on his hands; 
+Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach; 
+Those he commands move only in command, 
+Nothing in love: now does he feel his title 20 
+Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe 
+Upon a dwarfish thief. 
+
+Meni. Who then shall blame 
+His pester’d senses to recoil and start, 
+
+When all that is within him does condemn 
+Itself for being there? 
+Caith. Well, march we on, 
+To give obedience where ‘tis truly owed: 
+Meet we the medicine of the sickly weal, 
+And with him pour we in our country’s purge 
+Each drop of us. 
+we cen! Or so much as it needs, 
+To dew the sovereign flower and drown the 
+weeds. 30 
+Make we our march towards B’rnam. 
+[Exeunt, marching. 
+
+
+Scene III. Dunsinane. A room in the 
+castle. 
+
+
+Enter MacsetuH, Doctor, and Attendants. 
+
+
+Macb. Bring me no more reports; let them 
+> fly all: 7 
+Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane, 
+I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy 
+Malcolm? 
+Was he not born of woman? 
+that know 
+All mortal consequences have pronounced me 
+thus: 
+‘Fear not, Macbeth; no man that’s born of 
+
+
+woman 
+Then fly, 
+
+
+The spirits 
+
+
+Shall e’er have power upon thee.’ 
+false thanes, 
+
+And mingle with the English epicures: 
+
+The mind I sway by and the heart I bear 
+
+Shall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear. 
+
+
+Enter a Servant. 
+
+
+The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced 
+loon! 
+Where got’st thou that goose look? 
+Serv. There is ten thousand— 
+
+
+MACBETH 
+
+
+1603 
+Mach. Geese, villain > 
+Serv. Soldiers, sir. 
+
+
+Macb. Go, prick thy face, and over-red 
+thy fear, 
+Thou lily-liver’d boy. What soldiers, patch? 
+Death of thy soul! those linen cheeks of thine 
+Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey- 
+face? 
+Serv. The English force, so please you. 
+Mach, Take thy face hence. [Exit Servant. 
+Seyton!—I am sick at heart, 
+When I behold—Seyton, I say!—This push 
+Will cheer me ever, or disseat me now. 
+I have lived long enough: my way of life 
+Is fall’n into the sear, the yellow leaf; 
+And: that which should accompany old age, 
+As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, 
+I must not look to have; but, in their stead, 
+Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, 
+breath, 
+Which the poor heart would fain deny, and 
+dare not. 
+Seyton!- 
+
+
+Enter SEYTON. 
+
+
+Sey. What is your gracious pleasure? 
+
+Mach. What news more? 30 
+
+Sey. All is confirm'’d, my lord, which was 
+reported, 
+
+Mach. I'll fight till from my bones my 
+flesh be hack'd. 
+
+
+Give me my armour. 
+
+Sey. ‘Tis not needed yet. 
+
+Macb. I'll put it on. 
+
+Send out moe horses; skirr the country round; 
+
+Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine 
+armour. 
+
+How does your patient, doctor? 
+
+Doct. Not so sick, my lord, 
+As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies, 
+That keep her from her rest. 
+
+Macb. Cure her of that. 
+Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, 40 
+Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, 
+Raze out the written troubles of the brain 
+And with some sweet oblivious antidote 
+Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff 
+Which weighs upon the heart? 
+
+Doct. Therein the patient 
+Must minister to himself. é 
+
+Macb. Throw physic to the dogs; I'll 
+
+none of it. 
+Come, put mine armour on; give me my staff. 
+Seyton, send out. Doctor, the thanes fly 
+
+
+from me. 
+Come, sir, dispatch. If thou couldst, doctor, 
+cast 
+
+
+| The water of my land, find her disease, 
+
+
+1004 
+
+
+And purge it to a sound and pristine health, 
+I would applaud thee to the very echo, 
+That should applaud again—Pull't off, I 
+say.— 
+What rhubarb, senna, or what purgative drug, 
+Would scour these English hence? Hear’st 
+thou of them? 
+Doct. Ay, my good lord; your royal 
+preparation 
+Makes us hear something. 
+Macb. Bring it after me. 
+1 will not be afraid of death and bane, 
+Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane. 60 
+Doct. [Aside] Were I from Dunsinane 
+away and clear, 
+Profit again should hardly draw me here, 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Country near Birnam wood. 
+
+
+Drum and colours. Enter Matcoim, old 
+Srwarp and his Son, Macpurr, MEN- 
+TEITH, CaITHNEss, ANcus, LENNOX, 
+Ross, and Soldiers, marching. 
+
+
+Mal. Cousins, I hope the days are near 
+at hand 
+That chambers will be safe. 
+Ment. We doubt it nothing. 
+Siw. What wood is this before us? 
+
+
+Ment. The wood of Birnam. 
+
+Mal. Let every soldier hew him down a 
+bough 
+
+And bear't before him: thereby shall we 
+shadow 
+
+
+The numbers of our host and make discovery 
+Err in report of us. 
+Soldiers. It shall be done. 
+Siw. We learn no other but the confident 
+tyrant 
+Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure 
+Our setting down before 't. 
+
+Mal. ‘Tis his main hope: 10 
+For where there is advantage to be given, 
+Both more and less have given him the revolt, 
+And none serve with him but constrained 
+
+
+things 
+Whose hearts are absent too. 
+Macd. Let our just censures 
+
+
+Attend the true event, and put we on 
+Industrious soldiersh p. 
+
+Sin. The time approaches 
+That will with due decision make us know 
+What we shall say we have and what we owe. 
+Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes re- 
+
+late, 
+- But certain issue strokes must arbitrate: 20 
+Towards which advance the war. 
+[Exeunt, marching. 
+
+
+- MACBETH 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. V_ 
+
+
+e 
+Scene V. Dunsinane. Within the casile. 
+
+
+Enter MacsBetH, SEYTON, and Soldiers, with — 
+
+
+drum and colours. 
+
+
+Mach. Hang out our banners on the out- 
+ward walls; 
+The cry is still “They come:’ our castle’s 
+strength : 
+Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie 
+Till famine and the ague eat them up: 
+Were they not forced with those that should 
+be ours, 
+We might have met them dareful, beard to 
+beard, 
+And beat them backward home. 
+[A cry of women within. 
+‘What is that noise? 
+Sey. It is the cry of women, my good 
+
+
+lord. [Exit. 
+Macb. | have almost forgot the taste of 
+fears: 
+The time has been, my senses would have 
+cool’d } 10 
+
+
+To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair 
+
+Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir 
+
+As life were in't: I have supp’d full with 
+horrors ; 
+
+Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, 
+
+Cannot once start me. 
+
+
+Re-enter SEYTON. 
+
+
+Wherefore was that cry? 
+
+Sey. The queen, my lord, is dead. 
+
+Macb. She should have died hereafter; 
+There would have been a time for such a word. 
+To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, 
+Creeps in this petty pace from day to day 20 
+To the last syllable of recorded time, 
+
+And all our yesterdays have lighted fools 
+The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candlef 
+Life ’s but a walking shadow, a poor player 
+That struts and frets his hour upon the stage 
+And then is heard no more: it is a tale 
+Told by ‘an idiot, full of sound and fury, 
+Signifying nothing. 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story 
+quickly. 
+Mess. Gracious my lord, 30 
+I should report that which I say I saw, 
+But know rot how to do it. 
+Macb. Well, say, sir. 
+eit As I did stand my watch upon the 
+A, 
+I look’d toward Birnam, and anon, methought, 
+The wood began to move. 
+
+
+Macb. Liar and slavel 
+
+
+. 
+
+
+i ee 
+
+
+| 
+| 
+
+
+Acr V, Sc. VIII] 
+
+
+MACBETH 
+
+
+‘., 
+1005 
+
+
+_ Mess. Let me endure your wrath, if ’t be | Than any is in hell. 
+
+
+not so: 
+‘Within this three mile may you see it coming; 
+I say, a moving grove. 
+
+Macb. If thou speak’st false, 
+Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive, 
+Till famine cling thee: if thy speech be sooth, 
+I care not if thou dost for me as much. 4] 
+I pull in resolution, and begin 
+To doubt the equivocation of the fiend 
+That lies like truth: ‘Fear not, till Birnam 
+
+wood 
+Do come to Dunsinane:’ and now a wood 
+Comes toward Dunsinane. Arm, arm, and out! 
+If this which he avouches does appear, 
+There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here. 
+I ‘gin to be aweary of the sun, 
+And w-sh the estate o’ the world were now 
+
+undone. 50 
+Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, 
+
+wrack! 
+
+
+\ At least we ‘ll die with harness on our back, 
+
+
+2 [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene VI. Before the castle. 
+
+
+Drum and colours. Enter Matcoim, old 
+Srwarp, Macourr, and their Army, with 
+boughs. 
+
+Mal. Now near enough: your leavy screens 
+throw down, 
+
+And show like those you are. 
+
+uncle, 
+
+Shall, with my cousin, your right-noble son, 
+
+Lead our first battle: worthy Macduff and we 
+
+Shall take upon 's what else remains to do, 
+
+According to our order. 
+
+Siw. . Fare you well. 
+
+Do we but find the tyrant’s power to-night, 
+
+Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight. 
+
+Macd. Make all our trumpets speak; give 
+them all breath, 9 
+Those clamorous harbingers of blood and 
+
+
+death. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+“Scene VII. Another part of the feld. 
+
+
+Alarums. Enter Macsetu. 
+Macb. They have tied me to a stake; | 
+
+
+cannot fly, : 
+But, bear-like, I must fight the course. What ’s 
+he 
+‘That was not born of woman? Such a one 
+Am I to fear, or none. 
+
+
+Dunsinane. 
+
+
+You, worthy 
+
+
+_. Enter young Stwarp. 
+
+
+Yo. Siw. What is thy name? 
+Macb. Thou ‘It be afraid to hear it. 
+Yo. Siw. No; though thou call’st thyself 
+
+
+a hotter name 
+
+
+Macb. My name's Macbeth, 
+Yo, Siw. The devil himself could not 
+pronounce a title 
+More hateful to mine ear. 
+Macb. No, nor more fearful. 
+Yo. Siw. Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with 
+my sword 10 
+I'll prove the lie thou speak’st. 
+[They fight and young Siward is slain, 
+
+
+ach, Thou wast born of woman. 
+
+
+| But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn, 
+
+
+Brandish'd by man that’s of a woman born. 
+
+
+[ Exit. 
+
+
+Alarums. Enter Macpurr. 
+
+
+Muacd. That way the noise is. 
+show thy face! 
+If thou be’st slain and with no stroke of mine, 
+
+
+Tyrant, 
+
+
+| My wife and children’s ghosts will haunt me 
+
+
+}I  sheathe 
+
+
+still. 
+I cannot strike at wretched kerns, whose arms 
+Are hired to bear their staves: either thou, 
+Macbeth, 
+Or else my sword with an unbatter’d edge 
+again undeeded. There thou 
+shouldst be; 20 
+
+
+By this great clatter, one of the greatest note 
+
+
+| Seems bruited. Let me find him, fortune! 
+
+
+And more I beg not. [Exit. 
+Enter Matcoim and old Stwarp. . 
+
+
+Alarums, 
+
+
+Siw. This way, my lord; the castle’s 
+gently render’d: 
+
+The tyrant’s people on both sides do fight; 
+
+The noble thanes do bravely in the war, 
+
+The day almost itself professes yours, 
+
+
+And little is to do. 
+
+
+Mal. We have met with foes 
+That strike beside us. 
+Sin, Enter, sir, the castle. 29 
+
+
+[Exeunt. Alarums. 
+
+
+Scene VIII. Another part of the feld, 
+Enter Macsetu. 
+
+
+Mach. Why should I play the Roman 
+fool, and die 
+On mne own sword? whiles I see lives, the 
+gashes 
+Do better upon them. 
+
+
+Enter Macourr. 
+
+
+Macd. Turn, hell-hound, turn! 
+Macb. Of all men else I have avoided 
+thee: 
+
+
+But get thee back; my soul is too much charged 
+With blood of thine already. 
+
+
+Macd. I have no words: 
+
+
+(006 
+
+
+MACBETH 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. VII 
+
+
+My voice is in my sword: thou bloodier villain 
+
+Than terms can give thee out! [They fight. 
+ach, Thou losest labour: 
+
+As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air 
+
+With thy keen sword impress as make me 
+bleed: 10 
+
+Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests; 
+
+I bear a charmed life, which must not yield 
+
+To one of woman born. 
+
+Macd, Despair thy charm; 
+And let the angel whom thou still hast served 
+Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother’s womb 
+Untimely ripp'd. 
+
+Mach. Accursed be that tongue that tells 
+
+me so, 
+For it hath cow'd my better part of man! 
+And be these juggling fiends no more believed, 
+That palter with us in a double sense; 20 
+That keep the word of promise to our ear, 
+And break it to our hope. Ill not fight with 
+thee. 
+
+Macd. Then yield thee, coward, 
+
+And live to be the show and gaze o’ the time: 
+We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are, 
+Painted upon a pole, and underwrit, 
+
+‘Here may you see the tyrant.’ 
+
+Mach. I will not yield, 
+
+To rt the ground before young Malcolm’s 
+eet, 
+
+And to be baited with the rabble’s curse. 29 
+
+Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane, 
+
+And thou opposed, being of no woman born, 
+
+Yet ' will try the last. Before my body 
+
+I throw my warlike shield. Lay on, Macduff, 
+
+And damn‘d be him that first cries ‘Hold, 
+enough!’ [Exeunt, fighting. Alarums. 
+
+
+Retreat. Flourish. Enter, with drum and 
+colours, Matcoim, old Siwarp, Ross, the 
+other Thanes, and Soldiers. 
+
+
+Mal. I would the friends we miss were 
+safe arrived, 
+Siw. Some must go off: and yet, by these 
+see, 
+So great a day as this is cheaply bought. 
+Mal. Macduff is missing, and your noble 
+son 
+
+
+Rasst Your son, my lord, has paid a sol- 
+dier’s debt: 
+
+
+He only lived but till he was a man; 40 
+The which no sooner had h's prowess confirm'’d 
+In the unshrinking station where he fought, 
+But like a man he died, 
+Sin. Then he is dead? 
+Ross. Ay, and brought off the field: your 
+cause of sorrow 
+Must not be measured by his worth, for then 
+It hath no end. 
+
+
+Sin. Had he his hurts before? 
+Ross, Ay, on the front. 
+Siw Why then, God's soldier be he! 
+
+
+Had I as many sons as I have hairs, 
+I would not wish them to a fairer death: 
+And so, his knell is knoll’d. 
+
+Mal. He's worth more sorrow, 50 
+And that I'll spend for him. 
+
+Sin, He’s worth no more: 
+They say he parted well, and paid his score; f 
+And so, God be with him! Here comes newer 
+
+comfort. 
+
+
+Re-enter Macpurr, with MacsBetu’s head. 
+
+
+Macd. Hail, king! for so thou art: be- 
+hold, where stands 
+The usurper’s cursed head: the time is free: 
+I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom’s pearl, 
+That speak my salutation in their minds; 
+Whose voices I des re aloud with mine: 
+Hail, King of Scotland! 
+All. Hail, King of Scotland! [Flourish. 
+Mal. We shall not spend a large expense 
+of time 60 
+Before we reckon with your several loves, 
+And make us even with you. My thanes and 
+kinsmen, 
+Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland 
+In such an honour named. What's more to do, 
+Which would be planted newly with the time, 
+As calling home our exiled friends abroad 
+That fled the snares of watchful tyranny; 
+Producing forth the cruel ministers 
+Of th’s dead butcher and his fiend-like queen, 
+Who, as ‘tis thought, by self and violent hands 
+Took off her life; this, and what needful else 
+That calls upon us, by the grace of Grace, 
+We will perform in measure, time and place: 
+So, thanks to all at once and to each one, 
+Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone. 
+
+
+[Flourish. Exeunt, 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+PRINCE OF 
+
+
+DENMARK 
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAE 
+
+
+Craupius, king of Denmark. 
+
+HaMLET, son to the late, and nephew to 
+the present king. 
+
+Potonius, lord chamberlain. 
+
+Horatio, friend to Hamlet. 
+
+LAERTES, son to Polonius. 
+
+VOLTIMAND, } 
+
+CoRNELIUS, 
+
+ROSENCRANTZ, 
+
+GUILDENSTERN, 
+
+Osric, 
+
+A Gentleman, 
+
+A Priest. 
+
+MARCELLUS, 
+
+BERNARDO, 
+
+
+| 
++ courtiers. 
+| 
+J 
+
+
+t officers. 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+Elsinore. A platform before the 
+
+
+castle. 
+
+
+Francisco at his post. 
+BERNARDO, 
+
+
+Ber. Who's there? 
+Fran. Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold 
+yourself, 
+Ber. Long live the king! 
+Fran. Bernardo? 
+Ber. He. 
+Fran. You come most carefully upon your 
+hour. 
+Ber. *Tis now struck twelve; get thee to 
+bed, Francisco. 
+Fran. For this relief much thanks: 
+bitter cold, 
+And I am sick at heart. 
+Ber. Have you had quiet guard? 
+Fran. Not a mouse stirring. 
+Ber. Well, good night. 
+{f you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, 
+The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste. 
+Fran. 1 think I hear them. Stand, ho! 
+Who's there? 
+
+
+Enter Horatio and Marce.tus. 
+
+
+Scene I. 
+
+
+Enter to him 
+
+
+"tis 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+Hor. Friends to this ground. 
+Mar. And liegemen to the Dane. 
+Fran. Give you good night. 
+Mar. O, farewell, honest soldier: 
+
+
+FRANCISCO, a soldier. 
+REYNALDO, servant to Polonius, 
+Players. 
+
+Two Clowns, grave-diggers, 
+FortINBRAS, prince of Norway. 
+
+
+A Captain. 
+English Ambassadors. 
+GERTRUDE, queen of Denmark, and 
+mother to Hamlet. 
+OPHELIA, daughter to Polonius. 
+Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Sailors, 
+
+
+Messengers, and other Attendants. 
+Ghost of Hamlet's Father. 
+
+
+ScENE: Denmark. 
+
+
+Who hath relieved you? 
+
+
+Fran. Bernardo has my place. 
+Give you good night. (Exit. 
+Mar. Holla! Bernardo! 
+Ber, Say, 
+What, is Horatio there? 
+Hor. A piece of him. 
+Ber. Welcome, Horatio: welcome, good 
+Marcellus. 
+Mar. What, has this thing appear’d again 
+to-night? 
+
+
+Ber. 1 have seen nothing. 
+
+Mar. Horatio says ‘tis but our fantasy, 
+And will not let belief take hold of him 
+Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us: 
+Therefore I have entreated him along 
+With us to watch the minutes of this night; 
+That if again this apparition come, 
+
+He may approve our eyes and speak to it. 
+Hor. Tush, tush, ‘twill not appear. 
+Ber. Sit down awhile; 
+
+And let us once again assail your ears, 
+
+That are so fortified against our story 
+
+What we have two nights seen. 
+
+Hor. Well, sit we down, 
+And let us hear Bernardo speak of this. 
+
+Ber. Last night of all, 
+
+When yond same star that’s westward from 
+
+the pole 
+
+Had made his course to illume that part of 
+
+heaven 
+
+Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself, 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+1007 
+
+
+1008 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+The bell then beating one,— 
+Enter Ghost. 
+
+
+Mar. Peace, break thee off; look, where it 
+comes again! 40 
+
+Ber. In the same figure, like the king that’s 
+dead. 
+
+Thou art a scholar; speak to it, 
+Horatio. 
+
+Ber. Looks it not like the king? mark it, 
+Horatio. 
+
+Hor. Most like: it harrows me with fear 
+and wonder. 
+
+Ber. It would be spoke to. 
+
+Mar. Question it, Horatio. 
+
+What art thou that usurp’st this time 
+
+of night, 
+
+Together with that fair and warlike form 
+
+In which the majesty of buried Denmark 
+
+Did sometimes march? by heaven | charge 
+
+
+thee, speak! 
+Mar. It is offended. 
+
+
+Ber. See, it stalks away! 50 
+Hor. Stay! speak, speak! I charge thee, 
+speak! [Exit Ghost. 
+
+
+Mar. "Tis gone, and will not answer. 
+Ber. How now, Horatio! you tremble and 
+look pale: 
+Is not this something more than fantasy ? 
+What think you on ‘t? 
+Hor. Before my God, I might not this 
+believe 
+Without the sensible and true avouch 
+Of mine own eyes. 
+Mar. Is it not like the king? 
+Hor. As thou art to thyself: 
+Such was the very armour he had on 
+When he the ambitious Norway combated; 
+So frown’d he once, when, in an angry parle, 
+He smote the sledded Polacks on the ice. 
+‘Tis strange. 
+Mar. Thus twice before, and jump at this 
+dead hour, 
+With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch, 
+Hor. In what particular thought to work | 
+know not: 
+But in the gross and scope of my opinion, 
+This bodes some strange eruption to our state. 
+Mar. Good now, sit down, and tell me, he 
+that knows, 70 
+Why this same strict and most observant 
+watch 
+So nightly toils the subject of the land, 
+And why such daily cast of brazen cannon, 
+And foreign mart for implements of war; 
+Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore 
+task 
+Does not divide the Sunday from the week; 
+What might be toward, that this sweaty haste 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+Doth make the night joint-labourer with the 
+day: 
+Who is’t that can inform me? 
+Hor, That can I; 
+At least, the whisper goes so. Our last king, 
+Whose image even but now appear’d to us, 
+Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway, 
+Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride, 
+Dared to the combat; in which our valiant 
+Hamlet— 
+
+For so this side of our known world esteem'd 
+him— 
+
+Did slay this Fortinbras; who, by a seal’d 
+compact, 
+
+Well ratified by law and heraldry, 
+
+Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands 
+
+Which he stood seized of, to the conqueror: 
+
+Against the which, a moiety competent 90 
+
+Was gaged by our king; which had return’d 
+
+To the inheritance of Fortinbras, 
+
+Had he been vanquisher; as, by the same 
+covenant, 
+
+And carriage of the article design’d, 
+
+His fell to Hamlet. Now, sir, young For- 
+unbras, 
+
+Of unimproved mettle hot and full, 
+
+Hath in the skirts of Norway here and there 
+
+Shark’d up a list of lawless resolutes, 
+
+For food and diet, to some enterprise 
+
+That hath a stomach in’t; which 
+other— 
+
+As it doth well appear unto our state— 
+
+But to recover of us, by strong hand 
+
+And terms compulsatory, those foresaid lands 
+
+So by his father lost: and this, I take it, 
+
+Is the main motive of our preparations, 
+
+The source of this our watch and the chief 
+head 
+
+Of this post-haste and romage in the land. 
+
+Ber. I think it be no other but e’en so: 
+Well may it sort that this portentous figure 
+Comes armed through our watch; so like the 
+
+king 110 
+That was and is the question of these wars. 
+Hor. A mote it is to trouble the mind's 
+eye. 
+In the most high and palmy state of Rome, 
+A. little ere the mightiest Julius fell, 
+The graves stood tenantless and the sheeted 
+dead 
+Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets: 
+As stars with trains of fire and dews of 
+blood, 
+Disasters in the sun; and the moist star 
+Upon whose influence Neptune’s empire stands 
+Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse: 120 
+And even the like precurse of fierce events, 
+As harbingers preceding still the fates 
+And prologue to the omen coming on. 
+
+
+is no 
+
+
+101 
+
+
+[Acr, Se; 1 
+
+
++“ 
+
+
+Act I, Sc. I] 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+Have heaven and earth together demonstrated | As needful in our loves, fitting our duty? 
+
+
+Unto our climatures and countrymen.— 
+But soft, behold! lo, where it comes again! 
+
+
+Re-enter Ghost. 
+
+
+I'll cross it, though it blast me. Stay, illusion! 
+
+If thou hast any sound, or use of voice, 
+
+Speak to me: 
+
+If there be any good thing to be done, 
+
+That may to thee do ease and grace to me, 
+
+Speak to me: [Cock crows. 
+
+If thou art privy to thy country’s fate, 
+
+Which, happily, foreknowing may avoid, 
+
+O, speak! 
+
+Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy life 
+
+Extorted treasure in the womb of earth, 
+
+For which they say, you spirits oft walk in 
+death, 
+
+Speak of it: stay, and speak! Stop it, Mar- 
+cellus. 
+
+Mar. Shall I strike at it with my partisan? 
+
+Hor. Do, if it will not stand. 
+
+Ber, "Tis here! 
+~ Hor. "Tis here! 
+
+Mar. ‘Tis gone! [Exit Ghost. 
+
+e do it wrong, being so majestical, 
+
+To offer it the show of violence; 
+For it is, as the air, invulnerable, 
+And our vain blows malicious mockery. 
+
+Ber. It was about to speak, when the cock 
+
+crew. 
+
+Hor. And then it started like a guilty thing 
+Upon a fearful summons. I have heard, 
+The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn, 150 
+Doth with his lofty and shnil-sounding throat 
+Awake the god of day; and, at his warning, 
+Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, 
+
+The extravagant and erring spirit hies 
+To his confine: and of the truth herein 
+This present object made probation. 
+
+Mar. It faded on the crowing of the cock. 
+Some say that ever ‘gainst that season comes 
+Wherein our Saviour’s birth is celebrated, 
+
+
+The bird of dawning singeth all night long: 160 
+
+
+130 
+
+
+_ And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad; 
+
+
+The nights are wholesome; then no planets 
+strike, 
+No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to 
+charm, 
+So hallow’d and so gracious is the time. 
+Hor. So have I heard and do in part be- 
+lieve it. 
+But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, 
+Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill: 
+Break we our watch up; and by my advice, 
+Let us impart what we have seen to-night 
+Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life, 170 
+This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him. 
+© you consent we shall acquaint him with it, 
+
+
+Mar. Let’s do’t, I pray; and I this morn- 
+ing know 
+Where we shall find him most conveniently. 
+[Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene II. A room of state in the castle. 
+
+
+Enter the Kinc, QueEN, Ham tet, Potontus, 
+LaERTES, VOLTIMAND, CoRNELIus, Lords, 
+and Attendants. 
+
+
+King. Though’ yet of Hamlet our dear 
+brother’s death 
+The memory be green, and that it us befitted 
+To bear our hearts in grief and our whole 
+kingdom 
+To be contracted in one brow of woe, 
+Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature 
+That we with wisest sorrow think on him, 
+Together with remembrance of ourselves, 
+Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen, 
+The imperial jointress to this warlike state, 
+Have we, as ‘twere with a defeated joy,— 10 
+With an auspicious and a dropping eye, 
+With mirth in funeral and with dirge in 
+marriage, 
+In equal scale weighing delight and dole,— 
+Taken to wife: nor have we herein barr’d 
+Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone 
+With this affair along. For all, our thanks. 
+Now follows, that you know, young Fortin- 
+bras, 
+Holding a weak supposal of our worth, 
+Or thinking by our late dear brother's death 
+Our state to be disjoint and out of frame, 20 
+Colleagued with the dream of his advantage, 
+He hath not fail’d to pester us with message, 
+Importing the surrender of those lands 
+Lost by his father, with all bonds of law, 
+To our most valiant brother. So much for 
+him. 
+Now for ourself and for this time of meeting: 
+Thus much the business is: we have here writ 
+To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras,— 
+Who, impotent and bed-rid, scarcely hears 
+Of this his nephew's purpose,—to suppress 30 
+His further gait herein; in that the levies, 
+The lists and full proportions, are all made 
+Out of his subject: and we here dispatch 
+You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltimand, 
+For bearers of this greeting to old Norway; 
+Giving to you no further personal power 
+To business with the king, more than the scope 
+Of these delated articles allow. 
+Farewell, and let your haste commend your 
+
+
+duty. 
+Cor. ) In that and all things will we show 
+Vol. t our duty. 40 
+
+
+King. We doubt it nothing: heartily fare- 
+well. [Exeunt Voltimand and Cornelius 
+
+
+1010 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+{Act I, Sc. Il 
+
+
+And now, Laertes, what's the news with you? 
+
+You told us of some suit; what ist, Laertes? 
+
+You cannot speak of reason to the Dane, 
+
+And lose your voice: what wouldst thou beg, 
+Laertes, 
+
+That shall not be my offer, not thy asking? 
+
+The head is not more native to the heart, 
+
+The hand more instrumental to the mouth, 
+
+Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father. 
+
+What wouldst thou have, Laertes> 
+
+Laer. My dread lord, 50 
+
+Your leave and favour to return to France; 
+
+From whence though willingly I came to Den- 
+mark, 
+
+To show my duty in your coronation, 
+
+Yet now, | must confess, that duty done, 
+
+My thoughts and wishes bend again toward 
+
+
+France 
+And bow them to your gracious leave and 
+
+pardon. 
+King. Have you your father’s leave? 
+
+
+What says Polonius > 
+Pol. He hath, my lord, wrung from me my 
+slow leave 
+By laboursome petition, and at last 
+Upon his will I seal’d my hard consent: 
+I do beseech you, give him leave to go. 
+King. Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time 
+be thine, 
+And thy best graces spend it at thy will! 
+But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son — 
+Ham. [Aside] A little more than kin, and 
+less than kind. 
+King. How is it that the clouds still hang 
+on you? 
+Ham. Not so, my lord; I am too much 7’ 
+the sun. 
+Queen. Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted 
+colour off, 
+And let thine eye look like a friend on Den- 
+mark, 
+Do not for ever with thy vailed lids 70 
+Seek for thy noble father in the dust: 
+Thou know’st ‘tis common; all that lives must 
+die, 
+Passing through nature to eternity. 
+Ham. Ay, madam, it is common, 
+Queen. If it be, 
+Why seems it so particular with thee? 
+Ham. Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know 
+not ‘seems.’ 
+‘Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, 
+Nor customary suits of solemn black, 
+Nor windy suspiration of forced breath, 
+No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, 
+Nor the dejected ‘haviour of the visage, 
+Together with all forms, moods, shapes of 
+grief, 
+That can denote me truly: these indeed seem, 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+For they are actions that a man might play: 
+
+But I have that within which passeth show; 
+
+These but the trappings and the suits of woe. 
+
+King. "Tis sweet and commendable in your 
+
+nature, Hamlet, 
+
+To give these mourning duties to your father: 
+
+But, you must know, your father lost a father; 
+
+That father lost, lost his, and the survivor 
+bound 
+
+In filial obligation for some term 91 
+
+To do obsequious sorrow: but to persever 
+
+In obstinate condolement is a course 
+
+Of impious stubbornness; ‘tis unmanly grief; 
+
+It shows a will most incorrect to heaven, 
+
+A heart unfortified, a mind impatient, 
+
+An understanding simple and unschool’d: 
+
+For what we know must be and is as common 
+
+As any the most vulgar thing to sense, 
+
+Why should we in our peevish opposition 100 
+
+Take it to heart? Fie! ‘tis a fault to heaven, 
+
+A fault against the dead, a fault to nature, 
+
+To reason most absurd; whose common theme 
+
+Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried, 
+
+From the first corse till he that died to-day, 
+
+‘This must be so.’ We pray you, throw to 
+earth 
+
+This unprevailing woe, and think of us 
+
+As of a father: for let the world take note, 
+
+You are the most immediate to our throne; 
+
+And with no less nobility of love 110 
+
+Than that which dearest father bears his son, 
+
+Do I impart toward you. For your intent 
+
+In going back to school in Wittenberg, 
+
+It is most retrograde to our desire: 
+
+And we beseech you, bend you to remain 
+
+Here, in the cheer and comfort of our eye, 
+
+Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son. 
+
+Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers, 
+
+Hamlet: 
+
+I pray thee, stay with us: go not to Witten- 
+
+
+berg. 
+Ham. | shall in all my best obey you, 
+madam. 126 
+
+
+King. Why, ’tis a loving and a fair reply: 
+Be as ourself in Denmark. Madam, come; 
+This gentle and unforced accord of Hamlet 
+Sits smiling to my heart: in grace whereof, 
+No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day, 
+But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell, 
+And the king’s rouse the heavens shall bruit 
+
+again, 
+Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away. 
+{Exeunt all but Hamlet, 
+Ham. O, that this too too solid flesh would 
+
+
+melt, 
+
+
+Thaw and resolve itself into a dew! 130 
+Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd 
+His canon ‘gainst self-slaughter! © God! 
+
+
+God! 
+
+
+Act I, Sc. H] 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+oll 
+
+
+How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable, 
+
+Seem to me all the uses of this world! 
+
+Fie on't! ah fie! ‘tis an unweeded garden, 
+
+That grows to seed; things rank and gross in 
+nature 
+
+Possess it merely. That it should come to this! 
+
+But two months dead: nay, not so much, not 
+two: 
+
+So excellent a king; that was, to this, 139 
+
+Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother 
+
+That he might not beteem the winds of heaven 
+
+Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth! 
+
+Mist | remember? why, she would hang on 
+
+im, 
+
+As if increase of appetite had grown 
+
+By what it fed on: and yet, within a month— 
+
+Let me not think on ’t—Frailty, thy name is 
+woman !— 
+
+A little month, or ere those shoes were old 
+
+With which she follow’d my poor father’s 
+body, 
+
+Like Niobe, all tears:—why she, even she— 
+
+O God! a beast, that wants discourse of rea- 
+son, 
+
+Would have mourn’d longer—married with 
+my uncle, 15] 
+
+My father’s brother, but no more like my 
+father 
+
+Than I to Hercules: within a month: 
+
+Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears 
+
+Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, 
+
+She married. O, most wicked speed, to post 
+
+With such dexterity to incestuous sheets! 
+
+It is not nor it cannot come to good: 
+
+But break, my heart; for I must hold my 
+tongue. 
+
+
+finter Horatio, MarceLLus, and BERNARDO. 
+
+
+‘Hor. Hail to your lordship! 
+Ham. I am glad to see you well: 160 
+_ Horatio,—or ! do forget myself. 
+Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor 
+servant ever. 
+Ham. Sir, my good friend; I'll change 
+that name with you: 
+And what make you from Wittenberg, Hora- 
+tio? 
+Marcellus? 
+Mar. My good lord— 
+Ham. | am very glad to see you. 
+even, sir. 
+}3ut what, in faith, make you from Witten- 
+berg? 
+Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord. 
+Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so, 
+Nor shall you do mine ear that violence, 171 
+To make it truster of your own report 
+Against yourself: I know you are no truant. 
+But what is your affair in Elsinore? 
+
+
+Good 
+
+
+We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart. 
+Hor, My lord, I came to see your father's 
+funeral. 
+Ham. 1 pray thee, do not mock me, 
+fellow-student; 
+I think it was to see my mother’s wedding. 
+Hor. Indeed, my lord, it follow’d hard 
+upon. 
+Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral 
+baked meats 180 
+Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. 
+Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven 
+Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio! 
+My father!—methinks I see my father. 
+Hor. Where, my lord? 
+Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio. 
+Hor. 1 saw him once; he was a goodly 
+king. 
+am. He was a man, take him for all in 
+all, 
+I shall not look upon his like again, 
+Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yester- 
+night. 
+Ham. Saw? who? 190 
+Hor. My lord, the king your father. 
+Ham. The king my father! 
+Hor. Season your admiration for a while 
+With an attent ear, till I may deliver, 
+Upon the witness of these gentlemen, 
+This marvel to you. 
+Ham. For God's love, let me hear. 
+Hor. Two nights together had these gentle- 
+men, 
+Marcellus and Bernado, on their watch, 
+In the dead vast and middle of the night, 
+Been thus encounter’d. A figure like your 
+father, 
+Armed at point exactly, cap-a-pe, 200 
+Appears before them, and with solemn march 
+Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he 
+walk'd 
+By their oppress’d and fear surprised eyes, 
+Within his truncheon’s length; whilst they, 
+distill’d 
+Almost to jelly with the act of fear, 
+Stand dumb and speak not to him. 
+me 
+In dreadful secrecy impart they did; 
+And I with them the third night kept the 
+watch: 
+Where, as they had deliver’d, both in time, 
+Form of the thing, each word made true and 
+good, 210 
+The apparition comes: J knew your father; 
+These hands are not more like. 
+Ham. But where was this? 
+Mar. My lord, upon the platform where we 
+watch'd. 
+Ham. Did you not speak to it? 
+
+
+This to 
+
+
+1012 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+Hor. My lord, I did; 
+But answer made it none: yet once methought 
+It lifted up its head and did address 
+Itself to motion, like as it would speak; 
+
+But even then the morning cock crew loud, 
+And at the sound it shrunk in haste away, 
+And vanish’d from our sight. 
+Ham. "Tis very strange. 220 
+Hor. As J do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis 
+true; 
+And we did think it writ down in our duty 
+To let you know of it. 
+
+Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles 
+
+me 
+
+
+Hold one the watch to-night? 
+Pee { We do, my lord. 
+
+
+Ham. Arm'd, say you? 
+coat t Arm’d, my lord. 
+Ham. From top to toe? 
+oon t My lord, from head to foot. 
+Ham. Then saw you not his face> 
+
+Hor. O, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver 
+
+
+up. 
+Ham. What, look’d he frowningly>? 231 
+Hor. A countenance more in sorrow than 
+in anger. 
+Ham. Pale or red? 
+Hor. Nay, very pale. 
+Ham. And fix'd his eyes upon you? 
+. Most constantly. 
+I would I had been there. 
+. It would have much amazed you. 
+Ham. Very like, very like. Stay'd it long? 
+Hor. While one with moderate haste might 
+tell a hundred. 
+nee t Longer, longer. 
+. Not when I saw 't. 
+His beard was grizzled,—no? 240 
+Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life, 
+A sable silver'd. 
+Ham. I will watch to-night; 
+Perchance ‘twill walk again. 
+Hor. I warrant it will. 
+~~~ Ham. If it assume my noble father’s per- 
+son, 
+I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape 
+And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all, 
+If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight, 
+Let it be tenable in your silence still; 
+And whatsoever else shall hap to-night, 
+Give it an understanding, but no tongue: 250 
+I will requite your loves. So, fare you well: 
+Upon the platform, ‘twixt eleven and twelve, 
+I'll visit you. 
+
+
+All, Our duty to your honour. 
+
+
+Ham. Your loves, as mine to you: farewell, 
+[Exeunt all but Hamlet. 
+
+My father’s spirit in arms! all is not well; 
+I doubt some foul play: would the night were 
+
+
+come! 
+
+Till then sit still, my soul: foul deeds will 
+rise, 
+
+Though all the earth o’erwhelm them, to 
+men’s eyes. [Exit. 
+
+
+Scene III. A room in Polonius’ house. 
+Enter LazRTEs and OPHELIA. 
+Laer. My necessaries are embark'd: fare- 
+well: 
+And, sister, as the winds give benefit 
+And convoy is assistant, do not sleep, 
+But let me hear from you. 
+Oph. Do you doubt that? 
+Laer. For Hamlet and the trifling of his 
+favour, 
+Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood, 
+A violet in the youth of primy nature, 
+Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting, 
+The perfume and suppliance of a minute; 
+No more. 
+
+Oph. No more but so? 
+
+Laer. Think it no more: 
+For nature, crescent, does not grow alone 
+In thews and bulk, but, as this temple waxes, 
+The inward service of the mind and soul 
+Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you 
+
+now, 
+
+And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch 
+The virtue of his will: but you must fear, 
+His greatness weigh’d, his will is not his own; 
+For he himself is subject to his birth: 
+
+He may not, ag unvalued persons do, 
+
+Carve for himself; for on his choice depends 
+The safety and health of this whole state; 
+And therefore must his choice be circumscribed 
+Unto the voice and yielding of that body 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+Whereof he is the head. Then if he says het 
+
+
+loves you, 
+
+It fits your wisdom so far to believe it 
+
+As he in his particular act and place 
+
+May give his saying deed; which is no further 
+
+Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal. 
+
+Then weigh what loss your honour may sus- 
+tain, 
+
+If with too credent ear you list his songs, 30 
+
+Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure 
+open 
+
+To his unmaster’d importunity. 
+
+Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister, 
+
+And keep you in the rear of your affection, 
+
+Out of the shot and danger of desire. 
+
+The chariest maid is prodigal enough, 
+
+If she unmask her beauty to the moon: 
+
+Virtue itself "scapes not calumnious strokes: 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. HI 
+
+
+y 
+
+
+gis “a - 
+
+
+‘AcrE, ScoHy 
+
+
+1 ae 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+© 1013 
+
+
+=" 
+
+
+The canker galls the infants of the spring, 
+Too oft before their buttons be disclosed, 40 
+And in the morn and liquid dew of youth 
+Contagious blastments are most imminent. 
+Be wary then; best safety lies in fear: 
+Youth to itself rebels, though none else near. 
+Oph. I shall the effect of this good lesson 
+keep, 
+As watchman to my heart. 
+brother, 
+Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, 
+Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven; 
+Whiles, like a puff’d and reckless libertine, 
+Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads, 
+And recks not his own rede. 
+Laer. O, fear me not. 5] 
+
+
+But, good my 
+
+
+- I stay too long: but here my father comes. 
+
+
+Enter Potonius. 
+
+
+A double blessing is a double grace; 
+Occasion smiles upon a second leave. 
+Pol. Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, 
+
+for shame! 
+
+The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail, 
+
+And you are stay'd for. There; my blessing 
+with thee! 
+
+And these few precepts in thy memory 
+
+See thou character. Give thy thoughts no 
+tongue, 
+
+Nor any unproportion’d thought his act. 60 
+
+Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. 
+
+Those friends thou hast, and their adoption 
+tried, 
+
+Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel; 
+
+But do not dull thy palm with entertainment 
+
+Of each new-hatch’d, unfledged comrade. Be- 
+ware 
+
+Of entrance to a quarrel, but being in, 
+
+Bear ‘t that the opposed may beware of thee. 
+
+Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice; 
+
+
+_ Take each man’s censure, but reserve thy 
+
+
+judgement. 
+Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, 70 
+But not express’d in fancy; rich, not gaudy; 
+For the apparel oft proclaims the man, 
+And they in France of the best rank and sta- 
+tion 
+fAre of a most select and generous chief in 
+that. y 
+Neither a borrower nor a lender be; 
+For loan oft loses both itself and friend, 
+And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. 
+This above all: to thine own self be true, 
+And it must follow, as the night the day, 
+Thou*eanst not then be false to any man. 
+Farewell: my blessing season this in thee! 
+Laer. Most humbly do I take my leave, my 
+lord. 
+
+
+80 
+
+
+Pol. The time invites you; go; your serv- 
+ants tend. 
+
+Laer. Farewell, Ophelia; and remember 
+well 
+
+
+What I have said to you. 
+
+
+Oph. "Tis in my memory lock'd, 
+And you yourself shall keep the key of it. 
+Laer. Farewell. [Exit 
+Pol. What is't, Ophelia, he hath said to 
+you? 
+
+
+Oph. So please you, something touching the 
+Lord Hamlet. 
+Pol. Marry, well bethought: 
+"Tis told me, he hath very oft of late 
+Given private time to you; and you yourself 
+Have of your audience been most free and 
+bounteous: 
+If it be so, as so ‘tis put on me, 
+And that in way of caution, I must tell you, 
+You do not understand yourself so clearly 
+As it behoves my daughter and your honour. 
+What is between you? give me up the truth. 
+Oph. He hath, my lord, of late made 
+many tenders 
+Of his affection to me. 100 
+Pol. Affection! pooh! you speak like a 
+green girl, 
+Unsifted in such perilous circumstance. 
+Do you believe his tenders, as you call them? 
+Oph. I do not know, my lord, what I 
+should think. 
+Pol. Marry, I'll teach you: think yourself 
+a baby; 
+That you have ta’en these tenders for true pay, 
+Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more 
+dearly; 
+Or—not to crack the wind of the poor phrase, 
+Running it thes—you ‘Il tender me a fool. 
+Oph. My lord, he hath importuned me with 
+love 110 
+In honourable fashion. 
+Pol. Ah, fashion you may call it; go to, 
+go to. 
+Oph. And hath given countenance to his 
+speech, my lord, 
+With almost all the holy vows of heaven. 
+Pol. Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I 
+do know, 
+When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul 
+Lends the tongue vows: these blazes, daughter, 
+Giving more light than heat, extinct in both, 
+Even in their promise, as it is a-making, 119 
+You must not take for fre. From this time 
+Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence; 
+Set your entreatments at a higher rate 
+Than a command to parley. For Lord Ham- 
+let, 
+Be*eve so much in him, that he is young, 
+And with a larger tether may he walk 
+
+
+1014 
+
+
+Than may be given you: in few, Ophelia, 
+
+Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers, 
+
+Not of that dye which their investments show, 
+
+But mere implorators of unholy suits, 
+
+Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds, 130 
+
+The better to beguile. This is for all: 
+
+I would not, in plain terms, from this time 
+forth, 
+
+Have you so slander any moment leisure, 
+
+As to give words or talk with the Lord Ham- 
+let. 
+
+Look to’t, | charge you: come your ways. 
+
+
+Oph. | shall obey, my lord. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. The platform. 
+Enter HAMLET, Horatio, and MarceLLus. 
+
+
+Ham. The air bites shrewdly; it is very 
+cold. 
+Hor. It is a nipping and an eager air. 
+Ham. What hour now? 
+Hor. I think it lacks of twelve. 
+Mar. No, it is struck. 
+Hor. Indeed? I heard 
+draws near the season 
+Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk. 
+[A flourish of trumpets, and ordnance 
+shot off, within. 
+What does this mean, my lord? 
+Ham. The king doth wake to-night and 
+takes his rouse, 
+Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring 
+reels; 
+And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish 
+down, 
+The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out |] 
+The triumph of his pledge. 
+Hor. Is it a custom? 
+Ham. Ay, marry, is‘t: 
+But to my mind, though I am native here 
+And to the manner born, it is a custom 
+More honour’d in the breach than the obser- 
+vance. 
+This heavy-headed revel east and west 
+Makes us traduced and tax'd of other na- 
+tions: 
+They clepe us drunkards, and with swinish 
+phrase 
+Soil our addition; and indeed it takes 20 
+From our achievements, though perform'd at 
+height, 
+The pith and marrow of our attribute. 
+So, oft it chances in particular men, 
+That for some vicious mole of nature in 
+them, 
+As, in their birth—wherein they are not 
+guilty, 
+Since nature cannot choose his origin— 
+By the o'ergrowth of some complexion, 
+
+
+it not: then it 
+
+
+HAMLET f 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. IV 
+
+
+Oft breaking down the pales and forts of 
+reason, 
+
+Or by some habit that too much o’er-leavens 
+The form of plausive manners, that these men, 
+Carrying, I say, the stamp.of one defect, 31 
+Being nature's livery, or fortune’s star,— 
+Their virtues else—be they as pure as grace, 
+As infinite as man may undergo— 
+Shall in the general censure take corruption 
+From that particular fault: the dram of Teale 
+Doth all the noble substance fof a doubt 
+To his own scandal. 
+
+Hor. Look, my lord, it comes! 
+
+
+Enter Ghost. 
+
+
+Ham. Angels and ministers of grace de- 
+fend us! 
+Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn’d, 
+Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts 
+from hell, 
+Be thy intents wicked or charitable, 
+Thou comest in-such a questionable shape 
+That I will speak to thee: I'll call thee 
+Hamlet, 
+King, father, royal Dane: O, answer me! 
+Let me not burst in ignorance; but tell 
+Why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death, 
+Have burst their cerements; why the 
+sepulchre, 
+Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn’d, 
+Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws, 
+To cast thee up again. What may this mean, 
+That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel 
+Revisit’st thus the glimpses of the moon, 
+Making night hideous; and we fools of 
+nature 
+So horridly to shake our disposition 
+With thoughts beyond the reaches of our 
+souls ? 
+Say, why is this? wherefore? what should 
+we do? [Ghost beckons Hamlet. 
+Hor. \t beckons you to go away with it, 
+As if it some impartment did desire 
+To you alone. 
+Mar. Look, with what courteous action 60 
+It waves you to a more removed ground: 
+But do not go with it. 
+
+
+Hor. No, by no means. 
+oR It will not speak; then I will follow 
+Hie Do not, my lord. 
+
+
+Ham. Why, what should be the fear? 
+I do not set my life at a pin’s fee; 
+And for my soul, what can it do to that, 
+Being a thing immortal as itself? 
+It waves me forth again: I'll follow it. 
+Hor. What if it tempt you toward the 
+flood, my lord, 
+Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff 70 
+
+
+— Acr I, Se.'V] 
+
+
+That beetles o’er his base into the sea, 
+And there assume some other horrible form, 
+Which might deprive your sovereignty of rea- 
+son 
+
+And draw you into madness? think of it: 
+The very place puts toys of desperation, 
+Without more motive, into every brain 
+That looks so many fathoms to the sea 
+And hears it roar beneath. 
+
+Ham. It waves me still. 
+Go on; I'll follow thee. 
+
+Mar. You shall not go, my lord. 
+
+
+Ham. Hold off your hands. 80. 
+Hor. Be ruled; you shall not go. 
+Ham. My fate cries out, 
+
+
+And makes each petty artery in this body 
+As hardy as the Nemean lion’s nerve. 
+
+Still am I call’d. Unhand me, gentlemen. 
+
+_ By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that 
+
+
+lets me! 
+I say, away! Go on; I'll follow thee. 
+[Exeunt Ghost and Hamlet. 
+.. Hor. He waxes desperate with imagina- 
+tion. 
+Mar. Let’s follow; ‘tis not fit thus to obey 
+him. 
+Hor. Have after. To what issue will this 
+come? 
+Mar. Something is rotten in the state of 
+
+
+Denmark. 90 
+Hor. Heaven will direct it. 
+Mar. Nay, let’s follow him. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene V. Another part of ihe platform. 
+
+
+Enter GHost and HaMLet. 
+
+
+Ham. Where wilt thou lead me? speak; 
+~ I'll go no further. 
+
+
+Ghost. Mark me. 
+Ham. I will. 
+Ghost. My hour is almost come, 
+
+
+When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames 
+Must render up myself. 
+am. 
+Ghost. 
+hearing 
+To what 1 shall unfold. 
+Ham. Speak; I am bound to hear. 
+Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou 
+shalt hear. 
+Ham. What? 
+Ghost. I am thy father’s spirit, 
+Doom’'d for a certain term to walk the night, 
+' And for the day confined to fast in fires, 
+Till the foul crimes done in my days of 
+nature 
+Are burnt and purged away. But that I am 
+forbid 
+
+
+To tell the secrets of my prison-house, 
+
+
+Alas, poor ghost! 
+Pity me not, but lend thy serious 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+Wk. 
+LOWY 
+
+
+I could a tale unfold whose lightest word - 
+Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young. 
+blood, 
+Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from 
+their spheres, 
+Thy knotted and combined locks to part 
+And each particular hair to stand on end,. 
+Like quills upon the fretful porpentine: 20 
+But this eternal blazon must not be 
+To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, tows 
+If thou didst ever thy dear father love— 
+Ham. O God! 
+Ghost. Revenge his foul and most un- 
+natural murder. 
+Ham. Murder! 
+Ghost. Murder most foul, as in the ee it 
+is; 
+But this most foul, strange and unnatural.: 
+Ham. Haste me to know't, that I, with 
+wings as swift 
+As meditation or the thoughts of love, 30 
+May sweep to my revenge. ‘ 
+Ghost. I find thee apf; ' 
+And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed 
+That roots itself in ease on Lethe wharf,’ 
+Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, 
+hear: 
+‘Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard, 
+A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of 
+Denmark 
+Is by a forged process of my death 
+Rankly abused; but know, thou noble youth, 
+The serpent that did sting thy father’s life . 
+Now wears his crown. 
+
+
+Ham O my prophetic soul! 40 
+My uncle! 
+Ghost. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate 
+beast, 
+With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous 
+gifts,— 
+
+
+O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power 
+So to seduce!—won to his shameful lust 
+The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen: 
+O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there! 
+From me, whose ‘love was of that dignity 
+That it went hand in hand even with the vow 
+I made to her in marriage, and to decline 50 
+Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor 
+To those of mine! 
+But virtue, as it never will be moved, 
+Though lewdness court it in a shape of 
+heaven, 
+So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd, 
+Will sate itself in a celestial bed, 
+And prey on garbage. 
+But, soft! methinks I scent the morning air; 
+Brief let me be. Sleepimg within my orchard, 
+My custom always of the afternoon, 
+
+
+| Upen my secure hour thy uncle stole, 
+
+
+$016 
+
+
+With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial, 
+
+And in the porches of my ears did pour 
+
+The leperous distilment; whose effect 
+
+Holds such an enmity with blood of man 
+
+That swift as quicksilver it courses through 
+
+The natural gates and alleys of the body, 
+
+And with a sudden vigour it doth posset 
+
+“And curd, like eager droppings into milk, 
+
+The thin and wholesome blood: so did it 
+mine; 70 
+
+And a most instant tetter bark’d about, 
+
+Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust, 
+
+<All my smooth body. 
+
+Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother’s hand 
+
+OF life, of crown, of queen, at once dis- 
+patch'd: 
+
+Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, 
+
+Unhousel’d, disappointed, unaneled, 
+
+‘No reckoning made, but sent to my account 
+
+With all my imperfections on my head: 
+
+4), horrible! O, horrible! most horrible! 80 
+
+if thou hast nature in thee, bear it not; 
+
+Let not the royal bed of Denmark be 
+
+A couch for luxury and damned incest. 
+
+But, howsoever thou pursuest this act, 
+
+‘Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive 
+
+Against thy mother aught: leave her to 
+
+‘heaven 
+
+And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge, 
+
+To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at 
+once! 
+
+The glow-worm shows the matin to be near, 
+
+And ‘gins to pale his uneffectual fire: 90 
+
+Adieu, adieu! Hamlet, remember me. [Exit. 
+
+. Ham. O all you host of heaven! O earth! 
+what else? 
+
+And shall I couple hell? O, fie! Hold, 
+hold, my heart; 
+
+And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, 
+
+But bear me stiffly up. Remember thee! 
+
+Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a 
+seat 
+
+in this distracted globe. Remember thee! 
+
+Yea, from the table of my memory 
+
+I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, 
+
+All saws of books, all forms, all pressures 
+past, 
+
+That youth and observation copied there; 101 
+
+And thy commandment all alone shall live 
+
+Within the book and volume of my brain, 
+
+Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven! 
+
+O most pernicious woman! 
+
+© villain, villam, smiling, damned villain! 
+
+My tables,—meet it is I set it down, 
+
+That one may smile, and smile, and be a 
+villain ; 
+
+At deast I’m sure it may be so in Denmark: 
+
+(Writing. 
+
+
+So, uncle. there you are. Now to my word; 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+oa a. 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. V 
+
+
+11 
+
+
+It is ‘Adieu, adieu! remember me.’ 
+I have sworn 't. 
+
+
+jae t [Within] ‘My lord, mys lord, 
+Mar. [Within] Lord Hamlet,— 
+Hor. [Within] Heaven secure him! 
+
+
+Ham. So be it! 
+Hor. [Within] Hillo, ho, ho, my lord! 
+Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy! come, bird, 
+come. ; 
+Enter Horatio and MarRceELLus, 
+
+
+Mar. How is’t, my noble lord? 
+
+
+Hor. What news, my lord? 
+Ham. O, wonderful! 
+Hor. Good my lord, tell it. 
+
+
+Ham. 
+Hor. 
+Mar. 
+
+
+No; you'll reveal it. 
+Not I, my lord, by heaven. 
+
+
+Nor I, my lord. 120 
+
+
+Ham. How say you, then; would heart of 
+
+
+man once think it? 
+But you'll be secret? 
+
+Hor. 
+
+Mar. 
+
+Ham. There's ne'er a villain dwelling in 
+
+all Denmark 
+But he’s an arrant knave. 
+Hor. There needs no ghost, my lord, come 
+from the grave ¢ 
+To tell us this. 
+
+Ham. Why, right; you are i’ the right; 
+And so, without more circumstance at all, — 
+I hold it fit that we shake hands and part: 
+You, as your business and desire shal] point 
+
+you; 
+130 
+
+
+For every man has business and desire, 
+poor part, 
+
+
+Ay, by heaven, my lord. 
+
+
+Such as it iss and for mine own 
+Look you, I'll go pray. 
+
+
+Hor. These are but wild and whirling — 
+
+
+words, my lord. 
+Ham. | am sorry they offend you, heartily; 
+Yes, faith, heartily. 
+Hor. There ’s no offence, my lord. 
+Ham. Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, 
+Horatio, 
+And much offence too. Touching this vision 
+here, 
+It is an honest ghost, that let tell you: 
+For your desire to know what is between 
+us, 
+O’ermaster t as you may. 
+friends, 
+As you are friends, scholars and soldiers, 
+Give me one poor request. 
+Hor. What is’t, my lord? we will. 
+Ham. Never make known what you have 
+seen to-night. 
+Hor. 
+Mar. 
+
+
+And now, good 
+140 
+
+
+My lord, we will not, 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+We 
+
+
+10%? 
+
+
+Ham Nay, but swear 't. 
+
+Hor. In faith, 
+My lord, not I. 
+
+Mar. Nor I, my lord, in faith. 
+
+Ham. Upon my sword. 
+
+Mar. We have sworn, my lord, already. 
+
+Ham. Indeed, upon my sword, indeed. 
+
+Ghost. [Beneath] Swear. 
+
+
+Ham. Ah, ha, boy! say’st thou so? art 
+thou there, truepenny ? 150 
+Come on—you hear this fellow in the cel- 
+
+
+larage— 
+
+Consent to swear. f 
+Hor. Propose the oath, my lord. 
+Ham. Never to speak of this that you 
+
+have seen, 
+
+
+Swear by my sword. 
+Ghost. [Beneath] Swear. 
+Ham. Hic et ubique? then we'll shift our 
+ground, 
+Come hither, gentlemen, 
+And lay your hands again upon my sword: 
+
+
+Never to speak of this that you have heard, 
+; Swear by my sword. 
+
+
+160 
+Ghost. [Beneath] Swear. 
+Ham. Well said, old mole! canst work i 
+the earth so fast? 
+A worthy pioner! Once more remove, good 
+friends. 
+Hor. O day and night, but this is won- 
+drous strange! 
+Ham. And therefore as a stranger give it 
+welcome. 
+There are more things in heaven and earth, 
+Horatio, 
+Than are dreamt of in” your philosophy. 
+
+
+‘3 But come; 
+
+
+Here, as before, never, so help you mercy, 
+How strange or odd soe’er I bear myself, 170 
+As I perchance hereafter shall think meet 
+To put an antic disposition on, 
+That you, at such times seeing me, never shall, 
+With arms encumber'd thus, or this head- 
+shake, 
+_ Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase, 
+As ‘Well, well, we know,’ or “We could, an 
+if we would,” 
+Or ‘If we list to speak,’ or ‘There be, an A 
+they might,” 
+Or such ambiguous giving out, to note 
+That you know aught of me: this not to do, 
+So grace and mercy at your most need help 
+you, 180 
+Swear. 
+Ghost.. [Beneath] Swear. 
+Ham. Rest, rest, perturbed spirit! 
+swear.] So, Gentlemens 
+With all my love I do commend me to you: 
+And what so poor a man as Hamlet is 
+
+
+[They 
+
+
+U 
+
+
+May do, to express his love and friending ta 
+
+
+_ you, 
+
+God willing, shall not lack. 
+together ; 
+
+And still your fingers on your lips, I pray. 
+
+The time is out of joint: O cursed spite, 
+
+That ever I was born to set it right! 
+
+Nay, come, let’s go together. 
+
+
+Let us go im 
+
+
+196 
+
+
+[Exeuni. 
+
+
+ACT II. 
+
+
+Scene I, A room in Polonius’ house. 
+
+
+Enter Potonius and REYNALDO, 
+
+
+Pol. Give him this money and these notes; 
+Reynaldo. 
+Rey. I will, my lord. 
+Pol. You shall do marvellous wisely, good 
+Reynaldo, 
+Before you visit him, to make i inquire 
+Of his behaviour. 
+Rey. My lord, I did intend it. 
+Pol. Marry, well said; very well said. 
+Look you, sir, 
+Inquire me first what Danskers are in Paris; 
+And how, and who, what means, and where 
+they keep, 
+What company, at what expense; and find- 
+ing 
+By this encompassment and drift of question’ 
+That they do know my son, come you more 
+nearer 
+Than your particular demands will touch ii: 
+Take you, as ‘twere, some distant knowledge 
+of him; 
+As thus, ‘I know his father and his friends, 
+And in part him:’ do you mark this, Rey- 
+naldo > 
+Rey. Ay, very well, my lord. 
+Pol. ‘And in part him; but’ you may say 
+‘not well: 
+But, if ’t be he I mean, he’s very wild; 
+Addicted so and so:’ and there put on him 
+What forgeries you please; marry, none so 
+rank 2C 
+As may dishonour him; take heed of that; 
+But, sir, such wanton, wild and usual slips 
+As are companions noted and most known 
+To youth and liberty. 
+Rey. As gaming, my lord. 
+Pol. Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, 
+quarrelling, 
+Drabbing: you may go so far. 
+Rey. My lord, that would dishonour him. 
+Pol. ‘Faith, no; as you may season: it in 
+the charge. 
+You must not put another scandal on him, 
+
+
+| That he is open to incontinency; 
+
+
+1618 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+* 
+
+
+[Acr II, Sc. } 
+
+
+That’s not my meaning; but breathe his 
+faults so quaintly 
+That they may seem the taints of liberty, 
+The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind, 
+A savageness in unreclaimed blood, 
+OF general assault. 
+"Rey. But, my good lord,— 
+. Wherefore should you do this? 
+Rey, Ay, my lord, 
+I would know that. 
+Pol. Marry, sir, here’s my drift; 
+_ And, I believe, it is a fetch of wit: 
+You laying these slight sullies on my son, 
+As ‘twere a thing a little soil’d 1’ the work- 
+ing, 
+Mark you, 4] 
+
+
+Your party in converse, him you would |: 
+
+
+sound, 
+
+Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes 
+The youth you breathe of guilty, be assured 
+He closes with you in this consequence; 
+‘Good sir,’ or so, or ‘friend,’ or ‘gentleman,’ 
+According to the phrase or the addition 
+Of man and country. 
+
+Rey. Very good, my lord. 
+
+Pol. And then, sir, does he this—he does 
+—what was I about to say? By the mass, I 
+
+
+was about to say something: where did I 
+leave? 51 
+Rey. At ‘closes in the consequence,’ at 
+‘friend or so,’ and ‘gentleman.’ 
+Pol. At ‘closes in the consequence,’ ay, 
+marry; 
+
+
+He closes thus: ‘] know the gentleman; 
+
+I.saw him yesterday, or t’ other day, 
+
+Or then, or then; with such, or such; and, as 
+you say, 
+
+There was a’ gaming; there o’ertook in’s 
+rouse; 
+
+There falling out at tennis:” or perchance, 
+
+‘I saw him enter such a house of sale,’ 
+
+Videlicet, a brothel, or so forth. 
+
+See you now; 
+
+Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of 
+truth: 
+
+Aind thus do we of wisdom and of reach, 
+
+With waindlasses and with assays of bias, 
+
+By indirections find directions out: 
+
+So by my former lecture and advice, 
+
+Shall you my son. You have me, have you 
+not > 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+Rey. My lord, I have. 
+
+Pol God be wi’ you; fare you well. 
+Rey. Good my lord! 
+
+Pol. Observe his inclination in yourself. 
+Rey. I shall, my lord. 
+
+
+Pol. And let him ply his music. 
+Rey. Well, my lord. 
+Pol, Farewell! [Exit Reynaldo. 
+
+
+Enter OPHELIA. 
+
+
+How now, Ophelia! what’s the matter? 
+Oph. O, my lord, my lord, I have been 
+so affrighted! 
+Pol. With what, i’ the name of God? 
+Oph. My lord, as I was sewing in my 
+closet, 
+Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbraced; 
+No hat upon his head; his stockings foul’d, 
+Ungarter’d, and down-gyved to his ancle; 80 
+Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each 
+other; 
+And with a look so piteous in purport 
+As if he had been loosed out of hell 
+To speak of horrors,—he comes before me. 
+Pol. Mad for thy love? : 
+Oph. My lord, I do not know; 
+But truly, I do fear it. 
+Pol. What said he? 
+Oph. He took me by the wrist and held 
+me hard; 
+Then goes he to the length of all his arm; 
+And, with his other hand thus o’er his brow, 
+He falls to such perusal of my face 90 
+As he would draw it. Long stay’d he so; 
+At last, a little shaking of mine arm 
+And thrice his head thus waving up and 
+down, 
+He raised a sigh so piteous and profound 
+As it did seem to shatter all his bulk 
+And end his being: that done, he lets me go: 
+And, with his head over his shoulder turn’d, 
+He seem’d to find his way without his eyes; 
+For out o’ doors he went without their helps, 
+And, to the last, bended their light on me. 
+Pol. Come, go with me: I will go seek 
+the king. 
+This is the very ecstasy of love, 
+Whose violent property fordoes itself 
+And leads the will to desperate undertakings 
+As oft as any passion under heaven 
+That does afflict our natures. [I am sorry. 
+What, have you given him any hard words 
+of late? 
+Oph. No, my good lord, but, as you did 
+command, ‘ 
+I did repel his letters and denied 
+His access to me. 
+
+
+Pol. That hath made him mad. 110 
+
+‘I am sorry that with better heed and judge- 
+ment 
+
+I had not quoted him: I fear’d he did but 
+trifle, 
+
+
+‘And meant to wreck thee; but, beshrew my 
+
+
+jealousy! 
+By heaven, it is as proper to our age 
+To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions 
+As it is common for the younger sort 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+Act Il, Sc. 1] 
+
+
+-That, 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+Wes 
+1019 
+
+
+To lack discretion. 
+king: 
+This iatust] be known; which, being kept close, 
+might move 
+More grief to hide than hate to utter love. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. A room in the castle. 
+Enter Kinc,.QUEEN, ROSENCRANTZ, GUILD- 
+ENSTERN, and Attendants. 
+
+King. Welcome, 
+
+Guildenstern! 
+
+
+Come, go we to the 
+
+
+dear Rosencrantz and 
+
+
+Moxeover that we much did long to see you,. 
+
+
+The need we have to use you did provoke 
+
+Our hasty sending. Something have you heard 
+
+Of Hamlet's transformation; so call it, 
+
+Sith nor the exterior nor the inward man 
+
+Resembles that it was. What it should be, 
+
+More than his father’s death, that thus hath 
+put him 
+
+So much from the understanding of himself, 
+
+I cannot dreara of: I entreat you both, 10 
+
+being of so young days brought up 
+with him, 
+
+And sith so neighbour’d to his youth and 
+haviour, 
+
+That you vouchsafe your rest here in our 
+court 
+
+Some little time: so by your companies 
+
+To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather, 
+
+So much as from occasion you may glean, 
+
+Whether aught, to us unknown, afflicts him 
+thus, 
+
+That, open’d, lies within our remedy. 
+
+Queen. Good gentlemen, he hath much 
+
+talk’d of you; 
+
+And sure | am two men there are not living 
+
+To whom he more adheres. If it will please 
+you 
+
+To show us so much gentry and good will 
+
+As to expend your time with us awhile, 
+
+For the supply and profit of our hope, 
+
+Your visitation shall receive such thanks 
+
+As fits a king’s remembrance. 
+
+
+Ros. Both your majesties 
+Might, by the sovereign power you have of 
+us, 
+
+
+Put your dread pleasures more into command 
+Than to entreaty. 
+Guil. But we both obey, 
+And here give up ourselves, in the full bent 
+To lay our service freely at your feet, 
+To be commanded. 
+King. Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle 
+Guildenstern. 
+Queen. Thanks, 
+Rosencrantz: 
+And I beseech you instantly to visit 
+My too much changed son. Go, some of you, 
+
+
+Guildenstern and gentle 
+
+
+And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is. 
+Guil. Heavens make our presence and our 
+practices 
+Pleasant and helpful to him! 
+Queen. Ay, amen! 
+[Exeunt Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and 
+some Attendants. 
+
+
+Enter Potontus. 
+
+
+Pol. The ambassadors from Norway, my 
+good lord, 
+Are joyfully return’d. 
+King. Thou still hast been the father of 
+good news, 
+Pol. Have I, my lord? I assure my good 
+liege, 
+I hold my duty, as I hold my soul, 
+Both to my God and to my gracious king: 
+And I do think, or else this brain of mine 
+Hunts not the trail of policy so sure 
+As it hath used to do, that I have found 
+The very cause of Hamlet’s lunacy. 
+King. O, speak of that; that do I long to 
+
+
+hear. 50 
+Pol. Give first admittance to the ambas- 
+sadors; 
+
+
+My news shall be the fruit to that great feast. 
+King. Thyself do grace to them, and bring 
+
+
+them in. [Exit Polonius. 
+He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath 
+found 
+The head and source of all your son’s dis- 
+temper. 
+
+
+Queen. | doubt it is no other but the main; 
+His father’s death, and our o’erhasty mar-~ 
+riage. 
+King. Well, we shall sift him. 
+Re-enter PoLonius, with VoLTIMAND and 
+CORNELIUS. 
+
+
+Welcome, my good friends! 
+Say, Voltimand, what from our brother Nor- 
+way > 
+Volt. Most fair return of ‘greetings and 
+desires. 
+Upon our first, he sent out to suppress 
+His nephew's levies; which to him appear’d 
+To be a preparation ‘gainst the Polack; 
+But, better look’d into, he truly found 
+It was against your highness: whereat grieved, 
+That so his sickness, age and impotence 
+Was falsely borne in hand, sends out arrests 
+On Fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys; 
+Receives rebuke from Norway, and in fine 
+Makes vow before his uncle never more 70 
+To give the assay of arms against your ma- 
+jesty. 
+Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy, 
+Gives him three thousand crowns in annu 
+fee, 
+
+
+1020 
+
+
+And his commission to employ those soldiers, 
+So levied as before, against the Polack: 
+With an entreaty, herein further shown, 
+
+[Giving a paper. 
+That it might please you to give quiet pass 
+Through your dominions for this enterprise, 
+On such regards of safety and allowance 
+As therein are set down. 
+
+King. It likes us well; 80 
+And at our more consider'd time we'll read, 
+Answer, and think upon this business. 
+Meantime we thank you for your well-took 
+
+labour: 
+Go to your rest; at night we ‘Il feast together: 
+Most welcome home! 
+[Exeunt Voltimand and Cornelius. 
+
+Pol. This business is well ended. 
+My liege, and madam, to expostulate 
+What majesty should be, what duty is, 
+
+Why day is day, night night, and time is 
+time, 
+
+Were nothing but to waste night, day and 
+time. 
+
+Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, 90 
+
+And tediousness the limbs and outward flour- 
+ishes, 
+
+I will be brief: your noble son is mad: 
+
+Mad call I it; for, to define true madness, 
+
+What is ‘t but to be nothing else but mad? 
+
+But let that go. 
+
+Queen. More matter, with less art. 
+
+Pol. Madam, I swear I use no art at all. 
+That he is mad, ‘tis true: ‘tis true ‘tis pity; 
+And pity ‘ts ‘tis true: a foolish figure; 
+
+But farewell it, for I will use no art. 
+Mad let us grant him, then: and now re- 
+mains 
+That we find out the cause of this effect, 101 
+Or rather say, the cause of this defect, 
+For this effect defective comes by cause: 
+Thus it remains, and the remainder thus. 
+Perpend. 
+I have a daughter—have while she is mine— 
+Who, in her duty and obedience, mark, 
+Hath given me this: now gather, and sur- 
+mise. [Reads. 
+‘To the celestial and my soul's idol, the most 
+beautified Ophelia,’— 110 
+That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase; ‘beauti- 
+fied’ is a vile phrase: but you shall hear. 
+Thus: [ Reads. 
+"In her excellent white bosom, these, &c.’ 
+Queen. Came this from Hamlet to her? 
+Pol. Good madam, stay awhile; I will be 
+faithful. [Reads. 
+‘Doubt thou the stars are fire; 
+Doubt that the sun doth move; 
+Doubt truth to be a liar; 
+But never doubt I love. 
+
+
+119 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+‘O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these num- 
+bers; I have not art to reckon my groans: but 
+that I love thee best, O most best, believe it. 
+Adieu. 
+
+‘Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst 
+this machine is to him, HAMLET.’ 
+This, in obedience, hath my daughter shown 
+me, 
+And more above, hath his solicitings, 
+As they fell out by time, by means and place, 
+All given to mine ear. 
+
+
+King. But how hath she 
+Received his love? 
+Pol. What do you think of me? 
+
+
+King. As of a man faithful and honour- 
+able. 
+
+Pol. I would fain prove so. 
+might you think, 
+
+
+But what 
+131 
+
+
+When I had seen this hot love on the wing— ~* 
+
+
+As I perceived it, I must tell you that, 
+Before my daughter told me—what might 
+you, 
+Or my dear majesty your queen here, think, 
+If I had play’d the desk or table-book, 
+Or given my heart a winking, mute and 
+dumb, 
+Or look'd upon this love with idle sight; 
+What might you think? No, I went round 
+to work, 
+And my young mistress thus I] did bespeak: 
+‘Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy star; 141 
+This must not be:’ and then I prescripts gave 
+her, 
+That she should lock herself from his resort, 
+Admit no messengers, receive no tokens, 
+Which done, she took the fruits of my ad- 
+Vice; 
+And he, repulsed—a short tale to make— 
+Fell into a sadness, then into a fast, 
+Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness, 
+Thence to a lightness, and, by this declension, 
+Into the madness wherein now he raves, 150 
+And all we mourn for. 
+King. Do you think ‘tis this? 
+Queen. It may be, very likely. 
+Pol. Hath there been such a time—I 'd fain 
+know that— 
+That I have positive said ‘ ’Tis so,” 
+When it proved otherwise? 
+King. Not that I know. 
+Pol. [Pointing to his head and shoulders] 
+Take this from this, if this be otherwise: 
+If circumstances lead me, | will find 
+Where truth is hid, though it were hid in- 
+deed 
+Within the centre. 
+King. How may we try it further? 
+Pol. You know, sometimes he walks four 
+hours together 160 
+
+
+[Acr ll, Sc. WT 
+
+
+f 
+
+
+ey 
+
+
+Act Il, Sc. HI] 
+
+
+Here in the lobby. 
+Queen. So he does indeed. 
+Pol. At such a time I'll loose my daugh- 
+ter to him: 
+Be you and | behind an arras then; 
+Mark the encounter: if he love her not 
+And be not from his reason fall’n thereon, 
+Let me be no assistant for a state, 
+But keep a farm and carters. 
+King, We will try it. 
+Queen. But, look, where sadly the poor 
+wretch comes reading. 
+Pol. Away, I do beseech you, both away: 
+I'll board him presently. 
+[Exeunt King, Queen, and Altendants. 
+
+
+Enter HaMLet, reading. 
+
+
+O, give me leave: 170 
+How does my good Lord Hamlet? 
+Ham, Well, God-a-mercy. 
+Pol. Do you know me, my lord? 
+Ham. Excellent well; you are a fish- 
+monger, 
+
+
+Pol. Not I, my lord. 
+
+Ham. Then I would you were so honest a 
+
+man, 
+
+Pol. Honest, my lord! 
+
+Ham. Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world 
+goes, is to be one man picked out of ten 
+thousand, 
+
+Pol. That’s very true, my lord, 180 
+
+Ham. For if the sun breed maggots in a 
+dead dog, being a yod kissing carrion,—Have 
+you a daughter? 
+
+Pol. I have, my lord. 
+
+.Ham. Let her not walk i’ the sun: con- 
+ception is a blessing: but not as your daugh- 
+
+_ter may conceive. Friend, look to’t. 
+
+Pol. [Aside] How say you by that? Still 
+harping on my daughter: yet he knew me not 
+at first; he said I was a fishmonger: he is 
+far gone, far gone; and truly in my youth 
+I suffered much extremity for love; very 
+near this. I'll speak to him again. What 
+do you read, my lord? 
+
+Ham. Words, words, words. 
+
+Pol. What is the matter, my lord? 
+
+Ham. Between who? 
+
+I mean, the matter that you read, my 
+lord. 
+
+Ham. Slanders, sir: for the satirical rogue 
+says here that old men have grey beards, that 
+their faces are wrinkled, their eyes purging 
+thick amber and plum-tree gum and that they 
+have a plentiful lack of wit, together with 
+most weak hams: all which, sir, though I 
+most powerfully and potently believe, yet I 
+hold it not honesty to have it thus set down, 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+a 
+1021 
+
+
+for yourself, sir, should be old as I am, if 
+like a crab you could go backward. 
+
+Pol. [Aside] Though this be madness, yet 
+there is method in’t. Will you walk out of 
+the air, my lord? 
+
+Ham. Into my grave. 210 
+
+Pol. Indeed, that is out o' the air. [Aside] 
+How pregnant sometimes his replies are! a 
+happiness that often madness hits on, which 
+reason and sanity could not so prosperously be 
+delivered of. I will leave him, and suddenly 
+contrive the means of meeting between him 
+and my daughter—My honourable lord, | 
+will most humbly take my leave of you, 
+
+Ham. You cannot, sir, take from me any 
+thing that I will more willingly part withal: 
+except my life, except my life, except my 
+life. 
+
+
+Pol. Fare you well, my lord. 
+Ham. These tedious old fools! 
+Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN, 
+
+
+Pol. You go to seek the Lord Hamlet; 
+there he is. 
+Ros. [To Polonius] God save you, sir! 
+
+
+[Exit Polonius. 
+Guil. My honoured lord! 
+Ros. My most dear lord! 
+
+
+Ham. My excellent good friends! How 
+dost thou, Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz! 
+Good lads, how do ye both? 230 
+
+
+Ros. As the indifferent children of the 
+earth. 
+Guil. Happy, in that we are not over- 
+happy ; 
+
+
+On fortune’s cap we are not the very button. 
+
+Ham. Nor the soles of her shoe? 
+
+Ros. Neither, my lord. 
+
+Ham. Then you live about her waist, or 
+in the middle of her favours? 
+
+Guil. ‘Faith, her privates we. 
+
+Ham. In the secret parts of fortune? O, 
+most true; she is a strumpet. What's the 
+news? 
+
+Ros. None, my lord, but that the world’s 
+grown honest. 
+
+Ham. Then is doomsday near: but your 
+news is not true. Let me question more in 
+particular: what have you, my good friends, 
+deserved at the hands of fortune, that she 
+sends you to prison thither? 
+
+Guil. Prison, my lord! 
+
+Ham. Denmark's a prison. 
+
+Ros. Then is the world one. 250 
+
+Ham. A goodly one; in which there are 
+many confines, wards and dungeons, Den- 
+mark being one o’ the worst. 
+
+Ros. We think not so, my lord, 
+
+
+{022 HAMLET [Acr II, Sc. Il 
+
+
+the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, 
+this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, 
+this brave o’erhanging firmament, this ma- 
+jestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it 
+appears no other thing to me than a foul and 
+pestilent congregation of vapours. What a 
+piece of work is a man! how noble in rea- 
+son! how infinite in faculty! in form and 
+moving how express and admirable! in ac- 
+tion how like an angel! in apprehension how 
+like a god! the beauty of the world! the 
+paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what 
+is this quintessence of dust? man delights 
+not me: no, nor woman neither, though by 
+your smiling you seem to say so. 
+
+Ros, My lord, there was no such stuff in 
+my thoughts. 
+
+Ham. Why did you laugh then, when I 
+said ‘man delights not me’? “ 
+
+Ros, To think, my lord, if you delight not 
+in man, what lenten entertainment the players 
+shall receive from you: we coted them on 
+the way; and hither are they coming, to offer 
+you service. 
+
+Ham. He that plays the king shall be 
+welcome; his majesty shall have tribute of 
+me; the adventurous knight shall use his foil 
+and target; the lover shall not sigh gratis; the 
+humorous man shall end his part in peace; 
+the clown shall make those laugh whose lungs 
+are tickle o’ the sere; and the lady shall say 
+her mind freely, or the blank verse shall halt 
+for't. What players are they? 340 
+
+Ros. Even those you were wont to take 
+delight in, the tragedians of the city. 
+
+Ham. How chances it they travel? their 
+residence, both’ in reputation and profit, was 
+better both ways. 
+
+Ros. I think their inhibition comes by the 
+means of the late innovation. 
+
+Ham. Do they hold the same estimation 
+they did when I was in the city? are they so 
+followed > 350 
+
+Ros. -No, indeed, are they not. 
+
+Ham. How comes it? do they grow rusty? 
+
+Ros. Nay, their endeavour keeps in the 
+wonted pace: but there is, sir, an aery of chil- 
+dren, little eyases, that cry out on the top of 
+question, and are most tyrannically clapped 
+for 't: these are now the fashion, and so be- 
+
+
+Ham. Why, then, ’tis none to you; for 
+there is nothing either good or bad, but think- 
+ing makes it so: to me it is a prison. 
+
+Ros. Why then, your ambition makes it 
+one; tis too narrow for your mind. 259 
+
+Ham. O God, I could be bounded in a 
+nutshell and count myself a king of infinite 
+space, were it not that I have bad dreams. 
+
+Guil. Which dreams indeed are ambition, 
+for the very substance of the ambition is 
+merely the shadow of a dream. 
+
+Ham. A dream itself is but a shadow. 
+
+Ros. Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy 
+and light a quality that it is but a shadow’s 
+shadow. 
+
+Ham. Then are our beggars bodies, and 
+our monarchs and outstretched heroes the 
+beggars’ shadows. Shall we to the court? for, 
+by my fay, I cannot reason. 
+
+Ros. 
+
+Guil. § 
+
+Ham. No such matter: I will not sort you 
+with the rest of my servants, for, to speak to 
+you like an honest man, I am most dreadfully 
+attended. But, in the beaten way of friend- 
+ship, what make you at Elsinore? 
+
+Ros. To visit you, my lord; no other oc- 
+casion, 279 
+
+Ham. Beggar that I am, I am even poor 
+in thanks; but I thank you: and sure, dear 
+friends, my thanks are too dear a halfpenny. 
+
+ere you not sent for? Is it your own in- 
+clining? Is it a free visitation? Come, deal 
+justly with me: come, come; nay, speak. 
+
+Guil, What should we say, my lord? 
+
+Ham. Why, any thing, but to the purpose. 
+You were sent for; and there is a kind of 
+confession in your looks which your mod- 
+esties have not craft enough to colour: I know 
+the good king and queen have sent for you. 291 
+
+Ros. To what end, my lord? 
+
+Ham. That you must teach me. But let 
+me conjure you, by the rights of our fellow- 
+ship, by the consonancy of our youth, by the 
+obligation of our ever-preserved love, and by 
+what more dear a better proposer could charge 
+you withal, be even and direct with me, 
+whether -you were sent for, or no? 
+
+Ros. [Aside to Guil.] What say you? 300 
+
+Ham. [Aside] Nay, then, I have an eye 
+
+
+We ‘Ill wait upon you, 
+
+
+of you.—If you love me, hold not off. 
+
+Guil. My lord, we were sent for. 
+
+Ham. 1 will tell you why; so shall my 
+anticipation prevent your discovery, and your 
+secrecy to the king and queen moult no 
+feather. I have of late—but wherefore I 
+know not—lost all my mirth, forgone all cus- 
+fom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heav- 
+
+
+iy with my disposition that this goodly frame, | 
+
+
+rattle the common stages—so they call them— 
+that many wearing rapiers are afraid of 
+goose-quills and dare scarce come thither, 360 
+
+Ham. What, are they children? who main- 
+tains "em? how are they escoted? Will they 
+pursue the quality no longer than they can 
+sing? will they not say afterwards, if they 
+should grow themselves to common players— 
+as it is most like, if their means are no better 
+
+
+Act II, Sc. 1] 
+
+
+| _—their writers do them wrong, to make them 
+exclaim against their own. succession ? 
+
+Ros. *Faith, there has been much to do on 
+both sides; and the nation holds it no sin to 
+tarre them to controversy: there was, for a 
+while, no money bid for argument, unless the 
+poet and the player went to cuffs in the 
+question. 
+
+Ham. Is’t possible? 
+
+Guil. O, there has been much throwing 
+about of brains. 
+
+Ham. Do the boys carry it away? 
+
+
+Ros. Ay, that they do, my lord; Hercules’ 
+
+
+and his load too. 379 
+Ham. It is not very strange; for mine 
+uncle is king of Denmark, and these that 
+would make mows at him while my father 
+lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, an hundred 
+ducats a-piece for his picture in little. ‘Sblood, 
+there is something in this more than natural, 
+
+if philosophy could find it out. 
+[Flourish of trumpets within. 
+
+Guil. There are the players. 
+
+Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcome to 
+Elsinore. Your hands, come then: the ap- 
+purtenance of welcome is fashion and cere- 
+mony: let me comply with you in this garb, 
+lest my extent to the players, which, I tell you, 
+must show fairly outward, should more ap- 
+pear like entertainment than yours. You are 
+welcome: but my uncle-father and aunt- 
+mother are deceived. 
+
+Guil. In what, my dear lord? 
+
+Ham. 1 am but mad _ north-north-west: 
+when the wind is southerly I know a hawk 
+from a handsaw. 
+
+
+Re-enter PoLonius. 
+
+
+Pol. Well be with you, gentlemen! 
+
+Ham. Hark you, Guildenstern; and you 
+too: at each ear a hearer: that great baby you 
+see there is not yet out of his swaddling- 
+clouts. 
+
+Ros. Happily he’s the second time come 
+to them; for they say an old man is twice a 
+child. 
+
+Ham. I will prophesy he comes to tell me 
+of the players; mark it. You say right, sir: 
+o’ Monday morning; "twas so indeed. 
+
+Pol. My lord, Uhave news to tell you. 
+
+Ham. My lord, I have news to tell you. 
+When Rosctus was an actor in Rome,— 410 
+
+Pol. The actors are:come hither, my lord. 
+
+Ham, Buz, buz! 
+
+ol. Upon mine honour,— 
+
+Ham. Then came each actor on his ass,— 
+
+Pol. The best actors in the world, either 
+for tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastor- 
+al-comical, historical-pastoral, _ tragical-his- 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+Ne 
+1023 
+
+
+torical, tragical - comical - historical - pastoral, 
+scene individable, or poem unlimited: Seneca 
+cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus too light. 
+For the law of writ and the liberty, these are 
+the only men. 421 
+Ham. O Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a 
+treasure hadst thou! 
+Pol. What a treasure had he, my lord? 
+Ham. Why, 
+“One fair daughter, and no more, 
+The which he loved passing well.’ 
+Pol. [Aside] Still on my daughter. 
+Ham, Am | not 1’ the right, old Jephthah? 
+Pol. If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I 
+have a daughter that I love passing well. 431 
+Ham. Nay, that follows not. 
+Pol. What follows, then, my lord? 
+Ham. Why, 
+‘As by lot, God wot, 
+and then, you know, 
+“It came to pass, as most like it was,’-— 
+the first row of the pious chanson will show 
+you more; for look, where my abridgement 
+
+
+comes. 439 
+Enter four or five Players. 
+
+
+You are welcome, masters; welcome all. I 
+am glad to see thee well. Welcome, good 
+friends. O, my old friend! thy face is val- 
+anced since I saw thee last: comest thou to 
+beard me in Denmark? What, my young 
+lady and mistress! By’r lady, your lady- 
+ship is nearer to heaven than when I saw you 
+last, by the altitude of a chopine. Pray God, 
+your voice, like a piece of uncurrent gold, be 
+not cracked within the ring. Masters, you are 
+all welcome. We'll e’en to't like French 
+falconers, fly at any thing we see: we'll have 
+a speech straight: come, give us a taste of 
+your quality; come, a passionate speech. 
+First Play. What speech, my lord? 
+Ham. I ‘heard thee speak me a speech 
+once, but’ it was never acted; or, if it was, not 
+above once; for the play, I remember, pleased 
+not the million; “twas caviare to the general: 
+but it was—as I received it, and others, whose 
+judgements in such matters cried in the top 
+of mine—an excellent play, well digested in 
+the scenes, set down with as much modesty as 
+cunning. I remember, one said there were no 
+sallets in the lines to make the matter savoury, 
+nor no matter in the phrase that might indict 
+the author of affectation; but called it an 
+honest method, as wholesome as sweet, and by 
+very much more handsome than fine. One 
+speech in it I chiefly loved: twas AZneas’ tale 
+to Dido; and thereabout of it especially, 
+where he» speaks of Priam’s slaughter: if. it 
+
+
+1024 
+
+
+live in your memory, begin at this line: let 
+me see, let me see— 47| 
+“The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian 
+beast, — 
+it is not so:—it begins with Pyrrhus:— 
+“The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms, 
+Black as his purpose, did the night resem- 
+le 
+When he lay couched in the ominous horse, 
+Hath now this dread and black complexion 
+smear’d 
+With heraldry more dismal; head to foot 
+Now is he total gules; horridly trick’d 
+With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, 
+sons, 480 
+Baked and impasted with the parching 
+streets, 
+That lend a tyrannous and damned light 
+To their lord’s murder: roasted in wrath 
+
+
+and fre, 
+And thus o’er-sized with coagulate gore, 
+With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish 
+Pyrrhus 
+
+
+Old grandsire Priam seeks.” 
+So, proceed you. 
+Pol. ‘Fore God, my lord, well spoken, 
+with good accent and good discretion. 
+First Play. ‘Anon he finds him 
+Striking too short at Greeks; his antique 
+sword, 49] 
+Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls, 
+Repugnant to command: unequal match’d, 
+Pyrrhus at Priam drives; in rage strikes 
+
+
+wide; 
+But with the whiff and wind of his fell 
+sword 
+The unnerved father falls. Then senseless 
+Ilium, 
+
+
+Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top 
+
+Stoops to his base, and with a_ hideous 
+crash 
+
+Takes prisoner Pyrrhus’ ear: for, lo! his 
+sword, 
+
+Which was declining on the milky head 500 
+
+Of reverend Priam, seem’d i’ the air to 
+stick: 
+
+So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood, 
+
+And like a neutral to his will and matter, 
+
+Did nothing. 
+
+But, as we often see, against some storm, 
+
+A silence in the heavens, the rack stand 
+still, : 
+
+The bold winds speechless and the orb 
+
+
+below 
+
+As hush as death, anon the dreadful thun- 
+der 
+
+Doth rend the region, so, after Pyrrhus’ 
+
+
+pause, 
+Aroused vengeance sets him new a-work; 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+a os 
+/ Pn. 
+
+
+= 
+
+
+[Act HI, Sc. Il 
+
+
+And never did the Cyclops’ hammers fall 
+
+On Mars’s armour forged for proof eterne 
+
+With less remorse than Pyrrhus’ bleeding 
+
+sword 
+
+Now falls on Priam. 
+
+Out, out, thou strumpet, Fortune! 
+
+gods, 
+
+In general synod, take away her power; 
+
+Break all the spokes and fellies from her 
+
+wheel, 
+
+And bowl the round nave down the hill of 
+
+heaven, a. 
+
+As low as to the fiends!’ 
+
+Pol. This is too long. 520 
+
+Ham. It shall to the barber's, with your 
+beard. Prithee, say on: he’s for a jig or a 
+tale of bawdry, or he sleeps: say on: come 
+to Hecuba. 
+
+First Play. ‘But who, O, who had seen 
+the mobled queen—’ 
+
+Ham. “The mobled queen?’ 
+
+Pol. That's good; ‘mobled queen’ is good. 
+
+Fist Play. ‘Run barefoot up and down 
+
+threatening the flames 
+
+With bisson rheum; a clout upon that head 
+
+Where late the diadem stood, and for a 
+
+robe, 
+
+About her lank and all o’er-teemed loins. 
+
+A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up; 
+
+Who this had seen, with tongue in venom 
+
+steep’d, 
+
+‘Gainst Fortune's state would treason have 
+
+pronouneed: 
+
+But if the gods themselves did see her then 
+
+When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious 
+
+sport 
+
+In mincing with his sword her husband's 
+
+limbs, 
+
+The instant burst of clamour that she made, 
+
+Unless things mortal move them not at all, 
+
+Would have made milch the burning eyes 
+
+of heaven, 540 
+
+And passion in the gods.” 
+
+Pol. Look, whether he has not turned his 
+colour and has tears in's eyes. Pray you, no 
+more. 
+
+Ham. "Tis well; I'll have thee speak out 
+the rest soon. Good my lord, will you see the 
+players well bestowed? Do you hear, let 
+them be well used; for they are the abstract 
+and brief chronicles of the time: after your 
+death you were better have a bad epitaph than 
+their ill report while you live. 
+
+Pol. My lord, I will use them according to 
+their desert. 
+
+Ham. God's bodykins, man, much better: 
+use every man after his desert, and who 
+should ‘scape whipping? Use them after 
+your own honour and dignity: the less they 
+
+
+All you 
+
+
+; 
+5 
+c 
+= 
+- 
+: 
+
+
+See ae 
+
+
+cr Ill, Sc. 1] 
+
+
+deserve, the more merit is in your bounty. 
+
+
+Pol. Come, sirs. 559 
+Ham. Follow him, friends: we'll hear a 
+play to-morrow. [Exit Polonius with all the 
+Players but the First.] Dost thou hear me, 
+old friend; can you play the Murder of Gon. 
+Zago >? 
+First Play. Ay, my lord. : 
+Ham. We'll ha’t to-morrow night. You 
+could, for a need, study a speech of some 
+dozen or sixteen lines, which I would set 
+down and insert in’t, could you not? 
+First Play. Ay, my lord. 569 
+Ham. Very well. Follow that lord; and 
+look you mock him not. [Exit First Player.] 
+My good friends, I'l] leave you till night: 
+you are welcome to Elsinore. 
+Ros. Good my lord! 
+Ham. Ay, so, God be wi’ ye; [Exeunt 
+Rosencraniz and Guildenstern.] Now I am 
+alone. 
+O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I! 
+Is it not monstrous that this player here, 
+But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, 
+Could force so his soul to his own conceit 
+That from her working all his visage wann’d, 
+Tears in his eyes, distraction in’s aspect, 58] 
+A broken voice, and his whole function suit- 
+ing 
+With forms to his conceit? and all for noth- 
+ing! 
+For Hecuba! 
+‘What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, 
+That he should weep for her? What would 
+he do, 
+Had he the motive and the cue for Passion 
+That I have? He would drown the stage 
+with tears 
+And cleave the general ear with horrid speech, 
+Make mad the guilty and appal the free, 590 
+Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed 
+The very faculties of eyes and ears. 
+Yet I, 
+A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peal, - 
+Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause, 
+And can say nothing; no, not for a king, 
+Upon whose property and most dear life 
+A damn’d defeat was made. Am I a coward? 
+Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across? 
+Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my 
+face? 
+Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i’ 
+the throat, 601 
+As deep as to the lungs? who does me this? 
+Ha! 
+‘Swounds, I should take it: for it cannot be 
+But I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall 
+To make oppression bitter. or ere this 
+
+
+_ Take them in. 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+1025 
+
+
+I should have fatted all 
+
+With this slave's offal: 
+lain! 
+
+Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless 
+
+
+villain! 
+610 
+
+
+O, vengeance! 
+This is most brave, 
+
+
+the region kites 
+bloody, bawdy yil- 
+
+
+Why, what an ass am I! 
+
+That I, the son of a dear father murder'd, 
+
+Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell, 
+
+Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with 
+words, 
+
+And fall a-cursing, like a very drab, 
+
+A scullion! 
+
+Fie upon 't! foh! 
+heard 
+
+That guilty creatures sitting at a play 
+
+Have by the very cunning of the scene 
+
+Been struck so to the soul that presently 620 
+
+They have proclaim’d their malefactions; 
+
+For murder, though it have no tongue, will 
+speak 
+
+With most miraculous organ. I'll have these 
+players 
+
+Play something like the murder of my father 
+
+Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks; 
+
+I'll tent him to the quick: if he but blench, 
+
+I know my course. The spirit that I have 
+seen 
+
+May be the devil: and the devil hath power 
+
+To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps 
+
+Out of my weakness and my melancholy, 630 
+
+As he is very potent with such spirits, 
+
+Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds 
+
+More relative than this: the play ’s the thing 
+
+Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king. 
+
+[Exit. 
+
+
+About, my brain! I have 
+
+
+ACT III. 
+
+
+Scene I. A room in the casile. 
+
+
+Enter Kinc, Queen, Potontus, OPHELIA, 
+ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN. 
+King. And can you, by no drift of circum- 
+stance, 
+Get from him why he puts on this confusion, 
+Grating so harshly all his days of quiet 
+With turbulent and dangerous lunacy ? 
+Ros. He does confess he feels himself 
+distracted; 
+But from what cause he will by no means 
+speak. 
+Guil. ‘Nor do we find him forward to be 
+sounded, 
+But, with a crafty madness, keeps aloof, 
+When we would bring him on to some con- 
+fession 
+Of his true state. 
+Queen. Did he receive you well? 10 
+Ros, Most like a gentleman. 
+
+
+1026 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+[Acr III, Sc. I 
+
+
+Guil. But with much forcing of his dis- 
+
+position. 
+
+Ros. Niggard of question; but, of our 
+
+demands, 
+Most free in his reply. 
+
+Queen, Did you assay him 
+To any pastime? 
+
+Ros. Madam, it so fell out, that certain 
+
+players 
+We o'er-raught on the way: of these we 
+told him; 
+And there did seem in him a kind of joy 
+To hear of it: they are about the court, 
+And, as | think, they have already order 20 
+This night to play before him. 
+
+Pol. ‘Tis most true: 
+And he beseech’d me to entreat your majesties 
+To hear and see the matter. 
+
+King. With all my heart; and it doth 
+
+much content me 
+To hear him so inclined. 
+Good gentlemen, give him a further edge, 
+And drive his purpose on to these delights. 
+
+Ros. We shall, my lord. 
+
+[Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. 
+
+King. Sweet Gertrude, leave us too; 
+For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither, 
+That he, as "twere by accident, may here 30 
+Affront Ophelia: 
+
+Her father and myself, lawful espials, 
+Will so bestow ourselves that, seeing, unseen, 
+We may of their encounter frankly judge, 
+And gather by him, as he is behaved, 
+If "t be the affliction of his love or no 
+That thus he suffers for. 
+Queen, I shall obey you. 
+And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish 
+That your good beauties be the happy cause 
+Of Hamlet's wildness: so shall ] hope your 
+Virtues 40 
+Will bring him to his wonted way again, 
+To both your honours. 
+Oph. Madam, I wish it may. [Exif Queen. 
+Pol. Ophelia, walk you here. Gracious, 
+so please you, 
+We will bestow ourselves. [To Ophelia] Read 
+on this book; 
+That show of such an exercise may colour 
+Your loneliness. We are oft to blame in this,— 
+"Tis too much proved—that with devotion’s 
+visage 
+And pious action we do sugar o'er 
+The devil himself. 
+
+King. [Aside] O, ‘tis too true! 
+
+How smart a lash that speech doth give my 
+conscience! 5 
+
+The harlot’s cheek, beautied with plastering 
+art, 
+
+Ts not more ugly to the thing that helps it 
+
+
+Than is my deed to my most painted word: 
+O heavy burthen! 
+Pol. I hear him coming: let’s withdraw, 
+my lord. [Exeunt King and Polonius, 
+
+
+Enter HAMLET. 
+
+
+Ham. To be, or not to be: that is the ques- 
+hon: 
+Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer 
+The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, 
+Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, 
+And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; 
+No more; and by a sleep to say we end 61 
+The heart-ache and the thousand natural 
+shocks 
+That flesh is heir to, ‘tis a consummation 
+Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; 
+To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there ’s the 
+rub; 
+For in that sleep of death what dreams may 
+come 
+When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, 
+Must give us pause: there's the respect 
+That makes calamity of so long life; 
+For who would bear the whips and scorns of 
+time, 70 
+The oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s con- 
+tumely, 
+The pangs of despised love, the law’s delay, 
+The insolence of office and the spurns 
+That patient merit of the unworthy takes, 
+When he himself might his quietus make 
+With a bare bodkin? who would fardels 
+bear, 
+To grunt and sweat under a weary life, 
+But that the dread of something after death, 
+The undiscover’d country from whose bourn 
+No traveller returns, puzzles the will 80 
+And makes us rather bear those ills we have 
+Than fly to others that we know not of > 
+Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; 
+And thus the native hue of resolution 
+Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought, 
+And enterprises of great pitch and moment 
+With this regard their currents turn awry, 
+And lose the name of action —Soft you now! 
+The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons 
+Be all my sins remember'd. 
+Oph. Good my lord, 90 
+How does your honour for this many a day? 
+Ham. 1 humbly thank you; well, well, 
+
+
+well. 
+Oph. My lord, I have remembrances of 
+yours, , 
+
+
+0| That I have longed long to re-deliver; 
+
+
+I pray you, now receive them. 
+am. No, not I; 
+I never gave you aught. 
+
+
+q 
+
+
+~ Act Ill, Sc. I] 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+1027 
+
+
+Oph. My honour’d lord, you know right 
+well you did; 
+
+
+And, with them, words of so sweet breath 
+composed 
+
+As made the things more rich: their perfume 
+lost, 
+
+
+Take these again; for to the noble mind 100 
+Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind. 
+There, my lord. 
+
+Ham. Ha, ha! are you honest? 
+
+Oph. My lord? 
+
+Ham. Are you fair? 
+
+Oph. What means your lordship? 
+
+Ham. That if you be honest and fair, your 
+honesty should admit no discourse to your 
+beauty. 
+
+Oph. Could beauty, my lord, have better 
+commerce than with honesty > 110 
+
+Ham. Ay, truly; for the power of beauty 
+will sooner transform honesty from what it is 
+
+
+to a bawd than the force of honesty can: 
+
+
+translate beauty into his likeness: this was 
+sometime a paradox, but now the time gives 
+it proof. I did love you once. 
+
+Oph. Indeed, my lord, you made me be- 
+leve so. 
+
+Ham. You should not have believed me; 
+for virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock 
+but we shall relish of it: I loved you not. 120 
+
+Oph. I was the more deceived. 
+
+Ham. Get thee to a nunnery: why wouldst 
+thou be a breeder of sinners? I am myself 
+
+
+indifferent honest; but yet I could accuse me, 
+of such things that it were better my mother 
+
+
+had not borne me: I am very proud, re- 
+vengeful, ambitious, with more offences at my 
+beck than I have thoughts to put them in, 
+
+
+imagination to give them shape, or time to act. 
+
+
+What should such fellows as I do! 
+
+
+them in. 
+crawling between earth and heaven? We are 
+arrant knaves, all; believe none of us. Go 
+
+
+thy ways to a nunnery. Where’s your father?’ 
+
+
+Oph. At home, my lord. 
+
+
+Ham. Let the doors be shut upon him, that: 
+
+
+he may play the fool no where but in’s own 
+house. Farewell. ; 
+Oph. O, help him, you sweet heavens! 
+Ham, If thou dost marry, I ‘Il give thee this 
+plague for thy dowry: be thou as chaste as 
+ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape cal- 
+umny. Get thee to a nunnery, go: farewell. 
+
+
+~ Or, if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool; 
+
+
+for wise men know well enough what monsters 
+you make of them. To a nunnery, go, and! 
+quickly too. Farewell. © 
+Oph. O heavenly powers, restore him! 
+Ham. | have heard of your paintings too,| 
+well enough; God has given you one face,: 
+and you make yourselves another: you jig, you. 
+
+
+‘| Nor what he spake, though it lack’d: form. a 
+
+
+amble, and you lisp, and nick-name God’s 
+
+
+| creatures, and make your wantonness your 
+
+
+ignorance, Go to, I ‘ll no more on’t; it hath 
+made me mad. _ I say, we will have no more 
+marriages: those that are married already, all 
+but one, shall live; the rest shall keep as they 
+
+
+are. To a nunnery, go. [Exit. 
+
+Oph. O, what a noble mind is here o’er- 
+thrown! 
+
+The courtier’s, soldier's, scholar’s, eye, tongue, 
+sword; 
+
+
+The expectancy and rose of the fair state, 160 
+The glass of fashion and the mould of form; 
+The observed of all observers, quite, quite 
+down! 
+And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, 
+That suck'd the honey of his music vows, 
+Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, 
+Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and 
+harsh; : 
+That unmatch’d form and feature of blow 
+youth * 
+Blasted with ecstasy: O, woe is me, : 
+To have seen what I have seen, see what I see! 
+
+
+Re-enter Kine and Potonius, 
+
+
+King. Love! his affections do not that way 
+tend; 170 
+
+
+little, 
+Was not like madness, There ’s something in 
+his soul, 
+O'er which his melancholy sits on brood; 
+And I do doubt the hatch and the disclose 
+Will be some danger: which for to prevent, 
+I have in quick determination 
+Thus set it down: he shall with speed: to 
+England, 
+For the demand of our neglected tribute: 
+Haply the seas and country different 
+With variable objects shall expel 
+This something-settled matter in his heart. 
+Whereon his brains still beating puts him thus 
+From fashion of himself, What think you 
+on 't? 
+
+Pol. It shall do well: but yet do I believe 
+The origin and commencement of his grief 
+Sprung from neglected love. How now 
+
+Ophelia! 
+
+You need not tell us what Lord Hamlet said; 
+We heard it all. My lord, do as you please; 
+But, if you hold it fit, after the play 
+
+Let his queen mother all alone entreat him 190 
+To show his grief: let her be round with him; 
+And I'll be placed, so please you, in the ear 
+Of all their conference. If she find him not, 
+To England send him, or confine him where 
+
+
+Your wisdom best shall think. 
+
+
+180 
+
+
+1928 
+
+
+King. It shall be so: 
+Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. A hall in the castle. 
+Enter HaMtet and Players, 
+
+
+Ham, Speak the speech, I pray you, as | 
+pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue: 
+but if you mouth it, as many of your players 
+do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines. 
+Nor do not saw the air too much with your 
+‘hand, thus, but use all gently; for in the very 
+torrent, tempest, and, as | may say, the whirl- 
+wind of passion, you must acquire and beget a 
+temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it 
+offends me to the soul to hear a robustious 
+periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, 
+io very rags, to split the ears of the ground- 
+lings, who for the most part are capable of 
+aothing but inexplicable dumb-shows and 
+‘noise: 1 would have such a fellow whipped 
+for o’erdoing Termagant; it out-herods Herod: 
+pray you, avoid it. 
+
+First Play. 1 warrant your honour. 
+
+Ham. Be not too tame neither, but let your 
+ewn discretion be your tutor: suit the action to 
+the word, the word to the action; with this 
+special observance, that you o’erstep not the 
+tnodesty of nature: for any thing so overdone 
+is from the purpose of playing, whose end, 
+both at the first and now, was and is, to hold 
+as ‘twere, the mirror up to nature; to show 
+virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, 
+and “the ‘very age and body of the time his 
+form and pressure. Now this overdone, or 
+come tardy off, though it make the unskilful 
+‘augh, cannot but make the judicious grieve ; 
+the censure of the which one must in your 
+allowance o’erweigh a whole theatre of others. 
+O, there be players that I have seen play, and 
+heard others praise, and that highly, not to 
+speak it profanely, that, neither having the 
+accent of Christians nor the gait of Christian, 
+pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed 
+that I have thought some of nature's journey- 
+men had made men and made them well, 
+they imitated humanity so abominably. 
+
+First Play. 1 hope we have reformed that 
+indifferently with us, sir. 4] 
+
+Ham. O, reform it altogether. And let 
+those that play your clowns speak no more 
+than is set down for them; for there be of 
+them that will themselves laugh, to set on some 
+quantity of barren spectators to laugh too; 
+though, in the mean time, some necessary ques- 
+tion of the play be then to be considered: 
+that's villanous, and shows: a most pitiful am- 
+bition in the fool that uses it. Go, make you 
+ready, [Exeunt Players. 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+aA. 
+
+
+ae 
+
+
+[Acr III, Se, li 
+
+
+Enter Potonius, RosENcRANTZ, and 
+GUILDENSTERN. 
+
+
+How now, my lord! will the king hear this 
+piece of work? 
+Pol. And the queen too, and that presently. 
+Ham. Bid the players make haste. [Exit 
+Polonius.] Will you two help to hasten them? 
+ae t We will, my lord. 
+[Exeunt Rosenerantz and Guildenstern, 
+
+
+Ham. What ho! Horatio! 
+Enter Horatio, 
+
+
+Hor. Here, sweet lord, at your service, 
+Ham. Horatio, thou art e’en as just a man 
+As e’er my conversation coped withal. 60 
+Hor. O, my dear lord,— 
+Ham. Nay, do not think I flatter; 
+For what advancement may I hope from thee 
+That no revenue hast but thy good spirits, 
+To feed and clothe thee? Why should the 
+poor be flatter’d? 
+
+No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, 
+
+And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee 
+
+Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou 
+hear > 
+
+Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice 
+
+And could of men distinguish, her election 
+
+Hath seal’d thee for herself; for thou hast 
+been 
+
+As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing, 7] 
+
+A man that fortune’s buffets and rewards 
+
+Hast ta’en' with equal thanks: and blest are 
+those 
+
+Whose blood and judgement are so well com- 
+mingled, 
+
+That they are not a pipe for fortune’s finger 
+
+To sound what stop she please. Give me that 
+man 
+
+ates not passion’s slave, and | will wear 
+
+im 
+
+In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, 
+
+As I do thee.—Something too much of this—— _ 
+
+There is a play to-night before the king; 80 
+
+One scene of it comes near the circumstance. 
+
+Which I have told thee of my father’s death: 
+
+I prithee, when thou seest that act afoot, 
+
+Even with the very comment of thy soul 
+
+Observe mine uncle: if his occulted guilt 
+
+Do not itself unkennel in one speech, 
+
+It is a damned ghost that we have seen, 
+
+And my imaginations are as foul 
+
+As Vulcan's stithy. Give him heedful note; 
+
+For I mine eyes will rivet to his face, 90 
+
+And after we will both our judgements join 
+
+In censure of his seeming, 
+
+Hor. Well, my lord: 
+
+If he steal aught the whilst this play is play- 
+ing, 
+
+
+oy 
+
+
+: 
+: 
+
+
+a at ele 
+
+
+_ Act Ill, Sc. I] 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+And ‘scape detecting, I will pay the theft. 
+Ham. They are coming to the play; I must 
+be idle: 
+
+
+Get you a place. 
+
+
+_ Danish march. A flourish. Enter Kune, 
+
+
+QUEEN, PoLonius, OPHELIA, RosEN- 
+CRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, and others. 
+
+
+King. How fares our cousin Hamlet? 
+
+Ham. Excellent, i’ faith; of the chame- 
+leon’s dish: I eat the air, promise-crammed: 
+you cannot feed capons so. 100 
+
+King. I have nothing with this answer, 
+
+
+Hamlet; these words are not mine. 
+
+
+_ wear black, for I'll have a suit of sables. 
+
+
+Ham. No, nor mine now. 
+My lord, you 
+you say? 
+
+Pol. That did I, my lord; and was ac- 
+xounted a good actor. 
+
+Ham. What did you enact? 
+
+Pol. I did enact Julius Cesar: I was killed 
+V the Capitol; Brutus killed me. 
+
+am. It was a brute part of him to kill so 
+vapital a calf there. Be the players ready? 
+
+Ros. Ay, my lord; they stay upon your 
+‘patience. 
+
+Queen. Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit 
+‘by me. 
+
+Ham. No, gcod mother, here's metal more 
+iattractive. 
+
+
+Pol. [To the King] O, ho! do you mark 
+
+
+[To Polonius] 
+
+
+played once i’ the university, 
+
+
+that? 
+
+
+Ham. Lady, shall I lie in your lap? 
+{Lying down at Ophelia’s feet. 
+. Oph. No, my lord. 120 
+‘Ham. \ mean, my head upon your lap? 
+Oph. Ay, my lord. 
+
+
+Ham. Do you think I meant country 
+
+
+- amatters ? 
+
+
+Oph. I think nothing, my lord. 
+Ham. That's a fair thought to lie between 
+
+
+_ anaids’ legs. 
+
+
+Oph. What is, my lord? 
+
+Ham. Nothing. 
+
+Oph. You are merry, my lord. 
+
+Ham. Who, I? 130 
+Oph. Ay, my lord. 
+
+‘Ham. O God, your only jig-maker. What 
+
+
+~ should a man do but be merry? for, look you, 
+
+
+how cheerfully my mother looks, and my 
+‘father died within these two hours. 
+
+‘Oph. Nay, ‘tis twice two months, my lord. 
+
+Ham. So long? Nay then, let the vail 
+‘heavens! die two months ago, and not for- 
+‘gotten yet! Then there’s hope a great man's 
+memory may outlive his life half a year: but, 
+by 'r lady, he must build churches, then; or 
+telse shall he suffer not thinking on, with the 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+1629 
+
+
+hobby-horse, whose epitaph is ‘For, O, for CG, 
+the hobby-horse is forgot.’ 
+
+
+Hautboys play. The dumb-show enters. 
+
+
+Enter a King and a Queen very lovingly; the 
+Queen embracing him, and he her. She 
+kneels, and makes show of protestalion untc 
+him. He takes her up, and declines his 
+head upon her neck: lays him down upor 
+a bank of flowers: she, seeing him asleep, 
+leaves him. Anon comes in a fellow, takes 
+off his crown, kisses it, and pours poison in 
+the King’s ears, and exit.. The Queen re- 
+turns; finds the King dead, and makes pas- 
+sionate action. The Poisoner, with some 
+two or three Mutes, comes in again, seem- 
+ing to lament with her. The dead body. is 
+carried away. The Poisoner wooes the 
+Queen with gifts: she seems loath and un- 
+willing awhile, but in the end accepts his 
+love, [Exeuni. 
+Oph. What means this, my lord? 
+
+Ham. Marry, this is miching mallecho; it 
+means mischief, } 
+
+Oph. Belike this show imports the argu- 
+ment of the play. 150 
+
+
+Enter Prologve. 
+
+
+Ham. We shall know by this fellow: the 
+players cannot keep counsel; they ‘Il tell all. 
+Oph. Willhe tell us what this show meant? 
+Ham. Ay, or any show that you'll show 
+him: be not you ashamed to show, he'll not 
+shame to tell you what it means. 
+Oph. You are naught, you are naught: ! ‘I! 
+make the play. 
+Pro. For us, and for our tragedy, 
+Here stooping to your clemency, 160 
+We beg your hearing patiently. [Exit. 
+Ham. Is this a prologue, or the posy of @ 
+ring > 
+Oph. ’Tis brief, my lord. 
+
+
+Ham. As woman's love. 
+Enter two Players, King and Queen, 
+P, King. Full thirty times hath Phoebus‘ 
+
+
+cart gone round 
+
+Neptune’s salt wash and Tellus’ orbed 
+ground, 
+
+And thirty dozen moons with borrow'd 
+sheen 
+
+About the world have times twelve thirties 
+been, : 
+
+Since love our hearts and Hymen did our 
+hands 
+
+Unite commutual in most sacred bands. 170 
+
+P. Queen. So many juorneys may the 
+
+sun and moon 
+
+
+4039 
+
+
+Make again count o'er ere love be done! 
+
+But, woe is me, you are so sick of late, 
+
+So far from cheer and from your former 
+state, 
+
+That I distrust you. Yet, though | distrust, 
+
+Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must: 
+
+For women’s fear and love holds quantity ; 
+
+In either aught, or in extremity. 
+
+Now, what my love is, proof hath made 
+you know; 
+
+And as my love is sized, my fear-is so: 180 
+ere love is great, the littlest doubts are 
+fear; 
+
+Where little fears grow great, great love 
+grows there, 
+
+P. King. ‘Faith, I must leave thee, love, 
+
+and shortly too; 
+
+My operant powers their functions leave to 
+
+
+oO: 
+And thou shalt live in this fair world be- 
+# hind, 
+Honour'd, beloved; and haply one as kind 
+For husband shalt thou— 
+* P. Queen. O, confound the rest! 
+Such love must needs be treason in my 
+: breast: 
+In second husband let me be accurst! 189 
+None wed the second but who kill’d the 
+first. 
+“Ham. [Aside] Wormwood, wormwood. 
+P. Queen. The instances that second 
+marriage move 
+Are base respects of thrift, but none of 
+love: 
+A second time I kill my husband dead, 
+When second husband kisses me in bed. 
+P. King. I do believe you think what 
+, now you speak; 
+But what we do determine oft we break. 
+‘Purpose is but the slave to memory, 
+©f violent birth, but poor validity : 
+Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the 
+tree; 200 
+But fall, unshaken, when they mellow be. 
+Most necessary ‘tis that we forget 
+To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt: 
+What to ourselves in passion we propose, 
+The passion ending, doth the purpose lose. 
+The violence of either grief or joy 
+Their own enactures with themselves de- 
+stroy: 
+ere joy most revels, grief doth most 
+lament; 
+Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident. 
+This world is not for aye, nor ‘tis not 
+strange 
+'That even our loves should with our for- 
+tunes change; 211 
+For ‘tis a question left us yet to prove, 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+[Acr II, Sc. I 
+
+
+Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune 
+
+
+love. 
+_ The great man down, you mark his favour- 
+ite flies; 
+The poor advanced makes friends of ene- 
+
+
+mies, 
+And hitherto doth love on fortune tend; 
+For who not needs shall never lack a 
+
+friend, 
+And who in want a hollow friend doth try, 
+Directly seasons him his enemy. 
+But, orderly to end where I begun, 220 
+Our wills and fates do so contrary run 
+That our devices still are overthrown; 
+Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of 
+
+
+our own: Z 
+
+So think thou wilt no second husband 
+wed; 
+
+But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is 
+ead. 
+
+
+P. Queen. Nor earth to me give food, 
+nor heaven light! 
+Sport and repose lock from me day and 
+night! 
+To desperation turn my trust and hope! 
+An anchor’s cheer in prison be my scope! 
+Each opposite that blanks the face of joy 
+
+
+Meet what I would have well and - it 
+destroy ! : 
+
+Both here and hence pursue me lasting 
+strife, 
+
+
+If, once a widow, ever I be wife! 
+Ham. If she should break it now! 
+P. King. “Tis deeply sworn, 
+
+leave me here awhile; 
+My spirits grow dull, and fain I would be- 
+
+
+Sweet, 
+
+
+guile 
+The tedious day with sleep, [Sleeps. 
+P. Queen. Sleep rock thy brain; 
+
+
+And never come mischance between us 
+twain! [ Exit. 
+Ham. Madam, how like you this play? 
+Queen. The lady doth protest too much, 
+methinks. 240 
+Ham. O, but she'll keep her word. 
+King. Have you heard the argument? Is 
+
+
+there no offence int? 
+
+
+Ham. No, no, they do but jest, poison in 
+
+
+jest;.no offence i’ the world, 
+
+
+King. What do you call. the play? 
+Ham. The Mouse-trap. Marry, how? Tro- 
+
+
+pically, This play is the image of a murder 
+done in Vienna: Gonzago is the duke’s name; 
+his wife, Baptista; you shall see anon; ‘tis .a. 
+knavish piece of work: but what o’ that? your 
+majesty and we that have free souls, it touches 
+us not: let the galled jade wince, our withers 
+are unwrung. 
+
+
+Enter Lucianus, 
+
+
+“Act Ill, Se. I] 
+
+
+This is one Lucianus, 
+Oph. You are as 
+lord. 
+Ham. { could interpret between you and 
+your love, if I could see the puppets dallying, 
+Oph. You are keen, my lord, you are keen, 
+Ham. It would cost you a groaning to take 
+off my edge. 260 
+Oph. Still better, and worse. : 
+Ham. So you must take your husbands. 
+Begin, murderer; pox, leave thy damnable 
+faces, and begin. Come: ‘the croaking raven 
+doth bellow for revenge,” 
+Luc. Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs 
+fit, and time agreeing; 
+Confederate season, else no creature see- 
+ing; 
+
+
+nephew to the king. 
+good as a chorus, my 
+
+
+Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds col- 
+lected, 
+
+With Hecate’s ban thrice blasted, thrice 
+infected, 
+
+
+Thy natural magic and dire property, 270 
+On wholesome life usurp immediately, ; 
+[Pours the poison into the sleeper’s ears. 
+Ham. He poisons him i’ the garden for’s 
+estate. His name's Gonzago: the story is 
+extant, and writ in choice Italian: you shall 
+see anon how the murderer gets the love of 
+Gonzago’s wife. 
+Oph. The king rises. 
+Ham. What, frighted with false fire! 
+Queen. How fares my lord? 
+Pol. Give o'er the play. 
+King. Give some light: away! 
+‘All. Lights, lights, lights! 
+[Exeunt all but Hamlet and Horatio. 
+_ Ham, Why, let the stricken deer go weep, 
+The hart ungalled play; 
+Or some must watch, while some 
+must sicep: 
+So runs the world away. 
+Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers— 
+if the rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me 
+—with two Provincial’ roses on my razed 
+shoes, get me a fellowship in a cry of players, 
+
+
+sir? 
+290 
+
+
+280 
+
+
+Hor. Half a share. 
+Ham. A whole one, I. 
+For thou dost know, O Damon dear, 
+This realm dismantled was 
+«. Of Jove himself; and now reigns here 
+A very, very—pajock. 
+_Hor. You might have rhymed. 
+Ham. O good Horatio, I'll take the 
+ghost’s word for a thousand pound, Didst 
+Perceive > 
+Hor. Very well, my lord. 
+~ Hams Upon the talk-of the poisoning ?. 300 
+Hor. 1 did very well note him, 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+1031 
+re eS Se 
+Ham. Ah, ha! come, some music! come, 
+the recorders! 
+For if the king like not the comedy, 
+Why, then, belike, he likes it not, perdy, 
+
+
+Come, some music! 
+Re-enter Ros—ENcRANTz and GUILDENSTERN. 
+
+
+Guil. Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word 
+with you. 
+
+Ham. Sir, a whole history. 
+
+Guil. The king, sir,— 
+
+Ham. Ay, sir, what of him? 
+
+Guil. Is in his retirement marvellous dis- 
+tempered. 
+
+Ham. With drink, sir? 
+
+Guil. No, my lord, rather with choler. 
+
+Ham. Your wisdom — should show itself 
+more richer to signify this to his doctor; for, 
+for me to put him to his purgation would per- 
+haps plunge him into far more choler. 319 
+
+Guil. Good my lord, put your discourse 
+into some frame and start not so wildly from 
+my affair. 
+
+Ham. I am tame, sir: pronounce. 
+
+Gurl. The queen, your mother, in most 
+great affliction of spirit, hath sent me to you, 
+
+Ham. You are welcome. 
+
+Guil. Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is 
+not of the right breed. If it shall please you 
+to make me a wholesome answer, I will do 
+your mother’s commandment: if not, your par- 
+don and my return shall be the end of my 
+business. 
+
+Ham. Sir, I cannot. 331 
+
+Cuil. What, my lord? 
+
+Ham. Make you a wholesome answer; 
+my wit’s diseased; but, sir, such answer as | 
+can make, you shall command; or, rather, as 
+you say, my mother: therefore no more, but to 
+the matter: my mother, you say,— 
+
+Ros. Then thus she says; your behaviour 
+hath struck her into amazement and admira- 
+tion. 339 
+
+Ham. O wonderful son, that can so aston- 
+ish a mother! But is there no sequel at the 
+heels of. this mother's admiration? Impart. 
+
+Ros. She desires to speak with you in her 
+closet, ere you go to bed. 
+
+Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times 
+our mother. Have you any further trade with 
+us? 
+
+Ros, .My lord, you once did love me. 
+
+Ham. So I do still, by these pickers and 
+stealers. 349 
+
+Ros. Good my lord, what is your cause of 
+distempet? you do, surely, bar the door upon 
+your own liberty, if you deny your griefs to 
+your friend, 
+
+Ham. Sir, I lack advancement, 
+
+
+310 
+
+
+1032 
+
+
+Ros. How can that be, when you have the 
+voice of the king himself for your succession 
+in Denmark? 
+
+Ham. Ay, sir, but ‘While the grass grows,’ 
+—the proverb is something musty. 59 
+
+
+Re-enter Players with recorders. 
+
+
+O, the recorders! let me see one. To with- 
+draw with you:—why do you go about to re- 
+cover the wind of me, as if you would drive 
+me into a toil? 
+
+Guil. O, my lord, if my duty be too bold, 
+my love is too unmannerly. 
+
+Ham. | do not well understand that. Will 
+you play upon this pipe? 
+
+Guil. My lord, I cannot, 
+
+Ham. | pray you. 
+
+Guil. Believe me, I cannot. 
+
+Ham. | do beseech you. 
+
+Guil. I know no touch of it, my lord. 
+
+Ham. "Tis as easy as lying: govern these 
+ventages with your fingers and thumb, give it 
+breath with your mouth, and it will discourse 
+most eloquent music. Look you, these are the 
+stops. 
+
+Gail. But these cannot I command to any 
+utterance of harmony; I have not the skill. 
+
+Ham. Why, look you now, how unworthy 
+a thing you make of me! You would play 
+upon me; you would seem to know my stops; 
+you would pluck out the heart of my mystery; 
+you would sound me from my lowest note to 
+the top of my compass: and there is much 
+music, excellent voice, in this little organ; yet 
+cannot you make it speak. ‘Sblood, do you 
+think I] am easier to be played on than a 
+pipe? Call me what instrument you will, 
+though you can fret me, yet you cannot play 
+upon me. 
+
+
+370 
+
+
+Enter Potonius. 
+
+
+God bless you, sir! 390 
+
+Pol. My lord, the queen would speak with 
+you, and presently. 
+
+Ham. Do you see yonder cloud that's 
+almost in shape of a camel? 
+
+Pol. By the mass, and ‘tis like a camel, 
+indeed. 
+
+Ham. Methinks it is like a weasel. 
+
+Pol. It is backed like a weasel. 
+
+Ham. Or like a whale? 
+
+Pol. Very like a whale. 399 
+
+Ham. Then I will come to my mother by 
+and by. They fool me to the top of my 
+bent. [ will come by and by. 
+
+Pol. I will say so. 
+
+Ham. By and by is easily said. 
+Polonius.] Leave me, friends. 
+
+[Exeunt all but Hamlet. 
+
+*Tis now the very witching time of night, 
+
+
+[Exit 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+[Act III, Sc. HI 
+
+
+When churchyards yawn and hell itself 
+breathes out 
+
+Contagion to this world: now could | drink 
+hot blood, 
+
+And do such bitter business as the day 
+
+Would quake to look on. Soft! now to my 
+mother. 410 
+
+O heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever 
+
+The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom: 
+
+Let me be cruel, not unnatural: 
+
+I will speak daggers to her, but use none; 
+
+My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites; 
+
+How in my words soever she be shent, 
+
+To give them seals never, my soul, consent! 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+Scene III. A room in the casile. 
+
+
+Enter Kinc, RosENCRANTZ, and 
+GUILDENSTERN. 
+
+
+King. I like him not, nor stands it safe 
+with us 
+To let his madness range. Therefore pre- 
+pare you; 
+
+
+IT your commission will forthwith dispatch, 
+And he to England shall along with you: 
+The terms of our estate may not endure 
+Hazard so near us as doth hourly grow 
+Out of his lunacies. 
+Cuil. We will ourseives provide: 
+Most holy and religious fear it is 
+To keep those many many bodies safe 
+That live and feed upon your majesty. 10 
+Ros. The sirtgle and peculiar life is bound, 
+With all the strength and armour of the 
+mind, ’ 
+To keep itself from noyance; but much more 
+That spirit upon whose weal depend and rest 
+The lives of many. The cease of majesty 
+Dies not alone; but, like a gulf, doth draw 
+What's near it with it: it is a massy wheel, 
+Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount, 
+To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser 
+things 
+Are bribe and adjoin’d; which, when it 
+alls, 
+Each small annexment, petty consequence, 
+Attends the boisterous ruin. Never alone 
+Did the king sigh, but with a general groan. 
+King. Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy 
+voyage; 
+For we will fetters put upon this fear, 
+Which now goes too free-footed. 
+
+
+cca We will haste us, 
+
+
+[Execunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. 
+Enter Potonius. 
+
+
+Pol. My lord, he’s going to his mother's 
+closet: 
+
+
+a 2 
+
+
+of 
+
+
+HII, Sc. IV] 
+
+
+_ Behind the arras | ‘Il convey myself, 
+
+To hear the process; I'll warrant she'll tax 
+him home: 
+
+And, as you said, and wisely was it said, 30 
+
+is meet that some more audience than a 
+
+
+mother, 
+
+Since nature makes them partial, should o’er- 
+ear 
+
+The speech, of vantage. Fare you well; my 
+liege: 
+
+
+{"ll call upon you ere you go to bed, 
+And tell you what I know. 
+King. Thanks, dear my lord, 
+[Exit Polonius, 
+O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven; 
+It hath the primal eldest curse upon 't, 
+A brother’s murder. Pray can I not, 
+Though inclination be as sharp as will: 
+My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent; 40 
+And, like a man to double business bound, 
+I stand in pause where I shall first begin, 
+And both neglect. What if this cursed hand 
+Were thicker than itself with brother's blood, 
+Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens 
+To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves 
+mercy 
+But to confront the visage of offence? 
+And what's in prayer but this two-fold force, 
+To be forestalled ere we come to fall, 49 
+_ Or pardon'd being down? Then I'l! look 
+uD; 
+My fault is past. But, O, what form of 
+prayer 
+; Can serve my term? 
+* murder’ > 
+That cannot be; 
+
+
+4 : 
+4 
+q 
+i 4 
+
+
+‘Forgive me my foul 
+
+
+since I am still possess’d 
+Of those effects for which I did the murder, 
+a My crown, mine own ambition and my queen. 
+___ May one be pardon’d and retain the offence ? 
+In the corrupted currents of this world 
+Offence’s gilded hand may shove by justice, 
+And oft tis seen the wicked prize itself 
+Buys out the law: but ‘tis not so above; 60 
+There is no shuffling, there the action lies 
+In his true nature; and we ourselves com- 
+pell'd, 
+Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, 
+To give in evidence. What then? what 
+rests > 
+Try what repentance can: what can it not? 
+Yet:what can it when one can not repent? 
+O wretched state! O bosom black as death! 
+O limed soul, that, struggling to be free, 
+
+
+Art more engaged! Help, angels! Make 
+assay! 
+
+Bow, stubborn knees; and, heart with strings 
+of steel, 70 
+
+
+Be soft as sinews of the new-korn babe! 
+
+
+All may be well. [Retires and kneels. 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+1033 
+
+
+Enter HaMtet, 
+Ham. Now might I do it pat, now he is 
+
+
+praying; 
+
+And now I'll do’t. And so he goes to 
+eaven; 
+
+And so am I revenged, That would be 
+scann'd: 
+
+
+A villain kills my father; and for that, 
+
+I, his sole son, do this same villain send 
+To heaven. 
+
+O, this is hire and salary, 
+He took my father grossly, 
+
+With all his crimes broad 
+
+
+not revenge, 
+full of bread; 80 
+
+
+blown, as flush as 
+
+
+ay; 
+And how his audit stands who knows save 
+heaven? 
+But in our circumstance and course of thought, 
+"Tis heavy with him: and am I then re- 
+venged, 
+To take him in the 
+When he is fit and 
+No! 
+Up, jawed and know thou a more horrid 
+ent: s 
+When he is drunk asleep, or in his rage, 
+Or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed; 90 
+At gaming, swearing, or about some act 
+That has no relish of salvation in’t; 
+Then trip him, that his heels may kick at 
+eaven, 
+And that his soul may be as damn'’d and 
+black 
+As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays: 
+This physic but prolongs thy sickly days. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+
+King. [Rising] My words fly up, my 
+thoughts remain below: 
+
+Words without thoughts never to heaven go. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+Scene IV. The Queen's closet, 
+Enter QuEEN and Potontus, 
+
+
+purging of his soul, 
+season’d for his passage? 
+
+
+Pol. He will come straight. 
+home to him: 
+Tell him his pranks have been too broad to 
+
+
+Look you lay 
+
+
+bear with, 
+
+And that your grace hath screen’d and stood 
+between 
+
+Much heat and him, I'll sconce me even 
+here. 
+
+
+Pray you, be round with him, 
+Ham. [Within] Mother, mother, mother! 
+ueen, I'll warrant you, 
+Fear me not: withdraw, I hear him coming. 
+
+
+[Polonius, hides behind the arras, 
+Enter HaMtet. 
+Ham. Now, mother, what's the matter? 
+
+
+{034 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+[Acr III, Sc. IV 
+
+
+Queen. Hamlet, thou hast thy father much 
+
+offended. 
+
+Ham. Mother, you have my father much 
+
+offended. | 
+
+Queen. Come, come, you answer with an 
+
+idle tongue. 
+
+Ham. Go, go, you question with a wicked 
+
+tongue, 
+
+Queen. Why, how now, Hamlet! 
+
+am. What's the matter now? 
+
+Queen. Have you forgot me> 
+
+Ham. No, by the rood, not so: 
+You are the queen, your husband’s brother's 
+
+wife; 
+And—would it were not so!—you are my 
+mother. 
+
+Queen. Nay, then, I'll set those to you 
+
+that can speak. 
+
+Ham. Come, come, and sit you down; you 
+
+shall not budge; 
+You go not till J set you up a glass 
+Where you may see the inmost part of you. 20 
+Queen. What wilt thou do? thou wilt not 
+murder me? 
+Help, help, ho! 
+Pol. [Behind] What, ho! help, help, help! 
+Ham. [Drawing] How now! a rat? Dead, 
+for a ducat, dead! 
+[Makes a pass through the arras. 
+
+Pol. [Behind] O, | am slain! 
+
+[Falls and dies. 
+
+Queen. O me, what hast thou done? 
+Ham. Nay, I know not: 
+
+Is it the king? 
+
+Queen. O, what a rash and bloody deed is 
+
+this! 
+
+Ham. A bloody deed! almost as bad, good 
+
+mother, 
+As kill a king, and marry with his brother. 
+
+Queen. As kill a king! 
+
+Ham. Ay, lady, "twas my word. 30 
+[Lifts up the arras and discovers Polonius. 
+ou wretched, rash, intruding fool, fare- 
+
+well! 
+I took thee for thy better: take thy fortune; 
+Thou find’st to be too busy is some danger. 
+Leave wringing of your hands: peace! sit you 
+down, 
+And let me wring your heart; for so I shall, 
+If it be made of penetrable stuff, 
+If damned custom have not brass’d it so 
+That it be proof and bulwark against sense. 
+Queen. What have I done, that thou darest 
+wag thy tongue 
+In noise so rude against me? 
+
+Ham. Such an act 40 
+That blurs the grace and blush of modesty, 
+Calls virtue hypocrite, takes off the rose 
+From the fair forehead of an innocent love 
+
+
+And sets a blister there, makes marriage: 
+vows 
+
+As false as dicers’ oaths: O, such a deed 
+
+As from the body of contraction plucks 
+
+The very soul, and sweet religion makes 
+
+A rhapsody of words: heaven’s face doth 
+glow; / 
+
+Yea, this solidity and compound mass, 
+
+With tristful visage, as against the doom, 
+
+Is thought-sick at the act. 
+
+
+50 
+
+
+Queen. Ay me, what act, 
+That roars so loud, and thunders in the 
+index ? 
+Ham. Look here, upon this picture, and 
+on. this, 
+
+
+The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. 
+See, what a grace was seated on this brow; 
+Hyperion’s curls; the front of Jove himself; 
+An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; 
+A station like the herald Mercury 
+New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill; 
+A combination and a form indeed, 
+Where every god did seem to set his seal, 
+To give the world assurance of a man: 
+This was your husband. Look you now, what 
+follows: 
+Here is your husband; like a mildew’d ear, 
+Blasting his wholesome brother. Have. you 
+eyes? 
+Could you on this fair mountain leave to 
+feed, 
+And batten on this moor? 
+eyes? 
+
+You cannot calfit love; for at your age 
+The hey-day in the blood is tame, 
+humble, 2 
+And waits upon the judgement: and ws 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+Ha! have you 
+
+
+it''s 
+
+
+judgement 
+
+Would step from this to this? Sense, sure, 
+you have, 
+
+Else could you not have motion; but sure, 
+that sense 
+
+
+Is apoplex’d; for madness would not err, 
+
+Nor sense to ecstasy was ne'er so thrall’d 
+
+But it reserved some quantity of choice, 
+
+To serve in such a difference. What devil 
+was 't 
+
+That thus hath cozen’d you at hoodman- 
+blind? 
+
+Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight, 
+
+Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all, 
+
+
+Or but a sickly part of one true sense 80 
+Could not so mope. 
+O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious 
+
+
+hell, 
+If thou canst mutine in a matron’s bones, 
+To flaming youth let virtue be as wax, 
+And melt in her own fire: proclaim no shame 
+When the compulsive ardour gives the charge, 
+
+
+Aer Ill Sc. IV] 
+
+
+Since frost itself as actively doth burn 
+And reasom pandars will. 
+
+Queen. O Hamlet, speak no more: 
+Thou turn’st mine eyes into my very soul; 
+And there I see such black and grained spots 
+As will not leave their tinct. 
+
+
+am. Nay, but to live 
+
+
+_In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed, 
+
+
+Stew’d in corruption, honeying and making 
+
+
+love 
+Over the nasty sty,— 
+Queen, O, speak to me no more; 
+
+
+These words, like daggers, enter im mine ears; 
+© more, sweet Hamlet! 
+am, A murderer and a villain; 
+A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe 
+
+
+Of your precedent lord; a vice of kings; 
+
+
+A cutpurse of the empire and the rule, 
+That from a shelf the precious diadem stole, 
+And put it in his pocket! 
+
+Queen. No more! 
+
+Ham. A king of shreds and patches,— 
+
+
+Enter Ghost. 
+
+
+Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings, 
+You heavenly guards! What would your 
+gracious figure > 
+
+Queen. Alas, he’s mad! 
+
+Ham. Do ‘you not come your tardy son 
+
+to chide, 
+That, lapsed in time and passion, lets go by 
+The important acting of your dread com- 
+mand ? 
+O, say! 
+
+Ghost. Do not forget: this visitation 110 
+
+Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose, 
+But, look, amazement on thy mother sits: 
+O, step between her and her fighting soul: 
+Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works: 
+Speak to her, Hamlet. 
+
+Ham. How is it with you, lady? 
+
+Queen, Alas, how ist with you, 
+
+That you do bend your eye on vacancy 
+And with the incorporal air do hold dis- 
+course > : 
+Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep; 
+And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm, 120 
+Your bedded hair, like life in excrements, 
+Start up, and stand an end. O gentle son, 
+Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper 
+Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you 
+look > 
+
+Ham. On him, on him! 
+
+pale he glares! 
+
+His form and cause conjoin’d, preaching to 
+stones, 
+
+Would make them capable. Do not look 
+upon me; 
+
+Lest with this piteous action you convert 
+
+
+Look you, how 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+1035 
+
+
+My stern effects: then what | have to do 
+ill want true colour; tears perchance for 
+blood, 130 
+Queen. To whom do you speak this > 
+Ham. Do you see nothing there? 
+Queen. Nothing at all; yet all that is J 
+see, 
+Ham. Nor did you nothing hear? 
+Queen. No, nothing but ourselves. 
+Ham. Why, look you there! look, how it 
+steals away! 
+My father, in his habit as he lived! 
+Look, where he goes, even now, out at the 
+portal! [Exit Ghost. 
+Queen. This is the very coinage of your 
+brain: 
+This bodiless creation ecstasy 
+Is very cunning in. 
+
+
+am. Ecstasy! 
+My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep 
+time, 140 
+And makes as healthful music: it is not mad- 
+ness 
+
+
+That I have utter’d: bring me to the test, 
+
+And I the matter will re-word; which mad- 
+ness 
+
+Would gambol from. 
+grace, 
+
+Lay not that flattering unction to your soul, 
+
+That not your trespass, but my madness 
+speaks: 
+
+It will but skin and film the ulcerous place, 
+
+Whiles rank corruption, mining all within, 
+
+Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven; 
+
+Repent what’s past; avoid what is to come; 
+
+And do not spread the compost on the weeds, 
+
+To make them ranker, Forgive me this my 
+virtue; 
+
+For in the fatness of these pursy times 
+
+Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg, 
+
+Yea, curb and woo for leave to do him geod. 
+
+Queen. O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart 
+
+in_ twain. 
+
+Ham. O, throw away the worser part of it, 
+And live the purer with the other half. 
+Good night: but go not to mine uncle’s bed; 
+Assume a virtue, if you have it not. 160 
+That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat, 
+Of habits devil, is angel yet in this, 
+
+That to the use of actions fair and good 
+
+He likewise gives a frock or livery, 
+
+That aptly is put on. Refrain to-night, 
+
+And that shall lend a kind of easiness 
+
+To the next abstinence: the next more easy; 
+
+For use almost can change the stamp of 
+nature, 
+
+tAnd either....the devil, or throw him out 
+
+With wondrous potency. Once more, good 
+night: 179 
+
+
+Mother, for love of 
+
+
+1036 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+ee a eh et” ee 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. I 
+
+
+eee ee 
+
+
+And when you are desirous to be bless'd, 
+I'll blessing beg of you. For this same lord, 
+[Pointing to Polonius, 
+I do repent: but heaven hath pleased it so, 
+To punish me with this and this with me, 
+That I must be their scourge and minister. 
+I will bestow him, and will answer well 
+The death I gave him. So, again, good night. 
+I must be cruel, only to be kind: 
+Thus bad begins and worse remains behind. 
+One word more, good lady. 
+Queen. What shall I do? 180 
+Ham. Not this, by no means, that I bid 
+you do: 
+Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed; 
+Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you his 
+mouse; 
+And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses, 
+Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd 
+fingers, 
+Make you to ravel all this matter out, 
+That I essentially am not in madness, 
+But mad in craft. "Twere good you let him 
+know; 
+For who, that’s but a queen, fair, sober, wise, 
+Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib, 190 
+Such dear concernings hide? who would do 
+so? 
+No, in despite of sense and secrecy, 
+Unpeg the basket on the house’s top, 
+Let the birds fly, and, like the famous ape, 
+To try conclusions, in the basket creep, 
+And break your own neck down. 
+Queen. Be thou assured, if words be made 
+of breath, 
+And breath of life, I have no life to breathe 
+What thou hast said to me. 
+Ham. | must to England; you know that? 
+Queen, Alack, 200 
+I had forgot: "tis so concluded on. 
+Ham. There's letters seal’d: and my two 
+schoolfellows, 
+‘Whom I will trust as I will adders fang’d, 
+They bear the mandate; they must sweep 
+my way, 
+And marshal me to knavery. Let it work; 
+For ‘tis the sport to have the enginer 
+Hoist with his own petar: and’t shall go 
+hard 
+But I will delve one yard below their mines, 
+And blow them at the moon: O, ‘tis most 
+sweet, 
+When in one line two crafts directly meet. 210 
+This man shall set me packing: 
+I'l] lug the guts into the neighbour room. 
+Mother, good night. Indeed this counsellor 
+Is now most still, most secret and most grave, 
+Who was in life a foolish prating knave. 
+Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you. 
+
+
+Good night, mother. 
+[Exeunt severally; Hamlet dragging 
+in Polonius. 
+
+
+ACT +IV. 
+
+
+ScENE I. A room in the castle, 
+
+
+Enter Kinc, QUEEN, RoSENCRANTZ, and 
+GUILDENSTERN, 
+King. There's matter in these sighs, these 
+profound heaves: 
+You must translate: ‘tis fit we understand 
+them. 
+Where is your son? ‘ 
+Queen. Bestow this place on us a little 
+while. 
+[Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. .. 
+Ah, mine own lord, what have I seen to- 
+night! 
+ate What, Gertrude? How does Ham- 
+et? 
+Queen. Mad as the sea and wind, when 
+both contend 
+Which is the mightier: in his lawless fit, 
+Behind the arras hearing something stir, 
+Whips out his rapier, cries, “A rat, a rat!’ 10 
+And, in this brainish apprehension, kills 
+The unseen good old man. 
+King. O heavy deed! 
+It had been so with us, had we been there: 
+His liberty is full of threats to all; 
+To you yourself, to us, to every one. 
+Alas, how shall this bloody deed be answer'd? 
+It will be laid to us, whose providence 
+Should have kept short, restrain’d and out of 
+haunt, 
+This mad young man: but so much was our 
+love, 
+We would not understand what was most fit; 
+But, like the owner of a foul disease, 21 
+To keep it from divulging, let it feed 
+Even on the pith of life. Where is he gone? 
+rt To draw apart the body he hath 
+ill'd: 
+O’er whom his very madness, like some ore 
+Among a mineral of metals base, 
+Shows itself pure; he weeps for what is 
+done. 
+King. O Gertrude, come away! 
+The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch, 
+But we will ship him hence: and this vile 
+deed 
+We must. with all our majesty and skill, 
+Both countenance and excuse. Ho, Guilden- 
+stern! 
+
+
+Re-enter ROSENCRANIZ and GUILDENSTERN, 
+
+
+Friends both, go join you with some further — 
+aid: 4 
+
+
+4 
+¢ 
+
+
+a" 
+
+
+- Act IV, Se. IIT] 
+
+
+ys 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+1037 
+
+
+Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain, 
+
+
+_And from his mother's closet hath he dragg'd 
+
+
+him: 
+
+Go seek him out; speak fair, and bring the 
+body 
+
+{nto the chapel. I pray you, haste in this. 
+[Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. 
+
+Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest 
+friends; 
+
+And let them know, both what we mean to 
+
+
+do, 
+tAnd what's untimely done........ 40 
+Whose whisper o’er the world’s diameter, 
+As level as the cannon to his blank, 
+Transports his poison’d shot, may miss our 
+name, 
+And hit the woundless air. O, come away! 
+My soul is full of discord and dismay. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. Another room in the castle. 
+Enter HaMLet. 
+Ham. Safely stowed. 
+
+
+eat [Within] Hamlet! Lord Hamlet! 
+
+
+Ham. But soft, what noise? who calls on 
+Hamlet? O, here they come. 
+
+
+Enter RosENcRANTz and GUILDENSTERN. 
+
+
+Ros. What have you done, my lord, with 
+‘the dead body? 
+Ham. Comvounded it with dust, whereto 
+‘tis kin. 
+Ros. Tell us where ‘tis, that we may take 
+it thence 
+And bear it to the chapel. 
+Ham. Do not believe it. 
+Ros. Believe what? 10 
+Ham, That I can keep your counsel and 
+not mine own. Besides, to be demanded of a 
+sponge! what replication should be made by 
+the son of a king? 
+Ros. Take you me for a sponge, my lord? 
+Ham. Ay, sir, that soaks up the king's 
+countenance, his rewards, his authorities. But 
+such officers do the king best service in. the 
+end: he keeps them, like an ape, in the corner 
+of his jaw; first mouthed, to be last swal- 
+lowed: when he needs what you have gleaned, 
+it is but squeezing you, and, sponge, you shall 
+be dry again. 
+Res. I understand you not, my lord. 
+am. I am glad of it: a knavish speech 
+sleeps in a foolish ear. 
+Ros. My lord, you must tell us where the 
+body is, and go with us to the king. 
+Ham. The body is with the king, but the 
+king is not with the body. The king is a 
+thing— 
+
+
+Guil. A thing, my lord! 3] 
+Ham. Of nothing: bring me to him. Hide 
+fox, and all after. [Exeuni. 
+Scene III. Another room in the castle. 
+Enter Kino atiended. 
+King. I have sent to seek him, and to find 
+
+
+the body. 
+How dangerous is it that this man goes loose! 
+Yet must not we put the strong law on him: 
+
+
+He's loved of the distracted multitude, 
+
+Who like not in their judgement, but their 
+eyes; 
+
+And where ‘tis so, the offender's scourge is 
+weigh’d, 
+
+But never the offence. To bear all smooth 
+and even, 
+
+
+This sudden sending him away must seem 
+Deliberate pause: diseases desperate grown 
+By desperate appliance are relieved, 10 
+Or not at all. 
+
+
+Enter ROSENCRANTZ. 
+How now! what hath befall’n? 
+
+
+Res. Where the dead body is bestow’d, 
+my lord, 
+We cannot get from him. 
+King. But where is he? 
+
+
+Ros. Without, my lord; 
+your pleasure. 
+
+King. Bring him before us. 
+
+Ros. Ho, Guildenstern! bring in my lord. 
+
+
+guarded, to know 
+
+
+Enter HAMLET and GUuILDENSTERN. 
+
+
+King. Now, Hamlet, where 's Polonius? 
+
+Ham. At supper. 
+
+King. At supper! where? 19 
+
+Ham. Not where he eats, but where he is 
+eaten: a certain convocation of politic worms 
+are e’en at him. Your worm is your only 
+emperor for diet: we fat all creatures else to 
+fat us, and we fat ourselves for maggots: your 
+fat king and your lean beggar is but variable 
+service, two dishes, but to one table: that's 
+the end. 
+
+King. Alas, alas! 
+
+Ham. A. man may fish with the worm that 
+hath eat of a king, and eat of the fish that 
+hath fed of that worm. 30 
+
+King. What dost thou mean by this? 
+
+Ham. Nothing but to show you how a 
+king may go a progress through the guts of a 
+beggar. 
+
+King, Where is Polonius? 
+
+Ham. In heaven; send thither to see: if 
+your messenger find him not there, see him i’ 
+the other place yourself. But indeed, if you 
+find him not within this month, you shall nose 
+him as you go up the stairs into the lobby. 
+
+
+1038 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc. IV 
+
+
+(ee 
+kwh —S————————SsSS— 
+
+
+King. Go seek him there. 49 
+[To some Attendants. 
+Ham. He will stay till you come. 
+[Exeunt Attendants. 
+King. Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial 
+safety,— 
+Which we do tender, as we dearly grieve 
+For that which thou hast done,—must send 
+thee hence 
+With fiery quickness; therefore prepare thy- 
+g self; 
+The bark is ready, and the wind at help, 
+The associates tend, and every thing is bent 
+For England. 
+
+
+Ham. For England! 
+
+King. Ay, Hamlet. 
+
+Ham. Good. 
+
+King. So is it, if thou knew’st our pur- 
+poses. 
+
+
+Ham. | see a cherub that sees them. But, 
+come; for England! Farewell, dear mother. 
+
+King. Thy loving father, Hamlet. 
+
+Ham. My mother: father and mother is 
+man and wife; man and wife is one flesh; 
+and so, my mother. Come, for England! 
+
+[Exit. 
+King. Follow him at foot; tempt him with 
+speed aboard; 
+Delay it not; I'll have him hence to-night: 
+Away! for every thing is seal’d and done 
+That else leans on the affair: pray you, make 
+haste. 
+{Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. 
+
+
+And, England, if my love thou hold’st at 
+aught— 60 
+
+As my great power thereof may give thee 
+sense, 
+
+
+Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red 
+
+After the Danish sword, and thy free awe 
+
+Pays homage to us—thou mayst not coldly set 
+
+Our sovereign process; which imports at fuil, 
+
+By letters congruing to that effect, 
+
+The present death of Hamlet, Do it, Eng- 
+land; 
+
+For like the hectic in my blood he rages, 
+
+And thot must cure me: till I know ‘tis done, 
+
+Howe’er my haps, my joys were ne'er beoun. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+
+
+Scene IV. A plain in Denmark. 
+
+
+Enier Fortinsras, a Captain, and. Soldiers, 
+marching, 
+
+
+the 
+
+
+For. Go, captain, from me 
+Danish king; 
+
+Tell him that, by his license, Fortinbras 
+
+Craves the conveyance of a promised march 
+
+Over his kingdom. You know the ren- 
+dezvous. 
+
+If that his majesty would aught with us, 
+
+
+greet 
+
+
+We shall express our duty in his eye; 
+And let him know so, 
+Cap. I will do’t, my lord. 
+For, Go softly on. 
+[Exeunt Fortinbras and Soldiers, 
+
+
+Enter Hamer, Rosencrantz, GUuILDEN. 
+STERN, and others. 
+
+
+Ham. Good sir, whose powers are. these? 
+Cap. They are of Norway, sir. 10 
+Ham. How purposed, sir, I pray you? 
+Cap. Against some part of Poland. 
+Ham. Who commands them, sir? 
+ee The nephew to old Norway, Fortin- 
+ras. 
+Ham. Goes it against the main of Poland, 
+sir, 
+Or some frontier? 
+Cap. Truly to speak, and with no addi- 
+tion, 
+We go to gain a little patch of ground 
+That hath in it no profit but the name. 
+To pay five ducats, five, 1 would not farm it; 
+Nor will it yield to Norway or the Pole 
+A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee. 
+Ham. Why, then the Polack never will 
+defend it. 
+Cap. Yes, it is already garrison’d. 
+Ham. Two thousand souls and twenty 
+thousand ducats 
+Will not debate the question of this straw: 
+This is the imposthume of much wealth and 
+peace, ; 
+That inward breaks, and shows no cause 
+without 
+
+
+Why the man dies. I humbly thank you, sir. 
+
+
+Cap. God be wi’ you, sir. Exit. 
+Ros. Will’t please you go, my lord? 30 
+Ham. I'll be with you straight. Go a 
+little before. [Exeunt all except Hamlet, 
+How all occasions do inform against me, 
+And spur my dull revenge! What is a man, 
+If his chief good and market of his time 
+Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. 
+Sure, he that made us with such large dis- 
+course, 
+Looking before and after, gave us not 
+That capability and god-like reason 
+To fust in us unused. Now, whether it be 
+Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple 40 
+Of thinking too precisely on the event, 
+A thought which, quarter’d, hath but one 
+part wisdom 
+And ever three parts coward, I do not know 
+Why: yet I live to say ‘This thing's to do;’ 
+Sith I have cause and will and strength and 
+means 
+To do't.. Examples gross as earth exhort mez 
+Witness this army of such mass and charge 
+
+
+_ Makes mouths at the invisible event, 
+
+
+When honour ’s at the stake. 
+
+
+FL en ae eR A ee eT ee ee a 
+
+
+Acr IV, Sc. V] 
+
+
+Led by a delicate and tender prince, 
+ose spirit with divine ambition puff'd ' 
+0 
+Exposing what is mortal and unsure 
+To all that fortune, death and danger dare, 
+Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great 
+Is not to stir without great argument, 
+But greatly to find quarrel in a straw 
+How stand | 
+then, ; 
+That have a father kill’d, a mother stain'd, 
+Excitements of my reason and my blood, 
+And let all sleep? while, to my shame, I see 
+The imminent death of twenty thousand men, 
+That, for a fantasy and trick of fame, 61 
+Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot 
+Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause, 
+Which is not tomb enough and continent 
+To hide the slain? ©, from this time forth, 
+My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing ee 
+Exit. 
+
+
+‘Scene V. Elsinore. 
+Enter Queen, Horatio, and a Gentleman. 
+
+
+A room in the castle. 
+
+
+Queen. I will not speak with her. 
+Gent. She is importunate, indeed distract: 
+Her mood will needs be pitied, 
+Queen. What would she have? 
+Gent. She speaks much of her father; says 
+she hears 
+There's tricks i’ the world; and hems, and 
+beats her heart; 
+Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in 
+doubt, 
+That carry but half sense: her speech is 
+nothing, 
+Yet the unshaped use of it doth move 
+The hearers to collection; they aim at it, 
+And botch the words up fit to their own 
+thoughts; 10 
+Which, as her winks, and nods, and gestures 
+yield them, 
+Indeed would make one think 
+thought, 
+Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.. 
+Hor. "Twere good she were spoken with: 
+for she may strew 
+Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds. 
+Queen. Let her come in. [Exit Horatio. 
+To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is, 
+Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss: 
+So full of artless jealousy is guilt, 
+it spills itself in fearing to be spilt. 20 
+
+
+there might be 
+
+
+Re-enter Horatio, with OPHELia. 
+
+
+Oph. Where is the beauteous majesty of 
+Denmark? 
+Queen. How now, Ophelia! 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+i 1039 
+
+
+Oph. [Sings] How should I your true love 
+know 
+From another one? 
+By his cockle hat and staff, 
+And his sandal shoon. 
+Queen, Alas, sweet lady, what imports this 
+song > 
+Oph. Say you? nay, pray you, mark, 
+[Sings] He is dead and gone, lady, 
+He is dead and gone; 
+Att his head a grass-green turf, 
+At his heels a stone, 
+Queen, Nay, but, Ophelia, — 
+Oph. Pray you, mark. 
+[Sings] White his shroud as the mountain 
+show,— 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+Enter Kine. 
+
+
+Queen. Alas, look here, my lord. 
+Oph. [Sings] Larded with sweet flowers; 
+Which bewept to the grave did go 
+With true-love showers, 
+King. How do you, pretty lady > 
+Oph. Well, God ‘ild you! They say the 
+owl was a baker's daughter. Lord, we know 
+what we are, but know not what we may be. 
+God be at your table! 
+King. Conceit upon her father. 
+Oph. Pray you, let’s have no words of 
+this; but when they ask you what it means, 
+say you this: 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+[Sings] To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day, 
+All in the morning betime, 
+And I a maid at your window, 50 
+To be your Valentine. 
+Then up he rose, and donn'd his 
+clothes, 
+And dupp’d the chamber door; 
+Let in the maid, that out a maid 
+Never departed more. 
+King. Pretty Ophelia! 
+Oph. Indeed, la, without an oath, I'll 
+make an end on’t: 
+[Sings] By Gis and by Saint Charity, 
+Alack, and fie for shame! 60 
+Young men will do't, if they come 
+tot; 
+By cock, they are to blame. 
+Quoth she, before you tumbled me, 
+You promised me to wed. 
+So would I ha’ done, by yonder sun, 
+An thou hadst not come to my 
+bed. 
+King. How long hath she been thus? 
+Oph. I hope all will be well. We must be 
+patient: but I cannot choose but weep, to 
+think they should lay him i’ the cold ground, 
+My brother shall know of it: and so I thank 
+you for your good counsel. Come, my coach? 
+
+
+1040 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+{Act IV, Sc. V 
+
+
+Good night, ladies; good night, sweet ladies; 
+good night, good night. Exit. 
+King. Follow her close; give her good 
+watch, I pray you. [Exit Horatio. 
+O, this is the poison of deep grief; it springs 
+All from her father’s death. O Gertrude, 
+Gertrude, 
+When sorrows come, they come not single 
+spies, 
+But in battalions. First, her father slain: 
+Next, your son gone; and he most violent 
+author 80 
+Of his own just remove:. the people muddied, 
+Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and 
+whispers, 
+For good Polonius’ death; and we have done 
+but greenly, 
+In hugger-mugger to inter him: poor Ophelia 
+Divided from herself and her fair judgement, 
+Without the which we are pictures, or mere 
+beasts: , 
+Last, and as much containing as all these, 
+Her brother is in secret come from France; 
+Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds, 
+And wants not buzzers to infect his ear 90 
+With pestilent speeches of his father’s death; 
+Wherein necessity, of matter beggar’d, 
+Will nothing stick our person to arraign 
+In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this, 
+Like to a murdering-piece, in many places 
+Gives me superfluous death. [A noise within. 
+Queen. Alack, what noise is this? 
+King. Where are my Switzers? Let them 
+guard the door. 
+
+
+Enter another Gentleman. 
+
+
+What is the matter? 
+Gent. Save yourself, my lord: 
+The ocean, overpeering of his list, 
+Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste 
+Than young Laertes, in a riotous head, 101 
+O’erbears your officers. The rabble call him 
+lord; 
+And, as the world were now but to begin, 
+Antiquity forgot, custom not known, 
+The ratifiers and props of every word, 
+They cry, “Choose we: Laertes shall be king:’ 
+Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the 
+clouds: 
+‘Laertes shall be king, Laertes king!’ 
+Queen. How cheerfully on the false trail 
+they cry! 
+O, this is counter, you false Danish dogs! 110 
+King. The doors are broke. [Noise within. 
+
+
+Enter Laertes, armed; Danes following. 
+
+
+Laer. Where is this king? 
+
+
+all without. 
+
+
+Sirs, stand you 
+
+
+Danes. No, let’s come in. 
+Laer. I pray you, give me leave, 
+Danes. We will, we will. 
+
+[They retire without the door. 
+
+Laer. I thank you; keep the door, O 
+
+thou vile king, 
+Give me my father! 
+Queen. Calmly, good Laertes. 
+Laer. That drop of blood that’s calm 
+proclaims me bastard, 
+Cries cuckold to my father, brands the harlot 
+Even here, between the chaste unsmirched 
+brow 
+Of my true mother. 
+
+King. What is the cause, Laertes, 120 
+That thy rebellion looks so giant-like? 
+
+Let him go, Gertrude; do not fear our per- 
+son: 
+
+There's such divinity doth hedge a king, 
+
+That treason can but peep to what it would, 
+
+Acts little of his will. Tell us, Laertes, 
+
+Why thou art thus incensed. Let him go, 
+Gertrude. 
+
+Speak, man. 
+
+Laer. Where is my father? 
+
+King. Dead. 
+
+Queen. But not by him, 
+
+King. Let him demand his fil. 
+
+Laer. How came he dead? I'll not be 
+
+juggled with: 130 
+To hell, allegiance! vows, to the blackest 
+
+devil! . 
+Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pit! 
+I dare damnation. To this point I stand, 
+That both the Worlds I give to negligence, 
+Let come what comes; only I'll be revenged 
+Most throughly for my father. ‘ 
+
+King. Who shall stay you? 
+
+Laer. My will, not all the world: 
+
+And for my means, I'll husband them so 
+well, 
+They shall go far with little. 
+King. Good Laertes, 
+If you desire to know the certainty 140 
+Of your dear father’s death, ist writ in your 
+revenge, 
+
+That, swoopstake, you will draw both friend 
+and foe, 
+
+Winner and loser? 
+
+Laer. None but his enemies. 
+
+King. Will you know them then? 
+
+Laer. To his good friends thus wide I ‘Il 
+
+ope my arms; 
+And like the kind life-rendering pelican, 
+Repast them with my blood. 
+
+King. Why, now you speak 
+Like a good child and a true gentleman. 
+That I am guiltless of your father's death, 
+And am most sensibly in grief for it, 
+
+
+150 
+
+
+ate Aes 
+
+
+Act IV, Se. VI] HAMLET 1041 
+
+
+It shall as level to your judgement pierce 
+As day does to your eye. 
+Danes. [Within] Let her come in. 
+
+
+And we cast away moan: 
+God ha’ mercy on his soul! 
+
+
+And of all Christian souls, | pray God. God 
+
+
+Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of 
+May! 
+Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia! 
+O heavens! is ’t possible, a young maid's wits 
+_ Should be as mortal as an old man’s life? 160 
+Nature is fine in love, and where ‘tis fine, 
+It sends some precious instance of itself 
+After the thing it loves. 
+= Oph. [Sings] 
+i They bore him barefaced on the bier; 
+Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny; 
+And in his grave rain'd many a tear:— 
+Fare you well, my dove! 
+Laer. Hadst thou thy wits, and didst per- 
+
+
+If by direct or by collateral hand 
+They find us touch’d, we will our kingdom 
+give, 
+Our crown, our life, and all that we call ours, 
+To you in satisfaction; but if not, 
+Be you content to lend your patience to us, 
+And we shall jointly labour with your soul 
+To give it due content, 
+aer. Let this be so; 
+His means of death, his obscure funeral— 
+No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his 
+bones, 
+No noble rite nor formal ostentation— 
+Cry to be heard, as ‘twere from heaven to 
+
+
+' Laer, How now! what noise is that? be wi’ ye. [Exit. 
+Laer. Do you see this, O God? 201 
+Re-enter OPHELIA. King. Laertes, I must commune with your 
+? grief, 
+
+O heat, dry up my brains! tears seven times | Or you deny me right. Go but apart, 
+: salt, Make choice of whom your wisest friends 
+___ Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye! you will, 
+_ By heaven, thy madness shall be paid with | And they shall hear and judge "twixt you and 
+; weight, : me: 
+j 
+
+
+suade revenge, earth, 
+It could not move thus. That I must call’t in question. 
+ft Oph: [Sings] You must sing a-down King. So you shall; 
+; a-down, And where the offence is let the great axe 
+| An you call him a-down-a. 171 fall. 
+___O, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false | | pray you, go with me. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+steward, that stole his master’s daughter. 
+Laer. This nothing's more than matter. 
+Oph. There’s rosemary, that's for re- 
+membrance; pray, love, remember: and there 
+is pansies, that's for thoughts. 
+Laer. A document in madness, thoughts 
+and remembrance fitted. 179 
+Oph. There’s fennel for you, and colum- 
+bines: there’s rue for you; and here's some 
+for me: we may call it herb-grace o’ Sun- 
+_ days: O, you must wear your rue with a dif- 
+_ ference. There's a daisy: I would give you 
+some violets, but they withered all when my 
+father died: they say he made a good end,— 
+[Sings] For bonny sweet Robin is all my 
+
+
+Scene VI. Another room in the castle. 
+Enter Horatio and a Servant. 
+
+
+Hor. What are they that would speak with 
+me? 
+Serv. Sailors, sir: they say they have let- 
+ters for you. 
+Hor. Let them come in. [Exit Servant. 
+I do not know from what part of the world 
+I should be greeted, if not from Lord Ham- 
+let. 
+
+
+Enter Sailors, 
+
+
+First Sail. God bless you, sir. 
+
+Hor. Let him bless thee too. 
+
+First Sail. He shall, sir, an’t please him. 
+There's a-letter for you, sir; it comes from 
+the ambassador that was bound for England; 
+if your name be Horatio, as I am let to know 
+It Is. 
+
+Hor. [Reads] ‘Horatio, when thou shalt 
+have overlooked this, give these fellows some 
+means to the king: they have letters for him. 
+Ere we were two days old at sea, a pirate of 
+His beard was as white as snow, very warlike appointment gave us chase. 
+All flaxen was his poll: Finding ourselves too slow of sail, we put on 
+
+He is gone. he is gone, $a compelled valour, and in the grapple | 
+
+
+joy. 
+Laer. Thought and affliction, passion, hell 
+itself, 
+She turns to favour and to prettiness. 
+ph. [Sings] And will he not come again? 
+"And will he not come again? 
+No, no, he is dead: 
+Go to thy death-bed: 
+
+
+He never will come again. 
+
+
+1042 
+
+
+boarded them: on the instant they got clear 
+of our ship; so I alone became their prisoner. 
+They have dealt with me like thieves of 
+mercy: but they knew what they did; I am to 
+do a good turn for them. Let the king have 
+the letters I have sent; and repair thou to me 
+with as much speed as thou wouldst fly death. 
+I have words to speak in thine ear will make 
+thee dumb; yet are they much too light for 
+the bore of the matter. These good fellows 
+will bring thee where I am. Rosencrantz and 
+Guildenstern hold their course for England: 
+of them I have much to tell thee. Farewell. 
+‘He that thou knowest thine, HAMLET.’ 
+Come, I will make you way for these your 
+letters; 
+And do't the speedier, that you may direct 
+me 
+To him from whom you brought them. 
+[Exeuni. 
+
+
+Another room in the castle. 
+
+
+Scene VII. 
+Enter Kinc and LAERTES. 
+
+
+King. Now must your conscience my ac- 
+quittance seal, 
+And you must put me in your heart for 
+friend, 
+Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear, 
+That he which hath your noble father slain 
+Pursued my life. 
+
+Laer. It well appears: but tell me 
+Why you proceeded not against these feats, 
+So crimeful and so capital in nature, 
+
+As by your safety, wisdom, all things else, 
+You mainly were stirr’d up. 
+King. O, for two special reasons; 
+Which may to you, perhaps, seem much un- 
+sinew'd, 10 
+But yet to me they are strong. The queen his 
+mother 
+Lives almost by his looks; and for myself— 
+My virtue or my plague, be it either which— 
+She ’s so conjunctive to my life and soul, 
+That, as the star moves not but in his sphere, 
+I could not but by her. The other motive, 
+Why to a public count I might not go, 
+Is the great love the general gender bear him; 
+Who, dipping all his faults in their affection, 
+Would, like the spring that turneth wood to 
+
+
+stone, 20 
+Convert his gyves to graces; so that my ar- 
+rows, 
+
+
+Too slightly timber’d for so loud a wind, 
+Would have reverted to my bow again, 
+And not where | had aimed them. 
+
+Laer, And so have I a noble father lost; 
+A sister driven into desperate terms, 
+Whose worth, if praises may go back again, 
+Stood challenger on mount of all the age 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. VII 
+
+
+~ 
+
+
+For her perfections: but my revenge will 
+
+come. 
+King., Break not your sleeps for that: you 
+
+must not think 30 
+
+That we are made of stuff so flat and dull 
+
+That we can let our beard be shook with 
+danger 
+
+And think it pastime. 
+more: 
+
+I loved your father, and we love ourself; 
+
+And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine— 
+
+
+You shortly shall hear 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+How now! what news? 
+Mess. Letters, my lord, from Hamlet: 
+This to your majesty; this to the queen. 
+King. From Hamlet! who brought them? 
+Mess. Sailors, my lord, they say; | saw 
+
+
+them not: 
+They were given me by Claudio; he re- 
+ceived them 40 
+
+
+Of him that brought them. 
+King. Laertes, you shall hear them. 
+Leave us. [Exit Messenger. 
+[Reads] ‘High and mighty, You shall know 
+I am set naked on your kingdom. To-morrow 
+shall I beg leave to see your kingly eyes: 
+when I shall, first asking your pardon there- 
+unto, recount the occasion of my sudden and 
+more strange return, 
+*HaMLeT.’ 
+Are all the rest 
+50 
+
+
+What should this mean? 
+
+come back? 
+
+Or is it some abuse and no such thing? 
+Laer. Know you the hand? 
+King. ’Tis Hamlet's character. ‘Naked!’ 
+
+And in a postscript here, he says ‘alone.’ 
+
+Can you advise me? 
+
+Laer. I’m lost in it, my lord. But let 
+him come; 
+
+It warms the very sickness in my heart, 
+
+That I shall live and tell him to his teeth, 
+
+‘Thus didest thou.’ 
+
+King. If it be so, Laertes— 
+
+As how should it be so? how otherwise ?— 
+
+Will you be ruled by me? 
+
+
+Laer. Ay, my lord; 60 
+So you will not o’errule me to a peace, 
+King. To thine own peace. If he be now 
+
+
+return’d, 
+As checking at his voyage, and that he means 
+No more to undertake it, I will work him 
+To an exploit, now ripe in my device, 
+Under the which he shall not choose but fall: 
+And for his death no wind of blame shall 
+breathe, 
+But even his mother shall uncharge the prac- 
+tice 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. VII] 
+
+
+HAMLET a 
+
+
+1043 
+
+
+Oa Sen eS 
+
+
+And call it accident. 
+
+
+Laer. My lord, I will be ruled; 
+The rather, if you could devise it so 70 
+That I might be the organ. 
+
+King, It falls right. 
+You have been talk’d of since your travel 
+
+much, 
+
+
+And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality 
+Wherein, they say, you shine: your sum of 
+Parts 
+Did not together pluck such envy from him 
+As did that one, and that, in my regard, 
+Of the unworthiest siege. 
+Laer. What part is that, my lord? 
+King. A very riband in the cap of youth, 
+Yet needful too; for youth no less becomes 
+The light and careless livery that it wears 80 
+Than settled age his sables and his weeds, 
+Importing health and graveness. Two months 
+since, 
+Here was a gentleman of Normandy:— 
+I've seen myself, and served against, the 
+French, 
+And they can well on horseback: but this 
+gallant 
+Had witchcraft in ’t; he grew unto his seat; 
+And _ to such wondrous doing brought his 
+- horse, 
+As had he been incorpsed and demi-natured 
+With the brave beast: so far he topp'd my 
+thought, 
+That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks, 90 
+Come short of what he did. 
+Laer. A Norman was 't? 
+King. A Norman. 
+Laer. Upon my life, Lamond. 
+King. The very same. 
+Laer. I know him well: he is the brooch 
+indeed 
+And gem of all the nation. 
+King. He made confession of you, 
+And gave you such a masterly report 
+For art and exercise in your defence 
+And for your rapier most especial, 
+That he cried out, ‘twould be a sight indeed, 
+If one could match you: the scrimers of their 
+
+
+_ nation, ‘101 
+He swore, had neither motion, guard, nor 
+eye, 
+
+
+If you opposed them. Sir, this report of his 
+Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy 
+That he could nothing do but wish and beg 
+Your sudden coming o'er, to play with him. 
+Now, out of this,— 
+Laer. What out of this, my lord? 
+King. Laertes, was your father dear to 
+you? 
+Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, 
+A face without a heart? 
+
+
+Laer. Why ask you this? 110 
+King. Not that I think you did not love 
+your father; 
+But that I know love is begun by time; 
+And that I see, in passages of proof, 
+Time qualifies the spark and fire of it. 
+There lives within the very flame of love 
+A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it; 
+And nothing is at a like goodness still; 
+For goodness, growing to a plurisy, 
+Dies in his own too much: that we would 
+do, 
+We should do when we would; for this 
+‘would’ changes 120 
+And hath abatements and delays as many 
+As there are tongues, are hands, are acci- 
+dents ; 
+And then this ‘should’ is like a spendthrift 
+sigh, 
+That hurts by easing. But, to the quick o° 
+the ulcer:— 
+Hamlet comes back: what would you under- 
+take, 
+To show yourself your father’s son in deed 
+ore than in words? 
+
+
+Laer, To cut his throat i’ the church. 
+King. No place, indeed, should murder 
+sanctuarize; 
+Revenge should have no bounds, But, good 
+Laertes, 
+Will you do this, keep close within your 
+chamber. 130 
+Hamlet return’d shall know you are come 
+home: 
+We'll put on those shall praise your excel- 
+lence 
+
+
+And set a double varnish on the fame 
+
+The Frenchman gave you, bring you in fine 
+together 
+
+And wager on your heads: he, being remiss, 
+
+Most generous and free from all contriving, 
+
+Will not peruse the foils; so that, with ease, 
+
+Or with a little shuffling, you may choose 
+
+A sword unbated, and in a pass of practice 
+
+Requite him for your father, 
+
+Laer. I will do't: 140 
+And, for that purpose, I'll anoint my sword, 
+I bought an unction of a mountebank, 
+
+So mortal that, but dip a knife in it, 
+
+Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare, 
+
+Collected from all simples that have virtue 
+
+Under the moon, can save the thing from 
+death 
+
+That is but scratch’d withal: I'll touch my 
+point 
+
+With this contagion, that, if I gall him 
+slightly, 
+
+It may be death. 
+
+King. Let's further think of this; 
+
+
+1044 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+[Act V, Se. } 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+Weigh what convenience both of time and 
+means 150 
+
+May fit us to our shape: if this should fail, 
+
+And that our drift look through our bad per- 
+
+
+formance, 
+
+"Twere better not assay'd: therefore this 
+project 
+
+Should have a back or second, that might 
+hold, 
+
+If this should blast in proof. Soft! let me 
+see: 
+
+We'll make a solemn wager on your cun- 
+nings: 
+
+I ha't: 
+
+
+When in your motion you are hot and dry— 
+
+And make your bouts more violent to that 
+end— 
+
+And that he calls for drink, I'll have pre- 
+pared him. 160 
+
+A chalice for the nonce, whereon but sipping, 
+
+If he by chance escape your venom’d stuck, 
+
+Our purpose may hold there. 
+
+
+Enter QuEEN. 
+
+
+How now, sweet queen! 
+Queen. One woe doth tread upon another's 
+heel, 
+So fast they follow: your sister's drown’d, 
+Laertes. 
+Laer. Drown'd! O, where? 
+Queen. There is a willow grows aslant a 
+brook, 
+That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy 
+stream; 
+There with fantastic garlands did she come 
+Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long 
+purples 170 
+That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, 
+But our cold maids do dead men’s fingers 
+call them: 
+There, on the pendent boughs her coronet 
+weeds 
+Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke; 
+When down her weedy trophies and herself 
+Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread 
+wide; 
+And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up: 
+Which time she chanted snatches of old 
+
+
+tunes; 
+As one incapable of her own distress, 
+Or like a creature native and indued 180 
+
+
+Unto that element: but long it could not be 
+
+Till that her garments, heavy with their 
+drink, 
+
+Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious 
+
+
+ay 
+To muddy death. 
+Laer. Alas, then, she is drown'd? 
+Queen. Drown'd, drown'd. 
+
+
+Laer. Too much of water hast thou, poor, 
+
+
+Ophelia, 
+And therefore I forbid my tears: but yet 
+It is our trick; nature her custom holds, 
+Let shame say what it will: when these are 
+gone, 
+The woman will be out. Adieu, my lord: 
+I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze, 
+But that this folly douts it. [Exit. 
+King. Let's follow, Gertrude: 
+How much I had to do to calm his rage! 
+Now fear I this will give it start again; 
+Therefore let’s follow. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+ACT V. 
+
+
+Scene I. A churchyard. 
+Enter two Clowns, with spades, &c. 
+
+First Clo. Is she to be buried in Christian 
+burial that wilfully seeks her own salvation? 
+
+Sec. Clo. I tell thee she is; and therefore 
+make her grave straight: the crowner hath sat 
+on her, and finds it Christian burial. 
+
+First Clo. How can that be, unless she 
+drowned herself in her own defence? 
+
+Sec. Clo. Why, ‘tis found so. 
+
+First Clo. It must be ‘se offendendo;" it 
+cannot be else. For here lies the point: if I 
+drown myself wittingly, it argues an act: and 
+an act hath three branches; it is, to act, to do, 
+and to perform: argal, she drowned herself 
+wittingly. 
+
+Sec. Clo. Nay, but “hear you, goodman 
+delver,— a 
+
+First Clo. Give me leave. Here lies the 
+water; good: here stands the man; good: if 
+the man go to this water, and drown himself, 
+it is, will he, nill he, he goes,—mark you 
+that; but if the water come to him and drown 
+him, he drowns not himself: argal, he that is 
+not guilty of his own death shortens not his 
+own life. 
+
+Sec. Clo. But is this law? 
+
+First Clo. Ay, marry, 
+quest law. 
+
+Sec. Clo, Will you ha’ the truth on’t? If 
+this had not been a gentlewoman, she should 
+have been buried out o’ Christian burial. 
+
+First Clo. Why, there thou say’st: and the 
+more pity that great folk should have counte- 
+nance in this world to drown or hang them- 
+selves, more than their even Christian. Come, 
+my spade. There is no ancient gentlemen 
+but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers: 
+they hold up Adam's profession. 
+
+Sec. Clo. Was he a gentleman? 
+
+First Clo. A’ was the first that ever bore 
+arms. 
+
+
+Sec. Clo, Why, he had none. 39 
+
+
+oat ’ 
+is t; crowners 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+__ First Clo. What, art a heathen? How dost 
+_ thou understand the Scripture? The Scrip- 
+ture says “Adam digged:’ could he dig without 
+arms? I'll put another question to thee: if 
+thou answerest me not to the purpose, confess 
+tiyself— 
+
+Sec. Clo. Go to. 
+
+First Clo. What is he that builds stronger 
+chan either the mason, the shipwright, or the 
+arpenter ? ? 
+
+Sec. Clo. The gallows-maker; for that 
+‘rame outlives a thousand tenants, 50 
+
+First Clo. 1 like thy wit well, in good 
+faith: the gallows does well; but how does it 
+well? it does well to those that do ill: now 
+thou dost ill to say the gallows is built strong- 
+er than the church: argal, the gallows may 
+do well to thee. To't again, come. 
+
+Sec. Clo, ‘Who builds stronger than a 
+mason, a shipwright, or a carpenter?’ 
+
+First Clo. Ay, tell me that, and unyoke. 
+
+Sec. Clo. Marry, now I can tell. 
+
+First Clo. To't. 
+
+Sec. Clo, Mass, I cannot tell. 
+
+
+Enter Hamuet and Horatio, at a distance. 
+
+
+First Clo. Cudgel thy brains no more about 
+it, for your dull ass will not mend his pace 
+with beating; and, when you are asked this 
+question next, say ‘a grave-maker:’ the houses 
+that he makes last till doomsday. Go, get thee 
+to 7Yaughan: fetch me a stoup of liquor. 
+
+[Exit Sec. Clown. 
+[He digs, and sings. 
+In youth, when I did love, did love, 
+Methought it was very sweet, 70 
+To contract, O, the time, for, ah, my be- 
+hove, 
+O, methought, there was nothing meet. 
+
+Ham. Has this fellow no feeling of his 
+business, that he sings at grave-making ? 
+
+Hor. Custom hath made it in him a prop- 
+erty of easiness. 
+
+Ham. “Tis e’en so: the hand of little em- 
+ployment hath the daintier sense. 
+First Clo. [Sings] 
+
+But age, with his stealing steps, 
+
+5] Hath claw’d me in his clutch, 80 
+. And hath shipped me intil the land, 
+
+; As if I had never been such. 
+
+sas [Throws up a shull. 
+
+Ham. That skull had a tongue in it, and 
+
+‘' could sing once: how the knave jowls it to the 
+ground, as if it were Cain's jaw-bone, that did 
+the first murder! It might be the pate of a 
+politician, which this ass now o’er-reaches: 
+one that would circumvent God, might it not? 
+Hor. It might, my lord. 89 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+1045 
+
+
+Ham. Or of a courtier; which could say 
+‘Good morrow, sweet lord! How dost thou, 
+good lord?’ This might be my lord such-a-~ 
+one, that praised my lord such-a-one’s horse, 
+when he meant to beg it; might it not? 
+
+Hor. Ay, my lord. 
+
+Ham. Why, e’en so: and now my Lady 
+Worm’s; chapless, and knocked about the 
+mazzard with a sexton’s spade: here’s fine 
+revolution, an we had the trick to see’t. Did 
+these bones cost no more the breeding, but to 
+play at loggats with “em? mine ache to think 
+on 't. 101 
+
+First Clo. [Sings] ; 
+
+A pick-axe, and a spade, a spade, 
+For and a shrouding sheet: 
+O, a pit of clay for to be made 
+For such a guest is meet. 
+[Throws up another skull. 
+
+Ham. There's another: why may not that 
+be the skull of a lawyer? Where be his quid- 
+dities now, his quillets, his cases, his tenures, 
+and his tricks? why does he suffer this rude 
+knave now to knock him about the sconce 
+with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of 
+his action of battery? Hum! This fellow 
+might be in’s time a great buyer of land, with 
+his statutes, his recognizances, his fines, his 
+double vouchers, his recoveries: is this the fine 
+of his fines, and the recovery of his recoveries, 
+to have his fine pate full of fine dirt? will his 
+vouchers vouch him no more of his purchases, 
+and double ones too, than the length and 
+breadth of a pair of indentures? The very 
+conveyances of his lands will hardly lie in 
+this box; and must the inheritor himself have 
+no more, ha? 121 
+
+Hor. Not a jot more, my lord. 
+
+Ham. Is not parchment made of sheep- 
+skins > 
+
+Hor. Ay, my lord, and of calf-skins too. 
+
+Ham. They are sheep and calves which 
+seek out assurance in that. I will speak to 
+this fellow. Whose grave’s this, sirrah? 
+
+First Clo. Mine, sir. 
+
+[Sings] O, a pit of clay for to be made 
+
+For such a guest is meet. 130 
+
+Ham. | think it be thine, indeed; for thou 
+liest in ’t. 
+
+First Clo. You lie on’t, sir, and therefore 
+it is not yours: for my part, I do not lie in’t, 
+and yet it is mine. 
+
+Ham. Thou dost lie in’t, to be in’t and 
+say it is thine: ‘tis for the dead, not for the 
+quick; therefore thou liest. 
+
+First Clo. “Tis a quick lie, sir; ‘twill away 
+again, from me to you. 140 
+
+Ham. What man dost thou dig it for? 
+
+First Clo, For no man, sir. 
+
+
+1046 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+Ham. What woman, then? 
+
+First Clo. For none, neither. 
+
+Ham. Who is to be buried in ‘t? 
+
+First Clo. One that was a woman, sir; but, 
+rest her soul, she ’s dead. 
+
+Ham. How absolute the knave is! we must 
+speak by the card, or equivocation will undo us. 
+By the Lord, Horatio, these three years I have 
+taken note of it; the age is grown so picked 
+that the toe of the peasant comes so near the 
+heel of the courtier, he galls his kibe. How 
+long hast thou been a grave-digger? 
+
+First Clo. All the days i’ the year, I came 
+tot that day that our last king Hamlet over- 
+came Fortinbras. 
+
+Ham. How long is that since? 
+
+First Clo. Cannot you tell that? every fool 
+can tell that: it was the very day that young 
+Hamlet was born; he that is mad, and sent 
+into England. 
+
+Ham. Ay, marry, why was he sent into 
+England? 
+
+First Clo. Why, because he was mad: he 
+shall recover his wits there; or, if he do not, 
+it's no great matter there, 
+
+Ham. Why? 
+
+First Clo. Twill not be seen in him there; 
+there the men are as mad as he. 170 
+
+Ham. How came he mad? 
+
+First Clo. Very strangely, they say. 
+
+Ham. How strangely ? 
+
+First Clo. Faith, e’en with losing his wits. 
+
+Ham. Upon what ground? 
+
+First Clo. Why, here in Denmark: I have 
+been sexton here, man and boy, thirty years. 
+
+Ham. How long will a man lie i’ the earth 
+ere he rot! 179 
+
+First Clo. I" faith, if he be not rotten be- 
+fore he die—as we have many pocky corses 
+now-a-days, that will scarce hold the laying 
+in—he will last you some eight year or nine 
+year: a tanner will last you nine year. 
+
+- Ham. Why he more than another? 
+
+First Clo. Why, sir, his hide is so tanned 
+with his trade, that he will keep out water a 
+great while; and your water is a sore decayer 
+of your whoreson dead body. Here's a skull 
+now; this skull has lain in the earth three and 
+twenty years. 191 
+
+Ham. Whose was it? 
+
+First Clo. A whoreson mad fellow’s it was: 
+whose do you think it was? 
+
+Ham. Nay, | know not. 
+
+First Clo. A pestilence on him for a mad 
+rogue! a’ poured a flagon of Rhenish on my 
+head once. This same skull, sir, was Yorick’s 
+skull, the king’s jester. 
+
+Han. This? 200 
+
+First Clo. E’en that. 
+
+
+of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he 
+bath borne me on his back a thousand fimes; 
+and now, how abhorred in my imagination it 
+is! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips 
+that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where 
+be your gibes now? your gambols? your 
+songs? your flashes of merriment, that were 
+wont to set the table on a roar? Not one 
+now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap- 
+fallen? Now get you to my lady’s chamber, 
+and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to 
+this favour she must come; make her laugh 
+at that. Prithee, Horatio, tell me one thing. 
+
+Hor. What's that, my lord? 
+
+Ham. Dost thou think Alexander looked o° 
+this fashion i’ the earth? 
+
+Hor. E’en so. 220 
+
+Ham. And smelt so? pah! 
+
+[Puts down the skull, 
+
+Hor. E’en so, my lord. 
+
+Ham. To what base uses we may return, 
+Horatio! Why may not imagination trace the 
+noble dust of Alexander, till he find it stop- 
+ping a bung-hole? 
+
+Hor. “Twere to consider too curiously, to 
+consider so. 
+
+Ham. No, faith, not a jot; but to follow 
+him thither with modesty enough, and likeli- 
+hood to lead it: as thus: Alexander died, 
+Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth 
+into dust; the dust is earth; of earth we make 
+loam; and why of that loam, whereto he 
+was converted, might they not stop a beer- 
+barrel? 
+
+Imperious Cesar, dead and turn’d to clay, 
+
+Might stop a hole to keep the wind away: 
+
+O, that that earth, which kept the world in 
+
+awe, 
+
+Should patch a wall to expel the winter's 
+
+flaw! 
+But soft! but soft! aside: here comes the king, 
+
+
+Enter Priests, &c. in procession; the Corpse 
+of OPHELIA, LAERTEs and Mourners follow- 
+ing; KING, QUEEN, their trains, &c. 
+
+
+The queen, the courtiers: who is this they 
+
+
+follow > 241 
+And with such maimed rites? This doth be- 
+token 
+
+
+The corse they follow did with desperate hand 
+Fordo its own life: "twas of some estate. 
+A very noble youth: mark. 
+[Retiring with Horatio. 
+
+Laer. What ceremony else? 
+
+Ham. That is Laertes, 
+A noble youth, mark. 
+
+Laer. What ceremony else? 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. IT 
+
+
+7 
+: 
+. 
+
+
+_ First Priest. Her obsequies have been as 
+a far enlarged 
+
+__ As we have warranty: her death was doubt- 
+Ak ; 
+
+
+Geo lfal 5. 
+
+And, but that great command o'ersways the 
+ }ssetorder, 251 
+She should in ground unsanctified have lodged 
+_ Till the last trumpet; for charitable prayers, 
+Shards, flints and pebbles should be thrown on 
+_. her: 
+
+Yet here she is allow’d her virgin crants, 
+
+Her maiden strewments and the bringing home 
+_. Of bell and burial. 
+
+Laer. Must there no more be done? 
+
+First Priest. No more be done: 
+We should profane the service of the dead 
+_ To sing a requiem and such rest toher 260 
+__ As. to peace-parted souls. 
+
+’ Laer. Lay her i’ the earth: 
+
+_ And from her fair and unpolluted flesh 
+
+_. May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest, 
+ministering angel shall my sister be, 
+
+When thou liest howling. 
+
+_ Ham. What, the fair Ophelia! 
+Queen. Sweets to the sweet: farewell! 
+[Scatiering flowers. 
+been my Hamlet's 
+
+
+ff 
+
+
+IT Feoed thou shouldst have 
+
+
+wife; 
+I thought thy bride-bed to have deck’d, sweet 
+maid, 
+_ And not have strew'd thy grave. 
+‘ Laer. O,, treble woe 
+
+
+B Fall ten times treble on that cursed head, 270 
+Whose wicked deed thy most Ingenious sense 
+_ Deprived thee of! Hold of the earth awhile, 
+_ Till I have caught her once more in mine 
+arms: 
+4 [Leaps into the grave. 
+_ Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead, 
+Till of this fat a mountain you have made, 
+_ To o’ertop old Pelion, or the skyish head 
+_ Of blue Olympus. 
+: Ham. [Advancing] What is he whose 
+Pe. seiaparief 
+Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of 
+sorrow 
+mjures the wandering stars, and makes 
+them stand 
+; Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I, 280 
+_ Hamlet the Dane. [Leaps into the grave. 
+7. Laer. The devil take thy soul! 
+2 [Grappling with him. 
+Ham. Thou pray'st not well. 
+I prithee, take thy fingers from my throat; 
+_ For, though I am not splenitive and rash, 
+__ Yet have I something in me dangerous, 
+_ Which let thy wiseness fear: hold off thy 
+hand. 
+| King. Pluck them asunder, 
+
+
+1047 
+
+
+Queen. Hamlet, Hamlet! 
+All. Gentlemen,— 
+Hor Good my lord, be quiet. 
+
+
+The Aitendants pari them, and they 
+
+
+come out of the grave, 
+Ham. Why, Iwill fight with him upon 
+this theme 
+
+
+Until my eyelids will no. longer wag, 290 
+Queen. O my son, what theme? 
+Ham. I. loved Ophelia: . forty. thousand 
+brothers 
+Could not, with all their quantity of love, 
+Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for 
+her? 
+King. O, he is mad, Laertes. 
+Queen. For love of God, forbear him. 
+Ham. ‘Swounds, show me what thou ‘It do: 
+Woo 't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? 
+woo 't tear thyself? 
+Woo 't drink up eisel? eat a crocodile 
+I'll do’t. Dost thou come here to whine? 
+To outface me with leaping in her grave > 
+Be buried quick with her, and so will I: 
+And, if thou prate of mountains, let. them 
+throw 
+Millions of acres on us, till our ground, 
+Singeing his pate against the burning zone, 
+Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou ‘It 
+
+
+mouth, 
+I'll rant as well as thou. 
+Queen. This is mere madness: 
+
+
+And thus awhile the fit will work on him; 
+Anon, as patient as the female dove, 
+When that her golden couplets ate disclosed, 
+His silence will sit drooping. 
+Ham. Hear you, sir; 311 
+What is the reason that you use me thus? 
+I loved you ever: but it is no matter ; 
+Let Hercules himself do what he may, 
+The cat will mew and dog will have his day. 
+[ Exit, 
+King. | pray you, good Horatio, wait upon 
+him. [Exit Horatio. 
+[To Laertes] Strengthen your patience in our 
+last night’s speech; 
+We'll put the matter to the present push. 
+Good Gertrude, set scme watch over your son. 
+This grave shall have a living monument: 320 
+An hour of quiet shortly shall we see; 
+Till then, in patience our proceeding be. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. A hall in the castle. 
+
+
+Enter HamMLet and Horatio. 
+
+
+Ham. So much for: this, sir: now. shall 
+you see the other; 
+You do remember all the circumstance? 
+Hor. Remember it, my lord! 
+
+
+1048 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. II 
+
+
+Ham. Sir, in my heart there was a kind 
+of fighting, 
+That would net let me sleep: methought I 
+lay 
+Worse than the mutines in the bilboes. Rashly, 
+And praised be rashness for it, let us know, 
+Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well, 
+When our deep plots do pall: and that should 
+teach us 
+There's a divinity that shapes our ends, 
+Rough-hew them how we will,— 
+Hor. That is most certain, 
+Ham. Up from my cabin, 
+My sea-gown scarf'd about me, in the dark 
+Groped I to find out them; had my desire, 
+Finger'd their packet, and in fine withdrew 
+To mine own room again; making so bold, 
+My fears forgetting manners, to unseal 
+Their grand commission; where I found, 
+Horatio,— 
+O royal knavery!—an exact command, 
+Larded with many several sorts of reasons 20 
+Importing Denmark's health and England's 
+too, 
+With, ho! such bugs and goblins in my life, 
+That, on the supervise, no leisure bated, 
+No, not to stay the grinding of the axe, 
+My head should be struck off. 
+Hor. Ist possible? 
+Ham. Here's the commission: read it at 
+more leisure. 
+But wilt thou hear me how I did proceed? 
+Hor. 1 beseech you. 
+Ham. Being thus be-netted round with 
+villanies,— 
+Ere I could make a prologue to my brains, 30 
+They had begun the play—I sat me down, 
+Devised a new commission, wrote it fair: 
+I once did hold it, as our statists do, 
+A baseness to write fair and labour’d much 
+How to forget that learning, but, sir, now 
+'t did me yeoman’s service: wilt thou know 
+The effect of what I wrote? 
+Hor. Ay, good my lord. 
+Ham. An earnest conjuration from the 
+king, 
+As England was his faithful tributary, 
+As love between them like the palm might 
+flourish, 40 
+As peace should still her wheaten garland 
+wear 
+And stand a comma ‘tween their amities, 
+And many such-like “As 'es of great charge, 
+That, on the view and knowing of these 
+contents, 
+Without debatement further, more or less, 
+He should the bearers put to sudden death, 
+Not shriving-time allow'd. 
+Hor. How was this seal’d? 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+Ham. Why, even in that was heaven or- 
+dinant. 
+I had my father’s signet in my purse, 
+Which was the model of that Danish seal; 50 
+Folded the writ up in form of the other, 
+Subscribed it, gave 't the impression, placed 
+
+
+it safely, 
+
+The changeling never known. Now, the next 
+day 
+
+Was our sea-fight; and what to this was 
+sequent 
+
+
+Thou know’st already. 
+Hor. So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go 
+to't. 
+Ham. Why, man, they did make love to 
+this employment; 
+They are not near my conscience; their de- 
+feat , 
+Does by their own insinuation grow: 
+"Tis dangerous when the baser nature comes 
+Between the pass and fell incensed points 
+Of mighty opposites. 
+Hor. Why, what a king is this! 
+Ham. Does it not, think’st thee, stand me, 
+_ now upon— 
+He that hath kill’d my king and whored my 
+mother, 
+Popp'd in between the election and my hopes, 
+Thrown out his angle for my proper life, 
+And with such cozenage—is ‘t not perfect con- 
+science, 
+To quit him with this arm? and is 't not to be 
+damn’‘d, 
+To let this canker of our nature come 
+In further evit? 70 
+Hor. It must be shortly known to him 
+from England 
+What is the issue of the business there. 
+Ham. It will be short: the interim is mine; 
+And a man's life's no more than to say One.” 
+But I am very sorry, good Horatio, 
+That to Laertes I forgot myself; 
+For, by the image of my cause, I see 
+The portraiture of his: I'll court his favours: 
+But, sure, the bravery of his grief did put me 
+Into a towering passion. 
+Hor. Peace! who comes here? 80 
+
+
+Enter Osnric. 
+
+
+Osr. Your lordship is right welcome back 
+to Denmark. 
+
+Ham. | humbly Dost 
+know this water-fly ? 
+
+Hor. No, my good lord. 
+
+Ham. Thy state is the more gracious; for 
+‘tis a vice to know him. He hath much land, 
+and fertile: let a beast be lord of beasts, and 
+
+
+thank you, sir. 
+
+
+| his crib shall stand at the king’s mess: ‘tis @ 
+
+
+Act V, Se. II] 
+OO 
+
+
+chough; but, as I say, spacious in the Pposses- 
+sion of dirt. 
+
+Osr. Sweet lord, if your lordship were at 
+leisure, I should impart a thing to you from 
+his majesty. 
+
+Ham. | will receive it, sir, with all diligence 
+
+
+of spirit. Put your bonnet to his right use; 
+
+
+‘tis for the head. 
+
+Osr. I thank your lordship, it is very hot, 
+
+Ham. No, believe me, ‘tis very cold; the 
+wind is northerly. 99 
+
+Osr. It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed. 
+
+Ham. But yet methinks it is very sultry 
+and hot for my complexion. 
+
+Osr. Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sul- 
+try,—as ‘twere—I cannot tell how. But, my 
+lord, his majesty bade me signify to you that 
+he has laid a great wager on your head: sir, 
+this is the matter,— 
+
+Ham. | beseech you, remember— 
+
+[Hamlet moves him to put on his hat. 
+
+Osr. Nay, good my lord; for mine ease, 
+in good faith. Sir, here is newly come to 
+court Laertes; believe me, an absolute gentle- 
+man, full of most excellent differences, of 
+very soft society and great showing: indeed, 
+to speak feelingly of him, he is the card or 
+calendar of gentry, for you shall find in him 
+the continent of what part a gentleman wouid 
+see. 
+
+Ham, Sir, his definement suffers no perdi- 
+tion in you; though, I know, to divide him 
+inyentorially would dizzy the arithmetic of 
+memory, fand yet but yaw neither, in respect 
+of his quick sail. But, in the verity of extol- 
+ment, I take him to be a soul of great article; 
+and his infusion of such dearth and rareness, 
+as, to make true direction of him, his sembla- 
+ble is his mirror; and who else would trace 
+him, his umbrage, nothing more. 
+
+Osr. Your lordship speaks most infallibly 
+of him. 
+
+Ham. The concernancy, sir? why do we 
+wrap the gentleman in our more rawer breath? 
+
+Osr. Sir? 130 
+
+Hor. Is't not possible to understand in 
+another tongue? You will do't, sir, really. 
+
+Ham. What imports the nomination of 
+this gentleman ? 
+
+Osr. Of Laertes? 
+
+Hor. His purse is empty already; all's 
+golden words are spent. 
+
+Ham. Of him, sir. 
+
+Osr. I know you are not ignorant— {39 
+
+Ham. 1 would you did, sir; yet, in faith, 
+if you did, it would not much approve me. 
+Well, sir? 
+
+Osr. You are not ignorant of what excel- 
+lence Laertes is— 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+1049 
+
+
+Ham. | dare not confess that, lest should 
+compare with him in excellence; but, to know 
+a man well, were to know himself, 
+
+Osr. I mean, sir, for his weapon; but in 
+the imputation laid on him by them, in his 
+meed he's unfellowed. 150 
+
+Ham. What's his weapon > 
+
+Osr. Rapier and dagger. 
+
+Ham. That's two of his weapons: but, 
+well. 
+
+Osr, The king, sir, hath wagered with him 
+six Barbary horses: against the which he has 
+imponed, as I take it, six French rapiers and 
+poniards, with their assigns, as girdle, hangers, 
+and so: three of the carriages, in faith, are 
+very dear to fancy, very responsive to the 
+hilts, most delicate carriages, and of very 
+liberal conceit. 
+
+Ham. What call you the carriages ? 
+
+Hor. I knew you must be edified by the 
+margent ere you had done. 
+
+Osr. The carriages, sir, are the hangers. 
+
+Ham. The phrase would be more german 
+to the matter, if we could carry cannon by 
+our sides: I would it might be hangers till 
+then. But, on: six Barbary horses against six 
+French swords, their assigns, and three lib- 
+eral-conceited carriages; that’s the French 
+bet against the Danish. Why is this ‘im- 
+poned,” as you call it? 
+
+Osr. The king, sir, hath laid, that in a 
+dozen passes between yourself and him, he 
+shall not exceed you three hits: he hath laid 
+on twelve for nine; and it would come to im- 
+mediate trial, if your lordship would vouch- 
+safe the answer. 
+
+Ham. How if I answer ‘no’? 
+
+Osr. 1 mean, my lord, the opposition of 
+your person in trial. 179 
+
+Ham. Sir, I will walk here in the hall: if 
+it please his majesty, ‘tis the breathing time 
+of day with me; let the foils be brought, the 
+gentleman willing, and the king hold his pur- 
+pose, I will win for him an I can; if not, 
+I will gain nothing but my shame and the odd 
+hits. 
+
+Osr. Shall I re-deliver you e’en so? 
+
+Ham. To this effect, sir; after what flour- 
+ish your nature will. 
+
+Osr. I commend my duty to your lordship. 
+
+Ham. Yours, yours. [Exit Osric.] He 
+does well to commend it himself; there are no 
+tongues else for's turn. 
+
+Hor. This lapwing runs aay with the 
+shell on his head. J 
+
+Ham. He did comply with his dug, be- 
+fore he sucked it. Thus has he—and many 
+more of the same breed that I know the 
+drossy age dotes on—only got the tune of the 
+
+
+1050 
+
+
+time and outward habit of encounter; a kind 
+of yesty collection, which carries them through 
+and through the most ffond and winnowed 
+opinions; and do but blow them to their trial, 
+the bubbles are out. 
+
+
+Enter a Lord. 
+
+
+Lord. My lord, his majesty commended 
+him to you by young Osric, who brings back 
+to him, that you attend him in the hall: he 
+sends to know if your pleasure hold to play 
+with Laertes, or that you will take longer 
+ume. 
+
+Ham. | am constant to my purposes; they 
+follow the king’s pleasure: if his fitness speaks, 
+mine is ready; now or whensoever, provided 
+I be so able as now. 211 
+
+Lord. The king and queen and all are 
+coming down. 
+
+Ham. In happy time. 
+
+Lord. The queen desires you to use some 
+gentle entertainment to Laertes before you 
+fall to play. 
+
+
+Ham. She well instructs me. [Exit Lord. 
+Hor. You will lose this wager, my lord. 
+Ham. I do not think so; since he went 
+
+
+into France, I have been in continual practice; 
+I shall win at the odds. But thou wouldst 
+not think how ill all’s here about my heart: 
+but it is no matter. 
+
+Hor. Nay, good my lord,— 
+
+Ham. \t is but foolery; but it is such a 
+kind of gain-giving, as would perhaps trouble 
+a woman. 
+
+Hor. If your mind dislike any thing, obey 
+it: I will forestall their repair hither, and say 
+you are not fit. 229 
+
+Ham. Not a whit, we defy avgury: there ’s 
+a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. 
+If it be now, “tis not to come; if it be not to 
+come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it 
+will come: the readiness is ali: since no man 
+has aught of what he leaves, what is 't to leave 
+betimes? Let be. 
+
+
+Enter Kinc, QuEEN, LaerRTES, Lords, Osric, 
+and Attendants with foils, &c 
+
+
+Kins. Come, Hamlet, come, and take this 
+hand from me. 
+[The King puts Laeries’ hand into Hamlet's. 
+Ham. Give me your pardon, sir: | ‘ve done 
+you wrong; 
+But pardon ’t, as you 
+This presence knows, 
+And you must needs 
+
+
+are a gentleman. 
+
+
+have heard, how I am 
+punish'd 240 
+
+With sore distraction. What I have done, 
+
+That might your nature, honour and excep- 
+tion 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+[Acr V; Se. I 
+
+
+Roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness. 
+Was't Hamlet wrong’d Laertes? Never 
+Hamlet: 
+
+
+If Hamlet from himself be ta’en away, © 
+And when he’s not himself does wei 
+Laertes, 
+Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet defies; it. 
+Who does it, then? His madness: if ’t be so, 
+Hamlet is of the faction that is wrong’d; 
+His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy. 250 
+Sir, in this audience, nw 
+Let my disclaiming from a purposed evil 
+Free me so far in your most generous thoughts, 
+That I have shot mine arrow o’er the house, 
+And hurt my brother, 
+
+
+Laer. I am satisfied in nature, 
+Whose motive, in this case, should stir me.: 
+most 
+
+
+To my revenge: but in my terms of honour 
+
+I stand aloof; and will no reconcilement, 
+Till by some elder masters, of known honour, 
+I have a voice and precedent of peace, » 260 
+To keep my name ungored. But till that 
+
+time, 
+I do receive your offer’d love like love, » 
+And will not wrong it. 
+Ham. I embrace it freely; 
+And will this brother’s wager frankly play. 
+
+
+Give us the foils.. Come on: 
+Laer. Come, one for me. 
+Ham. 1'll be your foil, Laertes: in mine 
+ignorance 
+Your skill shall, like a star i’ the darkest 
+night, : 
+Stick flary off indeed. 
+Laer. You mock me, sir. 
+
+
+Ham. No, by this hand. 
+King. Giveithtm nthe foils, young Osric. 
+Cousin Hamlet, 270 
+You know the wager? 
+Ham. Very well, my lord; 
+Your grace hath laid the odds o’ the weaker 
+side. 
+King. I do not fear it; 
+both: 
+But since he is better’d, we have therefore 
+odds. \ 
+Laer. This is too heayy, let me see an- 
+
+
+other. 7 
+These foils 
+
+
+I have seen you 
+
+
+Ham. This likes me well. 
+haveallalength? [They prepare to play, 
+Osr. Ay, my good. lord. 
+King. Set me the stoups of wine upon 
+that table. 
+If Hamlet give the first or second hit, 
+Or quit in answer of the-third exchange, 280 
+Let all the battlements their ordnance fire; 
+The king shall: drink to Hamlet's better 
+breath; 
+
+
+And in the cup an union shall he throw, 
+
+Richer than that which four successive 
+kings ~ 
+
+In Denmark's crown have worn. 
+
+if the cups; 
+
+And let the kettle to the trumpet speak, 
+
+The trumpet to the cannoneer without, 
+
+The cannons to the heavens, the heavens to 
+
+tae eht-earth, 
+
+‘Now the king drinks to Hamlet.’ 
+begin: 4 
+
+And you, the judges, bear a wary eye. 290 
+
+
+Give me 
+
+
+Come, 
+
+
+am. Come on, sir. 
+Laer. Come, my lord. [They play. 
+Ham. ne. 
+
+Laer. No. 
+
+Ham. Judgement. 
+Osr. A hit, a very palpable hit. 
+
+. Laer. Well; again. 
+
+
+King. Stay; give me drink. Hamlet, this 
+pearl is thine; 
+
+Here's to thy health. 
+
+Trumpets sound, and cannon shot off 
+within. 
+Give him the cup. 
+
+Ham. I'll play this bout first; set it by 
+
+. awhile. 
+
+Come. [They play.] Another hit; what say 
+you? 
+
+Laer. A touch, a touch, I do confess. 
+King. Our son shall win. 
+
+Queen. He's fat, and scant of breath. 
+
+Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy 
+brows: 
+
+____ The queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet. 
+
+Ham. Good madam! 
+
++ King. Gertrude, do not drink. 
+Queen. I will, my lord; I pray you, par- 
+
+don me. 
+
+King. [Aside] It is the poison’d cup: it is 
+
+- too late. 
+
+Ham. | dare not drink yet, madam; by 
+
+and by. 
+
+- Queen, Come, let me wipe thy face. 
+Laer. My lord, I'll hit him now. 
+
+King. I do not think ’t. 
+Laer, {Aside} And yet ‘tis almost: 'gainst 
+my conscience. 
+
+Ham. Come, for the third, Laertes: you 
+
+but dally; 
+
+I pray you, pass with our best violence; 
+
+Tam afeard you make a wanton of me. 310 
+
+‘Laer. Say you so? come on. [They play. 
+
+Osr. Nothing, neither way. 
+
+Laer. Have at you now! 
+
+[Laertes wounds Hamlet; then, in scuf- 
+fling, they change rapiers, and Hamlet 
+wounds Laertes. 
+
+King. Part them; they are incensed. 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+1051 
+
+
+Ham. Nay, come, again. 
+[The Queen falls, 
+Osr. Look to the queen there, ho! 
+Hor. They bleed on both sides. How is 
+it, my lord? 
+Osr. How is't, Laertes? 
+Laer. Why, as a woodcock to mine own 
+springe, Osric; 
+I am justly kill’d with mine own treachery. 
+Ham. How does the queen? 
+King. She swounds to see them bleed. 
+Queen. No, no, the drink, the drink,—O 
+my dear Hamlet,— 320 
+The drink, the drink! I am poison’d. [Dies. 
+
+
+Ham. O villany! Ho! let the door be 
+lock'd: 
+Treachery! Seek it out. 
+
+
+Laer. It is here, Hamlet: Hamlet, thou 
+art slain; 
+No medicine in the world can do thee good; 
+In thee there is not half an hour of life; 
+The treacherous instrument is in thy hand, 
+Unbated and envenom’d: the foul practice 
+Hath turn’d itself on me; lo, here I lie, 329 
+Never to rise again: thy mother’s poison’d: 
+I can no more: the king, the king ’s to blame, 
+Ham. The point envenom'd too! 
+Then, venom, to thy work. [Stabs the King, 
+All. Treason! treason! 
+King. O, yet defend me, friends; I am 
+but hurt. 
+Ham. Here, thou incestuous, murderous, 
+damned Dane, 
+Drink off this potion. 
+Follow my mother. [King dies. 
+Laer. He is justly served; 
+It is a poison temper'd by himself. 
+Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Ham- 
+
+
+Is thy union here? 
+
+
+let: 
+Mine and my father’s death come not upon 
+thee, 34] 
+Nor thine on me! [Dies. 
+
+
+Ham. Heaven make thee free of it! I 
+follow thee. 
+1 am dead, Horatio. Wretched queen, adieu! 
+You that look pale and tremble at this 
+chance, 
+That are but mutes or audience to this act, 
+Had I but time—as this fell sergeant, death, 
+Is strict in his arrest—O, I could tell you— 
+But let it be. Horatio, I am dead; 
+Thou livest; report me and my cause aright 
+To the unsatisfied. 
+Hor. Never believe it: 351 
+I am more an antique Roman than a Dane: 
+Here's yet some liquor left. 
+
+
+Ham. As thou 'rt a man, 
+Give me the cup: let go; by heaven, I ‘Il 
+have 't. ‘ 
+
+
+. 
+
+
+1952 
+
+
+O good Horatio, what a wounded name, 
+Things standing thus unknown, shall live be- 
+hind me! 
+If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, 
+Absent thee from felicity awhile, 
+And in this harsh world draw thy breath in 
+pain, 
+To tell my story. 
+[March afar off, and shot within. 
+What warlike noise is this? 
+Osr. Young Fortinbras, with conquest 
+come from Poland, 361 
+-To the ambassadors of England gives 
+This warlike volley. 
+
+Ham. O, I die, Horatio; 
+The potent poison quite o’er-crows my spirit: 
+I cannot live to hear the news from Eng- 
+
+land; : 
+But I do prophesy the election lights 
+On Fortinbras: he has my dying voice; 
+So tell him, with the occurrents, more and 
+
+
+less,' 
+Which have solicited. The rest is silence. 
+[Dies. 
+Hor. Now cracks a noble heart. Good 
+
+
+night, sweet prince; 370 
+And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest! 
+Why does the drum come hither > 
+
+
+[March within. 
+
+
+Enter Fortinsras, the English Ambassadors, 
+and others. 
+
+
+Fort. Where is this sight? 
+
+Hor. What is it ye would see? 
+4f aught of woe or wonder, cease your 
+
+search. 
+
+Fort. This quarry cries 
+
+proud death, 
+What feast is toward in thine eternal cell, 
+That thou so many princes at a shot 
+So bloodily hast struck ? 
+
+First Amb. The sight is dismal; 
+And our affairs from England come too late: 
+The ears are senseless that should give us 
+
+hearing; 
+To tell him his commandment is fulfill'd, 
+That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead: 
+Where should we have our thanks? 
+
+
+on havoc. O 
+
+
+HAMLET 
+
+
+[Act V,.Sc. II 
+
+
+Hor. Not from his mouth, 
+
+Had it the ability of life to thank you: 
+
+He never gave commandment for their death. 
+
+But since, so jump upon this bloody ques- 
+tion, 
+
+You from the Polack wars, and you from 
+England, 
+
+Are here arrived, give order that these bodies 
+
+High on a stage be placed to the view; 389 
+
+And let me speak to the yet unknowing 
+world 
+
+How these things came about: so shall you 
+hear 
+
+Of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts, 
+
+Of accidental judgements, casual slaughters, 
+
+Of deaths put on by cunning and forced 
+cause, 
+
+And, in this upshot, purposes mistook 
+
+Fall’n on the inventor's heads: all this can | 
+
+Truly deliver. 
+
+Fort. Let us haste to hear it, 
+
+And call the noblest to .the audience. 
+
+For me, with sorrow I embrace my fortune: 
+
+I have some rights of memory in this king- 
+
+
+dom, 
+Which now to claim my vantage doth invite 
+me. 401 
+Hor. Of that I shall have also cause to 
+speak, 
+And from his mouth whose voice will draw 
+on more: 
+
+
+But let this same be presently perform’d, 
+Even while men’s minds are wild; lest more 
+
+
+mischance, 
+On plots and errors, happen. 
+Fort. Let four captains 
+
+
+Bear Hamlet, like a soldier, to the stage; 
+
+For he was likely, had he been put on, 
+
+To have proved most royally: and, for his 
+passage, 
+
+The soldiers’ music and the rites of war 410 
+
+Speak loudly for him. 
+
+Take up the bodies: such a sight as this 
+
+Becomes the field, but here shows much 
+amiss. 
+
+
+80 | Go, bid the soldiers shoot. 
+
+
+[A dead march. Exeunt, bearing off the 
+dead bodies; afler which a peal of 
+
+
+ordnance is shot off. 
+
+
+on 
+
+
+KING 
+
+
+LEAR 
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSON/E 
+
+
+Lear, king of Britain. 
+
+Kinc oF FRANCE. 
+
+Duke or Burcunpy. 
+
+DuxeE or CorNWALL. 
+
+DuKke oF ALBANY. 
+
+Ear oF Kent. 
+
+Eart or GLOucesTER. 
+
+Epcar, son to Gloucester. 
+EDMUND, bastard son to Gloucester. 
+CuRAN, a courtier. 
+
+Old Man, tenant to Gloucester. 
+Doctor. 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+
+
+Scene I. King Lear's palace. 
+Enter Kent, Gloucester, and EpMuND. 
+
+
+Kent. I thought the king had more affected 
+the Duke of Albany than Cornwall. 
+
+Glow. It did always seem so to us: but 
+now, in the division of the kingdom, it appears 
+not which of the dukes he values most; for 
+equalities are so weighed, that curiosity in 
+neither can make choice of either’s moiety. 
+
+Kent. Is not this your son, my lord? 
+
+Glou. His breeding, sir, hath been at my 
+charge: I have so often blushed to acknowledge 
+him, that now I am brazed to it. i 
+
+Kent. I cannot conceive you. 
+
+Glou, Sir, this young fellow’s mother could: 
+whereupon she grew round-wombed, and had 
+indeed, sir, a son for her cradle ere she had a 
+husband for her bed. Do you smell a fault? 
+
+
+Kent. I cannot wish the fault undone, the | 
+
+
+issue of it being so proper. 
+
+Glou. But I have, sir, a son by order of 
+law, some year elder than this, who yet is no 
+dearer in my account: though this knave came 
+something saucily into the world before he was 
+sent for, yet was his mother fair; there was 
+good sport at his making, and the whoreson 
+must be acknowledged. Do you know this 
+noble gentleman, Edmund? 
+
+Edm. No, my lord. 
+
+Glou. My lord of Kent: remember him 
+hereafter as my honourable friend. 
+
+Edm. My services to your lordship. 
+
+ent. I must love you, and sue to know 
+you better. 31 
+
+Edm. Sir, I shall study deserving. 
+
+Glou. He hath been out nine years, and 
+away he shall again. The king is coming. 
+
+
+Fool. 
+
+OswaLp, steward to Goneril. 
+
+A Captain employed by Edmund. 
+
+Gentleman attendant on Cordelia. , 
+
+A Herald. 
+
+Servants to Cornwall. 
+
+GOneERIL, 
+
+REGAN, 
+
+CorDELIA, 
+Knights of Lear’s train, Captains, Messengers, 
+
+Soldiers, and Attendants. 
+Scene: Britain, 
+
+
+daughters to Lear. 
+
+
+Sennet. Enter Kinc Lear, CoRNWALL, AL- 
+BANY, GONERIL, REGAN, CORDELIA, and 
+Attendants. 
+
+
+Lear. Attend the lords of France and Bur- 
+gundy, Gloucester. 
+Glou. I shall, my liege. 
+[Exeunt Gloucester and Edmund. 
+Lear. Meantime we shall express our 
+darker purpose. 
+Give me the map there. 
+divided 
+In three our kingdom: and ‘tis our fast intent 
+To shake all cares and business from our age; 
+Conferring them on younger strengths, while 
+
+
+Know that we have 
+
+
+we 4] 
+Unburthen'd crawl toward death. Our son of 
+Cornwall, 
+
+
+And you, our no less loving son of Albany, 
+We have this hour a constant will to publish 
+Our daughters’ several dowers, that future strife 
+May be prevented now. The princes, France 
+and Burgundy, 
+Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love, 
+Long in our court have made their amorous 
+sojourn, 
+And here are.to be answer'd. Tell me, my 
+daughters,— 
+Since now we will divest us, both of rule, 50 
+Interest of territory, cares of state,— 
+Which of you shall we say doth love us most? 
+That our largest bounty may extend 
+Where nature doth with merit ‘challenge. 
+Goneril, 
+Our eldest-born. speak first. 
+Gon. Sir, I love you more than words can 
+wield the matter; 
+Dearer than eye-sight, space, and liberty; 
+Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare; 
+
+
+1053 
+
+
+1054 
+
+
+No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, 
+honour; ¢ 
+As much as child e’er loved, or father found; 
+A love that makes breath poor, and speech 
+unable; 61 
+Beyond all manner of so much I love you. 
+Cor. [Aside] What shall Cordelia do? 
+Love, and be silent. 
+Lear. Of all these bounds, even from this 
+line to this, : 
+With shadowy forest and with champains 
+rich'd, 
+With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads, 
+We make thee lady: to thine and Albany’s issue 
+Be this perpetual. What says our second 
+daughter, 
+Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall? Speak. 
+
+Reg. Sir, I am made 70 
+Of the self-same metal that my sister is, 
+
+And prize me at her worth. In my true heart 
+
+I-find she names my very deed of love; 
+
+Only she comes too short: that I profess 
+
+Myself an enemy to all other joys, 
+
+Which the most precious square of sense 
+possesses ; _ 
+
+And find I am alone felicitate 
+
+In your dear highness’ love. 
+
+Cor. [Aside] Then’ poor Cordelia! 
+And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love's 
+More richer than my tongue, 80 
+
+Lear. To thee and thine hereditary ever 
+Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom; 
+No less in space, validity, and pleasure, 
+Than that conferr’d on Goneril. Now, our joy, 
+Although the last, not least; to whose young 
+
+love 
+The vines of France and milk of Burgundy 
+Strive to be interess’d; what can you say to 
+draw 
+A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak. 
+Cor. Nothing, my lord. 
+
+
+Lear. Nothing! 90 
+
+Cor. Nothing. 
+
+Lear. Nothing will come of nothing: speak 
+again. 
+
+
+Cor. Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave 
+My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty 
+According to my bond; nor more nor less, 
+
+Lear. How, how, Cordelia!’ mend your 
+
+speech a little, 
+Lest it may mar your fortunes. 
+
+Cor. Good my lord, 
+You have begot me, bred me, loved me: I 
+Return those duties back as are right fit, 
+Obey you, love you, and most honour you. 100 
+
+y have my sisters husbands, if they say 
+They loved you all? Haply, when I shali wed, 
+That lord whose hand must take my plight 
+
+shall carry 
+
+
+KING LEAR 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc, I 
+
+
+Half my love with him, half my care and duty : 
+Sure, I shall never marry like my sisters, 
+To love my father all. 
+Lear. But goes thy heart with this? 
+Cor. Ay, good my lord, 
+Lear. So young, and so untender? 
+Cor. So young, my lord, and true. 
+Lear. Let it be so; thy truth, then, be thy 
+dower: 110 
+For, by the sacred radiance of the sun, 
+The mysteries of Hecate, and the night; 
+By all the operation of the orbs 
+From whom we do exist, and cease to be; 
+Here I disclaim all my paternal care, 
+Propinquity and property of blood, 
+And as a stranger to my heart and me 
+Hold thee, from this, for ever. The barbarous 
+Scythian, 
+Or he that makes his generation messes 
+To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom 120 
+Be as well neighbour’d, pitied, and relieved, 
+As thou my sometime daughter, 
+Kent. Good my liege,— 
+Lear, Peace, Kent. 
+Come not between the dragon and his wrath. 
+I loved her most, and thought to set my rest 
+On her kind nursery, Hence, and avoid my 
+sight! 
+So be my grave my peace, as here I give 
+Her father’s heart from her! Call France; 
+who stirs? . 
+Call Burgundy. Cornwall and Albany, 
+With my two daughters’ dowers digest this 
+third: 130 
+Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her. 
+I do invest you jointly with my power, 
+re-eminence, and all the large effects 
+That troop with majesty. Ourself, by monthly 
+course, 
+With reservation of an hundred knights, 
+By you to be sustain’d, shall our abode 
+Make with you by due turns. Only we still 
+retain 
+The name, and all the additions to a king; 
+The sway, revenue, execution of the rest, 
+Beloved sons, be yours: which to confirm, 140 
+This coronet part betwixt you. 
+[Giving the crown. 
+Kent. Royal Lear, 
+Whom I have ever honour’d as my king, 
+Loved as my father, as my master follow’d, 
+As my great patron thought on in my prayers,— 
+Lear. The bow is bent and drawn, make 
+from the shaft. 
+Kent. Let it fall rather, though the fork 
+invade 
+The region of my heart: be Kent unmannerly, 
+When Lear is mad. What wilt thou do, old 
+
+
+man? 
+
+
+Think’st thou that duty shall have dread to 
+< speak, 
+When power to flattery bows? To plainness 
+honour’s bound, 150 
+When majesty stoops to folly. Reverse thy 
+doom; 
+And, in thy best consideration, check 
+This hideous rashness: answer my life my 
+judgement, 
+f pibreisenneest daughter does not love thee 
+east; r 
+Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sound 
+Reverbs no hollowness. 
+Lear. Kent, on thy life, no more. 
+Kent. My life I never held but as a pawn 
+To wage against thy enemies; nor fear to lose 
+
+
+it, 
+Thy safety being the motive. 
+Lear. Out of my sight! 
+Kent, See better, Lear; and let me still 
+remain 160 
+The true blank of thine eye. 
+Lear. Now, by Apollo,— 
+Kent. Now, by Apollo, king, 
+Thou swear’st thy gods in vain. 
+
+
+_ Lear. O, vassal! miscréant! 
+[Laying his hand on his sword. 
+i t Dear sir, forbear. 
+orn. 
+Kent. Do; 
+
+
+____ Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow 
+___ Upon thy foul disease. Revoke thy doom; 
+Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat, 
+I'll tell. thee thou dost evil. 
+Lear. Hear me, recreant! 
+-On thine allegiance, hear me! 170 
+_ Since thou hast sought to make us break our 
+vow, 
+
+Which we durst never yet, and with strain’d 
+pride 
+
+To come between our sentence and our power, 
+
+Which nor our nature nor our place can 
+bear, 
+
+Our potency made good, take thy reward. 
+
+Five days we do allot thee, for provision 
+
+To shield thee from diseases of the world; 
+
+And on the sixth to turn thy hated back 
+
+Upon our kingdom: if, on the tenth day 
+following, 179 
+
+Thy banish’d trunk be found in our dominions, 
+
+The moment is thy death, Away! by Jupiter, 
+
+This shall not be revoked. 
+
+, Kent. Fare thee well, king: sith thus thou 
+wilt appear, 
+
+Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here. 
+
+[To Cordelia] The gods to: their dear shelter 
+take thee, maid, 
+
+That pulls think’st, and hast most rightly 
+said! 
+
+
+KING LEAR 
+
+
+Md 
+1055 
+
+
+[To Regan and Goneril] And your large 
+speeches may your deeds approve, 
+
+That good effects may spring from words of 
+love. 
+
+Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu; 
+
+He 'Il shape his old course in a country new. 
+
+
+[Exit 
+
+
+Flourish. Re-enter GLOUCESTER, with 
+France, Burcunpy, and Attendants, 
+
+
+Glou. Here’s France and Burgundy, my 
+noble lord. 19] 
+
+Lear. My lord of Burgundy, 
+
+We “i address towards you, who with this 
+ing 
+
+Hath rivall'’d for our daughter: what, in the 
+least, 
+
+Will you require in present dower with her, 
+
+Or cease your quest of love? 
+
+Bar. Most royal majesty, 
+I crave no more than what your highness offer’d, 
+Nor will you tender less. 
+
+Lear. Right noble Burgundy, 
+When she was dear to us, we did hold her so; 
+But now her price is fall’n. Sir, there she 
+
+stands: 200 
+If aught within that little seeming substance,. 
+Or all of it, with our displeasure pieced, 
+And nothing more, may fitly like your grace, 
+She ’s there, and she is yours. 
+Bur. I know no answer. 
+Lear. Will you, with those infirmities she 
+owes, 
+Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate, 
+Dower'd with our curse, and stranger’d with 
+
+
+our oath, 
+Take her, or leave her? 
+Bur. Pardon me, royal sir; 
+
+
+Election makes not up on such conditions. 
+Lear. Then leave her, sir; for, by the 
+
+power that made me, 216 
+
+I tell you all her wealth. [To France] For 
+you, great king, 
+
+I would not from your love make such a 
+stray, 
+
+To match you where I hate! therefore be- 
+seech you 
+
+To avert your liking a more worthier way 
+
+Than on a wretch whom nature is ashamed 
+
+Almost to acknowledge hers. 
+
+France. This is most strange, 
+
+That she, that even but now was your best 
+object, 
+
+The argument of your praise, balm of your age, 
+
+Most best, most dearest, should in this trice 
+of time 219 
+
+Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle 
+
+So many folds of favour. Sure, her offence 
+
+
+1056 
+
+
+KING LEAR 
+
+
+[Acr I, Se. I 
+
+
+Must be of such unnatural degree, 
+
+That monsters it, or your fore-vouch’d affection 
+Fall'n into taint: which to believe of her, 
+Must be a faith that reason without miracle 
+Could never plant in me. 
+
+Cor. I yet beseech your majesty,— 
+If for I want that glib and oily art, 
+
+To speak and purpose not; since what I well 
+intend, 
+
+I'll do 't before I speak,—that you make known 
+
+It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness, 230 
+
+No unchaste action, or dishonour'd step, 
+
+That hath deprived me of your grace and 
+favour; 
+
+But even for want of that for which I am 
+richer, 
+
+A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue 
+
+As I am glad I have not, though not to have it 
+
+Hath lost me in your liking. 
+
+Lear. Better thou 
+Hadst not been born than not to have pleased 
+
+me better. 
+
+France. Is it but this,—a tardiness in nature 
+Which often leaves the history unspoke 239 
+That it intends todo? My lord of Burgundy, 
+What say you to the lady? Love's not love 
+When it is mingled with regards that stand 
+Aloof from the entire point. Will you have 
+
+
+her? : 
+She is herself a dowry. 
+Bur. Royal Lear, 
+
+
+Give but this portion which yourself proposed, 
+And here I take Cordelia by the hand, 
+Duchess of Burgundy. 
+
+Lear. Nothing: I have sworn; | am firm. 
+
+Bur. I am sorry, then, you have so lost a 
+
+father 
+That you must lose a husband. 
+
+Cor. Peace be with Burgundy! 
+Since that respects of fortune are his love, 251 
+I shall not be his wife. 
+
+France. Fairest Cordelia, that art most 
+
+rich, being poor; 
+Most choice, forsaken; and most loved, de- 
+spised! 
+Thee and thy. virtues I seize upon: 
+Be it lawful I take up what's cast away. 
+Gods, gods! "tis strange that from their cold’st 
+neglect 
+My. love should kindle to inflamed respect. 
+Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my 
+chance, 
+Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France: 
+Not all the dukes of waterish Burgundy 26] 
+Can buy this unprized precious maid of me. 
+Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind: 
+Thou losest here, a better where to find. 
+Lear. Thou hast her, France: let her be 
+
+
+thine; for we 
+
+
+Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see 
+That face of hers again. Therefore be gone 
+Without our grace, our love, our benison. 
+Come, noble Burgundy. 
+[Flourish. Exeunt all but France. 
+Goneril, Regan, and Cordelia. 
+France. Bid farewell to your sisters. 270 
+Cor. The jewels of our father, with wash'd 
+eyes 
+Cordelia leaves you: I know you what you 
+are; 
+And like a sister am most loath to call 
+Your faults as they are named. Use well our 
+father: 
+To your professed bosoms I commit him: 
+But yet, alas, stood | within his grace, 
+I would prefer him to a better place. 
+So, farewell to you both. 
+Reg. Prescribe not us our duties. 
+Gon. Let your study 279 
+Be to content your lord, who hath received 
+you 
+At fortune’s alms. You have obedience scanted, 
+And well are worth the want that you have 
+wanted. 
+Cor. Time shall unfold what plaited cun- 
+ning hides: 
+Who cover faults, at last shame them derides. 
+Well may you prosper! 
+France. Come, my fair Cordelia. 
+[Exeuni France and Cordelia. 
+Gon. Sister, it is not a little I have to say 
+of what most nearly appertains to us both. 
+I think our father will hence to-night. 
+Reg. That's most certain, and with you; 
+next month with Us. 290 
+Gon. You see how full of changes his age 
+
+
+is; the observation we have made of it hath’ 
+
+
+not been little: he always loved our sister 
+most; and with what poor judgement he hath 
+now cast her off appears too grossly. 
+
+Reg. ‘Tis the infirmity of his age: yet he 
+hath ever but slenderly known himself, 
+
+Gon. The best and soundest of his time 
+hath been but rash; then must we look to re- 
+ceive from his age, not alone the imperfections 
+of long-engraffed condition, but therewithal the 
+unruly waywardness that infirm and choleric 
+years bring with them. 
+
+Reg. Such unconstant starts are we like to 
+
+have from him as this of Kent's banishment. 
+‘ Gon. There is further compliment of leave- 
+taking between France and him. Pray you, 
+let ’s hit together: if our father carry authority 
+with such dispositions as he bears, this last 
+surrender of his will but offend us. 310 
+
+Reg. We shall further think on’t. 
+
+Gon. We must do something, and i’ the heat, 
+
+Exeunt, 
+
+
+oa 
+
+
+De, en ee 
+
+
+ae 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+Act I, Se. I] 
+
+
+KING LEAR 
+
+
+1057 
+
+
+Scene Il. The Earl of Gloucester’s castle. 
+Enter EDMuND, with a letter. 
+
+
+Edm. Thou, nature, art my goddess; to 
+
+thy law 
+
+My services are bound. Wherefore should | 
+
+Stand in the plague of custom, and permit 
+
+The curiosity of nations to deprive me, 
+
+For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon- 
+shines 
+
+Lag of a brother? Why bastard? wherefore 
+base > 
+
+When my dimensions are as well compact, 
+
+My mind as generous, and my shape as true, 
+
+As honest madam’s issue? Why brand they us 
+
+With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, 
+base ? 10 
+
+Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take 
+
+More composition and fierce quality 
+
+Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed, 
+
+Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops, 
+
+Got "tween asleep and wake? Well, then, 
+
+Legitimate Edgar, I must have your hand: 
+
+Our father’s love is to the bastard Edmund 
+
+As to the legitimate: fine word,—legitimate! 
+
+Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed, 
+
+And my invention thrive, Edmund the base 20 
+
+Shall top the legitimate. I grow; I prosper: 
+
+Now, gods, stand up for bastards! 
+
+
+Enter GLOUCESTER. 
+
+
+Glou. Kent banish’d thus! and France in 
+choler parted! 
+And the king gone to-night! subscribed his 
+power! 
+_ Confined to exhibition! All this done 
+Upon thegad! Edmund, how now! whatnews? 
+Edm. So please your lordship, none. 
+[Putting up the letter. 
+Glou. Why so earnestly seek you to put up 
+that letter ? 
+Edm. f know no news, my lord. 
+
+
+Glou. What paper were you reading? 30 
+Edm. Nothing, my lord. 
+Glou. No? What needed, then, that terrible 
+
+
+dispatch of it into your pocket? the quality of 
+nothing hath not such need to hide itself. Let's 
+see: come, if it be nothing, I shall not need 
+spectacles. 
+
+Edm. | beseech you, sir, pardon me: it is a 
+letter from my brother, that I have not all 
+o’er-read; and for so much as I have perused, 
+I find it not fit for your o’er-looking. 40 
+
+‘Glou. Give me the letter, sir. 
+
+Edm. | shall offend, either to detain or give 
+it. The contents, as in part I understand them, 
+are to blame. 
+
+Glou. Let's see, let's see. 
+
+Edm. I hope, for my brother's justification, 
+
+
+he wrote this but as an essay or taste of my 
+virtue, 
+
+Glou. [Reads] ‘This policy and reverence of 
+age makes the world bitter to the best of our 
+times; keeps our fortunes from us till our 
+oldness cannot relish them, I begin to find an 
+idle and fond bondage in the oppression of aged 
+tyranny; who sways, not as it hath power, but 
+as it is suffered. Come to me, that of this I 
+may speak more. If our father would sleep till 
+I waked him, you should enjoy half his revenue 
+for ever, and live the beloved of your brother, 
+
+Epcar.’ 
+Hum—conspiracy !—‘Sleep till I waked him,— 
+you should enjoy half his.revenue,—My son 
+Edgar! Had he a hand to write this? a heart 
+and brain to breed it in?—When came this to 
+you? who brought it? 
+
+Edm. It was not brought me, my lord; 
+there 's the cunning of it: I found it thrown in 
+at the casement of my closet. 
+
+Glou. You know the character to be your 
+brother's ? 
+
+Edm. If the matter were good, my lord, I 
+durst swear it were his; but, in respect of that, 
+I would fain think it were not. 
+
+Glou. It is his. 
+
+Edm. It is his hand, my lord; but I hope 
+his heart is not in the contents. 
+
+Glou. Hath he never heretofore sounded 
+you in this business? 
+
+Edm. Never, my lord: but I have heard 
+him oft maintain it to be fit, that, sons at 
+perfect age, and fathers declining, the father 
+should be as ward to the son, and the son 
+manage his *evenue. 
+
+Glou. O villain, villain! His very opinion 
+in the letter! Abhorred villain! Unnatural, 
+detested, brutish villain! worse than brutish! 
+Go, sirrah, seek him; I'll apprehend him: 
+abominable villain! Where is he? 
+
+Edm. | do not well know, my lord. If it 
+shall please you to suspend your indignation 
+against my brother till you can derive from him 
+better testimony of his intent, you shall run a 
+certain course; where, if you violently proceed 
+against him, mistaking his purpose, it would 
+make a great gap in your own honour, and 
+shake in pieces the heart of his obedience. I 
+dare pawn down my life for him, that he hath 
+wrote this to feel my affection to your honour, 
+and to no further pretence of danger. 
+
+Glou. Think you so? 
+
+Edm. If your honour judge it meet, I will 
+place you where you shall hear us confer of 
+this, and by an auricular assurance have your 
+satisfaction; and that without any further de- 
+lay than this, very evening. 101 
+
+Glou. He cannot be such a monster— 
+
+
+1058 
+
+
+KING LEAR 
+
+
+Edm. Nor is not, sure. 
+
+Glou. To his father, that so tenderly and 
+entirely loves him. Heaven and earth! Ed- 
+mund, seek him out; wind me into him, I pray 
+you: frame the business after your own wisdom, 
+I would unstate myself, to be in a due resolu- 
+tion. 
+
+Edm.. | will ssek him, sir, presently; con- 
+vey the business as I shall find means, and ac- 
+quaint you withal. U1 
+
+Glou. These late eclipses in the sun and 
+moon portend no good to us: though the 
+wisdom of nature can reason it thus and thus, 
+yet nature finds itself scourged by the sequent 
+effects: love cools, friendship falls off, brothers 
+divide: in cities, mutinies; in countries, dis- 
+cord; in palaces, treason; and the bond cracked 
+"twixt son and father. This villain of mine 
+comes under the prediction; there ’s son against 
+father: the king falls from bias of nature; 
+there ’s father against child. We have seen the 
+best of our time: machinations, hollowness, 
+treachery, and all ruinous disorders, follow us 
+disquietly to our graves. Find out this villain, 
+Edmund; it shall lose thee nothing; do it care- 
+fully. And the noble and true-hearted Kent 
+banished! his offence, honesty! "Tis strange. 
+
+[Exit. 
+
+Edm. This is the excellent foppery of the 
+world, that, when we are sick in fortune,—often 
+the surfeit of our own behaviour,—we make 
+guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and 
+the stars: as if we were villains by necessity; 
+fools by heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, 
+and treachers, by spherical predominance; 
+drunkards, liars, and adulterers, by an enforced 
+
+_ obedience of planetary influence; and all that 
+
+we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on: an 
+admirable evasion of whoremaster man, to lay 
+his goatish disposition to the charge of a star! 
+My father compounded with my mother under 
+the dragon’s tail; and my nativity was under 
+Ursa major; so that it follows, I am rough and 
+lecherous. Tut, I should have been that I am, 
+had the maidenliest star in the firmament 
+twinkled on my bastardizing. Edgar— 
+
+
+Enter Epcar. 
+
+
+and pat he comes like the catastrophe of the 
+old comedy: my cue is villanous melancholy, 
+with a sigh like Tom o° Bedlam. O, these 
+eclipses do portend these divisions! fa, sol, la, mi. 
+Edg. How now, brother Edmund! what 
+_ serious contemplation are you in? 151 
+Edm. | am thinking, brother, of a predic- 
+tion I read this other day, what should follow 
+these eclipses. 
+Edg. Do you busy yourself about that? 
+Edm. 1 promise you, the effects he writes of 
+
+
+succeed unhappily; as of unnaturalness between 
+the child and the parent; death, dearth, disso- 
+lutions of ancient amities; divisions in state, 
+menaces and maledictions against king and 
+nobles; needless diffidences, banishment of 
+friends, dissipation of cohorts, nuptial breaches, 
+and I know not what. 
+
+Edg. How long have you been a sectary 
+astronomical ? 
+
+Edm. Come, come; when saw you my 
+father last? 
+
+Edg. Why, the night gone by. 
+
+Edm. Spake you with him? 
+
+Edg. Ay, two hours together. 170 
+
+Edm. Parted you in good terms? Found 
+you no displeasure in him by word or countee 
+nance >? 
+
+Edg. None at all. 
+
+Edm. Bethink yourself wherein you may 
+have offended him: and at my entreaty forbear 
+his presence till some little time hath qualified 
+the heat of his displeasure; which at this 
+instant so rageth in him, that with the mischief 
+of your person it would scarcely allay. 179 
+
+Edg. Some villain hath done me wrong. 
+
+Edm. That’s my fear. I pray you, have a 
+continent forbearance till the speed of his rage 
+goes slower; and, as I say, retire with me to 
+my lodging, from whence I will fitly bring you 
+to hear my lord speak: pray ye, go; there’s 
+my key: if you do stir abroad, go armed. 
+
+Edg. Armed, brother! 
+
+Edm. Brother, | advise you to the best; go 
+armed: I am no Honest man if there be any 
+good meaning towards you: I have told you 
+what I have seen and heard; but faintly, 
+nothing like the image and horror ef it: pray 
+you, away. 
+
+Edg. Shall I hear from you anon? 
+
+Edm. 1 do serve you in this business. 
+
+[Exit Edgar, 
+A credulous father! and a brother noble, 
+Whose nature is so far from doing harms, 
+That he suspects none; on whose foolish 
+
+honesty 
+
+My practices ride easy! I see the business. 
+Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit: 199 
+All with me's meet that I can fashion fit. 
+
+
+(Exit. 
+
+
+Scene III. The Duke of Albany's palace, 
+Enter GoneriL, and Oswatp, her steward, 
+
+
+Gon. Did my father strike my gentleman 
+for chiding of his fool? 
+Osm. Yes, madam. 
+Gon. By day and night he wrongs me; 
+every hour 
+He flashes into one gross crime or other, 
+That sets us all at odds: I'll not endure it: 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. III 
+
+
+—_—-— 
+
+
+’ “aes 
+
+
+Le es 
+
+
+a. 
+
+
+er I, SIV] 
+His knights grow riotous, and himself up- 
+braids us 
+On every trifle. When he returns from hunt- 
+ing, ; 
+I will not speak with him; say I am sick: 
+If you come slack of former services, 
+You shall do well; the fault of it 1 ll answer. 
+Osw. He's coming, madam; | hear him. 
+[Horns within. 
+Gon. Put on what weary negligence you 
+please, 
+You and your fellows; 1 ‘Id have it come to 
+question: 
+‘It he dislike it, let him to our sister, 
+‘Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are 
+‘one, 
+Not to be over-ruled. Idle old man, 
+That still would manage those authorities 
+That he hath given away! Now, by my life, 
+Old fools are babes again; and must be used 
+With checks as flatteries,—when they are seen 
+abused. 
+Remember what | tell you. 
+Osw. Well, madam. 
+Gon. And let his knights have colder looks 
+among you; 
+hat grows of it, no matter; advise your 
+fellows so: 
+I would breed from hence occasions, and [| shall, 
+That I may speak: I'll write straight to my 
+sister, 
+To hold my very course. Prepare for dinner. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. A hall in the same. 
+Enter KENT, disguised. 
+
+
+Kent. If but as well I other accents borrow, 
+at can my speech defuse, my good intent 
+May carry through itself to that full issue 
+For which I razed my likeness. Now, banish’d 
+Kent, 
+If thou canst serve where thou dost stand 
+condemn’d, 
+So may it come, thy master, whom thou lovest, 
+Shall find thee full of labours. 
+Horns within. Enter Lear, Knights, 
+and Attendants. : 
+Lear, Let me not stay a jot for dinner; go 
+get it ready. [Exit an Altendant.] How now! 
+
+
+what art thou? 10 
+Kent. A man, sir. 
+Lear. What dost thou profess? what 
+
+
+wouldst thou with us? 
+
+Kent; I do profess to be no less than I 
+‘seem; to serve him truly that will put me in 
+trust; to love him that is honest; to converse 
+with him that is wise, and says little; to fear 
+judgement; to fight when | cannot choose; and 
+to eat no fish. 
+
+
+KING LEAR 
+
+
+1059 
+
+
+Lear. What art thou? 
+
+Kent. A very honest-hearted fellow, and 
+as poor as the king. 21 
+
+Lear. If thou be as poor for a subject as 
+he is for a king, thou art poor enough, What 
+wouldst thou? 
+
+
+Kent. Service. 
+
+Lear. Who wouldst thou serve? 
+
+Kent. You. 
+
+Lear. Dost thou know me, fellow? 
+
+Kent. No, sir; but you have that in your 
+
+
+countenance which I would fain call master. 30 
+
+Lear, What's that? 
+
+Kent. Authority. 
+
+Lear. What services canst thou do? 
+
+Kent. 1 can keep honest counsel, ride, run, 
+mar a curious tale m telling it, and deliver a 
+plain message bluntly: that which ordinary 
+men are fit for, I am qualified in; and the best 
+of me is diligence. 
+
+Lear. How old art thou? 39 
+
+Kent. Not. so young, sir, to love a woman 
+for singing, nor so old to dote on her for any 
+thing: I have years on my back forty eight. 
+
+Lear. Follow me; thou shalt serve me: if I 
+like thee no worse after dinner, | will not part 
+from thee yet. Dinner, ho dinner! Where's 
+my knave? my fool? Go you, and call my 
+fool hither. [Exit an Attendant. 
+
+
+Enter Oswap. 
+
+
+You, you, sirrah, where ’s my daughter? 
+Osw. So please you,— [Exit. 
+Lear. What says the fellow there? Call 
+
+the clotpoll back. [Exit a Knight.] Where's 
+
+my fool, ho? I think the world’s asleep, 
+
+
+Re-enter Knight. 
+
+
+How now! where’s that mongrel? 
+
+Knight. He says, my lord, your daughter 
+is not well. 
+
+Lear. Why came not the slave back to me 
+when I called him? 
+
+Knight. Sir, he answered me in the round- 
+est manner, he would not. 
+
+Lear. He would not! 1 60 
+
+Knight. My lord, I know not what the mat- 
+ter is; but, to my judgement, your highness is 
+not entertained with that ceremonious affection 
+as you were wont; there’s a great abatement 
+of kindness appears as well in the general de- 
+pendants as in the duke himself also and 
+your daughter. 
+
+Lear: Ha! sayest thou so? ~ 
+
+Knight. I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, 
+if I be mistaken; for my duty cannot be silent 
+when I think your highness wronged. 7\ 
+
+Lear. Thou but rememberest me of mine 
+own conception: | have perceived a most faint 
+j neglect of late; which I have rather blamed as 
+
+
+1060 
+
+
+KING LEAR 
+
+
+[Act I, Sc. IV 
+
+
+mine own jealous curiosity than as a very pre- 
+tence and purpose of unkindness: I will look 
+further into"t. But where's my fool? I have 
+not seen him this two days. 
+
+Knight. Since my young lady's going to 
+France, sir, the fool hath much pined away. 80 
+
+Lear. No move of that; I have noted it 
+well. Go you, and tell my daughter I would 
+speak with her. [Exit an Attendant.] Go you, 
+zall hither my fool. [Exit an Attendant. 
+
+
+Re-enter Oswa tp. 
+
+
+O, you sir, you, come you hither, sir: who am 
+I, sir? 
+
+Osw. My lady's father. 
+
+Lear. ‘My lady's father’! my lord’s knave: 
+you whoreson dog! you slave! you cur! 
+
+Osw. I am none of these, my lord; I be- 
+seech your pardon, 91 
+
+Lear. Do you bandy looks with me, you 
+rascal ? [Striking him. 
+
+Osm. I'll not be struck, my lord. 
+
+Kent. Nor tripped neither, you base foot- 
+ball player. [Tripping up his heels. 
+
+Lear. 1 thank thee, fellow; thou servest 
+me, and |'ll love thee. 
+
+Kent. Come, sir, arise, away! I'll teach 
+you differences: away, away! If you will 
+measure your lubber’s length again, tarry: but 
+away! go to; have you wisdom? so. 
+
+[Pushes Oswald out. 
+
+Lear. Now, my friendly knave, I thank 
+thee: there's earnest of thy service. 
+
+[Giving Keni money. 
+
+
+Enter Fool. 
+
+
+Fool. Let me hire him too: here's my cox- 
+comb, [Offering Kent his cap. 
+
+Lear. How now, my pretty knave! how 
+dost thou > 
+
+Fool. Sirrah, you were best take my cox- 
+comb. 
+
+Kent. Why, fool? 
+
+Fool. Why, for taking one’s part that’s out 
+of favour: nay, an thou canst not smile as the 
+wind sits, thou “lt catch cold shortly: there, 
+take my coxcomb: why, this fellow has banished 
+two on ’s daughters, and did the third a blessing 
+against his will; if thou follow him, thou must 
+needs wear my coxcomb. How now, nuncle! 
+Would I had two coxcombs and two daughters! 
+
+Lear. Why, my boy? 119 
+
+Fool. If I gave them all my living, I ‘Id 
+keep my coxcombs myself. There’s mine; 
+beg another of thy daughters. ~ 
+
+Lear. Take heed, sirrah; the whip. 
+
+Fool. Truth’s a dog must to kennel; he 
+must be whipped out, when Lady the brach 
+may stand by the fire ard stink. 
+
+
+. 
+
+
+Lear. 
+Fool. 
+Lear. Do. 
+
+Fool. Mark it, nuncle: 
+
+Have more than thou showest, 
+Speak less than thou knowest, 
+Lend less than thou owest, 
+Ride more than thou goest, 
+Learn more than thou trowest, 
+Set less than thou throwest; 
+Leave thy drink and thy whore, 
+And keep in-a-door, 
+
+And thou shalt have more 
+Than two tens to a score. 140 
+
+Kent. This is nothing, fool. 
+
+Fool. Then ‘tis like the breath of an un- 
+fee’d lawyer; you gave me nothing for ‘t. Can 
+you make no use of nothing, nuncle? 
+
+Lear. Why, no, boy; nothing can be made 
+out of nothing. - 
+
+Fool. [To Kent] Prithee, tell him, so much 
+the rent of his land comes to: he will not 
+
+
+believe a fool. 
+150 
+
+
+A pestilent gall to me! 
+Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech. 
+
+
+130 
+
+
+Lear. A bitter fool! 
+Fool. Dost thou know the difference, my 
+boy, between a bitter fool and a sweet fool? 
+Lear. No, lad; teach me. 
+Fool. That lord that counsell’d thee 
+To give away thy land, 
+Come place him here by me, 
+Do thou for him stand: 
+The sweet and bitter fool 
+Will presently appear; 
+The one in motley here, 
+The other found out there. 
+Lear. Dost thou call me fool, boy > 
+Fool. All thy other titles thou hast given 
+away; that thou wast born with. 
+Kent. This is not altogether fool, my lord. 
+Fool. No, faith, lords and great men will 
+not let me; if I had a monopoly out, they 
+would have part on 't: and ladies too, they will 
+not let me have all fool to myself; they ‘Il be 
+snatching. Give me an egg, nuncle, and I ‘Il 
+give thee two crowns. 171 
+Lear. What two crowns shall they be? 
+Fool. Why, after I have cut the egg i’ the 
+middle, and eat up the meat, the two crowns 
+of the egg. When thou clovest thy crown i’ 
+the middle, and gavest away both parts, thou 
+borest thy ass on thy back o'er the dirt: thou 
+hadst little wit in thy bald crown, when thou 
+gavest thy golden one away. If I speak like 
+myself in this, let him be whipped that first 
+finds it so, 180 
+[Singing] Fools had ne'er less wit in a year; 
+For wise men are grown foppish, 
+They know not how their wits to wear, 
+Their manners are so azish. 
+
+
+160 
+
+
+~ you say nothing. 
+
+
+Acr I, Sc. IV] 
+
+
+KING LEAR 
+
+
+Lear. When were you wont to be so full 
+of songs, sirrah? 
+
+Fool. 1 have used it, nuncle, ever since thou 
+madest thy daughters thy mother: for when 
+thou gavest them the rod, and put’st down 
+thine own. breeches, 190 
+[Singing] Then they for sudden joy did weep, 
+
+' And I for sorrow sung, 
+
+That such a king should play bo-peep, 
+And go the fools among. 
+Prithee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster that can 
+teach thy-fool to lie: 1 would fain learn to lie. 
+
+
+Lear. An you lie, sirrah, we ‘Il have you 
+whipped. 
+Fool. I marvel what kin thou and_ thy 
+
+
+daughters are: they ‘ll have me whipped for 
+speaking true, thou ‘It have me whipped for 
+lying; and sometimes | am whipped for hold- 
+ing my peace. | had rather be any kind o’ 
+thing than a fool: and yet I would not be 
+thee, nuncle; thou hast pared thy wit o’ both 
+sides, and left nothing 1’ the middle: here 
+comes one o’ the parings. 
+
+
+Enter GoneERIL. 
+
+
+Lear. How now, daughter! what makes 
+that frontlet on? Methinks you are too much 
+of late i’ the frown. 209 
+
+Fool. Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou 
+hadst no need to care for her frowning; now 
+thou art an O without a figure: I am better 
+than thou art now; I am a fool, thou art 
+nothing. [To Gon.] Yes, forsooth, I will 
+hold my tongue; so your face bids me, though 
+Mum, mum, 
+
+He that keeps nor crust nor crum, 
+Weary of all, shall want some. 
+[Pointing to Lear] That's a shealed peascod. 
+
+Gon. Not only, sir, this your all-licensed fool, 
+But other of your insolent retinue 221 
+Do hourly carp and quarrel; breaking forth 
+In rank and not-to-be-endured riots. Sir, 
+
+I had thought, by making this well known 
+unto you, 
+
+To have found a safe redress; but now grow 
+fearful 
+
+By what youself too late have spoke and done, 
+
+That you protect this course, and put it on 
+
+By your allowance; which if you should, the 
+fault 
+
+Would not ‘scape censure, nor the redresses 
+
+,. sleep, 
+
+Which, in the tender of a wholesome weal, 
+Might in their working do you that offence, 
+Which else were shame, that then necessity 
+Will call discreet proceeding. 
+
+Fool. For, you know, nuncle, 
+
+The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long, 
+That it had it head bit off by it young. 
+
+
+1061 
+So, out went the candle, and we were left 
+darkling. 
+Lear. Are you our daughter ? 
+Gon. Come, sir. 
+I would you would make use of that good 
+wisdom, 240 
+Whereof I know you are fraught; and put 
+away 
+
+
+These dispositions, that of late transform you 
+From what you rightly are. 
+
+Fool. May not an ass know when the cart 
+draws the horse? Whoop, Jug! I love thee. 
+
+
+Lear. Doth any here know me? This is 
+not Lear: 
+
+Doth Lear walk thus? speak thus? Where are 
+his eyes? 
+
+
+Either his notion weakens, his discernings 
+Are lethargied—Ha! waking? ‘tis not so. 
+
+
+Who is it that can tell me who I am? 250 
+Fool, Lear's shadow. 
+Lear. I would learn that; for, by the 
+
+
+marks of sovereignty, knowledge, and reason, 
+I should be false persuaded I had daughters. 
+
+Fool. Which they will make an obedient 
+father. 
+
+Lear. Your name, fair gentlewoman? 
+
+Gon. This admiration, sir, is much o’ the 
+
+savour 
+Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you 
+To understand my purposes aright: 260 
+As you are old and reverend, you should be 
+wise. 
+Here do you keep a hundred knights and 
+squires; 
+Men so disorder’d, so debosh'd and bold, 
+That this our court, infected with their manners, 
+Shows like a riotous inn: epicurism and lust 
+Make it more like a tavern or a brothel 
+Than a graced palace. The shame itself doth 
+speak 
+For instant remedy: be then desired 
+By her, that else will take the thing she begs, 
+A little to disquantity your train; 270 
+And the remainder, that shall still depend 
+To be such men as may besort your age, 
+And know themselves and you. 
+
+Lear. Darkness and devils! 
+Saddle my horses; call my train together. 
+Degenerate bastard! I'll not trouble thee: 
+Yet have I left a daughter. 
+
+Gon. You strike my people; and your 
+
+disorder'd rabble 
+
+
+Make servants of their betters. 
+Enter ALBANY. 
+
+
+Lear. Woe, that too late repents,—[ To 
+Alb.] O, sir, are you come? 
+
+Is it your will? Speak. sir. Prepare my horses. 
+
+Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend, 28) 
+
+
+1062 
+
+
+More hideous when thou show’st thee in a child 
+Than the sea-monster! 
+Alb, Pray, sir, be patient. 
+Lear, [To Gon.] Detested kite! thou liest: 
+My train are men of choice and rarest parts, 
+That all particulars of duty know, 
+And in the most exact regard support 
+The worships of their name. O most small 
+fault, 
+How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show! 
+That, hke an engine, wrench'd my frame of 
+nature 290 
+From the fix'd place; drew from my heart all 
+love, 
+And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear! 
+Beat at this gate, that let thy folly in, 
+[Striking his head. 
+
+
+And thy dear judgement out! Go, go, my 
+people. 
+Alb. My lord, I am guiltless, as I am 
+ignorant 
+Of what hath moved you. 
+Lear. It may be so, my lord. 
+
+
+Hear nature, hear; dear goddess, hear! 
+Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend 
+To make this creature fruitful! 
+Into her womb convey sterility! 
+Dry up in her the organs of increase; 
+And from her derogate body never spring 
+A babe to honour her! If she must teem, 
+Create her child of spleen; that it may live, 
+And be a thwart disnatured torment to her! 
+Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth; 
+With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks; 
+Turn all her mother’s pains and benefits 
+To laughter and contempt; that she may feel 
+How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is 310 
+To have a thankless child! Away, away! 
+[Exit. 
+Alb. Now, gods that we adore, whereof 
+comes this? 
+Gon. Never afflict yourself to know the 
+cause; 
+But let this disposition have that scope 
+That dotage gives it. 
+
+
+300 
+
+
+Re-enter LEar. 
+
+
+Lear. What, fifty of my followers at a 
+clap! 
+Within a fortnight! 
+Alb. What's the matter, sir? 
+Lear. I'll tell thee: [To Gon.] Life and 
+death! I am ashamed 
+That thou hast power to shake my manhood 
+thus ; 
+That these hot tears, which break from me 
+perforce, 320 
+Should make thee worth them. Blasts and 
+fogs upon thee! 
+
+
+KING LEAR 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc, 
+The untented woundings of a father’s curse 
+Pierce every sense about thee! Old fond eyes, 
+Beweep this cause again, I'll pluck ye out, 
+And cast you, with the waters that you lose, 
+To temper clay. Yea, is it come to this? 
+Let it be so: yet have I left a daughter, 
+Who, I am sure, is kind’ and comfortable: — 
+When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails 
+She ‘Il flay thy wolvish visage. Thou shalt find 
+That I'll resume the shape which thou dost 
+think 331 
+I have cast off for ever: thou shalt, I warrant 
+thee. 
+[Exeunt Lear, Kent, and Altendants. 
+Gon. Do you mark that, my lord? 
+Alb. I cannot be so partial, Goneril. 
+To the great love I bear you,— 
+Gon. Pray you, content. What, Oswald, ho! 
+[To the Fool] You, sir, more knave than fool, 
+after your master. 
+Fool. Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry and 
+take the fool with thee. 
+A fox, when one has caught her, 340 
+And such a daughter, 
+Should sure to the slaughter, 
+If my cap would buy a halter: 
+So the fool follows after. (Exit. 
+Gon. This man hath had good counsel: —a 
+hundred knights! 
+"Tis politic and safe to let him keep 
+At point a hundred knights: yes, that, on every 
+dream, 
+Eh bee each fancy, each complaint, dis- 
+ike, “ 
+He may enguard his dotage with their powers, 
+And hold our lives in mercy. Oswald, I say! 
+Alb. Well, you may fear too far, 
+Gon. Safer than trust too far: 
+Let me still take away the harms I fear, 
+Not fear still to be taken: I know his heart. 
+What he hath utter’'d I have writ my sister: 
+If she sustain him and his hundred knights, 
+When I have show'd the unfitness, — 
+
+
+Re-enter Oswa.p. 
+
+
+How now, Oswald! 
+What, have you writ that letter to my sister? 
+Osw,. Yes, madam. 
+Gon, Take you some company, and away 
+to horse: 
+Inform her full of my particular fear; 360 
+And thereto add such reasons of your own 
+As may compact it more. Get you gone; 
+And hasten your return, [Exit Oswald.] No, 
+no, my lord, 
+This milky gentleness and course of yours 
+Though I condemn not, yet, under pardon, 
+You are much more attask’d for want of wisdom 
+Than praised for harmful mildness. 
+
+
+Iv 
+A EAM GR Mum 
+
+
+f 
+
+
+F 
+
+
+Ws ee 
+
+
+_ Alb. How far your eyes may pierce | 
+cannot tell: 
+
+Striving to better, oft we mar what's well. 
+-~Gon. Nay, then— 370 
+_ Alb. Well, well; the event. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+_. Scene V. (Court before the same. 
+
+
+Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool. 
+
+
+Lear, Go you before to Gloucester with 
+these letters. Acquaint my daughter no further 
+with any thing you know than comes from her 
+demand out of the letter. If your diligence be 
+
+
+__ not speedy, I shail be there afore you. 
+
+
+Kent. I will not sleep, my lord, till I have 
+delivered your letter. [Exit, 
+
+Fool. If a man’s brains were in’s heels, 
+were 't not in danger of kibes? 
+
+Lear. Ay, boy. 10 
+
+Fool. Then, | prithee, be merry; thy wit 
+
+
+~ shall ne'er go slip-shod, 
+
+
+Lear. Ha, ha, ha! 
+
+. Fool, Shalt see thy other daughter will use 
+thee kindly; for though she's as like this as a 
+ahs s like an apple, yet I can tell what I can 
+tell. 
+
+Lear. Why, what canst thou tell, my boy? 
+
+Fool. She will taste as like this as a crab 
+does to a crab, Thou canst tell why one’s 
+nose stands i’ the middle ‘on 's face? 20 
+
+Lear. No. 
+
+Fool. Why, to keep one’s eyes of either 
+sides nose; that what a man cannot smell 
+out, he may spy into, 
+
+Lear, | did her wrong— 
+
+Fool. Canst tell how an oyster makes his 
+shell ? 
+
+Lear. No. 
+
+Fool. Nor I neither; but I can tell why a 
+snail has a house, 30 
+
+
+Lear. Why? 
+
+
+_ Fool. Why, to put his head in; not to give 
+
+
+it away to his daughters, and leave his horns 
+without a case. 
+
+Lear. 1 will forget my nature. So kind a 
+father! Be my horses ready ? 
+_ Fool. Thy asses are gone about ‘em. The 
+reason why the seven stars are no more than 
+seven is a pretty reason. 
+
+ear. Because they are not eight? 40 
+Fool. Yes, indeed: thou wouldst make a 
+
+
+- good. fool. 
+
+
+_ Lear, ‘To take 't again perforce, Monster 
+ingratitude! 
+
+Fool. If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I ‘ld 
+have thee beaten for being old before thy time. 
+
+Lear. How's that? 
+
+Fool. Thou,shouldst not have been old till 
+
+
+thou hadst been wise, 
+
+
+ear KING LEAR 
+I 
+
+
+1063 
+
+
+Lear, O, let me not be mad, not mad, 
+sweet heaven! 50 
+Keep me in temper: I would not be mad! 
+
+
+Enter Gentleman, 
+
+
+How now! are the horses ready ? 
+Gent. Ready, my lord, 
+Lear. Come, boy. 
+Fool. She that’s a maid now, and laughs 
+at my departure, 
+Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cut 
+shorter, [Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT If. 
+
+
+Scene I. The Earl of Gloucester's Castle. 
+Enter EnmuND, and Curan meets him. 
+
+
+Edm. Save thee, Curan, 
+
+Cur. And you, sir. I have been with your 
+father, and given him notice that the Duke of 
+Cornwall and Regan his duchess will be here 
+with him this night, 
+
+Edm. How comes that? 
+
+Cur, Nay, I know not. You have heard 
+of the news abroad; I mean the whispered 
+ones, for they are yet but ear-kissing argu- 
+ments ? 
+
+Edm. Not I: pray you, what are they? 10 
+
+Cur. Have you heard of no likely wars to- 
+ward, ‘twixt the Dukes of Cornwall and Al- 
+bany? 
+
+Edm. Not a word, 
+
+Cur, You may do, then, in time, Fare you 
+well, sir. [Exit. 
+
+Edm. The duke be here to-night? The 
+
+better! best! 
+This weaves itself perforce into my business. 
+My father hath set guard to take my brother; 
+And I have one thing, of a queasy question, 
+Which I must act: briefness and fortune, 
+work! 20 
+Brother, a word; descend, brother, I say! 
+
+
+Enter Epcar. 
+
+
+My father watches: O sir, fly this place; 
+Intelligence is given where you are hid; 
+You have now the good advantage of the 
+night: 
+Have you not spoken ‘gainst the Duke of 
+Cornwall? 
+He’s coming hither; now, i’ the night, i’ the 
+haste, 
+And Regan with him: have you nothing said 
+Upon his party ’gainst the Duke of Albany ? 
+Advise yourself, 
+Edg. I am sure on’t, not a word. 
+Edm. I hear my father coming: pardon 
+me; 
+In cunning I must draw my sword upon you: 
+
+
+1064 KING 
+
+
+Draw; seem to defend yourself; now quit 
+
+
+you well, 
+Yield: come before my father. Light, ho, 
+torches! So, fare- 
+
+
+here! 
+Fly, brother. 
+
+well. [Exit Edgar. 
+
+Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion 
+
+[Wounds his arm. 
+
+Of my more fierce endeavor; I have seen 
+drunkards 
+
+
+Do more than this in sport. 
+
+
+Torches, 
+
+
+Father, father! 
+
+
+Stop, stop! No help? 
+Enter GLoucesTER, and Servants, with 
+torches, 
+
+
+Glou. Now, Edmund, where's the villain? 
+
+
+Edm. Here stood he in the dark, his sharp 
+sword out, 40 
+Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the 
+moon 
+To stand auspicious mistress,— 
+Glou. But where is he? 
+
+
+Edm. Look, sir, I bleed, 
+Glou, Where is the villain, Edmund? 
+Edm. Fled this way, sir. When by no 
+means he could— 
+Glou. Pursue him, ho! Goafter. [Exeunt 
+some Servants.! By no means what? 
+Edm. Persuade me to the murder of your 
+lordship; 
+But I told him, the revenging gods 
+‘Gainst parricides did all their thunders bend; 
+Spoke, with how manifold and strong a bond 
+The child was bound to the father; sir, in 
+fine, 
+Seeing how loathy opposite I stood 
+To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion, 
+With his prepared sword, he charges home 
+My unprovided body, lanced mine arm: 
+But when he saw my best alarum’d spirits, 
+Bold in the quarrel’s right, roused to the 
+encounter, 
+Or whether gasted by the noise I made, 
+Full suddenly he fled. 
+Glou. Let him fly far: 
+Not in this land shall he remain uncaughr; 
+And found—dispatch. The noble duke my 
+master, 60 
+My worthy arch and patron, comes to-night: 
+By his authority I will proclaim it, 
+That he which finds him shall deserve our 
+thanks, 
+Bringing the murderous coward to the stake; 
+He that conceals him, death. 
+
+
+51 
+
+
+Edm. When I dissuaded him from his in- 
+tent, 
+And found him pight to do it, with curst 
+speech 
+
+
+I threaten’d to discover him: he replied, 
+
+
+LEAR [Acr II, Se. I 
+
+
+‘Thou unpossessing bastard! dost thou think, 
+If I would stand against thee, would the re- 
+posal 
+Of any trust, virtue, or worth in thee 71 
+Make thy words faith'd? No: what | should 
+deny,— 
+As this I would; ay, though thou didst pro- 
+duce 
+My very character,—I ‘Id turn it all 
+To thy suggestion, plot, and damned practice: 
+And thou must make a dullard of the world, 
+If they not thought the profits of my death 
+Were very pregnant and potential spurs 
+To make thee seek it.’ 
+Glou, Strong and fasten’d villain! 
+Would he deny his letter? I never got him. 
+[Tucket within. 
+Hark, the duke’s trumpets! I know not why 
+he comes. 
+All ports I ‘ll bar; the villain shall not ’scape; 
+The duke must grant me that: besides, his 
+picture 
+I will send far and near, that all the kingdom 
+May have due note of him; and of my land, 
+Loyal and natural boy, I ‘ll work the means 
+To make thee capable. 
+
+
+Enter CorNwa.t, Recan, and Attendants. 
+
+
+Corn. How now, my noble friend! since I 
+came hither, 
+
+
+Which I can call but now, I have heard - 
+
+
+strange news, 
+
+
+Reg. If it be true, all vengeance comes too 
+short < 90 
+Which can pursue the offender. How dost, 
+my lord? 
+Glou. O, madam, my old heart is crack'd, 
+is crack’d! : 
+Reg. What, did my father’s godson seek 
+your life> 
+
+
+He whom my father named? your Edgar? 
+at O, lady, lady, shame would have it 
+id! 
+Reg. Was he not companion with the riot- 
+ous knights 
+That tend upon my father? 
+Glou. I know not, madam: 
+too bad, 
+Edm. Yes, madam, he was of that consort. 
+Reg. No marvel, then, though he were ill 
+affected: 100 — 
+"Tis they have put him on the old man’s death, 
+To have the expense and waste of his rev- 
+enues. 
+I have this present evening from my sister 
+Been well inform’d of them; and with such 
+cautions, 
+That if they come to sojourn at my house, 
+I'll not be there. 
+
+
+‘tis too bad, 
+
+
+Act II, Se. II] KING 
+
+
+LEAR 1065 
+
+
+Corn. Nor I, I assure thee, Regan. 
+Edmund, I hear that you have shown your 
+
+
+father 
+A child-like office, 
+Edm. "Twas my duty, sir. 
+
+
+Glou, He did bewray his practice; and re- 
+ceived 
+This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him. 
+Corn. Is he pursued? 
+
+Glou. Ay, my good lord. 111 
+Corn. If he be taken, he shall never more 
+Be fear’d of doing harm: make your own 
+
+purpose, 
+How in my strength you please. 
+Edmund, 
+Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant 
+So much commend itself, you shall be ours: 
+Natures of such deep trust we shall much 
+need; 
+You we first seize on. 
+Edm. I shall serve you, sir, 
+Truly, however else. 
+Glou, For him I thank your grace. 
+Corn. You know not why we came to visit 
+you,— 120 
+Reg. Thus out of season, threading dark- 
+eyed night: 
+Occasions, noble Gloucester, of some poise, 
+Wherein we must have use of your advice: 
+Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister, 
+OF differcaces, which I least thought it fit 
+To answer from our home; the several mes- 
+'sengers 
+From hence attend dispatch. Our good old 
+friend, 
+Lay comforts to your bosom; and bestow 
+Your needful counsel to our business, 
+Which craves the instant use. 
+
+
+For you, 
+
+
+Glou. I serve you, madam: 130 
+Your graces are right welcome. [Exeunt. 
+Scene JI. Before Gloucester's castle. 
+
+
+Enter KENT and Oswatp, severally. 
+
+
+Osw. Good dawning to thee, friend: art of 
+this house ? 
+
+
+Kent. Ay, 
+
+Osw. Where may we set our horses? 
+Kent, I’ the mire. 
+
+Osw. Prithee, if thou lovest me, tell me. 
+Kent. I love thee not, 
+
+Osw. Why, then, I care not for thee, 
+Ként. 
+
+
+If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold, I 
+would make thee care for me. 10 
+Osw. Why dost thou use me thus? I 
+know thee not. 
+Kent. Fellow, I know thee. 
+Osw. What dost thou know me for? 
+Kent. A knave; a rascal; an eater of 
+broken meats; a base, proud, shallow, beg- 
+
+
+garly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy, 
+worsted-stocking knave; a lily-livered, action- 
+taking knave, a whoreson, glass-gazing, super- 
+serviceable, finical rogue; one-trunk- inheriting 
+slave; one that wouldst be a bawd, in way of 
+good service, and art nothing but the composi- 
+tion of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar, and 
+the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one 
+whom I will beat into clamorous whining, if 
+thou deniest the least syllable of thy addition. 
+
+Osw. Why, what a monstrous fellow art 
+thou, thus to rail on one that is neither known 
+of thee nor knows thee! 29 
+
+Kent. What a brazen-faced varlet art thou, 
+to deny thou knowest me! Is it two days ago 
+since I tripped up thy heels, and beat thee 
+before the king? Draw, you rogue: for, 
+though it be night, yet the moon shines; I ‘Il 
+make a sop o’ the moonshine of you: draw, 
+you whoreson cullionly barber-monger, draw. 
+
+[Drawing his sword. 
+
+Osw, Away! I have nothing to do with 
+thee, 
+
+Kent. Draw, you rascal: you come with 
+letters against the king; and take vanity the 
+puppet’s part against the royalty of her father: 
+raw, you rogue, or I'll so carbonado your 
+shanks: draw, you rascal; come your ways. 
+
+Osw. Help, ho! murder! help! 
+
+Kent. Strike, you slave; stand, rogue, 
+stand; you neat slave, strike. [Beating him. 
+
+Osw Help, ho! murder! murder! 
+
+
+Enter Epmunp, with his rapier drawn, Corn- 
+WALL, REGAN, GLOUCESTER, and Servants. 
+
+
+Edm. How now! What's the matter? 
+Kent. With you, goodman boy, and you 
+please: come, I'll flesh ye: come on, young 
+
+
+master, 
+Glou. Weapons! arms! What's the mat- 
+ter here? 5] 
+
+
+Corn. Keep peace, upon your lives; 
+
+He dies that strikes again. What is the 
+matter > 
+
+Reg. The messengers from our sister and 
+the king, 
+
+Corn. What is your difference? speak. 
+
+Osw. I am scarce in breath, my lord. 
+
+Kent. No marvel, you have so bestirred 
+your valour. You cowardly rascal, nature 
+disclaims in thee: a tailor made thee. 60 
+
+Corn. Thou art a strange fellow: a tailor 
+make a man? 
+
+Kent. Ay, a tailor, sir: a stone-cutter or a 
+painter could not have made him so ill, though 
+he had been but two hours at the trade. 
+
+Corn. Speak yet, how grew your quarrel? 
+
+Osw. This ancient rufhian, sir, whose life I 
+
+j have spared at suit of his gray beard,— 
+
+
+1066 
+
+
+Kent. Thou whoreson zed! thou unneces- 
+sary letter! My lord, if you will give me 
+leave, I will tread this unbolted villain into 
+mortar, and daub the walls of a jakes with 
+him. Spare my gray beard, you wagtail? 
+
+Corn. Peace, sirrah! 
+
+You beastly knave, know you no reverence? 
+Kent. Yes, sir; but anger hath a privilege. 
+Corn.- Why art thou angry? 
+
+Keni, That such a slave as this should 
+wear a sword, 
+Who wears no honesty. Such smelling rogues 
+
+as these, 
+
+Like rats, oft bite the holy cords atwain 80 
+
+Which are too intrinse t’ unloose; smooth 
+
+every passion 
+
+That in the natures of their lords rebel; 
+
+Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods; 
+
+Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks 
+
+With every gale and vary of their masters, 
+
+Knowing nought, like dogs, but following, 
+
+A plague upon your epileptic visage! 
+
+Smile you my speeches, as | were a fool? 
+
+Goose, if I had you upon Sarum plain, 
+
+I ‘Id drive ye cackling home to Camelot. 
+Corn. What, art thou mad, old fellow? 
+Glou. How fell you out? say that. 
+Ken. No contraries hold more antipathy 
+
+Than I and such a knave, 
+
+Corn. Why dost thou call him a knave? 
+
+What's his offence? 
+
+Kent. His countenance likes me not. 
+
+Corn. No more, perchance, does mine, nor 
+
+his, nor hers. 
+
+Kent. Sir, ‘tis my occupation to be plain: 
+I have seen better faces in my time 
+Than stands on any shoulder that I see 100 
+Before me at this instant. 
+
+Corn. This is some fellow, 
+Who, having been praised for bluntness, doth 
+
+affect 
+
+A saucy roughness, and constrains the garb 
+
+Quite from his nature: he cannot flatter, he, 
+
+An honest mind and plain, he must speak 
+
+truth! 
+
+An they will take it, so; if not, he's plain: 
+
+These kind of knaves I know, which in this 
+
+plainness 
+
+Harbour more craft and more corrupter ends 
+
+‘han twenty silly ducking observants 
+
+That stretch their duties nicely. 110 
+Kent. Sir, in good sooth, in sincere verity, 
+
+Under the allowance of your great aspect, 
+
+Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant 
+
+fire 
+
+On flickering Phcebus’ front,— 
+
+Corn. What mean’st by this? 
+
+Kent. To go out of my dialect, which you 
+discommend so much. I know, sir, | am no 
+
+
+90 
+
+
+KING LEAR 
+
+
+Fs re. 
+
+
+[Acr Il, Se, I 
+
+
+flatterer: he that beguiled you in a plain ac- 
+cent was a plain knaye; which for my part I 
+will not be, though I should win your dis- 
+pleasure to entreat me to 't. 120 
+Corn. What was the offence you gave 
+him >? 
+Osw. I never gave him any: 
+It pleased the king his master very late 
+To strike at me, upon his misconstruction; 
+When he, conjunct, and flattering his dis~ 
+pleasure, 
+maepia ee behind; being down, insulted, 
+rail'd,  - 
+And put upon him such a deal of man, 
+That worthied him, got praises of the king 
+For him attempting who was self-subdued; 
+And, in the fleshment of this dread exploit, 
+Drew on me here again, 
+Kent. | None of these rogues and cowards 
+But Ajax is their fool. 
+Corn. Fetch forth the stocks! 
+You stubborn ancient knave, you reverend 
+braggart, 
+We'll teach you— 
+Kent. Sir, | am too old to learn: 
+Call not for your stocks for me: I serve the 
+king; 
+On whose employment I was sent to you: 
+You shall do small respect, to show too bold 
+malice 
+Against the grace and person of my master, 
+Stocking his messenger, 
+Corn. Fetch forth the stocks! As I have 
+life and honour, 140 
+There shall he sit till noon. 
+Reg. Till noon! till night, my lord; and 
+all night too, 
+Kent. Why, 
+father’s dog, 
+You should not use me so, 
+Reg. Sir, being his knave, I will, 
+Corn. This is a fellow of the self-same 
+colour 
+Our sister speaks of. Come, bring away the 
+stocks! [Stocks brought out. 
+Glou. Let me beseech your grace not ts 
+do so: 
+his 
+
+
+130 
+
+
+madam, if I were your 
+
+
+His fault is much, and the good king 
+master 
+Will check him for ‘t: your purposed low cor- 
+rection 149 
+Is such as basest and contemned'st wretches 
+For pilferings and most common trespasses 
+Are punish'd with: the king must take it ill, 
+That he's so slightly valued in his messenger, 
+Should have him thus restrain’d. . 
+Corn. I ‘Il answer that, 
+Reg. My sister may receive it much more 
+worse, 
+
+
+ee ee ea ee 
+
+
+ts a 
+
+
+‘Act Il, Sc. IV] 
+
+
+KING 
+
+
+LEAR - 1067 
+
+
+To have her gentleman abused, assaulted, 
+For following her affairs. Put in his legs. 
+
+
+ie - 
+
+
+Come, my good lord, away. 
+
+
+duke’s pleasure, 2 
+Whose disposition, all the world well knows, 
+
+
+for thee. 
+
+
+Keni. Pray do not, sir: 
+and travell'd hard; 
+
+
+whistle. 
+A good man’s fortune may grow out at heels: 
+_ Give you good morrow! 
+
+
+ee a 
+
+
+ee Sr 
+
+
+be ill taken. 
+hy common, saw, 
+That out of heaven’s benediction comest 
+_ To the warm sun! 
+_ Approach, thou beacon to this under globe, 
+_ That by thy comfortable beams I may 171 
+Peruse this letter! Nothing almost sees mira- 
+cles 
+_ But misery: I know ‘tis from Cordelia, 
+_ Who hath most fortunately been inform'd 
+_ Of my obscured course; and shall find time 
++From this enormous state, seeking to give 
+Losses their remedies. All weary and o’er- 
+watch'd, 
+_ Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold 
+This shameful lodging. 179 
+Fortune, good night: smile once more; turn 
+
+
+thy wheel! [Sleeps. 
+
+
+Scene III. A wood. 
+Enter Epcar. 
+
+
+Edg. I heard myself proclaim’d; 
+And by the happy hollow of a tree 
+_ Escaped the hunt. No port is free; no place, 
+_ That guard, and most unusual vigilance, 
+Does not attend my taking. Whiles I may 
+. "scape, 
+I will preserve myself: and am bethought 
+_ To take the basest and most poorest shape 
+That ever penury, in contempt of man, 
+Brought near to beast: my face I'll grime 
+with filth; 
+Blanket my loins; elf all my hair in knots;10 
+And with presented nakedness out-face 
+The winds and persecutions of the sky. 
+The country gives me proof and precedent 
+Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices, 
+Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms 
+Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary ; 
+And with this horrible object, from low farms, 
+Poor pelting villages, sheep-cotes. and mills, 
+
+
+[Kent is put in the stocks. 
+
+
+[Exeunt all but Gloucester and Kent. 
+Glou. I am sorry for thee, friend; ‘tis the 
+
+
+Will not be rubb’d nor stopp'd: I'll entreat 
+161 
+I have watched 
+
+
+Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll 
+
+
+Glou. The duke’s to blame in this; joe 
+i pExit. 
+_ Kent. Good king, that must approve the 
+
+
+Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with 
+
+
+prayers, 
+Enforce their charity, Poor Turlygod! poor 
+
+Tom! 20 
+That's something yet: Edgar I nothing am. 
+
+
+[ Exit, 
+
+
+Scene IV. Before Gloucester’s castle, Kent 
+in the stocks. 
+
+
+Enter Lear, Fool and Gentleman. 
+
+
+Lear, ‘Tis strange that they should so de- 
+part from home, 
+And not send back my messenger. 
+
+Gent. As I learn’d, 
+The night before. there was no purpose in them 
+Of this remove. 
+
+Kent. 
+
+Lear. Ha! 
+
+Makest thou this shame thy pastime? 
+
+Kent, No, my lord. 
+
+Fool. Ha, ha! he wears cruel garters, 
+Horses are tied by the heads, dogs and bears 
+by the neck, monkeys by the loins, and men 
+by the legs: when a man's over-lusty at legs, 
+then he wears wooden nether-stocks. 1 
+
+Lear. What's he that hath so much thy 
+
+place mistook 
+To set thee here? 
+
+Kent. It is both he and she; 
+Your son and daughter, 
+
+Lear. No. 
+
+Kent. Yes. 
+
+Lear. No, I say. 
+
+Kent. I say, yea, 
+
+Lear. No, no, they would not, 
+
+Kent. Yes, they have. 
+
+Lear. By Jupiter, I swear, no. 
+
+Kent. By Juno, I swear, ay. 
+
+Lear. They durst not do’t; 
+They could not, would not do ‘t; "tis worse 
+
+than murder, 
+To do upon respect such violent outrage: 
+Resolve me, with all modest haste, which way 
+Thou might’st deserve, or they impose, this 
+usage, 
+Coming from us. 
+
+Kent. My lord, when at their home 
+I did commend your highness’ letters to them, 
+Ere I was risen from the place that show'd 
+My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post, 
+Stew'd in his haste, half breathless, panting 
+
+forth 31 
+From Goneril his mistress salutations; 
+Deliver'd letters, spite of intermission, 
+
+Which presently they read: on whose contents, 
+
+They summon'd up their meiny, straight took 
+horse ; 
+
+Commanded me to follow, and attend 
+
+
+Hail to thee, noble master! 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+1068 
+
+
+KING LEAR 
+
+
+“ 
+
+
+[Act II, Sc. IV 
+
+
+The leisure of their answer; gave me cold 
+looks: 
+
+And meeting here the other messenger, 
+
+Whose welcome, I perceived, had poison’d 
+mine,— 
+
+Being the very fellow that of late 40 
+
+Display'd so saucily against your highness,— 
+
+Having more man than wit about me, drew: 
+
+He raised the house with loud and coward cries. 
+
+Your son and daughter found this trespass 
+worth 
+
+The shame which here it suffers. 
+
+Fool. Winter's not gone yet, if the wild- 
+
+geese fly that way. 
+Fathers that wear rags 
+Do not make their children blind; 
+But fathers that bear bags 
+Shall see their children kind. 
+Fortune, that arrant whore, 
+Ne’er turns the key to the poor, 
+But, for all this, thou shalt have as many 
+dolours for thy daughters as thou canst tell in 
+a year. 
+Lear. O, how this mother swells up toward 
+my heart! 
+Hysterica passio, down, thou climbing sorrow, 
+Thy element's below! Where is this daugh- 
+ter? 
+
+Kent. With the earl, sir, here within, 
+
+Lear. Follow me not; 
+Stay here. [Exit. 60 
+
+Gent. Made you no more offence but what 
+you speak of ? 
+
+Kent. None. 
+
+How chance the king comes with so small a 
+train? 
+
+Fool. An thou hadst been set i’ the stocks 
+for that question, thou hadst well deserved it. 
+
+Kent. Why, fool? 
+
+Fool. We'll set thee to school to an ant, to 
+teach thee there ’s no labouring i’ the winter. 
+All that follow their noses are led by their 
+eyes but blind men; and there's not a nose 
+among twenty but can smell him that's stink- 
+ing. Let go thy hold when a great wheel 
+runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck with 
+following it; but the great one that goes up the 
+hill, let him draw thee after. When a wise 
+man gives thee better counsel, give me mine 
+again: | would have none but knaves follow 
+it, since a fool gives it, 
+
+That which serves and seeks for gain, 
+And follows but for form, 
+
+Will pack when it begins to rain, 
+And leave thee in the storm. 
+
+But I will tarry; the fool will stay, 
+And let the wise man fly: 
+
+The knave turns fool that runs away; 
+The fool no knave, perdy. 
+
+
+Kent. Where learned you this, fool ? 
+Fool. Not i’ the stocks, fool. 
+
+
+Re-enter LEAR, with GLOUCESTER. 
+
+
+Lear. Deny to speak with me? They are 
+sick? they are weary? 
+They have travell’d all the night? Mere 
+fetches; 
+The images of revolt and flying off. 9) 
+Fetch me a better answer. 
+Glou. My dear lord, 
+You know the fiery quality of the duke; 
+How unremoveable and fix'd he is 
+In his own course. 
+Lear. Vengeance! death! 
+fusion! 
+Fiery? what 
+Gloucester, 
+I'll speak with the Duke of Cornwall and 
+his wife. 
+Glou. Well, my good lord, I have in- 
+form'd them so. 
+Lear, Inform'd them! 
+stand me, man? 
+Glou. Ay, my good lord. 
+Lear. The king would speak with Corn- 
+wall; the dear father 
+Would with his daughter speak, commands 
+her service: 
+Are they inform'd of this? My breath and 
+blood! 
+bey? the fiery duke? Tell the hot duke 
+that— 
+No, but not yet: may be he is not well: 
+Infirmity doth still neglect all office 
+Whereto our health is bound; we are not our- 
+selves 
+When nature, being cppress’d, commands the 
+mind 
+To suffer with the body: I ‘ll forbear; 110 
+And am fall’n out with my more headier will, 
+To take the indisposed and sickly fit 
+For the sound man. Death on my state! 
+
+
+plague! con- 
+
+
+quality?» Why, Gloucester, 
+
+
+Dost thou under- 
+
+
+wherefore [Looking on Kent. 
+Should he sit here? This act persuades 
+me 
+
+
+That this remotion of the duke and her 
+Is practice only. Give me my servant forth. 
+
+
+Go tell the duke and's wife I'ld speak with 
+
+
+them, 
+Now, presently: bid them come forth and hear 
+me, 
+
+Or at their chamber-door I'll beat the drum 
+Till it cry sleep to death. 120 
+Glou. I would have all well betwixt you. 
+
+[Exit. 
+Lear. O me, my heart, my rising heart! 
+but, down! 
+
+
+Fool. Cry to it, uncle, as the cockney did 
+
+
+her brother that, in pure kindness to his horse, 
+
+
+; 
+
+
+, A 
+f 
+
+i 
+
+j 
+
+h 
+
+\ 
+
+
+\ 
+\ 
+) 
+
+
+» Some other time for that, 
+
+
+Act Il, Se, IV] 
+
+
+to the eels when she put ‘em i’ the paste alive; 
+she knapped ‘em o' the coxcombs with a stick, 
+and cried ‘Down, wantons, down!’ "Twas 
+
+
+buttered his hay. 
+
+
+Enter CoRNWALL, REGAN, GLoucesTER, and 
+
+
+Servants, 
+
+
+Lear. Good morrow to you both. 
+Corn. 
+[Kent is set at liberty. 
+
+
+Reg. 1 am glad to see your highness. 130 
+Lear. Regan, I think you are; | know what 
+
+
+reason 
+
+
+I have to think so: if thou shouldst not be 
+
+
+glad, 
+I would divorce me from thy mother’s tomb, 
+Sepulchring an adultress, 
+you free? 
+Beloved Regan, 
+Thy sister ’s naught: O Regan, she hath tied 
+Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture, here: 
+[Points to his heart. 
+
+
+I can scarce speak to thee; thou ‘It not believe 
+
+
+With how depraved a quality—O Regan! 
+
+
+Reg. I pray you, sir, take patience: I have 
+140 
+
+
+hope 
+You less know how to value her desert 
+Than she to scant her duty, 
+
+Lear. Say, how is that? 
+Reg. I cannot think my sister in the least 
+Would fail her obligation: if, sir, perchance 
+She have restrain’d the riots of your followers, 
+"Tis fi such ground, and to such wholesome 
+
+~ end, 
+
+As clears her from all blame, 
+
+Lear. My curses on her! 
+
+Reg. O, sir, you are old; 
+Nature in you stands on the very verge 149 
+Of her confine: you should be ruled and led 
+By some discretion, that discerns your state 
+Better than yourself. Therefore, | pray you, 
+That to our sister you do make return; 
+
+Say you have wrong’'d her, sir, 
+
+Lear, Ask her forgiveness? 
+Do you but mark how this becomes the house: 
+‘Dear daughter, I confess that | am old; 
+
+_[Kneeling, 
+Age is unnecessary: on my knees I beg 
+That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and 
+food.’ 
+
+Reg. Good sir, no more; these are un- 
+
+sightly tricks: 
+
+eturn you to my sister. 
+
+Lear. [Rising] Never, Regan: 
+She hath abated me of half my train; 
+Look’d black upon me; struck me with her 
+
+tongue, 
+Most serpent-like, upon the very heart: 
+
+
+160 
+
+
+KING LEAR 
+oe Ge te ee 
+
+
+Hail to your grace.. 
+
+
+[To Kent] O, are 
+
+
+1069 
+
+
+All the stored vengeances of heaven fall 
+On her ingrateful top! Strike her young 
+bones, 
+You taking airs, with lameness! 
+Corn, Fie, sir, fie! 
+Lear, You nimble lightnings, dart your 
+blinding flames 
+Into her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty, 
+You fen-suck’d fogs, drawn by the powerful 
+sun, 
+To fall and blast her pride! 170 
+Reg. O the blest gods! so will you wish on 
+me, 
+When the rash mood is on, 
+Lear. No, Regan, thou shalt never have 
+my curse: 
+Thy tender-defted nature shall not give 
+Thee o'er to harshness: her eyes are fierce; 
+but thine 
+Do comfort and not burn. "Tis not in thee 
+To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train, 
+To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes, 
+And in conclusion to oppose the bolt 
+Against my coming in: thou better know’st _ 
+The offices of nature, bond of childhood, 18] 
+Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude; 
+Thy half 0” the kingdom hast thou not forgot, 
+Wherein I thee endow'd. 
+Reg, Good sir, to the purpose, 
+Lear. Who put my man i’ the stocks? 
+[Tucket within. 
+Corn. What trumpet ’s that? 
+Reg. I know't, my sister's: this approves 
+her letter, 
+That she would soon be here, 
+
+
+Enter Oswa tp. 
+
+
+Is your lady come? 
+Lear. This is a slave, whose easy-borrow'd 
+pride J 
+Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows. 
+Out, varlet, from my sight! 
+
+
+Corn, What means your grace? 
+Lear. Who stock’d my servant? Regan, 
+I have good hope 19] 
+
+
+Thou didst not know on’t. Who comes here? 
+O heavens, 
+
+
+Enter Goneri. 
+
+
+If you do love old men, if your sweet sway 
+
+Allow obedience, if yourselves are old, 
+
+Make it your cause; send down, and take my 
+part! 
+
+[To Gon.] Art not ashamed to look upon this 
+beard? 
+
+
+O Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand? 
+
+
+Gon. Why not by the hand, sir? How 
+have I offended? 
+
+
+1070 
+
+
+KING LEAR 
+
+
+K x 
+
+
+[Acr II, Se. IV 
+
+
+All's not offence that indiscretion finds 
+And dotage terms so. 
+
+
+Lear, O sides, you are too tough ; 
+Will you yet hold? How came my mani 
+the stocks > 201 
+Corn. | set him there, sir: but his own dis- 
+orders 
+Deserved much less advancement. 
+Lear. You! did you? 
+
+
+Reg. I pray you, father, being weak, seem 
+so, 
+If, till the expiration of your month, 
+You will return and sojourn with my sister, 
+Dismissing half your train, come then to me: 
+I am now from home, and out of that pro- 
+vision 
+Which shall be needful to your entertainment. 
+Lear. Return to her, and fifty men dis- 
+miss'd > 210 
+No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose 
+To wage against the enmity o’ the air; 
+To be a comrade with the wolf and owl,— 
+Necessity’s sharp pinch! Return with her? 
+Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless 
+took 
+Our youngest born, I could as well be brought 
+To knee his throne, and, squire-like, pension 
+beg 
+To keep base life afoot. Return with her? 
+Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter 
+To this detested groom. [Pointing at Oswald. 
+Gon. At your choice, sir. 
+eat I prithee, daughter, do not aay 
+I will ae trouble thee, my child; farewell: 
+We'll no more meet, no more see one another: 
+But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my 
+daughter; 
+Or rather a disease that's in my flesh, 
+Which I must needs call mine: thou art a 
+boil, 
+A plague-sore, an embossed carbuncle, 
+In my corrupted blood. But I'll’ not chide 
+thee; 
+Let shame come when it will, I do not call it: 
+I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot, 230 
+Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove: 
+Mend when thou canst; be better at thy 
+leisure: 
+I can be patient; I can stay with Regan, 
+I and my hundred knights. 
+Reg. Not altogether so: 
+I look’d not for you yet, nor am provided 
+For your fit welcome. Give ear, sir, to my 
+sister ; ; 
+For those that mingle reason with your passion 
+Must be content to think you old, and so— 
+But she knows what she does. 
+Lear. Is this well spoken? 
+
+
+Reg. I dare avouch it, sir: what, fifty fol- — 
+240 
+
+
+lowers ? 
+
+Is it not well? 
+more > 
+Yea, or so many, sith that both charge and 
+
+danger 
+Speak ’gainst so great a number? 
+one house, 
+Should many people, under two commands, 
+Hold amity > 
+
+
+What should you need of 
+
+
+How, eat 
+
+
+Gon. Why might not you, my lord receive 
+attendance 
+From those that she calls servants or from 
+mine? 
+
+
+Reg. Why not, my lord? 
+chanced to slack you, 
+We could control them. 
+me,— 
+For row I spy a danger,—I entreat you 250 
+To bring but five and twenty: to no more 
+Will I give place or notice. 
+Lear. 1 gave you all— 
+Reg. And in good time you gave it. 
+Lear. Made you my guardians, my de- 
+positaries ; 
+But kept a reservation to be follow’d 
+With such a number. What, must I come to 
+you 
+With five ana twenty, Regan? said you so? 
+Reg. And speak ’t again, my lord; 
+more with me. 
+Lear. 
+well-favour'd, 
+When others are more wicked; not being the 
+worst 260 
+Stands in some rank of praise. 
+I'll go with thee: 
+Thy fifty yet doth double five-and-twenty, 
+And thou art twice her love. 
+Gon. 
+What need you five and twenty, ten, or five, 
+To follow in a house where twice so iit 
+Have a command to tend you? 
+Reg. What need ee 
+Lear. O, reason not the need: our basest 
+beggars 
+Are in the poorest things superfluous: 
+
+
+If then they 
+If you will come is 
+
+
+Allow not nature more than nature needs, 
+Man's life's as cheap as beast’s: thou art 4, 
+lady; 276 
+
+
+If only to go warm were gorgeous, 
+
+Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous 
+wear'st, 
+
+Which scarcely keeps thee warm. 
+true need,— 
+
+You heavens, give me that patience, patience 
+I need! } 
+
+You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, 
+
+As full of grief as age; wretched in both! 
+
+
+But, for 
+
+
+"Tis hard; almost impossible. — 
+
+
+no 
+
+
+Those wicked creatures yet do look — 
+[To Gon] - 
+
+
+Hear me, my lord? 
+
+
+; 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+. 
+q 
+
+
+If it be you that stirs these daughters’ hearts 
+Against their father, fool me not so much 
+To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger, 
+And let not women’s weapons, water-drops, 
+Stain my man’s cheeks! No, you unnatural 
+hags, 281 
+
+_ I will have such revenges on you both, 
+
+_ That all the world shall—I will do such 
+things— 
+
+What they are, yet I know not; but they 
+shall be 
+
+The terrors of the earth. You think I'll 
+weep; 
+
+No, I ll not weep: 
+
+_ Thave full cause.of weeping; but this heart 
+_ Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, 
+Or ere I'll weep. O fool, I shall go mad! 
+
+[Exeunt Lear, Gloucester, Kent, and Fool. 
+Storm and tempest. 
+~ Corn. Let us withdraw; ‘twill be a storm. 
+Reg. This house is little: the old man and 
+his people 291 
+
+- Cannot be well bestow’'d. 
+
+Gon. "Tis his own blame; hath put him- 
+j self from rest, 
+
+_ And must needs taste his folly, 
+_ -Reg. For this particular, I'll receive him 
+
+
+} gladly, 
+- But not one follower. 
+Gon So am I purposed. 
+
+
+, Where is my lord of Gloucester ? 
+Corn. Follow'd the old man forth: he is 
+a return'd. 
+
+
+Re-enter GLouceEsTER. 
+
+
+Glou. The king is in high rage. 
+Corn. Whither is he going? 
+~Glou. He calls to horse; but will I know 
+; not whither. 300 
+Corn. "Tis best to give him way; he leads 
+
+
+himself. 
+
+_ Gon, My lord, entreat him by no means to 
+stay, 
+
+- Glou. Alack, the night comes on, and th 
+bleak winds : 
+
+
+_ Do sorely ruffle; for many miles about 
+_ There's scarce a bush. 
+
+Reg. O, sir, to wilful men, 
+The injuries that they themselves procure 
+Must be their schoolmasters. Shut up your 
+j deors: 
+
+He is attended with a desperate train; 
+
+‘And what they may incense him to, being apt 
+
+To have his ear abused, wisdom bids fear. 310 
+Corn. Shut up your doors, my lord; ‘tis a 
+
+
+wild night: 
+. My Regan counsels well: come out o’ the 
+storm, [Exeunt. 
+
+
+baci 
+
+
+KING LEAR 
+
+
+1071 
+
+
+ACT? TH. 
+
+
+Scene I. A heath, 
+
+
+Storm still, Enter Kent and) a Gentleman, 
+meeting. 
+Kent. Who's there, besides foul weather? 
+Gent. One minded like the weather, most 
+unquietly. 
+Kent. I know you. Where's the king? 
+Gent. Contending with the fretful ele- 
+ment; 
+Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea, 
+Or swell the curled waters "bove the main, 
+That things might change or cease; tears his 
+white hair, 
+Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage, 
+Catch in their fury, and make nothing of; 
+Strives in his little world of man to out-scorn 
+The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain. 11 
+This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would 
+couch, 
+The lion and the belly-pinched wolf 
+Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs, 
+And bids what will take all. 
+
+
+Kent. But who is with him? 
+Gent. None but the fool; who labours to 
+out-jest 
+His heart-struck injuries. 
+Kent, Sir, I do know you; 
+
+
+And dare, upon the warrant of my note, 
+
+Commend a dear thing to you. There is 
+division, 
+
+Although as yet the face of it be cover’d 20 
+
+With mutual cunning, ‘twixt Albany and 
+Cornwall; 
+
+Who have—as who have not, that their great 
+stars 
+
+Throned and set high?—-servants, who seem 
+no less, 
+
+Which are to France the spies and specula- 
+tions 
+
+Intelligent to our state; what hath been seen, 
+
+Either in snuffs and packings of the dukes, 
+
+Or the hard rein which both of them have ~ 
+borne 
+
+Against the old kind king; or something 
+deeper, 
+
+Whereof perchance these are but furnishings; 
+
+But, true it is, from France there comes a 
+power 30 
+
+Into this scatter’d kingdom; who already, 
+
+Wise in our negligence, have secret feet 
+
+In some of our best ports, and are at point 
+
+To show their open banner. Now to you: 
+
+If on my credit you dare build so far 
+
+To make your speed to Dover, you shall find 
+
+Some that will thank you, making just report 
+
+Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow 
+
+The king hath cause to plain. 
+
+
+1072 KING 
+
+
+I am a gentleman of blood and breeding; 40 
+And, from some knowledge and assurance, 
+offer 
+
+This office to you. 
+
+Gent. I will talk further with you, 
+
+Kent, No, do not. 
+For confirmation that I am much more 
+Than my out-wall, open this purse and take 
+
+
+What it contains. If you shall see Cor- 
+delia,— 
+As fear not but you shall,—show her this 
+
+
+ring; 
+And rhe will tell you who your fellow is 
+
+
+That yet you do not know. Fie on this 
+storm! 
+I will go seek the king, 50 
+
+
+Gent. Give me your hand: have you no 
+more to say? 
+Kent. Few words, but, to effect, more than 
+all yet; 
+That, when we have found the king,—in 
+which, your pain 
+That way, I ‘Il this,—he that first lights on him 
+Holla the other, [Exeunt severally. 
+
+
+Scene II. Another part of the heath. Storm 
+
+
+still, 
+Enter Lear and Fool. 
+
+
+Lear. Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! 
+
+rage! blow! 
+
+You cataracts and hurricanes, spout 
+
+Till you have drench’d our steeples, drown'd 
+the cocks! 
+
+You sulphurous and thought-executing fires, 
+
+Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts, 
+
+Singe my white head! - And thou, all-shaking 
+thunder, 
+
+Smite flat the thick rotundity o’ the world! 
+
+Crack nature’s moulds, all germens spill at 
+once, 
+
+That make ingrateful man! 
+
+Fool. O nuncle, court holy-water in a dry 
+house is better than this rain-water out o’ door. 
+Good nuncle, in, and ask thy daughters’ bless- 
+ing: here's a night pities neither wise man 
+nor fool. 
+
+
+Lear. Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! 
+spout, rain! 
+Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daugh- 
+ters: 
+
+
+I tax not you, you elements with unkindness; 
+I never gave you kingdom, call’d you chil- 
+ren, 
+
+You owe me no subscription: then let fall 
+
+Your horrible pleasure; here I stand, your 
+slave, 
+
+A poor, infirm, weak, and despised old man: 
+
+But yet I call you servile ministers, 2t 
+
+
+LEAR 
+
+
+[Acr III, Se, II 
+
+
+That have with two pernicious daughters 
+join’d 
+Your high engender’d battles ’gainst a head 
+So old and white as this. O! O! ‘tis foul! 
+Fool. He that has a house to put ’s head in 
+has a good head-piece. 
+The cod-piece that will house 
+Before the head has any, 
+The head and he shall louse; 
+So beggars marry many. 
+The man that makes his toe 
+What he his heart should make 
+Shall of a corn cry woe, 
+And tura his sleep to wake. 
+For there was never yet fair woman but she 
+made mouths in a glass, 
+Lear. No, I will be the pattern of all>: 
+patience; 
+I will say nothing. 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+/ 
+
+
+Enter KENT. 
+Kent. Who’s there? 
+
+
+Fool. Marry, here’s grace anda cod-piece; 
+that’s a wise man and a fool, 4) 
+Kent. Alas, sir, are you here? things that 
+love night 
+Love not such nights as these; the wrathful 
+skies 
+Gallow the very wanderers of the dark, 
+And make them keep their caves: since I was 
+man, 
+Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid 
+thunder, 
+Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never 
+Remember to have heard: man’s nature cannot 
+carry 
+The affliction nor the fear. 
+
+Lear. Let the great gods, 
+That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads, 
+Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou 
+
+wretch, 51 
+That hast within thee undivulged crimes, 
+Unwhipp’d of justice: hide thee, thou bloody 
+
+hand; 
+Thou perjured, and thou simular man of virtue 
+That art incestuous: caitiff, to pieces shake, 
+That under covert and convenient seeming 
+Hast practised on man’s life: close pent-up 
+guilts, 
+
+Rive your concealing continents, and cry 
+These dreadful summoners grace. fi am a 
+man Be ES 
+
+More sinn’d against than sinning, q 
+
+Kent. _. Alack, bare-headed! 
+Gracious my lord, tard by here is a hovel; 
+Some friendship will it lend you ‘gainst the 
+
+tempest: 
+Repose thou there; 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+while I to this hard 
+
+
+house— \ 
+
+
+ae 
+
+
+= 
+
+
+———e 
+
+
+Act Ill, Sc. IV] KING 
+
+
+LEAR 1073 
+
+
+More harder than the stones whereof ‘tis 
+raised; 
+Which even but now, demanding after you, 
+Denied me to come in—return, and force 
+Their scanted courtesy. 
+Lear. My wits begin to turn. 
+Come on, my boy: how dost, my boy? art 
+
+
+cold? 
+
+I am cold myself. Where is this straw, my 
+fellow 2 
+
+The art of our necessities is strange, 70 
+
+That can make vile things precious. Come, 
+your hovel. 
+
+Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my 
+heart j 
+
+
+That's sorry yet for thee. 
+Fool. [Singing] He that has and a little 
+tiny wit,— : 
+With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, — 
+\ Must make content with his fortunes fit, 
+For the rain it raineth every day. 
+Lear. True, my good boy. Come, bring 
+us to this hovel, [Exeunt Lear and Kent. 
+Fool. This is a brave night to cool a 
+courtezan, 
+I ‘Il speak a prophecy ere I go: 
+When priests are more in word than matter; 
+When brewers mar their malt with water; 
+When nobles are their tailors’ tutors; 
+No heretics burn’d, but wenches’ suitors; 
+When every case in law is right; 
+No squire in-debt, nor no poor knight; 
+When slanders do not live in tongues; 
+Nor cutpurses come not to throngs; 
+When usurers tell their gold i’ the field; 
+And bawds and whores do churches build; 
+Then shall the realm of Albion 91 
+Come to great confusion: 
+Then comes the time, who lives to see 't, 
+That going shall be used with feet. 
+This prophecy Merlin shall make; for I live 
+before his time. [Exit. 
+
+
+Scene III. Gloucester’s castle. 
+Enter GLoucesTER and Epmunp, 
+Glou. Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this 
+
+
+unnatural dealing. When I desired their leave 
+that I might pity him, they took from me the 
+use of mine own house; charged me, on pain 
+of their perpetual displeasure, neither to speak 
+of him, entreat for him, nor any way sustain 
+him. 
+
+Edm. Most savage and unnatural! 
+
+Glou. Go to; say you nothing. There's a 
+division betwixt the dukes; and’a worse matter 
+than that: I have received a letter this night; 
+‘tis dangerous to be spoken; I have locked the 
+letter in my closet: these injuries the king now 
+bears will be revenged home; there's part of a 
+
+
+power already footed: we must incline to the 
+king. I will seek him, and privily relieve him: 
+go you and maintain talk with the duke, that 
+my charity be not of him perceived: if he ask 
+for me, | am ill, and gone to bed. Though | 
+die for it, as no less is threatened me, the king 
+my old master must be relieved. There is 
+some strange thing toward, Edmund; pray 
+you, be careful. [Exit. 
+Edm. This courtesy, forbid thee, shall the 
+duke 
+Instantly know; and of that letter too: 
+This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me 
+That which my father loses; no less than all: 
+“The younger rises when the old doth fall. 
+[Exit. 
+
+
+ScENnE IV. The heath. Before a hovel. 
+Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool. 
+
+
+Kent. Here is the place, my lord; good my 
+lord, enter: 
+The tyranny of the open night's too rough 
+For nature to endure. [Siorm still. 
+Lear. Let me alone. 
+Kent. Good my lord, enter here. 
+Lear. Wilt break my heart? 
+Kent. I had rather break mine own. Good 
+my lord, enter. 
+Lear. Thou think’st 
+contentious storm 
+Invades us to the skin: so ‘tis to thee; 
+But where the greater malady is fix'd, 
+The lesser is scarce felt. Thou 'Idst shun a 
+bear; 
+But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea, 10 
+Thou ‘Idst meet the bear i’ the mouth. When 
+the mind’s free, 
+The body 's delicate: the tempest in my mind 
+Doth from my senses take all feeling else 
+Save what beats there. Filial ingratitude! 
+Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand 
+For lifting food tot? But I will punish home: 
+No, I will weep no more. In such a night 
+To shut me out! Pour on; I will endure. 
+In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril! 
+Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave 
+all,— 
+O, that way madness lies; let me shun that; 
+No more of that. 
+Kent. Good my lord, enter here. 
+Lear. Prithee, go in thyself; seek thine 
+* own ease: 
+This tempest will not give me leave to ponder 
+On things would hurt me more. But I 'Il go in. 
+[To the Fool] In, boy; go first. You house- 
+less poverty,— 
+Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'l! sleep. 
+[Fool goes in. 
+Poor naked wretches, wheresoe’er you are. 
+
+
+‘tis much that this 
+
+
+1074 
+
+
+KING LEAR 
+
+
+ah oe 
+
+
+: rf 
+We 
+i 
+
+
+. 
+
+
+[Acr III, Se. I 
+
+
+That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, 
+How shall your houseless heads and unfed 
+
+
+sides, 30 
+Your loop’d and window’d raggedness, defend 
+you 
+
+
+From seasons such as these? O, I have ta’en 
+Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp; 
+Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, 
+That thou mayst shake the superflux to them, 
+And show the heavens more just. 
+
+Edg. [Within] Fathom and half, fathom 
+and half! Poor Tom! 
+
+[The Fool runs out from the hovel. 
+
+Fool. Come not in here, nuncle, here’s a 
+spirit. Help me, help me! 40 
+
+Kent. Give me thy hand. Who's there? 
+
+Fool. A spirit, a spirit: he says his name 's 
+poor Tom. 
+
+Kent. What art thou that dost grumble 
+there 1’ the straw? Come forth. 
+
+Enter Epcar disguised as a’ madman. 
+Edg. Away! the foul fiend follows me! 
+Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold 
+
+wind, 
+Hum! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee. 
+
+
+Lear. Hast thou given all to thy two 
+daughters ? 
+And art thou come to this? 50 
+
+
+Edg. Who gives any thing to poor Tom? 
+whom the foul fiend hath led through fire and 
+through flame, through ford and whirlipool, 
+o'er bog and quagmire; that hath laid knives 
+under his pillow, and halters in his pew; set 
+ratsbane by his porridge; made him proud of 
+heart, to ride on a bay trotting-horse over four- 
+inched bridges, to course his own shadow for a 
+traitor. Bless thy five wits! Tom's a-cold— 
+O, do de, do de, do de. Bless thee from whirl- 
+winds, star-blasting, and taking! Do poor Tom 
+some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes: there 
+could I have him now,—and there,—and there 
+again, and there. [Siorm siill, 
+
+Lear. What, have his daughters brought 
+
+him to this pass? 
+Couldst thou save nothing? Didst thou give 
+them all> 
+
+Fool. Nay, he reserved a blanket, else we 
+had been all shamed. 
+
+Lear. Now, all the plagues that in the pen- 
+
+dulous air 
+Hang fated o'er men’s faults light on thy 
+daughters! 70 
+Kent. He hath no daughters, sir. 
+Lear. Death, traitor! nothing could have 
+subdued nature 
+To such a lowness but his unkind daughters. 
+Is it the fashion, that discarded fathers 
+Should have thus little mercy on their flesh? 
+Judicious punishment! 'twas this flesh begot 
+
+
+Those pelican daughters. 
+
+Edg, Pillicock sat on Pillicock-hill: 
+Halloo, halloo, loo, loo! ; 
+
+Fool. This cold night will turn us all te 
+fools and madmen. 
+
+Edg. Take heed o’ the foul fiend: obey thy 
+parents; keep thy word justly; swear not; _ 
+commit not with man’s sworn spouse; set not 
+thy sweet heart on proud array, Tom’s 
+a-cold. é 
+
+Lear. What hast thou been? 
+
+Edg. A serving-man, proud in heart and — 
+mind; that curled my hair; wore gloves in my 
+cap; served the lust of my mistress’ heart, and 
+did the act of darkness with her; swore as 
+many oaths as I spake words, and broke them 
+in the sweet face of heaven: one that slept in 
+the contriving of lust, and waked to ‘do it: 
+wine loved I deeply, dice dearly; and in 
+woman out-paramoured the Turk: false of 
+heart, light of ear, bloody of hand; hog in 
+sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in 
+madness, lion in prey. Let not the creaking of 
+shoes nor the rustling of silks betray thy poor 
+heart to woman: keep thy foot out of brothels, 
+thy hand out of plackets, thy pen from lenders’ 
+books, and defy the foul fiend. 101 
+Still through the hawthorn blows the cold 
+
+wind: 
+Says suum, mun, ha, no, nonny. 
+Dolphin my boy, my boy, sessa! let him trot by. 
+[Storm still. 
+
+Lear. Why, thou wert better in thy grave 
+than to answer with thy uncovered body this 
+extremity of the skies. Is man no more than 
+this? Consider him well. Thou owest the 
+worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no 
+wool, the cat no perfume. Ha! here’s three 
+on’s are sophisticated! Thou art the’ thing 
+itself: unaccommodated man is no more but 
+such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art. — 
+Off, off, you lendings! come, unbutton here. 
+
+[Tearing off his clothes. 
+
+Fool. Prithee, nuncle, be contented; ‘tis a 
+naughty night to swim in. Now a little fire in — 
+a wild field were like an old lecher’s heart; a 
+small spark, all the rest on ’s body cold. Look, 
+here comes a walking fire. ‘ Lee ae. 
+
+
+Enter GLOUCESTER, with c torch. 
+
+
+Edg. This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet: 
+he begins at curfew, and walks till the first — 
+cock; he gives the web and the pin, squints the 
+eye, and makes the hare-lip; mildews the white 
+wheat, and hurts the poor creature of earth. 
+
+S. Withold footed thrice the old; 
+
+He met the night-mare, and her nine-fold: 
+
+Bid her alight, 
+And her troth plight, 
+
+
+si ea Il, Sc. WAY 
+
+
+fia es 
+
+
+KING LEAR 
+
+
+1075 
+
+
+And, aroint thee, witch, aroint thee! 
+
+Kent. How fares your grace? 
+
+Lear. What's he? 
+
+- Kent. “Who's there? “What is ‘t you seek ? 
+~ Glou. What are you there? Your names? 
+' Edg. Poor Tom; that eats the swimming 
+frog, the toad, the tadpole, the wall-newt and 
+the water; that in the fury of his heart, when 
+the foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for sallets; 
+swallows the old rat. and ditch-dog; drinks 
+the green mantle of the standing pool; who .is 
+whipped from tithing to tithing, and_ stock- 
+punished, and imprisoned; who hath had three 
+suits to his back, six shirts to his body, horse 
+to ride, and weapon to wear; 
+
+But mice and rats, and such small deer, 
+
+Have been Tom’s food for seven long year. 
+Beware my follower. Peace, Smulkin; peace, 
+
+thou fiend! 
+
+~Glou. What, hath your grace no better 
+
+company ? 
+
+Edg. The prince of darkness is a gentleman: 
+Modo he’s’ call’d, and Mahu. 
+~ Glou. Our flesh and blood is grown so vile, 
+
+my lord, 150 
+That it doth hate what gets it. 
+
+Edg. Poor Tom's a-cold. 
+
+Glou. Go in with me: my duty cannot suffer 
+To obey in all your daughters’ hard commands: 
+Though their injunction be to bar my doors, 
+And let this tyrannous night take hold upon 
+
+you, 
+Yet have I ventured to come seek you out, 
+And bring you where both fire and food is 
+ready. 
+
+Lear. First let me talk with this philosopher. 
+What is the cause of thunder? 
+
+Kent. Good my lord, take his offer; go 
+
+into the house. 
+
+Lear. 1'l- talk a word with this same 
+
+learned Theban. 
+What is your study? 
+
+_ Edg. How to prevent the fiend, and to kill 
+
+_ vermin. 
+
+Lear. Let me ask you one word in private. 
+
+Kent. Importune him once more to go, 
+
+my lord; : 
+His wits begin to unsettle. 
+
+Glou. Canst thou blame him? [Storm siill. 
+
+His daughters seek his death; ah, that good 
+Kent! 
+He said it would be thus, poor banish’d 
+
+
+man! 
+Thou say’st the king grows mad; I'll tell thee, 
+friend, 170 
+
+
+J am almost mad myself: I had a son, 
+
+Now outlaw’d from my blood; he sought my life, 
+But lately, very late: I loved him, friend: 
+
+No father his son dearer: truth to tell thee, 
+
+
+The grief hath crazed my wits. What a 
+night ’s this! 
+I do beseech your grace,— 
+Lear. O, cry you mercy, sir, 
+Noble philosopher, your company. 
+Edg. Tom’s a-cold. 
+Glou. In, fellow, there, into the hovel: 
+keep warm. 
+Lear. Come, let’s in all. 
+Kent. This way, my lord. 
+Lear. With him; 
+I will keep still with my philosopher. 18] 
+Kent. Good my lord, soothe him; let him 
+take the fellow. 
+Glou. Take him you on, 
+Kent. Sirrah, come on; go along with us. 
+Lear. Come, good Athenian. 
+Glou. No words, no words: hush. 
+Edg. Child Rowland to the dark tower came, 
+His word was still,—Fie, foh, and fum, 
+I smell the blood of a British man. 
+> [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene V. Gloucester’s casile. 
+Enter’ CORNWALL and EDMUND. 
+
+
+Corn. I will have my revenge ere I depart 
+his house. 
+
+Edm. How, my lord, I may be censured, 
+that nature thus gives way to loyalty, some- 
+thing fears me to think of, 
+
+Corn. I now perceive, it was not altogether 
+your brother’s evil disposition made him seek 
+his death; but a provoking merit set a-work by 
+a reproveable badness in himself. y) 
+
+Edm. How malicious is my fortune that | 
+must repent to be just! This is the letter he 
+spoke of, which approves him an intelligent 
+party to the advantages of France. O heavens! 
+that this treason were not, or not I the detector! 
+
+Corn. Go with me to the duchess. 
+
+Edm. If the matter of this paper be certain, 
+you have mighty business in hand. 
+
+Corn. True or false, it hath made thee earl 
+of Gloucester. Seek out where thy father is, 
+that he may be ready for our apprehension. 20 
+
+Edm. {Aside} If I find him comforting the 
+king, it will stuff his suspicion more fully—I 
+will persevere in my course of loyalty, though 
+the conflict be sore between that and my 
+blood. 
+
+Corn. I will lay trust upon thee; and thou 
+shalt find a dearer father in my love. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+A chamber in a farmhouse 
+adjoining the castle. 
+
+
+Enter GioucesTeR, Lear, Kent, Fool, and 
+Epcar. 
+
+
+Glou. Here is better than the open air; 
+
+
+Scene VI. 
+
+
+1076 KING 
+
+
+take it thankfully. I will piece out the comfort 
+with what addition I can: I will not be long 
+from you. 
+
+Kent. All the power of his wits have given 
+way to his impatience: the gods reward your 
+kindness! [Exit Gloucester. 
+
+Edg. Frateretto calls me; and tells me 
+Nero is an angler in the lake of darkness. 
+Pray, innocent, and beware the foul fiend. 
+
+Fool. Prithee, nuncle, tell me whether a 
+madman be a gentleman or a yeoman? 1 
+
+Lear. A king, a king! 
+
+Fool. No, he's a yeoman that has a gentle- 
+man to his son; for he’s a mad yeoman that 
+sees his son a gentleman before him. 
+
+Lear. To have a thousand with red burn- 
+
+ing spits 
+Come hissing in upon ‘em,— 
+
+Edg. The foul fiend bites my back. 
+
+Fool. He's mad that trusts in the tameness 
+of a wolf, a horse's health, a boy’s love, or a 
+whore’s oath. 
+
+Lear. It shall be done; | will arraign them 
+
+straight. 
+
+[To Edgar] Come, sit thou here, most learned 
+justicer ; 
+
+[To the Fool] Thou, sapient sir, sit here. 
+Now, you she foxes! 
+
+Edg. Look, where he stands and glares! 
+Wantest thou eyes at trial, madam? 
+
+Come o’er the bourn, Bessy, to me,— 
+
+Fool. Her boat hath a leak, 
+
+And she must not speak 29 
+Why she dares not come over to thee. 
+
+Edg. The foul fiend haunts poor Tom in 
+the voice of a nightingale. Hopdance cries in 
+Tom's belly for two white herring. Croak 
+not, black angel; I have no food for thee. 
+
+Kent. How do you, sir? Stand you not so 
+
+amazed: 
+Will you lie down and rest upon the cushions? 
+
+Lear. I'll see their trial first. Bring in the 
+
+evidence. 
+
+
+[To Edgar] Thou robed man of justice, take 
+
+
+thy place; 
+[To the Fool] And thou, his yoke-fellow of 
+
+
+equity, 
+Bench by his side: 
+commission, 
+Sit you too. 
+Edg. Let us deal justly. 
+Sleepest or wakest thou, jolly shepherd ? 
+Thy sheep be in the corn; 
+And for one blast of thy minikin mouth, 
+Thy sheep shall take no harm. 
+Pur! the cat is gray. 
+Lear. Arraign her first; ‘tis Goneril, I here 
+
+
+[To Kent] you are o’ the 
+40 
+
+
+LEAR [Act IH, Sc. VI 
+
+
+Fool. Come hither, mistress. Is your name 
+Goneril ? 
+Lear. She cannot deny it. 
+Fool. Cry you mercy, I took you for a 
+joint-stool. 
+Lear. And here's another, whose warp’d 
+looks proclaim 
+
+
+What store her heart is made on. Stop her 
+there! 
+
+Arms, arms, sword, fire! Corruption in the 
+place! 
+
+
+False justicer, why hast thou let her ‘scape? 
+Edg. Bless thy five wits! 
+Kent. O pity! Sir, where is the patience 
+now, 
+That you so oft have boasted to retain? 
+Edg. [Aside] My tears begin to take his 
+part so much, 
+They ‘Il mar my counterfeiting. 
+Lear. The little dogs and all, i 
+Tray, Blanch, and Sweet-heart, see, they bark 
+at me. 
+Edg. Tom will throw his head at them. 
+Avaunt, you curs! 
+Be thy mouth or black or white, 
+Tooth that poisons if it bite; 
+Mastiff, greyhound, mongrel grim, 
+Hound or spaniel, brach or lym, 
+Or bobtail tyke or trundle-tail, 
+Tom will make them weep and wail: 
+For, with throwing thus my head, 
+Dogs leap the hatch, and all are fled. 
+Do de, de, de. Sessa! Come, march to wakes 
+and fairs and market-towns. Poor Tom, thy 
+horn is dry. « 79 
+Lear. Then let them anatomize Regan; see 
+what breeds about her heart. Is there any 
+cause in nature that makes these hard hearts? 
+[To Edgar] You, sir, I entertain for one of 
+my hundred; only I do not like the fashion of 
+your garments: you will say they are Persian 
+attire; but let them be changed. 
+Kent. Now, good my lord, lie here and rest 
+awhile. 
+Lear. Make no noise, make no noise; draw 
+the curtains: so, so, so. We'll go to supper i’ 
+the morning. So, so, so. 
+
+
+Fool. And I'll go to bed at noon. 
+
+
+70 
+
+
+Re-enter GLOUCESTER. 
+
+
+Glou. Come hither, friend: where is the 
+king my master? 
+
+Kent. Here, sir; but trouble him not, his 
+wits are gone. 
+
+Glou. Good friend, I prithee, take him in 
+
+
+thy arms; 
+
+
+lake my oath before this honourable assembly, | 1 have o’erheard a plot of death upon him: 
+
+
+she kicked the poor king her father. 
+
+
+50 | There is a litter ready; lay him in’t, 
+
+
+aa 
+
+
+| 
+
+
+Act III, Se. VII] 
+
+
+KING LEAR 
+
+
+1077 
+
+
+And drive towards Dover, friend, where thou 
+shalt meet 
+
+Both welcome and protection. 
+master: 
+
+If thou shouldst dally half an hour, his life, 
+
+With thine, and all that offer to defend him, 
+
+Stand in assured loss: take up, take up; 
+
+And follow me, that will to some provision 
+
+Give thee quick conduct. 
+
+Kent. Oppressed nature sleeps: 
+
+This rest might yet have balm’d thy broken 
+sinews, 
+
+Which, if convenience will not allow, 
+
+
+Take up thy 
+99 
+
+
+Stand in hard cure. [To the Fool] Come, help | 
+
+
+to bear thy master; 
+Thou must not stay behind. 
+Glou, Come, come, away. 
+[Exeunt all but Edgar. 
+Edg. When we our betters see bearing our 
+woes, : 
+_ We scarcely think our miseries our foes. 110 
+o alone suffers suffers most i’ the mind, 
+Leaving free things and happy shows behind: 
+But phen the mind much sufferance doth o’er- 
+skip, 
+When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship. 
+How light and portable my pain seems now, 
+When that which makes me bend makes the 
+king bow, ; 
+He childed as I father’'d! Tom, away! 
+Mark the high noises; and thyself bewray, 
+When false opinion, whose wrong thought 
+defiles thee, 
+In thy just proof, repeals and reconciles thee. 
+What will hap more to-night, safe ‘scape the 
+
+
+~ king! 121 
+Lurk, lurk. [Exit. 
+ScENE VII. Gloucester’s castle. 
+
+
+Enter ConNWALL, Recan, GonerIL, 
+EDMUND, and Servants. 
+
+
+Corn. Post speedily to my lord your hus- 
+band; show him this letter: the army of 
+France is landed. Seek out the villain Glou- 
+cester. [Exeunt some of the Servants. 
+
+Reg. Hang him instantly. : 
+
+Gon. Pluck out his eyes. 
+
+Corn. Leave him to my displeasure. Ed- 
+mund, keep you our sister company: the re- 
+venges we are bound to take upon your traitor- 
+ous father are not fit for your beholding. Ad- 
+vise the duke, where you are going, to a most 
+festinate preparation: we are bound to the like. 
+Our posts shall be swift and intelligent betwixt 
+us. Farewell, dear sister: farewell, my lord 
+of Gloucester. 
+
+
+Enter Oswatp. 
+
+
+How now! where's the king? 
+Osw. My lord of Gloucester hath convey’d 
+him hence: 
+Some five or six and thirty of his knights, , 
+Hot questrists after him, met him at gate; 
+Who, with some other of the lords dependants, 
+Are gone with him towards Dover; where 
+they boast 
+To have well-armed friends. 
+Corn. Get horses for your mistress. 20 
+Gon. Farewell, sweet lord, and sister. 
+Corn. Edmund, farewell. 
+[Exeunt Goneril, Edmund, and Oswald, 
+Go seek the traitor Gloucester, 
+Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us. 
+[Exeunt other Servants, 
+Though well we may not pass upon his life 
+Without the form of justice, yet our power 
+Shall do a courtesy to our wrath, which men 
+May blame, but not control. Who's there? 
+the traitor? 
+
+
+Enter GLoucesTEr, brought in by iwo or three. 
+
+
+Reg. Ingrateful fox! ‘tis he. 
+
+Corn. Bind fast his corky arms. 
+
+Glou. What mean your graces? Good my 
+
+friends, consider 30 
+You are my guests: do me no foul play, 
+friends. 
+
+Corn. Bind him, I say. [Servants bind him. 
+
+Reg. Hard, hard. O filthy traitor! 
+
+Glou. Unmerciful lady as you are, I ’m none. 
+
+Corn. To this chair bind him. Villain. 
+
+thou shalt find— [Regan plucks his beard. 
+
+Glou. By the kind gods, ‘tis most ignobly 
+
+done 
+To pluck me by the beard. 
+
+Reg. So white, and such a traitor! 
+
+Glou. Naughty lady, 
+These hairs, which thou dost ravish from my 
+
+chin, 
+Will quicken, and accuse thee: I am your host: 
+With robbers’ hands my hospitable favours 40 
+You should not ruffle thus. What will you do? 
+
+Corn. Come, sir, what letters had you late 
+
+from France? 
+
+Reg. Be simple answerer, for we know the 
+
+truth. 
+
+Corn. And what confederacy have you 
+
+with the traitors 
+Late footed in the kingdom? 
+Reg. To whose hands have you sent the 
+lunatic king? 
+Speak. 
+
+Glou. I have a letter guessingly set down, 
+Which came from one that’s of a neutzal heart, 
+And not from one opposed. 
+
+Corn. Cunning. 
+
+Reg. And false. 
+
+
+1078 KING 
+
+
+LEAR 
+
+
+Corn. Where hast thou sent the king? 50 
+
+Glou. To Dover. 
+
+Reg. Wherefore to Dover? Wast thou not 
+charged at peril— 
+
+Corn. Wherefore to Dover? Let him first 
+answer that. 
+
+Glou. 1 am tied to the stake, and I must 
+stand the course. 
+
+
+Reg. Wherefore to Dover, sir? 
+
+
+Glou. Because I would not see thy cruel 
+nails 
+Pluck out his poor old eyes; nor thy fierce 
+
+
+sister 
+In his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs. 
+The sea, with such a storm as his bare head 
+In hell-black night endured, would have buoy’d 
+up, 60 
+And quench’d the stelled fires: 
+Yet, poor old heart, he holp the heavens to rain. 
+If wolves had at thy gate howl’d that stern 
+time, 
+Thou shouldst have said ‘Good porter, turn the 
+
+
+key. 
+All iets else subscribed: but I shall see 
+The winged vengeance overtake such children. 
+Corn. See’t shalt thou never. Fellows, 
+hold the chair. 
+Upon these eyes of thine I ‘Il set my foot. 
+Glou. He that will think to live till he 
+be old, 
+Give me some help! O cruel! 
+Reg. One side will mock another; 
+other too. 
+Corn. If you see vengeance,— 
+First Serv. Hold your hand, my lord: 
+I have served you ever since I was a child; 
+But better service have I never done you 
+
+
+Than now to bid you hold. 
+
+
+O you gods! 
+the 
+
+
+Reg. How now, you dog! 
+First Serv. If you did wear a beard upon 
+your chin, 
+I'd shake it on this quarrel. What do you 
+mean ? 
+
+
+Corn. My villain! [They draw and fight. 
+
+First Serv. Nay, then, come on, and take 
+the chance of anger. 
+
+Reg. Give me thy sword. A peasant stand 
+up thus! 80 
+[Takes a sword, and runs at him behind, 
+
+First Serv. O, I am slain! My lord, you 
+have one eye left 
+
+
+To see some mischief on him. O! [Dies. 
+Corn. Lest it see more, prevent it. Out, 
+vile jelly! 
+Where is thy lustre now? 
+Glou. All dark and comfortless. Where's 
+
+
+my son Edmund? 
+Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature, 
+To guit this horrid act. 
+
+
+Reg. Out, treacherous villain! 
+Thou call’st on him that hates thee: 1 was he 
+That made the overture of thy treasons to us; 
+Who is too good to pity thee. 
+
+Glou. O my follies! then Edgar was dbsinalt 
+Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him! 
+
+Reg. Go thrust him out at gates, and let 
+
+him smell 
+His way to Dover. [Ex#t one with Gluliceste?. 
+How is ’t, my lord? how look you? 
+Corn. I have received a hurt: follow me, 
+lady. A 
+Turn out that eyeless villain; throw this slave 
+Upon the dunghill. Regan, I bleed apace: 
+Untimely comes this hurt: give me your arm. 
+[Exit Cornwall, led by Regan. 
+Sec. Serv. I'll never care what wickedness 
+
+
+I do, 
+; [f this man come to good. 
+| Third Serv. If she live long, 100 
+
+
+And in the end meet the old’ course of death, 
+Women will all turn monsters. 
+Sec. Serv. Let’s follow the old earl,’ and 
+get the Bedlam 
+To lead him where he would: his foguish 
+madness 
+Allows itself to any thing. 
+Third Serv. Go thou: Ill fetch some flax 
+and white of eggs 
+To apply to his bleeding face. 
+help him! 
+
+
+Now, heaven 
+[Exeunt severally. 
+
+
+ACT IV. 
+
+
+Scene I, The heath. 
+Enter Epcar. 
+Edg. 
+contemn’d, 
+Than still contemn’d and flatter’d. To be worst, 
+The lowest and most dejected thing of fortune, 
+Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear: 
+The lamentable change is from the best; 
+The worst returns to laughter. Welcome, then, 
+Thou unsubstantial air that I embrace! 
+The wretch that thou hast blown unto the 
+worst 
+Owes nothing to thy blasts. 
+here> 
+
+
+Enter Gioucester, led by Old Man. 
+My father, poorly led? World, world, O world! 
+
+
+But that thy strange mutations make us hate 
+thee, iat 
+Life would not yield to age. 
+
+Old Man. O, my good lord, I have been 
+your tenant, and your father’s tenant, these 
+fourscore years. 
+
+Glou. Away, get thee away; good friend. 
+
+be gone: 
+
+
+But who comes 
+
+
+fAcr IV, seh 
+
+
+Yet better thus, and known to be 
+
+
+S 
+c 
+
+
+“4 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. II] 
+
+
+Thy comforts can do me no good at all; 
+
+Thee they may hurt. 
+
+Old Man. Alack, sir, you cannot see your 
+way. 
+
+Glou. I have no way, and therefore want 
+no eyes; 
+
+I stumbled when I saw: full oft ‘tis seen, 
+
+Our means secure us, and our mere defects 
+
+Prove our commodities. O dear son Edgar, 
+
+The food of thy abused father’s wrath! 
+
+Might I but live to see thee in my touch, 
+
+I "Id say I had eyes again! 
+Old Man. How now! Who's there? 
+Edg. [Aside] O gods! Who is’t can say 
+
+‘I am at the worst’? 
+
+I am worse than e’er I was, 
+
+Old Man. "Tis poor mad Tom. 
+Edg. [Aside] And »vorse I may be yet: 
+the worst is not 
+
+. So long as we can say “This is the worst.’ 30 
+
+~ Old Man. Fellow, where goest? 
+
+Glou. Is it a beggar-man ? 
+
+Old Man. Madman and beggar too. 
+
+Glou. He has some reason, else he could 
+not beg. 
+
+T’ the last night’s storm I such a fellow saw; 
+
+Which made me think a man a worm: my son 
+
+Came then into my mind; and yet my mind 
+
+Was then scarce friends with him: I have 
+
+heard more since. 
+
+As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods, 
+
+They kill us for their ‘sport. 
+
+Edg. [Aside] How should this be? 39 
+
+Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow, 
+
+Angering itself and others.—Bless thee, master! 
+
+
+Glou. Is that the naked fellow? 
+
+Old Man. Ay, my lord. 
+
+Glou. Then, prithee, get thee gone: if, for 
+my sake, 
+
+
+Thou wilt o’ertake us, hence a mile or twain, 
+I’ the way toward Dover, do it for ancient love; 
+And bring some covering for this naked soul, 
+Who I'll entreat to lead me. 
+Old Man. Alack, sir, he is mad. 
+Glou. "Tis the times’ plague, when madmen 
+lead the blind. 
+
+Do as | bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure; 
+
+Above the rest, be gone. 
+
+Old Man. 1'll bring him the best 'parel 
+that I have, 
+Come on't what will. [Exit. 
+Glou. Sirrah, naked fellow,— 
+Edg.**Poor Tom's a-cold, [Aside]I cannot 
+daub it further. ‘ 
+
+Glou. Come hither, fellow. 
+
+Edg. [Aside] And yet I must—Bless thy 
+sweet eyes, they bleed. 
+
+Glou. Know’st thou the way to Dover? 
+
+
+Edg. Both stile and gate, horse-way and J 
+
+
+KING LEAR 
+
+
+1079 
+
+
+foot-path. Poor Tom hath been scared out of 
+his good wits: bless thee, good man’s son, from 
+the foul fiend! five fiends have been in poor 
+Tom at once; of lust, as Obidicut; Hobbidi- 
+
+
+dance, prince of dumbness; Mahu, of steal- 
+
+
+20 | ing; Modo, of murder; Flibbertigibbet, of 
+
+
+moping and mowing, who since possesses cham- 
+ber-maids and waiting-women. So, bless thee, 
+master ! 
+Glou. Here, take this purse, thou whom the 
+heavens’ plagues 
+Have humbled to all strokes: 
+wretched 
+Makes thee the happier: heavens, deal so still! 
+Let the superfluous and lust-dieted man, 70 
+That slaves your ordinance, that will not see 
+Because he doth not feel, feel your power 
+quickly ; 
+So distribution should undo excess, 
+And each man have enough. Dost thou know 
+Dover ? 
+Edg. Ay, master. 
+Glou. There is a cliff, whose high and 
+bending head 
+Looks fearfully in the confined deep: 
+Bring me but to the very brim of it, 
+Aind I'll repair the misery thou dost bear 
+With something rich about me: from that place 
+I shall no leading need. 
+Edg. Give me thy arm: 8] 
+Poor Tom shall lead thee. [Lxeunt, 
+
+
+Scene II. Before the Duke of Albany's 
+palace. 
+Enter GoNnERIL and Epmunp. 
+Gon. Welcome, my lord: I marvel our 
+
+
+mild husband 
+
+
+Not met us on the way. 
+
+
+that I am 
+
+
+Enter Oswatp. 
+
+
+Now, where's your master > 
+Osw. Madam, within; but never man so 
+changed. 
+I told him of the army that was-landed; 
+He smiled at it: I told him you were coming; 
+His answer was “The worse:’ of Gloucester’s 
+treachery, 
+And of the loyal service of his son. 
+When I inform’d him, then he call'’d me soi, 
+And told me I had turn’d the wrong side out: 
+What most he should dislike seems pleasant to 
+him; 10 
+What like, offensive. 
+Gon. [To Edm.] Then shall you go no 
+further. 
+It is the cowish terror of his spirit, 
+That dares not undertake: he ‘II not feel wrongs 
+Which tie him to an answer. Our wishes on 
+the way 
+
+
+1080 
+
+
+KING LEAR 
+
+
+(One 
+
+
+IT 
+
+
+May prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my 
+brother ; 
+Hasten his musters and conduct his powers: 
+I must change arms at home, and give the 
+distaff 
+Into my husband's hands. This sat servant 
+Shall pass between us: ere long you are like to 
+hear, 
+If you dare venture in your own behalf, 20 
+A mistress’s command. Wear this; spare 
+speech; [Giving a favour. 
+Decline your head: this kiss, if it durst speak, 
+Would stretch thy spirits up into the air: 
+Conceive, and fare thee well. 
+Edm. Yours in the ranks of death. 
+Gon. My most dear Gloucester! 
+[Exit Edmund. 
+O, the difference of man and man! 
+To thee a woman’s services are due: 
+My fool usurps my body. 
+Osw. Madam, here comes my lord. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+Enter ALBANY. 
+
+
+Gon. I have been worth the whistle. 
+
+Alb. O Goneril! 
+You ‘are not worth the dust which the rude 
+
+wind 30 
+
+Blows in your face. I fear your disposition: 
+That nature, which contemns it origin, 
+Cannot be border’d certain in itself; 
+She that herself will sliver and disbranch 
+From her material sap, perforce must wither 
+And come to deadly use. 
+
+Gon. No more; the text is foolish. 
+
+
+Alb. Wisdom and goodness to the vile 
+
+
+seem vile: 
+Fikhs savour but themselves. What have you 
+done > 
+Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform’d? 
+A father, and a gracious aged man, 4] 
+Whose: reverence even the head-lugg’d bear 
+would lick, 
+
+
+Most barbarous, most degenerate! have you 
+madded. 
+Could my good brother suffer you to do it? 
+A man, a prince, by him so benefited! 
+If that the heavens do not their visible spirits 
+Send quickly down to tame these vile offences, 
+It will come, 
+Humanity must perforce prey on itself, 
+Like monsters of the deep. 
+Gon. Milk-liver’d man! 50 
+That bear'’st a cheek for blows, a head for 
+wrongs: 
+Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning 
+Thine honour from thy suffering; that not 
+know’st 
+Fools do those villains pity who are punish'd 
+
+
+Ere they have done their mischief. Where's 
+thy drum? 
+
+France rate: his banners in our iotieloes 
+land, 
+
+With plumed helm thy state begins to threat; 
+
+Whiles thou, a moral fool, sit’st still, and criest 
+
+*“Alack, why does he so?’ 
+
+Alb See thyself, devil! 
+Basces deformity seems not in the fiend 60 
+So horrid as in woman. 
+
+
+Gon. O vain fool! 
+Alb. Thou changed and self-cover’d thing, 
+for shame, 
+
+
+Be-monster not thy feature. Were 't my fitness 
+To let these hands obey my blood, 
+They are apt enough to dislocate and tear - 
+Thy flesh and bones: howe’er thou art a fiend, 
+A woman's shape doth shield thee. 
+
+Gon. Marry, your manhood now— 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+Alb. What news? 
+Mess. O, my good lord, the Duke of Corn. 
+wall ’s dead; 
+Slain by his servant, going to put out 
+The other eye of Gloucester. 
+
+
+Alb. Gloucester’s eyes! 
+Mess. A servant that he bred, thrill’d with 
+remorse, 
+
+
+Opposed against the act, bending his sword 
+To his great master; who, thereat enraged, 
+Flew on him, and amongst them fell’d him 
+
+
+dead; 
+
+
+But not without ‘that harmful stroke, which F 
+
+
+since 
+eee dpe him after. 
+
+This shows you are above, 
+at dca that these our nether crimes 
+So speedily can venge! But, O poor Gloucester! 
+Lost he his other eye? 
+
+Mess. Both, both, my lord. 81. 
+This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer; 
+‘Tis from your sister. 
+
+Gon. [Aside] One way | like this well; 
+But being widow, and my Gloucester with her, 
+May all the building in my fancy pluck 
+Upon my hateful life: another way, 
+The news is not so tart—I 'll read, and answer. 
+
+[Exit. 
+
+Alb. Where was his son when they did 
+
+take his eyes? 
+
+
+Mess. Come with my lady hither. 
+
+Alb. He is not here, 90 
+
+Mess. No, my good lord; I met him back — 
+again. 
+
+Alb. Knows he the wickedness? 
+
+Mess. Ay, my good lord; "twas he in’ — 
+
+
+form'd against him; 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. IL 
+
+
+, 
+Le 
+
+
+é 
+ie 
+
+
+“Act IV, Se. IV] 
+
+
+- Scene III. 
+
+
+KING LEAR 
+
+
+1081 
+
+
+Esa aS mr ee aS CR 
+
+
+And quit the house on purpose, that their | Such different issues, 
+
+
+punishment 
+Might have the freer course. 
+Alb. Gloucester, I live 
+To thank thee for the love thou show'dst the 
+king, 
+And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither, 
+friend: 
+
+
+Tell me what more thou know’st. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+The French camp near Dover. 
+: Enter KENT and a Gentleman. 
+Kent. Why the King of France is so sud- 
+
+
+denly gone back know you the reason? 
+
+Gent. Something he left imperfect in the 
+state, which since his coming forth is thought 
+of; which imports to the kingdom so much 
+fear and danger, that his personal return was 
+most required and necessary. 
+
+
+Kent, Who hath he left behind him general ? 
+
+
+~~ Gent. The Marshal of France, Monsieur 
+
+
+La Far. 10 
+Kent. Did your letters pierce the queen to 
+any demonstration of grief? 
+Gent. Ay, sir; she took them, read them in 
+my presence; 
+And now and then an ample tear trill'd down 
+Her delicate cheek: it seem'd she was a queen 
+Over her passion; who, most rebel-like, 
+Sought to be king o'er her. 
+Kent. O, then it moved her. 
+‘Gent. Not to a rage: patience and sorrow 
+
+
+{ strove 
+Who should express her goodliest. You have 
+_ seen 
+Sunshine and rain at once: her smiles and 
+tears 20 
+
+
+1 Were like a better way: those happy smilets, 
+That play’d on her ripe lip, seem’d not to know 
+
+
+What guests were in her eyes: which parted 
+
+
+thence, r 
+As pearls from diamonds dropp’d. In brief, 
+Sorrow would be a rarity most beloved, 
+If all could so become it. 
+Kent. Made she no verbal question? 
+_ Gent. ‘Faith, once or twice she heaved the 
+name of ‘father’ 
+Pantingly forth, as if it press’d her heart; 
+
+
+Cried ‘Sisters! sisters! Shame of ladies! 
+sisters! 
+
+Kent! father! sisters! What, i’ the storm? i’ 
+the night? 30 
+
+
+Let pity’ not be believed!’ There she shook 
+The holy water from her heavenly eyes, 
+And clamour moisten’d: then away she started 
+To deal with grief alone. 
+
+Kent. It is the stars. 
+The stars above us, govern our conditions; 
+Else one self mate and mate could not beget 
+
+
+You spoke not with her 
+
+
+since ? 
+Gent. No. 
+Kent. Was this before the king return’d? 
+Gent. No, since. 
+
+
+Kent. Well, sir, the poor distressed Lear's 
+1’ the town; 40 
+Who sometime, in his better tune, remembers 
+What we are come about, and by no means 
+Will yield to see his daughter, 
+Gent, Why, good sir? 
+Kent. A sovereign shame so elbows him: 
+his own unkindness, 
+That stripp'd her from his benediction, turn’d 
+er 
+To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights 
+To his dog-hearted daughters, these things sting 
+
+
+His mind so venomously, that burning shame 
+Detains him from Cordelia. 
+Gent. Alack, poor gentleman! 
+Kent. Of Albany’s and Cornwall's powers 
+you heard not?. 
+Gent. "Tis so, they are afoot, 
+Kent. Well, sir, I'll bring you to our 
+master Lear, 
+And leave you to attend him: some dear cause 
+Will in concealment wrap me up awhile; 
+When I am known aright, you shall not grieve 
+Lending me this acquaintance. I pray you, go 
+Along with me. [Exeuni. 
+
+
+Scene IV. The same. A tent. 
+
+
+Enter, with drum and colours, CoRDELIA, 
+Doctor, and Soldiers. 
+
+
+Cor. Alack, ’tis he: why, he was met even 
+now 
+As mad as the vex’d sea; singing aloud; 
+Crown'd with rank fumiter and furrow-weeds, 
+With bur-docks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo- 
+flowers, 49 
+Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow 
+In our sustaining corn. A century send forth; 
+Search every acre in the high-grown field, 
+And bring him to our eye. [Exit an Officer.} 
+What can man’s wisdom 
+In the restoring his bereaved sense? 
+He that helps him take all my outward worth. 
+Doct. There is means, madam: VW 
+Our foster-nurse of nature is repose, 
+The which he lacks; that to provoke in him, 
+Are many simples operative, whose power 
+Will close the eye of anguish. : 
+Cor. All blest: secrets, 
+All you unpublish’d virtues of :the earth, 
+Spring with my tears! be aidant and remediate 
+In the good man’s distress! Seek, seek for 
+him; 
+Lest his ungovern’d rage dissolve the life 
+That wants the means to lead it. 
+
+
+1082 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+Mess. News, madam; 20 
+The British powers are marching hitherward. 
+Cor. ‘Tis known before; our preparation 
+stands 
+In expectation of them. O dear father, 
+It is thy business that I go about; 
+Therefore great France 
+My mourning and important tears hath pitied. 
+No blown ambition doth our arms incite, 
+But love, dear love and our aged father’s right: 
+Soon may I hear and see him! [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene V. Gloucester’s castle. 
+Enter REGAN and OswaLpb. 
+
+
+Reg. But are my brother's powers set forth? 
+sb. Ay, madam. 
+Reg. Himself in person there? 
+Osw. Madam, with much ado: 
+Your sister is the better soldier. 
+Reg. Lord Edmund spake not with your 
+lord at home? 
+Osw. No, madam. 
+Reg. What might import my sister's letter 
+to him? 
+Osw. I know not, lady. 
+Reg. ‘Faith, he is posted hence on serious 
+matter, 
+It was great ignorance, Gloucester’s eyes being 
+out, 
+To let him live: where he arrives he moves 10 
+All hearts against us: Edmund, I think, is 
+gone, 
+In pity of his misery, to dispatch 
+His nighted life; moreover, to descry 
+The strength o’ the enemy. 
+Osw. I must needs after him, madam, with 
+my letter. 
+Reg. Our troops set forth to-morrow: stay 
+with us; 
+The ways are dangerous. 
+Osw. I may not, madam: 
+My lady charged my duty in this business. 
+Reg. Why should she write to Edmund? 
+Might not you 
+Transport her purposes by word? Belike, 20 
+Something—I know not what: I'll love thee 
+
+
+much, 
+Let me unseal the letter. 
+Os. Madam, I had rather— 
+
+
+Reg. I know your lady does not love her 
+husband; 
+I am sure of that: and at her late being here 
+She gave strange ceillades and most speaking 
+looks 
+To noble Edmund. 
+bosom. 
+Ow I, mader? 
+
+
+I know you are of her 
+
+
+KING LEAR 
+
+
+) 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. VI 
+
+
+Reg. I speak in understanding; you are, I 
+know ‘t: 
+Therefore I do advise you, take this note: 
+My lord is dead; Edmund and | have talk’d; 
+And more convenient is he for my hand 31 
+Than for your lady’s: you may gather more, 
+If you do find him, pray you, give him this; 
+And when your mistress hears thus much from 
+you, 
+I pray, desire her call her wisdom to her. 
+So, fare you well. 
+If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor, 
+Preferment falls on him that cuts him off. 
+Osw. Would I could meet him, madam! I 
+should show 
+What party I do follow. 
+Reg. Fare thee well. [Exeunt. 40 
+
+
+Scene VI. Fields near Dover. 
+
+
+Enter GLoucesTER, and Epcar dressed like 
+a peasant. 
+Glou. When shall we come to the top of 
+that same hill? 
+Edg. You do climb up it now: look, how 
+we labour. 
+Glou. Methinks the ground is even. 
+
+
+Edg. Horrible steep. 
+Hark, do you hear the sea? 
+Glou. No, truly. 
+Edg. Why, then, your other senses grow 
+imperfect 
+By your eyes’ anguish. 
+Glou. So may it be, indeed: 
+
+
+Methinks thy yoice is alter’d; and thou speak’st 
+In better phrase and matter than thou didst. 
+Edg. You're much deceived: in nothing 
+am I changed ; 
+But in my garments. 
+Glou. Methinks you're better spoken. 10 
+Edg. Come on, sir; here's the place: stand 
+still. How fearful 
+And dizzy ‘tis, to cast one’s eyes so low! 
+The crows and choughs that wing the midway 
+air 
+Show scarce so gross as beetles: half way down 
+Hangs one that gathers samphire, dreadful 
+trade! 
+Methinks he seems no bigger than his head: 
+The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, 
+Appear like mice; and yond tall anchoring 
+bark, 
+Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy 
+Almost too small for sight: the murmuring 
+surge, 
+That on the unnumber’d idle pebbles chafes, 
+Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more; 
+Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight 
+Topple down headlong. 
+Glou. Set me where you stand 
+
+
+e 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+Acr IV, Sc, VI] 
+
+
+KING LEAR 
+
+
+1083 
+
+
+en 
+
+
+» Edg. Give me 
+
+within a foot 
+Of the extreme verge: for all beneath the moon 
+Would | not leap upright. 
+
+Glou. Let go my hand. 
+Here, friend, 's another purse; in it a jewel 
+Well worth a poor man’s taking: fairies and 
+
+gods 
+Prosper it with thee! Go thou farther of; 30 
+Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going. 
+
+Edg. Now fare you well, good sir. ; 
+
+Glou. With all my heart. 
+
+Edg. Why | do trifle thus with his despair 
+Is done to cure it.. 
+
+Glou. [Kneeling] O you mighty gods! 
+This world I do renounce, and in your sights, 
+Shake patiently my great affliction off: 
+
+If I could bear it longer, and not fall 
+
+
+To quarrel with your great opposeless wills, 
+My snuff and loathed part of nature should 39 
+
+
+- Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him! 
+
+
+Now, fellow, fare thee well. [He falls forward. 
+Edg. Gone, sir: farewell. 
+And yet I know not how conceit may rob 
+The treasury of life, when life itself 
+Yields to the theft: had he been where he 
+thought, 
+By this, had thought been past. Alive or dead? 
+Ho, you sir! friend! Hear you, sir! speak! 
+Thus might he pass indeed: yet he revives. 
+What are you, sir? 
+Glou. Away, and let me die. 
+Edg. Hadst thou been aught but gossamer, 
+feathers, air, 
+So many fathom down precipitating, 50 
+Thou ‘dst shiver’d like an egg: but thou dost 
+breathe; 
+Hast heavy substance; bleed’st not; speak'st; 
+art sound. 
+Ten masts at each make not the altitude 
+Which thou hast perpendicularly fell: 
+Thy life’s a miracle. Speak yet again. 
+Glou. But have I fall’n, or no? 
+Edg. From the dread summit of this chalky 
+bourn. 
+Look up a-height; the shrill-gorged lark so 
+far : 
+Cannot be seen or heard: do but look up. 
+Glou. Alack, I have no eyes. 
+Is wretchedness deprived that benefit, 
+To end itself by death? "Twas yet some com- 
+fort, 
+When, misery could besuile the tyrant's rage, 
+And frustrate his proud will. 
+Edg. Give me your arm: 
+Up: so. How is 't? Feel you your legs? You 
+stand, 
+Glou. Too well, too well. 
+Edg. This is above all strangeness. 
+
+
+your hand: you are now} Upon the crown o’ the cliff, what thing was 
+
+
+that 
+Which parted from you? 
+
+
+lou. A poor unfortunate beggar. 
+Edg. As I stood here below, methought his 
+eyes 
+Were two full moons; he had a thousand 
+noses, 70 
+Horns whelk’d and waved like the enridge 
+
+
+sea: 
+{t was some fiend; therefore, thou happy father, 
+Think that the clearest gods, who make them 
+honours 
+Of men’s impossibilities, have preserved thee. 
+Glou. I do remember now: henceforth | "Il 
+bear 
+Affliction till it do cry out itself 
+Enough, enough,’ and die. That thing you 
+speak of, 
+‘ took it for a man; often ‘twould say 
+The fiend, the fiend:’ he led me to that place, 
+Edg. Bear free and patient thoughts. But 
+who comes here? 80 
+
+
+Enter Lear, fantastically dressed with wild 
+flowers. 
+
+
+The safer sense will ne'er accommodate 
+His master thus. 
+
+Lear. No, they cannot touch me for coining; 
+1 am the king himself. 
+
+Fdg. O thou side-piercing sight! 
+
+Lear. Nature's above art in that respect. 
+There 's your press-money, That fellow handles 
+his bow like a crow-keeper: draw me a 
+clothier’s yard. Look, look, a mouse! Peace, 
+peace; this piece of toasted cheese will do’t. 
+There 's my gauntlet; I'll prove it on a giant. 
+Bring up the brown bills. O, well flown, bird! 
+l' the clout, i’ the clout: hewgh! Give the 
+word, 
+
+Edg. Sweet marjoram. 
+
+Lear. Pass, 
+
+Glou. I know that voice. 
+
+Lear. Ha! Goneril, with a white beard! 
+They flattered me like a dog; and told me I 
+had white hairs in my beard ere the black ones 
+svere there. To say ‘ay’ and ‘no’ to every 
+thing that I said! —‘Ay’ and ‘no’ too was no 
+~ood divinity. When the rain came to wet me 
+once, and the wind to make me chatter; when 
+the thunder would not peace at my bidding; 
+‘here I found ‘em, there I smelt *em out. Go 
+to, they are not men o’ their words: they told 
+me I was every thing; ’tis a lie, I am not ague- 
+proof, 
+
+Glou. The trick of that voice I do well re- 
+
+member: 
+Is"t not the king? 
+
+
+Lear. Ay, every inch a king: 109 
+
+
+1084 
+
+
+KING LEAR 
+
+
+rAcr IV, Sc. V¥ 
+
+
+When I do stare, see how the subject quakes. 
+I pardon that man’s life. What was thy cause ? 
+Adultery > t 
+Thou shalt not die: die for adultery! _ No: 
+The wren goes to’t, and the small gilded fly 
+Does lecher in my sight. 
+Let copulation thrive; for Gloucester’s bastard 
+son 
+Was kinder to his father than my daughters 
+Got ‘tween the lawful sheets. 
+To 't, luxury, pell-mell! for I lack soldiers. 
+Behold yond simpering dame, 120 
+Whose face between her forks presages snow; 
+That minces virtue, and does shake the head 
+To hear of pleasure’s name; 
+The fitchew, nor the soiled horse, goes to 't 
+With a more riotous’ appetite. 
+Down from the waist they are Centaurs, 
+Though women all above: 
+But to the girdle do the gods inherit, 
+Beneath is all the fiends’ ; 
+There ’s hell, there ’s darkness, there ’s the sul- 
+phurous pit, 130 
+
+Burning, scalding, stench, consumption; fie, 
+fie, fie! pah, pah! Give me an ounce of civet, 
+good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination: 
+there 's money for thee. 
+
+Glou. O, let me kiss that hand! 
+
+Lear. Let me wipe it first; it smells of 
+
+
+mortality. 
+Glou. O ruin’d piece of nature! This great 
+world 
+Shall so wear out to nought. Dost thou know 
+me? 
+
+
+Lear. 1 remember thine eyes well enough. 
+Dost thou squint at me? No, do thy worst, 
+blind Cupid; I'll not love. Read thou this 
+challenge; mark but the penning of it. 
+
+Glou. Were all the letters suns, | could not 
+
+see one. 
+
+Edg. 1 would not take this from report; 
+
+it Is, 
+And my heart breaks at it. 
+
+Lear. Read. 
+
+Glou. What, with the case of eyes? 
+
+Lear. O, ho, are you there with me? No 
+eyes in your head, nor no money in your 
+purse? Your eyes are in a heavy case, your 
+purse in a light: yet you see how this world 
+goes. 151 
+
+Glou. I see it feelingly. 
+
+Lear. What, art mad? A man may see 
+how this world goes with no eyes. Look with 
+thine ears: see how yond justice rails upon 
+yond simple thief. Hark, in thine ear: change 
+places; and, handy-dandy, which is the justice, 
+which is the thief? Thou hast seen a farmer’s 
+dog bark at - beggar? 
+
+Glou. Ay, sir. 160 
+
+
+Lear. And the creature run from the cur? 
+There thou mightst behold the great image of 
+authority: a dog 's obeyed: in office. A 
+Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand! 
+Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine 
+
+own back; 
+Thou hotly lust’st to use 
+For which thou whipp’st her. 
+
+hangs the cozener. 
+Through tatter’d clothes small vices do appear; 
+Robes and furr’d gowns hide all. Plate sin 
+
+with gold, 151169 
+And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks ; 
+Arm it in rags, a pigmy’s straw does pierce it, 
+None does offend, none, I say, none; Ill able 
+
+
+her in that kind 
+The usurer 
+
+
+‘em: 
+Take that of me, my friend, who have the 
+power : 
+
+
+To seal the accuser’s lips. Get thee glass eyes; 
+And, like a scurvy politician, seem 
+To see the things thou dost not. Now, now- 
+now, now: 
+Pull off my boots: harder, harder: so. 
+Edg. O, matter and impertinency mix'd! 
+Reason in madness! 
+Lear. If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take 
+my eyes. 180 
+I know thee well enough; thy name is Glou- 
+cester: 
+Thou must be patient; we came crying hither: 
+Thou know’st the first time that we smell the 
+air, 
+We wawl and cry. I will preach to thee: mark. 
+Glou. Alack, alack the day! . 
+Lear. When we are born, we cry that we 
+are come 
+To this great stage of fools: this’ a good block; 
+It were a delicate stratagem, to shoe 
+A troop of horse with felt: I "ll put 't in proof; 
+And when I have stol’n upon these sons-in-law, 
+
+
+Then, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill) kill! 191 
+Enter a Gentleman, with Attendants. 
+
+
+wae O, here’ he is: lay hand upon him. 
+ir, 
+Your most dear daughter— 
+Lear. No rescue? What, a prisoner? I 
+am even 
+The natural fool of fortune. Use me well; 
+You shall have ransom. Let me have surgeons; 
+I am cut to the brains. 
+Gent. You shall have any thing. 
+Lear. No seconds? all myself? 
+Why, this would make a man a man of salt, 
+To use his eyes for garden water-pots, 200 
+Ay, and laying autumn’s dust. 
+Gent. Good sir,— 
+Lear. I will die bravely, like a bride- 
+groom. What! 
+
+
+ay 
+
+
+‘Act IV, Sc. VI] KING 
+
+
+Sm ont 
+
+
+I will be jovial: come, come; I am a king, 
+My masters, know you that. 
+
+Gent, You are a royal one, and we obey 
+
+you. 
+
+Lear. Then there's life in't. Nay, if you 
+get it, you shall get it with running. Sa, sa, sa, 
+sa. [Exit running; Attendants follow. 
+: Gent. A sight most pitiful in the meanest 
+wretch, 
+
+Past speaking of in a king! Thou hast one 
+; _ daughter, 
+_ Who redeems nature from the general curse 
+i Which twain have brought her to. 211 
+‘ Edg. Hail, gentle sir, 
+Gent. _ Sir, speed you: what's your will > 
+
+Edg. Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle 
+
+toward ? 
+
+Gent. Most sure and vulgar: 
+
+hears that, 
+Which can distinguish sound. 
+
+Edg. But, by your favour, 
+How near 's the other army ? 
+
+Gent. Near and on speedy foot; the main 
+
+descry 
+; Stands on the hourly thought. 
+Edg. I thank you, sir: that's all. 
+! Gent.. Though that the queen on special 
+cause is here, 
+Her army is moved on. 
+
+
+every one 
+
+
+Edg. I thank you, sir. 220 
+
+[Exit Gent. 
+
+Glou. You ever-gentle gods, take my breath 
+from me; 
+
+
+Let not my worser spirit tempt me again 
+To die before you please! 
+
+
+Edg. Well pray you, father. 
+Glou. Now, good ‘sir, what are you? 
+Edg. A most poor man, made tame to for- 
+
+
+tune’s blows; 
+Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows, 
+Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your 
+hand, 
+I'll lead you to some biding. 
+ou. Hearty thanks: 
+_ The bounty and the benison of heaven 
+To boot, and boot! 
+
+
+Enter Oswatp. 
+
+
+= Oren eee. 
+
+
+Osw. _ A proclaim’d prize! Most happy! 
+That eyeless head of thine was first framed 
+
+
+flesh 231 
+To raise my fortunes. Thou old unhappy 
+traitor, 
+
+
+Briefly thyself remember: the sword is out 
+‘That must destroy thee. 
+
+
+Glou. Now let thy friendly hand 
+Put strength enough to't. [Edgar interposes. 
+; Osw. Wherefore, bold peasant, 
+
+
+Darest thou support a publish'd traitor > Hence; 
+
+
+LEAR 1085 
+
+
+Lest that the infection of his fortune take 
+Like hold on thee. Let go his arm. 
+
+Edg. Chill not let go, zir, without vurther 
+‘casion. 24¢ 
+
+Osw. Let go, slave, or thou diest! 
+
+Edg. Good gentleman, go your gait, and let 
+poor volk pass. An chud ha’ bin zwaggered 
+out of my life, "twould not ha’ bin zo long as 
+‘tis by a vortnight. Nay, come not near th’ 
+old man; keep out, che vor ye, or ise try 
+whether your costard or my ballow be the 
+
+
+harder: chill be plain with you. 
+Osm. Out, dunghill! 
+Edg. Chill pick your teeth, zir: come; no 
+matter vor your foins. 251 
+[They fight, and Edgar knocks him down. 
+Osw. Slave, thou hast slain me: villain, 
+take my purse: 
+If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body; 
+And give the letters which thou find’st about 
+me 
+To Edmund earl of Gloucester; seek him out 
+Upon the British party: O, untimely death! 
+[Dies. 
+Edg. I know thee well: a serviceable villain; 
+As duteous to the vices of thy mistress 
+As badness would desire. 
+Glou. What, is he dead? 
+Edg. Sit you down, father; rest you. 260 
+Let’s see these pockets: the letters that he 
+
+
+speaks of 
+May be my friends. He’s dead; I am only 
+sorry 
+
+
+He had no other death’s-man. Let us see: 
+
+Leave, gentle wax; and, manners, blame us 
+not: 
+
+To know our enemies’ minds, we ’Id rip their 
+hearts; 
+
+Their papers, is more lawful. 
+
+[Reads] ‘Let our reciprocal vows be remem- 
+bered. You have many opportunities to cut 
+him off: if your will want not, time and place 
+will be fruitfully offered. There is nothing 
+done, if he return the conqueror: then am [ 
+the prisoner, and his bed my gaol; from the 
+loathed warmth whereof deliver me, and sup- 
+ply the place for your labour. 
+
+- “Your—wife, so I would say— 
+
+“Affectionate servant, 
+
+*‘GoneERIL.’ 
+
+O undistinguish’d space of woman’s will! 
+plot upon her virtuous husband's life; 
+And the exchange my brother! Here, in the 
+sands, 
+
+Thee I'll rake up, the post unsanctifed 28] 
+Of murderous lechers: and in the mature time 
+With this ungracious paper strike the sight 
+Of the death-practised duke: for him ’tis well 
+That of thy death and business I can tell, 
+
+
+1086 
+
+
+Glou. The king is mad: how stiff is my 
+vile sense, 
+That I stand up, and have ingenious feeling 
+Of my huge sorrows! Better I were distract: 
+So should my thoughts be sever’d from my 
+griefs, 
+And woes by wrong imaginations lose 290 
+The knowledge of themselves. 
+Edg. Give me your hand: 
+[Drum afar off. 
+Far off, methinks, | hear the beaten drum: 
+Come, father, I ‘ll bestow you with a friend, 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene VII. A tent in the French camp. 
+Lear on a bed asleep, soft music playing ; 
+Gentleman, and others attending. 
+
+
+Enter CorvELia, KENT, and Doctor. 
+Cor. O thou good Kent, how shall I live 
+
+
+and work, 
+
+To match thy goodness > 
+short, 
+
+And every measure fail me. 
+
+Kent. To be acknowledged, madam, 1s 
+
+o’er-paid. 
+
+All my reports go with the modest truth; 
+
+Nor more nor clipp’d, but so. 
+
+Cor. Be better suited: 
+These weeds are memories of those worser 
+
+hours: 
+I prithee, put them off. 
+
+Kent. Pardon me, dear madam; 
+Yet to be known shortens my made intent: 
+My boon I make it, that you know me not 10 
+Till time and | think meet. 
+
+Cor. Then be’t so, my good lord, [To the 
+
+Doctor] How does the king? 
+
+Doct. Madam, sleeps still. 
+
+Cor. O you kind gods, 
+
+Cure this great breach in his abused nature! 
+The untuned and jarring senses, O, wind up 
+Of this child-changed father! 
+
+Doct. So please your majesty 
+That we may wake the king: he hath slept lone. 
+
+Cor. Be govern’d by your knowledge, and 
+
+procee 
+I’ the sway of your own will. Is he array'd? 
+Gent. Ay, madam; in the heaviness of his 
+sleep 
+We put fresh garments on him. 
+Doct. Be by, good madam, when we do 
+awake him; 
+I doubt not of his temperance. 
+
+Cor. Very well. 
+
+Doct. Please you, draw near. Louder the 
+
+music there! 
+
+Cor. O my dear father! Restoration hang 
+Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kiss 
+Repair those violent harms that my two sisters 
+
+
+My life will be too 
+
+
+KING LEAR 
+
+
+ —— —————————————— 
+
+
+[Act IV, Se. VII 
+
+
+Have in thy reverence made! 
+Kent. Kind and dear princess! 
+Cor. Had you not been their father, these 
+
+white flakes 30 
+
+Had challenged pity of them. Was this a face 
+
+To be opposed against the warring winds? 
+
+To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder ? 
+
+In the most terrible and nimble stroke 
+
+Of quick, cross lightning? to watch—poor 
+perdu!— 
+
+With this thin helm? Mine enemy’s dog, 
+
+Though he had bit me, should have stood that 
+night 
+
+Against my fire; and wast thou fain, poor 
+father, 
+
+To hovel thee with swine, and rogues forlorn, 
+
+In short and musty straw? Alack, alack! 40 
+
+‘Tis wonder that thy life and wits at once 
+
+Had not concluded all. He wakes; speak to 
+him. 
+
+Doct. Madam, do you; ‘tis fittest. 
+
+Cor. How does my royal lord? How fares 
+
+your majesty? 
+
+Lear. You do me wrong to take me out 0° 
+
+the grave: 
+Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound 
+Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears 
+Do scald like molten lead. 
+
+Cor. Sir, do you know me? 
+
+Lear. You are a spirit, | know: when did 
+
+you die? 
+
+Cor. Still, still, far wide! 50 
+
+Doct. He’s scarce awake: let him alone 
+
+awhile. 
+
+Lear. Where have I been? Where am 1? 
+
+Fair daylight? 
+I am mightily abused. I should e’en die with 
+pity, 
+To see another thus. I know not what to say. 
+I will not swear these are my hands: let’s see; 
+I feel this pin prick. Would I were assured 
+Of my condition! 
+
+Cor. O, look upon’ me, sir, 
+And hold your hands in benediction o'er me: 
+No, sir, you must not kneel. 
+
+Lear. Pray, do not mock me: 
+1 am a-very foolish fond old man, 
+
+Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor 
+
+
+less; 
+And, to deal plainly, 
+I fear I am not in my perfect mind, 
+Methinks I should know you, and know this 
+
+
+man; 
+
+Yet I am doubtful: for ] am mainly ignorant 
+
+What place this is; and all the skill I have 
+
+Remembers not these garments; nor I know nof 
+
+Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugk 
+at me; 
+
+For, as I am a’man, I think this lady 
+
+
+TOG et ce 
+
+
+Ce ee ee See te 
+
+
+x 
+
+
+or 
+
+
+~ Act V, Sc. I) | 
+
+
+KING LEAR 
+
+
+1087 
+
+
+SO a 
+
+
+To be my child Cordelia. 
+
+2)'Cor. And so am 1, I am. 70 
+Lear. Be your tears wet? yes, ‘faith. 
+
+pray, weep not: 
+
+If you have poison for me, I will drink it. 
+
+I know you do not love me; for your sisters 
+
+Have, as I do remember, done me wrong: 
+
+You have some cause, they have not. 
+
+Cor. No cause, no cause. 
+
+Lear. Am I in France? 
+
+Kent. In your own kingdom, sir. 
+
+Lear. Do not abuse me. : 
+
+Doct. Be comforted, good madam: the 
+
+great rage, 
+You see, is kill'd in him: and yet it is danger 
+To make him even o’er the time he has lost. 80 
+Desire him to go in; trouble him not more 
+Till further settling. 
+
+Cor. Will’t please your highness walk> 
+
+Lear. You must bear with me: 
+Pray you now, forget and forgive: I am old 
+
+and foolish. 
+[Exeunt all but Kent and Gentleman. 
+
+Gent. Holds it true, sir, that the Duke of 
+Cornwall was so slain? 
+
+Kent. Most certain, sir. 
+
+Gent. Who is conductor of his people? 
+
+Kent. As ‘tis said, the bastard son of 
+Gloucester. 90 
+
+Gent. They say Edgar, his banished son, is 
+with the Earl of Kent in Germany. 
+
+Kent. Report is changeable. "Tis time to 
+look about; the powers of the kingdom ap- 
+proach apace. ; 
+
+Gent. The arbitrement is like to be bloody. 
+Fare you well, sir. [Exit. 
+
+Kent. My point and period will be thor- 
+
+oughly wrought, - 
+Dr well or ill, as this day’s battle 's fought. 99 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+
+
+ACT V. 
+
+
+Scene I. The British camp, near Dover. 
+Enter, with drum and colours, EDMUND, 
+Recan, Gentlemen, and Soldiers. 
+
+Edm. Know of the duke if his last purpose 
+hold, ; 
+Or whether since he is advised by aught 
+To change the course: he’s full of alteration 
+And self-reproving: bring his constant pleasure. 
+[To a Gentleman, who goes out. 
+Reg. Our sister's man is certainly miscarried. 
+Edm. ‘Tis to be doubted, mac am. 
+Reg. , Now sweet lord, 
+You know the goodness I intend upon you: 
+
+
+Tell me—but truly—but then speak the truth, 
+
+
+Do you not love my sister? 
+
+
+Edm. In honour'd love. 
+
+
+Reg. But have 
+
+
+brother's way 
+
+
+you never found my 
+10 
+
+
+1 | To the forfended place? 
+
+
+Edm. That thought abuses you. 
+Reg. 1 am doubtful that you have been 
+conjunct 
+And bosom'd with her, as far as we call hers. 
+Edm. No, by mine honour, madam. 
+Reg. I never shall endure her: dear my 
+lord, 
+Be not familiar with her. 
+Edm. Fear me not: 
+She and the duke her husband! 
+Enter, with drum and colours, ALBANY, 
+GoneErIL, and Soldiers. 
+
+
+Gon. [Aside] I had rather lose the battle 
+than that sister 
+Should loosen him and me. 
+Alb. Our very loving sister, well be-met. 20 
+Sir, this I hear; the king is come to his 
+daughter, 
+With others whom the rigour of our state 
+Forced to cry out. Where I could not be 
+honest, 
+I never yet was valiant: for this business, 
+It toucheth us, as France invades our land, 
+Not bolds the king, with others, whom I fear, 
+Most just and heavy causes make oppose. 
+Edm. Sir, you speak nobly. 
+Reg. Why is this reason’d? 
+Gon. Combine together ‘gainst the enemy; 
+For these domestic and particular broils 30 
+Are not the question here. 
+Alb. Let's then determine 
+With the ancient of war on our proceedings. 
+Edm. | shall attend you presently at your 
+
+
+tent. 
+
+Reg. Sister, you ‘Il go with us? 
+
+Gon. No. 
+
+Reg. “Tis most convenient; pray you, go 
+with us. 
+
+Gon. [Aside] O, ho, I know the riddle.— 
+I will go. 
+
+
+As they are going out, enter EDGAR disguised. 
+
+
+Edg. If e’er your grace had speech with | 
+man so poor, 
+Hear me one word. 
+Alb. I'll overtake you. Speak. 
+[Exeunt all but Albany and Edgar. 
+Edg. Before you fight the battle, ope this 
+letter. 40 
+If you have victory, let the trumpet sound 
+For him that brought it: wretched though | 
+seem, 
+I can produce a champion that will prove 
+What is vouched there. If you miscarry, 
+Your business of the world hath so an end, 
+And machination ceases, Fortune love you! 
+
+
+1088 
+
+
+KING LEAR 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. Ill 
+
+
+Alb. Stay till I have read the letter. 
+Edg. I was forbid it. 
+When time shall serve, let but the herald cry, 
+And I'll appear again. 
+Alb. Why, fare thee well: I will o’erlook 
+thy paper. [Exit Edgar. 50 
+
+
+Re-enter EDMUND. 
+
+
+Edm. The enemy ’s in view; draw up your 
+powers. 
+Here is the guess of their true strength and 
+forces 
+By diligent discovery; but your haste 
+Is now urged on you. 
+Alb. We will greet the time. [Exit. 
+Edm. To both these sisters have I sworn 
+my love; 
+Each jealous of the other, as the stung 
+Are of the adder. Which of them shall I 
+take? 
+Both? one? or neither? 
+joy'd, 
+If both remain alive: to take the widow 
+Exasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril; 60 
+And hardly shall I carry out my side, 
+Her husband being alive. Now then we'll 
+use 
+His countenance for the battle; which being 
+done, 
+Let her who would be rid of him devise 
+His speedy taking off. As for the mercy 
+Which he intends to Lear and to Cordelia, 
+The battle done, and they within our power, 
+Shall never see his pardon; tor my state 
+Stands on me to defend, not to debate, 69 
+[Exit. 
+
+
+Scene II. A field between the two camps. 
+
+
+Alarum within. Enter, with drum — and 
+colours, LEAR, CoRDELIA, and_ Soldiers, 
+over the stage; and exeunt. 
+
+
+Enter Epcar and GLOUCESTER. 
+Edg. Here, father, take the shadow of this 
+
+
+tree 
+For your good host; pray that the right may 
+‘ thrive: 
+If I ever I return to you again, 
+I'll bring you comfort. 
+
+
+Glou. Grace go with you, sir! 
+[Exit Edgar. 
+
+
+Re-enter Encar. 
+
+
+Neither can be en- 
+
+
+Alarum and retreat within. 
+
+
+Edg. Away, old man; give me thy hand; 
+away! 
+King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter 
+ta’en: 
+Give me thy hand; come on. 
+-Glou. No farther, sir; a man may rot even 
+here. 
+
+
+Edg. What, in ill thoughts again? Men 
+must endure 9 
+Their going hence, even as their coming hither: 
+Ripeness is all: come on, 
+Glou. And that’s true too, [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. The British camp near Dover. 
+
+
+Enter, in conquest, with drum. and colours, 
+EpmuNnD; Lear and CorRDELIA, prisoners; 
+Captains, Soldiers, &c, 
+
+Edm. Some officers take them away: good 
+guard, 
+
+Until their greater pleasure first be known 
+
+That are to censure them. 
+
+Cor. We are not the first © 
+
+Who, with best meaning, have  incurr’d the 
+
+worst. 
+
+For thee, oppressed king, am I cast down; 
+
+Myself could else out-frown false fortune’s 
+
+
+frown. 
+Shall we not see these daughters and these 
+sisters > 
+Lear. No, no, no, no! Come, let’s away 
+to prison: 
+
+
+We two alone will sing like birds i’ the cage: 
+
+When thou dost ask me blessing, I ‘Il kneel 
+down, 10 
+
+And ask of thee forgiveness: so we ‘Il live, 
+
+And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and 
+laugh 
+
+At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues 
+
+Talk of court news; and we'll talk with them 
+too, 
+
+Who loses and who wins; who’s in, who's 
+out; r 
+
+And take upon ’s the mystery of things, 
+
+As if we were God's spies: and we ‘ll wear 
+
+
+out, 
+In a wall'd prison, packs and sects of grea: 
+ones, 
+That ebb and flow by the moon. 
+Edm. Take them away. 
+
+
+Lear. Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia, 20 
+The gods themselves throw incense. Have I 
+caught thee? 
+He that parts us shall bring a brand from 
+heaven, 
+And fire us hence like foxes. Wipe thine 
+eyes; 
+The tua shall devour them, flesh and 
+ell, 
+Ere they shall make us weep: well see ‘em 
+starve first. 
+Come. [Exe nt Lear and Cordelia, guarded. 
+Edm. Cine hither, captain; hark. 
+Take thou this note [giving a paper]; go fol- 
+low em to prison: 
+
+
+One ster I have advanced thee; if thou dost 
+As this instructs thee, thou dost make thy way 
+
+
+aa 
+
+
+“Act, Sar = I) 
+
+
+- Does not become a sword: 
+
+
+¥ 
+
+
+> ee 
+
+
+KING 
+
+
+To noble astute: ‘know thou this, that men 
+Are as the time is: to be tender-minded 31 
+thy great employ- 
+
+
+uct ment: | 
+Will not bear question; either say thou ‘It 
+do 't, 
+Or thrive by other means. 
+| Capt. i I'll do’t, my lord. 
+Edm. About it; and write happy when 
+
+
+thou hast done. 
+Mark, I say, instantly; and carry it so 
+As I have set it down. 
+Capt. I cannot draw a cart, nor eat dried 
+oats; 
+If it be man’s work, I'll do it. [Exit. 
+Flourish. Enter ALBANY, GONERIL, REGAN, 
+another Captain, and Soldiers. 
+
+
+Alb. Sir, you have shown to-day your 
+valiant strain, 40 
+
+And fortune led you well: you have the cap- 
+tives 
+
+That were the opposites of this day’s strife: 
+
+We do require them of you, so to use them 
+
+As we shall find their merits and our safety 
+
+May equally determine. 
+
+Edm. Sir, I thought it fit 
+
+To send the old and miserable king 
+
+To some retention and appointed guard; 
+
+Whose age has charms in it, whose title more, 
+
+To pluck the common bosom on his side, 
+
+And turn our impress’d lances in our eyes 50 
+
+Which do command them. With him I sent 
+the queen; 
+
+My reason all the same; and they are ready 
+
+To-morrow, or at finer space, to appear 
+
+Where you shall hold your session. At this 
+time 
+
+We sweat and bleed: the friend hath lost his 
+friend; 
+
+And the best quarrels, in the heat are cursed 
+
+By those that feel their sharpness: 
+
+The question of Cordelia and her father 
+
+Requires a fitter place. 
+
+Alb, Sir, by your patience, 
+I hold you but'a subject of this war, 
+Not as a brother. 
+
+
+Reg. That ’s as we list to grace him. 
+
+Methinks our pleasure might have been de- 
+manded, 
+
+Ere you had spoke so far. He led our 
+powers; 
+
+
+Bore the commission of my place and person; 
+The which immediacy may well stand up, 
+And call itself your brother. 
+
+Gon. Not so hot: 
+In his own grace he doth exalt himself, 
+More than in your additiop- 
+
+
+LEAR 1089 
+
+
+Reg: In my rights, 
+By me mavested! he compeers the best. 
+Gon. That were the most, if he should 
+husband you. 70 
+Reg. Jesters do oft prove prophets. 
+Gon. Holla, holla! 
+That eye that told you so look’d but a-squint. 
+Reg. Lady, I am not well; else I should 
+answer 
+From a full flowing stomach. General, 
+Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony; 
+Dispose of them, of me; the walls are thine: 
+Witness the world, that'I create thee here 
+My lord and master. 
+Gon. Mean you to enjoy him? 
+Alb. The let-alone lies not not in your good 
+will. 
+
+
+Edm. Nor in thine, lord. 
+Alb. Half-blooded fellow, yes. 80 
+Reg. [To Edmund] Let the drum strike, 
+
+
+and prove my title thine. 
+Alb. Stay yet; hear reason. 
+arrest thee 
+On capital treason; and, in thine attaint, 
+This gilded serpent [pointing to Gon.]. 
+your claim, fair sister, 
+I bar it in the interest of my wife; 
+"Tis she is sub-contracted to this lord, 
+And I, her husband, contradict your bans. 
+If you will marry, make your loves to me, 
+My lady is bespoke. 
+on. An interlude! 
+Alb. Thou art arm’d, Gloucester: 
+trumpet sound: 
+If none appear to prove upon thy head 
+Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons, 
+There is my pledge [throwing down a glove]; 
+I'll prove it on thy heart, 
+Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less 
+Than I have here proclaim'd thee. 
+
+
+Edmund, I 
+
+
+For 
+
+
+let the 
+ity 
+
+
+Reg. Sick, O, sick! 
+
+Gon.. [Aside] If not, I'll ne’er trust med- 
+icine. y 
+
+Edm. There’s my exchange [throwing 
+
+
+down a glove]: what in the world he is 
+That names me traitor, villain-like he lies: 
+
+
+60 | Call by thy trumpet: he that dares approach, 
+
+
+On him, on you, who not? | will maintain 100 
+My truth and honour firmly. 
+Alb. A herald, ho! 
+Edm. A herald, ho, a herald! 
+Alb. Trust to thy single virtue; for thy 
+soldiers, 
+All levied in my name, have in my name 
+Took their discharge. 
+Reg, My sickness grows upon me. 
+Alb. She is not well; convey her to my 
+tent. [Exit Regan, led. 
+Enter a Herald. 
+
+
+1090 KING 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+LEAR 
+
+
+Come hither, herald,—Let the trumpet sound,— 
+And read out this. 
+
+Capt. Sound, trumpet! [A trumpet sounds. 
+
+Her, (Reads| ‘If any man of quality or 
+degree within the lists of the army will main- 
+tain upon Edmund, supposed Earl of Glou- 
+cester, that he is a manifold traitor, let him ap- 
+pear by the third sound of the trumpet: he 
+is bold in his defence,’ 
+
+idm. Sound! 
+
+Her. Again! 
+
+Her, Again\ 
+
+
+[First trumpet. 
+
+[Second trumpet. 
+
+[Third trumpet. 
+[Trumpet answers within. 
+
+
+Enter Encar, at the third sound, armed, 
+with a trumpet before him. 
+
+
+Alb, Ask him his purposes, why he appears 
+Upon this call o’ the trumpet. 
+
+
+Her, What are you? 119 
+Your name, your quality? and why you an- 
+ewer 
+This present summons ? 
+dg, Know, my name is lost; 
+
+
+By treagon's tooth bare-gnawn and canker-bit: 
+Yet am I noble as the adversary 
+I come to cope, 
+Alb. Which is that adversary ? 
+Edgy, What's he that speaks for Edmund 
+Iearl of Gloucester? 
+Edm. "imself: what say'st thou to him? 
+dg. Draw thy sword, 
+That, if my speech offend a noble heart, 
+Thy arm may do thee justice: here is mine, 
+Behold, it is the privilege of mine honours, 
+My oath, and my profession: I protest, 130 
+Maugre thy strength, youth, place, and emi- 
+nence, 
+Despite thy victor sword and fire-new fortune, 
+Thy valour and thy heart, thou art a traitor; 
+False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father; 
+Conspirant ‘gainst. this high-illustrious prince; 
+And, from the extvemest upward of thy head 
+To the descent and dust below thy foot, 
+A. most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou ‘No,’ 
+This sword, this arm, and my best spirits, are 
+bent 
+To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak, 140 
+thou. liest, 
+Edm. \n wisdom I should ask thy name; 
+But, since thy outside looks so fair and war- 
+like, 
+And that thy tongue some say of breeding 
+breathes, 
+What safe and nicely | might well delay 
+By rule of knighthood, | disdain and spurn: 
+Back do | toss these treasons to thy head; 
+With the hell-hated lie o'erwhelm thy heart; 
+Which, for they yet glance by and scarcely 
+bruise 
+
+
+This sword of mine shall give them instant 
+way, 
+Where they shall rest for ever, 
+speak! 
+[Alarums, They fight. 
+Alb. Save him, save him! 
+Gon. This is practice, Gloucester: 
+By the law of arms thou wast not bound to 
+answer 
+
+An unknown opposite; 
+quish'd, 
+
+But cozen’d and beguiled. 
+
+Alb. Shut your mouth, dame, 
+Or with this paper shall | stop it. Hold, sir; 
+Thou worse than any name, read thine own 
+
+evil: 
+No tearing, lady; I perceive you know it. 
+[Gives the letter to Edmund, 
+Con. Say, if I do, the laws are mine, not 
+
+
+Trumpets, 
+150 
+Edmund falls. 
+
+
+thou art not van- 
+
+
+thine: 
+Who can arraign me for ‘t? 
+Alb Most monstrous! oh! 
+
+
+Know’st thou this paper? 
+Gon. Ask me not what I know. [Exit. 
+Alb. Go after her: she's desperate; govern 
+her. i} 
+Edm. What you have charged me with, 
+that have | done; 
+And more, much more; the time will bring it 
+oul: 
+
+
+"Tis past, and so am I, But what art thou 
+
+
+That hast this fortune on me? If thou ‘rt 
+noble, 
+I do forgive thee. 
+Edg. Let's exchange charity. 
+
+
+I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund; 
+If more, the more thou hast wrong'd me. 
+My name is Edgar, and thy father’s son. 
+The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices 
+Make instruments to plague us: 
+The dark and vicious place where thee he got 
+Cost him his eyes. 
+Edm. Thou hast spoken right, ‘tis true; 
+The wheel is come full circle; I am here. 
+Alb, Methought thy very gait did prophesy 
+A royal nobleness: | must embrace thee: 
+Let sorrow split my heart, if ever I 
+Did hate thee or thy father! 
+Edg. Worthy prince, | know 't. 
+Alb. Where have you hid yourself? 
+How have you known the miseries of your 
+father ? 
+Edg. By nursing them, my lord. List a 
+brief tale; 
+And when ‘tis told, O, that my heart would 
+burst! 
+The bloody proclamation to escape, 
+That follow’'d me so near,—O, our lives’ 
+sweetness! 
+
+
+[Acr V, Sc, Ill 
+
+
+on; 
+You look as you had something more to say. 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. Ill] 
+
+
+That we the pain of death would hourly die 
+Rather than die at once!—taught me to shift 
+Into a madman’s rags; to assume a semblance 
+
+
+That very dogs disdain’d: and in this habit 
+
+
+~Met I my father with his bleeding rings, 
+
+
+Their precious stones new lost; became his 
+
+
+guide, 190 
+Led him, begg’d for him, saved him from de- 
+spair; 
+Never,—O fault!—reveal’d myself unto him, 
+Until some half-hour past, when I was arm’d: 
+Not sure, though hoping, of this good success, 
+I ask’d his blessing, and from first to last 
+Told him my pilgrimage: but his flaw’d heart, 
+Alack, too weak the conflict to support! 
+*Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief, 
+Burst smilingly. ‘ 
+Edm. This speech of yours hath moved me, 
+And shall perchance do good but speak you 
+2 
+
+
+Alb. If there be more, more woeful, hold 
+it in; 
+
+For I am almost ready to dissolve, 
+
+Hearing of this. 
+
+Edg. This would have seem’d a period 
+
+To such as love not sorrow; but another, 
+
+To amplify too much, would make much more, 
+
+And top extremity. 
+
+Whilst I was big in clamour came there in a 
+
+man, 
+
+Who, having seen me in my worst estate, 
+
+Shunn’d my abhorr'd society; but then, finding 
+
+Who ‘twas that so endured, with his strong 
+
+. arms 11 
+
+He fasten’d on my neck, and bellow’d out 
+
+As he'ld burst heaven; threw him on my 
+
+father; 
+
+Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him 
+
+That ever ear received: which in recounting 
+
+His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life 
+
+Began to crack: twice then the trumpets 
+
+sounded, 
+
+And there I left him tranced. 
+Alb. But who was this? 
+Edg. Kent, sir, the banish’d Kent; who in 
+
+disguise 
+
+Follow'd his enemy king, and did him service 
+
+Improper for a slave. 221 
+
+
+Enter a Gentleman, with a bloody knife. 
+
+
+Gent. Help, help, O, help! 
+
+Eds. What kind of help? 
+Alb. Speak, man. 
+Edg. What means that bloody knife? 
+Gent. ‘Tis hot, it smokes; 
+
+It came even from the heart of—O, she’s 
+
+dead! 
+
+
+KING LEAR 
+
+
+1091 
+
+
+en nee TE UUUtttttttEStdEEE aS 
+
+
+Alb. Who dead? speak, man. 
+Gent. Your lady, sir, your lady: and her 
+sister 
+By her is poisoned! she hath confess'd it, 
+Edm. | was contracted to them both: all 
+three 
+Now marry in an instant. 
+cdg. Here comes Kent. 
+Alb. Produce their bodies, be they alive or 
+dead: 230 
+This judgement of the heavens, that makes us 
+tremble, 
+
+
+| Touches us not with pity. [Exit Gentleman. 
+
+
+Enter Kent. 
+O, is this he? 
+
+
+The time will not allow the compliment 
+Which very manners urges. 
+Kent. 
+
+
+am come 
+
+
+00 | To bid my king and master aye good night: 
+
+
+Is he not here? 
+Alb. Great thing of us forgot! 
+Speak, Edmund, where’s the king? 
+where 's Cordelia? 
+See’st thou this object, Kent? 
+[The bodies of Goneril and Regan are 
+brought in. 
+
+
+and 
+
+
+Kent. Alack, why thus? 
+
+Edm. Yet Edmund was beloved: 
+The one the other poison’d for my sake, 240 
+And after slew herself. 
+
+Alb. Even so. Cover their faces. j 
+. I pant for life: some good | mea 
+
+to do, 
+Despite of mine own nature. Quickly send, 
+Be brief in it, to the castle; for my writ 
+Is on the life of Lear and on Cordelia: 
+Nay, send in time. 
+Alb. Run, run, O, run! 
+Edg. To who, my lord? Who hath the 
+office? send 
+Thv token of reprieve. 
+
+Edm. Well thought on: take my sword, 250 
+Give it the captain. 
+
+Alb. Haste thee, for thy life. [Exit Edgar. 
+
+Edm. He hath commission from thy wife 
+
+and me 
+To hang Cordelia in the prison, and 
+To lay the blame upon her own despair, 
+That she forbid herself. 
+
+Alb. The gods defend her! Bear him 
+
+hence awhile. [Edmund is borne off. 
+
+
+Re-enter LEAR, with CorDELIA dead in his 
+arms; Epcar, Captain, and others following. 
+Lear. Howl. howl, howl, howl! 
+are men of stones: 
+Had I your tongues and eyes, I'Id use them 
+so 
+
+
+O, you 
+
+
+1092 
+
+
+KING LEAR 
+
+
+[Acr V, Sc, III 
+
+
+That heaven's vault should crack. She ’s gone 
+for ever! 259 
+I know when one is dead, and when one lives; 
+She ’s'dead as earth. Lend me a looking- 
+glass; 
+If that her breath will mist or stain the stone, 
+Why, then she lives. 
+Kent, Is this the promised end? 
+Edg.. Or image of that horror ? 
+
+
+Alb. Fall, and cease! 
+Lear. This feather stirs; she lives! if it 
+be so, 
+
+
+It is a chance which does redeem all sorrows 
+
+
+That ever I have felt. 
+
+
+Kent. [Kneeling] O my good master! 
+Lear. Prithee, away. 
+Edg. ‘Tis noble Kent, your friend. 
+Lear. A plague upon you, murderers, trai- 
+tors all! 
+I might have saved her; now she’s gone for 
+ever! 270 
+
+
+Cordelia, Cordelia! stay a little. Ha! 
+What ist thou say’st? Her voice was ever 
+soft, 
+Gentle, and low, an excellent thing in woman. 
+I kill’d the slave that was a-hanging thee. 
+‘Tis true, my lords, he did. 
+Did I not, fellow? 
+J have. seen the day, with my good biting 
+falchion 
+I would have made them skip: I am old now, 
+
+
+And these same crosses spoil me. Who are | 
+you? 
+Mine eyes are not o' the best: I'll tell you 
+straight. 
+Kent. If fortune brag of two she loved and 
+
+
+hated, 280 
+
+
+One of them we behold. 
+
+
+Lear. This is a dull sight. Are you not 
+Kent? 
+Kent. The same, 
+Your servant Kent. Where is your servant 
+Caius? 
+Lear. He's a good fellow, I can tell you 
+that; 
+He ’ll sifke, and quickly too: he’s dead and 
+rotten. 
+Kent. No, my good lord; I am the very 
+man,— 
+Lear. I'll see that stvaigbt 
+Kent. That, from your first of difference 
+
+
+and decay, 
+Have follow'd your sad steps. 
+Lear, You are welcome hither. 
+Kent. Nor no man else: all’s cheerless, 
+dark, and deadly. 290 
+Your eldest daughters have fordone them- 
+selves, 
+
+
+And desperately are dead. 
+Lear. Ay, so I think. 
+
+
+Alb. He knows not what he says: and 
+vain it is 
+That we present us to him. 
+Edg, Very bootless. 
+
+
+Enter a Captain, 
+
+
+Capt. Edmund is dead, my lord. 
+Alb. That's but a trifle here, 
+You lords and noble friends, know our in; 
+tent. 
+
+
+What comfort to this great decay may come 
+
+
+Shall be applied: for us, we will resign, 
+
+During the life of this old majesty, 
+
+To him our absolute power: [To Edgar and 
+Kent] you, to your rights; 300 
+
+With boot, and such addition as your honours 
+
+Have more than merited. All friends shall 
+taste 
+
+The wages of their virtue, and all foes 
+
+The cup of their deservings. O, see, see! 
+
+Lear. And my poor fool is hang’ d! 
+
+no, no life! 
+
+Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, 
+
+And thou no breath at all? Thou ‘It come na 
+more, 
+
+Never, never, never, never, never! 
+
+Pray you, undo this button: thank you, sir, — 
+
+Do you see this? Look on her, look, her 
+
+
+No, 
+
+
+lips, 
+
+Look there, look there! [Dies, 
+Edg. He faints! My lord, my lord! 
+Kent. Breaks heart; | prithee, beetl 
+Edg. Look up, my lord. 
+Kent. Vex not his ghost: O, let him pass! 
+
+
+he hates him much 
+That would upon the rack of this tough world 
+Stretch him out longer. 
+
+
+Edg. He is gone, indeed, 
+Kent.. The wonder is, he hath endured so 
+long: 
+
+
+He but usurp’d his life. 
+Alb. Bear them from hence. 
+business 
+Is general woe. 
+
+
+Our present 
+
+
+[To Kent and Edgar Friends 
+
+
+of my soul, you twain 319. 
+
+
+Rule in this realm, and the gored state sustain, 
+Kent. I have a journey, sir, shortly to go; 
+My master calls me, I must not say no. 
+Alb. The weight of this sad time we must 
+obey; 
+Spark aed we feel, not what we ought to 
+
+
+The Riise hath borne most: we that are xoihe 
+Shall never see so-much, nor live so long, 
+[Exeunt, with a dead march 
+
+
+§ 
+4 
+3 
+ry 
+: 
+4 
+: 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+THE MOOR 
+
+
+DRAMATIS 
+
+
+Duke oF VENICE. 
+
+BRABANTIO, a senator. 
+
+Other Senators. 
+
+GratTIANo, brother to Brabantio. 
+
+Lopovico, kinsman to Brabantio. 
+
+OTHELLO, a noble Moor in the service of 
+the Venetian state. 
+
+Cassio, his lieutenant. 
+
+Iaco, his ancient. 
+
+Roperico, a Venetian gentleman. 
+
+
+ACT 1. 
+
+
+Scene I. Venice. A street. 
+Enter Roperico and Iaco. 
+
+
+Rod. Tush! never tell me; I take it much 
+unkindly 
+That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse 
+As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of 
+_, this. 
+_ Iago, ‘Sblood, but you will not hear me: 
+If ever I did dream of such a matter, 
+Abhor me. 
+Rod. Thou told’st me thou didst hold him 
+in thy hate. 
+Tago. Despise me, if I do not. Three 
+great ones of the city, 
+In personal suit to make me his lieutenant, 
+Off-capp’d to him: and, by the faith of man, 
+I know my price, 1 am worth no worse a place: 
+But he, as loving his own pride and purposes, 
+Evades them, with a bombast circumstance 
+Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war; 
+And, in conclusion, ‘ 
+Nonsuits. my mediators; for, ‘Certes,’ says he, 
+‘I have already chose my officer.’ 
+
+
+‘And what was he? 
+
+
+Forsooth, a-great. arithmetician, 
+
+
+One Michael Cassio, a Florentine, 20 
++ A fellow almost damn’d in a fair wife; 
+That never set a squadron in the field, 
+
+Nor the division of a battle knows 
+
+More than a spinster; unless the bookish 
+
+
+theoric, 
+
+Wherein the toged consuls can propose 
+
+As masterly as he: mere prattle, without 
+practice, 
+
+
+OF VENICE 
+PERSON£.., 
+
+
+Montano, Othello’s predecessor in the 
+government of Cyprus. 
+
+Clown, servant to Othello. 
+
+DeEspEmona, daughter to Brabantio and 
+‘wife to Othello. 
+
+Emitia, wife to Iago. 
+
+Bianca, mistress to Cassio. 
+
+Sailor, Messenger, Herald, Officers, Gentle- 
+men, Musicians, and Attendants. 
+
+Scene: Venice: a Sea-port in Cyprus. 
+
+
+Is all his soldiership. 
+election: 
+And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proof 
+At Rhodes, at Cyprus and on other grounds 
+Christian and heathen, must be be-lee’d and 
+calm’d even 1!) 
+By debitor and creditor: this counter-caster, 
+He, in good time, must his lieutenant be, 
+And I—God bless the mark!—his Moorship’s 
+ancient, 
+Rod. By heaven, I rather would have been 
+his hangman. 
+Tago. Why, there’s no remedy;:."tis the 
+curse of service, 
+Preferment goes by letter and affection, 
+And not by old gradation, where each second 
+Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge 
+yourself, 
+Whether I in any just term am affined 
+To love the Moor. 
+Rod. I would not follow him then. 40 
+Tago. O, sir, content you; 
+I follow him to serve my turn upon him: 
+We cannot all be masters, nor all masters 
+Cannot be truly follow’d. You shall mark 
+Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave, 
+That, ‘doting on his own obsequious bondage, 
+Wears out his time, much like his master’s 
+ass, 
+For nought but provender, and when he’s old, 
+cashier’d: 
+Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are 
+Who, trimm’d in forms and visages of duty, 
+
+
+But he, sir, had the 
+
+
+‘Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves, 
+
+
+And, throwing but shews of service on their 
+
+
+lords, 
+
+
+1093 
+
+
+1094 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+[Act I, Sc. I 
+
+
+Do well thrive by them and when they have 
+lined their coats 
+
+Do themselves homage: these fellows have 
+some soul; 
+
+And such a one do I profess myself. For, sir, 
+
+It is as sure as you are Roderigo, 
+
+Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago: 
+
+In following him, I follow but myself; 
+
+Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty, 
+
+But seeming so, for my peculiar end: 60 
+
+For when my outward action doth demonstrate 
+
+The native act and figure of my heart 
+
+In compliment extern, ‘tis not long after 
+
+But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve 
+
+For daws to peck at: I am not what I am. 
+
+
+Rod. What a full fortune does the thick- 
+
+
+lips owe, 
+If he can carry 't thus! 
+Tago. Call up her father, 
+
+
+Rouse him: make after him, poison his delight, 
+
+Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kins- 
+men, 
+
+And, though he in a fertile climate dwell, 70 
+
+Plague him with flies: though that his joy be 
+
+
+Joy, 
+Yet throw such changes of vexation on't, 
+As it may lose some colour. 
+Rod. Here is her father’s house; I'll call 
+aloud. 
+Tago. Do, with like timorous accent and 
+dire yell 
+As when, by night and negligence, the fire 
+Is spied in populous cities. 
+Rod. What, ho, Brabantio! 
+bantio, ho! 
+lago. Awake! what, ho, Brabantio! thieves! 
+thieves! thieves! 
+Look to your house, your daughter and your 
+bags!” 
+Thieves! thieves! 
+
+
+Signior Bra- 
+
+
+BRABANTIO appears above, at a window. 
+
+
+Bra. What is the reason of this terrible 
+summons ? 
+What is the matter there? 
+Rod. Signior, is all your family within? 
+Tago. Are your doors lock’d? 
+Bra. Why, wherefore ask you this? 
+Tago. "Zounds, sir, you're robb'd; for 
+shame, put on your gown; 
+Your heart is burst, you have lost half your 
+soul ; 
+Even now, now, very now, an old black ram 
+Is tupping your white ewe. Arise, arise; 
+Awake the snort'ng citizens with the bell, 90 
+Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you: 
+Arise, I say. 
+Bra. What, have you lost your wits? 
+
+
+Rod. Most reverend signior, do you know 
+my voice? 
+
+
+Bra. Not I: what are you? 
+Rod, My name is Roderigo. 
+Bra. The worser welcome: 
+
+
+I have charged thee not to haunt about my 
+doors: 
+In honest plainness thou hast heard me say 
+My daughter is not for thee; and now, in 
+madness, 
+Being full of supper and distempering draughts, 
+Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come 100 
+To start my quiet. 
+Rod. Sir, sir, sir,— 
+Bra. But thou must needs be sure 
+My spirit and my place have in them power 
+To make this bitter to thee. 
+
+
+Rod. Patience, good sir. 
+Bra. What tell’st thou me of robbing? this 
+is Venice; 
+My house is not a grange. 
+Rod. ‘Most grave Brabantio, 
+
+
+In simple and pure soul I come to you. 
+Tago. ‘Zounds, sir, you are one of those that 
+will not serve God, if the devil bid you. 
+Because we come to do you service and you 
+think we are ruffians, you ‘ll have your daugh- 
+ter covered with a Barbary horse; you'll have 
+your nephews neigh to you; you'll have 
+coursers for cousins and gennets for germans. 
+Bra, What profane wretch art thou? 
+
+
+Iago. I am one, sir, that comes to tell you 
+
+
+your daughter and the Moor are now making 
+the beast with.two backs. 
+Bra. Thou art a villain. 
+Tago. You are—a senator. 
+Bra. This thou shalt answer; I know thee, 
+Roderigo. 120 
+Rod. Sir, I will answer any thing. But, I 
+beseech you, 
+If t be your pleasure and most wise consent, 
+As partly I find it is, that your fair daughter, 
+At this odd-even and dull watch o’ the night, 
+Transported, with no worse nor better guard 
+But with a knave of common hire, a gondolier, 
+To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor,— 
+If this be known to you and your allowance, 
+We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs; 
+But if you know not this, my manners tell me 
+We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe 
+That, from the sense of all civility, 
+I thus would play and trifle with your reverence: 
+Your daughter, if you have not given her leave, 
+I say again, hath made a gross revolt; 
+Tying her duty, beauty, wit and fortunes 
+In an extravagant and wheeling stranger 
+Of here and every where. Straight satisfy 
+yourself : 
+If she be in her chamber or your hause, 
+
+
+Act I, Sc. I] 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+1095 
+
+
+Let loose on me the justice of the state 140 
+For thus deluding you. 
+
+Bra. Strike on the tinder, ho! 
+Give me a taper! call up all my people! 
+This acc.dent is not unlike my dream: 
+Belief of it oppresses me already. 
+
+Light, I say! light! [Exit above. 
+lago. Farewell; for I must leave you: 
+
+It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place, 
+
+To be produced—as, if I stay, I shall— 
+
+Against the Moor: for, 1 do know, the state, 
+
+However this may gall him with some check, 
+
+Cannot with safety cast him, for he’s embark’d 
+
+With such loud reason to the Cyprus wars, 151 
+
+Which even now stand in act, that, for their 
+
+souls, 
+
+Another of his fathom they have none, 
+
+To lead their business: in which regard, 
+
+Though I do hate him as I do hell-pains, 
+
+Yet, for necessity of present life, 
+
+1 must show out a flag and sign of love, 
+
+Which is indeed but sign. That you shall 
+
+surely find him, 
+Lead to the Sagittary the raised search; 
+And there wil I be with him. So, farewell. 
+[Exit. 
+
+
+Enter, below, BRABANTIO, and Servants with 
+torches. 
+
+
+Bra. It is too true an evil: gone she is; 
+And what’s to come of my despised time 
+Is nought but bitterness. Now, Roderigo, 
+Where didst thou see her? O unhappy girl! 
+
+
+With the Moor, say’st thou> Who would 
+be a father! 
+How didst thou know ‘twas she? O, she de- 
+
+
+ceives me 
+Past thought! What said she to you? 
+more tapers: 
+Raise all my_ kindred. 
+think you? 
+Rod. Truly, I think they are. 
+Bra. O heaven! How got she out? O 
+treason of the blood! 170 
+Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters’ 
+minds . 
+By what you see them act. Is there not charms 
+By which the property of youth and maidhood 
+May be abused? Have you not read, Rod- 
+erigo, 
+Of some such thing? 
+Yes, sir, I have indeed. 
+brother. O, would you 
+
+
+Get 
+
+
+Are they married, 
+
+
+Rod. 
+Bra. Call up my 
+had had her! 
+Some one way, some another. Do you know 
+Where we may apprehend her and the Moor? 
+
+
+Rod, 1 think I can discover him, if you |- 
+
+
+please 
+To get good guard and go along with me. 180 
+
+
+Bra. Pray you, lead on. 
+I'll call; 
+I may command at most. Get weapons, ho! 
+And raise some special officers of night. 
+On, good Roderigo: I'll deserve your pains. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+At every house 
+
+
+Scene II. Another street. 
+
+
+Enter OTHELLO, Iaco, and Attendants 
+with torches. 
+
+
+Tago. Though in the trade of war I have 
+slain men, 
+Yet do I hold it very stuff o’ the conscience 
+To do no contrived murder: I lack iniquity 
+Sometimes to do me service: nine or ten times 
+1 had thought to have yerk’d him here under 
+the ribs. 
+
+Oth. "Tis better as it is. 
+
+Tago. Nay, but he prated, 
+And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms 
+Against your honour 
+That, with the little godliness I have, 
+
+I did full hard forbear him. But, I pray 
+you, sir, 10 
+
+Are you fast married? Be assured of this, 
+
+That the magnifico is much beloved, 
+
+And hath in his effect voice potential 
+
+As double as the duke’s: he will divorce you; 
+
+Or put upon you what restraint and grievance 
+
+The law, with all his might to enforce it on, 
+
+W ll give him cable. 
+
+Oth. Let him do his spite; 
+My services which I have done the signiory 
+
+
+Shall out-tongue his complaints. "Tis yet to 
+know, — 
+
+Which, when I know that boasting is an 
+honour, 20: 
+
+
+I shall promulgate—I fetch my life and being 
+From men of royal siege, and my demerits 
+May speak unbonneted to as proud a fortune 
+As this that I have reach'd: for know, lago, 
+But that I love the gentle Desdemona, 
+I would not my unhoused free condition 
+Put into circumscription and confine 
+For the sea’s worth. But, look! what lights 
+come yond? 
+Iago. Those are the raised father and his 
+
+
+friends: 
+You were best go in. 
+Oth, Not I; I must be found: 30: 
+
+
+My parts, my title and my perfect soul 
+Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they? 
+Iago. By Janus, I think no. 
+
+
+Enter Cassio, and certain Offic rs with 
+torches. 
+Oth, The servants of the duke, and my 
+lieutenant. 
+The goodness of the night upon you, friends! 
+
+
+1096 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. Ill 
+
+
+What is the news? 
+Cas. The duke does greet you, general, 
+And he requires your haste-post-haste appear- 
+ance, 
+Even on the instant. 
+Oth. What is the matter, think you? 
+Cas. Something from Cyprus, as I may 
+divine: 
+It is a business of some heat: the galleys 40 
+Have sent a dozen sequent messengers 
+This very night at one another's heels, 
+And many of the consuls raised and met, 
+Are at the duke’s already: you have been 
+hotly call’d for; 
+When, being not at your lodging to be found, 
+The senate hath sent about three several quests 
+To search you out. 
+Oth. ‘Tis well I am found by you. 
+I will but spend a word here in the house, 
+And go with you. [Exit. 
+Cas. Ancient, what makes he here ? 
+Iago. "Faith, he to-night hath boarded a 
+land carack: 
+If it prove lawful prize, he's made for ever. 
+
+
+Cas. I do not understand. 
+lago. He's married. 
+Cas, To who? 
+
+
+Re-enter OTHELLO. 
+
+
+Iago. Marry, to—Come, captain, will you 
+go? 
+
+Oth. Have with you. 
+
+Cas. Here comes another troop to seek for 
+you. 
+
+Iago. It is Brabantio. 
+vised ; 
+
+He comes to bad intent. 
+
+
+General, be ad- 
+
+
+Enter Brasantio, Roperico, and Officers 
+with torches and. weapons. 
+
+
+Oth. Holla! stand there! 
+Rod. Signior, it is the Moor. 
+Bra, Down with hin, thief! 
+[They draw on both sides. 
+Tago. You, Roderigo! come, sir, I am for 
+you. 
+Oth. Keep up your bright swords, for the 
+dew will rust them. 
+Good signior, you shall more command with 
+years 60 
+Than with your weapons, 
+Bra. O thou foul thief, where hast thou 
+stow’« my daughter ? 
+Damn'd _ s thou art, thou hast enchanted her; 
+For I'll refer me to all things of sense, 
+If she ir chains of magic were not bound, 
+Whether a mad so tender, fair and happy, 
+So opposite to marriage that she shunn'd 
+The wealthy curled darlings of our nation, 
+
+
+Would ever have, to incur a general mock, 
+
+Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom 70 
+
+Of such a thing as thou, to fear, not to delight. 
+
+Judge me the world, if ‘tis not gross in sense 
+
+That thou hast practised on’ her with foul 
+charms, 
+
+Abused her delicate youth with drugs or 
+
+
+minerals 
+
+
+That weaken motion: I ‘Il have ’t disputed on; - 
+
+
+"Tis probable and palpable to thinking. 
+
+I therefore apprehend and do attach thee 
+For an abuser of the world, a practiser 
+Of arts inhibited and out of warrant. 
+Lay hold upon him: if he do resist, 
+Subdue him at his peril. 
+
+Oth. Hold your hands, 
+Both you of my inclining, and the rest: 
+Were it my cue to fight, | should have known it 
+Without a prompter. Where will you that I go 
+To answer this your charge? 
+
+Bra. To prison, till fit time 
+Of law and ‘course of direct session 
+Call thee to answer. 
+
+Oih. What if I do obey? 
+How may the duke be therewith satisfied, 
+Whose messengers are here about my side, 
+Upon some present business of the state 
+To bring me to him? 
+
+First Of. "Tis true, most worthy signior; 
+The duke 's in council, and your noble self, 
+
+I am sure, is sent for. 
+
+Bra. How! the duke in council! 
+In this time of the might! Bring him away: 
+Mine's nat an idle cause: the duke himself, 
+Or any of my brothers of the state, 
+
+Cannot but feel this wrong as "twere their own; 
+For if such actions may have passage free, 
+Bond-slaves and pagans shall our statesmen 
+
+
+80 
+
+
+90 
+
+
+be. | [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. 
+
+
+The Duxe and Senators sitling at a table; 
+Officers atiending. 
+
+
+A council-chamber. 
+
+
+Duke. There is no composition in these news 
+That gives them credit. 
+First Sen. Indeed, they are disproportion'’d; 
+My letters say a hundred and seven galleys, 
+Duke. And mine, a hundred and forty. 
+Sec. Sen. And mine, two hundred: 
+But though they jump not on a just account,— 
+As in these cases, where the aim reports, 
+"Tis oft with difference—yet do they all confirm 
+A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus. 
+Duke. Nay, it is possible enough to judge~ 
+ment: 
+I do not so secure me in the error, 10 
+But the main articles | do approve 
+In fearful sense. 
+
+
+“Cee 28 
+
+
+<I ho See 
+
+
+Act I, Sc, Hl] 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+1097 
+Sailor. [Within] What, ho! what, ho! | Against the general enemy Ottoman. 
+what, ho! [To Brabantio] I did not see you; welcome, 
+
+
+First Of. A messenger from the galleys. 
+Enter a Sailor. 
+
+
+Duke. Now, what's the business? 
+Sail. The Turkish preparation makes for 
+Rhodes; 
+So was I bid report here to the state 
+By Signior Angelo. 
+Duke. How say you by this change? 
+First Sen. This cannot be, 
+By no assay of reason: ‘tis a pageant, 
+To keep us in false gaze. When we consider 
+The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk, 20 
+And let ourselves again but understand, 
+That as it more concerns the Turk 
+Rhodes, 
+So may he with more facile question bear it, 
+For that it stands not in such warlike brace, 
+But altogether lacks the abilities 
+
+
+than 
+
+
+“That Rhodes is dress'd in: if we make thought 
+
+
+of this, 
+We must not think the Turk is so unskilful 
+To leave that latest which concerns him first, 
+Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain, 
+To wake and wage a danger profitless. 30 
+Duke. Nay, in all confidence, he’s not for 
+Rhodes. 
+First Off. Here is more news. 
+Enter a Messenger. 
+Mess. The Ottomites, reverend and gra- 
+cious, i 
+Steering with due course towards the isle of 
+Rhodes, 
+Have there injointed them with an after fleet. 
+First Sen. Ay, so I thought. How many, 
+as you guess? 
+
+
+Mess. Of thirty sail: and now they do 
+re-stem 
+Their backward course, bearing with frank 
+appearance 
+Their purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Mon- 
+_ tano, 
+Your trusty and most valiant servitor, 40 
+
+
+With his free duty recommends you thus, 
+And prays you to believe him. P 
+Duke. "Tis certain, then, for Cyprus. 
+arcus Luccicos, is not he in town? 
+First Sen. He's now in Florence. 
+Duke. Write from us to him; post-post- 
+haste dispatch. 
+First. Sen. Here comes Brabantio and the 
+valiant Moor. 
+
+
+Enter Brasantio, OTHELLO, Iaco, RopERIco, 
+and Officers. 
+
+
+Duke. Valiant Othello, we must. straight 
+employ you 
+
+
+gentle signior; 50 
+We lack’d your counsel and your help to- 
+night. 
+
+
+Bem So did I yours. 
+pardon me; 
+Neither my place nor aught I heard of business 
+Hath raised me from my bed, nor doth the 
+general care 
+Take hold on me, for my particular grief 
+Is of so flood-gate and o’erbearing nature 
+That it engluts and swallows other sorrows 
+And it is still itself. 
+Duke. Why, what's the matter > 
+Bra. My daughter! O, my daughter! 
+Duke and Sen. Dead? 
+Bra. Ay, tome; 
+She is abused, stol’n from me, and corrupted 
+By spells and medicines bought of mounte- 
+banks; 
+For nature so preposterously to err, 
+Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense, 
+Sans witchcraft could not. 
+Duke. Whoe’er he be that in this foul pro- 
+ceeding 
+Hath thus beguiled your daughter of herself 
+And you of her, the bloody book of law 
+You shall yourself read in the bitter letter 
+After your own sense, yea, though our proper 
+son 
+Stood in your action. 
+Bra. Humbly I thank your grace. 70 
+Here is the man, this Moor, whom now, it 
+seems, 
+Your special mandate for the state-affairs 
+Hath hither brought. 
+Duke and Sen. “We are very sorry for ’t. 
+Duke. [To Othello]) What, in your own 
+part, can you say to this? 
+Bra. Nothing, but this is so. 
+Oth. Most potent, grave, 
+signiors, 
+My very noble and approved good masters, 
+That | have ta’en away this old man’s daughter, 
+It is most true; true, I have married her: 
+The very head and front of my offending 80 
+
+
+Good your grace, 
+
+
+and 
+
+
+reverend 
+
+
+Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in 
+my speech, 
+
+And little bless'd with the soft phrase of 
+peace; 
+
+For since these arms of mine had seven 
+years’ pith, 
+
+Till now some nine moons wasted, they have 
+used 
+
+
+Their dearest action in the tented field, 
+
+And little of this great world can I speak, 
+More than pertains-to feats of broil and battle, 
+And therefore little shall I grace my cause 
+
+
+1098 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+[Act I, Se. Il 
+
+
+In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gra- 
+cious patience, 
+
+I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver 90 
+
+Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what 
+charms, 
+
+What conjuration and what mighty magic, 
+
+For such proceeding I am charged withal, 
+
+I won his daughter. 
+
+Bra. A maiden never bold; 
+
+Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion 
+
+Blush'd at herself; and she, in spite of nature, 
+
+Of years, of country, credit, every thing, 
+
+To fall in love with what she fear'd to look 
+on! 
+
+It is a judgement maim'd and most imperfect 
+
+That will confess perfection so could err 100 
+
+Against all rules of nature, and must be driven 
+
+To find out practices of cunning hell, 
+
+Why this should be. I therefore vouch again 
+
+That with some mixtures powerful o'er the 
+blood, 
+
+Or with some dram conjured to this effect, 
+
+He wrought upon her. 
+
+Duke. To vouch this, is no proof, 
+Without more wider and more overt test 
+Than these thin habits and poor likelihoods 
+Of modern seeming do prefer against him. 
+
+First Sen. But, Othello, speak: 110 
+Did you by indirect and forced courses 
+Subdue and poison this young maid's affec- 
+
+tions ? 
+Or came it by request and such fair question 
+As soul to soul affordeth? 
+
+Oth. I do beseech you, 
+
+Send for the lady to the Sagittary, 
+And let her speak of me before her father: 
+If you do find me foul in her report, 
+The trust, the office I do hold of you, 
+Not only take away, but let your sentence 
+Even fall upon my life. 
+Duke. Fetch Desdemona hither. 120 
+Oth. Ancient, conduct them; you best know 
+the place. [Exeunt Iago and Attendants. 
+And, till she come, as truly as to heaven 
+I do confess the vices of my blood, 
+So justly to your grave ears I'll present 
+How I did thrive in this fair lady's love, 
+And she in mine. 
+
+Duke. Say it, Othello. 
+
+Oth. Her father loved me; oft invited me; 
+Still question’d me the story of my life, 
+From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes, 
+That I have pass’d. 131 
+I ran it through, even from my boyish days, 
+To the very moment that he bade me tell it; 
+Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances, 
+Of moving accidents by flood and field, 
+
+Of hair-breadth scapes i’ the imminent deadly 
+breach. 
+
+
+Of being taken by the insolent foe 
+And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence 
+And portance in my travels’ history: 
+Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle, 140 
+Rough quarries, rocks and hills whose heads 
+touch heaven, 
+It was my hint to speak,—such was the pro- 
+cess; 
+And of the Cannibals thai each other eat, 
+The Anthropophagi and men whose heads 
+Do grow beneath their shoulders. This to hear 
+Would Desdemona seriously incline: 
+But still the house-affairs would draw her 
+thence: 
+Which ever as she could with haste dispatch, 
+She ‘Id come again, and with a greedy ear 
+Devour up my discourse: which I observing, 
+Took once a pliant hour, and found good 
+means 
+To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart 
+That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, 
+Whereof by parcels she had something heard, 
+But not intentively: I did consent, 
+And often did beguile her of her tears, 
+When I did speak of some distressful stroke 
+That my youth suffer'd. My story being done, 
+She gave me for my pains a world of sighs: 
+She swore, in faith, ‘twas strange, ‘twas pass- 
+ing strange, 160 
+‘Twas pitiful, "twas wondrous pitiful: 
+She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd 
+That heaven had made her such a man: she 
+thank’d me, 
+And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, 
+I should but teach him how to tell my story, 
+And that would woo her. Upon this hint I 
+spake: 
+She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd, 
+And I loved her that she did pity them. 
+This only is the witchcraft I have used: 
+Here comes the lady; let her witness it. 
+
+
+170 
+Enter DespEmMoNA, Jaco, and Attendants, 
+
+
+Duke. I think this tale would win my 
+
+
+daughter too. 
+Good Brabantio, 
+Take up this mangled matter at the best: 
+Men do their broken weapons rather use 
+Than their bare hands. 
+
+Bra. I pray you, hear her speak: 
+If she confess that she was half the wooer, 
+Destruction on my head, if my bad blame 
+Light on the man! Come hither, gentle mis- 
+
+tress: 
+Do you perceive in all this noble company 
+Where most you owe. obedience? 
+Des. My noble father, 
+I do perceive here a divided duty: 
+To you I am bound for life and education; 
+
+
+180 
+
+
+er 
+
+
+Act I, Sc. II] 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+1099 
+
+
+My life and education both do learn me 
+
+How to respect you; you are the lord of duty; 
+
+I am hitherto your daughter: but here’s my 
+husband, 
+
+And so much duty as my mother show'd 
+
+To you, preferring you before her father, 
+
+So much | challenge that | may profess 
+
+Due to the Moor my lord. 
+
+Bra. God be wi’ you! I have done. 
+Please it your grace, on to the state-affairs: 
+I had rather to adopt a child than get it. 
+Come hither, Moor: 
+
+I here do give thee that with all my heart 
+
+Which, but thou hast already, with all my 
+heart 
+
+I would keep from thee, For your sake, jewel, 
+
+I am glad at soul I have no other child; 
+
+For thy escape would teach me tyranny, 
+
+To hang clogs on them. I have done, my 
+lord. 
+
+Duke. Let me speak like yourself, and lay 
+
+a sentence, 
+Which, as a grise or step, may help these 
+lovers 
+Into your favour. 201 
+When remedies are past, the griefs are ended 
+By seeing the worst, which late on hopes de- 
+pended. 
+To mourn a mischief that is past and gone 
+Is the next way to draw new mischief on. 
+What cannot be preserved when fortune takes 
+Patience her injury a mockery makes. 
+
+
+The robb’d that smiles steals something from 
+
+
+the thief; 
+He robs himself that spends a bootless grief. 
+Bra. So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile; 
+We lose it not, so long as we can smile. 211 
+He bears the sentence well that nothing bears 
+But the free comfort which from thence he 
+hears, 
+But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow 
+That, to pay grief, must of poor patience bor- 
+row. 
+These sentences, to sugar, or to gall, 
+Being strong on both sides, are equivocal: 
+But words are words; I never yet did hear 
+That the bruised heart was pierced through 
+the ear. 
+I humbly beseech you, proceed to the affairs 
+of state. . 220 
+Duke. The Turk with a most mighty 
+preparation makes for Cyprus. Othello, the 
+fortitude of the place is best known to you; 
+and though we have there a substitute of most 
+allowed sufficiency, yet opinion, a sovereign 
+mistress of effects, throws a more safer voice 
+on you: you must therefore be content to 
+slubber' the gloss of your new fortunes with 
+this more stubborn and boisterous expedition. 
+
+
+Oth. The tyrant custom, most grave senators, 
+
+Hath made the flinty and steel couch of 
+war 
+
+My thrice-driven bed of down: I do agnize 
+A natural and prompt alacrity 
+I find in hardness, and do undertake 
+These present wars against the Ottomites. _ 
+Most humbly therefore bending to your state, 
+I crave fit disposition for my wife, 
+Due reference of place and exhibition, 
+With such accommodation and besort 
+As levels with her breeding. 
+
+
+Duke. If you please, 240 
+Be 't at her father’s. 
+
+Bra. I ‘Il not have it so. 
+
+Oth. Nor I. 
+
+Des. Nor I; I would not there reside, 
+
+
+To put my father in impatient thoughts 
+By being in his eye. Most gracious duke, 
+To my unfolding lend your prosperous ear; 
+And let me find a charter in your voice, 
+To assist my simpleness. 
+Duke. What would you, Desdemona? 
+Des. That I did love the Moor to live 
+with him, 249 
+My downright violence and storm of fortunes 
+May trumpet to the world: my heart’s sub- 
+dued 
+Even to the very quality of my lord: 
+I saw Othello’s visage in his mind, 
+And to his honours and his valiant parts 
+Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate. 
+So that, dear lords, if I be left behind, 
+A moth of peace, and he go to the war, 
+The rites for which I love him are bereft me, 
+And I a heavy interim shall support 
+By his dear absence. Letme gowithhim. 260 
+Oth. Let her have your voices. 
+Vouch with me, heaven, I therefore beg it not, 
+To please the palate of my appetite, 
+Nor to comply with heat—the young affects 
+In me defunct—and proper satisfaction, 
+But to be free and bounteous to her mind: 
+And heaven defend your good souls, that you 
+think 
+I will your serious and great business scant 
+For she is with me: no, when light-wing’d toys 
+Of feather’d Cupid seel with wanton dullness 
+My speculative and officed instruments, 271 
+That my disports corrupt and taint my business, 
+Let housewives make a skillet of my helm, 
+And all indign and base adversities 
+Make head against my estimation! 
+Duke. Be it as you shall privately determine, 
+Either for her stay or going: the affair cries 
+haste, 
+And speed must answer it. 
+First Sen.. You must away to-night. 
+Oth. With all my heart. 
+
+
+1100 
+
+
+Duke. At nine i’ the morning here we'll 
+meet again. 
+Othello, leave some officer behind, 
+And he shall our commission bring to you; 
+With such things else of quality and respect 
+As doth import you. 
+
+Oth. So please your grace, my ancient; 
+
+A man he is of honesty and trust: 
+
+To his conveyance | assign my wife, 
+
+With what else needful your good grace shall 
+think 
+
+To be sent after me. 
+
+Duke. 
+
+Good night to every one. [To Brab.] And, 
+noble signior, 
+
+If virtue no delighted beauty lack, 290 
+
+Your son-in-law is far more fair than black. 
+
+First Sen. Adieu, brave Moor; use Desde- 
+
+mona well. 
+
+Bra. Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes 
+
+to see: 
+She has deceived her father, and may thee. 
+[Exeunt Duke, Senators, Officers, &c. 
+
+Oth. My lifeupon her faith! Honest Iago, 
+
+My Desdemona must I leave to thee: 
+
+I prithee, let thy wife attend on her; 
+
+And bring them’ after in the best advantage. 
+
+Come Desdemona; I have but an hour 
+
+Of love, of worldly matters and direction, 300 
+
+To spend with thee: we must obey the time. 
+[Exeunt Othello and Desdemona. 
+
+Rod. Jago,— 
+
+Iago. What say’st thou, noble heart? 
+
+Rod. What will I do, thinkest thou? 
+
+Iago. Why, go to bed, and sleep. 
+
+Rod. J will incontinently drown myself. 
+
+Iago. If thou dost, I shall never love thee 
+after. Why, thou silly gentleman! 
+
+Rod. It is silliness to live when to live is 
+torment; and then have we a prescription to 
+die when death is our physician. 311 
+
+Tago. O villainous! I have looked upon 
+the world for four times seven years; and 
+since I could distinguish betwixt a benefit and 
+an injury, I never found man that knew how 
+to love himself. Ere I would say, I would 
+drown myself for the love of a guinea-hen, | 
+would change my humanity with a baboon. 
+
+Rod. What should | do? I confess it is 
+my shame to be so fond; but it is not in my 
+virtue to amend it. 321 
+
+Tago. Virtue! a fig! ‘tis in ourselves that 
+we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gar- 
+dens, to: the which our wills are gardeners; so 
+that if we will plant nettles, or sow lettuce, 
+set hyssop and weed up thyme, supply it with 
+one gender of herbs, or district it with many, 
+either to: have it sterile with idleness, or ma- 
+nured with industry, why, the power and cor- 
+
+
+Let it be so. 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+[Act I, Sc. III 
+
+
+rigible authority of this lies in our wills. If 
+the balance of our lives had not one scale of 
+reason to poise another of sensuality, the blood 
+and baseness of our natures would conduct us 
+to most preposterous conclusions: but we have 
+
+
+reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal © 
+
+
+stings, our unbitted lusts, whereof I take this 
+that you call love to be a sect or scion. 
+
+Rod. It cannot be. 
+
+Tago. 
+a permission of the will. Come, be a man. 
+Drown thyself! drown cats and blind puppies. 
+I have professed me thy friend and I confess 
+me knit to thy deserving with cables of per- 
+durable toughness; I could never better stead 
+thee than now. Put money in thy purse; fol- 
+low thou the wars; defeat thy favour with an 
+unsurped beard; I say, put money in thy purse. 
+It cannot be that Desdemona should long con- 
+tinue her love to the Moor,—put money in thy 
+purse,—nor he his to her: it: was a violent 
+commencement, and thou shalt see an answer- 
+able sequestration:—put but money in thy 
+purse. These Moors are changeable in their 
+wills:—fill thy purse with money:—the food 
+that to him now is as luscious as locusts, shall 
+be to him shortly as bitter. as cologuintida. 
+She must change for youth: when she is sated 
+with his body, she will find the error of her 
+choice: she must have change, she must: there- 
+fore put money in thy purse. If thou wilt 
+needs damn thyself, do it a more delicate way 
+than drowning. Make all the money. thou 
+canst: if sanctimony and a frail yow betwixt 
+an erring barbarian and a supersubtle Vene- 
+tian be not too hard for my wits and all the 
+tribe of hell, thou shalt enjoy her; therefore 
+make money, A pox of drowning thyself! it 
+isiclean out of the way: seek thou ‘rather to 
+be hanged in compassing thy joy than to be 
+drowned and go without her. 
+
+Rod. Wilt thou be fast to my boc. if I 
+depend on the issue? 370 
+
+Jago. Thou art sure of me:—go, make 
+money:—I have told thee often, and I re-tell 
+thee again and again, | hate: the Moor: my 
+cause is hearted; thine hath no less reason. 
+Let us be conjunctive in our revenge against 
+him; if thou canst. cuckold him, thou dost 
+thyself a pleasure, me a sport. There are 
+many events in the’ womb of time which wilt 
+
+
+be delivered. . Traverse! go, provide thy 
+money. We will have more of this to-mor- 
+row. Adieu. 
+
+
+Rod. Where shall we meet i’ the aidening A 
+
+Tago, At my lodging. 
+
+Rod. I'll be with thee betimes. 
+
+Tago. Go to;. farewell. Do you hear, 
+Roderigo? 
+
+
+It is merely a lust of the blood and 
+
+
+SE ee Ee ee ee ee 
+
+
+te ane >in 
+
+
+~ After some time, to abuse Othello’s ear 
+
+
+TF ee ee 
+
+
+Act II, Sc. 
+
+
+Rod. What say you? 
+Iago. No more of drowning, do you hear? 
+
+
+Rod. 1 am changed: I'll go sell all my 
+
+
+land. ah [Exit. 
+Iago. ‘Thus do I ever make my fool my 
+purse; 
+For I mine own gain’d knowledge should 
+profane, 390 
+
+
+If I would time expend with such a snipe, 
+
+But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor; 
+
+And it is thought abroad, that ‘twixt my sheets 
+
+He hath done my office: I know not if ’t be 
+true; 
+
+
+But I, for mere suspicion in that kind, 
+
+
+Will do as if for surety. He holds me well; 
+The better shall my purpose work on him, 
+Cassio’s a proper man: let me see now: 
+
+To get his place and to plume up my will 
+
+In double knavery—How, how ?—Let’s 
+
+
+see:— 
+401 
+
+That he is too familiar with his wife. 
+He hath a person and a smooth dispose 
+To be suspected, framed to make women false. 
+The Moor is of a free and open nature, 
+That thinks men honest that but seem to be so, 
+And will as tenderly be led by the nose 
+As asses are. 
+I have 't. It is engender’d. Hell and night 
+Must bring this monstrous birth to the world’s 
+
+light. [Exit. 410 
+
+
+ACT Il. 
+
+
+A Sea-port in Cyprus. 
+place near the quay. 
+
+
+' Enter Montano and two Gentlemen. 
+
+
+Mon. What from the cape can you discern 
+
+at sea? 
+First Gent. Nothing at all: it is a high- 
+
+wrought flood; 
+
+I cannot, ‘twixt the heaven and the main, 
+
+Descry a sail. 
+
+Mon. Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud 
+at land; 
+
+A fuller blast ne’er shook our battlements: 
+
+If it hath ruffian’d so upon the sea, 
+
+What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on 
+
+
+Scene I. An open 
+
+
+them, 
+Can hold the mortise> What shall we hear 
+of this? 
+Sec. Gent. A segregation of the Turkish 
+fleet: 10 
+
+
+For do but stand upon the foaming shore, 
+
+The chidden billow seems to pelt the clouds; 
+
+The wind-shaked surge, with high and mon- 
+strous mane, 
+
+Seems to cast water on the burning bear, 
+
+And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole: 
+
+I never did like molestation view 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+1101 
+
+
+On the enchafed flood. 
+Mon. If that the Turkish fleet 
+Be not enshelter’d and embay'd, they are 
+drown’d; 
+
+
+It is impossible they bear it out. 19 
+Enter a third Gentleman. 
+Third Gent. News, lads! our wars are 
+
+
+done. 
+This desperate tempest hath so bang’d the 
+Turks, 
+That their designment halts: a noble ship of 
+Venice 
+Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance 
+On most part of their fleet. 
+Mon, How! is this true? 
+Third Gent. The ship is here put in, 
+A Veronesa; Michael Cassio, 
+Lieutenant to the warlike Moor Othello, 
+Is come on shore: the Moor himself at sea, 
+And is in full commission here for Cyprus. 
+Mon. I am glad on’t; ‘tis a worthy gov- 
+ernor. 
+Third Gent. But this same Cassio, though 
+he speak of comfort 31 
+Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly, 
+And prays the Moor be safe; for they were 
+parted 
+With foul and violent tempest. 
+Mon. Pray heavens he be; 
+For I have served him, and the man com- 
+mands 
+Like a full soldier. Let's to the seaside, ho} 
+As well to see the vessel that ’s come in 
+As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello, 
+Even till we make the main and the aerial 
+blue 
+An indistinct regard. 
+Third Gent. Come, let's do so; 
+For every minute is expectancy 
+Of more arrivance. 
+
+
+Enter Cassio. 
+
+
+Cas. Thanks, you the valiant of this war- 
+like isle, 
+That so approve the Moor! O, let the heavens 
+Give him defence against the elements, 
+For I have lost him on a dangerous sea. 
+Mon. Is he well shipp'd? 
+Cas. His bark is stoutly timber’d, and his 
+pilot 
+Of very expert and approved allowance; 
+Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death, 50 
+Stand in bold cure. 
+[A cry within ‘A sail, a sail, a sail!" 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+Enter a fourth Gentleman. 
+
+
+Cas. What no’se? 
+Fourth Gent. The town is empty; on ths 
+brow o’ the sea 
+
+
+1102 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+[Act II, Sc. 1 
+
+
+Stand ranks of people, and they cry ‘A sail!’ 
+Cas. My hopes do shape him for the gov- 
+ernor. [Guns heard. 
+
+
+Sec. Gent. They do discharge their shot of 
+
+
+courtesy: 
+Our friends at least. 
+Cas. I pray you, sir, go forth, 
+
+
+And give us truth who ‘tis that is arrived. 
+Sec. Gent. I shall. [Exit. 
+Mon. But, good lieutenant, is your general 
+
+wived ? 60 
+Cas. Most fortunately: he hath achieved a 
+maid 
+
+That paragons description and wild fame; 
+
+One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens, 
+
+And in the essential vesture of creation 
+
+Does tire the ingener. 
+
+
+Re-enter second Gentleman. 
+
+
+How now! who has put in? 
+Sec. Gent. "Tis one Iago, ancient to the 
+
+
+general. 
+Cas. Has had most favourable and happy 
+
+speed: 
+Tempests themselves, high seas and howling 
+
+winds, 
+
+
+The gutter’d rocks and congregated sands,— 
+Traitors ensteep'd to clog the guiltless keel,— 
+As having sense of beauty, do omit 71 
+Their mortal natures, letting so safely by 
+The divine Desdemona. 
+Mon. What is she? 
+Cas. She that I spake of, our great cap- 
+tain’s captain, 
+Left in the conduct of the bold Iago, 
+Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts 
+A se'nnight’s speed. Great Jove, Othello 
+guard, 
+And swell his sail with thine own powerful 
+breath, 
+That he may bless this bay with his tall ship, 
+Make love's quick pants in Desdemona’s arms, 
+Give renew’'d fire to our extincted spirits, 8] 
+And bring all Cyprus comfort! 
+
+
+Enter DEspEMoNA, Emiuia, Iaco, Roperico, 
+and Attendants. 
+
+
+O, behold, 
+The riches of the ship is come on shore! 
+Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees. 
+Hail to thee, lady! and the grace of heaven, 
+Before, behind thee and on every hand, 
+Enwheel thee round! 
+Des. I thank you, valiant Cassio. 
+What tidings can you tell me of my lord? 
+Cas. He is not yet arrived: nor know I 
+aught 
+But that he 's well and will be shortly here. 90 
+Des. O, but I fear—How lost you com- 
+pany ? 
+
+
+Cas. The great contention of the sea and 
+skies 
+Parted our fellowship—But, hark! a sail. 
+[Within ‘A sail, a sail!’. Guns heard. 
+Sec. Gent. They give their greeting to the 
+citadel: ‘ 
+This likewise is a friend. 
+Cas. See for the news. [Exit Gentleman. 
+Good ancient, you are welcome. [70 Emilia] 
+Welcome, mistress: 
+Let it not gall your patience, good Iago, 
+That I extend my manners; ‘tis my breeding 
+That gives me this bold show of courtesy. 100 
+[Kissing her. 
+Tago. Sir, would she give you so much of 
+her lips 
+As of her tongue she oft bestows on me, 
+You ‘ld have enough. 
+Des. Alas, she has no speech, 
+Tago. In faith, too much; . 
+I find it still, when I have list to sleep: 
+Marry, before your ladyship, I grant, 
+She puts her-tongue a little in her heart, 
+And chides with thinking. 
+Emil, You have little cause to say so. 
+Iago. Come on, come on; you are pictures 
+out of doors, 110 
+
+
+Bells in your parlours, wild-cats in your 
+
+
+kitchens, 
+Saints in your injuries, devils being offended, 
+Players in your housewifery, and housewives 
+in your beds. 
+
+Des. O, fie upon thee, slanderer! 
+
+Tago. Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk: 
+You rise to play and go to bed to work. 
+
+Emil, You shall not write my praise. 
+
+Tago. No, let me not. 
+
+Des. What wouldst thou write of me, if 
+
+thou shouldst praise me? 
+
+Tago. O gentle lady, do. not put me 
+
+tot; 
+For I am nothing, if not critical. 120 
+
+Des. Come on, assay. There's one gone 
+
+to the harbour? 
+
+Tago. Ay, madam, 
+
+Des. 1 am not merry; but I do beguile 
+The thing I am, by seeming otherwise. 
+Come, how wouldst thou praise me? 
+
+Tago. I am about it; but indeed my in- 
+
+
+vention 
+
+Comes from my pate as birdlime does from 
+frize; 
+
+It plucks out brains and all: but my Muse 
+labours, 
+
+
+And thus she is deliver'd. 
+If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit, 130 
+The one's for use, the other useth it. 
+Des. Well praised! How if she be black 
+and witty? 
+
+
+—— ee 
+
+
+\ * t 
+
+
+Act II, Se. I} 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+1103 
+
+
+_ JS EEE ane 
+
+
+Jago. \f she be black, and thereto have a 
+wit, 
+She ‘ll find a white that shall her blackness fit. 
+Des. Worse and worse. 
+Emil. How if fair and foolish? 
+Iago. She never yet was foolish that was 
+' fairs 
+For even her folly help’d her to an heir. 
+Des. These are old fond paradoxes to 
+make fools laugh i’ the alehouse. What mis- 
+erable praise hast thou for her that’s foul and 
+foolish > 
+Iago. There’s none so foul and foolish 
+thereunto, 
+But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones 
+
+
+o. 
+
+Des. O heavy ignorance! thou praisest the 
+worst best. But what praise couldst thou be- 
+stow on a deserving woman indeed, one that, 
+in the authority of her merit, did justly put on 
+
+-the vouch of very malice itself? 
+Iago. She that was ever fair and never 
+proud, 
+Had tongue at will and yet was_never loud, 
+Never lack’d gold and yet went never gay, 151 
+Fled from her wish and yet said ‘Now | may,’ 
+She that being anger’d, her revenge being nigh, 
+Bade her wrong stay and her displeasure fly, 
+She that in wisdom never was so frail 
+To change the cod's head for the salmon’s tail, 
+She that could think and ne'er disclose her 
+mind, 
+See suitors following and not look behind, 
+She was a wight, if ever such wight were,— 
+
+Des. To do what? 
+
+‘Iago, To suckle fools and chronicle small 
+
+beer. 
+
+Des. O most lame and impotent conclu- 
+sion! Do not learn of him, Emilia, though 
+he be thy husband. How say you, Cassio? is 
+he not a most profane and liberal counsellor? 
+
+Cas. He speaks home, madam: you may 
+relish him more in the soldier than in the 
+scholar. 
+
+Iago. [Aside] He takes her by the palm: 
+ay, well said, whisper: with as little a web as 
+this will I ensnare as great a fly as Cassio. 
+Ay, smile upon her, do; I will gyve thee in 
+thine own courtship. You say true; "tis so, 
+indeed: if such tricks as these strip you out of 
+your lieutenantry, it had been better you had 
+not kissed your three fingers so oft, which now 
+again'*you are most apt to play the sir in. 
+Very good; well kissed! an excellent cour- 
+tesy! ‘tis so, indeed. Yet again your fingers 
+to your lips? would they were clyster-pipes 
+for your sake! [Trumpet within.] The Moor! 
+1 know his trumpet. 180 
+
+Cas. "Tis truly so, 
+
+
+Des. Let's meet him and receive him. 
+Cas. Lo, where he comes! 
+
+
+Enter OTHELLO and Attendants. 
+Oth. O my fair warrior! 
+
+
+Des. My dear Othello! 
+Oth. It gives me wonder great as my con- 
+tent 
+
+
+To see you here before me. O my soul’s joy! 
+If after every tempest come such calms, 
+May the winds blow till they have waken’d 
+death! 
+
+And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas 
+Olympus-high and duck again as low 190 
+As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die, 
+*Twere now to be most happy; for, I fear, 
+My soul hath her content so absolute 
+That not another comfort like to this 
+Succeeds in unknown fate. 
+
+Des. The heavens forbid 
+But that our loves and comforts should in- 
+
+crease, 
+
+Even as our days do grow! 
+
+Oth. Amen to that, sweet powers! 
+I cannot speak enough of this content; 
+It stops me here; it is too much of joy: 199 
+And this, and this, the greatest discords be 
+
+[Kissing her. 
+
+That e’er our hearts shall make! 
+
+Iago. [Aside] O, you are well tuned now! 
+But I'll set down the pegs that make this 
+
+
+music, 
+As honest as I am. 
+Oth. Come, let us to the castle. 
+
+
+News, friends; our wars are done, the Turks 
+are drown’d. 
+How does my old acquaintance of this isle? 
+Honey, you shall be well desired in Cyprus; 
+I have found great love amongst them. O my 
+sweet, 
+I prattle out of fashion, and I dote 
+In mine own comforts. I prithee, good Iago, 
+Go to the bay and disembark my coffers: 210 
+Bring thou the master to the citadel; 
+He is a good one, and his worthiness 
+Does challenge much respect. Come, Desde- 
+mona, 
+Once more, well met at Cyprus. 
+[Exeunt Othello, Desdemona, and Attendants. 
+Iago. Do thou meet me presently at the 
+harbour. Come hither. If thou be’st valiant, 
+—as, they say, base men being in love have 
+then a nobility in their natures more than is 
+native to them,—list me. The lieutenant to- 
+night watches on the court of guard:—first, I 
+must tell thee this—Desdemona is directly in 
+love with him. 221 
+Rod. With him! why, ‘tis not possible. 
+Iago. Lay thy finger thus, and let thy soul 
+
+
+1104 : 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+7 
+
+
+be instructed. Mark me with what violence 
+she first loved the Moor, but for bragging and 
+telling her fantastical ties: and will she love 
+him still for prating? let not thy discreet heart 
+think it. Her eye must be fed; and what 
+delight shall she have to look on the devil? 
+When the blood is made dull with the act of 
+sport, there should be, again to inflame it ana 
+to give satiety a fresh appetite, loveliness in 
+favour, sympathy in years, manners and beau- 
+ties; all which the Moor is defective in: now, 
+for want of these required conveniences, her 
+delicate tenderness will find itself abused, be- 
+gin to heave the gorge, disrelish and abhor the 
+Moor; very nature will instruct her in it and 
+compel her to some second choice. Now, sir, 
+this granted,—as it is a most pregnant and un- 
+forced position—who stands so eminent in the 
+degree of this fortune as Cassio does? a knave 
+very voluble; no further conscionable than in 
+putting on the mere form of civil and humane 
+seeming, for the better compassing of his salt 
+and most hidden loose affection? why, none; 
+why, none: a slipper and subtle knave, a 
+finder of occasions, that has an eye can stamp 
+and counterfeit advantages, though true ad- 
+vantage never present itself; a devilish knave. 
+Besides, the knave is handsome, young, and 
+hath all those requisites in him that folly and 
+green minds look after: a pestilent complete 
+knave; and the woman hath found him 
+already. 
+
+Rod. 1 cannot believe that in her; she’s 
+full of most blessed condition. 
+
+fago. Blessed fig’s-end! the wine she drinks 
+is made of grapes: if she had been blessed, she 
+would never have loved the Moor. Blessed 
+pudding! Didst thou not see her paddle with 
+the palm of his hand? didst not mark that? 
+
+Rod. Yes, that I did; but that was but 
+courtesy. 
+
+Iago. Lechery, by this hand; an index and 
+obscure prologue to the history of lust and 
+foul thoughts. They met so near with their 
+lips that their breaths embraced together. Vil- 
+lanous thoughts, Roderigo! when these mu- 
+tualities so marshal the way, hard at hand 
+comes the master and main exercise, the incor- 
+porate conclusion, Pish! But, sir, be you ruled 
+by me: I have brought you from Venice. 
+Watch you to-night; for the command, I'll 
+lay "t upon you. Cassio knows you not. I'll 
+not be far from you: do you find some oc- 
+casion to anger Cassio, either by speaking too 
+loud, or tainting his discipline; or from what 
+other course you please, which the time shall 
+more favourably minister. 
+
+Rod. Well. 
+
+
+Tago, Sir, he is rash and very sudden in 
+
+
+>>? 
+
+
+[Act II, Sc. 
+
+
+choler, and haply may strike at you: provoke 
+
+
+him, that he may; for even out of that will I 
+cause these of Cyprus to mutiny; whose qual- 
+ification shall come into no true taste again 
+but by the displanting of Cassio. So shall you 
+have a shorter journey to your desires by the 
+means | shall then have to prefer them; and 
+the impediment most profitably removed, 
+without the which there were no expectation 
+of our prosperity. . 
+
+Rod. I will do this, if I can bring it to any 
+opportunity. 290 
+
+Jago. I warrant thee. Meet me by and by 
+at the citadel: I must fetch his necessaries 
+
+
+ashore. Farewell. 
+Rod, Adieu. [Exit. 
+Iago. That Cassio loves her, I do well be- 
+lieve it; 
+That she loves him, ‘tis apt and of great 
+credit: 
+
+
+The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not, 
+
+Is of a constant, loving, noble nature, 
+
+And I dare think he'll prove to Desdemona 
+
+A most dear husband, Now, I do love her 
+too; 1 
+
+Not out of absolute lust, though peradventure 
+
+I stand accountant for as great a sin, 
+
+But partly led to diet my revenge, 
+
+For that I do suspect the lusty Moor | 
+
+Hath leap’d into my seat; the thought whereof 
+
+Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my in- 
+wards; 
+
+And nothing can or shall content my soul 
+
+Till I am even’d with him, wife for wife, 
+
+Or failing so, Yet that I put the Moor 
+
+At least into a jealousy so strong 
+
+BY cl hose cannot cure. Which 
+
+O, 
+
+If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trash 
+
+For his quick hunting, stand the putting on, 
+
+I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip, 
+
+Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb— 
+
+For I fear Cassio with my night-cap too— 
+
+Make the Moor thank me, love me and re- 
+ward me, 
+
+For making him egregiously an ass 
+
+And practising upon his peace and quiet 319 
+
+Even to madness. “Tis here, but yet con- 
+fused: 
+
+Knavery’s plain face is never seen till used. 
+
+
+[Exit, 
+
+
+310 
+thing to 
+
+
+Scene II. A street. 
+
+
+Enter a Herald with a proclamation; People 
+following. 
+
+
+Her, It is Othello’s pleasure, our noble 
+and valiant general, that, upon certain tidings 
+now arrived, importing the mere perdition of 
+the Turkish fleet, every man put himself mto 
+
+
+7 
+¥ 
+
+
+E 
+
+
+Pe eee eee eS ee a 
+
+
+Act Il, Sc. WI] 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+1105 
+
+
+triumph; some to dance, some to make bon- 
+fires, each man to what sport and revels his 
+addiction leads him: for, besides these bene- 
+ficial news, it is the celebration of his nuptial. 
+So much was his pleasure should be pro- 
+claimed. A\ll offices are open, and there is 
+full liberty of feasting from this present hour 
+of five till the bell have told eleven. Heaven 
+bless the isle of Cyprus and our noble general 
+
+
+Othello! [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. A hall in the castle. 
+Enter OTHELLO, DespEMoNa, Cassio, and 
+Attendants. 
+
+Oth. Good Michael, look you to the guard 
+
+
+to-night: 
+Let’s teach ourselves that honourable stop, 
+Not to outsport discretion. 
+
+Cas. Iago hath direction what to do; 
+But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye 
+Will I look to’t. 
+
+Oth. Iago is most honest. 
+Michael, good night: to-morrow with your 
+
+earliest 
+Let me have speech with you. [To Desde- 
+mona} Come, my dear love, 
+The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue; 
+That profits yet to come "tween me and you. 
+Good night. 
+ [Exeunt Othello, Desdemona, and 
+Attendants. 
+
+
+y 
+
+
+Enter Iaco. 
+
+
+Cas. the 
+watch. 
+
+Iago. Not this hour, lieutenant; ‘tis not 
+yet ten o the clock. Our general casts us 
+thus early for the love of his Desdemona; 
+who let us not therefore blame: he hath not 
+yet made wanton the night with her; and she 
+is sport for Jove. 
+
+Cas. She’s a most exquisite lady. 
+
+Tago. And, 1 "ll warrant her, full of game. 
+
+Cas. Indeed, she’s a most fresh and deli- 
+cate creature. 21 
+
+
+Welcome, Iago; we must to 
+
+
+Iago. What an eye she has! methinks it! 
+
+
+sounds a parley of provocation. 
+
+Cas. An inviting eye; and yet methinks 
+right modest. 
+
+_ Iago. And when she speaks, is it not an 
+alarum to love? 
+
+Cas, She is indeed perfection. 
+
+Jago. Well, happiness to their sheets! 
+Come, lieutenant, | have a stoup of wine; and 
+here without are a brace of Cyprus gallants 
+that would fain have a measure to the health 
+of black Othello. 
+
+Cas. Not to-night, good Iago: I have very 
+foor and unhappy brains for drinking: | 
+
+
+could well wish courtesy would invent some 
+other custom of entertainment. 
+
+Iago, O, they are our friends; but one 
+cup: I'll drink for you. 39 
+
+Cas. I have drunk but one cup to-night, 
+and that was craftily qualified too, and, be- 
+hold, what innovation it makes here: I am 
+unfortunate in the infirmity, and dare not 
+task my weakness with any more. 
+
+Iago. What, man! ‘tis a night of revels; 
+the gallants desire it. 
+
+Cas. Where are they? 
+
+Iago. Here at the door; I pray you, call 
+them in. 
+
+Cas. I'll do’t; but it dislikes me. [Exit. 
+
+
+Iago. If I can fasten but one cup upon 
+
+
+him, 
+With that which he hath drunk to-night al- 
+ready, 51 
+
+
+He'll be as full of quarrel and offence 
+
+As my young mistress’.dog. Now, my sick 
+fool Roderigo, 
+
+Whom love hath turn'd almost the wrong side 
+out, 
+
+To Desdemona hath to-night caroused 
+
+Potations pottle-deep; and he’s to watch: 
+
+Three lads of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits, 
+
+That hold their honours in a wary distance, 
+
+The very elements of this warlike isle, 
+
+Have I to-night fluster’d with flowing cups, 60 
+
+And they watch too. Now, ‘mongst this flock 
+of drunkards, 
+
+Am I to put our Cassio in some action 
+
+That may offend the isle-—But here they come: 
+
+If consequence do but approve my dream, 
+
+My boat sails freely, both with wind and 
+stream. 
+
+
+Re-enter Cassio; with him Montano and 
+Gentlemen; Servants following with wine. 
+
+
+Cas. "Fore God, they have given me a 
+rouse already. 
+
+Mon. Good faith, a little one; not past a 
+pint, as I am a soldier. 
+
+Tago. Some wine, ho! 70 
+[Sings] And let me the canakin clink, clink; 
+
+And let me the canakin clink: 
+A soldier ’s but a man; 
+A life’s but a span; 
+Why, then, let a soldier drink. 
+Some wine, boys! 
+
+Cas. ‘Fore God, an excellent song. 
+
+Jago. 1 learned it in England, where, in- 
+deed, they are most potent in potting: your 
+Dane, your German, and your swag-bellied 
+Hollander—Drink, ho!—are nothing to your 
+English. 81 
+
+Cas. Is your Englishman so expert in his 
+drinking? 
+
+
+1106 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+[Act Il, Sc, Il 
+
+
+Tago, Why, he drinks you, with facil ty, 
+your Dane dead drunk; he sweats not to over- 
+throw your Almain; he gives your Hollander 
+a vomit, ere the next potile can be filled. 
+
+Cas. To the health of our general! 
+
+Mon. | am for it, lieutenant; and I'll do 
+you justice, 
+
+Tago. O sweet England! 
+
+King Stephen was a worthy peer, 
+
+His breeches cost him but a crown; 
+
+He held them sixpence all too dear, 
+
+With that he call’d the tailor lown. 
+
+He was a wight of high renown, 
+
+And thou art but of low degree: 
+
+‘Tis pride that pulls the country down; 
+
+Then take thine auld cloak about thee. 
+Some wine, ho! 100 
+
+Cas. Why, this is a more exquisite song 
+than the other. 
+
+Tago. Will you hear't again? 
+
+Cas. No; for I hold him to be unworthy 
+of his place that does those things. Well, 
+God's above all; and there be souls must be 
+saved, and there be souls must not be saved. 
+
+Tago. It's true, good lieutenant. 
+
+Cas. For mine own part,—no offence to 
+the general, nor any man of quality,—I hope 
+to be saved. 11 
+
+Iago. And so do I too, lieutenant. 
+
+Cas. Ay, but, by your leave, not before 
+me; the lieutenant is to be saved before the 
+ancient. Let’s have no more of this; let‘s to 
+our affairs——Forgive us our sins!—Gentle- 
+men, let's look to our business. Do not think, 
+gentlemen, I am drunk: this is my ancient; 
+this is my right hand, and this is my left: I 
+am not drunk now; I can stand well enough, 
+and speak well enough. 120 
+
+All. Excellent well. 
+
+Cas. Why, very well then; you must not 
+think then that I am drunk. [Exit. 
+
+Mon. To the platform, masters; come, 
+let’s set the watch. 
+
+Tago. You see th’s fellow that is gone 
+
+before; 
+He is a soldier fit to stand by Cesar 
+And give direction: and do but see his vice; 
+"Tis to his virtue a just equinox, 
+The one as long as the other: 'tis pity of him. 
+I fear the trust Othello puts him in, 13] 
+On some odd time of his infirmity, 
+Will shake this island. 
+But is he often thus? 
+
+
+The general were put in mind of it. 
+
+
+Perhaps he sees it not; or his good nature 
+Prizes the virtue that appears in Casso, 139 
+And looks not on his evils: is not this true? 
+
+
+Enter Roperico. 
+Tago. [Aside to him] How now, Roderigo! 
+
+
+90|I pray you, after the lieutenant; go. 
+
+
+[Exit Roderigo, 
+Mon. And ‘tis great pity that the noble 
+Moor 
+Should hazard such a place as his own second 
+With one of an ingraft infirmity: 
+It were an honest action to say 
+So to the Moor. 
+Tago. Not I, for this fair island: 
+I do love Cassio well; and would do much 
+To cure him of this evil—But, hark! what 
+noise ? [Cry within: ‘Help! help!’ 
+
+
+Re-enter Cassio, driving in RoDERIGO. 
+
+
+Cas. You rogue! you rascal! 
+
+Mon. What's the matter, lieutenant? 
+
+Cas. A knave teach me my duty! 151 
+I'll beat the knave into a twiggen bottle. 
+
+Rod. Beat me! 
+
+
+Cas. Dost thou prate, rogue? 
+[Striking Roderigo. 
+Mon. Nay, good lieutenant; 
+
+
+[Staying him. 
+I pray you, sir, hold your hand. 
+Cas. Let me go, sir, 
+Or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard. 
+Mon. Come, come, you're drunk. 
+Cas. Drunk! [They fight. 
+Iago. [Asideto Roderigo] Away, I say; go 
+out, and cry a mutiny. [Exit Roderigo. 
+Nay, good lieutenant,—alas, gentlemen; — 
+Help, ho! — Lieutenant, —sir, —Montano, — 
+sir ;— 159 
+Help, masters!—Here's a goodly watch in- 
+deed! [Bell rings. . 
+Who's that which rings the bell ?—Diablo, 
+ho! 
+The town will rise: 
+hold! 
+
+
+You will be shamed for ever. 
+
+
+God's will, lieutenant, 
+
+
+Re-enter OTHELLO and Attendants, 
+
+
+Oth. What is the matter here? 
+
+Mon. ‘Zounds, I bleed still; I am hurt to 
+the death. [Faints, 
+
+Oth. Hold, for your lives! 
+
+Tago. Hold, ho! Lieutenant,—sir,—Mon- 
+tano,—gentlemen,— 
+
+ave you forgot all sense of place and duty? 
+
+Hold! the general speaks to you; hold, hold, 
+
+for shame! 
+
+Oth. Why, how now, ho! from whence 
+ariseth this? 
+
+
+1 lad 
+
+
+Acz Il, Se. HI] 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+1107 
+
+
+Are we turn’d Turks, and to ourselves do that 
+
+Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites? 171 
+
+For Christian shame, put by this barbarous 
+brawl: 
+
+He that stirs next to carve for his own rage 
+
+Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion. 
+
+Silence that dreadful bell: it frights the isle 
+
+From her propriety. What is the matter, 
+masters ? : 
+
+Honest Iago, that look’st dead with grieving, 
+
+Speak, who began this? on thy love, I charge 
+
+
+thee. 
+Tago. I do not know: friends all but now, 
+even now, 179 
+
+
+In quarter, and in terms like bride and groom 
+
+
+Devesting them for bed; and then, but now— 
+
+As if some planet had unwitted men— 
+
+Swords out, and tilting one at other's breast, 
+
+In opposition bloody. I cannot speak 
+
+Any beginning to this peevish odds; 
+
+And would in action glorious I had lost 
+
+Those legs that brought me to a part of it! 
+Oth. How comes it, Michael, you are thus 
+
+
+forgot? 
+
+Cas. I pray you, pardon me; I cannot 
+speak. 
+
+Oth. Worthy Montano, you were wont be 
+civil; 190 
+
+
+The gravity and stillness of your youth 
+
+The world hath noted, and your name is great 
+
+In mouths of wisest censure: what’s the mat- 
+ter, 
+
+That you unlace your reputation thus 
+
+And spend your rich opinion for the name 
+
+Of a night-brawler? give me answer to it. 
+
+~ Mon. Worthy Othello, I am hurt to dan- 
+ger: 
+
+Your officer, Iago, can inform you,— 
+
+While I spare speech, which something now 
+offends me,— 
+
+Of all that I do know: nor know I aught 200 
+
+By me that’s said or done amiss this night; 
+
+Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice, 
+
+And to defend ourselves it be a sin 
+
+When violence assails us. 
+
+Oth. Now, by heaven, 
+
+My blood begins my safer guides to rule;. 
+
+Sed Beene having my best judgement col- 
+ied, 
+
+Assays to lead the way: if I once stir, 
+
+Or do but lift this arm, the best of you 
+
+Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know 
+
+How. this foul rant began, who set it on; 210 
+
+And he that is approved in this offence, 
+
+Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a 
+birth, 
+
+Shall lose me. What! in a town of war, 
+
+Yet wild, the people's hearts brimful of fear, 
+
+To manage private and domestic quarrel, 
+
+
+In night, and on the court and guard of 
+safety! 
+‘Tis monstrous. Iago, who began ’t? 
+Mon. If partially affned, or leagued in 
+office, 4 
+Thou dost deliver more or less than truth, 
+Thou art ne soldier. 
+Tago. Touch me not so near: 
+
+
+220 
+
+
+I had rather have this tongue cut from my 
+
+
+mouth 
+Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio; 
+Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth 
+Shall nothing wrong him. Thus it is, general. 
+Montano and myself being in speech, 
+There comes a fellow crying out for help; 
+And Cassio following him with determined 
+sword, 
+To execute upon him. Sir, this gentleman 
+Steps in to Cassio, and entreats his pause: 
+Myself the crying fellow did pursue, 230 
+Lest by his clamour—as it so fell out— 
+The town might fall in fright: he, swift of 
+foot, 
+Outran my purpose; and [ return’d the rather 
+For that I heard the clink and fall of swords, 
+And Cassio high in oath; which till to-night 
+I ne'er might say before. When I came back— 
+For this was brief—I found them close to- 
+gether, 
+At blow and thrust; even as again they were 
+When you yourself did part them. 
+More of this matter cannot I report: 240 
+But men are men; the best sometimes forget: 
+Though Cassio did some little wrong to him, 
+As men in tage strike those that wish them 
+best, 
+Yet surely Cassio, I believe, received 
+From him that fled some strange indignity, 
+Which patience could not pass. : 
+Oth. I know, Iago, 
+Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter, 
+Making it light to Cassio. Cassio, I love thee; 
+But never more be officer of mine. 
+
+
+Re-enter DEsDEMONA, attended. 
+
+
+Look, if my gentle love be not raised up! 250 
+Ill make thee an example. 
+Des. What's the matter? 
+Oth. All’s well now, sweeting; come away 
+to bed. 
+Sir, for your hurts, myself will be your sur. 
+geon: 
+Lead him off. [To Montano, who is led off. 
+Iago, look with care about the town, 
+And silence thase whom this vile brawl dis- 
+tracted. 
+Come, Desdemona: ‘tis the soldiers’ life 
+To have their balmy slumbers waked with 
+strife. JExeunt all but Iago and Cassio. 
+
+
+1108 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+..= ve CNTs ae 
+
+
+‘ y - ab kegs © ae eae 
+
+
+[Acr I], Sc. Il] 
+
+
+a hw — 
+
+
+Iago, What, are you hurt, lieutenant? 
+
+Cas. Ay, past all surgery. 
+
+Tago. Marry, heaven forbid! 
+
+Cas, Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, 
+I have lost my reputation! I have lost the 
+immortal part of myself, and what remains is 
+bestial. My reputation, Iago, my reputation! 
+
+Iago. As I am an honest man, | thought 
+you had received some bodily wound; there is 
+more sense in that than in reputation. Repu- 
+tation is an idle and most false imposition; oft 
+got without merit, and lost without deserving: 
+you have lost no reputation at all, unless you 
+repute yourself such a loser. What, man! 
+there are ways to recover the general again: 
+you are but now cast in his mood, a punishment 
+more in policy than in malice; even so as one 
+would beat his offenceless dog to affright an 
+imperious lion: sue to him again, and he’s 
+yours. 
+
+Cas. I will rather sue to be despised than 
+to deceive so good a commander with so slight, 
+so drunken, and so indiscreet an officer. 
+Drunk? and speak parrot? and squabble? 
+swagger? swear? and discourse fustian with 
+one’s own shadow? O thou invisible spirit of 
+wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, 
+let us call thee devil! 
+
+Tago. What was he that you followed with 
+vour sword? What had he done to you? 
+
+Cas. I know not. 
+
+Tago. Is’t possible? 
+
+Cas. I remember a mass of things, but 
+nothing distinctly; a quarrel, but nothing 
+wherefore. O God, that men should put an 
+enemy in their mouths to steal away their 
+brains! that we should, with joy, pleasance, 
+revel and applause transform ourselves into 
+beasts! 
+
+Iago. Why, but you are now well enough: 
+how came you thus recovered? 
+
+Cas. It hath pleased the devil drunkenness 
+to give place to the devil wrath: one unper- 
+fectness shows me another, to make me 
+frankly despise myself, 300 
+
+Tago, Come, you are too severe a moraler: 
+as the time, the place, and the condition of 
+this country stands, I could heartily wish this 
+had not befallen; but, since it is as it is, 
+mend it for your own good. 
+
+Cas. 1 will ask him for my place again; 
+he shall tell me I am a drunkard! Had I as 
+many mouths as Hydra, such an answer 
+would stop thein all. To be now a sensible 
+man, by and by a fool, and presently a 
+beast! O strange! Every inordinate cup 
+is unblessed and the ingredient is a devil. 
+
+Iago. Come, come, good wine is a good 
+familiar creature, if it be well used: exclaim 
+
+
+260 
+
+
+no more against it. And, good lieutenant, I 
+think you think I love you. . 
+
+Cas. | have well approved it, sir. I 
+drunk! 
+
+Iago. You or any man living may be drunk 
+at a time, man. I'll tell you what you shall 
+do. Our general’s wife is now the general: I 
+may say so in this respect, for that he hath 
+devoted and given up himself to the contem- 
+plation, mark, and denotement of her parts 
+and graces: confess yourself freely to her; 
+importune her help to put you in your place 
+again: she is of so free, so kind, so apt, so 
+blessed a disposition, she holds it a vice in her 
+goodness not to do more than she is requested: 
+this broken joint between you and her hus- 
+band entreat her to splinter; and, my fortunes 
+against any lay worth naming, this crack of 
+your love shall grow stronger than it was 
+before. 331 
+
+Cas. You advise me well, 
+
+Tago. I protest, in the sincerity of love and 
+honest kindness. 
+
+Cas. I think it freely; and betimes in the 
+morning I will beseech the virtuous Desde- 
+mona to undertake for me: I am desperate of 
+my fortunes if they check me here. 
+
+
+Tago. You are in the right. Good night. 
+lieutenant; I must to the watch. 340 
+Cas. Good night, honest Iago. [Exit. 
+
+
+Iago. And what's he then that says I play 
+
+the villain > 
+
+When this advice is free I give and honest, 
+
+Probal to thinking and indeed the course 
+
+To win the Moor again? For ‘tis most easy 
+
+The inclining Desdemona to subdue 
+
+In any honest suit: she’s framed as fruitful 
+
+As the free elements. And then for her 
+
+To win the Moor—were’t to renounce his 
+baptism, 
+
+All seals and symbols of redeemed sin, 350 
+
+His soul is so enfetter’d to her love, 
+
+That she may make, unmake, do what she list, 
+
+Even as her appetite shall play the god 
+
+With his weak function. How am I then a 
+villain 
+
+To counsel Cassio to this parallel course, 
+
+Directly to his good? Divinity of hell! 
+
+When devils will the blackest sins put on, 
+
+They do suggest at first with heavenly shows, 
+
+As.I do now: for whiles th’s honest fool 
+
+Plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes 360 
+
+And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor, 
+
+I'll pour this pestilence into his ear, 
+
+That she repeals him for her body’s lust; 
+
+And by how much she strives to do him 
+good, 
+
+She shall undo her credit with the Moor. 
+
+So will I turn her virtue into pitch, 
+
+
+ewe, 
+
+
+a ee 
+
+
+——— a 
+
+
+ee ee 
+
+
+Se Se ee ee ee ee a ee ee 
+
+
+Act Ill, Sc. 1] 
+
+
+. 
+
+
+ai rt ae 
+
+
+LS oie 
+= ‘* 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+1109 
+
+
+And out of her own goodness make the net 
+
+
+That shall enmesh them all. 
+Re-enter Roperico. 
+How now, Roderigo! 
+
+
+Rod. I do follow here in the chase, not like 
+
+a hound that hunts, but one that fills up the 
+
+cry. My money is almost spent; I have been 
+
+to-night exceedingly well cudgelled; and I 
+
+think the issue will be, I shall have so much 
+
+experience for my pains, and so, with no 
+
+money at all and a little more wit, return 
+
+again to Venice. 
+
+Iago. How poor are they that have not 
+
+patience! 
+
+What wound did ever heal but by degrees? 
+
+Thou know’st we work by wit, and not by 
+
+witchcraft; 
+
+And wit depends on dilatory time. 
+
+Does ‘t not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee, 
+
+And thou, by that small hurt, hast cashier’d 
+Cassio: 381 
+
+Though other things grow fair against the sun, 
+
+Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe: 
+
+Content thyself awhile. By the mass, ‘tis 
+morning; 
+
+Pleasure and action make the hours seem short. 
+
+Retire thee; go where thou art billeted: 
+
+Away, I say; thou shalt know more hereafter: 
+
+Nay, get thee gone. [Exit Roderigo.] Two 
+things are to be done: 
+
+My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress; 
+
+I'll set her on; 390 
+
+Myself the while to draw the Moor apart, 
+
+And bring him jump when he may Cassio find 
+
+Soliciting his wife: ay, that’s the way: 
+
+Dull not device by coldness and delay. [Exit. 
+
+
+ACT III. 
+
+
+Scene I. Before the Castle. 
+Enter Cassio and some Musicians. 
+
+
+Cas. Masters, play here; I will content 
+your pains ; 
+Something that’s brief; and bid “Good mor- 
+row, general.’ [Music. 
+Enter Clown. 
+
+Clo. Why, masters, have your instruments 
+been in Naples, that they speak i’ the nose 
+thus? 
+
+First Mus. How, sir, how! 
+
+
+Clo. Are these, 1 pray you, wind-instru- 
+ments? 
+
+First Mus. Ay, marry, are they, sir. 
+
+Clo. O, thereby hangs a tail. 
+
+
+First Mus. Whereby hangs a tale, sir? 9 
+Clo. Marry, sir, by many a wind-instru- 
+ment that | know. But, masters, here ’s money 
+for you: and the general so likes your music, 
+
+
+that he desires you, for love's sake, to make 
+no more noise with it. 
+
+First Mus. Well, sir, we will not. 
+
+Clo. If you have any music that may not 
+be heard, tot again: but, as they say, to hear 
+music the general does not greatly care. 
+
+First Mus. We have none such, sir. 
+
+Clo. Then put up your pipes in your bag, 
+for I'll away: go; vanish into air; away! 2 
+
+[Exeunt Musicians. 
+
+Cas. Dost thou hear, my honest friend? 
+
+
+Clo. No, I hear not your honest friend; I 
+hear you. 
+Cas. Prithee, keep up thy quillets. There ’s 
+
+
+a poor piece of gold for thee: if the gentle- 
+woman that attends the general’s wife be 
+stirrng, tell her there’s one Cassio entreats 
+her a little favour of speech: wilt thou do this? 
+
+Clo. She is stirring, sir: if she will stir 
+hither, I shall seem to notify unto her. 3) 
+
+
+Cas. Do, good my friend. [Exit Clown. 
+Enter laco. 
+In happy time, Iago, 
+Iago. You have not been a-bed, then? 
+Cas. Why, no; the day had broke 
+
+
+Before we parted. I have made bold, Iago, 
+To send in to your wife: my suit to her 
+Is, that she will to virtuous Desdemona 
+Procure me some access. 
+
+Tago. I'll send her to you presently; 
+And I'll devise a mean to draw the Moor 
+Out of the way, that your converse and business 
+
+
+May be more free. 41 
+Cas. I humbly thank you for’t. [Exit 
+Tago.}] I never knew 
+
+
+A Florentine more kind and honest. 
+Enter Emivia. 
+
+
+Emil. Good morrow, good lieutenant: I 
+am sorry 
+For your displeasure; but all will sure be well. 
+The general and his wife are talking of it; 
+And she speaks for you stoutly: the Moor 
+replies, 
+That he you hurt is of great fame in Cyprus 
+And great affinity and that in wholesome 
+Wisdom 
+He might not but refuse you, but he protests 
+he loves you 50 
+And needs no other suitor but his likings 
+To take the safest occasion by the front 
+To bring you in again. 
+Cas. Yet, I beseech you, 
+If you think fit, or that it may be done, 
+Give me advantage of some brief discourse 
+With Desdemona alone. 
+Emil. Pray you, come in: 
+I will bestow you where you shall have time 
+
+
+1110 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+[Act III, Sc. Hl 
+
+
+To speak your bosom freely. 
+Cas, I am much bound to you. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. A room in the castle. 
+Enter OTHELLO, Jaco, and Gentlemen. 
+Oth, These letters give, Iago, to the pilot; 
+And by him do my duties to the senate: 
+That done, I will be walking on the works; 
+Repair there to me. 
+Tago. Well, my good lord, I'll do't. 
+Oth. This fortification, gentlemen, shall we 
+see 't? 
+Gent. We'll wait upon your lordship. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. The garden of the castle. 
+Enter Despemona, Cassio, and Emiia. 
+
+
+Des. Be thou assured, good Cassio, I will do 
+All my abilities in thy behalf. 
+Emil. Good madam, do: 
+
+grieves my husband, 
+As if the case were his. 
+Des. O, that’s an honest fellow. 
+doubt, Cassio, 
+But I will have my lord and you again 
+As friendly as you were. 
+
+
+as. Bounteous madam, 
+Whatever shall become of 
+
+
+Michael Cassio, 
+
+
+He's never any thing but your true servant. 
+
+
+I warrant it 
+
+
+Do not 
+
+
+Des. | know’t; I thank you. You do 
+love my lord: 10 
+You have known him long; and be you well 
+
+
+assured 
+He shall in strangeness stand no further off 
+Than in a politic distance, 
+Cas. Ay, but, lady, 
+That policy may either last so long, 
+Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet, 
+Or breed itself so out of circumstance, 
+That, I being absent and my place supplied, 
+My general will forget my love and service. 
+Des. Do not doubt that; before Emilia here 
+I give thee warrant of thy place: assure thee, 
+If I do vow a friendsh'p, I ‘ll perform it 
+To the last article: my lord shall never rest; 
+I'll watch him tame and talk him out of 
+patience; 
+His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift; 
+I'll intermingle every thing he does 
+With Cassio’s suit: therefore be merry, Cassio; 
+For thy solicitor shall rather die 
+Than give thy cause away. 
+Emil, Madam, here comes my lord. 
+Cas. Madam, I'll take my leave. 
+Des. Why, stay, and hear me speak, 
+Cas, Madam, not now: I am very ill at 
+ease, 
+Unfit for mine own purposes. 
+Des. Well, do your discretion. [Exit Cassio. 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+Enter OTHELLO and Iaco, 
+Tago. Ha! I like not- that. 
+What dost thou say? 
+
+
+Tago. Nothing, my lord: or if—I know not 
+what. 
+
+Oth. Was not that Cassio parted from my 
+wife? 
+
+Tago. Cassio, my lord! No, sure, I can- 
+not think it, 
+
+
+That he would steal away so guilty-like, 
+Seeing you coming. 
+Oth, I do believe ‘twas he. 
+Des. How now, my lord! 
+I have been talking with a suitor here, 
+A man that languishes in your displeasure. 
+Oth. Who is"t you mean? 
+Des. Why, your lieutenant, Cassio. Good 
+my lord, 
+If I have any grace or power to move you, 
+His present reconciliation take; 
+For if he be not one that truly loves you, 
+That errs in ignorance and not in cunning, 
+I have no judgement in an honest face: 
+I prithee, call him back. 
+Oth, Went he hence now? 
+Des. Ay, sooth; so humbled 
+That he hath left part of his grief with me, 
+To suffer with him. Good love, call him back. 
+Oth. Not now, sweet Desdemona; some 
+other time. 
+Des. But shall 't be shortly? 
+Oth. The sooner, sweet, for you. 
+Des. Shall’t be to-night at supper? 
+Oth. No, not to-night. 
+Des. To-morfow dinner, then? 
+Oth. I shall not dine at home; 
+I meet the captains at the citadel. 
+Des. Why, then, to-morrow night; or 
+Tuesday morn; 
+On Tuesday noon, or night; on Wednesday 
+morn: 
+I prithee, name the time, but let it not 
+Exceed three days: in faith, he's penitent; 
+And yet his trespass, in our common reason— 
+Save that, they say, the wars must make ex- 
+amples 
+Out of their best—is not almost a fault 
+To incur a private check. When shall he come? 
+Tell me, Othello: I wonder in my soul, 
+What you would ask me, that I should deny, 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+50 
+
+
+Or stand so mammering on. What! Michael 
+Cassio, 70 
+That came a-wooing with you, and so many 
+
+
+a time, 
+When I have spoke of you dispraisingly, 
+Hath ta’en your part; to have so much to do 
+To bring him in! Trust me, I could do much,— 
+Oth, Prithee, no more: let him come when 
+
+
+he will; 
+
+
+Act III, Se. IL] 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+W11 
+
+
+I will deny thee nothing. 
+
+Des. Why, this is not a boon; 
+"Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves, 
+Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you 
+
+warm, 
+Or sue to you to do a peculiar profit 
+To your own person: nay, when I have a suit 
+Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed, 81 
+It shall be full of poise and difficult weight 
+And fearful to be granted. : 
+
+Oth. I will deny thee nothing: 
+Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this, 
+To leave me but a little to myself. 
+
+Des. Shall I deny you? no: farewell, my 
+
+lord. 
+
+Oth. Farewell, my Desdemona: I'l] come 
+
+to thee straight. 
+
+Des. Emilia, come. 
+
+teach you; 
+Whate’er you be, I am obedient. 
+[Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia. 
+
+Oth. Excellent wretch! Perdition catch 
+
+my soul, 
+But I do love thee! and when I love thee not, 
+Chaos is come aga’n. 
+
+Tago. My noble lord,— 
+
+Oth. What dost thou say, Iago? 
+
+Iago. Did Michael Cassio, when you woo'd 
+
+my lady, 
+Know of your love? 
+
+Oth. He did, from first to last: why dost 
+
+thou ask ? 
+
+Tago. But for a satisfaction of my thought; 
+No further harm. 
+
+Oth... Why of thy thought, Iago? 
+
+Iago. 1 did not think he had been ac- 
+
+quainted with her. 
+
+Oth. O, yes; and went between us very oft. 
+
+Tago. Indeed! 101] 
+
+Oth. Indeed! ay, indeed: discern'st thou 
+
+aught in that? 
+Is he not honest? 
+
+Tago. Honest, my lord! 
+
+Oth, Honest! ay, honest. 
+
+Tago. My lord, for aught I know. 
+
+Oth. What dost thou think? 
+
+Tago. Think, my lord! 
+
+Oth. Think my lord! 
+By heaven, he echoes me, 
+
+As if there were some monster in his thought 
+Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean 
+
+
+Be as your fancies 
+
+
+something: 
+I heard thee say even now, thou likedst not 
+that, 109 
+
+
+When Cassio left my wife: what didst not like? 
+
+And when I told thee he was of my counsel 
+
+In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst 
+“Indeed!’ 
+
+And didst contract and purse thy brow together, 
+
+
+As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain 
+Some horrible conceit: if thou dost love me, 
+Show me thy thought. 
+Tago. My lord, you know I love you. 
+Oth. I think thou dost; 
+And, for I know thou'rt full of love and 
+honesty, 
+And weigh'st thy words before thou givest 
+them breath, 
+Therefore these stops of thine fright me the 
+more: 120 
+For such things in a false disloyal knave 
+Are tricks of custom, but in a man that's just 
+They are close delations, working from the 
+heart 
+That passion cannot rule. 
+Tago. For Michael Cassio 
+I dare be sworn I think that he is honest. 
+Oth. I think so too. 
+Tago. Men should be what they seem; 
+Or those that be not, would they might seem 
+
+
+none! 
+
+Oth, Certain, men should be what they 
+seem. 
+
+Tago. Why, then, I think Cassio’s an hon- 
+est man. 
+
+
+Oth, Nay, yet there ’s more in this: 130 
+I prithee, speak to me as to thy thinkings, 
+As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of 
+
+
+thoughts 
+The worst of words. 
+Tago. Good my lord, pardon me: 
+
+
+Though I am bound to every act of duty, 
+
+I am not bound to that all slaves are free to. 
+
+Utter my thoughts? Why, say they are vile 
+and false; 
+
+As where ’s that palace whereinto foul things 
+
+Sometimes intrude not? who has a breast so 
+pure, 
+
+But some uncleanly apprehensions 
+
+Keep leets and law-days and in session sit 140 
+
+With meditations lawful ? 
+
+Oth. Thou dost conspire against thy friend, 
+
+
+Iago, 
+If thou but think’st him wrong’d and makest 
+
+
+his ear 
+A stranger to thy thoughts. 
+Tago. I do beseech you— 
+
+
+Though I perchance am vicious in my guess, 
+
+As, I confess, it is my nature’s plague 
+
+To spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy 
+
+Shapes faults that are not—that your wisdom 
+yet, ‘ 
+
+From one that so imperfectly conceits, 
+
+Would take no notice, nor build yourself a 
+trouble 150 
+
+Out of his scattering and unsure observance. 
+
+It were not for your quiet nor your good, 
+
+Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+[Acr IH, Sc. Hl 
+
+
+{112 
+To let you know my thoughts, 
+Oth. What dost thou mean? 
+Iago. Good name in man and woman, dear 
+my lord, 
+
+
+Is the immediate jewel of their souls: 
+Who steals my purse steals trash; 
+thing, nothing; 
+"Twas mine, ‘tis his, and has been slave to 
+thousands; 
+But he that filches from me my good name 
+Robs me of that whch not enriches him 160 
+And makes me poor indeed. 
+Oth. By heaven, I'll know thy thoughts. 
+Tago. You cannot, if my heart were in 
+your hand; 
+Nor shall not, whilst “tis in my custody. 
+
+Oth. Ha! 
+
+Tago. O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; 
+It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock 
+The meat it feeds on: that cuckold lives in 
+
+bliss 
+Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger; 
+But, O, what damned minutes tells he o'er 
+Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly 
+
+
+"tis some- 
+
+
+loves! 170 
+Oth. O misery! 
+Iago. Poor and content is rich and rich 
+
+
+enough, 
+But riches fineless is as poor as winter 
+To him that ever fears he shall be poor. 
+Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend 
+From jealousy! 
+Oth, Why, why is this? 
+Think’st thou I ‘ld make a life of jealousy, 
+To follow still the changes of the moon 
+With fresh suspicions? No; to be once in 
+doubt 
+Is once to be resolved: exchange me for a goat, 
+When I shall turn the business of my soul 181 
+To such exsufflicate and blown surmises, 
+Matching thy inference. "Tis not to make me 
+jealous 
+To say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves com- 
+pany, 
+Is free-of speech, since; plays and dances well; 
+Where virtue is, these are more virtuous: 
+Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw 
+The smallest fear or doubt of her revolt; 
+For she had eyes, and chose me. No, lago; 
+I'll see before T doubt; when I doubt, prove; 
+And on the proof, Hein is no more but this,— 
+Away at once with love or jealousy! 
+Tago. I am glad of it; for now I shall 
+have reason 
+To show the love and duty that I bear you 
+With franker spirit: therefore, as I am bound, 
+Receive it from me. I speak not yet of proof. 
+Look to your wife; observe her well with 
+Cassio: 
+
+
+Wear your eye thus, not jealous nor secures. 
+I would not have your free and noble nature, 
+Out of self-bounty, be abused; look to "t: 200 
+1 know our country disposition well; 
+
+In Venice they do let heaven see the pranks 
+They dare not show their husbands; their best 
+
+conscience 
+Is not to leave ’t undone, but keep ’t unknown. 
+Oth. Dost thou say so? 
+
+
+Iago. She did deceive her father, marrying 
+you; 
+And when she seem'd to shake and fear your 
+looks, 
+She loved them most. 
+Oth. And so she did. 
+Tago. Why, go to then; 
+She that, so young, could give out such a 
+seeming, 
+
+
+To seel her father’s eyes up close as oak— 
+
+He thought ‘twas witchcraft—but I am much 
+to blame; 
+
+I humbly do beseech you of your pardon 
+
+For too much loving you. 
+
+Oth. I am bound to thee for ever. 
+
+Tago. 1 see this hatha little dash’d your 
+
+spirits. 
+
+Oth. Not a jot, not a jot. 
+
+Tago. I’ faith, I fear it has. 
+I hope you will consider what is spoke 
+Comes from my love. But I do see you're 
+
+moved: 
+I am to pray you not to strain my speech 
+To grosser issues nor to larger reach 
+Than to suspfeion. yet 2) 
+
+Oth. I will not. . 
+
+Tago. Should you do so, my lord, 
+My speech should fall into such vile success 
+As my thoughts aim not at. Cassio’s my 
+
+worthy friend— 
+My lord, I see you ‘re moved. 
+
+Oth. No, not much moved: 
+I do not think but Desdemona’s honest. 
+
+
+Iago. Long live she so! and long live you 
+to think so! 
+
+Oth. And yet, how nature erring from 
+itself, — 
+
+Tago. Ay, there's the point: as—to be 
+bold with you— 
+
+
+Not to affect many proposed matches 
+Of her own clime, complexion, and degree, _ 
+Whereto we see in all things nature tends— 
+Foh! one may smell in such a will most rank, 
+Foul disproportion, thoughts unnatural. 
+But pardon me; I do not in position 
+Distinctly speak of her; though I may fear 
+Her will, recoiling to her better judgement, 
+May fall to match you with her country forms 
+And happily repent. 
+Oth. Farewell, farewell: 
+
+
+sai, chet Meals 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+vo. 
+
+
+Act Ill, 
+
+
+s 
+
+
+__ Set on thy wife to observe: leave me, Iago. 
+
+
+; 
+‘4 
+
+
+: 
+
+
+Se. IIT] 
+
+
+If more thou dost perceive, let me know more; 
+
+
+_ f Lago. [Coing] My lord, I take my leave. 
+Oth. Why did I marry? This honest 
+creature doubtless 
+Sees and knows more, much more, than he 
+bos unfolds. 
+ago. [Returning] My lord, I would | 
+might entreat your honour 
+To scan this thing no further: leave it to time: 
+Though it be fit that Cassio have his place, 
+For, sure, he fills it up with great ability, 
+Yet, if you please to hold him off awhile, 
+You shall by that perceive him and his means: 
+Note, if your lady strain his entertainment 250 
+With any strong or vehement importunity ; 
+Much will be seen in that. In the mean time, 
+Let me be thought too busy in my fears— 
+As worthy cause I have to fear | am— 
+And hold her free, I do beseech your honour. 
+Oth. Fear not my government. 
+
+Tago, 1 once more take my leave. [Exit. 
+Oth. This fellow’s of exceeding honesty, 
+And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit, 
+Of human dealings. If I do prove her haggard, 
+Though that her jesses were my dear heart- 
+
+strings, 261 
+I'ld whistle her off and let her down the wind, 
+To prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black 
+And have not those soft parts of conversation 
+That chamberers have, or for I am declined 
+Into the vale of years,—yet that's not much— 
+She's gone. I am abused; and my relief 
+Must be to loathe her. O curse of marriage, 
+That we can call these delicate creatures ours, 
+And not their appetites! I had rather be a 
+
+toad, 270 
+
+
+_ And live upon the vapour of a dungeon, 
+
+
+Than keep a corner in the thing I love 
+
+For others’ uses. Yet, ‘tis the plague of great 
+} ones; 
+
+Prerogatived are they less than the base; 
+
+‘Tis destiny unshunnable, like death: 
+
+Even then this forked plague is fated to us 
+
+When we do quicken. Desdemona comes: 
+
+
+Re-enter DESDEMONA and Emitia. 
+
+
+If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself! 
+
+
+I'll not believe 't. 
+
+Des, How now, my dear Othello! 
+Your dinner, and the generous islanders 280 
+By you invited, do attend your presence. 
+
+Oth. I am to blame. 
+
+Des. Why do you speak so faintly? 
+Are you not well? 
+
+Oth. I have a pain upon my forehead here. 
+
+Des, ‘Faith, that’s with watching; ‘twill 
+
+away again: 
+Let me but bind it hard, within this hour 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+1113 
+
+
+It will be well. 
+Oth. Your napkin is too little: 
+[He puts the handkerchief from him; and 
+it drops, 
+Let it alone. Come, I'll go in with you. 
+Des, I am very sorry that you are not well, 
+[Exeunt Oihello and Desdemona. 
+Emil. 1 am glad I have found this napkin: 
+This was her first remembrance from the Moor: 
+My wayward husband hath a hundred times 
+oo'd me to steal it; but she so loves the 
+token, 
+For he conjured her she should ever keep it, 
+That she reserves it evermore about her 
+To kiss and talk to. I'll have the work ta’en 
+out, 
+And give ’t Iago: what he will do with it 
+Heaven knows, not I; 
+I nothing but to please his fantasy. 
+
+
+Re-enter aco, 
+
+
+Iago. How now! what do you here alone? 
+Emil. Do not you chide; I have a thing 
+
+
+for you. 301 
+Jago. A thing for me? it is a common 
+thing— 
+Emil. Ha! 
+
+
+Iago. To have a foolish wife. 
+Emil. O, is that all? What will you give 
+me now 
+For that same handkerchief ? 
+Tago. What handkerchief ? 
+Emil. What handkerchief ! 
+Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona; 
+That which so often you did bid me steal. 
+Iago. Hast stol’n it from her? 310 
+Emil. No, ‘faith; she let it drop by negli- 
+gence, 
+And, to the advantage, I, being here, took 't 
+
+
+up. 
+Look, here it is, 
+Tago. . A good wench; give it me. 
+Emil. What will you do with ’t, that you 
+have been so earnest 
+To have me filch it? 
+Tago. [Snatching it] Why, what's that to 
+you? 
+Emil. If it be not for some purpose of 
+import, 
+Give ‘t me again: poor lady, she Il run mad 
+When she shall lack it. 
+Tago. Be not acknown on’t; I have use 
+for it. 
+Go, leave me. [2xit Emilia. 320 
+I will in Cassio’s lodging lose this napkin, 
+And let him find it. Trifles light as air 
+Are to the jealous confirmations strong 
+As proofs of holy writ: this may do something. 
+The Moor already changes with my poison: 
+
+
+1114 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+[Acr III, Sc. II} 
+
+
+Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, 
+poisons, 
+
+Which at the first are scarce found to distaste, 
+
+But with a little act upon the blood, 
+
+Burn like the mines of sulphur. I did say so: 
+
+Look, where he comes! 
+
+
+Re-enter OTHELLO, 
+
+
+Not poppy, nor mandragora, 330 
+Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, 
+Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep 
+Which thou owedst yesterday. 
+
+Oth. Ha! ha! false to me? 
+
+Iago. Why, how now, general! no more 
+
+of that. 
+
+Oth. Avaunt! be gone! thou hast set me 
+
+on the rack: 
+I swear ‘tis better to be much abused 
+Than but to know 't a little. 
+Tago. How now, my lord! 
+Oth. What sense had I of her stol’n hours 
+of lust? 
+I saw 't not, thought it not, it harm’d not me: 
+I slept the next night well, was free and merry ; 
+I found not Cassic’s kisses on her lips: 341 
+He that is robb’d, not wanting what is stol’n, 
+Let him not know 't, and he’s not robb'd at all. 
+
+Iago. I am sorry to hear this. 
+
+Oth. Ihad been happy, if the general camp, 
+Pioners and all, had tasted her sweet body, 
+So I had nothing known. O, now, for ever 
+Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content! 
+Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, 
+That make ambition virtue! O, farewell! 350 
+Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill 
+
+trump, 
+The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, 
+The royal banner, and all quality, 
+Pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war! 
+And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats 
+The immortal Jove’s dread clamours counter- 
+feit, 
+Farewell! Othello’s occupation 's gone! 
+lago. Is't possible, my lord? 
+Oth. - Villain, be sure thou prove my love a 
+whore, 
+Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof; 360 
+Or, by the worth of man’s efernal soul; 
+Thou hadst been better have been born a dog 
+Than answer my waked wrath! 
+Tago. Is *t come to this? 
+Oth. Make me to see‘t; or, at the least, so 
+prove it, 
+That the probation bear no hinge nor loop 
+To hang a doubt on; or woe upon thy life! 
+
+Iago. My noble lord,— 
+
+Oth. If thou dost slander her and torture me, 
+Never pray more; abandon all remorse; 
+
+On horror’s head horrors accumulate; 370 
+
+
+Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth 
+amazed; 
+
+For nothing canst thou to damnation add 
+
+Greater than that. 
+Tago. O grace! O heaven forgive me! 
+Are you a man? have you a soul or sense? 
+God is “ you; take mine office. O wretched 
+ool, 
+
+That livest to make thine honesty a vice! 
+
+O monstrous world! Take note, take note, O 
+world, 
+
+To be direct and honest is not safe. 
+
+I thank you for this profit; and from hence 
+
+I'll love no friend, sith love breeds such 
+offence. 
+
+Oth. Nay, stay: thou shouldst be honest. 
+
+Tago. 1 should be wise, for honesty ’s a fool 
+And loses that it works for. : 
+
+Oth. By the world, 
+
+I think my wife be honest and think she is not; 
+I think that thou art just and think thou art 
+not. 
+I'll have some proof. Her name, that was as 
+fresh 
+As Dian’s visage, is now begrimed and black 
+As mine own face. If there be cords, or knives, 
+Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams, 
+I ‘ll not endure it. Would I were satisfied! 
+Tago. I see, sir, you are eaten up with 
+passion: 
+I do repent me that I put it to you. 
+You would be satisfied? 
+Oth. Would! nay, I will. 
+Iago. And may: but, how? how satisfied, 
+my lord? 
+Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on— 
+Behold her topp'd? 
+
+Oth. Death and damnation! O! 
+
+Iago. It were a tedious difficulty, I think, 
+To bring them to that prospect: damn them 
+
+then, 
+If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster 
+More than their own! What then? how then? 
+What shall I say? Where's satisfaction? 401 
+It is impossible you should see this, 
+Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys, 
+As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross 
+As ignorance made drunk. But yet, I say, 
+If imputation and strong circumstances, 
+Which lead directly to the door of truth, 
+Will give you satisfaction, you may have 't. 
+
+Oth. Give me a living reason she’s disloyal. 
+
+Iago. 1 do not like the office: 41¢ 
+But, sith, I am enter’d in this cause so far, 
+Prick’d to’t by foolish honesty and love, 
+
+I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately; 
+And, being troubled with a raging tooth, 
+I could not sleep. 
+
+There are a kind of men so loose of soul, 
+
+
+a re 
+
+
+Act Il, Sc. IV] 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+_ That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs: 
+
+' One of this kind is Cassio: 
+
+_ In sleep I -heard him say ‘Sweet Desdemona, 
+Let us be wary, let us hide our loves;’ 420 
+ae ar Woald he gripe and wring my 
+
+and, <2 
+Cry ‘O sweet creature!’ and then kiss me 
+hard, 
+
+\ As if he pluck'd up kisses by the roots 
+
+_\ That grew upon my lips; then laid his leg 
+
+\ Over my thigh, and sigh’d, and kiss’d; and 
+
+then 
+
+(Cried ‘Cursed fate that gave thee to the Moor!’ 
+
+Oth. O monstrous! monstrous! 
+
+Tago. Nay, this was but his dream. 
+
+Oth. But this denoted a foregone conclusion: 
+"Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream. 
+
+Tago. And this may help to thicken other 
+
+proofs 430 
+
+That do demonstrate thinly. 
+
+Oth. I'll tear her all to pieces. 
+
+Tago. Nay, but be wise: yet we see noth- 
+
+ing done; 
+
+She may be honest yet. Tell me but this, 
+
+| Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief 
+
+\ Spotted with strawberries in your wife’s hand? 
+
+| Oth. I gave her such a one; ‘twas my 
+
+first gift. 
+
+Tago. 1 know not that: but such a hand- 
+
+kerchief— 
+I am sure it was your wife’s—did I to-day 
+
+See Cassio wipe his beard with. 
+
+Oth. If it be that,— 
+
+Tago. If it be that, or any that was hers, 
+It speaks against her with the other proofs. 
+
+' Oth. O, that the slave had forty thousand 
+lives! 
+
+One is too poor, too weak for my revenge. 
+
+Now do I see ‘tis true. Look here, Iago; 
+
+All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven. 
+
+‘Tis gone. 
+
+Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow cell! 
+
+Yield up,-O love, thy crown and hearted throne 
+
+To tyrannous hate! Swell, bosom, with thy 
+
+fraught, 
+
+For ‘tis of aspics’ tongues! 
+
+Tago. Yet be content. 
+
+Oth. O, blood, blood, blood! 
+
+Tago. Patience, I say, your mind perhaps 
+
+may change. 
+
+Oth. Never, Iago. Like to the Pontic sea, 
+Whose icy current and compulsive course 
+Ne’er: feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on 
+To the Propentic and the Hellespont, 
+
+Even so my bloody thoughts, w.th violent pace, 
+
+Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love, 
+
+Till that a capable and wide revenge 
+Swallow them up. Now, by yond marble 
+heaven, 460 
+
+
+450 
+
+
+1115 
+[Kneels] In the due reverence of a sacrea 
+vow 
+I here engage my words. 
+Tago. Do not rise yet. 
+
+
+[Kneels] Witness, you ever-burning light 
+above, 
+
+You elements that clip us round about, 
+
+Witness that here Iago doth give up 
+
+The execution of his wit, hands, heart, 
+
+To wrong’d Othello’s service! Let him com- 
+mand, 
+
+And to obey shall be in me remorse, 
+
+What bloody business ever. [They rise. 
+Oth. I greet thy love, 
+Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance 
+
+bounteous, 470 
+And will upon the instant put thee to’t: 
+Within these three days let me hear thee say 
+That Cassio 's not alive. 
+
+Tago. My friend is dead; ‘tis done at your 
+
+request: 
+But let her live. 
+
+Oth. Damn her, lewd minx! O, damn her! 
+Come, go with me apart; | will withdraw, 
+To furnish me with some swift means of death 
+For the fair devil. Now art thou my lieu- 
+
+tenant. 
+
+
+Tago. 1 am your own for ever. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene IV. Before the casile. 
+Enter DespemMona, Emitia, and Clown. 
+Des. Do you know, sirrah, where Lieu- 
+tenant Cassio lies? 
+
+Clo. I dare not say he lies any where. 
+
+Des. Why, man? 
+
+Clo. He's a soldier, and for one to say a 
+soldier lies, is stabbing. 
+
+Des. Go to: where lodges he? 
+
+Clo. To tell you where he lodges, is to 
+tell you where I lie. 
+
+Des. Can any thing be made of this? 10 
+
+Clo. I know not where he lodges, and for 
+me to devise a lodging and say he lies here or 
+he lies there, were to lie in mine own throat. 
+
+Des. Can you inquire him out, and be 
+edified by report? 
+
+Clo. I will catechize the world for him; 
+that is, make questions, and by them answer. 
+
+Des. Seek him, bid him come hither: tell 
+him I have moved my lord on his behalf, and 
+hope all will be well. 20 
+
+Clo, To do this is within the compass of 
+man’s wit; and therefore I will attempt the 
+doing it. [Exit. 
+
+Des. Where should I lose that handker- 
+
+chief, Emilia? 
+Emil. 1 know not, madam. 
+Des. Believe me, I had rather have lost 
+my purse 
+
+
+1116 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+fee 
+
+
+[Acr Ill, Sc. IV 
+
+
+I 
+
+
+Full of crusadoes: and, but my noble Moor 
+Is true of mind and made of no such baseness 
+As jealous creatures are, it were enough 
+To put him to ill thinking. 
+
+Emil. Is he not jealous? 
+. Who, he? I think the sun where he 
+
+was born 30 
+
+Drew all such humours from him. 
+
+Emil. Look, where he comes. 
+
+Des. I will not leave him now till Cassio 
+
+
+Be call’d to him. 
+Enter OTHELLO. 
+
+
+How is’t with you, my lord? 
+Oth. Well, my good lady. [Aside] O, 
+hardness to dissemble!— 
+How do you, Desdemona ? 
+Des. Well, my good lord. 
+Oth. Give me your hand: this hand is 
+moist, my lady. 
+
+
+Des. It yet hath felt no age nor known 
+no sorrow. 
+
+Oth. This argues fruitfulness and liberal 
+heart: 
+
+
+Hot, hot, and moist: this hand of yours requires 
+A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer, 
+Much castigation, exercise devout; 
+For here's a young and sweating devil here, 
+That commonly rebels. “Tis a good hand, 
+A frank one. 
+Des. You may, indeed, say so; 
+For ‘twas that hand that gave away my heart. 
+Oth. A liberal hand: the hearts of old 
+gave hands; 
+But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts. 
+Des. 1 cannot speak of this. Come now, 
+your promise. 
+Oth. What promise, chuck? 
+Des. I have sent to bid Cassio come speak 
+with you. 
+
+
+Oth. I have a salt and sorry rheum offends 
+me; 
+Lend me thy handkerchief, 
+Des Here, my lord. 
+
+
+. That which I gave you. 
+I have it not about me. 
+
+
+Oth. Not? 
+Des No, indeed, my lord. 
+Oth. That is a fault. 
+
+
+That handkerchief 
+
+Did an Egyptian to my mother give; 
+
+She was a charmer, and could almost read 
+
+The thoughts of people: she told her, while 
+she kept it, 
+
+"Twould make her amiable and subdue my 
+father 
+
+Entirely to her love, but if she lost it 60 
+
+Or made a gift of it, my father’s eye 
+
+
+Should hold her loathed and his spirits should 
+hunt 
+
+After new fancies: she, dying, gave it me; 
+
+And bid me, when my fate would have mo 
+wive, 
+
+To give it her. I did so: and take heed on 't; 
+
+Make it a darling like your precious eye; 
+
+To lose 't or give ’t away were such perdition 
+
+As nothing else could match. 
+
+
+Des. Is "t possible? 
+Oth. "Tis true: there’s magic in the web 
+of it: 
+
+
+A sibyl, that had number'd in the world 70 
+The sun to course two hundred compasses, 
+In her prophetic fury sew'd the work; 
+The worms were hallow'd that did breed the 
+silk; 
+And it was dyed in mummy which the skilful 
+Conserved of maidens’ hearts. 
+Des. Indeed! is 't true? 
+Oth. Most veritable; therefore look to ‘t well. 
+Des. Then would to God that I had never 
+seen 't! 
+
+
+Oth. Ha! wherefore? 
+
+
+Des. Why do you speak so startingly and 
+rash ? 
+Oth. Ist lost? ist gone? speak, is it out 
+
+
+o’ the way? 
+
+
+Des. Heaven bless us! 
+
+Oth. Say you? 
+
+Des. It is not lost; but what an if it were? 
+
+Oth. How! 
+
+Des, I say, it is not lost. 
+
+Oth. Fetch "t, let_me_see"t. 
+
+Des. Why, 80 I can, sir, but I will not 
+now. 
+
+
+This is a trick to put me from my suit: 
+Pray you, let Cassio be received again. 
+
+Oth. Fetch me the handkerchief: my mind 
+
+misgives. 
+
+Des. Come, come; 90 
+You ‘ll never meet a more sufficient man. 
+
+Oth. The handkerchief! 
+
+Des. I pray, talk me of Cassio. 
+
+Oth. The handkerchief! 
+
+Des. A man that all his time 
+Hath founded his good fortunes on your love, 
+Shared dangers with you,— 
+
+Oth. The handkerchief! 
+
+
+Des. In sooth, you are to blame. 
+
+Oth. Away! [Exit, 
+Emil, Is_not this man_jealous ? 
+
+Des. 1 ne'er saw this before. 100 
+
+
+Sure, there "s some wonder in this handkerchief: 
+I am most unhappy in the loss of it. 
+Emil, ’Tis not a year or two shows us a 
+man: 
+They are all but stomachs, and we all but food; 
+They eat us hungerly, and when they are full, 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+j 
+) 
+
+
+j 
+7 
+’ 
+q 
+; 
+: 
+, 
+
+
+~ So shall I clothe me in a forced content, 
+
+
+Act Ill, Se. IV] 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+1117 
+
+
+They belch us. 
+husband! 
+
+
+Enter Cassio and Jaco. 
+
+
+Tago. There is no other way; ‘tis she must 
+do 't: 
+And, lo, the happiness! go, and importune her. 
+Des. How now, good Cassio! what's the 
+news with you? 
+Cas. Madam, my former suit: I do be- 
+seech you 110 
+That by your virtuous means I may again 
+Exist, and be a member of his love 
+Whom I with all the office of my heart 
+Entirely honour: I would not be delay'd. 
+If my offence be of such mortal kind 
+That nor my service past, nor present sorrows, 
+Nor purposed merit in futurity, 
+Can ransom me into his love again, 
+But to know so must be my benefit; br 
+0 
+And shut myself up in some other course, 
+To fortune’s alms. 
+Des. Alas, thrice-gentle Cassio! 
+My advocation is not now in tune; 
+My lord is not my lord; nor should I know 
+him, 
+Were he in favour as in humour alter’d. 
+So help me every spirit sanctified, 
+As I have spoken for you all my best 
+And stood within the blank of his displeasure 
+For my free speech! you must awhile be 
+patient: 
+What I can do I will; and more I will 130 
+Than for myself I dare: let that suffice you. 
+Tago. Is my lord angry? 
+Emil. He went hence but now, 
+And certainly in strange unquietness. 
+Tago. Can he be angry? I have seen the 
+cannon, 
+When it hath blown his ranks into the air, 
+And, like the devil, frem his very arm 
+Puff'd his own brother :—and can he be angry? 
+Something of moment then: I will go meet him: 
+There ’s matter in 't indeed, if he be angry. 
+Des. I prithee, do so. [Exit lago. 
+Something, sure, of state, 
+Either from Venice, or some unhatch’d prac- 
+tice 
+Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him, 
+Hath puddled his clear spirit; and in such cases 
+Men's natures wrangle with inferior things, 
+Though great ones are their object. "Tis 
+even so; 
+For let our finger ache, and it indues 
+Our other healthful members even to that sense 
+Of pain: nay, we must think men are not gods, 
+Nor of them look for such observances 
+
+
+As fit the bridal. Beshrew me much, Emilia, 
+
+
+Look you, Cassio and my |I was, unhandsome warrior as I am, 15] 
+
+
+Arraigning his unkindness with my soul; 
+But now I find I had suborn’d the witness, 
+And he’s indicted falsely. 
+Emil. Pray heaven it be state-matters, as 
+you think, 
+And no conception nor no jealous toy 
+Concerning you. 
+Des, Alas the day! I never gave him cause. 
+Emil. But jealous souls will not be an- 
+swer'd so; 
+They are not ever jealous for the cause, 160 
+But jealous for they are jealous: ’tis a monster 
+Begot upon itself, born on itself. 
+
+
+Des. Heaven keep that monster from 
+Othello’s mind! 
+
+Emil. Lady, amen. 
+
+Des. I will go seek him. Cassio, walk 
+here about: 
+
+
+If I do find him fit, Ill move your suit 
+And seek to effect it to my uttermost. 
+Cas. I humbly thank your ladyship. 
+[Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia. 
+
+
+Enter BIANca. 
+
+
+Bian. Save you, friend Cassio! 
+
+Cas. What make you from home? 
+How is it with you, my most fair Bianca? 170 
+I’ faith, sweet love, I was coming to your house. 
+
+
+Bian. And I was going to your lodging, 
+Cassio. 
+
+What, keep a week away? seven days and 
+nights ? 
+
+Eight score eight hours? and lovers’ absent 
+hours, 
+
+
+More tedious than the dial eight score times? 
+O hee! reckoning! 
+Pardon me, Bianca: 
+I Have this while with leaden thoughts been 
+press’d; 
+But I shall, in a more continuate time, 
+Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca, 
+[Giving her Desdemona’s handkerchief. 
+Take me this work out. 
+
+Bian. O Cassio, whence came this? 180 
+This is some token from a newer friend: 
+To the felt absence now I feel a cause: 
+
+Ist come to this? Well, well. 
+
+Cas, Go to, woman! 
+Throw your vile guesses in the devil’s teeth, 
+From whence you have them. You are 
+
+jealous now 
+That this is from some mistress, some re- 
+
+
+membrance: 
+No, in good troth, Bianca. 
+Bian. Why, whose is it? 
+Cas. I know not, sweet: I found it in my 
+
+
+chamber. 
+
+
+I like the work well: ere it be demanded— 
+
+
+1118 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+As like enough it will—I ‘Id have it copied: | But they must blab— 
+
+
+Take it, and dot; and leave me for this time. 
+Bian, Leave you! wherefore? 
+Cas. I do attend here on the general; 
+And think it no addition, nor my wish, 
+To have him see me woman ‘d 
+Bian. Why, I pray you? 
+Cas, Not that I love you not. 
+Bian. But that you do not love me. 
+I pray you, bring me on the way a little, 
+And say if I shall see you soon at night. 
+Cas. ‘Tis but a little way that I can bring 
+you; 
+For | attend here: but I ‘Il see you soon. 200 
+Bian. "Tis very good; | must be circum- 
+stanced. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT IV. 
+
+
+Scene I. Cyprus. Before the castle. 
+Enter OTHELLO and Iaco. 
+
+
+Tago. Will you think so? 
+
+Oth, Think so, Iago! 
+
+Tago. What, 
+To kiss in private? 
+
+Oth. An unauthorized kiss. 
+
+Iago. Or to be naked with her friend in bed 
+
+
+An hour or more, not meaning any harm? 
+Oth. Naked in bed, Iago, and not mean 
+harm! 
+It is hypocrisy against the devil: 
+They that mean virtuously, and yet do so, 
+The devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt 
+
+
+heaven. 
+Iago. So they do nothing, ‘tis a venial slip: 
+But*if I give my wife a handkerchief— 10 
+
+
+Oth. What then? 
+Iago. Why, then, ‘tis hers, my lord; and, 
+being hers, 
+She may, I think, bestow ‘t on any man. 
+Oth. She is protectress of her honour too: 
+May she give that? 
+Iago. Her honour is an essence that's not 
+seen; 
+They have it very oft that have it not: 
+But, for the handkerchief,— 
+Oth. By heaven, I would most gladly have 
+forgot it. 
+Thou said’st—O, it comes o'er my memory, 
+As doth the raven o’er the infected house, 
+Boding to all—he had my handkerchief. 
+
+
+Iago. Ay, what of that? 
+Oth, That's not so good now. 
+lago. What, 
+
+
+If I ea said I had seen him do you wrong? 
+Or heard him say,—as knaves be such abroad, 
+Who having, by their own importunate suit, 
+Or voluntary dotage of some mistress, 
+Convinced or supplied them, cannot choose 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc. 1 
+Oth. Hath he said any thing? 
+Tago. He hath, my lord; but be you well 
+assured, 30 
+No more than he ’ll unswear. 
+Oth. What hath he said? 
+Iago. ‘Faith, that he did—I know not what 
+he did. 
+Oth. What? what? 
+Tago. Lie— 
+Oth. With her? 
+Tago. With her, on her; what you will. 
+Oth. Lie with her! lie on her! We say lie 
+
+
+on her, when they belie her. Lie with her! 
+that’s fulsome.—Handkerchief—confessions— 
+handkerchief !—To confess, and be hanged for 
+his labour;—first, to be hanged, and then to 
+confess——I tremble at it. Nature would not 
+invest herself in such shadowing passion with- 
+out some instruction. It is not words that 
+shake me thus. Pish! Noses, ears, and lips.— 
+Is 't possible? — Confess — handkerchief !—O 
+
+
+devil! [Falls in a trance. 
+Iago. Work on, 
+My medicine, work! Thus credulous fools 
+are caught; 
+
+
+And many worthy and chaste dames even thus, 
+
+All mee meet reproach. What, ho! my 
+ord! 
+
+My lord, I say! Othello! 
+
+
+Enter Cassio, 
+
+
+How now, Cassio! 
+Cas. What's.the matter? 50 
+Iago. My lord is fall’n into an epilepsy: 
+This is his second fit; he had one yesterday. 
+Cas. Rub him about the temples. 
+Tago. No, forbear; 
+The lethargy must have his quiet course: 
+If not, he foams at mouth and by and by 
+Breaks out to savage madness. Look, he stirs: 
+Do you withdraw yourself a little while, 
+He will recover straight: when he is gone, 
+I would on great occasion speak with you. 
+[Exit Cassio 
+How is it, general? have you not hurt your 
+head ? 
+Oth. Dost thou mock me? 
+
+
+lago. I mock you! no, by heaven. 
+Would you would bear your fortune like a 
+man! 
+Oth. A horned man's a monster and a 
+beast. 
+Tago. There's many a beast then in a 
+
+
+populous city, 
+And many a civil monster. 
+Oth. Did he confess it? 
+Tago. Good sir, be a man; 
+Think every bearded fellow that's but yoked 
+
+
+y 
+
+
+oF ? a 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. I] 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+1119 
+
+
+May draw with you: there 's millions now alive 
+That nightly lie in those unproper beds 
+Which they dare swear peculiar: your case 7 
+
+better. 
+O, ‘tis the spite of hell, the fiend’s arch- aes 
+To lip a wanton in a secure couch, 
+And to suppose her chaste! No, let me know; 
+And knowing what I am, I know what she 
+
+shall be. 
+
+a O, thou art wise; ‘tis certain. 
+Stand you awhile apart; 
+
+Confne yourself but in a patient list. 
+
+ilst you were here o’erwhelmed with your 
+
+grief— 
+A passion most unsuiting such a man— 
+Cassio came hither: I shifted hm away, 
+And laid good 'scuse upon your ecstasy, 80 
+Bade him anon return and here speak with me; 
+The which he promised. Do but encave your- 
+
+
+seit, 
+And mark the fleers, the gibes, and notable 
+scorns, 
+That dwell in every region of his face; 
+For I will make him tell the tale anew, 
+Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when 
+He hath, and is again to cope your wife: 
+I say, but mark his gesture. Marry, patience; 
+Or I shall say you are all in all in spleen, 
+And nothing of a man. 
+O Dost thou hear, Iago? 90 
+Eiwill’be found most cunning in my patience; 
+But—dost thou hear?—most bloody. 
+Tago. That's not amiss; 
+But yet keep time in all. Will you withdraw? 
+[Othello retires. 
+Now will I question Cassio of Bianca, 
+
+
+_A housewife that by selling her desires 
+
+
+Buys herself bread and clothes: it is a creature 
+
+That dotes on Cassio; as ‘tis the strumpet’s 
+plague 
+
+To beguile many and be beguiled by one: 
+
+He, when he hears of her, cannot refrain 
+
+From the excess of laughter. Here he comes: 
+
+
+Re-enter Cassio. 
+As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad; 
+
+
+And his unbookish jealousy must construe 
+Poor Cassio’s smiles, gestures and light be- 
+
+
+101 
+
+
+haviour, 
+Quite in the wrong. How do you now, lieu- 
+
+tenant? 
+Cas. The worser that you give me the 
+
+addition 
+
+
+Whose want even kills me. 
+Tago. Ply Desdemona well, 
+sure ont. 
+[Speaking lower] Now, if this suit lay in 
+ianca’s power, 
+
+
+How quickly should you speed! ’ 
+
+
+and you are 
+
+
+Cas. Alas, poor caitiff! 
+Oth, Look, how he laughs already! 110 
+Tago. I never knew woman love man so. 
+
+Cas. Alas, poor rogue! | think, i’ faith, she 
+
+
+loves me. 
+
+Oth. Now he denies it faintly, and laughs 
+it out. 
+
+Iago. Do you hear, Cassio? 
+
+
+Oth. Now he importunes him 
+To tell it o'er: go to; well said, well said. 
+So She gives it out that you shall marry 
+er: 
+Do you er it? 
+
+
+Cas. ha, ha! 120 
+Oth. De you triumph, Roman? do you 
+triumph ? 
+
+
+Cas. I marry her! what? a customer! Pri- 
+thee, bear some charity to my wit; se not 
+think it so unwholesome. Ha, ha, h 
+
+Oth, So, so, so, so: they laugh ne win. 
+
+
+Tago. ‘Faith, the cry goes that you shall 
+marry her. 
+
+Cas. Prithee, say true. 
+
+Tago. I am a very villain else. 
+
+
+Oth. Have you scored me? Well. 130 
+
+Cas. This is the monkey’s own giving out: _ 
+she is persuaded I will marry her, out of her 
+own love and flattery, not out of my promise. 
+
+
+Oth. Iago beckons me; now he begins the 
+story. 
+Cas. She was here even now; she haunts 
+
+
+me in every place. I was the other day talking 
+on the sea-bank with certain Venetians; and 
+thither comes the bauble, and, by this hand, 
+she falls me thus about my neck— 140 
+
+Oth, Crying ‘O dear Cassio!” as it were: 
+his gesture imports it. 
+
+Cas. So hangs, and lolls, and weeps upon 
+me; so hales, and pulls me: ha, ha, ha! 
+
+Oth. Now he tells how she plucked him to 
+my chamber. O, I see that nose of yours, 
+but not that dog I shall throw it to. 
+
+
+Cas. Well, I must leave her company. 
+Iago. Before me! look, where she comes. 
+Cas. 
+
+
+‘Tis such another fitchew! marry, a 
+perfumed one. 1 
+
+
+Enter Bianca. 
+
+
+What do you mean by this haunting of me? 
+
+Bian. Let the devil and his dam haunt 
+you! What did you mean by that same Hand- 
+kerchief you gave me even now? I was-a fine 
+fool to take it. I must take out the work ?— 
+A likely piece of work, that you should find it 
+in your chamber, and not know who left it 
+there? This is some minx’s token, and | mus! 
+take out the work? There; give it your 
+hobby-horse: wheresoever you had it, I'll take 
+out no work on’t. 161 
+
+
+1420 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+as .."3 LTA ae 
+
+
+pe 
+
+
+Cas. How now, my sweet Bianca! how 
+now! how now! 
+
+Oth. By heaven, that should be my hand- 
+kerchief ! 
+
+Bian. An you'll come to supper to-night, 
+you may; an you will not, come when you 
+are next prepared for. [Exit. 
+
+Iago. After her, after her. 
+
+Cas, ‘Faith, 1 must; she'll rail in the 
+street else. 171 
+
+Tago. Will you sup there? 
+
+Cas. ‘Faith, I intend so. 
+
+Iago. Well, I may chance to see you; for 
+I would very fain speak with you. 
+
+Cas. Prithee, come; will you? 
+
+Iago. Go to; say no more. [Exit Cassio. 
+
+Oth. [Advancing] How shall I murder 
+him, Iago? 
+
+Iago. Did you perceive how he laughed at 
+his vice? 181] 
+
+Oth. O Iago! 
+
+Iago. And did you see the handkerchief ? 
+
+Oth. Was that mine? 
+
+Iago. Yours, by this hand: and to see how 
+he prizes the foolish woman your wife! 
+she gave it him, and he hath given it his 
+whore. 
+
+Oth. 1 would have him nine years a- 
+killing. A fine woman! a fair woman! a 
+sweet woman! 
+
+Iago. Nay, you must forget that. 190 
+
+Oth. Ay, let her rot, and perish, and be 
+damned to-night; for she shall not live: no, 
+my heart is turned to stone; I strike it, and it 
+hurts my hand. O, the world hath not a 
+sweeter creature: she might lie by an em- 
+peror’s side and command him tasks. 
+
+Tago. Nay, that’s not your way. 
+
+Oth. Hang her! I do but say what she is: 
+so delicate with her needle: an admirable 
+musician: O! she will sing the savageness out 
+of a bear: of so high and plenteous wit and 
+invention :— 201 
+
+Tago. She’s the worse for all this. 
+
+Oth. ©, a thousand thousand times: and 
+then, of so gentle a condition! 
+
+Iago. Ay, too gentle. 
+
+Oth. Nay, that’s certain: but yet the pity 
+of it, Iago! O Iago, the pity of it, Iago! 
+
+Iago. If you are so fond over her iniquity, 
+give her patent to offend; for, if it touch not 
+you, it comes near nobody. 210 
+
+
+Oth. I will chop her into messes: cuckold 
+me! 
+
+Tago. O, ‘tis foul in her. 
+
+Oth. With mine officer! 
+
+
+Tago. That's fouler. 
+Oth. Get me some poison, Iago; this night: 
+ITI not expostulate with her, lest her body 
+
+
+and beauty unprovide my mind again: this 
+night, lago. 219 
+Iago. Do it not with poison, strangle her in 
+her bed, even the bed she hath contaminated. 
+Oth. Good, good: the justice of it pleases: 
+very good. 
+Tago. And for Cassio, let me be his under- 
+taker: you shall hear more by midnight. 
+Oth. Excellent good. [A trumpet within.] 
+What trumpet is that same? 
+
+
+Iago. Something from Venice, sure. "Tis 
+Lodovico 
+
+Come from the duke: and, see, your wife is 
+with him. 
+
+
+Enter Lopovico, DEsDEMONA, and 
+; Attendants. 
+
+
+Lod. Save you, worthy general! 
+
+Oth. With all my heart, sir, 
+
+Lod. The duke and senators of Venice 
+greet you. [Gives hima letter, 
+
+Oth. I kiss the instrument of their pleas- 
+ures. [Opens letter, and reads. 
+
+Des. And what's the news, good cousin 
+Lodovico ? 
+
+Iago. I am very glad to see you, signior; 
+
+Welcome to Cyprus. 
+
+Lod. 1 thank you. 
+Cassio ? 
+
+Iago. Lives, sir. 
+
+Des. Cousin, there's fall’n between him 
+
+
+How does Lieutenant 
+
+
+and my lord 
+An unkind breach: but you shall make all 
+well. 
+
+
+Oth. Are you sure of that? 
+Des. My lord? 
+Oth. [Reads] ‘This fail you not to do, as 
+
+
+you will—’ 240 
+Lod. He did not call; he’s busy in the 
+paper. 
+
+
+Is there division "twixt my lord and Cassio? 
+
+Des. A most unhappy one: I would do 
+
+much 
+To atone them, for the love I bear Cassio. 
+
+Oth, Fire and brimstone! 
+
+Des. My lord? 
+
+Oth. Are you wise? 
+
+Des. What, is he angry? 
+
+Lod. May be the letter moved him; 
+For, as I think, they do command him home, 
+Deputing Cassio in his government. 
+
+Des. Trust me, I am glad on't. 
+
+
+Oth. Indeed! 
+Des My lord? 
+Oth. I am glad to see you mad. 
+
+Des Why, sweet Othello,— 
+
+
+Oth. [Striking her] Devil! 251 
+have not deserved this. 
+
+
+{Acr IV, Sc. I 
+
+
+eS eT a eer 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+Though I should swear I saw't: 
+
+
+Jam 
+
+
+Led. My lo Recalled Bir Vicdazocd | What Suhave deeca:lend! KecuvaccsVousaliell 
+
+
+Oth. 
+If that a earth could teem with woman's 
+
+
+ck ae drop she falls would prove a crocodile. 
+Out of my sight! 
+Des. I will not stay to offend you. 
+Lod, Truly, an obedient lady: 
+Ido beseech your lordship, call her back. 260 
+Oth. Mistress! 
+My lord? 
+What would you with her, sir? 
+Lod. Who, I, my lord? 
+Oth. Ay; you did wish that I would make 
+: her turn: 
+_ Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on, 
+- And turn again; and she can weep, sir, weep; 
+And she’s obedient, as you say, obedient, 
+Very obedient. Proceed you in your tears. 
+Concerning this, sir—O well-painted pas- 
+
+
+[ Going. 
+
+
+commanded home. Get you away; 
+_ I'll send for you anon. Sir, I obey the man- 
+date, 270 
+And will return to Venice. Hence, avaunt! 
+: [Exit Desdemona. 
+Cassio shall have my place. And, sir, to- 
+
+
+t 
+I do entreat that we may sup together: 
+You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus—Goats and 
+monkeys! [Exit. 
+iehed. se this the noble Moor whom our full 
+
+
+Call ‘all i in Seal sufficient? Is this the nature 
+*2 passion could not shake? whose solid 
+virtue 
+The shot of accident, nor dart of chance, 
+Could neither graze nor pierce? 
+Tago. He is much changed. 
+Lod. A Are his wits safe? is he not ae “ 
+rain? 
+
+
+He's that he is: I may not oe 
+my censure : 
+__ What he might be: if what he might he is 
+
+
+not, 
+I would to heaven he were! 
+What, strike his wife! 
+Tago. ‘Faith, that was not so well; yet 
+would I knew 
+That stroke would prove the worst! 
+Lod. Is it his use? 
+Or did the letters work upon his blood, 
+And new-create this fault? 
+lago. Alas, alas! 
+It is not honesty in me to speak 
+
+
+observe him, 
+
+
+‘tis very | And his own courses will denote him so 290 
+
+
+That I may save my speech: do but go after, 
+
+And mark how he continues. 
+Lod. I am sorry that I am deceived in him. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene Il. A room in the casile. 
+Enter OTHELLO and Emma. 
+
+
+Oth. You have seen nothing then? 
+Emil. Nor ever heard, nor ever did suspect. 
+Oth. Yes, you have-seen~ Cassio and she 
+together. 
+Emil. But then I saw no harm, and then 
+I heard 
+Each syllable that breath made up between 
+em. 
+Oth, What, did they never whisper? 
+Emil. Never, my lord. 
+Oth. Nor send you out o° the way? 
+Emil. ‘Never. 
+Oth. To fetch her fan, her gloves, her 
+mask, nor nothing? 
+Emil. Never, my lord. 
+Oth. That's strange. 
+Emil. 1 durst, my lord, to wager she is 
+honest, 
+Lay down my soul at stake: if you think other, 
+Remove your thought; it doth abuse your 
+som. 
+If any wretch have put this in your head, 
+Let heaven requite it with the serpent’s curse! 
+For, if she be not honest, chaste, and true, 
+There's no man happy; the purest of their 
+wives 
+Is foul as slander. 
+th. 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+Bid her come hither: go. 
+Exit Emilia, 
+
+She says enough; yet she’s a simple bawd 20 
+
+That cannot say as much. This is a subtle 
+whore, 
+
+A closet lock and key of villanous secrets: 
+
+And yet she ‘ll kneel and pray; I have seen 
+her do't. 
+
+
+Enter DespemMona vith Emma, 
+
+
+es My lord, wees is your will? 
+Pray, chuck, come hither. 
+Ber What is your pleasure? 
+
+_- f et me see your eyes; 
+in my face. >see 
+Des. ‘What horrible fancy ’s this? 
+Oth. [To Emilia] Some of your function, 
+
+mistress; 
+
+Leave procreants alone and shut the door; 
+ae or cry ‘hem,’ if any body Sears oe! 
+our mystery, your mystery: nay, dispa 
+
+{Exit Emilia, 
+
+
+1122 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc. II 
+
+
+me 
+
+
+Des. Upon my knees, what doth your 
+speech import? 
+I understand a fury in your words, 
+But not the words. 
+Oth. Why, what art thou? 
+
+
+Des. Your wife, my lord; your true 
+And loyal wife. 
+Oth. Come, swear it, damn thyself; 
+
+
+Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils 
+themselves 
+
+Should fear to seize thee: therefore be double 
+damn‘d: 
+
+Swear thou art honest. 
+
+Des. Heaven doth truly know it, 
+
+Oth. Heaven truly knows that thou art 
+
+false as hell. 
+
+Des. To whom, my lord? with whom? 
+
+how am I false? 
+
+Oth. O Desdemona! away! away! away! 
+
+Des. Alas the heavy day! Why do you 
+
+weep? 
+Am I the motive of these tears, my lord? 
+If haply you my father do suspect 
+An instrument of this your calling back, 
+Lay not your blame on me: if you have lost 
+him, 
+Why, I have lost him too. 
+
+Oth, Had it pleased heaven 
+To try me with affliction; had they rain’d 
+All kinds of sores and shames on my bare 
+
+head, 
+Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips, 50 
+Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes, 
+{ should have found in some place of my soul 
+A drop of patience: but, alas, to make me 
+A fixed figure for the time of scorn 
+To point his slow unmoving finger at! 
+Yet could I bear that too; well, very well: 
+But there, where I have garner'd up my heart, 
+Where either I must live, or bear no life; 
+The fountain from the which my current runs, 
+Or else dries up; to be discarded thence! 60 
+Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads 
+To knot and gender in! Turn thy complexion 
+there, 
+Patience, thou young and rose-lipp’d cheru- 
+bin,— 
+Ay, there, look grim as hell! 
+
+Des. I hope my noble lord esteems me 
+
+honest. 
+
+
+Oth. Was this fair paper, this most goodly 
+book, 
+Made to write ‘whore’ upon? What com- 
+mitted ! 
+Committed! O thou public commoner! 
+I should make very forges of my cheeks, 
+That would to cinders burn up modesty, 
+Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed! 
+Heaven stops the nose at it and the moon 
+winks, 
+The bawdy wind that kisses all it meets 
+Is hush’d within the hollow mine of earth, 
+And will not hear it. What committed! 80 
+Impudent strumpet! : 
+Des. By heaven, you do me wrong, 
+Oth. Are not you a strumpet? 
+Des. No, as 1 am a Christian: 
+If to preserve this vessel for my lord 
+From any other foul unlawful touch 
+Be not to be a strumpet, I am none, 
+Oth. What, not a whore? 
+Des. No, as I shall be saved. 
+Oth. Is’t poss ble> 
+Des. O, heaven forgive us! 
+Oth. I cry you mercy, then: 
+I took you for that cunning whore of Venice 
+That married with Othello. [Raising his voice] 
+You, mistress, 90 
+That have the office opposite to Saint Peter, 
+And keep the gate of hell! 
+
+
+Re-enter EMi.ia. 
+
+
+You, you, ay, you! 
+We have done our course; there ‘s money for 
+
+
+your pains: 
+I pray you, turn the key and keep our counsel. 
+[Exit. 
+Emil. Alas, what does this gentleman con- 
+ceive > 
+How do you, madam? how do you, my good 
+lady? 
+
+
+Des. ‘Faith, half asleep. 
+
+Emil. Good madam, what's the matter 
+with my lord? 
+
+Des. With who? 
+
+Emil. Why, with my lord, madam. 
+
+Des. Who is thy lord? 
+
+Emil. He that is yours, sweet lady. 
+
+Des. I have none: do not talk to me, 
+Emilia; 
+
+
+100 
+
+
+Oth. O, ay; as summer flies are in the|I cannot weep; nor answer have I none, 
+
+
+shambles, 
+
+That quicken even with blowing. 
+weed, 
+
+Who art so lovely fair and smell’st so sweet 
+
+
+O thou 
+
+
+But what should go by water. Prithee, to- 
+night 
+Lay on my bed my wedding sheets: re- 
+
+
+member; 
+
+
+That the sense aches at thee, would thou] And call thy husband hither. 
+
+
+hadst ne'er been born! 
+Des. Alas, what ignorant sin have | com- 
+mitted? 70 
+
+
+Emil. Here's a change indeed! [Exit 
+Des. ‘Tis meet I should be used so, very 
+meet. 
+
+
+J 
+; 
+| 
+
+
+ee ee ee ee 
+
+
+ore 
+
+
+ee ee ee ee ee 
+
+
+ee i his ele di 
+
+
+~~ 
+
+
+y 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. II] 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+1123 
+
+
+How have I been behaved, that he might stick | O heaven, that such companions thou ‘Idst 
+
+
+The small’st opinion on my least misuse ? 
+Re-enter Emiuia with Taco. 
+
+
+Tago. What is your pleasure, madam? 
+How is’t with you? 110 
+Des. I cannot tell. Those that do teach 
+young babes 
+Do it with gentle means and easy tasks: 
+He might have chid me so; for, in good faith, 
+I am a child to chiding. 
+Tago. What's the matter, lady? 
+Emil. Alas, Iago, my lord hath so be- 
+whored her, 
+Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon 
+her, 
+As true hearts cannot bear. 
+Des. Am I that name, Iago? 
+Tago. What name, fair lady? 
+Des. te as she says my lord did say I 
+
+
+Emil. Pie cell'd her whore: a beggar in his 
+drink 120 
+Could not have laid such terms upon his callet. 
+
+
+_ lago. Why did he so? 
+
+* Des. I do not know; I am sure I am none 
+such. 
+
+Iago. Do not weep, do not weep. Alas 
+
+
+the day! 
+Emil. Hath she forsook so many noble 
+matches, 
+Her father and her country and her friends, 
+To be call’d whore? would it not make one 
+weep ? 
+Des. It is my wretched fortune. 
+~ [ago. Beshrew him for 't! 
+How comes this trick upon him? 
+
+
+Des. Nay, heaven doth know. 
+Emil. I will be hang'd, if some eternal 
+villa n, 130 
+
+
+Some busy and insinuating rogue, 
+Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some 
+office, 
+
+
+Have not devised this slander; I ‘ll be hang’d 
+else. 
+Tago. Fie, there is no such man; it is im- 
+
+
+possible. 
+
+
+Des. If any such there be, heaven parton 
+him! 
+Emil. A halter pardon him! and hell gnaw 
+
+
+his bones! 
+
+Why should he call her whore? who keeps 
+her company? 
+
+What place? what time? what form? what 
+
+; likelihood > 
+
+The Moor ’s abused by some most villanous 
+knave, 
+
+Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fel- 
+low. 
+
+
+unfold, 
+And put in every honest hand a whip 
+To lash the rascals naked through the world 
+Even from the east to the west! 
+Tago. Speak within door. 
+Emil. O, fie upon them! Some such squire 
+he was 
+That turn'd your wit the seamy side without, 
+And made you to suspect me with the Moor, 
+
+Iago. You are a fool; go to. 
+
+Des. O good Iago, 
+What shall I do to win my lord again? 
+Good friend, go to him; for, by this light of 
+
+heaven, 150 
+I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel: 
+If e’er my will did trespass ‘gainst his love, 
+Either in discourse of thought or actual deed, 
+Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense, 
+Delighted them in any other form; 
+Or that I do not yet, and ever did, 
+And ever will—though he do shake me off 
+To beggarly divorcement—love him dearly, 
+Comfort forswear me! Unkindness may do 
+much; 
+And his unkindness may defeat my life, 160 
+But never taint my love. I cannot say 
+‘whore:’ 
+It doth abhor me now I speak the word; 
+To do the act that might the addition earn 
+Not the world’s mass of vanity could make me. 
+Iago. I pray you, be content; ‘tis but his 
+humour: 
+The business of the state does him offence, 
+And he does chide with you. 
+Des. If ‘twere no other,— 
+Tago. ‘Tis but so, I warrant. 
+[Trumpets within. 
+Hark, how these instruments summon to 
+supper! ° 
+The messengers of Venice stay the meat: 170 
+Go in, and weep not; all things shall be well. 
+[Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia. 
+
+
+141 
+
+
+Enter Roperico, 
+
+
+How now, Roder’go! 
+
+Rod. 1 do not find that thou dealest justly 
+with me. 
+
+Iago. What in the contrary? 
+
+Rod. Every day thou daffest me with some 
+device, Iago; and rather, as it seems to me 
+now, keepest from me all conveniency than > 
+suppliest me with the least advantage of hope. 
+I will indeed no longer endure it, nor am I 
+yet persuaded to put up in peace what already 
+I have foolishly suffered. 
+
+Tago. Will you ‘hear me, Roderigo? 
+
+Rod. ‘Faith, I have heard too much, for 
+
+
+1124 
+
+
+- OTHELLO 
+
+
+your words and performances are no kin to- 
+gether. 
+
+Jago. You charge me most unjustly. 
+
+Red. With nought but truth. I have 
+wasted myself out of my means. The jewels 
+you have had from me to deliver to Desde- 
+mona would half have corrupted a votarist: 
+you have told me she hath received them and 
+returned me expectations and comforts of sud- | 
+den respect and acquaintance, but | find none. | 
+
+Iago. Well; go to; very well. : 
+
+Rod. Very well! go to! I cannot go to. } 
+man; nor ‘tis not very well: nay, I think it is 
+scurvy, and begin to find myself fopped in it. 
+
+ago. Very well. 
+
+Rod. 1 tell you “tis not very well. I will 
+make myself known to Desdemona: if she will 
+return me my jewels, I will give over my suit 
+and repent my unlawful solicitation; if not, 
+assure yourself I will seek satisfaction of you. 
+
+Iago. You have said now. 
+
+Rod. Ay, and said nothing but what I pro- 
+test intendment of doing. 
+
+Jago. Why, now I see there's metile in 
+thee, and even from this instant do build on 
+thee a better opinion than ever before. Give 
+me thy hand, Roderigo: thou hast taken against 
+me a most just exception; but yet, I protest, I 
+have dealt most directly in thy affair. 
+
+Rod. It hath not appeared. 
+
+Tago. I grant indeed it hath not appeared, 
+and your suspicion is not without wit and 
+judgement. But, Roderigo, if thou hast that 
+in thee indeed, which I have greater reason to 
+believe now than ever, I mean purpose, cour- 
+age and valour, this night show it: if thou the 
+next night following enjoy not Desdemona, 
+take me from this world with treachery and 
+devise engines for my life. 
+
+Rod. Well, what is it? is it within reason 
+and compass? E 
+
+Jago. Sir, there is especial commission 
+come from Venice to depute Cassio in Othel- 
+lo's place. 
+
+Rod. Is that true? why, then Othello and 
+Desdemona return again to Venice. 
+
+Iago. O, no; he goes into Mauritania and 
+takes away with him the fair Desdemona, 
+unless his abode be lingered here by some 
+accident: wherein none can be so determi- 
+nate as the removing of Cassio. 
+
+Rod. How do you mean, removing of him? 
+
+Jago. Why, by making him uncapable of 
+Othello’s place; knocking out his brains. 
+
+Rod. And that you would have me to do? 
+
+Iago. Ay, if you dare do yourself a profit 
+and a right. He sups to-night with a har- 
+lotry, and thither will I go to him: he knows 
+
+
+not yet of his honourable fortune. If you will 
+
+
+watch his gomg thence, which I will fashion _ 
+to fall out between twelve and one, you may 
+take him at your pleasure: I will be near to 
+second your attempt, and he shall fall be- 
+tween us. Come, stand not amazed at it, but — 
+go along with me; I will show you such a 
+necessity in his death that you shall think 
+yourself bound to put it on him. It is now 
+high supper-time, and the night grows to 
+waste: about it. 250 
+Rod. I will hear further reason for this. 
+Jago. And you shall be satisfied. [Exeunt, 
+Scene III. Another room in the castle. 
+Enter OTHELLO, Lopovrco, DesDEMONA, 
+Emitia, and Attendants. 
+
+
+Lod. I do beseech you, sir, trouble your- 
+self no further. 
+
+Oth, O, pardon me; ‘twill do me good te 
+valk 
+
+
+walk. 
+Lod. Madam, good night; I humbly thank 
+your ladyship. 
+es. Your honour is most welcome. ‘ 
+
+Oth. Will you walk, sir? 
+O.—Desdemona, — 
+
+Des. My lord? 
+
+Oth. Get you to bed on the instant; I will 
+be returned forthwith: dismiss your attendant 
+there: look it be done. 
+
+Des. 1 will, my lord. 10 
+
+[Exeunt Othello, Lodovico, and Atiendants. 
+
+Emil. How goes it now? he looks gentler 
+
+than he did 
+Des. He says he will return incontinent: 
+He hath commanded me to go to bed, 
+And bade me to dismiss you. 
+Emil. Dismiss me! 
+Des. It was his bidding; therefore, good 
+Emilia, 
+Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu: 
+We must not now displease him. 
+Emil. 1 would you i 
+Des. So would not I: my love doth so 
+approve him, 
+That even his stubbornness, his checks, his 
+frowns,— 20 
+Prithee, unpin me,—have grace and favour 
+
+
+in them. 
+Emil. I have laid those sheets you bade 
+me on the bed. 
+Des. All's one. Good faith, how foolish 
+are our minds! 
+If I do die before thee, prithee, shroud me 
+in one of those same sheets. 
+
+
+Emil. Come, come, you talk, 
+a My mother had a maid call’d Bas- 
+ara: 
+
+
+| a) hn weet 7 Sh eas t 
+i\ AcrIW sell]. 
+
+
+| She was in love, and he she loved proved | 
+
+
+a mad 
+_ And did forsake her: 
+| ‘willow ;’ 
+An old thing ‘twas, but it express’'d her for- 
+fune, 
+And she died singing it: that song to-night 30 
+Will not go from my mind; I have much 
+to do, 
+But to go hang my head all at one side, 
+And sing it | ke poor Barbara. Prithee, dis- 
+patch. : 
+Emil. Shall I go fetch your night-gown? 
+Des. No, unpin me here. 
+This Lodovico is.a proper man. 
+Emil. A very handsome man. 
+Des. He speaks well. 
+Emil: I. know a lady in Venice would 
+have walked barefoot to Palestine for a touch 
+of his nether lip. 
+
+
+she had a song of 
+
+
+‘Des. , [Singing] The poor soul sat sighing 
+oy by a sycamore tree, 
+Sing all a green willow; 
+Her hand on her bosom, her head on her 
+knee, 
+Sing willow, willow, willow: 
+The fresh streams ran by her, and mur- 
+mur’d her moans; 
+Sing willow, willow, willow; 
+Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd 
+the stones ;— 
+Lay by these:— 
+[Singing] Sing willow, willow, willow; 
+Prithee, hie thee; he'll come anon:— 50 
+[Singing] Sing all a green willow must be my 
+garland. 
+Let nobody blame him; his scorn I ap- 
+prove,— 
+Nay, that’s not next——Hark! who is’t that 
+knocks ? 
+; Emil. it’s the wind. 
+i Des. [Singing] I call’d my love false love; 
+but what said he then? 
+Sing willow, willow, willow: 
+If I court moe women, you ‘ll couch with 
+moe men.— 
+So, get thee gone; good night. Mine eyes 
+do itch; 
+Doth that bode weeping > 
+Emil. *Tis neither here nor there. 
+Des. I have heard it said so. O, these 
+men, these men! 60 
+Dost thou in conscience think,—tell me, 
+miha,— 
+That there be women do abuse their husbands 
+In such gross kind? 
+Emil. There be some such, no question. 
+Des. Wouldst thou do such a deed for all 
+the world? 
+t 
+. 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+1125. 
+
+
+Emil. Why, would not you? 
+
+Des. No, by this heavenly light! 
+
+Emil. Nor I neither by this heavenly light; 
+I might do’t as well i’ the dark. 
+
+Des. Wouldst thou do such a deed for all 
+
+the world? 
+
+Emil. The world’s a huge thing: it is a 
+
+great price 
+For a small vice. 
+
+Des. In troth, } think thou wouldst not. 70 
+
+Emil. In troth, f think I should; and un- 
+do ’t when I had done. Marry, I would not 
+do such a thing for a joint-ring, nor for meas- 
+ures of lawn, nor for gowns, petticoats, nor 
+caps, nor any petty exhibition; but, for the 
+whole world,—why, who would not make her 
+husband a cuckold to make him a monarch? 
+I should venture purgatory fort. 
+
+Des. Beshrew me, if I would do such a 
+
+wrong 
+For the whole world. 79 
+
+Emil. Why, the wrong is but a wrong i’ 
+the world; and having the world for your 
+labour, ‘tis a wrong in your own world, and 
+you might quickly make it right. 
+
+Des. I do not think there is any such 
+
+woman. 
+
+Emil. Yes, a dozen; and as many to the 
+vantage as would store the world they played 
+for. 
+
+But I do think it is their husbands’ faults 
+
+If wives do fall: say that they slack their 
+duties, 
+
+And pour our treasures into foreign laps, 
+
+Or else break out in peevish jealousies, 
+
+Throwing restraint upon us; or say they strike 
+us, 
+
+Or scant our former having in despite; 
+
+Why, we have galls, and though we have 
+some grace, 
+
+Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands 
+
+
+know 
+
+Their wives have sense like them: they see 
+and smell 
+
+And have; their palates both for sweet and 
+sour, 
+
+
+As husbands have. What is it that they do 
+When they change us for others? Is it sport? 
+I think it is: and doth affection breed it? 
+I think it doth: ist frailty that thus errs? 100 
+It is so too: and have not we affections, 
+Desires for sport, and frailty, as men have? 
+Then let them use us well: else let them 
+know, 
+The tlls we do, their ills instruct us so. 
+Des. Good night, good night: heaven me 
+such uses send, 
+Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend! 
+[Exeunt, 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+11426 [Acr:VaSeiF 
+ACT V. Thou teachest me. Minion, your dear lies 
+lead, 
+Scene I. Cyprus. A street. And your unblest fate hies: strumpet, I come. 
+Enter laco and RopERIco. Forth of my heart those charms, thine eyes, 
+lago. Here, stand behind this bulk; are blotted; 
+
+
+straight will he come: 
+Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home; 
+Quick, quick; fear nothing; I'll be at thy 
+elbow: 
+It makes us, or it mars us; think on that, 
+And fix most firm thy resolution. 
+nine eee near at hand; I may miscarry 
+
+
+Tegel Eee at thy hand: be bold, and take 
+thy stand. [Retires. 
+Rod. I have no great devotion to the deed; 
+And yet he hath given me satisfying reasons: 
+*Tis but a man gone, Forth, my sword: he 
+10 
+
+
+dies 
+Tago. 1 have rubb'd this young quat almost 
+
+to the sense, 
+
+And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill 
+Cassio, 
+
+Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other, 
+
+Every way makes my gain: live Roderigo, 
+
+He calls me to a restitution large 
+
+Of gold and jewels that I bobb’d from him, 
+
+As gifts to Desdemona; 
+
+It must not be: if Cassio do remain, 
+
+He hath a daily beauty in his life 
+
+That makes me ugly; and, besides, the Moor 
+
+May unfold me to him; there stand I in much 
+peril: 21 
+
+No, he must die, 
+
+
+Enter Cassio. 
+
+
+Rod. I know his gait, ‘tis he.—Villain, 
+thou diest! [Makes a pass at Cassio. 
+Cas. That thrust had been mine enemy in- 
+eed, 
+But that my coat is better than thou know’st: 
+I will make proof of thine. 
+[Draws, and wounds Roderigo. 
+Rod. I am slain! 
+[Iago from behind wounds Cassio: in the 
+
+
+leg, and exit. 
+
+Cas. I am maim'd for ever. Help, ho! 
+
+murder! murder! [Falls. 
+Enter OTHELLO, 
+
+
+ae cai voice of Cassio: Iago keeps his 
+
+
+But so: I hear him coming. 
+
+
+Rod. es villain that I am! 
+Oth. It is even so. 
+Cas. O, help, ho! light! a surgeon! 30 
+
+
+Oth. Tis he:—O brave Iago, honest and 
+
+
+just, ‘ 
+That hast such noble sense of thy friend's 
+wrong! 
+
+
+Thy bed, hepstan'd: shall with lust’s blood 
+be spotted. Exit. 
+
+
+Enter Lopovico and GraTIANO. 
+
+
+Cas. What, ho! no watch? no passage? 
+murder! murder! 
+
+
+Gra. “Tis some mischance; the cry is very 
+direful. 
+
+Cas. O, help! 
+
+Lod. Hark! 40 
+
+
+Rod. O wretched villain! 
+Lod. Two or three groan: 
+night: 
+These a be counterfeits: let's think "t un- 
+safe 
+To come in to the cry without more help. 
+Rod. Nobody come? then shall I bleed to 
+death. 
+Lod. Hark! 
+Re-enter Jaco, with a light. 
+Gra, Here's one comes in his shirt, with 
+light and weapons. 
+Iago. Who's there? whose noise is this 
+that cries on murder? 
+Lod. We do not know. : 
+Did not you hear a cry? 
+
+
+it is a heavy 
+
+
+Tago. 
+
+Cas. Here, here! for heaven's sake, help 
+me! 
+
+Tago What's the matter? 50 
+
+
+ra This is, Othello’s ancient, as I take it. 
+Lod. The same indeed; a very valiant fel- 
+
+
+. What are you here that cry so griey- 
+ously ? 
+Cas. Iago? 
+villains! 
+Give me some help. 
+Iago. O me, lieutenant! 
+have done this? 
+Cas. | think that one of them is hereabout, 
+And cannot make away. 
+Iago. \ O treacherous villains! 
+What are you there? come in, and give some 
+help. [To Lodovico and Gratiano, 
+Rod. O, help me here! 
+Cas, That’s one of them. 
+Tago. O murderous slave! O villain? 
+[Stabs Roderigo, 
+Rod. O damn’d Iago! O inhuman dog! 
+Tago. Kill men i’ the darki!i—Where be 
+these bloody thieves ?>— 
+How silent is this town!—Ho! murder! mur- 
+ler!— 
+What may you be? are you of good or evil? 
+
+
+O, I am spoil’d, undone by 
+
+
+what villains 
+
+
+: 
+Acr V, Sc. II] 
+
+
+.. 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+1127 
+
+
+Lod. As you shall prove us, praise us. 
+
+Tago. Signior Lodovico? 
+
+Lod. He, sir. 
+
+Tago. I cry you mercy. 
+
+hurt by villains. 
+
+Gra. Cassio! 
+
+Tago. How is’t, brother! 
+
+Cas. My leg is cut in two. 
+
+Tago. Marry, heaven forbid! 
+Light, gentlemen: I ‘Il bind it with my shirt. 
+
+
+Here ’s Cassio 
+
+
+Enter BIANCA. 
+
+
+Bian. What is the matter, ho? who is‘t 
+that cried? 
+Iago. Who is’t that cried! 
+Bian. O my dear Cassio! my sweet Cas- 
+sio! 
+O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio! 
+Iago. O notable strumpet! 
+you suspect 
+_ Who they should be that have thus mangled 
+you? 
+Cas. No. 
+Gra. | am sorry to find you thus: I have 
+been to seek you. 
+' Iago. Lend me a garter. O, for a 
+chair, 
+To bear him easily hence! 
+Bian. Alas, he faints! 
+Cassio! 
+Iago. Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash 
+To be a party in this injury. 
+Patience awhile, good Cassio. Come, come; 
+Lend me a light. Know we this face or no? 
+Alas, my friend and my dear countryman 
+Roderigo! no:—yes, sure:—O heaven! Rod- 
+erigo. 
+Gra, What, of Venice? 91 
+Iago. Even he, sir: did you know him? 
+
+
+Cassio, may 
+
+
+So. 
+
+
+O Cassio, Cassio, 
+
+
+Gra. Know him! ay. 
+Tago. Signior Gratiano? I cry you gentle 
+pardon; 
+These bloody accidents must excuse my man- 
+ners, 
+That so neglected you. 
+Gra. I am glad to see you. 
+Iago. How do you, Cassio? O, a chair, a 
+
+
+chair! 
+
+Gra. Roderigo! 
+
+Iago. He,he,’tishe. [A chair brought in.] 
+O, that’s well said; the chair. 
+
+
+Some good man bear him carefully from 
+
+
+we ence; 
+
+I'll fetch the general's surgeon. [To Bianca] 
+For you, mistress, 100 
+
+Save you your labour. He that lies slain here, 
+Cassio, 
+
+Was my dear friend: what malice was be- 
+tween you? 
+
+
+Cas. None in the world; nor do I know 
+the man. 
+Tago. [To Bian.] What, look you pale? 
+O, bear him: out o’ the air. 
+[Cassiovand Roderigo are borne off. 
+Stay you, good gentlemen. Look you pale, 
+mistress ? 
+Poston pereeee te: -gastness_of her eye? 
+ay, if you stare, we shall hear more anon. 
+Behold her well; I pray you, look upon her: 
+Do you see, gentlemen? nay, guiltiness will 
+speak, 
+110 
+
+
+Though tongues were out of use. 
+Enter Emitia. 
+
+
+Emil. ‘Las, what’s the matter? what’s the 
+matter, husband ? 
+Iago. Cassio hath here been set on in the 
+dark 
+By Roderigo and fellows that are scaped: 
+He’s almost slain, and Roderigo dead. 
+Emil. Alas, good gentlemen! alas, good 
+Cassio! 
+Iago. This is the fruit of whoring. Prithee, 
+Emilia, 
+Go know of Cassio where he supp’d to-night. 
+[To Bianca] What, do you shake at that? 
+Bian. He supp'd at my house; but | there- 
+fore shake not. 
+Iago. O, did he so? I charge you, go with 
+me. 120 
+Emil. Fie, fie upon thee, strumpet! 
+Bian. 1 am no strumpet; but of life as 
+honest 
+As you that thus abuse me. 
+Emil. As I! foh! fie upon thee! 
+Iago. Kind gentlemen, let’s go see poor 
+Cassio dress'd. 
+Come, mistress, you must tell’s another tale. 
+Emilia, run you to the citadel, 
+And tell my lord and lady what hath happ’d- 
+Will you go on? I pray. [Aside] This is 
+the night 
+That either makes me or fordoes me quite. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. A bedchamber in the castle: DEs- 
+DEMONA in bed asleep; a light burning. 
+
+
+Enter OTHELLO. 
+
+
+Oth. It is the cause, it is the cause, my 
+soul,— 
+
+Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars!— 
+It is the cause. Yet I'll not shed her blood; 
+Nor scar that whiter skin of her than snow, 
+And smooth as monumental alabaster. 
+Yet she must die, else she ‘Il betray more mer, 
+Put out the light, and then put out the light? 
+If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, 
+
+
+~ 1128 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+I can again thy former light restore, 
+
+Should I repent me: but once put out thy 
+light, 
+
+Thou cunning’st pattern of excelling nature, 
+
+I know not where is that Promethean heat 
+
+That can thy light relume. 
+pluck’d the rose, 
+
+I cannot give it vital growth again, 
+
+It must needs wither: I'll smell it on the 
+tree. [Kissing her. 
+
+Ah, balmy breath, that doth almost persuade 
+
+Justice to break her sword! One more, one 
+more. 
+
+
+Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill 
+thee, 
+And love thee after. 
+
+
+last: 
+So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep, 20 
+But they are cruel tears: this sorrow ’s heay- 
+
+
+enly; 
+It strikes-where it doth love. She wakes. 
+
+
+One more, and this the 
+
+
+Des. Who's there? Othello? 
+Oth. Ay, Desdemona. 
+Des. Will you come to bed, my lord? 
+
+
+Oth. Have you pray'’d to-night, Desde- 
+mona? 
+Des Ay, my lord. 
+Oth. If you bethink yourself of any crime 
+Unreconciled as yet to heaven and grace, 
+Solicit for it straight. 
+Des. Alas, my lord, what do you mean by 
+that> 
+Oth. Well, do it, and be brief; I will 
+walk by: 30 
+I would not kill thy unprepared spirit; 
+
+
+No; heaven forfend! I would not kill thy 
+soul, 
+Des. Talk you of killing? 
+Oth. Ay, I do. 
+Des. Then heaven 
+
+
+Have mercy on me! 
+th, Amen, with all my heart! 
+Des. If you say so, I hope you will not 
+ill me. 
+Oik. Hum! 
+Des. And yet I fear you; 
+fatal then 
+. When your eyes roll so: why I should fear 
+I know not, 
+Since guiltiness | know not; 
+
+
+for you are 
+
+
+but yet I feel 
+
+
+fear. 
+Oth. Think on thy sins. 
+Des. They are loves I bear to you. 40 
+Oth. Ay, and for that thou diest. 
+Des. That death's unnatural that kills for 
+loving. 
+Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip? 
+Some bloody passion shakes your very frame: 
+ese are portents: but yet I hove, I hope, 
+
+
+When I have | Th 
+
+
+They do not point on me. 
+Oth. Peace, and be still! 
+Des. | will so. What’s the matter? 
+
+Oth. That handkerchief which I so loved 
+and gave thee 
+
+ou gavest to Cassio. 
+
+Des. No, by my life and soul! 
+
+Send for the man, and ask him. 
+
+Sweet soul, take heed, 50 
+
+Take heed of perjury; thou art-on thy death- 
+
+
+Des. Ay, but not yet to die. 
+Yes, presently: 
+Tieclore confess thee freely of thy sin; 
+For to deny each article with oath 
+ot remove nor choke the strong concep- 
+
+
+hon 
+That I do groan withal. Thou art to die. 
+Des. Then Lord have mercy on me! 
+
+
+Oth. I say, amen. 
+Renate have you mercy too! 
+di 
+Offend you in my life; never loved Cassio 
+But with such general warranty of heaven 60 
+As I might love; I never gave him token. 
+Oth. By heaven, I saw my handkerchief 
+in’s hand. 
+O perjured woman! thou dost stone my heart, 
+And makest me call what I intended ta do 
+A murder, which I thought a sacrifice? 
+I saw the handkerchief. 
+Des. He found it then; 
+I never gave it him: send for him hither; 
+Let oe ‘ed a truth. 
+
+
+oO He hath confess’d. 
+Des. What, iy lord? 
+Oth. That he hath used thee. 
+
+Des. How? unlawfully? 
+Oth. Ay. 7( 
+Des. He will not say so. ; 
+Oth No, his mouth is stopp’d; 
+
+Honest Iago hath ta’en order fort. 
+Des. O! my fear interprets: what, is he 
+dead? 
+
+
+oes is all his hairs been lives, my great 
+
+
+Had ok for them all. 
+
+Des. Alas! he is betray’d and I undone. 
+
+Oth. Out, strumpet! weep’st thou for him 
+to my face? 
+
+Des. O, banish me, my lord, but kill me 
+not! 
+
+Oth. Down, strumpet! 
+
+Des. Kill me to-morrow: let me live to- 
+night! 
+
+Oth. Nay, if you strive-— 
+
+Des. But half an hour! 
+
+Oth. Being done, there is no pause, 
+
+Des. But while I say one prayer! 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+1129 
+
+
+es ST is-ve. < wy " 
+Aer V, Sc. II] 
+It is too late. 
+
+
+Oth. . 
+[He stifles her. 
+Emil. [Within] My lord, my lord! what, 
+ho! my lord, my lord! 
+Oth. What noise is this? Not dead? not 
+yet quite dead? 
+I that am cruel am yet merciful; 
+I would not have thee linger in thy pain: 
+
+
+, SO. 
+Emil. [Within] What, ho! my lord, my 
+
+lord! | 
+Oth. Who 's there? 
+Emil. [Within] O, good my lord, I would 
+
+
+speak a word with 
+
+
+you! 
+
+
+90 
+By and by. She's 
+
+
+Oth. Yes: ‘tis Emilia. 
+ad, 
+"Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio’s 
+death.— 
+
+
+The noise was here. Ha! no more moving? 
+Still as the grave. Shall she come in? were't 
+é good >— 
+I think she stirs again:—no. What's best to 
+do? ‘ 
+If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife: 
+My wife! my wife! what wife? I have no 
+wife. 
+O, insupportable! O heavy hour! 
+Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse 
+Of sun and moon, and that the affrighted 
+globe 
+Should yawn at alteration. 
+Emil. [Within] 1 do beseech you 101 
+That I may speak with you, O, good my lord! 
+Oth. I had forgot thee: O, come in, Emilia: 
+Soft; by and by. Let me the curtains draw. 
+Where art thou? [Unlocks the door. 
+
+
+Enter Ema. 
+
+
+What's the matter with thee now? 
+Emil. O, my good lord, yonder's foul 
+murders done! 
+Oth. What, now? 
+Emil, But now, my lord. 
+Oth. It is the very error of the moon; 
+She comes more nearer earth than she was 
+
+
+wont, 
+And makes men mad. 111 
+Emil. Cassio, my lord, hath kill’d a young 
+Venetian 
+
+
+Call'd Roderigo. 
+Roderigo kill’d! 
+
+
+Oth. 
+And Cassio kill’d! 
+Emil, No, Cassio is not kill'd. 
+Oth. Not Cassio kill’d! then murder ’s out 
+of tune, 
+And sweet revenge grows harsh. 
+Des. O, falsely, falsely murder’d! 
+Emil. Alas, what cry is that? 
+Oth. That! what? 
+
+
+Emil. Out, and alas! that was my lady's 
+Voice. 119 
+Help! help, ho! help! 
+
+
+O lady, speak aeiia! 
+Sweet Desdemona! 
+
+
+O sweet mistress, speak! 
+
+
+Des. A guiltless death I die. 
+Emil. O, who hath done this deed? 
+Des. Nobody; I myself. Farewell: 
+
+
+Commend me to my kind lord: O, farewell! 
+
+ies. 
+
+ie Why, how should she be murder’d? 
+
+Alas, who knows> 
+
+Oth. Sou heard her say herself, it was 
+
+not I. 
+
+Emil. She said so: 
+the truth. 
+
+Ot She's, like a liar, gone to burning 
+
+
+I must needs report 
+
+
+hell: 
+‘Twas I that kill’d her. 
+Emil. O, the more angel she, 
+And you the blacker devil! 
+Oth. She turn’d to folly, and she was a 
+whore. 
+Emil. Thou dost belie her, and thou art a 
+devil. 
+Oth. She was false as water. 
+Emil. hou art rash as fire, to say 
+That she was false: O, she was heavenly true! 
+Oth, Cassio did top her; ask thy husband 
+else. 
+O, I were damn’d beneath all depth in hell, 
+But that I did proceed upon just grounds 
+To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all. 
+Emil. My husband! 140 
+Oth. Thy husband. 
+Emil. That she was false to wedlock? 
+Oth. Ay, with Cassio. Nay, had she been 
+
+
+130 
+
+
+true, 
+If heaven would make me such another world 
+Of one entire and perfect chrysolite, 
+I'Ild not have sold her for it. 
+
+Emil. My husband! 
+
+Oth. Ay, ‘twas he that told me first: 
+An honest man he is, and hates the slime 
+That sticks on filthy deeds. 
+
+Emil. My husband! 
+
+Oth. What needs this iteration, woman? I 
+
+say thy husband. 150 
+Emil. O mistress, villany hath made mocks 
+with love! 
+My husband say that she was false! 
+
+Oth. He, woman; 
+I say thy husband: dost understand the word? 
+My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Iago. 
+
+Emil. If he say so, may his pernicious sou] 
+Rot half a grain a day! he lies to the heart: 
+She was too fond of her most filthy bargain. 
+
+Oth. Ha! 
+
+Emil. Do thy worst: 
+
+This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+1130 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. H | 
+
+
+Than thou wast worthy her. 
+Oth. Peace, you were best. 
+a. Thou hast not half that power to do 
+
+
+e harm 
+As 1 bate to be hurt. O gull! O dolt! 
+Ass ignorant as dirt! thou hast done a deed— 
+I care not for thy sword: I ‘Il make thee 
+known, 
+Though I lost twenty lives—Help! help, ho! 
+help! 
+The Moor hath kill'd my mistress! Murder! 
+
+
+murder! 
+
+
+Enier Montano, Gratiano, Iaco, 
+
+
+and others. 
+
+Mon. What is the matter? How now, 
+general! 
+
+Emil. O, are you come, Iago? you have 
+done well, 
+
+That men must lay their murders on your 
+
+neck. 
+
+Gra. What is the matter? 171 
+
+
+Emii. Disprove this villain, if thou be'st a 
+
+
+man: 
+He says thou told'’st him that his wife was 
+
+
+false: 
+I know thou didst not, 
+villain: 
+Speak, for my heart is full. 
+Iago. I told him what I thought, and told 
+no more 
+Than what he found himself was apt and true. 
+Emil. But did you ever tell him she was 
+false? 
+Jago. I did. 
+Emil. You told a lie; an odious, damned 
+lie; 180 
+Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie. 
+She false with Cassio! —did you say with 
+Cassio? 
+Tago. With Cassio, mistress. Go to, charm 
+your tongue. 
+Emil. I will not charm my tongue; I am 
+bound to speak: 
+My mistress here lies murder'd in her bed — 
+All. O heavens forfend! 
+Emil. And your reports have set the mur- 
+der on. 
+Oth. Nay, stare not, masters: it is true, in- 
+deed. 
+
+
+Gra. “Tis a strange truth. 
+Mon. O monstrous act! 
+
+
+thou ‘rt not such a 
+
+
+Emil. Villany, villany, villany! 190 
+1 think upon't, I think: I smell 't: O vil- 
+lany !— 
+
+
+I thought so then:—I'll kill myself for 
+
+
+gri 
+O villany. villany! 
+
+
+Iago. What, are you mad? I charge you, 
+get you home. 
+Emil. Good gentlemen, let me have leave 
+to speak: 
+‘Tis proper I obey him, but not now. 
+Perchance, Iago, I will ne'er go home. 
+Oth. O! O! O! [He falls on the bed. 
+Emil. Nay, lay thee down and roar; 
+For thou hast kill’d the sweetest innocent 
+That e’er did lift up eye. 
+Oth. [Rising] O, she was foul! 200 
+
+
+I scarce did know you, uncle: there lies your 
+
+
+niece, 
+Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly 
+stopp'd: 
+know this act shows horrible and grim. 
+Gra. Poor Desdemona! I am glad thy 
+fathers dead: 
+Thy here was mortal to him, and pure 
+
+
+SBie i old thread in twain: did he live 
+
+
+no 
+
+This oat would make him do a desperate 
+turn, 
+
+Yea, curse his better angel from his side, 
+
+And fall to reprobation, 
+
+Oth. "Tis pitiful; but yet Iago knows 210 
+That she with Cassio hath the act of shame 
+A thousand times committed; Cassio con- 
+
+fess'd it: 
+And she did gratify his amorous works 
+With that recognizance and pledge of love 
+Which I first gave her; I saw it in his hand: 
+It was a handkerchief, an antique token 
+My father gavt my mother. 
+
+Emil. O heaven! O heavenly powers! 
+
+Iago. Come, hold your peace. 
+
+Emil. ‘Twill out, ‘twill out: I peace! 
+No, I will speak as liberal as the north: 220 
+Let heaven and men and devils, let them all, 
+All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak. 
+
+
+é 
+
+
+Iago. Be wise, and get you home. 
+
+Emil. I will not. 
+[Iago offers to stab Emilia. 
+
+Gra. Fie! 
+
+
+Your sword upon a woman? 
+Emil. O thou dull Moor! that handker- 
+chief thou speak'st of 
+I found by fortune and did give my husband; 
+For often, with a solemn earnestness, 
+More than indeed belong'd to such a trifle, 
+He begg'd of me to steal it. 
+
+
+Tago. Villanous whore! 
+Emil. She give it Cassio! no, alas! I 
+found it, 
+And I did give 't my husband. 
+Tago. Filth, thou liest! 
+
+
+Emil. By heaven, I do not, I do not, gen- 
+tlemen. 
+
+
+ agiaibe x eaaee. 
+
+
+_ Act V, Sc. I] 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+1131 
+
+
+IEEE ——————EE——EEEE—— SSS 
+
+
+Y << il 
+
+
+oO REI coxcomb! what should such a 
+ool 
+Do with so good a woman? 
+Oth. Are there no stones in heaven 
+But what serve for the thunder?—Precious 
+villain! 
+[He runs at Iago: lago, from behind, stabs 
+Emilia, and exit. 
+Gra. The woman falls; sure, he hath 
+kill’d his wife. 
+Emil. Ay, ay: O, lay me by my mistress’ 
+
+
+side 
+
+
+Gra. He’s gone, but his wife's kill'd. 
+Mon. “Tis a notorious villain. Take you 
+this weapon, 
+Which I have here recover’d from the Moor: 
+Come, guard the door without; let him = 
+241 
+
+
+pass, : | 
+But kill him rather. I'll after that same 
+
+
+villain, : 
+For ‘tis a damned slave. ; 
+[Exeunt Montano and Gratiano. 
+Oth. I am not valiant neither, 
+But every puny whipster gets my sword: 
+But why should honour outlive honesty ? 
+Let it go all. 
+Emil. What did thy song bode, lady? 
+Hark, canst thou hear me? I! will play the 
+
+
+swan, 
+
+And die in music. [Singing] Willow, willow, 
+
+3 willow— 
+
+Moor, she was chaste; she loved thee, cruel 
+oor; 
+
+
+So come my soul to bliss, as 1 speak true; 250 
+
+
+So speaking as I think, I die, I die. [Dies. 
+
+
+Oth. I have another weapon in this cham- 
+tT; 
+It is a sword of Spain, the ice-brook’s tem- 
+
+
+per:— 
+O, here it is. Uncle, I must come forth. 
+Gra. [Within] If thou attempt it, it will 
+cost thee dear: 
+Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must 
+suffer. 
+Oih. Look in upon me then and speak 
+with me, 
+Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee. 
+
+
+Re-enter GRATIANO. 
+
+
+Gra. What is the matter? 
+
+Oth. Behold, I have a weapon; 
+A better never did itself sustain 260 
+Upon a-soldier’s thigh: I have seen the day 
+That, with this little arm and this good sword, 
+] have made my way through more impedi- 
+: ments 
+Than twenty times your stop: but, O vain 
+
+boast! 
+
+
+Who can control his fate? ‘tis not so now. 
+
+
+Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon’d; 
+ere is my journey’s end, here is my butt, 
+
+And very sea-mark of my utmost sail. 
+
+Do you go back dismay'd? ‘ts a lost fear; 
+
+Man but a rush against Othello’s breast, 270 
+
+And he retires. Where should Othello go? 
+
+Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starr’d 
+
+
+wench! 
+
+Pale as thy smock! -when we shall meet at 
+compt, 
+
+This look of thine will hurl my soul from 
+heaven, 
+
+
+And fiends will snatch at it. 
+irl! 
+
+Even like thy chastity. O cursed slave! 
+
+Whip me, ye devils, 
+
+From the possession of this heavenly sight! 
+
+Blow me about in winds! roast me in sulphur! 
+
+Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire! 
+
+O Desdemona! Desdemona! dead! 
+
+Oh! Oh! Oh! 
+
+
+Enter Lopovico, Montano, Cassio carried 
+in a chair, and Officers with Iaco, prisoner. 
+
+
+Lod. Where is this rash and most un- 
+fortunate man? 
+Oth. That’s he that was Othello: here I am. 
+Lod. Where is that viper? bring the vil- 
+lain forth. 
+Oth. I look down towards his feet; but 
+that's a fable. 
+If that thou be’st a devil, I cannot kill thee. 
+[Wounds Iago. 
+Lod. Wrench his sword from him. 
+Tago. I bleed, sir; but not kill’d. 
+Oth. I am not sorry neither: I ‘ld have 
+thee live; 
+For, in my sense, "tis happiness to die. 290 
+Lod. O thou Othello, that wert once so 
+good, 
+Fall’n in the practice of a damned slave 
+What shall be said to thee? 
+Oth. Why, any thing: 
+An honourable murderer, if you will; 
+For nought I did in hate, but all in honour. 
+Lod. This wretch hath part confess'd his 
+villany: 
+Did you and he consent in Cassio’s death? 
+Oth. Ay 
+Cas. Dear general, I never gave you cause. 
+Oth. I do believe it, and I ask you pardon. 
+Will you, I pray, demand that demi-devil 301 
+Why he hath thus ensnared my soul and body ? 
+Jago. Demand me nothing: what you know, 
+you know: 
+From this time forth I never will speak word. 
+Lod. What, not to pray? 
+Gra. Torments will ope your lips, 
+Oth. Well, thou dost best. 
+
+
+Cold, cold, my 
+
+
+1132 
+
+
+OTHELLO 
+
+
+Rc Ge 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+Lod. Sir, you shall understand what hath 
+
+befall’n, 
+
+Which, as | think, you know not. 
+letter . 
+
+Found. in the pocket of the slain Roderigo; 
+
+And here another: the one of them imports 
+
+The death of Cassio to be undertook 
+
+By Roderigo. 
+
+Oth. O villain! 
+
+Cas. Most heathenish and most gross! 
+
+Lod. Now here ’s another discontented paper, 
+Found in his pocket too; and this, it seems, 
+Roderigo meant to have sent this damned 
+
+villain ; 
+But that belike Iago in the interim 
+Came in and satisfied him. 
+
+Oth, O the pernicious caitiff! 
+How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief 
+That was my wife's? 
+
+Cas. I found it in my chamber: 320 
+And he himself confess’d but even now 
+That there he dropp’d it for a special purpose 
+Which wrought to his desire. 
+
+Oth, O fool! fool! fool! 
+
+Cas. There is besides in Roderigo’s letter, 
+How he upbraids Iago, that he made him 
+Brave me upon the watch; whereon it came 
+That I was cast: and even but now he spake, 
+After long seeming dead, Iago hurt him, 
+Iago set him on. 
+
+Lod. You must forsake this room, and go 
+
+with us: 330 
+Your power and your command is taken off, 
+And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave, 
+If there be any cunning cruelty 
+That can torment him much and hold him long, 
+It shall be his. You shall close prisoner rest, 
+Till that the nature of your fault be known 
+To the Venetian state. Come, bring him away. 
+
+Oth. Soft you; a word or two before you go. 
+I have done the state some service, and they 
+
+know 't. 
+
+
+Here is a 
+
+
+339 | 
+
+
+No more of that. I pray you, in your letters, — 
+
+
+When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, 
+
+Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, 
+
+Nor set down aught in malice: then must you 
+speak 
+
+Of one that loved not wisely but too well; 
+
+Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought 
+
+Perplex’d in the extreme; of one whose hand, 
+
+Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away 
+
+Richer than all his tribe; of one whose sub- 
+dued eyes, 
+
+Albeit unused to the melting mood, 
+
+Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees 350 
+
+Their medicinal gum. Set you down this; 
+
+And say besides, that in Aleppo once, 
+
+Where a malignant and a turban’d Turk 
+
+Beat a Venetian and traduced the state, 
+
+I took by the throat the circumcised dog, 
+
+And smote him, thus. [Stabs himself. 
+
+Lod. O bloody period! 
+
+Gra. 
+
+Oth. I kiss’d thee ere I kill’d thee: no way 
+
+but this; 
+Killing myself, to die upon a-kiss. 
+[Falls on the bed, and dies. 
+
+Cas. This did I fear, but thought he had 
+
+no weapon; 360 
+For he was great of heart. 
+
+Lod. [To lago] O Spartan dog, 
+More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea! 
+Look on the tragic loading of this bed; 
+
+This is thy work: the object poisons sight; 
+Let it be hid. Gratiano, keep the house, 
+And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor, 
+For they sucteed on you. To you, lord 
+governor, : 
+Remains the censure of this hellish villain; 
+The time, the place, the torture: O, enforce 
+it! 
+Myself will straight aboard; and to the state 
+This heavy act with heavy heart relate. 371 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+ACOA, Soli | 
+
+
+* 
+
+
+All that's spoke is marr’d. — 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSON/E 
+
+
+Marx ANTONY, ) 
+Octavius Czsar, - triumvirs. 
+M. AEmiius Lepipus, € 
+
+Sextus Pompeius. ] 
+Domitius ENOBARBUS, 
+VENTIDIUS, 
+Eros, 
+Scarus, r 
+DERCETAS, 
+
+
+friends to An- 
+
+
+tony. 
+
+
+DEMETRIUS, 
+
+
+DoLaBELLA, | 
+PROCULEIUS, 4 
+
+
+friends to Cesar. 
+
+
+THYREUS, 
+
+
+MENEcrRaTES, } friends to Pompey. 
+
+
+VarRIUS, 
+I. 
+
+
+Scene L.° ee A room in Cleo- 
+patra’s palace. 
+
+
+Enter Demetrius and Punto. 
+
+
+Phi. Nay, but this dotage of our general's 
+O" erflows the measure: those his goodly eyes, 
+That o’er the files and musters of the war 
+Have glow’d like plated Mars, now bend, 
+F now turn, 
+
+_ The office and devotion of the’r view 
+
+Upon a tawny front: his captain’s heart, 
+Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst 
+The buckles on his breast, reneges all temper, 
+_ And is become the bellows and the fan 
+
+To cool a gipsy’s lust. 
+
+
+Flourish. Enter ANTONY, CLEOPATRA, hey 
+Ladies, the Train, with Eunuchs fanning her. 
+
+
+Look, where they come: 10 
+Take but good note, and you shall see in him 
+The triplé pillar of the world transform'd 
+Into a strumpet’s fool: behold and see. 
+Cleo. If it be love indeed, 
+much. 
+Ani. There’s beggary in the love that can 
+be reckon’d. 
+Cleo. 
+
+
+tell me how 
+
+
+Taurus, heutenant-general to Cesar. 
+
+Canipius, leutenant-general to Antony, 
+
+Situs, an officer in Ventidius’s army. 
+
+EUPHRONIUS, an ambassador from An- 
+tony to Cesar. 
+
+ALEXAs, 
+
+Marpian, a Eunuch, 
+
+SELEUCUS, 
+
+DIoMEDEs, 
+
+A Soothsayer. 
+
+A Clown. 
+
+CLEOPATRA, queen of Egypt. 
+
+
+) 
+| attendants on 
+i Cleopatra. 
+
+
+Octavia, sister to Cesar and wife to 
+Antony. 
+CHaARMIAN, } 
+
+
+ees f attendants on Cleopatra. 
+
+
+Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, and other 
+Attendants. 
+
+
+Scene: In several parts of the Roman empire. 
+
+
+Ant, Then must thou needs find out new 
+heaven, new earth. 
+
+
+Enter an Attendant. 
+
+
+Ait. News, my good lord, from Rome. 
+Ant. Grates me: the sum. 
+Cleo. Nay, hear them, Antony: 
+
+
+Fulvia perchance is angry; or, who knows 20 
+If the searce-bearded Czsar have not sent 
+His powerful mandate to you, ‘Do this, or this; 
+Take in that kingdom, and enfranchise that; 
+Perform ‘t, or else we damn thee.” 
+Ant. How, my love! 
+Cleo.. Perchance! nay, and most like: 
+You must not stay here longer, your dismission 
+Is come from Cesar; therefore hear it, Antony. 
+Where 's Fulvia’s process? Czsar’s 1 would 
+say > both? 
+Call in the messengers. As I am Egypt's queen, 
+Thou blushest, Antony; and that blood of 
+
+
+th'ne 30 
+Is Cesar's homager: else so thy cheek pays 
+shame 
+When shrill-tongued Fulvia scolds. The mes- 
+sengers! 
+Ant. Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the 
+wide arch 
+
+
+Of the ranged empire fall! Here is my space. 
+Kingdoms are clay: our dungy earth alike 
+
+
+I ‘ll set a bourn how far to be beloved. | Feeds beast as man: the nobleness of life 
+
+
+1133 
+
+
+1134 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA _ 
+
+
+Is to do thus; when such a mutual pair 
+[Embracing. 
+And such a twain can dot, in which I bind, 
+On pain of punishment, the world to weet 
+We stand up peerless. 
+leo. Excellent falsehood! 40 
+Why did he marry Fulv.a, and not love her? 
+I'll seem the fool I am not; Antony 
+Will be himself, 
+Ant. But stirr’d by Cleopatra. 
+Now, for the love of Love and her soft hours, 
+Let's not confound the time with conference 
+harsh: 
+
+There's not a minute of our lives should 
+stretch 
+
+Without some pleasure now. 
+to-night? 
+
+Cleo. Hear the ambassadors. 
+
+Ant. Fie, wrangling queen! 
+Whom every thing becomes, to chide, to laugh, 
+To weep; whose every passion fully strives 50 
+To make itself, in thee, fair and admired! 
+No messenger, but thine; and all alone 
+To-night we ‘Il wander through the streets and 
+
+note 
+The qualities of people. Come, my queen; 
+Last night you did desire it: speak not to us. 
+[Exeunt Ant. and Cleo. with their train. 
+
+Dem. Is Cesar with Antonius prized so 
+
+slight? 
+
+Phi. Sir, sometimes, when he is not Antony, 
+He comes too short of that great property 
+Which still should go with Antony. 
+
+Dem. I am full sorry 
+That he approves the common liar, who 60 
+Thus speaks of him at Rome: but I will hope 
+Of better deeds to-morrow. Rest you happy! 
+
+Exeunt. 
+
+
+What sport 
+
+
+. Scene II. The same. Another room. 
+
+
+Enter CHARMIAN, IRAs, ALEXAS, and a 
+Soothsayer. 
+
+
+Char. Lord Alexas, sweet Alexas, most any 
+thing Alexas, almost most absolute Alexas, 
+where 's the soothsayer that you praised so to 
+the queen? O, that I knew this husband, 
+which, you say, must charge his horns with 
+garlands! 
+
+Alex. Soothsayer! 
+
+Sooth. Your will? 
+
+Char. Is this the man? 
+
+know things? 
+
+Sooth. In nature's infinite book of secrecy 
+A little I can read. 
+
+
+Is"t you, sir, that 
+
+
+Alex. Show him your hand. 10 
+Enter ENOBARBUS. 
+Eno. Bring in the banquet quickly; wine 
+
+
+enough 
+
+
+Cleopatra's health to drink. 
+
+Char. Good sir, give me good fortune. 
+
+Sooth. I make not, but foresee. 
+
+Char. Pray, then, foresee me one. 
+
+Sooth. You shall be yet far fairer than 
+you are. 
+
+Char, He means in flesh. 
+
+Tras. No, you shall paint when you are old. 
+
+Char. Wrinkles forbid! 
+
+Alex. Vex not his prescience; be attentive. 
+
+Char. Hush! 
+
+Sooth. You shall be more beloving than 
+beloved. 
+
+Char. 1 had rather heat my liver with 
+drinking. 
+
+Alex, Nay, hear him. 
+
+
+Char. Good now, some excellent fortune! | 
+
+
+Let me be married to three kings in a forenoon, 
+and widow them all: let me have a child at 
+fifty, to whom Herod of Jewry may do hom- 
+age: find me to marry me with Octavius 
+Cesar, and companion me with my mistress. 
+
+Sooth. You shall outlive the lady whom 
+
+you serve. 
+
+Char. O excellent! I love long life better 
+
+than figs. 
+
+Sooth. You have seen and proved a fairer 
+
+former fortune 
+Than that which is to approach. $ 
+
+Char. Then belike my children shall have 
+no names: prithee, how many boys and 
+wenches must I have > 
+
+Sooth. If every of your wishes had a womb, 
+And fertile every wish, a million. 39 
+
+Char. Out, fool! I forgive thee for a witch. 
+
+Alex. You think none but your sheets are 
+privy to your wishes. 
+
+Char. Nay, come, tell Iras hers. 
+
+Alex. We'll know all our fortunes. 
+
+Eno. Mine, and most of our fortunes, to- 
+night, shall be—drunk to bed. 
+
+Tras. There's a palm presages chastity, if 
+nothing else. 
+
+Char. E’en as the o’erflowing Nilus pre- 
+sageth famine. 50 
+
+Iras. Go, you wild bedfellow, you cannot 
+soothsay. 
+
+Char. Nay, if an oily palm be not a fruit- 
+ful prognostication, I cannot scratch mine ear. 
+Prithee, tell her but a worky-day fortune. 
+
+Sooth, Your fortunes are alike. 
+
+Tras. But how, but how? give me par- 
+ticulars. = 
+
+Sooth. I have said. 
+
+Tras. Am I not an inch of fortune better 
+than she? 
+
+Char. Well, if you were but an inch of 
+fortune better than I, where would you choose 
+it? 
+
+
+Actals Sc We 
+
+
+; 
+: 
+| 
+| 
+
+
+————————— 
+
+
+a ae 
+
+
+Acr I, Se. II] 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+1135 
+
+
+Tras. Not in my husband's nose. 
+
+Char. Our worser thoughts heavens mend! 
+Alexas,—come, his fortune, his fortune! O, 
+let him marry a woman that cannot go, sweet 
+{sis, I beseech thee! and let her die too, and 
+give him a worse! and let worse follow worse, 
+till the worst of all follow him laughing to 
+his grave, fifty-fold a cuckold! Good Isis, 
+
+hear me this prayer, though thou deny me a 
+matter of more weight; good Isis, I beseech 
+thee! 
+
+Tras. Amen. Dear goddess, hear that 
+prayer of the people! for, as it is a heart- 
+breaking to see a handsome man loose-wived, 
+so it is a deadly sorrow to behold a foul 
+knave uncuckolded: therefore, dear Isis, keep 
+decorum, and fortune him accordingly! 
+
+Char. Amen. 79 
+
+Alex. Lo,.now, if it lay in their hands to 
+
+\ make me a cuckold, they would make them- 
+sélves whores, but they ‘Id do 't! 
+
+
+Eno. Hush! here comes Antony. 
+
+Char. Not he; the queen. 
+Enter CLEOPATRA. 
+
+'Cleo. Saw you my lord? 
+
+Eno. No, lady. 
+
+Cleo. Was he not here? 
+
+Char. No, madam. 
+
+Cleo. He was disposed to mirth; but on 
+
+
+the sudden 
+A Roman thought hath struck him. Enobar- 
+bus! 
+Eno. Madam? 
+Cleo. Seek him, and bring him hither. 
+Where ’s Alexas? 
+
+
+Alex. Here, at your service. My lord ap- 
+proaches. 90 
+Cleo. We will not look upon him: go with 
+us. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Enter Antony with a Messenger and 
+Attendants. 
+
+
+Mess. Fulvia thy wife first came into the 
+field. 
+
+
+Ant. Against my brother Lucius? 
+Mess. Ay 
+But soon that war had end, and the time's 
+state 
+
+
+Made friends of them, jointing their force 
+*gainst Cesar; 
+
+Whose etter issue in the war, from Italy, 
+
+Upon the first encounter, drave them. 
+
+
+Ani. Well, what worst? 
+
+Mess. The nature of bad news infects the 
+teller. 
+
+Ant. When it concerns the tool or coward. 
+On: 100 
+
+
+‘| There’s a great spirit gone! 
+
+
+Things that are past are done with me. "Tis 
+thus; 
+
+Who tells me true, though in his tale lie death, 
+
+I hear him as he flatter’d. 
+
+Mess. Labienus— 
+
+This is stiff news—hath, with his Parthian 
+force, 
+
+Extended Asia from Euphrates; 
+
+His conquering banner shook from Syria 
+
+To Lydia and to Ionia; 
+
+
+~Whilst— 
+Ant, Antony, thou wouldst say,— 
+Mess. O, my lord! 
+Ant. Speak to me home, mince not the 
+
+
+general tongue: 
+
+Name Cleopatra as she is call’d in Rome; 110 
+
+Rail thou in Fulvia’s phrase; and taunt my 
+faults 
+
+With such full license as both truth and malice 
+
+Have power to utter. O, then we bring forth 
+weeds, 
+
+When our quick minds lie still; and our ills 
+told us 
+
+Is as our earing. Fare thee well awhile. 
+
+
+Mess. At your noble pleasure. [Exit. 
+
+Ant. From Sicyon, ho, the news! Speak 
+there! 
+
+First Att. The man from Sicyon,—is there 
+such an one? 
+
+Sec. Att. He stays upon your will. 
+
+Ant. Let him appear. 
+
+
+These strong Egyptian fetters I must break, 
+Or lose myself in dotage. 
+
+
+Enter another Messenger. 
+What are you? 
+
+
+Fulvia thy wife is dead. 
+Where died she? 
+
+
+Sec. Mess. 
+Ant. 
+Sec. Mess. In Sicyon: 
+Her length of sickness, with what else more 
+serious 
+Importeth thee to know, this bears. 
+[Gives a letter, 
+Ant. Forbear me. 
+[Exit Sec. Messenger. 
+Thus did I de- 
+sire it: 
+What our contempt doth often hur] from us, 
+We wish it ours again; the present pleasure, 
+By revolution lowering, does become 
+The opposite of itself: she 's good, being gone; 
+The hand could pluck her back that shoved 
+her on. 131 
+I must from th’s enchanting queen break off: 
+Ten thousand harms, more than the ills | 
+know, 
+My idleness doth hatch. How now! 
+barbus! 
+
+
+Ena: 
+
+
+1136 
+
+
+Re-enter ENOBARBUS, 
+
+
+Eno. What's your pleasure, sir? 
+
+Ant. I must with haste from hence. 
+
+Eno. Why, then, we kill all our women: we 
+see how mortal an unkindness is to them; if 
+they suffer our departure, death’s the word. 
+
+Ant. I must be gone. 140 
+
+Eno. Under a compelling occasion, let 
+women die: it were pity to cast them away for 
+nothing; though, between them and a great 
+cause, they should be esteemed nothing. Cleo- 
+patra, catching but the least noise of this, 
+dies instantly; I have seen her die twenty 
+times upon far poorer moment: I do think 
+there is mettle in death, which commits some 
+loving act upon her, she hath such a celerity 
+in dying. 
+
+Ant. She is cunning past man’s thought. 
+
+Eno. Alack, sir, no; her passions are made 
+of nothing but the finest part of pure love: we 
+cannot call her winds and waters sighs and 
+tears; they are greater storms and tempests 
+than almanacs can report: this cannot be 
+cunning in her; if it be, she makes a shower 
+of rain as well as Jove. 
+
+Ant. Would I had never seen her! 
+
+Eno, O, sir, you had then left unseen a 
+wonderful piece of work; which not to have 
+been blest withal would have discredited your 
+travel. 
+
+
+Ant. Fulvia is dead, 
+
+Eno. Sir? 
+
+Ant, Fulvia is dead. 
+
+Eno. Fulvia! 
+
+Ant. Dead. 
+
+Eno, Why, sir, give the gods a thankful 
+sacrifice. When it pleaseth their deities to 
+
+
+take the wife of a man from him, it shows 
+to man the tailors of the earth; comforting 
+therein, that when old robes are worn out, 
+there are members to make new. If there 
+were no more women but Fulvia, then had you 
+indeed a cut, and the case to be lamented: this 
+grief is crowned with consolation; your old 
+smock brings forth a new petticoat: and in- 
+deed the tears live in an onion that should 
+water this sorrow. 
+
+Ant. The business she hath broached in 
+
+the state 
+
+Cannot endure my absence. 179 
+
+Eno. And the business you have broached 
+here cannot be without you; especially that of 
+Cleopatra's, which wholly depends on your 
+abode. 
+
+Ant. No more light answers. 
+
+officers 
+
+Have notice what we purpose. I shall break 
+The cause of our expedience to the queen, 
+
+
+Let our 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+7. 
+
+[Acr I, Sc. HI ’ 
+4 
+And get her leave to part. For not alone ‘ 
+The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches, 
+Do strongly speak to us; but the letters too | 
+Of many our contriving friends in Rome 
+Petition us at home: Sextus Pompeius 190 — 
+Hath given the dare to Cesar, and commands 
+The empire of the sea: our slippery people, 
+Whose love is never link'd to the deserver 
+Till his deserts are past, begin to throw 
+Pompey the Great and all his dignities ; 
+Upon his son; who, high in name and power, — 
+Higher than both in blood and life, stands up 
+For the main soldier: whose qual ty, going on, _ 
+The sides 0’ the world may danger: much is 
+
+breeding, 199 - 
+Which, like the courser’s hair, hath yet but 
+
+life, 
+And not a serpent’s poison. Say, our pleasure, ._ 
+To such whose place is under us, requires 
+Our quick remove from hence. 
+
+
+Eno. I shall do't. [Exeunt. 
+
+‘ 
+
+Scene III. The same. Another room. 
+Enter CiEopaTRA, CHARMIAN, IRas, and — 
+ALEXAS, “4 
+
+Cleo. Where is he? . 
+Char. I did not see him since, | 
+
+
+Cleo. See where he is, who's with him, — 
+what he does: | 
+I did not send you: if you find him sad, j 
+Say I am dancing; if in mirth, report j 
+That I am sudden sick: quick, and return. 
+[Exit Alexas. 
+Char. Madam, methinks, if you did love : 
+him dearly, 
+You do not hold the method to enforce : 
+The like from him. : 
+Cleo, What should I do, I do not? 
+Char. In each thing give him way, cross — 
+him in nothing. 
+Cleo, Thou teachest like a fool; the way 
+to lose him. 10 
+Char. Tempt him not so too far; I wish, 
+forbear: 
+In, time we hate that which we often fear. 
+But here comes Antony. 
+
+
+Enter ANTONY. 
+
+
+Cleo. I am sick and sullen. 
+Ant. I am sorry to give breathing to my 
+purpose,— 
+Cleo. Help me away, dear Charmian; I 
+shall fall: 
+It cannot be thus long, the sides of nature 
+Will not sustain it. 
+Ant. Now, my dearest queen,— 
+Cleo, Pray you, stand farther from me. 
+
+
+Ant. What's the matter? 
+
+
+Se, ee ee ee a 
+
+
+oe ae 
+
+
+i 
+yi 
+
+
+ine 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+cr I, Sc. III} 
+
+
+ANTONY AND ‘CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+1137 
+
+
+Cleo, I know, by that same eye, there's 
+some good news. 19 
+What says the married woman? You may go: 
+Would she had never given you leave to come! 
+‘Let her not say ‘tis I that keep you here: 
+I have no power upon you; hers you are. 
+Ant. The gods best know,— 
+Cleo. O; never was there queen 
+So mightily betray’d! yet at the first 
+I saw the treasons planted. 
+
+
+Ant. Cleopatra,— 
+Cleo. Why should I think you can be mine 
+and: true, 
+Though you in swearing shake the throned 
+gods, 
+Who have been false to Fulvia? Riotous 
+madness, 
+
+
+To be entangled with those mouth-made vows, 
+‘Which break themselves in swearing! 
+
+
+Ant. Most sweet queen,— 31 
+Cleo. Nay, pray you, seek no colour for 
+your going, 
+But bid farewell, and go: when you sued 
+staying, 
+
+
+Then was the time for words: no going then; 
+Eternity was in our lips and eyes, 
+Bliss in our brows’ bent; none our parts so 
+poor, 
+But was a race of heaven: they are so still, 
+Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world, 
+Art turn'd the greatest liar. 
+
+
+nt, 
+Cleo. I would I had 
+shouldst know 
+There were a heart in Egypt. 
+Ant. Hear me, queen: 
+The strong necessity of time commands 
+Our services awhile; but my full heart 
+Remains in use with you. Our Italy 
+_ Shines ‘o’er with civil swords: Sextus Pompeius 
+Makes his approaches to the port of Rome: 
+Equality of two domestic powers 
+Breed scrupulous faction: the hated, grown 
+to strength, 
+Are newly grown to leve: the condemn'd 
+Pompey, 
+Rich in his father’s honour, creeps apace 50 
+Into the hearts of such as have not thrived 
+Upon the present state, whose numbers 
+; threaten; 
+And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge 
+By any desperate change: my more particular, 
+And that which most with you should safe 
+my, going, 
+Is Fulvia’s death. 
+Cleo. Though age from folly could not 
+give me freedom, 
+It does from childishness: can Fulvia die? 
+Ant. She's dead, my queen: 
+
+
+How now, lady! 
+thy inches; thou 
+40 
+
+
+Look here, and at thy sovereign leisure read 
+The garboils she awaked; at the last, best: 
+See when and where she died. 
+
+Cleo. O most false love! 
+Where be the sacred vials thou shouldst fill 
+With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see, 
+In ome death, how mine received shall 
+
+e. 
+Ant. Quarrel no more, but be prepared to 
+know 3 
+
+The purposes I bear; which are, or cease, 
+As you shall give the advice. By the fire 
+That quickens Nilus’ slime, I go from hence 
+Thy soldier, servant; making peace or war 70 
+As thou affect’st. 
+
+Cleo. Cut my lace, Charmian, come; 
+But let it be: I am quickly ill, and well, 
+
+So Antony loves. 
+
+Ant. My precious queen, forbear; 
+And give true evidence to his love, which 
+
+stands 
+An honourable trial. 
+
+Cleo. So Fulvia told me. 
+
+I prithee, turn aside and weep for her; 
+Then bid adieu to me, and say the tears 
+Belong to Egypt: good now, play one scene 
+Of excellent dissembling; and let it look 
+Like perfect honour. 
+
+
+Ant. You'll heat my blood: no more. 80 
+Cleo: You can do better yet; but this is 
+meetly. 
+Ant. Now, by my sword,— 
+Cleo. And target. Still he mends; 
+But this is not the best. Look, prithee, Char- 
+mian, 
+
+
+How this Herculean Roman does become 
+The carriage of his chafe. 
+
+Ant. I'll leave you, lady. 
+
+Cleo. Courteous lord, one word. 
+Sir, you and | must part, but that’s not it: 
+Sir, you and | have loved, but there ’s not it; 
+That you know well: something it is 1 would,— 
+O, my oblivion is a very Antony, 90 
+And I am all forgotten. 
+
+Ant. But that your royalty 
+Holds idleness your subject, I should take you 
+For idleness itself. 
+
+Cleo. "Tis sweating labour 
+To bear such idleness so near the heart 
+As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me; 
+Since my becomings kill me, when they do not 
+Eye well to you: your honour calls you hence; 
+Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly, 
+And all the gods go with you! upon your sword 
+
+
+Sit laurel victory! and smooth success 100 
+Be strew'd before your feet! 
+Ant. Let us go. Come; 
+
+
+Our separation so abides, and flies, 
+That thou, residing here, go'st yet with me. 
+
+
+1138 
+
+
+And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee. 
+Away! [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Rome. Cesar's house. 
+
+
+Enter Octavius Cesar, reading a letter, 
+Lepipus, and their Train. 
+
+
+Ces. You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth 
+know, 
+It is not Cesar's natural vice to hate. 
+Our great competitor: from Alexandria 
+This is the news: he fishes, drinks, and wastes 
+The lamps of night in revel; is not more 
+manlike 
+Than Cleopatra; nor the queen of Ptolemy 
+More womanly than he; hardly gave audience, 
+
+
+or 
+
+Vouchsafed to think he had partners: you 
+shall find there 
+
+A man who is the abstract of all faults 
+
+That all men follow. 
+
+Lep. I must not think there are 10 
+
+Evils enow to darken all his goodness: 
+
+His faults in him seem as the spots of heaven, 
+
+More fiery by night's blackness; hereditary, 
+
+Rather than purchased; what he cannot 
+change, 
+
+Than what he chooses. 
+
+Ces. You are too indulgent. Let us grant, 
+
+it is not 
+
+Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy; 
+
+To give a kingdom for a mirth; to sit 
+
+And keep the turn of tippling with a slave; 
+
+To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet 
+
+With knaves that smell of sweat: say this 
+becomes him,— 21 
+
+As his composure must be rare indeed 
+
+Whom these things cannot blemish,—yet must 
+Antony 
+
+No way excuse his soils, when we do bear 
+
+So great weight in his lightness. If he fill'’d 
+
+His vacancy with his voluptuousness, 
+
+Full surfeits, and the dryness of his bones, 
+
+Call on him fort: but to confound such time, 
+
+That drums him from his sport, and speaks 
+as loud 
+
+As his-own state and ours,—'tis to be chid 30 
+
+As we rate boys, who, being mature in know- 
+ledge, 
+
+Pawn their experience to their present pleasure, 
+
+And so rebel to judgement. 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+Lep. Here's more news. 
+Mess. Thy biddings have been done; and 
+every hour, 
+Most noble Cesar, shalt thou have report 
+How ‘tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea; 
+And it appears he is beloved of those 
+That only have fear'd Cesar: to the ports 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+[Act I, Se. IV 
+
+
+The discontents repair, and men’s reports 
+Give him much wrong’d. 
+Ces. I should have known no less. 
+It hath been taught-us from the primal state, 
+That he which is was wish'd until he were; 
+And the ebb’d man, ne'er loved till ne'er 
+worth love, 
+
+
+Comes dear'd by being lack'd. This common 
+
+
+Ys 
+Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream, 
+Goes to and back, lackeying the varying tide, 
+To rot itself with motion. 
+
+Mess. Cesar, I bring thee word, 
+Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates, 
+Make the sea serve them, which they ear and 
+
+wound 
+
+
+With keels of every kind: many hot inroads _ 
+
+
+They make in Italy; the borders maritime 
+
+Lack blood to think ont, and flush youth 
+revolt: 
+
+No vessel can peep forth, but ‘tis as soon 
+
+Taken as seen; for Pompey's name surikes 
+
+
+more 
+Than could his war resisted. 
+Ces. Antony, 
+
+
+Leave thy lascivious wassails. When thou once 
+Wast beaten from Modena, where thou slew’st 
+Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel 
+Did famine follow; whom thou fought’st 
+against, 
+Though daintily brought up, with patience more 
+Than savages could suffer: thou didst drink 
+The stale of horses, and the gilded puddle 
+Which beasts would cough at: thy palate then 
+did deign 
+The roughest berry on the rudest hedge; 
+Yea, like the stag, when snow the pasture 
+sheets, 
+The barks of trees thou browsed’st; on the 
+Alps 
+It is reported thou didst eat strange flesh, 
+Which some did die to look on: and all this— 
+It wounds thine honour that I speak it now— 
+Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek 70 
+So much as lank'd not. 
+Lep. ‘Tis pity of him, 
+Ces. Let his shames quickly 
+Drive him to Rome: ‘tis time we twain 
+Did show ourselves i’ the field; and to that end 
+Assemble we immediate council: Pompey 
+Thrives in our idleness. 
+Lep. To-morrow, Cesar, 
+I shall be furnish'd to inform you rightly 
+Both what by sea and land I can be able 
+To front this present time. 
+Ces. Till which encounter, 
+It is my business too. Farewell. 8 
+Lep. Farewell, my lord: what you shal! 
+know meantime 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+~ Act I, Sc. VJ 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+1139 
+
+
+Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir, 
+To let me be partaker. 
+Ces. Doubt not, sir; 
+
+
+I knew it for my bond. [Exeunt. 
+Scene V. Alexandria. Cleopatra's palace. 
+
+
+Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAs, and 
+Maprpian. 
+Cleo. Charmian! 
+Char. Madam? 
+Cleo. Ha, ha! 
+Give me to drink mandragora. 
+Char. Why, madam? 
+Cleo. That I might sleep out this great gap 
+of time 
+My Antony is away. 
+Char. You think of him too much. 
+Cleo. O, ‘tis treason! 
+
+
+Char. 
+Cleo. 
+
+
+Madan, I trust, not so. 
+Thou, eunuch Mardian! 
+_ Mar. What's your highness’ pleasure? 
+Cleo. Not now to hear thee sing; I take 
+no pleasure 
+In aught an eunuch has: ‘tis well for thee, 10 
+That, being unseminar’d, thy freer thoughts 
+May not fly forth of Egypt. Hast thou af- 
+fections ? 
+Mar. Yes, gracious madam. 
+Cleo. Indeed! 
+Mar. Not in deed, madam; for I can do 
+nothing 
+But what indeed is honest to be done: 
+Yet have | fierce affections, and think 
+
+
+What Venus did with Mars. 
+Cleo. O Charmian, 
+Where think’st thou he is now? Stands he, 
+or sits he? 
+
+
+Or does he walk? or is he on his horse? 20 
+
+O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony! 
+
+Do bravely, horse! for wot'st thou whom thou 
+movest? 
+
+The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm 
+
+~ And burgonet of men. He's speaking now, 
+
+Or murmuring “Where's my serpent of old 
+Nile?’ 
+
+For so he calls me: now I feed myself 
+
+With most delicious poison. Think on me,. 
+
+That am with Pheebus’ amorous pinches black, 
+
+And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted 
+Cesar, 29 
+
+When thou wast here above the ground, I was 
+
+A morsel for a monarch: and great Pompey 
+
+Would stand and make his eyes grow in my 
+brow; 
+
+There would he anchor his aspect and die 
+
+
+With looking on his life. 
+Enter ALEXas. 
+
+
+Alex, Sovereign of Sgypt, hail! 
+
+
+Cleo. How much unlike art thou Mark 
+Antony! 
+Yet, coming from him, that great medicine 
+
+
+a 
+
+With his tinct gilded thee. 
+
+How goes it with my brave Mark Antony? 
+Alex. Last thing he did, dear queen, 
+
+He kiss'd,—the last of many doubled kisses,— 
+
+This orient pearl. His speech sticks in my 
+
+heart. 4] 
+
+Cleo. Mine ear must pluck it thence. 
+Alex, ‘Good friend,’ quoth he, 
+
+“Say, the firm Roman to great Egypt sends 
+
+This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot, 
+
+To mend the petty present, I will piece 
+
+
+Her opulent throne with kingdoms; all the 
+east, 
+Say thou, shall call her mistress." So he nodded, 
+
+
++ And soberly did mount an arm-gaunt steed, 
+Who ana so high, that what I would have 
+spoke 
+Was Soaks dumb'd by him. 
+Cleo. What, was he sad or merry? 50 
+Alex. Like to the time o’ the year between 
+the extremes 
+Of hot and cold, he was nor sad nor merry. 
+
+
+Cleo. O well-divided disposition! Note 
+him, 
+Note him, good Charmian, ‘tis the man; but 
+note him: 
+
+
+He was not sad, for he would shine on those 
+
+That make their looks by his; he was not 
+merry, 
+
+ihe seem'd to tell them hic remembrance 
+ay 
+
+In Egypt with his joy; but between both: 
+
+O heavenly mingle! Be’st thou sad or merry. 
+
+The violence of either thee becomes, 
+
+So does itno man else. Met'st thou my posts? 
+
+Alex. Ay, madam, twenty several mes- 
+
+
+sengers: 
+Why do you send so thick? 
+Cleo. Who's born that day 
+
+
+When I forget to send to Antony, 
+
+Shall die a beggar. Ink and paper, Char- 
+mian. 
+
+Welcome; my good Alexas. Did I, Charmian, 
+
+Ever love Cesar so? 
+
+
+Char. O that brave Cesar! 
+Cleo. Be choked with such another em- 
+phasis! 
+Say, the brave Antony. 
+Char. The valiant Cesar! 
+Cleo. 
+
+
+By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth, 
+If thou with Casar paragon again 71 
+My man of men. 
+Char. By your most gracious pardon, 
+I sing but after you. 
+Cleo. 
+
+
+My salad devs 
+
+
+1140 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+When I was green in judgement: cold in 
+blood, 
+
+To say as | said then! 
+
+Get me ink and paper: 
+
+He shall have every day a several greeting, 
+
+Or I'll unpeople Egypt. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT II, 
+
+
+Scene I. Messina. Pompey's house. 
+
+
+Enter Pompey, Menecrates, and MENAs, 
+in warlike manner. ; 
+
+
+Pom. If the great gods be just, they shall 
+
+
+But, come, away ; 
+
+
+assist 
+The deeds of justest men. 
+Mene. Know, worthy Pompey, 
+
+
+That what they do delay, they not deny. 
+Pom. Whiles we are suitors to their throne, 
+
+
+decays 
+The thing we sue for. 
+Mene. We, ignorant of ourselves, 
+
+
+Beg often our own harms, which the wise 
+powers 
+
+Deny us for our good; so find we profit 
+
+By losing of our prayers. 
+
+Pom. I shall do well: 
+
+The people love me, and the sea is mine; 
+
+My powers are crescent, and my auguring hope 
+
+Says it will come to the full. Mark Antony 
+
+In Egypt sits at dinner, and will make 
+
+No wars without doors: Cesar gets money 
+where 
+
+He loses hearts: Lepidus flatters both, 
+
+Of both is flatter’d; but he neither loves, 
+
+Nor either cares for him. 
+
+Men. Cesar and Lepidus 
+Are in the field: a mighty strength they carry. 
+Pom. Where have you this? ‘tis false. 
+
+Men. From Silvius, sir. 
+Pom. He dreams: I know they are in 
+Rome together, 
+Looking for Antony. But all the charms of 
+love, 20 
+Salt Cleopatra, soften thy waned lip! 
+Let witchcraft join with beauty, lust with 
+both! 
+Tie up the libertine in a field of feasts, 
+Keep his brain fuming; Epicurean cooks 
+Sharpen with cloyless sauce his appetite; 
+That sleep and feeding may prorogue his 
+honour 
+
+
+Even till a Lethe’d dulness! 
+Enter Varrivs. 
+
+
+How now, Varrius! 
+Var. This is most certain that I shall de- 
+liver : 
+Mark Antony is every hour in Rome 
+Expected: since he went from Egypt ‘tis 30 
+
+
+A space for further travel. 
+
+Pom. I could have given less matter 
+A better ear. Menas, I did not think 
+This amorous surfeiter would have donn’d his 
+
+helm 
+For such a petty war: his soldiership 
+Is twice the other twain: but let us rear 
+The higher our opinion, that our stirring 
+Can from the lap of Egypt's widow pluck — 
+The ne’er-lust-wearied Antony. 
+
+Men. I cannot hope 
+Cesar and Antony shall well greet together: 
+His wife that’s dead did trespasses to Cesar; 
+His brother warr’d upon him; although, I 
+
+think, 
+Not moved by Antony. 
+
+Pom. I know not, Menas, 
+How lesser enmities may give way to greater. 
+Were 't not that we stand up against them all, 
+
+
+"Twere pregnant they should square between 
+
+
+themselves; 
+
+For they have entertained cause enough 
+To draw their swords: but how the fear of us 
+
+ay cement their divisions and bind up 
+The petty difference, we yet not know. 
+Be't as our gods will have 't! It only stands 
+Our lives upon to use our strongest hands. 
+Come, Menas. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. Rome. The house of Lepidus, 
+Enter ENoparsus and LeEpipus. 
+
+
+Lep. Good Enobarbus, ‘tis a worthy deed, 
+
+And shall become you well, to entreat your 
+captain 
+To soft and gentle speech. 
+
+Eno. I shall entreat him 
+To answer like himself: if Cesar move him, 
+Let Antony look over Cesar’s head 
+And speak as loud as Mars. By Jupiter, 
+Were I the wearer of Antonius’ beard, 
+
+I would not shave ’t to-day. 
+
+Lep. "Tis not a time 
+For private stomaching. ea 
+Eno. Every time : 
+Serves for the matter that is then born in‘t, 10 
+
+Lep. But small to greater matters must 
+
+give way. 
+
+Eno. Not if the small come first. 
+
+Lep. Your speech is passion: 
+But, pray you, stirno embers up. Here comes 
+The noble Antony. 
+
+Enter ANTONY and VENTIDIUS. 
+
+Eno. And yonder, Cesar. 
+
+Enter Cesar, Mecenas, and AcripPA. 
+
+Ant. If we compose well here, to Parthia 
+Hark, Ventidius. 
+
+Ces. I do not know, 
+Meceenas; ask Agrippa. 
+
+
+PS oa 
+[Aer II, Sc. I~ 
+
+
+es 
+
+
+ Acr Il, Se. II] 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+114) 
+
+
+Lep. Noble friends, 
+That which combined us was most great, and 
+let not 
+A leaner action rend us. What's amiss, 
+May it be gently heard: when we debate 20 
+Our trivial difference loud, we do commit 
+Murder m healing wounds: then, noble part- 
+ners, 
+The rather, for I earnestly beseech, 
+Touch you the sourest points with sweetest 
+terms, 
+Nor curstness grow to the matter. 
+Ant. ‘Tis spoken well. 
+Were we before our armies, and to fight, 
+
+
+I should do thus. { Flourish. 
+Ces. Welcome to Rome. 
+Ani. Thank you. 
+Ces. Sit. 
+Ant. Sit, sir. 
+Ces. Nay, then. 
+
+~ Ant. I learn, you take things ill which are 
+not so, 
+
+Or being, concern you not. 
+
+Ces. I must be laugh’d at, 30 
+
+
+If, or for nothing or a little, I 
+Should say myself offended, and with you 
+Chiefly i’ the world; more laugh’d at, that | 
+
+
+should 
+Once name you derogately, when to sound 
+your name 
+It not concern’d me. 
+Ant. My being in Egypt, Cesar, 
+
+
+What was’t to you? 
+Ces. No more than my residing here at 
+. Rome ; 
+Might be to you in Egypt: yet, if you there 
+Did practise on my state, your being in Egypt 
+Might be my question. 
+Ant. How intend you, practised? 40 
+Ces. You may be pleased to catch at mine 
+intent 
+By what did here befal me. Your wife and 
+brother 
+Made wars upon me; and their contestation 
+‘Was theme for you, you were the word of war. 
+Ant. You do mistake your business; my 
+brother never 
+Did urge me in his act: I did inquire it; 
+And have my learning from some true reports, 
+That drew their swords with you. Did he not 
+rather 
+Discredit my authority with yours; 49 
+
+
+And make the wars alike against my stomach, | 
+
+
+Having alike your cause? Of this my letters 
+
+Before did satisfy you. If you'll patch a 
+quarrel, 
+
+As matter whole you have not to make it with, 
+
+It must not be with this. 
+
+
+Ces, You vraise yourself 
+
+
+By laying defects of judgement to me; but 
+You patch’d up your excuses. 
+Ant. Not so, not so; 
+I know you could not lack, | am certain on’t, 
+Very necessity of this thought, that I, 
+Your partner in the cause ‘gainst which he 
+fought, 
+Could not with graceful eyes attend those wars 
+Which fronted mine own peace. As for my 
+wife, 6l 
+I would you had her spirit in such another: 
+The third o’ the world is yours; which with a 
+snaffle 
+You may pace easy, but not such a wife. 
+Eno. Would we had all such wives, that 
+the men might go to wars with the women! 
+Ant. So much uncurbable, her garboils, 
+Cesar, 
+Made out of her impatience, which not wanted 
+Shrewdness of policy too, I grieving grant 
+Did you too much disquiet: for that you must 
+But say, I could not help it. 
+Ces. I wrote to you 71] 
+When rioting in Alexandria; you 
+Did pocket up my letters, and with taunts 
+Did gibe my missive out of audience. 
+Ant. Sw, 
+He fell upon me ere admitted: then 
+Three kings I had newly feasted, and did 
+want 
+Of what I was i’ the morning: but next day 
+I told him of myself; which was as much 
+As to have ask'd him pardon. Let this fellow 
+Be nothing of our strife; if we contend, 80 
+Out of our question wipe him. 
+
+
+Ces. You have broken 
+The article of your oath; which you shall 
+never 
+Have tongue to charge me with. 
+Lep. Soft, Cesar! 
+Ant. No, 
+
+
+Lepidus, let him speak: 
+The honour is sacred which he talks on now, 
+Supposing that I lack’d it. But, on, Cesar; 
+The article of my oath. 
+Ces. To lend me arms and aid when } 
+required them; 
+The which you both denied. 
+Ant. Neglected, rather; 
+And then when poison’d hours had bound me 
+up 90 
+From mine own knowledge. As nearly as I 
+may, 
+I "ll play the penitent to you: but mine honesty 
+Shall not make poor my greatness, nor my 
+
+
+power 
+Work without it. Truth is, that Fulvia. 
+
+
+To have me out of Egypt, made wars here; 
+For which myself, the ignorant motive, do 
+
+
+1142 
+
+
+So far ask pardon as befits mine honour 
+To stoop in such a case. 
+Lep. ‘Tis noble spoken. 
+Mec. If it might please you, to enforce no 
+further 
+The griefs between ye: to forget them quite 
+Were to remember that the present need 101 
+spe to atone you. 
+Lep. Worthily spoken, Mecenas. 
+Eno. Or, if you borrow one another's love 
+for the instant, you may, when you hear no 
+more words of Pompey, return it again: you 
+shall have time to wrangle in when you have 
+nothing else to do. 
+
+
+Ant. Thou art a soldier only: speak no 
+more. 
+Eno. That truth should be silent I had 
+
+
+almost forgot. 110 
+Ant. You wrong this presence; therefore 
+speak no more. 
+Eno. Go to, then; your considerate stone. 
+Ces. I do not much dislike the matter, but 
+The manner of his speech; fort cannot be 
+We shall remain in friendship, our conditions 
+So differing in their acts. Yet, if I knew 
+What hoop should hold us stanch, from edge 
+to edge 
+O' the world I would pursue it. 
+
+
+Agr. Give me leave, Cesar,— 
+
+Ces. Speak, Agrippa. 
+
+Agr. Thou hast a sister by the mother’s 
+side, 120 
+
+
+Admired Octavia: great Mark Antony 
+Is now a widower. “ 
+
+Ces. Say not so, Agrippa: 
+If Cleopatra heard you, your reproof 
+Were well deserved of rashness. 
+
+Ant. I am not married, Cesar: 
+Agrippa further speak. 
+
+Agr. To hold you in perpetual amity, 
+
+To make you brothers, and to knit your 
+hearts 
+With an unslipping knot, take Antony 
+Octavia to his wife; whose beauty claims 130 
+No worse a husband than the best of men; 
+Whose virtue and whose general graces speak 
+That which none else can utter. By this 
+marriage, 
+All little jealousies, which now seem great, 
+And all great fears, which now import their 
+dangers, 
+Would then be nothing: iruths would be tales, 
+Where now half tales be truths: her love to 
+both 
+Would, each to other and all loves to both, 
+Draw after her. Pardon what I have spoke; 
+For ‘tis a studied, not a present thought, 140 
+By duty ruminated. 
+Ant. Will Cesar speak? 
+
+
+let me hear 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+[Act II, Sc. II 
+
+
+Ces. Not till he hears how Antony is 
+touch’d 
+With what is spoke already. 
+
+
+Ant. What power is in Agrippa, 
+If I would say, ‘Agrippa, be it so,” 
+To make this good? 
+
+Ces. The power of Cesar, and 
+H's power unto Octavia. 
+
+Ant. May I never 
+
+
+To this good purpose, that so fairly shows, 
+Dream of impediment! Let me have thy 
+hand: 
+Further this act of grace; and from this hour 
+The heart of brothers govern in our loves 150 
+And sway our great designs! 
+Ces. There is my hand, 
+A sister I bequeath you, whom no brother 
+Did ever love so dearly: let her live 
+To join our kingdoms and our hearts; and 
+never 
+
+
+Fly off our loves again! 
+Lep. Happily, amen! 
+Ant. | did not think to draw my sword 
+
+
+*gainst Pompey; 
+For he hath laid strange courtesies and great 
+Of late upon me: I must thank him only, 
+Lest my remembrance suffer ill report; 
+At heel of that, defy him. 
+
+Lep. Time calls upon'‘s: 
+Of us must Pompey presently be sought, 161 
+Or else he seeks out us. 
+
+Where lies he? 
+
+
+Ant. 
+Ces. About the mount Misenum. 
+Ant. What is his strength by land? 
+Ces. Great and increasing: but by sea 
+He is an absolute master. 
+Ant. So is the fame. 
+Would we had spoke together! Haste we for 
+it: 
+Yet, ere we put ourselves in arms, dispatch 
+we 
+The business we have talk’d of. 
+Ces. With most gladness; ~* 
+And do invite you to my sister's view, 170 
+
+
+Whither straight I'll lead you. 
+
+
+Ant. Let us, Lepidus, 
+Not lack your company. 
+Lep. Noble Antony, 
+
+
+Not aie should detain me. 
+[Flourish. Exeunt Cotas Antony, 
+and Lepidus. 
+
+Mec. Welcome from Egypt, sir. 
+
+Eno. Half the heart of Cesar, worthy 
+Mecenas! My honourable friend, Agrippa! 
+
+Agr. Good Enobarbus! 
+
+Mec. We have cause to be glad that mat- 
+ters are so well digested. You stayed well 
+by ‘t in Egypt. 
+
+Eno. Ay, sir; we did ser day out of 
+
+
+r he Il, Se. HI] 
+
+
+- countenance, and made the night light with 
+drinking. 
+
+Mec. Eight wild-boars roasted whole at a 
+breakfast, and but twelve persons there; is 
+this true? 
+
+Eno. This was but as a fly by an eagle: 
+we had much more monstrous matter of 
+
+_ feast, which worthily deserved noting. 
+
+Mec, She’s a most triumphant lady, if re- 
+port be square to her. 190 
+
+-Eno. When she first met Mark Antony, she 
+pursed up his heart, upon the river of Cydnus. 
+
+Agr. There she appeared indeed; or my 
+
+_ reporter devised well for her. 
+Eno. 1 will tell you. 
+The barge she sat in, like a burnish’d throne, 
+Burn'd on the water: the poop was beaten 
+gold; ' 
+‘ Purple the sails, and so perfumed that 
+_ The winds were love-sick with them; the oars 
+were silver, 
+Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and 
+made 2 
+The water which they beat to follow faster, 
+amorous of their strokes. For her own 
+person, 
+It beggar'd all description: she did lie 
+In her pavilion—cloth-of-gold of tissue— 
+O’er-picturing that Venus where we see 
+The fancy outwork nature: on each side her 
+Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids, 
+With divers-colour’d fans, whose wind did seem 
+To glow the delicate cheeks which they did 
+. cool, 
+And what they undid did. 
+Agr. O, rare for Antony! 210 
+; Eno. Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides, 
+_ So many mermaids, tended her i’ the eyes, 
+_ And made their bends adornings: at the helm 
+E A seeming mermaid steers: the silken tackle 
+c Swell with the touches of those flower-soft 
+hands, ; 
+_ That yarely frame the office. From the barge 
+A strange invisible perfume hits the sense 
+Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast 
+Her people out upon her; and Antony, 
+_ Enthroned i’ the market-place, did sit alone, 
+_ Whistling to the air; which, but for vacancy, 
+Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too 
+. And made a gap in nature. 
+Agr. Rare Egyptian! 
+Eno. Upon her landing, Antony sent to her, 
+Invited her to supper: she replied, 
+_ It should be better he became her guest; 
+Which she entreated: our courteous Antony, 
+om ne'er the word of ‘No’ woman heard 
+speak, 
+Being barber’d ten times o’er, goes to the feast, 
+
+
+And for his ordinary pays his heart 230 
+
+
+——e 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+For what his eyes eat only. 
+
+Agr, Royal wench! 
+
+She made great Caesar lay his sword to bed: 
+He plough’d her, and she cropp’d. 
+
+Eno. 1 saw her onee 
+Hop forty paces through the public street; 
+And having lost her breath, she spoke, ‘and 
+
+panted, 
+That she did make defect perfection, 
+And, breathless, power breathe forth. 
+
+Mec. Now Antony must leave her utterly. 
+
+Eno. Never; he will not: 
+
+Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale 240 
+Her infinite variety: other women cloy 
+
+The appetites they feed; but che makes hungry 
+Where most she satisfies: for vilest things 
+Become themselves ii her; that the holy priests 
+Bless her when she is riggish. 
+
+Mec. If beauty, wisdom, modesty, can settle 
+The heart of Antony, Octavia is 
+A blessed lottery to him. 
+
+Agr. Let us go. 
+
+
+00 | Good Enobarbus, make yourself my guesi 249 
+
+
+Whilst you abide here. 
+Eno. Humbly. sir, I thank you. [Exeuni. 
+
+
+Scene II. 
+
+
+Enter Antony, Cesar, Octavia between 
+them, and Attendants. 5 
+
+
+The same. Caesar's house. 
+
+
+Ant. The world and my great office wil 
+
+
+sometimes 
+Divide me from your bosom. 
+Octa. All which time 
+
+
+Before the gods my knee shall bow my prayers 
+
+
+‘To them for you. 
+
+
+Ant. Good night, sir. My Octavia, 
+Read not my blemishes in the world’s report: 
+I have not kept my square; but that to come 
+Shall all be done ‘by the rule. Good night, 
+
+dear lady. 
+Good night, sir. 
+
+Ces. Good night. 
+
+[Exeunt Cesar and Octavia. 
+
+
+Enter Soothsayer. 
+
+
+Ant. Now, sirrah? you do wish yourself 
+in Egypt? 10 
+Sooth. Would I had never come from 
+thence, nor you 
+Thither! 
+Ant. If you can, your reason? 
+Sooth. I see it m 
+My motion, have it not in my tongue: bui yet 
+Hie you to Egypt again. 
+
+
+Ant. ay to me, 
+Whose fortunes shall rise higher, Casar’s or 
+mine? 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+144 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA {Acr II, Sc. V 
+
+
+Sooth, Cesar’s. 
+Therefore, O Antony, stay not by his side: 
+Thy demon, that's thy spirit which keeps thee, is 
+Noble, courageous, high, unmatchable, 20 
+Where Cesar's is not; but, near him, thy 
+angel 
+Becomes a fear, as be ng o'erpower'd: therefore 
+Make space enough between you. 
+Ant. Speak this no more. 
+Sooth. Te none but thee; no more, but 
+when to thee. 
+If thou dost play with him at any.game, , 
+Thow “art sure to lose; and, of that natural 
+luck, 
+ie beats thee ‘gainst the odds: thy lustre 
+thickens, 
+When he shines by: I say again, thy spirit 
+is all afraid to govern thee near him; 
+But, he away, ‘tis noble. 
+Ant. Get thee gone: 30 
+Say to Ventidius I would speak with him: 
+[Exit Soothsayer. 
+He shall to Parthia. Be it art or hap, 
+He hath spoken true: the very dice obey him; 
+And in our sports my better cunning faints 
+Under his chance: if we draw lots, he speeds; 
+His cocks do win the battle still of mine, 
+When it is all to nought; and his quails ever 
+Beat mine, inhoop’d, at odds. I will to Egypt: 
+And though I make this marr.age for my peace, 
+I’ the east my pleasure lies. 
+
+
+Enter VENTIDIUS. 
+
+
+O, come Ventidius, 40 
+You must to Parthia: your commission 's 
+ready; 
+
+
+Follow me, and receive 't. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+A street. 
+Enter Lepipus, MecNas, and AGRIPPA. 
+
+
+Scene IV. The same. 
+
+
+Lep. Trouble yourselves no further: pray 
+you, hasten 
+‘Your generals after. 
+Agr. Sir, Mark Antony 
+Will e’en but kiss Octavia, and we 'll follow. 
+Lep. Till I shall see you in your soldier's 
+dress, 
+Which will become you both, farewell. 
+Mec. We shall, 
+As I[ conceive the journey, be at the Mount 
+‘Before you, Lepidus. 
+Lep. Your way is shorter; 
+My purposes do draw me much about: 
+You ‘ll win two days upon me. 
+Mec. t 
+Agr. 
+Lep. Farewell. 
+
+
+Sir, good success! 
+
+
+fExeunt. 10] 
+
+
+Scene V. Alexandria. 
+
+
+Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and 
+ALEXAS. 
+
+
+Cleopatra's palace. 
+
+
+Cleo, Give me some music; music, moody 
+food 
+Of us that trade in love. 
+Attend. The music, ho! 
+
+
+Enter Marpian the Eunuch, 
+
+
+Cleo. Let it alone; let's to billiards: come, 
+Charmian. 
+
+Char. My arm is sore; best play with 
+Mardian. 
+
+Cleo. As well a woman with an eunuch 
+play’d 
+
+As with a woman. 
+
+me, sir? 
+
+Mar. As well as I can, madam. 
+
+Cleo, And when good-will is 
+
+though 't come too short, 
+The actor may plead pardon. I'll none now: 
+Give me mine angle; we'll to the river: there, 
+My music playing far off, I will betray 11 
+Tawny-finn’d fishes; my bended hook shall 
+pierce 
+Their slimy jaws; and, as I draw them up, 
+I ‘ll think them every one an Antony, 
+And say “Ah, ha! you're caught.’ 
+
+Char. “Twas merry when 
+You wager'd on your angling; when your diver 
+Did hang a salt-fish on his hook, which he 
+With fervency drew up. 
+
+Cleo. . That time,—O times!— 
+I laugh’d him out of patience; and that nighi 
+I laugh’d him into patience: and next morn, 
+Ere the ninth hour, I drunk him to his bed; 
+Then put my tires and mantles on him, whilst 
+I wore his sword Philippan. 
+
+
+Come, you'll play with 
+
+
+show'd, 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+O, from Italy! 
+
+Ram thcu thy fruitful tidings in mine ears, 
+That long time have been barren, 
+
+Mess. Madam, madam,— 
+
+Cleo. Antonius dead!—If thou say so, 
+
+villa n, 
+
+Thou kill’st thy mistress: but well and free, 
+If thou so yield him, there is gold, and here 
+My bluest veins to kiss; a hand that kings 
+Have lipp'd, and trembled kissing. 30 
+
+Mess. First, madam, he is well. 
+
+Cleo. Why, there's more gold. 
+But, sirrah, mark, we use 
+To say the dead are well: bring it to that, 
+The gold I give thee will I melt and pour 
+Down thy ill-uttering throat. 
+
+Mess, Good madam, hear me. 
+
+
+Cleo. Well. go to, I will; 
+
+
+. 
+| 
+
+
+——— 
+
+
+rE Ree st 
+ee) 
+
+
+But there's no goodness in thy face: if 
+Antony 
+
+Be free and healthful,—so tart a favour 
+
+To trumpet such good tidings! If not well, 
+
+Thou shouldst come like a Fury crown’d 
+with snakes, 40 
+
+
+Not like a formal man. 
+
+
+Mess. Will 't please you hear me? 
+Cleo. I have a mind to strike thee ere thou 
+speak’st: 
+
+
+Yet, if thou say Antony lives, is well, 
+
+Or friends with Cesar, or not captive to him, 
+I'll set thee in a shower of gold, and hail 
+Rich pearls upon thee. 
+
+
+Mess. Madam, he’s well. 
+Cleo. Well said. 
+Mess. And friends with Cesar. 
+
+Cleo. Thou ’rt an honest man, 
+
+
+Mess. Cesar and he are greater friends than 
+_ ever. 
+Cleo. Make thee a fortune from me. 
+
+But yet, madam,— 
+is ) I do'not like ‘Bat yet,’ it does allay 
+The good precedence; fie upon ‘But yet! 51 
+“But yet’ is as a gaoler to bring forth 
+Some monstrous malefactor. Prithee, friend, 
+Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear, 
+
+
+The good and bad together: he's friends with 
+
+
+Cesar; 
+In state of health thou say’st; and thou say’st 
+free. 
+Mess. Free, madam! no; I made no such 
+report: 
+He’s bound unto Octavia. 
+Cleo. For what good turn? 
+Mess, For the best turn 1’ the bed. 
+
+
+Cleo. I am pale, Charmian. 
+Mess. Madam, he's marred to Octavia. 
+Cleo. The most infectious pestilence upon 
+thee! [Strikes him down. 
+Mess. Good madam, patience. 
+Cleo. What say you? Hence, 
+[Strikes him again. 
+Horrible villain! or I'll spurn thine eyes 
+Like balls before me; I ‘Il unhair thy head: 
+[She hales him up and down. 
+Thou shalt be whipp’d with wire, and stew'd 
+in brine, 
+Smarting in lingering pickle. 
+Mess. Gracious madam, 
+I that do bring the news made not the match. 
+Cleo. Say ‘tis not so, a province I will give 
+thee, 
+And make thy fortunes proud: the blow thou 
+hadst 
+Shall make thy peace for moving me to rage; 
+And | will boot thee with what gift beside 71 
+Thy modesty can beg. 
+
+
+Mess. He's married, madam. 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+‘A cistern for scaled snakes! 
+
+
+14; 
+
+
+Cleo. Rogue, thou hast lived too long. 
+[Draws a knife 
+Mess. Nay, then I'l] rur, 
+What mean you, madam? I have made no 
+fault. [Exiz. 
+Char. Good madam, keep yourself with 
+yourself: 
+
+
+The man is innocent. 
+Cleo. Some innocents ‘scape not the thun- 
+derbolt. 
+Melt Egypt into Nile! and kindly creatures 
+Turn all to serpents! Call the slave again: 7¢ 
+Though I am mad, I will not bite him: cali. 
+Char. He is afeard to come. 
+Cleo. T will not hurt hum. 
+[Exit Charmian. 
+These hands do lack nobility, that they strike 
+A meaner than myself; since | myself 
+Have given myself the cause. 
+
+
+Re-enter CHARMIAN and Messenger. 
+
+
+Come hither. su. 
+
+‘rhough it be honest, it is never good 
+
+To bring bad news: give to a gracious messagu 
+
+An host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell 
+
+Themselves when they be felt. 
+
+Mess. I have done my duty. 
+
+Cleo. Is he married? 
+
+I cannot hate thee worser than I do, 90 
+
+If thou again say “Yes.” 
+
+Mess. He's married, madam. 
+
+Cleo. The gods confound thee! dost thou 
+
+hold there still? 
+
+Mess. Should I lie, madam? 
+
+Cleo. O, I would thou didss 
+So half my Egypt were submerged and made 
+Go, get thee 
+
+hence: 
+
+Hadst thou Narcissus in thy face, to me 
+
+Thou wouldst appear most ugly. He is married? 
+Mess. | crave your highness’ pardon. 
+Cleo. He is married > 
+Mess. Take no offence that I would not 
+
+offend you: 
+
+To punish me for what you make me do 100 
+
+Seems much unequal: he’s married to Octavia. 
+Cleo. O, that his fault should make a 
+
+knave of thee, 
+
+That art not what thou ‘rt sure of! 
+
+hence: 
+
+The merchandise which thou hast brought 
+
+from Rome 
+
+Are all too dear for me: 
+
+hand, - 
+
+And be undone by ‘em! 
+Char. Good your highness, patience. 
+Cleo. In praising Antony, I have dispraised 
+
+Cesar. 
+Char. Many times, madam. 
+
+
+Get thee 
+
+
+lie they upon thy 
+
+
+[Exit Messenger. 
+
+
+1 (46 
+
+
+Cleo. 
+Lead me from hence; 
+{ faint: O Iras, Charmian! ‘tis no matter. 110 
+Go to’ the fellow, good Alexas; bid him 
+Report the feature of Octavia, her years, 
+Her inclination, let him not leave out 
+The colour of her hair: bring me word quickly. 
+[Exit Alexas. 
+Let him for ever go:—let him not—Char- 
+mian, 
+Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon, 
+The other way’s a Mars. Bid you Alexas 
+[To Mardian. 
+Brog me word how tall she is. Pity me, 
+Charmian, 
+But do not speak to me. 
+chamber. 
+
+
+I am paid Ae t now. 
+
+
+Lead me to my 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene VI. 
+
+
+Flourish. Enter Pompey and MENas at one 
+side, with drum and trumpet: at another, 
+Ca:sar, ANTONY, LEpius, ENOBARBUS, 
+Mecanas, with Soldiers marching. 
+
+
+Near Misenum. 
+
+
+Pom. Your hostages I have, so have you 
+
+
+mine; 
+Aad we shall talk before we fight. 
+Ces. Most meet 
+What frst we come to words; and therefore 
+have we 
+
+
+Our written purposes before us sent; 
+Which, if thou hast consider’d, let us know 
+If ‘twill tie up thy discontented sword, 
+And carry back to Sicily much tall youth 
+That else must perish here. 
+
+Pom. To you all three, 
+The senators alone of this great world, 
+Chief factors for the gods, I do not know 10 
+Wherefore my father should revengers want, 
+Having a son and friends; since Julius Cesar, 
+
+
+Who at Philippi the good Brutus ghosted, 
+
+
+There saw you labouring for him. What 
+was 't 
+
+That moved pale Cassius | to conspire; and 
+what 
+
+
+Made the all-honour’d, honest Roman, Brutus, 
+
+With the arm’d rest, courtiers of beauteous 
+freedom, 
+
+To drench the Cap‘tol; but that they would 
+
+Have one man but a man? And that is it 19 
+
+Hath made me rig my navy; at whose burthen 
+
+The anger’d ocean foams; with which I 
+
+
+meant 
+To scourge the ingratitude that despiteful 
+Rome 
+Cast on’ my noble father. 
+Ces, Take your time. 
+Ant. Thou canst not fear us, Pompey, with 
+
+
+thy sails; 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+ae ee re 
+
+
+Lg ee JE 
+
+
+[Acr II, Se. V1 
+
+
+We ‘l speak with thee at sea: at land, bee 
+
+
+know’st 
+How much we do o’er-count thee. t 
+Pom. At land, indeed, 
+
+
+Thou dost o’er-count me of my father’s house: 
+But, since the cuckoo builds not for himself, 
+Remain in ’t as thou mayst. 
+
+Lep. Be pleased to tell us— 
+For this is from the present—how you take 
+The offers we have sent you. 
+
+Ces. There's the point. 
+
+Ant, Which do not be entreated to, but 
+
+weigh 
+What it is worth embraced. 
+
+Ces, And what may follow, 
+To try a larger fortune. 
+
+Pom You have made me offer 
+Of Sie) Sardinia; and I must 
+Rid all the sea of pirates; then, to send 
+Measures of wheat to Rome; this ‘greed upon: 
+
+
+'To part with unhack'd edges, and bear back 
+
+
+Our targes undinted. 
+
+Ces. Ant. Lep. That's our offer. 
+
+Pom. Know, then, 40 
+I came before you here a man prepared 
+To take this offer: but Mark Antony 
+Put me to some impatience; though I lose 
+The praise of it by telling, you must know, 
+
+
+| When Cesar and your brother were at blows, 
+
+
+Your mother came to Sicily and did find 
+Her welcome friendly. 
+
+Ant. I have heard it, Pompey; 
+And am well studied for a liberal thanks 
+Which I do qwe you. 
+
+
+Pom. Let me have your hand: 
+I did not think, sir, to have met you here. 50 
+Ant, The beds i’ the east are soft; and 
+
+
+thanks to you, 
+
+That call’d me timelier than my purpose 
+hither; 
+
+For I have gain’d by ’t. 
+
+Ces. Since I saw you last, 
+There is a change upon you. 
+
+Pom. Well, I know not 
+What counts harsh fortune cast upon my face; 
+But in my bosom shall she never come, 
+
+To make my heart her vassal. 
+
+
+Lep. Well met here. 
+Pom. I hope so, Lepidus. Thus we are 
+agreed: 
+
+
+I crave our composition may be written, 
+And seal'd between us. 
+Ces. That's the next to do. 60 
+Pom. We'll feast each other ere we part; 
+and let’s 
+Draw lots who shall begin. 
+Ant. That will I, Pompey. 
+Pom. No, Antony, take the lot: but, first 
+Or last, your fine Egyptian cookery 
+
+
+; 
+9 
+- 
+f 
+4 
+
+
+ee ee 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+cr II, Sc. VII] 
+
+
+A 
+
+
+_ Shall have the fame. I have heard that Julius 
+ar 
+Grew fat with feasting there. 
+
+
+Ant. You have heard much. 
+_ Pom. I have fair meanings, sir. 
+Ant. And fair words to them. 
+
+
+Pom. Then so much have | heard: 
+And I have heard, Apollodorus carried— 
+Eno. No more of that: he did so. 
+Pom, Whai, I pray you? 70 
+_ Eno. A certain queen to Cesar in a mat- 
+tress, 
+Pom. | know thee now: how farest thou, 
+soldier? 
+Eno. Well; 
+_And well am like to do; for, I perceive, 
+' Four feasts are toward. 
+Pom. Let me shake thy hand; 
+I neyer hated thee: I have seen thee fight, 
+\ When I have envied thy behaviour. 
+' 3Eno. Sir, 
+I never loved you much; but I ha’ praised 
+M ye, 
+When you have well deserved ten times as 
+: much 
+As I have said you did. 
+Pom. Enjoy thy plainness, 
+It nothing ill becomes thee. 
+_ Aboard my galley I invite you all: 
+Will you lead, lords> 
+Ces. Ant. Lep. Show us the way, sir. 
+= Pom. Come. 
+: [Exeunt all but Menas and Enobarbus. 
+Men. [Aside] Thy father, Pompey, would 
+ne'er have made this treaty—You and | have 
+_ known, sir. 
+_ Eno. At sea, I think. 
+_ Men. We have, sir. 
+Eno. You have done well by water. 
+Men. And you by land. 90 
+Eno. I will praise any man that will praise 
+_me; though it cannot be denied what I have 
+Pine by land. 
+_ Men. Nor what I have done by water. 
+_ Eno. Yes, something you can deny for 
+_your own safety: you have been a great thief 
+_ by sea. 
+Men. And you by land. 
+_ Eno. There I deny my land service. But 
+give me your hand, Menas: if our eyes-had 
+authority, here they might take two thieves 
+kissing. 101 
+- Men. All men’s faces are what- 
+t some’er their hands are. 
+; Eno. But there is never a fair woman has 
+: 
+; 
+
+
+80 
+
+
+true, 
+
+
+a true face. 
+Men. No slander; they steal hearts. 
+Eno. We came hither to fight with you. 
+Men. For my part, | ara sorry it is turned 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+1147 
+
+
+Ls 
+
+
+to a drinking. Pompey doth this day laugh 
+away his fortune. 110 
+
+Eno. If he do, sure, he cannot weep ‘t back 
+again, 
+
+Men. You've said, sir. We looked not for 
+Mark Antony here: pray you, is he married to 
+Cleopatra ? 
+
+Eno. Cesar's s'ster is called Octavia. 
+
+Men. True, sir; she was the wife of Caius 
+Marcellus. 
+
+Eno. But she is now the wife of Marcus 
+Antonius. 
+
+
+Men. Pray ye, sir? 120 
+
+Eno. ‘Tis true. . 
+
+Men. Then is Cesar and he for ever knit 
+together. 
+
+
+Eno. If I were bound to divine of this 
+unity, I would not prophesy so. 
+
+Men. | think the policy of that purpose 
+made more in the marriage than the love of 
+the parties. 
+
+Eno. | think so too, But you shall find 
+the band that seems to tie their friendship 
+together will be the very strangler of their 
+amity: Octavia is of a holy, cold, and still 
+conversation. 131 
+
+Men. Who would not have his wife so? 
+
+Eno. Not he that himself is not so; which 
+is Mark Antony. He will to his Egyptian 
+dish again: then shall the sighs of Octavia 
+blow the fire up in Cesar; and, as I said be- 
+fore, that which is the strength of their amity 
+shall prove the immediate author of their 
+variance. Antony will use his affection where 
+it is: he married but his occasion here. 140 
+
+Men. And thus it may be. Come, sir, will 
+you aboard? [| have a health for you. 
+
+Eno. | shall take it, sir: we have used ow 
+throats in Egypt. 
+
+
+en. Come, let’s away. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene VII. On board Pompey’s galley, off 
+
+
+Misenum. 
+
+
+Enter two or three Servants 
+with a banguet. 
+
+
+Music plays. 
+
+
+First Serv. Here they ‘ll be, man. Some o’ 
+their plants are ill-rooted already; the least 
+wind i’ the world will blow them down. 
+
+Sec. Serv. Lepidus is high-coloured. 
+
+First Serv. They have made him drink 
+alms-drink. 
+
+Sec. Serv. As they pinch one another by 
+the disposition, he cries out ‘No more;" recon- 
+ciles them to his entreaty, and himself to the 
+drink. 
+
+First Serv. But it raises the greater war 
+between him and his discretion. 1] 
+
+
+1148 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+[Act II, Sc. VII 
+
+
+Sec. Serv. Why, this it is to have a name 
+in great men’s fellowsh p: I had as lief have 
+a reed that will do me no service as a partisan 
+I could not heave. 
+
+First Serv. To be called into a huge sphere, 
+and not to be seen to move in't, are the holes 
+where eyes should be, which pitifully disaster 
+the cheeks, 
+
+
+A sennet sounded. Enter Cfsar, ANTONY, 
+Lepius, Pompey, AcrippA, MeEcENAs, 
+Enoparsus, Menas, with other captains. 
+
+
+Ant. [To Cesar] Thus do they, sir, they 
+take the flow o’ the Nile 20 
+
+By certain scales i’ the pyramid; they know, 
+
+By the height, the lowness, or the mean, if 
+dearth 
+
+Or foison follow: the higher Nilus swells, 
+
+The more it promises: as it ebbs, the seeds- 
+man 
+
+Upon the slime and ooze scatters his grain, 
+
+And shortly comes to harvest. 
+
+Lep. You've strange serpents there. 
+
+Ant. Ay, Lepidus. 
+
+Lep. Your serpent of Egypt is bred now 
+of your mud by the operation of your sun: 
+so 1s your crocodile. 
+
+Ant. They are so. 
+
+Pom. Sit,—and some wine! 
+Lepidus! 
+
+Lep. I am not so well as I should be, but 
+I'll ne’er out. 
+
+Eno. Not till you have slept; I fear me 
+you ‘Il be in till then. 
+
+Lep. Nay, certainly, I have heard the 
+Ptolemies’ pyramises are very goodly things; 
+without contradiction, | have heard that. 41 
+
+Men. [Aside to Pom.] Pompey, a word. 
+
+Pom. [Aside to Men.] Say in 
+
+mine ear: what is t? 
+Men. [Aside to Pom.] Forsake thy seat, 
+I do beseech thee, captain, 
+And hear me speak a word. 
+Pom. [Aside to Men.] Forbear me tll 
+anon. 
+This wine for Lepidus! 
+
+Lep. What manner o’ thing is your croco- 
+dile? 
+
+Ant. It is shaped, sir, like itself; and it is 
+as broad as it hath breadth: it is just so high 
+as it is, and moves with it own organs: it 
+lives by that which nourisheth it; and the ele- 
+ments once out of it, it transmigrates. 51 
+
+Lep. What colour is it of ? 
+
+Ant. Of it own colour too. 
+
+Lep. “Tis a strange serpent. 
+
+Ant. “Tis so. And the tears of it are wet. 
+
+Ces. Will this description satisfy him? 
+
+
+A health to 
+
+
+Ant. With the health that Pompey gives 
+him, else he is a very epicure. 
+
+Pom. [Aside to Men.| Go hang, sir, hang! 
+
+Tell me of that? away! 
+Do - I bid you. Where's this cup I call’d 
+or? 
+
+Men. [Aside to Pom.] If for the sake of 
+
+merit thou wilt hear me, 6l 
+Rise from thy stool. 
+
+Pom. [Aide to Men.] 1 thnk thou rt mad. 
+
+The matter ? [Rises, and walks aside. 
+
+Men. I have ever held my cap off to thy 
+
+fortunes. 
+
+Pom. Thou hast served me with much faith. 
+
+What's else to say? 
+Be jolly, lords. 
+
+Ant. These quick-sands, Lepidus, 
+Keep off them, for you sink. 
+
+Men. Wilt thou be lord of all the world? 
+
+Pom. What say’st thou? 
+
+Men. Wilt thou be lord of the whole 
+
+world? That's twice. 
+
+Pom. How should that be? 
+
+Men. But entertain it, 
+And, though thou think me poor, I am the man 
+Will give thee all the world. 
+
+Pom. Hast thou drunk well? 71 
+
+Men. No, Pompey, I have kept me from 
+
+the cup. 
+Thou art, if thou darest be, the earthly Jove: 
+Whate'er the ocean pales, or sky inclips, 
+Is thine, if thou wilt hat. 
+Pom. Show me which way. 
+Men. These three world-sharers, these com- 
+petitors, ~ 
+Are in thy vessel: let me cut the cable; 
+And, when we are put off, fall to their throats: 
+All there is thine. 
+
+Pom. Ah, this thou shouldst have done, 
+And not have spoke on't! In me ‘tis villany; 
+In thee 't had been good service. Thou must 
+
+know, 8] 
+"Tis not my profit that does lead mine honour; | 
+Mine honour, it. Repent that e’er thy tongue 
+Hath so betray’d thine act: being done un- 
+
+known, 
+I should have found it afterwards well done; 
+But must condemn it now. Desist, and drink. 
+
+Men. [Aside] For this, 
+
+I'll never follow thy pall’d fortunes more. 
+
+Who seeks, and will not take when once ‘tis 
+offer'd, 
+
+Shall never find it more. 
+
+Pom. This health to Lepidus! 90 — 
+
+Ant. Bear him ashore. I'll pledge it for 
+
+him, Pompey. 
+
+Eno. Here’s to thee, Menas! | 
+
+Men. Enobarbus, welcome! — 
+
+
+Pom. Fill till the cup be hid. 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+Act Ill, Sc. I] 
+
+
+Eno. There's a strong fellow, Menas. 
+[Pointing to the Attendant, who carries 
+off Lepidus. 
+Men. Why? 
+Eno. A’ bears the third part of the world, 
+man; see’st not> 
+Men. The third part, then, is drunk: would 
+it were all, 
+That it might go on wheels! 
+Eno. Drink thou; increase the reels. 
+Men. Come. 
+Pom. This is not yet an Alexandrian feast. 
+Ant. It ripens towards it. Str.ke the ves- 
+
+
+100 
+
+
+sels, ho! 
+Here is to Caesar! 
+Ces. I could well forbear 't. 
+
+
+It’s monstrous labour, when I wash my brain, 
+And it grows fouler. 
+Ant. Be a child o’ the time. 
+Ces. Possess it, I Il make answer: 
+~ But I had rather fast from a!l four days 
+Than drink so much in one. 
+Eno. Ha, my brave emperor! [To Antony. 
+Shall we dance now the Egyptian Bacchanals, 
+And celebrate our drink? 
+Pom. Let's ha’t, good soldier. 111 
+Ant. Come, let’s all take hands, 
+Till that the conquering wine hath steep’d our 
+sense 
+In soft and delicate Lethe. 
+Eno. All take hands. 
+_ Make battery to our ears with the loud music: 
+The while I'll place you: then the boy shall 
+sing; 
+The holding every man shall bear as loud 
+As his strong sides can volley. 
+[Music plays, Enobarbus places them 
+hand in hand. 
+
+
+THE Sone. 
+
+
+Come, thou monarch of the vine, 
+Plumpy Bacchus with pink eyne! 
+In thy fats our cares be drown’d, 
+With thy grapes our hairs be crown’d: 
+Cup us, till the world go round, 
+Cup us, till the woild go round! 
+
+
+120 
+
+
+Ces. What would you more? Pompey, 
+good night. Good brother, 
+
+Let me request you off: our graver business 
+
+Frowns at this levity. Gentle lords, let’s part; 
+
+- You see we have burnt our cheeks: strong 
+
+
+Enobarb 
+
+
+-Is weaker than the wine; and mine own 
+tongue 
+
+_ Splits when it speaks: the wild disguise hath 
+almost 131 
+
+
+Antick’d us all. What needs more words? 
+Good night. 
+
+
+Good Antony, your hand. 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+*. 
+
+
+1149 
+
+
+Pom. I'll try you on the shore. 
+Ant. And shall, sir: give ’s your hand, 
+Pom. O Antony, 
+You have my father’s house,—But, what? we 
+are friends. 
+Come, down into the boat. 
+Eno. Take heed you fall not. 
+[Exeunt all but Enobarbus and Menas. 
+Menas, I ‘Il not on shore. 
+
+Men. No, to my cabin. 
+These drums! these trumpets, flutes! what! 
+Let Neptune hear we bid a loud farewell 
+To these great fellows: sound and be hang’d, 
+
+sound out! [Sound a flourish, with drums. 
+
+Eno. Ho! says a’. There's my cap. 141 
+
+Hen. Ho! Noble captain, come. [{Exeunt, 
+
+
+ACT III. 
+
+
+Scene I. A plain in Syria. 
+
+Enter VENTIDIUS as it were in triumph, with 
+Sirius, and other Romans, Officers, and 
+Soldiers; the dead body of Pacorus borne 
+before him. 
+
+Ven. Now, darting Parthia, 
+struck; and now 
+
+Pleased fortune does of Marcus Crassus’ death 
+
+Make me revenger. Bear the king’s son’s body 
+
+Before our army. Thy Pacorus, Orodes, 
+
+Pays this for Marcus Crassus. 
+
+Sil. Noble Ventidius, 
+
+Whilst yet with Parthian blood thy sword is 
+
+warm, 
+
+The fugitive Parthians follow; spur through 
+
+Media, 
+
+Mesopotamia, and the shelters whither 
+
+The routed fly: so thy grand captain Antony 
+
+Shall set thee on triumphant chariots and 10 
+
+Put garlands on thy head. 
+
+Ven. O Silius, Silius, 
+I have done enough; a lower place, note well, 
+May make too great an act: for learn this, 
+Sihius; 
+
+Better to leave undone, than by our deed 
+
+Acquire too high a fame when him we 
+
+serve 's away. 
+
+Cesar and Antony have ever won 
+
+More in their officer than person: Sossius, 
+
+One of my place in Syria, his l‘eutenant, 
+
+For quick accumulation of renown, 
+
+
+Which he achieved by the minute, lost his 
+
+
+art thou 
+
+
+favour. 20 
+Who does i’ the wars more than his captain 
+can 
+
+
+Becomes his captain’s captain: and ambition, 
+
+The soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of 
+loss, 
+
+Than gain which darkens him. 
+
+I could do more to do Antonius good, 
+
+
+But ‘twould offend him; and in his offence 
+Should my performance perish. 
+
+Sil. Thou hast, Ventidius, that 
+Without the which a soldier, and his sword, 
+Grants scarce distinct.on. Thou wilt write to 
+
+Antony ? 
+
+Ven. I'll humbly signify what in his name, 
+That magical word of war, we have effected; 
+How, with his banners and his well-paid 
+
+ranks, 
+The ne’er-yet-beaten horse of Parthia 
+We have jaded out o’ the field. 
+Sil. Where is he now? 
+Ven. He purposeth to Athens: whither, 
+with what haste 
+The weight we must convey with 's will permit, 
+We shall appear before him. On, there; pass 
+along! [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Rome. An ante-chamber in 
+Cesar's house. 
+
+
+Scene II. 
+
+
+Enter AGRIPPA ai one door, ENOBARBUS 
+at another. 
+
+
+Agr. What, are the brothers parted? 
+Eno. They have dispatch’d with Pompey, 
+he is gone; 
+The other three are sealing. 
+To part from Rome; Cesar is sad; 
+
+
+Octavia weeps 
+
+
+and 
+
+
+Lepidus, 
+Since Pompey's feast, as Menas says, is 
+troubled 
+With the green sickness. 
+Agr. ‘Tis a noble Lepidus. 
+Eno. A very fine one: O, how he loves 
+Cesar! 
+Agr. Nay, but how dearly he adores Mark 
+Antony! 
+Eno. Cesar? Why, he’s the Jupiter of 
+men. 
+Agr. What's Antony? The god of Jupiter. 
+Eno. Spake you of Caesar? How! the 
+nonpareil! 11 
+Agr. O Antony! O thou Arabian bird! 
+Eno... Would you praise Cesar, say 
+“Cesar:’ go no further. 
+Agr. Indeed, he plied them both with ex- 
+
+
+cellent praises. 
+Eno. But he loves Caesar best; yet he loves 
+
+Antony: 
+
+Ho! hearts, tongues, figures, scribes, bards, 
+poets, cannot 
+
+Think, speak, cast, write, sing, number, ho! 
+
+His love for Antony. But as for Cesar, 
+
+Kneel down, kneel down, and wonder. 
+
+
+Agr. Both he loves. 
+Eno. They are his shards, and he their 
+beetle. [Trumpets within.] So; 20 
+
+
+This is to horse. Adieu, noble Agrippa. 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+ean Good ite alt ee aa 
+
+
+farewell. 
+
+
+Enter Crsar, ANToNy, LEpipUs, and 
+OctTAVIA. 
+
+
+Ant. No further, sir. 
+Ces. You take from me a great part of 
+myself ; 
+Use me well in’t. Sister, prove such a wife. 
+As my thoughts make thee, and as my far- 
+
+
+thest band 
+Shall pass on thy approof. Most noble An- 
+tony, 
+
+
+Let not the piece of virtue, which is set 
+Betwixt us as the cement of our love, 
+
+To keep it builded, be the ram to batter 30 
+The fortress of it; for better might we -y 
+Have loved without this mean, if on both 
+
+
+parts 
+This i not cherish’d. 
+Ant. Make me not offended 
+In your distrust. 
+Ces. I have said. 
+Ant. You shall not find, 
+
+
+Though you be therein curious, the least cause 
+For what you seem to fear: so, the gods keep 
+you, 
+And make the hearts of Romans serve your 
+ends! 
+We will here part. 
+Ces. ure oe my dearest sister, fare thee 
+well: 
+The elements be kind to thee, and make 40 
+Thy spirits all of comfort! fare thee well. 
+Oct. My “noble brother! 
+Ant. The April’s in her eyes: it is love’s 
+spring, 
+
+
+And these the showers to bring it on. Be 
+cheerful. 
+Oct. Sir, look well to my husband’s house; 
+
+
+and— 
+Ces. What, 
+Octavia ? ” 
+Oct. I'll tell you in your ear. 
+Ant. Her tongue will not obey her heart, 
+nor can 
+Her heart inform her tongue,—the swan’s 
+down-feather, 
+That stands upon the swell at full of tide, 
+And neither way inclines. 
+
+
+5 4 
+[Aside to Agr.] Will Ceasar weep? 
+
+
+Eno. 
+
+Agr. [Aside to Eno.] He has a cloud 
+in's face. 
+
+Eno. [Aside to Agr.] He were the worse 
+
+
+for that, were he a horse; 
+So is he, being a man. 
+
+Agr. [Aside to Eno.] Why, Enobarbus, — 
+
+When Antony found Julius Cesar dead, 
+
+
+He cried almost to roaring; and he wept 
+
+
+Acr Ill, Sc. IV] 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+ti5t 
+
+
+When at Philippi he found Brutus slain. 
+Eno. [Aside to Agr.} That year, indeed, 
+he was troubled with a rheum; 
+What willingly he did confound he wail'd, 
+Believe 't, till I wept too. 
+Ces No, sweet Octavia, 
+You shall hear from me still; the time shall 
+not 60 
+Out-go my thinking on you. 
+Ant. Come, sir, come; 
+I'l wrestle with you in my strength of love: 
+Look, here I have you; thus I let you go, 
+And give you to the gods. 
+Ces. Adieu; be happy! 
+Lep. Let all the number of the stars give 
+light 
+To thy fair way! 
+
+
+Ces. Farewell, farewell! [Kisses Octavia. 
+Ant. Farewell! 
+¥ [Trumpets sound. Exeunt. 
+~= Scene III. Alexandria. Cleopatra's 
+
+
+palace. 
+
+
+Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IrRas, 
+and ALEXxas. 
+
+
+Cleo. Where is the fellow? 
+Alex. Half afeard to come. 
+Cleo. Go to, go to. 
+
+
+Enter the Messenger as before. 
+
+
+Come hither, sir. 
+
+Alex. Good majesty, 
+Herod of Jewry dare not look upon you 
+But when you are well pleased. 
+
+Cleo, That Herod’s head 
+I'll have: but how, when Antony is gone 
+
+_ Through whem I might command it? Come 
+thou near. 
+
+Mess. Most gracious majesty,— 
+
+Cleo. Didst thou behold Octavia? 
+
+Mess. Ay, dread queen. 
+
+Cleo. Where? 
+
+Mess. Madam, in Rome; 
+
+I look’d her in the face, and saw her led 
+' Between her brother and Mark Antony. 
+
+Cleo. Is she as tall as me? 
+
+Mess. She is not, madam. 
+. Cleo. Didst hear her speak? is she shrill- 
+
+tongued or low? 
+
+Mess. Madam, | heard her speak; she is 
+
+low-voiced. 
+
+Cleo, That’s not so good: he cannot like 
+
+her long. 
+
+Char. Like her! O Isis! ‘tis impossible. 
+
+Cleo. I think so, Charmian: dull of tongue, 
+
+and dwarfish! 
+What majesty ‘s in her gait? Remember, 20 
+If e’er thou look’dst on majesty. 
+ess. She creeps: 
+
+
+: 
+; 
+4 
+
+
+Her motion and her station are as one; 
+She shows a body rather than a life, 
+A statue than a breather. 
+Cleo. Is this certain? 
+Mess. Or I have no observance. 
+
+
+Char. Three in Egypt 
+Cannot make better note. 
+Cleo. He’s very knowing; 
+
+
+I do perceive 't: there 's nothing in her yet: 
+The fellow has good judgement. 
+
+
+Char. Excellent. 
+
+Cleo. Guess at her years, I prithee. 
+
+Mess. Madam, 
+She was a widow,— 
+
+Cleo. Widow! Charmian, hark. 30 
+
+Mess. And I do think she’s thirty. 
+
+
+Cleo. Bear’st thou her face in mind? is’t 
+
+long or round? 
+
+Mess. Round even to faultiness. 
+
+Cleo. For the most part, too, they are fool- 
+
+ish that are so. 
+Her hair, what colour? 
+
+Mess. Brown, madam: and her forehead 
+As low as she would wish it. 
+
+Cleo. There's gold for thee. 
+Thou must not take my former sharpness ill: 
+I will employ thee back again; I find thee 
+Most fit for business: go make thee ready; 40 
+Our letters are prepared. [Exit Messenger. 
+
+
+Char. A proper man. 
+Cleo. Indeed, he is so: I repent me much 
+That so I harried him. Why, methinks, by 
+him, 
+This creature ’s no such thing. 
+Char. Nothing, madam. 
+Cleo. The man hath seen some majesty, 
+
+
+and should know. 
+Char. Hath he seen majesty? 
+defend, 
+And serving you so long! 
+Cleo. 1 have one thing more to ask him 
+yet, good Charmian: 
+But ‘tis no matter; thou shalt bring him to me 
+Where | will write. All may be well enough. 
+Char. I warrant you, madam. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Athens. A room in Antony's 
+house. 
+
+
+Isis else 
+
+
+Enter ANTONY and Octavia. 
+
+
+Ant. Nay, nay, Octavia, not only that,~ 
+
+That were excusable, that, and thousands 
+more 
+
+Of semblable import,—but he hath waged 
+
+New wars ‘gainst Pompey; made his will, 
+and read it 
+
+To publc ear: 
+
+Spoke scantly of me: when perforce he could 
+not 
+
+
+1152 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+[Acr Ill, Sc. V1 
+
+
+But pay me terms of honour, co!d and sickly 
+He vented them; most narrow measure lent 
+
+
+me: 
+When the best hint was given him, he not 
+took 't, 
+Or did it from his teeth. 
+Oct. O my good lord, 10 
+
+
+Believe not all; or, if you must believe, 
+
+Stomach not all. A more unhappy lady, 
+
+If this division chance, ne'er stood between, 
+
+Praying for both parts: 
+
+The good gods will mock me presently, 
+
+When I shall pray, “O, bless my lord and 
+husband!’ 
+
+Undo that prayer, by crying out as loud, 
+
+“O, bless my brother!’ Husband win, win 
+brother, 
+
+Prays, and destroys the prayer; no midway 
+
+"Twixt these extremes at all. 
+
+Ant. Gentle Octavia, 20 
+
+Let your best love draw to that point, which 
+seeks 
+
+Best to preserve it: if I lose mine honour, 
+
+I lose myself: better I were not yours 
+
+Thar yours so branchless. But, as you re- 
+quested, 
+
+Yourself shall go between 's: the mean time, 
+lady, 
+
+I'll raise the preparation of a war 
+
+Shall stain your brother: make your soonest 
+
+
+haste; 
+So your desires are yours. ; 
+Oct. Thanks to my lord. 
+
+
+‘The Jove of power make me most weak, most 
+
+
+weak, 
+Your reconciler! Wars ‘twixt you twain 
+would be 30 
+As if the world should cleave, and that slain 
+
+
+men 
+Should solder up the rift. 
+Ant. When it appears to you where this 
+
+begins, 
+
+Turn your displeasure that way; for our faults 
+
+‘Can never be so equal, that your love 
+
+Can equally move with them. Provide your 
+going; 
+
+‘Choose your own company, and command 
+what cost 
+
+Your heart has mind to. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene V. The same. Another room. 
+
+
+Enter ENoparsus and Eros, meeting: 
+
+
+Eno. How now, friend Eros! 
+
+Eros. There’s strange news come, sir. 
+
+Enc. What, man? 
+
+Eros. Cesar and Lepidus have made wars 
+supon Pompey. 
+
+Eno. This is old: what is the success? 
+
+
+Eros. Cesar, having made use of hm in 
+the wars ‘gainst Pompey, presently denied him 
+rivality; would not let him partake in the 
+glory of the action: and not resting here, 
+accuses him of letters he had formerly wrote 
+to Pompey; upon his own appeal, seizes him: 
+so the poor third is up, till death enlarge his 
+confine. 
+
+Eno. Then, world, thou hast a pair of 
+
+chaps, no more; 
+And throw between them all the food thou 
+
+
+hast, 
+They ‘Il grind the one the other. Where's 
+Antony ? 
+Eros. He's walking in the garden—thus; 
+and spurns 
+The rush that lies before him; cries, ‘Foo 
+Lepidus!" 
+
+
+And threats the throat of that his officer 
+That murder'd Pompey. 
+Eno. Our great navy 's rigg’d. 
+Eros. For Italy and Czsar. More, Domitius; 
+My lord desires you presently: my news 
+I might have told hereafter. 
+Eno. ‘Twill be naught: 
+But let it be. Bring me to Antony. 
+Eros. Come, sir. 
+
+
+19 
+
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene VI. 
+Enter Csar, Acrippa, and MEcANAS. 
+
+
+Rome. Caesar's house. 
+
+
+Ces. Contemning Rome, he has done all 
+this, and more, 
+In Alexandria: here's the manner of 't: 
+I’ the marketsplace, on a tribunal silver'd, 
+Cleopatra and himself in chairs of gold 
+Were publicly enthroned: at the feet sat 
+Cesarion, whom they call my father’s son, 
+And all the unlawful issue that their lust 
+can then hath made between them. Unto 
+er 
+He gave the stablishment of Egypt; made her 
+Of lower Syria, Cyprus, Lydia, 10 
+Absolute queen. 
+Mec. This in the public eye? 
+Ces. I’ the common show-place, where 
+they exercise. 
+His sons he there proclaim’d the kings of 
+kings: 
+Great Media, Parthia, and Armenia, 
+He gave to Alexander; to Ptolemy he as- 
+sign'd 
+Syria, Cilicia, and Pheenicia: she 
+In the habiliments of the goddess Isis 
+That day appear’d; and oft before gave au- 
+
+
+dience, 
+As ‘tis reported, so. 
+
+ec. Let Rome be thus 
+Inform'd. 
+
+
+Se 
+
+
+“Act Ill, Sc: VI] 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+™ 
+
+
+1153 
+
+
+Agr. Who, queasy with hs insolence 20 
+Already, will their good thoughts call from 
+
+
+him. 
+Ces. The people know it; and have now 
+received 
+His accusations. 
+Agr. Who does he accuse? 
+
+
+Ces. Cesar: and that, having in Sicily 
+Sextus Pompeius spoil’d, we had not rated him 
+His part 0’ the isle: then does he say, he lent 
+
+me 
+Some shipping unrestored: lastly, he frets 
+That Lepidus of the triumvirate 
+Should be deposed; and, being, that we detain 
+All his revenue. 
+Agr. Sir, this should be answer'd. 30 
+Ces. "Tis done already, and the messenger 
+gone. 
+I have told him, Lepidus was grown too cruel; 
+That he his high authority abused, 
+And did deserve his change: for what I have 
+conquer’d, 
+I grant him part; but then, ‘n his Armenia, 
+And other of his conquer’d kingdoms, | 
+Demand the like. 
+
+Mec. He'll never yield to that. 
+
+re Nor must not then be yielded to in 
+
+this, 
+
+
+Enter Octavia with her train. 
+
+
+Oct. Hail, Cesar, and my lord! hail, most 
+dear Cesar! 
+
+
+Ces. That ever I should call thee cast- 
+away! 
+
+Oci. You have not call’d me so, nor have 
+
+~ you cause. 4| 
+
+
+Ces. Why have you stol’n upon us thus? 
+You come not 
+Like Cesar’s sister: the wife of Antony 
+Should have an army for an usher, and 
+The neighs of horse to tell of her approach 
+Long ere she did appear; the trees by the way 
+Should have borne men; and expectation 
+~ fainted, 
+Longing for what it had not; nay, the dust 
+Should have ascended to the roof of heaven, 
+Raised by your populous troops: but you are 
+come 50 
+A market-maid to Rome: and have prevented 
+The ostentation of our ‘love, which, left un- 
+shown, 
+Is often left unloved: we should have met you 
+By sea and land; supplying every stage 
+With an augmented greeting. 
+Oct., Good my lord, 
+To come thus was I not constrain'd, but did it 
+On my free will. My lord, Mark Antony, 
+Hoaring that you prepared for war, ac- 
+quainted 
+
+
+My grieved ear withal; whereon, I begg’d 
+H.s pardon for return. 
+
+Ces. Which soon he granted, 60 
+Being an obstruct ‘tween his lust and him. 
+
+Oct. Do not say so, my lord. 
+
+Ces. I have eyes upon him, 
+And his affairs come to me on the wind, 
+Where is he now? 
+
+Oct. My lord, in Athens. 
+
+
+Ces. No, my most wronged sister; Cleo- 
+
+
+patra 
+
+Hath nodded him to her. He hath given his 
+empire 
+
+Up to a whore; who now are levying 
+
+The kings o’ the earth for war: he hath as- 
+sembled 
+
+Bocchus, the king of Libya; Archelaus, 
+
+Of Cappadocia; Philadelphos, king 70 
+
+Of Paphlagonia; the Thracian king, Adallas; 
+
+King Malchus of Arabia; King of Pont; 
+
+Herod of Jewry; Mithridates, king 
+
+Of Comagene; Polemon and Amyntas, 
+
+The kings of Mede and Lycaonia, 
+
+With a more Jarger list of sceptres. 
+
+Oct. Ay me, most wretched, 
+That have my heart parted betwixt two friends 
+That do afflict each other! 
+
+Ces. Welcome hither: 
+Your letters did withho'd our breaking forth; 
+Till we perceived, both how you were wrong 
+
+
+led, 
+
+
+And we in negligent danger. Cheer your 
+heart: 
+
+Be you not troubled with the time, which 
+drives 
+
+
+O’er your content these strong necessities; 
+
+But let determined things to destiny 
+
+Hold unbewail’d their way. Welcome to 
+Rome; 
+
+Nothing more dear to me. You are abused 
+
+Beyond the mark of thought: and the high 
+gods, 
+
+To do you justice, make them ministers 
+
+
+Of us and those that love you. Best of 
+comfort; 
+And ever welcome to us. 
+Agr. Welcome, lady. 90 
+Mec. Welcome, dear madam, 
+
+
+Each heart in Rome does love and pity 
+
+
+you: 
+
+Only the adulterous Antony, most large 
+In his abominations, turns you off ; 
+And gives h’s potent regiment to a trull, 
+That noises it against us. 
+
+
+Oct. Is it so, sir? 
+Ces. Most certain. Sister, welcome: pray 
+you, 
+
+
+Be ever known to patience: my dear’st sister! 
+
+
+{Exeunt 
+
+
+Scene VII. 
+
+
+Enter CLEOPATRA and ENoOBARBUS. . 
+
+
+Cleo. I will be even with thee, doubt it not. | Your marmers are 
+
+
+Eno. 
+
+
+these wars, 
+And say’st it is not fit. 
+Eno. Well, is it, is it? 
+
+
+But why, why, why? 
+
+
+should not we 
+a fer in person > 
+[Aside] Well, I could reply: 
+if we ath serve with horse and mares to- 
+
+
+The horse were merely lost; the mares would | 
+bear 
+
+
+A soldier and his horse. 
+
+
+Cleo. What is"t you say? 10 
+Eno. Your presence needs must 
+Antony; 
+Take from his heart, take from his bram, 
+from ’s time, 
+
+
+What should not then be spared. He is al- 
+
+
+ready 
+Traduced for levity; and ‘tis said in Rome 
+That Photinus an cmach and your maids 
+Manage this war. 
+
+
+Cleo. Simk Rome, and their tongues rot 
+That speak against us! A charge we bear i’ 
+the war, 
+
+
+And, as the president of my kingdom, will 
+
+there for a man. Speak not against it; 
+
+{ wali not stay behind. 
+
+Eno. Nay, I have done. 20 
+Here comes the emperor. 
+
+
+Enter ANTONY and CaNptus. 
+
+
+Ani. Is it not strange, Canidius, 
+That from Tarentum and Brundusium 
+He could so quickly cut the Ionian sea, 
+And iake m Toryne? You have heard on't, 
+
+sweet? 
+
+Cleo. Celerity is never more admired 
+Than by the negligent. 
+
+Ant A good rebuke, 
+Which might have well becomed the best of 
+
+
+men, 
+To taunt at slackness. Canidius, we 
+Will fight with him by sea. 
+
+
+Cleo. By sea! what else? 
+Can. Why will my lord do so? 
+Ant. For that he dares us to't 
+
+
+a. So hath my lord dared him to mee 
+
+ght. 
+
+Can. Ay, and to wage this battle at Pho 
+salia, 
+
+
+Where Cesar fought with Pompey: but these 
+offers, 
+
+
+Near Actium. Aniony’s camp. WW hick oie: not! ido hinremsiege ela 
+
+
+Thou hast forspoke my bemg in| Are those that often have ‘gaimst Reese 
+Bye etene, yours, heavy: no dis 
+
+
+ial We aa against us, why | Shall fal fall you for refusing him at sea, 
+| Being prepared for land. 
+
+
+And so should you. tts 
+Eno. Your ships are not well neh Be 
+
+
+muleters, reapers, people 
+Ingross'd by sw ft impress; S Come ee 
+
+
+fought: 
+
+
+Ani. By sea, by sea. — 
+. Most worthy siz, you therem throw | 
+away 
+The ate soldiership you hens by land; 
+Distract your army. which 
+Of war-mark'd footmen; leave unexecuted — 
+Your own renowned know! ledge; quite — 
+The way which promises assurance; and . 
+
+
+punzle| Give up yourself merely to chance and 
+hazard, z 
+
+
+I'll fight at sea. 49 
+Cleo, I have sixty sails, Cesar none better. 
+Ani. Our overplus of shippmg will we | 
+
+
+burn; 
+Aad, with toc neat. fall seemed: foal Sean P 
+of Actizum 
+Beat the approaching Czsar. But if we fail, 
+We then can do't at lend. 
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+Thy besimess? 
+
+
+Ani. Can he be there im person? “tis im- 
+possible; 
+
+Strange that his power should be. Canidivs, 
+
+Our nineteen legions thou shalt held by land, 
+
+And our twelye thousand horse. We ll to 
+
+
+our ship: 
+Keage ‘my Thetis! 
+Enter a Soldier. 
+
+
+How now, worthy soldier! 61 — 
+Sold. _© noble emperor, do not fight by 
+5 
+
+
+Egyptians 7 
+And the Phenicians go a-ducking: we +3 
+Have used to conquer, standing on hes — : 
+And fighting foot to foot. ; 
+
+Ant Well, well; away! — 
+[Exeuni Antony, Sows and Freer 
+Sold. ae Hercules, I thnk I am 7 the 
+
+
+Can. Soldier, thou art: but his whole ac 
+ten grows 
+
+
+eS 
+
+
+Regie ay 
+Act Mm, Se. c. XI] 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+= 
+
+
+W155 
+
+
+Not in a power on 't: so our leader ’s led, 7 70 
+And we are women’s men. 
+
+Sold. You keep by land 
+The legions and the horse whole, do you not? 
+Can. Marcus Octavius, Marcus Justeius, 
+
+Publicola, and Celius, are for sea: 
+But we keep whole by land. This speed of 
+
+
+Cesar’s 
+Carries beyond belief. 
+Sold. While he was yet in Rome, 
+
+
+His power went out in such distractions as 
+Beguiled all spies. 
+Can. 
+Sold. They say, one Taurus. 
+
+
+Can. ell I know the man. 
+Enter a Messenger. 
+Mess. The emperor cal!s Canidius. 80 
+
+
+Can. With news the time’s with labour, 
+and throes forth, 
+Each minute, some. 
+
+
+SCENE VIII. A plain near Actium. 
+
+
+Enter Cesar, and Taurus, with his army, 
+marching. 
+
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Ces. Taurus! . 
+Taur. My lord? 
+Ces. Strike not by tiads. keep whole: 
+provoke not battle, 
+Till we have done at sea. Do not exceed 
+The prescript of this scroll: our fortune lies 
+Upon this: jump. [Exeuni. 
+
+
+Scene 1X. Another part of the plain. 
+Enter ANTONY and ENOBARBUS. 
+‘Ant. Set we our squadrons on yon side o’ 
+the hill, 
+In eye of Czsar’s battle; from which place 
+We may the number of the ships behold, 
+And so proceed accordingly. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene X. Another part of the plain. 
+
+
+Canipius marcheth with his land army one 
+way over the stage; and Taurus, the lieu- 
+tenant of Cesar, the other way. Afier 
+their going in, is heard the noise of a sea- 
+fight. 
+
+Alarum. Enter ENosBarsus. 
+Eno. Naught, naught, all naught! 
+behold no longer: 
+
+The Antoniad, the Egyptian admiral, 
+
+With all their sixty, fly and turn the rudder: 
+
+To see’t mine eyes are blasted. 
+
+Enter Scarus. 
+Scar. Gods and goddesses, 
+
+All the whole synod of them! 
+
+Eno. What's thy passion? 
+
+
+I can 
+
+
+Who's his lieutenant, hear you?’ 
+
+
+Scar. The greater cantle of the werld” 6 
+lost 
+With very ignorance; we have kiss'd away 
+
+
+Kingdoms and provinces. 
+
+
+Eno. How appears the fight? 
+Scar. On our side like the token’d pesti- 
+lence, 
+Where death is sure. Yon ribaudred nag of 
+Egypt,— 40 
+
+
+Whom leprosy o’ertake!—i’ the midst o’ the 
+fight, 
+When vantage like a pair of twins appear’d, 
+Both as the same, or rather ours the elder, 
+The breese upon her, like a cow in June, 
+Hoists sails and flies. 
+Eno. That I beheld: 
+Mine eyes did sicken at the sight, and cowkd 
+not 
+Endure a further view. 
+Scar. She once being loof’d, 
+The noble ruin of her magic, Antony, 
+Claps on his sea-wing, and, like a doting 
+mallard, 26 
+Leaving the fight in height, flies after her: 
+I never saw an action of. such shame: 
+Experience, manhood, honour, ne'er before © 
+Did violate so itself. 
+Eno. Alack,. alack! 
+
+
+Enter Canipius. 
+Can. Our fortune on the sea- is out of 
+
+
+breath, 
+And sinks most lamentably. Had our genera! 
+Been what he knew himself, it had gone well: 
+O, he has given example for our flight, 
+Most grossly, by his own! 
+
+Eno. Ay, are you thereabouis ? 
+Why, then, good night indeed. 30 
+
+Can. Toward Peloponnesus are they fled. 
+
+Scar. "Tis easy tot; and there I wll ai- 
+
+tend 
+What further comes. 
+
+Can. To Cesar will I render 
+My legions and my horse: six kings already 
+Show me the way of yielding. 
+
+Eno. I'll yet Polite 
+The wounded chance of Antony, though my 
+
+
+reason 
+Sits in the wind against me. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+Scene XI. Alexandria. 
+
+
+palace. 
+Enter ANtony with Attendants. 
+Ant. Hark! the land bids me tread no 
+more upon 't; 
+It is ashamed to bear me! 
+hither: 
+I am so hated in the world, 
+Have lost my way for ever: 
+
+
+Cleopatra's 
+
+
+Friends, come 
+
+
+that I 
+I have a ship 
+
+
+1156 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+[Acr IH, Sc. XII 
+
+
+aden with gold; take that, divide it; fly, 
+And make your peace with Cesar. 
+All, Fly! not we. 
+aint, I have fled myself; and have in- 
+structed cowards 
+To run and show their shoulders. 
+gone; 
+i have myself resolved upon a course 
+Which has no need of you; be gone: 
+My treasure's in the harbour, take it. 
+i follow’d that I blush to look upen: 
+My very hairs do mutiny; for the white 
+Reprove the brown for rashness, and they them 
+for fear and doting. Friends, be gone: you 
+shall 
+Have letters from me to some friends that will 
+Sweep your way for you. Pray you, look 
+not sad, 
+Nor make replies of loathness: take the hint 
+Which my despair proclaims; let that be left 
+Which leaves itself: to the sea-side straight- 
+way: 
+{ will possess you of that ship and treasure, 21 
+Leave me, I pray, a little: pray you now: 
+Nay, do so; for, indeed, I have lost command, 
+Therefore I pray you: I'll see you by and by. 
+[Sits down. 
+
+
+Enter CLEOPATRA led by CHARMIAN and 
+Iras; Eros following. 
+
+
+Friends, be 
+
+
+10 
+O,~, 
+
+
+Eros. Nay, gentle madam, to him, com- 
+fort him. 
+
+fras, Do, most dear queen. 
+
+Char. Do! ‘why: what else? 
+
+Cleo. Let me sit down. O Juno! 
+
+Ant. 0, no, no, no, no. 
+
+
+Eros. See you here, sir? 30 
+Ant. O fie, fie, fie! 
+Char. Madam! 
+
+
+fras. Madam, O good empress! 
+
+Eros, Sir, sir,— 
+
+Ant, Yes, my lord, yes; he at Philippi kept 
+Fis sword e’en like a dancer; while | struck 
+The lean and wrinkled Cassius; and ‘twas I 
+That the mad Brutus ended: he alone 
+Dealt on ] eutenantry, and no practice had 
+in the brave squares of war: yet now—No 
+
+matter. 40 
+
+Cleo, Ah, stand by. 
+
+Eros. The queen, my lord, the queen. 
+
+fras. Go to him, madam, speak to him: 
+He is unqualitied with very shame. 
+
+Cleo. Well then, sustain me: O! 
+
+Eros. Most noble sir, arise; the queen ap- 
+
+proaches: 
+Her, head.’s declined, and death will seize 
+her, but 
+Your comfort makes the rescue. 
+Ani. I have offended reputation, 
+
+
+A most unnoble swerving. 
+
+
+Eros. Sir, the queen. 50 
+Ant, O, whither hast thou led me, Egypt? 
+See, 
+
+
+How I convey my shame out of thine eyes 
+By looking back what I have left behind 
+"Stroy’d in dishonour. 
+
+Cleo. O my lord, my lord, 
+Forgive my fearful sails! I little thought 
+You would have follow’d. 
+
+Anl. Egypt, thou knew’st too well 
+My heart was to thy rudder tied by the strings. 
+And thou shouldst tow me after: o'er my 
+
+spirit 
+Thy full supremacy thou knew’st, and that 
+Thy beck might from the bidding of the god» 
+Command me. 
+
+Cleo, O, my pardon! 
+
+Ant. Now I must 61 
+To the young man send humble treaties, dodge 
+And palter in the shifts of lowness; who 
+With half the bulk o” the world play’d as 1 
+
+pleased, 
+Making and marring fortunes. You did know 
+How much you were my conqueror; and that 
+My sword, made weak by my affection, would 
+Obey it on all-cause. 
+Cleo, Pardon, pardon! 
+Ant. Fall not a tear, I say; one of them 
+rates 
+All that is won and lost: give me a kiss; 70 
+Even this repays me. We sent our school- 
+master ; 
+Is he come back? Love, I am full of lead. 
+Some wine, within there, and our viands! 
+Fortune knows 
+We scorn her most when most she offers blows. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene XII. Egypt. Cesar’s camp. 
+Enter Cesar, DoLaBeLLa, THyrEus, ith 
+
+
+others, 
+Ces. Let him appear that’s come from 
+Antony. =4 
+Know you him? 
+Dol. Cesar, ‘tis his schoolmaster: 
+
+
+An argument that he is pluck’d, when hither 
+He sends so poor a pinion of his wing, 
+Which had superfluous kings for messenge-s 
+Not many moons gone by. 
+
+
+Enter EupHRONIUS, ambassador from 
+Antony, 
+
+
+Ces. Approach, and speak, 
+
+Euph. Such as I am, I come from Antony: 
+I was of late as petty to his ends 
+As is the morn-dew on the myrtle-leaf 
+To his grand sea. 
+
+Cas. Be't so; declare thine office, 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+) 
+
+
+Acr Ill, Sc. XII] 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+! 
+
+
+115? 
+
+
+og Lord of his fortunes he salutes thee, 
+an 
+Requires to live in Egypt: which not granted, 
+He lessens his requests; and to thee sues 
+To let him breathe between the heavens and 
+earth, 
+A private man in Athens: this for him. 
+Next, Cleopatra does confess thy greatness; 
+Submits her to thy might; and of thee craves 
+The circle of the Ptolemies for her heirs, 
+Now hazarded to thy grace. 
+Ces. For Antony, 
+I have no ears to his request. The queen 20 
+Of audience nor desire shall fail, so she 
+From Egypt drive her all-disgraced friend, 
+Or take his life there: this if she perform, 
+She shall not sue unhéard. So to them both. 
+Euph. Fortune pursue thee! 
+Ces. Bring him through the bands. 
+[Exit Euphronius. 
+
+
+[To Thyreus] To try thy eloquence, now ‘tis 
+
+
+time: dispatch; 
+From Antony win Cleopatra: promise, 
+And in our name, what she requires; add more, 
+From thine invention, offers: women are not 
+In their best fortunes strong; but want will 
+
+
+perjure 30 
+The ne’er-touch’d vestal: try thy cunning, 
+Thyreus; 
+
+
+Make thine own edict for thy pains, which we 
+Will answer as a law. 
+
+Thyr. Cesar, | go. 
+
+Ces. Observe how Antony becomes his flaw, 
+And what thou think’st his very action speaks 
+In every power that moyes. 
+
+
+Thyr. Cesar, I shall. [Exeunt. 
+Scene XIII. Alexandria. Cleopatra's 
+palace. 
+
+
+Enter CLEOPATRA, ENOBARBUS, CHARMIAN, 
+and IRAs. 
+
+
+Cleo. What shall we do, Enobarbus? 
+Eno. Think, and die. 
+Cleo. Is Antony or we in fault for this? 
+
+
+. Antony only, that would make his 
+wll 
+Lord of his reason. What though you fled 
+From that great face of war, whose several 
+ranges 
+Frighted each other? why should he follow? 
+The itch of his affection should not then 
+Have nick'd his captainship; at such a point, 
+When half to half the world opposed, he being 
+The meered question: ‘twas a shame no less 
+Than was his loss, to course your flying flags, 
+And leave his navy gazing. 
+
+
+Cleo. Prithee, peace. 
+
+
+Enter ANTONY and EvupuHronius, the 
+Ambassador. 
+
+
+Ant. Is that his answer? 
+Euph, Ay, my lord. 
+
+
+Ant. The queen shall then have courtesy, 
+so she 
+Will yield us up. 
+Euph. He says so. 
+Ant. Let her know ‘4. 
+
+
+To the boy Cesar send this grizzled head, 
+And he will fill thy wishes to the brim 
+With principalities. 
+
+
+Cleo. That head, my lord? 
+Ant. To him again: tell him he wears the 
+rose 20 
+
+
+Of youth upon him; from which the world 
+should note 
+Something particular: his coin, ships, legions. 
+May be a coward’s; whose ministers would 
+prevail 
+Under the service of a child as soon 
+As 3’ the command of Cesar: I dare him 
+therefore 
+To lay his gay comparisons apart, 
+And answer me declined, sword against sword, 
+Ourselves alone. I'll write it: follow me. 
+[Exeunt Antony and Euphronius. 
+Eno, [Aside] Yes, like Speushy high- 
+battled Cesar. will 
+Unstate his happiness, and be staged to the 
+show, 30 
+Against a sworder! I see men’s judgements 
+are : 
+A parcel of their fortunes; and things outward 
+Do draw the inward quality after them, 
+To suffer all alike. That he should dream, 
+Knowing all measures, the full Cesar will 
+\nswer his emptiness! Caesar, thou hast sub- 
+dued 
+His judgement too. 
+
+
+Enter an Attendant. 
+
+
+Alt. A messenger from Cesar. 
+Cleo, What, no more ceremony? See, my 
+women! 
+Against the blown rose may they stop their nose 
+That kneel’d unto the buds. Admit him, sir. 
+[Exit Attendant. 
+Eno. [Aside] Mine honesty and I begin 
+to square. 4} 
+The loyalty well held to fools does make 
+Our faith mere folly: yet he that can endure 
+To follow with allegiance a fall'n lord 
+Does conquer him that did his master conquer, 
+And earns a place i’ the story. 
+
+
+Enter THyreus. 
+
+
+Cleo. 
+Thyr. 
+
+
+Cesar's will? 
+Hear it apart. 
+
+
+’ 2a 1 PS teak tite 
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+1458 
+
+
+Cleo. 
+Thr. So, haply, are they friends to Antony. 
+Eno. He needs as many, sir, as ar has; 
+Or aeeds not us. If Cesar please, our master 
+Wil leap to be his friend: for us, you know 
+Whose he is we are, and that is, Caesar's. 
+Tavr. So. 
+Thus then, thou most renown'’d: Cesar en- 
+treats, 
+Not to consider in what case thou stand’st, 
+Further than he is Cesar. 
+Cleo. Go on: right royal. 
+Ther. He knows that you embrace not 
+Antony 
+As you did love, but as you fear’d him. 
+
+
+Cleo. oO! 
+Thvr. The scars upon your honour, there- 
+fore, he 
+Ss pity, as constrained blemishes, 
+Not as deserved. 
+
+
+Cleo. He is a god, and knows 60 
+
+What is most right: mine honour was not 
+yielded, 
+But conquer'd merely. 
+
+Eno. [Aside] To be sure of that, 
+
+i wilt ask Antony. Sir, sir, thow art so leaky, 
+That we must leave thee to thy sinking, for 
+Thy dearest quit thee. [Exit. 
+Avr. Shall I say to Cesar 
+What you require of him? for he partly begs 
+Yo be desired to give. It much would please 
+him, 
+That of his fortunes you should make a staff 
+Yo lean upon: but it would warm his spirits, 
+‘Fo hear from me you had left Antony, 70 
++ And put yourself under his shrowd, 
+The universal landlord. 
+
+Cleo. What's your name? 
+
+Ther. My name is Thyreus. 
+
+Cleo. Most kind messenger, 
+Say to great Cesar this: in deputation 
+I kiss his conquering hand: tell him, I am 
+
+prompt 
+To lay my crown at's feet, and there to 
+kneel: 
+Tell him, from his all-obeying breath I hear 
+The doom of Egypt. 
+
+Thyr. “Tis your noblest course. 
+Wisdom and fortune combating together, 
+Uf that the former dare but what it can, 
+No chance may shake it. Give me grace to lay 
+My duty on your hand. 
+
+eo. Your Cesar's father oft, 
+When he hath mused of taking kingdoms in, 
+Bestow'd his lips on that unworthy place, 
+As it rain'd kisses. 
+
+
+Re-enter ANTONY and ENosarsus. 
+Ani. Favours, by Jove that thunders! 
+
+
+None but friends: say boldly. | What art thou, fellow? . 
+
+
+vr. One that but performs 4 
+The bidding of the fullest man, and worthiest ; 
+
+
+To have command obey'd. 
+Eno. [Aside] You will be whipp’d. 
+Ant. Approach, there! Ah, you kite! Now, 
+
+gods and devils! i 
+Authority melts from me: of late, when I 
+cried ‘Ho!" 90 
+
+Like boys unto a muss, kings would start 
+
+
+orth, 
+
+And cry “Your will?” Have you no ears? 
+am 
+
+Antony yet. 
+
+
+Enter Attendants, 
+
+
+Take hence this Jack, and whip him, 
+
+Eno. [Aside] “Tis better playing with a 
+
+lion’s whelp 
+Than with an old one dying. 
+
+Ani, Moon and stars! 
+
+Whip him. Were't twenty of the greatest 
+tributaries 
+
+That do acknowledge Cesar, should I find them 
+
+So saucy with the hand of she here,—what's. 
+her name, 
+
+Since she was Cleopatra? Whip him, fellows, 
+
+Till, like a boy, you see him cringe his face, — 
+
+And whine aloud for mercy: take him hence. 
+
+Thyr. Mark Antony! 
+
+Ant. Tug him away: being whipp’d, 
+Bring him again: this Jack of Cesar’s shall 
+Bear us an errand to him. 
+
+[Exeunt Attendants with Thyreus 
+You were half blasted ere I knew you: ha! 
+Have I my piltow left unpress’d in Rome, 
+Forborne the getting of a lawful race, 
+And by a gem of women, to be abused 
+By one that looks on feeders? 
+
+Clee. Geod my lord — 
+
+Ant, You have been a boggler ever: 110 
+But when we in our viciousness grow hard— 
+O misery on "t!—the wise gods seel our eyes; 
+In our own filth drop our clear judgements;, 
+
+make us | 
+Adore our errors; laugh at's, while we strut 
+To our confusion. 
+leo. O, is "t come to this? 
+Ant. I found you as a morsel cold upon 
+
+
+80 | Dead Casar’s trencher; nay, you were a frag- 
+
+
+ment \ ‘ 
+Of Cneius Pompey's; besides what hotter 
+hours, 
+Unregister'd in vulgar fame, you have 
+Luxuriously pick’d out: for, I am sure, 120° 
+Though you can guess what temperance should 
+
+
+You know not what it is. 
+
+
+Clee, Wherefore is this? 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. I} 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+1159 
+
+
+Ant. To let a fellow that will take rewards 
+And say ‘God quit you!” be familiar with 
+My playfellow, your hand, this kingly seal 
+And plighter of high hearts! O, that I were 
+Upon the hill of Basan, to outroar 
+The horned herd! for I have savage cause; 
+And to proclaim it civilly, were like 
+A halter’d neck which does the hangman thank 
+For being yare about him, 
+
+
+Re-enter Attendants with THyYREUs. 
+
+
+Is he whipp’d? 
+First Att. Soundly, my lord. 
+Ant, Cried he? and begg’d a’ pardon? 
+First Att. He did ask favour. 
+Ant. If that thy father live, let him repent 
+Thou wast not made his daughter; and be 
+thou sorry 
+To follow Cesar in his triumph, since 
+Thou hast been whipp’d for following him: 
+henceforth 
+The white hand of a lady fever thee, 
+Shake thou to look on't. Get thee back to 
+Cesar, 
+Tell him thy entertainment: look, thou say 
+He makes me angry with him; for he seems 
+Proud and disdainful, harping on what I am, 
+Not what he knew I was: he makes me angry; 
+And at this time most easy ‘tis to do’t, 
+When my good stars, that were my former 
+guides, 
+Have empty left their orbs, and shot their fires 
+Into the abysm of hell. If he mislike 
+My speech and what is done, tell him he has 
+Hipparchus, my enfranched bondman, whom 
+He may at pleasure whip, or hang, or torture, 
+As he shall like, to quit me: urge it thou: 15] 
+Hence with thy stripes, begone! [Exit Thyreus. 
+Cleo. Have you done yet? 
+Ant. Alack, our terrene moon 
+Is now eclipsed; and it portends alone 
+
+
+The fall of Antony! 
+
+
+13] 
+
+
+Cleo. IT must stay his time. 
+Ant. To flatter Czsar, would you mingle 
+eyes 
+With one that ties his points? 
+Cleo. Not know me yet? 
+Ant. Cold-hearted toward me? 
+
+
+Cleo. Ah, dear, if I be so, 
+From my cold heart let heaven engender hail, 
+And poison it in the source; and the first stone 
+Drop in my neck: as it determines, so 16] 
+Dissolve my life! The next Czesarion smite! 
+Till by degrees the memory of my womb, 
+Together with my brave Egyptians all, 
+
+By the discandying of th’s pelleted storm, 
+Lie graveless, till. the flies and. gnats. of Nile 
+Have buried them for prey! 
+
+
+Aat, I am satisfied. 
+
+
+Caesar sits down in Alexandria; where 
+I will oppose his fate. Our force by land 
+Hath nobly held; our sever’d navy too 170 
+Have knit again, and fleet, threatening most 
+sea-like. 
+Where hast thou been, my heart? 
+hear, lady? 
+If from the field I shall return once more 
+To kiss these lips, I will appear in blood; 
+I and my sword will earn our chronicle: 
+There's hope in't yet. 
+Cleo, That’s my brave lord! 
+Ant. I will be treble-sinew’d, hearted 
+breathed, 
+And fight maliciously: for when mine hours 
+Were nice and lucky, men did ransom lives 
+Of me for jests; but now I'll set my teeth, 
+And send to darkness all that stop me. Come, 
+Let’s have one other gaudy night: call to me 
+All my sad captains; fill our bowls once more; 
+Jet ’s mock the midnight bell. 
+Cleo. It is my birth-day: 
+I had thought to have held it poor; but, since 
+my lord 
+Is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra. 
+Ant. We will yet do well. 
+Cleo. Call all his noble captains to my lord, 
+Ant. Do so, we'll speak to them; and to- 
+night I ‘Il force 196 
+The wine peep through their scars. Come on, 
+my queen; 
+There ’s sap in 't yet. The next time I do fight, 
+I'll make death love me; for I will contend 
+Even with his pestilent scythe. 
+[Exeunt all but Enobarbus. 
+Eno. Now he'll outstare the lightning. To 
+be furious, 
+Is to be frighted out of fear; and in that mood 
+The dove will peck the estridge; and I see still, 
+A diminution in our captain’s brain 
+Restores his heart: when valour preys on 
+reason, 
+Tt eats the sword it fights with. I will seek 200 
+Some way to leave him. [Exit. 
+
+
+ACT IV. 
+
+
+Scene I. Before Alexandria. Caesar's camp. 
+
+
+Dost thov 
+
+
+Enter Crzsar, Acrippa, and Mecanas, with 
+his army; Czsar reading a letter. 
+Ces. He calls me boy; and chides, as he 
+had power 
+To beat me out of Egypt; my messenger 
+He hath whipp’d with rods; dares me to 
+personal combat, 
+Cesar to Antony: let the old ruffan know 
+I have many other ways to. die; meantime 
+Laugh at his challenge. 
+Mec. Cesar must think, 
+
+
+1160 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Sc. I 
+
+
+When one so great begins to rage, he 's hunted 
+Even to falling. Give him no breath, but now 
+Make boot of his distraction: never anger 
+Made good guard for itself. 
+
+Ces. Let our best heads 10 
+Know, that to-morrow the last of many battles 
+We mean to fight: within our files there are, 
+Of those that served Mark Antony but late, 
+Enough to fetch him in. See it done: 
+
+And feast the army; we have store to do’t, 
+And they have earn d the waste. Poor Antony! 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. Alexandria. Cleopatra's palace. 
+
+
+Enter ANToNy, CLEOPATRA, ENOBARBUS, 
+CuHarMIAN, IRAs, ALEXas, with others. 
+
+
+Ant. He will not fight with me, Domitius. 
+Eno. No. 
+Ant. Why should he not? 
+
+
+Eno. He thinks, 
+better fortune, 
+He is twenty men to one. 
+
+Ant. To-morrow, soldier, 
+By sea and land I'll fight: or I will live, 
+Or bathe my dying honour in the blood 
+Shall make it live again. Woo't thou fight 
+
+well? 
+
+Eno. I'll strike, and cry “Take all. 
+
+Ant. Well said; come on. 
+Call forth my household servants: let’s to- 
+
+night 
+Be bounteous at our meal. 
+
+
+being twenty times of 
+
+
+Enter three or four Servitors. 
+
+
+Give me thy hand, 10 
+Thou hast rightly honest;—so hath 
+thou; — 
+Thou,—and _ thou,—and 
+served me well, 
+And kings have been your fellows. 
+Cleo. [Aside to Eno.] What means this? 
+Eno. [Aside to Cleo.] “Tis one of those 
+odd tricks which sorrow shoots 
+~ Out of the mind. 
+Ani. And thou art honest too. 
+I wish I could be made so many men, 
+And all of you clapp’d up together in 
+An Antony, that I might do you service 
+So good as you have done. 
+
+
+been 
+
+
+thou:—you have 
+
+
+All, The gods forbid! 
+Ant. Well, my good fellows, wait on me 
+to-night: 20 
+
+
+Scant not my cups; and make as much of me 
+As when mine emp‘re was your fellow too, 
+And suffer'd my command. 
+Cleo. [Aside to Eno.] What does he mean? 
+Eno. [Aside to Cleo.] To make his follow- 
+ers weep. 
+Ant. Tend me to-night: 
+
+
+May be it is the period of your duty: 
+
+Haply you shall not see me more; or if, 
+
+A mangled shadow: perchance to-morrow 
+
+You ‘Il serve another master. I look on you 
+
+As one that takes his leave. Mine honest 
+friends, 
+
+I turn you not away; but, likea*masie SO 
+
+Married to your good service, stay till death: 
+
+Tend me to-night two hours, I ask no more, 
+
+And the gods yield you for 't! 
+
+
+Eno. What mean you, sir, 
+To give them this discomfort? Look, they 
+weep; 
+
+
+And I, an ass, am onion-eyed: for shame, 
+Transform us not to women. 
+
+Ant. Ho, ho, ho! 
+Now the witch take me, if I meant it thus! 
+
+
+Grace grow where those drops fall! My 
+hearty friends, 
+
+You take me in too dolorous a sense; 
+
+For I spake to you for your comfort; did 
+desire you 40 
+
+To burn this night with torches: know, my 
+hearts, 
+
+
+I hope well of to-morrow; and will lead you 
+Where rather Ill expect victorious hfe 
+Than death and honour. Let’s to supper, 
+
+
+come, 
+And drown consideration. [Exeuni. 
+
+
+The same. 
+
+
+Scene III. Before the palace. 
+Enter two Soldiers to their guard. 
+First Sold. Brother, good night: to-morrow 
+is the day. 
+Sec. Sold. It will determine one way: fare 
+you well. 
+Heard you of nothing strange about the streets? 
+First Sold. Nothing. What news? 
+Sec. Sold. Belike ‘tis but a rumour. Good 
+night to you. 
+First Sold. Well, sir, good night. 
+Enter iwo other Soldiers. Sr 
+
+
+Sec. Sold. Soldiers, have careful watch. 
+ee And you. Good night, good 
+night. 
+[They place themselves in every corner 
+of the stage. 
+Fourth Sold. Here we: and if to-morrow 
+Our navy thrive, I have an absolute hope 10 
+Our landmen will stand up. 
+Third Sold. "Tis a brave army, 
+And full of purpose. 
+[Music of the hautboys as under the stage. 
+Fourth Sold. Peace! what noise? 
+First Sold. 
+Sec. Sold. Hark! 
+First Sold. 
+Third Sold, 
+
+
+List, list! . 
+
+
+Music i’ the air. 
+Under the earth. 
+
+
+! Act IV, Se. V] 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+116} 
+
+
+eee 
+
+
+Fourth Sold. It signs well, does it not? 
+Third Sold. No. 
+First Sold. Peace, I say! 
+What should this mean? 
+Sec. Sold. "Tis the god Hercules, whom 
+Antony loved, 
+Now leaves him. 
+First Sold. Walk; let ’s see if other watch- 
+men 
+Do hear what we do. 
+[They advance to another post. 
+Sec. Sold. How now, masters! 
+All, [Speaking together] How now! 
+How now! do you hear this? 
+First Sold. Ay; is ‘t not strange? 20 
+Third Sold. Do you hear, masters? do you 
+hear? 
+First Sold. Follow the noise so far as we 
+have quarter; 
+Let's see how it will gve off. 
+eal. Content. “Tis strange. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. The same. A room in the palace, 
+
+
+Enter ANTONY and CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, 
+and others attending. 
+
+
+Ant. Eros! mine armour, Eros! 
+Cleo. Sleep a little. 
+Ant. No, my chuck. Eros, come; mine 
+armour, Eros! 
+Enter Eros with armour. 
+Come, good fellow, put mine iron on: 
+If fortune be not ours to-day, it is 
+Because we brave her: come. 
+
+
+Cleo. Nay, I'll help too. 
+What's this for? 
+Ant. Ah, let be, let be! thou art 
+The armourer of my heart: false, false; this, 
+this. 
+Cleo. Sooth, la, I'll help: thus it must be. 
+
+
+Ant. Well, well; 
+We shall thrive now. Seest thou, my good 
+fellow? 
+Go put on thy defences. 
+
+
+Eros. Briefly, sir. 10 
+Cleo. Is not this buckled well? 
+Ant. Rarely, rarely: 
+
+
+He that unbuckles this, till we do please 
+To daff’t for our repose, shall hear a storm. 
+Thou fumblest, Eros; and my queen's a squire 
+
+
+More tight at this than thou: dispatch. O 
+ove, 
+' That thou couldst see my wars to-day, and 
+knew’st 
+
+
+The royal occupation! thou shouldst see 
+A workman in’t. 
+
+
+Enter an armed Soldier. 
+Good morrow to thee; welcome: 
+
+
+Thou look’st like him that knows a warlike 
+charge: 
+To business that we love we rise betime, 20 
+And go to’t with del-ght. 
+Sold. A thousand, sir, 
+Early though 't be, have on their riveted trim, 
+And at the port expect you. 
+[Shout. Trumpets flourish. 
+
+
+Enter Captains and Soldiers. 
+
+
+Capt. The morn is fair. Good morrow, 
+general. 
+
+All, Good morrow, general. 
+
+Ant. ‘Tis well blown, lads: 
+This morning, like the spirit of a youth 
+That means to be of note, begins betimes. 
+So, so; come, give me that: this way; well 
+
+said. 
+
+Fare thee well, dame, whate’er becomes of me: 
+
+This is a soldier's kiss: rebukeable 
+[Kisses her, 
+And worthy shameful check it were, to stand 
+On more mechanic compliment; I "I leave thee 
+Now, like a man of steel. You that will fight, 
+Follow me close: I'll bring you to’t. Adieu. 
+[Exeunt Antony, Eros, Captains, and 
+
+
+Soldiers. 
+
+Char. Please you, retire to your chamber. 
+
+Cleo. Lead me. 
+
+He goes forth gallantly. That he and Cesar 
+might 
+
+
+Determine this great war in single fight! 
+Then, Antony,—but now—Well, on. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene V. Alexandria. Antony's camp. 
+
+
+Trumpets sound. Enter ANTONY and Eros; 
+a Soldier meeting them. 
+
+
+Sold, The gods make this a happy day to 
+Antony! 
+Ant. Would thou and those thy scars had 
+once prevail’d 
+To make me fight at land! 
+
+Sold, Hadst thou done so, 
+The kings’ that have revolted, and the soldier 
+That has this morning left thee, would have 
+
+still 
+Follow'’d thy heels. 
+
+Ant. Who's gone this morning? 
+
+Sold. Who! 
+One ever near thee: call for Enobarbus, 
+
+He shall not hear thee; or from Cesar’s camp 
+Say ‘I am none of thine.’ 
+
+
+Ani. What say’st thou? 
+
+Sold. Sir, 
+He is with Cesar. 
+
+Eros. Sir, his chests and treasure 10 
+He has not with him. 
+
+Anil. Is he gone? 
+
+Sold. Most certain, 
+
+
+1162 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+; | OS em 
+[Act IV, Sc. VIII 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+Ant. Go, Eros, send his treasure after; do it; 
+Detain no jot, 1 charge thee: write to hm— 
+I will subscribe—gentle adieus and greetings; 
+Say that I wish he never find more cause 
+To change a master. O, my fortunes have 
+Corrupted honest men! Dispatch——Enobarbus! 
+
+
+[Exeunt. 
+Scene VI. Alexandria. Cesar’s camp. 
+Flourish. Enter Cesar, AcRIPPA, with 
+
+
+ENoparbBus, and others. 
+Ces. Go forth, Agrippa, and begin the 
+fight: 
+Our will is Antony be took alive; 
+Make it so known. 
+Agr. Cesar, I shall. [ Exit. 
+Ces. The time of universal peace is near: 
+Prove this a prosperous day, the three-nook'd 
+worl 
+
+
+Shall bear the olive freely. 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+Mess. Antony 
+Is come into the field. 
+Ces. Go charge Agrippa 
+
+
+Plant those that have revolted in the van, 
+
+That Antony may seem to spend his fury 10 
+
+Upon himself. [Exeunt all but Enobarbus. 
+Eno. Alexas did revolt; and went to 
+
+Jewry on 
+
+Affairs of Antony; there did persuade 
+
+Great Herod to incline himself to Caesar, 
+
+And leave his master Antony: for this pains 
+
+Cesar hath hang’d him. Canidius and the rest 
+
+That fell away have entertainment, but 
+
+No honourable trust. I have done ill; 
+
+Of which I do accuse myself so sorely, 
+
+That I will joy no more. 
+
+
+Enter a Soldier of CSAR’s. 
+
+
+Sold. Enobarbus, Antony 20 
+Hath after thee sent all thy treasure, with 
+His bounty overplus: the messenger 
+Came on my guard; and at thy tent is now 
+Unloading of his mules. 
+
+no. I give it you. 
+Sold. Mock not, Enobarbus. 
+I tell you true: best you safed the bringer 
+Out of the host; I must attend mine office, 
+Or would have done 't myself. Your emperor 
+Continues still a Jove. [Exit. 
+
+Eno. | am alone the villa of the earth, 30 
+And feel I am so most. O Antony, 
+
+Thou mine of bounty, how wouldst thou have 
+paid 
+
+My better service, when my turpitude 
+
+Thou dost so crown with gold! This blows 
+my heart: 
+
+If swift thought break it not, a swifter mean 
+
+
+Shall outstrike thought: but thought will do’t, ; 
+I feel. 
+
+I fight against thee! No: I will go seek 
+
+Some ditch wherein to die; the foul’st best fits 
+
+My latter part of life. [Exit. 39 
+
+
+Scene VII. Field of batile between the 
+
+
+camps. 
+
+
+Alarum. Drums and trumpets. Enter 
+
+
+AcrippPa and others. 
+Agr. Retire, we have engaged ourselves 
+too far: 
+Cesar himself has work, and our oppression 
+Exceeds what we expected. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Enter ANTONY, and Scarus 
+wounded. 
+
+
+Alarums. 
+
+
+Scar. O, my brave emperor, this is fought 
+indeed! 
+Had we done so at first, we had droven them 
+home 
+With clouts about their heads. 
+Ant. Thou bleed’st apace. 
+Scar. I had a wound here that was like a T, 
+But now ‘tis made an H. 
+
+
+Ant. They do retire. 
+Scar. We'll beat ‘em into bench-holes: I 
+have yet 
+Room for six scotches more. 10 
+
+
+Enter Eros. 
+
+
+Eros. They are beaten, sir; and our ad- 
+vantage serves 
+For a fair victory. 
+
+Scar. “Let us score their backs, 
+And snatch ‘em up, as we take hares, behind: 
+"Tis sport to maul a runner. 
+
+Ant. I will reward thee 
+Once for thy spritely comfort, and ten-fold - 
+For thy good valour. Come thee on. 
+
+Scar. I'll halt after. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene VIII. Under the walls of Alexandria. 
+
+
+Enter ANTONY, in a march; 
+Scarus, with others. 
+
+
+Ant. We have beat him to his camp: run 
+
+one before, 
+
+And let the queen know of our gests. To- 
+morrow, 
+
+Before the sun shall see ’s, we ‘Il spill the blood 
+
+That has to-day escaped. I thank you all; 
+
+For doughty-handed are you, and have fought 
+
+Not as you served the cause, but as "t had been” 
+
+Each man's like mine; you have shown all 
+Hectors. 
+
+Enter the city, clip your wives, your friends, — 
+
+
+Tell them your feats; whilst they with joyful 
+tears Q 
+
+
+Alarum. 
+
+
+i es pe NL Sas aes ae 
+Be Ges ie ie ei 
+RS a abo! Pe 
+ee hen Ae oh 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. X] 
+
+
+Wash the congealment from your wounds, and 
+
+iss 10 
+
+The honour’d gashes whole. [To Scarus] 
+Give me thy hand; 
+
+
+Enter CLEopatrA, atiended. 
+
+
+To this great fairy Ill commend thy acts, 
+
+Make her thanks bless thee. [To Cleo.] O 
+thou day o’ the world, 
+
+Chain mine armd neck; leap thou, attire and 
+
+
+all, 
+Through proof of harness to my heart, and 
+
+
+there 
+Ride on the pants triumphing! 
+Cleo. Lord of lords! 
+
+
+O infinite virtue, comest thou smiling from 
+The world’s great snare uncaught? 
+Ant. My nightingale, 
+We have beat them to their beds. What, girl! 
+though grey 
+
+
+~_Do something mingle with our younger brown, 
+
+
+yet ha’ we 
+
+A brain that nourishes our nerves, and can 
+Get goal for goal of youth. Behold this man; 
+Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand: 
+Kiss it, my warrior: he hath fought to-day 
+As if a god, in hate of mankind, had 
+Destroy’d in such a shape. 
+
+Cleo. I'll give thee, friend, 
+An armour all of gold; it was a king's. 
+
+Ant. He has deserved it, were it carbuncled 
+Like holy Phoebus’ car. Give me thy hand: 
+Through Alexandria make a jolly march; 30 
+Bear our hack’d targets like the men that owe 
+
+them: 
+
+Had our great palace the capacity 
+To camp this host, we all would sup together, 
+And drink carouses to the next day's fate, 
+Which promises royal peril. Trumpeters, 
+With brazen din blast you the city’s ear; 
+Make mingle with our rattling tabourines; 
+That heaven and earth may strike their sounds 
+
+
+together, 
+Applauding our approach. [Exeunt. 39 
+Scene IX. Cesar’s camp 
+Sentinels at their post. 
+First Sold. If we be not relieved within 
+this hour, 
+We must return to the court of guard: the 
+night 
+Is shiny; and they say we shall embattle 
+By the second hour i’ the morn, 
+Sec. Sold. This last day was 
+
+
+A shrewd one to’s. 
+Enter ENOBARBUS. 
+
+
+Eno. O, bear me witness, night,— 
+
+
+Third Sold. What man is this? 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+™. 
+
+
+1163 
+
+
+Sec. Sold. Stand close, and list him. 
+Eno. Be witness to me, O thew blessed 
+moon, 
+When men revolted shall upon record 
+Bear hateful memory, poor Enobarbus did 
+Before thy face repent! 
+First Sold. Enobarbus! 
+Third Sold. Peace! 
+Hark further. 
+Eno. O sovereign mistress of true melan- 
+choly, 
+The poisonous damp of night disponge upon 
+me, 
+That life, a very rebel to my will, 
+May hang no longer on me: throw my heart 
+Against the flint and hardness of my fault; 
+Which, being dried with grief, will break to 
+powder, ’ 
+And finish all foul thoughts. O Antony, 
+
+
+Nobler than my revolt is infamous, 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+Forgive me in thine own particular; 20 
+0. | But let the world rank me in register 
+
+A master-leaver and a fugitive: 
+
+O Antony! O Antony! [Dies. 
+Sec. Sold. Let's speak 
+
+To him. 
+First Sold. Let's hear him, for the things 
+
+he speaks 
+
+May concern Cesar. 
+
+Third Sold. Let’s do so. But he sleeps. 
+
+
+First Sold. Swoons rather; for so bad a 
+prayer as his 
+Was never yet for sleep. 
+
+
+Sec. Sold. Go we to him. 
+
+Third Sold. Awake, sir, awake; speak to 
+us. 
+
+Sec. Sold. Hear you, sir? 
+
+
+First Sold. The hand of death hath raught 
+h'm. [Drums afar off.] Hark! the drums 
+Demurely wake the sleepers. Let us bear him 
+To the court of guard; he is of note: our hour 
+Is fully out. 
+Third Sold. Come on, then; 
+He may recover yet. [Exeunt with the body. 
+
+
+Scene X. Between the two camps. 
+Enter ANTONY and Scarus, with their Army. 
+Ant. Their preparation is to-day by sea; 
+
+We please them not by land. 
+Scar. For both, my lord. 
+Ant. I would they ‘Id fight i’ the fire or i’ 
+the air; 
+We 'ld fight there too. But this it is; our foot 
+Upon the hills adjoining to the city 
+Sha!] stay with us: order for sea is given; 
++ They have put forth the haven. . . : 
+Where their appointment we may best dis- 
+
+
+cover, 
+And look on their endeavour- {Exeunt. 9 
+
+
+1164 
+
+
+Scene XI. 
+Enter Czesar, and his Army, 
+
+
+Another part of the same. 
+
+
+Ces. But being charged, we will be still 
+by land, 
+Which, as | take 't, we shall; for his best force 
+Is forth to man his galleys. To the vales, 
+And hold our best advantage. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene XII. 
+Enter ANTONY and Scarus. 
+
+
+Another part of the same. 
+
+
+Ant. Yet they are not join’'d: where yond 
+pine does stand, 
+I shall discover all: I Il bring thee word 
+Straight, how ‘tis like to go. [Exit. 
+Scar. Swallows have built 
+In Cleopatra's sails their nests: the augurers 
+Say they know not, they cannot tell; look 
+grimly, 
+And dare not speak their knowledge. Antony 
+Is valiant, and dejected; and, by starts, 
+His fretted fortunes give him hope, and fear, 
+Of what he has, and has not. 
+
+
+[Alarum afar off, as at a sea-fight. 
+Re-enter ANTONY. 
+
+
+Ant. All is lost; 
+This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me: 10 
+My fleet hath yielded to the foe; and yonder 
+They cast their caps up and carouse together 
+Like friends long lost, Triple-turn’d whore! 
+
+‘tis thou 
+Hast sold me to this novice; and my heart 
+Makes only wars on thee. Bid them all fly; 
+For when I am revenged upon my charm, 
+I have done all. Bid them all fly; begone. 
+[Exit Scarus. 
+O sun, thy uprise shall I see no more: 
+Fortune and Antony part here; even here 
+Do we shake hands. All come to this? The 
+hearts 20 
+That spaniel’d me at heels, to whom I gave 
+Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets 
+On blossoming Cesar; and this pine is bark’d, 
+That overtopp’d them al!. Betray’d I am: 
+O this false soul of Egypt! this grave charm,— 
+Whose eye beck'd forth my wars, and call'd 
+them home; 
+Whose bosom was my crownet, my chief end,— 
+Like a right gipsy, hath, at fast and loose, 
+Beguiled me to the very heart of loss. 
+What, Eros, Eros! 
+Enter CLEOPATRA. 
+Ah, thou spell! Avaunt! 30 
+
+Cleo. Why is my lord enraged against his 
+
+love? 
+
+Ant. Vanish, or I shall give thee thy 
+
+
+deserving, 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. XIV 
+
+
+And blemish Cesar’s triumph. Let him take 
+thee, 
+
+And hoist thee up to the shouting plebeians: 
+
+Follow his chariot, like the greatest spot 
+
+Of all thy sex; most monster-like, be shown 
+
+For poor’st diminuties, for doits; and let 
+
+Patient Octav a plough thy visage up 
+
+With her prepared nails. [Exit Cleopatra, 
+
+"Tis well thou ‘rt gone, 
+
+If it be well to live: but better “twere 40 
+
+Thou fell’st into my fury, for one death 
+
+Might have prevented many. Eros, ho! 
+
+The shirt of Nessus is upon me: teach me, 
+
+Alcides, thou mine ancestor, thy rage: 
+
+Let me lodge Lichas on the horns o’ the 
+moon; 
+
+And with those hands, that grasp’d the heav- 
+
+
+iest club, 
+
+Subdue my worthiest self. The witch shall 
+de: 
+
+To the young Roman boy she hath sold me, 
+and | fall 
+
+Under this plot; she dies for ‘t. Eros, ho! 49 ~ 
+
+[ Exit, 
+Scene XIII. Alexandria. Cleopatra's 
+palace. 
+
+
+Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAs, 
+and MarpIAN. ; 
+
+
+Cleo. Help me, my women! O, he is 
+more mad 
+Than Telamon for his shield; the boar of 
+Thessaly 
+Was never so emboss’d. 
+Char. . To the monument! 
+
+
+There lock yourself, and send him word you 
+are dead. 
+
+The soul and body rive not more in parting 
+
+Than greatness going off. 
+
+Cleo, To the monument! 
+Mardian, go tell him I have slain myself; 
+Say, that the last I spoke was ‘Antony,’ 
+gpcorerd it, prithee, piteously: hence, Maz-_. 
+
+ian, 
+And bring me how he takes my death. To 
+the monument! [Exeunt. 10 
+
+
+SceNnE XIV. The same. Another room, 
+Enter ANTONY and Eros. 
+
+
+Ant. Eros, thou yet behold’st me? 
+Eros. Ay, noble lord. 
+Ant, Somet’me we see a cloud that’s dra- 
+gonish ; 
+A vapour sometime like a bear or lion, 
+A tower'd citadel, a pendent rock, 
+A forked mountain, or blue promontory 
+With trees upon't, that nod unto the world, 
+And mock our eyes with air: thou hast seen 
+these signs; 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. X1Vj 
+
+
+They are black vesper’s pageants. 
+
+
+Eras. Ay, my lord. 
+Ant. That which is now a horse, even with 
+a thought 
+
+
+The rack dislimns, and makes it indistinct, 10 
+As water is in water. 
+Eros. It does, my lord. 
+Ant. My good knave Eros, now thy cap- 
+tain is 
+“ven such a body: here I am Antony; 
+Yet cannot hold this visible shape, my knave. 
+I made these wars for Egypt; and the 
+queen,— 
+Whose heart I thought I had, for she had 
+mine; 
+Which whilst it was mine had annex'd unto ’t 
+A million more, now lost—she, Eros, has 
+Pack'd cards with Cesar, and false-play’d my 
+glory 
+Unto an enemy's triumph. 20 
+Nay, weep not, gentle Eros; there is left us 
+Ourselves to end ourselves. 
+
+
+Enter Marvian. 
+
+
+O, thy vile lady! 
+She has robb'd me of my sword. 
+
+
+Mar. No, Antony; 
+My mistress loved thee, and her fortunes 
+mingled 
+With th.ne entirely. 
+Ani. Hence, saucy eunuch; peace! 
+
+
+She hath betray’d me and shall die the death. 
+Mar. Death of one person can be paid but 
+once, 
+And that she has discharged: what thou 
+~ wouldst do 
+Is done unto thy hand: the last she spake 
+Was ‘Antony! most noble Antony!" 30 
+Then in the midst a tearing groan did break 
+The name of Antony; it was divided 
+Between her heart and lips: she render'd life, 
+Thy name so buried in her. 
+Ant. Dead, then? 
+Mar. Dead. 
+Ant, Unarm, Eros; the long day's task is 
+done, 
+And we must sleep. [To Mar.] That thou 
+depart’st hence safe, 
+Does pay thy labour richly; go. 
+
+
+[Exit Mardian. | T 
+
+
+Off, pluck of: 
+The seven-fold shield of Ajax cannot keep 
+The battery from my heart. O, cleave, my 
+
+sides! 
+
+Heart, once be stronger than thy continent, 40 
+Crack thy frail case! Apace, Eros, apace. 
+No more a soldier: bruised pieces, go; 
+You have been nobly borne. From me awhile. 
+
+
+[Exit Eros. 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+1165 
+
+
+I will o’ertake thee, Cleopatra, and 
+
+Weep for my pardon. So it must be, for now 
+All length is torture: since the torch is out, 
+Lie down, and stray no farther: now all 
+
+labour 
+
+Mars what it does; yea, very force entangles 
+Itself with strength: seal them, and all is done. 
+Eros!—I come, my queen:—Eros!—Stay for 
+
+
+me: 
+
+Where souls do couch on flowers, we'll hand 
+in hand, 
+
+And with our sprightly port make the ghosts 
+
+
+gaze: 
+Dido and her /Eneas shall want troops, 
+And all the haunt be ours. Come, Eros, 
+Eros! 
+
+
+Re-enter Eros. 
+
+
+Eros. What would my lord? 
+Ant. Since Cleopatra died, 
+I have lived in such dishonour, that the gods 
+Detest my baseness. I, that with my sword 
+Quarter’d the world, and o’er green Nep- 
+tune’s back 
+With ee made cities, condemn myself to 
+lac 
+The courage of a woman; less noble mind 60 
+Than she which by her death our Cesar tells 
+“I am conqueror of myself.’ Thou art sworn, 
+ros, 
+That, when the exigent should come, which 
+now 
+Is come indeed, when I should see behind me 
+The inevitable prosecution of 
+Disgrace and horror, that, on my command, 
+Thou then wouldst kill me: do't; the time is 
+
+
+come: 
+Thou strikest not me, ‘Hs Cesar thou de- 
+feat'st. 
+Put colour in thy cheek. 
+Eros. The gods withhold me! 
+
+
+Shall I do that which all the Parthian darts, 
+
+Though enemy, lost aim, and could not? 
+nt. Eros, 7] 
+
+Wouldst thou be window'd in great Rome and 
+see 
+
+Thy master thus with pleach’d arms, bending 
+down 
+
+His corrigible neck, his face subdued 
+
+© penetrat ve shame, whilst the wheel’d seat 
+
+Of fortunate Cesar, drawn before him, 
+branded 
+
+
+His baseness that ensued? 
+
+
+Eros. I would not see 't. 
+Ant. Come, then; for with a wound I must 
+be cured. 
+Draw that thy honest sword, which thou hast 
+worn 
+
+
+Most useful for thy country. 
+
+
+1166 
+
+
+Eros. O, sir, pardon me! 80 
+
+Ant, When I did make thee free, sworest 
+
+thou not then 
+
+To do this when I bade thee? Do it at once; 
+
+Or thy precedent services are all 
+
+But accidents unpurposed. Draw, and come. 
+Eros. Turn from me, then, that noble 
+
+countenance, 
+
+Wherein the worship of the whole world lies. 
+Ant. Lo thee! [Turning from him. 
+Eros. My sword is drawn. 
+
+Ant. Then let it do at once 
+The thing why thou hast drawn it. 
+
+Eros. My dear master, 
+My captain, and my emperor, let me say, 90 
+Before | strike this bloody stroke, farewell. 
+
+Ant. “Tis said, man; and farewell. 
+
+Eros. Farewell, great chief. Shall I strike 
+
+now ? 
+
+Ant. Now, Eros, 
+
+Eros. Why, there then: thus I do escape 
+
+
+the sorrow 
+Of Antony's death. [Kills himself. 
+Ant. Thrice-nobler than myself! 
+
+
+Thou teachest me, O valiant Eros, what 
+I should, and thou couldst not. My queen 
+and Eros 
+Have by their brave, instruction got upon me 
+A nobleness in record: but I will be 
+A bridegroom in my death, and run into’t 
+As to a lover’s bed. Come, then; and, Eros, 
+Thy master dies thy scholar: to do thus 
+[Falling on his sword. 
+I learn'd of How! not dead? not 
+dead? 
+The guard, ho! O, dispatch me! 
+Enter DeRcETAS and Guard. 
+First Guard. What's the noise? 
+Ant. | have done my work ill, friends: O, 
+make an end 
+Of what I have begun. 
+Sec. Guard. The star is fall’n. 
+First Guard. And time is at his period. 
+
+
+thee. 
+
+
+All. Alas, and woe! 
+Ant. et him that loves me strike me dead. 
+First Guard. Not I. 
+See. Guard. Nor I. 
+
+Third Guard. Nor any one. 110 
+
+
+[Exeunt Cuard. 
+Der. Thy death and fortunes bid thy fol- 
+lowers fly. 
+This sword but shown to Cesar, with this 
+tidings, 
+3hall enter me with him. 
+Enter DIoMEDEs. 
+Dio, Where's Antony? 
+Der. There, Diomed, there. 
+Dio. Lives he? 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+RE aS ee 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Se. XV 
+
+
+Wilt thou not answer, man? [Exit Dercetas. 
+Ant. Art thou there, Diomed? Draw thy 
+sword, and give me 
+Sufficing strokes for death. 
+Dio. Most absolute lord, 
+My mistress Cleopatra sent me to thee. 
+
+
+Ant. When did she send thee? 
+
+
+Dio. Now, my lord. 
+Ant. Where is she? 
+Dio. Lock'd in her monument. She had a 
+
+prophesying fear 120 
+
+
+Of what hath come to pass: for when she 
+saw— 
+
+Which never shall be found—you did suspect 
+
+She had disposed with Cesar, and that your 
+
+
+rage 
+
+Would not be purged, she sent you word she 
+was dead; 
+
+But, fearing since how it might work, hath 
+sent 
+
+
+Me to proclaim the truth; and I am come, 
+I dread, too late. 
+Ant. Too late, good Diomed: call my 
+guard, I prithee. 
+Dio. What, ho, the emperor's guard! The 
+guard, what, ho! ; 
+130 
+
+
+Come, your lord calls! 
+Enter four or five of the Guard of ANTONY. 
+
+
+Ant. Bear me, good friends, where Cleo- 
+patra bides; 
+"Tis the last service that I shall command you. 
+First Guard. Woe, woe are we, sir, you 
+may not live to wear 
+
+
+"| All your true followers out. 
+
+
+All. Most heavy day! 
+Ant. Nay, good my fellows, do not please 
+sharp fate 
+To grace it with your sorrows: bid that wel- 
+come 
+Which comes to punish us, and we punish it 
+Seeming to bear it lightly. Take me up: 
+I have led you oft: carry me now, good 
+friends, 
+And have my thanks for all. 140 
+[Exeunt, bearing Antony. 
+
+
+Scene XV. The same. A monument. 
+
+
+Enter CLEOPATRA, and her maids aloft, 
+with CHARMIAN and IRAs, 
+
+
+Cieo. O Charmian, I will never go from 
+
+hence. 
+
+Char. Be comforted, dear madam. 
+
+Cleo. No, I will not: . 
+All strange and terrible events are welcome, 
+But comforts we despise; our size of sorrow, 
+Proportion’d to our cause, must be as great 
+
+
+As that which makes it. 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. XV] 
+
+
+y 
+
+
+Enter, below, DiomEDEs. 
+
+
+How now! is he dead? 
+
+Dio. His death's upon him, but not dead. 
+
+Look out o’ the other side of your monument; 
+His guard have brought him thither. 
+
+
+Enter, below, ANTONY, borne by the Guard. 
+
+
+Cleo. O sun, 
+Burn the great sphere thou movest in! dark- 
+ling stand 10 
+
+
+The varying shore o’ the world. O Antony, 
+Antony, Antony! Help, Charmian, help, 
+Iras, help; 
+Help, friends below; let's draw him hither. 
+Ant. Peace! 
+Not Cesar’s valour hath o’erthrown Antony, 
+But Antony’s hath triumph'd on itself. 
+Cleo. So it should be, that none but An- 
+tony 
+Should conquer Antony; but woe ‘tis so! 
+Ant. 1 am dying, Egypt, dying; only 
+I here importune death awhile, until 
+Of many thousand kisses the poor last 
+I lay upon thy lips. 
+leo. I dare not, dear,— 
+Dear my lord, pardon,—I dare not, 
+Lest I be taken: not the imperious show 
+Of the full-fortuned Cesar ever shall 
+Be brooch’d with me; if knife, drugs, ser- 
+pents, have 
+Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe: 
+Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes 
+And still conclusion, shall acquire no honour 
+Demuring upon me. But come, come, An- 
+tony,— 
+Help me, my women,—we must draw thee up: 
+Assist, good friends. 
+Ant. O, quick, or I am gone. 31 
+Cleo. Here’s sport indeed! How heavy 
+weighs my lord! 
+Our strength is all gone into heaviness, 
+That makes the weight: had I great Juno's 
+power, 
+The strong-wing’d Mercury should fetch thee 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+up, 
+And set thee by Jove’s side. Yet come a 
+little, — 
+Wishers were ever fools;—O, come, come, 
+come; 
+[They heave Antony aloft to Cleopatra. 
+And welcome, welcome! die where thou hast 
+lived: 
+Quicken with kissing: had my lips that power, 
+Thus would J wear them out. 
+All. A heavy sight! 40 
+Ant. 1 am dying, Egypt, dying: 
+Give me some wine, and let me speak a little. 
+Cleo. No, let me speak; and let me rail 
+so high, 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+1167 
+
+
+That the false housewife Fortune bréak her 
+
+
+wheel, 
+Provoked by my offence. 
+Ant. One word, sweet queen: 
+
+
+Of ree seek your honour, with your safety. 
+! 
+Cleo. They do not go together. 
+Ant. Gentle, hear me: 
+None about Casar trust but Proculeius. 
+Cleo. My resolution and my hands I 'Il trust; 
+None about Cesar. 50 
+Ant. The miserable change now at my end 
+
+
+Lament nor sorrow at; but please your 
+thoughts 
+
+In feeding them with those my former for- 
+tunes 
+
+Wherein I lived, the greatest prince o’ the 
+world, 
+
+
+The noblest; and do now not basely die, 
+Not cowardly put off my helmet to 
+
+My countryman,—a Roman by a Roman 
+Valiantly vanquish’'d. Now my spirit is go- 
+
+
+ing; 
+I can no more, 
+Cleo. Noblest of men, woo 't die? 
+
+
+Hast thou no care of me? shall I abide 60 
+In this dull world, which in thy absence is 
+No better than a sty? O, see, my women, 
+[Antony dies. 
+The crown o’ the earth doth melt. My lord! 
+O, wither'd is the garland of the war, 
+The soldier’s pole is fall’n: young boys and 
+girls 
+Are level now with men; the odds is gone, 
+And there is nothing left remarkable 
+Beneath the visiting moon. [Faints. 
+Char. O, quietness, lady! 
+Tras. She isr dead too, our sovereign. 
+Char. Lady! 
+Tras. Madam! 
+Char. O madam, madam, madam! 
+Tras. Royal Egypt, 70 
+Empress! 
+Char. Peace, peace, Iras! 
+Cleo. No more, but e’en a woman, and 
+commanded 
+By such poor passion as the maid that milks 
+And does the meanest chares. It were for me 
+To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods; 
+To tell them that this world did equal theirs 
+Till they had stol’n our jewel. All's but 
+naught; 
+Patience is sottish, and impatience does 
+
+
+Become a dog that’s mad: then is it sin 80 
+
+To rush into the secret house of death, 
+
+Ere death dare come to us? How do you, 
+women ? 
+
+What, what! good cheer! Why, how now, 
+Charmian! 
+
+
+1168 
+
+
+My noble girls! Ah, women, women, look, 
+Our lamp is spent, it's out! Good sirs, take 
+heart: 
+We'll bury him; and then, what’s brave, 
+what's noble, 
+Let's do it after the high Roman fashion, 
+And make death proud to take us. Come, 
+away: 
+This case of that huge spirit now is cold: 
+Ah, women, women! come; we have no 
+friend 
+But resolution, and the briefest end. 91 
+[Exeunt; those above bearing off 
+Antony's body. 
+
+
+ACT V. 
+
+
+Scene I, Alexandria. Cesar's camp. 
+
+
+Enter Casar, Acrippa, DoLABELLA, MEcE- 
+Nas, GaLLus, PRocuLelus, and others, his 
+council of war. 
+
+
+Ces. Go to him, Dolabella, bid him yield; 
+Being so frustrate, tell him he mocks 
+The pauses that he makes. 
+
+Dol. Cesar, I shall. [Exit. 
+
+
+Enter Dercetas, with the sword of ANTONY. 
+
+
+Ces. Wherefore is that? and what art 
+thou that darest 
+Appear thus to us? 
+Der. I am call’d Dercetas; 
+Mark Antony I served, who best was worthy 
+Best to be served: whilst he stood up and 
+spoke, 
+He was my master; and I wore my life 
+To spend upon his haters. If thou please 
+To take me to thee, as I was to him 
+I'll be to Cesar; if thou pleasest not, 
+I yield thee up my life. 
+Ces. What ist thou say’st? 
+. I say, O Cesar, Antony is dead. 
+Ces. The breaking of so great a thing 
+should make 
+A greater crack: +the round world 
+Should have shook lions into civil streets, 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+And citizens to their dens: the death of 
+Antony 
+Is not a single doom; in the name lay 
+A moiety of the world. 
+Der. He is dead, Cesar; 
+Not by a public minister of justice, 20 
+
+
+Nor by a hired knife; but that self hand, 
+
+Which writ his honour in the acts it did, 
+
+Hath, with the courage which the heart did 
+lend it, 
+
+Splitted the heart. This is his sword; 
+
+I robb’d his wound of it; behold it stain’a 
+
+With his most noble blood. 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+[Acr V, Sc. I 
+
+
+Ces. Look you sad, friends? 
+The gods rebuke me, but it is tid.ngs 
+To wash the eyes of kings. 
+
+Agr. And strange it is, 
+That nature must compel us to lament 
+Our most persisted deeds. 
+
+
+Mec. His taints and honours 30 
+Waged equal with him. 
+Agr. A rarer spirit never 
+
+
+Did steer humanity: but you, gods, will give 
+us 
+Some faults to make us men. Cesar is touch’d. 
+Mec. When such a spacious mirror’s set 
+before him, 
+He needs must see himself. 
+Ces. O Antony! 
+I have follow'd thee to this; but we do lance 
+Diseases in our bodies: I must perforce 
+Have shown to thee such a declining day, 
+Or look on thine; we could not stall together 
+In the whole world: but yet let me lament, 40 
+With tears as sovereign as the blood of hearts, 
+That thou, my brother, my competitor 
+In top of all design, my mate in empire, 
+Friend and companion in the front of war, 
+The arm of m’ne own body, and the heart 
+Where mine his thoughts did kindle,—that our 
+stars, + 
+Unreconciliable, should divide 
+Our equalness to this. Hear me, good friends,— 
+But I will tell you at some meéter season: 
+
+
+Enter an Egyptian. 
+
+
+The business of this man looks out of him; 
+We'll hear him*what he says. Whence are 
+you? 
+
+Egyp. A poor Egyptian yet. The queen 
+
+my mistress, 
+Confined in all she has, her monument, 
+Of thy intents desires instruction, 
+That she preparedly may frame herself 
+To the way she’s forced to. 
+
+Ces. Bid her have good heart: 
+She soon shall know of us, by some of ours, 
+How honourable and how kindly we 
+Determine for her; for Czsar cannot live 
+
+
+To be ungentle. 
+Egyp. So the gods preserve thee! [Exit. 60 
+Ces. Come hither, Proculeius. Go and 
+say, 
+We purpose her no shame: give her what 
+comforts 
+
+
+The quality of her passion shall require, 
+
+Lest, in her greatness, by some mortal stroke 
+
+She do defeat us; for her life in Rome 
+
+Would be eternal in our triumph: go, 
+
+And with your speediest bring us what she 
+says, 
+
+
+And how you find of her. 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. I] 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+1169 
+
+
+Pro. Cesar, I shall. [Exit. 
+Ces. Gallus, go you along. [Exit Gallus.] 
+Where's Dolabella, 
+To second Proculeius? 
+
+All. Dolabella! 70 
+Ces. Let him alone, for | remember now 
+How he's employ'd: he shall in time be ready. 
+Go with me to my tent; where you shall see 
+How hardly I was drawn into this war; 
+How calm and gentle I proceeded still 
+In all my writings: go with me, and see 
+
+
+What I can show in this. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Alexandria. A room in the 
+
+
+monument. 
+
+
+Scene II. 
+
+
+Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, and Iras, 
+
+
+Cleo. My desolation does begin to make 
+A better life. "Tis paltry to be Cesar; 
+Not being Fortune, he's but Fortune’s knave, 
+-A minister of her will: and it is great 
+To do that thing that ends all other deeds; 
+Which shackles accidents and bolts up change; 
+Which sleeps, and never palates more the dug, 
+The beggar’s nurse and Cesar’s. 
+
+
+Enter, to the gates of the monument, Procu- 
+LeIus, GaLLus, and Soldiers. 
+
+
+Pro, Cesar sends greeting to the Queen of 
+Egypt; 
+And b:ds thee study on what fair demands 10 
+
+
+Thou mean’st to have him grant thee. 
+
+
+Cleo. What's thy name? 
+Pro. My name is Proculeius. 
+Cleo. Antony 
+
+
+Did tell me of you, bade me trust you; but, 
+
+I do not greatly care to be deceived, 
+
+That have no use for trusting. If your mas- 
+ter 
+
+Would have a queen his beggar, you must 
+tell him, 
+
+That majesty, to keep decorum, must 
+
+No less beg than a kingdom: if he please 
+
+To give me conquer’d Egypt for my son, 
+
+He gives me so much of mine own, as | 
+
+Will kneel to him with thanks. 
+
+Pro. Be of good cheer; 
+
+You're fall'’n into a princely hand, fear 
+nothing: 
+
+Make your full reference freely to my lord, 
+
+Who is so full of grace, that it flows over 
+
+Of all that need: let me report to him 
+
+Your sweet dependency; and you shall find 
+
+A conqueror that will pray in aid for kind- 
+ness, 
+
+Where he for grace is kneel’d to. 
+
+Cleo. Pray you, tell him 
+1 am his fortune’s vassal, and I send him 
+The greatness he has got. I hourly learn 30 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+A doctrine of obedience; and would gladly 
+Look him i’ the face. 
+
+Pro. This I'll report, dear lady. 
+Have comfort, for I know your plight is pitied 
+Of him that caused it. 
+
+Gal. You see how easily she may be sur- 
+
+prised: 
+
+[Here Proculeius and two of the Guard 
+ascend the monument by a ladder placed 
+against a window, and, having descend- 
+ed, come behind Cleopatra. Some of the 
+Guard unbar and open the gates. 
+
+[To Proculeius and the Guard] Guard her 
+till Cesar come. [ Exit. 
+
+Tras. Royal queen! 
+
+Char. O Cleopatra! thou art taken, queen, 
+
+Cleo. Quick, quick, good hands. 
+
+[Drawing a dagger. 
+
+Pro. Hold, worthy lady, hold: 
+[Seizes and disarms her. 
+Do not yourself such wrong, who are in this 
+Relieved, but not betray'd. 
+
+Cleo. What, of death too, 
+That rids our dogs of languish? 
+
+Pro. Cleopatra, 
+
+Do not abuse my master’s bounty by 
+
+The undoing of yourself: let the world see 
+His nobleness well acted, which your death 
+Will never let come forth. 
+
+Cleo. Where art thou, death? 
+Come hither, come! come, come, and take a 
+
+queen 
+Worth many babes: and beggars! 
+
+
+Pro. O, temperance, lady! 
+
+Cleo. Sir, I will eat no meat, I'll not 
+drink, sir; 
+
+If idle talk will once be necessary, 50 
+
+
+I'll not sleep neither: this mortal house I ‘Il 
+ruin, 
+
+Do Cesar what he can. Know, s‘r, that I 
+
+Will not wait pinion’d at your master’s court; 
+
+Nor once be chastised with the sober eye 
+
+Of dull Octavia. Shall they hoist me up 
+
+And show me to the shouting varletry 
+
+Of censuring Rome? Rather a ditch in 
+Egypt 
+
+Be gentle grave unto me! rather on Nilus’ mud 
+
+Lay me stark naked, and let the water-flies 
+
+Blow me into abhorring! rather make 60 
+
+My country's high pyramids my g bbet, 
+
+And hang me up in chains! 
+
+Pro. You do extend 
+
+These thoughts of horror further than you 
+shall 
+
+Find cause in Cesar. 
+
+
+Enter DoLABELLA. 
+
+
+Dol. Proculeius, 
+What thou hast done thy master Cesar knows. 
+
+
+1170 
+
+
+And he hath sent for thee: for the queen, 
+I'll -take her to my guard, 
+Pro. So, Dolabella, 
+It shall content me best: be gentle to her. 
+[To Cleo.] To Cesar I will speak what you 
+shall please, 
+If you'll employ me to him. 
+Cleo. Say, I would die. 79 
+[Exeunt Proculeius and Soldiers. 
+Dol. Most noble empress, you have heard 
+
+
+of me? 
+Cleo. I cannot tell. 
+Dol. Assuredly you know me. 
+Cleo. No matter, sir, what I have heard or 
+known. 
+You laugh when boys or women tell their 
+dreams; 
+
+
+{st not your trick> 
+Dol. 1 understand not, madam. 
+Cleo, I dream’d there was an Emperor 
+Antony: 
+O, such another sleep, that I might see 
+But such another man! 
+Dol. If it m ght please ye,— 
+Cleo. His face was as the heavens; and 
+therein stuck 
+A sun and moon, which kept their course, and 
+
+
+lighted 80 
+The little O, the earth. 
+
+Dol. Most sovereign creature,— 
+
+Cleo. His legs bestrid the ocean: his 
+
+
+reard arm 
+Crested the world: his voice was propertied 
+Ass all the tuned spheres, and that to friends; 
+But when he meant to quail and shake the 
+orb, 
+He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty, 
+There was no winter in't; an autumn ‘twas 
+That grew the more by reaping: his delights 
+Were dolphin-like; they show’d his back 
+above 
+The element they lived in: in his livery 90 
+Walk'd crowns and crownets; realms and 
+islands were 
+As plates dropp’d from his pocket. 
+ol. Cleopatra! 
+Cleo. Think you there was, or might be, 
+such a man 
+As this I dream'd of? 
+Dol. Gentle madam, no. 
+Cleo. You lie, up to the hearing of the 
+gods. 
+But, if there be, or ever were, one such, 
+It’s past the size of dreaming: nature wants 
+stuff 
+To vie strange forms with fancy; yet, to 
+imagine 
+An Antony, were nature's piece ‘gainst fancy, 
+Condemning shadows quite. 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+ete’ 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. I 
+
+
+Dol. Hear me, good madam. 100 
+Your loss is as yourself, great; and you bear 
+it 
+As answering to the weight: would I might 
+never 
+O'ertake pursued success, but I do feel, 
+By the rebound of yours, a grief that smites 
+My very heart at root. 
+Cleo. I thank you, sir. 
+Know you what Czsar means to do with me? 
+Dol. 1 am loath to tell you what I would 
+you knew. 
+Cleo. Nay, pray you, sir,— 
+
+ol. Though he be honourable,— 
+Cleo. He'll lead me, then, in triumph? 
+Dol. Madam, he will; I know 't 110 
+
+[Flourish, and shout within, ‘Make way 
+
+there; Cesar!” 
+
+
+Enter C@sar, Gaius, Procuteius, Mecz#- 
+NAS, SELEUCUs, and others of his train. 
+
+
+Ces. Which is the Queen of Egypt? 
+Dol. It is the emperor, madam. 
+[Cleopatra kneels. 
+Ces. Arise, you shall not kneel: 
+I pray you, rise; rise, Egypt. 
+
+
+eo. Sir, the gods 
+Will have it thus; my master and my lord 
+I must obey. 
+
+
+Ces. Take to you no hard thoughts: 
+The record of what injuries you did us, 
+Though written in our flesh, we shall remem- 
+
+
+ber 
+As things but dene by chance. 
+Cleo. Sole sir o’ the world. 
+I cannot project mine own cause so well [21 
+To make it clear; but do confess I have 
+Been laden with like frailties which before 
+Have often shamed our sex. 
+Ces. Cleopatra, know, 
+We will extenuate rather than enforce; 
+If you apply yourself to our intents, 
+Which spopraacl you are most gentle, you shall ~ 
+fin 
+A benefit in this change; but if you seek 
+To lay on me a cruelty, by taking 
+Antony's course, you shall bereave yourself 
+Of my good purposes, and put your children 
+To that destruction which I'll guard them 
+from, } 
+If thereon you rely. I'll take my leave. 
+Cleo, And may, through all the world: ‘tis 
+yours; and we, 
+Your scutcheons and your signs of conquest, 
+
+
+shall 
+
+
+Hang in what place you please. Here, my 
+good lord. 
+Ces, You shall advise me in all for Cleo- 
+patra. 
+
+
+| Bee tae 
+7: . tT? * . £ 
+
+
+- Aer V, Se Ul] 
+
+
+and jewels, 
+
+_ I am possess’d of: tis exactly valued; 
+
+Not petty things admitted. Where ’s Seleucus >? 
+Sel. Here, madam. 14] 
+Cleo. This is my treasurer: let him speak, 
+
+my lord, 
+
+Upon his peril, that I have reserved 
+
+To myself nothing. Speak the truth, Se- 
+
+leucus. 
+Sel. Madam, 
+
+I had rather seal my lips, than, to my peril, 
+
+Speak that which is not, 
+
+Cleo. What have I kept back? 
+Sel. Enough to purchase what you have 
+made known. 
+
+
+Ces. Nay, blush not, Cleopatra; I ap- 
+prove 
+Your wisdom ia the deed. 
+Cleo. See, Cesar! O, behold, 
+How pomp is follow’d! mine will now be 
+yours; 
+And, should we shift estates, yours would be 
+mine. 
+
+
+The ingratitude of this Seleucus does 
+
+Even make me wild: O slave, of no more 
+trust 
+
+Than love that’s hired! 
+back? thou shalt 
+
+
+What, goest thou 
+
+
+Go back, I warrant thee; but I ‘Il catch thine 
+eyes, 
+Though they had wings: slave, soulless vil- 
+lain, dog! 
+O rarely base! 
+Ces. Good queen, let us entreat you. 
+
+
+Cleo. O Cesar, what a wounding shame is 
+this, 
+That thou, vyouchsafing here to visit me, 
+Doing the honour of thy lordliness 
+To one so meek, that mine own servant should 
+Parcel the sum of my disgraces by 
+Addition to his envy! Say, good Cesar, 
+That I some lady trifles have reserved, 
+Immoment toys, things of such dignity 
+As we greet modern friends withal; 
+say, 
+Some nobler token I have kept apart 
+For Livia and Octavia, to induce 
+Their mediation; must I be unfolded 
+With one that I have bred? 
+smites me 
+Beneath the fall I have, [To Seleucus] Prithee, 
+go hence; 
+Or I shall show the cinders of my spirits 
+Through the ashes of my chance: wert thou 
+a man, 
+Thou wouldst have mercy on me. 
+Ces, Forbear, Seleucus. 
+(Exit Seleucus. 
+
+
+160 
+
+
+and 
+
+
+170 
+The gods! it 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+Cleo. This is the brief of money, plate, 
+
+
+1171 
+
+
+Cleo, Be it known, that we, the greatest, 
+are misthought 
+For things that others do; and, when we fall, 
+We answer others’ merits in our name, 
+Are therefore to be pitied. 
+Ces. Cleopatra, 
+Not what you have reserved, nor what ac- 
+knowledged, 180 
+Put we i’ the roll of conquest: still be ’t yours, 
+Bestow it at your pleasure; and believe, 
+Ceesar’s no merchant, to make prize with you 
+Of things that merchants sold. Therefore be 
+cheer'd; 
+Make not your thoughts your prisons: no, dear 
+"queen; 
+For we intend so to dispose you as 
+Yourself shall give us counsel. Feed, and 
+sleep; 
+Our care and pity is so much upon you, 
+That we remain your friend; and so, adieu. 
+Cleo. My master, and my lord! 
+Ces. Not so. Adieu. 
+[Flourish. Exeunt Cesar and his train. 
+Cleo. He words me, girls, he words me, 
+that I should not 191 
+Be noble to myself: but, hark thee, Charmian, 
+[Whispers Charmian. 
+Tras. Finish, good lady; the bright day is 
+
+
+done, 
+And we are for the dark. 
+Cleo. Hie thee again: 
+
+
+I have spoke already, and it is provided; 
+Go put it to the haste. 
+Char. Madam, I will. 
+
+
+Re-enter DOLABELLA. 
+
+
+Dol. Where is the queen? 
+Char. Behold, sir. [Exit 
+Cleo, Dolabella! 
+Dol. Madam, as thereto sworn by your 
+command, 
+Which my love makes religion to obey, 
+I tell you this: Czsar through Syria 200 
+Intends his journey; and within three days 
+You with your children will he send before: 
+Make your best use of this: I have perform’d 
+Your pleasure and my promise. 
+
+
+Cleo. Dolabella, 
+I shall remain your debtor. 
+Dol. I your servant. 
+
+
+Adieu, good queen; I must attend on Caesar. 
+Cleo. Farewell, and thanks. 
+[Exit Dolabella. 
+
+Now, Iras, what think’st thou? 
+Thou, an Egyptian puppet, shalt be shown 
+In Rome, as well as I: mechanic slaves 
+With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers, shall 
+Uplift us to the view; in their thick breaths, 
+Rank of gross diet, shall we be enclouded, 
+
+
+1172 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. Il 
+
+
+And forced to drink their vapour. 
+Tras. The gods forbid! 
+Cleo. Nay, ‘tis most certain, Iras: saucy 
+lictors 
+Will catch at us, like strumpets; and scald 
+rhymers 
+Ballad us out 0’ tune: the quick comedians, 
+Extemporally will stage us, and present 
+Our Alexandrian revels; Antony 
+Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see 
+Some squeaking Cleopatra boy my greatness 
+I’ the posture of a whore, 
+Tras. O the good gods! 221 
+Cleo. Nay, that’s certain. 
+Tras. I'll never see't; for, I am sure, my 
+nails 
+Are stronger than mine eyes. 
+Cleo. Why, that's the way 
+To fool their preparation, and to conquer 
+Their most absurd intents. 
+
+
+Re-enter CHARMIAN. 
+
+
+Now, Charmian! 
+Show me, my women, like a queen: go fetch 
+My best attires: I am again for Cydnus, 
+To meet Mark Antony: sirrah Iras, go. 
+Now, noble Charmian, we ‘Il dispatch indeed; 
+And, when thou hast done this chare, I ‘Il 
+give thee leave 231 
+To play till doomsday. Bring our crown and 
+all. 
+Wherefore 's this noise? 
+[Exit Iras. A noise within. 
+
+
+Enter a Guardsman. 
+
+
+Guard. Here is a rural fellow 
+
+That will not be denied your highness’ pres- 
+ence: 
+
+He brings you figs. 
+
+Cleo. Lethimcomein. [Exit Guardsman. 
+
+What poor an instrument 
+
+May do a noble deed! he brings me liberty. 
+My resolutions placed, and I have nothing 
+Of woman in me: now from head to foot 
+I am marble-constant; now the fleeting moon 
+No planet’ is of mine. 
+
+
+Re-enter Guardsman, with Clown bringing in 
+a basket. 
+
+
+Guard. This is the man. 
+Cleo. Avoid, and leave him. 
+[Exit Guardsman. 
+Hast thou the pretty worm of Nilus there, 
+That kills and pains not? 
+
+Clown. Truly, I have him: but I would 
+not be the party that should desire you to 
+touch him, for his biting is immortal; those 
+that do die of it do seldom or never recover. 
+
+
+Cleo. Rememberest thou any that have 
+died on ’t? 249 
+
+
+241 
+
+
+‘own. Very many, men and women too. 
+I heard of one of them no longer than yes- 
+terday: a very honest woman, but something 
+given to lie; as a woman should not do, but 
+in the way of honesty: how she.died of the 
+biting of it, what pain she felt: truly, she 
+makes a very good report o' the worm; but 
+he that will believe all that they say, shall 
+never be saved by half that they do: but 
+this is most fallible, the worms an odd worm. 
+
+Cleo. Get thee hence; farewell. 260 
+
+Clown. I wish you all joy of the worm. 
+
+[Setting down his basket. 
+
+Cleo. Farewell. 
+
+Clown. You must think this, look you, that 
+the worm will do his kind. 
+
+Cleo. Ay, ay; farewell, 
+
+Clown. Look you, the worm is not to be 
+trusted but in the keeping of wise people; for, 
+indeed, there is no goodness in the worm. 
+
+Cleo. Take thou no care; it shall be heeded. 
+
+Clown. Very good. Give it nothing, | 
+pray you, for it is not worth the feeding. 271 
+
+Cleo. Will it eat me? 
+
+Clown. You must not think I am so sim- 
+ple but I know the dev | himself will not eat 
+a woman: | know that a woman is a dish for 
+the gods, if the devil dress her not. But, 
+truly, these same whoreson devils do the gods 
+great harm in their women; for in every ten 
+that they make, the devils mar five. 
+
+Cleo. Well, get thee gone; farewell. 280 
+
+Clown. Yes, forsooth: I wish you joy o° 
+the worm. es [Exit. 
+
+
+Re-enter Iras with a robe, crown, &c. 
+
+
+Cleo. Give me my robe, put on my crown; 
+I have 
+Immortal longings in me: now no more 
+The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip: 
+Yare, yare, good Iras; quick. Methinks I hear 
+Antony call; I see him rouse himself 
+To praise my noble act; I hear him mock 
+The luck of Cesar, which the gods give men 
+To excuse their after wrath: husband, I come. 
+Now to that name my courage prove my title! 
+I am fire and air; my other elements 
+I give to baser life. So; have you done? 
+Come then, and take the last warmth of my 
+lips. 
+Farewell, kind Charmian; Iras, long farewell. 
+[Kisses them. Iras falls and dies, 
+Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall? 
+If thou and nature can so gently part, 
+The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, 
+Which hurts, and is desired. Dost thou lie 
+still > 
+If thus thou vanishest, thou tell’st the world 
+It is not worth leave-taking. 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. II] 
+
+
+ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
+
+
+1173 
+
+
+Char. Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain; that 
+I may say, 
+The gods themselves do weep! 
+
+Cleo. This proves me base: 
+If she first meet the curled Antony, 
+
+He ‘ll make demand of her, and spend that kiss 
+Which is my heaven to have. Come, thou 
+mortal wretch, 
+
+[To an asp, which she applies to her breast. 
+With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate 
+Of life at once untie: poor venomous fool, 
+Be angry, and dispatch. O, couldst thou speak, 
+That I might hear thee call great Cesar ass 
+
+
+Unpolicied! 
+Char. O eastern star! 
+Cleo. Peace, peace! 311 
+
+
+Dost thou not see my baby at my breast, 
+That sucks the nurse asleep? 
+Char. O, break! O, break! 
+Cleo. As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as 
+gentle,— 
+O Antony!—Nay, I will take thee too: 
+[Applying another asp to her arm. 
+What should I stay— [Dies. 
+Char, In this vile wor!d? So, fare thee well. 
+Now boast thee, death, in thy possession lies 
+A lass unparallel'd. Downy windows, close; 
+And golden Phcebus never be beheld 320 
+Of eyes again so royal! Your crown’s awry; 
+I'll mend it, and then play. 
+
+
+Enter the Guard, rushing in. 
+
+
+First Guard. Where is the queen? 
+Char. Speak softly, wake her not. 
+First Guard. Czsar hath sent— 
+Char. Too slow a messenger. 
+[Applies an asp. 
+O, come apace, dispatch! I partly feel thee. 
+First Guard. Approach, ho! All's not 
+well: Czsar’s beguiled. 
+Sec. Guard. There's Dolabella sent from 
+Cesar; call him. 
+First Guard. What work is here! 
+mian, is this well done? 
+Char. It is well done, and fitting for a 
+princess 
+Descended of so many royal kings. 330 
+[Dies. 
+
+
+Ah, soldier! 
+Re-enter DoLABELLA. 
+
+
+Dol. How goes it here? 
+Sec. Guard. All dead. 
+
+
+Char- 
+
+
+Dol. Cesar, thy thoughts 
+Touch their effects in this: thyself art coming 
+To see perform’d the dreaded act which thou 
+So sought’st to hinder. 
+
+[Within “A way there, a way for Cesar!” 
+
+
+Re-enter Cfsar and all his train, marching. 
+
+
+Dol. O sir, you are too sure an augurer; 
+That you did fear is done. 
+
+Ces, Bravest at the last, 
+She levell’d at our purposes, and, being royal, 
+Took her own way. The manner of their 
+
+
+deaths ? 340 
+I do not see them bleed. 
+Dol. Who was last with them? 
+
+
+First Guard. A simple countryman, that 
+brought her figs: 
+This was his basket. 
+
+Ces. Poison'd, then. 
+
+First Guard. O Caesar, 
+This Charmian lived but now; she stood and 
+
+spake: 
+I found her trimming up the diadem 
+On her dead mistress; tremblingly she stood 
+And on the sudden dropp’d. 
+
+Ces. O noble weakness! 
+If they had swallow'd poison, ‘twould appear 
+By external swelling: but she looks like sleep, 
+As she would catch another Antony 350 
+In her strong toil of grace. 
+
+Dol. Here, on her breast, 
+There is a vent of blood and something blown: 
+The I ke is on her arm. 
+
+First Guard. This is an aspic’s trail: and 
+
+these fig-leaves 
+Have slime upon them, such as the aspic leaves 
+Upon the caves of Nile. 
+
+Ces. Most probable 
+That so she died; for her physician tells me 
+She hath pursued conclusions infinite 
+Of easy ways to die. Take up her bed; 
+And bear her women from the monument: 
+She shall be buried by her Antony: 361 
+No grave upon the earth shall clip in it 
+A pair so famous. High events as‘ these 
+Strike those that make them; and their story is 
+No less in pity than his glory which 
+Brcught them to be lamented. Our army shall 
+In solemn show attend this funeral; 
+
+And then to Rome. Come, Dolabella, see 
+High order in this great solemnity. [Exeunt, 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSON/E 
+
+
+CyMBELINE, king of Britain. 
+
+CLOTEN, son to the Queen by a former 
+husband. 
+
+PostHumus LEONATUS, a_ gentleman, 
+husband to Imogen. 
+
+Bexarius, a banished lord, disguised 
+under the name of Morgan. 
+
+sons to Cymbeline, dis- 
+
+guised under the names of 
+
+Polydore and Cadwal, 
+
+supposed sons to Morgan. 
+
+Puivario, friend to Posthumus, : 
+
+TactiiMoy friend. te Philarion ” j alians. 
+
+Caius Lucius, general of the Roman 
+forces. 
+
+PIsanio, servant to Posthumus. 
+
+CorRNELIUS, a physician. 
+
+
+GuIbDERIUus, 
+ARVIRAGUS, 
+
+
+ACT I. 
+
+
+Scene I. Britain. The garden of 
+Cymbeline’s palace. 
+
+
+Enter two Gentlemen. 
+
+
+First Gent. You do not meet a man but 
+frowns: our bloods 
+No more obey the heavens than our courtiers 
+Swill seem as does the king. 
+Sec. Gent. But what's the matter? 
+First Gent. Wis daughter, and the heir 
+of ‘'s kingdom, whom 
+He purposed to his wife’s sole son—a widow 
+That late he married—hath referr'd herself 
+Unto a poor but worthy gentleman: she’s 
+wedded; 
+Her husband banish'd; she imprison’d: all 
+Is outward sorrow; though I| think the king 
+Be touch'd at very heart. 
+Sec. Gent. None but the king? 10 
+First Gent. He that hath lost her too; so 
+is the queen, 
+That most, desired the match; but not a 
+courtier, 
+Although they wear their faces to the bent 
+Of the king’s looks, hath a heart that is not 
+Glad at the thing they scowl] at. 
+Sec. Gent. And why so? 
+First Gent. He that hath miss’d the prin- 
+cess is a thing 
+Too bad for, bad report: and he that hath 
+
+
+her-— 
+
+
+A Roman Captain. 
+
+Two British Captains. 
+
+A Frenchman, friend to Philario. 
+
+Two Lords of Cymbeline’s court. 
+
+Two Gentlemen of the same. 
+
+Two Gaolers. 
+
+Queen, wife to Cymbeline. 
+
+IMoGEN, daughter to Cymbeline by a 
+
+former queen. 
+
+HELEN, a lady attending on Imogen. 
+Lords, Ladies, Roman Senators, Tribunes, a 
+
+Soothsayer, a Dutchman, a Spaniard, 
+
+Musicians, Officers, Captains, Soldiers, 
+
+Messengers, and other attendants. 
+
+
+Apparitions. 
+Scene: Britain; Rome. 
+
+
+I mean, that married her, alack, good man! 
+And therefore banish’d—is a creature such 
+As, to seek through the regions of the earth 
+For one his like, there would be something 
+failing } 
+In him that should compare. I do not think 
+So fair an outward and such stuff within 
+Endows a man but he. 
+Sec. Gent. You speak him far. 
+First Gent. I do extend him, sir, within 
+himself, 
+Crush him together rather than unfold 
+His measure duly. 
+Sec. Gent. |What's his name and birth? 
+First Gent, 1 cannot delve him to the root: 
+his father ee 
+Was called Sicilius, who did join his hon- 
+our 
+Against the Romans with Cassibelan, 30 
+But had his titles by Tenantius whom 
+He served with glory and admired success, 
+So gain'd the sur-addition Leonatus; 
+And. had, besides this gentleman in question, 
+Two other sons, who in the wars o' the 
+time 
+Died with their swords in hand; for which 
+their father, 
+Then old and fond of issue, took such sor- 
+row 
+That he quit being, and his gentle lady, 
+Big of this gentleman our theme, deceased 
+
+
+As he was born. The king he takes the babe 
+
+
+\174 
+
+
+> og 
+
+
+Wii 32 eS ee 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+1175 
+
+
+Act I, Se. I] 
+
+To his protection, calls him Posthumus Leo- 
+natus, 
+
+en him and makes him of his bed-cham- 
+er, 
+
+
+Puts to him all the learnings that his time 
+
+Could make him the receiver of; which he 
+took, 
+
+As we do air, fast as “twas minister’d, 
+
+And in’s spring became a harvest, lived in 
+
+
+court— 
+
+Which rare it is to do—most praised, most 
+loved, 
+
+A sample to the youngest, to the more ma- 
+ture 
+
+
+A glass that feated them, and to the graver 
+A child that guided dotards; to his mistress, 
+For whom he now is banish’d, her own price 
+Proclaims how she esteem’d him and his vir- 
+tue; 
+By her election may be. truly read 
+What kind of man he is. 
+Sec. Gent. 
+
+
+Even out of your report. 
+
+
+me, 
+
+Is she sole child to the king? 
+First Gent. His only child. 
+He had two sons: if this be worth your hear- 
+ing, 
+Mark it: the eldest of them at three years 
+
+
+I honour him 
+But, pray you, tell 
+
+
+° 
+I’ the swathing-clothes the other, from their 
+
+
+nursery 
+Were stol’n, and to this hour no guess in 
+knowledge 60 
+Which way they went. 
+Sec. Gent. How long is this ago? 
+
+
+First Gent. Some twenty years. 
+Sec. Gent. That a king’s children should 
+be so convey'd, 
+So slackly guarded, and the search so slow, 
+That could not trace them! 
+First Gent. Howsoe’er ‘tis strange, 
+Or that the negligence may well be laugh’d 
+at, 
+“Yet it is true, sir. 
+Sec. Gent. ~° I do well believe you. 
+First Gent. We must forbear: here comes 
+the gentleman, 
+The queen, and princess. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Enter the QUEEN, PostHuMus, and IMOGEN. 
+
+
+Queen. No, be assured you shall not find 
+me, daughter, 
+After the slander of most stepmothers, 
+Evil-eyed unto you: youre my prisoner, but 
+Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys 
+That lock up your restraint. For you, Post- 
+humus, 
+So soon as I can win the offended king, 
+
+
+I will be known your advocate: marry, yet 
+
+The fire of rage is in him, and ‘twere good 
+
+You lean'd unto his sentence with what pa- 
+tlence 
+
+Your wisdom may inform you. 
+
+
+Post. Please your highness, 
+I will from hence to-day. 
+Queen. You know the peril. 80 
+
+
+I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying 
+The pangs of barr’d affections, though the 
+
+
+king 
+Hath charged you should not speak together. 
+[Exit. 
+Imo. Oo 
+
+
+How fine this tyrant 
+My dearest 
+
+
+Dissembling courtesy! 
+
+Can tickle where she wounds! 
+husband, 
+
+I something fear my father’s wrath; but no- 
+thirtg— 
+
+Always reserved my holy duty—what 
+
+His rage can do on me: you must be gone; 
+
+And | shall here abide the hourly shot 
+
+Of angry eyes, not comforted to live, 
+
+But that there is this jewel in the world 
+
+That I may see again. 
+
+Post. My queen! my mistress! 
+
+O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause 
+
+To be suspected of more tenderness 
+
+Than doth become a man. I will remain 
+
+The loyal’st husband that did e’er plight 
+troth: 
+
+My residence in Rome at one Philario’s, 
+
+Who to my father was a friend, to me 
+
+Known but by letter: thither write, my 
+
+
+90 
+
+
+queen, 
+And with mine eyes I ‘ll drink the words you 
+send, 100 
+
+
+Though ink be made of gall. 
+Re-enter QUEEN. 
+
+
+Queen, Be brief, I pray you: 
+If the king come, I shall incur I know not 
+How much of his displeasure. [Aside] 
+
+Yet I'l! move him 
+To walk this way: I never do him wrong, 
+But he does buy my injuries, to be friends; 
+Pays dear for my offences. [Exit 
+
+Post. Shoula we be taking leave 
+As long a term as yet we have to live, 
+
+The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu! 
+
+Imo. Nay, stay a little: 
+
+Were you but riding forth to air yourself, 
+
+Such parting were too petty. Look here, 
+love; 
+
+This diamond was my mother’s: 
+heart; 
+
+But keep it till Yow woo another wife, 
+
+When Imogen is dead. 
+
+Post. 
+
+
+take it, 
+
+
+How, how, another ? 
+
+
+1176 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+[Act I, Sc, I 
+
+
+You gentle gods, give me but this I have, 
+And sear up my embracements from a next 
+With bonds of death! [Putting on the ring.] 
+Remain, remain thou here 
+While sense can keep it on. And, sweetest, 
+fairest, ; 
+As I my poor self did exchange for you, 
+To your so infinite loss, so in our trifles 120 
+I still win of you: for my sake wear this; 
+It is a manacle of love; I'll place it 
+Upon this fairest prisoner. 
+[Putting a bracelet upon her arm. 
+Imo. O the gods! 
+When shall we see again? 
+
+
+Enter CyMBELINE and Lords. 
+
+
+Post. Alack, the king! 
+Cym. Thou basest thing, avoid! hence, 
+from my sight! 
+If after this command thou fraught the court 
+With thy unworthiness, thou diest: away! 
+Thou ‘rt poison to my blood. 
+
+Post. The gods protect you! 
+And bless the good remainders of the court! 
+I am gone. [Exit. 
+
+Imo. There cannot be a pinch in death 130 
+More sharp than this is. 
+
+Cyn. O disloyal thing, 
+That should’st repair my youth, thou heap’st 
+A year’s age on me. 
+
+Imo. I beseech you, sir, 
+Harm not yourself with your vexation: 
+
+I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more 
+rare 
+Subdues all pangs, all fears. 
+
+Cym. Past grace? obedience? 
+
+Imo. Past hope, and in despair; that way, 
+
+past grace. 
+
+Cym. That mightst have had the sole son 
+
+
+of my queen! 
+
+
+Imo. O blest, that I might not! I chose 
+an eagle, 
+And did avoid a puttock. 140 
+
+
+Cym. Thou took’st a beggar; wouldst have 
+made my throne 
+A seat for baseness. 
+
+
+Imo. No; I rather added 
+A lustre to it. 
+
+Cym. O thou vile one! 
+
+Imo. Sir, 
+
+
+It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus: 
+You bred him as my playfellow, and he is 
+A man worth any woman, overbuys me 
+Almost the sum he pays. 
+
+
+Cym. What, art thou mad? 
+Imo. Almost, sir: heaven restore me! 
+Would I were 
+
+
+A neat-herd’s daughter, and my Leonatus 
+
+
+Our neighbour shepherd’s son! 
+Cym. Thou foolish thing! 
+
+
+Re-enter QUEEN. 
+
+
+They were again together: you have done 
+Not after our command. Away with her, 
+And pen her up. 
+
+Queen. Beseech your patience. Peace, 
+Dear lady daughter, peace! Sweet sovereign, 
+Leave us to ourselves; and make yourself 
+
+some comfort 
+Out of your best advice. 
+
+Cym. Nay,\ let her languish 
+A drop of blood a day; and, being aged, 
+Die of this folly! 
+
+[Exeunt Cymbeline and Lords, 
+
+
+150 
+
+
+Queen. Fie! you must give way. 
+Enter Pisanio. 
+Here is your servant. How now, sir! What 
+news? 
+Pis. My lord your son drew on my mas- 
+ter. 
+Queen. IIa! 160 
+
+
+No harm, I trust, is done? 
+
+Pis. There might have been, 
+But that my master rather play’d than fought 
+And had no help of anger: they were parted 
+By gentlemen at hand. 
+
+Queen. I am very glad on’t. 
+
+Imo. Your son’s my father’s friend; he 
+
+takes his part. 
+To draw upon an exile! O brave sir! 
+I would they were in Afric both together; 
+Myself by with a needle, that I might prick 
+The goer-back» Why came you from your 
+
+
+master ? 
+Pis. On his command: he would not suf- 
+fer me 170 - 
+
+
+To bring him to the haven; left these notes 
+Of what commands I should be subject to, 
+When 't pleased you to employ me. 
+
+
+Queen, This hath been 
+Your faithful servant: I dare lay mine hon-~. 
+our 
+
+
+He will remain so. 
+
+
+Pis. I humbly thank your highness 
+Queen. Pray, walk awhile. 
+Imo. About some half-hour hence, 
+
+
+I pray you, speak with me: you shall at least 
+Go see my lord aboard: for this time leave 
+me. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. The same. A public place. 
+Enter CLoTEN and two Lords. 
+
+First Lord. Sir, I would advise you to 
+shift a shirt; the violence of action hath made 
+you reek as a sacrifice: where air comes out, 
+air comes in: there’s none abroad so whole- 
+some as that you vent. 
+
+
+Act I, Se. IV] 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+1177 
+
+
+Clo. If my shirt were bloody, then to shift 
+it. Have I hurt him? 
+
+Sec. Lord. [Aside] No, 
+much as his patience. 
+
+First Lord. Hurt him! his body 's a pass- 
+able carcass, if he be not hurt: it is a through- 
+fare for steel, if it be not hurt. 
+
+Sec. Lord. [Aside] His steel was in debt; 
+it went o' the backside the town. 
+
+Clo. The villain would not stand me. 
+
+Sec. Lord. [Aside] No; but he fled for- 
+ward still, toward your face. 
+
+First Lord. Stand you! You have land 
+enough of your own: but he added to your 
+having; gave you some ground. 20 
+
+Sec. Lord. [Aside] As many inches as you 
+have oceans. Puppies! 
+
+Clo. I would they had not come between 
+
+
+us. 
+
+Sec. Lord. [Aside] So would I, till you 
+-had measured how long a fool you were upon 
+the ground. 
+
+Clo. And that she should love this fellow 
+and refuse me! 
+
+Sec. Lord. [Aside] If it be a sin to make 
+a true election, she is damned. 30 
+
+First Lord. Sir, as | told you always, her 
+beauty and her brain go not together: she’s a 
+good sign, but I have seen small reflection of 
+her wit. 
+
+Sec. Lord. [Aside] She shines not upon 
+fools, lest the reflection should hurt her 
+
+Clo. Come, I'll to my chamber. Would 
+
+there had been some hurt done! 
+
+Sec. Lord. [Aside] I wish not so; unless 
+it had been the fall- of an ass, tanich is no 
+’ great hurt. 
+
+Clo. You'll go with us? 40 
+First Lord. I'll attend your lordship. 
+Clo. Nay, come, let’s go together. 
+
+Sec. Lord. Well, my lord. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+‘Scene III. A room in Cymbeline’s palace. 
+Enter IMoGEN and PIsANIo. 
+Imo. I would thou grew’st unto the shores 
+
+
+o’ the haven, 
+
+And question’dst every sail: if he should 
+write, 
+
+And I not have it, ‘twere a paper lost, 
+
+As offer'd mercy is. What was the last 
+
+That he spake to thee? 
+
+
+‘faith; not so 
+
+
+Pis. It was his queen, his queen! 
+Imo. Then waved his handkerchief? 
+
+is. And kiss’d. it, madam. 
+Imo. Senseless linen! happier therein than 
+
+
+I! 
+fad that was all? 
+o, madam; for so long 
+As Ke could make me with this eye or ear 
+
+
+Distinguish him from others, he did keep i0 
+The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief, 
+
+
+Still waving, as the fits and stirs of ’s mind 
+
+
+9| Could best express how slow his soul sail’d 
+
+
+on, 
+How swift his ship. 
+Imo. Thou shouldst have made him 
+As little as a crow, or less, ere left 
+To after-eye him. 
+Pis. Madam, so [| did. 
+Imo. I would have broke mine eye-strings; 
+crack’d them, but 
+To look upon him, till the diminution 
+Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle, 
+Nay, follow'd him, till he had melted from 
+
+
+The smallness of a gnat to air, and then 
+
+
+Have turn’d mine eye and wept. But, good 
+Pisanio, 
+
+When shall we hear from him? 
+is. Be assured, madam, 
+
+
+With his next vantage. 
+ee did not take my leave of him, but 
+ha 
+Most pretty things to say: ere I could tell him 
+How I would think on him at certain hours 
+Such thoughts and such, or I could make him 
+swear 
+The shes of Italy should not betray 
+Mine interest and his honour, or have charged 
+im, 30 
+At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at mid- 
+night, 
+To encounter me with orisons, for then 
+I am in heaven for him; or ere I could 
+Give him that parting kiss which I had set 
+Betwixt two charming words, comes in my 
+father 
+And like the tyrannous breathing of the 
+north 
+Shakes all our buds from growing. 
+
+
+Enter a Lady. 
+
+
+Lady. The queen, madam, 
+Desires your highness’ company. 
+Imo. Those things I bid you do, get them 
+dispatch’d. 
+I will attend the aus 
+Pis. Madam, I shall. 
+
+
+[Exeunt. 40 
+
+
+Scene IV. Rome. 
+
+
+Enter Puivario, JAcHIMo, a Frenchman, 
+a Dutchman, and a Spaniard. 
+
+
+Philario’s house. 
+
+
+Tach. Believe it, sir, I have seen him in 
+Britain: he was then of a crescent note, ex- 
+pected to prove so worthy as since he hath 
+been allowed the name of; but I could then 
+have looked on him witheut the help of ad- 
+miration, though the catalogue of his endow- 
+
+
+1178 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+Ri hae 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. IV 
+
+
+ments had been tabled by his side and I to 
+peruse him by items, 
+
+Phi. You speak of him when he was less 
+furnished than now he is with that which 
+makes him both without and within. 10 
+
+French. | have seen him in France: we had 
+very many there could behold the sun with 
+as firm eye as he. 
+
+Iach. This matter of marrying his king's 
+daughter, wherein he must be weighed rather 
+by her value than his own, words him, I 
+doubt not, a great deal from the matter. 
+
+French. And then his banishment. 
+
+Tach. Ay, and the approbation of those 
+that weep this lamentable divorce under her 
+colours are wonderfully to extend him; be it 
+but to fortify her judgement, which else an 
+easy battery might lay flat, for taking a beg- 
+gar without less quality. But how comes it he 
+is to sojourn with you? How creeps ac- 
+quaintance ? 
+
+Phi. His father and I were soldiers to- 
+gether; to whom I have been often bound for 
+no less than my life. Here comes the Briton: 
+let him be so entertained amongst you as 
+suits, with gentlemen of your knowing, to a 
+stranger of his quality. 30 
+
+
+Enier PosTHUMUS. 
+
+
+I beseech yeu all, be better known to this 
+gentleman, whom I commend to you as a 
+noble friend of mine: how worthy he is I 
+will leave to appear hereafter, rather than 
+story him in his own hearing. 
+
+French. Sir, we have known together in 
+Orleans. 
+
+Post. Since when I have been debtor to 
+you for courtesies, which I will be ever to pay 
+and yet pay still. 40 
+
+French. Sir, you o’er-rate my poor kind- 
+ness: | was glad I did atone my countryman 
+and you; it had been pity you should have 
+been put together with so mortal a purpose as 
+then each bore, upon importance of so slight 
+and trivial a nature. 
+
+Post. By your pardon, sir, I was then a 
+young traveller; rather shunned to go even 
+with what I heard than in my every action 
+to be guided by others’ experiences: but upon 
+my mended judgement—if | offend not to say 
+it is mended—my quarrel was not altogether 
+slight. 
+
+French. ‘Faith, yes, to be put to the ar- 
+' bitrement of swords, and by such two that 
+would by all likelihood have confounded one 
+the other, or have fallen both. 
+
+Tach. Can we, with manners, ask what 
+was the difference? 
+
+
+French. Safely, 1 think: ‘twas a conten- 
+tion in public, which may, without contradic- 
+tion, suffer the report. It was much like an 
+argument that fell out last night, where each 
+of us fell in praise of our country mistresses; 
+this gentleman at that time vouching—and 
+upon warrant of bloody affirmation—his to be 
+more fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, constant- 
+qualified and less attemptable than any the 
+rarest of our ladies in France. 
+
+lach. That lady is not now living, or this 
+gentleman's opinion by this worn out. 
+
+Post. She holds her virtue still and I my 
+mind. 
+
+lach. You must not so far prefer her ‘fore 
+ours of Italy. 71 
+
+Post. Being so far provoked as I was in 
+France, | would abate her nothing, though I 
+profess myself her adorer, not her friend. 
+
+Tach. As fair and as good—a kind of 
+hand-in-hand comparison—had been some- 
+thing too fair and too good for any lady 
+in Britain. If she went before others 1 have 
+seen, as that diamond of yours outlustres 
+many I have beheld, I could not but believe 
+she excelled many: but I have not seen the 
+most precious diamond that is, nor you the 
+lady. 
+
+Post. I praised her as I rated her: so do I 
+my stone. 
+
+Tach. What do you esteem it at? 
+
+Post. More than the world enjoys. 
+
+Tach. Either your unparagoned mistress is 
+dead, or she’s outprized by a trifle. 
+
+Post. You are mistaken: the one may be 
+sold, or given, if there were wealth enough 
+for the purchase, or merit for the gift: the 
+other is not a thing for sale, and only the gift 
+of the gods. 
+
+Tach. Which the gods have given you? 
+
+Post. Which, by their graces, J will keep. 
+
+Tach. ‘You may wear her in title yours: 
+but, you know, strange fowl light upon neigh-~ 
+bouring ponds. Your ring may be stolen too: 
+so your brace of unprizable estimations; the 
+one is but frail and the other casual; a cun- 
+ning thief, or a that way accomplished cour- 
+tier, would hazard the winning both of first 
+and last. 
+
+Post. Your Italy contains none so accom- 
+plished a courtier to convince the honour of 
+my mistress, if, in the holding or loss of that, 
+you term her frail. I do nothing doubt you 
+have store of thieves; notwithstanding, I fear 
+not my ring. 
+
+Phi. Let us leave here, gentlemen. 109 
+
+Post. Sir, with all my heart. This worthy 
+signior, I thank him, makes no stranger of 
+me; we are familiar at first. 
+
+
+os . . 
+
+
+Act I, Sc. V] 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+1179 
+
+
+lach. With five times so much conversa- 
+tion, I should get ground of your fair mis- 
+tress, make her go back, even to the yielding, 
+had I admittance and opportunity to friend. 
+
+Post. No, no. 
+
+Iach, 1 dare thereupon pawn the moiety of 
+my estate to your ring; which, in my opinion, 
+o’ervalues it something: but I make my wager 
+rather against your confidence than her repu- 
+tation: and, to bar your offence herein too, | 
+durst attempt it against any lady in the world. 
+
+_ Post. You are a great deal abused in too 
+bold a persuasion; and I doubt not you sus- 
+tain what you ‘re worthy of by your attempt. 
+
+Tach. What's that? 
+
+Post. A repulse: though your attempt, as 
+you call it, deserve more; a punishment too. 
+
+Phi. Gentlemen, enough of this: it came in 
+too suddenly; let it die as it was born, and, | 
+
+\pray you, be better acquainted. 
+» Tach. Would I had put my estate and my 
+neighbour's, on the approbation of what | 
+have spoke! - 3 
+
+Post. What lady would you choose to as- 
+sail? 
+
+Tach. Yours; whom in constancy you think 
+stands so safe. I will lay you ten thousand 
+ducats to your ring, that, commend me to the 
+court where your lady is, with no more ad- 
+
+vantage than the opportunity of a second 
+conference, and | will bring from thence that 
+honour of hers which you imagine so re- 
+served, 
+
+Post. I will wage against your gold, gold 
+to it: my ring I hold dear as my finger; ‘tis 
+part of it. 
+
+Tach. You are afraid, and therein the 
+wiser. If you buy ladies’ flesh at a million a 
+dram, you cannot preserve it from tainting: 
+
+but I see you have some religion in you, that 
+you fear. 
+
+Post. This is but a custom in your tongue; 
+you bear a graver purpose, I hope. 151 
+
+Tach. 1 am the master of my speeches, and 
+would undergo what's spoken, I swear. 
+
+Post. Will you? I shall but lend my dia- 
+mond till your return: let there be covenants 
+drawn between’s: my mistress exceeds in 
+goodness the hugeness of your unworthy 
+thinking: I dare you to this match: here's 
+my ring. 
+
+Phi. I will have it no lay. 159 
+
+lach. By the gods, it is one. If I bring 
+you no sufficient testimony that I have en- 
+joyed the dearest bodily part of your mistress, 
+my ten thousand ducats are yours; so is your 
+diamond too: if I come off, and leave her in 
+such honour as you have trust in, she your 
+jewel, this your jewel, and my guld are 
+
+
+ees 
+
+
+yours: provided I have your commendation 
+for my more free entertainment. 
+
+Post. | embrace these conditions; let us 
+have articles betwixt us. Only, thus far you 
+shall answer: if you make your voyage upon 
+her and give me directly to understand you 
+have prevailed, I am no further your enemy; 
+she is not worth our debate: if she remain 
+unseduced, you not making it appear other- 
+wise, for your ill opinion and the assault you 
+have made to her chastity you shall answer 
+me with your sword. 
+
+Tach. Your hand; a covenant: we will 
+have these things set down by lawful counsel, 
+and straight away for Britain, lest the bar- 
+gain should catch celd and starve: I will 
+fetch my gold and have our two wagers re- 
+corded, 18] 
+
+Post. Agreed. 
+
+[Exeunit Posthumus and Iachimo. 
+
+
+French. Will this hold, think you? 
+
+
+Phi. Signior lachimo will not from it. 
+Pray, let us follow ‘em. [Exeunt. 
+Scene V. Britain. A room in Cymbeline’s 
+
+
+palace. 
+Enter QueEEN, Ladies, and CoRNELIUs. 
+
+
+Queen. Whiles yet the dew’s on ground, 
+gather those flowers; 
+
+Make haste: who has the note of them? 
+First Lady. I, madam. 
+Queen. Dispatch. [Exeunt Ladies. 
+
+Now, master doctor, have you brought those 
+
+drugs? 
+Cor. Pleaseth your highness, ay: here they 
+are, madam: [Presenting a small box, 
+
+But I beseech your grace, without offence,— 
+
+My conscience bids me ask—wherefore you 
+
+have 
+
+Commanded of me these most poisonous com- 
+
+pounds, 
+
+Which are the movers of a languishing death; 
+
+But though slow, deadly? 
+
+
+Queen. I wonder, doctor, 10 
+
+Thou ask’st me such a question. Have I not 
+been 
+
+Thy pupil long? Hast thou not learn’d me 
+
+
+ow 
+
+To make perfumes? distil? preserve? yea, so 
+
+That our great king himself doth woo me oft 
+
+For my confections? Having thus far pro- 
+ceeded,— 
+
+Unless thou 
+meet 
+
+That I did amplify my judgement in 
+
+Other conclusions? I will try the forces 
+
+Of these thy compounds on such creatures as 
+
+We count not worth the hanging, but none 
+human, 
+
+
+think’st me devilish—is t not 
+
+
+1180 
+
+
+‘To try the vigour of them and apply 
+Allayments to their act, and by them gather 
+Their several virtues and effects. 
+
+Cor. Your highness 
+Shall from this practice but make hard your 
+
+heart: 
+
+Besides, the seeing these effects will be 
+both noisome and infectious. 
+
+
+Queen. O, content thee. 
+
+
+Enter PIsANio. 
+
+
+[Aside] Here comes a flattering rascal; upon 
+him 
+Will I first work: he's for his master, 
+And enemy to my son. How now, Pisanio! 
+Doctor, your service for this time is ended; 
+Take your own way. 
+Cor. [Aside] I do suspect you, madam; 
+But you shall do no harm. 
+Queen. [To Pisanio] Hark thee, a word. 
+Cor. [Aside] I do not like her. She doth 
+think she has 
+Strange lingering poisons: I do not know her 
+spirit, 
+And will not trust one of her malice with 
+A drug of such damn’d nature. Those she 
+
+
+has 
+Will stupefy and dull the sense awhile; 
+Which first, perchance, she'll prove on cats 
+and dogs, 
+Then afterward up higher: but there is 
+No danger in what show of death it makes, 40 
+More than the locking-up the spirits a time, 
+To be more fresh, reviving. She is fool'd 
+With a most false effect; and I the truer, 
+So to be false with her. 
+Queen. No further service, doctor, 
+Until I send for thee. 
+Cor. I humbly take my leave. [Exit. 
+Queen. Weeps she still, say’st thou? Dost 
+thou think in time 
+She will not quench and let instructions enter 
+Where folly now possesses? Do thou work: 
+When thou shalt bring me word she loves my 
+
+
+son, 
+
+I'll tell thee on the instant thou art then 50 
+
+As great as is thy master, greater, for 
+
+His fortunes all tie speechless and his name 
+
+Is at last gasp: return he cannot, nor 
+
+Continue where he is: to shift his being 
+
+Is to exchange one misery with another, 
+
+And every day that comes comes to decay 
+
+A day's work in him. What shalt thou ex- 
+pect, 
+
+To be depender on a thing that leans, 
+
+Who cannot be new built, nor has no friends, 
+
+So muchas but to prop him? [The Queen 
+
+drops the box: Pisanio takes it up.] Thou 
+
+takest up 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. Vi 
+
+
+Thou know’'st not what; 
+labour: 
+It is a thing I made, which hath the king 
+Five times redeem'’d from death:‘I do not 
+know : 
+What is more cordial. Nay, I prithee, take 
+it; 
+It is an earnest of a further good 
+That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how 
+The case stands with her; do't as from thy- 
+self. 
+Think what a chance thou changest on, but 
+think 
+Thou hast thy mistress still, to boot, my son, 
+Who shall take notice of thee: I'll move the 
+king 70° 
+To any shape of thy preferment such 
+As thou It desire; and then myself, I chiefly, 
+That set thee on to this desert, am bound 
+To load thy merit richly. Call my women: 
+Think on my words. [Exit Pisanio. 
+A sly and constant knave, 
+Not to be shaked; the agent for his master 
+And the remembrancer of her to hold 
+The spa to her lord. I have given him 
+at 
+Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her 
+Of liegers for her sweet, and which sh 
+after, ’ 
+Except she bend her humour, shall be as 
+sured 
+To taste of too. 
+Re-enter PisANIo and Ladies. 
+« So, so: well done, well done: 
+The violets, cowslips, and the primroses, 
+Bear to my closet. Fare thee well, Pisanio; 
+Think on my words. 
+[Exeunt Queen and Ladies. 
+Pis. And shall do: : 
+But when to my good lord I prove untrue, 
+I'll choke myself: there's all I ll do for you. 
+
+
+[Exit, 
+
+
+but take it for thy 
+6] 
+
+
+Scene VI. The same. Another room in the 
+palace. 
+Enter IMOGEN. 
+Imo. A father cruel, and a_ step-dame 
+
+
+false; 
+A foolish suitor to a wedded lady, \ 
+That hath her husband banish'd;—O, tha 
+husband! 
+My supreme crown of grief! and those re- 
+peated 
+Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stol'n, 
+As ee two brothers, happy! but most miser- 
+able 
+Ts the desire that's glorious: blest be those, 
+How mean soe’er, that have their honest wills, 
+
+
+Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? | Thus raps you? 
+
+
+Fie! 
+Enter PisANIo and JAcHIMo. 
+
+
+Pis. Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome, 
+Comes from my lord with letters. 
+Tach. Change you, madam? 11 
+The worthy Leonatus is in safety 
+And greets your highness dearly. 
+[Presents a letter. 
+Imo. 
+
+
+Thanks, good sir: 
+You're kindly welcome. 
+
+Tach. |-1side] All of her that is out of 
+door most rich! 
+
+If she be furnish’d with a mind so rare, 
+She is alone the Arabian bird, and | 
+
+Have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend! 
+Arm me, audacity, from head to foot! 
+
+‘Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight; 20 
+Rather, directly fly. 
+
+Imo. [Reads] ‘He is one of the noblest 
+note, to whose kindnesses | am most infinitely 
+tied. Reflect upon him accordingly, as you 
+value your trust— LEONATUS.’ 
+So far I read aloud: 
+
+But even the very middle of my heart 
+
+Is warm’d by the rest, and takes it thankfully. 
+You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I 
+
+Have words to bid you, and shall find it so 30 
+Tn all that I can do. 
+
+
+Tach. Thanks, fairest lady. 
+What, are men mad? Hath nature given 
+them eyes 
+
+
+To see this vaulted arch, and the rich crop 
+Of sea end land, which can distinguish ‘twixt 
+The fiery orbs above and the twinn’d stones 
+Upon the number’d beach? and can we not 
+Partition make with spectacles so precious 
+"Twixt fair and foul? 
+
+Imo. What makes your admiration? 
+
+Tach. It cannot be i’ the eye, for apes and 
+
+monkeys 
+*Twixt two such shes would chatter this way 
+and 40 
+Contemn with mows the other; nor i the 
+judgement, 
+For idiots in this case of favour would 
+Be wisely definite; nor i’ the appetite; 
+Sluttery to such neat excellence opposed 
+Should make desire vomit emptiness, 
+Not so allured to feed. 
+
+Imo. What is the matter, trow? 
+
+Tach. The cloyed will, 
+That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub 
+Both fill’d and running, ravening first the 
+
+lamb, 
+Longs after for the garbage. 
+Trao. What, dear sir, 50 
+
+
+CYMBELINE , 
+
+
+1181 
+
+
+. 
+= 
+
+
+Are you well? 
+lach. Thanks, madam; well. 
+
+
+[To Pisanio] 
+Beseech you, sir, desire 
+My man’s abode where I did leave him: he 
+Is strange and peevish. 
+nibs. I was going, sir, 
+
+
+To give him welcome. [Exit. 
+Imo. Continues well my lord? His health, 
+beseech you? 
+Tach. Well, madam. 
+Imo. Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he 
+
+
+is. 
+
+Iach. Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger 
+
+~ there 
+So merry and’so gameson: he is call’d 60 
+The Briton reveller. 
+
+Imo. When he was here, 
+
+He did incline to sadness, and oft-times 
+Not knowing why. 
+
+Tach. I never saw him sad. 
+There is a Frenchman his companion, one 
+An eminent monsieur, that, it seems, much 
+
+loves re 
+A Gallian girl at home; he furnaces 
+The thick sighs from him, whiles the jolly 
+
+
+Briton— 
+
+Your lord, | mean—laughs from’s free lungs, 
+cries “O, 
+
+Can my sides hold, to think that man, who 
+knows 
+
+
+By history, report, or his own proof, 70 
+What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose 
+But must be, will his free hours languish for 
+Assured bondage >’ 
+Imo. Will my lord say so? 
+Tach. Ay, madam, with his eyes in flood 
+with laughter: 
+It is a recreation to be by 
+And hear him mock the Frenchman. 
+heavens know, 
+Some men are much to blame. 
+Imo. Not he, I hope. 
+Tach. Not he: but yet heaven's bounty to- 
+wards him might 
+Be used more thankfully. 
+much; 
+In you, which I account his beyond all talents, 
+Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound 8} 
+To pity too. 
+Imo. What do you pity, sir? 
+lacii. Two creatures heartily. 
+Ime. Am I one, sir? 
+You look on me: what wreck discern you in 
+
+
+But, 
+
+
+In himself, "tis 
+
+
+me 
+Deserves your pity? 
+Tach. Lamentable! What, 
+
+
+To hide me from the radiant sun and solace 
+I’ the dungeon by a snuff? 
+
+
+1182 
+
+
+CYMBELINE. 
+
+
+Imo. 
+Deliver with more openness your answers 
+
+
+I pray you, sir, 
+
+
+To my demands. Why do you pity me? 
+lach, That others do— 
+I was about to say—enjoy your But 
+It is an office of the gods to venge it, 
+Not mine to speak on't. 
+Imo. You do seem to know 
+Something of me, or what concerns me: pray 
+you,— 
+Since doubting things go ill often hurts more 
+Than to be sure they do; for certainties 
+Either are past remedies, or, timely knowing, 
+The remedy then born—discover to me 
+What both you spur and stop. 
+
+
+90 
+
+
+Tach. Had I this cheek 99 
+To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose 
+touch, 
+Whose every touch, would force the feeler’s 
+soul 
+
+
+To the oath of loyalty; this object, which 
+
+Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye, 
+
+Fixing it only here; should I, damn’d then, 
+
+Slaver with lips as common as the stairs 
+
+That mount the capitol; join gripes with 
+hands 
+
+Made hard with hourly falsehood—falsehood, 
+
+
+as 
+
+With labour; then by-peeping in an eye 
+Base and unlustrous as the smoky light 
+That's fed with stinking tallow; it were fit 
+That all the plagues of hell should at one 
+
+
+time 
+Encounter such revolt. 
+Imo. My lord, I fear, 
+Has forgot Britain. 
+Tach. And himself. Not I, 
+
+
+Inclined to this intelligence, pronounce 
+The beggary of his change; but ‘tis your 
+
+
+graces 
+That from my mutest conscience to my 
+tongue 
+Charms this report out. 
+Imo. Let me hear no more. 
+
+
+Iach. O dearest soul! 
+strike my heart 
+With pity, that doth make me sick. A lady 
+So fair, and fasten’d to an empery, 120 
+Would make the great’st king double,—to be 
+
+partner'd 
+With tomboys hired with that self exhibition 
+ich your own coffers yield! with diseased 
+ventures 
+That play with all infirmities for gold 
+Which rottenness can lend nature! 
+boil’d stuff 
+As well might poison poison! Be revenged; 
+Or she that bore you was no queen, and you 
+Recoil from your great stock. 
+
+
+your cause doth 
+
+
+such 
+
+
+Imo. Revenged! 
+How should I be revenged? If this be 
+true,— 
+
+
+As I have such a heart that both mine ears 
+Must not in haste abuse—if it be true, 
+How should I be revenged? i 
+Tach. Should he make me 
+Live, like Diana's priest, betwixt cold sheets, 
+While he is vaulting variable ramps, ’ 
+In your despite, upon your purse? 
+it. 
+I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure, 
+More noble than that runagate to your bed, 
+And will continue fast to your affection, 
+Still close as sure. 
+
+
+Revenge 
+
+
+Imo. What, ho, Pisanio! 
+Tach. Let me my service tender on your 
+lips. 
+Imo. Away! I do condemn mine ears that 
+have 141 
+So long attended thee. If thou wert hon 
+ourable, 3 
+Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue, 
+not 
+For such an end thou seek’st,—as base as 
+strange 
+
+
+Thou wrong’st a gentleman, who is as far 
+From thy report as thou from honour, and 
+Solicit’st here a lady that disdains q 
+Thee and the devil alike. What ho, Pisanio! 
+The king my father shall be made acquainted 
+Of thy assault: if he shall think it ft, 150 
+A saucy stranger in his court to mart 
+As in a Romish stew and to expound 
+His beastly. mind to us, he hath a court 
+He little cares for and a daughter who 
+He not respects at all. What, ho, Pisanio! 
+Tach. O happy Leonatus! I may say: 
+The credit that thy lady hath of thee 
+Deserves thy trust, and thy most perfect good- 
+hess i. 
+Her assured credit. Blessed live you long! 
+A lady to the worthiest sir that ever 160 
+Country call’d his! and you his mistress, only 
+For the most worthiest fit! Give me your 
+pardon. 
+I have spoke this, to know if your affiance _ 
+Were deeply rooted; and shall make your 
+lord, 
+That which he is, new o'er: and he is one 
+The truest manner'd; such a holy witch 
+That he enchants societies into him; 
+Half all men’s hearts are his. : 
+Imo. You make amends. 
+Tach. He sits "mongst men like a descended 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+god: ‘ 
+He hath a kind of honour sets him off, 170 
+More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry 
+Most mighty princess, that I have adventured — 
+
+
+Bee acy 
+_ Act Il, Sc. I] 
+
+
+aN eS ct eT crt 
+
+
+To try your taking of a false report; which 
+hath 
+
+Honour'd with confirmation your great judge- 
+- ment 
+
+
+In the election of a sir so rare, 
+
+
+Which you know cannot ere: the love I bear 
+him 
+
+
+Made me to fan you thus, but the gods made 
+
+
+of 
+
+
+you, 
+Unlike all others, chaffless. Pray, your par- 
+don. 
+Imo. All’s well, sir: take my power i’ the 
+court for yours. 
+Tach. My humble thanks. I had almost 
+forgot 780 
+To entreat your grace but in a small request, 
+And yet of moment too, for it concerns 
+Your lord; myself and other noble friends 
+
+
+Are partners in the business. 
+
+
+Imo. Pray, what is ‘t? 
+
+
+* Iach. Some dozen Romans of us and your 
+
+
+~ lord— 
+
+The best feather of our wing—have mingled 
+sums 
+
+To buy a present for the emperor; 
+
+Which I, the factor for the rest, have done 
+
+
+In France: ‘tis plate of rare device, and 
+
+
+jewels 
+Of rich and exquisite form; 
+great; ~ 
+And I am something curious, being strange, 
+To have them in safe stowage: may it please 
+you 
+To take them in protection? 
+Imo. Willingly ; 
+And -:pawn mine honour for their safety: since 
+My lord hath interest in them, | will keep 
+them 
+In my bedchamber. 
+Tach, They are in a trunk, 
+Attended by my men: I will make bold 
+To send them to you, only for this night; 
+I must aboard to-morrow. 
+
+
+Imo. 
+Tach. Yes, 1 beseech; 
+word 
+
+By lengthening my return. From Gallia 
+I cross’d the seas on purpose and on promise 
+To see your grace. 
+
+Imo. I thank you for your pains: 
+But not away to-morrow! 
+
+Tach. O, I must, madam: 
+
+
+their values 
+
+
+O, no, no. 
+or I shall short my 
+
+
+_ Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please 
+
+
+To greet your lord with writing, do't to- 
+night: ae , 
+I have outstood my time; which is material 
+
+
+_ To the tender of our present. 
+
+
+Imo. I will write. 
+
+
+- Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept, 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+Ds amt 
+
+
+1183 
+
+
+And truly yielded you. You're very wel- 
+
+
+come. [Exeunt. 
+ACT IL. 
+Scene [. Britain. Before Cymbeline’s 
+palace. 
+
+
+Enter CLOTEN and two Lords. 
+Clo. Was there ever man had such luck! 
+
+
+when I kissed the jack, upon an up-cast to be 
+hit away! I had a hundred pound on't: and 
+then a whoreson jackanapes must take me up 
+for swearing; as if I borrowed mine oaths of 
+him and might not spend them at my pleasure. 
+
+First Lord. What got he by that? You 
+have broke his pate with your bowl. 
+
+Sec. Lord. [Aside] If his wit had been 
+like him that broke it, it would have run all 
+out. 10 
+
+Clo. When a gentleman is disposed te 
+swear, it is not for any standers-by to curtail 
+his oaths, ha? 
+
+Sec. Lord. No, my lord; [Aside] nor 
+crop the ears of them. 
+
+Clo. Whoreson dog! I give him satisfac- 
+tion? Would he had been one of my rank! 
+: a Lord. [Aside] To have smelt like a 
+ool. 
+
+Clo. 1 am not vexed more at any thing im 
+the earth: a pox on’t! I had rather not be 
+so noble as I am; they dare not fight with, 
+me, because of the queen my mother: every 
+Jack-slave hath his bellyful of fighting, and ! 
+must go up and down like a cock that no- 
+body can match. 
+
+Sec. Lord. [Aside] You are cock and 
+capon too; and you crow, cock, with you 
+comb on. 
+
+Clo. Sayest thou? 
+
+Sec. Lord. It is not fit your lordship should 
+undertake every companion that you give of- 
+fence to. 
+
+Clo. No, I know that: but it is fit I should 
+commit offence to my inferiors. 
+
+Sec. Lord. Ay, it is fit for your lordship 
+only. 
+
+Clo. Why, so I say. 
+
+First Lord. Did you hear of a stranger 
+that’s come to court to-night? 
+
+Clo. A stranger, and I not know on‘t? 
+
+Sec. Lord. [Aside] He’s a strange fellow 
+himself, and knows it not. 
+
+First Lord. There's an Italian come; and, 
+
+
+‘tis thought, one of Leonatus’ friends. 4} 
+Clo. Leonatus! a banish'd rascal; and 
+he’s another, whatsoever he be. Who told 
+
+
+you of this stranger? 
+First Lord. One of your lordship’s pages. 
+Clo. Is it fit I went to look upon him? i» 
+there no derogation in 't? 
+
+
+1184 
+
+
+Sec. Lord. You cannot derogate, my lord. 
+
+Clo. Not easily, I think. 49 
+
+Sec. Lord. [Aside] You are a_ foo] 
+granted; therefore your issues, being foolish, 
+do not derogate. 
+
+Clo. Come, I'll go see this Italian: what I 
+have lost to-day at bowls I ‘Il win to-night of 
+him. Come, go. 
+
+Sec. Lord. I'll attend your lordship. 
+
+[Exeunt Cloten and First Lord. 
+That such a crafty devil as is his mother 
+Should yield the world this ass! a woman 
+that 
+Bears all down with her brain; and this her 
+son 
+Cannot take two from twenty, for his heart, 60 
+And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess, 
+Thou divine Imogen, what thou endurest, 
+Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern’d, 
+A mother hourly coining plots, a wooer 
+More hateful than the foul expulsion is 
+Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act 
+Of the divorce he'Id make! The heavens 
+hold firm 
+The walls of thy dear honour, keep unshak'd 
+That temple, thy fair mind, that thou mayst 
+
+
+stand, 
+To enjoy thy banish’d lord and this great 
+land! [Exit. 
+Scene II. Imogen's bedchamber in Cymbe- 
+
+
+line’s palace: a trunk in one corner of it. 
+
+
+IMocEN in bed, reading; a Lady attending. 
+
+
+Imo. Who's there? my woman Helen? 
+Lady. Please you, madam. 
+Imo. What hour is it? 
+
+Lady. Almost midnight, madam. 
+
+
+Imo. I have read three hours then: mine 
+eyes are weak: 
+Fold down the leaf where I have left: to bed: 
+Take not away the taper, leave it burning; 
+And if thou canst awake by four o' the 
+
+
+clock, 
+I prithee, call me. Sleep hath seized me 
+wholly. [Exit Lady. 
+
+
+To your protection I commend me, gods. 
+
+From fairies and the tempters of the night 
+
+Guard me, beseech ye. 10 
+[Sleeps.: Iachimo comes from the trunk. 
+
+Tach. The crickets sing, and man’s o’er- 
+
+labour’d sense 
+
+Renairs itself by rest. Our Tarquin thus 
+
+Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken’d 
+
+The chastity he wounded. Cytherea, 
+
+How bravely thou becomest thy bed, fresh 
+lily, 
+
+And whiter than the sheets! That I might 
+touch! 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+[Act II, Sc. HI 
+
+
+But kiss; one kiss! Rubies unparagon’'d, 
+
+
+How dearly they do't! ‘Tis her breathing 
+that f 
+
+Perfumes the chamber thus: the flame o’ the 
+taper 
+
+
+Bows bey her, and would under-peep her 
+lids, 
+
+To see the enclosed lights, now canopied 21 
+
+Under these windows, white and azure laced 
+
+With blue of heaven’s own tinct. But my 
+design, 
+
+To note the chamber: I will write all down: 
+
+Such and such pictures; there the window; 
+such 
+
+The adornment of her bed; the arras; figures, 
+
+Why, such and such; and the contents o’ the 
+story. 
+
+Ah, but some natural notes about her body, 
+
+Above ten thousand meaner moveables 
+
+Would testify, to enrich mine inventory. 30 
+
+O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her! 
+
+And be her sense but as a monument, : 
+
+Thus in a chapel lying! Come off, come 
+off: [Taking off her bracelet. 
+
+As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard! 
+
+"Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly, 
+
+
+9 | As strongly as the conscience does within, 
+
+
+To the madding of her lord. On her left 
+breast 
+
+A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops 
+
+I the bottom of a cowslip: here's a voucher, 
+
+Stronger than ever law could make: this 
+
+
+secret 
+
+Will force him think I have pick'd the lock 
+and ta’en 
+
+The treasure of her honour. No more. To 
+what end? 
+
+
+Why should I write this down, that's riveted, 
+Screw'd to my memory? She hath been 
+reading late 
+The tale of Tereus; here the leaf’s turn’d 
+down 
+Where Philomel gave up. I have enough: .. 
+To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it. 
+Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that 
+dawning 
+May bare the raven’s eye! I lodge in fear; 
+Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here..50_ 
+[Clock strikes. 
+One, two, three: time, time! f > 
+[Goes into the trunk. The-scene closes. 
+Scene III. An ante-chamber adjoining 
+Imogen's apartments. 
+Enter CLoTEN and Lords. 
+
+First Lord. Your lordship is the most 
+patient man in loss, the most coldest that 
+ever turned up ace. 
+
+Clo. It would make any man cold to lose. 
+
+
+_. 
+| , 
+
+
+“Act Ul, Se. HI] 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+1185 
+
+
+First Lord. But not every man patient 
+after the noble temper of your lordship. You 
+are most hot and furious when you win. 
+
+Clo. Winning will put any man into cour- 
+age. If I could get this foolish Imogen, | 
+should have gold enough. It’s almost morn- 
+ing, is ‘t not? 
+
+First Lord. Day, my lord. 11 
+
+Clo. I would this music would come: I am 
+advised to give her music o° mornings; they 
+say it will penetrate. 
+
+
+Enter Musicians. 
+
+
+Come on; tune: if you can penetrate her with 
+your fingering, so; we'll try with tongue too: 
+if none will do, let her remain; but I'll never 
+give o'er. First, a very excellent good-con- 
+ceited thing; after, a wonderful sweet air, 
+with admirable rich words to it: and then let 
+
+
+her consider. 20 
+
+
+n 
+
+
+Sone. 
+
+
+Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, 
+And Phebus ‘gins arise, 
+His steeds to water at those springs 
+On chaliced flowers that lies; 
+And winking Mary-buds begin 
+To ope their golden eyes: 
+With every thing that pretty is, 
+My lady sweet, arise: 
+Arise, arise. 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+Clo. So, get you gone. If this penetrate, I 
+will consider your music. the better: if it do 
+not, it is a vice in her ears, which horse-hairs 
+and calves’-guts, nor the voice of unpaved 
+eunuch to boot, can never amend, 
+
+[Exeunt Musicians. 
+
+Sec. Lord. Here comes the king. 
+
+Clo. I am glad I was up so late; for 
+that’s the reason I was up so early: he can- 
+not choose but take this service 1 have done 
+
+
+fatherly. 
+Enter CYMBELINE and QUEEN. 
+
+
+Good morrow to your majesty and to my 
+
+gracious mother. 4) 
+
+Cym. Attend you here the door of our 
+stern daughter ? 
+Will she not forth? 
+
+Clo. I have assailed her with music, but 
+she vouchsafes no notice. 
+
+Cym. The exile of her minion is too new; 
+She hath not yet forgot him: some more time 
+
+- Must wear the print of his remembrance out, 
+And then she’s yours. 
+
+Queen. You are most bound to the king, 
+Who lets go by no vantages that may 50 
+Prefer you to his daughter. Frame yourself 
+To orderly soliciting, and be friended 
+
+~ With aptmess of the season; make denials 
+
+
+Increase your services; so seem as if 
+You were inspired to do those duties which 
+You tender to her; that you in all obey her, 
+
+
+Save when command to your dismission 
+tends, 
+And therein you are senseless. 
+Clo. Senseless! not so. 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+
+
+Mess. So like you, sir, ambassadors from 
+
+
+Rome; 
+The one is Caius Lucius. 
+Cym. A worthy fellow, 60 
+
+
+Albeit he comes on angry. purpose now; 
+
+But that’s no fault of his: we must receive 
+him 
+
+According to the honour of his sender; 
+
+And towards himself, his goodness forespent 
+on us, 
+
+We must extend our notice. Our dear son, 
+
+When you have given good morning to your 
+mistress, 
+
+Attend the queen and us; we shall have need 
+
+To employ you towards this Roman. Come, 
+our queen. [Exeunt all but Cloten. 
+
+Clo. If she be up, I'll speak with her; if 
+
+not, 
+
+Let her lie still and dream. [Knocks] By 
+your leave, ho! 70 
+
+I know her women are about her: what 
+
+If I do line one of their hands? "Tis gold 
+
+Which buys admittance; oft it doth; yea, and 
+makes 
+
+Diana’s rangers false themselves, yield up 
+
+Their deer to the stand o' the stealer; and 
+‘tis gold 
+
+Which makes the true man kill'd and saves 
+the thief; 
+
+Nay, sometimes hangs both thief and true 
+man: what 
+
+Can it not do and undo? I will make 
+
+One of her women lawyer to me, for 
+
+I yet not understand the case myself. 
+
+[Knocks] By your leave. 
+
+
+Enter a Lady. 
+
+
+Lady. Who's there that knocks? 
+
+Clo. A gentleman, 
+
+Lady, No more? 
+
+Clo. Yes, and a gentlewoman’s son. 
+
+Lady. That's more 
+Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours, 
+Can justly boast of. What's your lordship’s 
+
+pleasure ? 
+
+Clo. Your lady's person: is she ready? 
+
+Ladv. Ay, 
+To keep her chamber. 
+
+Clo. There is gold for you; 
+
+
+Sell me your good revort. 
+
+
+80 
+
+
+1186 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+[Aer Il, Sc. IV 
+
+
+Lady. How! my good name? or to report 
+
+
+of you 
+What I shall think is good?—The princess]! 
+Enter IMocEN. 
+
+
+Clo. Good morrow, fairest: sister, your 
+sweet hand. [Exit Lady. 
+Imo. Good morrow, sir. You lay out too 
+much pains 
+For purchasing but trouble: the thanks I give 
+Is telling you that I am poor of thanks 
+And scarce can spare them. 
+Clo. Suill, I swear I love you. 
+Imo. If you but said so, "twere as deep 
+with me: 
+{fF you swear still, your recompense is still 
+That I regard it not. 
+Clo. This is no answer. 
+Imo. But that you shall not say I yield 
+
+
+being silent, 
+1 would not speak. I pray you, spare me: 
+faith, 100 
+
+
+I shall unfold equal discourtesy 
+To your best kindness: one of your great 
+knowing 
+Should learn, being taught, forbearance. 
+Clo. To leave you in your madness, "twere 
+my sin: 
+I will not. 
+Imo. Fools are not mad folks. 
+Clo. Do you call me fool? 
+Imo. As I am mad, I do: 
+If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad; 
+That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir, 
+You put me to forget a lady's manners, 110 
+By being so verbal: and learn now, for all, 
+That J, which know my heart, do here pro- 
+nounce, 
+By the very truth of it, I care not for you, 
+And am so near the lack of charity— 
+To accuse myself—I hate you; which ! had 
+
+
+rather 
+You felt than make ’t my boast. 
+Clo. You sin against 
+
+
+Obedience, which you owe your father. For 
+
+The contract you pretend with that base 
+wretch, 
+
+One bred of alms and foster’d with cold 
+
+; dishes, 
+
+_ With scraps o’ the court, it is no contract, 
+none: 
+
+And though it be allow'd in meaner parties— 
+
+Yet who than he more mean?—to knit their 
+souls, 
+
+On whom there is no more dependency 
+
+But brats and beggary, in self-figured knot; 
+
+Yet you are curb’d from that enlargement by 
+
+The consequence o' the crown, and must not 
+soil 
+
+
+The precious note of it with a base slave, 
+A hilding for a livery, a squire’s cloth, 
+A pantler, not so eminent. 
+
+Imo. Profane fellow! 
+Wert thou the son of Jupiter and no more 130 
+But what thou art besides, thou wert too base _ 
+To be his groom: thou wert dignified enough, 
+Even to the point of envy, if ‘twere made 
+Comparative for your virtues, to be styled 
+The under-hangman of his kingdom, and 
+
+hated { 
+For being preferr’d so well. 
+Clo, The south-fog rot him! 
+Imo. He never can meet more mischance 
+than come 
+To be but named of thee. His meanest gar- 
+ment, 3 
+That ever hath but clipp’d his body, is dearer 
+In my respect than all the hairs above thee, 
+Were they all made such men. How now, — 
+Pisanio! 
+Enter Pisanio, 
+
+
+Clo. ‘His garment!’ Now the devil— 
+Imo. To Dorothy my woman hie thee pres-_ 
+ently— 
+Clo. ‘His garment!” 
+Imo. I am sprited with a fool, © 
+Frighted, and anger'd worse: go bid my 
+woman 
+Search for a jewel that too casually 
+Hath left mine arm: it was thy master's: 
+‘shrew me, 
+If I would lose it for a revenue 
+Of any king's in Europe. I do think 
+I saw 't this morning: confident I am 
+Last night ‘twas on mine arm; I kiss’d it: 
+
+
+I hope it be not gone to tell my lord 
+That I kiss aught but he. 
+
+
+150. 
+
+
+Pis, "Twill not be lost. 
+Imo. I hope so: go and search. 
+
+[Exit Pisanio. 
+Clo. You have abused me: 
+
+
+‘His meanest garment!’ a 
+Imo. Ay, I said so, sir: 
+If you will make ’t an action, call witness tot. _ 
+Clo. I will inform your father. 
+Imo. Your mother too: 
+She’s my good lady, and will conceive, I 
+hope, 
+But the worst of me. So, I leave you, sir, 
+To the worst of discontent. [Exté. | 
+Clo. I'll be revenged: 160 
+‘His meanest garment!’ Well. [Exit. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Rome. Philario’s house. 
+
+
+Enter PostHUMUS and PHILARIO. 
+
+
+Post. Fear it not, sir: I would I were so 
+sure 
+
+
+i: 
+
+
+met 
+
+
+Act Il, Se. IV] 
+
+
+Veer ek pati B if 
+, 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+™ 
+1187 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+To win the king as I am bold her honour 
+Will remain hers. 
+Phi. | What means do you make to him? 
+Post. Not any, but abide the change of 
+time, 
+Quake in the present winter’s state and wish 
+That warmer days would come: in_ these 
+sear'd hopes, 
+I barely gratify your love; they failing, 
+I must die much your debtor. 
+Phi. Your very goodness and your com- 
+
+
+pany 
+O’erpays all I can do. By this, your king 10 
+Hath heard of great Augustus: Caius Lucius 
+Will do’s commission throughly: and | think 
+He ‘ll grant the tribute, send the arrearages, 
+Or look upon our Romans, whose remem- 
+
+
+brance 
+Is yet fresh in their grief. 
+Post. I do believe, 
+
+
+Statist though I am none, nor like to be, 
+
+
+~ __ That this will prove a war; and you shall hear 
+
+
+The legions now in Gallia sooner landed 
+
+In our not-fearing Britain than have tidings 
+
+Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen 
+
+Are men more order’d than when Julius 
+Cesar 
+
+Smiled at their lack of skill, but found their 
+courage 
+
+Worthy his frowning at: their discipline, 
+
+Now mingled with their courages, will make 
+known 
+
+To their approvers they are people such 
+
+That mend upon the world. 
+
+
+i Enter JacHimo. 
+
+
+’ Phi. See! Iachimo! 
+Post. The swiftest harts have posted you by 
+
+
+and; 
+And winds of all the corners kiss’d your sails, 
+To make your vessel nimble. 
+
+Phi. Welcome, sir. 
+
+
+Post. I hope the briefness of your answer 
+
+
+made 
+The speediness of your return. 
+Tach. Your lady 
+
+
+Is one of the fairest that I have look’d upon. 
+Post. And therewithal the best; or let her 
+beauty 
+Look through a casement to allure false hearts 
+And be false with them. 
+Tach. Here are letters for you. 
+Post. Their tenour good, | trust. 
+Tach. Tis very like. 
+Phi. Was Caius Lucius in the Britain court 
+When you were there? 
+
+
+Tach. He was expected then, 
+But not approach’d. 
+Post. All is well yet. 39 
+
+
+Sparkles this stone as it was wont? or is ’t not 
+Too dull for your good wearing > 
+Tach. If I had lost it, 
+I should have lost the worth of it in gold. 
+I'll make a journey twice as far, to enjoy 
+A second night of such sweet shortness which 
+Was mine in Britain, for the ring is won. 
+Post. The stone's too hard to come by. 
+
+
+Tach. Not a whit, 
+Your-lady being so easy. 
+Post. Make not, sir, 
+
+
+Your loss your sport: I hope you know that we 
+Must not continue friends. 
+
+Tach. Good sir, we must, 
+If you keep covenant. Had | not brought 50 
+The knowledge of your mistress home, | grant 
+We were to question further: but I now 
+Profess myself the winner of her honour, 
+Together with your ring; and not the wronger 
+Of her or you, having proceeded but 
+By both your wills. 
+
+Post. If you can make ’t apparent 
+That you have tasted her in bed, my hand 
+And ring is yours; if not, the foul opinion 
+You had of her pure honour gains or loses 59 
+Your sword or mine, or masterless leaves both 
+To who shall find them. 
+
+Tach. Sir, my circumstances, 
+Being so near the truth as | will mzke them, 
+Must first induce you to believe: whose 
+
+strength 
+I will confirm with oath; which, | doubt not, 
+You "ll give me leave to spare, when you shall 
+find 
+You need it not. 
+
+Post. Proceed. 
+
+lach. First, her bedchamber,— 
+Where, I confess, I slept not, but profess 
+Had that was well worth watching—it was 
+
+hang’d 
+With tapestry of silk and silver; the story 
+Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman, 70 
+And Cydnus swell’d above the banks, or for 
+The press of boats or pride: a piece of work 
+So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive 
+In workmanship and value; which I wonder'd 
+Could be so rarely and exactly wrought, 
+Since the true life on ’t was— 
+
+
+Post, This is true; 
+And this you might have heard of here, by 
+me, 
+Or by some other. 
+
+
+Tach. More particulars 
+Must justify my knowledge. 
+
+
+Post. So they must, 
+Or do your honour injury. 
+Tach. The chimney 80 
+
+
+Is south the chamber, and the chimney-piece 
+Chaste Dian bathing: never saw I figures 
+
+
+1188 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+[Acr II, Sc. V 
+
+
+So likely to report themselves: the cutter 
+Was as another nature, dumb; outwent her, 
+Motion and breath left out. 
+
+ost. This is a thing 
+Which you might for relation likewise reap, 
+Being, as it is, much spoke of. 
+
+Tach. The roof o’ the chamber 
+
+With golden cherubins is fretted: her and- 
+irons— 
+
+I had forgot them—were two winking Cupids 
+
+Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely 90 
+
+Depending on their brands. 
+
+Post. This is her honour! 
+
+Let it be granted you have seen all this—and 
+praise 
+
+Be given to your remembrance—the descrip- 
+tion 
+
+Of what is in her chamber nothing saves 
+
+The wager you have laid. 
+
+Tach. Then, if you can, 
+
+. [Showing the bracelet. 
+Be pale: I beg but leave to air this jewel; 
+see! 
+And now ‘tis up again: it must be married 
+To that your diamond;- I'll keep them. 
+
+Post. Jove! 
+Once more let me behold it: is it that 
+Which I left with her? 
+
+Tach. Sir—I thank her—that: 1.00 
+She stripp’d it from her arm; I see her yet; 
+Her pretty action did outsell her gift, 
+
+And yet enrich’d it too: she gave it me, and 
+
+
+said 
+She prized it once. 
+Post. May be she pluck’d it off 
+To send it me. 
+Tach. She writes so to you, doth she? 
+Post. O, no, no, no! ‘tis true. Here, take 
+this too; [Gives the ring. 
+
+
+It is a basilisk unto mine eye, 
+
+Kills me to look ont. Let there be no honour 
+
+Where there is beauty; truth, where sem- 
+blance; love, 
+
+Where there's another man: the vows of 
+
+
+women 110 
+Of no more’ bondage be, to where they are 
+made, 
+Than they are to their virtues; which is noth- 
+ing. 
+O, above measure false! 
+Phi. Have patience, sir, 
+
+
+And take your ring again; ‘tis not yet won: 
+It may be probable she lost it; or 
+Who knows if one of her women, being cor- 
+
+
+rupted, 
+Hath stol’n it from her? 
+Post. Very true; 
+
+
+And so, I hope, he came by ’t. Back my ring: 
+Render to me some corporal sign about her, 
+
+
+More evident than this; for this was stolen. 
+Tach. By Jupiter, I had it from her‘arm. 
+Post. Hark you, he swears; by Jupiter he 
+
+swears. 
+
+"Tis true:—nay. keep the ring—'tis true: I am 
+
+sure 
+
+She would not lose it: her attendants are . 
+
+All sworn and honourable:—they induced to 
+
+steal it! 
+
+And by a stranger !—No, he hath enjoy’d her: 
+
+The cognizance of her incontinency 
+
+Is this: she hath bought the name of whore 
+
+thus dearly. 
+
+
+‘There, take thy hire; and all the fiends of hell 
+
+
+Divide themselves between you! 
+
+Phi. Sir, be patient: 130 
+This is not strong enough to be believed 
+Of one persuaded well of — 
+
+
+Post. Never talk ont; 
+She hath been colted by him. 
+Tach, If you seek 
+
+
+For further satisfying, under her breast— 
+Worthy the pressing—lies a mole, right proud 
+Of that most delicate lodging: by my life, 
+I kiss’d it; and it gave me present hunger. 
+To feed again, though full. You do remem- 
+
+
+ber 
+This stain upon her? 
+Post Ay, and it doth confirm 
+
+
+Another stain, as big as hell can hold, 140 
+Were there no more but it. 
+Tach. Will you hear more? 
+
+
+Post. Spare your arithmetic: never count 
+
+
+the turns; 
+Once, and a million! 
+Tach. I'll be sworn— 
+Post. No swearing, 
+
+
+If you will swear you have not done't, you 
+
+
+lie; 
+And I will kill thee, if thou dost deny 
+Thou ’st made me cuckold. 
+Tach. I'll deny nothing. 
+Post. O, that I had her here, to tear her 
+limb-meal ! 
+I will go there and do't, i’ the court, before 
+Her father. I'll do something— [Exit. 
+Phi. Quite besides 149 
+The government of patience! You have won: 
+Let’s follow him, and pervert the present 
+wrath 
+He hath against himself. 
+Tach, With all my heart. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene V. Another room in Philario’s house. 
+Enter PostHumus. 
+Post. Is there no way for men to be but 
+
+
+women 
+We are all bastards; 
+
+
+Must be half-workers ? 
+
+
+And that most venerable man which I 
+
+
+Act III, Se. 1] 
+
+
+- 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+1189 
+
+
+Did call my father, was I know not where 
+
+When I was stamp’d; some coiner with his 
+tools 
+
+Made me a counterfeit: yet my mother seem’d 
+
+The Dian of that time: so doth my wife 
+
+The nonpareil of this. O, vengeance, ven- 
+geance! 
+
+Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain’d 
+
+And pray'd me oft forbearance; did it with 10 
+
+A pudency so rosy the sweet view on’t 
+
+Might well have warm’d old Saturn; that I 
+thought her 
+
+As chaste as unsunn'd snow. O, all the devils! 
+
+This yellow lachimo, in an hour,—was t 
+not ?— 
+
+Or less,—at first?—perchance he spoke not, 
+but, 
+
+Like all a full-acorn’d boar, a German one, 
+
+Cried ‘O!’ and mounted; found no opposition 
+
+But what he look’d for should oppose and she 
+
+
+Should from encounter guard. Could I find 
+
+
+out 
+
+The woman's part in me! 
+motion 
+
+That tends to vice in man, but I affirm 
+
+It is the woman's part: be it lying, note it, 
+
+The woman’s; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers; 
+
+Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, 
+hers; 
+
+Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, dis- 
+dain, 
+
+Nice longing, slanders, mutability, 
+
+All faults that may be named, nay that hell 
+knows, 
+
+Why, hers, in part or all; but rather, all; 
+
+For even to vice 
+
+They are not constant, but are changing still 
+
+One vice, but of a minute old, for one 
+
+Not half so old as that. I'll write against 
+them, 
+
+Detest them, curse them: yet ‘tis greater skill 
+
+In a true hate, to pray they have their will: 
+
+The very devils cannot plague them better. 
+
+
+For there's no 
+
+
+[ Exit. 
+ACT Il. 
+
+Scene I. Britain. A hall in Cymbeline’s 
+palace. 
+
+
+Enter in stale, CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN, 
+and Lords at one door, and at another, 
+Caius Lucius and Attendants. 
+
+Cym. Now say, what would Augustus 
+Cesar with us? 
+
+Luc. When Julius Cesar, whose remem- 
+brance yet 
+
+
+Lives in men’s eyes and will to ears and 
+
+
+tongues 
+Be theme and hearing ever, was in this Britain 
+
+
+And conquer'd it, Cassibelan, thine uncle,— 
+Famous in Cesar’s praises, no whit less 
+
+Than in his feasts deserving it—for him 
+
+And his succession granted Rome a tribute, 
+Yearly three thousand pounds, which by these 
+
+
+lately 
+Is left untender’d. 
+Queen. And, to kill the marvel, 10 
+Shall be so ever. 
+Clo. There be many Cesars, 
+
+
+Ere such another Julius. Britain is 
+A world by itself; and we will nothing pay 
+For wearing our own noses. 
+
+Queen. That opportunity 
+
+Which then they had to take from’s, to re- 
+sume 
+
+We have again. Remember, sir, my liege, 
+
+The kings your ancestors, together with 
+
+The natural bravery of your isle, which stands 
+
+As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in 
+
+With rocks unscaleable and roaring waters, 20 
+
+With sands that will not bear your enemies’ 
+boats, 
+
+But suck them up to the topmast. A kind of 
+conquest 
+
+Cesar made here; but made not here his brag 
+
+Of ‘Came’ and ‘saw’ and ‘overcame:’ with 
+shame— 
+
+The first that ever touchd him—he was car- 
+ried 
+
+From off our coast, twice beaten; and his 
+shipping— 
+
+Poor ignorant baubles!—on our terrible seas, 
+
+Like egg-shells moved upon their surges, 
+crack'd 
+
+As easily ‘gainst our rocks: for joy whereof 
+
+The famed Cassibelan, who was once at 
+point— 
+
+O giclot fortune! —to master Cesar 's sword, 31 
+
+Made Lud’s town with rejoicing fires bright 
+
+And Britons strut with courage. 
+
+Clo. Come, there's no more tribute to be 
+paid: our kingdom is stronger than it was at 
+that time; and, as I said, there is no moe such 
+Cesars: other of them may have crook’d 
+noses, but to owe such straight arms, none. 
+
+Cym. Son, let your mother end. 39 
+
+Clo. We have yet many among us can 
+gripe as hard as Cassibelan: I do not say I 
+am one; but I have a‘hand. Why tribute? 
+why should we pay tribute? If Cesar can 
+hide the sun from us with a blanket, or put 
+the moon in his pocket, we will pay him 
+tribute for light; else, sir, no more tribute, 
+pray you now. 
+
+Cym. You must know, 
+
+Till the injurious Romans did extort 
+This tribute from us, we were free: Cesar’s 
+ambition, 
+
+
+1190 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+[Acr III, Se. I 
+
+
+a ee ee ee 
+
+
+Which swell'd so much that it did almost 
+stretch 
+
+The sides 0’ the world, against all colour here 
+
+Did put the yoke upon 's; which to shake off 
+
+Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon 
+
+Ourselves to be. 
+Clo. and Lords. We do. 
+Cym. Say, then, to Cesar, 
+Our ancestor was that Mulmutius which 
+Ordain’d our laws, whose use the sword of 
+Cesar 
+
+Hath toe much mangled; whose repair and 
+franchise 
+
+Shall, by the power we hold, be our good 
+deed, 
+
+Though Rome be therefore angry. Mulmutius 
+made our laws, 
+
+Who was the first of Britain which did put 60 
+
+His brows within a golden crown and call'd 
+
+Himself a king. 
+
+Luce. I am sorry, Cymbeline, 
+
+That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar— 
+
+Cesar, that hath more kings his servants than 
+
+Thyself domestic officers—thine enemy: 
+
+Receive it from me, then: war and confusion 
+
+In Caesar's name pronounce I ‘gainst thee: 
+look 
+
+For fury not to be resisted. Thus defied, 
+
+I thank thee for myself. 
+
+Cym. Thou art welcome, Caius. 
+Thy Cesar knighted me; my youth I spent 70 
+Much under him; of him I gather'’d honour; 
+Which he to seek of me again, perforce, 
+Behoves me keep at utterance. I am perfect 
+That the Pannonians and Dalmatians for 
+Their liberties are now in arms; a precedent 
+
+
+Which not to read would show the Britons 
+
+
+cold: 
+So Cesar shall not find them. 
+Lue. Let proof speak. 
+
+
+Clo. His majesty bids you welcome. Make 
+pastime with us a day or two, or longer: if 
+you seek us afterwards in other terms, you 
+shall find us in our salt-water girdle: if you 
+beat us out of it, it is yours; if you fall in 
+the adventure, our crows shall fare the better 
+for you; and there's an end. 
+
+Luc. So, sir. 
+
+Cym. I know your master’s pleasure and 
+
+he mine: 
+
+All the remain is ‘Welcome!’ [Exeunt. 
+Scene II. Another room in the palace. 
+Enter Pisanio, with a letter. 
+
+Pis. How! of adultery? 
+
+you not 
+What monster's her accuser? Leonatus! 
+
+
+O master! what a strange infection 
+Is fall’n into thy ear! What false Italian, 
+
+
+Wherefore write 
+
+
+As poisonous-tongued as handed, hath pre- 
+vail'd ‘ 
+
+On thy too ready hearing? Disloyal! No: 
+
+She's punish’d for her truth, and undergoes, 
+
+More goddess-like than wife-like, such as- 
+saults 
+
+As would take in some virtue. O my master! 
+
+Thy mind to her is now as low as were 10 
+
+Thy fortunes. How! that I should murder 
+her > 
+
+Upon the love and truth and vows which I 
+
+Have made to thy command? I, her? her 
+blood ? 
+
+If it be so to do good service, never 
+
+Let me be counted serviceable. How look I, 
+
+That I should seem to lack humanity 
+
+So much as this fact comes to? [Reading] 
+‘Do't: the letter 
+
+That I have sent her, by her own command 
+
+
+Shall give thee opportunity... ©O damn'd 
+paper! rss 
+
+Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless 
+bauble, 
+
+
+Art thou a feodary for this act, and look’st 
+So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes. 
+I am ignorant in what I am commanded. 
+
+
+Enter IMocEN. 
+
+
+Imo. How now, Pisanio! 
+Pis. Madam, here is a letter from my lord. 
+Imo. Who? thy lord? that is my lord 
+Leonatus! 
+O, learn’d indeed were that astronomer 
+That knew the stars as I his characters; 
+He ‘ld lay the future open. You good gods, 
+Let what is here contain’d relish of love, 36 
+Of my lord's health, of his content, yet not 
+That we two are asunder; let that grieve him: 
+Some griefs are med’cinable; that is one of 
+them, 
+For it doth physic love: of his content, 
+All et in that! Good wax, thy leave. Blest 
+e 
+You bees that make these locks of counsel! 
+Lovers 
+And men in dangerous bonds pray not alike: 
+Though forfeiters you cast in prison, ‘yet 
+You clasp young Cupid's tables. Good news, 
+gods! 39 
+[Reads] ‘Justice, and your father’s wrath, 
+should he take me in his dominion, could not 
+be so cruel to me, as you O, the dearest of 
+creatures, would even renew me with your 
+eyes. Take notice that I am in Cambria, at 
+Milford-Haven: what your own love will out 
+of this advise you, follow. So he wishes you 
+all happiness, that remains loyal to his vow, 
+and your, increasing in love, 
+Leonatus PostHUMUS,’ 
+
+
+ae 
+Act Til, Sc. I] 
+Hear’st thou, 
+
+
+O, for a horse with wings! 
+t Pisanio? 
+He is at Milford-Haven: read, and tell me 
+How far ‘tis thither. If one of mean affairs 
+_ May plod it in a week, why may not I 
+_ Glide thither in a day? Then, true Pisanio,— 
+_ Who long’st, like me, to see thy lord; who 
+| long’st,— 
+O, let me bate,—but not like me—yet long’st, 
+But in a fainter kind:—O, not like me; 
+For as "s beyond beyond—say, and speak 
+thick; 
+Love's counsellor should fill the bores of 
+hearing, 
+To the smothering of the sense—how far it is 
+To this same blessed Milford: and by the 
+| way 
+Tell me how Wales was made so happy as 
+To inherit such a haven: but first of all, 
+How we may steal from hence, and for the 
+
+
+~__ gap 
+
+That we shall make in time, from our hence- 
+going 
+
+d our return, to excuse: but first, how get 
+hence: 
+
+
+Why should excuse be born or e’er begot? 
+We'll talk of that hereafter. Prithee, speak, 
+‘How many score of miles may we well ride 
+"Twixt hour and hour? 
+Pis. One score ‘twixt sun and sun, 
+Madam, 's enough for you: [Aside] and too 
+much too. 71 
+Imo. Why, one that rode to's execution, 
+man, 
+Could never go so slow: I have heard of rid- 
+ing wagers, 
+Where horses have been nimbler than the 
+s 
+That run i’ the clock’s behalf. 
+foolery: 
+Go bid my woman feign a sickness; say 
+She ‘ll home to her father: and provide me 
+presently 
+A riding-suit, no costlier than would fit 
+‘A franklin’s housewife. 
+Pis. Madan, you ‘re best consider. 
+_ Imo. | see before me, man: nor here, nor 
+here, 80 
+Nor what ensues, but have a fog in them, 
+That I cannot look through. Away, I prithee; 
+Do as I bid thee: there's no more to say; 
+
+
+Accessible is none but Milford way. [Exeunt. 
+Scene III. 
+
+
+But this is 
+
+
+Wales: a mountainous country 
+with a cave. 
+
+
+Enter, from the cave, BELaRius; GUuIDERIUs, 
+and Aryiracus following. 
+
+
+Bel. A goodly day not to keep house, with 
+such 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+Se SS SS eee 
+
+
+1191 
+
+
+Whose roof 's as low as ours! Stoop, boys; 
+
+
+this gate 
+
+Instructs you how to adore the heavens and 
+bows you 
+
+To a morning's holy office: the gates of 
+monarchs 
+
+
+Are arch’d so high that giants may jet through 
+And keep their impious turbans on, without 
+Good morrow to the sun. Hail, thou fair 
+heaven! 
+We house i’ the rock, yet use thee not so 
+hardly 
+As prouder livers do. 
+Gui. Hail, heaven! 
+An. Hail, heaven! 
+Bel. Now for our mountain sport: up to 
+yond hill; 
+Your legs are young; I'll tread these flats. 
+Consider, 
+When you above perceive me like a crow, 
+That it is place which lessens and sets of: 
+And you may then revolve what tales I have 
+told you 
+OF courts, of princes, of the tricks in war: 
+This service is not service, so being done, 
+But being so allow’d: to apprehend thus, 
+Draws us a profit from all things we see; 
+And often, to our comfort, shall we find 
+The sharded beetle in a safer hold 
+Than is the full-wing'd eagle. O, this life 
+Is nobler than attending for a check, 
+Richer than doing nothing for a bauble, 
+Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk: 
+Such gain the cap of him that makes ‘em 
+fine, 
+Yet keeps his book uncross'd: no life to ours. 
+Gui. Out of your proof you speak: we, 
+poor unfledged, 
+Have never wing’d from view o’ the nest, nor 
+know not 
+What air’s from home. Haply this life is 
+best, 
+If quiet life be best; sweeter to you 30 
+That have a sharper known; well correspond- 
+ing 
+With your stiff age: but unto us it is 
+A cell of ignorance; travelling a-bed; 
+A prison for a debtor, that not dares 
+To stride a limit. 
+An, What should we speak of 
+When we are old as you? when we shall 
+hear 
+The rain and wind beat dark December, how. 
+In this our pinching cave, shall we discours¢ 
+The freezing hours away? We have seen 
+nothing; 
+We are beastly, subtle as the fox for prey, 40 
+Like warlike as the wolf for what we eat; 
+Our valour is to chase what flies; our cage 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+1192 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+[Acr III, Sc. IV 
+
+
+We make a quire, as doth the prison’d bird, 
+And sing our bondage freely. 
+Bel. How you speak! 
+
+Did you but know the city’s usuries 
+
+And felt them knowingly; the art o’ the court, 
+
+As hard to leave as keep; whose top to climb 
+
+Is certain falling, or so slippery that 
+
+The fear'’s as bad as falling; the toil o' the 
+war, 
+
+A pain that only seems to seek out danger 50 
+
+I’ the name of fame and honour; which dies 
+i the search, 
+
+And hath as oft a slanderous epitaph 
+
+As record of fair act; nay, many times, 
+
+
+Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's 
+worse, 
+
+Must court’sy at the censure:—O boys, this 
+story 
+
+
+The world may read in me: my _ body’s 
+mark'd 
+With Roman swords, and my report was once 
+First with the best of note: Cymbeline loved 
+me, 
+And when a soldier was the theme, my name 
+Was not far off: then was I as a tree 60 
+Whose boughs did bend with fruit; but in 
+one night, 
+A storm of robbery, call it what you will, 
+Shock down my mellow hangings, nay, my 
+leaves, 
+And left me bare to weather. 
+Cui. Uncertain favour! 
+Bel. My fault being nothing—as I have 
+told you oft— 
+But that two villains, whose false oaths pre- 
+vail'd 
+Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbe- 
+line 
+{ was confederate with the Romans: so 
+Follow’d my banishment, and this twenty 
+years 
+This rock and these demesnes have been my 
+world; 
+Where I have lived at honest freedom, paid 
+More pious debts to heaven than in all 
+The fore-end of my time. But up to the 
+mountains! 
+This is not hunters’ language: he that strikes 
+The venison first shall be the lord o’ the 
+feast; 
+To him the other two shall minister; 
+And we will fear no poison, which attends 
+In place of greater state. I'll meet you in 
+the valleys. 
+[Exeunt Guiderius and Arviragus. 
+How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature! 
+These boys know little they are sons to the 
+king; 80 
+Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive. 
+
+
+and though 
+
+
+They think they are mine; 
+train’d up thus meanly 
+I’ the cave wherein they bow, their thoughts 
+do hit 
+The roofs of palaces, and nature prompts — 
+them 
+In simple and low things to prince it much 
+Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore, 
+The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, who 
+The king his father call’d Guiderius,—Jove! 
+When on my three-foot stool I sit and tell 
+The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly 
+out ; 
+Into my story: say “Thus mine enemy fell, 91 
+And thus | set my foot on’s neck;’ even then 
+
+
+The princely blood flows in his cheek, he 
+
+
+sweats, 
+Strains his young nerves and puts himself in 
+posture ; 
+That acts my words. The younger brother, — 
+Cadwal, : 
+
+
+Once Arviragus, in as like a figure, ; 
+Strikes life into my speech and shows much 
+
+
+more 
+
+His own conceiving—Hark, the game is 
+roused | — 
+
+O Cymbeline! heaven and my conscience 
+knows ; 
+
+
+Thou didst unjustly banish me: whereon, 100 
+At three and two years old, I stole these 
+babes; 
+Thinking to bar thee of succession, as 
+Thou reft’st me of my lands. Euriphile, 
+Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for 
+their mether, } 
+And every day do honour to her grave: 
+Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan call’d, 
+They take for natural father. The game is 
+up. [Exit. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Country near Milford-Haven. 
+
+
+Enter Pisanio and IMOGEN. 3 
+
+
+Imo. Thou told’st me, when we came from 
+
+horse, the place 
+
+Was near at hand: ne'er long’d my mother 
+so 
+
+To see me first, as I have now. 
+man! 
+
+Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind 
+
+That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore 
+breaks that sigh ; 
+
+From the inward of thee? 
+thus, 
+
+Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd 
+
+Beyond self-explication: put thyself 
+
+Into a haviour of less fear, ere wildness 
+
+Vanquish my staider senses. What's thi 
+matter > 1 
+
+Why tender’st thou that paper to me, with 
+
+
+Pisanio! 
+
+
+One, but paint 
+
+
+ie ce Ata 4 
+
+
+Act III, Sc. IV] 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+1193 
+
+
+_ A look untender? If ’t be summer news, 
+Smile to't before; if winterly, thou need’st 
+But keep that countenance still. My hus- 
+band’s hand! 
+Ton drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied 
+. im, 
+And he’s at some hard point. 
+thy tongue 
+' May take off some extremity, which to read 
+Would be even mortal to me. 
+Pere kis: Please you, read; 
+And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing 
+The most disdain’d of fortune. 20 
+Imo. [Reads] ‘Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath 
+played the strumpet in my bed; the testi- 
+monies whereof lie bleeding in me. I speak 
+not out of weak surmises, but from proof as 
+strong as my grief and as certain as I expect 
+my revenge. That part thou, Pisanio, must 
+_act for me, if thy faith be not tainted with 
+“the breach of hers. Let thine own hands 
+‘take away her life: I shall give thee oppor- 
+tunity at Milford-Haven. She hath my let- 
+ter for the purpose: where, if thou fear to 
+strike and to make me certain it is done, thou 
+art the pandar to her dishonour and equally 
+to me disloyal.’ 
+Pis. What shall I need to draw my sword? 
+the paper 
+Hath cut her throat already. No, ‘tis slander, 
+Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose 
+tongue 
+Outvenoms all the worms of Nile, whose 
+breath 
+Rides-on the posting winds and doth belie 
+All corners of the world: kings, queens and 
+states, 
+Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave 
+This viperous slander enters. What cheer, 
+
+
+Speak, man: 
+
+
+madam > 4] 
+Imo. False to his bed! What is it to be 
+false? 
+
+
+To lie im watch there and to think on him? 
+To weep ‘"twixt clock and clock? if sleep 
+: charge nature, 
+
+To break it with a fearful dream of him 
+And cry myself awake? that’s false to's bed, 
+
+
+is it? 
+
+Pis. Alas, good lady! 
+
+Imo. I false! Thy conscience witness: 
+Iachimo, 
+
+
+‘Thou didst accuse him of incontinency; 49 
+Thou then look’dst like a villain; now me- 
+
+
+thinks 
+‘Thy favour’s good enough. Some jay of 
+| Italy 
+tWhose mother was her painting, hath be- 
+| tray’d him: 
+
+
+Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion; 
+
+
+R 
+(4 
+
+
+And, for I am richer than to hang by the 
+walls, 
+I must be ripp’d:—to pieces with me!—O 
+Men’s vows are women’s traitors! All good 
+seeming, 
+By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought 
+Put on for villany; not born where 't grows, 
+But worn a bait for ladies. 
+PAs: Good madam, hear me. 
+Imo. True honest men being heard, like 
+false AEneas, 60 
+Were in his time thought false, and Sinon’s 
+weeping 
+Did scandal many a holy tear, took pity 
+From most true wretchedness: so thou, Post- 
+humus, 
+Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men; 
+
+
+Goodly and gallant shall be false and per- 
+
+
+jured 
+
+From thy great fail. Come, fellow, be thou 
+honest: 
+
+Do thou thy master’s bidding: when thou 
+see'’st him, 
+
+
+A little witness my obedience: look! 
+I draw the sword myself: take it, and hit 
+The innocent mansion of my love, my heart: 
+Fear not; ‘tis empty of all things but grief: 
+Thy master is not there, who was indeed 
+The riches of it: do his bidding; strike. 
+Thou mayst be valiant in a better cause; 
+But now thou seem'st a coward. 
+
+Pis. Hence, vile instrument! 
+Thou shalt not damn my hand. 
+
+mo. Why, I must die; 
+And if I do not by thy hand, thou art 
+No servant of thy master’s. Against self- 
+
+slaughter 
+
+There is a prohibition so divine 
+That cravens my weak hand. Come, here's 
+
+
+my heart. 80 
+Something's afore’t. Soft, soft! well no 
+defence; 
+
+
+Obedient as the scabbard. What is here? 
+
+The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus, 
+
+All turn’d to heresy? Away, away, 
+
+Corrupters of my faith! you shall no more 
+
+Be stomachers to my heart. Thus may poor 
+fools 
+
+Believe false teachers: though those that are 
+betray'd 
+
+Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor 
+
+Stands in worse case of woe. 
+
+And thou, Posthumus, thou that didst set up 
+
+My disobedience ‘gainst the king my father 
+
+And make me put into contempt the suits 
+
+Of princely fellows, shalt hereafter find 
+
+It is no act of common passage, but 
+
+A strain of rareness: and I grieve myself 
+
+
+To think, when thou shalt be disedged by her 
+
+
+1194 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+ne ee 
+Wan 4 4) 
+
+
+[Ace Ill, Sc. I 
+
+
+That now thou tirest on, how the memory 
+
+Will then be pang'd by me. Prithee, dis- 
+patch: 
+
+The lamb entreats the butcher: 
+knife? 
+
+Thou art too slow to do thy master’s bidding, 
+
+When I desire it too. 
+
+Pis. O gracious lady, 101 
+Since I received command to do this business 
+I have not slept one wink. 
+
+
+where 's_ thy 
+
+
+Imo. Do't, and to bed then. 
+Pis. I'll wake mine eye-balls blind first. 
+Imo. Wherefore then 
+
+
+Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abused 
+So many miles with a pretence? this place? 
+Mine action and thine own? our horses’ 
+labour ? 
+The time inviting thee? the perturb’d court, 
+For my being absent? whereunto I never 
+Purpose return. Why hast thou gone so far, 
+To be unbent when thou hast ta’en thy stand, 
+The elected deer before thee? 
+Pis. 
+To lose so bad employment; 
+I have consider’d of a course. 
+Hear me with patience. 
+Imo. Talk thy tongue weary; speak: 
+I have heard I am a strumpet; and mine ear, 
+Therein false struck, can take no greater 
+
+
+But to win time 
+in the which 
+Good lady, 
+
+
+wound, 
+Nor tent to bottom that. But speak. 
+Pis. Then, madam, 
+
+
+I thought you would not back again. 
+
+Imo. Most like; 
+Bringing me here to kill me. 
+
+Pis. Not so, neither: 120 
+But if I were as wise as honest, then 
+My purpose would prove well. It cannot be 
+But that my master is abused: 
+Some villain, ay, and singular in his art, 
+Hath done you both this cursed injury. 
+
+Imo. Some Roman courtezan. 
+
+Pis. No, on my life. 
+I'll give but notice you are dead and send 
+
+him 
+Some bloody sign of it; for ‘tis commanded 
+I should do so: you shall be miss'd at court, 
+ze poy will well confirm it. 
+Why, good fellow, 130 
+ae ‘shall I do the while? where bide? how 
+live? 
+
+Or in my life what comfort, when I am 
+Dead to my husband? 
+
+
+Pis. If you'll back to the court— 
+Imo. No court, no father; nor no more 
+ado 
+
+
++ With that harsh, noble, simple nothing, 
+That Cloten, whose love-suit hath been to me 
+As fearful as a siege. 
+
+
+Pis. If not at court, 
+Then not in Britain must you bide. : 
+Imo. Where then? © 
+Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, 
+
+
+night, 3 
+Are they not in Britain? I’ the world’s 
+volume 140 
+
+
+Our Britain seems as of it, but not in’t; i 
+In a great pool a swan’s nest: prithee, think 
+There's livers out of Britain. 
+
+Piss I am most glad 
+You think of other place. The ambassador, — 
+Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven 
+To-morrow: now, if you could wear a mind ~ 
+Dark as your fortune is, and but disguise ; 
+That which, to appear itself, must not yet be 
+But by self-danger, you should tread a course 
+7Pretty and full of view; yea, haply, near 
+The residence of Posthumus; so nigh at least 
+That though his actions were not visible, yet 
+Report should render him hourly to your ear 
+As truly as he moves. 
+
+Imo. O, for such means! 
+Though peril to my modesty, not death on ‘ty 
+I would adventure. 
+
+Pis, Well, then, here’s the pomt: 
+You must forget to be a woman; change 
+Command into obedience: fear and nice- 
+
+ness— 
+The handmaids of all women, or, more truly, | 
+Woman it pretty self—into a waggish cour- 
+
+age; 
+Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy and 161 
+As quarrelous as the weasel; nay, you must 
+Forget that warest treasure ae your cheek, 
+Exposing it—but, O, the harder heart! 
+Alack, no remedy!—to the greedy touch 
+Of common-kissing Titan, and forget 
+Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein 
+You made great Juno angry. 
+
+Imo. Nay, be brief: 
+I see into thy end, and am almost 
+A. man already. 
+
+Pis. First, make yourself but like one. 170 
+Fore-thinking this, | have already ft— 
+‘Tis in my cloak-bag—doublet, hat, hose, al 
+That answer to them: would you in their 
+
+serving, 
+And with what imitation you can borrow 
+From youth of such a season, ‘fore noble 
+
+Lucius P 
+Present yourself, desire his service, tell him 
+Wherein you're happy,—which you'll make 
+
+him know, 
+If that his head have ear in music,—doubtless 
+With joy he will embrace you, for he’s hon- 
+
+
+ourable 
+And doubling that, most holy. Your means 
+
+
+abroad, 180 
+
+
+J 
+
+
+Beh 
+
+
+‘Act Ill, Sc. V] 
+
+
+You have me, rich; and | will never fail 
+Beginning nor supplyment. 
+Imo. Thou art all the comfort 
+_ The gods will diet me with. Prithee, away: 
+here's more to be consider'd; but well 
+even 
+All that good time will give us: this attempt 
+I am soldier to, and will abide it with 
+A prince's courage. Away, | prithee. 
+Pis. Well, madam, we must take a short 
+farewell, 
+Lest, being miss’d, I be suspected of 
+our carriage from..the court. My noble 
+mistress, 190 
+Here is a box; I had it from the queen: 
+What's in’t is precious; if you are sick at 
+sea, 
+Or stomach-qualm’d at land, a dram of this 
+Will drive away distemper. To some shade, 
+And fit you to your manhood. May the gods 
+Direct you to the best! 
+~ Imo. Amen: | thank thee. 
+[Exeunt, severally. 
+
+
+ScENE V. A room in Cymbeline’s palace. 
+
+
+Enter CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLoreN, Lucius, 
+Lords, and Attendants. 
+
+
+Cym. Thus far; and so farewell. . 
+
+Luc. Thanks, royal sir. 
+My emperor hath wrote, I must from hence; 
+And am right sorry that I must report ye 
+
+y master’s enemy. 
+
+Cym, Our subjects, sir, 
+Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself 
+To show less sovereignty than they, must 
+
+
+needs 
+Appear unkinglike. 
+Luc. So, sir; I desire of you 
+
+
+A conduct over-land to Milford-Haven. 
+Madam, all joy befal your grace! 
+ueen. And you! 
+Cym. My lords, you are appointed for that 
+office; 10 
+The due of honour in no point omit. 
+So farewell, noble Lucius. 
+Luc. Your hand, my lord. 
+Clo. Receive it friendly; but from this 
+time forth 
+I wear it as your enemy. 
+Luc. Sir, the event 
+Is yet to name the winner: fare you well. 
+Cym. Leave not the worthy Lucius, good 
+my lords, 
+Till he have cross’d the Severn. Happiness! 
+[Exeunt Lucius and Lords. 
+Queen. He goes hence frowning: but it 
+honours us 
+That we have given him cause. 
+
+
+Cle. "Tis all the better; 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+SS ae a er ee 
+
+
+1195 
+
+
+Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it. 
+Cym. Lucius hath wrote already to the 
+emperor 
+How it goes here. It fits us therefore ripely 
+Our chariots and our horsemen be in readi- 
+ness : 
+The powers that he already hath in Gallia 
+Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he 
+moves 
+His war for Britain. 
+Queen. "Tis not sleepy business; 
+But must be look'd to speedily and strongly. 
+Cym. Our expectation that it would be 
+
+
+thus 
+
+Hath made us forward, But, my gentle 
+queen, 
+
+Where is our daughter? She hath not ap- 
+pear'd 30 
+
+
+Before the Roman, nor to us hath tender’d 
+The duty of the day: she looks us like 
+A thing more made of malice than of duty: 
+We have noted it. Call her before us; for 
+We have been too slight in sufferance, 
+[Exit an Attendant. 
+Queen. Royal sir, 
+Since the exile of Posthumus, most retired 
+Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my 
+lord, 
+‘Tis time must do. Beseech your majesty, 
+Forbear sharp speeches to her: she’s a lady 
+So tender of rebukes that words are strokes 40 
+
+
+And strokes death to her. 
+Re-enter Attendant. 
+Cym. Where is she, sir? 
+
+
+Can her contempt be answer'd? 
+Alten, Please you, sir, 
+Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no 
+answer 
+That will be given to the loudest noise we 
+make. 
+Queen. My lord, when last I went to visit 
+her, 
+She pray’d me to excuse her keeping close, 
+Whereto constrain’d by her infirmity, 
+She should that duty leave unpaid to you, 
+Which daily she was bound to proffer: this 
+
+
+She wish’d me to make known; but our great 
+
+
+H Ow 
+
+
+court 50 
+Made me to blame in memory. 
+Cym. Her doors lock’d? 
+Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that which 
+I fear 
+Prove false! [ Exit. 
+Queen. Son, I say, follow the king. 
+
+
+Clo, That man of hers, Pisanio, her old 
+servant, 
+I have not seen these two days. 
+
+
+Queen. Go, look after. LExit Cloten. 
+
+
+1196 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+: / 
+
+
+[Act Ill, Sc. V 
+
+
+Pisanio, thou that stand’st so for Posthumus! 
+He hath a drug of mine; I pray his absence 
+Proceed by swallowing that, for he believes 
+It is a thing most precious. But for her, 
+
+Where is she gone? Haply, despair ae 
+
+
+seized her, 
+Or, wing’d with fervour of her love, she’s 
+flown 
+
+
+To her desired Posthumus: gone she is 
+To death or to dishonour; and my end 
+Can make good use of either: she being down, 
+I have the placing of the British crown. 
+Re-enter CLOTEN. 
+
+How now, my son! 
+
+Clo. ’Tis certain she is fled. 
+Go in and cheer the king: he rages; none 
+Dare come about him. 
+
+Queen. [Aside] All the better: may 
+This night forestall him of the coming day! 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+Clo. I love and hate her: for she's fair 
+and royal, 
+And that she hath all courtly parts more ex- 
+quisite 
+
+
+Than lady, ladies, woman; from every one 
+he best she hath, and she, of all com- 
+pounded, 
+Outsells them all; I love her therefore: but 
+L\isdaining me and throwing favours on 
+The low Posthumus slanders so her judge- 
+ment 
+That what’s else rare is choked; and in that 
+point 
+I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed, 
+To be revenged upon her. For when fools 79 
+Shall— 
+Enter PIsanio. 
+
+Who is here? 
+sirrah ? 
+Ceme hither: ah, you precious pandar! 
+
+Villain, 
+
+Where is thy lady? In a word; or else 
+Thou art straightway with the fiends. 
+
+lis. O, my good lord! 
+
+Clo. Where is thy lady? or, my Jupiter,— 
+1 will not ask again. Close villain, 
+I'll have this secret from thy heart, or rip 
+Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus ? 
+From whose so many weights of baseness 
+
+
+What, are you packing, 
+
+
+cannot 
+A dram of worth be drawn. 
+Pis. Alas, my lord, 
+How can she be with him? When was she 
+miss'd ? 90 
+
+
+He is in Rome. 
+
+Clo Where is she, sir? Come nearer; 
+No further halting: satisfy me home 
+What is become of her. 
+
+
+| ment to her contempt. 
+
+
+Pis. O, my all-worthy lord! 
+
+Clo. All-worthy villain! 
+Discover where thy mistress is at once, 
+At the next word: no more of ‘worthy lord!” 
+Speak, or thy silence on the instant is 
+
+
+0 | Thy condemnation and thy death. 
+
+
+Fis. Then, sir, 
+This paper is the history of my knowledge 99 
+Touching her flight. [Presenting a letter. 
+
+Clo. Let’s see’t. I will pursue her 
+Even to Augustus’ throne. 
+
+Pis. [Aside] Or this, or perish, 
+She ’s far enough; and what he learns by this 
+May prove his travel, not her danger. 
+
+Clo. Hum! 
+
+Pis. [Aside] 1°ll write to my lord she's 
+
+dead. O Imogen, 
+Safe mayst thou wander, safe return again! 
+
+Clo. Sirrah, is this letter true? 
+
+Pis. Sir, as | think. 
+
+
+Clo. It is Posthumus’ hand: I know’t. 
+
+
+0 Sirrah, if thou wouldst not be a villain, but 
+
+
+do me true service, undergo those employ- 
+ments wherein I should have cause to use 
+thee with a serious industry, that is, what vil- 
+lany soe’er I bid thee do, to perform it di- 
+rectly and truly, I would think thee an hon- 
+est man: thou shouldst neither want my means 
+for thy relief nor my voice for thy prefer- 
+ment. 
+
+Pis. Well, my good lord. 
+
+Clo. Wilt thou serve me? for since pa- 
+tiently and constantly thou hast stuck to the 
+bare fortune of that beggar Posthumus, thou 
+canst not, in the*course of gratitude, but be a 
+diligent follower of mine: wilt thou serve me? 
+
+Pis. Sir, I will. 
+
+Clo. Give me thy hand; here's my purse. 
+Hast any of thy late master’s garments in thy 
+possession > 
+
+Pis. I have, my lord, at my lodging, the 
+same suit he wore when he took leave of my 
+lady and mistress. E 
+
+Clo. The first service thou dost me, fetch 
+that suit hither: let it be thy first service; go. 
+
+Pis. 1 shall, my lord. [Exit. 
+
+Clo. Meet thee at Milford-Haven!—I 
+forgot to ask him one thing: I ‘Il remember 't 
+anon:—even there, thou villain Posthumus, 
+will I kill thee. I would these garments were 
+come. She said upon a time—the bitterness 
+of it I now belch from my heart—that, she 
+held the very garment of Posthumus in more 
+respect than my noble and natural person, 
+together with the adornment of my qualities. 
+With that suit upon my back, will I ravish 
+her: first kill him, and in her eyes; there shall 
+she see my valour, which will then be a tor- 
+He on the ground. 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+Act III, Sc. VI]! 
+
+
+my speech of insultment ended on his dead 
+body, and when my lust hath dined,—which, 
+as I say, to vex her I will execute in the 
+clothes that she so praised,—to the court I ‘Il 
+knock her back, foot her home again. She 
+hath despised me rejoicingly, and I'll be 
+merry in my revenge. 150 
+
+
+Re-enter PIsaNio, with the clothes. 
+
+
+Be those the garments ? 
+Pis. Ay, my noble lord. 
+Clo. How long is't since she went to 
+Milford-Haven ? 
+Pis. She can scarce be there yet. 
+Clo. Bring this apparel to my chamber; 
+that is the second thing that I have com- 
+manded thee: the third is, that thou wilt be a 
+voluntary mute to my design. Be but duteous, 
+and true preferment shall tender itself to 
+thee. My revenge is now at Milford: would 
+_I had wings to follow it! Come, and be true. 
+[Exit. 
+Pis. Thou bid'st me to my loss: for true to 
+thee 
+Were to prove false, which I will never be, 
+To him that is most true. To Milford go, 
+
+
+And find not her whom thou pursuest. Flow, 
+flow, 
+You heavenly blessings, on her! This fool's 
+speed 
+Be cross'd with slowness; labour be his 
+meed! [Exit. 
+Scene VI. Wales. Before the cave of 
+
+
+Belarius. 
+Enter IMoGEN, in boy's clothes. 
+
+
+Imo. I see a man’s life is a tedious one: 
+
+I have tried myself, and for two nights to- 
+gether 
+
+Have made the ground my bed. 
+sick, 
+
+But that my resolution helps me. Milford, 
+
+When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd 
+thee, 
+
+Thou wast within a ken: O Jove! I think 
+
+Foundations fly the wretched; such, I mean, 
+
+Where they should be relieved. Two beg- 
+gars told me 
+
+I could not miss my way: will poor folks lie, 
+
+That have afflictions on them, knowing ‘tis 10 
+
+A punishment or trial? Yes; no wonder, 
+
+When rich ones scarce tell true. To lapse in 
+fulness 
+
+
+Is sorer than to lie for need, and falsehood 
+
+
+I should be 
+
+
+Is worse in kings than beggars. My dear 
+lord! 
+
+Thou art one o' the false ones. Now I think 
+on thee, 
+
+
+My hunger 's gone; but even before, I was 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+1197 
+
+
+At point to sink for food. But what is this? 
+Here is a path tot: ‘tis some savage hold: 
+I were best not call; I dare not call: yet 
+
+
+famine, 
+
+Ere clean it o’erthrow nature, makes it 
+valiant. 
+
+Plenty and peace breeds cowards: hardness 
+ever 21 
+
+
+Of hardiness is mother. Ho! who's here? 
+
+If any thing that’s civil, speak; if savage, 
+
+Take or lend. Ho! No answer? Then 
+I ‘Il enter. 
+
+Best draw my sword; and if mine enemy 
+
+But fear the sword like me, he'll scarcely 
+look on’t. 
+
+Such a foe, good heavens! [Exit, fo the cave. 
+Enter BELarius, GuIDERIUS, and 
+
+ARVIRAGUS. 
+
+
+Bel. You, Polydore, have proved best 
+woodman and 
+Are master of the feast: Cadwal and I 
+Will play the cook and servant; ‘tis our 
+match: 
+The sweat of industry would dry and die, 3] 
+But for the end it works to. Come; our 
+stomachs 
+Will make what's homely savoury: weariness 
+Can snore upon the flint, when resty sloth 
+Finds the down pillow hard. Now peace be 
+here, 
+Poor house, that keep’st thyself! 
+Gui. I am thoroughly weary. 
+Ar. I am weak with toil, yet strong in 
+appetite. 
+Gui. There is cold meat i’ the cave: we ‘ll 
+browse on that, 
+Whilst what we have kill’d be cook’d. 
+Bel. [Looking into the cave] Stay; come 
+not in. 40 
+But that it eats our victuals, I should think 
+Here were a fairy. 
+Gui. What’s the matter, sir? 
+Bel. By Jupiter, an angel! or, if not, 
+An earthly paragon! Behold divineness 
+No elder than a boy! 
+Re-enier IMOGEN. 
+
+
+Imo. Good masters, harm me not: 
+Before I enter'd here, I call'd; and thought 
+To have begs'd or bought what I have took: 
+good troth, 
+
+I have stol’n nought, nor would not, though 
+I had found 
+
+Gold strew'd 1’ the floor. Here's money for 
+my meat: 50 
+
+I would have left it on the board so soon 
+
+As I had made my meal, and parted 
+
+With prayers for the provider. 
+
+Gui, Money, youth? 
+
+
+1198 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+Ace IV, Swl 
+
+
+Arv. All gold and silver rather turn to 
+dirt! 
+As ‘tis no better reckon’d, but of those 
+Who worship dirty gods. 
+mo. I see you're angry: 
+Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should 
+Have died had I not made it. 
+Bel. Whither bound? 
+Imo. To Milford-Haven. 
+Bel. What's your name? 60 
+Imo. Fidele, sir. I have a kinsman who 
+Is bound for Italy; he embark’d at Milford; 
+
+
+To whom being going, almost spent with 
+
+
+hunger, 
+I am fall’n in this offence. 
+Bel. Prithee, fair youth 
+Think us no churls, nor measure our good 
+minds 
+By this rude place we live in. Well en- 
+counter’d! 
+
+
+'Tis almost night: you shall have better cheer 
+Ere you depart; and thanks to stay and eat it. 
+Boys, bid him welcome. 
+
+Gui, Were you a woman, youth, 
+I should woo hard but be your groom. In 
+
+honesty, 70 
+I bid for you as I''Id buy. 
+
+Ar. I'll make t my comfort 
+He is a man; I'll love him as my brother: 
+And such a welcome as I ‘Id give to him 
+After long absence, such is yours: most wel- 
+
+come! : 
+Be sprightly, for you fall ‘mongst friends, 
+
+Imo. *"Mongst friends, 
+If brothers. [Aside] Would it had been so, 
+
+that they 
+Had been my father’s sons! then had my 
+prize 
+Been less, and so more equal ballasting 
+To thee, Posthumus. 
+Bel. He wrings at some distress. 
+
+
+Gui. Would I could free 't! 
+
+
+Ar. Or I, whate’er it be, 80 
+
+What pain it cost, what danger. Gods! 
+Bel. Hark, boys! 
+[Whispering. 
+
+
+Imo. Great men, 
+That had a court no bigger than this cave, 
+
+
+That did attend themselves and had the 
+virtue 
+
+Which their own conscience seal’d them— 
+laying by 
+
+That nothing-gift of differing multitudes— 
+
+Could not out-peer these twain. Pardon me, 
+gods! 
+
+I'ld change my sex to be companion with 
+them, 
+
+Since Leonatus's false. 
+
+Bel. It shall be so. 
+
+
+Boys, we'll go dress our hunt. Fair youth, 
+come in: 90 
+
+Discourse is heavy, fasting; when we have 
+supp’d, 
+
+
+We ll mannerly demand thee of thy story, 
+So far as thou wilt speak it. 
+Gui. Pray, draw near. 
+Ary. The night to the owl and morn to 
+the lark less welcome. 
+Imo. Thanks, sir. 
+Ary. | pray, draw near. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene VII. Rome. A public place. 
+Enter two Senators and Tribunes. 
+
+
+First Sen. This is the tenour of the em- 
+peror’s writ: 
+That since the common men are now in action 
+‘Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians, 
+And that the legions now in Gallia are 
+Full weak to undertake our wars against 
+The fall’n-off Britons, that we do incite 
+The gentry to this business. He creates 
+Lucius proconsul: and to you the tribunes, 
+For this immediate levy, he commands 
+His absolute commission. Long live Ceasar! 10 
+First Tri. Is Lucius general of the forces? 
+Sec. Sen. Ay. 
+First Tri. Remaining now in Gallia? 
+First Sen. With those legions 
+Which I have spoke of, whereunto your levy 
+Must be supplyant: the words of your com- 
+mission 
+Will tie you to the numbers and the time 
+OF their dispatch. 
+
+
+First Tri. *We will discharge our duty- 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+ACT IV. 
+Scene I, Wales: near the cave of Belarius_ 
+
+
+Enter CLOTEN. 
+
+
+Clo. I, am near to the place where they 
+should meet, if Pisanio have mapped it truly. _. 
+How fit his garments serve me! Why should 
+his mistress, who was made by him that made 
+the tailor, not be fit too? the rather—saving 
+reverence of the word—for ‘tis said a wom- 
+an’s fitness comes by fits. Therein I must 
+play the workman. I dare speak it to myself 
+—for it is not vain-glory for a man and his 
+glass to confer in his own chamber—I mean, 
+the lines of my body are as well drawn as 
+his; no less young, more strong, not beneath 
+him in fortunes, beyond him in the advantage 
+of the time, above him in birth, alike con- 
+versant in general services, and more remark- 
+able in single oppositions: yet this imperceiv- 
+erant thing loves him in my despite. What 
+mortality is! Posthumus, thy head, which 
+
+
+mow is growing upon thy shoulders, shall with- 
+
+
+in this hour be off; thy mistress enforced; thy 
+garments cut to pieces before thy face: and 
+all this done, spurn her home to her father; 
+who may haply be a little angry for my so 
+
+
+rough usage; but my mother, having power | 
+
+
+of his testiness, shall turn all into my com- 
+mendations. My horse is tied up safe: out, 
+sword, and to a sore purpose! 
+them into my hand! This is the very de- 
+scription of their meeting-place; and the fel- 
+low dares not deceive me. [Exii. 
+
+
+Scene Il. Before the cave of Belarius. 
+
+
+Enter, from the cave, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, 
+ARVIRAGUS, and IMOGEN. 
+
+
+Bel. [To Imogen] You are not well: re- 
+main here in the cave; 
+We'll come to you after hunting. 
+
+Ary. [To Imogen] Brother, stay here: 
+Are we not brothers? 
+
+Imo. So man and man should be; 
+But clay and clay differs in dignity, 
+Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick. 
+
+Gui. Go you to hunting; I'll abide with 
+
+
+Imo. So sick I am not, yet I am not well; 
+But not so citizen a wanton as 
+To seem to die ere sick: so please you, leave 
+
+
+me; 
+
+Stick to your journal course: the breach of 
+custom 
+
+Is breach of all. I am ill, but your being by 
+me 
+
+
+Cannot amend me; society is no comfort 
+
+To one not sociable: I am not very sick, 
+
+Since I can reason of it. Pray you, trust me 
+here: : 
+
+I'll rob none but myself; and let me die, 
+
+Stealing so poorly. 
+
+Gui. I love thee; I have spoke it: 
+How much the quantity, the weight as much, 
+As I do love my father. 
+
+Bel. What! how! how! 
+
+Ar. If it be sin to say so, sir, I yoke me 
+In my good brother's fault: | know not why 
+I love this youth; and I have heard you say, 
+Love's reasons without reason: the bier at 
+
+door, 
+And a demand who is 't shall die, I ‘Id say 
+“My father, not this youth.’ 
+
+Bel. [Aside] O noble strain! 
+O worthiness of nature! breed of greatness! 
+Cowards father cowards and base things sire 
+
+base: 
+Nature hath meal and bran, contempt and 
+grace. 
+
+
+I'm not their father; yet who this should be, 
+
+
+CYMBELINE ~ 
+
+
+1199 
+
+
+Doth miracle itself, loved before me. 
+
+"Tis the ninth hour o’ the morn. 
+
+Brother, farewell. 30 
+
+. I wish ye sport. 
+
+A You health. So please you, sir. 
+
+Imo. [Aside] These are kind creatures. 
+Gods, what lies I have heard! 
+
+
+| Our courtiers say all's savage but at court: 
+Fortune, put | 
+
+
+Experience, O, thou disprovest report! 
+The imperious seas breed monsters, fer the 
+dish 
+
+
+Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish. 
+
+
+|I am sick still; heart-sick. Pisanio, 
+
+
+I'll now taste of thy drug. [Swallows some. 
+
+
+Cui. I could not stir him: 
+He said he was gatle, but unfortunate; 
+Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest. 40 
+
+Ary. Thus did he answer me: yet said, 
+
+hereafter 
+I might know more. 
+Bel. To the field, to the field! 
+
+
+We'll leave you for this time: go in and rest. 
+
+Ary. We'll not be long away. 
+
+Bel. Pray, be not sick, 
+For you must be our housewife. 
+
+Imo. Well or ill, 
+
+I am bound to you. 
+Bel. And shalt be ever. 
+[Exit Imogen, to the cave. 
+This youth, howe’er distress'd, appears he 
+hath had 
+Good ancestors. 
+
+Ar. How angel-like he sings. 
+
+Gui. But his neat cookery! he cut our roots 
+In characters, 
+
+And sauced our broths, as Juno had been sick 
+And he her dieter. 
+
+Ar. Nobly he yokes 51 
+A smiling with a sigh, as if the sigh 
+Was that it was, for not being such a smile; 
+The smile mocking the sigh, that it would fly 
+From so divine a temple, to commix 
+With winds that sailors rail at. 
+
+Gui. I do note 
+That grief and patience, rooted in him both, 
+Mingle their spurs together. 
+
+An. Grow, patience! 
+And let the stinking elder, grief, untwine 
+His perishing root with the increasing vine! 
+
+Bel. It is great morning. Come, away!— 
+
+
+Who's there > 
+Enter CLOTEN. 
+
+
+Clo. I cannot find those runagates; that 
+
+
+villain 
+Hath mock’d me. I am faint. 
+Bel. ‘Those runagates!” 
+
+
+Means he not us? I partly know him: ‘tis 
+
+
+1200 
+
+
+~ CYMBELINE 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. II 
+
+
+Cloten, the son o’ the queen. I fear some 
+ambush. 
+I saw him not these many years, and yet 
+I know ‘tis he. We are held as outlaws: 
+hence! 
+Gui. He is but one: you and my brother 
+search 
+What companies are near: pray you, away; 
+Let me alone with him. 
+[Exeunt Belarius and Arviragus. 
+Clo. Soft! What are you 70 
+That fly me thus? some villain mountaineers ? 
+I have heard of such. What slave art thou? 
+Gui. A thing 
+More slavish did I ne'er than answering 
+Ay slave without a knock... } 
+Clo. Thou art a robber, 
+_ A law-breaker, a villain: yield thee, thief. 
+Gui. To who? to thee? What art thou? 
+Have not | 
+An arm as big as thine? a heart as big? 
+Thy words, I grant, are bigger, for I wear 
+not 
+My dagger in my mouth. Say what thou 
+
+
+art. 
+Why I should yield to thee? 
+Clo. Thou villain base, 80 
+
+
+Know’st me not by my clothes? 
+
+
+Cui. No, nor thy tailor, rascal, 
+Who is thy grandfather: he made those 
+clothes, 
+
+
+Which, as it seems, make thee. 
+
+
+Clo. Thou precious varlet, 
+My tailor made them not. 
+Gui. Hence, then, and thank 
+The man that gave them thee. Thou art some 
+fool; 
+I am loath to beat thee. 
+Clo, Thou injurious thief, 
+
+
+Hear but my name, and tremble. 
+Gui. What's thy name? 
+Clo. Cloten, thou villain. 
+Gui. Cloten, thou double villain, be thy 
+name, 
+I cannot tremble at it: were it Toad, or 
+Adder, Spider, 
+"Twould move me sooner. 
+Clo. To thy further fear, 
+Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know 
+I am the son to the queen. 
+
+
+Gut. I am sorry fort; not seeming 
+So worthy as thy birth. 
+Clo. Art not afeard? 
+Gui. Those that I reverence those I fear, 
+the wise: 
+At fools I laugh, not fear them. 
+Clo. Die the death: 
+
+
+When I have slain thee with my proper hand, 
+Jl] follow those that even now fled hence, 
+
+
+And on the gates of Lud’s-town set your 
+heads: 
+Yield, rustic mountaineer. 
+
+
+100 
+[Exeuni, fighting. 
+Re-enter BELARIUS and ARVIRAGUS. 
+
+
+Bel. No companies abroad? 
+Arv. None in the world: you did mis- 
+take him, sure. 
+Bel. I cannot tell: long is it since I saw 
+him, 
+But time hath nothing blurr’d those lines of 
+
+
+favour 
+Which then he wore;~ the snatches in his 
+voice, : 
+And burst of speaking, were as his: I am 
+absolute 
+‘Twas very Cloten. 
+An. In this place we left them: 
+
+
+I wish my brother make good time with him, 
+You say he is so fell. 
+Bel. Being scarce made up, 
+I mean, to man, he had not apprehension 110 
+Of roaring terrors; for the effect of judge- 
+ment 
+Is oft the cause of fear. 
+
+
+brother. 
+
+
+But, see, thy 
+
+
+Re-enter GutpERtus, with CLOTEN’s head. 
+
+
+Gui. This Cloten was a fool, an empty 
+purse; 
+There was no money in‘t: not Hercules 
+Could have knock'd out his brains, for he 
+had none: * 
+Yet I not doing this, the fool had borne 
+My head as I do his. 
+Bel. What hast thou done? 
+Gui. I am perfect what: cut off one Clo- 
+ten's head, 
+Son to the queen, after his own report; 
+Who call'd me traitor, mountaineer, 
+swore 
+With his own single hand he'ld take us in, 
+Displace our heads where—thank the gods!— 
+they grow, 
+And set them on Lud’s-town. 
+
+
+and 
+
+
+Bel. We are all undone. 
+Gui. Why, worthy father, what have we 
+to lose, 
+But that he swore to take, our lives? The 
+law 
+Protects not us: then why should we be 
+tender 
+
+
+To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us, 
+Play judge and executioner all himself, 
+For we do fear the law? What company 
+Discover you abroad? 
+
+Bel. 130 
+
+
+No single soul 
+
+
+~ Come as the gods foresay it; 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. II] 120) 
+Can we set eye on; but in all safe reason Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou 
+He must have some attendants. Though his blazon’st 
+
+humour In these two princely boys! They are as 
+Was nothing but mutation, ay, and that gentle 
+From one bad thing to worse; not frenzy, not} As zephyrs blowing below the violet, 
+Absolute madness could so far have raved Not wagging his sweet head; and yet as 
+To bring him here alone; although perhaps rough, { 
+It may be heard at court that such as we Their royal blood enchafed, as the rudest 
+Cave here, hunt here, are outlaws, and in wind, 
+
+
+time 
+May make some stronger head; 
+hearing— 
+As it is like him—might break out, and swear 
+He'ld fetch us in; yet ist not probable 141 
+To come alone, either he so undertaking, 
+Or they so suffering: then on good ground we 
+fear, 
+If we do fear this body hath a tail 
+More perilous than the head. 
+An, 
+
+
+the which he 
+
+
+Let ordinance 
+howsoe’er, 
+
+My brother hath done well. 
+
+_ Bel. I had no mind 
+
+To hunt this day: the boy Fidele’s sickness 
+Did make my way long forth. 
+
+
+Gui. With his own sword, 
+Which he did wave against my throat, I have 
+ta’en 150 
+
+
+His head from him: I'll throw't into the 
+creek 
+
+Behind our rock; and let it to the sea, 
+
+And tell the fishes he’s the queen’s son, 
+
+
+Cloten: 
+[Exit. 
+
+
+That's all I reck. 
+
+Bel. I fear ‘twill be revenged: 
+
+Would, Polydore, thou hadst not done ’t! 
+though valour 
+Becomes thee well enough. 
+
+An. Would I had done't, 
+So the revenge alone pursued me! Polydore, 
+1 Jove thee brotherly, but envy much 
+Thou hast robb'd me of this deed: I would 
+
+
+revenges, 
+That possible strength might meet, would seek 
+us through 160 
+And put us to our answer. 
+Bel. Well, ‘tis done: 
+We'll hunt no more to-day, nor seek for 
+danger 
+Where's there no profit. I prithee, to our 
+
+
+rock; 
+You and Fidele play the cooks: I "Il stay 
+Till hasty Polydore return, and bring him 
+To dinner presently. 
+Ary. . Poor sick Fidele! 
+I'll willingly to him: to gain his colour 
+I‘Id let a parish of such Clotens blood, 
+And praise myself for charity. [Exit. 
+Bel. O thou goddess, 169 
+
+
+That by the top doth take the mountain pine, 
+And make him stoop to the vale. ‘Tis 
+wonder 
+That an invisible instinct should frame them 
+To royalty unlearn’d, honour untaught, 
+Civility not seen from other, valour 
+That wildly grows in, them, but yields a crop 
+[Ag atitshadibeenveowsd Vet culliiens strange 
+What Cloten's being here to us portends, 
+Or what his death will bring us. 
+Re-enter GuIDERIUS. 
+
+Gui. Where 's my brother? 
+I have sent Cloten’s clotpoll down the stream, 
+In embassy to his mother: his body 's hostage 
+For his return. [Solemn music. 
+
+
+Bel. My ingenious instrument! 
+Hark, Polydore, it sounds! But what oc- 
+casion 
+Hath Cadwal now to give it motion? Hark! 
+Gui. Is he at home? 
+Bel. He went hence even now. 
+Gui. What does he mean? since death of 
+my dear’st mother 190 
+
+
+All solemn things 
+The mat- 
+
+
+It did not speak before. 
+Should answer solemn accidents. 
+ter? 
+Triumphs for nothing and lamenting toys 
+Is jollity for apes and grief for boys. 
+Is Cadwal mad? 
+Bel. Look, here he comes, 
+And brings the dire occasion in his arms 
+Of what we blame him for. 
+Re-enter ArviraGus, with IMOGEN, as dead, 
+bearing her in his arms. 
+
+
+An. The bird is dead 
+
+That we have made so much on. I had 
+rather 
+
+Have skipp’d from sixteen years of age to 
+
+
+sixty, 
+To have turn’d my leaping-time into a crutch, 
+Than have seen this. 
+
+Gui. O sweetest, fairest lily! 201 
+
+My brother wears thee not the one half so 
+well 
+As when they grew’st thyself. 
+
+Bel. O melancholy! 
+Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find 
+The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish 
+
+crare 
+
+
+as: 
+
+
+~ CYMBELINE 
+
+
+1202 
+
+Might easiliest harbour in? Thou blessed 
+thing! 
+
+Jove knows what man thou might’st have 
+made; but I, 
+
+
+Thou diedst, a most rare ne of melancholy. 
+How found you him? 
+
+An. Stark, as you see: 
+Thus smiling, as some fly had tickled slumber, 
+Not as death’s dart, being laugh’d at; his 
+
+
+right cheek 211 
+eposing on a cushion. 
+Gui. Where > 
+Ar, O’ the floor; 
+His arms thus leagued: I thought he slept, 
+and put 
+My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose 
+rudeness 
+
+
+Answer'd my steps too loud. 
+
+Cui. Why, he but sleeps: 
+If he be gone, he ‘ll make his grave a bed; 
+With female fairies will his tomb be haunted, 
+And worms will not come to thee. 
+
+Ary, With fairiest flowers 
+Whilst summer lasts and | live here, Fidele, 
+I'll sweeten thy sad grave: thou shalt not 
+
+
+lack 
+The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose, 
+nor 221 
+
+
+The azured harebell, like thy veins, no, nor 
+The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, 
+Out-sweeten'd not thy breath; the ruddock 
+
+would, 
+With charitable bill,—O bill, sore-shaming 
+Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers 
+lie 
+Without a monument!—bring thee all this; 
+Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers 
+are none, 
+To winter-ground thy corse. 
+
+Gui. Prithee, have done; 
+
+And do not play in wench-like words with 
+that 
+
+Which is so serious. Let us bury him, 23] 
+
+And not protract with admiration what 
+
+Is now due debt. To the grave! 
+
+Ar. Say, where shall 's lay him? 
+
+Gui. By good Euriphile, our mother. 
+
+An. Be 't so: 
+And let us, Polydore, though now our voices 
+Have got the mannish crack, sing him to the 
+
+ground, 
+As once our mother; use like note and words, 
+Save that Euriphile must be Fidele. 
+Gui. Cadwal, 
+I cannot sing: I ‘ll weep, and word it with 
+thee; 
+For notes of sorrow out of tune are worse 241 
+Than priests and fanes that lie. 
+Ary, We'll speak it, then. 
+
+
+Bel. Great griefs, I see, medicine the less; 
+
+for Cloten 
+
+Is quite forgot. He was a queen’s son, boys; 
+
+And though he came our enemy, remember 
+
+He was paid for that: though mean and 
+mighty, rotting 
+
+Together, have one dust, yet reverence, 
+
+That angel of the world, doth make distinc- 
+
+
+thon 
+Of place ‘tween high and low. Our foe was 
+princely; 249 
+fond outs you took his life, as being our 
+oe, 
+Yet bury him as a prince. 
+Gui. Pray you, fetch him hither. 
+Thersites’ body is as good as Ajax’, 
+When neither are alive. 
+An. If you'll go fetch him, 
+We 'll say our song the whilst. Brother, be- 
+gin. [Exit Belarius. 
+Gui, Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head 
+to the east; 
+My father hath a reason for ’t. 
+An, ‘Tis true. 
+Gui. Come on then, and remove him. 
+Ary. So. Begin, 
+Sone. 
+Gui. Fear no more the heat o’ the sun, 
+
+
+Nor the furious winter’s rages; 
+Thou thy worldly task hast done, 260 
+Home art gone, and ta’en thy 
+wages 
+Golden Acs and girls all must, 
+As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. 
+
+
+. Fear no more the frown o” the great; 
+Thou art past the tyrant’s stroke; 
+Care no more to clothe and eat; 
+To thee the reed is as the oak: 
+The sceptre, learning, physic, must 
+All follow this, and come to dust. 
+
+
+Gui. Fear no more the lightning-flash, 270 
+
+Ary Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone; 
+
+Gui. Fear not slander, censure rash; 
+
+Arv. Thou hast finish’d joy and moan: 
+
+Both. All lovers young, all lovers must 
+Consign to thee, and come to dust. 
+
+Gui. No exorciser harm thee! 
+
+Ary. Nor no witchcraft charm thee! 
+
+Gui. Ghost unlaid forbear thee! 
+
+Ar. Nothing ill come near thee! © 
+
+Both. Quiet consummation have; 280 
+
+
+And renowned be thy grave! 
+Re-enter Betarius, with the body of 
+CLOTEN. 
+
+
+Gui. We have done our obsequies: come, 
+lay him down. 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. II 
+
+
+b) 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. II] CYMBELINE 1203 
+: 
+_ Bel. Here's a few flowers; but "bout mid- | Where is thy head? where’s that? Ay mef 
+
+
+night, more: 
+The herbs that have on them cold dew o’ the 
+night - 
+Are strewings fitt’st for graves. 
+faces. 
+_ You were as flowers, now wither'd: even so 
+These herblets shall, which we upon you 
+strew. 
+Come on, away: apart upon our knees. 
+The ground that gave them first has them 
+again: 
+eir pleasures here are past, so is their 
+
+
+| 
+| 
+: 
+
+
+Upon their 
+
+
+pain. [Exeunt Belarius, Guiderius, 
+and Arviragus. 
+Imo. [Awaking] Yes, sir, to Milford- 
+
+
+Haven; which is the way ?>— 
+
+I thank you—By yond bush?—Pray, how 
+far thither? 
+
+’Ods pittikins! can it be six mile yet?— 
+
+T have gone all night. ‘Faith, I'll lie down 
+and sleep. 
+
+But, soft! no bedfellow!—O gods and god- 
+desses! [Seeing the body of Cloten. 
+
+These flowers are like the pleasures of the 
+world; 
+
+This bloody man, the care on't. I hope I 
+dream; 
+
+For so | thought I was a cave-keeper, 
+
+And cook to honest creatures: but ’tis not so; 
+
+"Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing, 
+
+Which the brain makes of fumes: our very 
+eyes 
+
+Are sometimes like our judgements, blind. 
+
+Good faith, 
+
+I tremble still with fear: but if there be 
+
+Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity 
+
+As a wren’s eye, fear’d gods, a part of it! 
+
+The dream’s here still: even when I wake, it 
+
+. 1s 
+
+Without me, as within me; not imagined, felt. 
+
+A headless man! The garments of Post- 
+
+| humus! 
+
+. I know the shape of ’s leg: this is his hand; 
+
+His foot Mercurial; his Martial thigh; 310 
+
+~The brawns of Hercules: but his Jovial 
+
+
+face— 
+
+
+Murder in heaven?—Hoy!—’Tis gone. Pi- 
+| sanio, 
+All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks, 
+
+
+And mime to boot, be darted on thee! Thou, 
+Conspired with that irregulous devil, Cloten, 
+Hast here cut off my lord. To write and 
+| read 
+
+Be henceforth treacherous! Damn'd Pisanio 
+Hath with his forged letters—damn'd Pi- 
+| sanio— 
+
+From this most bravest vessel of the world 
+“Struck the main-top! O Posthumus! alas, 320 
+
+
+where ’s that? 
+
+Pisanio might have kill’d thee at the heart, 
+
+And left this head on. How should this be> 
+Pisanio > 
+
+‘Tis he and Cloten: malice and lucre in them 
+
+Have laid this woe here. O, ‘tis pregnant, 
+pregnant! 
+
+} The drug he gave me, which he said was 
+precious 
+
+And cordial to me, have I not found it 
+
+Murderous to the senses? That confirms it 
+home: 
+
+This is Pisanio’s deed, and Cloten’s: O! 
+
+Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood, 
+
+That we the horrider may seem to those 33] 
+
+Which chance to find us: O, my lord, my 
+lord! [Falls on the body. 
+
+
+Enter Lucius, a Captain and other Officers, 
+and a Soothsayer. 
+
+
+Cap. To them the legions garrison'd in 
+Gallia, 
+After your will, have cross’d the sea, attend- 
+ing 
+You here at Milford-Haven with your ships: 
+They are in readiness. 
+Luc. But what from Rome? 
+Cap. The senate hath stirr'd up the con- 
+finers 
+And gentlemen of Italy, most willing spirits, 
+That promise noble service: and they come 
+Under the conduct of bold Iachimo, 340 
+Syenna’s brother. 
+Luc. When expect you them? 
+Cap. With the next benefit o’ the wind. 
+Luce This forwardness 
+Makes our hopes fair. Command our pres- 
+ent numbers 
+Be muster’d; bid the captains look to 't. Now, 
+sir, 
+What have you dream’d of late of this war’: 
+purpose > 
+Sooth. Last night the very gods show’d me 
+a vision— 
+I fast and pray’d for their intelligence—- 
+thus: 
+I saw Jove’s bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd 
+From the spongy south to this part of the 
+
+
+west, 
+There vanish’d in the sunbeams: which por- 
+tends— 350 
+
+
+Unless my sins abuse my divination— 
+Success to the Roman host. 
+Luc. 
+
+
+And never false. 
+
+
+Dream often so, 
+Soft, ho! what trunk is 
+
+
+here 
+Without his top? The ruin speaks that some- 
+time 
+
+
+1204 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+[Act IV, Sc. HI 
+
+
+It was a worthy building. How! a page! 
+Or dead, or sleeping on him? But dead 
+rather; 
+For nature doth abhor to make his bed 
+With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead. 
+Let's see the boy’s face. 
+Cap. He’s alive, my lord. 
+Luc. He'll then instruct us of this body. 
+Young one, 360 
+Inform us of thy fortunes, for it seems 
+They crave to be demanded. Who is this 
+Thou makest thy bloody pillow? Or who 
+was he 
+That, otherwise than noble nature did, 
+Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy 
+
+
+interest 
+
+In this sad wreck? How came it? Who 
+is it? 
+
+What art thou? 
+
+Imo. I am nothing: or if not, 
+
+Nothing to be were better. This was my 
+master, 
+
+A very valiant Briton and a good, 
+
+That here by mountaineers lies slain. Alas! 
+
+
+There is no more such masters: I may wander 
+From east to occident, cry out for service, 
+Try many, all good, serve truly, never 
+
+Find such another master. 
+
+
+Luc. "Lack, good youth! 
+Thou movest no less with thy complaining 
+than 
+Thy master in bleeding: say his name, good 
+friend. 
+Imo. Richard du Champ. [Aside] If | 
+do lie and do 
+
+
+No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope 
+They'll pardon it—Say you, sir? 
+Luc, Thy name? 
+Imo. Fidele, sir. 
+Luc. Thou dost approve thyself the Be 
+
+
+same: 
+
+Thy name well fits thy faith, thy faith thy 
+name. 
+
+Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not 
+say 
+
+Thou shalt be so well master’d, but, be 
+sure, 
+
+No less beloved. 
+letters, 
+
+Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner 
+
+Than thine own worth prefer thee: go with 
+me. 
+
+Imo. I'll follow, sir. But 
+
+please the gods, 
+
+I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep 
+
+As these poor pickaxes can dig; and when 
+
+With wild wood-leaves and weeds I ha’ 
+strew'd his grave. 390 
+
+And on it said a century of prayers, 
+
+
+The Roman emperor's 
+
+
+first, an‘t 
+
+
+Such as I can, twice o'er, Ill weep and 
+sigh; : 
+
+And leaving so his service, follow you, 
+
+So please you entertain me. ; 
+
+Luc. Ay, good youth; 
+And rather father thee than master thee. 
+My friends, 
+
+The boy hath taught us manly duties: let us — 
+Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can, 
+And make him with our pikes and partisans 
+A grave: come, arm him, Boy, he is pre- 
+ferr'd ; 
+By thee to us, and he shall be interr’d 401 
+As soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine 
+
+
+eyes: 
+
+Some falls are means the happier ¢o arise. 
+{Exeunt. 
+
+Scene III. A room in Cymbeline’s palace. 
+
+
+Enter CYMBELINE, Lords, PisANIo, and 
+Attendants. 
+
+
+Cym. Again; and bring me word how ‘tis - 
+with her. [Exit an Attendant. 
+A fever with the absence of her son, ; 
+A madness, of which her life’s in danger. 
+Heavens, 
+How deeply you at once do touch me! 
+gen, 
+The great part of my comfort, gone; my queen 
+Upon a desperate bed, and in a time 
+When fearful wars point at me; her son gone, 
+So needful for this present: it strikes me, past 
+The hope of comfort. But for thee, fellow, 
+Who needs must know of her departure and 
+Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from 
+
+
+Imo- | 
+
+
+thee 
+By a sharp torture. 
+Pis. Sir, my life is yours; 
+I humbly set it at your will; but, for my 
+mistress, “* 
+
+
+I nothing know where she remains, why gone, 
+Nor when she purposes return. Beseech your 
+
+
+highness, 
+Hold me your loyal servant. 
+First Lord. Good my liege, 
+
+
+The day that she was missing he was here: 
+I dare be bound he’s true and shall perform — 
+All parts of his subjection loyally. For Cloten, 
+There wants no diligence in seeking him, 2! 
+And will, no doubt, be found. 
+
+Cym. The time is troublesome. 
+[To Pisanio] We'll slip you for a season; 
+
+but our jealousy 
+
+Does yet depend. 
+
+First Lord. So please your majesty, 
+The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn, 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. IV] 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+1205 
+
+
+Are landed on your coast, with a supply 
+_ Of Roman gentlemen, by the senate sent. 
+Cym. .Now for the counsel of my son and 
+if queen! 
+I am amazed with matter. 
+First Lord. Geod my liege, 
+Your preparation can affront no less 
+Than what you hear of: come more, for more 
+you're ready: 30 
+_ The want is but to put those powers in motion 
+That long to move, 
+Cym. I thank you. Let's withdraw; 
+And meet the time as it seeks us. We fear 
+not 
+What can from Italy annoy us; but 
+We grieve at chances here. Away! 
+[Exeunt all but Pisanio. 
+Pis. I heard no letter from my master since 
+I wrote him Imogen was slain: ‘tis strange: 
+\Nor hear I from my mistress, who did promise 
+To. yield me often tidings; neither know I 
+What is betid to Cloten; but remain 40 
+Perplex'd in all. The heavens still must work. 
+Wherein I am false I am honest; not true, to 
+
+
+be true. 
+
+These present wars shall find I love my coun- 
+try, 
+
+Even to the note o’ the king, or I'll fall in 
+them. 
+
+
+All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd: 
+Fortune brings in some boats that are not 
+steer'd, [Exit. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Wales: before the cave of 
+A Belarius. 
+
+
+| Enter Bevarius, Guiperius, and 
+ARVIRAGUS. 
+
+
+Gui. The noise is round about us. 
+
+
+Bel. Let us from it. 
+_ Arv. What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to 
+| lock it 
+From action and adventure? 
+
+Gui. Nay, what hope 
+Have we in hiding us? This way, the 
+| Romans 
+
+
+Must or for Britons slay us, or receive us 
+For barbarous and unnatural revolts 
+‘During their use, and slay us after. 
+
+
+el. Sons, 
+‘We'll higher to the mountains; there secure 
+os: 
+
+
+To the king's party there ’s no going: newness 
+
+OF Cloten’s death—we being not known, not 
+
+| muster’d 10 
+
+Among the bands—may drive us to a render 
+
+Where we have lived, and so extort from’s 
+that 
+
+
+Which we have done, whose answer would be 
+death 
+Drawn on with torture. 
+Gui. This is, sir, a doubt 
+In such a time nothing becoming you, 
+Nor satisfying us. 
+Ar. It is not likely 
+That when they hear the Roman horses neigh, 
+Behold their quarter’d fires, have both their 
+eyes 
+
+And ears so cloy'd importantly as now, 
+
+That they will waste their time upon our 
+note, 
+
+To know from whence we are. 
+
+Bel. O, I am known 21 
+Of many in the army: many years, 
+
+Though Cloten then but young, you see, not 
+wore him 
+
+From my remembrance. 
+king 
+
+Hath not deserved my service nor your loves; 
+
+Who find in my exile the want of breeding, 
+
+The certainty of this hard life; aye hopeless 
+
+To have the courtesy your cradle promised, 
+
+But to be still hot summer's tanlings and 
+
+The shrinking slaves of winter. 
+
+Gui. Than be so 30 
+Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to the army: 
+I and my brother are not known; yourself 
+So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrown, 
+Cannot be question’d. 
+
+Ary, By this sun that shines, 
+I'll thither: what thing is it that I never 
+Did see man die! scarce ever look’d on blood, 
+But that of coward hares, hot goats, and 
+
+venison! 
+Never bestrid a horse, save one that had 
+A rider like myself, who ne’er wore rowel 
+Nor iron on his heel! I am ashamed 
+To look upon the holy sun, to have 
+The benefit of his blest beams, remaining 
+So long a poor unknown. 
+
+Gui. By heavens, I ‘Il go: 
+If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave, 
+I'll take the better care, but if you will not, 
+The hazard therefore duc fall on me by 
+The hands of Romans! 
+
+Ary, So say I: amen. 
+
+Bel. No reason I, since of your lives you 
+
+set 
+
+So slight a valuation, should reserve 
+
+My crack’d one to more care. Have with you, 
+boys! 
+
+If in your country wars you chance to die, 
+
+That is my bed too, lads, and there I ‘ll lie: 
+
+Lead, lead. [Aside] The time seems long; 
+their blood thinks scorn, 
+
+Till it fly out and show them princes born. 
+
+[Exeunt, 
+
+
+And, besides, the 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+1206 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. Hl 
+
+
+“ai 
+
+
+ACT V. 
+
+
+Scene I. Britain. The Roman camp. 
+
+
+Enter PostHumus, with a bloody 
+handkerchief. 
+Post. Yea, bloody cloth, I ‘Il keep thee, for 
+I wish'd 
+
+
+Thou shouldst be colour’d thus. 
+
+
+You married 
+
+
+ones, 
+
+If each of you should take this course, how 
+many 
+
+Must murder wives: much better than them- 
+selves 
+
+
+For wrying but a little! O Pisanio! 
+
+Every good servant does not all commands: 
+
+No bond but to do just ones. God! if you 
+
+Should have ta’en vengeance on my faults, I 
+never 
+
+Had lived to put on this: so had you saved 
+
+
+The noble Imogen to repent and struck 10 
+
+Me, wretch more worth your vengeance. But, 
+alack, 
+
+You snatch some hence for little faults: that's 
+love, 
+
+
+To have them fall no more: you some permit 
+
+*To second ills with ills, each elder worse, 
+
+And make them dread it, to the doers’ thrift. 
+
+But Imogen is your own: do your best wills, 
+
+And make me the blest to obey! I am brought 
+hither 
+
+Among the Italian gentry, and to fight 
+
+Against my lady's kingdom: ‘tis enough 
+
+That, Britain, I have kill’d thy mistress; 
+peace! 
+
+i'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good 
+heavens, 
+
+Hear patiently my purpose: I'll disrobe me 
+
+Of these Italian weeds and suit myself 
+
+As does a Briton peasant: so I ‘Il fight 
+
+Against the part I come with; so I'll die 
+
+For thee, O Imogen, even for whom my life 
+
+Is every breath a death; and thus, unknown, 
+
+Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril 
+
+Myself I'll dedicate. Let me make men know 
+
+More valour in me than my habits show. 30 
+
+Gods, put the strength o’ the Leonati in me! 
+
+To shame the guise o’ the world, I will begin 
+
+The fashion, less without and more within 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+
+
+Scene II. Field of batile between the 
+British and Roman camps. ~ 
+
+
+Enter, from one side, Lucius, lacHimo, and 
+the Roman Army: from the other side, 
+the British Army; LEonaTUs PosTHUMUS 
+following, like a poor soldier. They march 
+over and go out. Then enter again, in 
+skirmish, IacHimo and PostHuMus: he 
+
+
+vanquisheth and disarmeth IacHImo, and 
+then leaves him. 
+
+
+Iach. The heaviness and guilt within my 
+bosom q 
+Takes off my manhood: I have belied a lady, 
+The princess of this country, and the air ont — 
+Revengingly enfeebles me; or could this carl, 
+A very drudge of nature's, have subdued me 
+In my profession? Knighthoods and honours, 
+borne . 
+
+As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn. 
+If that thy gentry, Britain, go before F 
+This lout as he exceeds our lords, the odds ~ 
+Is that we scarce are men ana you are gods, 10 
+[Exit. 
+
+The battle continues; the Britons fly ; CYMBE- ” 
+LINE is taken: then enter, to his rescue, 
+Bevarius, GuIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS. 
+
+
+Bel. Stand, stand! We have the advantage 
+of the ground; 
+The lane is guarded: nothing routs us but 
+The villany of our fears. 
+a t Stand, stand, and fight! 
+Re-enter PostTHUMUS, and seconds the Brit- 
+ons: they rescue CYMBELINE, and exeunt. 
+Then re-enter Lucius, and JACHIMO, wiih 
+IMOGEN. q 
+Luc. Away, boy, from the troops, and say 
+thyself; 
+For friends kill 
+such 
+As war wert hoodwink'd. 
+Tach. ‘Tis their fresh supplies. 
+Luc. It is a day turn’d strangely: or be- 
+times 
+Let's re-inforce, or fly. 
+
+
+friends, and the disorder’s 
+
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene III. Another part of the field. 
+
+
+Enter PostuHumus and a British Lord. — 
+
+
+Lord. Camest thou from where they made 
+the stand! 
+Post. I did: 
+Though you, it seems, come from the fliers. — 
+ord. I did. 
+Post. No blame be to you, sir; for all was 
+lost, / 
+
+But that the heavens fought: the king himself 
+Of his wings destitute, the army broken, ‘ 
+And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying 
+Through a strait lane; the enemy full-hearted, 
+Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having 
+wor 
+More plentiful than tools to dot, struck down 
+Some mortally, some slightly touch’d, som 
+falling 
+
+
+‘Act V. Sc. Ill] 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+{207 
+
+
+Merely through fear; that the strait pass was 
+_ damm'd 
+
+
+With dead men hurt behind, and cowards liv- 
+
+
+ing 
+
+To die with lengthen’d shame. 
+
+| Lord, Where was this lane? 
+
+Post. Close by the battle ditch’d, and 
+
+wall’d with turf; 
+
+Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier, 
+
+An honest one, I warrant; who deserved 
+
+So long a breeding as his white beard came to, 
+
+In doing this for 's country: athwart the lane, 
+
+He, with two striplings—lads more like to 
+run 
+
+The country base 
+slaughter ; 
+
+With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer 
+
+Than those for preservation cased, or shame,— 
+
+ponte ie the passage; cried to those that 
+
+\ ed, 
+
+“Our Britain’s harts die flying, not our men: 
+
+To darkness fleet souls that fly backwards. 
+Stand; 
+
+Or we are Romans and will give you that 
+
+Like beasts which you shun beastly, and may 
+save, 
+
+But to look back in frown: stand, stand.’ 
+
+7 These three, 
+
+Three thousand confident, in act as many— 
+
+For three performers are the file when all 30 
+
+The rest do nothing—with this word ‘Stand, 
+stand,’ 
+
+Accommodated by the place, more charming 
+
+With their own nobleness, which could have 
+turn’d 
+
+A distaff to a lance, gilded pale looks, 
+
+Part shame, part spirit renew'd; that some, 
+turn'd coward 
+
+But by example—O, a sin in war, 
+
+Damn’d in the first beginners! —gan to look 
+
+The way that they did, and to grin like lions 
+
+Upon the pikes o’ the hunters. Then began 
+
+A stop i’ the chaser, a retire, anon 40 
+
+_ A rout, confusion thick; forthwith they fly 
+
+Chickens, the way which they stopp’d eagles; 
+slaves, 
+
+The strides they victors made: and now our 
+cowards, 
+
+Like fragments in hard voyages, became 
+
+The life o’ the need: having found the back- 
+door open 
+
+Of the unguarded hearts, heavens, how they 
+wound! 
+
+Some slain before; some dying; some their 
+friends 
+
+O’er-borne i’ the former wave: ten, chased by 
+one, 
+
+
+than to commit such 
+
+
+twenty: 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+Those that would die or ere resist are growr 
+The mortal bugs o’ the field. 
+
+Lord. This was strange chance: 
+A narrow lane, an old man, and two boys. 
+
+Post. Nay, do not wonder at it: you are 
+
+made 
+Rather to wonder at the things you hear 
+Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon ‘t, 
+And veni it for a mockery? Here is one: 
+‘Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane, 
+Preserved the Britons, was the Romans’ bane. 
+
+Lord. Nay, be not angry, sir. 
+
+Post. ‘Lack, to what end? 
+Who dares not stand his foe, I "II be his friend; 
+For if he'll do as he is made to: do, 61 
+I know he ‘Il quickly fly my friendship too. 
+You have put me into rhyme. 
+
+Lord. Farewell; you're angry. 
+
+
+Post. Still going? [Exit Lord.] This is a 
+
+
+lord! O noble misery, 
+
+To be i’ the field, and ask ‘what news?’ of 
+me! 
+
+To-day how many would have given their 
+honours , 
+
+To be saved their carcases! took heel to 
+‘ot, 
+
+And yet died too! I, in imine. own woe 
+charm'd, 
+
+Could not find death where I did hear him 
+groan, 
+
+Nor feel him where he struck: being an ugly 
+monster, 70 
+
+
+‘Tis strange he hides him in fresh cups, soft 
+beds, 
+
+Sweet words; or hath more-mimisters than we 
+
+That draw his knives i’ the war. Well, I will 
+find him: 
+
+For being now a favourer to the Briton, 
+
+No more a Briton, I have resumed again 
+
+The part I came in: fight I will no more, 
+
+But yield to me to the veriest hind that shal! 
+
+Once touch my shoulder, Great the slaughter is 
+
+Here made by the Roman; great the answer 
+be 
+
+Britons must take. 
+death; 
+
+On either side I come to spend my breath; 
+
+Which neither here I'll keep nor bear again 
+
+But end it by some means for Imogen. 
+
+
+For me, my ransom's 
+
+
+Enter two British Captains and Soldiers. 
+
+
+First Cap. Great Jupiter be praised! Lucius 
+is taken. 
+‘Tis thought the old man and his sons were 
+angels. : 
+Sec. Cap. There was a fourth man, in é 
+
+
+silly habit, 
+
+
+Are now each one the slaughter-man of | That gave the affront with them. 
+
+
+First Cap. So ‘tis reported: 
+
+
+1208 
+
+
+But none of ‘em can be found. Stand! who’s| Solemn music. Enter, as in an apparition, 
+
+
+there? 
+Post. A Roman, 
+Who had not now been drooping here, if 
+90 
+
+
+seconds 
+Had answer'd him. 
+Sec. Cap. Lay hands on him; a dog! 
+
+
+A leg of Rome shall not return to tell 
+
+What crows have peck'd them here. He brags 
+his service 
+
+As if he were of note: bring him to the king., 
+
+
+Enter CyMBELINE, BELarius, GUIDERIUS, 
+ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, Soldiers, Attendants, 
+and Roman Captives. The Captains present 
+PestHuMus fo CYMBELINE, who delivers 
+him over to a Gaoler: then excunt omnes. 
+
+
+Scene IV. A British prison. 
+Enter PostHumus and two Gaolers. 
+
+
+First Gaol. “You shall not now be stol’n, 
+you have locks upon you; 
+So graze as you find pasture. 
+Sec. Gaol. Ay, or a stomach. 
+[Exeunt Gaolers. 
+Post. Most welcome, bondage! for thou 
+art a way, 
+I think, to liberty: yet am I better 
+Than one that’s sick o’ the gout; since he had 
+rather 
+Groan so in perpetuity than be cured 
+By the sure physician, death, who is the key 
+To unbar these locks. My conscience, thou 
+art fetter’d 
+More than my shanks and wrists: 
+gods, give me 
+The penitent instrument to pick that bolt, 10 
+Then, free for ever! 1s ’t enough I am sorry? 
+So children temporal fathers do appease; 
+Gods are more full of mercy. 
+I cannot do it better than in gyves, 
+Desired more than constrain’d: to satisfy, 
+If of my freedom tis the main part, take 
+No stricter render of me than my all. 
+1 know you are more clement than vile men, 
+Who of their broken debtors take a third, 
+A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again 20 
+On their abatement: that’s not my desire: 
+For Imogen’s dear life take mine; and though 
+"Tis not so dear, yet ‘tis a life; you coin’d it: 
+"Tween man and man they weigh not every 
+stamp; 
+Though light, take pieces for the figure’s sake: 
+You rather mine, being yours: and so, great 
+powers, 
+If you will take this audit, take this life, 
+And cance] these cold bonds. © Imogen! 
+I'll speak to thee in silence. [Sleeps. 
+
+
+you good 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+Sici. No more, thou thunder-master, show 30 
+
+
+Moth, Lucina lent not me her aid, 
+
+
+Sici. Great nature, like his ancestry, 
+
+
+First Bro. When once he was mature for man, 
+
+
+Must I repent? | Moth. With marriage wherefore was he j 
+
+
+Sici. Why did you suffer Iachimo, 
+
+
+Sec. Bro. 
+
+
+First Bro. Like hardiment Posthumus hath 
+
+
+Sicitius Leonatus, father to Posthumus, 
+an old man, attired like a warrior; leading 
+in his hand an ancient matron, his wife, 
+and mother to Posthumus, with music before 
+them: then, after other music, follow the 
+imo young Leonati, brothers to Posthumus, — 
+with wounds as they died in the wars, They 
+circle PostHuMus round, as he lies sleep- 
+ing. ‘ 
+
+
+Thy spite on mortal flies: 
+With Mars fall out, with Juno chide, 
+That thy adulteries 
+Rates and revenges. 4 
+Hath my poor boy done aught but well, 
+Whose face I never saw? ee 
+I died whilst in the womb he re 
+Attending nature’s law: 
+Whose father then, as men report 
+Thou orphans’ father art, 40. 
+Thou shouldst have been, and shielded 
+him 4 
+From this earth-vexing smart. 
+
+
+But took me in my throes: 
+That from me was Posthumus ript, 
+Came crying ‘mongst his foes, 
+A thing of pity! 
+
+
+Moulded the stuff so fair, 
+That he deserved the praise o’ the world, - 
+As great Sicilius’ heir. ova 
+
+
+In Britain where was he 
+That could stand up his parallel; 
+Or fruitful object be 
+In eye of Imogen, that best 
+Could deem his dignity ? 
+
+
+mock'd, DS 
+To be exiled, and thrown wo 
+
+
+T'rom Leonati seat, and cast 60 
+From her his dearest one, ; 
+Sweet Imogen ? 
+
+
+Slight thing of Italy, 
+
+To taint his nobler heart and brain 
+With needless jealousy: 
+
+And to become the geck and scorn 
+O' th’ other's villany> 4 
+
+For this from stiller seats we came, — 
+Our parents and us twain, 70. 
+
+That striking in our country’s cause 
+Fell bravely and were slain, 
+
+Our fealty and Tenantius’ right 
+With honour to maintain. 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. IV] 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+1209 
+
+
+To Cymbeline perform'd: 
+Then, Jupiter, thou king of gods, 
+| _ Why hast thou thus adjourn’d 
+The graces for his merits due, 
+Being al] to dolours turn’d? 
+Sici. Thy crystal window ope; look out; 
+| No longer exercise 
+Upon a valiant race thy harsh 
+| And potent injuries. 
+Moth. Since, Jupiter, our son is good, 
+' Take off his miseries. 
+ Sici. Peep through thy marble mansion; help; 
+Or we poor ghosts will cry 
+| To the shining synod of the rest 
+Against thy deity. 
+Both Bro. Help, Jupiter; or we appeal, 
+: And from thy justice fly. 
+
+
+80 
+
+
+_ Juprrer descends in thunder and lightning, 
+sitting upon an eagle: he throws a thunder- 
+
+
+» bolt. The Ghosts fall on their knees. 
+
+
+Jup. oe more, you petty spirits of region 
+ow, 
+Offend our hearing; hush! 
+ghosts 
+Accuse the thunder, whose bolt, you know, 
+Sky-planted batters all rebelling coasts? 
+Poor shadows of Elysium, hence, and rest 
+Upon your never-withering banks of flowers: 
+Be not with mortal accidents opprest; 99 
+No care of yours it is; you know ‘tis ours. 
+Whom best I love I cross; to make my gift, 
+The more delay’d, delighted. Be content; 
+Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift: 
+His comforts thrive, his trials well are 
+"spent. 
+Our Jovial star reign’d at his birth, and in 
+Our temple was he married. Rise, and 
+fade, 
+He shall be lord of lady Imogen, 
+And happier much by his affection made. 
+This tablet lay upon his breast, wherein 
+Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine: 
+, And so, away: no further with your din 111 
+Express impatience, lest you stir up mine. 
+Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline. 
+[Ascends. 
+
+
+his celestial 
+
+
+How dare you 
+
+
+Sici. He came in thunder; 
+breath 
+Was sulphurous to smell: the holy eagle 
+Stoop’d, as to foot us: his ascension is 
+More sweet than our blest fields: his royal 
+bird 
+Prunes the immortal wing and cloys his beak, 
+As when his god is pleased. 
+All. Thanks, Jupiter! 
+Sici. The marble pavement closes, he is 
+enter’d 120 
+His radiant roof. Away! and, to be blest, 
+
+
+Let us with care perform his great behest. 
+[The Ghosts vanish. 
+Post. [Waking] Sleep, thou hast been a 
+grandsire, and begot 
+A father to me; and thou hast created 
+A mother and two brothers: but, O scorn! 
+Gone! they went hence so soon as they were 
+born: 
+And so I am awake. 
+pend 
+On greatness’ favour dream as I have done, 
+Wake and find nothing. But, alas, I swerve: 
+Many dream not to find, neither deserve, 130 
+And yet are steep'd in favours; so am I, 
+That have this golden chance and know not 
+
+
+O 
+
+
+Poor wretches that de- 
+
+
+why. 
+What fairies haunt this ground? A book? 
+rare one! 
+Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment 
+Nobler than that it covers: let thy effects 
+So follow, to be most unlike our courtiers, 
+As good as promise. 
+
+[Reads] ‘When as a lion’s whelp shall, to 
+himself unknown, without seeking find, and 
+be embraced by a piece of tender air; and 
+when from a stately cedar shall be lopped 
+branches, which, being dead many years, shall 
+after revive, be jointed to the old stock and 
+freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his 
+miseries, Britain be fortunate and flourish in 
+peace and plenty.’ 
+
+‘Tis still a dream, or else such stuff as madmen 
+Tongue and brain not; either both or nothing; 
+Or senseless speaking or a speaking such 
+As sense cannot untie. Be what it is, 
+The action of my life is like it, which 
+I'll keep, if but for sympathy. 
+
+
+150 
+
+
+Re-enter Gaolers. 
+
+
+First Gaol, 
+death? 
+
+Post. Over-roasted rather; ready long ago. 
+
+First Gaol. Hanging is the word, sir: ne 
+you be ready for that, you are well cooked. 
+
+Post. So, if I prove a good repast to the 
+spectators, the dish pays the shot. 
+
+First Gaol.. A heavy reckoning for you, sir. 
+But the comfort is, you shall be called to no 
+more payments, fear no more tavern-bills; 
+which are often the sadness of parting, as the 
+procuring of mirth: you come in faint for 
+want of meat, depart reeling with too much 
+drink; sorry that you have paid too much, 
+and sorry that you are paid too much; purse 
+and brain both empty; the brain the heavier 
+for being too light, the purse too light, being 
+drawn of heaviness: of this contradiction you 
+shall now be quit. O, the charity of a penny 
+cord! it sums up thousands in a trice: you 
+
+
+Come, sir, are you ready for 
+
+
+1210 
+
+
+have no true debtor and creditor but it; of 
+what's past, is, and to come, the discharge: 
+your neck, sir, is pen, book and counters; so 
+the acquittance follows. 
+
+Post. I am merrier to die than thou art 
+to live. 
+
+First. Gaol. Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels 
+not the tooth-ache: but a man that were to 
+sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him 
+to bed, I think he would change places with 
+his officer; for, look you, sir, you know not 
+which way you shall go. 
+
+Post. Yes, indeed do I, fellow. 
+
+First Gaol. Your death has eyes in'’s head 
+then; I have not seen him so pictured: you 
+must either be directed by some that take upon 
+hem to know, or to take upon yourself that 
+which I am sure you do not know, or jump the 
+after inquiry on your own peril: and how you 
+shall speed in your journey’s end, I think 
+you ll never return to tell one. 19] 
+
+Post. I tell thee, fellow, there are none 
+want eyes to direct them the way I am going, 
+but such as wink and will not use them. 
+
+First Gaol. What an infinite mock is this, 
+
+
+that a man should have the best use of eyes to 
+
+
+gee the way of blindness! I am sure hangin 's: 
+
+
+the way of winking. 
+Enter a Messenger, 
+
+
+Mess. Knock off his manacles; bring your 
+prisoner to the king. 200 
+
+Post. Thou bring’st good news; I am called 
+to be made free. 
+
+First Gaol. 1'll be hang’d then. 
+
+Post, Thou shalt be then freer than a 
+gaoler; no bolts for the dead. 
+
+[Exeunt all but the First Gaoler. 
+
+First Gaol. Unless a man would marry a 
+gallows and beget young gibbets, I never saw 
+one so prone. Yet, on my conscience, there 
+are verier knaves desire to live, for all he be 
+1 Roman: and there be some of them too that 
+die against their wills; so should I, if I were 
+one. I would we were all of one mind, and 
+one mind good; O, there were desolation of 
+gaolers and gallowses! I speak against my 
+present profit, but my wish hath a preferment 
+int. [Exit. 
+
+
+Scene V. Cymbeline’s tent. 
+
+
+Enter CyMBELINE, BELarius, GuIDERIUS, 
+Arviracus, Pisanio, Lords, Officers, and 
+Attendants. 
+
+
+Cym. Stand by my side, you whem the 
+gods have made 
+Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart 
+That the voor soldier that so richly fought, 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+[Acr V, Sc. V. 
+
+
+Whose rags shamed gilded arms, whose naked - 
+breast 
+Stepp’d before targes of proof, cannot be 
+found: 
+He shall be happy that can find him, if 
+Our grace can make him so. 
+el, I never saw 
+Such noble fury in so poor a thing; 
+Such precious deeds in one that promised — 
+nought 
+But beggary and poor looks. 
+Cym. No tidings of him? 10. 
+Pis. He hath been search'd among the 
+dead and living, 
+But no trace of him. 
+
+Cym. To my grief, I am 
+The heir of his reward; [To Belarius, Guide- 
+rius, and Arviragus] which I will add 
+To you, the liver, heart and brain of Britain, 
+By whom I grant she lives. "Tis now the time 
+To ask of whence you are. Report it. 
+Bel. Sir, 
+
+In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen: 
+Further to boast were neither true nor modest, 
+Unless I add, we are honest. 
+Cym. Bow your knees. 
+Arise my:knights o' the battle; I create you 20 
+ompanions to our person and will fit you 
+With dignities becoming your estates. 
+
+
+Enter CorneELius and Ladies. 
+
+
+There 's business in these faces. Why so sadly 
+Greet you our victory? you look like Romans, 
+And not o’ the court of Britain. 
+
+Cor. - Hail, great king! 
+To sour your happiness, I must report 
+The queen is dead. 
+
+Cym. -Who worse than a physician 
+Would this report become? But I consider, 
+By medicine life may be prolong'd, yet death 
+Will seize the doctor too. How ended she? 
+
+Cony With horror, madly dying, like her 
+
+Ife, = 
+Which, being cruel to the world, concluded 
+Most cruel to herself. What she confess’d 
+I will report, so please you: these her women 
+Can trip me, if I err; who with wet cheeks 
+
+ere present when she finish’d. 
+
+Cym. Prithee, say. 
+
+Cor. First, she confess'd she never loved 
+
+you, only 
+Affected greatness got by you, not you: 
+Married your royalty, was wife to your place; 
+Abhorr'’d your person. . 
+
+Cym. She alone knew this; 40 
+And, but she spoke it dying, I would not 
+Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed. 
+
+Cor. Your daughter, whom she bore in 
+
+hand to love 
+
+
+aS oem eo 
+aaa 
+re 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. V] 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+1211 
+
+
+With such integrity, she did confess 
+
+Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life, 
+But that her flight prevented it, she had 
+Ta’en off by poison. 
+
+Cym. O most delicate fiend! 
+
+Who ist can read a woman? Is there more? 
+Cor. More, sir, and worse. She did con- 
+fess she had : 49 
+For you a mortal mineral; which, being took, 
+Should by the minute feed on life and linger- 
+ing 
+
+By inches waste you: 
+posed, 
+
+By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to 
+O’ercome you with her show, and in time 
+When she had fitted you with her craft, to 
+work 
+
+Her son into the adoption of the crown: 
+
+
+in which time she pur- 
+
+
+‘But, failing of her end by his strange absence, 
+
+
+Grew shameless-desperate; open’d, in despite 
+Of heaven and men, her purposes, repented 
+The evils she hatch’d were not effected; so 60 
+Despairing died. 
+Cym. Heard you all this, her women? 
+First Lady. We did, so please your high- 
+ness. 
+Cym. Mine eyes 
+Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; 
+Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my 
+heart, ; 
+That thought her like her seeming; it had been 
+Vicious 
+To have mistrusted her: yet, O my daughter! 
+That it was folly in me, thou mayst say, 
+And fore it in thy feeling. Heaven mend 
+“all! 
+
+
+_ Enter Lucius, Iacuimo, the Soothsayer, and 
+
+
+other Roman Prisoners, guarded; PosTHu- 
+Mus behind, and IMoGEN. 
+
+
+Thou comest not, Caius, now for tribute; that 
+The Britons have razed out, though with the 
+- loss 70 
+
+
+_ Of many a bold one; whose kinsmen have 
+
+
+made suit 
+
+That their good souls may be appeased with 
+slaughter 
+
+Of you their captives, which ourself have 
+granted: 
+
+
+So think of your estate. 
+Luc. Consider, sir, the chance of war: 
+day 
+Was yours by accident; had it gone with us, 
+We should not, when the blood was cool, have 
+threaten'd 
+Our prisoners with the sword. But since the 
+
+
+the 
+
+
+gods 
+Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives 
+
+
+May be call’d ransom, let it come: sufficeth 80 
+A Roman with a Roman’s heart can suffer: 
+Augustus lives to think on't: and so much 
+For my peculiar care. This one thing only 
+I will entreat; my boy, a Briton born, 
+Let him be ransom’d: never master had 
+A page so kind, so duteous, diligent, 
+So tender over his occasions, true, 
+So feat, so nurse-like: let his virtue join 
+With my request, which I ‘ll make bold your 
+highness 
+Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm, 
+Though he have served a Roman: save him, 
+sir, 
+And spare no blood beside. 
+Cym. I have surely seen him: 
+His favour is familiar to me. Boy, 
+Thou hast look’d thyself into my grace, 
+TAnd art mine own. I know not why, where- 
+fore, 
+To say, 
+live: 
+
+
+‘live, boy:’ ne’er thank thy. master; 
+
+
+-| And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt, 
+
+
+Fitting my bounty and thy state, I'll give it; 
+Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner, 
+The noblest ta’en. 
+
+
+Imo. I humbly thank your highness, 100 
+Luc. I do not bid thee beg my life, good 
+lad; 
+And yet I know thou wilt. 
+Imo. No, no: alack, 
+
+
+There's other work in hand: I see a thing 
+Bitter to me as death: your life, good master. 
+Must shuffe for itself. 
+Lue. The boy disdains me, 
+He leaves me, scorns me: briefly die their joys 
+That place them on the truth of girls and 
+boys. 
+Why stands he so perplex’d? 
+Cym. What wouldst thou, boy? 
+I love thee more and more: think more and 
+more 
+What's best to ask. Know’st him thou look’st 
+on? speak, 110 
+Wilt have him alive? Is he thy kin? thy 
+friend? 
+Imo. He is a Roman; no more kin to me 
+Than I to your highness; who, being born 
+your vassal, 
+Am something nearer. 
+
+
+ym. Wherefore eyest him so? 
+Imo. I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you 
+please 
+To give me hearing. 
+Cym. Ay, with all my heart, 
+And lend my best attention. . What's thy 
+name? 
+Imo. Fidele, sir. 
+
+
+Cym. Thou 'rt my good youth, my page; 
+
+
+1212 
+
+
+I'll. be thy master: walk with me; speak 
+freely. 
+[Cymbeline and Imogen converse apart. 
+Bel. is not this boy revived from death? 
+Ar. One sand another 120 
+Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad 
+Who died, and was Fidele. What think 
+you? 
+Gui. The same dead thing alive. 
+Bel. Peace, peace! see further: he eyes us 
+not; forbear; 
+Creatures may be alike: were 't he, I am sure 
+He would have spoke to us. 
+Gui. But we saw him dead. 
+Bel. Be silent; let's see further. 
+Pis, [Aside] It is my mistress: 
+Since she is living, let the time run on 
+To good or bad. 
+[Cymbeline and Imogen éome forward. 
+Cym. Come, stand thou by our side; 
+Make thy demand aloud. [To lachimo] Sir, 
+step you forth; 130 
+Give answer to this boy, and do it freely; 
+Or, by our greatness and the grace of it, 
+Which is our honour, bitter torture shall 
+Winnow the truth from falsehood. On, speak 
+to him. 
+Imo. My boon is, that this gentleman may 
+render 
+Of whom he had this ring. 
+Post. [Aside] What's to him? 
+Cym. That diamond upon your finger, say 
+How came it yours? 
+lach. Thou 'lt torture me to leave unspoken 
+that 
+Which, to be spoke, would torture thee. 
+
+
+Cum. How! me? 140 
+Tach. I am glad to be constrain’d to utter 
+that 
+
+
+Which torments me to conceal. By villany 
+I got this ring: "twas Leonatus’ jewel; 
+Whom thou didst banish; and—which more 
+may grieve thee, 
+As it doth me—a nobler sir ne'er lived 
+*Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, 
+my lord? 
+Cym. All that belongs to this. 
+Tach. That paragon, thy daughter,— 
+For whom my heart drops blood, and my false 
+spirits 
+Quail to remember— Give me leave; I faint. 
+Cym. My daughter! what of her? Renew 
+thy strength: 150 
+I had rather thou shouldst live while nature 
+will 
+Than die ere I hear more: strive, man, and 
+speak. 
+Tach. Upon a time,—unhappy was the 
+clock 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+eee eee eee nS Tee Soe GE 
+
+
+Me a ae 
+
+
+[Acr V, Sc. V 
+
+
+That struck the hour!—it was in Rome,—ac- 
+cursed 
+The mansion where!—'twas at a feast,—O, 
+would ix 
+Our viands had been poison’d, or at least ; 
+Those which I heaved to head!—the good 
+Posthumus— t 
+What should I say? he was too good to be 
+Where ill men were; and*was the best of all ; 
+Amongst the rarest of good ones,—silting 
+sadly, 
+Hearing us praise our loves of Italy 161 
+For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast — 
+Of him that best could speak, for feature, 
+laming 
+The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Min- 
+erva, ; 
+
+
+Postures beyond brief nature, for condition, _ 
+
+
+A shop of all the qualities that man 
+Loves woman for, besides that hook of wiving, 
+Fairness which strikes the eye— 
+
+
+Cym. I stand on fire: 
+Come to the matter. 
+Tach. All too soon I shall, 
+
+
+Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. This Post- 
+humus, 170 
+Most like a noble lord in love and one 
+That had a royal lover, took his hint; 
+And, not dispraising whom we praised,— 
+therein 
+He was as calm as virtue—he began 
+His mistress’ picture; which by his tongue 
+being made, 
+And then a mind put in’t, either our brags 
+Were crack’d of kitchen-trulls, or his descrip- 
+hon 
+Proved us unspeaking sots. : 
+Cym. Nay, nay, to the purpose. 
+Tach, Your daughter's chastity—there it be- 
+gins. 
+
+
+He spake of her, as Dian had hot dreams, 180 — 
+
+
+And she alone were cold: whereat I, wretch, 
+
+
+Made ‘scruple of his praise; and wager'd with : 
+
+
+him 
+
+
+Pieces of gold ‘gainst this which then he — 
+
+
+wore 
+Upon his honour'd finger, to attain 
+In suit the place of 's bed and win this ring 
+By hers and mine adultery, He, true knight, 
+No lesser of her honour confident 
+Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring; 
+And would so, had it been a carbuncle 189 
+Of Phcebus’ wheel, and might so safely, had it 
+Been all the worth of 's car. Away to Britain 
+Post I in this design: well may you, sir, 
+Remember me at court; where I was taught 
+Of your chaste daughter the wide difference 
+"Twixt amorous and villanous. Being thus 
+quench’d 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+orca 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. VJ 
+
+
+Some upright justicer! 
+
+
+4 Ny OE TR we 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+we", 
+
+
+1213 
+
+
+Of hope, not longing, mime Italian brain 
+
+"Gan im your duller Britain operate 
+
+Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent: 
+
+And, to be brief, my practice so prevail’d, 
+
+That I return'd with simular proof enough 200 
+
+To make the noble Leonatus mad, 
+
+By wounding his belief in her renown 
+
+With tokens thus, and thus; averring notes 
+
+Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her brace- 
+let,— 
+
+
+_O cunning, how I got it!—nay, some marks 
+
+
+Of secret on her person, that he could not 
+But think her bond of chastity quite crack’d, 
+I having ta’en the forfeit. Whereupon— 
+Methinks, I see him now— 
+
+Post. [Advancing] Ay, so thou dost, 
+Italian fiend! Ay, me, most credulous fool, 
+
+
+-Egregious murderer, thief, any thing 
+
+
+That's due to all the villains past, in being, 
+
+To come! O, give me cord, or knife, or poi- 
+son, 
+
+Thou, king, send out 
+
+For torturers ingenious: it is I 
+
+That all the abhorred things o’ the earth 
+amend 
+
+By being worse than they. I am Posthumus, 
+
+That kill’d thy daughter:—villain-like, I lie— 
+
+That caused a lesser villain than myself, 
+
+A sacrilegious thief, to do’t: the temple 220 
+
+Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself. 
+
+Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set 
+
+The dogs o” the street to bay me: every villain 
+
+Be call’d Posthumus Leonatus; and 
+
+Be villany less*than ‘twas! O Imogen! 
+
+My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen, 
+
+Imogen, Imogen! 
+
+Imo. 
+Post. Shall’s have a play of this? 
+
+scornful page, 
+
+There lie thy part. [Striking her: she falls. 
+
+
+Peace, my lord; hear, hear— 
+
+
+Thou 
+
+
+Pis. O, gentlemen, help! 
+Mine and your mistress! O, my lord Post- 
+humus! 230 
+
+
+q Vihicne’enkill'd Imogen till now. Help, help! 
+Mine honour'd lady! 
+
+
+Cym. Does the world go round? 
+Post. How come these staggers on me? 
+Pis. Wake, my mistress! 
+Cym. If this be so, the gods do mean to 
+strike me 
+To death with mortal joy. 
+Pis. How fares my mistress? 
+Imo. O, get thee from my sight; 
+Thou gavest me poison: dangerous fellow, 
+hence! 
+Breathe not where princes are. 
+Cym. The tune of Imogen! 
+Pis. Lady, 
+The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if 240 
+
+
+That box I gave you was not thought by me 
+A precious thing: I had it from the queen. 
+Cym. New matter still? 
+Imo. It poison’d me. 
+Cor. O gods! 
+I left out one thing which the queen confess'd, 
+Which must approve thee honest: ‘If Pisanio 
+Have,’ said she, ‘given his mistress that con- 
+fection 
+Which I gave him for cordial, she is served 
+As I would serve a rat.’ 
+Cym. What’s this, Cornelius? 
+Cor. The queen, sir, very oft importuned 
+me 
+To temper poisons for her, still pretending 250 
+The satisfaction of her knowledge only 
+In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs, 
+Of no esteem: I, dreading that her purpose 
+Was of more danger, did compound for her 
+A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would 
+cease 
+The present power of life, but in short time 
+All offices of nature should again 
+Do their due functions. Have you ta’en of it? 
+Imo. Most like I did, for I was dead. 
+Bel. My boys, 
+There was our error. 
+Gui. This is, sure, Fidele. 260 
+Imo. Why did you throw your wedded 
+lady from you? 
+Think that you are upon a rock; and now 
+Throw me again. [Embracing him. 
+
+
+Post. Hang-there like fruit, my soul, 
+Till the tree die! 
+Cym. How now, my flesh, my child! 
+
+
+What, makest thou me a dullard in this act? 
+Wilt thou not speak to me? 
+Imo. [Kneeling] Your blessing, sir. 
+Bel. [To Guiderius and Arviragus] Vhough 
+you did love this youth, I blame ye not; 
+You had a motive for’t. 
+Cym. My tears that fall 
+Prove holy water on thee! Imogen, 
+Thy mother’s dead. 
+Imo. I am sorry for’t, my lord. 270 
+Cym. O, she was naught; and long of her 
+it was 
+That we meet here so strangely: but her son 
+Is gone, we know not how nor where. 
+Pis. My lord, 
+Now fear is from me, I ll speak troth. Lord 
+Cloten, 
+Upon my lady’s missing, came to me 
+With his sword drawn; foam'd at the mouth, 
+and swore, 
+If I discover'd not which way she was gone, 
+It was my instant death. By accident, 
+I had a feigned letter of my master’s 
+Then in my pocket; which directed him 280 
+
+
+1214 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+[Acr V, Sc. V 4 
+
+
+‘To seek her on the mountains near to Milford; 
+Where, in a frenzy, in my master’s garments, 
+Which he enforced from me, away he posts 
+With unchaste purpose and with oath to violate 
+My lady's honour: what became of him 
+
+I further know not. 
+
+
+Gui, Let me end the story: 
+I slew him there. 
+Cym, Marry, the gods forfend! 
+I would not thy good deeds should from my 
+lips 
+Pluck a hard sentence: prithee, valiant youth, 
+Deny 't again. 
+Gui. I have spoke it, and I did it. 290 
+
+
+Cym. He was a prince. 
+
+
+Gui. A most incivil one: the wrongs he 
+did me 
+Were nothing prince-like; for he did pro- 
+voke me 
+With language that would make me spurn the 
+sea, 
+
+
+If it could so roar to me: I cut off ’s head; 
+And am right glad he is not standing here 
+To tell this tale of mine. 
+
+
+Cym. I am sorry for thee: 
+By thine own tongue thou art condemn’d, and 
+must 
+Endure our law: thou ‘rt dead. 
+Imo. That headless man 
+1 thought had been my lord. 
+Cym. Bind the offender, 300 
+
+
+And take him from our presence. 
+
+Bel. 3 Stay, sir king: 
+
+This man is better than the man he slew, 
+
+As well descended as thyself; and hath 
+
+More of thee merited than a band of Clotens 
+
+Had ever scar for. [To the Guard] Let his 
+arms alone; 
+
+They were not born for bondage. 
+
+Cym. Why, old soldier, 
+Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for, 
+By tasting of our wrath? How of descent 
+As good as we? 
+
+Ar. In that he spake too far. 
+
+Cym. And thou shalt die for ’t. 
+
+Bel. We will die all three: 310 
+But I will prove that two on’s are as good 
+As I have given out him. My sons, I must, 
+For mine own part, unfold a dangerous speech, 
+Though, haply, well for you. 
+
+Ar Your danger 's ours. 
+
+Gi And our good his. 
+
+Bel. Have at it then, by leave. 
+Thou hadst, great king, a subject who 
+Was call'd Belarius. 
+
+
+Cym. What of him? he is 
+A banish'd traitor. 
+Bel. He it is that hath 
+
+
+Assumed this age: indeed a banish’d man; 
+
+
+| This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus, 
+
+
+I know not how a traitor. 
+
+Cym. Take him hence: 320 
+The whole world shall not save him. 
+
+Bel. Not too hot: 
+First pay me for the nursing of thy sons; 
+And let it be confiscate all, so soon 
+As I have received it. 
+
+Cym. Nursing of my sons! 
+
+Bel. I am too blunt and saucy: here ’s my 
+
+knee: 
+
+Ere I arise, [ will prefer my sons; 
+
+Then spare not the old father. Mighty sir, 
+
+These two young gentlemen, that call me 
+father 
+
+And think they are my sons. are none of 
+mine; 
+
+They are the issue of your loins, my liege, 330 
+
+And blood of your begetting. 
+
+
+Cym. How! my issue! ~ 
+Bel. So sure as ycu your father’s. I, old 
+Morgan, 
+Am that Belarius whom you _ sometime 
+banish'd: - 
+Your pleasure was my mere offence, my pun- 
+ishment 
+Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd 
+Was all the harm I did. These gentle 
+princes— 
+
+
+For such and so they are—these twenty years 
+
+Have I train’d up: those arts they have as I 
+
+Could put into them; my breeding was, sir, 
+as 339 
+
+Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile, 
+
+Whom for the theft 1 wedded, stole these 
+children 
+
+Upon my banishment: I moved her to ’t, 
+
+Having received the punishment before, 
+
+For that which I did then: beaten for loyalty 
+
+Excited me to treason: their dear loss, 
+
+The more of you ‘twas felt, the more it shaped 
+
+Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious 
+sir, 
+
+Here are your sons again; and | must lose 
+
+Two of the sweet’st companions in the world. 
+
+The benediction of these covering heavens 350 
+
+Fall on their heads like dew! for they are 
+worthy 
+
+To inlay heaven with stars. 
+
+Cym. Thou weep’st, and speak'st. 
+The service that you three have done is more 
+Unlike than this thou tell’st. I lost my chil- 
+
+dren: 
+If these be they, I know not how to wish 
+A pair of worthier sons. 
+Bel, Be pleased awhile. 
+This gentleman, whom I call Polydore, 
+Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Gui- 
+derius: 
+
+
+359 9 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. V] 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+1215 
+
+
+Your younger princely son; he, sir, was lapp’d 
+In a most curious mantle, wrought by the 
+
+
+hand 
+
+
+Of his queen mother, which for more proba- 
+
+
+tion 
+I can with ease produce. 
+Cym. Guiderius had 
+
+
+Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star; 
+It was a mark of wonder. 
+Bel. This is he; 
+Who hath upon him still that natural stamp: 
+It was wise nature's end in the donation, 
+To be his evidence now. 
+Cym. O, what, am I 
+A mother to the birth of three? Ne’er mother 
+
+
+Rejoiced deliverance more. Blest pray you 
+be, 
+
+That, after this strange starting from your 
+orbs, 
+
+
+You may reign in them now ! O Imogen, 
+Thou hast lost by this a kingdom. 
+
+
+Imo. No, my lord; 
+I have got two worlds byt. O my gentle 
+brothers, 
+
+
+Have we thus met? O, never say hereafter 
+But I am truest speaker: you call’d me brother, 
+
+
+- When I was but your sister; I you brothers, 
+
+
+When ye were so indeed. 
+
+
+Cym. Did e’er meet? 
+Ary, Ay, my good lord. 
+Gui. And at first meeting loved; 
+
+
+Continued so, until we ‘hought he died. 380 
+Cor. By the queen's dram she swallow’d. 
+Cym. O rare instinct! 
+
+When shall I hear all through? This fierce 
+
+abridgement 
+
+Hath to it circumstantial branches, which 
+
+Distinction should be rich in. Where? how 
+
+
+lived you? 
+
+And when came you to serve our Roman 
+captive > 
+
+How parted with your brothers? how first met 
+them? 
+
+
+Why fled you from the court? and whither? 
+These, 
+
+And your three motives to the battle, with 
+
+I know not how much more, should be de- 
+manded; 
+
+And all the other by-dependencies, 390 
+
+From chance to chance: but nor the time nor 
+place 
+
+Will serve our long inter’gatories. See, 
+
+Posthumus anchors upon Imogen, 
+
+And she, like harmless lightning, throws her 
+eye 
+
+On him, her brothers, me, her master, hitting 
+
+Each object with a joy: the counterchange 
+
+Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground, 
+
+And smoke the temple with our sacrifices. 
+
+
+{To Belarius] Thou art my brother; so we ‘If 
+hold thee ever. 
+
+
+Imo. You are my father too, and did re~ 
+lieve me, 400) 
+To see this gracious season. 
+Cym, All o’erjoy’d, 
+
+
+Save these in bonds: let them be joyful too, 
+For they shall taste our comfort. 
+
+
+Imo. My good master, 
+I will yet do you service. 
+Luc. Happy be you! 
+Cym. The forlorn soldier, that so nobly 
+fought, 
+He would have well becomed this place, and 
+graced 
+The thankings of a king. 
+Post. am, sir, 
+
+
+The soldier that did company these three 
+In poor beseeming; ‘twas a fitment for 409 
+The purpose I then follow'd. That I was 
+
+
+e, 
+Speak, lachimo: I had you down and might 
+Have made you finish. 
+
+Tach. [Kneeling] | am down again: 
+
+But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee, 
+
+As then your force did. Take that life, be- 
+seech you, 
+
+Which I so often owe: but your ring first; 
+
+And here the bracelet of the truest princess 
+
+That ever swore her faith. 
+
+Post. Kneel not to me: 
+
+The power that I have on you is to spare you; 
+The malice towards you to forgive you: live, 
+And deal with others better. 
+
+Cym. _ Nobly doom’d! 420 
+We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law; 
+Pardon 's the word to all. 
+
+Ar. You holp us, sir, 
+
+As you did mean indeed to be our brother; 
+Joy'd are we that you are. 
+
+
+Post. Your servant, princes. Good my 
+lord of Rome, 
+Call forth your soothsayer: as I slept, me- 
+thought 
+
+
+Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back’d, 
+Appear’d to me, with other spritely shows 
+Of mine own kindred: when I waked, I found 
+This label on my bosom; whose containing 
+Is so from sense in hardness, that I can 43] 
+Make no collection of it: let him show 
+His skill in the construction. 
+Luc. Philarmonus! 
+Sooth. Here, my good lord. 
+Luc. Read, ard declare the meaning. 
+Sooth. [Reads] ‘When as a lion’s whelp 
+shall, to himself unknown, without seeking 
+find, and be embraced by a piece of tender 
+air; and when from a stately cedar shall be 
+lopped branches, which, being dead many: 
+
+
+1216 
+
+
+CYMBELINE 
+
+
+years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old 
+stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthu- 
+mus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate and 
+flourish in peace and ; lenty.’ 
+Thou, Leonatus, art the lion’s whelp; 
+The fit and apt construction of thy name, 
+Being Leo-natus, doth import so much, 
+[To Cymbeline] The piece of tender air, thy 
+virtuous daughter, 
+Which we call ‘mollis aer;’ and ‘mollis aer’ 
+We term it ‘mulier:’ which ‘mulier’ I divine 
+Is this most constant wife; who, even now, 
+Answering the letter of ihe oracle, 450 
+Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp’d about 
+With this most tender air. 
+Cym. This hath some seeming. 
+Sooth. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, 
+Personates thee: and thy lopp'd branches 
+point 
+Thy two sons forth; who, by Belarius stol’n, 
+For many years thought dead, are now re- 
+vived, 
+To the majestic cedar join'd, whose issue 
+Promises Britain peace and plenty. 
+Cym. Well; 
+My peace we will begin. And, Caius Lucius, 
+Although the victor, we submit to Cesar, 460 
+And to the Roman empire; promising 
+To pay our wonted tribute, from the which 
+We were dissuaded by our wicked queen; 
+
+
+a heavens, in justice, both on her and 
+
+ers, 
+
+Have laid most heavy hand. : 
+
+Sooth. The fingers of the powers above do 
+
+tune 
+
+The harmony of this peace. The vision 
+
+Which I made known to Lucius, ere the 
+stroke : 
+
+Of this yet scarce-cold battle, at this instant 
+
+Is full accomplish’d; for the Roman eagle, 470 
+
+From south to west on wing soaring aloft, 
+
+Lessen’d herself, and in the beams o’ the sun 
+
+So vanish’d: which foreshow'd our princely 
+eagle, 
+
+The imperial Cesar, should again unite 
+
+His favour with the radiant Cymbeline, 
+
+Which shines here in the west. ae 
+
+Cym. Laud we the gods; 
+
+And let our crooked smokes climb to their 
+nostrils ; 
+
+From our blest altars. Publish we this peace © 
+
+To all our subjects. Set we forward: let 
+
+A Roman and a British ensign wave 480 
+
+Friendly together: so through Lud’s-town 
+march: ‘ 
+
+And in the temple of great Jupiter 
+
+Our peace we'll ratify; seal it with feasts. 
+
+Set on there! Never was a war did cease, 
+
+Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with such a 
+
+Peace. [Exeuni 
+
+
+€ 
+
+
+bood PRINCE 
+
+
+PERICLES 
+
+
+OF TYRE 
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONE 
+
+
+_ AntiocHus, king of Antioch. 
+
+
+PERICLES, prince of Tyre. 
+
+
+es t two. lords of Tyre. 
+
+
+Smoniwes, king of Pentapolis. 
+
+
+_ CLEON, governor of Tarsus. 
+
+
+LysimacHus, governor of Mytilene. 
+
+
+_ CERIMON, a lord of Ephesus. 
+_ THaLtarp, a lord of Antioch. 
+-PHILEMON, servant to Cerimon. 
+
+
+LEONINE, servant to Dionyza, 
+
+
+7 ea a 
+
+
+Enter Gower. 
+Before the palace of Antioch. 
+
+
+To sing a song that old was sung, 
+From ashes ancient Gower is come; 
+Assuming man’s infirmities, 
+
+
+= fe glad your ear, and please your eyes. 
+
+
+It hath been sung at festivals, 
+On. ember-eves and holy- ales; 
+And lords and ladies in their lives 
+
+
+: oa read it for restoratives: 
+
+
+The purchase is to make men glorious; 
+
+__ Et bonum quo antiquius, eo melius, 10 
+If you, born in these latter times, 
+
+_ When wit’s more’ ripe, accept my rhymes, 
+
+
+_ And that to hear an old man sing 
+
+
+ay to your wishes pleasure bring, 
+
+
+4 TJ life would wish, and that I might 
+
+
+Waste it for you, like taper- -light. 
+
+This Antioch, then, Antiochus the Great 
+_ Built up, this city, for his chiefest seat; 
+The fairest in all Syria, 
+
+I tell you what mine authors say: 20 
+* This king unto him took a fere, 
+
+
+Who died and left a female heir, 
+
+
+So buxom, so blithe, and full of face, 
+
+
+_ As heaven had lent her all his grace; 
+
+
+- With whom the father liking took, 
+
+
+And her. to incest did provoke: 
+
+Bad child; worse father! to entice his own 
+To evil should be done by none: 
+
+But custom what they did begin 
+
+
+Bou t, his servant. 
+
+The Daughter of Antiochus, 
+
+Dionyza, wife to Cleon. 
+
+Tuaisa, daughter to Simonides, 
+
+Marina, daughter to Pericles and Thaisa, 
+LycnHoripa, nurse to Marina. 
+
+A Bawd. 
+
+
+Lords, Knights, Gentlemen, Sailors, Pirates, 
+Fishermen, and Messengers. 
+
+
+DIANA. , 
+Gower, as Chorus. 
+| Scene: Dispersedly in various countries. 
+
+
+The beauty of this sinful dame 
+
+Made many princes thither frame, 
+
+To seek her as a bed-fellow, 
+
+In marriage-pleasures play-fellow: 
+
+Which to prevent he made a law, 
+
+To keep her still, and men in awe, 
+
+That whoso ask’d her for his wife, 
+
+His riddle told not, lost his life: 
+
+So for her many a wight did die, 
+
+As yon grim looks do testify. 40 
+
+What now ensues, to the judgement of 
+your eye 
+
+I give, my cause who best can justify. 
+
+
+[Exit. 
+
+
+Scene I, Antioch. A room in the palace, 
+
+
+Enter ANTIocHUS, PRINCE PERICLEs, 
+and followers. 
+
+
+Ant. Young prince of Tyre, you have at 
+large received 
+The danger of the task you undertake. 
+Per. 1 have, Antiochus, and, with a soul 
+Embolden’d with the glory of her praise, 
+Think death no hazard in this enterprise. 
+Ant. Bring in our daughter, clothed like 
+a bride, 
+For the embracements even of Jove himself; 
+At whose conception, till Lucina reign’d, 
+Nature this dowry gave, to glad her pres- 
+ence, 
+The senate-house of planets all did sit, 10 
+To knit in her their best perfections. 
+
+
+Was with long use account no sin. 30° Music. Enter the Daughter of Antiochus. 
+1217 
+
+
+f 
+
+
+1218 ‘ PERICLES {AcrT, Scou 
+EE EE eee 
+Per. See where she comes, apparell'd like| Per, Like a bold champion, I assume the 
+
+
+the spring, 4 lists, ‘ 
+Graces her subjects, and her thoughts the king | Nor ask advice of any other thought 
+Of every virtue gives renown to men! But faithfulness and courage. 
+
+
+Her face the book of praises, where is read 
+Nothing but curious pleasures, as from thence 
+Sorrow were ever razed, and testy wrath 
+Could never be her mild companion. 
+You gods that made me man, and sway in 
+love, 
+That have inflamed desire in my breast 20 
+To taste the fruit of yon celest al tree, 
+Or die in the adventure, be my helps, 
+As I am son and servant to your will, 
+To compass such a boundless happiness! 
+Ant. Prince Pericles,— 
+Per. That would be son to great Antiochus. 
+Ant. Before thee stands this fair Hesperides, 
+With golden fruit, but dangerous to be touch'd; 
+For death-like dragons here affright thee hard: 
+Her face, like heaven, enticeth thee to view 30 
+Her countless glory, which desert must gain; 
+And which, without desert, because thine eye 
+Presumes to reach, all thy whole heap must 
+die. 
+Yon sometimes famous princes, like thyself, 
+Drawn by report, adventurous by desire, 
+Tell thee, with speechless tongues and sem- 
+blance pale, 
+That without covering, save yon field of stars, 
+Here they stand martyrs, slain in Cupid's 
+wars; 
+And with dead cheeks adv'se thee to desist 
+For going on death’s net, whom none resist. 40 
+Per. Antiochus, I thank thee, who hath 
+taught 
+My frail mortality to know itself, 
+And by those fearful objects to prepare 
+This body, like to them, to what I must; 
+For death remember'd should be like a mirror, 
+Who tells us life's but breath, to trust it error, 
+I'll make my will then, and, as sick men do 
+‘Who know the world, see heaven, but, feeling 
+
+
+He reads the riddle. 
+I am no viper, yet I feed 
+On mother’s flesh which did me breed, 
+I sought a husband, in which labour 
+I found that kindness in a father: 
+He’s father, son, and husband mild; 
+I mother, wife, and yet his child. 
+How they may be, and yet in two, 70 
+As you will live, resolve it you. 
+Sharp physic is the last: but, O you powers 
+That give heaven countless eyes to view men’s 
+acts, 
+Why cloud they not their sights perpetually, 
+If this be true, which makes me pale to read it? 
+Fair glass of light, I loved you, and could still, 
+[Takes hold of the hand of the Princess, 
+Were not this glorious casket stored with ill: 
+But I must tell you, now my thoughts revolt; 
+For he’s no man on whom perfections wait 79 
+That, knowing sin within, will touch the gate. 
+You area fair viol, and your sense the strings; 
+Who, finger'd to make man his lawful music, 
+Would draw heaven down, and all the gods, 
+to hearken; 
+But being play’d upon before your time, 
+Hell only danceth at so harsh a chime. 
+Good sooth, I care not for you. 
+we Prince Pericles, touch not, upon thy 
+ife, 
+For that's an article within our law, 
+As dangerous as the rest. Your t'me’s expired: 
+Either expound now, or receive your sentence, 
+Per, Great king, 91. 
+Few love to hear the sins they love to act; 
+Nott braid yourself too near for me to 
+tell it. 
+Who has a book of all that monarchs do, 
+e's more secure to keep it shut than shown: 
+For vice repeated is like the wandering wind, 
+
+
+woe, Blows dust in others’ eyes, to spread itself; 
+Gr'pe not at earthly joys as erst they did; And yet the end of all is bought thus dear, 
+So I bequeath a happy peace to you 50 | The breath is gone, and the sore eyes see clear 
+
+
+And all good men, as every prince should do; 
+My riches to the earth from whence they came; 
+But my unspotted fire of love to you. 
+
+[To the daughter of Antiochus, 
+Thus ready for the way of life or death, 
+
+
+To stop the ar would hurt them. The blind 
+
+mole casts 100 
+
+Copp'd hills towards heaven, to tell the earth | 
+is throng’d 
+
+y man’s oppression; and the poor worm doth 
+
+
+I wait the sharpest blow, Antiochus. die for 't. 
+Ant. Scorning advice, read the conclusion, Kings are earth's gods; in vice their law 's 
+then: their will; 
+
+
+Which read and not expounded, 'tis decreed, | And if Jove stray, who dares say Jove doth ill? 
+As these before thee thou thyself shalt bleed. | It is enough you know; and it is fit 
+Daugh, Of all say'd yet, mayst thou prove | Wh 
+prosperous! 
+
+
+Of all say'’d yet, I wish thee happiness! 60 
+
+
+; 
+at being more known grows worse, to 
+smother it. ‘ 
+
+
+All love the womb that their first being bred, 
+
+
+‘Act I, Ser Il] 
+
+
+PERICLES 
+
+
+1219 
+
+
+NNN 
+
+
+Then give my tongue like leave to love my 
+head. 
+Ant. [Aside] Heaven, that 1 had thy 
+head! he has found the meaning: 
+But I will gloze with him.—Young prince of 
+Tyre, 110 
+Though by the tenour of our strict edict, 
+Your exposition misinterpreting, 
+We might proceed to cancel of your days; 
+Yet hope, succeeding from so fair a tree 
+As your fair self, doth tune us otherwise: 
+Forty days longer we do resp-te you; 
+If by which time our secret be undone, 
+This mercy shows we'll joy in such a son: 
+And until then your entertain shall be 
+As doth befit our honour and your worth. 120 
+[Exeunt all but Pericles. 
+Per. How courtesy would seem to cover sin, 
+When what is done is like an hypocrite, 
+The which is good in nothing but in sight! 
+If it be true that I interpret false, 
+Then were it certain you were not so bad 
+As with foul incest to abuse your soul; 
+Where now you're both a father and a son, 
+By your untimely claspings with your child, 
+Which pleasure fits an husband, not a father; 
+And she an eater of her mother’s flesh, 130 
+By the defiling of her parent's bed; 
+And both like serpents are, who though they 
+feed 
+On sweetest flowers, yet they poison breed. 
+Antioch, farewell! for wisdom sees, those men 
+Blush not in actions blacker than the night, 
+Saas shun no course to keep them from the 
+ight. 
+One sin, I know, another doth provoke; 
+Murder 's as near to lust as flame to smoke: 
+Poison and treason are the hands of sin, 
+Ay, and the targets, to put off the shame: 140 
+Then, lest my life be cropp’d to keep you clear, 
+By flight I ‘ll shun the danger which I fear, 
+: [Exit 
+
+
+Re-enter ANTIOCHUS. 
+
+
+Ant. He hath found the meaning, 
+which we mean 
+
+To have his head. 
+He must not live to trumpet forth my infamy, 
+Nor tell the world Antiochus doth sin 
+In such a loathed manner; 
+And therefore instantly this prince must die; 
+For by his fall my honour must keep high. 
+Who attends us there? 
+
+
+Enter THALIARD, 
+
+
+Thal. Doth your highness call? 150 
+Ant.. Thaliard, 
+You are of our chamber, and our mind partakes 
+Her private actions to your secrecy; 
+
+
+for 
+
+
+And for your faithfulness we will advance you. 
+
+Thaliard, behold, here's poison, and here's 
+gold; 
+
+We hate the prince of Tyre, and thou must 
+kill him: 
+
+It fits thee not to ask the reason why, 
+
+Because we bid it. Say, is it done? 
+
+
+Thal, My lord, 
+‘Tis done. 
+Ant, Enough. 166 
+
+
+Enter a Messenger. 
+Let your breath cool yourself, telling your 
+
+
+haste. 
+Mess. My lord, prince Pericles is fled. [Exzi. 
+Ant. As thou 
+
+
+Wilt live, fly after: and like an arrow shot 
+
+From a well-experienced archer hits the mark 
+
+His eye doth level at, so thou ne'er return 
+
+Unless thou say ‘Prince Pericles is dead.’ 
+Thal. My lord, 
+
+If I can get him within my pistol’s length, 
+I'l] make him sure enough: so, farewell to 
+your highness. 
+
+Ant. Thaliard, adieu! 
+Pericles be dead, 
+My heart can lend no succour to my head. 
+[Exii. 
+Tyre. A room in the palace. 
+Enter PERICLES. 
+
+
+Per. [To Lords without] Let none disturb 
+us.— Why should this change of thoughts, 
+The sad companion, dull-eyed melancholy, 
+Be my so used a guest as not an hour, 
+
+
+[Exit Thal.] Till 
+170 
+
+
+Scene II. 
+
+
+J In the day’s glorious walk, or peaceful nighi. 
+
+
+The tomb where grief should sleep, can breec 
+me quiet? 
+Here pleasures court mine eyes, and mine 
+eyes shun them, 
+And danger, which I fear'd, is at Antioch, 
+Whose’ arm seems far too short fo hit me here: 
+Yet neither pleasure’s art can joy my spirits. 
+Nor yet the other's distance comfort-me. 10 
+Then it is thus: the passions of the mind, 
+That have their first conception by mis-dread, 
+Have after-nourishment and life by care; 
+And what was first but fear what might be 
+done, 
+Grows elder now and cares it be not done. 
+And so with me: the great Antiochus, 
+*"Gainst whom I am too little. to contend, 
+Since he's so great can make his will his act, 
+Will think me speaking, though I swear to 
+s lence; 
+Nor boots it me to say-I honour him, 
+If he suspect I may dishonour him: 
+And what may make him blush in being 
+known, x 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+known; 
+
+With hostile forces he ‘lI o’erspread the land, 
+
+Aad with the ostent of war will look so huge, 
+
+Amazement shall drive courage from the state; 
+
+Our men be vanquish’d ere they do resist, 
+
+And subjects pun'sh’d that ne'er thought 
+offence: 
+
+Which care of them, not pity of myself, 
+
+Who am no more but as the tops of trees, 30 
+
+Which fence the roots they grow by and de- 
+fend them, 
+
+Makes both my body pine and soul to lan- 
+guish, 
+
+And punish that before that he would punish. 
+
+Enter HELICANus, with other Lorps. 
+
+
+First Lord. Joy and all comfort in your 
+sacred breast! 
+Sec. Lord. And keep your mind, till you 
+return to us, 
+Peaceful and comfortable! 
+Hel. Peace, peace, and give experience 
+tongue. 
+They do abuse the king that flatter him: 
+For flattery is the bellows blows up sin; 
+The thing the which is flatter’d, but a spark, 40 
+To which that blast gives heat and stronger 
+glowing; 
+Whereas reproof, obedient and in order, 
+Fits kings, as they are men, for they may err. 
+When Signior Sooth here does proclaim a 
+peace, 
+He flatters you, makes war upon your life. 
+Prince, pardon me, or strike me, if you please; 
+I cannot be much lower than my knees. 
+Per. All leave us else; but let your cares 
+oerlook 
+What shipping and what lading 's in our haven, 
+And then return to us. [Exeunt Lords.] 
+Helicanus, thou 50 
+Hast moved us: what seest thou in our looks? 
+Hel. An angry brow, dread lord. 
+Per. If there be such a dart in princes’ 
+frowns, 
+How durst thy tongue move anger to our face? 
+Hel. How dare the plants look up to 
+heaven, from whence 
+They have their nourishment? 
+Per. Thou know’st I have power 
+To take thy life from thee. 
+Hel. [Kneeling] 1 have ground the axe 
+myself ; 
+Do you but strike the blow. 
+er. Rise, prithee, rise. 
+Sit down: thou art no flatterer: 60 
+I thank thee for it; and heaven forbid 
+That kings should let their ears hear their 
+faults hid! 
+
+
+PERICLES 
+
+
+He'll stop the course by which it might be 
+
+
+Fit counsellor and servant for a prince, 
+
+Who by thy wisdom makest a prince th 
+servant, , 
+
+What wouldst thou have me do? 
+
+
+Hel. To bear with patience 
+Such griefs as you yourself do lay upon — 
+yourself, a 
+Per. Thou speak’st like a physician, Heli- — 
+canus, ; 
+
+
+That minister’st a potion unto me 
+That thou wouldst tremble to receive thyself, — 
+Attend me, then: I went to Antioch, 70:4 
+Where as thou know’st, against the face of © 
+death, 
+I sought the purchase of a glorious beauty, 
+From whence an issue I might propagate, 
++ Are arms to princes, and bring joys to 
+subjects. : 
+Her face was to mine eye beyond all wonder; _ 
+The rest—hark in thine ear—as black as incest: “f 
+Which by my knowledge found, the sinful 
+father : 
+Seem’d not to strike, but smooth: but thou _ 
+know’st this, ag 
+"Tis time to fear when tyrants seem to kiss. 
+Which fear so grew in me, I hither fled, 80 
+Under the covering of a careful night, 
+Who seem'd my good protector; and, being © 
+here, 
+Bethought me what was 
+succeed, 
+I knew him tyrannous; and tyrants’ fears 
+Decrease not, but grow faster than the years: 
+And should hesdoubt it, as no doubt he doth, 
+That I should open to the listening air ae 
+How many worthy princes’ bloods were shed, — 
+To keep his bed of blackness unlaid ope)" 
+To lop that doubt, he ‘Il fill this land with arms, — 
+And make pretence of wrong that I have done 
+him; M2) 
+When all, for mine, if I may call offence, 
+Must feel war's blow, who ‘spares not inno=* 
+cence: 
+Which love to all, of which thyself art one, 
+Who now reprovest me for it-— 
+
+
+Hel. Alas, sir! 
+
+
+past, what might 4 
+
+
+Per. Drew sleep out of mine eyes, blood - 
+from my cheeks, ; 
+Musings into my mind, with thousand doubts 
+How I might stop this tempest ere it came; 
+And finding little comfort to relieve them, 
+I thought it princely charity to grieve them. — 
+Hel. Well, my lord, since you have given © 
+me leave to speak, } 
+Freely will I speak. Antiochus you fear, 
+And justly too, I think, you fear the tyrant, 
+Who either by public war or private treason 
+Will take away your life. ee. 
+Therefore, my lord, go travel for a while, 
+
+
+Till that his rage and anger be forgot, 
+Or till the Destin‘es do cut his thread of life. 
+Your rule direct to any; if to me, 
+Day serves not light more faithful than I ‘Il be. 
+Per. 1 do not doubt thy faith; 11 
+But should he wrong my liberties in my 
+absence ? 
+Hel. We'll mingle our bloods together in 
+the earth, 
+From whence we had our being and our birth. 
+Per. Tyre, I now look from thee then, 
+and to Tarsus 
+Intend my travel, where I ‘ll hear from thee; 
+And by whose letters I'll dispose myself. 
+The care I had and have of subjects’ good 
+On thee I lay, whose wisdom’s strength can 
+
+
+bear it. 
+I'll take thy word for faith, not ask thine 
+‘ oath: 
+“Who shuns not to break one will sure crack 
+both: 121 
+
+
+But in our orbs we ‘Il live so round and safe, 
+
+
+That time of both this truth shall ne'er con- 
+
+
+‘ vince, 
+Thou show'dst a subject's shine, I a true 
+prince. [Exeuni. 
+
+
+Scene III. Tyre. An ante-chamber in the 
+
+
+Palace. 
+Enter THALIARD. 
+
+
+Thal. So, this is Tyre, and this the court. 
+Here must I kill King Pericles; and if I do 
+_ it not, I am sure to be hanged at home: ‘tis 
+
+dangerous. Well, I perce.ve he was a wise 
+
+fellow, and had good discretion, that, being 
+bid to ask what he would of the king, desired 
+he might know none of his secrets: now do 
+
+I see he had some reason fort; for if a king 
+
+bid a man be a villain, he’s bound by the in- 
+
+denture of his oath to be one. Hush! here 
+
+come the lords of Tyre. 10 
+
+
+Enter Heicanus and Escanes, with other 
+Lords of Tyre. 
+
+
+_. Hel. You shall not need, my fellow peers 
+of Tyre, 
+Further to question me of your king’s de- 
+parture: > 
+His seal’d commission, left in trust with me, 
+Doth speak sufficiently he’s gone to travel. 
+Thal. [Aside] How! the king gone! 
+_ Hel, lf further yet you will be satisfied, 
+Why, as it were unlicensed of your loves, 
+He would depart, I "Il give some light unto you. 
+Being at Antioch 
+Thal. [-4side] What from Antioch? 
+Hel. Royal Antiochus—on what cause I 
+know not— 20 
+
+
+PERICLES 
+
+
+1221- 
+
+
+Took some displeasure at him; at least he 
+judged so: 
+And doubting lest that he had err’d or sinn‘d, 
+To show his sorrow, he ‘ld correct himself; 
+So puts himself unto the shipman’s toil, 
+With whom each minute threatens life or 
+death. 
+Thal. [Aside] Well, I perceive 
+I shall not be hang’d now, although I would; 
+But since he’s gone, + the king’s seas must 
+please: 
+He ’scaped the land, to perish at the sea. 
+I'll present myself. Peace to the lords of 
+
+
+Tyre! 30 
+Hel. Lord Thaliard from Antiochus is 
+welcome. 
+
+
+Thal. From him I come 
+With message unto princely Pericles; 
+But since my landing I have understood 
+Your lord has betook himself to unknown 
+travels, 
+My message must return from whence it came. 
+Hel. We have no reason to desire it, 
+Commended to our master, not to us: 
+Yet, ere you shall depart, this we desire, 39 
+As friends to Antioch, we may feast in Tyre. 
+[Exeuni, 
+
+
+Scene IV. Tarsus. A reom in the 
+Governor's house, 
+
+
+Enter CLEON, the governor of Tarsus, with 
+Dionyza, and others. 
+
+
+Cle. My Dionyza, shall we rest us here, 
+And by relating tales of others’ griefs, 
+See if ‘twill teach us to forget our own? 
+Dio. That were to blow at fire in hope to 
+quench it; 
+For who digs hills because they do aspire 
+Throws down one mountain to cast up a higher. 
+O my disiressed lord, even such our griefs are; 
+Here theyre but felt, and seen with mis- 
+chief's eyes, 
+But like to groves, being topp'd, they higher 
+rise. 
+Cleo. O Dionyza, 16 
+Who wanteth food, and will not say he wants 
+it, 
+Or can conceal his hunger till he famish? 
+Our tongues and sorrows do sound deep 
+Our woes into the air; our eyes do weep, 
+Till tongues fetch breath that may proclaim 
+them louder; 
+That, if heaven slumber while their creatures 
+want, 
+They may awake their helps to comfort them. 
+I ‘ll then discourse our woes, felt several years, 
+And wanting breath to speak help me with 
+tears. 
+20 
+
+
+Dio. I'll do my best, sir. 
+
+
+1222 
+
+
+Cle. Th’s Tarsus, o’er which I have the 
+government, ' 
+A city on whom plenty held full hand, 
+For riches strew'd herself even in the streets; 
+Whose towers bore heads so high they kiss’d 
+the clouds, 
+And strangers ne’er beheld but wonder'd at; 
+Whose men and ‘dames so jetted and adorn’d, 
+Like one another's glass to trim them by: 
+Their tables were stored full, to glad the sight, 
+And not so mvch to feed on as delight; 
+All poverty was scorn’d, and pride so great, 
+The name of help grew odious to repeat. 
+Dio. O, ‘tis too true. 
+Cle. But see what heaven can do! 
+our change, 
+These mouths, who but of late, earth, sea, 
+ard air, 
+Were all too little to content and please, 
+Althougl they gave their creatures in abun- 
+ance, 
+As houses are defiled for want of use, 
+They are now starved for want of exerc’se: 
+Those palates who, not yet two summers 
+younger, 
+Must have inventions ‘to delight the taste, 40 
+Would now be. glad of bread, and beg: for it: 
+Those mothers who, to nousle up their babes, 
+Thought nought too curious, are ready now 
+To eat those little darlings whom they loved. 
+So sharp are hunger’s teeth, that man and wife 
+Draw lots who first shall die to lengthen life: 
+Here stands a lord, and there a lady weeping; 
+Here many sink, yet those which see them fall 
+Have scarce strength left to give them burial. 
+Is not this true? 59 
+Dio. Our cheeks and hollow eyes do wit- 
+ness it, 
+Cle. O, let those cities that of plenty's cup 
+And her prosperities so largely taste, 
+With their superflous riots, hear ‘these tears! 
+The misery of Tarsus may be theirs, 
+
+
+Enter a Lord. 
+
+
+Lord. Where’s the lord governor? 
+Cle. Here. 
+Speak out thy sorrows which thou bring’st in 
+haste, 
+For comfort is too far for us to expect. 
+Lord. We have descried, upon our neigh- 
+bouring shore, 
+A portly sail of ships make hitherward. 
+Cle. I thought as much, 
+One sorrow never comes but brings an heir, 
+That may succeed as his inheritor; 
+And so in ours: some neighbouring nation, 
+Taking advantage of our misery, 
+Hath stuff'd these hollow vessels with their 
+power, 
+
+
+By this 
+
+
+PERICLES 
+
+
+[Acr I, Sc. IV 
+
+
+To beat us down, the which are down already; 
+And make a conquest of unhappy me, 
+Whereas no glory 's got to overcome. 70 
+Lord. That's the least fear; for, by the 
+semblance 
+Of their white flags display'd, they bring us 
+peace, 
+And come to us as favourers, not as foes. 
+Cle. Thou speak’st like him's untutor'd to 
+
+
+repeat: ; 
+ho makes the fairest show means most 
+deceit. 
+But bring they what they will and what they 
+can, 
+
+
+What need we fear? 
+The ground's the lowest, and we are half 
+way there. 
+Go tell their general we attend him here, 
+To know for what he comes, and whence he 
+comes, 80 
+And what he craves. ; 
+Lord. I go, my lord, [Exit 
+Cle, Welcome is peace, if he on peace 
+consist; 
+If wars, we are unable to resist. 
+
+
+Enter PericLes with Attendants, 
+
+
+Per. Lord governor, for so we hear you are, 
+Let not our ships and number of our men 
+Be like a beacon fired to amaze your eyes. 
+We have heard your m'series as far as Tyre, 
+And seen the desolation of your streets: 
+Nor come we to add sorrow to your tears, 90. 
+But to relieve them of their heavy load; 
+And these our ships, you happily may think 
+Are like the Trojan horse was stuff’d within 
+With bloody veins, expecting overthrow, 
+Are stored with corn to make your needy bread, 
+onde them life whom hunger starved half 
+
+ead. 
+
+All. The gods of Greece protect you! 
+And we'll pray for you. 
+
+Per. Arise, I pray you, rise: 
+We do not look for reverence, but for love, 99 
+And harbourage for ourself, our ships, and 
+
+
+ed 
+
+
+men. ; 
+Cle. The which when any shall not gratify, 
+Or pay you with unthankfulness in thought, 
+Be it our wives, our children, or ourselves, 
+The ans of heaven and men succeed their 
+evils! A 
+Till when,—the which I hope shall ne'er be 
+seen,— 
+Your grace is welcome to our town and us, 
+Per, Which welcome we ‘ll accept; feast 
+here awhile, 
+Until our stars that frown lend us a smile. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+ Acr Il, Sc. I] 
+
+
+ACT II, 
+Enter Gower. 
+
+Gow. Here have you seen a mighty king 
+His child, I wis, to incest bring; 
+A better prince and benign lord, 
+That will prove awful both in deed and 
+
+word. 
+Be quiet then as men should be, 
+Till he hath pass'd necessity. 
+Ill show you those in. troubles reign, 
+Losing a mite, a mountain gain. 
+The good in conversation, 
+To whom I give my benison, 
+Is still at Tarsus, where each man 
+Thinks all is writ he speken can; 
+And, to remember what he does, 
+Build his statue to make him glorious: 
+But tidings to the contrary 
+Are brought your eyes; what need speak I? 
+
+
+Dumps SuHow. 
+
+
+Enter at one door PericLes falking with 
+CLEON; all the train with them. Enter at 
+another door a Gentleman, with a letter to 
+PericLes; PericLes shows the letler to 
+CLEON; gives the Messenger a reward, and 
+knighis him. Exit PERICLES at one, door, 
+and CLEON al another. 
+
+Good Helicane, that stay’d at home. 
+
+Not to eat honey like a drone 
+
+From others’ labours; for though he strive 
+
+To killen bad, keep good alive; 20 
+
+And to fulfil his prince’ desire, 
+
+Sends word of all that haps in Tyre: 
+
+How Thaliard came full bent with sin 
+
+And had intent to murder him; 
+
+And that in Tarsus was not best 
+
+Longer for him to make his rest. 
+
+He, doing so, put forth to seas, 
+
+Where when men been, there's seldom ease; 
+
+For now the wind begins to blow; 
+
+Thunder above‘ and ‘deeps below 30 
+
+Make such unquiet, that the ship 
+
+Should house him safe is wreck’d and split; 
+
+And he, good prince, having all lost, 
+
+By waves from coast to coast is tost: 
+
+All perishen of man, of pelf, 
+
+Ne aught escapen but himself; 
+
+Till fortune, tired with doing bad, 
+
+Threw him ashore, to give him glad: 
+
+And here he comes. What shall be next, 
+
+Pardon old Gower,—this longs the text. 40 
+[Exit. 
+
+
+Scene I. Pentapolis. An open place by the 
+sea-side. 
+Enter PERICLES, wet. 
+Per. Yet cease your ire, you angry stars of 
+heaven! 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+PERICLES 
+
+
+1223 
+
+
+Wind, rain, and thunder, remember, earthly 
+man 
+
+Is but a substance that must yield to you; 
+
+And I, as fits my nature, do obey you: 
+
+Alas, the sea hath cast me on the rocks, 
+
+Wash'd me from shore to shore, and left me 
+breath 
+
+Nothing to think on but ensuing death: 
+
+Let it suffice the greatness of your powers 
+
+To have bereft a prince of all his fortunes; 
+
+And having thrown him from your watery 
+grave, 10 
+
+Here to have death in peace is all he ‘Il crave. 
+
+
+Enter three Fishermen, 
+
+
+First Fish. What, ho, Pilch! 
+
+Sec, Fish. Ha, come and bring away the 
+nets! 
+
+First Fish. What, Patch-breech, I say! 
+
+Third Fish. What say you, master? 
+
+First Fish. Look how thou stirrest now! 
+come away, or I ‘Il fetch thee with a wanion. 
+
+Third Fish, ‘Faith, master, I am thinking 
+of the poor men that were cast away before us 
+even now. 
+
+First Fish. Alas, poor souls, it grieved my 
+heart to. hear what pitiful cries they made to 
+us to help them, when, well-a-day, we could 
+scarce help ourselves. 
+
+Third Fish. Nay, master, said not I as 
+much when | saw the porpus how he bounced 
+and tumbled? they say they ‘re half fish, half 
+flesh: a plague on them, they ne'er come but 
+I look to be washed. Master, I marvel how 
+the fishes live in the sea. 30 
+
+First Fish. Why, as men do a-land; the 
+great ones eat up the little ones: I can com- 
+pare our rich misers to nothing so fitly as to 
+a whale; a’ plays and tumbles, driving the 
+poor fry before him, and at last devours them 
+all at a mouthful: such whales have I heard 
+on o' the land, who never ‘leave’ gaping till 
+they ‘ve swallowed the whole parish, church, 
+steeple, bells, and all. 
+
+Per. [Aside] A pretty moral. 
+
+Third Fish. But, master, if I had been the 
+sexton, I would have been that day in the 
+belfry. 4| 
+
+Sec. Fish. Why, man? 
+
+Third Fish. Because he should have swal- 
+lowed me too; and when I had been in his 
+belly, I would have kept such a jangling of 
+the bells, that he should never have left, till 
+he cast bells, steeple, church, and parish, up 
+again. But if the good King Simonides were 
+of my mind,— 
+
+Per. [Aside] Simonides! 49 
+
+Third Fish. We would purge the land of 
+these drones, that rob the bee of her honey. 
+
+
+1224 PERICLES | [Acr II, Sc. 1 
+
+
+Sa ee ee ~ 
+Vf. We Bae Sa eae 
+é oine* ct 
+
+
+Per. [Aside} How from the finny subject 
+of the sea 
+These fishers tell the infirmities of men; 
+And from the'r watery empire recollect 
+All that may men approve or men detect! 
+Peace be at your labour, honest fishermen. 
+
+Sec. Fish. Honest! good fellow, what ’s that? 
+If it be a day fits you, fsearch out of the 
+calendar, and nobody look after it. 
+
+Per. May see the sea hath cast upon your 
+
+coast. 
+
+Sec. Fish. What a drunken knave was the 
+sea to cast thee in our way! 
+
+Per. A man whom both the waters and the 
+
+wind, 
+In that vast tennis-court, have made the ball 
+For them to play upon, entreats you pity 
+him; 
+He asks of you, that never used to beg. 
+
+First- Fish. No, friend, cannot you beg? 
+Here's them in our country of Greece gets 
+more with begging than we can do = w.th 
+working. 
+
+Sec. Fish. Canst thou catch any fishes, then? 
+
+Per. 1 never practised it. 7\ 
+
+Sec. Fish. Nay, then thou wilt starve, sure; 
+for here's nothing to be got now-a-days, un- 
+less thou canst fish fort. 
+
+Per. What I have been I have forgot to 
+
+know; 
+But what I am want teaches me to think on: 
+A man throng'd up with cold: my veins are 
+chill, 
+And have no more of life than may suffice 
+To give my tongue that heat to ask your help; 
+Which if you shall refuse, when I am dead, 
+For that | am a man, pray see me bur'ed. 
+
+First Fish, Die quoth-a? Now gods for- 
+bid! .I have a gown here; come, put it on; 
+keep thee warm. Now, afore me, a handsome 
+fellow! Come, thou shalt go home, and we'll 
+have flesh for holidays, fish for fasting-days, 
+and moreo’er puddings and flap-jacks, and 
+thou shalt be welcome. 
+
+Per, 1 thank you, sir. 
+
+Sec. Fish. Hark you, my friend; you said 
+you could not beg. 90 
+
+Per. I did but crave. 
+
+Sec. Fish. But crave! Then {Il turn 
+craver too, and so I shall ‘scape whipping. 
+
+Per. Why, are all your beggars whipped, 
+
+then? 
+
+Sec. Fish. O, not all, my friend, not all; 
+for if all your beggars were whipped, I would 
+wish no better office than to be beadle. But, 
+master, I'll go draw up the net. 
+
+[Exit with Third Fisherman. 
+
+Per. [Aside] How well this honest mirth 
+
+
+becomes their labour ! 
+
+
+First Fish. Hark you, sir, do you know | 
+where ye are? : 101 
+
+Per, Not well. 
+
+First Fish. Why, I'll tell you: this is 
+called Pentapolis, and our king the good 
+Simon des. 
+
+Per. The good King Simonides, do you 
+call him? 
+
+First Fish. Ay, sir; and he deserves so to 
+be called for his peaceable reign and good 
+government. 
+
+Per. He is a happy king, since he gains 
+from his subjects the name of good by his _ 
+government. How far is his court distant 
+from this shore? VW 
+
+First Fish. Marry, sir, half a day's jour- 
+ney: and I'Il tell you, he hath a fair daugh- 
+ter, and to-morrow is her birth-day; and 
+there are princes and knights come from all 
+ee of the world to just and tourney for her 
+ove. 
+
+Per. Were my fortunes equal to my de- 
+sires, I could wish to make one there. 
+
+First Fish. O, sir, things must be as they 
+may; and what a man cannot get, he may 
+lawfully deal for—+ his wife’s soul. 121 
+
+
+Re-enter Second and Third Fishermen, 
+
+
+drawing up a net. 
+
+
+Sec. Fish. Help, master, help! here's a 
+fish hangs in the net, like a poor man’s right 
+in the law; ‘twill hardly come out. Ha! 
+bots ont, ‘tis come at last, and ‘tis turned 
+to a rusty armeur, 
+
+Per. An armour, friends! I pray you, let 
+
+me see it. 
+
+Thanks, fortune, yet, that, after all my crosses, 
+
+Thou givest me somewhat to repair myself; 
+
+And though it was mine own, part of my 
+heritage, 
+
+Which my dead father did bequeath to me, _ 
+
+With this strict charge, even as he left his life... 
+
+‘Keep it, my Pericles; it hath been a shield — 
+
+"Twixt me and death;’—and pointed to. this 
+brace ;— ] 
+
+‘For that it saved me, keep it; in like 
+necessity— 4 
+
+The which the gods protect thee from!—may _ 
+defend thee.’ 
+
+It kept where I kept, I so dearly loved it; 
+
+Till the rough seas, that spare not any man, 
+
+Took it in rage, though calm’d haye given ’t 
+again: 
+
+I thank thee for 't: my shipwreck now’s no ill, a 
+
+Since I have here my father’s gift in's will. 
+
+First Fish. What mean you, sir? 
+Per. To beg of you, kind friends, this coat — 
+
+of worth, 
+
+For it was sometime target to a king; 
+
+
+~ Act Il, Se. HW] 
+
+
+ott Pagel. 
+ee as 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+“ 
+
+
+rae 
+
+
+PERICLES 
+
+
+1225 
+
+
+I know it by this mark. He loved me dearly, 
+
+
+And for his sake I wish the having of it; 
+And that you ‘ld guide me to your sovereign’s 
+court, 
+Where with it I may appear a gentleman; 
+And if that ever my low fortune 's better, 
+I'll pay your bounties; till then rest your 
+debtor. 
+First Fish. Why, wilt thou tourney for the 
+dady > 150 
+Per. I'll show the virtue I have borne in 
+arms. 
+First Fish. Why, do’e take it, and the 
+gods give thee good on't! 
+Sec. Fish. Ay, but hark you, my friend; 
+
+
+twas we that made up this garment through 
+
+
+the rough seams of the waters: there are 
+certain condolements, certain vails. I hope, 
+
+
+sir, if you thrive, you'll remember from 
+
+
+whence you had it. 
+Per. Believe 't, I will. 
+By your furtherance I am clothed in steel; 
+
+
+And, sp'te of all the rapture of the sea, 
+
+
+This jewel holds his building on my arm: 
+Unto thy value I will mount myself 
+
+Upon a courser, whose delightful steps 
+Shall make the gazer joy to see him tread. 
+Only, my friend, I yet am unprovided 
+
+OF a pair of bases. 
+
+Sec. Fish. We'll sure provide: thou shalt 
+have my best gown to make thee a pair; and 
+Ill bring thee to the court myself. 170 
+
+Per. pina honour be but a goal to my 
+
+will, 
+This day I'll rise, or else add ill to ill. 
+[Exeuni. 
+
+
+Scene II. The same. A public way or plat- 
+form leading to the lists. A pavilion by 
+the side of it for the reception of the King, 
+
+_ Princess, Lords, &c. 
+
+
+' Enter Simonipes, TuHatsa, Lords and 
+Attendants. 
+Sim. Are the knights ready to begin the 
+
+
+triumph? 
+First Lord. They are, my liege; 
+And stay your coming to present themselves. 
+Sim. Return them, we are ready; and our 
+daughter, 
+In honour of whose birth these triumphs are, 
+Sits here, like beauty’s child, whom nature gat 
+For men to see, and seeing wonder at. 
+[Exit a Lord. 
+Thai. It pleaseth you, my royal father, to 
+express 
+My commendations great, whose merit’s less. 
+Sim. It’s fit it should be so; for princes are 
+A model, which heaven makes like to itself: 
+As jewels lose their glory if neglected, 
+
+
+So princes their renowns if not respected. 
+‘Tis now your honour, daughter, to explain 
+The labour of each knight in his device. 
+Thai. Which, to preserve mine honour, I ‘ll 
+perform, 
+
+
+Enter a Knight; he passes over, and his 
+Squire presents his shield to the Princess. 
+
+
+pa Who is the first that doth prefer him- 
+self > 
+
+Thai. A knight of Sparta, my renowned 
+
+father; i 
+And the device he bears upon his shield 
+Is a black Ethiope reaching at the sun: 
+The word, ‘Lux tua vita mihi.’ 
+Sim. He loves you well that holds his life 
+of you. 
+[The Second Knight passes over. 
+Who is the second that presents himself? 
+Thai. A prince of Macedon, my royal 
+father; 
+And the device he bears upon his shield 
+Is an arm'd knight that’s conquer’d by a lady; 
+The motto thus, in Spanish, ‘Piu por dulzura 
+que por fuerza.’ 
+[The Third Knight passes over. 
+
+Sim. And what's the third? 
+
+That. The third of Antioch; 
+And his device, a wreath of chivalry; 
+The word, ‘Me pompz provexit apex.’ 30 
+
+[The Fourth Knight passes over. 
+Sim. What is the fourth? 
+Thai. A burning torch that’s turned up- 
+side down; 
+The word, ‘Quod me alit, me extinguit.’ 
+Sim. Which shows that beauty hath his 
+power and will, 
+Which can as well inflame as it can kill. 
+[The Fifth Knight passes over. 
+Thai. The fifth, an hand environed with 
+clouds, 
+Pape or out gold that’s by the touchstone 
+tried; 
+The motto thus, “Sic spectanda fides.” 
+[The Sixth Knight, Pericles, passes over. 
+
+Sim. And what's 
+
+The sixth and last, the which the knight him- 
+self 40 
+With such a graceful courtesy deliver'd? 
+Thai. He seems to be a stranger; but his 
+present is 
+A wither’d branch, that’s only green at top; 
+The motto, ‘In hac spe vivo.’ 
+Sim. A pretty moral; 
+From the dejected state wherein he is, 
+He hopes by you his fortunes yet may flourish. 
+First Lord. He had need mean better than 
+his outward show 
+Can any way speak in his just commend; 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+1226 
+
+
+PERICLES 
+
+
+[Acr II, Sc. II 
+
+
+ee SE 
+
+
+For by his rusty outside he appears 50 
+To have practised more the whipstock than 
+the lance. 
+Sec. Lord. He well may be a stranger, 
+for he comes 
+To an honour'd triumph strangely furnished. 
+Third Lord. And on set purpose let his 
+armour rust 
+Until this day, to scour it in the dust. 
+Sim. Opinion’s but a fool, that makes us 
+scan 
+The outward ‘habit by the inward man. 
+But stay, the knights are coming: we will 
+withdraw 
+Into the gallery. [Exeunt. 
+[Great shouts within, and all cry ‘The 
+mean knight!’ 
+
+
+The same. A hall of slate: 
+a banquet prepared. 
+
+
+Scene III. 
+
+
+Enter Simonipes, Tuatsa, Lords, Attend- 
+ants, and Knights, from tilting. 
+
+
+Sim. Knights, 
+
+To say you're welcome were superfluous. 
+
+To place upon the volume of your deeds, 
+
+As in a title-page, your worth in arms, 
+
+Were more than you expect, or more than’s 
+
+fit, 
+
+Since every worth in show commends itself, 
+
+Prepare for mirth, for mirth becomes a feast: 
+
+You are princes and my guests. 
+
+Thai. But you, my knight and guest; 
+
+_ To whom this wreath of victory I give, 10 
+And crown you king of this day's happiness. 
+Per. ‘Tis more by fortune, lady, than by 
+
+merit. 
+Sim. Call it by what you will, the day is 
+yours; 
+
+And here, I hope, is none that envies it. 
+
+In framing an artist, art hath thus decreed, 
+
+To make some good, but others to exceed; 
+
+And you are her labour'd scholar. Come, 
+
+queen o’ the feast— 
+
+For, daughter, so you are,—here take your 
+
+place: 
+
+Marshal the rest, as they deserve their grace, 
+Knights. We are honour'd much by good 
+
+Simonides. 2¢ 
+Sim. Your presence glads our days; hon- 
+our We love; 
+
+For who hates honour hates the gods above. 
+Marshal. Sir, yonder is your place. 
+
+Per. Some other is more fit. 
+First Knight. Contend not, sir; for we are 
+gentlemen 
+
+That neither in our hearts nor outward eyes 
+
+Envy the great nor do the low despise. 
+
+Per. You are right courteous knights. 
+
+
+Sim. Sit, sir, sit. 
+Per. By Jove, I wonder, that is king of 
+thoughts, 
+These cates resist me, she but thought upon. 
+Thai. By Juno, that is queen of marriage, 
+All viands that I eat do seem unsavoury, 3] 
+Wishing him my meat. Sure, he's a gallant 
+gentleman. 
+Sim. He’s but a country gentleman; 
+Has done no more than other knights have 
+done; 
+Has broken a staff or so; so let it Pass. 
+Thai. To me he seems I.ke diamond to 
+glass. 
+Per. Yon king's to me like to my father’s 
+picture, 
+Which tells me in that glory once he was; 
+Had princes sit, like stars, about his throne, 
+And he the sun, for them to reverence; 40 
+None that beheld him, but, like lesser lights, 
+Did vail their crowns to his supremacy: 
+Where oa his son's like a glow-worm in the 
+nignt, 
+The which hath fire in darkness, 
+Whereby I see that Time's the king of men, 
+He's both their parent, and he is their grave, 
+And gives them what he will, not what they 
+crave. 
+Sim. What, are you merry, knights ? 
+Knights. Who can be other in this royal 
+
+
+none in light: 
+
+
+presence ? 
+S.m. Here, with a cup that’s stored unto 
+the brim,— 50 
+
+
+As you do love, fill to your mistress’ lips,— 
+We drink this health to you. 
+Knights. We thank your grace. 
+Sim. Yet pause awhile: 
+Yon knight doth sit too melancholy, 
+As if the entertainment in our court 
+Had not a show might countervail his worth, 
+Note it not you, Thaisa? 
+
+Thai. What is it 
+To me, my father? 
+
+Sim. O, attend, my daughter: 
+Princes in this should live like gods above, 
+Who freely give to every one that comes 60 
+To honour them: 
+
+And princes not doing so are like to gnats, 
+
+Which make a sound, but kill’d are wonder'd 
+at. 
+
+Therefore to make-his entrance more sweet, 
+
+Here, say we drink this standing-bowl of 
+wine to him. : 
+
+Thai. Alas, my father, it befits not me 
+Unto a stranger knight to be so bold: : 
+He may my proffer take for an offence, 
+Since men take women’s gifts for impudence. 
+
+Sim. How! 
+
+
+Do as I bid you, or you'll move me else. 4 
+
+
+<= 
+
+
+~ Aer Il, Sc. IV] 
+
+
+Thai. [Aside] Now, by the gods, he could 
+not please me better. 
+
+Sim. And furthermore tell him, we desire 
+to know of him, 
+
+Of whence he is, his name and parentage. 
+
+Thai. The king my father, sir, has drunk 
+to you. 
+
+Per, 1 thank him. 
+
+Thai. Wishing it so much blood unto your 
+
+
+life. 
+Per. I thank both him and you, and pledge 
+him freely. 
+Thai. And further he desires to know of 
+you, 
+Of whence you are, your name and parentage. 
+Per, A gentleman of Tyre; my name, 
+Pericles; 
+My education been in arts and arms; 
+. Who, looking for adventures in the world, 
+Was by the rough seas reft of ships and men, 
+And after shipwreck driven upon this shore. 
+Thai. He thanks your grace; names him- 
+self Pericles, 
+A gentleman of Tyre, 
+Who only by misfortune of the seas 
+Bereft of ships and men, cast on this shore. 
+Sim. Now, by the gods, I pity his mis- 
+fortune, 90 
+And will awake him from his melancholy. 
+Come, gentlemen, we sit too long on trifles, 
+And waste the time, which looks for other 
+revels. 
+Even in your armours, as you are address'd, 
+Will very well become a soldier's dance. 
+I will not have excuse, with saying this 
+Loud music is too harsh for ladies’ heads 
+Since they love men in arms as well as beds. 
+[The Knights dance. 
+So, this was well ask'’d, ‘twas so well per- 
+form'd.. 
+Come, sir; 100 
+Here is a lady which wants breathing too: 
+And I have heard, you knights of Tyre 
+Are excellent in making ladies trip; 
+And that their measures are as excellent. 
+Per. In those that practise them they are, 
+my lord. 
+Sim. O, that’s as much as you would be 
+denied 
+Of your fair courtesy. 
+[The Knights and Ladies dance. 
+Unclasp, unclasp: 
+Thanks, gentlemen, to all; all have done well, 
+[To Per.] But you the best. Pages and 
+lights, to conduct 
+These knights unto their several lodgings! 
+[To Per.] Yours, sir, 110 
+e have given order to be next our own. 
+“Per. I am at your grace’s pleasure. 
+
+
+PERICLES 
+
+
+1227 
+
+
+Sim. Princes, it is too late to talk of love; 
+And that’s the mark | know you level at: 
+Therefore each one betake him to his rest; 
+To-morrow all for speeding do their best. 
+
+[Exeuni, 
+
+
+Scene IV. Tyre. A room in the 
+
+
+Governor's house. 
+Enter HELICANUS and ESCANEs. 
+
+
+Hel. No, Escanes, know this of me, 
+Antiochus from incest lived not free: 
+For which, the most high gods not minding 
+longer 
+To withhold the vengeance that they had in 
+store, 
+Due to this heinous capital offence, 
+Even in the height and pride of all his glory, 
+When he was seated in a chariot 
+Of an inestimable value, and his daughter 
+with him, 
+Ay fire from heaven came and shrivell’d up 
+Their bodies, even o loathing; for they so 
+stunk, 10 
+That all those eyes adored them ere their fall 
+Scorn now their hand should give them burial. 
+Esca. "Twas very strange. 
+Hel. And yet but justice; for though 
+This king were great, his greatness was no 
+guard 
+To bar heaven's shaft, but sin had his reward. 
+Esca, “Tis very true. 
+
+
+Enter two or three Lords. 
+
+
+First Lord. See, not a man in private 
+conference 
+Or council has respect with him but he. 
+Sec. Lord. It shall no longer grieve with- 
+out reproof, 
+Third Lord. And cursed be he that will 
+not second it. 20 
+First Lord. Follow me, then. Lord Heli- 
+cane, a word, 
+Hel. With me? and welcome: happy day, 
+my lords. 
+First Lord. Know that our griefs are risen 
+to the top, 
+And now at length they overflow their banks. 
+Hel. Your griefs! for what? wrong not 
+your prince you love. 
+First Lord. Wrong not 
+noble Helicane; 
+But if the prince do live, let us salute him, 
+Or know what ground ’s made happy by his 
+breath. 
+If in the world he live, we ‘ll seek him out; 
+If in his grave he rest, we ‘ll find him there; 
+And be resolved he lives to govern us, 
+Or dead, give’s cause to mourn his funeral, 
+And leave us to our free election. 
+
+
+yourself, then, 
+
+
+1228 
+
+
+Sec. Lord. Whose death 
+strongest in our censure: 
+And knowing th’s kingdom is without a head,— 
+Like goodly bu Idings left without a roof 
+Soon fall to ruin,—your noble self, 
+That best know how to rule and how to reign, 
+We thus submit unto—our sovereign. 
+All, Live, noble Helicane! 40 
+Hel. For honour’s cause, forbear your suf- 
+frages: 
+If that you love Prince Pericles, forbear. 
+Take I your wish, I leap into the seas, 
+Where’s hourly trouble for a minute’s ease. 
+A twelve month longer, let me entreat you to 
+Forbear the absence of your king; 
+If in which time expired, he not return, 
+U shall with aged patience bear your yoke. 
+But if I cannot win you to this love, 
+Go search like nobles, like noble subjects, 50 
+And in your search spend your adventurous 
+worth; 
+Whom if you find, and win unto return, 
+You shall like diamonds sit about his crown. 
+First Lord. To wisdom he’s a fool that 
+will not yield; 
+And since Lord Helicane enjoineth ts, 
+We with our travels will endeavour us. 
+Hel, Then you love us, we you, and we ‘ll 
+clasp hands: 
+When peers thus knit, a kingdom ever stands. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene V. Pentapolis. A room in the palace. 
+
+
+Enter Simones, reading a letter. al one 
+door: the Knights meet him. 
+
+
+First Knight. Good morrow to the good 
+Simonides. 
+Sim. Knights, from my daughter this I let 
+you know, 
+That for this twelvemonth she ‘ll not undertake 
+A married life. 
+er reason to herself is only known, 
+Which yet from her by no means can | get. 
+Sec. Knight. May we not get access to her, 
+my- lord > 
+Sim. ‘Faith, by no means; she hath so 
+strictly tied 
+Her to her chamber, that 'tis impossible, 
+One twelve moons more she ‘ll wear Diana's 
+livery; 10 
+This by the eye of Cynthia hath she vow'd, 
+And on her virgin honour will not break it. 
+Third Knight. Lath to bid farewell, we 
+take our leaves. [Exeunt Knights. 
+Sim. So, 
+They are well dispatch'd; now to my daugh- 
+ter’s letter: 
+She tells me here, she'll wed the stranger 
+knight, 
+
+
+indeed 's the 
+
+
+PERICLES 
+
+
+Or never more to view nor day nor light, 
+
+"Tis well, mistress; your choice agrees with — 
+mine; 
+
+I like that well: nay, how absolute she ‘s in ef 
+
+Not minding whether I dislike or no! 20 
+
+Well, I do commend her choice; 
+
+And will no longer have it delay'd. 
+
+Soft! here he comes: I must dissemble it. 
+
+
+Enier PERICLEs. 
+
+Per. All fortune to the good Simonides! 
+
+Sim. To you as much, sir! I am behold- ; 
+
+ing to you g 
+For your sweet music this last night: I do 
+Protest my ears were never better fed 
+With such delightful pleasing harmony. 
+
+er. It is your grace’s pleasure to com- 
+
+mend; 
+Not my desert. 
+
+- Sim. Sir, you are music’s master. 30 
+
+Per. The worst of all her scholars, my 
+
+good lord. 
+
+Sim. Let me ask you one thing: 
+What.do you think of my daughter, sir? 
+
+Per. A most virtuous princess. 
+
+Sim. And she is fair too, is she not? 
+
+8 As a fair day in summer, wondrous — 
+
+fair. 
+
+Sim. Sir, my daughter thinks very well of 
+
+you; 
+
+Ay, so well, that you must be her master, 
+And she will be your scholar: therefore look _ 
+to it. * ; 
+
+Per. I am unworthy for her schoolmaster. 
+
+Sim. She thinks not so; peruse this writing — 
+
+else. 4] 
+
+Per. [Aside] What's here? 
+A letter, that she loves the knight of Tyre! 
+‘Tis the king’s subtilty to have my life. 
+
+O, seek not to entrap me, gracious lord, 
+
+A stranger and distressed gentleman, ~* 
+That never aim'd so high to love your daughter, — 
+But bent all offices to honour her. f 7 
+
+Sim. Thou hast bewitch’d my daughter, 
+
+and thou art 
+A. villain. 
+
+Per. By the gods, I have not: 
+Never did thought of mine levy offence; 
+Nor never did my actions yet commence 
+A deed might ga'n her love or your displeasure, 
+
+Sim. Traitor, thou liest. 
+
+
+50° 
+
+
+Per, Traitor! 
+Sim. Ay, traitor. — 
+Per. Even in his throat—unless it be the 
+
+
+king— 
+That calls me traitor, I return the lie. 
+Sim. [Aside] Now, by the gods, I do 
+
+
+applaud his courage. 
+
+
+i 
+i 
+i 
+
+
+t Acer 
+
+
+\. 
+
+
+PERICLES 
+
+
+1229 
+
+
+noble as my 
+
+
+60 
+
+
+Per. My actions are as 
+thoughts, 
+That never relish’d of a base descent. 
+I came unto your court for honour’s cause, 
+And not to be a rebel to her state; 
+And he that otherwise accounts of me, 
+This sword shall prove he’s honour’s enemy. 
+Sim. No? 
+
+
+Here comes my daughter, she can witness it. 
+Enter Tuaisa. 
+
+
+Per. Then, as you are as virtuous as fair, 
+Resolve your angry father, if my tongue 
+Did e’er so'icit, or my hand subscribe 
+To any syllable that made love to you. 
+
+That. Why, sir, say if you had, 
+Who takes offence at that would make me 
+
+glad? 
+
+Sim. Yea, mistress, are you so peremptory > 
+[Aside] I am ‘glad on’t with all my heart.— 
+I'll tame you; I'll bring you in subjection, 
+Will you, not ‘having. my consent, 
+
+Bestow your love and your affections 
+
+
+70 
+
+
+Upon a ‘stranger? [Aside] who, for aught | 
+
+
+know, 
+
+
+May be, nor can I think the contrary, 
+
+
+As great in blood as. myself.— 80 
+
+
+_ Therefore hear you, mistress; either frame 
+
+
+Your will to mine,—and you, sir, hear you, 
+Either be ruled by me, or | will make you— 
+Man and wife: 
+Nay, come, your hands and lips must seal it 
+too: 
+And being join’d, I'll thus your hopes destroy ; 
+And for a further grief,—God give. you 
+joy !— 
+What, are you both pleased > 
+Thai. Yes, if you love me, sir. 
+Per. Even as» my life my blood that fos- 
+ters. it. 
+Sim. What, are you both agreed? 90 
+Both. Yes, if. it please your majesty. 
+Sim. It pleaseth me so well, that I will see 
+
+
+you wed; 
+And then with what haste you can get you to 
+bed. - [Exeunt. 
+
+
+ACT III. 
+Enter Gower. 
+
+
+Gow. Now sleep yslaked hath the rout; 
+No din but snores the house about, 
+Made louder by the o’er-fed breast 
+Of this most pompous marriage-feast. 
+The cat, wth eyne of burning coal, 
+
+Now couches fore the mouse’s hole; 
+And crickets sing at the oven’s mouth, 
+
+
+E’er the blither for their drouth. 
+Hymen hath brought the bride to bed, 
+
+
+Where, by the loss of maidenhead, 10 
+A babe is moulded. Be attent, 
+
+And time that is so briefly spent 
+
+With your fine fancies quaintly eche: 
+
+
+What's dumb in show I 'Il plain with speech, 
+Dumps SuHow. 
+
+
+Enter, PErRIcLES and SIMONIDES, af one 
+door, with Attendants; a Messenger meets 
+them, kneels, and gives PERICLES a letter: 
+PericLes shows it Simoniwes; the Lords 
+kneel to him. Then enter’ Triaisa with 
+child, with LycHorma a nurse. The 
+Kine shows her the letter; she rejoices: 
+she and PeEricLes take leave of her fa- 
+ther, and depart with Lycuorwa and their 
+Attendants. Then exeunt SimonweEs and 
+the rest. 
+
+
+By many a dern and painful perch 
+
+Of Pericles the careful search, 
+
+By the four opposing coigns 
+
+Which the world together joins, 
+
+Is made with all due diligence 
+
+That horse and sail and high expense 20 
+Can stead the quest. At last from Tyre, 
+Fame answering the most strange inquire, 
+To the court of King Simonides 
+
+Are letters brought, the tenour these: 
+Antiochus and his daughter dead; 
+
+The men of Tyrus on the head 
+
+Of’ Helicanus would set on 
+
+The crown of Tyre, but he will none: 
+The mutiny he there hastes t’ oppress; 
+
+Says to ‘em, if King Pericles 30 
+Come not home in twice six moons, 
+
+He, obedient to their dooms, 
+
+Will take the crown. The sum of this, 
+Brought hither to Pentapolis, 
+
+Y-ravished the regions round, 
+
+And every one with claps can sound, 
+‘Our heir-apparent is a king! 
+
+Who dream'd, who thought of such a thing?" 
+Brief, he must hence depart to Tyre: 
+
+His queen with child makes her desire— 40 
+Which who shall cross?—along to go: 
+Omit we all their dole and woe: 
+Lychorida, her nurse, she takes, 
+
+And so to sea. Their vessel shakes 
+On Neptune's billow; half the flood 
+Hath their keel cut: but fortune’s mood 
+Varies again; the grisled north 
+Disgorges such a tempest forth, 
+
+That, as a duck for life that dives, 
+So up and down the poor ship drives: 
+The lady shrieks, and well-a-near 
+
+Does fall in travail with her fear: 
+And what ensues in th’s fell storm 
+Shall for itself itself perform. 
+
+
+50 
+
+
+1230 
+
+
+I nill relate, action may 
+
+Conveniently the rest convey; 
+
+Which might not what by me is told. 
+
+In your imagination hold 
+
+This stage the ship, upon whose deck 59 
+The sea-tost Pericles appears to speak, [Exit 
+
+
+Scene I, 
+Enter Peric.es, on shipboard, 
+
+
+Per. Thou god of this great vast, rebuke 
+these surges, 
+Which wash forth both heaven and hell; and 
+thou that hast 
+Upon the winds command, bind them in brass, 
+Having call’d them from the deep! O, still 
+
+
+Thy deafening, dreadful thunders; gently 
+quench 
+
+Thy nimble, sulphurous flashes! O, how, 
+Lychorida, 
+
+How does my queen? Thou stormest venor- 
+ously; 
+
+Wilt thou spit all thyself? The seaman’s 
+whistle 
+
+
+Is as a whisper in the ears of death, 
+
+Unheard. Lychorida!—Lucina, O 
+
+Divinest patroness, and midwife gentle 
+
+To those that-cry by night, convey thy deity 
+
+Aboard our dancing boat; make swift the 
+pangs 
+
+Of my queen's travails! 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+Enter Lycuoripa, with an Infant. 
+
+
+Now, Lychorida! 
+Lyc. Here is a thing too young for such 
+a place, 
+Who, if it had conceit, would die, as I 
+Am like to do: take in your arms this piece 
+Of your dead queen. 
+er. How, how, Lychorida! 
+. Patience, good sir; do not assist the 
+storm: 
+Here's all that is left living of your queen, 
+A little daughter: for the sake of it, 
+Be manly, and take comfort. 
+
+Per. O you gods! 
+Why do you make us love your goodly gifts, 
+And snatch them straight away? We here 
+
+below 
+Recall not what we give, and therein may 
+Use honour with you. : 
+
+Lye. 
+
+Even for this charge. 
+
+Per. - Now, mild may be thy life! 
+For a more blustrous birth had never babe: 
+Quiet and gentle thy condit’ons! for 
+Thou art the rudeliest welcome to this world 
+That ever was prince's child. Happy what 
+
+follows! 31 
+Thou hast as chiding a nativity 
+
+
+Patience, good sir. 
+
+
+PERICLES 
+
+
+[Act I Seg 
+
+
+As fire, air, water, earth, and heaven can F 
+make, 
+
+To herald thee from the womb: even at the first 
+
+Thy loss is more than can thy portage quit, 
+
+With all thou canst find here. Now, thr 
+good gods 
+
+Throw their best eyes upon’t! 
+
+
+Enter two Sailors. 
+
+
+First Sail. What courage, sir? God save 
+
+
+you! 
+Per. Courage enough: I do not fear the 
+flaw; 
+It hath done to me the worst. Yet, for the 
+love 40 
+
+
+Of th’s poor infant, this fresh-new sea-farer, 
+I would it would be quiet. 
+First Sail. Slack the bolins there! Thou 
+wilt not, wilt thou? Blow, and split thyself. 
+Sec. Sail, But sea-room, an the brine and 
+cloudy billow kiss the moon, I care not. 
+First’ Sail. Sir, your queen must over- 
+board: the sea works h’gh, the wind is loud, 
+and will not lie till the ship be cleared of 
+the dead. 
+Per, That’s your superstition. 50 
+First Sail, Pardon us, sir; with us at see 
+it hath been still observed; and we are strong 
+in custom. Therefore briefly yield her; for 
+she must overboard straight. 
+Per. As you think meet. 
+queen! 
+Lyc. Here she lies, sir. 
+Per. A terrible childbed hast thou had, 
+my dear; 
+No light, no fire: the unfriendly elements 
+Forgot thee utterly; nor have I time 59 
+To give thee hallow’d to thy grave, but straight 
+Must cast thee, scarcely coffin'd, in the ooze; 
+Where, for a monument upon thy bones, 
+And e’er-remaining lamps, the belching whale” 
+And humming water must o'erwhelm thy 
+corpse, a 
+Lying with simple shells. O Lychorida, 
+Bd Nestor bring me spices, ink and paper, 
+My casket and my jewels; and bid Nicander 
+Bring me the satin coffer: lay the babe 
+Upon the pil'ow: hie thee, whiles I say 69 
+A priestly farewell to her: suddenly, woman. 
+[Exit Lychorida. 
+Sec. Sail. Sir, we have a chest beneath the 
+hatches, caulked and bitumed ready. 
+Per. I thank thee. Mariner, say what 
+coast is this? , 
+Sec. Sail. We are near Tarsus. 
+Per. Thither, gentle mariner, 
+Alter thy course for Tyre. When canst thou 
+reach it? b 
+
+
+Most wretched 
+
+
+Act Ill, Sc. II] 
+
+
+Sec. Sail. By break of day, if the wind 
+cease. 
+Per. O, make for Tarsus! 
+There will I visit Cleon, for the babe 79 
+Cannot hold out to Tyrus: there I'll leave it 
+At careful nursing. Go thy ways, good mari- 
+
+
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene II. Ephesus. A room in 
+Cerimon’s house. 
+
+
+_ Enter Cermmon, with a Servant, and some 
+Persons who have been shipwrecked. 
+
+
+Cer. Philemon, ho! 
+Enter PHILEMON. 
+Phil. Doth my lord call? 
+
+
+Cer. Get fire and meat for these poor men: 
+. °T has been a turbulent and stormy night. 
+_Serv. I have been in many; but such a 
+night as this, 
+Till now, I ne’er endured. 
+Cer. Your master will be dead ere you 
+return; 
+There ’s nothing can be minister’d to nature 
+That can recover him. [To Philemon] Give 
+this to the ‘pothecary, 
+And tell me how it works. 
+[Exeunt all but Cerimon. 
+
+
+Enter two Gentlemen. 
+
+
+First Gent. Good morrow. 10 
+
+Sec. Gent. Good morrow to your lordship. 
+
+Cer. : Gentlemen, 
+Why do you stir so early? 
+
+First Gent. Sir, 
+Our lodgings, standing bleak upon the sea, 
+Shook as the earth did quake; 
+The very principals did seem to rend, 
+And all-to topple: pure surprise and fear 
+Made me to quit the house. 
+
+Sec.Gent. That is the cause we trouble 
+
+you so early; 
+
+*Tis not our husbandry. 
+
+Cer. O, you say well. 20 
+
+First Gent. But I much marvel that your 
+
+lordship, having 
+Rich tire about you, should at these early 
+hours 
+Shake off the golden slumber of repose. 
+"Tis most strange, 
+Nature should be so conversant with pain, 
+Being thereto not compell’d. 
+
+Cer. I hold it ever, 
+Virtue and cunning were endowments greater 
+Than nobleness and riches: careless heirs 
+May the two latter darken and expend; 
+But immortality attends the former, 
+Making a man a god. ‘Tis known, I ever 
+Have studied physic, through which secret art, 
+
+
+ner: 
+I'll bring the body presently. 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+PERICLES 
+
+
+1231 
+
+
+By turning o’er authorities, I have, 
+
+Together with my practice, made familiar 
+
+To me and to my aid the blest infusions 
+
+That dwell in vegetives, in metals, stones; 
+
+And I can speak of the disturbances 
+
+That nature works, and of her cures; which 
+doth give me 
+
+A more content in course of true delight 
+
+Than to be thirsty after tottering honour, 
+
+Or tie my treasure up in silken bags, 
+
+To please the fool and death, 
+
+Sec. Gent. Your honour has through 
+
+Ephesus pour'd forth 
+
+Your charity, and hundreds call themselves 
+
+Your creatures, who by you have been re- 
+stored: 
+
+And not your knowledge, your personal pain, 
+but even 
+
+Your purse, still open, hath built Lord Ceri- 
+mon 
+
+Such strong renown as time shall ne'er decay. 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+Enter two or three Servants with a chest. 
+
+
+First Serv. So; lift there. 
+
+Cer. What is that? 
+
+First Serv. Sir, even now 
+Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest: 50 
+‘Tis of some wreck. 
+
+
+Cer. Set 't down, let’s look upon 't. 
+Sec. Gent. "Tis like a coffin, sir. 
+Cer. Whate’er it be, 
+‘Tis wondrous heavy. Wrench it open 
+straight: 
+
+
+If the sea’s stomach be o'ercharged w th gold, 
++'Tis a good constraint of fortune it belches 
+upon us. 
+Sec. Gent. "Tis so, my ford. 
+Cer. How close 'tis caulk’d and bitumed! 
+Did the sea cast it up? 
+First Serv. 1 never saw so huge a billow, 
+
+
+sir, . 
+As toss'd it upon shore. 
+Cer. Wrench it open; 
+
+
+Soft! it smells most sweetly in my sense. 60 
+Sec. Gent. A delicate odour. 
+Cer. As ever hit my nostril. So, up with it. 
+O you most potent gods! what’s here? a 
+corse! 
+First Gent. Most strange! 
+Cer. Shrouded in cloth of state; balm'd 
+and entreasured 
+With full bags of spices! A passport too! 
+Apollo, perfect me in the characters! 
+[Reads from a scroll. 
+‘Here I give to understand, 
+If e’er this coffin drive a-land, 
+I, King Pericles, have lost 70 
+This queen, worth all our mundane cost, 
+Who finds her, give her burying; 
+
+
+1232 
+
+
+She was the daughter of a king: 
+Bes'des this treasure for a fee, 
+The gods requite his charity!’ 
+If thou livest, Pericles, thou hast a heart 
+That even cracks for woe! This chanced to- 
+night. 
+Sec. Gent. Most likely, sir. 
+er. Nay, certainly to-night; 
+For look how fresh she looks! 
+
+
+They were 
+too rough 
+That threw her in the sea. Make a fire 
+within: 
+
+
+Fetch hither all my boxes in my closet, 81 
+[Exit a Servant. 
+
+Death may usurp on nature many hours, 
+
+And yet the fire of life kindle again 
+
+The o’erpress’d spirits. +1 heard of an 
+
+Egyptian 
+That had nine hours lien dead, 
+Who was by good appliance recovered. 
+
+
+Re-enter a Servant, with boxes, napkins, 
+
+
+and fire, 
+Well said, well said; the fire and cloths. 
+
+
+The rough and woeful music that we have, 
+
+Cause it to sound, beseech you. 
+
+The viol once more: how thou stirr’st, thou 
+block! 90 
+
+The music there!—TI pray you, give her air. 
+
+Gentlemen, 
+
+This queen will live: 
+warmth 
+
+Breathes out of her: she hath not been en- 
+tranced 
+
+Above five hours: see how she gins to blow 
+
+Into life’s flower again! 
+
+First Gent. The heavens, 
+Through you, increase our wonder and set up 
+Your fame for ever. 
+Cer. She is alive; behold, 
+
+Her eyelids, cases to those heavenly jewels 
+
+Which Pericles hath lost, - 100 
+
+Begin to part their fringes of bright gold; 
+
+The diamonds of a most praised water 
+
+Do appear, to make the world twice rich. 
+Live, 
+
+
+And make us weep to hear your fate, fair 
+
+
+nature awakes; a 
+
+
+creature, 
+Rare as you seem to be. [She moves. 
+Thai. O dear Diana, 
+Where am I? Where’s my lord? What 
+
+
+world is this> 
+Sec. Gent. Is not this strange? 
+First Gent. Most rare. 
+Cer. Hush, my gentle neighbours! 
+Lend me your hands; to the next chamber 
+bear her. 
+Get linen: now this matter must be look’d to, 
+For her relapse is mortal. Come. come; 110 
+
+
+PERICLES 
+
+
+rh 
+
+
+[Acr III, Sc. HL 
+
+
+And /Esculapius guide us! : M 
+[Exeunt, carrying her away, 
+
+
+Scene III. 
+
+
+Tarsus. A room in Cleon’s 
+
+house. : 
+Enter Perictes, Cleon, Dionyza, and 
+Lycuoripa with Marina in her arms. 
+
+
+Per. Most honour'd Cleon, I must needs be & 
+gone; a 
+My twelve months are expired, and Tyrus 
+stands 
+
+
+In a litigious peace. You, and your lady, 
+Take from my heart all thankfulness! The 
+gods 
+Make up the rest upon you! 7 
+Cle. Your shafts of fortune, though they — 
+hurt you mortally, ’ 
+Yet glance full wanderingly on us. 
+ton. O your sweet queen! 
+That the strict fates had pleased you had 
+brought her hither, 
+To have bless’d mine eyes with her! 
+
+Per. We cannot but obey — 
+The powers above us. Could I rage and roar 
+As doth the sea she lies in, yet the end TI 
+Must be as ‘tis. My gentle babe Marina, — 
+
+whom, 
+For she was born at sea, I have named so, 
+here 
+I charge your charity withal, leaving her 
+The infant of your care; beseeching you 
+To give her princely training, that she may be 
+Manner’d as she is born. 
+
+Cle.- Fear not, my lord, but think — 
+
+Your grace, that fed my country with your — 
+
+
+corn, 
+
+For which the people’s prayers still fall upon 
+you, 
+
+Must in your child be thought on. If neg- — 
+lection 20 
+
+
+Should ‘therein make me vile, the common — 
+body, % 
+
+By you relieved, would force me to my duty: 
+
+But if to that my nature need a spur, 
+
+The gods revenge it upon me and mine, 
+
+To the end of generation! 
+
+
+i 
+Per. I believe you; 
+Your honour and your goodness teach me _ 
+tot, a 
+Without your vows. Till she be married, 
+madam, 4 
+
+
+By bright Diana, whom we honour, all 
+Unscissar'd shall this hair of mine remain, 
+‘Though I show ill in't. So I take my leave. 
+Good madam, make me blessed in your care 
+In bringing up my child. ; 
+
+ion. I have one myself, 
+Who shall not be more dear to my respect 
+Than yours, my lord. 
+
+
+Aer 1Vi SGA] 
+
+
+PERICLES 
+
+
+1233 
+
+
+a Beric Madam, my thanks and prayers. 
+Cle. We ‘Il bring your grace e’en to the 
+edge o’ the shore, 
+Then give you-up to the mask’d Neptune and 
+The gentlest winds of heaven. 
+Per. I will embrace 
+Your offer. Come, dearest madam. O, no 
+tears, 
+Lychorida, no tears: 
+Look to your little mistress, on whose grace 40 
+You may depend hereafter. Come, my lord. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. Ephesus. A room in Cerimon's 
+
+
+house. 
+Enter CERIMON and THAISA. 
+
+
+Cer. Madan, this letter, and some certain 
+jewels, 
+* Lay with you in your coffer: which are now 
+At your command. Know you the character? 
+Thai. It is my lord's. 
+_ That I was shipp'd at sea, I well remember, 
+Even on my eaning time; but whether there 
+Deliver’d, by the holy gods, 
+I cannot rightly say. But since King Pericles, 
+My wedded lord, I ne'er shall see again, 
+A vestal livery will I take me to, 10 
+And never more have joy. 
+Cer, Madam, if this ro purpose as ye 
+speak, 
+-Diana’s temple is not distant bau 
+Where you may abide till your date expire. 
+Moreoyer, if you please, a niece of mine 
+Shall there attend you. 
+Thai. My recompense is thanks, that's all; 
+Yet my good will is great, though the gift 
+small. | Exeunt. 
+
+
+AGRAV. 
+Enter Gower. 
+
+
+Gow. Imagine Pericles arrived at Tyre, 
+Welcomed and settled to his own desire. 
+His woeful queen we leave at Ephesus, 
+Unto Diana there a votaress. 
+
+Now to Marina bend your mind, 
+Whom our fast-growing scene must find 
+At Tarsus, and by Cleon train’d 
+
+In music, letters; who hath gain'’d 
+
+Of education all the grace, 
+
+Which makes her both the heart and place 
+Of general wonder. But, alack, 
+
+That monster envy, oft the wrack 
+
+Of earned praise, Marina's | fe 
+
+Seeks to take off by treason’s knife. 
+And in this kind hath our Cleon 
+
+One daughter, and a wench full grown, 
+Even ripe for marriage-rite; this maid 
+
+
+Hight Philoten: and it is said 
+
+
+For certain in our story, she 
+
+Would ever with Marina be: 
+
+Be 't when she weaved the sleided silk 
+With fingers long, small, white as milk; 
+Or when she would with sharp needle wound 
+The cambric, which she made more sound 
+By hurting it; or when to the lute 
+
+She sung, and made the night-bird mute, 
+That still records with moan; or when 
+She would with rich and constant pen 
+Vail to her mistress Dian; still 
+
+This Philoten contends in skill 30 
+With absolute Marina: so 
+
+With the dove of Paphos might the crow 
+Vie feathers white. Marina gets 
+
+All praises, which are paid as debts, 
+And not as given. Ths so darks 
+
+In Philoten all graceful marks, 
+
+That Cleon’s wife, with envy rare, 
+
+A present murderer does prepare 
+
+For good Marina, that her daughter 
+Might stand peerless by this slaughter. 
+The sooner her vile thoughts to stead, 
+Lychorida, our nurse, is dead: 
+
+And cursed Dionyza hath 
+
+The pregnant instrument of wrath 
+Prest for this blow. The unborn event 
+I do commend to your content: 
+
+Only I carry winged time 
+
+Post on the lame feet of my rhyme; 
+Which never could I so convey, 
+Unless your thoughts went on my way. 50 
+Dionyza does appear, 
+With Leonine, a murderer. [Exit. 
+
+
+20 
+
+
+40 
+
+
+Scene I. Tarsus. An open place near the 
+
+
+sea-shore. 
+Enter Dionyza and LEONINE. 
+Dion. Thy oath thou hast 
+
+
+sworn to do’t: 
+"Tis but a blow, which never shall be known. 
+Thou canst not do a thing in the world so 
+soon, 
+To yield thee so much profit. 
+science, 
+Which is but cold, inflaming love i’ thy bosom, 
+Inflame too nicely; nor let pity, which 
+Even women have cast off, melt thee, but be 
+A soldier to thy purpose. 
+Leon. I will do’t; but yet she is a goodly 
+creature. 9 
+Dion. The fitter, then, the gods should have 
+her. +Here she comes weeping for her only 
+mistress’ death. Thou art resolved? 
+Leon. I am resolved. 
+
+
+Enter Marina, with a basket of flowers. 
+Mar. No, I will rob Tellus of her weed, 
+
+
+remember; 
+
+
+Let not con- 
+
+
+1234 
+
+
+To strew thy green with flowers: the yellows, 
+blues, 
+The purple violets, and marigolds, 
+Shall as a carpet hang upon thy grave, 
+While summer-days do last. Ay me! poor 
+maid, 
+Born in a tempest, when my mother died, 
+This world to me is like a lasting storm, 20 
+Whirring me from my friends. 
+Dion. How now, Marina! why do you 
+keep alone? 
+How chance my daughter is not with you? 
+
+
+Do not 
+
+Consume your blood with sorrowing: you 
+have 
+
+A nurse of me. Lord, how your favour ‘s 
+changed 
+
+
+With this unprofitable woe! 
+Come, give me your flowers, ere the sea mar it. 
+Walk with Leonine; the air is quick there, 
+And it pierces and sharpens the stomach. 
+me, 
+Leonine, take her by the arm, walk with her. 
+Mar. No, | pray you; 
+I'll not bereave you of your servant. 
+Dion. Come, come; 
+I love the king your father, and yourself, 
+With more than foreign heart. We every day 
+Expect him here: when he shall come and find 
+Our paragon to all reports thus blasted, 
+He will repent the breadth of his great voy- 
+age; 
+Blame both my lord and me, that we have 
+taken 
+No care to your best courses. Go, | pray you, 
+Walk, and be cheerful once again; reserve 
+That excellent complexion, which did steal 
+The eyes of young and old. Care not for me; 
+I can go home alone. 
+Mar. Well, I will go; 
+But yet I have no desire to it. 
+Dion. Come, come, I know 'tis good for 
+you. 
+Walk half an hour, Leonine, at the least: 
+Remember what I have said, 
+Leon. I warrant you, madam. 
+Dion. I'll leave you, my sweet lady, for a 
+while: 
+Pray, walk softly, do not heat your blood: 
+What! I must have a care of you. 
+Mar. My thanks, sweet madam. 50 
+[Exit Dionyza. 
+Is this wind westerly that blows? 
+
+
+Leon. South-west. 
+
+Mar. When I was born, the wind was 
+north, 
+
+Leon. Was 't so? 
+
+
+Mar. My father, as nurse said, did never 
+ear, 
+
+
+PERICLES 
+
+
+[Acr IV, Se. I 
+
+
+But cried “Good seamen!” to the sailors, gall- _ 
+
+
+ing 
+His kingly hands, haling ropes; 
+
+nd, clasping to the mast, endured a sea 
+That almost burst the deck, 
+
+Leon. When was this? 
+
+Mar, When I was born: 
+
+Never was waves nor wind more violent; 60 
+
+And from the ladder-tackle washes off 
+
+A canvas-climber, ‘Ha!’ says Oue, 
+out?’ 
+
+And with a dropping industry they skip 
+
+From aicm to stern: the boatswain whistles, 
+an 
+
+The master calls, and trebles their confusion. 
+
+Leon. Come, say your prayers. 
+
+Mar, What mean you? 
+
+Leon. If you require a little space for 
+
+prayer, 
+I grant it: pray; but be not tedious, 69 
+For the gods are quick of ear, and I am 
+sworn 
+To do my work with haste. 
+ar. Why will you kill me? 
+
+Leon. To satisfy my lady. 
+
+Mar. Why would she have me kill'd? 
+Now, as I can remember, by my troth, . 
+I never did her hurt in all my life: : 
+I never spake bad word, nor dd ill turn 
+To any living creature: believe me, la, 
+
+I never kill’d a mouse, nor hurt a fly: | 
+
+I trod upon a worm against my will, 
+
+But I wept for it. How have I offended, 80 — 
+Wherein my déath might yield her any profit, 
+Or my life imply her any danger? 
+
+Leon. My commission 
+Is not to reason of the deed, but do it. ‘ 
+
+Mar. You will not do't for all the world, 
+
+I hope. 
+
+You are well favour'd, and your looks fore- 
+show 
+
+You have a gentle heart, 
+
+When you caught hurt in 
+fought: 
+
+Good sooth, it show'd well in you: do so now: 
+
+Your lady seeks my life; come you between, 
+
+And save poor me, the weaker, 
+
+Leon. I am sworn, 
+
+
+And will dispatch. [He seizes her, 
+Enter Pirates. 
+
+
+First Pirate. Hold, villain! 
+[Leonine runs away, 
+Sec. Pirate. A prize! a prize! 
+Third Pirate. Half-part, mates, half-part, 
+Come, let’s have her aboard suddenly, 
+[Exeunt Pirates with Marina, 
+
+
+Re-enter LEONINE, 
+
+
+‘wilt 
+
+
+I saw you lately, ~~ 
+
+
+parting two that 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. II] 
+
+
+Leon. These roguing thieves serve the great 
+
+pirate Valdes; 
+
+And they have seized Marina. Let her go: 
+
+There's no hope she will return. I ‘Il swear 
+she’s dead, 
+
+And thrown into the sea. But I'll see fur- 
+ther: 
+
+Perhaps they will but please themselves upon 
+her, 101 
+
+Not carry her aboard. If she remain, 
+
+
+a they have ravish’d must by me be slain. 
+[Exit. 
+
+
+Scene II. Myiilene. A room in a brothel. 
+Enter Panpar, Bawd, and Boutt. 
+
+
+Pand. Boult! 
+
+Boult. Sir? 
+
+Pand. Search the market narrowly; Myti- 
+lene is full of gallants. We lost too much 
+money this mart by being too wenchless. 
+
+Bawd. We were never so much out of 
+creatures. We have but poor three, and they 
+can do no more than they can do; and they 
+with continual action are even as good as 
+rotten. 9 
+
+Pand. Therefore let’s have fresh ones, 
+whate’er we pay for them. If there be not a 
+conscience to be used in every trade, we shall 
+never prosper. 
+
+Bawd. Thou sayest true: ‘tis not our bring- 
+ing up of poor bastards,—as, | think, I have 
+brought up some eleven— 
+
+Boult. Ay, to eleven; and brought them 
+down again. But shall I search the market? 
+
+Bawd. What else, man? ‘The stuff we 
+have, a strong wind will blow it to pieces, they 
+are so pitifully sodden. 
+
+Pand. Thou sayest true; they ’re too un- 
+wholesome, o” conscience. The poor Transyl- 
+vanian is dead, that lay with the little baggage. 
+
+Bouli. Ay, she quickly pooped him; she 
+made him roast-meat for worms. But I'll go 
+search the market. [Exit. 
+
+Pand. Three or four thousand chequins 
+were as pretty a proportion to live quietly, and 
+so give over. 
+
+Bawd. Why to give over, I pray you? is it 
+a shame to get when we are old? 
+
+Pand. O, our credit comes not in like the 
+commodity, nor the commodity wages not with 
+the danger: therefore, if in our youths we 
+could pick up some pretty estate, ‘twere not 
+amiss to keep our door hatched. Besides, the 
+sore terms we stand upon with the gods will 
+be strong with us for giving over. 
+
+Bawd. Come, others sorts offend as well as 
+we. 
+
+Pand. As well as we! ay, and better too; 
+we offend worse. Neither is our profession 
+
+
+PERICLES 
+
+
+1235 
+
+
+any trade; il’s no calling. But here comes 
+
+
+Boult. 
+
+
+Re-enter BouLt, with the Pirates and 
+‘Marina, 
+
+
+Boult. [To Marina] Come your ways, 
+My masters, you say she’s a virgin? 
+
+First Pirate. O, sir, we doubt it not. 
+
+Boult. Master, I have gone through for 
+this piece, you see: if you like her, so; if not, 
+I have lost my earnest. 
+
+Bawd. Boult, has she any qualities? 50 
+
+Boult. She has a good face, speaks well, 
+and has excellent good clothes: there's no 
+further necessity of qualities can make her 
+be refused. 
+
+Bawd. What's her price, Boult? 
+
+Boult. I cannot be baited one doit of a 
+thousand pieces. 
+
+Pand. Well, follow me, my masters, you 
+shall have your money presently. Wife, take 
+her in; instruct her what she has to do, that 
+she may not be raw in her entertainment. 60 
+
+[Exeunt Pandar and Pirates, 
+
+Bawd. Boult, take you the marks of her, 
+the colour of her hair, complexion, height, age, 
+with warrant of her virginity; and cry ‘He 
+that will give most shall have her first.” Such 
+a maidenhead were no cheap thing, if men 
+were as they have been. Get this done as | 
+command you. 
+
+
+Boult. Performance shall follow. [Exit. 
+Mar. Aiack that Leonine was so slack, so 
+slow! 
+
+
+He should have struck, not spoke; or that 
+these pirates, 
+
+Not enough barbarous, had not o’erboard 
+thrown me 70 
+
+For to seek my mother! 
+
+Bawd. Why lament you, pretty one? 
+
+Mar. That I am pretty. 
+
+Bawd. Come, the gods have done their 
+part in you. 
+
+Mar. | accuse them not. 
+
+Bawd. You are light into my hands, where 
+you are like to live. 
+
+Mar. The more my fault 
+To scape his hands where I was like to die. 80 
+
+Bawd. Ay, and you shall live in pleasure. 
+
+Mar. No. 
+
+Bawd. Yes, indeed sha)) you, and taste 
+gentlemen of all fashions: you shall fare 
+well; you shall have the difference of all com- 
+plexions. What! do you stop your ears? 
+
+Mar. Are you a woman? 
+
+Bawd. What would you have me be, an I 
+be not a woman? 89 
+
+Mar. An honest woman, or not a woman. 
+
+Bawd. Marry, whip thee, gosling: I think 
+
+
+‘\ 
+
+
+1236 
+
+
+I shall have something to do with you. Come, 
+you re a young foolish sapl.ng, and must be 
+bowed as I would have you. 
+
+Mar. The gods defend me! 
+
+Bawd, If it please the gods to defend you 
+by men, then men must comfort you, men 
+must feed you, men must stir you up. Boult’s 
+returned. 
+
+
+Re-enter Boutt. 
+
+
+Now, sir, hast thou cried her through the 
+market? 99 
+
+Boult. 1 have cried her almost to the num- 
+ber of her hairs; I have drawn her picture 
+with my voice. 
+
+Bawd. And I prithee tell me, how dost 
+thou find the inclination of the people, espe- 
+cially of the younger sort? 
+
+Boult. ’Faith, they listened to me as they 
+would have hearkened to their father’s testa- 
+ment. There was a Spaniard’s mouth so 
+watered, that he went to bed to her very 
+description. 109 
+
+Bawd. We shall have him here to-morrow 
+with his best ruff on. 
+
+Boult. To-night, to-night. But, mistress, 
+do you know the French knight that cowers 
+1’ the hams? 
+
+Bawd. Who, Monsieur Veroles? 
+
+Boult. Ay, he: he offered to cut a caper at 
+the proclamation; but he made a groan at it, 
+and swore he would see her to-morrow. 
+
+Bawd. Well, well; as for him, he brought 
+his disease hither: here he does but repair it. 
+I know he will come in our shadow, to scatter 
+his crowns in the sun. 
+
+Boult. Well, if we had of every nation a 
+traveller, we should lodge them with this sign. 
+
+Bawd. [To Mar.] Pray you, come hither 
+awhile. You have fortunes coming upon you. 
+Mark me: you must seem to do that fear- 
+fully which you commit willingly, despise 
+profit where you have most gain. To weep 
+that you live as ye do makes pity in your 
+lovers: seldom but that pity begets you a 
+good opin‘on, and that opinion a mere profit. 
+
+Mar. I understand you not. 
+
+Boult. O, take her home, mistress, take her 
+home: these blushes of hers must be quenched 
+with some present practice. 
+
+Bawd. Thou sayest true, i’ faith so they 
+must; for your bride goes to that with shame 
+which is her way to go with warrant. 139 
+
+Boult. 'Faith, some do, and some do not. 
+But, mistress, if I have bargained for the 
+joint,— 
+
+Bawd. Thou mayst cut a morsel off the 
+spit. : 
+
+Boult. I may so. 
+
+
+PERICLES 
+
+
+Bawd. Who should deny it? Come, young — 
+one, I like the manner of your garments well. : 
+
+Boult. Ay, by my fa.th, they shall not be — 
+changed yet. = 
+
+Bawd. Boult, spend thou that in the town: _ 
+report what a sojourner we have; youll lose — 
+nothing by custom. When nature framed this 
+piece, she meant thee a good turn; therefore 3 
+say what a paragon she is, and thou hast the 
+harvest out of thine own report. 3 
+
+Boult. I warrant you, mistress, thunder 4 
+shall not so awake the beds of eels as my giv- 
+ing out her beauty stir up the lewdly-inclined. 
+I'll bring home some to-night. 
+
+Bawd. Come your ways; follow me. 
+
+Mar. If fires be hot, knives sharp, or waters — 
+
+
+deep, 4 
+Untied | still my virgin knot will keep. 160 ; 
+Diana, aid my purpose! 
+Bawd. What have we to do with Diana? 
+Pray you, will you go with us? [Exeunt. © 
+Scene III. Tarsus. A room in Cleon's 
+house. 
+Enter CLeon and Dionyza. 
+Dion. Why, are you foolish? Can it be _ 
+undone ? . 
+Cle. O Dionyza, such a piece of slaughter 
+The sun and moon ne'er look’d upon! F 
+Dion. I think 
+You ‘ll turn a child aga‘n. 
+Cle. Were I chief lord of all this spacious — 
+world, Z 
+I 'ld give it totundo the deed. O lady, 
+Much less in blood than virtue, yet a princess — 
+
+
+To equal any single crown o’ the earth 
+I’ the justice of compare! _Q villain Leonine! 
+
+
+Whom thou hast poison’d too: 10_ 
+If thou hadst drunk to him, ‘t had been a 
+kindness 
+
+
+Becoming well thy fact: what canst thou say | 
+When noble Pericles shall demand his child?» 
+Dion. hat she is dead. Nurses are not 
+the fates, 
+To foster it, nor ever to preserve, 
+She died at night; I'll say so. 
+cross it? 
+Unless you play the pious innocent, 
+And for an honest attribute cry out 
+‘She died by foul play.’ 
+
+Cle. O, go to. Well, well, 
+Of all the faults beneath the heavens, the gods — 
+Do like this worst. t 
+
+Dion. Be one of those that think 21 
+The petty wrens of Tarsus will fly hence, 4 
+And open this to Pericles. I do shame 
+To think of what a noble strain you are, 
+
+And of how coward a spirit. 
+Cle. To such proceeding — 
+
+
+Who can — 
+
+
+PERICLES 
+
+
+1237 
+
+
+J 
+Who ever but his approbation added, 
+
+
+_ Though not his prime consent, he did not flow 
+
+
+From honourable sources. 
+
+Dion. Be it so, then: 
+
+Yet none does know, but you, how she came 
+dead, 
+
+Nor none can know, Leonine being gone. 30 
+
+She did distain my child, and stood between 
+
+’ Her and her fortunes: none would look on 
+her, 
+
+But cast their gazes on Marina’s face; 
+
+Whilst ours was blurted at and held a malkin 
+
+Not worth the time of day. It pierced me 
+through; 
+
+And though you eall my course unnatural, 
+
+~ You not your child well loving, yet I find 
+
+It greets me as an enterprise of kindness 
+
+Perform’d to your sole daughter. 
+
+Cle, Heavens forgive it! 
+~Dion. And as for Pericles, 
+
+What should he say? We wept after her 
+hearse, 
+
+And yet we mourn: her monument 
+
+Is almost finish’d, and her epitaphs 
+
+In glittering golden characters express 
+
+A general praise to her, and care in us 
+
+At whose expense ‘tis done. 
+
+Cle. Thou art like the harpy, 
+Which, to betray, dost, w th thine angel’s face, 
+Seize with thine eagle’s talons. 
+
+Dion. Yeu are like one that superstitiously 
+Doth swear to the gods that winter kills the 
+
+flies: 50 
+But yet I know you'll do as I advise. 
+[Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IV. 
+
+
+Enter Gower, before the monument of 
+Marina at Tarsus. 
+
+
+Gow. Thus time we waste, and longest 
+leagues make short; 
+Sail seas in cockles, have an wish but for ’t; 
+Making, to take your imag nation, 
+From bourn .to bourn, region to region. 
+By you being pardon’ d, we commit no 
+crime 
+To use one language in each several clime 
+
+
+Where our scenes seem to live. I do be- 
+seech you 
+
+‘To learn of me, who stand i’ the gaps to 
+teach you, 
+
+The stages of our story. Pericles 
+
+
+Is now again thwarting the wayward seas, 
+Attended on by many a lord and knight, 
+To see his daughter, a!l his life’s del ght. 
+Old Escanes, whom Helicanus late 
+Advanced in time to great and high estate, 
+Is left to govern. Bear you it in mind, 
+
+
+Old Helicanus goes along behind. 
+
+
+Well-sailing’ ships and bounteous winds 
+have brought 
+
+
+This king to Tarsus—think his pilot 
+thought; 
+
+So with his steerage shall your thoughts 
+grow on,— 
+
+To fetch his daughter home, who first is 
+gone. 
+
+Like motes and shadows see them move 
+awhile: 21 
+
+
+Your ears unto your eyes | ‘ll reconcile. 
+Dumps SHow. 
+
+
+Enter PERIcLES, at one door, with all his 
+train; CLEON and Dionyza, at the other. 
+CLEON shows PERICLES the tomb; whereat 
+PeERicLes makes lamentation, puts on sack- 
+cloth, and in a mighty passion departs. 
+Then exeunt CLEON and Dionyza. 
+
+
+See how belief may suffer by foul show! 
+This borrow’d passion stands for true old 
+woe; 
+And Pericles, in sorrow all devour'd, 
+With sighs shot through, and biggest tears 
+o'ershower'd, 
+Leaves Tarsus and again embarks. 
+swears 
+Never to wash his face, nor cut his hairs: 
+He puts on sackcloth, and to sea. He bears 
+A tempest, which his mortal vessel tears, 30 
+And yet he rides it out. Now please you 
+wit 
+The epitaph is for Marina writ 
+By wicked Dionyza. 
+[Reads the inscription on Marina’s 
+monument, 
+“The fairest, sweet’st, and best lies here, 
+Who wither’d in her spring of year. 
+She was of Tyrus the king’s daughter, 
+On whom foul death hath made 
+slaughter ; 
+Marina was she call’d; and at her birth, 
+Thet's, being proud, swallow'd some part'o° 
+the earth: 
+Therefore the earth, fearing to be o’erflow’d, 
+Hath Thetis’ birth-child on the heavens be- 
+stow’d: Al 
+Wherefore she and swears she ‘Il 
+never stint, 
+Make raging battery upon shores of flint.’ 
+
+
+He 
+
+
+this 
+
+
+does, 
+
+
+No visor does become black villany 
+
+So well as soft and tender flattery. 
+
+Let Pericles believe his daughter ’s dead, 
+
+And bear his courses to be ordered 
+
+By Lady Fortune; while our scene must 
+play 
+
+His daughter’s woe and heavy well-a-day 
+
+
+% 
+
+
+1238 
+
+
+PERICLES 
+
+
+—oqeqqjfgegc SSS 
+
+
+In her unholy service. Patience, then, 50 
+And think you now are all in Mytilene. 
+[Exit. 
+
+
+Scene V. Mytilene. A street before the 
+brothel. 
+
+
+Enter, from the brothel, two Gentlemen. 
+
+
+First Gent. Did you ever hear the like? 
+
+Sec. Gent. No, nor never shall do in such 
+a place as this, she being once gone. 
+
+First Gent. But to have divinity preached 
+there! did you ever dream of such a thing? 
+
+Sec. Gent. No, no. Come, I am for no 
+more bawdy-houses: shall’s go hear the 
+vestals sing? 
+
+First Gent. I'll do any thing now that is 
+virtuous; but I am out of the road of rutting 
+for ever. ‘ Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene VI. The same. A room in the brothel. 
+Enter Pandar, Bawd, and Bou t. 
+Pand. Well, I had rather than twice the 
+
+
+worth of her she had ne'er come here. 
+
+Bawd. Fie, fie upon her! she's able to 
+freeze the god Priapus, and undo a whole 
+generation. We must either get her ravished, 
+or be rid of her. When she should do for 
+clients her fitment, and do me the kind- 
+ness of our profession, she has me her quirks, 
+her reasons, her master reasons, her prayers, 
+her knees; that she would make a puritan of 
+the devil, if he should cheapen a kiss of her. 
+
+Boult. "Faith, I must ravsh her, or she ‘ll 
+disfurnish us of all our cavaliers, and make 
+our swearers priests. 
+
+Pand. Now, the pox upon her green-sick- 
+ness for me! 
+
+Bawd. ‘Faith, there's no way to be rid 
+on 't but by the way to the pox. Here comes 
+the Lord Lysimachus disguised. 
+
+Boult. We should have both lord and 
+lown, if the peevish baggage would but give 
+way to customers. 21 
+
+
+Enter LysimacHus. 
+Lys. 
+
+
+ginit es? 
+
+Bawd. Now, the gods to bless your hon- 
+our! 
+
+Boult. I am glad to see your honour in 
+good health. 
+
+Lys. You may so; ‘tis the better for you 
+that your resorters stand upon sound legs. 
+How now! wholesome iniquity have you that 
+a man may deal withal, and defy the sur- 
+geon ? 
+
+Bawd. We have here one, sir, if she would 
+—but there never came her like in Mytilene. 
+
+
+How now! How a dozen of vir- 
+
+
+; 
+
+
+Lys. If she'ld do the deed of darkness, 
+thou wouldst say. 
+
+Bawd. Your honour knows what ‘tis to 
+say well enough. 
+
+Lys. Well, call forth, call forth. 
+
+Boult. For flesh and blood, sir, white and 
+red, you shall see a rose; and she were a rose 
+indeed, if she had but— 
+
+Lys. What, prithee? 40 
+
+Boult, O, six, I can be modest. 
+
+Lys. That dignifies the renown of a bawd, 
+no less than it gives a good report to a num- 
+ber to be chaste, [Exit Boult. 
+
+Bawd. Here comes that which grows to the 
+stalk; never plucked yet, I can assure you. 
+
+
+Re-enter BouLt with Marina. 
+
+
+Is she not a fair creature? 
+
+Lys. ’Faith, she would serve after a long 
+voyage at sea. Well, there's for you: leave 
+
+us, 
+
+Bawd. | beseech your honour, give me 
+leave: a word, and I'l] have done presently. 
+
+Lys. I beseech you, do. 
+
+Bawd. [To Marina] First, I would have 
+you note, this is an honourable man. 
+
+Mar. I des‘re to find him so, that I may 
+worthily note him. 
+
+Bawa. Next, he’s the governor of this 
+country, and a man whom I am bound to. 
+
+Mar. If he govern the country, you are 
+bound to him indeed; but how honourable he 
+is in that, I know not. 61 
+
+Bawd, Pray: you, without any more vir- 
+ginal fencing, will you use him kindly? He 
+will line your apron with gold. 
+
+Mar. What he will do graciously, I will 
+thankfully receive. 
+
+Lys. Ha’ you done? 
+
+Bawd. My lord, she's not paced yet: you 
+must take some pains to work her to your 
+manage. Come, we will leave his honour and-» 
+her together. Go thy ways. 
+
+[Exeunt Bawd, Pandar, and Boullt. 
+
+Lys. Now, pretty one, how long have you 
+been at this trade? 
+
+Mar. What trade, sir? 
+
+Lys. Why, I cannot name't but I shall 
+offend, 
+
+Mar. I cannot be offended with my trade. 
+Please you to name it. 
+
+Lys. How long have you been of this pro- 
+fession > 
+
+Mar, E’er since I can remember? 
+
+Lys. Did you go to’t so young? Were 
+you a gamester at five or at seven? 81 
+Mar. Earlier too, sir, if now I be one. 
+Lys. Why, the house you dwell in pro- 
+
+claims you to be a creature of sale, 
+
+
+[Act IV, Se. VI 
+
+
+Act IV, Sc. VI] 
+
+
+Mar. Do you know ths house to be a 
+place of such resort, and will come into 't? 
+I hear say you are of honourable parts, and 
+are the governor of this place. 
+
+Lys. Why, hath your principal 
+knowa unto you who I am? 
+
+Mar. Who is my principal > 
+
+Lys. Why, your herb-woman; she that 
+sets seeds and roots of shame and iniquity. 
+O, you have heard something of my power, 
+and so stand aloof for more serious wooing. 
+But I protest to thee, pretty one, my authority 
+shall not see thee, or else look friendly upon 
+thee. Come, bring me to some private place: 
+come, come. 
+
+Mar. \f you were born to honour, show it 
+
+now; 
+If put upon you, make the judgement good 
+That thought you worthy of it. 
+
+
+made 
+
+
+Lys. How’s this? how's this? Some 
+more; be sage. 
+Mar. For me, 
+That am a maid, though most ungentle for- 
+tune 
+Have placed me in this sty, where, since | 
+came, 
+
+
+Diseases have been sold dearer than physic, 
+
+O, that the gods 
+
+Would set me free from 
+place, 
+
+beat did change me to the meanest 
+ir 
+
+That flies i’ the purer air! 
+
+
+this unhallow’d 
+
+
+Lys. I did not think 
+Thou couldst have spoke so well; ne'er 
+dream’d thou couldst. 110 
+
+
+Had I brought hither a corrupted mind, 
+Thy speech had alter’d it. Hold, here ’s gold 
+for thee: 
+Persever in that clear way thou goest, 
+And the gods strengthen thee! 
+Mar. The good gods preserve you! 
+Lys. For me, be you thoughten 
+That I came with no ill intent; for to me 
+The very doors and windows savour vilely. 
+Fare Ee well. Thou art a piece of virtue, 
+an 
+I doubt not but thy training hath been noble. 
+Hold, here’s more gold for thee. 120 
+A curse upon him, die he like a thief, 
+That robs thee of thy goodness! If thou dost 
+Hear from me, it shall be for thy good. 
+
+
+Re-enter Bou t. 
+
+
+Bouit. 1 beseech your honour, one piece 
+for me. 
+
+Lys. Avaunt, thou damned door-keeper! 
+Your house, but for this virgin that doth prop it, 
+
+
+PERICLES 
+
+
+1239 
+
+
+Away! 
+[Exit. 
+
+
+‘Would sink and overwhelm you. 
+
+
+Boult. How's this? We must take an- 
+other course with you. If your peevish chas- 
+tity, which is not worth a breakfast in the 
+
+
+(0 | cheapest country under the cope, shall undo 
+
+
+a whole household, let me be gelded like a 
+spaniel. Come your ways. 
+Mar. Whither would you have me? 
+Boult. I must have your maidenhead taken 
+off, or the common hangman shall execute it. 
+Come your ways. We'll have no more gen- 
+tlemen driven away. Come your ways, | say. 
+
+
+Re-enter Bawd, 
+
+
+Bawd. How now! what’s the matter? 140 
+
+Boult. Worse and worse, mistress; she 
+has here spoken holy words to the Lord 
+Lysimachus. 
+
+Bawd. O abominable! 
+
+Boult. She makes our profession as it were 
+to stink afore the face of the gods. 
+
+Bawd. Marry, hang her up for ever! 
+
+Boult. The nobleman would have dealt 
+with her like a nobleman, and she sent him 
+away as cold as a snowball; saying his pray- 
+ers too. 149 
+
+Bawd. Boult, take her away; use her at 
+thy pleasure: crack the glass of her virginity, 
+and make the rest malleable. 
+
+Boult. An if she were a thornier piece of 
+ground than she is, she shall be ploughed. 
+
+Mar. Hark, hark, you gods! 
+
+Bawd, She conjures: away with her! 
+Would she had never come within my doors! 
+Marry, hang you! She's born to undo us. 
+Will you not go the way of women-kind? 
+Marry, come up, my dish of chastity with 
+rosemary and bays! [Exit. 
+
+Boult. Come, mistress; come your ways 
+with me, 
+
+Mar. Whither wilt thou have me? 
+
+Boult. To take from you the jewel you 
+hold so dear. 
+
+Mar. Prithee, tell me one thing first. 
+
+Boult. Come now, your one thing. 
+
+Mar. What canst thou wish thine enemy 
+
+to be? 
+
+Boult. Why, I could wish him to be my 
+master, or rather, my mistress. 170 
+
+Mar. Neither of these are so bad as thou 
+
+art, 
+Since they do better thee in their command. 
+Thou hold’st a place, for which the pained’st 
+fiend 
+Of hell would not in reputation change: 
+Thou art the damned doorkeeper to every 
+Coistrel that comes inquiring for his Tib; 
+To the choleric fisting of every rogue 
+
+
+~ 1240 
+
+
+Thy ear is liable, thy food is such 
+As hath been belch’d on by infected lungs. 
+Boutt,. What would you have me do? go 
+to the wars, would you? where a man may 
+serve seven years for the loss of a leg, and 
+have not money enough in the end to buy 
+him a wooden one? 
+Mar. Do any thing but this thou doest. 
+Empty 
+Old receptacles, or common shores, of filth; 
+Serve by indenture to the common hangman: 
+Any of these ways are yet better than this; 
+Fer what thou professest, a baboon, could. he 
+speak, 
+Would own a name too dear. 
+gods 
+Would safely deliver me from this place! 19] 
+Here, here's gold for thee. 
+If that thy master would gain by me, 
+Proclaim that I can sing, weave, sew, and 
+dance, 
+With other virtues, which I'll keep from 
+boast; 
+And I will undertake all these to teach. 
+I doubt not but this populous city will 
+Yield many scholars. 
+Boult. But can you teach all this you 
+
+
+O, that the 
+
+
+speak of? 
+Mar. Prove that I cannot, take me home 
+again, 200 
+
+
+And prostitute me to the basest groom 
+That doth frequent your house. 
+
+Boult. Well, I will see what I can do for 
+thee: if I can place thee, I will. 
+
+Mar. But amongst honest women. 
+
+Boult. ‘Faith, my acquaintance lies little 
+amongst them. But since my master and mis- 
+tress have bought you, there ’s no going but by 
+their consent: therefore I will make them ac- 
+quainted with your purpose, and 1 doubt not 
+but I shall find them tractable enough. Come, 
+I'll do for thee what I can; come your ways. 
+
+[Exeuni. 
+
+
+ACT. V. 
+Enter Gower. 
+
+
+Gow. Marina thus the brothel ‘scapes, and 
+chances 
+Into an honest house, our story says. 
+She sings like one immortal, and she dances 
+As goddess-like to her admired lays; 
+Deep clerks she dumbs; and with her neeld 
+composes 
+Nature’s own shape, of bud, bird, branch, or 
+berry, 
+That even her art sisters the natural roses; 
+Her inkle, silk, twin with the rubied cherry: 
+That pupils lacks she none of noble race, 9 
+
+
+' PERICLES 
+eee B 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc. I 4 
+
+
+Who pour their bounty on her; and her gain 
+She gives the cursed bawd. Here we her 
+
+place; eye: 
+And to her father turn our thoughts again, — 
+
+
+Where we left-him, on the sea, We there 
+him lost; yonad 
+
+Whence, driven before the winds, he is ar- 
+rived 4 
+
+Here where his daughter dwells; and on this 
+coast 
+
+
+Suppose him now at anchor. The city strived - 
+God Neptune's. annual feast to keep: from. 
+whence 
+Lysimachus our Tyrian ship espies, 
+His banners sable, trimm'd with rich expense; — 
+And to him in his barge with fervour hies. 20 
+In your supposing once more put your sight 
+Of heavy Pericles; think this his bark: 
+Where what is done in action, more, if might, | 
+Shall be discover’d;. please you, sit and hark. 
+[Exit. 
+
+
+Scene I, On board Pericles’ ship, off Myiilene. 
+A close pavilion on dech, with a curtain 
+before it; Pericles within it, reclined on 
+a couch. A barge lying beside the Tyrian 
+
+
+vessel, a 
+Enter two Sailors, one belonging to the Tyrian 
+vessel, the other to the barge; to them 
+HELIicaNus. ; 
+Tyr. Sail. [To the Sailor of Mytilene] 
+Where is lord Helicanus? he can resolve _ 
+you, 
+
+
+O, here he 4s. ; 
+
+
+tlemen. = 
+Tyr: Sail. Ho, gentlemen! my lord calls, 
+Enter two or three Gentlemen. 
+
+
+First Gent. Doth your lordship call? 
+
+Hel. Gentlemen, there’s some of wor 
+would come aboard; a 
+
+I pray ye, greet them fairly. 10 
+[The Gentlemen and the two Sailors descend, 
+and go on board the barge 
+Enter, from thence, Lysimacuus and Lords; 
+with the Gentlemen and the two Sailors. — 
+Tur. Sail. Sir, ai 
+This is the man that can, in aught you would, 
+Resolve you. q 
+Lys. Hail, reverend sir! the gods preserve 
+you! ‘ 
+Hel. And you, sir, to outlive the age I am 
+And die’ as I would do. : 
+Lys. You wish me well. 
+
+
+PERICLES 
+
+
+1241 
+
+
+_ Being on shore, honouring of Neptune's 
+
+: triumphs, 
+
+Seeing this goodly vessel ride before us, 
+
+1 made to it, to know of whence you are. 
+Hei. First, what is your place? 20 
+Lys. I am the governor of this place you 
+
+_lie before. 
+
+Hel. Sir, 
+
+Our vessel is of Tyre, in it the king; 
+
+A man who for this three months hath not 
+_ spoken 
+
+To any one, nor taken sustenance 
+
+But to- prorogue his grief. 
+
+Lys. Upon what ground is his distempera- 
+
+ture? 
+
+Hel. “Twould be too tedious to repeat; 
+But the main grief springs from the loss 
+Of a beloved daughter and a wife. 
+Lys. May we not see him? 
+~Hel. You may; 
+
+But bootless is your sight: he will not speak 
+
+To any. 
+
+Lys. Yet let me obtain my wish. 
+
+Hel. Behold him. [Pericles discovered.] 
+
+This was a goodly person, 
+
+Till the disaster that, one mortal night, 
+
+Drove him to this. 
+
+Lys. Sir king, all hail! the gods preserve 
+
+you! 
+
+Hail, royal sir! 40 
+Hel. It is in vain; he will not speak to you. 
+
+» First Lord. Sir, 
+
+We have a maid in Mytilene, I durst wager, 
+
+Would win some words of him. 
+
+Lys. Tis well bethought. 
+She pegetoales with her sweet harmony 
+And other chosen attractions, would allure, 
+And make a battery through his deafen'd 
+
+parts, 
+
+Which now are midway stopp'd: 
+
+She is all happy as the fairest of all, 
+
+_ And, with her fellow maids, is now upon 50 
+
+The leafy shelter that abuts against 
+
+The island’s side. 
+
+[Whispers a Lord, who goes off in the 
+barge of Lysimachus. 
+
+Hel. Sure, all’s effectless; yet nothing 
+
+we'll omit 
+
+That bears recovery’s name. 
+
+kindness 
+
+We have stretch’d thus far, let us beseech you 
+' That for our gold we may provision have, 
+Wherein we are not destitute for want, 
+
+But weary for the staleness. 
+
+Ys. O, sir, a courtesy 
+Which if we should deny, the most just gods 
+For every graff would send a caterpillar, 60 
+And so afflict our province. Yet once more 
+Let me entreat to know at large the cause 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+But, since your 
+
+
+Of your king’s sorrow. 
+el. Sit, sir, I will recount it to you: 
+But, see, I am prevented. 
+
+
+Re-enter, from the barge, Lord, with Marina, 
+and a young Lady. 
+
+
+Lys. O, here is 
+The lady that I sent for. Welcome, fair one! 
+Ist not a goodly presence? 
+Hel. She's a gallant lady. 
+Lys. She's such a one, that, were I well 
+assured 
+Came of a gentle kind and noble stock, 
+I"ld wish no better choice, and think me 
+rarely wed. 69 
+Fair one, all goodness that consists in bounty 
+Expect even here, where is a kingly patient: 
+If that thy prosperous and artificial feat 
+Can draw him but to answer thee in aught, 
+Thy sacred physic shall receive such pay 
+As thy desires can wish. 
+
+
+Mar. Sir, I will use 
+My utmost skill in his recovery, 
+Provided 
+
+
+That none but I and my companion maid 
+Be bia to come near him. 
+Come, let us leave her; 
+ail ce gods make her prosperous! 80 
+[Marina sings. 
+Lys, Mark’d he your music? 
+Mar. No, nor look’d on us. 
+Lys. See, she will speak to him. 
+Mar. Hail, sir! my lord, lend ear. 
+Per. Hum, ha! 
+Mar. | am a maid, 
+My lord, that ne'er before invited eyes, 
+But have been gazed on like a comet: 
+speaks, 
+My lord, that, may be, hath endured a grief 
+M ght equal yours, if both were justly weigh’d. 
+Though wayward fortune did malign my state, 
+My derivation was from ancestors 
+Who stood equivalent with mighty kings: 
+But time hath rooted out my parentage, 
+And to the world and awkward casualties 
+Bound me in servitude. [Aside] I will desist; 
+But there is something glows upon my cheek, 
+And whispers in mine ear “Go not till he 
+
+
+she 
+
+
+speak.’ 
+Per. My fortunes—parentage—good parent- 
+age— 
+To equal mine!—was it not thus? what say 
+you? 
+Mar. | said, my lord, if you did know my 
+
+
+parentage, 100 
+You would not do me violence. : 
+Per. I do think so. Pray you, turn your 
+eyes upon me. 
+
+
+PERICLES 
+
+
+[Act V, Sc.) _ 
+
+
+1242 
+You are like something that—What country- 
+woman > 
+Here of these shores? 
+Mar. No, nor of any shores: 
+
+
+Yet I was mortally brought forth, and am 
+No other than I appear. 
+Per. I am great with woe, and shall de- 
+liver weeping. 
+My dearest wife was |.ke this maid, and such 
+a one 
+My daughter might have been: my queen's 
+square brows; 
+Her stature to an inch; as wand-like straight; 
+As silver-voiced; her eyes as jewel-like 111 
+And cased as richly; in pace another Juno; 
+Who starves the ears she feeds, and makes 
+them hungry, 
+The more she gives them speech. Where do 
+you live? 
+Mar. Where I am but a stranger: from 
+the deck 
+You may discern the place. 
+Per. Where were you bred? 
+And how achieved you these endowments, 
+which 
+You make more rich to owe? 
+Mar. If I should tell my history, it would 
+seem 
+Like lies disdain'd in the reporting. 
+Per. Prithee, speak: 120 
+Falseness cannot come from thee; for thou 
+look’st 
+Modest as Justice, and thou seem'st a palace 
+For the crown'd Truth to dwell in: I will 
+believe thee, 
+And make my senses credit thy relation 
+To points that seem impossible; for thou 
+look’st 
+Like one I loved indeed. What were thy 
+friends? 
+Didst thou not say; when I did push thee 
+back— 
+Which was when I perceived thee—that thou 
+
+
+camest 
+From good descending? 
+Mar. So indeed I did. 
+Per. Report thy parentage. I think thou 
+said’st 130 
+
+
+Thou hadst been toss'd from wrong to injury, 
+And that thou thought’st thy griefs might 
+
+equal mine, 
+If both were open'd, 
+
+Mar. Some such thing 
+
+I said, and said no more but what my thoughts 
+Did warrant me was likely. 
+
+er. Tell thy story; 
+If thine consider’d prove the thousandth part 
+Of my endurance, thou art a man, and | 
+Have suffer'd like a girl: yet thou dost look 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+Like Patience gazing on kings’ graves, and 
+smiling 
+
+Extremity out of act. What were thy friends? 
+
+How lost thou them? Thy name, my most 
+kind virgin? 141 
+
+Recount, I do beseech thee: come, sit by me. 
+
+Mar, My name is Marina. 
+
+Per. O, I am mock’d, 
+And thou by some incensed god sent hither 
+To make the world to laugh at mc. 
+
+Mar. Patience, good ir, — 
+Or here I'll cease. 
+
+Per. Nay, I'll be patient. 
+Thou little know’st how thou dost startle me, 
+To call thyself Marina. 
+
+Mar. The name 
+Was given me by one that had some power, | 
+My father, and a king. 
+
+Per, How! a king's daughter? 15] 
+And call’d Marina? 
+
+‘Mar. You said you would believe me; 
+But, not to be a troubler of your peace, 
+
+I will end here. 
+
+Per. But are you flesh and blood? 
+
+Have you a working pulse? and are no fairy ? 
+
+
+Motion! Well; speak on. Where were you 
+born? 
+And wherefore call’d Marina? 
+Mar. Call’d Marina 
+
+
+For I was born at sea. 
+Per, At sea! what mother? 
+are My mother was the daughter of a 
+ing; 
+Who died the*minute I was born, 160 
+As my good nurse Lychorida hath oft 
+Deliver’d weeping. 
+Per, O, stop there a little! 
+[Aside] This is the rarest dream that e’er 
+dull sleep 
+D'd mock sad fools withal: this cannot be: 
+My daughter's buried. Well: where were 
+
+
+you bred? <w 
+I'll hear you more, to the bottom of your 
+story, 1 
+
+
+And never interrupt you. 
+Mar. You scern: believe me, ‘twere best I 
+did give o’er. 
+Per. 1 will believe you by the syllable 
+Of what you shall deliver. Yet, give me leave: 
+How came you in these parts? where were 
+
+
+you bred? 171 
+Mar. The king my father did in Tarsus” 
+leave me; 
+
+
+Till cruel Cleon, with his wicked w’fe, 
+
+Did seek to murder me: and having woo'd 
+
+A villain to attempt it, who having drawn 
+to do’t, 
+
+A crew of pirates came and rescued me; 
+
+Brought me to Mytilene. But, good sir, 
+
+
+Act V, Sc. I]. 
+
+
+Whither will you have me? Why do you 
+
+
+weep? It may be, 
+You think me an impostor: no, good faith; 
+I am the daughter to King Pericles, 180 
+
+
+_If good King Pericles be. 
+Per, -Ho, Helicanus! 
+
+Hel. Calls my lord? 
+
+Per. Thou arta grave and noble counsellor, 
+Most wise in general: tell me, if thou canst, 
+What this maid is, or what is like to be, 
+That thus hath made me weep? 
+
+Hel. I know not; but 
+Here is the regent, sir, of Mytilene 
+Speaks nobly of her. 
+
+Lys. She would never tell 
+Her parentage; being demanded that, 
+She would sit still and weep. 
+
+_ Per, O Helicanus, strike me, honour’d sir; 
+‘Give me a gash, put me to present pain; 
+Lest this great sea of joys rushing upon me 
+O’erbear the shores of my mortality, 
+And drown me with their sweetness. O, 
+come hither, 
+Thou that beget’st him that did thee beget; 
+Thou that wast born at sea, buried at Tarsus, 
+And found at sea again! O Helicanus, 
+Down on thy knees, thank the holy gods as 
+loud 200 
+As thunder threatens us: this is Marina. 
+What was thy mother's name? tell me but that, 
+For truth can never be confirm’d enough, 
+Though doubts did ever sleep. 
+Mar. First, sir, I pray, 
+What is your title? 
+Per. I am Pericles of Tyre: but tell me 
+now 
+My drown’d queen’s name, as in the rest you 
+said 
+Thou hast been godlike perfect, 
+1 The heir of kingdoms and another like 
+To Pericles thy father. 210 
+Mar. Is it no more to be your daughter 
+than 
+To say my mother’s name was Thaisa? 
+Thaisa was my mother, who did end 
+The minute I began. 
+Per. Now, blessing on thee! rise; thou art 
+my child. 
+Give me fresh garments. Mine own, Helicanus; 
+She is not dead at Tarsus, as she should 
+have been, 
+By savage Cleon: she shall tell thee all; 
+When thou shalt kneel, and justify in know- 
+ledge OS 
+She is thy very princess. Who is this? 220 
+Hel. Sir, ‘ts the governor of Mytilene, 
+Who, hearing of your melancholy state, 
+Did come to see you. 
+Per, I embrace you. 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+190 
+
+
+PERICLES 
+
+
+\243 
+
+Give me my robes. I am wild in my be- 
+holding. 
+
+O heavens bless my girl! But, hark, what 
+music ? 
+
+
+Tell Helicanus, my Marina, tell him 
+O’er, point by point, for yet he seems to 
+doubt, 
+
+
+How sure you are my daughter. But, what 
+music ? 
+Hel. My lord, I hear none. 
+Per. None! 230 
+
+
+The music of the spheres! List, my Marina. 
+Lys. It is not good to cross him; give hin 
+
+
+way. 
+Per. Rarest sounds! Do ye not hear? 
+Lys My lord, I hear. [Music, 
+. Per. Most heavenly music! 
+
+
+It nips me unto listening, and thick slumber 
+Hangs upon mine eyes: let me rest. [Sleeps, 
+Lys. A pillow for his head: 
+So, leave him all. Well, my companion 
+friends, 
+If this but answer to my just belief, 
+Ill well remember you. 240 
+[Exeunt all but Pericles. 
+DIANA appears to PERICLES as in a vision, 
+Dia. My temple stands in Ephesus: hie 
+thee thither, 
+And do upon mine altar sacrifice. 
+There, when my maiden priests are met to- 
+gether, 
+Before the people all, 
+Reveal how thou at sea didst lose thy wife: 
+To mourn thy crosses, with thy daughter’s, call 
+And give them repetition to the life. 
+Or perform my bidding, or thou livest in woe; 
+Do it, and happy; by my silver bow! 
+Awake, and tell thy dream. [Disappears. 250 
+Per. Celestal Dian, goddess argentine, 
+
+
+‘I will obey. thee. -Helicanus! 
+
+
+Re-enter HELICANUS, LysimacHus, and 
+
+
+Marina. 
+Hel. Sir? 
+Per. My purpose was for Tarsus, there to 
+strike 
+
+
+The inhospitable Cleon; but I am 
+
+For other service first: toward Ephesus 
+
+Turn our blown sails; eftsoons I ‘ll tell thee 
+why. 
+
+[To Lysimachus] Shall we refresh us, sir, 
+upon your shore, 
+
+And give you go!d for such provision 
+
+As our intents will need? 
+
+
+Lys. Sir, 260 
+With all my heart; and, when you come 
+ashore, 
+I have another suit. 
+Per. You shall prevail, 
+
+
+1244 
+
+
+Were it to woo my daughter; for it seems 
+You have been noble towards her. 
+Lys. Sir, lend me your arm. 
+Per. Come, my Marina. [Exeunt. 
+
+
+Scene IJ. Enter Gower, before the temple 
+of DIANA at Ephesus. 
+
+
+Gow. Now our sands are almost run; 
+More a little, and then dumb. 
+This, my last boon, give me, 
+For such kindness must relieve me, 
+That you aptly will suppose 
+What pageantry, what feats, what shows, 
+What minstrelsy, and pretty din, 
+The regent made in Mytilene 
+To greet the king. So he thrived, 
+That he is promised to be wived 
+To fair Marina; but in no wise 
+Till he had done his sacrifice, 
+As Dian bade: whereto being bound, 
+The interim, pray you, all confound. 
+In feather’d briefness sails are fill’d, 
+And wishes fall out as they ‘re will'd. 
+At Ephesus, the temple see, 
+Our king and all his company. 
+That he can hither come so soon, 
+Is by your fancy’s thankful doom. [Exit. 20 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+Scene III. The temple of Diana at Ephesus; 
+Tuaisa standing near the altar, as high 
+priestess; a number of Virgins on each 
+side; CERIMON and other Inhabitants of 
+Ephesus attending. 
+
+
+Enter PERICLES, with his train; Lysimacuus, 
+Heticanus, Marina, and a Lady. 
+
+
+Per. Hail, Dian! to perform thy just com- 
+mand, 
+I here confess myself the king of Tyre; 
+Who, frighted from my country, did wed 
+At Pentapol’s the fair Thaisa. ~ 
+At sea in childbed died she, but brought forth 
+A maid-child call’d Marina; who, O goddess, 
+Wears yet thy silver livery. She at Tarsus 
+Was nursed with Cleon; who at fourteen years 
+He sought to murder: but her better stars 
+Brought her to Mytilene; ‘gainst whose shore 
+Riding, her fortunes brought the maid aboard us, 
+Where, by her own most clear remembrance, 
+she 
+Made known herself my daughter. 
+Thai. Voice and favour! 
+ou are, you are—O royal Pericles! [Faints. 
+Per. What means the nun? she dies! help, 
+gentlemen! 
+Cer. Noble sir, 
+If you have told Diana's altar true, 
+is is your wife. 
+Per, Reverend appearez, no; 
+
+
+PERICLES 
+
+
+| Leaps to be gone into my mother’s bosom. 
+
+
+[Acr V, ‘Sc. I a 
+
+
+I threw her overboard with these very arms. _ 
+Cer. Upon this coast, I warrant you. : 
+Per, "Tis most certain. 20 - 
+
+. Look to the lady; O, she’s but o'er-— 
+
+joy'd. a 
+
+Early in blustering morn this lady was 
+
+Thrown upon this shore. I oped the coffin, 
+
+Found there rich jewels; recover’d her, and | 
+
+placed her = 
+
+Here in Diana's temple. 
+
+Per, May we see them? 
+Cer. Great sir, they shall be brought you 
+
+
+to my house, 
+Whither I invite you. Look, Thaisa is 
+O, let me look! 
+
+
+Recovered, 
+
+Thai. i 
+If he be none of mine, my sanctity 4 
+Will to my sense bend no licentious ear, 30 
+But curb it, spite of seeing. O, my lord, 
+Are you not Pericles? Like him you spake, 
+Like him you are: did you not name a 
+
+
+tempest, 
+A birth, and death? ! 
+Per. The voice of dead Thaisa! 
+
+
+Thai, That Thaisa am I, supposed dead — 
+And drown’d. ad 
+Per. Immortal Dian! 
+Thai. Now I know you better. 
+When we with tears parted Pentapolis, 
+The king my father gave you such a ring. 
+[Shows a ring. 
+Per. This, this: no more, you gods! your 
+present kindness 40 
+Makes ny past miseries sports: you shall do 
+well, i 
+That on the touching of her lips I may ' 
+Melt and no more be seen. ©O, come, be buried 
+A second time within these arms. ; 
+
+
+Mar. My heart 
+
+
+[Kneels to Thaisa. 
+Per, Look, who kneels here! Flesh of thy 
+flesh, Thaisa; 
+Thy burden at the sea, and call’d Marina 
+For she was yielded there. 
+Thai. Blest, and mine own! 
+Hel. Hail, madam, and my queen! 
+Thai. I know you not. 
+Per. You have heard me say, when I did 
+fly from Tyre, 
+I left behind an ancient substitute: 
+Can you remember what I call’d the man?~ 
+I have named him oft. 4 
+Thai. "Twas Helicanus then. 
+. Still confirmation: 
+Embrace him, dear Thaisa; this is. he. 
+Now do I long to hear how you were found; 
+How possbly preserved; and who to thank, 
+Besides the gods, for this great miracle, 
+
+
+= 
+
+
+‘Act V. Sc. Tit 
+
+
+PERICLES 
+
+
+1245 
+
+
+_ Thai. Lord Cerimon, my lord; this man, 
+Through whom the gods have shown their 
+
+power; that can 60 
+From first to last resolve you. 
+
+Per. Reverend sir, 
+The gods can have no mortal officer 
+More like a god than you. Will you deliver 
+
+How this dead queen re-lives? 
+baer. I will, my lord. 
+Beseech you, first go with me to my house, 
+Where shall be shown you all was found 
+with her; 
+How she came placed here in the temple; 
+No needful thing omitted. 
+
+Per. Pure Dian, bless thee for thy vision! I 
+Will offer night-oblations to thee. Thaisa, 70 
+This prince, the fair-betrothed of your daughter, 
+Shall marry oe at Pentapolis. And now, 
+
+- This ornamen 
+
+_ Makes me Took dismal will I clip to form; 
+
+_ And what this fourteen years no razor touch’d, 
+To grace thy marriage-day, I ‘ll beautify. 
+
+Thai. Lord Cerimon hath letters of good 
+3 credit, sir, 
+
+My father’s dead. 
+
+_ Per, Heavens make a star of him! Yet 
+there, my queen, 
+
+~ We'll celebrate their nuptials, and ourselves 
+
+ae in that kngdém spend our following 
+
+
+poe a cod Pocghtes shall in Tyrus reign. 
+
+
+Lord Cerimon, we do our longing stay 
+To hear the rest untold: sir, lead 's the way. 
+
+
+[Exeunt, 
+Enier Gower. 
+
+
+Gow. In Antiochus and his daughter you 
+
+have heard 
+
+Of monstrous lust the due and just reward: 
+
+In Pericles, his queen and daughter, seen, 
+
+Although assail’d with fortune fierce and 
+keen, 
+
+Virtue preserved from fell destruction’s 
+blast, 
+
+Led on by heaven, and crown’d with joy 
+at last: 90 
+
+In Helicanus may you well descry 
+
+A figure of truth, of faith, of loyalty: 
+
+In reverend Cerimon there well appears 
+
+The worth that learned char‘ty aye wears: 
+
+For wicked Cleon and his wife, when fame 
+
+Had spread their cursed deed, and honour'd 
+name 
+
+Of Pericles, to rage the city turn, 
+
+That him and his they im his palace burn; 
+
+The gods for murder seemed so content 
+
+To punish them; although not done, but 
+meant. 100 
+
+So, on your patience evermore attending, 
+
+New joy wait on you! Here our play has 
+ending. [ Exit. 
+
+
+VENUS AND ADONIS 
+
+
+‘Vilia miretur yulgus; mihi flavus Apollo 
+Pocula Castalia plena ministret aqua.’ 
+
+
+TO THE ‘ 
+RIGHT HONOURABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLY, 
+EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON, AND BARON OF TICHFIELD. 
+
+
+Ricut HonouraB_e_, 
+
+
+I KNow not how I shall offend in dedicating my unpolished lines to your lordship, 
+nor how the world will censure me for choosing so strong a prop to support so weak a burden: 
+only if your honour seem but pleased, I account myself highly praised, and vow to take advan- 
+tage of all idle hours, till I have honoured you with some graver labour. But if the first heir 
+of my invention prove deformed, I shall be sorry it had so noble a god-father, and never after 
+ear so barren a land, for fear it yield me still so bad a harvest. 
+survey, and your honour to your heart's content; 
+
+
+wish and the world’s hopeful expectation. 
+
+
+Your honour’s in all duty, 
+
+
+Even as the sun with purple-colour'd face 
+Had ta’en his last leave of the weeping morn, 
+Rose-cheek’d Adonis hied him to the chase; 
+Hunting he loved, but love he laugh’d to scorn; 
+Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto 
+
+
+him, 
+And like a boid-faced suitor ‘gins to woo him. 
+
+
+‘Thrice-fairer than myself,’ thus she began, 
+‘The field’s chef flower, sweet above compare, 
+Stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man, 
+More white and red than doves or roses are; 
+Nature that made thee, with herself at strife, 
+Saith that the world hath ending with thy 
+life. 
+
+
+‘Vouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed, 
+And rein his proud head to the saddle-bow; 
+If thou wilt deign this favour, for thy meed 
+A thousand honey secrets shalt thou know: 
+Here come end sit, where never serpent 
+hisses, 
+And being set, I "II smother thee with kisses; 
+
+
+“And yet not cloy thy lips with loathed satiety, 
+But rather famish them amid their plenty, 20 
+Making them red and pale with fresh yariety, 
+Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty: 
+A summer's day will seem an hour but short, 
+Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport.’ 
+
+
+1246 
+
+
+I leave it to your honourable 
+which I wish may always answer your own 
+
+
+WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 
+
+
+With this she seizeth on his sweating palm, 
+The precedent of pith and livelihood, 
+And trembling in her passion, calls it balm, 
+Earth’s sovereign salve to do a goddess good: 
+Being so enraged, desire doth lend her-force _ 
+Courageously to pluck him from his horse. 
+Over one arm the lusty courser’s rein, 31 
+Under her other was the tender boy, 
+Who blush’d and pouted in a dull disdain, 
+With leaden appetite, unapt to toy; 
+She red and hot as coals of glowing fire, 
+He red for shame, but frosty in desire, 
+
+
+The studded bridle on a ragged bough 
+Nimbly she fastens: —O, how quick is love!— _ 
+The steed is stalled up, and even now ] 
+To tie the rider she begins to prove: 40 
+Backward she push'd him, as she would be 
+thrust, 
+And govern'd him in strength, though not 
+in lust. 
+
+
+So soon was she along as he was down, 
+
+Each leaning on their elbows and their hips: 
+
+Now doth she stroke h’s cheek, now doth he 
+
+frown, 
+
+And ‘gins to chide, but soon she stops his lips; 
+And kissing speaks, with lustful language — 
+
+; broken, 
+‘If thou wilt chide, thy lips shall never open.” _ 
+
+
+VENUS AND ADONIS 1247 
+
+
+He burns with bashful shame: she with her 
+tears 
+_ Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks; 
+Then with her windy sighs and golden hairs 
+To fan and blow them dry again she seeks: 
+He saith she is immodest, blames her "miss; 
+What follows more she murders with a kiss 
+
+
+*O, pity,” ‘gan she cry, ‘flint-hearted boy! 
+"Tis but a kiss I beg; why art thou coy? 
+
+
+‘I have been woo'd, as I entreat thee now, 
+Even by the stern and direful god of war, 
+Whose sinewy neck in battle ne'er did bow, 
+Who conquers where he comes in every jar; 
+Yet hath he been my captive and my slave, 
+And begg'd for that which thou unask'd 
+shalt have. 
+
+
+I 
+
+
+Even as an empty eagle, sharp by fast, 
+Tires with her beak on feathers, flesh and bone, 
+Shaking her wings, devouring all in haste, 
+Till either gorge be stuff'd or prey be gone; 
+
+__ Even so she kissed his brow, his cheek, his 
+| chin, 
+
+And where she ends she doth anew begin. 
+
+
+‘Over my altars hath he hung his lance, 
+His batter'd shield, his uncontrolled crest, 
+And for my sake hath learn'd to sport and 
+ance, 
+To toy, to wanton, dally, smile and jest, 
+Scorning his churlish drum and ensign red, 
+Making my arms his field, his tent my bed. 
+
+
+Forced to content, but never to obey, 
+Panting he lies and breatheth in her face; 
+_ She feedeth on the steam as on a prey, 
+And calls it heavenly moisture, air of grace; 
+Wishing her cheeks were gardens full of 
+
+
+“Thus he that overruled [ oversway d, 
+Leading him prisoner in a red-rose chain: 110 
+
+
+flowers, Strong-tempered steel his stronger strength 
+So they were dew’d with such distilling obey'd, : tt: 
+showers. Yet was he servile to my coy disdain. 
+
+
+O, be not proud, nor brag not of thy might, 
+
+
+Look, how a bird lies tangled in a net, For mastering her that foil’d the god of fight! 
+
+
+So fasten'd in her arms Adonis lies; 
+
+Pure shame and awed resistance made him fret, 
+
+Which bred more beauty in his angry eyes: 70 
+Rain -added to a river that is rank 
+Perforce will force it overflow the bank. 
+
+
+“Touch but my lips with those fair lips of 
+thine,— 
+Though mine be not so fair, yet are they red— 
+The kiss shall be thine own as well as mine. 
+What seest thou in the ground? hold up thy 
+ead: 3 
+Look in mine eye-balls, there thy beauty lies; 
+Then why not lips on lips, since eyes in eyes? 
+
+
+Still she entreats, and prettily entreats, 
+For to a pretty ear she tunes her tale; 
+Still is he sullen, still he lours and frets, 
+*Twixt crimson shame and anger ashy-pale: 
+Being red, she loves him best; and being 
+white, 
+Her best is better’d with a more delight. 
+
+
+*Art thou ashamed to kiss? then wink again, 
+
+And I will wink; so shall the day seem night; 
+
+Love keeps his revels where there are bu, 
+twain; 
+
+Be bold to play, our sport is not in sight: 
+These blue-vein'd violets whereon we lean 
+Never can blab, nor know not what we 
+
+mean. 
+
+
+Look how he can, she cannot choose but love; 
+
+And by her fair immortal hand she swears, 80 
+
+From his soft bosom never to remove, 
+
+Till he take truce with her contending tears, 
+Which long have rain'd, making her cheeks 
+
+
+all wet; ‘The tender spring upon thy tempting lip 
+And one sweet k’ss shall pay this countless | Shows thee unripe; yet mayst thou well: be 
+ebt. tasted: 
+
+
+Make use of time, let not advantage slip; 
+eauty within itself should not be wasted: 130 
+Fair flowers that are not gather'd in their 
+
+prime 
+Rot and consume themselves in little time. 
+
+
+“Were I hard-favour'd, foul, or wrinkled-old, 
+I]l-nurtured, crooked, churlish, harsh in voice, 
+O’erworn, despised, rheumatic and cold, 
+Thick-sighted, barren, lean and lacking juice, 
+Then mightst thou pause, for then I were 
+not for thee; 
+But having no defects, why dost abhor me? 
+
+
+Upon this promise did he raise his chin, 
+
+Like a dive-dapper peering through a wave, 
+
+Who, being look’d on, ducks as quickly in; 
+
+So offers he to give what she did crave; 
+But when her lips were ready for his pay, 
+He winks, and turns his lips another way. 90 
+
+
+Never did passenger in summer's heat 
+
+More thirst for drink than she for this good 
+turn. 
+
+Her help she sees, but help she cannot get; 
+
+She bathes in water, yet her fire must burn: 
+
+
+1248 
+
+
+"Thou canst not see one wrinkle in my brow; 
+Mine eyes are gray and bright and quick in 
+turning; 140 
+My beauty as the spring doth yearly grow, 
+My flesh is soft and plump, my marrow 
+burning; 
+My smooth moist hand, were it with thy 
+hand felt, 
+
+
+Would in thy palm dissolve, or seem to melt. 
+
+
+*Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear, 
+Or, like» a fairy, trip upon the green, 
+Or, like a nymph, with long dishevell’d hair, 
+Dance on the sands, and yet no footing seen: 
+Love is a spirit all compact of fire, 
+Not gross to sink, but light, and will aspire. 
+
+
+“Witness this primrose bank whereon I lie; 
+‘These forceless flowers like sturdy trees sup- 
+
+
+port me; 
+
+Two strengthless doves will draw me through 
+the sky, 
+
+From morn till night, even where I list to 
+sport me: 
+
+
+Is love so light, sweet boy, and may it be 
+That thou shouldst think it heavy unto thee? 
+
+
+“Is thine own heart to thine own face affected ? 
+Can thy right hand seize love upon thy left? 
+Then woo thyself, be of thyself rejected, 
+Steal thine own freedom and complain on theft. 
+Narcissus so himself himself forsook, 161 
+
+
+And died to kiss his shadow in the brook. 
+
+
+*Torches are made to light, jewels to wear, 
+Dainties to taste, fresh beauty for the use, 
+Herbs for their smell, and sappy plants to bear; 
+Things growing to themselves are growth’s 
+abuse: 
+Seeds spring from seeds and beauty breed- 
+eth beauty ; 
+Thou wast begot; to get it is thy duty. 
+
+
+"Upon the earth’s increase why shouldst thou 
+feed, 
+Unless the earth with thy increase be fed? 
+By law of nature thou art bound to breed, 
+That thine may live when thou thyself art 
+dead; 
+And so, in spite of death, thou dost survive, 
+In that thy likeness still is left alive.’ 
+
+
+By this the love-sick queen began to sweat, 
+For where they lay the shadow had forsook 
+them, 
+And Titan, tired in the mid-day heat, 
+With burning eye did hotly overlook them; 
+Wishing Adon’‘s had his team to guide, 
+So he were like him and by Venus’ side. 
+
+
+VENUS AND ADONIS 
+
+
+And now, Adonis, with a lazy spright, 
+And with a heavy, dark, disliking eye, 
+His louring brows o’erwhelming his fair sight, 
+Like misty vapours when they blot the sky, 
+Souring his cheeks cries ‘Fie, no more of — 
+love! Z 
+The sun doth burn my face; I must remove.’ 
+
+
+‘Ay me,’ quoth Venus, ‘young, and so unkind? 
+What bare excuses makest thou to be gone! 
+I'll sigh celestial breath, whose gentle wind 
+Shall cool the heat, of this descending sun: 
+I'll make a shadow for thee of my hairs; — 
+If they burn too, I'll quench them with my — 
+tears. 
+
+
+‘The sun that shines from heaven shines but — 
+warm, s 
+And, lo, I lie between that sun and thee: 
+The heat I have from thence doth little harm, — 
+Thine eye darts forth the fire that burneth me; — 
+And were I not immortal, life were done 
+Between this heavenly and earthly sun, 
+
+
+‘Art thou obdurate, flinty, hard as steel, 
+Nay, more than flint, for stone at rain relenteth ? 
+Art thou a woman’s son, and canst not feel — 
+What ‘tis to love? how want of love tor- 
+menteth > q 
+O, had thy mother borne so hard a mind, — 
+She had not brought forth thee, but died 
+
+
+unkind. 
+
+
+“What am I, that thou shouldst contemn me 
+this ? “ a 
+
+Or what great danger dwells upon my suit? _ 
+What were thy lips the worse for one poor kiss? 
+Speak, fair; but speak fair words, or else be 
+mute: iit 
+G've me one-kiss, I ‘ll give it thee again, — 
+And one for interest, if thou wilt have twain. 
+
+
+‘Fie, lifeless picture, cold and senseless stone, 
+Well-painted idol, image dull and dead, 
+Statue contenting but the eye alone, : 
+Think like a man, but of no woman bred! 
+Thou art no man, though of a man’s com- 
+plexion, ; 
+For men will kiss even by their own direc- 
+tion.’ ‘F 
+
+
+This said, impatience chokes her pleading 
+tongue, 
+And swelling passion doth provoke a pause; — 
+Red cheeks and fiery eyes blaze forth her 
+wrong; . 
+Being judge in love, she cannot right her 
+cause: a 
+And now she weeps, and now she fain 
+would speak, 221 
+And now her sobs do her intendments break. 
+
+
+Sometimes she shakes her head and then his 
+hand, © 
+| Now gazeth she on him, now on the ground; 
+Sometimes her arms infold him like a band: 
+She would, he will not in her arms be bound; 
+And when from thence he struggles to be 
+‘one, 
+| She locks her lily fingers one in one. 
+
+
+‘Fondling,’ she saith, ‘since I have hemm’d 
+thee here 
+Within the circuit of this ivory pale, 230 
+I ‘ll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer; 
+Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale: 
+Graze on my I ps; and if those hills be dry, 
+Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie. 
+
+
+“Within this limit is relief enough, 
+
+‘Sweet bottom-grass and high delightful plain, 
+
+Round rising hillocks, brakes obscure and 
+
+rough, 
+
+To shelter thee from tempest and from rain: 
+Then be my deer, since I am such a park; 
+No dog shall rouse thee, though a thousand 
+
+bark.’ 240 
+
+
+At this Adonis smiles as in disdain, 
+
+That in each cheek appears a pretty dimple: 
+
+Love made those hollows, if himself were slain, 
+
+He might be buried in a tomb so simple; 
+Foreknowing well, if there he came to lie, 
+Why, there Love lived and there he could 
+
+
+not die. 
+
+
+These lovely caves, these round enchanting pits, 
+Ofen’d their mouths to swallow Venus’ |-king. 
+Being mad before, how doth she now for wits? 
+Struck dead at first, what needs a second 
+
+
+striking ? 250 
+Poor queen of love, in thine own law 
+forlorn, 
+
+
+To love a cheek that smiles at thee in scorn! 
+
+
+Now which way shall she turn? what shall 
+she say? 
+Her words are done, her woes the more in- 
+creasing; 
+The time is spent, her object will away, 
+And from her twining arms doth urge releasing. 
+‘Pity,’ she cries, “some favour, some remorse!’ 
+Away he springs and hasteth to his horse. 
+
+
+But, lo, from forth a copse that neighbours by, 
+A breeding jennet, lusty, young and proud, 
+Adonis’ trampling courser doth espy, 
+And forth she rushes, snorts and neighs aloud: 
+The strong-neck'd steed, being tied unto a 
+tree, 
+_ Breaketh his rein, and to her straight goes he. 
+
+
+VENUS AND ADONIS - 
+
+
+1249 
+
+
+Imperiously he leaps, he neighs, he bounds, 
+And now his woven girths he breaks asunder; 
+The bearing earth with his hard hoof he 
+wounds, ; 
+Whose hollow womb resounds like heaven's 
+thunder; 
+The iron bit he crusheth ‘tween his teeth, 
+Controlling what he was controlled with. 
+
+
+His ears up-prick’d; his braided hanging mane 
+Upon his compass’d crest now stand on end; 
+His nostrils drink the air, and forth again, 
+As from a furnace, vapours doth he send: 
+His eye, which scornfully glisters like fire, 
+Shows his hot courage and his high desire. 
+
+
+Sometime he trots, as if he told the steps, 
+With gentle majesty and modest pride; 
+Anon he rears upright, curvets and leaps, 
+As who should. say ‘Lo, thus my strength is 
+tried, 280 
+And this I do to captivate the eye 
+Of the fair breeder that is standing by.” 
+
+
+What recketh he his rider's angry stir, 
+His flattering ‘Holla,’ or his “Stand, I say’? 
+What cares he now for curb or pricking spur? 
+For rich caparisons or trapping gay? 
+He sees his love, and nothing else he sees, 
+For nothing else with his proud sight agrees. 
+
+
+Look, when a painter would surpass the life, 
+In limning out a well-proportion'd steed, 290 
+His art with nature’s workmanship at strife, 
+As if the dead the living should exceed; 
+
+So did this horse excel a common one 
+
+In shape, in courage, colour, pace and bone. 
+
+
+Round-hoof'd, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and 
+long, 
+Broad breast, full eye, small head and nostril 
+wide, : 
+High crest, short ears, straight legs and pass- 
+ing strong, 
+Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender 
+hide: 
+Look, what a horse should have he did not 
+lack, 
+Save a proud rider on so proud a back. 300 
+
+
+Sometime he scuds far off and there he stares; 
+Anon he starts at stirring of a feather; 
+To bid the wind a base he now prepares, 
+And whether he run or fly they know not 
+whether; 
+For through his mane and tail the high 
+wind sings, 
+Fanning the hairs, who wave like feather'd 
+wings, 
+
+
+- 
+
+
+1250 
+
+
+He looks upon his love and neighs unto her; 
+She answers him as if she knew his mind: 
+Being proud, as females are, to see him woo her, 
+She puts on outward strangeness, seems unkind, 
+
+
+Spurns at his love and scorns the heat he 
+feels, 311 
+
+Beating his. kind embracements with her 
+heels. 
+
+
+Then, like a melancholy malcontent, 
+
+He vails his tail that, like a falling plume, 
+
+Cool shadow to his melt ng buttock lent: 
+
+He stamps and bites the poor flies in his fume. 
+His love, perceiving how he is enraged, 
+Grew kinder, and his fury was assuaged. 
+
+
+His testy master goeth about to take him; 
+When, lo, the unback'd breeder, full of fear, 
+Jealous of catching, swiftly doth forsake hm, 
+With her the horse, and left Adonis there: 
+As they were mad, unto the wood they hie 
+them, 
+Out-stripping crows that strive to over-fly 
+them. 
+
+
+All swoln with chafing, down Adonis sits, 
+Banning his boisterous and unruly beast: 
+And now the happy season once more fits, 
+That love-sick Love by pleading may be blest; 
+For lovers say, the heart hath treble wrong 
+When it is barr'd the aidance of the tongue, 
+
+
+An oven that is stopp’d, or river stay’d, 33] 
+
+Burneth more hotly, swelleth with more rage: 
+
+So of concealed sorrow may be said; 
+
+Free vent of words love's fire doth assuage; 
+But when the heart's attorney once is mute, 
+The client breaks, as desperate in his suit. 
+
+
+He sees her coming, and begins to glow, 
+Even as a dying coal revives with wind, 
+And with his bonnet hides his angry brow; 
+Looks on the dull earth with disturbed mind, 
+Taking no notice that she is so-nigh, 34] 
+For all askance he holds her in his eye. 
+
+
+O, what a sight it was, wistly to view 
+How she came stealing to the wayward boy! 
+To note the fighting conflict of her hue, 
+How white and red each other did destroy! 
+But now her cheek was pale, and by and by 
+It pune forth fire, as lightning from the 
+sky. 
+
+
+Now was she just before hm as he sat, 
+And like a lowly lover down she kneels; 350 
+With one fair hand she heaveth up his hat, 
+Her other tender hand his fair cheek feels: 
+His tenderer cheek receives her soft hand's 
+print, 
+As apt as new-fall'n snow takes any dint 
+
+
+VENUS AND ADONIS 
+
+
+O, what a war of looks was hen between them! 
+Her eyes petitioners to his eyes suing; 
+His eyes saw her eyes as they had not seen 
+
+
+them; 
+Her eyes woo'd still, his eyes disdain’d the 
+wooing: 
+And all this dumb play had his acts made 
+plain 
+With tears, which, chorus-like, her eyes did 
+rain. 
+
+
+360 
+
+
+Full gently now she takes him by the hand, 
+
+A lily prison’d in a gaol of snow, 
+
+Or ivory in an alabaster band; 
+
+So white a frend engirts so white a foe: 
+This beauteous combat, wilful and unwilling, 
+Show’d like two silver doves that sit a-billing. 
+
+
+Once more the engine of her thoughts began: 
+‘O fairest mover on this mortal round, 
+Would thou wert as I am, and I a man, 
+My heart all whole as thine, thy heart my 
+
+
+wound; 370 | 
+
+For one sweet look thy help I would assure 
+thee, 
+
+Though nothing but my body’s bane would 
+
+cure thee.’ : 
+
+‘Give me my hand,’ saith he, ‘why dost thou 
+feel it?’ 
+
+‘Give me my heart,’ sa:th she, ‘and thou shalt 
+have it; 
+
+
+O, give it me, lest thy hard heart do steel it, 
+And being steel’d, soft sighs can never grave it: 
+Then love's deep groans I never shail 
+regard, : 
+Because Adonis’ heart hath made mine hard.” 
+
+
+‘For shame, he cries, ‘let go, and let me g0; 
+
+My day’s delight is past, my horse is gone, 
+
+And ‘tis your fault I am bereft him so: 
+
+I pray you hence, and leave me here alone; 
+For all my mind, my thought, my busy ca 
+Is how to get my palfrey from the mare.’ 
+
+
+Thus she replies: “Thy palfrey, as he should, 
+Welcomes the warm approach of sweet desire 
+Affection is a coal that must be cool’d; 
+Else, suffer'd, it will set the heart on fire: 
+The sea hath bounds, but deep desire hath 
+none; 
+Therefore no marvel though thy horse be 
+gone. 3 
+
+
+‘How like a jade he stood, tied to the tree, _ 
+Servilely master'd with a leathern rein! 
+But when he saw his love, his youth’s fair fee, 
+He held such petty bondage in disdain; 
+Throwing the base thong from his bendin 
+crest, . ; 
+Enfranchising his mouth, his back, his breast. 
+
+
+i. 
+
+
+r 
+
+
+VENUS AND ADONIS 
+
+
+1251 
+
+
+Who sees his true-love in her naked bed, 
+Teaching the sheets a whiter hue than white, 
+But, when his glutton eye so full hath fed, 
+His other agents aim at like delight? 
+Who is so faint, that dares not be so bold 
+To touch the fire, the weather being cold? 
+
+
+“Let me excuse thy courser, gentle boy; 
+And learn of him, | heartily beseech thee, 
+To take advantage on presented joy; 
+Though I were dumb, yet his proceedings 
+teach thee: 
+O, learn to love; the lesson is but plain, © 
+“And once made perfect, never lost again.’ 
+
+
+‘I know not love,’ quoth he, ‘nor will not 
+know it, 
+Unless it be a boar, and then I chase it; 410 
+*Tis much to borrow, and | will not owe it; 
+My love to love is love but to disgrace it; 
+For I have heard it is a life in death, 
+That laughs and weeps, and all but with a 
+breath. 
+
+
+“Who wears a garment shapeless and unfin- 
+ish’d? 
+Who plucks the bud before one leaf put 
+forth? 
+If springing things be any jot diminish’d, 
+They wither in their prime, prove nothing 
+worth: 
+The colt that’s back’d and burden’d being 
+young 
+Loseth h.s pride and never waxeth strong. 
+
+
+“You hurt my hand with wringing; let us part, 
+And leave this idle theme, this bootless chat: 
+Remove your siege from my unyielding heart; 
+To love's alarms it will not ope the gate. 
+Dismiss your vows, your feigned tears, your 
+flattery ; 
+For where a heart is hard they make no 
+battery.’ 
+
+
+“What! canst thou talk>’ 
+thou a tongue? 
+O, would thou hadst not, or I had no hearing! 
+
+
+quoth she, ‘hast 
+
+
+ae Ly. mermaid’s voice hath done me double 
+
+
+wrong 
+I a ba ead before, now press’d with bear- 
+
+
+Melodious discord, heavenly tune harsh- 
+sounding, 431 
+
+Ear’s deep-sweet music, and heart's deep- 
+sore wounding. 
+
+
+‘Had I no eyes but ears, my ears would love 
+
+That inward beauty and invisible; 
+
+Or were I deaf, thy outward parts would 
+move 
+
+
+Each part in me that were but sensible: 
+Though neither eyes nor ears, to hear non 
+see, 
+
+
+400} Yet should I be in love by touching thee. 
+
+
+“Say, that the sense of feeling were bereft me, 
+And that I could not see, nor hear, nor touch, 
+And nothing but the very smell were left me, 
+Yet would my love to thee be still as much; 
+For from the stillitory of thy face excelling 
+Comes breath perfumed that breedeth love 
+by smelling. 
+
+
+‘But, O, what banquet wert thou to the taste, 
+Being nurse and feeder of the other four! 
+Would they not wish the feast might ever last, 
+And bid Suspicion double-lock the door, 
+Lest Jealousy, that sour unwelcome guest, 
+
+
+Should, by his stealing in, disturb the feast?’ 
+
+
+Once more the ruby-colour'd portal open’d, 
+Which to his speech did honey passage yield; 
+Like a red morn, that ever yet betoken’d 
+Wreck to the seaman, tempest to the field, 
+Sorrow to shepherds, woe unto the birds, 
+Gusts and foul flaws to herdmen and to 
+
+
+herds. 
+
+
+This ill presage advisedly she marketh: 
+Even as the wind is hush'd before it raineth, 
+Or as the wolf doth grin before he barketh, 
+Or as the berry breaks before it staineth, 460 
+Or like the deadly bullet of a gun, 
+His meaning struck her ere his words 
+begun. 
+
+
+And at his look she flatly falleth down, 
+For looks kill love and love by looks re- 
+viveth; 
+A smile recures the wounding of a frown; 
+But eae bankrupt, that by love so thriv- 
+eth! 
+The silly boy, believing she is dead, 
+Claps nie pale cheek, till clapping makes it 
+red; 
+
+
+And all amazed brake off his late intent, 
+
+For sharply he did think to reprehend her, 470 
+
+Which cunning love did wittily prevent: 
+
+Fair fall the wit that can so well defend her! 
+For on the grass she lies as she were slain, 
+
+
+Till his breath breatheth life in her again. 
+
+
+He wrings her nose, he strikes her on the 
+cheeks, 
+He bends her fingers, holds her pulses hard, 
+He chafes her lips; a thousand ways he seeks 
+To mend the hurt that his untindness marr'd: 
+He kisses her; and she, by her good will, 
+Will never rise, so he will kiss her still. 480 
+
+
+1252 ~ 
+
+
+VENUS AND ADONIS 
+
+
+The night of sorrow now is turn’d to day: 
+Her two blue windows faintly she up-heaveth, 
+Like the fair sun, when in his fresh array 
+He cheers the morn and all the earth re- 
+lieveth; 
+And as the bright sun glorifies the sky, 
+So is her face illumined with her eye; 
+
+
+Whose beams upon his hairless face are fix’d, 
+As if from thence they borrow’d all their 
+shine. 
+Were never four such lamps together mix’d, 
+Had not his clouded with his brow’s repine; 
+But hers, which through the crystal tears 
+gave light, 
+Shone like the moon in water seen by night. 
+
+
+‘O, where am I>’ quoth she, ‘in earth or 
+heaven, 
+Or in the ocean drench’d, or in the fire? 
+What hour is this? or morn or weary even? 
+Do I delight to die, or life desire? 
+But now I lived, and life was death's an- 
+
+
+noy; 
+But now I died, and death was lively joy. 
+
+
+‘O, thou didst kill me: kill me once again: 
+Thy eyes’ shrewd tutor, that hard heart of 
+thine, 500 
+Hath taught them scornful tricks and such 
+disdain 
+That they have murder’d this poor heart of 
+mine; 
+And these mine eyes, true leaders to their 
+queen, 
+But for thy piteous lips no more had seen. 
+
+
+“Long may they kiss each other, for this cure! 
+O, never let their crimson liveries wear! 
+And as they last, their verdure still endure, 
+To drive infection from the dangerous year! 
+That the star-gazers, having writ on death, 
+May say, the plague is banish’d by thy 
+
+
+breath. 510 
+“Pure lips, sweet seals in my soft lips im- 
+printed, 
+What bargains may I make, still to be seal- 
+ing? 
+
+
+To sell myself I can be well contented, 
+So thou w.lt buy and pay and use'good deal- 
+
+
+Which purchase if thou make, for fear of 
+slips 
+Set thy seal-manual on my wax-red lips. 
+
+
+“A thousand kisses buys my heart from me; 
+And pay them at thy leisure, one by one. 
+What is ten hundred touches unto thee? 
+
+
+Are they not quickly told and quickly gone? 
+Say, for non-payment that'the debt should 
+double, 521 
+Is twenty hundred kisses such a trouble?’ 
+
+
+‘Fair queen,’ quoth he, ‘if any love you owe 
+me, 
+
+Measure my strangeness with my unripe years: 
+
+Before I know myself, seek not to know me; 
+No fisher but the ungrown fry forbears: 
+
+The mellow plum doth fall, the green sticks 
+
+fast, } 
+
+Or being early pluck’d is sour to taste. 
+
+
+‘Look, the world’s comforter, with weary gait, 
+His day’s hot task hath ended in the west; 
+The owl, night's herald, shrieks, ‘* "Tis very 
+
+
+late;”” 
+The sheep are gone to fold, birds to’ their 
+nest, 
+And coal-black clouds that shadow heay- 
+en’s light 
+
+
+Do summon us to part and bid good night. 
+
+
+“Now let me say “Good night,” and so say 
+you; 
+If you will say so, you shall have a kiss.’ 
+‘Good night,’ quoth she, and, ere he says 
+‘Adieu,’ ( 
+The honey fee of parting tender'd is: 
+Her arms do lend his neck a sweet em- 
+
+
+brace; 
+Incorporate then they seem; face grows to — 
+face. 540 
+Till, breathless, he disjoin'd, and backward 4 
+drew on 
+
+
+The heavenly moisture, that sweet coral mouth, 
+Whose: precious taste her thirsty lips well 
+knew, ‘= 
+Whereon they surfeit, yet complain on 
+drouth: j 
+
+He with her plenty press’d, she faint with 
+dearth, =a 
+
+Their lips together glued, fall to the earth, 
+
+
+Now quick desire hath caught the yielding 
+
+
+prey, 
+And glutton-like she feeds, yet never filleth; 
+Her lips are conquerors, his lips obey, sd 
+Paying what ransom the insulter willeth; 550 
+Whose vulture thought doth pitch’ the price 
+so high, # 
+
+That she will draw his lips’ rich treasure _ 
+dry: 
+
+
+And having felt the sweetness of the spoil, mS 
+With blindfold fury she begins to forage; 
+Her ie doth reek and smoke, her blood doth 
+
+oil, 
+
+
+VENUS AND ADONIS 
+
+
+And careless lust stirs up a desperate courage; 
+Planting oblivion, beating reason back, 
+Forgetting shame’s pure blush and hon- 
+
+our’s wrack, 
+
+
+Hot, faint, and weary, with her hard em- 
+
+
+bracing, 
+Like a wild bird being tamed with too much 
+» handling 560 
+Or as the fleet-foot roe that’s tired with 
+chasing, 
+Or like the froward infant still’d with dandl- 
+
+
+Ags aj: 
+“He now obeys, and now no more resisteth, 
+While. she. takes all she can, not all she 
+
+listeth... 
+
+
+What wax so frozen but dissolves with tem- 
+per.ng, 
+
+And yields at last to very light impression ? 
+
+Things out of hope are compass'd oft with 
+
+~~ 5. venturing, 
+
+Chiefly in love, whose leave excceds commis- 
+
+
+sion: 
+Affection faints not like a pale-faced cow- 
+ard, 
+But then woos best when most his choice is 
+froward. 570 
+When he did frown, O, had she then gave 
+aie hover: 
+
+
+Such nectar from his lips she had not suck'd. 
+Foul words and frowns must’ not repel a lover; 
+What though the rose have prickles, yet ‘tis 
+' pluck'd: 
+Were beauty under twenty locks kept fast, 
+Yet love breaks through and picks them all 
+at last. 
+
+
+For pity now she can no more detain him; 
+The poor fool prays her that he may depart: 
+She is resolved no longer to restrain him; 579 
+Bids him farewell, and look well to her heart, 
+The which, by Cupid’s bow she doth pro- 
+teste 
+He carries thence incaged in his breast. 
+
+
+‘Sweet boy,” she says, ‘this night I'll waste in 
+_ sorrow, 
+For my sick heart commands mine eyes to 
+‘ watch. 
+Tell me, Love's master, shall we meet to- 
+morrow > 
+Say, shall we? shall we? wilt thou make the 
+match >?’ 
+He tells her, no; to-morrow he intends 
+To hunt the boar with certain of his friends, 
+
+
+1253 
+
+
+Usurps her cheek; she trembles at his tale, 
+
+And on h’s neck her yoking arms she throws: 
+She sinketh down, still hanging by his neck, 
+He on her belly falls, she on her back. 
+
+
+Now is she in the very lists of love, 
+Her champion mounted for the hot en- 
+counter: 
+All is imaginary she doth prove, 
+He yall not manage her, although he mount 
+er; 
+That worse than Tantalus’ is her annoy, 
+To clip Elysium and to lack her joy. 600 
+
+
+Even as poor birds, deceived with painted 
+grapes, 
+Do surfeit by the eye’ and pine the maw, 
+Even so she languisheth in her mishaps, 
+As those poor birds that helpless berries saw. 
+The warm effects which she in him finds 
+missing 
+She seeks to kindle with continual kissing. 
+
+
+But all in vain; good queen, it will not be: 
+She hath assay’d as much as may be proved; 
+Her pleading hath deserved a greater fee; 609 
+She's Love, she loves, and yet she is not 
+loved, 
+‘Fie, fie,” he says, “you crush’ me; let me 
+£0; 
+You have no reason to withhold me so.” 
+
+
+“Thou hadst been gone,’ quoth she, ‘sweet boy, 
+ere this, 
+
+But that thou told’st me thou wouldst hunt 
+the boar. 
+
+
+O, be advised! thou know’st Kot’ what It is 
+
+With javelin’s point a churl sh swine to gore, 
+
+Whose tushes never ‘sheathed he whetteth 
+still, 
+
+Like to a mortal butcher bent to kill. 
+
+
+‘On his bow-back he hath a battle set 
+
+Of bristly pikes, that ever threat his foes; 620 
+
+His eyes, like glow-worms, shine when he doth 
+
+fret; 
+
+His snout digs sepulchres where’er he goes; 
+
+Being moved, he strikes whate’er is in his 
+
+way, 
+
+And whom he strikes his crooked tushes 
+
+slay. 
+
+
+‘His brawny sides, with hairy bristles arm'd, 
+Are better proof than. thy spear'’s point can 
+enter; 
+
+His short thick neck cannot be easily harm’d: 
+Being ireful, on the lion he will venture: 
+
+
+“The boar!" quoth she; whereat a sudden pale, 
+Like lawn being spread upon the blushing 
+rose, 590 
+
+
+The thorny brambles and embrac ng bushes, 
+As fearful of him, part, through whom he 
+rushes, 630 
+
+
+1254 
+
+
+“Alas, he nought esteems that face of thine, 
+To which Love's eyes pay tributary gazes; 
+Nor thy soft hands, sweet lips and crystal 
+eyne, 
+Whose full perfection all the world amazes; 
+But having thee at vantage,—wondrous 
+dread!— 
+Would root these beauties as he roots the 
+mead, 
+
+
+‘O, let him keep his loathsome cabin still; 
+
+Beauty hath nought to do with such foul 
+fiends: 
+
+Come not within his danger by thy will; 
+
+They that thrive well take counsel of their 
+
+
+friends, 640 
+
+When thou didst name the boar, not to dis- 
+semble, 
+
+I fear'd thy fortune, and my joints did 
+tremble. 
+
+
+‘Didst thou not mark my face? was it not 
+white > 
+Saw’st thou not signs of fear lurk in mine eye? 
+Grew I not faint? and fell I not downright ? 
+Within my bosom, whereon thou dost lie, 
+My boding heart pants, beats, and takes no 
+rest, 
+But, like an earthquake, shakes thee on my 
+breast. 
+
+
+‘For where Love reigns, disturbing Jealousy 
+Doth call himself Affection's sentinel; 650 
+Gives false alarms, suggesteth mutiny, 
+And in a peaceful hour doth cry “Kill, kill!” 
+Distempering gentle Love in his desire, 
+As air and water do abate the fire. 
+
+
+‘This sour informer, th’s bate-breeding spy, 
+This canker that eats up Love's tender spring, 
+This carry-tale, dissentious Jealousy, 
+That sometime true news, sometime false doth 
+bring, 
+Knocks at my heart and whispers in mine 
+
+
+ear 659 
+That if I love thee, I thy death should fear: 
+
+
+‘And more than so, presenteth to mine eye 
+The picture of an angry-chafing boar, 
+Under whose sharp fangs on his back doth lie 
+An image | ke thyself, all stain'd with gore; 
+Whose blood upon the fresh flowers being 
+shed 
+Doth make them droop with grief and hang 
+the head. 
+
+
+“What should I do, seeing thee so indeed, 
+
+That tremble at the imagination? 
+
+The oe of it doth make my faint heart 
+leed, 
+
+
+VENUS AND ADONIS 
+De Ui a ea cree eee Eel ty 
+
+
+And fear doth teach it divination: 670 
+I prophesy thy death, my living sorrow, 
+If thou encounter with the boar to-morrow. 
+
+
+“But if thou needs wilt hunt, be ruled by me; 
+
+Uncouple at the t morous flying hare, 
+
+Or at the fox which lives by subtlety, 
+
+Or at the roe which no encounter dare: 
+Pursue these fearful creatures o'er the downs, 
+And on thy well-breath’d horse keep with 
+
+thy hounds, 
+
+
+‘And when thou hast on foot the purblind 
+hare, 679 
+Mark the poor wretch, to overshoot his troubles 
+How he outruns the wind and with what care 
+He cranks and crosses with a thousand doubles: 
+The many musets through the which he goes 
+Are like a labyrinth to amaze his foes, 
+
+
+‘Sometime he runs among a flock of sheep, 
+To make the cunning hounds mistake their _ 
+smell, F 
+And sometime where earth-delving conies keep, — 
+To stop the loud pursuers in their yell, 
+And sometime sorteth with a herd of deer: 
+Danger deviseth shifts; wit waits on fear: 
+
+
+‘For there his smell with others being mingled, — 
+The hot scent-snufing hounds are driven to 
+doubt, 
+Ceasing their clamorous cry tll they have 
+singled 
+
+With much ado the cold fault cleanly out; 
+Then do they spend their mouths: Echo 
+replies, ' 
+
+As if another chase were in the skies. 
+
+
+‘By this, poor Wat, far off upon a hill, _ 
+Stands on his hinder legs with listening ear, 
+To hearken if his foes pursue him still: 
+Anon the.r loud alarums he doth hear; 700 
+And now his grief may be compared well 
+To one sore sick that hears the passing-bell. 
+
+
+“Then shalt thou see the dew-bedabbled wretch 
+Turn, and return, indenting with the way; ; 
+Each envious brier his weary legs doth scratch, 
+Each shadow makes him stop, each murmur 
+stay: 
+For misery is trodden on by many, 
+And being low never relieved by any. 
+
+
+‘Lie quietly, and hear a J'ttle more; 709 
+Nay, do not struggle, for thou shalt not rise: 
+To make thee hate the hunting of the boar, 
+Unlike myself thou hear’st me moralize, 
+Applying this to that, and so to so; 
+or love can comment upon every woe. 
+
+
+VENUS AND ADONIS 
+
+
+1255 
+
+
+“Where did I leave?’ ‘No matter where;’| Which by the rights of time thou needs must 
+
+
+quoth he, 
+‘Leave me, and then the story aptly ends: 
+The night is spent.’ “Why, what of that?’ 
+quoth she. 
+‘I am,’ quoth he, ‘expected of my friends; 
+And now ’tis dark, and going | shall fall.’ 
+‘In night,’ quoth she, ‘desire sees best of all. 
+
+
+‘But if thou fall, O, then imagine this, 721 
+The earth, in love with thee, thy footing trips, 
+And all is but to rob thee of a kiss. 
+Rich preys make true men thieves; so do thy 
+lips 
+Make modest Dian cloudy and forlorn, 
+Lest she should steal a kiss and die for- 
+sworn. 
+
+
+‘Now of this dark night I perceive the reason: 
+Cynthia for shame obscures her silver shine, 
+
+Till forging Nature be condemn’d of treason, 
+For stealing moulds from heaven that were 
+
+
+divine; 730 
+Wherein she framed thee in high heaven’s 
+despite, 
+
+
+To shame the sun by day and her by night. 
+Pee therefore hath she bribed the Destinies 
+
+
+‘o cross the curious workmanship of nature, 
+To mingle beauty with infirmities, 
+And pure perfection with impure defeature, 
+Making it subject to the tyranny 
+Of mad mischances and much misery; 
+
+
+‘As burning fevers, agues pale and faint, 
+Life-poisoning pestilence and frenzies wood, 
+The marrow-eating sickness, whose attaint 
+Disorder breeds by heating of the blood: 
+Surfeits, imposthumes, grief, and damn‘d 
+despair, 
+Bes Nature’s death for framing thee so 
+air. 
+
+
+*And not the least of all these malad‘es 
+
+But in one minute's fight brings beauty under: 
+
+Both favour, savour, hue and qualities, 
+
+Whereat the impartial gazer late did wonder, 
+Are on the sudden wasted, thaw’d and done, 
+As mountain-snow melts with the midday 
+
+
+sun. 750 
+
+
+‘Therefore, despite of fruitless chastity, 
+Love-lacking vestals and self-loving nuns, 
+That on the earth wou'd breed a scarcity 
+And barren dearth of daughters and of sons, 
+Be prodigal: the lamp that burns by night 
+Dries up his oil to lend the world his light. 
+
+
+‘What is thy body but a swallowing grave, 
+Seeming to bury that posterity 
+
+
+have. 759 
+If thou destroy them not in dark obscurity > 
+If so, the world will hold thee in disdain, 
+Sith in thy pr.de so fair a hope is slain. 
+
+
+‘So in thyself thyself art made away; 
+A mischief worse than civil home-bred strife, 
+Or theirs whose desperate hands themselves 
+do slay, 
+Or butcher-sire that reaves his son of life. 
+Foul-cankering rust the hidden treasure frets, 
+But gold that’s put to use more gold begets.’ 
+
+
+‘Nay, then,” quoth Adon, ‘you will fall again 
+Into your idle over-handled theme: 770 
+The kiss I gave you is bestow'd in vain, 
+And all in vain you strive against the stream; 
+For, by this black-faced night, desire’s foul 
+nurse, 
+Your treatise makes me like you worse and 
+worse. 
+
+
+‘If love hath lent you twenty thousand tongues, 
+And every tongue more moving than your own, 
+Bewitching like the wanton mermaid’s songs, 
+Yet from mine ear the tempting tune is blown; 
+For know, my heart stands armed in mine 
+ear, 
+And will not let a false sound enter there; 
+
+
+‘Lest the deceiving harmony should run’ 78] 
+Into the quiet closure of my breast; ( 
+And then my little heart were quite undone, 
+In hi bedchamber to be barr'd of rest. 
+
+
+No, lady, no; my heart longs not to groan, 
+But soundly sleeps, while now it sleeps alone. 
+
+
+“What have you urged that I cannot reprove? 
+The path is smooth that leadeth on to danger: 
+I hate not love, but your device in love, 789 
+That lends embracements unto every stranger. 
+You do it for increase: O strange excuse, 
+When reason is the bawd to lust’s abuse! 
+
+
+‘Call it not love, for Love to heaven is fled, 
+Since sweating Lust on earth usurp'd his 
+name; 
+Under whose simple semblance he hath fed 
+Upon fresh beauty, blotting it with blame; 
+Which the hot tyrant stains and soon 
+bereaves, 
+As caterpillars do the tender leaves. 
+
+
+‘Love comforteth like sunshine after rain, 
+
+But Lust’s effect is tempest after sun; 
+
+Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain, 
+
+Lust’s winter comes ere summer half be done: 
+Love surfeits not. Lust like a glutton dies; 
+Love is all truth, Lust full of forged lies. 
+
+
+1256 
+
+
+‘More I could tell, but more I dare not say; 
+
+The text is old, the orator too green. 
+
+Therefore, in sadness, now I will away; 
+
+My face is full of shame, my heart of teen: 
+Mine ears, that to your wanton talk at- 
+
+
+tended, 
+Do burn themselves for having so offended.’ 
+
+
+With this, he breaketh from the sweet embrace 
+Of those fair arms which bound him to her 
+breast, 
+And homeward through the dark laund runs 
+apace; 
+Leaves Love upon her back deeply distress'd. 
+Lcok, how a bright star shooteth from the 
+
+
+eky, 
+So glides he in the night from Venus’ eye; 
+
+
+Which after him she darts, as one on shore 
+Gazing upon a late-embarked friend, 
+Till the wild waves will have him seen no more, 
+Whose ridges with the meeting clouds con- 
+tend; 
+So did the merciless and pitchy night 821 
+Fold in the object that did feed her sight. 
+
+
+Whereat amazed, as one that unaware 
+Hath dropp’d a precious jewel in the flood, 
+Or stonish’d as night-wanderers often are, 
+
+
+Their light blown out in some mistrustful 
+
+
+wood, 
+Even so confounded in the dark she lay, 
+Having lost the fair discovery of her way. 
+
+
+And now she beats her heart, whereat it groans, 
+That all the neighbour caves, as seeming 
+troubled, 830 
+Make verbal repetition of her moans; 
+Passion on passion deeply is redoubled: 
+"Ay me!" she cries, and twenty times ‘Woe, 
+woe!" 
+And twenty echoes twenty times cry so, 
+
+
+She marking them begins a wailing note 
+And sings. extemporally a woeful ditty; 
+How love makes young men thrall and old 
+men dote; 
+ow love is wise in folly, foolish-witty : 
+Her heavy anthem still concludes in woe, 
+And still the choir of echoes answer so. 
+
+
+Her song was tedious and outwore the night, 
+For lovers’ hours are long, though seeming 
+short: 
+If pleased themselves, others, they think, 
+delicht 
+In such-like circumstance, with such-like sport 
+Their copious stories oftentimes begun 
+End without audience and are never done. 
+
+
+VENUS AND ADONIS 
+
+
+a a Sn ae 
+For who hath she to spend the night withal 
+But idle sounds resembling Parasites, 
+Like  shrill-tongued tapsters answering every 
+call, ; f 
+Soothing the humour of fantastic wits? 850 
+She says *'Tis so:’ they answer all ‘’Tis 
+
+
+so; 
+And would say after her; if she said ‘No.’ 
+
+
+Lo, here the gentle lark, weary of rest, 
+From his moist cabinet mounts up on high, 
+And wakes the morning, from whose silver 
+breast ; 
+The sun ariseth in his majesty ; 
+Who doth the worid so gloriously behold 
+That cedar-tops and hills seem burnish’d 
+gold. 
+
+
+Venus salutes him with this fair good-morrow: 
+‘O thou clear god, and patron of all light, 860 
+From whom each lamp and shining star doth 
+borrow 
+The beauteous influence that makes him bright, 
+There lives a son that suck’d an earthly 
+mother, 4 
+May lend thee light, as thou dost lend to 
+other.’ 
+; ) 
+This said, she hasteth to a myrtle grove, 
+Musing the morning is so much o’erworn, © 
+And yet she hears no tidings of her love: 
+She hearkens for his hounds and for his horn: 
+Anon she hears them chant it lustily, 
+
+
+And all in haste she coasteth to the cry. 870 — 
+
+
+And as she runs, the bushes in the way 
+Some catch her by the neck, some kiss her face, 
+Some twine about her thigh to make her stay: 
+She wildly breaketh from their strictembrace, 
+Like a milch doe, 
+ache, 
+Hasting to feed her fawn hid in some brake. 
+
+
+By this, she hears the hounds are at a bay; 
+Whereat she starts, like one that spies an adder 
+Wreathed up in fatal folds just in his way, 
+The fear whereof doth make him shake and 
+shudder; 
+Even so the timorous yelping of the hounds 
+Appals her senses and her spirit confounds, 
+
+
+For now she knows it is 
+But the blunt boar, 
+Because the cry remaineth in one place, 
+Where fearfully the dogs exclaim aloud: 
+Finding their enemy to be so CUurstiae 
+ia all strain courtesy who shall cope him 
+rst, 
+
+
+no gentle chase, 
+
+
+j 
+
+
+whose swelling dugs do a 
+
+
+rough bear, or lion proud, _ 
+
+
+VENUS AND ADONIS 
+
+
+1257 
+
+
+This dismal cry rings sadly in her ear, 889 
+Through which it enters to surprise her heart; 
+Who, overcome by doubt and bloodless haa. 
+With cold-pale weakness numbs each feeling 
+
++ part: 
+
+Like soldiers, when their captain once doth 
+
+yield, 
+They basely fly and dare not stay the field. 
+
+
+Thus stands she in a trembling ecstasy; 
+Till, cheering up her senses all dismay’d, 
+
+She tells them ‘tis a causeless fantasy, 
+
+And childish error, that they are afraid; 
+
+_ Bids them leave quaking, bids them fear 
+
+
+no more:— 
+And with that word she spied the hunted 
+boar, 900 
+
+
+_ Whose frothy mouth, bepainted all with red, 
+Like milk and blood being mingled both to- 
+~ “ gether, 
+A second fear through all her sinews spread, 
+Which madly hurries her she knows not 
+whither: 
+This way she runs, and now she will no 
+further, 
+But back retires to rate the boar for murther. 
+
+
+A thousand spleens bear her a thousand ways; 
+
+She treads the path that she untreads again; 
+
+Her more than haste is mated with delays, 
+
+Like the proceedings of a drunken brain, 910 
+Full of respects, yet nought at all respecting; 
+‘In hand with all things, nought at all 
+effecting. 
+
+
+Here kennell’d in a brake she finds a hound, 
+And asks the weary caitiff for his master, 
+And there another licking of his wound, 
+"Gainst venom'’d sores the only sovereign 
+plaster; 
+
+And here she meets another sadly scowling, 
+
+_ To whom she speaks, and he replies with 
+howling. 
+
+
+When he hath ceased his ill-resounding noise, 
+Another flap-mouth’d mourner, black and grim, 
+Against the welkin volleys out his voice; 92] 
+Another and another answer him, 
+
+Clapping their proud tails to the ground 
+
+elow, 
+Shaking their scratch’d ears, bleeding as 
+they go. 
+
+
+Look, how the world’s poor people are amazed 
+
+At apparitions, signs and prodigies, 
+
+Whereon with fearful eyes they long have 
+. gazed, 
+
+Infusing them with dreadful prophecies; 
+
+_ So she at these sad signs draws up her breath 
+And sighing it again. exclaims on Death. 
+
+
+“Hard-favour’d tyrant, ugly, meagre, lean, 
+Hateful divorce of love,—thus chides she 
+Death,— 
+‘Grim-grinn ng ghost, earth’s worm, what dost 
+thou mean 
+To stifle beauty and to steal his breath, 
+Who when he lived, his breath and beauty 
+set 
+Gloss on the rose, smell to the violet? 
+
+
+‘If he be dead,—O no, it cannot be, 
+
+Seeing his beauty, thou shouldst strike at it:— 
+
+O yes, it may; thou hast no eyes to see, 
+
+But hatefully at random dost thou hit. 940 
+Thy mark is feeble age, but thy false dart 
+iiakes that aim and cleaves an infant's 
+
+eart. 
+
+
+“Hadst thou but bid beware, then he had spoke, 
+
+And, hearing him, thy power had lost his 
+power. 
+
+The Destinies will curse thee for this stroke; 
+
+They bid thee crop a weed, thou pluck’st a 
+flower: 
+
+Love's golden arrow at him should have fled, 
+
+Aad ope Death’s ebon dart, to strike him 
+ead. 
+
+
+‘Dost thou drink tears, that thou provokest 
+such weeping? 
+What may a heavy groan advantage thee? 
+Why hast thou cast into eternal sleeping 
+Those eyes that taught all other eyes to see? 
+Now Nature cares not for thy mortal vigour, 
+Since her best work is ruin’d with thy rigour.’ 
+
+
+Here overcome, as one full of despair, 
+She vail’d her eyelids, who, like sluices, stopt 
+The crystal tide that from her two cheeks fair 
+In the sweet channel of her bosom dropt; 
+But through the flood-gates breaks the silver 
+rain, 959 
+
+
+And with his strong course opens them again. 
+
+
+O, how her eyes and tears did lend and borrow! 
+
+Her eyes seen in the tears, tears in her eye; 
+
+Both crystals, where they view’d each other's 
+sorrow, 
+
+Sorrow that friendly sighs sought still to dry; 
+But like a stormy day, now wind, now rain, 
+Sighs dry her cheeks, tears make them wet 
+
+again. 
+
+
+Variable passions throng her constant woe, 
+As striving who should best become her grief; 
+All entertain’d, each passion labours so, 
+That every present sorrow seemeth chief, 970 
+But none is best: then join they all together. 
+Like many clouds consulting for foul weatne:. 
+
+
+1258 VENUS AND ADONIS 
+
+
+By this, far off she hears some huntsman hollo; 
+
+A nurse's song ne’er pleased her babe so well: 
+
+The dire imaginat‘on she did follow 
+
+This sound of hope doth labour to expel; 
+For now reviving joy bids her rejoice, 
+And flatters her it is Adonis’ voice, 
+
+
+‘O Jove,’ quoth she, ‘how much a fool was I 
+To be of such a weak and silly mind 
+To wail his death who lives and must not die 
+Till mutual overthrow of mortal kind! 
+For he being dead, with him is beauty slain, 
+And, beauty dead, black chaos comes again, 
+
+
+Whereat her tears began to turn their tide, 
+Being prison'd in her eye like pearls in glass; 
+Yet sometimes falls an orient drop beside, 98] 
+Which her cheek melts, as scorning it should 
+ass, 
+Te wash the foul face of the sluttish ground, 
+Who is but drunken when she seemeth 
+drown’d, 
+
+
+‘Fie, fie, fond love, thou art so full of fear 
+As one with treasure laden, hemm’d with 
+thieves; 
+Trifles, unwitnessed with eye or ear, ; 
+Thy coward heart with false bethinking 
+grieves.” 
+Even at this word she hears a merry horn, 
+Whereat she leaps that was but late forlorn. 
+O hard-believing love, how strange it seems 
+Not to believe, and yet too credulous! 
+Thy weal and woe are both of them extremes; 
+Despair and hope makes thee ridiculous: 
+The one doth flatter thee in thoughts un- 
+likely, 
+In likely thoughts the other kills thee quickly, 
+
+
+As falcon to the lure, away she flies; 
+he grass stoops not, she treads on it so light; 
+And in her haste unfortunately spies 
+The foul boar’s conquest on her fair delight; 
+Which seen, her eyes, as murder’d with the 
+view, 1031 
+Like stars ashamed of day, themselves with- 
+Now she unweaves the web that she hath drew ; 
+wrought; 991 
+Adonis lives, and Death i« not to blame; 
+It was not she that call’d him all to naught: 
+Now she adds honours to his hateful name; 
+She clepes him king of graves and grave 
+for kings, 
+Imperious supreme of all mortal things. 
+
+
+Or, as the snail, whose tender horns being hit, 
+Shrinks backward in his shelly cave with pain, 
+And there, all smother’d up, in shade doth sit, 
+Long after fearing to creep forth again; 
+So, at his bloody view, her eyes are fled 
+
+
+Into the deep dark cabins of her head: 
+
+
+“No, no,’ quoth she, ‘sweet Death, I did but 
+jest; 
+et pardon me I felt a kind of fear 
+When as I met the boar, that bloody beast, 
+Which knows no pity, but is still severe; 
+Then, gentle shadow,—truth I must con- 
+fess,— 
+I rail’d on thee, fearing my love's decease. 
+
+
+Where they resign their office and their light 
+To the disposing of her troubled brain; 1040 
+Who bids them still consort with ugly night, 
+And never wound the heart with looks again; 
+Who, like a king perplexed in h’s throne, 
+By their suggestion gives a deadly groan, 
+
+
+Whereat each tributary subject quakes; 
+As when the wind, imprison’d in the ground, 
+Struggling for Passage, ‘earth's foundation 
+shakes, ; 
+Which with cold terror doth men's minds 
+confound, 
+his mutiny each part doth so surprise 
+That from their dark beds once more leap 
+
+
+"Tis not my fault: the boar provoked my 
+tongue; 
+
+Be wreak’d on him, invisible commander; 
+
+"Tis he, foul creature, that hath done thee 
+wrong; 
+
+I did but act, he's author of thy slander: 
+
+
+Grief hath two tongues, and never woman her eyes; : 1050 
+yet . . “1° : 
+
+Could rule them both without ten women’s | And, being open d, threw unwilling light 
+wit. Upon the wide wound that the boar had 
+
+
+trench'd 
+
+In his soft flank; whose wonted lily white 
+
+With purple tears, that his wound wept, was 
+drench’d: ; 
+
+No flower was nigh, no grass, herb, leaf, or 
+weed, 
+
+But stole his blood and seem'd with him — 
+to bleed. 
+
+
+Thus hoping that Adonis is alive, 
+Her rash suspect she doth extenuate; 1010 
+And that his beauty may the better thrive, 
+With Death she humbly doth insinuate; 
+Tells him of trophies, statues, tombs, and 
+stories 
+_ His victories, his triumphs and his glories. 
+
+
+VENUS AND ADONIS 
+
+
+1259 
+
+
+nn 
+
+
+‘This solemn sympathy poor Venus noteth; 
+Over one shoulder doth she hang her head; 
+Dumbly she passions, franticly she doteth; 
+She thinks he could not die, he is not dead: 
+
+Her voice is stopt, her joints forget to bow; 
+Her eyes are mad that they have wept tll 
+now. : 
+
+
+Upon his hurt she looks so steadfastly, 
+
+That her sight dazzling makes the wound 
+seem three; 
+
+And then she reprehends her mangling eye, 
+
+That makes more gashes where no breach 
+should be: 
+
+His face seems twain, each several limb is 
+doubled; 
+
+For oft the eye mistakes, the brain being 
+
+
+troubled. 
+
+
+‘My tongue cannot express my grief for one, 
+And yet,’ quoth she, ‘behold two Adons dead! 
+My sighs are blown away, my salt tears gone, 
+Mine eyes are turn’d to fire, my heart to lead: 
+Heavy heart's lead, melt at mine eyes’ red 
+fire! 
+So shall I die by drops of hot desire. 
+
+
+‘Alas, poor world, what treasure hast thou lost! 
+What face remains alive that’s worth the 
+viewing ? 
+Whose tongue is music now? what canst thou 
+boast 
+Of things long since, or any thing ensuing? 
+The flowers are sweet, their colours fresh 
+
+
+and trim; 
+But true-sweet beauty lived and died with 
+him. 1080 
+
+
+“Bonnet nor veil henceforth no creature wear! 
+Nor sun nor wind will ever strive to kiss you: 
+Having no fair to lose, you need not fear; 
+The sun doth scorn you and the wind doth 
+hiss you: 
+But when Adonis lived, sun and sharp air 
+ets like two thieves, to rob him of his 
+air: 
+
+
+*And therefore would he put his bonnet on, 
+Under whose brim the gaudy sun would peep; 
+The wind would blow it off and, being gone, 
+Play with his locks: then would Adonis weep; 
+And straight, in pity of his tender years, 
+They both would strive who first should dry 
+
+
+his tears. 
+
+
+To see his face the lion walk’d along 
+
+Behind some hedge, because he would not 
+fear him; 
+
+To recreate himself when he hath sung, 
+
+
+The tiger would be tame and gently hear him; 
+If he had spoke, the wolf would leave his 
+prey 
+And never fright the silly lamb that day. 
+
+
+‘When he beheld his shadow in the brook, 
+The fishes spread on ¢t their golden gills; 1100 
+When he was by, the birds such pleasure took, 
+That some would sing, some other in their bills 
+Would bring him mulberries and ripe-red 
+cherries; 
+He fed them with his sight, they him with 
+berries. 
+
+
+‘But this foul, gr'm, and urchin-snouted boar, 
+Whose downward eye still looketh for a grave, 
+Ne’er saw the beauteous livery that he wore; 
+Witness the entertainment that he gave: 
+If he did see his face, why then I know 
+He thought to kiss him, and hath kill’d him 
+sO. 1110 
+
+
+‘*Tis true, ‘tis true; thus was Adonis slain: 
+
+He ran upon the boar with his sharp spear, 
+
+Who did not whet his teeth at him again, 
+
+But by a kiss thought to persuade him there; 
+And nuzzling in his flank, the loving swine 
+Sheathed unaware the tusk in his soft groin. 
+
+
+‘Had I been tooth’d like him, I must confess, 
+With kissing him I should have kill’d him first; 
+But he is dead, and never did he bless 1119 
+My youth with his; the more am I accurst.’ 
+With this, she falleth in the place she stood, 
+And stains her face with his congealed blood. 
+
+
+She looks upon his lips, and they are pale; 
+She takes him by the hand, and that is cold; 
+She whispers in his ears a heavy tale, 
+
+As if they heard the woeful words she told; 
+She lifts the coffer-lids that close his eyes, 
+Where, lo, two lamps, burnt out, in dark- 
+
+ness lies; 
+
+
+Two glasses, where herself herself beheld 
+A thousand times, and now no more reflect; 
+Their virtue lost, wherein they late excell’d, 
+And every beauty robb'd of his effect: 
+“Wonder of time,’ quoth she, ‘this is my 
+spite, 
+That, thou being dead, the day should yet 
+be light. 
+
+
+‘Since thou art dead, lo, here I prophesy: 
+
+Sorrow on love hereafter shall attend: 
+
+It shall be waited on with jealousy, 
+
+Find sweet beginning. but unsavoury end, 
+Ne’er settled equally, but high or low, 
+That all loye’s pleasure shall not match his 
+
+woe, 1140 
+
+
+1260 
+
+
+VENUS AND ADONIS . ih 
+
+
+‘It shall be fickle, false and full of fraud, 
+Bud and be blasted in a breathing-while; 
+The bottom poison, and the top o'er straw’d 
+With sweets that shall the truest sight beguile: 
+The strongest body shall it make most weak, 
+Strike the wise dumb and teach the fool to 
+speak. 
+
+
+‘It shall be sparing and too full of riot, 
+‘Teaching decrepit age to tread the measures; 
+
+The staring ruffian shall it keep in quiet, 
+Pluck down the rich, enrich the poor with 
+treasures; 1150 
+
+It shall be raging-mad and silly-mild, 
+Make the young old, the old become a child. 
+
+
+‘It shall suspect where is no cause of fear; 
+It shall not fear where it should most mistrust; 
+It shall be merciful and too severe, 
+And most deceiving wheri it seems most just; 
+Perverse it shall be where it shows most 
+toward, 
+Put fear to valour, courage to the coward. 
+
+
+“It shall be cause of war and dire events, 
+And set dissension ‘twixt the son and sire; 
+Subject and servile to all discontents, 
+As dry combustious matter is to fire: 
+Sith in his prime Death doth my love destroy, 
+They that love best their loves shall not 
+enjoy. 
+
+
+By this, the boy that by her side lay kill’d 
+
+Was melted like a vapour from her sight, 
+
+And in his blood that on the ground lay spill’d, 
+
+A purple flower sprung up, chequer’d with 
+white, 
+
+
+Resembling well his pale cheeks and the 
+
+
+blood 
+Which in round drops upon their whiteness 
+stood, ‘1170 
+She bows her head, the new-sprung flower to 
+smell, 
+
+
+Compar-ng it to her Adonis’ breath, 
+And says, within her bosom it shall dwell, 
+Since he himself is reft from her by death: 
+She crops the stalk, and in the breach 
+appears 
+Green dropping sap, which she compares to 
+tears. 
+
+
+‘Poor flower,’ quoth she, ‘this was thy fa- 
+ther’s guise— 
+Sweet issue of a more sweet-smelling sire— 
+For every little grief to wet his eyes: 
+To grow unto himself was his desire, 1180 
+And so ‘ts thine; but know, it is as good 
+To wither in my breast as in his blood. 
+
+
+“Here was thy father’s bed, here in my breast; 
+Thou art the next of blood, and ‘tis thy right: 
+Lo, in this hollow cradle take thy rest, 
+My throbbing heart shall rock thee day and 
+night: 
+There shall not be one minute in an hour 
+Wherein I will not kiss my sweet love's 
+flower.’ 
+
+
+Thus weary of the world, away she hies, 
+And yokes her silver doves; by whose swift aid 
+Their mistress, mounted, through the empty 
+
+skies « 1191 
+In her light chariot quickly is convey’d; 
+
+
+Holding their course to Paphos, where their 
+
+
+queen 
+Means to immure herself and not be seen. 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+; 
+
+3 
+
+1 
+
+3 
+
+; 
+~ 
+; 
+¥ 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+ao.) 
+
+
+v 
+
+
+7” 
+
+
+THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
+
+
+TO THE 
+RIGHT HONOURABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLY, 
+EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON, AND BARON OF TICHFIELD, 
+
+
+THE love I dedicate to your lordship is without end; whereof this pamphlet, without beginning, 
+is but.a superfluous moiety. The warrant I have of your honourable disposition, not the worth 
+of my untutored lines, makes it assured of acceptance. What I have done is yours; what I 
+have to do is yours; being part in all I have, devoted yours. Were my worth greater, my duty 
+would show greater; meantime, as it is, it is bound to your lordship, to whom I wish long life, 
+still lengthened with all happiness, 
+Your’lordship’s in all duty, 
+WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 
+
+
+————— 
+
+
+Lucius Targuinius, for his excessive pride surnamed Superbus, after he had caused his own 
+father-in-law Servius Tullius to be cruelly murdered, and, contrary to the Roman laws and 
+customs, not requiring or staying for the people’s suffrages, had possessed himself of the king- 
+dom, went, accompanied with his sons and other noblemen of Rome, to besiege Ardea. Dur- 
+ing which siege the principal men of the army meeting one evening at the tent of Sextus 
+Tarquinius, the king’s son, in their discourses after supper every one commended the virtues of 
+his own wife; among whom Collatinus extolled the incomparable chastity of his wife Lucretia. 
+In that pleasant humour they all posted to Rome; and intending, by their secret and sudden 
+arrival, to make trial of that which every one had before avouched, only Collatinus finds his 
+wife, though it were late in the night, spinning amongst her maids: the other ladies were all 
+found dancing and revelling, or in several disports. Whereupon the noblemen yielded Colla- 
+tinus the victory, and his wife the fame. At that time Sextus Tarquinius being inflamed with 
+Lucrece’ beauty, yet smothering his passions for the present, departed with the rest back to the 
+camp; from whence he shortly after privily withdrew himself, and was, according to his estate, 
+royally entertained and lodged by Lucrece at Collatium. The same night he treacherously 
+stealeth into her chamber, violently ravished her, and early in the morning speedeth away. 
+Lucrece, in this lamentable plight, hastily dispatched messengers, one to Rome for her father, 
+another to the camp for Collatine. They came, the one accompanied with Junius Brutus, 
+the other with Publius Valerius; and finding Lucrece attired in mourning habit, demanded the 
+cause of her sorrow. She, first taking.an oath of them for her revenge, revealed the actor, and 
+whole manner of his dealing, and withal suddenly stabbed herself. Which done, with one 
+consent they all vowed to root out the whole hated family of the Tarquins; and bearing the 
+dead body to Rome, Brutus acquainted the pecple with the doer and manner of the vile deed, 
+with a bitter invective against the tyranny of the king: wherewith the people were so moved, 
+that with one consent and a general acclamation the Tarquins were all exiled, and the state 
+government changed from kings to consuls. 
+
+
+From the besieged Ardea all in post, Haply that name of ‘chaste’ unhappily set 
+Borne by the trustless wings of false desire, | This bateless edge on his keen appetite; 
+Lust-breathed Tarquin leaves the Roman | When Collatine unwisely did not let 10 
+host; To praise the clear unmatched red and white 
+And to Collatium bears the lightless. fire Which triumph’d in that sky of his delight, 
+Which, in pale embers h‘d, lurks to aspire Where mortal stars, as bright as heaven’s 
+And girdle with embracing flames the waist beauties, 
+
+
+Of Collatine’s fair love, Lucrece the chaste.! With pure aspects did him peculiar duties, 
+‘261 
+
+
+1262 
+
+
+For he the night before, in Tarquin’s tent, 
+Unlock'd the treasure of his happy state; 
+What priceless wealth the heavens had him lent 
+In the possess on of his beauteous mate; 
+Reckoning his fortune at such high-proud rate, 
+That kings might be espoused to more fame, 
+But king nor peer to such a peerless dame. 
+
+
+O happiness enjoy’d but of a few! 
+
+And, if possess’d, as soon decay'd and done 
+
+As is the morning’s silver-melting dew 
+
+Against the golden splendour of the sun! 
+
+An expired date, cancell’d ere well begun: 
+Honour and beauty, in the owner's arms, 
+Are weakly fortress'd from a world of 
+
+harms. 
+
+
+Beauty itself doth of itself persuade 
+The eyes of men without an orator; 
+What needeth then apologies be made, 
+To set forth that which is so singular? 
+Or why is Collatine the pub’isher 
+Of that rich jewel he should keep unknown 
+From thievish ears, because it is his own? 
+
+
+30 
+
+
+Perchance his boast of Lucrece’ sovereignty 
+Suggested this proud issue of a king; 
+For by our ears our hearts oft tainted be: 
+Perchance that envy of so rich a- thng, 
+Braving compare, disdainfully did sting 40 
+His high-pitch’d thoughts, that meaner men 
+should vaunt 
+That golden hap which their superiors want. 
+
+
+But some untimely thought did instigate 
+
+His all-too-timeless speed, if none of those: 
+
+His honour, hs affairs, his friends, his state, 
+
+Neglected all, with swift intent he goes 
+
+To quench the coal which in his liver glows. 
+O rash false heat, wrapp'd in repentant cold, 
+Thy hasty spring still blasts, and ne'er 
+
+grows old! 
+
+
+When at Collatium this false lord arrived, 50 
+Well was he welcomed by the Roman dame, 
+Within whose face beauty and virtue strived 
+pare of them both should underprop her 
+ame: 
+When virtue bragg’d, beauty would blush for 
+shame; 
+When beauty boasted blushes, in despite 
+Virtue would stain that o'er with silver white. 
+
+
+But beauty, in that white intituled, 
+
+From Venus’ doves doth challenge that fair 
+field: 
+
+Then virtue claims from beauty beauty’s red, 
+
+Which virtue gave the golden age to gild 60 
+
+Their silver cheeks, and call’d it then their 
+shield; 
+
+
+THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
+a 
+
+
+Teaching them thus to use it in the fight, 
+When shame assail’d, the red should fence 
+the white. 
+
+
+This heraldry in Lucrece’ face was seen, 
+Argued by beauty's red and virtue’s white: 
+Of either’s colour was the other queen, 
+Proving from world's minority their right: 
+Yet their ambition makes them still to fight; 
+The sovere gnty of either being so great, 
+That oft they interchange each other's seat. 
+
+
+Their silent war of lilies and of roses, 7Ale 
+
+Which Tarquin view'd in her fair face's field, 
+
+In their pure ranks h’s traitor eye encloses; 
+
+tubes aan between them both it should be 
+
+1 ’ 
+
+The coward captive vanquished doth yield 
+To those two armies that would let him go, @ 
+Rather than triumph in so false a foe. “5 
+
+
+Now thinks he that her husband’s shallow 
+tongue,— E 
+
+The niggard prodigal that praised her so,— 
+
+In that high task hath done her beauty wrong, 
+
+Which far exceeds his barren skill to show: 
+
+Therefore that praise which Collatine doth owe 
+Enchanted Tarquin answers with surmise, 
+In silent wonder of still-gazing eyes, 
+
+
+This earthly saint, adored by this devil, 
+Little suspecteth the false worshipper; ; 
+For unstain’d thoughts do seldom dream on 
+evil; d 4 
+Birds never !'med no secret bushes fear: 4 
+So guiltless she securely gives good cheer 89 
+And reverend welcome to her princely guest, 
+Whose inward ill no outward harm ex- _ 
+press'd: ; 
+
+
+For that-he colour’d with his high estate, 
+Hiding base sin in plaits of majesty ; 
+That nothing in him seem'd inordinate, 
+Save sometime too much wonder of his eye, > 
+Which, having all, all could not satisfy; " 
+But, poorly rich, so wanteth in his store, j 
+That, cloy’d with much, he pineth still for 
+more. 
+
+
+But she, that never coped with stranger eyes, 
+Could pick no meaning from their parling 
+looks, 100 
+Nor read the subtle-shin'ng secrecies 
+Writ in the glassy margents of such books: 
+She touch’d no unknown baits, nor fear'd no 
+hooks; 
+Nor could she moralize his wanton sight, 
+More than his eyes were open’d to the light. — 
+
+
+72 
+
+
+¢ 
+
+
+THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
+
+
+He stories to her ears her husband's fame, 
+
+Won in the helds of fruitful Italy; 
+
+And decks with praises Collatine’s high name, 
+
+_ Made glorious by his manly chivalry 
+
+- With bruised arms and wreaths of victory: 
+
+Her joy with heaved-up hand she doth ex- 
+press, 
+
+And, wordless, so greets heaven for his 
+success. 
+
+
+Far from the purpose of his coming hither, 
+
+He makes excuses for his being there: 
+
+No cloudy show of stormy blustering weather 
+
+Doth yet in his fair welkin once appear; 
+
+Till sable Night, mother of Dread and Fear, 
+Upon the world dim darkness doth display, 
+And in her vaulty prison stows the Day. 
+
+
+For then is Tarquin brought unto his bed, 120 
+Intending weariness with heavy spright; 
+For, after supper, long he questioned 
+With modest Lucrece, and wore out the night: 
+Now leaden slumber with life's strength doth 
+fight; 
+And every one to rest themselves betake, 
+Save thieves, and cares, and troubled minds, 
+that wake. 
+
+
+As one of wh'ch doth Tarquin lie revolving 
+The sundry dangers of his will’s obtaining; 
+Yet ever to obtain his will resolving, 
+Though weak-built hopes persuade. him to 
+abstaining: 130 
+Despair to gain doth traffic oft for gaining; 
+And when great treasure is the meed pro- 
+posed, 
+Though death be adjunct, there's no death 
+
+
+supposed, 
+
+
+Those that much covet are with gain so fond, 
+For what they have not, that which they 
+possess 
+They scatter and unloose it from their bond, 
+And so, by hoping more, they have but less; 
+Or, gaining more, the profit of excess 
+Is but to surfeit, and such griefs sustain, 
+That they prove bankrupt in this poor-rich 
+gain. 140 
+
+
+The aim of all is but to nurse the life 
+With honour, wealth, and ease, in waning age; 
+And in this aim there is such thwarting strife, 
+That one for all, or all for one we gage; 
+As life for honour in fell battle’s rage; 
+Honour for wealth; and oft that wealth 
+doth cost 
+The death of all, and all together lost. 
+
+
+So that in venturing i'l we leave to be 
+The things we are for that which we expect; 
+
+
+1263 
+
+
+And this ambitious foul infirmity, 150 
+In having much, torments us with defect 
+Of that we have: so then we do neglect 
+The thing we have; and, all for want of 
+wit, 
+Make someth‘ng nothing by augmenting it. 
+
+
+Such hazard now must doting Tarquin make, 
+
+Pawning his honour to obtain his lust; 
+
+And for himself himself he must forsake: 
+
+Then where is truth, if there be no self-trust? 
+
+When shall he think to find a stranger just, 
+When he himself himself confounds, betrays 
+To slanderous tongues and wretched hateful 
+
+
+days? 161 
+
+
+Now stole upon the time the dead of night, 
+When heavy sleep had closed up mortal eyes: 
+No comfortable star did lend his light, 
+No noise but owls’ and wolves’ death-boding 
+cries; 
+Now serves the season that they may surprise 
+The silly lambs: pure thoughts are dead 
+and still, 
+.While lust and murder wake to stain and 
+
+
+kill. 
+
+
+And now this lustful lord leap’d from his bed, 
+Throwing his mantle rudely o'er his arm; 170 
+Is madly toss'd between desire and dread; 
+Th’ one sweetly flatters, th’ other feareth harm; 
+But honest fear, bewitch’d with lust’s foul 
+charm, 
+Doth too too oft betake him to retire, 
+Beaten away by brain-sick rude desire. 
+
+
+His falchion on a flint he softly smiteth, 
+That from the cold stone sparks of fire do fly; 
+Whereat a waxen torch forthwith he lighteth, 
+Which must be lode-star to his lustful eye; 
+And to the flame thus speaks advisedly, 180 
+‘As from this cold flint I enforced this fire, 
+
+
+So Lucrece must I force to my desire.” 
+
+
+Here pale with fear he doth premeditate 
+The dangers of his loathsome enterprise, 
+And in his inward mind he doth debate 
+What following sorrow may on this arise: 
+Then looking scornfully, he doth despise 
+His naked armour of still-slaughter’d lust, 
+And justly thus controls his thoughts un- 
+Just: 
+
+
+‘Fair torch, burn out thy light, and lend it not 
+To darken her whose light excelleth thine: 
+And die, unhallow'd thoughts, before you blot 
+With your uncleanness that which is divine; 
+Offer pure incense to so pure a shrine: 
+
+
+1264 
+
+
+THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
+
+
+‘Let fair humanity abhor the deed 
+That spots and stains love’s modest snow- 
+white weed. 
+
+
+‘O shame to knighthood and to shining arms! 
+
+O foul dishonour to my household’s grave! 
+
+O impious act, including all foul harms! 
+
+A mart al man to be soft fancy’s slave! 200 
+
+True valour still a true respect should have; 
+Then my digression is so vile, so base, 
+That it will live engraven in my face. 
+
+
+“Yea, though I die, the scandal will survive, 
+
+And be an eye-sore in my golden coat; 
+
+Some loathsome dash the herald will contrive, 
+
+To cipher me how fondly I did dote; 
+
+That my posterity, shamed with the note, 
+Shall curse my bones, and hold it for no sin 
+
+
+To wish that I their father had not been. 
+
+
+“What win I, if I gain the thing I seek? 
+A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy. 
+Who buys a minute’s mirth to wail a week? 
+Or sells eternity to get a toy? 
+For one sweet grape who will the vine destroy ? 
+Or what fond beggar, but to touch the 
+crown, 
+Would with the sceptre straight be strucken 
+down? 
+
+
+‘If Collatinus dream of my intent, 
+
+Will he not wake, and in a desperate rage 
+
+Post hither, this vile purpose to prevent? 220 
+
+This siege that hath engirt his marriage, 
+
+This blur to youth, this sorrow to the sage, 
+This dying virtue, this surviving shame, 
+Whose crime will bear an ever-during 
+
+blame? 
+
+
+‘O, what excuse can my invention make, 
+When thou shalt charge me with so black a 
+deed? 
+Will not my tongue be mute, my frail joints 
+shake, 
+Mine eyes forego their light, my false heart 
+bleed > 
+The guilt being great, the fear doth still 
+exceed ; 
+And extreme fear can neither fight nor fly, 
+But coward-like w'th trembling terror die. 
+
+
+‘Had Collatinus kill’d my son or sire, 
+Or lain in ambush to betray my life, 
+Or were he not my dear friend, this desire 
+Might have excuse to work upon his wife, 
+$s in revenge or quittal of such strife: 
+But as he is my kinsman, my dear friend, 
+The shame and fault finds no excuse nor 
+end, 
+
+
+‘Shameful it is; ay, if the fact be known: 
+Hateful it is; there is no hate in loving: 240 
+I'll beg her love; but she is not her own: 
+The worst is but denial and reproving: 
+
+
+My will is strong, past reason’s weak removing. 
+bf g 
+
+
+Who fears a sentence or an old man’s saw 
+Shall by a painted cloth be kept in awe.’ 
+
+
+Thus, graceless, holds he disputation 
+
+"Tween frozen conscience and hot-burning will, 
+
+And with good thoughts makes dispensation, 
+
+Urging the worser sense for vantage still; 
+
+Which in a moment doth confound and kill 
+All pure effects, and doth so far proceed, 
+That what is vile shows like a virtuous deed. 
+
+
+Quoth he, ‘She took me kindly by the hand, 
+
+And gazed for tidings in my eager eyes, 
+
+Fearing some hard news from the warlike band, 
+
+Where her beloved Collatinus lies. 
+
+O, how her fear did make her colour rise! 
+First red as roses that on lawn we lay, 
+Then white as lawn, the roses took away. 
+
+
+‘And how her hand, in my hand being lock’d, 
+Forced it to tremble with her loyal fear! 261 
+Which struck her sad, and then it faster rock'd, 
+Until her husband’s welfare she did hear; 
+Whereat she sm led with so sweet a cheer, 
+That had Narcissus seen her as she stood, 
+Self-love had never drown’d him in the flood, 
+
+
+“Why hunt I then for colour or excuses? 
+All orators are*dumb when beauty pleadeth; 
+Poor wretches have remorse in poor abuses; 
+Love thrives not in the heart that shadows — 
+dreadeth: 270 | 
+Affection is my captain, and he leadeth; 
+And when his gaudy banner is display’d, 
+The coward fights and will not be dismay’d, 
+
+
+‘Then, childish fear, avaunt! debating, die! 
+Respect and reason, wait on wrinkled age! 
+My heart shall never countermand mine eye: 
+Sad pause and deep regard beseem the sage; 
+My part is youth, and beats these from the 
+stage: 
+Desire my pilot is, beauty my prize; a 
+yes who fears sinking where such treasure 
+ies?” 
+
+
+As corn o’ergrown by weeds, so heedful fear 
+
+Is almost choked by unresisted lust, 
+
+Away he steals with open listening ear, 
+
+Full of foul hope and full of fond mistrust; 
+
+Both which, as servitors to the unjust, oa 
+So cross him with their opposite persuasion, — 
+That now he vows a league, and now in- 
+
+vasion. a 
+
+
+THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
+
+
+1265 
+
+
+Within his thought her heavenly image sits, 
+And in the self-same seat sits Collatine: 
+
+That eye which looks on her confounds his 
+_ wits; 2 
+That eye which him beholds, as more divine, 
+
+Unto a view so false will not incline; 
+But with a pure appeal seeks to the heart, 
+Which once corrupted takes the worser part; 
+
+
+And therein heartens up his servile powers, 
+Who, flatter’d by their leader’s jocund show, 
+Stuff up his lust; as minutes fill up hours; 
+And as their captain, so their pride doth grow. 
+Paying more slavsh tribute than they owe. 
+By reprobate desire thus madly led, 300 
+The Roman lord marcheth to Lucrece’ bed. 
+
+
+The locks between her chamber and his will, 
+
+Each one by him enforced retires his ward; 
+
+~ But, as they open, they all rate his ill, 
+
+_ Which drives the creeping thief to some regard: 
+The threshold grates the door to have him 
+heard; 
+
+Night-wandering weasels shriek to see him 
+
+there; 
+
+They fright him, yet he still pursues his fear. 
+
+
+As each unwilling portal yields him way, 309 
+Through little vents and crannies of the place 
+The wind wars with his torch to make him stay, 
+And blows the smoke of it into his face, 
+Extinguishing his conduct in this case; 
+
+But his hot heart, which fond desire doth 
+
+scorch, 
+Puffs forth another wind that fires the torch: 
+
+
+And being lighted, by the light he spies 
+Lucretia’s glove, wherein her needle sticks: 
+He takes it from the rushes where it lies, 
+And griping it, the needle his finger pricks; 
+As who should say “This glove to wanton 
+
+
+tricks 320 
+Is not inured; return again in haste; 
+Thou see’st our mistress’ ornaments are 
+chaste.” 
+
+
+But all these poor forbiddings could not stay 
+him; 
+He in the worst sense construes their denial: 
+The doors, the wind, the glove, that did delay 
+him, 
+He takes for accidental things of trial; 
+Or as those bars which stop the hourly dial, 
+Who with a lingering stay his course doth let, 
+Till every minute pays the hour his debt. 
+
+
+‘So, so,’ quoth he, ‘these lets attend the time, 
+
+
+To add a more rejoicing to the prime, 
+And give the sneaped birds more cause to sing. 
+Pain pays the income of each precious thing; 
+Huge rocks, high winds, strong pirates, 
+shelves and sands, 
+
+
+The merchant fears, ere rich at home he 
+lands.’ 
+
+
+Now is he come unto the chamber door, 
+
+That shuts him from the heaven of his thought, 
+
+Which with a yielding latch, and with no more, 
+
+Hath barr’d him from the blessed thing 
+
+sought. 
+
+So from himself impiety hath wrought, 
+That for his prey to pray he doth begin, 
+As if the heavens should countenance his sin. 
+
+
+he 
+340 
+
+
+But in the midst of his unfruitful prayer, 
+Having solicited th’ eternal power 
+Healt foul thoughts might compass his fair 
+air, 
+And they would stand auspicious to the hour, 
+Even there he starts: quoth he, “I must de- 
+flower: 
+The powers to whom I pray abhor this fact, 
+How can they then assist me in the act? 
+
+
+‘Then Love and Fortune be my gods, my 
+‘guide! 
+
+My will is back’d with resolution: 
+
+Thoughts are but dreams till their effects be 
+tried; 
+
+The blackest sin is clear’d with absolution; 
+Against love's fire fear’s frost hath dissolution. 
+The eye of heaven is out, and misty night 
+
+Covers the shame that follows sweet delight.’ 
+
+
+This said, his guilty hand pluck’d up the latch, 
+And with his knee the door he opens wide. 
+The dove sleeps fast that this night-owl will 
+catch: 360 
+Thus treason works ere traitors be espied. 
+Who sees the lurking serpent steps aside; 
+But she, sound sleeping, fearing no such 
+thing, 
+Lies at the mercy of his mortal sting. 
+
+
+Into the chamber wickedly he stalks, 
+And gazeth on her yet unstained bed. 
+The curtains being close, about he walks, 
+Rolling his greedy eyeballs in his head: 
+By their high treason is his heart misled; 
+Which gives the watch-word to his hand 
+full soon 370 
+To draw the cloud that hides the silver moon. 
+
+
+Look, as the fair and fiery-pointed sun, 
+
+
+Like little frosts that sometime threat the | Rushing from forth a cloud, bereaves our 
+
+
+331 
+
+
+spring, 
+
+
+sight; 
+
+
+1266 
+
+
+THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
+
+
+eee 5 
+
+
+Even so, the curtain drawn, his eyes begun 
+To wink, being blinded with a greater light: 
+Whether it is that she reflects so bright, 
+That dazzleth them, or else some shame 
+supposed ; 
+But blind they are, and keep themselves 
+enclosed. 
+
+
+O, had they in that darksome prison died! 
+
+Then had they seen the period of their ill; 
+
+Then Collatine agan, by Lucrece’ side, 
+
+In his clear bed might have reposed still: 
+
+But they must ope, this blessed league to kill; 
+And holy-thoughted Lucrece to their sight 
+Must sell her joy, her life, her world’s 
+
+delight. 
+
+
+Her lily hand her rosy cheek lies under, 
+
+Cozening the pillow of a lawful kiss; 
+
+Who, therefore angry, seems to part in sunder, 
+
+Swelling on either side to want his bl'ss; 
+
+Between whose hi'ls her head entombed is: 
+Where, like a virtuous monument, she lies, 
+To be admired of lewd unhallow’d eyes. 
+
+
+Without the bed her other fair hand was, 
+On the green coverlet; whose perfect white 
+Show’d like an April daisy on the grass, 
+With pearly sweat, resembling dew of night. 
+Her eyes, like marigolds, had sheathed their 
+light, 
+And canopied in darkness sweetly lay, 
+Till they might open to adorn the day. 
+
+
+Her hair, like go!den threads, play’d with her 
+breath; 400 
+O modest wantons! wanton modesty! 
+Showing life’s triumph in the map of death, 
+And death's dim look in life’s mortality: 
+Each in her sleep themselves so beautify, 
+As if between them twain there were no 
+
+
+strife, 
+But that life lived in death, and death in life. 
+
+
+Her breasts, like ivory globes circled with blue, 
+A pair of maiden worlds unconquered, 
+Save of their lord no bearing yoke they knew, 
+And him by oath they truly honoured. 410 
+These worlds in Tarquin new ambition bred; 
+Who, like a foul usurper, went about 
+From this fair throne to heave the owner out. 
+
+
+What could he see but mightily he noted? 
+What did he note but strongly he desired? 
+What he beheld, on that he firmly doted, 
+And in his will h’s wi'ful eye he tired. 
+With more than admiration he admired 
+
+Her azure veins, her alabaster skin, 
+
+Her coral lips, her snow-white dimpled chin. 
+
+
+As the grim lion fawneth o'er his prey, 421 
+Sharp hunger by the conquest satisfied, 
+So o’er this sleeping soul doth Tarquin stay, 
+Hs rage of lust by gazing qualified; 
+elec not suppress’d; for standing by her 
+side, 
+His eye, which late this mutiny restrains, 
+Unto a greater uproar tempts his veins: 
+
+
+And they, like straggling slaves for pillage 
+
+fighting, 
+
+Obdurate vassals fell exploits effecting, 
+
+In bloody death and ravishment delighting, 
+
+Nor children’s tears nor mothers’ groans re- 
+
+specting, 
+
+Swell in their pride, the onset still expecting: 
+Anon his beating heart, alarum striking, 
+Gives the hot charge and bids them do their 
+
+Inge 
+
+
+His drumming heart cheers up his burning 
+eye, 
+His eye commends the leading to his hand; 
+His hand, as proud of such a dign'ty, ; 
+Smoking with pride, march’d on to make his 
+stan 
+On her bare breast, the heart of all her land; 
+Whose ranks of blue veins, as his hand did 
+scale, 440 
+Left their round turrets destitute and pale. 
+
+
+They, mustering to the quiet cabinet 
+Where their dear governess and lady lies, 
+Do tell her she is dreadfully beset, 
+And fright her with confusion of their cries: 
+She, much amazed, breaks ope her lock’d-up — 
+eyes, 
+Who, peeping forth this tumult to behold, 
+Are Pity flaming torch dimm'd and con- 
+troll’d. 
+
+
+Imagine her as one in dead of night 
+From forth dull sleep by dreadful fancy. 
+waking, 
+That thinks 
+sprite, 
+Whose grim aspect sets every joint a-shaking: 
+What terror ‘tis! but she, in worser taking, 
+From sleep disturbed, heedfully doth view 
+The sight which makes supposed terror true. 
+
+
+she hath beheld some ghastly 
+451 
+
+
+Wrapp'd and confounded in a thousand fears, 
+Like to a new-kill’d bird she trembling lies; 
+She dares not look; yet, winking, there appears 
+Quick-shifting antics, ugly in her eyes: 
+Such shadows are the weak brain's forgeries; 
+Who. angry that the eyes fly from their 
+lights, 461 
+In darkness daunts them with more dread- 
+ful sights. 
+
+
+THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
+
+
+1267 
+
+
+His hand, that yet remains upon her breast,— 
+Rude ram, to batter such an ivory wall!— 
+May feel her heart—poor citizen!—distress'd, 
+Wounding itse!f to death, rise up and fall, 
+Beating her bulk, that his hand shakes withal. 
+This moves n him more rage and lesser pity, 
+To make the breach and enter this sweet 
+
+
+city. 
+
+
+First, like a trumpet, doth his tongue begin 
+
+To sound a parley to his heartless foe; 
+
+Who o'er the white sheet peers her whiter 
+
+chin, 
+
+The reason of this rash alarm to know, 
+
+Which he by dumb demeanour seeks to show; 
+But she with vehement prayers urgeth still 
+Under what colour he commits this ill. 
+
+
+Thus he repl’es: ‘The colour in thy face, 
+That even for anger makes the lily pale, 
+And the red rose blush at her own disgrace, 
+Shall plead for me and tell my loving tale: 
+Under that colour am I come to scale 
+Thy never-conquer'd fort: the fault is thine, 
+For those thine eyes betray thee unto mine. 
+
+
+*Thus I forestall thee, if thou mean to chide: 
+Thy beauty hath ensnared thee to this night, 
+Where thou with patience must my will abide; 
+My will that marks thee for my earth’s de- 
+light, 
+Which I to conquer sought with all my might; 
+But as reproof and reason beat it dead, 
+
+
+By thy bright beauty was it newly bred. 490 
+
+
+‘[ see what crosses my attempt will bring; 
+
+| know what thorns the growing rose defends; 
+
+I think the honey guarded with a sting; 
+
+All th's beforehand counsel comprehends: 
+
+But will is deaf and hears no heedful friends; 
+Only he hath an eye to gaze on beauty, 
+And dotes on what he looks, ‘gainst law or 
+
+
+duty. 
+
+
+“I have debated, even in my soul, 
+What «rong, what shame, what sorrow | shall 
+breed; 
+But nothing can affection’s course control, 500 
+Or stop the headlong fury of his speed. 
+{ know repentant tears ensue the deed, 
+Reproach, disdain, and deadly enmity; 
+Yet strike I to embrace mine infamy.’ 
+
+
+This said, he shakes aloft his Roman blade, 
+
+Which, like a falcon towering ‘n the skies, 
+
+Coucheth the fowl below with his wings’ shade, 
+
+Whose crooked beak threats if he mount he 
+dies: 
+
+So under his insulting falchion lies 
+
+
+Harmless Lucretia, marking what he tells 
+With trembling fear, as fowl hear falcon’s 
+
+
+bells. 511 
+
+
+‘Lucrece,’ quoth he, ‘this night I must enjoy 
+thee: 
+If thou deny, then force must work my way, 
+For in thy bed I purpose to destroy thee: 
+That done, some worthless slave of thine I ‘Il 
+slay, 
+To kill thine honour with thy life’s decay; 
+And in thy dead arms do I mean to place 
+him, 
+Swearing I slew him, seeing thee embrace 
+him. 
+
+
+‘So thy surviving husband shall remain 
+The scornful mark of every open eye; 520 
+Thy kinsmen hang their heads at this disdain, 
+Thy issue blurr’d with nameless bastardy: 
+And thou, the author of their obloquy, 
+Shalt have thy trespass cited up in rhymes, 
+And sung by children in succeeding times. 
+
+
+‘But if thou yield, I rest thy secret friend: 
+The fault unknown is as a thought unacted; 
+A little harm done to a great good end 
+For lawful policy remains enacted. 
+The poisonous simple sometimes is 
+pacted 
+In a pure compound; being so applied, 531 
+His venom in effect is purified. 
+
+
+‘Then, for thy husband and thy children’s 
+sake, 
+Tender my su:t: bequeath not to their lot 
+The shame that from them no device can take, 
+The blemish that will never be forgot; 
+Wore than a slavish wipe or birth-hour’s 
+ot: 
+For marks descried in men’s nativity 
+Are nature's faults, not their own infamy.’ 
+
+
+com: 
+
+
+Here with a cockatrice’s dead-killing eye 540 
+He rouseth up himself and makes a pause; 
+While she, the picture of pure piety, 
+Like a white hind under the gripe’s sharp 
+claws, 
+Pleads, in a wilderness where are no laws, 
+To the rough beast that knows no gentle 
+right, 
+Nor aught obeys but his foul appetite. 
+
+
+But when a black-faced cloud the world doth 
+threat, 
+
+In his dim mist the aspiring mountains hiding, 
+
+From earth’s dark womb some gentle gust 
+doth get, 
+
+Which blows these pitchy vapours from their 
+biding, 550 
+
+
+1268 
+
+
+Hindering their present fall by this dividing; 
+So his unhallow’d haste her words delays, 
+And moody Pluto winks while Orpheus 
+
+plays. 
+
+
+Yet, foul night-working cat, he doth but dally, 
+While in his hold-fast foot the weak mouse 
+panteth: 
+Her sad behaviour feeds his vulture folly, 
+A swallowing gulf that even in plenty wanteth: 
+His ear her prayers admits, but his heart 
+granteth 
+No penetrable entrance to her plaining: 
+Tears harden lust, though marble wear with 
+raining. é 560 
+
+
+Her pity-pleading eyes are sadly fixed 
+
+In the remorseless wrinkles of his face; 
+
+Her modest eloquence with sighs is mixed, 
+
+Which to her oratory adds more grace. 
+
+She puts the period often from his place; 
+And midst the sentence so her accent breaks, 
+That twice she doth begin ere once she 
+
+speaks. 
+
+
+She conjures him by high almighty Jove, 
+By knighthood, gentry, and sweet friendship’s 
+oath, 
+By her untimely tears, her husband’s love, 570 
+By holy human law, and common troth, 
+By heaven and earth, and all the power of 
+both, 
+That to his borrow’d bed he make retire, 
+And stoop to honour, not to foul desire. 
+
+
+Quoth she, ‘Reward not hospitality 
+With such black Payment as thou hast pre- 
+tended; 
+
+Mud not the fountain that gave drink to thee; 
+
+Mar not the thing that cannot be amended; 
+
+End thy ill aim before the shoot be ended; 
+He is no woodman that doth bend his bow 
+To strike a poor unseasonable doe. 581 
+
+
+* ‘My husband is thy friend; for his sake spare 
+
+
+me: 
+Thyself art mighty; for thine own sake leave 
+me: 
+Myself a weakling; do not then ensnare me: 
+Thou look’st not like deceit; do not deceive 
+me. 
+My sighs, like whirlwinds, labour hence to 
+eave thee: 
+ever man were moved with woman's 
+moans, 
+Be moved with my tears, my sighs, my 
+groans: 
+
+
+‘All which together, like a troubled ocean, 
+Beat at thy rocky and wreck-threatening heart, 
+
+
+‘THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
+
+
+To soften it with their continual motion; 591 
+
+For stones dissolved to water do convert, 
+
+O, if no harder than a stone thou art, | 
+Melt at my tears, and be compassionate! | 
+Soft pity enters at an iron gate, - 
+
+
+‘In Tarquin’s likeness I did entertain thee: 
+Hast thou put on his shape to do him shame? | 
+To all the host of heaven I complain me, ; 
+Thou wrong’st his honour, wound’st his | 
+princely name. gba , 
+ou art not what thou seem’st; and if the 
+
+
+same, 606 
+Thou seem’st not what thou art, a god, a 
+king; 
+For kings like gods should govern every — 
+thing. 
+
+
+‘How will thy shame be seeded in thine age, 
+When thus thy vices bud before thy spring! 
+If in thy hope thou darest do such outrage, 
+What darest thou not when once thou art a 
+king? 
+O, be remember’d, no outrageous thing 
+From vassal actors can be wiped away; 
+Then kings’ misdeeds cannot be hid in clay. 
+
+
+‘This deed will make thee only loved for 
+fear; 610 
+But happy monarchs still are fear'd for love: 
+With foul offenders thou perforce must bear, 
+When they in thee the like offences prove: 
+If but for fear of this, thy will remove; 
+For princes are the glass, the school, the — 
+book, 
+Where pibiesss, eyes do learn, do read, do 
+look. 
+
+
+‘And wilt thou be the school where Lust shall 
+learn? c ‘ 
+Must he in thee read lectures of such shame? 
+
+Wilt thou be glass wherein it shall discern 
+Authority for sin, warrant for blame, 620 
+To privilege dishonour in thy name? ‘ 
+Thou back’st reproach against long-living 
+
+laud, 
+And makest fair reputation but a bawd. 
+
+
+‘Hast thou command? by him that gave it 
+thee, 
+From a pure heart command thy rebel will: 
+Draw not thy sword to guard iniquity, 
+For it was lent thee all that brood to kill, 
+Thy princely office how canst thou fulfill, 
+When, pattern’d by ‘thy fault, foul sin may 
+
+
+say, 
+He learn’d to sin, and thau didst teach the 
+wav? 630° 
+
+
+THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
+
+
+1269 
+
+
+‘Think but how vile a spectacle it were, 
+To view thy present trespass in another. 
+Men’s faults do seldom to themselves appear; 
+
+
+Their own transgressions partially they 
+smother: 
+
+_. This guilt would seem death-worthy in thy 
+brother. 
+
+
+‘O, how are they wrapp’d in with infamies 
+That from their own misdeeds askance 
+their eyes! 
+
+
+*To thee, to thee, my heaved-up hands appeal, 
+Not to seducing lust, thy rash relier: 
+I sue for exiled majesty’s repeal; 640 
+Let him return, and flattering thoughts retire: 
+His true respect will prison false desire, 
+And wipe the dim mist from thy doting 
+eyne, 
+That fae shalt see thy state and pity mine.” 
+
+
+‘Have done,’ quoth he: ‘my uncontrolled tide 
+
+Turns not, but swells the higher by this let. 
+
+Small lights are soon blown out, huge fires 
+abide, 
+
+And with the wind in greater fury fret: 
+
+The petty streams that pay a daily debt 
+
+To their salt sovereign, with their fresh 
+
+falls’ haste 650 
+
+Add to his flow, but alter not his taste.” 
+
+
+“Thou art,’ quoth she, ‘a sea, a sovereign 
+king; 
+And, ag idiete falls into thy boundless flood 
+Black lust, dishonour, shame, misgoverning, 
+Who seek to stain the ocean of thy blood. 
+If all these petty ills shall change thy good, 
+Thy sea within a puddle’s womb is hearsed, 
+
+
+And not the puddle in thy sea dispersed. 
+
+
+“So shall these slaves be king, and thou their 
+slave; 
+Thou nobly base, they basely dignified; 660 
+Thou their fair life, and they thy fouler 
+grave: 
+Then. loathed in their shame, they in thy 
+pride: 
+The lesser thing should not the greater hide; 
+The cedar stoops not to the base shrub’s 
+foot, 
+But low shrubs wither at the cedar’s root. 
+
+
+‘So let thy thoughts, 
+state'— 
+
+“No more,’ quoth he; “by heaven, I will not 
+hear thee: 
+
+Yield to my love; if not, enforced hate, 
+
+a of love’s coy touch, shall rudely tear 
+thee; 
+
+
+low vassals to thy 
+
+
+That done, despitefully I mean to bear thee 
+Unto the base bed of some rascal groom, 
+To be thy partner in this shameful doom.’ 
+
+
+This said, he sets his foot upon the light, 
+For light and lust are deadly enemies: 
+Shame folded up in blind concealing night, 
+When most unseen, then most doth tyrannize. 
+The wolf hath seized his prey, the poor lamb 
+cries; 
+Till with her own white fleece her voice 
+controll’d 
+Entombs her outcry in her lips’ sweet fold: 
+
+
+For with the nightly linen that she wears 680 
+
+He pens her piteous clamours in her head; 
+
+Cooling his hot face in the chastest tears 
+
+That ever modest eyes with sorrow shed. 
+
+O, that prone lust should stain so pure a bed! 
+The spots whereof could weeping purify, 
+Her tears should drop on them perpetually. 
+
+
+Brt she hath lost a dearer thing than life, 
+Ax he hath won what he would lose again: 
+This forced league doth force a further strife; 
+This momentary joy breeds months of pain; 
+This hot desire converts to cold disdain: 691 
+Pure Chastity is nfled of her store, 
+And Lust, the thief, far poorer than before. 
+
+
+Look, as the full-fed hound or gorged hawk, 
+Unapt for tender smell or speedy flight, 
+Make slow pursuit, or altogether balk 
+
+The prey wherein by nature they delight; 
+
+So surfeit-taking Tarquin fares this night: 
+His taste delicious, in digestion souring, 
+Devours his will, that lived by foul devour- 
+
+ing. 
+
+O, deeper sin than bottomless conceit 701 
+
+Can comprehend in still imagination! 
+
+Drunken Desire must vomit his receipt, 
+
+Ere he can see his own abomination. 
+
+While Lust is in his pride, no exclamation 
+Can curb his heat or rein his rash desire, 
+
+
+Till like a jade Self-will himself doth tire. 
+And then with lank and lean discolour’d 
+
+
+cheek, 
+With heavy eye, knit brow, and strengthless 
+pace, 
+Feebly Desire, all recreant, poor, and meek, 
+Like to a bankrupt beggar wails his case: 
+The flesh being proud, Desire doth fight with 
+Grace, 
+For there it revels; and when that decays, 
+The guilty rebel for remission prays. 
+
+
+So fares it with this faultful lord of Rome, 
+Who this accomplishment so hotly chased; 
+
+
+1270 
+
+
+For now against himself he sounds this doom, 
+That through the length of times ‘he stands 
+disgraced: 
+Besides, his soul’s fair temple is defaced; 719 
+To whese weak ruins muster troops of cares, 
+To ask the spotted princess how she fares. 
+
+
+She says, her subjects with foul insurrection 
+Have batter’d down her consecrated wall, 
+And by their mortal fault brought in sub- 
+jection 
+Her immortality, and made her thrall 
+To living death and pain perpetual: 
+Which in her prescience she controlled still, 
+But her foresight could not forestall their 
+will. 
+
+
+Even in this thought through the dark night he 
+stealeth, 
+
+A captive victor that hath lost in gain; 730 
+
+Bearing away the wound that nothing healeth, 
+
+The scar that will, despite of cure, remain; 
+
+Leaving his spoil perplex’d in greater pain. 
+She bears the load of lust he left behind, 
+And he the burden of a guilty mind. 
+
+
+He like a thievish dog creeps sadly thence; 
+
+She like a wearied lamb lies pant ng there; 
+
+He scowls and hates himself for his offence; 
+
+She, desperate, with her nails her flesh doth 
+tear; 
+
+He faintly flies, sweating with guilty fear; 
+She stays, exclaiming on the direful night; 
+He runs, and chides his vanish’d, loathed 
+
+delight. 
+
+
+He thence departs a heavy convertite; 
+She there remains a hopeless castaway; 
+He in his speed looks for the morning light; 
+She prays she never may behold the day, 
+‘For day,’ quoth she, ‘night’s scapes doth open 
+lay, 
+And my true eyes have never practised how 
+To cloak offences with a cunning brow. 
+
+
+“They think not but that every eye can see 750 
+The same disgrace which they themselves be- 
+hold; 
+
+And therefore would they still in darkness be, 
+
+To have their unseen sin remain untold; 
+
+For they their guilt with weeping will unfold, 
+And grave, like water that doth eat in steel, 
+Upon my cheeks what helpless shame I feel.’ 
+
+
+Here she exclaims against repose and rest, 
+And bids hex eyes hereafter still be blind. 
+She wakes her heart by beating on her breast, 
+
+
+And bids it leap from thence, where it may 
+find 
+
+
+THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
+
+
+Some purer chest to close so pure a mind. 761 
+Frantic with grief thus breathes she forth 
+her spite 
+Against the unseen secrecy of night: 
+
+
+‘O comfort-killing Night, image of hell! 
+Dim register and notary of shame! 
+Black stage for tragedies and murders fell! 
+Vast sin-concealing chaos! nurse of blame! 
+Blind muffled bawd! dark harbour for de- 
+fame! 
+Grim cave of death! whispering conspirator 
+With close-tongued treason and the rav- 
+isher! 
+
+
+i 
+
+
+‘O hateful, vaporous, and foggy Night! 771 
+Since thou art guilty of my cureless crime, 
+Muster thy mists to meet the eastern light, 
+Make war against proportion’d course of time; 
+Or if thou wilt permit the sun to climb 
+His wonted height, yet ere he go to bed, 
+Knit poisonous clouds about his golden 
+
+
+head. 
+
+
+“With rotten damps ravish the morning air; 
+Let their exhaled unwholesome breaths make 
+sick 
+The life of purity, the supreme fair, 780 
+Ere he arrive his weary noon-tide prick; 
+And let thy misty vapours march so thick, 
+That in their smoky ranks his smother'd 
+light 
+May set at noon and make perpetual night. 
+
+
+“Were Tarquin Night, as he is but Night's 
+child, m4 
+
+
+The silver-shining queen he would distain; 
+
+
+Her twinkling handmaids too, by him defiled, 
+
+
+Through Night's black bosom should not 
+peep again: 
+So should I have co-partners in my pain; 
+And fellowship in woe doth woe assuage, 
+As palmers’ chat makes short their pilgrim- 
+
+
+age. : 
+
+
+“Where now | have no one to blush with me, 
+To cross their arms and hang their heads with 
+mine, 
+To mask their brows and hide their infamy; 
+But I alone alone must sit and pine, 
+Seasoning the earth with showers of silver 
+brine, 
+Mingling my talk with tears, my grief with 
+groans, 
+. Poor wasting monuments of lasting moans. 
+
+
+‘O Night, thou furnace of foul-reeking smoke, 
+Let not the jealous Day behold that face 800 
+Which underneath thy black all-hid’ng cloak 
+Immodesty lies martyr'’d with disgrace! 
+
+
+eg 
+as 
+
+
+Keep still possession of thy gloomy place, 
+
+_ That all the faults which in thy reign are 
+made 
+
+May likewise be sepulchred in thy shade! 
+
+
+‘Make me not object to the tell-tale Day! 
+
+The light will show, character’d in my brow, 
+
+The story of sweet chastity’s decay, 
+
+_ The impious breach of holy wedlock vow: 
+
+_ Yea, the illiterate, that know not how 810 
+To cipher what is writ in learned books, 
+
+~ Will quote my loathsome trespass in my 
+
+: looks. 
+
+
+a “The nurse, to still her child, will tell my 
+a story, 
+
+_ And fright her crying babe with Tarquin’s 
+by, name; 
+
+_ The orator, to deck his oratory, 
+
+Will couple my reproach to Tarquin’s shame; 
+. . Feast-finding minstrels, tuning my defame, 
+
+_ WAll tie the hearers to attend each line, 
+How Tarquin wronged me, I Collatine. 
+
+
+Let my good name, that senseless reputation, 
+_ For Collatine’s dear love be kept unspotted: 
+_ If that be made a theme for disputation, 
+The branches of another root are rotted 
+
+_ And undeserved reproach to him allotted 
+That is as clear from this attaint of mine 
+As I, ere this, was pure to Collatine. 
+
+- *O unseen shame! invisible disgrace! 
+
+O unfelt sore crest-wounding, private scar! 
+ Repreach is stamp’d :n Collatinus’ face, 
+And Tarquin’s éye may read the mot afar, 830 
+How he in peace is wounded, not in war. 
+
+_ Alas, how manv bear such shameful blows, 
+Which not emselves, but he that gives 
+: them knows! 
+
+
+‘If, Collatine, thine honour lay in me, 
+From me by strong assault it is bereft. 
+My honey lost, and I, a drone-like bee, 
+Have no perfection of my summer left, 
+But robb’d and ransack'd by injurious theft: 
+
+
+In thy weak hive a wandering wasp hath 
+
+
+| crept, 
+__ And suck’d the honey which thy chaste bee 
+i kept. 840 
+
+
+wis 
+
+“Yet am I guilty of thy honour’s wrack; 
+Yet for thy honour d:d I entertain him; 
+Coming from thee, I could not put him back, 
+_ For it had been dishonour to disdain him: 
+Besides, of weariness he did complain him, 
+And talk'd of virtue: O unlook'd-for evil, 
+
+
+_ When virtue is profaned in such a devil! 
+
+
+THE ‘RAPE OF LUCRECE 
+ts 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+1271 
+
+
+‘Why should the worm intrude the maiden 
+bud? 
+Or hateful cuckoos hatch in sparrows’ nests? 
+Or toads infect fair founts with venom mud? 
+Or tyrant folly lurk in gentle breasts? 85] 
+Or kings be breakers of their own behests? 
+But no perfection is so absolute, 
+That some impurity doth not pollute. 
+
+
+‘The aged man that coffers-up his gold 
+Is oa with cramps and gouts and painful 
+ts; 
+
+And scarce hath eyes his treasure to behold, 
+
+But like still-pining Tantalus he sits, 
+
+And useless barns the harvest of his wits; 
+Having no other pleasure of his gain 860 
+But torment that it cannot cure his pain. 
+
+
+‘So then he hath it when he cannot use it, 
+
+
+And leaves it to be master’d by his young; 
+
+Who in their pride do presently abuse it: 
+
+Their father was too weak, and they too 
+strong, 
+
+
+To hold their cursed-blessed fortune long. 
+The sweets we wish for turn to loathed 
+sours 
+Even in the moment that we call them ours. 
+
+
+‘Unruly blasts wait on the tender spring; 
+Unwholesome weeds take root with precious 
+flowers; 870 
+The adder hisses where the sweet birds sing; 
+What virtue breeds iniquity devours: 
+We have no good that we can say is ours, 
+But ill-annexed Opportunity 
+Or kills his life or else his quality. 
+
+
+‘O Opportunity, thy guilt is great! 
+‘Tis thou that executest the traitor’s treason: 
+Thou set’st the wolf where he the lamb may 
+
+
+get; 
+Whoever plots the sin, thou ‘point’st the 
+
+
+season; 
+
+"Tis thou that spurn’st at right, at law, at 
+
+reason ; 880 
+
+And in thy shady cell, where none may spy 
+him, 
+
+Sits Sin, to seize the souls that wander by 
+him. 
+
+
+“Thou makest the vestal violate her oath; 
+Thou blow’st the fire when temperance 
+thaw'd; 
+
+Thou smother’st honesty, thou murder’st troth; 
+
+Thou foul abettor! thou notorious bawd! 
+
+Thou plantest scandal and displacest laud: 
+Thou ravisher, thou traitor, thou false thief, 
+Thy honey turns to gall, thy joy te grief! 
+
+
+is 
+
+
+1272 
+
+
+Thy private feasting to a public fast, 
+Thy smoothing titles to a ragged name, 
+Thy sugar'd tongue to bitter wormwood taste: 
+Thy violent vanities can never last. 
+How comes it then, vile Opportunity, 
+Being so bad, such numbers seek for thee? 
+
+
+“When wilt thou be the humble suppliant’s 
+friend, 
+And bring him where his suit may be ob- 
+tain’d? 
+When wilt thou sort an hour great strifes to 
+end? 
+Or free that soul which wretchedness hath 
+chain'd? 
+Give physic to the sick, ease to the pain'd? 
+The poor, lame, blind, halt, creep, cry out 
+for thee; 
+But they ne'er meet with Opportunity. 
+
+
+‘The patient dies while the physician sleeps; 
+The orphan pines wh le the oppressor feeds; 
+Justice is feasting while the widow weeps; 
+Advice is sporting while infection breeds: 
+Thou grant’st no time for charitable deeds: 
+Wrath, envy, treason, rape, and murder's 
+
+
+rages, 
+Thy heinous hours wait on them as their 
+pages. 910 
+
+
+‘When Truth and Virtue have to do with 
+thee, 
+
+A thousand crosses keep them from thy aid: 
+They buy thy help; but Sin ne'er gives a fee, 
+e gratis comes; and thou art well appaid 
+
+As well to hear as grant what he hath said. 
+My Collatine would else have come to me 
+When Tarquin did, but he was stay’d by 
+
+thee. 
+
+
+‘Guilty thou art of murder and of theft, 
+Guilty of perjury and subornation, 
+Guilty of treason, forgery, and shift, 
+Guilty of incest, that abomination; 
+An accessory by thine inclination 
+To all sins past, and all that are to come, 
+From the creation to the general doom. 
+
+
+920 
+
+
+‘Mis-shapen Time, copesmate of ugly Night, 
+
+Swift subtle post, carrier of grisly care, 
+
+Eater of youth, false slave to false delight, 
+
+Base watch of woes, sin’s pack-horse, virtue's 
+
+snare; 
+
+Thos nursest ali and murder’st all that are: 
+O, hear me then, injurious, shifting Time! 
+Be guilty of my death, since of my crime. 
+
+
+“Why hath thy servant, Opportunity, 
+
+
+Betray'd the hours thou gavest me to repose, 
+
+
+THE RAPE OF LUCRECE ; 
+—- jj TF ee q 
+‘Thy secret pleasure turns to open shame, 890 | Cancell’d my fortunes, and enchained me 
+
+
+To endless date of never-ending woes? 
+
+Time’s office is to fine the hate of foes; 
+To eat up errors by opinion bred, 
+Not spend the dowry of a lawful bed. 
+
+
+‘Time's glory is to calm contending kings, 
+To unmask falsehood and bring truth to light 
+To stamp the seal of time in aged things, 941 
+
+To wake the morn and sentinel the night, 
+
+To wrong the wronger till he render right, 
+To ruinate proud bu'ldings with thy hours, 
+And smear with dust their glittering golden 
+towers; ; 
+
+
+‘To fill with worm-holes stately monuments, 
+
+To feed oblivion with decay of things, 
+
+To blot old books and alter their contents, 
+
+To pluck the quills from ancient ravens’ 
+
+wings, 
+
+To dry the old oak’s sap and cherish springs, 
+To spoil antiquit’es of hammer'd steel, 95] 
+And turn the giddy round of Fortune's 
+
+wheel; 
+
+
+‘To show the beldam daughters of her 
+daughter, 
+To make the child a man, the man a child, 
+To slay the tiger that doth live by slaughter, 
+To tame the unicorn and lion wild, 
+To mock the subtle in themselves beguiled, 
+To cheer the ploughman with increaseful 
+crops, ; 
+And waste huge stones with little water- 
+drops* 
+
+
+“Why work’st thou mischief in thy pilgrim-_ 
+age, 
+Unless thou couldst return to make amends? 
+One poor retiring minute in an age 
+Would purchase thee a thousand thousand 
+friends, : 
+Lending him wit that to bad debtors lends:.. _ 
+O, this dread night, wouldst thou one hour 
+come back, 
+I could prevent this storm and shun thy 
+wrack! 
+
+
+‘Thou ceaseless lackey to eternity, 
+Ww ee pas mischance cross Tarquin in his 
+ght: 
+Devise extremes beyond extremity, 
+To make him curse this cursed crimeful 
+night: 
+Let ghastly shadows his lewd eyes affright; 
+And the dire thought of his committed evil 
+Shape every bush a hideous shapeless devil. 
+
+
+‘Disturb ..is ‘ours of rest with restless trances, 
+
+
+Afflict him ‘n his bed with bedrid groans; 
+
+
+THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
+
+
+1273 
+
+
+Let there bechance him pitiful mischances, 
+To make him moan; but pity not his moans: 
+Stone him with harden’d hearts, harder than 
+stones; 
+And let mild women to him lose their mild- 
+ness, 
+Wilder to him than tigers in their wildness, 
+
+
+“Let him have time to tear his curled hair, 981 
+Let him have time against himself to rave, 
+Let him have time of Time’s help to despair, 
+Let him have time to live a loathed slave, 
+Let him have time a beggar’s orts to crave, 
+And time to see one that by alms doth live 
+Disdain to him disdained scraps to give. 
+
+
+“Let him have time to see his friends his foes, 
+And merry fools to mock at him resort; 
+Let him have time to mark how slow time 
+goes 
+In time of sorrow, and how swift and short 
+His time of folly and his time of sport; 
+And ever let his unrecalling crime 
+Have time to wail th’ abusing of his time. 
+
+
+‘O Time, thou tutor both to good and bad, 
+
+Ro me to curse him that thou taught'’st this 
+ill! 
+
+At his own shadow let the thief run mad, 
+
+Himself himself seek every hour to kill! 
+
+Such wretched hands such wretched blood 
+should spill; 999 
+
+_ For who so base would such an office have 
+
+As slanderous deathsman to so base a 
+
+slave? 
+
+
+“The baser is he, com‘ng from a king, 
+
+To shame his hope with deeds degenerate: 
+
+The mightier man, the mightier is the thing 
+
+That makes him honour’d, or begets him hate; 
+
+For greatest scandal waits on greatest state. 
+The moon being clouded presently is miss’d, 
+But Jitle stars may hide them when they 
+
+ist. 
+
+
+“The crow may bathe his coal-black wings in 
+mire, 
+And unperceived fly with the filth away; 1010 
+_ But if the like the sncw-white swan desire, 
+The stain upon his silver down will stay. 
+Poor grooms are sightless night, kings glor- 
+ious day: 
+Gnats are unnoted wheresoe’er they fly, 
+But eagles gazed upon with every eye. 
+
+
+“Out, idle words, servants to shallow fools! 
+
+Unprofitable sounds, weak arbitrators! 
+
+Busy yourselves in skill-contending schools; 
+
+Debate where leisure serves with dull de- 
+baters; 
+
+
+To trembling clients be you mediators: 1026 
+For me, I force not argument a straw, 
+Since that my case is past the help of law 
+
+
+‘In vain I rail at Opportunity, 
+At Time, at Tarquin, and uncheerful Night; 
+In vain I cavil with mine infamy, 
+In vain I spurn at my confirm’d despite: 
+This helpless smoke of words doth me nw 
+right. 
+The remedy indeed to do me good 
+Is to let forth my foul-defiled blood. 
+
+
+‘Poor hand, why quiver’st thou at this decree? 
+
+Honour thyself to rid me of this shame; 1031 
+
+For if I die, my honour lives in thee; 
+
+But if I live, thou livest in my defame: 
+
+Since thou couldst not defend thy loyal dame, 
+And wast afeard to scratch her wicked foe, 
+
+
+Kill both thyself and her for yielding so.’ 
+
+
+This said, from her be-tumbled couch she 
+starteth, 
+To find some desperate instrument of death: 
+But this no slaughterhouse no tool imparteth 
+To make more vent for passage of her breath; 
+Which, thronging through her lips, so vanish- 
+eth 
+As smoke from /Etna, that in air consumes, 
+Or that which from discharged cannon 
+fumes. 
+
+
+‘In vain,’ quoth she, ‘I five, and seek in vain 
+Some happy mean to end a hapless life. 
+I fear'd by Tarquin’s falchion to be slain, 
+Yet for the self-same purpose seek a knife: 
+But when I fear’d I was a loyal wife: 
+
+So am I now: O no, that cannot be; 1049 
+
+
+Of that true type hath Tarquin rifled me. 
+
+
+‘O, that is gone for which I sought to live, 
+And therefore now I need not fear to die. 
+To clear this spot by death, at least I give 
+A badge of fame to slander’s livery; 
+A dying life to living infamy: 
+Poor helpless help, the treasure stol’n away, 
+To burn the guiltless casket where it lay! 
+
+
+“Well, well, dear Collatine, thou shalt not 
+know 
+The stained taste of violated troth; 
+
+
+I will not wrong thy true affection so, 1066 
+To flatter thee with an infringed oath; 
+This bastard graff shall never come to 
+growth: 
+He ri not boast who did thy stock pol- 
+ute 
+
+
+That thou art doting father of his fruit. 
+
+
+1274 
+
+
+THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
+
+
+‘Nor shall he smile at thee in secret thought, 
+Nor laugh with his companions at thy state; 
+But thou shalt know thy interest was not 
+bought 
+Basely with gold, but stol’n from forth thy 
+gate. 
+For me, I am the mistress of my fate, 1069 
+And with my trespass never will dispense, 
+Till life to death acquit my forced offence. 
+
+
+‘I will not poison thee with my attaint, 
+Nor fold my fault in cleanly-coin’d excuses; 
+My sable ground of sin I will not paint, 
+To hide the truth of this false night’s abuses: 
+My tongue shall utter all; mine eyes, like 
+sluices, 
+As from a mountain-spring that feeds a 
+dale, 
+Shall gush pure streams to purge my im- 
+pure tale,’ 
+
+
+By this, lamenting Philomel had ended 1079 
+The well-tuned warble of her nightly sorrow, 
+And solemn night with slow sad gait de- 
+scended 
+To ugly hell; when, lo, the blushing morrow 
+Lends light to all fair eyes that light will 
+borrow: 
+But cloudy Lucrece shames herself to see, 
+And therefore still in night would cloister’d 
+be. 
+
+
+Revealing day through every cranny spies, 
+And seems to point her out where she sits 
+z weeping; 
+To whom she sobbing speaks: “O eye of eyes, 
+Why pry’st thou through my window? leave 
+thy peeping: 
+Mock with thy tickling beams eyes that are 
+
+
+sleeping: 1090 
+
+Brand not my forehead with thy piercing 
+light, 
+
+For day hath nought to do what’s done by 
+night.” 
+
+
+Thus cavils she with every thing she sees: 
+
+True grief is fond and testy as a child, 
+
+Who wayward once, his mood with nought 
+
+agrees: 
+
+Old woes, not infant sorrows, bear them mild; 
+
+Cont'nuance tames the one: the other wild, 
+Like an unpractised swimmer plunging still, 
+With too much labour drowns for want of 
+
+
+skill. 
+
+
+So she, deep-drenched in a sea of care, 1100 
+Holds disputation with each thing she views, 
+And to herself all sorrow doth compare; 
+
+No object but her passion’s strength renews; 
+
+
+And as one shifts, another straight ensues: 
+Sometime her grief is dumb and hath no — 
+words; 
+Sometime ‘tis mad and too much talk af- 
+fords, 
+
+
+The little birds that tune their morning's joy 
+Me Saee moans mad with their sweet mel- 
+ody: 
+For mirth doth search the bottom of annoy; 
+Sad souls are slain in merry company; 1110 
+Grief best is pleased with grief's society: 
+True sorrow then is feelingly sufficed 
+
+
+When with like semblance it is sympa- — 
+thized, 
+
+
+‘Tis double death to drown in ken of shore; 
+He ten times pines that pines beholding food; 
+To see the salve doth make the wound ache — 
+
+
+more; a 
+Great grief grieves most at that would do it — 
+good; 
+
+
+Deep woes roll forward like a gentle flood, 
+Who, being stopp’d, the bounding banks 
+
+o'erflows; 
+
+Grief dallied with nor law nor limit knows. — 
+
+
+“You mocking birds,’ quoth she, ‘your tunes 
+entomb 1121 
+Within your hollow-swelling feather’d breasts, 
+
+And in my hearing be you mute and dumb: 
+
+My restless discord loves no stops nor rests; 
+
+A woeful hostess brooks not merry guests: 
+
+Relish your‘nimble notes to pleasing ears; 
+Distress likes dumps when time is kept with — 
+tears, 
+
+
+“Come, Philomel, that sing’st of ravishment, 
+Make thy sad grove in my dishevell’d hair: 
+As the dank earth weeps at thy languishment, 
+So I at each sad strain will strain a tear, 1131 
+And with deep groans the diapason bear; ~* 
+
+For burden-wise I'll hum on Tarquin still, — 
+
+While thou on Tereus descant’st better skill. — 
+
+
+‘And whiles against a thorn thou bear’st thy 
+part, 
+
+To keep thy sharp woes waking, wretched I, 
+
+To imitate thee well, against my heart 
+
+W ll fix a sharp knife to affright mine eye; 
+
+Who, if it wink, shall thereon fall and die. 
+These means, as frets upon an instrument, 
+Shall tune our heart-strings to true languish- 
+
+
+ment. 1141 
+
+
+‘And for, poor bird, thou ‘sing’st not in the | 
+day, : 
+
+
+| As shaming any eye should thee behold, 
+
+
+THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
+
+
+; Some dark deep desert, peated Trstmshe way, 
+
+
+That knows not parching heat nor freez‘ng 
+cold, 
+Will we find out; and there we will unfok 
+To creatures siern sad tunes, to chang 
+their kinds: 
+Since men prove beasts, let beasts bear 
+gentle minds.’ 
+
+
+As the poor fr'ghted deer, that stands at gaze, 
+Wildly determining which way to fly, 1150 
+Or one encompass’d with a winding maze, 
+That cannot tread the way out readily; 
+So with herself is she in mutiny, 
+To live or die which of the twain were 
+better, 
+When life is shamed, and death reproach’s 
+debtor. 
+
+
+“To kill myself,’ quoth she, ‘alack, what were 
+it, 
+But with my body my poor soul’s pollution? 
+They that lose half with greater patience 
+bear it 
+Than they whose whole is swallow’d in 
+confusion. 
+That mother tries a merciless conclusion 1160 
+Who, having two sweet babes, when death 
+takes one, 
+Will slay the other and be nurse to none. 
+
+
+_ ‘My body or my soul, which was the dearer, 
+
+
+When the one pure, the other made divine? 
+
+Whose love of either to myself was nearer, 
+
+When both were kept for heaven and Colla- 
+tine? 
+
+Ay me! the bark peel’d from the lofty pine, 
+His leaves will wither and his sap decay; 
+So must my soul, her bark being peel’d 
+
+away. 
+
+
+“Her house is sack’d, her quiet interrupted, 
+Her mansion batter’'d by the enemy; 1171 
+Her sacred temple spotted, spoil’d, corrupted, 
+Grossly engirt with daring infamy: : 
+Then let it not be call’d impiety, 
+If in this blemish’d fort I make some hole 
+Throuch which I may convey this troubled 
+soul, 
+
+
+“Yet die I wl not till my Collatine 
+Have heard the cause of my untimely death; 
+That he may vow, in that sad hour of mine, 
+Revenge on him that made me stop my breath. 
+My stained blood to Tarquin I "ll bequeath, 
+Which by him tainted shall for him be 
+spent, 
+And as, his due writ in my testament. 
+
+
+1275 
+
+
+‘My honour I'll bequeath unto the knife 
+That wounds my body so dishonoured. 
+"Tis honour to deprive dishonour'd life; 
+The one will live, the other being dead: 
+So of shame’s ashes shall my fame be bred; 
+For in my death I murder shameful scorn: 
+My shame so dead, mine honour is new- 
+born, 
+‘Dear lord of that dear jewel I have lost, 1191 
+What legacy shall I bequeath to thee? 
+My resolution, love, shall be thy boast, 
+By whose example thou revenged mayst be. 
+How Tarquin must be used, read it in me: 
+Myself, thy friend, will kill myself, thy 
+foe, 
+And for my sake serve thou false Tarquin 
+so. 
+
+
+‘This brief abridgement of my will I make: 
+
+My soul and body to the skies and ground; 
+
+My resolution, husband, do thou take; 1200 
+
+Mine honour be the knife’s that makes my 
+wound ; 
+
+My shame be his that did my fame confound; 
+And all my fame that lives disbursed be 
+To those that live, and think no shame of 
+
+me. 
+
+
+“Thou, Collatine, shalt oversee this will; 
+
+How was I overseen that thou shalt see it! 
+
+My blood shall wash the slander of mine ill; 
+
+My life’s foul deed, my life's fair end shall 
+free it. 
+
+Faint not, faint heart, but stoutly say “So be 
+its” 
+
+Yield to my hand; my hand shall conquer 
+
+
+thee: 1210 
+Then sdead: both die, and both shall victors 
+e. 
+
+
+This plot of death when sadly she had laid, 
+And wiped the brinish pearl from her bright 
+eyes, 
+With untuned tongue she hoarsely calls her 
+ynaid, 
+Whose swift obedience to her mistress hies; 
+For fleet-wing’d duty with thought’s feathers 
+fl'es. 
+Poor Lucrece’ cheeks unto her maid seem so 
+As winter meads when sun doth melt their 
+snow. 
+
+
+Her mistress she doth give demure good- 
+morrow, 
+
+With soft-slow tongue, true mark of modesty, 
+
+And sorts a sad look to her lady" $ sorrow, 
+
+For why her face wore sorrow’s livery; 
+
+
+: 
+
+
+1276 
+
+
+But durst not ask of her audaciously 
+Why her two suns were cloud-eclipsed so, 
+Nor why her fair cheeks over-wash'd with 
+woe. 
+
+
+But as the earth doth weep, the sun being set, 
+Each flower moisten’d like a melting eye; 
+Even so the maid with swelling drops gan wet 
+Her circled eyne, enforced by sympathy 
+Of those far suns set in her mistress’ sky, 
+Who in a salt-waved ocean quench their 
+light, 
+Which makes the maid weep like the dewy 
+night. 
+
+
+A pretty while these pretty creatures stand, 
+Like ivory conduits coral cisterns filling: 
+One justly weeps; the other takes in hand 
+No cause, but company, of her drops spilling: 
+Their gentle sex to weep are often willing; 
+Grieving themselves to guess at others’ 
+smarts, 
+And then they drown their eyes or break 
+their hearts. - 1239 
+
+
+For men have marble, women waxen, minds, 
+
+And therefore are they form’d as marble will; 
+
+The weak oppress'd, the impression of strange 
+
+kinds 
+
+is form’d in them by force, by fraud, or skill: 
+
+Then cali tiem not the authors of their ill, 
+No more than wax shal! be accounted evil 
+Wherein is stampd the semblance of a 
+
+devil. 
+
+
+Their smoothness. like a goodly campaign 
+plain, 
+Lays open all the little worms that creep; 
+In men, as in a rough-grown grove, remain 
+Cave-keeping evils that obscurely sleep: 1250 
+Through crystal walls each little mote will 
+peep: 
+Though men can cover crimes with bold 
+stern looks, 
+Poor women's faces are their own faults’ 
+
+
+books. 
+
+
+No man inveigh against the wither'd flower, 
+But chide rough winter that the flower hath 
+kll'd: 
+Not. that devour'’d, but that which doth devour, 
+Is worthy blame. O, let it not be hild 
+Poor women’s faults, that they are so fulfill’d 
+With men’s abuses: those proud lords, to 
+blame, 
+Make weak-made women tenants to their 
+
+
+shame. 1260 
+
+
+THE RAPE OF LUCRECE = 
+
+
+The precedent whereof in Lucrece view, 
+Assail’d by night with circumstances strong 
+Of present death, and shame that might ensue 
+By that her death, to do her husband wrong: 
+Such danger to resistance did belong, 
+
+The dying fear through all her body 
+
+spread; 
+And who cannot abuse a body dead? 
+
+
+By this, mild patience bid fair Lucrece speak 
+To the poor counterfe't of her complaining: 
+‘My girl,’ quoth she, ‘on what occasion break — 
+Those tears from thee, that down thy cheeks 
+are raining? 127] 
+If thou dost weep for grief of my sustaining, 
+Know gentle wench, it small avails my 
+mood: 
+If tears could help, mine own would do me 
+good. 
+
+
+‘But tell me, girl, when went'-—and there she 
+stay'd 
+Till after a deep groan—‘Tarquin from 
+hence?” 
+‘Madam, ere I was up,’ replied the maid, 
+‘The more to blame my sluggard negligence: — 
+Yet with the fault I thus far can dispense; 
+Myself was stirring exe the break of day, 
+And, ere I rose, was Tarquin gone away. 
+
+
+‘But, lady, if your maid may be so bold. 
+She would request to know your heaviness.” 
+‘O; ites quoth Lucrece: ‘if it should be 
+told, 
+The repetition cannot make it less; 
+For more it is than I can well express: 
+And that deep torture may be call’d a hell 
+avhen mote is felt than one hath power to 
+tell. 
+
+
+~ 
+
+
+‘Go, get me hither paper, ink, and pen: 
+| Yet save that labour, for I have them here, 
+What should I say? One of my husband's 
+men 
+Bid thou be ready, by and by, to bear 
+A letter to my lord, my love, my dear: 
+Bid him with speed prepare to carry it; 
+The cause craves haste, and it will soon be 
+writ.” 
+
+
+Her maid is gone, and she prepares to write, 
+
+First hovering o'er the paper with her quill: 
+
+Conceit and grief an eager combat fight; 
+
+What wit sets down is blotted straight with 
+will; 
+
+This is too curious-good, this blunt and ill: 
+Much like a press of people at a door, 130] 
+Rae her inventions, which shall go be- 
+
+ore 
+
+
+THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
+
+
+At last she thus begins: “Thou worthy lord 
+
+Of that unworthy wife that greeteth thee, 
+
+Health to thy person! next vouchsafe t’ af- 
+
+ford— 
+
+If ever, love, thy Lucrece thou wilt see— 
+
+Some present speed to come and visit me. 
+So, I commend me from our house in grief: 
+_ My woes are tedious, though my words are 
+
+
+brief.’ 
+
+
+Here folds she up the tenour of her woe, 
+Her certain sorrow writ uncertainly. 
+By this short schedule Collatine may know 
+Her grief, but not her grief’s true quality: 
+She dares not thereof make discovery, 
+Lest he should hold it her own gross abuse, 
+Ere she with blood had sta.n'd her stain’d 
+
+
+excuse, 
+
+
+Besides, the life and feeling of her passion 
+She eae to spend when he is by to hear 
+er: 
+When sighs and groans and tears may grace 
+the fashion 
+Of her disgrace, the better so to clear her 
+From that suspicion which the world might 
+bear her. 
+To shun this blot, she would not blot the 
+letter 
+With words, till action might become them 
+better. 
+
+
+To ai tar sights moves more than hear them 
+told: 
+For then the eye interprets to the ear 
+The heavy motion that it doth behold, 
+When every part a part of woe doth bear. 
+"Tis but a part of sorrow that we hear: 
+Deep sounds make lesser noise than shal- 
+
+
+low fords, 
+And sorrow ebbs, being blown with wind 
+of words. 1330 
+
+
+» Her letter now is seal’d, and on it writ 
+*At Ardea to my lord with more than haste.” 
+The post attends, and she delivers it, 
+Charging the sour-faced groom to hie as fast 
+As lagging fowls before the northern blast: 
+Speed more than speed but dull and slow 
+she deems: 
+Extremity still urgeth such extremes. 
+
+
+The homely villain court’sies to her low; 
+
+And, blushing on her, w th a steadfast eye 
+
+Receives the scrol! without or yea or no, 1340 
+
+Ange forth with bashful innocence doth hie. 
+
+But they whose guilt within their bosoms lie 
+Imagine every eye beholds their blame; 
+For Lucrece thought he blush’d to see her 
+
+shame: 
+
+
+1277 
+
+
+When, silly groom! God wot, it was defect 
+
+Of spirit, life, and bold audacity. 
+
+Such harmless creatures have a true respect 
+
+To talk in deeds, while others saucily 
+
+Promise more speed, but do it leisurely: 
+Even so this pattern of the worn-out age 
+Pawn'd honest looks, but laid no words to 
+
+gage. 
+
+
+His kindled duty kindled her mistrust, 
+That two red fires in both their faces blazed; 
+She thought he blush'd, as knowing Tarquin’s 
+lust, 
+And, blushing with him, wistly on him gazed; 
+Her earnest eye did maké hm more amazed: 
+The more she saw the blood his cheeks re- 
+plenish, 
+The more she thought he spied in her some 
+blemish. 
+
+
+But long she thinks till he return again, 
+And yet the duteous vassal scarce is gone. 
+The weary time she cannot entertain, 
+For now ‘ts stale to sigh, to weep, to groan: 
+So woe hath wearied woe, moan tired moan, 
+That she her plaints a little while doth 
+stay, 
+Pausing for means to mourn some newer 
+way. 
+
+
+At last she calls to m'nd where hangs a piece 
+
+Of skilful painting, made for Priam’s Troy; 
+
+Before the which is drawn the power of 
+
+Greece, : 
+
+For Helen's rape the city to destroy, 1369 
+
+Threatening cloud-kissing Ilion with annoy; 
+Which the conceited painter drew so proud, 
+As heaven, it seem’d, to kiss the turrets 
+
+
+bow’'d. 
+
+
+A thousand lamentable objects there, 
+In scorn of nature, art gave lifeless life: 
+Many a drv drop seem'’d a weeping tear, 
+Shed for the slaughter’d husband by the wife: 
+The red blood reek’d, to show the painter's 
+strife; 
+The dying eyes gleam’d forth their ashy 
+lights, 
+Like dying coals burnt out in tedious nights. 
+
+
+There might you see the labouring pioner 
+
+Begrimec with sweat, and smeared all with 
+dust; 
+
+And from the towers of Troy there would 
+appear 
+
+The very eyes of men through loop-holes 
+thrust, 
+
+
+1278 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
+
+
+Gazing upon the Greeks with little lust: |For much imaginary work was there; 
+Such sweet observance in this work was |Conceit deceitful, so compact, so kind, 
+had, That for Achilles’ image stood his spear, 
+That one might see those far-off eyes look |Griped in an armed hand; himself, behind, 
+sad. | Was left unseen, save to the eye of mind: 
+A hand, a foot, a face, a leg, a head, 
+Stood for the whole to be imagined. 
+
+
+iy 
+
+
+| 
+
+
+In great commanders grace and majesty 
+You might behold, triumphing in their faces; 
+
+
+In youth, quick bearing and dexterity; 0 | And from the walls of strong-besieged Troy — 
+
+
+And here and there the painter interlaces 1390 | : f 
+Paleacoiice imcchian cota etenblne | When their brave hope, bold Hector, march'd 
+
+
+to field, 1430- 
+
+
+Which b tl idiayt Inguog) otle Stood many Trojan mothers, sharing joy 
+aaa Got ccna |To see their youthful sons bright weapons 
+
+
+wield; 
+And to their hope they such odd action yield, 
+That through ther light joy seemed to 
+
+
+That one would swear he saw them quake 
+and tremble, 
+
+
+In Ajax and Ulysses, O, what art poPDGAL te nr 
+Cr ohsiognometmisht one bebolat Se things stain’d, a kind of heavy 
+
+
+The face of either c pher'd either’s heart; 
+Their face their manners most expressly told: 
+In Ajax’ eyes blunt rage and rigour roll’d; 
+But the mild glance that sly Ulysses lent 
+Show'd deep regard and smiling govern- 
+ment. 
+
+
+| And from the strand of Dardan, where they 
+fought, 
+'To Simois’ reedy banks the red blood ran, 
+Whose waves to imitate the battle sought 
+/ With swelling ridges; and their ranks began 
+There pleading might you see grave Nestor | lo break upon the galled shore, and than 
+stand, 140] | _Retire again, till, meeting greater ranks, 
+As "twere encouraging the Greeks to fight; | They join and shoot their foam at Simois’ 
+Making such sober action with his hand, banks. 
+That it beguiled attention, charm’d the sight: 
+In speech, it seem'’d, his beard, all slver 
+
+
+| To this well-painted piece is Lucrece come, 
+
+
+white, |'To find a face where all distress is stell’d, 
+Wagg'd up and down, and from his lips | Many she sees where cares have carved some, 
+did fly |But none where all distress and dolour 
+Thin winding breath, which purl’d up to dwell’d, 
+the sky. | Till she despairing Hecuba beheld, 
+
+
+Lee gk MA eis Non aacc ia a Staring on Priam’s wounds with her old 
+
+
+; ’ * ROKED _ : 
+Which seem’d to swallow up his sound ad-| Which bleeding under Pyrrhus’ proud foot 
+vice; | lies. 
+
+All jointly listening, but with several graces, | “¥ 
+As if some merma‘d did their ears entice, | In her the painter had anatomized 1450 
+Some high, some low, the painter was so nice; Tinsel hata dl beawevtd feet Pee mersny sy 
+The scalps of many, almost hid behind, réigh' 7, } ah ; 
+To a nd up higher seem’d, to mock the Her cheeks with chops and wrinkles were dis- 
+guised; 
+
+
+'Of what she was no semblance did remain: 
+
+
+Here one man’s hand lean'd on another's Her blue blood changed to black in every 
+
+
+head, 
+
+
+; : ’ : ‘ | vein, 
+His a being shadow'd by his neighbour's Wanting the spring that those shrunk pipe: 
+; had fed, : 
+
+
+Here one being throng’d bears back, all boll’n 
+and red; 
+
+Another smother'd seems to pelt and swear; 
+And in their rage such signs of rage they bear, 
+As, but for loss of Nestor’s golden words, 
+It seem’d they would debate with angry 
+
+swords, 
+
+
+Show'd life imprison’d in a body dead. 
+
+
+On this sad shadow Lucrece spends her eyes, 
+And shapes her sorrow to the beldam’s woes, 
+Who nothing wants to answer her but cries, 
+
+
+And bitter words to ban her cruel foes: 1460 
+
+
+THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
+
+
+1279 
+
+
+Cee 
+
+
+The painter was no god to lend her those; 
+And therefore Lucrece swears he did her 
+wrong, 
+To give her so much grief and not a tongue. 
+
+
+‘Poor instrument,’ quoth she, ‘without a sound, | 
+
+
+I'll tune thy woes with my lamenting tongue; 
+And drop sweet balm in Priam’s~ painted 
+wound, 
+
+
+And ral on Pyrrhus that hath done him 
+
+
+wrong; 
+
+
+And with my tears quench Troy that burns so | 
+
+
+ong; 
+
+And with my knife scratch out the angry 
+eyes 1469 
+
+Of all the Greeks that are thine enemies, 
+
+
+‘Show me the strumpet that began this stir, 
+\ That with my nai!s her beauty I may tear, 
+
+Thy heat of lust, fond Paris, did incur 
+
+This load of wrath that burning Troy doth 
+
+
+bear: 
+
+Thy eye kindled the fire that burneth here; 
+And here in Troy, for trespass of thine eye, 
+The sire, the son, the dame, and daughter 
+
+die, 
+
+
+"Why should the private pleasure of some one 
+
+Become the public plague of many moe? 
+
+Let sin, alone committed, light alone 1480 
+
+Upon his head that hath transgressed so; 
+
+Let guiltless souls be freed from guilty woe: 
+For one’s offence why should so many fall, 
+To plague a private sin in general? 
+
+
+‘Lo, here weeps Hecuba, here Priam dies, 
+
+Here manly Hector faints, here Troilus 
+swounds, 
+
+Here friend by friend in bloody channel lies, 
+
+And friend to friend gives unadvised wounds, 
+
+And one man’s lust these many lives con- 
+founds: 
+
+~~ Had doting Priam check’d his son’s desire, 
+
+Troy had been bright with fame and not 
+
+with fire. 1491] 
+
+
+Here feelingly she weeps Troy's painted woes: 
+For sorrow, like a heavy-hanging bell, 
+Once set on ringing, with his own weight 
+f goes; 
+Then little strength rings out the doleful 
+; knell: 
+‘So Lucrece, set a-work, sad tales doth tell 
+To pencill’d pensiveness and colour'd sor- 
+row: : 
+She lends them words, and ‘she their looks 
+doth borrow. 
+
+
+She throws her eyes about the painting round, 
+And whom she finds forlorn she doth lament. 
+At last she sees a wretched image bound, 
+That piteous looks to Phrygian shepherds 
+lent: 
+His face, though full, of cares, yet show'd 
+content; ° 
+Onward to Troy with the blunt swains he 
+oes, 
+So mild, that Patience seem’d to scorn his 
+woes. 
+
+
+In him the painter labour’d with his skill 
+
+To hide deceit, and give the harmless show 
+
+An ne gait, calm looks, eyes wailing 
+
+still, 
+
+A brow unbent, that seem’d to welcome woe; 
+
+Cheeks neither red nor pale, but mingled so 
+That blushing red no guilty instance gave, 
+Nor Aa pale the fear that false hearts 
+
+ave. 
+
+
+But, like a constant and confirmed devil, 
+
+He entertain’d a show so seeming just, 
+
+And therein so ensconced his secret evil, 
+
+That jealousy itself could not mistrust 
+
+False-creeping craft and perjury should thrust 
+Into so bright a day such black-faced 
+
+
+storms, 
+Or blot with hell-born sin such ssaint-like 
+forms. 1519 
+
+
+The well-skill’d workman this mild image 
+drew 
+For perjured Sinon, whose enchanting story 
+The credulous old Priam after slew; 
+Whose words like wildfire burnt the shining 
+glory 
+Of rich-built Ilion, that the skies were sorry, 
+And little stars shot from their fixed places, 
+When their glass fell wherein they view'd 
+their faces, 
+
+
+This picture she advisedly perused, 
+And chid the painter for his wondrous skill, 
+Saying, some shape in Sinon’s was abused; 
+So fair a form lodged not a mind so ill: 1530 
+And still on him she gazed; and gaz‘ng still, 
+Such signs of truth in his plain face she 
+spied,, 
+That she concludes the picture was belied. 
+
+
+‘It cannot be,’ quoth she, ‘that so much 
+guile’— 
+
+She would have said ‘can lurk in such a look ;" 
+
+But Tarquin’s shape came in her mind the 
+while, 
+
+And from her tongue ‘can lurk’ from “cannot” 
+
+
+took: 
+
+
+~ 1280 
+
+
+THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
+
+
+Scan ea ae 
+
+
+‘It cannot be’ she in that sense forsook, 
+And turn'd it thus, ‘It cannot be, I find, 
+But such a face should bear a wicked mind:. 
+
+
+‘For even as subtle Sinon here is painted, 
+So sober-sad, so weary, and so mild, 
+As if with grief or travail he had fainted, 
+To me came Tarquin armed; so beguiled 
+With outward honesty, but yet defiled 
+With inward vice: as Priam him did cherish, 
+So did I Tarquin; so my Troy did perish. 
+
+
+*Look,.. look, how listening Priam wets his 
+eyes, 
+To see those borrow'd tears that Sinon sheds! 
+Priam, why art thou old and yet not wise? 
+For every tear he falls a Trojan bleeds: 
+His eye drops fire, no water thence proceeds; 
+Those round clear pearls of his, that move 
+thy pity 
+Are balls of 
+
+
+“Such devils steal effects from lightless hell; 
+
+For Sinon in his fire doth quake with ccid, 
+
+And in that co!d hot-burning fire doth dwell; 
+
+These contraries such unity do hold, 
+
+Only to flatter fools and make them bold: 
+So Priam’s trust false Sinon’s tears doth 
+
+
+quenchless fire to burn thy city. 
+
+
+flatter, 1560 
+That he finds means to burn his Troy with 
+water.” 
+
+
+Here, all enraged, such passion her assails, 
+
+That patience is quite beaten from her breast. 
+
+She tears the senseless Sinon with her nails, 
+
+Comparing him to that unhappy guest 
+
+Whose deed hath made herself herself detest: 
+At last she smilingly with this gives o'er; 
+‘Fool, fool!” quoth she, ‘his wounds will not 
+
+be sore." 
+
+
+Thus ebbs and flows the current of her sorrow, 
+And time doth weary time with her com- 
+
+
+plaining. 1570 
+
+She looks for night, and then she longs for 
+morrow, 
+
+And both she thinks too long with her re- 
+maining: 
+
+Short time seems long in sorrow's sharp sus- 
+
+
+taining: 
+Though woe be heavy, yet it seldom sleeps; 
+And they that watch see time how slow it 
+creeps. 
+
+
+Which all this time hath overslipp’d her 
+thought, 
+That she with painted images hath spent; 
+Being from the feeling of her own grief 
+brought 
+By deep surmise of others’ detriment: 
+
+
+Losing her woes in shows of discontent. 1580 
+It easeth some, though none it ever cured, 
+To think their dolour others have endured. 
+
+
+But now the mindful messenger, come back, 
+Brings home his lord and other company; 
+Who finds his Lucrece clad in mourning black: 
+And round about her tear-distained eye 
+Blue oe stream'd, like rainbows in the 
+sky: 
+These water-galls in her dim element 
+Foretell new storms to those already spent. 
+
+
+Which when her sad-beholding husband saw, 
+
+Amazed!y in her sad face he stares: 1591 
+
+Her eyes, though sod in tears, look’d red and 
+
+raw, 
+
+Her lively colour kill’d with deadly cares. 
+
+He hath no power to ask her how she fares: 
+Both stood, like old acquaintance in a trance, 
+Met far from home, wondering each other's 
+
+chance, 
+
+
+At last he takes her by the bloodless hand, 
+And thus begins: ‘What uncouth ill event 
+Hath thee befall’n, that thou dost trembling 
+
+
+stand ? 
+Sweet love, what spite hath thy fair colour 
+spent? 1600 
+
+
+Why art thou thus attired in discontent? 
+Unmask, dear dear, this moody heaviness, 
+And tell thy grief, that we may give redress.” 
+
+
+Three times with sighs she. gives her sorrow 
+
+
+fire, 
+Ere once she,can discharge one word of woe: 
+At length address'd to answer his desire, 
+She modestly prepares to let them know 
+Her honour is ta’en prisoner by the foe; 
+While Collatine and his consorted lords 
+With sad attention long to hear her words. 
+
+
+And now this pale swan in her watery nest 
+Begins the sad dirge of her certain ending; 
+
+
+‘Few words,’ quoth she, ‘shall fit the trespass _ 
+
+
+best, 
+Where no excuse can g've the fault amending: 
+In me moe woes than words are now de- 
+pending; 
+And my laments would be drawn out too 
+ong, 
+
+
+To tell 
+
+
+‘Then be this all the task it hath to say: 
+Dear husband, in the interest of thy bed 
+
+
+stranger came, and on that pillow lay 1620 
+
+
+Where thou wast wont to rest thy weary head; 
+And what wrong else may be imagined 
+By foul enforcement might be done to me, 
+From that, alas, thy Lucrece is not free. 
+
+
+g 
+them all with one poor tired tongue, _ 
+
+
+THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
+
+
+1281 
+
+
+‘For in the dreadful dead of dark midnight, 
+With shining falchion in my chamber came 
+A creep’ng creature, with a flaming light, 
+And softly cried “Awake, thou Roman dame, 
+And entertain my love; else lasting shame 
+On thee and thine this night I will inflict, 
+If thou my love’s desire do contradict. 1631 
+
+
+““For some hard-favour’d groom of thine,” 
+quoth he, 
+“Unless thou yoke thy liking to my will, 
+I'll murder straight, and then I'll slaughter 
+thee 
+And swear I found you where you did fulfil 
+The loathsome act of lust, and so did kill 
+The lechers in ther deed: this -act will be 
+My fame and thy perpetual infamy.” 
+
+
+“With this, I did begin to start and cry; 
+And then against my heart he sets his sword, 
+Swearing, unless I took all patiently, 1641 
+I should not live to speak another word; 
+So should my shame still rest upon record, 
+And never be forgot in mighty Rome 
+Th’ adulterate death of Lucrece and her 
+groom. 
+
+
+‘Mine enemy was strong. my poor self weak, 
+
+And far the weaker with so strong a fear: 
+
+My bloody judge forbade my tongue to speak; 
+
+No rightful plea might plead for justice the-e: 
+
+His scarlet lust came evidence to swear 1650 
+That my’poor beauty had purloin'd his eyes; 
+ae the judge°is robb’d the prisoner 
+
+ies. 
+
+
+*‘O, teach me how to make mine own excuse! 
+
+Or at the least this refuge let me find; 
+
+Though my gross blood be stain’d with this 
+
+abuse, 
+
+Immaculate and spotless is my mind; 
+
+That was not forced: that never was inclined 
+To accessary yieldings, but still pure 
+Doth in her poison’d closet yet endure.” 
+
+
+Lo, here, the hopeless merchant of this loss, 
+With head declined, and voice damm’d up 
+with woe, 1661 
+With sad set eyes, and wretched arms across, 
+From lips new-waxen pale begins to blow 
+The grief away that stops his answer so: 
+But, wretched as he is, he strives in vain; 
+
+
+What he breathes out his breath drinks up 
+
+
+again. 
+
+
+As through an arch the violent roaring tide 
+Outruns the eye that doth behold his haste, 
+Yet in the eddy boundeth in his pride 1649 
+
+
+Back to the strait that forced him on so fast; 
+
+
+In rage sent out, recall’d in rage, being past: 
+Even so his sighs, his sorrows, make a saw, 
+To push grief on, and back the same grief 
+
+draw. 
+
+
+Which speechless woe of his poor she attendeth, 
+And his untimely frenzy thus awaketh: 
+‘Dear Lord, thy sorrow to my sorrow lendeth 
+Another power; no flood by raining slaketh, 
+My woe too sensible thy passion maketh 
+More feeling-painful: let it then suffice 
+To drown one woe, one pair of weeping 
+
+
+. eyes, 1680 
+
+
+‘And for my sake, when I might charm thee so 
+For she that was thy Lucrece, now attend me: 
+Be suddenly revenged on my foe, 
+Thine, mine, his own: suppose thou dost de- 
+fend me 
+From what is past: the help that thou shalt 
+lend me 
+Comes all too late, yet let the traitor die; 
+For sparing justice feeds iniquity. 
+
+
+“But ere I name him, you fair lords,’ quoth 
+she, 
+Speaking to those that came with Collatine, 
+‘Shall plight your honourable faiths to me, 
+With swift pursuit to venge this wrong of 
+mine; 
+For ‘tis a meritorious fair design 
+To chase injustice with revengeful arms: 
+Kn‘ghts, by their oaths, should right poor 
+ladies’ harms.’ 
+
+
+At this request, with noble disposition 
+
+Each present lord began to promise aid, 
+
+As bound in knighthood to her imposition, 
+
+Longing to hear the hateful foe bewray'd. 
+
+But she, that yet her sad task hath not said, 
+The protestation stops. “O, speak,’ quoth 
+
+
+she, 1700 
+‘How may this forced stain be wiped from 
+me? 
+
+
+“What is the qual'ty of mine offence, 
+
+Being constrain’d with dreadful circumstance ? 
+ay my pure mind with the foul act dispense, 
+
+My low-declined honour to advance? 
+
+May any terms acquit me from this chance? 
+The poison’d fountain clears itself again; 
+And why not I from this compelled stain >’ 
+
+
+With this, they all at once began to say, 1709 
+
+Her body’s stain her m'nd untainted clears; 
+
+While with a joyless smile she turns away 
+
+The face, that map: which deep impression 
+bears 
+
+
+1282 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
+
+
+Thou wast not to this end from me derived, 
+If children pre-decease progenitors, 
+We are their offspring, and they none of ours. 
+
+
+Of hard misfortune, carved in it with tears. 
+“No; no,’ quoth she, ‘no dame, hereafter 
+living, 
+By my excuse shall claim excuse’s giving.’ 
+‘| ‘Poor broken glass, I often did behold 
+In thy sweet semblance my old age new born; 
+But now that fair fresh mirror, dim and old, 
+
+
+Here with a sigh, as if her heart would break, 
+She throws forth Tarquin’s name: ‘He, he,’ 
+
+
+she says, Shows me a bare-boned death by time out- 
+But more than ‘he’ her poor tongue could worn: 
+not speak; O, from thy cheeks my image thou hast torn, 
+
+
+Till after many accents and delays, 
+Untimely breathings, sick and short assays, 
+She utters this, ‘He, he, fair lords, "tis he, 
+That guides this hand to give this wound 
+* to me.’ 
+
+
+And shiver'd all the beauty of my glass, 
+That I no more can see what once I was! 
+
+
+‘O time, cease thou thy course and last no 
+longer, 
+
+If they surcease to be that should survive. 
+
+Shall rotten death make conguest of the 
+stronger 
+
+And leave the falter'ng feeble souls alive? 
+
+The old bees die, the young possess their hive: 
+
+Then live, sweet Luerece, live again and see 
+
+
+Thy father die, and not thy father thee!’ 
+
+
+Even here she sheathed in her harmless breast 
+A harmful knife, that thence her soul un- 
+sheathed: 
+That blow did bail it from the deep unrest 
+Of that polluted prison where it breathed: 
+Her contr te sighs unto the clouds bequeathed 
+Her winged sprite, and through her wounds 
+doth fly 
+
+
+By this, starts Collatine as from a dream, 
+Life's lasting date from cancell'd destiny. 
+
+
+And bids Lucretius give his sorrow place; 
+And then in key-cold Lucrece’ bleeding stream 
+He falls, and bathes the pale fear in his face, 
+And counterfeits to die with her a space; 
+Till manly shame bids him possess his breath 
+And live to be revenged on her death. 
+
+
+Stone-still, astonish'd with this deadly deed, 
+Stood Collatine and all his lordly crew; 173] 
+Till Lucrece’ father, that beholds her bleed, 
+Himself on her self-slaughter’d body threw; 
+And from the purple fountain Brutus drew 
+
+
+The murderous knife, and, as it left the | The deep vexation of his inward soul 1779 
+
+
+place, Hath served a dumb arrest upon his tongue; f 
+Her blood, in poor revenge, held it in| Who, mad that sorrow should his use control, : 
+chase; Or keep him from heart-easing words so long, 
+
+
+Begins to talk; but through his lips do throng 
+
+Weak words, so thick come in his poor 
+heart's aid, 
+
+That no man could distinguish what he said, 
+
+
+And bubbling from her breast, it doth divide 
+In two slow rivers, that the crimson blood 
+Circles her body in on every side, 
+‘Who, like a late-sack'd island, vastly stood 
+Bare and unpeopled in this fearful flood. 
+Some of her blood still pure and red 
+remain’d, 
+And some look’d black, and that false Tar- 
+
+
+quin stain’d, 
+
+
+Yet sometime “Tarqu'n’ was pronounced plain, 
+
+But through his teeth, as if the name he tore. 
+
+This windy tempest, till it blow up rain, -* 
+
+Held back his sorrow’s tide, to make it more; 
+
+At last it rains, and busy winds give o'er: 
+Then son and father weep with equal strife 
+dale! should weep most, for daughter or for 
+
+wife. 
+
+
+About the mourning and congealed face 
+
+Of that black blood a watery rigol goes, 
+
+Which seems to weep upon the tainted place: 
+
+And ever since, as pitying Lucrece’ woes, 
+
+Corrupted blood some watery token shows; 
+And blood untainted still doth red abide, 
+Blushing at that which is so putrified. 1750 
+
+
+The one doth call her his, the other his, 
+Yet ne'ther may possess the claim they lay. 
+The father says ‘She's mine,’ ‘O, mine she is,” 
+Replies her husband: ‘do not take away 
+
+y sorrow's interest; let no mournér say 
+
+He weeps for her, for she was only mine, 
+
+
+‘Daughter, dear daughter,’ old Lucretius cries, 
+And only must be wail’d by Collatine.’ 
+
+
+“That life was mine which thou hast here 
+deprived. 
+
+If im the child the father’s image lies, 
+
+Where shall I live now Lucrece is unliyved ? 
+
+
+‘O,' quoth Lucretius, ‘I did give that life 1800 
+ich she too early and too late hath spill’d.” 
+
+
+THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
+
+
+1283 
+
+
+"Woe, woe, quoth Collatine, ‘she was my wife, 
+I owed her, and ‘tis mine that she hath kill’d.’ 
+“My daughter’ and ‘my wife’ with clamours 
+fill’d 
+The dispersed air, who, holding Lucrece’ 
+life, 
+Answer’d their cries, ‘my daughter’ and ‘my 
+wife.” 
+
+
+Brutus, who pluck’d the knife from Lucrece’ 
+side, 
+
+Seeing such emulation in their woe, 
+Began to clothe his wit in state and pride, 
+Burying in Lucrece’ wound his folly’s show. 
+He with the Romans was esteemed so 181] 
+© As silly-jeering idiots are with kings, 
+
+For sportive words and uttering foolish 
+
+things: 
+
+
+But now he throws that shallow habit by, 
+Wherein deep. policy did him disguise; 
+And arm’d hs long-hid wits advisedly, 
+To check the tears in Collatinus’ eyes. 
+“Thou wronged lord of Rome,’ quoth he, 
+‘arise: 
+Let my unsounded self, supposed a fool, 
+Now set thy long-experienced wit to school. 
+
+
+“Why, Collatine, is woe the cure for woe? 
+Do wounds help wounds, or grief help griev- 
+ous deeds? 
+
+Is it revenge to give thyself a blow 
+
+For his foul act by whom thy fair wife bleeds? 
+
+Such childish humour from weak minds pro- 
+
+ceeds: 
+
+’ Thy wretched w fe mistook the matter so, 
+To ey herself, that should have slain her 
+
+‘oe. 
+
+
+‘Courageous Roman, do not steep thy heart 
+In such relenting dew of lamentations; 1829 
+But kneel with me and help to bear thy part, 
+To rouse our Roman gods with invocations, 
+That they will suffer these abominations, 
+Since Rome herself in them doth stand 
+disgraced, 
+By our strong arms from forth her fair 
+streets chased. 
+
+
+‘Now, by the Capitol that we adore, 
+And by this chaste blood so unjustly stain’d, 
+By heaven’s fair sun that breeds the fat 
+earth's store, 
+By all our country rights in Rome maintain’d, 
+And by chaste Lucrece’ soul that late com- 
+plain'd 
+Her wrongs to us, and by this bloody knife, 
+We will revenge the death of this true wife.” 
+
+
+This said, he struck his hand upon his breast, 
+And kissd the fatal knife, to end his vow; 
+And to his protestation urged the rest, 
+Who, wondering at h'm, did his words allow: 
+Then jointly to the ground their knees they 
+bow; 
+And that deep vow, which Brutus made 
+before, 
+He doth again repeat, and that they swore. 
+
+
+When they had sworn to this advised doom, 
+They did conclude to bear dead Lucrece 
+thence; 
+
+To show her bleeding body thorough Rome, 
+
+And so to publish Tarquin’s foul offence: 
+
+Which being done with speedy diligence, 
+The Romans plausibly did g've consent 
+To Tarquin’s everlasting banishment. 
+
+
+SONNETS 
+
+
+TO THE ONLIE BEGETTER OF 
+THESE INSUING SONNETS 
+MR. W. H. ALL HAPPINESSE 
+AND THAT ETERNITIE 
+PROMISED BY 
+OUR EVER-LIVING POET 
+
+
+WISH 
+
+
+EEL 
+
+
+THE WELL-WISHING 
+ADVENTURER IN 
+SETTING 
+FORTH 
+
+
+1, 
+FRom fairest creatures we desire increase, 
+That thereby beauty's rose m‘ght never die, 
+But as the riper should by time decease, 
+His tender heir might bear his memory : 
+But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes, 
+Feed’st thy light’s flame with self-substantial 
+fuel, 
+
+Making a famine where abundance lies, 
+Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel. 
+Thou that art now the world’s fresh ornament 
+And only herald to the gaudy spring, 
+Within thine own bud buriest thy content 
+And, tender churl, makest waste in n ggarding. 
+
+Pity the world, or else this glutton be, 
+
+To eat the world’s due, by the grave and thee, 
+
+
+Il, 
+When forty winters shall besiege thy brow, 
+And dig deep trenches in thy beauty’s field, 
+Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now, 
+Will be a tatter’d weed, of small worth held: 
+Then being ask’d where all thy beauty lies, 
+Where all the treasure of thy lusty days, 
+To say, within thine own deep-sunken eyes, 
+Were an a!l-eating shame and thriftless praise. 
+How much more praise deserved thy beauty’s 
+use, 
+
+If thou couldst answer “This fair child of mine 
+Shall sum my count and make my old excuse,” 
+Proving his beauty by succession thine! 
+
+This were to be new made when thou art old, 
+
+And see thy blood warm when thou feel’st 
+
+it cold. 
+
+
+Ill, 
+Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou 
+viewest 
+Now is the time that face should form another; 
+Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest, 
+Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some 
+mother. 
+
+
+rious P 
+For where is she so fair whose unear'd womb 
+Disdains the tllage of thy husbandry ? 
+Or who is he so fond will be the tomb 
+Of his self-love, to stop posterity ? 
+Thou art thy mother’s glass, and she in thee 
+Calls back the lovely April of her prime: 
+So thou through windows of thine age shalr 
+see 
+Despite of wrinkles this thy golden time. 
+But if thou live, remember'd not to be, 
+Die single, and thine image dies with thee. 
+
+
+IV, 
+
+Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend 
+Upon thyself thy beauty’s legacy? 
+Nature's bequest gives nothing but doth lend, 
+And being frank she lends to those are free. 
+Then, beauteous niggard, why dost thot abuse 
+The bounteous largess given thee to give? 
+Profitless usurer, why dost thou use 
+So great a sum of sums, yet canst not live? 
+For having trafic with thyself alone, 
+Thou of thyself thy sweet self dost deceive. 
+Then how, when nature calls thee to be gone, 
+What acceptable audit canst thou leave? 
+
+Thy ee beauty must be tomb'd with 
+
+thee, 
+Which, used, lives th’ executor to be. 
+
+
+Lg 
+
+
+Thése hours, that with gentle work did frame 
+
+The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell, 
+
+Will play the tyrants to the very same 
+
+And that unfair which fairly doth excel; 
+
+For never-resting time leads summer on 
+
+To hideous winter and confounds him there; 
+
+Sap check’d with frost and lusty leaves quite 
+
+gone, 
+
+Beauty o’ersnow'd and bareness every where 
+hen, were not summer's distillation left, 
+
+A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass, 
+
+Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft, 
+
+
+1284 
+
+
+SONNETS 
+
+
+1285 
+
+
+Nor it nor no remembrance what it was: 
+But flowers distill’d, though they with win- 
+ter meet, 
+Leese but their show; their substance still 
+lives sweet. 
+
+
+Vi. 
+
+
+Then let not winter’s ragged hand deface 
+In thee thy summer, ere thou be distill’d: 
+Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some 
+place 
+With beauty’s treasure, ere it be self-kill’d. 
+That use is not forbidden usury 
+Which happies those that pay the willing loan; 
+That's for thyself to breed another thee, 
+Or ten times happier, be it ten for one; 
+Ten times thyself were happier than thou art, 
+If ten of thine ten times refigured thee: 
+Then what could death do, if thou shouldst 
+depart, 
+Leaving thee living in posterity ? 
+Be not self-will’d, for thou art much too fair 
+To be death’s conquest and make worms 
+
+
+thine heir. 
+
+
+Vil, 
+
+
+Lo! in the orient when the gracious light 
+Lifts up his burning head, each under eye 
+Doth homage to his new-appearing sight, 
+Serving with looks his sacred majesty; 
+And having climb’d the steep-up heavenly hill, 
+Resembling strong youth in his middle age, 
+Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still, 
+Attending on his golden pilgrimage; 
+But when from highmost pitch, with weary 
+wr ycak, 
+Like feeble age, he reeleth from the day, 
+The eyes, ‘fore duteous, now converted are 
+From his low tract and look another way: 
+So thou, thyself out-going in thy noon, 
+Unlook’d on diest, unless thou get a son. 
+
+
+Vill. 
+
+
+Music to hear, why hear’st thou music sadly ? 
+Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in 
+
+
+joy. 
+Why lovest thou that which thou receivest 
+not gladly, 
+Or else receivest w'th pleasure thine annoy ? 
+If the true concord of well-tuned sounds, 
+By unions married, do offend thine ear, 
+They do but sweetly chide thee, who con- 
+
+
+ounds 
+
+In singleness the parts that thou shouldst 
+bear. 
+
+Mark how one string, sweet husband to an- 
+other, 
+
+
+Strikes each in each by mutual ordering, 
+Resembling sire and child and happy mother 
+
+
+Who all in one, one pleasing note do sing: 
+Whose speechless song, being many, seem- 
+ing one, 
+Sings this to thee: ‘thou single wilt prove 
+none.” 
+
+
+IX. 
+
+
+Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye 
+
+That thou consumest thyself in single life> 
+Ah! if thou issueless shall hap to die, 
+
+The world will wail thee, like a makeless wife; 
+The world will be thy widow and still weep 
+That thou no form of thee hast left behind, 
+When every private widow well may. keep 
+By children’s eyes her husband's shape in 
+
+
+mind. 
+
+Look, what an unthrift in the world doth 
+spend 
+
+Shifts but his place, for still the world en- 
+joys it; 
+
+
+But beauty’s waste hath in the world an end, 
+
+And kept unused, the user so destroys it. 
+No love toward others in that bosom sits 
+That on himself such murderous shame 
+
+
+commits, 
+Xx. 
+For shame! deny that thou bear'st love to 
+any, 
+
+
+Who for thyself art so unprovident. 
+Grant, if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many, 
+But that thou none loyest is most evident; 
+For thou art so possess’d with murderous hate 
+That ‘gainst thyself thou stick’st not to con- 
+spire, 
+Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate 
+Which to repair should be thy chief desire. 
+O, change thy thought, that I may change 
+my mind! 
+Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love? 
+Be, as thy presence is, gracious and kind, 
+Or to thyself at least kind-hearted prove: 
+Make thee another self, for love of me, 
+That beauty still may live in thine or thee. 
+
+
+XI. 
+
+As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou 
+growest 
+
+In one of thine, from that which thou de- 
+partest; 
+
+And that fresh blood which youngly thou 
+bestowest 
+
+Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth 
+convertest. 
+
+
+Herein lives wisdom, beauty and increase; 
+
+Without this, folly, age and cold decay: 
+
+If all were minded so, the times should cease 
+
+And threescore year would make the world 
+away. 
+
+
+1286 SONNETS Sone ee 
+
+
+SS 
+
+Let those whom Nature hath not made for|As truth and beauty shall together thrive, — 
+store, If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert; 
+
+Harsh, featureless and rude, barrenly perish: Or else of thee this I prognosticate: 
+
+Look, whom she best endow’d she gave the} Thy end is truth’s and beauty’s doom and 
+more; date. 
+
+Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty 
+cherish: 
+
+
+She carved thee for her seal, and meant 
+
+
+XV. 
+When I consider every thing that grows 
+
+
+thereby ; Holds in perfection but a little moment, 
+Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy) That this huge stage presenteth nought but 
+die. shows 
+XIL. Whereon the stars in secret influence com- 
+When I do count the clock that tells the time, ment; 
+
+
+When I perce've that men as plants increase, 
+a and check’d even by the self-same 
+Sky, 
+Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease, 
+And wear their brave state out of memory ; 
+Then the conceit of this inconstant stay 
+Sets you most rich in youth before my sight, 
+Where wasteful Time debateth with Decay, 
+To change your day of youth to sullied night; 
+And all in war with Time for love of you, 
+As he takes from you, I engraft you new. 
+
+
+And see the brave day sunk in hideous night; 
+When I behold the violet past prime, 
+And sable curls all silver'd o’er with white; 
+When lofty trees I see barren of leaves 
+Which erst from heat did canopy the herd, 
+And summet’s green all girded up in sheaves 
+Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard, 
+Then of thy beauty do I question make, 
+That thou among the wastes of time must go, 
+Since sweets and beauties do themselves for- 
+sake 
+And die as fast as they see others grow ; 
+And nothing ‘gainst Time's scythe can make 
+defence 
+Save breed, to brave him when he takes 
+thee hence. 
+
+
+XVI. 
+
+
+But wherefore do not you a mightier way 
+Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time? 
+And fortify yourself in your decay 
+
+
+Xl. With means more blessed than my barrez i 
+
+
+rhyme? 1 P 
+ane you were ear tial but, ee a are | Now sad you on the top of happy hours, t 
+© Tonger yours than you yourself here live: | 04 . rt 
+Against this coming end you should prepare, pc many maiden gardens yet unset i) 
+
+
+With virtuous wish would ‘bear your living 
+flowers, * 
+
+Much liker than your painted counterfeit: 
+
+So should the lines of life that life repair, 
+
+Wh ch this, Time's pencil, or my pupil pen, 
+
+Neither in inward worth nor outward fair, 
+
+Can make you live yourself in eyes of men. 
+To give away yourself keeps yourself still, 
+And you must live, drawn by your own. 
+
+sweet skill. ' i 
+
+
+And your sweet semblance to some other give, 
+So should that beauty which you hold in lease 
+Find no determination; then you were 
+Yourself again after yourself’s decease, 
+When your sweet issue your sweet form 
+
+should bear. 
+Who lets so fair a house fall to decay, 
+Which husbandry in honour might uphold 
+Against the stormy gusts of winter's day 
+And barren rage of death’s eternal cold? 
+
+, none but unthrifts! Dear my love, you 
+
+know 
+You had a father: let your son say so. 
+
+
+XVII. 
+
+
+Who will believe my verse in time to come, 
+If it were fill’d with your most high deserts? 
+Though yet, heaven knows, it is but as a tomb — 
+Which h'des your life and shows not half — 
+your parts, 
+If I could write the beauty of your eyes 
+And in fresh numbers number all your graces, © 
+The age to come would say ‘This poet lies; 
+Such heavenly touches ne'er touch’d earthly 
+faces.’ fag 
+So should my papers yellow'd with their age 
+Be scorn'd like old men of less truth than 
+tongue, 
+
+
+XIV. 
+
+
+Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck; 
+And yet methinks I have astronomy, 
+
+But not to tell of good or evil luck, 
+
+Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons’ quality ; 
+Nor can | fortune to brief minutes tell, 
+Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind, 
+Or say with princes if it shall go well, 
+
+By oft predict that I in heaven find: 
+
+But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive, 
+And, constant stars, in them I read such art 
+
+
+SONNETS {287 
+
+
+{ 
+
+
+And for a woman wert thou first created; 
+Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting, 
+And by addition me of thee defeated, 
+
+
+And your true rights be term’d a poet's rage 
+And stretched metre of an antique song: 
+But were some child of yours alive that. 
+
+
+time, By adding one thing to my purpose nothing. 
+You should live twice; in it and in my | But since she prick’d thee out for women's 
+rhyme. pleasure, 
+; Xvi. Mine be thy love and thy love's use their 
+treasure, 
+
+
+Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? 
+Thou art more lovely and more temperate: 
+
+
+Rough winds do shake the darling buds of peace 
+
+
+So is it not with meas with that Muse 
+Stirr’d by a painted beauty to his verse, 
+Who heaven itself for ornament doth use 
+And every fair with his fair doth rehearse; 
+aking a couplement of proud compare, 
+With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich 
+gems, 
+With April's first-born flowers, and all things 
+rare 
+That heaven’s air in this huge rondure hems. 
+O, let me, true in loye, but truly write, 
+And then believe me, my love is as fair 
+As any mother’s child, though not so bright 
+As those gold candles fix'd in heaven's air: 
+Let them say more that like of hearsay well; 
+I will not praise that purpose not to sell. 
+
+
+y, 
+And summer's lease hath all too short a date: 
+Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, 
+And often is his go'd complexion dimm’d; 
+And every fair from fair sometime declines, 
+By chance or nature's changing course un- 
+trimm'd; 
+But thy eternal summer shall not fade 
+Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; 
+Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his 
+shade, 
+When in eternal lines to time thou growest: 
+So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, 
+So long I'ves this and this gives life to thee. 
+
+
+XIX, 
+
+
+Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion’s paws, 
+
+And make the earth devour her own sweet 
+brood; 
+
+_ Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's 
+
+
+jaws, 
+And burn the long-lived pheenix in her blood; 
+Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleets, 
+And do whate’er thou wilt, swift-footed Time, 
+To the wide world and all her fading sweets; 
+But I forbid thee one most heinous crime: 
+O, carve not with thy hours my love's fair 
+
+
+XXII. 
+
+
+My glass shall not persuade me I am old, 
+So long as youth and thou are of one date; 
+But when in thee time’s furrows I behold, 
+Then look I death my days should expiate. 
+For all that beauty that doth cover thee 
+
+Is but the seemly raiment of my heart, 
+
+Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me: 
+How can I then be elder than thou art? 
+
+O, therefore, love, be of thyself so wary 
+
+
+“brow P 
+4 é : : : As I, not for myself, but for thee will; 
+Nor fart no lines there with thine ant:que Bearing thy heart, which’ will keep so chary 
+
+
+As tender nurse her babe from faring ill. 
+Presume not on thy heart when mine is 
+slain; 
+Thou gavest me thine, not to give back again. 
+
+
+Him in thy course untainted do allow 
+
+For beauty’s pattern to succeeding men. 
+
+Yet, do thy worst, old Time: despite thy 
+wrong, 
+
+
+‘My love shall in my verse ever live young, fee 
+
+
+XX. As an unperfect actor on the stage 
+A woman's face with Nature's own hand | Who with his fear is put besides his part, 
+painted Or some fierce thing replete with too much 
+Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion; rage, 
+woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted | Whose strength’s abundance weakens his own 
+With shifting change, as is false women’s heart, 
+: fashion; So I, for fear of trust, forget to say 
+_ An eye more bright than theirs, less false in| The perfect ceremony of love's rite, 
+; rolling, And in mine own love’s strength seem to decay, 
+
+
+_ Gilding the object whereupon. it gazeth; 
+man in hue, all ‘hues’ in his controlling, 
+Which steals men’s eyes and women’s souls 
+
+amazeth, 
+
+
+O'ercharged with burden of mine own love's 
+might. 
+
+O, let my books be then the eloquence - 
+
+And dumb presagers of my speaking breast, 
+
+
+1288 
+
+
+SONNETS 
+
+
+nn nnn EEE EE EEEEEnEEeEnnmentn 
+
+
+Who plead for love and look for recompense 
+
+More than that tongue that more hath more 
+express'd, 
+
+O, learn to read what silent love hath writ: 
+
+To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit. 
+
+
+XXIV. 
+Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath 
+stell'd 
+
+Thy beauty’s form in table of my heart; 
+My body is the frame wherein ‘tis held, 
+And perspect've it is best painter's art. 
+
+For through the painter must you see his skill, 
+To find where your true image pictured lies; 
+Which in my bosom’s shop is hanging still, 
+That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes. 
+Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have 
+
+
+done: 
+
+Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine 
+for me 
+
+Are windows to my breast, where-through the 
+sun 
+
+
+Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee; 
+Yet eyes th's cunning want to grace their 
+art; 
+They draw but what they see, know not the 
+heart. 
+
+
+XXV,. 
+
+
+Let those who are in favour with their stars 
+
+Of public honour and proud titles boast 
+
+Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars, 
+
+Unlook’d for joy in that I honour most. 
+
+Great princes’ favourites their fair leaves spread 
+
+But as the marigold at the sun’s eye, 
+
+And in themselves their pride les buried, 
+
+For at a frown they in their glory die. 
+
+The painful warrior famoused for fight, 
+
+After a thousand victories once foil'd, 
+
+Is from the book of honour razed quite, 
+
+And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd; 
+Then happy I, that love and am beloved 
+Where I may not remove nor be removed. 
+
+
+XXVI. 
+
+
+Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage 
+
+Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit, 
+
+To thee I send this written embassage, 
+
+To witness duty, not to show my wt: 
+
+Duty so great, which wit so poor as mine 
+
+May make seem bare, in wanting words to 
+show it, 
+
+But that I hope some good conceit of thine 
+
+In thy soul's thought, all naked, will bestow it; 
+
+Till whatsoever star that guides my moving 
+
+Points on me graciously with fair aspect 
+
+And puts apparel on my tatter’d loving, 
+
+To show me worthy of thy sweet respect: 
+
+
+Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee; 
+Till then not show my head where thou 
+mayst prove me, 
+
+
+XXVIL. 
+
+
+Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed, 
+The dear repose for limbs with travel tired; 
+But then begins a journey in my head, 
+To work my mind, when body's work's ex- 
+pired: 
+For then my thoughts, from far where I abide, 
+Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, 
+And keep my drooping eyelids open wide, 
+Looking on darkness which the bl nd do see: 
+Save that my soul's imaginary sight 
+Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, 
+Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night, 
+Makes black night beauteous and her old 
+face new. 
+Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my 
+mind, 
+For thee and for myself no quiet find. 
+
+
+XXVIII. 
+
+
+How can I then return in happy plight, 
+That am debarr'd the benefit of rest? 
+When day’s oppression is not eased by night, 
+But day by night, and night by day, oppress'd? 
+And each, though enemies to either’s reign, 
+Do in consent shake hands to torture me; 
+The one by toil, the other to complain 
+How far I toil, still farther off from thee. 
+I tell the day, to please him thou art bright 
+And dost him grace when clouds do blot the 
+heaven: 
+So flatter I the swart-complexion’d night, 
+When sparkling stars tw:re not thou gild’st the 
+even. 
+But day doth daily draw my sorrows longe) 
+And night doth nightly make grief’s strength 
+seem stronger, 
+
+
+XXIX, 
+When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes, 
+I all alone beweep my outcast state 
+And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless 
+cries 
+And look upon myself and curse my fate, 
+W shing me like to one more rich in, hope, 
+
+
+Featured like him, like him with’ friends 
+
+
+possess'd, 
+Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope, 
+With what I most enjoy contented least; 
+
+
+Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising — | 
+
+
+oe 
+a 
+
+
+Haply I think on thee, and then my state, 
+
+Like to the lark at break of day arising 
+
+From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's 
+gate; 
+
+
+Cas he ee, 
+
+
+a ee ee 
+
+
+SONNETS 
+
+
+“A 
+
+
+For thy sweet love remember’d such wealth 
+brings 
+That then I scorn to change my state with 
+kings. 
+XXX. 
+
+
+When to the sessions of sweet silent thought 
+
+I summon up remembrance of things past, 
+
+I sigh the lack of many a thing | sought, 
+
+And with old woes new wail my dear time’s 
+waste: 
+
+Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, 
+
+For precious friends hid in death's dateless 
+night, 
+
+And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd 
+woe, 
+
+And moan the expense of many a vanish'd 
+sight: 
+
+Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, 
+
+And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er 
+
+The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, 
+
+Which I new pay as ‘f not paid before. 
+
+But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, 
+
+
+All losses are restored and sorrows end. 
+
+
+XXXI. 
+
+
+Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts, 
+Which I by lacking have supposed dead, 
+And there reigns love and all love's loving 
+parts, 
+“And all those friends which I thought buried. 
+How many a holy and obsequious tear 
+Hath dear religious love stol’n from mine eye 
+As interest of the dead, which now appear 
+But things removed. that hidden in thee lie! 
+Thou art the grave where buried love doth live, 
+Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone, 
+
+
+» Who all their parts of me to thee did give; 
+
+
+That due of many now ‘s thine alone: 
+Their images I loved I view in thee, 
+
+
+And thou, all they, hast all the all of me. 
+
+
+XXXII. 
+If thou survive my well-contented day, 
+
+
+When that churl Death my bones with dust 
+shall cover, 
+And shalt by fortune once more re-survey 
+These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover, 
+Compare them with the bettering of the time, 
+And though they be outstripp'd by every pen, 
+Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme, 
+Exceeded by the height of happier men. 
+O, then vouchsafe me but this loving thought: 
+‘Had my friend’s Muse grown with this grow- 
+ing age, 
+A dearer birth than this his love had brought, 
+To march in ranks of better equipage: 
+But since he died and poets better prove, 
+Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his 
+
+
+, 
+ove. 
+
+
+! 
+1289 
+
+
+XXXII. 
+
+
+Full many a glorious morning have I seen 
+Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, 
+Kissing with golden face the meadows green, 
+Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy; 
+Anon permit the basest clouds to ride 
+With ugly rack on his celestial face, 
+And from the forlorn world his visage hide, 
+Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace: 
+Even so my sun one early morn did shine 
+With all-triumphant splendour on my brow; 
+But out, alack! he was but one hour mine; 
+The region cloud hath mask’d him from me 
+now. 
+Yet him for this my love no whit dis- 
+daineth; 
+Suns of the world may stain when heaven’s 
+sun staineth, 
+
+
+XXXIV. 
+
+
+Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day 
+And make me travel forth without my cloak, 
+To let base clouds o’ertake me in my way, 
+Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke? 
+"Tis not enough that through the cloud thou 
+break, 
+To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face, 
+For no man well of such a salve can speak 
+That heals the wound and cures not the dis- 
+grace: 
+Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief; 
+Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss: 
+The offender’s sorrow lends but weak relief 
+To him that bears the strong offence’s cross. 
+Ah! but those tears are pearl which thy 
+love sheds, 
+And they are rich and ransom all ill deeds, 
+' XXXV. 
+No more be grieved at that which thou hast 
+done: 
+Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud; 
+Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun, 
+And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud. 
+All men make faults, and even I in this, 
+Authorizing thy trespass with compare, 
+Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss, 
+Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are; 
+For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense— 
+Thy adverse party is thy advocate— 
+And ‘gainst myself a lawful plea commence: 
+Such civil war is in my love and hate 
+That I an accessary needs must be 
+To that sweet thief which sourly robs from 
+me. 
+
+
+XXXVI 
+Let me confess that we two must be twain, 
+
+
+Although our undivided loves are one: 
+
+
+1290 
+
+
+AGS Mie 
+
+
+SONNETS 
+
+
+So shall those blots that do with me remain 
+Without thy help by me be borne alone. 
+In our two loves there is but one respect, 
+Though in our lives a separable spite, 
+Which though it alter not love's sole effect, 
+Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love's 
+delight. 
+I may not evermore acknowledge thee, 
+Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame, 
+Nor thou with public kindness honour me, 
+Unless thou take that honour from thy name: 
+But do not so; I love thee in such sort 
+As, thou being mine, mine is thy good re- 
+port. 
+
+
+XXXVII. 
+
+
+As a decrepit father takes delight 
+To see his active child do deeds of youth, 
+So I, made lame by fortune’s dearest spite, 
+Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth. 
+For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit, 
+Or any of these all, or all, or more, 
+Entitled in thy parts do crowned sit, 
+I make my love engrafted to this store: 
+So then I am not lame, poor, nor despised, 
+Whilst that this shadow doth such substance 
+give 
+That I in thy abundance am sufficed 
+And by a part of all thy glory live. 
+Look, what is best, that best I wish in thee: 
+This wish I have; then ten times happy me! 
+
+
+XXXVI. 
+
+
+How can my Muse want subject to invent, 
+While thou dost breathe, that pour’st into my 
+verse 
+Thine own sweet argument, too excellent 
+For every vulgar paper to rehearse? 
+O, give thyself the thanks, if aught in me 
+Worthy perusal stand against thy sight; 
+For who's so dumb that cannot write to thee, 
+When thou thyself dost give invention light? 
+Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in 
+worth 
+Than those old nine which rhymers invocate; 
+And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth 
+Eternal numbers to outlive long date. 
+If my slight Muse do please these curious 
+days, 
+The pain be mine, but thine shall be the 
+praise. 
+
+
+XXXIX. 
+O, how thy worth with manners may I sing, 
+When thou art all the better part of me? 
+What can mine own praise to mine own self 
+bring > 
+And what ist but mine own when I praise 
+
+
+thee? 
+
+
+Even for this let us divided live, 
+
+And our dear love lose name of single one, 
+That by this separation I may give 
+
+That due to thee which thou deservest alone. 
+O absence, what a torment wouldst thou prove, 
+Were it not thy sour leisure gave sweet leave 
+To entertain the time with thoughts of love, 
+Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth 
+
+
+deceive, . 
+And that thou teachest how to make one 
+twain, 
+By praising him here who doth hence re- 
+main! ~ 
+
+
+XL. 
+
+
+Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all; 
+What hast thou then more than thou hadst 
+
+
+before >? 
+
+No love, my love, that thou mayst true loye 
+call; 
+
+All mine was thine before thou hadst this 
+more. 
+
+
+Then if for my love thou my love receivest, 
+I cannot blame thee for my love thou usest; 
+But yet be blamed, if thou thyself deceivest 
+By wilful taste of what thyself refusest, ¥ 
+I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief, Re. ¢ 
+Although thou steal thee all my poverty; 4 
+And yet, love knows, it is a greater grief 
+To bear love’s wrong than hate’s known in- 
+jury. 
+Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows, 
+Kill me with spites; yet we must not be foes. 
+
+
+« 
+
+
+XL. 
+
+
+Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits, 
+When I am sometime absent from thy heart, 
+Thy beauty and thy years full well befits, 
+For still temptation follows where thou art. 
+Gentle thou art and therefore to be won, 
+Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assailed; — 
+And when a woman woos, what woman's son | 
+Will sourly leave her till she have prevailed? 
+Ay me! but yet thou mightst my seat forbear, 
+And chide thy beauty and thy straying youth, 
+Who lead thee in their riot even there B 
+Where thou art forced to break a twofold truth, 
+Hers, by thy beauty tempting her to thee, 
+Thine, by thy beauty being false to me. 
+
+
+XL 
+
+
+That thou hast her, it is not all my grief, 
+And yet it may be said I loved her dearly; 
+That she hath thee, is of my wailing chief, 
+A loss in love that touches me more nearly, 
+Loving offenders, thus I will excuse ye: 
+Thou dost lave her, because thou know'’st 
+I love her; 
+
+
+Bx fares SONNETS 
+~ 5 <--> Spa ne tcnee e 
+
+
+‘And for my sake even so doth she abuse me, 
+Suffering my friend for my sake to approve 
+her. 
+If I lose thee, my loss is my love's ga'n, 
+And losing her, my friend hath found that 
+loss ; 
+Both find each other, and I lose both twain, 
+And both for my sake lay on me this cross: 
+But here ’s the joy; my friend and I are one; 
+Sweet flattery! then she loves but me alone. 
+
+
+XLII. 
+
+
+When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see, 
+For all the day they view things unrespected; 
+But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee, 
+And darkly bright are bright in dark directed. 
+Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make 
+bright, 
+How would thy shadow’s form form happy 
+show 
+To the clear day with thy much clearer light, 
+When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so! 
+How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made 
+By looking on thee in the living day, 
+When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade 
+Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth 
+stay! 
+All days are nights to see till I see thee, 
+And nights bright days when dreams do 
+
+
+show thee me. 
+
+
+XLIV. 
+
+
+If the dull substance of my flesh were thought, 
+_ Injurious distance should not stop my way; 
+For then despite of space I would be brought, 
+From limits far remote, where thou dost stay. 
+No matter then although my foot did stand 
+Upon the furthest earth removed from thee; 
+For nimble thought can jump both sea and 
+land 
+__ As soon as th'nk the place where he would be. 
+But, ah! thought kills me that I am not 
+thought, 
+_ To leap large lengths of miles when thou art 
+gone, 
+_ But that so much of earth and water wrought 
+I must attend time’s leisure with my moan, 
+Receiving nought by elements so slow 
+But heavy tears, badges of either’s woe. 
+
+
+XLV. 
+_ The other two, slight air and purging fie, 
+_ Are both with thee, wherever I abide; 
+The first my thought, the other my desire, 
+These present-absent with swift motion slide. 
+For when these quicker elements are gcne 
+tn tender embassv of love to thee, 
+
+
+1291 
+
+
+My life, being made of four, with two alone 
+Sinks down to death, oppress’d with melan- 
+choly ; 
+Until life’s composition be recured 
+By those swift messengers return’d from thee, 
+Who even but now come back again, assured 
+Of thy fair health, recounting it to me: 
+This told, I joy; but then no longer glad, 
+I send them back again and straight grow 
+sad, 
+
+
+XLVI. 
+
+
+Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war 
+
+How to divide the conquest of thy sight; 
+
+Mine eye my heart thy picture’s sight would 
+bar, 
+
+My heart mine eye the freedom of that right, 
+
+My heart doth plead that thou in him dost 
+lie,-— 
+
+
+‘A closet never pierced with crystal eyes— 
+
+
+But the defendant doth that plea deny 
+
+
+And says in him thy fair appearance lies. 
+
+
+To ‘cide this title is impanneled 
+A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart, 
+And by their verdict is determined 
+The clear eye’s moiety and the dear heart's 
+part: 
+As thus; mine eye’s due is thy outward part, 
+And my heart's right thy inward love of 
+heart. 
+
+
+XLVII. 
+
+
+Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took, 
+And each doth good turns now unto the other: 
+When that mine eye is famish'd for a look, 
+Or heart in love with sighs himself doth 
+smother, 
+With my love's picture ther my eye doth feast 
+And to the pa‘nted banquet bids my heart; 
+Another time mine eye is my heart's guest 
+And in his thoughts of love doth share a part: 
+So, either by thy picture or my love, 
+Thyself away art present still with me; 
+For thou not farther than my thoughts canst 
+move, 
+And I am still with them and they with thee; 
+Or, if they sleep, thy picture in my sight 
+Awakes my heart to heart’s and eye's de- 
+
+
+light. 
+
+
+XLVIII. 
+
+
+How careful was I, when I took my way, 
+
+Each trifle under truest bars to thrust, 
+
+That to my use it might unused stay 
+
+From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of 
+trust! 
+
+But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are, 
+
+Most worthy comfort, now my greatest grief, 
+
+Thou, best of dearest and mine only care, 
+
+
+| Art left the prey of every vulgar thief. 
+
+
+1292 
+
+
+SONNETS 
+
+
+Thee have I not lock’d up in any chest, 
+Save where thou art not, though I feel thou art, 
+Within the gentle closure of my breast, 
+From whence at pleasure thou mayst come 
+and part; 
+And even thence thou wilt be stol’n, I fear, 
+For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear. 
+
+
+XLIX. 
+
+
+Against that time, if ever that time come, 
+When I shall see thee frown on my defects, 
+When as thy love hath cast his utmost sum, 
+Call’d to that audit by advised respects; 
+Against that time when thou shalt strangely 
+pass 
+
+And scarcely greet me with that sun, thine eye, 
+When love, converted from the thing it was, 
+Shall reasons find of settled gravity,— 
+Against that time do I ensconce me here 
+Within the knowledge of mine own desert, 
+And this my hand against myself uprear, 
+To guard the lawful reasons on thy part: 
+
+To leave poor me thou hast the strength of 
+
+laws, ; 
+Since why to love I can allege no cause. 
+
+
+L. 
+
+
+How heavy do I journey on the way, 
+When what I seek, my weary travel’s end, 
+Doth teach that ease and that repose to say 
+‘Thus far the miles are measured from thy 
+friend!’ 
+‘The beast that bears me, tired with my woe, 
+Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me, 
+As if by some instinct the wretch did know 
+His rider loved not speed, being made from 
+thee: ’ 
+The bloody spur cannot provoke him on 
+That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide; 
+Which heavily he answers with a groan, 
+More sharp to me than spurring to his side; 
+For that same groan doth put this in my 
+mind; 
+My grief lies onward and my joy behind. 
+
+
+LI. 
+
+
+Thus can my love excuse the slow offence 
+
+Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed: 
+
+From where thou art why should | haste me 
+thence? 
+
+Till I return, of posting is no need. 
+
+O, what excuse will my poor beast then find, 
+
+When swift extremity can’seem but slow? 
+
+Then should I spur, though mounted on the 
+wind; 
+
+In winged speed no motion shall I know: 
+
+Then can no horse with my desire keep pace; 
+
+Therefore desire. of perfect’st love being 
+made. 
+
+
+Shall neigh—no dull flesh—in his fiery race; 
+
+But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade; 
+
+Since from thee going he went w.lful-slow, 
+
+Towards thee I'll run, and give him leave 
+to go. 
+
+
+Lil. 
+
+
+So am I as the rich, whose blessed key 
+Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure, 
+The which he will not every hour survey, 
+For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure. 
+Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare, 
+Since, seldom coming, in the long year set, 
+Like stones of worth they thinly placed are, 
+Or captain jewels in the carcanet. 
+So is the time:that keeps you as my chest, 
+Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide, 
+To make some special instant special blest, 
+By new unfolding his imprison’d pride. 
+Blessed are you, whose worthiness gives 
+scope, 
+Being had, to triumph, being lack’d, to 
+hope. 
+
+
+Lill. 
+
+
+What is your substance, whereof are you made, 
+
+That millions of strange shadows on you tend? 
+
+Since every one hath, every one, one shade, 
+
+And you, but one, can every shadow lend. 
+
+Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit 
+
+Is poorly imitated after you; 
+
+On Helen’s cheek all art of beauty set, 
+
+And you in Grecian tires are painted new: 
+
+Speak of the spring and foison of the year; 
+
+The one doth shadow of -your: beauty show, 
+
+The other as your bounty doth appear; 
+
+And you in every blessed shape we know. 
+In all external grace you have some part, 
+But you like none, none you, for constant 
+
+heart. 
+
+
+LIV. 
+
+
+O, how much more doth beauty beauteous 
+seem -é 
+By that sweet ornament which truth doth give 
+The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem 
+For that sweet odour which doth in it live. 
+The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye 
+As the perfumed tincture of the roses, 
+Hang on such thorns and play as wantonly 
+When summer's breath their masked buds. 
+discloses: 
+But, for their virtue only is their show, 
+They live unwoo'’d and unrespected fade, 
+Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so; 
+Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours — 
+made: , 
+And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth, ‘a 
+When that shall fade, my verse distills your — 
+truth, a 
+
+
+i ee ee ae 
+
+
+SONNETS 
+
+
+1293 
+
+
+LV. 
+
+
+Not marble, nor the gilded monuments 
+Of princes, shall outl.ve this powerful rhyme; 
+But you shall shine more bright in these con- 
+tents 
+Than unswept stone besmear’d with sluttish 
+time. 
+When wasteful war shall statues overturn, 
+And broils root out the work of masonry, 
+Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall 
+burn 
+The living record of your memory. 
+Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity 
+Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still 
+find room 
+Even in the eyes of all posterity 
+That wear this world out to the ending doom. 
+So, till the judgement that yourself arise, 
+You live in this, and dwell in lovers’ eyes. 
+
+
+LVI. 
+
+
+Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said 
+Thy edge should blunter be than appetite, 
+Which but to-day by feeding is allay'd, 
+To-morrow sharpen’d in his former might: 
+So, love, be thou; although to-day thou fil 
+Thy hungry eyes even till they wink with 
+ullness, 
+[o-morrow see again, and do not kill 
+he sprit of love with a perpetual dullness. 
+Let this sad interim like the ocean be 
+Which: parts the shore, where two contracted 
+new 
+Come daily to the banks, that, when they see 
+Return of love, more blest may be the view; 
+Else call it winter, which being full of care 
+Makes summer's welcome thrice more 
+wish'd, more rare. 
+
+
+LVII, 
+
+
+Being your sfave, what should I do but tend 
+Upon the hours and t mes of your desire? 
+I have no precious time at all to spend, 
+Nor services to do, till you require. 
+Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour 
+Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for 
+you, 
+Nor think the bitterness of absence sour 
+When you have bid your servant once adieu; 
+Nor dare I question with my jealous thought 
+here you may be, or your affairs suppose, 
+But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought 
+Save, where you are how happy you make 
+those. 
+So true a fool is love that in your wll, 
+Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill. 
+
+
+LVIIl. 
+That god forbid that made me first your slave, 
+I should in thought control your times of 
+pleasure, 
+Or at your hand the account of hours to crave, 
+Being your vassal, bound to stay your leisure! 
+O, let me suffer, being’ at your beck, 
+The imprison’d absence of your liberty; 
+And patience, tame to sufferance. bide each 
+check, 
+Without accus'ng you of injury. 
+Be where you list, your charter is so strong 
+That you yourself may privilege your time 
+To what you will; to you it doth belong 
+Yourself to pardon of self-doing crime. 
+I am to wait, though waiting so be hell; 
+Not blame your pleasure, be it ill or well. 
+
+
+LIx 
+
+
+If there be nothing new, but that which is 
+Hath been before, how are our brains be- 
+guiled, 
+Which, labouring for invention, bear amiss 
+The second burthen of a former child! 
+O, that record could with a backward look, 
+Even of five hundred courses of the sun, 
+Show me your image in some antique book, 
+Since mind at first in character was done! 
+That I might see what the old world could say 
+To this composed wonder of your frame; 
+Whether we are mended, or whether better 
+they, 
+Or whether revolution be the same. 
+O, sure I am, the wits of former days 
+To subjects worse have given admiring 
+
+
+praise. 
+LX 
+Like as the wayes make towards the pebbled 
+shore, 
+
+
+So do our minutes hasten to their end; 
+Each changing place with that which goes 
+before, 
+
+
+In sequent toil all forwards do contend. 
+Nativity, once in the main of light, 
+Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd, 
+Crooked eclipses ‘ga nst his glory fight, 
+And Time that gave doth now his gift con- 
+found. 
+Time doth transfx the flourish set on youth 
+And delves the parallels in beauty'’s brow, 
+Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, 
+And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow: 
+tAnd yet to times in hope my verse shall 
+stand, 
+Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand. 
+
+
+LXI. 
+
+
+Is it thy will thy image should keep open 
+My heavy eyelids to the weary night? 
+
+
+1294 
+
+
+SONNETS 
+
+
+Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken, 
+While shadows like to thee do mock my sight? 
+Is it thy spirit that thou send’st from thee 
+So far from home into my deeds to pry, 
+To find out shames and idle hours in me, 
+The scope and tenour of thy jealousy > 
+O, no! thy love, though much, is not so great: 
+It is my love that keeps mine eye awake; 
+Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat, 
+To play the watchman ever for thy sake: 
+For thee watch I whilst thou dost wake 
+elsewhere, 
+From me far off, with others all too near. 
+
+
+LXII. 
+
+
+Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye 
+And all my soul and all my every part; 
+And for this sin there is no remedy, 
+It is so grounded inward in my heart. 
+Methinks no face so gracious is as mine, 
+No shape so true, no truth.of such account; 
+And for myself mine own worth do define, 
+As I a!] other in all worths surmount. 
+But when my glass shows me myself indeed, 
+Beated and chopp'd with tann’d antiguity, 
+Mine own self-love quite contrary I read; 
+Self so self-loving were in quity. 
+"Tis thee, myself, that for myself I praise, 
+Painting my age with beauty of thy days. 
+
+
+LXIII, 
+
+
+Against my love shall be, as I am now, 
+With Time's injurious hand crush’d and o’er- 
+worn; 
+When hours have drain'd his blood and All’d 
+his brow 
+With lines and wrinkles; when his youthful 
+morn 
+Hath trave!l’d on to age’s steepy night, 
+And all those beaut'es whereof now he’s king 
+Are vanishing or vanish'd out of sight, 
+Stealing away the treasure of his spring; 
+For such a time do I now fortify 
+Against confounding age’s cruel knife, 
+That he shall never cut from memory 
+My sweet love’s beauty, though my lover's 
+life: 
+His beauty shall in these black lines be seen, 
+And they shall live, and he in them still 
+green. 
+LXIV. 
+
+
+When I have seen by T'me’s fell hand defaced 
+The rich proud cost of outworn buried age; 
+When sometime lofty towers I see down-razed 
+And brass eternal slave to mortal rage; 
+When I have seen the hungry ocean gain 
+Advantage on the kingdom of the shore, 
+And the firm soil-win of the watery main, 
+Increasing store with loss and loss with store; 
+
+
+When I have seen such interchange of state, 
+Or state itself confounded to decay; 
+Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate, 
+That Time will come and take my love away. 
+This thought is as a death, which cannot 
+choose 
+But weep to have that which it fears to lose. 
+
+
+LXV, 
+
+
+Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor bound- 
+less sea, 
+But sad mortality o’er-sways their power, 
+How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, 
+Whose action is no stronger than a flower? 
+O, how shall summer's honey breath hold out 
+Against the wreckful siege of battering days, 
+When rocks impregnable are not so stout, 
+Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays? 
+O fearful meditation! where, alack, ~ 
+Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest 
+lie hid? 
+Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot 
+back > 
+Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid? 
+O, none, unless this miracle have might, 
+That in black ink my love may still shine 
+bright. 
+
+
+LXVI. 
+
+
+Tired with all these, for restful death I cry, 
+
+As, to behold desert a beggar born, 
+
+And needy nothing trimm’d in jollity, 
+
+And purest faith unhappily forsworn, 
+
+And gilded honour shamefully misplaced, 
+
+And maiden yirtue rudely strumpeted, 
+
+And right perfection wrongfully disgraced, 
+
+And strength by limping sway disabled, 
+
+And art made tongue-tied by authority, 
+
+And folly doctor-like controlling skill, 
+
+And simple truth miscall’d simplicity, 
+
+And captive good attending captain ill: 
+Tired with all these, from these would I be 
+
+gone, 
+
+Save that, to die, I leave my love alone, 
+
+
+LXVII. 
+
+
+Ah! wherefore with infection should he live,, 
+And with h’s presence grace impiety, 
+
+That sin by him advantage should achieve — 
+And lace itself with his society? 
+
+
+| Why should false painting imitate his cheek _ 
+
+
+And steal dead seeing _of his living hue? 
+Why should poor beauty indirectly seek 
+Roses of shadow, since h’s rose is true? 
+Why should he live, now Nature bankrupt is, — 
+Beggar’d of blood to blush through lively — 
+veins > ig 
+For she hath no exchequer now but his, 
+And, proud of many, lives upon his gains, 
+
+
+SONNETS 
+
+
+©, him she stores, to show what wealth she 
+had 
+In days long since, before these last so bad. 
+
+
+LXVIIL. 
+
+
+Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn, 
+When beauty lived and died as flowers do 
+now, 
+
+Before these bastard signs of fair were born, 
+
+Or durst inhabit on a | ving brow; 
+
+Before the golden tresses of the dead, 
+
+The right of sepulchres, were shorn away, 
+
+To live a second life on second head; 
+
+Ere beauty’s dead fleece made another gay: 
+
+In him those holy antique hours are seen, 
+
+Without all ornament, itself and true, 
+
+Making no summer of another's green, 
+
+Robbing no old to dress his beauty new; 
+And him as for a map doth Nature store, 
+To show false Art what beauty was of yore. 
+
+
+LXIX. 
+
+
+Those parts of thee that the world’s eye doth 
+view 
+
+Want nothing that the thought of hearts can 
+mend; 
+
+All tongues, the voice of souls, give thee that 
+due, 
+
+Uttering bare truth, even so as foes commend. 
+
+Thy outward thus with outward praise is 
+
+' crown’d; 
+
+But those same tongues that give thee so thine 
+“own 
+
+In other accents do this praise confound 
+
+By seeing farther than the eye hath shown. 
+
+They look into the beauty of thy mind, 
+
+And that, in guess, they measure by thy deeds; 
+
+Then, churls, their thoughts, although their 
+eyes were kind, 
+
+To thy fair flower add the rank smell of 
+weeds: 
+
+But why thy odour matcheth not thy show, 
+The solve is this, that thou dost common 
+grow. 
+
+
+LXxX. 
+That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect, 
+
+
+For slander’s mark was ever yet the fair; 
+
+The ornament of beauty is suspect, 
+
+A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest a'r. 
+
+So thou be good, slander doth but approve 
+
+Thy worth the greater, being woo'd of time; 
+
+For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love, 
+
+And thou present’st a pure unstained prime. 
+
+Thou hast pass’d by the ambush of young 
+days, 
+
+Either not assail’d or victor being charged; 
+
+Yet this thy praise cannot be so thy praise, 
+
+To tie up envy evermore enlarged: 
+
+
+1295 
+If some suspect of ill mask’d not thy show, 
+hen thou alone kingdoms of hearts 
+shouldst owe. 
+LXXI. 
+
+
+No longer mourn for me when I am dead 
+Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell 
+Give warning to the world that I am fled 
+From this vile world, with vilest worms to — 
+dwell: 
+Nay, if you read this line, remember not 
+The hand that writ it; for I love you so 
+That I in your sweet thoughts would be for- 
+got 
+If thinking on me then should make you woe. 
+O, if I say, you look upon this verse 
+When I perhaps compounded am with clay, 
+Do not so much as my poor name rehearse, 
+But let your love even with my life decay, 
+Lest the wise world should look into your 
+moan 
+And mock you with me after I am gone. 
+
+
+LXXIl. 
+
+
+O, lest the world should task you to recite 
+What merit lived in me, that you should love 
+After my death, dear love, forget me quite, 
+For you in me can nothing worthy prove; 
+Unless you would devise some virtuous lie, 
+To do more for me than mine own desert, 
+And hang more praise upon deceased [| 
+Than niggard truth would willingly impart: 
+O, lest your true love may seem false in this, 
+That you for love speak well of me untrue, 
+My name be buried where my body is, 
+And live no more to shame nor me nor you. 
+For I am shamed by that which I bring 
+forth, 
+And so should you, to love things nothing 
+worth. 
+
+
+LXXIl, 
+
+
+That time of year thou mayst in me behold 
+When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang 
+Upon those boughs which shake against the 
+cold, 
+Bare ruin’d choirs, where late the sweet birds 
+sang. 
+In me thou see’st the twilight of such day 
+As after sunset fadeth in the west, 
+Which by and by black night doth take away, 
+Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. 
+In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire 
+That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, 
+As the death-bed whereon it must exp‘re 
+Consumed with that which it was nourish’d by. 
+This thou perceivest, which makes thy love 
+more strong, 
+To love that well which thou must leave ere 
+long. 
+
+
+1296 
+
+
+SONNETS 
+
+
+LXXIV, 
+
+
+But be contented: when that fell arrest 
+Without all bail shall carry me away, 
+My life hath in this line some interest, 
+Which for memorial still with thee shall stay. 
+When thou rev.ewest this, thou dost review 
+The very part was consecrate to thee: 
+The eae can have but earth, which is his 
+ue; 
+My spirit is thine, the better part of me: 
+So then thou hast but lost the dregs of life, 
+The prey of worms, my body being dead, 
+The coward conquest of a wretch’s knife, 
+Too base of thee to be remembered. 
+The worth of that is that which it contains, 
+And that is this, and this with thee re- 
+
+
+mains. 
+
+
+LXXV, 
+So are you to my thoughts as food to life, 
+Or as sweet-seasoned showers are to the 
+ground; 
+And for the peace of you I hold such strife 
+As ‘twixt a miser and his wealth is found; 
+Now proud as an enjoyer and anon 
+Doubting the filching age will steal his treas- 
+ure, 
+Now counting best to be with you alone, 
+Then better’d that the world may see my 
+pleasure; 
+Sometime all full with feasting on your sight 
+And by and by clean starved for a look ; 
+Possessing or pursuing no delight, 
+Save what is had or must from you be took. 
+Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day, 
+Or glutton'ng on all, or all away. 
+
+
+LXXVI. 
+
+
+Why is my verse so barren of new pride, 
+So far from variation or quick change ? 
+Why with the time do I not glance aside 
+To new-found methods and to compounds 
+strange? 
+Why write I still all one, ever the same, 
+And keep invention in a noted weed, 
+That every word doth almost tell my name, 
+Showing their birth and where they did pro- 
+ceed? 
+O, know, sweet love, I always write of you, 
+And you and love are still my argument; 
+So all my best is dress’ng old words new, 
+Spending again what is already spent: 
+For as the sun is daily new and old, 
+
+
+The vacant leaves thy mind's imprint will 
+bear, 
+
+And of this book th’s learning mayst thou 
+taste. 
+
+The wrinkles which thy glass will truly show 
+f mouthed graves will give thee memory; 
+Thou by thy dial’s shady stealth mayst know 
+
+Time's thievish progress to eternity. 
+
+Look, what thy memory can not contain 
+
+Commit to these waste blanks, and thou shalt 
+find 
+
+Those children nursed, deliver’d from thy 
+brain, 
+
+To take a new acquaintance of thy mind. 
+
+These offices, so oft as- thou wilt look, 
+
+
+Shall profit thee and much enrich thy book. 
+
+
+LXXVIII. 
+
+
+So oft I invoked thee for my Muse 
+
+And found such fair assistance in my verse 
+
+As every alien pen hath got my use 
+
+And under thee their poesy disperse. 
+
+Thine eyes that taught the dumb on high to 
+
+sing 
+
+And heavy ignorance aloft to fly 
+
+Have added feathers to the learned’s wing 
+
+And given grace a double majesty. 
+
+Yet be most proud of that which I compile, 
+
+Whose influence is thine and born of thee: 
+
+In others’ works thou dost but mend the style, 
+
+And arts with thy sweet graces graced be; 
+But thou art all my art and dost advance 
+As high as learning my rude ignorance. 
+
+
+LXXIX 
+Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid, 
+
+My verse alone had all thy gentle grace, 
+ut now my gracious numbers are decay'd 
+And my sick Muse doth give another place. 
+I grant, sweet love, thy lovely argument 
+
+Deserves the travail of a worthier pen, 
+Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent 
+He robs thee of and pays it thee again. 
+
+
+He lends thee virtue and he stole that word ~" 
+
+
+From thy behaviour; beauty doth he give 
+And found it in thy cheek; he can afford 
+No praise to thee but what in thee doth live. 
+Then thank him not for that which he doth 
+say, 
+Since what he owes thee thou thyself dost 
+pay. 
+LXXX. 
+O, how I faint when I of you do write, 
+
+
+; 
+
+
+So is my love still telling what is told. Knowing a better spirit doth use your name. 
+And in the praise thereof spends all his might. 
+LXXVII. To make me tongue-tied. speaking of your 
+Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties fame! 
+wear, | But since your worth, wide as the ocean i 
+
+
+Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste: | fhe humble as the proudest sail doth bear, 
+
+
+SONNETS 
+
+
+1297 
+
+
+My saucy bark inferior far to his 
+
+On your broad main doth wilfully appear. 
+
+Your shallowest help will hold me up afloat, 
+
+Whilst he upon your soundless deep doth 
+
+ride; 
+
+Or, being wreck'’d, I am a worthless boat, 
+
+He of tall building and of goodly pride: 
+Then if he thrive and I be cast away, 
+The worst was this; my love was my decay. 
+
+
+LXXXI. 
+
+
+Or I shall live your epitaph to make, 
+yx you survive when | in earth am rotten; 
+From hence your memory death cannot take, 
+Although in me each part will be forgotten. 
+Your name from hence immortal life shall 
+have, 
+peseh I, once gone, to all the world must 
+ie: 
+The earth can yield me but a common grave, 
+When you entombed in men’s eyes shall lie. 
+Your monument shall be my gentle verse, 
+Which eyes not yet created shall o’er-read, 
+And tongues to be your being shali rehearse 
+When all the breathers of this world are dead; 
+You still shall live—such virtue hath my 
+pen— 
+Where breath most breathes, even in the 
+mouths of men. 
+
+
+LXXXIl. 
+
+
+I grant thou wert not married to my Muse 
+And therefore mayst without attaint o’erlook 
+The ded'cated words which writers use 
+
+Of their fair subject, blessing every book. 
+Thou art as fair in knowledge as in-hue, 
+Finding thy worth a limit past my praise, 
+And therefore art enforced to seek anew 
+
+
+For I impair not beauty being mute, 
+When others would give life and bring a tomb. 
+There lives more life in one of your fair 
+eyes 
+Than both your poets can in praise devise. 
+
+
+LXXXIV. 
+
+
+Who is it that says most? which can say 
+more 
+Than this rich praise, that you alone are you? 
+In whose confine immured is the store 
+Which should example where your equal grew. 
+Lean penury within that pen doth dwell 
+That to his subject lends not some small 
+glory; 
+But he that writes of you, if he can tell 
+That you are you, so dignifies his story, 
+Let him but copy what in you is writ, 
+Not making worse what nature made so clear, 
+And such a counterpart shall fame his wit, 
+Making his style admired every where. 
+You to your beauteous blessings add a curse, 
+Being fond on praise, which makes your 
+praises worse. 
+
+
+LXXXV. 
+
+
+My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her 
+still, 
+
+While comments of your praise, richly com- 
+piled, 
+
+Reserve their character with golden quill 
+
+And precious phrase by all the Muses filed. 
+
+I think good thoughts whilst other write good 
+words, 
+
+And like unletter’d clerk still cry “Amen’ 
+
+To every hymn that able spirit affords 
+
+In polish’d form of well-refined pen. 
+
+Hearing you praised, I say ‘ "Tis so, ‘tis true,’ 
+
+
+Some fresher stamp of the time-bettering days. | And to the most of praise add something 
+
+
+And do so, love; yet when they have devised 
+What strained touches rhetoric can lend, 
+Thou truly fair wert truly sympathized 
+In true plain words by thy true telling friend; 
+And their gross painting might be better used 
+Where cheeks need blood; in thee it is 
+abused. 
+LXXXUI. 
+I never saw that you did painting need 
+And therefore to your fair no painting set; 
+I found, or thought I found, you did exceed 
+The barren tender of a poet's debt; 
+And therefore have I slept in your report, 
+That you yourself being extant well might 
+show 
+How far a modern quill doth come too short, 
+Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth 
+grow. 
+This silence for my sin you did impute, 
+Which shall be most my glory, being dumb; 
+
+
+more; 
+But that is in my thought, whose love to you. 
+Though words come hindmost, holds his rank 
+before. 
+Then others for the breath of words respect, 
+Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in 
+effect. 
+
+
+LXXXVI. 
+
+
+‘ 7 7 . 
+Was it the proud full sai! of his 2reat verse, 
+
+
+Bound for the prize of all too precious you, 
+
+That did my ripe thoughts in my brain in- 
+hearse, 
+
+Making their tomb the womb wherein they 
+grew? 
+
+Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write 
+
+Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead? 
+
+No, neither he, nor his compeers by night 
+
+Giving him aid. my verse astonished. 
+
+He, nor that affable familiar ghost 
+
+Which nightly gulls him with intelligence, 
+
+
+1298 
+
+
+SONNETS 
+
+
+As victors of my silence cannot boast; 
+
+I was not sick of any fear from thence: 
+But when your countenance fill’d up hss line, 
+Then lack’d I matter; that enfeebled mine. 
+
+
+LXXXVII. 
+
+
+Farewell! thou art too dear for my pos- 
+sessing, 
+And like enough thou know’st thy estimate: 
+The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; 
+My bonds in thee are all determinate. 
+For how do I hold thee but by thy granting? 
+And for that riches where is my deserving? 
+The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, 
+And so my patent back again is swerv ng. 
+Thyself thou gavest, thy own worth then not 
+knowing, 
+Or me, to whom thou gavest it, else mistaking ; 
+So thy great gift, upon misprision growing, 
+Comes home again, on better judgement 
+making. 
+Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth 
+flatter, 
+In sleep a king, but waking no such matter. 
+
+
+LXXXVIIL. 
+
+
+When thou shalt be disposed to set me light 
+And place my merit in the eye of scorn, 
+Upon thy side against myself I'll fight 
+
+And prove thee virtuous, though thou art for- 
+
+sworn. 
+
+With mine own weakness being best ac- 
+
+quainted, 
+
+Upon thy part I can set down a story 
+
+Of faults conceal’d, wherein I am attainted, 
+
+That thou in losing me shalt win much glory: 
+
+And I by this will be a gainer too; 
+
+For bending all my loving thoughts on thee, 
+€ injuries that to myself I do, 
+
+Doing thee vantage, double-vantage me. 
+Such is my love, to thee I so belong, 
+That for thy right myself will bear all 
+
+wrong, 
+
+
+LXXXIX, 
+
+
+Say that thou didst forsake me for some fauit, 
+And I will comment upon that offence; 
+Speak of my lameness, and | straight will halt, 
+Against thy reasons making no defence. 
+
+hou canst not, love, disgrace me half so ill, 
+To set a form upon desired change, 
+As I'll myself disgrace: knowing thy will, 
+I will acquaintance strangle and look strange, 
+Be absent from thy walks, and in my tongue 
+Thy sweet beloved name no more shall dwell, 
+Lest I, too much profane, should do it wrong 
+And haply of our old acquaintance tell. 
+
+For thee against myself I'll vow debate, 
+
+For I must ne'er love him whom thou dost 
+
+hate. 
+
+
+[Like a deceived husband: so love's face 
+
+
+xc, 
+
+
+Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now; 
+Now, while the world is bent my deeds to 
+cross, 
+Join with the spite of fortune, making me bow, 
+And do not drop in for an after-loss: 
+Ah, do not, when my heart hath ‘scaped this 
+sorrow, 
+Come in the rearward of a conquer'd woe; 
+Give not a windy night a rainy morrow, 
+To linger out a purposed overthrow. 
+If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last, 
+When other petty griefs have done their spite, 
+But in the onset come; so shall I taste 
+At first the very worst of fortune’s might, 
+And other stra’ns of woe, which now seem 
+Woe, 
+Compared with loss of thee will not seem so. 
+
+
+XC. 
+
+
+Some glory in their birth, some in their skill, 
+Some in their wealth, some in their bodies’ 
+force, 
+Some in their garments, though new-fangled 
+ill, 
+Some in their hawks and hounds, some in 
+their horse; 
+And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure, 
+Wherein it finds a joy above the rest: 
+But these particulars are not my measure; 
+All these I better in one general best. 
+Thy love is better than high birth to me, 
+Richer than wealth, prouder than garments’ 
+cost, 
+Of more delight than hawks or horses be; 
+And having thee, of all men’s pride I boast: 
+Wretched in this alone, that thou mays! 
+take 
+All this sway and me most wretched make, 
+
+
+XCIL. 
+
+
+But do thy worst to steal thyself away, 
+For term of life thou art assured mine, 
+And life no longer than thy love will stay, 
+For it depends upon that love of thine, 
+Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs, 
+When in the least of them my life hath end. 
+I see a better state to me belongs 
+Than that which on thy humour doth depend; 
+Thou canst not vex me with inconstant mind, 
+Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie. 
+O, what a happy title do I find, 
+Happy to have thy love, happy to die! 
+But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot? 
+Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not, 
+
+
+XCIll, 
+So shall I live, supposing thou art true, 
+
+
+SONNETS 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+1299 
+
+
+May still seem love to me, though alter'd 
+; new ; 
+
+“Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place: 
+For there can live no hatred in thine eye, 
+Therefore in that I cannot know thy change. 
+In many’s looks the false heart's history 
+Is writ in moods and frowns and wrinkles 
+
+strange, 
+Bui heaven ‘n thy creation did decree 
+That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell; 
+Whate’er thy thoughts or thy heart’s work- 
+ings be, 
+Thy looks should nothing thence but sweet- 
+ness tell. 
+How like Eve's apple doth thy beauty grow, 
+If thy sweet virtue answer not thy show! 
+
+
+XCIV. 
+
+
+They that have power to hurt and will do 
+none, 
+
+That do not do the thing they most do show, 
+Who, moving others, are themselves as stone, 
+Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow, 
+They rightly do inherit heaven’s graces 
+And husband nature’s riches from expense; 
+They are the lords and owners of their faces, 
+Others but stewards of their excellence. 
+The summer's flower is to the summer sweet, 
+Though to itself it only Jive and die, 
+But if that flower with base infection meet, 
+The basest weed outbraves his dignity: 
+
+For sweetest things turn sourest by their 
+
+deeds; 
+
+
+Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds. 
+
+
+XCV. 
+
+
+How sweet and lovely dost thou make the 
+
+
+shame 
+
+Which, like a canker in the fragrant rose, 
+Doth spot the beauty of thy budding name! 
+O, in what sweets doth thou thy sins enclose! 
+That tongue that tel!s the story of thy days, 
+Making lascivious comments on thy sport, 
+Cannot dispraise but in a kind of praise; 
+Naming thy name blesses an ill report. 
+O, what a mansion have those vices got 
+Which for their habitation chose out thee, 
+Where beauty’s veil doth cover every blot, 
+And all things turn to far that eyes can see! 
+
+ied heed, dear heart, of this large privi- 
+
+ege; 
+The hardest knife ill-used doth lose his 
+' edge. 
+XCVI. 
+
+
+Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness; 
+Some say thy grace is youth and gentle sport; 
+Both grace and faults are loved of more and 
+
+
+ess; 
+Thou makest faults graces that to thee resort. 
+
+
+As on the finger of a throned queen 
+The basest jewel will be well esteem’d, 
+So are those errors that in thee are seen 
+To truths translated and for true 
+deem'd. 
+How many lambs might the stern wolf betray, 
+If like a lamb he could his looks translate! 
+How many gazers mightst thou lead away, 
+If thou wouldst use the strength of all thy 
+state! 
+But do not so; I love thee in such sort 
+As, thou beg mine, mine is thy good 
+report. 
+
+
+things 
+
+
+XCVU. 
+
+
+How like a winter hath my absence been 
+From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! 
+What freezings have I felt, what dark days 
+seen! 
+What old December’s bareness every where! 
+And yet this time removed was summer's 
+time, 
+The teeming autumn, big with rich increase, 
+Bearing the wanton burthen of the prime, 
+Like widow’d wombs after their lords’ de- 
+cease: 
+Yet this abundant issue seem’d to me 
+But hope of orphans and unfather’d fruit; 
+For summer and his pleasures wait on thee, 
+And, thou away, the very birds are mute; 
+Or, if they sing, ‘tis with so dull a cheer 
+That leaves look pale, dreading the winter’s 
+near. 
+
+
+XCVUI. 
+From you have I been absent in the spring, 
+
+
+When proud-pied April dress’d in all his trim 
+Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing, 
+TRB Faye Saturn laugh’d and !eap’d with 
+im. 
+Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smell 
+Of different flowers in odour and in hue 
+Could make me any summer’s story tell, 
+Or from their proud lap pluck them where 
+they grew; 
+Nor did I wonder at the lily’s white, 
+Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose; 
+They were but sweet, but figures of delight, 
+Drawn after you, you pattern of all those. 
+Yet seem’d it winter still, and, you away, 
+As with your shadow I with these did play: 
+
+
+XCIX 
+
+
+The forward v'olet thus did I chide: 
+
+Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet 
+that smells, 
+
+If not from my love’s breath? 
+pride 
+
+Which on thy soft cheek for complexion 
+dwells 
+
+
+The purple 
+
+
+1300 
+
+
+In my love’s veins thou hast too grossly dyed. 
+
+The lily I condemned for thy hand, 
+
+And buds of marjoram had stol’n thy hair: 
+
+The roses fearfully on thorns did stand, 
+
+One blushing shame, another white despair; 
+
+A third, nor red nor white, had stol’n of 
+
+both 
+
+And to his robbery had annex’d thy breath; 
+
+But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth 
+
+A vengeful canker eat him up to death. 
+More flowers | noted, yet I none could see 
+But sweet or colour ithad stol’n from thee. 
+
+
+Cc. 
+
+Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget’st so 
+long 
+
+To speak of that which gives thee all thy 
+might? 
+
+Spend’st thou thy fury on some worthless 
+song, 
+
+Darkening thy power to lend base subjects 
+light ? 
+
+
+Return, forgetful Muse, and straight redeem 
+In gentle numbers time so idly spent; 
+Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem 
+And gives thy pen both skill and argument. 
+Rise, resty Muse, my love's sweet face survey, 
+If Time have any wrinkle graven there; 
+If any, be a satire to decay, 
+And make Time’s spoils despised every where. 
+Give my love fame faster than Time wastes 
+life; 
+So thou prevent’st his scythe and crooked 
+knife. 
+
+
+Cie 
+
+
+O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends 
+For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed? 
+Both truth and beauty on my love depends; 
+So dost thou too, and therein dignified. 
+Make answer, Muse: wilt thou not haply say 
+‘Truth needs no colour, with his colour fix'd; 
+Beauty no pencil, beauty’s truth to lay; 
+But best is best, if never intermix'd? 
+Because he needs no praise, wilt thou be 
+dumb ? 
+Excuse not s'lence so; for 't lies in thee 
+To make him much outlive a gilded tomb, 
+And to be praised. of ages yet to be. 
+Then do thy office, Muse; I teach thee how 
+To make him seem long hence as he shows 
+now. 
+
+
+cl, 
+My love is strengthen’d, thougk nore weak 
+Vien seeming; 
+I love not less, though less the show appear: 
+That love is merchandized whose rich es- 
+teeming 
+he owner's tongue doth publish every where. ! 
+
+
+SONNETS 
+
+
+Our love was new and then but in the spring 
+When I was wont to greet it with my lays, 
+As Philomel in summer's front doth sing 
+And stops her p’pe in growth of riper days: 
+Not that the summer is less pleasant now 
+Than when her mournful hymns did hush the 
+night, 
+But that wild music burthens every bough 
+And sweets grown common lose their dear 
+delight. 
+Therefore like her I sometime hold my 
+tongue, 
+Because I would not dull you with my song. 
+
+
+Cill, 
+Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth, 
+That having such a scope to show her pride, 
+The argument all bare is of more worth 
+Than when it hath my added praise beside! 
+O, blame me not, if I no more can write! 
+Look in your glass, and there appears a face 
+That over-goes my blunt invention quite, 
+Dulling my lines and doing me disgrace. 
+Were it not sinful then, striving to mend, 
+To mar the subject that before was well? 
+For to no other pass my verses tend 
+Than of your graces and your gifts to tell; 
+And more, much more, than in my verse 
+can sit 
+Your own glass shows you when you look 
+in tt, 
+
+
+CIV, 
+
+
+To me, fair friend, you never can be old, 
+For as you were when first your eye I eyed, 
+
+
+Such seems your beauty still. Three win- 
+ters cold 
+
+Have from the forests shook three summers’ 
+pride, 
+
+Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn 
+turn’c 
+
+
+iIn process of the seasons have I seen, 
+
+
+Three April perfumes in three hot Junes 
+burn'd, 
+Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are 
+green. 
+Ah! yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand, 
+Steal from his figure and no pace perceived; 
+So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth 
+stand, 
+Hath motion and mine eye may be deceived: 
+For fear of which, hear this, thou age 
+unhred; 
+Ere you were bora was beauty’s summer 
+dead. 
+
+
+cv. 
+
+
+Let aot my love be call'd idolatry, 
+Nor my beloved as an idol show, 
+
+
+Met igh attrition cate 
+
+
+ees eC lL CCl er Ohl r,t CTC ee 
+
+
+« 
+
+
+1 ~ 
+
+
+SONNETS 
+
+
+Since all alike my songs and praises be 
+To one, of one, still such, and ever so. 
+Kind is my love to-day, to-morrow kind, 
+Still constant in a wondrous excellence; 
+Therefore my verse to constancy confined, 
+One thing expressing, leaves out difference. 
+‘Fair, kind, and true’ is all my argument, 
+Fair, kind, and true’ varying to other words; 
+And in this change is my invention spent, 
+Three themes in one, which wondrous scope 
+affords. 
+‘Fair, kind, and true,’ have often lived 
+alone, 
+Which three til] now never kept seat in one. 
+
+
+CVI. 
+
+
+When in the chronicle of wasted time 
+{ see descriptions of the fairest wights, 
+And beauty making beautiful old rhyme 
+In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights, 
+Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty’s best, 
+Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, 
+1 see their antique pen would have express'd 
+Even such a beauty as you master now. 
+So all their praises are but prophecies 
+Of this our time, all you prefiguring; 
+And, for they look’d but with divining eyes, 
+They had not skill enough your worth to sing: 
+For we, which now behold these present 
+days, 
+Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to 
+praise. 
+
+
+CVIL. 
+
+
+Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul 
+Of the wide world dreaming on things to come, 
+Can yet the lease of my true love control, 
+Supposed as forfeit to a confined doom. 
+The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured 
+And the sad augurs mock their own presage; 
+Incertainties now crown themselves assured 
+And peace proclaims olives of endless age. 
+Now with the drops of this most balmy time 
+My love looks fresh, and Death to me sub- 
+scribes, 
+
+Since, spite of him, I'll live in this poor 
+
+rhyme, 
+
+While he insults o’er dull and speechless tribes: 
+And thou in th’s shalt find thy monument, 
+When tyrants’ crests and tombs of brass 
+
+are spent. 
+
+
+CVII. 
+
+
+What's in the brain that ink may character 
+
+Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit? 
+
+What's new to speak, what new to register, 
+
+That may express my love or thy dear merit? 
+
+Nothing, sweet boy; but yet, like prayers 
+divine, 
+
+I must each day say o'er the very same, 
+
+
+1301 
+
+
+Counting no old thing o!d, thou mine, I thine, 
+Even as when first I hallow'd thy fair name. 
+So that eternal love in love's fresh case 
+Weighs not the dust and injury of age, 
+
+Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place, 
+
+But makes antiquity for aye his page, 
+Finding the first conceit of love there bred 
+Where time and outward form would show 
+
+it dead. 
+
+
+CIxX, 
+
+
+O, never say that I was false ef heart, 
+Though absence seem’d my flame to qualify. 
+As easy might I from myself depart 
+As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie; 
+That is my home of love: if I have ranged, 
+Like him that travels I return again, 
+Just to the time, not with the time exchanged, 
+So that myself bring water for my stain. 
+Never believe, though in my nature reign’d 
+All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood, 
+That it could so preposterously be stain’d, 
+To leave for nothing all thy sum of good; 
+For nothing this wide universe | call, 
+Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my all. 
+
+
+CX, 
+
+
+Alas, ‘tis true I have gone here and there 
+And-made myself a motley to the view, 
+Gored mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is 
+most dear, 
+Made old offences of affections new; 
+Most true it is that I have look’d on truth 
+Askance and strangely: but, by all above, 
+These blenches gave my heart another youth, 
+And worse essays proved thee my best of love. 
+Now all is done, have what shall have no end: 
+Mine appetite I never more will grind 
+On newer proof, to try an oider friend, 
+A god in love, to whom | am confined. 
+Then give me welcome, next my heaven the 
+best, 
+Even to thy pure and most most loving 
+breast. 
+
+
+CX. 
+
+
+O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, 
+
+The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, 
+
+That did not better for my life provide 
+
+Than public means which public manners 
+breeds. 
+
+Thence comes it that my name receives a 
+brand, 
+
+And almost thence my nature is subdued 
+
+To what it works in, like the dyer’s hand: 
+
+Pity me then and wish I were renew'd; 
+
+Whilst, like a willing patient, I will drink 
+
+Potions of eisel ’gainst my strong infection; 
+
+
+|No bitterness that I will bitter think, 
+
+
+{302 
+
+
+SONNETS 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+Nor double penance, to correct correction. 
+Pity me then, dear friend, and I assure ye 
+Even that your pity is enough to cure me. 
+
+
+CXIl, 
+
+
+Your love and pity doth the impression fill 
+Which vulgar scandal stamp'd upon my brow; 
+For what care I who calls me well or ill, 
+
+So you o’er-green my bad, my good allow? 
+
+You are my all the world, and I must strive 
+
+To know my shames and praises from your 
+
+tongue; 
+
+None else to me, nor I to none alive, 
+
+That my steel’d sense or changes right or 
+
+wrong. 
+
+In so profound abysm I throw all care 
+
+Of others’ voices, that my adder’s sense 
+
+To critic and to flatterer stopped are. 
+
+Mark how with my neglect I do dispense: 
+You are so strongly in my purpose bred 
+That all the world besides methinks are 
+
+dead, 
+CXIil. 
+
+Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind; 
+
+And that which governs me to go about 
+
+Doth part his function and is partly blind, 
+
+Seems seeing, but effectually is out; 
+
+For it no form delivers to the heart 
+
+Of bird, of fiower, or shape, which it. doth 
+
+latch: 
+
+Of his quick objects hath the mind no part, 
+
+Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch; 
+
+For if it see the rudest or gentlest sight, 
+
+The most sweet favour or deformed’st crea- 
+
+ture, 
+
+The mountain or the sea, the day or night, 
+
+The crow or dove, it shapes them to your 
+
+feature: 
+Incapable of more, replete with you, 
+My most true mind thus makes m‘ne eye 
+
+
+untrue. 
+CXIV. 
+Or whether doth my mind, being crown'd 
+with you, 
+
+
+Drink up the monarch’s plague, this flattery ? 
+Or whether shall I say, mine eye saith true, 
+And that your love taught it this alchemy, 
+To make of monsters and things indigest 
+Such cherubins as your sweet self resemble, 
+Creat'ng every bad a perfect best, 
+As fast as objects to his beams assemble? 
+O, ‘tis the first; "tis flattery in my seeing, 
+And my great mind most kingly drinks it up: 
+Mine eye well knows what with his gust is 
+"greeing, 
+
+4nd to his palate doth prepare the cup: 
+
+If it be poison’d, ‘tis the lesser sin 
+
+That mine eye loves it and doth first begin. 
+
+
+CXV. 
+Those lines that I before have writ de he, 
+Even those that said I could not love you 
+dearer: 
+Yet then my judgement knew no reason why 
+My most full flame should afterwards burn 
+clearer. 
+But reckoning time, whose million’d accidents 
+Creep in ‘twixt vows and change decrees of 
+kings, 
+Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp’st intents, 
+Divert strong minds to the course of altering 
+things; 
+Alas, why, fearing of time's tyranny, 
+M ght I not then say ‘Now I love you best,’ 
+When I was certain o'er incertainty, 
+Crowning the present, doubting of the rest? 
+Love is a babe; then might I not say so, 
+To give full growth to that which still doth 
+grow >? 
+
+
+CXVI. 
+
+
+Let me not to the marriage of true minds 
+Admit impediments. Love is not love 
+Which alters when it alteration finds, 
+Or bends with the remover to remove: 
+O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark 
+That looks on tempests and is never shaken; 
+It is the star to every wandering bark, 
+Whose worth’s unknown, although his height 
+be taken. 
+Love's not Time's fool, 
+cheeks 
+Within his bending sickle’s compass come; 
+Love alters not with his brief hours and 
+weeks, 
+But bears it out even to the edge of doom. 
+If this be error and upon me proved, 
+I never writ, nor no man ever loved. 
+
+
+though rosy lips and 
+
+
+CXVII. 
+
+
+Accuse me thus: that I have scanted all 
+Wherein I should your great deserts repay, 
+Forgot upon your dearest love to call, 
+Whereto all bonds do tie me day by day; 
+That I have frequent been w.th unknown 
+minds 
+And given to time your own dear-purchased 
+right; 
+That I have hoisted sail to all the winds 
+Which should transport me farthest from 
+your sight, 
+Book both my wilfulness and errors down 
+And on just proof surmise accumulate; 
+Bring me within the level of your frown, 
+But shoot not at me in your waken'd hate; 
+Since my appeal says I did strive to prove 
+The constancy and virtue of your love, 
+
+
+' 
+
+
+7 
+
+
+See oe 
+
+
+CXVII, 
+
+
+Like as, to make our appet'tes mure keen, 
+
+With eager compounds we our palate urge, 
+
+Ass, to prevent our maladies unseen, 
+
+We sicken to shun sickness when we purge, 
+
+Even so, being full of your ne'er-cloying 
+sweetness, 
+
+To bitter sauces did I frame my feeding 
+
+And, sick of welfare, found a kind of meet- 
+ness 
+
+To be diseased ere that there was true needing. 
+
+Thus policy in love, to anticipate 
+
+The ills that were not, grew to fanlts assured 
+
+And brought to medicine a healthful state 
+
+Which, rank of goodness, would by ill be 
+cured: 
+
+But thence | learn, and find the lesson true, 
+
+Drugs poison him that so fell sick of you, 
+
+
+CXIX,. 
+
+
+‘What potions have I drunk of Siren tears, 
+Distill’'d from limbecks foul as hell within, 
+Applying fears to hopes and hopes to fears, 
+Sull losing when I saw myself to win! 
+What wretched errors hath my heart com- 
+mitted, 
+Whilst it hath thought ‘tself so blessed never! 
+How have mine eyes out of their spheres been 
+fitted 
+In the distraction of this madding fever! 
+O benefit of ill! now I find true 
+That better is by evil still made better; 
+And ruin’d love, when it is built anew, 
+Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far 
+* «greater. 
+So I return rebuked to my content 
+And gain by ill thrice more than ! have 
+spent, 
+
+
+CXX, 
+That you were once unk nd befriends me now, 
+And for that sorrow which I then did feel 
+Needs must I under my transgression bow, 
+Unless my nerves were: brass or hammer'd 
+steel. 
+For if you were by my unkindness shaken 
+As I by yours, you ‘ve pass'd a hell of time, 
+And I, a tyrant, have no leisure taken 
+To weigh how once I suffer’d in your crime. 
+O, that our night of woe might have re- 
+member’d 
+My deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits, 
+And soon to you, as you to me, then tender’d 
+The humble salve which wounded bosoms fits! 
+But that your trespass now becomes a fee; 
+Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ran- 
+som me. 
+
+
+SONNETS 
+
+
+1303 
+
+
+CXXI, 
+
+
+‘Tis better to be vile than vile esteem'd, 
+When not to be receives reproach of being, 
+And the just pleasure lost which is so deem'd 
+Not by our feeling but by others’ seeing: 
+For why should others’ false adulterate eyes 
+Give salutation to my sportive blood? 
+Or on my frailties why are frailer spies, 
+Which in their wills count bad what I think 
+good > 
+No, I am that [ am, and they that level 
+At my abuses reckon up their own: 
+I may be straight, though they themselves be 
+bevel; 
+By their rank thoughts my deeds must not be 
+shown; 
+Unless this general evil they maintain, 
+All men are bad, and in their badness reign. 
+
+
+CXXIL, 
+
+
+Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain 
+
+Full character’d with lasting memory, 
+
+Which shall above that idle rank remain 
+
+Beyond all date, even to eternity; 
+
+Or at the least, so long as brain and heart 
+
+Have faculty by nature to subsist; 
+
+Till each to razed oblivion yield his part 
+
+Of thee, thy record never can be miss’d. 
+
+That poor retention could not so much hold, 
+
+Nor need I tallies thy dear love to score; 
+
+Therefore to give them from me was I bold, 
+
+To trust those tables that receive thee more: 
+To keep an adjunct to remember thee 
+Were to import forgetfulness in me. 
+
+
+CXXIIL 
+
+
+No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do 
+change: 
+Thy pyramids built up with newer might 
+To me are nothing novel, nothing strange; 
+They are but dressings of a former sight. 
+Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire 
+What thou dost foist upon us that is old, 
+And rather make them born to our desire 
+Than think that we before have heard them 
+told. 
+Thy registers and thee I both defy, 
+Not wondering at the present nor the past, 
+For thy records and what we see doth lie, 
+Made more or less by thy continual haste. 
+This I do vow and this shal! ever be; 
+I will be true, despite thy scythe and thee. 
+
+
+CXXIV. 
+
+
+If my dear love were buat the child of state, 
+
+It might for Fortune's bastard be unfather'd, 
+
+As subject to Time’s love or to Time's hate. 
+
+Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers 
+gather'd. 
+
+
+1304 
+
+
+SONNETS 
+
+
+No, it was builded far from accident; 
+It suffers not in smil ng pomp, nor falls 
+Under the blow of thralled discontent, 
+Whereto the inviting time our fashion calls: 
+It fears not policy, that heretic, 
+Which works on leases of short-number’d 
+hours, 
+But all alone stands hugely politic, 
+That it nor grows with heat nor drowns with 
+showers. 
+To this I witness call the fools of time, 
+Wh'ch die for goodness, who have lived 
+
+
+for crime. 
+
+
+CXXV. 
+
+
+Were 't aught to me I bore the canopy, 
+With my extern the outward honouring, 
+Or laid great bases for eternity, 
+Which prove more short than waste 
+ruining ? 
+Have I not seen dwellers on form and favour 
+Lose all, and more, by paying too much rent, 
+For compound sweet forgoing simple savour, 
+Pitiful thrivers, in their gazing spent? 
+No, let me be obsequious in thy heart, 
+And take thou my oblation, poor but free, 
+Which is not mix'd with seconds, knows no art, 
+But mutual render, only me for thee. 
+Hence, thou suborn'd informer; a true soul 
+When most impeach’d stands least in thy 
+control. 
+
+
+or 
+
+
+CXXVI. 
+
+
+O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power 
+
+Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle, hour; 
+
+Who hast by waning grown, and _ therein 
+show’st 
+
+Thy lovers withering as thy sweet self grow’st; 
+
+If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack, 
+
+As thou goest onwards, still will pluck thee 
+back, 
+
+She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill 
+
+May time disgrace and wretched minutes kill. 
+
+Yet fear her, O thou minion of her pleasure! 
+
+She may detain, but not still keep, her treas- 
+ure: 
+
+Her audit, though delay’d, answer’d must be, 
+
+nd her quietus is to render thee. 
+
+
+CXXVII. 
+
+
+In the old age black was not counted fair, 
+
+Or if it were, it bore not beauty’s name; 
+
+But now is black beauty's successive heir, 
+
+And beauty slander’d with a bastard shame: 
+
+For since each hand hath put on nature's 
+power, 
+
+Fairing the foul with art's false borrow'd 
+face, 
+
+
+Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy bower, 
+But is profaned, if not lives in disgrace. 
+Therefore my mistress’ brows are raven black, 
+Her eyes so suited, and they mourners seem 
+At such who, not born fair, no beauty lack, 
+Slandering creation with a false esteem: 
+
+Yet so they mourn, becoming of their woe, 
+
+That every tongue says beauty should look 
+
+so. 
+
+
+CXXVIIL. 
+
+
+How oft, when thou, my music, music play’st, 
+Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds 
+With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently 
+sway'st 
+
+The wiry concord that mine ear confounds, 
+Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap 
+
+To kiss the tender inward of thy hand, 
+
+Wh Ist my poor lips, which should that har- 
+
+
+vest reap, 
+At the wood’s boldness by thee blushing 
+stand! 
+To be so tickled, they would change their 
+state 
+
+
+And situation with those dancing chips, 
+
+O’er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait, 
+
+Making dead wood more blest than living lips. 
+Since saucy jacks so happy are in this, 
+Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss. 
+
+
+CXXIX. 
+The expense of sprit in a waste of shame 
+Is lust in action; and till action, lust 
+Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame, 
+Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust, 
+Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight, 
+Past reason hunted, and no sooner had 
+Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait 
+On purpose laid to make the taker mad; 
+Mad in pursuit and in possession so; 
+Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme; 
+A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe; 
+Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream. 
+All this the world well knows; yet none 
+knows well 
+To shun the heaven that leads men to this 
+hell. 
+
+
+CXXX. 
+
+
+My mistress’ eyes are noth'ng like the sun; 
+
+Coral is far more red than her lips’ red; 
+
+If tie be white, why then her breasts are 
+
+un; 
+
+If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her 
+head. 
+
+I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, 
+
+But no such roses see I in her cheeks; 
+
+And in some perfumes is there more delight 
+
+Than in the breath that from my mistress 
+reeks. 
+
+
+sae ee ee 
+
+
+a_i 
+
+
+SONNETS 
+
+
+1305 
+
+
+I love to hear her speak, yet well I know 
+That music hath a far more pleasing sound; 
+I grant I never saw a goddess go; 
+My mistress, when she walks, treads on’ the 
+ground: 
+And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare 
+As any she belied with false compare. 
+
+
+CXXXI. 
+
+
+Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art, 
+
+As those whose beauties proudly make them 
+cruel; 
+
+For well thou know’st to my dear doting heart 
+
+Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel. 
+
+Yet, in good faith, some say that thee behold 
+
+Thy face hath not the power to make love 
+groan: 
+
+To say they err I dare not be so bold, 
+
+Although I swear it to myself alone. 
+
+And, to be sure that is not false I swear, 
+
+
+- A thousand groans, but thinking on thy face, 
+
+
+One on another's neck, do witness bear 
+
+Thy black is fairest in my judgement’s place. 
+In nothing art thou black save in thy deeds, 
+And thence this slander, as I think, proceeds. 
+
+
+CXXXII. 
+
+Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me, 
+Knowing thy heart torments me with disdain, 
+Have put on black and loving mourners be, 
+Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain. 
+And truly not the morning sun of heaven 
+Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east, 
+Nor that full star that ushers in the even 
+Doth half that glory to the sober west, 
+As those two mourning eyes become thy face: 
+O, let it then as well beseem thy heart 
+To mourn for me, since mourning doth thee 
+
+grace, 
+And suit thy pity like in every part. 
+
+hen wll I swear beauty herself is black 
+
+And all they foul that thy complexion lack. 
+
+
+CXXXIII. 
+
+
+Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to 
+groan 
+
+For that deep wound it gives my friend and 
+me! 
+
+Is't not enough to torture me alone, 
+
+But “ies to slavery my sweet’st friend must 
+
+e> 
+
+Me from myself thy cruel eye hath taken, 
+
+And my next self thou harder hast engross’d: 
+
+Of him, myself, and thee, I am forsaken; 
+
+A torment thrice threefold thus to be cross’d. 
+
+Prison my heart in thy steel bosom’s ward, 
+
+
+But then my friend's heart let my poor heart 
+bail; 
+
+
+Whoe'’er keeps me, let my heart be his guard; 
+
+Thou canst not then use rigour in my gaol: 
+And yet thou wilt; for I, being pent in thee, 
+Perforce am thine, and all that is in re. 
+
+
+CXXXIV. 
+
+
+So, now I have confess’d that he is thine, 
+And I myself am mortgaged to thy will, 
+Myself I'll forfeit, so that other mine 
+Thou wilt restore, to be my comfort still: 
+But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free, 
+For thou art covetous and he is kind; 
+He learn’d but surety-like to write for me 
+Under that bord that him as fast doth bind. 
+The statute of thy beauty thou wilt take, 
+Thou usurer, that put’st forth all to use, 
+And sue a friend came debtor for my sake; 
+So him I lose through my unkind abuse. 
+Him have I lost; thou hast both him and 
+
+
+me: 
+He pays the whole, and yet am I not free. 
+
+
+CXXXV. 
+
+
+Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy “Will,” 
+And ‘Will’ to boot, and “Will’ in overplus; 
+More than enough am I that vex thee still, 
+To thy sweet will making addition thus. 
+Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious, 
+Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine? 
+Shall will in others seem right gracious, 
+And in my will no fair acceptance shine? 
+The sea, all water, yet receives rain still 
+And in abundance addeth to his store; 
+So thou, being rich in “Will, add to thy ‘Will’ 
+One will of mine, to make thy large ‘Will’ 
+more. 
+Let no unkind, no fair beseechers kill; 
+Think all but one, and me in that one 
+
+
+‘Will.’ 
+
+
+CXXXVI, 
+
+
+If thy soul check thee that I come so near, 
+Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy “Will,” 
+And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there; 
+Thus far for love my love-suit, sweet, fulfil. 
+‘Will’ will fulfil the treasure of thy love, 
+Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one. 
+In things of great rece pt with ease we prove 
+Among a number one is reckon'd none: 
+Then in the number let me pass unto'd, 
+Though in thy stores’ account I one must he; 
+For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold 
+That nothing me, a something sweet to thee: 
+
+Make but my name thy love, and love: that 
+
+still, 
+And then thou lovest me, for my name is 
+
+
+Will.’ 
+
+
+1306 
+
+
+SONNETS 
+
+
+_—_—_:??  nhkeee=@S eee—_eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eee 
+
+
+CXXXVIIL 
+Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to 
+
+
+mine eyes, 
+That they behold, and see not what they see? 
+They know what beauty is, see where it lies, 
+Yet what the best is take the worst to be. 
+If eyes corrupt by over-partial looks 
+Be anchor'd in the bay where all men ride, 
+Why of eyes’ falsehood hast thou forged hooks, 
+Whereto the judgement of my heart is tied? 
+Why should my heart think that a several plot 
+Which my heart knows the wide world's 
+common place? 
+Or mine eyes seeing this, say this is not, 
+To put fair truth upon so foul a face? 
+In things right true my heart and eyes have 
+err'd, 
+And to this false plague are they now 
+transferr'd. 
+
+
+CXXXVIII. 
+
+
+When my love swears that she is made of 
+truth 
+
+I do believe her, though I know she lies, 
+
+That she might think me some untutor'd 
+youth, 
+
+Unlearned in the world’s false subtleties. 
+
+
+Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me 
+young, 
+
+Although she knows my days are past the 
+best, 
+
+
+Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue: 
+On both sides thus is simple truth suppress'd. 
+But wherefore says she not she is unjust? 
+And wherefore say not I that I am old? 
+
+O, love's best habit is in seeming trust, 
+And age in love loves not to have years told: 
+Therefore I lie with her and she with me, 
+And in our faults by lies we flatter’d be. 
+
+
+CXXXIX, 
+
+
+O, call not me to just’fy the wrong 
+
+That thy unkindness lays upon my heart; 
+
+Wound me not with thine eye but with thy 
+tongue; 
+
+Use power with power and slay me not by art. 
+
+Tell me thou lovest elsewhere, but in my 
+sight, 
+
+Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside: 
+
+What need'st thou wound with cunning when 
+thy might 
+
+Is more than my o’er-press'd defence can 
+bide? 
+
+Let me excuse thee: ah! my love well knows 
+
+Her. pretty looks have been mine. enemies, 
+
+And therefore from my face she turns my 
+foes, 
+
+That they elsewhere might dart their injuries: 
+
+
+Yet do not so; but since I am near slain, 
+Kill me outright with looks and rid my 
+pain. 
+
+
+CXL. 
+
+
+Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press 
+My tongue-tied patience with too much dis- 
+dain; 
+Lest sorrow lend me words and words express 
+The manner of my pity-wanting pain. 
+If I might teach thee wit, better it were, 
+Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me so; 
+As testy sck men, when their deaths be near, 
+No news but health from their physicians 
+know; ‘ 
+For if I should despair, I should grow mad, 
+And in my madness might speak ill of thee: 
+Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad, 
+Mad slanderers by mad ears believed be. 
+That I may not be so, nor thou belied, 
+Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud 
+heart go wide. 
+
+
+CXLI. 
+
+
+In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes, 
+For they in thee a thousand errors note; 
+But ‘tis my heart that loves what they despise, 
+Who in despite of view is pleased to dote; 
+Nor are mine ears with thy tongue’s tune 
+delighted, 
+Nor tender feeling,\to base touches prone, 
+Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited 
+To any sensual feast with thee alone: 
+But my five wits nor my five senses can 
+Dissuade one, foolish heart from serving thee, 
+Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man, 
+Thy fpyud heart's slave and vassal wretch to 
+e: 
+Only my plague thus far I count my gain, 
+That she that makes me sin awards me 
+pain. : 
+CXLIL. 
+
+
+Love is my sin and thy dear virtue hate, -« 
+Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving: 
+O, but with mine compare thou thine own 
+state, 
+And thou shalt find it merits not reproying; 
+Or, if it do, not from those lips of thine, 
+That have profaned their scarlet ornaments 
+And seal'd false bonds of love as oft as mine, 
+Robb'd others’ beds’ revenues of their rents. 
+Be it lawful I love thee, as thou lovest those 
+
+
+Whom thine eyes woo as mine importune — 
+
+
+thee: 
+Root pity in thy heart, that when it grows 
+Thy pity may deserve to pitied be. 
+
+
+If thou dost seek to have what thou dost 
+
+
+hide, 
+By self-example mayst thou be denied! 
+
+
+’ 
+
+
+SONNETS 
+
+
+1307 
+
+
+SS Oe eee 
+
+
+CXLIII. 
+
+
+Lo! as a careful housewife runs to catch 
+
+One of her feather’d creatures broke away, 
+
+Sets down her babe and makes all swift dis- 
+patch 
+
+In pursuit of the thing she would have stay, 
+
+Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase, 
+
+Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent 
+
+To follow that which flies before her face, 
+
+Not prizing her poor infant's discontent; 
+
+So runn’st thou after that which flies from 
+thee, 
+
+Whilst I thy babe chase thee afar behind; 
+
+But if thou catch thy hope, turn back to me, 
+
+And play the mother’s part, kiss me, be kind: 
+
+So will I pray that thou mayst have thy 
+
+
+ill, , 
+If thou turn back, and my loud crying still. 
+
+
+CXLIV. 
+
+
+Two loves I have of comfort and despair, 
+Which I ke two spirits do suggest me still: 
+The better angel is a man right fair, 
+The worser spirit a woman colour'd ill. 
+To win me soon to hell, my female evil 
+Tempteth my better angel from my side, 
+And would corrupt my saint to be a devil, 
+Wooing his purity with her foul pride. 
+And whether that my angel be turn’d fiend 
+Suspect I may, yet not directly tell; 
+But being both from me, both to each friend, 
+I guess one angel in another's hell: 
+
+Yet this shall I ne'er know, but live in 
+
+doubt, 
+Till my bad angel fire my good one out. 
+
+
+CXLV. 
+
+
+Those lips that Love’s own hand did make 
+Breathed forth the sound that said ‘I hate’ 
+To me that languish'd for her sake; 
+But when she saw my woeful state, 
+Straight in her heart did mercy come, 
+Chiding that tongue that ever sweet 
+Was used in giving gentle doom, 
+And taught it thus anew to greet; 
+‘I hate’ she alter'd with an end, 
+That fo'low'd it as gentle day 
+Doth follow n ght, who like a fiend 
+From heaven to hell is flown away; 
+
+‘I hate’ from hate away she threw, 
+
+And saved my life, saying ‘not you.’ 
+
+
+CXLVI. 
+Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, 
+FT -sseethese rebel powers that thee array, 
+
+
+Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth, 
+Painting thy outward walls so costly gay? 
+
+y so large cost. having so short a lease, 
+Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend? 
+
+
+Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, 
+Eat up thy charge? is this thy body's end? 
+hen, soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss, 
+And let that pine to aggravate thy store; 
+Buy ‘terms divine in selling nours of dross; 
+Within be fed, without be rich no more: 
+So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on 
+men, 
+And Death once dead, there's no more 
+dying then. 
+
+
+CXLVII. 
+My love is as a fever, longing still 
+For that which longer nurseth the disease, 
+Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, 
+The uncertain sickly appetite to please. — 
+My reason, the physician to my love, 
+Angry that his prescr’ptions are not kept, 
+Hath left me, and I desperate now approve 
+Desire is death, which physic did except. 
+Past cure I am, now reason is past care, 
+And frantic-mad with evermore unrest; 
+My thoughts and my discourse as madmen’s 
+are, 
+
+At random from the truth vainly express'd; 
+
+For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee 
+
+bright, 
+Who art as black as hell, as dark as night. 
+
+
+CXLVIII, 
+
+
+O me, what eyes hath Love put in my head, 
+Which have no correspondence with true 
+sight! 
+Or, if they have, where is my judgement fled, 
+That censures falsely what they see aright? 
+If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote, 
+What means the world to say it is not so? 
+Tf it be not, then love doth well denote 
+Love's eye is not so true as all men’s ‘No.’ 
+How can it? O, how can Love’s eye be true, 
+That is so vex’d with watching and with 
+tears? 
+No marvel then, though I mistake my view; 
+The sun itself sees not till heaven clears. 
+O cunning Love! with tears thou keep'st 
+me blind, 
+Lest thy well-seeing thy foul faults should 
+nd. 
+
+
+CXLIX, 
+
+
+Canst thou, O cruel! say I love thee not, 
+When I against myself with thee partake? 
+Do.I not think on thee, when I forgot 
+
+Am of. myself, all tyrant, for thy sake? 
+Who hateth thee that I do call my friend? 
+On whom frown’st thou that I do fawn 
+
+upon ? 
+
+Nay, if thou lour’st on me, do I net spend 
+Revenge upon myself with present moan? 
+
+
+1308 
+
+
+What merit do I in myself respect, 
+
+That is so proud thy service to despise, 
+
+When all my best doth worship thy defect, 
+
+Commanded by the motion of thine eyes? 
+But, love, hate on, for now I know thy 
+
+
+mind; 
+Those that can see thou lovest, and I am 
+blind. 
+cL. 
+O, from what power hast thou this powerful 
+might 
+
+
+With insufficiency my heart to sway? 
+To make me give the lie to my true s ght, 
+And swear that brightness doth not grace the 
+day > 
+Whence hast thou this becoming of things ill, 
+That in the very refuse of thy deeds 
+There is such strength and warrantise of skill 
+That, in my mind, thy worst all best exceeds? 
+Who taught thee how to make me love thee 
+move 
+The more I hear and see just cause of hate? 
+O, though I love what others do abhor, 
+With others thou shouldst not abhor my 
+state: 
+If thy unworthiness raised love in me, 
+More worthy | to be beloved of thee. 
+
+
+CLI, 
+
+
+Love is too young to know what conscience is; 
+Yet who knows not conscience is born of 
+love? 
+Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss, 
+Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove: 
+For, thou betraying me, | do betray 
+My nobler part to my gross body's treason; 
+My soul doth tell my body that he may 
+Triumph in love; flesh stays no farther 
+reason; 
+But, rising at thy name, doth point out thee 
+As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride, 
+He is contented thy poor drudge to be, 
+To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side. 
+No want of conscience hold it that I call 
+Her ‘love’ for whose dear love I rise and 
+
+
+fall. 
+
+
+CLI. 
+
+
+In loving thee thou know’st | am forsworn, 
+
+But thou art twice forsworn, to me_ love 
+swearing. 
+
+In act thy bed-vow broke and new faith torn 
+
+ln vowing ‘new hate after new love bearing. 
+
+
+SONNETS 
+
+
+But why of two oaths’ breach do I accuse 
+thee, 
+When I break twenty? I am perjured most; 
+For all my vows are oaths but to misuse thee 
+And all my honest faith in thee is lost, 
+For I have sworn deep oaths of thy deep 
+kindness, 
+Oaths of thy love, thy truth, thy constancy, 
+And, to enlighten thee, gave eyes to blindness, 
+Or made them swear against the thing they 
+see; 
+For I have sworn thee fair; more perjured I, 
+To swear against the truth so foul a lie! 
+
+
+CLI. 
+
+
+Cupid laid by his brand, and fell! asleep: 
+A maid of Dian’s this advantage found, 
+And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep 
+In a cold valley-fountain of that ground; 
+Which borrow'd from this holy fire of Love 
+A dateless lively heat, still to endure, 
+And grew a seething bath, which yet men 
+prove 
+Against strange malad’es a sovereign cure. 
+But at my mistress’ eye Love's brand new- 
+fired, 
+The boy for trial needs would touch my 
+breast; 
+I, sick withal, the help of bath desired, 
+And thither hied, a sad distemper’d guest, 
+But found no cure: the bath for my help 
+lies 
+Where Cupid got new fire—my mistress’ 
+eyes. ~ 
+
+
+CLIV. 
+
+
+The little love-god lying once asleep 
+Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand, 
+Whilst many nymphs that vow'd chaste life 
+to keep 
+Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand 
+The fairest votary took up that fire 
+Which many legions of true 
+warm'd; 
+And so the general of hot desire 
+Was sleeping by a virgin hand disarm’d. 
+This brand she quenched ‘n a cool well by, 
+Which from Love's fire took heat perpetual, 
+Growing a bath and healthful remedy 
+For men diseased; but I, my mistress’ thrall, 
+Came there for cure, and this by that I 
+prove, 
+Love's fire heats water, water cools not love, 
+
+
+heartshaball 
+
+
+ieee 
+
+
+— 
+amy 
+
+
+ee ee a Se 
+
+
+A LOVER’S 
+
+
+COMPLAINT 
+
+
+From off a hill whose concave womb re-;Of folded schedules had she many a one, 
+
+
+worded 
+A plaintful story from a sistering vale, 
+My spirits to attend this double voice ac- 
+corded, 
+And down I laid to list the sad-tuned tale; 
+Ere long espied a fickle maid full pale, 
+Tearing of papers, breaking rings a-twain, 
+Storming her world with sorrow’s wind and 
+rain. 
+
+
+Upon her head a platted hive of straw, 
+Which fortified her visage from the sun, 
+Whereon the thought might think sometime it 
+saw 10 
+The carcass of a beauty spent and done: 
+Time had not scythed all that youth begun, 
+Nor youth all quit; but, spite of heaven's 
+fell rage, 
+Some beauty peep’d through lattice of sear'd 
+age. 
+
+
+Oft did she heave her napkin to her eyne, 
+Which on it had conceited characters, 
+Laundering the silken figures in the brine 
+That season’d woe had pelleted in tears, 
+And often reading what contents it bears; 
+As often shrieking undistinguish'd woe, 20 
+In clamours of all size, both high and low. 
+
+
+Sometimes her levell’d eyes their carriage ride, 
+As they did battery to the spheres intend; 
+Sometime diverted their poor balls are tied 
+To the orbed earth; sometimes they do ex- 
+tend 
+Their view right on; anon their gazes lend 
+To every place at once, and, nowhere fix’d, 
+The mind and sight distractedly commix’d. 
+
+
+Her hair, nor loose nor tied in formal plat, 
+
+
+Proclaim'd in her a careless hand of pride 30 
+
+For some, untuck'd, descended her sheaved 
+hat, 
+
+Hanging her pale and pined cheek beside; 
+
+Some in her threaden fillet still did bide, 
+
+And true to bondage would not break from 
+thence, P 
+
+Though slackly braided in loose negligence. 
+
+
+A thousand favours from a maund she drew 
+Of amber, crystal, and of beaded jet, 
+Which one by one she in a river threw, 
+Upon whose weep ng margent she was set; 
+Like usury, applying wet to wet, 
+Or monarch’s hands that let not bounty fall 
+Where want cries some, but where excess begs 
+all. 
+
+
+Which she perused, sigh’d, tore, and gave the 
+flood; 
+
+Crack'd many a ring of posied gold and bone, 
+
+Bidding them find their sepulchres in mud; 
+
+Found yet moe letters sadly penn'd in blood, 
+
+With sleided silk feat and affectedly 
+
+
+Enswathed, and seal'd to curious secrecy. 
+
+
+These often bathed she in her fluxive eyes, 50 
+And often kiss'd, and often ‘gan to tear; 
+Cried ‘O false blood, thou register of lies, 
+What unapproved witness dost thou bear! 
+Ink would have seem’d more black and 
+damned here!’ 
+This said, in top of rage the lines she rents, 
+Big discontent so breaking their contents. 
+
+
+A reverend man that grazed his cattle nigh— 
+Sometime a blusterer, that the ruffle knew 
+Of court, of city, and had let go by 
+
+The swiftest hours, observed as they flew— 60 
+Towards this afflicted fancy fastly drew, 
+And, pr'vileged by age, desires to know ; 
+In brief: the grounds and motives of her woe. 
+
+
+So slides he down upon his grained bat, 
+And comely-distant sits he by her side; 
+When he again desires her, being sat, 
+
+Her grievance with his hearing to divide: 
+
+If that from him there may be aught applied 
+Which may her suffer'ng ecstasy assuage, 
+"Tis promised in the charity of age. 70 
+‘Father,’ she says, ‘though in me you behold 
+The injury of many a blasting hour, 
+
+Let it not tell your judgement I am old; 
+Not age, but sorrow, over me hath power: 
+
+I might as yet have been a spreading flower, 
+Fresh to myself, if I had self-applied 
+
+
+Love to myself and to no love beside. 
+
+
+“But, woe is me! too early I attended 
+
+A youthful suit—it was to gain my grace— 
+Of one by nature's outwards so commended, 
+That maidens’ eyes stuck over all his face: 
+Love lack’d a dwelling, and made him her 
+
+place; 
+
+And when in his fair parts she did abide, 
+She was new lodged and newly deified. 
+
+
+‘His browny locks did hang in crooked curls; 
+And every light occasion of the wind 
+Upen his lips their silken parcels hurls. 
+
+
+40 | What's sweet to do, to do will aptly find: 
+
+
+Each eye that saw him did enchant the mind, 
+For on h’s visage was in little drawn 90 
+What largeness thinks in Paradise was sawn. 
+
+
+130S 
+
+
+- 1310 A LOVER'S 
+
+
+‘Small show of man was yet upon his chin; 
+
+His phcenix down began but to appear 
+
+Like unshorn velvet on that termless skin 
+
+Whose bare out-bragg’d the web it seem’d to 
+wear: 
+
+Yet show'd his visage by that cost more dear; 
+
+And nice affections wavering stood in doubt 
+
+If best were as it was, or best without. 
+
+
+*His qualities were beauteous as his form, 99 
+For maiden-tongued he was, and thereof free; 
+Yet, if men moved him, was he such a storm 
+As oft ‘twixt May and April is to see, 
+When winds breathe sweet, unruly though 
+they be. 
+His rudeness so with his authorized youth 
+Did livery falseness in a pride of truth. 
+
+
+“Well could he ride, and often men would say 
+“That horse his mettle from his r.der takes: 
+Proud of subjection, noble by the sway, 
+What rounds, what bounds, what course, what 
+stop he makes!” 
+
+And controversy hence a question takes, 110 
+Whether the horse by him became his deed, 
+Or he his manage by the well-doing steed. 
+
+
+*But quickly on this side the verdict went: 
+
+His real habitude gave life and grace 
+
+To appertainings and to ornament, 
+
+Accomplish’d in himself, not in his case: 
+
+All aids, themselves made fairer by their 
+place, 
+
+Came for additions; yet their purposed trim 
+
+Pieced not his grace, but were all graced by 
+him. 
+
+
+‘So on the tip of his subduing tongue 120 
+All kind of arguments and question deep, 
+All replication prompt, and reason strong, 
+For his advantage still did wake and sleep: 
+To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep, 
+
+
+He had the dialect and different skill, 
+
+
+Catching all, passions in his craft of will: 
+
+
+‘That he did in the general bosom reign 
+
+Of young, of old; and sexes both enchanted, 
+
+To dwell with him in thoughts, or to remain 
+
+In personal duty, following where he haunted: 
+
+Consents bewitch'd, ere he desire, have 
+granted; 
+
+And dialogued for him what he would say, 
+
+Ask'd their own wills, and made their wills 
+obey. 
+
+
+“Many there were that did his picture get, 
+
+To serve their eyes, and in it put their mind; 
+
+Like fools that in th’ imagination set 
+
+The goodly objects which abroad they find 
+
+Of lands and mansions, theirs in thought 
+assign’d; 
+
+
+COMPLAINT 
+
+And labouring in moe pleasures to bestow 
+them 
+
+Than the true gouty landlord which doth owe 
+them: 140 
+
+
+‘So many have, that never touch’d his hand, 
+Sweetly supposed them mistress of his heart. 
+My woeful self, that did in freedom stand, 
+And was my own fee-simple, not in part, 
+What with h’s art in youth, and youth in art, 
+Threw my affections in his charmed power, 
+Reserved the stalk and gave him all my flower. 
+
+
+“Yet did I not. as some my equals did, 
+Demand of him, nor being desired yielded; 
+Finding myself in honour so forbid, 150 
+With safest distance I mine honour shielded: 
+Exper ence for me many bulwarks builded 
+Of proofs new-bleeding, which remain’d the 
+foil 
+Of this false jewel, and his amorous spoil. 
+
+
+‘But, ah, who ever shunn’d by precedent 
+
+The destined ill she must herself assay? 
+
+Or forced examples, ‘gainst her own content, 
+To put the by-past perils in her way? 
+Counsel may stop awhile what will not stay; 
+For when we rage, advice is often seen 160 
+By blunting us to make our wits more keen. 
+
+
+‘Nor g'ves it satisfaction to our blood, 
+
+That we must curb it upon others’ proof; 
+To be forbod the sweets that seem so good, 
+For fear of harms that preach in our behoof, 
+O appetite, from judgements stand aloof! 
+The one a palate hath that needs will taste, 
+Though Reason weep, and cry “It is thy last.” 
+
+
+‘For further I could say “This man’s untrue,” 
+And knew the patterns of his foul beguiling; 
+Heard where his plants in others’ orchards 
+grew, 7) = 
+Saw how deceits were gilded in his smiling; 
+Knew vows were ever brokers to defiling; 
+Thought characters and words merely but art, 
+And bastards of his foul adulterate heart, 
+
+
+‘And long upon these terms I held my city, 
+T ll thus he gan besiege me: “Gentle maid, 
+Have of my suffering youth some feeling pity, 
+And be not of my holy vows afraid: 
+That's to ye sworn to none was ever said; 
+For feasts of love I have been call'd unto, 
+Till now did ne'er invite, nor never woo. 
+
+
+All my offences that abroad you see 
+
+Are errors of the blood, none of the mind; 
+Love made them not: with acture they may be, 
+Where neither party is nor true nor kind: : 
+They sought their shame that so their shame 
+did find; ; 
+
+
+A LOVER'S COMPLAINT 
+
+
+And so much less of shame in me rema‘ns, 
+By how much of me their reproach contains. 
+
+
+““Among the many that mine eyes have seen, 
+
+Not one whose flame my heart so much as 
+
+warm'd, 191 
+
+Or my affection put to the smallest teen, 
+
+Or any of my leisures ever charm’d: 
+
+Harm have I done to them, but ne'er was 
+harm'd; 
+
+Kept hearts in liveries, but mine own was free, 
+
+And reign’d, commanding in his monarchy. 
+
+
+““TLook here, what tributes wounded fancies 
+sent me, 
+
+Of paled pearls and rubies red as blood; 
+
+Figuring that they their passions likewise lent 
+
+
+me 
+Of grief and blushes, aptly understood 200 
+In bloodless white and the encrimson'’d mood; 
+Effects of terror and dear modesty, 
+Encamp’d in hearts, but fighting outwardly. 
+
+
+***And, lo, behold these talents of their hair, 
+With twisted metal amorously impleach’d, 
+
+I have received from many a several fair, 
+Their kind acceptance weepingly beseech’d, 
+With the annexions of fair gems enrich’d, 
+And deep-brain’d sonnets that did amplify 
+Each stone’s dear nature, worth, and quality. 
+
+
+*“The diamond,—why, ‘twas beautiful and 
+hard, 21) 
+Whereto his invised properties did tend; 
+The deep-green emerald, in whose fresh regard 
+Weak sights their sickly radiance do amend; 
+The heaven-hued sapphire and the opal blend 
+With objects man fold: each several stone, 
+With wit well blazon’d, smiled or made some 
+moan. 
+
+
+*“To, all these trophies of affections hot, 
+Of pensived and subdued desires: the tender, 
+Nature hath charged me that | hoard them not, 
+But yield them up where I myself must render, 
+That is, to-you, my origin and ender; 
+
+For these, of force, must your oblations be, 
+Since I their altar, you enpatron me. 
+
+
+““O, then, advance of yours that phraseless 
+hand, 
+Whose white weights down the airy scale of 
+praise; 
+Take all these similes to your own command, 
+Hallow'd with sighs that burning lungs did 
+“raise; 
+
+
+_ What me your minister, for you obeys, 
+
+
+Works under you; and to your audit comes 
+Their distract parcels in combined sums. 
+
+
+Pa 
+
+
+Lo, this device was sent me from-a nun, 
+Or sister sanctified. of holiest note; 
+
+
+1311 
+
+
+———— 
+
+
+Which late her noble suit in court dd shun, 
+Whose rarest havings made the blossoms dote; 
+For she was sought by spirits of richest coat, 
+But kept cold distance, and did thence remove 
+To spend her living in eternal love. 
+
+
+*“ But, O my sweet, what labour is ‘t to leave 
+The thing we have not, mastering what not 
+
+
+strives, 240 
+TPlaying the place which did no form re- 
+ceive, 
+
+
+Playing patient sports in unconstrained gyves? 
+She that her fame so to herself contrives, 
+The scars of battle ‘scapeth by the flight, 
+And makes her absence valiant, not her might. 
+
+
+*“©, pardon me, in that my boast is true: 
+The accident which brought me to her eye 
+Upon the moment did her force subdue, 
+And now she would the caged cloister fly: 
+Rel gious love put out Religion’s eye: 250 
+Not to be tempted, would she be immured, 
+And now, to tempt, all liberty procured. 
+
+
+*“How mighty then you are, O, hear me tell! 
+
+The broken bosoms that to me belong 
+
+Have emptied all their fountains in my well, 
+
+And mine I pour your ocean all among: 
+
+I strong o'er them, and you o’er me being 
+strong, 
+
+Must for your victory us all congest, 
+
+As compound love to physic your cold breast. 
+
+
+*“My parts had power to charm a sacred nun, 
+Who, disciplined, ay, dieted in grace, 261 
+Believed her eyes when they to assail begun, 
+All vows and consecrations giving place: 
+
+O most potential love! vow, bond, nor space, 
+In thee hath neither sting, knot, nor confine, 
+For thou art all, and all things else are thine. 
+
+
+*““When thou impressest, what are precepts 
+worth be 
+Of stale example? When thou wilt inflame, 
+How coldly those impediments stand forth 
+Of wealth, of filial fear, law, kindred, fame! 
++ Love’s. arms are peace, ‘gainst mle, “gainst 
+sense, ‘gainst shame, 
+And sweetens, in the suffering pangs it bears, 
+The aloes of all forces, shocks, and fears. 
+
+
+on 
+
+
+Now all these hearts that do on mine de- 
+pend, : 
+
+Feeling it break, with bleeding groans they 
+pine; a 
+
+And supplicant their sighs to you extend, 
+
+To leave the battery that you make “gainst 
+mine, . 
+
+Lending soft audience to my sweet design, 
+
+And credent-soul to that strong-bonded oath 
+
+That shall prefer and undertake my troth.” 
+
+
+Hee 
+
+
+‘This said, his watery eyes he did dismount, 
+Whose sights till then were levell’d on my 
+ace; 
+Each cheek a river running from a fount 
+With brinish current downward flow'd apace: 
+O, how the channel to the stream gave grace! 
+Who glazed with crystal gate the glowing roses 
+That flame through water which their hue 
+encloses, 
+
+
+*O father, what a hell of witchcraft lies 
+
+In the small orb of one particular tear! 
+
+But with the inundation of the eyes 290 
+What rocky heart to water will not wear? 
+What breast so cold that is not warmed here? 
+O cleft effect! cold modesty, hot wrath, 
+Both fire from hence and chill extincture hath. 
+
+
+‘For, lo, his passion, but an art of craft, 
+
+Even there resolved my reason into tears; 
+
+There my white stole of chastity I daff'd, 
+
+Shook off my sober guards and civil fears; 
+
+Appear to him, as he to me appears, 
+
+All melting; though our drops this difference 
+bore, 300 
+
+His poison'd me, and mine did him restore. 
+
+
+“In him a plenitude of subtle matter, 
+
+Applied to cautels, all strange forms receives, 
+
+Of burning blushes, or of weeping water, 
+
+Or swooning paleness; and he takes and 
+leaves, 
+
+Jn either’s aptness, as it best deceives, 
+
+
+A LOVER'S COMPLAINT 
+
+
+To blush at speeches rank, to weep at woes, 
+Or to turn white and swoon at tragic shows: 
+
+
+‘That not a heart which in his level came 
+Could ‘scape the hail of his all-hurting aim, 
+Showing fair nature is both kind and tame; 
+And, veil’d in them, did win whom he would 
+maim: 
+Against the thing he sought he would exclaim; 
+When he most burn'd in heart-wish'd luxury, 
+He preach'd pure maid, and praised cold 
+chastity. 
+
+
+‘Thus merely with the garment of a Grace 
+The naked and concealed fiend he cover'd 
+That th’ unexperient gave the tempter place, 
+Which like a cherubin above them hover'd. 
+Who, young and simple, would not be so 
+lover'd? 320 
+Ay me! I fell; and yet do question make 
+What I should do again for such a sake. 
+
+
+‘O, that infected moisture of his eye, 
+O, that false fire which in his cheek so glow’d, 
+
+
+‘}O, that forced thunder from his heart did 
+
+
+y; 
+O, that sad breath his spongy lungs bestow’d, 
+O, all that borrow’d motion seeming owed, 
+Would yet again betray the fore-betray’d, 
+
+
+THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM 
+
+
+I 
+
+
+WHEN my love swears that she is made of 
+truth, 
+
+I do believe her, though I know she lies, 
+
+That she might think me some untutor’d youth. 
+
+Unskilful in the world’s false forgeries. 
+
+Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me 
+
+
+young, 
+
+Although I know my years be past the best, 
+I smiling credit her false-speaking tongue, 
+Outfacing faults in love with love's ill rest. 
+But wherefore says my love that she is young? 
+And wherefore say not I that I am old? 10 
+O, love’s best habit is a soothing tongue, 
+And age, in love, loves not to have years told. 
+
+Therefore I'll lie with love, and love with 
+
+
+me, 
+Since that our faults in love thus smother'd 
+
+
+I, 
+
+
+Two loves I have, of comfort and despair, 
+That like two spirits do suggest me still; 
+
+
+And new pervert reconciled maid!” 329 
+My better angel is a man right fair, 
+My worser spirit a woman colour’d ill. 
+
+o win me soon to hell, my female evil 
+Tempteth my better angel from my side, 20 
+
+
+And would corrupt my saint to be a devil, 
+Wooing his purity with her fair pride. 
+And whether that my angel be turn’d fiend, -» 
+Suspect I may, yet not directly tell: 
+For being both to me, both to each friend, 
+I guess one angel in another's hell: 
+
+The truth I shall not know, but live in 
+
+
+oubt, 
+Till my bad angel fire my good one out. 
+
+
+Il, 
+
+
+Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye, 
+‘Gainst whom the world could not hold argu- 
+ment, 30 
+Persuade my heart to this false perjury? 
+Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment. 
+A woman I forswore; but I will prove, 
+Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee: 
+
+
+te & 
+
+
+ee a eS Oe 
+
+
+THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM 
+
+
+1313 
+
+
+ee aE Senn 
+
+
+My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love; 
+
+Thy grace being gain'd cures all disgrace in 
+me. 
+
+My vow was breath, and breath a vapour is; 
+
+
+Then, thou fair sun, that on this earth doth 
+
+
+shine, 
+Exhale ths vapour vow; in thee it is: 
+If broken, then it is no fault of mine. 40 
+
+
+If by me broke, what fool is not so wise 
+To break an oath, to win a paradise? 
+
+
+IV. 
+
+
+Sweet Cytherea, sitting by a brook 
+With young Adonis, lovely, fresh, and green, 
+Did court the lad with many a lovely look, 
+Such looks as none could look but beauty’s 
+queen, 
+She told him stories to delight his ear; 
+She show'd him favours to allure his eye; 
+To win his heart, she touch’d him here and 
+there,— 
+Touches so soft st ll conquer chastity. 50 
+But whether unripe years did want conceit, 
+Or he refused to take her figured proffer, 
+The tender nibbler would not touch the bait, 
+But smile and jest at every gentle offer: 
+Then fell she on her back, fair queen, and 
+toward: 
+He rose and ran away; ah, fool too fro- 
+ward! 
+v. 
+If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear 
+to love? 
+O never faith could hold, if not to beauty 
+
+
+vow'd: 
+Though to myself forsworn, to thee I ‘Il con- 
+
+
+stant prove; 
+Those thoughts, to me like oaks, to thee like 
+osiers bow'd 60 
+
+
+Study his bias leaves, and makes his book 
+
+
+thine eyes, 
+
+Where all those pleasures live that art can 
+
+; comprehend. 
+
+If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall 
+suffice; 
+
+Well learned is that tongue that well can thee 
+commend; 
+
+All ignorant that soul that sees thee w-thout 
+wonder; 
+
+Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts 
+admire: 
+
+
+Thine eye Jove’s lightning seems, thy voice 
+his dreadful thunder, 
+
+Which, not to anger bent, is music and ‘sweet 
+re. 
+
+
+Celestial as thou art, O do not love that 
+wrong, 
+
+To sing heaven's praise with such an earthly 
+tongue, 70 
+
+
+VI. 
+
+
+Scarce had the sun dried up the dewy morn, 
+And scarce the herd gone to the hedge for 
+shade, 
+
+When Cytherea, all in love forlorn, 
+
+A longing tarriance for Adonis made 
+
+Under an osier growing by a brook, 
+
+A brook where Adon used to cool his spleen: 
+
+Hot was the day; she hotter that did look 
+
+For his approach, that often there had been. 
+
+Anon he comes, and throws his mantie by, 
+
+And stood stark naked on the brook’s green 
+i 80 
+
+
+rim: 
+The sun look’d on the world with glorious eye, 
+Yet not so wistly as this queen on him. 
+He, spying her, bounced in, whereas he 
+stood: 
+‘O Jove,’ quoth she, ‘why was not I a 
+flood!" 
+
+
+Vil, 
+
+
+Fair is my love, but not so fair as fickle; 
+M ld as a dove, but neither true nor trusty; 
+Brighter than glass, and yet, as glass is, 
+brittle; 
+Softer than wax, and yet, as iron, rusty: 
+A lily pale, with damask dye to grace her, 
+None fairer, nor none falser to deface her. 
+
+
+Her lips to mine how often hath she joined, 
+Between each kiss her oaths of true love 
+swearing! 
+How many tales to please me hath she coined, 
+Dreading my love, the loss thereof still feaying! 
+Yet in the midst of all her pure protestings, 
+Her faith, her oaths, her tears, and all were 
+jestings. 
+
+
+She burn’d with love, as straw with fire 
+flameth; 
+She burn’d out love, as soon as straw out- 
+burneth; 
+She framed the love, and yet she foil’d the 
+framing; 
+She bade love last, and yet she fell a-turning. 
+Was this a lover, or a lecher whether? 101 
+Bad in the best, though excellent in neither. 
+
+
+Vill, 
+
+
+If music and sweet poetry agree, 
+As they must needs, the sister and the brother, 
+Then must the love be great ‘twixt thee and 
+
+
+me, 
+
+Because thou lovest the one, and I the other. 
+
+Dowland to thee is dear, whose heavenly 
+touch 
+
+Upon the lute doth ravish human sense; 
+
+Spenser to me, whose deep concet is such 
+
+
+As, passing all conceit, needs no defence. 110 
+
+
+1314 
+
+
+THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM : 
+
+
+Thou lovest to hear the sweet melodious sound 
+That Phebus’ lute, the queen of music, makes; 
+And I in deep delight am chiefly drown'’d 
+Whenas himself to singing he betakes. 
+One god is god of both, as poets feign; 
+One knight loves both; and both in thee 
+
+
+remain. 
+IX. 
+Fair was the morn when the fair queen of love, 
+a % % * * % 
+
+
+Paler for sorrow than her milk-white dove, 
+For Adon’s sake, a youngster protd and wild; 
+Her stand she takes upon a steep-up hill: 121 
+Anon Adonis comes with horn and hounds: 
+She, silly, queen, with more than love's good 
+will, 
+Forbade the boy he should not pass those 
+grounds: 
+“Once,’ quoth she, ‘did I see a fair sweet 
+youth 
+Here: in these brakes deep-wounded with a 
+boar, 
+Deep in the thigh, a spectacle of ruth! 
+See, in my thigh,’ quoth she, ‘here was the 
+sore. 
+She showed hers: he saw more wounds than 
+one 
+
+
+And blushing “fled, and left her all alone. 
+
+
+Xx. 
+Sweet rose, fair flower, untimely pluck’d, soon 
+
+
+vaded, 
+Pluck’d in the bud, and vaded in the sprinc! 
+Bright orient pearl, alack, too timely shaded! 
+Fair creature, kill’d too soon by death's sharp 
+sting! 
+Like a green plum that hangs upon a tree, 
+And falls, through wind, before the fall 
+should be. 
+
+
+I weep for thee, and yet no cause | have; 
+For why thou left’st me nothing in thy will: 
+And yet thou left’st me more than I did crave; 
+For why I craved nothing of thee still: 140 
+O yes, dear friend, I pardon crave of thee, 
+Thy discontent thou didst bequeath to me. 
+
+
+XI. 
+Venus, with young Adonis sitting by her 
+Under a myrtle shade, began to woo him: 
+She told the youngl:ing how god Mars did try 
+
+
+her, 
+And as he fell to her, so fell she to him. 
+“Even thus,’ quoth she, ‘the warlike god em- 
+_' braced me,’ 
+And then she clipp’d Adonis in her arms; 
+‘Even thus,’ quoth she, ‘the warlike god un- 
+laced me,’ 149 
+As if the boy should use like loving charms; 
+
+
+‘Even thus,’ quoth she, ‘he seized on my lips,’ 
+And with her lips on his did act the seizure: 
+And as she fetched breath, away he skips, 
+And would not take her meaning nor her 
+pleasure. 
+Ah, that I had my lady at this bay, 
+To kiss and cl'p me till I run away! 
+
+
+XIL. 
+Crabbed age and youth cannot live together: 
+Youth is full of pleasance, age is full of care; 
+Youth like summer morn, age like winter 
+weather; 
+Youth like summer brave, age like winter bare. 
+Youth is full of sport, age’s breath is-short; 
+Youth is nimble, age is lame; 
+Youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold; 
+Youth ‘s wild, and age is tame. 
+Age, 1 do abhor thee; youth, I do adore thee; 
+O, my love, my love is young! 
+Age, I do defy thee: O, sweet shepherd, hie 
+thee, : 
+For methinks thou stay'st too long. - 
+
+
+XI, 
+
+
+Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good; 
+A shining gloss that vadeth suddenly; 170 
+A flower that dies when first it gins to bud; 
+A brittle glass that’s broken Presently: 
+A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower, 
+Lost, vaded, broken, dead within an hour. 
+
+
+And as goods lost are seld or never found, 
+
+As vaded gloss no rubbing will refresh, 
+
+As flowers dead lie wither'd on the ground, 
+
+As broken glass no cement can redress, 
+So beauty blemish’d once’s for ever lost, 
+In spite of physic, pa‘nting, pain and cost. 
+
+
+XIV. 
+Good night, good rest, Ah, neither be my ; 
+share: « 
+She bade good night that kept my rest away; ® 
+And daff'd me to a cabin hang'd with care, 
+To descant on the doubts of my decay. 
+‘Farewe'l,’ quoth she, ‘and come again to- 
+morrow: 
+Fare well I could not, for I supp'd with 
+sorrow. 
+
+
+Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile, 
+
+In scorn or friendship, nill-I construe whether: 
+
+"T may be, she joy'd to jest at my exile, 189 
+
+"T may be, again to make me wander thither: 
+“Wander,’ a word for shadows like myself, 
+As take the pain, but cannot pluck the pelf, 
+
+
+XV. 
+
+
+Lord, how mine eyes throw gazes to the east! 
+My heart doth charge the watch; the morning 
+rise 
+
+
+2 
+a 
+
+
+dere alae 
+
+
+- SONNETS TO SUNDRY NOTES OF MUSIC 
+
+
+1315 
+
+
+Doth cite each moving sense from idle rest. 
+Not daring trust the office of mine eyes, 
+While Philomela sits and sings, I sit and 
+
+
+mark, 
+And wish her lays were tuned like the 
+lark; 
+
+
+‘For she doth welcome daylight with her 
+ditty, 
+
+And drives away dark dismal-dreaming night: 
+
+The night so pack’d, I post unto my pretty; 
+
+Heart hath his hope, and eyes their wished 
+sight; 
+
+
+Sorrow changed to solace, solace mix’d with 
+sorrow; 
+
+For why, she sigh’d and bade me come to- 
+morrow. 
+
+
+Were I with her, the night would post too 
+soon; 
+But now are minutes added to the hours; 
+To spite me now, each minute seems a moon; 
+Yet not for me, shine sun to succour flowers! 
+Pack night, peep day; good day, of night 
+
+
+now borrow: 
+Short, night, to-night, and length thyself 
+to-morrow. 210 
+
+
+SONNETS TO SUNDRY NOTES OF MUSIC 
+
+
+[xvr.] 
+It was a lording’s daughter, the fairest one 
+of three, 
+That liked of her. master as well as well 
+might be, 
+
+
+Till looking on an Englishman, the fair’st 
+that eye could see, 
+Her fancy fell a-turning. 
+Long was ae combat doubtful that love with 
+love did fight, 
+To leave Bie master loveless, or kill the gal- 
+lant knight: 
+To put in practice either, alas, it was a spite 
+Unto the silly damsel! 
+But one must be refused; more mickle was 
+~ the pain 
+That noth ng could be used to turn them both 
+to gain, 220 
+For of the two the trusty knight was wounded 
+with disdain: 
+Alas, she could not help it! 
+
+
+Thus art with arms contending was victor of 
+
+
+the day. 
+
+Which ‘nai a ee of learning did bear the 
+maid aw 
+
+Then, lullaby, nee learned man hath got the 
+lady gay; 
+
+
+For now my song is ended. 
+
+
+XVII. 
+On a day, alack the day! 
+
+
+Love, whose month was ever May, 
+Spied a blossom passing fair, 
+Playing in the wanton air: 
+
+Through the velvet leaves the wind, 
+All unseen, gan passage find; 
+
+That the lover, sick to death, 
+Wish'd himself the heaven's breath, 
+
+
+230 
+
+
+‘Air,’ quoth he, ‘thy cheeks may blow; 
+Air, would J might triumph so! 
+
+But, alas! my hand hath sworn 
+
+Ne’er to pluck thee from thy thorn: 
+Vow, alack! for youth unmeet: 
+
+
+Youth, so apt to pluck a sweet. 240 
+Thou for whom Jove would swear 
+Juno but an Ethiope were; 
+And deny himself for Jove, 
+Turning mortal for thy love.’ 
+[xvut.] 
+
+My flocks feed not, 
+My ewes breed not, 
+My rams speed not, 
+
+All is amiss: 
+Love's denying, 
+Faith's defying, 250 
+
+
+Heart's renying, 
+
+Causer of this. 
+All my merry jigs are quite forgot, 
+All my lady’s love is lost, God wot: 
+Where her faith was firmly fix’d in love, 
+There a nay is placed without remove. 
+One silly cross 
+Wrought all my loss; 
+
+O frowning Fortune, cursed, fickle 
+
+dame! 
+
+For now I see 260 
+Inconstancy 
+
+More in women than in men remain. 
+In black mourn I, 
+All fears scorn I, 
+Love hath forlorn me, 
+
+Living in thrall: 
+
+
+Heart is bleeding, 
+All help need’ng, 
+O cruel speeding, 
+
+
+Fraughted with gall. 270 
+
+
+1316 
+
+
+SONNETS TO SUNDRY NOTES OF MUSIC 
+
+
+My shepherd's pipe can sound no deal; 
+My wether's bell rings doleful knell; 
+My curtail dog, that wont to have play’d, 
+Plays not at all, but seems afraid; 
+My sighs so deep 
+rocure to weep, 
+In howling wise, to see my doleful plight. 
+ow sighs resound 
+Through heartless ground, 
+Like a thousand vanquish’d men in 
+
+
+bloody fight! 
+
+
+Clear wells spring not, 
+Sweet birds sing not, 
+Green plants bring not 
+Forth ther dye; 
+Herds stand weeping, 
+Flocks all sleeping, 
+Nymphs back peeping 
+Fearfully : 
+All our pleasure known to us poor swains, 
+All our merry meetings on the plains, 290 
+All our evening sport from us is fled, 
+All our love is lost, for Love is dead. 
+Farewell, sweet lass, 
+Thy like ne'er was 
+For a sweet content, the cause of all 
+my moan: 
+Poor Corydon 
+Must live a’one; 
+Other help for him I see that there is 
+none. 
+
+
+XIX, 
+When as thine eye hath chose the dame, 
+And stall’d the deer that thou shouldst strike, 
+Let reason rule things worthy blame, 301 
++ As well as fancy partial might: 
+Take counsel of some w’ser head, 
+Neither too young nor yet unwed. 
+
+
+And when thou comest thy tale to tell, 
+Smooth not thy tongue with filed talk, 
+' Lest she some subtle practice smell,— 
+A cripple soon can find a halt;— 
+But plainly say thou lovest her well, 
+And set thy person forth to sell. 
+
+
+What thovgh her frowning brows be bent, 
+Her cloudy looks will calm ere night: 
+And then too late she will repent 
+That thus dissembled her delight; 
+
+And twice desire, ere it be day, 
+
+That which with scorn she put away. 
+
+
+What though she strive to try her strength, 
+
+And ban and brawl. and say thee nay, 
+
+Her feeble force will yield at length, 
+
+When craft hath taught her thus to say, 320 
+‘Had women been so strong as men, 
+
+
+In faith, vou had not had it then.’ 
+
+
+310 
+
+
+cm i 
+
+
+And to her will frame all thy ways; 
+Spare not to spend, and chiefly there 
+Where thy desert may merit praise, 
+By ringing in thy lady's ear: 
+e strongest castle, tower, and town, 
+The golden bullet beats it down. 
+
+
+Serve always with assured trust, 
+And in thy suit be humble true; 
+Unless thy lady prove unjust, 
+Press never thou to choose anew: 
+When time shall serve, be thou not slack 
+To proffer, though she put thee back. 
+
+
+330 
+
+
+The wiles and guiles that women work, 
+Dissembled with an outward show, 
+The tricks and toys that in them lurk, 
+The cock that treads them shall not know. 
+Have you not heard it sad full oft, 
+woman's nay doth stand for nought? 
+
+
++ Think women still to strive with men, 
+To sin and never for to saint: 
+
+There is no heaven, by holy then, 
+When time with age doth them attaint. 
+Were kisses all the joys in bed, 
+
+One woman would another wed. 
+
+
+But, soft! enough, too much, I fear; 
+Lest that my mistress hear my song, 
+She will not stick to round me i’ the ear, 
+To teach my tongue to be so long: 
+Yet will she blush, here be it said, 
+
+
+To hear her secrets so bewray’d. 
+
+
+[xx.] 
+Live with me, and be my love, 
+And we will all the pleasures prove 
+That hills and valleys, dales and fields, - 
+And all the craggy mountains yields. 
+
+
+There will we sit upon the rocks, 
+And see the shepherds feed their flocks, 
+By shallow rivers, by whose fal!s 
+Melodious birds sing madrigals. 
+
+
+There will I make thee a bed of roses, 
+With a thousand fragrant posies, 
+
+A cap of flowers, and a kirtle 
+
+Embro der'd all with leaves of myrtle, 
+
+
+A belt of straw and ivy buds, 
+
+With coral clasps and amber studs; 
+And if these pleasures may thee move, 
+Then live with me and be my love. 
+
+
+Love's Answer. 
+
+
+If that the world and love were young, 
+And truth in every shepherd’s tongue, 
+These pretty pleasures might me move 
+To live with thee and be thy love. 
+
+
+360, 
+
+
+SONNETS TO SUNDRY NOTES OF MUSIC 1317 
+
+
+[xx1.] 
+
+
+As it fell upon a day 
+
+In the merry month of May, 
+
+Sitting in a pleasant shade 
+
+Which a grove of myrtles made, 
+
+Beasts did leap, and birds did sing, 
+Trees did grow, and plants did spring; 
+Every thing did banish moan, 
+
+Save the nightingale alone: 380 
+She, poor bird, as all forlorn, 
+
+Lean'd her breast up-ti!l a thorn, 
+
+And there sung the dolefull’st ditty, 
+That to hear it was great pity: 
+
+‘Fie, fie, fie, now would she cry; 
+“Tereu, tereu!’ by and by; 
+
+That to hear her so complain, 
+
+Scarce I could from tears refrain; 
+
+For her griefs, so lively shown, 
+
+Made me think upon mine own. 390 
+Ah, thought I, thou mourn’st in vain! 
+None takes pity on thy pain: 
+
+Senseless trees they cannot hear thee; 
+Ruthless beasts they will not cheer thee: 
+King Pandion he is dead; 
+
+All thy friends are lapp’d in lead; 
+
+All thy fe'low birds do sing, 
+
+Careless of thy sorrowing. 
+
+Even so, poor bird, like thee, 
+
+None alive will pity me. 400 
+
+
+Whilst as fickle Fortune smiled, 
+
+Thou and I were both begu led. 
+Every one that flatters thee 
+
+Is no friend in misery. 
+
+Words are easy, like the wind; 
+
+Faithful friends are |.ard to find: 
+
+Every man will be thy friend 
+
+Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend; 
+
+But if store of crowns be scant, 
+
+No man will supply thy want. 410 
+
+If that one be prodigal, 
+
+Bountiful they will him call, 
+
+And with such-like flattering, 
+
+‘Pity but he were a king;’ 
+
+If he be addict to vice, 
+
+Quickly him they will entice; 
+
+If to women he be bent, 
+
+They have at commandment: 
+
+But if Fortune once do frown, 
+
+Then farewell his great renown; 420 
+
+They that fawn’d on him before 
+
+Use his company no more. 
+
+He that is thy friend indeed, 
+
+He will help thee in thy need: 
+
+If thou sorrow, he wll weep; 
+
+If thou wake, he cannot sleep; 
+
+Thus of every grief in heart 
+
+He with thee doth bear a part. 
+
+These are certain signs to know 
+
+
+Faithful friend from flattering foe. 430 
+
+
+INDEX OF CHARACTERS 
+
+
+Aaron, Tit. Andr. 
+ABERGAVENNY, Lor, Hen. 
+VIII. 
+
+
+ABHORSON, Meas. for Meas. 
+AsraHaM, Rom. & Jul. 
+ACHILLES, Troilus, 
+ApvaM, As You Like It. 
+AbrIAN, Coriolanus. 
+ADRIAN, Tempest. 
+AbriAna, Com. of Err, 
+FEGEON, Com. of Err. 
+fEmiuia, Com. of Err. 
+fEmitius, Tit. Andr. 
+fEmiuius Lepipus, Jul. Ces. 
+FEneas, Troilus. 
+AGAMEMNON, Troilus, 
+Acrippa, Ant. & Cleop. 
+Acrippa, MENENIUs, Coriol. 
+AGUECHEEK, S:R ANDREW, 
+Twelfth Night, 
+Ajax, Troilus. 
+A arsus, Tit. Andr. 
+Avsany, Duke oF, K. Lear. 
+ALCIBIADES, Timon. 
+ALENGON, Duke or, | Hen. 
+VI 
+
+
+ALEXANDER, Troilus. 
+
+Atexas, Ant. & Cleop. 
+
+Atice, Hen. V. 
+
+ALonso, Tempest. 
+
+Amiens, As You Like It. 
+
+ANDROMACHE, Troilus. 
+
+Anpronicus, Marcus, Tit. 
+Andr. 
+
+ANDRONICUS, Tit. 
+
+ndr. 
+
+ANGELO, Com. of Err. 
+
+ANGELO, Meas. for Meas. 
+
+ANGus, Macbeth. 
+
+Anjou, Reicnier, DuKE oF. 
+
+en. 
+
+ANNE, Lapy, Rich. III. 
+
+ANTENOR, Troilus, 
+
+ANTIGoNUus, Winter's T. 
+
+AnTiocHus, Kinc of AN- 
+TIOcH, Pericles. 
+
+
+Titus, 
+
+
+ANTiocHus, DaAucHTER OF, | 
+
+
+Pericles. 
+ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHEsus, 
+Com. of Err. 
+ANTIPHOLUs oF Syracuse, 
+Com. of Err, 
+
+
+| Antonio, M. of Ven. 
+Antonio, Much Ado. 
+ANTONIO, Tempest. 
+ANTONIO, Twelfth Night. 
+ANTONIO, Two G. of Ver, 
+Antony, Marx, Jul. Ces., 
+Ant. & Cleop. 
+APEMANTUs, Timon. 
+ApotHecary, Rom. & Jul. 
+ARCHIBALD, Eart oF Douc- 
+Las, t Hen. IV. 
+ARCHIDAMUs, Winter's T. 
+ARIEL, Tempest. 
+Armapo, Don AprIANO DE, 
+Love’s L. L, 
+Arracon, Prince or, M. of 
+Ven. 
+ARTEMIDORUS, Jul. Cas. 
+ArtHuR, DukKE oF BRITAINE, 
+K. John. 
+Arviracus, Cymbeline. 
+Aubrey, As You Like It. 
+Auripius, Tutus, Coriol. 
+Avumer_eE, DuxeE of, Rich. II. 
+Autotycus, Winter's T. 
+AUVERGNE, COUNTESS 
+1 Hen. VI. 
+
+
+Bacot, Rich. II. 
+Batuasar, Rom. & Jul. 
+Ba.tuHazar, Com. of Err. 
+Battuazar, M. of Ven. 
+BaLtHazar, Much Ado, 
+Banquo, Macbeth. 
+Baptista, Tam. of Shrew. 
+Barvotpy, | & 2 Hen. IV, 
+Hen. V, Merry Wives. 
+Barpotpu, Lorp, 2 Hen. IV. 
+BARNARDINE, Meas. for Meas. 
+Bassanio, M. of Ven. 
+Basset, | Hen. VI. 
+Bassianus, Tit. Andr. 
+Bates, Hen. V. 
+Bawp, A, Pericles. 
+Beatrice, Much Ado. 
+Beaufort, Henry, BisHop 
+| OF WINCHESTER, I & 2 
+| Hen. VI. 
+| Beaurort, JoHn, Eart oF 
+| Somerset, | Hen. VI. 
+Beaurort, THomas, DuKE 
+oF Exeter, | Hen. VI. 
+
+
+1318 
+
+
+OF, 
+
+
+Beprorp, Duke oF, Hen. Vv, 
+1] Hen. VI, 
+BExartus, Cymbeline. 
+Beco, Sir Topsy, Twelfth 
+Night. 
+BENEDICK, Much Ado. 
+BENvoLio, Rom. & Jul. 
+Berke Ley, Rich. III, 
+BERKELEY, | cro, Rich, Il. 
+BERNarRpo, Hamlet. 
+Berowne, Love's L. L. 
+BERTRAM, CouNT oF Rou- 
+SILLON, All's Well. 
+Bevis, Georcg, 2 Hea. VI. 
+Bianca, Othello, 
+Bianca, Tam. of Shrew. 
+Bicot, Lorp, K. John. - 
+BIoNDELLO, Tam, of Shrew. 
+BLANCH oF Spain, K. John. 
+BLount, Sir James, Rich. III. 
+Brunt, Sin Watter, | & 2 
+Hen. IV. 
+Boatswain, Tempest. 
+BotincsroxE, 2 Hen. VI. 
+BoLincBROKE (afterwards 
+Henry IV), Rich. II, 
+Bona, 3 Hen. VI. 
+
+
+| Boracutio, Much Ado. 
+
+
+Bottom, Mids. N. Dr. 
+
+Bout, Pericles, 
+
+Bourson. Duke oF, Hen. V. 
+
+Bourcuier, CARDINAL, ARCH- 
+BISHOP OF CANTERBURY, 
+Rich. III. 
+
+Boyret, Love's L. L. 
+
+BraBanTio, Othello, a 
+
+BRAKENBURY, SiR Rosert, 
+Rich. III. 
+
+Branpon, Hen. VIII. 
+
+Branpon, Sir WILLIAM, 
+Rich. ITI. 
+
+Britain, QUEEN oF (wife to 
+Cymbeline), Cymbeline. 
+
+Brutus, Dectus, Jul. Ces. 
+
+Brutus, Juntus, Coriolanus. 
+
+Brutus, Marcus, Jul. Ces. 
+
+Bucxkincnam, Dukes of, 2 
+Her. VI, Rich. III, Hen. 
+VIII. 
+
+Buttcatr, 2 Hen. IV. 
+
+BuLten, Anne, Hen. VIII. 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+nei et he aici Sea 
+wr 
+
+
+INDEX OF CHARACTERS 
+
+
+vs 
+
+
+-Burcunpy,’ Duke or, Hen, 
+
+
+V, 1 Hen. VI. 
+Bureunpy, Duxke or, K. 
+Lear. 
+
+
+Busny, Rich. Il. 
+Butts, Doctor, Hen. VIII. 
+
+
+Cape, Jack, 2 Hen, VI. 
+
+CapwaL, Cymbeline. 
+
+Cesar, JuLius, Jul, Ces. 
+
+Czzsar, Octavius, Jul. Czs., 
+Ant. & Cleop. 
+
+Carrungess, Macbeth. 
+
+Catus, Tit, Andr. 
+
+Caius, Docror, Merry Wives. 
+
+Caius Lucius, Cymbeline. 
+
+Catcuas, Troilus. 
+
+CALIBAN, Tempest. 
+
+CaLPHurnia, Jul. Cas. 
+
+Campripce, Earu or, Hen. V. 
+
+CamiL_o, Winter's T. 
+
+
+. CampPeius, CarpINAL, Hen. 
+
+
+VIN. 
+Canipius, Ant, & Cleop 
+CANTERBURY, | ARCHBISHOP 
+or, Hen. V. 
+
+
+Capuis, Timon. 
+
+Carucius, Hen. VIII. 
+CaPuLeT, Rom. & Jul. 
+CapuLet, Lapy, Rom. & Jul. 
+CARESE, BisHop. or, Rich. 
+Casca, Jul. Ces. 
+
+CassaANnpRA, Troilus. 
+
+Cassio, Othello. 
+
+Cassius, Jul. Ces. 
+
+| sabe Six Wituiam, Rich. 
+
+
+Cato, Young, Jul. Ces. 
+Ceuia, As You Like It. 
+CeErES, Tempest. 
+
+
+_ CERIMON, Pericles, 
+
+
+CHAMBERLAIN, Lorp, Hen. 
+VII. 
+
+CHANCELLOR, Lorp,. Hen. 
+VIII ; 
+
+
+Cuar.es, As You Like It, 
+
+CHARLES, THE’ DaupPuin, 1 
+Hen, VI. 
+
+CHARLES THE SixtH, KING 
+OF FrRANcE, Hen. V. 
+
+Cuarmian, Ant. & Cleop, 
+
+a HAM, CLERK oF, 2 Hen. 
+
+
+CuatTILton, K. John. 
+Cuiron, Tit. Andr. 
+
+Cicero, Jul. Ces. 
+
+CimBer, METELLUus, Jul. Ces. 
+
+
+Cinna, Jul. Ces. 
+CLARENCE, GeEorGE, DUKE 
+oF, 3 Hen, VI, Rich, III. 
+CLaRENCE, THomas, DUKE 
+oF, 2 Hen. IV. 
+
+Ciaupio, Meas. for Meas. 
+
+CrLaupio, Much Ado. 
+
+Craupius, Jul. Ces. 
+
+CrLaupius, Kinc or DEn- 
+MARK, Hamlet. 
+
+CLEOMENEs, Winter's T. 
+
+CLEoNn, Pericles. 
+
+CLEOPATRA, QUEEN OF 
+Ecypt, Ant. & Cleop. 
+
+Cuirrorp, Lorp, 2 & 3 Hen. 
+Vi. 
+
+CuirForD, Younc, 2 Hen. 
+VI. 
+
+Cuitus, Jul. Ces. 
+
+CLOTEN, Cymbeline, 
+
+Coswes, Mids. N. Dr. 
+
+CoLEVILLE, Sir JoHN, 2 Hen. 
+IV. 
+
+Cominius, Coriolanus. 
+
+ConrabE, Much Ado. 
+
+CONSTABLE OF FRANCE, THE, 
+Hen. V. 
+
+Constance, K. John. 
+
+CorbE.ia, K. Lear. 
+
+Corin, As You Like It. 
+
+CorioLanus, Caius Marcius, 
+Coriolanus, 
+
+CorNELIUs, Cymbeline. 
+
+CornELius, Hamlet. 
+
+CornwaLL, Duxe or, K. 
+Lear. 
+
+CostTarp, Love's L. L. 
+
+Court, Hen. V. 
+
+CourTEzAN, A, Com. of Exr. 
+
+CRANMER, ARCHBISHOP OF 
+CANTERBURY, Hen. VIII. 
+
+CressipA, Troilus. 
+
+CroMWELL, Hen. VIII. 
+
+Cupp, Timon. 
+
+Curan, K. Lear: 
+
+Curio, Twelfth Night. 
+
+Curtis, Tam. of Shrew. 
+
+CYMBELINE, KING oF Brit- 
+AIN, Cymbeline. 
+
+
+Darpanius, Jul, Ces; 
+
+
+| Davy, 2 Hen. IV. 
+
+
+bE Burcu, Huperrt, K. John. 
+Decius Brutus, Jul. Ces. 
+DeipHosus, Troilus. 
+Demetrius, Ant. & Cleop. 
+Demetrius, Mids. N. Dr. 
+Demetrius, Tit. Andr. 
+Dennis, As You Like It. 
+
+
+1335 
+
+
+Denny, Sir Antuony, Hen. 
+VIII. 
+
+Dersy, Eart or, Rich. III. 
+
+Dercetas, Ant. & Cleop. 
+
+DespEmona, Othello. 
+
+Diana, All's Well. 
+
+Diana, Pericles. 
+
+Dick THE ButcuHer, 2 Hen. 
+VI. 
+
+Diomepes, Ant. & Cleop. 
+
+DioMeEDEs, Tyoilus. 
+
+Dion, Winter's T. 
+
+Dionyza, Pericles. 
+
+Docperry, Much Ado. 
+
+DoraBetia, Ant. & Cleop. 
+
+Domitius ENnoparsus, Ant. 
+& Cleop. 
+
+Donavsain, Macbeth. 
+
+Dorcas, Winter's T. 
+
+Dorset, Marquess oF, Rich. 
+Il. 
+
+Doucias, Ear. or, | Hen. 
+IV, 
+
+Dromio of Epuesus, Com. 
+of Err, 
+
+Dromio or Syracusk, Com. 
+of Err. 
+
+Duke, THE, As You Like It. 
+
+Dutt, Love's L. L. 
+
+DumaineE, Love's L._L. 
+
+Duncan, KING or ScoTLaNnp> 
+
+
+Macbeth. 
+
+
+Epear, K. Lear. 
+
+Epmunp, K. Lear. 
+
+Epmunp, Ear or RuTLAND, 
+3 Hen. VI. 
+
+EpmuNp oF LANGLEY, DUKE 
+oF York, Rich. Ik. 
+
+Epwarp, Ear. or Marcu 
+(afterwards Epwarp IV), 
+2 & 3 Hen. VI, Rich. III. 
+
+Epwarp, Prince of WALES, 
+3 Hen. VI. 
+
+Epwarp, Prince or WALES 
+(afterwards Epwarp V), 
+Rich. III. 
+
+Eceus, Mids. N. Dr. 
+
+EcLamour, Two G. of Ver. 
+
+Ex.sow, Meas. for Meas. 
+
+ELEANOR, DucHEss OF 
+GtoucesTer, 2 Hen. VI. 
+
+
+-ELinor, QUEEN, K. John. 
+
+
+ELizaABETH, QUEEN To Ep. 
+warp IV, Rich. III. 
+
+Exy, Bisuop or, Hen. V. 
+
+Emivia, Othello. 
+
+EME iA, Winter's T. 
+
+
+INDEX OF CHARACTERS 
+
+
+1320 
+
+Enoparsus, Domitius, Ant. 
+& Cleop. 
+
+Eros, Ant. & Cleop. 
+
+ERPINGHAM, SiR THOMAS, 
+Hen. V. 
+
+
+Esca.us, Meas. for Meas. 
+
+EscaLus, Rom. & Jul. 
+
+Escanes, Pericles. 
+
+Essex, Earv or, K. John. 
+
+Eupuronius, Ant. & Cleop. 
+
+Evans, Sir Hucu, Merry 
+Wives. 
+
+Exeter, DuKE oF, Hen. V, 
+1 & 3 Hen. VI. 
+
+
+FaBiAN, Twelfth Night. 
+FatstaFF, Sir JoHN, | & 2 
+Hen. IV, Merry Wives. 
+
+Fane, 2 Hen. IV. 
+FasToLFeE, Sir JoHN, | Hen. 
+
+
+Fautconsripce, Lapy, K. 
+John. 
+
+FAULCONBRIDGE, Puiuip, K. 
+John. 
+
+FAULCONBRIDGE, RoserT, K.. 
+John. 
+
+FeeBLe, 2 Hen. IV. 
+
+Fenton, Merry Wives. 
+
+FERDINAND, Tempest. 
+
+FERDINAND, KING oF Na- 
+VARRE, Love's L. L. 
+
+Feste, Twelfth Night. 
+
+Fitzwater, | orp, Rich. II. 
+
+FLAMINIUS, Timon. 
+
+Friavius, Jul. Ces. 
+
+Fiavius, Timon. 
+
+FLeance, Macbeth, 
+
+FLorence, Duke orf, All's 
+Well. 
+
+FiorizeL, Winter's T. 
+
+FLUELLEN, Hen. V. 
+
+Fiute. Mids. N. Dr. 
+
+Foot, K. Lear. 
+
+Forp, Merry Wives. 
+
+Forp, Mistress, 
+Wives. 
+
+Forester, Love's L. L. 
+
+Fortinpras, Hamlet. 
+
+FRANCE, CONSTABLE OF, Hen. 
+V 
+
+
+Merry 
+
+
+France, Kinc oF, All's 
+Well. 
+
+France, Kine or, K. Lear. 
+
+France, Princess or, L.L.L. 
+
+Francis, Friar, Much Ado. 
+
+Francisca, Meas. for Meas. 
+
+Francisco. Hamlet. 
+
+
+Francisco, Tempest. 
+Freperick, As You Like It. 
+FrotH, Meas. for Meas. 
+
+
+GaDsHILL, | Hen. IV. 
+
+Ga..us, Ant. & Cleop. 
+
+GarDINER, BisHop oF WIN- 
+CHESTER, Hen. VIII. 
+
+GarcrRAVE, Sik Tuomas, | 
+Hen, VI. 
+
+GaunT, JoHN oF, DUKE OF 
+LancastTER, Rich. II. 
+
+GeorcE, DuKE oF C1ar- 
+ENCE, 3 Hen. VI, Rich. 
+
+
+III. 
+GERTRUDE, QUEEN OF DEN- 
+MARK, Hamlet. 
+
+Guost oF HAMLET’s FATHER, 
+Hamlet. 
+GLANSDALE, 
+1 Hen. 
+GLENDOWER, OWEN, | Hen. 
+
+IV. 
+
+
+Sir WiItiaM, 
+
+
+GLOUCESTER, 
+Rich. II. 
+GLouceEsTER, ELEANOR, Du- 
+CHEss OF, 2 Hen. VI. 
+GLouceEsTER, Eart or, K. 
+
+ear. 
+
+GLOUCESTER, Humpnurey, 
+Duke oF, 2 Hen. IV, Hen. 
+V, 1 & 2 Hen. VI. 
+
+Gioucester, RicHarp, DUKE 
+OF (afterwards RICHARD 
+III), 3 Hen. VI, Rich. III. 
+
+Gosso, LauNceLoT, M. of 
+
+en. 
+
+Gosso, Op, M. of Ven. 
+
+GorFrE, MaTTHEw, 2 Hen. VI. 
+
+GoneriL, K. Lear. 
+
+GonzaLo, Tempest. 
+
+Gower, 2 Hen. IV. 
+
+Gower, Hen. V. 
+
+Gower, Pericles. 
+
+Granppre, Hen. V. 
+
+GraTIANo, M. of Ven. 
+
+GraTIANO, Othello. 
+
+GraveEDIGGERS, Hamlet. 
+
+GreeEN, Rich. II. 
+
+Grecory, Rom. & Jul. 
+
+Cremio, Tam. of Shrew. 
+
+Grey, Lapy, 3 Hen. VI. 
+
+Grey, Lorp. Rich. III. 
+
+Grey, Sir THomas. Hen. V. 
+
+GrirFitH, Hen. VIII. 
+
+Grumio, Tam. of Shrew. 
+
+Guwerius, Cymbeline. 
+
+; GUILDENSTERN, Hamlet. 
+
+
+DucHESs oF, 
+
+
+GuILprorp, Sir Henry, Hen. 
+VIII. 
+Gurney, JAMEs, K. John, 
+
+
+Ham_et, Prince oF DeEn- 
+MARK, Hamlet. 
+
+Harcourt, 2 Hen. IV. 
+
+HarFLEurR, GOVERNOR OF, 
+Hen. V. 
+
+Hastincs, Lorp, 2 Hen. IV. 
+
+Hastincs, Lorp, 3 Hen. VI, 
+Rich. III. 
+
+Hecate, Macbeth. 
+
+Hector, Troilus. 
+
+HELEN, Cymbeline. 
+
+HELEN, Troilus. 
+
+HELENA, All's Well. 
+
+He ena, Mids. N. Dr. 
+
+HELENus, Troilus. 
+
+He ticanus, Pericles. 
+
+Henry BotincBroxeE (after- 
+wards Henry IV), Rich. 
+II, 1 & 2 Hen. IV. 
+
+Henry, Prince oF WALEs 
+(afterwards Henry V), ! 
+& 2 Hen. IV, Hen. V. 
+
+Henry VI, 1, 2&3 Hen. VI. 
+
+Henry, Eart or RIcHMOND 
+(afterwards Henry VII), 
+3 Hen. VI, Rich. III. 
+
+Henry VIII, Hen. VIII. 
+
+Henry, Prince, K. John. 
+
+Seat Sir WALTER, Rich. 
+
+Hernia, Mids. N. Dr. 
+
+HerMIonE, Winter's T. 
+
+Hero, Much Ado. 
+
+Hippotyta, Mids. N. Dr. 
+
+Ho ianp, JoHn, 2 Hen. VI. 
+
+Ho orernes, Love's L. L. 
+
+Horatio, Hamlet. 
+
+Horner, THomas, 2 Hen. VI. 
+
+Hortensio, Tam. of Shrew. 
+
+Hortensius, Timon. “9 
+
+Host, Two G. of Ver. 
+
+Host oF THE GarTER INN, 
+Merry Wives. _ 
+
+Hostess, Tam. of Shrew. 
+
+Hotspur (Henry Percy), 
+Rich. II, | Hen. 1V 
+
+Husert pe Burcu, K. John. 
+
+Hume, Jonn, 2 Hen. VI. 
+
+Humpurey, Duke or GLou- 
+CESTER, 2 Hen. IV, Hen, 
+V, | & 2 Hen. VI. 
+
+
+PrSese Qe! ns 
+
+
+HUNTSMEN, Tam. of Shrew. _ 
+
+
+Hymen, As You Like It. 
+
+
+IAcHIMo, Cymbeline. 
+
+
+INDEX OF CHARACTERS 
+
+
+1321 
+
+
+laco, Othello. 
+
+IpEN, ALEXANDER, 2 Hen. VI. 
+
+IMoGEN, Cymbeline. 
+
+Tras, Ant. & Cleop. 
+
+Irts, Tempest. 
+
+IsaABEL, QUEEN OF FRANCE, 
+Hen. V. 
+
+IsABELLA, Meas. for Meas. 
+
+
+Jack Cape, 2 Hen. VI. 
+
+Jamy, Hen. V. 
+
+JAQUENETTA, Love's L. L. 
+
+Jaques, As You Like It. 
+
+Jaques pve Boys, As You 
+Like It. 
+
+Jessica, M. of Ven. 
+
+Joan LA PucELLe (Joan of 
+Arc), | Hen. VI. 
+
+Joun, Don, Much Ado. 
+
+JoHN, Friar, Rom. & Jul. 
+
+Jonn, Kine, K. John. 
+
+JoHN oF GaunT, DUKE oF 
+Lancaster, Rich. II. 
+
+Joun oF Lancaster, | & 2 
+Hen. IV. 
+
+Jourpain, Marcery, 2 Hen. 
+
+
+VI. 
+Juia, Two G. of Ver. 
+Jutet, Meas. for Meas. 
+Juiet, Rom. & Jul. 
+Jurrus Caesar, Jul. Ces. 
+Junius Brutus, Coriolanus. 
+Juno, Tempest. 
+
+
+KATHARINA, Tam. of Shrew. 
+KATHARINE, Love's L. L. 
+KaTHARINE, PRINcEss, Hen. 
+
+
+KATHARINE, QUEEN, Hen. 
+VIH. 
+Kent, Ear or, K. Lear. 
+
+
+Laertes, Hamlet. 
+
+Lareu, All’s Well. 
+
+LANCASTER, DUKE orf, Rich. 
+II 
+
+
+Lancaster, JOHN oF, | & 2 
+Hen. IV. 
+Lartius, Titus, Corolianus. 
+Launce, Two G. of Ver. 
+LauNncELot Gosso, M. of 
+en, 
+LAURENCE, FRIAR, Rom. & 
+
+
+ul. 
+LavacH_, All's Well. 
+Lavinia, Tit. Andr. 
+Lear, Kine oF Britain, K. 
+
+
+Lear. 
+Le Beau, As You Like It. 
+
+
+Lena, Popiius, Jul. Ces. 
+
+LENNox, Macbeth. 
+
+Leonarpo, M. of Ven. 
+
+Leonato, Much Ado. 
+
+Leonatus, PosTHUMUS, 
+Cymbeline. 
+
+LEoNnINE, Pericles. 
+
+LEonTEs, Winter's T. 
+
+Lepipus, M. /Emitius, Jul. 
+Ces., Ant. & Cleop. 
+
+Lewis, THE DauPHIN, K. 
+John. 
+
+Lewis, THE DAUPHIN, Hen. 
+Vv. 
+
+
+Lewis, THE ELEVENTH, KING 
+OF France, 3 Hen. VI. 
+
+Licarius, Jul. Ces. 
+
+Lincotn, BisHop oF, Hen. 
+VIII. 
+
+Lopovico, Othello. 
+
+Lonpvon, Lorp Mayor or, 
+Rich. III. 
+
+LoncaviLLe, Love's L. L. 
+
+Lorp, A, Tam. of Shrew. 
+
+Lorp CuieFr Justice, 2 Hen. 
+IV 
+
+
+Lorp MarsHa tt, Rich. II. 
+
+Lorenzo, M, of Ven. 
+
+Lovet, Lorp, Rich. III. 
+
+LoveELL, Sir Tuomas, Hen. 
+VIII. 
+
+Luce, Com. of Err. 
+
+Lucentio, Tam. of Shrew. 
+
+Lucetta, Two G. of Ver. 
+
+Luciana, Com. of Err. 
+
+Lucitius, Jul. Ces. 
+
+Lucitius, Timon. 
+
+Lucio, Meas. for Meas. 
+
+Lucius, Jul. Ces. 
+
+Lucius, Timon. 
+
+Lucius, Tit. Andr. 
+
+Lucius, Carus, Cymbeline. 
+
+Lucius, Youne, Tit. Andr. 
+
+LucuL.us, Timon. 
+
+Lucy, Sir Wituiam, | Hen. 
+Vi. 
+
+
+Lycnoripa, Pericles. 
+
+Lymoces, DuKE or AusTRIA, 
+K. John. 
+
+Lysanpber, Mids. N. Dr. 
+
+LysIMACHUS, Pericles. 
+
+
+Macsetu, Macbeth. 
+Macs_etH, L.apy, Macbeth, 
+Macpurr, Macbeth. 
+Macourr, Lapy, Macbeth. 
+Macmorris, Hen. V. 
+Matcoim, Macbeth. 
+Matvotio, Twelfth Night. 
+
+
+Mami..ius, Winter's T. 
+MarcabE, Love's L. L. 
+Marc Antony, Ant. & Cieop. 
+MarceL.us, Hamlet. 
+Marcu, EpmMuND MortTIMER, 
+Eart or, | Hen. IV, i 
+Hen. VI. 
+Marcu, Epwarp, EARL oF 
+(afterwards Epwarp IV), 
+2 & 3 Hen. VI, Rich, III. 
+Marcius, YouNG,Coriolanus. 
+Marcus ANpronicus, Tit. 
+Andr, 
+Marcus ANnTONIUS, Jul. Ces. 
+Marcus Brutus, Jul. Ces. 
+Marpian, Ant. & Cleop. 
+MarcarRELon, Troilus. 
+Marcaret, Much Ado. 
+MarcareT, QuEEN, I, 2, & 
+3 Hen. VI, Rich. III. 
+MarcaRET PLANTAGENET, 
+Lapy, Rich. III. 
+Maria, Love's L. L. 
+Mania, Twelfth Night. 
+Mariana, All's Well. 
+Mariana, Meas. for Meas. 
+Marina, Pericles. 
+
+
+Marx Antony, Ant. & 
+Cleop. 
+
+MartTexT, Sir Otiver, As 
+You Like It. 
+
+
+Maartius, Tit. Andr. 
+Marut.us, Jul. Cas. 
+Mecazenas, Ant. & Cleop. 
+Me un, K. John. 
+Menas, Ant. & Cleop. 
+Menecrates, Ant. & Cleop. 
+MENELAUusS, Troilus. 
+MENENIUus AcrippA, Coriol. 
+MenteE:TH, Macbeth. 
+MercuantT, A, Com. of Err. 
+Mercutio, Rom. & Jul. 
+MessaLa, Jul. Ces. 
+METELLUus CIMBER, Jul. Ces. 
+Micwae_, 2 Hen. VI. 
+MicHaeEL, Sir, | Hen. IV. 
+Mian, DuKE oF, Two G., of 
+er. 
+Miranpa, Tempest. 
+MontacuE, Rom. & Jul. 
+MontacuE, Lapy, Rom. & 
+ul. 
+Mon TacuE, 
+3 Hen. VI. 
+Montano, Othello. 
+Montcomery, Sir JoHN, 3 
+Hen. VI. 
+Montyoy, Hen. V. 
+Mopsa, Winter's T- 
+
+
+MarQuEss OF, 
+
+
+{322 
+
+
+INDEX OF CHARACTERS 
+
+
+—— rr 8 a 
+
+
+OveRDONE, Mistress, Meas.| PHRynia, Timon. 
+
+
+Morcan. Cymbeline. 
+
+Morocco, Prince or, M. of 
+Ven. 
+
+Mortimrr, Epmunp, Eari 
+oF Marcu, | Hen. IV, 1 
+Hen. VI. 
+
+Mortimer, Lapy, | Hen. IV. 
+
+
+Mortimer, Sir- Hucn, 3 
+Hen. VI. 
+
+Mortimer, Sir Joun, 3 
+Hen. VI. 
+
+
+Morton, 2 Hen. IV. 
+Morton, JoHN, BisHoPp oF 
+Exy, Rich. II. 
+Motu (a page), Love's L. L. 
+MotH (a fairy), Mids. N. Dr. 
+Mou_py, 2 Hen. IV. 
+Mowsray, THomas, DuKE 
+or NorFotk, Rich. II. 
+Mowpray, Lorp, 2 Hen. IV. 
+Mustarp-sEEp, Mids. N. Dr. 
+Mutius, Tit. Andr. 
+
+
+NATHANIEL, Sir, Love's L. L. 
+
+Nerissa, M. of Ven. 
+
+Nestor, Troilus. 
+
+Nicanor, Coriolanus, : 
+
+Norro.tk, Duxes orf, Rich. 
+II, 3 Hen. VI, Rich. IIT, 
+Hen. VIII. 
+
+NorTHUMBERLAND, Ear- oF, 
+3 Hen. 
+
+
+NoRTHUMBERLAND, HENRY 
+Percy, Ear of, Rich. II, 
+1] & 2 Hen. IV. 
+
+NorTHUMBERLAND, Lapy, 2 
+Hen. IV 
+
+NorTHUMBERLAND, SIWARD, 
+
+
+EarL OF, Macbeth. 
+Nurse, Rom. & Jul. 
+Nym, Hen. V, Merry Wives. 
+
+
+Oberon, Mids. N. Dr. 
+
+Ocravia, Ant. & Cleop. 
+
+Ocravius Cesar, Jul. Cas., 
+Ant. & Cleop. 
+
+Ouiver, As You Like It. 
+
+Ouivia, Twelfth Night. 
+
+OPHELIA, Hamlet. 
+
+Orvanpo, As You Like It. 
+
+Or.eANs, Bastarp oF, 1 
+Hen. VI. 
+
+Orveans, Duke oF, Hen. V. 
+
+Or.eaNs, Master-GuNNER 
+oF, | Hen. VI. 
+
+Orsino, DuKeE oF ILLyria, 
+Twelfth Night. 
+
+Osric, Hamlet. 
+
+Oswa p, K. Lear. 
+
+OTHELLO, tHE Moor, Othello. 
+
+
+for Meas. 
+Oxrorp, Eart or, 3 Hen. 
+VI, Rich. III. 
+
+
+Pace, A, All’s Well. 
+Pace, A, Tam. of Shrew. 
+Pace, ANNE, Merry Wives. 
+
+
+Pace, Mr., Merry Wives. 
+
+Pace, Mistress, Merry 
+Wives. 
+
+Pace, Wituiam, Merry 
+Wives. 
+
+Panpar, A, Pericles. 
+
+Panparus, Troilus. 
+
+PANDULPH, CarpinaL, K. 
+John. 
+
+
+PaNTHINO, Two G. of Ver. 
+
+Paris, Rom. & Jul. 
+
+Paris, Troilus. 
+
+Paris, Governor oF, | Hen, 
+VI 
+
+
+ParoLtes, All's Well. 
+Patience, Hen. VIII. | 
+Patrocius, Troilus. 
+PauLina, Winter's T. 
+PEASE-BLOssom, Mids, N. Dr. 
+PEDANT, Tam. of Shrew. 
+Pepro, Don, Much Ado. 
+
+
+rire or Exton, Sir, Rich. 
+
+Pincn, Com. of Err. 
+
+Pinparus, Jul. Ces. 
+
+Pisano, Cymbeline. 
+
+Pisto, 2 Hen. IV, Hen, V, 
+Merry Wives. 
+
+
+PLANTAGENET, Lapy Mar- 
+GARET, Rich. III. 
+PLANTAGENET, RICHARD 
+
+
+(afterwards Duke of York), 
+
+
+1, 2, & 3 Hen. VI. 
+Prayers, Hamlet. 
+Payers, Tam. of Shrew. 
+Pons, | & 2 Hen. IV. 
+Pouixenes, Winter's T. 
+Potonius, Hamlet. 
+PotyporeE, Cymbeline. 
+Pompeius, Sextus, Ant. & 
+
+Cleop. 
+
+Pompey, Meas. for Meas, 
+Popitius Lena, Jul. Ces. 
+Portia, Jul. Ces. 
+
+Portia, M. of Ven. . 
+
+
+PostHuMuS LEOoNaTUs, 
+Cymbeline. i 
+
+Priam, Kine oF Troy, Troi- 
+lus. 
+
+
+PemsroKE, Ear or, K.John, | Procurerus, Ant. & Cleop. 
+
+
+3 Hen. VI 
+Percy, Henry, EARL oF 
+NorTHUMBERLAND, Rich. 
+
+
+II, | & 2 Hen. IV. 
+Percy, Henry (Hotspur), 
+Rich. II, 1 Hen. IV. 
+Percy, Lapy, 1 & 2 Hen. IV. 
+Percy, Tuomas, Eart oF 
+Worcester, | Hen. IV. 
+Perpita, Winter's T. 
+PERICLES, PRINCE OF TyRE, 
+Pericles. 
+Peter, 2 Hen. VI. 
+Peter, Rom. & Jul. 
+PETER (a friar), Meas. for 
+eas. 
+
+
+PETER OF Pomrret, K. John. | RaTcuirr, 
+
+
+Peto, | & 2 Hen. IV. 
+PETRUCHIO, Tam. of Shrew. 
+PuHesE, As You Like It. 
+Puivario, Cymbeline. 
+PHILEMON, Pericles. 
+
+
+ProsPERO, Tempest. 
+Proteus, Two G. of Ver. 
+Provost, Meas. for Meas. 
+Pustius, Jul. Cas. 
+Pustius, Tit. Andr. 
+Puck, Mids. N. Dr. 
+
+
+QUEEN, Cymbeline. 
+
+QueEEN, Rich. II. 
+
+QuicxLy. Mistress, 1 & 2 
+Hen. IV, Hen. V, Merry 
+Wives. 
+
+Quince, Mids. N. Dr. 
+
+Quintus, Tit. Andr, 
+
+Ramsures, Hen. V 
+
+Sir 
+Rich. III. 
+
+Recan, K. Lear. 
+
+REIGNIER, DUKE 
+1. Hen. VI. 
+
+REyYNa_po, Hamlet. 
+
+
+RIcHARD, 
+
+
+Puiwip, Kine or France, K.| Ricuarp II, Rich. II. 
+
+
+John. 
+Puitiep THE Bastarp, K. 
+
+
+John. 
+Puito, Ant. & Cleop. 
+PuitostraTe, Mids. N. Dr. 
+PuiLotus, Timon. 
+
+
+RicHarp, DuKE oF Gtou- 
+CESTER (afterwards RicH- 
+ARD III), 2 & 3 Hen. VI, 
+Rich. III. 
+
+RicHarD, DuKE oF York, 
+Rich. III. 
+
+
+or ANJou, ‘ 
+
+
+INDEX OF CHARACTERS 
+
+
+1323 
+
+
+RicHmonp, Henry, Eart or 
+(afterwards Henry VII), 
+3 Hen. VI, Rich. III. 
+
+Rivers, Lorp, 3 Hen. VI, 
+Rich. III. 
+
+Rosin, Merry Wives. 
+
+Rosin GoopreLtow, Mids. 
+
+. Yr. 
+
+Roperico, Othello. 
+
+Romeo, Rom. & Jul. 
+
+Rosauinp, As You Like It. 
+
+RosALine, Love's L. L. 
+
+RosENcRANTZ, Hamlet. 
+
+Ross, Macbeth. bea 
+
+Ross, Lorp, Rich. II. 
+
+RoTHERHAM, T Homas, ARCH- 
+BISHOP OF YoRK, Rich. III. 
+
+Rousitton, Countess oF, 
+All's well. 
+
+Ruesy, Merry Wives. 
+
+Rumovr, 2 Hen. IV. 
+
+
+a RuTLAND, EpmMuNnp, Ear oF, 
+
+
+3 Hen. VI. 
+
+
+St. Axsan’s, Mayor or, 2 
+Hen, VI. : 
+Sacanio, M. of Ven. 
+Sacarino, M. of Ven. 
+SALISBURY, Ear oF (Lonc- 
+SWORD), K. Jchn. 
+SALIsBuRY, Ears or, Rich. 
+II, Hen. V, 1 & 2'Hen. VI. 
+Sampson, Rom. & Jul. 
+Sanps, Lorp, Hen. VIII. 
+SATURNINUS, Tit. Andr. 
+Say, Lorp, 2 Hen. VI. 
+Sca.es, Lorp, 2 Hen. VI. 
+Scarus, Ant. & Cleop. 
+Scroop, Lorp, Hen. V. 
+Scroop, RicHarp, ARCH- 
+BISHOP OF YorK, | & 2 
+Hen. IV. 
+Scroop, Sir STEPHEN, Rich. 
+Il 
+
+
+Sea Captain, Twelfth Night. 
+SEBASTIAN, Tempest. 
+SEBASTIAN, Twelfth Night. 
+SeLeucus, Ant. & Cleop. 
+SEMPRONIUS, Timon, 
+Sempronius, Tit. Andr. 
+ServiLius, Timon. 
+
+Sexton, A, Much Ado. 
+
+
+_ Sextus Pomperus, Ant. & 
+
+
+head 
+
+
+Cleop. 
+Seyton, Macbeth. 
+Suapow, 2 Hen. IV. 
+SHa.tow, 2 Hen. IV, Merry 
+Wives. 
+SHIPMASTER, Tempest. 
+
+
+Suytock, M. of Ven. 
+
+Sicinitus Ve.utTus, Coriol. 
+
+Sitence, 2 Hen. IV. 
+
+Siius, Ant. & Cleop. 
+
+Sitvia, Two G. of Ver. 
+
+Sitvius, As You Like It. 
+
+Simonipes, Pericles. 
+
+Simpcox, 2 Hen. VI. 
+
+Simpce, Merry Wives. 
+
+Srwarp, Eart or NortHum- 
+BERLAND, Macbeth. 
+
+Srwarp, Youna, Macbeth. 
+
+SLENDER, Merry Wives. 
+
+Sty, CHRISTOPHER, Tam. of 
+
+hrew. 
+
+SMITH THE Weaver, 2 Hen. 
+
+VI 
+
+
+Snare, 2 Hen. IV. 
+
+Snout, Mids. N. Dr. 
+
+Snuc, Mids. N. Dr. 
+
+Souinus, Com. of Err. 
+
+Somerset, JoHN BEaurort, 
+Earv or, | Hen. VI 
+
+SomERSET, DuKE oF, 2 & 3 
+Hen. VI 
+
+SoMERVILLE, 
+
+en. VI. 
+SOUTHWELL, JoHN, 2 Hen. 
+
+
+Sir Joun, 3 
+
+
+SPEED, Two G. of Ver. 
+STAFFORD, Lorp, 3 Hen. VI. 
+STAFFoRD, Sik Humpurey, 
+2 Hen. VI. 
+STAFForD, WILLIAM, 2 Hen. 
+I 
+
+
+STANLEY, Lorp, Rich. III. 
+
+STanLey, Sir Joun, 2 Hen. 
+VI. 
+
+STANLEY, Sir Wituiam, 3 
+Hen. * 
+
+
+STaRVELING, Mids. N. Dr. 
+
+STEPHANO, M. of Ven. 
+
+STEPHANO, Tempest. 
+
+STewarp, All’s Well. 
+
+Strato, Jul. Ces. 
+
+SuFFoLK, DuxeE orf, 2 Hen. 
+VI. 
+
+SurFro_k, Duke or, Hen. 
+VIII. 
+
+SurFoLk, Eart or, | Hen. 
+VI. 
+
+Surrey, DuKE oF, Rich. II. 
+
+Surrey, Earus or, 2 Hen. 
+IV, Rich. III, Hen. VIII. 
+
+
+TacsoT, Joun, | Hen. VI. 
+Tavsot, Lorp, | Hen. VI. 
+Tamora, Tit. Andr. 
+Taurus, Ant. & Cleox. 
+
+
+TEARSHEET, Dott,*2 Hen. 
+IV. 
+
+
+Tuaisa, Pericles. 
+
+THALIARD, Pericles. 
+
+THERsITES, Troilus, 
+
+Tueseus, Mids. N. Dr. 
+
+Tuomas, Meas. for Meas. 
+
+Tuomas, Duke oF CLaR- 
+ENCE, 2 Hen, IV. 
+
+TuHurio, Two G. of Ver, 
+
+Tuyreus, Ant. & Cleop. 
+
+TIMANDRA, Timon. 
+
+Timon, Timon. 
+
+Titania, Mids. N. Dr. 
+
+Tittus, Jul. Ces, 
+
+Titus, Timon. 
+
+Tirus  ANprRonicus, 
+Andr. 
+
+Titus Lartius, Coriolanus. 
+
+Be eee? As You Like 
+t. 
+
+Tower, LIEUTENANT OF THE, 
+3 Hen. VI. 
+
+Tranio, Tam. of Shrew, 
+
+Travers, 2 Hen. IV. 
+
+TREBONIUS, Jul: Cees, 
+
+TRESSEL, Rich. HI. 
+
+TRINCULO, Tempest. 
+
+TroiLus, Troilus, 
+
+Tusa, M. of Ven, 
+
+Tuxttus Auripius, Coriola- 
+nus, 
+
+Tysact, Rom. & Jul. 
+
+pSeacor Sir James, Rich. 
+
+
+Tit. 
+
+
+Utysses, Troilus. 
+
+Ursuta, Much Ado. 
+
+Urswick, CHRISTOPHER, 
+Rich. III. 
+
+
+VALENTINE, Tit. Andr. 
+
+VALENTINE, Twelfth Night. 
+
+VALENTINE, Two G, of Ver. 
+
+VALERIA, Coriolanus. 
+
+Varrius, Ant. & Cleop. 
+
+Varrius, Meas. for Meas. 
+
+Varro, Jul. Ces. 
+
+VauGcHaN, Sir THomas, Rich. 
+III. 
+
+Vaux, 2 Hen. VI. 
+
+Vaux. Sir NicHoras, Hen. 
+VIII. 
+
+VELuTus, Sicinius, Coriola- 
+nus, 
+
+VENICE, Duke oF. M. of Ven. 
+
+Venice, Duke oF, Othello. 
+
+
+Ventipius, Ant. & Cleop. 
+| Yentipius, Timon, 
+
+
+1324 INDEX 
+
+
+VercEs, Much Ado. 
+VERNON, | Hen, VI. 
+VERNON, Sir RICHARD, | 
+Hen. IV. 
+VINCENTIO, Meas. for Meas. 
+VINCENTIO, Tam. of Shrew. 
+VioLa, Twelfth Night. 
+VIOLENTA, All's Well. 
+VirGILiA, Coriolanus. 
+VoLTIMAND, Hamlet. 
+VoLuMnIA, Coriolanus. 
+VoLUMNIUS, Jul. Ces. 
+
+
+Wa ces, Epwarp, PRINCE oF, 
+3 Hen. VI. 
+
+Waces, Epwarp, PRINCE OF 
+(afterwards Epwarp V), 
+Rich III. 
+
+Waces, Henry, PRINCE oF 
+(afterwards HENry V), 
+& 2 Hen. IV. 
+
+Wart, 2 Hen. IV. 
+
+
+INDEX OF FIRST 
+
+
+A cup of wine that’s brisk and fine . P . 
+All that glisters is not gold 5 c 
+An old hare hoar, and an old hare hoar A ‘ 
+
+
+‘And let me the canakin clink, clink . = 
+
+
+And will he not come again? 
+Art thou god to shepherd turn ’d 
+
+
+Warwick, Earts or, 2 Hen. 
+IV, Hen. V, 1, 2, & 3 Hen. 
+VI. 
+
+WESTMINSTER, 
+Rich. II. 
+
+WESTMORELAND, EaRLs OF, 
+1 & 2 Hen. IV, Hen. V, 
+3 Hen. VI. 
+
+Wuitmore, Wa ter, 2 Hen. 
+VI. 
+
+Winow, A, Tam. of Shrew. 
+
+Winow, Obp, All's Well. 
+
+Wixuiam, As You Like It. 
+
+
+ABBOT OF, 
+
+
+-Wituiams, Hen. V 
+
+
+Wittoucsey, Lorp, Rich. 
+
+I 
+
+WittsHire, SHERIFF OF, 
+Rich. III. 
+
+WINCHESTER, BEAUFORT 
+(CarpiNAL), BisHoP oF, 
+1 & 2 Hen. VI. 
+
+Wotsey, CarpinaL, Hen. 
+VIII. 
+
+
+©. C) eo eke las) apie 
+
+
+Be merry, be merry, my wife has all . ‘ 
+
+Blow, blow, thou winter wind . A “| . 
+
+But shall I go mourn for that, my dear? . ; 5 5 . 
+Come away, come away, death ; “ . A x 
+Come, thou monarch of the vine 5 ° 3 . 4 
+Come unto these yellow sands . e . 
+
+Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye. $ A 
+
+Do nothing but eat, and make good cheer . : 4 
+
+Done to death by ’slanderous tongues 5 A 
+
+
+Fear no more the heat o’ oie sun 5 : a 7 . 
+
+
+Fie on sinful fantasy 
+Fill the cup, and let it come 
+Flout *em, and scout ’em 
+
+
+Fools had ne’er less wit in a year 
+
+
+For I the ballad will repeat 
+rom the east to. western Ind 
+Full fathom five thy father lies 
+
+
+Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing 
+
+
+Get you hence, for I must go 
+
+
+Hark, hark! the lark at heaven’s gate sings 
+He that has and a little tiny wit 
+
+
+Honour, riches, 
+
+
+marriage-blessing 
+
+
+How should I your true love know 
+
+
+Iam gone, sir. 
+
+I may command where 'T adore 
+If a hart do lack a hind 
+
+If it do come to pass 
+
+
+If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love? 
+Immortal gods, I crave no pelf . - 
+In youth, when I did love, did love 
+
+
+It was a lover and his lass 
+
+
+Tog on, jog on, the foot-path way 
+
+
+OF FIRST LINES OF SONNETS 
+
+
+Woopvitte, LIEUTENANT OF 
+THE Tower, | Hen. VI. 
+Worcester, Ear or, | Hen. 
+
+IV. 
+
+
+York, RicHarp  Scroop, 
+ARCHBISHOP OF, | & 2 
+Hen. IV. 
+
+York, THomas RoTHERHAM, 
+ArcHBISHOP OF, Rich. III. 
+
+York, Ducuess or, Rich. II. 
+
+York, Ducuess oF, Rich. III. 
+
+York, Duke oF, Rich. II. 
+
+York, Duke oF, Hen. V. 
+
+York, RicHarp, DuKE or, 
+Rich, III. 
+
+York, RicHarD PLANTAGE- 
+Aree Duke oF, 2 & 3 Hen. 
+VI. 
+
+York, Mayor or, 3 Hen. VL 
+
+Younc Cato, Jul. Ces. 
+
+Younc CLirrorp, 2 Hen. VJ- 
+
+Younc Siwarp, Macbeth. 
+
+
+LINES OF SONNETS 
+
+
+PAGE 
+2 Hen. IV 
+M. of Ven. 
+Rom. & Jul. 
+Othello 
+Hamlet . 5 
+As You Like It 5 
+2 Hen. IV y 
+As You Like Tt 5 ¥ 
+Winter's 1s 5 . 
+Twelfth Night i : 
+Ant. & Cleop. ie . 
+Tempest 3 i 
+Love’s L. L, i : 
+2 Hew, IV F 
+Much Ado . J = 
+Cymb. . ¥ : 
+Merry Wives” ‘ 
+2), Fen. LV 
+Tempest 
+K. Lear 
+All’s Well. 
+As You Like It 
+Tempest 
+Troilus 
+Winter’s T. 
+Cymb. 
+K. Lear 
+Tempest 
+Hamlet . 
+Twelfth Night 
+Twelfth Night 
+As You Like It 
+As You Like It 
+Love’s L. Li: 
+Timon 
+Hamlet 
+As You Like It 
+Winter’s T. 
+
+
+INDEX OF FIRST LINES OF SONNETS 
+
+
+Jove knows I love epg 
+
+King Stephen was a worthy peer : : e 
+Knocks go and come; God’s vassals drop and die 
+Lawn as white as driven snow . 2 : ° 
+Love, love, nothing but love, still more! . : 
+My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly 
+No more dams I ’ll make for fish . : - 
+Now my charms are all o’erthrown . = - 
+O heart, heavy heart 3 é . 
+
+O mistress mine, where are you roaming? 
+
+O sweet Oliver 
+
+
+On a day—alack the day! . E P . 
+
+Orpheus with his lute made tree < . 
+Over hill, over dale. ‘ F 5 é a 
+Pardon, goddess of the night . . 7 : 
+Peace, ho! I bar confusion - ‘ ‘ p 
+
+
+Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more . 
+
+Sleepest or wakest thou, jolly shepherd? 
+
+So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not 
+
+S. Withold footed thrice the old 5 
+
+Take, O take those lips away 
+
+Tell me where is fancy bred 
+
+The fire seven times tried this 
+
+The god of love * 5 ; . A 
+
+The master, the swabber, the boatswain and I 
+
+The ousel cock, so black of hue . 
+
+The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree 
+
+The -aging -ocks : 5 . 4 : 
+
+Vhen is there mirth in heaven 
+
+Then they for sudden joy did weep 
+
+They bore him barefaced on the bier 
+
+Thine own true knight : : 
+
+ao shallow rivers, to whose falls 
+
+To-morrow is Saint Valentine’s day 
+
+Under the greenwood tree ; 
+
+Was this fair tace the cause, quoth she 
+
+Wedding is great Juno’s crown . s 
+
+What shall he have that kill’d the deer? 
+
+When daffodils begin to peer F 
+
+When daisies pied and violets blue : 
+
+When griping grief the heart doth wound 
+
+When icicles hang by the wall . i 
+
+When that I was and a little tiny boy 
+
+Where the bee sucks, there suck I. > 
+ile you here do snoring lie . 
+
+Who doth ambition shun 
+
+
+emekie) L853) Ltate tele eliy. “dt an aki ates fe 
+
+
+Bax) 
+
+
+Who is Silvia? what is she? . , 2 
+Why should this a desert be? . : . 
+Will you buy any tape A ‘ = 
+You must sing a-down a-down . = a 
+
+
+Ph Ge “eateas, orter ene 
+
+
+You spotted snakes with double tongu 5 
+You that choose not by the view : ° 
+
+
+Twelfth Night 
+Othello . 2 
+Hen. V 
+Winter’s T, 
+Troilus $ 
+Two G. of Ver. 
+Tempest . 
+Tempest 
+
+Troilus . A 
+Twelfth Night 
+As You Like It 
+Love’s L. L. 
+Hens: Vili” |: 
+Mids. N. Dr. . 
+Much Ado . 
+As You Like It 
+Much Ado . 
+
+
+Merry Wives . 
+Merry Wives . 
+Hamlet . 5 
+As You Like It 
+All’s Well ; 
+As You Like It 
+As You Like It 
+
+
+Winter’s T. . 
+Leve’s L. L. 
+Rom. & Jul. . 
+Love's Live 
+Twelfth Night 
+Tempest 
+
+Tempest 
+
+
+As You Like It 
+Two G. of Ver. 
+As You Like It 
+Wintcr’s T. 
+Hamlet 4 
+Mids. N. Dr. . 
+M. of Yen. 
+
+
+be eo oe 
+
+
+THE TEMPLE SHAKESPEARE NOTES . 
+
+
+The Tempest—Notes 
+
+
+I. i. 69. ‘long heath, brown furze;’ so the 
+Folios; Hanmer’s emendation has been gener- 
+ally accepted:—‘ ling, heath, broom, furze.’ 
+
+I. ii. roo. ‘Who having into truth;’ ‘into,’ 
+used in the sense of ‘unto,’ and so emended 
+in most editions; the sentence though very in- 
+volved is intelligible without any alteration; 
+“into truth’ depends upon ‘a sinner’; and 
+‘it’ refers vaguely to ‘his own lie’; ‘to 
+credit * = ‘as to credit.’ 
+
+I. ii. 169. ‘Now I arise;’ probably derived 
+from astrology; ‘now my star is in the as- 
+cendent;’ it should be noted that the stage 
+direction ‘Resumes his mantle’ is not in the 
+Folios. 
+
+I. ii. 266. ‘for one thing she did;’ Shake- 
+speare does. not tell us what he refers to here; 
+perhaps he merely added the point in order to 
+account for her preservation, or the incident 
+may have been mentioned in his original. 
+
+I. ii. 378, 379. ‘ Kiss’d the wild waves;’ so 
+the Folios, i.e., ‘Kissed the wild waves into 
+silence;’ often printed with a comma after 
+‘kissed.’ 
+
+II. i. 5. ‘The masters of some merchant;’ 
+t.e., ‘the owners of some merchantman ; : 
+Steevens suggested ‘mistress’ (old spelling 
+‘maistres’); the Cambridge editors ‘ master’s’ 
+(.e., ‘master’s wife ’> 3 
+
+Il. i. 27. ‘ which, -, we or Adrian;’ ‘he’ for 
+“him,’ used somewhat substantively, probably 
+owing to the use of the word in the previous 
+sentence, ‘he will be talking.’ 
+
+II. i. 35, 36. The Folios read: ‘ Seb. Ha, ha, 
+ha! Ant. So you’re paid.’ Theobald gives the 
+whole line to Sebastian; and his reading is 
+adopted by the Camb. ed. Possibly a better 
+emendation 1s the transposition of the prefixes 
+to the speeches; the point of the quibble is no 
+doubt the old proverb ‘ let them laugh that win.’ 
+Capell ingeniously suggested that the Folio 
+reading should stand with the slight change of 
+“you’ve paid’ for ‘ you’re paid.’ 
+
+II. i. 127. ‘who hath cause;’ the antecedent 
+of ‘who’ is most probably ‘she’; some make 
+the relative refer to ‘eye,’ i.e. ‘which hath 
+cause tc weep.’ 
+
+Il. i. 131. ‘should bow;’ 
+ingly unnecessary corrections have been made 
+e.g. ‘she’d bow;’ ‘which end the beam should 
+bow;’ the omission of the pronoun ‘it’ or 
+“she’ before ‘should’ can easily be paralleled 
+in Shakespeare. 
+
+Il. i. 243. “But doubt discovery there;’ i.e. 
+“Cannot but doubt that anything can be dis- 
+covered there.’ 
+
+II. i. 250. ‘She that from whom;’ the un- 
+necessary ‘that’ is perhaps intentionally re- 
+ped owing to the previous repetition of ‘ she 
+that. 
+
+II. i. 279. ‘ candied;’ generally explained as 
+“sugared over, and so insensible; ’ perhaps a 
+etter interpretation is ‘made sweet as sugar,’ 
+as in the phrase ‘the candied tongue.’ Is 
+
+
+so Folios; seem- 
+
+
+1328 
+
+
+Antonio | possibly playing on ‘candied’? and 
+
+
+‘candid’ (a word not yet fully naturalised in 
+
+the language, but probably familiar) ? , .¥ 
+Il. ii. 80. ‘2 will not take too much for ’ 
+
+him;? i.e. ‘I will take as much as I can pos- 
+sibly get.’ 
+
+
+ara 
+
+
+Il. ii. 176. ‘Scamels;’ not found elsewhere 
+in Shakespeare. Many emendations have been 
+made; staniel (a species of ‘hawk) has been 
+adopted by some editors; the word occurs prob- 
+ably in Twelfth Night (IT. v. 124), though - 
+the editions read ‘stallion? ‘Scamel’ is evi- 
+dently the name of a rock-breeding bird; Mr. _ 
+Wright has pointed out that, according to 
+Stevenson’s “Birds of Norfolk,” “the female 4 
+Bar-tailed Godwit is called a * Scamell’ by the 
+gunners of Blakeney.’ 4 
+
+Il. i, 15. ‘ Most busy lest, when I do fee 
+so the first Folio. Various readings have been _ 
+suggested; Pope, ‘least busy when I do it be 
+Theobald, ‘ most busie-less when I do it >; Holt, 
+“most busiest, when I do it’; Spedding ‘ most 
+husiest when idlest,’ &c., &e. It seems likely 
+that the reading of the second, third, and 
+fourth Folios throws light on the real meaning 
+of the line:—‘ most busy least, when I do it}? 
+t_e., ‘most busy when I indulge my thoughts, 
+Irast busy when I am actually at work. A 
+comma after ‘busy’ instead of after ‘least? 
+would simplify this reading, but it is possible 
+to understand it as punctuated in the Folios; 
+Shakespeare probably wished to make the su- 
+perlatives as antithetical as possible; perhaps 
+we should read ‘labour’ for ‘ labours.’ j 
+
+ITI. iii. 39.‘ Praise in departing;’? a pro 
+verbial expression; ‘stay your praises till you 
+see how your entertainment will end.” 
+
+IV. i, 64. ‘pioned and twilled;’ various 
+emendations have been suggested for these 
+eifficult words of the Folio:—‘peonied and . 
+vied,’ ‘tulip’d,’ ‘tilled,’ &c. It is noted that — 
+‘piony’ is an old spelling of “peony,” and that 
+the flower was formerly spoken of as ‘ the 
+mavden piony ’ and ‘ virgin peonie.’? In all prob- 
+ahility the meaning of the words has not yet 
+been discovered; they are evidently technical P 
+terms of horticulture. (Cp. Glossary.) a 
+
+IV. i. 110. Mr Wricht suggests that ‘ earths ” 
+chould be read as a dissyllable, ‘earthes’; the 
+second, third, and fourth Folios read ‘and? — 
+hefore ‘ foison.’ 
+
+TV. i, 147, &c. In The Tragedy of Darius, 
+hy William Alexander, afterwards Earl of Ste 
+‘ing, published in the year 1603, occurs the 
+following passage, which, according to Steevens, | 
+may have been the original of Shakespeare’s’ 
+Speech: 
+
+
+“Let greatnsse of her glascie sceptre vaunt: _ 
+Not scepters, no, but reeds, soone brus’d, soone 
+
+
+broken 
+And let this worldlie pomp our wits inchant. 
+All fades, and scarcelie leaues behind a token. 
+Those golden pallaces, those gorgeous halles — 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+1327 
+
+
+With fourniture superfluouslie faire: 
+
+, _. Those statelie courts, those sky-encountering 
+z walles 
+
+__  Evanish all like vapours in the aire.” 
+
+; IV. i. 193. The Folios read ‘hang on them.’ 
+
+et IV. i. 221. ‘O King Stephano! O Peer!’ an 
+allusion to the old song, often referred to in 
+
+Elizabethan’ literature, ‘‘ Take thy old cloak 
+about thee ’’:— 
+
+
+“King Stephen was a worthy peere, 
+His breeches cost him but a crowne, 
+He held them sixpence all too deere; _ 
+Therefore he called the taylor Lowne.” 
+
+
+The ballad is printed in Percy’s Reliques; 
+
+
+ADraMaTis Personae. ‘ The names of all the 
+actors” are given at the end of the play in 
+the Folios; the form ‘ Protheus’ is invariably 
+used for ‘Proteus,’ ‘ Athonio’ for ‘ Antonio,’ 
+and ‘ Panthion’ for ‘ Pantbino.’ 
+
+I. i. 19. ‘On a love-book pray for my suc- 
+cess;’ an allusion to the Roman Catholic cus- 
+tom of placing the beads on the prayer-book, 
+and of counting the beads with the prayers. 
+“The Jove-book’ is in this case to take the 
+place of the prayer-book; some have sup- 
+osed that Shakespeare is here referring to 
+farluwe’s ‘Hero and Leand-r,’ which, how- 
+ever, though entered on the Stationers’ Regis- 
+ters in 1593, was not printed till 1598, after 
+which date many referenc~s occur to it in con- 
+temporary literature; Shakespeare _ directly 
+quotes from it in As you Like It, IV. i. 100. 
+
+I. ii. 53. ‘What fool is she;’ the first three 
+“Folios read ‘what ’fool is she,’ indicating the 
+omission of the ind-finite article, a not uncom- 
+mon Elizabethan idiom. 
+
+I. it. 137. ‘I see you have a month’s mind to 
+them;’ Schmidt in his ‘ Shakespeare Lexicon’ 
+explains the phrase ‘month’s mind’ as ‘a 
+
+-woman’s longing, as though the expression 
+had its origin in the longing for particular 
+articles of food shown by women, but this in- 
+terpretation seems to have no authority. John- 
+‘son rightly remarks on this passage:—‘ A 
+month’s mind, in the ritual sense, signifies 
+not desire or inclination, but remembrance; yet 
+I suppose this is the true original of expres- 
+sion.’ 
+
+I. iii. 27. ‘‘ Shakespeare has been guilty of 
+no mistake in placing the emperor’s court at 
+Milan. Several of the first German Emperors 
+held their courts there occasionally, it being at 
+that time their immediate property, and the 
+chief town of their Italian dominions.”— 
+STEEVENS. 
+
+Il. i. 38. ‘none else would;’ i.e. “no one 
+else would perceive them.’ 
+
+IT. i. 84. ‘to put on your hose;’ various sug- 
+gestions have been made for the emendation of 
+these words:—‘ to beyond your nose,’ ‘to put 
+spectacles on your nose,’ ‘to put on your 
+shoes,’ ‘to button your hose.’ It is not certain 
+that a rhyming couplet was intended. Prob- 
+
+q ably ‘ unable to see to put on one’s hose’ was 
+
+
+, 
+
+
+a! 
+
+
+Shakespeare quotes it also in Othello, II. iii. 
+92. 
+
+IV. i. 231. ‘ Let’s alone;’ some verb of mo- 
+tion must be understood, t.e., ‘ let us go alone’ 
+(leaving Trinculo behind); ‘alone’ is possibly 
+an error of the Folios for ‘along,’ as sug- 
+gested by Theobald. 
+
+IV. i. 237. “An allusion to what often hap- 
+pens to people who pass the line. The violent 
+fevers which they contract in that hot climate 
+make them lose their hair.’—STeevens. 
+
+V. i. 23-24. The first and second Folios place 
+a comma after ‘sharply,’ making ‘ passion’ a 
+verb; the comma is omitted in the third and 
+fourth Folios 
+
+V. i. 309. The line is to be read, according 
+to the Folios, ‘‘to see our dear _ belov’d 
+solémnizéd.” 
+
+
+The Two Gentlemen of Verona—Notes 
+
+
+a proverbial expression meaning ‘ unable to tell 
+which leg to put into one’s hose first,’ t.e. 
+“not to have one’s wits about one.’ 
+
+II. i. 175. ‘for in print I found it.’ Prob- 
+ably these lines are quoted from some old 
+ballad or play, though their source has not 
+yet been found. One cannot help thinking 
+that Shakespeare is quoting from some play 
+of the ‘Two Italian Gentlemen’ type; the re- 
+printed extracts contain passages strongly re- 
+minding one of these lines. 
+} II. ii. 30. ‘a wood wonan;’ the Folios read 
+a would woman;’ Theobald first changed 
+‘would’ into ‘wood’ (i.e. mad); others ‘an 
+ould (i.e. old) woman.’ 
+
+If. iv. 116. The Folios give this line to 
+“Thurio:’? if the reading be right, he must 
+have quitted the stage during the scene, prob- 
+ably immediately before the entrance of Pro- 
+teus, after line 99. 
+
+Il. iv. 130. ‘Whose high imperious thoughts 
+have punished me;’ Johnson proposed to read 
+‘those’ for ‘whose,’ as if the ‘imperious 
+thoughts’ are Valentine’s and not ‘ Love’s;’ 
+the word thoughts’ certainly presents a diffi- 
+culty. being used here prohably in the sense of 
+‘ dispositions of the mind.’ 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+II. iv. 196. “Is it mine, or Valentine’s 
+praise;’ the first Folio reads, ‘It is mine or 
+Valentine’s praise;’ the later Folios, ‘Is it 
+mine then, or Valentineans praise?’ Theo- 
+
+
+bald’s suggestion, ‘mine eye.’ has been gen- 
+erally adopted; ‘if this were unsatisfactory,’ 
+the Camb. editors remark, ‘another guess 
+might be hazarded:— 
+
+
+Is it mine unstaid mind or Valentine’s praise.’ 
+
+
+In the latter case ‘ Valentine’s’ must be 
+read as a dissvllable; in the former as a 
+quadrisyllable; it is not necessary to read, as 
+hes been proposed ‘ Valentino’s’ or ‘ Valen- 
+tinus’.’ Two other ingenious emendations are 
+noteworthy :—‘ her mien,’ ‘mine eyne.’ (‘ thine 
+eyne’ occurs as a rhyme in Midsummer Night’s 
+Dream, III. ii. 138). 
+
+II. v. 1; ITT. i 81; V. iv. 129. The Cam- 
+bridge editors have retained the reading of 
+the Folios in these lines, ‘ Padua’ in the first 
+passage, and ‘Verona’ in the second and 
+
+
+1328 
+
+
+third, ‘ because it is impossible that the words 
+can be a mere printer’s, or transcriber’s error. 
+These inaccuracies are interesting as showing 
+that Shakespeare had written the whole of the 
+play before he had finally determined where 
+the scene was to be laid;’ the scene is in each 
+
+
+case undoubtedly Milan (perhaps * Milano,’ 
+
+
+is gen- 
+in the sense of 
+
+
+III. ii. 
+
+
+tegrity: "—‘as her obdurate heart may pene- 
+perhaps rightly ex- 
+such ardour and sin- 
+cerity as would be manifested by practising the 
+directions given in the four preceding lines.’” 
+
+IV. i. 36. ‘ Robin Hood’s fat friar,’ i.e. Friar 
+Tuck. This allusion to ‘Robin Hood’s friar’ 
+by the Italian outlaw is somewhat unexpected ; 
+in the later play of As You Like It there is 
+also an allusion to ‘Robin Hood,’ but Shake- 
+speare is careful to add ‘of England’ (‘they 
+live ae the old Robin Hood of England,’ f. 
+i t22)e 
+
+IV. i. 49. ‘An heir, and near allied;’ the 
+Folios read ‘niece,’ for which Theobald sug- 
+
+
+The Merry Wives 
+
+
+I, i. 22. ‘ The luce is the fresh fish; the salt 
+tish is an old coat.’ No satisfactory explanation 
+of this passage has as yet been offered; various 
+suggestions have been made, e.g. ‘salt-fish’ — 
+the hake borne by the stockfishmongers; ‘same’ 
+for ‘salt’; ‘’tis ott fish’? (assigned to Evans), 
+&c. May not, however, the whole point of the 
+matter lie in Shallow’s use of ‘salt’ in the 
+sense of ‘saltant,’ the heraldic term, used es- 
+pecially for vermin? If so, ‘salt fish’? — ‘the 
+leaping louse,’ with a quibble on ‘salt’ as op- 
+posed to ‘fresh fish.’ There is further allusion 
+to the proverbial predilection of vermin for 
+‘old coats,’ used quibbingly in the sense of 
+* coat-of-arms.’ 
+
+I. i. 92. ‘ Outrun on Cotsall,’ i.e. on the 
+Cotswold hills (in Gloucestershire) ; probably an 
+allusion to the famous Cotswold Games, which 
+were revived at the beginning of the seven- 
+teenth century, though evidently instituted ear- 
+lier; the ailusion does not occur in the first 
+and second Quartos. 
+
+I. i. 177: © Scarlet and John’; Robin Hood’s 
+boon companion; an allusion to Bardolph’s red 
+face. 
+
+I. iii. 30. ‘A minute’s rest’; “a minim’s 
+is the ingenious suggestion of Bennet 
+Langton; cp. Romeo and Juliet, II. iv. 22, 
+“rests me his minim rest.” 
+
+I. iii. 49. ‘ Carves’; probably used here in 
+the sense of ‘to show favour by expressive ges- 
+tures’; cp. “A carver: chironomus - one 
+that useth apish motions with his hands.”,— 
+Littleton’s Latin-English Dictionary (1675). 
+
+iii. 76. ‘Region of Guiana,’ Sir Walter 
+Raleigh returned from hs expediton to South 
+America in 1596, and published his book on 
+“The Discovery of the large, rich, and beauti- 
+Sul Empire of Guiana’ in the same year. 
+
+
+NOTES 2 
+
+
+gested ‘near,’ a reading generally accepted; 
+possibly, but doubtfully, ‘niece’ may after all 
+be correct, being used occasionally by Eliza- 
+ae writers to signify almost any relation- 
+ship. 
+eels atv 60. “Hangman boys;’ the Folios read 
+‘hangmans boys;’ the reading in the text was 
+given by Singer from a MS. note in a copy of 
+the second Folio in his possession. 
+
+IV. iv. 79. The first Folio misprints, ‘ not 
+leave her token.’ 
+
+V. iv. 2. Probably a better reading than the 
+foe is that generally adopted, due to Collier’s 
+
+
+“these shadowy, desert, unfrequented woods. 
+
+V. iv. 47-50. ‘Rend thy faith . . perjury, 
+to love me. Thou . .-.’ The lines seem 
+clear as they stand; a suggestion by Mr. Danie} 
+is perhaps worthy of mention:—<‘ rain” = eee 
+perjury. To love me Thou,’ or ‘hail . . . Dis. 
+candied into perjury. To love me Thou . oe 
+
+
+V. iv. 71. A difficult line to scan; Johnson 
+proposed ‘O time most curst;’ others omit 
+most’ or ‘QO’; perhaps we have here an 
+
+
+Alexandrine, ‘O”’ counting as a monosyllabic 
+foot; the second syllable of ‘ deepest’ being an 
+
+
+extra syllable before the pause:— . 
+
+
+The pri’/vate wou’nd/ is de’epest;} O’-/ time 
+mo’st/ accur’st,/ 
+
+
+of Windsor—Notes : 
+
+
+I. iii. ror. ‘ By welkin and her star.’ This is 
+no doubt the correct reading of the line, and 
+there is no need to read stars, as has been sug- 
+gested; ‘star’ is obviously used here for ‘the 
+sun’; the Quartos read ‘ fairies.’ 
+
+Il. i. 5. ‘Though Love use Reason for his 
+physician.’ The Folios read ‘precisian’; the 
+emendation adopted in the text was first sug- 
+gested by Johnson, and has been generally ac- 
+cepted; cp. Sonnet cxivyir.: “ My reason the 
+physician to my love.” 
+
+II. i. 224, 227. In the Folios the name 
+‘Broome’ is given instead of ‘ Brooke’; but 
+Falstaff’s pun, “Such Brooks are welcome to 
+me, that overflow with liquor,” removes all 
+doubt as to the correct reading, which is actu- 
+ally found in the Quartos, 
+
+Il. i. 228. ‘Will you go, An-hires?? so the 
+Folios and Quartos; Theobald’s correction” * 
+“mynheers’ has been adopted by many modern 
+editors. Other suggestions are “ on, here; ” 
+“on, hearts; ”? “on, heroes; ” “ cavaleires; ” 
+
+
+c. ¢ 
+II. iii. 93. ‘Cried I aim?’ The Folios and 
+
+Quartos read ‘cried game;’ the ingenious 
+
+nde IL, due to Douce, was first adopted by 
+yvCer 
+
+III. i. 17, &c. Sir Hugh oddly confuses Mar- 
+lowe’s famous ditty, “Come live with me and 
+by my love.” and the old version of the 137th 
+Psalm, “When we did sit in Babylon.” 
+
+III. i. 99. ‘ Gallia and Gaul’; so the Folios; 
+the first and second Quartos read ‘ Gawle and 
+Gawlia;’ Farmer’s conjecture “ Gaullia and 
+Ganl”? was adopted by Malone and other 
+editors. Gallia = Wales. 
+
+III. ii. 75-76. ‘He shall not knit a knot in 
+his fortunes’ (which are now as it were un- 
+ravelled). \ 
+
+
+- second 
+
+
+~ J. iii. 45. ‘Have I caught thee’; probably 
+the reading of the Quarto which omits ‘ thee’ 
+is the more correct; Falstaff quotes from the 
+song in Sydney’s Astrophel and 
+Stella:— 
+
+
+“ Have I caught my heav’nly jewell, 
+Teaching sleep most faire to be? 
+Now will I teach her that she 
+
+When she wakes is too-too cruell.” 
+
+
+Ill. iv. 4. The reading of the Quartos is 
+
+
+seemingly preferable:—‘ Have I lived to be! 
+
+
+carried in a basket, and thrown into the 
+Thames like a barrow of butcher’s offal.’ 
+
+Ill. v. >. ‘The rogues slighted me into the 
+river, i.e. ‘Threw me’ in contemptuously; 
+the Quarios read ‘slided me in.’ 
+
+V. i. 50. ‘Hang-hog is Latin for bacon’; 
+probably suggested by the famous story told 
+of Sir Nicholas Bacon. A prisoner named 
+Hog, who had been condemned to death. 
+prayed for mercy on the score of kindred. 
+"Aye but,” replied the judge, “you and I 
+cannot be of kindred unless you are hanged; 
+
+
+_for Hog is not Bacon till it be well hanged” 
+
+
+(Bacon’s Apophthegms). 
+
+IV. ii, 21. ‘ Old lunes’; the Folios and third 
+Quarto read ‘lines;’ the first and second 
+Quartos ‘ vaine;’ the correction is Theobald’s; 
+the same error occurs in Troilus and Cressida, 
+Il. iii. 139. 
+
+IV. ii. 100. ‘The witch of Brentford’; an 
+actual personage of the sixteenth century. A 
+tract is extant entitled “‘Jyl of Breyntford’s 
+Testament,” whence it appears that the witch 
+kept a tavern at Brentford; in Dekker & 
+Webster’s Westward Ho the following allusion 
+is found:—“I doubt that old hag Gillian of 
+Brainford has bewitched me.” 
+
+IV. iv. 42. ‘That Falstaff at that oak shall 
+meet with us.’ After this line the following 
+words from the Quartos have been added in 
+many editions:— 
+
+
+* We'll send him word to meet us in the field, 
+~ Disguised like Horne with huge horns on 
+
+
+his head.” 
+
+
+IV. iv. 57- ‘To pinch’; probably the correct 
+reading should be ‘to-pinch,’? where ‘to’ is 
+the intensitive prefix so common in old Eng- 
+lish, though it is possible to explain it as the 
+ordinary infinitive prefix, omitted in the case 
+of the former verb in the sentence. 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+1329 
+
+
+IV. iv. 83. ‘Send quickly to Sir John.’ 
+Theobald ingeniously suggested ‘ Quickly’ for 
+* quickly.’ 
+| IV. v. 79. “ Gozen-germans’; the first Quarto 
+| reads:— 
+
+
+| 
+
+
+“For there is three sorts of cosen garmom- 
+
+
+bles, 
+
+Is cosen all the Host of Maidenhead and 
+Readings,” 
+where ‘garmombles’ is very possibly a_per- 
+| version of Moémpelgard; Count Frederick of 
+| Mompelgard visited Windsor in 1592; free 
+| post-horses were granted him by a passport of 
+| Lord Howard. 
+| The Count became a “ Duke of Jamany” 
+(Wirtemberg) in 1593; considerable interest 
+| must have been taken in the Duke about 15098. 
+1A letter to the Queen, dated August 14, 1598. 
+is extant, in which the following passage 
+occurs:—“ I have heard with extreme regret 
+| that some of my enemies endeavour to calumni- 
+j ote me and prejudice your majesty against me. 
+|T have given them no occasion for this. I 
+hope that when your majesty has discovered 
+this report to be false, you will have greater 
+reason to continue your affection towards me, 
+and give neither faith nor credit to such 
+vipers.”” In the year 1602 appeared “ An Ac- 
+count of the Duke’s Bathing Fxcursion to the 
+far-famed Kingdom of England” (zvtde Rye’s 
+England as seen by Foreigners). 
+
+V. v. 27. ‘Bribe buck’; the Folios read 
+‘brib’d- buck,’ which is probably the right 
+reading: ‘a bribed buck’ was a buck cnt up 
+into portions, (Old French bribes = ‘ portions 
+of meat to be given away’). 
+
+V. v. 43. ‘Orphan heirs.’ Theobald sug- 
+gested ‘ouphen’ (elvish) for ‘orphan,’ and he 
+has been followed by many editors. but the 
+change is unnecessary. Cp. ‘unfather’d heirs’ 
+2 Henry IV. iv. 122. 
+
+V. v. 46, 48. ‘ Toys,’ evidently to be read 
+‘toyés,’ rhyming with ‘O-yes’ in the previ- 
+ous line; similarly ‘unswept’ should probably 
+be ‘ unswep’ rhyming with ‘ leap.’ 
+
+
+v. i111. ‘These fair yokes’; the first 
+Folio reads ‘yoakes,’ the second ‘okes.’ 
+“Yokes’ must refer to the resemblance of 
+
+
+the buck’s horns to a yoke; a sort of sense 
+can be got out of ‘oaks,’ the antlers resem- 
+‘Sling the branches of oaks, but the first Folio 
+reading seems preferable. 
+
+
+Measure for Measure—Notes 
+
+
+I. i. 8, 9. There is no gap in the Folics. _ 
+
+
+which is due to Theobald’s plausible theory 
+that the obscurity of the passage is due to 
+some careless omission on the part of th- 
+printers. Various attempts have been mad- 
+to explain the lines, e.g. “‘ But that to your 
+sufficiencies your worth is abled” (Johnson): 
+*““But your sufficiency a$ worth is able” 
+(Farmer); Theobald supplied the missing 
+werds thus— 
+
+
+* But that to your sufficiency you add 
+Due diligency as your worth is able.” 
+
+
+I. i. 43. ‘Hold therefore, Angelo;’ the 
+Nuke probably says these words on tendering 
+-ommission to Angelo. 
+
+I. ii. 28. ‘ There went but a pair of shears 
+between us;’ i.e. ‘we are of one piece.’ 
+
+I. ii. 126. Cp. St. Paul to the Romans ix. 
+15, 18: “ For He saith to Moses, I will have 
+mercy on whom I will, have mercy,” and 
+again, “ Therefore hath He mercy on whom 
+He will have mercy, and whom He will He 
+hardeneth.” 
+
+I. it. 138. ‘ Morality; 
+“ mortality” 
+
+
+? the Folios misprint 
+
+
+1330 NOTES 
+
+
+Il. iv. 172. ‘O perilous mouths;’ the line 
+is defective as it stands (2?) “O pernicious 
+mouths’? (Walker), or “ these perilous ”’ 
+(Seymour). 
+
+III. i. 94, 97. ‘ Prenzie;’ the source of this 
+strange word has baffled students; it seems 
+identical with the Scottish primsie, * demure, 
+precise,’ which in its turn is connected with 
+prim (in Old French prin, pren): under any 
+circumstances there is no reason why the 
+word should be changed, as has been pro- 
+posed, to ‘ princely,’ the readers of the second 
+Folio, or ‘ priestly,’ ‘pensive,’ &c, 
+
+III. ii. 9. ‘The passage seems to us to 
+imply, furred (that is, lined with lamb-skin 
+fur inside, and trimmed with fox-skin fur 
+outside) with both kinds of fur, to show that 
+craft (fox-skin), being richer than innocency 
+(lamb-skin), is used for decoration ” (Clarke). 
+
+Ill. ii. 12-14. ‘Good father frag? es 
+“good brother father;’ the joke, as Tyrwhitt 
+pointed out, would be clearer in’ French, 
+“mon peére frdre’ . . . “mon fréere pere.’ 
+
+III. i.. 41. ‘From our faults, as faults from 
+seeming, free!’ So Folio 1, Folio 2 and 
+Folio 3, “Free from our faults,’ &c.; Hanmer 
+corrects the latter part of the line, ‘As from 
+faults seeming free” As it stands in the 
+text, it would seem to mean “ Would that 
+we were as free from faults, as our faults 
+are from seeming (hypocrisy). One feels 
+inclined to hazard— 
+
+
+I. ii. 154. ‘ Propagation;’ Folio 1 reads pro- 
+pogation, corrected in Folio 2; prorogation, 
+procuration, preservation, have been suggested 
+by various editors, but the text as it stands 
+is probably correct, though not altogether 
+clear; ‘ propagation’ — ‘ increase; ’ perhaps the 
+word implies ‘increase of interest,’ and “ for 
+bropogation — ‘that she might continue to re- 
+ceive the interest, which was to be hers while 
+she remained unmarried.’ 
+
+I. iii. 43. ‘To do in slander;’ so the Folios; 
+“me’ and ‘it’ have been suggested for ‘in,’ 
+but no change is necessary; ‘do in’ = ‘ bring 
+in, bring upon me.’ 
+
+II. i. 39. ‘Some run from brakes of ice, and 
+answer none;’ the line as it stands in the 
+Folios is obviously corrupt, and has occasioned 
+much discussion. Shakespeare probably wrote 
+“brakes of vice;’ brakes = thickets, hence 
+“entanglements;’ ‘ brakes of vice’ is anti- 
+thetical to ‘a fault alone, cp. Henry VIII. 
+I. ii. 75— 
+
+
+“the rough brake 
+That virtue must go through.” 
+
+
+The line therefore means ‘some escape from 
+whole thickets of sin, and pay no penalty.’ 
+Judging by the passage in Henry VIII, 
+through for from would perhaps be an im- 
+provement. 
+
+II. i. 135. ‘ An open room;’ Schmidt, “ pub- 
+lic room;” perhaps it means “open to sun, 
+light, cheerful.’ 
+
+Il. it. 79. ‘Like man new made;” com- 
+mentators are strongly tempted to refer the 
+words to ‘new made man.’ ce. Adam; Holt 
+White paraphrased thus:—‘ And you, Angelo, 
+will breathe new life into Claudio, as the 
+Creator animated Adam, by breathing into his 
+nostrils the breath of. life.” Malone explains: 
+—‘‘ You will then appear as tender-hearted and 
+merciful as the first man was in ‘his days of 
+innocence, immediately after his creation.” 
+Schmidt and others, “like man redeemed and 
+regenerated by divine grace.” The lines are 
+perhaps capable of ‘this interpretation:—And 
+mercy will breathe within your lips, even as 
+Mercy (i.e. God) breathed within the lips of 
+new made man. 
+
+Il. ii. 90. “‘ Dormiunt aliquando leges, mori- 
+untur nunquam,” is a well-known maxim in 
+law (Holt White). 
+
+Il. ii. 159. ‘Where prayers cross, t. ‘e. 
+where his prayer to possess Isabella crosses 
+with hers, ‘‘ Heaven keep your honour safe! ”’ 
+
+Il. iii. 11. ‘ The flaws of her own youth; ’ 
+possibly Warburton’s correction flames ”’ 
+should be adopted; cp. 
+
+
+“Free from our faults, as from false seem- 
+ing, free!’ 
+
+
+(Cp. II, iv. 15, ‘thy false seeming.’) 
+
+III. ii. 21. ‘ Security enough to make fel- 
+lowships accurst;’ cp. Prov. xi. 5! 
+
+III. ii. 274-296. These lines are in all prob 
+ability not Shakespeare’s, but by another hand, 
+
+III. ii. 278. “Grace to stand, and virtue 
+go;’ te. ‘To have grace to stand firm, and 
+virtue to go forward.’ 
+
+Ill. ii. 287-490. ‘How may likeness made 
+in crimes,’ &c.; these lines do not readily 
+admit of interpretation, and some corrup- 
+tion has probably crept into the text; Malone 
+suggested wade for made, te. “ How may 
+hypocrisy wade in. crimes; ” Hanmer, “ that 
+likeness shading crimes,” &c. None of the 
+suggestions seem very satisfactory. Perhaps 
+to draw = ‘ to-draw,’ 7. e. ‘pull to pieces’ (?) 
+
+IV. i..This song appears in Beaumont and 
+Fletcher’s Bloody Brother, with the addition-» 
+of the following stanza, assuredly not Shake- 
+speare’s, though found in the spurious edition 
+of his poems, (1640)— 
+
+
+“ Hide, O hide those hills of snow 
+Which thy frozen bosom bears, 
+On whose tops the pinks that grow 
+Are of those that April wears; 
+But first set my poor heart free, : 
+Bound by those icy chains by thee? 
+
+
+‘To flaming youth let virtue be as wax, 
+And melt in her own fire.’ 
+—Hamter. III. iv. 84. 
+
+
+Il. iii, 40.°O injurious love’ (Folios 
+‘loue’); Hanmer’s suggestion, “law” for 
+“ loue,”’ has been generally accepted; the law 
+respited her ‘a life whose very comfort’ was 
+“a dying horror.’ 
+
+. iv, 9. ‘ Feared;’ probably an error of 
+‘feared,’ i.e. ‘ seared,’ which, according to 
+Collier, is the reading of Lord Ellesmere’s 
+copy of the first Folio. 
+
+Il. iv. 103. ‘ That ‘longing have been sick 
+for;’? Rowe suggested, “ I’ve been sick for.” 
+
+
+IV. i. 13. “Though the music soothed my 
+sorrows, it had no tendency to produce light 
+merriment ” (Johnson). i 
+
+IV. ii. 46-50. ‘If ¥t be too little—thief ;’ the 
+Folios give this to Clo. (Pompey); Capell 
+first transferred it to Abhorson, and he has 
+been followed by most editors. Cowden 
+Clarke defends the Folio arrangement; among 
+other arguments he maintains that “ the 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+133} 
+
+
+speech is much more in character with the 
+clown’s snip-snap style of chop-logic than 
+with Abhorson’s manner, which is remarkably 
+curt and bluff,” 
+
+
+IV. iv. 6. ‘redeliver;’ Folio 1, ‘ re-liuer;’ 
+Folio 2, ‘deliwer;’ Capell first suggested ‘ re- 
+deliver. 
+
+
+IV. iv. 29. ‘bears of a credent bulk;’ so 
+Folios 1, 2, 3; many emendations have been 
+proposed; Dyce’s seems the most plausible— 
+
+‘bears so credent bulk;’ ‘credent bulk’ — 
+“weight of credit.’ 
+
+V. i. 64. ‘Do not banish reason, For in- 
+equality;’ i.e. because of ‘improbability,’ ‘ in- 
+congruity,’ or, according to some, ‘ partial- 
+ity. 
+
+
+The Comedy of 
+
+
+’ 
+
+
+Y. i. 79. ‘ The latter-born;’ line 125 below 
+seems to imply that this should be ‘ elder- 
+born,’ a change adopted by Rowe; but probably 
+‘the children became exchanged in the con- 
+fusion during the breaking-up of the ship.’ 
+
+ii. 41. ‘The alnanac of my true date,’ 
+because both were born in the same hour. 
+
+I. ii. 64. ‘I shall be post indeed;’ a post 
+stood in the middle of the shop, on which the 
+scores of the customers were scored, or marked 
+with chalk or notches. 
+
+I. ii. 66. ‘Clock;’ Pope’s emendation for 
+‘cook,’ the reading of the Folios. é 
+
+II. i. 109-113. These lines read as follows in 
+the Folio:— 
+
+
+*T see the Jewell best enameled f ; 
+
+Will loose his lustre; yet the gold bides still 
+
+That others touch, and often touching will, 
+
+“ary gold and no man that hath a name,’ 
+Co figit 
+
+
+The change of where to wear in the last line 
+has been generally accepted, as also and though 
+for yet in the second line; yet for and in the 
+third; and so a man for and no man in the 
+fourth; Warburton paraphrases this passage 
+thus emended:—“ Gold, indeed, will long bear 
+the handling; however, often touching (i.e. as- 
+saying) will wear even gold: just so the 
+greatest character, though as pure as gold 
+itself, may in time be injured by the repeated 
+attacks of falsehood and corruption.” The 
+Cambridge editors wisely abstain from these’ 
+wholesale emendations, though so far no satis- 
+factory explanation has been given of the lines. 
+May not the meaning of the passage depend on 
+some such interpretation as this:—The wife 
+(the jewel) soon loses her beauty and ceases 
+to attract, but man (the gold) still stands the 
+test, assayed by other women, and. although 
+golds wears out if assayed too often, yet a man 
+of good reputation is not shamed by his false- 
+hood and corruption. ‘ Wherefore,’ says Adri- 
+ana, ‘since I (the jewel) cannot please his eye, 
+T’ll weep what’s left away,’ &c. 
+
+II. ii. 90. ‘ Jollity;’ Staunton suggestec that 
+the reading is an error for ‘ policy,’ and the 
+reading has been adopted by some modern 
+editors. 
+
+II. ii. 120. As the line stands, it reads as an 
+
+
+V. i. 323. ‘These shops,” according tc 
+Nares, ‘‘were places of great resort, for 
+passing away time in an idle manner. By way 
+of enforcing some kind of regularity, and 
+perhaps at least as much to promote drinking, 
+certain laws were usually hung up, the trans: 
+gression of which was to be punished by: 
+specific forfeitures. It is not to be wondered, 
+
+
+that laws of that nature were as often 
+laughed at as obeyed.” 
+V. i. 360. ‘be hanged an hour’ seems to 
+
+
+have been a cant phrase, meaning little more 
+than ‘ be hanged!’ 
+
+V. i. 407. ‘Give me your hand;’ i.e, 
+you give me your hand.’ 
+
+
+‘iz 
+
+
+Errors—-Notes 
+
+
+Alexandrine. Walker suggested carv’d thee 
+for carved to thee; others propose the omission 
+of to thee; neither change seems desirable. 
+
+Il. ii. 148. ‘I live distain’d, thou undishon- 
+oured;” so read the Folios; distain’d has been 
+changed to unstain’d in most modern editions; 
+Heath proposed ‘J live distained, thou dis- 
+honoured.’ The line as it stands in the text 
+seems to mean, ‘I live distained (i.e. stained), 
+if untrue to my marriage vows; you, however, 
+live undishonoured, however false you may be.’ 
+
+Il. it. 188. ‘this sure uncertainty,’ t.e. 
+‘This to her surely a thing uncertain.’ 
+
+II. ii. 3192. The second Folio reads “and 
+Elves Sprites,’ which Rowe altered to Elvish 
+sprites, a reading adopted by most editors. 
+Theobald proposed to change owls to ouphes. 
+
+Il. ii. 201. ‘tis to an ass;’ the words remind 
+one of Bottom’s transformation in the Mid- 
+summer Night’s Dream. 
+
+i. 53. ‘If thy name be called Luce:’ 
+“Luce’ = ‘ pike;’ there is perhaps a play upon 
+‘pike’ in the sense of ‘spear,’ cp. ‘Shall I 
+set in my staff?’ line 51. 
+
+Ill. i. 54. Probably a line has been lost 
+rhyming with this; the rhyming word was per- 
+haps rope. 
+
+III. ii. 66. ‘I am thee;’ this reading of the 
+Folio may surely, without risk, be emended:— 
+“I. aim thee,’ i.e. ‘I aim at thee;’ the transi- 
+tive use of aim is found in Elizabethan writers, 
+
+Ill. ii. 126. ‘armed and reverted, making 
+war against her heir;’ Folio 2 substituted hair 
+for heir, but the play upon words is the whole 
+point of the passage, an allusion being intended 
+to the War of the League against Henry of 
+Navarre, the heir of Henry III. of France, 
+whose cause was supported by Elizabeth; in 
+1591 she sent a body of 4000 men under Essex 
+to help him. ‘‘ Mistress Nell’s brazen forehead 
+seemed to push back her rough and rebellious 
+hair, as France resisted the claim of the Prot- 
+estant heir to the throne” (Clarke). 
+
+English enthusiasm for Henry of Navarre 
+found expression, too, in Shakespeare’s Love’s 
+Labour’s Lost (cp. Preface). Li 
+
+As regards the peculiar use of reverted, 1.e. 
+‘turned back,’ Schmidt suggests that there 
+may be a play upon the sense of ‘ fallen to 
+another proprietor.’ 
+
+IV. i. 21. ‘I buy a thousand pound a year;’ 
+
+‘ 
+
+
+1332 
+
+
+some point in these words, familiar to Shake- 
+speare’s audience, is lost to us, and no satis- 
+factory explanation has as yet been given, 
+though Halliwell’s comparison of the line with 
+3 Henry VI. Il. ii. 144, is noteworthy :— 
+
+
+“A wisp of straw were worth a thousand 
+crowns, ie 
+To make this shameless callet know herself. 
+
+
+IV. ii. 35. ‘A fiend, a fury;’ the Folios 
+read ‘fairy,’ corrected by Theobald, who had 
+been followed by most editors, including the 
+Cambridge editors; a strong case can, however, 
+be made for the original reading (e.g. cp. 
+Hamlet I. i. 161-163). i 
+
+IV. ii, 61. ‘If Time be in debt;’ the Folios 
+. read “Jf J,’ where I is, probably an error for 
+’a (i.e. he) or he; the reading in the text is 
+Rowe’s emendation. , 
+
+IV. iii. 13. ‘What, have you got the picture 
+of old Adam new-apparelled?’ ‘The picture 
+of old Adan’ = the sergeant, who was clad 
+“in buff;’ in Elizabethan slang this lattor 
+phrase was used in the sense of “bare skin,’ 
+te. ‘naked;’ hence the quibble. New-appar- 
+elled offers some difficulty, and depends on the 
+general construction of the whole line. It has 
+been ingeniously suggested that the idea is 
+“got him a new suit,’ te. § got rid of him.’ On 
+the other hand, there is a possibility that the 
+phrase ‘What have you got?” is a vulgarism 
+for ‘What have you done with?’ Theobald 
+Proposed to read ‘What, have you got rid of 
+the picture,’ &c. In the latter cases new. 
+apparelled must be regarded as merely a de- 
+scriptive epithet, the whole phrase ‘ the picture 
+of old Adam new-apparelled ’ being an elab- 
+orate circumlocution for ‘ sergeant.’ 
+
+IV. iii. 60. ‘We'll mend our dinner,’ tue. 
+‘we'll buy something more for our dinner.’ 
+
+DVapv- ase. Lhe prophecy like the parrot, 
+beware the rope’s-end;’ the Cambridge editors 
+as ingeniously conjecture that we should 
+read :— 
+
+
+“or, rather, ‘ prospice funem,’ beware 
+the rope’s end. 
+Antipholus of E. Wilt thou still talk like the 
+parrot?” 
+
+
+Dyce proposed, ‘ or, rather, to prophecy, like,’ 
+
+
+Parrots were taught uncomplimentary re- 
+marks in Elizabethan times, as they are at 
+present; there are many allusions to the very 
+pees in the text: Ralpho, in Butler’s Hudi- 
+ras, 
+
+
+“Could tell what subtlest parrots mean, 
+That speak, but think contrary clean; 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+What member ’t is of whom they talk, 
+When they cry rope, and walk, knave, walk.” 
+
+
+V. i. 46. ‘And much different,’ &c., the sec- 
+ond Folio, for the sake of the metre, reads 
+much much; a reading which does not com- 
+nend itself; too much has been conjectured, 
+The line as it stands is certainly doubtful: 
+différent does not occur in Shakespeare. 
+
+V. i. 66. ‘ Glacéd it;’ Pope’s conjectural at 
+it is unnecessary, though glance in the sense 
+‘o hint, used transitively, does not otherwise 
+occur; Folio 1 does not elide the ed of glanced, 
+
+V. i. 79. ‘But mooay and dull melancholy; ’ 
+something is obviously amiss with the line; 
+moody moping has been suggested. Kinsman 
+in the next line is used in its general sense of 
+tkin, which some editors have unnecessarily 
+substituted; it has even been changed to kins- 
+worvan, 
+
+V. i. 170. ‘ Beaten the maids,’ &c. i.e. have 
+beaten; but the previous verb has are,—a con- 
+fusion of constructions which causes little dif- 
+ngelty, and fairly common in Elizabethan Eng- 
+lish. : 
+
+V. i. 310. ‘ My feeble key of untuned cares;’ 
+i.e. ‘the feeble tone of my voice, which gives 
+utterance to nothing but unharmonious grief.’ 
+
+V. i. 388. ‘These Errors are arose’ so the 
+Folios; are has been variously changed by 
+scholars into all, rare, but no change is neces- 
+sary; as far as rhythm is concerned the Folio 
+reading is certainly preferable, 
+
+V. i. 400. ‘ Thirty-three years;’ this reading 
+of the Folios has been changed to twenty-five 
+by most editors, following Theobald, who cal- 
+culates the age of the twins by putting to- 
+gether what Atgeon says in Act I. i 125 and 
+in line 320 of Act V. Capell suggested twenty- 
+three, from Act I. i. line 125 and line 133. 
+On the other hand, the Duke states in line 326 
+of the present Act that he has been patron to 
+Antipholus for ‘twenty years:? it looks as 
+though Shakespeare changed his idea as to the 
+age of the twins towards the end of the play, 
+without troubling to make all his references fit 
+in with one another. 
+
+V. i. 404. ‘And you the calendars of their 
+nativity;’ i.e., the two Dromios; cp. ‘Here 
+comes the almanac of my true date,’ I. ii. 41. 
+
+V. i. 406. ‘After so long grief, such nativ- 
+ity;’ the labouring line harmonises well with 
+the emotion of the speaker; the line is evidently 
+intended to be read as follows:— 
+
+
+“After.|so long | grief, sich | natty | tty.’ 
+
+
+There seems no reason for changing nativity, 
+though Hanmer’s conjecture felicity has been 
+accepted by most editors; Johnson proposed 
+festivity. 
+
+
+Much Ado About Nothing—Notes 
+
+
+I. i. 218. The English story of “Mr. Fox”? 
+alluded to here was first written ‘down by 
+Blakeway, who contributed to Malone’s Vari- 
+orum Edition a version of the tale he had 
+heard from an old aunt (cp. Jacobs’ English 
+Fairy Tales). 
+
+i. 221. ‘As melancholy as a lodge in a 
+e 
+
+
+warren’: the phrase suggests “ The daughter 
+of Zion is left as a cottage in a vinevard, as a 
+lodge in a garden of enenmbers” Tsaiah i. 8. 
+
+Tl. ii. 45. Some editors substitute ‘ Bo- 
+tachio’ for ‘Claudio’ in order to relieve the 
+difficulty here, but, as the Cambridge editors 
+point out. “ Hero’s supposed offenre would not 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+1333 
+
+
+be enhanced by calling one lover by the name 
+of the other. . . . Perhaps the author meant 
+that Borachio should persuade her to play, as 
+children say, at being Hero and Claudio.” 
+
+II. iii. 38. The Folio reads:—‘ Enter Prince, 
+Leonato, Claudio and Jack Wilson ; the latter 
+was probably the singer who took the part of 
+Balthasar. 
+
+Ill. ii. 27. ‘Where is but a humour or a 
+worm’: toothache was popularly supposed to 
+be caused by a worm at the root of the tooth. 
+
+III. iii. It is an interesting fact that ‘ Dog- 
+berry,’ the vulgar name of the dogwood, was 
+used as a surname as far back as the time of 
+Richard II., and that ‘ Verges,’ a provincial 
+corruption of verjuice, occurs in an ancient 
+MS. (MS. Ashmol. 38) as the name of a usurer 
+whose epitaph is given:— 
+
+
+“Here lies father Varges 
+Who died to save charges.” 
+
+
+Il. iii. 92. ‘Keep your fellows’ counsels and 
+your own.’ It has been pointed out by stu- 
+dents of Shakespeare’s legal acquirements that 
+these words still form part of the oath admin- 
+istered by judges’ marshal to the grand jury- 
+men at the present day. 
+
+ib Ne “Comparisons are odorous.’ An 
+elaborate extension of this joke occurs in the 
+old play gf pe Gyles Goosecappe (c. 1603). 
+
+IRR “When the age ts in, the wit is 
+out’; a blund=r for the old proverbial ex 
+pression, “ when the ale is in, wit is out” 
+
+
+“When ale is in, wit is out, 
+When ale is out, wit is in, 
+The first thou showest out of doubt, 
+The last in thee hath not been.” 
+Heywoon’s Epigrams and Proverbs. 
+
+
+IV. ii. Nearly all the speeches of Dogberry 
+throughout the scene are given to the famous 
+
+
+comedian ‘Kemp,’ those of Verges to ‘ Cow- 
+ley.’ Killiam Kemp and Richard Cowley are 
+among the ‘principall actors’ enumerated in 
+the first Folio. The retention of the names 
+of the actors ‘‘ supplies a measure of the edi- 
+torial care to which the several Folios were 
+submitted.” Dogberry’s spcech is assigned to 
+
+‘Andrew, probably a familiar appellation 
+of Kemp, who, according to the Cambridge Edi- 
+tion, often played the part of ‘ Merry Andrew.’ 
+
+IV. ii. “We have the exhibition to ex- 
+amine.’ Verges’ blunder is not quite clear: 
+possibly ‘exhibition’ is used in the sense of 
+‘allowance’ or permission; otherwise he per- 
+bays means ‘examination to exhibit.’ 
+
+V. i. 16. ‘Bid sorrow wag, cry ‘“hem!”’ 
+The Quarto and the first and second Folios 
+read, “And sorrow wagge, crie hem’: Folio 
+3, ‘And hallow, wag, cry hem’: Folio a, 
+“And hollow wag, cry hem.’ Many emenda- 
+tions have been suggested. Capell’s ‘ bid sor- 
+row wag,’ is now generally adopted. Johnson 
+proposed ‘Cry, sorrow wag! and hem.’ 
+(‘Sorrow wag,’ like ‘care away,’ was prob 
+ably a proverbial phrase.) One other sugges- 
+tion is perhaps noteworthy:—‘And, sorry wag, 
+cry “ hem’? 
+
+V. iii. 20, 21. ‘ Heavily, heavily’; so reads 
+the Quarto; the Folios ‘ Heavenly, héavenly,’ 
+adonted by many editors. The same error, 
+however, of ‘heavenly’ for ‘heavily’  oc- 
+curs in the Folio reading of Hamlet II. ii. 309. 
+
+“The slayers of the virgin knight are per- 
+forming a solemn requiem on the body of Hero. 
+and they invoke Midnight and the shades ot 
+the dead to assist, until her death be uttered, 
+that is, proclaimed, published, sorrowfully, sor- 
+rowfully fs (Halliwell), 
+
+V. iv. 125. ‘ There is no staff more reverend 
+than one tipped with horn’; i.e. having a fer- 
+tule of horn; there is, of course, a quibbling 
+allusion in the words of the favourite Eliza- 
+bethan joke. 
+
+
+Love’s Labour’s Lost—Notes 
+
+
+THERE is no list of ‘Dramatis Persone’ in 
+the Quartos and Folios: it should be remem- 
+_bered that ‘Biron’ is spelt ‘ Berowne,’ rhym- 
+ing with ‘moon’ in Act IV. iii. 2323 ‘Moth’ 
+was probably pronounced ‘Mote’ (cp. the 
+quibble on ‘nothing’ in Much Ado, II. iii. 509, 
+and on ‘Goths’ in As You Like ‘Tt, Ut. lil. 
+9); ‘ Mercade’ is generally ‘ Marcade’ * Arm- 
+ado’ is sometimes given as ‘ Aine hate 
+* Boyet’ rhymes with “debts dnwVe. 3. 334: 
+“ Longaville’ with ‘ill’ in IV. iii, 124, and 
+with ‘ pale in V. 53. 
+
+ite 3 * feast’; ORs and Folios ‘ 
+corrected by Theobald. 
+
+“Who dazzling so’; “that when he 
+dazzles, raat is, has his eye made weak, by fix- 
+ing his eye upon a fairer eye, that fairer eye 
+shall be his heed, his direction or lodestar, and 
+give him light that was blinded by it” (John- 
+son). 
+
+I. i. 104. ‘Any abortive, the reading of 
+tthe Quartos and Folios; probably an error for 
+“an” as corrected by Pope. 
+
+
+fast,’ 
+
+
+I. i. 106. ‘shows’; Theobald substituted 
+‘earth’ for the sake of the rhyme; Walker 
+proposed ‘ mirth.’ Malone supposes a line to 
+be lost after line 104. 
+
+I. i. 108-109. ‘So you to study . little 
+gate’; this is one of the instances where the 
+reading of the first Quarto is better than that 
+of the Folio:— 
+
+
+“So you to studie now itt ts too late, 
+That were to clymbe ore the house to unlocke 
+the gate.’ 
+
+
+Various emendations have been proposed; the 
+only real difficulty is in the loose use of the 
+word ‘so.’ Biron says that he likes of each 
+thing that in season grows; ‘so’ presupposes, 
+however, some statement to this effect; ‘ to wish 
+for, or to do, a thing out of season is huge 
+folly ’; (so you, now that it is too late to study, 
+climb o’er the house, &c.). 
+
+
+T, i. 185. ‘ Tharborough’; the reading of the 
+
+
+1334 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+’ 
+
+
+Quarto ‘ farborough’ probably gives us Dull’s 
+actual pronunciation of his office. 
+
+. i. 196. ‘heaven,’ so Quartos and Folios. 
+Theobald proposed ‘ having ’; 
+the exact force of the phrase, it seems most 
+probable that ‘ heaven’ is the right word, and 
+no emendation is necessary. 
+
+
+I. ii, 94. ‘A green wit’; a probable tee en 
+the 
+
+
+according to the Cambridge editors, to 
+“green withes’ with which Samson was bound 
+(cp. note swpra on pronunciation of ‘ Moth’). 
+
+
+I. ii. 114. The ballad of King Cophetua and 
+the Beggar-Maid may be found in Percey’s 
+
+
+Reliques. 
+
+Il. i. 45. ‘Well fitted in arts’; the second 
+Folio inserts ‘the,’ omitted in the earlier edi- 
+tions. 
+
+II. i. 114-128. The speakers in Quarto 1 are 
+“Berowne’ and ‘ Katharine.’ 
+
+II. i. 129. Shakespeare may have got a hint 
+for this passage from Monstrelet’s Chronicles, 
+according to which Charles, King of Navarre, 
+surrendered to the King of France the castle 
+of Cherbourg, the country of Evreux, and 
+other lordships for the Duchy of Nemours and 
+a promise of 200,000 gold crowns (vide Shake- 
+speare’s Library, ed. Hazlitt, Part I, Vol. i.). 
+
+II. i.» 238. ‘Impatient to speak and not see,’ 
+7.é., ‘not able to endure merely the faculty of 
+speech without that of sight.’ 
+
+Il. i. 21, ‘“ It was a common trick among some 
+of the most indolent of the ancient masters, to 
+place the hands in the bosom or the pockets, or 
+conceal them in some part of the drapery, to 
+avoid the labour of representing them, or to dis- 
+guise their own want of skill to employ them 
+with grace and propriety ’’ (Steevens). 
+
+V. i. 1-4. These lines, as Spedding pointed 
+out, were most probably introduced in the cor- 
+rected copy. “It was thus that Shakespeare 
+learnt to shade off his scenes, to carry the 
+action beyond the stage.’’ 
+
+IV. i. 146. ‘Armado o’ th’ one side’; the 
+reading is due to Rowe; the first Quarto has 
+“Armatho ath toothen side,’ and the Folio 
+“ Armathor ath to the side.’ Possibly the whole 
+passage from ‘O my troth . nit’ should 
+have been printed in the previous scene, after 
+line 136, and some editors make the transposi- 
+tion. : 
+
+IV. ii. 42. ‘The allusion holds in the ex- 
+change,’ i.e., ‘ the riddle is as good when I use 
+the name of Adam as when I use the name of 
+Cain.’ 
+
+IV. ii. 62. “one sorel’; the first Quarto has 
+“o sorell,’ and the Folios ‘O sorell’; Capell 
+proposed ‘QO sore L,’ which is generally 
+adopted. 
+
+IV. ii. 99-100. The first Quarto and Folio 
+give the following reading:— 
+
+
+“Vermiche, vencha, que non te unde, que non 
+te perreche’; 
+
+
+the reading adopted by the Cambridge editors 
+is from Florio’s Second Frutes (1591), whence 
+Shakespeare probably took it. 
+
+V. ii, 123. ‘ apostrophas’; this is taken by 
+some editors to refer to the apostrophes in 
+vow'd and bow’d (ll. 110, 112), and the words 
+are accordingly printed ‘vowed’ and ‘ bowed ’; 
+this interpretation seems unsatisfactory, but so 
+far nothing better has been advanced. Does not 
+Holofernes’ criticism bear directly on the last 
+une, of the canzonet? Nathaniel should have 
+read :— 
+
+
+whatever may be 
+
+
+“That singés heaven’s praise with such an 
+earthly tongue.’ 
+
+
+It was usual to mark es’ with two dots when 
+sounded: Holofernes may mean by ‘ apostro- 
+Phas,’ ‘ diwreses.’ The poem is printed with a 
+few variant readings (e.g. ‘to sing’) in the 
+Passionate Pilgrim, where also are found Il. 
+60-73 and Il. ro1-120 of the next scene, also 
+with some interesting points of difference. 
+
+IV, iii. 108. ‘ Wish,’ so the Quartos and first 
+Folio; in the’ Passionaie Pilgrim ‘ wish’d me 
+similarly in the line 112 ‘thorn’ is due to the 
+version printed in England’s Helicon; the other 
+editions read ‘throne.’ Rowe first proposed 
+the change. ; 
+
+IV. iii. 142, The second Folio omits’ one. i 
+Walker’s suggestion ‘One’s’ makes the line 
+rhythmic, 
+
+IV. iii. 146. ‘ Faith infringed,’ the reading of. 
+the Quartos and the Folio; ‘ faith so infringed’ 
+seems the most satisfactory emendation pro- . 
+posed. 
+
+IV. iii. 166. ‘a gnat,’ perhaps alluding to the 
+fact that it sings. as it flies. Biron refers 
+probably to the King’s sonnets. 
+
+IV. iii. 248. ‘wood’; Quartos and Folios 
+read ‘ word.’ 
+
+IV. iti, 255. “School of night’; so the early 
+
+
+editions; ‘scowl,’ ‘stole, ‘soul? ‘ Scrolls” |e 
+“ seal,’ “ shade,’ have been proposed by various f 
+scholars; possibly, as the Cambridge editors 
+
+
+suggest, ‘school’ is an error for “ shoote, 1.e. 
+suit, 
+
+ices 5 
+reads :— 
+
+
+31. In Quarto and Folio the line 
+
+
+“Bome boon for boon priscian, a little scratcht 
+twill serve.’ 
+
+
+V. i. 133. Capell proposed ‘ or’ for ‘and % 
+the passage is evidently corrupt. 
+
+V. ii. 67. ‘ perttaunt-like’; this word is the 
+crux of the play, the early editions read ‘ pert- 
+taunt-like ’ and*‘ pertaunt-like.’ Theobald reads 
+“ pedant-like,’ and other editors suggest ‘ por- 
+tent-like,’ ° pageant-like,’ ‘ potently,’ ‘ persuant- 
+like.’ It is perhaps worth while suggesting that 
+the phrase (tant) pour tant (quasi ‘ tit for tat’) 
+perhaps underlies the word: it may well have 
+been used in some game: Mr. Marshall quotes 
+bur Tant from a poetical description of an old 
+game, but no explanation has as yet been ad- 
+vanced... 
+
+V. ii. 32. “To show his teeth as white as 
+whale’s bone’; this should certainly be printed 
+whalés bone, the regular name for walrus tusk 
+in old English. \ 
+
+V. ii. 338. ‘ Madman,’ obviously an error for 
+“man’; ‘mad’ probably due to ‘madam’ in 
+the next line. 
+
+V. ii. 568-569. According to Plutarch, Alex- 
+ander’s head had a twist towards the left; he 
+states also that Alexander’s skin had “a mar- 
+vellous good savour.” 
+
+V. ii. 593. ‘ Canis’; ‘ canus’ in the old edi- 
+tions, required for the sake of the rhyme. 
+
+V. ii. 750-751. The meaning of these some- 
+what obscure lines seems to be that ‘ the latest 
+minute of the hour (cp. line 797) often fashions 
+or moulds all causes or questions to the pur- 
+noses of his speed, that is, to his own intents’: 
+“the extreme parts are the end parts, ‘ ertremi. 
+tes ’—as, of our body, fingers; of chains, the 
+fnal links; of given portions of time. the last 
+
+
+e NOTES 
+
+
+1335 
+
+
+of those units into which we choose to divide 
+them.” Observe ‘forms’ for ‘form’ by at- 
+traction of ‘time.’ In the next lines the meta- 
+phor is derived from archery. 
+
+V. ii. 762. ‘ Double’; so Quartos and Folios; 
+many modern editors adopt ‘dull’ from the 
+Collier MS. 
+
+V. ii. 773. ‘ Strange’; 
+
+
+the Quartos and 
+
+
+Folios read ‘ straying,’ probably merely a vari- 
+ant spelling of ‘ strange.’ 
+V. ii, 885. ‘Jack hath not Jill,’ cp. Midsum- 
+mer Night’s Dream, III. ii. 461:— 
+“Jack shall have Jill: 
+Nought shall go ill: 
+The man shall have his mare again, and all shall 
+be well,”’ 
+
+
+A Midsummer-Night’s Dream—Notes 
+
+
+TI. i. 10. ‘new-bent’; Rowe’s correction of 
+
+“now bent,’ the reading of the Quartos and 
+folios. 
+- J. i. 11. ‘ Philostrate’ is the name assumed 
+vy Arcite in Chaucer’s Knight’s Tale; it occurs 
+00 in Plutarch’s Lives, where are to be found 
+also the names, Lysander, and Demetrius. 
+
+I. i. 27. The second Folio reads, ‘ this hath 
+bewitched ’; the earlier edition ‘ this man’; per- 
+aps we should read ‘ this man hath ’witched,’ 
+
+I. i. 44. ‘our law’; Solon’s laws gave a 
+-ather the power of life and death over his 
+shild. 
+
+I. i. 159, 160. These lines should perhaps be 
+transposed. 
+
+I. i, 167. ‘to do observance to a morn of 
+May,’ cp. Knight’s Tale, 1500; ‘ And for to 
+doon his observance to May.’ 
+
+I. i. 219. ‘ stranger companies’; Theobald’s 
+emendation of ‘ strange companions,’ which is 
+the reading of the Quartos and Folios. 
+
+I. ii. 11. ‘ The most lamentable comedy,’ &c. 
+Cp. the title of Preston’s Cambyses, ‘a lament- 
+able tragedy mixed full of pleasant mirth’; &c. 
+
+I. ii. 55. ‘ Thisne, Thisne,’ so the Quartos and 
+Folios: perhaps this spelling was intentional 
+to represent Bottom’s attempt to speak the name 
+‘in a monstrous little voice.’ The words may, 
+rowever, be an error for ‘ thisne, thisne,’ i.e. 
+in this manner, in this manner,’ ‘ thissen’ be- 
+ing used in this sense in various dialects. 
+
+Il. i. 54, 55. The Quartos and Folios read 
+“coffe . . . loffe, for the sake of the rhyme. 
+
+II. i. 58. ‘room’; probably pronounced as a 
+dissyllable. 
+
+II. i. 78. ‘ Perigenia,’ called ‘ Perigouna’ in 
+North’s Plutarch; she was the daughter of the 
+
+
+‘famous robber Sinnis, by whom Theseus had a 
+
+
+son, Menaloppus. 
+
+II. i. 79. ‘ Zgle’; Rowe’s correction for 
+* Eagles’ of the Quartos and Folios; probably 
+‘Eagles’ was for ‘ #gles, a form due to 
+North’s Plutarch, where it is stated that some 
+think Theseus left Ariadne ‘‘ because he was in 
+love with another, as by these verses should ap- 
+pear, 
+
+
+“ Zigles the nymph was lov’d of Theseus, 
+Who was the daughter of Panopeus.”’ 
+
+
+II. i. 80. ‘ Antiopa,’ said to be the name of 
+the Amazon queen, and the mother of Hip- 
+polytus. 
+
+Il. i. 231. ‘Daphne holds the chase’; the 
+story tells how Apollo pursued Daphne, who 
+Mies changed into a laurel-tree as he reached 
+
+er. 
+
+TIl. i. 26-47. This was probably suggested by 
+
+
+an actaul incident which occurred during the 
+Kenilworth festivities, when one Harry Gold- 
+ingham, who was to represent Arion upon the 
+Dolphin’s back, tore off his disguise and swore 
+he was none of Arion: (cp. Scott’s use of this 
+story in Kenilworth). 
+
+III. i. 190. ‘Squash,’ i.e, an unripe peascod. 
+
+III. ii. 36. ‘latch’d’; the word ‘latch’ in 
+this passage, as Prof. Skeat has pointed out, is 
+not connected with the ordinary ‘ latch,’ ‘to 
+catch,’ but is etymologically the casual form of 
+‘leak,’ and means ‘to cause to drop, to drip.’ 
+
+III. ii. 3119. ‘sport alone,’ i.e. ‘by itself, 
+without anything else’; others render ‘alone’ 
+by ‘above all things, without a parallel.’ 
+
+Ill. ii. 188. ‘ oes’; 0 was used for anything 
+round, among other things for circular discs of 
+metal used for ornaments, cp. Bacon, Essay 
+xxxvii.: ‘‘ And Oes, and Spangs, as they are of 
+no great cost, so they are of most glory.” 
+
+III. ii. 204. ‘needles,’ a  monosyllable; 
+4 perdle * was often spelt ‘neeld’ in Old Eng- 
+lish. 
+
+III. ii. 212-214. “‘ Helena says, ‘we had two 
+seeming bodies but one heart.’ She then ex- 
+emplifies her position by a simile—‘ we had two 
+of the first, i.e. bodies, like the double coats in 
+heraldry that belong to man and wife as one 
+person, but which, like our single heart, have 
+but one crest.’ ” 
+
+Ill. ii. 257. ‘No no; he’ll . . . seem’; the 
+first Quarto ‘heele seem’; the second ‘ hee’l 
+seem’; the first Folio ‘ No, no, Sir, seem.’ The 
+passage is clearly corrupt in the old editions. 
+I am inclined to accept Mr. Orson’s ingenious 
+suggestion :— 
+
+
+“No no, sir; still 
+Seeme to breake loose,” 
+
+
+“heele’” being an easy misreading of ‘ stille.” 
+
+V. i. 31. a reasonable good ear in music’; 
+weavers were supposed to be fond of music. 
+more especially of psalm-singing; cp. 1 Henry 
+IV., II. iv. 146, ‘I would were a weaver, I 
+could sing psalms.’ 
+
+IV. i. 47. ‘So doth the woodbine the sweet 
+honeysuckle’; commonly ‘ woodbine’ is iden- 
+tical with ‘honeysuckle,’ but it is also used 
+by Elizabethans for ‘convolvulus’ and ‘ ivy.’ 
+Shakespeare, however, uses the word in twa 
+other passages (II. i. 251 and Much Ado, III. 
+i. 30) in the sense of ‘honeysuckle’; hence 
+Warburton suggested :— 
+
+
+“So doth the woodbine, the sweet honeysuckle 
+Gently entwist the maple, ivy so,” &c. 
+
+
+1336 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+- 8 res 
+
+
+Johnson thought that ‘ woodbine’ was the plant, | &c. 
+| effort 
+
+
+and ‘honeysuckle’ the flower. These sugges- 
+tions are not satisfactory: the simplest way 
+out of the difficulty is to take ‘ woodbine’ as 
+equivalent to ‘convolvulus’ or ‘ bindweed’; 
+cp. Ben Jonson’s Vision of Delight :— 
+
+
+“ behold! 
+How the blue bindweed doth itself unfold 
+With honeysuckle.’ 
+
+
+IV. i. 78. ‘ Dian’s bud’; it has been thought 
+that perhaps ‘ Dian’s bud’ =‘ Diana’s rose,’ 
+“the rose of England’s Virgin Queen’; ‘ Diana’s 
+Rose’ is actually used in this complimentary 
+sense in Greene’s Friar Bacon. 
+
+IV. i. 87. ‘Than common sleep, &c.; the 
+Quartos and first two Folios read ‘ sleepe: of 
+all these, fine the sense’; the correction is 
+Theobald’s. 
+
+IV. i. 95. ‘ prosperity’; so the first Quarto; 
+the second and Folios ‘ posterity.’ 
+
+
+i. 121. fountains’; perhaps an error 
+for ‘mountains.’ 
+V. i. 47. ‘ my kinsman He~-::]25’ + cp. North’s 
+
+
+Plutarch, Life of Tneseus: * they (Theseus and 
+Hercules) were near kinsmen, being cousins 
+removed by the mother’s side.” 
+
+V. i. 54. ‘critical,’ i.e. ‘censorious’ as in 
+the well-known utterance of Iago, ‘I am noth- 
+ing, if not critical’ (Othello, Il. i. 120). 
+
+V.i. 59. ‘woncrous strange snow’; strange” 
+is hardly the epithet one would expect, and 
+various emendations have been suggested:— 
+“strange black,’ ‘ strong snow,’ ‘ swarthy snow,’ 
+‘sable-snow,’ ‘and, wondrous strange! yet 
+snow,’ Perhaps the most plausible conjecture 
+is Mr. S. W. Orson’s ‘ wondrous faming snow,’ 
+cp. “ What strange fits be these, Philautus, that 
+burne thee with such a heat, that thou shakest 
+for cold, and all thy body in a shivering sweat, 
+in a flaming ice, melteth like wax and hardeneth 
+like ay adamant ” (Lyly’s Euphues, ed. Arber, 
+gir). 
+
+Z V. i. 91. ‘And what poor duty,’ &c.; Cole- 
+ridge proposed :— 
+
+
+“And what poor duty cannot do, yet would, 
+
+
+Noble respect takes it,’ &c. 
+The metre is defective as the lines stand. 
+Theobald read ‘ poor willing duty . . . Noble 
+
+
+respect.’ The meaning is sufficiently clear, and 
+recalls Love’s Labour’s Lost, V. ii. 517, ‘ That 
+Sport best pleases that doth least know how,’ 
+
+
+The Merchant of Venice—Notes oy 
+
+
+THE name ‘ Shylock’ may have been derived 
+by Shakespeare from a pamphlet called ‘ Caleb 
+Shillocke his prophecies. or the Jewes Predic- 
+tion’; the Pepysion ballad on this subject be- 
+longs to the year 1607; to the same year be- 
+longs a prose piece printed at the end of a 
+rare tract called ‘4A Jewes prophecie, or Newes 
+from Rome of two mighty armies, &c. Its 
+ultimate origin is unknown; it may have been 
+an Italian name Sciolocca. According to 
+
+
+Takes tt in might — regards the ability or 
+of the performance. 
+
+V. i. 118. “stand upon points’; Quince’s 
+punctuation reminds one of the reading of 
+Roister Doister’s letter to Mistress Constance 
+in the old comedy (cp. Roister Doister, iii. 3)- 
+
+V. i. 140. ‘name’; as there is no rhyme to 
+name, the loss of a line is to be inferred, or 
+perhaps we should read ‘which by name Lion 
+hight.’ 
+
+V. i. 209. ‘ mural down’; the Quartos read 
+“Moon used’; the Folios ‘ morall downe’; the 
+emendation ‘ mural’ was due to Pope. 
+
+. V.i. 227. ‘alion-fell’; the Quartos and Folios 
+read ‘a lion fell,’ t.e. a fierce lion, but Snug 
+wishes to say ‘he is not a lion,’ wherefore the 
+words have been hyphened by most modern edi- 
+
+
+tors, ‘lion-fell,’ t.e. ‘a lion’s skin.’ Johnson 
+understood ‘neither’ before ‘a lion fell’; 
+Rowe read ‘No lion fell.’ There is, I think, 
+a more obvious emendation, and I propose:— 
+
+
+“Then know that I, one Snug the joiner, n’am 
+A lion fell, nor else no lions dam,’ 
+
+
+“n’am’ being an archaic form, like nill (i.e. 
+ne will). In Gascoigne’s Steele Glas the fol- 
+lowing couplet occurs, remarkably suggestive 
+of our text:— 
+
+
+““T n’am a man, as some do think I am; 
+(Laugh not good lord), I am indede a dame.” 
+
+
+V. i. 275, 276. Spedding proposed to invert 
+these lines. 
+
+V. i. 279. ‘ gleams’; the Quartos and Foli 
+1 read ‘beams’; Folio 2 ‘ streams.’ r 
+
+V. i. 325-7. ‘he for a man—God bless, us, 
+omitted in the Folios, probably in consequence 
+of the statute of James I. forbidding profane 
+speaking, or use of ‘the holy name of God.’ 
+
+V. i. 330. ‘ means,’ changed by Theobald to 
+“moans.’ ‘ Mean’ in the sense of ‘ to lament,’ 
+an archaic form, is really more correct than 
+‘moan,’ and probably intentionally used by 
+Shakespeare to harmonise with the archaisms of 
+the interlude. . 
+
+V. i. 379. ‘behowls’; Theobald’s emendation 
+of ‘beholds,’ the reading of the Quartos and 
+Folios. 
+
+V. i. 402. ‘this ditty’; Johnson supposes that 
+two songs are lost, one led by Titania, and one 
+by Oberon. 
+
+V. i. 426, 427. These lines should obviously 
+be transposed in order to make sense of the, 
+passage. “om 
+
+
+Hunter, Scialac was the name of a Maronite 
+of Mount Libanus, who was living in 1614. 
+
+I. i. 27. ‘dock’d’; Rowe’s emendation for 
+‘docks,’ the reading of the Quartos and Folios. 
+
+I. i. 113. ‘Is that any thing new’? The ol 
+editions read ‘Ts that any thing now, changed _ 
+to ‘new’ by Johnson. Rowe first suggested the _ 
+interrogation. Wy: 
+
+. li. 83. ‘the Scottish lord’; in the firs{ 
+Folio ‘ Scottish’ is changed to ‘ other.’ ¥ 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+1337 
+
+
+I. ii. 88. *‘ Alluding to the constant assist- 
+
+_ ance, or rather, constant promises of assistance, 
+
+that the French gave the Scots in their quarrels 
+with the English’? (Warburton). 
+
+I. ii. 135. ’ The four strangers’; allusion has 
+been made to six strangers. An _ interesting 
+oversight on the poet’s part. 
+
+I. iii. 65. ‘Is he yet possess'd How much ye 
+would,’ so read the second and third Quartos; 
+
+y the Folios read ‘he would’; the first Quarto 
+‘are you resolv’d how much he would have’: 
+this is one of the important points in which the 
+second Quarto is superior to the first. 
+
+I. iii, 72. Cp. Genesis xxx. 
+
+I. iti. 75. ‘the third,’ i.e. ‘reckoning Abra- 
+ham himself as the first.’ 
+
+LT. iti: 135. {A breed for barren metal’; the 
+reading of the Folio ‘a breed of’; ‘for’ must 
+be equivalent to ‘in exchange for’; ‘breed’ — 
+‘interest money bred from the principal’ (cp. 
+
+: Gr. t6xos). 
+
+i II. i. The old stage direction ran as fol- 
+lows:— Enter Morochus a tawnie Moore all 
+ss 4m «~white, and three or four followers accord- 
+ingly, with Portia, Nerissa and their traine.’ 
+
+: II. i. 25. ‘the Sophy, cp. “ Sofi, and Sofito, 
+h an ancient word signifying a wise man, learned 
+and skillful in Magike Naturale. 
+to be the common name of the Emperour of 
+Persia” (Abraham Hartwell’s translation of 
+Minadoi’s History of the Wars between the 
+; 
+
+
+It has grown 
+
+
+Turks and the Persians). 
+The ‘Sefit of Persia’ is mentioned in the 
+German play Der Jude von Venedig. 
+_ II. i. 35. ‘ page’; Theobald’s emendation for 
+a *rage,’ the reading of all the old editions. 
+pe II. ii. 92. Gobbo’s ‘you,’ as a mark of re- 
+4 spect, changes to ‘thou,’ after the recognition. 
+; II. ii. 169. ‘‘ Long and deep lines from the 
+‘ of the thumb) 
+signifieth so many 
+
+
+Mount of Venus (the ball 
+towards the line of life, 
+' wives. 
+. . . These lines visible and deep, so many 
+wives the party shall have” (Saunder’s Chiro- 
+-mancie, quoted by Halliwell). , 
+II. iii. 12. ‘ did’; the Quartos and first Folio 
+read ‘doe’; the reading ‘did’ was first given 
+in the second Folio; if this is adopted, ‘ get’ — 
+
+
+_ fore Paris, and when many of his men-at-arms 
+died of cold (Stowe). fa 
+TI. v. 36. ‘ Jacob’s staff’; cp. Gen. xxxii. and 
+Heb. xi. 21. ‘A Jacob’s staff’ was generally 
+used in the sense of ‘a pilgrim’s staff,’ because 
+St. James (or Jacob) was the patron saint of 
+pilgrims. 
+Il. v. 43. ‘A Jewess’ eye’; the Quartos and 
+Folios read ‘a Jewes eye,’ probably pronounced 
+“ Jewés;’ ‘worth a Jew’s eye’ was a proverbial 
+phrase: ‘that worth was the price which the 
+sd Jews paid for immunity from mutilation and 
+
+
+death.? The reading “ Jewess’”’ seems very 
+4 doubtful. Y 2 : 
+oD . II. vi. 51. ‘by my hood’; this phrase is 
+L found nowhere else in Shakespeare; according 
+
+
+to Malone, Gratiano is in a masqued habit, to 
+which it is probable that formerly, as at pres- 
+. ent, a large cape or hood was affixed. 
+4 II. vii. 41. ‘the Hyrcanian deserts’; Shake- 
+4 3peare three times mentions the tigers of Hyr- 
+
+
+ean, ‘the name given to a district of indefi- 
+
+
+nite extent south of the Caspian,’ where, ac- 
+cording to Pliny, tigers were bred. 
+
+Il. vii. 53. ‘ undervalued’ “in the beginning 
+of Elizabeth’s reign, gold was to silver in the 
+proportion of 11 to 1; in the forty-third year 
+of her reign it was in the proportion of ro to 
+1” (Clarendon). 
+
+II. vii. 69. ‘tombs do’; Johnson’s emenda- 
+tion for the old reading ‘ timber do.’ 
+
+II. vii. 75. Halliwell notes that this line is a 
+paraphrastical inversion of the common old 
+proverb: ‘ Farewell, frost,’ which was used in 
+the absence or departure of anything that was 
+unwelcome or displeasing. 
+
+Ill. i. 10. ‘Knapped ginger’; perhaps ‘to 
+kunap ginger’ is to ‘nibble ginger’; old women 
+were fond of this condiment: Cotgrave invari- 
+ably gives ‘knap’ as a synonym of ‘ gnaw’ or 
+“ nibble.’ 
+
+Ill, i. 72. ‘humility,’ rightly explained by 
+Schmidt as ‘kindness, benevolence, humanity.’ 
+
+III. i. 126. The special value of the ‘ tur- 
+quoise’ was its supposed virtue in indicating 
+the health of the wearer: it was said to brighten 
+or fade as its wearer was well or ill, and to give 
+warning of approaching danger. 
+
+III. ii. 54. ‘more love’; because Hercules 
+rescued Hesione not for love of the lady, but 
+for the sake of the horses promised him by 
+Laomedon. 
+
+III. ti. 99. ‘veiling an Indian beauty’; it 
+has been pointed out that Montaigne in his 
+Essay on ‘ Beauty’ says: “The Indians de- 
+scribe it black and swarthy, with blabbered 
+thick lips, with a broad and flat nose.” If 
+Shakespeare gives us a reminiscence of this, 
+he must have read Montaigne in French, as 
+Florio’s translation was not published until 
+1603. 
+
+Ill. ii. ro2z. ‘Hard food for Midas,’ who 
+prayed that everything be touched might turn 
+to gold, and soon regretted his prayer. 
+
+III. ii. 106. ‘ paleness’; as ‘Bassanio uses 
+‘pale’ of silver a few lines before, Theobald, 
+on Warburton’s suggestion, proposed to read 
+“plainness’; but ‘pale’ is a regular epithet 
+of lead, and there seems no reason for chang- 
+ing the reading here. 
+
+IIL. ii. 112. ‘rain,’ the reading of the sec- 
+ond Quarto, ‘rein.’ is generally preferred. 
+
+II. v. 82. ‘ And if on earth he do not mean 
+it, then In reason’; the second Quarto ‘ it, it’; 
+the Folios ‘it, it is.’ 
+
+Various emendations have been suggested 
+for ‘ mean.’ but no change is necessary ‘ mean’ 
+= ‘aim at.’ A kind correspondent, Mr. S. W. 
+Orson, calls attention to Herbert’s use of the 
+word in ‘The Church Porch’ (E. Stock’s re- 
+print of the first edition) ‘‘ Shoots higher 
+much than he than means a tree” (p. 12), and 
+“Scorns his first bed of dirt, and means the 
+sky’ (p. 163). 
+
+V. i. 36. ‘Our holy Sabbath’; so the first 
+Quarto; the second reads ‘ Sabaoth’; it is just 
+possible that Shakespeare might have been mis- 
+ted by the expression, ‘ Lord God of Sabaoth,’ 
+which occurs in the New Testament. ‘ Sab- 
+hath’ and ‘Sabaoth’ (i.e. ‘hosts,’ in the 
+nhrase ‘Lord of hosts’) were confused even 
+by Sir Walter Scott, when in Ivanhoe, ch. x. 
+he refers to “the gains of a week, aye the 
+space between two Sabaoths.’”’ Similarly Spen- 
+ser (F. Q. viii. 2) 
+
+“But henceforth all shall rest eternally 
+
+With him that is the God of Sabaoth hight’ 
+
+
+1338 
+
+
+Dr. Johnson treated the two words as identi- 
+cal in the first edition of his Dictionary. 
+
+IV. i. 50. ‘affection, Mistress of passion’; 
+the Quartos and Folios read ‘affection. Mas- 
+ter of passion.’ The reading now generally 
+adopted was first suggested by Thrilby; ‘ Mais- 
+tres’ or ‘mastres,’ the old spelling of ‘ mis- 
+tress’ evidently produced the error. ‘ Affec- 
+tion,’ when contrasted with ‘ passion,’ seems 
+to denote ‘emotions produced through the 
+senses by external objects.’ 
+
+IV. i. 56. ‘a wollen bag-pipe’; the reading 
+of all the old editions; ‘ wawling,’ ‘ swollen,’ 
+“bollen,’ have been variously suggested; ‘ wooj- 
+
+
+fen” probably refers to the covering of the 
+wind-bag. 
+IV. i. 184. Cp. ‘Mercy is seasonable in 
+
+
+the time of affliction, as clouds of rain in 
+the time of drought,” Ecclesiasticus, xxxv. 
+
+
+20. 
+
+IV. i. 255. ‘Are there balance’; ‘ balance’ 
+was frequently treated as a plural by Eliza- 
+bethan writers, though this is the only instance 
+
+
+in Shakespeare. 
+V. i. 4. ‘ Troilus’; the image is from Chau- 
+cer’s Troilus and Cresseide: ‘“ Upon the wallis 
+
+
+fast eke would he walke’? (Bk. v. 666). 
+
+V. i. 7-14. ‘ Thisbe,’ &c. Hunter (New Illus- 
+trations, i. 309) ingeniously suggests that the 
+old Folio of Chaucer was lying open before 
+Shakespeare when he wrote this dialogue, 
+and that there he found Thisbe, Dido, and 
+Medea, as well as Troilus. It is certainly 
+
+
+NOTES = 
+
+
+—_—_—_. 
+
+
+striking that Thisbe, Dido, and Medea follow 
+each other in the ‘Legend of Good Women.’ 
+Shakespeare has seemingly transferred to 
+Dido what he found in Chaucer’s Legend con- 
+cerning Ariadne (‘And to the stronde bare- 
+fote faste she went ’—‘ And turne agayne, and 
+on the stronde hire  fyinde.’) Chaucer’s 
+Medea directed Shakespeare’s mind to Ovid, 
+Metam, VII. 
+
+V. i. 15. ‘Jessica’; Medea, who stole away 
+from her father ‘Eetes, with the golden fleece, 
+suggests Jessica’s own story to Lorenzo. 
+
+V. i. 61, &c. “ The corresponding passage 
+in Plato is in his tenth book De Republica, 
+where he speaks of the harmony of the 
+Spheres, and represents a syren sitting on 
+each of the eight orbs, and singing to each 
+in its proper tone, while they are thus guided 
+through the heavens, and consent in a diapason 
+of perfect harmony, the Fates themselves 
+chanting to this celestial music ” (Du Bois, 
+The Wreath, p. 60, quoted by Furness). The 
+Platonic doctrine is, however, blended with 
+reminiscences of Job xxxviii. 7, “The morn- 
+ing stars sang together.” 
+
+. 1. 64. ‘close it in’; Quarto 1 and Folios 
+
+read ‘in it,’ which some editors have taken 
+as equivalent to ‘ close-in-it.’ 
+- i, 193. A similar repetition of the word 
+‘love’ at the end of ten consecutive lines is 
+found in ‘ The Fayre Mayde of the Exchange’ 
+(1607); cp. Edward III. Act II. sc. i., where 
+“the sun’ ends eight consecutive lines. 
+
+
+As You Like It—Notes 
+
+
+DraMATIS PERSONAE. The pronunciation of 
+“Jaques’ is still somewhat doubtful, though 
+the metrical test makes it certain that it is 
+always a dissyllable in Shakespeare: there is 
+evidence that the name was well known in 
+England, and ordinarily pronounced. as a 
+monosyllable; - hence” Harrington’s Metamor- 
+phosis of A-jax (1596). The name of the 
+character was probably rendered ‘ Jakés’; the 
+modern stage practice is in favour of ‘ Jaq- 
+
+
+owes.” 
+
+I. i. 1. ‘tt was upon this fashion: be- 
+queathed,’ &c. The Folio does not place a 
+stop at ‘fashion,’ but makes ‘ bequeathed’ a 
+past participle; the words ‘ charged’ pee 
+“on his blessing’ presuppose ‘he’ or ‘my 
+father’;- the nominative may, however, be 
+easily supplied from the context, or possibly, 
+but doubtfully, ‘a’ (=—‘he’) has been 
+omitted before ‘charged.’ There is very 
+much to be said in favour of the Folio read- 
+ing; a slight confusion of two constructions 
+seem to have produced the difficulty.. War- 
+burton, Hanmer, and Capell proposed to in- 
+Sert ‘my father’ before ‘ bequeathed.’ 
+Others punctuate in the same way as in the 
+present text, but read ‘he bequeathed’ or 
+“my father bequeathed’; the Cambridge 
+editors hold that the subject of the sentence 
+is intentionally omitted. 
+
+I. ii. 89. The Folio prefixes ‘ Rosalind’ to 
+the speech: Theobald first proposed the 
+change to ‘Celia,’ and he has been followed 
+by most editors. Capell suggested ‘ Fernax- 
+
+
+dine’ for ‘ Frederick’ in the Previous speech. 
+Shakespeare does not give us the name of 
+Rosalind’s father: he is generally referred to 
+
+
+as “Duke Senior’; Celia’s father is men- 
+tioned as ‘Frederick’ in two other places (1 
+246 of this scene, and V. iy. 160). One has, 
+
+
+however, a shrewd suspicion that Touchstone 
+is referring to the exiled king as ‘ola Fred- 
+erick,’ and that Rosalind speaks the words 
+“my father’s love is enough to honour him;? 
+the expression is so much in harmony with 
+her subsequent utterance, Il. 247-250:— 
+
+
+“My father loved Sir Rowland as his soul.’ 
+And again, in the next scene, 1. 30:— 
+“The Duke my father loved his father dearly,’ 
+
+
+ii. 220.‘ You mean’; Theobald proposed 
+“An’ you mean,’ and the Cambridge editors 
+Suggest that ‘and’ for ‘an’ (= if) may be 
+the right reading, omitted by the printer, 
+who mistook it for part of the stage-direction 
+“Orl. and’ for ‘ Orland.’ 
+
+I. ii. 284. ‘the taller’; but Rosalind is later 
+on described as ‘ more than common tall,’ and 
+Celia as ‘the woman low, and browner than 
+her brother’; probably ‘taller’ is a slip of 
+Shakespeare’s pen: ‘ shorter,’ “smaller,” ‘ less- 
+
+
+er,” ‘lower,’ have been variously proposed; 
+of these “lJesser’ strikes one perhaps as most 
+Shakespearian. 
+
+
+T. ii?. roa. ‘chanee’ &¢.. Felio r+ the other 
+
+
+of Egypt.’ 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+Folios read ‘charge,’ i.e. 
+the true reading. 
+
+I. iii.-130. There has been much discussion 
+of the scansion of this line; several critics, in 
+their anxiety to save Shakespeare from the 
+serious charge of using a false quantity, pro- 
+pose to accent ‘Aliena’ on the penultimate, 
+but for all that it seems most likely that the 
+line is to be read:— 
+
+
+‘burden,’ probably 
+
+
+“No fongler Cél|ya bit| Alf|ena.’ 
+
+
+If. i. 5. ‘here feel we but’; Theobald first 
+
+
+“conjectured ‘ but’ for ‘ not’ of the Folios, and 
+
+
+his emendation has been accepted by many 
+scholars, though violently opposed by others. 
+Most of the discussions turn on ‘the penalty 
+of Adam,’ which ordinarily suggests toil—‘ in 
+the sweat of thy brow shalt thou eat bread ’— 
+but in this passage Shakespeare makes the 
+penalty to be ‘‘the seasons’ difference,” cp. 
+Paradise Lost, x. 678, 9:— 
+
+
+“Else had the spring Perpetual smiled on 
+earth with vernant flowers.’ 
+
+
+II. i. 13-14. ‘like the toad, ugly and ven- 
+omous,’ &c. favourite Euphuistic conceit, 
+e.g. ‘The foul toade hath a faire stone in his 
+head,’ Euphues, p. 53 (ed. Arber), based on 
+an actual belief in toadstones. The origin of 
+the belief is traced back to Pliny’s description 
+of a stone as ‘of the colour of a frog.’ 
+
+II. iii. 12. “no more do yours,’ a somewhat 
+loose construction, but one easily understood, 
+the force of the previous sentence being ‘to 
+some kind of men their graces serve them not 
+as friends.’ 
+
+Il. iii. 71. ‘seventeen’; Rowe’s emendation 
+for ‘ seaventie’ of the Folios. 
+
+II. iv. 1. ‘ weary’; Theobald’s emendation 
+for ‘merry’ of the Folios, and generally 
+adopted; some scholars are in favour of the 
+Folio reading, and put it down to Rosalind’s 
+assumed merriment; her subsequent confession 
+as to her weariness must then be taken as an 
+aside, : 
+
+Il. iv. 52. ‘from whom,’ t.e. from the peas- 
+cod; similarly ‘her’ in the next line: hé was 
+
+
+wooing the peascod instead of his mistress. 
+
+
+Il. v. 3. ‘turn,’ so the Folios: Pope substi- 
+tuted ‘tune’; but the change is unnecessary; 
+according to Steevens ‘to turn a tune or note’ 
+Gs still a current phrase among vulgar 
+musicians. 
+
+II. v. 63. ‘Til ratl against all the first-born 
+According to Johnson ‘the frst- 
+born of Egypt’ was a proverbial expression 
+for high-born persons, but it has not been 
+found elsewhere. Nares suggests that per- 
+haps Jaques is only intended to say that, if 
+he cannot sleep, he will, like other discon- 
+tented persons, rail against his betters, There 
+is no doubt some subtler meaning in the 
+words, and the following is possibly worthy of 
+consideration:—Jaques says if he cannot sleep 
+he'll rail again all first-borns, for it is the 
+question of birthright which has caused him 
+“leave his wealth and ease,’ merely as he-had 
+Previously put it ‘to please a stubborn will’: 
+this idea has perhaps suggested Pharaoh’s 
+stubbornness, and by some such association 
+“all first-borns’ became ‘all the first born of 
+Egypt;” or, by mere association, the meaning- 
+less tag ‘of Egypt’ is added by Jaques to 
+
+
+1339 
+Se ee ee Se Ee ae 
+round off the phrase, and to give it some sort 
+of colour. 
+
+II. vii. 19. Touchstone of course alludes to 
+the common saying ‘Fortune favours fools,’ 
+cp. “Every man out of his humour,’ I. i. 
+
+Sogliardo, Why, who am I, sir? 
+
+Macilente. One of those that fortune favours: 
+
+Carlo, [Aside] The periphrasis of a fool. 
+
+II. vii. 34, 36. ‘A worthy fool’ . . .‘O, 
+worthy fool’: the ‘A’ and ‘QO’ should prob- 
+ably change places, according to an anonymous 
+conjecture noted in the Cambridge Edition. 
+
+II. vii. 55. ‘Not to seem’; the words ‘not 
+to’ were first added by Theobald: the Folios 
+read ‘seem’; Collier, following his MS. cor- 
+rections, proposed ‘but to seem’; the meaning 
+is the same in both cases. Mr Furness follows 
+Ingleby in maintaining the correctness of the 
+text, and paraphrases thus:—‘‘ He who is hit 
+the hardest by me must laugh the hardest, and 
+that he must do so is plain; because if he is 
+a wise man he must seem foolishly senseless 
+of the bob by laughing it off. Unless he does 
+this, viz., shows his insensibility by laughing 
+it off, any chance hit of the fool will expose 
+every nerve and fibre of his folly.” 
+
+Il, vii. 73. ‘the weary very means,’ the read- 
+ing of the Folios (Folios 1 and 2 ‘ wearie’; 
+Folios 3, 4, “weary’). Pope proposed ‘ very 
+very’; Collier (MS.) ‘the very means of 
+wear’; Staunton ‘ weary-very,’ or ‘ very-weary.’ 
+Others maintain the correctness of the original 
+reading, and explain, ‘until that its very 
+means, being weary or exhausted, do ebb.’ A 
+very plausible emendation was suggested by 
+Singer, viz., ‘wearer's’ for ‘weary,’ and it 
+has rightly been adopted by several editors: 
+ep. Henry VIII. I. i. 83-5:— 
+
+
+€ 
+
+
+“O, many 
+Have broke their backs with laying manors on 
+"em 
+For this great journey.’ 
+
+
+II. vi. 178. ‘ because thou art not seen,’ i.g 
+“as thou art an enemy that dost not brave us 
+with thy presence’? (Johnson): several un- 
+necessary emendations have _been proposed, e.g. 
+“Thou causest not that teen’ (Hanmer); °‘ Be. 
+cause thou art foreseen’ (Staunton), &c. 
+
+II. vii. 189. ‘ As friend remember’d not,’ t.e. 
+‘as forgotten friendship,’ or ‘as want an un- 
+remembered friend feels’: cp. ‘ benefits forgot,’ 
+supra, 
+
+Ill. ii, 119. ‘the very false gallop,’ cp. 
+Nashe’s Four Letters Confuted, ‘‘I would trot 
+a false gallop through the rest of his ragged 
+verses but that if I should retort his rime 
+dogrell aright, I must make my verses (as he 
+doth his) run hobling like a Brewer’s Cart upon 
+
+
+ne Stones, and observe no length in their 
+eet.” 
+III. ii. 163. ‘ pulpiter’: Spedding’s sugges- 
+
+
+tion for ‘Jupiter’ of the Folios. 
+
+III. ii. 439. ‘ Mving,’ i.e. lasting, permanent; 
+the antithesis seems to require ‘ loving,’ which 
+has been substituted by some editors: it is note- 
+worthy that in some half-dozen instances in 
+Shakespeare ‘ live’ has been printed for ‘ love,’ 
+but it is questionable whether any change is 
+justifiable here. 
+
+III. iii. 5, 6. ‘your features! . what 
+features?’ Farmer’s conjecture ‘ feature!... 
+what’s feature’ seems singularly plausible; cp. 
+1, 17,-‘I do not know what “ poetical” is? 
+
+TL) aii, ‘S8xDSher;. so Folios. 29 >: * hts? 
+
+
+1340 
+
+
+NOTES 3 ee 
+
+
+Folios 3, 4: the female bird was the falcon; the 
+male was called ‘ tercel’ or ‘ tassel.’ 
+
+Ill. iv. 48. ‘noble goose’; Hanmer substi- 
+tuted ‘nose-quilled’ for ‘noble,’ which is, of 
+course, used ironically. 
+
+Ill. v. 7. ‘dies and lives,’ i.e. ‘lives and 
+dies,’ i.e. ‘subsists from the cradle to the 
+Zrave’; the inversion of the words seems to 
+have been an old idiom; cp. ‘ Romaunt of the 
+Rose,’ v. 5790:— 
+
+
+“With sorwe they both die and live, 
+That unto Richesse her hertis yive.’”’ 
+
+
+Other passages in later literature might be 
+adduced where the exigencies of metre do not 
+exist. 
+
+IV. i. 154. ‘like Diana in the fountain.’ 
+Stow mentions in his Survey of London (1603) 
+that there was set up in 1596 on the east side 
+of the cross in Cheapside “a curiously wrought 
+tabernacle of grey marble, and in the same an 
+alabaster image of Diana, and water conveyed 
+from the Thames prilling from her naked 
+breast.” It is very doubtful whether Shake- 
+speare is referring to this particular ‘ Diana,’ 
+as some have supposed. 
+
+IV. ii. 13. The words ‘Then sing him home, 
+the rest shall bear this burden,’ are printed 
+as one line in the Folios. Theobald was the 
+first to re-arrange, as in the text. Knight, Col- 
+lier, Dyce, and others take the whole to be a 
+stage-direction. Knight first called attention to 
+the fact that possibly the original music for 
+this song is_to be found in John Hilton’s 
+“Catch that Catch Can; or, a Choice Collection 
+of Catches, Rounds,’ &c., 1652 (printed Fur- 
+ness, p. 230, 231). 
+
+IV. iii. 76. ‘ fair ones’; Mr. Wright suggests 
+that perhaps we should read ‘fair one,’ and 
+Mr. Furness assents to the view that ‘ Shake- 
+speare seems to have forgotten that Celia was 
+apparently the only woman present. But 
+surely it is noteworthy that Ojiver a few line 
+lower down gives the description:—‘ The boy is 
+fair,’ &c. 
+
+iii. 88. ‘like a ripe sister: the woman 
+low’; the pause at the woman low czxsura 
+takes the place of a syllable. 
+
+IV. iii. 102. ‘chewing the food,’ usually 
+quoted as ‘chewing the cud,’ a correction of 
+the line first suggested by Scott (cp. Introduc- 
+tion to Quentin Durward). 
+
+V. ii. 21. ‘fair sitser’; Oliver addresses 
+“Ganymede’ thus for he is Orlando’s counter- 
+feit Rosalind (cp. IV. iii. 93). Some inter- 
+
+
+The Taming of the Shrew—Notes 
+
+
+Invuct. i. 9, “go by, Jeronimy’; a popular |‘ leech’; Keightley, ‘bathe’; Singer (ed. 2). 
+phrase from Kyd’s Spanish Tragedy—* the ‘trash, &c. 
+common butt of raillery to all the poets in Induct. i. 64. ‘ And he says he is,’ &e., so 
+
+
+Shakespeare’s time.” ; 
+Induct. i. 17. ‘ Brach Merriman’; ‘ brach’ 
+usually means a.female hound, as in the next 
+
+
+preters of Shakespeare are of opinion that © 
+Oliver knows the whole secret of the situation. 
+
+V. ii. 77. ‘which I tender dearly’; probably 
+an allusion to the Act ‘against Conjuracons, 
+Inchantments, and Witchcraftes,” passed under 
+Elizabeth, which enacted that all persons using 
+witchcraft, &c., whereby death ensued, should 
+be put to death without benefit of clergy, &c. 
+
+V. iii. 17. Chappell printed the music of the 
+song from a MS., now in the Advocates’ Li- 
+brary, Edinburgh, belonging to the early part 
+of the seventeenth century (cp, Furness, pp. 
+262, 263). In the Folios the last stanza is 
+made the second. Mr. Roffe is of opinion that™ 
+Shakespeare contemplated a trio between the 
+Pages and Touchstone. : 
+
+V. iv. 4. ‘As those that fear they hope, and 
+know they fear.’ A large number of unneces- 
+sary emendations have been proposed for this 
+plausible reading of the Folios; e.g. ‘ fear, they 
+hepe, and know they fear’; ‘fear their hope 
+and hope their fear’; ‘fear their hope and 
+know their fear,’ &c. The last of these gives 
+the meaning of the line as it stands in the text. 
+
+V. iv. 94. ‘ we quarrel in print, by the book’; 
+Shakespeare probably refers to “ Vincentio 
+Saviolo his Practise. In two Bookes. The first 
+intreating the use of the Rapier and Dagger. 
+The second of Honor and honorable Quar- 
+rels”’ ; printed in 1594. 
+
+V. iv. 95. ‘books for good manners,’ e.g. 
+“A lytle Booke of Good Manners for Chyldren 
+with interpritation into the vulgare Englysshe 
+tongue by R. Whittinton, Poet Laureat’’; 
+printed at London in 1554; (cp. Dr. Furnivall’s 
+Book of Norture of John Russell, &c., pub- 
+lished by the Early English Text Society, 
+1868). Cp. Hamlet, V. ii. 149, “he (i.e. 
+Laertes) is the card of calendar of gentry, a 
+probable allusion to the title of some such 
+‘book of manners.’ 
+
+V. iv. 120. ‘her hand with his’; the first 7 
+and second Folios ‘his hand’; corrected to 
+“her’ in the gecond and third Folios. 
+
+V. iv. 154. ‘even daughter, welcome’; Theo- 
+bald proposed ‘ daughter-welcome,’ i.e. ‘ welcome 
+as a daughter.’ Folios 1, 2, 3, read ‘ daughter 
+welcome’; Folio 4, ‘ daughter, welcome.’ The — 
+sense is clear whichever reading is adopted, — 
+though the rhythm seems in favour of the 
+reading in the text: ‘O my dear niece,’ says the 
+Duke, ‘nay, daughter, welcome to me in no 
+less degree than daughter.’ ; 
+
+Epilogue, 18. ‘If I were a woman’; the 
+part of Rosalind was of course originally taken 
+by a boy-actor: women’s parts were not taken 
+by women till after the Restoration. y 
+
+
+ae 
+
+
+the old eds. 
+
+
+Sincklo, the name of an actor in Shake- 
+speare’s company, who is mentioned also in 
+stage-directions of Quarto edition (1600) of 
+2 Henry IV., V. iy., and in the Folio, 
+3 Henry V1., III. i. f 
+
+_ Induct. if 88. ‘ Soto’ is a character in Beau- 
+mont and Fletcher’s Women Pleased. 
+
+I. i. 32. Cp. The Taming of a Shrew:— 
+
+
+“Welcome to Athens, my beloved friend, 
+To Plato’s school and Aristotle’s walks.’ 
+
+
+Shere 
+
+
+ks 42. ‘If Biondello, thou wert’; the 
+_ Collier MS. reads ‘now were’; Dyce adopts 
+
+
+this emendation. ; 
+I. i, 64. ‘To comb your noddle with a three- 
+_ legg’d stool’; an old expression occurring in 
+_ Skelton’s Merrie Tales. ‘“Hys wife would 
+divers times in the weeke kimbe his head with 
+a iii. footed stoole.”’ 
+— OF. i. 240. ‘I, sir! ne’er a whit.’ 
+‘posed ‘Ay, sir, ne'er,’ &e.; Dyce, ‘Ay, sir.— 
+_ WNever.’ It is difficult to determine whether 
+: “I’ is the personal Pronoun, or stands, as is 
+often the case, for ‘ Ay.’ 
+A. i. 253-4. ‘The presenters,’ i.e. 
+his attendants in the balcony above. 
+~ _ I. ii. 28. ‘what he ’leges in Latin *; the 
+_ Folios and Quarto, ‘/eges,’ an authorised form 
+for ‘alleges’; Grumio, strange to say, though 
+_an Italian, mistakes Italian for Latin. 
+Wii. rgr-2. ‘paper’ . ‘them’; changed 
+by Pope to ‘papers’: Mr. Daniel considers 
+paper’ to be the note of the ‘books,’ and 
+‘them’ the books. f 
+Il. i. 75-84, arranged as verse in the Folios 
+and Quarto, first printed as prose by Pope. 
+_ IL. i. 202. ‘no such jade as you’; probably 
+
+
+Rowe pro- 
+
+
+Sly and 
+
+
+fret its three senses are, I think, punned 
+mn by the speakers:—(i.) a simpleton (I. 207); 
+/ .) a mean hawk (Il. 208, 209); in the Jatter 
+"case Petruchio interprets it as (iii.) ‘a buz- 
+zing insect,’ hence ‘you wasp’ (I, 210.) 
+_ Katharine’s reply seems to mean:— that, in 
+calling her a turtle, he has mistaken a hawk 
+or a dove’; underlying this retort there may 
+be a suggestion of the proverbial ‘blind buz- 
+rard.” 
+
+Il. i. 296. ‘ morn’; cp. Troilus, 1. iii, 229:— 
+
+
+Modest as morning when she coldly eyes 
+The youthful Phebus.’ 
+
+
+| The Collier MS. has‘ moone.’ _ ; 
+XII. i, 325. ‘We will have rings and things,’ 
+probably a fragment of an old ballad. Collier 
+uotes some lines bearing a very strong re- 
+semblance to these “from the recitation of an 
+_ old lady ”—a vague authority, 
+
+
+1341 
+
+
+Il. i. 377. ‘ Marseilles’ road,’ Folio 1 and 
+Quarto, ‘ Marcellus’; the other Folios ‘ Mar- 
+sellis’; the word is obviously trisyllabic; the 
+apostrophe is not needed, cp. ‘ Venice gold,’ 
+“Pisa walls’ in the previous speech. 
+
+III. i. 4. Theobald proposed ‘ she is a shrew, 
+but, wrangling pedant, this is’; evidently 
+some words are lost, but it is useless to at- 
+tempt the restoration of the line, as there is 
+no evidence. 
+
+III. ii. 16. ‘make friends, invite, and pro- 
+claim the banns’; so Folio r and Quarto; 
+Folios 2 and 3 insert “yes’ before ‘and.’ The 
+more noteworthy suggestions are:—‘ Make 
+friends invite, Yes’ (Singer); “ make friends 
+invite guests’? (Dyce); “‘ make feasts, invite 
+friends” (Dyce, ed. 2). 
+
+IV. i. 143. ‘Where is the life that late I 
+led’; a’ line of an old song, quoted also by 
+Pistol; ‘cp. 2 Henry IV., ili, 147. Sim- 
+ilarly “dt was the friar of orders grey,’ &c., 
+is a bit of an old ballad, now lost. 
+
+i. 211. ‘to kill a wife with kindness,’ 
+a_ proverbial expression. Heywood’s play, A 
+Woman Killed with Kindness, was first pro- 
+duced in 1602. 
+
+IV. ii. 45. ‘longeth’; the Folios and 
+Quartos correct ‘longeth,’ without apostrophe; 
+
+
+“to long’ in the sense of ‘ to belong? is com- 
+mon in older English writings. Similarly 
+‘pointed’ in old eds-rbil. 130) 15 
+
+TV. ii. 61. An ancient angel’; so the 
+Folios and Quartos; Theobald suggested 
+“engle’ (a gull); other proposals have been 
+ayeul, gentle, morsel, antick, &c., but no 
+
+
+change is necessary. 
+lot 4 la grosse escaille 
+by metaphor, a fellow 
+and worthie stamp.” 
+
+IV. iii. 60. ‘ ruffling treasure YD 
+“ruffling’ to ‘ rustling’; 
+tread ‘russling’ (for ‘ rustling’). \Cp. Lear, 
+i 304, where the Guarto reading is 
+* while the Folios have ‘ruffle’ Mrs. 
+“rushling in silk and gold’ (Merry 
+Wives, II. ii. 68) seems to be an important 
+piece of evidence in favour of “ rustling,’ 
+
+IV. iv. 62. ‘ Cambio,’ probably an error for 
+ Biondello,’ ‘as suggested by the Cambridge 
+editors, and more satisfactory from a metrical 
+point of view. Again, ‘the supposed Cambio 
+was not acting as Baptista’s servant, and 
+moreover, had he been sent on such an errand, 
+he would have ‘flown on the wings of love’ 
+to perform it. We must suppose that Bion- 
+dello apparently makes his exit, but really 
+waits till the stage is clear for an interview 
+with his disguised master.” 
+
+V. i. 31. ‘his father has come from Padua,’ 
+so the Folios and Quartos; various changes 
+have been proposed, e.g. ‘to Padua,’ ‘from 
+Pisa,’ &c., but the Pedant means that he has 
+been staying at Padua, 
+
+
+Cotgrave renders Ange- 
+by “an old angell; and 
+of the old, sound, -honest 
+
+
+Pope changed 
+perhaps we should 
+
+
+1342 NOTES 
+All’s Well that Ends Well—Notes 
+I. i. 91, 92 tards’ for ‘ bated.’ Knight took ‘bated’ to 
+mean “ excepted,’ Schmidt ‘ beaten down.’ 
+
+
+“These great his remembrance 
+more 
+
+
+Than those I shed for him;’ 
+
+
+tears grace 
+
+
+i.e. “the big and copious tears she then shed 
+herself, which were caused in reality by Ber- 
+tram’s departure, though attributed by Lafeu 
+and the Countess to the loss of her father; 
+and from this misapprehension of theirs graced 
+his remembrance more than those she actually 
+shed for him.” 
+
+i, 121-178. These lines are struck out 
+by some editors; the Cambridge editors rightly 
+call them ‘a blot on the Play’ they were 
+probably “an interpolation, ‘to tickle the ears 
+of the groundlings.’’? The opening words of 
+the speech which follows are obscure, and the 
+enumeration of ‘the loves’ looks like ‘the 
+nonsense of some foolish conceited player.’ 
+Hanmer proposed:— 
+
+
+‘Not my virginity yet.—You're for the Court: 
+There shall your master, &c. 
+
+
+N | He scattered not in ears, but 
+poe them,’ ; ‘‘ cp. the Collect in the Liturgy: 
+“Grant we beseech thee, Almighty God, that 
+the words which we have heard this day with 
+our outward ears may through thy grace be 
+so grafted inwardly in our hearts, that they 
+
+
+ii, 54. 
+
+
+wey bring forth the fruit of good living,” &c. 
+I. ii. 56. ‘thts,’ so the Folio; Pope read 
+‘Thus,’ possibly the right word here. 
+
+
+I. ili. 25. ‘ service is no heritage’; the idea 
+seems to be , that, “if service is no blessing, 
+children are’; Psalm cxxvii. 3 has been ap- 
+propriately cited in connection with this ex- 
+
+
+pression:—‘‘ Lo, children are_an heritage of 
+the Lord.” 
+I. iii. 56. ‘Young Charbon the puritan and 
+
+
+old Poysam the papist’; ‘ Charbon’ possibly for 
+‘Chatr-bonne,’ and ‘Poysam’ for 
+alluding to the respective lenten fares of the 
+Puritan and Papist (cp. the old French prov- 
+erb, ‘Jeune chair et viel poisson’ = young 
+flesh and old fish are the best). 
+
+I. iii. 119. “ + + queen of virgins’ ; Theo- 
+bald inserted ‘ Dian no’ before ‘ queen.’ 
+
+Teedvet. (20 hOvd Si. ‘lords’; probably 
+the young noblemen are divided into two sec- 
+tions according as they intend to take service 
+with the ‘Florentines’ or the ‘Senoys’ (cp. 
+Note vi. Cambridge edition). 
+
+Il. i. 12-15. ‘let higher Italy, —Those bated,’ 
+&e.; the passage is probably corrupt. « Higher 
+Italy’ has been variously interpreted to mean 
+(1) Upper Italy; (2) the side of Italy next to 
+the Adriatic (but both Florence and Sienna are 
+on the other side); (3) Italy higher in rank 
+and dignity than France; (4) the noblest of 
+Italy, the worthiest among Italians. Johnson 
+paraphrased as follows:—‘ Let upper Italy, 
+where you are to exercise your valour, see 
+that you come to gain honour, to the abate- 
+ment, that is, to the disgrace and depression 
+of those that have now lost their ancient mili- 
+vary fame, and inherit but the fall of the last 
+monarchy.’ Schmidt proposed ‘high’ for 
+
+higher’: Coleridge ‘hired’: Hanmer ‘ bas- 
+
+
+* Poisson,’ 
+
+
+Souk ts 32-3. “No sword worn but one to 
+dance with’; alluding to the light swords worn 
+for dancing. 
+
+
+TT 1,. 64. ‘rl fee’; Theobald’s emendation. 
+Folios, ‘ Ile see.’ 
+Il. i. 80-1. ‘To give great Charlemain a 
+
+
+pen tn’s hand’; Charlemagne late in life at- 
+tempted to learn to write. 
+TD 1. 8176: 
+
+
+‘ne worse of worst extended, 
+With vilest torture let my hfe be ended’; 
+
+
+So Folio 1; the other Folios read ‘no’ for 
+“ne. Malone’s ‘nay’ for ‘ne’ commends 
+itself, though his explanation of ‘ extended’ as 
+“my ‘body. being extended on the rack’ seems 
+weak: it is probably used here simply in the 
+sense of ‘meted out to me,’ or merely used 
+for the purpose of emphasising ‘ worse of 
+worst.’ A mass of conjectural emendations 
+are recorded in the Cambridge edition of the 
+
+
+play. 
+
+II. ii. 24. ‘Tib’s rush for Tom’s fore- 
+finger’; ‘Tib and Tom’ were used like ‘ Jack 
+and Jill’; Tib was a cant term ,for any low 
+or vulgar woman. ‘Rush rings’ were some- 
+times used at marriage ceremonies, especially 
+where the marriages were somewhat doubtful 
+(cp. Douce’s Illustrations, p. 196). 
+
+II. iii. 1-46. Johnson changed the distribu- 
+tion of the speakers, so as to. bring out ‘ the 
+whole merriment of the scene,’ which, accord- 
+ing to him, “consists in the pretensions of 
+Parolles to knowledge and sentiments which 
+he has not.’’ Johnson has been generally fol- 
+lowed by modern editors. The Folio arrange- 
+ment has been 1 kept in the Cambridge text. 
+
+II. iit, 27. “a showing of a heavenly effect 
+im an earthly actor’; the title of some 
+pamphlet is evidently ridiculed in these words. 
+
+Il. iii. 81. “Imperial | Love’; Folio 1, ‘im- 
+pertall loue’; Folio 2, « imperial Iove’; Folio 
+
+
+BF ‘impartial Jove.’ 
+t.e. two aces; the 
+
+
+Il. iii. 84. ‘ ames-ace,’ 
+
+lowest throw at dice; one would expect it, 
+from the context, to mean just the contrary, 
+But Lafeu is probably making ‘a comparison by 
+contraries,’—‘ an ironical comparison,’ used 
+with humorous effect. ‘One lauding a sweet- — 
+songed prima donna,’ aptly observed Brinsley 
+Nicholson, ‘‘says, I’d rather hear her than 
+walk a hundred miles with peas in my boots.” 
+
+II. v. 29. ‘end’; the Folios have ‘ And’; 
+the correction, from the Ellesmere copy of the 
+first fae has been generally adopted. 
+
+Mea “Haz 'e or will to deserve’; Ma- 
+lone proposed “have qualities or will,’ &e.; — 
+Singer, ‘ wit or will’; the later Folios omit 
+“to,” and read have, or will deserve’; the 
+conc ries in the text is that of Folio 1- 
+
+III. i. 12-13. 
+
+
+“That the great figure tak a council frames 
+By self-unable motion’ 
+
+
+probably Clarke’s explanation of these difficult 
+lines is the best:—‘‘ The reasons of our state 
+I cannot give you, excepting as an ordinary — 
+
+
+—- * 
+
+
+| 
+| 
+i 
+y 
+
+
+ss oe ee oe Ee, 
+
+
+So ie ical 
+
+
+-tainment, which is to hale 
+
+
+‘jaset’s’ 
+
+
+va 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+and uninitiated man, whom the august body 
+of a government-council creates with power 
+unable of itself to act, or with power incapable 
+of acting of its own accord or independently.” 
+
+Qthers make ‘that’ the subject of ‘ frames,’ 
+explaining ‘motion’ as ‘mental sight,’ or 
+* intuition.’ 
+
+Tit. ii. 9. 
+“hold’; Warness proposed 
+manner for.’ 
+
+III. ii. 68. ‘If thou engrossest all the griefs 
+are thine’ ; the omission of the relative is 
+common in Shakespeare. Rowe unnecessarily 
+altered the iy to ‘all the griefs as thine.’ 
+
+III. ii, 93. ‘holds him much to have’; so 
+the Folios; > Theobald conjectured | soils "him 
+much to have’; others suggested ‘ hoves him 
+not much to have’ 3 ‘fouls him much to have, 
+&c. Rolfe’s view of the passage seems by far 
+the most satisfactory:—‘‘He has a deal of 
+that too-much, i.e. excess of vanity, which 
+makes him fancy he has many good qualities.” 
+
+
+“ sold’; so Folios 3, 4; Folios 1, 2, 
+“holds a goodly 
+
+
+Il]. ii. 113. ‘ still-peering air’; so Folio 1; 
+Folio 2, ‘ still-piercing’; probably an_ error 
+for ‘ slill-piecing,’ t.e. ‘still-closing.’ A pas- 
+
+
+sage in The Wisdom of Solomon has been ap- 
+propriately compared, and may be the source 
+of the thought:—“ As when an arrow is shot 
+at a mark, it parteth the air, which timmediately 
+cometh together again, so that a man cannot 
+know where it went through.” 
+
+III. v. 69. ‘I write, good creature,’ so 
+Folio 1; Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘I right’; Rowe, ‘Ah! 
+right good creature!’ The Globe edition, ‘J 
+warrant, good creature’; Kinnear, “I war’nt 
+(warrant), good creature’ (cp. Hamlet, I. 
+fi. 243, Quarto | 2, “I war'nt’). 
+
+ps ES aa ba “John Drums Entertainment’ 
+“to give a person John Drum’s mutertsmment) ; 
+probably meant to give him such an entertain- 
+ment as the drum gets; hence ‘to give a per- 
+son a drumming,’ to turn him forcibly out of 
+your company. Theobald quotes thé following 
+from Holinshed’s Descripiion of Ireland:— 
+“His porter, or none other officer, durst not, 
+for both his ears, give the simplest man ‘that 
+resorted to his house, Tom Drum ‘his enter- 
+aman in by the 
+head, and thrust him out by both the shoul- 
+ders.” In Marston’s interlude, Jack Drum’s 
+Entertainment (1601), Jack Drum is a servant 
+who is constantly baffled in his knavish tricks. 
+
+IV. i. 46. ‘Bajazet’s mule’; the allusion 
+has not yet been explained; perhaps ‘ Ba- 
+is a blunder on the part of Parolles 
+for ‘ Balaam’s.’ 
+
+
+IV. ii. 25. ‘Jove’s,’ probably substituted for 
+
+
+_ the original God’s, in obedience to the statute 
+“against 
+
+
+profanity. Johnson conjectured 
+*Love’s.’ 
+
+IV. ii. 36. ‘Who then recover’; the Folios 
+read, ‘who then recovers,’ changed unneces- 
+sarily by Pope to ‘which then recover,’ but 
+‘who’ is often used for ‘an irrational ante- 
+cedent personified,’ though in this passage the 
+antecedent may be ‘of me’ implied in ‘ my’ 
+
+my sick desires’ = ‘the sick desires of me’ 
+in ‘this latter: case ‘recovers’ is the more 
+common third person singular, instead of the 
+first eee after ‘ who.’ 
+
+IV. ii. pt see that men make rope’s in 
+such a “el pe the reading of Folios 1, 2; 
+Folio 3, “make ropes’; Folio 4, ‘ make ropes 
+. . . scar.” This is, one of the standing 
+eruxes in the text of Shakespeare; some thirty 
+emendations have been proposed for ‘ropes’ 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+1343 
+
+and ‘ scarre,’ e.g. ‘hopes . . . affairs’; ‘ hopes 
+. scenes’; * hopes scare’; ‘ slopes 
+scarre’: other suggestions are, ‘may cope’s 
+. sorte’; ‘may rope’s . . snarle’; ‘ may 
+rope’s ... snare,’ &c. The apostrophe in the 
+first and second Folios makes it almost cer- 
+tain that ‘’s’ stands for ‘ws,’ Possibly 
+
+
+‘make’ is used as an auxiliary; ‘ make rope’s’ 
+would then mean ‘do constrain, or ensnare us.’ 
+Or is ‘ make rope’ a compound verb? ‘ Scarre’ 
+may be ‘scare’ (i.e. ‘ fright’). The genera! 
+sense seems to be, ‘I see that men may reduce 
+us to such a fright, that we’ll forsake our- 
+selves.’ 
+
+IV. iii. 280. ‘He will steal, sir, an egg out 
+of a cloister,’ i.e. ‘anything, however trifling, 
+from any place, however holy.’ 
+
+IV. iii. 314. ‘and a perpetual succession for 
+it’; some such verb as ‘grant’ is to. be sup- 
+plied. Hanmer altered Sfor (tt stoi “anabes 
+Kinnear conjectured ‘ free in perpetuity.’ 
+
+
+IN: iv. 34. ‘revives’ ; so the Folios; ‘ re- 
+viles,’ ‘invites,’ “ requires’ have been vari- 
+ously proposed; it is doubtful whether any 
+change is necessary: ‘Time,’ says Helena, 
+
+
+“gives us fresh courage.’ 
+
+IV. v. 41. ‘an English name’; Folios 1, 2, 
+‘maine’; Folio 3, ‘main’; Folio 4, ‘mean’; 
+Rowe first suggested ‘name’; the allusion is 
+obviously to the Black Prince. 
+
+IV. v. 41. ‘his fisnomy is more hotter’; 
+Hanmer’s proposal ‘honour’d’ for ‘ hotter’ 
+seems to be a most plausible emendation. 
+
+
+V. i. 6. “Enter a Gentleman’; ; Folio I reads 
+‘A Pa: Astringer’; Folio es “A gentle 
+Astranger’; Folios 3, 4, ‘A Gentleman a 
+
+
+stranger. ‘ Astringer’ =a keeper of gos- 
+hawks; the word occurs nowhere else in 
+Shakespeare. There seems, however, no very 
+
+
+particular reason for its omission in modern 
+editions, though it is true that in the Folio 
+the speeches given to ‘the Astringer’ all 
+have fhe prefix ‘ Gent.’ 
+
+V. ii. * Good Monsieur Lawvache’; Folio 1, 
+IE. ; Folio 2, ‘ Lavatch’ Folios 3 Jc 
+‘ Levatch’; Tollet’s conjecture * Lavache* ‘has 
+been gentvally adopted. Clarke suggests that 
+it may have been intended for Lavage, which, 
+in familiar French, is used to express ‘ slop,’ 
+‘puddle,’ ‘washiness.? Something is to be 
+said in favour of Jervis’ proposed reading, 
+“ Lapatch,’ i.e. ‘patch’ = clown, with the pre 
+fix ‘la’ in imitation of ‘ Lafeu.’ 
+
+V. ii. 26. ‘ Similes of comfort’; Theobabld’s 
+certain emendation for the reading of the 
+Folios, ‘ smiles of comfort.’ 
+
+V. iii. 65, 66. 
+
+
+“Our own love waking cries to see what ’s 
+done, 
+
+While shameful hate sleeps out the after- 
+noon.’ 
+
+
+Johnson conjectured ‘slept’ for ‘sleeps,’ t.e. 
+‘love cries to see what was done while hatred 
+slept, and suffered mischief to be done.’ 
+Mason proposed ‘old’ for ‘own. W. G. 
+Clarke ingeniously emended ‘ shameful hate’ 
+into ‘shame full late,’ but the emendation de- 
+stroys the antithesis between ‘ Jove’ and ‘ hate.’ 
+It is best to leave the lines as they stand, 
+though the words ‘our own love’ are some- 
+what doubtful: the general meaning is simple 
+enough. 
+
+V. iii, 121. ‘ my fore-past proofs,’ &c.; 14.e. 
+“the proofs which I have already had are 
+
+
+1344 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+TTT nn eee ee 
+
+
+sufficient to show that my fears were not vain 
+and irrational. I have rather been hitherto 
+more easy than sought, and have unreasonably 
+had too little fear’’ (Johnson). 
+
+iii. 195. ‘He blushes, and ’tis it’; 
+Folios ‘’tis hit,’ which has been variously ex- 
+plained as an Archaic form of ‘it’: as an 
+error for ‘tis his,’ or ‘is hit.’ It seems un- 
+necessary to alter the Folio; ‘ ’tis hit’ can very 
+well mean ‘the blow has been well aimed, it 
+ane struck home,’ ‘it’ being used imperson- 
+ally. 
+
+V. iti. 216. ‘Her infinite cunning, with her 
+modern grace’; Walker’s certain emendation 
+of the Folio reading ‘her insuite comming’; 
+
+
+Twelfth Night; or, What You Will—Notes ie 
+
+
+I. i. 5. ‘sound’; so the Folios; Pope 
+changed it to ‘south, and editors have gen- 
+erally accepted this emendation, but it seems 
+unnecessary: Grant White appropriately asks, 
+““Did Pope, or the editors who have followed 
+him, ever lie musing on the sward at the edge 
+of a wood, and hear the low sweet hum of the 
+summer air, as it kissed the coyly-shrinking 
+wild flowers upon the banks, and passed on 
+loaded with fragrance from the sweet sa- 
+lute? ” 
+
+I. i. 22. ‘like fell and cruel hounds’; re- 
+ferring to the story of Actzon. 
+
+I. i. 38. ‘all supplied, and filled’; the comma 
+after ‘supplied’ is not in the Folio: its in- 
+sertion simplifies the lines. Others leave the 
+Folio reading, but bracket ‘her sweet per- 
+fections’ in the next line; making them ap- 
+positional to ‘ thrones.’ 
+
+I. ii. 15. ‘Arion on the dolphin’s back’; 
+the Folios misprint ‘ Orion’ for ‘ Arion.’ 
+
+I. iii. 74. ‘bring your hand to the buttery- 
+bar and let it drink’; “a proverbial phrase 
+among Abigails, to ask at once for a kiss and 
+a present”? (Kenrick). 
+
+I. iii. 100. ‘Then hadst thou had an excel- 
+lent head of hair’; Sir Toby evidently plays 
+upon ‘tongues’ and ‘tongs’ (t.e. curling- 
+tongs). 
+
+A. iii. 126. ‘an old man’; Theobald proposed 
+to read ‘a noble man,’ taking the allusion to 
+be to Orsino. Clarke explains ‘an old man?’ 
+as ‘a man of experience’; “the word old,” 
+he ‘adds, “ gives precisely that absurd effect 
+of refraining from competing in dancing, 
+fencing, &c., with exactly the antagonist in- 
+eapacitated by age over whom Sir Andrew 
+might hope to prove his superiority.” 
+
+I. iii. 148. ‘That’s sides and heart’; Sir 
+Andrew and Sir Toby are wrong in the parts 
+assigned to Taurus in the old astrological fig- 
+ures of the human body. Taurus was sup- 
+posed to govern the neck and throat. 
+
+I. iv. 3. ‘three days’; Mr. Daniel points out 
+in his ‘ Time-Analysis’ that this statement is 
+inconsistent with the Duke’s words in V. i. 
+102, ‘Three months this youth hath tended 
+upon me. ‘ 
+
+II. i. 19. ‘ Mesgaline’; possibly an error for 
+Mitylene, as Canell conjectured. 
+
+II. iii. 17. ‘the picture of “we three”’: 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+“a common sign, in which two wooden heads 
+
+
+other suggestions have been made:—‘ Her in- 
+
+
+stant comity’ (Bubier); ‘Her Jesuit cunning’ 
+(Bulloch); ‘Her own suit, coming’ (Perring). 
+
+Epil. 335. ‘The King’s a beggar’; an allu- 
+sion to the old story of ‘The King and the 
+Beggar’ (cp. Percy’s Reliques), often referred © 
+to by Shakespeare; cp. ‘Is there not a ballad, 
+boy, of the King and the Beggar’? (Love’s 
+Labour’s Lost, I. ii, 114); similarly Richard 
+II., V. iii. 80:— 
+
+
+“Our scene is alter’d from a serious thing, 
+And now chang’d to “ The Beggar and the 
+King.” ’ 
+
+
+; 
+. 
+
+
+are exhibited with this inscription under it, 
+“We three loggerheads be,’ the spectator being 
+supposed to make the third” (Malone). 
+
+Il. iii. 23-25. “ Pigrogromitus . . . of Oueu- 
+bus,’ &. Mr. Swinburne sees in these ‘ freaks 
+of nomenclature’® the direct influence of Ra- 
+eee (cp. A Study of Shakespeare, pp. 155, 
+156. 
+. iii, 40. ‘O mistress mine,’ &c. “this tune 
+is contained in both the editions of Morley’s 
+Consort Lessons, 1599 and 1611. It is also 
+found in Queen Elizabeth’s Virginal Book, 
+arranged by Boyd. As it is to be found in 
+print in 1590, it proves either that Shake- 
+speare’s Twelfth Night was written in or be- 
+fore that year, or that, in accordance with the 
+then prevailing custom. ‘O mistress mine,’ 
+was an old song, introduced into the play ” 
+(Chappell’s Popular Music of the Olden Time). 
+
+II. iii. 122. ‘ Out o” tune, sir: ye lie”; Theo- 
+bald proposed, ‘time, sir?’ which has been 
+very generally adopted. The reading of the — 
+Folios may well stand without change. Sir _ 
+Toby says to the Clown that he is out of tune 
+
+
+and lies in declaring ‘no, no, no, you dare 
+not’ (i.e. dare not bid Malvolio go). Hence 
+next words “Art any more than a steward,’ 
+addressed to Malvolio. 
+_ Ul. v. 44. ‘the lady of the Strachy’,; this 
+is one of the unsettled problems in Shake. 
+speare. Hunter ingeniously suggested that 
+Shakespeare ridicules, in the scene between the 
+Clown, as Sir Topas, and Malvolio (IV. ii.), 
+the exorcisms by Puritan ministers, in the 
+case of a family named Starchy (1506-99), 
+and that the difficult Strachy was a hint to the 
+audience to expect subsequent allusion to the 
+Sterchy affair. Others suggest “ Strosat,’ 
+* Stracci,’ ‘ Stratarch.’ Halliwell refers to a 
+Russian word meaning lawyer or judge. The 
+incident of a lady of high rank marrying her 
+steward is the subject of Webster’s Duchess 
+of Malfy. , 
+II. v. 70, 71. ‘with cars’; so Folio 1: the 
+later Folios, ‘with cares’; Johnson, ‘ with 
+carts’; many emendations have been proposed. 
+Clarke defends the original reading, and com- 
+pares ‘A team of horse shall not pluck that 
+from me’ (Two Gentlemen, III. i. 265). 
+mer’s suggestion ‘by th’ ears’ has been gen- 
+erally adopted. ‘ 
+Il. v. 166-7. ‘yellow stockings’; 
+
+
+NOTES — 1345 
+
+
+in Sere speare's time, and have 
+tered to our own day in the yellow 
+S$ worn by the ‘Blue Coat boys.’ 
+
+
+these coins which | 
+
+
+: Viele has given him. 
+‘IL. i. 62. ‘ Cressida was a beggar’; 
+
+- ing to the story Cressida finally ties a leper 
+
+a ame begged by the roadside.’ 
+
+yy ‘And, like the haggard, check at 
+
+Johnson pro- 
+
+? and this reading has 
+
+
+so the Folios; 
+
+
+ifaw when she forsakes her proper 
+and follows some other of inferior kind that 
+-erosses her in her flight” 
+fore of the Folio reading would be 
+must catch at every opportunity,’ 
+does not suit the context: 
+must be discriminative; hence ygansonis 
+
+
+the meaning there- 
+
+
+the wise Clown 
+
+
+‘aint their Sit ap * wisemens folly 
+ falne’; Hanmer and Berean. 
+ily shown’; ; the text is Theobald’s, and is 
+
+
+generally adopted. 
+
+
+not a bosom, Hides 
+
+
+g 
+a oO eee 132. 
+my heart’; the force of these words has, it 
+
+
+been missed; the point of the 
+its blackness but 
+Cp. “The Ballad of Robin Hood, 
+
+
+Scarlet and John’ 
+
+
+would seem, 
+
+
+“ Cypress over her face, 
+i Through which her rose- -like cheeks did blush 
+* All in a comely grace.” 
+
+
+« Bosom? must, I think, be used in this pas- 
+the bosom of the dress’ 
+
+
+sage in the sense GES : 
+Olivia says, 
+
+
+which conceals the body. 
+ean see my heart; a thin gauze as it were 
+hides it, not a stomacher.’ 
+) St4LF._ ii..28-29. ‘sailed into the north,’ 
+perhaps this is a reference to the espseee: of 
+
+Northern Nova Zembla by 
+= Ae >. C. H. Coote’s paper on 
+‘the new map: New Shakespeare So- 
+ci ey i Edel 
+“youngest wren of nine’ 
+
+
+’ emended by Theobald. The wren is 
+
+
+aa to lay nine or ten eggs at a time, and the 
+Staats hatched nestling is usually the smallest of 
+=aG whole brood. 
+
+
+“the new map with the aug- 
+
+
+6th century’: it is Fogid in the first edition 
+Hakluyt’s Voyages (1589), but as it records 
+discoveries made at least seven years later, it 
+was in all probability a separate map, well 
+known at the time, and made so as to be in- 
+_ serted_in Hakluyt: 
+
+
+the author was probably 
+was also the 
+
+
+/ Emmerie Mollineux, 
+first Englishman to make a terrestrial globe. 
+_ Tt is noteworthy that the map shows a marked 
+development of the geography of India proper, 
+} (Cp. Transactions of New Shakespeare 
+Society, | I 877-79-) 
+Soil “And thanks; and ever « » « 
+
+
+oft good turns.’ The Cambridge editors hold 
+that some word has dropped out between 
+‘ever’ and ‘oft. Many emendations have 
+been proposed; perhaps the simplest reading is 
+|that of the Old spelling Shakespeare:— 
+
+
+“And thanks, and, ever oft, good turns .. .* 
+
+
+“ever oft’ in the sense of ‘with perpetual 
+frequency.’ Theobald proposed :— 
+
+
+“And thanks, and ever thanks; and oft good 
+turns,” 
+
+
+IV. i. 14, 15. ‘I am afraid this great lubber, 
+the world, will prove a cockney’; so the 
+Folios; the lines evidently mean “I am afraid 
+affectation and foppery will overspread the 
+world”? (Johnson); it has been proposed to 
+change ‘world’ into ‘word’ (t.e. with refer- 
+ence to ‘vent’): others read ‘this great lub- 
+berly world’; Knight explains that the words 
+are spoken aside, and mean, ‘I am afraid the 
+world will prove this great lubber (Sebastian) 
+a cockney.” This seems very strained, and 
+probably the simplest reading of the passage 
+is the best. 
+
+IV. ii. 14. ‘the old hermit of Prague’; 
+Douce points out that the allusion is “‘ not te 
+the celebrated heresiarch, Jerome of Prague, 
+but another of that name, born likewise at 
+Prague, and called the hermit of Camaldoli in 
+Tuscany.” ; 
+
+IV. ii. 41. ‘ clearstories’; Folio 1, ‘ cleere 
+stores’; Folio 2, ‘cleare stones’; the reading 
+adopted is Blakeway’s conjecture in Boswell: 
+
+clerestory’ is the name given to the windows 
+above the arches of the nave of a Gothic 
+church. 
+
+IV. ii. 141, ‘ goodman devil’; Folio 1, ‘ good 
+man diuell’; Rowe’s ‘ goodman Drivel,’ seems 
+the most plausible emendation, if any is neces- 
+sary; Folio 2 reads ‘ good man Direll.’ 
+
+V.. i. 117. “My soul the faithfull’st offerings 
+hath breathed out’; the Folios ‘ have,’ cor- 
+rected by Capell, ey probably Shakespeare’s 
+own reading; the plural for the singular, owing 
+to the plural object (‘ faithfull’st offerings’) 
+preceding the verb. 
+
+V. i 206. “a passy measures pavin ’; ; Folio 1, 
+“panyn’; Folio 2, ‘ Pavin’; various emenda- 
+tions have been suggested, ‘but there is little 
+doubt that the reading in the text is the cor- 
+rect one. ‘ Passy measures’ is a corruption 
+of the Italian * passamezzo,’ which word 
+
+lorio explains as ‘a passa-measure in dane- 
+ing, a cinque pace’; it was a slow dance, 
+differing little from mie action of walking. 
+‘ Pavin” was a grave Spanish dance. Ac- 
+cording to Halliwell, the passy measures pavin 
+is described as: follows in an early MS. list 
+lof dances:—“ The passinge measure Pavyon— 
+2 singles and a double forward, and 2 singles 
+| syde.—Reprince back.” Sir Toby means, 
+therefore, that ‘the surgeon is a rogue and 
+a grave solemn coxcomb. 
+
+V; i. 370. ‘ against.’ Tyrwhitt’s conjecture 
+‘in’ has a good deal in its favour; ‘ against’ 
+may have been caught from line 368. 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+1346 NOTES 
+é 5 x 
+The Winter’s Tale—Notes 
+
+I. ii. 44. ‘What lady she her lord’; ‘she’ II. i. 153. ‘As you feel doing thus,’ proba- 
+has been variously interpreted; Collier and|bly = my doing thus to you (t.e, touching 
+Dyce proposed ‘should,’ destroying the beauty | him, or perhaps pulling his beard); ‘the in- 
+of the line; Schmidt makes the phrase ‘lady | struments that feel’ = my fingers. 
+she’ =‘a woman that is a lady,’ taking ‘ she’ II. iii. 178. ‘ to it own protection,” so Folios 
+= ‘woman’; others print ‘lady-she’; perhaps|1, 2; Folios 3, 4, ‘its’; the old possessive 
+the word may be best explained as the ple-|form ‘7t,’ still in use in Lancashire, occurs 
+onastic pronoun so common in popular po-|}again in this play (III. ii. ror); there are 
+etry; the rhythm seems to favour this latter |some dozen instances elsewhere: ‘it own,’ may 
+
+
+view. 
+foo al, 
+dream’d 
+
+
+70. ‘The doctrine of ill-doing, nor 
+?; so Folio 1; the later Folios, ‘xo 
+nor dream’d’; Spedding, ‘ neither dream’d’; 
+perhaps ‘ doctrine’ should be read as a tri- 
+syllable; a harsh line would, however, result; 
+and the reading of the later Folios has much 
+to commend it. 
+egellent31-2- 
+Folios, 1,- 2,, 35 
+been variously 
+
+
+‘false As o’er-dyed blacks’; 
+“o’re dy’d’; the words ‘have 
+interpreted to mean ‘ fabrics 
+dyed over with some other colour,’ or, ‘dyed 
+too much’; Steevens saw in the phrase an 
+allusion to the fact that black will receive no 
+other hue without discovering itself’ through 
+it; the passage may simply contain the idea, 
+
+‘the blacker the garb, the less sincere the 
+mourning.’ 
+
+I. ii. 154. ‘ methoughts’; so the Folios in 
+this and other places; this erroneous form 
+was probably due to ‘ methinks’; it is note- 
+worthy that the correct ‘ methought’ occurs a 
+few lines below. 
+
+
+I. ii. 284. ‘that,’ i.e. ‘that of which you 
+accuse her.’ 3 
+II. i. 11. ‘Who taught you this?’ Rowe’s 
+
+
+emendation of the reading of Folio I, “ taught 
+‘this’ (with an apostrophe before “ this,’ in- 
+dicating an elision); the later Folios, ‘ taught 
+
+
+this.’ 
+
+Ete Ts “A sad tale’s best for winter,’ 
+hence the title of the play. 
+
+II. i. 39-41. ‘There may be in the cup 
+A spider, &c.; it was formerly believed that 
+spiders were venomous. 
+
+Il. i. 134. ‘Ill: keep my stables where I 
+lodge my wife’; i.e. ‘I'll degrade my wife’s 
+chamber into a Stable or dog kennel.’ 
+
+II. i. 143. 
+“land-damm,’ ‘laudanum,’ ‘ lamback,’ 
+febat)5 half-damn,’ “ live-damn,’ ¢ lan- 
+dan (lantan, rantan),’ ‘ lant-dam,’ are among 
+the various emendations proposed; Schmidt 
+suggests ‘I would—Lord, damn him!’ In all 
+probability the reading of the Folios should not 
+be departed from, and it seems likely that 
+Antigonus, having in the previous phrase used 
+the word ‘damn’d,’ here uses ‘land-damn,’ 
+as a sort of grim quibble for ‘ landan,’—a 
+Glouchestershire word still in use “ to express 
+the punishment meted out to slanderers and 
+adulterers by rustics traversing from house to 
+house along the country side, blowing trumpets 
+and beating drums or pans and kettles; when 
+an audience was assembled the delinquents’ 
+mames were proclaimed, and they were said to 
+be landanned” (cp. Halliwell’s Dictionary of 
+Archaic Words, and Notes and Queries iii. 
+464): landan, lantan, rantan, were variants of 
+the same word, which was Probably’ imitative 
+in its origin, - : 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+sgl would land- damn him ’ 3 so the 
+
+
+be regarded as a sort of idiomatic compound, 
+the combination helping to maintain the archa- 
+“its? (Folio, it ’s) own,’ to be found in 
+
+ii. 266 is said to be the oniy instance 
+of its use in Shakespeare. 
+
+III. iii, 124. ‘ You ’re a made old man’; 
+Theobald’s emendation of the Folio reading 
+“mad, confirmed by a passage in ~ Shake- 
+speare’s original:—‘‘ The goodman desired her 
+to be quiet . if she could hold her peace 
+they were made for ever.’ 
+
+IV. i, 15. ‘to it,’ t.e. ‘the present.’ 
+
+EVE" i: ‘It is fifteen years since,’ 
+changed by Hanmer to ‘ sixteen,’ 
+intended by Shakespeare. 
+
+IV. iii. 23. ‘when the kite builds, look to 
+lesser linen’; alluding to this bird’s habit of 
+carrying off small linen garments hung out to 
+
+
+&e.; 
+the number 
+
+
+dry; <Autolycus preferred more _ substantial 
+prey. 
+IV. ili. 54. ‘I’ the name of me > prob- 
+
+
+ably, as has been suggested, the Clown’s ex- 
+
+
+clamation of ‘ Mercy’ is interrupted by Au- 
+tolycus. 
+IV. iv. 250. “ clamour your tongues’; Han- 
+
+
+mer’s emendation ‘charm’ has been generally 
+adopted, but ‘clamour’ is almost certainly 
+correct (Taylor, the Water-Poet, wrote 
+‘Clamour the promulgation of your tongues hs 
+“clamour’ or rather ‘clammer,’ is probably 
+radically identical with ‘clamber,’ the Scan- 
+dinavian original of which ‘klambra’ = ‘to 
+pinch closely together, to clamp.’ 
+
+V. iv. 279. ‘another ballad of a fish’; cp. 
+e.g. “‘A strange report of a monstrous fish 
+that appeared in the form of a woman from 
+her waist upward, seen in the sea”; entered 
+in the Stationers’ Registers in 1604. 
+
+
+V. iv. 442. “Far than Deucalien off’; “ far’ 
+= ‘farther’; >the’ Folios all correctly read 
+“farre,’” te. ‘the old form of the comparative 
+of ‘ far’ Phd 
+
+IV. iv. s92. ‘# the rear o’ her birth’; 
+Folios 1, 2, 3, ‘’our birth’; Rowe first 
+
+
+emended the line as in the text, though in his 
+second edition he read ‘0’ our’ for ‘o’ her.’ 
+
+IV. iv. 600. ‘appear,’ i.e. appear so (like 
+Bohemia’s son). 
+
+IV. iv. 731. ‘at palace’; Folio 1, ‘ at ’Pal- 
+lace’; probably the apostrophe indicates ‘‘ the 
+omission of the article or its absorption in 
+rapid pronunciation.” 
+
+V. ii. 60. ‘ weather-bitten conduit’; changed 
+to “ weather- beaten’ in Folio 3; but “ weather- 
+bitten’ is undoubtedly the correct form (cp. 
+Skeat’s Etymological Dictionary): conduits 
+were frequently _ in the form of human figures. 
+
+Viv lie tose that rare Italian master’ 
+Giulio Pippi, known as ‘ Giulio Romano,’ was 
+born in 1492, and died in 1546;. his fame as 
+a painter was widespread; Shakespeare. taking 
+
+
+we 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+’ 
+
+
+i a ll 
+
+
+av + 
+
+
+‘ NOTES 
+
+
+1347 
+
+
+him as ‘a type of artistic excellence,’ makes [Much has been made of this reference by the 
+
+
+him a sculptor; it must, however, be remem- 
+bered that the statue was a ‘ painted picture.’ 
+
+
+advocates of Shakespeare’s alleged Italian 
+journeys (cp. Elze’s Essays on Shakespeare). 
+
+
+The Life and Death of King John—Notes 
+
+
+I. i. 20. According to the Cambridge editors 
+the line must probably be scanned as an 
+Al xandrine, reading the first ‘ controlment’ 
+in the time of a trisyllable and the second as 
+a quadrisyllable. This seems very doubtful; 
+the irregularity of the line is not remarkable; 
+there is merely an extra syllable before the 
+pause :— 
+
+
+Contrél|ment for) contrélment || so dns|wer 
+France.| 
+I. i. 28. ‘ sullen presage of your own decay’; 
+
+
+there is perhaps an allusion here to the dismal 
+passing-bell, as Steevens suggested; according 
+to Delius, the trumpet of doom is alluded to. 
+There is, however, no difficulty in the thought 
+as it stands, without these references to a 
+secondary idea. 
+
+fig. “expedition’s’; 
+tious; an obvious misprint. 
+
+I. i. 54. ‘ Caur-de-lion’; ‘ Cordelion’ in the 
+Folios and old play; perhaps the spelling 
+should be kept as the popular form of the 
+name. 
+
+‘knighted in the field’; in ‘The Trouble- 
+some Reign’ he is knighted at the siege of 
+Acon or Acre, by the title of Sir Robert 
+ie of Montbery. 
+
+ba By ‘trick’; it has been suggested that 
+“ trick’ a used here in the heraldic sense of 
+‘copy’; it would seem, however, to be used 
+in a less definite sense. 
+
+I. i. 139. ‘sir Robert's his,’ so the Folios; 
+Theobald proposed ‘ sir Robert his,’ regarding 
+“his” as the old genitive form; Vaughan ‘ just 
+sir Robert’s shape’; Schmidt takes the ‘’s his’ 
+as a reduplicative possessive. Surely ‘his’ is 
+used substantively with that rollicking effect 
+which is so characteristic of Faulconbridge. 
+There is no need to explain the phrase as 
+equivalent to ‘his shape, which is also his 
+father Sir Robert’s’; ‘sir Robert’s his’ 
+‘sir Robert’s shape,’ this? emphasizing sub- 
+stantively the previous pronominal use of the 
+
+
+first Folio expedt- 
+
+
+word. 
+
+I. i. 143. ‘Look, where  three-farthings 
+goes’; three-farthing pieces of silver were 
+coined in 1561 (discontinued in 1582); they 
+
+
+were very thin, and were distinguished from 
+the silver pence by an impression of the 
+queen’s profile, with a Tose behind her ear. 
+
+
+reads ‘ /t 
+
+
+I. i. 147. ‘I would not’; Folio 1 
+would not,’ probably an misprint, though 
+Delius makes ‘it” refer to ‘ His face.’ 
+
+I. i. 234-5. ‘eat his part upon Good-Friday ’; 
+
+
+evidently a popular proverb, Heywood’s 
+
+
+Dialogue upon Proverbs: 
+
+
+cp. 
+
+
+“He may his parton Good Friday eat, 
+And fast.never the wurs. for onght he shall 
+zeot” (i.e. get». 
+
+
+I. i. 244. ‘Knight, knight, good mother, 
+Basilisco-like’; an allusion to ahe old play 
+called ‘Soliman and Perseda’ (printed 1599, 
+written probably some ten years. before); 
+Piston the buffoon, representing the old Vice 
+of the Morality Plays, jumps on the back of 
+Basilisco, the bragging coward, and makes him 
+take oath on his dagger :— 
+
+
+Bas. ‘I, the aforesaid Basilisco,—knight, 
+good fellow, knight, knight,— 
+Pist. Knave, good fellow, knave, knave.’ 
+(cp. Dodsley’s Old Plays, ed. Hazlitt, 
+
+
+. Vol. v. 271-2.) 
+II. i. 2. ‘that great forerunner of thy 
+blood’; Shakespeare, by some oversight, here 
+
+
+makes Arthur directly descended from Richard, 
+
+II. i. 5. ‘by this brave duke,’ so the old 
+play. Richard was, however, slain by an ar- 
+row at the siege of Chaluz, some years after 
+the Duke’s death. 
+
+IT. i. 64. ‘her niece, the Lady Blanch of 
+Spain, te. her grand-daughter; Blanch was 
+the daughter of John’s sister Eleanor and 
+Alphonso VIII. King of Castile. 
+
+4 ia ‘of the king’s deceased,’ 
+deceased king’; Folios 2, 3, 4, 
+Folio 1, ‘kings’ = ‘king’s’ is 
+correct. 
+
+II. i. 103. ‘ huge’ 
+less a misprint for 
+
+
+i.e. ‘ of the 
+‘king’; but 
+idiomatically 
+
+
+; Rowe read ‘ large,’ doubt- 
+‘huge’ restored by Capell. 
+
+II. i. 113. ‘ breast’; Folio 1, ‘ beast.’ 
+
+II. i, 119. ‘ Excuse; it-is,’ &c.; Malone’s cor- 
+rection of the Folios, ‘Excuse it is’; Rowe 
+(ed. 2) ‘Excuse it, ‘tis.’ 
+
+II. i. 137. ‘of whom the proverb goes,’ i.e. 
+*Mortuo leont et lepores tnsultant’; cp. Kyd’s 
+Spanish Tragedy, ‘ Hares may pull dead lons 
+by the beard.’ 
+
+Il. i. 144. ‘Great Alcides’ shows upon an 
+ass’; alluding to the skin of the Nemean lion 
+won by Hercules. The Folios read ‘ shooes’ 
+the reading of the text was first proposed by 
+Theobald. 
+
+
+II. i. 149. ‘King Philip,’ &c.; the line is 
+printed in the Folios as part of Austria’s 
+speech, with ‘King Lewis’ instead of ‘ King 
+
+
+Philip’; the error was first corrected by Theo- 
+bald. 
+
+II. i. 152. ‘ Anjou,’ Theobald’s correction of 
+‘ Angiers’ of the Folios. 
+
+II. i. 156. ‘ Bretagne’; Folios 1, 2, * Bri- 
+taine’; Folio 3, ‘ Britain’; Folio 4, ‘ Brittain.’ 
+
+II. i. 159. Il. 159 to 197 considered as spuri 
+ous by Pope. 
+
+TT. HeT6O TST. ae: 
+so Folios aig? si Folio 10 DPS. ese 
+Son, thea =<Capell, <“sf"%s ae as 
+In the Toaheashire "dialect ‘hit’ is still the 
+common form of the possessive, an archaism 
+used here in imitation of the language of the 
+nursery. } 
+
+
+old form ot possessive, 
+7; John- 
+
+
+1348 
+
+
+II. i. 167. “ whet.ver,’ monosyllabic; Folios 1, 
+2, 3, ‘where’; Folio 4, ‘ whe’re.’ 
+
+Ii. i. 177. ‘this is thy eld’st’; Capell’s 
+emendation of the Folios, ‘ this is thy eldest’; 
+Fleay proposed ‘ this’ thy eld’st’; Ritson, ‘ thy 
+eld’st,’ omitting ‘ this is.’ 
+
+
+II. i. 180. ‘the canon of the law,’ cp. Exo- 
+dus xx. 5. ms : 
+Il. i. 187. ‘ And with her plague; her sin his 
+
+
+injury, &c.; the Folios, ‘And with her plague 
+her sin: his injury,’ &c. The punctuation 
+adopted was first proposed by Mr. Roby, who 
+explains the passage thus:—‘‘ God hath made 
+her sin and herself to be a plague to this dis- 
+tant child, who is punished for her and with the 
+punishment belonging to her: God has made her 
+sin to be an injury to Arthur, and her in- 
+jurious deeds to be the executioner to punish 
+her sin: all which (viz., her first sin and her 
+now injurious deeds) are punished in the per- 
+son of this child.” 
+
+II. i. 196. ‘aim’; Folio 1, ‘ayme’; Folios 
+2, 3, 4, “ay me’; Rowe conjectured ‘ amen’; 
+Moberly, ‘hem’; Jackson, ‘ shame’; Johnson, 
+“ faime.’ 
+
+Il. i. 215. ‘ Confronts your,’ Capell’s emenda- 
+tion; Folio 1, 2, ‘Comfort yours’; Folios 3, 4, 
+“Comfort your’; Rowe suggested, ‘ Confront 
+your’; Collier, ‘Come ’fore your.’ 
+
+II. 1. 217. ‘ waist’; Folios 1, 2, 3, ‘ waste’; 
+Folio 4, ‘ waiste’; ‘doth’; the singular by at- 
+traction to the preceding word; Rowe, ‘ do.’ 
+
+II, i. 234. ‘Crave,’ so Pope; Folios read 
+© Craues.’ 
+
+Il. i. 259. ‘ roundure,’ so Capell; Folios read 
+“rounder’; Singer, ‘ rondure.’ 
+
+II. i. 262. ‘rude’; Williams 
+“ wide.’ 
+
+Il. i. 323: ‘Dyed’; Folios 1, 2, 3, ‘ Dide’; 
+Folio 4, “dy’d.” Pope suggested ‘ Stain’d’; 
+Vaughan, ‘ Dipp’d.’ 
+
+Il. i, 325. In the Folios ‘the first citizen’ 
+is throughout named ‘Hubert,’ in all prob- 
+ability owing to the fact that the actor of 
+the part of Hubert also took this minor char- 
+acter of the play. 
+
+II. i. 335. ‘run,’ so Folios 2, 3, 4; Folio 1, 
+
+
+conjectured 
+
+
+“rome’; Malone reads, ‘roam’; Nicholson 
+conjectured, ‘ foam.’ : 
+TI. i. 353. ‘ fangs,’ Steevens’ spelling for 
+
+
+“phangs’ of the Folios. 
+
+II. i. 358. ‘equal potents’; Collier reads 
+“equal potent’; Delius, ‘ equal-potents’; Dyce, 
+“ equal-potent.’ 
+
+“fiery kindled,’ so Folios 2, 3, 4; Folio a 
+“fierte kindled’; Pope, ‘ fiery-kindled’; Collier 
+(ed. 2), ‘fire-ykindled’; Lettsom conjectures 
+* fire-enkindled.’ 
+
+II. i. 371. ‘King’d of our fears’; the 
+Folios, ‘Kings of our fear’; the excellent 
+
+-emendation adopted in the text was first pro- 
+posed by Tyrwhitt. 
+
+Liss: 
+
+
+” (passim). 
+II. i. 584. ‘aid’; Collier (ed. 2, Mason’s con- 
+jecture) ‘ aim.’ 
+
+
+is descriptive | 
+of the bride with her hair hanging loose. 
+
+Ill. i. 259. ‘chafed lion’; Theobald’s cor- 
+rection of the Folios, ‘ cased.’ 
+_ Ill, i. 280-4. In the first Folio the reading 
+is:— 
+
+
+“But thou hast sworn against religion; 
+
+By what thou swear’st against the thing thou 
+swear’ st, 
+
+And mak’st an oath the surety for thy truth, 
+
+Against an oath the truth, thou art unsure 
+
+To swear, sweares only not to be foresworn. 
+
+
+In line 281 a plausible emendation is ‘ swar’st? 
+(= ‘ swor’st’) for the second ‘ swear’st.’ “By 
+what’ = ‘in so far as’; lines 281, 282 are 
+evidently parallel in sense; a slight obscurity 
+may perhaps be cleared away by taking the 
+frst ‘truth’ as used with a suggestion of the 
+secondary meaning ‘troth’: lines 283, 284 are 
+considered the crux of the passage, but pos- 
+sibly all difficulty is removed by placing a semi- 
+colon after ‘unsure,’ and rendering ‘ to swear’ 
+with the force of ‘if a man swear.’ 
+
+Ill. ii. 4. ‘ Philip’; Theobald, ‘ Richard ”; the 
+error was probably Shakespeare’s; ‘ Philip’ was 
+“Sir Richard.’ 
+
+III. iii, 26.‘ time,’ Pope’s emendation for 
+“tune’ of the Folios. 
+
+III. iii. 39. ‘Sound on into the drowsy ear 
+of night’; the Folios, ‘ race’; Dyce and Staun- 
+ton, ‘ ear’; Bulloch, ‘ face,” &c. Theobald sug- 
+gested ‘sound one unto,’ as plausible an 
+emendation as so, many of his excellent read- 
+ings. 
+
+III. iii. 52. “brooded watchful day’; Pope’s 
+“ broad-ey’d,’ Mitford’s ‘ broad and,’ and vari- 
+ous emendations have been proposed, but 
+“brooded’ = ‘having a brood to watch over,’ 
+hence ‘brooding’ — ‘sitting on brood.’ 
+
+III. iii. 72. ‘attend on you,’ so Folios Ty 25 
+Folios 3, 4, ‘to attend’; Pope reads ‘¢t’ at- 
+tend. 
+
+Ill. iv. 2: ‘ convicted,’ i.e. * overcome’; there : 
+is perhaps a reference here to the Spanish ~*— 
+\rmada. Pope proposed ‘ collected ’; other 
+suggestions have been ‘ convented,’ ‘ connected,’ 
+‘combined,’ ‘ convered, &c. 
+
+III. iv. 6. ‘Is not Angiers lost?’ &c. Ar- 
+‘hur was made prisoner at the capture cf 
+Mirabeau in 1202, Angiers was captured by 
+Tohn four years later. 
+
+III. iv. 44. ‘not holy,’ 
+2, 3, (holy ?: 
+conjecture) 
+
+
+fiends’ of the Folios. 
+III. iv. 98. ‘Then have I reason to be fond 
+of grief,’ Rowe’s reading; Folios 15) 25 opment 
+
+
+“Then, have I reason to be 
+Folio 4, ‘ Then . . grief?’ 
+
+Ill. iv. r10. ‘world’s taste,’ Pope’s emenda- 
+tion of. the Folios, ‘words taste ’; Jackson’s 
+conjecture, ‘word, state.’ 
+
+
+fond of grief?’; 
+
+
+i ee 
+
+
+in: 
+
+
+= ee et 
+
+
+o>. 
+
+
+English lords.’ 
+
+
+We x ‘IL: iv. 182. ‘strong actions,’ so Folios 2, 3, 
+
+
+4. Folio x misprints ‘ strange actions.’ 
+
+
+IV. i. 92. ‘mote,’ Steevens’ emendation for 
+
+
+“moth’ of the Folios, a frequent spelling of 
+
+
+the word. 
+
+
+IV. ii. 42. ‘ then lesser is my fear,’ so Folio 
+1; ‘then’ a common spelling of ‘than’ in 
+Elizabethan English; Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘then less 
+is my fear’; Pope, ‘the lesser is my fear.’ 
+
+IV. ii. so. ‘myself and them’ = (perhaps) 
+“myself and themselves’; hence the ungram- 
+matical ‘ them. 
+
+IV. ii. 65. ‘than whereupon our weal,’ &c. 
+The meaning of the passage seems to be, ‘ we 
+ask for his liberty only in so far as the com- 
+monwealth (i.e. ‘our weal, on you depend- 
+ing’) counts it your welfare,’ &c. 
+
+IV. ii. 117. ‘care’; it is impossible to deter- 
+mine whether the first Folio reads ‘eave’ or 
+‘care’; the other Folios ‘cave.’ There is con- 
+siderable doubt as to whether the first letter is 
+Roman or Italic, and taking all the evidence 
+into account it seems possible that ‘ care’ was 
+corrected to ‘ eare’ in some copies of the first 
+Folio. 
+
+IV. ii. 120. ‘ first of April’; according to his- 
+bite Eleanor died in 1204 in the month of 
+uly. 
+
+IV. ii. 123. ‘Three days before’; Constance 
+died in reality three years, and not three days 
+before, in August, 1201. 
+
+V. ii. 147. ‘a prophet, t.e. Peter of Pom- 
+fret (Pontefract). 
+
+TV. iii. rr. ‘him’ = the Dauphin. 
+
+V. i. 8. ‘counties’; it is dfficult to deter- 
+mine whether ‘counties’ — (i) ‘counts,’ i.e. 
+*the nobility,’ or (ii.) ‘the divisions of the 
+country’: probably the former. 
+
+V. ii. 1. ‘this,’ i.e. ‘this compact with the 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+1349 
+
+
+V. ii. 27. ‘step after a stranger, march,’ 
+so the Folios; Theobald ‘ stranger march,’ but 
+the original reading seems preferable. 
+
+. li. 36. ‘ grapple,’ Pope’s emendation of 
+‘cripple’ of the Folios; Steevens conjectured 
+‘ griptle,’ Gould ‘ souple.’ 
+
+V. ii. 59. ‘ Full of warm blood,’ Heath’s con: 
+jecture of ‘ Full warm of blood’ of the Folios. 
+
+ii, 64. ‘an angel spake’; ‘angel’ used 
+probably equivocally with a play upon ‘angel’ 
+the gold coin, the quibble being suggested by 
+the previous ‘ purse,’ ‘ nobles.’ 
+
+V. ii. 133. ‘ unhair’d,’ Theobald’s correction 
+of Folios; Folio 1, ‘wnheard’; Folios 2, 3, 4, 
+‘unheard’; Keightly proposed ‘ un-beard.’ 
+
+V. iii, 8. ‘ Swinstead,’ so in ‘The Trouble- 
+some Reign’; ' Swinstead’ = Swineshead, near 
+Spalding, in Lincolnshire. 
+
+. iv. 15. ‘He,’ 1.e. the Dauphin; perhaps 
+‘lords’ in the previous line is an error for 
+
+
+V. iv. 24-5. ‘even as a form of wax Resolv- 
+eth from his figure ’gainst the fire,’ alluding 
+to the images of wax used in witchcraft; ag the 
+figure melted before the fire, so the person it 
+represented dwindled away. 
+
+V. iv. 60. ‘ Right in thine eye’; it has been 
+suggested that ‘vight’ is a misprint for ‘ riot’; 
+‘ pight, ‘fight,’ ‘fright &c., have been pro- 
+posed: there is no reason, at all for emending 
+the word. 
+
+V. vi. 12. ‘ eyeless night,’ Theobald’s emenda- 
+tion of the Folios, ‘ endles.’ : 
+
+V. vii. 16. ‘Leaves them invisible, and his 
+siege’; so Folio 1; the other Folios, ‘and her 
+siege’; Pope, ‘ leaves them; invisible his siege’ ; 
+Hanmer, ‘leaves them imsensible; his siege’; 
+Steevens, ‘invisible’; &c. 
+
+V. vii. 21. ‘ cygnet’; Rowe’s correction of 
+* Symet’ of the Folios. 
+
+
+The Tragedy of King Richard I1.—Notes 
+
+
+1. i. 1. ‘Old John of Gaunt’; Gaunt was 
+only fifty-eight years old at the time when the 
+play opens, but Shakespeare refers to him 
+throughout as an old man. 
+
+I. i, 20. ‘Many years of happy days befal’; 
+Pope suggested ‘May many’; Tate, ‘Now 
+many’; Collier, ‘Full many’; others suggest 
+that ‘years’ is to be read as a dissyllable. 
+No change is necessary; the emphatic mono- 
+syllabic foot at the beginning of the speech is 
+ene”. remarkable, and may easily be paral- 
+eled. 
+
+I. i. 65. ‘inhabitable’; Theobald suggested 
+* unhabitable.’ 
+
+I. i. 77. ‘What I have spoke. or thou canst 
+worse deuise ; this is the reading of Quarto 1; 
+Quarto 2. ‘spoke, or thou canst deutse’; 
+Quartos 3, 4, ‘spoke. or what thou canst 
+deuise’; Folios and Quarto 5, ‘spoken, or 
+thou canst deuise’; Hanmer conjectured, 
+© spoke, as what thou hast devised.’ 
+
+I. i. 95. ‘ for these eighteen years’; since the 
+insurrection of Wat Tyler, in 138r. 
+
+J. i. 189. ‘ beggar-fear’ so Quartos 1, 5. and 
+Folios 1, 2; Quartos 2. 3, 4. “ beggar-face’; 
+Folios 3, 4. ‘ beggar’d fear’; Hanmer proposed 
+“haggard fear’; others have suggested, © bug- 
+
+
+bear fear’; ‘ bug-bear-face’; ‘ stagger’d fear.’ 
+
+I. i. 199. ‘Saint Lambert’s day’; thus 
+Quartos 1, 5, and Folios; Quartos 2, 3, 4, “St 
+Lambards Day.’ This was September 17th. 
+
+I. i. 204. ‘ Lord marshal’; Norfolk was him- 
+self Earl Marshal of England; this was there- 
+fore a deputy appointed for the occasion: Holin- 
+shed tells us that he was Thomas Holland, Duke 
+of Surrey. Capell suggested ‘Marshal’ for 
+“Lord Marshal’ in order to normalise the 
+scansion of the line: otherwise ‘ marshal’ must 
+be taken as equivalent to a monosyllable, or 
+a monosyllable with an unessential extra syl. 
+lahle before a pause. , 
+
+I, ii. 1. ‘ Woodstock’s blood’; this Quartos 
+1, 2, 3, 4; Folios 1, 2, 3, reads ‘ Glousters’; 
+Folio 4 and Quarto 5, ‘Glosters.’ The Duke 
+of Gloucester was also called Thomas of 
+Woodstock. 
+
+I. ii. 47. ‘sit’; so the Folios and Quarto 5; 
+Quartos 1, 2. 3. 4, ‘ set.’ 
+
+I. ii. 66. ‘ Plashy’; the seat of Thomas of 
+Woodstock, as Lord High Constable, near 
+Dunmow, in Essex. 
+
+I. ii. 70. ‘ hear there’; so Quarto 2; Quarto 
+rt reads ‘ cheere there.’ 
+
+20. ‘and my succeeding issue’; so 
+
+
+1350 
+
+
+Fal p 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+cee aS a 
+
+
+Guartos 1, 2, 3, 4; the Folios and Quarto i 
+“and his succeeding issue.’ 
+
+I. iii. 43. ‘ daring-hardy’; Theobald’s emen- 
+dation of the Quartos and Folios; Quarto 1, 
+‘daring, hardy’; Quartos 2, 3, 4, ‘ daring 
+hardie’; Folios 1, 2, ‘daring hardie’; Quarto 
+5 and Folios 3, 4, ‘daring hardy.’ 
+
+I. iii. 58. ‘thee dead’; Quartos 1, 2, ‘the 
+dead.’ 
+
+I. iii. 67, 68. ‘at English feasts, ( The 
+daintiest last’; referring to the English custom 
+of having sweets as the last course at a dinner 
+
+I. iii. 84. ‘innocency’; the Quartos and 
+Folios, ‘innocence,’ changed by Capell to ‘ in- 
+nocency.’ 
+
+I. iii. 128. ‘Of civil wounds plough’d up 
+with neighbours’ sword’; Quarto 1, ‘cruell’ 
+for ‘civil’; Quartos 1, 2, 3, 4, ‘sword’; the 
+Folios and Quarto 5, ‘ swords’; Theobald con- 
+jectured ‘neighbour’ for ‘ neighbours’.’ 
+
+I. iii. 136. ‘wrathful iron arms’; Quarto 1 
+reads ‘ harsh resounding arms,’ 
+
+I. ili, 138. ‘kindred’s’; Quartos 1, 2, 
+‘ kinreds.’ 
+
+I. iii. 140. ‘upon pain of life’; the reading 
+of Quartos 1, 2, 3, 4; the Folios and Quarto 
+5, ‘upon pain of death.’ 
+
+I. iii. 193. ‘so far’; the Quartos and Folio 
+1, ‘so fare’; Folios 2, 3, and Quarto Bynaso 
+farre’; Folio 4, ‘so far. 
+
+I. iii. 276. ‘ wise man’; written as one word 
+in the first two Quartos, and evidently pro- 
+nounced with the accent on the first syllable. 
+
+I. iv. 23. ‘ Bagot here and Green’ omitted in 
+Quartos 1, 2, 3, 4; inserted in the Folios and 
+Quarto 5. 
+
+I. iv. 58. ‘Ely House’; the Bishop of Ely’s 
+palace in Holborn. ‘ Ely-Place’ marks its site, 
+
+Il. i. 18. ‘of whose taste the wise are fond fa 
+Quarto 1 reads ‘of whose taste the wise are 
+fond’; Quarto 2, ‘ of whose state the wise are 
+found’; Quartos 3, 4, 5 and Folios read SOF 
+his state: then there are found’; Folio 1, 
+“ sound’; the reading in the text was first sug- 
+gested by Collier. 
+
+Il. i. 40-55. ‘ This royal throne... . Jewry’; 
+with the exception of line 50, this passage is 
+quoted more or less correctly in England’s 
+Parnassus (1600), but is attributed by mis- 
+‘ake to Michael Drayton. 
+
+II. i, 73-93. These famous lines suggest com- 
+parison with the word play of Ajax upon his 
+name in Sophocles’ drama. 
+
+II. i. 102. ‘ incaged’; the reading of Folios 
+I, 2; Quartos 1, 2, 3, 4 read ‘ inraged’; Quarto 
+5 reads ‘ encaged’; Folios 3, 4 read “ingaged.” 
+
+II. i. 113. ‘thou now, not king’; Theobald’s 
+emendation of the Quartos and Folios; Quartos 
+I, 2, 3 read ‘thou now not, not king’; Quarto 
+4 reads ‘thou now not. nor king’; the Folios 
+and Quarto 5 read ‘thou and not king.’ 
+
+i. 115. ‘And thou— King Richard. A 
+lunatic,’ &c.~ Quarto 1, ‘And thou, King. 4 
+lunatike’; Quarto 2, ‘And thou. King. 4 
+lunatick’; Quartos 3, 4 read ‘ And thou. King 
+4h lunaticke’; the Folios and Quarto 5, 
+
+
+read 
+
+
+“And— Rich. And thou, a lunaticke’: War- 
+ourton, ‘And thou— XK. Rich. And thou, a 
+‘unatick.’ 
+
+
+Il. i. 245. ‘’Gainst us, our lives ’; Vaughan 
+sonjectured ‘ Against ourselves ’; Collier MS., 
+“’Gainst us, our wives.’ 
+
+II. i. 247. Pope proposed the omission of 
+“quite’ in order to improve the scansion of 
+the line. It has been suggested that Shake- 
+
+
+speare may have written ‘The gentlemen and 
+nobles hath he fined.’ Sidney Walker re- 
+arranged the passage thus:— 
+
+
+“The commons hath he pill’d 
+With grievous taxes, and quite lost their hearts; 
+The nobles hath he fined for ancient quarrels,’ 
+
+
+The text as it stands is better than the readings 
+which result from these emendations, 
+
+Il. i. 252. “Wars have,’ &c.; Rowe’s emenda- 
+tion; Quartos 1, 2, and the Folios read ‘ Wars 
+hath,’ &c.; Capell conjectured ‘ War hath,’ &c. 
+
+II. i. 253. “The allusion here is to the 
+treaty which Richard made with Charles VI. of 
+France in the year 1393.” 
+
+Il. i. 254. The Folios omit ‘noble’ but there 
+are many similar quasi-Alexandrines in the 
+
+
+play. 
+II. i. 277. ‘Then thus: I have from le Port 
+Blanc.’ The first Quarto reads:— 
+
+
+“Then thus, I have from le Port Blan 
+A Bay in Brittaine,’ &c. 
+
+
+Dr. Wright notes that as the Quartos have ‘le 
+Port Blan,’ and Holinshed ‘le Porte Blanc,’ he 
+adopts the reading ‘le Port Blanc,’ which is the 
+name of a small port in the department of 
+Cotes du Nord, near Tréguier. 
+
+II. i. 279. Malone, having Holinshed before 
+him, assumed that a line has been lost, and 
+inieonsce the following words after ‘ Cob- 
+hain 7 :— 
+
+
+“The son of Richard Earl of Arundel.’ 
+
+
+Il. i, 283. ‘Sir John Ramston’; according 
+to Holinshed ‘ Sir Thomas,’ not ‘Sir John.’ 
+
+II. i. 284. ‘ Quoint’; Quartos 1, 2, 3, 4 read 
+* Coines,’ 
+
+Il. ii. 18. ‘ perspectives’; “at the right Hon- 
+ourable the Lord Gerards at Gerards Bromley. 
+there are the pictures of Henry the Great of 
+France and his Queen, both upon the same 
+indented board, which if beheld directly, you 
+only perceive a confused piece of work; but, 
+if obliquely, of one side you see the King’s, 
+and on the other the Queen’s picture a Plots 
+Natural History of Staffordshire (quoted, by 
+Staunton). 
+
+II. ii. 31. ‘though’; Quarto 1 reads 
+‘thought’; ‘on thinking on’; Folios 3, 4 read 
+‘one thinking, on’; Collier MS., ‘unthinking 
+on’; “no thought’; Lettsom conjectured ‘ ne 
+thing.’ 
+
+Il. ii. 57. ‘all the rest’; the reading of 
+Quarto 1; Quartos 2, 3, 4, 5 and Folios 1, 2 
+read ‘the rest of the’; Folios 3, 4, ‘the rest 
+of that’; Pope, ‘all of that. ‘ revolt ’; Quartos 
+3, 4 read ‘revolting’; ‘ faction ’; Daniel con- 
+jectured ‘ factions.’ 
+
+II. ii. 58. ‘ The Earl of Worcester’; Thomas 
+Percy, Steward of the King’s household: he 
+was brother to_ the Earl of Northumberland, 
+
+Il. iii. 9. ‘Cotswold’; Quartos bee Ra 7 
+read ‘ Cotshall’; the Folios and Quarto 5 read 
+© Coltshold.’ 
+
+If. tii. roo. The Clarendon Press editors sug- 
+gest that this passage bears considerable re- 
+semblance to the speech of Nestor Cliad, vii. 
+157). (Hall’s translation of Homer was pub- 
+lished in 1581.) 
+
+Il. iii, 164. ‘ Bristol’; the reading of Quarto 
+5: all the rest Quartos and Folios ‘ Bristow.’ 
+
+
+sO a Sh hm eT. 
+
+
+; 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+III. ii. i. ‘ Barkloughly’; the name was de- 
+tived from Holinshed, where it was undoubt- 
+edly a copyist’s or printer’s error for * Hert- 
+lowli,’ i.e. Harlech. 
+
+Hil. ii, 14. Alluding to the old idea that 
+
+
+spiders were venomous. , 
+Ill. ii. 40. ‘ beldly’; Collier's conjecture; 
+Quarto 1, ‘ bouldly’; Quarto 2, ‘ bloudy’; 
+
+
+Quartos 3, 4, 5, and Folios, ‘ bloody,’ 
+
+IIL. ii. 156. ‘sad stories of the death of 
+kings’; Shakespeare was probably thinking of 
+the Mirror for Magistrates with its ‘ tragedies ’ 
+of English princes, Richard among the earliest 
+of them. 
+
+Ill. ii. 160-163. Douce plausibly suggested 
+that this image was suggested to Shakespeare 
+by the seventh print in the Imagines Mortis 
+where “a King is represented sitting on his 
+throne, sword in hand, with courtiers round 
+him, while from his crown rises @ grinning 
+skeleton,” 
+
+Ill. iii. 10s. ‘the honourable tomb’; the 
+tomb of Edward III. in Westminster Abbey. 
+
+I. iv. x1. ‘joy’; Rowe’s emendation; 
+Quarto and Folios, * griefe.’ 
+
+Tl, iv. 22. ‘And I could sing’; 
+emendation; ‘weep, has been generally 
+adopted, but the Cambridge editors adhere to 
+the reading of the Quartos and Folios. They 
+explain that “the Queen speaks with an empha- 
+Bistone sing? > * And I could even sing for joy 
+if thy troubles were only such as weeping could 
+alleviate, and then I could not ask you weep 
+for me.’” , 
+
+IV. i. 55. ‘sun to sun’; Capell’s emendation 
+of ‘sinne to sinne’ of the Quartos. 
+
+
+Pope’s 
+
+
+1351 
+
+
+IV. i. 148. ‘ Prevent it, resist it’; Pope pro- 
+posed ‘ prevent, resist it ’; others scan ‘ resist’ 
+by apocope (sist); the natural movement of 
+the line suggests:— 
+
+
+“prevént it, | resist it, | —lét | it nét | be so.’ 
+
+
+IV. i. 154-318. This part of the 
+scene’ appeared for the first time in the Quarto 
+of 1608. In the earlier editions line 319 reads: 
+“Let it be so, and lo on Wednesday next We 
+solemnly proclaim.’ 
+
+V. i. 215. ‘ that Swear’; i.e. ‘of those that 
+swear’; Folios and Quarto 5, ‘are made,’ 
+
+IV. i. 270. “torment’st’; Rowe’s emendation 
+of Quarto 3, 4, 5 and Folios, ‘ torments.’ 
+
+IV. i. 281-288. A reminiscence of Marlowe’s 
+famous lines in Faustus: ‘ Was this the face 
+that launch’d a thousand ships,’ &e. 
+
+V. i. 88. ‘ Better far off than near, be ne’er 
+the near,’ i.e. ‘better to be far apart than to 
+be near, and yet never the nearer.’ 
+
+V. iii. 43. ‘ secure, foolhardy king’; Quartos, 
+“secure foole hardy king’; Folio 4, ‘ secure 
+foul-hardy king 
+
+V. iii. 88. ‘ Love loving not itself,’ &e.; te. 
+“love which is indifferent to the claims of kin- 
+dred can be loving to none.’ 
+
+V. iii, 144. The reading of Quarto 5; the 
+other editions omit ‘too.’ 
+
+V. v. 9. ‘this little world ’; alluding to the 
+conception of man as a “imicrocosm,’ #.e. ‘an 
+abstract or model of the world’ 
+
+V. v. 31. ‘person’; so Quarto 1; the rest 
+* prison’ 
+
+
+* deposition 
+
+
+The First Part of King Henry IV.—Notes 
+
+
+Ll. i. 5. ‘No more the thirsty entrance of this 
+soil,’ &c.; Folio 4, ‘entrails’ for “ entrance ’ ; 
+Steevens, ‘entrants’; Mason ‘ Erinnys’; 
+Malone compares Genesis iv. 11: “ And now 
+art thou cursed from the earth, which hath 
+opened her mouth to receive thy brotker’s 
+blood from thy hand”; ‘ entrance ’ probably = 
+“the mouth of the earth or soil.’ 
+
+. it 28. ‘now is twelve months old,’ so 
+Quartos 1, 2; Folios, ‘is a twelvemonth old a 
+Quartos 7, 8. ‘is but twelve months old? 
+1. i. 71. ‘Mordake the Earl of Fife’; this 
+was ““Murdach Stewart, not the son of Doug- 
+Tas, but the eldest son of Robert, Duke of 
+Albany, Regent of Scotland, third sor of King 
+Robert II.” (‘the’ first supplied by Pope). 
+
+I. i. 16. “that wandering knight so fair,’ an 
+allusion to ‘El Donzel del Febo.’ the ‘ Knicht 
+of the Sun,’ whose adventures were translated 
+from the Spanish:—“‘ The First Part of the 
+Mirrour of Princely deeds and Knighthood: 
+Wherein is shewed the Worthiness of the 
+Knight of the Sunne and his brother Rosicleer. 
+
+‘ Now newly translated out of Spanish 
+
+
+into our vulgar English tongue, by M(argaret) | 
+
+
+T(iler) ”; eight parts of the book were pub- 
+ished between 1579 and i601. Shirley alludes 
+to the Knight in the Gamester (iii. 1) :— 
+
+
+“ He has knocked the flower of chivalry, 
+Donzel del Phebo of the time.” 
+
+
+the very 
+
+
+I. ii. 47. ‘Of Hybla, reading of Quartos 
+omitted in Folios; ‘imy old lad of the castle’; 
+probably a pun on the original name of Fal- 
+staff (cp. Preface). . 
+
+I. ii. 90, roo. “For wisdom cries out in the 
+| Street, and no man regards it *; an adaptation 
+of Proverbs i. 20, omitted in Folios. 
+
+Depa, 1285" Albert, Tawnakea hazard of my 
+head’; the reading of Quartos; Folios, ‘ AL 
+though it be with hazard of my head,’ 
+
+I. iii. 201, &c. This rant of Hotspur has been 
+compared with the similar sentiment put into 
+the mouth of Eteocles by Euripides—* I will 
+not disguise my thoughts; I would scale 
+heaven; I would descend to the very entrails 
+
+| of the earth, if so be that by that price I could 
+| obtain a kingdom.” 
+
+In The Knight of the Burning Pestle (In- 
+| duction), Beaumont and Fletcher put these 
+lines into the mouth of Ralph, the apprentice, 
+“apparently with the design of raising a good- 
+| natured laugh at Shakespeare’s expense ” (John- 
+| son). 
+
+| __I. iii. 253: “when his. age,’ cp. Richard 
+pli. Act IL. iii, 48, 9, “as my fortune ripens 
+| with thy love, It shall be still thy true love’s 
+| recompense.’ 
+
+II. i. 85. ‘ great oneyers,’ probably a jocose 
+term for ‘great ones,’ with perhaps a pun 
+“owners”; various emendations have been 
+
+
+1352 NOTES 
+
+
+Vaughan adds the following:—‘ It is singula- 
+that Shakespeare should have combined two 
+annoyances commemorated together by an old 
+Welsh proverb, which I would translate: 
+
+
+proposed, e.g. ‘ oneraires,’ ‘ moneyers,’ ‘ seig- 
+
+nors,’ ‘ owners,’ “mynheers,’ ‘ overseers,’ &c. 
+Il. iii. 90. ‘I'll break thy little nuger, an 
+
+ancient toker of amorous dalliance, as Steevens 
+
+
+‘ S- € - - e , y 
+met ee Pe ae bee * the original Three things will drive a man from home: , 
+tavern in Eastcheap was burnt down in the fi een er sre ; 
+great fire, but was subsequently rebuilt, and r + gOWSE. EROb TEES; es ; 
+stood until 1757, when it was demolished. A wife who scolds whene’er she speaks. 2 
+
+
+Goldsmith visited the tavern, and wrote of it 
+enthusiastically ‘n his Essays. , 
+
+II. iv. 134. ‘ pittful-hearted Titan,’ so the 
+early eds.: Theobald suggested ‘ butter’ for 
+‘ Titan, and the emendation has been generally 
+adopted. : ; 
+
+Il. iv. 139. ‘here’s lime in this sack,’ cp. Sir 
+Richard Hawkins’ statement in his Voyages, 
+that the Spanisk sacks ‘‘ for conservation are 
+mingled with the lime in the making,”’ and 
+hence give rise to “the stone, the dropsy, 
+and infinite other distempers, not heard of 
+before this. wine came into frequent use.’’ 
+
+II. iv. 151. ‘dagger of lath? like that car- 
+ried by the Vice in the old Morality plays. 
+
+Il. iv. 147. ‘I would I were a weaver’; 
+weavers were good singers, especially of psalms, 
+most of them being Calvinists who had fled 
+from Flanders to escape persecution. 
+
+Il. iv. 270. ‘you elf-skin’; so the Quartos 
+and Folios; Hanmer, ‘ eel-skin’ (cp. 2 Henry 
+IV. X11. ii, 340-351); Johnson, ‘ elfkin.? 
+
+Il. iv. 374. ‘O, Glendower,’ (?) perhaps we 
+should read, ‘ Owen Glendower.’ ; 
+
+TI. iv. 425. ‘ King Cambyses’ vein’; an allu- 
+sion to a ranting play called ‘A Lamentable 
+Tragedie, mired full of fleasant mirth, con- 
+taining the Life of Cambises, King of Persia’ 
+(1570). wk. A 
+
+If. iv. 440. ‘The camomile,’ &c., cp. Lyly’s 
+Euphues (quoted by Farmer): “ Though the 
+camomile the more it is trodden and pressed 
+down, the more it spreadeth; yet the violet 
+the oftener it ts handled and touched, the 
+sooner it withereth and decayeth.”’ 
+
+II. iv. 499. ‘that reverend vice,’ &c., allud- 
+ing to the Vice of the Morality plays; ‘In- 
+iquity’ and ‘ Vanity’ were among the names 
+given to the character, according to the par- 
+ticular ‘Vice’ held up to ridicule. 
+
+II. iv. 541. ‘mad,’ Folios 3, 4; the rest 
+“ made.’ 
+
+Il. iv. 577. ‘Peto’; probably ‘ Poins,’ ac- 
+cording to Johnson; perhaps, the prefix in the 
+MS. was simply ‘P.’ The Cambridge editors, 
+however, remark that the formal address is 
+appropriate to Peto rather than to Poins. 
+
+Tif. i. 150, &c. ‘telling me of the mold- 
+warp,’ cb.-Legend of Glendour (stanza 23) in 
+The Mirror for Magistrates, 1559:— 
+
+
+III. ii, 32. ‘Thy place in council thou hast 
+rudely lost,’ i.e. ‘by thy rude or violent con- a 
+duct’; there is an anachronism here, as the *% 
+Prince was removed from the council for strik- 
+ing the Chief-Justice in 1403, some years after 
+the battle of Shrewsbury. Se 
+
+III. ii, 62. ‘ doth’; Quartos and Folios, ‘do,’ 
+which may be explained as due to the plural 
+implied in ‘ every man’; Rowe, ‘ does’; Collier 
+MS., ‘ doth.’ fy 
+
+III. ii. 62. ‘ carded his state’; ‘to card’ is — 
+often used in Elizabethan English in the sense 
+of ‘to mix, or debase by mixing’ (e.g. “ You 
+card your beer if you see vour guests begin 
+to get drunk, half small, half strong.’ Green’s 
+Quip for an Upstart Courtier); Warburton 
+suggested ‘carded’ ‘’scarded” i.e ‘ dis- 
+carded’; but the former explanation is un- 
+doubtedly correct. ‘To stir and mix with 
+cards, to stir together, to mix,’ the meaning is 
+brought out by 1607 quotation from Topsell, 
+Four-foot Beasts, “As for his diet, let it be 
+warm mashes, sodden wheat and hay, thor 
+oughly carded with wool-cards.”? f 
+
+
+a mistake for Lord March of Scotland, George _ 
+Dunbar, who took sides with the English. by 
+III. iii. 40. “By this fire, that’s God’s angel’; 
+the latter words omitted in Folios and Quartos _ 
+after Quarto 2; evidently a familiar expression. — 
+Vaughan think$ the allusion is to Hebrews i 
+7;_but it is more probably to Exodus iii. 2. aft 
+III. iii. 144. ‘neither fish nor flesh, allud- 
+ing to the old proverb, “Neither fish nor 
+flesh, nor good red herring.” (4 
+III. iii, 171. ‘I pray God my girdle break a 
+an allusion to the old adage, “ungirt, un- 
+blessed’; the breaking of the girdle was for- 
+merly a serious matter. as the purse generally 
+hung on to the girdle, and would, in the — 
+event of the girdle breaking, probably be lost-«. 
+IV. i. 31. “that inward sickness—; Rowe — 
+
+
+of the early editions; the sentence is suddenly 
+
+broken off. va 
+IV. i. 85. ‘term of fear’; the Folios and — 
+
+later Quartos (7 and 8) ‘dream’ for ‘term’ 
+LVe 35 08. : 
+
+
+“All plumed like estridges that with the wind — 
+Batted like eagles having lately bathed’: # 
+
+
+“And for it to sit us hereon more agog, 
+
+A prophet came (a vengeance take them all!) 
+Afirming Henry to be Gogmagog, 
+
+Whom Merlin doth a mouldwarp ever call, 
+Accurst of God. that must be brought in thrall 
+By a wolf, a dragon, and a lion strong, 
+
+
+Which should divide his kingdom them among.’ | This. the reading of the early editions, nas 
+
+
+been variously emended; Steevens and Malone — 
+suggested that a line has dronned out after — 
+wind, and the former (too boldly) proposed as 
+the missing line:— 
+
+
+III. i. 160, 161. Compare Chaucer, Canter- 
+bury Tales, 5860:— 
+
+
+“Thou saist, that dropping houses, and eek| “Run on, in gallant trim they now advance”: 
+smoke 
+And chiding wives maken men to flee 
+
+
+on the other hand, Rowe’s proposal to read 
+Out of her owen hous’ 
+
+
+“wing the wind’ for ‘with’ has had many 
+
+
+’ 
+
+
+_ supporters, though it is said that ‘wing the 
+wind’ applies to ostriches less than to any 
+other birds; Dyce, however, quotes a passage 
+_ from Claudian (In Eutropium II., 310-313) to 
+- justify it:— 
+
+
+Lal 
+
+
+ “ Vasta velut Libye venantum vocibus ales 
+Cum premitur, calidas cursu transmittet arenas, 
+_  Inque modum veli sinuatis fHamina pennis 
+Pulverulenta volat’’; 
+
+
+the Cambridge editors maintain that this means 
+that the bird spreads its wings like a sail belly- 
+ing with the wind—a different thing from 
+ft _ ‘winging the wind. ‘“ But the Cambridge edi- 
+tors,”’ Dyce replies, “take no notice of the im- 
+By portant word volat, by which Claudian means, 
+of course, that the ostrich, when once her 
+wings are filled with the wind, flies along the 
+ground (though she does not mount into the 
+- air)’”’; he adds the following apt quotation from 
+Rogers :-- 
+
+
+“Such to their, grateful ear the gush of springs 
+Who course the ostrich, as away she wings.” 
+CotumBus, Canto vIti. 
+
+
+the wings, as the hawk did when unhooded and 
+ready to fly.” 
+
+“having lately bathed’; “‘ writers on fal- 
+_ conry,” says Steevéens, ‘‘ often mention the 
+bathing of hawks and eagles as highly neces- 
+sary for their health and spirits. All birds, 
+after bathing, spread out their wings to catch 
+the wind, and flutter violently with them in 
+order to dry themselves. This, in the fal- 
+-coner’s language, is called bating.”’ 
+_ IV. ii, 31. “younger sons to younger broth- 
+ers,’ t.e. “men of desperate fortune and wild 
+adventure’; the phrase, as Johnson pointed 
+out, occurs in Ralcigh’s Discourse on War. 
+VV. i. Stage direction. The Quartos and 
+Folios make the Earl of Westmoreland one 
+of the characters; but, as Malone pointed 
+_ aut, he was in the rebel camp as a pledge 
+_ for Worcester’s safe conduct. 
+WV. i. 13. Sold limbs’; Henry was, in reality, 
+_ only thirty years old at this time. 
+
+
+-__ Inpuction. ‘ Enter Rumour, painted full of 
+tongues,’ so Quarto; Folios, ‘ Enter Rumour,’ 
+_ In ancient pageants Rumour was often repre- 
+sented as apparelled in a robe ‘ full of toongs’; 
+_ Stephen Hawes, in his Pastimes of Pleasure, 
+_ describes Rumour as 
+
+
+© 4 goodly lady, environed about 
+With. tongues of fire.” 
+
+
+_ Similarly Chaucer, House of Fame, 298-300. 
+
+_ Probably the idea was ultimately derived from 
+
+Virgil, Zineid, IV. 173-188. 
+
+- Induct. 6. ‘tongues,’ so Quarto; 
+
+“tongue.” 
+
+- Induct. 8. ‘men,’ so Quarto; Folios, ‘ them.’ 
+I. i. 62. ‘whereon,’ so Quarto; Folios, 
+
+when’ 
+
+
+Folios, 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+baited — baiting; to bait or bate = “to flap | 
+
+
+1353 
+
+
+V. ii. 8. ‘suspicion’; Rowe’s emendation 
+for ‘ supposition’ of the early editions. John- 
+son points out that the same image of ‘ sus- 
+picion’ is exhibited in a Latin tragedy, called 
+Roxana, written about the same time by Dr. 
+William Alabaster. 
+
+V. ii. 18. ‘ adopted name of privilege,’ i.e. 
+the name of Hotspur will suggest that his 
+temperament must be his excuse. 
+
+V. ii. 33. ‘Douglas’ must here be read as a 
+trisyllable. 
+
+V. ii, 60. “By still dispraising praise valued 
+with you’; omitted by Pope and others as 
+‘foolish,’ but defended by Johnson:—‘ to 
+vilify praise, compared or valued with merit, 
+superior to praise, is no harsh expression.” 
+
+ii. 72. ‘so wild a libertine’; Capell’s 
+emendation for the reading of the Folios, ‘ af 
+hbertie,’ and Quartos 1-4, ‘ a libertie’; Theobald 
+punctuated the line thus: ‘of any prince, so 
+wild, at liberty’; others proposed ‘wild 0’ 
+liberty,’ which Collier erroneously declared to 
+be the reading of the three oldest Quartos. 
+
+V. iii. 46, 47. ‘Turk Gregory never did such 
+deeds tn arms’; Warburton observes:—“ Fox, 
+in his History, hath made Gregory (i.e. Pope 
+Gregory VII., called Hildebrand) so odious 
+that I don’t doubt but the good Protestants 
+of that time weré well pleased to hear him 
+thus characterized, as uniting the attributes 
+of their two great enemies, the Turk and Pope, 
+in one,” 
+
+V. iv. 81. ‘ But thought’s the slave of life, 
+&c.; Dyce and others prefer the reading of 
+Quarto 1:— 
+
+
+“But thoughts the slaves of life, and life time’s 
+fool, 
+
+And time that takes survey of all the world, 
+
+Must have a stop.’ 
+
+
+i.e. “Thoughts, which are the slaves of life, 
+aye, and life itself, which is but the fool of 
+Time, aye, and Time itself, which measures the 
+existence of the whole world, must come to an 
+end” (Vaughan). 
+
+V. iv. 167. ‘ Grow great,’ so Quartos; Folios, 
+“ grow great again.’ 
+
+V. v. 41. ‘sway’; Folios and later Quartos. 
+‘way.’ 
+
+
+Pa The Second Part of King Henry IV.—Notes 
+
+
+I. i, 164. ‘Lean’; Quarto, leaue’; ‘your’; 
+Quarto, ‘ you.’ 
+I. i. 166-179; 189-190; omitted in Quarto. 
+ii, 8. ‘ foolish-compound clay, man’; 
+Quarto and Folios, ‘ foolish compounded clay- 
+man. 
+I, ii. 40. ‘ his tongue be hotter, alluding to 
+the rich man in the Parable, Luke xvi. 24. 
+I. ii. 41. ‘a rascally yea-forsooth knave’; 
+Quarto, ‘ rascall.’ 
+I. ii. 62, 63. ‘here comes the nobleman who 
+committed the Prince,’ &c.; this was Sir Wil- 
+liam Gascoigne, Chief-Justice of the King’s 
+Bench. 
+I. ii. 137. In Quarto the prefix ‘Old’ is 
+given instead of Fal(staf), cp. Preface. 
+ii. 190. ‘I cannot go; I cannot tell’; 
+Johnson was probably right in seeing here 2 
+
+
+1354 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+play on go and tell in the sense of ‘ pass cur- 
+rent’ and ‘count as good money.’ 
+
+I. ii. 237. “Spit white’; cp. Batman uppon 
+Bartholome, ed. 1582 (quoted by Dr. Furni- 
+vall):—‘“ If the spittle be white viscus, the 
+sickness cometh of fleam; if black, of melan- 
+choly; the white spittle not knottie signifieth 
+health.’ Other passages indicate that it was 
+also regarded as a sign of thirst. 
+
+I. ii. 240-247. Omitted in Folios, 
+
+I. iii. 36-55. Omitted in Quarto. 
+
+Ty aii. 365) &es 
+
+
+‘If this present quality of war é 
+Indeed the instant action: a cause on foot,’ &c. 
+
+
+Various attempts have been made to restore the 
+meaning of the lines. Malone’s reading has 
+been generally accepted:— 
+
+
+“ Yes, in this present quality of war: 
+Indeed the instant action—a cause on foot— 
+Lives so in hope as in an early spring.’ 
+
+
+which Grant White paraphrases, ‘“‘ Yes, in this 
+present quality, function, or business.of war, it 
+is harmful to lay down likelihoods, ete. In- 
+deed this very action or affair—a cause on foot 
+—is no more hopeful for fruition than the buds 
+
+
+of an unseasonably early spring.’”’ Pope pro- 
+posed ‘‘Impede the instant act”; Johnson, 
+“in this present. .Indeed of instant ac- 
+tion’; Mason, “if this prescient quality of 
+
+
+war Induc’d the instant action,’ &c. 
+
+I. iii. 71. ‘against the French.’ A French 
+army of 12,000 men landed at Mitford Haven 
+in Wales, for the aid of Glendower, during 
+this rebellion. 
+
+J. ili. 85-108. Omitted in Quarto. 
+
+II. i. 168. ‘so God save me, la!’; Quarto, 
+“so God save me law’; Folios, ‘tn good ear- 
+nest la.’ 
+
+II. ii. 26-30. Omitted in Folios. 
+
+II. ii. 80. ‘virtuous’; Folios, ‘ pernicious’; 
+Capell conjectured ‘ precious.’ 
+
+II. ii. 93. ‘ Althea’; the boy here confounds 
+Althza’s firebrand with Hecuba’s; perhaps the 
+blunder was the poet’s. 
+
+li. 125. ‘borrower's cap’; 
+emendation; 
+zap.’ 
+
+Il. ii, 189. ‘leathern  fserkins,’ 
+worn by vintners and tapsters. 
+
+JI. iti. 12. ‘heart’s dear Harry’; 
+* heart-deere-Harry.’: 
+
+Il. iii, 19. ‘the grey vault of heaven’; cp. 
+the use of ‘grey’ applied to the eyes, where 
+we generally use ‘blue’; ‘grey-eyed morn’ 
+(Romeo and Juliet, II. iii, 1) may perhaps 
+illustrate the same fact. 
+
+II. iv. 36. ‘When Arthur’s first in court’; 
+
+
+Theobald’s 
+Folios and Quartos, ‘ borrowed 
+
+
+‘ 
+commonly 
+
+
+Folios, 
+
+
+from the ballad of Sir Lancelot du Lake, 
+printed in Percy’s Reliques. 
+Il. iv. 53. ‘your brooches, pearly, and 
+
+
+ouches’; a scrap of an old ballad, first marked 
+as a quotation by Capell. 
+
+Il. iv. 58, 59. Omitted in Folios. 
+
+lI, iv. 119. Prstot has been likened to the 
+character of ‘the swaggering ruffian,’ CeEn- 
+tuRIOo, in the famous Spanish play by Rojas, 
+called Celestina, which was translated into Eng 
+lish by James Mabbe; and though entered on 
+the Stationers’ Registers in 1598, the .transla- 
+tion was not issued till 1630. It is more than 
+probable that Mabbe was one of Shakespeare’s 
+triends: at all events, the dramatist may easily 
+
+
+-Quarto reads ‘Then (happy) low lie downe,’ 
+
+
+of Besuchamp. 
+
+
+have read the English Tragicke-Comedye of 
+Celestina in MS. (Mabbe’s fascinating book 
+has recently been reprinted as a volume of Mr. 
+Nutt’s Tudor Translations.) p: 
+
+II. iv. 141. ‘ Since when, I pray you, sir?’ 
+a scoffing form of enquiry. 
+
+II. iv. 146-148. Omitted in Folios. 
+
+II. iv. 173. ‘ Have we not Hiren here?’ prob- 
+ably a quotation from a lost play by George 
+Peele called The Turkish Mahomet and Hyren 
+
+
+the Fair Greek; ‘Hiren,’ a corruption of 
+‘ Trene.’ 
+II. iv. 178. “And hollow pamper'd jades of 
+
+
+Asia’; cp. 2 Tamburlaine, IV. iv:— 
+
+
+“Holla, ye pamper’d jades of Asia! 
+What! can ye draw but twenty miles a day?” 
+
+
+II. iv. 182. ‘Let the welkin roar’; a com- 
+monplace tag in old ballads of the time. 
+
+II. iv. 193. “ Then feed, and be fat, my fair 
+Calipolis’; a burlesque of passages in Peele’s 
+Battle of Alcazar (1594); Muley Mahomet 
+enters to his wife with lion’s flesh on_ his 
+sword, and says, ‘Feed then, and faint not, 
+my fair Calipolis.’ ob ey Ve yg 
+
+II. iv. 195. ‘Si fortune me tormente, sperato 
+me contento’; the line probably purposely 
+corrupted, was restored by Hanmer:—‘ Si for- 
+tuna me tormenta, itl sperare me contenta’ 
+(i.e. ‘If fortune torments me, hope contents 
+me’). ‘Pistol is only a copy of Hannibal 
+Gonsaga,”’ remarked Farmer, “ who vaunted 
+on yielding himself a prisoner, as you may 
+read in an old collection of tales, called Wits, 
+Fits, Fancies:— 
+
+
+“Si Fortuna me tormenta, 
+Il speranza me contenta.’ ”’ 
+
+
+Il. iv. 212. ‘Then death rock me asleep,’ 
+&e.; said to be a fragment of an old song 
+written by Anne Boleyn. 
+
+
+iv. 214. ‘Untwine the Sisters Three’; 
+cp. Midsummer-Night's Dream, \. i. 343-348, 
+where there i$ a reference to the ‘shears’ 
+
+
+of Atropos, the Fate that cut the thread of 
+human destiny. 
+
+Il. iv. 288, ‘Fiery Trigon’; alluding to 
+the astrological division of the zodiacal signs 
+into four trigons or triplicities; one consist- 
+ing of the three fiery signs (Aries, Leo, and 
+Sagittarius); the others, respectively, of three 
+airy, three watery, and three earthly signs. 
+When the three superior planets were in the 
+three fiery signs they formed a fiery trigon; — 
+when in Cancer, Scorpio, and Pisces, a wa-. 
+tery one, &c. " 
+
+III. i. The whole scene omitted in Quarto 1 
+(i.e. the earlier copies of the edition). ? 
+
+III. i. 30. ‘Then happy low, lie down!’; 
+
+
+Coleridge suggested ‘Then, happy low-lie- — 
+down’; Warburton, ‘ happy lowly clown.’ The — 
+Folio seems to make the meaning quite clear: 
+— Then happy Lowe, lye downe’; ‘low’ is 
+used substantively, ‘You who are happy in — 
+your humble situations, lay down your heads 
+to rest,’ &c. 
+
+Ill. i. 43. ‘little,’ i.e. ‘a little.’ 
+
+ITI. i. 53-56. Omitted in Folios. 
+
+III. i. 66. ‘cousin Nevil’; the earldom ot 
+Warwick did not come into the family of the 
+Nevilles ‘till the latter part of the reign of — 
+Henry IV.; at this time it was in the family 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+1355 
+
+
+TEI. ii. ‘Justice Shallow’; the character has, 
+with much reason, been identified with Sir 
+Thomas Lucy of Charlecote (cp. The Merry 
+Wives of Windsor) ; perhaps there is a refer- 
+ence to his arms in the words, ‘Jf the young 
+dace be a bait for the old pike, I see no 
+reason in the law of nature but I may snap 
+
+
+at line’ (cp. infra, ll. 356, 357; luce’ = 
+‘pike,’ cp. Note, line 1, Merry Wives of 
+Windsor). 
+
+Ill. ii. 28. “Then was Jack Falstaff, now 
+
+
+Sir John, a boy, and page to Thomas Mow- 
+bray, Duke of Norfolk. This is generally 
+given as one of the points of evidence that 
+Falstaff was originally called Oldcastle, Sir 
+John Oldcastle having actually been in his youth 
+page to the Duke of Norfolk: but it would 
+seem pet the same is true of Sir John Fastolf. 
+Pw 33. ‘I see (Folios ‘ saw’) him break 
+Skogan's heal’=(Quarto Skoggins; Folio 1, 
+“ Scoggans’); two Scogans must be carefully 
+differentiated; though probably both are con- 
+fused by Shakespeare in this passage:—(i.) 
+Henry Scogan, the poet, Chaucer’s Scogan, 
+described by Ben Jonson in The Fortunate 
+Tsles, as , 
+
+
+“a fine gentleman, and master of arts 
+Of ie the Fourth’s times, that made dis- 
+guises 
+For the King’s sons, and writ in ballad royal 
+Daintily well”; 
+
+
+(ii.) John Scogan, “an excellent mimick, and 
+of great pleasantry in conversation, the fa- 
+vourite buffoon of the court of Edward IV.” 
+A book of ‘Scogins Jests’ was published in 
+1565 by Andrew Borde, and probably sug- 
+gested the name to Shakespeare. 
+
+
+III. ii. 142. ‘but much of the father’s sub- 
+stance’; so Quarto; Folios, ‘not’; the Vari- 
+orum of 1821 proposed ‘not much’; the 
+
+
+Quarto reading must be understood as ironical. 
+
+Ill. ii. 300. ‘ Dagonet in Arthur's show’; 
+Sir Dagonet is Arthur’s fool in the story of 
+Tristram de Lyonesse; ‘ Arthur’s show’ was 
+an exhibition of archery by a society of 58 
+members which styled itself “ The Ancient 
+Order, Society, and Unitie laudable of Prince 
+Arthur and his Knightly Armory of the Round 
+Table,” and took the names of the knights 
+of the old romance. Mulcaster referred to it 
+in his Positions, concerning the training up of 
+children (1581). The meeting-place of the 
+society was Mile- end Green. 
+PIT. ti. 337. ‘ invisible’ a Rowe’s emenda- 
+tion; Quarto and Folios, ‘invincible,’ t.e. (?) 
+
+“not to be evinced, not to be made out, in- 
+determinable al (Schmidt). 
+
+
+III. ii. 338, 339. ‘yet . . . mandrake’; 330- 
+343, ‘a’ came. . good-nights’; omitted in 
+Folios. 
+
+Ill. ii. 255. ‘philosopher’s two stones’ 
+
+
+“one of which was an_ universal medicine, 
+re other a transmuter of base’ metals into 
+gold’; so Warburton; Malone explains:—“ I 
+will make him of twice the value of the phi- 
+losopher’ s stone.’ 
+
+£O gs: 79. Omitted in Quarto. 
+
+
+Pi. 71. ‘there’; the reading of the 
+Folios: Hanmer eopaeetined = sphere’; Collier 
+© chair.’ 
+
+IV. i. 93. Neither this line nor 9y is to be 
+
+
+found in the Folios, and they are omitted in 
+some copies of the Quarto. To some corruption 
+of the text is! due the ohscuritv of il. 94-06, 
+
+
+which Clarke paraphrases:—‘ The grievances 
+of my brother general, the commonwealth, and 
+the home cruelty to my born brother, cause 
+me to make this quarrel my own. The arch- 
+bishop’s brother had been beheaded by the 
+King’s order. 
+
+IV. i. 103- 139. Omitted in Quarto. 
+
+IV. i. 173. ‘true substantial form,’ 
+due form gi legal validity.’ 
+
+IV. iti. « hook-nosed , fellow of Rome’; 
+Quarto made “there cosin’ before ‘I came,’ 
+which Johnson took to be a corruption of 
+“there, Cesar.’ 
+
+EV... #i2. 025; 
+
+
++2.) iM 
+
+
+126. “commences it and sets it 
+in act and use’ 3; Tyrwhitt saw in these words 
+an alllusion “to the Cambridge Commence 
+ment and the Oxford Act; for by those differ 
+ent names the two Universities have long dis- 
+tinguished the season at which each gives te 
+her respective students a complete authority 
+to use those hoards of learning which have 
+entitled them to their several degrees.” 
+
+IV. iv. 35, ‘as flaws congealed in the spring 
+of day’; according to Warburton the allusion 
+is ‘“‘to the opinion of some philosophers that 
+the vapours being congealed in the air by the 
+cold (which is most intense in the: morning), 
+and being afterwards rarefied and let loose by 
+the warmth of the sun, occasion those sudden 
+and impetuous gusts of wind which are called 
+flaws”’; Malone explained ‘flaws’ to mean 
+“small blades of ice which are stuck on 
+the edges of the water in winfer mornings.” 
+
+IV. iv. 122. ‘loathly births of nature,’ t.e. 
+
+
+unnatural births. 
+
+v. 205. ‘And all my friends’; Tyr- 
+whitt’s conjecture for ‘thy friends’ of the 
+Folios and Quarto. Dyce, ‘ my foes.’ Clarke 
+explains the original reading thus:—‘ By the 
+first thy friends the Kings means those who 
+are friendly inclined to the prince, and who, 
+he goes on to say, must be made securely 
+friends.” 
+
+IV. v. 235. ‘’Tis called Jerusalem’; proba- 
+bly from the tapestries of the history of Jeru- 
+salem with which it was hung; now used for 
+the meetings of Convocation. 
+
+
+Vi 32533) S34un ca friend t’ court is better than 
+a penny in purse’; cp. The Romaunt of the 
+Rose, 5540:— 
+
+
+“For frende in court ate.better is 
+s 
+
+
+Than peny is in ‘purse, certis”’; 
+
+
+Camden gives the same proverbial expression 
+
+
+V. ii. 38. ‘A ragged and forestall’d remis- 
+sion’; ‘ forestall’d’ has been variously inter- 
+preted; the simplest interpretation seems to be 
+
+
+‘anticipated, asked for before being granted,’ 
+not necessarily by the Chief-Justice himself. 
+but by his friends; the explanation fits in well 
+with the dignified utterance of the speaker. 
+Others explain, ‘a pardon that is sure not 
+to be granted, the case having been prejudged’; 
+‘a pardon which is precluded from being abso- 
+lute, by the refusal of the offender to accuse 
+or alter his conduct.’ &c. 
+
+V. iii. 77. ‘Do me right’; ‘to do a man 
+right’ was formerly, according to Steevens, 
+the usual expression in pledging healths. 
+
+“And dub me knight’; it was a custom in 
+Shakespeare’s day to drink a bumper kneeling 
+to the health of one’s mistress. He who per- 
+formed this exploit was dubbed a knight for 
+the evening, cp. A Yorkshire Tragedy, ‘‘ They 
+call it knighting in London. when. they drink 
+upon their knees” (Malone). 
+
+
+1356 
+
+
+V. iii. 127. ‘ Dead? As natl in door’; an 
+ancient proverbial expression; the door-nail 
+was probably the nail on which the knocker 
+struck. ‘* It is therefore used as a comparison 
+to any one irrevocably dead, one who has 
+fallen (as Virgil says) multa morte, that is, 
+with abundant death, such as iteration of 
+strokes on the head would naturally produce.” 
+
+V. ii. 147. ‘Where is the life that late I 
+led’; a scrap of an old song; cp. Taming of 
+the Shrew, IV. i. : { 
+
+V. v. 30. ‘ obsque hoc nihil est, tis all in 
+every part’; the second and later Folios 
+correct “obsque’ to ‘absque,’ but the error 
+may have been intentional on the author’s 
+part. Pistol uses a Latin expression ‘ever 
+the same, for without this there is nothing,’ 
+and then goes on to allude to an English 
+proverbial, expression, “ All in all, and all in 
+every part,” which he seems to give as its 
+free rendering. 
+
+V. v. 113. ‘I heard a bird so sing’; a 
+proverbial expression still extant. 
+
+EpiLocue. Shakespeare’s authorship of this 
+epilogue has been doubted, and it has been 
+described as ‘a manifest and poor imitation 
+of the epilogue to As You Like It’ It is 
+noteworthy that it occurs already in the Quarto 
+(1600), though with one important difference: 
+the words ‘and so kneel down . queen’ 
+(il. 36, 37) are printed there at the end of 
+the first paragraph, after “infinitely” It 
+seems probable, therefore, that the epilogue 
+originally ended there, and that the remaining 
+lines were added somewhat later. One is 
+strongly tempted to infer that the additions 
+to the epilogue were called forth by the suc- 
+
+
+Wer) 
+
+
+The Life of King 
+
+
+“spirits that have dared’; so 
+I, 2, 3, ‘hath’; Folio 4, 
+
+
+ProLocvE I. 9. 
+Staunton; Folios 
+“ spirit, that hath.’ 
+- ii. 45, 52. ‘Elbe.’ restored by Capell; 
+Folios, 
+
+
+“Elue’; (Holinshed, ‘Elbe’; Hall, 
+“ Elve’). 
+I. ii, 61-64. Theobald (Warburton); cp. 
+Montaigne’s Essays, III. 9, (vide Florio’s 
+translation). 
+
+
+I. ii. 77. ‘Lewis the tenth’; the reading of 
+Folios, following Holinshed; Pope, from Hall, 
+reads ‘ ninth.’ 
+
+I. ii. 94. ‘amply to imbar’; so Folios (Fo- 
+lios 1, 2, ‘imbarre’); Quartos Lisp Die S09 
+bace,” Quarto 3, “tmbrace’; Rowe, ‘make 
+bare’; Theobald (Warburtcn), “imbare ’; 
+Pope, ‘openly imbrace,’ &c. Schmidt explains 
+the lines:— They strive to exclude you, in- 
+stead of excluding amply, i.e; without re- 
+striction or subterfuge, their own false titles.” 
+Perhaps Mr. A. Wright’s explanation is 
+the truer, taking ‘imbar’ in the sense of ‘to 
+bar in,’ “secure’:—‘‘ The Kings of France, 
+says the Archbishop, whose own right is de- 
+rived only through the female line, prefer to 
+shelter themselves under the flimsy protection 
+of an appeal to the Salic law, which would 
+exclude Henry’s claim, instead of fully se- 
+
+
+NOTES raat 
+$a 
+
+
+cess of the first and second parts of the play 7 
+of Sir John Oldcastle, written evidently to j 
+vindicate the character of Falstaff’s original, 
+and put on the stage as a counter-attraction be 
+to Henry IV., hence the words; added in a * 
+
+
+spirit of playful defiance, ‘ for Oldcastle died t 
+a martyr, and this is not the man’ (1. 33). 4] 
+The first part of Sir John Oldcastle was per- ? 
+formed for the first time about the ist of 
+November, 1599, the second part, dealing with = 
+the Lollard’s death, was evidently written by me 
+the end of the year. The First Part of the bs 
+true and honourable history of the Life of Sir £ 
+John Oldcastle, the good Lord Cobham, ap- 
+peared in two editions in 1600; Shakespeare’s 
+name had been impudently printed on the title- 
+page of the former and less correct edition; 
+the authors were Munday, Drayton, Wilson, 
+and Chettle. The ‘Second Part’ is not 
+known to exist. 
+
+1. 28. ‘our humble author will continue the 
+story, with Sir John in it, and make you 
+merry with fair Katherine in France’; Shake- 
+speare changed his mind. ‘“ The public was 
+not to be indulged in laughter for laughter’s 
+sake at the expense of his play. The tone of 
+the entire play of Henry V. would have been 
+altered if Falstaff had been allowed to appear 
+in it. - . Agincourt is not the field for 
+splendid mendacity. . There is no place for 
+Falstaff any longer on earth; he must find 
+refuge ‘in Arthur’s bosom.’” But the public 
+would not absolve “our humble author of his 
+promise, and they were to make mefry again 
+with their favourite 
+
+
+round about the oak 
+Of Herne the hunter.” 
+
+
+Henry V.*Notes 
+
+
+curing and defending their own titles by main- 
+taining that though, like Henry’s, derived 
+through the female line, their claim was 
+stronger than his.” 
+
+I. ii. 98. ‘in the Book of Numbers’; cp. 
+Numbers xxvii. 1-11, 
+
+I. ii. 90. ‘man’; 
+Quartos, ‘ sonne.’ 
+
+_ IL. ii. 110. ‘Forage in,’ Folios, 
+in’; Quarto 1, * Foraging ’; 
+raging the.’ 
+
+ii. 125.‘ Your grace hath cause and 
+means.’ Hanmer reads ‘ Your race hath had 
+cause, means.’ Various readings have been 
+suggested, but there seems to be no difficulty 
+whatever in understanding the text as it 
+stands. 
+
+L. ii. 131. ‘ blood’; so Folios aif 46 
+‘ Bloods’; Folio 2, ‘ Blouds,’ 
+
+I. ii. 150. ‘with ample and brim fulness ae 
+probably ‘brim’ is here adjectival; Pope reads — 
+“brimfulness’; but the accent favours the 
+present reading. 
+
+ii, 154. ‘the ill-neighbourhood ’ ; Boswell, 
+from Quartos, reads ‘the bruit thereof.’ 
+
+I, ii. 163. ‘her chronicle’; Capell, Johnson 
+conjectured; Folios read, ‘ their C.’; Quartos. 
+“your Chronicles’; Rowe, ‘his Chronicle.’ 
+
+
+the reading of Folios; 
+
+
+“ Forrage 
+Quarto 3, ‘ For 
+
+
+Folio 1, 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+1357 
+
+
+I. ii, 173. ‘tear’; so Rowe, ed. 2; Folios, 
+“tame’; Quartos, ‘ spoil’; Theobald, ‘ taint.’ 
+J. ii, 180-183. Theobald first compared these 
+lines with Cicero, De Republica, ii. 42, and 
+thought that Shakespeare had perhaps _bor- 
+rowed from Cicero. 
+
+z I. ii. 187-203. Lyly, in his Euphues (Ar- 
+ber’s Reprint, pp. 262-4), has a similar de- 
+scription of the common-wealth of the bees: 
+its ultimate source is probably Pliny’s Naturai 
+History, Book xi. (”.b., Holland’s translation 
+did not appear till 1601). 
+
+- I. ii. 197, “ majesty’; so Rowe from Quartos; 
+
+e Folios, ‘ Maitesties.’ 
+
+wv I. ii. 208. ‘Come,’ so Folios; Capell, from 
+
+4 Quartos, ‘fy’; ‘as many ways meet in one 
+
+} town’; Capell, from Quartos, reads ‘As many 
+
+4 seuerall wayes meete in one towne’; Dyce, 
+
+Lettsom conjectured ‘As many several streets,’ 
+
+&e. 
+
+I. ii, 209. ‘meet in one salt sea’; Capell, 
+fe from Quartos, reads ‘run in one self sea’; 
+Vaughan conjectured ‘run in one salt sea.’ 
+
+I. ii. 212. ‘End’; Pope’s emendation from 
+Quarto; Folios, ‘ And.’ 
+
+I. ii. 255. ‘This tun of treasure’; probably 
+suggested by the corresponding words in The 
+Famous Victories. 
+
+I. ii, 263. ‘shall strike his father’s crown 
+into the hazard’; ‘hazard’ used technically, 
+“the hazard in a_ tennis-court’’; glosses, 
+___‘ * grille de tripot’ in old French dictionarics. 
+
+: Prol. If. Pope transferred the Prologue to 
+is the end of the first scene. : 
+
+a Prol. II. 32. ‘The abuse of distance; force 
+
+a play’: so Folios; Pope, ‘ while we force a 
+play’; Warburton conjectured ‘ while we furce 
+
+-@ play, &c.; ‘to force a play’ is interpreted 
+
+by Steevens to mean ‘to produce a play by 
+
+compressing many circumstances into a narrow 
+compass.’ Various emendations have been 
+proposed, but in spite of the imperfection of 
+
+} the line as it stands, no suggestions seem to 
+_ dmprove upon it. Perhaps, after all, the line 
+
+is correct as it stands, with a .pause for a 
+
+syllable at the cesura, and with a vocalic r 
+
+in ‘force,’ making the word dissyllabic; cp. 
+
+* fierce,’ II. iv. 99. ; 
+
+Prol. II. 41. ‘ But, till the king come forth” 
+&c., i.e. ‘until the King come forth we shall 
+mot shift our scene unto Southampton.’ 
+
+IL. i. 6. ‘there shall be smiles’; Hanmer 
+
+conjectures, Warburton, ‘there shall be— 
+
+(smiles)’; Farmer, Collier, 2 ed., ‘smites’ 
+“i.e. blows). 
+
+Il. i, 26. ‘mare’; restored by Theobald 
+from Quartos; Folios read ‘name’; Hanmer, 
+“ dame’; Collier MS., ‘ jade.’ z 
+
+Il. i. 29. ‘How now, mine host Pistol!’ 
+- Quartos, ‘How do you my Hoste?’ giving the 
+_ -words to Nym. ' 
+
+IL. i. 39. ‘O well a day, Lady, if he be not 
+drawn now’; ‘drawn,’ Theobald’s emendation: 
+Folios, ‘ fewne’; Malone from Quarto 1, ‘O 
+Lord! here’s corporal Nym’s 
+
+Il. i. 44. ‘Iceland dog!’ Steevens, Johnson 
+-conjectured; Folios read ‘Island dog’; QOuar- 
+tos, ‘Tseland.’ There are several allusions to 
+“these shaggy, sharp-eared, white dogs, much 
+imported formerly as favourites for ladies.” 
+II. i. 80. ‘lagar kite of Cressid’s kind’; 
+probably a scrap from some old play. In 
+certain parallel passages the readings vary be- 
+tween ‘ Kite,’ ‘ Kit,’ ‘Catte’; ‘ Kit,’ too, is 
+tthe spelling of Folio 4. 
+
+Il. i. 86. ‘and you, hostess’; Folios, ‘ and 
+
+
+, has pointed out that 
+
+
+your Hostesse’; Folio 4, ‘Hostes you must 
+come straight to my master, and you Hoste 
+Pistole.’ 
+
+Il. i. roo. ‘ Base is the slave that pays, a 
+quotation from an old play. Steevens quotes 
+“My motto shall be, Base is the man that 
+pays”? (Heywood’s Fair Maid of the West). 
+
+II. i. r10 and 111 omitted in Folios. 
+
+Il. ii. 9. ‘Whom he hath dull’d and cloy’d 
+with gracious favours’; Folios 3, 4.- lulPd,’ 
+Quartos, followed by Steevens, ‘ whoin he hath 
+cloy’d and grac’d with princely favours.’ 
+
+UL. ii. 61.‘Who are the late commis- 
+Sstoners?’; Vaughan conjectured ‘Who ask the 
+late commissions? ’; Collier MS. the state c.’; 
+but no change is necessary; ‘late commis. 
+Stoners’ = lately appointed commissioners,’ 
+
+Il. i. 63. ‘ for it,’ t.e. for my commission. 
+
+_ IL ii 1g. ‘by treasons’; Mason con- 
+jectured ‘to treasons’; Moberly conjectured 
+“ by reasons.’ 
+
+II. ii. 118. ‘ But he that temper’d thee bade 
+thee stand up’; Moberly conjectured ‘ But he 
+that tempter-fiend that stirr’a thee up’; Dyce, 
+Johnsop conjectured ‘ tempted ’; Folios, ‘ bad’; 
+Vaughan conjectured ‘ sin thus.’ No emenda- 
+tion is necessary, tho’ it is uncertain what the 
+exact force of ‘bade thee stand up’ may be, 
+whether (1) ‘like an honest-man,’ or (2) ‘rise 
+in rebellion.’ 
+
+Il. ii.» 139-14c. ‘To mark the full-fraught 
+man and best indued With some suspicion ’ ; 
+Malone’s emendation; Theobald, ‘The best,’ 
+&c.; Folios, ‘To make thee full fraught man, 
+and best indued,’ &c.; Pope, ‘To make the 
+full-fraught rian, the best, endu’d With,’ &c. 
+
+If. ii. 148. ‘Henry’; Theobald’s correction 
+frcm Quartos; Folios, ‘ Thomas.’ 
+
+Il. ii. 176. ‘you have’; so Knight, from 
+Quartos; Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘you three’; Folio 1, 
+iii. tr, ‘A’ made a finer ena’; Folios 1, 
+2, ‘a finer’; Folios 3, 4, ‘finer’; Capell, ‘a 
+fine’; Johnson conjectured ‘a final’; Vaughan 
+conjectured ‘a fair.’ Probably Mistress Quick- 
+ly’s words are correctly reported, and should 
+not be edited. 
+
+II. iii. 14. ‘fumble with the sheets’; popu- 
+larly snpposed to be a sign of approaching 
+
+
+death. 
+Il. iii. 17-18. ‘and a’ babbled of green 
+fields’; Theobald’s famous correction of Fo- 
+
+
+lios, “and a Table of greene fields’; Theo- 
+bald’s reading was suggested to him by a MS. 
+note written in a copy of Shakespeare by ‘a 
+gentleman sometime deceased,’ who proposed 
+‘And a@ talked of green fielas.’ The Quartos 
+omit the line, giving the passage thus:— 
+
+
+“ His nose was as sharp as a pen, 
+For when I saw him fumble with the sheetes, 
+And talk of floures, and smile vpo his fin- 
+gers ends, 
+I-knew there was no way but one” 
+
+
+| (nb, ‘talk of floures’). Many suggestions 
+have been put forward since Pope explained 
+that the words were part of a stage direction, 
+and that ‘Greenfield was the name of the 
+|property-man in that time who furnished im- 
+plements, &c., for the actors.’ The marginal 
+stage-direction was, according to him., ‘A 
+table of green-fields.’ Malone, ‘in a table of 
+green fields,’ Collin MSS.. ‘on a table of 
+| green freese.’ Recently M. Henry Bradley 
+“green field’ was occa- 
+
+
+1358 
+
+
+NOTES . 
+
+
+sionally used for the exchequer table, a table 
+of green baize. A combination of this sug- 
+gestion with the reading of the Collier MS. 
+would require merely. the. change of.‘ and’ to 
+
+
+‘on.’ but one cannot easily give up one’s per- 
+fect faith in Theobald’s most brilliant con- 
+jecture, 
+
+
+Il. iii. 51. “Let senses rule’; i.e. ‘let. pru- 
+dence govern you’ (Steevens). 
+
+Il. iii. 54. ‘And hold-fast is the only dog’; 
+cp. ‘Brag is a good dog, but holdfast is a 
+
+
+better.’ 
+“II. iii. 55. ‘ Caveto,’ Quartos, ‘ cophetua.’ 
+II. iv. 57. ‘mountain sire’; Theobald, 
+
+
+‘mounting sire’; Collier, Mitford conjectured 
+‘mighty sire’; ‘ mountain’ evidently means 
+‘huge as a mountain.’ 
+
+Prol. ILI. 4. ‘ Hampton,’ Theobald’s correc- 
+tion of Folios, ‘ Dover.’ 
+
+Prol. III. 6. ‘ fanning’; Rowe’s emenda- 
+tion of Folios 1, 2, ‘ fayning,’ Folios cays 
+‘faining’; Gould conjectured ‘ playing.’ 
+
+Prol. III. 35. ‘ Eke’; the frst Folio, ‘ eech “3 
+the others, ‘ech’; probably representing the 
+pronunciation of the word. 
+
+
+- 1. 7. ‘summon up,’ Rowe’s emendation 
+of Folios, ‘commune up.’ 
+Ill. i. 15. ‘ nostril’; Rowe’s emendation of ! 
+
+
+Folios, ‘ nosthrill.’ 
+
+Ill. i. 32. ' straining’; Rowe’s emendation 
+ot Folios, ‘ Straying.’ - 
+
+Ill. ii. 21.‘ Up to the breach, you dogs! 
+avaunt, you cullions!’; so Folios; Capell reads, 
+from Quartos, ‘God’s plud!—Up to the 
+breaches you rascals! will you not up to the 
+preaches?’ 
+
+Ill. v. 46. ‘ Knights’; Theobald’s emenda- 
+tion of Folios, ‘ Kings.’ 
+
+Ill. v. 54. ‘ Rouen’; Malone’s emendation of 
+‘Rone,’ Quartos; ‘ Roan,’ Folios. 
+
+III. iv. 28-30. ‘And giddy Fortune’s furious 
+fickle wheel,’ &c.; cp. ‘ Fortune is blind : 
+whose foot is standing on a rolling stone,’ 
+Kyd’s Spanish Tragedy. 
+
+III. vi. 31.‘ fortune is painted blind’; 
+Warburton proposed the omission of “ blind,’ 
+which may have been caught up from the 
+next line. 
+
+
+Ill. vi. 41. ‘Fortune is Bardolph’s foe’; a 
+
+
+reference to the old ballad, ‘ Fortune, my 
+foe!’ : 
+III. vi. 80. ‘new-tuned’; Pope reads ‘new- 
+
+
+turned’; Collier MS., 
+White, ‘ new-found.’ 
+
+III. vi. ro8-112. Fluellen’s description of 
+Bardolph forcibly recalls Chaucer’s Sompnour 
+in the Prologue to the Canterbury Tales 
+(Quartos, ‘ whelkes, and knubs. and pumples ’ 
+for ‘bubukles, and whelks, and knobs’). 
+
+vi. 118. ‘lenity,’ Rowe’s emendation 
+from Quartus; Folios, ‘ Levity.’ 
+Il. vi. 121. ‘ habit’; i.e, sleeveless coat, the 
+herald’s tabard. 
+
+IIL. vii. 15. ‘chez les narines’; Capell, ‘ qui 
+ae Folios, ‘ ches’; Heath conjectured ‘ voyez,’ 
+wc. 
+
+Ill. vii. 43. ‘Wonder of Nature,’ probably 
+the first words of a sonnet or lyric of the 
+time. 
+
+III. vii. 68-69. ‘Le chien - au bour- 
+bier’; ‘the dog is returned to his own vomit, 
+and .the washed out sow to the mire,’ cp. 2 
+Peter ii. 22. 
+
+Prol. IV. 16. ‘name’; 
+jecture; Folios, ‘ nam’d.’ 
+
+
+“new-coined’; Grant 
+
+
+Tyrwhitt’s con- 
+
+
+Prol. IV. 20. ‘cripple tardy-gaited’; Folios, 
+“ creeple-tardy-gated.’ 
+
+Prol. IV. 26. ‘Investing lank-lean cheeks 
+and war-worn coats’; Capell, ‘And war-worn 
+coats, investing lank-lean cheeks’; Hanmer. 
+“In wasted’; Warburton, ‘Invest in’; Beckett 
+conjectured ‘ Infesting,’ &c. 
+
+IV. i. 35. ‘Qui va la’; Rowe’s emendation 
+of Folios, ‘Che vous la?’ 
+
+- i. 65. “speak lower’; so Quarto 3, 
+adopted by Malone; Qartos 1, 2, ‘lewer’: 
+Folios, ‘fewer’; cp. ‘to speak few,’ a pro- 
+vincialism for ‘to speak low,’ (according to 
+Steevens, who prefers the Folio reading). 
+
+
+IV. i. 96. ‘Sir Thomas’; Theobald’s cor: 
+rection of Folios, ‘ John.’ 
+
+- i. 155. ‘sinfully miscarry upon the 
+
+sea’; Pope reads from Quartos, ‘fall into 
+
+
+some lewd action and miscarry.’ 
+
+IV. i. 189. ‘ mote’; Malone’s emendation of 
+Folios, ‘Moth’; Quartos, ‘moath.’ : 
+
+IV. i. 262. ‘ What is thy soul of adoration? ’; 
+Knight’s reading; Folio 1 reads. ‘What? is 
+thy Soule of Odoration?’; Folios 2, Ere 
+‘ Adoration’; Warburton, ‘What is thy toll, 
+O. adoration?’; Hanmer, ‘What is thy shew 
+of adoration?’; Johnson, ‘What is thy soul, 
+O adoration? ’; &c., &c. (v. Glossary). 
+
+IV. i. 307-308. ‘take from them now the 
+sense of reckoning, if the opposed numbers’; 
+Tyrwhitt’s reading; Folios, ‘take... reck’n- 
+
+
+ing of the opposed numbers:’; Theobald, 
+“take . reck’ning; lest th’ opposed num- 
+bers,’ &e. &e. 
+
+IV. iii. 40. ‘the feast of Grispian’ falls 
+
+
+upon the 25th October. 
+
+V. iii. 44. ‘He that shall live this day, and 
+see’; Pope’s reading; Folios, ‘He that shall 
+see this day and live’; Quartos, ‘He that out- 
+lives this day and sees.’ 
+
+IV. iii. 48. Omitted in Folios, 
+
+IV. iii, 52. “his mouth’; so Folios: Quar- 
+tos, ‘their mouths’; Pope, ‘ their mouth. 
+
+IV. iv. 4. ‘Quyaltitie calmie custure me’; 
+probably Pistol catches the last word of the 
+French soldier’s speech, repeats it, and adds 
+the refrain of a popular Irish song, “Galen, 
+O custure me’ = ‘colleen oge astore. i.e. 
+‘young girl, my treasure.’ The popularity of 
+the song is evidenced by the following heading 
+of one of the songs in Robinson’s Handful of 
+Pleasant Delights (cp. Arber’s Reprint. p. 33): 
+“A Sonet of a Lover in the praise of his lady. 
+To Galen-‘o custure me; sung at eurie lines 
+end’; first pointed out by Malone. 
+
+- iv. 75. “this roaring devil? the old 
+play’; alluding to the standing character of 
+the Devil in the Morality plays. 
+
+IV. v. 11. ‘Let us die in honour; once ae 
+Knight’s emendation; Folio 1, ‘Let us dye in 
+once’; Folios 2, 3, 4, 7 Let us flye in once’; 
+
+
+&c. Omitted by Pope. 
+IV. v. 18. ‘our lives’; Steevens adds from 
+Ouartos. ‘ Unto these English, or else die with 
+
+
+fame’; Vaughan conjectured ‘ Unto these Eng- 
+
+
+lish. or else die wth shame’ ie 
+
+IV. vii. 31. ‘alike’; so Folios; Rowe reads 
+“as like’ 
+
+IV. vii. 45. ‘made’; Capelly following 
+Quartos, reads ‘ made an end’ | ae 
+
+IV. vii. 65.‘ Assyrian slings’: Theobald 
+
+
+compared Judith ix. 7, and defended the read- i 
+ing against Warburton’s proposed ‘ Balearian '. ¢ 
+(afterwards withdrawn). es si 
+
+IV. vii. 71. ‘ what herald2* 
+
+
+means this, 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+1359 
+
+
+Steevens’ reading; Folio 1, ‘ what meanes this 
+herald?’; Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘what means their 
+herald’; Hanmer conjectured ‘what mean’st 
+thou, herald?’ 
+
+IV. vii. 81. ‘their wounded steeds’; 
+lios, ‘with,’ corrected by Malone. 
+Quartos omit the line. 
+
+Prol. V. 30-35. The allusion is to Robert 
+Devereux, Earl of Essex, who was sent to 
+Ireland in 1599 to suppress Tyrone’s rebellion; 
+he left London on March 27, and returned on 
+September 28 (v. Preface). 
+
+Prol. V. 39. ‘The emperor’s coming’; 1.e. 
+‘the emperor is coming,’ or (better) ‘the em- 
+peror’s coming,’ parallel to ‘the King of Eng- 
+Jand’s stay at home.’ The line refers to the 
+visit of Sigismund, Emperor of Germany, 1st 
+May 1416. Malone supposed that a line had 
+dropped out before ‘The Emperor,’ &c.; Ca- 
+ell re-wrote the passage. It seems, however, 
+that if instead of a semi-colon, a comma is 
+placed after ‘at home,’ the lines are perfectly 
+intelligible "as they stand. 
+
+V. i. 86. ‘Doll’; Capell, ‘Nell’; which is 
+probably the correct reading, though Shake- 
+speare may himself have made the mistake. 
+
+
+Fo- 
+The 
+
+
+V. ii. 7. ‘Burgundy’; Rowe’s emendation, 
+from Quartos, of Folio 1, ‘ Burgogne’; Fo 
+lios 2, 4, ‘ Burgoigne’; Folio 3, * Bargoigne. 
+
+V. ii. 11. ‘So are you, princes English 
+every one’; Folios 1, 2, 3, “So are you 
+princes (English) every one’; Folio 4, ‘Se 
+are you princes (English every one).’ 
+
+
+ii. 12. ‘England’; so Folios 2, 3, 4, 
+Folio 1 reads ‘ Ireland.’ 
+. ii, 50. ‘all’; Rowe’s reading; Folios, 
+* withall,’ 
+V. ii. 82. ‘Pass our accept’; Warburton 
+
+
+reads, ‘Pass, or accept’; Malone conjectured 
+‘Pass, or except,’ &c. 
+“V. ii. 264. ‘queen of all, Katharine’; Ca- 
+
+
+'pell conjectured, adopted by Dyce, ‘ queen of 
+
+
+all Katharines.’ 
+
+V. ii. 368. ‘ Héritier’; Folios read ‘ Here- 
+tere’; ‘Preclarissimus’; so Folios; Rann 
+reads ‘ Percarissimus’; the error is, however, 
+copied from Holinshed. 
+
+V. ii. 402. ‘Sennet’; Folio 1, ‘ Senet’; 
+Folio 2, ‘ Souet,’ as though referring to the 
+fourteen lines of the Epilogue. 
+
+Epil. 13. ‘Which oft our stage hath 
+shown’; vide Preface to 1, 2, 3 Henry VI. 
+
+
+The First Part of King Henry VI.—Notes 
+
+
+I. i. 3. ‘crystal,’ unnecessarily changed by 
+Hanmer to ‘crisped’; Warburton, ‘ cristed’ or 
+“crested’; Roderick, ‘tristfu’ tresses in the 
+sky,’ or ‘tresses in the crystal sky.’ 
+
+Tt. i. 6. ‘King Henry the Fifth’; Pope, 
+the Fifth’; Walker, ‘King Henry 
+
+Fifth’; Pope’s reading has been generally fol- 
+lowed by modern editors. 
+
+I. i. 12. ‘ wrathful’; Rowe, ‘ awful.’ 
+
+I. i. 24. ‘ glory’s’; Folios, ‘ Glories.’ 
+
+I. i. 27. ‘By magic werses have contrived 
+
+~Ius end’; alluding to the old notion “that 
+life might be taken away by metrical charms ie 
+
+(Johnson). Folios 2, 3, 4; ‘Verse’; Pope, 
+“verse have thus.’ 
+
+I. i. 33. ‘had not’; Vaughan proposed ‘ had 
+but’ (but cp. ll. 41-43). ‘ 
+
+I. i. 49. ‘ moist’; so Folios 2, 3, 4; Folio 1, 
+“ moistned.” , 
+
+Tees 56., “OF. bright———’; various attempts 
+have been made to fill up the blank, which 
+some editors explain as due to the inability of 
+the compositor to read the name in the MS.; 
+Francis Drake, Berenice, Cassiopeia, Alex- 
+ander, &c., have been suggested. Probably the 
+speech is interrupted by the entrance of the 
+messenger. 
+
+I. i. 60. ‘Rheims’; Folios, ‘ Rheimes’; evi- 
+dently intended as a dissyllable; but Capell’s 
+©Rheims, Roan,’ derives some support from 
+the fact that ‘ Roav,’ i.e. ‘ Rouen,’ is mentioned 
+by Gloucester in line 6s (Cambridge ed.). 
+
+I. i. 65. ‘ Rowen’; Fo'io 1, ‘ Roan.’ 
+
+
+I. i. 76. ‘A third’; Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘A third 
+man’; Walker, ‘A third one’; Delius, “A 
+third thinketh’; Keightiey, ‘A third thinks 
+
+
+that’; Dyce. ‘ And a third thinks,’ &c. Surely 
+a simpler solution of the difficulty is to read 
+third’ as a dissyllable with a trilled r. 
+
+I. i. 78. ‘ Awake, awake’; Felio 2, ‘ Awake, 
+qway,’ 
+
+
+Ii. 83. ‘their’; Theobald’s emendation; 
+Folios, ‘her’; Anon. conjectured ‘ our.’ 
+I. i. 94. ' Reignier’; Rowe’s emendation of 
+
+
+“ Reynold’ of the Folios. 
+I. i. 195. ° The Duke of Alengon; Walker 
+omits ‘of,’ to improve the rhythm of the line” 
+
+
+I. i. 96: ‘crowned’; Rowe’s emendation; 
+‘crown’d,’ the reading of the Folios. 
+
+I. i. 124. ‘flew,’ Rowe’s correction; Folios. 
+‘ slew. 
+
+I. i. 128. ‘A Talbot! a Talbot! cried out 
+amain.’ The line has been variously emended 
+as being defective, metrically. Pope, ‘4 Tal- 
+bot! Talbot! cried’; Seymour, ‘A Talbot! 
+
+
+cried, a Talbot!’; Vaughan, ‘ Taibot! a Talbot! 
+cried.’ If, however, ‘cricd’ is read as a dis- 
+syllable, the movement of the line is parallel 
+to that of ‘ prevent it, resist it, let it not be 
+so, in Richard II. iv., and no correction seems 
+necessary— 
+
+
+A Télbot!\ A Télbot! criled éut | amain | . 
+
+
+I. i. 131. ‘Sir John Fastolfe’; Theobald’s 
+emendation here and elsewhere of Folios, 
+©Sir John Falstaffe’; but in all probability 
+Falstaff was the popular form of the name. and 
+it is questionable whether the text should be 
+altered here. ‘‘He was a lieutenant general. 
+deputy regent to the Duke of Bedford in 
+Normandy, and a Knight of the Garter.” 
+
+I. i. 176. ‘ steal,” Mason’s conjecture; Folios, 
+‘send’; Keightly, ‘ fetch.’ 
+
+I. ii. 1. ‘Mars his true moving’; cp. “ You 
+are as ignorant in the true movings of my muse 
+as the astronomers are in the true movings of 
+Mars, which to this day they could not attain 
+to.” quoted by Steevens from one of Nash’s 
+orefaces to ‘Gabriel Harvey's Hunt's Up, 
+1596. Kepler’s work on Mars (Comment. de 
+Motibus Stelle Martis) was published in 1609. 
+
+
+1360 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+I, ii. 13. ‘ live’; Capell, ‘ sit’; Walker, ‘ lie. 
+
+I. ii, 30. ‘ bred’; Folios, ‘ bread.’ 
+
+I. ii. 56. ‘nine sibyls of old Rome.’ The 
+number of the Sibyls is variously given as 
+three, four, seven, ten; possibly the ‘nine 4, is 
+here due to confusion with the nine Sibylline 
+books. 
+
+I. ii. 86. “which you see,’ reading of Folios 
+2, 3, 4; Folio 1, ‘which you may see.’ 
+
+I. ii. 99. ‘ Ave’; Folios, ‘ fine.’ : 
+
+I. ii, 101. ‘ Out of a great deal of old iron’; 
+Dyce’s conjecture, ‘out of a deal old iron,’ 
+seems the best of the emendations proposed. 
+
+I. ii. 103. ‘ne’er fly from a man’; so Folio 
+1; Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘ne’re flye no man’; Col- 
+lier MS., ‘ ne’er fly from no man’; there was 
+probably some jingle intended:— 
+
+
+Cuar. Then come, o’ God’s name; I fear no 
+woman. 
+
+Puc. And while I live, I’ll ne’er Ay from no 
+man. 
+
+
+I. ii. 108. ‘ thy desire,’— desire for thee. 
+
+I. ii. 131. ‘ Except Suint Martin’s summer’ ; 
+“except prosperity after misfortune, like fair 
+weather at Martlemas, after winter has begun ” 
+(Johnson). St. Martin’s Day is November 
+11th. 
+
+I. ii. 138. ‘ That proud insulting ship, Which 
+Cesar and his fortune bare at once,’ evidently 
+suggested by the following passage in North’s 
+translation of Plutarch’s ‘‘ Life of Cesar ”:— 
+“ Cesar hearing that, straight discovered him- 
+self unto the faster of the pynnace, who at 
+first was amazed when he saw him; but Ceasar, 
+then taking him by the hand, said unto him, 
+good fellow, be of good cheer, ... and fear 
+not, for thow hast Cesar and his fortune with 
+thee.” 
+
+I. ii. 140. ‘ Mohamet inspired with a dove’; 
+cp. “he (Mahomet) used to feed (a dove) 
+with wheat out of his ear; which dove, when it 
+was hungry, lighted on Mahomet’s shoulder, 
+and thrust its bill in to find its breakfast: 
+Mahomet persuading the rude and simple Ara- 
+bians that it was the Holy Ghost that gave him 
+advice ” (Raleigh’s “ History of the World 5s 
+Doma yi: 
+
+I. ti. 143. ‘Saint Philip’s daughters’; “the 
+four daughters of Philip mentioned in the 
+Acts’” (Hanmer). 
+
+I. ii. 145. ‘ reverently worship’; Capell, ‘ ever 
+worship’;  Steevens, “reverence, worship 444 
+Dyce (Collier MS.), ‘ reverent worship’; the 
+last seems the only plausible reading. 
+
+J. i*. 148. ‘ Orleans,’ Folios, ‘ Orleance ’; 
+Capel’ ‘ hence.’ 
+
+J. iii, 4, “’tis Gloucester’; 
+tion; Folios, ‘’tis Gloster’; Steevens, ‘it is 
+Gloster,’ &c.; ch. 1. 62 below, where Folios 
+similarly read ‘ Gloster,’ 
+
+. lil. 29. ‘ ambitious Humphrey’; Folio 4; 
+“ ambition’; “ Humphrey,’ Theobald’s emenda. 
+tion; Folio 1, ‘ Vmpheir’; Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘Um- 
+pire. 
+
+I. iii, 35. ‘indulgences to sin’; “the public 
+stews were formerly under the jurisdiction of 
+the bishop of Winchester ” (Pope). 
+
+I. iii. 72. ‘as e’er thou canst; Cry’; Folios, 
+“as e’re thou canst, cry’; Collier MS., ‘as 
+thou canst cry.’ 
+
+I. iii, 82. ‘cost,’ Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘deare cost.’ 
+
+I. iii. 88. ‘it ere long’; so Folios Tynes 
+Folios 3, 4, ‘it e’re be long’; Capell, ‘ it ere ’t 
+
+
+Pope’s emenda- 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+be loyg’; Collier MS., ‘ié off, ere long’; 
+Orson, ‘ at it.’ 
+
+
+I. iv. 22. ‘on the turrets,’ Folios, ‘in an 
+
+
+Ro Reet of a tower’ (Malone). 
+Piety: 
+of ‘Earle’ of the Folios. 
+
+I. iv. 33. ‘so vile-esteem’d ’; Pope, ‘ so wilde 
+esteem’d’; Folios, ‘so pil’d esteem’d *; Capell, 
+“so pill’d esteem’d’; Mason, ‘so ill-esteemed,” 
+&e. F 
+
+I. iv. 95. “like thee, Nero,’ Malone; Folio 1, 
+“like thee’; Folio 2, ‘Nero like will’; Folios 
+3, 4, “Nero like, will’; Pope, ‘ Nero-like,’ &c. 
+
+. iv. 101. ‘Joan la Pucelle ’; Folios, ‘ Joan 
+de Puzel’ (and elsewhere). 
+
+I. v. 6. ‘ Blood will I draw on thee, thou art 
+a witch’; “the superstition of those times 
+taught that he that could draw the witch’s 
+blood was free from her power” (Johnson). 
+
+I. v. 21. ‘ like Hannibal,’ who, in order to 
+escape, devised the stratagem of fixing lighted 
+twigs to the horns of oxen. (Cp. Livy, xxii. 
+16.) . 
+
+I. v. 30. ‘ treacherous from’; so Folios 30145 
+Folios 1, 2, ‘ trecherous from’; Pope, ‘tim- 
+*rous from.’ 
+
+I. vi. 2. ‘ English’ 
+Folios 2, 3, 4, 
+“English dogs.’ 
+
+- vi. 6. ‘Adonis’ gardens” “The proverb 
+alluded to seems always to have been used in 
+a bad sense, for things which make a fair 
+show for a few days, and then wither away; 
+but the author of this play, desirous of making 
+a show of his learning, without considering its 
+propriety, has made the Dauphin apply it as an 
+encomium ”’ (Blakeway). Cp. Faerie Queene, 
+III. vi. 29; Folio 1, ‘ Garden.’ 
+
+I. vi. 22. ‘Than Rhodope’s or Memphis’ ” 
+Hanmer’s emendation; Folios ‘or Memphis’ ; 
+
+
+(trisyllabic), so Folio 1; 
+“English wolves’; Staunton, 
+
+
+Capell’s ‘of Memphis’ has been generally 
+adopted. Pliny, writing of the pyramids near 
+Memphis, records that “the fairest and most 
+
+
+commended for workmanship was built at the 
+cost and charge@ of one Rhodope, a verie 
+strumpet.”’ : 
+
+I. vi. 25. ‘ the rich-jewel’d coffer of Darius’; 
+referred to by Plutarch in his “ Life of Alex- 
+ander,” as the “ preciousest thing, sand the 
+richest that was gotten of aH spoyls and riches, 
+taken at the overthrow of Darius . « he said 
+he would put the Iliads of Homer into it, 
+as the worthiest thing.” 
+
+i. 8. ‘ redoubted Burgunay’; Duke of 
+Burgundy, surnamed Philip the Good. 
+
+IT. i. 20. ‘ all’ together’; Rowe’s emendation 
+of ‘altogether’ of Folios, 
+
+whilaoe 
+glad’; Pope, ‘I am glad.’ 
+
+IT. i. 63. ‘your quarters’; “ your,’ so Folio 
+1; Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘our’; ‘ quarters ’; so Folios 
+I, 2, 3: Folio 4, ‘ Quarter.’ 
+
+T ji. 20. ‘Arc, Rowe’s 
+‘acre’ of Folios. ; 
+
+Il. ii. 38. ‘ Auvergne’; Rowe’s emendation 
+of Folio 1, ‘ Ouergne’; Folios 2, 3, ‘ Auergne’: 
+Folio 4, ‘ Avergne.’ 
+
+II. iti. 49. ‘I substance’; Vaughan proposed 
+to read, ‘I shadow, ave and substance.’ 
+
+Il. iv. 6. ‘in the error’; Johnson (adopted 
+by Capell), ‘7 the right’; Hudson, ‘in error.’ 
+
+Il. iv. 83. ‘ His grandfather was Lionel Duke 
+of Clarence’; this is erroneous; Duke Lionel 
+was his maternal great-great-grandfather. 
+
+iv. 9x. ‘executed’; Pope, ‘headed re, 
+
+
+emendation of 
+
+
+27. ‘Duke’; Theobald’s emendation — 
+
+
+wats way: 
+
+
+“ay, and glad’; Folios, ‘I and 
+
+
+: 
+
+
+iv. 117. ‘wiped’; Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘ wip’t’; 
+lio 1, ‘ whipt.’ 
+
+neg “@ thousand ’; Collier MS., ‘ Ten 
+. iv. 132. ‘gentle sir’; so Folios 2, 3, 4; 
+I, “genile.” Anon conjectured ‘ gentle- 
+
+
+v. “enter Mortimer’; Edmund Mortimer 
+d under Henry V. in :422, and died in 
+castle in Ireland in 1424. 
+
+_ Ii. v. 6. ‘an age of care’; Collier MS., ‘a 
+_ cage of care.” ; 
+
+3 II. v. 74. ‘For by my mother I derived am’; 
+_ mother’ should strictly be ‘ grandmother,’ #.e. 
+2) ather’s mother. 
+
+,¥. 113- “fair be ali’; Theobald, ‘ fair 
+
+
+* 
+
+
+OT. v. 123. ‘choked with ambition of the 
+
+‘meaner sort,’ i.e. “shifted by the ambition of 
+e whose right to the crown was inferior to 
+own” (Clarke). 
+
+IE. v. r2o9. ‘ill the advantage’; ‘ill,’ Theo- 
+
+ald’s emendation of ‘ will’ of the Folios. Col- 
+
+‘will the advancer.’ 
+
+
+‘Til. i. 142. ‘kind’; Pope, ‘ gentle’; Capell, 
+|, kind’; Collier MS., ‘and kind’; prob- 
+‘the line should be read: 
+
+
+: tal 
+_“ O loving iincle. || Kind Dike | of Gloucéster.” 
+
+
+1 T. i. 199. ‘lose,’ should lose; Folio 1, 
+‘loose’; Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘ should lose.’ 
+
+
+IH. ii. 14. “Paysans, pauvres gens de 
+France’; Rowe’s emendation of Folios, 
+
+
+*Peasauns la pouure, &c. 
+
+“IHL ii. 40. ‘the pride’; Theobald, ‘ the 
+?» Hanmer, ‘ being prize’; Jackson, ‘ the 
+bride’; Waughan, ‘the gripe.’ 
+
+TI. ii. 52. ‘ ali despite’; Collier MS., ‘ hell’s 
+73. ‘God be wi’ you’; Rowe’s 
+nendation of Folios, ‘God b’ uy.’ 
+
+TI. ii. 118. ‘ and martial’; Coliier MS., ‘ and 
+less’; Vaughan, ‘ unmatchable.’ 
+
+. ili. 85. ‘Done like a Frenchman: turn, 
+turn again’; “the inconstancy of the 
+nch was always a subject of satire. I have 
+a dissertation to prove that the index of 
+ind upon our steeples was made in form 
+-a cock to ridicule the French for their fre- 
+nt changes” (Johnson). 
+
+‘Til. iv. 18. ‘I do remember’; “Henry was 
+nine months old when his father died, and 
+yer even saw him” (Malone). 
+
+. ty. 38. ‘the law of arms is such’; “ By 
+“ancient law before the Conquest, fighting 
+the king’s palace, or before the king’s judges, 
+
+s punished with death. And by Statute 33, 
+fenry VIII., malicious striking in the king’s 
+ace, whereby blood is drawn, is punishable 
+petual imprisonment and fine at the 
+'s pleasure and also with loss of the of- 
+der’s right hand” (Blackstone). 
+
+TV. i. 19. ‘at the battle of Patsa’; Capell’s 
+emendation (adopted by Malone) of ‘ Poictiers’ 
+-of-the Folios. The battle of Poictiers was 
+ught 1357; the date of the present scene is 
+
+
+_ IV. i. 180. ‘An if I wist he did,’ Capell; 
+i ‘ And if I wish he did’; Rowe, ‘ And 
+
+
+a 
+2 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+ee S 
+
+
+eas 
+
+
+if I wis he did—’; (in note), ‘ And if I wis, 
+he did.—’; Johnson, ‘ And if—I wish—he did—’ 
+or ‘ And tf he did,—I wish—’; Steevens, ‘ And, 
+if I wist, he did,—.’ 
+
+IV. ii. 14. ‘ their love’; Hanmer, ‘ our love,’ 
+
+IV. ii. 22. ‘ war’; Capell, ‘ death.’ 
+
+IV. ii. 26. ‘ spoil’; Vaughan, ‘ steel.’ 
+
+IV. iii. 51. “That ever living man of mem- 
+ory,’ i.e. that ever man of living memory. 
+Lettsom, ‘man of ever-living”’ 
+
+IV. iv. 16. ‘legions,’ Rowe’s emendation of 
+
+Folios. . “ Regions.’ 
+7. iv. 19. ‘tn advantage lingering’; Staun- 
+ton, “in disadvantage ling’ring’; Lettsom, ‘in 
+disvantage lingering’; Vaughan, ‘ disadvantage 
+ling’ring.” Johnson explains the phrase, ‘* Pro- 
+tracting his resistance by the advantage of a 
+strong post ’’; Malone, “‘ Endeavouring by every 
+means, with advantage to himself, to linger 
+out the action.” 
+
+IV. iv. 1. ‘host’; so Folios 3, 4; Folios 1, 
+2, “hoast’; Theobald’s conjecture (adopted by 
+Hanmer), ‘ horse.’ 
+
+IV. iv. 42. ‘rescue: he is’; Folios 1, 2, 
+“rescue, he 1s’; Folios 3, 4, ‘rescue, if he is’; 
+
+
+Rowe (ed. 1), ‘rescue, if he’s’; (ed. 2) 
+“rescue, he’s’; Pope, ‘rescue now, he’s.’ 
+IV. v. 39. ‘ shame’; Walker, ‘ sham’d.’ 
+IV. vi. 44. ‘On that advantage,’ so the 
+Folios; Theobald conjectured ‘On that bad 
+
+
+vantage,’ but subsequently read, ‘Out on that 
+
+
+vantage’; Hanmer, ‘Ok! what advantage’; 
+Vaughan, “ Oh, hated vantage!’ &c. 
+PV (vill: 
+
+
+“Triumphant Death, smear’d with captivity, 
+Young pelbges valour makes me smite at 
+thee’’ ; 
+
+
+the phrase ‘ smear’d with captivity,’ has not 
+been clearly explained; at first sight it is diffi- 
+cult to determine its exact force, and whether 
+the words refer to Death or to the speaker 
+(Talbot). Leo explains that ‘ Death is sup- 
+posed to go triumphantly over the battle field, 
+smeared with the terrible aspect of captivity’; 
+but possibly the reference is to the Christian 
+belief that Christ took Death captive. Death 
+the Victor is, from this point of view, Death 
+the Victim; it is, as it were, unconsciously 
+smeared (i.e. smirched) with the wretched (not 
+the terrible) aspect of captivity. 
+
+IV. vii. 60. ‘ But where’s’; so Folios; Rowe, 
+‘Where ts’; Lettsom proposed, ‘ First, where’s.’ 
+
+IV. vii. 70. ‘Henry’; so Folio 1; Folios 2, 
+3, 4, ‘our King Henry.’ The line is prob- 
+ably to be read:— 
+
+
+“Great mareshal to Henry the Sixth’ 
+
+
+V. i. 17. ‘ Knit,’ the reading of the Folios; 
+Pope first suggested ‘kin,’ which was also 
+adopted by Theobald, Hanmer, Warburton, 
+and Johnson; Capel! restored ‘ knit,’ which was 
+adonted by Steevens and Malone. The Cam- 
+bridge editions see in ‘knit,’ “‘a conceit sug- 
+gested by the ‘ Knot of amity’ in the preceding 
+line.” 
+
+V. i. 21. ‘ Marriage, uncle! alas, my years 
+are young!’ Pope reads, ‘ Marriage, alas! my 
+years are yet too young’; Capell, ‘ Marriage, 
+good uncle! alas, my years are young’; Walker, 
+© Marriage, uncle, ’las my years are young.’ 
+
+V. i. 21. ‘My years are young’; ‘‘ His ma- 
+jesty was, however, twenty-four years old” 
+
+
+ios, 
+} I wish he did—’; Theobald (in text), ‘An | (Malone), 
+
+
+| 
+
+
+& 
+e 
+ie 
+
+
+1362 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+V. i. 49. “where inshipp’d’; the reading of 
+Folio 4; Folios 1, 2, ‘ wherein ship’d’; Folio 
+3, ‘wherein shipp’d.’ 
+
+V. iii. 8. ‘ speedy and quick’; Pope, ‘ speedy 
+quick’; Walker, ‘ speed and quick.’ ‘ argues’; 
+Vaughan, ‘ urges.’ 
+
+V. iii, 10. ‘cull’d’; Collier MS., ‘ call’d.’ 
+
+V. iii, 1. ‘regions’; Folios, ‘ Regions’; 
+Warburton, ‘ legions.’ 
+
+V. iii. 48, 49. ‘I kiss . . . side’; Capell and 
+sther editors transpose these lines:—‘ And lay 
+
+side. I kiss . {kissing her, hand] 
+>» je peace.” 
+
+V. iii. 57. ‘Keeping them prisoner under- 
+neath her wings’; Folios 1, 2, ‘ prisoner’; 
+Folios 3, 4, ‘ prisoners’; Vaughan, ‘ prisoned’; 
+“her wings,’ Folios 3, 4; Folio 1, ‘his wings’; 
+Folio 2, ‘hir wings’; Vaughan, ‘ its wings,’ 
+
+V. iii, 63. ‘ Twinkling another counter- 
+feited beam’; Vaughan, ‘Kindling another 
+counterfeited beam’; or ‘Twinkling in other 
+counterfeited beams.’ 
+
+
+V. iii. 68. ‘Hast not a tongue? is she not 
+here?” Anon. conjectured ‘ tongue to speak?’ 
+“here’?; Folio 1, ‘heere?’; Folios 2, S54, 
+
+
+heere thy prisoner’; Keightley, ‘ here alone’; 
+Lettsom, ‘ here in place,’ or ‘ here beside thee’; 
+Vaughan, ‘ present. here.’ 
+
+V. iii. 71. ‘ makes the senses rough’; so the 
+Folios; Hanmer,‘ makes the senses crouch’; 
+Capell, ‘make . . crouch’; Jackson, ‘ makes 
+the senses touch’; Collier MS., ‘mocks the 
+sense of touch.’ 
+
+V. iii. 78, 79. ‘She’s beautiful, and there- 
+fore to be woo’d,’ &c. These lines were evi- 
+dently proverbial; cp. Richard IIT., 1. ii, 228, 
+230, and Titus Andronicus, II. i. 82, 83. 
+
+V. iii, 108. ‘ Lady’; Capell, “Nay, hear me, 
+Lady’; Collier MS., ‘Lady, pray tell me’; 
+EESOM, “Lady, sweet lady’; Dyce, ‘I prithee, 
+Ie REA™ oe 
+
+V. iii. 145.‘ And here I will expect thy 
+
+
+coming’; Dyce, ‘here, my lord’; Folio 4, 
+‘coming’; Folios 1, 2, 3, ‘comming’; Capell, 
+“coming, Reignier’; Collier MS., “ coming 
+down’; Anon. conjectured “coming, king’; 
+Anon. conjectured ‘ communing.’ 
+
+V. iii. 154. ‘ country’; so the Folios; Theo- 
+bald, ‘ counties’; Capell, ‘ countries’; Malone, 
+“ county.’ 
+
+V. ili. 179. ‘ modestly’; Folio 1, ‘ modestie? 
+
+V. iii. 192. “And natural’; Perring, ‘ Maid- 
+natural’; Capell, ‘And’; Folio 1, ‘ Mad as 
+Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘Made’; Pope, ‘ Her’; Collier, 
+‘*Mid’; Jackson conjectured ‘Man’; Barry, 
+“Made’; Vaughan. ‘ Mild’ 
+
+V. iv. 37. ‘Not me begotten’; Anon. con- 
+jectured ‘Me, not begotten’; Malone, ‘ Not 
+one begotten’; Anon. conjectured ‘ Not mean- 
+begotten,’ 
+
+V. iv. 49. ‘No, misconceived!’; so Steevens; 
+Folios, 1, 2, 3, ‘No misconceived,’ Folio 4, ‘no, 
+misconceived Joan’; Capell, ‘No, miscon- 
+ceivers’; Vaughan, ‘No, misconceited!’ 
+
+V. iv. 121. ‘ Poison’d’; Theobald, ‘ prison’d.’ 
+
+V. iv. 150. ‘Stand’st thou aloof upon com- 
+parison?’ ‘Do you stand to compare your 
+present state, a state which you have neither 
+right nor power to maintain, with the terms 
+which we offer? ’’ (Johnson). 
+
+V. v. 39. ‘Yes, my lord’; so Folio 1; 
+Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘ Yes, my good lord’; Anon. con- 
+jectured, ‘Yes, yes, my lord, or ‘Why, yes, 
+my lord’; Dyce, ‘O, yes, my lord’; Vaughan, 
+“Yes, my lord—more.’ 
+
+V. v. 55. ‘ Marriage’; so Folio 1; Folios 2, 
+3, 4, read ‘ But marriage’; perhaps we should 
+read ‘ marriage.’ 
+
+V. v. 64. ‘ bringeth,’ the reading of Folio 1; 
+Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘bringeth forth’; perhaps the 
+difficulty of the line is due to the quadrisyl- 
+
+
+labic nature of the word ‘contrary’ ‘cén- 
+terary.’ 
+V. v. 90. ‘To cross’; Walker, ‘ Across.’ 
+
+
+. 
+
+
+The Second Part of King Henry VI.—Notes 
+
+
+I. i. 1. ‘As by your high,’ &c.; ‘The Con- 
+tention’ reads:—‘ As by your high imperial 
+majesty’s command.’ 
+
+I. i. 7. ‘and’; the reading of Folio 1; Folios 
+2, 3, 4, omit it. 
+
+. i. 19. ‘lends’; Rowe, ‘ lend’st.’ 
+
+L. i. 50. “duchy of Anjou and the county of 
+Maine’; chaneed by Canell from Quartos to 
+dutchies of Anjou and Maine.’ 
+
+I. i. 63. “kneel down’; Pope reads ‘ kneel 
+you down’; Keightley, Collier MS., ‘ kneel 
+thee down.’ Perhaps ‘kneel’ is to be read as 
+a dissyllable. 
+
+- 1. 88. ‘ Beaufort’; 
+ford’; Rowe, ‘ Bedford,’ 
+
+I. i, 93. ‘And had his highness in his infancy 
+Crowned’; Grant White’s emendation of Folios, 
+SANG fhaothie) . Crowned’; Rowe reads 
+“And was Crowned’; Capell, ‘O hath 
+- . . Been crowr’d’; Malone, ‘And hath 
+
+. . Been crown’d.’ 
+
+I. i. 102. ‘ Defacing’; Capell reads, ‘ Re- 
+versing,’ following, ‘The Contention,’ 
+
+I i. 247. ‘humours fits’; so Folios, Quartos; 
+oe reads ‘humour fits’; Malone, ‘ humours 
+£. 
+
+
+Folios read ‘ Beau- 
+
+
+I. ii, 22. ‘My troublous dream this night 
+doth make me sad’; Capell’s emendation of 
+Folios, ‘My troublous dreames . . doth,’ &c, 
+
+ii. 38. ‘And in that chair where kings 
+and queens are crown’d’; ‘are,’ Hanmer’s 
+correction from Quartos; Folios 1, 2, read, 
+‘wer’; Folios 3, 4, ‘ were.’ 
+
+I. ii. 59. ‘thou wilt ride with us’; Dyce, 
+from Quartos, ‘thou’Ilt ride with us, I’m 
+sure’; Hanmer, ‘thou too wilt ride with us 2 
+Vaughan, ‘thou; thou wilt ride with us.’ 
+
+I. ii. 71. ‘What say’st thou? majesty!’; 
+Capell reads from Quartos, “My majesty! why, 
+man’; Naughan, ‘What say’st thou, ‘ Ma- 
+jesty’?? &c. 
+
+I. ii. roo. ‘A crafty knave does need no 
+broker’; an old proverb given in Ray’s collec- 
+tion. 
+
+I. iii. 4. “In the quill’; Hanmer, ‘in quill’; 
+Jackson, ‘in quiet’; Singer, ‘in the coil’; 
+Collier MS., ‘in sequel,’ &c. In Ainsworth’s — 
+Latin Dictionary, 1761, the phrase is rendered, 
+“ex compacto aguat.’ Halliwell and others 
+explain it also as ‘all together in a body.’ 
+This interpretation is borne out by a passage 
+‘in ‘The Devonshire Damsel’s Frolic,’ one of 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+1363 
+
+
+the 
+called *Choyce Drollery,’ 
+
+
+“Songs and Sonnets’ in the collection 
+&e. (1656) :— 
+
+
+“Thus those females were all in a quill 
+And following on thetr pastimes still.” | 
+
+
+No satisfactory explanation has yet been given 
+of the origin of the phrase. The following 
+solution is suggested:—‘ the qutll’’ I take to 
+be a popular elaboration of the more correct 
+phrase “a quill,’ which occurs in the ballad 
+quoted; the latter seems to be a corruption 
+of Fremch accueil, O. F. acueil, acoil, akel, 
+achoil, &c., ‘a gathering together.’ It is 
+noteworthy that a verb ‘ aquyle’ occurs in one 
+passage in Middle English, where in all prob- 
+ability it is the English form of the verb 
+cd Le ae (Cp. Pearl, ed. Gollancz, p. 
+122. 
+
+I. iii. 33. ‘ master was’; Warburton’s emen- 
+dation of Folios, ‘ misiress was.’ 
+
+
+Lait v7 ‘haughty’; probably an error for 
+easel) the reading of Folios 2, 3, 4; Pope, 
+* proud. 
+I. iii. 93. ‘to the lays’: Rowe, ‘their lays’ 
+Sapelii. 149. “most master wear’; ‘ master,’ 
+<— een, ‘master’; ‘wear,’ so Folio 1; Folios 
+3>. 4, ‘wears,’ ‘most master’ = ‘the one 
+oie is most master,’ t.e. ‘ the queen.’ 
+TT. iii. 153. ‘fume needs’; Grant White 
+(Dyce and Walker conjectured) ‘ fury,’ which 
+
+
+4 
+a 
+
+
+seems a most plausible emendation; ‘ needs,’ 
+
+
+the reading of Folio ES Folios Zean3y as | can 
+need’; , Keightley, * needs now.’ 
+
+I. iii. 154. ‘ far’; Pope reads ‘ fast,’ adopted 
+by_ many editors. 
+
+Te iii. 208. ‘ This doom, my lord, if I may 
+judge’; Capell reads, * This do, my lord, ye | 
+may be the judge’; Dyce from Quartos, * This 
+fs my doom, my lord, if I may judge’; Vaughan 
+conjectured ‘ This doom, my lord ‘if I may 
+
+
+judge, is law’; Collier MS., ‘This doom, 
+gracious lord, é I may judge’ 
+
+I. iii. 218. ‘ the spite of, man’; Capell reads 
+“the sight of my master’ Folios 2f.3,aread 
+“the spite of my man’; Folio 4, ‘the spite 
+of my master’; Collier MS., “the spite of this 
+man’; Steevens, “the spite of a man’; Vaughan 
+conjectured ‘the spite of many.’ 
+
+T. iv. 35. ‘What fates await’; so Folios; 
+Pope reads ‘ Tell me what fates await’; Capell, 
+“What fate awaits’; Vaughan, ‘What fate 
+awaiteth then’; Wordsworth, ‘Tell me what 
+fate awaits.’ 
+
+
+my 
+
+
+1 eA AS “we watch’d you at an inch’; 
+Daniel, ‘we've catch’d in the nick,’ or ‘ at 
+the nick. 5 
+
+I. iv. 65. ‘ Aio te AZacida, Romanos vincere 
+
+
+posse’; the ambiguous answer which Pyrrhus 
+received from the oracle at Delphi before his 
+war against the Romans; meaning either ‘I 
+say that thou the descendant of AZacus, mayest 
+conquer the Romans,’ or ‘I say that the 
+Romans may conquer thee, descendant of 
+A®acus’; ‘te’ inserted by Warburton; Folios 1, 
+2, read, ‘ #actda’; Folios. 3, 4 ‘ Hacide’; 
+Rowe, Cee ZEacidem.’ 
+yg EB & “Tant@ne animis ce@lestibus ire?’ 
+“Ts such ‘resentment found in heavenly minds?’ 
+{Zneid, a 15). Omitted by Pope. 
+als “With such holiness can you do 
+ri he ate by Pope. Warburton, “With such 
+holiness can you not do it?’; Johnson, ‘ 4 
+churchman, with such,’ &c.; Collier MS., , And 
+with such holiness you well can do it’ 3 the 
+
+
+old play ‘dote’ for ‘do it.’ 
+tions have been proposed. 
+ing is retained, 
+
+
+Many ememda- 
+If the original read- 
+it must be considered ironical. 
+
+
+nee ey “you” - Pope, * yourself.’ 
+
+Il. i “furtous’; Folio 2, ‘ too-too furi- 
+ous.” 
+
+UY Fey te ll. 47 to 49, given in Folios to 
+Gloster; corrected by Theobald 
+
+ait ‘ Medice, teipsum—’; “ Physician, 
+
+heal thyself” ; from the V ulgate (Luke iv. 23). 
+Folios read ‘ Medice teipsum’; Rowe, ‘ Medice 
+
+
+cura teipsum’; &c. omitted by Pope. 
+
+LET i. ‘To present your highness with 
+the man’; Pope reads, “ Before your highness 
+to present the man’; Capell, ‘ Come to present 
+your highness with the man, &e. 
+
+i. o1. “ Simpcox’; Pope’s 
+(Theobald conjecture) of Folios 
+Capell, ‘ Saunder.’ 
+
+II. i. 136. ‘things called whips’; Halliwell 
+and others quote from Armin’s Nest of Nin- 
+nies (1608); ‘‘ There are,. as Hamlet saies, 
+things cold whips in store’’; this cannot refer, 
+as has been supposed, to Hamlet’s ‘ whips and 
+scorns of time,’ but may well have occurred in 
+
+
+emendation 
+‘Symon’; 
+
+
+the pre-Shakespearian Hamlet. The actual 
+words are to be found in Kyd’s Spanish 
+Tragedy :— 
+
+
+“Well heaven is heaven stilli 
+And there is Nemesis, and furies, 
+And things call’d whips. cs 
+
+
+Perhaps Armin wrote ‘Hamlet’ when he meant 
+
+
+‘ Jeronimy.’ 
+
+
+OS Lier 83; “vanquished ” ; Walker, ‘ Jan- 
+guish’d’ ; Vaughan, * banish’d.’ s 
+
+EE. alta Gut” at full’; Folios 3, 4, ‘thus at 
+full’; Capell, ‘at the full’; Keightley, ‘at full 
+iength’, ‘bear a told at full.’ 
+
+0G if ‘Edmund’; Folio 1 reads ‘ Ed- 
+mond’ : Folios ZamiSwieas * Edward.’ 
+
+If. ii. 27. ‘Richard was murder’d trattor- 
+ously’; Folio 1 reads ‘ Richard . traiter- 
+
+
+Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘King Richara 
+traiterously ’ Pope, ‘King Richard 
+trait *rously was murther’d’ Dyce, ‘ was harm- 
+less Richard murder’d traitorously- 
+
+Il. ii. 28. ‘told the truth’; Hanmer reads 
+‘told the very truth’; Capell, ‘surely told 
+the truth’; Keightley, ‘told the truth in this’; 
+Marshall, ‘the Duke of York hath told the 
+truth.’ 
+
+Il. ii. 35. ‘ Philippe,’ 
+Folio 1, “Phillip”; Folios 2,035 tBs 
+Collier ee ‘ Philippa.’ 
+
+BY. ‘ane “Who kept him in cabtivity tll 
+he dares “ it was really his sonin-law, Lord 
+Grey of Ruthvyn, and not Edmund Mortimer, 
+whom, according to Hall, Owen Glendower 
+kept in captivity till he died id (Malone). 
+
+LIAS 5 Sir York claims’; Pope, ‘ York her- 
+claims’; Capell, ‘ but York claims’; Dyce, 
+while York claims’; Hudson, ‘ York doth 
+claim.’ 
+
+Tei anesinse aes emendation of 
+‘ sinne’ Folios | te 2; Folio 3. 
+
+THETA eng. speleanie * ts banishment; wel- 
+come were my death’; Pope reads ‘ Welcome 
+ts exile, &c.; Anon. conjecture ‘Welcome ts 
+banishment; welcomer my death’; Words- 
+worth, ‘Welcome is banishment; welcome were 
+teath’; ‘banishment’ is probably to be con- 
+sidered a dissyllable. 
+
+II. iii. 20. ‘I beseech 
+
+
+ously’ ; 
+
+
+Hanmer’s correction; 
+* Philip’; 
+
+
+”; Hanmer. ‘ Beseech.’ 
+
+
+1364 
+
+
+II, iii. 21. ‘ ease,’ the reading of Folios 1, 4; 
+Folios 2, 3, ‘ cease.’ 
+
+Il. iii. 29. ‘Should be to be protected like 
+a child’; Collier MS, reads ‘ Should be pro- 
+tected like a child by peers.’ ‘Should be to 
+be’ = ‘should need to be.’ 
+
+II. iii. 30. “God and King Henry govern 
+England’s realm’; omitted by Capell; ‘ Realm,’ 
+the reading of Folios; Steevens (Johnson con- 
+jectured), ‘helm’; Dyce and _ Staunton, 
+‘helm!’ In the next line Keightley proposed 
+“helm’ for ‘ realm.’ 
+
+II. iii. 32. Collier MS. inserts after 1. 32, 
+‘To think I fain would keep it makes me 
+laugh.’ 
+
+Il. iii. 35. ‘ willingly’; 
+(from Quartos). 
+
+II. iii. 46. ‘youngest’; so Folios 1, 2; Fo- 
+lios 3, 4, ‘younger’; Singer (Anon, con- 
+jectured MS.), ‘strongest’; Collier MS., 
+‘ proudest’; Staunton, ‘ haughtiest’; Kinnear, 
+‘highest. Perhaps ‘her’ may be taken to 
+refer to ‘ pride.’ 
+
+
+Pope, ‘ willing’ 
+
+
+II. iii. 55. ‘defend’; Pope, ‘‘ guard’; 
+Vaughan, ‘ feed.’ 
+
+Il. iii. 93. ‘blow’; Warburton adds, from 
+Quartos, ‘as Bevis of Southampton fell upon 
+Ascapart.’ 
+
+II. iii. 103. “Go, take hence that traitor 
+from our sight’; Hanmer, ‘Go, and take 
+
+
+hence,’ &c.; perhaps ‘traitor’ should be read 
+as a trisyllable. 
+
+II. iv. 3. ‘ Barren winter, with his wrathful 
+nitping cold’; Pope, ‘The barren winter, with 
+his nipping cold’; Capell, ‘ Bare winter with 
+
+
+his wrathful nipping cold’; Mitford; ‘ The 
+barren winter with his wrathful cold.’ 
+II. iv. 5. ‘ten’; Steevens, ‘’Tis ten 
+
+
+o’clock’; Lettsom, from Quartos, ‘’Tis almost 
+ten.’ 
+
+Il. iv. 12. ‘laughing’; so Folio 1; Folios 2, 
+3, 4, ‘still laughing’; Hudson (Lettsom conj.), 
+‘and laughing.’ 
+
+I]. iv. 25. ‘ thine enemies’; Folios 4, ‘ their 
+enemies’; Rowe, ‘ our enemies.’ 
+
+II. iv. 31. “with papers on my back’; 
+“criminals undergoing punishment usually 
+wore papers on their backs containing their 
+offence.” 
+
+
+II. iv. 87. ‘gone too?’; so Folios 2, 3, 4; 
+Folio 1, “gone to?’; Collier MS., ‘gone 
+so?’ 
+
+Ill. i, 78. ‘as is the ravenous wolf’; 
+Rowe’s correction of Folios, ‘as is Ae 
+Wolues’; Malone, ‘as are wolves’; 
+Vaughan, ‘as the ravenous wolves.’ 
+
+Ill. i. 98. ‘ Well, Suffolk, thou shalt not 
+
+
+see me blush’; the reading of Folio 1; Folios 
+4, “Well, Suffolk, yet thou,’ &c.; Ma- 
+from Quartos, ‘Well, Suffolk’s duke, 
+thou,’ &c.; Dyce (Walker conj.), ‘ Well, Suf- 
+folk, well, thou,’ &c. 
+
+Ill. i. 133. ‘easy’; Collier MS., ‘ easily’; 
+“very’; omitted by Wordsworth. 
+
+III. i. 151. ‘But mine is,” &c.; Hudson 
+(Lettsom conj.), from Quartos, reads, ‘ But I 
+am,’ &c.; ‘mine’ = ‘ my death.’ 
+
+II. i. 211. ‘ strays’; Theobald (adopting the 
+conj. Thirlby), ‘ strives’; Vaughan, ‘ strains.’ 
+
+Ill. i, 223. ‘Free lords’; Hanmer, ‘ See, 
+lords’; Dyce (Collier MS.), ‘Fair lords’; 
+Cambridge editors suggest ‘ My lords.’ 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+‘nurse’ (verb); (Collier MS. reads ‘ march’). 
+Ill. i. 357. ‘John Cade of Ashford’; Sey-— 
+mour adds, ‘ with a headlong crew.’ ie : 
+Ill. ii. 26. ‘Nell’; Theobald, ‘Well’; Ca- 
+pell, ‘Meg’; Malone, ‘ Margaret’; Clark MS., 
+“well. The playwright here, as in other 
+places (cp. below, ll. 79, 100, 120), seems, by 
+some strange error, to have thought of 
+Eleanor instead of Margaret. 
+Il. ii. 70. ‘ay me’; Pope reads ‘ah me.’ 
+Ill. ii. 78. 11. 78 to 121 struck out in 
+Collier MS. ue 
+III. ii. 79. ‘ Eleanor’; cp. supra, Note, III. 
+ii, 26. 
+
+
+ii. 80. ‘Statue and worship it’; 
+Keightley correction of Folios, “Statue, and 
+worship it’; Rowe reads ‘ statue, and do wor- 
+ship to it’; Capell, ‘ statue then, and worship 
+it’; Dyce, ‘staiua and worship it.’ 
+
+Ill. ii. 88. ‘ gentle’; Singer (Anon. MS. 
+conj. and Collier MS.) reads “ungentle ’; 
+destroying the whole point of the passage. %4 
+
+III. ii. 89. ‘he,’ i.e. AZolus, the God of the 
+winds. 
+
+Ill. ii. 100, 120. ‘ Eleanor,’ 
+ITI. ii, 26. " 
+III. ii. 147. ‘earthly’; the reading of Folio. 
+1; Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘ earthly.’ a 
+
+Ill. ii. 152. ‘ For seeing him I see my life 
+in death’; Folio 4 reads ‘For . - life ts 
+Death’; Johnson, ‘For . . death in tife’; 
+Capell, “And . . . death in life’; Rann, ‘ And 
+JMe life in death’; Vaughan, ‘ So my 
+self in death,’ . ; 
+
+III. ii. 163. ‘ being all descended; i.e. “the 
+blood being.” 
+
+III. ii. 182. ‘And both of you were vow'd 
+Duke Humphrey’s foes,’ the reading of Folio 
+
+
+cp. supra, Note, 
+
+
+Ill. i. 280. ‘spoke’; so Folios; Hanmer, 
+“ spoken.’ + 
+Ill. i. 348. ‘nourish’ (monosyllabic), = 
+
+
+1; Folio 2, ‘ were death’; Folios 3, 4, 
+“have . . death’; Capell first suggested true 
+reading. 
+
+III. ii. 192. ‘ was dead’; Vaughan, 
+or ‘was deaded,’ or ‘was ended.’ 
+
+ITI. ii. 244. {Lord Suffolk’; the reading of 
+Folios; Malone reads from Quartos, ‘ false 
+Suffolk.’ . 
+
+Ill. ii. 262. ‘ harmful’; Folios 2, 3, 4 read 
+“ harmless,’ 
+
+Ill. ii. 308. ‘enemy’; Capell (from Quar- 
+tos), ‘ enemies.’ 
+
+III. ii. 322. ‘daintiest that’; Theobald, 
+“daintiest meat’; Hanmer (from Quarto), 
+“daintiest thing’; Vaughan, ‘ daintiest cate.’ 
+
+Ill. it. 344-5. ‘That thou mightst think,’ 
+&c. ‘That by the impression of my kiss for<9 | 
+ever remaining on thy hand, thou mightest 
+think on those lips through which a thousand ~ 
+sighs will be breathed for thee” (Johnson). 
+
+III. ii. 359. ‘thence,’ away from the land; — 
+Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘ hence.’ y 
+
+III. ii. 366. ‘no joy’; Singer (Collier MS), — 
+“to joy’; ‘nought,’ Folios 3, 4, ‘ ought’ ioe 
+
+Ill. iii. 4. ‘and feel no pain’; Theobald 
+teads, from Quartos, ‘but one whole year. — 
+
+IV. i. 21, 22. “The lives of those,’ &c., so 
+Folios, with the exception of the note of ex-— 
+clamation, added by Grant White; Knight , 
+orints a note of interrogation; Nicholson, — 
+‘Shall the lives . . . sum?’; Marshall, ‘ The j 
+lives . . shall they Be conterpoised,’ &c. : 
+
+IV. i. 48. Omitted in Folios; restored by — 
+Pope (from Quartos). ‘ 
+
+IV. i. 50. In Folios this line is made part 
+of preceding speech, with ‘lowsie’ for “lowly,’ — 
+restored by Pope (from Quartos). 
+
+
+“is dead,’ 
+
+
+> | * Th 
+ol cas a He ‘ 
+’ 
+, 
+NOTES 1365 
+, oe Yes, Pole. Suf. Pole!’ Vas 29. ‘arms’; Folio 1, ‘Armes’; 
+¥. Capell from Quartos. Folios 2, 3, 4, “ Armies.’ 
+85. * mother’s bleeding,’ Rowe’s cor- Vices. 33- ‘calm’ 4,’ 5 the reading of Folio 
+rection of Folios, * Mother-bleeding.’ , 4; Folio 1, ‘ calme’; Folio 2, ‘ claimd *; Folio 
+IV. i. 117. ‘ Gelidus timor occupat artus, 1.e. | 3, “claim’d’; Beckett, * cramp’d’ Walker: 
+« chill fear seizes my limbs” 3, the reading of chased. 
+Folios 2, 3, 43 Folio 1 reads, ‘ Pine gelidus’; IVerrexn 36. te pray thee, Buckingham, go 
+res eobald, “Pene gelidus,’ &c. (cp. Zneid, vii.| and meet him’ Staunton, “Go, I pray thee, 
+ba Beer eGo Rone reads, “go and meet with 
+“WV, av. 129. Lloyd, ‘Exempt from fear is true | him’; Malone, “to go and meet him’ 
+
+
+“shila it is true, the mistress 
+esar, but not until after the birth of Brutus. 
+‘IV. i. 137, 138. ‘savage islanders Pompey 
+of s ; the story of Pompey’s death is 
+piven Plutarch; the murderers were 
+-Achillas, an Egyptian, and Septimius, who had 
+rved under him; perhaps they are described 
+as ‘islanders,’ because the murder was com- 
+nitted at Pelusium, an island-like spot in the 
+ni 2 of morasses, easternmost mouth of the 
+
+
+“Chatham ’ ; Rowe’s emendation; 
+
+
+IV. ii. 2. 
+C “ Chattam,’ 
+
+
+olio 1, ‘Chartam’; Folios 2, 3, 4, 
+
+
+TV. iii. 9, ‘a hundred lacking one’; Ma- 
+“tone, ‘ a hundred lacking one, a week,’ * from 
+uartos. In the reign of Elizabeth butchers 
+were not allowed to sell flesh-meat in Lent; 
+by special licenses, however, a limited number 
+of beasts might be killed each week. 
+IV. iv. 22. Pope, ‘ Lamenting 
+curning Suffolk’s death?’ 
+
+“Lord Say, the traitors hate 
+‘hateth’; Capell, ‘ traitor rebel 
+hateth’; Marshall, ‘the traitor Jack Cade 
+ateth sees 
+
+
+still and 
+
+
+‘thou hast caused printing to be 
+ed” i heneae was not really introduced into 
+ngland until twenty years later. 
+IV. vii. 65, 66. Cesar says in Book V. of 
+e *f Commentaries,” ‘Ex tis omnibus sunt 
+5 bie siiné itt Cantium incolunt,’ which 
+Golding rendered (1590), ‘Of all the inhab- 
+tants of this isle, the civilest are the Kentish 
+folke.’ Ninel 
+V. vii. 67. ‘because full’; Hanmer reads 
+beauteous, full’; Vaughan, ‘ bounteous, full,’ 
+
+
+© But to maintain’; (Johnson; 
+ann) ’ the reading of Folios; 
+i a ‘ Bent to m.’; Malone, ‘ Kent to m., 
+
+
+vii. ek The help of hatchet’; so Folio 
+; 3 Folios, 2, 3, 4, ‘the help of a * hatchet’; 
+Farmer, ‘pap with a hatchet,’ a singularly 
+happy emendation, &e. 
+_ TV. vii. 117. ‘Str’ James Cromer’; it was 
+liam Cromer whom Cade tohen ded. 
+
+
+*rebel’; Singer’s emendation 
+
+‘ollier MS. and Anon. MS.) of Folios, ‘ rab- 
+‘ ribald.’ 
+
+“Of gallowglasses and stout 
+
+"7 Pee sce reads, “Of desp’rate gallow- 
+
+&c.; Capell, ‘Of nimble g./ &c.; 
+
+“Of savage g.,’ &e.} “ stout’; Mitford, 
+
+; ‘kernes’; Keightley, ‘kernes, 
+
+
+Dteevens (1793), ‘go forth and meet him’; 
+Collier. (Collier MS.), ‘ then go and meet him’; 
+Dyce, ‘ go thou and meet him.’ 
+hae ae ‘ Fie on ambition’; 
+Folios; Folio A “ Ambitions." 
+
+IV. x. 46. ‘ That Alexander Iden, an esquire 
+of Kent’; Capell, ‘’squir’; Marshall omits 
+“an, following Hall. 
+
+IV. x. 56. “As for words, whose greatness 
+answers words’; Rowe reads, ‘As for more 
+words, &c.; Mason, ‘As for mere words, 
+&c.; Dyce (Anon. conj.), ‘But as for words, 
+&e., &e. 
+
+Te Rie Gaa ‘God’; 
+(from Quartos) of ‘ Joue’ 
+
+
+so the later 
+
+
+Malone’s_ correction 
+of the Folios. 
+
+
+IV. x. 84. ‘And as I thrust thy body in 
+with my sword’; Dyce Gileva conj.), omits 
+in.’ 
+
+be Te “ Alexander Iden, ‘that’ Ss my name’ AB 
+Capell, My name is Alexander Iden, sir’ 
+Hanmer, ‘ Ev’n Alexander,’ &c.; Edd., Tay, 
+Alexander Iden, &c.; Keightley, « Alexander 
+
+
+Iden, that’s my name, my lege,’ &c. 
+
+V. i. 78. ‘Iden, kneel down. Rise up a 
+knight’; Hanmer reads, “Iden kneel down; 
+and rise thou up a knight’; Dyce (Lettsom 
+
+
+conj.), ‘Iden, kneel down. Iden, rise up a 
+knight ’ ; Vaughan, ‘Iden, kneel down; and 
+now rise up Sir Alexander.’ 
+sis 05s daneste ; monosyllabic; Folio 1, 
+‘ dar’st’; Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘ durst.’ 
+V. i. 109. ‘ these’; Theobald’s correction of 
+“thee’ of the Folios. 
+
+
+V. i. 130. ‘ mistakest’; so Folios 2, 3, 4; 
+Folio 1, ‘ mistakes.’ 
+
+V. i. 146. ‘ fell-lurking’; Roderick, ‘ fell- 
+barking * ; Hudson (Heath conj.), ‘ fell-lurch- 
+ing’ Collier (Collier MS.), ‘ fell-looking’; 
+Capell, “fell lurking,’ 
+
+. i. 70. ‘shame’; Dyce (Walker conj.), 
+* stain.’ 
+
+Ve isons, ‘victorious ’; so Folio 1; Folios 
+2,3, 4, read * victorious noble.’ 
+
+V. ii. 28. ‘La fin couronne les @uvres’; t.e. 
+‘the end crowns the work’; Folio 1 reads, 
+“Corrone les eumenes ’; Folios 25). 3554), Cor 
+
+
+ronne ee oevres.” 
+
+Ne “Knit earth and heaven together’; 
+Vaughan adds ‘in one blase.’ 
+
+VY at “So, lie thou there’; Malone sup- 
+poses maby a line has been omitted here, equiv- 
+
+
+alent to ‘Behold the prophecy is come to 
+pass’; Vaughan conjecture adds ‘ fulfilling 
+prophecy. 
+
+Vievals ‘parts’ ; ; Hanmer reads ‘ powers’; 
+Wotkirtck: “party *; Collier MS., ‘ frends’; 
+Dyce (Walker conj. ), * part.’ 
+
+Vials 244 Of ce Collier MS. (from Quartos), 
+‘Old,’ ae by Dyce. 
+
+VV. iii. “faith’; _ Malone’s correction 
+
+
+(from Gusting Folins, “ hand.’ 
+
+
+1366 NOTES 
+M 2 : 
+The Third Part of King Henry VI.—Notes 
+I. i. 11. ‘ dangerously,’ Theobald’s correction I. ii. go. ‘Lord Cobham’; Hanmer, ‘ Lord 
+(from ae Folios, ‘ dangerous.’ _ | of Cobham,’ k : ; oe 
+E i, “But, is your grace ’ ; Pope, ‘Is his I. iii. 48. ‘Di factant laudis summa sit ista 
+grace’  Capell, “Is your grace’ ; Malone (from | tu@’; i.e. “The gods grant that this be the 
+Quartos), “What, is your grace’ Steevens, | sum of thy glory’; (Ovid, Epistle from Phillis 
+“What, ’s our grace’; Lettsom, *« What, Is | to Demophoon). 
+your spate, . iv. 109. ‘sake’; Capell (from Quartos), 
+| ee : ork Bee ; Capell, ‘end’; Dyce (Anon. | “ death.’ 
+conj. ), I iv. (156- re moves’ ; Folios 2, 354 
+Pes B ae “ thrust you out perforce ’; Rowe, | “ passions move Folio i; “ passions moues.” 
+“ thrust you out by force’; Capell (from I. iv. 152, 153. * That face of his the hungry 
+Quartos), ‘ put us out by force.’ cannibals Would | not have touch’d, would not 
+i. 36. ‘ council’ Pope’s emendation of have stain’d with blood’; Warburton’s ar- 
+Folios 1, 2, © counsaile’ ; Folio 3, ‘counsell’;| rangement (from Quartos); printed as three 
+Folio 4 “ counsel,’ lines in Folios, ending ‘his . . £oucht ae 
+Peat. And bashful Henry deposed, whose blood.’ For ‘with blood’ Folios 2, 3, 4 reads 
+eiaiiive * ; Quartos, ‘ be deposde’; as the line| ‘the roses just with blood ’ Theobald, ‘ the 
+stands in the Folios ‘Henry’ must be either | roses Juic *d with bland’ ; Hanmer, “the roses 
+aes or monosyllabic. just t th’ bud’; Collier MS., “the rose’s hues 
+i. “You both have vow'd’ ; Folio 4,| with blood.’ 
+“you ee both vow'd’; Pope, ‘you vow'd’; I. iv. 169. ‘to all’; Capell (from Quartos), 
+Collier MS., ‘ you have vow’d’; Coilier con- |‘ of all.’ 
+jectured ‘both have vow'’d’; Vaughan con- L535: ,20- “ Methinks, tis prize enough to be 
+ety ae you both vow'd’ his son” ; so Folios; Warburton (from Quar- 
+ie ‘ favourites ” ; Capell, “ faz ourers.” tos), “pride? 
+T. a “poltroons, such as he’ irs 5 i, 113. Omitted in Folios, added by 
+eee cee such as he’; Folios Bee ‘ Poul-| Steevens (from Quartos). 
+troones, and such is he’; Folio 4, Sllsedoo ns. II. i, 131. ‘idle,’ Capell’s emendation (from 
+and such is he »: Capell, ‘ poltroons, and such | Quartos) of Folios, ‘/azy.’ FE: 
+as he.’ Il. i. 146. ‘ Your kind aunt, Duchess of 
+et. ‘ Far be the thought of this from Burgundy,’ i.e. Isabel, daughter of John I.. 
+
+
+Heavy’ epee Capell (from Quartos), ° Far 
+be it rg the thoughts, of Henry’ s heart.’ 
+
+i. 76. ‘I am thine’; Rowe, ‘ Henry, I am 
+thine? 5 Theobald (from Quartos), *Thou ’rt 
+deceiv’d, I’ m thine.’ 
+
+I. i. 78. ‘The earldom was, i.e. the earldom 
+of March, by which he claimed the throne; 
+
+
+pbeobald (from Ouartos), “The kingdom is.’ 
+
+Tey os. and that’s.’ the reading of Folios 
+
+- 3 re Folio tr. ‘that’s’ ; Quartos, ‘and that 
+: Collier, ‘ that is.’ 
+
+
+ve i. 105. ‘Thy father’; ‘Thy,’ Rowe’s cor- 
+rection (from Quartos) of Folios, ‘My’; ‘ fa- 
+ther’; Capell conjectured ‘ uncle.’ 
+
+I. i. 144. ‘his crown’; Johnson, ‘his son’; 
+Dr. Percy pointed out that Richard II, had 
+no son; Capell (from Quartos), ‘the crown’ 
+Vaughan, ‘his line’; Wordsworth, ‘the 
+throne.’ . 
+
+I. i. 171. ‘for this my life-time reign as 
+king,’ the reading of Folio 1; Folios 2, 3, 4, 
+“for this time,” &c.; Theobald (from Quartos), 
+“but reign in quiet, while I live.’ 
+
+I. i. 261. ‘ from.’ the reading of Folios 2, 3, 
+4, and Quartos; Folio Ey tOe 
+
+T. i. 268. “cost,” so Folios; Hanmer, ‘ truss’; 
+Warburton, “coast.” t.e. “watch and follow, or 
+hover round ’ Steevens, “coté’; Jackson, 
+
+“ court’ : Dyce, ‘ souse.’ Warburton’s emenda- 
+tion is generally adopted by modern editors. 
+
+J. ii. 16. ‘any’; Dyce, ‘ an.’ (?) “But for 
+a kingdom may an oath be broken.’ 
+
+? . ii. 38. ‘shalt to the Duke of Norfolk’; 
+the reading of Folios 1, 2, 3; Folio 4, ‘ shalt 
+be D. of N.’; Rowe, ‘shall go to the D. of 
+Nae mibopesss, shat, ‘to th’ iD," of at foek: 
+Steevens, ‘shalt unto the D. of N.’; Vaughan, 
+
+* shalt straight tr the D. of N.’ 
+
+
+King of Portugal, by Philippa of Lancaster, 
+eldest daughter of John of Gaunt; she was, 
+therefore, really third cousin to Edward, and 
+not aunt. 
+
+
+ITI. yh 182. ‘to London will we march 
+amain’” Theobald’s emendation (from Quar- 
+tos); Folios read ‘to London will we march’; 
+Hanmer, “ straight to London will we march. 
+
+Lig, ie noo: “ fail’ st’; Steevens, ‘ fall’st’; 
+Quartos, ‘ faints.’ 
+
+Il. ii. 47-48. cp. Greene’s Royal Exchange: 
+
+
+—‘“It hath been an old proverb, that happy 
+= that son whose father goes to the devii,’* 
+rc. 
+
+II. ii. 147. ‘ Although thy husband may be 
+Menelaus,’ cp. Troilus and Cressida, V. i. 61, 
+where Thersites calls Menelaus “ the primitive 
+statue and oblique memorial of cuckolds.’” 
+
+
+II. ii. 172. ‘ deniest,’ Warburton’s correction” 
+(from Quartos) ; Folios 1, 2, ‘ denied’st’; Fo 
+lios_3, 4, “deni'dst.’ 
+
+II. ii. 177. ‘these’; Capell (from Quartos), 
+“thy 
+
+Il. iii. 37. ‘Thou setter up and plucker 
+
+
+down of kings’; cp. Daniel ii. 21, “He re 
+
+
+moveth kings | and setteth up kings.” 
+
+
+Ti. ik 43. fin earth ’ ; the reading of Folios 
+Ip, 23) FOlOS 3; 4, “47 the earth’; Pope, ‘on 
+earth.’ 
+
+Il. iii, “all together,’ Rowe’s emendation 
+of Folios, albobether. 
+
+Tie sii. 530“ wear’; Collier MS., ‘wore '; 
+Collier (ed. 2), “ware.” 
+
+TT. v. 26. ‘ make’ ;, Folios, “makes. 
+
+IT. v. 38. ‘months’; ; Rowe, ‘ weeks, months,’ 
+
+II. v. 60. ‘as this dead’ man doth me? sm 
+Hanmer, ‘as this dead man to me’ ; Wordeal 
+worth, ‘as this dead doth to me.’ 1 
+
+
+; NOTES 
+
+
+1367 
+
+
+II. v. 80. ‘ hast,” the reading of Folios 3, 4; 
+
+
+Folios 1, 2, ‘ hath. 
+
+II. v. 87. ‘ kill,’ Rowe’s correction of Fo- 
+lios, ‘ kills.’ 
+
+II. v. 92, 93. “O boy, thy father gave thee 
+
+
+life too soon, And hath bereft thee of thy life 
+too late;’ much has been written on these 
+lines, the difficulty being in the words ‘too 
+late’; the simplest meaning of the phrase 
+seems to be ‘when too late’; others explain 
+“too late’. ‘too recently.” The Quartos 
+read ‘ too late’ in the first line, and ‘too soon’ 
+in the second. 
+
+The force of the crude couplet seems to be: 
+—O boy, too soon thy father gave thee life 
+(better thou had’st never been born!); too late 
+he discovers that the fatal blow was aimed at 
+
+
+. ‘Even, Capell’s emendation; Fo- 
+
+‘Men’; Folio 4, ‘Man’; Rowe, 
+
+‘Mere’; Delius (Mitford 
+Collier MS., “E’en’; Keight- 
+ley conjectured, ‘’Fore men’ or ‘To men’; 
+Anonymous conjecture, “ Main,’ &e. 
+
+RES yi: 6. “And, now I fall, thy tough com- 
+mixture melts, Rowe’s reading; Folios, ‘ fall. 
+._ Thy’; Rann, * Fall, that’; Johnson conjectured 
+‘fall, the’; ‘commixture melts,’ Steevens’ 
+correction (from Quartos); Folio 1, ‘Com- 
+mixtures melt; Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘ Commixtures 
+
+
+conj.), 
+
+
+8. Omitted in Folios. Restored by 
+Theobald (from Quartos). 
+
+iI. vi. 17. Omitted by Capell, 
+Quartos. 
+
+II vi. 42, 45. The assignment to the speak- 
+ers is due to Capell, following Quartos, which 
+here are more correct than Folios. 
+
+Il. vi. 80. ‘If this right hand would buy 
+two hours’ life’; Capell (from Quartos), 
+“would this right hand buy but an hour’s life’; 
+
+
+following 
+
+
+Folio 1, ‘two hours’’; Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘ but two 
+hours’? 
+II. vi. 82. “ This hand should’; Capell (from 
+
+
+‘in thy shoulder’ ; so Folio 1; 
+Folios 2, 3, be “on thy s. 
+
+Ill. i. ‘ Enter two keepers’; Folios, ‘ Enter 
+Sinklo and Humfrey’; ‘‘as Sinklo is certainly 
+the name of an Actor ’who is mentioned in the 
+stage directions in the Taming of the Shrew 
+(Ind. i. 86), and in Henry IV., Part II. (Act 
+v. Se. 4), there is a great probability that 
+Humphrey is the name of another Actor; per- 
+haps, as Malone suggests, Humfrey Jeaffes. 
+Neither of these is mentioned in the list of 
+
+
+*Principall Actors’ prefixed to the first 
+Folio ” sae, Editors). 
+TET. ‘Enter King Henry, disguised, 
+
+
+with a Sh Rs book,’ Malone’s emendation; 
+Folios, ‘ Enter the King with a Prayer booke’; 
+Collier MS. adds, ‘ disguised as a Churchman’; 
+Capell (from Quartos), ‘Enter King Henrie 
+‘disguisde.’ 
+
+Ill. i. 14. ‘To greet mine own land with my 
+wishful sight’; Rann (from Quartos), ‘ and 
+thus disguis’d to greet my native land.’ 3 
+
+JIl. i. 17. ‘ wast,’ the reading of Folios 3, 
+4; Folios 1, 2, ‘ was.’ 
+
+i, 24. ‘ thee, 
+emendation: Folios, 
+
+
+sour adversity’; Dyce’s 
+“the sower Adversaries’ ; 
+Pope, “ these sour adversities’; Clarke’s Con- 
+cordance, ‘these sour Taper euée” Delius, 
+the sour adversities.’ 
+
+&e.; 
+
+
+THT. i. 55. ‘thou that talk’st, Rowe’s 
+
+
+&e.- 
+‘thou talk- 
+
+
+emendation; Quartos, 
+Folios, ‘ thou talk’st,’ 
+est,’ &c. 
+
+III. i. 60. ‘and that’s enough’; Rann (from 
+Quarto), ‘though not in shew.’ 
+
+Ill. i. 97. ‘We charge you, 
+and the king’s’; ‘ You’; Anonymous conjec- 
+ture ‘you now’ or ‘you then’; ‘and the 
+king’s’ ; Rowe, “and in the king’s.’ 
+
+Ill. ii. 2. ‘ Richard’; the reading of Fohkos 
+and mente Pope (from Hail), ‘ John.’ 
+
+PTT ‘lands’ ; Capell’ s correction (from 
+Quartos) ; “Folios, * land.’ 
+
+Ill. ii. 6-7. ‘In quarrel of the house of 
+York,’ &c.; but in reality Sir John Grey fet 
+in the second battle of St. Albans, fighting 
+on the side of King Henry. 
+
+PETsr aes 2s “then ”; Quartos, ‘ thes.’ 
+
+TOW Rat atofehs “twas for shift’; So Folios x, 
+2; Folio 3 reads, ‘’twas for a shift’; Folio 4 
+“at. was fora shift? 
+
+Ill. ii. rie ‘very sad”; so Folio 1; Folios 
+sad. 
+
+TI. ii. r19. ‘your prisoner’; the reading of 
+Folios, Capell (from Quartos), ‘as prisoner’; 
+Id. conj. ‘a prisoner.’ 
+
+III, ii: 143. ‘ Flattering me with 
+bilities’; Pope, , Flatt’ring my mind writh 
+things impossible ’ ; (me = “ myself’). 
+
+LUGS oth MatNs, © shrub? y Quartos, ‘ shrimpe.’ 
+
+Ill. ii. 170. ‘ Until my mis-shaped trunk that 
+bears this head’; the reading of Folios 1, 2; 
+Folios 3, 4, ‘ Until this : head ’; Pope, 
+“Until the head’ ; Thirlby, * Until the 
+head of this mis- -shapen trunk’; Hanmet, 
+“Until the head this mis-shap’d ‘rsdn doth 
+bear, &c. 
+
+III. ii. 193. ‘the murderous Machiavel’,; 
+Warburton (from Quartos), ‘ th’ aspiring Cati- 
+
+
+“thou that talkes,’ 
+&c.; Collier, 
+
+
+in God’s name. 
+
+
+Imposst 
+
+
+line’; Folios 1, 2, ‘ Macheuill’; Folio 4, 
+© Matchevil.’ 
+
+III, iii. 3. “while Lewts doth sit’; Rowe 
+“whiles Lewis sits’; Pope, ‘ while Lewis sits. 
+
+Jil. iii. 11. ‘seat?; Walker conjectured 
+“ state.’ 
+
+Pie iii. 42. ‘waiteth on true sorrow * 3; War- 
+burton, ‘ waiting rues tesmorrow.’ 
+
+III. iii. 45. ‘Our’; Collier MS., ‘The’; 
+Vaughan conjectured * ‘Proud.’ 
+
+ML iii 7 5: ‘thy’ . Johnson, ‘ thee,” i 
+
+III. iii. 96. “thirty and six years’ ; Quartos, 
+‘ thirfte and eight’; the correct number accord 
+ing to Malone. 
+
+Ill. iii, 1r2q. ‘an eternal plant’; Warbur- 
+ton’s emendation (from Quartos) ; Folios read 
+
+
+“an externall p.’; 
+Ill. iti. 127, 
+from disdain’; 
+hatred, altho’ 
+dain. 
+10 
+per’d! 
+TII. iti. 156. 
+of Folios.2, 3, 4; Folio 1, 
+Tilietit., 228; 
+Folios read ‘ J.’ 
+III. iti. 233, 234. ‘ But, Warwick, 
+Oxford, with five thousand men’; 
+‘ But, Warwick, Thyself and . 
+Hanmer, “But Warwick, thou Thyself ané 
+A men?” Steevens, “But, Warwick, thou 
+And... 3%: men’; Collier MS., “But, Warwick. 
+thou And . , warlike men’; Keightley, ‘ Buty 
+Warwick, Thou and Lord. .°. men’; Anon. 
+conjectured ‘ Bui, Warwick, thou And . . ., 
+
+
+; Hanmer, ‘a perennial p’ 
+‘ Exempt from envy, but nor 
+i.e. not liable to malice or 
+not secured from female dis 
+iii. 133. ‘tempted’; Vaughan, ‘ tem 
+“Warwick, peace’; the reading 
+© Warwick.’ 
+
+‘T’ll,’ Capell (from Quartos); 
+
+
+Thou and 
+Theobala 
+men? 
+
+
+1368 
+
+
+men of mine.’ Perhaps, as an anonymous 
+scholar has suggested, the line should be read 
+as an Alexandrine. 
+
+HI. iti. 242. ‘Mine eldest daughter’; the 
+reading of Folios (following Quarto); Theo- 
+bald (from Holinshed), ‘my younger d.’ It 
+was, however, Anne, Warwick’s second daugh- 
+
+
+ter, whom Edward married. 
+
+TIT: iii. 253 * Shalt,’ the reading of Folios 
+Buty 043 Folio Ty, © Shall.’ 
+
+TV. \& “our? ; Capel, “ your.’ 
+
+IV. i. “And shall’ Rowe, ‘And you 
+shall ’ ; Walker, ‘ Ay, and. shall, or ‘ Marry, 
+and shall : 
+
+BV.-1: “But the safer’; Folios 2, 3, 4, 
+
+
+“¥es, but the safer’; S. Walker conjectured 
+“But then the safer’; Keightley, “ Ay, but the 
+safer’; Anon. conjectured ‘ But yet the safer’; 
+
+
+Vaughan, ‘ But all the safer’; ; Folio 2, ‘ safter.’ 
+
+IV. 1. 42. ‘ using’; Vaughan, ‘ losing.’ 
+
+PV ‘ brother’s’; Rowe’s emendation of 
+Folios, ‘ Brothers’; Anon. conjectured ‘ broth- 
+ers. . 
+
+IV. & 73,. 74. disithe’ a ‘Doth *; Folios, 
+‘ dislikes. . Doth’; Rowe, ‘ dislikes . . 
+Do. ‘ 
+
+V. i. 895. 90. ‘ therefore, in brief, Tell me’; 
+Folio 1, °‘ Therefore, in briefe, tell me’; 
+Folios 32,° 3, 4, ‘ Therefore, in briefe, tell’; 
+Pope, ‘So tell’ 
+
+LV. i, 93. J thy 2; Rowe (from Quartos); 
+Folios, ‘ the.’ 
+
+ZV. to rr8. ‘elder .- . . younger’; Folios 
+éfrom, Qiiartos); Theobald, ‘younger .. 
+etder.’ ~ : 
+
+[V. i. 126. ‘the love’; Pope, ‘ love.’ 
+
+[V. i. 128. ‘Yet am I arm’d’; Vaughan, 
+“Vet am T warn'd/ 
+
+EV. in 12. ‘ Sweet Clarence’; Pope, ‘ friend’; 
+Capell,.* Clarence.” Many modern editions omit 
+* but.” 
+
+IVY dias ‘towns’; Theobald (Thirlby 
+conj.);. Folios, ‘ town.’ 
+
+‘EV. it. 2r. It had-beerm prophesied that if the 
+
+
+horses of the Thracian Rhesus drank of the 
+Manthus and grazed en the Trojan plains, the 
+Greeks would never take Trey. | Wherefore 
+Diomede and Ulysses killed him. at night, and 
+
+
+earried off his horses. Vide Ihad, x.; Ovid, 
+Metamorphoses, xiii, ‘98-108, 249:252; Virgil, 
+fEmeid, i. eed 473 
+
+AV. iii, “keeps ?; ; sd Folios 3) 43 Folios 
+Lae be copes” Fe Theobald “ keepeth’; , Hanmer, 
+‘keeps here’; Vaughan, ‘ keeps out’ ; Keight- 
+léy, ° field here.” 
+
+STV ata ngs “more dangerous ’; > so Folios 1, 
+2; Folids 3,. 4, ‘the more d.’; Hanmer, © dan- 
+gerous.” 
+
+~ EV. Atti, qr. ‘Yea, brother of Clarence, art 
+
+
+“Brother of C., and 
+“Yea, brother of 
+
+
+thou here too?’; Pope, 
+art thou here too?’; Capell, 
+C., and art thou here too?’ 
+
+EV. iii. 55. ‘tell what answer’; Pope, ‘ tell 
+you what reply’; Capell. ‘ tell his grace what 
+answer’; Keightley, ‘fell him what answer’; 
+Anon. conjectured ‘ tell the duke what answer’ ; 
+
+
+Dyce, ‘tell him there what answer.’ 
+
+“TV. iv. 11. ‘new committed’; Rowe, ‘now 
+comnutted.’ 
+
+» TV. iv. 19. ‘ts it that makes me bridle pas- 
+sion’; the reading of Folio 1; Folios 2, 3, 
+PRS SES i my passion’; Folio 4, ‘is... 
+my passion’; , Rowe, ‘is ith. . . in my pas- 
+sion Pope, UaStGh , in my. passion’; 
+Vaughan, ‘is it, makes... . passion’ 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+| yectured 
+
+
+er conjectured ‘ 
+
+
+Lord — 
+
+
+LM: penis GG: brother of Gloucester, 
+Hastings’ ; Pope, “brother Glo’ster, Hastings’ ; = 
+Collier MS., ‘ brother of Gloster, Hastings.’ 
+
+IV. vy. 21. ‘ Flanders’; : Vaughan suggests the 
+addition of the words, ‘ as gn guess.” cate 
+
+BV. vi. 55.‘ be contiscate ’ ; ; Malone’s emenda- 
+tion, Folio 1, ‘ confiscate’ ; Folios 2,35 4) COBe 
+fiscated.’ ‘ 
+
+IV. vii. 8. Ravenspurgh, the name of a sea- 
+
+
+port in Yorkshire; the reading of Folios 2, 3, — 
+
+
+4; Folio =x, “ Rauenspurre? ; Quarto 1, Be ‘ 
+* Raunspur’; ‘ Ravenspurgh haven before’; 
+Bae omits ‘haven’; Steevens conjectured ‘ 
+‘ fore’ 
+
+IV. vii. 30. ‘A wise stout captain, and soon 
+persuaded’; ‘ captain’ probably trisyllabic; 
+Keightly, ni, faith, a wise Collier MS. | 
+‘ captain he’ Delius (Lettsom conj. ys capi- 
+tain’ Cartwright, * captain, faith’ ; Pope, * Rer- 
+suaded soon. ‘ 
+
+IV. vii. 57. ‘ shall’; Capell (from Qudriesi at 
+« should.’ 5 
+
+IV. viii. In the Folios, Somerset is name@ 
+
+
+in the stage direction, though he had gone with — 
+young Richmond into Brittany. The mistake 
+arose, as the Cambridge Eds. point out, from 
+the Quartos, in which Scenes vi. and viii. form~ 
+
+
+but one. A Se 
+EV.‘ vit. hy 4 hasty Germans’; S. Walker, © 
+
+“ lusty’ ; Cartwright, “hardy. ; 
+IV. Wu 43: “ water- flowing tears’; Capelli, 
+
+* water-flowin es eyes” Collier MS.,. * bitter- — 
+flowing tears’ Vaueher: ‘ wet 0’ erflowing i 
+tears.’ é . 
+
+IV. viii. 61. ‘hoped-for hay’; Quartos, ‘ hepe — 
+for haie’ ; Malone proposed, altogether unneces- 
+
+
+sarily, te change the words to ‘ hope for aye.” 
+
+
+Wa * Daintry,’ popular pronunciation of. ‘ 
+Daventsy. 4 
+
+Vie ik om had’; Pope, ‘ I ’d? 
+
+Vv. Fy ‘ Two of thy name, both Dukes ana 
+Suinouser? “Edmund slain at battle of St. 
+
+
+Alban’s, 14553 and Henry, his son, beheaded - 
+after the battle of Hexham, 1463 n (Ritson). — 
+Mita, 78: “whom an? - Rowe's emendation ; q 
+Folios 25 3, 4, ‘ whom, an? } WRolienz, “whom, 
+mm. 
+Vile. 86. * That Clarence is’; Steevens con 
+“ Clarence, so. harsh, so blunt’; 4 
+so harsh’ (so blunt omitted) Col. 
+so harsh, so blind’; ; Mitford, 
+or ‘so blunt’; S. Walker, “blunt- | 
+
+
+; Anon. conjectured ‘ brute-unnatu- 
+
+
+‘ Jephthah's’ ; Rowe, ‘ Jepthah’s sp 
+Folios 1, as “Iephah’; : Folios 3y 451° Jepthah2~~ © 
+We igs!) 44e “clamour,’ Warburton’s Headline 
+from Quartos; Folios, “cannon.” rie 
+V. nl. 47-49. The arrangement of the lines 
+in the Quartos; they form three lines in — 
+Folios, and have been variously anvartec) by — 
+
+editors. 
+
+V. iii. 5. ‘onr glorious sun,’ 
+cognizance of Edward. 
+WV. iv. a The 
+shrouds and tacklings’; 
+
+our, or ‘ These 
+
+
+QOuartos, ‘ 
+
+
+“so harsh?’ 
+unnatural’; 
+ral V4 
+
+Metat 
+
+
+alluding to ined 
+
+
+friends of France our 
+Tae Walker, * Ouni tae 
+our,’ &e.; Cartwright 4 
+* Ounis . a ther &e.; Pope, “tacklings still’; 
+Johnson, “ tackling still’; ‘tacklings’ is evi- 
+dently trisyllabic in this passage. > = 
+
+
+Viiv. 75. ‘mine eves. j Capell (fro 
+Quartos) ; Folios “my ene.” 7 
+Viv. 1. ‘Now here’ jothe reading of Folio 
+
+
+1; Foiios 2, 3) 4s ‘Now here’s’ 
+
+
+3 Capell (from 
+Quartos), ‘Lo,. here.’ : 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+1369 
+
+
+‘YV, vy. 2. “Hames’; the reading of Quartos 
+ind Folios.; ‘Ham’ in Picardy; Rowe reads 
+‘Hammes’; Hanmer, ‘Holmes’;  Capell, 
+* Hammes’’; Delius, ‘ Ham’s.’ . 
+_ V. v. 38, ‘thou’; Rowe (from Quarto 3); 
+Folios (Quartos 1, 2), ‘ the.’ 
+_ V. v. 50. ‘The Tower, the Tower’; Capell’s 
+teading; Folios, ‘Tower, the Tower’; Theo- 
+bald (from Quartos), ‘The Tower, man, the 
+Tower!—I ll root ’em out’; Steevens, ‘ The 
+Tower, man, Tower!’ 
+_ Y. v. 77, 78. Steevens’ reading, which is 
+nearest to eekoes Folio 1, ‘Where is that 
+devil’s butcher, Richard? Hard favor’d Rich- 
+ard, &c. 
+SeVewava ao. fool”; 
+ge (from Quartos), ‘ fowl.’ 
+WV. v. 41. “Men for their sons, wives for 
+their husbands’; Anon. conjectured (from 
+_ Quartos), ‘Wives for their husbands, fathers 
+_ for their sons’; Folio 1, ‘sonnes, . . . hus- 
+bands’; Folio 2, ‘sonnes, . » + husbands 
+
+
+e 
+
+
+Seymour conjectured 
+
+
+e 
+
+
+TD. i. 2. ‘Sun of York’; probably an allusion 
+to the device of a sun, the cognizance of Ed- 
+any ward IV. Quartos, “‘sonne’; Folios, ‘Son’; 
+Rowe, ‘ sun.’ ' b 
+I. i. 15. ‘to court an amorous looking-glass’ ; 
+Vaughan thought the line might be improved 
+by a slight emendation:—‘ an amorous looking 
+
+
+Bry ass” CY): 2 
+
+- . I, i. 26. “spy’*;+so Quartos; Folios, ‘ see.’ 
+Paina I. i. 61. ‘have’; so Quartos and Folio 4; 
+_ Folios 1, 2, 3, ‘hath.’ 
+
+
+I. i. 65, “That tempers him to this extrem- 
+ity 7; so Quarto 1; Quartos 2-8 read, ‘ That 
+tempts him,’ &e. (Quarto 3, ‘ tempts’); Folios 
+
+
+read, ‘That tempts him to this harsh extrem- 
+. “That tempts him 
+
+
+- Quartos; Folios read, ‘to wolves, to spiders.’ 
+Seed. 11-60, 61. Thy deed . . Provokes’; so 
+
+
+‘Quartos; Folios 1, 2, 3, ‘ Deeds Pro- 
+_wokes’; Folio 4, ‘deeds . . Provoke.’ 
+
+I. ii. 76. ‘evils’; so Quartos; Folios, 
+“ crimes.’ 
+
+
+the reading of Quartos; Folios read, ‘ Then 
+_ say they were not slaine.’ 
+
+iT. ii, 127. ‘These eyes could never endure 
+sweet beauty’s wreck’; Quartos, ‘never’; 
+Folios read, ‘not’; Quartos, ‘ sweet’; Folios, 
+
+
+fate’; Folios 3, 4, ‘sous:... . 
+Warburton, ‘sons . . husbands fate’; 
+Knight, ‘sons’ . . husbands,’ &c. 
+
+V. vi. 45. ‘ boding luckless time’; Quartes, 
+‘aboding . . . tune’; Theobald, ‘a hoding 
+tune.” 
+
+V. vi. 48. ‘ discords’; 
+Quartos), ‘ discord,’ 
+
+V. vi. 51. ‘To wit, an indigested and de- 
+formed lump’; Capell (from Quartos), ‘ to mot 
+an indigest deformed lump’; Dyce (Capell 
+conj.) omits ‘/o wit.’ ; 
+
+V. vi. 79. After this line, Theobald inserts 
+from Quartos, “J had no father, I am like no 
+father.’ 
+
+V. vii. 30. The Camb. editor quotes from 
+Steevens:—‘‘ In my copy of the second Foheo, 
+which had belonged to King Charles the First, 
+his Majesty has erased Cla. and written King 
+in its stead. Shakespeare, therefore, in the 
+catalogue of his restorers, may boast a- Rowat 
+name,” . 
+
+
+husbands fate 3 
+
+
+Grant White (from 
+
+
+The Tragedy of King Richard III.—Notes 
+
+
+1, 2, “yt?; Folios 3, 4, ‘ that’; ‘ wreck,’ Theo- 
+hald’s emendation of ‘ wrack’ of Quartos and 
+Folios. 
+
+I. ii. 135. ‘you’; Folios, * thee.’ 
+
+I ii. 147. ‘Never hung poison on a fouier 
+toad’; alluding to the old belief that teads 
+were venomous. 
+
+I. ii. 156, 167. Omitted in Quartos. 
+
+
+I. ii. 180. ‘for I did kill King Henry’; 
+Quartos read, “twas I’ that kild your hus- 
+band.’ 
+
+I. ii, 182. ‘’twas I that stabb’d young Ed- 
+
+
+ward’; Quartos read, ‘twas J that kild Kine 
+Henry.’ 
+
+I. ii. 186. ‘ the’; Folios, ‘ thy’ 
+
+I. ii. 203. Omitted in Folios. 
+
+I. ii. 207. ‘ devoted suppliant’; so Quarte i; 
+Folios read, ‘ devoted seruant’; the rest, * sup- 
+tliant.’ 
+
+I, ii. 211. ‘would,’ the reading of Quartos: 
+
+
+Folios, “may’; ‘thee,’ so Quartos; Folios, 
+you. 
+I. ii, 112. ‘more’; so Quartos; Folics, 
+“most.” : 
+I. ii. 226. ‘Sirs, take up the corse’; 
+omitted in Folios. 4 
+TL ii. 228 :— 
+
+
+“ Was ever woman in this humour wood? 
+Was ever woman in this humour won? ” 
+cp. “ She is a woman, therefore may be woo'd; 
+She is a woman, therefore may be won.” 
+
+Titus And., II, i. 82, 83. 
+
+
+“ She’s beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd: 
+She 1s a woman, there‘ore to be won." 
+1 Henry V1., V. iti. 77, 78, 
+
+
+I. ii. 236. ‘nothing’; so Quartos; Folios, 
+“no Friends.’ 
+
+I. iii. 5. ‘words’; so Quartos; Folios read 
+“ eyes.’ 
+
+I. iii. 7. ‘harm’; Folios 1, 2, 3, ‘harmes.” 
+
+I. iii, rz. “ Here come.the lords’; so Quartos 
+t, 2; Quartos 3-8, “Here comes the Lords’; 
+
+
+1370 
+
+
+NOTES wee 
+
+
+RKoglios, ‘Here comes the Lord’; Theobald al- 
+tered ‘ Derby’ to ‘ Stanley,’ as Thomas, Lord 
+Stanley, was not created Earl of Derby till 
+after the accession of Henry VII. 
+
+I. tii. 36. ‘Maddam, we dia’; Folios 1, 2, 3, 
+oe (te. Aye) Madam’; Quartos, ‘ Madame we 
+did. 
+
+
+I. iti. 43. ‘who are they that complain’; the 
+reading of Quartos; Folios read, ‘who is it that 
+complaines.’ ; 
+2h aii. 58, 
+“GPrace.’ 
+
+I. iii. 67. ‘kindred’; so Quartos 1, 6, 7, 8; 
+Quartos 2, 2, 4, 5, read ‘kinred’; Folios, 
+‘children,’ 
+
+L. iii. 68, 69. ‘ Makes him to send; that thereby 
+ke may gather The ground of your ill-will, 
+and. to remove it,’ the reading of Quartos 1-6. 
+(narto 6, ‘ grounds’); Folios read, ‘ Makes 
+tim to send, that he may learn the ground ’ ;? 
+Pope, ‘“ Makes him to send that he may learn 
+the ground Of your ill-will, and thereby to 
+remove it”; Capell, ‘‘ Hath sent fot you; that 
+thereby he may gather The ground of your 
+dl-will, and so remove it,” &c. 
+
+I. it, 77. ‘we’; so Quartos; Folios, ‘ J.’ 
+
+I. iti, 80. ‘ whilss many fair promotions’; the 
+reading of Quartos; Folios, ‘ while great pro- 
+motions’; (evidently to be read as a quadri- 
+syllable), 
+
+oe 211, 
+“ meane,’ 
+
+I. iii, 106. ‘With those gross taunts I often 
+have endured’; so Quartos; Folios read, ‘ Of 
+those . . . that oft I have e.’. 
+
+I. iii, 109. ‘thus taunted, scorn'd, and 
+batted at’; the reading of Quartos; Folios 
+read, ‘so baited, scorn’d, and stormed at.’ 
+
+I. iii, 114. Omitted in Folios. 
+
+[. iti, 116. Omitted in Quartos. 
+
+[. iii. 130. ‘ Margaret’s battle at St. Alban’s,’ 
+#2. the second battle of St. Albans, Feb. 17, 
+i461. . 
+
+i ili. 161. ‘I being queen’; so the Quartos; 
+Folios read, ‘I am queen.’ 
+
+I. ili. 167-169. Omitted in Quartos. 
+
+T. iii. 219. ‘ them,’ t.e. heaven, used in plural 
+sense. 
+
+I. iti. 287. ‘I'll not believe’; so Quartos; 
+Folios, ‘I will not thinke.’ 
+
+I. iti. 321. ‘And for your grace; and you; 
+my noble lords’; Folios, ‘ And for your Grace, 
+and yours my gracious Lord.’ 
+
+I. iti. 337. ‘old odd ends stolen out’; so 
+Quartos; Folios, ‘odde old ends stolen forth.’ 
+
+L. iii. 354. ‘ Your eyes drop millstones, when 
+fools’ eyes drop tears,’ a proverbial expression; 
+‘drop tears’; the reading of Quartos; Folios, 
+fall Teares. 
+
+I. iv. 3. ‘So full of ugly sights, of ghastly 
+dreams’; so Quartos; Folios, ‘ So full of feare- 
+fall Dreames, of ugly sights.’ 
+
+I. iv. 9, 10. ‘Methoughts that I had broken 
+from the Tower, And was embark’d to cross to 
+Burgundy; so Folios; Quartos read, ‘ Me 
+thoughts I was imbarkt for Burgundy.’ 
+
+I. iv. 25. ‘ten. thousand’; so Quartos; 
+Folios, ‘a thousand.’ 
+
+f. iv. 28. Omitted in Quartos. 
+I. iv. 36, 37. ‘and. often 
+omitted in Quartos. » 
+
+- iv. 38. ‘kept in’; so Quartos; Folios 
+* Stop’d/ 
+
+I. iv. 45. ‘who’; so Quartos; Folios, ‘I’; 
+‘dood,’ river (‘ melancholy flood,’ i.e., the river 
+Styx). 
+
+
+‘person’; so Quartos; Folios 
+
+
+90. ‘cause’; so Quartos; Folios, 
+
+
+ghost’; 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+I. iv. 46. ‘grim ferryman’; ‘i.e. 
+so Quartos; Folios, ‘s:wre f.’ 
+
+I. iv. 57. ‘to your torments’; so Quartos; 
+Folios, ‘unto Torment.’ x 
+I. iv. 59. ‘environ’d me about’; so Quartos; 
+
+Folios omit ‘ about.’ 4 
+
+I. iv. 65. “I promise you, I am afraid to 
+hear you tell it’; so the Quartos; Folios read, 
+“I_am affraid (me thinks) to hear you tell it.’ 
+
+I. iv. 66. “O Brakenbury’; Quartos read, 
+“O  Brokenbury’; Folios, ‘Ah Keeper. 
+Keeper!’ ; “ those,’ so Quartos; Folios “these. 
+
+I. iv. 69-72. Omitted in Quartos. 
+
+J. iv. 72. ‘My guiltless wife’; Clarence’s” 
+wife died before this date. 
+
+I. iv. 85. ‘I pray thee, gentle Keeper, stay 
+by me’; the reading of Quartos; Folios read, 
+“Keeper, I prythee sit by me a-while? 
+
+I. iv. 85. ‘In God’s name what are you, 
+and how came you hither?’; the reading of 
+Quartos; Folios, ‘ What would’st thou, Fellow? 
+And how camm’st thou hither?’ : 
+
+I. iv. 95. ‘ Here are the keys, there sits the 
+duke asleep’ ; so ,Quartos; Folios read, ‘ There 
+lies the Duke asleepe, and there the Keyes.’ 
+
+iv. 106. ‘till the judgement-day’; so 
+Quartos; Folios, ‘til the great judgement- 
+day. 
+
+I. iv. rrs-117. Omitted in Folios. 
+
+I. iv. 121. ‘my holy humour’; so Quartos; 
+Folios read, ‘this passionate humor of mine.’ 
+
+I. iv. 137. ‘it. . . thing’; omitted in Folios. 
+
+I.- iv. 157. ‘shalt we to this gear?’ sea 
+Quartos; Folios read, ‘ shall we fall to worke. 
+
+I. iv. 160. ‘we will chop him in’; so 
+Quartos; Folios read, ‘ throw him into,’ 
+
+I, iv. 175. Omitted in Quartos. 
+
+I. iv. 186. ‘call’d forth from out’; 
+Quartos; Folios, ‘ drawne forth among.’ 
+
+I. iv. 194. ‘to have redemption’; 
+Quartos read; Folios, ‘ for any goodness.’ 
+I: iv. Il. 195, 243. Omitted in Folios. 
+
+I. iv. 222. Omitted in Quartos. i : 
+I. iv. 255. ‘this world’s’; so Quartos; 
+Folios, ‘this garth’s.’ > 
+; I. iv. 263-274. ‘Relent! ’tis,’ &c.; Folios, 
+Relent? no: ’Tis,’ &c.; the text is due to a 
+blending of the readings of Quartos and 
+Folios, first suggested by Tyrwhitt (vide Note 
+vii., Camb. ed.). 
+I. iv. 279. ‘like Pilate’; cp. Matthew xxvii. 
+
+24. 
+
+I. iv, 280. ‘ grievous guilty murder done’; — 
+so Quartos; Folios, ‘ grievous murther’ ‘ 
+
+I. iv. 288. “ Until the duke take’; so Quartos; 
+Ratios. “Till that the Duke give.’ ~« 
+
+
+Charon; 
+
+
+so 
+
+
+so 
+
+
+i. 5. ‘now in peace’; so Quartos; Folios — 
+read, ‘ more to peace.’ *, 4 
+II. i. 7. ‘ Rivers and Hastings’; so Quartos; — 
+
+
+Folios read, ‘ Dorset and Rivers,’ a 
+
+IL. i. 33. ‘On you or yours’; the reading — 
+of Quarto; Folios read, ‘Vpon your Grace.’ 
+
+If. i. go. ‘zeal’; so Quartos; Folios, ‘ Joue. 
+
+II. i. 44. ‘ perfect’; so Quartos; Folios 
+* blessed,’ i 
+
+Il. i. 45. ‘ And in good time. here comes the 
+noble duke’; so Quartos; Folios read, ‘ And 
+in good time, Heere comes Sir Richard Rat. 
+cliffe, and the Duke.’ 
+
+. i, 56. “ unwittingly’; so Quartos; Folios 
+read, ‘ unwillingly.’ 
+
+Il. i. 66. ‘Of you, Lord Rivers, and, Lord 
+Grey, of you’; so Quartos 1-4;. Folios read, 
+“Of you and you, Lord Riuers and of Dorset. 
+
+Il. i. 67. ‘have frown’d on me’; the reat 
+
+
+NOTES 
+rR TL BSA A Ao 
+
+
+ing of Quartos; Folios read, ‘ have frown’d 
+on me, Of you Lord Wooduill, and Lord 
+Scales of you.’ 
+
+Il. i. 69-72. Quoted by Milton in Icono- 
+clastes by way of illustrating his statement 
+that “‘the poets, and some English, have been 
+ia this point so mindful of decorum, as to 
+put never nine pious words in the mouth of 
+any person, than of a tyrant.” 
+
+Il. i, 98. ‘Then speak at once what is it 
+thou demand’st’; ‘speak,’ the reading of 
+Quartos; Folios, ‘say’; ‘demand’st,’ the read- 
+ing of Quartos; Folios, ‘ requests.’ 
+
+Il. i. 103. ‘that tongue’; so Folios; Quar- 
+cos read, ‘the same.’ 
+
+Il. i. 104. ‘slew’; so 
+* Rill’d? 
+
+IL. i. 105. ‘ cruel’; Quartos; Folios, ‘ bitter,’ 
+
+Il. i. 116. ‘his own garments’; Quartos 6, 
+7, 8, “his owne armes’; Folios, ‘his Gar- 
+ments”; “ gave,’ so Quartos; Folios, ‘ did give.’ 
+
+Il. ii, 311. ‘sorrow to wail’; so Folios; 
+Quartos read, ‘labour to weepe for.’ 
+
+II. ii. 15. ‘ daily’; so Quartos; Folios, ‘ ear- 
+nest’; Pope, ‘daily earnest,’ omitting ‘all to 
+that effect.’ 
+
+Il. ii. 16. Omitted in Quartos. 
+
+If. it. 46. ‘perpetual rest’; so Quartos; 
+Folios read, ‘nere-changing night ’; Collier 
+MS., “nere-changing light.” 
+
+Il. ii. 84-85. ‘So do I; I for an Edward 
+weep’; omitted in Folios. 
+
+Il. ii. ll. 89-100, 123-140. Omitted in Quar- 
+tos. 
+
+If. ii. ror. ‘Madam’; so Quartos; Folios, 
+* Sister.’ . 
+
+
+Quartos; Folios, 
+
+
+Il. ii. 144. ‘weighty’; reading of Quartos; 
+Folios omit it. 
+Il. iii, 4. ‘Seldom comes the better’; a 
+
+
+proverbial expression; found in Ray’s Proverbs. 
+Il. iii, 11. ‘Woe to that land that’s govern’d 
+by a child’; cp. Ecclesiastes, x. 16. 
+II. iii. 28. “sons and brothers haught’; so 
+Folios; Quartos, ‘ kindred hauty’; Capell con- 
+
+
+»jectured, ‘ kindred hauty are.’ 
+
+
+II. iv. 20. ‘if this rule were true’; so the 
+Cambridge Editors; Quartos 1, 2, ‘if this were 
+a true rule’; Quartos 3-8, ‘if this were a 
+rule’; Folios, ‘if his rule were true.’ 
+
+II. iv. 62, 63. ‘blood against blood, Self,’ 
+&c.; so Quartos; Folios, ‘ Brother to Brother; 
+Blood to blood, selfe,’ &c. 
+
+Il. iv. 67. ‘Madam, farewell’; omitted in 
+
+
+Quartos. 
+
+Hil. i. 82. ‘formal vice, Iniquity’; Han- 
+mer reads, ‘formal wiss antiquary’; War- 
+burton, ‘formal-wise antiquity’; ‘ Iniquity? 
+
+
+was no uncommon name of the formal (1.e. 
+ccnventional) comic character, the Vice, of the 
+Morality plays (cp. e.g. ‘The Nice Wanton’). 
+
+IIf. i. 110, 111; observe this instance of 
+dramatic irony. 
+
+III. i, 172, 173. Omitted in Quartos. 
+
+Ill. i. 176. ‘icy-cold’; Ingleby’s conjecture; 
+Quartos and Folios read, ‘ icte, cola.’ 
+
+III. i. 193. ‘Chop off his head, man; some- 
+what we will do’; so Quartos; Folios read, 
+“Chop off his Head: something wee will de- 
+termine.’ 
+
+III. ii. 11. ‘razed’; Quartos 1-4, ‘raste’; 
+Quarto 5, ‘caste’; Folios 1, 2, ‘ rased off’; 
+Folios 3, 4, ‘raised off.’ Quoted in Nares 
+“rashea.’ To rase or rash seems to have been 
+an old hunting term used specially for the 
+violence of the boar. 
+
+
+1371 
+
+
+_ TIL. ii. 55. ‘7 witli not do it, to the death ie 
+t.e, though death be the consequence. 
+
+5 Il. ii. 108. ‘ fellow’; Quartos read, ‘ Hast. 
+ings. 
+
+III. iii. 7, 8. Omitted in Quartos. 
+
+III. iii. 15. After this line Folios insert:— 
+
+“When she exclaim’d on Hastings, you, and 
+I’; omitted in Quartos. 
+_ IIL. iii. 23. ‘Make haste; the hour of death 
+is expiate’; so Folio 1; Folios 2-4, ‘is now ex- 
+pired’ (cp. supra 1. 8): expiate — ended, ter- 
+minated; Quartos read, ‘Come, come, dis- 
+patch; the limit of your liues is out’; Steevens, 
+‘ expirate.’ 
+
+Ill. iv. 1. ‘My lords, at once’; so Quartos; 
+Folios, ‘Now, Noble Peers.’ 
+
+III. iv. 10.‘Who, I, my lord,’ &c., so 
+Quartos; the Folio:— 
+
+“We know each other’s Faces; for our Hearts 
+
+He knowes no more of mine, then I of yours, 
+
+Or I of his, my Lord, then you of mine.’ 
+
+
+III. iv. 77. ‘Tellest thow me of “ifs’”’’; so 
+Quartos; Folios, ‘ Talk’st thou to me of “ ifs.’?’ 
+
+III. iv. 84. “raze his helm’; Quartos read, 
+‘race his helme’; Folios 1, 2, ‘rowse our 
+Helmes’; Folios 3, 4, ‘rowze our Helmes’; 
+Rowe, ‘rase our helms’; cp. supra UII. ii. 11, 
+
+III. iv. 85. ‘But I disdain’d it, and did 
+scorn to fly’; so Quartos; Folios, ‘ And I did 
+scorne it, and disdaine to flye.’ 
+
+III. iv. 98. ‘grace of mortal’; so Folios: 
+Quartos, ‘ state of worldly.’ 
+
+III. iv. ll. 104-107. Omitted in Ouartos. 
+
+III. v. 5. ‘ Tut, I can’; so Folios; Quartos, 
+“Tut feare not me, I can.’ 
+
+III. v. 7. Omitted in Quartos. 
+
+III. v. ro-21. The first Quarto differs in 
+many points from this, the reading of the 
+Folios, especially in making Catesby enter 
+with Hastings’ head, though previously Gloster 
+has ordered him ‘to overlook the walls.” <A 
+similar discrepancy occurs in Scene IV., ll. 80. 
+81. 
+
+III. v. 52. Gloucester’s 
+‘Buckingham’ in Folios. 
+
+III. v. 70, 71. ‘ Yet witness . . . farewell’; 
+so Folios; Quartos read, ‘ Yet witnesse what 
+we did intend, and so my Lord adue.’ 
+
+Ee ve ors. ane. adiex ’ ; 
+Omitted in Quartos. 
+
+Tec ViytO?-102.0° 2.20.2 affords’; so 
+Folios; Quartos read, ‘ About three or four a 
+clocke looke to heare What news Guildhall 
+affordeth, and so my Lord. farewell.’ 
+
+III. vi. 12. ‘blind’; so Quartos; 
+‘ bold.’ 
+
+Ill. vii. 24. ‘they spake not a word,’ omitted 
+in Quartos. 
+
+III. vii. 25. ‘breathing stones,’ i.e. they 
+were able to breathe, but without the power 
+of speech; later Quartos, ‘ breathlesse s.’ 
+
+Ill. vii. NM. 98, 99, 120, 127, 144-153, 202, 
+omitted in Quartos, 
+
+III. vii. 220. Omitted in Folios, where the 
+previous line reads, ‘Come, citizens, we -will 
+entreat no more.’ 
+
+Ill. vii. 240. ‘ Richard, England’s 
+king’; so Quartos: Folios, 
+England’s worthie king.’ 
+
+IV. i. 7. ‘As much to you, good sister? 
+Whither away?’ the reading of Folios; Quar- 
+tos, which omit ll. 2-6, read, ‘ Sister, well met, 
+whether esinie so fast?’ 
+
+
+speech given to 
+
+
+103-105. 
+
+
+Folios, 
+
+
+_ royal 
+“King Richard, 
+
+
+1372 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+IV. i. 14. ‘How doth the prince, and my 
+young son of York?’ so Folios; Quartos read, 
+“ How fares the Prince?’ 
+
+IV. i. 15. ‘Right well, dear Madam. By 
+your patience’; the reading of Folios; Quartos 
+read, \ Well Madam, and in health, but by your 
+leave. 
+
+IV. i. 18. ‘why, who’s that?’; the reading 
+ef Quartos; Folios, ‘ who’s that?’ 
+
+IV. i. 25. ‘Zhen bring me to their sights’; 
+so Folios; Quartos read, ‘ Then feare not thou. 
+
+IV. i. 51. ‘To meet you on the way, and 
+welcome you’; so Quartos; Folios read, ‘In 
+your behalfe, to meet you on the wayl 
+
+IV. i. 61. ‘red-hot steel’; Steevens says, 
+“She seems to allude to the ancient mode of 
+punishing a regicide, or any other egregious 
+criminal, viz. by placing a crown of. iron, 
+heated red-hot, upon his head.” 
+
+
+IV. i. 66. ‘Why?’; so Folios; omitted in 
+Quartos, 
+IV. i. 76-77. ‘As miserable by the death of 
+
+
+thee As thou hast made me by my dear lord’s 
+death’; so Quartos; Folios read, ‘ More mitsera- 
+ble by the life of thee, Then,’ &c.; cp. 1. ii. 27. 
+- IV. i, 96.‘ Etghty odd years’; the Duchess 
+was actually only sixty-eight at this time. 
+
+IV. i. 98-104. Omitted in Quartos. 
+
+IV. ii. 16. ‘That Edward still should live 
+true noble prince’; so Quartos and Folios; 
+Theobald, ‘That Edward still should live, 
+True noble Prince. 
+
+IV. ii, 46-53. In the lines the Cambridge 
+text follows substantially the reading of the 
+Quartos in preference to the Folios, where the 
+passage is carelessly printed. 
+
+IV. ii, 56. ‘ The boy is foolish’; i.e. Edward 
+Plantagenet, who had been kept imprisoned in 
+the Tower almost from his tend=rest years. 
+
+IV. ii. 102-119. Omitted in Folios. 
+
+IV. ii. 5. ‘this ruthless piece of butchery’; 
+so Quartos 1, 2; Quarto 3, ‘thir ruthfull 
+. . +» &c.; Quartos 4-8, “this ruthfull .., 
+&e.; Folios, ‘This peece of ruthfull Butchery.’ 
+
+IV. iii. 11. ‘innocent alabaster’; so Quarto 
+8; Quartos 1-7, ‘innocent alabaster’; Folios 1, 
+2, 3 read, ‘ Alabaster innocent’; Folio 4, ‘ Ala- 
+baster innocent.’ 
+
+IV. iii, 40. ‘the Breton Richmond’; “ after 
+the battle of Tewkesbury he had taken refuge 
+in the court of Francis II., Duke of Bretagne ” 
+(Malone). 
+
+IV. iv. 17-19, placed after line 34 in Folios. 
+
+IV. iv. ll. 20, 21, 28. Omitted in Quartos. 
+
+IV. iv. 41. ‘Harry’; Quartos, * Richard’; 
+Folios, ‘ Husband.’ 
+
+IV. iv. 52-53. Omitted 
+posed in Folios. 
+
+IV. iv. 72. ‘their,’ i.e, hell’s; cp. the use of 
+“heaven,’ I. iii, 210. 
+
+IV. iv. 88-90. The reading of the Quartos 
+is followed in these lines in preference to that 
+of the Folios:— 
+
+
+“A dreame of what thou wast, a garish Flagg, 
+To be the aymne of every dangerous shot; 
+A sign of dignity, a Breath, a Bubble.’ 
+
+
+IV. iv. ll. 102-104 transposed; 1. 103 omitted 
+in Quartos; Folios, ‘ she’ for ‘ one.’ 
+
+IV. iv. 175. ‘Humphrey Hour’; perhaps a 
+mere personification, as it were, of some par- 
+ticular Hour, formed on the analogy of such 
+phrases as “Tom Trott,’ &e. According to 
+some, there is an allusion to the phrase ‘to 
+dine with Duke Humphrey.’ 
+
+
+in Quartos; trans- 
+
+
+Lmy lord,’ omitted in Folios. 
+
+
+IV. iv. 179-182. “I prithee . 8? So? 52806 
+Folios; Quartos read, ‘Du. O hear me speake, 
+for I shall never see thee more. Kine. Come, 
+come, you are too bitter.’ : 
+
+IV. iv. 221-234. Omitted in Quartos. % 
+
+IV. iv. 235-236. ‘my enterprise, And dan- « 
+gerous success of bloody wars’; so Folios; 
+Quartos read, ‘my dangerous attempt of hos. i 
+tile armes.’ : 
+
+IV. iv. 275, 276. ‘ steep’d in Rutland’s blood, 
+—-A_ handkerchief’; so Folios; Quartos read, 
+“a handkercher steept in Rutlands bloud? 
+
+IV. iv. 276-277, 288-342. Omitted in Quartos. 
+
+IV. iv. 324. ‘Of ten times’; Theobald’s cor- 
+rection of Folios, ‘ Oftentimes.’ 
+
+- iv. 387. ‘What canst thou swear by 
+now?’; omitted in Quartos. 
+IV. iv, 511-516. So the Folios; the Quartos 
+differ materially in the phraseology of the 
+lines. . 
+V. ii. 17. “Every man’s conscience is a thou- — 
+sand swords’; Folios, ‘men’ for ‘ swords’; 
+the words paraphrase ‘ Conscientia nulle testes.’ 
+V. ili. 2. “My Lord of Surrey, why look you 
+so_sad?’; so the Folios; Quarto 1 reads, 
+“Whie, how now Catesbie, whie lookst thou so 
+bad?’; the other Quartos, “Whie . . . so 
+
+sad?? 
+
+V. ili. 22. ‘Sir William Brandon, you shall 
+bear my standard’; so Folios; Quartos read, 
+‘Where is Sir William Brandon, he shail beare 
+my standerd.’ 
+
+V. iii. 23-26. In Quartos these lines are in- 
+serted between ll. 43 and 44, and ll. 27, 28, 
+43. are omitted. 
+
+7, lil. 40. ‘Good Captain Blunt, bear my 
+good-night to him’; so Quartos; Folios, ‘ Sweet 
+Blunt, make some good meanes to speak with 
+him,’ 
+
+V. ili. 95. ‘tender George’; George Stanley 
+was at this time already married, tho’ Shake- 
+speare, following Hall and Holinshed, makes 
+him a child. ‘ ‘ 
+
+V. ui, 425. “R thee was punched full of — 
+deadly holes’; this has been described as one 
+of the worst lines in all Shakespeare, but this 
+is due to the fact that critics have confused 
+(i.) ‘punch,’ the technical word for making — 
+use of the puncheon, a shoemaker’s tool for 
+making holes with (Fr. poinson, a bodkin, L. 
+punctionem), with (ii.) punch, to beat, which — 
+is a distinct word, and is merely an abbrevia- _ 
+tion of punish. ive 
+
+V. iii. 143. ‘ Let fall thy lance: despair, and — 
+die!’; Capell reads, ‘ hurtless lance’; Collier 
+MS., ‘ pointless lance’; but no change is nec- , 
+essary; the line is probably intentionally 
+abrupt, cp. 148. 
+
+V, iti. 152. “lead’; so Quarto 1; all othe 
+eds., “ laid,’ 
+
+V. iii. 162-163. These lines are Lettsom’s 
+conjecture. the true lines being lost. ; y 
+
+V. ili, 173. ‘I died for hope’; i.e. ‘for 
+want of hope,’ cp. ‘dead for hope’ (Greene’s _ 
+James IV., V., VI.) =‘ dead to hope.’ Vari- 
+ous umnecessary emendations haye been pro- — 
+posed (v. Glossary). 
+
+V. iit. 180. “the lights burn blue, alluding — 
+to the old superstitious belief that when a 
+spirit was present the lights burnt blue. 
+
+V. iii, 204-206. * Methought . . . Richard’; — 
+Johnson proposed to place these lines after 
+line 192. j 
+
+V. iti. 212-214. ‘Kine Ricu. O Ratcliff . . 
+
+
+| 22%. “eaves-dropper’ so 
+arto 1, ‘ease dropper’; 
+ewse dropper’; Folios 1, 2, 3 
+
+
+/, Ui. 317. ‘Bretons’; Capell’s emendation; 
+OS 1, 2, 3, 5, “Britiains’; Folios 3, 4, 
+ains*; Pope, ‘ Britons.’ 
+ii, 322. ‘restrain’; so Quartos and Fo- 
+i Warburton proposed ‘ distraia,’ and this 
+eading has been adopted by several modern 
+itors. 
+|W. iti. 324. ‘ mother’s cost? should be 
+“brother's cost’; the error—a mere printer’s 
+rror—was due to the 2nd edition of Holin. 
+shed; cp. Hall, ‘ brough: wp by my brother’s 
+
+
+he Famous History of the 
+
+
+s a: rol. 3. 
+
+
+“a igh-working.’ 
+I 16. “a long motley coat’; the profes- 
+onal garb of the fool or jester. 
+_Prol. 21. The line is either to be taken as 
+a parenthesis, ‘ that’ referring to ‘ opinion’ 
+(= reputation); or as following directiy on 
+pinion,’ i.e. ‘the reputation we bring of 
+aking what we represent strictly in accord- 
+nee with Sel fol aes : 
+_ Li..6. ‘Those suns o glory’; t.e. rancis 
+a ae of King 
+f En 
+
+
+: high and working ’; 
+
+
+‘Twizt Guynes 
+vuynes, a town in Picardy belong- 
+the English; Arde, a town in Picardy 
+belonging to the French; the vale of Andren 
+between the two towns was the scene of the 
+n ‘Field of the Cloth of Gold.’ 
+I. 2. 63. Capell’s reading of Folio x, ‘but 
+der-like, Out of his selfe-drawing web, O 
+us note.’ Further, Capell and Rowe sub- 
+tuted ‘ self-drawn’ for “ self-drawing? 
+T. 379,80.“ The honourable... out, 
+him in he papers’; Folios I, 2, read 
+ouncil, out . - him in, he papers,’ 
+_ Pope’s explanation of these awkward lines 
+probably correct:—‘ His own letter, by his 
+n single authority, and without the concur. 
+en. the council, must fetch him in whom 
+apers”’ (i.e, registers on the paper). Vari- 
+endations have been Proposed; e.g. ‘ the 
+3 ‘he paupers.’ 
+86. ‘ minister communication’; Collier 
+3., ‘the consummation’; but the phrase , is 
+-Holinshed’s. , 
+SE OO. “the hideous. storm ’; “On Mondaie, 
+the eighteenth of June, was such an hideous 
+orme of wind and weather, that manie con- 
+_ lectured it did prognosticate trouble and hatred 
+_ shortlie after to, follow. betweene princes ” 
+_(Holinshed). 
+‘Vis i. 115. The Duke of Buckingham’s sur- 
+eyor was his cousin, Charles Knevet, _or 
+nyvet, grandson of Humphrey Stafford, First 
+ke of Buckingham. 
+T,. i. 120. ‘ venom-mouth’d’; 
+‘olios read ‘ venom’d-mouth’d,’ 
+L i. 152. ‘Whom from the flow of gall I 
+
+
+ny 
+~ 
+
+
+Pope’s reading; 
+
+
+1377 
+
+
+(i.e, Richard’s brother-in-law, the Duke of 
+Burgundy) meanes and mine.’ 
+
+V. iii. 345. ‘the enemy is bast the marsh’ ; 
+“There was a large marsh in Bosworth plaine 
+between the two armies, which Richard passed, 
+and arranged his forces so that it protected 
+his right wing. He thus also compelled the 
+enemy to fight with the sun in their faces, a 
+great disadvantage when bows and arrows were 
+in use”? (Malone). 
+
+V.v.g. ‘But tell me, is young George Stan. 
+ley living?’; so. Folios and Quartos; Pope, 
+‘ tell me first’; Keightley, ‘tell me, pray,’ &c, 
+There is no need to emend; ‘George’ is evi» 
+dently dissyllabic. 
+
+
+Life of King Henry VIII — 
+
+
+Notes 
+
+
+; Staunton reads xame not, &e.; te. 
+
+
+‘whom I mention, not 
+because I am still angry’; &c. 
+
+I ieqvanogs “rinsing,” Pope’s unnecessary 
+emendation of the Folio reading ‘ wrenching,” 
+which is, evidently an error for ‘ renching,’ 
+a provincial English cognate of ‘rinse,’ both 
+words being ultimately derived from the same 
+Scandinavian original, rinse, through the me- 
+dium of French, rench, a direct borrowing; 
+(Collier MS., ‘ wrensing’). 
+
+« 2° 1. 172. ° count-cardinal’; Pope proposed 
+court-cardinal.’ 
+
+> i+ 176. ‘Charles the 
+Charles V., Emperor of Ger. 
+was his mother’s sister, 
+
++ L200. ‘Hereford’; Capell’s reading; Fo- 
+lios, ‘ Hertford.’ 
+
+_ I. i. 204, 206. The meaning of these unsat- 
+isfactory lines seeins to be, as Johnson ex- 
+
+x am sorry to be present, and an 
+eye-witness of your loss of liberty,’” 
+
++ jl. 211. “ Abergavenny ’; Folios, ‘ Abur- 
+gany,’ the usual Pronunciation of the name. 
+
+- 1, 217. ‘ Montacute’; Folios read “ Mount- 
+acute’; Rowe reads ‘ Montague.’ 
+
+- i 219. ‘ chancellor ’; Theobald’s corree- 
+tion; Folios 1, 2 read © Councellour? 
+
+i. 221. ‘ Nicholas Hopkins’; Theobald’s 
+correction (from Holinshed) of Folios, ‘ Mi- 
+chaell’ (probably due to Printer’s confusion 
+of ‘Nich’ with * Mich =) 
+
+I. ii. 67. ‘ business *; Warburton’s emenda. 
+tion of Folios, ‘ baseness.’ 
+
+i “ Henton’; t,e. Nicholas Hopkins, 
+
+of the Chartreux. Order 
+P Henton ” (Holinshed) ; 
+there 1s no need to emend the text. 
+“confession’s seal’; Theobald’s 
+
+
+€ tion (following Holinshed) of Folios, 
+commissions.” 
+
+
+Li, 
+
+
+© 
+
+
+Emperor,  viz., 
+many; Katherine 
+
+
+of Folio 4; 
+3, 22 3, read ‘To’; Collier MS. reads 
+’; Grant White, ‘To win.’ 
+Capell’s emendation 
+of the Folios; Collier MS. 
+reads “From this’; &c. 
+- li. 190. ‘ Bulmer’; Fotios read * Blumer’; 
+Pope, ‘ Blomer. 
+I. iii. 13. ‘Or springhalt’ ; Verplank’s (Col- 
+lier conj.) emendation of Folios, ‘4 Spring: 
+halt’; Pope, ‘ And springhalt 
+
+
+et 
+
+
+PLAS 
+
+
+Py 
+ae 
+
+
+ees) 
+
+
+Me) 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+Pies 
+
+
+nh 
+* 
+
+
+ee 
+
+
+1374 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+I. iii. 34. ‘wear’; the reading of Folios 2, 
+3, 43, Folio 1 reads ‘wee’; Anon. conjecture 
+“out, 
+
+I. iii. 59. ‘has wherewithal’; Folios, Chars 
+probably an error for ‘*has,’ t.e. (he) has. 
+
+J. iv. 6. ‘As, first, good company’; so Fo- 
+lios 1, 2, 3; Folio 4 reads ‘ As, first good com- 
+pany’; Theobald, ‘as, first-good company ’; 
+Halliwell, ‘as far as good company,’ &c. 
+
+i. 29. ‘was either pitied in him_or for- 
+gotten’; we. “either produced no effect, or 
+only ineffectual pity’ (Malone). 
+
+II. i. 54. ‘Sir William Sands’; Theobald’s 
+emendation (from Holinshed) of Folio 1, ‘ Sir 
+Walter Sands’; Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘ Walter Sands.’ 
+
+II. i. 86. ‘mark’; Warburton’s emendation 
+of Folios, ‘ make.’ 
+
+Il. i. 10s. ‘I now seal it,’ i.e. my truth,— 
+with blood. 
+
+Il. ii. 85. ‘ one have-at-him’; Folio 1, ‘ one; 
+haue at him’; Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘one heave at 
+him’; Knight, ‘ one;—have at him.” : 
+
+Il. ii. 94. ‘Have their free voices,’ 1.e. 
+‘have liberty to express their opinions freely ’; 
+(Grant White, ‘Gave’ for ‘ Have’). 
+
+Jl. iii. 14. ‘that quarrel, fortune, do’; Fo- 
+lio 1 reads ‘that quarrell, Fortune, do’ 
+Collier MS., ‘that cruel fortune do’; 
+Keightley, ‘that quarrel, by fortune, dos 
+Lettsom conjectured ‘that fortunes quarrel 
+do’; Hanmer, ‘that quarr'ler, fortune dp ae 
+
+
+Il. iii. 46. ‘little Englend’; Steevens 
+pointed out that Pembrokeshire was known as 
+“httle England’; and as Anne Bullen was 
+about to be made Marchioness of Pembroke, 
+there may be a special point in the phrase. 
+
+II. iii. 92. ‘the mud in Egypt, t.e. ‘the 
+jand fertilized by the Nile’s overflow.’ 
+
+ll. iv. 62. ‘ That longer you desire the court,’ 
+f.e. desire the court to delay its proceedings; 
+
+
+Folio 4, ‘defer’; Keightley conjectured ‘ court 
+delay'd.’ 3 : 
+Il. iv. 172. ‘The Bishop of Bayonne’; 
+
+
+strictly it should be ‘the Bishop of Tarbes,’ 
+but the mistake was Holinshed’s. 
+
+II. iv. 174. ‘The Duke of Orleans,’ was the 
+second son of Francis I., King of France. 
+
+Tl. iv. 182. ‘the bosom of my conscience’; 
+Holinshed’s use of ‘secret bottom of my con- 
+science’ justified Theobald’s emendation of 
+‘bosom’ to ‘ bottom.’ 
+
+II. iv. 199. ‘throe’; Pope’s emendation of 
+Folios, ‘ throw.’ 
+
+Il. iv. 204. ‘ yet not,’ i.e. not yet. 
+
+Il. iv. 225. ‘drive’; Pope’s emendation of 
+Folios, ‘ drives.’ 
+
+III. i. 38. ‘and that way I am wife in’; 
+ie. ‘concerning my conduct as a_ wife.’ 
+(Rowe proposed ‘wise’ for ‘ wife.’ . 
+
+lll. i. qo. ‘Tanta est erga te mentis in- 
+tegritas, regina serenissima’; ‘So great is our 
+integrity of purpose towards thee, most serene 
+princess.’ 
+
+Ill. ii. 64. ‘He is returned in his opinions,’ 
+i.e. having sent in advance the opinions he has 
+gathered. 
+
+Ill. ii. 66. ‘ Together with all famous col- 
+leges’; Rowe reads, 
+famous colleges.’ 
+
+Ill. ii. 172. ‘been mine so’; so Folio 1; 
+Folios 2, 3, 4 read ‘ been so.’ 
+
+II. ii. 192. ‘that am, have, and will be, 
+&e.; the reading of the Folios of these lines, 
+which have. tayed the ingenuity of scholars: 
+
+
+“Gather’'d from all the 
+
+
+some two-dozen various emendations are re- 
+corded in the Cambridge Shakespeare, but 
+probably the text as we have it represents the 
+author’s words; the meaning of the passage 
+is clear, and the difficulty is due to the change 
+in. construction. Instead of ‘that am, have, 
+and will be,’ it has been proposed to read, 
+‘that am your slave, and will be’; this woula 
+get rid of the awkward ‘have’ = ‘have 
+been,’ but probably the line is correct as it 
+stands, 
+
+DL Ristijer 72.0% that 
+that . . . dare mate. 
+
+Ill. ii. 282. ‘ And dare us with his cap like 
+larks’; *‘ One of the methods of daring larks 
+was by small mirrors fastened on scarlet cloth, 
+which engaged the attention of these birds 
+while the fowler drew his net over them” 
+(Steevens). 
+
+III. ii, 321. ‘ Cassado’; so Folios, following 
+Hall and Holinshed; Rowe reads the correct 
+form, ‘ Cassalis.’ 
+
+_III. ii. 343. ‘ Chattels’; Theobald’s emenda- 
+tion of Folios, ‘ Castles.’ 
+
+IV. ii. 58-59. ‘ Those twins of learning .. . 
+Ipswich and Oxford’; Wolsey’s College, Ips- 
+wich, of which the gateway still remains, was 
+founded by Wolsey. Christ Church College. 
+Oxford, was founded by Wolsey: it was first 
+called Cardinal College. 
+
+IV. ii, 60. ‘the good that did it’; Pope 
+reads, ‘the good he did it’; Collier MS., ‘ the, 
+good man did it’; Staunton, ‘the good that 
+rear’d it,’ &c. The words, if not corrupt, must 
+mean the ‘good man (or the goodness) that 
+caused it, t.e. founded it.’ 
+
+V. i. 34. ‘is’: Theobald, ‘ he’s.’ 
+
+V. i. 106. ‘you a brother to us,’ t.e. being 
+a Privy Councillor. 
+
+
+. aare mate’; i.e. J 
+
+
+V. iii. 11-12. ‘ frail and capable of our flesh ” , 
+
+
+Keightley, ‘ culpable and frail,’ &c.; Pope, ‘ and 
+capable Of frailty’; Malone, ‘ incapable; Of 
+our flesh’; Mason conj. ‘and culpable: Of our 
+flesh, &e. 
+
+_ V. ili, 22. “pace ’em not in their hands’; 
+i.e. ‘leading them by the bridle.’ 
+
+V. iii. 30. ‘The Upper Germany’; alluding ~ 
+to Thomas Munzer’s insurrection in Saxony 
+(1521-1522), or to the Anabaptist rising in 
+Munster (1535); the passage is from Foxe. 
+
+V. iii, 66. ‘ Lay,’ i.e. “though ye lay.’ 
+ave iii. 85. ‘ This is too much’; the Folios 
+give the speech to the Chamberlain, evidently 
+due to confusion of ‘ Cham.’ and ‘ Chan.’ 
+
+
+V. iii. 125. ‘bare’; Malone’s emendation of . ; 
+x ; 
+
+
+Folios, 
+
+
+V. iii, 165. ‘ You “ld spare your spoons, te. 
+
+
+presents. 
+
+V. ‘iv. 27. ‘And that I would not for a 
+cow, God save her!’ a proverbial expression 
+still used in the South of England. 
+
+V. iv. 65, 66. ‘The tribulation of Tower- 
+hill, or the limbs of Limehouse.’ There is no — 
+evidence for finding in these words the names 
+of Puritan congregations, as commentators 
+have supposed; the alternative phrases are suf- 
+ficiently expressive without any such supposi- 
+tion, and were perhaps coined for the occasion; 
+they are not found elsewhere. 
+
+V. v. 71.‘ And your good brethren’; 
+Thirlby’s conjecture, 
+
+Folios read ‘and you good brethren.’ 
+V. v. 76. ‘has’; 4e. he has; Folios, ‘’Has.’ 
+
+
+adopted by Theobald; 
+
+
+’ 
+
+
+gates 1 th’ city. 
+
+
+Prol. 16. ‘ Timbria, Heltas, Chetas, Troien,’ | 
+Tilia, | 
+
+
+so Folios; Theobald reads ‘ Thymbria, 
+Sc@a, Troian;’ Capell, ‘ Thymbria, Ilias, Che- 
+tas, Troyan.’ 
+
+Prol. 17. ‘ Antenorides’; Theobald’s emenda- 
+tion of Folios, ‘ Antenonidus’; Pope reads 
+* Anteroridas.’ 
+
+
+Prol. 23. ‘A prologue arm’d’; t.e. clad in| 
+
+
+armour instead of in a black cloak, which was 
+the usual garb of the speaker of the Prologue. 
+
+Prol. 28. ‘ Beginning in the middle’; Theo- 
+bald. reads ‘’Ginning 1’ th’ middle.’ 
+
+T. i, 31. ‘So, traitor!—‘‘ When she comes!” 
+—When is she thence?’; Quarto, ‘So traitor 
+then she comes when she is thence’; Folios, 
+‘So (Traitor) then she comes, when she ts 
+thence.’ ; ; 
+
+I. i. 37. ‘a storm’; Rowe’s correction of 
+lial “@ scorne’; Folios 1, 2, ‘a-scorne’,; 
+
+olios 3, 4, ‘a-scorn.’ 
+
+I. i. 45. ‘praise her’; so Quarto; 
+read ‘ pratse it.’ : 
+
+‘I. i. 55. ‘ Handlest in thy discourse, O, that 
+her hand,’ &c.; Theobald, ‘ dtscourse—how 
+white her hand’; similar emendations have 
+been proposed, but probably ‘that her hand’ 
+= ‘that hand of hers.’ : 
+
+T. i. 78-79. ‘as fair on Friday as Helen is on 
+Sunday’; i.e. as beautiful in her worst dress 
+as Helen in her ‘ Sunday best.’ 
+
+I. ii. 171. “two and fifty’; so Quarto, Folios; 
+Theobald reads ‘one and fifty’: ‘hairs’; 
+
+
+. Quarto reads ‘ heires.’ 
+
+
+I. ii. 260. ‘an eye’; so Quarto; Folios read 
+
+
+~ “money’; Collier conjectured ‘one eye.’ 
+
+
+I. ii. 313. ‘ joy’s soul lies in the doing,’ so 
+Quarto, Folio 1; Folios 2, 3, 4 read ‘the soules 
+joy lyes in dooing.’ Mason conjectured ‘ dies’; 
+Seymour conjectured ‘lives,’ &c. 
+
+I. iii. 31. ‘ thy godlike’; Theobald’s emenda- 
+
+Quarto, ‘the godlike’; Folios, ‘thy 
+*> Pope, ‘thy goodly.’ 
+
+54. “Retoris’; Dyce’s 
+Quarto, Folios read ‘ Retires.’ 
+
+I, iii. 70-75. Omitted in Quarto. 
+
+I. iii. 73. ‘ Mastic,’ perhaps a corrupt form 
+of L. mastigia, a rascal that ought to be 
+whipped; later, a scourge; the more_ usual 
+form of the word was ‘ mastix,’ cp. ‘ Histrio- 
+mastix.’ : 
+
+T. iii. 92. ‘ill aspects of planets evil’; so 
+Folios; Quarto, ‘influence of euill Planets.’ 
+
+I. iii. 220. ‘ Achilles’’; Johnson conjectured 
+* Alcides’.’ 
+
+T. iii, 238. - And, Jove’s accord,’ i.e. *‘ And, 
+Jove granting or favouring’; various emenda- 
+tions have been proposed on the supposition 
+that the passage is corrupt. 
+
+I. iii. 315, 354-356. Omitted in Quarto. 
+
+II. i. 32, 33. Omitted in Folios. 
+
+II. i. 125. ‘brooch’; Rowe, ‘ brach’; Ma- 
+lone conjectured ‘ brock.’ 
+
+
+emendation; 
+
+
+Il. ii. 77. ‘an old aunt whom the Greeks 
+held captive, i.e. ‘‘ Priam’s sister, Hesione, 
+whom Hercules, being enraged at Priam’s 
+
+
+breach of faith, gave to Telamon, who by her 
+had Ajax” (Malone). a 
+Il. ii. rro. ‘Our firebrand brother, Paris, 
+
+
+Folios 
+
+
+it ale Cae 
+NOTES 1375 
+Troilus and Cressida—Notes 
+Prol, 15. “six-gated city’; Theobald, ‘six! alluding to Hecuba’s dream that she should 
+
+
+| be delivered of a burning torch. 
+
+
+II. ii. 166. ‘ Aristotle thought’; Rowe and 
+Pope proposed ‘ graver sages think,’ to save 
+Shakespeare from the terrible anachronism. 
+It has been pointed out that Aristotle speaks 
+of political and not of moral philosophy; and, 
+further, that Bacon makes the same mistake 
+in his Advancement of Learning, Book II. 
+(published 1605). 
+
+iii. 72. ‘of the prover,’ the reading of 
+Quarto; Folios read ‘to the Creator’; Rowe 
+
+
+(ed. 2), ‘to thy creator’; Capell, ‘ of thy 
+creator.’ 
+Il. iii. 86. ‘He shent our,’ Theobald’s 
+
+
+emendation; Quarto reads ‘He sate our’; Fo- 
+lios, ‘He sent our.’ 
+
+II. iii. 150. ‘Enter you’; so Folios; Quarto 
+reads ‘ entertaine.’ 
+
+III. i. 124. The reading of Folios omitted in 
+Quarto. 
+
+Ill. ii. 72. ‘fears’; so Folio 3; 
+Folios 1, “teares’; Folio 4, ‘ tears.’ 
+III. ii. 160. ‘show’; Folios 1, 2, 3, ‘ shew’ 
+“ showed.’ 
+Il. “iii. 4. ‘through the sight I bear -in 
+things to love’; (?) ‘through my peculiar 
+knowledge as to where it is well to place af- 
+fection’; Johnson proposed ‘ Jove’ for ‘ love,’ 
+reading, ‘through the sight I bear in things, 
+to Jove I have abandoned,’ &c., but Jove fa- 
+voured the Trojans. No very satisfactory ex- 
+planation has been advanced. 
+
+
+Quarto, 
+e 
+
+
+— 
+
+
+Ill. iti. 30. ‘In most accepted pain,’ — 
+trouble willingly undergone. Hanmer sug: 
+gested ‘pay’ for ‘ pain,’ 
+
+III. iii. 110. ‘ mirror’d,’ the reading of 
+
+
+Singer MS. and Collier MS.; Quarto, Folios. 
+“married’; Keightley, ‘ arrived’; &c. 
+
+Ill. iii. 175. ‘One touch of nature makes 
+the whole world kin,’ i.e. one touch of human 
+nature, one natural trait, shows the kinship 
+of all mankind, viz. that they praise new-born 
+gawds, and are always hankering after novelty, 
+
+Ill. iii. 194. ‘one of Priam’s daughters’; 
+t.c. ‘ Polyxena, in the act of marrying whom 
+she was afterwards killed by Paris.’ 
+
+IV. ii. 74. ‘secrets of nature’; so Folios; 
+Quarto, ‘secrets of neighbor Pandar’; Theo- 
+bald, ‘secret’st things of nature’; Hanmer, 
+“secretest of natures,’ &c., &c. 
+
+IV. iv. 4. ‘violenteth in a sense as strong, 
+As that which’; so Quarto; Folios read ‘no 
+lesse in... As that which, &c.; Pope, ‘in 
+its sense ts no less strong, than that Which.’ 
+
+IV. iv. 77-80. The reading in the text is 
+Staunton’s; many emendations have been pro- 
+posed, but this is generally accepted by mod- 
+ern editors. 
+iv. 146-150; v. 165-170. Omitted in 
+vy. 29. Omitted in Folios; the reading 
+of Quarto; Collier MS. reads ‘ And parted you 
+and your same argument.’ 
+
+IV. v. 59. ‘ accosting,’ Theobald’s conjec- 
+ture; Quarto, Folios, ‘@ coasting’; Collier MS., 
+“ occasion’; &e. 
+
+IV. v. 142. ‘ Neoptolemus so mirable’; Han- 
+mer reads ‘Neoptolemus’ sire so mirable’; 
+Warburton, ‘Neoptolemus’s sire irascible’; 
+
+
+iw le iy ot rw toe Hy > 
+; lao SS < Peay tie 
+1376 NOTES . 
+*~ 
+Collier conjectured ‘ Neoptolemus so admira- | V. iii. 112. The Folio here inserts:— 
+ble, &c. | 
+Voit 23-47." raw tetter,’ the reading | ‘‘ Pann, Why, but heare you? 
+
+
+of Quarto; omitted in Folios, substituting ‘ and 
+the Leg 
+
+
+Wei. 
+Folios; ooate reads “at dis bare leg. 
+
+V. ili. 20-21. ‘as lawfm, for we would give 
+amuch, io use violent the) ts’; Tyrwhitt’s con- 
+jecture; Folios read, ‘as jawofull For we 
+
+
+would count give much to as wolent thefts.’ 
+
+
+Coriolanus—N otes 
+
+
+I. i. 178, 180. ‘your virtue? &c.; ‘‘ your 
+virtue is to speak well of him whom his own 
+offences have subjected to justice; and to rail 
+at those laws by which he whom you praise 
+was punished ”” (Johnson). 
+
+I. iii, 16. ‘bound with oak, as a mark of 
+
+honour for saving the life of a citizen. 
+“I. iii. 46. ‘At Grecian sword, contemning,’ 
+&e.; Folio 1 reads ‘At Grecian sword. Con- 
+tenning, tell Valeria,’ &c.; the reading in the 
+text is substantially Collier’s; many emenda- 
+tions have been proposed; perhaps a slightly 
+better version of the line would be gained by 
+the omission of the comma. 
+
+I. iv. tq. ‘that fears you less *; Johnson 
+conjectured ° but fears you less’ abbas and 
+Capell conjectured ‘ that fears. you more’ 
+Schmidt, ‘that fears you,—less.’ 
+ing is obvious, though there is a confusion, 
+
+
+due to the case of the double negative in) 
+
+
+“nor’ and ‘ less.’ 
+
+iv, 31. ‘gow herd of—Botls, Johnson’s! 
+emendation. Folios 1, 2, ‘you Heard oof 
+Byles’; Folios 3, 4, ‘you Herd .of Biles’; 
+Rowe, ‘fou herds of biles’; Pope (ed. 1), 
+< you herds; of boils’; Pope (ed. 2), Theo- 
+
+
+bald, ‘ you! herds of boils’; Collier MS., ‘ 
+heard of boils ’; > &e. &e. 
+
+I. iv, 42. “trenches followed ” ; so Folios 2, + 
+4; Folio 1, ‘ trenches followes’; Collier (ed. 
+“trenches follow’; (ed. 2), ‘trenches. 
+low!’; Dyce, Tuctladin conjectured 
+follow me A &e. 
+
+Anav. 57: “ Cato’s’; 
+
+
+trenches: 
+
+
+; Theobald’s emendation of 
+Folios, ‘ Calues’ and © Calues ”; Rowe, ‘ Calvus.’ 
+I. vi. 6. ‘ ye’; Folios, “‘.the.’ 
+
+I. vi. 76. Folios, ‘O, me alone! 
+sword of me?’; the punctuation 
+is Capell’s. Clarke’s explanation, 
+line imperative, seems the most plausible:— 
+“O take me alone for weapon among you 
+all! make yourselves a sword of me.” 
+
+I. ix. 41-53. The chief departure from the 
+folios in “this doubtful passage is the substi- 
+-tution of ‘coverture’ for ‘overture,’ as con- 
+jectured by Tyrwhitt; ‘him’ is ‘seemingly 
+used here instead of the neuter ‘ it.’ 
+
+
+make you a 
+in the text 
+making the 
+
+
+Il. i, 241. ‘end,’ te. to where he should end. 
+
+ig ® i, 271. ‘ touch,’ Hanmer’s -emendation; 
+Folios, ‘ teach’; Theobald, “reach,” 
+
+Tl. iii. 63- “64. ‘uirtues Which our divines 
+
+
+- dose by ’em? 
+
+
+fe. * which our divines preach to 
+men in vain’ 
+
+
+3 but the line is jpossibly corrupt. 
+. A. aii, 122. ‘ woolvish toge’; Steevens’ con- 
+jecture, adopted by Malone; Folio a reads 
+
+
+The mean- j 
+
+
+un- 
+
+
+Fol. 
+
+
+* hanging at his brother's leg’ ; so| Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name.”” 
+
+
+Troy. Hence brother lackie; ignomie and — 
+shame 
+
+
+Sense 
+
+
+V. vii. 6. ‘aims’; so Capell; Quarto, Boiss 
+2, ‘armes’; Folio 2, ‘arme’; Folios 3, 4, 
+‘arms,’ 
+
+
+WO 
+
+
+‘Woolvish — 
+Mason con-— 
+or * foolish gown’; 
+woolish gown ” Steevens 
+
+
+=~ Woolwish tongue’; ; Folios 2, 3, 4) 
+gowne” Capell, ‘wolfish gown’ 
+jectured ‘ woollen gown,’ 
+Beckett conjectured * 
+
+
+conjectured ‘ woolzish tongue’; Grant White Ye 
+conjectured * foolish togue ” ¥ Clarke, we) wool. os) 
+nish, t.e. ‘ woolenish.’ an 
+IL. iii. 251-253. tide Preface. i 5 
+hed “Hydra here’; i.e. ‘the many- ay 
+headed multitude *; so Folio 2. - 
+TIL. i. 98-101. te. “Jet your admitted | See 
+
+
+norance take a lower tone and defer to their 
+
+
+admitted superiority PA (Clarke). 
+
+IIl. i. 230. ‘ your’; Rowe’s emendation of ; 
+Folios, ‘ our.’ 
+
+DRS Sys “ thwartings of’; Theobald’s 
+reading; Folios, “things of’; Rowe, adage ‘nn 
+that thwart’ ; ; Wright conjectured “things ‘that a 
+cross.” 7 
+
+aby RLETE “to the herd’; 
+
+
+Warburton’s oo 4 
+
+
+gestion, RS by Theobald; Folios, ‘to t 
+
+
+heart’; Collier MS.. O. th* heart’: 7 ‘Ke, 
+
+Ill. i, 56. “though but bastards and syl-— 1s 
+lables” ; Capell, “but bastards’; Seymour con: | 
+Sertured “ although but bastards, syllables*; 
+
+
+Badham conjectured ‘ thought’s bastards, and 
+but syllables.’ 
+IIT. ii. 64. “I am in this’; Warburton, eh 
+this advice I speak as your wife, your son,’ &c. 
+III. ii. 69. “that want,’ i.e. the want -of that 
+
+
+inheritance. 4 
+
+LUT. aks ‘Which often, ,thus, conrecting 
+thy stout peo Johnson, “With often,’ &c. 
+Canell, ‘And often’; Staunton conjectured 
+“While often’ ; Nicholson conjectured * Whiles- 
+often ty ‘Warburton, ‘ Which soften.’ 
+
+
+ime iii. 35- ‘among’s,’ t.e. among us; Folio: 
+
+
+I, “amongs’ ; Folios 2) Br 4s “amongst you" Sok: 
+
+
+Pope, Ppa vou’; Canell, ‘among us.’ 
+LI... iii. “ throng,’ Theobald’s and. War- 34 
+burton’s oo of Folios, ‘ Throwgh.’ . 
+IIl. iii. 55- “accents,” Theobald’s conestons 
+of Folios, ‘actions.’ 
+
+UII. iii. 130. “not’; .Capell’s correction ‘ot . 
+Folios, ee ’ 
+
+IV. # ‘ fortune’s blows, When quite © 
+
+
+struck hone ‘being gentle wounded, craves A 
+noble cunning’; d.e. “When \Fortune’s blows - 
+are most struck home, to be gentle, although 
+
+
+avounded, demands a moble philosophy ”” 
+(Clarke). Pone, ‘gently warded’; ‘Hanmer, 
+
+ri greatly warded’: *: Collier MS.,. “ genitle- d 
+minded.’ : 
+
+
+IV. iv. 23. “My birth-blace hate T, and my 
+love’s upon”; Capell’s emendation. Folio 1 
+
+
+m/s 
+
+
+aes 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+Birth-place have I, and ie Joues 
+'; Folios 2, 3, ‘My Birth-lace have I, 
+my lover upon’; Folio 4, ‘My Birth-place 
+
+
+“ appear- 
+of the 
+at the 
+
+IV. vii, 51-53. The sense of the lines should 
+
+
+be to this effect:—‘ Power is in itself most 
+commendable, but the orator’s chair, from 
+_ whi a man’s past actions are extolled, is 
+_ the inevitable tomb of his power.” The pas- 
+ge is crude, and many suggestions have been 
+dvanced. 
+
+AV. vii. 55.‘ fowler’; Dyce’s ingenious read- 
+i Se ’ is the best conjectural emenda- 
+= ‘ion of the line, 
+
+
+- i. 5-6. “I am his first-born son, that was 
+he last That ware’; so Quartos; Folios i 
+3 read ‘I was the first-born son, that was 
+ve last That wore’; Folio 4, ‘I wos the first- 
+wm Son of him that last Wore’; Pope, ‘I 
+_the firstborn son of him that last Wore’; 
+Collier, “I am his son That wore’; Collier 
+- ‘I am the first borne Sonne, of him the 
+That wore.’ 
+i, 62. ‘gates’; Capelt reads ‘ gates, tri- 
+es’; Collier MS., ‘ brazen gates.’ 
+i. 138. ‘his tent’; Theobald reads ‘her 
+(alluding to Hecuba beguiling Polym- 
+or into the tent where she and the other 
+_ Trojan captives were). 
+xi I. i. 154. ‘drugs’; Quarto 1, ‘ drugges’; 
+uatto 2, “ grudgges’; Folios, ‘ grudges.’ 
+i. 485. ‘stand up’; perhaps these words 
+e, as Pope suggested, merely a stage-direc- 
+ak a % 
+
+
+Te 82, 83; cf. 1 Henry VI., V. iii. 77, 
+Richard III., I. ii. 228, 229. 
+7 ili. 20. ‘ yellowing’; so Quartos; Folios 
+yelping’; Pope, ‘ yelling.’ 
+. tii, 93. ‘barren detested’; Rowe reads 
+rren sand detested’; Capell, ‘bare, de- 
+m1 
+
+
+ve 
+
+
+Mee i 26. “painted hope braves -your 
+htiness’*; so Quartos; Folio 1; Folios 2, 
+4, ‘painted hope, she . -’;, Warburton, 
+aimted cope she . . .’; Capell, ‘ paint now 
+S your mighliness’; Steevens conjectured 
+mted, braves your . 3 FAKE JRC. 
+
+. lil, 132. ‘outlive us’; Theobald’s point- 
+'; Quartos, Folios. ‘ outliue us’; Dyce (ed. 
+‘outlive ye. 
+
+I. iii. 152. ‘ paws’; Collier MS., ‘ claws.’ 
+é i . “scrowl’; Quartos, ‘scrowle’; 
+“scowle’; Folios 3, 4, ‘scowl’; 
+
+
+II. -iv. 9. ‘case’; Pope’s emendation of 
+rtos, Folios. ‘ cause.’ 
+
+I. iv. 49. ‘Which that sweet tongue hath 
+lade’; so Quartos, Folios; Hanmer, ‘ Which 
+
+
+at sweet tongue of thine hath often made’; 
+
+
+carer: 
+
+
+V. i. 69. Many emendations have been pro- 
+posed to clear up the obscurity of the line. : 
+It appears to mean either (i.) that Coriolanus 
+bound Cominius by an oath to yield to his 
+conditions; or (ii.) that Coriolanus was bound 
+by an oath as to what he would not, unless 
+the Romans should yield to his conditions. 
+Johnson proposed to read— 
+
+
+“What he would not, 
+Bound by an oath. To yield to his condi- 
+
+
+tions,’ — ? 
+
+
+the rest being omitted. Many attempts have 
+been made to improve the passage, but no 
+pioposal carries conviction with it. 
+y V. ii. 81. ‘your’; so Folio 1, 2, 3; Folio 4, 
+our. 
+
+V. ii. 89-91. ‘though I owe My revenge 
+properly,’ i.e. “though revenge is my own, re- 
+mission belongs to the Volscians.’ 
+
+
+Titus Andronicus—Notes 
+
+
+Collier MS., ‘Which that sweet tongue hath 
+made in minstrelsy’; &c. 
+
+
+IIL. 5 a | For these, tribunes’ ; so Ouartos, 
+Folio 1; Folio 4, ‘ For these, these Tribunes’; 
+Malone, 
+
+
+conjectured ‘For these two tribunes ?;- Collier 
+
+
+i. 34-36. Quarto 2 reads ‘ or if they did 
+marke, All bootlesse unto them‘; Folios, ‘oh 
+if they did heare They would not pity me’; 
+Capell, ‘ or, if they did mark, All bootless unto 
+them, they would not pity me,’ &c. 
+IIl. i. 67. ‘ sight’; Theobald, ‘ spight.’ { 
+III. i. 86. ‘Sweet varied notes, enchanting . 
+every ear’; Collier MS. reads ‘ Rich varied : 
+notes, enchanting old and young’; Folio 4, * 
+“Sweet various . . .’; : 
+; the reading of Collier,, 
+
+
+read ‘wilt’; Capell conjectured ‘ wou’t.’ : 
+
+Ill, i. 226. ‘blow’; the reading of Folios 
+2, 3, 4; Folio 1, Quartos, ‘ flow.’ 
+
+Il. i. 282-3. ‘ employ’d in these things,’ &c.; 
+so Folios; Quartos, ‘imployds in these Armes’; 
+perhaps, as the Cambridge editors suggest, the 
+original MS. had as follows:— 
+
+
+“And thou, Lavinia, shalt be imployd, 
+
+
+Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between thy 
+teeth,” 
+
+
+RT aero nace me 
+from Collier MS. and Long MS.; Quartos, e 
+Folios, ‘in’; Rowe, ‘ like.’ 
+
+III. i. 210. ‘would’; so Quartos; Folios 
+
+
+the Quarto reading being due to a correction 
+of “teeth’ to ‘armes’; the latter being taken 
+by the printer as belonging to the previous 
+line. 
+
+III. i. 292. ‘leaves’; Rowe’s emendation of 
+Quartos, Folios, ‘ loues.’ 
+
+Ill. ii. The whole of this scene is omitted in 
+Quartos. { 
+
+III. ii. 13. ‘with outrageous beating’; 
+Folio 1 reads * without ragious heating,’ : 
+
+
+1378 ‘ NOTES 
+EV iisn9- “Fear her not’; so Quartos; Folios emendation; Quartos, Folios read 'Te Sa- 
+read ‘ Feare not’; Rowe, ‘ "Fear thou not. | ‘urnine, to Caius’; Rowe (ed. 1), ‘To Celus 
+
+
+$V 4..45-2 * Soft! sO busily’; Quartos, Folios, 
+reads ‘ Soft, sO busily "3 Rowe, “Soft! see how 
+busily’; Capell, ‘Soft, softs how busily * ; | 
+Knight, ‘ Soft! how busily ’; Keightley, | Soft; |)" 
+soft! so busily’; Collier MS., “Soft! see how | 
+busily.’ 
+
+IV. i. 81-82. ‘ Magni Dominator poli, Tam 
+fentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides?’; ie. 
+Great ruler of the skies, dost thou so edits | 
+hear and see crimes committed? (Seneca’s 
+Hippolytus, ii. 671); Theobald, ‘ Magne Doz:mi- 
+nator’; Hanmer, ‘Magne Regnator.’ 
+
+IV. i. 129. ‘ Revenge, ye heavens,’ 
+conjectured; ‘ Reuenge the 
+
+
+Johnson 
+heauens, so Quarto, 
+
+
+Folios. 
+IV. ii. 8, 76; omitted in Folios. 
+IV. ii. 20-21. “He who is pure in life, and 
+
+
+free from sin, needs not the darts of the | ‘ 
+Moor, nor the bow # (Horace, Odes I. 22). H 
+
+
+IV. ii. 26. ‘sound’; Theobald conjectured | 
+‘Fond,’ i.e. foolish; but ‘sound’ is probably | 
+to be taken ironically. | 
+
+IV. ii. 165. ‘take no longer days’; Collier | 
+MS., “ make no longer delays.’ 
+
+IV. iii. 16. ‘then,’ a misprint for ‘ that.’ 
+
+FV: iii 2. ‘let’; so Quartos, Folio 1; Folios 
+iE Ae a id let.’ 
+
+IV. iii. “Terras Astrea reliquit’; i.e. | 
+
+} 
+
+
+Astrza (the  codaeee of Justice) left the "earth 
+(Ovid. Metam. i. 150. 
+IV. iii. 56. ‘To Saturn, Caius’; 
+
+
+Capell’s 
+
+
+and to Saturn’; (ed. 2), ‘To Saturn and to 
+
+
+Celus.’ 
+TV. iv. “Thy life-blood out’; Folio 2, 
+ont’ oan ay ‘ont’; Walker suggested 
+
+
+a previous line had been lost, but the text 
+seems correct, “and drawn thy life-blood 
+out.” 
+
+IV. iv. 103. Omitted in Quarto 2 and Folios; 
+the reading of Quarto 1. 
+
+
+- 1. 17. ‘All the Goths,’ should be ‘ The 
+other Goths, as ‘the first Goth’ is kept dis- 
+tinct. 
+
+V. i. 42. An allusion to the old proverb, 
+
+
+“A black man is a pearl in a fair woman’s 
+eye” Seas 
+
+Verz ‘And cut her hands’; so Quartos; 
+Folios, “ ee cut her hands of *; ? Collier MS.. 
+Cut her hands of. 
+
+
+V. i. 122. A proverb found in Rays collec- 
+tion. 
+Vere 132. “break their necks’ > Malone con- 
+
+
+; Jackson 
+
+
+jectured ‘ break their necks and die’ 
+
+
+conjectured * stray and break their necks’ 3; Col- 
+| lier MS., Paige break their necks’ &c. 
+
+V. ii. 80. ‘ply’; so Quartos; Folios, © play.” 
+
+Vi. i. oe iil, 52. Omitted in Folios. 
+
+V. iii. 73. ‘Lest Rome’; Capell’s reading; 
+Quartos, Folios, © Let Rome ”; Malone, © Lest 
+Rome.’ 
+
+
+V. iii. 124. ‘And as he 4s’; so 2 
+Folios; Theobald reads ‘ Damn’d as he is” 
+
+
+Romeo and Juliet—Notes 
+
+
+PROLOGUE, omitted in Folios. 
+27. “cruek es so Quartos 4. 5; Quartos 
+3,, Folios read ‘ ciuil,’ and ‘ civil.’ 
+pL AzOS7, farther’; ; so Quartos 2, 4; Quarto 
+“ further *; Quarto 3, Folios 1, 2, 3, ‘ Fa- 
+Hiene b Folio 4, ‘ Father’s.’ 
+I. i. 127. * drave me to walk abroad’; 
+(from Quarto 1};°° 
+
+
+2, 
+
+
+Pope 
+drew me from company ’; 
+
+
+Theobald, “drew me to walk abroad.’ 
+
+' I. i. 134. ‘Which then most sought where 
+most might not be found’; Pope (from Quarto 
+2 es That most are busied, when they’re most 
+alone’; Keightley, ‘ Which there . ; ” &c. 
+Herr conjectured “Which then most sought 
+where many 7; Allen conjectured 
+
+
+“which then most sought where more 
+
+Tr i. 1595 * Sun “= Theobald’s emendation of 
+Quartos and Folios, * same.’ 
+
+Ae ae ra7Bs see pathways to his will’ 
+ton conjectured 
+Hanmer, ‘. ot all.’ 
+
+c.>.3: 191. “Why such is’; Seymour con- 
+jectured ‘Why such is, merely’ Collier MS., 
+" Why such, Benvolio, is’; Mommsen conjec- 
+tured * Why, such, Benvolio, such is? ; Keight- 
+ley, ‘ Why, gentle cousin, such ts” ; Orger con- 
+jectured ° Why, such a love is.’ 
+
+I. i. 196. ‘ raised’; Pope’s correction (from 
+Quarto 1); Quartos, Folios, ‘ made. 
+
+I. i. 208. ‘ Bid a sick man in sadness make’; 
+so (Quarto 1) Quartos 4, 5; Quartos 2, Ze 
+Folio 1, read ‘ A sicke man in sadnesse makes’; 
+Folios (2s 3s 45 “A sitke mon in good sadnesse 
+makes* 
+
+
+; Staun- 
+“set pathways to our will’; 
+
+
+I. i, 217. ‘ From love’s weak childish bow she 
+hives unharm’d’; Grant White conjec 
+"MAREE vate S encharm’d *; Quartos. Folios, 
+“yncharmd’; Collier MS., « Sackarerae 
+
+i, 222. ? with beauty dies ker store’ mY Theo- 
+
+bald reads ‘with her dies Beauty's Store’; 
+Keightley, “with her dies beauty store.’ : 
+
+a ii. 15. ‘ She ts the hopeful lady -of as ¥ 
+
+
+earth’; Johnson conjectured * She is the hope 
+and stay of my full years. ; 
+Theo- 
+
+
+. li. 25. ‘made dark heaven light’; 
+bald reads ‘make dark heaven's light’; War- 
+burton, ‘ make dark even light’; Jackson con- 
+
+
+jectured “ mask dark heaven's light ?: Daniel ~- 
+conjectured | * mock dark heaven’s light? 
+
+
+| Ree 26. ‘young men’; Johnson conjectured — 
+* yeomen.” x 
+I. ii. 32. ‘Which on more view? &e.: so 
+Quartos 4, 5; Quartos 2, 3, Folios, * one’ for 
+
+
+“on’; (Quarto 1), “ Such, amongst view 
+many myne being ene perhaps we sh 
+read with Mason, ‘Whilst on more view of — 
+many, mine being one’ j; many readings have a 
+been ee 
+
+I, iii. . ‘Shake, quoth the dove-house’ 
+referring ES the effects of the earthquake: © 
+Daniel conjectured * goeth” for ‘ quoth.” 
+
+I. iii. 66, 67. ‘honour’; Pope’s emendation 
+(from Quarto pale Quartos, Folios, ‘ houre’ and 
+© hour’ 
+
+iat. 39. (The game was ne’er so fair, and — 
+
+am done’ “an allusion to an old pro- 
+verbial © saying which advises to give over when 
+the seme is at the fairest” (Ritson). 
+
+
+Fi “gan our hoste for to jape and pleve, 
+ind seyde, sirs, what! 
+3 is in the myre!” 
+
+
+proverbial expression originally used in an 
+Tural sport, and meaning, “we are all at 
+Standstill!” or, “let us make an effort to 
+on” (vide Prof. Skeat’s Notes to Can- 
+
+
+“Or saue you reuerence loue fe 
+2, 3, “Or saue your reuerence loue.’ 
+
+
+on reads ( burne our it 
+ Lampes day’; 
+’ hts a1 
+
+
+Quartos, 
+
+
+* Maid a 
+milk-maid. 
+
+
+Ade 
+lor’s” 
+
+
+» “Of hiles? 
+untangling of which. 4 
+iv. 103. ‘Face’; 
+
+
+ie ke 
+‘Quarto 
+
+
+Lv. 19. ‘Will have a bout’; (Quarto 1); 
+2 { about ’ ; Quartos, Folios, ‘ wii] 
+uke about’; Pope, “we'll have a bout ‘] 
+el, “will walke a bout.’ 
+
+47. “It seems she’; so (Quarto z5 
+, Folio 1; Folios 2, 3. 4, read ‘Her 
+*; Bulloch conjectured “In streams she’ 2 
+
+
+Pope’s reading (from 
+1); Quartos, Folios, ‘side’; Collier 
+tide.” 
+
+
+iL. i, 10. ‘pronounce’; Quartos 2, 3, ‘ prou- 
+it’; Folio 1, ‘Prouant’; Folios Pa Ses 
+7; Rowe, ‘ couple.’ 
+. 1. 13. ‘trim,’ Steevens (from Quarto 1); 
+ttos, Folios, ‘ true.’ 
+Ti 13. ‘ Young Adam Cupid, he that shot 
+im”; all the early editions read ‘ Abraham 
+3, Theobald conjectured ‘ auborn’; Up- 
+“Adam, referring to Adam Bell, the 
+ous archer. It must be borne in mind, 
+> that ‘ Abram,’ ‘ Abraham,’ was a reg- 
+corrupt form of auburn, formerly often 
+ne , abron. 
+ii. 41-42. ‘nor any other part Belonging 
+a 6. be some other name!’ Malone’s 
+ation; Pope (from Quarto 1) reads 
+my other part’; Quartos. Folios, ‘O be 
+other name Belonging to a man.’ 
+44. “ name,’ so Pope (from Quarto i); 
+tos, Folios, ‘ word.’ : 
+ii. 61. ‘ fair maid, if either thee dislike ze 
+Folios; Pope (from Quarto 1) 
+ids ‘fair saint . . . displease’; Theobald. 
+Saint . . . dislike’; Grant White. ‘ fair 
+d . . . displease’; Anon. conjectured ‘ fair 
+id. . . mislike. 
+107. “blessed moon I swear’; so 
+1) Quartos; Folios read ‘moon J] 
+
+
+. “suit ; so Quarto 5; Quarto 4, 
+Quartos 2, 3, Folios, ‘ strife.’ : 
+189. ‘ father’s cell’; Capell’s reading 
+
+
+/ $i. Ce. Chaucer’s Manciple’s Pro- 
+
+
+bury Tales, Vol. v. p. 435-6). 
+Seeeeee es (OF. this sir-reverence love’; 
+Singer’s emendation from (Quarto 1): Quartos 
+
+
+Folios 
+
+
+T._iv. 45. Capell’s emendation: (Quarto 1x) 
+
+“W ights by night, like 
+“We waste our 
+
+im vaine, lights lights by day *; Folios, 
+£s wast our lights in vaine, lights, lights, 
+Pope’s reading (from 
+© 1); Quartos, Folio 1, ‘ man *; Folios 
+ES 4, “woman *; Ulrici (from Collier MS.), 
+
+
+iy. 77 * Courtier’s’; Pope (from Quarto 
+" Theobald conjectured 
+
+
+iy. 85. “Of healths’; Thrilby conjectured 
+Mf delves” ; Keightiev conjectured ‘ Trenches = 
+
+
+a * Untangled’; ‘which once u.’, the 
+
+
+close cell”; Folios 1, 2, ‘ Fries close cell!’ 
+Il. ii. 1-4. Omitted in Folios ge oe 
+ili. 4. “day's path and Titan’s 
+
+
+Titan’s wheels’ 
+
+
+1); _Quartos, Folios, £ weake.’ 
+
+
+skain, skein, ‘as if associated 
+yarns’ (or skain’s — 
+dagger; ‘as if a brother in arms eh 
+
+
+Quartos 2, 3; Quartos 4.05) 
+
+
+Cc. 
+TEES 358: “ kinsman,’ Ca 
+
+
+(Quarto 1); Quarto 5, other texts, ‘ cousin.’ 
+
+
+25-36° 43 able? 
+1th 3. 
+Quartos, Folios, read ‘ hearts’; 
+“heats”; Johnson, ‘ hearts’? 
+Ill. ii. 6. ‘ That runaways’ eyes may wink 
+
+
+Pages of Furness’ 2 
+Quartos and Folios do not mark the possessive, 
+and scholars are divided on the subject of 
+the singular or plural possessive. The Cam- 
+bridge editors evidently make “runaways? — 
+cunagates, night-prowlers. The present editor 
+cannot bring himself to believe that Shakespeare 
+intended this reading, and would fain substitute 
+“ Runaway’s* in the sense of ‘ Day’s’; ‘ Ran. 
+away’ may have belonged to the playful phrase- 
+ology of Elizabethan girls, and savours of the 
+expressive language of children’s rhymes. 
+
+Ill. ii. 66. ‘ dear-loved *; Pope’s reading 
+(from Quarto 1); Quartos, Folios, read ‘ dear 
+est.” 
+
+SEC I-76: “ Dove-feather’'d raven *> -Theo- 
+bald’s emendation - of Quartos 2, 3, Folio i, 
+“ Rauenous douefeathered Rauen’; Quartos 4 
+5> Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘ Rauenous doue, feathred 
+Rauen.’ 
+
+Il. ii. 79. ‘damned saint "3 so Quartos 
+4,_5, Folios 2, 3, 4; Quartes 2, 3, * dimme 
+Saint’; Folio 1, ‘ dimne saint’ 
+
+Ill. iii. 52. ‘Thou fond mad man, hear me 
+but speak a word’; Malone’s emendation (from 
+Quarto 1); Quartos 2, 3, “ Ther ford’ mad 
+man, heare me a little speake’: Quartos*4, 5, 
+“Thou fond mad man, heare me a isttle speare’: 
+Folio 1, ‘Then fond mad man, heare me 
+speake’; Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘Fond mad man, heare 
+me speake’ 
+
+III. v. 31. According to Warburton there is 
+a popular saying to this effect, due to the fact 
+that the toad has very fine eyes and the lark 
+very ugly ones. 
+
+I. v. 25. ‘below’; Pope’s zeading * from 
+(Quarto 1); Quartos, Folios, ‘so lowe.’ 
+
+IIT. v. 152. Omitted in Folies. 
+
+HII. v. 166. ‘lent’; Pope (from Quarto +) 
+reads ‘ sent’; Cowden Clarke conjectured ‘ left” 
+
+Tif. v. 177-179. So Quarto 2 and the other 
+Quartos; Quarto : reads:— 
+
+
+“ Gods biessed mother wife it mads me, 
+Day, night, early, late, at home. abroad. 
+
+
+1376 
+
+
+(from-Quarto 1); Quartos, Folios 3, 4, ‘ Frier: 
+
+
+wheels’; Malone’s reading (from Quarto 1); 
+Quartos, Folio 1, ‘ day’s path, and Titans bury. 
+ig wheels’; Pope, ‘ day’s pathway, made by 
+
+
+ili. 23. ‘small,’ so Pope from (Quare 
+
+
+> I. iv. 162. ‘I am none of his skains-mates*; 
+‘ skains-mates ? occurs nowhere else, its origir 
+1S uncertain; it is Perhaps connected with 
+in winding 
+gen. of skain, skean — 
+
+Il. vi. 34. ‘sum up sum of half my*; se 
+
+a ) Summe up some oF 
+ae my”; Folios, ‘sum up some of halfe iy” 
+pell’s reading from 
+x Ul. i171. “ agile’; (Quarto 1) Quartos 4, s, 
+agill’ ; Quartos 2, 3, Folio 1, ‘aged’; Folios 
+
+
+193. “hate’s’; Knight's emendation; 
+Hanme;z, 
+
+
+an epitome of the various interpretations o¢ 
+these words filling no less than twenty-eight 
+Variorum edition; the 
+
+
+Alone, in company, waking or sleeping, 
+Stull my care hath been to seé her. matcht.” 
+
+
+Many attempts have been made to smooth the | 
+lines, but perhaps they express Capulet’s excite- 
+ment. 
+
+III. v. 182. ‘ train’d’; Capell’s reading (from 
+Quarto 1); Quartos 3, 4, 5, Folios ‘allied’; 
+Quarto 2, ‘ liand’; &c. ' 
+
+_ IV. 1. 3. ‘nothing slow to slack his haste’; 
+Collier conjectured ‘something slow,’ &c.; 
+
+uarto 1, ‘ nothing slack to slow his haste’; 
+Fohrson conjectured ‘ nothing slow to back his 
+hast 
+
+IV. i. 16. Omitted in 
+
+TV. i450 “eure... so (¢ 
+Quartos 2, 3, 4, Folios, / 
+
+y Bile 115- 116. 
+thy waking ’; 
+omitted 
+
+
+uartos, Folios. 
+uarto 1) Quarto 5; 
+care.” 
+
+
+in Folios. 
+Vv. 107-408, sO) play me some merry 
+dump, to comfort me’; the reading of Quartos; 
+omitted in Folios. 
+VY. v. 128-130. These lines are from Richard 
+Edwards’ Paradise of Dainty Devises, 1576. 
+
+V. ut o1. ‘flattering truth’; so Quartos, 
+Folios; Malone following tOnakte 1) reads 
+
+
+Timon of Athens—Notes 
+
+
+I. i. 21.“ gum, which oozes’ } Johnson’s read- 
+ing; Folios read ‘ grown, which uses’; Pope, 
+“gum which issues.’ 
+
+[. i. 24-25. ‘flies Each bound it chafes’; 
+Folios, ‘chases’; Becket conjectured ‘ flies. 
+Eéhe (bound) it chafes’; Schmidt ‘ chafes 
+alee 
+
+T. i. 30-31. “ grace Speaks his own Standing ’; 
+Johnson conjectured ‘ standing graces’ 
+or ‘grace Speaks understanding’; Mason con- 
+jectured ‘Grace Speaks its own standing’; 
+Jackson conjectured “grace Speaks! ’tis one 
+standing” ; Orger conjectured ‘ grace 
+ale 
+
+ea: ‘ happy man? ; Theobald’s emenda- 
+tion of "Folios, * happy men? 
+
+ret arr! sea of wat’; Bailey conjectured 
+“sweep of taxing’ ; Collier Ms. ‘ sea of verse’; 
+&e.; but there is evidently a reference to 
+writing-tablets covered with wax. 
+wd. 2.087. ‘ slip’; Folios, ‘ sit’ 
+jectured “sink.” 
+
++ f. i. 129, The line is supposed by some to be 
+corrupt, and many emendations have been pro- 
+posed, but Coleridge’s interpretation commends 
+
+
+Delius con- 
+
+
+itself:—‘* The meaning of the first line the poet 
+himself explains, or rather unfolds, in the 
+second. ‘The man is honest! ’—True; and 
+
+
+for that very cause, and with no additional or 
+extrinsic motive, he wiil be so. No man can be 
+justly called honest, who is not so for honesty’s 
+sake, ‘itself including its teward.” 
+
+I. t. 24a. ‘ That J had no angry wit to be a 
+Tasha Blackstone conjectured ‘Angry that I 
+had tro twit, —to be a lord’; Malone conjec- 
+tured “That I had no angry wit.—To be a 
+Jord!’; Anon. conjectured ‘That I had no 
+Caples wit than be a lord’; Warburton, ‘ That 
+I had so hungry a wit to be a lord’; Heath 
+conjectured That. . . so wrong’d my wit to 
+be a lord’; &c., &e. 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+‘and he and I Will watch | 
+; the reading of Quartos 3, 4, 5; ! 
+
+
+‘flattering eye’; Collier MS., Pitre 
+death’; Grant White, cece sooth’; &c. — 
+
+oy le 2aae Peery you Pope’s reading: : 
+| (Quarto »D: “I dee my” ” Quartos 2.597945 a 
+| Folio Told denie you’ aiBeline Sh Ne Quarto 
+Cees ey. you.’ 4 
+j i, ‘I do beseech you, sir, have pa- 
+tience ’ 2 Pave (from Quarto 1) reads « Pardon 
+me sir, I dare not leave you thus’; Steeyens 
+(1793) reads ‘ Pardon me, sir, I will not hg A 
+you Be 
+
+&e:— 
+
+
+V. iii. 
+
+“ For many men that stumble at the Pe eehaEy AY 
+
+Are well foretold that danger lurks within”; — 
+3 Henry VI., IV. vii. 31, 12.) 
+
+
+. ‘Stumbled at graves, 
+
+
+V. iii. 169. ‘rust’; so Quartos, Folios; Haz. 
+litt (from Quarto £) reads ‘rest.’ 
+V. ili. 205. ‘it,’ 1. the dagger; so Quarto 
+
+
+2; the rest read ‘ 
+‘ eissheatwed’.: the reading of Folio 
+4; Folios 1, 2, 3) Quarto gs ‘ misheathed ’;_ | 
+Quarto 3> 4, “ missheath’'d *; Jackson conjec- 
+tured ‘ mt-sheath’d.’ , 
+
+V. iii. 211. After this line (Quarto 1) sree 
+‘and young Benvolio is deceased too.’ 
+
+
+I. 45. Alluding to the then custom 2 P 
+
+
+each guest bringing his own knife to a feast. © 
+
+I. ii. 72. ‘ sin’; Farmer conjectured * sin, 
+Singer conjectured ‘ dite’; Kinnear cones: 
+tured ‘ surfeit.’ : 
+
+. ii, 128-133. The arrangement of these’ 
+lines was first suggested by Rann, and ee 
+lowed by Steevens in his edition of 1793. 
+
+
+MP 135. “Music, make their welcom 
+Pope reads * Ret musick make their welcom 
+Capell, “Musick, make known their welcom i 
+
+ET a. ne: ‘And able horses’; so Folios 
+Folios 3, 4; “An able horse’ Theobald, 
+able horse’; Jackson conjectiieed wit 
+horses’; Collier MS., ‘a stable o” horses” 7% 
+
+
+Singer sb gaara or Two able horses.’ 
+
+
+Il. i. “found his state in safety’; 
+mer’s Sue Folios, ‘sound . . .’; 
+«found on safety’ ; Capell conject 
+‘find . um safety.” ‘ 
+
+If, “Was to be’; Heath conjectured 
+‘Was made to be’; Long MS. ‘Was’; Mason 
+conjectured “ Was formed ’; ; Singer Ms,‘ Was 
+truly’ fe Collier MS., ‘Was “surely? es: 
+
+2 TENS “ mistress’ (so 1. 107). eo 
+
+II. if. rsr. ‘ loved lord’; Folios 2,, 35.04 4. 
+et low’d lord’; S. Walker conjectured ‘ *b 
+oud. 
+
+II. ii, 152. Folios read ‘ Though you h 
+
+
+now (too late) yet nowes a time, The’; Hi 
+
+
+mer, “Though - « . yet now’s too’ "tke t 
+time’ ; Collier MS., ‘ Though . . . yet now's d 
+time too late.’ : 
+
+UE Oa? 171. * wasteful cock’, Pope dese 
+‘lonely roum’ Collier MS.,  hostefal nook 
+
+
+Jackson conjectured 
+conjectured ‘wakes. couch’; Keightl 
+* wasteful cock- loft’; Daniel. conjectu 
+‘ wakeful cot’ ; Jackson’ s conjecture seems b 
+“ wakeful cock,’ i.e. ‘ cock-loft,’ unless ‘ co: 
+= wine-tap. 
+
+
+« wakeful cock *; Je 
+
+
+ese Perle 
+Sey ly : 
+NOTES 138) 
+ne a we alive that lived’; t.e. | tured ‘ only in bed’; Hudson conjectured ‘ only 
+
+
+ae ye Pabiten coin be thy damna- 
+tne old ballad, “ The Dead Man’s 
+
+
+oe ladles full of melted gold 
+ere poured down their throats.” 
+
+
+59-60. ‘ slave, Unto his honour’; 
+reading; Folios, ‘Slave wnto his 
+Pope, ‘ slave Unto this hour” > .Col- 
+“slave unto his humour’; : Staunton, 
+ve. Unto dishonour’; but the words are 
+bably spoken fronically. 
+17 11. 13. “ so many’; changed by Theobald 
+ifty? 5 So, too, in 1. 41: but the figures 
+very ‘doubtful, and ‘ fifty-five hundred 
+Ss,” in 1. 43, is “obviously a mere exaggera- 
+psa 
+. ii, 25. ‘ mistook him,’ &e., 1.2. “made the 
+ke and applied to me’; Hanmer, ‘o’er- 
+ee 3 Warburton, ‘ mislook’d ’; Johnson con 
+d ‘not mistook.’ 
+a> 53. ‘ for a little part’; Theobald, 
+ra Jittle dirt’; Hanmer, ‘a little dirt ’ 
+th conjectured * for a little proft ’; Ton: 
+conjectured “for a little park’; Mason 
+ectured ‘for a little port’; Jackson con- 
+tured ‘ for a little part’; - Bailey conjectured 
+ittle Sport’; > Kinnear conjectured ‘ for 
+le gee Steevens explains the passage 
+purchasing what brought me little 
+
+
+Theobald’s correction of 
+* Port.’ 
+; Staunton con- 
+
+
++ ii, 72. “spirit,” 
+‘ sport’ ; Collier MS 
+
+
+7 Br. * in respect of his’; 
+Saat ice’ 
+
+
+12. ‘ Thrive, give him over so 
+
+se Folios 2, 3, 4, “That thriv’d * giz 'e 
+er”; Pope, ‘Three give him over?’ 
+“Tried give him over’ Theobald, 
+
+
+rd, give him over?’; Tyrwhitt conjec- 
+Shrivd give him over: ; Johnson con- 
+ired ‘ Thrice give him over? &e. 
+
+iii. 14. ‘sense’; Collier conjectured 
+
+
+We avs 112. Finks: all:’; so Folios 
+Folio 1, ‘Sempronins Vllorxa: All’; 
+ia ‘ Semprovius: All’; Malone, ‘Sem- 
+Ullorxa, all’; ; Grant White suggested 
+Vilorsa’ jwas a misprint for ‘ Ventidius.’ 
+* behaz his anger, ere "twas 
+“behooue his . . .’3 Johnson 
+behold his adversary shent’ 
+
+eoeocd * behave, ere was his 
+3 Becket conjectured ‘ behave; his 
+"ore spent’; Hanmer, ‘behave’ in’s 
+lone conjectured ‘ behave has’ = we 
+
+
+.*5Ma 
+
+
+Co MS., ‘ reprove his , 7, ae; 
+
+pn aaa. Lay, my lords, has’ i, Pore 
+
+read ey say my lords j’as’; Folio 1, ‘Why 
+| Lords jha’s As Folios 2, 3, ‘Why I say 
+
+
+0 ha’s’; Folio 4, “Why, I say my Lords 
+Canell, Why, I say, my sess. he has’ 
+
+
+alone.” 
+
+Tig, vz ere most lands”; 
+hands’; Malone 
+Mason conjectured my Stains’ 
+jectured “most brands’; 
+“most bands.’ 
+
+Ill. vi. 37. “ harshly o’ the trumpet’s’; 
+‘harshly as o° the Trumpets’; 
+(1793), ‘harshly on the tru npet’s’; 
+aoa conjectured ‘harshly. O, 
+c 
+
+
+TIT. vi. ror. 
+Warburton, 
+ley, ‘by you 
+‘ flatteries ’ ; 
+teryl 
+
+EV: 
+
+
+“ most ‘lords’: 
+Becket con. 
+Jackson conjectured, 
+
+
+conj ectured 
+
+
+Steevens 
+Grant 
+the trumpet ‘Sa 
+
+
+“you with flatteries’; so Folios; 
+“with your fatieries Keight- 
+with flatteries’; Folio 2 reads 
+S. Walker conjectured ‘ fai- 
+
+
+py eee {27 ea 
+Folios, ‘ yet. 
+
+LV. iis. 385 “ what state compound ss, 
+Walker conjectured ‘ state comprehends’ ; afte 
+White conjectured ‘that state compounds” © 
+Watkiss Lloyd conjectured ‘ whate’er state com- 
+prehends.’ 
+
+IV. iii. 2: “deny't’; Warburton, ‘ denxude ’; 
+Hanmer, * degrade’; oe conjectured “ de- 
+prive’; Steevens conj-ctured ‘ devest’; Col- 
+her MS., * decline’ ;- &c.; the indefinite FT ae 
+refers to the implied’ noun in “ raise,’ t.e. “ give 
+elevation we 
+
+EV 2 iis or 
+‘ rother,’ 
+
+“ brothers.’ 
+4; ‘pastor’ ; 
+tured 
+
+
+i, Hanmer’s emendations of 
+
+
+§. 
+
+
+“ pasture lards the rother’s sides’; 
+Singer's emendation for Folios 
+Folio 1, *Pastour’; Folios 2, 3. 
+ese and Steevens conjec- 
+‘ pasterer’ ‘lards’ Rowe's reading. 
+Folio 1, “Lards’; > Folios oy 3 4, “Lords, 
+IV. iii. 18. “all is oblique ’; Pope’ s emenda-- 
+tion, Folio 1, ‘Alls obliquie ”; FOUuGS «2, 
+Alls obliquy’; Folio 4, ‘ All’s obliquy ’ ; Rowe, 
+“all's obloquy ’ ; Lettsom conjectured ‘ all, all’s’ 
+oblique.’ 
+
+
+Voie. 38. “wappen'd Soe SO Folios 7 nes 
+Folios 3, 4, ‘ wapen’d’ Warburton, ‘ waped ’ ; 
+Johnson conjectured | “wained’ Malone con- 
+jectured wapper'd’ Anon. conjectured. 
+‘ Wapping’; Stnevenet conjectured “ weeping '; 
+Seymour conjectured ‘vapid’; Staunton con- 
+jectured ‘woe-pin’d’; Fleay, ‘ wop-eyed’; te. 
+
+
+having waterish eyes (vide Glossary). 
+
+IV. iii. 106. “conquer my country’ ; Kinnear 
+conjectured ‘ confound my countrymen’; .Han- 
+mer, “make conquest of my county 2 ape 
+
+* conquer thy own couatry’; S. Walker con- 
+jectured “scourge thy country’; Hudson, 
+
+“ scourge my country.” 
+
+IV. SalicgnrG, ‘ window-bars’ ; 
+jectured; Folios, “window Bares Pope, ‘ win- 
+dow-barn’; W. arburton, * window- lawn’; Tyr- 
+whitt conjectured * widow's barb.’ 
+
+lil, 153. “ spurring’; Hanmer, * sbar- 
+ring’; Long MS., “Spurning ’> Seymour con- 
+jectured “ springing’; there is no need to 
+
+
+emend the text. 
+IV. iit 215. ‘ bade *; Folio 1, ‘bad’; Folios 
+“when’; S. Walker conjec- 
+
+
+Johnson con- 
+
+
+2, 3s 4). = 
+TM. Pte» 226. 
+
+
+yce, hy, I sa lords, Globe tured ‘ where.’ 
+A hp fare te ee: IV. iii. 243. * Outhues incertain ” Rowe's 
+v. 102, “And, not to swels our spirit’ | emendation; Folio 1 reads “UerGven: incer- 
+e. ‘not to swell our spirit with anger, not to| taine’; Folios 2, 3, 4, “ Out- lives: in certaine” 
+me exasperated ’; Theobald, “And note, to} Hanmer, “ Out-strips incertain’; Capell, ‘ Out. 
+H your | spirit"; Capell. “And, not to swell | vies uncertain.’ 
+spirit’; ; Singer, “ quell’ ; Kinnear, © quail.’ IV. iii. 354 “drugs”; ; Folios ie 2s ‘ drugges’; 
+105. “Only in bone,’ te. “as a ‘age Mason conjectured “drudges’: Collier Do 
+; _Staunton conjectured © Only ‘ dugs’; apell conjectured "MS. dregs”; 
+* or ‘Only in doors’; Ingleby hal ‘drugs’ = “drudges.’ 
+
+
+; Rowe,” 
+
+
+; Warburton, ‘most - 
+
+
+he, 
+
+
+ee oe 
+
+
+= Se - 
+eee ot 
+
+
+FSA ee 
+
+
+£362 
+
+
+{V. iii. 283. “my’; Rowe’s correction of 
+folios, ‘ thy. 
+TV. iii. rer ‘after his means,’ i.e. 
+Ais means were gone.’ " 
+IV. iti. 419. ‘ meat’; Theobald, ‘meet’ (te. 
+“what you ought to be’); Hanmer, ‘ men’; 
+Steevens conjectured ‘me’; &c. 
+
+
+‘ after 
+
+
+TV. iii, 420-424. ‘Behold, the earth hath 
+roots, &c.; cp. Hall’s Satires, II]. 1 (pub. 
+£598) — 
+
+“Time was that, whiles the autumn full did 
+
+last : J 
+
+Our hungry sires gap’d for the falling mast, 
+&e. 
+
+
+IV. iii. 437. ‘villany’; Rowe’s correction of 
+Rolios 1, 2, ‘ ztllaine.’ 
+
+TV. tii. 443. ‘moon’; Theobald, ‘ mounds’; 
+Capell, ‘ earth’; Tollet conjectured ‘ main.’ 
+
+TV. iii. 499. ‘dangerous nature mild’; 
+Thirlby conjectured; Folios, ‘wild’; Becket 
+cotjectured ‘nature dangerous-wild’; Jackson 
+conjectured ‘ dolorous nature wild.’ 
+
+V. i, 47. ‘ black-corned’d,’ i.e. ‘ hiding things 
+in dark corners’; Hanmer, ‘ black-corneted ’; 
+Warburton conjectured ‘ black-cornette ’; Farm- 
+er conjectured MS. ‘ black-coroned’; Mason 
+conjectured ‘ black-crowned’; Jackson conijec- 
+tured ‘dark-horned’; Singer conjectured, 
+“ black-curtain’d,’ &e. 
+
+V. t. 116. ‘You have work’; so Folios; 
+Hanmer, ‘You have work’d’; Malone, “ You 
+
+
+.t reads ‘remedied to your’; Folios 2, 3, 
+
+
+have done work’; Steevens conjectured 
+“You've work’d’ 
+
+V. i. 136. ‘as a cauterizing’; Rowe’s emen- 
+dation; Folio 1.‘ as a Cantherizsing'; Folios 2, 
+
+4, “as a Catherizing’; Pope, ‘ cauterizing ’; 
+Eapell, “ cancerising.’ 
+
+V. 1.147. ‘ general, gross:’ Pope’s emenda- 
+tion of Folios, ‘ generall grosse:’ S. Walker’s 
+
+
+Julius Caesar—Notes 
+
+
+I. i. 26. ‘ with awl. 1’; Folios, ‘ withal I’; 
+the correction was made by Farmer. 
+
+T. ii, 19, The line is evidently to be read 
+thus:— 
+
+
+“4 soothsay’r bids you ’ware the ides of 
+March.” 
+
+I. itv 155. ‘walls’; Rowe’s emendation of 
+Folios, ‘walkes.’ , 
+
+I, ii, 256. ‘’Tis very like: he hath’; Theo- 
+Heit emendation; Folios, ‘’Tis very like he 
+ath, 
+
+I. ii. 319. ‘He should not humour me’; te. 
+“he (Brutus) should not influence me, as I 
+have been influencing him’; others take ‘he’ 
+to refer to Cesar, and Johnson explains the 
+passage as follows:— Cesar loves Brutus, but | 
+ff Brutus and I were to change places, his 
+(Cesar’s love) should not humour me, so as! 
+to make me forget my principles.” | 
+
+I. iii, 30. ‘ These are their reasons’; Jervis} 
+conjectured ‘These have their seasons’; Col- 
+lier MS., ‘ These are the seasons.’ 
+
+I. iii. 65. ‘Why old men fool and’; Mit- 
+ford conjectured; Folios, ‘Why old men. 
+
+
+| Steevens conjectured ‘line of c.’; Mason con-— 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+rites 
+
+
+conjecture, adopted by Dyce, ‘ general-gross.’ 
+V. i. 213. ‘haste’; Pope, ‘taste’; Warbur- _ 
+tion conjectured MS., ‘ tatch’; Collier MS... tS 
+“ halter.’ a. 
+V. ii. 7. ‘whom,’ instead of ‘who,’ owing - 
+to confusion of construction; Pope, ‘Who’; 
+Hanmer, ‘And’; Singer, ‘When’; &c. 
+V. ii. 8. ‘made a particular force’; Hanmer — 
+reads ‘ had . force’; Staunton conjectured 
+‘ took truce’; Bailey conjectured.‘ had_ 
+. force with’; &e. <ay 
+V. iii. 3-4. These words are in all probability 
+the- reflection of the soldier; this view is cer- 
+tainly more acceptable than to believe them to 
+be an inscription placed by Timon somewhere 
+near the tomb. Nor is it necessary, with War- 
+burton, to change ‘read’ into ‘rear’d. The 
+soldier, seeing the tomb, infers that Timon is 
+dead, but he cannot read the inscription; | 
+“some beast read this! there does not live a 
+man able to do so’ (v. Preface). . 
+V. iv. 28. ‘Shame, that they wanted cun- 
+ning, in excess’; Theobald’s emendation (‘ ex- 
+treme shame for their folly in banishing you 
+
+
+hath broken their hearts’); Folio 1 _teads 
+“(Shame that they wanted, cunning in ezx- 
+cesse)’ ; Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘Shame (that they 
+
+
+wanted cunning in excesse)’; Johnson conjec- 
+tured ‘Shame that they wanted, coming in 
+excess.’ my 
+V. iv. 62. ‘render’d to your’; the con- 
+jecture of Chedworth,’ adopted by Dyce;-Folio 
+> 
+‘remedied by your’; Pope, ‘ remedied byte 
+Johnson, ‘remedied to’; Malone, ‘ remedy'd, 
+to your’; Singer (ed. 2), ‘remitted to your.’ { 
+V. iv. 79. ‘On thy low grave, on faults for- — 
+given. Dead’; the reading of Folios; Theo- | 
+bald reads ‘On thy low grave.—On: faults for- } 
+given.—Dead’; Hanmer, ‘On thy low grave — 
+our faults—forgiz’n, since dead.’ al 
+
+
+Fools, and’; Blackstone conjectured ‘Why old — 
+men fools, and.’ ie 
+I. ili. 129. ‘In favour’s like’; Johnson reads 
+“In favour’s, like’; Folios 1, 2, ‘Is Fauors, 
+like’; Folios 3. 4. ‘Is Favours, like’; Rowe, 
+“Is feav’rous, like’; Capell, ‘Is favour’d like’; 
+&e. &e. ve 
+II. i. fo. ‘the ides of March’; Theobald 
+correction of Folios, ‘ the first of March.’ < 
+II. i. 83. ‘For if thou path, thy native sem- 
+blance on’; so Folio 2; Folios r, 3, 4s “ora 
+if thou path thy .’; Pope, ‘ For if thou 
+march, thy . . .’; Singer conjectured ‘ For — 
+if thow put’st thy . . .’ &e.: but there i no- 
+
+
+ta 
+
+
+need to improve on the reading of Folio 2. 
+
+
+ID. ti. “or9.. “fights so.” “Roliossenanyc 
+‘fought’; Keightley, ‘ did fight.’ 
+
+II. ii. 46. ‘are’; Upton conjectured; Folios 
+1, 2, ‘heare’; Folios 3, 4, ‘hear’; Rowe, — 
+
+
+‘heard’; Theobald, ‘ were.’ 
+Til. i. 39. ‘law of children’; Johnson’s 
+emendation of Folios, ‘lane of children ey: 
+
+
+jectured ‘play of c.’ Mr. Fleay approves of — 
+the Folio reading, and explains ‘/ane’ in the 
+sense of ‘narrow conceits’; he compares the 
+
+
+ie 
+
+
+NOTES 1383 
+following lines from Jonson’s Staple of | Folios; Pope, “exempt from malice’; Capell. 
+News :— ‘no strength of malice’; Seymour, “ reproof 
+= , of malice’; Collier MS:, adopted by Craik, 
+“A narrow-minded man! my thoughts do| ‘in strength of welcome ’; Badham conjectured 
+
+dwell “unstring their malice,’ &c. If any emendation 
+
+All in a lane.” is necessary, Capell’s suggestion commends 
+itself most; but ‘in strength of malice’ may 
+
+Hil. i. 47, 48. ‘Know, Ce@sar, doth not| mean ‘in the intensity -of their hatred to 
+
+
+wrong, nor without’ cause Will he be satis- 
+fied’; there is an interesting piece of literary 
+history connected with these lines. In Ben 
+Jonson’s Sylva or Discoveries occurs the fa- 
+mous criticism on Shakespeare, where Jonson, 
+after. speaking of his love for Shakespeare, 
+“on this side of idolatry, expresses a wish 
+“that he had blotted more.’’”? ‘“ His wit was 
+in his own power; would the rule of it had 
+been so too! Many times he fell into those 
+things could not escape laughter: as when he 
+said in the person of Cesar, one speaking to 
+him, ‘ Cesar, thou dost me wrong,’ he replied, 
+“Cesar did never wrong but with just cause,’ 
+and such like; which were ridiculous. But 
+he redeemed his vices with his virtues. There 
+was ever more in him to be praised than to 
+be pardoned.”” Again in his Staple of News 
+(acted 1625), a character says, ‘‘Cry you 
+mercy, you never did wrong, but with just 
+cause.” From these references it is inferred 
+that in its original form the passage stood 
+thus :— 
+
+
+_ “Mertettus. Cesar, thou dost me wrong. 
+Carsar. Know, C@sar doth not wrong, but 
+with just cause, 
+Nor without cause will he be satis- 
+fied.” 
+
+
+It is impossible to determine whether Jonson 
+misquoted, or whether (as seems more likely) 
+his criticism effected its purpose, and the lines 
+were changed by Shakespeare or by his editors. 
+
+Il. i. 77. ‘Et tu, Brute’; according to Plu- 
+
+
+tarch, Cesar called out in Latin to Casca, 
+*“O vile traitor, Casca, what doest thou?’ 
+- Suetonius, however, states that Cesar ad- 
+
+
+dressed Brutus in Greek:—‘‘‘xa) ov, texvov,” 
+tie. “and thou, tuo, my son.’ The words ‘ Et 
+tu, Brute,’ proverbial in Elizabethan times, 
+must have been derived from the Greek; they 
+are found in at least three works published 
+earlier than Julius Cesar:—(i.): Eedes’ Latin 
+play, C@saris interfecti, 1582; (ji.) The True 
+Tragedie of Richard, Duke of York, 1595; 
+Gii.) Acolastus, his Afterwitte, 1600. In 
+Cesar’s Legend, Mirror for Magistrates, 1587, 
+these lines occur:— 
+
+
+“O this, quoth I, is violence: then Cassius 
+pierced my breast; 
+
+And Brutus thou, my son, quoth I, whom 
+erst I loved best.” 
+
+
+III. i. 105-110. These lines are given to 
+Casca by Pope. | aril 
+Til. i. 174. ‘in strength of malice’; so 
+
+
+Cesar’s tyranny,’ and this, as Grant White 
+points out, suits the context. 
+
+ATT: i 262. “limbs of men’; so Folios; Han 
+mer, “kind of men’; Johnson conjecturea 
+
+lives of’ or ‘lymmes of men ’; Jackson, ‘ imps 
+of men’; Collier MS., adopted by Craik, ‘ loins 
+of men’; Bulloch, ‘limbs of Rome,’ &c. 
+
+III. ii. 254. ‘On this side Tiber’; Theobald 
+Proposed ‘that’ for ‘this’; Czsar’s gardens 
+were on the left bank of the river. Shake- 
+speare followed North’s Plutarch, and North 
+merely translated the words in Amyot, 
+
+_ IV. i. 37. ‘ abjects, orts’; Staunton’s read. 
+ing; Theobald, ‘ abject orts’; Folios, * Obiects, 
+Arts’; Becket conjectured “abject arts’; 
+Gould conjectured ‘ objecis, orts.’ 
+
+; IV. i. 44. ‘our means stretch’d; Folio 1, 
+our meanes stretcht’; Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘and 
+our best meanes stretcht out’; Johnson, ‘ our 
+best means stretcht’; Malone, ‘our means 
+stretch’d to the utmost.’ 
+
+IV. ii. 50, 52. Craik’s suggestion that ‘ Lu- 
+cilius’ and ‘ Lucius’ have been transposed in 
+these lines*has been accepted by many Editors. 
+The Cambridge editors are of opinion that 
+the error is due to the author and not to a 
+transcriber, and have, therefore, not tampered 
+with the text, F 
+
+IV. iii. 129. Cp. “ This Phaonius : 
+came into the chamber, and with a certain 
+scofing and mocking gesture, which he coun- 
+terfeited of purpose, he rehearsed the verses 
+which old Nestor said in Homer ’’:— 
+
+
+“My lords I pray you hearken both to me, 
+For I have seen ‘more years than suchie 
+three.” 
+
+
+(North’s Plutarch). 
+
+IV. iii. 133. ‘vilely’; so- Folio 4; Folios 1, 
+2, ‘vildely’; Folio 3, ‘ vildly,’ 
+
+V. i. 20. ‘I will do so,’ i.e. ‘I will do as 
+you wish, and keep on the left’; according 
+to some Editors, the words may mean ‘J 
+will not wrangle, but will have my way.’ 
+
+V. i. 53. ‘three and thirty’; Theobald, 
+“three and twenty’ (the number given in 
+Plutarch). 
+
+V. iii. 99. ‘The last’; Rowe unnecessarily 
+suggested, ‘Thou last’; but cp. North's Plu- 
+tarch, “‘he (Brutus) lamented the death of 
+Cassius, calling him the last of all the Romans.” 
+
+V. v. 33. ‘Farewell to thee too, Strato> 
+Countrymen’; Theobald’s emendation of Fo: 
+lios, ‘ Farewell to thee, to Strato, Country- 
+men.” 
+
+V.v. 71. ‘in a general honest thought And’; 
+Collier MS., adopted by Craik, reads ‘mm a 
+generous honest thought Of.’ 
+
+
+1384 5 NOTES 
+Macbeth—Notes 
+I. i. 1. Perhaps we should follow the punc- 
+
+
+tuation of the Folio, and place a note of 
+interrogation after ‘ again,’ 
+
+I. ii. 14. ‘damned quarrel’; Johnson’s, per- 
+haps unnecessary, emendation of Folios, 
+“damned quarry’ (cp. IV. iii. 206); but Holin- 
+shed uses ‘ quarrel” in the corresponding pas- 
+sage. 
+
+I. ii, 20-21. Many emendations and_ inter- 
+pretations have been advanced for this pas- 
+sage; Koppel’s explanation (Shakespeare Stu- 
+dien, 1896) is as follows:—‘‘he faced the 
+slave, who never found time for the prelim- 
+inary formalities of a duel, t.e. shaking hands 
+with and bidding farewell to the opponent ’’; 
+seemingly, however, ‘ which’ should have ‘ he’ 
+(te. Macbeth) and not ‘slave’ as its ante- 
+cedent. 
+
+I. tii. 15. ‘And the very ports they blow’; 
+Johnson conjectured ‘various’ for ‘very’; 
+Pope reads ‘ points’ for ‘ ports’; Clar, Press 
+edd. ‘ orts’; * blow =‘blow upon.’ 
+
+I. iii. 32. ‘weir? ’; Folios, ‘ weywerd’ (prob, 
+=‘weird’); Keightley, ‘weyard.’ ; 
+
+I. iii, 97-98. ‘As thick as hail Came post’; 
+Rowe’s emendation; Folios read ‘As thick as 
+tale Can post.’ 
+
+I. v. 24-26. The difficulty of these lines arises 
+from the repeated words ‘that which’ in line 
+25, and some editors have consequently placed 
+the inverted commas after ‘undone’; but 
+“that which’ is probably due to the same ex- 
+pression in the previous line, and we should 
+perhaps read ‘and that’s which’ or ‘and that’s 
+what.’ 
+
+I. vi. 4. ‘ wartlet’; Rowe’s emendation of 
+Folios, ‘ Barlet.’ 
+
+I. vi. 5. ‘loved mansionry’; Theobald’s 
+emendation of Folios, ‘/oved mansoury’; Pope 
+(ed. 2), ‘loved masonry.’ 
+
+
+I. vi. 6. ‘ju'ty, frieze’; Pope, ‘ jutting 
+frieze’; Staunton conjectured ‘jutty, nor 
+frieze,’ &c. 
+
+I. vi. 9. ‘most’; Rowe’s emendation of Fo- 
+
+
+lios, ‘must’; Collier MS. ‘ much.’ 
+
+I. vii. 6. ‘shoal’; Theobald’s emendation of 
+Folios 1, 2, ‘ schoole.’ 
+
+I. vii. 45. ‘Like the poor cat. i’ the adage’; 
+“The cat would eat fyshe, and would not wet 
+her feete,’ Heywood’s Proverbs; the lew Latin 
+form of the same proverb is:— 
+““Catus amat pisces, sed non vult 
+
+plantas.” 
+
+
+tingere 
+
+
+~ I. vii. 47. ‘do more’; Rowe’s emendation 
+of Folios, ‘no more.’ 
+
+Il. i. 51. ‘sleep’; Steevens conjectured 
+* sleeper,’ but no emendation is necessary; the 
+pause after ‘sleep’ is evidently equivalent to 
+a syllable. 
+
+Ul. i. 55. ‘Tarquin’s ravishing strides’; 
+Pope’s emendation; Folios, ‘ Tarquins ravish- 
+ing sides. 
+
+Il. i. 56. ‘sure’; Pope’s conjecture, adopt- 
+ed by Capell; Folios 1, 2, ‘ sowre.’ 
+
+Il. i. 57. ‘which way they walk’; Rowe’s 
+emendation; Folios, ‘whitch they may walk.’ 
+
+II. ii. 35-36. There are no inverted commas 
+in the Folios. The arrangement in the text 
+is generally followed (similarly, ll. 42-43). 
+
+
+lin 
+
+
+‘Lives’; Staunton conjectured ‘ Loves evil? 
+
+
+III. i. 30. ‘you with the perfect spy o’ the 
+time’; Johnson conjectured ‘you with a’; 
+Tyrwhitt cenjectured ‘you with the perfect 
+spot, the time’; Beckett conjectured ‘ you 
+with the perfectry o’ the time’; Grant White, 
+from Collier MS., ‘you, with a perfect spy, 
+o” the time’; Schmidt interprets ‘spy’ to 
+mean ‘“‘an advanced guard; that time which 
+will precede the time of the deed, and indicate 
+that it is at hand’’; according to others ‘spy’ — 
+= the person who gives the information; the 
+simplest explanation is, perhaps, ‘the exact 
+spying out of the time,’ i.e. ‘the moment on’t,’ — 
+which in the text follows in apposition. 4 
+
+III. ii, 20. ‘ our peace’; so Folio 1; Folios ; 
+2, 3, 4, “our place,’ ee 
+
+Ill. iv. 14. ‘’Tis better thee without than he 
+within’; probably ‘he’ instead of ‘him’ for . 
+the sake of effective antithesis with ‘ thee’; 
+unless, as is possible, ‘he within” = ‘he in this 
+room.’ if 
+
+Ill. iv. 78. ‘time has’; Folio 1, ‘times — 
+has’; Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘times have’; the read- 
+ing of the First Folio is probably what Shake- 
+speare intended. y . 
+
+III. iv. 105-106. “If trembling I inhabit 
+then’; various emendations have been proe 
+posed, e.g, ‘I inhibit,’ = ‘me inhibit, ‘T in- 
+hibit thee,’ “I inherit,’ &c.; probably the text  __ 
+is correct, and the words mean ‘If I then 
+put on the habit of trembling,’ @e. ‘If I 
+ante myself in trembling’ (cp. Koppel, p. — fees 
+4 . Awe! 4 
+
+III. iv. 122. The Folios read:— j 
+
+“Tt will have blood they say; 
+Blood will have blood.” : 
+
+
+III. iv. 144. ‘in deed’; Theobald’s emenda- 
+tion of Folios, ‘ingeed’; Hanmer, ‘in deeds.< 
+IIL. v. 13. ‘Loves’; Halliwell conjectured . 
+
+
+III. vi. 27. “the most pious Edward’ i.e. 
+Edward the Confessor. aa AS 
+IV. i. 97. ‘ Rebellion’s head’; Theobald’s 
+conjecture, adopted by Hanmer; Folios read ay 
+“Rebeltous dead’; Warburton’s conjecture, — 
+adopted by Theobald, * Rebellious head.’ os 
+IV. ii. 18. “when we are traitors And do not 
+know ourselves,’ i.e. ‘when we are accounted a 
+traitors, and do not know that we are, having — 
+no consciousness of guilt. Hanmer, ‘ know’t 
+o.’; Keightley, ‘know it ourselycs’: but no 
+change seems necessary. 5 
+IV. ii. 19-20. ‘when we hold rumour,’ &c.; - 
+te. “when we interpret rumour in accordance _ 
+with our fear, yet know not exactly what it is 
+we fear.’ : 
+IV. ii, 22. ‘Each way and move’; Theo- 
+hald conjectured ‘Each way and wave’; Ca. 
+pell, “And move each way’; Steevens -con- 
+jectured ‘ And each way move’; Johnson con- 
+jectured “Each way, and move —’; Jackson — 
+cenjectured ‘Each wail and moan’; Ingleby 
+conjectured ‘Which way we move’; Anony- 
+mous conjecture, ‘And move each wave’; 
+Staunton conjectured ‘Each sway and move ee 
+Daniel conjectured ‘Each way it moves’; 
+Camb. edd. conjectured ‘ Each way and none’: 
+perhaps ‘Each way we move’ is the simplest 
+
+reading of the words. 
+
+
+71. ‘do worse, i.e. “let her and 
+- er hildren be destroyed without warning ”’ | 
+(Johnson) ; (Hanmer, ‘do less’; Capell, ‘do 
+
+
+Pav iii, 15. ‘ deserve’; Warburton’s emenda- 
+, adopted by Theobald; Folios ng ey ‘ dis- 
+fy) Folios,’ 4, “ discern’; , ‘and 
+there is some corruption of text 
+here, probably a line has dropped out. Han- 
+yt feads ‘’tis wisdom’; Steevens conjectured 
+
+
+Wa emg ig A A IU PN Sd 
+1385 
+il) 272 ‘cheer’; Percy’s conjecture, 
+Diocwed by Dyce, | chhiny ; ‘ disseat,’ 
+
+
+Jennens’s and Capel!’ s conjecture, adopted by 
+
+
+Steevens; Folio 1, “ dis-eate’; Folios 2) 3) 4, 
+‘ disease’; ; Bailey conjectured disseise ” 
+iel conjectured * defeat’; ; Furness, 
+Perring conjectured * disheart,’ 
+
+V. ili, 22. ‘way of life’; Johnson ae 
+the unnecessary emendation ‘May of. life, 
+and several editors have accepted the conjec« 
+
+
+* dis-ease’ 
+
+
+d wisdom is it’; Collier conjectured * and | ture. 
+Ne.) Sy abEot an, 3 Staunton conjectured * and wis- V. iii. 44. “ stufh’d’; ; Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘ stuft’; 
+dom itis? ‘and wisdom bids’; Keightley,| Pope, ‘ full’; Steevens’s conjecture, adopted 
+Sand heiedom ‘twere.’ by Hunter, ‘foul’; Anonymous conjecture, 
+IV. iti. 111. ‘ Died every day she lived, _ fraught,” “ press'd’s Bailey conjectured 
+“dived a_life of oe mortification 2B (Delius). ‘ stain’d’; Mull conjectured “ steep’a 3 
+IV. iii. 235. ‘tune’; Rowe’s emendation of ‘stuf’; ‘so Folios 3, 4; Jackson conjectured 
+‘time.’ ‘tuft’; Collier (ed. 2), from Collier MS., 
+© sense is shut’; ;, Rowe’ s emendation hereide Keightley, “ matter’; Anonymous con 
+© sense are an ene Walker's con- jecture, ‘slough,’ ‘freight’; Kinnear conjec: 
+e, adopted by Dyce, ” ‘sense’ are shut. | tured ‘ fraugh t? 
+The reading of the Folio probably gives| V. iti. 5.‘ senna’; so Folio 4; Folio y 
+"ea! tight reading, ‘sense’ being taken as a|‘Cyme’; Folios 2, 3, ‘Caeny’; Bulloch con- 
+‘plural. jectured’‘ We ; 
+F ‘ then,’ t.e. the tnanes. V. iii. 58. 1.e, the armour, 
+fis Hamlet, Prince of Denmark—Notes 
+I. i. 63. ‘He smote the sledded Polacks on I, iii. 74. ‘ Ave of a most select and generous 
+ice’; uarto 1, Quarto 2, Folio 1, chief in that’; so Folio 1; Quarto 1, ‘are of 
+variously interpreted as ‘ Polaeks’ | a most select and general chiefe in that’; 
+
+
+auxe,’ &e.; there is very little to be said 
+st the former interpretation, unless it be 
+at ‘the ambitious Norway’ in the previous 
+ntence would lead one to expect ‘the sled- 
+d Polack,’ a commendable reading originally 
+ee by Pope. 
+
+I. i. 108-125. These lines occur in the Quar- 
+but are omitted in Folios, 
+
+i. 167. eastward,’ so Quartos; Folios, 
+#  easterne’ ; the latter reading was perhaps in 
+eM ilton’s miad, when he wrote:— 
+1 as morn her rosy steps in th’ eastern 
+chime 
+
+earth with orient 
+
+
+sowed the 
+
+
+Pati slosh; Va, 1s 
+g. ‘to’; the reading of Quartos; Fo- 
+
+
+"58-60. Omitted in Folios. ‘ 
+‘this temple’; so Quartos; Folios, 
+* fear.’ 
+
+
+” so Quartos; Folios, 
+
+
+. el eed in Quartos. 
+
+
+* particular act and place,’ so 
+Sy etioe “ peculiar sect and force.’ 
+jii. 59. Polonius’ precepts have been 
+
+
+traced back to Euphues’ advice to Philautus; 
+the similarity is certainly striking (vide Rush- 
+~ton’s Shakespeare’s Euphuism); others see in 
+the passage a reference to Lotd Burleigh’s 
+‘ten precepts,’ enjoined upon Robert Cecil 
+when about to set out on his travels (French's 
+“4 hakespeareana Genealogica, v. Furness, Vol. 
+IL, p, 239). 
+I. iii. 65. ‘ comrade’ 
+ond syllable), so Folio 
+Quarto 1), ‘ cowrazt * 
+
+
+(accented on the sec- 
+1; Quartos (also 
+
+
+Quarto 2. ‘Or of a most select and generous 
+chiefe in that’; the line is obviously incorrect; 
+the simplest emendation of the many proposed 
+is the omission of the words ‘of a’ and 
+
+
+‘ chief, which were probably due to marginal 
+corrections of ‘in’ and ‘ best’ in the previous 
+line :— 
+
+
+“Are most select and generous in that.’ 
+
+
+(Collier ‘choice’ for ‘chief’; Staunton 
+‘sheaf,’ i.e. set, clique, suggested by the 
+Euphuistic phrase ‘“‘ gentlemen of the best 
+sheaf ’’). 
+
+I. iii. 109. ‘Running,’ Collier’s conjecture; 
+Quartos, ‘Wrong’; Folio 1, ‘ Roaming’; 
+Pope, ‘ Wronging’; Warburton, ‘ Wronging ’; 
+Theobald, ‘ Ranging,’ &c. 
+
+I. iii, 130. ‘bawds’; Theobald’s emenda- 
+tion of ‘bonds,’ the reading of Quartos and 
+Folio 1. 
+
+I. iv. 17-38. Omitted in Folio 1 (also 
+Quarto 1). 
+
+I. iv. 36-38. 
+
+
+“the dram of eale 
+Doth all the noble substance of a doubt 
+To his own scandal’; 
+
+
+this famous crux has taxed the ingenuity of 
+generations of scholars, and some fifty various 
+readings and interpretations have been pro- 
+posed. 
+clear, 
+
+
+emphasizing as they do the previous 
+statement that as a man’s virtues, 
+
+
+be they 
+
+
+as pure as grace, shall in the general censttre © 
+
+
+take corruption from one particular fault, even 
+so ‘the dram of eale” reduces all the noble 
+substance to its own low level. 
+
+
+The general meaning of the words is — 
+
+
+>: >» 
+
+
+Soe ; 
+
+
+i ety Ss 
+
+
+1386 
+
+
+The difficulty of the passage lies in (i.) 
+“eale’ and (ii.) ‘doth - of a doubt’; a 
+simple explanation of (1) is that ‘eale’ — 
+‘el, te. ‘evil’ (similarly in Quarto 2, II. 
+ii. 627, ‘deale’ =‘de’tle’ = ‘devil’). The 
+chief objection to this plausible conjecture is 
+that one would expect something rather more 
+definite than ‘dram of evil’; it is said, how- 
+ever, that ‘ eale’ is still used in the sense of 
+‘reproach’ in the western counties. ‘Theobald 
+proposed ‘base,’ probably having in mind the 
+lines in Cymbeline (III. v. 88) :— 
+
+
+“From whose so many weights of baseness 
+cannot 
+A dram of worth be drawn.” 
+
+
+-\s regards (ii.), no very plausible emendation 
+has been proposed; ‘of a doubt’ has been 
+taken to be a printer’s error for ‘ often dout,’ 
+“oft endoubt,’ ‘ offer doubt,’ ‘oft work out, 
+&c. To the many questions which these words 
+have called forth, the present writer is rash 
+enough to add one more:—Could, perhaps, 
+‘doth of a doubt’ = deprives of the benefit 
+of a doubt? Is there any instance of ‘do’ 
+in XVIth century English = ‘deprive’; the 
+usage is common in modern English slang. 
+
+I. iv. 75-78. Omitted in Folio 1. 
+
+ieivve2s) List. st, \Ojstl. so. Ouartos; 
+Folio 1, ‘ list, Hamlet, oh list.’ 
+
+II. i. The stage direction in Quartos:— 
+Enter old Polonius, with his man or two; 
+Folios, Polonius and Reynaldo; in Quarto 1, 
+Reynaldo is called Montano, hence perhaps 
+the reading of the later Quarto. 
+
+II. i. 4. ‘to make inquire’; so Quartos; 
+Folios read, ‘ you make inquiry.’ 
+
+Il. ii, 17. Omitted in Folios. 
+
+Il. ii. 73. ‘ three’; so Quarto 1 and Folios; 
+Quartos read ‘ threescore.’ 
+
+Il... di, 215-216, 244-276. 
+Folios; omitted in Quartos. 
+
+ME Metts 336-338-.0 the. "clown... ss. SEre;, 
+omitted in Quartos; vide Glossary, ‘“‘ TICKLE 
+0’ THE SERE.” 
+
+Il. ii. 346, 347. ‘I think their inhibition 
+comes by the means of the late innovation’; 
+vide PREFACE. 
+
+Il. ii. 352-379. Omitted in Quartos. 
+
+Il. ii. 354-358, cp..— 
+
+
+The reading of 
+
+
+“T saw the children of Powles last night: 
+And troth they pleas’d me pretty, pretty 
+well, 
+The apes, in time, will do it handsomely. 
+—I like the audience that frequenteth there 
+With much, applause.’ 
+Jack Drum’s Entertainment (1601). 
+
+
+II. ii. 468. ‘ 4ineas’ tale of Dido’; one 
+cannot but believe that Hamlet’s criticism of 
+the play is throughout ironical, and that the 
+speeches quoted are burlesque. ‘‘ The fancy 
+that a burlesque was intended,” wrote Cole- 
+ridge, “sinks below criticism; the lines, as 
+epic. narrative, are superb ”’; perhaps he would 
+have changed his mind, and would have recog- 
+nised them as mere parody, if he had read 
+Dido, Queen of Carthage, a play left incom- 
+plete by Marlowe and finished by Nash (cp. 
+e.g. Aet II, Sc. i, which seems to be the very 
+passage Shakespeare had in view). 
+
+II. ii. 487. Omitted in Folios, 
+
+II. ii. 496.‘ Then senseless Ilium’; 527, 
+‘mobled . - good’; omitted in Quartos. 
+
+- 
+
+
+NOTES - 
+
+
+II. it. 542. ‘ whether,’ Malone emendation; 
+Quartos, Folios, ‘where’ (t.e. ‘where = 
+whether’). 
+
+Il. ii. 564. ‘a speech of some dogen or six- 
+teen lines’; there was much throwing about 
+of brains in the attempt to find ‘these lines 
+in the play-scene in Act IIL. Se. ii. ‘* The dis- 
+cussion,” as Furness aptly puts it, “is a 
+tribute to Shakespeare’s consummate art,” and 
+the view of this scholar commends _itself— 
+viz., that “in order to give an air of probabil-~ 
+ity to what everyone would feel [otherwise] 
+highly improbable, Shakespeare represents 
+Hamlet as adapting an old play to his present 
+needs by inserting in it some pointed lines.’ 
+
+Il. ii. 617:— 
+
+
+“Hum, I have heard 
+That guilty creatures, sitting at a play,” &e., 
+
+
+vide Heywood’s Apology for Actors, where a 
+number of these stories are collected; per- 
+haps, however, Shakespeare had in mind the 
+plot of A Warning for Faire Women, a play 
+on this theme published in 1599, referring to 
+2 ane céleébre which befell at Lynn in Nor- 
+olk. 
+
+III. i. 13-14. ‘Niggard of question, but of 
+our own demands most free’; Hanmer, “ Most 
+free of our question, but to our demands most 
+niggard’; Warburton, ‘ Most free of question, 
+tut of our demands most niggard’; Collier 
+MS., ‘niggard of our question, but to our 
+demands most free.’ 
+
+III. i. 5¢. ‘to take arms against a sea of 
+troubles,’ &c.; the alleged confusion of meta- 
+phors in this passage was due to the com- 
+mentator’s ignorance, not to Shakespeare’s; 
+vide Glossary, ‘take arms.’ 
+
+III. i. 79, 80:— 
+
+
+“The undiscovered country from whose bourne 
+No traveller returns.” 
+
+
+In Catullus’ Eleg on a Sparrow, occur the 
+words :— 
+
+
+“Qui -nune it per iter tenebricosum _ 
+Illuc unde negant redire quenquam.” _ 
+
+
+III. i. 148. ‘ paintings’; so (Quarto 1) Quar- 
+tos; Folio 1, ‘ pratlings’; Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘ prat- 
+ling’; Pope, ‘painting’; Macdonald conjec- 
+tured ‘ prancings.’ 
+
+III. ii. 36. ‘nor man’; so Quartos; Folios, 
+“or Norman,’ 
+
+
+III, ii. 49. There is a striking passage in — 
+
+
+Quarto 1, omitted in Quarto 2 and Folio, con- 
+cerning those ‘that keep one suit of jests, as 
+a man is known by one suit of apparell’; the 
+lines have a Shakespearian note, and are prob- 
+ably of great interest. 
+
+IIT. ii. 145. Much has been said to explain 
+the introduction of the dumb-show; from the 
+historical point of view its place in a court- 
+play is not surprising, vide Glossary, ‘ Dum 
+SuHow.’ 
+
+TIT it. 77. Phe 
+Quarto is:— 
+
+
+reading of the Folios; 
+
+
+“ For women feare. too much, 
+love, 
+And women’s fear and love holds quantity.” 
+
+
+even as they 
+
+
+Johnson believed that a line was lost rhyming 
+with ‘ lave.’ 
+
+
+--_s 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+QI. ii. 178. ‘In neither ought, or in ex- 
+sremity’; Malone’s emendation; Folios, ‘In 
+neither ought,’ &c.; Quartos, * Eyther none, 
+in neither ought,’ &c. 
+
+WI ii.» 214. ‘favorite’; Folio 1, ‘ fa- 
+i ae a reading for which much is to be 
+said. 
+
+III. ii. 249. ‘Vienna’; Quarto 1, ‘ Guyana’; 
+for “Gonzago,’ Quarto 1 reads Albertus, who 
+is throughout cailed Duke; in Quarto 2 it is 
+always King; except here where Hamlet says 
+“Gonzago is the Duke’s name.* 
+
+III. ii, 264. ‘ The croaking raven doth bellow 
+for revenge’; 
+
+
+cp. “The screeking raven sits croaking for 
+revenge, 
+Whole herds of beasts comes bellowing 
+for revenge.” 
+The True Tragedie of Rich. III. 
+
+
+Hil. ii. 409. ‘bitter business as the day’; 
+oe Folios; Quartos read ‘ business as the bitter 
+
+ay. 
+
+III. iii. 7. “lunacies’; so Folios; 
+— browes.’ 
+
+Til. iii, 79. ‘hire and salary’; 
+Quartos misprint, ‘ base and silly.’ 
+
+Til. iv. 71-76, 78-81, 161-165, 167-170, 202- 
+210, omitted in Folios. 
+
+Ills iv. 169. ‘And either . . . the devil’; 
+some such word as ‘ master,’ ‘ queil,’ ‘ shame,’ 
+has been omitted in Quartos, which read ‘ and 
+etther the devil.’ 
+
+IV. i. 4. Omitted in Folios. 
+
+IV. i. 40-44. Folio 1 omits these lines, and 
+ends scene with the words:— 
+
+
+Quartos 
+
+
+so Folios; 
+
+
+“And what's untimely done. Oh, come away, 
+My soul is full of discord and dismay.” 
+
+
+Theobald proposed to restore the line by add- 
+ing ‘ for, haply, slander.’ 
+
+TV. ii. 19. ‘like an ape’; so Folios; Quar- 
+tos, ‘iike an apple’; Farmer conjectured ‘ like 
+an ape, an apple’; Singer, from Quarto 1, 
+“like an ape doth nuts’; Hudson (1879), ‘as 
+In ape doth nuts,’ 
+
+IV. ii. 25.‘ A knavish speech sleeps in a 
+foolish ear’; a sentence proverbial since Shake- 
+speare’s time, but not known earlier. 
+
+IV. ii. 32. cp. Psalm cxliv., ‘Man is like a 
+thing of naught’; 32-33, ‘Hide fox, and all 
+
+
+after,’ the reading of Folios; omitted in Quarto. 
+
+
+IV. iii. 27-30: Omitted in Folios. 
+
+IV. iii. 42. ‘this deed,. for thine’; so 
+Quartos; Folios, ‘deed of thine, for thine.’ 
+
+IV. iii. 45. ‘with fiery quickness’; so Fo- 
+Hos; omitted. in Quartos. 
+
+IV. iii. 70. ‘my haps, my joys were’ ne’er 
+begun’; so Folios; Quartos, ‘my haps, my 
+joyes will nere begin’; Johnson conjectured 
+“my hopes, my joys are not begun’; Heath 
+conjectured “’t mav hap, my joys will ne'er 
+begin’; Collier MS., “my hopes, my joyes 
+were ne’re begun’; Tschischwitz, ‘my joys will 
+ne’er begun.’ we 
+
+IV. iv. 3. ‘ Craves’; so Quartos; Folios 1, 2, 
+‘ Claimes.’ 
+
+IV. iv. 0-66. The reading of the Quartos; 
+emitted in Folios. 4 : 
+
+. IV. v. 14-16. Quartos and Folios assign 
+these lines to Horatio; Blackstone re-arranged 
+the lines as in the text. 
+
+
+1387 
+IV. v. 38. ‘ grave BD so Quarto 1, Folios: 
+Quartos, “ ground’; ‘did go’; Pope’s emenda- 
+
+
+tion of Quartos; Folios, ‘ did not go.’ 
+IV. v. 48-55. Song in Quartos; omitted in 
+
+
+IVE 7a0 Death O° 
+and now behold.’ 
+
+IV. v. 89. ‘Feeds on his wonder’; John- 
+son’s emendation; Quartos, ‘ Feeds on this 
+wonder’; Folios, ‘Keepes on his wonder ’; 
+Hanmer, ‘Feeds on his anger.’ 
+
+
+Quartos, ‘ death, 
+
+
+IV. v. 96. ‘Alack, what noise is this’ 
+omitted in Quartos. 
+
+IV. v. 119. ‘unsmirched brows ’;  Grani 
+White’s emendation; Folio I, ‘ unsmirched 
+brow.’ 
+
+
+IV. v. 160-163, 165, omitted in Quartos. 
+
+
+IV. v. 166. “rain’d’; so Quartos; Folios 1, 
+2, ‘ raines.’ 
+IV. v. 172-173. ‘It ts the false steward,’ 
+
+
+&c.; the story has not yet been identified. 
+
+IV. v. 195. ch. ‘ Eastward Hoe’ (1604), 
+by Jonson, Marston, and Chapman, for a trav- 
+ey rs the scene and this song (Act III. 
+Scie). 
+
+IV. vi. 2. ‘Sea-faring men’; so Quartos: 
+Folios read ‘ Sailors.’ 
+
+IV. vii. 14. ‘She’s so conjunctive’; so Fo- 
+lios; Quartos read ‘She ts so concline Ae 
+Qvarto, 1676, ‘ She is so precious.’ 
+
+IV. vii. 22. ‘loud a wind,’ so Folios; Quar- 
+tos 2, 3, “loued Arm’d’; Quartos 4, 5, ‘ loned 
+armes,’ 
+
+IV. vii. 69-82. “my lord . . . graveness’: 
+omitted in Folios; so, too, ll. 115-124. 
+
+IV. vii. 163. ‘But stay, what noise?’; the 
+reading of Quartos; omitted in Folios. 
+
+IV. vii. 193. ‘douts’; Knight’s emendation; 
+Folio 1, ‘ doubts’; Quartos, ‘ drownes’ 
+
+IV. vii. 179. ‘ tunes’; so Folio 1 and Quarto 
+1; Quarto 2, ‘lauds’ (i.e. chants). 
+
+V945039rg2,0504-516,ueas this aes 
+eries’; 130, 202, omitted in Quartos. 
+
+V. i. 269.° treble woe’; the reading of 
+Quartos 2, 3, 6; Folio 1, ‘terrible woer’: 
+Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘ terrible wooer.’ 
+
+V. i. 209. ‘woo’t drink up eisel’; vide 
+Glossary, ‘ eisel’;’ the :vtirious \emendations 
+‘ Weissel,’ “ Yssel’ (a northern branch of the 
+Rhine), ‘ Nile,’ ‘ Nilus,’. are all equally unnec- 
+essary. 
+
+V. ii. 9. ‘pall’; so Quarto 2; 
+‘parle’; Pope, ‘ fall.’ 
+
+V. ii. 31. ‘ they,’ t.e. my brains. 
+
+V. ii. 57, 68-80. Omitted in Quartos. 
+
+V. ii. 78. ‘court’; Rowe’s emendation of 
+Folios, ‘ count.’ 
+
+V. ii. tor. ‘or’; Folios read ‘ for.’ 
+
+V. ii. 110-149. These lines are omitted in 
+Folios, which read, ‘Sir, you are not ig- 
+norant of what eacellence Laertes is at his 
+weapon.” ’ 
+
+V. ii. 131. ‘another tongue’; Johnson con- 
+jectured ‘a mother tongue’; Heath conjec- 
+tured ‘a mother tongue?’ No change is neces- 
+sary; it’s a bit of sarcasm. 
+
+V. ii. 161-162. Omitted in Folios. 
+
+V. ii. 195-196. ‘many more of the same 
+breed’; so Quartos; Folio 1 reads, ‘ mine more 
+of the same Beauy’; Folios. 2, 3, 4, ‘ntne 
+more of the same Beavy.’ 
+
+V. ii. 202-217. Omitted in Folios. 
+
+V. ii, 233-234. ‘Since no man has aught of 
+what he leaves, what is’t to leave. betimes? 
+Let be.’ The reading is taken partly from the 
+
+
+recov- 
+
+
+Folio 1, 
+
+
+1388 
+
+
+Folios and partly from the Quartos; a long list 
+of proposed emendations is given by the Cam~ 
+bridge editors. 
+
+V. ii. 251. Omitted in Quartos. 
+
+V. ii. 255. ‘ brother’; so Quartos; 
+read ‘ mother? 
+
+
+Folios 
+
+
+King Lear—Notes - ey! a 
+
+
+Eos gow: from our age’; so Folios; Quartos 
+‘of our state.’ 
+
+I. i 41-46) (while we . . . now’); 50-51, 
+164; ie ais ae8 (f fine word, legitimate )avigs 
+({ and reverence’); 119-124; [. iv. 6 (‘so may 
+it come’); 296; 345-356; omitted in Quartos. 
+
+I. i. 54. “Where nature doth with merit 
+challenge. Gonertl’’; so Folios; Quartos read 
+“Where merit doth most challenge ite 
+
+
+I. i. 63. ‘do’; so Quartos; Folios. read 
+“ speak.’ f 
+
+I. i. 79. ‘ Ponderous’; so Folios; Quartos, 
+‘ richer. 
+
+I. i. 85. ‘the last, not least’; so Quartos; 
+Folios read ‘ our last and least.’ 
+
+J..i 2063h.1.2 iiatag 1053 ii. 187-166 (‘as of 
+unnaturalness .. . come *); 186 (‘ go armed’); 
+I. aii, 17-217; 24-235 I, iv. 154-169; 239; 252- 
+
+
+2536; omitted in Folios. 
+Eomiapes mystertes,” the ene of Folios 
+
+
+2, 3), 43 Quartos, ‘mistresse’; Folio 1, 
+“ miseries.” ‘ 
+I. i. 148. ‘What wouldst thou do, old man?’ ; 
+
+
+“This is spoken on seeing his master put his 
+hand to his sword ” (Capell) ; Folios 1, 2, 3, 
+
+
+“wouldest’; Quartos, ‘ wilt.” 
+ihe B cee “stoops to folly’; so Quartos; 
+Folios, ‘falls to folly’ ake By 0° fall Sto 
+
+
+folly De “ Reverse thy doom’ ; so Quarto; Folios 
+
+
+read, “reserue thy state.” 
+Boi 169, recreant ’; omitted in Quartos. 
+3 is ie ac ‘five ?; 80 Folios; Quartos, ‘ Foure.’ 
+Bi. 1783 ‘ sixth’. so Folios; Quartos, ‘ fift.’ 
+
+
+I. i. rox. This line is given to Cordelia in 
+Folios. 
+Deis 
+to, go 
+hint 
+
+
+236. ‘ Better’; so Folios; Quartos, ‘ go 
+to, better.’ 
+
+251. ‘respects of fortune’; so Quartos; 
+Folios, “respect and fortunes.’ 
+
+I. i. 282. ‘ want’; Quartos, ‘worth. Theo- 
+bald explains the Folio reading, ‘““ You well 
+deserve to meet with that want of love from 
+your husband, which you have professed to 
+want for our Father.” 
+
+J. i. 284. ‘shame them derides’; so Quar- 
+tos: Folios, ‘ with shane derides’} MWarbuntost 
+“with shame abides,’ &c. 
+
+I. i. 202. ‘ hath not been’; so 
+lios, ‘hath been.’ 
+
+I, ii. 10. So Folios; 
+base, base bastardie.” 
+
+
+Quartos; Fo- 
+
+
+Quartos read, ‘ with 
+Taunton...” top pre ; Edward’s conjecture of 
+Quartos 1, 2, fogs ; Quarto 3, ‘too h’ 
+Folios 1, 2, “ to’th Folios 3,g, oto th,’ &e. 
+I. ii. 69. ‘ that? i.e. the matter, contents. 
+‘These late eclipses in the sun 
+
+
+Fay 1. .r 12; 
+and moon portend no good’; v. Preface. 
+
+
+I. ii. 120. * surfeit’; so Quarto 1; Quartos 2, 
+é x f ¢ as : 
+, ‘surfet’; Folios 1, 2. 3. ‘ surfets’; Folio’ 4, 
+surfetts’; Collier conjectured ‘ foreft.’ 
+
+
+I. ii. 181-188. ‘ That’s my fear . . . Brother,’ 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+oe i = 
+
+
+V. ii. 298. ‘He’s fat and scant. of breath P 
+vide Glossary, ‘ Far.’ “ 
+V. it 356+ ‘ live’; so Folios; Quartos, or 
+leave.’ 2s 
+V. ii. 394. ‘ forced cause” A4SOu Folios; 
+Quartos read ‘for no cause’ CAN 
+
+
+¥ 
+
+so Folios; Quartos read 
+brother,’ omitting rest of Bisse Kot 
+I. iit. 21. * Wath checks as flatteries, when — 
+they are seen abused’; Tyrwhitt’s explanation — 
+seems the most plausible, “with checks, as / 
+well as flatterers, when they (ie. flatterers) 
+are seen to be abused.’’ The emendators have, “ 
+
+
+been busy with the line without much su Soe 
+
+I. iv. r10. ‘Kent. Why, fool? ’; the reading — 
+of Quartos; Folios read ‘Lear. Why my 
+Boy?’ xh 
+
+Te. / ive LOS 1eadtesuae Capell’s cmendaniong 
+Quartos, ‘lJodes’; Collier, ‘ loads.’ ; 
+
+I. iv. 249. ‘Ha! waking?’  Quartos— read 
+
+
+‘ sleeping or waking; ha! sure.’ 
+
+
+II. i. 11-13. Omitted in Qnartos 2,.3.— | 
+II. i. 48. ‘ their thunders’; so the Quartos 
+Folios, ‘the thunder’; Johnson, ‘ their 
+Sic ia g eer mie: Bin’ 
+ieee ‘dispatch’; i.e, ‘dispatch ian ‘% 
+
+or soa, dispatch is the word.’ ic 
+II.i. 72. ‘ what I should deny * 3; so Quartos; 
+
+Folios, ‘What should I deny’; Rowe, “by 
+
+what I should deny ’ ; Hanmer, ‘what I’d 
+
+
+deny’; Warburton, ‘when I should deny te 
+Schmidt, ‘ what, should I deny.’ 
+
+II. i, 80. an never got him’; so Quarto: : 
+Folios, pl he?? 
+
+eae 8 ‘of ‘that consort’; 
+
+
+omitted in "Ouatton : 
+
+i ewer ty 102. “the waste and spoil~ of his? % 
+Ouarto 1, “the wast and spoyle of his 
+Quartos 2, 3, ‘ these—and waste of ‘this his? 
+
+
+Quarto I (Dev. and Cap.) ‘ these—and. waste 
+
+of this his’; Folio 1, ‘th expence and wast | 
+of his’; Folios 2,3, 4, ‘th’ expence and ae 
+
+of.’ ‘ ‘ 
+
+
+Il. ii, 65. “ hours’; Folios, ‘ years.” fi | 
+
+
+TE. ii. Sr. ‘Which are too intrinse tole 
+loose’;-Folio 1, ‘are t’ intrince’ ; Folios 2, 
+3, 4, ‘art t’intrince’; Quartos, ‘are ta @ 
+trench’; Pope, ‘Too - intricate’ 
+
+‘Too “intrinsecate * ; Hanmer, pie intrinsic 
+
+EO: untoose * Folios, “Punloose ’; 
+
+“toinloose ’ ; Seymour conjectured ‘ to enloose. 
+
+Ue ue 148- 152. ‘His fault . . . pe 
+with’; omitted in Folios. ; 
+
+Il. ii. 152. ‘the king must take 
+
+
+Folios read ‘the King his Master, needs 
+take it ill.’ he 
+
+Fileyiis Nas 73 Omitted in Folios. 
+
+Il. ii. 168-160. ‘ out of heaven’, s benedicti n 
+comest To the warm sun’; cp. Heywood’s 
+
+‘ Dialogues on Proverbs’; e In vour rennyvng 
+from hym to me, ye runne out of God's bless- 
+ing into the warm sunne’; t.e. from good 
+worse. Professor Skeat suggests to me that 
+the proverb refers to the haste of the cong: 
+gation to leave the shelter of the church. 
+immediately after the priest’s benediction, rur 
+ning from God’s blessing into the warm s 
+
+
+bh ic ame iat NOTES 
+
+
+1389 
+
+
+This explanation seems by far the jbest that 
+mas been suggested. 
+A. ti. 172. ‘ miracles’; so Folios; Quartos 
+- 1, 2, 3, ‘my wracke’; Quarto 1 (Bodl.), ‘ny 
+; —ackles.” : 
+
+Il. ii. 175-177. ‘and shall . remedies’ ; 
+any emendations have been proposed to re- 
+move the obscurity of the lines, but none can 
+
+pe considered satisfactory. Kent, it must be 
+
+wemembered, is ‘all weary and o’er-watched.’ 
+
+Jennens suggested that Kent is reading dis- 
+
+_» jointed fragments of Cordelia’s letter. ‘From 
+
+‘this enormous state’ seems to mean ‘in this 
+abnormal state of affairs.’ 
+
+If. tv. 19-20. Omitted in Folios. 
+
+II. iv. 99-100; 142-147. Omitted in Quartos. 
+IL, av. 103. ‘commands her service’; ‘so 
+Quartos; Folios, ‘commands, tends, service.’ 
+
+: If. iv. 170. ‘and blast her pride’; so 
+_ Quartos; Folios, ‘and blister’; Collier MS. 
+and, S. Walker conjectured ‘and blast her’; 
+
+ts Schmidt conjectured ‘and blister pride.’ 
+IL. iy. 174. ‘tender-hefted’; so Folios; 
+} Quarto 2, ‘tender hested’; Quarto 1, ‘ téer 
+‘ ested’; Quarto 3, “ tender hasted’; Rowe (Ed. 
+
+
+_ 2) and Pope, ‘ tender hearted’; &ec. 
+“hen II. iv. 303. ‘bleak’; so Quartos; Folios, 
+iy ‘high? 
+TAL i, 7-153; Wi, 18-59; 104-108 (‘ oppressed 
+
+SRE behind’); 109-1223 vii. 99-107; omitted 
+
+in the Folios. 
+
+ot QI, i. 22-29; ii. 79-96; iv. 17-18; 26-27; 
+-- 37-385 vi. 13-16; 92; ‘omitted in the Quartos, 
+be Il. ii: 7. ‘smite’; so Quartos; Folios, 
+
+
+_. * strike.’ 
+
+Y Ill. ii. 9, ‘ make’; Folios, ‘ makes.’ 
+
+Til, ii. 22. ‘have . . . join’d’; the reading 
+
+_ of Quartos; Folios read ‘will . . . join.’ 
+«ADT, ii. 37. ‘ No I will be the pattern of all 
+
+patience’; cp. the description of Leir by 
+_ Perillus in the old play:—‘ But he, the myrrour 
+sof mild patience, Puts up all wrongs, and never 
+gives reply? 
+— IL. ti, 64. “More harder. than the stones’; 
+so Folios; Quartos ‘More hard then is the 
+stone.” 
+
+Til. ii. 73. ‘That’s sorry’; 
+Quartos, ‘That sorrowes,’ 
+
+If, ii, 74-77. Cp. ‘Clown’s song in Twelfth 
+Night, Vi. ya. 398. x : 
+— ~ALL- ii, 95. ‘I lime before his time’; ac- 
+cording to the legend, Lear was. contemporary 
+_ with Joash, King of Judah. The whole pruph- 
+- ecy, which does not occur in the Quartos, was 
+~ probably an interpolation, tacked on by the 
+actor who played the fool. The nassage is an 
+imitation of some lines formerly attributed to 
+Chaucer, called ‘ Chaucer’s Prophecy.’ - 
+
+IIL. iv. 6, ‘contentious’; so Folios; Quarto 
+x (same copies) ‘ tempestious’; Quartos 2, 3, 
+and Quarto 1 (some copies) ‘ crulentions.’ 
+
+Ill. iv. 20. ‘storm’; so Quartos; Folios, 
+* night.’ 
+
+Til. iv. 47. ‘Through the sharp hawthorn 
+blows the cold wind’; probably the burden of 
+an old song. 
+TIL. iv. 54-55. ‘knives under his pillow and 
+_ halters in his pew’ (to tempt him to suicide), 
+_ “Theobald pointed out that the allnsion is to 
+an incident mentioned in Harsnet’s Declara- | 
+
+
+so Folios; 
+
+
+ay 
+
+ia 
+Lf 
+
+it 
+‘i 
+
+
+as 
+
+
+> tion: 
+
+. Ill. iv. 83. ‘thy word justly’; Pone’s 
+a -emendation; Quartos read, ‘ thy words justly ’; 
+_ Folio 1, ‘thy words Tustice,’ 
+
+: 
+
+
+a III. iv. 104. ‘ sessa’; Malone’s emendation; 
+
+
+Folio 1, ‘ Sesey,’ Quarto 1, ‘ caese’; Quarto 
+2, ‘cease’; Capell, ‘sesse’; &c. 
+
+Il. iv. 144-145. Cp. ‘Lhe Romance of Sir 
+Bevis of Hamptown ;— 
+
+
+“ Rattes and myce and suche small dere, 
+Was his meate that seuen yere.” 
+
+
+IIL. iv. 187-189. ‘ Child. Rowland to the dark 
+tower came,’ &c. Jamieson, in his Jilustra- 
+tions of Northern Antigwities (1814) has pre- 
+served the story as told him by a tailor in his 
+youth; this Scottish Version has since been re- 
+printed and studied (Cp. Childs’ English and 
+Scottish Ballads, and Jacob’s English Fairy 
+Tales). 
+
+Ill. av. 188. ‘His word was sill’ refers, of 
+course, to the giant, and not to Childe Row- 
+land. The same story (with the refrain Fee fo 
+fum, Here is the Englishman) is alluded to in 
+Peele’s Old Wives Tale, and it is just possible 
+that it may be the ultimate original of the plot 
+of Milton’s Comus (uv. Preface, on British for 
+English). 
+
+TIL. vi, 27. “Come o’er the bourn, Bessy, to 
+me.’ Mr. Chappell (Popular Music of the 
+Olden Time, p. 305, note) says,“ The allusion 
+is ‘to an English ballad by Wi'liam Birch, en- 
+titled, ‘A Songe betwene the Quene’s Majestie 
+and England,’ a'copy of which is in the li 
+brary of the Soci-ty of Anrtinnari-s, Eneland 
+commences the dialogue, inviting Queen Eliza- 
+beth in the following words:— 
+
+
+“Come over the born, Bessy, come over the 
+born, Bessy, 
+Swete Bessy, come over to me,” 
+
+
+The date of Birch’s song is 1558, and it is 
+printed in full in the Harleian Miscellany, X 
+260. 
+
+III. vi. 43-46. Put into verse by Theobald. 
+Steevens quotes a line from an old song, 
+
+
+“ Sleepeyst thou, makyst thou, Jeffery Coke.” 
+
+
+hela in The Interlude of the Four Elements 
+1519). 
+
+IIt. vi. 79. ‘Thy horn is dry, “A horn 
+was usually carried about by every Tom of 
+Bedlam, to receive such drink as the charitable 
+might afford him, with whatever scraps of food 
+they might give him” (Malone), &c. 
+
+Ill. vi. 97-110. ‘‘ Every editor from Theo- 
+bald downwards,” as the Cambridge Editors 
+observe, “except Hanmer, has reprinted this 
+speech from the Quartos. In deference to this 
+consensus of authority we have retained it, 
+though, as it seems to us, internal evidence 
+is conclusive against the supposition that the 
+lines were written by Shakespeare.’ 
+
+IIL. vii, 58. ‘stick’; the reading of Folios; 
+
+
+Quartos, ‘ rash,’ 
+III. vii. 63. ‘howl’d that stern’; Guartos, 
+“heard that dearnc’: Cane. ‘ horwl’d that 
+
+
+dearn’; ‘dearn’ = obscure, dark, gloomy). 
+TIT. vii. 65. ‘AW crucls else subscribed’; so 
+Quartos; Folios. ‘subscribe.’ The passage has 
+heen variously interpreted; the weight of au- 
+thority favouring the Folio reading. Schmidt’s 
+explanation being perhaps the most nlausible:— 
+“Everything which is at other times cruel, 
+shows feeling or regard; you alone have not 
+done so.”? Furness makes the words part of 
+the speech addressed to the porter, “ acknowl- 
+
+
+1390 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+edge the claims of all creatures, however cruel 
+they may be at other times,” or ‘‘ give up all 
+cruel things else; te., forget that they are 
+cruel.’”’ This approximates to the interpreta- 
+tion given by Mr. Wright to the reading in 
+the text, ‘‘all their other cruelties being 
+yielded or forgiven.” 
+
+
+IV. i. 629. ‘Welcome .. . blasts’; vi. Y60- 
+wan (Plate ni lips’); vii. 61; omitted in 
+the bey 
+
+IV. i “Life would not yield to age,’ i.e. 
+
+
+life oul “not gladly lapse into old age and 
+death. — 
+‘ Kill’; Quarto 1, ‘ ditt fe Quartos 
+
+“Bite is o (probably an error for ‘ hit’). 
+i. 61-66; ii. 31-50, 53-59, 62-68, 69; iii, 
+(the whole scene) ; vii. 24-25, 33-36, 79-80, 85- 
+08, omitted in the Folios. 
+
+IV. ii. 28. ‘My fool usurps my body’; so 
+Folios; Quarto 1, ‘A foole usurps my bed’; 
+Quarto 2, ‘ My foote usurps my head’; Malone, 
+“My fool usurps my bed. 
+
+TVG 47: “tame 
+Schmidt conjectured ‘ 
+
+
+these vile offences’; 
+take the vild offenders’; 
+Heath conjectured ‘these vile’; Quarto 1, 
+‘this vild’; Pope, ‘the vile’ 
+
+IV. ii. 57. ‘thy state begins to threat’; 
+Jennens conjectured; Quarto 1, ‘thy state be- 
+gins thereat | Quartos 2, 3, ‘thy slaier begins 
+threats’ Theobald, “thy slayer begins his 
+threats,” &e. 
+
+IV. ii. 68. ‘your manhood! mew!’; some 
+copies of Quarto 1 read “manhood mew’ 
+
+others ‘manhood now’; so the later Quartos; 
+according to the present reading ‘ mew’ is evi- 
+dently a cat-like interjection of contempt. 
+
+IV. iii. 21, ‘like a better way’; so Quartos; 
+the passage seems to mean that her smiles and 
+tears resembled sunshine and rain, but in a 
+more beautiful manner; many emendations have 
+been proposed—* like a wetter May’ (Warbur- 
+ton); ‘like a , better May’ (Malone); ‘ like ;— 
+a better eke (Boaden), &c. 
+
+V. iii. “Let pity not be beliez red’ 
+‘Let pity a er believe it’; Capell, 
+be believed’ (but ‘believed’ = 
+exist’). 
+
+TN sealed 333 
+reading; Quartos 
+
+
+; Pope, 
+“Let tt not 
+“believed to 
+
+
+“clamour motsten’d’; Capell’s 
+“And clamour moistened 
+her’; Theobaid, ‘And, clamour-motion’d’; 
+Grant White, ‘And, clamour-moisten’d,’ &c. 
+IV. v. 4. ‘lord’; so Folios; Quartos read 
+
+
+‘lady.’ 
+IV. vi. 98-99. ‘I had white hairs in my 
+beard ere the black ones were there’; i.e., “1 
+
+
+had the wisdom of age before I had attained 
+to that of youth’? (Capell). 
+
+
+IV. vi. 225. ‘tame to’; so Folios; Quartos, 
+‘lame by? 
+
+Iv. vii. 32. “ opposed against the. warring 
+winds ’; ; Quartos, Exposed’; Folios, ‘ jarring.’ 
+
+IV. vii. 36. ‘ Mine enemy's’; Folios ‘ Mine 
+Enemies’; Quartos 1, 2, ‘Mine iniurions’; 
+Quarto 2. ‘Mine injurious’; Theobald, ‘My 
+very enemy's, &e. 
+
+Veeevity 79. kellie so Folios: Quartos 
+‘cured’; Collier conjectured ‘ quell’ 
+
+V. i, 11-13, 18-19, 23-28, 333 iii. 38- 39, 47, 
+54-59, 102, 109, 204-221, omitted in the 
+Folios. 
+
+
+V. i. 46. ‘and . . . ceases’; iii. 76, 90, 144, 
+282, omitted in the Qvartos. 
+
+Vent 25-26. Mason’s ¢ njecture ‘ Not the old 
+king’ for ‘not bolds the king’ is worthy of 
+mention. Albany’s pvuint is that the invading 
+enemy is France and not, the wronged king, to- 
+gether with others whom heavy causes compel 
+to fight against them;’-otherwise ‘ not bolds the 
+king’ = ‘not as it emboldens the king’; an 
+awkward and harsh construction. 
+
+V. ii. 5. Mr. Spedding (News Sh. Soc. 
+Trans., 
+Fifth Act really begins here, and that the 
+battle takes place between Edgar’s exit and re- 
+entrance, the imagination having leisure to fill 
+with anxiety for the issue. 
+
+V. iii. 76. ‘the walls are thine * 
+conjectured ‘ they all are thine’ 
+the castle- Se are referred to). 
+
+
+Theobald 
+(but perhaps 
+
+
+WV. ii; “prove it’; so Quartos; Ronee 
+‘make it’; PARR conjecture “mark it’; Col- 
+lier MS., « make good.” 
+
+V. ili. 96. ‘ medicine,’ Folios; Quartos, ‘ poy- 
+son. 
+
+Vv. iii. 129-130. ‘the privilege of mine hon- 
+ours’; Pope’s reading; Quartos read ‘ the 
+protege of my tongue’; Folios, ‘ my priui- 
+ledge, The pruiledge of mine Honours.’ Et 
+
+
+refers to ‘the right of bringing the charge’ 
+the privilege of his profession as knight. 
+
+
+Ne iii. 146. Omitted in Quarto 2; Quarto r 
+ened Heere do I tosse those treasons to thy 
+hea 
+
+V. iii. 156. ‘name’; Quartos read ‘ thing.’ 
+
+V. iii. 159. ‘Most monstrous! know’st’; 
+Steevens emendation; Quarto 1 reads ‘ Most 
+monstrous knowst’; Quartos 2, 3, ‘Monster, — 
+knowst’ Folios, “Most monstrous! oO 4 
+ee tee Capell, ‘Most monsterous! know’st’ eR 
+Edd. Globe Ed., ‘Most monstrous! On? - 
+know’ st.’ ; 
+
+V. iii. 160. ‘Ask me not what I know’; the 
+
+
+Folios give this line to Edmund; the Quartos 
+to Goneril. Ne 
+
+
+V. iii. 170-171. ‘ vices 
+Folios; Quartos read 
+us’; Hanmer, 
+
+
+. . plague us’; so 
+“vertues . . scourge 
+“vices . . . plague and punish 
+us’; Keightley, ‘vices . . . plague us in their 
+time’; Anon. conjecture “vices 5 . scourge 
+us and to plague us’; cp. ‘ Wherewith a man 
+
+
+sinneth, by the same also shall he be punished,” 
+
+
+Wisdom xi, 16. 
+
+V. iii. 205. ‘ but another,’ &c., t.e. “ one more 
+such circumstance only, by amplifying what is 
+already too much, would add to it, and so ext” 
+
+
+ceed what seemed to be the limit of sorrow”? — 
+
+
+(Wright). 
+V. iii. 281. 
+each beholding the other sees one of fortune’s 
+
+
+two notable objects of love and hate; (? for q 
+
+
+“we? read ‘ye,’ as has been suggested). 
+
+V. ili. 310. ‘Look on her, 
+Tohnson’s emendation; 
+her lips’; Folios, 
+lips.’ 
+
+V. iii. 323. This speech is given in the Folios 
+to Edgar, and probably it was so intended ea D 
+the poet. It has been suggested that the first — 
+two lines should be given to Edgar, the last- 
+two to Albany. 
+
+
+Folio 1 reads ‘ Looke 
+
+
+Part I.) plausibly suggested that the | 
+
+
+“One of them we behold, i.e. 
+
+
+look, her lips iS 
+
+
+‘looke (or look) on her 
+
+
+el 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+139) 
+
+
+Othello, the Moor 
+
+
+i. 15. Omitted in Folios and Quartos 2, 3. 
+
+I. i. 21. ‘A fellow alnost damn’d in a fair 
+wife’; if this alludes to Bianca, the phrase 
+may possibly mean ‘ very near being married to 
+a most fair wife.’ Some explain, ‘“‘A fellow 
+whose ignorance of war would be condemned 
+in a fair woman.” The emendations proposed 
+are unsatisfactory, and probably unnecessary. 
+
+I. i. 72. ‘changes’; Folios read ‘ chances.’ 
+
+Wee its 72-773 ii. 16; 36; 63; 118; 1233 194; 
+mitted Quarto 1. 
+
+I. ii. 75. ‘weaken motion’; Rowe’s emenda- 
+ticn; Folios and Quartos 2, 3, ‘ weakens mo- 
+tion’; Pope (Ed. 2, Theobald) ‘ weaken no- 
+tion’; Hammer, ‘waken motion’; Keightley, 
+“‘ wakens motion’; Anon. conjecture in Furness 
+“wake emotion,’ &c. 
+
+I. iii. 67. ‘bloody book of law’; ‘By the 
+Venetian law the giving of love-potions was 
+bighly criminal” (Clarke). 
+
+I. iii. 87. ‘ feats of broil’; Capell’s emenda- 
+
+
+tion; Quarto 1, ‘feate of broile’; Folio 1, 
+“Feats of Broiles,’ &c. 
+
+I. iii. 107. ‘Certain’; so Quartos; Folios 
+‘ wider.” 
+
+
+I. iii. 139. ‘portance in my’; so Folios and 
+Quarto 2; Quarto 3, ‘ portence in my’; Quarto 
+1, ‘with it all my’; Johnson conjectured ‘ por- 
+tance in't; my’; &c.; ‘ travels’’; the reading of 
+Modern Edd: (Globe Ed.); Quartos, ‘ trauells’ ; 
+Pope, ‘travel’s’; Folio 1, ‘ Trauellours’; 
+Folios 2, 3, ‘Travellers’; Folio 4, ‘ Travel- 
+Jer’s’; Richardson conjectured ‘ travellous’ or 
+*“ travailous.’ 
+
+I. iii. 159. ‘sighs’; Folios, ‘ kisses’; South- 
+
+
+ern MS., ‘ thanks.’ 
+
+
+I. iii. 250. ‘and storm of fortunes’; Quarto 
+1, ‘and scorne of Fortunes,’ &c. 
+
+I. iii. 261. ‘Let her have your voices’ 
+Dyce’s correction; Folios, ‘Let her have your 
+voice’; Quartos read:— 
+
+
+“ Your voyces Lords; beseech you let her will 
+Haue a free way.” 
+
+
+I. iii. 264-265. ‘the young affects in me de- 
+funct’; Quartos, ‘the young affects In my 
+defunct’; so Folio 1; Folios 2, 3, 4 (‘ effects’). 
+The reading of the text is the simplest and 
+“most plausible emendation of the many pro- 
+posed, the words meaning ‘the passions of 
+vouth which I have now outlived’: ‘ proper 
+satisfaction’ — ‘my own. gratification.’ 
+
+I. iii. 330. ‘ balance’; Folios, ‘brain’ and 
+“braine’; Theobald, ‘ beam.’ 
+
+I. iii. 354. ‘luscious as locusts’; “ perhaps 
+so mentioned from being placed together with 
+wild honey in St. Matthew iii. 4’ (Schmidt). 
+
+I. iii, 358. Omitted in Folios. 
+
+I. iii, 384-388. The reading in the text is that 
+of the second and third Quartos; Quarto 1, 
+adds after the words ‘I am chang’d’ :— 
+
+
+““Goe to, farewell, put money enough in your 
+purse’’; 
+
+
+omitting ‘ J’1l go sell all my land.’ 
+TI. i. 39-40; 158; 260 (‘didst not mark 
+‘hat?’): omitted in Quarto 1. 
+
+
+2| 
+
+
+of Venice—Notes 
+
+
+II. i, 65. “tive the ingener’; Knight, 
+Steevens conjectured; Folio 1, ‘tyre the In- 
+geniuer”; Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘tire the Ingeniver’; 
+Quarto 1, ‘ beare all Excellency —; Quartos 2, 
+3, ‘ beare an excelency’:—Johnson conjectured 
+
+
+“tire the ingenious verse’; Pope, ‘ beare all 
+excellency—’ 
+
+II. i, 82. ‘ And Cyprus’; omitted in 
+Folios. 
+
+II. i. 249. ‘a devilish knave’; omitted in 
+Quartos. 
+
+Il. i. 258. “blest pudding’; Folios, ‘ Bless'd 
+
+
+pudding’; omitted in Quartos. 
+
+II. i. 268-269. ‘ comes the master and main’; 
+so Folios; Quarto 1 reads ‘comes the maine’; 
+Quartos 2, 3, ‘comes Roderigo, the master and 
+the maine.’ 
+
+III. i. 280. ‘haply .may.’; 
+“haply with his Trunchen may.’ 
+
+If. i. 312. ‘poor trash of Venice, whom 1 
+trash’; Steevens’ emendation; Quarto 1, ‘ poor 
+trash I crush’; Folios. Quartos 2, 3, 
+“poor Trash . . . I trace’; Theobald, War- 
+burton conjectured ‘poor brach . . . I trace’; 
+Warburton (later conjectured) ‘poor brach 
+see apuncherts lim 
+
+II. iii. 42. ‘here,’ i.e. in my head. 
+
+II. iii. 92-99. These lines are from an old 
+song called ‘ Take thy old cloak about thee, to 
+be found in Percy’s Reliques. 
+
+II. iii. 167. ‘sense of place’; Hanmer’s 
+emendation of Quartos, Folios, ‘ place of sense’ 
+
+II. iii, 318. ‘ some time’; so Quartos; Folios, 
+“a time’; Grant White. ‘ one time,’ 
+
+
+Quartos read 
+
+
+III. i. 13. ‘for love's sake’; Quarto 1, ‘ of 
+all loues.’ 
+III. i. 43. ‘ Florentine,’ i.e. ‘even a Floren- 
+
+
+tine’; Iago was a Venetian. 
+
+ITI. i. 52. Omitted in Folios. 
+
+III. iii. 23. ‘ watch him tame,’ 7.e. tame him 
+by keeping him from sleep (as was done with 
+hawks). 
+
+IIL. iii. 106. ° By heaven, he echoes me’; 
+Juarto 1, “By heauen he ecchoes me’; Folios, 
+Alas, thou echos’t me’; Quartos 2, 3, ‘why 
+dost thou ecchoe me.’ 
+
+III. iii, 132. ‘thy worst of thoughts’; so 
+Folios, Quarto 2; Quarto 1, reads ‘ the worst 
+of thoughts’; Quarto 3, ‘thy thoughts’; per 
+haps we should read:— 
+
+
+“As thou dost rum'nate, give thy worst of 
+thoughts.” 
+
+Ill. iii. 170. ‘ strongly’; so Quartos; Folios, 
+“ soundly’; Knight, ‘ fondly.’ 
+
+Ill. iii. 277. ‘Desdemona comes’; so 
+Quartos; Folios read ‘ Looke where she comes.’ 
+
+III. iii. 325; 383-390; 453-460; iv. 8-10; 195- 
+196. Omitted in Quarto 1. 
+
+III. iii. 440. ‘any that was hers’; Malone’s 
+emendation; Quartos, ‘any, it was hers’; 
+Folio 1, “any, it was hers’; Folios 2, 3, 4, 
+“any if't was hers’; Anon. conjecture ‘ any 
+“it? was hers.’ 
+
+III. iii. 447. “thy hollow cell’; so Quartos: 
+Folios read ‘ the hollow hell’; Warburton, ‘ th’ 
+unhallow’d cell.’ 
+
+
+III. iii, 456: Steevens compares the. follow- ... 
+
+
+112) aap i : ; 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+ing passage in Holland’s Pliny:—‘‘ And the 
+sea Pontus ever more floweth and runneth 
+out from Fropontes, but the sea never retireth 
+back again within Pontus.” 
+
+
+Ill. iii. 469. ‘business ever’ ,Quartos, 
+“worke so euer’; Collier, ‘ work soe’er’; &c. 
+
+Il. iv. 47. ‘our new heraldry,’ ‘wide 
+Preface). 
+
+Ill. iv. 65. ‘ her, i.e. to my wife (implied in 
+“wine ). 
+
+Ill. iv. rar.‘ shut myself wp im,’ &c., 7.¢. 
+
+
+*Confine myself to some other course of life, 
+awaiting fortune’s charity’; Quarto r, ‘ shoote 
+my selfe up in’; Capell,. ‘ shoot myself upon’; 
+Rann, ‘ shape myself upon’; Collier MS., ‘ shift 
+myself upon.’ 
+
+Iii. iv. 151. ‘ warrior’; Hanmer 
+cp. “O my fatr warrior ” (TBS i. 
+
+V. i. 77. ' here ‘o’erwhelmed’ 
+‘ here ere meh, mad.’ 
+
+iV. i. 122. (| What, a customer!’); it, 
+76; tii. 60-63, ay. 104; omitted in Quarto r. 
+
+V. i. 139-140. ‘and, by this hand, she falls 
+me’; so Collier; Quarto 1, reads ‘ by. this. hand 
+she fals’; Folios, ‘and falls me’; Quartos 2, 
+3. falls me.’ 
+
+IV. i. 276. ‘ This the: nature’ ; Pope’s read- 
+ing; Quartos, ‘ This the noble nature’ ; Folios, 
+“Is this the nature’ 
+
+TV. ii. 109. * least misuse’; Quarto 1, ‘ great- 
+est abuse’; Collier MS., ‘ least misdeede’ 
+
+IV. ii. 170. ‘ The messengers of Wenice. stay 
+the meat’; Knight’s reading; Folio 1, ‘The 
+Messengers of Venice staies the meate’; Yolios 
+2, 3, 4, ‘The Messenger of Venice staies the 
+meate’,; Quarto 1, ‘ And the great Messengers 
+of Venice stay’; Quartos 2, 3, “The meate, 
+great Messengers of Venice stay.’ 
+
+Sys iii. 23. ‘ All’s one, Good faith’; Quarto 
+‘ All’s one good faith’; Quartos 2,5 “Als 
+. good father’; Folios, ‘ All’s one: good 
+
+
+* Bar- 
+
+
+‘ wrangler’; 
+beer 
+Quarto 1, 
+
+
+73 
+
+
+‘ Barbara’; Quartos rend, 
+‘ Barbarie.’ 
+
+
+iit. 26. 
+bary’; Folio 1, 
+
+
+Antony and Cleopatra—Notes i be 
+
+
+I. i. 18. Grates me: the sum’; Folio 4, 
+“Grates me, the summe’; Folios 2, 3, “Rate 
+me, the summe’; Rowe, ‘ Rate me the sum’; 
+Pope, ‘It grates me. Tell the sum’; Capell, 
+“°T grates. me:—The sum? » Steevens (1793), 
+
+
+“’Grates me:—The sum.’ 
+
+
+I. i. 60-61. ‘ liar. who Thus speaks of him’; 
+Pope reads ‘liar Fame, Who speaks hin thus.’ 
+I. ti. 5. ‘charge’; Warburton and Southern 
+
+
+MS. conjectures, adopted by Theobald: Folios, 
+‘change’; Jackson conjectured ‘ chain’; Wilk 
+liams conjectured ‘’hang.’ 
+
+I. it. 39. ‘ fertile’; Warburton conjecture. 
+adopted by Theobald; Folios ‘ foretell’ and 
+‘foretell’; Pope, ‘foretold’; Collier MS., 
+‘ fruitful.” 
+
+I. ii, 65. ‘ Alexas—come’ > Theobald’s read- 
+ing of the Folio text, where Alexas is errone- 
+
+
+ously printed as though the name of the 
+speaker, 
+seat “Saw you my lord?’; so Folios 
+
+
+2, 3, 4; Folio 1 reads ‘ Saue you, my lord’ 
+
+
+IV. iii. 41, &c.; the original of Desdemune 
+song is to be found in Percy’s Reliques under 
+the title of ‘A Lover's Complaint, being fo 
+saken of his Love,’ where the plaintive love 
+
+
+is a man. i im 
+TV oie lite ars “sighing ’ ; Folios, “ singing ’ 
+Quarto 3, ‘ singhing’; Fotio 1 (Dev.) * sining. 
+
+
+V. i. 82°83; 11. 82, 185-193, 266-272; omitted 
+in’ Quarto 1. ) 
+
+
+Weer Sse ‘ gentlemen’ 5; the reading of 
+Folios; Quartos, ‘ Gentlewoman.’ $n ie 
+
+Voi. (107. “af you stare’; so Folios; _Quartos 
+I, 2, “an you stirre’; Quarto 3, “an hand 
+stirr’ Tsied i conjecture ‘if you stay.” 
+
+Vwi ‘ Put out the light, and then put out 
+the Hie 2 1.2. “put out the light, and then © 
+
+
+put out the light of life. The Cambridge _ 
+Editors give some dozen variant methods, OLA 
+punctuating and reading the line, but it is ae 
+fectly clear as it stands. 
+
+V.. fi. 151. ‘made mocks with love’; “© iatern 
+advantage to play upon the weakness of Ras " 
+
+
+sion (Johnson). 
+V. ii. 172. ‘ Disprove this villain’; Capell, 
+“ Disprove it, villain’ Pa 
+Vi. it. 397. ° bring away’ Quartos, | bring 
+him away’; Collier MS., SbaAg them away. 
+Valais i475 ‘ Indian *; Folio 1, ‘Judean’; 
+Theobald provosed * Tudian,? adding, “I am 
+
+
+satisfied in his Judian he is ‘alluding to Herod, 
+who, in a fit of blind jealosie, threw away such 
+a jewel of a wife as Mariammne was. ton him.” 
+This interpretation was Warburton’s. “This 
+it is,” asi Coleridge put it, “ for ndpocian to 
+comment on the greatest of poets! To m 
+
+
+Boswell aptly quotes from Habington’s: A 
+tara — j 
+
+
+“So the unskilful Indian those bright EN 
+Which might add majesty to diadems, —— 
+’Mong the waves scatters.” 
+
+
+I. ii. 103-108. The gtkancemens of the te 
+was first given by Stanodn es 
+I. i. 114. ‘ minds’; 
+adopted by Hanmer; 
+Collier CONIRONENE wints.’ : 
+I. ii. 132. ‘ enchanting’; so Folio 1; onset 
+in Folios 2, 3, 45 Rowe reads ‘ Egyptian,’ ee 
+Te. Win sa en eee compelling occasion’; Rowe’s 
+emendation of Folios, “a compelling "an occa 
+
+
+at) ., 
+Warburton conjectu: 
+' Folios ft, 2, “windes 
+
+
+sion’; Nicholson conjectured “so Ba. 
+ds occasion,’ &e. ; 
+I. ii, 200-201. ‘like the courser’s hash? § 
+
+
+alluding to the popular notion that horaena 
+
+
+put into water will turn into a sn 
+worm. 
+Snes aa ‘Our’; Heath and Johnson ‘con- 
+jecture, adonted = Singer; Folios, ‘One’, 
+Hanmer, ‘AY 
+Sci oe “as? s Johnson conjectured “an 
+De iv ‘backeging ?s ‘ lacquying,’ Theo- 
+
+
+| bald’s on oes from. Anon. Se 
+
+
+“Pope, er sbins ?; Southern .MS., 
+Ring.” 
+I ae 48, ‘an arm-gaunt’ ; ; Folios, an Arme- 
+i Hanmer, ‘an. arm-girt ’; Mason con- 
+e, adopted by. Steevens, 1793, ‘a ter- 
+ay, Jackson conjectured ‘a war-gaunt’ ; 
+den conjectured, adopted by Singer, ‘an 
+ogant’; Lettsom conjectured ‘a rampaunt ’ ; 
+jatter ingenious emendation certainly com- 
+ads itself; unless ‘ arm-gaunt’ =‘ having 
+fore- limbs.’ Y. 
+0. ‘ beastly’; Hanmer, ‘ beast-like ’ ; 
+iS, ‘ boasifully ’; Becket conjectured 
+
+
+10. ‘ powers are crescent’ Theobald 
+“pow’r’s a crescent’; Becket conjectured 
+ywer is crescent’; Anon. conjectured ‘ pow- 
+s a-crescent.’ 
+I. ii. 44. ‘Was theme for you,’ i.e. ‘had 
+you for its theme’ ; Johnson conjectured “ Had 
+theme from you’; Collier (ed. 2), “For theme 
+a you’ ; Staunton conjectured * Had you for 
+eme ” 5 Orson conjectured ‘Was known for 
+” &e. 
+
+1. ii. 112. “your considerate stone,’ i.e. ‘1 
+silent as a stone’; Heath conjectured 
+‘your confederates love’; Johnson, ‘ your con- 
+derate ones’; Blackstone conjectured ‘ your 
+consideratest one,’ &e. &e. 
+
+oe i ee 213. “And made their bends adorn- 
+“y' ae, “and made their very 
+beisance an improvement on their beauty” 
+
+
+2. ‘my prayers’; Rowe reads “in 
+& Collier MS:, * with prayers.’ 
+i “a fear’; Collier (ed. 2), 
+
+
+“afeard’; S. Walker conjec- 
+
+
+|. fii. 30. “he away, ’tis’; Pope’s emenda- 
+-of Folio 1, ‘he alway ‘tis’; Folios 2, 3, 
+he always as.” 
+
+- 38. ‘ inhoop’d 
+mer, “in-coop'd ’; ; Seward 
+adopted by Capell, “in whoop’ d-at,” 
+Tsiwe v2. Tawny-finn'd ’; 
+jon of Folios, “ Tawny-fine ’; 
+
+
+i.e. enclosed in a hoop; 
+
+
+Rowe reads 
+
+
+. y. 103. ‘That art not what thou’rt sure 
+janmer, ‘ That say’st but what thou’rt 
+3; Jobnson conjectured ‘ That art—not 
+2—Thow’rt sure ont,’ &c.;, perhaps the 
+fangs of the text mean ‘that art not the 
+: il thing of which thou art so certain’; other 
+-pretations have been advanced. 
+
+116. “Though he be painted one way 
+Gorgon,’ alluding to the old ‘ perspec- 
+ictures showing one picture from one 
+ie _view, another from another stand- 
+
+
+79. ‘there’; Pope, ‘then’; Steevens 
+tured © ‘ theirs.’ 
+[I. vii. roo. ‘increase the reels’; Steevens 
+
+
+ectured ‘and grease the cae Aro Douce 
+red ‘increase the revels.’ 
+II. vii. 118. ‘ bear’; Theobald’s emendation; 
+Folios, ‘ beat.’ 
+Til. v. 14. ‘Then, world, thou hast’; Har- 
+r’s emendation; Folios, ‘ Then oid thou 
+adst’; Warburton MS., ‘Then would thou 
+ast’: < chaps, no, Theobald’s reading of 
+Collier MS.. 
+
+
+oars ink no. 
+al vi. ‘left unloved’; 
+eld alors Singer conjectured, adopted | 
+
+
+act of | 
+
+
+- (Steevens) ; the passage has been variously in- | 
+preted, but this seems the simplest solu- | 
+
+
+Thirl- | 
+
+
+conjecture, | 
+
+
+Theobald’s emen- | 
+
+
+1393 
+
+
+by Hudson, ° felt unloved ’; 
+tured “left unvalued ’ ; 
+‘left eae E 
+
+III. vii, “If not denounced against us” 
+Hanmer pas “Is’'t not .denounc’d pp kee 
+us?’,; Jackson conjectured “Is't not? De- 
+nounce against ust’; &c. 
+
+IIL. vii. 69, ‘his whole action grows Not in 
+the power on’t,’ i.e, “his whole conduct in the 
+war is not founded upon that which is 
+
+
+Seymour conjec- 
+Staunton conjectured 
+
+
+his 
+
+greatest strength, namely, his land force, but 
+on the caprice of a woman,” &c. (Malone). 
+Ill. xii. 28-29. ‘ And in our name, what she 
+requires ; add more, From thine inwention, 
+offers’; Grant White conjectured ‘What she 
+
+
+requires; 
+from 
+
+
+and in our name add 
+thine invention’; Walker, 
+-_. From thine invention offer.’ 
+
+III. xiii. 162. “ C@sarion smite’; Hanmer’s 
+ee paens Folios, * C@sarian smile. 
+
+IV. iv. * mine’; Folios, ‘ thine.’ 
+
+EVerave ode. The text follows Malone’s ar- 
+rangement and reading (vide Cambridge Edi- 
+tion, Note Races 
+
+TVA mr. “ Dispatch. Enobarbus!’; Stee- 
+vens fcotins Ng Folio 1, ‘ Wispatch Eno- 
+barbus’; Folio 2, * Dispatch Eros’; Folios 3, 
+4. ‘ Dispatch, Eros’; Pope ‘aispatch my 
+£ros’; Johnson conjectured ‘ Dispatch! To 
+Enobarbus!’; Capell, ‘ Dispatch—O Enobar- 
+bus!? Rann, “Eros! Duspatch’; Ritson. con- 
+
+
+more Offers 
+“and more 
+
+
+jectured, adopted by Steevens 1793, ‘ Eros, 
+despatch’ ; Anon. conjecture, * Domitius Enor- 
+barbus!’ 
+
+IV. vi. 13. “ persuade ’ ; ; Rowe’s correction of 
+Folios, “ disswade.’ 
+
+IV. viii. ‘ favouring’; Theobald’s emen- 
+dation of Folios ‘ sazouring.’ 
+
+IV. xii. 25. ‘soul’; Capell, ‘soil’; Singer 
+(ed. 2) from Collier -MS., ‘ speli’; S. Walker 
+conjectured ‘snake’: grave’; Pope reads 
+‘gay’; Collier (ed. 2) from Collier MS., 
+“ great’; Singer (ed. 2), ‘ grand.’ 
+
+IV. xiv. 87. ‘Lo thee’; Grant White cen: 
+jectured ‘Lo there.’ 
+
+IV. xv. 10. ‘Burn the great sphere’; Han- 
+mer, ‘Turn from the sphere ’; Warburton, 
+
+
+“Turn from th’ great sphere. 
+
+IV. xv. 11. ‘ shore GB Staunton conjecture, 
+adopted by Hudson, “ star.’ 
+
+IV. xv. 21. ‘I dare not’; Malone conjectured 
+
+
+“I dare not descend’; Ritson conjecture, 
+adopted by Wordsworth, ‘I dare not come 
+down’; Anon. conjecture, from Plutareh, ‘J 
+
+
+dare not ope the gates’; &e. 
+
+IV. xv. 73. “No more, but e’en a woman’; 
+Capell’s version; 
+a Woman ’; Rowe, 
+qwoman ” Johnson 
+Steevens, 1773, 1778, 
+woman, 
+
+Vudtiagad crack : the round world’; Steevens 
+conjectured “crack than thiss the ruin’d 
+world’; Singer conjectured * crack: the round 
+world convulsive’ Nicholson conjectured 
+“crack: the round world in rending’; Pa 
+pile hues crack in the round "vor 17? &e.. &e. 
+
+Vv. 4. * Splitted the heart’ Collier MS., 
+’ Split shat self noble heart’ ; Elze conjectured 
+“Splitted that ery heart.’ 
+
+V. i. 50-60. ‘live To be ungentle,’ Rowe (ed. 
+2) and Southern MS.; Folios read ‘leaue to 
+
+
+‘No more but a meer 
+conjecture, adopted by 
+“No more—but e’en a 
+
+
+| be ungentle’; Capell, ‘Leave to be gentle’; 
+' Tyrwhitt conjectured ‘ learn To be ungentle ’ ; 
+Gould conjectured ‘ bear to be ungentle”’ 
+
+
+Folios- read ‘No more but in 
+
+
+1394 
+
+
+V. ii. 7. ‘dug’; Warburton conjecture, 
+adopted by Theobald, ‘dugg’; Folios, ‘dung’; 
+
+
+Nicholson conjectured ‘tongue’; Cartwright 
+conjectured ‘wrong’; Bailey conjectured 
+“doom. 
+
+V. ii. 50. ‘ necessary’; Hanmer, ‘ accessory ’; 
+
+
+Malone conjectured ‘ necessary, I’ll not so much 
+as syllable a word’; Ritson conjectured ‘ neces- 
+sary, I will not speak; if sleep be neces- 
+sary.’ 
+
+V. ii. 87. ‘an autumn ’twas’; Theobald and 
+Thirlby conjectured; Folios read ‘an Anthony 
+tt was’; &e. 
+
+VY. ii, 104. ‘smites’; Capell’s emendation; 
+
+
+Cymbeline—Notes 
+
+
+I. i. 3. ‘does the king’; Tyrwhitt’s conjec- 
+ture; Folios. ‘do’s the Kings’; Hanmer, ‘ do 
+the kings.’ 
+
+I. i. 133. ‘A year’s age’; this reading seems 
+weak; one expects some stronger expression. 
+Warburton, adopted by Theobald, ‘a yare [i.e. 
+speedy] age’; Hanmer, ‘snany A year’s age’; 
+Nicholson, ‘more than Thy years’ age’; &c., 
+ke. 
+
+I, iii. 9. ‘make me with this eye or ear’; 
+Folios, ‘his’ for ‘ this.’ 
+
+I. iv. 21. ‘are wonderfully to’; Warburton 
+conjectured ‘ atds wonderfully to’; Capell con- 
+jectured ‘ are wonderful to’; Eccles, ‘ and won- 
+derfully do.’ 
+
+I. iv. 79-80. ‘could not but’; 
+emendation of Folios, ‘ could not.’ 
+
+I. iv. 122. ‘herein too’; so Folios 3, 4; 
+Folios 1, 2, ‘ heereitn to’; Grant White, ‘ herein- 
+to’; Anon, conjecture, ‘ hereunto’; Vaughan 
+conjectured ‘herein, so.’ 
+
+I. iv. 146. ‘ afraid’; Warburton’s emenda- 
+tion, adopted by Theobald; Folios, ‘a Friend’; 
+Becket conjectured ‘affied’; Jackson conjec- 
+tured ‘ affanc’d’; Collier MS., ‘ afeard’; Ingle- 
+by conjectured ‘her friend.’ 
+
+TI. v. 68. ‘chance thou changest on’; so 
+Folios; Rowe reads ‘chance thou chancest 
+on’; Theobald, ‘ change thou chancest on.’ 
+
+I. vi. 25. ‘trust—’; Boswell’s readings, 
+Folios, ‘trust’; Hanmer, |‘ truest’; Rann, 
+‘truest’; Thirlby conjectured ‘ trusty.’ 
+
+I. vi. 36. ‘number'd’; (?) ‘rich in num- 
+bers’; Theobald, ‘unnumber’d’; Warburton, 
+“hkumbl’d’;, Farmer conjectured ‘ umber’d’; 
+Jackson “conjectured ‘ member’d’; Theobald’s 
+excellent emendation has much to commend it. 
+
+I. vi. 45. ‘ desire vomit emptiness’; Johnson 
+explained these difficult words as follows:— 
+* Desire, when it approached sluttery, and con- 
+sidered it in comparison with such neat excel- 
+lence, would not only be not so allured to feed, 
+but seized with a fit of loathing, would vomit 
+emptiness, would feel the convulsions of dis- 
+gust, though being unfed, it had no object.” 
+Pope, ‘desire vomit ev’n emptiness’; Capell, 
+“desire vomit to emptiness’; Hudson, ‘ desire 
+vomit from emptiness.’ 
+
+I. vi. 109. ‘unlustrous’ ; 
+tion of Folios, 
+lustrous.’ ’ 
+
+II. ii. 40. ‘bare the raven’s eye’; 
+
+
+Malone’s 
+
+
+: Rowe’s emenda- 
+‘illustrious’; Ingleby. ‘ ill- 
+
+
+NOTES e P 
+
+
+O_O IOS 
+
+
+Theo- | 
+
+
+Folios 1, 2, ‘suites’; Folios 3, 4, ‘ sutts’; 
+Pope, ‘ shoots.’ ; 
+- li, 174. ‘my chance,’ i.e. my changed 
+fortune, lot; Hanmer reads ‘ mischance’; S. 
+Walker conjectured ‘ my change’; Ingleby con- 
+jecture, adopted by Hudson, ‘ my glance.’ 
+V. ii. 178-179. ‘We answer others’ merits in 
+our name, Are’; Malone’s reading; Folios, 
+
+
+“We answer others merits, in our name Are’; 
+&e. 
+
+
+V. ii. 356. “ caves’; ‘So Folios 2, 3, 4; Folio 
+1, ‘caues’; Barry conjectured ‘ canes’; Anon. 
+conjecture “caves’;  Perring conjectured 
+course. 
+
+
+bald’s conjecture, adopted by Steevens; Folios, 
+‘beare the Rauens eye.’ aor: 
+
+Il. iii. 28. ‘ With every thing that pretty is’, 
+Hanmer (unnecessarily, for the sake of the 
+thyme), “ With all the things that pretty bin’; 
+
+
+Warburton, “With everything that pretty : 
+bin. ui ry 
+II. iii. 33. ‘vice’; Rowe’s emendation of 
+
+
+Folios, ‘ voyce.’ 
+
+Il. ili. 52. ‘soliciting’; the reading of Col- 
+lier (ed. 2); Folio 1 reads ‘ solicity’; Folios 
+2, 3, 4, ‘ solicits’; Pope, ‘ solicits.’ 
+
+II. iii. 106. “Are not’; Warburton’s conjec- 
+ture, adopted Sy Theobald, ‘ cure not’; but no 
+change is necessary. 
+
+Ill. i. 20. ‘rocks’; Seward conjecture, 
+adopted by Hanmer; Folios, ‘ Oakes.’ 
+
+Ill. i, 54. ‘We do’; these words are part of 
+Cymbeline’s speech in Folios; Collier MS. as- 
+signs them to Cloten, and the arrangement 
+has been generally adopted. 
+
+III. iii. 2. ‘ Sfoop’; Hanmer’s emendation of 
+Folios, ‘ Sleepe.’ 
+
+III. iii, 6. ‘turbans’; Folio 1, ‘ Turbonds’; 
+Folios 2, 3, 4, ‘ Turbands.’ - 
+
+III. iii. 23. ‘ bauble’; Rowe’s emendation of 
+Folios, ‘Babe’; Hanmer, ‘ bribe’; the latter 
+suggestion has been accepted by many modern 
+editors; Brae, ‘ badge,’ i.e. decoration, ribbon. 
+
+III. iii. 34, ‘ prison for’; Pope’s emendation 
+of Folio,;1, ‘Prison, \or?; Folios *2,; sigan 
+“Prison or’; Anon. conjecture, and Vaughan 
+conjecture, ‘ prison of.’ m 
+
+III. iii. 83. ‘I’ the cave wherein they bow’; — 
+Warburton’s emendation; Folios, ‘J’ th’ Cave, — 
+whereon the Bowe’; Rowe, ‘I’ th’ cave, where — 
+on the bow’; Pope, ‘Here in the cave, 
+wherein’; Theobald, ‘I’ th’ cave, there, on the — 
+brow,’ &c. 
+
+ITI. iv. 52. ‘Whose mother was her paint- — 
+ing,’ t.e, “who owed her beauty to her painted — 
+face’; or, perhaps ‘whose painted face was — 
+the sum of her woman-like aualities’: accord-— 
+ing to others. ‘whose mother aided and — 
+abetted her daughter in her trade.’ 4 
+
+UII. iv. 81. ‘afore’t’; Rowe’s emendation of — 
+Folios, ‘ a-foot.’ 
+
+Ill. iv. ro4. ‘Ill wake mine eye-balls blind 
+first’; Hanmer’s emendation; Folios read <The 
+wake mine evye-balles first’; Rowe, ‘Ill break — 
+mine eye-balls_ first’; Johnson . conjecture, — 
+adopted by Ingleby, “I'll wake mine eye-balls — 
+
+
+out first’; Collier MS., ‘I'll crack mine eye- 
+balls first.’ 
+
+
+; Spence, 
+Elze, ‘ that 
+
+
+Ill. iv. 138. ‘Where then?’ perhaps these 
+words should be assigned to Pisanio, 
+
+IE. iv. 177.‘ Which you'll make him know’; 
+Hanmer’s reading; Folios read ‘Which will 
+make him know’; Theobald, ‘Which will make 
+him so.’ 
+
+II. v. 44. ‘loud’st of noise’; Capell’s emen- 
+dation; Folios 1, 2, ‘lowd of noise *; Rowe, 
+“loudest noise.’ 
+
+Ill. v. 72. Possibly, as explained by John- 
+son, these words are to be explained as mean- 
+ing, ‘than any lady, than all ladies, than all 
+womankind’; Hanmer, ‘than any lady, win- 
+ning from each one,’ 
+
+should read, with 
+
+
+vi. 71. Perhaps 
+Hanmer, ‘I’d bid’; i.e. “I’d bid for you and 
+make up my mind to have you.’ 
+
+BLTs. © vit, 9. ‘commends’; Warburton’s 
+emendation, adopted by Theobald; Folios, 
+“commands’ (perhaps—=‘commands_ to be 
+given ’). 
+
+TV. ii. 132. ‘humour’; Theobald’s emenda- 
+tion of Folios, ‘ honor.’ 
+
+IV. ii. 168. ‘parish’; Hanmer, “ marish’ ; 
+Garrick’s version, ‘river’; Becket conjectured 
+* parage.’ 
+
+IV. ii. 224. ‘The ruddock,’ &c.; the kindly 
+service of the Robin Redbreast is often re- 
+ferred to in Elizabethan literature, e.g. 
+
+
+“Covering with moss the dead’s unclosed eye, 
+The little redbreast teacheth charitie,” 
+Drayton, The Owl. 
+
+
+It is worth while noting that the story of 
+The Babes in the Wood was dramatised as 
+early as 1600 in Yarrington’s Two Lamentable 
+Tragedies. 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+1395 
+
+
+IV. iii. 36. ‘I heard no letter,’ 
+not had a line’; Hanmer reads 
+Capell, “I have had’; 
+
+
+tie. (?) ‘T’ve 
+“I’ve had’; 
+Mason conjecture, and 
+
+
+Warburton conjecture, adopted by Collier 
+(ed. 2), ‘I had.’ 
+V. i. 15. ‘dread it, to the doers’ thrift’; 
+
+
+perhaps this means that the guilty benefit by 
+their dread, for their dread makes them re- 
+pent, and .repentance brings them salvation. 
+Theobald suggested ‘ dreaded . . thrift’; but 
+the text, though somewhat dificult, may be 
+correct. 
+
+V. iii. 26. ‘that,’ i.e. ‘that death.’ 
+
+V. iii. 43. ‘they’; Theobald’s correction of 
+Folios, ‘the’; i.e. “retracing as slaves the 
+strides they made as victors.’ 
+
+V. iii. 53. ‘Nay, do not wonder’; Theobald 
+reads ‘Nay, do but wonder’; Staunton con- 
+jectured ‘Ay, do but wonder’; ** Posthumus 
+first bids him not wonder, then tells him in 
+another mode of reproach that wonder was 
+all he was made for” (Johnson). 
+
+V. v. 54. “and in time’; so Folios 1; Folios 
+2, 3, 4, “yes and in time’; S. Walker con- 
+jectured ‘and in due time,’ &c. 
+
+V. v. 263. The stage-direction was first in- 
+serted by Hanmer, and explains the meaning 
+of the lines, and gets rid of a long series of 
+unnecessary emendations. 
+
+Vv. 305. ‘scar’; ‘had ever s. 
+had ever received a scar for; Folios 1, 2, 
+“scarre’; Collier conjectured “sense’; Singer 
+(ed. 2), ‘score’; Bailey conjectured ‘ soar.’ 
+
+V. v. 378. ‘When ye’; Rowe’s emendation 
+of Folios, ‘When we’; Capell, ‘When you.’ 
+
+V. v. 382. ‘ fierce,’ disordered; (?) vehe- 
+ment, rapid; Collier conjectured “forcd” 
+Bailey conjectured ‘ brief.’ 
+
+- V. 384. ‘distinction should be rich tn,' 
+i.e. “Ought to be rendered distinct by a lib- 
+eral amplitude of narrative ” (Steevens). 
+
+V. v. 302. “our long inter’gatories’; Tyr- 
+whitt conjecture, adopted by Malone; Folios, 
+“our long Interrogatories,’ 
+
+
+for,’ i.e. 
+
+
+Pericles—Notes 
+
+
+~~ I. i. 24. ‘boundless’; Rowe’s emendation of 
+
+
+Quartos; Folios 3, 4, ‘ bondlesse.’ r 
+
+I. i. 29. ‘ death-like dragons here affright ’; 
+“Daniel conjectured ‘death, like dragons, here 
+affrights’; S. Walker conjectured ‘ affront’; 
+Hudson conjectured ‘ afronts.’ 
+
+I. i. 55-57. The arrangement of the text, 
+conftised in Quartos and Folios, was first 
+made by Malone. 
+
+“I. 1. 59, 60. ‘ Of all ’say’d yet’; Mason con- 
+jectured “In all, save that’; Mitford conjec- 
+tured ‘O false! and yet.’ 
+
+I. i. 113. ‘ cancel of’; Malone’s emendation; 
+
+
+Folios 3, 4, “cancel off’; Quartos 1, 2,-3, 4, | 
+
+
+6. ‘ counseil of’; Quarto =.‘ counsel of.’ 
+
+I. i. 128. ‘ untinely’; Wilkins, in the Novel. 
+writes “uncomely,’ which may, perhaps, give 
+the correct reading of the line. ais 
+
+- 1. 135..‘ blush,’ t.e. ‘who blush *; >the 
+omission of the pronoun, personal or relative, 
+is characteristic of the non-Shakespearian por- 
+tions of the play. 
+
+
+I. ii. 1. ‘change of thoughts.’ i.e. perturba- 
+
+
+| 
+
+
+tion of thought; 
+
+
+‘ay i Steevens conjectured * charge 
+of thoughts?’ ; 
+
+
+Mason conjectured ‘ change of 
+
+
+thoughts?’; Singer (ed. 2), ‘charge our 
+thoughts?’; Staunton conjectured ‘ change our 
+thoughts?’; Bailey conjectured ‘child of 
+
+
+thought’; Daniel conjectured ‘ cast of thought.’ 
+
+I. ii. 3. ‘Be my so used a guest as "; Dyce’s 
+emendation; Quarto 1, ‘By me so usde a guest, 
+as’; Malone (1780), ‘ By me’s so us’d a guest, 
+as’; Jackson conjectured ‘ Be by me so ms’d 
+a guest?’ 
+
+I. ii. 8. ‘arm’; so Folio 4; Dyce reads 
+© aim.” 
+
+I. ii. 30. ‘Who am’; Farmer conjectured: 
+Quartos, Folios 3, 4, ‘Whe once’; Malone 
+(1780), “Who owe’; (1790), “Who wants’ 
+
+I. ii. art. ‘ blast’; Mason coniectured; Quar- 
+tos, Folios 3, 4, ‘spark’; Malone (1790), 
+“ breath’; Steevens conjectured ‘ wind.’ 
+
+I. ii, 55. ‘plants’; so Quarto 1; Malone’s 
+emendation of Quartos and Folios, ‘ planets.’ 
+
+I. ii. 86. ‘doubt it’; Steevens conjectured; 
+
+
+NOTES _ 
+
+
+1396 
+Quartos 1, 2, 3, ‘doo’t’; Quartos.4, 5, 6, and 
+Folios, ‘ thixke.’ 
+
+I. ii. 93. ‘spares’; so Quarto 1; Quartos 
+
+
+2-6, and Folios 3, 4, “ feares’ and ‘ fears.’ 
+
+I. ii. 95. ‘reprovest’; Malone, ‘reprov’st’; 
+Quartos 1, 2, 3, ‘ reprou’dst’; Quartos 4, 5, 6, 
+“repravedst’; Folios 3, 4, ‘ reproved’st.’ 
+
+I. iii, 4-7. Cp. “I will therefore commend 
+the poet Philipides, who, being demanded by 
+King Lisimachus what favour he might do unto 
+him, for that he loved him, made him answer 
+to the king, that your Majesty would never 
+impart unto me any of your secrets,’—Barna- 
+bie Riche’s Soldier's Wish to Briton’s Wel- 
+fare. 
+
+I. iii. 27-28. ‘ but since he’s gone, the king’s 
+seas must please’; Mason conjectured ‘ But 
+since he is gone, the king, seas must please’; 
+Percy conjectured ‘But since he’s gone, the 
+king it sure must please’; Collier (ed. 2), ‘ But 
+since he is gone the king’s ease must please’; 
+Perring conjectured ‘ But since he’s gone, the 
+king this news must please’; Dyce conjectured 
+‘But since he’s gone the king’s ears tt must 
+please. 
+
+I. iv. 8. ‘ mischief’s eyes’; Steevens, ‘ mtst- 
+ful eyes’; Anonymous conjecture (1814), 
+
+* mischief-size Singer (ed. 2), ‘ mistie eyes’; 
+S. Walker conjectured « misery’s eyes’; Kin- 
+near conjectured ‘ weakness’ eyes’; Mr. T. 
+Tyler’s suggestion, ‘not seen with mischief’s 
+eyes, i.e. ‘not seen with the eyes of despair,’ 
+seems to be the most ingenious correction of 
+the line, if any change is necessary. 
+
+I. iv. 13-14. ‘Our tongues and sorrows do 
+sound deep Our woes’; Hudson reads ‘ Our 
+tongues do sound our sorrows and deep woes’ 
+; ‘sorrows do’; Cartwright conjectured 
+‘sobbings do’; Bailey conjectured ‘bosoms 
+too’; Anenymous conjecture, ‘ sorrowing 
+bosoms do.’ 
+
+Ty ava: 35>. tongues’ Quartosoir,.. 2,\/ 3, 
+“toungs’; Steevens conjectured ‘ Jungs.’ 
+
+I. iv. 39. ‘yet two summers younger’; Ma- 
+son conjectured ; Quarto 1, ‘yet too sauers 
+younger Folios 3, 4, ‘yet to savers younger.’ 
+
+I. iv. 60. ‘of unhappy me’; Malone (1780), 
+“of unhappy men’; Steevens conjectured ‘ of 
+unhappy we’; Jackson conjectured ‘O unhappy 
+me.” 
+
+I. iv. 74. ‘him’s,’ t.e. ‘him who is’; Ma- 
+Jone’s reading; Quarto 1, ‘ himnes’; Quarto 2, 
+3, Folio 3, “ hymnes’; Quartos 4, 5, ‘hymnes’; 
+Quarto 6, ‘hywmes’; Folio 4, ‘hymns’; 
+Steevens conjectured ‘him who 4s.” 
+
+Prof ORT. 19. ‘for though’; 
+‘forth’; Singer (ed. 2), | for thy? 
+conjectured ‘ for-though’; Kinnear 
+tured ‘ for through’ 
+
+
+Steevens, 
+; Nicholson 
+conjec- 
+
+
+Prol. II. 22. ‘Sends word’; Steevens con- 
+jectured; Quartos 1-5 read ‘Sau’d one’; 
+Quarto 6, Folios 3, 4, ‘Sav’d one.’ 
+
+Il. i. 52. ‘finny’; Steevens conjectured 
+(from Wilkins’ novel); Quartos, Folios 3, 4, 
+“fenny.’ 
+
+Ii. i. 58. ‘search’; Steevens conjectured 
+“scratch it’; Singer (ed. 2), ‘ scratch’t’; 
+Staunton, ‘scratch’; Anonymous conjecture, 
+“ steal it’; Hudson, ‘ steal’t.’ 
+
+Il. i. 60. ‘Mav see the sea hath cast upon 
+
+
+your coast’; so Quartos; Folios 3, 4, ‘ Y’ may 
+s¢e the sea hath cast me upon your coast’ 
+Malone (1780), ‘ You may see the sea hath cast 
+me on your coast’ 
+
+
+; Steeveus, adopted by Ma-!) 
+
+
+lone (1790), * Nay, see, the sea bed cast. upon : 
+your coast—,’ , 
+
+Il. ii. 14. ‘ entertain’; Steevens cotter 
+‘explain’; Anonymous “conjecture, “entyeat’; 
+Anonymous conjecture, ‘ emblazon’; Schmidt , 
+
+
+conjectured ‘ interpret.’ 
+
+If. iii. 19. ‘Marshal’; Malone’s emenda- 
+tion; Quartos, Folio 3, ‘ Martiall’; Folio 4, 
+“ Marttal.’ 
+
+II. iii. 29. ‘ resist’; Collier conjectured ‘dis- 
+taste.’ ; 
+
+my he not’; so Quartos 2-6, Folios Eig 
+Malone, “she not’; Malone conjectured * he 
+
+
+now’; Steevens conjectured * be not’; Mason 
+
+
+Ee pree “she but’; Dyce conjectured “he 
+ut. 
+II. iii. 50. ‘stored’; Steevens conjectured; 
+Quartos 1, 2, 3, 6, “ stur’d ’; Folios 3, 4, 
+‘ stirr’d’ Pg eonjectured * stow’d.’ ; 
+Il. iii. ‘kill’d are wonder'd at’; Daniel, 
+still ne’ es oe dered at’ ; Anonymous conjec- 
+
+
+ture, ‘ kill’d are scorned "at? 
+are wonder’d at,’ 
+
+II. iv. 41. ‘For honour’s cause’; 
+ee Quartos, 
+cause 
+course? 
+cause !? 
+
+
+; Kinnear, ‘little — 
+Dyce’s 
+Folios 3, 4, i a honours 
+_ Steevens conjectured ‘Try honour’s 
+; Jackson conjectured “Cry, honours 
+
+‘ : Anonymous conjecture “By honour’s 
+cause. - 
+
+
+Prol, III. 35. * Y-ravished’; 
+jectured; Quarto 1, 
+
+
+Steevens con-— 
+“TIranyshed’; Quarto 2, 
+shed’; the rest, “Irony shed.’ . ‘ 
+Ill. i. 7-8. ‘Thou stormest venomously; 
+; Dyce’s reading; Quartos, Folios 3, 4, 
+storme venomously, Wilt *; Malone, 
+storm, venomously, Wilt’; Steevens, Eh 
+“Thow, storm, thou! venomously wit’; 
+lier, ‘ Thou storm, venomously Wilt.’ 
+Ill. i. 14. ‘travails’; Folio 3, 
+Dyce, ‘ Basi tage } 
+Ile: “Use honour with you’ > Steevens uy , 
+reads Vie honour with yourselves’; f Mason 
+conjectured “ Vie honour with you.’ 
+Ill. i. 63. ‘ aye-remaining lamps’; 
+conjecture; Quartgas 1, 2, 3, ‘ayre ‘remayning 
+lampes’; Quartos 4, 5s 6, “ayre rem 
+lampes’; Folio 3, “ayre remaining lamps’; 
+Folio 4, ‘ air remaining lamps’; Jackson con 
+jectured ‘ area- -manesing,” &e. 
+Ill. ii. 17. ‘all-to topple’; Singer (ed. 2), 
+“ al-to topple’; Quartos. Fotios 3, 4, ‘°all te 
+topple’; Dyce, ‘ all to- topple.’ . 
+TDR a" '22: ‘Rich tire’; Steevens conjectured 
+“ Such towers Quartos | 5 25 3) \deech fires 
+the rest, “Rich attire’ Jackson conjectured 
+© Rich Tyre’; Collier (ed. 2), ‘ Rich ‘tire.’ 
+IT war: ** treasure’ Steevens’ emendati 
+for ‘pleasures’ and “pleasure ’ of Quartos, 
+Folios 3, 4. 
+III. i, 42. Steevens explained Hie words as 
+an allusion to an old print exhibiting Death 
+in the act of plundering a miser of his bags, — 
+and the Fool standing behind, and yrinning at; 
+the process. 
+TIl. ii. 48. 
+
+
+s travels”; 
+
+
+Malone’ s 
+
+
+“ time shall never. . . : 
+Quartos 1, 2, Quartos 4. 5. 6, Folios a ao 
+“neuer shall iScdy =. Malone, ‘time shail — 
+never—’; Dyce, ‘time shall never raze’ 
+Staunton, ‘time shall ne’er decay’; Anonym 
+ous conjecture, ‘time shall never end.’ p 
+
+III. iii. 7. ‘ wanderingly’; Quartos, Fakes’ 
+3, 4, ‘wondringly’; Schmidt conjectured 
+“ woundingty.” 
+
+III. iii. 29. ‘ Unscissar’d 
+Steevens’ emendation; Quartos 1-4, 
+
+
+shall this hair’; 
+“ unsisterd 
+
+
+7 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+1397 
+
+
+. . « heyre’; Quarto 5, ‘unsisterd shall his 
+res 7; Quarto 6, “unsisterd . . . heire’; 
+Folios 3, 4, “unsister’d . . heir. - 
+
+
+Hil. iti. go. ‘show ill’; ‘Quartos and Folios | 
+
+
+read ‘show will’; the correction was made 
+
+
+independently by Malone and Dyce; this and | 
+
+
+the previous emendations are confirmed by the 
+corresponding passage in the Novel. 
+
+
+Prol. IV. 17. “ marriage rite’; Collier’s read- | 
+ing; Percy conjectured © marriage rites’; Quar- | 
+
+
+tos, Folios 3, 4, “marriage sight’; Steevens 
+conjecture, adopted by Malone, 
+fight’; Steevens conjectured ‘ marriage night.’ 
+Prol. [V. 26. ‘ night-bird’; Malone’s emenda- 
+tion of Quartos, Fotios 3, 4, ‘ night-bed.’ 
+IV. i. 5. ‘inflaming love i thy bosom’; 
+
+
+_ Knight’s emendation of Quarto 1, ‘in flaming, | 
+
+
+thy loue bosome,’ &c. 
+
+
+TV. i. x1. ‘only mistress’ death’; Malone| 
+
+
+(2790), ‘old mistress’ death’; Percy conjec- 
+tured ‘old nurse’s death’; &c. &c. 
+
+
+, IV. i. 64. ‘ stem to stern’; Malone’s emenda- | 
+tion; Quartos, ‘sterne to sterne’; Folios 3, 4, | 
+
+
+“stern to stern. 
+
+
+IV. i. 97. ‘the great pirate Valdes’; “ per-| 
+
+
+haps there is here a scornful allusion to Don 
+
+
+Pedro de Valdes, a Spanish admiral taken by 
+
+
+Drake in 1588”’ (Malone). 
+
+
+TV. iti. 17. “ptous’; Mason conjecture and | 
+Wiitkins’ novel, adopted by Collier; Quartos 1, | 
+
+
+2, 3, ‘impious’; the rest omit the word. 
+IV. iii. 47-48. “ dost, with thine angel's face, 
+Seize’; Malone conjectured ‘ dost wear thine 
+
+
+| 
+
+
+* marriage | 
+
+
+angel's face; Seize; Steevens, ‘doth wear an 
+angel’s face, Seize’; Hudson (1881), ‘ dotk 
+use an angel's face, Then scize.’ 
+
+IV. iii. 48. ‘talons’; Rowe’s emendation of 
+Quartos, Folios 3, 4, ‘ talents. 
+
+IV. iv. 13-16. The arrangement of the lines 
+
+is according to Hudson’s edition (1881). 
+; IV. iv. 18: ‘his pilot thought’; Steevens 
+conjectured ‘kis pilot wrought’; Mason con- 
+jectured ‘ this pilot-thought’; Quartos 1, 2, 3, 
+“this Pilot thought’; the rest, ‘this Pilate 
+thought.’ 
+
+IV. iv. 48. ‘scene must play’; Malone’s 
+emendation (1790); Quartos, Folios 3, 4 read 
+|‘ Steare must play’; Steevens conj-cture, 
+adopted by Malone (1780), ‘tears must play’; 
+Malone conjectured ‘stage must piay’; 
+Steevens, “ scenes display.’ 
+
+Vi. i. 47. ‘ deafen’d ’; Malone’s emendation; 
+| Quarto 1, ‘ defend’; the rest, ‘ defended.’ 
+| V. i.-72. ‘ prosperous ana artificial feat’; i.e. 
+| ‘gracefully and skilfully performed’; Mason 
+conjectured ‘prosperous artifice and fate’; 
+Steevens, ‘ prosperous-artificial feat’: 
+
+; ‘feat’; Percy conjecture, adopted by 
+Steevens, Quartos, Folios 3, 4, ‘ fate.’ 
+
+V. i. 209-210. The passage is so corrupt 
+that the Cambridge editors found themselves 
+obliged to leave it as it stands in the Quartos 
+and Folios. 
+
+V. i. 235. ‘rips’; Collier conjectured ‘ raps.’ 
+| V. i. 247. ‘life’; Charlemont conjectured, 
+| adopted by Malone; Quartos, Folios 3, 4, ‘ like.” 
+
+
+Venus and Adonis—Notes 
+
+
+Venus anp Aponis; 156. ‘ shouldst’; Quarto 
+1, ‘ should.’ 
+
+171. ch. Sonnet I. 
+
+2it. ‘lifeless’; Quartos 1, 2, 3, ‘ linelesse’ 
+
+213. “Statue”; Quartos 1, 2, 3, ‘ Siatiie’; 
+ep. 1. 1013; Quartos 3, 4, ‘ statiies.’ 
+
+231; 2393 
+* deare’ 
+
+272. ‘stand, so 
+* stands.” 
+
+283. ‘stir’; Quartos 1, 2, 3, ‘sturre. 
+
+304. ‘And whether’; Quartos, ‘ And where’ 
+lie. ‘wherer’). 
+
+334; 402. ‘fire’; Quartos 1, 2, 3, ‘fier’; but 
+‘fire, 1. 494 (rhyming with “ desire’). 
+
+353- ‘tenderer’; Quarto 1, ‘tendrer’; the 
+rest, “tender.” ; 
+
+362. ‘goal’; Quartos, ‘ gaile’; ‘ Iaile.’ F 
+
+392. ‘ master’d’; Quartos 1, 2, 3, “ mais- 
+ferd’; cp. t. 114; ‘ mastering’; Quartos 1, 2, 
+3, “ maistring.’ i 
+, ‘rein’; Quartos 1-10, ‘ raine.’ 
+429. ‘mermaid’s’; early Quartos, “ mar- 
+maides’; “marmaids’; cp. 1. 777; Quartos 1, 
+2, 3. ‘marmaids’; Quarto 4, ‘ mirmatdes.” _ 
+
+434. ‘invisible’; Steevens conjectured ‘ in- 
+vincible.’ 
+
+454. ‘wreck’; Quartos. 
+(cp. 1. 558). 
+
+466. “ bankrupt’ ; Quartos, 
+* banckrout,’ ‘ banquerout.’ 
+
+466. ‘love’; S. Walker conjectured ‘loss.’ 
+
+507. ‘verdure’; Quartos 1, 2, 3, “verdour.’ 
+
+529. ‘gait’; Quartos, ‘ gate.’ 
+
+547- ‘ prey’; Quartos, ‘ pray’ (though rhym- 
+
+
+Quartos 1-4; the rest 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+‘wracke,” ‘ wrack 
+
+
+> 
+
+
+* bankrout, 
+
+
+689. ‘deer’; Quartos 1, 2, ae 
+
+
+ing with “obey ’); so “ prayes,’ 1. 724, and 
+bray’; (rhyming with ‘ day’), 1. 1007. 
+567. ‘venturing’; Quartos, ‘ ventring.’ 
+599. “ Tantalus’; Quartos, ‘ Tantalus.’ 
+| 628. ‘venture’; Quartos, “venter’ (rhym- 
+ing with ‘ enter’). 
+632. “eyes pay’; Quartos 1, 2, ‘eye pastes.” 
+680. ‘ overshoot,’ Steevens conjecture; 
+| Quartos 1, 2, 3, “ over-shut.’ 
+| 705. ‘doth’; Quartos 1, 2, 3, ‘do.’ 
+743. ‘imposthumes’; Quartos, ‘ tmpostumes.” 
+
+
+781. ‘run’; Quartos 1, 2, 3, ‘ronne’ (rhym- 
+| ing with ‘ undone’). 
+832. ‘deeply’; S. Walker conjectured 
+
+| “ doubly.’ 
+
+902. “ together’; Quartos, ‘ togither’ (rhym- 
+ing with ‘ whither’); sp. 1. 971; Quartos 1, 2, 
+3, ‘all together’ (rhyming with ‘ weather); 
+Quarto 4, ‘ altogither. 
+
+940. ‘ random’; Quartos 1-4, ‘ randon.’ 
+| 
+
+
+903. ‘all to nought’ (rhyming with 
+‘ wrought’); Dyce, ‘all-to naught’; Delius, 
+‘all-to naught. 
+
+1002. ‘decease’; early Quartos, ‘ decesse’ 
+
+
+(rhyming with ‘ confess’). 
+
+1013-1014. ‘ stories His’; Theobald’s conjec- 
+ture; Quartos, ‘ stories, Hts.’ 
+| (104%, ‘ugly’; Quarto 1, ‘ oughly.’ 
+| 1067. ‘limb’; Quartos, ‘ lim.’ 
+| 1117. ‘ been’; Quarto 1, ‘ bin.’ 
+T155. ‘severe’; early Quartos, 
+(rhyming with ‘ fear’). 
+
+1161. ‘servile’; Quartos 1, 2, ‘ serutll’; cp. 
+line 392, ‘ servilely’; Quartos 1, 2, 3, ‘ Sem 
+uilly.” 
+
+
+seveare’” 
+
+
+1398 NOTES 
+és en SSS 
+The Rape of Lucrece—Notes 
+LUCRECE; ‘unhappily; "tOuartosn,, 2,53; 637. t.c. ‘““ who, in consequence of their own 
+“unhap’ ly. misdeeds, look with indifference on the of- 
+24. ‘morning’s’; Quarto 1 (Bodl. 1),| fences of others’? (Schmidt). 
+“morning” . 649. ‘debt’; early Quartos, ‘det’ (rhyming 
+31. ‘apologies’; Quarto 1 (Bodl. 1), “ap-| with ‘ fret’); similarly 1. 696, ‘ balk’; ; Quartos, 
+pologie.’ ‘ , “bauk’ (rhyming with ‘ hawk’). 
+56. ' o'er”; Quartos 1, 2, on ore Crarto 782. ‘misty’; Quartos 1, 2, ‘ mustie.’ 
+4, ‘ore’ " ndatoue (1780), * (i.e. gold). 841. ‘ guilty’; Malone, ‘ guil'less,) but no 
+
+
+134- 136. Many epenactons: have been pro- 
+posed to render clear the meaning of these 
+lines, but no change is necessary: “the cov- 
+etous have not, 7.e. do not possess, that which 
+they possess, longing for the possessions of 
+others’; the second clause of line 135 is in 
+apposition to the first. 
+
+195. ‘let’; Schmidt conjectured ‘ lest.’ 
+
+239. ‘ay, tf’; early Quartos, ‘I, if.’ 
+
+
+} 
+
+
+change is necessary; Lucrece’s self-reproach at 
+first assigns the guilt to herself. 
+930. Perhaps we should read, 
+shifting Time.’ 
+1134. ‘descant’st’; Quartos, ‘ descants.’ 
+1338. ‘ court’sies’; Quartos, ‘ cursies.’ 
+1662. ‘wretched’; S. Walker conjectured 
+‘ wreathed.’ 
+
+
+“ injurious- 
+
+
+Sonnets—Notes 
+
+
+XII. 4. ‘And. . all’; so Malone.. Quar- 
+to, “And. WiOk.. 
+
+XVI On tS, ee PEM OUatton buts 
+(Time’s pensel or my pupill pen). Massey 
+conjectured ‘this time’s pencil, or my pupil 
+pen’; this reading is accepted by several ed- 
+
+
+itors, who interpret the first clause to refer 
+either to some particular artist, or to any 
+painter of the time. 
+
+XIJ. 5. ‘feet’st’; so Quarto; Dyce, 
+(rhyming with ‘ sweets’); cp. VIII. 7. 
+
+XX 7.) hue, all “hues??;* Quarto, 
+all Hews’ (Hews in italics). 
+
+XXI. 5. ‘ couplement ’; 
+ment.” 
+
+DONO e Os 10) CWE trae ee hs quite ’; 
+(Theobald conjectured) ; Quarto, 
+quite.’ Theobald conjectured 
+forth’; Capell MS., ‘ might . 
+
+XXVIL. 10. ‘thy’; Quarto, 
+mon mistake in the Sonnets, 
+
+
+“ fleets’ 
+‘hew 
+
+
+Quarto, ‘ coopel- 
+Malone 
+“worth ss 
+Cowort lige. 
+-~ quite.’ 
+
+‘their’; a com- 
+evidently due to 
+
+
+the ‘y’ being taken , for “e’ with the mark 
+of contraction for ‘ ir.’ 
+
+XVII 13 rg longera. « strength 
+seem stronger’; Capell MS. and Collier con- 
+jecture; Quarto, ‘longer . length seeme 
+stronger.’ F 
+
+XXXI. 8. ‘ thee’; Quarto, ‘ there.’ 
+
+XXXIV. 10-12. ‘ loss cross’; Quarto, 
+Mossch nt. 4 LOSSex. 
+
+XXXIV. 13. ‘sheds’; Quarto, ‘ sheeds’ 
+(rhyming with ‘ deeds ). 
+
+XXIX. ‘doth’ Quarto. “ dost.’ 
+CORP ‘ thyself *; Quarto, ‘this selfe.’ 
+XLI. 8. ‘ she have’ Tyrwhitt conjectured; 
+
+Quarto. ‘ he haue’ "Ewing, “ he has.’ 
+
+2G OYA MRM & ‘not,’ so ed. 1640; Quarto, 
+“nore 
+
+XLIX. 1o. ‘desert’ Quarto, ‘ desart’ 
+(rhyming with * part oye? 
+
+br 11. “neigh—no dull flesh— (Malone); 
+Quarto, ‘naigh noe dull flesh’; probably the 
+reading of the Ouarto 1s correct. neteh 
+
+
+“neigh after,’ ‘neigh to,’ cp. “They were fed 
+
+
+horses in the morning; everyone neighed after 
+his neighbour’s wife,’’ Jeremiah v. 8. 
+. I. 7 monuments’; Quarto, © monument.’ 
+
+LVI. 13. ‘Or’; Tyrwhitt conjecture and 
+Capell MS.; Quarto, ‘As’; Anonymous con- 
+jecture, * Ah!’;_‘ Else.’ 
+
+LVII. 13. ‘will’; Quarto, ‘ Will’; Massey 
+conjectured “ ‘ Will,’ ’’ 
+
+LXII. 7. ‘And for myself,’ t.e. ‘and for my 
+own satisfaction,’ or perhaps the words merely 
+emphasize the statement. 
+
+1D QUO NEE, Sof; Malone; Quarto, Or, 7oGa- 
+pell MS., ‘ o'er’, Gildon, ‘ on. 
+
+LXIX. 3. ‘that due’; Capell MS. and Tyr- 
+whitt conjecture; Quarto ‘that end’; Sewell 
+(ed. 2), ‘thy due.’ 
+
+LXX. 1. ‘art,’ ed, 1640; Quarto, ‘ are.” 
+
+. ‘Thy’; Capell MS.; Quarto, * their,’ 
+
+TEX eas “ Bare ruin’a choirs’ ; Quarto, 
+
+“Bare rn'wd quiers.’ 
+
+LXXIV. 14. ‘ that ts this,’ 
+my poetry. 
+
+
+i.e. my spirit is 
+
+
+LXXVE.' 7. ‘tell.’ Canell, MS), Oiarto, 
+‘fel’; Lintott, ‘ fell’; Nicholson conjectured 
+* spell.’ 
+
+LXXVII. “‘ Probably this sonnet was de- 
+
+
+signed to accompany a present of a book con- 
+sisting of blank paper’? (Steevens). 
+
+LXXXV. 3. ‘ Reserve their’; Tyler (Anon. 
+conj. MS.), ‘ Rehearse thy’ a more plausible 
+reading than ‘ preserve their,’ ‘ deserve their, 
+&c., and other suggestions which have been 
+advanced: there is probably some error in the 
+text as printed, 
+
+
+pean 13. ‘fill’d’; Quarto, ‘fld’; Ma- 
+
+
+, cp. Edward III. ii. 
+1506) :— 
+“Poison shows worst in a golden cup; 
+Ben | night seems darker by the lightning 
+ash; 
+Lilies that fester seem far worse than weeds; 
+And every glory, that inclines to sin, 
+The same ts treble by the opposite.” 
+
+
+1 (printed in 
+
+
+NOTES 
+
+
+1399 
+
+
+XCV. 12. ‘turn’; Quarto, ‘ turnes.’ 
+serves as a sort of introduction, standing out- 
+side the sonnet. 
+
+'XCIX. 15. ‘ sweet’; S. Walker conjectured, 
+
+
+CII. 8. ‘ her,’ Houseman; Quarto, ‘ his.’ 
+CVI. rz. ‘skill’; Tyrwhitt conjecture and 
+Capell MS.; Quarto, ‘ still.’ 
+
+CVII. 8. It has been suggested that this is 
+a possible allusion to the peace completed in 
+1609, which ended the war between Spain and 
+the United Provinces; but this is merely a 
+random suggestion. 
+
+CVIII. 3. ‘new . . . new,’ Malone; Quarto, 
+
+
+‘new .. . now’; S. Walker conjectured 
+‘now... now.’ 
+
+CXII. 8. ‘ or changes’; Malone conjectured 
+*e’er changes’; Knight conjectured ‘so 
+changes.’ 
+
+14. ‘ besides methinks are,’ Capell MS. and 
+Steevens conjecture; Quarto, ‘besides +e 
+thinkes y’ are’; Dyce, ‘besides methinks 
+they ’re.’ 
+
+
+CXIII. 6. ‘latch’; Quarto, ‘ lack.’ 
+
+14. ‘ maketh mine untrue’; so Quarto; Ca- 
+pell MS., and Malone conjecture ‘ makes mine 
+eye untrue’; Collier conjectured ‘ maketh my 
+eyne untrue’; Malone conjectured ‘thy most 
+‘enue mind maketh mine untrue.’ 
+
+CXIX. 14. ‘ill,’ Malone; Quarto, ‘ ills.’ 
+
+CXX. 6. ‘ you've’; Quarto, ‘ y’haue.’ 
+
+
+CXXIII. 7. ‘them, i.e. ‘what thou dost 
+foist upon us.’ 
+CXXIV. 13-14. ‘The fools of time,’ &c. 
+
+
+Tyler sees in these lines a reference to the 
+popular repute of Essex as the ‘‘ good earl,” 
+notwithstanding the ‘‘crimes’’ for which he 
+are certainly his companions were executed; 
+the allusion is probably more general, and per- 
+haps, as Palgrave observes, to ‘“‘ the plotters 
+and political martyrs uf the time.” 
+
+CXXVI. This short poem is of six rhymed 
+couplets; it was evidently not intended to pass 
+as an-ordinary sonnet, though after the last 
+
+
+XCIX. A fifteen-lined sonnet; the first line , 
+
+
+line an omission of two lings is marked in 
+the Quarto by two pairs of parentheses. It is 
+the envoy, the conclusion of one series of 
+sonnets. 
+
+2. ‘stckle, hour’; Quarto, ‘ sickle, hower’; 
+perhaps we should read ‘sickle hour’; other 
+suggestions, unsatisfactory for the most part, 
+are, ‘fickle mower’; ‘fickle hoar’; ‘ sickle 
+hear’; &c. 
+
+CXXVII. 9-10. ‘eyes . . 
+Capell MS., ‘eyes . . . hairs’; S. Walker 
+and Delius conjecture‘ hairs . . . eyes’; 
+Staunton and Brae conjecture ‘brows . 
+eyes,’ &e, 
+
+CXXIX. 11. ‘ proved, a very,’ Capell MS.; 
+Quarto, ‘ proud and very.’ 
+
+CXXXV. 13. ‘no unkind, no’; Dowden con- 
+jectured ‘no unkind “ No’’’; Rosetti proposed 
+* skill,’ i.e. ‘avail’ instead of ‘ kill.’ 
+
+CXXXVII. cp. Passionate PILGRIM, i. 
+
+CXLII. 6-7. cb. Epwarp If. ii. 1:—‘ His 
+cheeks put on their scarlet ornaments.’ 
+
+CXLIII. 1. ‘ housewife’; Quarto, ‘ huswife. 
+
+13. ‘have thy “Will” ’: 7.e. Shakespeare’s 
+friend Will, not himself. 
+
+CXLIV. cp. PasstonaTE PILGRIM, ii. 
+
+6. ‘side,’ so Passionate Pilgrim, and Capel] 
+MS.; Quarto, ‘ sight.’ 
+
+9. ‘fend’; Quarto, ‘finde’; Passionate Pil- 
+grim, ‘ feend.’ 
+
+CXLV. The only sonnet in Shakespeare in 
+eight-syllable verse. 
+
+
+- eyes,’ Quarto; 
+
+
+CXEVE. [1-250 earthawen tanvan (Ehese eer ae 
+Quarto, ‘earth, My sinfull earth these rebbell’ ; 
+Malone, ‘earth, Fool’d by those rebel’; 
+
+
+Steevens, ‘ earth, Staruv’d by the rebel’; Dow- 
+den, ‘earth [Press’d by] these rebel, &c. 
+Probably any one of these readings comes 
+near the original; in this case array = clothe. 
+Ingleby renders the word “‘ abuse, afflict, ill- 
+treat’; he reads, ‘leagu’d with,’ and takes the 
+participle in close conjunction with ‘ earth.’ 
+This rendering is ingenious, but very doubt- 
+
+
+ul. 
+CLIT 13. £275 Ouartoneves 
+
+
+A Lover’s Complaint—Notes 
+
+
+‘ 
+
+
+A Lover’s 
+Quarto, ‘ sithed.’ 
+.” 37. ‘beaded’; Quarto, ‘bedded’ (? = “im- 
+bedded, set ’’). 
+
+39. ‘ weeping margent’; Malone conjectured 
+“margent weeping.’ 
+
+51. ‘’gan to tear’; Quarto, ‘ gaue to teare’; 
+Gildon, ‘ gave a tear.’ 
+
+60. ‘ observed as they flew’; the clause is 
+probably connected with ‘hours’; “the rev- 
+erend man had not let the swift hours pass 
+by without gaining some knowledge of the 
+world”; it is possible, however, that ‘they’ 
+refers to the torn-up letters. 
+
+112. manage; Quarto, ‘ mannad’g.’ 
+
+118. ‘came’; Sewell’s correction; Quarto, 
+‘can’; Sewell’s 2nd ed., ‘can for additions 
+get their purpose trim.’ 
+
+182. ‘woe’; Onarto, ‘vow. 
+
+164. ‘sweets that seem’; Quarto, ‘ sweets 
+that seemes’; Capell MS., ‘ sweet that seems.’ 
+
+
+CompLaint; 12. ‘ scythed’; 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+228. ‘ Hallow’d’; Quarto, 
+ell’s correction. 
+
+24r. ‘ playing the place’; some error due to 
+the printer has spoilt the line; the first word 
+of the line has been caught up by the com- 
+positor’s eye from the first of the next line, 
+or vice versa: the most ingenious and plausi- 
+ble emendation is ‘ paling’ for ‘ playing’ 
+
+260. ‘nun’; Quarto, ‘ Sunne.’ 
+
+261. ‘ay’; Quarto, ‘I.’ 
+
+271. ‘ Love’s arms are peace’; so Quarto; 
+Capell MS. and Malone conjecture, ‘ proof” 
+for ‘ peace,’ a plausible change, if any is neces- 
+sary; other readings are:—‘ Love aims at 
+peace’; ‘Love charms our peace’; “ Love aims 
+a piece’; &c. 
+
+286. ‘who glaz’d with crystal gate’; Ma- 
+tone, ‘who, glaz’d with crystal, gate’ (i.e. 
+gate — “the ancient perfect tense of the verb 
+to get,” flame being its object). 
+
+308. ‘swound’; Quarto, ‘ sound,’ 
+“swounding ’; Quarto, ‘ sounding.’ 
+
+
+hollowed’; Sew- 
+
+
+ch, 305. 
+
+
+THe Passtonate Pircrim: I., II.; cp. Son- 
+NETS, CXxxXvili., cxliv. 
+
+Tlf. V. XVII.; cp. Love’s Lasour Lost, 
+EVeuaiiE i 73; IV. ii. 109-122; IV. iii. 101-120. 
+
+Vill. John Dowland was one of the 
+most haikote of Elizabethan musicians; his 
+song-books appeared in 1597, 1600, and 1603; 
+his ‘‘ Pilgrim’s Solace,” 1612. There are many 
+references to him in Elizabethan and later lit- 
+erature, more especially to his ‘ Lachryme, 
+or, Seven Tears figured in seven heavenlie 
+
+
+Pavans’ (1605); (cp. Bullen’s Lyrics from 
+Elizabethan Song-Books). 
+XII. 12. ‘ stay’st’; old eds. ‘ states.’ 
+
+
+“from a 
+Mag. 
+
+
+XIII. Two copies of this poem 
+corrected MS.” were printed in Gent. 
+
+
+XX. 521; Xxx. 39; the variants do not improve 
+the poem. 
+
+XV. 8. ‘And drives’; perhaps we should 
+read, (Anon. conj.). 
+
+
+ae daylight drives’ 
+3 ‘ Love's denying ” n Malone’s con- 
+jecture; old eds., ‘Love is dying’; England’s 
+Helicon, ‘Love is denying.” 
+
+ie “renying* ; ed. 1599, “nenying.’ 
+© Love hath forlorn me Steevens con- 
+
+
+Focused “Love forlorn I.’ 
+
+31-32. My sighs . . . Procure to’; edd. 
+1599, 1612, ‘With sighes . . . procures to’; 
+the reading of the text is Malone’s. 
+
+43. * back peeping’; edd. 1599, 1612, ‘ blacke 
+peeping.’ 
+
+XIX. 4. ‘fancy, partial wight’; Capell MS. 
+and Malone conjecture Rithdeawee edd. 1599, 
+1612, ‘fancy (party all might)’; ed. 1640, 
+* fancy partly all might)’; Malone (from MS. 
+copy), ‘ fancy, partial like,’ see (from MS. 
+copy), ‘partial fancy like’ Steevens conjec- 
+
+
+The Passionate Pilgrim—Notes 
+
+
+tured ‘fancy, partial tike’; Furnivall cont 
+
+Wee. fancy’s partial might.’ , 
+
+“There is no heaven, by holy then’; the ; 
+
+ee has been variously emended; Malone reads | 
+
+from an old MS,:— 
+
+“ Here is no heaven ; they holy then 
+Begin, when,’ &c. 
+
+
+No satisfactory emendation has been proposed, — 
+and perhaps the original reading may be al- iy 
+
+
+lewed to stand without the comma after — 
+
+“ heaven’ ;—‘ there is no jreaven by holy then,’ — i 
+
+t.e. ‘by that holy time’; others suggest, ‘be © 
+
+holy abe | or ‘by the holy then, &c.. BE ce 
+xO “Live with me, and be my love * ane 
+
+
+Exelaed! 's Helicon and other early versions the | 
+line runs, ‘Come live with me,’ &c., and in ‘this 
+way it is usually quoted. Two verses found 
+in England’s Helicon are omitted in the pres- — 
+
+
+ent version, but included in the 1640 20.5 48 
+where ‘“Love’s Answer” is also in six qua- — 
+trains, the additional matter was evidently — 
+
+
+also derived from England’s Helicon, — rARtes, 
+1. 12 the following lines are inseriesags zi 
+
+
+“ 4 gown made of the finest wool, 
+Which from our pretty Lambs we pu 
+Fair lined slippers for the cold, 
+With buckles of the purest gold. i 
+
+
+The last stanza runs thus:— 
+
+
+“ The shepherd’s swains shall dance and sing, 
+For thy delight each May morning; xine 
+If these delights thy mind may spies 
+Then live with me and be my love.” 
+
+
+* 
+
+
+a 
+
+
+‘Advised, ».p. considerate. 
+
+
+_ Alder-liefest, adj. most loved of all. 
+
+
+GLOSSARY 
+
+
+‘Asate, v.t. to shotten. M. N’s Dr. 11. 2.. To 
+
+
+cast down, Cor. 1. 3. To blunt. R. 11. 
+Vv. 4. 
+Abatement, sb. diminution. Lear, 1. 4. 
+
+
+Abide. vi. to sojourn. Wint. Tale, Iv. 3. v.t. 
+to expiate (a corruption of ‘Aby’). J. C. 111. 
+1; Ibid. 111. 2. 
+
+Able, v.t. to uphold. Lear, tv. 6. 
+
+Abridgement, sb. a short play. Ham. 11. 2. 
+
+Abrook, v.t. to brook, abide. 2 H. VI. 11. 4. 
+
+Absey-Book, sb. a primer. John 1. 1. 
+
+Absolute, adj. positive, certain. Cym. tv. 7G 
+Ham. v. 2. Complete. Temp. 1. 2. 
+
+Abuse, v.t. to deceive. Lear, rv. Fe 
+
+Abuse, sb. deception. M. for M. v. 1. 
+
+Aby, v.t. to expiate a fault. M. N’s Dr. 111. 2. 
+
+Abysm, sb. abyss. Temp. 1. 2. 
+
+Accite, v.t. to cite, summon. 2 H. IV. v. 2. 
+
+Accuse, sb. accusation, 2 H. VI. m1. 1. 
+
+Achieve, v. to obtain. H. V. iv. 3. 
+
+Acknown, ~.~p. ‘to be acknown’ isto acknowl- 
+
+
+edge. Oth. 111. 3. 
+Acguittance, sb. a receipt or discharge. Ham. 
+iy; 2. 
+Action-taking, adj. litigious. Lear, 11. 2. 
+Acture, sb. action. Lover’s Com. 18s. 
+Addition, sb. title, attribute. All’s Well, 11. 
+and Crt: 2, 
+Address, v.r, to prepare oneself. 2 H. VI. v. 
+
+
+25, Fam, 1. 2. 
+Addressed, part. prepared. L’s L’s L. 11. 1. 
+
+
+Advance, v.t. to prefer, promote to honor. 
+Tim, 3. 2. wer 
+
+Advertisement, sb, admonition. Much Ado, 
+&c. v. 1. 
+
+Advertising, pr. p. attentive. M. for M. v. 1. 
+dvice, sb. consideration, 
+
+
+discretion. Two 
+Gent. 11. 4; M. for M. v. 1. 
+Advise, v. sometimes neuter, sometimes reflect- 
+ive, to consider, reflect. Tw. N. iv. 2. 
+Gom. ‘o£ EX) ve 1. 
+Advocation, sb. pleading, advocacy. Oth. mm. 4. 
+Afeard, adj. afraid. Merry Wives, 11. 4. 
+Affect, v.t. to love. Merry Wives, 11. 1. 
+Affeered, ~.p. assessed, confirmed. Mac. Iv. 3. 
+
+
+Afront, adv. in front. 1H. IV. 11. 4. 
+ Affy, v.t. to affiance. 2 H. VI. 1v. 1. To 
+ptasta 2. Ac 1. 1. 
+Agazed, ~.p. looking in amazement. 1 H. VI. 
+
+
+cy 
+_ Agiet-baby, sb. the small figure engraved on a 
+
+
+jewel. Tam. of S. 1. 2. 
+Agnise, v.t. to acknowledge, confess. Oth. 1. 3. 
+A-good, adv. a good deal, plenteously. Two 
+Gent. Iv. 4. 
+A-hold, adj. a sea-term. Temp. 1. 1. 
+Aiery, sb. the nest of a bird of prey. R. III. 
+
+
+Tg: 
+Aim, sb. a guess. Two Gent. 111. 1. 
+he Py Aaly NAe 
+
+
+els 
+
+Ale, sb. alehouse. Two Gent. 11. 5. 
+
+Allow, v. to approve. Tw. N. x. 2. 
+
+Allowance, sb. approval. Cor. 111. 2. 
+
+Ames-ace, sb. two aces, the lowest throw of the 
+dice. All’s Well, 11. 3. 
+
+Amort, adj. dead, dejected. Tam. of S. iv. 3. 
+
+An, conj. if. Much Ado, 1. 1. | 
+
+Anchor, sb. an anchorite, hermit. 
+
+
+Angel, sb. a coin, so called because it bore the 
+image of an angel. Merry Wives, 1. GH 
+Anight, adv. by night. As you Like its t1. 4; 
+
+
+Answer, sb. retaliation. Cym. v. 3. 
+
+Anthropophaginian, sb. a cannibal. Merry 
+Wives, Iv. 5. 
+
+Antick, sb, the fool in the old plays. R. II. 
+
+
+TY iz 
+
+Antre, sb. a cave. Oth. 1. 3. 
+
+Apparent, sb. heir-apparent. Wint. Tale, 1. 2, 
+
+Appeal, sb. accusation. M. for M. v. 1. 
+
+Appeal, v.t. to accuse. R. IT. 1. 1. 
+
+Appeared, ~,p, made apparent. Cor. tv. an 
+
+Apple-John, sb. a kind of apple. 1 Hen. IV. 
+TTT Se 
+
+Appointment, sb. preparation. M. for M. mr. 1. 
+
+Apprehension, sb. opinion. Much Ado, 111. 4. 
+
+Apprehensive, adj. apt to apprehend or under- 
+stand.) J. Car ai 
+
+Approbation, sb. probation. Cym. 1. ie 
+
+Approof, sb. approbation, proof. Ali’s Well, 
+1.923) Temp. itepse 
+
+
+Approve, v.t. to prove. R. II. 1. 3. To jus- 
+tify, make good. Lear, 11. 4. 
+Approver, sb. one who proves or tries. Cym. 
+
+
+Il, 4. 
+Arch, sb. chief. Lear, 11. 1. 
+Argal, a ridiculous word intended for the Latin 
+
+
+ergo. Ham. v. 1. 
+Argentine, adj. silver. Per. v. 2. 
+Argier, sb. Algiers, Temp. 1. 2. 
+
+
+Argosy, sb. originally a vessel of Ragusa or 
+Ragosa, a Ragosine; hence any ship of bur- 
+dens UMS ofiVer teas 
+
+Argument, sb. subject. Much Ado, 1. 3. 
+
+Armigero, a mistake for Armiger, the Latin 
+for Esquire. Merry Wives, 1. 1 
+
+Aroint, v.r. found only in the imperat. mood, 
+get thee gone. Mac. 1. 3; Lear, 111. 4. 
+
+A-row, adv, in a row. Com. of E. v. 1. 
+
+Articulate, v.i. to enter into articles of agree- 
+ment. Cor. I. 9. v.é. to exhibit in articles. 1 
+Pi LVenven te 
+
+Ask, v.t. to require. 2H. VI. 1. 2. 
+
+Aspect, sb. regard, looks. A. & C. 1. 5. 
+
+Aspersion, sb. sprinkling; hence blessing be- 
+cause before the Reformation benediction was 
+generally accompanied by sprinkling of holy 
+water. Temp. III. 3. 
+
+Assay, sb, attempt. M. for M. 111. 1. 
+
+Assay, v,t. to attempt, test, make proof of. 
+Merry Wives, rr. 1. 
+
+Assinego, sb. an ass. T. & Cr. 17. 1. 
+
+Assubjugate, v.t. to subjugate. T. & Cr. 1. 3. 
+
+Assurance, sb. deed of assurance. Tam. of S. 
+Iv. 2. 
+
+Assured, ~.p. betrothed. Com. of E. 111. 2. 
+
+Atomy, sb. an atom. As you Like it, m1. 2. 
+Used in contempt of a small person. 2 H. 
+T Vetiver 
+
+Atone, v.t. to put people at one, to reconcile. 
+R. II. r. 1. v7. to agree. Cor. iv. 6 
+
+Attach, v.t. to seize, lay hold on. 
+
+Com. of E. iv. 1. 
+Attasked, ~.p. taken to task, reprehended. Lear, 
+
+
+Ter) 
+Attend, v.¢, to listen to, Temp. 1. 2; M. of V. 
+
+
+Temp. IIt. 33 
+
+
+v. 1. 
+Ham. 111. 2.| Attent, adj. attentive. Ham. r. 2. 
+
+
+Ancient, sb. an ensign bearer. 1 H. IV. tv. 2.! Attorney, sb, an agent. R. III. iv. 4. 
+
+
+1401 
+
+
+1402 
+
+
+GLOSSARY 
+
+
+uve ace v.t. to employ as an agent. M. for 
+M. v. 1. To perform by an agent. Wint. 
+PaAle,ot. ks 
+
+Audacious, adj. spirited, daring, but without 
+any note of blame attached to it. L’s L’s L. 
+V. 
+
+Augur, sb, augury. Mac. Il. 4. 
+
+Authentic, adj. clothed with authority. Merry 
+Wives, II. 2, 
+
+Avaunt, int. be gone, a word of abhorrence. 
+Com. of E. Iv. 3. 
+
+Ave, int. the Latin for hail; hence acclamation. 
+M. for M. 1. 1. 
+
+Ave-Mary, sb. the angelic salutation addressed 
+to the B. Virgin Mary. 2H. VI. I. 3. 
+
+Averring, pr. p. confirming. Cym. v. 5. 
+
+Awful, adj. worshipful. Two Gent. Iv. 1. 
+
+Awkward, adj. contrary. 2H. VI. 111. 2. 
+
+
+Baccare, int. keep back. Tam. of S. 11. 1. 
+Backward, sb. the hinder part; hence, when ap- 
+plied to time, the past. Temp.I. 2. 
+
+
+Balked, p.p. heaped, as on a ridge. 1 H. IV. 
+Foaks 
+
+Ballow, sb. a cudgel. Lear, rv. 6. 
+
+Balm, sb. the oil of consecration. R. II, Iv. 
+tet HV 1. tir. 
+
+Ban, v.¢. to curse. Lucr. 1460. 
+
+Bank, v.t. to sail by the banks. John, v. 2. 
+
+
+Barm, sb. yeast. M. N’s Dr. 11. i 
+Barn, sb..a child. 1.H. IV. 11. 3. 
+Barnacle, sb. a shell-fish, supposed to produce 
+the sea-bird of the same name. Temp. Iv. 
+Base, sb. a game, sometimes called Prisoners’ 
+base. Cym. v. 3. 
+
+Bases, sb. an embroidered mantle worn by 
+knights on horseback, and reaching from the 
+middle to below the knees. Per. 11. 1. 
+
+
+Basilisk, sb. a kind of ordnance. 1 H. IV. tv. 3. 
+Basta, int. (Italian), enough. Tam. of S. 1. 1. 
+Bastard, sb, raisin wine. M for M. 11I. 2. 
+
+
+Bat- fowling, part. catching birds with a clap- 
+net by night. Temp. 1. 1. 
+
+Bate, v.i. to flutter as a hawk. 1 H. IV. v. 1. 
+
+Bate, v.t. to except. Temp. 1. To abate. 
+Much Ado, 11. 3. 
+
+Batlet, sb. a small bat, used for beating clothes. 
+As you Like it, 11. 4. 
+
+Battle, sb. army. 1 H. IV. rv. 1. 
+
+Bavin, sb. used as an adj. a piece of waste 
+
+
+II. 
+
+
+wood, applied contemptuously to anything 
+worthless. 1 H. IV. 111. 2. 
+Bawcock, sb. a fine fellow. Tw. N. 111. 4. 
+
+
+Bay, sb. the space a hs ihe main timbers of 
+the roof. M. for M. 
+
+Beadsman, sb. one iB a "bids bedes, that is, 
+prays prayers for another. Two Gent. 1. 1. 
+
+Bearing-cloth, sb. a rich cloth in which children 
+were wrapt at their christening. Wint. Tale, 
+aII. Se 
+
+Beat, v.i. tc flutter as a falcon, to meditate, 
+consider earnestly. Temp. I. 2. 
+
+Beaver, sb. the lower part of a helmet. 1 H. 
+TV.) tv. a: 
+
+Beetle, sb. a mallet, 2 H. IV. 1. 2. 
+
+Being, sb. dwelling. Cym. tf. 6. 
+
+Being, con. since, inasmuch as. A. & C. 111. 6. 
+
+Be-mete, v.t. to measure. Tam. of S. Iv. 3. 
+
+Bemeled. p.p. daubed with dirt. Tam. of S. 
+
+
+Iv. 1. 
+Bending. pr. p. stooping under a weight. 
+
+
+18% 
+V. v. Chorus. 
+Benvenuto, sb. (Italian), welcome. L’s L’s L. 
+Iv. 2. 
+Berwomask, adj. a rustic dance. M. N’s Dr. 
+Vale 
+
+
+Beshrew, int. evil befal. Com. of E. 11. 1. 
+
+
+Bestraught, Be. distraught, distracted. Induct. 
+
+to Tam. of S. ‘ 
+Beteem, v.t. to pour out. M. N’s Dr. 1. 1. # 
+Betid, ».p. happened. Temp. 1. 2. 
+Bezonian, sb. a beggarly Tpettgge 2-H. IVs 
+
+Wass 
+Biding, sb. abiding-place. Lear, iv. 6. 
+Biggen, sb. a night-cap. 2 H. IV. tv. 5s. 
+
+
+Bilberry, sb, the whortleberry. Merry Wives, 
+
+
+5. 
+Bilbo. sb. a sword, from Bilboa, a town in 
+Seas where they were made. Merry Wives, 
+
+
+Bilboes, sb. fetters or stocks. 
+Bill, 
+
+
+Ham. v. 2. 
+
+sb. a. Dill- hook, a weapon. Much Ado, 
+
+III. 3. 4 
+
+Bin=been, are. Cym. 11. 3. 
+
+Ballow, sb. a cudgel. Lear, Iv. 6, 
+
+Bird- bolt, sb. a bolt to be shot from a crossbow 
+at birds. Much Ado, 1. 1. 
+
+Birding, part. hawking at partridges. 
+Wives, III. 3. 
+
+Bisson, adj. blind. Cor, 11. a: 
+
+Blank, sb. the white mark in the middle of a 
+target; hence, oe that which is 
+aimed at. Wint. Tale, 11. 
+
+ee v.t, to start aside, thet M. for M. 
+
+
+Blent, 5 blended. M. of V. rrr. 
+
+
+Merry 
+
+
+2. ‘ 
+Blood boltered, part. smeared with blood. Mac. vd 
+
+Iv. 1. q 
+Blow, v.t. to inflate. Tw. N. 11. 5 2 
+
+
+Board, v.t. to accost. Tam. of S. 1. 2, 
+
+Bob, sb. a blow, metaph. a sarcasm. As you 
+Like it, 11. 7. 
+
+Bob, v.t. to strike, meen to ridicule, or to ob- 
+
+
+tain by raillery. & Cr. 11%. 1s Oth eva 
+Bodge, v. to botch, putes 3H. Vitae 
+Bodikin, sb. a corrupt word used as an oath, 
+’Od’s Bodikin, God’s little Body. Ham. 11, z. 
+Boitier vert (French), green box. Merry 
+Wives, I. 4. 
+Bold, v.t. to embolden,_ Lear, v. 1. 
+Bollen, adj. swollen. Lucr. 1417. 
+Bolter, sb. a sieve. 1 H. IV. 111. 3. 
+
+
+Bolted, ~.p. sifted, refined. H. V. 11.2. . = 
+
+Bolting- hutch, sb. a hutch in which meal was 
+sifted. 1 H. IV. 18 4 
+
+Bombard, sb. a barrel, a “drankand Temp. It. 2. 
+
+Bombast, sb. padding. L’s L’s L. v. 2. 
+
+Bona- roba, sb. a harlot. 2 H. IV. tar 2, 
+
+Herds sb. that to which one is bound. Lear, 
+3 
+
+Book. sb. a paper of conditions. 1H. IV. 111. 1, 
+
+Boot, sb. help, use. Tam. of S. v. 2. 4 
+
+Boot, v.t. to help, to avail. Two Gent. 1.1. ~* 
+
+Bootless, adj. without boot or advantage, use 
+
+
+less. Temp, I. 2. 
+Re sb. bots, a kind of worm. Two Gent. 
+if 
+
+
+Bore! sb, calibre of a gun; hence, metaph. size, 
+weight, importance. Ham. tv. 6. 
+Bosky, adj. covered with underwood. Temp. 
+
+
+TIIs03s 4 
+eke sb. wish, heart’s desire. M. for M. — 
+1 Hsing 
+
+
+Iv. 
+
+Bots, oh worms which infest horses. 
+Ti 4: = 
+
+Bourn, sb. a boundary. Wint. Tale, r 2. A 
+brook. Lear, 11. 6. 
+
+Brace, sb. armor for the arm, state of defence, © 
+
+
+Oth. a. 3s eens lien - 
+Brach, sb. a hound bitch. Induc. to Tam. of 
+| Braid, adj. deceitful. All’s Well, tv. 2. 
+
+
+—— ee ee 
+
+
+Bug, sb. a bugbear, a sceptre. 
+
+
+GLOSSARY 
+
+
+1403 
+
+
+a a ee 
+
+
+Brave, adj. handsome, well-dressed. Temp. r. 2. 
+
+Brave, sb. boast. John, v. 2. 
+
+Bravery, sb. finery. Tam. of S. tv. 3. 
+fulness. Ham. v. 2. 
+
+Brawl, sb. a kind of dance. L’s L’s L. 11. 1. 
+
+Breed-bate, sb. a breeder of debate, a fomenter 
+of quarrels. Merry Wives, 1. 4. 
+
+Breast, sb. voice. Tw. N. 11. 3. 
+
+Breathe, v.t. to exercise. All’s Well, 11. 3. 
+
+Breathing, pr. p. exercising. Ham. v. 2. 
+
+eptetine: adj. liable to be whipt. Tam. of S. 
+169¢ a 
+
+Breese, sb. the gadfly. A. ‘& C. 111. 8. 
+
+Bride-buck, sb. a buck given away in presents. 
+Merry Wives, v. s. 
+
+aoe, v.t. to attend one on a journey. M. for 
+
+
+Boast- 
+
+
+Rica 
+
+Brock, sb. a badger, a term of contempt. Tw. 
+N. 11 5. 
+
+Broke, v.t, to act as a procurer. All’s Well, 
+Tite, 5: 
+
+Broken, ~.p. having lost some teeth by age. 
+All’s Well, 11. 3. : 
+
+Broken music, the music of stringed instru- 
+ments. T. & Cr. ur. 1. 
+
+Broker, sb. an agent. Two Gent. 1. 2. 
+
+Brotherhood, sb. trading company. T. & Cr. 
+i -3. 
+
+Brownist, sb. a sectary, a follower of Brown, 
+the founder of the Independents. Tw. 
+IEE. 2. 
+
+Bruit, sb. noise, report, rumor. 3 H. VI. 1v. 7. 
+
+Bruit, v.t. to noise abroad. Mac. v. 7. : 
+
+Brush, sb. rude assault. 2 H. VI. v. 3; Tim. 
+
+
+iV 53. 
+Back, ab: suds or lye for washing clothes in. 
+Merry Wives, 111. 3; 2 H. VI. tv. 2. 
+Buck-basket, sb. the basket in which clothes are 
+carried to be washed. Merry Wives, 111. 5. 
+Bucking, sb. washing. Merry Wives, tl. 3. 
+Buck-washing, sb. washing in lye. Merry 
+Wives, 111. 3. 
+E15, WAG Ve Be 
+
+
+Cym. v. 3. 
+
+Bully-rook, sb. a bragging cheater. Merry 
+Wives, I. 3. 
+
+Burgonet, sb. a kind of helmet. 2H. VI. v. 1. 
+
+Burst, v.t. to break. Ind. to Tam. of S. 
+
+Busky, adj. bushy. 1H. IV. v. 1. 
+
+Butt-shaft, sb. a light arrow for shooting at a 
+Dutta ss Mt. 2. 
+
+Buxom, adj, obedient. H. V. 111. 3. 
+
+
+- By’rlakin, int. by our little Lady: an oath. M. 
+
+
+N’s Dr. ir. 1. 
+
+
+Caddis, sb. worsted galloon, so called because 
+
+
+it resembles the caddis-worm. Wint. Tale, 
+ARV aS 
+Cade, sb. a cask or barrel. 2 H. VI. 1v. 2. 
+
+
+Cage, sb. a prison. Cym. 111. 3. 
+
+Cain-colored, adj. red (applied to hair). Merry 
+Wives, I. 4. 
+
+Caitiff, sb. a captive, a slave; hence, a witch. 
+All’s Well, mt. 2. 
+
+Calculate, v.t. prophesy. J. C. 1. 3. 
+
+Caliver, sb. a hand-gun. 1 H. IV. tv. 2. 
+
+
+Callet, sb. a trull. Oth. iv. 2. 
+Calling, sb. appellation. As you Like it, 1. 2. 
+Calm, sh. qualm. 2H. IV. 11. 4 
+
+
+Can, v.t. to know, be skillful in. Ham. tv. 7. 
+nary, sb. a wine brought from the Canary 
+Islands. Merry Wives, III. 2. 
+
+Candle-wasters, sb. persons who sit up all night 
+to drink. Much Ado, v. 1. 
+
+Canakin, sb. a little can. Oth. 11. 3. 
+
+
+Canker, sb. a caterpillar. Two Gent. 1.1. The 
+dog-rose. Much Ado, 1. 3. 
+
+Canstick, sb. a candlestick. 1 Hen. IV. rr 1; 
+
+Cantle, sb, a slice, corner. 1 H. IV. 111. A 
+
+Canton, sb. a canto. Tw. N. 1. 5. 
+
+Canvas, v.t. to sift; hence, metaphorically, to 
+
+i prove. 2 He TV, 11. 4. 
+
+
+Capable, adj. subject to. John, 111. 1. Intelli- 
+gent. T. & Cr. 11. 3. Capable of i »herit- 
+ing. Lear, 1, 1. Ample, capacious. Oth. 
+
+
+HO, By 
+Capitulate, w.i. make head. 
+
+
+t 1H. IV. 11. 2. 
+Capocchia, sb. a simpleton. 
+
+
+Te &Gevive 2. 
+
+
+Capricio, sb. (Italian), caprice. All’s Well, 
+ile 
+
+Capricious, adj. lascivious. As you Like it, 
+III. 3 
+
+
+Captious, adj. capacious. All’s Well, 1." 3: 
+
+Carack, sb, a large ship of burden. Com. of 
+E Attees 
+
+Carbonado, sb. meat scotched for broiling. 1 
+
+a WVeZ. 
+
+Carbonado, v.t. to scotch for broiling. Lear, 
+Tl.24 
+
+Card, sb. the: paper on which the points of the 
+compass are marked under the mariner's 
+needle. Ham. v. 1. 
+
+Carvire, sb, the curvetting of a horse. 
+Wives, 1. 1. 
+
+Carkanet, sb. a necklace. Com. of E. 111. 1. 
+
+Carl, sb. a churl. Cym. v. 2. 
+
+Carlot, sb. a churl.. As you Like it, 111, 5. 
+
+Castilian, sb. a native of Castile; used as a 
+cant term. Merry Wives, 11. 3. 
+
+Castiliano vulgo, a cant term, meaning, appa- 
+rently, to use discreet language. Tw. N. I. 3. 
+
+Catalan, adj. a native of Cathay, a cant word. 
+Tw. N11 3: 
+
+Catling, sb. cat-gut. T. & Cr. m1. 3. 
+
+Cavalero, sb. a cavalier, gentleman. 
+
+
+Merry 
+
+
+2H. IV. 
+
+
+Ve 3e 
+
+Caviare, sb. the roe of sturgeon pickled; met- 
+aph. a delicacy not appreciated by the vulgar. 
+Ham. 1. 2. 
+
+Cautel, sb. deceit. Ham. 1. 3. 
+
+Cautelous, adj. insidious. Cor. 1v. 1. 
+
+Cease, sb. decease. Ham. 111. 3. 
+
+Cease, p.p. put off, made to cease. Tim. 11. 1, 
+
+Censure, sb. judgment. 1H. VI. 11. 3. 
+
+Censure, v.t. to judge, criticise. Two Gent. 1. 2. 
+
+Century, sb. a hundred of anything, whether 
+men, prayers, or anything else. Cor. 1. 7; 
+Cym. tv. 2. 
+
+Ceremony, sb. a ceremonial vestment, religious 
+rite,“ or anything ceremonial. J. C. 1. 1; 
+Mac. 111. 4 
+
+Certes, adv. certainly. Oth. 1. 1. 
+
+Cess, sb. rate, reckoning. 1 H. IV. 11. 1. 
+
+Chace, sb. a term at tennis. H. V. 1. 2. 
+
+Chamber, sb. a species of great gun. 2 H. IV. 
+
+
+Il. 4. 
+Chamberer, sb. an effeminate man. Oth. 111, 3. 
+Chanson, sb, a song. Ham. It. 2, 
+Charact, sb. affected quality. M. for M. v. 1. 
+Character, sb. a letter, handwriting. Lear, 1. 2. 
+Character, v.t. to carve or engrave. Two Gent. 
+1h. -3 4 Ham: 343. 
+Charactery, sb. handwriting. 
+5. That which is written. 
+Chare, sb. a turn of work. A. & C. Iv. 13. 
+Charge-house, sb. a free-school. L’s L’s L. v. 1. 
+Charles’ wain, sb. the constellation called also 
+Ursa Major, or the Great Bear. 1H. IV. 11. 
+1 
+
+
+Merry Wives, v. 
+JA@prrs! 
+
+
+Charneco, sb, a species of sweet wine. 2 H. 
+VAs, TI 35 
+
+
+1404 
+
+
+Chaudron, sb. entrails. Mac. tv. 1. 
+
+Cheater, sb. for escheator, an officer who col- 
+lected the fines to be paid into the Exchequer. 
+wee Wives, 1. 3. A: decoy. 2 H. IV. 
+
+
+Giecks ‘vi. a technical term in falconry; when 
+a falcon flies at a bird which is. not her 
+
+
+proper game she is said to check at it. Tw. 
+ING 21.95: 
+Checks, sb. perhaps intended for ethics. Tam. 
+OLS. Lois 
+Cheer, sb. fortune, countenance... Temp. 1. 1. 
+
+
+Cherry-pit, sb. a game played with cherry- 
+stones. Tw. N. Il. 4. 
+
+Cheveril, sb. kid leather. R. & J. 1. 4. 
+
+Chewit, sb. cough. 1H. IV. v. 1. 
+
+Childing, adj. pregnant. M. N’s Dr. 11. 2. 
+
+Ch’ill, vulgar for ‘I will.’ Lear, iv. 6. | 
+
+Chirurgeonly, adv. in a manner becoming a 
+surgeon. Temp. 11. 1. 
+
+Chopin, sb. a high shoe or clog. Ham. 11. 2. 
+
+Christom, adj. clothed with a chrisom, the 
+white garment which used to be put on 
+newly-bapcized children. H. V. 11. 3 : 
+
+Christendom, sb. the state of being a Christian. 
+John, 1v. 1. Name. All’s Well, 1 
+
+Chuck, sb. chicken, a term of endearment. 
+Mac. II. 2. 
+
+Chuff, sb. a coarse blunt clown. 1H. IV. 11. 2. 
+
+Cinque pace, sb. a kind of dance. Much Ado, 
+bt pee Ly 
+
+Cipher, v.t. to decipher. Lucr. 811. 
+
+Circumstance, sb. an argument. Two Gent. 1, 
+
+
+Teejobn, sil. 4; 
+BEV eve c2, 
+
+
+Cital, sb. recital. 
+Cite, v. to incite. Two Gent. 11. 4; 3 H. VI. 
+LissL’s Lasviy2. 
+
+
+STs 
+Cittern, sb. a guitar. ; 
+Clack-dish, sb. a beggar’s dish. M. for M. itr. 2. 
+
+
+Clap i’ the clout, to shoot an arrow into the 
+bull’s eye of the target. 2 H. IV. 111. 2. 
+
+Claw, wt. to flatter. Much Ado, 1. 3 
+
+Clepe, v.t. to call. Ham. 1. 4. 
+
+Cliff, sb. clef, the key in nie Tk. &Croivae. 
+
+Cling, v.t. to starve. Mac. v. 5. 
+
+Clinquant, adj. glittering. H, VIII. 11. 
+
+Clip, v.t. to embrace, to ee Be ip Vase ivy 
+
+
+1; Cor. 1. 6; Oth. 111. 3. 
+Clout, sb. tne pears in the middle of a target. 
+L’s L’s 3 
+Coast, v.i. ie redioeee: V. & A. 870. 
+Cobloaf, sb. a big loaf. T. & Cr. 1. 1. 
+Cock, sb. a cock boat. Lear, Iv. 6. 
+Cock-and-pie, an oath. Merry Wives, 1. 1. 
+Cock, sb. a euphemism for God. Tam, of S. 
+1 
+
+
+iv. 1. 
+
+Cockle, sb. tares or darnel.. L’s L’s L. iv. 3. 
+
+Cockney, sb. a cock. Lear. 11, 4. 
+
+Cock-shut-time, sb. the twilight when cocks and 
+hens go to roost. R. III. v. 3. 
+
+Cog, v.t. to cheat, dissemble. Merry Wives, 
+Ul. 3. 
+
+Cognizance, sb. badge, token. 1 H. VI. m1. 
+
+Coign, sb. projecting corner stone. Mac. 1. 
+
+Coil, sb. tumult, turmoil. Temp. r. 2. 
+
+ioikacis6e, sb, drawing a conclusion. Ham. 
+
+
+Colied, ~.p. blackened. Oth. 11. 3; M. N’s Dr. 
+
+
+Coon sb. pretence. L’s L’s L, 1v. 25 
+Colorable, adj. specious. Ibid. 
+
+Colt, v.t. to defraud, befool. 
+Co-mart, sb. a joint bargain. 
+Combinate, b.p. betrothed. 
+Combine, v.t. to bind. M. for M. 33 
+Commodity, sb. interest, profit. M. of Vv; III. 3. 
+
+
+i ay il 
+
+
+GLOSSARY 
+
+
+Commonty, sb. used ludicrously for comedy. 
+Induction to Tam. of S. 
+
+Geeueet, ce compacted, composed. M. N’s 
+Tver Ls 4 
+
+
+Comparative, sb, rival. 1 H. IV. m1..2. 
+Compare, sb. comparison. T. & Cr. 111. 2. 
+Ce ne adj. moving comparison. R. If, 
+
+
+Cémpanitas sb. one who seeks the same gaan 
+
+an associate in any object. Two Gent. 11. 6 
+
+Calon sb. accomplishment. L’s L’s L. 
+a 
+
+
+Ham. 1. 4. fe 
+Av& C12 
+
+
+Complexion; sb. passion. 
+Compose, 7.7, to agree. 
+
+
+Composition, sb. composition. Tim. rv. 3. 
+Comptible, adj. tractable. Tw. N. 1. 5- 
+Con, v.t. to learn by heart. M. N’s Dr. tL 2 
+
+
+To acknowledge. All’s Well, rv. 3. 
+Conceit, sb. conception, opinion, fancy. Two 
+Gent. III. 2. 
+Concupy, sb. concubine. T. & Cr. v. 2. 
+Condition, sb. temper, quality. M. of V. 1. shat 
+Lear, 2°12 
+Condolement, sb. grief. Ham. 1. 2. 
+Conduct, sb. escort. John, 1. 1. 
+Confect, v. to make up into sweetmeats. Much 
+Ado, Iv. 
+Confound, v.t. to consume, destroy. 1 H. IV. 
+1. 33 Cor. 1. 6; Cym. ft. 5. 
+Conject, sb. conjecture. Oth. 111 3. 
+Consign, v. to sign a common bond, to conssecs 
+rate. 2H. IV. 1v.1 
+Consort, sb. company. Two Gent. tv. 1. 
+Consort, v.t. to accompany. L’s L’s L. 1. we 
+Constancy, sb. consistency. M. N’s Dr. v. 1. 
+Constant, adj. settled, determined. _ Temp. Ite 
+ahs Lear, v. 1. 
+Constantly, adv. firmly. M. for M. tv. 1. 
+Conster, v.t. to construe. Tw. N. 1 4 
+
+
+Contemptible, adj. contemptuous. Mich Ado, 
+IF. i 
+
+Continent, sb. that which contains anything. 
+Lear, 111. 2; M. _N’s Dr. 11. 2. 
+
+
+That which 
+is contained. 2 Hen, IV. 11. 4. 7 " 
+Continuate, adj, uninterrupted. Tim.1, 1. | 
+Contraction, sb. the marriage contract. Ham. 
+Ill. 4. Bees, 
+
+Contrary, v.t, to oppose. R. & J. 1. 5. 
+Contrive, 7.4. to conspire. J. C. 11. 3. 
+
+
+v.t. to i 
+
+
+wear away. Tam. of S. 1. 2. 
+Control, z.t. to confute. Temp. 1. 2, mt 
+Convent, v.t. To convene, summon. H. VIII. 
+
+v. 1. v.i. to be convenient. Tw. N. v. 1. 
+Convert, v.i. to change. Tim. tv. 1. 
+Convertite, sb. a convert. As you Like it, v. 4. 
+Convey, v.t. to manage. Lear, 1. 2. To filch 
+
+
+Merry Wives, 1. 3. 
+Conveyance, sb. theft, fraud. 1H. ae % 3. 
+Convict, p.p. convicted. Til 1a 
+Convicted, p.p. overpowered, vanquished. Toh 
+
+
+rr. 4. A doubtful word. 
+Convince, v.t. to conquer, subdue. Cym. a & 
+Convive, v.t. to feast together. T. & Cr, iv. 
+
+
+Convoy, sb. escort. All’s Well, rv. 3. 
+Cony-catch, v.t. to cheat. Tam. of S. vy. 1. 
+
+
+Cony-catching, pr. p. poaching, pilfering. Mer 
+
+Cooling card, ‘sb. used Merely for an ‘in- 
+surmountable obstacle. 1 H. 3. am 
+
+‘pads, of Si . 
+
+v. 
+
+Cope, v.t. to reward, to give in return. 
+
+Copped, b-p. rising to a foe or bate ys Per. 1 1, 1, : 
+
+Copy, sb, theme. Com. of E 1. j 
+
+
+Wives, 1. 
+Copatain hat, a high-crowned hat. 
+M. oe ‘1 
+Vi. EV2 
+Coragio (Italian), int, courage Temp. v. 1 
+
+
+Se 
+
+
+Coram, an ignorant mistake for Quorum. 
+Merry Wives, 1. 1 
+H.Vi re. 5; 
+
+
+Coranto, sb. a lively dance. 
+
+
+Corinth, sb. a cant term for a brothel. Tim. 
+
+it es 
+
+Corinthian, sb. a wencher. 1 H. IV. 41. 4. 
+
+Corky, adj. dry like cork. Lear, 111. 7. 
+
+Cornuto (Italian), sb. a cuckold. Merry 
+Wives, Ill. 5. 
+
+Corollary, sb. a surplus. Temp. tv. 1, 
+
+Corporal, adj. corporeal, bodily. M. for M. 
+aris 
+
+Corporal of the field, an aide-de-camp. L’s L’s 
+Segre 1. 
+
+Corrival, sb. rival. 1H. IV. 1. 3. 
+
+Costard, sb. the head. R. III. 1. 4. 
+
+Coster-monger, adj. peddling, mercenary. 2H. 
+
+
+Piece 
+Cot-quean, sb. an effeminate man, molly-coddle. 
+R. & J. iv. 4. 
+Cote, sb. a cottage. 
+Cote, v.t. to quote, instance. 
+Cote, v.t. to come alongside, overtake. 
+
+II,.2. 
+Couchings, sb. crouchings. J. C. m1. 1. 
+Countervail, v.t. to counterpoise, outweigh. R. 
+
+
+(ce ied Oa f 
+Country, adj. belonging to one’s country. Oth. 
+
+
+iit. 35Cym. 1. 5. 
+Couplement, sb. union. L’s L’s L. v. 2; Son. 
+
+
+As you Like it, 111. 2. 
+Dis MES ay. 1Ven 3. 
+Ham. 
+
+
+19. 
+
+Court holy-water, sb, flattery. Lear, 111. 2. 
+
+Count confect, sb. a nobleman composed of af- 
+fectation. Much Ado, iv. 1 
+
+Countenance, sb, fair shew. M. for M. v. 1. 
+
+Counterfeit, sb. portrait. M. of V. 111. 2. A 
+piece of base coin. 1 H. IV. 11. 4. 
+
+
+Counterpoint, sb. a counterpane. Tam, of S, 
+Tir gO 
+
+County, sb. count, earl. R. & J. 1. 
+
+Covent, sb. a convent. M. for M. tv. 
+
+
+Cover, v.t. to lay the table for dinner. M. of 
+
+Weettt..55 As you Like it, 11. 5. 
+
+Cowish, adj. cowardly. Lear, tv. 2. : 
+
+Cowl-staff, sb. the staff on which a vessel is 
+supported between two men. Merry Wives, 
+IIT )Ge 
+
+Cox my passion, an oath, a euphemism for 
+*God’s Passion.’ All’s Well, v. 2. 
+
+Coy, v.t. to stroke, fondle. M. N’s Dr. 1v..1. 
+v4. to condescend with difficulty. Cor. v. 1. 
+
+Coystrill, sb. a kestril, a cowardly kind of 
+
+- _ hawk. Tw. N. 1.3. 
+
+Cozen, v.t. to cheat. M. of V. 11. 9. 
+
+Cozenage, sb. cheating. Merry Wives, Iv. 5. 
+
+Cozener, sb..a cheater. 1 H. IV. 1. 3. 
+
+ozier,, sb, a tailor... Tw.. N. 11. 3. 
+
+Crack, v.i, to boast. L’s L’s L..tv. 3. 
+
+Crack, sb. a loud noise, clap. Mac. tv. 1. A 
+forward boy. 2H. IV. 111. 2. 
+
+Cracker, sb. boaster. John, 11. 1, 
+
+Craeck-hemp, sb. a gallows-bird. Tam. of. S. v. 1. 
+
+Crank, sb. a winding passage. Cor. 1. 1. 
+
+Cranking, pr. p. winding. 1H. IV. 11. 1. 
+
+Crants, sb. garlands. Ham. v. 1. A doubtful 
+word. 
+
+Crare, sb. a ship of burden. Cym. rv. 2. 
+
+Craven, sb. a dunghill cock. Tam. of S. 1. 1. 
+
+Create, ».p. formed, compounded. H. V. u. 2. 
+
+
+Credent, adj. creditable. M. for M. iv. 4. 
+Credible. Wint. Tale, 1. 2. Credulous, 
+Ham. t. 3 
+
+
+Credit, sb. report.. Tw. N, iv. 3. 
+
+Crescive, adj. increasing. H. V. 1 1. 
+
+Crestless, adj. not entitled to bear arms, low- 
+Dorm, 1,H.. Vip. 4, 
+
+
+GLOSSARY 
+
+
+1403 
+
+
+Crisp, adj. curled, winding. Temp. 1v. 1. 
+
+Cross, sb. a piece of money, so called because 
+coin was formerly stamped with a cross. As 
+you Like it, 11. 4. 
+
+Cera sb. one who scares crows. Lear, 
+EVI6; 7 
+
+Crowner, sb. a coroner. Ham, v. 1. 
+
+Crownet, sb. a coronet. A. & C. v. 2. 
+
+Cry, sb, the yelping of hounds. M. N’s Dr. 1v. 
+1. <A pack of hounds. Ibid. 1v. 1. A com- 
+pany, used contemptuously. Ham. ttt. 2. 
+
+Cry aim, v.t. to encourage. John, 11. 1. ‘ 
+
+Cue, sb. the last. words of an actor’s speech, 
+which is the signal for the next actor to be. 
+gin. Lear, 1. 2. 
+
+Cuisses, sb. pieces of armor to cover the thighs. 
+LASER IAN Cpe alk 
+
+Cullion, sb. a base fellow. Tam. of S. tv. 2. 
+
+Cunning, sb. skill. Induction to Tam, of S. 
+
+Cunning, adj. skillful. Ibid. 
+
+Curb, v.t. to bend, truckle. Ham. 111. 4. 
+
+Currents, sb. occurrences. 1 H. IV. 11. 3. 
+
+Curst, adj. petulant, shrewish. Tam. of S, 1. 2. 
+
+Curstness, sb. shrewishness. A. & C. 11. 2. 
+
+Curtail, sb. a cur. Com. of E. 11. 2. 
+
+Curtal, sb. a docked horse. All’s Well, 11. 3. 
+
+Curtal-axe, sb. a cutlass. “As you Like Stee ze 
+
+Custalorum, a ludicrous mistake for Custos Ro- 
+tulorum. Merry Wives, 1. 1 
+
+Custard-coffin, sb. the crust of a custard-pud- 
+ding. Tam. of S. tv. 3 
+
+Customer, sb. a common woman. Oth. tv. 1. 
+
+Cut, sb. a cheat. Tw. N. 11. 3. ‘To draw cuts’ 
+is to draw lots. Com. of E. v. 1. 
+
+Cypress, sb. a kind of crape. Tw. N. 211, 1. 
+
+
+Daft, v.t. to befool. Much Ado, 1v. 1. To put 
+off; this seems to bea cortuption of ‘dof? 
+Ibid. 11. 3. 
+
+Damn, v.t. to condemn. J. C. rv. 1. 
+
+oes sb, reach, control, power. 
+Ive 1. 
+
+Dansker, sb. a Dane. Ham. 11. 1. 
+
+Dare, v.t. to challenge. 2H. VI. 11. 2. 
+
+Darkling, adv. in the dark. M. N’s Dr. m1. 2. 
+
+Darraign, v.t. to set in array. 3 H. VI. nu. 2. 
+
+Daub, v.t. to disguise. Lear, 1v. 1. 
+
+Daubery, sb. imposition. Merry Wives, 1v. 2. 
+
+Day-woman, sb. a dairy-maid. L’s L’s L. 1. 2. 
+
+Dear, adj. dire. Tim. v, 1. That which has 
+to do with the affections. R. II. 1 1; R. & 
+J. ge)“ Biteous,~ “BIAcirin al Important. 
+Lear, Iv. 3. 
+
+Dearn, adj. lonely. Per, 111. (Gower). 
+
+Deboshed, ~.p. debauched, drunken. Temp. m1. 
+
+
+M. of V. 
+
+
+2. 
+
+Deck, v.t. to bedew. This is probably a form 
+of the verb ‘to drag,’ now a provincia’ word. 
+Temp. I. 2. 
+
+Deck, sb. a pack of cards. 3 Hen. VI. y. 1. 
+
+Decline, v.t. to enumerate, as in going through 
+the cases of a noun. T. & Cr. 1 3. 
+
+Declined, /.p. fallen. T. & Cr. 111. 3. 
+
+Deem, sb. doom, judgment. T. & Cr. tv. 4. 
+
+Defeat, v.t. to undo, destroy. Oth. 1. 3; 1v. 2. 
+
+Defeat, sb. destruction. Much Ado, tv. 1. 
+
+Defeature, sb. disfigurement. Com. of E. 11. 1. 
+
+Defence, sb. art of fencing. Tw. N. 111. 4. 
+
+Defend, v.t. to forbid. Much Ado, 11. 1. 
+
+Defensible, adj. having the power to defend. 
+2 Hen. VI. 11. 3. 
+
+Deftly, adv. dexterously. Mac. tv. 1. 
+
+Defy, v.t. renounce. 1H. IV: 1. 3 
+
+Degrees, sb. a step. J.,C. 1. ‘1, 
+
+Delay, v.t. to let slip by delaying. Cor 1. 6, 
+
+Demerit, sb. merit, desert. Oth. 1. 2. 
+
+
+1406 
+
+
+GLOSSARY ‘ 
+
+
+Demurely, adv. solemnly. A. & C, Iv. 9. 
+Denay, sb. denial. Tw. N. 11. 4. 
+
+Denier, sb. the 12th part of a French sol. R. 
+ne oe eae 
+Denotement, Note 
+or manifestation. 
+Deny, v.t. to refuse. 
+Depart, sb. departure. 
+Depart, v.¢. to part. é 
+Departing, sb. parting, separation. 
+
+TTR; 
+Depend, v.7. to be in service. Lear, I. 4. 
+Derived, ~.p. born, descended. Two Gent. v. 4. 
+Derogate, p.p. degraded. Lear, I. 4. 
+Descant, sb. a variation upon a melody, hence, 
+metaphorically, a comment on a given theme. 
+
+
+sb, marking. Oth. 
+
+Ibid. 111. 3. 
+
+Tim, ul. 2. 
+bylaly \iA bos Gan 
+
+Vs tb sul rr ile 
+
+Cogs be Ab 
+
+
+thn 35 
+
+
+Two Gent. I. 2. : 
+Design, v.t. to draw up articles. Ham. 1. 1. 
+Despatch, v.f. to deprive, bereave. Ham. I. 5. 
+
+
+Desperate, adj. determined, bold, R. & J. 111. 4. 
+
+Detect, v.t. to charge, blame. M. for M. 111. 2. 
+
+Determine, v.t. to conclude. Cor. III, 3. 
+
+Dich, v.t. optative mood, perhaps contracted for 
+dO: Itz © shim.73.5 25 
+
+Diet, sb, food regulated by the rules of med- 
+icine. Two Gent. 11. 1. 
+
+Diet, v.t. to have one’s food regulated by the 
+rules of medicine. All’s Well, Iv. 3. 
+
+Diffused, p.p. confused. Merry Wives, Iv. 4. 
+
+Digressing, pr. p. transgressing, going out of 
+the right way. R. II. v. 3. 
+
+Digression, sb. transgression, L’s L’s L. 1. 2. 
+
+Dig-you-good-den, int. give you good evening. 
+Reis iE ive 2 
+
+Dildo, sb. the chorus or burden of a song. 
+Wint. Tale, tv. 3. 
+
+Dint, sb. stroke. J. C. 111. 2. 
+
+Direction, sb. judgment, skill. R. III. v. 3. 
+
+Disable, v.t. to disparage. As you Like it, Iv. 1. 
+
+Disappointed, ».p. unprepared. Ham. 1. 5. 
+
+Discase, v.r. to undress. Wint. Tale, Iv. 3. 
+
+Discontent, sb, a malcontent. A. & C. 1. 4. 
+
+Discourse, sb. power of reasoning. Ham. Iv. 4. 
+
+Disdained, ».p. disdainful. 1H. IV. 1. 3. 
+
+
+Dislimn, v.t. to disfigure, transform. A. & C. 
+Iv. 12. 
+Disme, sb. a tenth or tithe. T. & Cr. 11. 2. 
+
+
+Dispark, v.t. to destroy a park. R. II. x1. 1. 
+Disponge, v.i. to: squeeze out as from a sponge. 
+A. & C. Iv. 9. . 
+
+Dispose, sb. disposal. Two Gent. 1v. 1. 
+Dispose, v.i. to conspire. A. & C. Iv. 12. 
+Disposition, sb. maintenance. Oth. 1. 3. 
+Disputable, adj. disputation. As you Like it, 
+IIa 5: 
+Dispute, z.t. to argue, examine. Oth. 1. 2. 
+Dissembly, sb. used ridiculously for assembly. 
+Much Ado, rv. 2. 
+Distaste, v.t. to corrupt. T. & Cr. 1. 2. 
+Distempered, adj. discontented. John, rv. 3. 
+Distraction, sb. a detached troop or company 
+of soldiers. A. & C. 111. 7. 
+Distraught, p.p. distracted, mad. R. III. m1. 5. 
+Diverted, ».p. turned from the natural course. 
+As you Like it, 11. 3. 
+Division, sb. a phrase or passage in a melody. 
+Ro &5Js 11. s: 
+Divulged, p.p. published, spoken of. Tw. N.1. 5. 
+Doff, v.t. to do off, strip, Tam. of S. 111. 2. 
+To put off with an excuse. Oth. rv. 2. 
+Doit, sb. a small Dutch coin. Temp. 11. 2. 
+Dole, sb. portion dealt. Merry Wives, rr. 4; 
+2H. IV. 1. 1. Grief, lamentation. M. N’s 
+Driver dt. 
+Don, v.t. to do on, put on. T. A. 1. 2; Ham. 
+Iv. 5. 
+
+
+Done, p.p. ‘done to death,’ put to death. 
+VE otrle 25 
+
+Dotant, sb. one who dotes, a dotard. Cor. y. 2. 
+
+Dout, v.t. to do out, quench. Ham. 1. 4. 
+
+Dowlas, sb, a kind of coarse sacking. 1H. IV. 
+II. 35 
+
+Dowle, sb. the swirl of a feather. Temp. 111. 3. 
+
+Down-gyved, adj. hanging down like gyves or 
+fetters. Ham. 11. 1. 
+
+Drab, sb. a harlot. Wint. Tale, 1v. 2. 
+
+Drabbing, pr.p. whoring. Ham. 1. 1. 
+
+Draught, sb. a privy. T. A. v. 1. 
+
+Drawn, p~.p. having his sword drawn. 
+
+
+2H: 
+
+
+Temp. 
+
+
+Drawn, .p. drunk, having taken a good 
+draught. Ibid. 
+
+Dribbling, adj. weak. M. for M. 1. 4. 
+
+Drive, v.t, to rush impetuously. T. A. 11. 3. 
+
+Drollery, sb, a puppet-show. Temp. 111. 3. 
+
+Drumble, v.i. to dawdle. Merry Wives, 111. ae 
+
+Dry, adj, thirsty. Temp. 1. 2. : 
+
+Duc-dame; perhaps the Latin duc-ad-me, bring 
+him to me. As you Like it, 
+
+Dudgeon, sb. a dagger. Mac. 11. 1. 
+
+Dull, adj. soothing. 2H. IV. tv. 4. 
+
+Dullard, sb. a dull person. Cym. v. Ss: 
+
+Dump, sb. complaint. Two Gent. 111, 2. 
+
+Dup, v.t. to do up, lift up. Ham. tv. 5. 
+
+
+Eager, adj. sour. Ham. 1.5. Harsh. 3 H. VI. 
+11. 6. Biting. Ham. 1. 4. 
+Eanling, sb. a yeanling, a lamb. M. of V. 1. 3. 
+Ear, v.t. to plough. All’s Well, 1. 3. 
+Eche, v.t. to eke out. Per. 111. (Gower). 
+Ecstasy, sb. madness. Temp. mI. 3. 
+Eft, adj. ready, convenient. Much Ado, Iv. 2. 
+Eisel, sb. vinegar. Ham. v. 1; Son: III. 
+Eld, sb. old age. M. for M. 111. 1. 
+Embossed, adj. swollen into protuberances. 
+you Like it, 11. 7. 
+&Giriv. 11, 
+Embowelled, ~.p. disembowelled, emptied. All’s 
+Wiellear.es: 4 
+Embrasure, sb. embrace. T. & Cr. tv. 4. 
+Eminence, sb. exalted station. Mac. 111. 2. 
+Empery, sb. empire. H. V. 1. 2. 
+Emulation, sb. jealousy, mutiny. T. & Cr. 1. 2. 
+Emulous, adj, jealous. T. & Cr. 1v. 1. 
+Encave, v.r. to place oneself in a cave. Oth. 
+
+
+As 
+Covered with foam. A. 
+
+
+i el La : 
+
+End, sb. ‘Still an end,’ continually for ever. 
+Two Gent. Iv. 4. 
+
+Enfeoff, v.t. to place in possession in fee simple. 
+LH: tis 2 
+
+Engine, sb. a machine of war. T. & Cr. 11. 3. 
+
+Englut, v.t. to swallow speedily. Tim. 11. 2. ~* 
+
+Engross, v.t. to make gross or fat. 
+
+ae eG sb. immoderate acquisition. 
+
+. Tyee 
+
+Enkindle, v.t. to make keen. Mac. 1. 3. 
+
+Enmew, v.t. to shut up, as a hawk is shut up 
+in a mew, M. for M. m1. 1 i p 
+
+Ensconce, v.t. to cover as with a fort. 
+Wives, Ir. 2. 
+
+Enseamed, p.p. fat, rank. Ham. 111. 4. 
+
+Enshield, ~.p. hidden. M. for M. 11. 4. 
+
+Entertain, v.t. encounter. H. V. 1. 2. 
+rience. Cry: 
+
+Entertainment, sb. treatment. 
+
+
+2H. 
+
+
+Merry 
+
+
+Expe- 
+
+
+Temp. 1. 2. A 
+Merry 
+All’s Well, 1v. 1. 
+Ham. 1. 330" 
+Ham. 1. 3 
+
+a cant term. Merry 
+
+
+R. ITE. ae 
+
+
+bs 
+
+
+_ Extraught, part. 
+
+
+- GLOSSARY 
+
+
+140? 
+
+
+—oooeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee 
+
+
+Erewhile, adv. a short time since. As you Like 
+it, 11. 4. 
+
+“Escot, v.t. to pay a man’s reckoning, to main- 
+tain. Ham. 11. 2. 
+
+Esperance, sb. hope, used as a war-cry. 1 H. 
+ie Vero bs Cr. v.<2. 
+
+Espial, sb. a scout or spy. 1H. VI. 1v. 3. 
+
+Estimation, sb. conjecture. 1H. IV. 1 3. 
+
+Estridge, sb. ostridge. 1 H. IV. 1v. 1. 
+
+Eterne, adj. eternal. Mac. 111. 2. 
+
+Even, adj. coequal. Ham. v. 1. 
+
+Even, v.t. to equal. All’s Well, 1. 3; Cym. 
+ul. 4. 
+
+Examine, v.t. to question. All’s Well, 111. 5. 
+
+Excrement, sb. that which grows outwardly 
+from the body and has no sensation like the 
+hair or nails. L’s L’s L. v. 1; Ham: m1. 4. 
+Any outward show. M. of V. 111 23; Wint. 
+Tale, Iv. 3. 
+
+Executor, sb. an executioner. H. V. 1. 2. 
+
+Exempt, adj. excluded. 1 H. VI. 11. 4. 
+
+Exercise, sb. a religious service. R. III. 111. 2. 
+
+
+Exhale, v.t. to hale or draw out. R. III. 1. 
+2; v.s. to draw the sword. H. V. 11. 1. 
+Exhibition, sb. allowance, tension. Two Gent. 
+
+
+ace 
+Exigent, sb. death, ending. 1H. VI. 11. 5. 
+Exion, sb. ridiculously used for ‘action.’ 2 H. 
+15 e Sg IS 
+Expect, sb. expectation. T. & Cr. 1. 3. 
+Expedience, sb. expedition, undertaking. A. & 
+Seetezee raste.- R. IT. x7. 1. 
+Expedient, adj. expeditious, swift. John, 11. 1. 
+Expiate, ~.p. completed. R. III. 111. 3. 
+Expostulate, v.t. to expound, discuss. Ham, 11. 2. 
+Exposture, sb. exposure. Cor. tv. 1. 
+Express, v.t. to reveal. Wint. Tale, 11n 2. 
+Expulse, v.t. to expel. 1H. VI. m1. 3. 
+Exsufficate, adj. that which has been hissed off, 
+contemptible. Tw. N. 111. 3. 
+end, v.t. to seize. A. & C. 1. 2. 
+Extent, sb. a seizure. As you Like it, 111, 1. 
+Extern, adj. outward. Oth. 1. 1. 
+Extirp, v.t. to extirpate. M. for M. 111. 2. 
+Extracting, adj. distracting. Tw. N. v. 1. = 
+Baekte 
+WIE. “Er9 2. 
+
+
+extracted, descended. 
+Extravagant, adj. foreign, wandering. Oth. 1x. 1. 
+Extremes, sb. extravagance of conduct. Wint. 
+Tale, 1v. 3. Extremities. R.& J. 1v. 1. 
+Eyas, sb. a nestling hawk. Ham. 11. 2. 
+Eyas-musket, sb. a nestling of the musket or 
+merlin, the smallest species of British hawk. 
+Merry Wives, III. 3. 
+Eye, sb. a glance, cillad. Temp. 1. 2. 
+Eye, ihe a shade of color, as in shot silk. Temp. 
+Eiy &: 
+Eyne, sb.pl. eyes. L’s L’s L. v. 2. 
+Facinorous, adj. wicked. All’s Well, 11. 3. 
+Fact, sb. guilt. Wint. Tale, 11. 2. 
+Factious, adj. instant, importunate. J. C. 1. 3. 
+Faculty, sb. essential virtue or power. H. V. 1. 
+
+
+Fadge, v.t. to suit. Tw. N. 1. 2. 
+Fading, sb. a kind of ending to a song. 
+Tale, tv. 3. 
+
+Fain, adj. glad. 2H. VI. 1. 1. 
+
+Fain, adv. gladly. Lear, 1. 4. 
+
+Fair, sb. beauty. As you Like it, 111. 2. 
+Faitor, sb. a traitor. 2 H. IV. 11. 4. 
+
+Fall, v.t. to let fall. Temp. 1. 1. 
+
+Fallow, adj. fawn-colored. Merry Wives, 1. 1. 
+False, sb. falsehood. M. for M. 11. 4. 
+Falsing, adj. deceptive. Com. of E. 11. 2. 
+Familiar, sb. a familiar spirit. 2 H. VI. 1v. 7. 
+Fancy, sb, All’s Well, v. 3. 
+
+
+Wint. 
+
+
+Fancy-free, adj. untouched by love. M. N’s ° 
+Dr. 11. 2. 
+
+Fang, v.t. to seize in the teeth. Tim. rv. 3. 
+
+Fantastic, sb. a fantastical person. R. & E 
+Il, 4. 
+
+Fap, udj. drunk. Merry Wives, 1. 1. 
+
+Far, adv, farther. Wint. Tale, tv. 4. 
+
+Farced, p.p. stuffed. H. V. 1v. 1. 
+
+Fardel, sb. a burden. Wint. Tale, rv. 4. 
+
+Fartuous, adj. used ridiculously for ‘virtuens.’ 
+Merry Wives, 11. 2. 
+
+Fast, adv. assuredly, unalterably. M. for M. 
+Ie 4602 Bo Vityvs> 
+
+Fat, adj. dull. 1H. IV. x 2. 
+
+Favor, sb. countenance. M. for M. iv. 3. 
+Complexion. T. & Cr. 1 2. Quality. Leas, 
+
+
+I. 4: 
+
+Fear, sb. the object of fear.- Ham, 111. 3. 
+
+Fear, v.t. to affright. A. & C.’11.%6. 
+
+Fearful, adj. subject to fear, timorous. Temp. 
+T2423 
+
+Feat, adj. dexterous. Cym. v. 5. 
+
+Feat, v.t. to make fine.Cym. 1. 1. 
+
+
+Feater, adv. comp degree, more neatly, Temp. 
+cog & 
+Featly, adv. nimbly, daintily. Temp. r. 2. 
+
+
+Feature, sb. beauty. Cym. v. 5. 
+
+Federary, sb. confederate. Wint. Tale, rr. 1. 
+
+Fee-grief, sb. a grief held, as it were, in fee- 
+simple, or the peculiar property of him whe 
+possesses it. Mac. Iv. 3. 
+
+Feeder, sb. agent, servant. As you Like it, 13. s. 
+
+Feere, sb. a companion, husband. T: A. rv. 1. 
+
+Fehemently, adv. used ridiculously for ‘vehe- 
+mently.” Merry Wives, 111. 1 
+
+Fell, sb. the hide. As you Like it, rrr. 2. 
+
+Fence, sb. art or skillin defence, 2H. VI. 1. 1. 
+
+Feodary, sb, one who holds an estate by suit or 
+service to a superior lord; hence one whe 
+
+
+acts under the direction of another. Cym. 
+FIT. 2. 3 - 
+Fester, v.#. to rankle, grow virulent. Cor. x. 9. 
+
+
+Festinately, adv. quickly. L’s L’s L. 111. 1. 
+
+Fet, ».p. fetched. H. V. 111. 1. 
+
+Fico, sb. a fig. Merry Wives, 1. 3. 
+
+Fielded, adj. in the field of battle. Cor. 1. 4. 
+
+Fig, v.t. to insult. 2 H. IV. v. 3. 
+
+Fights, sb. clothes hung round a ship to con- 
+ceal the men from the enemy. Merry Wives, 
+Ti 2s mk 
+
+File, sb. a list or catalogue. 
+
+File, v.t. te defile. 
+polish. ‘L’s L’s 
+VII. 111. 2. 
+
+Fill-horse, sb. shaft-horse. M. of-V. 11. 2. 
+
+Fills, sb. the shafts. T. & Cr. 111, 2, 
+
+Filth, sb. a whore. Tim. tv. 1. 
+
+Fine, sb. end. Ham. v. 1. 
+
+Fine, v.t. to make fine or specious. H. V. x 2. 
+
+Fineless, adj. endless. Oth. 111. 3. 
+
+Earaee, sb. ridiculously used for ‘Virago. Tw. 
+N. ut. 4. 
+
+Fire-drake, sb. Will o’ the Wisp. H. VIII. y- 3. 
+
+Fire-new, adj. with the glitter of novelty on, 
+like newly-forged metal. R. IIL 5. 3. 
+
+Firk, v.t. to chastise. .H. V. tv. 4. 
+
+Fit, sb. carto or division of a song. T. & Cr. 
+11x. 1. A trick or habit. H. VIII. 1. 3. 
+
+Fitchew, sb. a polecat. Lear, rv. 6. 
+
+on sb. a disease incident to horses. Tam. 
+of S. 
+
+Flap-dragon, sb. raisins in burning brandy. L’s 
+bs SON ae ; 
+
+Flap-jack, sb. a pan-cake. Per. 11.71. 
+
+Flat, adj. certain. 1 H. IV. '1v. 2. 
+
+Flatness, sb. lowness, depth Wint. Tale, rr1. 2. 
+
+Flaw, sb. a gust of wind. z H. IV. rv. 4. 
+
+
+Mac. v. 2. 
+Mac. 111. 1. To smooth or 
+L. To make even Hi. 
+
+
+1408 GLOSSARY : 
+a ae a ee eee 
+
+
+Metaph. .sudden emotion or the cause of it. 
+
+
+Mac. 1. 4; A. & C. 11. 10. 
+
+
+IMaw, v.t...to make a flaw in, to break. H. 
+
+
+VIIL.r. 1,, 
+
+
+TMecked, ~.p. spotted, streaked. R. & J. 11. 3. 
+Feet, v.t. to float. A. & C. ur. 11. To pass 
+away. A. & C. 1, 3. v.t. to pass the time. 
+
+
+As you Like it, 1. 1. 
+Tleeting, pr.p. inconstant. _ R. HII. 1, 4. 
+
+
+Flesament, sb. the act of fleshing the sword, 
+
+
+hence the first feat of arms. Lear, 11. 2. 
+
+
+Elewed, adj. furnished with hang lips, as 
+
+
+hounds are. M. N’s Dr. iv. 1. 
+
+
+Flight, sb. a particular mede of practising arch- 
+
+
+ery. Much Ado,1. 1. 
+Wict-gill, sb. a light woman. R. & J. 11. 4. 
+Flourish, sb. an ornament. L’s L’s L. iv. 3. 
+
+
+iMourish, v.t. to ornament, disguise with orna- 
+
+
+ment. M, for M. tv. 1. 
+
+Bote, sb. wave, sea, Temp. I. 2. . 
+
+Plush, adj. fresh, full of vigor. A. & C. 1. 4. 
+
+Foil, sb. defeat, disadyantans, Temp. 111. 1. 
+
+Foin, vs. to fence, fight. erry Wives, II. 3. 
+
+Poison, sb, plenty. Temp. 11. 1. ; 
+
+Fond, adj. foolish, foolishly affectionate. Oth. 
+Teagan,’ te ‘ 
+
+Foot-cloth, sb. a saddle-cloth hanging down to 
+the ground. 2 H. VI. 1. 7. 
+
+For, conj. for that, because. M. for M. 11. 1. 
+
+Forbid, p.p. accursed, outlawed. Mac. 1. 3. 
+
+Forbode, ~.p. forbidden. Lover’s Com. 164. 
+
+Force, v.t. to stuff, for ‘farce.’ T. & Cr. v. 5. 
+
+Forced, p.p. falsely attributed. Wint. Tale, it. 3. 
+
+Vordo, v.t. to kill, destroy. Lear, v..3. To 
+weary. M. N’s Dr. v. 2, 
+
+Forfend, v.t. forbid. Wint. Tale, 1v. 3. 
+
+Poreign,-adj. obliged to live abroad. H. VIII. 
+TGA 
+
+Forepast, adj. former. All’s Well, v. 3. 
+
+Foreslow,,v.t, to delay. 3 H. VI. 11. 3. 
+
+Forgetive, adj. inventive. 2 H. IV. tv. 3. 
+
+Forked, adj._horned. Wint, Tale, 1. 2; Oth. 
+
+ekEE sy i 
+
+Fornai, adj. regular, retaining its proper and 
+eed characteristic. “Com. of E. v. 1; A 
+
+OTE, |S: 
+
+Forspent, ~.p. exhausted, weary. 2 Hen. IV. 
+Ore) Be 
+
+Forspeak, v.t, to speak against. A. & C. 111. 7. 
+
+Forthright, sb. a straight path; forthrights and 
+meanders, straight paths and crooked ones. 
+Temp. 111. 3. 
+
+Forweary, v.t. to weary, exhaust. John, 11. A. 
+
+Fosset-seller, sb. one who sells the pipes in- 
+serted into a vessel to give vent to the liquor, 
+and stopped by a spigot. Cor. 11. 1 
+
+Fox, sb. a sword; a cant word. H. V. tv. 4. 
+
+Fox-ship, sb. the cunning of the fox. Cor. 
+
+
+Ivy. 2. 
+Frampold, adj, peevish, unquiet. Merry Wives, 
+
+
+i, 2. 
+Frank, sb. the feeding place of swine. 2 H. 
+RAT Ae: , 
+Franked, .p. confined. R. III. 1. Pe 
+Franklin, sb. a freeholder, a small squire. Cym. 
+Tir. 23: 
+Fraught, ».p, freighted. M. of V. 11. 8. 
+Fraughtage, sb. freight. Com. of Eaiv. 1. 
+Fraughting, pr. p. of v. to fraught; loading or 
+constituting the cargo of a ship. .Temp. 1. -2. 
+Fresh, sb. a spring of fresh water. Temp. 111. 2. 
+Fret, sb. the stop of a guitar. Tam. of S. 11. pI 
+Fret, v.t.'to wear away. R. If. 11. 3; Lear, 1, 
+a To variegate. J. C. 11. 1. 
+Friend, v.t. to befriend. HH. VIII. 1. 2, 
+ij , sb. an old-elothes shop, Temp.-1v. 1. 
+From, prep. contrary to. Ham, 111, 2, 4 
+
+
+Good-den, int. good-evening, contracted from rf 
+
+
+Front, v.t. to affront, oppose. A. & C. mu. 2. 
+Frontier, sb. opposition. 1 H. IV. Touge 
+Frontlet, sb. that which is worn on the fore- 
+head. Lear, 1. 4. 
+Frush, v.t. to break or bruise. T. & Cr. v. 6. 
+Frustrate, p.p. frustrated. A. & C. v. 1 
+Fub off, v.t. to put off. 2H. 1V. m. 1. 
+Fulfill, v.t. to fill full. Prol. to T. & C. 
+Full, adj. complete. Oth. 11. 1. 
+Fullam, sb. a loaded die. Merry Wives, I. 3. 
+Lege 
+
+
+Fulsome, adj. lustful. M. of V. 
+Furnitor, sb. furnitory, an herb. Lear; 1Vis4e | 
+Furnished, ~.p. equipped. Wint. Tale, Iv. 3. 
+
+
+Gaberdine, sb, a loose outer coat, or smock 
+frock. Temp. 11. 2; M. of V.1. 3. ° 
+
+Gad, sb, a pointed instrument, a gbad. T. A, 
+1v.,1. Upon the gad, with impetuous haste, 
+upon the spur of the moment. Leary (tees 
+
+Gain-giving, sb. misgiving. Ham. v. 2. 
+
+Gait, sb. going, steps. Tw. N. 1. 4. 
+
+Galliard, sb. a kind of dance. Tw. N. 1. 3. : 
+
+Galliasse, sb. a kind of ship. Tam. of Sh. 11. i? 
+
+Gallimaufry, sb. a ridiculous medley. Wint. 
+Tale, Iv. 4. 
+
+Gallow, v.t. to scare. Lear, 111. 2. 
+
+Gallowglass, sb, the irregular infantry of Ire- 
+land, and the Highlands of Scotland. Mac. 
+ira 
+
+Gamester, sb. a frolicsome person. H. VIII. 
+1. 4. A loose woman. AlIl’s Well, v. 3. 
+
+Garboil, sb. disorder, uproar. A. & C. 1. 3c5 
+
+Garish, adj. gaudy, staring. R. III. 1. 4. 
+
+Garner, vt. to lay by, as corn in a barn. Oth. 
+BVips: 
+
+Gast, p.p. frightened. Lear, 11. 1. 
+
+Gaudy, adj. festive. A. & C. 111, 13. 
+
+Gaze, sb. an object of wonder. Mac. v. bi ; 
+
+Gear, sb, matter of business of any kind. M. 
+of V. 11. 2. 
+
+Geck, sb. a fool. Cym. v. 4. 
+
+General, sb. the generality, common people. M, 
+for M. 11. 4. 
+
+Generations, sb. children. Wint. Tale, 1, z= 
+
+Generosity, sb. noble birth. Cor. 1. 1. 
+
+Generous, adj. nohle. M. for M. tr. 1. 
+
+Gentility, sb. good manners. L’s L’s L. tr. 1. 
+
+Gentle, sb. gentlefolk. L’s L’s L. rv. 1. 
+
+Gentle, adj. noble. Temp. 1. 2. ‘ 
+
+Gentle, v.t. to ennoble. Hen. V. rv. Fh ‘- 
+
+Gentry, ‘sb. complaisance, conduct becoming 
+gentlefolk. Ham. 11. 2. 
+
+German, adj. akin. Wint. Tale, rv. 4. Appro- 
+priate. Ham. v. 2. 
+
+Germen, sb. seed, embryo. Lear, ur. 2. 
+
+Gest, sb. period. Wint. Tale, 1. 2. 
+
+Gib, sb. a he-cat. Ham. mt. 4 = 
+
+ey sb, talents, endowment. Merry Wives, 
+: “ 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+Giglot, sb. a wanton girl. M. for M. v. 1. : 
+Gilder, sb, a coin of the value of 1s, 6d. or 2s. i: 
+Com. of E. iv. 1. i 
+Gilt, sb. money. H, V. 1. Ch. State of 
+wealth. Tim. tv. 3. ' 
+Gimmal, adj. double. H. V. tv. 2. ¥ ea 
+Gimmor, sb. contrivance. 1H. VI. 1. 2. au, 
+Ging, sb, gang. Merry Wives, rv. 2. yeh 
+Gird, v.t, to gibe. 2 H. IV. x. 2; Cor. tu 1. ie 
+Gird, sb. a sarcasm or gibe. Tam. of S. y. 2. _ 
+Gleek, v.t. to scoff. M. N’s Dr. 11. 1. Le 
+Gleek, sb. a scoff. 1 H. VT. ru. 2. ‘e 
+Glose, v.t. to comment; hence, to be garrulous. 
+RMT rae 
+Glut, v. to swallow. Temp. 1. 1. ; 
+Gnarl, v.i. to snarl. R. II. 1. 33 2-H. VI. 111. 1, 
+Good-deed, adv. indeed. Wint. Tale, 1. 2. ‘ 
+
+
+‘Good-even,’ John, «. 1. 
+
+
+GLOSSARY 1409 
+
+
+Good-year or Good-jer, sb. a corruption of the 
+French goujere; the venereal disease. Merry 
+Wives, 1, 1. 
+
+Gorbellied, adj. corpulent. 1 H. IV. 11. 2: 
+
+Government, sb. discretion. 3 H. VI. 1. 4. 
+
+Gourd, sb. a species of game of chance. Merry 
+Wives, 1. 3. 
+
+Gout, sb. a drop. Mac. 11, 1. 
+
+Gracious, adj. abounding in grace Divine. 
+Ham, 1. 1. 
+
+Grained, adj. engrained. Ham. tr, 4.: 
+
+Gramercy, int. grand mercy, much thanks. M. 
+OL Wise TTs 2. 
+
+
+‘Grange, sb. the farmstead attached to a monas- 
+
+
+tery, a solitary farm-house. Oth. 1. 1. 
+Gratillity, sb. used ridiculously for ‘gratuity.’ 
+Tw. N. 11 3. 
+Gratulate, v.t. to congratulate. T. A. 1% 2. 
+Grave, v.t. to bury. Tim. tv. 3. 
+Greasily, adv. grossly.. .L’s L’s L. tv. 4. 
+Greek, sb. a bawd. Tw. N. iv. 1. 
+Green, adj. immature, fresh, unused. R. III. 
+II. 2; Tam. of S. 1117, 2. 
+Greenly, adv. foolishly. Ham. tv. 5. 
+Greet, v.t. to weep. T. A. 1. 2. 
+Grize, sb. a step. Tw. N. rr. 1. 
+Grossly, adv. peipably. He Vey Ths 
+Groundling, sb. one who sits in the pit of a 
+_ theatre. Ham. 111. 2. 
+Growing, pr. p. accruing. Com. of E. tv. 1. 
+Guard, sb. decoration. M. for M. rr. 1. 
+Guard, v.t. to decorate. M. of V. 11. 2. 
+Guardage, sb. guardianship. Oth. 1. 2. 
+Guinea-hen, sb. the pitando, a cant term. Oth. 
+
+
+ek 
+Gules, adj. red, a term in heraldry. Tim. iv. 3. 
+Gulf, sb. the throat. Mac. 1v. 1 
+Gun-stone, sb. a cannon ball. 
+Gust, sb. taste, relish. Tw. N. 1. 3. 
+Gyve, v.t. to fetter. Oth. 11. 1. 
+
+
+Hack, v.i. to become common. Merry Wives, 
+
+
+Haggard, sb. a wild or unreclaimed hawk., 
+
+
+Tam. of S. 1. 1v. ‘ 
+
+Hag-seed, sb. seed or offspring of a hag. Temp. 
+Ie 2 
+
+Hair, sb, course, order, grain. Merry Wives, 
+
+
+TT.' 3. 
+
+Halidom, sb. holiness, sanctification, Christian 
+fellowship; used as an oath, and analogous to 
+‘By my faith.? Two Gent. iv. 2, 
+
+Hall, sb. an open space to dance in. R. & J. 
+rs. 
+
+Ne sb. All Hallows’ Day. Two Gent, 
+BI. 
+
+Hap, sb. chance, fortune. Com. of E. 1. 1. 
+
+Happily, adv, accidentally. Tam. of S. tv. 4. 
+
+Handsaw, sb, perhaps a corruption-of Heron- 
+shaw; a hern. Ham. 11. 2. 
+
+AS ota sb, defiance, brave deeds. 1 H. 
+Y's E,. 3. x 
+
+Harlock, sb. charlock, wild mustard, Lear. tv. 4. 
+
+Harry, v.t. to annoy, harass. A. & C. mt. 3. 
+
+Having, sb. property, fortune. Tw. N. 111. 4. 
+
+Haviour, sb. behavior. Merry Wives, r. 3. 
+
+Haught, adj. haughty. 3 Hen. VI. 11. 1. 
+
+Haunt, sb. company. Ham. tv. 1. 
+
+Hay, sb. a term in fencing. R. & J. 11. 4. 
+
+Heady, adj. violent, headlong. Com. of E. v. 1. 
+
+a b.p. of v.t. ‘to heat,’ heated. M. of V. 
+5 
+
+
+Hebenon, sb. hebane. Ham. t. s. 
+
+Heft, sb. a heaving. Wint. Tale, rr. 1. 
+
+Heft, ».p. furnished with a handle: hence, meta- 
+hhorically, finished off, delicately formed. 
+
+
+_Eear, 11. 4. 
+Helm, v.¢, to steer, manage. M. for M. 111. 2. 
+
+
+Hence, adv. henceforward. 2-H. IV: v. s. 
+
+Henchman, sb. a- page or attendant. M. N’s 
+Dr. 11. 2. ; 
+
+Hent, v.t. to seize, take. M. for M. iv. 6; 
+Wint. Tale, Iv. 2. % 
+
+Hermit, sb, a beadsman, one bound to pray fo 
+another. Mac, t. 6. 
+
+Hest, sb. command. Temp. 11. 1. 
+
+High, adv. used in composition with adjectives 
+to heighten-or emphasize their signification, 
+as, high-fantastical. Tw. N. 2. 1. 
+
+Hight, p.p. called. L’s L’s L. 1. 1. 
+
+Hild, p.p. held. Luer..1257. 
+
+Hilding, sb. a paltry fellow. Cym. 1. 3. 
+
+Hint, sb, suggestion. Temp. 1. 2. ; 
+
+Hiren, sb, Oy. a prostitute, with a pun on the 
+word ‘iron.? 2 Hen. IV. 11. 4. i 
+
+Hit, v.t. to agree. Lear, 1. 1. : 
+
+Hoise, v.t. to hoist, heave up on high. 2 Hi 
+nv Ele is Fe ; 
+
+Hoist, p.p. hoisted. Ham. rr. 4. 
+
+Holp, 2.p. of the v. to help; helped. John, :. 1. 
+
+Home, adv. to the utmost. Cor. 1. 2; Cym. 
+Ill. 5; Lear, itt. 3. 
+
+Honest, adj. chaste. Oth. rv. 2. 
+
+Honesty, sb. chastity. As you Like it, 11. 3. 
+
+Honey-stalks, sb. the red clover, T. A. 1. g. 
+
+Hoodman-blind, sb. the game now called blind. 
+man’s-buff.. Ham. 111. 4. 
+
+Horn-mad, adj. probably, ‘harn-mad,’ that is, 
+brain-mad. Merry Wives, 1. 4. 
+
+Horologe, sb. a clock. Oth. 11. 3. 
+
+Hot-house, sb. a brothel. M. for M: i. 1. 
+
+Hox, v.f. to hamstring. Wint. Tale, 1. 2. 
+
+Hugger-mugger, sb. secresy. Ham: tv. S- \ 
+
+Hull, v.i._to drift on the sea like’a wrecked 
+ship. H. VIII. 11. 4. . 
+
+nereue, add, fitful, or, perhaps, hurried. R, 
+
+Sina : 
+
+Hunt-counter, vt. to follow the scent the 
+wrong way. 2-H. IV. 1. 2. ; 
+
+Hunts-up, sb. a holla used in hunting ‘when the 
+game was on foot. R.& J. uu. 5. 
+
+Hurly, sb. noise, confusion. Tam. of S. 7. li 
+
+Hurtle, v.z. to clash. J. C. 11. 2. 
+
+Hurtling, sb. noise, confusion. As you Like it, 
+Vv 
+
+
+IV. 3. ; 
+
+Husbandry, sb. frugality. Mac. 11. 1. Man 
+agement. M. of V. 111. 4. 
+
+Huswife, sb. a jilt. Cor. 4. 3. 
+
+
+Tce-brook, sb. an icy-cold brook. Oth. v. 2. 
+
+I’fecks, int..in faith, a euphemism. Wet, 
+Pale, 1: 2. : 
+
+Ignomy, sb. ignominy. 1H. IV. v. 4. 
+
+Image, sb, representation. Ham. tr. 2. 
+
+Imbare, v.t. to bare, lay open.: H. V. 1. 2. 
+
+Immediacy, sb. close connexion. Lear, v. 
+
+Immoment, adj. unimportant. A. & C. v. 
+
+Imp, v.t. to graft, to splice a falcon’s broken 
+feathers. R. IL: xu. 1. 
+
+Imp, sb. a scion, a child. 2H. IV. v. s. 
+
+Impawn, v.¢. to stake, compromise. H. V. 1. 2 
+
+Impeach, v.f. to bring into question. M. N’s 
+Dr, 11,2. 
+
+Impeach, sb. impeachment. C. of E. v. 1. 
+
+Impeachment, sb. cause of censure, hindrance. 
+Two Gent. I: 3. 
+
+oh A aa adj, dull of perception. €ym. 
+Tye 
+
+Impeticos, v.t. to pocket. Tw. N. 11.3. 
+
+Importance, sb. importunity. Tw. N. v. 1. 
+
+Important, adj. importunate. C. of E. v. 1; 
+Lear, Iv. 4. 
+
+Importing, adj. significant. All’s Well, v. 3. 
+Impose, sb, imposition, meaning command or 
+task imposed upon any one, Two Gent. Iv. 3. 
+
+2mposition, sb. command, M. of V. 1, 2, 
+
+
+3. 
+2. 
+
+
+i410 
+
+
+Imprese, sb. a device with a motto. R. II, 111. 1. 
+
+Impress, v.t, to compel to serve. Mac. tv. 1. 
+
+{neapable, adj, unconscious. Ham. Iv. 7. 
+
+(ncarnardine, v.t. to dye red. Mac. 11. 2, 
+
+Incensed, p.b- incited, egged on. R. III. 111 1. 
+
+Inch-mea}, sb. by inch-meal, by portions of 
+inches. Temp. 11, 2. 
+
+inclining, adj, compliant. Oth. 11. 3. 
+
+Inclining sb. inclination, Ham. 1. 2. 
+
+Enclip, v.s. to embrace. A. & C. 11. 7. 
+
+Include, v.t. conélude. Two Gent. v. 4. 
+
+Incony, adj, fine, delicate. L’s L’s L. 111. 1. 
+
+Incorrect, adj. ill-regulated. Ham. 1. 2. 
+
+{nd, sb. India. Temp. 11. 2. 
+
+{ndent, v.i, to compound or bargain. 1 H. IV. 
+| ae 
+
+fndex, sb. a preface. R. III. 1v. 4; Ham. 111, 4. 
+
+Indifferent, adj. ordinary. Ham. 11. 2. 
+
+Endigest, adj. disordered. Son. 114. 
+
+Indite, v.t. to invite. R. & J. u. 4. To con- 
+vict. Ham. 11. 2. 
+
+Induction, sb. introduction, beginning. 1 H. 
+yar ¢ ai 
+
+Endurance, sb. delay. H. VIII. v. 1. 
+
+Infinite, sb. infinite power. Much Ado, Ir. ‘ 
+
+Ingraft, part of v. to engraff, engrafted. Oth. 
+
+
+TI.-3. 
+{nhabitable, adj, uninhabitable. R. II. 1. 1. 
+Inherit, v.#. to possess. Two Gent. 111. 2. 
+{nhooped, ~.p. penned up in hoops. A. & C. 
+
+
+exI.. 3. 
+
+Inkhorn-mate, sb. a contemptuous term for an 
+eeciesiaatiCs or man of learning. 1 H. VI. 
+BI,015 
+
+Inkle, sb. a kind of narrow fillet or tape. 
+Wint. Tale, 1v. 3. 
+
+{nland, adj. civilized, well-educated. As you 
+Like it, 111. 2. 
+
+Inly, adj. inward. Two Gent. 11. 7. 
+
+Inly, adv. inwardly. Temp. v. 1. 
+
+Inquisition, sb. enquiry. Temp. 1. 2. 
+
+Insane, adj. that which causes insanity. Mac. 
+Seg; 
+
+Insconce, v.t. to arm, fortify. Com. of E. 11. 2. 
+
+Instance, sb. example. Tw. N. Iv. 3. Informa- 
+tion. 2 H. IV. 111. 1. Reason, proof. H. V. 
+t1. 2; Merry Wives, 11. 2. 
+
+Intend, v.t. to pretend. Tam. of S. rv. 1. 
+
+Intending, pr. p. regarding. Tim. 1. 2. 
+
+{ntendment, sb. intention. Oth. rv. Si 
+
+Intentively, adv. attentively. Oth. 
+
+Riko esed | p.p. allied. Lear; 1..1. 
+
+Intermission, sb. pause, delay. Mac. tv. 3. 
+
+5 Sapeaine adj. not capable ‘of being cut. 
+Mac. v. 
+
+Intrinse, adj. intricate. Lear, 11. 2. 
+
+{ntrinsicate, adj. intricate. A. & C. v. 2. 
+
+{nvention, sb. imagination. Mac. 111. 1. 
+
+Inward, sb. an intimate friend. M. for M. tr, 
+2, adj. intimate. R. III. ur, 4. 
+
+Inwardness, sb. intimacy. Much Ado, rv. 1. 
+
+Irregulous, ‘adj. lawless, licentious. Cym. tv. 2. 
+
+Iteration, sb. reiteration, 1 H. IV. 1. 2. 
+
+
+Jack, sb. a mean fellow. R. III. 1. 3. 
+
+Jack-a-lent. sb. a puppet thrown at in Lent. 
+Merry Wives, v. 5. 
+
+Jack guardant, sb. a jack in office. Cor. v. 2. 
+
+Jade, v.t. to whip, to treat with contempt. H. 
+VIII. 1. 2; A. & C. ‘111. 3: 
+
+Jar, sb. the ticking ofaclock. Wint. Tale, 1. 2, 
+
+Jar, v.i. to tick as a clock. R. a Vase 
+
+aunce, v.i. to prance. R. II. 5. 
+
+ess, sb. a strap of leather attached to the talons 
+of a hawk, by which it is held on the fist. 
+Oth, 111. 3. 
+
+Jest, v.s. to tilt in a tournament. R. II, 1. 3 
+et, vi, to strut. Tw. N. 11. 5. 
+
+
+GLOSSARY 
+EES 
+
+
+Jovial, adj. epperteiaing to Jove. Cym., v. 4. 
+
+Journal, adj. daily. Cym. Iv. 2. 
+
+Judicious, adj, critical. Merry Witeeay Tri. 
+
+Jump, v.t. to ees Fh 1 He AV. v.t. to 
+hazard, Cym. v. 
+
+
+jump, sb. hazard. A. & C,.111 8. 
+
+ump, adv, exactly, nicely. Oth. 11. 3. 
+Justicer, sb. a judge, magistrate. Lear, 11. 6. 
+jut, v.t. to encroach. R. III. 11. ue 
+
+Jutty, sb. a projection. Mac. 1. 6, 
+
+Jutty, vt: to jut out beyond. H. V. ur. 1. 
+Juvenal, sb. youth, young man, L’s L’s L. 1. 2. 
+
+
+Kam, adj. crooked. Cor. 111% ae 
+
+Kecksy, sb. hemlock. H. V. 
+
+Keech, sb. a lump of tallow. wee Wiligiceie 
+Keel, v.t. to skim. L’s L’s L. v. 2. 
+
+Keep, v.r. to restrain. Two Gent. Iv. 4 
+Keisar. sb. Cesar, Emperor. Merry Wives, t. 3. 
+horas ab. the rude foot soldiers of the Irish. 
+
+
+Kibe ih: a  chillbiain. Temp, 1101. 
+
+Kickshaw, sb, a made dish. 2 H. IV. v. 1. 
+
+Kicksy wicksy, ee a wife, used in disdain, 
+AlL’s Well, 11. 3. 
+
+Kiln-hole, sb. the ash-hole under a kiln. Merry 
+Wives, Iv. 2. 
+
+Kind, sb. nature. A. & C. v. 2; T. A. m1. 1. 
+
+Kindle, v.t. to bring forth young; used only of 
+beasts. As you Like it, 111. 2. 
+
+Kindless, adj. unnatural. Ham. 11. 2. 
+
+Kindly, adj. natural. Much Ado, tv. 1. 
+
+Kirtle, sb. a gown. 2H. IV. 1. 4 
+
+Knave, sb. a boy. Mi C. Iv. 3. A.serving-man, 
+All’s Well, rr. 4. 
+
+Knap, v.t. to snap, crack. M. of V. 111. 1. 
+
+Knot, sb. a figure in garden beds. R. II. 111. 4. 
+
+Know, v.t. to acknowledge. Mac. 11. 2. 
+
+
+Labras, sb. lips. Merry Wives, 1. 1. 
+Laced-mutton, sb. a courtezan, Two Gent. 1. 1. 
+Lag, sb. the lowest of the people. T. A. 111. 6. 
+eg adv, late, behindhand. R. III. 
+
+Lear, 1 
+
+
+AES 
+Lakin, n. ladykin, little lady, an endearing term _ 
+
+
+applied to the Virgin Mary in the oath, ‘By 
+our lakin.’ Temp. 111. 3. 
+
+Land-damn, v.t. perhaps to extirpate; Hanmer 
+thinks it means to kill by stopping the urine. 
+Wint. Tale, 11. 1. 
+
+Lapsed, p.p. taken, apprehended. Tw. N. 111. Ff 
+
+Large, adj. licentious, free. Much Ado, iv. 1. 
+
+Largess, sb. a present. Tam. of S. 1. 2. 
+
+Lass- ey adj. deserted by a mistress. 
+
+
+LVe ls 
+
+Latch, v.t.. to acs M. N’s Dr. 11. 2. 
+catch. Mac. Iv. 
+
+Lated, ~.p. belated. See & C. 11. 9. 
+
+Latten, adj. made of brass. Merry Wives, 1. 1. 
+
+Laund, sb. lawn.. 3 H. VI. 11. 1. 
+
+
+Lavolta, sb. a dance. H. V. 111. 5 
+Lay, sb. wager. Oth. 11. 
+
+
+Temp. 
+To 
+
+
+3 
+League, sb. besieging orey Ea ’s Well, 111. 6. — 
+
+
+Leasing, sb. lying. N. 
+
+Leather-coats, sb. a ana of apple “2H. IV. v. a3 
+
+Leech, sb. a physician. T. A. v. 4. 
+
+Leer, sb. countenance, complexion. 
+Like it, 1v. 1; T. A. 1v. 2. 
+
+Leet, sb. a manor court. Oth. 111. 3 
+
+Legerity, sh. lightness. H. V. aus ip 
+
+Lege, v.t#. to allege. Tam. of S. 
+
+Leiger, sb. an ambassador yesident absonas M. 
+for M. 111. 1; Cymb. 1. 6. 
+
+
+As you 
+
+
+Leman, sb.a lover or mistress. 2H. IN RVan de 
+Lenten, adj. meagre. Ham. 11. 1. That which 
+may be eaten in Lent, R. & J. 11. 4. 
+
+
+L’envoy, sb. the farewell or moral at the end 
+of a tale or poem, L’s L’s L. 111. 1, 
+
+
+ET Rite Boi 
+
+
+v 
+Al 
+a 
+a | 
+lh 
+ay | 
+% 
+vie 
+€ 
+re 
+~t 
+
+
+GLOSSARY 14h 
+
+
+Let, v.t. to hinder. Tw. N. v. 1. v.t. to hin- 
+der. Ham. 1. 2. 
+
+Let, sb. hindrance. Ht V. v. 2 
+
+Lethe, sb. death. J. C, 111. 1. 
+
+
+‘Level, v.i. to aim. M. of V. 1. = R. III. rv. 4. 
+
+
+Level, sb. that which is aimed at. H. VIII. 1. 2. 
+Lewd, adj. ignorant, foolish. R. III. Py 3- 
+Lewdly, adv, wickedly. 2H. VI. 11. 
+
+
+Lewdster, sb. a lewd person. Merry Wives, Vv. 3. 
+
+
+Libbard, sb. a leopard. L’s L’s L. v. 2. 
+
+
+spore adj. licentious. Two Gent. 111. 1; Oth. 
+
+112. 1: 
+
+Liberty, sb. libertinism. T. A. tv. 1. 
+
+License, sb. licentiousness, M. for M. 111. 2. 
+
+Lief, adj. dear. 2H. VI. 111. 1. 
+
+Lifter, sb. a thief. T. & Cr. 1. 2. 
+
+Light 0’ love, sb. a tune so called. Two Gent. 
+ies 
+
+Lightly, adv. easily, generally. Com. of E, rv. 
+
+Apo LLY. 111. 1. 
+
+
+Like, v.t. to please. R. III. 111. 4; Lear, 11. 2. 
+
+
+Like, v.t. to liken, compare. 1 H. VI. Iv. 6. 
+Like, adj. likely. M. for M. v. 1. 
+Likelihood, sb. promise, appearance, R, III. 
+
+
+Ill. 4. 
+Liking, sb, condition. 1H. IV. 111. 3. 
+Limbeck, sb. an alembick, a still. Mac. 1. 7. 
+Limbo, or Limbo patrum, sb. the place where 
+good men under the Old Test. were believed 
+to be imprisoned till released by Christ after 
+his crucifixion. All’s Well, v. 3; H. VIII. 
+
+
+Vv. 3. 
+
+Lime, sb. bird-lime. Temp. tv. 1. 
+
+Limn, v.t. to draw. As you Like it, Te 
+
+Line, v.t. to entangle as with bird- “iaies Tw. 
+N. 11. 4. To-smear with bird-lime. 2 H. 
+VI. 1. 3. To mix lime with beer or other 
+liquor. Merry Wives, I. 3. 
+
+Line, v.t. to cover on the inside. Cymb. 11. 3. 
+To peers cen by inner works, 1 H. IV. 11. 
+3; 2 I. 3- 
+
+Linstock, sb. a staff with a match at the end of 
+16: used by gunners in firing cannon. H. V. 
+i. Chorus. 
+
+List, sb. a margin, hence a beond or enclosure. 
+wait. 1; 1 H. IV. av. 
+
+
+‘Lither, adj. lazy. eer Vic Be t 
+
+
+Little, sb. miniature. Ham. 
+
+Bretnend, sb. appearance of ife. All’s Well, 
+
+Bicery, sb. a law phrase, signifying the act of 
+delivering a freehold into ae pomeees of 
+the heir or purchaser. R. II. 
+
+Living, adj. lively, convincing. Ot IIl. 
+
+Loach, sb. a fish so called. 1 H. ye Il, 
+
+Lob, sb. a looby. M. N’s Dr. 1. 1. 
+
+Lockram, sb. a sort of coarse linen. Cor. 11. 1. 
+
+Me De AA the leading-star, pole-star. M. 
+
+Loffe, v.i. to laugh. M. N’s Dr. 11. 1. 
+
+Loggats, sb. the game called nine-pins. Ham. 
+
+Vn A, 
+
+Paes, adv, longingly. Tam. of S. 1. 1. 
+
+Loof, v.t. to luff, bring a vessel up to the wind. 
+A. & C. 11. 8 
+
+Loon, sb, a low contemptible fellow. Mac. v. 3. 
+
+Lot, sb. a prize in a lottery. Cor. v. 2. 
+
+Lottery, sb. that which falls to a man by lot. 
+AS & C. 11. 2. 
+
+Lowt, sb. a clown. Cor. 11. 2. 
+
+Lowt, v.t. to sa one as a lowt, with contempt. 
+ett Vi. rv. 
+
+Lozel, sb. a spendthrift. Wint. Tay Il. 3 
+
+Lubber, sb. a leopard. 2 H. IV. 11. 
+
+Luce, ”. the pike or jack, a fresh- ater fish. 
+Merry Wives, 1. 1. 
+
+Lumpish, adj. dull, dejected. Two Gent. 111. 2. 
+
+
+Lunes, sb, fits of lunacy. Wint. Tale, 11. 2. 
+
+Lurch, v.t, to defeat, to win. Cor. 11. 2. 
+
+Lurch, v.t. to shift, to play tricks. Merry 
+Wives, LIB 2) 
+
+Lure, sb. a thing stuffed to resemble a bird 
+“ie oe the falconer allures a hawk. Tam. 
+of S. B, 
+
+Lush, adj, juicy, luxuriant. 
+
+Lustig, adj. lusty, cheerful. 
+
+Luxurious, adj. lascivious. Much Ado, iv. 1. 
+
+Luxury, sb. lust. Lear, tv. 6. 
+
+Lym, sb, a limer or slow hound. Lear, 111. 6. 
+
+Made, ~.p. having his fortune made. Tw. N. 
+Ill, 
+
+Magnifico, . sb. the chief magistrate at Venice. 
+
+a 
+
+Magot-pie, ‘sb. a magpie, a pie which feeds on 
+magots. Mac. III. 4. 
+
+Mailed, 2 b-. covered as with a coat of mail. 
+2 Porta: 
+
+Main-course, sb. a sea-term. Temp. 1. 1. 
+
+Make, v.t. to do up, bar. Com. of & Tit DL. 
+To do. L’s L’s L. 1v. 3; R. III. 1. 
+
+Malkin, sb, a familiar name for Mais hence a 
+servant wench. Cor. 11. 1. 
+
+Mallecho, sb. mischief. Ham. 111. 2. 
+
+Mammering, pr. p. hesitating. Oth. 111. 2. 
+
+
+Tem, 11.0 1: 
+All’s Well, 11. 3. 
+
+
+Mammets, *b. a woman’s breasts, 1 H. IV. 11. 
+3. Adoll. R. & J. 11. 5. 
+Mammock, v.t. to break, tear. Cor. 1. 3. 
+
+
+Man, v.t. to tame a hawk. Tam. of S. Vv. 1. 
+Manage, sb; peanagenye it. Temp. 1. 2. 
+a plant of ad pneterous qual- 
+Aabiragere, ois ity, supposed to resemble a 
+; TNS man, Uth.111.3; 2H.1V,1. 2. 
+Mankind, adj. having a@ masculine nature. 
+Wint. Tale, 11. 
+
+
+Marches, sb, frontiers, borders. H. V. 1. 2. 
+Marchpane, sb. a kind of sweet biscuit. R. & 
+I 
+
+
+i hole 
+
+Margent, sb. margin. L’s L’s L. 11. 1. 
+
+Marry trap, int. an oath. Merry Wives, 1. 1. 
+
+Martlemas, sb. the Feast of St. Martin, which 
+occurs 2n the 11th of Nov. when the fine 
+weather gencrally ends; hence applied to an 
+old’ man.) 2H. onVee ita) 
+
+Match, sb. an appointment. 1 H. IV. 1. 2. 
+
+Mate, v.t. to confound, dismay. Mac. v. 1. 
+
+Meacock, adj. tame, cowardly. Tam. of S, 11. 1. 
+
+Mealed, 'p.P. mingled. M. for M. rv. 2. 
+
+Mean, sb. instrument used to promote an end, 
+Two Gent. Iv. 4. 
+
+Mean, sb. the tenor part in a harmony. Two 
+Gent. 1. 2. 
+
+Mean, sb. Giese re power. H. VIII. v. 2. 
+
+Measure, sb. reach. Two ae v. 4. A stately 
+dance. Much Ado, 11. 
+
+Meazel, sb. a leper, sie in contempt of a 
+mean person. Cor. Ill. 2. 
+
+Medal, sb. a portrait in a locket. Wint. Tale, 
+
+
+To) 
+Medicine, sb. a physician. \All’s Well, 11. 1. 
+Meed, sb. reward, hire. Two Gent. Il 4. 
+Mehercle, it. by Hercules. L’s L’s L. tv. 2. 
+Meiny, sb. retinue. Lear, 
+Memorize, v.t. to cause to be remembered. 
+Mace. 1. 
+
+
+Merit. 3 H. VI. 1. 1. 
+Tr. i4e 
+Mell, v.i. to mix, to meddle. All’s Well, rv. 3. 
+2. age 
+Mephistophilus, sb. the name of a familiar 
+
+
+spirit. Merry Wives, 1. 1. ‘ 
+Mercatante, sb. (Italian), a foreign trader. 
+Tam. iof |S. 1.2. 
+
+
+Merely, adv. simply, absolutely. Temp: 1. 1. 
+Mess, sb. a company of four. L’s L’s L. Iv. 
+3¥lVales 
+
+
+1412 GLOSSARY 
+REE Te Se pee er en TE Sn eae 
+Metaphysical, adj. supernatural. Mac. 1. 5. Neeld, sb, a needle. M. N’s Dr. ur. 2. ~ ; 
+Mete-yard, sb. measuring-wand.. Tam, of §, iv. Neif, sb. hand. M. N’s Dr. iv. 1. © 
+Nephew, sb. a grandson. Oth. 1. 1. 4 
+Nether-stocks, sb. stockings, Lear, Il 4. 
+Next, adj. nearest. 1 Hen. IV. 11. 1, 
+Nice, adj. foolish. -Tam. of S. 111. 1. 
+Nick, sb. score or reckoning. Two Gent. Iv. 2, 
+Nick, v.f, to brand with folly. A. & C. m1. 11. 
+Nighted, ~.p, black as night. Ham. 1, 2. ’ 
+Night-rule, sb. nightly solemnity. M. N’s Dr, 
+TIT; 42. i 
+Nine men’s morris, sb. a place set apart for a 
+Moorish dance by nine men. M. N’s Dr. ik, 
+
+
+Mew up, v.t. to confine. R. III. 1% 1. 
+
+Micher, sb. a truant. 1 H. IV. 1. 4. 
+
+Mickle, adj. much. Com. of E, 111. 1, 
+
+Mill-sixpence, sb. a milled sixpence. Merry 
+Wives, 1. 1, 
+
+Mince, v.t. to do any thing affectedly, H. V. 
+
+
+Vv. 2. 
+Mincing, adj. affected. 1 H. IV. um, 1. 
+Miscreate, p.p. illegitimate. H. V. 1. 2, 
+Misdoubt, v.t. to suspect. 3 H. VI. v. 6. 
+Misery, sb. avarice, Cor. 11, 2. Awe 
+Misprise, v.t. to despise. As you Like it, 1, 1. 
+To mistake. M. N’s Dr, 11. 2. 
+Misprision, sb. mistake. Much Ado, rv. 1. 
+Missive, sb. messenger, A, & C. 11. 2. 
+Mistempered, adj. angry. John, v. 1. 
+Misthink, v.t. to think ill of. 3 H. VI. 5. 
+Mistress, sb. the jack in bowling. T. & Cr. 111. 
+
+
+a 
+Mobled, ~.. muffled. Ham, 11. 2. 
+Modern, adj. commonplace. John, 111. 4. 
+Module, sb, a model, image. John, v. 7. 
+Moe, adj. and adv. more. Of frequent occur- 
+rence. 
+Moiety, sb. a portion. Lear, 1. 1. 
+Mome, sb. a stupid person, Com. of E. 15. 1. 
+Momentary, adj. momentary. M.N’s Dr.t. 1. 
+Months-mind, sb. a monthly commemoration of 
+the dead, but used ludicrously to mean a 
+great mind or strong desire. Two Gent. I. 2, 
+Mood, sb, anger. Two Gent. tv. 1. 
+Moon-calf, sb. a nick-name applied to Caliban. 
+Temp. It. 2; 111, 2. 
+Moonish, adj. inconstant. As you Like it, 111. 2. 
+Mop, sb. nod., Temp. 111. 3. 
+Morisco, sb. a Moor. 2H. VI. m1. 1. 
+Morris-pike, sb. Moorish-pike. Com. of E. 1v. 3. 
+
+
+2. 
+Ninny, sb. a fool, jester. Temp. III. 2. 
+Nobility, sb. nobleness. Ham. 1. 2. Bhi 
+Noble, sb. a coin, worth 6s. 8d. R. II. 1. Ts 
+Noddy, sb. a dolt. Two Gent. 1. 1. 
+Nonce, sb. for the nonce, corrupted from ‘for 
+then once,’ for the occasion. 1 H, IV. z 2, ” 
+Nook-shotten, adj. indented with bays and — 
+creeks, H. V. ir. 5. Bed «SB 
+Nourish, sb, a nurse. 1 H, VI. 1. 1. i 
+Novum, sb. a game at dice. L’s L’s L, y. 2. 
+Nowl, sb. head. M. N’s Dr. m1. 2. eee | 
+Nuthook, sb. a hook for pulling down nuts, | 
+hence a thief. Merry Wives, 1. 1 Teg “4 
+
+
+O, sb. a circle, M. N’s Dr. mir, 2, 
+Oar, v.t, to row as with oars. Temp. 1. 1. 
+Obsequious, adj, behaving as becomes one who 
+attends funeral obsequies. Ham, I, 2, ; F 
+Obsequiously, adv, funereally. R. III. 1. 2. >» 
+Obstacle, adj. ridiculously used for ‘obstinate.’ : 
+1 H. VI. v. 4. oe ee 
+Occupation, sb. persons occupied in business. 
+Cor. tv. 6. si 
+Occurrent, sb. an incident. Ham. v. 2. ‘a 
+Od’s body, interj. 1 H. IV. 11.4 *Od’s.in these 
+
+
+Mort, sb. death, applied to animals of the chase. pees Merry Wives and all similar — 
+Wint. Tale, 1 2. Od’s pittile Cc exclamations is 
+
+Mort-du-vinaigre, int. (French), a ridiculous Pd Cais ON eS Ne Ea a euphemism 
+Ran AeS Well, ore Sa pipintecs will. Merry Wives for ‘God’s? 
+
+
+Mortal, adj. fatal, deadly. Oth: v. 2. Mur- 
+derous. Mac. 1.5. 
+
+Mortified, p.p. ascetic. Mac. v. 2. 
+
+Mose, v.t. a doubtful word, applied to some 
+disease in a horse. Tam. of S. 111. 2. 
+
+Motion, sb. solicitation. Com. of E. 1. 1. Emo- 
+tion. Oth. 1 2. 
+
+Motion, sb. a puppet. Two Gent. 1. 1. 
+
+Motive, sb. one who moves. Ali’s Well, tv. 4. 
+That which moves, T. & Cr. tv. 5. 
+
+Motley, adj. used 2s sb. the many-colored coat 
+of a fool. As you Like it, 1. 7. A fool. 
+Tbid. 111. 3. 
+
+Motley-minded, adj. foolish, As you Like it, 
+
+
+Oeilliad, sb. an amorous glance. Merry Wiye 
+I. 3. : 
+
+
+ack: Ls \?s) Reavis 
+
+
+2. Overtasked. Ham. m1, 1, pay 
+Offering, ».p. challenging, 1 H. IVerV.e ne 
+Office, sb. benefit, kindness. Afl’s Well, iv. 
+ae use function. H. V. 11, 2, aye 
+
+, adj. a cant term for great, as we say fin 
+
+or pretty. Merry Wives, 1. 4; Mac. ieee o 
+Once, adv. some. time. Merry Wives, 111. AN 
+Oneyer, sb, a banker. 1 H. TY.) eget 
+
+doubtful word. ar cho 
+ope adv, open, Gor Py, Eyiiieds % 
+
+pe, v.t. to open. al VL. Ur. 34, hea 
+
+M. of V. 1. 1. 4 # i oe 
+Open, adj. plain. M. for M. 141. 1. Publi 
+one Mody Deeks 8 oa 
+
+pen, v.t. to give tongue as a hound. Merry 
+
+Wives, tv. 2. pice’ 
+
+
+Wakat 
+Mouse-hunt, sb. a weasel. R. & J. Iv. 4. 
+Mow, v.i. to make grimaces. Temp. 11. 2. 
+Moy, sb. a coin, probably a moidore. H. V. 1v. 4. 
+Much, int. significant of contempt. 2 H. IV. 
+
+
+II. 4. 
+Much, adj. used ironically. As you Like it, Iv. 3. 
+Mure, sb, a wall. 2 H. IV. iv. 4. 
+
+Must, sb. a scramble. A. & C, 11. 11, 
+Mutine, v.7. to mutiny. Ham. 111. 4. 
+
+Mutine, sb. a mutineer. Ham. v. 2. 
+
+
+"i ne 
+
+
+peat BC IE ome Tim, tv. 3 ie se 
+pinioned, p.p. used ridiculously for pinione 
+Much Ado, rv. 2. , age 
+Opposite, sb. adversary. Tw. N, 111, 4 Re 
+Opposition, sb. combat. Cym. tv. 1. i: 
+Or, adv. before. Mac. tv. 3. ry 
+Order, sb, measures. Com. of E, v. 3% H. 
+FVARSe ‘ 
+Ordinance, sb. rank, order. Cor. 11. 2 
+Orgulous, adj. proud. Prol. to T. & Cr, 
+Ort, sb. leaving, refuse, Tim, 1v. Se. 1 oti one 
+
+
+Napkin, sb. a handkerchief, As you Like it, 
+
+
+Iv. 3. 
+
+Natural, sb. an idiot. Temp. 111. 2. 
+
+Nayward, adv. towards denial. Wint. Tale, 11. 1. 
+
+Nayword, sb. a catch-word, by-word. Merry 
+Wives, 11. 2. 
+
+Neb, sb. the beak. Wint. Tale, 1. 2. 
+
+
+3 
+fe 
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+GLOSSARY 
+
+
+1413 
+
+
+M. of V..1r. 2 
+
+
+Qstent, sb. show, appearance. H 
+Much Ado, 
+
+
+Ostentation, sb, show, appearance. 
+Iv. 1; Cor. 1. 6. 
+
+
+Ounce, sb. a beast of prey of the tiger kind. 
+
+
+ReoN's Dr. 11:3. 
+Ouphe, sb. a fairy. Merry Wives, Iv. 4. 
+Ousel-cock, sb. the blackbird. M. N’s Dr, 111. 1. 
+Out, adv. all out, fully. Temp. 1. 2. 
+Out-look, v.t, to face down. John, v. 2. 
+Outward, adj, not in the secret of affairs. 
+All’s Well, Tot, ok 
+Outward, sb. "outside. Cym. 1. J 
+Owe, v.t. to own, Temp. 1. 1. 
+
+
+Pack, v.t. to practice unlawful confederacy. 
+Much Ado, v. 1; Tam. of S. v. 1. 
+
+Pack, sb, a number of people contedersted: R. 
+wigs Sii.' 3. 
+
+Paddock, sb. a toad. Mac. 1. as 
+
+Paid, ~.p. punished. Cym. v. 4. 
+
+Palabras, sb. words, a cant term, from the 
+Spanish. Much Ado, Ill. 5. 
+
+Pale, v.t. to enclose. A. & C. 11. 7; H. V. v. 
+
+
+Pall, v.t. to wrap as more a Pall. 
+
+Palled, p-b. impaired. (pt OTS SU 
+
+Palmer, sb. one who fee a palm-branch, in 
+token of having made a pilgrimage to Pal- 
+estine, R. & J. 1. 5. 
+
+Palmy, adj. victorious. Ham. 1. 1. 
+
+Parcelled, ~.p. belonging to individuals. R. 
+PET rz, 2. 
+
+Pard, sb. the leopard. Temp. tv. 1. 
+
+Paritor, pean apparitor. L’s L’s L. ‘111. 1. 
+
+Parle, sb. talk. Two Gent. 1. 2. 
+
+Parlous, adj. perilous. As you rik Tet Wie tas 
+keen, shrewd. Rich. III. 111. 1. 
+
+Parted, ~.p. endowed, gifted. poe : Croudiia se 
+
+Partizan, sb. a pike. R. & J. 
+
+Pash, sb. the face. Wint. Pale, ‘ as 
+
+Pash, v.t. to strike violently, to bruise, crush. 
+
+
+a joel fs 
+
+
+Cr. 11. 3. 
+Pass, v.i. to practice. Tw. N. 111. 1; Lear, 111. 
+7. To surpass expectation. Merry Wives, 
+Iv. 2. 
+
+
+.Passant, pr.p. a term of heraldry, applied to 
+
+
+animals represented on the shield as passing 
+by at a trot. Merry Wives, 1. 1.. 
+adv. surpassingly, exceedingly. M. 
+
+
+Passion, wv.t. to “have feelings. 
+Passionate, v.t. to suffer. T. 
+Passy-measure, sb. a kind of dance. 
+
+
+Temp. v. 1. 
+AS tir 2. 
+Tw. N. v. 
+
+
+Pastry, sb. the room where pastry was made. 
+- & J. Iv. 4. 
+
+Patch, sb. a mean fellow. Temp. 11. 2. 
+
+Seer p.p. dressed in motley. M. N’s Dr. 
+Iv. 
+
+Patchery, sb. trickery. T. & Cr. 11. 3. 
+
+Path, vt. to walk. J. C. 
+
+Pathetical, adj. affected, 
+Like it, rv. 
+
+Patient, poe to make patient, to compose. T. 
+
+
+wivagncritiogt As you 
+
+
+ir 
+Patine, ai the metal disc on which the bread 
+is placed in the administration of the Eu- 
+
+
+charist. M. of V. 1. 2 
+Pattern, v.t. to give an example of. Wint. 
+Tale, oe 2. Afford a pattern for. M. for 
+
+
+M. 11. 
+Pauca Sec few words. 
+
+
+Merry Wives, 1. 1. 
+Paucas, adj. few, a cant term. 
+£S 
+
+
+Ind. to Tam. 
+
+
+MOE.S: 
+
+Pavin, sb. a dance. Tw. N. v. 1. 
+
+Pax, sb. a small image of Christ. H. V. 111. 6. 
+Pay, v.t. to despatch. 1 H. IV. 11. 4. 
+
+
+Peat, sb. a term of endearment for a child. 
+Tam. of S. 1. 1. 
+Pedascule, sb. a pedant, schoolmaster. 
+of S. m1. 1. 
+
+Peer, v.t. to peep out. R. & J. 
+
+Peize, v.t. to balance, weigh ase 
+231 R: FEA: 3: 
+
+Pelting, adj. paltry. M. for M, 1. 2. 
+
+Perdu, adj. lost. Lear, tv. 7. 
+
+Perdurable, adj. durable. H. V. tv. 5. 
+
+Perdy, int. a euphemism for Par Dieu. 
+of E, tv. 4. 
+
+Perfect, adj. certain. Wint. Tale, 111. 3. 
+
+Perfect, v.t. to inform perfectly. M. for M. 
+IV. 3. 
+
+ore sb. charms worn round the neck. 1 
+
+Bee) 
+
+Perjure, sb. a perjured person. L’s L’s L. 1v. 3. 
+
+Persever, v. to persevere. Two Gent. III. 2. 
+
+Perspective, sb. a prea or some sort of 
+optical glass. Tw. N. 1. 
+
+Pew-fellow, sb. aihoneate: R. III. tv. 4. 
+
+Pheeze, v.t. to comb, fleece, curry. Ind, to 
+Tam. of Si 7BS6(Crisia3: 
+
+Pia-mater, sb. "the membrane chee the brain, 
+the brain itself. Tw. N. 1 
+
+Pick, z.¢. to pitch, throw. i. in. v. 
+
+Picked, adj, chosen, selected. John, 1. rf 
+
+Pickers (and stealers), e the fingers, used 
+ridiculously, Ham. 111. 
+
+Picking, adj, insignificant. 
+
+Pickt-hatch, sb. a place 
+Merry Wives, It. 2. 
+
+Pied, adj. motley-coated, wearing the motley 
+coat of a jester. Temp. III, 2. 
+
+Pieled, ~.p. shaven. . 1 H. VI. 1. 3. 
+
+Pight, .p. pitched. T. & Cr. v. 11. 
+
+Pilcher, sb. a scabbard. R,. & J. 111. 
+
+Pill, v.27. to pillage. Tim. iv. 1 
+
+Pin, sb. a malady of the eyes. Lear, 111. 4, 
+The centre of a target. L’s L’s L. rv. 1; 
+
+(ao Was ee 
+
+Pinfold, sb. a pound, a place to confine lost 
+cattle. Two Gent. 1. 
+
+Pioned, p.p. digged. Temp. 111. 3 
+
+Placket, sb. a petticoat-front. 
+IV. 3. 
+
+Plain song, sb. a simple air. 
+
+Plaited, ~.p. intricate. Lear, 1. 
+
+Blepched, adj, made of boards. 
+
+
+Tam, 
+
+
+John, 11. 
+
+
+Com. 
+
+
+a AaplVre 
+noted for si potiieke! 
+
+
+Wint. Tale, 
+Ha Vaatir 2: 
+
+ML for M. tv. 
+Plantation, sb, colonizing, planting a colony. 
+
+
+Temp. 11. 1. 
+Plausive, adj. plausible. All’s Well, 1. = 
+Pleached, adj. interwoven. Much Ado, 1. 2. 
+
+
+Point, sb. a lace furnished with a tag by which 
+
+
+the breeches were held up. 1H. IV. 11. 4. 
+
+Point-de-vice, adj. derived from the French, 
+faultless. Tw. N. 11.5. 
+
+Poise, sb. balance. M. for M. 11. 4. Doubs, 
+Léar,.11. 1; 
+
+Polled, ~.p. bare. Cor. Iv 
+
+Pomander, sh. a vartursedi ball. Wint. Tale, 
+
+4. 
+
+Boueaten sb. a kind of apple. L’s I’s L, 
+IV. 2. 
+
+Poor-john, sb. a herring. Temp. 11. 2. 
+
+Popinjay, sb. a parrot. -1 H, IV. 1. 3. 
+
+Port, sb. pomp, state. Tam. of S. 1. 1. 
+
+Port. sb. a gate. 2H. IV. tv. 4. 
+
+Portable, adj. bearable. Mac. Iv. 3. 
+
+Portance, sb. conduct, behavior. Cor. 1%. 3. 
+
+Possess, v.t. to inform. .Tw. lds 
+
+Potch, v.i. to push violently. Cor. 1. ro. 
+
+Potent, sb. a potentate. John, ir. 2. 
+
+
+Pouncet-box, sb. a box for holding perfumes, 
+pS ised Ong Sie 
+
+
+1414 
+
+
+GLOSSARY 
+
+
+2: 
+
+
+Power, sb. forces, army. 2 H. IV. 1. 1. 
+
+Practice, sb. wicked stratagem. Tw. N. v. 1. 
+
+Practisant, sb. a confederate. 1 H. VI. 111. 2. 
+
+Prank, v.t. to dress up. Wint. Tale, 1v. 3; 
+Cor. 11. 1. 
+
+Precept, sb. a justice’s summons. 2H. IV. v. 1. 
+
+Preciously, adv. in business of great import- 
+ance, Temp. 1.) 2, 
+
+Pregnancy, sb. fertility of invention. 2 H. IV. 
+I. 2 
+
+
+Pregnant, adj. fertile of invention. M. for M. 
+I. 1. Ready. Ham. 111. 2. Obvious. M. 
+for M. 11. 1. 
+
+Prenominate, v.t. to name beforehand, to 
+prophesy. TT. & Cr. Iv. 5. 
+
+Pre-ordinance, sb. old-established law. J. C. 
+Tit.) 1. 
+
+
+Presence, sb. the presence-chamber. H. VIII. 
+ui. 1. High bearing. M. of V. m1. 2. 
+Prest, adj. ready. M. of V. 1. 1. 
+
+
+Pretence, sb. design. Wint. Tale, 111. 2. 
+
+Pretend, v.t. to portend, 1 H. VI. 1v. 1. 
+intend, Mac. 11. 4. 
+
+Prevent, v.t. to anticipate. J. C. v. 1. 
+
+Prick, sb. the mark denoting the hour on a 
+dial. R. & J. 11. 4 
+
+Prick, v.t, to incite. Tam. of S. 311, 2. To 
+choose by pricking a hole with a pin opposite 
+thesnames J: 'C. 11.532 
+
+Prick-song, sb. music sung in parts by note. 
+LS OS AB ep & 
+
+Pricket, sb. a stag of two years. L’s L’s L. rv. 
+2. 
+
+Pride, sb. heat. Oth. 111. 3. 
+
+Prig, v.t. to steal. Wint. Tale, tv. 2. 
+
+Prime, adj. rank, lecherous. Oth. 11. 3. 
+
+Primer, adj, more-important. H. VIII. v. 2. 
+
+Primero, sb. a game at cards. H. VIII. v. 1. 
+
+Principality, sb. that which holds the highest 
+place. Two Gent. 11. 4. 
+
+Princox, sb. a coxcomb. R. & J. 1. 5. 
+
+Priser, sb. a prize-fighter. As you Like it, 11. 3. 
+
+Procure, v.t. to bring. R. & J. 11. 5. 
+
+Proface, interj. much good may it do you. 2 
+Taner Vange 
+
+Profane, adj. outspoken. Oth. 11. 1. 
+
+Progress, sb. a royal ceremonial journey. Ham. 
+1. 3: 
+
+Project, v.t. to shape or contrive. A. & C. v. 2. 
+
+Prompture, sb. suggestion. M. for M.'11. 4. 
+
+Prone, adj, ready, willing. Cym. v. 4; M. for 
+
+
+To 
+
+
+M. 1. 3. 
+
+Proof, sb. strength of manhood. Much Ado, 
+Eva 1s. 
+
+Propagate, v.t. to advance, to forward. Tim. 
+a 
+
+Propagation, sb. obtaining. M. for M. 1. 3. 
+
+Proper-false, sb. natural falsehood. Tw. N. 11. 2. 
+
+Propertied, p:p. endowed with the properties of. 
+A. & C. v. 2. 
+
+Properties, sb. scenes, dresses, &c. used in a 
+theatre. Merry Wives, Iv. 4. 
+
+Property, v.t. to take possession of. John, y. 2. 
+
+Propose, v.t. to suppose, for the sake of argu- 
+ment. 2 H. IV. v. 2. To converse. Much 
+Ado, 111. 1. 
+
+Propose, sb. conversation. Much Ado, 111. 1. 
+
+Prorogue, v.t. to defer. R. & J. 11. 2. 
+
+Provand, sb. provender. Cor. 11. 1. 
+
+Provision, sb. forecast. Temp. 1. 2. 
+
+Pucelle, sb. a virgin, the name given to Joan 
+of Arc. 1H. VI. v. 4. 
+
+Pudency, sb. modesty. Cym. 11. 5. 
+
+Pugging, adj. thieving. Wint. Tale, 1v. 2. 
+
+Pun, v.t. to pound. T. & Cr. um. 1. 
+
+Purchase, v.t, to acquire, win, As you Like it, 
+Tiree: 
+
+
+Purchase, sb. gain, winnings. 1 H. IV. um. 1. 
+
+Put, v.t. to compel. M. for M. 1. 1, _ : 
+
+Putter-on, sb. an instigator. H. VIII. 1. is 
+
+Putter-out, sb. one who lends money at inter- 
+est. Temp. UI. 3. 
+
+Putting-on, sb. instigation. M. for M, 1v. 2. 
+
+Puttock, sb, a kite. Cym. 1. 2, 
+
+
+bg dice 
+
+
+Sd re eee 
+
+
+Quail, v.i. to faint, be Janguid, be afraid. As 
+you Like it, 11. 2, v.t, to cause to quail. A. 
+& C. v. 2. 
+
+Quaint, adj. curiously beautiful. Temp. 1. 2. 
+
+Quake, v.t, to cause to quake or tremble. Cor, 
+
+
+Tags 
+
+Qualify, v.t, to moderate. Much Ado, v. 4. 
+
+Quality, sb. those of the same nature. Temp. 
+Rank or condition. M. for M. 4. is 
+
+
+Tees 
+2: HoVle sures 
+
+
+eps IN ine), 
+Quarrel, sb. a suit, cause. 
+Quarry, sb. game, a heap of game. Ham. vy. 
+2; Cor, 1. 1: a 
+
+
+Quart d’écu, sb. a quarter crown. All’s Well, 
+
+
+Iv. 3. bY 
+Quarter, sb. the post allotted to a soldier. Tim. a 
+
+
+Vv. 5. 
+Quat, sb. a pimple; used in contempt of a per- — 
+son. Oth. v. 1. 
+Queasy, adj. squeamish, unsettled. Much Ado, 
+rk 1s: Rear, ina = 
+Quell, sb. murder. Mace. 1. 7. y 
+Quench, v.1, to grow cool. Cym. 1. 6. 
+uern, sb. a hand-mill. M. N’s Dr, um. 1. ; 
+Quest, sb. enquiry, search, inquest, jury. M. 
+for M. 1v. 1; R. III. 1. 4; Ham. v. 1. a 
+Questrist, sb. one who goes in search of an- 
+other. Lear, 111, 7. 
+Quick, adj. so far gone in pregnancy that the 
+child is alive. L’s L’s L. v. 2. 
+Quicken, v.i. to come to life. Lear, 11. 7. : 
+Quiddity, bs a subtle question, Ham. y. 1; tg 
+2. 
+
+
+Quiddit, ToL a Eb 
+Quillet, sb. quidlibet, a subtle case inlaw. L’s 
+E/StEn 1Vn ge 
+Quintain, sb. a post for tilting at. As you Like 
+Its Jen 2, 
+
+
+Quip, sb. sharp jest, a taunt. Much Ado, 1.3. _ 
+Quire, v.i. to sing in concert. M. of V. v. 1. _ 
+Quit, v.7. to requite, respond. Lear,. 11.. 7; 
+Ham. v. 2. j 
+Quit, v.t. past tense of the verb to quit, quitted. 
+Cyms iy 1s 
+Quitance, sb. requital. H. V. 11. 2. 
+Quiver, adj. active. 2 H. IV. 111, 2. 
+Quote, v.t..to note. R. & J. n 4. 
+
+
+Much Ado, 1v. 1; Cor. v. 1. wi. to drive a 
+clouds. 3 H. VE. 1. 1. 
+
+Rag, sb. a term of contempt applied to persons. 
+Tim. iv. 3. 
+
+
+ake, v.t. to cover. Lear, Iv. 6. 
+Rapt, $.p. transported with emotion, 
+Rapture, sb. a fit. Cor. 11. 1. 
+Rascal, sb. a lean deer. J. C. 1v. 3. 
+Rash, adj. quick, violent. Wint. Tale, 1. 2. 
+Rate, sb. opinion, judgment. Temp. 1. 1. 
+Rate, v.t. to assign, to value. A. & C. 11. 63 
+
+Cym. 1. 5. To scold. M. of VY. 1. 3. fi 
+Ratolorum, a ludicrous mistake for, Rotulorum, 
+
+
+Merry Wives, 1. 1 
+Ravin, adj. ravenous. All’s Well, 11%. 2. 
+Mac. 11. 4. 
+
+
+Maciaigee 
+
+
+Ravin, v.t. to devour. 
+
+
+GLOSSARY 
+
+
+é 
+
+
+4415 
+
+
+Raught, past tense of v. to reach. H. V. 
+Iv. 6, 
+
+Rawly, adv. inadequately. H. V. iv. 1. 
+
+Rawness, sb. unprovided state. Mac. Iv. 3. 
+
+‘ Rayed, p.p. arrayed, served. Tam. of S. iv. 1. 
+
+Razed, ~.p. slashed. Ham. 111. 2. 
+
+Rear-mouse, sb. the bat. M. N’s Dr. 11. 3. 
+
+Rebate, v.t. to deprive of keenness. M. for M. 
+
+
+1,45. 
+Rebeck, sb. a three stringed fiddle. R. & J. 1v. 5. 
+Receipt, sb. money received. R. II. 1 1. 
+Receiving, sb. capacity. Tw. N. 11. 1. 
+Recheat, sb. a point of the chase to call back the 
+hounds. Much Ado, 1. 1. 
+Record, v.t. to sing. Two Gent. v. 4. 
+Recorder, sb. a flute. Ham, 111. 2. 
+Recure, v.t. to cure, recover. R. III. 111. 
+Red-lattice, adj. suitable to an ale-house, be- 
+cause ale-houses had commonly red lattices. 
+Merry Wives, 11. 2. 
+
+
+Red-plague, sb. erysipelas. Temp. 1. 2. 
+Reduce, v.t. to bring back. R. III. v. 4. 
+Reechy, adj. smoky, dirty. Cor. 11. 1. 
+
+
+Refell, 7.t. to refute. M. for M. v. 1. 
+
+Refer, v.r. to reserve to. M. for M. 111. 1. 
+
+Regiment, sb. government. A. & C. 111. 6. 
+
+Regreet, sb. a salutation. M. of V. 11. 9. 
+
+Regreet, v.t. to salute. R. II. 1. 3. 
+
+Reguerdon, sb. requital. 1H. VI. 
+
+Relative, adj. applicable. Ham. 11. 2. 
+
+Remember, v.t. to remind. Wint. Tale, 111. 
+M. for M. 11. 1 
+
+Remorse, sb. pity. M. for M. v. 1. 
+
+Remorseful, adj. full of pity, compassionate. 
+Two Gent. Iv. 3. 
+
+Remotion, sb. removal. Tim. rv. 3. 
+
+Removed, adj. sequestered, remote. M. for M. 
+1. 4; As you Like it, 111. 2. 
+
+Render, v.t. to describe you. 
+IV. 3. 
+
+Render, sb. account. Cym. tv. 4. 
+
+Renege, v.t. to renounce, to deny. A. & C. 1 
+
+
+ds ear, -21, 2, 
+Repair, v.f. to renovate, comfort. All’s Well, 
+
+
+IDs As 
+
+
+a: 
+=, 
+
+
+As you Like it, 
+
+
+Teo 
+Repeal, v.t. to reverse the sentence of exile. 
+
+~ Two Gent. v. 4. 
+
+* Reproof, sb. confutation. 1H. IV. 1. 2. 
+Repugn, v.t, to resist. --1 H. VI. 1v. 1. 
+Requiem, sb. mass for the dead, so called be- 
+
+cause it begins with the words, Requiem eter- 
+nam dona eis, Domine. Ham. v. 1. 
+Resolve, v.t. to satisfy. 3 H. VI. 111. 2..To 
+dissolve. Ham. 1. 2, 
+Respect, sb. consideration. Much Ado, 11. 3. 
+Respective, adj. respectful, thoughtful. M. of 
+Verve. 
+Respective, adj. corresponding. Two Gent. 1v. 4, 
+Respectively, adv. respectfully. Tim. rz. 1. 
+Retailed, ~.p. handed down. R. III. 111. 1. 
+Retire, sb. retreat. 1 H. IV. 11. 3. 
+Retire, v.t. to draw back. R. II. 11. 2, 
+Reverb, v.t. to echo. Lear, 1. 1. 
+Revolt, sb. a rebel. John, v. 1. 
+Rib, v.t. to enclose as within ribs. M. of V. 11. 
+
+
+7. 
+Rid, v.t. to destroy. Temp. r. 2. 
+
+
+Rift, v.t. to split. Wint. Tale, v. 1. v.t. to 
+split. Temp. v. 1. 
+
+Rift, sb. a split. Temp. r. 2. 
+
+Riggish, adj. wanton. A. & C. 11. 2. 
+
+Rigol, sb. a circle. 2 H. IV. rv. 4. 
+
+Ripe, adj. drunk. Temp. v. 1. 
+
+Rivage, sb. the shore. H. V. 111. Chorus. 
+
+Rival, sb. a partner. Ham. 1. 1 
+
+
+Rivality, sb. equal rank. A. & C. 11. 5. 
+Rive, v.t. to fire. 1H. VI. iv. 2. 
+
+
+Road, sb, the high road, applied to a common 
+woman (trayiata). 2H. IV. 11. 2. 
+
+Roisting, adj. roistering, violent. T. & Cr. 11. 2. 
+
+Romage, sb. unusual stir. Ham. 1. 1. 
+
+Ronyon, sb. a term of contempt applied to a 
+woman, Mac. I, 3. 
+
+Rood, sb. the crucifix. R. & J. 1. 3. 
+
+Rook, sb. a cheater. Merry Wives, 1. 3. 
+
+Ropery,| sb. roguery. R. & J. 11. 4. 
+
+Rope-tricks, sb, tricks such as are played by 
+a rope-dancer. Tam, of S. 1. 2. 
+
+Round, v.i. to whisper. Oth. 1. 3. To become 
+great with child. Wint. Tale, 11. 1. v.t. to 
+finish off. Temp. rv. 1. 
+
+Round, sb. a diadem. Mac. 1. 5. 
+
+Round, adj. unceremonious. Mac. t. §, 
+
+Roundel, sb. a dance or song. M. N’s Dr. 11. 3. 
+
+Roundure, sb. an enclosure. John, um. 1. 
+
+Rouse, sb. carousal. Ham. 1. 4. 
+
+Roynish, adj. mangy. As you Like it, 11. 2. 
+
+Rubious, adj. ruddy. Tw. N. 1. 4. .° 
+
+Ruddock, sb, the redbreast. Cym. tv. 1. 
+
+Rush, v.f. to push. R. & J. 111. 3 
+
+Rushling, adj. rustling. Merry Wives, 11. 2. 
+
+
+Sacrificial, adj. reverent, as words used in reli- 
+gious worship. Tim 1.1 
+
+Sacring-bell, sb. the little bell rung at mass to 
+give notice that the elements are consecrated, 
+H. VITE. rite 
+
+Sad, adj. serious. Two Gent. 1. 2, 
+
+Sadly, adv. seriously. Much Ado, 11. 3. 
+
+Sadness, sb. seriousness. R. & J. 1. 1. 
+
+Safe, v.t, to make safe. A. & C. 1Vv. 6. 
+
+Sag, v.t. to hang down. Mac. v. 3. 
+
+Salt, adj. lascivious. Oth. um. 1; m1, 3. 
+
+Salt, sb. taste. Merry Wives, 11. 3. 
+
+
+Sanded, adj, marked with yellow spots. M. 
+N’s Dr. tv. 1. 
+
+Sans, prep. without. Temp. 1. 2. 
+
+Saucy, adj, lascivious. Ail’s Well, tv. 4. 
+
+Saw, sb. moral saying. L’s L’s L. v. 2. 
+
+Say, adj. silken. 2H. VI. tv. 7. 
+
+Say, sb. assay, taste, relish. Lear, v. 3. 
+
+Scaffoldage, sb. the gallery of a theatre. 
+
+
+T. & 
+(Soo ee yD / 
+Scald, adj. scurvy, scabby. Merry Wives, rz. 1. 
+Scale, v.t. to weigh in scales. Cor. 11. 
+Scall, sb. a scab, a word of reproach. Merry 
+Wives, 111. 1. 
+Scamble, v.7. to scramble. H. V. 1. 1. 
+Scamel, sb. probably a misprint for sea-mel, 
+
+
+sea-mew. Temp. II. 2. 
+Scan, v.¢. to examine subtly. Oth. rrr. 3 
+Scant, v.t. to cut short, to spare. M. of V. 111. 2. 
+Scant, adj. scanty, short. Ham. v. 2. adv. 
+scarcely. R. & J. 1. 2. 
+Scantling, sb. a small portion. T. & Cr. 1. 3. 
+
+
+Scape, wv.t. to escape. Much Ado, 1. 1. 
+Scape, sb. a sally. M. for M. 1. 1. 
+Scathe, sb. injury. 2 H. VI. 11, 4. 
+Scathe, v.t. to injure. R. & J. 1. 5. 
+Scathful, adj. destructive. Tw. N. v. 1. 
+Sconce, sb. the head. Ham. v. 1. 
+
+
+Scotch, uv t. to bruise or cut slightly. Mac. 111. 2. 
+Scrimer, sb. a fercer. Ham. tv. 7, 
+
+Scroyle, sb. a scabby fellow. John, 11. 3. 
+Scull, sb. a shoal of fish. T. & Cx. v. 5. 
+Scurvy, adj. scabby; metaph. mean. Temp. 11. 
+
+
+2h 
+
+Seal, v.t. to set_one’s seal to a deed; hence, te 
+confirm. Cor. 1. 3. 
+
+Seam, sb: fat. T.-& Cr. xr. 3. 
+
+Seamy, adj. showing the seam or sewing. Oth. 
+IV. 2. 
+
+Sear, a7¢j. scorched, withered. Mac. v. 3. 
+
+| Sear, v.t, to stigmatise. All’s Well, 1. 1. 
+
+
+1416 
+
+
+Search, v.¢. to probe; hence, to apply a healing 
+remedy. Two Gent. 1. 2. 
+
+Seated, adj. fixed, confirmed. Mac. 1. 3. 
+
+Sect, sb. a slip or scion. Oth. 1. 3. A political 
+patty. Lear, v. 3. 
+
+Securely, adv. inconsiderately. T. & Cr. rv. 5. 
+
+Seel, v.t. to close. Oth. 111. 3. 
+
+Seeling, prep. closing, blinding. Mac. m1. 2. 
+
+Seeming, adv. seemly,: becomingly. As you 
+Like it, v. 4. 
+
+Seeming, sb. outward manner and appecrance. 
+Wint. Tale, Iv. 4. 
+
+Seen, adj. versed, instructed. Tam. of S. 1. 2. 
+
+Seld, adv. seldom. T. & Cr. tv. 5. 
+
+Self-bounty, sb. native goodness. Oth. 111. 3. 
+
+Semblably, adv, alike. 1 H. IV. v. 3. 
+
+Seniory, sb. seniority. R. III. 1v. 4. 
+
+Sennet, sb. a flourish of trumpets. 
+
+Sepulchre, v.t. to bury. Two Gent. 1v. 2. 
+
+Sequestration, sb. separation. Oth. 1. 3. 
+
+Sere, adj. dry. Com. of E. 1Vv. 2. 
+
+Serjeant, sb. a bailiff. Ham. v. 2. 
+
+serpigg) sb. a cutaneous disease. M. for M. 
+111. 
+
+Serviceable, adj. ‘serviceable vows,’ vows. that 
+you will do her servicé, or be her servant. 
+Two Gent. 111. 2. 
+
+Setebos, sb. the name of a fiend. Temp r. 2. 
+
+Setter, sb. one who watches travellers to give 
+information to thieves. 1 H. IV. 1. 2. 
+
+Several, sb. land which is not common but ap- 
+propriated. L’s L’s L. 11. 1. 
+
+Shame, v.i. to be ashamed. Cor. 11. 2. 
+
+Shame, sb. modesty. Com. of E. 311. 2. 
+
+Shards, sb. shreds, broken fragments of pot- 
+tery. Ham. v. 1. 
+
+Shards, sb. the wing cases of beetles; hence 
+
+
+‘sharded.’ Cym. 111. 3; and ‘shard-bone.’ 
+Mac, 111. 2. ; 
+
+Sharked, ~.p. snatched up, as a shark does his 
+prey. Ham. 1.1 
+
+
+Sheen, sb. brilliancy. M.N’s Dr. 11. 1. 
+
+Sheer, adj. pure. R. II. v. 3s Unmixed. Ind. 
+to Tam. of S. 2. 
+
+Shent, ~.p. rebuked, blamed. Cor. v. 2. Hurt. 
+Ham. 111. 3. 
+
+Sheriff’s-post, sb. a post at the door of a 
+sheriff, to which royal proclamations were 
+fixed. Tw. N. 1. 5. 
+
+Shive, sb. slice. T. A. 11. 1. 
+
+Shot, sb. the reckoning at an ale-house. 
+Gent. 11. 5. 
+
+Shoughs, sb. shaggy dogs. 
+
+Shoulders’ Pp) RINDI: 
+
+
+Two 
+
+
+Mac. 111, 1. 
+ur. 7. A doubtful 
+
+
+word, 
+
+Shovel-board, sb. game played by sliding metal 
+pieces along a board at a mark. Merry 
+Wives, 1. 1. 
+
+Shrewd, adj. mischievous. All’s Well, tr. 5. 
+
+Shrift, sb. confession. R. III. 111. 4. Absolu 
+tion. M. for M. trv. 2. 
+
+Shrive, v.t. to confess. M. of V. 1.2. 
+
+Shriving-time, sb. time for confession. Ham. 
+Vez 
+
+Shroud, v.7. to enshroud oneself, cover oneself 
+up; Temp.) rf.) 2 
+
+Side-sleeves, sb. loose hanging sleeves. 
+
+
+Much 
+Ado, 111, 4. 
+Siege, sb. seat. M. for M. tv. 2. Stool. 
+Temp. 11. 2. Rank. Ham. tv. 7. , 
+Sight, sb. an aperture in a helmet. 2 H. IV. 
+Iv. 1. 
+
+Sightless, adj. invisible. Mac. 1. 5. Unsightly. 
+John, tr. 1 
+
+Sign, 72.4. to give an omen. A. & C. 1Vv. 3. 
+
+
+Silly, adj. simple, rustic. Cym. v. 3. 
+Simular, adj. counterfeit, feigned. Cym. v. 5. 
+
+
+GLOSSARY Bacon 
+
+
+tA io Re 
+
+
+Mae, 1. 3. ‘ 
+a title applied to a bachelor of erts at 
+the Universities. Tw. N. Iv. 2. FY 
+Sith, conj. since. Two Gent, 1. 2. 
+Sithence, conj. since. Cor, 111. 1, d 
+Sizes, sb. allowances. Lear, 11. 4. si. me 
+Skains-mates, sb. scapegraces. R. & J. 11. 4. — " 
+Skill, v.i. to be of importance. Tam. of S. 11, 2. a 
+Skilless, adj. ignorant. Temp. 111. 1. + 2 
+Skimble-skamble, adj. rambling, disjointed. 1 
+He IV. 11%, /1; : 
+Skinker, sb. a drawer of liquor. 1H. IV. 1. 4. 
+Skirr, v.t. to scour. Mac. v. 3. 
+Slack, v.t. slacken. Oth, tv. oe 
+Slave, v.t. to turn to slavish uses. Lear, iv. 1 ' 
+Sleave, sb. floss-silk. Mac. 11. 2. = 
+Sledded, p.p. sledged. Ham. 1. 1. 
+Sleided, ~.p. untwisted, raw, applied to silk. 
+Per. 1v. (Gower). 
+Sleights, sb. artifices. Mac. rr. 5. 
+Slice, int. Merry Wives, 1. 1. 
+Slipper, adj. slippery. Oth. 11. 1. : 
+Slips, sb. a kind of noose, or leash. H. V. 111, 
+A piece of base money. R. & J. 11. F Medel 
+Sliver, v.t. to slice. Lear, iv. 2. 
+Sliver, sb. a slice. Ham. iv. 7. 
+Slops, sb. loose breeches. Much Ado, 111. 2. 
+Slubber, v.t. to slur over. M. of V. 11. 8. ; 
+Smiscice b.p. smeared, soiled. Much Ado, 
+IV. 
+
+
+Smooth, v.#. to flatter. Per. 1, 2. 
+Smoothed, .p. flattered, fawned upon. Tim, 
+Iv. 3. 
+
+Sneap, sb, taunt, sarcasm. 2 H. IV. 1. 1. 
+
+Sneaped, ~.p. pinched. Luer. 333- 
+
+Sneaping. L’s L’s L. x. 1. 
+
+Sneck-up, int. go hang! Tw. N. u. 3. A 
+‘To take in snuff 
+
+
+Snuff, sb. anger. L’s L’s L. 
+is to take offence. 
+Softly, adv. gently. Wint. Tale, 1v. 2; Ham. 
+IV. 4. & 
+Soil, sb. spot, taint. Ham, 1. 3. 
+Solicit, sb. solicitation. Cym. 11. 3. 
+Solidare, sb. a small coin. Tim. mr. 1, 
+Solve, sb. solution. Son. 60. 
+Sometimes, adv, formerly. 
+Sooth, sb. truth. 
+tion, 
+
+
+Single, adj. feeble. 
+Sir, sb. 
+
+
+t 
+
+
+IV. 2. 
+Sorriest, adj. most sorrowful. Mac. 111. 2. 
+
+
+Sorry, adj. sorrowful, dismal. Com. of E. v. 1 
+
+
+Sort, sb. a company. M. N’s Dr. ut. 2. 
+Rank, condition. R. II. 1v. 1.’ Lot. T. & 
+Sono 3. ‘In a sort,’ in a manner. Temp. 
+Sn te , 
+
+Sort, v.t. to choose. Two Gent. 111. 2. 24. to 
+suit. Much Ado, v. 2. To consort. 2 H. 
+IV. 11. 4 . 
+
+
+John, tr. 2; ve 7% 
+ue of the lightning flash. M. N’s D: 
+ee | 
+
+Sprag, adj. quick. Merry Wives, tv. 1. ; 
+
+Spring, sb. shoot, bud. V. & A. 656. Begin: 
+ning. M. N’s Dr, 11. 2; 2 H. IV. 1. 4. 
+
+
+GLOSSARY 
+
+
+Springhalt, sb. stringhalt, a disease of horses. 
+“H. VITE 1.13. 
+
+Sprited, ~.p. haunted. Cym. 11. 3. 
+
+Spurs, sb. roots of trees. Temp. v. 1; Cym. tv. 
+
+
+eae 
+
+Squandered, p.. scattered. M of V. 1. 3. 
+
+Square, v.t. to quarrel. M. N’s Dr. 11. 1. 
+
+Square, sb. the front part of a woman’s dress, 
+stomacher. Wint. Tale, rv. 1. 
+
+Square, adj. equitable. Tim. v. 1. 
+
+Squarer, sb, quarreller. Much Ado, 1. 1. 
+
+
+Squash, sb. an unripe peascod. Tw. N, 1. 5: 
+Squier, sb. a square or rule. L’s L’s L. 
+Vez 
+
+
+_ Squiny, v.i. to’ squint. Lear, tv. 6. 
+
+
+Statua, sb. a statue. 
+
+
+Staggers, sb. a disease in horses, attended with 
+giddiness: hence any bewildering distress. 
+Cym. v. 5. 
+
+Stain, v.t. to disfigure. Temp, r. 2. 
+
+Stale, sb. a decoy. Temp. tv. 1. A_ gull. 
+Tam. of S. 1.1. A prostitute. Much Ado, 
+II. 2. 
+
+Stale, v.f. to make stale, deprive anything of 
+its freshness. T. & Cr. 11. 3. 
+Stand upon, to be incumbent on. R. II. 1 2. 
+Staniel, sb, an inferior kind of hawk. Tw. N. 
+
+an Sd 
+
+Stark, adv. stiff. Cym. 1v. 2. 
+
+Starkly, adv. stiffly. M. for M. 1v. 2. 
+
+
+State, sb. a canopied chair. Tw. N. 11. 5s. 
+
+Station, 5d. attitude. Ham. 111. 4. Act of 
+standing. A. & C. m1, 3. 
+
+Statist, sb. a statesman. Cym. 11. 4. 
+
+
+R. III. 121. ' 7. 
+
+Statue, sb. image, picture. Two Gent. ty. 4. 
+
+Statute, sb. security, obligation. Son, 134. 
+
+Statute-caps, sb. woollen caps worn by citizens. 
+Ls E’sdinev. 2. 
+
+Stay, sb. a check. John, 11. 2. 
+
+Stead, v.t. to profit. Temp. 1. 2. 
+
+Stelled, ~.¢. (a doubtful word) set or fixed. 
+
+
+- Lucr. 1444. Son. 24. 
+
+Sternage, sb. steerage, course. H. V. 111. 
+Chorus. 
+
+Stickler, sb. an arbitrator in combats. T. & 
+
+
+Crs Wveto: 
+Stigmatic, sb. a deformed person. 2H. VI. v. 1. 
+Stigmatical, adj, deformed. Com. of E. iv. 2. 
+Still, adj. constant. T. A. 11. 2. 
+Still, adv. constantly. Temp. 1. 2. 
+Stilly, adv. softly. H. VI. 1v. Chorus, 
+Stint, v.t. to stop. H. VIII. x. 2. 
+SEG DoT aes) Te. 3. 
+Stithy, sb. a smith’s forge. Ham. 111. 2. 
+Stithy, v.t. to forge. T. & Cr. ww. 5. 
+Stoccado, sb. a stoccata, or thrust in fencing. 
+Merry Wives, 11. 1. 
+Stock, sb. a stocking. Tam. of S. m1. 3. 
+Stomach, sb. courage, stubbornness. Temp. 1. 
+2. Appetite, inclination. Temp. 11. 1. 
+Stone-bow, sb. a cross-bow for throwing stones. 
+Tw. N. 11. 5: 
+Stoup, sb. a cup. Tw. N. 11. 3. 
+Stout, adj. strong, healthy. Tim. rv. 3. 
+Temp. rrr. 8. 
+
+
+vt. ‘To 
+
+
+Stover, sb. folder. 
+
+Strachy, sb. A word of doubtful meaning. 
+Tw. N. 11 5. 
+
+Straight, adv. immediately. Ham. v. 1. 
+
+Strain, sb. lineage. Much Ado, 11. 1. Disposi- 
+tion. Merry Wives, 11. 1. 
+
+Straited, p.p. straitened. Wint. Tale, tv. 4. 
+
+Strange, adj. foreign. L’s L’s L. tv. 2. Coy, 
+reserved. R. & J. 11. 2. Marvellous. Oth. 
+
+
+Ws '2e 
+Strangeness, sb. coyness, reserve. T. & Cr. 
+
+
+TIT.» 3: 
+Stranger. sb. foreigner. H. VITI. 1. = 
+
+
+Strappado, sb. a kind of punishment. 
+Il. 4. 
+
+Stricture, sb. strictness. M. for M. t. 4. 
+
+Strossers, sb. trowsers. H. V, 111. 7. 
+
+Stuck, sb. a thrust of a sword, Ham. iv. 7: 
+
+Stuck in, sb. corruption of stoccata. Tw. N. 
+Ill. 4. 
+
+Stuff, sb. baggage. Com. of E, iv. 4. Mate- 
+rial, substance. Oth. 1. 1. 
+
+Stuffed, p.p. filled, stored. Much Ado, 1. 1. 
+
+Sty, v.t. to lodge as in a sty. Temp. 1. 2. 
+
+Subscribe, v.t. to yield. Lear) 1. 2. vs. 
+succumb. T. & Cr. iv. 5. 
+
+Success, sb. issue, consequence. Much Ado, 1. 
+3. Succession. Wint. Tale, 1. 2. 
+
+Successive, adj. succeeding. 2 H. VI. mz. 1. 
+
+Successively, adv. in succession, 2H. IV. 1v. 4. 
+
+Sudden, adj. hasty, rash. As you Like it, 11. 7 
+
+Suddenly, adv. hastily. R. IIL, tv. 1. 
+
+Sufferance, sb. suffering. M. for M. 11. 1. 
+
+Suggest, v.t. to tempt, entice. All ’s Well, iv. 5. 
+
+Suggestion, sb, temptation, enticement. Mae. 
+
+
+Tage 
+Suited, ~.p. dressed. All’s Well. 1. 1. 
+Sullen, adj. doleful, melancholy. John, 1. 1. 
+Sumpter, sb, a horse that carries provisions on 
+a journey. Lear, 11, 4. 
+Tam. of S. 
+
+
+pupecees sb. a trick, imposition. 
+
+Weed: 
+
+Supposed, #.p. counterfeit. Tam. of S. 1. 1. 
+
+Surcease, v.1. to cease. Cor. 111. 2. 
+
+Surcease, sb. cessation, end. Mac. 1. Te 
+
+Surprise, v.t. to capture by surprise. 3H VE. 
+Iv. 2. 
+
+Sur-reined, .p. over-worked. H. V. 111. 5s. 
+
+Suspect, sb, suspicion. R. III, 1. 3. 
+
+Suspire, v.i. to breathe. 2 H. IV. 1v. 4. 
+
+Swabber, sb. a sweeper of the deck of a ship. 
+Temp. 11. 2. 
+
+Swarth, adj. black. John, 111. 1, 
+
+Swarth, adj. black. T. A. um. 3. 
+
+Swarth, sb. quantity of grass cut down by one 
+sweep of the scythe. Tw. N. 11. 3. 
+
+Swasher, sb. swaggerer. H. V, 111. 2. 
+
+Swashing, pr.p. dashing, smashing. R. & J. 1. 1.. 
+
+Swath, sb. The same as ‘swarth.’ T. & Cr. v, ie 
+
+Swathling, adj. swaddling. 1H, IV. 111. 2. 
+
+Sway, v.t. to move on. Lear, 1. 1. 
+
+Swear, v.t. to adjure. Lear, 1. 1. 
+
+Swear over, v.t. to out-swear. Wint. Tale, 1. 2. 
+
+Swift, adj. ready, quick. Much Ado, 11. 1. 
+
+Swinge-buckler, sb, a bully. 2H. IV. 11. 2. 
+
+
+1417 
+
+
+1H. IV. 
+
+
+to 
+
+
+Table, sb. a tablet, note-book. Ham. 1. 2. 
+
+Table-book, sb. note-book. Wint. Tale, rv. 3. 
+
+Tables, sb. the game of backgammon. L’s L’s 
+L, v. 2, A note book. Ham. 1. s. 
+
+Tabor, sb, a small side-drum. Temp. rv. 1. 
+
+Taborer. sd. a player on the tabor, Temp. IIt. 2. 
+
+Tabourine, sb, tambourine, drum. T,. & Cr. Iv. 5. 
+
+Tag, sb. the rabble. Cor. m1. 1. 
+
+Taint, p.p. tainted. 1 H. VI. v. 3. 
+
+Tainture, sb. defilement. 2 H. VI. rr. 1. 
+
+Take, v.t. to infect, blast, bewitch. Merry 
+Wives, tv. 4; Ham. 1. 1. 
+
+Take in, v.t. to conquer. A, & C. 
+Cor. 1. 2. 
+
+Take out, v.t. to copy. Oth. m1. 4. 
+
+Take up, v.t. to borrow money, or buy on 
+credit. 2H. VI. iv. 7. To make up a quar- 
+rel. As you Like it, v. 4 
+
+Taking, sb. infection, malignant 
+Lear, III. 4. 
+
+Taking up, sb. buying on credit. 2 H. IV. 14, 2, 
+
+Tall, adj. strong, valiant. Tw. N. tr. 3. 
+
+Tale, sb, counting, reckoning. Mac. 1, 3 
+
+
+IT. 75 
+
+
+influence, 
+
+
+1418 
+
+
+GLOSSARY ; 
+
+
+a rn 
+
+
+Tallow-catch, sb. a lump of tallow. 1. H. IV. 
+ee rE 
+
+Tang, sb. twang, sound. Temp. 11. 2. 
+
+Tang, v.t, to sound. Tw. N..11. 5. 
+
+Tanling, sb, anything tanned by the sun. Cym. 
+Iv. 4. 
+
+Tarre, v.t, to excite, urge on. John, 1v, 1. 
+
+Tarriance, sb. delay. Two Gent. 11. 7. 
+
+Tartar, sb. Eartarus..< Ho lV.. ue 2: 
+
+Task, v.t. to tax. 1 H. IV. 1v. 3. Challenge. 
+ReoDT sve at. 
+
+Tasking, sb. challenging. 1 H. IV. v. 2. 
+
+Taste, v.t. to try. Tw. N. 111 4. 
+
+Tawdry-lace, sb. a rustic necklace. Wint. Tale, 
+Iv. 3. 
+
+Taxation, sb. satire, sarcasm. As you Like it, 
+Tapes 
+
+Taxing, sb. satire. As you Like it, 11. 7. 
+
+Teen, sb. grief. Temp. 1. 2. 
+
+Tell, v.t. to count. Temp. 11. 1. 
+
+Temper, v.t. to mix. Cym. v. 5. 
+
+Temperance, sb. temperature. Temp, 1. 1. 
+
+Tempered, p.p. mixed. Ham. v. 2. 
+
+Tend, v.t. to attend to. 2H. VI. 1. 1. 
+
+Tender, v.t. to hold, to esteem. Temp. 11. 1. 
+To have consideration for. Two Gent. 1Vv. 4. 
+
+Tent, v.t. to probe as a wound. Cor. 111, I. 
+
+Tent, sb. a probe for searching a wound. Cym. 
+Ill. 4. 
+
+Tercel, sb. the male of the goshawk. T. & Cr. 
+Elis ¢2. 
+
+Termagant, sb. a ranting character in old plays. 
+Ham. 111. 2. 
+
+Tested, p.p. pure, assayed. M. for M. 11. 2. 
+
+Testern, v.t. to reward with a tester, or six- 
+pence. Two Gent. 1. 1. 
+
+Tharborough, sb. (corrupted from ‘third-bor- 
+ough’) a constable. L’s L’s L. 1 1, 
+
+Theorick, sb. theory. All’s Well, tv. 3. 
+
+Thewes, sb. sinews, muscles. 2 H. IV. 111. 2. 
+
+Thick, adv. rapidly. 2H. IV. 11. 3; Cym. m1. 2, 
+
+Thick-pleached, ~.p. thickly intertwined. Much 
+
+
+Ado, I, 2. 
+Third-borough, sb. a constable. Ind. to Tam. 
+or S..4. 
+Thought, sb.-anxiety, grief. Ham. 111. 1; A. 
+C. 1v. 6. So ‘to take thoughts’ is to give 
+way to grief. J. C. 1 1. 
+Tharsonical, adj. boastful. As you Like it, v. 2. 
+Three-man beetle, sb. a wooden mallet worked 
+by three men. 2H. IV. 1. 2. 
+Three-man-song-men, sb. singers of glees in 
+three parts. Wint. Tale, Iv. 3. 
+Three-pile, sb. three-piled velvet. Wint. Tale, 
+
+
+IV. 3. 
+
+Threne, sb. lament. Ph. & T. 40. 
+
+Thrid, sb. thread, fibre. Temp. tv. 1. . 
+
+Throe, v.t. to put in agonies. Temp. 11. 1. 
+
+Thrum, sb. the tufted end of a thread in weav- 
+ing. M. N’s Dr. v. 1. 
+
+Thrummed, p.p. made of coarse ends or tufts. 
+Merry Wives, Iv. 2. 
+
+Tickle, adj. ticklish, M. for M. 1. 3. 
+
+Tight, adj. nimble, active. Tam. of S. 11, 1; 
+
+A 
+
+
+gee Co1y, 4. 5 
+Tightly, adv. briskly, promptly. Merry Wives, 
+TERA ERO Ze 
+FiVeniienl. 
+
+
+Tike, sb. a cur. 
+Tilly-vally, int. an exclamation of contempt. 
+
+
+w. N, 11. 3. 
+
+Tilth, sb. tillage. Temp. 11. 1. 
+
+Timeless, adj. untimely. R. IT. 1. 1. 
+
+Tinct, sb. stain, dye. Ham. ut. 4. 
+
+Tire, sb. attire, head-dress. Two Gent. tv. 4. 
+
+Tire, v.i_to tear as a bird of prey. 3 H. VI. 
+1. 1. Hence, metaphorically, to feed. Cym. 
+be VE, 
+
+
+Tire, v.t. to attire, dress. Com. of E. 11. 2. 
+
+Tod, v.i, to yield a tod of wool. Wint. Tale, 
+IV. 3. 
+
+Tokens, sb. plague spots. L’s L’s L. v. 2, 
+
+Denia 2 p.p. marked with plague spots. A: & 
+
+. ur. 8. f 
+
+Toll, vt. to exact toll. 
+Pay toll. All’s Well, v. 3. 
+
+Too too, adv. excessively. 
+Ham. 1, 2, 
+
+Topless, adj, supreme, without superior. T. & 
+
+
+Two Gent. 1. 4; 
+
+
+Me SB 
+Touch, sb. touchstone for testing gold. R. III. 
+Iv. 2. Trait. As you Like it, un 2. An 
+acute feeling. Cym. 1. 1. 
+Touched, p.p. pricked. T, A. 1Vv. 4. 
+Touse, v.t. to pull, drag. M. for M. v. 1. 
+Toward, adv. nearly ready. M. N’s Dr. ut, 1. 
+Towards, adv, nearly ready. R. & J. 1. 5. 
+Toys, sb. trifles, foolish tricks. 2H. IV. 1. 4. 
+Trade, sb. beaten path. H. VIII. v. 1. 
+Tranect, sb. a ferry. M. of V. 111, 4. 
+Trash, v.t. to check, as a huntsman his hounds. 
+Temp. 1. 2; Oth. 11. 1 
+Translated, p.p. transformed. M. N’s Dr. 111. 1. 
+Travail, sb. labor, toil. -1 H. VI. v. 
+
+
+4. 
+Tray-trip, sb. an old game played with dice. 
+
+
+LWwaNaotrese 
+Treachers, sb, traitors. Lear, 1. 2. 
+Treaties, sb. entreaties. A. & C. 111. 9. 
+Trenched, ~.p. carved. Two Gent. 111. 2, 
+Trick, sb. technically, a copy of a coat of arms; 
+hence, any peculiarity which distinguishes 
+voice or feature. Lear, tv. 6+ Wint. Tale, 11, 3. 
+Trick, v.t. to dress up. H. V. 111. 6. 
+Tricked, ~.p. blazoned. Ham. 11. 2. 
+Tricking, sb. ornament. Merry Wives, 1v. 4. 
+Tricksy, adj. elegantly quaint. Temp. v. 1. 
+Triple, adj. third. A. & C. 1 1. 
+Trojan, sb, a cant word for a thief. 1 H. IV. 
+II 
+
+
+Trol-my-dames, sb. Fr. trou-madame; the name 
+of a game; also called pigeon-holes. Wint. 
+Tale, iv. 2. 
+
+Troth-plight, adj, betrothed. H. V. 1. 1. 
+
+Trow, v.t. to trust, think. H. VIII. x. 1. 
+
+True, adj. honest. Cym. 11. 3. 
+
+Trundle-tail, sb. a long-tailed dog. Lear, 111. 6. 
+
+Tucker sariaiees sb, a flourish on the trumpet. 
+
+«MV. IV. 028 
+
+Tundish, sb. a funnel. M. for M, 111. 2. 
+
+Turlygood, sb. a name adopted by bedlam-beg- 
+gars. Lear,.11. 3. 
+
+Turn, v.t. to modulate. As you Like iting: 
+
+Twangling, pr.p. twanging. Temp. rt. 2. 
+
+Twiggen, adj. made of twigs, wicker. Oth. 11, 
+
+
+Ze 
+Twilled, ~.p. Temp. 111. 3. A doubtful word. 
+Twink, sb. a twinkling. Temp. 111. 3. 
+Twire, v.t. to peep, twinkle. Son. 28, 
+
+
+Umbered, .p. stained, dark, as with umber. 
+H. V. tv. Chorus. 
+Unaneled, /.p. without extreme unction. Ham. 
+
+
+R.. TI. ave 
+Cor. 111, 2. ei 
+
+
+rss 
+Unavoided, adj. unavoidable. 
+Unbarbed, $.p. untrimmed. 
+Unbated, ».p. unblunted. Ham. 1v. 7. 
+Unbolt, v.t. to disclose. Tim. 1. 1. 
+Unbolted, .p. unsifted. unrefined. Tear, 11, 2, 
+Unbreathed, p.p. unpractised. M. N’s Dr. v. t 
+Uncane, v.t. to throw off the hounds. Merry 
+Wives, 111. 3. 
+Uncharged, /.6. undefended, applied to the 
+gates of a city. Tim. v. 4. 
+Unclew, v.t. to unravel, undo. Tim. 1. 1. 
+Uncoined, ?.p. unalloyed, unfeigned. H. V. ¥. 7, 
+
+
+2H, IV. 1v.waeeos 
+
+
+GLOSSARY 
+
+
+Undergo, v.t. to undertake. Tim. 111. 5. 
+Undertaker, sb. one who takes up another’s 
+quarrel. Tw. N. 111. 4. 
+Under-wrought, p.p. undermined. John, 11. 1. 
+- Uneath, adv. hardly. 2 H. VI. 111. 4. 
+Unexpressive, adj. As you Like 
+at Itt. 25 
+Unfair, v.t. to deprive of beauty. Son. 5. 
+Unhappily, adv. censoriously. H. VIII. 1. 4. 
+Unhappy, adj. mischievous. All’s Well, Iv. 5. 
+Unhatched, p.p. undisclosed. Oth. 111. 4. 
+Unhouseled, p.p. without receiving the sacra- 
+ment. Ham. Tor 5- 
+Unimproved, ~.p. unreproved. Ham. 1. 1. 
+Union, sb. a pearl. Ham. v. 2. 
+Unjust, adj. dishonest. 1 H. IV. tv. 2 
+Unkind, adj. unnatural. Lear, 11. 4. 
+Unlived, adj. bereft of life. Lucr. 1754. 
+Migenned, p.p. untamed, applied to a hawk. 
+TI,2; 
+Unowed, $.. unowned. John, tv. 3. 
+Unpregnant, adj. stupid. .M. for M. ms 4: 
+Unproper, adj, common to all. Oth. 1. 
+Unquestionable, adj. not inquisitive. yt you 
+
+
+Like it, 111. 2. 
+Unready, adj. undressed. 1 H. VI. 11. 1. 
+
+
+inexpressible. 
+
+
+Unrespective, adj. inconsiderate. R. III. 1v. 2. 
+Unsisting, adj. unresting. M. for M. iv. 2. 
+Unstanched, p.p. incontinent. Temp. 1. 1. 
+
+
+Untempering, adj. unsoftening. H. V. v. 2. 
+Untented, adj. unsearchable. Lear, 1. 4. 
+Untraded, adj. unused, uncommon. T. & Cr. 
+
+
+EVA5) 
+
+Weinmed. p.p. spoiled of grace or ornament. 
+Son. 18. 
+
+Untrue, sb. untruth. 
+
+Unvalued, adj. invaluable. R. III. 1. 4. 
+
+Upspring reel, sb. a boisterous dance. Ham. 1. 4. 
+
+Urchin, sb. the hedge-hog. Bee Yei2s 
+
+Usance, sb. usury. M. of V. 1. 3. 
+
+Use, sb. interest. M. for M. 1. 1. 
+
+Utis, sb. riotous merriment, which accompanied 
+the eighth day of a festival. 2H. IV. 11. 4. 
+
+ig v.t. to expel, put forth. Much Ado, v. 
+
+
+Son. 113. 
+
+
+Meese: sb. extremity. Mac. 111, 1; Cym. 
+
+
+m1. 1 
+
+
+Vade, v.t. to fade. P. P. 131, 170. 
+
+Vail, v.t. to lower. M. for M. v. 1. 
+
+Vailing, pr.p. lowering. M. of V. 1. a8 
+
+Vainness, sb. vanity. H. V. v. Chorus. 
+
+WValanced, p.p. adorned with a_ valance or 
+fringe; applied to the beard. aos 11s, 2. 
+
+Validity, sb. value. All’s Well, 
+
+Vantage, sb: advantage. Two Gout. I. Xe 
+
+Vantbrace, sb. armor for the front of the arm, 
+he es Oren Oak 
+
+Varlet, sb. a servant, valet. T. & Cr. 1.1. 
+
+Vast, sb. properly a waste-place, metaphorically, 
+the dead of night. Temp. 1. 2. A gulf. 
+Wint. Tale, 1. 1. 
+
+Vastidity, sb. immensity. M. for M. 11. 1. 
+
+Vastly, adv. like a waste. Luc. 1740. 
+
+Vasty, adj. vast, waste. 1 H. IV. m1. 1. 
+
+Vaunt, sb. the van, that which precedes. T. & 
+Cr, Prol. 
+
+Vaunt-conriers, sb. forerunners. Lear, III. 2. 
+
+Vaward, sb. the van, vanguard, advanced guard 
+of an army. H. Vv; Iv. 3. Hence, meta- 
+Biercally, the first of anything. M. N’s Dr. 
+
+Decives, sb. herbs. Per. 111. 2. 
+
+Velure, sb. velvet. Tam. of S. 111. 2. 
+
+Velvet-guards, sb. literally, velvet trimmings; 
+applied metaphorically to the citizens whe 
+wore them. 1 Hen. IV. 111. 1. 
+
+
+1419 
+
+
+Venew, sb. a bout in fencing, metaphorically ap- 
+pace i repartee and sallies of wit. L’s L’s 
+
+
+Veniey, sb. a bout at fencing. Merry Wives, 1. 
+
+
+Venge, v.t. to avenge. H. V. 1. 2. 
+
+Ventages, sb. holes in a flute or flageolet. 
+Ham. 111. 2. 
+Verbal, adj. wordy. 
+
+Very, adj. true, real. Two Gent. 111. 1. 
+
+Via, int. off with you! Merry Wine: IIs 2: 
+
+Vice, v.t. to screw. Wint. Tale, 1. 2. 
+
+Vice, sb. the buffoon in the old morality plays, 
+Ham. 11. 
+
+
+Cym. It. 3. 
+
+
+Vie, v.i. to challenge; a term at cards. A. & 
+e v. A To play as for a wager. Tam. of 
+II. 
+
+
+View oe ‘adj. invisible. M. for M. 111. 1. 
+
+Villain, sb.alowborn man, As you ee ryt & 
+
+Vinewed, p.p. mouldy. T. & Cr. 11. 1. 
+
+Viol-de-gamboys, sb. a bass viol. Tw. N. 1. 3. 
+
+Virginalling, br.p. playing as on the virginals, 
+a kind of a spinet. Wint. Tale, 1. 2, 
+
+Virtue, sb. the essential excellence. Temp. 1. 
+20 Valoriear, 'V.: 3. 
+
+Virtuous, adj. excellent. M. N’s Dr. 111. 2. 
+Endowed with virtues. As you Like it, 1. 3. 
+
+Vizament, sb. advisement. Merry Wives, 1. 1. 
+
+Voluble, adj. fickle. Oth. 11. 1. 
+
+Voluntary, sb. volunteer. John, 11. 1. 
+
+Votarist, sb. votary, one who has taken a vow. 
+M. for M. 1 fs 
+
+Vulgar, sb. the common people. L’s L’s L. 1. 2. 
+
+Vulgar, adj. common. John, 11, 2. 
+
+Vulgarly, adv. publicly. M. for M, v. 1. 
+
+
+Waft, v.t. to wave, Lape Ham. 1. 4. Teo 
+turn. Wint. Tale, 
+Waftage, sb. passage. tr & Cry sn 
+
+
+Wafture, sb. waving, beckoning. J. C. rr. 1. 
+
+
+Wage, v.t. to reward as with wages. Cor. v. 5 
+
+Wailful, adj. lamentable. Two Gent. 111. 2. 
+
+Waist, sb. the middle of a ship. Temp. 1. 2. 
+
+Wannion, ‘With a wannion’ = ‘with a venge- 
+ance? Per: trie 
+
+Meir p.p. withered, overworn. Tim. tv. 
+
+Ward, aie guard. Temp. 1. 2. Prison. 2 H. 
+
+
+Warder, as a large pear used for baking. 
+Wint. Tale, tv. 2. 
+
+
+Warder, sb, truncheon. R. IT. 1. ce 
+
+Warn, v.t. to summon. R. III. 1 3. 
+
+Wassail, sb. a drinking bout. A. & C, % 4. 
+Festivity. Hani. 37-4. 
+
+Wat, a familiar word ae ahare. V. & A. 697. 
+
+Watch, sb. a watch light. R. ITT. v. 3. 
+
+Watch, v.t. to tame by keeping constantly 
+awake. Oth, III. 3. 
+
+Water-gall, sb. a secondary rainbow. Lucr. 
+1588. 
+
+Water-work, sb. painting in distemper. 2 H. 
+TW! 
+
+
+Water- rug, sb. a kind of dog. Mac. 111. 1. 
+Wax, v.t. to grow. H. V. dy : 
+Waxen, v.t. perhaps, to iscoualts M. N’s Dr. 
+
+
+II, 
+Wealth, sb. weal, advantage. M. of V. v. 1. 
+Wear, sb. fashion. As you Like it, 11. 7. 
+Weather-fend, v.t, to defend from the weather. 
+Temp. v. 1. 
+Web ana pin, sb. the cataract in the eye. Lear, 
+111. 4; Wint. Tale, 1. 2 
+Wee, adj. small, tiny. Merry Wives 4a 
+Weed, sb. garment. Tw. N. v. 
+Wee, v.t. to think. 1H. VI. 11. 
+Weet, v.t. to wit, know. A. & Cn 1. 
+
+
+é 
+
+
+1420 
+
+
+GLOSSARY 
+
+
+Weigh out, v.t. to outweigh. 
+
+Welkin, sb. the sky. Merry Wives, 1. 3. 
+
+Welkin, adj. sky-blue. Wint. Tale, 1. 2. 
+
+Well-liking, adj. in good condition. L’s L’s L. 
+2 
+
+
+Ve lek 
+
+Well said, int. well done! 2 H. IV. 111. 2. 
+
+Wend, v.z. to go. M. for M. iv. 3. 
+
+Wesand, sb. the wind-pipe. Temp. 111. 2. 
+
+Whelk, sb. a weal. H. V. 111. 6. 
+
+Whelked, ~.p. marked with whelks or protuber- 
+ances.. Lear, tv: «6: 
+
+When as, adv. when. Son. 4o. 
+
+When, an exclamation of impatience. 
+OfeSsr IVs) 1. 
+
+Where, adv. whereas. 
+
+
+Tam. 
+2. EEN ViaeetIa 25 Lear, 
+
+
+Lee, 
+
+Where, sb. a place. Lear, 1. 1. 
+
+Whiffler, sb. an officer who clears the way in 
+processions. H. V. v. Chorus. 
+
+While-ere, adv. a little while ago. Temp. 111. 2. 
+
+Whiles, adv. until. Tw. N. Iv. 3. 
+
+Whip-stock, sb. handle of a whip. Tw. N. 11. 3. 
+
+Whist, adj. hushed, silent. Temp. 1. 2. 
+
+White, sb. the centre of an archery butt. 
+Oe Sey anew 
+
+Whiting-time, sb. bleaching time. Merry Wives, 
+Tiie3: 
+
+Whitster, sb. bleacher. 
+
+Whiteley, adj. pale-faced. 
+doubtful word. 
+
+Whittle, sb. a clasp knife. Tim. v. 3. 
+
+Whoo-bub, sb. hubbub. Wint. Tale, Iv. 4. 
+
+Whoop, v.t. to cry out with astonishment. H. 
+V.1u.2. Comp. As you Like it, 111. 2. 
+
+Wicked, adj. noisome, baneful. Temp. 1. 2. 
+
+Widow, v.t. to give a jointure to. M. for M. 
+
+
+Tam. 
+
+
+Merry Wives, 111. 3. 
+sii’ s Diisrin thie A 
+
+
+ane 5 
+Widowhood, sb. widow’s jointure. _Tam. of S. 
+
+
+UT Ah 
+Wight, sb. person. Oth. 11. 1. 
+Wild, sb. weald. 1 H. IV. 11. 1. 
+
+
+Wilderness, sb. wildness. M. for M. 111. 1. 
+
+Wimpled, p.p. veiled, hooded. L’s L’s L. 111. 1. 
+
+Window-bars, sb. lattice-work across a woman’s 
+stomacher. Tim. Iv. 3. 
+
+Windring, pr.p. winding. Temp. 111. 3. 
+
+Winter-ground, v.t. to protect (a plant) from 
+frost.) Cym. iV. 2. 
+
+Wis, in the compound ‘I wis,’ certainly. R. 
+ANG Ei abe 
+
+Wish, v.t. to commend. Tam. of S. 1. 1. 
+
+Wistly, adv. wistfully. R. II. v. 4. 
+
+Wit, sb. knowledge, wisdom. M. of V. 11. 1; 
+Pee LIE) Bs 
+
+Without, prep. beyond. M. N’s Dr. iv. 1. 
+
+
+H. VIII. 111. 1. | Wits, five, the five senses. 
+
+
+i Much Ado, 1. 1. 
+
+Wittol, sb. a contented cuckold. Merry Wives, 
+Ill 2. 
+
+Witty, adj. intelligent. 3 H. VI. x. 2. 
+
+Woman-tired, adj. hen-pecked. Wint. Tale, 11. 3. 
+
+Wondered, p.p. marvellously gifted. Temp. tv. 
+
+
+Wood, adj. mad. Two Gent. rt. 3. 
+
+Woodcock, sb. a simpleton. Tam. of S. x, 2. 
+
+Woodman, sb. a forester, huntsman. Cym. 111. 
+6. A cant term for a wencher. M. for M. 
+
+
+IV. 3. 
+
+Woolward, adj. shirtless. L’s L’s L. v. 2, 
+
+Word, v.t. to flatter or put off with words, A. & 
+C. v. 2. To repeat the words of a song. 
+Cym. Iv. 2. 
+
+World. ‘To go to the world’ is to get mar- 
+ried. Much Ado, 11. 1. So ‘a woman of the 
+world’ is a married woman. As you Like it, 
+Ven 3 
+
+Worm, sb. a serpent. M. for M. m1. 1. 
+
+Worser, adj. worse. Temp. iv. 1. 
+
+Worship, v.t. to honor. H. V. 1 2, 
+
+Worth, sb. wealth, fortune. Tw. N. ur. 3. 
+
+Worts, sb. cabbages. Merry Wives, . 1. 
+
+Wot, v.t. to know. Two Gent. Iv. 4. 
+
+Wound, p.p. twisted about. Temp. 1. 2. 
+
+Wreak, sb. vengeance. Cor, Iv. 5. 
+
+Wreak, v.t. to avenge. T. A: Iv. 3. 
+
+Wreakful, adj. revengeful, avenging. Tim. tv. 3. 
+
+Wrest, sb. an instrument used for tuning a 
+harp. | Ts 1& Crier 3; 
+
+Writ, sb. gospel, truth. Per. 11. (Gower). 
+
+Writhled, p.p. shrivelled. 1 H. VI. 11. 3. 
+
+Wroth, sb. calamity, misfortune. M. of V. 11. 
+9. 
+
+Wry, v.i. to swerve. Cym. v. 1. 
+
+Wrung, p.p. twisted, strained. 1 H. IV. 1. 1, 
+
+
+Yare, adj. ready. Used as an int., ‘be’ being 
+understood. Temp. r. 1. 
+
+Yarely, adv. readily. Temp. 1, 1. 
+
+Y-clad, £.p. clad. 2 H. VI. x. 1. 
+
+Y-cleped, ~.p. called, named. L’s L’s L. v. 2. 
+
+Yearn, v.t. to grieve, vex. Merry Wives, 1rI. 
+BAR ADRs : 
+
+Yellowness, sb. jealousy. Merry Wives, 1. 3. 
+
+Yellows, sb. a disease of horses. Tam. of S, 
+III. 2. 
+
+Yeoman, sb. a sheriff’s officer. 2 H. IV. 11. 1, 
+
+Yield, v.t. to reward. A. & C. 1v. 2. To re 
+port. “AW & 'Cy 11/5. 
+
+Yond, adj. and adv. yonder. Temp. 1. 2. 
+
+
+Zany, sb. a clown, gull. L’s L’s L. v. 2. 
+
+
+So ee i ome 
+
+
+mts oe 
+
+
+on 
+
+
+= 
+
+
diff --git a/year4/semester2/CT414/assignments/assignment2/data/structure_and_interpretation_of_computer_programs.txt b/year4/semester2/CT414/assignments/assignment2/data/structure_and_interpretation_of_computer_programs.txt
new file mode 100644
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--- /dev/null
+++ b/year4/semester2/CT414/assignments/assignment2/data/structure_and_interpretation_of_computer_programs.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,40994 @@
+Structure and Interpretation 
+of Computer Programs 
+
+
+
+
+SECOND EDITION 
+
+Unofficial Texinfo Format 
+2.andresraba5.3 
+
+Harold Abelson and 
+Gerald Jay Sussman 
+with Julie Sussman, 
+foreword by Alan J. Perlis 
+
+
+
+©1996 by The Massachusetts Institute of Technology 
+
+Structure and Interpretation of Computer Programs, 
+second edition 
+
+Harold Abelson and Gerald Jay Sussman 
+with Julie Sussman, foreword by Alan J. Perlis 
+
+e®@ 
+
+This work is licensed under a Creative Commons 
+
+Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License 
+
+(cc by-sa 3.0). Based on a work at mitpress.mit.edu. 
+
+The mit Press 
+Cambridge, Massachusetts 
+London, England 
+
+McGraw-Hill Book Company 
+New York, St. Louis, San Francisco, 
+Montreal, Toronto 
+
+Unofficial Texinfo Format 2.andresraba5.3 (April 6, 2014), 
+based on 2.neilvandyke4 (January 10, 2007). 
+
+
+
+Contents 
+
+
+
+Unofficial Texinfo Format ix 
+
+Dedication xii 
+
+Foreword xiii 
+
+Preface to the Second Edition xix 
+
+Preface to the First Edition xxi 
+
+Acknowledgments xxv 
+
+1 Building Abstractions with Procedures 1 
+
+1.1 The Elements of Programming 6 
+
+1.1.1 Expressions 7 
+
+1.1.2 Naming and the Environment 10 
+
+1.1.3 Evaluating Combinations 12 
+
+1.1.4 Compound Procedures 15 
+
+1.1.5 The Substitution Model for Procedure Application 18 
+
+1.1.6 Conditional Expressions and Predicates .... 22 
+
+1.1.7 Example: Square Roots by Newton's Method . . 28 
+
+iii 
+
+
+
+1.1.8 Procedures as Black-Box Abstractions 33 
+
+1.2 Procedures and the Processes They Generate 40 
+
+1.2.1 Linear Recursion and Iteration 41 
+
+1.2.2 Tree Recursion 47 
+
+1.2.3 Orders of Growth 54 
+
+1.2.4 Exponentiation 57 
+
+1.2.5 Greatest Common Divisors 62 
+
+1.2.6 Example: Testing for Primality 65 
+
+1.3 Formulating Abstractions 
+
+with Higher-Order Procedures 74 
+
+1.3.1 Procedures as Arguments 76 
+
+1.3.2 Constructing Procedures Using Lambda 83 
+
+1.3.3 Procedures as General Methods 89 
+
+1.3.4 Procedures as Returned Values 97 
+
+2 Building Abstractions with Data 107 
+
+2.1 Introduction to Data Abstraction 112 
+
+2.1.1 Example: Arithmetic Operations 
+
+for Rational Numbers 113 
+
+2.1.2 Abstraction Barriers 118 
+
+2.1.3 What Is Meant by Data? 122 
+
+2.1.4 Extended Exercise: Interval Arithmetic 126 
+
+2.2 Hierarchical Data and the Closure Property 132 
+
+2.2.1 Representing Sequences 134 
+
+2.2.2 Hierarchical Structures 147 
+
+2.2.3 Sequences as Conventional Interfaces 154 
+
+2.2.4 Example: A Picture Language 172 
+
+2.3 Symbolic Data 192 
+
+2.3.1 Quotation 192 
+
+iv 
+
+
+
+2.3.2 Example: Symbolic Differentiation 197 
+
+2.3.3 Example: Representing Sets 205 
+
+2.3.4 Example: Huffman Encoding Trees 218 
+
+2.4 Multiple Representations for Abstract Data 229 
+
+2.4.1 Representations for Complex Numbers 232 
+
+2.4.2 Tagged data 237 
+
+2.4.3 Data-Directed Programming and Additivity . . 242 
+
+2.5 Systems with Generic Operations 254 
+
+2.5.1 Generic Arithmetic Operations 255 
+
+2.5.2 Combining Data of Different Types 262 
+
+2.5.3 Example: Symbolic Algebra 274 
+
+3 Modularity, Objects, and State 294 
+
+3.1 Assignment and Local State 296 
+
+3.1.1 Local State Variables 297 
+
+3.1.2 The Benefits of Introducing Assignment .... 305 
+
+3.1.3 The Costs of Introducing Assignment 311 
+
+3.2 The Environment Model of Evaluation 320 
+
+3.2.1 The Rules for Evaluation 322 
+
+3.2.2 Applying Simple Procedures 327 
+
+3.2.3 Frames as the Repository of Local State .... 330 
+
+3.2.4 Internal Definitions 337 
+
+3.3 Modeling with Mutable Data 341 
+
+3.3.1 Mutable List Structure 342 
+
+3.3.2 Representing Queues 353 
+
+3.3.3 Representing Tables 360 
+
+3.3.4 A Simulator for Digital Circuits 369 
+
+3.3.5 Propagation of Constraints 386 
+
+3.4 Concurrency: Time Is of the Essence 401 
+
+
+
+v 
+
+
+
+3.4.1 The Nature of Time in Concurrent Systems . . 403 
+
+3.4.2 Mechanisms for Controlling Concurrency . . . 410 
+3.5 Streams 428 
+
+3.5.1 Streams Are Delayed Lists 430 
+
+3.5.2 Infinite Streams 441 
+
+3.5.3 Exploiting the Stream Paradigm 453 
+
+3.5.4 Streams and Delayed Evaluation 470 
+
+3.5.5 Modularity of Functional Programs 
+
+and Modularity of Objects 479 
+
+4 Metalinguistic Abstraction 487 
+
+4.1 The Metacircular Evaluator 492 
+
+4.1.1 The Core of the Evaluator 495 
+
+4.1.2 Representing Expressions 501 
+
+4.1.3 Evaluator Data Structures 512 
+
+4.1.4 Running the Evaluator as a Program 518 
+
+4.1.5 Data as Programs 522 
+
+4.1.6 Internal Definitions 526 
+
+4.1.7 Separating Syntactic Analysis from Execution . 534 
+
+4.2 Variations on a Scheme — Lazy Evaluation 541 
+
+4.2.1 Normal Order and Applicative Order 542 
+
+4.2.2 An Interpreter with Lazy Evaluation 544 
+
+4.2.3 Streams as Lazy Lists 555 
+
+4.3 Variations on a Scheme — Nondeterministic Computing 559 
+
+4.3.1 Amb and Search 561 
+
+4.3.2 Examples of Nondeterministic Programs .... 567 
+
+4.3.3 Implementing the Amb Evaluator 578 
+
+4.4 Logic Programming 594 
+
+4.4.1 Deductive Information Retrieval 599 
+
+
+
+vi 
+
+
+
+4.4.2 How the Query System Works 615 
+
+4.4.3 Is Logic Programming Mathematical Logic? . . 627 
+
+4.4.4 Implementing the Query System 635 
+
+4.4.4.1 The Driver Loop and Instantiation . . 636 
+
+4.4.4.2 IheEvaluator 638 
+
+4.4.4.3 Finding Assertions 
+
+by Pattern Matching 642 
+
+4.4.4.4 Rules and Unification 645 
+
+4.4.4.5 Maintaining the Data Base 651 
+
+4.4.4.6 Stream Operations 654 
+
+4.4.4.7 Query Syntax Procedures 656 
+
+4.4.4.8 Frames and Bindings 659 
+
+5 Computing with Register Machines 666 
+
+5.1 Designing Register Machines 668 
+
+5.1.1 A Language for Describing Register Machines . 672 
+
+5.1.2 Abstraction in Machine Design 678 
+
+5.1.3 Subroutines 681 
+
+5.1.4 Using a Stack to Implement Recursion 686 
+
+5.1.5 Instruction Summary 695 
+
+5.2 A Register-Machine Simulator 696 
+
+5.2.1 The Machine Model 698 
+
+5.2.2 The Assembler 704 
+
+5.2.3 Generating Execution Procedures 
+
+for Instructions 708 
+
+5.2.4 Monitoring Machine Performance 718 
+
+5.3 Storage Allocation and Garbage Collection 723 
+
+5.3.1 Memory as Vectors 724 
+
+5.3.2 Maintaining the Illusion of Infinite Memory . . 731 
+
+vii 
+
+
+
+5.4 The Explicit- Control Evaluator 741 
+
+5.4.1 The Core of the Explicit-Control Evaluator . . . 743 
+
+5.4.2 Sequence Evaluation and Tail Recursion .... 751 
+
+5.4.3 Conditionals, Assignments, and Definitions . . 756 
+
+5.4.4 Running the Evaluator 759 
+
+5.5 Compilation 767 
+
+5.5.1 Structure of the Compiler 772 
+
+5.5.2 Compiling Expressions 779 
+
+5.5.3 Compiling Combinations 788 
+
+5.5.4 Combining Instruction Sequences 797 
+
+5.5.5 An Example of Compiled Code 802 
+
+5.5.6 Lexical Addressing 817 
+
+5.5.7 Interfacing Compiled Code to the Evaluator . . 823 
+
+References 834 
+
+List of Exercises 844 
+
+List of Figures 846 
+
+Index 848 
+
+Colophon 855 
+
+
+
+viii 
+
+
+
+Unofficial Texinfo Format 
+
+
+
+This is the second edition sicp book, from Unofficial Texinfo Format. 
+
+You are probably reading it in an Info hypertext browser, such as the 
+Info mode of Emacs. You might alternatively be reading it T£X-formatted 
+on your screen or printer, though that would be silly. And, if printed, 
+expensive. 
+
+The freely- distributed official HTML-and-GiF format was first con- 
+verted personally to Unofficial Texinfo Format (utf) version 1 by Lytha 
+Ayth during a long Emacs lovefest weekend in April, 2001. 
+
+The utf is easier to search than the html format. It is also much 
+more accessible to people running on modest computers, such as do- 
+nated '386-based PCs. A 386 can, in theory, run Linux, Emacs, and a 
+Scheme interpreter simultaneously, but most 386s probably can't also 
+run both Netscape and the necessary X Window System without pre- 
+maturely introducing budding young underfunded hackers to the con- 
+cept of thrashing. UTF can also fit uncompressed on a 1.44mb floppy 
+diskette, which may come in handy for installing UTF on PCs that do 
+not have Internet or LAN access. 
+
+The Texinfo conversion has been a straight transliteration, to the 
+extent possible. Like the TEX-to-HTML conversion, this was not without 
+some introduction of breakage. In the case of Unofficial Texinfo Format, 
+
+
+
+ix 
+
+
+
+figures have suffered an amateurish resurrection of the lost art of ascii. 
+Also, it's quite possible that some errors of ambiguity were introduced 
+during the conversion of some of the copious superscripts ('"') and sub- 
+scripts ('_'). Divining which has been left as an exercise to the reader. 
+But at least we don't put our brave astronauts at risk by encoding the 
+greater-than-or-equal symbol as <u>&gt ; </u>. 
+
+If you modify sicp . texi to correct errors or improve the ascii art, 
+then update the @set utf version utf version line to reflect your delta. 
+For example, if you started with Lytha's version 1 , and your name is 
+Bob, then you could name your successive versions 1 . bob1 , 1 . bob2, . . . 
+1 .bobn. Also update utfversiondate. If you want to distribute your 
+version on the Web, then embedding the string "sicp. texi" somewhere 
+in the file or Web page will make it easier for people to find with Web 
+search engines. 
+
+It is believed that the Unofficial Texinfo Format is in keeping with 
+the spirit of the graciously freely-distributed html version. But you 
+never know when someone's armada of lawyers might need something 
+to do, and get their shorts all in a knot over some benign little thing, 
+so think twice before you use your full name or distribute Info, dvi, 
+PostScript, or pdf formats that might embed your account or machine 
+name. 
+
+Peath, Lytha Ayth 
+
+Addendum: See also the sicp video lectures by Abelson and Sussman: 
+at mit csail or MIT ocw. 
+
+Second Addendum: Above is the original introduction to the utf from 
+2001. Ten years later, utf has been transformed: mathematical symbols 
+and formulas are properly typeset, and figures drawn in vector graph- 
+ics. The original text formulas and ascii art figures are still there in 
+
+
+
+x 
+
+
+
+the Texinfo source, but will display only when compiled to Info output. 
+At the dawn of e-book readers and tablets, reading a pdf on screen is 
+officially not silly anymore. Enjoy! 
+
+A.R, May, 2011 
+
+
+
+xi 
+
+
+
+Dedication 
+
+
+
+
+his book is dedicated, in respect and admiration, to the spirit that 
+lives in the computer. 
+
+
+
+"I think that it's extraordinarily important that we in com- 
+puter science keep fun in computing. When it started out, 
+it was an awful lot of fun. Of course, the paying customers 
+got shafted every now and then, and after a while we began 
+to take their complaints seriously. We began to feel as if we 
+really were responsible for the successful, error-free perfect 
+use of these machines. I don't think we are. I think we're 
+responsible for stretching them, setting them off in new di- 
+rections, and keeping fun in the house. I hope the field of 
+computer science never loses its sense of fun. Above all, I 
+hope we don't become missionaries. Don't feel as if you're 
+Bible salesmen. The world has too many of those already. 
+What you know about computing other people will learn. 
+Don't feel as if the key to successful computing is only in 
+your hands. What's in your hands, I think and hope, is in- 
+telligence: the ability to see the machine as more than when 
+you were first led up to it, that you can make it more." 
+
+-Alan J. Perlis (April 1, 1922 - February 7, 1990) 
+
+
+
+xii 
+
+
+
+Foreword 
+
+
+
+Educators, generals, dieticians, psychologists, and parents pro- 
+gram. Armies, students, and some societies are programmed. An 
+assault on large problems employs a succession of programs, most of 
+which spring into existence en route. These programs are rife with is- 
+sues that appear to be particular to the problem at hand. To appreciate 
+programming as an intellectual activity in its own right you must turn to 
+computer programming; you must read and write computer programs- 
+many of them. It doesn't matter much what the programs are about or 
+what applications they serve. What does matter is how well they per- 
+form and how smoothly they fit with other programs in the creation 
+of still greater programs. The programmer must seek both perfection 
+of part and adequacy of collection. In this book the use of "program" is 
+focused on the creation, execution, and study of programs written in a 
+dialect of Lisp for execution on a digital computer. Using Lisp we re- 
+strict or limit not what we may program, but only the notation for our 
+program descriptions. 
+
+Our traffic with the subject matter of this book involves us with 
+three foci of phenomena: the human mind, collections of computer pro- 
+grams, and the computer. Every computer program is a model, hatched 
+in the mind, of a real or mental process. These processes, arising from 
+
+
+
+xiii 
+
+
+
+human experience and thought, are huge in number, intricate in de- 
+tail, and at any time only partially understood. They are modeled to our 
+permanent satisfaction rarely by our computer programs. Thus even 
+though our programs are carefully handcrafted discrete collections of 
+symbols, mosaics of interlocking functions, they continually evolve: we 
+change them as our perception of the model deepens, enlarges, gen- 
+eralizes until the model ultimately attains a metastable place within 
+still another model with which we struggle. The source of the exhilara- 
+tion associated with computer programming is the continual unfolding 
+within the mind and on the computer of mechanisms expressed as pro- 
+grams and the explosion of perception they generate. If art interprets 
+our dreams, the computer executes them in the guise of programs! 
+
+For all its power, the computer is a harsh taskmaster. Its programs 
+must be correct, and what we wish to say must be said accurately in ev- 
+ery detail. As in every other symbolic activity, we become convinced of 
+program truth through argument. Lisp itself can be assigned a seman- 
+tics (another model, by the way), and if a program's function can be 
+specified, say, in the predicate calculus, the proof methods of logic can 
+be used to make an acceptable correctness argument. Unfortunately, as 
+programs get large and complicated, as they almost always do, the ade- 
+quacy, consistency, and correctness of the specifications themselves be- 
+come open to doubt, so that complete formal arguments of correctness 
+seldom accompany large programs. Since large programs grow from 
+small ones, it is crucial that we develop an arsenal of standard program 
+structures of whose correctness we have become sure— we call them 
+idioms— and learn to combine them into larger structures using orga- 
+nizational techniques of proven value. These techniques are treated at 
+length in this book, and understanding them is essential to participation 
+in the Promethean enterprise called programming. More than anything 
+
+
+
+xiv 
+
+
+
+else, the uncovering and mastery of powerful organizational techniques 
+accelerates our ability to create large, significant programs. Conversely, 
+since writing large programs is very taxing, we are stimulated to invent 
+new methods of reducing the mass of function and detail to be fitted 
+into large programs. 
+
+Unlike programs, computers must obey the laws of physics. If they 
+wish to perform rapidly— a few nanoseconds per state change— they 
+must transmit electrons only small distances (at most 1 i feet). The heat 
+generated by the huge number of devices so concentrated in space has to 
+be removed. An exquisite engineering art has been developed balancing 
+between multiplicity of function and density of devices. In any event, 
+hardware always operates at a level more primitive than that at which 
+we care to program. The processes that transform our Lisp programs 
+to "machine" programs are themselves abstract models which we pro- 
+gram. Their study and creation give a great deal of insight into the or- 
+ganizational programs associated with programming arbitrary models. 
+Of course the computer itself can be so modeled. Think of it: the behav- 
+ior of the smallest physical switching element is modeled by quantum 
+mechanics described by differential equations whose detailed behavior 
+is captured by numerical approximations represented in computer pro- 
+grams executing on computers composed of . . .! 
+
+It is not merely a matter of tactical convenience to separately iden- 
+tify the three foci. Even though, as they say, it's all in the head, this 
+logical separation induces an acceleration of symbolic traffic between 
+these foci whose richness, vitality, and potential is exceeded in human 
+experience only by the evolution of life itself. At best, relationships be- 
+tween the foci are metastable. The computers are never large enough or 
+fast enough. Each breakthrough in hardware technology leads to more 
+massive programming enterprises, new organizational principles, and 
+
+
+
+xv 
+
+
+
+an enrichment of abstract models. Every reader should ask himself pe- 
+riodically "Toward what end, toward what end?"— but do not ask it too 
+often lest you pass up the fun of programming for the constipation of 
+bittersweet philosophy. 
+
+Among the programs we write, some (but never enough) perform a 
+precise mathematical function such as sorting or finding the maximum 
+of a sequence of numbers, determining primality, or finding the square 
+root. We call such programs algorithms, and a great deal is known of 
+their optimal behavior, particularly with respect to the two important 
+parameters of execution time and data storage requirements. A pro- 
+grammer should acquire good algorithms and idioms. Even though some 
+programs resist precise specifications, it is the responsibility of the pro- 
+grammer to estimate, and always to attempt to improve, their perfor- 
+mance. 
+
+Lisp is a survivor, having been in use for about a quarter of a cen- 
+tury. Among the active programming languages only Fortran has had 
+a longer life. Both languages have supported the programming needs 
+of important areas of application, Fortran for scientific and engineering 
+computation and Lisp for artificial intelligence. These two areas con- 
+tinue to be important, and their programmers are so devoted to these 
+two languages that Lisp and Fortran may well continue in active use for 
+at least another quarter- century. 
+
+Lisp changes. The Scheme dialect used in this text has evolved from 
+the original Lisp and differs from the latter in several important ways, 
+including static scoping for variable binding and permitting functions to 
+yield functions as values. In its semantic structure Scheme is as closely 
+akin to Algol 60 as to early Lisps. Algol 60, never to be an active language 
+again, lives on in the genes of Scheme and Pascal. It would be difficult 
+to find two languages that are the communicating coin of two more dif- 
+
+
+
+xvi 
+
+
+
+ferent cultures than those gathered around these two languages. Pas- 
+cal is for building pyramids— imposing, breathtaking, static structures 
+built by armies pushing heavy blocks into place. Lisp is for building 
+organisms— imposing, breathtaking, dynamic structures built by squads 
+fitting fluctuating myriads of simpler organisms into place. The organiz- 
+ing principles used are the same in both cases, except for one extraordi- 
+narily important difference: The discretionary exportable functionality 
+entrusted to the individual Lisp programmer is more than an order of 
+magnitude greater than that to be found within Pascal enterprises. Lisp 
+programs inflate libraries with functions whose utility transcends the 
+application that produced them. The list, Lisp's native data structure, is 
+largely responsible for such growth of utility. The simple structure and 
+natural applicability of lists are reflected in functions that are amazingly 
+nonidiosyncratic. In Pascal the plethora of declarable data structures in- 
+duces a specialization within functions that inhibits and penalizes ca- 
+sual cooperation. It is better to have 100 functions operate on one data 
+structure than to have 10 functions operate on 10 data structures. As a 
+result the pyramid must stand unchanged for a millennium; the organ- 
+ism must evolve or perish. 
+
+To illustrate this difference, compare the treatment of material and 
+exercises within this book with that in any first-course text using Pascal. 
+Do not labor under the illusion that this is a text digestible at mit only, 
+peculiar to the breed found there. It is precisely what a serious book on 
+programming Lisp must be, no matter who the student is or where it is 
+used. 
+
+Note that this is a text about programming, unlike most Lisp books, 
+which are used as a preparation for work in artificial intelligence. After 
+all, the critical programming concerns of software engineering and ar- 
+tificial intelligence tend to coalesce as the systems under investigation 
+
+
+
+xvii 
+
+
+
+become larger. This explains why there is such growing interest in Lisp 
+outside of artificial intelligence. 
+
+As one would expect from its goals, artificial intelligence research 
+generates many significant programming problems. In other program- 
+ming cultures this spate of problems spawns new languages. Indeed, in 
+any very large programming task a useful organizing principle is to con- 
+trol and isolate traffic within the task modules via the invention of lan- 
+guage. These languages tend to become less primitive as one approaches 
+the boundaries of the system where we humans interact most often. As 
+a result, such systems contain complex language-processing functions 
+replicated many times. Lisp has such a simple syntax and semantics that 
+parsing can be treated as an elementary task. Thus parsing technology 
+plays almost no role in Lisp programs, and the construction of language 
+processors is rarely an impediment to the rate of growth and change of 
+large Lisp systems. Finally, it is this very simplicity of syntax and se- 
+mantics that is responsible for the burden and freedom borne by all 
+Lisp programmers. No Lisp program of any size beyond a few lines can 
+be written without being saturated with discretionary functions. Invent 
+and fit; have fits and reinvent! We toast the Lisp programmer who pens 
+his thoughts within nests of parentheses. 
+
+Alan J. Perlis 
+
+New Haven, Connecticut 
+
+
+
+xviii 
+
+
+
+Preface to the Second Edition 
+
+
+
+Is it possible that software is not like anything else, that it 
+is meant to be discarded: that the whole point is to always 
+see it as a soap bubble? 
+
+—Alan J. Perlis 
+
+The material in this book has been the basis of mit's entry-level 
+computer science subject since 1980. We had been teaching this ma- 
+terial for four years when the first edition was published, and twelve 
+more years have elapsed until the appearance of this second edition. 
+We are pleased that our work has been widely adopted and incorpo- 
+rated into other texts. We have seen our students take the ideas and 
+programs in this book and build them in as the core of new computer 
+systems and languages. In literal realization of an ancient Talmudic pun, 
+our students have become our builders. We are lucky to have such ca- 
+pable students and such accomplished builders. 
+
+In preparing this edition, we have incorporated hundreds of clarifi- 
+cations suggested by our own teaching experience and the comments of 
+colleagues at mit and elsewhere. We have redesigned most of the ma- 
+jor programming systems in the book, including the generic-arithmetic 
+system, the interpreters, the register-machine simulator, and the com- 
+
+
+
+xix 
+
+
+
+piler; and we have rewritten all the program examples to ensure that 
+any Scheme implementation conforming to the ieee Scheme standard 
+(IEEE 1990) will be able to run the code. 
+
+This edition emphasizes several new themes. The most important of 
+these is the central role played by different approaches to dealing with 
+time in computational models: objects with state, concurrent program- 
+ming, functional programming, lazy evaluation, and nondeterministic 
+programming. We have included new sections on concurrency and non- 
+determinism, and we have tried to integrate this theme throughout the 
+book. 
+
+The first edition of the book closely followed the syllabus of our 
+mit one-semester subject. With all the new material in the second edi- 
+tion, it will not be possible to cover everything in a single semester, 
+so the instructor will have to pick and choose. In our own teaching, we 
+sometimes skip the section on logic programming (Section 4.4), we have 
+students use the register-machine simulator but we do not cover its im- 
+plementation (Section 5.2), and we give only a cursory overview of the 
+compiler (Section 5.5). Even so, this is still an intense course. Some in- 
+structors may wish to cover only the first three or four chapters, leaving 
+the other material for subsequent courses. 
+
+The World-Wide-Web site http://mitpress.mit.edu/sicp provides sup- 
+port for users of this book. This includes programs from the book, sam- 
+ple programming assignments, supplementary materials, and download- 
+able implementations of the Scheme dialect of Lisp. 
+
+
+
+xx 
+
+
+
+Preface to the First Edition 
+
+
+
+A computer is like a violin. You can imagine a novice try- 
+ing first a phonograph and then a violin. The latter, he says, 
+sounds terrible. That is the argument we have heard from 
+our humanists and most of our computer scientists. Com- 
+puter programs are good, they say, for particular purposes, 
+but they aren't flexible. Neither is a violin, or a typewriter, 
+until you learn how to use it. 
+
+—Marvin Minsky, "Why Programming Is a Good Medium 
+for Expressing Poorly-Understood and Sloppily-Formulated 
+Ideas" 
+
+he Structure and Interpretation of Computer Programs" 
+A is the entry-level subject in computer science at the Massachusetts 
+Institute of Technology. It is required of all students at mit who major 
+in electrical engineering or in computer science, as one-fourth of the 
+"common core curriculum," which also includes two subjects on circuits 
+and linear systems and a subject on the design of digital systems. We 
+have been involved in the development of this subject since 1978, and 
+we have taught this material in its present form since the fall of 1980 to 
+between 600 and 700 students each year. Most of these students have 
+
+
+
+xxi 
+
+
+
+had little or no prior formal training in computation, although many- 
+have played with computers a bit and a few have had extensive pro- 
+gramming or hardware-design experience. 
+
+Our design of this introductory computer-science subject reflects 
+two major concerns. First, we want to establish the idea that a com- 
+puter language is not just a way of getting a computer to perform oper- 
+ations but rather that it is a novel formal medium for expressing ideas 
+about methodology. Thus, programs must be written for people to read, 
+and only incidentally for machines to execute. Second, we believe that 
+the essential material to be addressed by a subject at this level is not 
+the syntax of particular programming-language constructs, nor clever 
+algorithms for computing particular functions efficiently, nor even the 
+mathematical analysis of algorithms and the foundations of computing, 
+but rather the techniques used to control the intellectual complexity of 
+large software systems. 
+
+Our goal is that students who complete this subject should have a 
+good feel for the elements of style and the aesthetics of programming. 
+They should have command of the major techniques for controlling 
+complexity in a large system. They should be capable of reading a 50- 
+page-long program, if it is written in an exemplary style. They should 
+know what not to read, and what they need not understand at any mo- 
+ment. They should feel secure about modifying a program, retaining the 
+spirit and style of the original author. 
+
+These skills are by no means unique to computer programming. The 
+techniques we teach and draw upon are common to all of engineering 
+design. We control complexity by building abstractions that hide details 
+when appropriate. We control complexity by establishing conventional 
+interfaces that enable us to construct systems by combining standard, 
+well-understood pieces in a "mix and match" way. We control complex- 
+
+
+
+xx ii 
+
+
+
+ity by establishing new languages for describing a design, each of which 
+emphasizes particular aspects of the design and deemphasizes others. 
+
+Underlying our approach to this subject is our conviction that "com- 
+puter science" is not a science and that its significance has little to do 
+with computers. The computer revolution is a revolution in the way we 
+think and in the way we express what we think. The essence of this 
+change is the emergence of what might best be called procedural epis- 
+temology— the study of the structure of knowledge from an imperative 
+point of view, as opposed to the more declarative point of view taken 
+by classical mathematical subjects. Mathematics provides a framework 
+for dealing precisely with notions of "what is." Computation provides a 
+framework for dealing precisely with notions of "how to." 
+
+In teaching our material we use a dialect of the programming lan- 
+guage Lisp. We never formally teach the language, because we don't 
+have to. We just use it, and students pick it up in a few days. This is 
+one great advantage of Lisp-like languages: They have very few ways 
+of forming compound expressions, and almost no syntactic structure. 
+All of the formal properties can be covered in an hour, like the rules 
+of chess. After a short time we forget about syntactic details of the lan- 
+guage (because there are none) and get on with the real issues— figuring 
+out what we want to compute, how we will decompose problems into 
+manageable parts, and how we will work on the parts. Another advan- 
+tage of Lisp is that it supports (but does not enforce) more of the large- 
+scale strategies for modular decomposition of programs than any other 
+language we know. We can make procedural and data abstractions, we 
+can use higher-order functions to capture common patterns of usage, 
+we can model local state using assignment and data mutation, we can 
+link parts of a program with streams and delayed evaluation, and we can 
+easily implement embedded languages. All of this is embedded in an in- 
+
+
+
+xxiii 
+
+
+
+teractive environment with excellent support for incremental program 
+design, construction, testing, and debugging. We thank all the genera- 
+tions of Lisp wizards, starting with John McCarthy, who have fashioned 
+a fine tool of unprecedented power and elegance. 
+
+Scheme, the dialect of Lisp that we use, is an attempt to bring to- 
+gether the power and elegance of Lisp and Algol. From Lisp we take the 
+metalinguistic power that derives from the simple syntax, the uniform 
+representation of programs as data objects, and the garbage-collected 
+heap- allocated data. From Algol we take lexical scoping and block struc- 
+ture, which are gifts from the pioneers of programming-language de- 
+sign who were on the Algol committee. We wish to cite John Reynolds 
+and Peter Landin for their insights into the relationship of Church's X- 
+calculus to the structure of programming languages. We also recognize 
+our debt to the mathematicians who scouted out this territory decades 
+before computers appeared on the scene. These pioneers include Alonzo 
+Church, Barkley Rosser, Stephen Kleene, and Haskell Curry. 
+
+
+
+xxiv 
+
+
+
+Acknowledgments 
+
+
+
+We would like to thank the many people who have helped us 
+develop this book and this curriculum. 
+Our subject is a clear intellectual descendant of "6.231," a wonderful 
+subject on programming linguistics and the }i-calculus taught at mit in 
+the late 1960s by Jack Wozencraft and Arthur Evans, Jr. 
+
+We owe a great debt to Robert Fano, who reorganized mit's intro- 
+ductory curriculum in electrical engineering and computer science to 
+emphasize the principles of engineering design. He led us in starting 
+out on this enterprise and wrote the first set of subject notes from which 
+this book evolved. 
+
+Much of the style and aesthetics of programming that we try to 
+teach were developed in conjunction with Guy Lewis Steele Jr., who 
+collaborated with Gerald Jay Sussman in the initial development of the 
+Scheme language. In addition, David Turner, Peter Henderson, Dan Fried- 
+man, David Wise, and Will Clinger have taught us many of the tech- 
+niques of the functional programming community that appear in this 
+book. 
+
+Joel Moses taught us about structuring large systems. His experi- 
+ence with the Macsyma system for symbolic computation provided the 
+insight that one should avoid complexities of control and concentrate 
+
+
+
+xxv 
+
+
+
+on organizing the data to reflect the real structure of the world being 
+modeled. 
+
+Marvin Minsky and Seymour Papert formed many of our attitudes 
+about programming and its place in our intellectual lives. To them we 
+owe the understanding that computation provides a means of expres- 
+sion for exploring ideas that would otherwise be too complex to deal 
+with precisely. They emphasize that a student's ability to write and 
+modify programs provides a powerful medium in which exploring be- 
+comes a natural activity. 
+
+We also strongly agree with Alan Perlis that programming is lots of 
+fun and we had better be careful to support the joy of programming. Part 
+of this joy derives from observing great masters at work. We are fortu- 
+nate to have been apprentice programmers at the feet of Bill Gosper and 
+Richard Greenblatt. 
+
+It is difficult to identify all the people who have contributed to the 
+development of our curriculum. We thank all the lecturers, recitation 
+instructors, and tutors who have worked with us over the past fifteen 
+years and put in many extra hours on our subject, especially Bill Siebert, 
+Albert Meyer, Joe Stoy, Randy Davis, Louis Braida, Eric Grimson, Rod 
+Brooks, Lynn Stein and Peter Szolovits. We would like to specially ac- 
+knowledge the outstanding teaching contributions of Franklyn Turbak, 
+now at Wellesley; his work in undergraduate instruction set a standard 
+that we can all aspire to. We are grateful to Jerry Saltzer and Jim Miller 
+for helping us grapple with the mysteries of concurrency, and to Peter 
+Szolovits and David McAllester for their contributions to the exposition 
+of nondeterministic evaluation in Chapter 4. 
+
+Many people have put in significant effort presenting this material 
+at other universities. Some of the people we have worked closely with 
+are Jacob Katzenelson at the Technion, Hardy Mayer at the University 
+
+
+
+xxvi 
+
+
+
+of California at Irvine, Joe Stoy at Oxford, Elisha Sacks at Purdue, and 
+Jan Komorowski at the Norwegian University of Science and Technol- 
+ogy. We are exceptionally proud of our colleagues who have received 
+major teaching awards for their adaptations of this subject at other uni- 
+versities, including Kenneth Yip at Yale, Brian Harvey at the University 
+of California at Berkeley, and Dan Huttenlocher at Cornell. 
+
+Al Moye arranged for us to teach this material to engineers at Hewlett- 
+Packard, and for the production of videotapes of these lectures. We 
+would like to thank the talented instructors— in particular Jim Miller, 
+Bill Siebert, and Mike Eisenberg— who have designed continuing edu- 
+cation courses incorporating these tapes and taught them at universities 
+and industry all over the world. 
+
+Many educators in other countries have put in significant work 
+translating the first edition. Michel Briand, Pierre Chamard, and An- 
+dre Pic produced a French edition; Susanne Daniels-Herold produced 
+a German edition; and Fumio Motoyoshi produced a Japanese edition. 
+We do not know who produced the Chinese edition, but we consider 
+it an honor to have been selected as the subject of an "unauthorized" 
+translation. 
+
+It is hard to enumerate all the people who have made technical con- 
+tributions to the development of the Scheme systems we use for in- 
+structional purposes. In addition to Guy Steele, principal wizards have 
+included Chris Hanson, Joe Bowbeer, Jim Miller, Guillermo Rozas, and 
+Stephen Adams. Others who have put in significant time are Richard 
+Stallman, Alan Bawden, Kent Pitman, Jon Taft, Neil Mayle, John Lamp- 
+ing, Gwyn Osnos, Tracy Larrabee, George Carrette, Soma Chaudhuri, 
+Bill Chiarchiaro, Steven Kirsch, Leigh Klotz, Wayne Noss, Todd Cass, 
+Patrick O'Donnell, Kevin Theobald, Daniel Weise, Kenneth Sinclair, An- 
+thony Courtemanche, Henry M. Wu, Andrew Berlin, and Ruth Shyu. 
+
+
+
+xxvii 
+
+
+
+Beyond the mit implementation, we would like to thank the many 
+people who worked on the ieee Scheme standard, including William 
+Clinger and Jonathan Rees, who edited the R 4 RS, and Chris Haynes, 
+David Bartley, Chris Hanson, and Jim Miller, who prepared the ieee 
+standard. 
+
+Dan Friedman has been a long-time leader of the Scheme commu- 
+nity. The community's broader work goes beyond issues of language 
+design to encompass significant educational innovations, such as the 
+high-school curriculum based on EdScheme by Schemer's Inc., and the 
+wonderful books by Mike Eisenberg and by Brian Harvey and Matthew 
+Wright. 
+
+We appreciate the work of those who contributed to making this a 
+real book, especially Terry Ehling, Larry Cohen, and Paul Bethge at the 
+mit Press. Ella Mazel found the wonderful cover image. For the second 
+edition we are particularly grateful to Bernard and Ella Mazel for help 
+with the book design, and to David Jones, IgX wizard extraordinaire. 
+We also are indebted to those readers who made penetrating comments 
+on the new draft: Jacob Katzenelson, Hardy Mayer, Jim Miller, and es- 
+pecially Brian Harvey, who did unto this book as Julie did unto his book 
+Simply Scheme. 
+
+Finally, we would like to acknowledge the support of the organiza- 
+tions that have encouraged this work over the years, including support 
+from Hewlett-Packard, made possible by Ira Goldstein and Joel Birn- 
+baum, and support from darpa, made possible by Bob Kahn. 
+
+
+
+xxviii 
+
+
+
+1 
+
+
+
+Building Abstractions with Procedures 
+
+
+
+The acts of the mind, wherein it exerts its power over simple 
+ideas, are chiefly these three: 1. Combining several simple 
+ideas into one compound one, and thus all complex ideas 
+are made. 2. The second is bringing two ideas, whether sim- 
+ple or complex, together, and setting them by one another 
+so as to take a view of them at once, without uniting them 
+into one, by which it gets all its ideas of relations. 3. The 
+third is separating them from all other ideas that accom- 
+pany them in their real existence: this is called abstraction, 
+and thus all its general ideas are made. 
+
+—John Locke, An Essay Concerning Human Understanding 
+(1690) 
+
+We are about to study the idea of a computational process. Com- 
+putational processes are abstract beings that inhabit computers. 
+As they evolve, processes manipulate other abstract things called data. 
+
+
+
+1 
+
+
+
+The evolution of a process is directed by a pattern of rules called a pro- 
+gram. People create programs to direct processes. In effect, we conjure 
+the spirits of the computer with our spells. 
+
+A computational process is indeed much like a sorcerer's idea of a 
+spirit. It cannot be seen or touched. It is not composed of matter at all. 
+However, it is very real. It can perform intellectual work. It can answer 
+questions. It can affect the world by disbursing money at a bank or by 
+controlling a robot arm in a factory. The programs we use to conjure 
+processes are like a sorcerer's spells. They are carefully composed from 
+symbolic expressions in arcane and esoteric programming languages that 
+prescribe the tasks we want our processes to perform. 
+
+A computational process, in a correctly working computer, executes 
+programs precisely and accurately. Thus, like the sorcerer's appren- 
+tice, novice programmers must learn to understand and to anticipate 
+the consequences of their conjuring. Even small errors (usually called 
+bugs or glitches) in programs can have complex and unanticipated con- 
+sequences. 
+
+Fortunately, learning to program is considerably less dangerous than 
+learning sorcery, because the spirits we deal with are conveniently con- 
+tained in a secure way. Real-world programming, however, requires 
+care, expertise, and wisdom. A small bug in a computer-aided design 
+program, for example, can lead to the catastrophic collapse of an air- 
+plane or a dam or the self-destruction of an industrial robot. 
+
+Master software engineers have the ability to organize programs so 
+that they can be reasonably sure that the resulting processes will per- 
+form the tasks intended. They can visualize the behavior of their sys- 
+tems in advance. They know how to structure programs so that unan- 
+ticipated problems do not lead to catastrophic consequences, and when 
+problems do arise, they can debug their programs. Well-designed com- 
+
+
+
+2 
+
+
+
+putational systems, like well-designed automobiles or nuclear reactors, 
+are designed in a modular manner, so that the parts can be constructed, 
+replaced, and debugged separately. 
+
+Programming in Lisp 
+
+We need an appropriate language for describing processes, and we will 
+use for this purpose the programming language Lisp. Just as our every- 
+day thoughts are usually expressed in our natural language (such as En- 
+glish, French, or Japanese), and descriptions of quantitative phenomena 
+are expressed with mathematical notations, our procedural thoughts 
+will be expressed in Lisp. Lisp was invented in the late 1950s as a for- 
+malism for reasoning about the use of certain kinds of logical expres- 
+sions, called recursion equations, as a model for computation. The lan- 
+guage was conceived by John McCarthy and is based on his paper "Re- 
+cursive Functions of Symbolic Expressions and Their Computation by 
+Machine" (McCarthy 1960). 
+
+Despite its inception as a mathematical formalism, Lisp is a practi- 
+cal programming language. A Lisp interpreter is a machine that carries 
+out processes described in the Lisp language. The first Lisp interpreter 
+was implemented by McCarthy with the help of colleagues and stu- 
+dents in the Artificial Intelligence Group of the mit Research Laboratory 
+of Electronics and in the mit Computation Center. 1 Lisp, whose name 
+is an acronym for LISt Processing, was designed to provide symbol- 
+manipulating capabilities for attacking programming problems such as 
+the symbolic differentiation and integration of algebraic expressions. 
+It included for this purpose new data objects known as atoms and lists, 
+
+1 The Lisp 1 Programmer's Manual appeared in I960, and the Lisp 1.5 Programmer's 
+Manual (McCarthy et al. 1965) was published in 1962. The early history of Lisp is de- 
+scribed in McCarthy 1978. 
+
+
+
+3 
+
+
+
+which most strikingly set it apart from all other languages of the period. 
+
+Lisp was not the product of a concerted design effort. Instead, it 
+evolved informally in an experimental manner in response to users' 
+needs and to pragmatic implementation considerations. Lisp's informal 
+evolution has continued through the years, and the community of Lisp 
+users has traditionally resisted attempts to promulgate any "official" 
+definition of the language. This evolution, together with the flexibility 
+and elegance of the initial conception, has enabled Lisp, which is the sec- 
+ond oldest language in widespread use today (only Fortran is older), to 
+continually adapt to encompass the most modern ideas about program 
+design. Thus, Lisp is by now a family of dialects, which, while sharing 
+most of the original features, may differ from one another in significant 
+ways. The dialect of Lisp used in this book is called Scheme. 2 
+
+Because of its experimental character and its emphasis on symbol 
+manipulation, Lisp was at first very inefficient for numerical compu- 
+tations, at least in comparison with Fortran. Over the years, however, 
+
+2 The two dialects in which most major Lisp programs of the 1970s were written are 
+Maclisp (Moon 1978; Pitman 1983), developed at the mit Project mac, and Interlisp 
+(Teitelman 1974), developed at Bolt Beranek and Newman Inc. and the Xerox Palo Alto 
+Research Center. Portable Standard Lisp (Hearn 1969; Griss 1981) was a Lisp dialect 
+designed to be easily portable between different machines. MacLisp spawned a number 
+of subdialects, such as Franz Lisp, which was developed at the University of California 
+at Berkeley, and Zetalisp (Moon and Weinreb 1981), which was based on a special- 
+purpose processor designed at the mit Artificial Intelligence Laboratory to run Lisp 
+very efficiently. The Lisp dialect used in this book, called Scheme (Steele and Sussman 
+1975), was invented in 1975 by Guy Lewis Steele Jr. and Gerald Jay Sussman of the mit 
+Artificial Intelligence Laboratory and later reimplemented for instructional use at mit. 
+Scheme became an ieee standard in 1990 (IEEE 1990). The Common Lisp dialect (Steele 
+1982, Steele 1990) was developed by the Lisp community to combine features from the 
+earlier Lisp dialects to make an industrial standard for Lisp. Common Lisp became an 
+ansi standard in 1994 (ANSI 1994). 
+
+
+
+4 
+
+
+
+Lisp compilers have been developed that translate programs into ma- 
+chine code that can perform numerical computations reasonably effi- 
+ciently. And for special applications, Lisp has been used with great ef- 
+fectiveness. 3 Although Lisp has not yet overcome its old reputation as 
+hopelessly inefficient, Lisp is now used in many applications where ef- 
+ficiency is not the central concern. For example, Lisp has become a lan- 
+guage of choice for operating-system shell languages and for extension 
+languages for editors and computer-aided design systems. 
+
+If Lisp is not a mainstream language, why are we using it as the 
+framework for our discussion of programming? Because the language 
+possesses unique features that make it an excellent medium for studying 
+important programming constructs and data structures and for relating 
+them to the linguistic features that support them. The most significant of 
+these features is the fact that Lisp descriptions of processes, called proce- 
+dures, can themselves be represented and manipulated as Lisp data. The 
+importance of this is that there are powerful program-design techniques 
+that rely on the ability to blur the traditional distinction between "pas- 
+sive" data and "active" processes. As we shall discover, Lisp's flexibility 
+in handling procedures as data makes it one of the most convenient 
+languages in existence for exploring these techniques. The ability to 
+represent procedures as data also makes Lisp an excellent language for 
+writing programs that must manipulate other programs as data, such as 
+the interpreters and compilers that support computer languages. Above 
+and beyond these considerations, programming in Lisp is great fun. 
+
+3 One such special application was a breakthrough computation of scientific 
+importance— an integration of the motion of the Solar System that extended previous 
+results by nearly two orders of magnitude, and demonstrated that the dynamics of the 
+Solar System is chaotic. This computation was made possible by new integration al- 
+gorithms, a special-purpose compiler, and a special-purpose computer all implemented 
+with the aid of software tools written in Lisp (Abelson et al. 1992; Sussman and Wisdom 
+1992). 
+
+
+
+5 
+
+
+
+1.1 The Elements of Programming 
+
+
+
+A powerful programming language is more than just a means for in- 
+structing a computer to perform tasks. The language also serves as a 
+framework within which we organize our ideas about processes. Thus, 
+when we describe a language, we should pay particular attention to the 
+means that the language provides for combining simple ideas to form 
+more complex ideas. Every powerful language has three mechanisms 
+for accomplishing this: 
+
+• primitive expressions, which represent the simplest entities the 
+language is concerned with, 
+
+• means of combination, by which compound elements are built 
+from simpler ones, and 
+
+• means of abstraction, by which compound elements can be named 
+and manipulated as units. 
+
+In programming, we deal with two kinds of elements: procedures and 
+data. (Later we will discover that they are really not so distinct.) Infor- 
+mally, data is "stuff" that we want to manipulate, and procedures are 
+descriptions of the rules for manipulating the data. Thus, any powerful 
+programming language should be able to describe primitive data and 
+primitive procedures and should have methods for combining and ab- 
+stracting procedures and data. 
+
+In this chapter we will deal only with simple numerical data so that 
+we can focus on the rules for building procedures. 4 In later chapters we 
+
+4 The characterization of numbers as "simple data" is a barefaced bluff. In fact, the 
+treatment of numbers is one of the trickiest and most confusing aspects of any pro- 
+
+
+
+6 
+
+
+
+will see that these same rules allow us to build procedures to manipulate 
+compound data as well. 
+
+1.1.1 Expressions 
+
+One easy way to get started at programming is to examine some typical 
+interactions with an interpreter for the Scheme dialect of Lisp. Imagine 
+that you are sitting at a computer terminal. You type an expression, and 
+the interpreter responds by displaying the result of its evaluating that 
+expression. 
+
+One kind of primitive expression you might type is a number. (More 
+precisely the expression that you type consists of the numerals that 
+represent the number in base 10.) If you present Lisp with a number 
+
+486 
+
+the interpreter will respond by printing 5 
+
+486 
+
+gramming language. Some typical issues involved are these: Some computer systems 
+distinguish integers, such as 2, from real numbers, such as 2.71. Is the real number 2.00 
+different from the integer 2? Are the arithmetic operations used for integers the same 
+as the operations used for real numbers? Does 6 divided by 2 produce 3, or 3.0? How 
+large a number can we represent? How many decimal places of accuracy can we repre- 
+sent? Is the range of integers the same as the range of real numbers? Above and beyond 
+these questions, of course, lies a collection of issues concerning roundoff and trunca- 
+tion errors— the entire science of numerical analysis. Since our focus in this book is on 
+large-scale program design rather than on numerical techniques, we are going to ignore 
+these problems. The numerical examples in this chapter will exhibit the usual roundoff 
+behavior that one observes when using arithmetic operations that preserve a limited 
+number of decimal places of accuracy in noninteger operations. 
+
+5 Throughout this book, when we wish to emphasize the distinction between the 
+input typed by the user and the response printed by the interpreter, we will show the 
+latter in slanted characters. 
+
+
+
+7 
+
+
+
+Expressions representing numbers may be combined with an expres- 
+sion representing a primitive procedure (such as + or *) to form a com- 
+pound expression that represents the application of the procedure to 
+those numbers. For example: 
+
+(+ 137 349) 
+486 
+
+(- 1000 334) 
+666 
+
+(* 5 99) 
+495 
+
+(/ 10 5) 
+2 
+
+(+ 2.7 10) 
+72. 7 
+
+Expressions such as these, formed by delimiting a list of expressions 
+within parentheses in order to denote procedure application, are called 
+combinations. The leftmost element in the list is called the operator, and 
+the other elements are called operands. The value of a combination is 
+obtained by applying the procedure specified by the operator to the ar- 
+guments that are the values of the operands. 
+
+The convention of placing the operator to the left of the operands 
+is known as prefix notation, and it may be somewhat confusing at first 
+because it departs significantly from the customary mathematical con- 
+vention. Prefix notation has several advantages, however. One of them 
+is that it can accommodate procedures that may take an arbitrary num- 
+ber of arguments, as in the following examples: 
+
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+(+ 21 35 12 7) 
+75 
+
+(* 25 4 12) 
+7200 
+
+No ambiguity can arise, because the operator is always the leftmost el- 
+ement and the entire combination is delimited by the parentheses. 
+
+A second advantage of prefix notation is that it extends in a straight- 
+forward way to allow combinations to be nested, that is, to have combi- 
+nations whose elements are themselves combinations: 
+
+(+ (* 3 5) (- 10 6)) 
+79 
+
+There is no limit (in principle) to the depth of such nesting and to the 
+overall complexity of the expressions that the Lisp interpreter can eval- 
+uate. It is we humans who get confused by still relatively simple expres- 
+sions such as 
+
+( + (* 3 ( + (* 2 4) (+ 3 5))) (+ (- 10 7) 6)) 
+
+which the interpreter would readily evaluate to be 57. We can help our- 
+selves by writing such an expression in the form 
+
+(+ (* 3 
+
+(+ (* 2 4) 
+( + 3 5))) 
+(+ (- 10 7) 
+6)) 
+
+following a formatting convention known as pretty-printing, in which 
+each long combination is written so that the operands are aligned ver- 
+tically. The resulting indentations display clearly the structure of the 
+
+
+
+9 
+
+
+
+expression. 6 
+
+Even with complex expressions, the interpreter always operates in 
+the same basic cycle: It reads an expression from the terminal, evaluates 
+the expression, and prints the result. This mode of operation is often 
+expressed by saying that the interpreter runs in a read-eval-print loop. 
+Observe in particular that it is not necessary to explicitly instruct the 
+interpreter to print the value of the expression. 7 
+
+1.1. 2 Naming and the Environment 
+
+A critical aspect of a programming language is the means it provides 
+for using names to refer to computational objects. We say that the name 
+identifies a variable whose value is the object. 
+
+In the Scheme dialect of Lisp, we name things with define. Typing 
+
+(define size 2) 
+
+causes the interpreter to associate the value 2 with the name size. 8 
+Once the name size has been associated with the number 2, we can 
+refer to the value 2 by name: 
+
+size 
+
+2 
+
+
+
+6 Lisp systems typically provide features to aid the user in formatting expressions. 
+Two especially useful features are one that automatically indents to the proper pretty- 
+print position whenever a new line is started and one that highlights the matching left 
+parenthesis whenever a right parenthesis is typed. 
+
+7 Lisp obeys the convention that every expression has a value. This convention, to- 
+gether with the old reputation of Lisp as an inefficient language, is the source of the 
+quip by Alan Perlis (paraphrasing Oscar Wilde) that "Lisp programmers know the value 
+of everything but the cost of nothing." 
+
+8 In this book, we do not show the interpreter's response to evaluating definitions, 
+since this is highly implementation-dependent. 
+
+
+
+10 
+
+
+
+(* 5 size) 
+10 
+
+
+
+Here are further examples of the use of define: 
+
+(define pi 3.14159) 
+(define radius 10) 
+(* pi (* radius radius)) 
+314. 159 
+
+(define circumference (* 2 pi radius)) 
+
+circumference 
+
+62.8318 
+
+Define is our language's simplest means of abstraction, for it allows 
+us to use simple names to refer to the results of compound operations, 
+such as the circumference computed above. In general, computational 
+objects may have very complex structures, and it would be extremely 
+inconvenient to have to remember and repeat their details each time we 
+want to use them. Indeed, complex programs are constructed by build- 
+ing, step by step, computational objects of increasing complexity. The 
+interpreter makes this step-by-step program construction particularly 
+convenient because name-object associations can be created incremen- 
+tally in successive interactions. This feature encourages the incremental 
+development and testing of programs and is largely responsible for the 
+fact that a Lisp program usually consists of a large number of relatively 
+simple procedures. 
+
+It should be clear that the possibility of associating values with sym- 
+bols and later retrieving them means that the interpreter must maintain 
+some sort of memory that keeps track of the name-object pairs. This 
+memory is called the environment (more precisely the global environ- 
+ment, since we will see later that a computation may involve a number 
+
+
+
+11 
+
+
+
+of different environments). 9 
+
+1.1.3 Evaluating Combinations 
+
+One of our goals in this chapter is to isolate issues about thinking pro- 
+cedurally. As a case in point, let us consider that, in evaluating combi- 
+nations, the interpreter is itself following a procedure. 
+To evaluate a combination, do the following: 
+
+1. Evaluate the subexpressions of the combination. 
+
+2. Apply the procedure that is the value of the leftmost subexpres- 
+sion (the operator) to the arguments that are the values of the 
+other subexpressions (the operands). 
+
+Even this simple rule illustrates some important points about processes 
+in general. First, observe that the first step dictates that in order to ac- 
+complish the evaluation process for a combination we must first per- 
+form the evaluation process on each element of the combination. Thus, 
+the evaluation rule is recursive in nature; that is, it includes, as one of 
+its steps, the need to invoke the rule itself. 10 
+
+Notice how succinctly the idea of recursion can be used to express 
+what, in the case of a deeply nested combination, would otherwise be 
+viewed as a rather complicated process. For example, evaluating 
+
+Chapter 3 will show that this notion of environment is crucial, both for under- 
+standing how the interpreter works and for implementing interpreters. 
+
+1 It may seem strange that the evaluation rule says, as part of the first step, that 
+we should evaluate the leftmost element of a combination, since at this point that can 
+only be an operator such as + or * representing a built-in primitive procedure such as 
+addition or multiplication. We will see later that it is useful to be able to work with 
+combinations whose operators are themselves compound expressions. 
+
+
+
+12 
+
+
+
+390 
+
+
+
+
+* 4 6 
+
+
+
+Figure T.T: Tree representation, showing the value of each 
+subcombination. 
+
+
+
+(* (+ 2 (* 4 6)) 
+(+ 3 5 7)) 
+
+requires that the evaluation rule be applied to four different combina- 
+tions. We can obtain a picture of this process by representing the combi- 
+nation in the form of a tree, as shown in Figure 1.1. Each combination is 
+represented by a node with branches corresponding to the operator and 
+the operands of the combination stemming from it. The terminal nodes 
+(that is, nodes with no branches stemming from them) represent either 
+operators or numbers. Viewing evaluation in terms of the tree, we can 
+imagine that the values of the operands percolate upward, starting from 
+the terminal nodes and then combining at higher and higher levels. In 
+general, we shall see that recursion is a very powerful technique for 
+dealing with hierarchical, treelike objects. In fact, the "percolate values 
+upward" form of the evaluation rule is an example of a general kind of 
+process known as tree accumulation. 
+
+Next, observe that the repeated application of the first step brings us 
+to the point where we need to evaluate, not combinations, but primitive 
+expressions such as numerals, built-in operators, or other names. We 
+
+
+
+13 
+
+
+
+take care of the primitive cases by stipulating that 
+
+• the values of numerals are the numbers that they name, 
+
+• the values of built-in operators are the machine instruction se- 
+quences that carry out the corresponding operations, and 
+
+• the values of other names are the objects associated with those 
+names in the environment. 
+
+We may regard the second rule as a special case of the third one by stip- 
+ulating that symbols such as + and * are also included in the global envi- 
+ronment, and are associated with the sequences of machine instructions 
+that are their "values." The key point to notice is the role of the environ- 
+ment in determining the meaning of the symbols in expressions. In an 
+interactive language such as Lisp, it is meaningless to speak of the value 
+of an expression such as (+ x 1 ) without specifying any information 
+about the environment that would provide a meaning for the symbol 
+x (or even for the symbol +). As we shall see in Chapter 3, the general 
+notion of the environment as providing a context in which evaluation 
+takes place will play an important role in our understanding of program 
+execution. 
+
+Notice that the evaluation rule given above does not handle defini- 
+tions. For instance, evaluating (define x 3) does not apply define to 
+two arguments, one of which is the value of the symbol x and the other 
+of which is 3, since the purpose of the define is precisely to associate x 
+with a value. (That is, (define x 3) is not a combination.) 
+
+Such exceptions to the general evaluation rule are called special forms. 
+Define is the only example of a special form that we have seen so far, 
+but we will meet others shortly. Each special form has its own evalu- 
+ation rule. The various kinds of expressions (each with its associated 
+
+
+
+14 
+
+
+
+evaluation rule) constitute the syntax of the programming language. In 
+comparison with most other programming languages, Lisp has a very 
+simple syntax; that is, the evaluation rule for expressions can be de- 
+scribed by a simple general rule together with specialized rules for a 
+small number of special forms. 11 
+
+1.1.4 Compound Procedures 
+
+We have identified in Lisp some of the elements that must appear in any 
+powerful programming language: 
+
+• Numbers and arithmetic operations are primitive data and proce- 
+dures. 
+
+• Nesting of combinations provides a means of combining opera- 
+tions. 
+
+• Definitions that associate names with values provide a limited 
+means of abstraction. 
+
+Now we will learn about procedure definitions, a much more powerful 
+abstraction technique by which a compound operation can be given a 
+name and then referred to as a unit. 
+
+n Special syntactic forms that are simply convenient alternative surface structures 
+for things that can be written in more uniform ways are sometimes called syntactic 
+sugar, to use a phrase coined by Peter Landin. In comparison with users of other lan- 
+guages, Lisp programmers, as a rule, are less concerned with matters of syntax. (By 
+contrast, examine any Pascal manual and notice how much of it is devoted to descrip- 
+tions of syntax.) This disdain for syntax is due partly to the flexibility of Lisp, which 
+makes it easy to change surface syntax, and partly to the observation that many "con- 
+venient" syntactic constructs, which make the language less uniform, end up causing 
+more trouble than they are worth when programs become large and complex. In the 
+words of Alan Perlis, "Syntactic sugar causes cancer of the semicolon." 
+
+
+
+15 
+
+
+
+We begin by examining how to express the idea of "squaring." We 
+might say, "To square something, multiply it by itself." This is expressed 
+in our language as 
+
+(define (square x) (* x x)) 
+
+We can understand this in the following way: 
+
+(define (square x) (* x x)) 
+
+III II I 
+
+To square something, multiply it by itself. 
+
+We have here a compound procedure, which has been given the name 
+square. The procedure represents the operation of multiplying some- 
+thing by itself. The thing to be multiplied is given a local name, x, which 
+plays the same role that a pronoun plays in natural language. Evaluating 
+the definition creates this compound procedure and associates it with 
+the name square. 12 
+
+The general form of a procedure definition is 
+
+(define {{name} {formal parameters}) 
+{body}) 
+
+The (name) is a symbol to be associated with the procedure definition in 
+the environment. 13 The {formal parameters) are the names used within 
+the body of the procedure to refer to the corresponding arguments of 
+the procedure. The (body) is an expression that will yield the value of 
+
+12 Observe that there are two different operations being combined here: we are creat- 
+ing the procedure, and we are giving it the name squa re. It is possible, indeed important, 
+to be able to separate these two notions— to create procedures without naming them, 
+and to give names to procedures that have already been created. We will see how to do 
+this in Section 1.3.2. 
+
+13 1hroughout this book, we will describe the general syntax of expressions by using 
+italic symbols delimited by angle brackets— e.g., {name}— to denote the "slots" in the 
+expression to be filled in when such an expression is actually used. 
+
+
+
+16 
+
+
+
+the procedure application when the formal parameters are replaced by 
+the actual arguments to which the procedure is applied. 14 The (name) 
+and the (formal parameters) are grouped within parentheses, just as they 
+would be in an actual call to the procedure being defined. 
+Having defined square, we can now use it: 
+
+(square 21) 
+441 
+
+(square (+ 2 5)) 
+49 
+
+(square (square 3)) 
+
+81 
+
+We can also use square as a building block in defining other procedures. 
+For example, x 2 + y 2 can be expressed as 
+
+(+ (square x) (square y)) 
+
+We can easily define a procedure sum-of-squares that, given any two 
+numbers as arguments, produces the sum of their squares: 
+
+(define (sum-of-squares x y) 
+(+ (square x) (square y))) 
+(sum-of-squares 3 4) 
+
+25 
+
+Now we can use sum-of-squares as a building block in constructing 
+further procedures: 
+
+(define (f a) 
+
+(sum-of-squares (+ a 1) (* a 2))) 
+(f 5) 
+736 
+
+14 More generally, the body of the procedure can be a sequence of expressions. In this 
+case, the interpreter evaluates each expression in the sequence in turn and returns the 
+value of the final expression as the value of the procedure application. 
+
+
+
+17 
+
+
+
+Compound procedures are used in exactly the same way as primitive 
+procedures. Indeed, one could not tell by looking at the definition of 
+sum-of-squares given above whether square was built into the inter- 
+preter, like + and *, or defined as a compound procedure. 
+
+1.1.5 The Substitution Model for Procedure Application 
+
+To evaluate a combination whose operator names a compound proce- 
+dure, the interpreter follows much the same process as for combina- 
+tions whose operators name primitive procedures, which we described 
+in Section 1.1.3. That is, the interpreter evaluates the elements of the 
+combination and applies the procedure (which is the value of the oper- 
+ator of the combination) to the arguments (which are the values of the 
+operands of the combination). 
+
+We can assume that the mechanism for applying primitive proce- 
+dures to arguments is built into the interpreter. For compound proce- 
+dures, the application process is as follows: 
+
+To apply a compound procedure to arguments, evaluate the 
+body of the procedure with each formal parameter replaced 
+by the corresponding argument. 
+
+To illustrate this process, let's evaluate the combination 
+
+(f 5) 
+
+where f is the procedure defined in Section 1.1.4. We begin by retrieving 
+the body of f: 
+
+(sum-of-squares (+ a 1) (* a 2)) 
+
+Then we replace the formal parameter a by the argument 5: 
+
+(sum-of-squares (+ 5 1) (* 5 2)) 
+
+
+
+18 
+
+
+
+Thus the problem reduces to the evaluation of a combination with two 
+operands and an operator sum-of-squares. Evaluating this combina- 
+tion involves three subproblems. We must evaluate the operator to get 
+the procedure to be applied, and we must evaluate the operands to get 
+the arguments. Now (+51) produces 6 and (* 5 2) produces 10, so 
+we must apply the sum-of-squares procedure to 6 and 10. These values 
+are substituted for the formal parameters x and y in the body of sum- 
+of-squares, reducing the expression to 
+
+(+ (square 6) (square 10)) 
+
+If we use the definition of square, this reduces to 
+
+(+ (* 6 6) (* 10 10)) 
+
+which reduces by multiplication to 
+
+(+ 36 100) 
+
+and finally to 
+
+136 
+
+The process we have just described is called the substitution model for 
+procedure application. It can be taken as a model that determines the 
+"meaning" of procedure application, insofar as the procedures in this 
+chapter are concerned. However, there are two points that should be 
+stressed: 
+
+• The purpose of the substitution is to help us think about proce- 
+dure application, not to provide a description of how the inter- 
+preter really works. Typical interpreters do not evaluate proce- 
+dure applications by manipulating the text of a procedure to sub- 
+stitute values for the formal parameters. In practice, the "substi- 
+tution" is accomplished by using a local environment for the for- 
+mal parameters. We will discuss this more fully in Chapter 3 and 
+
+
+
+19 
+
+
+
+Chapter 4 when we examine the implementation of an interpreter 
+in detail. 
+
+• Over the course of this book, we will present a sequence of in- 
+creasingly elaborate models of how interpreters work, culminat- 
+ing with a complete implementation of an interpreter and com- 
+piler in Chapter 5. The substitution model is only the first of these 
+models— a way to get started thinking formally about the evalu- 
+ation process. In general, when modeling phenomena in science 
+and engineering, we begin with simplified, incomplete models. 
+As we examine things in greater detail, these simple models be- 
+come inadequate and must be replaced by more refined models. 
+The substitution model is no exception. In particular, when we 
+address in Chapter 3 the use of procedures with "mutable data," 
+we will see that the substitution model breaks down and must be 
+replaced by a more complicated model of procedure application. 15 
+
+Applicative order versus normal order 
+
+According to the description of evaluation given in Section 1.1.3, the 
+interpreter first evaluates the operator and operands and then applies 
+the resulting procedure to the resulting arguments. This is not the only 
+way to perform evaluation. An alternative evaluation model would not 
+evaluate the operands until their values were needed. Instead it would 
+
+15 Despite the simplicity of the substitution idea, it turns out to be surprisingly com- 
+plicated to give a rigorous mathematical definition of the substitution process. The 
+problem arises from the possibility of confusion between the names used for the formal 
+parameters of a procedure and the (possibly identical) names used in the expressions to 
+which the procedure may be applied. Indeed, there is a long history of erroneous def- 
+initions of substitution in the literature of logic and programming semantics. See Stoy 
+1977 for a careful discussion of substitution. 
+
+
+
+20 
+
+
+
+first substitute operand expressions for parameters until it obtained an 
+expression involving only primitive operators, and would then perform 
+the evaluation. If we used this method, the evaluation of (f 5) would 
+proceed according to the sequence of expansions 
+
+(sum-of-squares (+ 5 1) (* 5 2)) 
+
+(+ (square (+ 5 1)) (square (* 5 2)) ) 
+
+(+ (* ( + 5 1) (+ 5 1)) (* (* 5 2) (* 5 2))) 
+
+followed by the reductions 
+
+(+ (* 6 6) (* 10 10)) 
+
+(+ 36 100) 
+
+136 
+
+This gives the same answer as our previous evaluation model, but the 
+process is different. In particular, the evaluations of (+ 5 1 ) and (* 5 
+2) are each performed twice here, corresponding to the reduction of the 
+expression (* x x) with x replaced respectively by (+ 5 1 ) and (* 5 
+2). 
+
+This alternative "fully expand and then reduce" evaluation method 
+is known as normal-order evaluation, in contrast to the "evaluate the 
+arguments and then apply" method that the interpreter actually uses, 
+which is called applicative-order evaluation. It can be shown that, for 
+procedure applications that can be modeled using substitution (includ- 
+ing all the procedures in the first two chapters of this book) and that 
+yield legitimate values, normal-order and applicative-order evaluation 
+produce the same value. (See Exercise 1.5 for an instance of an "illegit- 
+imate" value where normal-order and applicative-order evaluation do 
+not give the same result.) 
+
+Lisp uses applicative-order evaluation, partly because of the addi- 
+tional efficiency obtained from avoiding multiple evaluations of expres- 
+sions such as those illustrated with (+5 1) and (* 5 2) above and, more 
+
+
+
+21 
+
+
+
+significantly, because normal-order evaluation becomes much more com- 
+plicated to deal with when we leave the realm of procedures that can be 
+modeled by substitution. On the other hand, normal-order evaluation 
+can be an extremely valuable tool, and we will investigate some of its 
+implications in Chapter 3 and Chapter 4. 16 
+
+1.1.6 Conditional Expressions and Predicates 
+
+The expressive power of the class of procedures that we can define at 
+this point is very limited, because we have no way to make tests and 
+to perform different operations depending on the result of a test. For 
+instance, we cannot define a procedure that computes the absolute value 
+of a number by testing whether the number is positive, negative, or zero 
+and taking different actions in the different cases according to the rule 
+
+
+
+This construct is called a case analysis, and there is a special form in 
+Lisp for notating such a case analysis. It is called cond (which stands for 
+"conditional"), and it is used as follows: 
+
+(define (abs x) 
+
+(cond ((> x 0) x) 
+
+((= x 0) 0) 
+
+((< x 0) (- x)))) 
+
+The general form of a conditional expression is 
+
+16 In Chapter 3 we will introduce stream processing, which is a way of handling appar- 
+ently "infinite" data structures by incorporating a limited form of normal-order evalu- 
+ation. In Section 4.2 we will modify the Scheme interpreter to produce a normal-order 
+variant of Scheme. 
+
+
+
+1*1 - 
+
+
+
+I 
+
+
+
+x if x > 0, 
+0 if x = 0, 
+-x if x < 0. 
+
+
+
+22 
+
+
+
+(cond «p!> <e!» 
+«P2> fe)) 
+
+
+
+((Pn) (e„») 
+
+consisting of the symbol cond followed by parenthesized pairs of ex- 
+pressions 
+
+«P> <e» 
+
+called clauses. The first expression in each pair is a predicate— that is, an 
+expression whose value is interpreted as either true or false. 17 
+
+Conditional expressions are evaluated as follows. The predicate (pi) 
+is evaluated first. If its value is false, then (p2) is evaluated. If (p2)'s 
+value is also false, then (p 3 ) is evaluated. This process continues until 
+a predicate is found whose value is true, in which case the interpreter 
+returns the value of the corresponding consequent expression (e) of the 
+clause as the value of the conditional expression. If none of the (p)'s is 
+found to be true, the value of the cond is undefined. 
+
+The word predicate is used for procedures that return true or false, 
+as well as for expressions that evaluate to true or false. The absolute- 
+value procedure abs makes use of the primitive predicates >, <, and =. 18 
+These take two numbers as arguments and test whether the first number 
+is, respectively, greater than, less than, or equal to the second number, 
+returning true or false accordingly. 
+
+Another way to write the absolute-value procedure is 
+
+17 "Interpreted as either true or false" means this: In Scheme, there are two distin- 
+guished values that are denoted by the constants #t and #f . When the interpreter checks 
+a predicate's value, it interprets #f as false. Any other value is treated as true. (Thus, 
+providing #t is logically unnecessary, but it is convenient.) In this book we will use 
+names true and false, which are associated with the values #t and #f respectively. 
+
+18 Abs also uses the "minus" operator -, which, when used with a single operand, as 
+in (- x), indicates negation. 
+
+
+
+23 
+
+
+
+(define (abs x) 
+
+(cond ((< x 0) (- x)) 
+(else x))) 
+
+which could be expressed in English as "If x is less than zero return — x; 
+otherwise return x" Else is a special symbol that can be used in place of 
+the (p) in the final clause of a cond. This causes the cond to return as its 
+value the value of the corresponding (e) whenever all previous clauses 
+have been bypassed. In fact, any expression that always evaluates to a 
+true value could be used as the (p) here. 
+
+Here is yet another way to write the absolute-value procedure: 
+
+(define (abs x) 
+(if (< x 0) 
+(- x) 
+x)) 
+
+This uses the special form if, a restricted type of conditional that can 
+be used when there are precisely two cases in the case analysis. The 
+general form of an if expression is 
+
+(if {predicate) (consequent) (alternative)) 
+
+To evaluate an if expression, the interpreter starts by evaluating the 
+(predicate) part of the expression. If the (predicate) evaluates to a true 
+value, the interpreter then evaluates the (consequent) and returns its 
+value. Otherwise it evaluates the (alternative) and returns its value. 19 
+
+In addition to primitive predicates such as <, =, and >, there are log- 
+ical composition operations, which enable us to construct compound 
+
+19 A minor difference between if and cond is that the (e) part of each cond clause may 
+be a sequence of expressions. If the corresponding (p) is found to be true, the expres- 
+sions (e) are evaluated in sequence and the value of the final expression in the sequence 
+is returned as the value of the cond. In an if expression, however, the (consequent) and 
+(alternative) must be single expressions. 
+
+
+
+24 
+
+
+
+predicates. The three most frequently used are these: 
+
+• (and <ei> . . . <e„» 
+
+The interpreter evaluates the expressions (e) one at a time, in left- 
+to-right order. If any (e) evaluates to false, the value of the and 
+expression is false, and the rest of the (e)'s are not evaluated. If 
+all (e)'s evaluate to true values, the value of the and expression is 
+the value of the last one. 
+
+• (or <ex> . . . <e„» 
+
+The interpreter evaluates the expressions (e) one at a time, in left- 
+to-right order. If any (e) evaluates to a true value, that value is 
+returned as the value of the or expression, and the rest of the 
+(e)'s are not evaluated. If all (e)'s evaluate to false, the value of 
+the or expression is false. 
+
+• (not <e» 
+
+The value of a not expression is true when the expression (e) 
+evaluates to false, and false otherwise. 
+
+Notice that and and or are special forms, not procedures, because the 
+subexpressions are not necessarily all evaluated. Not is an ordinary pro- 
+cedure. 
+
+As an example of how these are used, the condition that a number 
+x be in the range 5 < x < 10 may be expressed as 
+
+(and (> x 5) (< x 10)) 
+
+As another example, we can define a predicate to test whether one num- 
+ber is greater than or equal to another as 
+
+(define (>= x y) (or (> x y) (= x y))) 
+
+
+
+25 
+
+
+
+or alternatively as 
+
+(define (>= x y) (not (< x y))) 
+
+Exercise T.I: Below is a sequence of expressions. What is 
+the result printed by the interpreter in response to each ex- 
+pression? Assume that the sequence is to be evaluated in 
+the order in which it is presented. 
+
+10 
+
+(+5 3 4) 
+(-9 1) 
+(/ 6 2) 
+
+(+ (* 2 4) (- 4 6)) 
+(define a 3) 
+(define b (+ a 1)) 
+(+ a b (* a b)) 
+(= a b) 
+
+(if (and (> b a) (< b (* a b))) 
+b 
+a 
+
+(cond ((= a 4) 6) 
+
+((= b 4) (+ 6 7 a)) 
+(else 25)) 
+
+(+ 2 (if (> b a) b a)) 
+
+(* (cond ((> a b) a) 
+
+((< a b) b) 
+
+(else -1)) 
+(+ a 1)) 
+
+
+
+26 
+
+
+
+Exercise T .2: Translate the following expression into prefix 
+form: 
+
+5 + 4 + (2 - (3 - (6 + |))) 
+3(6 - 2)(2 - 7) 
+
+Exercise T.3: Define a procedure that takes three numbers 
+as arguments and returns the sum of the squares of the two 
+larger numbers. 
+
+Exercise T .4: Observe that our model of evaluation allows 
+for combinations whose operators are compound expres- 
+sions. Use this observation to describe the behavior of the 
+following procedure: 
+
+(define (a-plus-abs-b a b) 
+((if (> b 0) + -) a b)) 
+
+Exercise T .5: Ben Bitdiddle has invented a test to determine 
+whether the interpreter he is faced with is using applicative- 
+order evaluation or normal-order evaluation. He defines the 
+following two procedures: 
+
+(define (p) (p)) 
+(define (test x y) 
+(if (= x 0) 0 y)) 
+
+Then he evaluates the expression 
+
+(test 0 (p)) 
+
+What behavior will Ben observe with an interpreter that 
+uses applicative-order evaluation? What behavior will he 
+observe with an interpreter that uses normal-order evalu- 
+ation? Explain your answer. (Assume that the evaluation 
+
+
+
+27 
+
+
+
+rule for the special form if is the same whether the in- 
+terpreter is using normal or applicative order: The predi- 
+cate expression is evaluated first, and the result determines 
+whether to evaluate the consequent or the alternative ex- 
+pression.) 
+
+1.1.7 Example: Square Roots by Newton's Method 
+
+Procedures, as introduced above, are much like ordinary mathematical 
+functions. They specify a value that is determined by one or more pa- 
+rameters. But there is an important difference between mathematical 
+functions and computer procedures. Procedures must be effective. 
+
+As a case in point, consider the problem of computing square roots. 
+We can define the square-root function as 
+
+sjx = the y such that y > 0 and y 2 = x. 
+
+This describes a perfectly legitimate mathematical function. We could 
+use it to recognize whether one number is the square root of another, 
+or to derive facts about square roots in general. On the other hand, the 
+definition does not describe a procedure. Indeed, it tells us almost noth- 
+ing about how to actually find the square root of a given number. It will 
+not help matters to rephrase this definition in pseudo-Lisp: 
+
+(define (sqrt x) 
+
+(the y (and (>= y 0) 
+
+(= (square y) x)))) 
+
+This only begs the question. 
+
+The contrast between function and procedure is a reflection of the 
+general distinction between describing properties of things and describ- 
+ing how to do things, or, as it is sometimes referred to, the distinction 
+
+
+
+28 
+
+
+
+between declarative knowledge and imperative knowledge. In mathe- 
+matics we are usually concerned with declarative (what is) descriptions, 
+whereas in computer science we are usually concerned with imperative 
+(how to) descriptions. 20 
+
+How does one compute square roots? The most common way is to 
+use Newton's method of successive approximations, which says that 
+whenever we have a guess y for the value of the square root of a number 
+x, we can perform a simple manipulation to get a better guess (one closer 
+to the actual square root) by averaging y with x/y. 21 For example, we 
+can compute the square root of 2 as follows. Suppose our initial guess 
+is 1: 
+
+Guess Quotient Average 
+
+1 (2/1) =2 ((2 + 1)/2) =1.5 
+
+1.5 (2/1.5) = 1.3333 ((1.3333 + 1.5)/2) = 1.4167 
+
+1.4167 (2/1.4167) = 1.4118 ((1.4167 + 1.4118)/2) = 1.4142 
+
+1.4142 
+
+
+
+20 Declarative and imperative descriptions are intimately related, as indeed are math- 
+ematics and computer science. For instance, to say that the answer produced by a pro- 
+gram is "correct" is to make a declarative statement about the program. There is a large 
+amount of research aimed at establishing techniques for proving that programs are 
+correct, and much of the technical difficulty of this subject has to do with negotiating 
+the transition between imperative statements (from which programs are constructed) 
+and declarative statements (which can be used to deduce things). In a related vein, an 
+important current area in programming-language design is the exploration of so-called 
+very high-level languages, in which one actually programs in terms of declarative state- 
+ments. The idea is to make interpreters sophisticated enough so that, given "what is" 
+knowledge specified by the programmer, they can generate "how to" knowledge auto- 
+matically. This cannot be done in general, but there are important areas where progress 
+has been made. We shall revisit this idea in Chapter 4. 
+
+21 This square-root algorithm is actually a special case of Newton's method, which is 
+a general technique for finding roots of equations. The square-root algorithm itself was 
+developed by Heron of Alexandria in the first century a.d. We will see how to express 
+the general Newton's method as a Lisp procedure in Section 1.3.4. 
+
+
+
+29 
+
+
+
+Continuing this process, we obtain better and better approximations to 
+the square root. 
+
+Now let's formalize the process in terms of procedures. We start 
+with a value for the radicand (the number whose square root we are 
+trying to compute) and a value for the guess. If the guess is good enough 
+for our purposes, we are done; if not, we must repeat the process with 
+an improved guess. We write this basic strategy as a procedure: 
+
+(define (sqrt-iter guess x) 
+(if (good-enough? guess x) 
+guess 
+
+(sqrt-iter (improve guess x) x))) 
+
+A guess is improved by averaging it with the quotient of the radicand 
+and the old guess: 
+
+(define (improve guess x) 
+(average guess (/ x guess))) 
+
+where 
+
+(define (average x y) 
+(/ (+ x y) 2)) 
+
+We also have to say what we mean by "good enough." The following 
+will do for illustration, but it is not really a very good test. (See Exercise 
+1.7.) The idea is to improve the answer until it is close enough so that its 
+square differs from the radicand by less than a predetermined tolerance 
+(here 0.001): 22 
+
+(define (good-enough? guess x) 
+
+(< (abs (- (square guess) x)) 0.001)) 
+
+22 We will usually give predicates names ending with question marks, to help us re- 
+member that they are predicates. This is just a stylistic convention. As far as the inter- 
+preter is concerned, the question mark is just an ordinary character. 
+
+
+
+30 
+
+
+
+Finally, we need a way to get started. For instance, we can always guess 
+that the square root of any number is l: 23 
+
+(define (sqrt x) 
+(sqrt-iter 1.0 x)) 
+
+If we type these definitions to the interpreter, we can use sqrt just as 
+we can use any procedure: 
+
+(sqrt 9) 
+
+3.00009155413138 
+
+(sqrt (+ 100 37)) 
+11 .704699917758145 
+
+(sqrt (+ (sqrt 2) (sqrt 3))) 
+1 .7739279023207892 
+
+(square (sqrt 1000)) 
+1000.000369924366 
+
+The sqrt program also illustrates that the simple procedural language 
+we have introduced so far is sufficient for writing any purely numeri- 
+cal program that one could write in, say, C or Pascal. This might seem 
+surprising, since we have not included in our language any iterative 
+
+23 Observe that we express our initial guess as 1.0 rather than 1. This would not make 
+any difference in many Lisp implementations, mit Scheme, however, distinguishes be- 
+tween exact integers and decimal values, and dividing two integers produces a rational 
+number rather than a decimal. For example, dividing 10 by 6 yields 5/3, while dividing 
+10.0 by 6.0 yields 1.6666666666666667. (We will learn how to implement arithmetic on 
+rational numbers in Section 2.1.1.) If we start with an initial guess of 1 in our square-root 
+program, and x is an exact integer, all subsequent values produced in the square-root 
+computation will be rational numbers rather than decimals. Mixed operations on ratio- 
+nal numbers and decimals always yield decimals, so starting with an initial guess of 1.0 
+forces all subsequent values to be decimals. 
+
+
+
+31 
+
+
+
+(looping) constructs that direct the computer to do something over and 
+over again. Sqrt-iter, on the other hand, demonstrates how iteration 
+can be accomplished using no special construct other than the ordinary 
+ability to call a procedure. 24 
+
+Exercise T.6: Alyssa P. Hacker doesn't see why if needs to 
+be provided as a special form. "Why can't I just define it as 
+an ordinary procedure in terms of cond?" she asks. Alyssa's 
+friend Eva Lu Ator claims this can indeed be done, and she 
+defines a new version of i f : 
+
+(define (new-if predicate then-clause else-clause) 
+(cond (predicate then-clause) 
+(else else-clause))) 
+
+Eva demonstrates the program for Alyssa: 
+
+(new-if (= 2 3) 0 5) 
+5 
+
+(new-if (=1 1)0 5) 
+
+0 
+
+Delighted, Alyssa uses new-if to rewrite the square-root 
+program: 
+
+(define (sqrt-iter guess x) 
+(new-if (good-enough? guess x) 
+guess 
+
+(sqrt-iter (improve guess x) x))) 
+
+What happens when Alyssa attempts to use this to compute 
+square roots? Explain. 
+
+24 Readers who are worried about the efficiency issues involved in using procedure 
+calls to implement iteration should note the remarks on "tail recursion" in Section 1.2.1. 
+
+
+
+32 
+
+
+
+Exercise 1.7: The good-enough? test used in computing 
+square roots will not be very effective for finding the square 
+roots of very small numbers. Also, in real computers, arith- 
+metic operations are almost always performed with lim- 
+ited precision. This makes our test inadequate for very large 
+numbers. Explain these statements, with examples showing 
+how the test fails for small and large numbers. An alterna- 
+tive strategy for implementing good-enough? is to watch 
+how guess changes from one iteration to the next and to 
+stop when the change is a very small fraction of the guess. 
+Design a square-root procedure that uses this kind of end 
+test. Does this work better for small and large numbers? 
+
+Exercise T.8: Newton's method for cube roots is based on 
+the fact that if y is an approximation to the cube root of x, 
+then a better approximation is given by the value 
+
+x/y 2 + 2y 
+3 
+
+Use this formula to implement a cube-root procedure anal- 
+ogous to the square-root procedure. (In Section 1.3.4 we will 
+see how to implement Newton's method in general as an 
+abstraction of these square-root and cube-root procedures.) 
+
+1.1.8 Procedures as Black-Box Abstractions 
+
+Sqrt is our first example of a process defined by a set of mutually defined 
+procedures. Notice that the definition of sqrt-iter is recursive; that is, 
+the procedure is defined in terms of itself. The idea of being able to 
+define a procedure in terms of itself may be disturbing; it may seem 
+
+
+
+33 
+
+
+
+sqrt 
+
+
+
+sqrt-iter 
+
+/ \ 
+
+
+
+good-enough 
+/ \ 
+square abs 
+
+
+
+improve 
+\ 
+
+average 
+
+
+
+Figure T. 2: Procedural decomposition of the sqrt program. 
+
+unclear how such a "circular" definition could make sense at all, much 
+less specify a well-defined process to be carried out by a computer. This 
+will be addressed more carefully in Section 1.2. But first let's consider 
+some other important points illustrated by the sqrt example. 
+
+Observe that the problem of computing square roots breaks up nat- 
+urally into a number of subproblems: how to tell whether a guess is 
+good enough, how to improve a guess, and so on. Each of these tasks is 
+accomplished by a separate procedure. The entire sqrt program can be 
+viewed as a cluster of procedures (shown in Figure 1.2) that mirrors the 
+decomposition of the problem into subproblems. 
+
+The importance of this decomposition strategy is not simply that 
+one is dividing the program into parts. After all, we could take any large 
+program and divide it into parts— the first ten lines, the next ten lines, 
+the next ten lines, and so on. Rather, it is crucial that each procedure ac- 
+complishes an identifiable task that can be used as a module in defining 
+other procedures. For example, when we define the good-enough? pro- 
+cedure in terms of square, we are able to regard the square procedure 
+as a "black box." We are not at that moment concerned with how the 
+procedure computes its result, only with the fact that it computes the 
+square. The details of how the square is computed can be suppressed, 
+to be considered at a later time. Indeed, as far as the good-enough? pro- 
+
+
+
+34 
+
+
+
+cedure is concerned, square is not quite a procedure but rather an ab- 
+straction of a procedure, a so-called procedural abstraction. At this level 
+of abstraction, any procedure that computes the square is equally good. 
+
+Thus, considering only the values they return, the following two 
+procedures for squaring a number should be indistinguishable. Each 
+takes a numerical argument and produces the square of that number 
+as the value. 25 
+
+(define (square x) (* x x)) 
+
+(define (square x) (exp (double (log x)))) 
+
+(define (double x) (+ x x)) 
+
+So a procedure definition should be able to suppress detail. The users 
+of the procedure may not have written the procedure themselves, but 
+may have obtained it from another programmer as a black box. A user 
+should not need to know how the procedure is implemented in order to 
+use it. 
+
+Local names 
+
+One detail of a procedure's implementation that should not matter to 
+the user of the procedure is the implementer's choice of names for the 
+procedure's formal parameters. Thus, the following procedures should 
+not be distinguishable: 
+
+(define (square x) (* x x)) 
+(define (square y) (* y y)) 
+
+
+
+It is not even clear which of these procedures is a more efficient implementation. 
+This depends upon the hardware available. There are machines for which the "obvious" 
+implementation is the less efficient one. Consider a machine that has extensive tables 
+of logarithms and antilogarithms stored in a very efficient manner. 
+
+
+
+35 
+
+
+
+This principle— that the meaning of a procedure should be independent 
+of the parameter names used by its author— seems on the surface to 
+be self-evident, but its consequences are profound. The simplest conse- 
+quence is that the parameter names of a procedure must be local to the 
+body of the procedure. For example, we used square in the definition 
+of good-enough? in our square-root procedure: 
+
+(define (good-enough? guess x) 
+(< (abs (- (square guess) x)) 
+0.001)) 
+
+The intention of the author of good-enough? is to determine if the square 
+of the first argument is within a given tolerance of the second argument. 
+We see that the author of good-enough? used the name guess to refer to 
+the first argument and x to refer to the second argument. The argument 
+of square is guess. If the author of square used x (as above) to refer to 
+that argument, we see that the x in good-enough? must be a different x 
+than the one in square. Running the procedure square must not affect 
+the value of x that is used by good-enough?, because that value of x 
+may be needed by good-enough? after square is done computing. 
+
+If the parameters were not local to the bodies of their respective 
+procedures, then the parameter x in square could be confused with the 
+parameter x in good-enough?, and the behavior of good-enough? would 
+depend upon which version of squarewe used. Thus, square would not 
+be the black box we desired. 
+
+A formal parameter of a procedure has a very special role in the 
+procedure definition, in that it doesn't matter what name the formal 
+parameter has. Such a name is called a bound variable, and we say that 
+the procedure definition binds its formal parameters. The meaning of 
+a procedure definition is unchanged if a bound variable is consistently 
+
+
+
+36 
+
+
+
+renamed throughout the definition. 26 If a variable is not bound, we say 
+that it is free. The set of expressions for which a binding defines a name 
+is called the scope of that name. In a procedure definition, the bound 
+variables declared as the formal parameters of the procedure have the 
+body of the procedure as their scope. 
+
+In the definition of good-enough? above, guess and x are bound 
+variables but <, -, abs, and square are free. The meaning of good- 
+enough? should be independent of the names we choose for guess and 
+x so long as they are distinct and different from <, -, abs, and square. 
+(If we renamed guess to abs we would have introduced a bug by cap- 
+turing the variable abs. It would have changed from free to bound.) The 
+meaning of good-enough? is not independent of the names of its free 
+variables, however. It surely depends upon the fact (external to this def- 
+inition) that the symbol abs names a procedure for computing the abso- 
+lute value of a number. Good-enough? will compute a different function 
+if we substitute cos for abs in its definition. 
+
+Internal definitions and block structure 
+
+We have one kind of name isolation available to us so far: The formal 
+parameters of a procedure are local to the body of the procedure. The 
+square-root program illustrates another way in which we would like 
+to control the use of names. The existing program consists of separate 
+procedures: 
+
+(define (sqrt x) 
+
+(sqrt-iter 1.0 x)) 
+(define (sqrt-iter guess x) 
+
+(if (good-enough? guess x) 
+
+26 The concept of consistent renaming is actually subtle and difficult to define for- 
+mally. Famous logicians have made embarrassing errors here. 
+
+
+
+37 
+
+
+
+guess 
+
+(sqrt-iter (improve guess x) x))) 
+(define (good-enough? guess x) 
+
+(< (abs (- (square guess) x)) 0.001)) 
+(define (improve guess x) 
+
+(average guess (/ x guess))) 
+
+The problem with this program is that the only procedure that is impor- 
+tant to users of sqrt is sqrt. The other procedures (sqrt-iter, good- 
+enough?, and improve) only clutter up their minds. They may not define 
+any other procedure called good-enough? as part of another program 
+to work together with the square-root program, because sqrt needs it. 
+The problem is especially severe in the construction of large systems 
+by many separate programmers. For example, in the construction of a 
+large library of numerical procedures, many numerical functions are 
+computed as successive approximations and thus might have proce- 
+dures named good-enough? and improve as auxiliary procedures. We 
+would like to localize the subprocedures, hiding them inside sqrt so 
+that sqrt could coexist with other successive approximations, each hav- 
+ing its own private good-enough? procedure. To make this possible, we 
+allow a procedure to have internal definitions that are local to that pro- 
+cedure. For example, in the square-root problem we can write 
+
+(define (sqrt x) 
+
+(define (good-enough? guess x) 
+
+(< (abs (- (square guess) x)) 0.001)) 
+(define (improve guess x) (average guess (/ x guess))) 
+(define (sqrt-iter guess x) 
+(if (good-enough? guess x) 
+guess 
+
+(sqrt-iter (improve guess x) x))) 
+(sqrt-iter 1.0 x)) 
+
+
+
+38 
+
+
+
+Such nesting of definitions, called block structure, is basically the right 
+solution to the simplest name-packaging problem. But there is a bet- 
+ter idea lurking here. In addition to internalizing the definitions of the 
+auxiliary procedures, we can simplify them. Since x is bound in the defi- 
+nition of sqrt, the procedures good-enough?, improve, and sqrt-iter, 
+which are defined internally to sqrt, are in the scope of x. Thus, it is 
+not necessary to pass x explicitly to each of these procedures. Instead, 
+we allow x to be a free variable in the internal definitions, as shown be- 
+low. Then x gets its value from the argument with which the enclosing 
+procedure sqrt is called. This discipline is called lexical scoping. 27 
+
+(define (sqrt x) 
+
+(define (good-enough? guess) 
+
+(< (abs (- (square guess) x)) 0.001)) 
+(define (improve guess) 
+
+(average guess (/ x guess))) 
+(define (sqrt-iter guess) 
+(if (good-enough? guess) 
+guess 
+
+(sqrt-iter (improve guess)))) 
+(sqrt-iter 1.0)) 
+
+We will use block structure extensively to help us break up large pro- 
+grams into tractable pieces. 28 The idea of block structure originated with 
+the programming language Algol 60. It appears in most advanced pro- 
+gramming languages and is an important tool for helping to organize 
+the construction of large programs. 
+
+Lexical scoping dictates that free variables in a procedure are taken to refer to 
+bindings made by enclosing procedure definitions; that is, they are looked up in the 
+environment in which the procedure was defined. We will see how this works in detail 
+in chapter 3 when we study environments and the detailed behavior of the interpreter. 
+
+28 Embedded definitions must come first in a procedure body. The management is not 
+responsible for the consequences of running programs that intertwine definition and 
+use. 
+
+39 
+
+
+
+1 .2 Procedures and the Processes They Generate 
+
+
+
+We have now considered the elements of programming: We have used 
+primitive arithmetic operations, we have combined these operations, 
+and we have abstracted these composite operations by defining them as 
+compound procedures. But that is not enough to enable us to say that 
+we know how to program. Our situation is analogous to that of someone 
+who has learned the rules for how the pieces move in chess but knows 
+nothing of typical openings, tactics, or strategy. Like the novice chess 
+player, we don't yet know the common patterns of usage in the do- 
+main. We lack the knowledge of which moves are worth making (which 
+procedures are worth defining). We lack the experience to predict the 
+consequences of making a move (executing a procedure). 
+
+The ability to visualize the consequences of the actions under con- 
+sideration is crucial to becoming an expert programmer, just as it is in 
+any synthetic, creative activity. In becoming an expert photographer, 
+for example, one must learn how to look at a scene and know how dark 
+each region will appear on a print for each possible choice of exposure 
+and development conditions. Only then can one reason backward, plan- 
+ning framing, lighting, exposure, and development to obtain the desired 
+effects. So it is with programming, where we are planning the course 
+of action to be taken by a process and where we control the process by 
+means of a program. To become experts, we must learn to visualize the 
+processes generated by various types of procedures. Only after we have 
+developed such a skill can we learn to reliably construct programs that 
+exhibit the desired behavior. 
+
+A procedure is a pattern for the local evolution of a computational 
+process. It specifies how each stage of the process is built upon the previ- 
+ous stage. We would like to be able to make statements about the overall, 
+
+
+
+40 
+
+
+
+or global, behavior of a process whose local evolution has been specified 
+by a procedure. This is very difficult to do in general, but we can at least 
+try to describe some typical patterns of process evolution. 
+
+In this section we will examine some common "shapes" for pro- 
+cesses generated by simple procedures. We will also investigate the 
+rates at which these processes consume the important computational 
+resources of time and space. The procedures we will consider are very 
+simple. Their role is like that played by test patterns in photography: as 
+oversimplified prototypical patterns, rather than practical examples in 
+their own right. 
+
+1.2.1 Linear Recursion and Iteration 
+
+We begin by considering the factorial function, defined by 
+
+n\ - n • (n- 1) • (n- 2)---3 • 2 • 1. 
+
+There are many ways to compute factorials. One way is to make use 
+of the observation that n\ is equal to n times (n - 1)! for any positive 
+integer n: 
+
+n\ - n ■ [(n - 1) • (n - 2) • • • 3 • 2 • 1] = n • (n - 1)!. 
+
+Thus, we can compute n\ by computing (n - 1)! and multiplying the 
+result by n. If we add the stipulation that 1 ! is equal to 1, this observation 
+translates directly into a procedure: 
+
+(define (factorial n) 
+(if (= n 1) 
+1 
+
+(* n (factorial (- n 1))))) 
+
+
+
+41 
+
+
+
+(factorial 6) > 
+
+(* 6 (factorial 5)) 
+
+(* 6 (* 5 (factorial 4))) 
+
+(* 6 (* 5 (* 4 (factorial 3)))) 
+
+(* 6 (* 5 (* 4 (* 3 (factorial 2))))) 
+
+(* 6 (* 5 (* 4 (* 3 (* 2 (factorial 1)))))) J 
+
+(* 6 (* 5 (* 4 (* 3 (* 2 1))))) 
+
+(* 6 (* 5 (* 4 (* 3 2)))) ^^^^ 
+
+(* 6 (* 5 (* 4 6))) 
+
+(* 6 (* 5 24)) ^^^^ 
+
+(* 6 120) ^^-^^ 
+
+720 < 
+
+Figure T.3: A linear recursive process for computing 6!. 
+
+We can use the substitution model of Section 1.1.5 to watch this proce- 
+dure in action computing 6!, as shown in Figure 1.3. 
+
+Now let's take a different perspective on computing factorials. We 
+could describe a rule for computing n\ by specifying that we first mul- 
+tiply 1 by 2, then multiply the result by 3, then by 4, and so on until we 
+reach n. More formally we maintain a running product, together with 
+a counter that counts from 1 up to n. We can describe the computation 
+by saying that the counter and the product simultaneously change from 
+one step to the next according to the rule 
+
+product <— counter * product 
+counter <— counter + 1 
+
+and stipulating that n\ is the value of the product when the counter 
+exceeds n. 
+
+Once again, we can recast our description as a procedure for com- 
+puting factorials: 29 
+
+In a real program we would probably use the block structure introduced in the last 
+section to hide the definition of fact-iter: 
+
+42 
+
+
+
+(factorial 6) > ^ 
+
+(fact-iter 1 1 6) 
+(fact-iter 1 2 6) 
+(fact-iter 2 3 6) 
+(fact-iter 6 4 6) 
+(fact-iter 24 5 6) 
+(fact-iter 120 6 6) 
+(fact-iter 720 7 6) 
+720 < ^ 
+
+Figure T.4: A linear iterative process for computing 6!. 
+
+
+
+(define (factorial n) 
+
+(fact-iter 1 1 n)) 
+(define (fact-iter product counter max-count) 
+
+(if (> counter max-count) 
+product 
+
+(fact-iter (* counter product) 
+(+ counter 1) 
+max-count))) 
+
+As before, we can use the substitution model to visualize the process of 
+computing 6!, as shown in Figure 1.4. 
+
+(define (factorial n) 
+
+(define (iter product counter) 
+(if (> counter n) 
+product 
+
+(iter (* counter product) 
+(+ counter 1)))) 
+
+(iter 1 1)) 
+
+We avoided doing this here so as to minimize the number of things to think about at 
+once. 
+
+
+
+43 
+
+
+
+Compare the two processes. From one point of view, they seem 
+hardly different at all. Both compute the same mathematical function on 
+the same domain, and each requires a number of steps proportional to n 
+to compute n\. Indeed, both processes even carry out the same sequence 
+of multiplications, obtaining the same sequence of partial products. On 
+the other hand, when we consider the "shapes" of the two processes, we 
+find that they evolve quite differently. 
+
+Consider the first process. The substitution model reveals a shape of 
+expansion followed by contraction, indicated by the arrow in Figure 1.3. 
+The expansion occurs as the process builds up a chain of deferred oper- 
+ations (in this case, a chain of multiplications). The contraction occurs 
+as the operations are actually performed. This type of process, charac- 
+terized by a chain of deferred operations, is called a recursive process. 
+Carrying out this process requires that the interpreter keep track of the 
+operations to be performed later on. In the computation of n\, the length 
+of the chain of deferred multiplications, and hence the amount of infor- 
+mation needed to keep track of it, grows linearly with n (is proportional 
+to n), just like the number of steps. Such a process is called a linear re- 
+cursive process. 
+
+By contrast, the second process does not grow and shrink. At each 
+step, all we need to keep track of, for any n, are the current values of 
+the variables product, counter, and max-count. We call this an iterative 
+process. In general, an iterative process is one whose state can be sum- 
+marized by a fixed number of state variables, together with a fixed rule 
+that describes how the state variables should be updated as the process 
+moves from state to state and an (optional) end test that specifies con- 
+ditions under which the process should terminate. In computing «!, the 
+number of steps required grows linearly with n. Such a process is called 
+a linear iterative process. 
+
+
+
+44 
+
+
+
+The contrast between the two processes can be seen in another way. 
+In the iterative case, the program variables provide a complete descrip- 
+tion of the state of the process at any point. If we stopped the compu- 
+tation between steps, all we would need to do to resume the computa- 
+tion is to supply the interpreter with the values of the three program 
+variables. Not so with the recursive process. In this case there is some 
+additional "hidden" information, maintained by the interpreter and not 
+contained in the program variables, which indicates "where the process 
+is" in negotiating the chain of deferred operations. The longer the chain, 
+the more information must be maintained. 30 
+
+In contrasting iteration and recursion, we must be careful not to 
+confuse the notion of a recursive process with the notion of a recursive 
+procedure. When we describe a procedure as recursive, we are referring 
+to the syntactic fact that the procedure definition refers (either directly 
+or indirectly) to the procedure itself. But when we describe a process 
+as following a pattern that is, say, linearly recursive, we are speaking 
+about how the process evolves, not about the syntax of how a procedure 
+is written. It may seem disturbing that we refer to a recursive procedure 
+such as f act-iter as generating an iterative process. However, the pro- 
+cess really is iterative: Its state is captured completely by its three state 
+variables, and an interpreter need keep track of only three variables in 
+order to execute the process. 
+
+One reason that the distinction between process and procedure may 
+be confusing is that most implementations of common languages (in- 
+cluding Ada, Pascal, and C) are designed in such a way that the interpre- 
+tation of any recursive procedure consumes an amount of memory that 
+
+30 When we discuss the implementation of procedures on register machines in Chap- 
+ter 5, we will see that any iterative process can be realized "in hardware" as a machine 
+that has a fixed set of registers and no auxiliary memory. In contrast, realizing a re- 
+cursive process requires a machine that uses an auxiliary data structure known as a 
+stack. 
+
+45 
+
+
+
+grows with the number of procedure calls, even when the process de- 
+scribed is, in principle, iterative. As a consequence, these languages can 
+describe iterative processes only by resorting to special-purpose "loop- 
+ing constructs" such as do, repeat, until, for, and while. The imple- 
+mentation of Scheme we shall consider in Chapter 5 does not share this 
+defect. It will execute an iterative process in constant space, even if the 
+iterative process is described by a recursive procedure. An implemen- 
+tation with this properly is called tail-recursive. With a tail-recursive 
+implementation, iteration can be expressed using the ordinary proce- 
+dure call mechanism, so that special iteration constructs are useful only 
+as syntactic sugar. 31 
+
+Exercise T .9: Each of the following two procedures defines 
+a method for adding two positive integers in terms of the 
+procedures inc, which increments its argument by 1, and 
+dec, which decrements its argument by 1. 
+
+(define (+ a b) 
+
+(if (= a 0) b (inc (+ (dec a) b)))) 
+(define (+ a b) 
+
+(if (= a 0) b (+ (dec a) (inc b)))) 
+
+Using the substitution model, illustrate the process gener- 
+ated by each procedure in evaluating (+ 4 5). Are these 
+processes iterative or recursive? 
+
+31 Tail recursion has long been known as a compiler optimization trick. A coherent 
+semantic basis for tail recursion was provided by Carl Hewitt (1977), who explained it in 
+terms of the "message-passing" model of computation that we shall discuss in Chapter 
+3. Inspired by this, Gerald Jay Sussman and Guy Lewis Steele Jr. (see Steele and Sussman 
+1975) constructed a tail-recursive interpreter for Scheme. Steele later showed how tail 
+recursion is a consequence of the natural way to compile procedure calls (Steele 1977). 
+The ieee standard for Scheme requires that Scheme implementations be tail-recursive. 
+
+
+
+46 
+
+
+
+Exercise T.TO: The following procedure computes a math- 
+ematical function called Ackermann's function. 
+
+(define (A x y) 
+(cond ((= y 0) 0) 
+
+((= x 0) (* 2 y)) 
+((= V D 2) 
+
+(else (A (- x 1) (A x (- y 1)))))) 
+
+What are the values of the following expressions? 
+
+(A 1 10) 
+(A 2 4) 
+(A 3 3) 
+
+Consider the following procedures, where A is the proce- 
+dure denned above: 
+
+(define (f n) (A 0 n)) 
+(define (g n) (A 1 n)) 
+(define (h n) (A 2 n)) 
+(define (k n) (* 5 n n)) 
+
+Give concise mathematical definitions for the functions com- 
+puted by the procedures f , g, and h for positive integer val- 
+ues of n. For example, (k n) computes 5n 2 . 
+
+1.2.2 Tree Recursion 
+
+Another common pattern of computation is called tree recursion. As an 
+example, consider computing the sequence of Fibonacci numbers, in 
+which each number is the sum of the preceding two: 
+
+0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, .... 
+
+
+
+47 
+
+
+
+In general, the Fibonacci numbers can be defined by the rule 
+
+
+
+Fib(n) = • 
+
+
+
+0 
+
+
+
+1 
+
+
+
+if n - 0, 
+if n = 1, 
+
+
+
+Fib(« - 1) + Fib(« - 2) 
+
+
+
+otherwise. 
+
+
+
+We can immediately translate this definition into a recursive procedure 
+for computing Fibonacci numbers: 
+
+(define (fib n) 
+(cond ((= n 0) 0) 
+((= n 1) 1) 
+
+(else (+ (fib (- n 1)) 
+
+(fib (- n 2)))))) 
+
+Consider the pattern of this computation. To compute (fib 5), we com- 
+pute (fib 4) and (fib 3). To compute (fib 4), we compute (fib 3) 
+and (fib 2). In general, the evolved process looks like a tree, as shown 
+in Figure 1.5. Notice that the branches split into two at each level (ex- 
+cept at the bottom); this reflects the fact that the fib procedure calls 
+itself twice each time it is invoked. 
+
+This procedure is instructive as a prototypical tree recursion, but it 
+is a terrible way to compute Fibonacci numbers because it does so much 
+redundant computation. Notice in Figure 1.5 that the entire computation 
+of (fib 3)— almost half the work— is duplicated. In fact, it is not hard to 
+show that the number of times the procedure will compute (fib 1 ) or 
+(fib 0) (the number of leaves in the above tree, in general) is precisely 
+Fib(n + 1). To get an idea of how bad this is, one can show that the value 
+of Fib(n) grows exponentially with n. More precisely (see Exercise 1.13), 
+Fib(n) is the closest integer to <p"/V5, where 
+
+
+
+1 + V5 
+
+
+
+<p = 
+
+
+
+« 1.6180 
+
+
+
+2 
+
+
+
+48 
+
+
+
+
+Figure T.5: The tree-recursive process generated in com- 
+puting (fib 5). 
+
+
+
+is the golden ratio, which satisfies the equation 
+
+(p 2 = (p + 1. 
+
+Thus, the process uses a number of steps that grows exponentially with 
+the input. On the other hand, the space required grows only linearly 
+with the input, because we need keep track only of which nodes are 
+above us in the tree at any point in the computation. In general, the 
+number of steps required by a tree-recursive process will be propor- 
+tional to the number of nodes in the tree, while the space required will 
+be proportional to the maximum depth of the tree. 
+
+We can also formulate an iterative process for computing the Fi- 
+bonacci numbers. The idea is to use a pair of integers a and b, initialized 
+to Fib(l) = 1 and Fib(O) = 0, and to repeatedly apply the simultaneous 
+
+
+
+49 
+
+
+
+transformations 
+
+a <— a + b, 
+b <— a. 
+
+It is not hard to show that, after applying this transformation n times, a 
+and b will be equal, respectively, to Fib(n + 1) and Fib(n). Thus, we can 
+compute Fibonacci numbers iteratively using the procedure 
+
+(define (fib n) 
+
+(fib-iter 1 0 n)) 
+(define (fib-iter a b count) 
+
+(if (= count 0) 
+b 
+
+(fib-iter (+ a b) a (- count 1)))) 
+
+This second method for computing Fib(n) is a linear iteration. The differ- 
+ence in number of steps required by the two methods— one linear in n, 
+one growing as fast as Fib(n) itself— is enormous, even for small inputs. 
+
+One should not conclude from this that tree-recursive processes 
+are useless. When we consider processes that operate on hierarchically 
+structured data rather than numbers, we will find that tree recursion is 
+a natural and powerful tool. 32 But even in numerical operations, tree- 
+recursive processes can be useful in helping us to understand and de- 
+sign programs. For instance, although the first fib procedure is much 
+less efficient than the second one, it is more straightforward, being little 
+more than a translation into Lisp of the definition of the Fibonacci se- 
+quence. To formulate the iterative algorithm required noticing that the 
+computation could be recast as an iteration with three state variables. 
+
+
+
+An example of this was hinted at in Section 1.1.3. The interpreter itself evaluates 
+expressions using a tree-recursive process. 
+
+
+
+50 
+
+
+
+Example: Counting change 
+
+It takes only a bit of cleverness to come up with the iterative Fibonacci 
+algorithm. In contrast, consider the following problem: How many dif- 
+ferent ways can we make change of $1.00, given half-dollars, quarters, 
+dimes, nickels, and pennies? More generally, can we write a procedure 
+to compute the number of ways to change any given amount of money? 
+
+This problem has a simple solution as a recursive procedure. Sup- 
+pose we think of the types of coins available as arranged in some order. 
+Then the following relation holds: 
+
+The number of ways to change amount a using n kinds of coins 
+equals 
+
+• the number of ways to change amount a using all but the first 
+kind of coin, plus 
+
+• the number of ways to change amount a - d using all n kinds of 
+coins, where d is the denomination of the first kind of coin. 
+
+To see why this is true, observe that the ways to make change can be 
+divided into two groups: those that do not use any of the first kind of 
+coin, and those that do. Therefore, the total number of ways to make 
+change for some amount is equal to the number of ways to make change 
+for the amount without using any of the first kind of coin, plus the 
+number of ways to make change assuming that we do use the first kind 
+of coin. But the latter number is equal to the number of ways to make 
+change for the amount that remains after using a coin of the first kind. 
+
+Thus, we can recursively reduce the problem of changing a given 
+amount to the problem of changing smaller amounts using fewer kinds 
+of coins. Consider this reduction rule carefully, and convince yourself 
+
+
+
+51 
+
+
+
+that we can use it to describe an algorithm if we specify the following 
+degenerate cases: 33 
+
+• If a is exactly 0, we should count that as 1 way to make change. 
+
+• If a is less than 0, we should count that as 0 ways to make change. 
+
+• If n is 0, we should count that as 0 ways to make change. 
+
+We can easily translate this description into a recursive procedure: 
+
+(define (count-change amount) (cc amount 5)) 
+(define (cc amount kinds-of-coins) 
+(cond ((= amount 0) 1) 
+
+((or (< amount 0) (= kinds-of-coins 0)) 0) 
+(else (+ (cc amount 
+
+(- kinds-of-coins 1)) 
+(cc (- amount 
+
+(first-denomination 
+kinds-of-coins)) 
+kinds-of-coins))))) 
+(define (first-denomination kinds-of-coins) 
+(cond ((= kinds-of-coins 1) 1) 
+((= kinds-of-coins 2) 5) 
+((= kinds-of-coins 3) 10) 
+((= kinds-of-coins 4) 25) 
+((= kinds-of-coins 5) 50))) 
+
+(The first-denomination procedure takes as input the number of kinds 
+of coins available and returns the denomination of the first kind. Here 
+we are thinking of the coins as arranged in order from largest to small- 
+est, but any order would do as well.) We can now answer our original 
+question about changing a dollar: 
+
+33 For example, work through in detail how the reduction rule applies to the problem 
+of making change for 10 cents using pennies and nickels. 
+
+
+
+52 
+
+
+
+(count-change 100) 
+292 
+
+
+
+Count-change generates a tree-recursive process with redundancies sim- 
+ilar to those in our first implementation of fib. (It will take quite a while 
+for that 292 to be computed.) On the other hand, it is not obvious how 
+to design a better algorithm for computing the result, and we leave this 
+problem as a challenge. The observation that a tree-recursive process 
+may be highly inefficient but often easy to specify and understand has 
+led people to propose that one could get the best of both worlds by 
+designing a "smart compiler" that could transform tree-recursive pro- 
+cedures into more efficient procedures that compute the same result. 34 
+
+Exercise T.T T: A function / is defined by the rule that 
+
+
+
+Write a procedure that computes / by means of a recursive 
+process. Write a procedure that computes / by means of an 
+iterative process. 
+
+Exercise T.T 2: The following pattern of numbers is called 
+Pascal's triangle. 
+
+34 One approach to coping with redundant computations is to arrange matters so 
+that we automatically construct a table of values as they are computed. Each time we 
+are asked to apply the procedure to some argument, we first look to see if the value 
+is already stored in the table, in which case we avoid performing the redundant com- 
+putation. This strategy, known as tabulation or memoization, can be implemented in a 
+straightforward way. Tabulation can sometimes be used to transform processes that 
+require an exponential number of steps (such as count-change) into processes whose 
+space and time requirements grow linearly with the input. See Exercise 3.27. 
+
+
+
+
+f(n - 1) + 2f(n - 2) + 3f(n - 3) if n > 3. 
+
+
+
+53 
+
+
+
+1 
+
+1 1 
+
+1 2 1 
+13 3 1 
+1 4 6 4 1 
+
+The numbers at the edge of the triangle are all 1, and each 
+number inside the triangle is the sum of the two numbers 
+above it. 35 Write a procedure that computes elements of 
+Pascal's triangle by means of a recursive process. 
+
+Exercise T.T3: Prove that Fib(n) is the closest integer to 
+<p"/V5, where <p = (1 + V5)/2. Hint: Let ^ = (1 - V5)/2. 
+Use induction and the definition of the Fibonacci numbers 
+(see Section 1.2.2) to prove that Fib(n) = (<p n - i^ n )/V5. 
+
+
+
+1.2.3 Orders of Growth 
+
+The previous examples illustrate that processes can differ considerably 
+in the rates at which they consume computational resources. One con- 
+venient way to describe this difference is to use the notion of order of 
+growth to obtain a gross measure of the resources required by a process 
+as the inputs become larger. 
+
+35 The elements of Pascal's triangle are called the binomial coefficients, because the 
+n" 1 row consists of the coefficients of the terms in the expansion of (x + y) n . This pat- 
+tern for computing the coefficients appeared in Blaise Pascal's 1653 seminal work on 
+probability theory, Traite du triangle arithmetique. According to Knuth (1973), the same 
+pattern appears in the Szu-yuen Yil-chien ("The Precious Mirror of the Four Elements"), 
+published by the Chinese mathematician Chu Shih-chieh in 1303, in the works of the 
+twelfth-century Persian poet and mathematician Omar Khayyam, and in the works of 
+the twelfth-century Hindu mathematician Bhascara Acharya. 
+
+
+
+54 
+
+
+
+Let n be a parameter that measures the size of the problem, and let 
+R(n) be the amount of resources the process requires for a problem of 
+size n. In our previous examples we took n to be the number for which 
+a given function is to be computed, but there are other possibilities. For 
+instance, if our goal is to compute an approximation to the square root of 
+a number, we might take n to be the number of digits accuracy required. 
+For matrix multiplication we might take n to be the number of rows in 
+the matrices. In general there are a number of properties of the problem 
+with respect to which it will be desirable to analyze a given process. 
+Similarly, R(n) might measure the number of internal storage registers 
+used, the number of elementary machine operations performed, and so 
+on. In computers that do only a fixed number of operations at a time, the 
+time required will be proportional to the number of elementary machine 
+operations performed. 
+
+We say that R(n) has order of growth @(f(n)), written R(n) = @{f(n)) 
+(pronounced "theta of /(«)"), if there are positive constants k\ and k 2 
+independent of n such that k\f{n) < R(n) < ^2/(1) for any sufficiently 
+large value of n. (In other words, for large n, the value R(n) is sandwiched 
+between kif(n) and k 2 f(n).) 
+
+For instance, with the linear recursive process for computing facto- 
+rial described in Section 1.2.1 the number of steps grows proportionally 
+to the input n. Thus, the steps required for this process grows as 0(n). 
+We also saw that the space required grows as 0(n). For the iterative 
+factorial, the number of steps is still 0(n) but the space is 0(1)— that 
+is, constant. 36 The tree-recursive Fibonacci computation requires ®(<p n ) 
+
+36 These statements mask a great deal of oversimplification. For instance, if we count 
+process steps as "machine operations" we are making the assumption that the number 
+of machine operations needed to perform, say, a multiplication is independent of the 
+size of the numbers to be multiplied, which is false if the numbers are sufficiently large. 
+Similar remarks hold for the estimates of space. Like the design and description of a 
+process, the analysis of a process can be carried out at various levels of abstraction. 
+
+55 
+
+
+
+steps and space 0(n), where <p is the golden ratio described in Section 
+1.2.2. 
+
+Orders of growth provide only a crude description of the behavior 
+of a process. For example, a process requiring n 2 steps and a process 
+requiring lOOOn 2 steps and a process requiring 3n 2 + lOn + 17 steps all 
+have 0(n 2 ) order of growth. On the other hand, order of growth provides 
+a useful indication of how we may expect the behavior of the process to 
+change as we change the size of the problem. For a Q(n) (linear) process, 
+doubling the size will roughly double the amount of resources used. For 
+an exponential process, each increment in problem size will multiply the 
+resource utilization by a constant factor. In the remainder of Section 1.2 
+we will examine two algorithms whose order of growth is logarithmic, 
+so that doubling the problem size increases the resource requirement 
+by a constant amount. 
+
+Exercise 1.14: Draw the tree illustrating the process gen- 
+erated by the count-change procedure of Section 1.2.2 in 
+making change for 11 cents. What are the orders of growth 
+of the space and number of steps used by this process as 
+the amount to be changed increases? 
+
+Exercise 1.15: The sine of an angle (specified in radians) 
+can be computed by making use of the approximation sin x ~ x 
+if x is sufficiently small, and the trigonometric identity 
+
+x x 
+
+sin x = 3 sin 4 sin — 
+
+3 3 
+
+to reduce the size of the argument of sin. (For purposes of 
+this exercise an angle is considered "sufficiently small" if its 
+magnitude is not greater than 0.1 radians.) These ideas are 
+incorporated in the following procedures: 
+
+
+
+56 
+
+
+
+(define (cube x) (* x x x)) 
+
+(define (p x) (- (* 3 x) (* 4 (cube x)))) 
+
+(define (sine angle) 
+
+(if (not (> (abs angle) 0.1)) 
+angle 
+
+(p (sine (/ angle 3.0))))) 
+
+a. How many times is the procedure p applied when (sine 
+12.15) is evaluated? 
+
+b. What is the order of growth in space and number of 
+steps (as a function of a) used by the process generated 
+by the sine procedure when (sine a) is evaluated? 
+
+1.2.4 Exponentiation 
+
+Consider the problem of computing the exponential of a given number. 
+We would like a procedure that takes as arguments a base b and a posi- 
+tive integer exponent n and computes b n . One way to do this is via the 
+recursive definition 
+
+b n = b-b n -\ 
+b° = 1, 
+
+which translates readily into the procedure 
+
+(define (expt b n) 
+(if (= n 0) 
+1 
+
+(* b (expt b (- n 1))))) 
+
+This is a linear recursive process, which requires 0(n) steps and 0(n) 
+space. Just as with factorial, we can readily formulate an equivalent lin- 
+ear iteration: 
+
+
+
+57 
+
+
+
+(define (expt b n) 
+
+(expt-iter b n 1)) 
+(define (expt-iter b counter product) 
+(if (= counter 0) 
+product 
+(expt-iter b 
+
+(- counter 1) 
+(* b product)))) 
+
+This version requires 0(n) steps and 0(1) space. 
+
+We can compute exponentials in fewer steps by using successive 
+squaring. For instance, rather than computing b s as 
+
+b-(b-(b-(b-(b-(b-(b- &)))))) , 
+
+we can compute it using three multiplications: 
+
+b 2 = b ■ b, 
+b 4 = b 2 - b 2 , 
+b 8 = b 4 - b 4 . 
+
+This method works fine for exponents that are powers of 2. We can 
+also take advantage of successive squaring in computing exponentials 
+in general if we use the rule 
+
+b n = b ■ b n - x if n is odd. 
+
+We can express this method as a procedure: 
+
+(define (fast-expt b n) 
+(cond ((= n 0) 1) 
+
+((even? n) (square (fast-expt b (/ n 2)))) 
+(else (* b (fast-expt b (- n 1)))))) 
+
+
+
+58 
+
+
+
+where the predicate to test whether an integer is even is defined in terms 
+of the primitive procedure remainder by 
+
+(define (even? n) 
+
+(= (remainder n 2) 0)) 
+
+The process evolved by fast-expt grows logarithmically with n in both 
+space and number of steps. To see this, observe that computing b 2n us- 
+ing fast-expt requires only one more multiplication than computing 
+b". The size of the exponent we can compute therefore doubles (approx- 
+imately) with every new multiplication we are allowed. Thus, the num- 
+ber of multiplications required for an exponent of n grows about as fast 
+as the logarithm of n to the base 2. The process has 0(log n) growth. 37 
+
+The difference between 0(log n) growth and 0(n) growth becomes 
+striking as n becomes large. For example, fast-expt for n = 1000 re- 
+quires only 14 multiplications. 38 It is also possible to use the idea of 
+successive squaring to devise an iterative algorithm that computes ex- 
+ponentials with a logarithmic number of steps (see Exercise 1.16), al- 
+though, as is often the case with iterative algorithms, this is not written 
+down so straightforwardly as the recursive algorithm. 39 
+
+Exercise T.T6: Design a procedure that evolves an itera- 
+tive exponentiation process that uses successive squaring 
+
+37 More precisely, the number of multiplications required is equal to 1 less than the 
+log base 2 of n plus the number of ones in the binary representation of n. This total 
+is always less than twice the log base 2 of n. The arbitrary constants k\ and k2 in the 
+definition of order notation imply that, for a logarithmic process, the base to which 
+logarithms are taken does not matter, so all such processes are described as ©(log n). 
+
+38 You may wonder why anyone would care about raising numbers to the 1000th 
+power. See Section 1.2.6. 
+
+39 This iterative algorithm is ancient. It appears in the Chandah-sutra by Acharya 
+Pingala, written before 200 B.C. See Knuth 1981, section 4.6.3, for a full discussion and 
+analysis of this and other methods of exponentiation. 
+
+
+
+59 
+
+
+
+and uses a logarithmic number of steps, as does f ast-expt. 
+(Hint: Using the observation that (b n/2 ) 2 = (b 2 ) n/2 , keep, 
+along with the exponent n and the base b, an additional 
+state variable a, and define the state transformation in such 
+away that the product ab n is unchanged from state to state. 
+At the beginning of the process a is taken to be 1, and the 
+answer is given by the value of a at the end of the process. 
+In general, the technique of defining an invariant quantity 
+that remains unchanged from state to state is a powerful 
+way to think about the design of iterative algorithms.) 
+
+Exercise T.T7: The exponentiation algorithms in this sec- 
+tion are based on performing exponentiation by means of 
+repeated multiplication. In a similar way, one can perform 
+integer multiplication by means of repeated addition. The 
+following multiplication procedure (in which it is assumed 
+that our language can only add, not multiply) is analogous 
+to the expt procedure: 
+
+(define (* a b) 
+
+(if (= b 0) 
+
+0 
+
+(+ a (* a (- b 1))))) 
+
+This algorithm takes a number of steps that is linear in b. 
+Now suppose we include, together with addition, opera- 
+tions double, which doubles an integer, and halve, which 
+divides an (even) integer by 2. Using these, design a mul- 
+tiplication procedure analogous to fast-expt that uses a 
+logarithmic number of steps. 
+
+
+
+60 
+
+
+
+Exercise T.T8: Using the results of Exercise 1.16 and Exer- 
+cise 1.17, devise a procedure that generates an iterative pro- 
+cess for multiplying two integers in terms of adding, dou- 
+bling, and halving and uses a logarithmic number of steps. 40 
+
+Exercise 1.19: There is a clever algorithm for computing 
+the Fibonacci numbers in a logarithmic number of steps. 
+Recall the transformation of the state variables a and b in 
+the fib-iter process of Section 1.2.2: a <— a + b and b <— a. 
+Call this transformation T, and observe that applying T 
+over and over again n times, starting with 1 and 0, produces 
+the pair Fib(n + 1) and Fib(n). In other words, the Fibonacci 
+numbers are produced by applying T n , the n th power of the 
+transformation T, starting with the pair (1,0). Now consider 
+T to be the special case of p — 0 and q = 1 in a family of 
+transformations T pq , where T pq transforms the pair (a, b) 
+according to a <— bq + aq + ap and b <— bp + aq. Show 
+that if we apply such a transformation T pq twice, the effect 
+is the same as using a single transformation Tp'q' of the 
+same form, and compute p' and q' in terms of p and q. This 
+gives us an explicit way to square these transformations, 
+and thus we can compute T" using successive squaring, as 
+in the fast-expt procedure. Put this all together to com- 
+plete the following procedure, which runs in a logarithmic 
+number of steps: 41 
+
+40 1his algorithm, which is sometimes known as the "Russian peasant method" of 
+multiplication, is ancient. Examples of its use are found in the Rhind Papyrus, one of the 
+two oldest mathematical documents in existence, written about 1700 B.C. (and copied 
+from an even older document) by an Egyptian scribe named A'h-mose. 
+
+41 This exercise was suggested to us by Joe Stoy, based on an example in Kaldewaij 
+1990. 
+
+61 
+
+
+
+(define (fib n) 
+
+(fib-iter 1 0 0 1 n)) 
+(define (fib-iter a b p q count) 
+(cond ((= count 0) b) 
+((even? count) 
+(fib-iter a 
+b 
+
+(??) ; compute p' 
+(??) ; compute q' 
+(/ count 2))) 
+(else (fib-iter (+ (* b q) (* a q) (* a p)) 
+(+ (* bp) (* a q)) 
+P 
+
+q 
+
+(- count 1))))) 
+1.2.5 Greatest Common Divisors 
+
+The greatest common divisor (gcd) of two integers a and b is denned to 
+be the largest integer that divides both a and b with no remainder. For 
+example, the gcd of 16 and 28 is 4. In Chapter 2, when we investigate 
+how to implement rational-number arithmetic, we will need to be able 
+to compute gcds in order to reduce rational numbers to lowest terms. 
+(To reduce a rational number to lowest terms, we must divide both the 
+numerator and the denominator by their gcd. For example, 16/28 re- 
+duces to 4/7.) One way to find the gcd of two integers is to factor them 
+and search for common factors, but there is a famous algorithm that is 
+much more efficient. 
+
+The idea of the algorithm is based on the observation that, if r is the 
+remainder when a is divided by b, then the common divisors of a and b 
+are precisely the same as the common divisors of b and r. Thus, we can 
+
+
+
+62 
+
+
+
+use the equation 
+
+GCD(a,b) = GCD(b,r) 
+
+to successively reduce the problem of computing a gcd to the problem 
+of computing the gcd of smaller and smaller pairs of integers. For ex- 
+ample, 
+
+GCD(206,40) = GCD(40,6) 
+= GCD(6,4) 
+= GCD(4,2) 
+= GCD(2,0) 
+= 2 
+
+reduces gcd(206, 40) to gcd(2, 0), which is 2. It is possible to show that 
+starting with any two positive integers and performing repeated reduc- 
+tions will always eventually produce a pair where the second number is 
+0. Then the gcd is the other number in the pair. This method for com- 
+puting the gcd is known as Euclid's Algorithm. 42 
+
+It is easy to express Euclid's Algorithm as a procedure: 
+
+(define (gcd a b) 
+(if (= b 0) 
+a 
+
+(gcd b (remainder a b)))) 
+
+This generates an iterative process, whose number of steps grows as the 
+logarithm of the numbers involved. 
+
+42 Euclid's Algorithm is so called because it appears in Euclid's Elements (Book 7, ca. 
+300 B.C.). According to Knuth (1973), it can be considered the oldest known nontrivial 
+algorithm. The ancient Egyptian method of multiplication (Exercise 1.18) is surely older, 
+but, as Knuth explains, Euclid's algorithm is the oldest known to have been presented 
+as a general algorithm, rather than as a set of illustrative examples. 
+
+
+
+63 
+
+
+
+The fact that the number of steps required by Euclid's Algorithm 
+has logarithmic growth bears an interesting relation to the Fibonacci 
+numbers: 
+
+Lame's Theorem: If Euclid's Algorithm requires k steps to 
+compute the gcd of some pair, then the smaller number in 
+the pair must be greater than or equal to the k th Fibonacci 
+number. 43 
+
+We can use this theorem to get an order-of-growth estimate for Euclid's 
+Algorithm. Let n be the smaller of the two inputs to the procedure. If the 
+process takes k steps, then we must have n > Fib(fc) ~ cp k /yj5. Therefore 
+the number of steps k grows as the logarithm (to the base <p) of n. Hence, 
+the order of growth is 0(log n). 
+
+
+
+This theorem was proved in 1845 by Gabriel Lame, a French mathematician and 
+engineer known chiefly for his contributions to mathematical physics. To prove the 
+theorem, we consider pairs (a^>&fc)> where > b^, for which Euclid's Algorithm 
+terminates in k steps. The proof is based on the claim that, if (a^+i, b^+l) ~~ * ( a k > ^k) ~ * 
+fcjt-l) are three successive pairs in the reduction process, then we must have 
+fcfc+l — t>k + bk-l- To verify the claim, consider that a reduction step is defined by 
+applying the transformation = b^, bj c _i = remainder of divided by b^. The 
+
+second equation means that = qb^ + fcjt-l f° r some positive integer q. And since q 
+must be at least 1 we have = qb^ + fe/t-i > fo/t + fefc-i- But in the previous reduction 
+step we have b^+i = a^. Therefore, b^ + \ = aj- > b^ +b^-\. This verifies the claim. Now 
+we can prove the theorem by induction on k, the number of steps that the algorithm 
+requires to terminate. The result is true for k = 1, since this merely requires that b be at 
+least as large as Fib(l) = 1. Now, assume that the result is true for all integers less than or 
+equal to k and establish the result for k + 1. Let (a/t+i, fofc+i) — > (flyt> fcfc) — > (ajt-l> ^fc-l) 
+be successive pairs in the reduction process. By our induction hypotheses, we have 
+bfc-i > Fib(/c — 1) and b^ > Fib(/c). Thus, applying the claim we just proved together 
+with the definition of the Fibonacci numbers gives b/ c+1 > fcj- + fcjt-l - Fib(fc) + Fib(A: - 
+1) = Fib(/c + 1), which completes the proof of Lame's Theorem. 
+
+
+
+64 
+
+
+
+Exercise T.20: The process that a procedure generates is 
+of course dependent on the rules used by the interpreter. 
+As an example, consider the iterative gcd procedure given 
+above. Suppose we were to interpret this procedure using 
+normal-order evaluation, as discussed in Section 1.1.5. (The 
+normal-order-evaluation rule for i f is described in Exercise 
+1.5.) Using the substitution method (for normal order), illus- 
+trate the process generated in evaluating (gcd 206 40) and 
+indicate the remainder operations that are actually per- 
+formed. How many remainder operations are actually per- 
+formed in the normal-order evaluation of (gcd 206 40)? 
+In the applicative-order evaluation? 
+
+1.2.6 Example: Testing for Primality 
+
+This section describes two methods for checking the primality of an in- 
+teger n, one with order of growth 0(-\/n), and a "probabilistic" algorithm 
+with order of growth 0(log n). The exercises at the end of this section 
+suggest programming projects based on these algorithms. 
+
+Searching for divisors 
+
+Since ancient times, mathematicians have been fascinated by problems 
+concerning prime numbers, and many people have worked on the prob- 
+lem of determining ways to test if numbers are prime. One way to test 
+if a number is prime is to find the number's divisors. The following pro- 
+gram finds the smallest integral divisor (greater than 1) of a given num- 
+ber n. It does this in a straightforward way, by testing n for divisibility 
+by successive integers starting with 2. 
+
+(define (smallest-divisor n) (find-divisor n 2)) 
+
+
+
+65 
+
+
+
+(define (find-divisor n test-divisor) 
+(cond ((> (square test-divisor) n) n) 
+
+((divides? test-divisor n) test-divisor) 
+(else (find-divisor n (+ test-divisor 1))))) 
+
+(define (divides? a b) (= (remainder b a) 0)) 
+
+We can test whether a number is prime as follows: n is prime if and only 
+if n is its own smallest divisor. 
+
+(define (prime? n) 
+
+(= n (smallest-divisor n))) 
+
+The end test for find-divisor is based on the fact that if n is not prime it 
+must have a divisor less than or equal to 44 This means that the algo- 
+rithm need only test divisors between 1 and y/n. Consequently, the num- 
+ber of steps required to identify n as prime will have order of growth 
+
+e(VH). 
+
+The Fermat test 
+
+The 0(logn) primality test is based on a result from number theory 
+known as Fermat's Little Theorem. 45 
+
+44 If d is a divisor of n, then so is n/d. But d and n/d cannot both be greater than -\[n. 
+
+45 Pierre de Fermat (1601-1665) is considered to be the founder of modern number the- 
+ory. He obtained many important number-theoretic results, but he usually announced 
+just the results, without providing his proofs. Fermat's Little Theorem was stated in a 
+letter he wrote in 1640. The first published proof was given by Euler in 1736 (and an 
+earlier, identical proof was discovered in the unpublished manuscripts of Leibniz). The 
+most famous of Fermat's results— known as Fermat's Last Theorem— was jotted down 
+in 1637 in his copy of the book Arithmetic (by the third-century Greek mathematician 
+Diophantus) with the remark "I have discovered a truly remarkable proof, but this mar- 
+gin is too small to contain it." Finding a proof of Fermat's Last Theorem became one of 
+the most famous challenges in number theory. A complete solution was finally given 
+in 1995 by Andrew Wiles of Princeton University. 
+
+
+
+66 
+
+
+
+Fermat's Little Theorem: If n is a prime number and a 
+is any positive integer less than n, then a raised to the « th 
+power is congruent to a modulo n. 
+
+(Two numbers are said to be congruent modulo n if they both have the 
+same remainder when divided by n. The remainder of a number a when 
+divided by n is also referred to as the remainder of a modulo n, or simply 
+as a modulo n.) 
+
+If n is not prime, then, in general, most of the numbers a < n will 
+not satisfy the above relation. This leads to the following algorithm for 
+testing primality: Given a number n, pick a random number a < n and 
+compute the remainder of a n modulo n. If the result is not equal to a, 
+then n is certainly not prime. If it is a, then chances are good that n is 
+prime. Now pick another random number a and test it with the same 
+method. If it also satisfies the equation, then we can be even more con- 
+fident that n is prime. By trying more and more values of a, we can 
+increase our confidence in the result. This algorithm is known as the 
+Fermat test. 
+
+To implement the Fermat test, we need a procedure that computes 
+the exponential of a number modulo another number: 
+
+(define (expmod base exp m) 
+(cond ((= exp 0) 1) 
+((even? exp) 
+(remainder 
+(square (expmod base (/ exp 2) m)) 
+m)) 
+(else 
+(remainder 
+(* base (expmod base (- exp 1) m)) 
+m)))) 
+
+
+
+67 
+
+
+
+This is very similar to the f ast-expt procedure of Section 1.2.4. It uses 
+successive squaring, so that the number of steps grows logarithmically 
+with the exponent. 46 
+
+The Fermat test is performed by choosing at random a number a be- 
+tween 1 and n - 1 inclusive and checking whether the remainder modulo 
+n of the n th power of a is equal to a. The random number a is chosen us- 
+ing the procedure random, which we assume is included as a primitive 
+in Scheme. Random returns a nonnegative integer less than its integer 
+input. Hence, to obtain a random number between 1 and n — 1, we call 
+random with an input of n — 1 and add 1 to the result: 
+
+(define (fermat-test n) 
+(define (try-it a) 
+
+(= (expmod a n n) a)) 
+(try-it (+ 1 (random (- n 1))))) 
+
+The following procedure runs the test a given number of times, as spec- 
+ified by a parameter. Its value is true if the test succeeds every time, and 
+false otherwise. 
+
+(define (fast-prime? n times) 
+(cond ((= times 0) true) 
+
+((fermat-test n) (fast-prime? n (- times 1))) 
+(else false))) 
+
+
+
+The reduction steps in the cases where the exponent e is greater than 1 are based 
+on the fact that, for any integers x, y, and m, we can find the remainder of x times y 
+modulo m by computing separately the remainders of x modulo m and y modulo m, 
+multiplying these, and then taking the remainder of the result modulo m. For instance, 
+in the case where e is even, we compute the remainder of b e ' 2 modulo m, square this, 
+and take the remainder modulo m. This technique is useful because it means we can 
+perform our computation without ever having to deal with numbers much larger than 
+m. (Compare Exercise 1.25.) 
+
+
+
+68 
+
+
+
+Probabilistic methods 
+
+The Fermat test differs in character from most familiar algorithms, in 
+which one computes an answer that is guaranteed to be correct. Here, 
+the answer obtained is only probably correct. More precisely, if n ever 
+fails the Fermat test, we can be certain that n is not prime. But the fact 
+that n passes the test, while an extremely strong indication, is still not 
+a guarantee that n is prime. What we would like to say is that for any 
+number n, if we perform the test enough times and find that n always 
+passes the test, then the probability of error in our primality test can be 
+made as small as we like. 
+
+Unfortunately, this assertion is not quite correct. There do exist num- 
+bers that fool the Fermat test: numbers n that are not prime and yet have 
+the property that a" is congruent to a modulo n for all integers a < n. 
+Such numbers are extremely rare, so the Fermat test is quite reliable in 
+practice. 47 
+
+There are variations of the Fermat test that cannot be fooled. In these 
+tests, as with the Fermat method, one tests the primality of an integer n 
+by choosing a random integer a < n and checking some condition that 
+depends upon n and a. (See Exercise 1.28 for an example of such a test.) 
+On the other hand, in contrast to the Fermat test, one can prove that, 
+for any n, the condition does not hold for most of the integers a < n 
+unless n is prime. Thus, if n passes the test for some random choice of 
+
+47 Numbers that fool the Fermat test are called Carmichael numbers, and little is 
+known about them other than that they are extremely rare. There are 255 Carmichael 
+numbers below 100,000,000. The smallest few are 561, 1105, 1729, 2465, 2821, and 6601. 
+In testing primality of very large numbers chosen at random, the chance of stumbling 
+upon a value that fools the Fermat test is less than the chance that cosmic radiation will 
+cause the computer to make an error in carrying out a "correct" algorithm. Considering 
+an algorithm to be inadequate for the first reason but not for the second illustrates the 
+difference between mathematics and engineering. 
+
+
+
+69 
+
+
+
+a, the chances are better than even that n is prime. If n passes the test 
+for two random choices of a, the chances are better than 3 out of 4 that 
+n is prime. By running the test with more and more randomly chosen 
+values of a we can make the probability of error as small as we like. 
+
+The existence of tests for which one can prove that the chance of 
+error becomes arbitrarily small has sparked interest in algorithms of this 
+type, which have come to be known as probabilistic algorithms. There is 
+a great deal of research activity in this area, and probabilistic algorithms 
+have been fruitfully applied to many fields. 48 
+
+Exercise 1 .21 : Use the smallest-divisor procedure to find 
+the smallest divisor of each of the following numbers: 199, 
+1999, 19999. 
+
+Exercise 1 .22: Most Lisp implementations include a prim- 
+itive called runtime that returns an integer that specifies 
+the amount of time the system has been running (mea- 
+sured, for example, in microseconds). The following timed- 
+prime -test procedure, when called with an integer n, prints 
+n and checks to see if n is prime. If n is prime, the procedure 
+prints three asterisks followed by the amount of time used 
+in performing the test. 
+
+48 One of the most striking applications of probabilistic prime testing has been to the 
+field of cryptography. Although it is now computationally infeasible to factor an arbi- 
+trary 200-digit number, the primality of such a number can be checked in a few seconds 
+with the Fermat test. This fact forms the basis of a technique for constructing "unbreak- 
+able codes" suggested by Rivest et al. (1977). The resulting RSA algorithm has become 
+a widely used technique for enhancing the security of electronic communications. Be- 
+cause of this and related developments, the study of prime numbers, once considered 
+the epitome of a topic in "pure" mathematics to be studied only for its own sake, now 
+turns out to have important practical applications to cryptography, electronic funds 
+transfer, and information retrieval. 
+
+
+
+70 
+
+
+
+(define (timed-prime-test n) 
+(newline) 
+(display n) 
+
+(start-prime-test n (runtime))) 
+(define (start-prime-test n start-time) 
+
+(if (prime? n) 
+
+(report-prime (- (runtime) start-time)))) 
+(define (report-prime elapsed-time) 
+
+(display " *** ") 
+
+(display elapsed-time)) 
+
+Using this procedure, write a procedure search - for-primes 
+that checks the primality of consecutive odd integers in a 
+specified range. Use your procedure to find the three small- 
+est primes larger than 1000; larger than 10,000; larger than 
+100,000; larger than 1,000,000. Note the time needed to test 
+each prime. Since the testing algorithm has order of growth 
+of 0(-\/n), you should expect that testing for primes around 
+10,000 should take about VlO times as long as testing for 
+primes around 1000. Do your timing data bear this out? 
+How well do the data for 100,000 and 1,000,000 support the 
+@(^Jn) prediction? Is your result compatible with the notion 
+that programs on your machine run in time proportional to 
+the number of steps required for the computation? 
+
+Exercise T.23: The smallest-divisor procedure shown at 
+the start of this section does lots of needless testing: After it 
+checks to see if the number is divisible by 2 there is no point 
+in checking to see if it is divisible by any larger even num- 
+bers. This suggests that the values used for test-divisor 
+should not be 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, . . ., but rather 2, 3, 5, 7, 9, . . .. 
+
+
+
+71 
+
+
+
+To implement this change, define a procedure next that re- 
+turns 3 if its input is equal to 2 and otherwise returns its in- 
+put plus 2. Modify the smallest-divisor procedure to use 
+(next test-divisor) instead of (+ test-divisor 1). 
+With timed-prime-test incorporating this modified ver- 
+sion of smallest-divisor, run the test for each of the 12 
+primes found in Exercise 1.22. Since this modification halves 
+the number of test steps, you should expect it to run about 
+twice as fast. Is this expectation confirmed? If not, what is 
+the observed ratio of the speeds of the two algorithms, and 
+how do you explain the fact that it is different from 2? 
+
+Exercise T.24: Modify the timed-prime-test procedure of 
+Exercise 1.22 to use fast-prime? (the Fermat method), and 
+test each of the 12 primes you found in that exercise. Since 
+the Fermat test has 0(log n) growth, how would you expect 
+the time to test primes near 1,000,000 to compare with the 
+time needed to test primes near 1000? Do your data bear 
+this out? Can you explain any discrepancy you find? 
+
+Exercise T .25: Alyssa P. Hacker complains that we went to 
+a lot of extra work in writing expmod. After all, she says, 
+since we already know how to compute exponentials, we 
+could have simply written 
+
+(define (expmod base exp m) 
+
+(remainder (fast-expt base exp) m)) 
+
+Is she correct? Would this procedure serve as well for our 
+fast prime tester? Explain. 
+
+
+
+72 
+
+
+
+Exercise T .26: Louis Reasoner is having great difficulty do- 
+ing Exercise 1.24. His fast-prime? test seems to run more 
+slowly than his prime? test. Louis calls his friend Eva Lu 
+Ator over to help. When they examine Louis's code, they 
+find that he has rewritten the expmod procedure to use an 
+explicit multiplication, rather than calling square: 
+
+(define (expmod base exp m) 
+(cond ((= exp 0) 1) 
+((even? exp) 
+(remainder (* (expmod base (/ exp 2) m) 
+(expmod base (/ exp 2) m)) 
+
+m)) 
+
+(else 
+
+(remainder (* base 
+
+(expmod base (- exp 1) m)) 
+m)))) 
+
+"I don't see what difference that could make," says Louis. 
+"I do." says Eva. "By writing the procedure like that, you 
+have transformed the 0(log n) process into a 0(n) process." 
+Explain. 
+
+Exercise T.27: Demonstrate that the Carmichael numbers 
+listed in Footnote 1.47 really do fool the Fermat test. That is, 
+write a procedure that takes an integer n and tests whether 
+a" is congruent to a modulo n for every a < n, and try your 
+procedure on the given Carmichael numbers. 
+
+Exercise T .28: One variant of the Fermat test that cannot 
+be fooled is called the Miller-Rabin test (Miller 1976; Rabin 
+1980). This starts from an alternate form of Fermat's Little 
+
+
+
+73 
+
+
+
+Theorem, which states that if n is a prime number and a is 
+any positive integer less than n, then a raised to the (n- l)-st 
+power is congruent to 1 modulo n. To test the primality of a 
+number n by the Miller-Rabin test, we pick a random num- 
+ber a < n and raise a to the (n - l)-st power modulo n using 
+the expmod procedure. However, whenever we perform the 
+squaring step in expmod, we check to see if we have discov- 
+ered a "nontrivial square root of 1 modulo n," that is, a num- 
+ber not equal to 1 or n — 1 whose square is equal to 1 modulo 
+n. It is possible to prove that if such a nontrivial square root 
+of 1 exists, then n is not prime. It is also possible to prove 
+that if n is an odd number that is not prime, then, for at least 
+half the numbers a < n, computing a" -1 in this way will 
+reveal a nontrivial square root of 1 modulo n. (This is why 
+the Miller-Rabin test cannot be fooled.) Modify the expmod 
+procedure to signal if it discovers a nontrivial square root 
+of 1, and use this to implement the Miller-Rabin test with 
+a procedure analogous to fermat-test. Check your pro- 
+cedure by testing various known primes and non-primes. 
+Hint: One convenient way to make expmod signal is to have 
+it return 0. 
+
+
+
+1.3 Formulating Abstractions 
+
+with Higher-Order Procedures 
+
+We have seen that procedures are, in effect, abstractions that describe 
+compound operations on numbers independent of the particular num- 
+bers. For example, when we 
+
+
+
+74 
+
+
+
+(define (cube x) (* x x x)) 
+
+we are not talking about the cube of a particular number, but rather 
+about a method for obtaining the cube of any number. Of course we 
+could get along without ever defining this procedure, by always writing 
+expressions such as 
+
+(* 3 3 3) 
+(* X x x) 
+
+(* y y y) 
+
+and never mentioning cube explicitly. This would place us at a serious 
+disadvantage, forcing us to work always at the level of the particular op- 
+erations that happen to be primitives in the language (multiplication, in 
+this case) rather than in terms of higher-level operations. Our programs 
+would be able to compute cubes, but our language would lack the ability 
+to express the concept of cubing. One of the things we should demand 
+from a powerful programming language is the ability to build abstrac- 
+tions by assigning names to common patterns and then to work in terms 
+of the abstractions directly. Procedures provide this ability. This is why 
+all but the most primitive programming languages include mechanisms 
+for defining procedures. 
+
+Yet even in numerical processing we will be severely limited in our 
+ability to create abstractions if we are restricted to procedures whose pa- 
+rameters must be numbers. Often the same programming pattern will 
+be used with a number of different procedures. To express such patterns 
+as concepts, we will need to construct procedures that can accept pro- 
+cedures as arguments or return procedures as values. Procedures that 
+manipulate procedures are called higher-order procedures. This section 
+shows how higher-order procedures can serve as powerful abstraction 
+mechanisms, vastly increasing the expressive power of our language. 
+
+
+
+75 
+
+
+
+1.3.1 Procedures as Arguments 
+
+Consider the following three procedures. The first computes the sum of 
+the integers from a through b: 
+
+(define (sum-integers a b) 
+(if (> a b) 
+
+0 
+
+(+ a (sum-integers (+ a 1) b)))) 
+
+The second computes the sum of the cubes of the integers in the given 
+range: 
+
+(define (sum-cubes a b) 
+(if (> a b) 
+
+0 
+
+(+ (cube a) 
+
+(sum-cubes (+ a 1) b)))) 
+
+The third computes the sum of a sequence of terms in the series 
+
+1 1 1 
+
++ + + . . . , 
+
+1-3 5-7 9-11 
+
+which converges to tt/8 (very slowly): 49 
+
+(define (pi-sum a b) 
+(if (> a b) 
+
+0 
+
+(+ (/ 1 .0 (* a (+ a 2))) 
+(pi-sum (+ a 4) b)))) 
+
+
+
+This series, usually written in the equivalent form -^ = 1 — - + -- - + ..., is due 
+to Leibniz. We'll see how to use this as the basis for some fancy numerical tricks in 
+Section 3.5.3. 
+
+
+
+76 
+
+
+
+These three procedures clearly share a common underlying pattern. 
+They are for the most part identical, differing only in the name of the 
+procedure, the function of a used to compute the term to be added, and 
+the function that provides the next value of a. We could generate each 
+of the procedures by filling in slots in the same template: 
+
+(define ((name) a b) 
+(if (> a b) 
+
+0 
+
+(+ ((term) a) 
+
+((name) ((next) a) b)))) 
+
+The presence of such a common pattern is strong evidence that there is 
+a useful abstraction waiting to be brought to the surface. Indeed, math- 
+ematicians long ago identified the abstraction of summation of a series 
+and invented "sigma notation," for example 
+
+b 
+
+^ f(n) = f(a) + •••+/(*), 
+
+n=a 
+
+to express this concept. The power of sigma notation is that it allows 
+mathematicians to deal with the concept of summation itself rather than 
+only with particular sums— for example, to formulate general results 
+about sums that are independent of the particular series being summed. 
+
+Similarly, as program designers, we would like our language to be 
+powerful enough so that we can write a procedure that expresses the 
+concept of summation itself rather than only procedures that compute 
+particular sums. We can do so readily in our procedural language by 
+taking the common template shown above and transforming the "slots" 
+into formal parameters: 
+
+(define (sum term a next b) 
+(if (> a b) 
+
+
+
+77 
+
+
+
+0 
+
+(+ (term a) 
+
+(sum term (next a) next b)))) 
+
+Notice that sum takes as its arguments the lower and upper bounds a 
+and b together with the procedures term and next. We can use sum just 
+as we would any procedure. For example, we can use it (along with a 
+procedure inc that increments its argument by 1) to define sum-cubes: 
+
+(define (inc n) (+ n 1)) 
+(define (sum-cubes a b) 
+(sum cube a inc b)) 
+
+Using this, we can compute the sum of the cubes of the integers from 1 
+to 10: 
+
+(sum-cubes 1 10) 
+
+3025 
+
+With the aid of an identity procedure to compute the term, we can define 
+sum-integers in terms of sum: 
+
+(define (identity x) x) 
+(define (sum-integers a b) 
+(sum identity a inc b)) 
+
+Then we can add up the integers from 1 to 10: 
+
+(sum-integers 1 10) 
+
+55 
+
+We can also define pi-sum in the same way: 50 
+
+50 Notice that we have used block structure (Section 1.1.8) to embed the definitions of 
+pi-next and pi-term within pi-sum, since these procedures are unlikely to be useful 
+for any other purpose. We will see how to get rid of them altogether in Section 1.3.2. 
+
+
+
+78 
+
+
+
+(define (pi-sum a b) 
+(define (pi-term x) 
+
+(/ 1 .0 (* x (+ x 2)))) 
+(define (pi-next x) 
+
+(+ x 4)) 
+(sum pi-term a pi-next b)) 
+
+Using these procedures, we can compute an approximation to n: 
+
+(* 8 (pi-sum 1 1000)) 
+3. 139592655589783 
+
+Once we have sum, we can use it as a building block in formulating fur- 
+ther concepts. For instance, the definite integral of a function f between 
+the limits a and b can be approximated numerically using the formula 
+
+
+
+for small values of dx. We can express this directly as a procedure: 
+
+(define (integral fab dx) 
+(define (add-dx x) 
+(+ x dx)) 
+
+(* (sum f (+ a (/ dx 2.0)) add-dx b) 
+dx)) 
+
+(integral cube 0 1 0.01) 
+.24998750000000042 
+
+(integral cube 0 1 0.001) 
+.249999875000001 
+
+(The exact value of the integral of cube between 0 and 1 is 1/4.) 
+
+
+
+
+a + dx + — + f [a + 2dx + — + 
+
+
+
+
+
+dx 
+
+
+
+79 
+
+
+
+Exercise T.29: Simpson's Rule is a more accurate method 
+of numerical integration than the method illustrated above. 
+Using Simpson's Rule, the integral of a function f between 
+a and b is approximated as 
+
+h 
+
+-(yo + 4yi + 2y 2 + 4y 3 + 2y 4 + • • • + 2y„_ 2 + 4y 
+
+where ft = (b - a)/n, for some even integer n, and y^ = 
+/(a + kh). (Increasing n increases the accuracy of the ap- 
+proximation.) Define a procedure that takes as arguments 
+/, a, b, and n and returns the value of the integral, com- 
+puted using Simpson's Rule. Use your procedure to inte- 
+grate cube between 0 and 1 (with n - 100 and n - 1000), 
+and compare the results to those of the integral procedure 
+shown above. 
+
+Exercise T.30: The sum procedure above generates a linear 
+recursion. The procedure can be rewritten so that the sum 
+is performed iteratively. Show how to do this by filling in 
+the missing expressions in the following definition: 
+
+(define (sum term a next b) 
+(define (iter a result) 
+(if <??) 
+(??) 
+
+(iter <??> (??)))) 
+(iter <??) <??))) 
+
+Exercise T.3T: 
+
+a. The sum procedure is only the simplest of a vast num- 
+ber of similar abstractions that can be captured as higher- 
+
+
+
+80 
+
+
+
+order procedures. 51 Write an analogous procedure called 
+product that returns the product of the values of a 
+function at points over a given range. Show how to de- 
+fine factorial in terms of product. Also use product 
+to compute approximations to it using the formula 52 
+
+n _ 2-4-4-6-6-8--- 
+4 ~ 3-3-5-5-7-7--- ' 
+
+b. If your product procedure generates a recursive pro- 
+cess, write one that generates an iterative process. If 
+it generates an iterative process, write one that gen- 
+erates a recursive process. 
+
+Exercise T.32: 
+
+a. Show that sum and product (Exercise 1.31) are both 
+
+special cases of a still more general notion called accumulate 
+that combines a collection of terms, using some gen- 
+eral accumulation function: 
+
+(accumulate combiner null-value term a next b) 
+
+51 The intent of Exercise 1.31 through Exercise 1.33 is to demonstrate the expressive 
+power that is attained by using an appropriate abstraction to consolidate many seem- 
+ingly disparate operations. However, though accumulation and filtering are elegant 
+ideas, our hands are somewhat tied in using them at this point since we do not yet 
+have data structures to provide suitable means of combination for these abstractions. 
+We will return to these ideas in Section 2.2.3 when we show how to use sequences as 
+interfaces for combining filters and accumulators to build even more powerful abstrac- 
+tions. We will see there how these methods really come into their own as a powerful 
+and elegant approach to designing programs. 
+
+52 This formula was discovered by the seventeenth-century English mathematician 
+John Wallis. 
+
+
+
+81 
+
+
+
+Accumulate takes as arguments the same term and 
+range specifications as sum and product, together with 
+a combiner procedure (of two arguments) that speci- 
+fies how the current term is to be combined with the 
+accumulation of the preceding terms and a null -value 
+that specifies what base value to use when the terms 
+run out. Write accumulate and show how sum and 
+product can both be defined as simple calls to accumulate. 
+
+b. If your accumulate procedure generates a recursive 
+process, write one that generates an iterative process. 
+If it generates an iterative process, write one that gen- 
+erates a recursive process. 
+
+Exercise T .33: You can obtain an even more general ver- 
+sion of accumulate (Exercise 1.32) by introducing the no- 
+tion of a filter on the terms to be combined. That is, combine 
+only those terms derived from values in the range that sat- 
+isfy a specified condition. The resulting f iltered-accumulate 
+abstraction takes the same arguments as accumulate, to- 
+gether with an additional predicate of one argument that 
+specifies the filter. Write f iltered-accumulate as a proce- 
+dure. Show how to express the following using f iltered- 
+accumulate: 
+
+a. the sum of the squares of the prime numbers in the 
+interval a to b (assuming that you have a prime? pred- 
+icate already written) 
+
+b. the product of all the positive integers less than n that 
+are relatively prime to n (i.e., all positive integers i < n 
+such that GCD(i,n) = 1). 
+
+
+
+82 
+
+
+
+1.3.2 Constructing Procedures Using Lambda 
+
+In using sum as in Section 1.3.1, it seems terribly awkward to have to 
+define trivial procedures such as pi-term and pi-next just so we can 
+use them as arguments to our higher-order procedure. Rather than de- 
+fine pi-next and pi-term, it would be more convenient to have a way 
+to directly specify "the procedure that returns its input incremented by 
+4" and "the procedure that returns the reciprocal of its input times its 
+input plus 2." We can do this by introducing the special form lambda, 
+which creates procedures. Using lambda we can describe what we want 
+as 
+
+(lambda (x) (+ x 4)) 
+and 
+
+(lambda (x) (/ 1.0 (* x (+ x 2)))) 
+
+Then our pi -sum procedure can be expressed without defining any aux- 
+iliary procedures as 
+
+(define (pi-sum a b) 
+
+(sum (lambda (x) (/ 1.0 (* x (+ x 2)))) 
+a 
+
+(lambda (x) (+ x 4)) 
+b)) 
+
+Again using lambda, we can write the integral procedure without hav- 
+ing to define the auxiliary procedure add-dx: 
+
+(define (integral fab dx) 
+(* (sum f 
+
+(+ a (/ dx 2.0)) 
+(lambda (x) (+ x dx)) 
+b) 
+
+dx)) 
+
+
+
+83 
+
+
+
+In general, lambda is used to create procedures in the same way as 
+define, except that no name is specified for the procedure: 
+
+(lambda ({formal-parameters}) (body)) 
+
+The resulting procedure is just as much a procedure as one that is cre- 
+ated using define. The only difference is that it has not been associated 
+with any name in the environment. In fact, 
+
+(define (plus4 x) (+ x 4)) 
+is equivalent to 
+
+(define plus4 (lambda (x) (+ x 4))) 
+
+We can read a lambda expression as follows: 
+
+(lambda (x) (+ x 4)) 
+
+I I I I I 
+
+the procedure of an argument x that adds x and 4 
+
+Like any expression that has a procedure as its value, a lambda expres- 
+sion can be used as the operator in a combination such as 
+
+((lambda (x y z) (+ x y (square z))) 
+1 2 3) 
+72 
+
+or, more generally, in any context where we would normally use a pro- 
+cedure name. 53 
+
+53 It would be clearer and less intimidating to people learning Lisp if a name more 
+obvious than lambda, such as make-procedure, were used. But the convention is firmly 
+entrenched. The notation is adopted from the X-calculus, a mathematical formalism in- 
+troduced by the mathematical logician Alonzo Church (1941). Church developed the 
+X-calculus to provide a rigorous foundation for studying the notions of function and 
+function application. The X-calculus has become a basic tool for mathematical investi- 
+gations of the semantics of programming languages. 
+
+
+
+84 
+
+
+
+Using let to create local variables 
+
+Another use of lambda is in creating local variables. We often need lo- 
+cal variables in our procedures other than those that have been bound 
+as formal parameters. For example, suppose we wish to compute the 
+function 
+
+f(x, y) = x(l + xyf + y{\ - y) + (1 + xy)(l - y), 
+
+which we could also express as 
+
+a — 1 + xy, 
+b = l-y, 
+f(x, y) = xa 2 + yb + ab. 
+
+In writing a procedure to compute /, we would like to include as local 
+variables not only x and y but also the names of intermediate quantities 
+like a and b. One way to accomplish this is to use an auxiliary procedure 
+to bind the local variables: 
+
+(define (f x y) 
+
+(define (f-helper a b) 
+(+ (* x (square a)) 
+(* y b) 
+(* a b))) 
+(f-helper (+1 (* x y)) 
+(- 1 y))) 
+
+Of course, we could use a lambda expression to specify an anonymous 
+procedure for binding our local variables. The body of f then becomes 
+a single call to that procedure: 
+
+(define (f x y) 
+((lambda (a b) 
+
+
+
+85 
+
+
+
+(+ (* x (square a)) 
+
+(* y b) 
+
+(* a b))) 
+(+1 (* x y)) 
+
+(- 1 y))) 
+
+This construct is so useful that there is a special form called let to make 
+its use more convenient. Using let, the f procedure could be written as 
+
+(define (f x y) 
+
+(let ((a (+1 (* x y))) 
+(b (- 1 y))) 
+(+ (* x (square a)) 
+(* y b) 
+C* a b)))) 
+
+The general form of a let expression is 
+
+(let (({van) {expi}} 
+((var 2 ) <exp 2 » 
+
+({var n ) (exp n ))) 
+(body)) 
+
+which can be thought of as saying 
+
+let (vari) have the value (expi) and 
+(var2) have the value (exp2) and 
+
+(var n ) have the value (exp n ) 
+in {body) 
+
+The first part of the let expression is a list of name-expression pairs. 
+When the let is evaluated, each name is associated with the value of 
+the corresponding expression. The body of the let is evaluated with 
+these names bound as local variables. The way this happens is that the 
+let expression is interpreted as an alternate syntax for 
+
+
+
+86 
+
+
+
+((lambda {{var\) ... (var n )) 
+
+{body)) 
+(expi) 
+
+(expn)) 
+
+No new mechanism is required in the interpreter in order to provide 
+local variables. A let expression is simply syntactic sugar for the un- 
+derlying lambda application. 
+
+We can see from this equivalence that the scope of a variable spec- 
+ified by a let expression is the body of the let. This implies that: 
+
+• Let allows one to bind variables as locally as possible to where 
+they are to be used. For example, if the value of x is 5, the value 
+of the expression 
+
+(+ (let ((x 3)) 
+
+(+ x (* x 10))) 
+
+x) 
+
+is 38. Here, the x in the body of the let is 3, so the value of the 
+let expression is 33. On the other hand, the x that is the second 
+argument to the outermost + is still 5. 
+
+• The variables' values are computed outside the let. This matters 
+when the expressions that provide the values for the local vari- 
+ables depend upon variables having the same names as the local 
+variables themselves. For example, if the value of x is 2, the ex- 
+pression 
+
+(let ((x 3) 
+
+(y (+ x 2))) 
+(* x y)) 
+
+
+
+87 
+
+
+
+will have the value 12 because, inside the body of the let, x will 
+be 3 and y will be 4 (which is the outer x plus 2). 
+
+Sometimes we can use internal definitions to get the same effect as with 
+let. For example, we could have defined the procedure f above as 
+
+(define (f x y) 
+
+(define a (+ 1 (* x y))) 
+(define b (- 1 y)) 
+(+ (* x (square a)) 
+(* y b) 
+(* a b))) 
+
+We prefer, however, to use let in situations like this and to use internal 
+define only for internal procedures. 54 
+
+Exercise T .34: Suppose we define the procedure 
+(define (f g) (g 2)) 
+
+Then we have 
+
+(f square) 
+4 
+
+(f (lambda (z) (* z (+ z 1)))) 
+6 
+
+What happens if we (perversely) ask the interpreter to eval- 
+uate the combination (f f )? Explain. 
+
+^Understanding internal definitions well enough to be sure a program means what 
+we intend it to mean requires a more elaborate model of the evaluation process than we 
+have presented in this chapter. The subtleties do not arise with internal definitions of 
+procedures, however. We will return to this issue in Section 4.1.6, after we learn more 
+about evaluation. 
+
+
+
+88 
+
+
+
+1.3.3 Procedures as General Methods 
+
+We introduced compound procedures in Section 1.1.4 as a mechanism 
+for abstracting patterns of numerical operations so as to make them in- 
+dependent of the particular numbers involved. With higher-order pro- 
+cedures, such as the integral procedure of Section 1.3.1, we began to 
+see a more powerful kind of abstraction: procedures used to express 
+general methods of computation, independent of the particular func- 
+tions involved. In this section we discuss two more elaborate examples- 
+general methods for finding zeros and fixed points of functions— and 
+show how these methods can be expressed directly as procedures. 
+
+Finding roots of equations by the half-interval method 
+
+The half-interval method is a simple but powerful technique for finding 
+roots of an equation f(x) = 0, where / is a continuous function. The 
+idea is that, if we are given points a and b such that f(a) < 0 < f(b), 
+then / must have at least one zero between a and b. To locate a zero, 
+let x be the average of a and b, and compute f(x). If f(x) > 0, then 
+/ must have a zero between a and x. If f(x) < 0, then / must have a 
+zero between x and b. Continuing in this way, we can identify smaller 
+and smaller intervals on which f must have a zero. When we reach a 
+point where the interval is small enough, the process stops. Since the 
+interval of uncertainty is reduced by half at each step of the process, the 
+number of steps required grows as 0(log(L/T)), where L is the length 
+of the original interval and T is the error tolerance (that is, the size of 
+the interval we will consider "small enough"). Here is a procedure that 
+implements this strategy: 
+
+(define (search f neg-point pos-point) 
+
+(let ((midpoint (average neg-point pos-point))) 
+
+
+
+89 
+
+
+
+(if (close-enough? neg-point pos-point) 
+midpoint 
+
+(let ((test-value (f midpoint))) 
+(cond ((positive? test-value) 
+
+(search f neg-point midpoint)) 
+((negative? test-value) 
+
+(search f midpoint pos-point)) 
+(else midpoint)))))) 
+
+We assume that we are initially given the function / together with 
+points at which its values are negative and positive. We first compute 
+the midpoint of the two given points. Next we check to see if the given 
+interval is small enough, and if so we simply return the midpoint as our 
+answer. Otherwise, we compute as a test value the value of / at the mid- 
+point. If the test value is positive, then we continue the process with a 
+new interval running from the original negative point to the midpoint. 
+If the test value is negative, we continue with the interval from the mid- 
+point to the positive point. Finally, there is the possibility that the test 
+value is 0, in which case the midpoint is itself the root we are searching 
+for. 
+
+To test whether the endpoints are "close enough" we can use a pro- 
+cedure similar to the one used in Section 1.1.7 for computing square 
+roots: 55 
+
+(define (close-enough? x y) (< (abs (- x y)) 0.001)) 
+
+Search is awkward to use directly, because we can accidentally give it 
+points at which f's values do not have the required sign, in which case 
+
+55 We have used 0.001 as a representative "small" number to indicate a tolerance for 
+the acceptable error in a calculation. The appropriate tolerance for a real calculation 
+depends upon the problem to be solved and the limitations of the computer and the 
+algorithm. This is often a very subtle consideration, requiring help from a numerical 
+analyst or some other kind of magician. 
+
+
+
+90 
+
+
+
+we get a wrong answer. Instead we will use search via the following 
+procedure, which checks to see which of the endpoints has a negative 
+function value and which has a positive value, and calls the search pro- 
+cedure accordingly. If the function has the same sign on the two given 
+points, the half-interval method cannot be used, in which case the pro- 
+cedure signals an error. 56 
+
+(define (half-interval-method fab) 
+(let ((a-value (f a)) 
+(b-value (f b))) 
+(cond ((and (negative? a-value) (positive? b-value)) 
+(search f a b)) 
+((and (negative? b-value) (positive? a-value)) 
+
+(search f b a)) 
+(else 
+
+(error "Values are not of opposite sign" a b))))) 
+
+The following example uses the half-interval method to approximate n 
+as the root between 2 and 4 of sinx = 0: 
+
+(half-interval-method sin 2.0 4.0) 
+3. 14111328125 
+
+Here is another example, using the half-interval method to search for a 
+root of the equation x 3 - 2x - 3 = 0 between 1 and 2: 
+
+(half-interval-method (lambda (x) (- (* x x x) (* 2 x) 3)) 
+1 .0 
+2.0) 
+
+1 .89306640625 
+
+
+
+This can be accomplished using error, which takes as arguments a number of items 
+that are printed as error messages. 
+
+
+
+91 
+
+
+
+Finding fixed points of functions 
+
+A number x is called a. fixed point of a function / if x satisfies the equa- 
+tion f(x) - x. For some functions / we can locate a fixed point by 
+beginning with an initial guess and applying / repeatedly, 
+
+f{x), f(f(x)), f(f(f(x))), 
+
+until the value does not change very much. Using this idea, we can de- 
+vise a procedure fixed-point that takes as inputs a function and an 
+initial guess and produces an approximation to a fixed point of the func- 
+tion. We apply the function repeatedly until we find two successive val- 
+ues whose difference is less than some prescribed tolerance: 
+
+(define tolerance 0.00001) 
+(define (fixed-point f first-guess) 
+(define (close-enough? vl v2) 
+(< (abs (- vl v2)) 
+tolerance)) 
+(define (try guess) 
+
+(let ((next (f guess))) 
+
+(if (close-enough? guess next) 
+next 
+
+(try next)))) 
+(try first-guess)) 
+
+For example, we can use this method to approximate the fixed point of 
+the cosine function, starting with 1 as an initial approximation: 57 
+
+(fixed-point cos 1.0) 
+. 7390822985224023 
+
+Similarly, we can find a solution to the equation y = sin y + cos y: 
+
+57 Try this during a boring lecture: Set your calculator to radians mode and then 
+repeatedly press the cos button until you obtain the fixed point. 
+
+
+
+92 
+
+
+
+(fixed-point (lambda (y) (+ (sin y) (cos y))) 
+1.0) 
+
+1 .2587315962971173 
+
+The fixed-point process is reminiscent of the process we used for finding 
+square roots in Section 1.1.7. Both are based on the idea of repeatedly 
+improving a guess until the result satisfies some criterion. In fact, we can 
+readily formulate the square-root computation as a fixed-point search. 
+Computing the square root of some number x requires finding a y such 
+that y 2 = x. Putting this equation into the equivalent form y — x/y, 
+we recognize that we are looking for a fixed point of the function 58 
+y \-> x/y, and we can therefore try to compute square roots as 
+
+(define (sqrt x) 
+
+(fixed-point (lambda (y) (/ x y)) 
+1.0)) 
+
+Unfortunately, this fixed-point search does not converge. Consider an 
+initial guess y\. The next guess is y 2 = x/y\ and the next guess is y 3 = 
+x/t/2 = x /( x /yi) — yi- This results in an infinite loop in which the two 
+guesses y\ and y 2 repeat over and over, oscillating about the answer. 
+
+One way to control such oscillations is to prevent the guesses from 
+changing so much. Since the answer is always between our guess y and 
+x/y, we can make a new guess that is not as far from y as x/y by av- 
+eraging y with x/y, so that the next guess after y is + x/y) instead 
+of x/y. The process of making such a sequence of guesses is simply the 
+process of looking for a fixed point of y \- > |(y + x/y): 
+
+(define (sqrt x) 
+
+(fixed-point (lambda (y) (average y (/ x y))) 
+1.0)) 
+
+58 h* (pronounced "maps to") is the mathematician's way of writing lambda, y (-> x/y 
+means (lambda (y) (/ x y)), that is, the function whose value at y is x/y. 
+
+
+
+93 
+
+
+
+(Note that y = -(y + x/y) is a simple transformation of the equation 
+y = x/y; to derive it, add y to both sides of the equation and divide by 
+2.) 
+
+With this modification, the square-root procedure works. In fact, if 
+we unravel the definitions, we can see that the sequence of approxi- 
+mations to the square root generated here is precisely the same as the 
+one generated by our original square-root procedure of Section 1.1.7. 
+This approach of averaging successive approximations to a solution, a 
+technique that we call average damping, often aids the convergence of 
+fixed-point searches. 
+
+Exercise 1.35: Show that the golden ratio <p (Section 1.2.2) 
+is a fixed point of the transformation x i— > 1 + 1/x, and 
+use this fact to compute <p by means of the fixed-point 
+procedure. 
+
+Exercise 1.36: Modify fixed-point so that it prints the 
+sequence of approximations it generates, using the newline 
+and display primitives shown in Exercise 1.22. Then find 
+a solution to x x — 1000 by finding a fixed point of i h 
+log(1000)/ log(x). (Use Scheme's primitive log procedure, 
+which computes natural logarithms.) Compare the number 
+of steps this takes with and without average damping. (Note 
+that you cannot start fixed-point with a guess of 1, as this 
+would cause division by log(l) = 0.) 
+
+Exercise 1.37: 
+
+a. An infinite continued fraction is an expression of the 
+
+
+
+94 
+
+
+
+form 
+
+/ = N - ■ 
+
+N 2 
+
+Di + 
+
+D 2 + 
+
+D 3 + ... 
+
+As an example, one can show that the infinite con- 
+tinued fraction expansion with the Nj and the D z all 
+equal to 1 produces 1 /<p, where cp is the golden ratio 
+(described in Section 1.2.2). One way to approximate 
+an infinite continued fraction is to truncate the expan- 
+sion after a given number of terms. Such a truncation— 
+a so-called k-term finite continued fraction— has the form 
+
+
+
+N 2 
+
+D 1 + - 
+
+
+
+■ . + — 
+
+Suppose that n and d are procedures of one argument 
+(the term index i) that return the AT ; and D, of the 
+terms of the continued fraction. Define a procedure 
+cont-frac such that evaluating (cont-frac n d k) 
+computes the value of the fc-term finite continued frac- 
+tion. Check your procedure by approximating 1 /<p us- 
+ing 
+
+(cont-frac (lambda (i) 1.0) 
+(lambda (i) 1 .0) 
+k) 
+
+
+
+95 
+
+
+
+for successive values of k. How large must you make 
+k in order to get an approximation that is accurate to 
+4 decimal places? 
+
+b. If your cont-f rac procedure generates a recursive pro- 
+cess, write one that generates an iterative process. If 
+it generates an iterative process, write one that gen- 
+erates a recursive process. 
+
+Exercise T.38: In 1737, the Swiss mathematician Leonhard 
+Euler published a memoir De Fractionibus Continuis, which 
+included a continued fraction expansion for e - 2, where 
+e is the base of the natural logarithms. In this fraction, the 
+Ni are all 1, and the D t are successively 1, 2, 1, 1, 4, 1, 1, 
+6, 1, 1, 8, . . .. Write a program that uses your cont-f rac 
+procedure from Exercise 1.37 to approximate e, based on 
+Euler's expansion. 
+
+Exercise T .39: A continued fraction representation of the 
+tangent function was published in 1770 by the German math- 
+ematician J.H. Lambert: 
+
+x 
+
+tan x = , 
+
+2 
+
+1 
+
+
+
+
+where x is in radians. Define a procedure (tan-cf x k) that 
+computes an approximation to the tangent function based 
+on Lambert's formula, k specifies the number of terms to 
+compute, as in Exercise 1.37. 
+
+
+
+96 
+
+
+
+1.3.4 Procedures as Returned Values 
+
+The above examples demonstrate how the ability to pass procedures as 
+arguments significantly enhances the expressive power of our program- 
+ming language. We can achieve even more expressive power by creating 
+procedures whose returned values are themselves procedures. 
+
+We can illustrate this idea by looking again at the fixed-point exam- 
+ple described at the end of Section 1.3.3. We formulated a new version 
+of the square-root procedure as a fixed-point search, starting with the 
+observation that s/x is a fixed-point of the function y \-> x/y. Then we 
+used average damping to make the approximations converge. Average 
+damping is a useful general technique in itself. Namely given a function 
+/, we consider the function whose value at x is equal to the average of 
+x and fix). 
+
+We can express the idea of average damping by means of the fol- 
+lowing procedure: 
+
+(define (average-damp f) 
+
+(lambda (x) (average x (f x)))) 
+
+Average-damp is a procedure that takes as its argument a procedure 
+f and returns as its value a procedure (produced by the lambda) that, 
+when applied to a number x, produces the average of x and (f x). For 
+example, applying average-damp to the square procedure produces a 
+procedure whose value at some number x is the average of x and x 2 . 
+Applying this resulting procedure to 10 returns the average of 10 and 
+100, or 55: 59 
+
+59 Observe that this is a combination whose operator is itself a combination. Exercise 
+1.4 already demonstrated the ability to form such combinations, but that was only a toy 
+example. Here we begin to see the real need for such combinations— when applying a 
+procedure that is obtained as the value returned by a higher-order procedure. 
+
+
+
+97 
+
+
+
+((average-damp square) 10) 
+55 
+
+Using average-damp, we can reformulate the square-root procedure as 
+follows: 
+
+(define (sqrt x) 
+
+(fixed-point (average-damp (lambda (y) (/ x y))) 
+1.0)) 
+
+Notice how this formulation makes explicit the three ideas in the method: 
+fixed-point search, average damping, and the function y i-» x/y. It is in- 
+structive to compare this formulation of the square-root method with 
+the original version given in Section 1.1.7. Bear in mind that these pro- 
+cedures express the same process, and notice how much clearer the idea 
+becomes when we express the process in terms of these abstractions. In 
+general, there are many ways to formulate a process as a procedure. Ex- 
+perienced programmers know how to choose procedural formulations 
+that are particularly perspicuous, and where useful elements of the pro- 
+cess are exposed as separate entities that can be reused in other appli- 
+cations. As a simple example of reuse, notice that the cube root of x is a 
+fixed point of the function y i— > x/y 2 , so we can immediately generalize 
+our square-root procedure to one that extracts cube roots: 60 
+
+(define (cube-root x) 
+
+(fixed-point (average-damp (lambda (y) (/ x (square y)))) 
+1.0)) 
+
+Newton's method 
+
+When we first introduced the square-root procedure, in Section 1.1.7, we 
+mentioned that this was a special case of Newton's method. If x i-> g(x) 
+
+60 See Exercise 1.45 for a further generalization. 
+
+
+
+98 
+
+
+
+is a differentiable function, then a solution of the equation g(x) - 0 is a 
+fixed point of the function x \-> f(x), where 
+
+= x ~ WT\ 
+Dg(x) 
+
+and Dg(x) is the derivative of g evaluated at x. Newton's method is the 
+use of the fixed-point method we saw above to approximate a solution 
+of the equation by finding a fixed point of the function f. 61 
+
+For many functions g and for sufficiently good initial guesses for x, 
+Newton's method converges very rapidly to a solution of g(x) = 0. 52 
+
+In order to implement Newton's method as a procedure, we must 
+first express the idea of derivative. Note that "derivative," like average 
+damping, is something that transforms a function into another function. 
+For instance, the derivative of the function x i— > x 3 is the function x i— > 
+3x 2 . In general, if g is a function and dx is a small number, then the 
+derivative Dg of g is the function whose value at any number x is given 
+(in the limit of small dx) by 
+
+g(x + dx) - g(x) 
+
+Dg(x) = . 
+
+ax 
+
+Thus, we can express the idea of derivative (taking dx to be, say, 0.00001) 
+as the procedure 
+
+(define (deriv g) 
+
+(lambda (x) (/ (- (g (+ x dx)) (g x)) dx))) 
+
+
+
+61 Elementary calculus books usually describe Newton's method in terms of the se- 
+quence of approximations x n+ \ = x n - g(x n ) I Dg(x n ). Having language for talking about 
+processes and using the idea of fixed points simplifies the description of the method. 
+
+62 Newton's method does not always converge to an answer, but it can be shown 
+that in favorable cases each iteration doubles the number-of-digits accuracy of the ap- 
+proximation to the solution. In such cases, Newton's method will converge much more 
+rapidly than the half-interval method. 
+
+
+
+99 
+
+
+
+along with the definition 
+(define dx 0.00001) 
+
+Like average-damp, deriv is a procedure that takes a procedure as ar- 
+gument and returns a procedure as value. For example, to approximate 
+the derivative of x i-» x 3 at 5 (whose exact value is 75) we can evaluate 
+
+(define (cube x) (* x x x)) 
+((deriv cube) 5) 
+75.00014999664018 
+
+With the aid of deriv, we can express Newton's method as a fixed-point 
+process: 
+
+(define (newton-transform g) 
+
+(lambda (x) (- x (/ (g x) ((deriv g) x))))) 
+(define (newtons-method g guess) 
+
+(fixed-point (newton-transform g) guess)) 
+
+The newton-transform procedure expresses the formula at the begin- 
+ning of this section, and newtons-method is readily defined in terms of 
+this. It takes as arguments a procedure that computes the function for 
+which we want to find a zero, together with an initial guess. For in- 
+stance, to find the square root of x, we can use Newton's method to find 
+a zero of the function y i-» y 2 - x starting with an initial guess of l. 63 
+This provides yet another form of the square-root procedure: 
+
+(define (sqrt x) 
+(newtons-method 
+(lambda (y) (- (square y) x)) 1.0)) 
+
+
+
+For finding square roots, Newton's method converges rapidly to the correct solu- 
+tion from any starting point. 
+
+
+
+100 
+
+
+
+Abstractions and first-class procedures 
+
+We've seen two ways to express the square-root computation as an in- 
+stance of a more general method, once as a fixed-point search and once 
+using Newton's method. Since Newton's method was itself expressed 
+as a fixed-point process, we actually saw two ways to compute square 
+roots as fixed points. Each method begins with a function and finds a 
+fixed point of some transformation of the function. We can express this 
+general idea itself as a procedure: 
+
+(define (f ixed-point-of-transform g transform guess) 
+(fixed-point (transform g) guess)) 
+
+This very general procedure takes as its arguments a procedure g that 
+computes some function, a procedure that transforms g, and an initial 
+guess. The returned result is a fixed point of the transformed function. 
+
+Using this abstraction, we can recast the first square-root computa- 
+tion from this section (where we look for a fixed point of the average- 
+damped version of y i-» x/y) as an instance of this general method: 
+
+(define (sqrt x) 
+
+(f ixed-point-of-transform 
+(lambda (y) (/ x y)) average-damp 1.0)) 
+
+Similarly, we can express the second square-root computation from this 
+section (an instance of Newton's method that finds a fixed point of the 
+Newton transform of y i-» y 2 - x) as 
+
+(define (sqrt x) 
+
+(f ixed-point-of-transform 
+(lambda (y) (- (square y) x)) newton-transform 1.0)) 
+
+We began Section 1.3 with the observation that compound procedures 
+are a crucial abstraction mechanism, because they permit us to express 
+general methods of computing as explicit elements in our programming 
+
+
+
+101 
+
+
+
+language. Now we've seen how higher-order procedures permit us to 
+manipulate these general methods to create further abstractions. 
+
+As programmers, we should be alert to opportunities to identify the 
+underlying abstractions in our programs and to build upon them and 
+generalize them to create more powerful abstractions. This is not to 
+say that one should always write programs in the most abstract way 
+possible; expert programmers know how to choose the level of abstrac- 
+tion appropriate to their task. But it is important to be able to think in 
+terms of these abstractions, so that we can be ready to apply them in 
+new contexts. The significance of higher-order procedures is that they 
+enable us to represent these abstractions explicitly as elements in our 
+programming language, so that they can be handled just like other com- 
+putational elements. 
+
+In general, programming languages impose restrictions on the ways 
+in which computational elements can be manipulated. Elements with 
+the fewest restrictions are said to have first-class status. Some of the 
+"rights and privileges" of first-class elements are: 64 
+
+• They may be named by variables. 
+
+• They may be passed as arguments to procedures. 
+
+• They may be returned as the results of procedures. 
+
+• They may be included in data structures. 65 
+
+Lisp, unlike other common programming languages, awards procedures 
+full first-class status. This poses challenges for efficient implementation, 
+
+64 The notion of first-class status of programming-language elements is due to the 
+British computer scientist Christopher Strachey (1916-1975). 
+
+65 We'll see examples of this after we introduce data structures in Chapter 2. 
+
+
+
+102 
+
+
+
+but the resulting gain in expressive power is enormous. 
+
+
+
+Exercise T.40: Define a procedure cubic that can be used 
+together with the newtons-method procedure in expressions 
+of the form 
+
+(newtons-method (cubic a b c) 1) 
+
+to approximate zeros of the cubic x 3 + ax 2 + bx + c. 
+
+Exercise T.4T: Define a procedure double that takes a pro- 
+cedure of one argument as argument and returns a proce- 
+dure that applies the original procedure twice. For exam- 
+ple, if inc is a procedure that adds 1 to its argument, then 
+(double inc) should be a procedure that adds 2. What 
+value is returned by 
+
+(((double (double double)) inc) 5) 
+
+Exercise T.42: Let / and g be two one-argument functions. 
+The composition f after g is defined to be the function x i— > 
+f(g(x)). Define a procedure compose that implements com- 
+position. For example, if inc is a procedure that adds 1 to 
+its argument, 
+
+((compose square inc) 6) 
+
+49 
+
+
+
+66 The major implementation cost of first-class procedures is that allowing procedures 
+to be returned as values requires reserving storage for a procedure's free variables even 
+while the procedure is not executing. In the Scheme implementation we will study in 
+Section 4.1, these variables are stored in the procedure's environment. 
+
+
+
+103 
+
+
+
+Exercise T .43: If / is a numerical function and n is a posi- 
+tive integer, then we can form the n th repeated application 
+of /, which is defined to be the function whose value at 
+x is /(/(. . . (f(x)) ■■■))■ F° r example, if / is the function 
+x i— > x + 1, then the « th repeated application of f is the 
+function x \-> x + n. If / is the operation of squaring a num- 
+ber, then the n th repeated application of / is the function 
+that raises its argument to the 2"-th power. Write a proce- 
+dure that takes as inputs a procedure that computes / and a 
+positive integer n and returns the procedure that computes 
+the n th repeated application of /. Your procedure should be 
+able to be used as follows: 
+
+((repeated square 2) 5) 
+
+625 
+
+Hint: You may find it convenient to use compose from Ex- 
+ercise 1.42. 
+
+Exercise T.44: The idea of smoothing a function is an im- 
+portant concept in signal processing. If / is a function and 
+dx is some small number, then the smoothed version of / is 
+the function whose value at a point x is the average of f(x - 
+dx), f(x), and f(x+dx). Write aprocedure smooth that takes 
+as input a procedure that computes / and returns a proce- 
+dure that computes the smoothed /. It is sometimes valu- 
+able to repeatedly smooth a function (that is, smooth the 
+smoothed function, and so on) to obtain the n-fold smoothed 
+function. Show how to generate the ra-fold smoothed func- 
+tion of any given function using smooth and repeated from 
+Exercise 1.43. 
+
+
+
+104 
+
+
+
+Exercise T.45: We saw in Section 1.3.3 that attempting to 
+compute square roots by naively finding a fixed point of 
+y i — > x/y does not converge, and that this can be fixed by 
+average damping. The same method works for finding cube 
+roots as fixed points of the average-damped y i-» x/y 2 . Un- 
+fortunately, the process does not work for fourth roots— a 
+single average damp is not enough to make a fixed-point 
+search for y i— > x/y 3 converge. On the other hand, if we 
+average damp twice (i.e., use the average damp of the av- 
+erage damp of y i-» x/y 3 ) the fixed-point search does con- 
+verge. Do some experiments to determine how many av- 
+erage damps are required to compute n th roots as a fixed- 
+point search based upon repeated average damping of y \- > 
+x/y n ~ x . Use this to implement a simple procedure for com- 
+puting n th roots using fixed-point, average-damp, and the 
+repeated procedure of Exercise 1.43. Assume that any arith- 
+metic operations you need are available as primitives. 
+
+Exercise T.46: Several of the numerical methods described 
+in this chapter are instances of an extremely general com- 
+putational strategy known as iterative improvement. Itera- 
+tive improvement says that, to compute something, we start 
+with an initial guess for the answer, test if the guess is good 
+enough, and otherwise improve the guess and continue the 
+process using the improved guess as the new guess. Write 
+a pro ce dure iterative-improve that takes two pro ce dure s 
+as arguments: a method for telling whether a guess is good 
+enough and a method for improving a guess. Iterative- 
+improve should return as its value a procedure that takes a 
+guess as argument and keeps improving the guess until it is 
+
+
+
+105 
+
+
+
+good enough. Rewrite the sqrt procedure of Section 1.1.7 
+and the fixed-point procedure of Section 1.3.3 in terms of 
+iterative- improve. 
+
+
+
+106 
+
+
+
+2 
+
+
+
+Building Abstractions with Data 
+
+
+
+We now come to the decisive step of mathematical abstrac- 
+tion: we forget about what the symbols stand for. . . . [The 
+mathematician] need not be idle; there are many operations 
+which he may carry out with these symbols, without ever 
+having to look at the things they stand for. 
+
+—Hermann Weyl, The Mathematical Way of Thinking 
+
+We concentrated in Chapter 1 on computational processes and 
+on the role of procedures in program design. We saw how to 
+use primitive data (numbers) and primitive operations (arithmetic op- 
+erations), how to combine procedures to form compound procedures 
+through composition, conditionals, and the use of parameters, and how 
+to abstract procedures by using define. We saw that a procedure can 
+be regarded as a pattern for the local evolution of a process, and we 
+classified, reasoned about, and performed simple algorithmic analyses 
+of some common patterns for processes as embodied in procedures. We 
+
+
+
+107 
+
+
+
+also saw that higher-order procedures enhance the power of our lan- 
+guage by enabling us to manipulate, and thereby to reason in terms of, 
+general methods of computation. This is much of the essence of pro- 
+gramming. 
+
+In this chapter we are going to look at more complex data. All the 
+procedures in chapter 1 operate on simple numerical data, and simple 
+data are not sufficient for many of the problems we wish to address 
+using computation. Programs are typically designed to model complex 
+phenomena, and more often than not one must construct computational 
+objects that have several parts in order to model real-world phenom- 
+ena that have several aspects. Thus, whereas our focus in chapter 1 was 
+on building abstractions by combining procedures to form compound 
+procedures, we turn in this chapter to another key aspect of any pro- 
+gramming language: the means it provides for building abstractions by 
+combining data objects to form compound data. 
+
+Why do we want compound data in a programming language? For 
+the same reasons that we want compound procedures: to elevate the 
+conceptual level at which we can design our programs, to increase the 
+modularity of our designs, and to enhance the expressive power of our 
+language. Just as the ability to define procedures enables us to deal with 
+processes at a higher conceptual level than that of the primitive oper- 
+ations of the language, the ability to construct compound data objects 
+enables us to deal with data at a higher conceptual level than that of the 
+primitive data objects of the language. 
+
+Consider the task of designing a system to perform arithmetic with 
+rational numbers. We could imagine an operation add- rat that takes 
+two rational numbers and produces their sum. In terms of simple data, 
+a rational number can be thought of as two integers: a numerator and 
+a denominator. Thus, we could design a program in which each ratio- 
+nal number would be represented by two integers (a numerator and a 
+
+
+
+108 
+
+
+
+denominator) and where add- rat would be implemented by two proce- 
+dures (one producing the numerator of the sum and one producing the 
+denominator). But this would be awkward, because we would then need 
+to explicitly keep track of which numerators corresponded to which de- 
+nominators. In a system intended to perform many operations on many 
+rational numbers, such bookkeeping details would clutter the programs 
+substantially, to say nothing of what they would do to our minds. It 
+would be much better if we could "glue together" a numerator and de- 
+nominator to form a pair— a compound data object— that our programs 
+could manipulate in a way that would be consistent with regarding a 
+rational number as a single conceptual unit. 
+
+The use of compound data also enables us to increase the modular- 
+ity of our programs. If we can manipulate rational numbers directly as 
+objects in their own right, then we can separate the part of our program 
+that deals with rational numbers per se from the details of how rational 
+numbers may be represented as pairs of integers. The general technique 
+of isolating the parts of a program that deal with how data objects are 
+represented from the parts of a program that deal with how data objects 
+are used is a powerful design methodology called data abstraction. We 
+will see how data abstraction makes programs much easier to design, 
+maintain, and modify. 
+
+The use of compound data leads to a real increase in the expressive 
+power of our programming language. Consider the idea of forming a 
+"linear combination" ax + by. We might like to write a procedure that 
+would accept a, b, x, and y as arguments and return the value of ax + by. 
+This presents no difficulty if the arguments are to be numbers, because 
+we can readily define the procedure 
+
+(define (linear-combination a b x y) 
+
+(+ (* a x) (* b y))) 
+
+
+
+109 
+
+
+
+But suppose we are not concerned only with numbers. Suppose we 
+would like to express, in procedural terms, the idea that one can form 
+linear combinations whenever addition and multiplication are defined— 
+for rational numbers, complex numbers, polynomials, or whatever. We 
+could express this as a procedure of the form 
+
+(define (linear-combination a b x y) 
+(add (mul a x) (mul b y))) 
+
+where add and mul are not the primitive procedures + and * but rather 
+more complex things that will perform the appropriate operations for 
+whatever kinds of data we pass in as the arguments a, b, x, and y. The 
+key point is that the only thing linear-combination should need to 
+know about a, b, x, and y is that the procedures add and mul will per- 
+form the appropriate manipulations. From the perspective of the pro- 
+cedure linear-combination, it is irrelevant what a, b, x, and y are and 
+even more irrelevant how they might happen to be represented in terms 
+of more primitive data. This same example shows why it is important 
+that our programming language provide the ability to manipulate com- 
+pound objects directly: Without this, there is no way for a procedure 
+such as linear-combination to pass its arguments along to add and 
+mul without having to know their detailed structure. 1 
+
+1 The ability to directly manipulate procedures provides an analogous increase in the 
+expressive power of a programming language. For example, in Section 1.3.1 we intro- 
+duced the sum procedure, which takes a procedure term as an argument and computes 
+the sum of the values of term over some specified interval. In order to define sum, it 
+is crucial that we be able to speak of a procedure such as term as an entity in its own 
+right, without regard for how term might be expressed with more primitive operations. 
+Indeed, if we did not have the notion of "a procedure," it is doubtful that we would ever 
+even think of the possibility of defining an operation such as sum. Moreover, insofar as 
+performing the summation is concerned, the details of how term may be constructed 
+from more primitive operations are irrelevant. 
+
+
+
+110 
+
+
+
+We begin this chapter by implementing the rational-number arith- 
+metic system mentioned above. This will form the background for our 
+discussion of compound data and data abstraction. As with compound 
+procedures, the main issue to be addressed is that of abstraction as a 
+technique for coping with complexity and we will see how data ab- 
+straction enables us to erect suitable abstraction barriers between differ- 
+ent parts of a program. 
+
+We will see that the key to forming compound data is that a pro- 
+gramming language should provide some kind of "glue" so that data 
+objects can be combined to form more complex data objects. There are 
+many possible kinds of glue. Indeed, we will discover how to form com- 
+pound data using no special "data" operations at all, only procedures. 
+This will further blur the distinction between "procedure" and "data," 
+which was already becoming tenuous toward the end of chapter 1. We 
+will also explore some conventional techniques for representing sequences 
+and trees. One key idea in dealing with compound data is the notion of 
+closure— that the glue we use for combining data objects should allow 
+us to combine not only primitive data objects, but compound data ob- 
+jects as well. Another key idea is that compound data objects can serve 
+as conventional interfaces for combining program modules in mix-and- 
+match ways. We illustrate some of these ideas by presenting a simple 
+graphics language that exploits closure. 
+
+We will then augment the representational power of our language 
+by introducing symbolic expressions— data whose elementary parts can 
+be arbitrary symbols rather than only numbers. We explore various al- 
+ternatives for representing sets of objects. We will find that, just as a 
+given numerical function can be computed by many different computa- 
+tional processes, there are many ways in which a given data structure 
+can be represented in terms of simpler objects, and the choice of rep- 
+resentation can have significant impact on the time and space require- 
+
+
+
+Ill 
+
+
+
+ments of processes that manipulate the data. We will investigate these 
+ideas in the context of symbolic differentiation, the representation of 
+sets, and the encoding of information. 
+
+Next we will take up the problem of working with data that may be 
+represented differently by different parts of a program. This leads to the 
+need to implement generic operations, which must handle many different 
+types of data. Maintaining modularity in the presence of generic oper- 
+ations requires more powerful abstraction barriers than can be erected 
+with simple data abstraction alone. In particular, we introduce data- 
+directed programming as a technique that allows individual data repre- 
+sentations to be designed in isolation and then combined additively (i.e., 
+without modification). To illustrate the power of this approach to sys- 
+tem design, we close the chapter by applying what we have learned to 
+the implementation of a package for performing symbolic arithmetic on 
+polynomials, in which the coefficients of the polynomials can be inte- 
+gers, rational numbers, complex numbers, and even other polynomials. 
+
+2.1 Introduction to Data Abstraction 
+
+In Section 1.1.8, we noted that a procedure used as an element in creat- 
+ing a more complex procedure could be regarded not only as a collection 
+of particular operations but also as a procedural abstraction. That is, the 
+details of how the procedure was implemented could be suppressed, 
+and the particular procedure itself could be replaced by any other pro- 
+cedure with the same overall behavior. In other words, we could make 
+an abstraction that would separate the way the procedure would be used 
+from the details of how the procedure would be implemented in terms 
+of more primitive procedures. The analogous notion for compound data 
+is called data abstraction. Data abstraction is a methodology that enables 
+
+
+
+112 
+
+
+
+us to isolate how a compound data object is used from the details of how 
+it is constructed from more primitive data objects. 
+
+The basic idea of data abstraction is to structure the programs that 
+are to use compound data objects so that they operate on "abstract data." 
+That is, our programs should use data in such a way as to make no as- 
+sumptions about the data that are not strictly necessary for performing 
+the task at hand. At the same time, a "concrete" data representation is 
+defined independent of the programs that use the data. The interface be- 
+tween these two parts of our system will be a set of procedures, called se- 
+lectors and constructors, that implement the abstract data in terms of the 
+concrete representation. To illustrate this technique, we will consider 
+how to design a set of procedures for manipulating rational numbers. 
+
+2.1.1 Example: Arithmetic Operations 
+for Rational Numbers 
+
+Suppose we want to do arithmetic with rational numbers. We want to 
+be able to add, subtract, multiply, and divide them and to test whether 
+two rational numbers are equal. 
+
+Let us begin by assuming that we already have a way of construct- 
+ing a rational number from a numerator and a denominator. We also 
+assume that, given a rational number, we have a way of extracting (or 
+selecting) its numerator and its denominator. Let us further assume that 
+the constructor and selectors are available as procedures: 
+
+• (make-rat (n) (d)) returns the rational number whose numera- 
+tor is the integer (n) and whose denominator is the integer (d). 
+
+• (numer (x)) returns the numerator of the rational number (x). 
+
+• (denom (x)) returns the denominator of the rational number (x). 
+
+
+
+113 
+
+
+
+We are using here a powerful strategy of synthesis: wishful thinking. 
+We haven't yet said how a rational number is represented, or how the 
+procedures numer, denom, and make-rat should be implemented. Even 
+so, if we did have these three procedures, we could then add, subtract, 
+multiply, divide, and test equality by using the following relations: 
+
+
+
+n x n 2 
+
+
+n x d 2 + n 2 di 
+
+
+
+
+d\d 2 
+
+
+«1 «2 
+
+
+_ n x d 2 - n 2 di 
+
+
+d\ d 2 
+
+
+d\d 2 
+
+
+
+
+_ n x n 2 
+
+
+d\ d z 
+
+
+d\d 2 ' 
+
+
+ni/d 1 
+
+
+_ n x d 2 
+
+
+n 2 /d 2 
+
+
+d\n 2 
+
+
+«i 
+dt 
+
+
+= — if and only if n\ d 2 = n 2 d\ 
+d 2 
+
+
+
+We can express these rules as procedures: 
+
+(define (add-rat x y) 
+(make-rat (+ (* (numer 
+(* (numer 
+(* (denom x) 
+(define (sub-rat x y) 
+(make-rat (- (* (numer 
+(* (numer 
+(* (denom x) 
+(define (mul-rat x y) 
+(make-rat (* (numer x) 
+(* (denom x) 
+(define (div-rat x y) 
+(make-rat (* (numer x) 
+(* (denom x) 
+
+
+
+114 
+
+
+
+x) (denom y)) 
+y) (denom x))) 
+(denom y)))) 
+
+x) (denom y)) 
+y) (denom x))) 
+(denom y)))) 
+
+(numer y)) 
+(denom y)))) 
+
+(denom y)) 
+(numer y)))) 
+
+
+
+(define (equal-rat? x y) 
+(= (* (numer x) (denom y)) 
+(* (numer y) (denom x)))) 
+
+Now we have the operations on rational numbers defined in terms 
+of the selector and constructor procedures numer, denom, and make-rat. 
+But we haven't yet defined these. What we need is some way to glue 
+together a numerator and a denominator to form a rational number. 
+
+Pairs 
+
+To enable us to implement the concrete level of our data abstraction, 
+our language provides a compound structure called a pair, which can 
+be constructed with the primitive procedure cons. This procedure takes 
+two arguments and returns a compound data object that contains the 
+two arguments as parts. Given a pair, we can extract the parts using the 
+primitive procedures car and cdr. 2 Thus, we can use cons, car, and cdr 
+as follows: 
+
+(define x (cons 1 2)) 
+
+(car x) 
+
+I 
+
+(cdr x) 
+2 
+
+Notice that a pair is a data object that can be given a name and manip- 
+ulated, just like a primitive data object. Moreover, cons can be used to 
+form pairs whose elements are pairs, and so on: 
+
+2 The name cons stands for "construct." The names car and cdr derive from the orig- 
+inal implementation of Lisp on the IBM 704. That machine had an addressing scheme 
+that allowed one to reference the "address" and "decrement" parts of a memory location. 
+Car stands for "Contents of Address part of Register" and cdr (pronounced "could-er") 
+stands for "Contents of Decrement part of Register." 
+
+
+
+115 
+
+
+
+(define x (cons 1 2)) 
+
+(define y (cons 3 4)) 
+
+(define z (cons x y)) 
+(car (car z)) 
+
+; 
+
+(car (cdr z)) 
+3 
+
+In Section 2.2 we will see how this ability to combine pairs means that 
+pairs can be used as general-purpose building blocks to create all sorts 
+of complex data structures. The single compound-data primitive pair, 
+implemented by the procedures cons, car, and cdr, is the only glue we 
+need. Data objects constructed from pairs are called list- structured data. 
+
+Representing rational numbers 
+
+Pairs offer a natural way to complete the rational-number system. Sim- 
+ply represent a rational number as a pair of two integers: a numerator 
+and a denominator. Then make-rat, numer, and denom are readily im- 
+plemented as follows: 3 
+
+3 Another way to define the selectors and constructor is 
+
+(define make-rat cons) 
+(define numer car) 
+(define denom cdr) 
+
+The first definition associates the name make-rat with the value of the expression 
+cons, which is the primitive procedure that constructs pairs. Thus make-rat and cons 
+are names for the same primitive constructor. 
+
+Defining selectors and constructors in this way is efficient: Instead of make-rat call- 
+ing cons, make-rat is cons, so there is only one procedure called, not two, when make- 
+rat is called. On the other hand, doing this defeats debugging aids that trace procedure 
+calls or put breakpoints on procedure calls: You may want to watch make- rat being 
+called, but you certainly don't want to watch every call to cons. 
+
+We have chosen not to use this style of definition in this book. 
+
+
+
+116 
+
+
+
+(define (make-rat n d) (cons n d)) 
+(define (numer x) (car x)) 
+(define (denom x) (cdr x)) 
+
+Also, in order to display the results of our computations, we can print 
+rational numbers by printing the numerator, a slash, and the denomi- 
+nator: 4 
+
+(define (print-rat x) 
+(newline) 
+
+(display (numer x)) 
+(display "/") 
+(display (denom x))) 
+
+Now we can try our rational-number procedures: 
+
+(define one-half (make-rat 1 2)) 
+(print-rat one-half) 
+
+7/2 
+
+(define one-third (make-rat 1 3)) 
+(print-rat (add-rat one-half one-third)) 
+
+5/6 
+
+(print-rat (mul-rat one-half one-third)) 
+
+7/6 
+
+(print-rat (add-rat one-third one-third)) 
+
+6/9 
+
+As the final example shows, our rational-number implementation does 
+not reduce rational numbers to lowest terms. We can remedy this by 
+changing make- rat. If we have a gcd procedure like the one in Section 
+1.2.5 that produces the greatest common divisor of two integers, we can 
+
+4 Display is the Scheme primitive for printing data. The Scheme primitive newline 
+starts a new line for printing. Neither of these procedures returns a useful value, so 
+in the uses of print-rat below, we show only what print-rat prints, not what the 
+interpreter prints as the value returned by print-rat. 
+
+
+
+117 
+
+
+
+use gcd to reduce the numerator and the denominator to lowest terms 
+before constructing the pair: 
+
+(define (make-rat n d) 
+(let ((g (gcd n d))) 
+
+(cons (/ n g) (/ d g)))) 
+
+Now we have 
+
+(print-rat (add-rat one-third one-third)) 
+
+2/3 
+
+as desired. This modification was accomplished by changing the con- 
+structor make-rat without changing any of the procedures (such as 
+add-rat and mul-rat) that implement the actual operations. 
+
+Exercise 2.T: Define abetter version of make- rat that han- 
+dles both positive and negative arguments. Make-rat should 
+normalize the sign so that if the rational number is positive, 
+both the numerator and denominator are positive, and if 
+the rational number is negative, only the numerator is neg- 
+ative. 
+
+2.1.2 Abstraction Barriers 
+
+Before continuing with more examples of compound data and data ab- 
+straction, let us consider some of the issues raised by the rational-number 
+example. We defined the rational-number operations in terms of a con- 
+structor make-rat and selectors numer and denom. In general, the under- 
+lying idea of data abstraction is to identify for each type of data object 
+a basic set of operations in terms of which all manipulations of data 
+objects of that type will be expressed, and then to use only those oper- 
+ations in manipulating the data. 
+
+
+
+118 
+
+
+
+Programs that use rational numbers 
+
+
+
+Rational numbers in problem domain 
+
+
+
+
+
+add-rat sub-rat 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Rational numbers as numerators and denominators 
+
+
+
+
+
+make-rat numer denom 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Rational numbers as pairs 
+
+
+
+
+
+cons car cdr 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+However pairs are implemented 
+
+
+
+Figure 2.1: Data-abstraction barriers in the rational- 
+number package. 
+
+We can envision the structure of the rational-number system as 
+shown in Figure 2.1. The horizontal lines represent abstraction barriers 
+that isolate different "levels" of the system. At each level, the barrier 
+separates the programs (above) that use the data abstraction from the 
+programs (below) that implement the data abstraction. Programs that 
+use rational numbers manipulate them solely in terms of the proce- 
+dures supplied "for public use" by the rational-number package: add- 
+rat, sub-rat, mul-rat, div-rat, and equal-rat?. These, in turn, are 
+implemented solely in terms of the constructor and selectors make-rat, 
+numer, and denom, which themselves are implemented in terms of pairs. 
+The details of how pairs are implemented are irrelevant to the rest of 
+the rational-number package so long as pairs can be manipulated by 
+the use of cons, car, and cdr. In effect, procedures at each level are the 
+
+
+
+119 
+
+
+
+interfaces that define the abstraction barriers and connect the different 
+levels. 
+
+This simple idea has many advantages. One advantage is that it 
+makes programs much easier to maintain and to modify. Any complex 
+data structure can be represented in a variety of ways with the prim- 
+itive data structures provided by a programming language. Of course, 
+the choice of representation influences the programs that operate on it; 
+thus, if the representation were to be changed at some later time, all 
+such programs might have to be modified accordingly. This task could 
+be time-consuming and expensive in the case of large programs unless 
+the dependence on the representation were to be confined by design to 
+a very few program modules. 
+
+For example, an alternate way to address the problem of reducing 
+rational numbers to lowest terms is to perform the reduction whenever 
+we access the parts of a rational number, rather than when we construct 
+it. This leads to different constructor and selector procedures: 
+
+(define (make-rat n d) (cons n d)) 
+(define (numer x) 
+
+(let ((g (gcd (car x) (cdr x)))) 
+(/ (car x) g))) 
+(define (denom x) 
+
+(let ((g (gcd (car x) (cdr x)))) 
+(/ (cdr x) g))) 
+
+The difference between this implementation and the previous one lies 
+in when we compute the gcd. If in our typical use of rational numbers 
+we access the numerators and denominators of the same rational num- 
+bers many times, it would be preferable to compute the gcd when the 
+rational numbers are constructed. If not, we may be better off waiting 
+until access time to compute the gcd. In any case, when we change from 
+
+
+
+120 
+
+
+
+one representation to the other, the procedures add- rat, sub- rat, and 
+so on do not have to be modified at all. 
+
+Constraining the dependence on the representation to a few in- 
+terface procedures helps us design programs as well as modify them, 
+because it allows us to maintain the flexibility to consider alternate 
+implementations. To continue with our simple example, suppose we 
+are designing a rational-number package and we can't decide initially 
+whether to perform the gcd at construction time or at selection time. 
+The data-abstraction methodology gives us a way to defer that decision 
+without losing the ability to make progress on the rest of the system. 
+
+Exercise 2.2: Consider the problem of representing line 
+segments in a plane. Each segment is represented as a pair 
+of points: a starting point and an ending point. Define a 
+constructor make-segment and selectors start-segment and 
+end-segment that define the representation of segments in 
+terms of points. Furthermore, a point can be represented 
+as a pair of numbers: the x coordinate and the y coordi- 
+nate. Accordingly, specify a constructor make-point and 
+selectors x-point and y-point that define this representa- 
+tion. Finally, using your selectors and constructors, define a 
+procedure midpoint-segment that takes a line segment as 
+argument and returns its midpoint (the point whose coor- 
+dinates are the average of the coordinates of the endpoints). 
+To try your procedures, you'll need a way to print points: 
+
+(define (print-point p) 
+(newline) 
+(display "(") 
+(display (x-point p)) 
+(display " , ") 
+
+
+
+121 
+
+
+
+(display (y-point p)) 
+(display ")")) 
+
+
+
+Exercise 2.3: Implement a representation for rectangles in 
+aplane. (Hint: You may want to make use of Exercise 2.2.) In 
+terms of your constructors and selectors, create procedures 
+that compute the perimeter and the area of a given rectan- 
+gle. Now implement a different representation for rectan- 
+gles. Can you design your system with suitable abstraction 
+barriers, so that the same perimeter and area procedures 
+will work using either representation? 
+
+2.1.3 What Is Meant by Data? 
+
+We began the rational-number implementation in Section 2.1.1 by im- 
+plementing the rational-number operations add- rat, sub- rat, and so 
+on in terms of three unspecified procedures: make- rat, numer, and denom. 
+At that point, we could think of the operations as being defined in terms 
+of data objects— numerators, denominators, and rational numbers— whose 
+behavior was specified by the latter three procedures. 
+
+But exactly what is meant by data? It is not enough to say "whatever 
+is implemented by the given selectors and constructors." Clearly, not 
+every arbitrary set of three procedures can serve as an appropriate basis 
+for the rational-number implementation. We need to guarantee that, if 
+we construct a rational number x from a pair of integers n and d, then 
+extracting the numer and the denom of x and dividing them should yield 
+the same result as dividing n by d. In other words, make-rat, numer, 
+and denom must satisfy the condition that, for any integer n and any 
+
+
+
+122 
+
+
+
+non-zero integer d, if x is (make-rat n d), then 
+
+(numer x) n 
+(denom x) d 
+
+In fact, this is the only condition make- rat, numer, and denom must fulfill 
+in order to form a suitable basis for a rational-number representation. 
+In general, we can think of data as defined by some collection of se- 
+lectors and constructors, together with specified conditions that these 
+procedures must fulfill in order to be a valid representation. 5 
+
+This point of view can serve to define not only "high-level" data ob- 
+jects, such as rational numbers, but lower-level objects as well. Consider 
+the notion of a pair, which we used in order to define our rational num- 
+bers. We never actually said what a pair was, only that the language 
+supplied procedures cons, car, and cdr for operating on pairs. But the 
+only thing we need to know about these three operations is that if we 
+glue two objects together using cons we can retrieve the objects using 
+car and cdr. That is, the operations satisfy the condition that, for any 
+objects x and y, if z is (cons x y) then (car z) is x and (cdr z) is y. 
+
+5 Surprisingly, this idea is very difficult to formulate rigorously. There are two ap- 
+proaches to giving such a formulation. One, pioneered by C. A. R. Hoare (1972), is 
+known as the method of abstract models. It formalizes the "procedures plus conditions" 
+specification as outlined in the rational-number example above. Note that the condi- 
+tion on the rational-number representation was stated in terms of facts about integers 
+(equality and division). In general, abstract models define new kinds of data objects 
+in terms of previously defined types of data objects. Assertions about data objects can 
+therefore be checked by reducing them to assertions about previously defined data ob- 
+jects. Another approach, introduced by Zilles at mit, by Goguen, Thatcher, Wagner, 
+and Wright at IBM (see Thatcher et al. 1978), and by Guttag at Toronto (see Guttag 
+1977), is called algebraic specification. It regards the "procedures" as elements of an ab- 
+stract algebraic system whose behavior is specified by axioms that correspond to our 
+"conditions," and uses the techniques of abstract algebra to check assertions about data 
+objects. Both methods are surveyed in the paper by Liskov and Zilles (1975). 
+
+
+
+123 
+
+
+
+Indeed, we mentioned that these three procedures are included as prim- 
+itives in our language. However, any triple of procedures that satisfies 
+the above condition can be used as the basis for implementing pairs. 
+This point is illustrated strikingly by the fact that we could implement 
+cons, car, and cdr without using any data structures at all but only 
+using procedures. Here are the definitions: 
+
+(define (cons x y) 
+(define (dispatch m) 
+(cond ((= m 0) x) 
+((= m 1) y) 
+
+(else (error "Argument not 0 or 1 : CONS" m)))) 
+dispatch) 
+(define (car z) (z 0)) 
+(define (cdr z) (z 1)) 
+
+This use of procedures corresponds to nothing like our intuitive notion 
+of what data should be. Nevertheless, all we need to do to show that 
+this is a valid way to represent pairs is to verify that these procedures 
+satisfy the condition given above. 
+
+The subtle point to notice is that the value returned by (cons x y ) is 
+a procedure— namely the internally defined procedure dispatch, which 
+takes one argument and returns either x or y depending on whether the 
+argument is 0 or 1. Correspondingly, (car z) is defined to apply z to 0. 
+Hence, if z is the procedure formed by (cons x y), then z applied to 0 
+will yield x. Thus, we have shown that (car (cons x y)) yields x, as 
+desired. Similarly, (cdr (cons x y)) applies the procedure returned by 
+(cons x y) to 1, which returns y. Therefore, this procedural implemen- 
+tation of pairs is a valid implementation, and if we access pairs using 
+only cons, car, and cdr we cannot distinguish this implementation from 
+one that uses "real" data structures. 
+
+The point of exhibiting the procedural representation of pairs is not 
+
+
+
+124 
+
+
+
+that our language works this way (Scheme, and Lisp systems in general, 
+implement pairs directly, for efficiency reasons) but that it could work 
+this way. The procedural representation, although obscure, is a perfectly 
+adequate way to represent pairs, since it fulfills the only conditions that 
+pairs need to fulfill. This example also demonstrates that the ability to 
+manipulate procedures as objects automatically provides the ability to 
+represent compound data. This may seem a curiosity now, but procedu- 
+ral representations of data will play a central role in our programming 
+repertoire. This style of programming is often called message passing, 
+and we will be using it as a basic tool in Chapter 3 when we address the 
+issues of modeling and simulation. 
+
+Exercise 2.4: Here is an alternative procedural representa- 
+tion of pairs. For this representation, verify that (car (cons 
+x y)) yields x for any objects x and y. 
+
+(define (cons x y) 
+
+(lambda (m) (m x y))) 
+(define (car z) 
+
+(z (lambda (p q) p))) 
+
+What is the corresponding definition of cdr? (Hint: To ver- 
+ify that this works, make use of the substitution model of 
+Section 1.1.5.) 
+
+Exercise 2.5: Show that we can represent pairs of nonneg- 
+ative integers using only numbers and arithmetic opera- 
+tions if we represent the pair a and b as the integer that is 
+the product 2 a 3 b . Give the corresponding definitions of the 
+procedures cons, car, and cdr. 
+
+
+
+125 
+
+
+
+Exercise 2.6: In case representing pairs as procedures wasn't 
+mind-boggling enough, consider that, in a language that 
+can manipulate procedures, we can get by without numbers 
+(at least insofar as nonnegative integers are concerned) by 
+implementing 0 and the operation of adding 1 as 
+
+(define zero (lambda (f) (lambda (x) x))) 
+(define (add-1 n) 
+
+(lambda (f) (lambda (x) (f ((n f) x))))) 
+
+This representation is known as Church numerals, after its 
+inventor, Alonzo Church, the logician who invented the X- 
+calculus. 
+
+Define one and two directly (not in terms of zero and add- 
+1). (Hint: Use substitution to evaluate (add-1 zero)). Give 
+a direct definition of the addition procedure + (not in terms 
+of repeated application of add-1). 
+
+2.1.4 Extended Exercise: Interval Arithmetic 
+
+Alyssa P. Hacker is designing a system to help people solve engineer- 
+ing problems. One feature she wants to provide in her system is the 
+ability to manipulate inexact quantities (such as measured parameters 
+of physical devices) with known precision, so that when computations 
+are done with such approximate quantities the results will be numbers 
+of known precision. 
+
+Electrical engineers will be using Alyssa's system to compute elec- 
+trical quantities. It is sometimes necessary for them to compute the 
+value of a parallel equivalent resistance R p of two resistors R u R 2 using 
+the formula 
+
+Rp = 1/R l + 1/R 2 ' 
+
+
+
+126 
+
+
+
+Resistance values are usually known only up to some tolerance guaran- 
+teed by the manufacturer of the resistor. For example, if you buy a resis- 
+tor labeled "6.8 ohms with 10% tolerance" you can only be sure that the 
+resistor has a resistance between 6.8 - 0.68 = 6.12 and 6.8 + 0.68 = 7.48 
+ohms. Thus, if you have a 6.8-ohm 10% resistor in parallel with a 4.7-ohm 
+5% resistor, the resistance of the combination can range from about 2.58 
+ohms (if the two resistors are at the lower bounds) to about 2.97 ohms 
+(if the two resistors are at the upper bounds). 
+
+Alyssa's idea is to implement "interval arithmetic" as a set of arith- 
+metic operations for combining "intervals" (objects that represent the 
+range of possible values of an inexact quantity). The result of adding, 
+subtracting, multiplying, or dividing two intervals is itself an interval, 
+representing the range of the result. 
+
+Alyssa postulates the existence of an abstract object called an "in- 
+terval" that has two endpoints: a lower bound and an upper bound. She 
+also presumes that, given the endpoints of an interval, she can con- 
+struct the interval using the data constructor make-interval. Alyssa 
+first writes a procedure for adding two intervals. She reasons that the 
+minimum value the sum could be is the sum of the two lower bounds 
+and the maximum value it could be is the sum of the two upper bounds: 
+
+(define (add-interval x y) 
+
+(make-interval (+ (lower-bound x) (lower-bound y)) 
+
+(+ (upper-bound x) (upper-bound y)))) 
+
+Alyssa also works out the product of two intervals by finding the min- 
+imum and the maximum of the products of the bounds and using them 
+as the bounds of the resulting interval. (Min and max are primitives that 
+find the minimum or maximum of any number of arguments.) 
+
+(define (mul-interval x y) 
+
+(let ((p1 (* (lower-bound x) (lower-bound y))) 
+
+
+
+127 
+
+
+
+(p2 (* (lower-bound x) (upper-bound y))) 
+(p3 (* (upper-bound x) (lower-bound y))) 
+(p4 (* (upper-bound x) (upper-bound y)))) 
+(make-interval (min p1 p2 p3 p4) 
+
+(max pi p2 p3 p4)))) 
+
+To divide two intervals, Alyssa multiplies the first by the reciprocal of 
+the second. Note that the bounds of the reciprocal interval are the re- 
+ciprocal of the upper bound and the reciprocal of the lower bound, in 
+that order. 
+
+(define (div-interval x y) 
+(mul-interval 
+x 
+
+(make-interval (/ 1.0 (upper-bound y)) 
+
+(/ 1.0 (lower-bound y))))) 
+
+Exercise 2.7: Alyssa's program is incomplete because she 
+has not specified the implementation of the interval ab- 
+straction. Here is a definition of the interval constructor: 
+
+(define (make-interval a b) (cons a b)) 
+
+Define selectors upper-bound and lower-bound to complete 
+the implementation. 
+
+Exercise 2.8: Using reasoning analogous to Alyssa's, de- 
+scribe how the difference of two intervals may be com- 
+puted. Define a corresponding subtraction procedure, called 
+sub-interval. 
+
+Exercise 2.9: The width of an interval is half of the differ- 
+ence between its upper and lower bounds. The width is a 
+
+
+
+128 
+
+
+
+measure of the uncertainty of the number specified by the 
+interval. For some arithmetic operations the width of the 
+result of combining two intervals is a function only of the 
+widths of the argument intervals, whereas for others the 
+width of the combination is not a function of the widths of 
+the argument intervals. Show that the width of the sum (or 
+difference) of two intervals is a function only of the widths 
+of the intervals being added (or subtracted). Give examples 
+to show that this is not true for multiplication or division. 
+
+Exercise 2. TO: Ben Bitdiddle, an expert systems program- 
+mer, looks over Alyssa's shoulder and comments that it is 
+not clear what it means to divide by an interval that spans 
+zero. Modify Alyssa's code to check for this condition and 
+to signal an error if it occurs. 
+
+Exercise 2.TT: In passing, Ben also cryptically comments: 
+"By testing the signs of the endpoints of the intervals, it is 
+possible to break mul-interval into nine cases, only one 
+of which requires more than two multiplications." Rewrite 
+this procedure using Ben's suggestion. 
+
+After debugging her program, Alyssa shows it to a poten- 
+tial user, who complains that her program solves the wrong 
+problem. He wants a program that can deal with numbers 
+represented as a center value and an additive tolerance; for 
+example, he wants to work with intervals such as 3.5 ± 0.15 
+rather than [3.35, 3.65]. Alyssa returns to her desk and fixes 
+this problem by supplying an alternate constructor and al- 
+ternate selectors: 
+
+
+
+129 
+
+
+
+(define (make-center-width c w) 
+
+(make-interval (- c w) (+ c w))) 
+(define (center i) 
+
+(/ (+ (lower-bound i) (upper-bound i)) 2)) 
+(define (width i) 
+
+(/ (- (upper-bound i) (lower-bound i)) 2)) 
+
+Unfortunately, most of Alyssa's users are engineers. Real 
+engineering situations usually involve measurements with 
+only a small uncertainty, measured as the ratio of the width 
+of the interval to the midpoint of the interval. Engineers 
+usually specify percentage tolerances on the parameters of 
+devices, as in the resistor specifications given earlier. 
+
+Exercise 2.T2: Define a constructor make-center-percent 
+that takes a center and a percentage tolerance and pro- 
+duces the desired interval. You must also define a selector 
+percent that produces the percentage tolerance for a given 
+interval. The center selector is the same as the one shown 
+above. 
+
+Exercise 2.T3: Show that under the assumption of small 
+percentage tolerances there is a simple formula for the ap- 
+proximate percentage tolerance of the product of two in- 
+tervals in terms of the tolerances of the factors. You may 
+simplify the problem by assuming that all numbers are pos- 
+itive. 
+
+After considerable work, Alyssa P. Hacker delivers her fin- 
+ished system. Several years later, after she has forgotten all 
+about it, she gets a frenzied call from an irate user, Lem E. 
+Tweakit. It seems that Lem has noticed that the formula for 
+
+
+
+130 
+
+
+
+parallel resistors can be written in two algebraically equiv- 
+alent ways: 
+
+R1R2 
+R1+R2 
+
+and 
+
+
+
+l/Ri + 1/R2 
+
+He has written the following two programs, each of which 
+computes the parallel-resistors formula differently: 
+
+(define (pari rl r2) 
+
+(div-interval (mul-interval r1 r2) 
+
+(add-interval r1 r2))) 
+
+(define (par2 rl r2) 
+
+(let ((one (make-interval 1 1))) 
+(div-interval 
+
+one (add-interval (div-interval one rl) 
+
+(div-interval one r2))))) 
+
+
+
+Lem complains that Alyssa's program gives different an- 
+swers for the two ways of computing. This is a serious com- 
+plaint. 
+
+Exercise 2.T4: Demonstrate that Lem is right. Investigate 
+the behavior of the system on a variety of arithmetic ex- 
+pressions. Make some intervals A and B, and use them in 
+computing the expressions A /A and A/B. You will get the 
+most insight by using intervals whose width is a small per- 
+centage of the center value. Examine the results of the com- 
+putation in center-percent form (see Exercise 2.12). 
+
+
+
+131 
+
+
+
+Exercise 2.T5: Eva Lu Ator, another user, has also noticed 
+the different intervals computed by different but algebraically 
+equivalent expressions. She says that a formula to compute 
+with intervals using Alyssa's system will produce tighter 
+error bounds if it can be written in such a form that no vari- 
+able that represents an uncertain number is repeated. Thus, 
+she says, par 2 is a "better" program for parallel resistances 
+than pari . Is she right? Why? 
+
+Exercise 2.T6: Explain, in general, why equivalent alge- 
+braic expressions may lead to different answers. Can you 
+devise an interval-arithmetic package that does not have 
+this shortcoming, or is this task impossible? (Warning: This 
+problem is very difficult.) 
+
+2.2 Hierarchical Data and the Closure Property 
+
+As we have seen, pairs provide a primitive "glue" that we can use to 
+construct compound data objects. Figure 2.2 shows a standard way to 
+visualize a pair— in this case, the pair formed by (cons 1 2). In this 
+representation, which is called box-and-pointer notation, each object is 
+shown as a pointer to a box. The box for a primitive object contains a 
+representation of the object. For example, the box for a number contains 
+a numeral. The box for a pair is actually a double box, the left part con- 
+taining (a pointer to) the car of the pair and the right part containing 
+the cdr. 
+
+We have already seen that cons can be used to combine not only 
+numbers but pairs as well. (You made use of this fact, or should have, 
+in doing Exercise 2.2 and Exercise 2.3.) As a consequence, pairs pro- 
+vide a universal building block from which we can construct all sorts of 
+
+
+
+132 
+
+
+
+1 
+
+
+
+Figure 2.2: Box-and-pointer representation of (cons 1 2). 
+
+
+
+2 3 
+
+
+
+(cons (cons 1 2) 
+(cons 3 4)) 
+
+
+
+(cons (cons 1 
+
+
+
+(cons 2 3)) 
+
+
+
+4) 
+
+
+
+Figure 2.3: Two ways to combine 1, 2, 3, and 4 using pairs. 
+
+
+
+data structures. Figure 2.3 shows two ways to use pairs to combine the 
+numbers 1, 2, 3, and 4. 
+
+The ability to create pairs whose elements are pairs is the essence 
+of list structure's importance as a representational tool. We refer to this 
+ability as the closure property of cons. In general, an operation for com- 
+bining data objects satisfies the closure property if the results of com- 
+bining things with that operation can themselves be combined using the 
+same operation. 6 Closure is the key to power in any means of combina- 
+
+6 The use of the word "closure" here comes from abstract algebra, where a set of 
+
+
+
+133 
+
+
+
+tion because it permits us to create hierarchical structures— structures 
+made up of parts, which themselves are made up of parts, and so on. 
+
+From the outset of Chapter 1, we've made essential use of closure 
+in dealing with procedures, because all but the very simplest programs 
+rely on the fact that the elements of a combination can themselves be 
+combinations. In this section, we take up the consequences of closure 
+for compound data. We describe some conventional techniques for us- 
+ing pairs to represent sequences and trees, and we exhibit a graphics 
+language that illustrates closure in a vivid way. 7 
+
+2.2.1 Representing Sequences 
+
+One of the useful structures we can build with pairs is a sequence— an 
+ordered collection of data objects. There are, of course, many ways to 
+
+elements is said to be closed under an operation if applying the operation to elements 
+in the set produces an element that is again an element of the set. The Lisp community 
+also (unfortunately) uses the word "closure" to describe a totally unrelated concept: A 
+closure is an implementation technique for representing procedures with free variables. 
+We do not use the word "closure" in this second sense in this book. 
+
+7 1he notion that a means of combination should satisfy closure is a straightfor- 
+ward idea. Unfortunately, the data combiners provided in many popular programming 
+languages do not satisfy closure, or make closure cumbersome to exploit. In Fortran 
+or Basic, one typically combines data elements by assembling them into arrays— but 
+one cannot form arrays whose elements are themselves arrays. Pascal and C admit 
+structures whose elements are structures. However, this requires that the program- 
+mer manipulate pointers explicitly, and adhere to the restriction that each field of a 
+structure can contain only elements of a prespecified form. Unlike Lisp with its pairs, 
+these languages have no built-in general-purpose glue that makes it easy to manipulate 
+compound data in a uniform way. This limitation lies behind Alan Perlis's comment in 
+his foreword to this book: "In Pascal the plethora of declarable data structures induces 
+a specialization within functions that inhibits and penalizes casual cooperation. It is 
+better to have 100 functions operate on one data structure than to have 10 functions 
+operate on 10 data structures." 
+
+
+
+134 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1 
+
+
+> 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+> 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+i 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+• 
+
+\ 
+
+
+
+
+
+Figure 2.4: The sequence 1, 2, 3, 4 represented as a chain 
+of pairs. 
+
+represent sequences in terms of pairs. One particularly straightforward 
+representation is illustrated in Figure 2.4, where the sequence 1, 2, 3, 4 is 
+represented as a chain of pairs. The car of each pair is the corresponding 
+item in the chain, and the cdr of the pair is the next pair in the chain. 
+The cdr of the final pair signals the end of the sequence by pointing to 
+a distinguished value that is not a pair, represented in box-and-pointer 
+diagrams as a diagonal line and in programs as the value of the variable 
+nil. The entire sequence is constructed by nested cons operations: 
+
+(cons 1 
+
+(cons 2 
+
+(cons 3 
+
+(cons 4 nil)))) 
+
+Such a sequence of pairs, formed by nested conses, is called a list, 
+and Scheme provides a primitive called list to help in constructing 
+lists. 8 The above sequence could be produced by (list 1 2 3 4). In 
+general, 
+
+(list <«!> (a 2 ) . . . (a n )) 
+
+8 In this book, we use list to mean a chain of pairs terminated by the end-of-list 
+marker. In contrast, the term list structure refers to any data structure made out of pairs, 
+not just to lists. 
+
+
+
+135 
+
+
+
+is equivalent to 
+
+(cons {a\) 
+
+(cons (a 2 ) 
+
+(cons . . . 
+
+(cons (a„> 
+
+nil)...))) 
+
+Lisp systems conventionally print lists by printing the sequence of el- 
+ements, enclosed in parentheses. Thus, the data object in Figure 2.4 is 
+printed as (1 2 3 4): 
+
+(define one-through-four (list 1 2 3 4)) 
+one- through-four 
+
+(7 2 3 4) 
+
+Be careful not to confuse the expression (list 1 2 3 4) with the list 
+(1 2 3 4), which is the result obtained when the expression is evalu- 
+ated. Attempting to evaluate the expression (1 2 3 4) will signal an 
+error when the interpreter tries to apply the procedure 1 to arguments 
+2, 3, and 4. 
+
+We can think of car as selecting the first item in the list, and of 
+cdr as selecting the sublist consisting of all but the first item. Nested 
+applications of car and cdr can be used to extract the second, third, 
+and subsequent items in the list. 9 The constructor cons makes a list like 
+the original one, but with an additional item at the beginning. 
+
+9 Since nested applications of car and cdr are cumbersome to write, Lisp dialects 
+provide abbreviations for them— for instance, 
+
+(cadr (arg)) = (car (cdr (arg))) 
+
+The names of all such procedures start with c and end with r. Each a between them 
+stands for a car operation and each d for a cdr operation, to be applied in the same 
+order in which they appear in the name. The names car and cdr persist because simple 
+combinations like cadr are pronounceable. 
+
+
+
+136 
+
+
+
+(car one-through-four) 
+
+1 
+
+(cdr one-through-four) 
+
+(2 3 4) 
+
+(car (cdr one-through-four)) 
+
+2 
+
+(cons 10 one-through-four) 
+
+(10 1 2 3 4) 
+
+(cons 5 one-through-four) 
+
+(51234) 
+
+The value of nil, used to terminate the chain of pairs, can be thought of 
+as a sequence of no elements, the empty list. The word nil is a contraction 
+of the Latin word nihil, which means "nothing." 10 
+
+List operations 
+
+The use of pairs to represent sequences of elements as lists is accompa- 
+nied by conventional programming techniques for manipulating lists by 
+successively "cdring down" the lists. For example, the procedure list- 
+ref takes as arguments a list and a number n and returns the n th item 
+of the list. It is customary to number the elements of the list beginning 
+with 0. The method for computing list-ref is the following: 
+
+10 It's remarkable how much energy in the standardization of Lisp dialects has been 
+dissipated in arguments that are literally over nothing: Should nil be an ordinary 
+name? Should the value of nil be a symbol? Should it be a list? Should it be a pair? 
+In Scheme, nil is an ordinary name, which we use in this section as a variable whose 
+value is the end-of-list marker (just as t rue is an ordinary variable that has a true value). 
+Other dialects of Lisp, including Common Lisp, treat nil as a special symbol. The au- 
+thors of this book, who have endured too many language standardization brawls, would 
+like to avoid the entire issue. Once we have introduced quotation in Section 2.3, we will 
+denote the empty list as ' ( ) and dispense with the variable nil entirely. 
+
+
+
+137 
+
+
+
+• For n = 0, list-ref should return the car of the list. 
+
+• Otherwise, list-ref should return the (n - l)-st item of the cdr 
+of the list. 
+
+(define (list-ref items n) 
+(if (= n 0) 
+
+(car items) 
+
+(list-ref (cdr items) (- n 1)))) 
+(define squares (list 1 4 9 16 25)) 
+(list-ref squares 3) 
+76 
+
+Often we cdr down the whole list. To aid in this, Scheme includes a 
+primitive predicate null?, which tests whether its argument is the empty 
+list. The procedure length, which returns the number of items in a list, 
+illustrates this typical pattern of use: 
+
+(define (length items) 
+(if (null? items) 
+0 
+
+(+ 1 (length (cdr items))))) 
+(define odds (list 13 5 7)) 
+(length odds) 
+4 
+
+The length procedure implements a simple recursive plan. The reduc- 
+tion step is: 
+
+• The length of any list is 1 plus the length of the cdr of the list. 
+This is applied successively until we reach the base case: 
+
+• The length of the empty list is 0. 
+
+
+
+138 
+
+
+
+We could also compute length in an iterative style: 
+
+(define (length items) 
+
+(define (length-iter a count) 
+(if (null? a) 
+count 
+
+(length-iter (cdr a) (+ 1 count)))) 
+(length-iter items 0)) 
+
+Another conventional programming technique is to "cons up" an an- 
+swer list while cdring down a list, as in the procedure append, which 
+takes two lists as arguments and combines their elements to make a new 
+list: 
+
+(append squares odds) 
+(7 4 9 76 25 7 3 5 7) 
+(append odds squares) 
+(7 3 5 7 7 4 9 7 6 25) 
+
+Append is also implemented using a recursive plan. To append lists listl 
+and list2, do the following: 
+
+• If 1 i s 1 1 is the empty list, then the result is just 1 i s 1 2 . 
+
+• Otherwise, append the cdr of listl and list2, and cons the car 
+of listl onto the result: 
+
+(define (append listl list2) 
+(if (null? listl) 
+list2 
+
+(cons (car listl) (append (cdr listl) list2)))) 
+
+Exercise 2.T7: Define a procedure last-pair that returns 
+the list that contains only the last element of a given (nonempty) 
+list: 
+
+
+
+139 
+
+
+
+(last-pair (list 23 72 149 34)) 
+(34) 
+
+Exercise 2.T8: Define a procedure reverse that takes a list 
+as argument and returns a list of the same elements in re- 
+verse order: 
+
+(reverse (list 14 9 16 25)) 
+(25 16 9 4 1) 
+
+Exercise 2.T9: Consider the change-counting program of 
+Section 1.2.2. It would be nice to be able to easily change the 
+currency used by the program, so that we could compute 
+the number of ways to change a British pound, for example. 
+As the program is written, the knowledge of the currency is 
+distributed partly into the procedure first-denomination 
+and partly into the procedure count-change (which knows 
+that there are five kinds of U.S. coins). It would be nicer 
+to be able to supply a list of coins to be used for making 
+change. 
+
+We want to rewrite the procedure cc so that its second ar- 
+gument is a list of the values of the coins to use rather than 
+an integer specifying which coins to use. We could then 
+have lists that defined each kind of currency: 
+
+(define us-coins (list 50 25 10 5 1)) 
+
+(define uk-coins (list 100 50 20 10 5 2 1 0.5)) 
+
+We could then call cc as follows: 
+
+(cc 100 us-coins) 
+
+292 
+
+
+
+140 
+
+
+
+To do this will require changing the program cc somewhat. 
+It will still have the same form, but it will access its second 
+argument differently, as follows: 
+
+(define (cc amount coin-values) 
+(cond ((= amount 0) 1) 
+
+((or (< amount 0) (no-more? coin-values)) 0) 
+(else 
+(+ (cc amount 
+
+(except-f irst-denomi nation 
+coin-values)) 
+(cc (- amount 
+
+(first-denomination 
+coin-values)) 
+coin-values))))) 
+
+Define the procedures first-denomination, except-f irst- 
+de- nomination, and no-more? in terms of primitive op- 
+erations on list structures. Does the order of the list coin- 
+values affect the answer produced by cc? Why or why not? 
+
+Exercise 2.20: The procedures +, *, and list take arbitrary 
+numbers of arguments. One way to define such procedures 
+is to use define with dotted-tail notation. In a procedure 
+definition, a parameter list that has a dot before the last pa- 
+rameter name indicates that, when the procedure is called, 
+the initial parameters (if any) will have as values the initial 
+arguments, as usual, but the final parameter's value will be 
+a list of any remaining arguments. For instance, given the 
+definition 
+
+(define (f x y . z) {body}) 
+
+
+
+141 
+
+
+
+the procedure f can be called with two or more arguments. 
+If we evaluate 
+
+(f 1 2 3 4 5 6) 
+
+then in the body of f, x will be 1, y will be 2, and z will be 
+the list (3 4 5 6). Given the definition 
+
+(define (g . w) (body)) 
+
+the procedure g can be called with zero or more arguments. 
+If we evaluate 
+
+(g 1 2 3 4 5 6) 
+
+then in the body of g, w will be the list ( 1 2 3 4 5 6). 11 
+
+Use this notation to write a procedure same-parity that 
+takes one or more integers and returns a list of all the ar- 
+guments that have the same even-odd parity as the first 
+argument. For example, 
+
+(same-parity 1 2 3 4 5 6 7) 
+
+(13 5 7) 
+
+(same-parity 2 3 4 5 6 7) 
+
+(2 4 6) 
+
+
+
+11 To define f and g using lambda we would write 
+
+(define f (lambda (x y . z) (body))) 
+(define g (lambda w (body))) 
+
+
+
+142 
+
+
+
+Mapping over lists 
+
+One extremely useful operation is to apply some transformation to each 
+element in a list and generate the list of results. For instance, the follow- 
+ing procedure scales each number in a list by a given factor: 
+
+(define (scale-list items factor) 
+(if (null? items) 
+nil 
+
+(cons (* (car items) factor) 
+(scale-list (cdr items) 
+factor)))) 
+(scale-list (list 1 2 3 4 5) 10) 
+(70 20 30 40 50) 
+
+We can abstract this general idea and capture it as a common pattern 
+expressed as a higher-order procedure, just as in Section 1.3. The higher- 
+order procedure here is called map. Map takes as arguments a procedure 
+of one argument and a list, and returns a list of the results produced by 
+applying the procedure to each element in the list: 12 
+
+(define (map proc items) 
+(if (null? items) 
+
+12 Scheme standardly provides a map procedure that is more general than the one 
+described here. This more general map takes a procedure of n arguments, together with 
+n lists, and applies the procedure to all the first elements of the lists, all the second 
+elements of the lists, and so on, returning a list of the results. For example: 
+
+(map + (list 1 2 3) (list 40 50 60) (list 700 800 900)) 
+(74 7 852 963) 
+
+(map (lambda (x y) (+ x (* 2 y))) 
+
+(list 1 2 3) 
+
+(list 4 5 6)) 
+(9 12 15) 
+
+
+
+143 
+
+
+
+nil 
+
+(cons (proc (car items)) 
+
+(map proc (cdr items))))) 
+(map abs (list -10 2.5 -11.6 17)) 
+(10 2.5 11.6 17) 
+
+(map (lambda (x) (* x x)) (list 12 3 4)) 
+(1 4 9 16) 
+
+Now we can give a new definition of scale-list in terms of map: 
+
+(define (scale-list items factor) 
+(map (lambda (x) (* x factor)) 
+items)) 
+
+Map is an important construct, not only because it captures a common 
+pattern, but because it establishes a higher level of abstraction in dealing 
+with lists. In the original definition of scale-list, the recursive struc- 
+ture of the program draws attention to the element-by-element process- 
+ing of the list. Defining scale-list in terms of map suppresses that level 
+of detail and emphasizes that scaling transforms a list of elements to a 
+list of results. The difference between the two definitions is not that the 
+computer is performing a different process (it isn't) but that we think 
+about the process differently. In effect, map helps establish an abstrac- 
+tion barrier that isolates the implementation of procedures that trans- 
+form lists from the details of how the elements of the list are extracted 
+and combined. Like the barriers shown in Figure 2.1, this abstraction 
+gives us the flexibility to change the low-level details of how sequences 
+are implemented, while preserving the conceptual framework of oper- 
+ations that transform sequences to sequences. Section 2.2.3 expands on 
+this use of sequences as a framework for organizing programs. 
+
+Exercise 2.2T: The procedure square-list takes a list of 
+numbers as argument and returns a list of the squares of 
+
+
+
+144 
+
+
+
+those numbers. 
+
+(square-list (list 12 3 4)) 
+(1 4 9 16) 
+
+
+
+Here are two different definitions of square-list. Com- 
+plete both of them by filling in the missing expressions: 
+
+(define (square-list items) 
+(if (null? items) 
+nil 
+
+(cons <??> <??)))) 
+(define (square-list items) 
+(map <??) <??))) 
+
+
+
+Exercise 2.22: Louis Reasoner tries to rewrite the first square- 
+list procedure of Exercise 2.21 so that it evolves an itera- 
+tive process: 
+
+(define (square-list items) 
+(define (iter things answer) 
+(if (null? things) 
+answer 
+
+(iter (cdr things) 
+
+(cons (square (car things)) 
+answer)))) 
+
+(iter items nil)) 
+
+Unfortunately, defining square-list this way produces the 
+answer list in the reverse order of the one desired. Why? 
+
+Louis then tries to fix his bug by interchanging the argu- 
+ments to cons: 
+
+(define (square-list items) 
+
+
+
+145 
+
+
+
+(define (iter things answer) 
+(if (null? things) 
+answer 
+
+(iter (cdr things) 
+(cons answer 
+
+(square (car things)))))) 
+
+(iter items nil)) 
+This doesn't work either. Explain. 
+
+Exercise 2.23: The procedure for-each is similar to map. It 
+takes as arguments a procedure and a list of elements. How- 
+ever, rather than forming a list of the results, for-each just 
+applies the procedure to each of the elements in turn, from 
+left to right. The values returned by applying the procedure 
+to the elements are not used at all— for-each is used with 
+procedures that perform an action, such as printing. For ex- 
+ample, 
+
+(for-each (lambda (x) 
+(newline) 
+(display x)) 
+(list 57 321 88)) 
+
+57 
+
+527 
+
+88 
+
+The value returned by the call to for-each (not illustrated 
+above) can be something arbitrary, such as true. Give an 
+implementation of for-each. 
+
+
+
+146 
+
+
+
+(3 
+
+
+
+4) 
+
+
+
+((1 2) 3 4) 
+
+
+
+(1 2) 
+
+
+
+
+1 2 
+
+
+
+Figure 2.5: Structure formed by (cons (list 1 2) (list 
+3 4)). 
+
+2.2.2 Hierarchical Structures 
+
+The representation of sequences in terms of lists generalizes naturally 
+to represent sequences whose elements may themselves be sequences. 
+For example, we can regard the object ((1 2) 3 4) constructed by 
+
+(cons (list 1 2) (list 3 4)) 
+
+as a list of three items, the first of which is itself a list, (1 2 ) . Indeed, this 
+is suggested by the form in which the result is printed by the interpreter. 
+Figure 2.5 shows the representation of this structure in terms of pairs. 
+
+Another way to think of sequences whose elements are sequences 
+is as trees. The elements of the sequence are the branches of the tree, and 
+elements that are themselves sequences are subtrees. Figure 2.6 shows 
+the structure in Figure 2.5 viewed as a tree. 
+
+Recursion is a natural tool for dealing with tree structures, since we 
+can often reduce operations on trees to operations on their branches, 
+which reduce in turn to operations on the branches of the branches, and 
+so on, until we reach the leaves of the tree. As an example, compare the 
+
+
+
+147 
+
+
+
+(d 2) 3 4) 
+
+
+
+
+Figure 2.6: The list structure in Figure 2.5 viewed as a tree. 
+
+
+
+length procedure of Section 2.2.1 with the count-leaves procedure, 
+which returns the total number of leaves of a tree: 
+
+(define x (cons (list 1 2) (list 3 4))) 
+
+(length x) 
+
+3 
+
+(count-leaves x) 
+
+4 
+
+(list x x) 
+
+(((1 2) 3 4) ((1 2) 3 4)) 
+
+(length (list x x)) 
+
+2 
+
+(count-leaves (list x x)) 
+8 
+
+To implement count-leaves, recall the recursive plan for computing 
+length: 
+
+• Length of a list x is 1 plus length of the cdr of x. 
+
+• Length of the empty list is 0. 
+
+Count-leaves is similar. The value for the empty list is the same: 
+
+• Count-leaves of the empty list is 0. 
+
+
+
+148 
+
+
+
+But in the reduction step, where we strip off the car of the list, we must 
+take into account that the car may itself be a tree whose leaves we need 
+to count. Thus, the appropriate reduction step is 
+
+• Count-leaves of a tree x is count-leaves of the car of x plus 
+count-leaves of the cdr of x. 
+
+Finally, by taking cars we reach actual leaves, so we need another base 
+case: 
+
+• Count-leaves of a leaf is 1. 
+
+To aid in writing recursive procedures on trees, Scheme provides the 
+primitive predicate pair?, which tests whether its argument is a pair. 
+Here is the complete procedure: 13 
+
+(define (count-leaves x) 
+(cond ((null? x) 0) 
+
+((not (pair? x)) 1) 
+
+(else (+ (count-leaves (car x)) 
+
+(count-leaves (cdr x)))))) 
+
+Exercise 2.24: Suppose we evaluate the expression (list 
+1 (list 2 (list 3 4))). Give the result printed by the 
+interpreter, the corresponding box-and-pointer structure, 
+and the interpretation of this as a tree (as in Figure 2.6). 
+
+Exercise 2.25: Give combinations of cars and cdrs that 
+will pick 7 from each of the following lists: 
+
+13 The order of the first two clauses in the cond matters, since the empty list satisfies 
+null? and also is not a pair. 
+
+
+
+149 
+
+
+
+(1 3 (5 7) 9) 
+((7)) 
+
+(1 (2 (3 (4 (5 (6 7)))))) 
+
+
+
+Exercise 2.26: Suppose we define x and y to be two lists: 
+
+(define x (list 1 2 3)) 
+(define y (list 4 5 6)) 
+
+What result is printed by the interpreter in response to eval- 
+uating each of the following expressions: 
+
+(append x y) 
+(cons x y) 
+(list x y) 
+
+Exercise 2.27: Modify your reverse procedure of Exercise 
+2.18 to produce a deep-reverse procedure that takes a list 
+as argument and returns as its value the list with its ele- 
+ments reversed and with all sublists deep-reversed as well. 
+For example, 
+
+(define x (list (list 1 2) (list 3 4))) 
+x 
+
+CO 2) (3 4)) 
+(reverse x) 
+((3 4) (I 2)) 
+(deep-reverse x) 
+((4 3) (2 1)) 
+
+Exercise 2.28: Write a procedure fringe that takes as argu- 
+ment a tree (represented as a list) and returns a list whose 
+elements are all the leaves of the tree arranged in left-to- 
+right order. For example, 
+
+
+
+150 
+
+
+
+(define x (list (list 1 2) (list 3 4))) 
+(fringe x) 
+
+(1 2 3 4) 
+
+(fringe (list x x)) 
+(1 2 3 4 1 2 3 4) 
+
+Exercise 2.29: A binary mobile consists of two branches, 
+a left branch and a right branch. Each branch is a rod of 
+a certain length, from which hangs either a weight or an- 
+other binary mobile. We can represent a binary mobile us- 
+ing compound data by constructing it from two branches 
+(for example, using list): 
+
+(define (make-mobile left right) 
+(list left right)) 
+
+A branch is constructed from a length (which must be a 
+number) together with a structure, which may be either a 
+number (representing a simple weight) or another mobile: 
+
+(define (make-branch length structure) 
+(list length structure)) 
+
+a. Write the corresponding selectors left-branch and 
+right-branch, which return the branches of a mobile, 
+and branch-length and branch-structure, which re- 
+turn the components of a branch. 
+
+b. Using your selectors, define a procedure total-weight 
+that returns the total weight of a mobile. 
+
+c. A mobile is said to be balanced if the torque applied by 
+its top-left branch is equal to that applied by its top- 
+
+
+
+151 
+
+
+
+right branch (that is, if the length of the left rod mul- 
+tiplied by the weight hanging from that rod is equal 
+to the corresponding product for the right side) and if 
+each of the submobiles hanging off its branches is bal- 
+anced. Design a predicate that tests whether a binary 
+mobile is balanced. 
+
+d. Suppose we change the representation of mobiles so 
+that the constructors are 
+
+(define (make-mobile left right) (cons left right)) 
+(define (make-branch length structure) 
+(cons length structure)) 
+
+How much do you need to change your programs to 
+convert to the new representation? 
+
+
+
+Mapping over trees 
+
+Just as map is a powerful abstraction for dealing with sequences, map 
+together with recursion is a powerful abstraction for dealing with trees. 
+For instance, the scale-tree procedure, analogous to scale-list of 
+Section 2.2.1, takes as arguments a numeric factor and a tree whose 
+leaves are numbers. It returns a tree of the same shape, where each 
+number is multiplied by the factor. The recursive plan for scale-tree 
+is similar to the one for count-leaves: 
+
+(define (scale-tree tree factor) 
+(cond ((null? tree) nil) 
+
+((not (pair? tree)) (* tree factor)) 
+(else (cons (scale-tree (car tree) factor) 
+
+(scale-tree (cdr tree) factor))))) 
+(scale-tree (list 1 (list 2 (list 3 4) 5) (list 6 7)) 10) 
+(10 (20 (30 40) 50) (60 70)) 
+
+
+
+152 
+
+
+
+Another way to implement scale-tree is to regard the tree as a se- 
+quence of sub-trees and use map. We map over the sequence, scaling 
+each sub-tree in turn, and return the list of results. In the base case, 
+where the tree is a leaf, we simply multiply by the factor: 
+
+(define (scale-tree tree factor) 
+(map (lambda (sub-tree) 
+
+(if (pair? sub-tree) 
+
+(scale-tree sub-tree factor) 
+(* sub-tree factor))) 
+
+tree)) 
+
+Many tree operations can be implemented by similar combinations of 
+sequence operations and recursion. 
+
+Exercise 2.30: Define a procedure square-tree analogous 
+to the square-list procedure of Exercise 2.21. That is, square- 
+tree should behave as follows: 
+
+(square-tree 
+(list 1 
+
+(list 2 (list 3 4) 5) 
+
+(list 6 7))) 
+(1 (4 (9 16) 25) (36 49)) 
+
+Define square-tree both directly (i.e., without using any 
+higher-order procedures) and also by using map and recur- 
+sion. 
+
+Exercise 2.3 T: Abstract your answer to Exercise 2.30 to 
+produce a procedure tree-map with the property that square- 
+tree could be defined as 
+
+(define (square-tree tree) (tree-map square tree)) 
+
+
+
+153 
+
+
+
+Exercise 2.32: We can represent a set as a list of distinct 
+elements, and we can represent the set of all subsets of the 
+set as a list of lists. For example, if the set is (1 2 3), then 
+the set of all subsets is (() (3) (2) (2 3) (1) (1 3) 
+(1 2) (1 2 3 )). Complete the following definition of a 
+procedure that generates the set of subsets of a set and give 
+a clear explanation of why it works: 
+
+(define (subsets s) 
+(if (null? s) 
+(list nil) 
+
+(let ((rest (subsets (cdr s)))) 
+(append rest (map (??) rest))))) 
+
+2.2.3 Sequences as Conventional Interfaces 
+
+In working with compound data, we've stressed how data abstraction 
+permits us to design programs without becoming enmeshed in the de- 
+tails of data representations, and how abstraction preserves for us the 
+flexibility to experiment with alternative representations. In this sec- 
+tion, we introduce another powerful design principle for working with 
+data structures— the use of conventional interfaces. 
+
+In Section 1.3 we saw how program abstractions, implemented as 
+higher-order procedures, can capture common patterns in programs 
+that deal with numerical data. Our ability to formulate analogous oper- 
+ations for working with compound data depends crucially on the style 
+in which we manipulate our data structures. Consider, for example, the 
+following procedure, analogous to the count-leaves procedure of Sec- 
+tion 2.2.2, which takes a tree as argument and computes the sum of the 
+squares of the leaves that are odd: 
+
+
+
+154 
+
+
+
+(define (sum-odd-squares tree) 
+(cond ((null? tree) 0) 
+
+((not (pair? tree)) 
+
+(if (odd? tree) (square tree) 0)) 
+(else (+ (sum-odd-squares (car tree)) 
+
+(sum-odd-squares (cdr tree)))))) 
+
+On the surface, this procedure is very different from the following one, 
+which constructs a list of all the even Fibonacci numbers Fib(fc), where 
+k is less than or equal to a given integer n: 
+
+(define (even-fibs n) 
+(define (next k) 
+(if (> k n) 
+nil 
+
+(let ((f (fib k))) 
+(if (even? f) 
+
+(cons f (next (+ k 1))) 
+(next (+ k 1)))))) 
+
+(next 0)) 
+
+Despite the fact that these two procedures are structurally very differ- 
+ent, a more abstract description of the two computations reveals a great 
+deal of similarity. The first program 
+
+• enumerates the leaves of a tree; 
+
+• filters them, selecting the odd ones; 
+
+• squares each of the selected ones; and 
+
+• accumulates the results using +, starting with 0. 
+
+The second program 
+
+
+
+155 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+enumerate: 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+tree leaves 
+
+
+
+
+V 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+r 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+enumerate: 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+integers 
+
+
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+
+
+• 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+filter: 
+
+
+
+
+odd? 
+
+
+
+
+V 
+
+
+J 
+
+
+
+
+
+•\ 
+
+
+map: 
+
+
+
+
+square 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+) 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+map: 
+
+
+
+
+fib 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+filter: 
+
+
+
+
+even? 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+J 
+
+
+
+f 
+
+
+
+
+■\ 
+
+
+
+
+accumulate: 
+
+
+
+
+
+
++ , 0 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+) 
+
+
+
+
+r 
+
+
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+
+
+accumulate: 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+cons, () 
+
+
+
+
+V 
+
+
+
+
+) 
+
+
+
+Figure 2.7: The signal-flow plans for the procedures sum- 
+odd-squares (top) and even-fibs (bottom) reveal the com- 
+monality between the two programs. 
+
+
+
+• enumerates the integers from 0 to n; 
+
+• computes the Fibonacci number for each integer; 
+
+• filters them, selecting the even ones; and 
+
+• accumulates the results using cons, starting with the empty list. 
+
+A signal-processing engineer would find it natural to conceptualize these 
+processes in terms of signals flowing through a cascade of stages, each 
+of which implements part of the program plan, as shown in Figure 2.7. 
+In sum-odd-squares, we begin with an enumerator, which generates a 
+"signal" consisting of the leaves of a given tree. This signal is passed 
+through a filter, which eliminates all but the odd elements. The result- 
+ing signal is in turn passed through a map, which is a "transducer" that 
+applies the square procedure to each element. The output of the map 
+is then fed to an accumulator, which combines the elements using +, 
+starting from an initial 0. The plan for even-fibs is analogous. 
+
+Unfortunately, the two procedure definitions above fail to exhibit 
+this signal-flow structure. For instance, if we examine the sum-odd- 
+
+
+
+156 
+
+
+
+squares procedure, we find that the enumeration is implemented partly 
+by the null? and pai r? tests and partly by the tree-recursive structure 
+of the procedure. Similarly, the accumulation is found partly in the tests 
+and partly in the addition used in the recursion. In general, there are no 
+distinct parts of either procedure that correspond to the elements in the 
+signal-flow description. Our two procedures decompose the computa- 
+tions in a different way, spreading the enumeration over the program 
+and mingling it with the map, the filter, and the accumulation. If we 
+could organize our programs to make the signal-flow structure manifest 
+in the procedures we write, this would increase the conceptual clarity 
+of the resulting code. 
+
+Sequence Operations 
+
+The key to organizing programs so as to more clearly reflect the signal- 
+flow structure is to concentrate on the "signals" that flow from one stage 
+in the process to the next. If we represent these signals as lists, then we 
+can use list operations to implement the processing at each of the stages. 
+For instance, we can implement the mapping stages of the signal-flow 
+diagrams using the map procedure from Section 2.2.1: 
+
+(map square (list 12 3 4 5)) 
+(1 4 9 16 25) 
+
+Filtering a sequence to select only those elements that satisfy a given 
+predicate is accomplished by 
+
+(define (filter predicate sequence) 
+(cond ((null? sequence) nil) 
+
+((predicate (car sequence)) 
+(cons (car sequence) 
+
+(filter predicate (cdr sequence)))) 
+(else (filter predicate (cdr sequence))))) 
+
+
+
+157 
+
+
+
+For example, 
+
+(filter odd? (list 12 3 4 5)) 
+
+a 3 5) 
+
+Accumulations can be implemented by 
+
+(define (accumulate op initial sequence) 
+(if (null? sequence) 
+initial 
+
+(op (car sequence) 
+
+(accumulate op initial (cdr sequence))))) 
+(accumulate + 0 (list 1 2 3 4 5)) 
+75 
+
+(accumulate * 1 (list 1 2 3 4 5)) 
+720 
+
+(accumulate cons nil (list 12 3 4 5)) 
+(7 2 3 4 5; 
+
+All that remains to implement signal-flow diagrams is to enumerate the 
+sequence of elements to be processed. For even-fibs, we need to gen- 
+erate the sequence of integers in a given range, which we can do as 
+follows: 
+
+(define (enumerate-interval low high) 
+(if (> low high) 
+nil 
+
+(cons low (enumerate-interval (+ low 1) high)))) 
+(enumerate-interval 2 7) 
+
+(2 3 4 5 6 7) 
+
+To enumerate the leaves of a tree, we can use 14 
+
+14 This is, in fact, precisely the fringe procedure from Exercise 2.28. Here we've re- 
+named it to emphasize that it is part of a family of general sequence-manipulation 
+procedures. 
+
+
+
+158 
+
+
+
+(define (enumerate-tree tree) 
+(cond ((null? tree) nil) 
+
+((not (pair? tree)) (list tree)) 
+
+(else (append (enumerate-tree (car tree)) 
+
+(enumerate-tree (cdr tree)))))) 
+(enumerate-tree (list 1 (list 2 (list 3 4)) 5)) 
+(7 2 3 4 5; 
+
+Now we can reformulate sum-odd-squares and even-fibs as in the 
+signal-flow diagrams. For sum-odd-squares, we enumerate the sequence 
+of leaves of the tree, filter this to keep only the odd numbers in the se- 
+quence, square each element, and sum the results: 
+
+(define (sum-odd-squares tree) 
+(accumulate 
+
++ 0 (map square (filter odd? (enumerate-tree tree))))) 
+
+For even-fibs, we enumerate the integers from 0 to n, generate the Fi- 
+bonacci number for each of these integers, filter the resulting sequence 
+to keep only the even elements, and accumulate the results into a list: 
+
+(define (even-fibs n) 
+(accumulate 
+cons 
+nil 
+
+(filter even? (map fib (enumerate-interval 0 n))))) 
+
+The value of expressing programs as sequence operations is that this 
+helps us make program designs that are modular, that is, designs that 
+are constructed by combining relatively independent pieces. We can en- 
+courage modular design by providing a library of standard components 
+together with a conventional interface for connecting the components 
+in flexible ways. 
+
+
+
+159 
+
+
+
+Modular construction is a powerful strategy for controlling com- 
+plexity in engineering design. In real signal-processing applications, for 
+example, designers regularly build systems by cascading elements se- 
+lected from standardized families of filters and transducers. Similarly, 
+sequence operations provide a library of standard program elements 
+that we can mix and match. For instance, we can reuse pieces from the 
+sum-odd-squares and even-fibs procedures in a program that con- 
+structs a list of the squares of the first n + 1 Fibonacci numbers: 
+
+(define (list-fib-squares n) 
+(accumulate 
+cons 
+nil 
+
+(map square (map fib (enumerate-interval 0 n))))) 
+(list-fib-squares 10) 
+
+(0 1 1 4 9 25 64 169 441 1156 3025) 
+
+We can rearrange the pieces and use them in computing the product of 
+the squares of the odd integers in a sequence: 
+
+(define (product-of-squares-of-odd-elements sequence) 
+
+(accumulate * 1 (map square (filter odd? sequence)))) 
+(product-of-squares-of-odd-elements (list 12 3 4 5)) 
+225 
+
+We can also formulate conventional data-processing applications in terms 
+of sequence operations. Suppose we have a sequence of personnel records 
+and we want to find the salary of the highest-paid programmer. Assume 
+that we have a selector salary that returns the salary of a record, and a 
+predicate programmer? that tests if a record is for a programmer. Then 
+we can write 
+
+(define (salary-of-highest-paid-programmer records) 
+
+(accumulate max 0 (map salary (filter programmer? records)))) 
+
+
+
+160 
+
+
+
+These examples give just a hint of the vast range of operations that can 
+be expressed as sequence operations. 15 
+
+Sequences, implemented here as lists, serve as a conventional in- 
+terface that permits us to combine processing modules. Additionally, 
+when we uniformly represent structures as sequences, we have local- 
+ized the data- structure dependencies in our programs to a small number 
+of sequence operations. By changing these, we can experiment with al- 
+ternative representations of sequences, while leaving the overall design 
+of our programs intact. We will exploit this capability in Section 3.5, 
+when we generalize the sequence-processing paradigm to admit infi- 
+nite sequences. 
+
+Exercise 2.33: Fill in the missing expressions to complete 
+the following definitions of some basic list-manipulation 
+operations as accumulations: 
+
+(define (map p sequence) 
+
+(accumulate (lambda (x y) (??)) nil sequence)) 
+(define (append seql seq2) 
+
+(accumulate cons (??) (??))) 
+(define (length sequence) 
+
+(accumulate (??) 0 sequence)) 
+
+
+
+Richard Waters (1979) developed a program that automatically analyzes traditional 
+Fortran programs, viewing them in terms of maps, filters, and accumulations. He found 
+that fully 90 percent of the code in the Fortran Scientific Subroutine Package fits neatly 
+into this paradigm. One of the reasons for the success of Lisp as a programming lan- 
+guage is that lists provide a standard medium for expressing ordered collections so that 
+they can be manipulated using higher-order operations. The programming language 
+APL owes much of its power and appeal to a similar choice. In APL all data are repre- 
+sented as arrays, and there is a universal and convenient set of generic operators for all 
+sorts of array operations. 
+
+
+
+161 
+
+
+
+Exercise 2.34: Evaluating a polynomial in x at a given value 
+of x can be formulated as an accumulation. We evaluate the 
+polynomial 
+
+a n x n + a n _\X n ~ x + • • • + a.\X + a 0 
+
+using a well-known algorithm called Horner's rule, which 
+structures the computation as 
+
+(. . . (a n x + a n -i)x + • • • + cii)x + a 0 . 
+
+In other words, we start with a n , multiply by x, add a„-i, 
+multiply by x, and so on, until we reach a 0 . 16 
+
+Fill in the following template to produce a procedure that 
+evaluates a polynomial using Horner's rule. Assume that 
+the coefficients of the polynomial are arranged in a sequence, 
+from ao through a n . 
+
+(define (horner-eval x coefficient-sequence) 
+
+(accumulate (lambda (this-coeff higher-terms) (??)) 
+0 
+
+coefficient-sequence)) 
+
+16 According to Knuth 1981, this rule was formulated by W. G. Horner early in the 
+nineteenth century, but the method was actually used by Newton over a hundred years 
+earlier. Horner's rule evaluates the polynomial using fewer additions and multipli- 
+cations than does the straightforward method of first computing a n x n , then adding 
+a n -\x n ~ l , and so on. In fact, it is possible to prove that any algorithm for evaluating 
+arbitrary polynomials must use at least as many additions and multiplications as does 
+Horner's rule, and thus Horner's rule is an optimal algorithm for polynomial evaluation. 
+This was proved (for the number of additions) by A. M. Ostrowski in a 1954 paper that 
+essentially founded the modern study of optimal algorithms. The analogous statement 
+for multiplications was proved by V. Y. Pan in 1966. The book by Borodin and Munro 
+(1975) provides an overview of these and other results about optimal algorithms. 
+
+
+
+162 
+
+
+
+For example, to compute l+3x + 5x 3 +x 5 atx = 2 you would 
+evaluate 
+
+(horner-eval 2 (list 1 3 0 5 0 1)) 
+
+Exercise 2.35: Redefine count-leaves from Section 2.2.2 
+as an accumulation: 
+
+(define (count-leaves t) 
+
+(accumulate <??> (??) (map (??) <??)))) 
+
+Exercise 2.36: The procedure accumulate-n is similar to 
+accumu-late except that it takes as its third argument a 
+sequence of sequences, which are all assumed to have the 
+same number of elements. It applies the designated accu- 
+mulation procedure to combine all the first elements of the 
+sequences, all the second elements of the sequences, and so 
+on, and returns a sequence of the results. For instance, if s 
+is a sequence containing four sequences, ((1 2 3) (4 5 6) 
+(7 8 9) (10 1 1 12)), then the value of (accumulate-n + 
+0 s) should be the sequence (22 26 30). Fill in the missing 
+expressions in the following definition of accumulate-n: 
+
+(define (accumulate-n op init seqs) 
+(if (null? (car seqs)) 
+nil 
+
+(cons (accumulate op init (??)) 
+
+(accumulate-n op init (??))))) 
+
+Exercise 2.37: Suppose we represent vectors v = (vt) as se- 
+quences of numbers, and matrices m = (my) as sequences 
+
+
+
+163 
+
+
+
+of vectors (the rows of the matrix). For example, the matrix 
+
+'1 2 3 4' 
+
+4 5 6 6 
+k 6 7 8 9 , 
+
+is represented as the sequence ((1 2 3 4) (4 5 6 6) 
+(6 7 8 9) ) . With this representation, we can use sequence 
+operations to concisely express the basic matrix and vector 
+operations. These operations (which are described in any 
+book on matrix algebra) are the following: 
+
+(dot-product v w) returns the sum Z,f,-w,-, 
+(matrix-*-vector m v) returns the vector t, 
+
+where t t = HjmijVj, 
+(matrix-*-matrix m n) returns the matrix p, 
+
+where p/j - Y, k m ik n kj , 
+(transpose m) returns the matrix n, 
+where n t j = rriji. 
+
+We can define the dot product as 17 
+
+(define (dot-product v w) 
+
+(accumulate + 0 (map * v w))) 
+
+Fill in the missing expressions in the following procedures 
+for computing the other matrix operations. (The procedure 
+accumulate-n is defined in Exercise 2.36.) 
+
+(define (matrix-*-vector m v) 
+(map <??) m)) 
+
+This definition uses the extended version of map described in Footnote 12. 
+
+
+
+164 
+
+
+
+(define (transpose mat) 
+
+(accumulate-n (??) (??) mat)) 
+(define (matrix-*-matrix m n) 
+
+(let ((cols (transpose n))) 
+(map <??) m))) 
+
+Exercise 2.38: The accumulate procedure is also known as 
+fold-right, because it combines the first element of the se- 
+quence with the result of combining all the elements to the 
+right. There is also a fold-left, which is similar to fold- 
+right, except that it combines elements working in the op- 
+posite direction: 
+
+(define (fold-left op initial sequence) 
+(define (iter result rest) 
+(if (null? rest) 
+result 
+
+(iter (op result (car rest)) 
+(cdr rest)))) 
+(iter initial sequence)) 
+
+What are the values of 
+
+(fold-right / 1 (list 1 2 3)) 
+(fold-left / 1 (list 1 2 3)) 
+(fold-right list nil (list 1 2 3)) 
+(fold-left list nil (list 1 2 3)) 
+
+Give a property that op should satisfy to guarantee that 
+fold-right and fold-left will produce the same values 
+for any sequence. 
+
+
+
+165 
+
+
+
+Exercise 2.39: Complete the following definitions of reverse 
+(Exercise 2.18) in terms of fold-right and fold-left from 
+Exercise 2.38: 
+
+(define (reverse sequence) 
+
+(fold-right (lambda (x y) (??)) nil sequence)) 
+(define (reverse sequence) 
+
+(fold-left (lambda (x y) (??)) nil sequence)) 
+
+Nested Mappings 
+
+We can extend the sequence paradigm to include many computations 
+that are commonly expressed using nested loops. 18 Consider this prob- 
+lem: Given a positive integer n, find all ordered pairs of distinct positive 
+integers i and j, where 1 < j < i < n, such that i + j is prime. For 
+example, if n is 6, then the pairs are the following: 
+
+
+
+i 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+j 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+i + j 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+7 
+
+
+7 
+
+
+7 
+
+
+11 
+
+
+
+A natural way to organize this computation is to generate the sequence 
+of all ordered pairs of positive integers less than or equal to n, filter to 
+select those pairs whose sum is prime, and then, for each pair (i, j) that 
+passes through the filter, produce the triple i + j). 
+
+Here is a way to generate the sequence of pairs: For each integer 
+i < n, enumerate the integers j < i, and for each such i and j gener- 
+ate the pair In terms of sequence operations, we map along the 
+
+18 This approach to nested mappings was shown to us by David Turner, whose lan- 
+guages KRC and Miranda provide elegant formalisms for dealing with these constructs. 
+The examples in this section (see also Exercise 2.42) are adapted from Turner 1981. In 
+Section 3.5.3, we'll see how this approach generalizes to infinite sequences. 
+
+
+
+166 
+
+
+
+sequence (enumerate-interval 1 n). For each i in this sequence, we 
+map along the sequence (enumerate-interval 1 (- i 1)).Foreach 
+j in this latter sequence, we generate the pair (list i j). This gives 
+us a sequence of pairs for each i. Combining all the sequences for all 
+the i (by accumulating with append) produces the required sequence of 
+
+19 
+
+pairs: 
+
+(accumulate 
+
+append nil (map (lambda (i) 
+
+(map (lambda (j) (list i j)) 
+
+(enumerate-interval 1 (- i 1)))) 
+(enumerate-interval 1 n))) 
+
+The combination of mapping and accumulating with append is so com- 
+mon in this sort of program that we will isolate it as a separate proce- 
+dure: 
+
+(define (flatmap proc seq) 
+
+(accumulate append nil (map proc seq))) 
+
+Now filter this sequence of pairs to find those whose sum is prime. The 
+filter predicate is called for each element of the sequence; its argument is 
+a pair and it must extract the integers from the pair. Thus, the predicate 
+to apply to each element in the sequence is 
+
+(define (prime-sum? pair) 
+
+(prime? (+ (car pair) (cadr pair)))) 
+
+Finally, generate the sequence of results by mapping over the filtered 
+pairs using the following procedure, which constructs a triple consisting 
+of the two elements of the pair along with their sum: 
+
+19 We're representing a pair here as a list of two elements rather than as a Lisp pair. 
+Thus, the "pair" is represented as (list i j), not (cons i j). 
+
+
+
+167 
+
+
+
+(define (make-pair-sum pair) 
+
+(list (car pair) (cadr pair) (+ (car pair) (cadr pair)))) 
+
+Combining all these steps yields the complete procedure: 
+
+(define (prime-sum-pairs n) 
+(map make-pair-sum 
+
+(filter prime-sum? (flatmap 
+
+(lambda (i) 
+
+(map (lambda (j) (list i j)) 
+
+(enumerate-interval 1 (- i 1)))) 
+(enumerate-interval 1 n))))) 
+
+Nested mappings are also useful for sequences other than those that 
+enumerate intervals. Suppose we wish to generate all the permutations 
+of a set S; that is, all the ways of ordering the items in the set. For in- 
+stance, the permutations of {1, 2, 3} are {1, 2, 3}, {1,3, 2}, {2, 1,3}, {2, 3, 1}, 
+{3, 1,2}, and {3, 2, 1}. Here is a plan for generating the permutations of S: 
+For each item x in S, recursively generate the sequence of permutations 
+of S - x, 20 and adjoin x to the front of each one. This yields, for each x 
+in S, the sequence of permutations of S that begin with x. Combining 
+these sequences for all x gives all the permutations of S: 21 
+
+(define (permutations s) 
+
+(if (null? s) ; empty set? 
+
+(list nil) ; sequence containing empty set 
+
+(flatmap (lambda (x) 
+
+(map (lambda (p) (cons x p)) 
+
+(permutations (remove x s)))) 
+
+s))) 
+
+20 1he set S — x is the set of all elements of S, excluding x. 
+
+21 Semicolons in Scheme code are used to introduce comments. Everything from the 
+semicolon to the end of the line is ignored by the interpreter. In this book we don't use 
+many comments; we try to make our programs self-documenting by using descriptive 
+names. 
+
+
+
+168 
+
+
+
+Notice how this strategy reduces the problem of generating permuta- 
+tions of S to the problem of generating the permutations of sets with 
+fewer elements than S. In the terminal case, we work our way down to 
+the empty list, which represents a set of no elements. For this, we gen- 
+erate (list nil), which is a sequence with one item, namely the set 
+with no elements. The remove procedure used in permutations returns 
+all the items in a given sequence except for a given item. This can be 
+expressed as a simple filter: 
+
+(define (remove item sequence) 
+
+(filter (lambda (x) (not (= x item))) 
+sequence)) 
+
+Exercise 2.40: Define a procedure unique-pairs that, given 
+an integer n, generates the sequence of pairs (i, j) with 1 < 
+j < i < n. Use unique-pairs to simplify the definition of 
+prime-sum-pairs given above. 
+
+Exercise 2.4T: Write a procedure to find all ordered triples 
+of distinct positive integers i, j, and k less than or equal to 
+a given integer n that sum to a given integer s. 
+
+Exercise 2.42: The "eight-queens puzzle" asks how to place 
+eight queens on a chessboard so that no queen is in check 
+from any other (i.e., no two queens are in the same row, col- 
+umn, or diagonal). One possible solution is shown in Figure 
+2.8. One way to solve the puzzle is to work across the board, 
+placing a queen in each column. Once we have placed k — 1 
+queens, we must place the k th queen in a position where it 
+does not check any of the queens already on the board. We 
+can formulate this approach recursively: Assume that we 
+
+
+
+169 
+
+
+
+
+Figure 2.8: A solution to the eight-queens puzzle. 
+
+have already generated the sequence of all possible ways 
+to place k — 1 queens in the first k — 1 columns of the board. 
+For each of these ways, generate an extended set of posi- 
+tions by placing a queen in each row of the fc th column. 
+Now filter these, keeping only the positions for which the 
+queen in the k th column is safe with respect to the other 
+queens. This produces the sequence of all ways to place k 
+queens in the first k columns. By continuing this process, 
+we will produce not only one solution, but all solutions to 
+the puzzle. 
+
+We implement this solution as a procedure queens, which 
+returns a sequence of all solutions to the problem of plac- 
+ing n queens on an n X n chessboard. Queens has an inter- 
+nal procedure queen-cols that returns the sequence of all 
+ways to place queens in the first k columns of the board. 
+
+
+
+170 
+
+
+
+(define (queens board-size) 
+(define (queen-cols k) 
+(if (= k 0) 
+
+(list empty-board) 
+(filter 
+
+(lambda (positions) (safe? k positions)) 
+(f latmap 
+(lambda (rest-of-queens) 
+(map (lambda (new-row) 
+(adjoin-position 
+new-row k rest-of-queens)) 
+(enumerate-interval 1 board-size))) 
+(queen-cols (- k 1)))))) 
+(queen-cols board-size)) 
+
+In this procedure rest-of-queens is a way to place k — 1 
+queens in the first k— 1 columns, and new- row is a proposed 
+row in which to place the queen for the k th column. Com- 
+plete the program by implementing the representation for 
+sets of board positions, including the procedure adjoin- 
+position, which adjoins a new row-column position to a 
+set of positions, and empty-board, which represents an empty 
+set of positions. You must also write the procedure safe?, 
+which determines for a set of positions, whether the queen 
+in the k th column is safe with respect to the others. (Note 
+that we need only check whether the new queen is safe— 
+the other queens are already guaranteed safe with respect 
+to each other.) 
+
+Exercise 2.43: Louis Reasoner is having a terrible time do- 
+ing Exercise 2.42. His queens procedure seems to work, but 
+it runs extremely slowly. (Louis never does manage to wait 
+
+
+
+171 
+
+
+
+long enough for it to solve even the 6x6 case.) When Louis 
+asks Eva Lu Ator for help, she points out that he has inter- 
+changed the order of the nested mappings in the f latmap, 
+writing it as 
+
+(f latmap 
+(lambda (new-row) 
+
+(map (lambda (rest-of-queens) 
+
+(adjoin-position new-row k rest-of-queens)) 
+(queen-cols (- k 1)))) 
+(enumerate-interval 1 board-size)) 
+
+Explain why this interchange makes the program run slowly. 
+Estimate how long it will take Louis's program to solve the 
+eight-queens puzzle, assuming that the program in Exercise 
+2.42 solves the puzzle in time T. 
+
+2.2.4 Example: A Picture Language 
+
+This section presents a simple language for drawing pictures that il- 
+lustrates the power of data abstraction and closure, and also exploits 
+higher-order procedures in an essential way. The language is designed 
+to make it easy to experiment with patterns such as the ones in Fig- 
+ure 2.9, which are composed of repeated elements that are shifted and 
+scaled. 22 In this language, the data objects being combined are repre- 
+sented as procedures rather than as list structure. Just as cons, which 
+satisfies the closure property, allowed us to easily build arbitrarily com- 
+plicated list structure, the operations in this language, which also sat- 
+
+The picture language is based on the language Peter Henderson created to construct 
+images like M.C. Escher's "Square Limit" woodcut (see Henderson 1982). The woodcut 
+incorporates a repeated scaled pattern, similar to the arrangements drawn using the 
+square-limit procedure in this section. 
+
+
+
+172 
+
+
+
+
+
+5 5 a 
+
+SdJa ,s 
+
+ft* #5 
+
+mm 
+mm 
+
+m ~ 
+
+
+
+«4<<4 4, « < *>>>>>>>>>;>> 
+
+
+
+
+
+^ ^ Iff ^ 
+
+
+
+< < y <<< ^ < < * * < * r_ y v * s 
+
+
+
+>: 
+>:! 
+
+'pi 
+
+
+
+Figure 2.9: Designs generated with the picture language. 
+
+
+
+isfy the closure property, allow us to easily build arbitrarily complicated 
+patterns. 
+
+The picture language 
+
+When we began our study of programming in Section 1.1, we empha- 
+sized the importance of describing a language by focusing on the lan- 
+guage's primitives, its means of combination, and its means of abstrac- 
+tion. We'll follow that framework here. 
+
+Part of the elegance of this picture language is that there is only one 
+kind of element, called a painter. A painter draws an image that is shifted 
+and scaled to fit within a designated parallelogram-shaped frame. For 
+example, there's a primitive painter we'll call wave that makes a crude 
+line drawing, as shown in Figure 2.10. The actual shape of the drawing 
+depends on the frame— all four images in figure 2.10 are produced by the 
+
+
+
+173 
+
+
+
+
+Figure 2. TO: Images produced by the wave painter, with 
+respect to four different frames. The frames, shown with 
+dotted lines, are not part of the images. 
+
+same wave painter, but with respect to four different frames. Painters 
+can be more elaborate than this: The primitive painter called rogers 
+paints a picture of mit's founder, William Barton Rogers, as shown in 
+Figure 2. 11. 23 The four images in figure 2.11 are drawn with respect to 
+
+23 William Barton Rogers (1804-1882) was the founder and first president of mit. 
+A geologist and talented teacher, he taught at William and Mary College and at the 
+University of Virginia. In 1859 he moved to Boston, where he had more time for re- 
+search, worked on a plan for establishing a "polytechnic institute," and served as Mas- 
+sachusetts 's first State Inspector of Gas Meters. 
+
+When mit was established in 1861, Rogers was elected its first president. Rogers 
+espoused an ideal of "useful learning" that was different from the university education 
+of the time, with its overemphasis on the classics, which, as he wrote, "stand in the way 
+of the broader, higher and more practical instruction and discipline of the natural and 
+social sciences." This education was likewise to be different from narrow trade-school 
+
+
+
+174 
+
+
+
+the same four frames as the wave images in figure 2.10. 
+
+To combine images, we use various operations that construct new 
+painters from given painters. For example, the beside operation takes 
+two painters and produces a new, compound painter that draws the first 
+
+education. In Rogers's words: 
+
+The world-enforced distinction between the practical and the scientific 
+worker is utterly futile, and the whole experience of modern times has 
+demonstrated its utter worthlessness. 
+
+Rogers served as president of mit until 1870, when he resigned due to ill health. 
+In 1878 the second president of mit, John Runkle, resigned under the pressure of a 
+financial crisis brought on by the Panic of 1873 and strain of fighting off attempts by 
+Harvard to take over mit. Rogers returned to hold the office of president until 1881. 
+
+Rogers collapsed and died while addressing mit's graduating class at the commence- 
+ment exercises of 1882. Runkle quoted Rogers's last words in a memorial address de- 
+livered that same year: 
+
+"As I stand here today and see what the Institute is, ... I call to mind 
+the beginnings of science. I remember one hundred and fifty years ago 
+Stephen Hales published a pamphlet on the subject of illuminating gas, 
+in which he stated that his researches had demonstrated that 128 grains 
+of bituminous coal - " "Bituminous coal," these were his last words on 
+earth. Here he bent forward, as if consulting some notes on the table 
+before him, then slowly regaining an erect position, threw up his hands, 
+and was translated from the scene of his earthly labors and triumphs 
+to "the tomorrow of death," where the mysteries of life are solved, and 
+the disembodied spirit finds unending satisfaction in contemplating the 
+new and still unfathomable mysteries of the infinite future. 
+
+In the words of Francis A. Walker (mit's third president): 
+
+All his life he had borne himself most faithfully and heroically, and he 
+died as so good a knight would surely have wished, in harness, at his 
+post, and in the very part and act of public duty. 
+
+
+
+175 
+
+
+
+Figure 2.T T : Images of William Barton Rogers, founder and 
+first president of mit, painted with respect to the same four 
+frames as in Figure 2.10 (original image from Wikimedia 
+Commons). 
+
+painter's image in the left half of the frame and the second painter's im- 
+age in the right half of the frame. Similarly, below takes two painters and 
+produces a compound painter that draws the first painter's image below 
+the second painter's image. Some operations transform a single painter 
+to produce a new painter. For example, flip- vert takes a painter and 
+produces a painter that draws its image upside-down, and flip-horiz 
+produces a painter that draws the original painter's image left-to-right 
+reversed. 
+
+Figure 2.12 shows the drawing of a painter called wave4 that is built 
+up in two stages starting from wave: 
+
+(define wave2 (beside wave (flip-vert wave))) 
+(define wave4 (below wave2 wave2)) 
+
+
+
+176 
+
+
+
+
+Figure 2.T2: Creating a complex figure, starting from the 
+wave painter of Figure 2.10. 
+
+In building up a complex image in this manner we are exploiting the 
+fact that painters are closed under the language's means of combination. 
+The beside or below of two painters is itself a painter; therefore, we can 
+use it as an element in making more complex painters. As with building 
+up list structure using cons, the closure of our data under the means of 
+combination is crucial to the ability to create complex structures while 
+using only a few operations. 
+
+Once we can combine painters, we would like to be able to abstract 
+typical patterns of combining painters. We will implement the painter 
+operations as Scheme procedures. This means that we don't need a spe- 
+cial abstraction mechanism in the picture language: Since the means of 
+combination are ordinary Scheme procedures, we automatically have 
+the capability to do anything with painter operations that we can do 
+with procedures. For example, we can abstract the pattern in wave4 as 
+
+(define (flipped-pairs painter) 
+
+(let ((painter2 (beside painter (flip-vert painter)))) 
+(below painter2 painter2))) 
+
+and define wave4 as an instance of this pattern: 
+(define wave4 (flipped-pairs wave)) 
+
+
+
+177 
+
+
+
+
+
+right- 
+
+
+-split 
+
+
+
+
+n- 
+
+
+-1 
+
+
+identity 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+right- 
+
+
+-split 
+
+
+
+
+n- 
+
+
+-1 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+right-split n 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+up- 
+split 
+
+
+up- 
+split 
+
+
+corner-split 
+
+
+n-1 
+
+
+n-1 
+
+
+n-1 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ri p" h + — ^ n 1 i t 
+
+
+identity 
+
+
+n-1 
+
+
+right-split 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+n-1 
+
+
+
+corner-split n 
+
+
+
+Figure 2.T3: Recursive plans for right-split and corner-split. 
+
+
+
+We can also define recursive operations. Here's one that makes painters 
+split and branch towards the right as shown in Figure 2.13 and Figure 
+2.14: 
+
+(define (right-split painter n) 
+(if (= n 0) 
+painter 
+
+(let ((smaller (right-split painter (- n 1)))) 
+(beside painter (below smaller smaller))))) 
+
+We can produce balanced patterns by branching upwards as well as 
+towards the right (see exercise Exercise 2.44 and figures Figure 2.13 and 
+Figure 2.14): 
+
+(define (corner-split painter n) 
+(if (= n 0) 
+painter 
+
+
+
+178 
+
+
+
+(let ((up (up-split painter (- n 1))) 
+
+(right (right-split painter (- n 1)))) 
+(let ((top-left (beside up up)) 
+
+(bottom-right (below right right)) 
+(corner (corner-split painter (- n 1)))) 
+(beside (below painter top-left) 
+
+(below bottom-right corner)))))) 
+
+By placing four copies of a corner-split appropriately, we obtain a 
+pattern called square-limit, whose application to wave and rogers is 
+shown in Figure 2.9: 
+
+(define (square-limit painter n) 
+
+(let ((quarter (corner-split painter n))) 
+
+(let ((half (beside (flip-horiz quarter) quarter))) 
+(below (flip-vert half) half)))) 
+
+Exercise 2.44: Define the procedure up-split used by corner- 
+split. It is similar to right-split, except that it switches 
+the roles of below and beside. 
+
+Higher-order operations 
+
+In addition to abstracting patterns of combining painters, we can work 
+at a higher level, abstracting patterns of combining painter operations. 
+That is, we can view the painter operations as elements to manipulate 
+and can write means of combination for these elements— procedures 
+that take painter operations as arguments and create new painter oper- 
+ations. 
+
+For example, flipped-pairs and square-limit each arrange four 
+copies of a painter's image in a square pattern; they differ only in how 
+
+
+
+179 
+
+
+
+
+(corner-split wave 4) (corner-split rogers 4) 
+
+Figure 2.T4: The recursive operations right-split and 
+corner-split applied to the painters wave and rogers. 
+Combining four corner-split figures produces symmet- 
+ric square-limit designs as shown in Figure 2.9. 
+
+
+
+180 
+
+
+
+they orient the copies. One way to abstract this pattern of painter com- 
+bination is with the following procedure, which takes four one-argument 
+painter operations and produces a painter operation that transforms a 
+given painter with those four operations and arranges the results in a 
+square. Tl, tr, bl, and br are the transformations to apply to the top 
+left copy, the top right copy, the bottom left copy, and the bottom right 
+copy, respectively. 
+
+(define (square-of-four tl tr bl br) 
+(lambda (painter) 
+
+(let ((top (beside (tl painter) (tr painter))) 
+
+(bottom (beside (bl painter) (br painter)))) 
+(below bottom top)))) 
+
+Then f lipped-pairs can be defined in terms of square-of-four as 
+follows: 24 
+
+(define (flipped-pairs painter) 
+
+(let ((combine4 (square-of-four identity flip-vert 
+
+identity flip-vert))) 
+
+(combine4 painter))) 
+and square-limit can be expressed as 25 
+
+(define (square-limit painter n) 
+
+(let ((combine4 (square-of-four flip-horiz identity 
+
+rotate180 flip-vert))) 
+
+24 Equivalently, we could write 
+
+(define flipped-pairs 
+
+(square-of-four identity flip-vert identity flip-vert)) 
+
+25 Rotate180 rotates a painter by 180 degrees (see Exercise 2.50). Instead of ro- 
+tate180 we could say (compose flip-vert flip-horiz), using the compose pro- 
+cedure from Exercise 1.42. 
+
+
+
+181 
+
+
+
+(combine4 (corner-split painter n)))) 
+
+Exercise 2.45: Right-split and up-split can be expressed 
+as instances of a general splitting operation. Define a pro- 
+cedure split with the property that evaluating 
+
+(define right-split (split beside below)) 
+(define up-split (split below beside)) 
+
+produces procedures right-split and up-split with the 
+same behaviors as the ones already defined. 
+
+Frames 
+
+Before we can show how to implement painters and their means of com- 
+bination, we must first consider frames. A frame can be described by 
+three vectors— an origin vector and two edge vectors. The origin vector 
+specifies the offset of the frame's origin from some absolute origin in 
+the plane, and the edge vectors specify the offsets of the frame's cor- 
+ners from its origin. If the edges are perpendicular, the frame will be 
+rectangular. Otherwise the frame will be a more general parallelogram. 
+
+Figure 2.15 shows a frame and its associated vectors. In accordance 
+with data abstraction, we need not be specific yet about how frames are 
+represented, other than to say that there is a constructor make-frame, 
+which takes three vectors and produces a frame, and three correspond- 
+ing selectors origin-frame, edgel -frame, and edge2-f rame (see Exer- 
+cise 2.47). 
+
+We will use coordinates in the unit square (0 < x, y < 1) to specify 
+images. With each frame, we associate a frame coordinate map, which 
+will be used to shift and scale images to fit the frame. The map trans- 
+forms the unit square into the frame by mapping the vector v = (x, y) 
+
+
+
+182 
+
+
+
+
+frame 
+
+
+
+origin 
+vector 
+
+
+
+(0, 0) point on 
+display screen 
+
+
+
+Figure 2.T5: A frame is described by three vectors 
+origin and two edges. 
+
+
+
+an 
+
+
+
+to the vector sum 
+
+Origin(Frame) + x ■ Edge 1 (Frame) + y ■ Edge 2 (Frame). 
+
+For example, (0, 0) is mapped to the origin of the frame, (1, 1) to the 
+vertex diagonally opposite the origin, and (0.5, 0.5) to the center of the 
+frame. We can create a frame's coordinate map with the following pro- 
+cedure: 26 
+
+(define (f rame-coord-map frame) 
+(lambda (v) 
+(add-vect 
+(origin-frame frame) 
+
+26 Frame-coord-map uses the vector operations described in Exercise 2.46 below, 
+which we assume have been implemented using some representation for vectors. Be- 
+cause of data abstraction, it doesn't matter what this vector representation is, so long 
+as the vector operations behave correctly. 
+
+
+
+183 
+
+
+
+(add-vect (scale-vect (xcor-vect v) (edgel -frame frame)) 
+
+(scale-vect (ycor-vect v) (edge2-frame frame)))))) 
+
+Observe that applying frame-coord-map to a frame returns a procedure 
+that, given a vector, returns a vector. If the argument vector is in the unit 
+square, the result vector will be in the frame. For example, 
+
+((frame-coord-map a-frame) (make-vect 0 0)) 
+
+returns the same vector as 
+
+(origin-frame a-frame) 
+
+Exercise 2.46: A two-dimensional vector v running from 
+the origin to a point can be represented as a pair consisting 
+of an x-coordinate and a y-coordinate. Implement a data 
+abstraction for vectors by giving a constructor make-vect 
+and corresponding selectors xcor-vect and ycor-vect. In 
+terms of your selectors and constructor, implement proce- 
+dures add-vect, sub-vect, and scale-vect that perform 
+the operations vector addition, vector subtraction, and mul- 
+tiplying a vector by a scalar: 
+
+(xi, yi) + (x 2 , y 2 ) = (xi +x 2 ,yi + y 2 ), 
+(x l ,y 1 ) - (x 2 , y 2 ) = (x x -x 2 ,y 1 - y 2 ), 
+s • (x,y) = (sx,sy). 
+
+Exercise 2.47: Here are two possible constructors for frames: 
+
+(define (make-frame origin edgel edge2) 
+
+(list origin edgel edge2)) 
+
+(define (make-frame origin edgel edge2) 
+
+(cons origin (cons edgel edge2))) 
+
+For each constructor supply the appropriate selectors to 
+produce an implementation for frames. 
+
+
+
+184 
+
+
+
+Painters 
+
+
+
+A painter is represented as a procedure that, given a frame as argument, 
+draws a particular image shifted and scaled to fit the frame. That is to 
+say, if p is a painter and f is a frame, then we produce p's image in f by 
+calling p with f as argument. 
+
+The details of how primitive painters are implemented depend on 
+the particular characteristics of the graphics system and the type of im- 
+age to be drawn. For instance, suppose we have a procedure draw-line 
+that draws a line on the screen between two specified points. Then we 
+can create painters for line drawings, such as the wave painter in Figure 
+2.10, from lists of line segments as follows: 27 
+
+(define (segments->painter segment-list) 
+(lambda (frame) 
+(for-each 
+(lambda (segment) 
+(draw-line 
+((frame-coord-map frame) 
+
+(start-segment segment)) 
+((frame-coord-map frame) 
+(end-segment segment)))) 
+segment-list))) 
+
+The segments are given using coordinates with respect to the unit square. 
+For each segment in the list, the painter transforms the segment end- 
+points with the frame coordinate map and draws a line between the 
+transformed points. 
+
+Representing painters as procedures erects a powerful abstraction 
+barrier in the picture language. We can create and intermix all sorts of 
+
+27 Segments->painter uses the representation for line segments described in Exer- 
+cise 2.48 below. It also uses the for-each procedure described in Exercise 2.23. 
+
+
+
+185 
+
+
+
+primitive painters, based on a variety of graphics capabilities. The de- 
+tails of their implementation do not matter. Any procedure can serve as 
+a painter, provided that it takes a frame as argument and draws some- 
+thing scaled to fit the frame. 28 
+
+Exercise 2.48: A directed line segment in the plane can be 
+represented as a pair of vectors— the vector running from 
+the origin to the start-point of the segment, and the vector 
+running from the origin to the end-point of the segment. 
+Use your vector representation from Exercise 2.46 to de- 
+fine a representation for segments with a constructor make- 
+segment and selectors start-segment and end-segment. 
+
+Exercise 2.49: Use segments->painter to define the fol- 
+lowing primitive painters: 
+
+a. The painter that draws the outline of the designated 
+frame. 
+
+b. The painter that draws an "X" by connecting opposite 
+corners of the frame. 
+
+c. The painter that draws a diamond shape by connect- 
+ing the midpoints of the sides of the frame. 
+
+d. The wave painter. 
+
+28 For example, the rogers painter of Figure 2.11 was constructed from a gray-level 
+image. For each point in a given frame, the rogers painter determines the point in the 
+image that is mapped to it under the frame coordinate map, and shades it accordingly. 
+By allowing different types of painters, we are capitalizing on the abstract data idea 
+discussed in Section 2.1.3, where we argued that a rational-number representation could 
+be anything at all that satisfies an appropriate condition. Here we're using the fact 
+that a painter can be implemented in any way at all, so long as it draws something 
+in the designated frame. Section 2.1.3 also showed how pairs could be implemented as 
+procedures. Painters are our second example of a procedural representation for data. 
+
+
+
+186 
+
+
+
+Transforming and combining painters 
+
+An operation on painters (such as flip-vert or beside) works by cre- 
+ating a painter that invokes the original painters with respect to frames 
+derived from the argument frame. Thus, for example, flip-vert doesn't 
+have to know how a painter works in order to flip it— it just has to know 
+how to turn a frame upside down: The flipped painter just uses the orig- 
+inal painter, but in the inverted frame. 
+
+Painter operations are based on the procedure transform-painter, 
+which takes as arguments a painter and information on how to trans- 
+form a frame and produces a new painter. The transformed painter, 
+when called on a frame, transforms the frame and calls the original 
+painter on the transformed frame. The arguments to transform-painter 
+are points (represented as vectors) that specify the corners of the new 
+frame: When mapped into the frame, the first point specifies the new 
+frame's origin and the other two specify the ends of its edge vectors. 
+Thus, arguments within the unit square specify a frame contained within 
+the original frame. 
+
+(define (transform-painter painter origin cornerl corner2) 
+(lambda (frame) 
+
+(let ((m (frame-coord-map frame))) 
+(let ((new-origin (m origin))) 
+(painter (make-frame 
+new-origin 
+
+(sub-vect (m cornerl) new-origin) 
+(sub-vect (m corner2) new-origin))))))) 
+
+Here's how to flip painter images vertically: 
+
+(define (flip-vert painter) 
+(transform-painter painter 
+
+(make-vect 0.0 1.0) ; new origin 
+
+
+
+187 
+
+
+
+(make-vect 1.0 1.0) ; new end of edge 1 
+(make-vect 0.0 0.0))) ; new end of edge2 
+
+Using transform-painter, we can easily define new transformations. 
+For example, we can define a painter that shrinks its image to the upper- 
+right quarter of the frame it is given: 
+
+(define (shrink-to-upper-right painter) 
+(transform-painter 
+painter (make-vect 0.5 0.5) 
+(make-vect 1.0 0.5) (make-vect 0.5 1.0))) 
+
+Other transformations rotate images counterclockwise by 90 degrees 29 
+
+(define (rotate90 painter) 
+(transform-painter painter 
+
+(make-vect 1.0 0.0) 
+(make-vect 1.0 1.0) 
+(make-vect 0.0 0.0))) 
+
+or squash images towards the center of the frame: 30 
+
+(define (squash-inwards painter) 
+(transform-painter painter 
+
+(make-vect 0.0 0.0) 
+(make-vect 0.65 0.35) 
+(make-vect 0.35 0.65))) 
+
+Frame transformation is also the key to defining means of combining 
+two or more painters. The beside procedure, for example, takes two 
+painters, transforms them to paint in the left and right halves of an 
+argument frame respectively, and produces a new, compound painter. 
+
+29 Rotate90 is a pure rotation only for square frames, because it also stretches and 
+shrinks the image to fit into the rotated frame. 
+
+30 1he diamond-shaped images in Figure 2.10 and Figure 2.11 were created with 
+squash-inwards applied to wave and rogers. 
+
+
+
+188 
+
+
+
+When the compound painter is given a frame, it calls the first trans- 
+formed painter to paint in the left half of the frame and calls the second 
+transformed painter to paint in the right half of the frame: 
+
+(define (beside painterl painter2) 
+
+(let ((split-point (make-vect 0.5 0.0))) 
+(let ((paint-left 
+
+(transform-painter 
+painterl 
+
+(make-vect 0.0 0.0) 
+split-point 
+(make-vect 0.0 1 .0))) 
+(paint-right 
+(transform-painter 
+painter2 
+split-point 
+(make-vect 1.0 0.0) 
+(make-vect 0.5 1 .0)))) 
+(lambda (frame) 
+(paint-left frame) 
+(paint-right frame))))) 
+
+Observe how the painter data abstraction, and in particular the repre- 
+sentation of painters as procedures, makes beside easy to implement. 
+The beside procedure need not know anything about the details of the 
+component painters other than that each painter will draw something 
+in its designated frame. 
+
+Exercise 2.50: Define the transformation f lip-horiz, which 
+flips painters horizontally, and transformations that rotate 
+painters counterclockwise by 180 degrees and 270 degrees. 
+
+Exercise 2.5T : Define the below operation for painters. Below 
+takes two painters as arguments. The resulting painter, given 
+
+
+
+189 
+
+
+
+a frame, draws with the first painter in the bottom of the 
+frame and with the second painter in the top. Define below 
+in two different ways— first by writing a procedure that is 
+analogous to the beside procedure given above, and again 
+in terms of beside and suitable rotation operations (from 
+Exercise 2.50). 
+
+Levels of language for robust design 
+
+The picture language exercises some of the critical ideas we've intro- 
+duced about abstraction with procedures and data. The fundamental 
+data abstractions, painters, are implemented using procedural represen- 
+tations, which enables the language to handle different basic drawing 
+capabilities in a uniform way. The means of combination satisfy the 
+closure property, which permits us to easily build up complex designs. 
+Finally, all the tools for abstracting procedures are available to us for 
+abstracting means of combination for painters. 
+
+We have also obtained a glimpse of another crucial idea about lan- 
+guages and program design. This is the approach of stratified design, 
+the notion that a complex system should be structured as a sequence 
+of levels that are described using a sequence of languages. Each level is 
+constructed by combining parts that are regarded as primitive at that 
+level, and the parts constructed at each level are used as primitives at 
+the next level. The language used at each level of a stratified design has 
+primitives, means of combination, and means of abstraction appropriate 
+to that level of detail. 
+
+Stratified design pervades the engineering of complex systems. For 
+example, in computer engineering, resistors and transistors are com- 
+bined (and described using a language of analog circuits) to produce 
+parts such as and-gates and or-gates, which form the primitives of a 
+
+
+
+190 
+
+
+
+language for digital-circuit design. 31 These parts are combined to build 
+processors, bus structures, and memory systems, which are in turn com- 
+bined to form computers, using languages appropriate to computer ar- 
+chitecture. Computers are combined to form distributed systems, using 
+languages appropriate for describing network interconnections, and so 
+on. 
+
+As a tiny example of stratification, our picture language uses prim- 
+itive elements (primitive painters) that are created using a language 
+that specifies points and lines to provide the lists of line segments for 
+segments->painter, or the shading details for a painter like rogers. 
+The bulk of our description of the picture language focused on com- 
+bining these primitives, using geometric combiners such as beside and 
+below. We also worked at a higher level, regarding beside and below 
+as primitives to be manipulated in a language whose operations, such 
+as square-of-four, capture common patterns of combining geometric 
+combiners. 
+
+Stratified design helps make programs robust, that is, it makes it 
+likely that small changes in a specification will require correspondingly 
+small changes in the program. For instance, suppose we wanted to change 
+the image based on wave shown in Figure 2.9. We could work at the 
+lowest level to change the detailed appearance of the wave element; 
+we could work at the middle level to change the way corner-split 
+replicates the wave; we could work at the highest level to change how 
+square-limit arranges the four copies of the corner. In general, each 
+level of a stratified design provides a different vocabulary for express- 
+ing the characteristics of the system, and a different kind of ability to 
+change it. 
+
+
+
+Section 3.3.4 describes one such language. 
+
+
+
+191 
+
+
+
+Exercise 2.52: Make changes to the square limit of wave 
+shown in Figure 2.9 by working at each of the levels de- 
+scribed above. In particular: 
+
+a. Add some segments to the primitive wave painter of 
+Exercise 2.49 (to add a smile, for example). 
+
+b. Change the pattern constructed by corner-split (for 
+example, by using only one copy of the up-split and 
+right-split images instead of two). 
+
+c. Modify the version of square-limit thatuses square- 
+of-four so as to assemble the corners in a different 
+pattern. (For example, you might make the big Mr. 
+Rogers look outward from each corner of the square.) 
+
+2.3 Symbolic Data 
+
+All the compound data objects we have used so far were constructed ul- 
+timately from numbers. In this section we extend the representational 
+capability of our language by introducing the ability to work with arbi- 
+trary symbols as data. 
+
+2.3.1 Quotation 
+
+If we can form compound data using symbols, we can have lists such as 
+
+(abed) 
+(23 45 17) 
+
+((Norah 12) (Molly 9) (Anna 7) (Lauren 6) (Charlotte 4)) 
+
+Lists containing symbols can look just like the expressions of our lan- 
+guage: 
+
+
+
+192 
+
+
+
+(* (+ 23 45) 
+
+(+ x 9)) 
+(define (fact n) 
+
+(if (= n 1) 1 (* n (fact (- n 1))))) 
+
+In order to manipulate symbols we need a new element in our language: 
+the ability to quote a data object. Suppose we want to construct the list 
+(a b). We can't accomplish this with (list a b), because this expres- 
+sion constructs a list of the values of a and b rather than the symbols 
+themselves. This issue is well known in the context of natural languages, 
+where words and sentences may be regarded either as semantic entities 
+or as character strings (syntactic entities). The common practice in nat- 
+ural languages is to use quotation marks to indicate that a word or a 
+sentence is to be treated literally as a string of characters. For instance, 
+the first letter of "John" is clearly "J." If we tell somebody "say your 
+name aloud," we expect to hear that person's name. However, if we tell 
+somebody "say 'y° ur name' aloud," we expect to hear the words "your 
+name." Note that we are forced to nest quotation marks to describe what 
+somebody else might say. 32 
+
+We can follow this same practice to identify lists and symbols that 
+are to be treated as data objects rather than as expressions to be evalu- 
+
+32 Allowing quotation in a language wreaks havoc with the ability to reason about 
+the language in simple terms, because it destroys the notion that equals can be sub- 
+stituted for equals. For example, three is one plus two, but the word "three" is not the 
+phrase "one plus two." Quotation is powerful because it gives us a way to build expres- 
+sions that manipulate other expressions (as we will see when we write an interpreter in 
+Chapter 4). But allowing statements in a language that talk about other statements in 
+that language makes it very difficult to maintain any coherent principle of what "equals 
+can be substituted for equals" should mean. For example, if we know that the evening 
+star is the morning star, then from the statement "the evening star is Venus" we can 
+deduce "the morning star is Venus." However, given that "John knows that the evening 
+star is Venus" we cannot infer that "John knows that the morning star is Venus." 
+
+
+
+193 
+
+
+
+ated. However, our format for quoting differs from that of natural lan- 
+guages in that we place a quotation mark (traditionally, the single quote 
+symbol ') only at the beginning of the object to be quoted. We can get 
+away with this in Scheme syntax because we rely on blanks and paren- 
+theses to delimit objects. Thus, the meaning of the single quote character 
+is to quote the next object. 33 
+
+Now we can distinguish between symbols and their values: 
+
+(define a 1) 
+(define b 2) 
+
+(list a b) 
+(7 2) 
+
+(list 'a 'b) 
+(a b) 
+
+(list 'a b) 
+(a 2) 
+
+Quotation also allows us to type in compound objects, using the con- 
+ventional printed representation for lists: 34 
+
+33 The single quote is different from the double quote we have been using to enclose 
+character strings to be printed. Whereas the single quote can be used to denote lists or 
+symbols, the double quote is used only with character strings. In this book, the only 
+use for character strings is as items to be printed. 
+
+34 Strictly, our use of the quotation mark violates the general rule that all compound 
+expressions in our language should be delimited by parentheses and look like lists. We 
+can recover this consistency by introducing a special form quote, which serves the 
+same purpose as the quotation mark. Thus, we would type (quote a) instead of 'a, 
+and we would type (quote (a b c)) instead of ' (a b c). This is precisely how 
+the interpreter works. The quotation mark is just a single-character abbreviation for 
+wrapping the next complete expression with quote to form (quote (expression)). 
+This is important because it maintains the principle that any expression seen by the 
+interpreter can be manipulated as a data object. For instance, we could construct the 
+expression (car '(a b c)), whichis the same as (car (quote (a b c))), by evaluating 
+(list 'car (list 'quote '(a b c))). 
+
+
+
+194 
+
+
+
+(car ' (a b c)) 
+a 
+
+(cdr '(a b c)) 
+(b c) 
+
+In keeping with this, we can obtain the empty list by evaluating ' (), 
+and thus dispense with the variable nil. 
+
+One additional primitive used in manipulating symbols is eq?, which 
+takes two symbols as arguments and tests whether they are the same. 35 
+Using eq?, we can implement a useful procedure called memq. This takes 
+two arguments, a symbol and a list. If the symbol is not contained in the 
+list (i.e., is not eq? to any item in the list), then memq returns false. Other- 
+wise, it returns the sublist of the list beginning with the first occurrence 
+of the symbol: 
+
+(define (memq item x) 
+(cond ((null? x) false) 
+
+((eq? item (car x)) x) 
+(else (memq item (cdr x))))) 
+
+For example, the value of 
+
+(memq 'apple '(pear banana prune)) 
+
+is false, whereas the value of 
+
+(memq 'apple ' (x (apple sauce) y apple pear)) 
+is (apple pear). 
+
+Exerci se 2 .53 : What would the interpreter print in response 
+to evaluating each of the following expressions? 
+
+35 We can consider two symbols to be "the same" if they consist of the same characters 
+in the same order. Such a definition skirts a deep issue that we are not yet ready to 
+address: the meaning of "sameness" in a programming language. We will return to this 
+in Chapter 3 (Section 3.1.3). 
+
+
+
+195 
+
+
+
+(list 'a 'b 'c) 
+
+(list (list 'george)) 
+
+(cdr '((x1 x2) (y1 y2))) 
+
+(cadr '((x1 x2) (y1 y2))) 
+
+(pair? (car '(a short list))) 
+
+(memq 'red '((red shoes) (blue socks))) 
+
+(memq 'red '(red shoes blue socks)) 
+
+Exercise 2.54: Two lists are said to be equal? if they con- 
+tain equal elements arranged in the same order. For exam- 
+ple, 
+
+(equal? '(this is a list) '(this is a list)) 
+is true, but 
+
+(equal? '(this is a list) '(this (is a) list)) 
+
+is false. To be more precise, we can define equal? recur- 
+sively in terms of the basic eq? equality of symbols by say- 
+ing that a and b are equal? if they are both symbols and 
+the symbols are eq?, or if they are both lists such that (car 
+a) is equal? to (car b) and (cdr a) is equal? to (cdr b). 
+Using this idea, implement equal? as a procedure. 36 
+
+Exercise 2.55: Eva Lu Ator types to the interpreter the ex- 
+pression 
+
+36 In practice, programmers use equal? to compare lists that contain numbers as 
+well as symbols. Numbers are not considered to be symbols. The question of whether 
+two numerically equal numbers (as tested by =) are also eq? is highly implementation- 
+dependent. A better definition of equal? (such as the one that comes as a primitive in 
+Scheme) would also stipulate that if a and b are both numbers, then a and b are equal? 
+if they are numerically equal. 
+
+
+
+196 
+
+
+
+(car ''abracadabra) 
+
+
+
+To her surprise, the interpreter prints back quote. Explain. 
+
+2.3.2 Example: Symbolic Differentiation 
+
+As an illustration of symbol manipulation and a further illustration of 
+data abstraction, consider the design of a procedure that performs sym- 
+bolic differentiation of algebraic expressions. We would like the proce- 
+dure to take as arguments an algebraic expression and a variable and to 
+return the derivative of the expression with respect to the variable. For 
+example, if the arguments to the procedure are ax 2 + bx + c and x, the 
+procedure should return lax + b. Symbolic differentiation is of special 
+historical significance in Lisp. It was one of the motivating examples 
+behind the development of a computer language for symbol manipula- 
+tion. Furthermore, it marked the beginning of the line of research that 
+led to the development of powerful systems for symbolic mathematical 
+work, which are currently being used by a growing number of applied 
+mathematicians and physicists. 
+
+In developing the symbolic-differentiation program, we will follow 
+the same strategy of data abstraction that we followed in developing 
+the rational-number system of Section 2.1.1. That is, we will first de- 
+fine a differentiation algorithm that operates on abstract objects such as 
+"sums," "products," and "variables" without worrying about how these 
+are to be represented. Only afterward will we address the representation 
+problem. 
+
+The differentiation program with abstract data 
+
+In order to keep things simple, we will consider a very simple symbolic- 
+differentiation program that handles expressions that are built up using 
+
+
+
+197 
+
+
+
+only the operations of addition and multiplication with two arguments. 
+Differentiation of any such expression can be carried out by applying 
+the following reduction rules: 
+
+dc 
+
+— =0, for c a constant or a variable different from x, 
+dx 
+
+
+
+d(u+ v) _ du dv 
+dx dx dx' 
+
+d(uv) dv du 
+dx dx dx 
+Observe that the latter two rules are recursive in nature. That is, to ob- 
+tain the derivative of a sum we first find the derivatives of the terms and 
+add them. Each of the terms may in turn be an expression that needs 
+to be decomposed. Decomposing into smaller and smaller pieces will 
+eventually produce pieces that are either constants or variables, whose 
+derivatives will be either 0 or 1. 
+
+To embody these rules in a procedure we indulge in a little wishful 
+thinking, as we did in designing the rational-number implementation. 
+If we had a means for representing algebraic expressions, we should 
+be able to tell whether an expression is a sum, a product, a constant, 
+or a variable. We should be able to extract the parts of an expression. 
+For a sum, for example we want to be able to extract the addend (first 
+term) and the augend (second term). We should also be able to construct 
+expressions from parts. Let us assume that we already have procedures 
+to implement the following selectors, constructors, and predicates: 
+
+(variable? e) Is e a variable? 
+
+(same-variable? vl v2) Are v1 and v 2 the same variable? 
+
+
+
+198 
+
+
+
+(sum? e) Is e a sum? 
+
+(addend e) Addend of the sum e. 
+
+(augend e) Augend of the sum e. 
+
+(make-sum a1 a2) Construct the sum of a 1 and a 2. 
+
+(product? e) Is e a product? 
+
+(multiplier e) Multiplier of the product e. 
+
+(multiplicand e) Multiplicand of the product e . 
+
+(make-product ml m2) Construct the product of ml and m2. 
+
+Using these, and the primitive predicate number?, which identifies num- 
+bers, we can express the differentiation rules as the following procedure: 
+
+(define (deriv exp var) 
+(cond ((number? exp) 0) 
+
+((variable? exp) (if (same-variable? exp var) 1 0)) 
+((sum? exp) (make-sum (deriv (addend exp) var) 
+
+(deriv (augend exp) var))) 
+
+((product? exp) 
+(make-sum 
+
+(make-product (multiplier exp) 
+
+(deriv (multiplicand exp) var)) 
+(make-product (deriv (multiplier exp) var) 
+(multiplicand exp)))) 
+
+(else 
+
+(error "unknown expression type: DERIV" exp)))) 
+
+This deriv procedure incorporates the complete differentiation algo- 
+rithm. Since it is expressed in terms of abstract data, it will work no 
+matter how we choose to represent algebraic expressions, as long as we 
+design a proper set of selectors and constructors. This is the issue we 
+must address next. 
+
+
+
+199 
+
+
+
+Representing algebraic expressions 
+
+We can imagine many ways to use list structure to represent algebraic 
+expressions. For example, we could use lists of symbols that mirror 
+the usual algebraic notation, representing ax + b as the list (a * x + 
+b). However, one especially straightforward choice is to use the same 
+parenthesized prefix notation that Lisp uses for combinations; that is, 
+to represent ax + b as (+ (* a x) b). Then our data representation for 
+the differentiation problem is as follows: 
+
+• The variables are symbols. They are identified by the primitive 
+predicate symbol?: 
+
+(define (variable? x) (symbol? x)) 
+
+• Two variables are the same if the symbols representing them are 
+eq?: 
+
+(define (same-variable? vl v2) 
+
+(and (variable? vl) (variable? v2) (eq? v1 v2))) 
+
+• Sums and products are constructed as lists: 
+
+(define (make-sum a1 a2) (list '+ a1 a2)) 
+(define (make-product ml m2) (list '* ml m2)) 
+
+• A sum is a list whose first element is the symbol +: 
+(define (sum? x) (and (pair? x) (eq? (car x) '+))) 
+
+• The addend is the second item of the sum list: 
+(define (addend s) (cadr s)) 
+
+
+
+200 
+
+
+
+• The augend is the third item of the sum list: 
+(define (augend s) (caddr s)) 
+
+
+
+• A product is a list whose first element is the symbol *: 
+(define (product? x) (and (pair? x) (eq? (car x) '*))) 
+
+• The multiplier is the second item of the product list: 
+(define (multiplier p) (cadr p)) 
+
+• The multiplicand is the third item of the product list: 
+(define (multiplicand p) (caddr p)) 
+
+Thus, we need only combine these with the algorithm as embodied by 
+der i v in order to have a working symbolic-differentiation program. Let 
+us look at some examples of its behavior: 
+
+(deriv ' (+ x 3) 'x) 
+C+ 7 0) 
+
+(deriv ' (* x y) ' x) 
+(+ (* x 0) (* 7 y)) 
+(deriv ' (* (* x y) (+ x 3)) 'x) 
+(+ ("* (* x y) (+ 7 0)) 
+(* (+ (* x 0) (* 7 y)) 
+C+ x 3))) 
+
+The program produces answers that are correct; however, they are un- 
+simplified. It is true that 
+
+d ( x y) „ 1 
+
+— - — = x • 0 + 1 • y, 
+dx 
+
+
+
+201 
+
+
+
+but we would like the program to know that x ■ 0 = 0, 1 • y = y, and 
+0 + y = y. The answer for the second example should have been simply 
+y. As the third example shows, this becomes a serious issue when the 
+expressions are complex. 
+
+Our difficulty is much like the one we encountered with the rational- 
+number implementation: we haven't reduced answers to simplest form. 
+To accomplish the rational-number reduction, we needed to change only 
+the constructors and the selectors of the implementation. We can adopt 
+a similar strategy here. We won't change deriv at all. Instead, we will 
+change make-sum so that if both summands are numbers, make-sum will 
+add them and return their sum. Also, if one of the summands is 0, then 
+make -sum will return the other summand. 
+
+(define (make-sum a1 a2) 
+(cond ((=number? a1 0) a2) 
+((=number? a2 0) a1) 
+((and (number? a1) (number? a2)) 
+
+(+ a1 a2)) 
+(else (list '+ al a2)))) 
+
+This uses the procedure =number?, which checks whether an expression 
+is equal to a given number: 
+
+(define (=number? exp num) (and (number? exp) (= exp num))) 
+
+Similarly, we will change make-product to build in the rules that 0 times 
+anything is 0 and 1 times anything is the thing itself: 
+
+(define (make-product ml m2) 
+
+(cond ((or (=number? ml 0) (=number? m2 0)) 0) 
+((=number? ml 1) m2) 
+((=number? m2 1) ml ) 
+
+((and (number? ml) (number? m2)) (* ml m2)) 
+(else (list '* ml m2)))) 
+
+
+
+202 
+
+
+
+Here is how this version works on our three examples: 
+
+(deriv ' (+ x 3) 'x) 
+7 
+
+(deriv ' (* x y) 'x) 
+
+y 
+
+(deriv ' (* (* x y) (+ x 3)) 'x) 
+(+ (* x y) (* y (+ x 3))) 
+
+Although this is quite an improvement, the third example shows that 
+there is still a long way to go before we get a program that puts ex- 
+pressions into a form that we might agree is "simplest." The problem 
+of algebraic simplification is complex because, among other reasons, a 
+form that may be simplest for one purpose may not be for another. 
+
+Exercise 2.56: Show how to extend the basic differentiator 
+to handle more kinds of expressions. For instance, imple- 
+ment the differentiation rule 
+
+<*("") _ nu n-i^ 
+dx dx 
+
+by adding a new clause to the deriv program and defining 
+appropriate procedures exponentiation?, base, exponent, 
+and make-exponentiation. (You may use the symbol ** 
+to denote exponentiation.) Build in the rules that anything 
+raised to the power 0 is 1 and anything raised to the power 
+1 is the thing itself. 
+
+Exercise 2.57: Extend the differentiation program to han- 
+dle sums and products of arbitrary numbers of (two or more) 
+terms. Then the last example above could be expressed as 
+
+(deriv ' (* x y (+ x 3)) 'x) 
+
+
+
+203 
+
+
+
+Try to do this by changing only the representation for sums 
+and products, without changing the deri v procedure at all. 
+For example, the addend of a sum would be the first term, 
+and the augend would be the sum of the rest of the terms. 
+
+Exercise 2.58: Suppose we want to modify the differentia- 
+tion program so that it works with ordinary mathematical 
+notation, in which + and * are infix rather than prefix opera- 
+tors. Since the differentiation program is defined in terms of 
+abstract data, we can modify it to work with different repre- 
+sentations of expressions solely by changing the predicates, 
+selectors, and constructors that define the representation of 
+the algebraic expressions on which the differentiator is to 
+operate. 
+
+a. Show how to do this in order to differentiate algebraic 
+expressions presented in infix form, such as (x + (3 
+* (* + (y + 2)))). To simplify the task, assume that 
++ and * always take two arguments and that expres- 
+sions are fully parenthesized. 
+
+b. The problem becomes substantially harder if we allow 
+standard algebraic notation, such as(x + 3*(x + 
+y + 2)), which drops unnecessary parentheses and 
+assumes that multiplication is done before addition. 
+Can you design appropriate predicates, selectors, and 
+constructors for this notation such that our derivative 
+program still works? 
+
+
+
+204 
+
+
+
+2.3.3 Example: Representing Sets 
+
+In the previous examples we built representations for two kinds of com- 
+pound data objects: rational numbers and algebraic expressions. In one 
+of these examples we had the choice of simplifying (reducing) the ex- 
+pressions at either construction time or selection time, but other than 
+that the choice of a representation for these structures in terms of lists 
+was straightforward. When we turn to the representation of sets, the 
+choice of a representation is not so obvious. Indeed, there are a num- 
+ber of possible representations, and they differ significantly from one 
+another in several ways. 
+
+Informally, a set is simply a collection of distinct objects. To give 
+a more precise definition we can employ the method of data abstrac- 
+tion. That is, we define "set" by specifying the operations that are to be 
+used on sets. These are union-set, intersection-set, element-of- 
+set?, and adjoin-set. Element-of-set? is a predicate that determines 
+whether a given element is a member of a set. Adjoin-set takes an ob- 
+ject and a set as arguments and returns a set that contains the elements 
+of the original set and also the adjoined element. Union-set computes 
+the union of two sets, which is the set containing each element that 
+appears in either argument. Intersection-set computes the intersec- 
+tion of two sets, which is the set containing only elements that appear 
+in both arguments. From the viewpoint of data abstraction, we are free 
+to design any representation that implements these operations in a way 
+consistent with the interpretations given above. 37 
+
+37 If we want to be more formal, we can specify "consistent with the interpretations 
+given above" to mean that the operations satisfy a collection of rules such as these: 
+
+• For any set S and any object x, (element-of-set? x (adjoin-set x S)) is true 
+(informally: "Adjoining an object to a set produces a set that contains the object"). 
+
+• For any sets S and T and any object x, (element-of-set? x (union-set S T)) is 
+
+
+
+205 
+
+
+
+Sets as unordered lists 
+
+One way to represent a set is as a list of its elements in which no el- 
+ement appears more than once. The empty set is represented by the 
+empty list. In this representation, element-of-set? is similar to the 
+procedure memq of Section 2.3.1. It uses equal? instead of eq? so that 
+the set elements need not be symbols: 
+
+(define (element-of-set? x set) 
+(cond ((null? set) false) 
+
+((equal? x (car set)) true) 
+
+(else (element-of-set? x (cdr set))))) 
+
+Using this, we can write adjoin-set. If the object to be adjoined is al- 
+ready in the set, we just return the set. Otherwise, we use cons to add 
+the object to the list that represents the set: 
+
+(define (adjoin-set x set) 
+(if (element-of-set? x set) 
+set 
+
+(cons x set))) 
+
+For intersection-set we can use a recursive strategy. If we know how 
+to form the intersection of set2 and the cdr of setl, we only need to 
+decide whether to include the car of setl in this. But this depends on 
+whether (car setl ) is also in set2. Here is the resulting procedure: 
+
+(define (intersection-set setl set2) 
+
+(cond ((or (null? setl) (null? set2)) '()) 
+((element-of-set? (car setl) set2) 
+
+(cons (car setl) (intersection-set (cdr setl) set2))) 
+(else (intersection-set (cdr setl) set2)))) 
+
+equal to (or (element-of-set? x S) (element-of-set? x T)) (informally: "The 
+elements of (union S T) are the elements that are in S or in T"). 
+
+• For any object x, (element-of-set? x ' ()) is false (informally: "No object is an 
+element of the empty set"). 
+
+206 
+
+
+
+In designing a representation, one of the issues we should be concerned 
+with is efficiency. Consider the number of steps required by our set 
+operations. Since they all use element-of-set?, the speed of this oper- 
+ation has a major impact on the efficiency of the set implementation as 
+a whole. Now, in order to check whether an object is a member of a set, 
+element-of-set? may have to scan the entire set. (In the worst case, 
+the object turns out not to be in the set.) Hence, if the set has n elements, 
+element-of-set? might take up to n steps. Thus, the number of steps 
+required grows as 0(n). The number of steps required by adjoin-set, 
+which uses this operation, also grows as 0(n). For intersection-set, 
+which does an element-of-set? check for each element of setl, the 
+number of steps required grows as the product of the sizes of the sets 
+involved, or 6(n 2 ) for two sets of size n. The same will be true of union- 
+set. 
+
+Exercise 2.59: Implement the union-set operation for the 
+unordered-list representation of sets. 
+
+Exercise 2.60: We specified that a set would be represented 
+as a list with no duplicates. Now suppose we allow dupli- 
+cates. For instance, the set {1, 2, 3} could be represented as 
+the list (2 3 2 1 3 2 2). Design procedures element- 
+of-set?, adjoin-set, union-set, and intersection-set 
+that operate on this representation. How does the efficiency 
+of each compare with the corresponding procedure for the 
+non-duplicate representation? Are there applications for which 
+you would use this representation in preference to the non- 
+duplicate one? 
+
+
+
+207 
+
+
+
+Sets as ordered lists 
+
+One way to speed up our set operations is to change the representation 
+so that the set elements are listed in increasing order. To do this, we 
+need some way to compare two objects so that we can say which is 
+bigger. For example, we could compare symbols lexicographically, or 
+we could agree on some method for assigning a unique number to an 
+object and then compare the elements by comparing the corresponding 
+numbers. To keep our discussion simple, we will consider only the case 
+where the set elements are numbers, so that we can compare elements 
+using > and <. We will represent a set of numbers by listing its elements 
+in increasing order. Whereas our first representation above allowed us 
+to represent the set {1,3, 6, 10} by listing the elements in any order, our 
+new representation allows only the list ( 1 3 6 10). 
+
+One advantage of ordering shows up in element-of -set?: In check- 
+ing for the presence of an item, we no longer have to scan the entire set. 
+If we reach a set element that is larger than the item we are looking for, 
+then we know that the item is not in the set: 
+
+(define (element-of-set? x set) 
+(cond ((null? set) false) 
+
+((= x (car set)) true) 
+
+((< x (car set)) false) 
+
+(else (element-of-set? x (cdr set))))) 
+
+How many steps does this save? In the worst case, the item we are 
+looking for may be the largest one in the set, so the number of steps 
+is the same as for the unordered representation. On the other hand, if 
+we search for items of many different sizes we can expect that some- 
+times we will be able to stop searching at a point near the beginning of 
+the list and that other times we will still need to examine most of the 
+list. On the average we should expect to have to examine about half of 
+
+
+
+208 
+
+
+
+the items in the set. Thus, the average number of steps required will be 
+about n/2. This is still 0(n) growth, but it does save us, on the average, 
+a factor of 2 in number of steps over the previous implementation. 
+
+We obtain a more impressive speedup with intersection-set. In 
+the unordered representation this operation required Q(n 2 ) steps, be- 
+cause we performed a complete scan of set2 for each element of setl . 
+But with the ordered representation, we can use a more clever method. 
+Begin by comparing the initial elements, x1 and x2, of the two sets. If 
+x1 equals x2, then that gives an element of the intersection, and the rest 
+of the intersection is the intersection of the cdr-s of the two sets. Sup- 
+pose, however, that x1 is less than x2. Since x2 is the smallest element 
+in set2, we can immediately conclude that x1 cannot appear anywhere 
+in set2 and hence is not in the intersection. Hence, the intersection is 
+equal to the intersection of set2 with the cdr of setl . Similarly, if x2 
+is less than x1 , then the intersection is given by the intersection of setl 
+with the cdr of set2. Here is the procedure: 
+
+(define (intersection-set setl set2) 
+(if (or (null? setl) (null? set2)) 
+'() 
+
+(let ((x1 (car setl)) (x2 (car set2))) 
+(cond ((= x1 x2) 
+
+(cons x1 (intersection-set (cdr setl) 
+
+(cdr set2)))) 
+
+((< x1 x2) 
+
+(intersection-set (cdr setl) set2)) 
+((< x2 xl) 
+
+(intersection-set setl (cdr set2))))))) 
+
+To estimate the number of steps required by this process, observe that 
+at each step we reduce the intersection problem to computing inter- 
+sections of smaller sets— removing the first element from setl or set2 
+
+
+
+209 
+
+
+
+or both. Thus, the number of steps required is at most the sum of the 
+sizes of setl and set2, rather than the product of the sizes as with the 
+unordered representation. This is 0(n) growth rather than Q(n 2 )— a con- 
+siderable speedup, even for sets of moderate size. 
+
+Exercise 2.6T: Give an implementation of adjoin-set us- 
+ing the ordered representation. By analogy with element- 
+of-set? show how to take advantage of the ordering to 
+produce a procedure that requires on the average about half 
+as many steps as with the unordered representation. 
+
+Exercise 2.62: Give a 0(n) implementation of union-set 
+for sets represented as ordered lists. 
+
+Sets as binary trees 
+
+We can do better than the ordered-list representation by arranging the 
+set elements in the form of a tree. Each node of the tree holds one ele- 
+ment of the set, called the "entry" at that node, and a link to each of two 
+other (possibly empty) nodes. The "left" link points to elements smaller 
+than the one at the node, and the "right" link to elements greater than 
+the one at the node. Figure 2.16 shows some trees that represent the set 
+{1, 3, 5, 7, 9, 11}. The same set may be represented by a tree in a number 
+of different ways. The only thing we require for a valid representation 
+is that all elements in the left subtree be smaller than the node entry 
+and that all elements in the right subtree be larger. 
+
+The advantage of the tree representation is this: Suppose we want to 
+check whether a number x is contained in a set. We begin by comparing 
+x with the entry in the top node. If x is less than this, we know that we 
+need only search the left subtree; if x is greater, we need only search 
+the right subtree. Now, if the tree is "balanced," each of these subtrees 
+
+
+
+210 
+
+
+
+7 3 5 
+
+
+
+
+3 9 1 7 3 9 
+
+
+
+
+1 5 11 5 9 1 7 11 
+
+\ 
+
+11 
+
+Figure 2.T6: Various binary trees that represent the set 
+{1,3,5,7,9,11}. 
+
+will be about half the size of the original. Thus, in one step we have 
+reduced the problem of searching a tree of size n to searching a tree 
+of size n/2. Since the size of the tree is halved at each step, we should 
+expect that the number of steps needed to search a tree of size n grows 
+as 0(log n). 38 For large sets, this will be a significant speedup over the 
+previous representations. 
+
+We can represent trees by using lists. Each node will be a list of three 
+items: the entry at the node, the left subtree, and the right subtree. A left 
+or a right subtree of the empty list will indicate that there is no subtree 
+connected there. We can describe this representation by the following 
+procedures: 39 
+
+38 Halving the size of the problem at each step is the distinguishing characteristic of 
+logarithmic growth, as we saw with the fast-exponentiation algorithm of Section 1.2.4 
+and the half-interval search method of Section 1.3.3. 
+
+39 We are representing sets in terms of trees, and trees in terms of lists— in effect, a 
+data abstraction built upon a data abstraction. We can regard the procedures entry, 
+left-branch, right-branch, and make-tree as a way of isolating the abstraction of a 
+"binary tree" from the particular way we might wish to represent such a tree in terms 
+of list structure. 
+
+
+
+211 
+
+
+
+(define (entry tree) (car tree)) 
+(define (left-branch tree) (cadr tree)) 
+(define (right-branch tree) (caddr tree)) 
+(define (make-tree entry left right) 
+(list entry left right)) 
+
+Now we can write the element-of-set? procedure using the strategy 
+described above: 
+
+(define (element-of-set? x set) 
+(cond ((null? set) false) 
+
+((= x (entry set)) true) 
+((< x (entry set)) 
+
+(element-of-set? x (left-branch set))) 
+((> x (entry set)) 
+(element-of-set? x (right-branch set))))) 
+
+Adjoining an item to a set is implemented similarly and also requires 
+0(logn) steps. To adjoin an item x, we compare x with the node en- 
+try to determine whether x should be added to the right or to the left 
+branch, and having adjoined x to the appropriate branch we piece this 
+newly constructed branch together with the original entry and the other 
+branch. If x is equal to the entry we just return the node. If we are asked 
+to adjoin x to an empty tree, we generate a tree that has x as the entry 
+and empty right and left branches. Here is the procedure: 
+
+(define (adjoin-set x set) 
+
+(cond ((null? set) (make-tree x '() '())) 
+((= x (entry set)) set) 
+((< x (entry set)) 
+(make-tree (entry set) 
+
+(adjoin-set x (left-branch set)) 
+(right-branch set))) 
+((> x (entry set)) 
+
+
+
+212 
+
+
+
+(make-tree (entry set) (left-branch set) 
+
+(adjoin-set x (right-branch set)))))) 
+
+The above claim that searching the tree can be performed in a logarith- 
+mic number of steps rests on the assumption that the tree is "balanced," 
+i.e., that the left and the right subtree of every tree have approximately 
+the same number of elements, so that each subtree contains about half 
+the elements of its parent. But how can we be certain that the trees we 
+construct will be balanced? Even if we start with a balanced tree, adding 
+elements with adjoin-set may produce an unbalanced result. Since the 
+position of a newly adjoined element depends on how the element com- 
+pares with the items already in the set, we can expect that if we add ele- 
+ments "randomly" the tree will tend to be balanced on the average. But 
+this is not a guarantee. For example, if we start with an empty set and 
+adjoin the numbers 1 through 7 in sequence we end up with the highly 
+unbalanced tree shown in Figure 2.17. In this tree all the left subtrees 
+are empty, so it has no advantage over a simple ordered list. One way to 
+solve this problem is to define an operation that transforms an arbitrary 
+tree into a balanced tree with the same elements. Then we can perform 
+this transformation after every few adjoin-set operations to keep our 
+set in balance. There are also other ways to solve this problem, most of 
+which involve designing new data structures for which searching and 
+insertion both can be done in 0(log n) steps. 40 
+
+Exercise 2.63: Each of the following two procedures con- 
+verts a binary tree to a list. 
+
+(define (tree->list-1 tree) 
+(if (null? tree) 
+
+40 Examples of such structures include B-trees and red-black trees. There is a large 
+literature on data structures devoted to this problem. See Cormen et al. 1990. 
+
+
+
+213 
+
+
+
+1 
+
+\ 
+
+2 
+
+
+
+
+4 
+
+
+
+\ 
+
+5 
+
+\ 
+
+6 
+
+\ 
+
+7 
+
+
+
+Figure 2.T7: Unbalanced tree produced by adjoining 1 
+through 7 in sequence. 
+
+
+
+'() 
+
+(append (tree->list-1 (left-branch tree)) 
+(cons (entry tree) 
+(tree->list-1 
+
+(right-branch tree)))))) 
+(define (tree->list-2 tree) 
+
+(define (copy-to-list tree result-list) 
+(if (null? tree) 
+result-list 
+
+(copy-to-list (left-branch tree) 
+(cons (entry tree) 
+(copy-to-list 
+
+(right-branch tree) 
+result-list))))) 
+
+(copy-to-list tree '())) 
+
+a. Do the two procedures produce the same result for 
+every tree? If not, how do the results differ? What lists 
+
+
+
+214 
+
+
+
+do the two procedures produce for the trees in Figure 
+2.16? 
+
+b. Do the two procedures have the same order of growth 
+in the number of steps required to convert a balanced 
+tree with n elements to a list? If not, which one grows 
+more slowly? 
+
+Exercise 2.64: The following procedure list->tree con- 
+verts an ordered list to a balanced binary tree. The helper 
+procedure partial-tree takes as arguments an integer n 
+and list of at least n elements and constructs a balanced 
+tree containing the first n elements of the list. The result re- 
+turned by partial-tree is a pair (formed with cons) whose 
+car is the constructed tree and whose cdr is the list of ele- 
+ments not included in the tree. 
+
+(define (list->tree elements) 
+
+(car (partial-tree elements (length elements)))) 
+(define (partial-tree elts n) 
+
+(if (= n 0) 
+
+(cons '() elts) 
+
+(let ((left-size (quotient (- n 1) 2))) 
+(let ((left-result 
+
+(partial-tree elts left-size))) 
+(let ((left-tree (car left-result)) 
+
+(non-lef t-elts (cdr left-result)) 
+(right-size (- n (+ left-size 1)))) 
+(let ((this-entry (car non-left-elts)) 
+(right-result 
+(partial-tree 
+(cdr non-left-elts) 
+right-size))) 
+
+
+
+215 
+
+
+
+(let ((right-tree (car right-result)) 
+(remaining-elts 
+(cdr right-result))) 
+(cons (make-tree this-entry 
+left-tree 
+right-tree) 
+remaining-elts)))))))) 
+
+a. Write a short paragraph explaining as clearly as you 
+can how partial-tree works. Draw the tree produced 
+by list->tree for the list (1 3 5 7 9 1 1 ). 
+
+b. What is the order of growth in the number of steps re- 
+quired by list->tree to convert a list of n elements? 
+
+Exercise 2.65: Use the results of Exercise 2.63 and Exer- 
+cise 2.64 to give 0(n) implementations of union-set and 
+intersection-set for sets implemented as (balanced) bi- 
+nary trees. 41 
+
+Sets and information retrieval 
+
+We have examined options for using lists to represent sets and have 
+seen how the choice of representation for a data object can have a large 
+impact on the performance of the programs that use the data. Another 
+reason for concentrating on sets is that the techniques discussed here 
+appear again and again in applications involving information retrieval. 
+
+Consider a data base containing a large number of individual records, 
+such as the personnel files for a company or the transactions in an ac- 
+counting system. A typical data-management system spends a large 
+
+41 Exercise 2.63 through Exercise 2.65 are due to Paul Hilfinger. 
+
+
+
+216 
+
+
+
+amount of time accessing or modifying the data in the records and 
+therefore requires an efficient method for accessing records. This is done 
+by identifying a part of each record to serve as an identifying key. A 
+key can be anything that uniquely identifies the record. For a personnel 
+file, it might be an employee's ID number. For an accounting system, it 
+might be a transaction number. Whatever the key is, when we define the 
+record as a data structure we should include a key selector procedure 
+that retrieves the key associated with a given record. 
+
+Now we represent the data base as a set of records. To locate the 
+record with a given key we use a procedure lookup, which takes as 
+arguments a key and a data base and which returns the record that has 
+that key, or false if there is no such record. Lookup is implemented in 
+almost the same way as element-of-set?. For example, if the set of 
+records is implemented as an unordered list, we could use 
+
+(define (lookup given-key set-of-records) 
+(cond ((null? set-of-records) false) 
+
+((equal? given-key (key (car set-of-records))) 
+
+(car set-of-records)) 
+(else (lookup given-key (cdr set-of-records))))) 
+
+Of course, there are better ways to represent large sets than as un- 
+ordered lists. Information-retrieval systems in which records have to be 
+"randomly accessed" are typically implemented by a tree-based method, 
+such as the binary-tree representation discussed previously. In design- 
+ing such a system the methodology of data abstraction can be a great 
+help. The designer can create an initial implementation using a sim- 
+ple, straightforward representation such as unordered lists. This will be 
+unsuitable for the eventual system, but it can be useful in providing a 
+"quick and dirty" data base with which to test the rest of the system. 
+Later on, the data representation can be modified to be more sophisti- 
+
+
+
+217 
+
+
+
+cated. If the data base is accessed in terms of abstract selectors and con- 
+structors, this change in representation will not require any changes to 
+the rest of the system. 
+
+Exercise 2.66: Implement the lookup procedure for the case 
+where the set of records is structured as a binary tree, or- 
+dered by the numerical values of the keys. 
+
+2.3.4 Example: Huffman Encoding Trees 
+
+This section provides practice in the use of list structure and data ab- 
+straction to manipulate sets and trees. The application is to methods for 
+representing data as sequences of ones and zeros (bits). For example, 
+the ASCII standard code used to represent text in computers encodes 
+each character as a sequence of seven bits. Using seven bits allows us 
+to distinguish 2 7 , or 128, possible different characters. In general, if we 
+want to distinguish n different symbols, we will need to use log 2 n bits 
+per symbol. If all our messages are made up of the eight symbols A, B, 
+C, D, E, F, G, and H, we can choose a code with three bits per character, 
+for example 
+
+A 000 C 010 E 100 G 110 
+B 001 D 011 F 101 H 111 
+
+With this code, the message 
+
+BACADAEAFABBAAAGAH 
+
+is encoded as the string of 54 bits 
+
+001 00001 000001 1 0001 000001 01 000001 001 0000000001 1 00001 1 1 
+
+
+
+218 
+
+
+
+Codes such as ASCII and the A-through-H code above are known as 
+fixed-length codes, because they represent each symbol in the message 
+with the same number of bits. It is sometimes advantageous to use variable- 
+length codes, in which different symbols may be represented by differ- 
+ent numbers of bits. For example, Morse code does not use the same 
+number of dots and dashes for each letter of the alphabet. In particular, 
+E, the most frequent letter, is represented by a single dot. In general, if 
+our messages are such that some symbols appear very frequently and 
+some very rarely, we can encode data more efficiently (i.e., using fewer 
+bits per message) if we assign shorter codes to the frequent symbols. 
+Consider the following alternative code for the letters A through H: 
+
+A 0 C 1010 E 1100 G 1110 
+
+B 100 D 1011 F 1101 H 1111 
+
+With this code, the same message as above is encoded as the string 
+
+100010100101101100011010100100000111001111 
+
+This string contains 42 bits, so it saves more than 20% in space in com- 
+parison with the fixed-length code shown above. 
+
+One of the difficulties of using a variable-length code is knowing 
+when you have reached the end of a symbol in reading a sequence of 
+zeros and ones. Morse code solves this problem by using a special sep- 
+arator code (in this case, a pause) after the sequence of dots and dashes 
+for each letter. Another solution is to design the code in such a way that 
+no complete code for any symbol is the beginning (or prefix) of the code 
+for another symbol. Such a code is called a prefix code. In the example 
+above, A is encoded by 0 and B is encoded by 100, so no other symbol 
+can have a code that begins with 0 or with 100. 
+
+
+
+219 
+
+
+
+In general, we can attain significant savings if we use variable-length 
+prefix codes that take advantage of the relative frequencies of the sym- 
+bols in the messages to be encoded. One particular scheme for doing 
+this is called the Huffman encoding method, after its discoverer, David 
+Huffman. A Huffman code can be represented as a binary tree whose 
+leaves are the symbols that are encoded. At each non-leaf node of the 
+tree there is a set containing all the symbols in the leaves that lie below 
+the node. In addition, each symbol at a leaf is assigned a weight (which 
+is its relative frequency), and each non-leaf node contains a weight that 
+is the sum of all the weights of the leaves lying below it. The weights 
+are not used in the encoding or the decoding process. We will see below 
+how they are used to help construct the tree. 
+
+Figure 2.18 shows the Huffman tree for the A-through-H code given 
+above. The weights at the leaves indicate that the tree was designed for 
+messages in which A appears with relative frequency 8, B with relative 
+frequency 3, and the other letters each with relative frequency 1. 
+
+Given a Huffman tree, we can find the encoding of any symbol by 
+starting at the root and moving down until we reach the leaf that holds 
+the symbol. Each time we move down a left branch we add a 0 to the 
+code, and each time we move down a right branch we add a 1. (We 
+decide which branch to follow by testing to see which branch either 
+is the leaf node for the symbol or contains the symbol in its set.) For 
+example, starting from the root of the tree in Figure 2.18, we arrive at 
+the leaf for D by following a right branch, then a left branch, then a right 
+branch, then a right branch; hence, the code for D is 1011. 
+
+To decode a bit sequence using a Huffman tree, we begin at the root 
+and use the successive zeros and ones of the bit sequence to determine 
+whether to move down the left or the right branch. Each time we come 
+to a leaf, we have generated a new symbol in the message, at which 
+
+
+
+220 
+
+
+
+{A B C D E F G H} 17 
+
+
+
+
+Figure 2.T8: A Huffman encoding tree. 
+
+
+
+point we start over from the root of the tree to find the next symbol. 
+For example, suppose we are given the tree above and the sequence 
+10001010. Starting at the root, we move down the right branch, (since 
+the first bit of the string is 1), then down the left branch (since the second 
+bit is 0), then down the left branch (since the third bit is also 0). This 
+brings us to the leaf for B, so the first symbol of the decoded message is 
+B. Now we start again at the root, and we make a left move because the 
+next bit in the string is 0. This brings us to the leaf for A. Then we start 
+again at the root with the rest of the string 1010, so we move right, left, 
+right, left and reach C. Thus, the entire message is BAC. 
+
+Generating Huffman trees 
+
+Given an "alphabet" of symbols and their relative frequencies, how do 
+we construct the "best" code? (In other words, which tree will encode 
+messages with the fewest bits?) Huffman gave an algorithm for doing 
+
+
+
+221 
+
+
+
+this and showed that the resulting code is indeed the best variable- 
+length code for messages where the relative frequency of the symbols 
+matches the frequencies with which the code was constructed. We will 
+not prove this optimality of Huffman codes here, but we will show how 
+Huffman trees are constructed. 42 
+
+The algorithm for generating a Huffman tree is very simple. The idea 
+is to arrange the tree so that the symbols with the lowest frequency 
+appear farthest away from the root. Begin with the set of leaf nodes, 
+containing symbols and their frequencies, as determined by the initial 
+data from which the code is to be constructed. Now find two leaves with 
+the lowest weights and merge them to produce a node that has these 
+two nodes as its left and right branches. The weight of the new node is 
+the sum of the two weights. Remove the two leaves from the original 
+set and replace them by this new node. Now continue this process. At 
+each step, merge two nodes with the smallest weights, removing them 
+from the set and replacing them with a node that has these two as its 
+left and right branches. The process stops when there is only one node 
+left, which is the root of the entire tree. Here is how the Huffman tree 
+of Figure 2.18 was generated: 
+
+Initial leaves {(A 8) (B 3) (C 1) (D 1) (E 1) (F 1) (G 1) (H 1)} 
+Merge {(A 8) (B 3) ({C D} 2) (E 1) (F 1) (G 1) (H 1)} 
+Merge {(A 8) (B 3) ({C D} 2) «E F} 2) (G 1) (H 1)} 
+Merge {(A 8) (B 3) ({C D} 2) «E F} 2) ({G H} 2)} 
+Merge {(A 8) (B 3) ({C D} 2) ({E F G H} 4)} 
+Merge {(A 8) ({B C D} 5) ({E F G H} 4)} 
+Merge {(A 8) ({B C D E F G H} 9)} 
+Final merge {({A B C D E F G H} 17)} 
+
+42 See Hamming 1980 for a discussion of the mathematical properties of Huffman 
+codes. 
+
+
+
+222 
+
+
+
+The algorithm does not always specify a unique tree, because there may 
+not be unique smallest- weight nodes at each step. Also, the choice of the 
+order in which the two nodes are merged (i.e., which will be the right 
+branch and which will be the left branch) is arbitrary. 
+
+Representing Huffman trees 
+
+In the exercises below we will work with a system that uses Huffman 
+trees to encode and decode messages and generates Huffman trees ac- 
+cording to the algorithm outlined above. We will begin by discussing 
+how trees are represented. 
+
+Leaves of the tree are represented by a list consisting of the symbol 
+leaf, the symbol at the leaf, and the weight: 
+
+(define (make-leaf symbol weight) (list 'leaf symbol weight)) 
+(define (leaf? object) (eq? (car object) 'leaf)) 
+(define (symbol-leaf x) (cadr x)) 
+(define (weight-leaf x) (caddr x)) 
+
+A general tree will be a list of a left branch, a right branch, a set of 
+symbols, and a weight. The set of symbols will be simply a list of the 
+symbols, rather than some more sophisticated set representation. When 
+we make a tree by merging two nodes, we obtain the weight of the 
+tree as the sum of the weights of the nodes, and the set of symbols as 
+the union of the sets of symbols for the nodes. Since our symbol sets 
+are represented as lists, we can form the union by using the append 
+procedure we defined in Section 2.2.1: 
+
+(define (make-code-tree left right) 
+(list left 
+right 
+
+(append (symbols left) (symbols right)) 
+(+ (weight left) (weight right)))) 
+
+
+
+223 
+
+
+
+If we make a tree in this way, we have the following selectors: 
+
+(define (left-branch tree) (car tree)) 
+(define (right-branch tree) (cadr tree)) 
+(define (symbols tree) 
+(if (leaf? tree) 
+
+(list (symbol-leaf tree)) 
+
+(caddr tree))) 
+(define (weight tree) 
+(if (leaf? tree) 
+
+(weight-leaf tree) 
+
+(cadddr tree))) 
+
+The procedures symbols and weight must do something slightly differ- 
+ent depending on whether they are called with a leaf or a general tree. 
+These are simple examples of generic procedures (procedures that can 
+handle more than one kind of data), which we will have much more to 
+say about in Section 2.4 and Section 2.5. 
+
+The decoding procedure 
+
+The following procedure implements the decoding algorithm. It takes 
+as arguments a list of zeros and ones, together with a Huffman tree. 
+
+(define (decode bits tree) 
+
+(define (decode-1 bits current-branch) 
+(if (null? bits) 
+'() 
+
+(let ((next-branch 
+
+(choose-branch (car bits) current-branch))) 
+(if (leaf? next-branch) 
+
+(cons (symbol-leaf next-branch) 
+
+(decode-1 (cdr bits) tree)) 
+(decode-1 (cdr bits) next-branch))))) 
+(decode-1 bits tree)) 
+
+
+
+224 
+
+
+
+(define (choose-branch bit branch) 
+
+(cond ((= bit 0) (left-branch branch)) 
+((= bit 1) (right-branch branch)) 
+(else (error "bad bit: CHOOSE-BRANCH" bit)))) 
+
+The procedure decode- 1 takes two arguments: the list of remaining bits 
+and the current position in the tree. It keeps moving "down" the tree, 
+choosing a left or a right branch according to whether the next bit in the 
+list is a zero or a one. (This is done with the procedure choose-branch.) 
+When it reaches a leaf, it returns the symbol at that leaf as the next 
+symbol in the message by consing it onto the result of decoding the 
+rest of the message, starting at the root of the tree. Note the error check 
+in the final clause of choose-branch, which complains if the procedure 
+finds something other than a zero or a one in the input data. 
+
+Sets of weighted elements 
+
+In our representation of trees, each non-leaf node contains a set of sym- 
+bols, which we have represented as a simple list. However, the tree- 
+generating algorithm discussed above requires that we also work with 
+sets of leaves and trees, successively merging the two smallest items. 
+Since we will be required to repeatedly find the smallest item in a set, it 
+is convenient to use an ordered representation for this kind of set. 
+
+We will represent a set of leaves and trees as a list of elements, ar- 
+ranged in increasing order of weight. The following adjoin-set pro- 
+cedure for constructing sets is similar to the one described in Exercise 
+2.61; however, items are compared by their weights, and the element 
+being added to the set is never already in it. 
+
+(define (adjoin-set x set) 
+(cond ((null? set) (list x)) 
+
+((< (weight x) (weight (car set))) (cons x set)) 
+
+
+
+225 
+
+
+
+(else (cons (car set) 
+
+(adjoin-set x (cdr set)))))) 
+
+
+
+The following procedure takes a list of symbol-frequency pairs such as 
+((A 4) (B 2) (C 1) (D 1 )) and constructs an initial ordered set of 
+leaves, ready to be merged according to the Huffman algorithm: 
+
+(define (make-leaf-set pairs) 
+(if (null? pairs) 
+'() 
+
+(let ((pair (car pairs))) 
+
+(adjoin-set (make-leaf (car pair) ; symbol 
+
+(cadr pair)) ; frequency 
+(make-leaf-set (cdr pairs)))))) 
+
+
+
+Exercise 2.67: Define an encoding tree and a sample mes- 
+sage: 
+
+(define sample-tree 
+
+(make-code-tree (make-leaf 'A 4) 
+(make-code-tree 
+(make-leaf 'B 2) 
+(make-code-tree 
+(make-leaf 'D 1) 
+(make-leaf 'C 1))))) 
+(define sample-message '(0110010101110)) 
+
+Use the decode procedure to decode the message, and give 
+the result. 
+
+
+
+Exercise 2.68: The encode procedure takes as arguments a 
+message and a tree and produces the list of bits that gives 
+the encoded message. 
+
+
+
+226 
+
+
+
+(define (encode message tree) 
+(if (null? message) 
+'() 
+
+(append (encode-symbol (car message) tree) 
+(encode (cdr message) tree)))) 
+
+Encode-symbol is a procedure, which you must write, that 
+returns the list of bits that encodes a given symbol accord- 
+ing to a given tree. You should design encode-symbol so 
+that it signals an error if the symbol is not in the tree at all. 
+Test your procedure by encoding the result you obtained in 
+Exercise 2.67 with the sample tree and seeing whether it is 
+the same as the original sample message. 
+
+Exercise 2.69: The following procedure takes as its argu- 
+ment a list of symbol-frequency pairs (where no symbol 
+appears in more than one pair) and generates a Huffman 
+encoding tree according to the Huffman algorithm. 
+
+(define (generate-huf fman-tree pairs) 
+
+(successive-merge (make-leaf-set pairs))) 
+
+Make-leaf-set is the procedure given above that trans- 
+forms the list of pairs into an ordered set of leaves. Successive- 
+merge is the procedure you must write, using make-code- 
+tree to successively merge the smallest-weight elements 
+of the set until there is only one element left, which is the 
+desired Huffman tree. (This procedure is slightly tricky, but 
+not really complicated. If you find yourself designing a com- 
+plex procedure, then you are almost certainly doing some- 
+thing wrong. You can take significant advantage of the fact 
+that we are using an ordered set representation.) 
+
+
+
+227 
+
+
+
+Exercise 2.70: The following eight-symbol alphabet with 
+associated relative frequencies was designed to efficiently 
+encode the lyrics of 1950s rock songs. (Note that the "sym- 
+bols" of an "alphabet" need not be individual letters.) 
+
+A 2 GET 2 SHA 3 WAH 1 
+BOOM 1 JOB 2 NA 16 YIP 9 
+
+Use generate-huffman-tree (Exercise 2.69) to generate a 
+corresponding Huffman tree, and use encode (Exercise 2.68) 
+to encode the following message: 
+
+Get a job 
+
+Sha na na na na na na na na 
+Get a job 
+
+Sha na na na na na na na na 
+
+Wah yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip 
+
+Sha boom 
+
+How many bits are required for the encoding? What is the 
+smallest number of bits that would be needed to encode this 
+song if we used a fixed-length code for the eight-symbol 
+alphabet? 
+
+Exercise 2.7 T: Suppose we have a Huffman tree for an al- 
+phabet of n symbols, and that the relative frequencies of 
+the symbols are 1, 2, 4, ... , 2"" 1 . Sketch the tree for n = 5; 
+for n = 10. In such a tree (for general n) how many bits 
+are required to encode the most frequent symbol? The least 
+frequent symbol? 
+
+
+
+228 
+
+
+
+Exercise 2.72: Consider the encoding procedure that you 
+designed in Exercise 2.68. What is the order of growth in 
+the number of steps needed to encode a symbol? Be sure 
+to include the number of steps needed to search the sym- 
+bol list at each node encountered. To answer this question 
+in general is difficult. Consider the special case where the 
+relative frequencies of the n symbols are as described in Ex- 
+ercise 2.71, and give the order of growth (as a function of n) 
+of the number of steps needed to encode the most frequent 
+and least frequent symbols in the alphabet. 
+
+2.4 Multiple Representations for Abstract Data 
+
+We have introduced data abstraction, a methodology for structuring 
+systems in such a way that much of a program can be specified indepen- 
+dent of the choices involved in implementing the data objects that the 
+program manipulates. For example, we saw in Section 2.1.1 how to sep- 
+arate the task of designing a program that uses rational numbers from 
+the task of implementing rational numbers in terms of the computer 
+language's primitive mechanisms for constructing compound data. The 
+key idea was to erect an abstraction barrier— in this case, the selec- 
+tors and constructors for rational numbers (make-rat, numer, denom)— 
+that isolates the way rational numbers are used from their underlying 
+representation in terms of list structure. A similar abstraction barrier 
+isolates the details of the procedures that perform rational arithmetic 
+(add-rat, sub-rat, mul-rat, and div-rat) from the "higher-level" pro- 
+cedures that use rational numbers. The resulting program has the struc- 
+ture shown in Figure 2.1. 
+
+These data-abstraction barriers are powerful tools for controlling 
+
+
+
+229 
+
+
+
+complexity. By isolating the underlying representations of data objects, 
+we can divide the task of designing a large program into smaller tasks 
+that can be performed separately. But this kind of data abstraction is not 
+yet powerful enough, because it may not always make sense to speak 
+of "the underlying representation" for a data object. 
+
+For one thing, there might be more than one useful representation 
+for a data object, and we might like to design systems that can deal with 
+multiple representations. To take a simple example, complex numbers 
+may be represented in two almost equivalent ways: in rectangular form 
+(real and imaginary parts) and in polar form (magnitude and angle). 
+Sometimes rectangular form is more appropriate and sometimes polar 
+form is more appropriate. Indeed, it is perfectly plausible to imagine a 
+system in which complex numbers are represented in both ways, and 
+in which the procedures for manipulating complex numbers work with 
+either representation. 
+
+More importantly, programming systems are often designed by many 
+people working over extended periods of time, subject to requirements 
+that change over time. In such an environment, it is simply not possi- 
+ble for everyone to agree in advance on choices of data representation. 
+So in addition to the data-abstraction barriers that isolate representa- 
+tion from use, we need abstraction barriers that isolate different de- 
+sign choices from each other and permit different choices to coexist in 
+a single program. Furthermore, since large programs are often created 
+by combining pre-existing modules that were designed in isolation, we 
+need conventions that permit programmers to incorporate modules into 
+larger systems additively, that is, without having to redesign or reimple- 
+ment these modules. 
+
+In this section, we will learn how to cope with data that may be 
+represented in different ways by different parts of a program. This re- 
+
+
+
+230 
+
+
+
+quires constructing generic procedures— procedures that can operate on 
+data that may be represented in more than one way. Our main technique 
+for building generic procedures will be to work in terms of data objects 
+that have type tags, that is, data objects that include explicit information 
+about how they are to be processed. We will also discuss data-directed 
+programming, a powerful and convenient implementation strategy for 
+additively assembling systems with generic operations. 
+
+We begin with the simple complex-number example. We will see 
+how type tags and data-directed style enable us to design separate rect- 
+angular and polar representations for complex numbers while main- 
+taining the notion of an abstract "complex-number" data object. We will 
+accomplish this by defining arithmetic procedures for complex numbers 
+(add-complex, sub-complex, mul-complex, and div-complex) in terms 
+of generic selectors that access parts of a complex number independent 
+of how the number is represented. The resulting complex-number sys- 
+tem, as shown in Figure 2.19, contains two different kinds of abstrac- 
+tion barriers. The "horizontal" abstraction barriers play the same role 
+as the ones in Figure 2.1. They isolate"higher-level" operations from 
+"lower-level" representations. In addition, there is a "vertical" barrier 
+that gives us the ability to separately design and install alternative rep- 
+resentations. 
+
+In Section 2.5 we will show how to use type tags and data-directed 
+style to develop a generic arithmetic package. This provides procedures 
+(add, mul, and so on) that can be used to manipulate all sorts of "num- 
+bers" and can be easily extended when a new kind of number is needed. 
+In Section 2.5.3, we'll show how to use generic arithmetic in a system 
+that performs symbolic algebra. 
+
+
+
+231 
+
+
+
+Programs that use complex numbers 
+
+
+
+
+
+add-complex sub-complex 
+
+
+mul-complex div-complex 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Complex-arithmetic package 
+
+
+
+
+Rectangular 
+representation 
+
+
+Polar 
+representation 
+
+
+
+List structure and primitive machine arithmetic 
+
+
+
+Figure 2.T9: Data-abstraction barriers in the complex- 
+number system. 
+
+2.4.1 Representations for Complex Numbers 
+
+We will develop a system that performs arithmetic operations on com- 
+plex numbers as a simple but unrealistic example of a program that uses 
+generic operations. We begin by discussing two plausible representa- 
+tions for complex numbers as ordered pairs: rectangular form (real part 
+and imaginary part) and polar form (magnitude and angle). 43 Section 
+
+2.4.2 will show how both representations can be made to coexist in a 
+single system through the use of type tags and generic operations. 
+
+Like rational numbers, complex numbers are naturally represented 
+as ordered pairs. The set of complex numbers can be thought of as a 
+two-dimensional space with two orthogonal axes, the "real" axis and the 
+
+43 In actual computational systems, rectangular form is preferable to polar form most 
+of the time because of roundoff errors in conversion between rectangular and polar 
+form. This is why the complex-number example is unrealistic. Nevertheless, it provides 
+a clear illustration of the design of a system using generic operations and a good intro- 
+duction to the more substantial systems to be developed later in this chapter. 
+
+
+
+232 
+
+
+
+Imaginary 
+
+
+
+V 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+» z = 
+
+
+
+
+r 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+X 
+
+
+
+x + iy = re' 
+
+
+
+Real 
+
+
+
+Figure 2.20: Complex numbers as points in the plane. 
+
+"imaginary" axis. (See Figure 2.20.) From this point of view, the complex 
+number z = x + iy (where i 2 = -1) can be thought of as the point in the 
+plane whose real coordinate is x and whose imaginary coordinate is y. 
+Addition of complex numbers reduces in this representation to addition 
+of coordinates: 
+
+Real-part^x + z 2 ) = Real-part^) + Real-part(z 2 ), 
+Imaginary-part(zi + z 2 ) = Imaginary-part(zi) + Imaginary -part^)- 
+
+When multiplying complex numbers, it is more natural to think in 
+terms of representing a complex number in polar form, as a magnitude 
+and an angle (r and A in Figure 2.20). The product of two complex num- 
+bers is the vector obtained by stretching one complex number by the 
+length of the other and then rotating it through the angle of the other: 
+
+Magnitude(zi • z 2 ) = Magnitude^) • Magnitude(z 2 ), 
+Angle(z x • z 2 ) = Anglefo) + Angle(z 2 ). 
+
+Thus, there are two different representations for complex numbers, which 
+
+
+
+233 
+
+
+
+are appropriate for different operations. Yet, from the viewpoint of some- 
+one writing a program that uses complex numbers, the principle of data 
+abstraction suggests that all the operations for manipulating complex 
+numbers should be available regardless of which representation is used 
+by the computer. For example, it is often useful to be able to find the 
+magnitude of a complex number that is specified by rectangular coor- 
+dinates. Similarly, it is often useful to be able to determine the real part 
+of a complex number that is specified by polar coordinates. 
+
+To design such a system, we can follow the same data-abstraction 
+strategy we followed in designing the rational-number package in Sec- 
+tion 2.1.1. Assume that the operations on complex numbers are imple- 
+mented in terms of four selectors: real-part, imag-part, magnitude 
+and angle. Also assume that we have two procedures for construct- 
+ing complex numbers: make-f rom-real-imag returns a complex num- 
+ber with specified real and imaginary parts, and make-f rom-mag-ang 
+returns a complex number with specified magnitude and angle. These 
+procedures have the property that, for any complex number z, both 
+
+(make-f rom-real-imag (real-part z) (imag-part z)) 
+and 
+
+(make-f rom-mag-ang (magnitude z) (angle z)) 
+
+produce complex numbers that are equal to z. 
+
+Using these constructors and selectors, we can implement arith- 
+metic on complex numbers using the "abstract data" specified by the 
+constructors and selectors, just as we did for rational numbers in Sec- 
+tion 2.1.1. As shown in the formulas above, we can add and subtract 
+complex numbers in terms of real and imaginary parts while multiply- 
+ing and dividing complex numbers in terms of magnitudes and angles: 
+
+
+
+234 
+
+
+
+(define (add-complex z1 z2) 
+
+(make-f rom-real-imag (+ (real-part z1) (real-part z2)) 
+
+(+ (imag-part z1) (imag-part z2)))) 
+(define (sub-complex z1 z2) 
+
+(make-f rom-real-imag (- (real-part z1) (real-part z2)) 
+
+(- (imag-part z1) (imag-part z2)))) 
+(define (mul-complex z1 z2) 
+
+(make-f rom-mag-ang (* (magnitude z1) (magnitude z2)) 
+(+ (angle z1) (angle z2)))) 
+(define (div-complex z1 z2) 
+
+(make-f rom-mag-ang (/ (magnitude z1) (magnitude z2)) 
+(- (angle z1) (angle z2)))) 
+
+To complete the complex-number package, we must choose a represen- 
+tation and we must implement the constructors and selectors in terms 
+of primitive numbers and primitive list structure. There are two obvi- 
+ous ways to do this: We can represent a complex number in "rectangular 
+form" as a pair (real part, imaginary part) or in "polar form" as a pair 
+(magnitude, angle). Which shall we choose? 
+
+In order to make the different choices concrete, imagine that there 
+are two programmers, Ben Bitdiddle and Alyssa P. Hacker, who are 
+independently designing representations for the complex-number sys- 
+tem. Ben chooses to represent complex numbers in rectangular form. 
+With this choice, selecting the real and imaginary parts of a complex 
+number is straightforward, as is constructing a complex number with 
+given real and imaginary parts. To find the magnitude and the angle, or 
+to construct a complex number with a given magnitude and angle, he 
+uses the trigonometric relations 
+
+x = rcosA, r = -Jx 2 + y 2 , 
+
+y - r sin A, A — arctan(y, x), 
+
+which relate the real and imaginary parts (x, y) to the magnitude and the 
+
+
+
+235 
+
+
+
+angle (r, A). 44 Ben's representation is therefore given by the following 
+selectors and constructors: 
+
+(define (real-part z) (car z)) 
+
+(define (imag-part z) (cdr z)) 
+
+(define (magnitude z) 
+
+(sqrt (+ (square (real-part z)) 
+
+(square (imag-part z))))) 
+
+(define (angle z) 
+
+(atan (imag-part z) (real-part z))) 
+
+(define (make-f rom-real-imag x y) (cons x y)) 
+
+(define (make-f rom-mag-ang r a) 
+
+(cons (* r (cos a)) (* r (sin a)))) 
+
+Alyssa, in contrast, chooses to represent complex numbers in polar form. 
+For her, selecting the magnitude and angle is straightforward, but she 
+has to use the trigonometric relations to obtain the real and imaginary 
+parts. Alyssa's representation is: 
+
+(define (real-part z) (* (magnitude z) (cos (angle z)))) 
+(define (imag-part z) (* (magnitude z) (sin (angle z)))) 
+(define (magnitude z) (car z)) 
+(define (angle z) (cdr z)) 
+(define (make-f rom-real-imag x y) 
+
+(cons (sqrt (+ (square x) (square y))) 
+(atan y x))) 
+(define (make-f rom-mag-ang r a) (cons r a)) 
+
+The discipline of data abstraction ensures that the same implementation 
+of add-complex, sub-complex, mul-complex, and div-complex will work 
+with either Ben's representation or Alyssa's representation. 
+
+44 1he arctangent function referred to here, computed by Scheme's atan procedure, 
+is defined so as to take two arguments y and x and to return the angle whose tangent 
+is y/x. The signs of the arguments determine the quadrant of the angle. 
+
+
+
+236 
+
+
+
+2.4.2 Tagged data 
+
+One way to view data abstraction is as an application of the "princi- 
+ple of least commitment." In implementing the complex-number system 
+in Section 2.4.1, we can use either Ben's rectangular representation or 
+Alyssa's polar representation. The abstraction barrier formed by the se- 
+lectors and constructors permits us to defer to the last possible moment 
+the choice of a concrete representation for our data objects and thus 
+retain maximum flexibility in our system design. 
+
+The principle of least commitment can be carried to even further 
+extremes. If we desire, we can maintain the ambiguity of representation 
+even after we have designed the selectors and constructors, and elect 
+to use both Ben's representation and Alyssa's representation. If both 
+representations are included in a single system, however, we will need 
+some way to distinguish data in polar form from data in rectangular 
+form. Otherwise, if we were asked, for instance, to find the magnitude 
+of the pair (3, 4), we wouldn't know whether to answer 5 (interpreting 
+the number in rectangular form) or 3 (interpreting the number in polar 
+form). A straightforward way to accomplish this distinction is to include 
+a type tag— the symbol rectangular or polar— as part of each complex 
+number. Then when we need to manipulate a complex number we can 
+use the tag to decide which selector to apply. 
+
+In order to manipulate tagged data, we will assume that we have 
+procedures type-tag and contents that extract from a data object the 
+tag and the actual contents (the polar or rectangular coordinates, in the 
+case of a complex number). We will also postulate a procedure attach- 
+tag that takes a tag and contents and produces a tagged data object. A 
+straightforward way to implement this is to use ordinary list structure: 
+
+(define (attach-tag type-tag contents) 
+(cons type-tag contents)) 
+
+
+
+237 
+
+
+
+(define (type-tag datum) 
+(if (pair? datum) 
+(car datum) 
+
+(error "Bad tagged datum: TYPE-TAG" datum))) 
+(define (contents datum) 
+(if (pair? datum) 
+(cdr datum) 
+
+(error "Bad tagged datum: CONTENTS" datum))) 
+
+Using these procedures, we can define predicates rectangular? and 
+polar?, which recognize rectangular and polar numbers, respectively: 
+
+(define (rectangular? z) 
+
+(eq? (type-tag z) 'rectangular)) 
+(define (polar? z) (eq? (type-tag z) 'polar)) 
+
+With type tags, Ben and Alyssa can now modify their code so that their 
+two different representations can coexist in the same system. When- 
+ever Ben constructs a complex number, he tags it as rectangular. When- 
+ever Alyssa constructs a complex number, she tags it as polar. In addi- 
+tion, Ben and Alyssa must make sure that the names of their proce- 
+dures do not conflict. One way to do this is for Ben to append the suffix 
+rectangular to the name of each of his representation procedures and 
+for Alyssa to append polar to the names of hers. Here is Ben's revised 
+rectangular representation from Section 2.4.1: 
+
+(define (real-part-rectangular z) (car z)) 
+(define (imag-part-rectangular z) (cdr z)) 
+(define (magnitude-rectangular z) 
+
+(sqrt (+ (square (real-part-rectangular z)) 
+
+(square (imag-part-rectangular z))))) 
+(define (angle-rectangular z) 
+(atan (imag-part-rectangular z) 
+
+(real-part-rectangular z))) 
+
+
+
+238 
+
+
+
+(define (make-f rom-real-imag-rectangular x y) 
+
+(attach-tag 'rectangular (cons x y))) 
+(define (make-f rom-mag-ang-rectangular r a) 
+
+(attach-tag 'rectangular 
+
+(cons (* r (cos a)) (* r (sin a))))) 
+
+and here is Alyssa's revised polar representation: 
+
+(define (real-part-polar z) 
+
+(* (magnitude-polar z) (cos (angle-polar z)))) 
+(define (imag-part-polar z) 
+
+(* (magnitude-polar z) (sin (angle-polar z)))) 
+(define (magnitude-polar z) (car z)) 
+(define (angle-polar z) (cdr z)) 
+(define (make-f rom-real-imag-polar x y) 
+
+(attach-tag 'polar 
+
+(cons (sqrt (+ (square x) (square y))) 
+(atan y x)))) 
+(define (make-f rom-mag-ang-polar r a) 
+
+(attach-tag 'polar (cons r a))) 
+
+Each generic selector is implemented as a procedure that checks the tag 
+of its argument and calls the appropriate procedure for handling data 
+of that type. For example, to obtain the real part of a complex number, 
+real-part examines the tag to determine whether to use Ben's real- 
+part-rectangular or Alyssa's real-part-polar. In either case, we use 
+contents to extract the bare, untagged datum and send this to the rect- 
+angular or polar procedure as required: 
+
+(define (real-part z) 
+(cond ((rectangular? z) 
+
+(real-part-rectangular (contents z))) 
+((polar? z) 
+
+(real-part-polar (contents z))) 
+(else (error "Unknown type: REAL-PART" z)))) 
+
+
+
+239 
+
+
+
+(define (imag-part z) 
+(cond ((rectangular? z) 
+
+(imag-part-rectangular (contents z))) 
+((polar? z) 
+
+(imag-part-polar (contents z))) 
+(else (error "Unknown type: IMAG-PART" z)))) 
+(define (magnitude z) 
+(cond ((rectangular? z) 
+
+(magnitude-rectangular (contents z))) 
+((polar? z) 
+
+(magnitude-polar (contents z))) 
+(else (error "Unknown type: MAGNITUDE" z)))) 
+(define (angle z) 
+
+(cond ((rectangular? z) 
+
+(angle-rectangular (contents z))) 
+((polar? z) 
+
+(angle-polar (contents z))) 
+(else (error "Unknown type: ANGLE" z)))) 
+
+To implement the complex-number arithmetic operations, we can use 
+the same procedures add-complex, sub-complex, mul-complex, and di v- 
+complex from Section 2.4.1, because the selectors they call are generic, 
+and so will work with either representation. For example, the procedure 
+add-complex is still 
+
+(define (add-complex z1 z2) 
+
+(make-f rom-real-imag (+ (real-part z1) (real-part z2)) 
+
+(+ (imag-part z1) (imag-part z2)))) 
+
+Finally, we must choose whether to construct complex numbers using 
+Ben's representation or Alyssa's representation. One reasonable choice 
+is to construct rectangular numbers whenever we have real and imag- 
+inary parts and to construct polar numbers whenever we have magni- 
+tudes and angles: 
+
+
+
+240 
+
+
+
+Programs that use complex numbers 
+
+
+
+add-complex sub-complex mul-complex div-complex 
+
+
+
+Complex-arithmetic package 
+
+
+
+real-part 
+imag-part 
+
+
+
+magnitude 
+angle 
+
+
+
+Rectangular 
+representation 
+
+
+
+Polar 
+representation 
+
+
+
+List structure and primitive machine arithmetic 
+
+
+
+Figure 2.2! : Structure of the generic complex-arithmetic system. 
+
+(define (make-f rom-real-imag x y) 
+
+(make-f rom-real-imag-rectangular x y)) 
+(define (make-f rom-mag-ang r a) 
+
+(make-f rom-mag-ang-polar r a)) 
+
+The resulting complex-number system has the structure shown in Fig- 
+ure 2.21. The system has been decomposed into three relatively inde- 
+pendent parts: the complex-number-arithmetic operations, Alyssa's po- 
+lar implementation, and Ben's rectangular implementation. The polar 
+and rectangular implementations could have been written by Ben and 
+Alyssa working separately, and both of these can be used as underly- 
+ing representations by a third programmer implementing the complex- 
+arithmetic procedures in terms of the abstract constructor/selector in- 
+terface. 
+
+Since each data object is tagged with its type, the selectors operate 
+on the data in a generic manner. That is, each selector is defined to have 
+a behavior that depends upon the particular type of data it is applied to. 
+
+
+
+241 
+
+
+
+Notice the general mechanism for interfacing the separate representa- 
+tions: Within a given representation implementation (say, Alyssa's po- 
+lar package) a complex number is an untyped pair (magnitude, angle). 
+When a generic selector operates on a number of polar type, it strips off 
+the tag and passes the contents on to Alyssa's code. Conversely, when 
+Alyssa constructs a number for general use, she tags it with a type so 
+that it can be appropriately recognized by the higher-level procedures. 
+This discipline of stripping off and attaching tags as data objects are 
+passed from level to level can be an important organizational strategy, 
+as we shall see in Section 2.5. 
+
+2.4.3 Data-Directed Programming and Additivity 
+
+The general strategy of checking the type of a datum and calling an 
+appropriate procedure is called dispatching on type. This is a powerful 
+strategy for obtaining modularity in system design. On the other hand, 
+implementing the dispatch as in Section 2.4.2 has two significant weak- 
+nesses. One weakness is that the generic interface procedures (real- 
+part, imag-part, magnitude, and angle) must know about all the dif- 
+ferent representations. For instance, suppose we wanted to incorporate 
+a new representation for complex numbers into our complex-number 
+system. We would need to identify this new representation with a type, 
+and then add a clause to each of the generic interface procedures to 
+check for the new type and apply the appropriate selector for that rep- 
+resentation. 
+
+Another weakness of the technique is that even though the indi- 
+vidual representations can be designed separately, we must guarantee 
+that no two procedures in the entire system have the same name. This 
+is why Ben and Alyssa had to change the names of their original proce- 
+dures from Section 2.4.1. 
+
+
+
+242 
+
+
+
+The issue underlying both of these weaknesses is that the technique 
+for implementing generic interfaces is not additive. The person imple- 
+menting the generic selector procedures must modify those procedures 
+each time a new representation is installed, and the people interfacing 
+the individual representations must modify their code to avoid name 
+conflicts. In each of these cases, the changes that must be made to the 
+code are straightforward, but they must be made nonetheless, and this 
+is a source of inconvenience and error. This is not much of a problem 
+for the complex-number system as it stands, but suppose there were 
+not two but hundreds of different representations for complex numbers. 
+And suppose that there were many generic selectors to be maintained 
+in the abstract-data interface. Suppose, in fact, that no one program- 
+mer knew all the interface procedures or all the representations. The 
+problem is real and must be addressed in such programs as large-scale 
+data-base-management systems. 
+
+What we need is a means for modularizing the system design even 
+further. This is provided by the programming technique known as data- 
+directed programming. To understand how data-directed programming 
+works, begin with the observation that whenever we deal with a set of 
+generic operations that are common to a set of different types we are, 
+in effect, dealing with a two-dimensional table that contains the possi- 
+ble operations on one axis and the possible types on the other axis. The 
+entries in the table are the procedures that implement each operation 
+for each type of argument presented. In the complex-number system 
+developed in the previous section, the correspondence between opera- 
+tion name, data type, and actual procedure was spread out among the 
+various conditional clauses in the generic interface procedures. But the 
+same information could have been organized in a table, as shown in 
+Figure 2.22. 
+
+
+
+243 
+
+
+
+Types 
+
+
+
+O 
+
+
+
+
+
+Polar 
+
+
+Rectangular 
+
+
+real-part 
+
+
+real-part-polar 
+
+
+real-part- rectangular 
+
+
+imag-part 
+
+
+imag-part-polar 
+
+
+imag-part- rectangular 
+
+
+magnitude 
+
+
+magnitude-polar 
+
+
+magnitude- rectangular 
+
+
+angle 
+
+
+angle-polar 
+
+
+angle- rectangular 
+
+
+
+Figure 2.22: Table of operations for the complex-number system. 
+
+
+
+Data-directed programming is the technique of designing programs 
+to work with such a table directly. Previously, we implemented the 
+mechanism that interfaces the complex-arithmetic code with the two 
+representation packages as a set of procedures that each perform an 
+explicit dispatch on type. Here we will implement the interface as a sin- 
+gle procedure that looks up the combination of the operation name and 
+argument type in the table to find the correct procedure to apply, and 
+then applies it to the contents of the argument. If we do this, then to 
+add a new representation package to the system we need not change 
+any existing procedures; we need only add new entries to the table. 
+
+To implement this plan, assume that we have two procedures, put 
+and get, for manipulating the operation-and-type table: 
+
+• (put (op) (type) (item)) installs the (item) in the table, indexed 
+by the (op) and the (type). 
+
+• (get (op) (type)) looks up the (op), (type) entry in the table and 
+returns the item found there. If no item is found, get returns false. 
+
+For now, we can assume that put and get are included in our language. 
+In Chapter 3 (Section 3.3.3) we will see how to implement these and 
+
+
+
+244 
+
+
+
+other operations for manipulating tables. 
+
+Here is how data-directed programming can be used in the complex- 
+number system. Ben, who developed the rectangular representation, 
+implements his code just as he did originally. He defines a collection 
+of procedures, or a package, and interfaces these to the rest of the sys- 
+tem by adding entries to the table that tell the system how to operate 
+on rectangular numbers. This is accomplished by calling the following 
+procedure: 
+
+(define (install- rectangular-package) 
+;; internal procedures 
+(define (real-part z) (car z)) 
+(define (imag-part z) (cdr z)) 
+(define (make-f rom-real-imag x y) (cons x y)) 
+(define (magnitude z) 
+
+(sqrt (+ (square (real-part z)) 
+
+(square (imag-part z))))) 
+(define (angle z) 
+
+(atan (imag-part z) (real-part z))) 
+(define (make-f rom-mag-ang r a) 
+
+(cons (* r (cos a)) (* r (sin a)))) 
+
+;; interface to the rest of the system 
+
+(define (tag x) (attach-tag 'rectangular x)) 
+
+(put 'real-part '(rectangular) real-part) 
+
+(put 'imag-part '(rectangular) imag-part) 
+
+(put 'magnitude '(rectangular) magnitude) 
+
+(put 'angle '(rectangular) angle) 
+
+(put 'make-f rom-real-imag 'rectangular 
+
+(lambda (x y) (tag (make-f rom-real-imag x y)))) 
+(put 'make-f rom-mag-ang 'rectangular 
+
+(lambda (r a) (tag (make-f rom-mag-ang r a)))) 
+'done) 
+
+
+
+245 
+
+
+
+Notice that the internal procedures here are the same procedures from 
+Section 2.4.1 that Ben wrote when he was working in isolation. No 
+changes are necessary in order to interface them to the rest of the sys- 
+tem. Moreover, since these procedure definitions are internal to the in- 
+stallation procedure, Ben needn't worry about name conflicts with other 
+procedures outside the rectangular package. To interface these to the 
+rest of the system, Ben installs his real-part procedure under the op- 
+eration name real-part and the type (rectangular), and similarly for 
+the other selectors. 45 The interface also defines the constructors to be 
+used by the external system. 46 These are identical to Ben's internally 
+defined constructors, except that they attach the tag. 
+Alyssa's polar package is analogous: 
+
+(define (install-polar-package) 
+;; internal procedures 
+(define (magnitude z) (car z)) 
+(define (angle z) (cdr z)) 
+(define (make-f rom-mag-ang r a) (cons r a)) 
+(define (real-part z) (* (magnitude z) (cos (angle z)))) 
+(define (imag-part z) (* (magnitude z) (sin (angle z)))) 
+(define (make-f rom-real-imag x y) 
+
+(cons (sqrt (+ (square x) (square y))) 
+(atan y x))) 
+;; interface to the rest of the system 
+(define (tag x) (attach-tag 'polar x)) 
+(put 'real-part '(polar) real-part) 
+(put 'imag-part '(polar) imag-part) 
+(put 'magnitude '(polar) magnitude) 
+
+45 We use the list (rectangular) rather than the symbol rectangular to allow for 
+the possibility of operations with multiple arguments, not all of the same type. 
+
+46 1he type the constructors are installed under needn't be a list because a constructor 
+is always used to make an object of one particular type. 
+
+
+
+246 
+
+
+
+(put 'angle '(polar) angle) 
+(put 'make-f rom-real-imag 'polar 
+
+(lambda (x y) (tag (make-f rom-real-imag x y)))) 
+(put 'make-f rom-mag-ang 'polar 
+
+(lambda (r a) (tag (make-f rom-mag-ang r a)))) 
+'done) 
+
+Even though Ben and Alyssa both still use their original procedures 
+defined with the same names as each other's (e.g., real-part), these 
+definitions are now internal to different procedures (see Section 1.1.8), 
+so there is no name conflict. 
+
+The complex-arithmetic selectors access the table by means of a 
+general "operation" procedure called apply-generic, which applies a 
+generic operation to some arguments. Apply-generic looks in the ta- 
+ble under the name of the operation and the types of the arguments and 
+applies the resulting procedure if one is present: 47 
+
+(define (apply-generic op . args) 
+
+(let ((type-tags (map type-tag args))) 
+(let ((proc (get op type-tags))) 
+(if proc 
+
+(apply proc (map contents args)) 
+(error 
+
+47 Apply-generic uses the dotted-tail notation described in Exercise 2.20, because dif- 
+ferent generic operations may take different numbers of arguments. In apply-generic, 
+op has as its value the first argument to apply-generic and args has as its value a list 
+of the remaining arguments. 
+
+Apply-generic also uses the primitive procedure apply, which takes two arguments, 
+a procedure and a list. Apply applies the procedure, using the elements in the list as 
+arguments. For example, 
+
+(apply + (list 12 3 4)) 
+
+returns 10. 
+
+
+
+247 
+
+
+
+"No method for these types: APPLY-GENERIC" 
+(list op type-tags)))))) 
+
+Using apply-generic, we can define our generic selectors as follows: 
+
+(define (real-part z) (apply-generic 'real-part z)) 
+(define (imag-part z) (apply-generic 'imag-part z)) 
+(define (magnitude z) (apply-generic 'magnitude z)) 
+(define (angle z) (apply-generic 'angle z)) 
+
+Observe that these do not change at all if a new representation is added 
+to the system. 
+
+We can also extract from the table the constructors to be used by the 
+programs external to the packages in making complex numbers from 
+real and imaginary parts and from magnitudes and angles. As in Section 
+2.4.2, we construct rectangular numbers whenever we have real and 
+imaginary parts, and polar numbers whenever we have magnitudes and 
+angles: 
+
+(define (make-f rom-real-imag x y) 
+
+((get ' make-f rom-real-imag 'rectangular) x y)) 
+(define (make-f rom-mag-ang r a) 
+
+((get ' make-f rom-mag-ang 'polar) r a)) 
+
+Exercise 2.73: Section 2.3.2 described a program that per- 
+forms symbolic differentiation: 
+
+(define (deriv exp var) 
+(cond ((number? exp) 0) 
+((variable? exp) 
+
+(if (same-variable? exp var) 1 0)) 
+((sum? exp) 
+(make-sum (deriv (addend exp) var) 
+
+(deriv (augend exp) var))) 
+
+
+
+248 
+
+
+
+((product? exp) 
+(make-sum (make-product 
+
+(multiplier exp) 
+(deriv (multiplicand exp) var)) 
+(make-product 
+(deriv (multiplier exp) var) 
+(multiplicand exp)))) 
+(more rules can be added here) 
+(else (error "unknown expression type: 
+DERIV" exp)))) 
+
+We can regard this program as performing a dispatch on 
+the type of the expression to be differentiated. In this situ- 
+ation the "type tag" of the datum is the algebraic operator 
+symbol (such as +) and the operation being performed is 
+deriv. We can transform this program into data-directed 
+style by rewriting the basic derivative procedure as 
+
+(define (deriv exp var) 
+(cond ((number? exp) 0) 
+
+((variable? exp) (if (same-variable? exp var) 1 
+(else ((get 'deriv (operator exp)) 
+(operands exp) var)))) 
+(define (operator exp) (car exp)) 
+(define (operands exp) (cdr exp)) 
+
+a. Explain what was done above. Why can't we assim- 
+ilate the predicates number? and variable? into the 
+data-directed dispatch? 
+
+b. Write the procedures for derivatives of sums and prod- 
+ucts, and the auxiliary code required to install them in 
+the table used by the program above. 
+
+
+
+249 
+
+
+
+c. Choose any additional differentiation rule that you 
+like, such as the one for exponents (Exercise 2.56), and 
+install it in this data-directed system. 
+
+d. In this simple algebraic manipulator the type of an 
+expression is the algebraic operator that binds it to- 
+gether. Suppose, however, we indexed the procedures 
+in the opposite way, so that the dispatch line in deriv 
+looked like 
+
+((get (operator exp) 'deriv) (operands exp) var) 
+
+What corresponding changes to the derivative system 
+are required? 
+
+Exercise 2.74: Insatiable Enterprises, Inc., is a highly de- 
+centralized conglomerate company consisting of a large num- 
+ber of independent divisions located all over the world. The 
+company's computer facilities have just been interconnected 
+by means of a clever network- interfacing scheme that makes 
+the entire network appear to any user to be a single com- 
+puter. Insatiable's president, in her first attempt to exploit 
+the ability of the network to extract administrative infor- 
+mation from division files, is dismayed to discover that, al- 
+though all the division files have been implemented as data 
+structures in Scheme, the particular data structure used varies 
+from division to division. A meeting of division managers 
+is hastily called to search for a strategy to integrate the files 
+that will satisfy headquarters' needs while preserving the 
+existing autonomy of the divisions. 
+
+Show how such a strategy can be implemented with data- 
+directed programming. As an example, suppose that each 
+
+
+
+250 
+
+
+
+division's personnel records consist of a single file, which 
+contains a set of records keyed on employees' names. The 
+structure of the set varies from division to division. Fur- 
+thermore, each employee's record is itself a set (structured 
+differently from division to division) that contains informa- 
+tion keyed under identifiers such as address and salary. 
+In particular: 
+
+a. Implement for headquarters a get- record procedure 
+that retrieves a specified employee's record from a 
+specified personnel file. The procedure should be ap- 
+plicable to any division's file. Explain how the individ- 
+ual divisions' files should be structured. In particular, 
+what type information must be supplied? 
+
+b. Implement for headquarters a get-salary procedure 
+that returns the salary information from a given em- 
+ployee's record from any division's personnel file. How 
+should the record be structured in order to make this 
+operation work? 
+
+c. Implement for headquarters a find-employee-record 
+procedure. This should search all the divisions' files 
+for the record of a given employee and return the record. 
+Assume that this procedure takes as arguments an 
+employee's name and a list of all the divisions' files. 
+
+d. When Insatiable takes over a new company, what changes 
+must be made in order to incorporate the new person- 
+nel information into the central system? 
+
+
+
+251 
+
+
+
+Message passing 
+
+The key idea of data-directed programming is to handle generic opera- 
+tions in programs by dealing explicitly with operation-and-type tables, 
+such as the table in Figure 2.22. The style of programming we used in 
+Section 2.4.2 organized the required dispatching on type by having each 
+operation take care of its own dispatching. In effect, this decomposes the 
+operation-and-type table into rows, with each generic operation proce- 
+dure representing a row of the table. 
+
+An alternative implementation strategy is to decompose the table 
+into columns and, instead of using "intelligent operations" that dispatch 
+on data types, to work with "intelligent data objects" that dispatch on 
+operation names. We can do this by arranging things so that a data 
+object, such as a rectangular number, is represented as a procedure that 
+takes as input the required operation name and performs the operation 
+indicated. In such a discipline, make-f rom-real-imag could be written 
+as 
+
+(define (make-f rom-real-imag x y) 
+(define (dispatch op) 
+
+(cond ((eq? op 'real-part) x) 
+((eq? op 'imag-part) y) 
+
+((eq? op 'magnitude) (sqrt (+ (square x) (square y)))) 
+((eq? op 'angle) (atan y x)) 
+
+(else (error "Unknown op: MAKE-FROM-REAL-IMAG" op)))) 
+dispatch) 
+
+The corresponding apply-generic procedure, which applies a generic 
+operation to an argument, now simply feeds the operation's name to 
+the data object and lets the object do the work: 48 
+
+48 One limitation of this organization is it permits only generic procedures of one 
+argument. 
+
+
+
+252 
+
+
+
+(define (apply-generic op arg) (arg op)) 
+
+Note that the value returned by make-f rom-real-imag is a procedure— 
+the internal dispatch procedure. This is the procedure that is invoked 
+when apply-generic requests an operation to be performed. 
+
+This style of programming is called message passing. The name comes 
+from the image that a data object is an entity that receives the requested 
+operation name as a "message." We have already seen an example of 
+message passing in Section 2.1.3, where we saw how cons, car, and cdr 
+could be defined with no data objects but only procedures. Here we see 
+that message passing is not a mathematical trick but a useful technique 
+for organizing systems with generic operations. In the remainder of this 
+chapter we will continue to use data-directed programming, rather than 
+message passing, to discuss generic arithmetic operations. In Chapter 3 
+we will return to message passing, and we will see that it can be a pow- 
+erful tool for structuring simulation programs. 
+
+Exercise 2.75: Implement the constructor make-f rom-mag- 
+ang in message-passing style. This procedure should be anal- 
+ogous to the make-f rom-real-imag procedure given above. 
+
+Exercise 2.76: As a large system with generic operations 
+evolves, new types of data objects or new operations may 
+be needed. For each of the three strategies— generic opera- 
+tions with explicit dispatch, data-directed style, and message- 
+passing-style— describe the changes that must be made to a 
+system in order to add new types or new operations. Which 
+organization would be most appropriate for a system in 
+which new types must often be added? Which would be 
+most appropriate for a system in which new operations 
+must often be added? 
+
+
+
+253 
+
+
+
+2.5 Systems with Generic Operations 
+
+
+
+In the previous section, we saw how to design systems in which data 
+objects can be represented in more than one way. The key idea is to 
+link the code that specifies the data operations to the several represen- 
+tations by means of generic interface procedures. Now we will see how 
+to use this same idea not only to define operations that are generic over 
+different representations but also to define operations that are generic 
+over different kinds of arguments. We have already seen several dif- 
+ferent packages of arithmetic operations: the primitive arithmetic (+, -, 
+*, /) built into our language, the rational-number arithmetic (add-rat, 
+sub-rat, mul-rat, div-rat) of Section 2.1.1, and the complex-number 
+arithmetic that we implemented in Section 2.4.3. We will now use data- 
+directed techniques to construct a package of arithmetic operations that 
+incorporates all the arithmetic packages we have already constructed. 
+
+Figure 2.23 shows the structure of the system we shall build. Notice 
+the abstraction barriers. From the perspective of someone using "num- 
+bers," there is a single procedure add that operates on whatever num- 
+bers are supplied. Add is part of a generic interface that allows the sep- 
+arate ordinary-arithmetic, rational- arithmetic, and complex-arithmetic 
+packages to be accessed uniformly by programs that use numbers. Any 
+individual arithmetic package (such as the complex package) may it- 
+self be accessed through generic procedures (such as add-complex) that 
+combine packages designed for different representations (such as rect- 
+angular and polar). Moreover, the structure of the system is additive, so 
+that one can design the individual arithmetic packages separately and 
+combine them to produce a generic arithmetic system. 
+
+
+
+254 
+
+
+
+Programs that use numbers 
+
+
+
+
+
+add sub mul div 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+add-rat sub-rat 
+mul-rat div-rat 
+
+
+
+Rational 
+arithmetic 
+
+
+
+Generic arithmetic package 
+
+
+
+add-complex sub-complex 
+mul-complex div-complex 
+
+
+
+Complex arithmetic 
+
+
+
+Rectangular 
+
+
+
+Polar 
+
+
+
+Ordinary 
+arithmetic 
+
+
+
+List structure and primitive machine arithmetic 
+Figure 2.23: Generic arithmetic system. 
+
+
+
+2.5.1 Generic Arithmetic Operations 
+
+The task of designing generic arithmetic operations is analogous to that 
+of designing the generic complex-number operations. We would like, 
+for instance, to have a generic addition procedure add that acts like or- 
+dinary primitive addition + on ordinary numbers, like add-rat on ra- 
+tional numbers, and like add-complex on complex numbers. We can 
+implement add, and the other generic arithmetic operations, by follow- 
+ing the same strategy we used in Section 2.4.3 to implement the generic 
+selectors for complex numbers. We will attach a type tag to each kind of 
+number and cause the generic procedure to dispatch to an appropriate 
+package according to the data type of its arguments. 
+
+The generic arithmetic procedures are defined as follows: 
+
+(define (add x y) (apply-generic 'add x y)) 
+
+
+
+255 
+
+
+
+(define (sub x y) (apply-generic 'sub x y)) 
+(define (mul x y) (apply-generic 'mul x y)) 
+(define (div x y) (apply-generic 'div x y)) 
+
+We begin by installing a package for handling ordinary numbers, that 
+is, the primitive numbers of our language. We will tag these with the 
+symbol scheme-number. The arithmetic operations in this package are 
+the primitive arithmetic procedures (so there is no need to define extra 
+procedures to handle the untagged numbers). Since these operations 
+each take two arguments, they are installed in the table keyed by the 
+list (scheme-number scheme-number): 
+
+(define (install-scheme-number-package) 
+
+(define (tag x) (attach-tag 'scheme-number x)) 
+(put 'add '(scheme-number scheme-number) 
+
+(lambda (x y) (tag (+ x y)))) 
+(put 'sub '(scheme-number scheme-number) 
+
+(lambda (x y) (tag (- x y)))) 
+(put 'mul '(scheme-number scheme-number) 
+
+(lambda (x y) (tag (* x y)))) 
+(put 'div '(scheme-number scheme-number) 
+
+(lambda (x y) (tag (/ x y)))) 
+(put 'make 'scheme-number (lambda (x) (tag x))) 
+'done) 
+
+Users of the Scheme-number package will create (tagged) ordinary num- 
+bers by means of the procedure: 
+
+(define (make-scheme-number n) 
+((get 'make 'scheme-number) n)) 
+
+Now that the framework of the generic arithmetic system is in place, 
+we can readily include new kinds of numbers. Here is a package that 
+performs rational arithmetic. Notice that, as a benefit of additivity, we 
+
+
+
+256 
+
+
+
+can use without modification the rational-number code from Section 
+2.1.1 as the internal procedures in the package: 
+
+(define (install- rational -package) 
+;; internal procedures 
+(define (numer x) (car x)) 
+(define (denom x) (cdr x)) 
+(define (make-rat n d) 
+(let ((g (gcd n d))) 
+
+(cons (/ n g) (/ d g)))) 
+(define (add-rat x y) 
+
+(make-rat (+ (* (numer x) (denom y)) 
+(* (numer y) (denom x))) 
+(* (denom x) (denom y)))) 
+(define (sub-rat x y) 
+
+(make-rat (- (* (numer x) (denom y)) 
+(* (numer y) (denom x))) 
+(* (denom x) (denom y)))) 
+(define (mul-rat x y) 
+
+(make-rat (* (numer x) (numer y)) 
+
+(* (denom x) (denom y)))) 
+(define (div-rat x y) 
+
+(make-rat (* (numer x) (denom y)) 
+
+(* (denom x) (numer y)))) 
+;; interface to rest of the system 
+(define (tag x) (attach-tag 'rational x)) 
+(put 'add '(rational rational) 
+
+(lambda (x y) (tag (add-rat x y)))) 
+(put 'sub '(rational rational) 
+
+(lambda (x y) (tag (sub-rat x y)))) 
+(put 'mul '(rational rational) 
+
+(lambda (x y) (tag (mul-rat x y)))) 
+(put 'div '(rational rational) 
+
+(lambda (x y) (tag (div-rat x y)))) 
+
+
+
+257 
+
+
+
+(put 'make 'rational 
+
+(lambda (n d) (tag (make-rat n d)))) 
+'done) 
+
+(define (make-rational n d) 
+((get 'make 'rational) n d)) 
+
+We can install a similar package to handle complex numbers, using the 
+tag complex. In creating the package, we extract from the table the op- 
+erations make-f rom-real-imag and make-f rom-mag-ang that were de- 
+fined by the rectangular and polar packages. Additivity permits us to 
+use, as the internal operations, the same add-complex, sub-complex, 
+mul-complex, and div-complex procedures from Section 2.4.1. 
+
+(define (install-complex-package) 
+
+;; imported procedures from rectangular and polar packages 
+(define (make-f rom-real-imag x y) 
+
+((get 'make-f rom-real-imag 'rectangular) x y)) 
+(define (make-f rom-mag-ang r a) 
+
+((get 'make-f rom-mag-ang 'polar) r a)) 
+;; internal procedures 
+(define (add-complex zl z2) 
+
+(make-f rom-real-imag (+ (real-part z1) (real-part z2)) 
+
+
+
+(+ (imag-part z1) (imag-part z 
+
+
+
+z2)))) 
+
+
+
+(define (sub-complex z1 z2) 
+
+(make-f rom-real-imag (- (real-part z1) (real-part z 
+
+
+
+z2)) 
+z2)))) 
+
+
+
+(- (imag-part z1) (imag-part z 
+
+
+
+(define (mul-complex zl z2) 
+
+(make-f rom-mag-ang (* (magnitude z1) (magnitude z2)) 
+
+
+
+(+ (angle z1) (angle z2)))) 
+
+
+
+(define (div-complex zl z2) 
+
+(make-f rom-mag-ang (/ (magnitude z1) (magnitude z2)) 
+
+
+
+(- (angle z1) (angle z2)))) 
+
+
+
+;; interface to rest of the system 
+
+
+
+(define (tag z) (attach-tag 'complex z)) 
+
+
+
+258 
+
+
+
+(put 'add '(complex complex) 
+
+(lambda (zl z2) (tag (add-complex z1 z2)))) 
+(put 'sub '(complex complex) 
+
+(lambda (z1 z2) (tag (sub-complex z1 z2)))) 
+(put 'mul '(complex complex) 
+
+(lambda (zl z2) (tag (mul-complex zl z2)))) 
+(put 'div '(complex complex) 
+
+(lambda (zl z2) (tag (div-complex zl z2)))) 
+(put 'make-f rom-real-imag 'complex 
+
+(lambda (x y) (tag (make-f rom-real-imag x y)))) 
+(put 'make-f rom-mag-ang 'complex 
+
+(lambda (r a) (tag (make-f rom-mag-ang r a)))) 
+'done) 
+
+Programs outside the complex-number package can construct complex 
+numbers either from real and imaginary parts or from magnitudes and 
+angles. Notice how the underlying procedures, originally defined in the 
+rectangular and polar packages, are exported to the complex package, 
+and exported from there to the outside world. 
+
+(define (make-complex-f rom-real-imag x y) 
+
+((get ' make-f rom-real-imag 'complex) x y)) 
+
+(define (make-complex-f rom-mag-ang r a) 
+
+((get ' make-f rom-mag-ang 'complex) r a)) 
+
+What we have here is a two-level tag system. A typical complex num- 
+ber, such as 3 + 4/ in rectangular form, would be represented as shown 
+in Figure 2.24. The outer tag (complex) is used to direct the number to 
+the complex package. Once within the complex package, the next tag 
+(rectangular) is used to direct the number to the rectangular package. 
+In a large and complicated system there might be many levels, each in- 
+terfaced with the next by means of generic operations. As a data object 
+is passed "downward," the outer tag that is used to direct it to the ap- 
+
+
+
+259 
+
+
+
+complex rectangular 3 4 
+
+
+
+Figure 2.24: Representation of 3 + 4/ in rectangular form. 
+
+
+
+propriate package is stripped off (by applying contents) and the next 
+level of tag (if any) becomes visible to be used for further dispatching. 
+
+In the above packages, we used add- rat, add-complex, and the other 
+arithmetic procedures exactly as originally written. Once these defini- 
+tions are internal to different installation procedures, however, they no 
+longer need names that are distinct from each other: we could simply 
+name them add, sub, mul, and div in both packages. 
+
+Exercise 2.77: Louis Reasoner tries to evaluate the expres- 
+sion (magnitude z) where z is the object shown in Figure 
+2.24. To his surprise, instead of the answer 5 he gets an error 
+message from apply-generic, saying there is no method 
+for the operation magnitude on the types (complex). He 
+shows this interaction to Alyssa P. Hacker, who says "The 
+problem is that the complex-number selectors were never 
+definedfor complex numbers, just for polar and rectangular 
+numbers. All you have to do to make this work is add the 
+following to the complex package:" 
+
+(put 'real-part '(complex) real-part) 
+
+(put 'imag-part '(complex) imag-part) 
+
+(put 'magnitude '(complex) magnitude) 
+
+(put 'angle '(complex) angle) 
+
+
+
+260 
+
+
+
+Describe in detail why this works. As an example, trace 
+through all the procedures called in evaluating the expres- 
+sion (magnitude z) where z is the object shown in Figure 
+2.24. In particular, how many times is apply-generic in- 
+voked? What procedure is dispatched to in each case? 
+
+Exercise 2.78: The internal procedures in the scheme -number 
+package are essentially nothing more than calls to the prim- 
+itive procedures +, -, etc. It was not possible to use the prim- 
+itives of the language directly because our type-tag system 
+requires that each data object have a type attached to it. In 
+fact, however, all Lisp implementations do have a type sys- 
+tem, which they use internally. Primitive predicates such 
+as symbol? and number? determine whether data objects 
+have particular types. Modify the definitions of type-tag, 
+contents, and attach-tag from Section 2.4.2 so that our 
+generic system takes advantage of Scheme's internal type 
+system. That is to say, the system should work as before ex- 
+cept that ordinary numbers should be represented simply 
+as Scheme numbers rather than as pairs whose car is the 
+symbol scheme-number. 
+
+Exercise 2.79: Define a generic equality predicate equ? that 
+tests the equality of two numbers, and install it in the generic 
+arithmetic package. This operation should work for ordi- 
+nary numbers, rational numbers, and complex numbers. 
+
+Exercise 2.80: Define a generic predicate =zero? that tests 
+if its argument is zero, and install it in the generic arith- 
+metic package. This operation should work for ordinary 
+numbers, rational numbers, and complex numbers. 
+
+
+
+261 
+
+
+
+2.5.2 Combining Data of Different Types 
+
+We have seen how to define a unified arithmetic system that encom- 
+passes ordinary numbers, complex numbers, rational numbers, and any 
+other type of number we might decide to invent, but we have ignored an 
+important issue. The operations we have defined so far treat the differ- 
+ent data types as being completely independent. Thus, there are separate 
+packages for adding, say, two ordinary numbers, or two complex num- 
+bers. What we have not yet considered is the fact that it is meaningful to 
+define operations that cross the type boundaries, such as the addition of 
+a complex number to an ordinary number. We have gone to great pains 
+to introduce barriers between parts of our programs so that they can be 
+developed and understood separately. We would like to introduce the 
+cross-type operations in some carefully controlled way, so that we can 
+support them without seriously violating our module boundaries. 
+
+One way to handle cross-type operations is to design a different pro- 
+cedure for each possible combination of types for which the operation 
+is valid. For example, we could extend the complex-number package so 
+that it provides a procedure for adding complex numbers to ordinary 
+numbers and installs this in the table using the tag (complex scheme- 
+number): 49 
+
+;; to be included in the complex package 
+(define (add-complex-to-schemenum z x) 
+
+(make-f rom-real-imag (+ (real-part z) x) (imag-part z))) 
+(put 'add '(complex scheme-number) 
+
+(lambda (z x) (tag (add-complex-to-schemenum z x)))) 
+
+This technique works, but it is cumbersome. With such a system, the 
+cost of introducing a new type is not just the construction of the pack- 
+
+49 We also have to supply an almost identical procedure to handle the types (scheme- 
+number complex). 
+
+
+
+262 
+
+
+
+age of procedures for that type but also the construction and installa- 
+tion of the procedures that implement the cross-type operations. This 
+can easily be much more code than is needed to define the operations 
+on the type itself. The method also undermines our ability to combine 
+separate packages additively, or at least to limit the extent to which the 
+implementors of the individual packages need to take account of other 
+packages. For instance, in the example above, it seems reasonable that 
+handling mixed operations on complex numbers and ordinary numbers 
+should be the responsibility of the complex-number package. Combin- 
+ing rational numbers and complex numbers, however, might be done by 
+the complex package, by the rational package, or by some third package 
+that uses operations extracted from these two packages. Formulating 
+coherent policies on the division of responsibility among packages can 
+be an overwhelming task in designing systems with many packages and 
+many cross-type operations. 
+
+Coercion 
+
+In the general situation of completely unrelated operations acting on 
+completely unrelated types, implementing explicit cross-type operations, 
+cumbersome though it may be, is the best that one can hope for. For- 
+tunately, we can usually do better by taking advantage of additional 
+structure that may be latent in our type system. Often the different data 
+types are not completely independent, and there may be ways by which 
+objects of one type may be viewed as being of another type. This process 
+is called coercion. For example, if we are asked to arithmetically combine 
+an ordinary number with a complex number, we can view the ordinary 
+number as a complex number whose imaginary part is zero. This trans- 
+forms the problem to that of combining two complex numbers, which 
+can be handled in the ordinary way by the complex-arithmetic package. 
+
+
+
+263 
+
+
+
+In general, we can implement this idea by designing coercion pro- 
+cedures that transform an object of one type into an equivalent object 
+of another type. Here is a typical coercion procedure, which transforms 
+a given ordinary number to a complex number with that real part and 
+zero imaginary part: 
+
+(define (scheme-number->complex n) 
+
+(make-complex-f rom-real-imag (contents n) 0)) 
+
+We install these coercion procedures in a special coercion table, indexed 
+under the names of the two types: 
+
+(put-coercion 'scheme-number 
+' complex 
+
+scheme-number->complex) 
+
+(We assume that there are put-coercion and get-coercion procedures 
+available for manipulating this table.) Generally some of the slots in the 
+table will be empty, because it is not generally possible to coerce an ar- 
+bitrary data object of each type into all other types. For example, there 
+is no way to coerce an arbitrary complex number to an ordinary num- 
+ber, so there will be no general complex->scheme-number procedure 
+included in the table. 
+
+Once the coercion table has been set up, we can handle coercion 
+in a uniform manner by modifying the apply-generic procedure of 
+Section 2.4.3. When asked to apply an operation, we first check whether 
+the operation is denned for the arguments' types, just as before. If so, 
+we dispatch to the procedure found in the operation-and-type table. 
+Otherwise, we try coercion. For simplicity, we consider only the case 
+where there are two arguments. 50 We check the coercion table to see 
+if objects of the first type can be coerced to the second type. If so, we 
+
+50 See Exercise 2.82 for generalizations. 
+
+
+
+264 
+
+
+
+coerce the first argument and try the operation again. If objects of the 
+first type cannot in general be coerced to the second type, we try the 
+coercion the other way around to see if there is a way to coerce the 
+second argument to the type of the first argument. Finally, if there is no 
+known way to coerce either type to the other type, we give up. Here is 
+the procedure: 
+
+(define (apply-generic op . args) 
+
+(let ((type-tags (map type-tag args))) 
+(let ((proc (get op type-tags))) 
+(if proc 
+
+(apply proc (map contents args)) 
+(if (= (length args) 2) 
+
+(let ((typel (car type-tags)) 
+(type2 (cadr type-tags)) 
+(a1 (car args)) 
+(a2 (cadr args))) 
+(let ((t1->t2 (get-coercion typel type2)) 
+(t2->t1 (get-coercion type2 typel))) 
+(cond (t1->t2 
+
+(apply-generic op (t1->t2 a1) a2)) 
+(t2->t1 
+
+(apply-generic op a1 (t2->t1 a2))) 
+(else (error "No method for these types" 
+(list op type-tags)))))) 
+(error "No method for these types" 
+(list op type-tags))))))) 
+
+This coercion scheme has many advantages over the method of defining 
+explicit cross-type operations, as outlined above. Although we still need 
+to write coercion procedures to relate the types (possibly n 2 procedures 
+for a system with n types), we need to write only one procedure for 
+each pair of types rather than a different procedure for each collection 
+
+
+
+265 
+
+
+
+of types and each generic operation. 51 What we are counting on here 
+is the fact that the appropriate transformation between types depends 
+only on the types themselves, not on the operation to be applied. 
+
+On the other hand, there may be applications for which our coer- 
+cion scheme is not general enough. Even when neither of the objects to 
+be combined can be converted to the type of the other it may still be 
+possible to perform the operation by converting both objects to a third 
+type. In order to deal with such complexity and still preserve modular- 
+ity in our programs, it is usually necessary to build systems that take 
+advantage of still further structure in the relations among types, as we 
+discuss next. 
+
+Hierarchies of types 
+
+The coercion scheme presented above relied on the existence of natural 
+relations between pairs of types. Often there is more "global" structure 
+in how the different types relate to each other. For instance, suppose 
+we are building a generic arithmetic system to handle integers, rational 
+numbers, real numbers, and complex numbers. In such a system, it is 
+quite natural to regard an integer as a special kind of rational number, 
+which is in turn a special kind of real number, which is in turn a special 
+kind of complex number. What we actually have is a so-called hierarchy 
+of types, in which, for example, integers are a subtype of rational num- 
+
+51 If we are clever, we can usually get by with fewer than n 2 coercion procedures. 
+For instance, if we know how to convert from type 1 to type 2 and from type 2 to 
+type 3, then we can use this knowledge to convert from type 1 to type 3. This can 
+greatly decrease the number of coercion procedures we need to supply explicitly when 
+we add a new type to the system. If we are willing to build the required amount of 
+sophistication into our system, we can have it search the "graph" of relations among 
+types and automatically generate those coercion procedures that can be inferred from 
+the ones that are supplied explicitly. 
+
+
+
+266 
+
+
+
+complex 
+
+I 
+
+real 
+
+I 
+
+rational 
+
+I 
+
+integer 
+
+Figure 2.25: A tower of types. 
+
+bers (i.e., any operation that can be applied to a rational number can 
+automatically be applied to an integer). Conversely we say that ratio- 
+nal numbers form a supertype of integers. The particular hierarchy we 
+have here is of a very simple kind, in which each type has at most one 
+supertype and at most one subtype. Such a structure, called a tower, is 
+illustrated in Figure 2.25. 
+
+If we have a tower structure, then we can greatly simplify the prob- 
+lem of adding a new type to the hierarchy, for we need only specify 
+how the new type is embedded in the next supertype above it and how 
+it is the supertype of the type below it. For example, if we want to add 
+an integer to a complex number, we need not explicitly define a special 
+coercion procedure integer->complex. Instead, we define how an inte- 
+ger can be transformed into a rational number, how a rational number is 
+transformed into a real number, and how a real number is transformed 
+into a complex number. We then allow the system to transform the in- 
+teger into a complex number through these steps and then add the two 
+complex numbers. 
+
+We can redesign our apply-generic procedure in the following 
+way: For each type, we need to supply a r a i se procedure, which "raises" 
+
+
+
+267 
+
+
+
+objects of that type one level in the tower. Then when the system is re- 
+quired to operate on objects of different types it can successively raise 
+the lower types until all the objects are at the same level in the tower. 
+(Exercise 2.83 and Exercise 2.84 concern the details of implementing 
+such a strategy.) 
+
+Another advantage of a tower is that we can easily implement the 
+notion that every type "inherits" all operations defined on a supertype. 
+For instance, if we do not supply a special procedure for finding the real 
+part of an integer, we should nevertheless expect that real-part will 
+be defined for integers by virtue of the fact that integers are a subtype 
+of complex numbers. In a tower, we can arrange for this to happen in a 
+uniform way by modifying apply-generic. If the required operation is 
+not directly defined for the type of the object given, we raise the object 
+to its supertype and try again. We thus crawl up the tower, transforming 
+our argument as we go, until we either find a level at which the desired 
+operation can be performed or hit the top (in which case we give up). 
+
+Yet another advantage of a tower over a more general hierarchy is 
+that it gives us a simple way to "lower" a data object to the simplest 
+representation. For example, if we add 2 + 3i to 4 - 3i, it would be nice 
+to obtain the answer as the integer 6 rather than as the complex num- 
+ber 6 + Oi. Exercise 2.85 discusses a way to implement such a lowering 
+operation. (The trick is that we need a general way to distinguish those 
+objects that can be lowered, such as 6 + Oi, from those that cannot, such 
+as 6 + 2i.) 
+
+Inadequacies of hierarchies 
+
+If the data types in our system can be naturally arranged in a tower, 
+this greatly simplifies the problems of dealing with generic operations 
+on different types, as we have seen. Unfortunately, this is usually not the 
+case. Figure 2.26 illustrates a more complex arrangement of mixed types, 
+
+268 
+
+
+
+polygon 
+
+
+
+
+Figure 2.26: Relations among types of geometric figures. 
+
+
+
+this one showing relations among different types of geometric figures. 
+We see that, in general, a type may have more than one subtype. Tri- 
+angles and quadrilaterals, for instance, are both subtypes of polygons. 
+In addition, a type may have more than one supertype. For example, 
+an isosceles right triangle may be regarded either as an isosceles trian- 
+gle or as a right triangle. This multiple-supertypes issue is particularly 
+thorny, since it means that there is no unique way to "raise" a type in the 
+hierarchy. Finding the "correct" supertype in which to apply an opera- 
+tion to an object may involve considerable searching through the entire 
+type network on the part of a procedure such as apply-generic. Since 
+there generally are multiple subtypes for a type, there is a similar prob- 
+lem in coercing a value "down" the type hierarchy. Dealing with large 
+numbers of interrelated types while still preserving modularity in the 
+
+
+
+269 
+
+
+
+design of large systems is very difficult, and is an area of much current 
+research. 52 
+
+
+
+Exercise 2.8T : Louis Reasoner has noticed that apply-generic 
+may try to coerce the arguments to each other's type even 
+if they already have the same type. Therefore, he reasons, 
+we need to put procedures in the coercion table to coerce 
+arguments of each type to their own type. For example, in 
+addition to the scheme-number->complex coercion shown 
+above, he would do: 
+
+(define (scheme-number->scheme-number n) n) 
+(define (complex->complex z) z) 
+(put-coercion 'scheme-number 
+' scheme-number 
+
+scheme-number->scheme-number) 
+(put-coercion 'complex 'complex complex->complex) 
+
+
+
+52 This statement, which also appears in the first edition of this book, is just as true 
+now as it was when we wrote it twelve years ago. Developing a useful, general frame- 
+work for expressing the relations among different types of entities (what philosophers 
+call "ontology") seems intractably difficult. The main difference between the confu- 
+sion that existed ten years ago and the confusion that exists now is that now a va- 
+riety of inadequate ontological theories have been embodied in a plethora of corre- 
+spondingly inadequate programming languages. For example, much of the complexity 
+of object-oriented programming languages— and the subtle and confusing differences 
+among contemporary object-oriented languages— centers on the treatment of generic 
+operations on interrelated types. Our own discussion of computational objects in Chap- 
+ter 3 avoids these issues entirely. Readers familiar with object-oriented programming 
+will notice that we have much to say in chapter 3 about local state, but we do not even 
+mention "classes" or "inheritance." In fact, we suspect that these problems cannot be ad- 
+equately addressed in terms of computer-language design alone, without also drawing 
+on work in knowledge representation and automated reasoning. 
+
+
+
+270 
+
+
+
+a. With Louis's coercion procedures installed, what hap- 
+pens if apply-generic is called with two arguments 
+
+of type scheme-number or two arguments of type complex 
+for an operation that is not found in the table for those 
+types? For example, assume that we've defined a generic 
+exponentiation operation: 
+
+(define (exp x y) (apply-generic 'exp x y)) 
+
+and have put a procedure for exponentiation in the 
+Scheme-number package but not in any other pack- 
+age: 
+
+;; following added to Scheme-number package 
+(put 'exp '(scheme-number scheme-number) 
+
+(lambda (x y) (tag (expt x y)))) 
+
+; using primitive expt 
+
+What happens if we call exp with two complex num- 
+bers as arguments? 
+
+b. Is Louis correct that something had to be done about 
+coercion with arguments of the same type, or does 
+apply-generic work correctly as is? 
+
+c. Modify apply-generic so that it doesn't try coercion 
+if the two arguments have the same type. 
+
+Exercise 2.82: Show how to generalize apply-generic to 
+handle coercion in the general case of multiple arguments. 
+One strategy is to attempt to coerce all the arguments to 
+the type of the first argument, then to the type of the sec- 
+ond argument, and so on. Give an example of a situation 
+
+
+
+271 
+
+
+
+where this strategy (and likewise the two-argument ver- 
+sion given above) is not sufficiently general. (Hint: Con- 
+sider the case where there are some suitable mixed-type 
+operations present in the table that will not be tried.) 
+
+Exercise 2.83: Suppose you are designing a generic arith- 
+metic system for dealing with the tower of types shown in 
+Figure 2.25: integer, rational, real, complex. For each type 
+(except complex), design a procedure that raises objects of 
+that type one level in the tower. Show how to install a 
+generic raise operation that will work for each type (ex- 
+cept complex). 
+
+Exercise 2.84: Using the raise operation of Exercise 2.83, 
+modify the apply-generic procedure so that it coerces its 
+arguments to have the same type by the method of succes- 
+sive raising, as discussed in this section. You will need to 
+devise a way to test which of two types is higher in the 
+tower. Do this in a manner that is "compatible" with the 
+rest of the system and will not lead to problems in adding 
+new levels to the tower. 
+
+Exercise 2.85: This section mentioned a method for "sim- 
+plifying" a data object by lowering it in the tower of types 
+as far as possible. Design a procedure drop that accom- 
+plishes this for the tower described in Exercise 2.83. The 
+key is to decide, in some general way, whether an object 
+can be lowered. For example, the complex number 1.5 + Oi 
+can be lowered as far as real, the complex number 1 + Oi 
+can be lowered as far as integer, and the complex number 
+
+
+
+272 
+
+
+
+2 + 3/ cannot be lowered at all. Here is a plan for determin- 
+ing whether an object can be lowered: Begin by defining 
+a generic operation project that "pushes" an object down 
+in the tower. For example, projecting a complex number 
+would involve throwing away the imaginary part. Then a 
+number can be dropped if, when we project it and raise 
+the result back to the type we started with, we end up with 
+something equal to what we started with. Show how to im- 
+plement this idea in detail, by writing a d rop procedure that 
+drops an object as far as possible. You will need to design 
+the various projection operations 53 and install project as a 
+generic operation in the system. You will also need to make 
+use of a generic equality predicate, such as described in 
+Exercise 2.79. Finally, use drop to rewrite apply-generic 
+from Exercise 2.84 so that it "simplifies" its answers. 
+
+Exercise 2.86: Suppose we want to handle complex num- 
+bers whose real parts, imaginary parts, magnitudes, and an- 
+gles can be either ordinary numbers, rational numbers, or 
+other numbers we might wish to add to the system. De- 
+scribe and implement the changes to the system needed to 
+accommodate this. You will have to define operations such 
+as sine and cosine that are generic over ordinary numbers 
+and rational numbers. 
+
+
+
+A real number can be projected to an integer using the round primitive, which 
+returns the closest integer to its argument. 
+
+
+
+273 
+
+
+
+2.5.3 Example: Symbolic Algebra 
+
+The manipulation of symbolic algebraic expressions is a complex pro- 
+cess that illustrates many of the hardest problems that occur in the de- 
+sign of large-scale systems. An algebraic expression, in general, can 
+be viewed as a hierarchical structure, a tree of operators applied to 
+operands. We can construct algebraic expressions by starting with a 
+set of primitive objects, such as constants and variables, and combining 
+these by means of algebraic operators, such as addition and multipli- 
+cation. As in other languages, we form abstractions that enable us to 
+refer to compound objects in simple terms. Typical abstractions in sym- 
+bolic algebra are ideas such as linear combination, polynomial, rational 
+function, or trigonometric function. We can regard these as compound 
+"types," which are often useful for directing the processing of expres- 
+sions. For example, we could describe the expression 
+
+x 2 sin(y 2 + 1) + x cos 2y + cos(y 3 - 2y 2 ) 
+
+as a polynomial in x with coefficients that are trigonometric functions 
+of polynomials in y whose coefficients are integers. 
+
+We will not attempt to develop a complete algebraic-manipulation 
+system here. Such systems are exceedingly complex programs, embody- 
+ing deep algebraic knowledge and elegant algorithms. What we will do 
+is look at a simple but important part of algebraic manipulation: the 
+arithmetic of polynomials. We will illustrate the kinds of decisions the 
+designer of such a system faces, and how to apply the ideas of abstract 
+data and generic operations to help organize this effort. 
+
+Arithmetic on polynomials 
+
+Our first task in designing a system for performing arithmetic on poly- 
+nomials is to decide just what a polynomial is. Polynomials are normally 
+
+
+
+274 
+
+
+
+defined relative to certain variables (the indeterminates of the polyno- 
+mial). For simplicity, we will restrict ourselves to polynomials having 
+just one indeterminate (univariate polynomials). 54 We will define a poly- 
+nomial to be a sum of terms, each of which is either a coefficient, a 
+power of the indeterminate, or a product of a coefficient and a power 
+of the indeterminate. A coefficient is defined as an algebraic expression 
+that is not dependent upon the indeterminate of the polynomial. For 
+example, 
+
+5x 2 + 3x + 7 
+is a simple polynomial in x, and 
+
+(y 2 + l)x 3 + (2y)x + 1 
+
+is a polynomial in x whose coefficients are polynomials in y. 
+
+Already we are skirting some thorny issues. Is the first of these poly- 
+nomials the same as the polynomial 5y 2 + 3y + 7, or not? A reasonable 
+answer might be "yes, if we are considering a polynomial purely as a 
+mathematical function, but no, if we are considering a polynomial to 
+be a syntactic form." The second polynomial is algebraically equivalent 
+to a polynomial in y whose coefficients are polynomials in x. Should 
+our system recognize this, or not? Furthermore, there are other ways to 
+represent a polynomial— for example, as a product of factors, or (for a 
+univariate polynomial) as the set of roots, or as a listing of the values of 
+the polynomial at a specified set of points. 55 We can finesse these ques- 
+
+54 On the other hand, we will allow polynomials whose coefficients are themselves 
+polynomials in other variables. This will give us essentially the same representational 
+power as a full multivariate system, although it does lead to coercion problems, as 
+discussed below. 
+
+55 For univariate polynomials, giving the value of a polynomial at a given set of points 
+can be a particularly good representation. This makes polynomial arithmetic extremely 
+
+
+
+275 
+
+
+
+tions by deciding that in our algebraic-manipulation system a "polyno- 
+mial" will be a particular syntactic form, not its underlying mathemat- 
+ical meaning. 
+
+Now we must consider how to go about doing arithmetic on polyno- 
+mials. In this simple system, we will consider only addition and multi- 
+plication. Moreover, we will insist that two polynomials to be combined 
+must have the same indeterminate. 
+
+We will approach the design of our system by following the familiar 
+discipline of data abstraction. We will represent polynomials using a 
+data structure called a poly, which consists of a variable and a collection 
+of terms. We assume that we have selectors variable and term-list 
+that extract those parts from a poly and a constructor make-poly that 
+assembles a poly from a given variable and a term list. A variable will be 
+just a symbol, so we can use the same-variable? procedure of Section 
+2.3.2 to compare variables. The following procedures define addition and 
+multiplication of polys: 
+
+(define (add-poly p1 p2) 
+
+(if (same-variable? (variable p1) (variable p2)) 
+(make-poly (variable pi) 
+
+(add-terms (term-list p1) (term-list p2))) 
+(error "Polys not in same var: ADD-POLY" (list p1 p2)))) 
+(define (mul-poly p1 p2) 
+
+(if (same-variable? (variable p1) (variable p2)) 
+(make-poly (variable pi) 
+
+(mul-terms (term-list p1) (term-list p2))) 
+(error "Polys not in same var: MUL-POLY" (list p1 p2)))) 
+
+simple. To obtain, for example, the sum of two polynomials represented in this way, 
+we need only add the values of the polynomials at corresponding points. To transform 
+back to a more familiar representation, we can use the Lagrange interpolation formula, 
+which shows how to recover the coefficients of a polynomial of degree n given the 
+values of the polynomial at n + 1 points. 
+
+
+
+276 
+
+
+
+To incorporate polynomials into our generic arithmetic system, we need 
+to supply them with type tags. We'll use the tag polynomial, and install 
+appropriate operations on tagged polynomials in the operation table. 
+We'll embed all our code in an installation procedure for the polynomial 
+package, similar to the ones in Section 2.5.1: 
+
+(define (install-polynomial-package) 
+;; internal procedures 
+;; representation of poly 
+
+(define (make-poly variable term-list) (cons variable term-list)) 
+(define (variable p) (car p)) 
+(define (term-list p) (cdr p)) 
+
+{procedures same-variable? and variable? from section 2.3.2) 
+
+;; representation of terms and term lists 
+
+{procedures adjoin-term ... coeff from text below) 
+
+(define (add-poly p1 p2) . . .) 
+
+{procedures used by add-poly) 
+
+(define (mul-poly p1 p2) . . .) 
+
+{procedures used by mul-poly) 
+
+;; interface to rest of the system 
+
+(define (tag p) (attach-tag 'polynomial p)) 
+
+(put 'add '(polynomial polynomial) 
+
+(lambda (p1 p2) (tag (add-poly p1 p2)))) 
+(put 'mul '(polynomial polynomial) 
+
+(lambda (p1 p2) (tag (mul-poly p1 p2)))) 
+(put 'make 'polynomial 
+
+(lambda (var terms) (tag (make-poly var terms)))) 
+'done) 
+
+Polynomial addition is performed termwise. Terms of the same order 
+(i.e., with the same power of the indeterminate) must be combined. This 
+is done by forming a new term of the same order whose coefficient is the 
+sum of the coefficients of the addends. Terms in one addend for which 
+
+
+
+277 
+
+
+
+there are no terms of the same order in the other addend are simply 
+accumulated into the sum polynomial being constructed. 
+
+In order to manipulate term lists, we will assume that we have a 
+constructor the-empty-termlist that returns an empty term list and 
+a constructor adjoin-term that adjoins a new term to a term list. We 
+will also assume that we have a predicate empty- terml i st? that tells if a 
+given term list is empty, a selector f i rst-term that extracts the highest- 
+order term from a term list, and a selector rest-terms that returns all 
+but the highest-order term. To manipulate terms, we will suppose that 
+we have a constructor make-term that constructs a term with given or- 
+der and coefficient, and selectors order and coeff that return, respec- 
+tively, the order and the coefficient of the term. These operations allow 
+us to consider both terms and term lists as data abstractions, whose 
+concrete representations we can worry about separately. 
+
+Here is the procedure that constructs the term list for the sum of 
+two polynomials: 56 
+
+(define (add-terms L1 L2) 
+
+(cond ( (empty-termlist? L1) L2) 
+((empty-termlist? L2) L1) 
+(else 
+
+(let ((tl (first-term LI)) 
+(t2 (first-term L2))) 
+(cond ((> (order tl) (order t2)) 
+(adjoin-term 
+
+t1 (add-terms (rest-terms LI) L2))) 
+((< (order t1) (order t2)) 
+
+56 This operation is very much like the ordered union-set operation we developed 
+in Exercise 2.62. In fact, if we think of the terms of the polynomial as a set ordered 
+according to the power of the indeterminate, then the program that produces the term 
+list for a sum is almost identical to union-set. 
+
+
+
+278 
+
+
+
+(adjoin-term 
+
+t2 (add-terms L1 (rest-terms L2)))) 
+(else 
+(adjoin-term 
+(make-term (order t1) 
+
+(add (coeff t1) (coeff t2))) 
+(add-terms (rest-terms L1) 
+
+(rest-terms L2))))))))) 
+
+The most important point to note here is that we used the generic ad- 
+dition procedure add to add together the coefficients of the terms being 
+combined. This has powerful consequences, as we will see below. 
+
+In order to multiply two term lists, we multiply each term of the 
+first list by all the terms of the other list, repeatedly using mul- term- 
+by-all- terms, which multiplies a given term by all terms in a given 
+term list. The resulting term lists (one for each term of the first list) are 
+accumulated into a sum. Multiplying two terms forms a term whose 
+order is the sum of the orders of the factors and whose coefficient is the 
+product of the coefficients of the factors: 
+
+(define (mul-terms L1 L2) 
+(if (empty-termlist? L1) 
+(the-empty-termlist) 
+
+(add-terms (mul-term-by-all-terms (first-term LI) L2) 
+(mul-terms (rest-terms LI) L2)))) 
+(define (mul-term-by-all-terms t1 L) 
+(if (empty-termlist? L) 
+(the-empty-termlist) 
+(let ((t2 (first-term L))) 
+(adjoin-term 
+(make-term (+ (order t1) (order t2)) 
+
+(mul (coeff tl) (coeff t2))) 
+(mul-term-by-all-terms tl (rest-terms L)))))) 
+
+
+
+279 
+
+
+
+This is really all there is to polynomial addition and multiplication. No- 
+tice that, since we operate on terms using the generic procedures add 
+and mul, our polynomial package is automatically able to handle any 
+type of coefficient that is known about by the generic arithmetic pack- 
+age. If we include a coercion mechanism such as one of those discussed 
+in Section 2.5.2, then we also are automatically able to handle operations 
+on polynomials of different coefficient types, such as 
+
+
+
+[3x 2 + (2 + 3i)x + 7] 
+
+
+
+2 , 
+
+x 4 + -x 2 + (5 + 3z) 
+
+
+
+Because we installed the polynomial addition and multiplication proce- 
+dures add-poly and mul-poly in the generic arithmetic system as the 
+add and mul operations for type polynomial, our system is also auto- 
+matically able to handle polynomial operations such as 
+
+
+
+(y + l)x 2 + (y 2 + \)x + (y - 1) 
+
+
+
+(y - 2)x + (y 3 + 7) 
+
+
+
+The reason is that when the system tries to combine coefficients, it will 
+dispatch through add and mul. Since the coefficients are themselves 
+polynomials (in y), these will be combined using add-poly and mul- 
+poly. The result is a kind of "data-directed recursion" in which, for ex- 
+ample, a call to mul-poly will result in recursive calls to mul-poly in 
+order to multiply the coefficients. If the coefficients of the coefficients 
+were themselves polynomials (as might be used to represent polynomi- 
+als in three variables), the data direction would ensure that the system 
+would follow through another level of recursive calls, and so on through 
+as many levels as the structure of the data dictates. 57 
+
+
+
+57 To make this work completely smoothly, we should also add to our generic arith- 
+metic system the ability to coerce a "number" to a polynomial by regarding it as a 
+
+
+
+280 
+
+
+
+Representing term lists 
+
+Finally, we must confront the job of implementing a good representa- 
+tion for term lists. A term list is, in effect, a set of coefficients keyed 
+by the order of the term. Hence, any of the methods for representing 
+sets, as discussed in Section 2.3.3, can be applied to this task. On the 
+other hand, our procedures add-terms and mul-terms always access 
+term lists sequentially from highest to lowest order. Thus, we will use 
+some kind of ordered list representation. 
+
+How should we structure the list that represents a term list? One 
+consideration is the "density" of the polynomials we intend to manip- 
+ulate. A polynomial is said to be dense if it has nonzero coefficients in 
+terms of most orders. If it has many zero terms it is said to be sparse. For 
+example, 
+
+A: x 5 + 2x 4 + 3x 2 - 2x - 5 
+is a dense polynomial, whereas 
+
+B : x 100 + 2x 2 + 1 
+
+is sparse. 
+
+The term lists of dense polynomials are most efficiently represented 
+as lists of the coefficients. For example, A above would be nicely rep- 
+resented as (1 2 0 3 -2 -5). The order of a term in this representa- 
+tion is the length of the sublist beginning with that term's coefficient, 
+
+polynomial of degree zero whose coefficient is the number. This is necessary if we are 
+going to perform operations such as 
+
+[x 2 + (y + i)x + 5] + [x z + 2x + 1] , 
+
+which requires adding the coefficient y + 1 to the coefficient 2. 
+
+
+
+281 
+
+
+
+decremented by l. 58 This would be a terrible representation for a sparse 
+polynomial such as B: There would be a giant list of zeros punctuated 
+by a few lonely nonzero terms. A more reasonable representation of the 
+term list of a sparse polynomial is as a list of the nonzero terms, where 
+each term is a list containing the order of the term and the coefficient 
+for that order. In such a scheme, polynomial B is efficiently represented 
+as ((100 1) (2 2) (0 1 )). As most polynomial manipulations are 
+performed on sparse polynomials, we will use this method. We will as- 
+sume that term lists are represented as lists of terms, arranged from 
+highest-order to lowest-order term. Once we have made this decision, 
+implementing the selectors and constructors for terms and term lists is 
+straightforward: 59 
+
+(define (adjoin-term term term-list) 
+(if (=zero? (coeff term)) 
+term-list 
+
+(cons term term-list))) 
+(define (the-empty-termlist) '()) 
+(define (first-term term-list) (car term-list)) 
+(define (rest-terms term-list) (cdr term-list)) 
+(define (empty-termlist? term-list) (null? term-list)) 
+(define (make-term order coeff) (list order coeff)) 
+
+58 In these polynomial examples, we assume that we have implemented the generic 
+arithmetic system using the type mechanism suggested in Exercise 2.78. Thus, coeffi- 
+cients that are ordinary numbers will be represented as the numbers themselves rather 
+than as pairs whose car is the symbol scheme-number. 
+
+59 Although we are assuming that term lists are ordered, we have implemented ad- 
+join-term to simply cons the new term onto the existing term list. We can get away 
+with this so long as we guarantee that the procedures (such as add-terms) that use ad- 
+join-term always call it with a higher-order term than appears in the list. If we did not 
+want to make such a guarantee, we could have implemented adjoin-term to be simi- 
+lar to the adjoin-set constructor for the ordered-list representation of sets (Exercise 
+2.61). 
+
+
+
+282 
+
+
+
+(define (order term) (car term)) 
+(define (coeff term) (cadr term)) 
+
+where =zero? is as defined in Exercise 2.80. (See also Exercise 2.87 be- 
+low.) 
+
+Users of the polynomial package will create (tagged) polynomials 
+by means of the procedure: 
+
+(define (make-polynomial var terms) 
+((get 'make 'polynomial) var terms)) 
+
+Exercise 2.87: Install =zero? for polynomials in the generic 
+arithmetic package. This will allow adjoin-term to work 
+for polynomials with coefficients that are themselves poly- 
+nomials. 
+
+Exercise 2.88: Extend the polynomial system to include 
+subtraction of polynomials. (Hint: You may find it helpful 
+to define a generic negation operation.) 
+
+Exercise 2.89: Define procedures that implement the term- 
+list representation described above as appropriate for dense 
+polynomials. 
+
+Exercise 2.90: Suppose we want to have a polynomial sys- 
+tem that is efficient for both sparse and dense polynomials. 
+One way to do this is to allow both kinds of term- list repre- 
+sentations in our system. The situation is analogous to the 
+complex-number example of Section 2.4, where we allowed 
+both rectangular and polar representations. To do this we 
+must distinguish different types of term lists and make the 
+operations on term lists generic. Redesign the polynomial 
+
+
+
+283 
+
+
+
+system to implement this generalization. This is a major ef- 
+fort, not a local change. 
+
+Exercise 2.9T: A univariate polynomial can be divided by 
+another one to produce a polynomial quotient and a poly- 
+nomial remainder. For example, 
+
+x 5 - 1 
+
+— - x + x, remainder x — 1. 
+
+x z - 1 
+
+Division can be performed via long division. That is, divide 
+the highest-order term of the dividend by the highest-order 
+term of the divisor. The result is the first term of the quo- 
+tient. Next, multiply the result by the divisor, subtract that 
+from the dividend, and produce the rest of the answer by re- 
+cursively dividing the difference by the divisor. Stop when 
+the order of the divisor exceeds the order of the dividend 
+and declare the dividend to be the remainder. Also, if the 
+dividend ever becomes zero, return zero as both quotient 
+and remainder. 
+
+We can design a div-poly procedure on the model of add- 
+poly and mul-poly. The procedure checks to see if the two 
+polys have the same variable. If so, div-poly strips off the 
+variable and passes the problem to div-terms, which per- 
+forms the division operation on term lists. Div-poly finally 
+reattaches the variable to the result supplied by div-terms. 
+It is convenient to design div-terms to compute both the 
+quotient and the remainder of a division. Div-terms can 
+take two term lists as arguments and return a list of the 
+quotient term list and the remainder term list. 
+
+
+
+284 
+
+
+
+Complete the following definition of div-terms by filling 
+in the missing expressions. Use this to implement di v-poly, 
+which takes two polys as arguments and returns a list of the 
+quotient and remainder polys. 
+
+(define (div-terms L1 L2) 
+(if (empty-termlist? L1) 
+
+(list (the-empty-termlist) (the-empty-termlist) ) 
+(let ((tl (first-term L1)) 
+(t2 (first-term L2))) 
+(if (> (order t2) (order t1)) 
+
+(list (the-empty-termlist) LI) 
+(let ((new-c (div (coeff t1) (coeff t2))) 
+(new-o (- (order t1) (order t2)))) 
+(let ( (rest-of-result 
+
+(compute rest of result recursively) )) 
+(form complete result) )))))) 
+
+Hierarchies of types in symbolic algebra 
+
+Our polynomial system illustrates how objects of one type (polynomi- 
+als) may in fact be complex objects that have objects of many different 
+types as parts. This poses no real difficulty in defining generic opera- 
+tions. We need only install appropriate generic operations for perform- 
+ing the necessary manipulations of the parts of the compound types. 
+In fact, we saw that polynomials form a kind of "recursive data abstrac- 
+tion," in that parts of a polynomial may themselves be polynomials. Our 
+generic operations and our data-directed programming style can handle 
+this complication without much trouble. 
+
+On the other hand, polynomial algebra is a system for which the 
+data types cannot be naturally arranged in a tower. For instance, it is 
+possible to have polynomials in x whose coefficients are polynomials 
+in y. It is also possible to have polynomials in y whose coefficients are 
+
+
+
+285 
+
+
+
+polynomials in x. Neither of these types is "above" the other in any 
+natural way, yet it is often necessary to add together elements from 
+each set. There are several ways to do this. One possibility is to convert 
+one polynomial to the type of the other by expanding and rearrang- 
+ing terms so that both polynomials have the same principal variable. 
+One can impose a towerlike structure on this by ordering the variables 
+and thus always converting any polynomial to a "canonical form" with 
+the highest-priority variable dominant and the lower-priority variables 
+buried in the coefficients. This strategy works fairly well, except that 
+the conversion may expand a polynomial unnecessarily, making it hard 
+to read and perhaps less efficient to work with. The tower strategy is 
+certainly not natural for this domain or for any domain where the user 
+can invent new types dynamically using old types in various combining 
+forms, such as trigonometric functions, power series, and integrals. 
+
+It should not be surprising that controlling coercion is a serious 
+problem in the design of large-scale algebraic-manipulation systems. 
+Much of the complexity of such systems is concerned with relationships 
+among diverse types. Indeed, it is fair to say that we do not yet com- 
+pletely understand coercion. In fact, we do not yet completely under- 
+stand the concept of a data type. Nevertheless, what we know provides 
+us with powerful structuring and modularity principles to support the 
+design of large systems. 
+
+Exercise 2.92: By imposing an ordering on variables, ex- 
+tend the polynomial package so that addition and multipli- 
+cation of polynomials works for polynomials in different 
+variables. (This is not easy!) 
+
+
+
+286 
+
+
+
+Extended exercise: Rational functions 
+
+We can extend our generic arithmetic system to include rational func- 
+tions. These are "fractions" whose numerator and denominator are poly- 
+nomials, such as 
+
+x + 1 
+x 3 - 1 ' 
+
+The system should be able to add, subtract, multiply, and divide rational 
+functions, and to perform such computations as 
+
+x + 1 x x 3 + 2x 2 + 3x + 1 
+
++ = . 
+
+x 3 - 1 x 2 - 1 x 4 + x 3 - x - 1 
+
+(Here the sum has been simplified by removing common factors. Ordi- 
+nary "cross multiplication" would have produced a fourth-degree poly- 
+nomial over a fifth-degree polynomial.) 
+
+If we modify our rational-arithmetic package so that it uses generic 
+operations, then it will do what we want, except for the problem of 
+reducing fractions to lowest terms. 
+
+Exercise 2.93: Modify the rational-arithmetic package to 
+use generic operations, but change make- rat so that it does 
+not attempt to reduce fractions to lowest terms. Test your 
+system by calling make-rational on two polynomials to 
+produce a rational function: 
+
+(define pi (make-polynomial 'x '((2 1) (0 1)))) 
+(define p2 (make-polynomial 'x '((3 1) (0 1)))) 
+(define rf (make-rational p2 p1)) 
+
+Now add rf to itself, using add. You will observe that this 
+addition procedure does not reduce fractions to lowest terms. 
+
+
+
+287 
+
+
+
+We can reduce polynomial fractions to lowest terms using the same idea 
+we used with integers: modifying make-rat to divide both the numera- 
+tor and the denominator by their greatest common divisor. The notion 
+of "greatest common divisor" makes sense for polynomials. In fact, we 
+can compute the gcd of two polynomials using essentially the same 
+Euclid's Algorithm that works for integers. 60 The integer version is 
+
+(define (gcd a b) 
+(if (= b 0) 
+a 
+
+(gcd b (remainder a b)))) 
+
+Using this, we could make the obvious modification to define a gcd 
+operation that works on term lists: 
+
+(define (gcd-terms a b) 
+(if (empty-termlist? b) 
+a 
+
+(gcd-terms b (remainder-terms a b)))) 
+
+where remainder-terms picks out the remainder component of the list 
+returned by the term-list division operation di v-terms that was imple- 
+mented in Exercise 2.91. 
+
+
+
+6 The fact that Euclid's Algorithm works for polynomials is formalized in algebra 
+by saying that polynomials form a kind of algebraic domain called a Euclidean ring. A 
+Euclidean ring is a domain that admits addition, subtraction, and commutative mul- 
+tiplication, together with a way of assigning to each element x of the ring a positive 
+integer "measure" m(x) with the properties that m(xy) > m(x) for any nonzero x and 
+y and that, given any x and y, there exists a q such that y = qx + r and either r = 0 
+or m(r) < m(x). From an abstract point of view, this is what is needed to prove that 
+Euclid's Algorithm works. For the domain of integers, the measure m of an integer is 
+the absolute value of the integer itself. For the domain of polynomials, the measure of 
+a polynomial is its degree. 
+
+
+
+288 
+
+
+
+Exercise 2.94: Using div-terms, implement the procedure 
+remainder-terms and use this to define gcd-terms as above. 
+Now write a procedure gcd-poly that computes the poly- 
+nomial gcd of two polys. (The procedure should signal an 
+error if the two polys are not in the same variable.) Install in 
+the system a generic operation greatest-common-divisor 
+that reduces to gcd-poly for polynomials and to ordinary 
+gcd for ordinary numbers. As a test, try 
+
+(define p1 (make-polynomial 
+
+'x '((4 1) (3 -1) (2 -2) (1 2)))) 
+(define p2 (make-polynomial 'x '((3 1) (1 -1)))) 
+(greatest-common-divisor pi p2) 
+
+and check your result by hand. 
+
+Exercise 2.95: Define P 1; P 2 , and P 3 to be the polynomials 
+
+?! : x 2 -2x + l, 
+P 2 : llx 2 + 7, 
+P 3 : 13x + 5. 
+
+Now define Q\ to be the product of P\ and P 2 and Q 2 to 
+be the product of Pi and P 3 , and use greatest-common- 
+divisor (Exercise 2.94) to compute the gcd of Qi and Q 2 . 
+Note that the answer is not the same as Pi. This example in- 
+troduces noninteger operations into the computation, caus- 
+ing difficulties with the gcd algorithm. 61 To understand 
+
+61 In an implementation like mit Scheme, this produces a polynomial that is indeed 
+a divisor of Q\ and Q2, but with rational coefficients. In many other Scheme systems, 
+in which division of integers can produce limited-precision decimal numbers, we may 
+fail to get a valid divisor. 
+
+
+
+289 
+
+
+
+what is happening, try tracing gcd-terms while comput- 
+ing the gcd or try performing the division by hand. 
+
+We can solve the problem exhibited in Exercise 2.95 if we use the follow- 
+ing modification of the gcd algorithm (which really works only in the 
+case of polynomials with integer coefficients). Before performing any 
+polynomial division in the gcd computation, we multiply the dividend 
+by an integer constant factor, chosen to guarantee that no fractions will 
+arise during the division process. Our answer will thus differ from the 
+actual gcd by an integer constant factor, but this does not matter in the 
+case of reducing rational functions to lowest terms; the gcd will be used 
+to divide both the numerator and denominator, so the integer constant 
+factor will cancel out. 
+
+More precisely, if P and Q are polynomials, let Oj be the order of P 
+(i.e., the order of the largest term of P) and let O2 be the order of Q. Let c 
+be the leading coefficient of Q. Then it can be shown that, if we multiply 
+P by the integerizing factor c l+ ° l ^° 2 , the resulting polynomial can be 
+dividedby Qby using the div-terms algorithm without introducing any 
+fractions. The operation of multiplying the dividend by this constant 
+and then dividing is sometimes called the pseudodivision of P by Q. The 
+remainder of the division is called the pseudoremainder. 
+
+Exercise 2.96: 
+
+a. Implement the procedure pseudoremainder-terms, which 
+is just like remainder-terms except that it multiplies 
+the dividend by the integerizing factor described above 
+before calling div-terms. Modify gcd-terms to use 
+pseudoremainder-terms, and verify that greatest- 
+common-divisor now produces an answer with inte- 
+ger coefficients on the example in Exercise 2.95. 
+
+290 
+
+
+
+b. The gcd now has integer coefficients, but they are 
+larger than those of Pj. Modify gcd-terms so that it 
+removes common factors from the coefficients of the 
+answer by dividing all the coefficients by their (inte- 
+ger) greatest common divisor. 
+
+Thus, here is how to reduce a rational function to lowest terms: 
+
+• Compute the gcd of the numerator and denominator, using the 
+version of gcd-terms from Exercise 2.96. 
+
+• When you obtain the gcd, multiply both numerator and denomi- 
+nator by the same integerizing factor before dividing through by 
+the gcd, so that division by the gcd will not introduce any nonin- 
+teger coefficients. As the factor you can use the leading coefficient 
+of the gcd raised to the power 1 + 0\ — Oz, where O2 is the order 
+of the gcd and 0\ is the maximum of the orders of the numerator 
+and denominator. This will ensure that dividing the numerator 
+and denominator by the gcd will not introduce any fractions. 
+
+• The result of this operation will be a numerator and denominator 
+with integer coefficients. The coefficients will normally be very 
+large because of all of the integerizing factors, so the last step is to 
+remove the redundant factors by computing the (integer) greatest 
+common divisor of all the coefficients of the numerator and the 
+denominator and dividing through by this factor. 
+
+Exercise 2.97: 
+
+a. Implement this algorithm as a procedure reduce-terms 
+that takes two term lists n and d as arguments and re- 
+
+
+
+291 
+
+
+
+turns a list nn, dd, which are n and d reduced to low- 
+est terms via the algorithm given above. Also write a 
+procedure reduce-poly, analogous to add-poly, that 
+checks to see if the two polys have the same variable. 
+If so, reduce-poly strips off the variable and passes 
+the problem to reduce-terms, then reattaches the vari- 
+able to the two term lists supplied by reduce-terms. 
+
+b. Define a procedure analogous to reduce-terms that 
+does what the original make-rat did for integers: 
+
+(define (reduce-integers n d) 
+(let ((g (gcd n d))) 
+
+(list (/ n g) (/ d g)))) 
+
+and define reduce as a generic operation that calls 
+apply-generic to dispatch to either reduce-poly (for 
+polynomial arguments) or reduce-integers (for scheme- 
+numbe r arguments). You can now easily make the rational- 
+arithmetic package reduce fractions to lowest terms 
+by having make-rat call reduce before combining the 
+given numerator and denominator to form a ratio- 
+nal number. The system now handles rational expres- 
+sions in either integers or polynomials. To test your 
+program, try the example at the beginning of this ex- 
+tended exercise: 
+
+(define p1 (make-polynomial 'x '((1 1) (0 1)))) 
+(define p2 (make-polynomial 'x '((3 1) (0 -1)))) 
+(define p3 (make-polynomial 'x '((1 1)))) 
+(define p4 (make-polynomial 'x '((2 1) (0 -1)))) 
+(define rf1 (make-rational p1 p2)) 
+(define rf2 (make-rational p3 p4)) 
+
+
+
+292 
+
+
+
+(add rfl rf2) 
+
+
+
+See if you get the correct answer, correctly reduced to 
+lowest terms. 
+
+The gcd computation is at the heart of any system that does opera- 
+tions on rational functions. The algorithm used above, although mathe- 
+matically straightforward, is extremely slow. The slowness is due partly 
+to the large number of division operations and partly to the enormous 
+size of the intermediate coefficients generated by the pseudodivisions. 
+One of the active areas in the development of algebraic-manipulation 
+systems is the design of better algorithms for computing polynomial 
+
+CCDS. 62 
+
+
+
+One extremely efficient and elegant method for computing polynomial gcds was 
+discovered by Richard Zippel (1979). The method is a probabilistic algorithm, as is the 
+fast test for primality that we discussed in Chapter 1. Zippel's book (Zippel 1993) de- 
+scribes this method, together with other ways to compute polynomial gcds. 
+
+
+
+293 
+
+
+
+
+Modularity, Objects, and State 
+
+
+
+MexocP&JiJiov avanavexai 
+
+(Even while it changes, it stands still.) 
+
+— Heraclitus 
+
+Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose. 
+— Alphonse Karr 
+
+pHE preceding chapters introduced the basic elements from which 
+programs are made. We saw how primitive procedures and primi- 
+tive data are combined to construct compound entities, and we learned 
+that abstraction is vital in helping us to cope with the complexity of 
+large systems. But these tools are not sufficient for designing programs. 
+Effective program synthesis also requires organizational principles that 
+can guide us in formulating the overall design of a program. In partic- 
+ular, we need strategies to help us structure large systems so that they 
+
+
+
+294 
+
+
+
+will be modular, that is, so that they can be divided "naturally" into co- 
+herent parts that can be separately developed and maintained. 
+
+One powerful design strategy, which is particularly appropriate to 
+the construction of programs for modeling physical systems, is to base 
+the structure of our programs on the structure of the system being mod- 
+eled. For each object in the system, we construct a corresponding com- 
+putational object. For each system action, we define a symbolic opera- 
+tion in our computational model. Our hope in using this strategy is that 
+extending the model to accommodate new objects or new actions will 
+require no strategic changes to the program, only the addition of the 
+new symbolic analogs of those objects or actions. If we have been suc- 
+cessful in our system organization, then to add a new feature or debug 
+an old one we will have to work on only a localized part of the system. 
+
+To a large extent, then, the way we organize a large program is dic- 
+tated by our perception of the system to be modeled. In this chapter we 
+will investigate two prominent organizational strategies arising from 
+two rather different "world views" of the structure of systems. The first 
+organizational strategy concentrates on objects, viewing a large system 
+as a collection of distinct objects whose behaviors may change over 
+time. An alternative organizational strategy concentrates on the streams 
+of information that flow in the system, much as an electrical engineer 
+views a signal-processing system. 
+
+Both the object-based approach and the stream-processing approach 
+raise significant linguistic issues in programming. With objects, we must 
+be concerned with how a computational object can change and yet main- 
+tain its identity. This will force us to abandon our old substitution model 
+of computation (Section 1.1.5) in favor of a more mechanistic but less 
+theoretically tractable environment model of computation. The difficul- 
+ties of dealing with objects, change, and identity are a fundamental con- 
+
+
+
+295 
+
+
+
+sequence of the need to grapple with time in our computational models. 
+These difficulties become even greater when we allow the possibility of 
+concurrent execution of programs. The stream approach can be most 
+fully exploited when we decouple simulated time in our model from the 
+order of the events that take place in the computer during evaluation. 
+We will accomplish this using a technique known as delayed evaluation. 
+
+3.1 Assignment and Local State 
+
+We ordinarily view the world as populated by independent objects, each 
+of which has a state that changes over time. An object is said to "have 
+state" if its behavior is influenced by its history. A bank account, for 
+example, has state in that the answer to the question "Can I withdraw 
+$100?" depends upon the history of deposit and withdrawal transac- 
+tions. We can characterize an object's state by one or more state vari- 
+ables, which among them maintain enough information about history 
+to determine the object's current behavior. In a simple banking system, 
+we could characterize the state of an account by a current balance rather 
+than by remembering the entire history of account transactions. 
+
+In a system composed of many objects, the objects are rarely com- 
+pletely independent. Each may influence the states of others through 
+interactions, which serve to couple the state variables of one object to 
+those of other objects. Indeed, the view that a system is composed of 
+separate objects is most useful when the state variables of the system 
+can be grouped into closely coupled subsystems that are only loosely 
+coupled to other subsystems. 
+
+This view of a system can be a powerful framework for organizing 
+computational models of the system. For such a model to be modular, it 
+should be decomposed into computational objects that model the actual 
+
+
+
+296 
+
+
+
+objects in the system. Each computational object must have its own lo- 
+cal state variables describing the actual object's state. Since the states of 
+objects in the system being modeled change over time, the state vari- 
+ables of the corresponding computational objects must also change. If 
+we choose to model the flow of time in the system by the elapsed time 
+in the computer, then we must have a way to construct computational 
+objects whose behaviors change as our programs run. In particular, if 
+we wish to model state variables by ordinary symbolic names in the 
+programming language, then the language must provide an assignment 
+operator to enable us to change the value associated with a name. 
+
+3.1.1 Local State Variables 
+
+To illustrate what we mean by having a computational object with time- 
+varying state, let us model the situation of withdrawing money from a 
+bank account. We will do this using a procedure withdraw, which takes 
+as argument an amount to be withdrawn. If there is enough money in 
+the account to accommodate the withdrawal, then withdraw should re- 
+turn the balance remaining after the withdrawal. Otherwise, withdraw 
+should return the message Insufficient funds. For example, if we begin 
+with $100 in the account, we should obtain the following sequence of 
+responses using withdraw: 
+
+(withdraw 25) 
+
+75 
+
+(withdraw 25) 
+
+50 
+
+(withdraw 60) 
+"Insufficient funds" 
+(withdraw 15) 
+
+35 
+
+
+
+297 
+
+
+
+Observe that the expression (withdraw 25), evaluated twice, yields 
+different values. This is a new kind of behavior for a procedure. Until 
+now, all our procedures could be viewed as specifications for comput- 
+ing mathematical functions. A call to a procedure computed the value of 
+the function applied to the given arguments, and two calls to the same 
+procedure with the same arguments always produced the same result. 1 
+To implement withdraw, we can use a variable balance to indicate 
+the balance of money in the account and define withdraw as a procedure 
+that accesses balance. The withdraw procedure checks to see if balance 
+is at least as large as the requested amount. If so, withdraw decrements 
+balance by amount and returns the new value of balance. Otherwise, 
+withdraw returns the Insufficient funds message. Here are the definitions 
+of balance and withdraw: 
+
+(define balance 100) 
+(define (withdraw amount) 
+(if (>= balance amount) 
+
+(begin (set! balance (- balance amount)) 
+
+balance) 
+"Insufficient funds")) 
+
+Decrementing balance is accomplished by the expression 
+
+(set! balance (- balance amount)) 
+
+This uses the set ! special form, whose syntax is 
+
+(set! (name) (new-value)) 
+
+Actually, this is not quite true. One exception was the random-number generator 
+in Section 1.2.6. Another exception involved the operation/ type tables we introduced in 
+Section 2.4.3, where the values of two calls to get with the same arguments depended 
+on intervening calls to put. On the other hand, until we introduce assignment, we have 
+no way to create such procedures ourselves. 
+
+
+
+298 
+
+
+
+Here (name) is a symbol and (new-value) is any expression. Set ! changes 
+(name) so that its value is the result obtained by evaluating (new-value). 
+In the case at hand, we are changing balance so that its new value will 
+be the result of subtracting amount from the previous value of balance. 2 
+Withdraw also uses the begin special form to cause two expressions 
+to be evaluated in the case where the if test is true: first decrementing 
+balance and then returning the value of balance. In general, evaluating 
+the expression 
+
+(begin (expi) (exp 2 ) ... (exp k )) 
+
+causes the expressions (exp\) through (expk) to be evaluated in se- 
+quence and the value of the final expression (expk) to be returned as 
+the value of the entire begin form. 3 
+
+Although withdraw works as desired, the variable balance presents 
+a problem. As specified above, balance is a name defined in the global 
+environment and is freely accessible to be examined or modified by any 
+procedure. It would be much better if we could somehow make balance 
+internal to withdraw, so that withdraw would be the only procedure 
+that could access balance directly and any other procedure could access 
+balance only indirectly (through calls to withdraw). This would more 
+accurately model the notion that balance is a local state variable used 
+
+2 1he value of a set ! expression is implementation-dependent. Set ! should be used 
+only for its effect, not for its value. 
+
+The name set ! reflects a naming convention used in Scheme: Operations that change 
+the values of variables (or that change data structures, as we will see in Section 3.3) are 
+given names that end with an exclamation point. This is similar to the convention of 
+designating predicates by names that end with a question mark. 
+
+3 We have already used begin implicitly in our programs, because in Scheme the 
+body of a procedure can be a sequence of expressions. Also, the (consequent) part of 
+each clause in a cond expression can be a sequence of expressions rather than a single 
+expression. 
+
+
+
+299 
+
+
+
+by withdraw to keep track of the state of the account. 
+
+We can make balance internal to withdraw by rewriting the defi- 
+nition as follows: 
+
+(define new-withdraw 
+(let ((balance 100)) 
+(lambda (amount) 
+
+(if (>= balance amount) 
+
+(begin (set! balance (- balance amount)) 
+
+balance) 
+"Insufficient funds")))) 
+
+What we have done here is use let to establish an environment with a 
+local variable balance, bound to the initial value 100. Within this local 
+environment, we use lambda to create a procedure that takes amount as 
+an argument and behaves like our previous withdraw procedure. This 
+procedure— returned as the result of evaluating the let expression— is 
+new-withdraw, which behaves in precisely the same way as withdraw 
+but whose variable balance is not accessible by any other procedure. 4 
+Combining set! with local variables is the general programming 
+technique we will use for constructing computational objects with lo- 
+cal state. Unfortunately, using this technique raises a serious problem: 
+When we first introduced procedures, we also introduced the substi- 
+tution model of evaluation (Section 1.1.5) to provide an interpretation 
+of what procedure application means. We said that applying a proce- 
+dure should be interpreted as evaluating the body of the procedure with 
+the formal parameters replaced by their values. The trouble is that, as 
+
+4 In programming-language jargon, the variable balance is said to be encapsulated 
+within the new-withdraw procedure. Encapsulation reflects the general system-design 
+principle known as the hiding principle: One can make a system more modular and ro- 
+bust by protecting parts of the system from each other; that is, by providing information 
+access only to those parts of the system that have a "need to know." 
+
+
+
+300 
+
+
+
+soon as we introduce assignment into our language, substitution is no 
+longer an adequate model of procedure application. (We will see why 
+this is so in Section 3.1.3.) As a consequence, we technically have at 
+this point no way to understand why the new-withdraw procedure be- 
+haves as claimed above. In order to really understand a procedure such 
+as new-withdraw, we will need to develop a new model of procedure ap- 
+plication. In Section 3.2 we will introduce such a model, together with 
+an explanation of set ! and local variables. First, however, we examine 
+some variations on the theme established by new-withdraw. 
+
+The following procedure, make-withdraw, creates "withdrawal pro- 
+cessors." The formal parameter balance in make-withdraw specifies the 
+initial amount of money in the account. 5 
+
+(define (make-withdraw balance) 
+(lambda (amount) 
+
+(if (>= balance amount) 
+
+(begin (set! balance (- balance amount)) 
+
+balance) 
+"Insufficient funds"))) 
+
+Make-withdraw can be used as follows to create two objects W1 and W2: 
+
+(define W1 (make-withdraw 100)) 
+(define W2 (make-withdraw 100)) 
+
+(W1 50) 
+50 
+
+(W2 70) 
+30 
+
+
+
+5 In contrast with new-withdraw above, we do not have to use let to make balance 
+a local variable, since formal parameters are already local. This will be clearer after the 
+discussion of the environment model of evaluation in Section 3.2. (See also Exercise 
+3.10.) 
+
+
+
+301 
+
+
+
+(W2 40) 
+
+"Insufficient funds" 
+
+(W1 40) 
+
+70 
+
+Observe that W1 and W2 are completely independent objects, each with 
+its own local state variable balance. Withdrawals from one do not affect 
+the other. 
+
+We can also create objects that handle deposits as well as with- 
+drawals, and thus we can represent simple bank accounts. Here is a 
+procedure that returns a "bank-account object" with a specified initial 
+balance: 
+
+(define (make-account balance) 
+(define (withdraw amount) 
+(if (>= balance amount) 
+
+(begin (set! balance (- balance 
+
+balance) 
+"Insufficient funds")) 
+(define (deposit amount) 
+
+(set! balance (+ balance amount)) 
+balance) 
+(define (dispatch m) 
+
+(cond ((eq? m 'withdraw) withdraw) 
+((eq? m 'deposit) deposit) 
+(else (error "Unknown request 
+m)))) 
+
+dispatch) 
+
+Each call to make-account sets up an environment with a local state 
+variable balance. Within this environment, make-account defines pro- 
+cedures deposit and withdraw that access balance and an additional 
+procedure dispatch that takes a "message" as input and returns one of 
+
+
+
+amount) ) 
+
+
+
+MAKE-ACCOUNT" 
+
+
+
+302 
+
+
+
+the two local procedures. The dispatch procedure itself is returned as 
+the value that represents the bank-account object. This is precisely the 
+message-passing style of programming that we saw in Section 2.4.3, al- 
+though here we are using it in conjunction with the ability to modify 
+local variables. 
+
+Make-account can be used as follows: 
+
+(define acc (make-account 100)) 
+((acc 'withdraw) 50) 
+
+50 
+
+((acc 'withdraw) 60) 
+"Insufficient funds" 
+((acc 'deposit) 40) 
+
+90 
+
+((acc 'withdraw) 60) 
+
+30 
+
+Each call to acc returns the locally defined deposit or withdraw pro- 
+cedure, which is then applied to the specified amount. As was the case 
+with make-withdraw, another call to make-account 
+
+(define acc2 (make-account 100)) 
+
+will produce a completely separate account object, which maintains its 
+own local balance. 
+
+
+
+Exercise 3.T: An accumulator is a procedure that is called 
+repeatedly with a single numeric argument and accumu- 
+lates its arguments into a sum. Each time it is called, it 
+returns the currently accumulated sum. Write a procedure 
+make-accumulator that generates accumulators, each main- 
+taining an independent sum. The input to make-accumulator 
+should specify the initial value of the sum; for example 
+
+
+
+303 
+
+
+
+(define A (make-accumulator 5)) 
+
+(A 10) 
+
+75 
+
+(A 10) 
+
+25 
+
+Exercise 3.2: In software-testing applications, it is useful 
+to be able to count the number of times a given procedure 
+is called during the course of a computation. Write a pro- 
+cedure make-monitored that takes as input a procedure, f, 
+that itself takes one input. The result returned by make- 
+monitored is a third procedure, say mf, that keeps track 
+of the number of times it has been called by maintaining 
+an internal counter. If the input to mf is the special symbol 
+how-many-calls?, then mf returns the value of the counter. 
+If the input is the special symbol reset-count, then mf re- 
+sets the counter to zero. For any other input, mf returns the 
+result of calling f on that input and increments the counter. 
+For instance, we could make a monitored version of the 
+sqrt procedure: 
+
+(define s (make-monitored sqrt)) 
+
+(s 100) 
+
+70 
+
+(s 'how-many-calls?) 
+
+7 
+
+Exercise 3.3: Modify the make-account procedure so that 
+it creates password-protected accounts. That is, make-account 
+should take a symbol as an additional argument, as in 
+
+(define acc (make-account 100 'secret-password)) 
+
+
+
+304 
+
+
+
+The resulting account object should process a request only 
+if it is accompanied by the password with which the ac- 
+count was created, and should otherwise return a complaint: 
+
+((acc 'secret-password 'withdraw) 40) 
+
+60 
+
+((acc 'some-other-password 'deposit) 50) 
+"Incorrect password" 
+
+Exercise 3.4: Modify the make-account procedure of Ex- 
+ercise 3.3 by adding another local state variable so that, if 
+an account is accessed more than seven consecutive times 
+with an incorrect password, it invokes the procedure call- 
+the-cops. 
+
+3.1.2 The Benefits of Introducing Assignment 
+
+As we shall see, introducing assignment into our programming lan- 
+guage leads us into a thicket of difficult conceptual issues. Nevertheless, 
+viewing systems as collections of objects with local state is a powerful 
+technique for maintaining a modular design. As a simple example, con- 
+sider the design of a procedure rand that, whenever it is called, returns 
+an integer chosen at random. 
+
+It is not at all clear what is meant by "chosen at random." What we 
+presumably want is for successive calls to rand to produce a sequence of 
+numbers that has statistical properties of uniform distribution. We will 
+not discuss methods for generating suitable sequences here. Rather, let 
+us assume that we have a procedure rand-update that has the property 
+that if we start with a given number x\ and form 
+
+x 2 = (rand-update x{) 
+x-i = (rand-update x 2 ) 
+
+
+
+305 
+
+
+
+then the sequence of values x%, x 2 , x 3 , . . . will have the desired statistical 
+properties. 6 
+
+We can implement rand as a procedure with a local state variable 
+x that is initialized to some fixed value random-init. Each call to rand 
+computes rand-update of the current value of x, returns this as the 
+random number, and also stores this as the new value of x. 
+
+(define rand (let ((x random-init)) 
+(lambda () 
+
+(set! x (rand-update x)) 
+
+x))) 
+
+Of course, we could generate the same sequence of random numbers 
+without using assignment by simply calling rand-update directly. How- 
+ever, this would mean that any part of our program that used random 
+numbers would have to explicitly remember the current value of x to 
+be passed as an argument to rand-update. To realize what an annoy- 
+ance this would be, consider using random numbers to implement a 
+technique called Monte Carlo simulation. 
+
+The Monte Carlo method consists of choosing sample experiments 
+at random from a large set and then making deductions on the basis of 
+
+6 One common way to implement rand-update is to use the rule that x is updated 
+to ax + b modulo m, where a, b, and m are appropriately chosen integers. Chapter 3 
+of Knuth 1981 includes an extensive discussion of techniques for generating sequences 
+of random numbers and establishing their statistical properties. Notice that the rand- 
+update procedure computes a mathematical function: Given the same input twice, it 
+produces the same output. Therefore, the number sequence produced by rand-update 
+certainly is not "random," if by "random" we insist that each number in the sequence 
+is unrelated to the preceding number. The relation between "real randomness" and so- 
+called pseudo-random sequences, which are produced by well-determined computations 
+and yet have suitable statistical properties, is a complex question involving difficult 
+issues in mathematics and philosophy. Kolmogorov, Solomonoff, and Chaitin have made 
+great progress in clarifying these issues; a discussion can be found in Chaitin 1975. 
+
+
+
+306 
+
+
+
+the probabilities estimated from tabulating the results of those experi- 
+ments. For example, we can approximate it using the fact that 6/n 2 is 
+the probability that two integers chosen at random will have no fac- 
+tors in common; that is, that their greatest common divisor will be 1. 
+To obtain the approximation to n, we perform a large number of ex- 
+periments. In each experiment we choose two integers at random and 
+perform a test to see if their gcd is 1. The fraction of times that the test 
+is passed gives us our estimate of din 2 , and from this we obtain our 
+approximation to n. 
+
+The heart of our program is a procedure monte-carlo, which takes 
+as arguments the number of times to try an experiment, together with 
+the experiment, represented as a no-argument procedure that will re- 
+turn either true or false each time it is run. Monte-carlo runs the exper- 
+iment for the designated number of trials and returns a number telling 
+the fraction of the trials in which the experiment was found to be true. 
+
+(define (estimate-pi trials) 
+
+(sqrt (/ 6 (monte-carlo trials cesaro-test)))) 
+(define (cesaro-test) 
+
+(= (gcd (rand) (rand)) 1)) 
+
+(define (monte-carlo trials experiment) 
+
+(define (iter trials-remaining trials-passed) 
+(cond ((= trials-remaining 0) 
+
+(/ trials-passed trials)) 
+( (experiment) 
+(iter (- trials-remaining 1) 
+(+ trials-passed 1))) 
+
+(else 
+
+7 This theorem is due to E. Cesaro. See section 4.5.2 of Knuth 1981 for a discussion 
+and a proof. 
+
+
+
+307 
+
+
+
+(iter (- trials-remaining 1) 
+trials-passed)))) 
+(iter trials 0)) 
+
+Now let us try the same computation using rand-update directly rather 
+than rand, the way we would be forced to proceed if we did not use 
+assignment to model local state: 
+
+(define (estimate-pi trials) 
+
+(sqrt (/ 6 (random-gcd-test trials random-init)))) 
+(define (random-gcd-test trials initial-x) 
+
+(define (iter trials-remaining trials-passed x) 
+(let ((x1 (rand-update x))) 
+(let ((x2 (rand-update x1))) 
+(cond ((= trials-remaining 0) 
+
+(/ trials-passed trials)) 
+((= (gcd x1 x2) 1) 
+(iter (- trials-remaining 1) 
+(+ trials-passed 1) 
+x2)) 
+
+(else 
+
+(iter (- trials-remaining 1) 
+trials-passed 
+x2)))))) 
+(iter trials 0 initial-x)) 
+
+While the program is still simple, it betrays some painful breaches of 
+modularity. In our first version of the program, using rand, we can ex- 
+press the Monte Carlo method directly as a general monte-carlo proce- 
+dure that takes as an argument an arbitrary experiment procedure. In 
+our second version of the program, with no local state for the random- 
+number generator, random-gcd-test must explicitly manipulate the ran- 
+dom numbers x1 and x2 and recycle x2 through the iterative loop as 
+the new input to rand-update. This explicit handling of the random 
+
+
+
+308 
+
+
+
+numbers intertwines the structure of accumulating test results with the 
+fact that our particular experiment uses two random numbers, whereas 
+other Monte Carlo experiments might use one random number or three. 
+Even the top-level procedure estimate-pi has to be concerned with 
+supplying an initial random number. The fact that the random-number 
+generator's insides are leaking out into other parts of the program makes 
+it difficult for us to isolate the Monte Carlo idea so that it can be applied 
+to other tasks. In the first version of the program, assignment encapsu- 
+lates the state of the random-number generator within the rand proce- 
+dure, so that the details of random-number generation remain indepen- 
+dent of the rest of the program. 
+
+The general phenomenon illustrated by the Monte Carlo example is 
+this: From the point of view of one part of a complex process, the other 
+parts appear to change with time. They have hidden time-varying local 
+state. If we wish to write computer programs whose structure reflects 
+this decomposition, we make computational objects (such as bank ac- 
+counts and random-number generators) whose behavior changes with 
+time. We model state with local state variables, and we model the changes 
+of state with assignments to those variables. 
+
+It is tempting to conclude this discussion by saying that, by intro- 
+ducing assignment and the technique of hiding state in local variables, 
+we are able to structure systems in a more modular fashion than if all 
+state had to be manipulated explicitly, by passing additional parameters. 
+Unfortunately, as we shall see, the story is not so simple. 
+
+Exercise 3.5: Monte Carlo integration is a method of esti- 
+mating definite integrals by means of Monte Carlo simula- 
+tion. Consider computing the area of a region of space de- 
+scribed by a predicate P(x, y) that is true for points (x, y) 
+in the region and false for points not in the region. For 
+
+
+
+309 
+
+
+
+example, the region contained within a circle of radius 3 
+centered at (5, 7) is described by the predicate that tests 
+whether (x - 5) 2 + (y- 7) 2 < 3 2 . To estimate the area of the 
+region described by such a predicate, begin by choosing a 
+rectangle that contains the region. For example, a rectangle 
+with diagonally opposite corners at (2, 4) and (8, 10) con- 
+tains the circle above. The desired integral is the area of 
+that portion of the rectangle that lies in the region. We can 
+estimate the integral by picking, at random, points (x,y) 
+that lie in the rectangle, and testing P(x, y) for each point 
+to determine whether the point lies in the region. If we try 
+this with many points, then the fraction of points that fall 
+in the region should give an estimate of the proportion of 
+the rectangle that lies in the region. Hence, multiplying this 
+fraction by the area of the entire rectangle should produce 
+an estimate of the integral. 
+
+Implement Monte Carlo integration as aprocedure estimate- 
+integral that takes as arguments a predicate P, upper and 
+lower bounds x1, x2, y1, and y2 for the rectangle, and the 
+number of trials to perform in order to produce the esti- 
+mate. Your procedure should use the same monte-carlo 
+procedure that was used above to estimate n. Use your estimate- 
+integral to produce an estimate of n by measuring the 
+area of a unit circle. 
+
+You will find it useful to have a procedure that returns a 
+number chosen at random from a given range. The follow- 
+ing random-in-range procedure implements this in terms 
+of the random procedure used in Section 1.2.6, which re- 
+
+
+
+310 
+
+
+
+turns a nonnegative number less than its input. 8 
+
+(define (random-in-range low high) 
+(let ((range (- high low))) 
+(+ low (random range)))) 
+
+Exercise 3.6: It is useful to be able to reset a random-number 
+generator to produce a sequence starting from a given value. 
+Design a new rand procedure that is called with an ar- 
+gument that is either the symbol generate or the symbol 
+reset and behaves as follows: (rand 'generate) produces 
+a new random number; ((rand 'reset) (new-value)) re- 
+sets the internal state variable to the designated (new-value). 
+Thus, by resetting the state, one can generate repeatable se- 
+quences. These are very handy to have when testing and 
+debugging programs that use random numbers. 
+
+3.1.3 The Costs of Introducing Assignment 
+
+As we have seen, the set! operation enables us to model objects that 
+have local state. However, this advantage comes at a price. Our pro- 
+gramming language can no longer be interpreted in terms of the sub- 
+stitution model of procedure application that we introduced in Section 
+1.1.5. Moreover, no simple model with "nice" mathematical properties 
+can be an adequate framework for dealing with objects and assignment 
+in programming languages. 
+
+So long as we do not use assignments, two evaluations of the same 
+procedure with the same arguments will produce the same result, so 
+
+8 mit Scheme provides such a procedure. If random is given an exact integer (as in 
+Section 1.2.6) it returns an exact integer, but if it is given a decimal value (as in this 
+exercise) it returns a decimal value. 
+
+
+
+311 
+
+
+
+that procedures can be viewed as computing mathematical functions. 
+Programming without any use of assignments, as we did throughout 
+the first two chapters of this book, is accordingly known as functional 
+programming. 
+
+To understand how assignment complicates matters, consider a sim- 
+plified version of the make-withdraw procedure of Section 3.1.1 that 
+does not bother to check for an insufficient amount: 
+
+(define (make-simplif ied-withdraw balance) 
+(lambda (amount) 
+
+(set! balance (- balance amount)) 
+balance)) 
+
+(define W (make-simplif ied-withdraw 25)) 
+
+(W 20) 
+
+5 
+
+(W 10) 
+-5 
+
+Compare this procedure with the following make-decrementer proce- 
+dure, which does not use set ! : 
+
+(define (make-decrementer balance) 
+(lambda (amount) 
+
+(- balance amount))) 
+
+Make-decrementer returns a procedure that subtracts its input from a 
+designated amount balance, but there is no accumulated effect over 
+successive calls, as with make-simplif ied-withdraw: 
+
+(define D (make-decrementer 25)) 
+
+(D 20) 
+
+5 
+
+(D 10) 
+75 
+
+
+
+312 
+
+
+
+We can use the substitution model to explain how make-decrementer 
+works. For instance, let us analyze the evaluation of the expression 
+
+((make-decrementer 25) 20) 
+
+We first simplify the operator of the combination by substituting 25 for 
+balance in the body of make-decrementer. This reduces the expression 
+to 
+
+((lambda (amount) (- 25 amount)) 20) 
+
+Now we apply the operator by substituting 20 for amount in the body 
+of the lambda expression: 
+
+(- 25 20) 
+
+The final answer is 5. 
+
+Observe, however, what happens if we attempt a similar substitution 
+analysis with make-simplif ied-withdraw: 
+
+( (make-simplif ied-withdraw 25) 20) 
+
+We first simplify the operator by substituting 25 for balance in the body 
+of make-simplif ied-withdraw. This reduces the expression to 9 
+
+((lambda (a mount) (set! balance (- 25 amount)) 25) 20) 
+
+Now we apply the operator by substituting 20 for amount in the body 
+of the lambda expression: 
+
+(set! balance (- 25 20)) 25 
+
+If we adhered to the substitution model, we would have to say that the 
+meaning of the procedure application is to first set balance to 5 and then 
+
+'We don't substitute for the occurrence of balance in the set ! expression because 
+the (name) in a set ! is not evaluated. If we did substitute for it, we would get (set ! 
+25 (- 25 amount)), which makes no sense. 
+
+
+
+313 
+
+
+
+return 25 as the value of the expression. This gets the wrong answer. In 
+order to get the correct answer, we would have to somehow distinguish 
+the first occurrence of balance (before the effect of the set!) from the 
+second occurrence of balance (after the effect of the set!), and the 
+substitution model cannot do this. 
+
+The trouble here is that substitution is based ultimately on the no- 
+tion that the symbols in our language are essentially names for values. 
+But as soon as we introduce set ! and the idea that the value of a vari- 
+able can change, a variable can no longer be simply a name. Now a 
+variable somehow refers to a place where a value can be stored, and the 
+value stored at this place can change. In Section 3.2 we will see how 
+environments play this role of "place" in our computational model. 
+
+Sameness and change 
+
+The issue surfacing here is more profound than the mere breakdown of 
+a particular model of computation. As soon as we introduce change into 
+our computational models, many notions that were previously straight- 
+forward become problematical. Consider the concept of two things be- 
+ing "the same." 
+
+Suppose we call make-decrementer twice with the same argument 
+to create two procedures: 
+
+(define D1 (make-decrementer 25)) 
+(define D2 (make-decrementer 25)) 
+
+Are D1 and D2 the same? An acceptable answer is yes, because D1 and D2 
+have the same computational behavior— each is a procedure that sub- 
+tracts its input from 25. In fact, D1 could be substituted for D2 in any 
+computation without changing the result. 
+
+Contrast this with making two callstomake-simplified-withdraw: 
+
+
+
+314 
+
+
+
+(define W1 (make-simplif ied-withdraw 25)) 
+(define W2 (make-simplif ied-withdraw 25)) 
+
+Are Wl and W2 the same? Surely not, because calls to W1 and W2 have 
+distinct effects, as shown by the following sequence of interactions: 
+
+(W1 20) 
+5 
+
+(W1 20) 
+-75 
+
+(W2 20) 
+5 
+
+Even though Wl and W2 are "equal" in the sense that they are both cre- 
+ated by evaluating the same expression, (make-simplif ied-withdraw 
+25), it is not true that W1 could be substituted for W2 in any expression 
+without changing the result of evaluating the expression. 
+
+A language that supports the concept that "equals can be substituted 
+for equals" in an expression without changing the value of the expres- 
+sion is said to be referentially transparent. Referential transparency is 
+violated when we include set! in our computer language. This makes 
+it tricky to determine when we can simplify expressions by substituting 
+equivalent expressions. Consequently, reasoning about programs that 
+use assignment becomes drastically more difficult. 
+
+Once we forgo referential transparency, the notion of what it means 
+for computational objects to be "the same" becomes difficult to capture 
+in a formal way. Indeed, the meaning of "same" in the real world that our 
+programs model is hardly clear in itself. In general, we can determine 
+that two apparently identical objects are indeed "the same one" only by 
+modifying one object and then observing whether the other object has 
+changed in the same way. But how can we tell if an object has "changed" 
+other than by observing the "same" object twice and seeing whether 
+
+
+
+315 
+
+
+
+some property of the object differs from one observation to the next? 
+Thus, we cannot determine "change" without some a priori notion of 
+"sameness," and we cannot determine sameness without observing the 
+effects of change. 
+
+As an example of how this issue arises in programming, consider 
+the situation where Peter and Paul have a bank account with $100 in it. 
+There is a substantial difference between modeling this as 
+
+(define peter-acc (make-account 100)) 
+(define paul-acc (make-account 100)) 
+
+and modeling it as 
+
+(define peter-acc (make-account 100)) 
+(define paul-acc peter-acc) 
+
+In the first situation, the two bank accounts are distinct. Transactions 
+made by Peter will not affect Paul's account, and vice versa. In the sec- 
+ond situation, however, we have defined paul-acc to be the same thing 
+as peter-acc. In effect, Peter and Paul now have a joint bank account, 
+and if Peter makes a withdrawal from peter-acc Paul will observe less 
+money in paul-acc. These two similar but distinct situations can cause 
+confusion in building computational models. With the shared account, 
+in particular, it can be especially confusing that there is one object (the 
+bank account) that has two different names (peter-acc and paul-acc); 
+if we are searching for all the places in our program where paul-acc 
+can be changed, we must remember to look also at things that change 
+peter-acc. 10 
+
+10 The phenomenon of a single computational object being accessed by more than one 
+name is known as aliasing. The joint bank account situation illustrates a very simple 
+example of an alias. In Section 3.3 we will see much more complex examples, such as 
+"distinct" compound data structures that share parts. Bugs can occur in our programs 
+
+
+
+316 
+
+
+
+With reference to the above remarks on "sameness" and "change," 
+observe that if Peter and Paul could only examine their bank balances, 
+and could not perform operations that changed the balance, then the is- 
+sue of whether the two accounts are distinct would be moot. In general, 
+so long as we never modify data objects, we can regard a compound 
+data object to be precisely the totality of its pieces. For example, a ratio- 
+nal number is determined by giving its numerator and its denominator. 
+But this view is no longer valid in the presence of change, where a com- 
+pound data object has an "identity" that is something different from the 
+pieces of which it is composed. A bank account is still "the same" bank 
+account even if we change the balance by making a withdrawal; con- 
+versely, we could have two different bank accounts with the same state 
+information. This complication is a consequence, not of our program- 
+ming language, but of our perception of a bank account as an object. We 
+do not, for example, ordinarily regard a rational number as a change- 
+able object with identity, such that we could change the numerator and 
+still have "the same" rational number. 
+
+Pitfalls of imperative programming 
+
+In contrast to functional programming, programming that makes ex- 
+tensive use of assignment is known as imperative programming. In ad- 
+dition to raising complications about computational models, programs 
+written in imperative style are susceptible to bugs that cannot occur in 
+functional programs. For example, recall the iterative factorial program 
+
+if we forget that a change to an object may also, as a "side effect," change a "different" 
+object because the two "different" objects are actually a single object appearing under 
+different aliases. These so-called side-effect bugs are so difficult to locate and to analyze 
+that some people have proposed that programming languages be designed in such a 
+way as to not allow side effects or aliasing (Lampson et al. 1981; Morris et al. 1980). 
+
+
+
+317 
+
+
+
+from Section 1.2.1: 
+
+(define (factorial n) 
+
+(define (iter product counter) 
+(if (> counter n) 
+product 
+
+(iter (* counter product) (+ counter 1)))) 
+(iter 1 1)) 
+
+Instead of passing arguments in the internal iterative loop, we could 
+adopt a more imperative style by using explicit assignment to update 
+the values of the variables product and counter: 
+
+(define (factorial n) 
+(let ((product 1) 
+(counter 1)) 
+(define (iter) 
+(if (> counter n) 
+product 
+
+(begin (set! product (* counter product)) 
+(set! counter (+ counter 1)) 
+(iter)))) 
+
+(iter))) 
+
+This does not change the results produced by the program, but it does 
+introduce a subtle trap. How do we decide the order of the assignments? 
+As it happens, the program is correct as written. But writing the assign- 
+ments in the opposite order 
+
+(set! counter (+ counter 1)) 
+(set! product (* counter product)) 
+
+would have produced a different, incorrect result. In general, program- 
+ming with assignment forces us to carefully consider the relative orders 
+of the assignments to make sure that each statement is using the correct 
+
+
+
+318 
+
+
+
+version of the variables that have been changed. This issue simply does 
+not arise in functional programs. 11 
+
+The complexity of imperative programs becomes even worse if we 
+consider applications in which several processes execute concurrently. 
+We will return to this in Section 3.4. First, however, we will address the 
+issue of providing a computational model for expressions that involve 
+assignment, and explore the uses of objects with local state in designing 
+simulations. 
+
+Exercise 3.7: Consider the bank account objects created by 
+make-account, with the password modification described 
+in Exercise 3.3. Suppose that our banking system requires 
+the ability to make joint accounts. Define a procedure make- 
+joint that accomplishes this. Make- joint should take three 
+arguments. The first is a password-protected account. The 
+second argument must match the password with which the 
+account was defined in order for the make- joint operation 
+to proceed. The third argument is a new password. Make- 
+joint is to create an additional access to the original ac- 
+count using the new password. For example, if peter-acc 
+is a bank account with password open-sesame, then 
+
+(define paul-acc 
+
+(make-joint peter-acc 'open-sesame 'rosebud)) 
+
+n In view of this, it is ironic that introductory programming is most often taught 
+in a highly imperative style. This may be a vestige of a belief, common throughout 
+the 1960s and 1970s, that programs that call procedures must inherently be less effi- 
+cient than programs that perform assignments. (Steele 1977 debunks this argument.) 
+Alternatively it may reflect a view that step-by-step assignment is easier for beginners 
+to visualize than procedure call. Whatever the reason, it often saddles beginning pro- 
+grammers with "should I set this variable before or after that one" concerns that can 
+complicate programming and obscure the important ideas. 
+
+
+
+319 
+
+
+
+will allow one to make transactions on peter-acc using the 
+name paul-acc and the password rosebud. You may wish 
+to modify your solution to Exercise 3.3 to accommodate this 
+new feature. 
+
+Exercise 3.8: When we defined the evaluation model in 
+Section 1.1.3, we said that the first step in evaluating an 
+expression is to evaluate its subexpressions. But we never 
+specified the order in which the subexpressions should be 
+evaluated (e.g., left to right or right to left). When we in- 
+troduce assignment, the order in which the arguments to a 
+procedure are evaluated can make a difference to the result. 
+Define a simple procedure f such that evaluating 
+
+(+ (f 0) (f 1)) 
+
+will return 0 if the arguments to + are evaluated from left to 
+right but will return 1 if the arguments are evaluated from 
+right to left. 
+
+3.2 The Environment Model of Evaluation 
+
+When we introduced compound procedures in Chapter 1, we used the 
+substitution model of evaluation (Section 1.1.5) to define what is meant 
+by applying a procedure to arguments: 
+
+• To apply a compound procedure to arguments, evaluate the body 
+of the procedure with each formal parameter replaced by the cor- 
+responding argument. 
+
+Once we admit assignment into our programming language, such a def- 
+inition is no longer adequate. In particular, Section 3.1.3 argued that, in 
+
+
+
+320 
+
+
+
+the presence of assignment, a variable can no longer be considered to be 
+merely a name for a value. Rather, a variable must somehow designate 
+a "place" in which values can be stored. In our new model of evaluation, 
+these places will be maintained in structures called environments. 
+
+An environment is a sequence of frames. Each frame is a table (pos- 
+sibly empty) of bindings, which associate variable names with their cor- 
+responding values. (A single frame may contain at most one binding 
+for any variable.) Each frame also has a pointer to its enclosing environ- 
+ment, unless, for the purposes of discussion, the frame is considered to 
+be global. The value of a variable with respect to an environment is the 
+value given by the binding of the variable in the first frame in the en- 
+vironment that contains a binding for that variable. If no frame in the 
+sequence specifies a binding for the variable, then the variable is said to 
+be unbound in the environment. 
+
+Figure 3.1 shows a simple environment structure consisting of three 
+frames, labeled I, II, and III. In the diagram, A, B, C, and D are pointers to 
+environments. C and D point to the same environment. The variables z 
+and x are bound in frame II, while y and x are bound in frame I. The value 
+of x in environment D is 3. The value of x with respect to environment 
+B is also 3. This is determined as follows: We examine the first frame in 
+the sequence (frame III) and do not find a binding for x, so we proceed 
+to the enclosing environment D and find the binding in frame I. On the 
+other hand, the value of x in environment A is 7, because the first frame 
+in the sequence (frame II) contains a binding of x to 7. With respect to 
+environment A, the binding of x to 7 in frame II is said to shadow the 
+binding of x to 3 in frame I. 
+
+The environment is crucial to the evaluation process, because it de- 
+termines the context in which an expression should be evaluated. In- 
+deed, one could say that expressions in a programming language do 
+
+
+
+321 
+
+
+
+
+
+I 
+
+x:3 
+y:5 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+C 
+
+
+
+
+D 
+
+
+
+
+■ 
+
+II 
+
+z:6 
+x:7 
+
+
+■ 
+
+
+
+
+III 
+
+m:1 
+
+y:2 
+
+
+
+A B 
+Figure 3.T: A simple environment structure. 
+
+not, in themselves, have any meaning. Rather, an expression acquires a 
+meaning only with respect to some environment in which it is evalu- 
+ated. Even the interpretation of an expression as straightforward as (+ 
+1 1 ) depends on an understanding that one is operating in a context in 
+which + is the symbol for addition. Thus, in our model of evaluation we 
+will always speak of evaluating an expression with respect to some envi- 
+ronment. To describe interactions with the interpreter, we will suppose 
+that there is a global environment, consisting of a single frame (with no 
+enclosing environment) that includes values for the symbols associated 
+with the primitive procedures. For example, the idea that + is the sym- 
+bol for addition is captured by saying that the symbol + is bound in the 
+global environment to the primitive addition procedure. 
+
+3.2.1 The Rules for Evaluation 
+
+The overall specification of how the interpreter evaluates a combination 
+remains the same as when we first introduced it in Section 1.1.3: 
+
+
+
+322 
+
+
+
+• To evaluate a combination: 
+
+1. Evaluate the subexpressions of the combination. 12 
+
+2. Apply the value of the operator subexpression to the values of the 
+operand subexpressions. 
+
+The environment model of evaluation replaces the substitution model in 
+specifying what it means to apply a compound procedure to arguments. 
+
+In the environment model of evaluation, a procedure is always a pair 
+consisting of some code and a pointer to an environment. Procedures 
+are created in one way only: by evaluating a Ji-expression. This produces 
+a procedure whose code is obtained from the text of the ^-expression 
+and whose environment is the environment in which the ^-expression 
+was evaluated to produce the procedure. For example, consider the pro- 
+cedure definition 
+
+(define (square x) 
+
+(* x x)) 
+
+evaluated in the global environment. The procedure definition syntax 
+is just syntactic sugar for an underlying implicit ^-expression. It would 
+have been equivalent to have used 
+
+(define square 
+
+(lambda (x) (* x x))) 
+
+12 Assignment introduces a subtlety into step 1 of the evaluation rule. As shown in 
+Exercise 3.8, the presence of assignment allows us to write expressions that will produce 
+different values depending on the order in which the subexpressions in a combination 
+are evaluated. Thus, to be precise, we should specify an evaluation order in step 1 (e.g., 
+left to right or right to left). However, this order should always be considered to be 
+an implementation detail, and one should never write programs that depend on some 
+particular order. For instance, a sophisticated compiler might optimize a program by 
+varying the order in which subexpressions are evaluated. 
+
+
+
+323 
+
+
+
+other variables 
+square : — . 
+
+(define (square x) 
+
+
+
+(* x x)) 
+
+
+
+
+parameters: x 
+body: (* x x) 
+
+Figure 3.2: Environment structure produced by evaluating 
+(define (square x) (* x x)) in the global environment. 
+
+which evaluates (lambda (x) (* x x)) and binds square to the re- 
+sulting value, all in the global environment. 
+
+Figure 3.2 shows the result of evaluating this define expression. 
+The procedure object is a pair whose code specifies that the procedure 
+has one formal parameter, namely x, and a procedure body (* x x). 
+The environment part of the procedure is a pointer to the global envi- 
+ronment, since that is the environment in which the ^-expression was 
+evaluated to produce the procedure. A new binding, which associates 
+the procedure object with the symbol square, has been added to the 
+global frame. In general, define creates definitions by adding bindings 
+to frames. 
+
+Now that we have seen how procedures are created, we can describe 
+how procedures are applied. The environment model specifies: To ap- 
+ply a procedure to arguments, create a new environment containing a 
+frame that binds the parameters to the values of the arguments. The en- 
+closing environment of this frame is the environment specified by the 
+
+
+
+global 
+env 
+
+
+
+324 
+
+
+
+global 
+
+
+other variables 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+• 
+
+
+env 
+
+
+square : — . 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+(square 5) 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+©J 
+
+
+E1 - 
+
+
+x:5 
+
+■ - 
+
+
+
+' (* x x) 
+
+parameters: x 
+
+body: (* x x) 
+
+
+
+Figure 3.3: Environment created by evaluating (square 5) 
+in the global environment. 
+
+procedure. Now, within this new environment, evaluate the procedure 
+body. 
+
+To show how this rule is followed, Figure 3.3 illustrates the environ- 
+ment structure created by evaluating the expression (square 5) in the 
+global environment, where square is the procedure generated in Figure 
+3.2. Applying the procedure results in the creation of a new environ- 
+ment, labeled El in the figure, that begins with a frame in which x, the 
+formal parameter for the procedure, is bound to the argument 5. The 
+pointer leading upward from this frame shows that the frame's enclos- 
+ing environment is the global environment. The global environment is 
+chosen here, because this is the environment that is indicated as part 
+of the square procedure object. Within El, we evaluate the body of the 
+procedure, (* x x). Since the value of x in El is 5, the result is (* 5 
+5), or 25. 
+
+The environment model of procedure application can be summa- 
+rized by two rules: 
+
+
+
+325 
+
+
+
+• A procedure object is applied to a set of arguments by construct- 
+ing a frame, binding the formal parameters of the procedure to the 
+arguments of the call, and then evaluating the body of the proce- 
+dure in the context of the new environment constructed. The new 
+frame has as its enclosing environment the environment part of 
+the procedure object being applied. 
+
+• A procedure is created by evaluating a Ji-expression relative to a 
+given environment. The resulting procedure object is a pair con- 
+sisting of the text of the Ji-expression and a pointer to the envi- 
+ronment in which the procedure was created. 
+
+We also specify that defining a symbol using define creates a binding 
+in the current environment frame and assigns to the symbol the indi- 
+cated value. 13 Finally, we specify the behavior of set!, the operation 
+that forced us to introduce the environment model in the first place. 
+Evaluating the expression (set! (variable) (value)) in some environ- 
+ment locates the binding of the variable in the environment and changes 
+that binding to indicate the new value. That is, one finds the first frame 
+in the environment that contains a binding for the variable and modi- 
+fies that frame. If the variable is unbound in the environment, then set ! 
+signals an error. 
+
+These evaluation rules, though considerably more complex than the 
+substitution model, are still reasonably straightforward. Moreover, the 
+evaluation model, though abstract, provides a correct description of 
+
+13 If there is already a binding for the variable in the current frame, then the binding is 
+changed. This is convenient because it allows redefinition of symbols; however, it also 
+means that define can be used to change values, and this brings up the issues of assign- 
+ment without explicitly using set ! . Because of this, some people prefer redefinitions 
+of existing symbols to signal errors or warnings. 
+
+
+
+326 
+
+
+
+how the interpreter evaluates expressions. In Chapter 4 we shall see 
+how this model can serve as a blueprint for implementing a working 
+interpreter. The following sections elaborate the details of the model by 
+analyzing some illustrative programs. 
+
+3.2.2 Applying Simple Procedures 
+
+When we introduced the substitution model in Section 1.1.5 we showed 
+how the combination (f 5) evaluates to 136, given the following pro- 
+cedure definitions: 
+
+(define (square x) 
+
+(* x x)) 
+(define (sum-of-squares x y) 
+
+(+ (square x) (square y))) 
+(define (f a) 
+
+(sum-of-squares (+ a 1) (* a 2))) 
+
+We can analyze the same example using the environment model. Figure 
+3.4 shows the three procedure objects created by evaluating the defini- 
+tions of f, square, and sum-of-squares in the global environment. Each 
+procedure object consists of some code, together with a pointer to the 
+global environment. 
+
+In Figure 3.5 we see the environment structure created by evaluat- 
+ing the expression (f 5). The call to f creates a new environment El 
+beginning with a frame in which a, the formal parameter of f , is bound 
+to the argument 5. In El, we evaluate the body of f: 
+
+(sum-of-squares (+ a 1) (* a 2)) 
+
+To evaluate this combination, we first evaluate the subexpressions. The 
+first subexpression, sum-of-squares, has a value that is a procedure ob- 
+ject. (Notice how this value is found: We first look in the first frame of 
+
+
+
+327 
+
+
+
+global 
+env 
+
+
+
+sum-of-squares : 
+
+square: 
+
+f :- 
+
+
+
+parameters: a 
+
+body: (sum-of-squares 
+
+(+ a 1) 
+
+C* a 2)) 
+
+
+
+®& GX^ 
+
+
+
+parameters: x 
+body: (* x x) 
+
+
+
+parameters: x , y 
+body: (+ (square x) 
+(square y)) 
+
+
+
+Figure 3.4: Procedure objects in the global frame. 
+
+
+
+El, which contains no binding for sum-of-squares. Then we proceed 
+to the enclosing environment, i.e. the global environment, and find the 
+binding shown in Figure 3.4.) The other two subexpressions are evalu- 
+ated by applying the primitive operations + and * to evaluate the two 
+combinations (+ a 1 ) and (* a 2) to obtain 6 and 10, respectively. 
+
+Now we apply the procedure object sum-of-squares to the argu- 
+ments 6 and 10. This results in a new environment E2 in which the 
+formal parameters x and y are bound to the arguments. Within E2 we 
+evaluate the combination (+ (square x) (square y)). This leads us to 
+evaluate (square x), where square is found in the global frame and x 
+is 6. Once again, we set up a new environment, E3, in which x is bound 
+to 6, and within this we evaluate the body of square, which is (* x x). 
+Also as part of applying sum-of-squares, we must evaluate the subex- 
+pression (square y), where y is 10. This second call to square creates 
+another environment, E4, in which x, the formal parameter of square, 
+
+
+
+328 
+
+
+
+global 
+env 
+
+(f 5) 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+f > 
+
+
+
+
+f > 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+E1 ► 
+
+
+a:5 
+
+J 
+
+
+E2^ 
+
+
+x:6 
+y:10 
+
+
+E3^ 
+
+
+x:6 
+
+V J 
+
+
+E4^- 
+
+
+x:10 
+
+
+
+(sum-of-squares (+ (square x) (* x x) (* x x) 
+
+(+ a 1 ) (square y)) 
+
+(* a 2)) 
+
+
+
+Figure 3.5: Environments created by evaluating (f 5) us- 
+ing the procedures in Figure 3.4. 
+
+
+
+is bound to 10. And within E4 we must evaluate (* x x). 
+
+The important point to observe is that each call to square creates a 
+new environment containing a binding for x. We can see here how the 
+different frames serve to keep separate the different local variables all 
+named x. Notice that each frame created by square points to the global 
+environment, since this is the environment indicated by the square pro- 
+cedure object. 
+
+After the subexpressions are evaluated, the results are returned. The 
+values generated by the two calls to square are added by sum-of-squares, 
+and this result is returned by f . Since our focus here is on the environ- 
+ment structures, we will not dwell on how these returned values are 
+passed from call to call; however, this is also an important aspect of the 
+evaluation process, and we will return to it in detail in Chapter 5. 
+
+Exercise 3.9: In Section 1.2.1 we used the substitution model 
+to analyze two procedures for computing factorials, a recur- 
+
+
+
+329 
+
+
+
+sive version 
+
+
+
+(define (factorial n) 
+
+(if (= n 1) 1 (* n (factorial (- n 1))))) 
+
+and an iterative version 
+
+(define (factorial n) (fact-iter 1 1 n)) 
+(define (fact-iter product counter max-count) 
+(if (> counter max-count) 
+product 
+
+(fact-iter (* counter product) 
+(+ counter 1) 
+max-count))) 
+
+Show the environment structures created by evaluating 
+(factorial 6) using each version of the factorial pro- 
+cedure. 14 
+
+3.2.3 Frames as the Repository of Local State 
+
+We can turn to the environment model to see how procedures and as- 
+signment can be used to represent objects with local state. As an exam- 
+ple, consider the "withdrawal processor" from Section 3.1.1 created by 
+calling the procedure 
+
+(define (make-withdraw balance) 
+(lambda (amount) 
+
+(if (>= balance amount) 
+
+(begin (set! balance (- balance amount)) 
+
+14 The environment model will not clarify our claim in Section 1.2.1 that the inter- 
+preter can execute a procedure such as fact-iter in a constant amount of space using 
+tail recursion. We will discuss tail recursion when we deal with the control structure 
+of the interpreter in Section 5.4. 
+
+
+
+330 
+
+
+
+global 
+env 
+
+
+make-withdraw: « 
+
+
+
+
+paramete 
+
+
+0 
+
+rs: balance 
+
+
+©J 
+
+
+
+
+
+body: (lambda (amount) 
+
+(if (>= balance amount) 
+
+(begin (set! balance (— balance amount)) 
+
+balance) 
+"insufficient funds")) 
+
+Figure 3.6: Result of defining make-withdraw in the global 
+environment. 
+
+balance) 
+"Insufficient funds"))) 
+
+Let us describe the evaluation of 
+
+(define W1 (make-withdraw 100)) 
+
+followed by 
+
+(W1 50) 
+50 
+
+Figure 3.6 shows the result of defining the make-withdraw procedure in 
+the global environment. This produces a procedure object that contains 
+a pointer to the global environment. So far, this is no different from the 
+examples we have already seen, except that the body of the procedure 
+is itself a ^.-expression. 
+
+
+
+331 
+
+
+
+global 
+env 
+
+
+
+make-withdraw: 
+W1 : 
+
+
+
+E1 
+
+
+
+balance: 1( 
+
+
+
+parameters: amount 
+body: (if (>= balance amount) 
+
+(begin (set! balance (- balance amount)) 
+balance) 
+
+"insufficient funds") 
+
+
+
+parameters: balance 
+body: . . . 
+
+
+
+Figure 3.7: Result of evaluating (define W1 (make-withdraw 100)). 
+
+
+
+The interesting part of the computation happens when we apply the 
+procedure make-withdraw to an argument: 
+
+(define W1 (make-withdraw 100)) 
+
+We begin, as usual, by setting up an environment El in which the formal 
+parameter balance is bound to the argument 100. Within this environ- 
+ment, we evaluate the body of make-withdraw, namely the Ji-expression. 
+This constructs a new procedure object, whose code is as specified by 
+the lambda and whose environment is El, the environment in which 
+the lambda was evaluated to produce the procedure. The resulting pro- 
+cedure object is the value returned by the call to make-withdraw. This 
+is bound to W1 in the global environment, since the define itself is be- 
+ing evaluated in the global environment. Figure 3.7 shows the resulting 
+environment structure. 
+
+
+
+332 
+
+
+
+E1 — >• balance : 1 ( 
+
+
+
+Here is the balance 
+that will be changed 
+by the set! 
+
+
+
+amount: 50 
+
+
+
+parameters: amount 
+body: . . . 
+
+
+
+(if (>= balance amount) 
+(begin (set! balance 
+
+(- balance amount)) 
+balance) 
+"insufficient funds") 
+
+
+
+Figure 3.8: Environments created by applying the procedure object W1 . 
+
+Now we can analyze what happens when W1 is applied to an argu- 
+ment: 
+
+(W1 50) 
+50 
+
+We begin by constructing a frame in which amount, the formal pa- 
+rameter of W1, is bound to the argument 50. The crucial point to ob- 
+serve is that this frame has as its enclosing environment not the global 
+environment, but rather the environment El, because this is the envi- 
+ronment that is specified by the W1 procedure object. Within this new 
+environment, we evaluate the body of the procedure: 
+
+(if (>= balance amount) 
+
+(begin (set! balance (- balance amount)) 
+
+balance) 
+"Insufficient funds") 
+
+333 
+
+
+
+global 
+env 
+
+
+
+make-withdraw: 
+W1 : 
+
+
+
+E1 
+
+
+
+balance: 50 
+
+
+
+ffi©- 
+
+
+
+parameters: amount 
+body: . . . 
+
+
+
+Figure 3.9: Environments after the call to W1 . 
+
+
+
+The resulting environment structure is shown in Figure 3.8. The expres- 
+sion being evaluated references both amount and balance. Amount will 
+be found in the first frame in the environment, while balance will be 
+found by following the enclosing-environment pointer to El. 
+
+When the set! is executed, the binding of balance in El is changed. 
+At the completion of the call to W1, balance is 50, and the frame that 
+contains balance is still pointed to by the procedure object W1. The 
+frame that binds amount (in which we executed the code that changed 
+balance) is no longer relevant, since the procedure call that constructed 
+it has terminated, and there are no pointers to that frame from other 
+parts of the environment. The next time W1 is called, this will build a 
+new frame that binds amount and whose enclosing environment is El. 
+We see that El serves as the "place" that holds the local state variable 
+for the procedure object W1 . Figure 3.9 shows the situation after the call 
+to W1. 
+
+Observe what happens when we create a second "withdraw" object 
+by making another call to make-withdraw: 
+
+334 
+
+
+
+global 
+env 
+
+
+
+make-withdraw: 
+
+W2: 
+
+W1 : 
+
+
+
+E1 
+
+
+
+balance: 50 
+
+
+
+E2- 
+
+
+
+balance: 1( 
+
+
+
+parameters: amount 
+body: . . . 
+
+Figure 3. TO: Using (define W2 (make-withdraw 100)) to 
+create a second object. 
+
+
+
+(define W2 (make-withdraw 100)) 
+
+This produces the environment structure of Figure 3.10, which shows 
+that W2 is a procedure object, that is, a pair with some code and an en- 
+vironment. The environment E2 for W2 was created by the call to make- 
+withdraw. It contains a frame with its own local binding for balance. 
+On the other hand, W1 and W2 have the same code: the code specified 
+by the ^.-expression in the body of make-withdraw. 15 We see here why 
+W1 and W2 behave as independent objects. Calls to W1 reference the state 
+variable balance stored in El, whereas calls to W2 reference the balance 
+stored in E2. Thus, changes to the local state of one object do not affect 
+the other object. 
+
+15 Whether W1 and W2 share the same physical code stored in the computer, or whether 
+they each keep a copy of the code, is a detail of the implementation. For the interpreter 
+we implement in Chapter 4, the code is in fact shared. 
+
+335 
+
+
+
+Exercise 3. TO: In the make-withdraw procedure, the local 
+variable balance is created as aparameter of make-withdraw. 
+We could also create the local state variable explicitly, us- 
+ing let, as follows: 
+
+(define (make-withdraw initial-amount) 
+(let ((balance initial-amount)) 
+(lambda (amount) 
+
+(if (>= balance amount) 
+
+(begin (set! balance (- balance amount)) 
+
+balance) 
+"Insufficient funds")))) 
+
+Recall from Section 1.3.2 that let is simply syntactic sugar 
+for a procedure call: 
+
+(let (({van) <exp») (body)) 
+
+is interpreted as an alternate syntax for 
+((lambda ({var}) (body)) (exp)) 
+
+Use the environment model to analyze this alternate ver- 
+sion of make-withdraw, drawing figures like the ones above 
+to illustrate the interactions 
+
+(define W1 (make-withdraw 100)) 
+(W1 50) 
+
+(define W2 (make-withdraw 100)) 
+
+Show that the two versions of make-withdraw create ob- 
+jects with the same behavior. How do the environment struc- 
+tures differ for the two versions? 
+
+
+
+336 
+
+
+
+3.2.4 Internal Definitions 
+
+Section 1.1.8 introduced the idea that procedures can have internal def- 
+initions, thus leading to a block structure as in the following procedure 
+to compute square roots: 
+
+(define (sqrt x) 
+
+(define (good-enough? guess) 
+
+(< (abs (- (square guess) x)) 0.001)) 
+(define (improve guess) 
+
+(average guess (/ x guess))) 
+(define (sqrt-iter guess) 
+(if (good-enough? guess) 
+guess 
+
+(sqrt-iter (improve guess)))) 
+(sqrt-iter 1.0)) 
+
+Now we can use the environment model to see why these internal defi- 
+nitions behave as desired. Figure 3.11 shows the point in the evaluation 
+of the expression (sqrt 2) where the internal procedure good-enough? 
+has been called for the first time with guess equal to 1. 
+
+Observe the structure of the environment. Sqrt is a symbol in the 
+global environment that is bound to a procedure object whose associ- 
+ated environment is the global environment. When sqrt was called, a 
+new environment El was formed, subordinate to the global environ- 
+ment, in which the parameter x is bound to 2. The body of sqrt was 
+then evaluated in El. Since the first expression in the body of sqrt is 
+
+(define (good-enough? guess) 
+
+(< (abs (- (square guess) x)) 0.001)) 
+
+evaluating this expression defined the procedure good-enough? in the 
+environment El. To be more precise, the symbol good-enough? was 
+added to the first frame of El, bound to a procedure object whose asso- 
+
+
+
+337 
+
+
+
+global 
+env 
+
+
+
+sqrt : 
+
+
+
+E1 
+
+
+
+parameters: x 
+
+body: (define good-enough? . . 
+(define improve . . . ) 
+(define sqrt-iter ...) 
+(sqrt-iter 1 . 0) 
+
+
+
+x:2 
+
+good-enough? : 
+improve : ... 
+sqrt-iter : . . . 
+
+
+
+E2- 
+
+
+
+guess: 1 
+
+
+
+call to sqrt-iter 
+
+
+
+parameters: guess 
+body: (< (abs . . . ) 
+...) 
+
+
+
+E3- 
+
+
+
+guess: 1 
+
+
+
+call to good-enough? 
+Figure 3.T T: Sqrt procedure with internal definitions. 
+
+
+
+ciated environment is El. Similarly, improve and sqrt-iter were de- 
+fined as procedures in El. For conciseness, Figure 3.11 shows only the 
+procedure object for good-enough?. 
+
+After the local procedures were defined, the expression (sqrt-iter 
+1 .0) was evaluated, still in environment El. So the procedure object 
+bound to sqrt-iter in El was called with 1 as an argument. This cre- 
+ated an environment E2 in which guess, the parameter of sqrt-iter, 
+is bound to 1. Sqrt-iter in turn called good-enough? with the value of 
+guess (from E2) as the argument for good-enough?. This set up another 
+
+
+
+338 
+
+
+
+environment, E3, in which guess (the parameter of good-enough?) is 
+bound to 1. Although sqrt-iter and good-enough? both have a pa- 
+rameter named guess, these are two distinct local variables located in 
+different frames. Also, E2 and E3 both have El as their enclosing en- 
+vironment, because the sqrt-iter and good-enough? procedures both 
+have El as their environment part. One consequence of this is that the 
+symbol x that appears in the body of good-enough? will reference the 
+binding of x that appears in El, namely the value of x with which the 
+original sqrt procedure was called. 
+
+The environment model thus explains the two key properties that 
+make local procedure definitions a useful technique for modularizing 
+programs: 
+
+• The names of the local procedures do not interfere with names 
+external to the enclosing procedure, because the local procedure 
+names will be bound in the frame that the procedure creates when 
+it is run, rather than being bound in the global environment. 
+
+• The local procedures can access the arguments of the enclosing 
+procedure, simply by using parameter names as free variables. 
+This is because the body of the local procedure is evaluated in an 
+environment that is subordinate to the evaluation environment 
+for the enclosing procedure. 
+
+Exercise 3.TT: In Section 3.2.3 we saw how the environ- 
+ment model described the behavior of procedures with local 
+state. Now we have seen how internal definitions work. A 
+typical message-passing procedure contains both of these 
+aspects. Consider the bank account procedure of Section 
+3.1.1: 
+
+
+
+339 
+
+
+
+(define (make-account balance) 
+(define (withdraw amount) 
+(if (>= balance amount) 
+
+(begin (set! balance (- balance amount)) 
+
+balance) 
+"Insufficient funds")) 
+(define (deposit amount) 
+
+(set! balance (+ balance amount)) 
+balance) 
+(define (dispatch m) 
+
+(cond ((eq? m 'withdraw) withdraw) 
+((eq? m 'deposit) deposit) 
+(else 
+
+(error "Unknown request: MAKE-ACCOUNT" 
+m)))) 
+
+dispatch) 
+
+Show the environment structure generated by the sequence 
+of interactions 
+
+(define acc (make-account 50)) 
+((acc 'deposit) 40) 
+
+90 
+
+((acc 'withdraw) 60) 
+
+30 
+
+Where is the local state for acc kept? Suppose we define 
+another account 
+
+(define acc2 (make-account 100)) 
+
+How are the local states for the two accounts kept distinct? 
+Which parts of the environment structure are shared be- 
+tween acc and acc2? 
+
+
+
+340 
+
+
+
+3.3 Modeling with Mutable Data 
+
+
+
+Chapter 2 dealt with compound data as a means for constructing com- 
+putational objects that have several parts, in order to model real-world 
+objects that have several aspects. In that chapter we introduced the dis- 
+cipline of data abstraction, according to which data structures are spec- 
+ified in terms of constructors, which create data objects, and selectors, 
+which access the parts of compound data objects. But we now know 
+that there is another aspect of data that Chapter 2 did not address. The 
+desire to model systems composed of objects that have changing state 
+leads us to the need to modify compound data objects, as well as to con- 
+struct and select from them. In order to model compound objects with 
+changing state, we will design data abstractions to include, in addition 
+to selectors and constructors, operations called mutators, which mod- 
+ify data objects. For instance, modeling a banking system requires us to 
+change account balances. Thus, a data structure for representing bank 
+accounts might admit an operation 
+
+(set-balance! {account} {new-value}) 
+
+that changes the balance of the designated account to the designated 
+new value. Data objects for which mutators are defined are known as 
+mutable data objects. 
+
+Chapter 2 introduced pairs as a general-purpose "glue" for synthe- 
+sizing compound data. We begin this section by defining basic mutators 
+for pairs, so that pairs can serve as building blocks for constructing mu- 
+table data objects. These mutators greatly enhance the representational 
+power of pairs, enabling us to build data structures other than the se- 
+quences and trees that we worked with in Section 2.2. We also present 
+some examples of simulations in which complex systems are modeled 
+as collections of objects with local state. 
+
+
+
+341 
+
+
+
+3.3.1 Mutable List Structure 
+
+
+
+The basic operations on pairs— cons, car, and cdr— can be used to con- 
+struct list structure and to select parts from list structure, but they are 
+incapable of modifying list structure. The same is true of the list oper- 
+ations we have used so far, such as append and list, since these can 
+be defined in terms of cons, car, and cdr. To modify list structures we 
+need new operations. 
+
+The primitive mutators for pairs are set-car! and set-cdr!. Set- 
+car! takes two arguments, the first of which must be a pair. It modifies 
+this pair, replacing the car pointer by a pointer to the second argument 
+of set-car ! . 16 
+
+As an example, suppose that x is bound to the list ((a b) c d) and 
+y to the list (e f ) as illustrated in Figure 3.12. Evaluating the expression 
+(set-car ! x y) modifies the pair to which x is bound, replacing its car 
+by the value of y. The result of the operation is shown in Figure 3.13. 
+The structure x has been modified and would now be printed as ( (e f ) 
+c d ) . The pairs representing the list (a b ) , identified by the pointer that 
+was replaced, are now detached from the original structure. 17 
+
+Compare Figure 3.13 with Figure 3.14, which illustrates the result of 
+executing (define z (cons y (cdr x))) with x and y bound to the 
+original lists of Figure 3.12. The variable z is now bound to a new pair 
+created by the cons operation; the list to which x is bound is unchanged. 
+
+The set-cdr ! operation is similar to set-car ! . The only difference 
+is that the cdr pointer of the pair, rather than the ca r pointer, is replaced. 
+The effect of executing (set-cdr! x y) on the lists of Figure 3.12 is 
+
+16 Set-car ! and set-cdr ! return implementation-dependent values. Like set ! , they 
+should be used only for their effect. 
+
+17 We see from this that mutation operations on lists can create "garbage" that is 
+not part of any accessible structure. We will see in Section 5.3.2 that Lisp memory- 
+management systems include a garbage collector, which identifies and recycles the mem- 
+ory space used by unneeded pairs. 
+
+342 
+
+
+
+Figure 3. T2: Lists x: ( (a b) c d) and y: (e f). 
+
+
+
+X 
+
+
+
+
+71 
+
+
+
+Figure 3. T 3: Effect of (set-car! x y) on the lists in Figure 3.12. 
+
+
+
+343 
+
+
+
+Figure 3. T4: Effect of (define z (cons y (cdr x))) on 
+the lists in Figure 3.12. 
+
+
+
+c d 
+
+
+
+Figure 3. T5: Effect of (set-cdr! x y) on the lists in Figure 3.12. 
+
+
+
+344 
+
+
+
+shown in Figure 3.15. Here the cdr pointer of x has been replaced by 
+the pointer to (e f). Also, the list (c d), which used to be the cdr of 
+x, is now detached from the structure. 
+
+Cons builds new list structure by creating new pairs, while set -car ! 
+and set-cdr ! modify existing pairs. Indeed, we could implement cons 
+in terms of the two mutators, together with a procedure get-new-pai r, 
+which returns a new pair that is not part of any existing list structure. 
+We obtain the new pair, set its car and cdr pointers to the designated 
+objects, and return the new pair as the result of the cons. 18 
+
+(define (cons x y) 
+
+(let ((new (get-new-pair))) 
+(set-car! new x) 
+(set-cdr! new y) 
+new)) 
+
+Exercise 3.T2: The following procedure for appending lists 
+was introduced in Section 2.2.1: 
+
+(define (append x y) 
+(if (null? x) 
+
+y 
+
+(cons (car x) (append (cdr x) y)))) 
+
+Append forms a new list by successively consing the el- 
+ements of x onto y. The procedure append! is similar to 
+append, but it is a mutator rather than a constructor. It ap- 
+pends the lists by splicing them together, modifying the fi- 
+nal pair of x so that its cdr is now y. (It is an error to call 
+append ! with an empty x.) 
+
+18 Get-new-pair is one of the operations that must be implemented as part of the 
+memory management required by a Lisp implementation. We will discuss this in Sec- 
+tion 5.3.1. 
+
+
+
+345 
+
+
+
+(define (append! x y) 
+
+(set-cdr! (last-pair x) y) 
+
+x) 
+
+Here last-pair is a procedure that returns the last pair in 
+its argument: 
+
+(define (last-pair x) 
+
+(if (null? (cdr x)) x (last-pair (cdr x)))) 
+
+Consider the interaction 
+
+(define x (list 'a 'b)) 
+(define y (list 'c 'd)) 
+(define z (append x y)) 
+z 
+
+(abed) 
+(cdr x) 
+(response) 
+
+(define w (append! x y)) 
+w 
+
+(abed) 
+(cdr x) 
+(response) 
+
+What are the missing (response)s? Draw box-and-pointer 
+diagrams to explain your answer. 
+
+Exercise 3.T3: Consider the following make-cycle proce- 
+dure, which uses the last-pai r procedure defined in Exer- 
+cise 3.12: 
+
+(define (make-cycle x) 
+
+(set-cdr! (last-pair x) x) 
+
+x) 
+
+
+
+346 
+
+
+
+Draw a box-and-pointer diagram that shows the structure 
+z created by 
+
+(define z (make-cycle (list 'a 'b 'c))) 
+
+What happens if we try to compute (last-pair z)? 
+
+Exercise 3.T4: The following procedure is quite useful, al- 
+though obscure: 
+
+(define (mystery x) 
+(define (loop x y) 
+(if (null? x) 
+
+y 
+
+(let ((temp (cdr x))) 
+(set-cdr! x y) 
+(loop temp x)))) 
+(loop x '())) 
+
+Loop uses the "temporary" variable temp to hold the old 
+value of the cdr of x, since the set-cdr! on the next line 
+destroys the cdr. Explain what mystery does in general. 
+Suppose v is defined by (define v (list 'a 'b 'c 
+'d)). Draw the box-and-pointer diagram that represents 
+the list to which v is bound. Suppose that we now evalu- 
+ate (define w (mystery v)). Draw box-and-pointer dia- 
+grams that show the structures v and w after evaluating this 
+expression. What would be printed as the values of v and 
+w? 
+
+Sharing and identity 
+
+We mentioned in Section 3.1.3 the theoretical issues of "sameness" and 
+"change" raised by the introduction of assignment. These issues arise in 
+
+
+
+347 
+
+
+
+practice when individual pairs are shared among different data objects. 
+For example, consider the structure formed by 
+
+(define x (list 'a 'b)) 
+(define z1 (cons x x)) 
+
+As shown in Figure 3.16, z1 is a pair whose car and cdr both point to 
+the same pair x. This sharing of x by the car and cdr of z1 is a con- 
+sequence of the straightforward way in which cons is implemented. In 
+general, using cons to construct lists will result in an interlinked struc- 
+ture of pairs in which many individual pairs are shared by many differ- 
+ent structures. 
+
+In contrast to Figure 3.16, Figure 3.17 shows the structure created 
+
+by 
+
+(define z2 (cons (list 'a 'b) (list 'a 'b))) 
+
+In this structure, the pairs in the two (a b) lists are distinct, although 
+the actual symbols are shared. 19 
+
+When thought of as a list, z1 and z2 both represent "the same" list, 
+((a b) a b). In general, sharing is completely undetectable if we oper- 
+ate on lists using only cons, car, and cdr. However, if we allow mutators 
+on list structure, sharing becomes significant. As an example of the dif- 
+ference that sharing can make, consider the following procedure, which 
+modifies the car of the structure to which it is applied: 
+
+(define (set-to-wow! x) (set-car! (car x) 'wow) x) 
+
+
+
+The two pairs are distinct because each call to cons returns a new pair. The symbols 
+are shared; in Scheme there is a unique symbol with any given name. Since Scheme 
+provides no way to mutate a symbol, this sharing is undetectable. Note also that the 
+sharing is what enables us to compare symbols using eq?, which simply checks equality 
+of pointers. 
+
+
+
+348 
+
+
+
+Figure 3. T6: The list z1 formed by (cons x x). 
+
+
+
+z2 
+
+
+
+Lj_J j V 
+
+
+
+
+Figure 3.T7: The list z2 formed by (cons (list 
+(list 'a 'b)). 
+
+
+
+'b) 
+
+
+
+Even though z1 and z2 are "the same" structure, applying set-to-wow! 
+to them yields different results. With zl, altering the car also changes 
+the cdr, because in z1 the car and the cdr are the same pair. With z2, 
+the car and cdr are distinct, so set-to-wow! modifies only the car: 
+
+zl 
+
+((a b) a b) 
+(set-to-wow! zl) 
+((wow b) wow b) 
+z2 
+
+((a b) a b) 
+
+
+
+349 
+
+
+
+(set-to-wow! z2) 
+
+((wow b) a b) 
+
+One way to detect sharing in list structures is to use the predicate eq?, 
+which we introduced in Section 2.3.1 as a way to test whether two sym- 
+bols are equal. More generally (eq? x y) tests whether x and y are 
+the same object (that is, whether x and y are equal as pointers). Thus, 
+withzl and z2 as defined in Figure 3.16 and Figure 3.17, (eq? (car z1) 
+(cdr z1 )) is true and (eq? (car z2) (cdr z2)) is false. 
+
+As will be seen in the following sections, we can exploit sharing to 
+greatly extend the repertoire of data structures that can be represented 
+by pairs. On the other hand, sharing can also be dangerous, since modi- 
+fications made to structures will also affect other structures that happen 
+to share the modified parts. The mutation operations set-car! and set- 
+cdr ! should be used with care; unless we have a good understanding of 
+how our data objects are shared, mutation can have unanticipated re- 
+sults. 20 
+
+Exercise 3.T5: Draw box-and-pointer diagrams to explain 
+the effect of set-to-wow! on the structures z1 and z2 above. 
+
+Exercise 3.T6: Ben Bitdiddle decides to write a procedure 
+to count the number of pairs in any list structure. "It's easy," 
+
+20 The subtleties of dealing with sharing of mutable data objects reflect the underlying 
+issues of "sameness" and "change" that were raised in Section 3.1.3. We mentioned there 
+that admitting change to our language requires that a compound object must have an 
+"identity" that is something different from the pieces from which it is composed. In 
+Lisp, we consider this "identity" to be the quality that is tested by eq?, i.e., by equality of 
+pointers. Since in most Lisp implementations a pointer is essentially a memory address, 
+we are "solving the problem" of defining the identity of objects by stipulating that a data 
+object "itself" is the information stored in some particular set of memory locations in 
+the computer. This suffices for simple Lisp programs, but is hardly a general way to 
+resolve the issue of "sameness" in computational models. 
+
+
+
+350 
+
+
+
+he reasons. "The number of pairs in any structure is the 
+number in the car plus the number in the cdr plus one 
+more to count the current pair." So Ben writes the following 
+procedure: 
+
+(define (count-pairs x) 
+(if (not (pair? x)) 
+0 
+
+(+ (count-pairs (car x)) 
+(count-pairs (cdr x)) 
+1))) 
+
+Show that this procedure is not correct. In particular, draw 
+box-and-pointer diagrams representing list structures made 
+up of exactly three pairs for which Ben's procedure would 
+return 3; return 4; return 7; never return at all. 
+
+Exercise 3.T7: Devise a correct version of the count-pairs 
+procedure of Exercise 3.16 that returns the number of dis- 
+tinct pairs in any structure. (Hint: Traverse the structure, 
+maintaining an auxiliary data structure that is used to keep 
+track of which pairs have already been counted.) 
+
+Exercise 3.T8: Write a procedure that examines a list and 
+determines whether it contains a cycle, that is, whether a 
+program that tried to find the end of the list by taking suc- 
+cessive cdrs would go into an infinite loop. Exercise 3.13 
+constructed such lists. 
+
+Exercise 3.T9: Redo Exercise 3.18 using an algorithm that 
+takes only a constant amount of space. (This requires a very 
+clever idea.) 
+
+
+
+351 
+
+
+
+Mutation is just assignment 
+
+When we introduced compound data, we observed in Section 2.1.3 that 
+pairs can be represented purely in terms of procedures: 
+
+(define (cons x y) 
+(define (dispatch m) 
+(cond ((eq? m 'car) x) 
+((eq? m 'cdr) y) 
+
+(else (error "Undefined operation: CONS" m)))) 
+dispatch) 
+(define (car z) (z 'car)) 
+(define (cdr z) (z 'cdr)) 
+
+The same observation is true for mutable data. We can implement mu- 
+table data objects as procedures using assignment and local state. For 
+instance, we can extend the above pair implementation to handle set- 
+car ! and set-cdr! in a manner analogous to the way we implemented 
+bank accounts using make-account in Section 3.1.1: 
+
+(define (cons x y) 
+
+(define (set-x! v) (set! x v)) 
+(define (set-y! v) (set! y v)) 
+(define (dispatch m) 
+(cond ((eq? m 'car) x) 
+((eq? m 'cdr) y) 
+((eq? m 'set-car!) set-x!) 
+((eq? m 'set-cdr!) set-y!) 
+(else 
+
+(error "Undefined operation: CONS" m)))) 
+
+dispatch) 
+(define (car z) (z 'car)) 
+(define (cdr z) (z 'cdr)) 
+(define (set-car! z new-value) 
+
+((z 'set-car!) new-value) z) 
+
+
+
+352 
+
+
+
+(define (set-cdr! z new-value) 
+((z 'set-cdr!) new-value) z) 
+
+Assignment is all that is needed, theoretically, to account for the behav- 
+ior of mutable data. As soon as we admit set ! to our language, we raise 
+all the issues, not only of assignment, but of mutable data in general. 21 
+
+Exercise 3.20: Draw environment diagrams to illustrate 
+the evaluation of the sequence of expressions 
+
+(define x (cons 1 2)) 
+(define z (cons x x)) 
+(set-car! (cdr z) 17) 
+(car x) 
+77 
+
+using the procedural implementation of pairs given above. 
+(Compare Exercise 3.11.) 
+
+3.3.2 Representing Queues 
+
+The mutators set-car ! and set-cdr ! enable us to use pairs to construct 
+data structures that cannot be built with cons, car, and cdr alone. This 
+section shows how to use pairs to represent a data structure called a 
+queue. Section 3.3.3 will show how to represent data structures called 
+tables. 
+
+A queue is a sequence in which items are inserted at one end (called 
+the rear of the queue) and deleted from the other end (the front). Fig- 
+ure 3.18 shows an initially empty queue in which the items a and b are 
+
+21 On the other hand, from the viewpoint of implementation, assignment requires us 
+to modify the environment, which is itself a mutable data structure. Thus, assignment 
+and mutation are equipotent: Each can be implemented in terms of the other. 
+
+
+
+353 
+
+
+
+Operation 
+
+
+
+Resulting Queue 
+
+
+
+(define q (make-queue)) 
+
+
+
+(insert-queue! q 'a) 
+(insert-queue! q 'b) 
+(delete-queue! q) 
+
+
+
+a 
+
+
+
+a b 
+b 
+
+
+
+(insert-queue! q 'c) 
+(insert-queue! q 'd) 
+(delete-queue! q) 
+
+
+
+b c 
+bed 
+c d 
+
+
+
+Figure 3.T8: Queue operations. 
+
+
+
+inserted. Then a is removed, c and d are inserted, and b is removed. Be- 
+cause items are always removed in the order in which they are inserted, 
+a queue is sometimes called a FIFO (first in, first out) buffer. 
+
+In terms of data abstraction, we can regard a queue as denned by 
+the following set of operations: 
+
+• a constructor: (make-queue) returns an empty queue (a queue 
+containing no items). 
+
+• two selectors: 
+
+(empty-queue? (queue)) tests if the queue is empty. 
+
+(front-queue (queue)) returns the object at the front of the 
+queue, signaling an error if the queue is empty; it does not modify 
+the queue. 
+
+• two mutators: 
+
+(insert-queue! (queue) (item)) inserts the item at the rear of 
+the queue and returns the modified queue as its value. 
+
+
+
+354 
+
+
+
+(delete-queue! (queue)) removes the item at the front of the 
+queue and returns the modified queue as its value, signaling an 
+error if the queue is empty before the deletion. 
+
+Because a queue is a sequence of items, we could certainly represent it 
+as an ordinary list; the front of the queue would be the car of the list, 
+inserting an item in the queue would amount to appending a new ele- 
+ment at the end of the list, and deleting an item from the queue would 
+just be taking the cdr of the list. However, this representation is ineffi- 
+cient, because in order to insert an item we must scan the list until we 
+reach the end. Since the only method we have for scanning a list is by 
+successive cdr operations, this scanning requires 0(n) steps for a list of 
+n items. A simple modification to the list representation overcomes this 
+disadvantage by allowing the queue operations to be implemented so 
+that they require 6(1) steps; that is, so that the number of steps needed 
+is independent of the length of the queue. 
+
+The difficulty with the list representation arises from the need to 
+scan to find the end of the list. The reason we need to scan is that, al- 
+though the standard way of representing a list as a chain of pairs read- 
+ily provides us with a pointer to the beginning of the list, it gives us 
+no easily accessible pointer to the end. The modification that avoids the 
+drawback is to represent the queue as a list, together with an additional 
+pointer that indicates the final pair in the list. That way, when we go to 
+insert an item, we can consult the rear pointer and so avoid scanning 
+the list. 
+
+A queue is represented, then, as a pair of pointers, f ront-ptr and 
+rear-ptr, which indicate, respectively, the first and last pairs in an or- 
+dinary list. Since we would like the queue to be an identifiable object, we 
+can use cons to combine the two pointers. Thus, the queue itself will be 
+the cons of the two pointers. Figure 3.19 illustrates this representation. 
+
+
+
+355 
+
+
+
+q 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+rear- 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+f ront-ptr 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+* 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+U 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+a 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+b 
+
+
+
+
+c 
+
+
+H 
+
+
+
+
+
+Figure 3.T9: Implementation of a queue as a list with front 
+and rear pointers. 
+
+
+
+To define the queue operations we use the following procedures, 
+which enable us to select and to modify the front and rear pointers of a 
+queue: 
+
+(define (front-ptr queue) (car queue)) 
+(define (rear-ptr queue) (cdr queue)) 
+(define (set-f ront-ptr! queue item) 
+
+(set-car! queue item)) 
+(define (set-rear-ptr ! queue item) 
+
+(set-cdr! queue item)) 
+
+Now we can implement the actual queue operations. We will consider 
+a queue to be empty if its front pointer is the empty list: 
+
+(define (empty-queue? queue) 
+(null? (front-ptr queue))) 
+
+The make-queue constructor returns, as an initially empty queue, a pair 
+whose car and cdr are both the empty list: 
+
+(define (make-queue) (cons '() '())) 
+
+
+
+356 
+
+
+
+f ront-ptr 
+
+
+
+rear-ptr 
+
+
+
+Figure 3.20: Result of using (insert-queue ! q 'd) on the 
+queue of Figure 3.19. 
+
+
+
+To select the item at the front of the queue, we return the car of the pair 
+indicated by the front pointer: 
+
+(define (front-queue queue) 
+(if (empty-queue? queue) 
+
+(error "FRONT called with an empty queue" queue) 
+(car (front-ptr queue)))) 
+
+To insert an item in a queue, we follow the method whose result is in- 
+dicated in Figure 3.20. We first create a new pair whose car is the item 
+to be inserted and whose cdr is the empty list. If the queue was initially 
+empty, we set the front and rear pointers of the queue to this new pair. 
+Otherwise, we modify the final pair in the queue to point to the new 
+pair, and also set the rear pointer to the new pair. 
+
+(define (insert-queue! queue item) 
+(let ((new-pair (cons item '()))) 
+(cond ((empty-queue? queue) 
+
+(set-f ront-ptr! queue new-pair) 
+(set-rear-ptr ! queue new-pair) 
+queue) 
+
+
+
+357 
+
+
+
+f ront-ptr 
+
+
+
+rear-ptr 
+
+
+
+Figure 3.2T: Result of using (delete-queue ! q) on the 
+queue of Figure 3.20. 
+
+
+
+(else 
+
+(set-cdr! (rear-ptr queue) new-pair) 
+(set-rear-ptr ! queue new-pair) 
+queue)))) 
+
+To delete the item at the front of the queue, we merely modify the front 
+pointer so that it now points at the second item in the queue, which 
+can be found by following the cdr pointer of the first item (see Figure 
+3.21): 22 
+
+(define (delete-queue! queue) 
+(cond ((empty-queue? queue) 
+
+(error "DELETE! called with an empty queue" queue)) 
+(else (set-f ront-ptr ! queue (cdr (front-ptr queue))) 
+queue))) 
+
+
+
+22 If the first item is the final item in the queue, the front pointer will be the empty 
+list after the deletion, which will mark the queue as empty; we needn't worry about 
+updating the rear pointer, which will still point to the deleted item, because empty- 
+queue? looks only at the front pointer. 
+
+
+
+358 
+
+
+
+Exercise 3.2 T: Ben Bitdiddle decides to test the queue im- 
+plementation described above. He types in the procedures 
+to the Lisp interpreter and proceeds to try them out: 
+
+(define q1 (make-queue)) 
+(insert-queue! q1 'a) 
+
+((a) a) 
+
+(insert-queue! q1 'b) 
+
+((a b) b) 
+
+(delete-queue ! q1) 
+
+((b) b) 
+
+(delete-queue! q1) 
+
+(O b) 
+
+"It's all wrong!" he complains. "The interpreter's response 
+shows that the last item is inserted into the queue twice. 
+And when I delete both items, the second b is still there, 
+so the queue isn't empty, even though it's supposed to be." 
+Eva Lu Ator suggests that Ben has misunderstood what is 
+happening. "It's not that the items are going into the queue 
+twice," she explains. "It's just that the standard Lisp printer 
+doesn't know how to make sense of the queue representa- 
+tion. If you want to see the queue printed correctly, you'll 
+have to define your own print procedure for queues." Ex- 
+plain what Eva Lu is talking about. In particular, show why 
+Ben's examples produce the printed results that they do. 
+Define a procedure print-queue that takes a queue as in- 
+put and prints the sequence of items in the queue. 
+
+Exercise 3.22: Instead of representing a queue as a pair of 
+pointers, we can build a queue as a procedure with local 
+state. The local state will consist of pointers to the begin- 
+
+
+
+359 
+
+
+
+ning and the end of an ordinary list. Thus, the make-queue 
+procedure will have the form 
+
+(define (make-queue) 
+(let ((f ront-ptr . . . ) 
+(rear-ptr ... )) 
+(definitions of internal procedures) 
+(define (dispatch m) . . .) 
+dispatch) ) 
+
+Complete the definition of make-queue and provide imple- 
+mentations of the queue operations using this representa- 
+tion. 
+
+Exercise 3.23: A deque ("double-ended queue") is a sequence 
+in which items can be inserted and deleted at either the 
+front or the rear. Operations on deques are the constructor 
+make-deque, the predicate empty-deque?, selectors front- 
+deque and rear-deque, mutators front-insert-deque!, 
+rear- insert-deque ! , f ront-delete-deque ! , and rear-delete- 
+deque!. Show how to represent deques using pairs, and 
+give implementations of the operations. 23 All operations 
+should be accomplished in 0(1) steps. 
+
+3.3.3 Representing Tables 
+
+When we studied various ways of representing sets in Chapter 2, we 
+mentioned in Section 2.3.3 the task of maintaining a table of records in- 
+dexed by identifying keys. In the implementation of data-directed pro- 
+gramming in Section 2.4.3, we made extensive use of two-dimensional 
+
+23 Be careful not to make the interpreter try to print a structure that contains cycles. 
+(See Exercise 3.13.) 
+
+
+
+360 
+
+
+
+table 
+
+
+
+• • — 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+r 
+
+*table* 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+a 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+b 
+
+
+
+
+2 
+
+
+c 
+
+
+J 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+
+Figure 3.22: A table represented as a headed list. 
+
+
+
+tables, in which information is stored and retrieved using two keys. Here 
+we see how to build tables as mutable list structures. 
+
+We first consider a one-dimensional table, in which each value is 
+stored under a single key. We implement the table as a list of records, 
+each of which is implemented as a pair consisting of a key and the as- 
+sociated value. The records are glued together to form a list by pairs 
+whose cars point to successive records. These gluing pairs are called 
+the backbone of the table. In order to have a place that we can change 
+when we add a new record to the table, we build the table as a headed list. 
+A headed list has a special backbone pair at the beginning, which holds 
+a dummy "record"— in this case the arbitrarily chosen symbol *table*. 
+Figure 3.22 shows the box-and-pointer diagram for the table 
+
+a: 1 
+b: 2 
+c: 3 
+
+To extract information from a table we use the lookup procedure, which 
+takes a key as argument and returns the associated value (or false if 
+
+
+
+361 
+
+
+
+there is no value stored under that key). Lookup is defined in terms of the 
+assoc operation, which expects a key and a list of records as arguments. 
+Note that assoc never sees the dummy record. Assoc returns the record 
+that has the given key as its car. 24 Lookup then checks to see that the 
+resulting record returned by assoc is not false, and returns the value 
+(the cdr) of the record. 
+
+(define (lookup key table) 
+
+(let ((record (assoc key (cdr table)))) 
+(if record 
+
+(cdr record) 
+false))) 
+(define (assoc key records) 
+(cond ((null? records) false) 
+
+((equal? key (caar records)) (car records)) 
+(else (assoc key (cdr records))))) 
+
+To insert a value in a table under a specified key, we first use assoc 
+to see if there is already a record in the table with this key. If not, we 
+form a new record by consing the key with the value, and insert this at 
+the head of the table's list of records, after the dummy record. If there 
+already is a record with this key, we set the cdr of this record to the 
+designated new value. The header of the table provides us with a fixed 
+location to modify in order to insert the new record. 25 
+
+(define (insert! key value table) 
+
+(let ((record (assoc key (cdr table)))) 
+
+24 Because assoc uses equal?, it can recognize keys that are symbols, numbers, or 
+list structure. 
+
+25 Thus, the first backbone pair is the object that represents the table "itself"; that is, 
+a pointer to the table is a pointer to this pair. This same backbone pair always starts 
+the table. If we did not arrange things in this way, insert ! would have to return a new 
+value for the start of the table when it added a new record. 
+
+
+
+362 
+
+
+
+(if record 
+
+(set-cdr! record value) 
+(set-cdr! table 
+
+(cons (cons key value) 
+(cdr table))))) 
+
+'ok) 
+
+To construct a new table, we simply create a list containing the symbol 
+*table*: 
+
+(define (make-table) 
+(list '*table*)) 
+
+
+
+Two-dimensional tables 
+
+In a two-dimensional table, each value is indexed by two keys. We can 
+construct such a table as a one-dimensional table in which each key 
+identifies a subtable. Figure 3.23 shows the box-and-pointer diagram 
+for the table 
+
+math: +: 43 letters: a: 97 
+
+-: 45 b: 98 
+
+*: 42 
+
+which has two subtables. (The subtables don't need a special header 
+symbol, since the key that identifies the subtable serves this purpose.) 
+
+When we look up an item, we use the first key to identify the correct 
+subtable. Then we use the second key to identify the record within the 
+subtable. 
+
+(define (lookup key-1 key-2 table) 
+(let ((subtable 
+
+(assoc key-1 (cdr table)))) 
+
+
+
+363 
+
+
+
+table 
+
+
+
+*table* 
+
+
+
+letters 
+
+
+
+a 97 
+
+
+
+
+Figure 3.23: A two-dimensional table. 
+
+
+
+(if subtable 
+
+(let ((record 
+
+(assoc key-2 (cdr subtable)))) 
+(if record 
+
+(cdr record) 
+false)) 
+false))) 
+
+
+
+364 
+
+
+
+To insert a new item under a pair of keys, we use assoc to see if 
+there is a subtable stored under the first key. If not, we build a new 
+subtable containing the single record (key-2, value) and insert it into 
+the table under the first key. If a subtable already exists for the first key, 
+we insert the new record into this subtable, using the insertion method 
+for one-dimensional tables described above: 
+
+(define (insert! key-1 key-2 value table) 
+(let ((subtable (assoc key-1 (cdr table)))) 
+(if subtable 
+
+(let ((record (assoc key-2 (cdr subtable)))) 
+(if record 
+
+(set-cdr! record value) 
+(set-cdr! subtable 
+
+(cons (cons key-2 value) 
+(cdr subtable))))) 
+
+(set-cdr! table 
+
+(cons (list key-1 
+
+(cons key-2 value)) 
+(cdr table))))) 
+
+'ok) 
+
+
+
+Creating local tables 
+
+The lookup and insert! operations defined above take the table as an 
+argument. This enables us to use programs that access more than one ta- 
+ble. Another way to deal with multiple tables is to have separate lookup 
+and insert ! procedures for each table. We can do this by representing 
+a table procedurally, as an object that maintains an internal table as part 
+of its local state. When sent an appropriate message, this "table object" 
+supplies the procedure with which to operate on the internal table. Here 
+is a generator for two-dimensional tables represented in this fashion: 
+
+
+
+365 
+
+
+
+(define (make-table) 
+
+(let ((local-table (list '*table*))) 
+(define (lookup key-1 key-2) 
+(let ((subtable 
+
+(assoc key-1 (cdr local-table)))) 
+(if subtable 
+
+(let ((record 
+
+(assoc key-2 (cdr subtable)))) 
+(if record (cdr record) false)) 
+false))) 
+
+(define (insert! key-1 key-2 value) 
+(let ((subtable 
+
+(assoc key-1 (cdr local-table)))) 
+(if subtable 
+
+(let ((record 
+
+(assoc key-2 (cdr subtable)))) 
+(if record 
+
+(set-cdr! record value) 
+(set-cdr! subtable 
+
+(cons (cons key-2 value) 
+(cdr subtable))))) 
+
+(set-cdr! local-table 
+
+(cons (list key-1 (cons key-2 value)) 
+(cdr local-table))))) 
+
+'ok) 
+
+(define (dispatch m) 
+
+(cond ((eq? m ' lookup-proc) lookup) 
+
+((eq? m ' insert-proc ! ) insert!) 
+
+(else (error "Unknown operation: TABLE" m)))) 
+dispatch) ) 
+
+Using make-table, we could implement the get and put operations 
+used in Section 2.4.3 for data-directed programming, as follows: 
+
+
+
+366 
+
+
+
+(define operation-table (make-table)) 
+(define get (operation-table ' lookup-proc)) 
+(define put (operation-table ' insert-proc! )) 
+
+Get takes as arguments two keys, and put takes as arguments two keys 
+and a value. Both operations access the same local table, which is en- 
+capsulated within the object created by the call to make-table. 
+
+Exercise 3.24: In the table implementations above, the keys 
+are tested for equality using equal? (called by assoc). This 
+is not always the appropriate test. For instance, we might 
+have a table with numeric keys in which we don't need an 
+exact match to the number we're looking up, but only a 
+number within some tolerance of it. Design a table con- 
+structor make-table that takes as an argument a same-key? 
+procedure that will be used to test "equality" of keys. Make- 
+table should return adispatch procedure that can be used 
+to access appropriate lookup and insert ! procedures for a 
+local table. 
+
+Exercise 3.25: Generalizing one- and two-dimensional ta- 
+bles, show how to implement a table in which values are 
+stored under an arbitrary number of keys and different val- 
+ues may be stored under different numbers of keys. The 
+lookup and insert! proce- dures should take as input a 
+list of keys used to access the table. 
+
+Exercise 3.26: To search a table as implemented above, one 
+needs to scan through the list of records. This is basically 
+the unordered list representation of Section 2.3.3. For large 
+tables, it may be more efficient to structure the table in a dif- 
+ferent manner. Describe a table implementation where the 
+
+
+
+367 
+
+
+
+(key, value) records are organized using a binary tree, as- 
+suming that keys can be ordered in some way (e.g., numer- 
+ically or alphabetically). (Compare Exercise 2.66 of Chapter 
+2.) ' 
+
+Exercise 3.27: Memoization (also called tabulation) is a tech- 
+nique that enables a procedure to record, in a local table, 
+values that have previously been computed. This technique 
+can make a vast difference in the performance of a program. 
+A memoized procedure maintains a table in which values 
+of previous calls are stored using as keys the arguments 
+that produced the values. When the memoized procedure 
+is asked to compute a value, it first checks the table to see 
+if the value is already there and, if so, just returns that value. 
+Otherwise, it computes the new value in the ordinary way 
+and stores this in the table. As an example of memoization, 
+recall from Section 1.2.2 the exponential process for com- 
+puting Fibonacci numbers: 
+
+(define (fib n) 
+
+(cond ((= n 0) 0) 
+
+((= n 1) 1) 
+
+(else (+ (fib (- n 1)) (fib (- n 2)))))) 
+
+The memoized version of the same procedure is 
+
+(define memo-fib 
+(memoize 
+(lambda (n) 
+
+(cond ((= n 0) 0) 
+((= n 1) 1) 
+
+(else (+ (memo-fib (- n 1)) 
+
+(memo-fib (- n 2)))))))) 
+
+
+
+368 
+
+
+
+where the memoizer is defined as 
+
+
+
+(define (memoize f) 
+
+(let ((table (make-table))) 
+(lambda (x) 
+
+(let ( (previously-computed- result 
+(lookup x table))) 
+(or previously-computed-result 
+(let ((result (f x))) 
+(insert! x result table) 
+result)))))) 
+
+Draw an environment diagram to analyze the computation 
+of (memo-fib 3). Explain why memo-fib computes the n th 
+Fibonacci number in a number of steps proportional to n. 
+Would the scheme still work if we had simply defined memo- 
+fib to be (memoize fib)? 
+
+3.3.4 A Simulator for Digital Circuits 
+
+Designing complex digital systems, such as computers, is an important 
+engineering activity. Digital systems are constructed by interconnect- 
+ing simple elements. Although the behavior of these individual elements 
+is simple, networks of them can have very complex behavior. Computer 
+simulation of proposed circuit designs is an important tool used by digi- 
+tal systems engineers. In this section we design a system for performing 
+digital logic simulations. This system typifies a kind of program called 
+an event-driven simulation, in which actions ("events") trigger further 
+events that happen at a later time, which in turn trigger more events, 
+and so on. 
+
+Our computational model of a circuit will be composed of objects 
+that correspond to the elementary components from which the circuit 
+
+
+
+369 
+
+
+
+
+Inverter And-gate Or-gate 
+
+Figure 3.24: Primitive functions in the digital logic simulator. 
+
+
+
+is constructed. There are wires, which carry digital signals. A digital sig- 
+nal may at any moment have only one of two possible values, 0 and 
+1. There are also various types of digital function boxes, which connect 
+wires carrying input signals to other output wires. Such boxes produce 
+output signals computed from their input signals. The output signal is 
+delayed by a time that depends on the type of the function box. For 
+example, an inverter is a primitive function box that inverts its input. 
+If the input signal to an inverter changes to 0, then one inverter-delay 
+later the inverter will change its output signal to 1 . If the input signal to 
+an inverter changes to 1, then one inverter-delay later the inverter will 
+change its output signal to 0. We draw an inverter symbolically as in 
+Figure 3.24. An and-gate, also shown in Figure 3.24, is a primitive func- 
+tion box with two inputs and one output. It drives its output signal to 
+a value that is the logical and of the inputs. That is, if both of its input 
+signals become 1, then one and-gate-delay time later the and-gate will 
+force its output signal to be 1; otherwise the output will be 0. An or-gate 
+is a similar two-input primitive function box that drives its output sig- 
+nal to a value that is the logical or of the inputs. That is, the output will 
+become 1 if at least one of the input signals is 1; otherwise the output 
+will become 0. 
+
+We can connect primitive functions together to construct more com- 
+plex functions. To accomplish this we wire the outputs of some function 
+boxes to the inputs of other function boxes. For example, the half-adder 
+
+
+
+370 
+
+
+
+A 
+
+
+
+D 
+
+
+
+
+s 
+
+
+
+c 
+
+
+
+B 
+
+
+
+Figure 3.25: A half-adder circuit. 
+
+
+
+circuit shown in Figure 3.25 consists of an or-gate, two and-gates, and 
+an inverter. It takes two input signals, A and B, and has two output sig- 
+nals, S and C. S will become 1 whenever precisely one of A and B is 1, 
+and C will become 1 whenever A and B are both 1. We can see from the 
+figure that, because of the delays involved, the outputs may be gener- 
+ated at different times. Many of the difficulties in the design of digital 
+circuits arise from this fact. 
+
+We will now build a program for modeling the digital logic circuits 
+we wish to study. The program will construct computational objects 
+modeling the wires, which will "hold" the signals. Function boxes will 
+be modeled by procedures that enforce the correct relationships among 
+the signals. 
+
+One basic element of our simulation will be a procedure make-wi re, 
+which constructs wires. For example, we can construct six wires as fol- 
+lows: 
+
+(define a (make-wire)) 
+(define b (make-wire)) 
+(define c (make-wire)) 
+(define d (make-wire)) 
+(define e (make-wire)) 
+(define s (make-wire)) 
+
+
+
+371 
+
+
+
+We attach a function box to a set of wires by calling a procedure that 
+constructs that kind of box. The arguments to the constructor procedure 
+are the wires to be attached to the box. For example, given that we can 
+construct and-gates, or-gates, and inverters, we can wire together the 
+half-adder shown in Figure 3.25: 
+
+(or-gate a b d) 
+
+ok 
+
+(and-gate a b c) 
+
+ok 
+
+(inverter c e) 
+ok 
+
+(and-gate d e s) 
+
+ok 
+
+Better yet, we can explicitly name this operation by defining a procedure 
+half-adder that constructs this circuit, given the four external wires to 
+be attached to the half-adder: 
+
+(define (half-adder a b s c) 
+
+(let ((d (make-wire)) (e (make-wire))) 
+(or-gate a b d) 
+(and-gate a b c) 
+(inverter c e) 
+(and-gate d e s) 
+'ok)) 
+
+The advantage of making this definition is that we can use half-adder 
+itself as a building block in creating more complex circuits. Figure 3.26, 
+for example, shows a full-adder composed of two half-adders and an 
+or-gate. 26 We can construct a full-adder as follows: 
+
+26 A full-adder is a basic circuit element used in adding two binary numbers. Here 
+A and B are the bits at corresponding positions in the two numbers to be added, and 
+
+
+
+372 
+
+
+
+c 
+
+
+
+A 
+
+
+
+SUM 
+
+
+
+half- 
+adder 
+
+
+
+B 
+
+
+
+half- 
+adder 
+
+
+
+
+C, 
+
+
+
+out 
+
+
+
+in 
+
+
+
+Figure 3.26: A full-adder circuit. 
+
+
+
+(define (full-adder a b c-in sum c-out) 
+
+(let ((s (make-wire)) (d (make-wire)) (c2 (make-wire))) 
+(half-adder b c-in s c1) 
+(half-adder a s sum c2) 
+(or-gate c1 c2 c-out) 
+'ok)) 
+
+Having defined full -adder as a procedure, we can now use it as a build- 
+ing block for creating still more complex circuits. (For example, see Ex- 
+ercise 3.30.) 
+
+In essence, our simulator provides us with the tools to construct a 
+language of circuits. If we adopt the general perspective on languages 
+with which we approached the study of Lisp in Section 1.1, we can say 
+that the primitive function boxes form the primitive elements of the 
+language, that wiring boxes together provides a means of combination, 
+and that specifying wiring patterns as procedures serves as a means of 
+abstraction. 
+
+
+
+Cj n is the carry bit from the addition one place to the right. The circuit generates SUM, 
+which is the sum bit in the corresponding position, and C out , which is the carry bit to 
+be propagated to the left. 
+
+
+
+373 
+
+
+
+Primitive function boxes 
+
+The primitive function boxes implement the "forces" by which a change 
+in the signal on one wire influences the signals on other wires. To build 
+function boxes, we use the following operations on wires: 
+
+• (get-signal (wire)) 
+
+returns the current value of the signal on the wire. 
+
+• (set-signal! (wire) (new value)) 
+
+changes the value of the signal on the wire to the new value. 
+
+• (add-action ! (wire) (procedure of no arguments)) 
+
+asserts that the designated procedure should be run whenever 
+the signal on the wire changes value. Such procedures are the 
+vehicles by which changes in the signal value on the wire are 
+communicated to other wires. 
+
+In addition, we will make use of a procedure after-delay that takes a 
+time delay and a procedure to be run and executes the given procedure 
+after the given delay. 
+
+Using these procedures, we can define the primitive digital logic 
+functions. To connect an input to an output through an inverter, we use 
+add-action ! to associate with the input wire a procedure that will be 
+run whenever the signal on the input wire changes value. The proce- 
+dure computes the logical-not of the input signal, and then, after one 
+inverter-delay, sets the output signal to be this new value: 
+
+(define (inverter input output) 
+(define (invert-input) 
+
+(let ((new-value (logical-not (get-signal input)))) 
+
+
+
+374 
+
+
+
+(after-delay inverter-delay 
+
+(lambda () (set-signal! output new-value))))) 
+(add-action! input invert-input) 'ok) 
+(define (logical-not s) 
+(cond ((= s 0) 1) 
+((= s 1) 0) 
+
+(else (error "Invalid signal" s)))) 
+
+An and-gate is a little more complex. The action procedure must be run 
+if either of the inputs to the gate changes. It computes the logical- 
+and (using a procedure analogous to logical-not) of the values of the 
+signals on the input wires and sets up a change to the new value to 
+occur on the output wire after one and-gate-delay. 
+
+(define (and-gate a1 a2 output) 
+(define (and-action-procedure) 
+(let ((new-value 
+
+(logical-and (get-signal al) (get-signal a2)))) 
+(after-delay 
+and-gate-delay 
+
+(lambda () (set-signal! output new-value))))) 
+(add-action! al and-action-procedure) 
+(add-action! a2 and-action-procedure) 
+'ok) 
+
+
+
+Exercise 3.28: Define an or-gate as a primitive function 
+box. Your or-gate constructor should be similar to and- 
+gate. 
+
+Exercise 3.29: Another way to construct an or-gate is as 
+a compound digital logic device, built from and-gates and 
+inverters. Define a procedure or-gate that accomplishes 
+
+
+
+375 
+
+
+
+AiB, c, 
+
+
+A 2 B 2 c 2 
+
+
+A3B3 c 3 l | 
+
+
+A D 
+
+A n B n C 
+
+
+
+
+1 : rn 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+FA 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+FA 
+
+
+
+
+FA 
+
+
+
+
+FA 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+■ 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+J 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+w 
+
+
+
+s, 
+
+
+
+Figure 3.27: A ripple-carry adder for n-bit numbers. 
+
+
+
+this. What is the delay time of the or-gate in terms of an ru- 
+gate-delay and inverter-delay? 
+
+Exercise 3.30: Figure 3.27 shows a ripple-carry adder formed 
+by stringing together n full-adders. This is the simplest form 
+of parallel adder for adding two n-bit binary numbers. The 
+inputs A\, A 2 , A 3 , . . ., A n and B\, B 2 , B3, . . ., B n are the 
+two binary numbers to be added (each Afc and is a 0 or 
+a 1). The circuit generates Sj, S 2 , S3, . . ., S n , the n bits of 
+the sum, and C, the carry from the addition. Write a proce- 
+dure ripple-carry-adder that generates this circuit. The 
+procedure should take as arguments three lists of n wires 
+each— the A^, the Bk, and the S^— and also another wire C. 
+The major drawback of the ripple-carry adder is the need 
+to wait for the carry signals to propagate. What is the delay 
+needed to obtain the complete output from an n-bit ripple- 
+carry adder, expressed in terms of the delays for and-gates, 
+or-gates, and inverters? 
+
+
+
+376 
+
+
+
+Representing wires 
+
+A wire in our simulation will be a computational object with two local 
+state variables: a signal-value (initially taken to be 0) and a collec- 
+tion of action-procedures to be run when the signal changes value. 
+We implement the wire, using message-passing style, as a collection of 
+local procedures together with a dispatch procedure that selects the ap- 
+propriate local operation, just as we did with the simple bank-account 
+object in Section 3.1.1: 
+
+(define (make-wire) 
+
+(let ((signal-value 0) (action-procedures '())) 
+(define (set-my-signal ! new-value) 
+(if (not (= signal-value new-value)) 
+
+(begin (set! signal-value new-value) 
+(call-each action-procedures)) 
+
+'done)) 
+
+(define (accept-action-procedure ! proc) 
+(set! action-procedures 
+
+(cons proc action-procedures)) 
+(proc)) 
+(define (dispatch m) 
+
+(cond ((eq? m 'get-signal) signal-value) 
+
+((eq? m 'set-signal!) set-my-signal!) 
+((eq? m ' add-action ! ) accept-action-procedure!) 
+(else (error "Unknown operation: WIRE" m)))) 
+dispatch)) 
+
+The local procedure set-my-signal! tests whether the new signal value 
+changes the signal on the wire. If so, it runs each of the action proce- 
+dures, using the following procedure call-each, which calls each of the 
+items in a list of no-argument procedures: 
+
+(define (call-each procedures) 
+
+
+
+377 
+
+
+
+(if (null? procedures) 
+'done 
+
+(begin ((car procedures)) 
+
+(call-each (cdr procedures))))) 
+
+The local procedure accept-action-procedure ! adds the given proce- 
+dure to the list of procedures to be run, and then runs the new procedure 
+once. (See Exercise 3.31.) 
+
+With the local dispatch procedure set up as specified, we can pro- 
+vide the following procedures to access the local operations on wires: 27 
+
+(define (get-signal wire) (wire 'get-signal)) 
+(define (set-signal! wire new-value) 
+
+((wire 'set-signal!) new-value)) 
+(define (add-action! wire action-procedure) 
+
+((wire 'add-action!) action-procedure)) 
+
+Wires, which have time-varying signals and may be incrementally at- 
+tached to devices, are typical of mutable objects. We have modeled them 
+as procedures with local state variables that are modified by assignment. 
+When a new wire is created, a new set of state variables is allocated 
+(by the let expression in make-wire) and a new dispatch procedure 
+is constructed and returned, capturing the environment with the new 
+state variables. 
+
+27 These procedures are simply syntactic sugar that allow us to use ordinary pro- 
+cedural syntax to access the local procedures of objects. It is striking that we can in- 
+terchange the role of "procedures" and "data" in such a simple way. For example, if we 
+write (wire 'get-signal) we think of wire as a procedure that is called with the mes- 
+sage get-signal as input. Alternatively, writing (get-signal wire) encourages us to 
+think of wi re as a data object that is the input to a procedure get-signal. The truth of 
+the matter is that, in a language in which we can deal with procedures as objects, there 
+is no fundamental difference between "procedures" and "data," and we can choose our 
+syntactic sugar to allow us to program in whatever style we choose. 
+
+
+
+378 
+
+
+
+The wires are shared among the various devices that have been con- 
+nected to them. Thus, a change made by an interaction with one device 
+will affect all the other devices attached to the wire. The wire communi- 
+cates the change to its neighbors by calling the action procedures pro- 
+vided to it when the connections were established. 
+
+The agenda 
+
+The only thing needed to complete the simulator is after-delay. The 
+idea here is that we maintain a data structure, called an agenda, that 
+contains a schedule of things to do. The following operations are defined 
+for agendas: 
+
+• (make-agenda) returns a new empty agenda. 
+
+• (empty-agenda? (agenda)) is true if the specified agenda is 
+empty. 
+
+• (first-agenda-item (agenda)) returns the first item on the 
+agenda. 
+
+• (remove-first-agenda-item! (agenda)) modifies the agenda 
+by removing the first item. 
+
+• (add-to-agenda ! (time) (action) (agenda)) modifies the 
+agenda by adding the given action procedure to be run at the spec- 
+ified time. 
+
+• (current-time (agenda)) returns the current simulation time. 
+
+The particular agenda that we use is denoted by the-agenda. The pro- 
+cedure after-delay adds new elements to the-agenda: 
+
+
+
+379 
+
+
+
+(define (after-delay delay action) 
+
+(add-to-agenda ! (+ delay (current-time the-agenda)) 
+action 
+the-agenda) ) 
+
+The simulation is driven by the procedure propagate, which operates 
+on the-agenda, executing each procedure on the agenda in sequence. In 
+general, as the simulation runs, new items will be added to the agenda, 
+and propagate will continue the simulation as long as there are items 
+on the agenda: 
+
+(define (propagate) 
+
+(if (empty-agenda? the-agenda) 
+'done 
+
+(let ((first-item (first-agenda-item the-agenda))) 
+(first-item) 
+
+(remove-first-agenda- it em! the-agenda) 
+(propagate)))) 
+
+A sample simulation 
+
+The following procedure, which places a "probe" on a wire, shows the 
+simulator in action. The probe tells the wire that, whenever its signal 
+changes value, it should print the new signal value, together with the 
+current time and a name that identifies the wire: 
+
+(define (probe name wire) 
+(add-action! wire 
+
+(lambda () 
+
+(newline) 
+
+(display name) (display " ") 
+(display (current-time the-agenda)) 
+(display " New-value = ") 
+(display (get-signal wire))))) 
+
+
+
+380 
+
+
+
+We begin by initializing the agenda and specifying delays for the prim- 
+itive function boxes: 
+
+(define the-agenda (make-agenda)) 
+(define inverter-delay 2) 
+(define and-gate-delay 3) 
+(define or-gate-delay 5) 
+
+Now we define four wires, placing probes on two of them: 
+
+(define input-1 (make-wire)) 
+(define input-2 (make-wire)) 
+(define sum (make-wire)) 
+(define carry (make-wire)) 
+
+(probe 'sum sum) 
+sum 0 New-value = 0 
+
+(probe 'carry carry) 
+carry 0 New-value = 0 
+
+Next we connect the wires in a half-adder circuit (as in Figure 3.25), set 
+the signal on input-1 to 1, and run the simulation: 
+
+(half-adder input-1 input-2 sum carry) 
+ok 
+
+(set-signal! input-1 1) 
+
+done 
+
+(propagate) 
+
+sum 8 New-value = 7 
+
+done 
+
+The sum signal changes to 1 at time 8. We are now eight time units from 
+the beginning of the simulation. At this point, we can set the signal on 
+input-2 to 1 and allow the values to propagate: 
+
+
+
+381 
+
+
+
+(set-signal! input-2 1) 
+done 
+
+(propagate) 
+
+carry 11 New-value = 1 
+sum 16 New-value = 0 
+done 
+
+The carry changes to 1 at time 11 and the sum changes to 0 at time 16. 
+
+Exercise 3.3T : The internal procedure accept-action-procedure ! 
+defined in make-wi re specifies that when a new action pro- 
+cedure is added to a wire, the procedure is immediately 
+run. Explain why this initialization is necessary. In particu- 
+lar, trace through the half-adder example in the paragraphs 
+above and say how the system's response would differ if we 
+had defined accept-action-procedure ! as 
+
+(define (accept-action-procedure! proc) 
+(set! action-procedures 
+
+(cons proc action-procedures))) 
+
+Implementing the agenda 
+
+Finally, we give details of the agenda data structure, which holds the 
+procedures that are scheduled for future execution. 
+
+The agenda is made up of time segments. Each time segment is a 
+pair consisting of a number (the time) and a queue (see Exercise 3.32) 
+that holds the procedures that are scheduled to be run during that time 
+segment. 
+
+(define (make-time-segment time queue) 
+(cons time queue)) 
+
+
+
+382 
+
+
+
+(define (segment-time s) (car s)) 
+(define (segment-queue s) (cdr s)) 
+
+We will operate on the time-segment queues using the queue operations 
+described in Section 3.3.2. 
+
+The agenda itself is a one-dimensional table of time segments. It 
+differs from the tables described in Section 3.3.3 in that the segments will 
+be sorted in order of increasing time. In addition, we store the current 
+time (i.e., the time of the last action that was processed) at the head of 
+the agenda. A newly constructed agenda has no time segments and has 
+a current time of 0: 28 
+
+(define (make-agenda) (list 0)) 
+
+(define (current-time agenda) (car agenda)) 
+
+(define (set-current-time! agenda time) 
+
+(set-car! agenda time)) 
+(define (segments agenda) (cdr agenda)) 
+(define (set-segments! agenda segments) 
+
+(set-cdr! agenda segments)) 
+(define (first-segment agenda) (car (segments agenda))) 
+(define (rest-segments agenda) (cdr (segments agenda))) 
+
+An agenda is empty if it has no time segments: 
+
+(define (empty-agenda? agenda) 
+(null? (segments agenda))) 
+
+To add an action to an agenda, we first check if the agenda is empty. If so, 
+we create a time segment for the action and install this in the agenda. 
+Otherwise, we scan the agenda, examining the time of each segment. 
+If we find a segment for our appointed time, we add the action to the 
+
+28 1he agenda is a headed list, like the tables in Section 3.3.3, but since the list is 
+headed by the time, we do not need an additional dummy header (such as the *table* 
+symbol used with tables). 
+
+
+
+383 
+
+
+
+associated queue. If we reach a time later than the one to which we are 
+appointed, we insert a new time segment into the agenda just before it. 
+If we reach the end of the agenda, we must create a new time segment 
+at the end. 
+
+(define (add-to-agenda ! time action agenda) 
+(define (belongs-before? segments) 
+(or (null? segments) 
+
+(< time (segment-time (car segments))))) 
+(define (make-new-time-segment time action) 
+(let ((q (make-queue))) 
+(insert-queue! q action) 
+(make-time-segment time q))) 
+(define (add-to-segments ! segments) 
+
+(if (= (segment-time (car segments)) time) 
+
+(insert-queue! (segment-queue (car segments)) 
+action) 
+
+(let ((rest (cdr segments))) 
+(if (belongs-before? rest) 
+(set-cdr ! 
+segments 
+
+(cons (make-new-time-segment time action) 
+(cdr segments))) 
+(add-to-segments! rest))))) 
+(let ((segments (segments agenda))) 
+(if (belongs-before? segments) 
+(set-segments ! 
+agenda 
+
+(cons (make-new-time-segment time action) 
+segments)) 
+(add-to-segments! segments)))) 
+
+The procedure that removes the first item from the agenda deletes the 
+item at the front of the queue in the first time segment. If this deletion 
+
+
+
+384 
+
+
+
+makes the time segment empty, we remove it from the list of segments: 29 
+
+(define (remove-first-agenda-item! agenda) 
+
+(let ((q (segment-queue (first-segment agenda)))) 
+(delete-queue ! q) 
+(if (empty-queue? q) 
+
+(set-segments! agenda (rest-segments agenda))))) 
+
+The first agenda item is found at the head of the queue in the first 
+time segment. Whenever we extract an item, we also update the cur- 
+rent time: 30 
+
+(define (first-agenda-item agenda) 
+(if (empty-agenda? agenda) 
+
+(error "Agenda is empty: FIRST-AGENDA-ITEM") 
+(let ((first-seg (first-segment agenda))) 
+(set-current-time! agenda 
+
+(segment-time first-seg)) 
+(front-queue (segment-queue first-seg))))) 
+
+Exercise 3.32: The procedures to be run during each time 
+segment of the agenda are kept in a queue. Thus, the pro- 
+cedures for each segment are called in the order in which 
+they were added to the agenda (first in, first out). Explain 
+why this order must be used. In particular, trace the behav- 
+ior of an and-gate whose inputs change from 0, 1 to 1, 0 
+
+29 Observe that the if expression in this procedure has no (alternative) expression. 
+Such a "one-armed if statement" is used to decide whether to do something, rather 
+than to select between two expressions. An if expression returns an unspecified value 
+if the predicate is false and there is no (alternative). 
+
+30 In this way, the current time will always be the time of the action most recently 
+processed. Storing this time at the head of the agenda ensures that it will still be avail- 
+able even if the associated time segment has been deleted. 
+
+
+
+385 
+
+
+
+in the same segment and say how the behavior would dif- 
+fer if we stored a segment's procedures in an ordinary list, 
+adding and removing procedures only at the front (last in, 
+first out). 
+
+3.3.5 Propagation of Constraints 
+
+Computer programs are traditionally organized as one-directional com- 
+putations, which perform operations on prespecified arguments to pro- 
+duce desired outputs. On the other hand, we often model systems in 
+terms of relations among quantities. For example, a mathematical model 
+of a mechanical structure might include the information that the deflec- 
+tion J of a metal rod is related to the force F on the rod, the length L 
+of the rod, the cross-sectional area A, and the elastic modulus E via the 
+equation 
+
+dAE = FL. 
+
+Such an equation is not one-directional. Given any four of the quanti- 
+ties, we can use it to compute the fifth. Yet translating the equation into 
+a traditional computer language would force us to choose one of the 
+quantities to be computed in terms of the other four. Thus, a procedure 
+for computing the area A could not be used to compute the deflection 
+d, even though the computations of A and d arise from the same equa- 
+tion. 31 
+
+31 Constraint propagation first appeared in the incredibly forward-looking sketch- 
+pad system of Ivan Sutherland (1963). A beautiful constraint-propagation system based 
+on the Smalltalk language was developed by Alan Borning (1977) at Xerox Palo Alto 
+Research Center. Sussman, Stallman, and Steele applied constraint propagation to elec- 
+trical circuit analysis (Sussman and Stallman 1975; Sussman and Steele 1980). TKlSolver 
+(Konopasek and Jayaraman 1984) is an extensive modeling environment based on 
+constraints. 
+
+
+
+386 
+
+
+
+In this section, we sketch the design of a language that enables us 
+to work in terms of relations themselves. The primitive elements of the 
+language are primitive constraints, which state that certain relations hold 
+between quantities. For example, (adder a b c) specifies that the quan- 
+tities a, b, and c must be related by the equation a + b = c, (multiplier 
+x y z) expresses the constraint xy = z, and (constant 3.14 x) says 
+that the value of x must be 3.14. 
+
+Our language provides a means of combining primitive constraints 
+in order to express more complex relations. We combine constraints 
+by constructing constraint networks, in which constraints are joined by 
+connectors. A connector is an object that "holds" a value that may par- 
+ticipate in one or more constraints. For example, we know that the re- 
+lationship between Fahrenheit and Celsius temperatures is 
+
+9C = 5(F - 32). 
+
+Such a constraint can be thought of as a network consisting of primitive 
+adder, multiplier, and constant constraints (Figure 3.28). In the figure, 
+we see on the left a multiplier box with three terminals, labeled ml, 
+ml, and p. These connect the multiplier to the rest of the network as 
+follows: The ml terminal is linked to a connector C, which will hold the 
+Celsius temperature. The ml terminal is linked to a connector w, which 
+is also linked to a constant box that holds 9. The p terminal, which the 
+multiplier box constrains to be the product of ml and m2, is linked to 
+the p terminal of another multiplier box, whose m2 is connected to a 
+constant 5 and whose ml is connected to one of the terms in a sum. 
+
+Computation by such a network proceeds as follows: When a con- 
+nector is given a value (by the user or by a constraint box to which 
+it is linked), it awakens all of its associated constraints (except for the 
+constraint that just awakened it) to inform them that it has a value. 
+
+
+
+387 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+■ 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ml 
+
+
+p 
+
+
+u 
+
+
+p 
+
+
+ml 
+
+* 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+m2 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+m2 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+V 
+
+
+
+
+
+9 
+
+V J 
+
+
+
+5 
+
+
+
+
+Figure 3.28: The relation 9C = 5(f - 32) expressed as a 
+constraint network. 
+
+
+
+Each awakened constraint box then polls its connectors to see if there 
+is enough information to determine a value for a connector. If so, the 
+box sets that connector, which then awakens all of its associated con- 
+straints, and so on. For instance, in conversion between Celsius and 
+Fahrenheit, w, x, and y are immediately set by the constant boxes to 9, 
+5, and 32, respectively. The connectors awaken the multipliers and the 
+adder, which determine that there is not enough information to pro- 
+ceed. If the user (or some other part of the network) sets C to a value 
+(say 25), the leftmost multiplier will be awakened, and it will set u to 
+25 • 9 = 225. Then u awakens the second multiplier, which sets v to 45, 
+and v awakens the adder, which sets / to 77. 
+
+Using the constraint system 
+
+To use the constraint system to carry out the temperature computation 
+outlined above, we first create two connectors, C and F, by calling the 
+constructor make-connector, and link C and F in an appropriate net- 
+work: 
+
+(define C (make-connector)) 
+(define F (make-connector)) 
+
+
+
+388 
+
+
+
+(celsius-fahrenheit-converter C F) 
+
+ok 
+
+The procedure that creates the network is defined as follows: 
+
+(define (celsius-fahrenheit-converter c f) 
+(let ((u (make-connector)) 
+
+(v (make-connector)) 
+
+(w (make-connector)) 
+
+(x (make-connector)) 
+
+(y (make-connector))) 
+(multiplier c w u) 
+(multiplier v x u) 
+(adder v y f) 
+(constant 9 w) 
+(constant 5 x) 
+(constant 32 y) 
+'ok)) 
+
+This procedure creates the internal connectors u, v, w, x, and y, and links 
+them as shown in Figure 3.28 using the primitive constraint construc- 
+tors adder, multiplier, and constant. Just as with the digital-circuit 
+simulator of Section 3.3.4, expressing these combinations of primitive 
+elements in terms of procedures automatically provides our language 
+with a means of abstraction for compound objects. 
+
+To watch the network in action, we can place probes on the con- 
+nectors C and F, using a probe procedure similar to the one we used to 
+monitor wires in Section 3.3.4. Placing a probe on a connector will cause 
+a message to be printed whenever the connector is given a value: 
+
+(probe "Celsius temp" C) 
+(probe "Fahrenheit temp" F) 
+
+Next we set the value of C to 25. (The third argument to set-value! 
+tells C that this directive comes from the user.) 
+
+
+
+389 
+
+
+
+(set-value! C 25 'user) 
+Probe: Celsius temp = 25 
+Probe: Fahrenheit temp = 77 
+done 
+
+The probe on C awakens and reports the value. C also propagates its 
+value through the network as described above. This sets F to 77, which 
+is reported by the probe on F. 
+
+Now we can try to set F to a new value, say 212: 
+
+(set-value! F 212 'user) 
+Error! Contradiction (77 212) 
+
+The connector complains that it has sensed a contradiction: Its value is 
+77, and someone is trying to set it to 212. If we really want to reuse the 
+network with new values, we can tell C to forget its old value: 
+
+(forget-value! C 'user) 
+Probe: Celsius temp = ? 
+Probe: Fahrenheit temp = ? 
+done 
+
+C finds that the user, who set its value originally, is now retracting that 
+value, so C agrees to lose its value, as shown by the probe, and informs 
+the rest of the network of this fact. This information eventually prop- 
+agates to F, which now finds that it has no reason for continuing to 
+believe that its own value is 77. Thus, F also gives up its value, as shown 
+by the probe. 
+
+Now that F has no value, we are free to set it to 212: 
+
+(set-value! F 212 'user) 
+Probe: Fahrenheit temp = 212 
+Probe: Celsius temp = 100 
+done 
+
+
+
+390 
+
+
+
+This new value, when propagated through the network, forces C to have 
+a value of 100, and this is registered by the probe on C. Notice that the 
+very same network is being used to compute C given F and to compute 
+F given C. This nondirectionality of computation is the distinguishing 
+feature of constraint-based systems. 
+
+Implementing the constraint system 
+
+The constraint system is implemented via procedural objects with local 
+state, in a manner very similar to the digital- circuit simulator of Sec- 
+tion 3.3.4. Although the primitive objects of the constraint system are 
+somewhat more complex, the overall system is simpler, since there is 
+no concern about agendas and logic delays. 
+
+The basic operations on connectors are the following: 
+
+• (has-value? (connector)) tells whether the connector has a 
+value. 
+
+• (get-value (connector)) returns the connector's current value. 
+
+• (set-value! (connector) (new-value) ( informant)) indicates 
+that the informant is requesting the connector to set its value to 
+the new value. 
+
+• (forget-value! (connector) (retractor)) tells the connector 
+that the retractor is requesting it to forget its value. 
+
+• (connect (connector) (new-constraint)) tells the connector 
+to participate in the new constraint. 
+
+The connectors communicate with the constraints by means of the pro- 
+cedures inform-about-value, which tells the given constraint that the 
+
+
+
+391 
+
+
+
+connector has a value, and inform-about-no-value, which tells the 
+constraint that the connector has lost its value. 
+
+Adder constructs an adder constraint among summand connectors 
+a1 and a2 and a sum connector. An adder is implemented as a procedure 
+with local state (the procedure me below): 
+
+(define (adder al a2 sum) 
+(define (process-new-value) 
+
+(cond ((and (has-value? al) (has-value? a2)) 
+(set-value! sum 
+
+(+ (get-value a1) (get-value a2)) 
+me)) 
+
+((and (has-value? a1) (has-value? sum)) 
+(set-value! a2 
+
+(- (get-value sum) (get-value a1)) 
+me)) 
+
+((and (has-value? a2) (has-value? sum)) 
+(set-value! a1 
+
+(- (get-value sum) (get-value a2)) 
+me)))) 
+
+(define (process-forget-value) 
+
+(forget-value ! sum me) 
+
+(forget-value ! a1 me) 
+
+(forget-value! a2 me) 
+
+(process-new-value) ) 
+(define (me request) 
+
+(cond ((eq? request ' I-have-a-value) (process-new-value)) 
+
+((eq? request ' I-lost-my-value) (process-forget-value)) 
+(else (error "Unknown request: ADDER" request)))) 
+(connect a1 me) 
+(connect a2 me) 
+(connect sum me) 
+me) 
+
+
+
+392 
+
+
+
+Adder connects the new adder to the designated connectors and returns 
+it as its value. The procedure me, which represents the adder, acts as a 
+dispatch to the local procedures. The following "syntax interfaces" (see 
+Footnote 27 in Section 3.3.4) are used in conjunction with the dispatch: 
+
+(define (inform-about-value constraint) 
+
+(constraint ' I-have-a-value) ) 
+(define (inform-about-no-value constraint) 
+
+(constraint ' I-lost-my-value) ) 
+
+The adder's local procedure process- new- value is called when the adder 
+is informed that one of its connectors has a value. The adder first checks 
+to see if both a1 and a2 have values. If so, it tells sum to set its value to 
+the sum of the two addends. The informant argument to set-value! is 
+me, which is the adder object itself. If a1 and a 2 do not both have values, 
+then the adder checks to see if perhaps a1 and sum have values. If so, it 
+sets a2 to the difference of these two. Finally, if a2 and sum have values, 
+this gives the adder enough information to set a1 . If the adder is told 
+that one of its connectors has lost a value, it requests that all of its con- 
+nectors now lose their values. (Only those values that were set by this 
+adder are actually lost.) Then it runs process-new-value. The reason 
+for this last step is that one or more connectors may still have a value 
+(that is, a connector may have had a value that was not originally set by 
+the adder), and these values may need to be propagated back through 
+the adder. 
+
+A multiplier is very similar to an adder. It will set its product to 0 if 
+either of the factors is 0, even if the other factor is not known. 
+
+(define (multiplier ml m2 product) 
+(define (process-new-value) 
+
+(cond ((or (and (has-value? ml) (= (get-value ml ) 0)) 
+
+(and (has-value? m2) (= (get-value m2) 0))) 
+
+
+
+393 
+
+
+
+(set-value! product 0 me)) 
+((and (has-value? ml) (has-value? m2)) 
+(set-value! product 
+
+(* (get-value ml) (get-value m2)) 
+
+me)) 
+
+((and (has-value? product) (has-value? ml)) 
+(set-value! m2 
+
+(/ (get-value product) 
+
+(get-value ml)) 
+me)) 
+
+((and (has-value? product) (has-value? m2)) 
+(set-value! ml 
+
+(/ (get-value product) 
+
+(get-value m2)) 
+me)))) 
+
+(define (process-forget-value) 
+(forget-value ! product me) 
+(forget-value ! ml me) 
+(forget-value! m2 me) 
+(process-new-value) ) 
+(define (me request) 
+
+(cond ((eq? request ' I-have-a-value) (process-new-value)) 
+
+((eq? request ' I-lost-my-value) (process-forget-value)) 
+(else (error "Unknown request: MULTIPLIER" 
+request)))) 
+
+(connect ml me) 
+(connect m2 me) 
+(connect product me) 
+me) 
+
+A constant constructor simply sets the value of the designated con- 
+nector. Any I-have-a-value or I-lost-my-value message sent to the 
+constant box will produce an error. 
+
+
+
+394 
+
+
+
+(define (constant value connector) 
+(define (me request) 
+
+(error "Unknown request: CONSTANT" request)) 
+(connect connector me) 
+(set-value! connector value me) 
+me) 
+
+Finally, a probe prints a message about the setting or unsetting of the 
+designated connector: 
+
+(define (probe name connector) 
+(define (print-probe value) 
+
+(newline) (display "Probe: ") (display name) 
+(display " = ") (display value)) 
+(define (process-new-value) 
+
+(print-probe (get-value connector))) 
+(define (process-forget-value) (print-probe "?")) 
+(define (me request) 
+
+(cond ((eq? request ' I-have-a-value) (process-new-value)) 
+
+((eq? request ' I-lost-my-value) (process-forget-value)) 
+(else (error "Unknown request: PROBE" request)))) 
+(connect connector me) 
+me) 
+
+Representing connectors 
+
+A connector is represented as a procedural object with local state vari- 
+ables value, the current value of the connector; informant, the object 
+that set the connector's value; and constraints, a list of the constraints 
+in which the connector participates. 
+
+(define (make-connector) 
+
+(let ((value false) (informant false) (constraints '())) 
+(define (set-my-value newval setter) 
+
+
+
+395 
+
+
+
+(cond ((not (has-value? me)) 
+(set! value newval) 
+(set! informant setter) 
+(for-each-except setter 
+
+inform-about- value 
+constraints)) 
+((not (= value newval)) 
+
+(error "Contradiction" (list value newval))) 
+(else 'ignored))) 
+(define (forget-my-value retractor) 
+(if (eq? retractor informant) 
+
+(begin (set! informant false) 
+
+(for-each-except retractor 
+
+inf orm-about-no- value 
+constraints)) 
+
+'ignored)) 
+(define (connect new-constraint) 
+
+(if (not (memq new-constraint constraints)) 
+(set! constraints 
+
+(cons new-constraint constraints))) 
+(if (has-value? me) 
+
+(inform-about-value new-constraint)) 
+'done) 
+(define (me request) 
+
+(cond ((eq? request 'has-value?) 
+
+(if informant true false)) 
+((eq? request 'value) value) 
+((eq? request 'set-value!) set-my-value) 
+((eq? request 'forget) forget-my-value) 
+((eq? request 'connect) connect) 
+(else (error "Unknown operation: CONNECTOR" 
+request)))) 
+
+me)) 
+
+
+
+396 
+
+
+
+The connector's local procedure set -my- value is called when there is 
+a request to set the connector's value. If the connector does not cur- 
+rently have a value, it will set its value and remember as informant 
+the constraint that requested the value to be set. 32 Then the connector 
+will notify all of its participating constraints except the constraint that 
+requested the value to be set. This is accomplished using the follow- 
+ing iterator, which applies a designated procedure to all items in a list 
+except a given one: 
+
+(define (for-each-except exception procedure list) 
+(define (loop items) 
+
+(cond ((null? items) 'done) 
+
+((eq? (car items) exception) (loop (cdr items))) 
+(else (procedure (car items)) 
+(loop (cdr items))))) 
+
+(loop list)) 
+
+If a connector is asked to forget its value, it runs the local procedure 
+forget-my-value, which first checks to make sure that the request is 
+coming from the same object that set the value originally. If so, the con- 
+nector informs its associated constraints about the loss of the value. 
+
+The local procedure connect adds the designated new constraint to 
+the list of constraints if it is not already in that list. Then, if the connector 
+has a value, it informs the new constraint of this fact. 
+
+The connector's procedure me serves as a dispatch to the other in- 
+ternal procedures and also represents the connector as an object. The 
+following procedures provide a syntax interface for the dispatch: 
+
+(define (has-value? connector) 
+(connector 'has-value?)) 
+
+32 The setter might not be a constraint. In our temperature example, we used user 
+as the setter. 
+
+
+
+397 
+
+
+
+(define (get-value connector) 
+
+(connector 'value)) 
+(define (set-value! connector new-value informant) 
+
+((connector 'set-value!) new-value informant)) 
+(define (forget-value ! connector retractor) 
+
+((connector 'forget) retractor)) 
+(define (connect connector new-constraint) 
+
+((connector 'connect) new-constraint)) 
+
+
+
+Exercise 3.33: Using primitive multiplier, adder, and con- 
+stant constraints, define a procedure averager that takes 
+three connectors a, b, and c as inputs and establishes the 
+constraint that the value of c is the average of the values of 
+a and b. 
+
+Exercise 3.34: Louis Reasoner wants to build a squarer, a 
+constraint device with two terminals such that the value 
+of connector b on the second terminal will always be the 
+square of the value a on the first terminal. He proposes the 
+following simple device made from a multiplier: 
+
+(define (squarer a b) 
+(multiplier a a b)) 
+
+There is a serious flaw in this idea. Explain. 
+
+Exercise 3.35: Ben Bitdiddle tells Louis that one way to 
+avoid the trouble in Exercise 3.34 is to define a squarer 
+as a new primitive constraint. Fill in the missing portions 
+in Ben's outline for a procedure to implement such a con- 
+straint: 
+
+
+
+398 
+
+
+
+(define (squarer a b) 
+
+(define (process-new-value) 
+(if (has-value? b) 
+
+(if (< (get-value b) 0) 
+
+(error "square less than 0: SQUARER" 
+
+(get-value b)) 
+(alternative!)) 
+(alternative?))) 
+(define (process-forget-value) (body!)) 
+(define (me request) (body2)) 
+(rest of definition) 
+me) 
+
+Exercise 3.36: Suppose we evaluate the following sequence 
+of expressions in the global environment: 
+
+(define a (make-connector)) 
+(define b (make-connector)) 
+(set-value! a 10 'user) 
+
+At some time during evaluation of the set-value ! , the fol- 
+lowing expression from the connector's local procedure is 
+evaluated: 
+
+(for-each-except 
+
+setter inform-about-value constraints) 
+
+Draw an environment diagram showing the environment 
+in which the above expression is evaluated. 
+
+Exercise 3.37: The celsius-fahrenheit-converter pro- 
+cedure is cumbersome when compared with a more expression- 
+oriented style of definition, such as 
+
+
+
+399 
+
+
+
+(define (celsius-f ahrenheit-converter x) 
+
+(c+ (c* (c/ (cv 9) (cv 5)) 
+x) 
+
+(cv 32))) 
+(define C (make-connector)) 
+(define F (celsius-fahrenheit-converter C)) 
+
+Here c+, c*, etc. are the "constraint" versions of the arith- 
+metic operations. For example, c+ takes two connectors as 
+arguments and returns a connector that is related to these 
+by an adder constraint: 
+
+(define (c+ x y) 
+
+(let ((z (make-connector))) 
+(adder x y z) 
+z)) 
+
+Define analogous procedures c~, c*, c/, and cv (constant 
+value) that enable us to define compound constraints as in 
+the converter example above. 33 
+
+33 The expression-oriented format is convenient because it avoids the need to name 
+the intermediate expressions in a computation. Our original formulation of the con- 
+straint language is cumbersome in the same way that many languages are cumbersome 
+when dealing with operations on compound data. For example, if we wanted to com- 
+pute the product (a + b) ■ (c + d), where the variables represent vectors, we could work in 
+"imperative style," using procedures that set the values of designated vector arguments 
+but do not themselves return vectors as values: 
+
+(v-sum a b tempi) 
+(v-sum c d temp2) 
+(v-prod tempi temp2 answer) 
+
+Alternatively, we could deal with expressions, using procedures that return vectors as 
+values, and thus avoid explicitly mentioning tempi and temp2: 
+
+(define answer (v-prod (v-sum a b) (v-sum c d))) 
+
+
+
+400 
+
+
+
+3.4 Concurrency: Time Is of the Essence 
+
+
+
+We've seen the power of computational objects with local state as tools 
+for modeling. Yet, as Section 3.1.3 warned, this power extracts a price: 
+the loss of referential transparency, giving rise to a thicket of questions 
+about sameness and change, and the need to abandon the substitution 
+model of evaluation in favor of the more intricate environment model. 
+
+The central issue lurking beneath the complexity of state, sameness, 
+and change is that by introducing assignment we are forced to admit 
+time into our computational models. Before we introduced assignment, 
+all our programs were timeless, in the sense that any expression that 
+has a value always has the same value. In contrast, recall the example of 
+modeling withdrawals from a bank account and returning the resulting 
+balance, introduced at the beginning of Section 3.1.1: 
+
+(withdraw 25) 
+
+75 
+
+(withdraw 25) 
+
+50 
+
+
+
+Since Lisp allows us to return compound objects as values of procedures, we can trans- 
+form our imperative-style constraint language into an expression-oriented style as 
+shown in this exercise. In languages that are impoverished in handling compound ob- 
+jects, such as Algol, Basic, and Pascal (unless one explicitly uses Pascal pointer vari- 
+ables), one is usually stuck with the imperative style when manipulating compound 
+objects. Given the advantage of the expression-oriented format, one might ask if there 
+is any reason to have implemented the system in imperative style, as we did in this 
+section. One reason is that the non-expression-oriented constraint language provides 
+a handle on constraint objects (e.g., the value of the adder procedure) as well as on 
+connector objects. This is useful if we wish to extend the system with new operations 
+that communicate with constraints directly rather than only indirectly via operations 
+on connectors. Although it is easy to implement the expression-oriented style in terms 
+of the imperative implementation, it is very difficult to do the converse. 
+
+
+
+401 
+
+
+
+Here successive evaluations of the same expression yield different val- 
+ues. This behavior arises from the fact that the execution of assignment 
+statements (in this case, assignments to the variable balance) delineates 
+moments in time when values change. The result of evaluating an ex- 
+pression depends not only on the expression itself, but also on whether 
+the evaluation occurs before or after these moments. Building models 
+in terms of computational objects with local state forces us to confront 
+time as an essential concept in programming. 
+
+We can go further in structuring computational models to match our 
+perception of the physical world. Objects in the world do not change 
+one at a time in sequence. Rather we perceive them as acting concur- 
+rently—all at once. So it is often natural to model systems as collections 
+of computational processes that execute concurrently. Just as we can 
+make our programs modular by organizing models in terms of objects 
+with separate local state, it is often appropriate to divide computational 
+models into parts that evolve separately and concurrently. Even if the 
+programs are to be executed on a sequential computer, the practice of 
+writing programs as if they were to be executed concurrently forces 
+the programmer to avoid inessential timing constraints and thus makes 
+programs more modular. 
+
+In addition to making programs more modular, concurrent compu- 
+tation can provide a speed advantage over sequential computation. Se- 
+quential computers execute only one operation at a time, so the amount 
+of time it takes to perform a task is proportional to the total number 
+of operations performed. 34 However, if it is possible to decompose a 
+
+34 Most real processors actually execute a few operations at a time, following a strat- 
+egy called pipelining. Although this technique greatly improves the effective utilization 
+of the hardware, it is used only to speed up the execution of a sequential instruction 
+stream, while retaining the behavior of the sequential program. 
+
+
+
+402 
+
+
+
+problem into pieces that are relatively independent and need to com- 
+municate only rarely, it may be possible to allocate pieces to separate 
+computing processors, producing a speed advantage proportional to the 
+number of processors available. 
+
+Unfortunately, the complexities introduced by assignment become 
+even more problematic in the presence of concurrency. The fact of con- 
+current execution, either because the world operates in parallel or be- 
+cause our computers do, entails additional complexity in our under- 
+standing of time. 
+
+3.4.1 The Nature of Time in Concurrent Systems 
+
+On the surface, time seems straightforward. It is an ordering imposed 
+on events. 35 For any events A and B, either A occurs before B, A and 
+B are simultaneous, or A occurs after B. For instance, returning to the 
+bank account example, suppose that Peter withdraws $10 and Paul with- 
+draws $25 from a joint account that initially contains $100, leaving $65 
+in the account. Depending on the order of the two withdrawals, the 
+sequence of balances in the account is either $100 — > $90 — » $65 or 
+$100 — > $75 — > $65 . In a computer implementation of the banking sys- 
+tem, this changing sequence of balances could be modeled by successive 
+assignments to a variable balance. 
+
+In complex situations, however, such a view can be problematic. 
+Suppose that Peter and Paul, and other people besides, are accessing the 
+same bank account through a network of banking machines distributed 
+all over the world. The actual sequence of balances in the account will 
+depend critically on the detailed timing of the accesses and the details 
+of the communication among the machines. 
+
+35 To quote some graffiti seen on a Cambridge building wall: "Time is a device that 
+was invented to keep everything from happening at once." 
+
+
+
+403 
+
+
+
+This indeterminacy in the order of events can pose serious prob- 
+lems in the design of concurrent systems. For instance, suppose that the 
+withdrawals made by Peter and Paul are implemented as two separate 
+processes sharing a common variable balance, each process specified 
+by the procedure given in Section 3.1.1: 
+
+(define (withdraw amount) 
+(if (>= balance amount) 
+(begin 
+
+(set! balance (- balance amount)) 
+balance) 
+"Insufficient funds")) 
+
+If the two processes operate independently, then Peter might test the 
+balance and attempt to withdraw a legitimate amount. However, Paul 
+might withdraw some funds in between the time that Peter checks the 
+balance and the time Peter completes the withdrawal, thus invalidating 
+Peter's test. 
+
+Things can be worse still. Consider the expression 
+(set! balance (- balance amount)) 
+
+executed as part of each withdrawal process. This consists of three steps: 
+(1) accessing the value of the balance variable; (2) computing the new 
+balance; (3) setting balance to this new value. If Peter and Paul's with- 
+drawals execute this statement concurrently, then the two withdrawals 
+might interleave the order in which they access balance and set it to 
+the new value. 
+
+The timing diagram in Figure 3.29 depicts an order of events where 
+balance starts at 100, Peter withdraws 10, Paul withdraws 25, and yet 
+the final value of balance is 75. As shown in the diagram, the reason for 
+this anomaly is that Paul's assignment of 75 to balance is made under 
+the assumption that the value of balance to be decremented is 100. That 
+
+
+
+404 
+
+
+
+Peter 
+
+
+
+Bank 
+
+
+
+Paul 
+
+
+
+Access balance: $100 ) 
+
+
+
+r new value: 100-10=90 J 
+
+
+
+r set! balance to $90 J 
+
+
+
+time 
+
+
+
+
+$100 
+
+
+
+►(^$90^ 
+
+
+
+0- 
+
+
+
+r" Access balance: $100 "j 
+
+
+
+f new value: 100-25=75 J 
+
+
+
+set! balance to $75 ^ 
+
+
+
+Figure 3.29: Timing diagram showing how interleaving 
+the order of events in two banking withdrawals can lead 
+to an incorrect final balance. 
+
+
+
+405 
+
+
+
+assumption, however, became invalid when Peter changed balance to 
+90. This is a catastrophic failure for the banking system, because the 
+total amount of money in the system is not conserved. Before the trans- 
+actions, the total amount of money was $100. Afterwards, Peter has $10, 
+Paul has $25, and the bank has $75. 36 
+
+The general phenomenon illustrated here is that several processes 
+may share a common state variable. What makes this complicated is that 
+more than one process may be trying to manipulate the shared state at 
+the same time. For the bank account example, during each transaction, 
+each customer should be able to act as if the other customers did not 
+exist. When a customer changes the balance in a way that depends on 
+the balance, he must be able to assume that, just before the moment of 
+change, the balance is still what he thought it was. 
+
+Correct behavior of concurrent programs 
+
+The above example typifies the subtle bugs that can creep into concur- 
+rent programs. The root of this complexity lies in the assignments to 
+variables that are shared among the different processes. We already 
+know that we must be careful in writing programs that use set!, be- 
+cause the results of a computation depend on the order in which the 
+
+36 An even worse failure for this system could occur if the two set! operations at- 
+tempt to change the balance simultaneously, in which case the actual data appearing 
+in memory might end up being a random combination of the information being writ- 
+ten by the two processes. Most computers have interlocks on the primitive memory- 
+write operations, which protect against such simultaneous access. Even this seemingly 
+simple kind of protection, however, raises implementation challenges in the design of 
+multiprocessing computers, where elaborate cache-coherence protocols are required to 
+ensure that the various processors will maintain a consistent view of memory contents, 
+despite the fact that data may be replicated ("cached") among the different processors 
+to increase the speed of memory access. 
+
+
+
+406 
+
+
+
+assignments occur. 37 With concurrent processes we must be especially 
+careful about assignments, because we may not be able to control the 
+order of the assignments made by the different processes. If several such 
+changes might be made concurrently (as with two depositors accessing 
+a joint account) we need some way to ensure that our system behaves 
+correctly. For example, in the case of withdrawals from a joint bank ac- 
+count, we must ensure that money is conserved. To make concurrent 
+programs behave correctly, we may have to place some restrictions on 
+concurrent execution. 
+
+One possible restriction on concurrency would stipulate that no two 
+operations that change any shared state variables can occur at the same 
+time. This is an extremely stringent requirement. For distributed bank- 
+ing, it would require the system designer to ensure that only one trans- 
+action could proceed at a time. This would be both inefficient and overly 
+conservative. Figure 3.30 shows Peter and Paul sharing a bank account, 
+where Paul has a private account as well. The diagram illustrates two 
+withdrawals from the shared account (one by Peter and one by Paul) 
+and a deposit to Paul's private account. 38 The two withdrawals from 
+the shared account must not be concurrent (since both access and up- 
+date the same account), and Paul's deposit and withdrawal must not be 
+concurrent (since both access and update the amount in Paul's wallet). 
+But there should be no problem permitting Paul's deposit to his pri- 
+vate account to proceed concurrently with Peter's withdrawal from the 
+shared account. 
+
+A less stringent restriction on concurrency would ensure that a con- 
+
+37 The factorial program in Section 3.1.3 illustrates this for a single sequential process. 
+
+38 1he columns show the contents of Peter's wallet, the joint account (in Bankl), 
+Paul's wallet, and Paul's private account (in Bank2), before and after each withdrawal 
+(W) and deposit (D). Peter withdraws $10 from Bankl; Paul deposits $5 in Bank2, then 
+withdraws $25 from Bankl. 
+
+
+
+407 
+
+
+
+Peter Bankl Paul Bank2 
+
+
+
+
+time 
+
+Figure 3.30: Concurrent deposits and withdrawals from a 
+joint account in Bankl and a private account in Bank2. 
+
+current system produces the same result as if the processes had run 
+sequentially in some order. There are two important aspects to this re- 
+quirement. First, it does not require the processes to actually run se- 
+quentially, but only to produce results that are the same as if they had 
+run sequentially. For the example in Figure 3.30, the designer of the 
+bank account system can safely allow Paul's deposit and Peter's with- 
+drawal to happen concurrently, because the net result will be the same 
+as if the two operations had happened sequentially. Second, there may 
+be more than one possible "correct" result produced by a concurrent 
+program, because we require only that the result be the same as for 
+
+
+
+408 
+
+
+
+some sequential order. For example, suppose that Peter and Paul's joint 
+account starts out with $100, and Peter deposits $40 while Paul concur- 
+rently withdraws half the money in the account. Then sequential exe- 
+cution could result in the account balance being either $70 or $90 (see 
+Exercise 3. 38). 39 
+
+There are still weaker requirements for correct execution of con- 
+current programs. A program for simulating diffusion (say, the flow of 
+heat in an object) might consist of a large number of processes, each 
+one representing a small volume of space, that update their values con- 
+currently. Each process repeatedly changes its value to the average of 
+its own value and its neighbors' values. This algorithm converges to the 
+right answer independent of the order in which the operations are done; 
+there is no need for any restrictions on concurrent use of the shared val- 
+ues. 
+
+Exercise 3.38: Suppose that Peter, Paul, and Mary share 
+a joint bank account that initially contains $100. Concur- 
+rently, Peter deposits $10, Paul withdraws $20, and Mary 
+withdraws half the money in the account, by executing the 
+following commands: 
+
+Peter: (set! balance (+ balance 10)) 
+Paul: (set! balance (- balance 20)) 
+Mary: (set! balance (- balance (/ balance 2))) 
+
+a. List all the different possible values for balance after 
+these three transactions have been completed, assum- 
+
+39 A more formal way to express this idea is to say that concurrent programs are 
+inherently nondeterministic. That is, they are described not by single-valued functions, 
+but by functions whose results are sets of possible values. In Section 4.3 we will study 
+a language for expressing nondeterministic computations. 
+
+
+
+409 
+
+
+
+ing that the banking system forces the three processes 
+to run sequentially in some order. 
+
+b. What are some other values that could be produced 
+if the system allows the processes to be interleaved? 
+Draw timing diagrams like the one in Figure 3.29 to 
+explain how these values can occur. 
+
+3.4.2 Mechanisms for Controlling Concurrency 
+
+We've seen that the difficulty in dealing with concurrent processes is 
+rooted in the need to consider the interleaving of the order of events in 
+the different processes. For example, suppose we have two processes, 
+one with three ordered events (a,b,c) and one with three ordered events 
+(x, y, z). If the two processes run concurrently, with no constraints on 
+how their execution is interleaved, then there are 20 different possible 
+orderings for the events that are consistent with the individual order- 
+ings for the two processes: 
+
+(a,b,c,x,y,z) (a,x,b,y,c,z) (x , a , b , c , y , z) (x,a,y,z,b,c) 
+(a,b,x,c,y,z) (a,x,b,y,z,c) (x,a,b,y,c,z) (x,y,a,b,c,z) 
+(a,b,x,y,c,z) (a,x,y,b,c,z) (x,a,b,y,z,c) (x,y,a,b,z,c) 
+(a,b,x,y,z,c) (a,x,y,b,z,c) (x,a,y,b,c,z) (x,y,a,z,b,c) 
+(a,x,b,c,y,z) (a,x,y,z,b,c) (x,a,y,b,z,c) (x,y,z,a,b,c) 
+
+As programmers designing this system, we would have to consider the 
+effects of each of these 20 orderings and check that each behavior is 
+acceptable. Such an approach rapidly becomes unwieldy as the numbers 
+of processes and events increase. 
+
+A more practical approach to the design of concurrent systems is to 
+devise general mechanisms that allow us to constrain the interleaving of 
+concurrent processes so that we can be sure that the program behavior 
+
+
+
+410 
+
+
+
+is correct. Many mechanisms have been developed for this purpose. In 
+this section, we describe one of them, the serializer. 
+
+Serializing access to shared state 
+
+Serialization implements the following idea: Processes will execute con- 
+currently, but there will be certain collections of procedures that cannot 
+be executed concurrently. More precisely, serialization creates distin- 
+guished sets of procedures such that only one execution of a procedure 
+in each serialized set is permitted to happen at a time. If some procedure 
+in the set is being executed, then a process that attempts to execute any 
+procedure in the set will be forced to wait until the first execution has 
+finished. 
+
+We can use serialization to control access to shared variables. For 
+example, if we want to update a shared variable based on the previ- 
+ous value of that variable, we put the access to the previous value of 
+the variable and the assignment of the new value to the variable in the 
+same procedure. We then ensure that no other procedure that assigns 
+to the variable can run concurrently with this procedure by serializing 
+all of these procedures with the same serializer. This guarantees that 
+the value of the variable cannot be changed between an access and the 
+corresponding assignment. 
+
+Serializers in Scheme 
+
+To make the above mechanism more concrete, suppose that we have 
+extended Scheme to include a procedure called parallel-execute: 
+
+(parallel-execute (pi) (p 2 ) ... (pk)) 
+
+Each (p) must be a procedure of no arguments. Parallel-execute cre- 
+ates a separate process for each (p), which applies (p) (to no argu- 
+
+
+
+411 
+
+
+
+ments). These processes all run concurrently. 40 
+As an example of how this is used, consider 
+
+(define x 10) 
+(parallel -execute 
+
+(lambda () (set! x (* x x))) 
+
+(lambda () (set! x (+ x 1)))) 
+
+This creates two concurrent processes— P 1; which sets x to x times x, 
+and P 2 , which increments x. After execution is complete, x will be left 
+with one of five possible values, depending on the interleaving of the 
+events of Pi and P2: 
+
+101: Pi sets x to 100 and then P 2 increments x to 101. 
+121: P 2 increments x to 11 and then Pi sets x to x * x. 
+110: P 2 changes x from 10 to 11 between the two times that 
+
+Pi accesses the value of x during the evaluation of (* x x). 
+11: P 2 accesses x, then Pi sets x to 100, then P 2 sets x. 
+1 00 : Pi accesses x (twice), then P 2 sets x to 11, then Pi sets x. 
+
+We can constrain the concurrency by using serialized procedures, which 
+are created by serializers. Serializers are constructed bymake-serializer, 
+whose implementation is given below. A serializer takes a procedure as 
+argument and returns a serialized procedure that behaves like the origi- 
+nal procedure. All calls to a given serializer return serialized procedures 
+in the same set. 
+
+Thus, in contrast to the example above, executing 
+
+(define x 10) 
+
+40 Parallel-execute is not part of standard Scheme, but it can be implemented in 
+mit Scheme. In our implementation, the new concurrent processes also run concur- 
+rently with the original Scheme process. Also, in our implementation, the value re- 
+turned by parallel-execute is a special control object that can be used to halt the 
+newly created processes. 
+
+
+
+412 
+
+
+
+(define s (make-serializer)) 
+(parallel -execute 
+
+(s (lambda () (set! x (* x x)))) 
+
+(s (lambda () (set! x (+ x 1))))) 
+
+can produce only two possible values for x, 101 or 121. The other pos- 
+sibilities are eliminated, because the execution of Pi and P 2 cannot be 
+interleaved. 
+
+Here is a version of the make-account procedure from Section 3.1.1, 
+where the deposits and withdrawals have been serialized: 
+
+(define (make-account balance) 
+(define (withdraw amount) 
+(if (>= balance amount) 
+
+(begin (set! balance (- balance amount)) 
+
+balance) 
+"Insufficient funds")) 
+(define (deposit amount) 
+
+(set! balance (+ balance amount)) 
+balance) 
+
+(let ((protected (make-serializer))) 
+(define (dispatch m) 
+
+(cond ((eq? m 'withdraw) (protected withdraw)) 
+((eq? m 'deposit) (protected deposit)) 
+((eq? m 'balance) balance) 
+
+(else (error "Unknown request: MAKE-ACCOUNT" 
+m)))) 
+
+dispatch) ) 
+
+With this implementation, two processes cannot be withdrawing from 
+or depositing into a single account concurrently. This eliminates the 
+source of the error illustrated in Figure 3.29, where Peter changes the 
+account balance between the times when Paul accesses the balance to 
+compute the new value and when Paul actually performs the assign- 
+
+
+
+413 
+
+
+
+ment. On the other hand, each account has its own serializer, so that 
+deposits and withdrawals for different accounts can proceed concur- 
+rently. 
+
+Exercise 3.39: Which of the five possibilities in the par- 
+allel execution shown above remain if we instead serialize 
+execution as follows: 
+
+(define x 10) 
+
+(define s (make-serializer)) 
+(parallel-execute 
+
+(lambda () (set! x ((s (lambda () (* x x)))))) 
+
+(s (lambda () (set! x (+ x 1))))) 
+
+Exercise 3.40: Give all possible values of x that can result 
+from executing 
+
+(define x 10) 
+
+(parallel-execute (lambda () (set! x (* x x))) 
+
+(lambda () (set! x (* x x x)))) 
+
+Which of these possibilities remain if we instead use seri- 
+alized procedures: 
+
+(define x 10) 
+
+(define s (make-serializer)) 
+
+(parallel-execute (s (lambda () (set! x (* x x)))) 
+
+(s (lambda () (set! x (* x x x))))) 
+
+Exercise 3.4T: Ben Bitdiddle worries that it would be bet- 
+ter to implement the bank account as follows (where the 
+commented line has been changed): 
+
+
+
+414 
+
+
+
+(define (make-account balance) 
+(define (withdraw amount) 
+(if (>= balance amount) 
+(begin (set! balance 
+
+(- balance amount)) 
+balance) 
+"Insufficient funds")) 
+(define (deposit amount) 
+
+(set! balance (+ balance amount)) 
+balance) 
+
+(let ((protected (make-serializer))) 
+(define (dispatch m) 
+
+(cond ((eq? m 'withdraw) (protected withdraw)) 
+((eq? m 'deposit) (protected deposit)) 
+((eq? m 'balance) 
+( (protected 
+
+(lambda () balance)))) ; serialized 
+(else 
+
+(error "Unknown request: MAKE-ACCOUNT" 
+m)))) 
+
+dispatch) ) 
+
+because allowing unserialized access to the bank balance 
+can result in anomalous behavior. Do you agree? Is there 
+any scenario that demonstrates Ben's concern? 
+
+Exercise 3.42: Ben Bitdiddle suggests that it's a waste of 
+time to create a new serialized procedure in response to 
+every withdraw and deposit message. He says that make- 
+account could be changed so that the calls to protected 
+are done outside the dispatch procedure. That is, an ac- 
+count would return the same serialized procedure (which 
+
+
+
+415 
+
+
+
+was created at the same time as the account) each time it is 
+asked for a withdrawal procedure. 
+
+(define (make-account balance) 
+(define (withdraw amount) 
+(if (>= balance amount) 
+
+(begin (set! balance (- balance amount)) 
+
+balance) 
+"Insufficient funds")) 
+(define (deposit amount) 
+
+(set! balance (+ balance amount)) 
+balance) 
+
+(let ((protected (make-serializer))) 
+
+(let ((protected-withdraw (protected withdraw)) 
+(protected-deposit (protected deposit))) 
+(define (dispatch m) 
+
+(cond ((eq? m 'withdraw) protected-withdraw) 
+((eq? m 'deposit) protected-deposit) 
+((eq? m 'balance) balance) 
+(else 
+
+(error "Unknown request: MAKE-ACCOUNT" 
+m)))) 
+
+dispatch))) 
+
+Is this a safe change to make? In particular, is there any dif- 
+ference in what concurrency is allowed by these two ver- 
+sions of make-account? 
+
+Complexity of using multiple shared resources 
+
+Serializers provide a powerful abstraction that helps isolate the com- 
+plexities of concurrent programs so that they can be dealt with carefully 
+and (hopefully) correctly. However, while using serializers is relatively 
+
+
+
+416 
+
+
+
+straightforward when there is only a single shared resource (such as 
+a single bank account), concurrent programming can be treacherously 
+difficult when there are multiple shared resources. 
+
+To illustrate one of the difficulties that can arise, suppose we wish to 
+swap the balances in two bank accounts. We access each account to find 
+the balance, compute the difference between the balances, withdraw 
+this difference from one account, and deposit it in the other account. 
+We could implement this as follows: 41 
+
+(define (exchange accountl account2) 
+
+(let ((difference (- (accountl 'balance) 
+
+(account2 'balance)))) 
+((accountl 'withdraw) difference) 
+((account2 'deposit) difference))) 
+
+This procedure works well when only a single process is trying to do 
+the exchange. Suppose, however, that Peter and Paul both have access 
+to accounts al, al, and a3, and that Peter exchanges al and al while 
+Paul concurrently exchanges al and a3. Even with account deposits and 
+withdrawals serialized for individual accounts (as in the make-account 
+procedure shown above in this section), exchange can still produce in- 
+correct results. For example, Peter might compute the difference in the 
+balances for al and al, but then Paul might change the balance in al 
+before Peter is able to complete the exchange. 42 For correct behavior, 
+we must arrange for the exchange procedure to lock out any other con- 
+current accesses to the accounts during the entire time of the exchange. 
+
+41 We have simplified exchange by exploiting the fact that our deposit message ac- 
+cepts negative amounts. (This is a serious bug in our banking system!) 
+
+42 If the account balances start out as $10, $20, and $30, then after any number of 
+concurrent exchanges, the balances should still be $10, $20, and $30 in some order. 
+Serializing the deposits to individual accounts is not sufficient to guarantee this. See 
+Exercise 3.43. 
+
+
+
+417 
+
+
+
+One way we can accomplish this is by using both accounts' seri- 
+alizes to serialize the entire exchange procedure. To do this, we will 
+arrange for access to an account's serializer. Note that we are deliber- 
+ately breaking the modularity of the bank-account object by exposing 
+the serializer. The following version of make-account is identical to the 
+original version given in Section 3.1.1, except that a serializer is pro- 
+vided to protect the balance variable, and the serializer is exported via 
+message passing: 
+
+(define (make-account-and-serializer balance) 
+(define (withdraw amount) 
+(if (>= balance amount) 
+
+(begin (set! balance (- balance amount)) 
+
+balance) 
+"Insufficient funds")) 
+(define (deposit amount) 
+
+(set! balance (+ balance amount)) 
+balance) 
+
+(let ((balance-serializer (make-serializer))) 
+(define (dispatch m) 
+
+(cond ((eq? m 'withdraw) withdraw) 
+((eq? m 'deposit) deposit) 
+((eq? m 'balance) balance) 
+((eq? m 'serializer) balance-serializer) 
+(else (error "Unknown request: MAKE-ACCOUNT" m)))) 
+dispatch)) 
+
+We can use this to do serialized deposits and withdrawals. However, 
+unlike our earlier serialized account, it is now the responsibility of each 
+user of bank-account objects to explicitly manage the serialization, for 
+example as follows: 43 
+
+
+
+Exercise 3.45 investigates why deposits and withdrawals are no longer automati- 
+cally serialized by the account. 
+
+418 
+
+
+
+(define (deposit account amount) 
+(let ((s (account ' serialize!")) 
+(d (account 'deposit))) 
+((s d) amount))) 
+
+Exporting the serializer in this way gives us enough flexibility to imple- 
+ment a serialized exchange program. We simply serialize the original 
+exchange procedure with the serializers for both accounts: 
+
+(define (serialized-exchange accountl account2) 
+(let ((serializerl (accountl 'serializer)) 
+(serialized (account2 'serializer))) 
+((serializerl (serialized exchange)) 
+accountl 
+account2))) 
+
+Exercise 3.43: Suppose that the balances in three accounts 
+start out as $10, $20, and $30, and that multiple processes 
+run, exchanging the balances in the accounts. Argue that if 
+the processes are run sequentially, after any number of con- 
+current exchanges, the account balances should be $10, $20, 
+and $30 in some order. Draw a timing diagram like the one 
+in Figure 3.29 to show how this condition can be violated 
+if the exchanges are implemented using the first version of 
+the account-exchange program in this section. On the other 
+hand, argue that even with this exchange program, the sum 
+of the balances in the accounts will be preserved. Draw a 
+timing diagram to show how even this condition would be 
+violated if we did not serialize the transactions on individ- 
+ual accounts. 
+
+Exercise 3.44: Consider the problem of transferring an amount 
+from one account to another. Ben Bitdiddle claims that this 
+
+
+
+419 
+
+
+
+can be accomplished with the following procedure, even if 
+there are multiple people concurrently transferring money 
+among multiple accounts, using any account mechanism 
+that serializes deposit and withdrawal transactions, for ex- 
+ample, the version of make-account in the text above. 
+
+(define (transfer f rom-account to-account amount) 
+((f rom-account 'withdraw) amount) 
+((to-account 'deposit) amount)) 
+
+Louis Reasoner claims that there is a problem here, and 
+that we need to use a more sophisticated method, such as 
+the one required for dealing with the exchange problem. Is 
+Louis right? If not, what is the essential difference between 
+the transfer problem and the exchange problem? (You should 
+assume that the balance in f rom-account is at least amount.) 
+
+Exercise 3.45: Louis Reasoner thinks our bank-account sys- 
+tem is unnecessarily complex and error-prone now that de- 
+posits and withdrawals aren't automatically serialized. He 
+suggests that make-account-and-serializer should have 
+exported the serializer (for use by such procedures as se rial i zed- 
+exchange) in addition to (rather than instead of) using it 
+to serialize accounts and deposits as make-account did. He 
+proposes to redefine accounts as follows: 
+
+(define (make-account-and-serializer balance) 
+(define (withdraw amount) 
+(if (>= balance amount) 
+
+(begin (set! balance (- balance amount)) balance) 
+"Insufficient funds")) 
+(define (deposit amount) 
+
+(set! balance (+ balance amount)) balance) 
+
+
+
+420 
+
+
+
+(let ((balance-serializer (make-serializer))) 
+(define (dispatch m) 
+
+(cond ((eq? m 'withdraw) (balance-serializer withdraw)) 
+((eq? m 'deposit) (balance-serializer deposit)) 
+((eq? m 'balance) balance) 
+((eq? m 'serializer) balance-serializer) 
+(else (error "Unknown request: MAKE-ACCOUNT" m)))) 
+dispatch)) 
+
+Then deposits are handled as with the original make-account: 
+
+(define (deposit account amount) 
+((account 'deposit) amount)) 
+
+Explain what is wrong with Louis's reasoning. In particu- 
+lar, consider what happens when serialized-exchange is 
+called. 
+
+Implementing serial izers 
+
+We implement serializers in terms of a more primitive synchroniza- 
+tion mechanism called a mutex. A mutex is an object that supports two 
+operations— the mutex can be acquired, and the mutex can be released. 
+Once a mutex has been acquired, no other acquire operations on that 
+mutex may proceed until the mutex is released. 44 In our implementa- 
+
+44 The term "mutex" is an abbreviation for mutual exclusion. The general problem of 
+arranging a mechanism that permits concurrent processes to safely share resources is 
+called the mutual exclusion problem. Our mutex is a simple variant of the semaphore 
+mechanism (see Exercise 3.47), which was introduced in the "THE" Multiprogramming 
+System developed at the Technological University of Eindhoven and named for the 
+university's initials in Dutch (Dijkstra 1968a). The acquire and release operations were 
+originally called P and V, from the Dutch words passeren (to pass) and vrijgeven (to 
+release), in reference to the semaphores used on railroad systems. Dijkstra's classic 
+exposition (Dijkstra 1968b) was one of the first to clearly present the issues of concur- 
+
+
+
+421 
+
+
+
+tion, each serializer has an associated mutex. Given a procedure p, the 
+serializer returns a procedure that acquires the mutex, runs p, and then 
+releases the mutex. This ensures that only one of the procedures pro- 
+duced by the serializer can be running at once, which is precisely the 
+serialization property that we need to guarantee. 
+
+(define (make-serializer) 
+(let ((mutex (make-mutex))) 
+(lambda (p) 
+
+(define (serialized-p . args) 
+(mutex 'acquire) 
+(let ((val (apply p args))) 
+(mutex 'release) 
+val)) 
+serialized-p))) 
+
+The mutex is a mutable object (here we'll use a one-element list, which 
+we'll refer to as a cell) that can hold the value true or false. When the 
+value is false, the mutex is available to be acquired. When the value is 
+true, the mutex is unavailable, and any process that attempts to acquire 
+the mutex must wait. 
+
+Our mutex constructor make-mutex begins by initializing the cell 
+contents to false. To acquire the mutex, we test the cell. If the mutex 
+is available, we set the cell contents to true and proceed. Otherwise, 
+we wait in a loop, attempting to acquire over and over again, until we 
+find that the mutex is available. 45 To release the mutex, we set the cell 
+
+rency control, and showed how to use semaphores to handle a variety of concurrency 
+problems. 
+
+45 In most time-shared operating systems, processes that are blocked by a mutex do 
+not waste time "busy-waiting" as above. Instead, the system schedules another process 
+to run while the first is waiting, and the blocked process is awakened when the mutex 
+becomes available. 
+
+
+
+422 
+
+
+
+contents to false. 
+
+(define (make-mutex) 
+
+(let ((cell (list false))) 
+(define (the-mutex m) 
+(cond ((eq? m 'acquire) 
+
+(if (test-and-set ! cell) 
+
+(the-mutex 'acquire))) ; retry 
+((eq? m 'release) (clear! cell)))) 
+the-mutex) ) 
+
+(define (clear! cell) (set-car! cell false)) 
+
+Test-and-set! tests the cell and returns the result of the test. In addi- 
+tion, if the test was false, test-and-set! sets the cell contents to true 
+before returning false. We can express this behavior as the following 
+procedure: 
+
+(define (test-and-set! cell) 
+
+(if (car cell) true (begin (set-car! cell true) false))) 
+
+However, this implementation of test-and-set! does not suffice as 
+it stands. There is a crucial subtlety here, which is the essential place 
+where concurrency control enters the system: The test-and-set! op- 
+eration must be performed atomically. That is, we must guarantee that, 
+once a process has tested the cell and found it to be false, the cell con- 
+tents will actually be set to true before any other process can test the 
+cell. If we do not make this guarantee, then the mutex can fail in a way 
+similar to the bank-account failure in Figure 3.29. (See Exercise 3.46.) 
+
+The actual implementation of test-and-set! depends on the de- 
+tails of how our system runs concurrent processes. For example, we 
+might be executing concurrent processes on a sequential processor us- 
+ing a time-slicing mechanism that cycles through the processes, permit- 
+ting each process to run for a short time before interrupting it and mov- 
+
+
+
+423 
+
+
+
+ing on to the next process. In that case, test-and-set ! can work by dis- 
+abling time slicing during the testing and setting. 46 Alternatively, mul- 
+tiprocessing computers provide instructions that support atomic oper- 
+ations directly in hardware. 47 
+
+Exercise 3.46: Suppose that we implement test-and-set ! 
+using an ordinary procedure as shown in the text, without 
+attempting to make the operation atomic. Draw a timing 
+
+46 In mit Scheme for a single processor, which uses a time-slicing model, test-and- 
+set ! can be implemented as follows: 
+
+(define (test-and-set! cell) 
+(without-interrupts 
+(lambda () 
+
+(if (car cell) 
+true 
+
+(begin (set-car! cell true) 
+false))))) 
+
+Without-interrupts disables time-slicing interrupts while its procedure argument is 
+being executed. 
+
+47 There are many variants of such instructions— including test-and-set, test-and- 
+clear, swap, compare-and-exchange, load-reserve, and store-conditional— whose design 
+must be carefully matched to the machine's processor-memory interface. One issue that 
+arises here is to determine what happens if two processes attempt to acquire the same 
+resource at exactly the same time by using such an instruction. This requires some 
+mechanism for making a decision about which process gets control. Such a mechanism 
+is called an arbiter. Arbiters usually boil down to some sort of hardware device. Un- 
+fortunately, it is possible to prove that one cannot physically construct a fair arbiter 
+that works 100% of the time unless one allows the arbiter an arbitrarily long time to 
+make its decision. The fundamental phenomenon here was originally observed by the 
+fourteenth-century French philosopher Jean Buridan in his commentary on Aristotle's 
+De caelo. Buridan argued that a perfectly rational dog placed between two equally at- 
+tractive sources of food will starve to death, because it is incapable of deciding which 
+to go to first. 
+
+
+
+424 
+
+
+
+diagram like the one in Figure 3.29 to demonstrate how the 
+mutex implementation can fail by allowing two processes 
+to acquire the mutex at the same time. 
+
+Exercise 3.47: A semaphore (of size n) is a generalization of 
+a mutex. Like a mutex, a semaphore supports acquire and 
+release operations, but it is more general in that up to n 
+processes can acquire it concurrently. Additional processes 
+that attempt to acquire the semaphore must wait for release 
+operations. Give implementations of semaphores 
+
+a. in terms of mutexes 
+
+b. in terms of atomic test-and-set ! operations. 
+Deadlock 
+
+Now that we have seen how to implement serializers, we can see that 
+account exchanging still has a problem, even with the serialized- 
+exchange procedure above. Imagine that Peter attempts to exchange 
+al with al while Paul concurrently attempts to exchange al with al. 
+Suppose that Peter's process reaches the point where it has entered a 
+serialized procedure protecting al and, just after that, Paul's process en- 
+ters a serialized procedure protecting al. Now Peter cannot proceed (to 
+enter a serialized procedure protecting a2) until Paul exits the serialized 
+procedure protecting al. Similarly, Paul cannot proceed until Peter exits 
+the serialized procedure protecting al. Each process is stalled forever, 
+waiting for the other. This situation is called a deadlock. Deadlock is al- 
+ways a danger in systems that provide concurrent access to multiple 
+shared resources. 
+
+One way to avoid the deadlock in this situation is to give each ac- 
+count a unique identification number and rewrite serialized-exchange 
+
+
+
+425 
+
+
+
+so that a process will always attempt to enter a procedure protecting the 
+lowest-numbered account first. Although this method works well for 
+the exchange problem, there are other situations that require more so- 
+phisticated deadlock-avoidance techniques, or where deadlock cannot 
+be avoided at all. (See Exercise 3.48 and Exercise 3.49.) 48 
+
+Exercise 3.48: Explain in detail why the deadlock-avoidance 
+method described above, (i.e., the accounts are numbered, 
+and each process attempts to acquire the smaller-numbered 
+account first) avoids deadlock in the exchange problem. Re- 
+write serialized-exchange to incorporate this idea. (You 
+will also need to modify make-account so that each account 
+is created with a number, which can be accessed by sending 
+an appropriate message.) 
+
+Exercise 3.49: Give a scenario where the deadlock- avoid- 
+ance mechanism described above does not work. (Hint: In 
+the exchange problem, each process knows in advance which 
+accounts it will need to get access to. Consider a situation 
+where a process must get access to some shared resources 
+before it can know which additional shared resources it will 
+require.) 
+
+
+
+4 The general technique for avoiding deadlock by numbering the shared resources 
+and acquiring them in order is due to Havender (1968). Situations where deadlock can- 
+not be avoided require deadlock-recovery methods, which entail having processes "back 
+out" of the deadlocked state and try again. Deadlock-recovery mechanisms are widely 
+used in database management systems, a topic that is treated in detail in Gray and 
+Reuter 1993. 
+
+
+
+426 
+
+
+
+Concurrency, time, and communication 
+
+We've seen how programming concurrent systems requires controlling 
+the ordering of events when different processes access shared state, and 
+we've seen how to achieve this control through judicious use of serial- 
+izes. But the problems of concurrency lie deeper than this, because, 
+from a fundamental point of view, it's not always clear what is meant 
+by "shared state." 
+
+Mechanisms such as test-and-set ! require processes to examine a 
+global shared flag at arbitrary times. This is problematic and inefficient 
+to implement in modern high-speed processors, where due to optimiza- 
+tion techniques such as pipelining and cached memory, the contents 
+of memory may not be in a consistent state at every instant. In con- 
+temporary multiprocessing systems, therefore, the serializer paradigm 
+is being supplanted by new approaches to concurrency control. 49 
+
+The problematic aspects of shared state also arise in large, distributed 
+systems. For instance, imagine a distributed banking system where indi- 
+vidual branch banks maintain local values for bank balances and period- 
+ically compare these with values maintained by other branches. In such 
+a system the value of "the account balance" would be undetermined, 
+except right after synchronization. If Peter deposits money in an ac- 
+count he holds jointly with Paul, when should we say that the account 
+balance has changed— when the balance in the local branch changes, or 
+not until after the synchronization? And if Paul accesses the account 
+
+49 One such alternative to serialization is called barrier synchronization. The program- 
+mer permits concurrent processes to execute as they please, but establishes certain 
+synchronization points ("barriers") through which no process can proceed until all the 
+processes have reached the barrier. Modern processors provide machine instructions 
+that permit programmers to establish synchronization points at places where consis- 
+tency is required. The POWERPC, for example, includes for this purpose two instructions 
+called sync and eieio (Enforced In-order Execution of Input/Output). 
+
+
+
+427 
+
+
+
+from a different branch, what are the reasonable constraints to place on 
+the banking system such that the behavior is "correct"? The only thing 
+that might matter for correctness is the behavior observed by Peter and 
+Paul individually and the "state" of the account immediately after syn- 
+chronization. Questions about the "real" account balance or the order of 
+events between synchronizations may be irrelevant or meaningless. 50 
+
+The basic phenomenon here is that synchronizing different pro- 
+cesses, establishing shared state, or imposing an order on events re- 
+quires communication among the processes. In essence, any notion of 
+time in concurrency control must be intimately tied to communica- 
+tion. 51 It is intriguing that a similar connection between time and com- 
+munication also arises in the Theory of Relativity, where the speed of 
+light (the fastest signal that can be used to synchronize events) is a 
+fundamental constant relating time and space. The complexities we en- 
+counter in dealing with time and state in our computational models may 
+in fact mirror a fundamental complexity of the physical universe. 
+
+3.5 Streams 
+
+We've gained a good understanding of assignment as a tool in modeling, 
+as well as an appreciation of the complex problems that assignment 
+raises. It is time to ask whether we could have gone about things in a 
+different way, so as to avoid some of these problems. In this section, 
+
+50 This may seem like a strange point of view, but there are systems that work this 
+way. International charges to credit-card accounts, for example, are normally cleared 
+on a per-country basis, and the charges made in different countries are periodically 
+reconciled. Thus the account balance may be different in different countries. 
+
+51 For distributed systems, this perspective was pursued by Lamport (1978), who 
+showed how to use communication to establish "global clocks" that can be used to 
+establish orderings on events in distributed systems. 
+
+
+
+428 
+
+
+
+we explore an alternative approach to modeling state, based on data 
+structures called streams. As we shall see, streams can mitigate some of 
+the complexity of modeling state. 
+
+Let's step back and review where this complexity comes from. In 
+an attempt to model real-world phenomena, we made some apparently 
+reasonable decisions: We modeled real-world objects with local state by 
+computational objects with local variables. We identified time variation 
+in the real world with time variation in the computer. We implemented 
+the time variation of the states of the model objects in the computer 
+with assignments to the local variables of the model objects. 
+
+Is there another approach? Can we avoid identifying time in the 
+computer with time in the modeled world? Must we make the model 
+change with time in order to model phenomena in a changing world? 
+Think about the issue in terms of mathematical functions. We can de- 
+scribe the time-varying behavior of a quantity x as a function of time 
+x(t). If we concentrate on x instant by instant, we think of it as a chang- 
+ing quantity. Yet if we concentrate on the entire time history of values, 
+we do not emphasize change— the function itself does not change. 52 
+
+If time is measured in discrete steps, then we can model a time func- 
+tion as a (possibly infinite) sequence. In this section, we will see how to 
+model change in terms of sequences that represent the time histories 
+of the systems being modeled. To accomplish this, we introduce new 
+data structures called streams. From an abstract point of view, a stream 
+is simply a sequence. However, we will find that the straightforward 
+implementation of streams as lists (as in Section 2.2.1) doesn't fully re- 
+
+52 Physicists sometimes adopt this view by introducing the "world lines" of particles 
+as a device for reasoning about motion. We've also already mentioned (Section 2.2.3) 
+that this is the natural way to think about signal-processing systems. We will explore 
+applications of streams to signal processing in Section 3.5.3. 
+
+
+
+429 
+
+
+
+veal the power of stream processing. As an alternative, we introduce 
+the technique of delayed evaluation, which enables us to represent very 
+large (even infinite) sequences as streams. 
+
+Stream processing lets us model systems that have state without 
+ever using assignment or mutable data. This has important implications, 
+both theoretical and practical, because we can build models that avoid 
+the drawbacks inherent in introducing assignment. On the other hand, 
+the stream framework raises difficulties of its own, and the question 
+of which modeling technique leads to more modular and more easily 
+maintained systems remains open. 
+
+3.5.1 Streams Are Delayed Lists 
+
+As we saw in Section 2.2.3, sequences can serve as standard interfaces 
+for combining program modules. We formulated powerful abstractions 
+for manipulating sequences, such as map, filter, and accumulate, that 
+capture a wide variety of operations in a manner that is both succinct 
+and elegant. 
+
+Unfortunately, if we represent sequences as lists, this elegance is 
+bought at the price of severe inefficiency with respect to both the time 
+and space required by our computations. When we represent manip- 
+ulations on sequences as transformations of lists, our programs must 
+construct and copy data structures (which may be huge) at every step 
+of a process. 
+
+To see why this is true, let us compare two programs for computing 
+the sum of all the prime numbers in an interval. The first program is 
+written in standard iterative style: 53 
+
+53 Assume that we have a predicate prime? (e.g., as in Section 1.2.6) that tests for 
+primality. 
+
+
+
+430 
+
+
+
+(define (sum-primes a b) 
+(define (iter count accum) 
+(cond ((> count b) accum) 
+((prime? count) 
+
+(iter (+ count 1) (+ count accum))) 
+(else (iter (+ count 1) accum)))) 
+(iter a 0)) 
+
+The second program performs the same computation using the sequence 
+operations of Section 2.2.3: 
+
+(define (sum-primes a b) 
+(accumulate + 
+
+0 
+
+(filter prime? 
+
+(enumerate-interval a b)))) 
+
+In carrying out the computation, the first program needs to store only 
+the sum being accumulated. In contrast, the filter in the second pro- 
+gram cannot do any testing until enumerate-interval has constructed 
+a complete list of the numbers in the interval. The filter generates an- 
+other list, which in turn is passed to accumulate before being collapsed 
+to form a sum. Such large intermediate storage is not needed by the first 
+program, which we can think of as enumerating the interval incremen- 
+tally, adding each prime to the sum as it is generated. 
+
+The inefficiency in using lists becomes painfully apparent if we use 
+the sequence paradigm to compute the second prime in the interval 
+from 10,000 to 1,000,000 by evaluating the expression 
+
+(car (cdr (filter prime? 
+
+(enumerate-interval 10000 1000000)))) 
+
+This expression does find the second prime, but the computational over- 
+head is outrageous. We construct a list of almost a million integers, filter 
+
+
+
+431 
+
+
+
+this list by testing each element for primality, and then ignore almost 
+all of the result. In a more traditional programming style, we would in- 
+terleave the enumeration and the filtering, and stop when we reached 
+the second prime. 
+
+Streams are a clever idea that allows one to use sequence manipu- 
+lations without incurring the costs of manipulating sequences as lists. 
+With streams we can achieve the best of both worlds: We can formu- 
+late programs elegantly as sequence manipulations, while attaining the 
+efficiency of incremental computation. The basic idea is to arrange to 
+construct a stream only partially, and to pass the partial construction 
+to the program that consumes the stream. If the consumer attempts to 
+access a part of the stream that has not yet been constructed, the stream 
+will automatically construct just enough more of itself to produce the 
+required part, thus preserving the illusion that the entire stream exists. 
+In other words, although we will write programs as if we were process- 
+ing complete sequences, we design our stream implementation to au- 
+tomatically and transparently interleave the construction of the stream 
+with its use. 
+
+On the surface, streams are just lists with different names for the 
+procedures that manipulate them. There is a constructor, cons-stream, 
+and two selectors, stream-car and stream-cdr, which satisfy the con- 
+straints 
+
+(stream-car (cons-stream x y)) = x 
+(stream-cdr (cons-stream x y)) = y 
+
+There is a distinguishable object, the-empty-stream, which cannot be 
+the result of any cons-stream operation, and which can be identified 
+with the predicate stream-null?. 54 Thus we can make and use streams, 
+
+54 In the mit implementation, the-empty-stream is the same as the empty list ' (), 
+and stream-null? is the same as null?. 
+
+
+
+432 
+
+
+
+in just the same way as we can make and use lists, to represent aggregate 
+data arranged in a sequence. In particular, we can build stream analogs 
+of the list operations from Chapter 2, such as list-ref, map, and for- 
+each: 55 
+
+(define (stream-ref s n) 
+(if (= n 0) 
+
+(stream-car s) 
+
+(stream-ref (stream-cdr s) (- n 1)))) 
+(define (stream-map proc s) 
+(if (stream-null? s) 
+the-empty-stream 
+
+(cons-stream (proc (stream-car s)) 
+
+(stream-map proc (stream-cdr s))))) 
+(define (stream-for-each proc s) 
+(if (stream-null? s) 
+'done 
+
+(begin (proc (stream-car s)) 
+
+(stream-for-each proc (stream-cdr s))))) 
+
+Stream-for-each is useful for viewing streams: 
+
+(define (display-stream s) 
+
+(stream-for-each display-line s)) 
+(define (display-line x) (newline) (display x)) 
+
+To make the stream implementation automatically and transparently 
+interleave the construction of a stream with its use, we will arrange for 
+
+55 This should bother you. The fact that we are defining such similar procedures for 
+streams and lists indicates that we are missing some underlying abstraction. Unfor- 
+tunately, in order to exploit this abstraction, we will need to exert finer control over 
+the process of evaluation than we can at present. We will discuss this point further at 
+the end of Section 3.5.4. In Section 4.2, we'll develop a framework that unifies lists and 
+streams. 
+
+
+
+433 
+
+
+
+the cdr of a stream to be evaluated when it is accessed by the stream- 
+cdr procedure rather than when the stream is constructed by cons- 
+stream. This implementation choice is reminiscent of our discussion of 
+rational numbers in Section 2.1.2, where we saw that we can choose 
+to implement rational numbers so that the reduction of numerator and 
+denominator to lowest terms is performed either at construction time 
+or at selection time. The two rational-number implementations produce 
+the same data abstraction, but the choice has an effect on efficiency. 
+There is a similar relationship between streams and ordinary lists. As a 
+data abstraction, streams are the same as lists. The difference is the time 
+at which the elements are evaluated. With ordinary lists, both the ca r 
+and the cdr are evaluated at construction time. With streams, the cdr 
+is evaluated at selection time. 
+
+Our implementation of streams will be based on a special form called 
+delay. Evaluating (delay (exp)) does not evaluate the expression (exp), 
+but rather returns a so-called delayed object, which we can think of as 
+a "promise" to evaluate (exp) at some future time. As a companion to 
+delay, there is a procedure called force that takes a delayed object as 
+argument and performs the evaluation— in effect, forcing the delay to 
+fulfill its promise. We will see below how delay and force can be im- 
+plemented, but first let us use these to construct streams. 
+
+Cons-stream is a special form defined so that 
+
+(cons-stream (a) (fa)) 
+
+is equivalent to 
+
+(cons (a) (delay (fa))) 
+
+What this means is that we will construct streams using pairs. How- 
+ever, rather than placing the value of the rest of the stream into the cd r 
+of the pair we will put there a promise to compute the rest if it is ever 
+
+
+
+434 
+
+
+
+requested. Stream-car and stream-cdr can now be defined as proce- 
+dures: 
+
+(define (stream-car stream) (car stream)) 
+(define (stream-cdr stream) (force (cdr stream))) 
+
+Stream-car selects the car of the pair; stream-cdr selects the cdr of 
+the pair and evaluates the delayed expression found there to obtain the 
+rest of the stream. 56 
+
+The stream implementation in action 
+
+To see how this implementation behaves, let us analyze the "outra- 
+geous" prime computation we saw above, reformulated in terms of streams: 
+
+(stream-car 
+(stream-cdr 
+(stream-filter prime? 
+
+(stream-enumerate-interval 
+
+10000 1000000)))) 
+
+We will see that it does indeed work efficiently. 
+
+We begin by calling stream-enumerate-interval with the argu- 
+ments 10,000 and 1,000,000. Stream-enumerate-interval is the stream 
+analog of enumerate-interval (Section 2.2.3): 
+
+(define (stream-enumerate-interval low high) 
+(if (> low high) 
+
+t he-empty-stream 
+(cons-stream 
+
+56 Although stream-car and stream-cdr can be denned as procedures, cons-stream 
+must be a special form. If cons-stream were a procedure, then, according to our model 
+of evaluation, evaluating (cons-stream (a) (b)) would automatically cause (b) to be 
+evaluated, which is precisely what we do not want to happen. For the same reason, 
+delay must be a special form, though force can be an ordinary procedure. 
+
+
+
+435 
+
+
+
+low 
+
+(stream-enumerate-interval (+ low 1) high)))) 
+
+and thus the result returned by stream-enumerate-interval, formed 
+by the cons-stream, is 57 
+
+(cons 10000 
+
+(delay (stream-enumerate-interval 10001 1000000))) 
+
+That is, stream-enumerate-interval returns a stream represented as a 
+pair whose car is 10,000 and whose cdr is a promise to enumerate more 
+of the interval if so requested. This stream is now filtered for primes, 
+using the stream analog of the filter procedure (Section 2.2.3): 
+
+(define (stream-filter pred stream) 
+
+(cond ((stream-null? stream) the-empty-stream) 
+((pred (stream-car stream)) 
+(cons-stream (stream-car stream) 
+(stream-filter 
+pred 
+
+(stream-cdr stream)))) 
+(else (stream-filter pred (stream-cdr stream))))) 
+
+Stream-filter tests the stream-car of the stream (the car of the pair, 
+which is 10,000). Since this is not prime, stream-filter examines the 
+stream-cdr of its input stream. The call to stream-cdr forces evaluation 
+of the delayed stream-enumerate-interval, which now returns 
+
+(cons 10001 
+
+(delay (stream-enumerate-interval 10002 1000000))) 
+
+57 The numbers shown here do not really appear in the delayed expression. What 
+actually appears is the original expression, in an environment in which the variables 
+are bound to the appropriate numbers. For example, (+ low 1 ) with low bound to 
+10,000 actually appears where 1 0001 is shown. 
+
+
+
+436 
+
+
+
+Stream-filter now looks at the stream-car of this stream, 10,001, 
+sees that this is not prime either, forces another stream-cdr, and so on, 
+until stream-enumerate-interval yields the prime 10,007, whereupon 
+stream-filter, according to its definition, returns 
+
+(cons-stream (stream-car stream) 
+
+(stream-filter pred (stream-cdr stream))) 
+
+which in this case is 
+
+(cons 10007 
+
+(delay (stream-filter 
+prime? 
+(cons 10008 
+
+(delay (stream-enumerate-interval 
+10009 
+
+1000000)))))) 
+
+This result is now passed to stream-cdr in our original expression. This 
+forces the delayed stream-filter, which in turn keeps forcing the de- 
+layed stream-enumerate-interval until it finds the next prime, which 
+is 10,009. Finally, the result passed to stream-car in our original ex- 
+pression is 
+
+(cons 10009 
+
+(delay (stream-filter 
+prime? 
+(cons 10010 
+
+(delay (stream-enumerate-interval 
+1001 1 
+
+1000000)))))) 
+
+Stream-car returns 10,009, and the computation is complete. Only as 
+many integers were tested for primality as were necessary to find the 
+
+
+
+437 
+
+
+
+second prime, and the interval was enumerated only as far as was nec- 
+essary to feed the prime filter. 
+
+In general, we can think of delayed evaluation as "demand-driven" 
+programming, whereby each stage in the stream process is activated 
+only enough to satisfy the next stage. What we have done is to decouple 
+the actual order of events in the computation from the apparent struc- 
+ture of our procedures. We write procedures as if the streams existed "all 
+at once" when, in reality, the computation is performed incrementally, 
+as in traditional programming styles. 
+
+Implementing delay and force 
+
+Although delay and force may seem like mysterious operations, their 
+implementation is really quite straightforward. Delay must package an 
+expression so that it can be evaluated later on demand, and we can ac- 
+complish this simply by treating the expression as the body of a proce- 
+dure. Delay can be a special form such that 
+
+(delay (exp)) 
+
+is syntactic sugar for 
+
+(lambda () {exp}) 
+
+Force simply calls the procedure (of no arguments) produced by delay, 
+so we can implement force as a procedure: 
+
+(define (force delayed-object) (delayed-object)) 
+
+This implementation suffices for delay and force to work as advertised, 
+but there is an important optimization that we can include. In many ap- 
+plications, we end up forcing the same delayed object many times. This 
+can lead to serious inefficiency in recursive programs involving streams. 
+(See Exercise 3.57.) The solution is to build delayed objects so that the 
+
+
+
+438 
+
+
+
+first time they are forced, they store the value that is computed. Subse- 
+quent forcings will simply return the stored value without repeating the 
+computation. In other words, we implement delay as a special-purpose 
+memoized procedure similar to the one described in Exercise 3.27. One 
+way to accomplish this is to use the following procedure, which takes as 
+argument a procedure (of no arguments) and returns a memoized ver- 
+sion of the procedure. The first time the memoized procedure is run, it 
+saves the computed result. On subsequent evaluations, it simply returns 
+the result. 
+
+(define (memo-proc proc) 
+
+(let ((already-run? false) (result false)) 
+(lambda () 
+
+(if (not already-run?) 
+
+(begin (set! result (proc)) 
+
+(set! already-run? true) 
+result) 
+result)))) 
+
+Delay is then defined so that (delay (exp)) is equivalent to 
+(memo-proc (lambda () (exp))) 
+and force is as defined previously. 58 
+
+
+
+There are many possible implementations of streams other than the one described 
+in this section. Delayed evaluation, which is the key to making streams practical, was 
+inherent in Algol 60's call-by-name parameter-passing method. The use of this mech- 
+anism to implement streams was first described by Landin (1965). Delayed evaluation 
+for streams was introduced into Lisp by Friedman and Wise (1976). In their implemen- 
+tation, cons always delays evaluating its arguments, so that lists automatically behave 
+as streams. The memoizing optimization is also known as call-by-need. The Algol com- 
+munity would refer to our original delayed objects as call-by-name thunks and to the 
+optimized versions as call-by-need thunks. 
+
+
+
+439 
+
+
+
+Exercise 3.50: Complete the following definition, which 
+generalizes stream-map to allow procedures that take mul- 
+tiple arguments, analogous to map in Section 2.2.1, Footnote 
+12. 
+
+(define (stream-map proc . argstreams) 
+(if ((??) (car argstreams)) 
+t he-empty-stream 
+
+((??) 
+
+(apply proc (map (??) argstreams)) 
+(apply stream-map 
+
+(cons proc (map (??) argstreams)))))) 
+
+
+
+Exercise 3.5T: In order to take a closer look at delayed eval- 
+uation, we will use the following procedure, which simply 
+returns its argument after printing it: 
+
+(define (show x) 
+(display-line x) 
+
+x) 
+
+What does the interpreter print in response to evaluating 
+each expression in the following sequence? 59 
+
+(define x 
+
+59 Exercises such as Exercise 3.51 and Exercise 3.52 are valuable for testing our un- 
+derstanding of how delay works. On the other hand, intermixing delayed evaluation 
+with printing— and, even worse, with assignment— is extremely confusing, and instruc- 
+tors of courses on computer languages have traditionally tormented their students with 
+examination questions such as the ones in this section. Needless to say, writing pro- 
+grams that depend on such subtleties is odious programming style. Part of the power 
+of stream processing is that it lets us ignore the order in which events actually happen 
+in our programs. Unfortunately, this is precisely what we cannot afford to do in the 
+presence of assignment, which forces us to be concerned with time and change. 
+
+
+
+440 
+
+
+
+(stream-map show 
+
+(stream-enumerate-interval 0 10))) 
+(stream-ref x 5) 
+(stream-ref x 7) 
+
+Exercise 3.52: Consider the sequence of expressions 
+(define sum 0) 
+
+(define (accum x) (set! sum (+ x sum)) sum) 
+(define seq 
+
+(stream-map accum 
+
+(stream-enumerate-interval 1 20))) 
+(define y (stream-filter even? seq)) 
+(define z 
+
+(stream-filter (lambda (x) (= (remainder x 5) 0)) 
+seq)) 
+
+(stream-ref y 7) 
+(display-stream z) 
+
+What is the value of sum after each of the above expressions 
+is evaluated? What is the printed response to evaluating 
+the stream-ref and display-stream expressions? Would 
+these responses differ if we had implemented (delay (exp)) 
+simply as (lambda () (exp)) without using the optimiza- 
+tion provided by memo-proc? Explain 
+
+3.5.2 Infinite Streams 
+
+We have seen how to support the illusion of manipulating streams as 
+complete entities even though, in actuality, we compute only as much 
+of the stream as we need to access. We can exploit this technique to rep- 
+resent sequences efficiently as streams, even if the sequences are very 
+
+
+
+441 
+
+
+
+long. What is more striking, we can use streams to represent sequences 
+that are infinitely long. For instance, consider the following definition 
+of the stream of positive integers: 
+
+(define (integers-starting-f rom n) 
+
+(cons-stream n (integers-starting-f rom (+ n 1)))) 
+(define integers (integers-starting-f rom 1)) 
+
+This makes sense because integers will be a pair whose car is 1 and 
+whose cdr is a promise to produce the integers beginning with 2. This 
+is an infinitely long stream, but in any given time we can examine only 
+a finite portion of it. Thus, our programs will never know that the entire 
+infinite stream is not there. 
+
+Using integers we can define other infinite streams, such as the 
+stream of integers that are not divisible by 7: 
+
+(define (divisible? x y) (= (remainder x y) 0)) 
+(define no-sevens 
+
+(stream-filter (lambda (x) (not (divisible? x 7))) 
+integers)) 
+
+Then we can find integers not divisible by 7 simply by accessing ele- 
+ments of this stream: 
+
+(stream-ref no-sevens 100) 
+777 
+
+In analogy with integers, we can define the infinite stream of Fibonacci 
+numbers: 
+
+(define (fibgen a b) (cons-stream a (fibgen b (+ a b)))) 
+(define fibs (fibgen 0 1)) 
+
+Fibs is a pair whose car is 0 and whose cdr is a promise to evaluate 
+(fibgen 1 1 ). When we evaluate this delayed (fibgen 1 1), it will 
+
+
+
+442 
+
+
+
+produce a pair whose car is 1 and whose cdr is a promise to evaluate 
+(fibgen 1 2), and so on. 
+
+For a look at a more exciting infinite stream, we can generalize the 
+no-sevens example to construct the infinite stream of prime numbers, 
+using a method known as the sieve of Eratosthenes. 60 We start with the 
+integers beginning with 2, which is the first prime. To get the rest of 
+the primes, we start by filtering the multiples of 2 from the rest of the 
+integers. This leaves a stream beginning with 3, which is the next prime. 
+Now we filter the multiples of 3 from the rest of this stream. This leaves 
+a stream beginning with 5, which is the next prime, and so on. In other 
+words, we construct the primes by a sieving process, described as fol- 
+lows: To sieve a stream S, form a stream whose first element is the first 
+element of S and the rest of which is obtained by filtering all multiples 
+of the first element of S out of the rest of S and sieving the result. This 
+process is readily described in terms of stream operations: 
+
+(define (sieve stream) 
+(cons-stream 
+(stream-car stream) 
+(sieve (stream-filter 
+(lambda (x) 
+
+(not (divisible? x (stream-car stream)))) 
+(stream-cdr stream))))) 
+(define primes (sieve (integers-starting-f rom 2))) 
+
+
+
+Eratosthenes, a third-century B.C. Alexandrian Greek philosopher, is famous for 
+giving the first accurate estimate of the circumference of the Earth, which he computed 
+by observing shadows cast at noon on the day of the summer solstice. Eratosthenes's 
+sieve method, although ancient, has formed the basis for special-purpose hardware 
+"sieves" that, until recently, were the most powerful tools in existence for locating large 
+primes. Since the 70s, however, these methods have been superseded by outgrowths of 
+the probabilistic techniques discussed in Section 1.2.6. 
+
+
+
+443 
+
+
+
+
+- — — 
+
+filter: 
+not 
+
+divisible? 
+
+
+
+
+Figure 3.3T: The prime sieve viewed as a signal-processing 
+system. 
+
+
+
+Now to find a particular prime we need only ask for it: 
+
+(stream-ref primes 50) 
+
+233 
+
+It is interesting to contemplate the signal-processing system set up by 
+sieve, shown in the "Henderson diagram" in Figure 3. 31. 61 The input 
+stream feeds into an "unconser" that separates the first element of the 
+stream from the rest of the stream. The first element is used to construct 
+a divisibility filter, through which the rest is passed, and the output of 
+the filter is fed to another sieve box. Then the original first element is 
+consed onto the output of the internal sieve to form the output stream. 
+Thus, not only is the stream infinite, but the signal processor is also 
+infinite, because the sieve contains a sieve within it. 
+
+
+
+We have named these figures after Peter Henderson, who was the first person to 
+show us diagrams of this sort as a way of thinking about stream processing. Each solid 
+line represents a stream of values being transmitted. The dashed line from the car to 
+the cons and the filter indicates that this is a single value rather than a stream. 
+
+
+
+444 
+
+
+
+Defining streams implicitly 
+
+The integers and fibs streams above were defined by specifying "gen- 
+erating" procedures that explicitly compute the stream elements one by 
+one. An alternative way to specify streams is to take advantage of de- 
+layed evaluation to define streams implicitly. For example, the following 
+expression defines the stream ones to be an infinite stream of ones: 
+
+(define ones (cons-stream 1 ones)) 
+
+This works much like the definition of a recursive procedure: ones is 
+a pair whose car is 1 and whose cdr is a promise to evaluate ones. 
+Evaluating the cdr gives us again a 1 and a promise to evaluate ones, 
+and so on. 
+
+We can do more interesting things by manipulating streams with 
+operations such as add-streams, which produces the elementwise sum 
+of two given streams: 62 
+
+(define (add-streams s1 s2) (stream-map + s1 s2)) 
+Now we can define the integers as follows: 
+
+(define integers 
+
+(cons-stream 1 (add-streams ones integers))) 
+
+This defines integers to be a stream whose first element is 1 and the rest 
+of which is the sum of ones and integers. Thus, the second element of 
+integers is 1 plus the first element of integers, or 2; the third element 
+of integers is 1 plus the second element of integers, or 3; and so on. 
+This definition works because, at any point, enough of the integers 
+stream has been generated so that we can feed it back into the definition 
+to produce the next integer. 
+
+We can define the Fibonacci numbers in the same style: 
+
+62 This uses the generalized version of stream-map from Exercise 3.50. 
+
+
+
+445 
+
+
+
+(define fibs 
+(cons-stream 
+
+0 
+
+(cons-stream 1 (add-streams (stream-cdr fibs) fibs)))) 
+
+This definition says that fibs is a stream beginning with 0 and 1, such 
+that the rest of the stream can be generated by adding fibs to itself 
+shifted by one place: 
+
+112 3 5 8 13 21 ... = (stream-cdr fibs) 
+0 112 3 5 8 13 ... = fibs 
+0 1 1 2 3 5 8 13 21 34 ... = fibs 
+
+Scale-stream is another useful procedure in formulating such stream 
+definitions. This multiplies each item in a stream by a given constant: 
+
+(define (scale-stream stream factor) 
+(stream-map (lambda (x) (* x factor)) 
+stream)) 
+
+For example, 
+
+(define double (cons-stream 1 (scale-stream double 2))) 
+
+produces the stream of powers of 2: 1, 2, 4, 8, 16, 32, . . .. 
+
+An alternate definition of the stream of primes can be given by start- 
+ing with the integers and filtering them by testing for primality. We will 
+need the first prime, 2, to get started: 
+
+(define primes 
+(cons-stream 
+
+2 
+
+(stream-filter prime? (integers-starting-f rom 3)))) 
+
+This definition is not so straightforward as it appears, because we will 
+test whether a number n is prime by checking whether n is divisible by 
+a prime (not by just any integer) less than or equal to yfn: 
+
+
+
+446 
+
+
+
+(define (prime? n) 
+(define (iter ps) 
+
+(cond ((> (square (stream-car ps)) n) true) 
+((divisible? n (stream-car ps)) false) 
+(else (iter (stream-cdr ps))))) 
+(iter primes)) 
+
+This is a recursive definition, since primes is defined in terms of the 
+prime? predicate, which itself uses the primes stream. The reason this 
+procedure works is that, at any point, enough of the primes stream has 
+been generated to test the primality of the numbers we need to check 
+next. That is, for every n we test for primality, either n is not prime (in 
+which case there is a prime already generated that divides it) or n is 
+prime (in which case there is a prime already generated— i.e., a prime 
+less than n— that is greater than -02). 63 
+
+Exercise 3.53: Without running the program, describe the 
+elements of the stream defined by 
+
+(define s (cons-stream 1 (add-streams s s))) 
+
+Exercise 3.54: Define a procedure mul-streams, analogous 
+to add-streams, that produces the elementwise product of 
+its two input streams. Use this together with the stream of 
+integers to complete the following definition of the stream 
+whose n th element (counting from 0) is n + 1 factorial: 
+
+63 This last point is very subtle and relies on the fact that p n+ \ < p 2 n . (Here, pj- denotes 
+the k^ 1 prime.) Estimates such as these are very difficult to establish. The ancient proof 
+by Euclid that there are an infinite number of primes shows that p n +\ < plp2 • ■ • pn + 1> 
+and no substantially better result was proved until 1851, when the Russian mathemati- 
+cian P. L. Chebyshev established that p n +\ < 2p n for all n. This result, originally con- 
+jectured in 1845, is known as Bertrand's hypothesis. A proof can be found in section 22.3 
+of Hardy and Wright 1960. 
+
+
+
+447 
+
+
+
+(define factorials 
+
+(cons-stream 1 (mul-streams (??) (??)))) 
+
+Exercise 3.55: Define a procedure partial-sums that takes 
+as argument a stream S and returns the stream whose ele- 
+ments are So, Sq+S\, S0 + S1+S2, . . .. For example, (partial- 
+sums integers) should be the stream 1, 3, 6, 10, 15, . . .. 
+
+Exercise 3.56: A famous problem, first raised by R. Ham- 
+ming, is to enumerate, in ascending order with no repeti- 
+tions, all positive integers with no prime factors other than 
+2, 3, or 5. One obvious way to do this is to simply test each 
+integer in turn to see whether it has any factors other than 
+2, 3, and 5. But this is very inefficient, since, as the integers 
+get larger, fewer and fewer of them fit the requirement. As 
+an alternative, let us call the required stream of numbers S 
+and notice the following facts about it. 
+
+• S begins with 1. 
+
+• The elements of (scale-stream S 2) are also ele- 
+ments of S. 
+
+• The same is true for (scale-stream S 3) and (scale- 
+stream 5 S). 
+
+• These are all the elements of S. 
+
+Now all we have to do is combine elements from these sources. 
+For this we define a procedure me rge that combines two or- 
+dered streams into one ordered result stream, eliminating 
+repetitions: 
+
+
+
+448 
+
+
+
+(define (merge si s2) 
+
+(cond ((stream-null? si) s2) 
+((stream-null? s2) s1) 
+(else 
+
+(let ((slcar (stream-car s1)) 
+(s2car (stream-car s2))) 
+(cond ((< slcar s2car) 
+(cons-stream 
+s1 car 
+
+(merge (stream-cdr s1) s2))) 
+((> slcar s2car) 
+(cons-stream 
+s2car 
+
+(merge si (stream-cdr s2)))) 
+(else 
+(cons-stream 
+s1 car 
+
+(merge (stream-cdr s1) 
+
+(stream-cdr s2))))))))) 
+
+Then the required stream may be constructed with merge, 
+as follows: 
+
+(define S (cons-stream 1 (merge (??) (??)))) 
+
+Fill in the missing expressions in the places marked (??) 
+above. 
+
+Exercise 3.57: How many additions are performed when 
+we compute the n th Fibonacci number using the definition 
+of fibs based on the add-streams procedure? Show that 
+the number of additions would be exponentially greater 
+if we had implemented (delay (exp)) simply as (lambda 
+
+
+
+449 
+
+
+
+( ) (exp)) , without using the optimization provided by the 
+memo-proc procedure described in Section 3.5.1. 64 
+
+Exercise 3.58: Give an interpretation of the stream com- 
+puted by the following procedure: 
+
+(define (expand num den radix) 
+(cons-stream 
+(quotient (* num radix) den) 
+
+(expand (remainder (* num radix) den) den radix))) 
+
+(Quotient is a primitive that returns the integer quotient of 
+two integers.) What are the successive elements produced 
+by (expand 1 7 1 0)? What is produced by (expand 3 8 
+10)? 
+
+Exercise 3.59: In Section 2.5.3 we saw how to implement 
+a polynomial arithmetic system representing polynomials 
+as lists of terms. In a similar way we can work with power 
+series, such as 
+
+2 3 4 
+
+X X X 
+
+e x = 1 + x + — + + + . . . , 
+
+2 3-2 4-3-2 
+
+2 4 
+X X 
+
+COS X — 1 + 
+
+
+
+2 4-3-2 
+
+3 5 
+X X 
+
+
+
+sin x — x — 
+
+
+
+3-2 5-4-3-2 
+
+
+
+64 This exercise shows how call-by-need is closely related to ordinary memoization as 
+described in Exercise 3.27. In that exercise, we used assignment to explicitly construct 
+a local table. Our call-by-need stream optimization effectively constructs such a table 
+automatically, storing values in the previously forced parts of the stream. 
+
+
+
+450 
+
+
+
+represented as infinite streams. We will represent the series 
+a 0 + a\X + a 2 x 2 + a 3 x 3 + ... as the stream whose elements 
+are the coefficients a Q , a\, a 2 , a 3 , . . .. 
+
+a. The integral of the series a Q + a.\x + a 2 x 2 + a 3 x 3 + . . . 
+is the series 
+
+1 2 1 3 1 4 
+
+c + a 0 x + ~ a i x + g fl 2 x + 4 a3X + ■ • ■ ' 
+
+where c is any constant. Define a procedure integrate- 
+series that takes as input a stream a 0 , a\, a 2 , . . . rep- 
+resenting a power series and returns the stream ao, 
+\ot\> \ a ii • • • of coefficients of the non-constant terms 
+of the integral of the series. (Since the result has no 
+constant term, it doesn't represent a power series; when 
+we use integrate-series, we will cons on the ap- 
+propriate constant.) 
+
+b. The function x \- > e x is its own derivative. This im- 
+plies that e x and the integral of e x are the same se- 
+ries, except for the constant term, which is e° = 1. 
+Accordingly, we can generate the series for e x as 
+
+(define exp-series 
+
+(cons-stream 1 (integrate-series exp-series))) 
+
+Show how to generate the series for sine and cosine, 
+starting from the facts that the derivative of sine is 
+cosine and the derivative of cosine is the negative of 
+sine: 
+
+(define cosine-series (cons-stream 1 (??))) 
+(define sine-series (cons-stream 0 (??))) 
+
+
+
+451 
+
+
+
+Exercise 3.60: With power series represented as streams 
+of coefficients as in Exercise 3.59, adding series is imple- 
+mented by add-st reams. Complete the definition of the fol- 
+lowing procedure for multiplying series: 
+
+(define (mul-series s1 s2) 
+
+(cons-stream (??) (add-streams (??) (??)))) 
+
+You can test your procedure by verifying that sin 2 x + cos 2 x = 1, 
+using the series from Exercise 3.59. 
+
+Exercise 3.6T : Let S be a power series (Exercise 3.59) whose 
+constant term is 1. Suppose we want to find the power se- 
+ries 1/S, that is, the series X such that SX - 1. Write 
+S - 1 + Sr where Sr is the part of S after the constant 
+term. Then we can solve for X as follows: 
+
+S ■ X = 1, 
+(1 + S R )-X = l, 
+X + Sr ■ X - 1, 
+
+X = 1-S R -X. 
+
+In other words, X is the power series whose constant term 
+is 1 and whose higher-order terms are given by the negative 
+of Sr times X. Use this idea to write a procedure invert- 
+unit-series that computes 1/S for a power series S with 
+constant term 1. You will need to use mul-series from Ex- 
+ercise 3.60. 
+
+Exercise 3.62: Use the results of Exercise 3.60 and Exer- 
+cise 3.61 to define a procedure div-series that divides two 
+power series. Div-series should work for any two series, 
+
+
+
+452 
+
+
+
+provided that the denominator series begins with a nonzero 
+constant term. (If the denominator has a zero constant term, 
+then div-series should signal an error.) Show how to use 
+div- series together with the result of Exercise 3.59 to gen- 
+erate the power series for tangent. 
+
+3.5.3 Exploiting the Stream Paradigm 
+
+Streams with delayed evaluation can be a powerful modeling tool, pro- 
+viding many of the benefits of local state and assignment. Moreover, 
+they avoid some of the theoretical tangles that accompany the intro- 
+duction of assignment into a programming language. 
+
+The stream approach can be illuminating because it allows us to 
+build systems with different module boundaries than systems organized 
+around assignment to state variables. For example, we can think of an 
+entire time series (or signal) as a focus of interest, rather than the values 
+of the state variables at individual moments. This makes it convenient 
+to combine and compare components of state from different moments. 
+
+Formulating iterations as stream processes 
+
+In Section 1.2.1, we introduced iterative processes, which proceed by 
+updating state variables. We know now that we can represent state as 
+a "timeless" stream of values rather than as a set of variables to be up- 
+dated. Let's adopt this perspective in revisiting the square-root proce- 
+dure from Section 1.1.7. Recall that the idea is to generate a sequence of 
+better and better guesses for the square root of x by applying over and 
+over again the procedure that improves guesses: 
+
+(define (sqrt-improve guess x) 
+(average guess (/ x guess))) 
+
+
+
+453 
+
+
+
+In our original sqrt procedure, we made these guesses be the successive 
+values of a state variable. Instead we can generate the infinite stream of 
+guesses, starting with an initial guess of l: 65 
+
+(define (sqrt-stream x) 
+(define guesses 
+(cons-stream 
+1.0 
+
+(stream-map (lambda (guess) (sqrt-improve guess x)) 
+guesses))) 
+
+guesses) 
+
+(display-stream (sqrt-stream 2)) 
+7. 
+
+1.5 
+
+7 .4166666666666665 
+7 .4142156862745097 
+1 .4142135623746899 
+
+We can generate more and more terms of the stream to get better and 
+better guesses. If we like, we can write a procedure that keeps generating 
+terms until the answer is good enough. (See Exercise 3.64.) 
+
+Another iteration that we can treat in the same way is to generate 
+an approximation to n, based upon the alternating series that we saw 
+in Section 1.3.1: 
+
+K 111 
+
+- = 1 - - + + .... 
+
+4 3 5 7 
+
+We first generate the stream of summands of the series (the reciprocals 
+of the odd integers, with alternating signs). Then we take the stream of 
+
+65 We can't use let to bind the local variable guesses, because the value of guesses 
+depends on guesses itself. Exercise 3.63 addresses why we want a local variable here. 
+
+
+
+454 
+
+
+
+sums of more and more terms (using the partial-sums procedure of 
+Exercise 3.55) and scale the result by 4: 
+
+(define (pi-summands n) 
+
+(cons-stream (/ 1.0 n) 
+
+(stream-map - (pi-summands (+ n 2))))) 
+(define pi-stream 
+
+(scale-stream (partial-sums (pi-summands 1)) 4)) 
+
+(display-stream pi-stream) 
+4. 
+
+2.666666666666667 
+
+3.466666666666667 
+
+2.8952380952380956 
+
+3.3396825396825403 
+
+2.9760461760461765 
+
+3.2837384837384844 
+
+3.017071817071818 
+
+This gives us a stream of better and better approximations to n, although 
+the approximations converge rather slowly. Eight terms of the sequence 
+bound the value of n between 3.284 and 3.017. 
+
+So far, our use of the stream of states approach is not much different 
+from updating state variables. But streams give us an opportunity to do 
+some interesting tricks. For example, we can transform a stream with 
+a sequence, accelerator that converts a sequence of approximations to a 
+new sequence that converges to the same value as the original, only 
+faster. 
+
+One such accelerator, due to the eighteenth-century Swiss math- 
+ematician Leonhard Euler, works well with sequences that are partial 
+sums of alternating series (series of terms with alternating signs). In Eu- 
+ler's technique, if S n is the n th term of the original sum sequence, then 
+
+
+
+455 
+
+
+
+the accelerated sequence has terms 
+
+
+
+S; 
+
+
+
+
+n+1 _ 
+
+
+
+s, 
+
+
+
+i - 2S n + S, 
+
+
+
+Thus, if the original sequence is represented as a stream of values, the 
+transformed sequence is given by 
+
+(define (euler-transf orm s) 
+
+
+
+(cons-stream (- s2 (/ (square (- s2 s1)) 
+
+(+ s0 (* -2 s1) s2))) 
+(euler-transform (stream-cdr s))))) 
+
+We can demonstrate Euler acceleration with our sequence of approxi- 
+mations to k: 
+
+(display-stream (euler-transform pi-stream)) 
+
+3. 166666666666667 
+3. 1333333333333337 
+3. 1452380952380956 
+3. 13968253968254 
+3. 1427128427128435 
+3. 1408813408813416 
+3. 142071817071818 
+3. 1412548236077655 
+
+Even better, we can accelerate the accelerated sequence, and recursively 
+accelerate that, and so on. Namely, we create a stream of streams (a 
+structure we'll call a tableau) in which each stream is the transform of 
+the preceding one: 
+
+
+
+(let ((s0 (stream-ref s 0)) 
+(s1 (stream-ref s 1)) 
+(s2 (stream-ref s 2))) 
+
+
+
+S, 
+
+s, 
+s, 
+
+
+
+n-1 
+
+
+
+n 
+
+
+
+n+1 
+
+
+
+456 
+
+
+
+(define (make-tableau transform s) 
+
+(cons-stream s (make-tableau transform (transform s)))) 
+
+The tableau has the form 
+
+s 00 s 01 s 02 s 03 s 04 • ■ ■ 
+SlO Sn S\2 SJ3 ... 
+s 20 s 21 s 22 
+
+Finally, we form a sequence by taking the first term in each row of the 
+tableau: 
+
+(define (accelerated-sequence transform s) 
+
+(stream-map stream-car (make-tableau transform s))) 
+
+We can demonstrate this kind of "super-acceleration" of the n sequence: 
+
+(display-stream 
+
+(accelerated-sequence euler-transform pi-stream)) 
+4. 
+
+3. 166666666666667 
+3. 142W5263157895 
+3. 141599357319005 
+3. 1415927140337785 
+3. 1415926539752927 
+3. 1415926535911765 
+3. 141592653589778 
+
+The result is impressive. Taking eight terms of the sequence yields the 
+correct value of n to 14 decimal places. If we had used only the original 
+n sequence, we would need to compute on the order of 10 13 terms (i.e., 
+expanding the series far enough so that the individual terms are less 
+than 10 -13 ) to get that much accuracy! 
+
+
+
+457 
+
+
+
+We could have implemented these acceleration techniques without 
+using streams. But the stream formulation is particularly elegant and 
+convenient because the entire sequence of states is available to us as a 
+data structure that can be manipulated with a uniform set of operations. 
+
+Exercise 3.63: Louis Reasoner asks why the sqrt-stream 
+procedure was not written in the following more straight- 
+forward way, without the local variable guesses: 
+
+(define (sqrt-stream x) 
+
+(cons-stream 1.0 (stream-map 
+
+(lambda (guess) 
+
+(sqrt-improve guess x)) 
+(sqrt-stream x)))) 
+
+Alyssa P. Hacker replies that this version of the procedure 
+is considerably less efficient because it performs redundant 
+computation. Explain Alyssa' s answer. Would the two ver- 
+sions still differ in efficiency if our implementation of delay 
+used only (lambda () (exp)) without using the optimiza- 
+tion provided by memo-proc (Section 3.5.1)? 
+
+Exercise 3.64: Write a procedure stream-limit that takes 
+as arguments a stream and a number (the tolerance). It should 
+examine the stream until it finds two successive elements 
+that differ in absolute value by less than the tolerance, and 
+return the second of the two elements. Using this, we could 
+compute square roots up to a given tolerance by 
+
+(define (sqrt x tolerance) 
+
+(stream-limit (sqrt-stream x) tolerance)) 
+
+
+
+458 
+
+
+
+Exercise 3.65: Use the series 
+
+1 1 1 
+
+In 2 = 1 - - + + ... 
+
+2 3 4 
+
+to compute three sequences of approximations to the nat- 
+ural logarithm of 2, in the same way we did above for n. 
+How rapidly do these sequences converge? 
+
+Infinite streams of pairs 
+
+In Section 2.2.3, we saw how the sequence paradigm handles traditional 
+nested loops as processes defined on sequences of pairs. If we generalize 
+this technique to infinite streams, then we can write programs that are 
+not easily represented as loops, because the "looping" must range over 
+an infinite set. 
+
+For example, suppose we want to generalize the prime-sum-pairs 
+procedure of Section 2.2.3 to produce the stream of pairs of all integers 
+(i, /) with i < j such that i + j is prime. If int-pairs is the sequence of 
+all pairs of integers (i, j) with i < j, then our required stream is simply 66 
+
+(stream-filter 
+(lambda (pair) (prime? (+ (car pair) (cadr pair)))) 
+int-pairs) 
+
+Our problem, then, is to produce the stream int-pai rs. More generally, 
+suppose we have two streams S = (Si) and T - (T,), and imagine the 
+infinite rectangular array 
+
+(S 0 , T 0 ) (So.TO (So, T 2 ) ... 
+(Sj, To) (Sj, T) (S U T 2 ) ... 
+(S 2 ,T 0 ) (S 2 ,T) (S 2 ,T0 ... 
+
+
+
+'As in Section 2.2.3, we represent a pair of integers as a list rather than a Lisp pair. 
+
+
+
+459 
+
+
+
+We wish to generate a stream that contains all the pairs in the array 
+that lie on or above the diagonal, i.e., the pairs 
+
+
+
+(S 0 , T 0 ) (So, TO (S 0 ,T 2 ) ... 
+(S 1? 71) (S 1 ,T 2 ) ... 
+(S 2 ,T 2 ) ... 
+
+(If we take both S and T to be the stream of integers, then this will be 
+our desired stream int-pairs.) 
+
+Call the general stream of pairs (pairs S T), and consider it to be 
+composed of three parts: the pair (S 0 , T 0 ), the rest of the pairs in the first 
+row, and the remaining pairs: 67 
+
+
+
+(So, T 0 ) 
+
+
+(So, TO 
+
+
+(So.ro •■■ 
+
+
+
+
+(Si, TO 
+
+
+(S l5 T0 ... 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+(S 2 ,T0 ... 
+
+
+
+Observe that the third piece in this decomposition (pairs that are not 
+in the first row) is (recursively) the pairs formed from (stream-cdr S) 
+and (stream-cdr T). Also note that the second piece (the rest of the 
+first row) is 
+
+(stream-map (lambda (x) (list (stream-car s) x)) 
+(stream-cdr t)) 
+
+Thus we can form our stream of pairs as follows: 
+
+(define (pairs s t) 
+(cons-stream 
+(list (stream-car s) (stream-car t)) 
+
+67 See Exercise 3.68 for some insight into why we chose this decomposition. 
+
+
+
+460 
+
+
+
+{{combine- in-some-way) 
+
+(stream-map (lambda (x) (list (stream-car s) x)) 
+
+(stream-cdr t)) 
+(pairs (stream-cdr s) (stream-cdr t))))) 
+
+In order to complete the procedure, we must choose some way to com- 
+bine the two inner streams. One idea is to use the stream analog of the 
+append procedure from Section 2.2.1: 
+
+(define (stream-append si s2) 
+(if (stream-null? si) 
+s2 
+
+(cons-stream (stream-car s1) 
+
+(stream-append (stream-cdr s1) s2)))) 
+
+This is unsuitable for infinite streams, however, because it takes all the 
+elements from the first stream before incorporating the second stream. 
+In particular, if we try to generate all pairs of positive integers using 
+
+(pairs integers integers) 
+
+our stream of results will first try to run through all pairs with the first 
+integer equal to 1, and hence will never produce pairs with any other 
+value of the first integer. 
+
+To handle infinite streams, we need to devise an order of combina- 
+tion that ensures that every element will eventually be reached if we 
+let our program run long enough. An elegant way to accomplish this is 
+with the following interleave procedure: 68 
+
+68 The precise statement of the required property on the order of combination is as 
+follows: There should be a function / of two arguments such that the pair correspond- 
+ing to element i of the first stream and element j of the second stream will appear as 
+element number f(i,j) of the output stream. The trick of using interleave to accom- 
+plish this was shown to us by David Turner, who employed it in the language KRC 
+(Turner 1981). 
+
+
+
+461 
+
+
+
+(define (interleave si s2) 
+(if (stream-null? si) 
+s2 
+
+(cons-stream (stream-car s1) 
+
+(interleave s2 (stream-cdr s1))))) 
+
+Since interleave takes elements alternately from the two streams, ev- 
+ery element of the second stream will eventually find its way into the 
+interleaved stream, even if the first stream is infinite. 
+We can thus generate the required stream of pairs as 
+
+(define (pairs s t) 
+(cons-stream 
+(list (stream-car s) (stream-car t)) 
+(interleave 
+
+(stream-map (lambda (x) (list (stream-car s) x)) 
+
+(stream-cdr t)) 
+(pairs (stream-cdr s) (stream-cdr t))))) 
+
+
+
+Exercise 3.66: Examine the stream (pairs integers integers). 
+Can you make any general comments about the order in 
+which the pairs are placed into the stream? For example, 
+approximately how many pairs precede the pair (1, 100)? 
+the pair (99, 100)? the pair (100, 100)? (If you can make pre- 
+cise mathematical statements here, all the better. But feel 
+free to give more qualitative answers if you find yourself 
+getting bogged down.) 
+
+Exercise 3.67: Modify the pairs procedure so that (pairs 
+integers integers) will produce the stream of all pairs of 
+integers (without the condition i < j). Hint: You will 
+need to mix in an additional stream. 
+
+
+
+462 
+
+
+
+Exercise 3.68: Louis Reasoner thinks that building a stream 
+of pairs from three parts is unnecessarily complicated. In- 
+stead of separating the pair (S 0 , T 0 ) from the rest of the pairs 
+in the first row, he proposes to work with the whole first 
+row, as follows: 
+
+(define (pairs s t) 
+(interleave 
+
+(stream-map (lambda (x) (list (stream-car s) x)) 
+t) 
+
+(pairs (stream-cdr s) (stream-cdr t)))) 
+
+Does this work? Consider what happens if we evaluate (pai rs 
+integers integers) using Louis's definition of pairs. 
+
+Exercise 3.69: Write a procedure triples that takes three 
+infinite streams, S, T, and U, and produces the stream of 
+triples (Si,Tj, U^) such that i < j < k. Use triples to gen- 
+erate the stream of all Pythagorean triples of positive inte- 
+gers, i.e., the triples k) such that i < j and i z + j 2 - k 2 . 
+
+Exercise 3.70: It would be nice to be able to generate streams 
+in which the pairs appear in some useful order, rather than 
+in the order that results from an ad hoc interleaving pro- 
+cess. We can use a technique similar to the merge procedure 
+of Exercise 3.56, if we define a way to say that one pair of 
+integers is "less than" another. One way to do this is to de- 
+fine a "weighting function" W(i, j) and stipulate that (ij , ji) 
+is less than (12,^2) if < W(i 2 ,j2)- Write a proce- 
+
+dure merge-weighted that is like merge, except that merge- 
+weighted takes an additional argument weight, which is a 
+procedure that computes the weight of a pair, and is used 
+
+
+
+463 
+
+
+
+to determine the order in which elements should appear in 
+the resulting merged stream. 69 Using this, generalize pairs 
+to a procedure weighted-pairs that takes two streams, to- 
+gether with a procedure that computes a weighting func- 
+tion, and generates the stream of pairs, ordered according 
+to weight. Use your procedure to generate 
+
+a. the stream of all pairs of positive integers with 
+i < j ordered according to the sum i + j, 
+
+b. the stream of all pairs of positive integers with 
+i < j, where neither i nor j is divisible by 2, 3, or 5, and 
+the pairs are ordered according to the sum 2i + 3j+ 5ij. 
+
+Exercise 3.7T : Numbers that can be expressed as the sum of 
+two cubes in more than one way are sometimes called Ra- 
+manujan numbers, in honor of the mathematician Srinivasa 
+Ramanujan. 70 Ordered streams of pairs provide an elegant 
+solution to the problem of computing these numbers. To 
+find a number that can be written as the sum of two cubes 
+in two different ways, we need only generate the stream of 
+pairs of integers weighted according to the sum i 3 + j 3 
+
+69 We will require that the weighting function be such that the weight of a pair in- 
+creases as we move out along a row or down along a column of the array of pairs. 
+
+70 To quote from G. H. Hardy's obituary of Ramanujan (Hardy 1921): "It was Mr. 
+Littlewood (I believe) who remarked that 'every positive integer was one of his friends.' 
+I remember once going to see him when he was lying ill at Putney. I had ridden in taxi- 
+cab No. 1729, and remarked that the number seemed to me a rather dull one, and that I 
+hoped it was not an unfavorable omen. 'No,' he replied, 'it is a very interesting number; 
+it is the smallest number expressible as the sum of two cubes in two different ways.' " 
+The trick of using weighted pairs to generate the Ramanujan numbers was shown to 
+us by Charles Leiserson. 
+
+
+
+464 
+
+
+
+(see Exercise 3.70), then search the stream for two consecu- 
+tive pairs with the same weight. Write a procedure to gener- 
+ate the Ramanujan numbers. The first such number is 1,729. 
+What are the next five? 
+
+Exercise 3.72: In a similar way to Exercise 3.71 generate a 
+stream of all numbers that can be written as the sum of two 
+squares in three different ways (showing how they can be 
+so written). 
+
+Streams as signals 
+
+We began our discussion of streams by describing them as computa- 
+tional analogs of the "signals" in signal-processing systems. In fact, we 
+can use streams to model signal-processing systems in a very direct 
+way, representing the values of a signal at successive time intervals as 
+consecutive elements of a stream. For instance, we can implement an 
+integrator or summer that, for an input stream x - (xj), an initial value 
+C, and a small increment dt, accumulates the sum 
+
+
+
+and returns the stream of values S - (S,). The following integral pro- 
+cedure is reminiscent of the "implicit style" definition of the stream of 
+integers (Section 3.5.2): 
+
+(define (integral integrand initial-value dt) 
+(define int 
+
+(cons-stream initial-value 
+
+
+
+= C + 
+
+
+
+
+(add-streams (scale-stream integrand dt) 
+int))) 
+
+
+
+int) 
+
+
+
+465 
+
+
+
+
+Figure 3.32: The integral procedure viewed as a signal- 
+processing system. 
+
+
+
+Figure 3.32 is a picture of a signal-processing system that corresponds 
+to the integral procedure. The input stream is scaled by dt and passed 
+through an adder, whose output is passed back through the same adder. 
+The self-reference in the definition of int is reflected in the figure by 
+the feedback loop that connects the output of the adder to one of the 
+inputs. 
+
+Exercise 3.73: We can model electrical circuits using streams 
+to represent the values of currents or voltages at a sequence 
+of times. For instance, suppose we have an RC circuit con- 
+sisting of a resistor of resistance R and a capacitor of capac- 
+itance C in series. The voltage response v of the circuit to 
+an injected current i is determined by the formula in Fig- 
+ure 3.33, whose structure is shown by the accompanying 
+signal-flow diagram. 
+
+Write a procedure RC that models this circuit. RC should 
+take as inputs the values of R, C, and dt and should return 
+a procedure that takes as inputs a stream representing the 
+current i and an initial value for the capacitor voltage vq 
+
+
+
+466 
+
+
+
+
+Figure 3.33: An RC circuit and the associated signal-flow diagram. 
+
+
+
+and produces as output the stream of voltages v. For ex- 
+ample, you should be able to use RC to model an RC circuit 
+with R = 5 ohms, C = 1 farad, and a 0.5-second time step by 
+evaluating (define RC1 (RC 5 1 0.5)). This defines RC1 
+as a procedure that takes a stream representing the time 
+sequence of currents and an initial capacitor voltage and 
+produces the output stream of voltages. 
+
+Exercise 3.74: Alyssa P. Hacker is designing a system to 
+process signals coming from physical sensors. One impor- 
+tant feature she wishes to produce is a signal that describes 
+the zero crossings of the input signal. That is, the resulting 
+signal should be +1 whenever the input signal changes from 
+negative to positive, -1 whenever the input signal changes 
+from positive to negative, and 0 otherwise. (Assume that 
+the sign of a 0 input is positive.) For example, a typical in- 
+
+
+
+467 
+
+
+
+put signal with its associated zero-crossing signal would be 
+
+... 1 2 1.5 1 0.5 -0.1 -2 -3 -2 -0.5 0.2 3 4 ... 
+...00000 -1 000 0 1 00... 
+
+In Alyssa's system, the signal from the sensor is represented 
+as a stream sense-data and the stream zero-crossings 
+is the corresponding stream of zero crossings. Alyssa first 
+writes a procedure sign-change-detector that takes two 
+values as arguments and compares the signs of the values 
+to produce an appropriate 0, 1, or - 1. She then constructs 
+her zero-crossing stream as follows: 
+
+(define (make-zero-crossings input-stream last-value) 
+(cons-stream 
+(sign-change-detector 
+(stream-car input-stream) 
+last-value) 
+(make-zero-crossings 
+(stream-cdr input-stream) 
+(stream-car input-stream)))) 
+(define zero-crossings 
+
+(make-zero-crossings sense-data 0)) 
+
+Alyssa's boss, Eva Lu Ator, walks by and suggests that this 
+program is approximately equivalent to the following one, 
+which uses the generalized version of stream-map from Ex- 
+ercise 3.50: 
+
+(define zero-crossings 
+
+(stream-map sign-change-detector 
+sense-data 
+(expression))) 
+
+
+
+468 
+
+
+
+Complete the program by supplying the indicated (expression). 
+
+Exercise 3.75: Unfortunately Alyssa's zero-crossing de- 
+tector in Exercise 3.74 proves to be insufficient, because the 
+noisy signal from the sensor leads to spurious zero cross- 
+ings. Lem E. Tweakit, a hardware specialist, suggests that 
+Alyssa smooth the signal to filter out the noise before ex- 
+tracting the zero crossings. Alyssa takes his advice and de- 
+cides to extract the zero crossings from the signal constructed 
+by averaging each value of the sense data with the previous 
+value. She explains the problem to her assistant, Louis Rea- 
+soner, who attempts to implement the idea, altering Alyssa's 
+program as follows: 
+
+(define (make-zero-crossings input-stream last-value) 
+(let ((avpt (/ (+ (stream-car input-stream) 
+last-value) 
+
+2))) 
+
+(cons-stream 
+(sign-change-detector avpt last-value) 
+(make-zero-crossings 
+(stream-cdr input-stream) avpt)))) 
+
+This does not correctly implement Alyssa's plan. Find the 
+bug that Louis has installed and fix it without changing the 
+structure of the program. (Hint: You will need to increase 
+the number of arguments to make-zero-crossings.) 
+
+Exercise 3.76: Eva Lu Ator has a criticism of Louis's ap- 
+proach in Exercise 3.75. The program he wrote is not mod- 
+ular, because it intermixes the operation of smoothing with 
+the zero-crossing extraction. For example, the extractor should 
+
+
+
+469 
+
+
+
+not have to be changed if Alyssa finds a better way to con- 
+dition her input signal. Help Louis by writing a procedure 
+smooth that takes a stream as input and produces a stream 
+in which each element is the average of two successive in- 
+put stream elements. Then use smooth as a component to 
+implement the zero-crossing detector in a more modular 
+style. 
+
+3.5.4 Streams and Delayed Evaluation 
+
+The integral procedure at the end of the preceding section shows how 
+we can use streams to model signal-processing systems that contain 
+feedback loops. The feedback loop for the adder shown in Figure 3.32 
+is modeled by the fact that integral's internal stream int is defined in 
+terms of itself: 
+
+(define int 
+
+(cons-stream 
+initial-value 
+
+(add-streams (scale-stream integrand dt) 
+int))) 
+
+The interpreter's ability to deal with such an implicit definition depends 
+on the delay that is incorporated into cons -stream. Without this delay, 
+the interpreter could not construct int before evaluating both argu- 
+ments to cons-stream, which would require that int already be defined. 
+In general, delay is crucial for using streams to model signal-processing 
+systems that contain loops. Without delay, our models would have to 
+be formulated so that the inputs to any signal-processing component 
+would be fully evaluated before the output could be produced. This 
+would outlaw loops. 
+
+
+
+470 
+
+
+
+y 0 
+
+
+
+A 
+
+
+
+
+
+r > 
+
+map: f 
+
+. j 
+
+
+dy 
+
+
+■> 
+
+integral 
+
+
+y 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+- 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+■ 
+
+
+
+
+
+Figure 3.34: An "analog computer circuit" that solves the 
+equation dy/dt = f(y). 
+
+Unfortunately, stream models of systems with loops may require 
+uses of delay beyond the "hidden" delay supplied by cons-stream. For 
+instance, Figure 3.34 shows a signal-processing system for solving the 
+differential equation dy/dt - f(y) where f is a given function. The fig- 
+ure shows a mapping component, which applies / to its input signal, 
+linked in a feedback loop to an integrator in a manner very similar to 
+that of the analog computer circuits that are actually used to solve such 
+equations. 
+
+Assuming we are given an initial value y Q for y, we could try to 
+model this system using the procedure 
+
+(define (solve f y0 dt) 
+
+(define y (integral dy y0 dt)) 
+(define dy (stream-map f y)) 
+
+y) 
+
+This procedure does not work, because in the first line of solve the 
+call to integral requires that the input dy be denned, which does not 
+happen until the second line of solve. 
+
+On the other hand, the intent of our definition does make sense, 
+because we can, in principle, begin to generate the y stream without 
+
+
+
+471 
+
+
+
+knowing dy. Indeed, integral and many other stream operations have 
+properties similar to those of cons-stream, in that we can generate 
+part of the answer given only partial information about the arguments. 
+For integral, the first element of the output stream is the specified 
+initial-value. Thus, we can generate the first element of the output 
+stream without evaluating the integrand dy. Once we know the first 
+element of y, the stream-map in the second line of solve can begin 
+working to generate the first element of dy, which will produce the 
+next element of y, and so on. 
+
+To take advantage of this idea, we will redefine integral to expect 
+the integrand stream to be a delayed argument. Integral will force the 
+integrand to be evaluated only when it is required to generate more than 
+the first element of the output stream: 
+
+(define (integral delayed-integrand initial-value dt) 
+(define int 
+(cons-stream 
+initial-value 
+
+(let ((integrand (force delayed-integrand))) 
+
+(add-streams (scale-stream integrand dt) int)))) 
+
+int) 
+
+Now we can implement our solve procedure by delaying the evaluation 
+of dy in the definition of y: 71 
+
+(define (solve f y0 dt) 
+
+(define y (integral (delay dy) y0 dt)) 
+(define dy (stream-map f y)) 
+
+y) 
+
+71 This procedure is not guaranteed to work in all Scheme implementations, although 
+for any implementation there is a simple variation that will work. The problem has to 
+do with subtle differences in the ways that Scheme implementations handle internal 
+definitions. (See Section 4.1.6.) 
+
+
+
+472 
+
+
+
+In general, every caller of integral must now delay the integrand ar- 
+gument. We can demonstrate that the solve procedure works by ap- 
+proximating e ~ 2.718 by computing the value at y = 1 of the solution 
+to the differential equation dy/dt - y with initial condition y(0) = 1: 
+
+(stream-ref (solve (lambda (y) y) 
+
+1 
+
+0.001) 
+
+1000) 
+
+2. 716924 
+
+
+
+Exercise 3.77: The integral procedure used above was 
+analogous to the "implicit" definition of the infinite stream 
+of integers in Section 3.5.2. Alternatively, we can give a def- 
+inition of integral that is more like integers-starting- 
+f rom (also in Section 3.5.2): 
+
+(define (integral integrand initial-value dt) 
+(cons-stream 
+initial-value 
+
+(if (stream-null? integrand) 
+the-empty-stream 
+(integral (stream-cdr integrand) 
+
+(+ (* dt (stream-car integrand)) 
+
+initial-value) 
+dt)))) 
+
+When used in systems with loops, this procedure has the 
+same problem as does our original version of integral. 
+Modify the procedure so that it expects the integrand as 
+a delayed argument and hence can be used in the solve 
+procedure shown above. 
+
+
+
+473 
+
+
+
+
+scale: b 
+
+
+
+Figure 3.35: Signal-flow diagram for the solution to a 
+second-order linear differential equation. 
+
+Exercise 3.78: Consider the problem of designing a signal- 
+processing system to study the homogeneous second-order 
+linear differential equation 
+
+d 2 y dy 
+
+-f - fl-f - by = 0. 
+dt 2 dt 
+
+The output stream, modeling y, is generated by a network 
+that contains a loop. This is because the value of d 2 y/dt 2 de- 
+pends upon the values of y and dy/dt and both of these are 
+determined by integrating d 2 y/dt 2 . The diagram we would 
+like to encode is shown in Figure 3.35. Write a procedure 
+solve-2nd that takes as arguments the constants a, b, and 
+dt and the initial values t/o and dyo for y and dy/dt and gen- 
+
+
+
+474 
+
+
+
++ v R - 
+
+AA/V 
+
+
+
+
+Figure 3.36: A series RLC circuit. 
+
+erates the stream of successive values of y. 
+
+Exercise 3.79: Generalize the solve-2nd procedure of Ex- 
+ercise 3.78 so that it can be used to solve general second- 
+order differential equations d 2 y/dt 2 = f(dy/dt, y). 
+
+
+
+Exercise 3.80: A series RLC circuit consists of a resistor, a 
+capacitor, and an inductor connected in series, as shown 
+in Figure 3.36. If R, L, and C are the resistance, inductance, 
+and capacitance, then the relations between voltage (v) and 
+current (i) for the three components are described by the 
+equations 
+
+dii dvc 
+v R = i R R, v L = L— , i c = C— — , 
+
+dt dt 
+
+and the circuit connections dictate the relations 
+iR=iL = ~ic , v c =v L + v R . 
+
+Combining these equations shows that the state of the cir- 
+cuit (summarized by vq, the voltage across the capacitor, 
+
+
+
+475 
+
+
+
+scale: 1 //_ 
+
+
+
+dv c 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+integ 
+
+
+ral 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+V 
+
+
+___ v Co 
+
+
+
+
+scale : 
+
+
+-1/C 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+integ 
+
+
+ral 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+--- % 
+
+
+
+
+scale : 
+
+
+-R/L 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+v c 
+
+
+
+Figure 3.37: A signal-flow diagram for the solution to a 
+series RLC circuit. 
+
+
+
+and ii, the current in the inductor) is described by the pair 
+of differential equations 
+
+dvc ii dii 1 R . 
+
+~~dT~~C' ~dT~L Vc ~T L ' 
+The signal-flow diagram representing this system of differ- 
+ential equations is shown in Figure 3.37. 
+
+Write a procedure RLC that takes as arguments the param- 
+eters R, L, and C of the circuit and the time increment dt. 
+
+
+
+476 
+
+
+
+In a manner similar to that of the RC procedure of Exercise 
+3.73, RLC should produce a procedure that takes the initial 
+values of the state variables, vq 0 and ii 0 , and produces a 
+pair (using cons) of the streams of states vq and ii. Using 
+RLC, generate the pair of streams that models the behavior 
+of a series RLC circuit with R = 1 ohm, C = 0.2 farad, L = 1 
+henry, dt = 0.1 second, and initial values ii 0 = 0 amps and 
+vc 0 = 10 volts. 
+
+Normal-order evaluation 
+
+The examples in this section illustrate how the explicit use of delay 
+and force provides great programming flexibility, but the same exam- 
+ples also show how this can make our programs more complex. Our new 
+integral procedure, for instance, gives us the power to model systems 
+with loops, but we must now remember that integral should be called 
+with a delayed integrand, and every procedure that uses integral must 
+be aware of this. In effect, we have created two classes of procedures: 
+ordinary procedures and procedures that take delayed arguments. In 
+general, creating separate classes of procedures forces us to create sep- 
+arate classes of higher-order procedures as well. 72 
+
+72 This is a small reflection, in Lisp, of the difficulties that conventional strongly typed 
+languages such as Pascal have in coping with higher-order procedures. In such lan- 
+guages, the programmer must specify the data types of the arguments and the result 
+of each procedure: number, logical value, sequence, and so on. Consequently, we could 
+not express an abstraction such as "map a given procedure proc over all the elements in 
+a sequence" by a single higher-order procedure such as stream-map. Rather, we would 
+need a different mapping procedure for each different combination of argument and 
+result data types that might be specified for a proc. Maintaining a practical notion of 
+"data type" in the presence of higher-order procedures raises many difficult issues. One 
+way of dealing with this problem is illustrated by the language ML (Gordon et al. 1979), 
+
+
+
+477 
+
+
+
+One way to avoid the need for two different classes of procedures is 
+to make all procedures take delayed arguments. We could adopt a model 
+of evaluation in which all arguments to procedures are automatically 
+delayed and arguments are forced only when they are actually needed 
+(for example, when they are required by a primitive operation). This 
+would transform our language to use normal-order evaluation, which 
+we first described when we introduced the substitution model for evalu- 
+ation in Section 1.1.5. Converting to normal-order evaluation provides a 
+uniform and elegant way to simplify the use of delayed evaluation, and 
+this would be a natural strategy to adopt if we were concerned only 
+with stream processing. In Section 4.2, after we have studied the eval- 
+uator, we will see how to transform our language in just this way. Un- 
+fortunately, including delays in procedure calls wreaks havoc with our 
+ability to design programs that depend on the order of events, such as 
+programs that use assignment, mutate data, or perform input or output. 
+Even the single delay in cons-stream can cause great confusion, as 
+illustrated by Exercise 3.51 and Exercise 3.52. As far as anyone knows, 
+mutability and delayed evaluation do not mix well in programming lan- 
+guages, and devising ways to deal with both of these at once is an active 
+area of research. 
+
+
+
+whose "polymorphic data types" include templates for higher-order transformations 
+between data types. Moreover, data types for most procedures in ML are never explic- 
+itly declared by the programmer. Instead, ML includes a type-inferencing mechanism 
+that uses information in the environment to deduce the data types for newly defined 
+procedures. 
+
+
+
+478 
+
+
+
+3.5.5 Modularity of Functional Programs 
+and Modularity of Objects 
+
+As we saw in Section 3.1.2, one of the major benefits of introducing 
+assignment is that we can increase the modularity of our systems by 
+encapsulating, or "hiding," parts of the state of a large system within 
+local variables. Stream models can provide an equivalent modularity 
+without the use of assignment. As an illustration, we can reimplement 
+the Monte Carlo estimation of n, which we examined in Section 3.1.2, 
+from a stream-processing point of view. 
+
+The key modularity issue was that we wished to hide the internal 
+state of a random-number generator from programs that used random 
+numbers. We began with a procedure rand-update, whose successive 
+values furnished our supply of random numbers, and used this to pro- 
+duce a random-number generator: 
+
+(define rand 
+
+(let ((x random-init)) 
+(lambda () 
+
+(set! x (rand-update x)) 
+
+x))) 
+
+In the stream formulation there is no random-number generator per se, 
+just a stream of random numbers produced by successive calls to rand- 
+update: 
+
+(define random-numbers 
+(cons-stream 
+random-init 
+
+(stream-map rand-update random-numbers))) 
+
+We use this to construct the stream of outcomes of the Cesaro experi- 
+ment performed on consecutive pairs in the random-numbers stream: 
+
+
+
+479 
+
+
+
+(define cesaro-stream 
+(map-successive-pairs 
+(lambda (r1 r2) (= (gcd r1 r2) 1)) 
+random-numbers)) 
+(define (map-successive-pairs f s) 
+(cons-stream 
+(f (stream-car s) (stream-car (stream-cdr s))) 
+(map-successive-pairs f (stream-cdr (stream-cdr s))))) 
+
+The cesaro-stream is now fed to a monte-carlo procedure, which pro- 
+duces a stream of estimates of probabilities. The results are then con- 
+verted into a stream of estimates of n. This version of the program 
+doesn't need a parameter telling how many trials to perform. Better esti- 
+mates of n (from performing more experiments) are obtained by looking 
+farther into the pi stream: 
+
+(define (monte-carlo experiment-stream passed failed) 
+(define (next passed failed) 
+(cons-stream 
+(/ passed (+ passed failed)) 
+(monte-carlo 
+(stream-cdr experiment-stream) passed failed))) 
+(if (stream-car experiment-stream) 
+(next (+ passed 1) failed) 
+(next passed (+ failed 1)))) 
+(define pi 
+(stream-map 
+(lambda (p) (sqrt (/ 6 p))) 
+(monte-carlo cesaro-stream 0 0))) 
+
+There is considerable modularity in this approach, because we still can 
+formulate a general monte-carlo procedure that can deal with arbitrary 
+experiments. Yet there is no assignment or local state. 
+
+
+
+480 
+
+
+
+Exercise 3.8T : Exercise 3.6 discussed generalizing the random- 
+number generator to allow one to reset the random-number 
+sequence so as to produce repeatable sequences of "ran- 
+dom" numbers. Produce a stream formulation of this same 
+generator that operates on an input stream of requests to 
+generate a new random number or to reset the sequence 
+to a specified value and that produces the desired stream of 
+random numbers. Don't use assignment in your solution. 
+
+Exercise 3.82: Redo Exercise 3.5 on Monte Carlo integra- 
+tion in terms of streams. The stream version of estimate- 
+integral will not have an argument telling how many tri- 
+als to perform. Instead, it will produce a stream of estimates 
+based on successively more trials. 
+
+A functional-programming view of time 
+
+Let us now return to the issues of objects and state that were raised at 
+the beginning of this chapter and examine them in a new light. We in- 
+troduced assignment and mutable objects to provide a mechanism for 
+modular construction of programs that model systems with state. We 
+constructed computational objects with local state variables and used 
+assignment to modify these variables. We modeled the temporal behav- 
+ior of the objects in the world by the temporal behavior of the corre- 
+sponding computational objects. 
+
+Now we have seen that streams provide an alternative way to model 
+objects with local state. We can model a changing quantity, such as the 
+local state of some object, using a stream that represents the time his- 
+tory of successive states. In essence, we represent time explicitly, using 
+streams, so that we decouple time in our simulated world from the se- 
+
+
+
+481 
+
+
+
+quence of events that take place during evaluation. Indeed, because of 
+the presence of delay there may be little relation between simulated 
+time in the model and the order of events during the evaluation. 
+
+In order to contrast these two approaches to modeling, let us recon- 
+sider the implementation of a "withdrawal processor" that monitors the 
+balance in a bank account. In Section 3.1.3 we implemented a simplified 
+version of such a processor: 
+
+(define (make-simplif ied-withdraw balance) 
+(lambda (amount) 
+
+(set! balance (- balance amount)) 
+balance)) 
+
+Calls to make-simplif ied-withdraw produce computational objects, 
+each with a local state variable balance that is decremented by suc- 
+cessive calls to the object. The object takes an amount as an argument 
+and returns the new balance. We can imagine the user of a bank ac- 
+count typing a sequence of inputs to such an object and observing the 
+sequence of returned values shown on a display screen. 
+
+Alternatively, we can model a withdrawal processor as a procedure 
+that takes as input a balance and a stream of amounts to withdraw and 
+produces the stream of successive balances in the account: 
+
+(define (stream-withdraw balance amount-stream) 
+(cons-stream 
+balance 
+
+(stream-withdraw (- balance (stream-car amount-stream)) 
+(stream-cdr amount-stream)))) 
+
+St ream-withdraw implements a well-defined mathematical function whose 
+output is fully determined by its input. Suppose, however, that the in- 
+put amount-stream is the stream of successive values typed by the user 
+and that the resulting stream of balances is displayed. Then, from the 
+
+
+
+482 
+
+
+
+perspective of the user who is typing values and watching results, the 
+stream process has the same behavior as the object created by make- 
+simplif ied-withdraw. However, with the stream version, there is no 
+assignment, no local state variable, and consequently none of the theo- 
+retical difficulties that we encountered in Section 3.1.3. Yet the system 
+has state! 
+
+This is re ally remarkable .Even though stream-withdraw implements 
+a well-defined mathematical function whose behavior does not change, 
+the user's perception here is one of interacting with a system that has a 
+changing state. One way to resolve this paradox is to realize that it is the 
+user's temporal existence that imposes state on the system. If the user 
+could step back from the interaction and think in terms of streams of 
+balances rather than individual transactions, the system would appear 
+stateless. 73 
+
+From the point of view of one part of a complex process, the other 
+parts appear to change with time. They have hidden time-varying lo- 
+cal state. If we wish to write programs that model this kind of natural 
+decomposition in our world (as we see it from our viewpoint as a part 
+of that world) with structures in our computer, we make computational 
+objects that are not functional— they must change with time. We model 
+state with local state variables, and we model the changes of state with 
+assignments to those variables. By doing this we make the time of ex- 
+ecution of a computation model time in the world that we are part of, 
+and thus we get "objects" in our computer. 
+
+Modeling with objects is powerful and intuitive, largely because this 
+matches the perception of interacting with a world of which we are 
+
+73 Similarly in physics, when we observe a moving particle, we say that the position 
+(state) of the particle is changing. However, from the perspective of the particle's world 
+line in space-time there is no change involved. 
+
+
+
+483 
+
+
+
+part. However, as we've seen repeatedly throughout this chapter, these 
+models raise thorny problems of constraining the order of events and 
+of synchronizing multiple processes. The possibility of avoiding these 
+problems has stimulated the development of functional programming 
+languages, which do not include any provision for assignment or mu- 
+table data. In such a language, all procedures implement well-defined 
+mathematical functions of their arguments, whose behavior does not 
+change. The functional approach is extremely attractive for dealing with 
+concurrent systems. 74 
+
+On the other hand, if we look closely, we can see time-related prob- 
+lems creeping into functional models as well. One particularly trou- 
+blesome area arises when we wish to design interactive systems, es- 
+pecially ones that model interactions between independent entities. For 
+instance, consider once more the implementation a banking system that 
+permits joint bank accounts. In a conventional system using assignment 
+and objects, we would model the fact that Peter and Paul share an ac- 
+count by having both Peter and Paul send their transaction requests 
+to the same bank-account object, as we saw in Section 3.1.3. From the 
+stream point of view, where there are no "objects" per se, we have al- 
+ready indicated that a bank account can be modeled as a process that 
+operates on a stream of transaction requests to produce a stream of 
+responses. Accordingly, we could model the fact that Peter and Paul 
+have a joint bank account by merging Peter's stream of transaction re- 
+quests with Paul's stream of requests and feeding the result to the bank- 
+account stream process, as shown in Figure 3.38. 
+
+74 John Backus, the inventor of Fortran, gave high visibility to functional program- 
+ming when he was awarded the ACM Turing award in 1978. His acceptance speech 
+(Backus 1978) strongly advocated the functional approach. A good overview of func- 
+tional programming is given in Henderson 1980 and in Darlington et al. 1982. 
+
+
+
+484 
+
+
+
+Peter's requests 
+
+
+merge 
+
+
+
+
+bank 
+account 
+
+
+
+
+Paul's requests 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Figure 3.38: A joint bank account, modeled by merging 
+two streams of transaction requests. 
+
+The trouble with this formulation is in the notion of merge. It will 
+not do to merge the two streams by simply taking alternately one re- 
+quest from Peter and one request from Paul. Suppose Paul accesses the 
+account only very rarely. We could hardly force Peter to wait for Paul to 
+access the account before he could issue a second transaction. However 
+such a merge is implemented, it must interleave the two transaction 
+streams in some way that is constrained by "real time" as perceived 
+by Peter and Paul, in the sense that, if Peter and Paul meet, they can 
+agree that certain transactions were processed before the meeting, and 
+other transactions were processed after the meeting. 75 This is precisely 
+the same constraint that we had to deal with in Section 3.4.1, where 
+we found the need to introduce explicit synchronization to ensure a 
+"correct" order of events in concurrent processing of objects with state. 
+Thus, in an attempt to support the functional style, the need to merge 
+inputs from different agents reintroduces the same problems that the 
+functional style was meant to eliminate. 
+
+75 Observe that, for any two streams, there is in general more than one acceptable or- 
+der of interleaving. Thus, technically, "merge" is a relation rather than a function— the 
+answer is not a deterministic function of the inputs. We already mentioned (Footnote 
+39) that nondeterminism is essential when dealing with concurrency. The merge rela- 
+tion illustrates the same essential nondeterminism, from the functional perspective. In 
+Section 4.3, we will look at nondeterminism from yet another point of view. 
+
+
+
+485 
+
+
+
+We began this chapter with the goal of building computational mod- 
+els whose structure matches our perception of the real world we are 
+trying to model. We can model the world as a collection of separate, 
+time-bound, interacting objects with state, or we can model the world 
+as a single, timeless, stateless unity. Each view has powerful advantages, 
+but neither view alone is completely satisfactory. A grand unification 
+has yet to emerge. 76 
+
+
+
+The object model approximates the world by dividing it into separate pieces. The 
+functional model does not modularize along object boundaries. The object model is 
+useful when the unshared state of the "objects" is much larger than the state that they 
+share. An example of a place where the object viewpoint fails is quantum mechanics, 
+where thinking of things as individual particles leads to paradoxes and confusions. Uni- 
+fying the object view with the functional view may have little to do with programming, 
+but rather with fundamental epistemological issues. 
+
+
+
+486 
+
+
+
+
+Metalinguistic Abstraction 
+
+
+
+. . . It's in words that the magic is— Abracadabra, Open Sesame, 
+and the rest— but the magic words in one story aren't magi- 
+cal in the next. The real magic is to understand which words 
+work, and when, and for what; the trick is to learn the trick. 
+
+. . . And those words are made from the letters of our alpha- 
+bet: a couple-dozen squiggles we can draw with the pen. 
+This is the key! And the treasure, too, if we can only get 
+our hands on it! It's as if— as if the key to the treasure is the 
+treasure! 
+
+—John Barth, Chimera 
+
+In our study of program design, we have seen that expert program- 
+mers control the complexity of their designs with the same general 
+techniques used by designers of all complex systems. They combine 
+primitive elements to form compound objects, they abstract compound 
+
+
+
+487 
+
+
+
+objects to form higher-level building blocks, and they preserve modu- 
+larity by adopting appropriate large-scale views of system structure. In 
+illustrating these techniques, we have used Lisp as a language for de- 
+scribing processes and for constructing computational data objects and 
+processes to model complex phenomena in the real world. However, as 
+we confront increasingly complex problems, we will find that Lisp, or 
+indeed any fixed programming language, is not sufficient for our needs. 
+We must constantly turn to new languages in order to express our ideas 
+more effectively. Establishing new languages is a powerful strategy for 
+controlling complexity in engineering design; we can often enhance our 
+ability to deal with a complex problem by adopting a new language that 
+enables us to describe (and hence to think about) the problem in a dif- 
+ferent way, using primitives, means of combination, and means of ab- 
+straction that are particularly well suited to the problem at hand. 1 
+
+Programming is endowed with a multitude of languages. There are 
+
+1 The same idea is pervasive throughout all of engineering. For example, electri- 
+cal engineers use many different languages for describing circuits. Two of these are 
+the language of electrical networks and the language of electrical systems. The network 
+language emphasizes the physical modeling of devices in terms of discrete electrical el- 
+ements. The primitive objects of the network language are primitive electrical compo- 
+nents such as resistors, capacitors, inductors, and transistors, which are characterized 
+in terms of physical variables called voltage and current. When describing circuits in 
+the network language, the engineer is concerned with the physical characteristics of a 
+design. In contrast, the primitive objects of the system language are signal-processing 
+modules such as filters and amplifiers. Only the functional behavior of the modules is 
+relevant, and signals are manipulated without concern for their physical realization as 
+voltages and currents. The system language is erected on the network language, in the 
+sense that the elements of signal-processing systems are constructed from electrical 
+networks. Here, however, the concerns are with the large-scale organization of elec- 
+trical devices to solve a given application problem; the physical feasibility of the parts 
+is assumed. This layered collection of languages is another example of the stratified 
+design technique illustrated by the picture language of Section 2.2.4. 
+
+
+
+488 
+
+
+
+physical languages, such as the machine languages for particular com- 
+puters. These languages are concerned with the representation of data 
+and control in terms of individual bits of storage and primitive machine 
+instructions. The machine -language programmer is concerned with us- 
+ing the given hardware to erect systems and utilities for the efficient im- 
+plementation of resource-limited computations. High-level languages, 
+erected on a machine-language substrate, hide concerns about the rep- 
+resentation of data as collections of bits and the representation of pro- 
+grams as sequences of primitive instructions. These languages have means 
+of combination and abstraction, such as procedure definition, that are 
+appropriate to the larger-scale organization of systems. 
+
+Metalinguistic abstraction— establishing new languages— plays an im- 
+portant role in all branches of engineering design. It is particularly im- 
+portant to computer programming, because in programming not only 
+can we formulate new languages but we can also implement these lan- 
+guages by constructing evaluators. An evaluator (or interpreter) for a 
+programming language is a procedure that, when applied to an expres- 
+sion of the language, performs the actions required to evaluate that ex- 
+pression. 
+
+It is no exaggeration to regard this as the most fundamental idea in 
+programming: 
+
+The evaluator, which determines the meaning of expres- 
+sions in a programming language, is just another program. 
+
+To appreciate this point is to change our images of ourselves as pro- 
+grammers. We come to see ourselves as designers of languages, rather 
+than only users of languages designed by others. 
+
+In fact, we can regard almost any program as the evaluator for some 
+language. For instance, the polynomial manipulation system of Section 
+
+
+
+489 
+
+
+
+2.5.3 embodies the rules of polynomial arithmetic and implements them 
+in terms of operations on list-structured data. If we augment this system 
+with procedures to read and print polynomial expressions, we have the 
+core of a special-purpose language for dealing with problems in sym- 
+bolic mathematics. The digital-logic simulator of Section 3.3.4 and the 
+constraint propagator of Section 3.3.5 are legitimate languages in their 
+own right, each with its own primitives, means of combination, and 
+means of abstraction. Seen from this perspective, the technology for 
+coping with large-scale computer systems merges with the technology 
+for building new computer languages, and computer science itself be- 
+comes no more (and no less) than the discipline of constructing appro- 
+priate descriptive languages. 
+
+We now embark on a tour of the technology by which languages are 
+established in terms of other languages. In this chapter we shall use Lisp 
+as a base, implementing evaluators as Lisp procedures. Lisp is particu- 
+larly well suited to this task, because of its ability to represent and ma- 
+nipulate symbolic expressions. We will take the first step in understand- 
+ing how languages are implemented by building an evaluator for Lisp 
+itself. The language implemented by our evaluator will be a subset of the 
+Scheme dialect of Lisp that we use in this book. Although the evaluator 
+described in this chapter is written for a particular dialect of Lisp, it con- 
+tains the essential structure of an evaluator for any expression-oriented 
+language designed for writing programs for a sequential machine. (In 
+fact, most language processors contain, deep within them, a little "Lisp" 
+evaluator.) The evaluator has been simplified for the purposes of illus- 
+tration and discussion, and some features have been left out that would 
+be important to include in a production-quality Lisp system. Neverthe- 
+less, this simple evaluator is adequate to execute most of the programs 
+
+
+
+490 
+
+
+
+in this book. 2 
+
+An important advantage of making the evaluator accessible as a 
+Lisp program is that we can implement alternative evaluation rules by 
+describing these as modifications to the evaluator program. One place 
+where we can use this power to good effect is to gain extra control over 
+the ways in which computational models embody the notion of time, 
+which was so central to the discussion in Chapter 3. There, we mitigated 
+some of the complexities of state and assignment by using streams to 
+decouple the representation of time in the world from time in the com- 
+puter. Our stream programs, however, were sometimes cumbersome, 
+because they were constrained by the applicative-order evaluation of 
+Scheme. In Section 4.2, we'll change the underlying language to provide 
+for a more elegant approach, by modifying the evaluator to provide for 
+normal-order evaluation. 
+
+Section 4.3 implements a more ambitious linguistic change, whereby 
+expressions have many values, rather than just a single value. In this 
+language of nondeterministic computing, it is natural to express processes 
+that generate all possible values for expressions and then search for 
+those values that satisfy certain constraints. In terms of models of com- 
+putation and time, this is like having time branch into a set of "possible 
+futures" and then searching for appropriate time lines. With our nonde- 
+terministic evaluator, keeping track of multiple values and performing 
+searches are handled automatically by the underlying mechanism of the 
+language. 
+
+In Section 4.4 we implement a logic-programming language in which 
+
+2 The most important features that our evaluator leaves out are mechanisms for han- 
+dling errors and supporting debugging. For a more extensive discussion of evaluators, 
+see Friedman et al. 1992, which gives an exposition of programming languages that 
+proceeds via a sequence of evaluators written in Scheme. 
+
+
+
+491 
+
+
+
+knowledge is expressed in terms of relations, rather than in terms of 
+computations with inputs and outputs. Even though this makes the lan- 
+guage drastically different from Lisp, or indeed from any conventional 
+language, we will see that the logic -programming evaluator shares the 
+essential structure of the Lisp evaluator. 
+
+4.1 The Metacircular Evaluator 
+
+Our evaluator for Lisp will be implemented as a Lisp program. It may 
+seem circular to think about evaluating Lisp programs using an evalua- 
+tor that is itself implemented in Lisp. However, evaluation is a process, 
+so it is appropriate to describe the evaluation process using Lisp, which, 
+after all, is our tool for describing processes. 3 An evaluator that is writ- 
+ten in the same language that it evaluates is said to be metacircular. 
+
+The metacircular evaluator is essentially a Scheme formulation of 
+the environment model of evaluation described in Section 3.2. Recall 
+that the model has two basic parts: 
+
+1. To evaluate a combination (a compound expression other than 
+a special form), evaluate the subexpressions and then apply the 
+value of the operator subexpression to the values of the operand 
+subexpressions. 
+
+2. To apply a compound procedure to a set of arguments, evaluate 
+the body of the procedure in a new environment. To construct 
+
+3 Even so, there will remain important aspects of the evaluation process that are not 
+elucidated by our evaluator. The most important of these are the detailed mechanisms 
+by which procedures call other procedures and return values to their callers. We will 
+address these issues in Chapter 5, where we take a closer look at the evaluation process 
+by implementing the evaluator as a simple register machine. 
+
+
+
+492 
+
+
+
+this environment, extend the environment part of the procedure 
+object by a frame in which the formal parameters of the procedure 
+are bound to the arguments to which the procedure is applied. 
+
+These two rules describe the essence of the evaluation process, a basic 
+cycle in which expressions to be evaluated in environments are reduced 
+to procedures to be applied to arguments, which in turn are reduced to 
+new expressions to be evaluated in new environments, and so on, un- 
+til we get down to symbols, whose values are looked up in the envi- 
+ronment, and to primitive procedures, which are applied directly (see 
+Figure 4.1). 4 This evaluation cycle will be embodied by the interplay 
+between the two critical procedures in the evaluator, eval and apply, 
+which are described in Section 4.1.1 (see Figure 4.1). 
+
+The implementation of the evaluator will depend upon procedures 
+
+4 If we grant ourselves the ability to apply primitives, then what remains for us to 
+implement in the evaluator? The job of the evaluator is not to specify the primitives of 
+the language, but rather to provide the connective tissue— the means of combination 
+and the means of abstraction— that binds a collection of primitives to form a language. 
+Specifically: 
+
+• The evaluator enables us to deal with nested expressions. For example, although 
+simply applying primitives would suffice for evaluating the expression (+ 1 6) , it is not 
+adequate for handling (+ 1 (* 2 3 )). As far as the primitive procedure + is concerned, 
+its arguments must be numbers, and it would choke if we passed it the expression (* 
+2 3 ) as an argument. One important role of the evaluator is to choreograph procedure 
+composition so that (* 2 3) is reduced to 6 before being passed as an argument to +. 
+
+• The evaluator allows us to use variables. For example, the primitive procedure for 
+addition has no way to deal with expressions such as (+ x 1 ) . We need an evaluator to 
+keep track of variables and obtain their values before invoking the primitive procedures. 
+
+• The evaluator allows us to define compound procedures. This involves keeping 
+track of procedure definitions, knowing how to use these definitions in evaluating ex- 
+pressions, and providing a mechanism that enables procedures to accept arguments. 
+
+• The evaluator provides the special forms, which must be evaluated differently from 
+procedure calls. 
+
+
+
+493 
+
+
+
+
+that define the syntax of the expressions to be evaluated. We will use 
+data abstraction to make the evaluator independent of the representa- 
+tion of the language. For example, rather than committing to a choice 
+that an assignment is to be represented by a list beginning with the 
+symbol set! we use an abstract predicate assignment? to test for an 
+assignment, and we use abstract selectors assignment-variable and 
+assignment-value to access the parts of an assignment. Implementa- 
+tion of expressions will be described in detail in Section 4.1.2. There are 
+also operations, described in Section 4.1.3, that specify the represen- 
+tation of procedures and environments. For example, make-procedure 
+constructs compound procedures, lookup- variable- value accesses the 
+values of variables, and apply-primitive-procedure applies a primi- 
+tive procedure to a given list of arguments. 
+
+
+
+494 
+
+
+
+4.1.1 The Core of the Evaluator 
+
+The evaluation process can be described as the interplay between two 
+procedures: eval and apply. 
+
+Eval 
+
+Eval takes as arguments an expression and an environment. It classi- 
+fies the expression and directs its evaluation. Eval is structured as a case 
+analysis of the syntactic type of the expression to be evaluated. In or- 
+der to keep the procedure general, we express the determination of the 
+type of an expression abstractly making no commitment to any partic- 
+ular representation for the various types of expressions. Each type of 
+expression has a predicate that tests for it and an abstract means for 
+selecting its parts. This abstract syntax makes it easy to see how we can 
+change the syntax of the language by using the same evaluator, but with 
+a different collection of syntax procedures. 
+
+Primitive expressions 
+
+• For self-evaluating expressions, such as numbers, eval returns 
+the expression itself. 
+
+• Eval must look up variables in the environment to find their val- 
+ues. 
+
+Special forms 
+
+• For quoted expressions, eval returns the expression that was quoted. 
+
+• An assignment to (or a definition of) a variable must recursively 
+call eval to compute the new value to be associated with the vari- 
+able. The environment must be modified to change (or create) the 
+binding of the variable. 
+
+
+
+495 
+
+
+
+• An if expression requires special processing of its parts, so as to 
+evaluate the consequent if the predicate is true, and otherwise to 
+evaluate the alternative. 
+
+• A lambda expression must be transformed into an applicable pro- 
+cedure by packaging together the parameters and body specified 
+by the lambda expression with the environment of the evaluation. 
+
+• A begin expression requires evaluating its sequence of expres- 
+sions in the order in which they appear. 
+
+• A case analysis (cond) is transformed into a nest of if expressions 
+and then evaluated. 
+
+Combinations 
+
+• For a procedure application, eval must recursively evaluate the 
+operator part and the operands of the combination. The resulting 
+procedure and arguments are passed to apply, which handles the 
+actual procedure application. 
+
+Here is the definition of eval: 
+
+(define (eval exp env) 
+
+(cond ((self-evaluating? exp) exp) 
+
+((variable? exp) (lookup-variable-value exp env)) 
+((quoted? exp) (text-of-quotation exp)) 
+((assignment? exp) (eval-assignment exp env)) 
+((definition? exp) (eval-def inition exp env)) 
+((if? exp) (eval-if exp env)) 
+
+((lambda? exp) (make-procedure (lambda-parameters exp) 
+
+(lambda-body exp) 
+env)) 
+
+
+
+496 
+
+
+
+((begin? exp) 
+
+(eval-sequence (begin-actions exp) env)) 
+((cond? exp) (eval (cond->if exp) env)) 
+((application? exp) 
+
+(apply (eval (operator exp) env) 
+
+(list-of-values (operands exp) env))) 
+
+(else 
+
+(error "Unknown expression type: EVAL" exp)))) 
+
+For clarity, eval has been implemented as a case analysis using cond. 
+The disadvantage of this is that our procedure handles only a few distin- 
+guishable types of expressions, and no new ones can be defined without 
+editing the definition of eval. In most Lisp implementations, dispatch- 
+ing on the type of an expression is done in a data-directed style. This 
+allows a user to add new types of expressions that eval can distinguish, 
+without modifying the definition of eval itself. (See Exercise 4.3.) 
+
+Apply 
+
+Apply takes two arguments, a procedure and a list of arguments to 
+which the procedure should be applied. Apply classifies procedures into 
+two kinds: It calls apply-primitive-procedure to apply primitives; it 
+applies compound procedures by sequentially evaluating the expres- 
+sions that make up the body of the procedure. The environment for 
+the evaluation of the body of a compound procedure is constructed by 
+extending the base environment carried by the procedure to include a 
+frame that binds the parameters of the procedure to the arguments to 
+which the procedure is to be applied. Here is the definition of apply: 
+
+(define (apply procedure arguments) 
+
+(cond ((primitive-procedure? procedure) 
+
+(apply-primitive-procedure procedure arguments)) 
+
+
+
+497 
+
+
+
+((compound-procedure? procedure) 
+(eval-sequence 
+
+(procedure-body procedure) 
+(extend-environment 
+
+(procedure-parameters procedure) 
+arguments 
+
+(procedure-environment procedure)))) 
+
+(else 
+
+(error 
+
+"Unknown procedure type: APPLY" procedure)))) 
+Procedure arguments 
+
+When eval processes a procedure application, it uses list-of-values 
+to produce the list of arguments to which the procedure is to be applied. 
+List-of-values takes as an argument the operands of the combina- 
+tion. It evaluates each operand and returns a list of the corresponding 
+values: 5 
+
+(define (list-of-values exps env) 
+(if (no-operands? exps) 
+
+■o 
+
+(cons (eval (first-operand exps) env) 
+
+(list-of-values (rest-operands exps) env)))) 
+
+
+
+5 We could have simplified the application? clause in eval by using map (and stip- 
+ulating that operands returns a list) rather than writing an explicit list-of-values 
+procedure. We chose not to use map here to emphasize the fact that the evaluator can 
+be implemented without any use of higher-order procedures (and thus could be writ- 
+ten in a language that doesn't have higher-order procedures), even though the language 
+that it supports will include higher-order procedures. 
+
+
+
+498 
+
+
+
+Conditionals 
+
+Eval-if evaluates the predicate part of an if expression in the given 
+environment. If the result is true, eval-if evaluates the consequent, 
+otherwise it evaluates the alternative: 
+
+(define (eval-if exp env) 
+
+(if (true? (eval (if-predicate exp) env)) 
+(eval (if-consequent exp) env) 
+(eval (if-alternative exp) env))) 
+
+The use of true? in eval-if highlights the issue of the connection be- 
+tween an implemented language and an implementation language. The 
+if-predicate is evaluated in the language being implemented and thus 
+yields a value in that language. The interpreter predicate true? trans- 
+lates that value into a value that can be tested by the if in the imple- 
+mentation language: The metacircular representation of truth might not 
+be the same as that of the underlying Scheme. 6 
+
+Sequences 
+
+Eval-sequence is used by apply to evaluate the sequence of expressions 
+in a procedure body and by eval to evaluate the sequence of expressions 
+in a begin expression. It takes as arguments a sequence of expressions 
+and an environment, and evaluates the expressions in the order in which 
+they occur. The value returned is the value of the final expression. 
+
+(define (eval-sequence exps env) 
+(cond ((last-exp? exps) 
+
+(eval (first-exp exps) env)) 
+
+6 In this case, the language being implemented and the implementation language are 
+the same. Contemplation of the meaning of true? here yields expansion of conscious- 
+ness without the abuse of substance. 
+
+
+
+499 
+
+
+
+(else 
+
+(eval (first-exp exps) env) 
+(eval-sequence (rest-exps exps) env)))) 
+
+Assignments and definitions 
+
+The following procedure handles assignments to variables. It calls eval 
+to find the value to be assigned and transmits the variable and the re- 
+sulting value to set-variable-value ! to be installed in the designated 
+environment. 
+
+(define (eval-assignment exp env) 
+
+(set-variable-value! (assignment-variable exp) 
+
+(eval (assignment-value exp) env) 
+env) 
+
+'ok) 
+
+Definitions of variables are handled in a similar manner. 7 
+
+(define (eval-def inition exp env) 
+
+(def ine-variable! (definition-variable exp) 
+
+(eval (definition-value exp) env) 
+env) 
+
+'ok) 
+
+We have chosen here to return the symbol ok as the value of an assign- 
+ment or a definition. 8 
+
+Exercise 4.T : Notice that we cannot tell whether the metacir- 
+cular evaluator evaluates operands from left to right or from 
+
+7 This implementation of define ignores a subtle issue in the handling of internal 
+definitions, although it works correctly in most cases. We will see what the problem is 
+and how to solve it in Section 4.1.6. 
+
+8 As we said when we introduced def i ne and set ! , these values are implementation- 
+dependent in Scheme— that is, the implementor can choose what value to return. 
+
+
+
+500 
+
+
+
+right to left. Its evaluation order is inherited from the un- 
+derlying Lisp: If the arguments to cons in list-of-values 
+are evaluated from left to right, then list-of-values will 
+evaluate operands from left to right; and if the arguments to 
+cons are evaluated from right to left, then list-of-values 
+will evaluate operands from right to left. 
+
+Write a version of list-of-values that evaluates operands 
+from left to right regardless of the order of evaluation in the 
+underlying Lisp. Also write a version of list-of-values 
+that evaluates operands from right to left. 
+
+4.1.2 Representing Expressions 
+
+The evaluator is reminiscent of the symbolic differentiation program 
+discussed in Section 2.3.2. Both programs operate on symbolic expres- 
+sions. In both programs, the result of operating on a compound expres- 
+sion is determined by operating recursively on the pieces of the expres- 
+sion and combining the results in a way that depends on the type of 
+the expression. In both programs we used data abstraction to decouple 
+the general rules of operation from the details of how expressions are 
+represented. In the differentiation program this meant that the same 
+differentiation procedure could deal with algebraic expressions in pre- 
+fix form, in infix form, or in some other form. For the evaluator, this 
+means that the syntax of the language being evaluated is determined 
+solely by the procedures that classify and extract pieces of expressions. 
+Here is the specification of the syntax of our language: 
+
+• The only self-evaluating items are numbers and strings: 
+
+(define (self-evaluating? exp) 
+(cond ((number? exp) true) 
+
+
+
+501 
+
+
+
+((string? exp) true) 
+(else false))) 
+
+• Variables are represented by symbols: 
+(define (variable? exp) (symbol? exp)) 
+
+• Quotations have the form (quote (text-of-quotation)): 9 
+
+(define (quoted? exp) (tagged-list? exp 'quote)) 
+(define (text-of-quotation exp) (cadr exp)) 
+
+Quoted? is define d in terms of the pro ce dure tagged-list?, which 
+identifies lists beginning with a designated symbol: 
+
+(define (tagged-list? exp tag) 
+(if (pair? exp) 
+
+(eq? (car exp) tag) 
+false)) 
+
+• Assignments have the form (set ! (var) (value)): 
+
+(define (assignment? exp) (tagged-list? exp 'set!)) 
+(define (assignment-variable exp) (cadr exp)) 
+(define (assignment-value exp) (caddr exp)) 
+
+• Definitions have the form 
+(define {var) (value)) 
+
+or the form 
+
+9 As mentioned in Section 2.3.1, the evaluator sees a quoted expression as a list begin- 
+ning with quote, even if the expression is typed with the quotation mark. For example, 
+the expression ' a would be seen by the evaluator as (quote a) . See Exercise 2.55. 
+
+
+
+502 
+
+
+
+(define {{var) {parameter^} ... {parameter n }) 
+(body)) 
+
+The latter form (standard procedure definition) is syntactic sugar 
+for 
+
+(define (var) 
+
+(lambda {{parameter]) . . . {parameter n )) 
+{body))) 
+
+The corresponding syntax procedures are the following: 
+
+(define (definition? exp) (tagged-list? exp 'define)) 
+(define (definition-variable exp) 
+(if (symbol? (cadr exp)) 
+(cadr exp) 
+(caadr exp))) 
+(define (definition-value exp) 
+(if (symbol? (cadr exp)) 
+(caddr exp) 
+
+(make-lambda (cdadr exp) ; formal parameters 
+(cddr exp)))) ; body 
+
+• Lambda expressions are lists that begin with the symbol lambda: 
+
+(define (lambda? exp) (tagged-list? exp 'lambda)) 
+(define (lambda-parameters exp) (cadr exp)) 
+(define (lambda-body exp) (cddr exp)) 
+
+We also provide a constructor for lambda expressions, which is 
+used by definition-value, above: 
+
+(define (make-lambda parameters body) 
+(cons 'lambda (cons parameters body))) 
+
+
+
+503 
+
+
+
+• Conditionals begin with if and have a predicate, a consequent, 
+and an (optional) alternative. If the expression has no alternative 
+part, we provide false as the alternative. 10 
+
+(define (if? exp) (tagged-list? exp 'if)) 
+(define (if-predicate exp) (cadr exp)) 
+(define (if-consequent exp) (caddr exp)) 
+(define (if-alternative exp) 
+(if (not (null? (cdddr exp))) 
+
+(cadddr exp) 
+
+'false)) 
+
+We also provide a constructor for if expressions, to be used by 
+cond->if to transform cond expressions into if expressions: 
+
+(define (make-if predicate consequent alternative) 
+(list 'if predicate consequent alternative)) 
+
+• Begin packages a sequence of expressions into a single expres- 
+sion. We include syntax operations on begin expressions to ex- 
+tract the actual sequence from the begin expression, as well as 
+selectors that return the first expression and the rest of the ex- 
+pressions in the sequence. 11 
+
+(define (begin? exp) (tagged-list? exp 'begin)) 
+(define (begin-actions exp) (cdr exp)) 
+
+10 The value of an i f expression when the predicate is false and there is no alternative 
+is unspecified in Scheme; we have chosen here to make it false. We will support the use 
+of the variables true and false in expressions to be evaluated by binding them in the 
+global environment. See Section 4.1.4. 
+
+11 These selectors for a list of expressions— and the corresponding ones for a list of 
+operands— are not intended as a data abstraction. They are introduced as mnemonic 
+names for the basic list operations in order to make it easier to understand the explicit- 
+control evaluator in Section 5.4. 
+
+
+
+504 
+
+
+
+(define (last-exp? seq) (null? (cdr seq))) 
+(define (first-exp seq) (car seq)) 
+(define (rest-exps seq) (cdr seq)) 
+
+We also include a constructor sequence->exp (for use by cond- 
+>if) that transforms a sequence into a single expression, using 
+begin if necessary: 
+
+(define (sequence->exp seq) 
+(cond ((null? seq) seq) 
+
+((last-exp? seq) (first-exp seq)) 
+
+(else (make-begin seq)))) 
+(define (make-begin seq) (cons 'begin seq)) 
+
+• A procedure application is any compound expression that is not 
+one of the above expression types. The car of the expression is 
+the operator, and the cdr is the list of operands: 
+
+(define (application? exp) (pair? exp)) 
+(define (operator exp) (car exp)) 
+(define (operands exp) (cdr exp)) 
+(define (no-operands? ops) (null? ops)) 
+(define (first-operand ops) (car ops)) 
+(define (rest-operands ops) (cdr ops)) 
+
+
+
+Derived expressions 
+
+Some special forms in our language can be defined in terms of expres- 
+sions involving other special forms, rather than being implemented di- 
+rectly. One example is cond, which can be implemented as a nest of if 
+expressions. For example, we can reduce the problem of evaluating the 
+expression 
+
+
+
+505 
+
+
+
+(cond ((> x 0) x) 
+
+((= x 0) (display 'zero) 0) 
+(else (- x))) 
+
+to the problem of evaluating the following expression involving if and 
+begin expressions: 
+
+(if (> x 0) 
+x 
+
+(if (= x 0) 
+
+(begin (display 'zero) 0) 
+(- x))) 
+
+Implementing the evaluation of cond in this way simplifies the evalua- 
+tor because it reduces the number of special forms for which the evalu- 
+ation process must be explicitly specified. 
+
+We include syntax procedures that extract the parts of a cond ex- 
+pression, and a procedure cond->if that transforms cond expressions 
+into if expressions. A case analysis begins with cond and has a list of 
+predicate-action clauses. A clause is an else clause if its predicate is the 
+symbol else. 12 
+
+(define (cond? exp) (tagged-list? exp 'cond)) 
+(define (cond-clauses exp) (cdr exp)) 
+(define (cond-else-clause? clause) 
+
+(eq? (cond-predicate clause) 'else)) 
+(define (cond-predicate clause) (car clause)) 
+(define (cond-actions clause) (cdr clause)) 
+(define (cond->if exp) (expand-clauses (cond-clauses exp))) 
+(define (expand-clauses clauses) 
+
+(if (null? clauses) 
+
+'false ; no else clause 
+
+12 The value of a cond expression when all the predicates are false and there is no 
+else clause is unspecified in Scheme; we have chosen here to make it false. 
+
+
+
+506 
+
+
+
+(let ((first (car clauses)) 
+(rest (cdr clauses))) 
+(if (cond-else-clause? first) 
+(if (null? rest) 
+
+(sequence->exp (cond-actions first)) 
+(error "ELSE clause isn't last: COND->IF" 
+clauses)) 
+(make-if (cond-predicate first) 
+
+(sequence->exp (cond-actions first)) 
+(expand-clauses rest)))))) 
+
+Expressions (such as cond) that we choose to implement as syntactic 
+transformations are called derived expressions. Let expressions are also 
+derived expressions (see Exercise 4. 6). 13 
+
+Exercise 4.2: Louis Reasoner plans to reorder the cond clauses 
+in eval so that the clause for procedure applications ap- 
+pears before the clause for assignments. He argues that this 
+will make the interpreter more efficient: Since programs 
+usually contain more applications than assignments, def- 
+initions, and so on, his modified eval will usually check 
+fewer clauses than the original eval before identifying the 
+type of an expression. 
+
+a. What is wrong with Louis's plan? (Hint: What will 
+
+13 Practical Lisp systems provide a mechanism that allows a user to add new de- 
+rived expressions and specify their implementation as syntactic transformations with- 
+out modifying the evaluator. Such a user-defined transformation is called a macro. Al- 
+though it is easy to add an elementary mechanism for defining macros, the result- 
+ing language has subtle name-conflict problems. There has been much research on 
+mechanisms for macro definition that do not cause these difficulties. See, for example, 
+Kohlbecker 1986, dinger and Rees 1991, and Hanson 1991. 
+
+
+
+507 
+
+
+
+Louis's evaluator do with the expression (define x 
+3)?) 
+
+b. Louis is upset that his plan didn't work. He is will- 
+ing to go to any lengths to make his evaluator recog- 
+nize procedure applications before it checks for most 
+other kinds of expressions. Help him by changing the 
+syntax of the evaluated language so that procedure 
+applications start with call. For example, instead of 
+(factorial 3) we will now have to write (call factorial 
+3) and instead of (+ 1 2) we will have to write (call 
++ 1 2). 
+
+Exercise 4.3: Rewrite eval so that the dispatch is done 
+in data-directed style. Compare this with the data-directed 
+differentiation procedure of Exercise 2.73. (You may use the 
+car of a compound expression as the type of the expres- 
+sion, as is appropriate for the syntax implemented in this 
+section.) 
+
+Exercise 4.4: Recall the definitions of the special forms and 
+and or from Chapter 1: 
+
+• and: The expressions are evaluated from left to right. 
+If any expression evaluates to false, false is returned; 
+any remaining expressions are not evaluated. If all the 
+expressions evaluate to true values, the value of the 
+last expression is returned. If there are no expressions 
+then true is returned. 
+
+• or: The expressions are evaluated from left to right. 
+If any expression evaluates to a true value, that value 
+
+
+
+508 
+
+
+
+is returned; any remaining expressions are not evalu- 
+ated. If all expressions evaluate to false, or if there are 
+no expressions, then false is returned. 
+
+Install and and or as new special forms for the evaluator by 
+defining appropriate syntax procedures and evaluation pro- 
+cedures eval-and and eval-or. Alternatively, show how to 
+implement and and or as derived expressions. 
+
+Exercise 4.5: Scheme allows an additional syntax for cond 
+clauses, ((test) => (recipient)). If (test) evaluates to a 
+true value, then (recipient) is evaluated. Its value must be a 
+procedure of one argument; this procedure is then invoked 
+on the value of the (test), and the result is returned as the 
+value of the cond expression. For example 
+
+(cond ((assoc 'b '((a 1) (b 2))) => cadr) 
+(else false)) 
+
+returns 2. Modify the handling of cond so that it supports 
+this extended syntax. 
+
+Exercise 4.6: Let expressions are derived expressions, be- 
+cause 
+
+(let (((vari) (expi)) ... ((var n ) (exp n ))) 
+(body)) 
+
+is equivalent to 
+
+((lambda ((var^) ... (var n )) 
+
+(body)) 
+(expi) 
+
+(exp n )) 
+
+
+
+509 
+
+
+
+Implement a syntactic transformation let->combination 
+that reduces evaluating let expressions to evaluating com- 
+binations of the type shown above, and add the appropriate 
+clause to eval to handle let expressions. 
+
+Exercise 4.7: Let* is similar to let, except that the bind- 
+ings of the let* variables are performed sequentially from 
+left to right, and each binding is made in an environment in 
+which all of the preceding bindings are visible. For example 
+
+(let* ((x 3) (y (+ x 2)) (z (+ x y 5))) 
+(* x z)) 
+
+returns 39. Explain how a let* expression can be rewritten 
+as a set of nested let expressions, and write a procedure 
+let*->nested-lets that performs this transformation. If 
+we have already implemented let (Exercise 4.6) and we 
+want to extend the evaluator to handle let*, is it sufficient 
+to add a clause to eval whose action is 
+
+(eval (let*->nested-lets exp) env) 
+
+or must we explicitly expand let* in terms of non-derived 
+expressions? 
+
+Exercise 4.8: "Named let" is a variant of let that has the 
+form 
+
+(let (var) {bindings} (body)) 
+
+The (bindings) and (body) are just as in ordinary let, ex- 
+cept that (var ) is bound within (body) to a procedure whose 
+body is (body) and whose parameters are the variables in 
+
+
+
+510 
+
+
+
+the (bindings). Thus, one can repeatedly execute the (body) 
+by invoking the procedure named (var). For example, the 
+iterative Fibonacci procedure (Section 1.2.2) can be rewrit- 
+ten using named let as follows: 
+
+(define (fib n) 
+
+(let fib-iter ((a 1) 
+(b 0) 
+
+(count n)) 
+(if (= count 0) 
+b 
+
+(fib-iter (+ a b) a (- count 1))))) 
+
+Modify let->combination of Exercise 4.6 to also support 
+named let. 
+
+Exercise 4.9: Many languages support a variety of iteration 
+constructs, such as do, for, while, and until. In Scheme, 
+iterative processes can be expressed in terms of ordinary 
+procedure calls, so special iteration constructs provide no 
+essential gain in computational power. On the other hand, 
+such constructs are often convenient. Design some itera- 
+tion constructs, give examples of their use, and show how 
+to implement them as derived expressions. 
+
+Exercise 4. TO: By using data abstraction, we were able to 
+write an eval procedure that is independent of the particu- 
+lar syntax of the language to be evaluated. To illustrate this, 
+design and implement a new syntax for Scheme by modify- 
+ing the procedures in this section, without changing eval 
+or apply. 
+
+
+
+511 
+
+
+
+4.1.3 Evaluator Data Structures 
+
+In addition to defining the external syntax of expressions, the evaluator 
+implementation must also define the data structures that the evaluator 
+manipulates internally, as part of the execution of a program, such as the 
+representation of procedures and environments and the representation 
+of true and false. 
+
+Testing of predicates 
+
+For conditionals, we accept anything to be true that is not the explicit 
+false object. 
+
+(define (true? x) (not (eq? x false))) 
+(define (false? x) (eq? x false)) 
+
+Representing procedures 
+
+To handle primitives, we assume that we have available the following 
+procedures: 
+
+• (apply-primitive-procedure (proc) (args)) 
+
+applies the given primitive procedure to the argument values in 
+the list (args) and returns the result of the application. 
+
+• (primitive-procedure? (proc)) 
+
+tests whether (proc) is a primitive procedure. 
+
+These mechanisms for handling primitives are further described in Sec- 
+tion 4.1.4. 
+
+Compound procedures are constructed from parameters, procedure 
+bodies, and environments using the constructor make-procedure: 
+
+
+
+512 
+
+
+
+(define (make-procedure parameters body env) 
+
+(list 'procedure parameters body env)) 
+
+(define (compound-procedure? p) 
+
+(tagged-list? p 'procedure)) 
+
+(define (procedure-parameters p) (cadr p)) 
+
+(define (procedure-body p) (caddr p)) 
+
+(define (procedure-environment p) (cadddr p)) 
+
+Operations on Environments 
+
+The evaluator needs operations for manipulating environments. As ex- 
+plained in Section 3.2, an environment is a sequence of frames, where 
+each frame is a table of bindings that associate variables with their cor- 
+responding values. We use the following operations for manipulating 
+environments: 
+
+• (lookup-variable-value (var) (env)) 
+
+returns the value that is bound to the symbol (var) in the envi- 
+ronment (env), or signals an error if the variable is unbound. 
+
+• (extend-environment (variables) (values) (base-env)) 
+
+returns a new environment, consisting of a new frame in which 
+the symbols in the list (variables) are bound to the corresponding 
+elements in the list (values), where the enclosing environment is 
+the environment (base-env). 
+
+• (def ine-variable ! (var) (value) (env)) 
+
+adds to the first frame in the environment (env) a new binding 
+that associates the variable (var) with the value (value). 
+
+
+
+513 
+
+
+
+• (set-variable-value! (var) (value) (env)) 
+
+changes the binding of the variable (var) in the environment (env) 
+so that the variable is now bound to the value (value), or signals 
+an error if the variable is unbound. 
+
+To implement these operations we represent an environment as a list of 
+frames. The enclosing environment of an environment is the cdr of the 
+list. The empty environment is simply the empty list. 
+
+(define (enclosing-environment env) (cdr env)) 
+(define (first-frame env) (car env)) 
+(define the-empty-environment '()) 
+
+Each frame of an environment is represented as a pair of lists: a list of 
+the variables bound in that frame and a list of the associated values. 14 
+
+(define (make-frame variables values) 
+
+(cons variables values)) 
+(define (frame-variables frame) (car frame)) 
+(define (frame-values frame) (cdr frame)) 
+(define (add-binding-to-f rame ! var val frame) 
+
+(set-car! frame (cons var (car frame))) 
+
+(set-cdr! frame (cons val (cdr frame)))) 
+
+To extend an environment by a new frame that associates variables with 
+values, we make a frame consisting of the list of variables and the list 
+of values, and we adjoin this to the environment. We signal an error if 
+the number of variables does not match the number of values. 
+
+14 Frames are not really a data abstraction in the following code: Set-variable- 
+value! and def ine-variable ! use set-car! to directly modify the values in a frame. 
+The purpose of the frame procedures is to make the environment-manipulation proce- 
+dures easy to read. 
+
+
+
+514 
+
+
+
+(define (extend-environment vars vals base-env) 
+(if (= (length vars) (length vals)) 
+
+(cons (make-frame vars vals) base-env) 
+(if (< (length vars) (length vals)) 
+
+(error "Too many arguments supplied" vars vals) 
+(error "Too few arguments supplied" vars vals)))) 
+
+To look up a variable in an environment, we scan the list of variables 
+in the first frame. If we find the desired variable, we return the corre- 
+sponding element in the list of values. If we do not find the variable 
+in the current frame, we search the enclosing environment, and so on. 
+If we reach the empty environment, we signal an "unbound variable" 
+error. 
+
+(define (lookup-variable-value var env) 
+(define (env-loop env) 
+(define (scan vars vals) 
+(cond ((null? vars) 
+
+(env-loop (enclosing-environment env))) 
+((eq? var (car vars)) (car vals)) 
+(else (scan (cdr vars) (cdr vals))))) 
+(if (eq? env the-empty-environment) 
+(error "Unbound variable" var) 
+(let ((frame (first-frame env))) 
+(scan (frame-variables frame) 
+(frame-values frame))))) 
+(env-loop env)) 
+
+To set a variable to a new value in a specified environment, we scan for 
+the variable, just as in lookup-variable-value, and change the corre- 
+sponding value when we find it. 
+
+(define (set-variable-value! var val env) 
+(define (env-loop env) 
+
+
+
+515 
+
+
+
+(define (scan vars vals) 
+(cond ((null? vars) 
+
+(env-loop (enclosing-environment env))) 
+((eq? var (car vars)) (set-car! vals val)) 
+(else (scan (cdr vars) (cdr vals))))) 
+(if (eq? env the-empty-environment) 
+
+(error "Unbound variable: SET!" var) 
+(let ((frame (first-frame env))) 
+(scan (frame-variables frame) 
+(frame-values frame))))) 
+(env-loop env)) 
+
+To define a variable, we search the first frame for a binding for the 
+variable, and change the binding if it exists (just as in set-variable- 
+value ! ). If no such binding exists, we adjoin one to the first frame. 
+
+(define (def ine-variable ! var val env) 
+(let ((frame (first-frame env))) 
+(define (scan vars vals) 
+(cond ((null? vars) 
+
+(add-binding-to-f rame ! var val frame)) 
+((eq? var (car vars)) (set-car! vals val)) 
+(else (scan (cdr vars) (cdr vals))))) 
+(scan (frame-variables frame) (frame-values frame)))) 
+
+The method described here is only one of many plausible ways to rep- 
+resent environments. Since we used data abstraction to isolate the rest 
+of the evaluator from the detailed choice of representation, we could 
+change the environment representation if we wanted to. (See Exercise 
+4.11.) In a production-quality Lisp system, the speed of the evaluator's 
+environment operations— especially that of variable lookup— has a ma- 
+jor impact on the performance of the system. The representation de- 
+scribed here, although conceptually simple, is not efficient and would 
+
+
+
+516 
+
+
+
+not ordinarily be used in a production system. 15 
+
+Exercise 4.T T : Instead of representing a frame as a pair of 
+lists, we can represent a frame as a list of bindings, where 
+each binding is a name-value pair. Rewrite the environment 
+operations to use this alternative representation. 
+
+Exercise 4. T 2: The procedures set- variable- value !, define - 
+variable ! and lookup-variable-value can be expressed 
+in terms of more abstract procedures for traversing the en- 
+vironment structure. Define abstractions that capture the 
+common patterns and redefine the three procedures in terms 
+of these abstractions. 
+
+Exercise 4.T3: Scheme allows us to create new bindings for 
+variables by means of define, but provides no way to get 
+rid of bindings. Implement for the evaluator a special form 
+make-unbound ! that removes the binding of a given symbol 
+from the environment in which the make-unbound! expres- 
+sion is evaluated. This problem is not completely specified. 
+For example, should we remove only the binding in the first 
+frame of the environment? Complete the specification and 
+justify any choices you make. 
+
+
+
+1 The drawback of this representation (as well as the variant in Exercise 4.11) is that 
+the evaluator may have to search through many frames in order to find the binding for 
+a given variable. (Such an approach is referred to as deep binding.) One way to avoid this 
+inefficiency is to make use of a strategy called lexical addressing, which will be discussed 
+in Section 5.5.6. 
+
+
+
+517 
+
+
+
+4.1.4 Running the Evaluator as a Program 
+
+Given the evaluator, we have in our hands a description (expressed in 
+Lisp) of the process by which Lisp expressions are evaluated. One ad- 
+vantage of expressing the evaluator as a program is that we can run the 
+program. This gives us, running within Lisp, a working model of how 
+Lisp itself evaluates expressions. This can serve as a framework for ex- 
+perimenting with evaluation rules, as we shall do later in this chapter. 
+
+Our evaluator program reduces expressions ultimately to the appli- 
+cation of primitive procedures. Therefore, all that we need to run the 
+evaluator is to create a mechanism that calls on the underlying Lisp 
+system to model the application of primitive procedures. 
+
+There must be a binding for each primitive procedure name, so that 
+when eval evaluates the operator of an application of a primitive, it will 
+find an object to pass to apply. We thus set up a global environment that 
+associates unique objects with the names of the primitive procedures 
+that can appear in the expressions we will be evaluating. The global 
+environment also includes bindings for the symbols true and false, so 
+that they can be used as variables in expressions to be evaluated. 
+
+(define (setup-environment) 
+(let ((initial-env 
+
+(extend-environment (primitive-procedure-names) 
+
+(primitive-procedure-objects) 
+the-empty-environment))) 
+(def ine-variable ! 'true true initial-env) 
+(def ine-variable ! 'false false initial-env) 
+initial-env)) 
+
+(define the-global-environment (setup-environment)) 
+
+It does not matter how we represent the primitive procedure objects, 
+so long as apply can identify and apply them by using the procedures 
+
+
+
+518 
+
+
+
+primitive-procedure? and apply-pr i mi tive -procedure. We have cho- 
+sen to represent a primitive procedure as a list beginning with the sym- 
+bol primitive and containing a procedure in the underlying Lisp that 
+implements that primitive. 
+
+(define (primitive-procedure? proc) 
+
+(tagged-list? proc 'primitive)) 
+(define (primitive-implementation proc) (cadr proc)) 
+
+Setup-environment will get the primitive names and implementation 
+procedures from a list: 16 
+
+(define primitive-procedures 
+(list (list 'car car) 
+(list 'cdr cdr) 
+(list 'cons cons) 
+(list 'null? null?) 
+(more primitives) )) 
+(define (primitive-procedure-names) 
+
+(map car primitive-procedures)) 
+(define (primitive-procedure-objects) 
+
+(map (lambda (proc) (list 'primitive (cadr proc))) 
+primitive-procedures)) 
+
+To apply a primitive procedure, we simply apply the implementation 
+procedure to the arguments, using the underlying Lisp system: 17 
+
+16 Any procedure defined in the underlying Lisp can be used as a primitive for the 
+metacircular evaluator. The name of a primitive installed in the evaluator need not 
+be the same as the name of its implementation in the underlying Lisp; the names are 
+the same here because the metacircular evaluator implements Scheme itself. Thus, for 
+example, we could put (list 'first car) or (list 'square (lambda (x) (* x 
+x))) in the list of primitive-procedures. 
+
+17 Apply-in-underlying-scheme is the apply procedure we have used in earlier 
+chapters. The metacircular evaluator's apply procedure (Section 4.1.1) models the 
+
+
+
+519 
+
+
+
+(define (apply-primitive-procedure proc args) 
+(apply- in-underlying-scheme 
+(primitive-implementation proc) args)) 
+
+For convenience in running the metacircular evaluator, we provide a 
+driver loop that models the read-eval-print loop of the underlying Lisp 
+system. It prints a prompt, reads an input expression, evaluates this ex- 
+pression in the global environment, and prints the result. We precede 
+each printed result by an output prompt so as to distinguish the value of 
+the expression from other output that may be printed. 18 
+
+(define input-prompt ";;; M-Eval input:") 
+(define output-prompt ";;; M-Eval value:") 
+(define (driver-loop) 
+
+(prompt-for-input input-prompt) 
+(let ((input (read))) 
+
+(let ((output (eval input the-global-environment))) 
+(announce-output output-prompt) 
+(user-print output))) 
+(driver-loop) ) 
+
+working of this primitive. Having two different things called apply leads to a tech- 
+nical problem in running the metacircular evaluator, because defining the metacircular 
+evaluator's apply will mask the definition of the primitive. One way around this is to 
+rename the metacircular apply to avoid conflict with the name of the primitive proce- 
+dure. We have assumed instead that we have saved a reference to the underlying apply 
+by doing 
+
+(define apply-in-underlying-scheme apply) 
+
+before defining the metacircular apply. This allows us to access the original version of 
+apply under a different name. 
+
+18 The primitive procedure read waits for input from the user, and returns the next 
+complete expression that is typed. For example, if the user types (+ 23 x), read returns 
+a three-element list containing the symbol +, the number 23, and the symbol x. If the 
+user types 'x, read returns a two-element list containing the symbol quote and the 
+symbol x. 
+
+
+
+520 
+
+
+
+(define (prompt-f or-input string) 
+
+(newline) (newline) (display string) (newline)) 
+
+(define (announce-output string) 
+
+(newline) (display string) (newline)) 
+
+We use a special printing procedure, user-print, to avoid printing the 
+environment part of a compound procedure, which may be a very long 
+list (or may even contain cycles). 
+
+(define (user-print object) 
+
+(if (compound-procedure? object) 
+
+(display (list 'compound-procedure 
+
+(procedure-parameters object) 
+(procedure-body object) 
+' <procedu re-en v>)) 
+(display object))) 
+
+Now all we need to do to run the evaluator is to initialize the global 
+environment and start the driver loop. Here is a sample interaction: 
+
+(define the-global-environment (setup-environment)) 
+(driver-loop) 
+
+;;; M-Eval input: 
+(define (append x y) 
+(if (null? x) 
+
+y 
+
+(cons (car x) (append (cdr x) y)))) 
+; ; ; M-Eva I value : 
+ok 
+
+;;; M-Eval input: 
+(append ' (a b c) 1 (d e f)) 
+; ; ; M-Eva I value : 
+(a b c d e f) 
+
+
+
+521 
+
+
+
+Exercise 4.T4: Eva Lu Ator and Louis Reasoner are each 
+experimenting with the metacircular evaluator. Eva types 
+in the definition of map, and runs some test programs that 
+use it. They work fine. Louis, in contrast, has installed the 
+system version of map as a primitive for the metacircular 
+evaluator. When he tries it, things go terribly wrong. Ex- 
+plain why Louis's map fails even though Eva's works. 
+
+4.1.5 Data as Programs 
+
+In thinking about a Lisp program that evaluates Lisp expressions, an 
+analogy might be helpful. One operational view of the meaning of a 
+program is that a program is a description of an abstract (perhaps in- 
+finitely large) machine. For example, consider the familiar program to 
+compute factorials: 
+
+(define (factorial n) 
+
+(if (= n 1) 1 (* (factorial (- n 1)) n))) 
+
+We may regard this program as the description of a machine contain- 
+ing parts that decrement, multiply, and test for equality, together with 
+a two-position switch and another factorial machine. (The factorial ma- 
+chine is infinite because it contains another factorial machine within it.) 
+Figure 4.2 is a flow diagram for the factorial machine, showing how the 
+parts are wired together. 
+
+In a similar way, we can regard the evaluator as a very special ma- 
+chine that takes as input a description of a machine. Given this input, 
+the evaluator configures itself to emulate the machine described. For ex- 
+ample, if we feed our evaluator the definition of factorial, as shown 
+in Figure 4.3, the evaluator will be able to compute factorials. 
+
+
+
+522 
+
+
+
+factorial 
+
+
+
+factorial 
+
+
+
+t, 
+
+
+
+720 
+
+
+
+Figure 4.2: The factorial program, viewed as an abstract 
+machine. 
+
+
+
+From this perspective, our evaluator is seen to be a universal ma- 
+chine. It mimics other machines when these are described as Lisp pro- 
+grams. 19 This is striking. Try to imagine an analogous evaluator for 
+
+
+
+19 The fact that the machines are described in Lisp is inessential. If we give our eval- 
+uator a Lisp program that behaves as an evaluator for some other language, say C, 
+the Lisp evaluator will emulate the C evaluator, which in turn can emulate any ma- 
+chine described as a C program. Similarly, writing a Lisp evaluator in C produces a C 
+program that can execute any Lisp program. The deep idea here is that any evaluator 
+can emulate any other. Thus, the notion of "what can in principle be computed" (ig- 
+noring practicalities of time and memory required) is independent of the language or 
+the computer, and instead reflects an underlying notion of computability. This was first 
+demonstrated in a clear way by Alan M. Turing (1912-1954), whose 1936 paper laid the 
+foundations for theoretical computer science. In the paper, Turing presented a simple 
+computational model— now known as a Turing machine— and argued that any "effective 
+process" can be formulated as a program for such a machine. (This argument is known 
+
+
+
+523 
+
+
+
+
+
+eval 
+
+. j 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+/ 
+
+
+t 
+
+
+
+720 
+
+
+
+(define (factorial n) 
+(if (= n 1) 
+1 
+
+(* (factorial (- n 1)) n))) 
+
+
+
+Figure 4.3: The evaluator emulating a factorial machine. 
+
+
+
+electrical circuits. This would be a circuit that takes as input a signal 
+encoding the plans for some other circuit, such as a filter. Given this in- 
+put, the circuit evaluator would then behave like a filter with the same 
+description. Such a universal electrical circuit is almost unimaginably 
+complex. It is remarkable that the program evaluator is a rather simple 
+program. 
+
+as the Church-Turing thesis.) Turing then implemented a universal machine, i.e., a Tur- 
+ing machine that behaves as an evaluator for Turing-machine programs. He used this 
+framework to demonstrate that there are well-posed problems that cannot be computed 
+by Turing machines (see Exercise 4.15), and so by implication cannot be formulated as 
+"effective processes." Turing went on to make fundamental contributions to practical 
+computer science as well. For example, he invented the idea of structuring programs 
+using general-purpose subroutines. See Hodges 1983 for a biography of Turing. 
+
+20 Some people find it counterintuitive that an evaluator, which is implemented by 
+a relatively simple procedure, can emulate programs that are more complex than the 
+evaluator itself. The existence of a universal evaluator machine is a deep and wonderful 
+property of computation. Recursion theory, a branch of mathematical logic, is concerned 
+with logical limits of computation. Douglas Hofstadter's beautiful book Godel, Escher, 
+Bach explores some of these ideas (Hofstadter 1979). 
+
+
+
+524 
+
+
+
+Another striking aspect of the evaluator is that it acts as a bridge 
+between the data objects that are manipulated by our programming lan- 
+guage and the programming language itself. Imagine that the evaluator 
+program (implemented in Lisp) is running, and that a user is typing ex- 
+pressions to the evaluator and observing the results. From the perspec- 
+tive of the user, an input expression such as (* x x) is an expression in 
+the programming language, which the evaluator should execute. From 
+the perspective of the evaluator, however, the expression is simply a list 
+(in this case, a list of three symbols: *, x, and x) that is to be manipulated 
+according to a well-defined set of rules. 
+
+That the user's programs are the evaluator's data need not be a 
+source of confusion. In fact, it is sometimes convenient to ignore this 
+distinction, and to give the user the ability to explicitly evaluate a data 
+object as a Lisp expression, by making eval available for use in pro- 
+grams. Many Lisp dialects provide a primitive eval procedure that takes 
+as arguments an expression and an environment and evaluates the ex- 
+pression relative to the environment. 21 Thus, 
+
+(eval ' (* 5 5) user-initial-environment) 
+and 
+
+(eval (cons '* (list 5 5)) user-initial-environment) 
+will both return 25. 22 
+
+21 Warning: This eval primitive is not identical to the eval procedure we imple- 
+mented in Section 4.1.1, because it uses actual Scheme environments rather than the 
+sample environment structures we built in Section 4.1.3. These actual environments 
+cannot be manipulated by the user as ordinary lists; they must be accessed via eval or 
+other special operations. Similarly, the apply primitive we saw earlier is not identical 
+to the metacircular apply, because it uses actual Scheme procedures rather than the 
+procedure objects we constructed in Section 4.1.3 and Section 4.1.4. 
+
+22 The mit implementation of Scheme includes eval, as well as a symbol user- 
+initial-environment that is bound to the initial environment in which the user's in- 
+
+
+
+525 
+
+
+
+Exercise 4.T5: Given a one-argument procedure p and an 
+object a, p is said to "halt" on a if evaluating the expres- 
+sion (p a) returns a value (as opposed to terminating with 
+an error message or running forever). Show that it is im- 
+possible to write a procedure halts? that correctly deter- 
+mines whether p halts on a for any procedure p and object 
+a. Use the following reasoning: If you had such a procedure 
+halts?, you could implement the following program: 
+
+(define (run-forever) (run-forever)) 
+(define (try p) 
+
+(if (halts? p p) (run-forever) 'halted)) 
+
+Now consider evaluating the expression (try try) and 
+show that any possible outcome (either halting or running 
+forever) violates the intended behavior of halts?. 23 
+
+4.1.6 Internal Definitions 
+
+Our environment model of evaluation and our metacircular evaluator 
+execute definitions in sequence, extending the environment frame one 
+definition at a time. This is particularly convenient for interactive pro- 
+gram development, in which the programmer needs to freely mix the 
+application of procedures with the definition of new procedures. How- 
+ever, if we think carefully about the internal definitions used to im- 
+plement block structure (introduced in Section 1.1.8), we will find that 
+
+put expressions are evaluated. 
+
+23 Although we stipulated that halts? is given a procedure object, notice that this 
+reasoning still applies even if halts? can gain access to the procedure's text and its 
+environment. This is Turing's celebrated Halting Theorem, which gave the first clear 
+example of a non-computable problem, i.e., a well-posed task that cannot be carried out 
+as a computational procedure. 
+
+
+
+526 
+
+
+
+name-by-name extension of the environment may not be the best way 
+to define local variables. 
+
+Consider a procedure with internal definitions, such as 
+
+(define (f x) 
+
+(define (even? n) (if (= n 0) true (odd? (- n 1)))) 
+(define (odd? n) (if (= n 0) false (even? (- n 1)))) 
+(rest of body of f)) 
+
+Our intention here is that the name odd? in the body of the procedure 
+even? should refer to the procedure odd? that is defined after even?. 
+The scope of the name odd? is the entire body of f, not just the portion 
+of the body of f starting at the point where the define for odd? occurs. 
+Indeed, when we consider that odd? is itself defined in terms of even?— 
+so that even? and odd? are mutually recursive procedures— we see that 
+the only satisfactory interpretation of the two defines is to regard them 
+as if the names even? and odd? were being added to the environment 
+simultaneously. More generally, in block structure, the scope of a local 
+name is the entire procedure body in which the define is evaluated. 
+
+As it happens, our interpreter will evaluate calls to f correctly, but 
+for an "accidental" reason: Since the definitions of the internal proce- 
+dures come first, no calls to these procedures will be evaluated until 
+all of them have been defined. Hence, odd? will have been defined by 
+the time even? is executed. In fact, our sequential evaluation mecha- 
+nism will give the same result as a mechanism that directly implements 
+simultaneous definition for any procedure in which the internal defini- 
+tions come first in a body and evaluation of the value expressions for 
+the defined variables doesn't actually use any of the defined variables. 
+(For an example of a procedure that doesn't obey these restrictions, so 
+that sequential definition isn't equivalent to simultaneous definition, 
+
+
+
+527 
+
+
+
+see Exercise 4.19.) 24 
+
+There is, however, a simple way to treat definitions so that inter- 
+nally defined names have truly simultaneous scope— just create all local 
+variables that will be in the current environment before evaluating any 
+of the value expressions. One way to do this is by a syntax transfor- 
+mation on lambda expressions. Before evaluating the body of a lambda 
+expression, we "scan out" and eliminate all the internal definitions in 
+the body. The internally defined variables will be created with a let 
+and then set to their values by assignment. For example, the procedure 
+
+(lambda (vars) 
+(define u (e?)) 
+(define v (e2)) 
+<e3» 
+
+would be transformed into 
+
+(lambda (vars) 
+
+(let ((u ' *unassigned*) 
+(v '*unassigned*)) 
+(set! u <e7» 
+(set! v <e2» 
+<e3») 
+
+
+
+Wanting programs to not depend on this evaluation mechanism is the reason for 
+the "management is not responsible" remark in Footnote 28 of Chapter 1. By insisting 
+that internal definitions come first and do not use each other while the definitions are 
+being evaluated, the ieee standard for Scheme leaves implementors some choice in 
+the mechanism used to evaluate these definitions. The choice of one evaluation rule 
+rather than another here may seem like a small issue, affecting only the interpretation 
+of "badly formed" programs. However, we will see in Section 5.5.6 that moving to a 
+model of simultaneous scoping for internal definitions avoids some nasty difficulties 
+that would otherwise arise in implementing a compiler. 
+
+
+
+528 
+
+
+
+where *unassigned* is a special symbol that causes looking up a vari- 
+able to signal an error if an attempt is made to use the value of the 
+not-yet-assigned variable. 
+
+An alternative strategy for scanning out internal definitions is shown 
+in Exercise 4.18. Unlike the transformation shown above, this enforces 
+the restriction that the defined variables' values can be evaluated with- 
+out using any of the variables' values. 25 
+
+Exercise 4.T6: In this exercise we implement the method 
+just described for interpreting internal definitions. We as- 
+sume that the evaluator supports let (see Exercise 4.6). 
+
+a. Change lookup-variable-value (Section 4.1.3) to sig- 
+nal an error if the value it finds is the symbol *unassigned*. 
+
+b. Write a procedure scan-out-defines that takes a pro- 
+cedure body and returns an equivalent one that has 
+no internal definitions, by making the transformation 
+described above. 
+
+c. Install scan-out-defines in the interpreter, either in 
+make-procedure or in procedure-body (see Section 
+4.1.3). Which place is better? Why? 
+
+Exercise 4.T 7: Draw diagrams of the environment in effect 
+when evaluating the expression (e3 ) in the procedure in the 
+
+25 The ieee standard for Scheme allows for different implementation strategies by 
+specifying that it is up to the programmer to obey this restriction, not up to the imple- 
+mentation to enforce it. Some Scheme implementations, including mit Scheme, use the 
+transformation shown above. Thus, some programs that don't obey this restriction will 
+in fact run in such implementations. 
+
+
+
+529 
+
+
+
+text, comparing how this will be structured when defini- 
+tions are interpreted sequentially with how it will be struc- 
+tured if definitions are scanned out as described. Why is 
+there an extra frame in the transformed program? Explain 
+why this difference in environment structure can never make 
+a difference in the behavior of a correct program. Design a 
+way to make the interpreter implement the "simultaneous" 
+scope rule for internal definitions without constructing the 
+extra frame. 
+
+Exercise 4.T8: Consider an alternative strategy for scan- 
+ning out definitions that translates the example in the text 
+to 
+
+(lambda (vars) 
+
+(let ((u '*unassigned*) (v ' *unassigned*) ) 
+(let ((a (el)) (b <e2») 
+(set! u a) 
+(set! v b)) 
+<e3») 
+
+Here a and b are meant to represent new variable names, 
+created by the interpreter, that do not appear in the user's 
+program. Consider the solve procedure from Section 3.5.4: 
+
+(define (solve f y0 dt) 
+
+(define y (integral (delay dy) y0 dt)) 
+(define dy (stream-map f y)) 
+
+y) 
+
+Will this procedure work if internal definitions are scanned 
+out as shown in this exercise? What if they are scanned out 
+as shown in the text? Explain. 
+
+
+
+530 
+
+
+
+Exercise 4.T9: Ben Bitdiddle, Alyssa P. Hacker, and Eva Lu 
+Ator are arguing about the desired result of evaluating the 
+expression 
+
+(let ((a 1)) 
+(define (f x) 
+
+(define b (+ a x)) 
+(define a 5) 
+
+(+ a b)) 
+(f 10)) 
+
+Ben asserts that the result should be obtained using the se- 
+quential rule for define: b is defined to be 11, then a is de- 
+fined to be 5, so the result is 16. Alyssa objects that mutual 
+recursion requires the simultaneous scope rule for internal 
+procedure definitions, and that it is unreasonable to treat 
+procedure names differently from other names. Thus, she 
+argues for the mechanism implemented in Exercise 4.16. 
+This would lead to a being unassigned at the time that the 
+value for b is to be computed. Hence, in Alyssa's view the 
+procedure should produce an error. Eva has a third opinion. 
+She says that if the definitions of a and b are truly meant 
+to be simultaneous, then the value 5 for a should be used in 
+evaluating b. Hence, in Eva's view a should be 5, b should be 
+15, and the result should be 20. Which (if any) of these view- 
+points do you support? Can you devise a way to implement 
+internal definitions so that they behave as Eva prefers? 26 
+
+26 The mit implementors of Scheme support Alyssa on the following grounds: Eva is 
+in principle correct— the definitions should be regarded as simultaneous. But it seems 
+difficult to implement a general, efficient mechanism that does what Eva requires. In 
+the absence of such a mechanism, it is better to generate an error in the difficult cases 
+of simultaneous definitions (Alyssa's notion) than to produce an incorrect answer (as 
+Ben would have it). 
+
+531 
+
+
+
+Exercise 4.20: Because internal definitions look sequen- 
+tial but are actually simultaneous, some people prefer to 
+avoid them entirely, and use the special form letrec in- 
+stead. Letrec looks like let, so it is not surprising that the 
+variables it binds are bound simultaneously and have the 
+same scope as each other. The sample procedure f above 
+can be written without internal definitions, but with ex- 
+actly the same meaning, as 
+
+(define (f x) 
+(letrec 
+
+((even? (lambda (n) 
+
+(if (= n 0) true (odd? (- n 1))))) 
+(odd? (lambda (n) 
+
+(if (= n 0) false (even? (- n 1)))))) 
+{rest of body of f))) 
+
+Letrec expressions, which have the form 
+
+(letrec (((var^ (expi)) ... {{var n ) (exp n ))) 
+(body)) 
+
+are a variation on let in which the expressions (expk ) that 
+provide the initial values for the variables (vark ) are eval- 
+uated in an environment that includes all the letrec bind- 
+ings. This permits recursion in the bindings, such as the 
+mutual recursion of even? and odd? in the example above, 
+or the evaluation of 10 factorial with 
+
+(letrec 
+
+((fact (lambda (n) 
+
+(if (= n 1) 1 (* n (fact (- n 1))))))) 
+(fact 10)) 
+
+
+
+532 
+
+
+
+a. Implement letrec as a derived expression, by trans- 
+forming a letrec expression into a let expression as 
+shown in the text above or in Exercise 4.18. That is, 
+the letrec variables should be created with a let and 
+then be assigned their values with set ! . 
+
+b. Louis Reasoner is confused by all this fuss about inter- 
+nal definitions. The way he sees it, if you don't like to 
+use define inside a procedure, you can just use let. 
+Illustrate what is loose about his reasoning by draw- 
+ing an environment diagram that shows the environ- 
+ment in which the (rest of body off ) is evaluated dur- 
+ing evaluation of the expression (f 5), with f defined 
+as in this exercise. Draw an environment diagram for 
+the same evaluation, but with let in place of letrec 
+in the definition of f . 
+
+Exercise 4.2 T : Amazingly, Louis's intuition in Exercise 4.20 
+is correct. It is indeed possible to specify recursive proce- 
+dures without using letrec (or even define), although the 
+method for accomplishing this is much more subtle than 
+Louis imagined. The following expression computes 10 fac- 
+torial by applying a recursive factorial procedure: 27 
+
+((lambda (n) 
+
+((lambda (fact) (fact fact n)) 
+(lambda (ft k) (if (= k 1 ) 1 (* k (ft ft (- k 1))))))) 
+
+10) 
+
+27 This example illustrates a programming trick for formulating recursive procedures 
+without using define. The most general trick of this sort is the Y operator, which can be 
+used to give a "pure X-calculus" implementation of recursion. (See Stoy 1977 for details 
+on the ^-calculus, and Gabriel 1988 for an exposition of the Y operator in Scheme.) 
+
+
+
+533 
+
+
+
+a. Check (by evaluating the expression) that this really 
+does compute factorials. Devise an analogous expres- 
+sion for computing Fibonacci numbers. 
+
+b. Consider the following procedure, which includes mu- 
+tually recursive internal definitions: 
+
+(define (f x) 
+
+(define (even? n) 
+
+(if (= n 0) true (odd? (- n 1)))) 
+(define (odd? n) 
+
+(if (= n 0) false (even? (- n 1)))) 
+(even? x)) 
+
+Fill in the missing expressions to complete an alterna- 
+tive definition of f , which uses neither internal defi- 
+nitions nor letrec: 
+
+(define (f x) 
+
+((lambda (even? odd?) (even? even? odd? x)) 
+(lambda (ev? od? n) 
+
+(if (= n 0) true (od? (??) (??) <??)))) 
+(lambda (ev? od? n) 
+
+(if (= n 0) false (ev? <??) <??> <??)))))) 
+
+4.1.7 Separating Syntactic Analysis from Execution 
+
+The evaluator implemented above is simple, but it is very inefficient, 
+because the syntactic analysis of expressions is interleaved with their 
+execution. Thus if a program is executed many times, its syntax is an- 
+alyzed many times. Consider, for example, evaluating (factorial 4) 
+using the following definition of factorial: 
+
+(define (factorial n) 
+
+(if (= n 1) 1 (* (factorial (- n 1)) n))) 
+
+
+
+534 
+
+
+
+Each time factorial is called, the evaluator must determine that the 
+body is an if expression and extract the predicate. Only then can it 
+evaluate the predicate and dispatch on its value. Each time it evaluates 
+the expression (* (factorial (- n 1)) n), or the subexpressions 
+(factorial (- n 1))and(- n 1 ), the evaluator must perform the 
+case analysis in eval to determine that the expression is an application, 
+and must extract its operator and operands. This analysis is expensive. 
+Performing it repeatedly is wasteful. 
+
+We can transform the evaluator to be significantly more efficient 
+by arranging things so that syntactic analysis is performed only once. 28 
+We split eval, which takes an expression and an environment, into two 
+parts. The procedure analyze takes only the expression. It performs the 
+syntactic analysis and returns a new procedure, the execution procedure, 
+that encapsulates the work to be done in executing the analyzed expres- 
+sion. The execution procedure takes an environment as its argument 
+and completes the evaluation. This saves work because analyze will be 
+called only once on an expression, while the execution procedure may 
+be called many times. 
+
+With the separation into analysis and execution, eval now becomes 
+
+(define (eval exp env) ((analyze exp) env)) 
+
+The result of calling analyze is the execution procedure to be applied 
+to the environment. The analyze procedure is the same case analysis as 
+performed by the original eval of Section 4.1.1, except that the proce- 
+dures to which we dispatch perform only analysis, not full evaluation: 
+
+(define (analyze exp) 
+
+28 This technique is an integral part of the compilation process, which we shall discuss 
+in Chapter 5. Jonathan Rees wrote a Scheme interpreter like this in about 1982 for the T 
+project (Rees and Adams 1982). Marc Feeley (1986) (see also Feeley and Lapalme 1987) 
+independently invented this technique in his master's thesis. 
+
+
+
+535 
+
+
+
+(cond ((self-evaluating? exp) (analyze-self-evaluating exp)) 
+((quoted? exp) (analyze-quoted exp)) 
+((variable? exp) (analyze-variable exp)) 
+((assignment? exp) (analyze-assignment exp)) 
+((definition? exp) (analyze-def inition exp)) 
+((if? exp) (analyze-if exp)) 
+((lambda? exp) (analyze-lambda exp)) 
+((begin? exp) (analyze-sequence (begin-actions exp))) 
+((cond? exp) (analyze (cond->if exp))) 
+((application? exp) (analyze-application exp)) 
+(else (error "Unknown expression type: ANALYZE" exp)))) 
+
+Here is the simplest syntactic analysis procedure, which handles self- 
+evaluating expressions. It returns an execution procedure that ignores 
+its environment argument and just returns the expression: 
+
+(define (analyze-self-evaluating exp) 
+(lambda (env) exp)) 
+
+For a quoted expression, we can gain a little efficiency by extracting the 
+text of the quotation only once, in the analysis phase, rather than in the 
+execution phase. 
+
+(define (analyze-quoted exp) 
+
+(let ((qval (text-of-quotation exp))) 
+(lambda (env) qval))) 
+
+Looking up a variable value must still be done in the execution phase, 
+since this depends upon knowing the environment. 29 
+
+(define (analyze-variable exp) 
+
+(lambda (env) (lookup-variable-value exp env))) 
+
+29 1here is, however, an important part of the variable search that can be done as 
+part of the syntactic analysis. As we will show in Section 5.5.6, one can determine the 
+position in the environment structure where the value of the variable will be found, thus 
+obviating the need to scan the environment for the entry that matches the variable. 
+
+536 
+
+
+
+Analyze-assignment also must defer actually setting the variable un- 
+til the execution, when the environment has been supplied. However, 
+the fact that the assignment-value expression can be analyzed (re- 
+cursively) during analysis is a major gain in efficiency, because the 
+assignment-value expression will now be analyzed only once. The same 
+holds true for definitions. 
+
+(define (analyze-assignment exp) 
+
+(let ((var (assignment-variable exp)) 
+
+(vproc (analyze (assignment-value exp)))) 
+(lambda (env) 
+
+(set-variable-value! var (vproc env) env) 
+'ok))) 
+
+(define (analyze-def inition exp) 
+
+(let ((var (definition-variable exp)) 
+
+(vproc (analyze (definition-value exp)))) 
+(lambda (env) 
+
+(def ine-variable ! var (vproc env) env) 
+'ok))) 
+
+For if expressions, we extract and analyze the predicate, consequent, 
+and alternative at analysis time. 
+
+(define (analyze-if exp) 
+
+(let ((pproc (analyze (if-predicate exp))) 
+(cproc (analyze (if-consequent exp))) 
+(aproc (analyze (if-alternative exp)))) 
+(lambda (env) (if (true? (pproc env)) 
+(cproc env) 
+(aproc env))))) 
+
+Analyzing a lambda expression also achieves a major gain in efficiency: 
+We analyze the lambda body only once, even though procedures result- 
+ing from evaluation of the lambda may be applied many times. 
+
+
+
+537 
+
+
+
+(define (analyze-lambda exp) 
+
+(let ((vars (lambda-parameters exp)) 
+
+(bproc (analyze-sequence (lambda-body exp)))) 
+(lambda (env) (make-procedure vars bproc env)))) 
+
+Analysis of a sequence of expressions (as in a begin or the body of a 
+lambda expression) is more involved. 30 Each expression in the sequence 
+is analyzed, yielding an execution procedure. These execution proce- 
+dures are combined to produce an execution procedure that takes an 
+environment as argument and sequentially calls each individual execu- 
+tion procedure with the environment as argument. 
+
+(define (analyze-sequence exps) 
+(define (sequentially prod proc2) 
+
+(lambda (env) (prod env) (proc2 env))) 
+(define (loop first-proc rest-procs) 
+(if (null? rest-procs) 
+first-proc 
+
+(loop (sequentially first-proc (car rest-procs)) 
+(cdr rest-procs)))) 
+(let ((procs (map analyze exps))) 
+
+(if (null? procs) (error "Empty sequence: ANALYZE")) 
+(loop (car procs) (cdr procs)))) 
+
+To analyze an application, we analyze the operator and operands and 
+construct an execution procedure that calls the operator execution pro- 
+cedure (to obtain the actual procedure to be applied) and the operand 
+execution procedures (to obtain the actual arguments). We then pass 
+these to execute-application, which is the analog of apply in Section 
+4.1.1. Execute-application differs from apply in that the procedure 
+body for a compound procedure has already been analyzed, so there is 
+
+30 See Exercise 4.23 for some insight into the processing of sequences. 
+
+
+
+538 
+
+
+
+no need to do further analysis. Instead, we just call the execution pro- 
+cedure for the body on the extended environment. 
+
+(define (analyze-application exp) 
+
+(let ((fproc (analyze (operator exp))) 
+
+(aprocs (map analyze (operands exp)))) 
+(lambda (env) 
+
+(execute-application 
+(fproc env) 
+
+(map (lambda (aproc) (aproc env)) 
+aprocs))))) 
+(define (execute-application proc args) 
+(cond ((primitive-procedure? proc) 
+
+(apply-primitive-procedure proc args)) 
+((compound-procedure? proc) 
+((procedure-body proc) 
+(extend-environment 
+(procedure-parameters proc) 
+args 
+
+(procedure-environment proc)))) 
+(else 
+
+(error "Unknown procedure type: EXECUTE-APPLICATION" 
+proc)))) 
+
+Our new evaluator uses the same data structures, syntax procedures, 
+and run-time support procedures as in sections Section 4.1.2, Section 
+4.1.3, and Section 4.1.4. 
+
+Exercise 4.22: Extend the evaluator in this section to sup- 
+port the special form let. (See Exercise 4.6.) 
+
+Exercise 4.23: Alyssa P. Hacker doesn't understand why 
+analyze-sequence needs to be so complicated. All the other 
+analysis procedures are straightforward transformations of 
+
+
+
+539 
+
+
+
+the corresponding evaluation procedures (or eval clauses) 
+in Section 4.1.1. She expected analyze-sequence to look 
+like this: 
+
+(define (analyze-sequence exps) 
+
+(define (execute-sequence procs env) 
+(cond ((null? (cdr procs)) 
+((car procs) env)) 
+(else 
+((car procs) env) 
+
+(execute-sequence (cdr procs) env)))) 
+(let ((procs (map analyze exps))) 
+(if (null? procs) 
+
+(error "Empty sequence: ANALYZE")) 
+(lambda (env) 
+
+(execute-sequence procs env)))) 
+
+Eva Lu Ator explains to Alyssa that the version in the text 
+does more of the work of evaluating a sequence at analysis 
+time. Alyssa's sequence-execution procedure, rather than 
+having the calls to the individual execution procedures built 
+in, loops through the procedures in order to call them: In 
+effect, although the individual expressions in the sequence 
+have been analyzed, the sequence itself has not been. 
+
+Compare the two versions of analyze-sequence. For ex- 
+ample, consider the common case (typical of procedure bod- 
+ies) where the sequence has just one expression. What work 
+will the execution procedure produced by Alyssa's program 
+do? What about the execution procedure produced by the 
+program in the text above? How do the two versions com- 
+pare for a sequence with two expressions? 
+
+
+
+540 
+
+
+
+Exercise 4.24: Design and carry out some experiments to 
+compare the speed of the original metacircular evaluator 
+with the version in this section. Use your results to esti- 
+mate the fraction of time that is spent in analysis versus 
+execution for various procedures. 
+
+4.2 Variations on a Scheme — Lazy Evaluation 
+
+Now that we have an evaluator expressed as a Lisp program, we can 
+experiment with alternative choices in language design simply by mod- 
+ifying the evaluator. Indeed, new languages are often invented by first 
+writing an evaluator that embeds the new language within an exist- 
+ing high-level language. For example, if we wish to discuss some aspect 
+of a proposed modification to Lisp with another member of the Lisp 
+community, we can supply an evaluator that embodies the change. The 
+recipient can then experiment with the new evaluator and send back 
+comments as further modifications. Not only does the high-level imple- 
+mentation base make it easier to test and debug the evaluator; in addi- 
+tion, the embedding enables the designer to snarf 31 features from the 
+underlying language, just as our embedded Lisp evaluator uses primi- 
+tives and control structure from the underlying Lisp. Only later (if ever) 
+need the designer go to the trouble of building a complete implemen- 
+tation in a low-level language or in hardware. In this section and the 
+next we explore some variations on Scheme that provide significant ad- 
+ditional expressive power. 
+
+31 Snarf: "To grab, especially a large document or file for the purpose of using it ei- 
+ther with or without the owner's permission." Snarf down: "To snarf, sometimes with 
+the connotation of absorbing, processing, or understanding." (These definitions were 
+snarfed from Steele et al. 1983. See also Raymond 1993.) 
+
+
+
+541 
+
+
+
+4.2.1 Normal Order and Applicative Order 
+
+In Section 1.1, where we began our discussion of models of evaluation, 
+we noted that Scheme is an applicative-order language, namely, that all 
+the arguments to Scheme procedures are evaluated when the procedure 
+is applied. In contrast, normal-order languages delay evaluation of pro- 
+cedure arguments until the actual argument values are needed. Delay- 
+ing evaluation of procedure arguments until the last possible moment 
+(e.g., until they are required by a primitive operation) is called lazy eval- 
+uation? 2 Consider the procedure 
+
+(define (try a b) (if (= a 0) 1 b)) 
+
+Evaluating (try 0 (/ 1 0)) generates an error in Scheme. With lazy 
+evaluation, there would be no error. Evaluating the expression would 
+return 1, because the argument (/ 1 0) would never be evaluated. 
+
+An example that exploits lazy evaluation is the definition of a pro- 
+cedure unless 
+
+(define (unless condition usual-value exceptional-value) 
+(if condition exceptional-value usual-value)) 
+
+that can be used in expressions such as 
+
+(unless (= b 0) 
+(/ a b) 
+
+(begin (display "exception: returning 0") 0)) 
+
+This won't work in an applicative-order language because both the usual 
+value and the exceptional value will be evaluated before unless is called 
+
+32 The difference between the "lazy" terminology and the "normal-order" terminol- 
+ogy is somewhat fuzzy. Generally, "lazy" refers to the mechanisms of particular eval- 
+uates, while "normal-order" refers to the semantics of languages, independent of any 
+particular evaluation strategy. But this is not a hard-and-fast distinction, and the two 
+terminologies are often used interchangeably. 
+
+
+
+542 
+
+
+
+(compare Exercise 1.6). An advantage of lazy evaluation is that some 
+procedures, such as unless, can do useful computation even if evalu- 
+ation of some of their arguments would produce errors or would not 
+terminate. 
+
+If the body of a procedure is entered before an argument has been 
+evaluated we say that the procedure is non-strict in that argument. If the 
+argument is evaluated before the body of the procedure is entered we 
+say that the procedure is strict in that argument. 33 In a purely applicative- 
+order language, all procedures are strict in each argument. In a purely 
+normal-order language, all compound procedures are non-strict in each 
+argument, and primitive procedures may be either strict or non-strict. 
+There are also languages (see Exercise 4.31) that give programmers de- 
+tailed control over the strictness of the procedures they define. 
+
+A striking example of a procedure that can usefully be made non- 
+strict is cons (or, in general, almost any constructor for data structures). 
+One can do useful computation, combining elements to form data struc- 
+tures and operating on the resulting data structures, even if the values 
+of the elements are not known. It makes perfect sense, for instance, to 
+compute the length of a list without knowing the values of the indi- 
+vidual elements in the list. We will exploit this idea in Section 4.2.3 to 
+implement the streams of Chapter 3 as lists formed of non-strict cons 
+pairs. 
+
+Exercise 4.25: Suppose that (in ordinary applicative-order 
+Scheme) we define unless as shown above and then define 
+
+33 The "strict" versus "non-strict" terminology means essentially the same thing as 
+"applicative-order" versus "normal-order," except that it refers to individual procedures 
+and arguments rather than to the language as a whole. At a conference on programming 
+languages you might hear someone say, "The normal-order language Hassle has certain 
+strict primitives. Other procedures take their arguments by lazy evaluation." 
+
+
+
+543 
+
+
+
+factorial in terms of unless as 
+
+
+
+(define (factorial n) 
+(unless (= n 1) 
+
+(* n (factorial (- n 1))) 
+D) 
+
+What happens if we attempt to evaluate (factorial 5)? 
+Will our definitions work in a normal-order language? 
+
+Exercise 4.26: Ben Bitdiddle and Alyssa P. Hacker disagree 
+over the importance of lazy evaluation for implementing 
+things such as unless. Ben points out that it's possible to 
+implement unless in applicative order as a special form. 
+Alyssa counters that, if one did that, unless would be merely 
+syntax, not a procedure that could be used in conjunction 
+with higher-order procedures. Fill in the details on both 
+sides of the argument. Show how to implement unless as 
+a derived expression (like cond or let), and give an exam- 
+ple of a situation where it might be useful to have unless 
+available as a procedure, rather than as a special form. 
+
+4.2.2 An Interpreter with Lazy Evaluation 
+
+In this section we will implement a normal-order language that is the 
+same as Scheme except that compound procedures are non-strict in each 
+argument. Primitive procedures will still be strict. It is not difficult to 
+modify the evaluator of Section 4.1.1 so that the language it interprets 
+behaves this way. Almost all the required changes center around pro- 
+cedure application. 
+
+The basic idea is that, when applying a procedure, the interpreter 
+must determine which arguments are to be evaluated and which are to 
+
+
+
+544 
+
+
+
+be delayed. The delayed arguments are not evaluated; instead, they are 
+transformed into objects called thunks? 4 The thunk must contain the 
+information required to produce the value of the argument when it is 
+needed, as if it had been evaluated at the time of the application. Thus, 
+the thunk must contain the argument expression and the environment 
+in which the procedure application is being evaluated. 
+
+The process of evaluating the expression in a thunk is called forc- 
+ing? 5 In general, a thunk will be forced only when its value is needed: 
+when it is passed to a primitive procedure that will use the value of the 
+thunk; when it is the value of a predicate of a conditional; and when it is 
+the value of an operator that is about to be applied as a procedure. One 
+design choice we have available is whether or not to memoize thunks, as 
+we did with delayed objects in Section 3.5.1. With memoization, the first 
+time a thunk is forced, it stores the value that is computed. Subsequent 
+forcings simply return the stored value without repeating the computa- 
+tion. We'll make our interpreter memoize, because this is more efficient 
+for many applications. There are tricky considerations here, however. 36 
+
+34 The word thunk was invented by an informal working group that was discussing 
+the implementation of call-by-name in Algol 60. They observed that most of the analysis 
+of ("thinking about") the expression could be done at compile time; thus, at run time, 
+the expression would already have been "thunk" about (Ingerman et al. 1960). 
+
+35 This is analogous to the use of force on the delayed objects that were introduced 
+in Chapter 3 to represent streams. The critical difference between what we are doing 
+here and what we did in Chapter 3 is that we are building delaying and forcing into the 
+evaluator, and thus making this uniform and automatic throughout the language. 
+
+36 Lazy evaluation combined with memoization is sometimes referred to as call-by- 
+need argument passing, in contrast to call-by-name argument passing. (Call-by-name, 
+introduced in Algol 60, is similar to non-memoized lazy evaluation.) As language de- 
+signers, we can build our evaluator to memoize, not to memoize, or leave this an option 
+for programmers (Exercise 4.31). As you might expect from Chapter 3, these choices 
+raise issues that become both subtle and confusing in the presence of assignments. (See 
+Exercise 4.27 and Exercise 4.29.) An excellent article by Clinger (1982) attempts to clar- 
+
+
+
+545 
+
+
+
+Modifying the evaluator 
+
+The main difference between the lazy evaluator and the one in Section 
+4.1 is in the handling of procedure applications in eval and apply. 
+The application? clause of eval becomes 
+
+((application? exp) 
+(apply (actual-value (operator exp) env) 
+(operands exp) 
+env)) 
+
+This is almost the same as the application? clause of eval in Sec- 
+tion 4.1.1. For lazy evaluation, however, we call apply with the operand 
+expressions, rather than the arguments produced by evaluating them. 
+Since we will need the environment to construct thunks if the argu- 
+ments are to be delayed, we must pass this as well. We still evaluate 
+the operator, because apply needs the actual procedure to be applied in 
+order to dispatch on its type (primitive versus compound) and apply it. 
+Whenever we need the actual value of an expression, we use 
+
+(define (actual-value exp env) 
+(force-it (eval exp env))) 
+
+instead of just eval, so that if the expression's value is a thunk, it will 
+be forced. 
+
+Our new version of apply is also almost the same as the version 
+in Section 4.1.1. The difference is that eval has passed in unevaluated 
+operand expressions: For primitive procedures (which are strict), we 
+evaluate all the arguments before applying the primitive; for compound 
+procedures (which are non-strict) we delay all the arguments before ap- 
+plying the procedure. 
+
+ify the multiple dimensions of confusion that arise here. 
+
+
+
+546 
+
+
+
+(define 
+(cond 
+
+
+
+(apply procedure arguments env) 
+( (primitive-procedure? procedure) 
+
+
+
+(apply-primitive-procedure 
+procedure 
+
+(list-of-arg-values arguments env))) /changed 
+((compound-procedure? procedure) 
+(eval-sequence 
+(procedure-body procedure) 
+(extend-environment 
+(procedure-parameters procedure) 
+(list-of-delayed-args arguments env) /changed 
+(procedure-environment procedure)))) 
+(else (error "Unknown procedure type: APPLY" 
+procedure)))) 
+
+
+
+The procedures that process the arguments are just like list-of-values 
+from Section 4.1.1, except that list-of-delayed-args delays the argu- 
+ments instead of evaluating them, and list-of-arg-values uses actual- 
+value instead of eval: 
+
+(define (list-of-arg-values exps env) 
+(if (no-operands? exps) 
+
+
+
+'() 
+
+(cons (actual-value (first-operand exps) 
+
+
+
+env) 
+
+
+
+(list-of-arg-values (rest-operands exps) 
+
+
+
+env)))) 
+
+(define (list-of-delayed-args exps env) 
+(if (no-operands? exps) 
+
+
+
+(cons (delay-it (first-operand exps) 
+
+
+
+env) 
+
+
+
+(list-of-delayed-args (rest-operands exps) 
+
+
+
+env)))) 
+
+
+
+547 
+
+
+
+The other place we must change the evaluator is in the handling of i f , 
+where we must use actual-value instead of eval to get the value of 
+the predicate expression before testing whether it is true or false: 
+
+(define (eval-if exp env) 
+
+(if (true? (actual-value (if-predicate exp) env)) 
+(eval (if-consequent exp) env) 
+(eval (if-alternative exp) env))) 
+
+Finally, we must change the driver-loop procedure (Section 4.1.4) to 
+use actual-value instead of eval, so that if a delayed value is prop- 
+agated back to the read-eval-print loop, it will be forced before being 
+printed. We also change the prompts to indicate that this is the lazy 
+evaluator: 
+
+(define input-prompt ";;; L-Eval input:") 
+(define output-prompt ";;; L-Eval value:") 
+(define (driver-loop) 
+
+(prompt-for-input input-prompt) 
+(let ((input (read))) 
+(let ((output 
+
+(actual-value 
+input the-global-environment))) 
+(announce-output output-prompt) 
+(user-print output))) 
+(driver-loop) ) 
+
+With these changes made, we can start the evaluator and test it. The 
+successful evaluation of the try expression discussed in Section 4.2.1 
+indicates that the interpreter is performing lazy evaluation: 
+
+(define the-global-environment (setup-environment)) 
+
+(driver-loop) 
+
+;;; L-Eval input: 
+
+(define (try a b) (if (= a 0) 1 b)) 
+
+
+
+548 
+
+
+
+; ; ; L-Eval value: 
+ok 
+
+;;; L-Eval input: 
+(try 0 (/ 1 0)) 
+; ; ; L -Eva I value : 
+7 
+
+Representing thunks 
+
+Our evaluator must arrange to create thunks when procedures are ap- 
+plied to arguments and to force these thunks later. A thunk must pack- 
+age an expression together with the environment, so that the argument 
+can be produced later. To force the thunk, we simply extract the ex- 
+pression and environment from the thunk and evaluate the expression 
+in the environment. We use actual-value rather than eval so that in 
+case the value of the expression is itself a thunk, we will force that, and 
+so on, until we reach something that is not a thunk: 
+
+(define (force-it obj) 
+(if (thunk? obj) 
+
+(actual-value (thunk-exp obj) (thunk-env obj)) 
+obj)) 
+
+One easy way to package an expression with an environment is to make 
+a list containing the expression and the environment. Thus, we create a 
+thunk as follows: 
+
+(define (delay-it exp env) 
+
+(list 'thunk exp env)) 
+(define (thunk? obj) 
+
+(tagged-list? obj 'thunk)) 
+(define (thunk-exp thunk) (cadr thunk)) 
+(define (thunk-env thunk) (caddr thunk)) 
+
+
+
+549 
+
+
+
+Actually, what we want for our interpreter is not quite this, but rather 
+thunks that have been memoized. When a thunk is forced, we will turn 
+it into an evaluated thunk by replacing the stored expression with its 
+value and changing the thunk tag so that it can be recognized as already 
+evaluated. 37 
+
+(define (evaluated-thunk? obj) 
+
+(tagged-list? obj 'evaluated-thunk)) 
+(define (thunk-value evaluated-thunk) 
+
+(cadr evaluated-thunk)) 
+(define (force-it obj) 
+(cond ((thunk? obj) 
+
+(let ((result (actual-value (thunk-exp obj) 
+
+(thunk-env obj)))) 
+(set-car! obj 'evaluated-thunk) 
+(set-car! (cdr obj) 
+
+result) /replace exp with its value 
+(set-cdr! (cdr obj) 
+
+'()) ; forget unneeded en v 
+
+result) ) 
+
+((evaluated-thunk? obj) (thunk-value obj)) 
+(else obj))) 
+
+Notice that the same del ay- it procedure works both with and without 
+memoization. 
+
+37 Notice that we also erase the env from the thunk once the expression's value has 
+been computed. This makes no difference in the values returned by the interpreter. It 
+does help save space, however, because removing the reference from the thunk to the 
+env once it is no longer needed allows this structure to be garbage-collected and its space 
+recycled, as we will discuss in Section 5.3. 
+
+Similarly, we could have allowed unneeded environments in the memoized delayed 
+objects of Section 3.5.1 to be garbage-collected, by having memo-proc do something like 
+(set! proc ' ()) to discard the procedure proc (which includes the environment in 
+which the delay was evaluated) after storing its value. 
+
+
+
+550 
+
+
+
+Exercise 4.27: Suppose we type in the following definitions 
+to the lazy evaluator: 
+
+(define count 0) 
+
+(define (id x) (set! count (+ count 1)) x) 
+
+Give the missing values in the following sequence of inter- 
+actions, and explain your answers. 38 
+
+(define w (id (id 10))) 
+;;; L-Eval input: 
+count 
+
+;;; L-Eval value: 
+
+(response) 
+
+;;; L-Eval input: 
+
+w 
+
+; ; ; L-Eval value: 
+
+(response) 
+
+;;; L-Eval input: 
+
+count 
+
+; ; ; L-Eval value: 
+(response) 
+
+Exercise 4.28: Eval uses actual-value rather than eval 
+to evaluate the operator before passing it to apply, in or- 
+der to force the value of the operator. Give an example that 
+demonstrates the need for this forcing. 
+
+Exercise 4.29: Exhibit a program that you would expect 
+to run much more slowly without memoization than with 
+
+38 This exercise demonstrates that the interaction between lazy evaluation and side 
+effects can be very confusing. This is just what you might expect from the discussion 
+in Chapter 3. 
+
+
+
+551 
+
+
+
+memoization. Also, consider the following interaction, where 
+the id procedure is defined as in Exercise 4.27 and count 
+starts at 0: 
+
+(define (square x) (* x x)) 
+
+; ; ; L-Eval input: 
+
+(square (id 10)) 
+
+; ; ; L-Eval value: 
+
+(response) 
+
+;;; L-Eval input: 
+
+count 
+
+; ; ; L-Eval value: 
+(response) 
+
+Give the responses both when the evaluator memoizes and 
+when it does not. 
+
+Exercise 4.30: Cy D. Feet, a reformed C programmer, is 
+worried that some side effects may never take place, be- 
+cause the lazy evaluator doesn't force the expressions in a 
+sequence. Since the value of an expression in a sequence 
+other than the last one is not used (the expression is there 
+only for its effect, such as assigning to a variable or print- 
+ing), there can be no subsequent use of this value (e.g., as an 
+argument to a primitive procedure) that will cause it to be 
+forced. Cy thus thinks that when evaluating sequences, we 
+must force all expressions in the sequence except the final 
+one. He proposes to modify eval-sequence from Section 
+4.1.1 to use actual-value rather than eval: 
+
+(define (eval-sequence exps env) 
+
+(cond ((last-exp? exps) (eval (first-exp exps) env)) 
+(else (actual-value (first-exp exps) env) 
+
+
+
+552 
+
+
+
+(eval-sequence (rest-exps exps) env)))) 
+
+a. Ben Bitdiddle thinks Cy is wrong. He shows Cy the 
+f or-each procedure described in Exercise 2.23, which 
+gives an important example of a sequence with side 
+effects: 
+
+(define (for-each proc items) 
+(if (null? items) 
+' done 
+
+(begin (proc (car items)) 
+
+(for-each proc (cdr items))))) 
+
+He claims that the evaluator in the text (with the orig- 
+inal eval-sequence) handles this correctly: 
+
+;;; L-Eval input: 
+
+(for-each (lambda (x) (newline) (display x)) 
+(list 57 321 88)) 
+
+57 
+
+327 
+
+88 
+
+;;; L-Eval value: 
+done 
+
+Explain why Ben is right about the behavior of for- 
+each. 
+
+b. Cy agrees that Ben is right about the for-each exam- 
+ple, but says that that's not the kind of program he 
+was thinking about when he proposed his change to 
+eval-sequence. He defines the following two proce- 
+dures in the lazy evaluator: 
+
+
+
+553 
+
+
+
+(define (p1 x) 
+
+(set! x (cons x ' (2))) 
+x) 
+
+(define (p2 x) 
+(define (p e) 
+
+e 
+
+x) 
+
+(p (set! x (cons x '(2))))) 
+
+What are the values of (p1 1 ) and (p2 1 ) with the 
+original eval-sequence? What would the values be 
+with Cy's proposed change to eval-sequence? 
+
+c. Cy also points out that changing eval-sequence as he 
+proposes does not affect the behavior of the example 
+in part a. Explain why this is true. 
+
+d. How do you think sequences ought to be treated in 
+the lazy evaluator? Do you like Cy's approach, the ap- 
+proach in the text, or some other approach? 
+
+Exercise 4.3 T: The approach taken in this section is some- 
+what unpleasant, because it makes an incompatible change 
+to Scheme. It might be nicer to implement lazy evaluation 
+as an upward-compatible extension, that is, so that ordinary 
+Scheme programs will work as before. We can do this by 
+extending the syntax of procedure declarations to let the 
+user control whether or not arguments are to be delayed. 
+While we're at it, we may as well also give the user the 
+choice between delaying with and without memoization. 
+For example, the definition 
+
+(define (f a (b lazy) c (d lazy-memo)) 
+...) 
+
+
+
+554 
+
+
+
+would define f to be a procedure of four arguments, where 
+the first and third arguments are evaluated when the pro- 
+cedure is called, the second argument is delayed, and the 
+fourth argument is both delayed and memoized. Thus, or- 
+dinary procedure definitions will produce the same behav- 
+ior as ordinary Scheme, while adding the lazy-memo dec- 
+laration to each parameter of every compound procedure 
+will produce the behavior of the lazy evaluator defined in 
+this section. Design and implement the changes required 
+to produce such an extension to Scheme. You will have to 
+implement new syntax procedures to handle the new syn- 
+tax for define. You must also arrange for eval or apply to 
+determine when arguments are to be delayed, and to force 
+or delay arguments accordingly, and you must arrange for 
+forcing to memoize or not, as appropriate. 
+
+4.2.3 Streams as Lazy Lists 
+
+In Section 3.5.1, we showed how to implement streams as delayed lists. 
+We introduced special forms delay and cons-stream, which allowed 
+us to construct a "promise" to compute the cdr of a stream, without 
+actually fulfilling that promise until later. We could use this general 
+technique of introducing special forms whenever we need more control 
+over the evaluation process, but this is awkward. For one thing, a spe- 
+cial form is not a first-class object like a procedure, so we cannot use it 
+together with higher-order procedures. 39 Additionally, we were forced 
+to create streams as a new kind of data object similar but not identical to 
+lists, and this required us to reimplement many ordinary list operations 
+
+39 This is precisely the issue with the unless procedure, as in Exercise 4.26. 
+
+
+
+555 
+
+
+
+(map, append, and so on) for use with streams. 
+
+With lazy evaluation, streams and lists can be identical, so there is 
+no need for special forms or for separate list and stream operations. All 
+we need to do is to arrange matters so that cons is non-strict. One way 
+to accomplish this is to extend the lazy evaluator to allow for non-strict 
+primitives, and to implement cons as one of these. An easier way is to re- 
+call (Section 2.1.3) that there is no fundamental need to implement cons 
+as a primitive at all. Instead, we can represent pairs as procedures: 40 
+
+(define (cons x y) (lambda (m) (m x y))) 
+(define (car z) (z (lambda (p q) p))) 
+(define (cdr z) (z (lambda (p q) q))) 
+
+In terms of these basic operations, the standard definitions of the list 
+operations will work with infinite lists (streams) as well as finite ones, 
+and the stream operations can be implemented as list operations. Here 
+are some examples: 
+
+(define (list-ref items n) 
+(if (= n 0) 
+
+(car items) 
+
+(list-ref (cdr items) (- n 1)))) 
+(define (map proc items) 
+(if (null? items) 
+
+■o 
+
+(cons (proc (car items)) (map proc (cdr items))))) 
+(define (scale-list items factor) 
+
+(map (lambda (x) (* x factor)) items)) 
+
+40 This is the procedural representation described in Exercise 2.4. Essentially any pro- 
+cedural representation (e.g., a message-passing implementation) would do as well. No- 
+tice that we can install these definitions in the lazy evaluator simply by typing them 
+at the driver loop. If we had originally included cons, car, and cdr as primitives in the 
+global environment, they will be redefined. (Also see Exercise 4.33 and Exercise 4.34.) 
+
+
+
+556 
+
+
+
+(define (add-lists listl list2) 
+(cond ((null? listl) list2) 
+((null? Iist2) listl) 
+
+(else (cons (+ (car listl) (car list2)) 
+
+(add-lists (cdr listl) (cdr list2)))))) 
+(define ones (cons 1 ones)) 
+
+(define integers (cons 1 (add-lists ones integers))) 
+
+;;; L-Eval input: 
+
+(list-ref integers 17) 
+
+; ; ; L -Eva I value : 
+
+18 
+
+Note that these lazy lists are even lazier than the streams of Chapter 3: 
+The car of the list, as well as the cdr, is delayed. 41 In fact, even accessing 
+the car or cdr of a lazy pair need not force the value of a list element. 
+The value will be forced only when it is really needed— e.g., for use as 
+the argument of a primitive, or to be printed as an answer. 
+
+Lazy pairs also help with the problem that arose with streams in Sec- 
+tion 3.5.4, where we found that formulating stream models of systems 
+with loops may require us to sprinkle our programs with explicit delay 
+operations, beyond the ones supplied by cons-stream. With lazy evalu- 
+ation, all arguments to procedures are delayed uniformly. For instance, 
+we can implement procedures to integrate lists and solve differential 
+equations as we originally intended in Section 3.5.4: 
+
+(define (integral integrand initial-value dt) 
+(define int 
+
+(cons initial-value 
+
+(add-lists (scale-list integrand dt) int))) 
+
+int) 
+
+41 This permits us to create delayed versions of more general kinds of list structures, 
+not just sequences. Hughes 1990 discusses some applications of "lazy trees." 
+
+
+
+557 
+
+
+
+(define (solve f y0 dt) 
+
+(define y (integral dy y0 dt)) 
+(define dy (map f y)) 
+
+y) 
+
+;;; L-Eval input: 
+
+(list-ref (solve (lambda (x) x) 1 0.001) 1000) 
+; ; ; L-Eval value: 
+2. 716924 
+
+Exercise 4.32: Give some examples that illustrate the dif- 
+ference between the streams of Chapter 3 and the "lazier" 
+lazy lists described in this section. How can you take ad- 
+vantage of this extra laziness? 
+
+Exercise 4.33: Ben Bitdiddle tests the lazy list implemen- 
+tation given above by evaluating the expression: 
+
+(car ' (a b c)) 
+
+To his surprise, this produces an error. After some thought, 
+he realizes that the "lists" obtained by reading in quoted 
+expressions are different from the lists manipulated by the 
+new definitions of cons, car, and cdr. Modify the evalua- 
+tor's treatment of quoted expressions so that quoted lists 
+typed at the driver loop will produce true lazy lists. 
+
+Exercise 4.34: Modify the driver loop for the evaluator so 
+that lazy pairs and lists will print in some reasonable way. 
+(What are you going to do about infinite lists?) You may 
+also need to modify the representation of lazy pairs so that 
+the evaluator can identify them in order to print them. 
+
+
+
+558 
+
+
+
+4.3 Variations on a Scheme — Nondeterministic 
+Computing 
+
+In this section, we extend the Scheme evaluator to support a program- 
+ming paradigm called nondeterministic computing by building into the 
+evaluator a facility to support automatic search. This is a much more 
+profound change to the language than the introduction of lazy evalua- 
+tion in Section 4.2. 
+
+Nondeterministic computing, like stream processing, is useful for 
+"generate and test" applications. Consider the task of starting with two 
+lists of positive integers and finding a pair of integers— one from the first 
+list and one from the second list— whose sum is prime. We saw how to 
+handle this with finite sequence operations in Section 2.2.3 and with 
+infinite streams in Section 3.5.3. Our approach was to generate the se- 
+quence of all possible pairs and filter these to select the pairs whose sum 
+is prime. Whether we actually generate the entire sequence of pairs first 
+as in Chapter 2, or interleave the generating and filtering as in Chap- 
+ter 3, is immaterial to the essential image of how the computation is 
+organized. 
+
+The nondeterministic approach evokes a different image. Imagine 
+simply that we choose (in some way) a number from the first list and a 
+number from the second list and require (using some mechanism) that 
+their sum be prime. This is expressed by following procedure: 
+
+(define (prime-sum-pair listl list2) 
+(let ((a (an-element-of listl)) 
+(b (an-element-of list2))) 
+(require (prime? (+ a b))) 
+(list a b))) 
+
+It might seem as if this procedure merely restates the problem, rather 
+than specifying a way to solve it. Nevertheless, this is a legitimate non- 
+559 
+
+
+
+deterministic program. 42 
+
+The key idea here is that expressions in a nondeterministic language 
+can have more than one possible value. For instance, an-element-of 
+might return any element of the given list. Our nondeterministic pro- 
+gram evaluator will work by automatically choosing a possible value 
+and keeping track of the choice. If a subsequent requirement is not met, 
+the evaluator will try a different choice, and it will keep trying new 
+choices until the evaluation succeeds, or until we run out of choices. 
+Just as the lazy evaluator freed the programmer from the details of how 
+values are delayed and forced, the nondeterministic program evaluator 
+will free the programmer from the details of how choices are made. 
+
+It is instructive to contrast the different images of time evoked by 
+nondeterministic evaluation and stream processing. Stream processing 
+uses lazy evaluation to decouple the time when the stream of possible 
+answers is assembled from the time when the actual stream elements are 
+produced. The evaluator supports the illusion that all the possible an- 
+swers are laid out before us in a timeless sequence. With nondetermin- 
+istic evaluation, an expression represents the exploration of a set of pos- 
+sible worlds, each determined by a set of choices. Some of the possible 
+worlds lead to dead ends, while others have useful values. The nonde- 
+terministic program evaluator supports the illusion that time branches, 
+and that our programs have different possible execution histories. When 
+
+42 We assume that we have previously defined a procedure prime? that tests whether 
+numbers are prime. Even with prime? defined, the prime-sum-pair procedure may 
+look suspiciously like the unhelpful "pseudo-Lisp" attempt to define the square-root 
+function, which we described at the beginning of Section 1.1.7. In fact, a square-root 
+procedure along those lines can actually be formulated as a nondeterministic program. 
+By incorporating a search mechanism into the evaluator, we are eroding the distinc- 
+tion between purely declarative descriptions and imperative specifications of how to 
+compute answers. We'll go even farther in this direction in Section 4.4. 
+
+
+
+560 
+
+
+
+we reach a dead end, we can revisit a previous choice point and proceed 
+along a different branch. 
+
+The nondeterministic program evaluator implemented below is called 
+the amb evaluator because it is based on a new special form called amb. 
+We can type the above definition of prime-sum-pair at the amb evalu- 
+ator driver loop (along with definitions of prime?, an-element-of, and 
+require) and run the procedure as follows: 
+
+;;; Amb-Eval input: 
+
+(prime-sum-pair '(1 3 5 8) '(20 35 110)) 
+;;; Starting a new problem 
+; ; ; Amb-Eva I value : 
+(3 20) 
+
+The value returned was obtained after the evaluator repeatedly chose 
+elements from each of the lists, until a successful choice was made. 
+
+Section 4.3.1 introduces amb and explains how it supports nondeter- 
+minism through the evaluator's automatic search mechanism. Section 
+4.3.2 presents examples of nondeterministic programs, and Section 4.3.3 
+gives the details of how to implement the amb evaluator by modifying 
+the ordinary Scheme evaluator. 
+
+4.3.1 Amb and Search 
+
+To extend Scheme to support nondeterminism, we introduce a new spe- 
+cial form called amb. 43 The expression 
+
+(amb {e x ) (e 2 > . . . (e n )) 
+
+returns the value of one of the n expressions (e,-) "ambiguously." For 
+example, the expression 
+
+43 The idea of amb for nondeterministic programming was first described in 1961 by 
+John McCarthy (see McCarthy 1963). 
+
+
+
+561 
+
+
+
+(list (amb 1 2 3) (amb 'a 'b)) 
+can have six possible values: 
+
+(1 a) (1 b) (2 a) (2 b) (3 a) (3 b) 
+
+Amb with a single choice produces an ordinary (single) value. 
+
+Amb with no choices— the expression (amb)— is an expression with 
+no acceptable values. Operationally, we can think of (amb) as an expres- 
+sion that when evaluated causes the computation to "fail": The compu- 
+tation aborts and no value is produced. Using this idea, we can express 
+the requirement that a particular predicate expression p must be true as 
+follows: 
+
+(define (require p) (if (not p) (amb))) 
+
+With amb and require, we can implement the an-element-of proce- 
+dure used above: 
+
+(define (an-element-of items) 
+(require (not (null? items))) 
+(amb (car items) (an-element-of (cdr items)))) 
+
+An-element-of fails if the list is empty. Otherwise it ambiguously re- 
+turns either the first element of the list or an element chosen from the 
+rest of the list. 
+
+We can also express infinite ranges of choices. The following proce- 
+dure potentially returns any integer greater than or equal to some given 
+n: 
+
+(define (an-integer-starting-f rom n) 
+
+(amb n (an-integer-starting-f rom (+ n 1)))) 
+
+This is like the stream procedure integers-starting-f rom described 
+in Section 3.5.2, but with an important difference: The stream procedure 
+
+
+
+562 
+
+
+
+returns an object that represents the sequence of all integers beginning 
+with n, whereas the amb procedure returns a single integer. 44 
+
+Abstractly, we can imagine that evaluating an amb expression causes 
+time to split into branches, where the computation continues on each 
+branch with one of the possible values of the expression. We say that 
+amb represents a nondeterministic choice point. If we had a machine with a 
+sufficient number of processors that could be dynamically allocated, we 
+could implement the search in a straightforward way. Execution would 
+proceed as in a sequential machine, until an amb expression is encoun- 
+tered. At this point, more processors would be allocated and initialized 
+to continue all of the parallel executions implied by the choice. Each 
+processor would proceed sequentially as if it were the only choice, until 
+it either terminates by encountering a failure, or it further subdivides, 
+or it finishes 45 
+
+On the other hand, if we have a machine that can execute only one 
+process (or a few concurrent processes), we must consider the alterna- 
+tives sequentially. One could imagine modifying an evaluator to pick 
+at random a branch to follow whenever it encounters a choice point. 
+
+44 In actuality, the distinction between nondeterministically returning a single choice 
+and returning all choices depends somewhat on our point of view. From the perspective 
+of the code that uses the value, the nondeterministic choice returns a single value. From 
+the perspective of the programmer designing the code, the nondeterministic choice 
+potentially returns all possible values, and the computation branches so that each value 
+is investigated separately. 
+
+45 One might object that this is a hopelessly inefficient mechanism. It might require 
+millions of processors to solve some easily stated problem this way, and most of the 
+time most of those processors would be idle. This objection should be taken in the 
+context of history. Memory used to be considered just such an expensive commodity. 
+In 1964 a megabyte of RAM cost about $400,000. Now every personal computer has 
+many megabytes of RAM, and most of the time most of that RAM is unused. It is hard 
+to underestimate the cost of mass-produced electronics. 
+
+
+
+563 
+
+
+
+Random choice, however, can easily lead to failing values. We might 
+try running the evaluator over and over, making random choices and 
+hoping to find a non-failing value, but it is better to systematically search 
+all possible execution paths. The amb evaluator that we will develop and 
+work with in this section implements a systematic search as follows: 
+When the evaluator encounters an application of amb, it initially selects 
+the first alternative. This selection may itself lead to a further choice. The 
+evaluator will always initially choose the first alternative at each choice 
+point. If a choice results in a failure, then the evaluator automagically 46 
+backtracks to the most recent choice point and tries the next alternative. 
+If it runs out of alternatives at any choice point, the evaluator will back 
+up to the previous choice point and resume from there. This process 
+leads to a search strategy known as depth-first search or chronological 
+backtracking. 47 
+
+46 Automagically: "Automatically, but in a way which, for some reason (typically be- 
+cause it is too complicated, or too ugly, or perhaps even too trivial), the speaker doesn't 
+feel like explaining." (Steele et al. 1983, Raymond 1993) 
+
+47 The integration of automatic search strategies into programming languages has 
+had a long and checkered history. The first suggestions that nondeterministic algo- 
+rithms might be elegantly encoded in a programming language with search and au- 
+tomatic backtracking came from Robert Floyd (1967). Carl Hewitt (1969) invented a 
+programming language called Planner that explicitly supported automatic chronolog- 
+ical backtracking, providing for a built-in depth-first search strategy. Sussman et al. 
+(1971) implemented a subset of this language, called MicroPlanner, which was used 
+to support work in problem solving and robot planning. Similar ideas, arising from 
+logic and theorem proving, led to the genesis in Edinburgh and Marseille of the ele- 
+gant language Prolog (which we will discuss in Section 4.4). After sufficient frustration 
+with automatic search, McDermott and Sussman (1972) developed a language called 
+Conniver, which included mechanisms for placing the search strategy under program- 
+mer control. This proved unwieldy, however, and Sussman and Stallman 1975 found a 
+more tractable approach while investigating methods of symbolic analysis for electrical 
+circuits. They developed a non-chronological backtracking scheme that was based on 
+
+
+
+564 
+
+
+
+Driver loop 
+
+The driver loop for the amb evaluator has some unusual properties. It 
+reads an expression and prints the value of the first non-failing execu- 
+tion, as in the prime-sum-pair example shown above. If we want to see 
+the value of the next successful execution, we can ask the interpreter to 
+backtrack and attempt to generate a second non-failing execution. This 
+is signaled by typing the symbol try-again. If any expression except 
+try-again is given, the interpreter will start a new problem, discarding 
+the unexplored alternatives in the previous problem. Here is a sample 
+interaction: 
+
+;;; Amb-Eval input: 
+
+(prime-sum-pair '(1 3 5 8) '(20 35 110)) 
+;;; Starting a new problem 
+■ ; ; Amb-Eva I value : 
+(3 20) 
+
+;;; Amb-Eval input: 
+try-again 
+
+; ; ; Amb -Eva I value : 
+
+tracing out the logical dependencies connecting facts, a technique that has come to be 
+known as dependency-directed backtracking. Although their method was complex, it pro- 
+duced reasonably efficient programs because it did little redundant search. Doyle (1979) 
+and McAllester (1978; 1980) generalized and clarified the methods of Stallman and Suss- 
+man, developing a new paradigm for formulating search that is now called truth main- 
+tenance. Modern problem-solving systems all use some form of truth-maintenance sys- 
+tem as a substrate. See Forbus and deKleer 1993 for a discussion of elegant ways to 
+build truth-maintenance systems and applications using truth maintenance. Zabih et 
+al. 1987 describes a nondeterministic extension to Scheme that is based on amb; it is 
+similar to the interpreter described in this section, but more sophisticated, because it 
+uses dependency-directed backtracking rather than chronological backtracking. Win- 
+ston 1992 gives an introduction to both kinds of backtracking. 
+
+
+
+565 
+
+
+
+(3 110) 
+
+
+
+;;; Amb-Eval input: 
+try-again 
+
+; ; ; Amb-Eva I value : 
+(8 35) 
+
+;;; Amb-Eval input: 
+try-again 
+
+;;; There are no more values of 
+
+(prime-sum-pair (quote (1 3 5 8)) (quote (20 35 110))) 
+;;; Amb-Eval input: 
+
+(prime-sum-pair '(19 27 30) '(11 36 58)) 
+;;; Starting a new problem 
+■ ; ; Amb-Eva I value : 
+(30 11) 
+
+Exercise 4.35: Write a procedure an-integer-between that 
+returns an integer between two given bounds. This can be 
+used to implement a procedure that finds Pythagorean triples, 
+i.e., triples of integers (i,j,k) between the given bounds 
+such that i < j and i 2 + j 2 = k 2 , as follows: 
+
+(define (a-pythagorean-triple-between low high) 
+(let ((i (an-integer-between low high))) 
+(let ((j (an-integer-between i high))) 
+(let ((k (an-integer-between j high))) 
+(require (= (+ (* i i) (* j j)) (* k k))) 
+(list i j k))))) 
+
+Exercise 4.36: Exercise 3.69 discussed how to generate the 
+stream of all Pythagorean triples, with no upper bound on 
+
+
+
+566 
+
+
+
+the size of the integers to be searched. Explain why simply 
+replacing an-integer-between by an-integer-starting- 
+f rom in the procedure in Exercise 4.35 is not an adequate 
+way to generate arbitrary Pythagorean triples. Write a pro- 
+cedure that actually will accomplish this. (That is, write a 
+procedure for which repeatedly typing try-again would in 
+principle eventually generate all Pythagorean triples.) 
+
+Exercise 4.37: Ben Bitdiddle claims that the following method 
+for generating Pythagorean triples is more efficient than 
+the one in Exercise 4.35. Is he correct? (Hint: Consider the 
+number of possibilities that must be explored.) 
+
+(define (a-pythagorean-triple-between low high) 
+(let ((i (an-integer-between low high)) 
+(hsq (* high high))) 
+(let ((j (an-integer-between i high))) 
+(let ((ksq (+ (* i i) (* j j)))) 
+(require (>= hsq ksq)) 
+(let ((k (sqrt ksq))) 
+(require (integer? k)) 
+(list i j k)))))) 
+
+
+
+4.3.2 Examples of Nondeterministic Programs 
+
+Section 4.3.3 describes the implementation of the amb evaluator. First, 
+however, we give some examples of how it can be used. The advantage 
+of nondeterministic programming is that we can suppress the details of 
+how search is carried out, thereby expressing our programs at a higher 
+level of abstraction. 
+
+
+
+567 
+
+
+
+Logic Puzzles 
+
+The following puzzle (taken from Dinesman 1968) is typical of a large 
+class of simple logic puzzles: 
+
+Baker, Cooper, Fletcher, Miller, and Smith live on differ- 
+ent floors of an apartment house that contains only five 
+floors. Baker does not live on the top floor. Cooper does 
+not live on the bottom floor. Fletcher does not live on ei- 
+ther the top or the bottom floor. Miller lives on a higher 
+floor than does Cooper. Smith does not live on a floor adja- 
+cent to Fletcher's. Fletcher does not live on a floor adjacent 
+to Cooper's. Where does everyone live? 
+
+We can determine who lives on each floor in a straightforward way by 
+enumerating all the possibilities and imposing the given restrictions: 48 
+
+(define (multiple-dwelling) 
+
+(let ((baker (amb 12 3 4 5)) (cooper (amb 12345)) 
+(fletcher (amb 12 3 4 5)) (miller (amb 12345)) 
+(smith (amb 12 3 4 5))) 
+(require 
+
+(distinct? (list baker cooper fletcher miller smith))) 
+(require (not (= baker 5))) 
+
+48 Our program uses the following procedure to determine if the elements of a list 
+are distinct: 
+
+(define (distinct? items) 
+(cond ((null? items) true) 
+
+((null? (cdr items)) true) 
+
+((member (car items) (cdr items)) false) 
+
+(else (distinct? (cdr items))))) 
+
+Member is like memq except that it uses equal? instead of eq? to test for equality. 
+
+
+
+568 
+
+
+
+(require (not (= cooper 1))) 
+(require (not (= fletcher 5))) 
+(require (not (= fletcher 1))) 
+(require (> miller cooper)) 
+
+(require (not (= (abs (- smith fletcher)) 1))) 
+(require (not (= (abs (- fletcher cooper)) 1))) 
+(list (list 'baker baker) (list 'cooper cooper) 
+
+(list 'fletcher fletcher) (list 'miller miller) 
+
+(list 'smith smith)))) 
+
+Evaluating the expression (multiple-dwelling) produces the result 
+
+((baker 3) (cooper 2) (fletcher 4) (miller 5) (smith 1)) 
+
+Although this simple procedure works, it is very slow. Exercise 4.39 and 
+Exercise 4.40 discuss some possible improvements. 
+
+Exercise 4.38: Modify the multiple-dwelling procedure to 
+omit the requirement that Smith and Fletcher do not live 
+on adjacent floors. How many solutions are there to this 
+modified puzzle? 
+
+Exercise 4.39: Does the order of the restrictions in the multiple- 
+dwelling procedure affect the answer? Does it affect the 
+time to find an answer? If you think it matters, demonstrate 
+a faster program obtained from the given one by reordering 
+the restrictions. If you think it does not matter, argue your 
+case. 
+
+Exercise 4.40: In the multiple dwelling problem, how many 
+sets of assignments are there of people to floors, both be- 
+fore and after the requirement that floor assignments be 
+distinct? It is very inefficient to generate all possible assign- 
+ments of people to floors and then leave it to backtracking 
+
+
+
+569 
+
+
+
+to eliminate them. For example, most of the restrictions de- 
+pend on only one or two of the person-floor variables, and 
+can thus be imposed before floors have been selected for 
+all the people. Write and demonstrate a much more effi- 
+cient nondeterministic procedure that solves this problem 
+based upon generating only those possibilities that are not 
+already ruled out by previous restrictions. (Hint: This will 
+require a nest of let expressions.) 
+
+Exercise 4.4 T : Write an ordinary Scheme program to solve 
+the multiple dwelling puzzle. 
+
+Exercise 4.42: Solve the following "Liars" puzzle (from Phillips 
+1934): 
+
+Five schoolgirls sat for an examination. Their parents— so 
+they thought— showed an undue degree of interest in the 
+result. They therefore agreed that, in writing home about 
+the examination, each girl should make one true statement 
+and one untrue one. The following are the relevant passages 
+from their letters: 
+
+• Betty: "Kitty was second in the examination. I was 
+only third." 
+
+• Ethel: "You'll be glad to hear that I was on top. Joan 
+was 2nd." 
+
+• Joan: "I was third, and poor old Ethel was bottom." 
+
+• Kitty: "I came out second. Mary was only fourth." 
+
+• Mary: "I was fourth. Top place was taken by Betty." 
+
+
+
+570 
+
+
+
+What in fact was the order in which the five girls were 
+placed? 
+
+Exercise 4.43: Use the amb evaluator to solve the following 
+puzzle: 49 
+
+Mary Ann Moore's father has a yacht and so has each of 
+his four friends: Colonel Downing, Mr. Hall, Sir Barnacle 
+Hood, and Dr. Parker. Each of the five also has one daugh- 
+ter and each has named his yacht after a daughter of one of 
+the others. Sir Barnacle's yacht is the Gabrielle, Mr. Moore 
+owns the Lorna; Mr. Hall the Rosalind. The Melissa, owned 
+by Colonel Downing, is named after Sir Barnacle's daugh- 
+ter. Gabrielle's father owns the yacht that is named after 
+Dr. Parker's daughter. Who is Lorna's father? 
+
+Try to write the program so that it runs efficiently (see Ex- 
+ercise 4.40). Also determine how many solutions there are 
+if we are not told that Mary Ann's last name is Moore. 
+
+Exercise 4.44: Exercise 2.42 described the "eight-queens 
+puzzle" of placing queens on a chessboard so that no two at- 
+tack each other. Write a nondeterministic program to solve 
+this puzzle. 
+
+Parsing natural language 
+
+Programs designed to accept natural language as input usually start by 
+attempting to parse the input, that is, to match the input against some 
+grammatical structure. For example, we might try to recognize simple 
+
+49 This is taken from a booklet called "Problematical Recreations," published in the 
+1960s by Litton Industries, where it is attributed to the Kansas State Engineer. 
+
+
+
+571 
+
+
+
+sentences consisting of an article followed by a noun followed by a verb, 
+such as "The cat eats." To accomplish such an analysis, we must be able 
+to identify the parts of speech of individual words. We could start with 
+some lists that classify various words: 50 
+
+(define nouns '(noun student professor cat class)) 
+(define verbs '(verb studies lectures eats sleeps)) 
+(define articles '(article the a)) 
+
+We also need a grammar, that is, a set of rules describing how gram- 
+matical elements are composed from simpler elements. A very simple 
+grammar might stipulate that a sentence always consists of two pieces— 
+a noun phrase followed by a verb— and that a noun phrase consists of 
+an article followed by a noun. With this grammar, the sentence "The cat 
+eats" is parsed as follows: 
+
+(sentence (noun-phrase (article the) (noun cat)) 
+(verb eats)) 
+
+We can generate such a parse with a simple program that has separate 
+procedures for each of the grammatical rules. To parse a sentence, we 
+identify its two constituent pieces and return a list of these two ele- 
+ments, tagged with the symbol sentence: 
+
+(define (parse-sentence) 
+(list 'sentence 
+
+(parse-noun-phrase) 
+(parse-word verbs))) 
+
+A noun phrase, similarly, is parsed by finding an article followed by a 
+noun: 
+
+50 Here we use the convention that the first element of each list designates the part 
+of speech for the rest of the words in the list. 
+
+
+
+572 
+
+
+
+(define (parse-noun-phrase) 
+(list 'noun-phrase 
+
+(parse-word articles) 
+(parse-word nouns))) 
+
+At the lowest level, parsing boils down to repeatedly checking that the 
+next unparsed word is a member of the list of words for the required part 
+of speech. To implement this, we maintain a global variable *unpa r sed*, 
+which is the input that has not yet been parsed. Each time we check a 
+word, we require that *unparsed* must be non-empty and that it should 
+begin with a word from the designated list. If so, we remove that word 
+from *unparsed* and return the word together with its part of speech 
+(which is found at the head of the list): 51 
+
+(define (parse-word word-list) 
+
+(require (not (null? *unparsed*) ) ) 
+
+(require (memq (car *unparsed*) (cdr word-list))) 
+
+(let ((found-word (car *unparsed*))) 
+
+(set! *unparsed* (cdr *unparsed*)) 
+
+(list (car word-list) found-word))) 
+
+To start the parsing, all we need to do is set *unparsed* to be the entire 
+input, try to parse a sentence, and check that nothing is left over: 
+
+(define *unparsed* '()) 
+(define (parse input) 
+
+(set! *unparsed* input) 
+
+(let ((sent (parse-sentence))) 
+
+(require (null? *unparsed*)) sent)) 
+
+We can now try the parser and verify that it works for our simple test 
+sentence: 
+
+51 Notice that parse-word uses set! to modify the unparsed input list. For this to 
+work, our amb evaluator must undo the effects of set ! operations when it backtracks. 
+
+
+
+573 
+
+
+
+;;; Amb-Eval input: 
+(parse '(the cat eats)) 
+;;; Starting a new problem 
+; ; ; Amb-Eva I value : 
+
+(sentence (noun-phrase (article the) (noun cat)) (verb eats)) 
+
+The amb evaluator is useful here because it is convenient to express 
+the parsing constraints with the aid of require. Automatic search and 
+backtracking really pay off, however, when we consider more complex 
+grammars where there are choices for how the units can be decom- 
+posed. 
+
+Let's add to our grammar a list of prepositions: 
+(define prepositions '(prep for to in by with)) 
+
+and define a prepositional phrase (e.g., "for the cat") to be a preposition 
+followed by a noun phrase: 
+
+(define (parse-prepositional -phrase) 
+(list 'prep-phrase 
+
+(parse-word prepositions) 
+(parse-noun-phrase))) 
+
+Now we can define a sentence to be a noun phrase followed by a verb 
+phrase, where a verb phrase can be either a verb or a verb phrase ex- 
+tended by a prepositional phrase: 52 
+
+(define (parse-sentence) 
+
+(list 'sentence (parse-noun-phrase) (parse-verb-phrase))) 
+(define (parse-verb-phrase) 
+
+(define (maybe-extend verb-phrase) 
+(amb verb-phrase 
+
+52 Observe that this definition is recursive— a verb may be followed by any number 
+of prepositional phrases. 
+
+
+
+574 
+
+
+
+(maybe-extend 
+(list 'verb-phrase 
+verb-phrase 
+
+(parse-prepositional -phrase))))) 
+(maybe-extend (parse-word verbs))) 
+
+While we're at it, we can also elaborate the definition of noun phrases 
+to permit such things as "a cat in the class." What we used to call a 
+noun phrase, we'll now call a simple noun phrase, and a noun phrase 
+will now be either a simple noun phrase or a noun phrase extended by 
+a prepositional phrase: 
+
+(define (parse-simple-noun-phrase) 
+(list 'simple-noun-phrase 
+
+(parse-word articles) 
+(parse-word nouns))) 
+(define (parse-noun-phrase) 
+
+(define (maybe-extend noun-phrase) 
+(amb noun-phrase 
+(maybe-extend 
+(list 'noun-phrase 
+noun-phrase 
+
+(parse-prepositional -phrase))))) 
+(maybe-extend (parse-simple-noun-phrase))) 
+
+Our new grammar lets us parse more complex sentences. For example 
+
+(parse '(the student with the cat sleeps in the class)) 
+produces 
+
+(sentence 
+(noun-phrase 
+
+(simple-noun-phrase (article the) (noun student)) 
+(prep-phrase 
+(prep with) 
+
+
+
+575 
+
+
+
+(simple-noun-phrase (article the) (noun cat)))) 
+(verb-phrase 
+(verb sleeps) 
+(prep-phrase 
+
+(prep in) 
+
+(simple-noun-phrase (article the) (noun class))))) 
+
+Observe that a given input may have more than one legal parse. In the 
+sentence "The professor lectures to the student with the cat," it may be 
+that the professor is lecturing with the cat, or that the student has the 
+cat. Our nondeterministic program finds both possibilities: 
+
+(parse '(the professor lectures to the student with the cat)) 
+
+produces 
+
+(sentence 
+
+(simple-noun-phrase (article the) (noun professor)) 
+(verb-phrase 
+(verb-phrase 
+(verb lectures) 
+(prep-phrase 
+(prep to) 
+
+(simple-noun-phrase (article the) (noun student)))) 
+(prep-phrase 
+(prep with) 
+
+(simple-noun-phrase (article the) (noun cat))))) 
+Asking the evaluator to try again yields 
+(sentence 
+
+(simple-noun-phrase (article the) (noun professor)) 
+(verb-phrase 
+
+(verb lectures) 
+
+(prep-phrase 
+(prep to) 
+
+
+
+576 
+
+
+
+(noun-phrase 
+
+(simple-noun-phrase (article the) (noun student)) 
+(prep-phrase 
+(prep with) 
+
+(simple-noun-phrase (article the) (noun cat))))))) 
+
+
+
+Exercise 4.45: With the grammar given above, the follow- 
+ing sentence can be parsed in five different ways: "The pro- 
+fessor lectures to the student in the class with the cat." Give 
+the five parses and explain the differences in shades of mean- 
+ing among them. 
+
+Exercise 4.46: The evaluators in Section 4.1 and Section 4.2 
+do not determine what order operands are evaluated in. We 
+will see that the amb evaluator evaluates them from left to 
+right. Explain why our parsing program wouldn't work if 
+the operands were evaluated in some other order. 
+
+Exercise 4.47: Louis Reasoner suggests that, since a verb 
+phrase is either a verb or a verb phrase followed by a prepo- 
+sitional phrase, it would be much more straightforward to 
+define the procedure parse-verb-phrase as follows (and 
+similarly for noun phrases): 
+
+(define (parse-verb-phrase) 
+(amb (parse-word verbs) 
+(list 'verb-phrase 
+
+(parse-verb-phrase) 
+(parse-prepositional-phrase)))) 
+
+Does this work? Does the program's behavior change if we 
+interchange the order of expressions in the amb? 
+
+
+
+577 
+
+
+
+Exercise 4.48: Extend the grammar given above to handle 
+more complex sentences. For example, you could extend 
+noun phrases and verb phrases to include adjectives and 
+adverbs, or you could handle compound sentences. 53 
+
+Exercise 4.49: Alyssa P. Hacker is more interested in gen- 
+erating interesting sentences than in parsing them. She rea- 
+sons that by simply changing the procedure parse-word so 
+that it ignores the "input sentence" and instead always suc- 
+ceeds and generates an appropriate word, we can use the 
+programs we had built for parsing to do generation instead. 
+Implement Alyssa's idea, and show the first half-dozen or 
+so sentences generated. 54 
+
+4.3.3 Implementing the Amb Evaluator 
+
+The evaluation of an ordinary Scheme expression may return a value, 
+may never terminate, or may signal an error. In nondeterministic Scheme 
+the evaluation of an expression may in addition result in the discovery 
+of a dead end, in which case evaluation must backtrack to a previous 
+
+53 This kind of grammar can become arbitrarily complex, but it is only a toy as 
+far as real language understanding is concerned. Real natural-language understand- 
+ing by computer requires an elaborate mixture of syntactic analysis and interpretation 
+of meaning. On the other hand, even toy parsers can be useful in supporting flexi- 
+ble command languages for programs such as information-retrieval systems. Winston 
+1992 discusses computational approaches to real language understanding and also the 
+applications of simple grammars to command languages. 
+
+54 Although Alyssa's idea works just fine (and is surprisingly simple), the sentences 
+that it generates are a bit boring— they don't sample the possible sentences of this lan- 
+guage in a very interesting way. In fact, the grammar is highly recursive in many places, 
+and Alyssa's technique "falls into" one of these recursions and gets stuck. See Exercise 
+4.50 for a way to deal with this. 
+
+
+
+578 
+
+
+
+choice point. The interpretation of nondeterministic Scheme is compli- 
+cated by this extra case. 
+
+We will construct the amb evaluator for nondeterministic Scheme by 
+modifying the analyzing evaluator of Section 4. 1.7. 55 As in the analyz- 
+ing evaluator, evaluation of an expression is accomplished by calling an 
+execution procedure produced by analysis of that expression. The dif- 
+ference between the interpretation of ordinary Scheme and the inter- 
+pretation of nondeterministic Scheme will be entirely in the execution 
+procedures. 
+
+Execution procedures and continuations 
+
+Recall that the execution procedures for the ordinary evaluator take one 
+argument: the environment of execution. In contrast, the execution pro- 
+cedures in the amb evaluator take three arguments: the environment, 
+and two procedures called continuation procedures. The evaluation of 
+an expression will finish by calling one of these two continuations: If 
+the evaluation results in a value, the success continuation is called with 
+that value; if the evaluation results in the discovery of a dead end, the 
+failure continuation is called. Constructing and calling appropriate con- 
+tinuations is the mechanism by which the nondeterministic evaluator 
+implements backtracking. 
+
+It is the job of the success continuation to receive a value and pro- 
+ceed with the computation. Along with that value, the success contin- 
+uation is passed another failure continuation, which is to be called sub- 
+sequently if the use of that value leads to a dead end. 
+
+55 We chose to implement the lazy evaluator in Section 4.2 as a modification of the 
+ordinary metacircular evaluator of Section 4.1.1. In contrast, we will base the amb eval- 
+uator on the analyzing evaluator of Section 4.1.7, because the execution procedures in 
+that evaluator provide a convenient framework for implementing backtracking. 
+
+
+
+579 
+
+
+
+It is the job of the failure continuation to try another branch of the 
+nondeterministic process. The essence of the nondeterministic language 
+is in the fact that expressions may represent choices among alternatives. 
+The evaluation of such an expression must proceed with one of the indi- 
+cated alternative choices, even though it is not known in advance which 
+choices will lead to acceptable results. To deal with this, the evaluator 
+picks one of the alternatives and passes this value to the success con- 
+tinuation. Together with this value, the evaluator constructs and passes 
+along a failure continuation that can be called later to choose a different 
+alternative. 
+
+A failure is triggered during evaluation (that is, a failure continua- 
+tion is called) when a user program explicitly rejects the current line of 
+attack (for example, a call to requi re may result in execution of (amb), 
+an expression that always fails— see Section 4.3.1). The failure continu- 
+ation in hand at that point will cause the most recent choice point to 
+choose another alternative. If there are no more alternatives to be con- 
+sidered at that choice point, a failure at an earlier choice point is trig- 
+gered, and so on. Failure continuations are also invoked by the driver 
+loop in response to a try-again request, to find another value of the 
+expression. 
+
+In addition, if a side-effect operation (such as assignment to a vari- 
+able) occurs on a branch of the process resulting from a choice, it may be 
+necessary, when the process finds a dead end, to undo the side effect be- 
+fore making a new choice. This is accomplished by having the side-effect 
+operation produce a failure continuation that undoes the side effect and 
+propagates the failure. 
+
+In summary, failure continuations are constructed by 
+
+• amb expressions— to provide a mechanism to make alternative choices 
+if the current choice made by the amb expression leads to a dead 
+end; 
+
+580 
+
+
+
+• the top-level driver— to provide a mechanism to report failure 
+when the choices are exhausted; 
+
+• assignments— to intercept failures and undo assignments during 
+backtracking. 
+
+Failures are initiated only when a dead end is encountered. This occurs 
+
+• if the user program executes (amb); 
+
+• if the user types try-again at the top-level driver. 
+
+Failure continuations are also called during processing of a failure: 
+
+• When the failure continuation created by an assignment finishes 
+undoing a side effect, it calls the failure continuation it inter- 
+cepted, in order to propagate the failure back to the choice point 
+that led to this assignment or to the top level. 
+
+• When the failure continuation for an amb runs out of choices, it 
+calls the failure continuation that was originally given to the amb, 
+in order to propagate the failure back to the previous choice point 
+or to the top level. 
+
+Structure of the evaluator 
+
+The syntax- and data-representation procedures for the amb evaluator, 
+and also the basic analyze procedure, are identical to those in the eval- 
+uator of Section 4.1.7, except for the fact that we need additional syntax 
+procedures to recognize the amb special form: 56 
+
+56 We assume that the evaluator supports let (see Exercise 4.22), which we have used 
+in our nondeterministic programs. 
+
+
+
+581 
+
+
+
+(define (amb? exp) (tagged-list? exp 'amb)) 
+(define (amb-choices exp) (cdr exp)) 
+
+We must also add to the dispatch in analyze a clause that will recognize 
+this special form and generate an appropriate execution procedure: 
+
+((amb? exp) (analyze-amb exp)) 
+
+The top-level procedure ambeval (similar to the version of eval given 
+in Section 4.1.7) analyzes the given expression and applies the resulting 
+execution procedure to the given environment, together with two given 
+continuations: 
+
+(define (ambeval exp env succeed fail) 
+((analyze exp) env succeed fail)) 
+
+A success continuation is a procedure of two arguments: the value just 
+obtained and another failure continuation to be used if that value leads 
+to a subsequent failure. A failure continuation is a procedure of no ar- 
+guments. So the general form of an execution procedure is 
+
+(lambda (env succeed fail) 
+
+;; succeed is (lambda (value fail) . . .) 
+
+;; fail is (lambda () . . .) 
+
+...) 
+
+For example, executing 
+
+(ambeval (exp) 
+
+t he-global-environment 
+(lambda (value fail) value) 
+(lambda () 'failed)) 
+
+will attempt to evaluate the given expression and will return either the 
+expression's value (if the evaluation succeeds) or the symbol failed (if 
+the evaluation fails). The call to ambeval in the driver loop shown below 
+
+
+
+582 
+
+
+
+uses much more complicated continuation procedures, which continue 
+the loop and support the try-again request. 
+
+Most of the complexity of the amb evaluator results from the me- 
+chanics of passing the continuations around as the execution proce- 
+dures call each other. In going through the following code, you should 
+compare each of the execution procedures with the corresponding pro- 
+cedure for the ordinary evaluator given in Section 4.1.7. 
+
+Simple expressions 
+
+The execution procedures for the simplest kinds of expressions are es- 
+sentially the same as those for the ordinary evaluator, except for the 
+need to manage the continuations. The execution procedures simply 
+succeed with the value of the expression, passing along the failure con- 
+tinuation that was passed to them. 
+
+(define (analyze-self-evaluating exp) 
+(lambda (env succeed fail) 
+(succeed exp fail))) 
+(define (analyze-quoted exp) 
+
+(let ((qval (text-of-quotation exp))) 
+(lambda (env succeed fail) 
+(succeed qval fail)))) 
+(define (analyze-variable exp) 
+(lambda (env succeed fail) 
+
+(succeed (lookup-variable-value exp env) fail))) 
+(define (analyze-lambda exp) 
+
+(let ((vars (lambda-parameters exp)) 
+
+(bproc (analyze-sequence (lambda-body exp)))) 
+(lambda (env succeed fail) 
+
+(succeed (make-procedure vars bproc env) fail)))) 
+
+
+
+583 
+
+
+
+Notice that looking up a variable always 'succeeds.' If lookup-variable- 
+value fails to find the variable, it signals an error, as usual. Such a "fail- 
+ure" indicates a program bug— a reference to an unbound variable; it is 
+not an indication that we should try another nondeterministic choice 
+instead of the one that is currently being tried. 
+
+Conditionals and sequences 
+
+Conditionals are also handled in a similar way as in the ordinary eval- 
+uator. The execution procedure generated by analyze-if invokes the 
+predicate execution procedure pproc with a success continuation that 
+checks whether the predicate value is true and goes on to execute ei- 
+ther the consequent or the alternative. If the execution of pproc fails, 
+the original failure continuation for the if expression is called. 
+
+(define (analyze-if exp) 
+
+(let ((pproc (analyze (if-predicate exp))) 
+(cproc (analyze (if-consequent exp))) 
+(aproc (analyze (if-alternative exp)))) 
+(lambda (env succeed fail) 
+(pproc env 
+
+;; success continuation for evaluating the predicate 
+;; to obtain pred-value 
+(lambda (pred-value fail2) 
+(if (true? pred-value) 
+
+(cproc env succeed fail2) 
+
+(aproc env succeed fail2))) 
+;; failure continuation for evaluating the predicate 
+fail)))) 
+
+Sequences are also handled in the same way as in the previous evaluator, 
+except for the machinations in the subprocedure sequentially that are 
+required for passing the continuations. Namely, to sequentially execute 
+
+
+
+584 
+
+
+
+a and then b, we call a with a success continuation that calls b. 
+
+(define (analyze-sequence exps) 
+(define (sequentially a b) 
+(lambda (env succeed fail) 
+(a env 
+
+;; success continuation for calling a 
+(lambda (a-value fail2) 
+
+(b env succeed fail2)) 
+;; failure continuation for calling a 
+fail))) 
+
+(define (loop first-proc rest-procs) 
+(if (null? rest-procs) 
+first-proc 
+
+(loop (sequentially first-proc 
+
+(car rest-procs)) 
+(cdr rest-procs)))) 
+(let ((procs (map analyze exps))) 
+(if (null? procs) 
+
+(error "Empty sequence: ANALYZE")) 
+(loop (car procs) (cdr procs)))) 
+
+Definitions and assignments 
+
+Definitions are another case where we must go to some trouble to man- 
+age the continuations, because it is necessary to evaluate the definition- 
+value expression before actually defining the new variable. To accom- 
+plish this, the definition-value execution procedure vproc is called with 
+the environment, a success continuation, and the failure continuation. 
+If the execution of vproc succeeds, obtaining a value val for the defined 
+variable, the variable is defined and the success is propagated: 
+
+(define (analyze-def inition exp) 
+
+
+
+585 
+
+
+
+(let ((var (definition-variable exp)) 
+
+(vproc (analyze (definition-value exp)))) 
+(lambda (env succeed fail) 
+(vproc env 
+
+(lambda (val fail2) 
+
+(def ine-variable ! var val env) 
+(succeed 'ok fail2)) 
+fail)))) 
+
+Assignments are more interesting. This is the first place where we really 
+use the continuations, rather than just passing them around. The exe- 
+cution procedure for assignments starts out like the one for definitions. 
+It first attempts to obtain the new value to be assigned to the variable. 
+If this evaluation of vproc fails, the assignment fails. 
+
+If vproc succeeds, however, and we go on to make the assignment, 
+we must consider the possibility that this branch of the computation 
+might later fail, which will require us to backtrack out of the assign- 
+ment. Thus, we must arrange to undo the assignment as part of the 
+backtracking process. 57 
+
+This is accomplished by giving vproc a success continuation (marked 
+with the comment "*]*" below) that saves the old value of the variable 
+before assigning the new value to the variable and proceeding from the 
+assignment. The failure continuation that is passed along with the value 
+of the assignment (marked with the comment "*2*" below) restores the 
+old value of the variable before continuing the failure. That is, a suc- 
+cessful assignment provides a failure continuation that will intercept a 
+subsequent failure; whatever failure would otherwise have called f ai 12 
+calls this procedure instead, to undo the assignment before actually call- 
+ing fail2. 
+
+57 We didn't worry about undoing definitions, since we can assume that internal def- 
+initions are scanned out (Section 4.1.6). 
+
+
+
+586 
+
+
+
+(define (analyze-assignment exp) 
+
+(let ((var (assignment-variable exp)) 
+
+(vproc (analyze (assignment-value exp)))) 
+(lambda (env succeed fail) 
+(vproc env 
+
+(lambda (val fail2) ; *1* 
+
+(let ((old-value 
+
+(lookup-variable-value var env))) 
+(set-variable-value! var val env) 
+(succeed 'ok 
+
+(lambda () ; *2* 
+(set-vari able- value ! 
+var old-value env) 
+(fail2))))) 
+
+fail)))) 
+
+
+
+Procedure applications 
+
+The execution procedure for applications contains no new ideas except 
+for the technical complexity of managing the continuations. This com- 
+plexity arises in analyze-application, due to the need to keep track of 
+the success and failure continuations as we evaluate the operands. We 
+use a procedure get-args to evaluate the list of operands, rather than 
+a simple map as in the ordinary evaluator. 
+
+(define (analyze-application exp) 
+
+(let ((fproc (analyze (operator exp))) 
+
+(aprocs (map analyze (operands exp)))) 
+(lambda (env succeed fail) 
+(fproc env 
+
+(lambda (proc fail2) 
+(get-args aprocs 
+env 
+
+
+
+587 
+
+
+
+(lambda (args fail3) 
+(execute-application 
+proc args succeed fail3)) 
+fail2)) 
+
+fail)))) 
+
+In get-args, notice how cdr-ing down the list of aproc execution pro- 
+cedures and con sing up the resulting list of args is accomplished by 
+calling each aproc in the list with a success continuation that recur- 
+sively calls get-args. Each of these recursive calls to get-args has a 
+success continuation whose value is the cons of the newly obtained ar- 
+gument onto the list of accumulated arguments: 
+
+(define (get-args aprocs env succeed fail) 
+(if (null? aprocs) 
+
+(succeed '() fail) 
+((car aprocs) 
+env 
+
+; ; success continuation for this aproc 
+(lambda (arg fail2) 
+(get-args 
+
+(cdr aprocs) 
+
+env 
+
+; / success continuation for 
+; /recursive call to get-args 
+(lambda (args fail3) 
+
+(succeed (cons arg args) fail3)) 
+fail2)) 
+fail))) 
+
+The actual pr oce dure application, which is performed by execute-appli- 
+cation, is accomplished in the same way as for the ordinary evaluator, 
+except for the need to manage the continuations. 
+
+
+
+588 
+
+
+
+(define (execute-application proc args succeed fail) 
+(cond ((primitive-procedure? proc) 
+
+(succeed (apply-primitive-procedure proc args) 
+fail)) 
+
+((compound-procedure? proc) 
+((procedure-body proc) 
+(extend-environment 
+(procedure-parameters proc) 
+args 
+
+(procedure-environment proc)) 
+succeed 
+fail)) 
+(else 
+
+(error "Unknown procedure type: EXECUTE-APPLICATION" 
+proc)))) 
+
+
+
+Evaluating amb expressions 
+
+The amb special form is the key element in the nondeterministic lan- 
+guage. Here we see the essence of the interpretation process and the 
+reason for keeping track of the continuations. The execution procedure 
+for amb defines a loop try-next that cycles through the execution pro- 
+cedures for all the possible values of the amb expression. Each execution 
+procedure is called with a failure continuation that will try the next one. 
+When there are no more alternatives to try the entire amb expression 
+fails. 
+
+(define (analyze-amb exp) 
+
+(let ((cprocs (map analyze (amb-choices exp)))) 
+(lambda (env succeed fail) 
+(define (try-next choices) 
+(if (null? choices) 
+(fail) 
+
+
+
+589 
+
+
+
+((car choices) 
+env 
+
+succeed 
+
+(lambda () (try-next (cdr choices)))))) 
+(try-next cprocs)))) 
+
+Driver loop 
+
+The driver loop for the amb evaluator is complex, due to the mecha- 
+nism that permits the user to try again in evaluating an expression. The 
+driver uses a procedure called internal -loop, which takes as argument 
+a procedure try-again. The intent is that calling try-again should go 
+on to the next untried alternative in the nondeterministic evaluation. 
+Internal-loop either calls try-again in response to the user typing 
+try-again at the driver loop, or else starts a new evaluation by calling 
+ambeval. 
+
+The failure continuation for this call to ambeval informs the user 
+that there are no more values and re-invokes the driver loop. 
+
+The success continuation for the call to ambeval is more subtle. 
+We print the obtained value and then invoke the internal loop again 
+with a try-again procedure that will be able to try the next alterna- 
+tive. This next-alternative procedure is the second argument that was 
+passed to the success continuation. Ordinarily, we think of this second 
+argument as a failure continuation to be used if the current evaluation 
+branch later fails. In this case, however, we have completed a successful 
+evaluation, so we can invoke the "failure" alternative branch in order to 
+search for additional successful evaluations. 
+
+(define input-prompt ";;; Amb-Eval input:") 
+(define output-prompt ";;; Amb-Eval value:") 
+
+
+
+590 
+
+
+
+(define (driver-loop) 
+
+(define (internal-loop try-again) 
+(prompt-f or-input input-prompt) 
+(let ((input (read))) 
+
+(if (eq? input 'try-again) 
+(try-again) 
+(begin 
+
+(newline) (display ";;; Starting a new problem ") 
+(ambeval 
+input 
+
+t he-global-environment 
+
+; ; ambeval success 
+
+(lambda (val next-alternative) 
+
+(announce-output output-prompt) 
+
+(user-print val) 
+
+(internal-loop next-alternative)) 
+; ; ambeval failure 
+(lambda () 
+
+(announce-output 
+
+";;; There are no more values of") 
+(user-print input) 
+(driver- loop) )))))) 
+(internal-loop 
+(lambda () 
+
+(newline) (display ";;; There is no current problem") 
+(driver-loop)))) 
+
+The initial call to internal-loop uses a try-again procedure that com- 
+plains that there is no current problem and restarts the driver loop. This 
+is the behavior that will happen if the user types try-again when there 
+is no evaluation in progress. 
+
+Exercise 4.50: Implement a new special form ramb that is 
+
+
+
+591 
+
+
+
+like amb except that it searches alternatives in a random or- 
+der, rather than from left to right. Show how this can help 
+with Alyssa's problem in Exercise 4.49. 
+
+Exercise 4.5T: Implement a new kind of assignment called 
+permanent-set! that is not undone upon failure. For ex- 
+ample, we can choose two distinct elements from a list and 
+count the number of trials required to make a successful 
+choice as follows: 
+
+(define count 0) 
+
+(let ((x (an-element-of '(a b c))) 
+(y (an-element-of '(a b c)))) 
+
+(permanent-set! count (+ count 1)) 
+
+(require (not (eq? x y))) 
+
+(list x y count)) 
+; ; ; Starting a new problem 
+; ; ; Amb-Eva I value : 
+(a b 2) 
+
+;;; Amb-Eval input: 
+try-again 
+
+; ; ; Amb-Eva I value : 
+(a c 3) 
+
+What values would have been displayed if we had used 
+set! here rather than permanent-set ! ? 
+
+Exercise 4.52: Implement a new construct called if-fail 
+that permits the user to catch the failure of an expression. 
+If -fa i 1 takes two expressions. It evaluates the first expres- 
+sion as usual and returns as usual if the evaluation suc- 
+ceeds. If the evaluation fails, however, the value of the sec- 
+ond expression is returned, as in the following example: 
+
+
+
+592 
+
+
+
+; ; ; Amb-Eval input: 
+
+(if-fail (let ((x (an-element-of '(1 3 5)))) 
+(require (even? x)) 
+x) 
+
+'all-odd) 
+
+; ; ; Starting a new problem 
+; ; ; Amb-Eva I value : 
+all -odd 
+
+;;; Amb-Eval input: 
+
+(if-fail (let ((x (an-element-of '(135 8)))) 
+(require (even? x)) 
+x) 
+
+'all-odd) 
+
+; ; ; Starting a new problem 
+
+; ; ; Amb-Eva I value : 
+
+8 
+
+Exercise 4.53: With permanent-set ! as described in Exer- 
+cise 4.51 and if-fail as in Exercise 4.52, what will be the 
+result of evaluating 
+
+(let ((pairs '())) 
+(if-fail 
+
+(let ((p (prime-sum-pair '(1 3 5 8) 
+
+'(20 35 110)))) 
+
+(permanent-set! pairs (cons p pairs)) 
+
+(amb)) 
+pairs)) 
+
+Exercise 4.54: If we had not realized that require could be 
+implemented as an ordinary procedure that uses amb, to be 
+defined by the user as part of a nondeterministic program, 
+
+
+
+593 
+
+
+
+we would have had to implement it as a special form. This 
+would require syntax procedures 
+
+(define (require? exp) 
+
+(tagged-list? exp 'require)) 
+(define (require-predicate exp) 
+
+(cadr exp)) 
+
+and a new clause in the dispatch in analyze 
+
+((require? exp) (analyze-require exp)) 
+
+as well the procedure analyze- requ i re that handles requ i re 
+expressions. Complete the following definition of analyze- 
+require. 
+
+(define (analyze-require exp) 
+
+(let ((pproc (analyze (require-predicate exp)))) 
+(lambda (env succeed fail) 
+(pproc env 
+
+(lambda (pred-value fail2) 
+(if <??) 
+<??) 
+
+(succeed 'ok fail2))) 
+fail)))) 
+
+
+
+4.4 Logic Programming 
+
+In Chapter 1 we stressed that computer science deals with imperative 
+(how to) knowledge, whereas mathematics deals with declarative (what 
+is) knowledge. Indeed, programming languages require that the pro- 
+grammer express knowledge in a form that indicates the step-by-step 
+methods for solving particular problems. On the other hand, high-level 
+
+
+
+594 
+
+
+
+languages provide, as part of the language implementation, a substantial 
+amount of methodological knowledge that frees the user from concern 
+with numerous details of how a specified computation will progress. 
+
+Most programming languages, including Lisp, are organized around 
+computing the values of mathematical functions. Expression-oriented 
+languages (such as Lisp, Fortran, and Algol) capitalize on the "pun" that 
+an expression that describes the value of a function may also be inter- 
+preted as a means of computing that value. Because of this, most pro- 
+gramming languages are strongly biased toward unidirectional compu- 
+tations (computations with well-defined inputs and outputs). There are, 
+however, radically different programming languages that relax this bias. 
+We saw one such example in Section 3.3.5, where the objects of compu- 
+tation were arithmetic constraints. In a constraint system the direction 
+and the order of computation are not so well specified; in carrying out a 
+computation the system must therefore provide more detailed "how to" 
+knowledge than would be the case with an ordinary arithmetic compu- 
+tation. This does not mean, however, that the user is released altogether 
+from the responsibility of providing imperative knowledge. There are 
+many constraint networks that implement the same set of constraints, 
+and the user must choose from the set of mathematically equivalent 
+networks a suitable network to specify a particular computation. 
+
+The nondeterministic program evaluator of Section 4.3 also moves 
+away from the view that programming is about constructing algorithms 
+for computing unidirectional functions. In a nondeterministic language, 
+expressions can have more than one value, and, as a result, the compu- 
+tation is dealing with relations rather than with single-valued functions. 
+Logic programming extends this idea by combining a relational vision 
+of programming with a powerful kind of symbolic pattern matching 
+
+
+
+595 
+
+
+
+called unification. 58 
+
+This approach, when it works, can be a very powerful way to write 
+programs. Part of the power comes from the fact that a single "what is" 
+fact can be used to solve a number of different problems that would have 
+different "how to" components. As an example, consider the append op- 
+eration, which takes two lists as arguments and combines their elements 
+to form a single list. In a procedural language such as Lisp, we could 
+define append in terms of the basic list constructor cons, as we did in 
+Section 2.2.1: 
+
+
+
+Logic programming has grown out of a long history of research in automatic the- 
+orem proving. Early theorem-proving programs could accomplish very little, because 
+they exhaustively searched the space of possible proofs. The major breakthrough that 
+made such a search plausible was the discovery in the early 1960s of the unification 
+algorithm and the resolution principle (Robinson 1965). Resolution was used, for exam- 
+ple, by Green and Raphael (1968) (see also Green 1969) as the basis for a deductive 
+question-answering system. During most of this period, researchers concentrated on 
+algorithms that are guaranteed to find a proof if one exists. Such algorithms were dif- 
+ficult to control and to direct toward a proof. Hewitt (1969) recognized the possibility 
+of merging the control structure of a programming language with the operations of a 
+logic-manipulation system, leading to the work in automatic search mentioned in Sec- 
+tion 4.3.1 (Footnote 4.47). At the same time that this was being done, Colmerauer, in 
+Marseille, was developing rule-based systems for manipulating natural language (see 
+Colmerauer et al. 1973). He invented a programming language called Prolog for repre- 
+senting those rules. Kowalski (1973; 1979), in Edinburgh, recognized that execution of 
+a Prolog program could be interpreted as proving theorems (using a proof technique 
+called linear Horn-clause resolution). The merging of the last two strands led to the 
+logic-programming movement. Thus, in assigning credit for the development of logic 
+programming, the French can point to Prolog's genesis at the University of Marseille, 
+while the British can highlight the work at the University of Edinburgh. According to 
+people at mit, logic programming was developed by these groups in an attempt to fig- 
+ure out what Hewitt was talking about in his brilliant but impenetrable Ph.D. thesis. 
+For a history of logic programming, see Robinson 1983. 
+
+
+
+596 
+
+
+
+(define (append x y) 
+
+(if (null? x) y (cons (car x) (append (cdr x) y)))) 
+
+This procedure can be regarded as a translation into Lisp of the follow- 
+ing two rules, the first of which covers the case where the first list is 
+empty and the second of which handles the case of a nonempty list, 
+which is a cons of two parts: 
+
+• For any list y, the empty list and y append to form y. 
+
+• For any u, v, y, and z, (cons u v) and y append to form (cons u 
+z) if v and y append to form z. 59 
+
+Using the append procedure, we can answer questions such as 
+
+Find the append of (a b) and (c d). 
+
+But the same two rules are also sufficient for answering the following 
+sorts of questions, which the procedure can't answer: 
+
+Find a list y that appends with (a b) to produce (a b c d). 
+Find all x and y that append to form (a b c d). 
+
+In a logic programming language, the programmer writes an append 
+"procedure" by stating the two rules about append given above. "How 
+to" knowledge is provided automatically by the interpreter to allow this 
+
+59 To see the correspondence between the rules and the procedure, let x in the pro- 
+cedure (where x is nonempty) correspond to (cons u v) in the rule. Then z in the rule 
+corresponds to the append of (cdr x) and y. 
+
+
+
+597 
+
+
+
+single pair of rules to be used to answer all three types of questions 
+about append. 60 
+
+Contemporary logic programming languages (including the one we 
+implement here) have substantial deficiencies, in that their general "how 
+to" methods can lead them into spurious infinite loops or other unde- 
+sirable behavior. Logic programming is an active field of research in 
+computer science. 61 
+
+Earlier in this chapter we explored the technology of implementing 
+interpreters and described the elements that are essential to an inter- 
+preter for a Lisp-like language (indeed, to an interpreter for any con- 
+ventional language). Now we will apply these ideas to discuss an in- 
+terpreter for a logic programming language. We call this language the 
+query language, because it is very useful for retrieving information from 
+data bases by formulating queries, or questions, expressed in the lan- 
+guage. Even though the query language is very different from Lisp, we 
+
+60 This certainly does not relieve the user of the entire problem of how to compute 
+the answer. There are many different mathematically equivalent sets of rules for for- 
+mulating the append relation, only some of which can be turned into effective devices 
+for computing in any direction. In addition, sometimes "what is" information gives no 
+clue "how to" compute an answer. For example, consider the problem of computing the 
+y such that y 2 = x. 
+
+61 Interest in logic programming peaked during the early 80s when the Japanese gov- 
+ernment began an ambitious project aimed at building superfast computers optimized 
+to run logic programming languages. The speed of such computers was to be measured 
+in LIPS (Logical Inferences Per Second) rather than the usual FLOPS (FLoating-point 
+Operations Per Second). Although the project succeeded in developing hardware and 
+software as originally planned, the international computer industry moved in a dif- 
+ferent direction. See Feigenbaum and Shrobe 1993 for an overview evaluation of the 
+Japanese project. The logic programming community has also moved on to consider 
+relational programming based on techniques other than simple pattern matching, such 
+as the ability to deal with numerical constraints such as the ones illustrated in the 
+constraint-propagation system of Section 3.3.5. 
+
+
+
+598 
+
+
+
+will find it convenient to describe the language in terms of the same gen- 
+eral framework we have been using all along: as a collection of primitive 
+elements, together with means of combination that enable us to com- 
+bine simple elements to create more complex elements and means of ab- 
+straction that enable us to regard complex elements as single conceptual 
+units. An interpreter for a logic programming language is considerably 
+more complex than an interpreter for a language like Lisp. Neverthe- 
+less, we will see that our query-language interpreter contains many of 
+the same elements found in the interpreter of Section 4.1. In particu- 
+lar, there will be an "eval" part that classifies expressions according to 
+type and an "apply" part that implements the language's abstraction 
+mechanism (procedures in the case of Lisp, and rules in the case of logic 
+programming). Also, a central role is played in the implementation by 
+a frame data structure, which determines the correspondence between 
+symbols and their associated values. One additional interesting aspect 
+of our query-language implementation is that we make substantial use 
+of streams, which were introduced in Chapter 3. 
+
+4.4.1 Deductive Information Retrieval 
+
+Logic programming excels in providing interfaces to data bases for in- 
+formation retrieval. The query language we shall implement in this chap- 
+ter is designed to be used in this way. 
+
+In order to illustrate what the query system does, we will show how 
+it can be used to manage the data base of personnel records for Mi- 
+croshaft, a thriving high-technology company in the Boston area. The 
+language provides pattern-directed access to personnel information and 
+can also take advantage of general rules in order to make logical deduc- 
+tions. 
+
+
+
+599 
+
+
+
+A sample data base 
+
+The personnel data base for Microshaft contains assertions about com- 
+pany personnel. Here is the information about Ben Bitdiddle, the resi- 
+dent computer wizard: 
+
+(address (Bitdiddle Ben) (Slumerville (Ridge Road) 10)) 
+(job (Bitdiddle Ben) (computer wizard)) 
+(salary (Bitdiddle Ben) 60000) 
+
+Each assertion is a list (in this case a triple) whose elements can them- 
+selves be lists. 
+
+As resident wizard, Ben is in charge of the company's computer 
+division, and he supervises two programmers and one technician. Here 
+is the information about them: 
+
+(address (Hacker Alyssa P) (Cambridge (Mass Ave) 78)) 
+(job (Hacker Alyssa P) (computer programmer)) 
+(salary (Hacker Alyssa P) 40000) 
+(supervisor (Hacker Alyssa P) (Bitdiddle Ben)) 
+
+(address (Feet Cy D) (Cambridge (Ames Street) 3)) 
+(job (Feet Cy D) (computer programmer)) 
+(salary (Feet Cy D) 35000) 
+(supervisor (Feet Cy D) (Bitdiddle Ben)) 
+
+(address (Tweakit Lem E) (Boston (Bay State Road) 22)) 
+
+(job (Tweakit Lem E) (computer technician)) 
+
+(salary (Tweakit Lem E) 25000) 
+
+(supervisor (Tweakit Lem E) (Bitdiddle Ben)) 
+
+There is also a programmer trainee, who is supervised by Alyssa: 
+
+(address (Reasoner Louis) (Slumerville (Pine Tree Road) 80)) 
+(job (Reasoner Louis) (computer programmer trainee)) 
+
+
+
+600 
+
+
+
+(salary (Reasoner Louis) 30000) 
+
+(supervisor (Reasoner Louis) (Hacker Alyssa P)) 
+
+All of these people are in the computer division, as indicated by the 
+word computer as the first item in their job descriptions. 
+
+Ben is a high-level employee. His supervisor is the company's big 
+wheel himself: 
+
+(supervisor (Bitdiddle Ben) (Warbucks Oliver)) 
+(address (Warbucks Oliver) (Swellesley (Top Heap Road))) 
+(job (Warbucks Oliver) (administration big wheel)) 
+(salary (Warbucks Oliver) 150000) 
+
+Besides the computer division supervised by Ben, the company has an 
+accounting division, consisting of a chief accountant and his assistant: 
+
+(address (Scrooge Eben) (Weston (Shady Lane) 10)) 
+(job (Scrooge Eben) (accounting chief accountant)) 
+(salary (Scrooge Eben) 75000) 
+(supervisor (Scrooge Eben) (Warbucks Oliver)) 
+
+(address (Cratchet Robert) (Allston (N Harvard Street) 16)) 
+
+(job (Cratchet Robert) (accounting scrivener)) 
+
+(salary (Cratchet Robert) 18000) 
+
+(supervisor (Cratchet Robert) (Scrooge Eben)) 
+
+There is also a secretary for the big wheel: 
+
+(address (Aull DeWitt) (Slumerville (Onion Square) 5)) 
+(job (Aull DeWitt) (administration secretary)) 
+(salary (Aull DeWitt) 25000) 
+(supervisor (Aull DeWitt) (Warbucks Oliver)) 
+
+The data base also contains assertions about which kinds of jobs can be 
+done by people holding other kinds of jobs. For instance, a computer 
+
+
+
+601 
+
+
+
+wizard can do the jobs of both a computer programmer and a computer 
+technician: 
+
+(can-do-job (computer wizard) (computer programmer)) 
+(can-do-job (computer wizard) (computer technician)) 
+
+A computer programmer could fill in for a trainee: 
+
+(can-do-job (computer programmer) 
+
+(computer programmer trainee)) 
+
+Also, as is well known, 
+
+(can-do-job (administration secretary) 
+(administration big wheel)) 
+
+Simple queries 
+
+The query language allows users to retrieve information from the data 
+base by posing queries in response to the system's prompt. For example, 
+to find all computer programmers one can say 
+
+; ; ; Query input: 
+
+(job ?x (computer programmer)) 
+
+The system will respond with the following items: 
+
+; ; ; Query results: 
+
+(job (Hacker Alyssa P) (computer programmer)) 
+(job (Feet Cy D) (computer programmer)) 
+
+The input query specifies that we are looking for entries in the data base 
+that match a certain pattern. In this example, the pattern specifies en- 
+tries consisting of three items, of which the first is the literal symbol job, 
+the second can be anything, and the third is the literal list (computer 
+programmer). The "anything" that can be the second item in the match- 
+ing list is specified by a pattern variable, ?x. The general form of a pattern 
+
+
+
+602 
+
+
+
+variable is a symbol, taken to be the name of the variable, preceded by 
+a question mark. We will see below why it is useful to specify names 
+for pattern variables rather than just putting ? into patterns to repre- 
+sent "anything." The system responds to a simple query by showing all 
+entries in the data base that match the specified pattern. 
+
+A pattern can have more than one variable. For example, the query 
+
+(address ?x ?y) 
+
+will list all the employees' addresses. 
+
+A pattern can have no variables, in which case the query simply 
+determines whether that pattern is an entry in the data base. If so, there 
+will be one match; if not, there will be no matches. 
+
+The same pattern variable can appear more than once in a query, 
+specifying that the same "anything" must appear in each position. This 
+is why variables have names. For example, 
+
+(supervisor ?x ?x) 
+
+finds all people who supervise themselves (though there are no such 
+assertions in our sample data base). 
+The query 
+
+(job ?x (computer ?type)) 
+
+matches all job entries whose third item is a two-element list whose first 
+item is computer: 
+
+(job (Bitdiddle Ben) (computer wizard)) 
+(job (Hacker Alyssa P) (computer programmer)) 
+(job (Feet Cy D) (computer programmer)) 
+(job (Tweakit Lem E) (computer technician)) 
+
+This same pattern does not match 
+
+(job (Reasoner Louis) (computer programmer trainee)) 
+
+
+
+603 
+
+
+
+because the third item in the entry is a list of three elements, and the 
+pattern's third item specifies that there should be two elements. If we 
+wanted to change the pattern so that the third item could be any list 
+beginning with computer, we could specify 62 
+
+(job ?x (computer . ?type)) 
+
+For example, 
+
+(computer . ?type) 
+
+matches the data 
+
+(computer programmer trainee) 
+
+with ?type as the list (programmer trainee). It also matches the data 
+
+(computer programmer) 
+
+with ?type as the list (programmer), and matches the data 
+
+(computer) 
+
+with ?type as the empty list (). 
+
+We can describe the query language's processing of simple queries 
+as follows: 
+
+• The system finds all assignments to variables in the query pattern 
+that satisfy the pattern— that is, all sets of values for the variables 
+such that if the pattern variables are instantiated with (replaced 
+by) the values, the result is in the data base. 
+
+• The system responds to the query by listing all instantiations of 
+the query pattern with the variable assignments that satisfy it. 
+
+62 This uses the dotted-tail notation introduced in Exercise 2.20. 
+
+
+
+604 
+
+
+
+Note that if the pattern has no variables, the query reduces to a deter- 
+mination of whether that pattern is in the data base. If so, the empty 
+assignment, which assigns no values to variables, satisfies that pattern 
+for that data base. 
+
+Exercise 4.55: Give simple queries that retrieve the follow- 
+ing information from the data base: 
+
+1. all people supervised by Ben Bitdiddle; 
+
+2. the names and jobs of all people in the accounting di- 
+vision; 
+
+3. the names and addresses of all people who live in Slumerville. 
+Compound queries 
+
+Simple queries form the primitive operations of the query language. 
+In order to form compound operations, the query language provides 
+means of combination. One thing that makes the query language a logic 
+programming language is that the means of combination mirror the 
+means of combination used in forming logical expressions: and, or, and 
+not. (Here and, or, and not are not the Lisp primitives, but rather oper- 
+ations built into the query language.) 
+
+We can use and as follows to find the addresses of all the computer 
+programmers: 
+
+(and (job ?person (computer programmer)) 
+(address ?person ?where)) 
+
+The resulting output is 
+
+(and (job (Hacker Alyssa P) (computer programmer)) 
+
+(address (Hacker Alyssa P) (Cambridge (Mass Ave) 78))) 
+
+
+
+605 
+
+
+
+(and (job (Feet Cy D) (computer programmer)) 
+
+(address (Feet Cy D) (Cambridge (Ames Street) 3))) 
+
+In general, 
+
+(and {queryi) (query 2 ) . . . {query n )) 
+
+is satisfied by all sets of values for the pattern variables that simultane- 
+ously satisfy (queryi) ■ ■ ■ (query n ). 
+
+As for simple queries, the system processes a compound query by 
+finding all assignments to the pattern variables that satisfy the query, 
+then displaying instantiations of the query with those values. 
+
+Another means of constructing compound queries is through or. 
+For example, 
+
+(or (supervisor ?x (Bitdiddle Ben)) 
+(supervisor ?x (Hacker Alyssa P))) 
+
+will find all employees supervised by Ben Bitdiddle or Alyssa P. Hacker: 
+
+(or (supervisor (Hacker Alyssa P) (Bitdiddle Ben)) 
+
+(supervisor (Hacker Alyssa P) (Hacker Alyssa P))) 
+
+(or (supervisor (Feet Cy D) (Bitdiddle Ben)) 
+
+(supervisor (Feet Cy D) (Hacker Alyssa P))) 
+
+(or (supervisor (Tweakit Lem E) (Bitdiddle Ben)) 
+
+(supervisor (Tweakit Lem E) (Hacker Alyssa P))) 
+
+(or (supervisor (Reasoner Louis) (Bitdiddle Ben)) 
+
+(supervisor (Reasoner Louis) (Hacker Alyssa P))) 
+
+In general, 
+
+(or (queryi (query 2 ) . . . (query n )) 
+
+is satisfied by all sets of values for the pattern variables that satisfy at 
+least one of (queryi) ■ ■ ■ (query „). 
+
+Compound queries can also be formed with not. For example, 
+
+
+
+606 
+
+
+
+(and (supervisor ?x (Bitdiddle Ben)) 
+
+(not (job ?x (computer programmer)))) 
+
+finds all people supervised by Ben Bitdiddle who are not computer pro- 
+grammers. In general, 
+
+(not {queryi)) 
+
+is satisfied by all assignments to the pattern variables that do not satisfy 
+(queryi). 63. 
+
+The final combining form is called lisp-value. When lisp-value 
+is the first element of a pattern, it specifies that the next element is a 
+Lisp predicate to be applied to the rest of the (instantiated) elements as 
+arguments. In general, 
+
+(lisp-value {predicate) {arg{} ... {arg n }) 
+
+will be satisfied by assignments to the pattern variables for which the 
+(predicate) applied to the instantiated (argi) . . . (arg n ) is true. For ex- 
+ample, to find all people whose salary is greater than $30,000 we could 
+write 64 
+
+(and (salary ?person ?amount) (lisp-value > ?amount 30000)) 
+
+Exercise 4.56: Formulate compound queries that retrieve 
+the following information: 
+
+63 Actually, this description of not is valid only for simple cases. The real behavior of 
+not is more complex. We will examine not's peculiarities in sections Section 4.4.2 and 
+Section 4.4.3. 
+
+64 l_isp- value should be used only to perform an operation not provided in the query 
+language. In particular, it should not be used to test equality (since that is what the 
+matching in the query language is designed to do) or inequality (since that can be done 
+with the same rule shown below). 
+
+
+
+607 
+
+
+
+a. the names of all people who are supervised by Ben 
+Bitdiddle, together with their addresses; 
+
+b. all people whose salary is less than Ben Bitdiddle's, 
+together with their salary and Ben Bitdiddle's salary; 
+
+c. all people who are supervised by someone who is not 
+in the computer division, together with the supervi- 
+sor's name and job. 
+
+Rules 
+
+In addition to primitive queries and compound queries, the query lan- 
+guage provides means for abstracting queries. These are given by rules. 
+The rule 
+
+(rule (lives-near ?person-1 ?person-2) 
+
+(and (address ?person-1 (?town . ?rest-1)) 
+(address ?person-2 (?town . ?rest-2)) 
+(not (same ?person-1 ?person-2)))) 
+
+specifies that two people live near each other if they live in the same 
+town. The final not clause prevents the rule from saying that all peo- 
+ple live near themselves. The same relation is defined by a very simple 
+rule: 65 
+
+(rule (same ?x ?x)) 
+
+65 Notice that we do not need same in order to make two things be the same: We 
+just use the same pattern variable for each— in effect, we have one thing instead of two 
+things in the first place. For example, see ?town in the lives-near rule and ?middle- 
+manager in the wheel rule below. Same is useful when we want to force two things to 
+be different, such as ?person-1 and ?person-2 in the lives-near rule. Although using 
+the same pattern variable in two parts of a query forces the same value to appear in 
+both places, using different pattern variables does not force different values to appear. 
+(The values assigned to different pattern variables may be the same or different.) 
+
+
+
+608 
+
+
+
+The following rule declares that a person is a "wheel" in an organization 
+if he supervises someone who is in turn a supervisor: 
+
+(rule (wheel ?person) 
+
+(and (supervisor ?middle-manager ?person) 
+(supervisor ?x ?middle-manager))) 
+
+The general form of a rule is 
+
+(rule (conclusion) (body)) 
+
+where (conclusion) is a pattern and (body) is any query. 66 We can think 
+of a rule as representing a large (even infinite) set of assertions, namely 
+all instantiations of the rule conclusion with variable assignments that 
+satisfy the rule body. When we described simple queries (patterns), we 
+said that an assignment to variables satisfies a pattern if the instantiated 
+pattern is in the data base. But the pattern needn't be explicitly in the 
+data base as an assertion. It can be an implicit assertion implied by a 
+rule. For example, the query 
+
+(lives-near ?x (Bitdiddle Ben)) 
+results in 
+
+(lives-near (Reasoner Louis) (Bitdiddle Ben)) 
+(lives-near (Aull DeWitt) (Bitdiddle Ben)) 
+
+To find all computer programmers who live near Ben Bitdiddle, we can 
+ask 
+
+(and (job ?x (computer programmer)) 
+(lives-near ?x (Bitdiddle Ben))) 
+
+
+
+We will also allow rules without bodies, as in same, and we will interpret such a 
+rule to mean that the rule conclusion is satisfied by any values of the variables. 
+
+
+
+609 
+
+
+
+As in the case of compound procedures, rules can be used as parts of 
+other rules (as we saw with the lives-near rule above) or even be de- 
+fined recursively. For instance, the rule 
+
+(rule (outranked-by ?staf f-person ?boss) 
+
+(or (supervisor ?staf f-person ?boss) 
+
+(and (supervisor ?staf f-person ?middle-manager) 
+(outranked-by ?middle-manager ?boss)))) 
+
+says that a staff person is outranked by a boss in the organization if the 
+boss is the person's supervisor or (recursively) if the person's supervisor 
+is outranked by the boss. 
+
+Exercise 4.57: Define a rule that says that person 1 can re- 
+place person 2 if either person 1 does the same job as person 
+2 or someone who does person l's job can also do person 2's 
+job, and if person 1 and person 2 are not the same person. 
+Using your rule, give queries that find the following: 
+
+a. all people who can replace Cy D. Feet; 
+
+b. all people who can replace someone who is being paid 
+more than they are, together with the two salaries. 
+
+Exercise 4.58: Define a rule that says that a person is a "big 
+shot" in a division if the person works in the division but 
+does not have a supervisor who works in the division. 
+
+Exercise 4.59: Ben Bitdiddle has missed one meeting too 
+many. Fearing that his habit of forgetting meetings could 
+cost him his job, Ben decides to do something about it. He 
+adds all the weekly meetings of the firm to the Microshaft 
+data base by asserting the following: 
+
+
+
+610 
+
+
+
+(meeting accounting (Monday 9am)) 
+(meeting administration (Monday 10am)) 
+(meeting computer (Wednesday 3pm)) 
+(meeting administration (Friday 1pm)) 
+
+Each of the above assertions is for a meeting of an entire di- 
+vision. Ben also adds an entry for the company -wide meet- 
+ing that spans all the divisions. All of the company's em- 
+ployees attend this meeting. 
+
+(meeting whole-company (Wednesday 4pm)) 
+
+a. On Friday morning, Ben wants to query the data base 
+for all the meetings that occur that day. What query 
+should he use? 
+
+b. Alyssa P. Hacker is unimpressed. She thinks it would 
+be much more useful to be able to ask for her meetings 
+by specifying her name. So she designs a rule that says 
+that a person's meetings include all whole-company 
+meetings plus all meetings of that person's division. 
+Fill in the body of Alyssa's rule. 
+
+(rule (meeting-time ?person ?day-and-time) 
+(rule-body)) 
+
+c. Alyssa arrives at work on Wednesday morning and 
+wonders what meetings she has to attend that day. 
+Having defined the above rule, what query should she 
+make to find this out? 
+
+Exercise 4.60: By giving the query 
+(lives-near ?person (Hacker Alyssa P)) 
+
+
+
+611 
+
+
+
+Alyssa P. Hacker is able to find people who live near her, 
+with whom she can ride to work. On the other hand, when 
+she tries to find all pairs of people who live near each other 
+by querying 
+
+(lives-near ?person-1 ?person-2) 
+
+she notices that each pair of people who live near each 
+other is listed twice; for example, 
+
+(lives-near (Hacker Alyssa P) (Feet Cy D)) 
+(lives-near (Feet Cy D) (Hacker Alyssa P)) 
+
+Why does this happen? Is there a way to find a list of people 
+who live near each other, in which each pair appears only 
+once? Explain. 
+
+Logic as programs 
+
+We can regard a rule as a kind of logical implication: If an assignment 
+of values to pattern variables satisfies the body, then it satisfies the con- 
+clusion. Consequently, we can regard the query language as having the 
+ability to perform logical deductions based upon the rules. As an exam- 
+ple, consider the append operation described at the beginning of Section 
+4.4. As we said, append can be characterized by the following two rules: 
+
+• For any list y, the empty list and y append to form y. 
+
+• For any u, v, y, and z, (cons u v) and y append to form (cons u 
+z) if v and y append to form z. 
+
+To express this in our query language, we define two rules for a relation 
+(append-to-form x y z) 
+
+
+
+612 
+
+
+
+which we can interpret to mean "x and y append to form z": 
+
+(rule (append-to-form () ?y ?y)) 
+(rule (append-to-form (?u . ?v) ?y (?u . ?z)) 
+(append-to-form ?v ?y ?z)) 
+
+The first rule has no body, which means that the conclusion holds for 
+any value of ?y. Note how the second rule makes use of dotted-tail no- 
+tation to name the car and cdr of a list. 
+
+Given these two rules, we can formulate queries that compute the 
+append of two lists: 
+
+;;; Query input: 
+(append-to-form (a b) (c d) ?z) 
+; ; ; Query results: 
+
+(append-to-form (a b) (c d) (a b c d)) 
+
+What is more striking, we can use the same rules to ask the question 
+"Which list, when appended to (a b), yields (a b c d)?" This is done 
+as follows: 
+
+; ; ; Query input: 
+
+(append-to-form (a b) ?y (a b c d)) 
+; ; ; Query results: 
+
+(append-to-form (a b) (c d) (a b c d)) 
+
+We can also ask for all pairs of lists that append to form (abed): 
+
+;;; Query input: 
+
+(append-to-form ?x ?y (a b c d)) 
+; ; ; Query results: 
+
+(append-to-form () (abed) (a b c d)) 
+(append-to-form (a) (bed) (a b c d)) 
+(append-to-form (a b) (c d) (a b c d)) 
+(append-to-form (a b c) (d) (a b c d)) 
+(append-to-form (abed) () (a b c d)) 
+
+
+
+613 
+
+
+
+The query system may seem to exhibit quite a bit of intelligence in using 
+the rules to deduce the answers to the queries above. Actually as we 
+will see in the next section, the system is following a well-determined 
+algorithm in unraveling the rules. Unfortunately although the system 
+works impressively in the append case, the general methods may break 
+down in more complex cases, as we will see in Section 4.4.3. 
+
+Exercise 4.6T: The following rules implement a next-to 
+relation that finds adjacent elements of a list: 
+
+(rule (?x next-to ?y in (?x ?y . ?u))) 
+(rule (?x next-to ?y in (?v . ?z)) 
+(?x next-to ?y in ?z)) 
+
+What will the response be to the following queries? 
+
+(?x next-to ?y in (1 (2 3) 4)) 
+(?x next-to 1 in (2 1 3 1)) 
+
+Exercise 4.62: Define rules to implement the last-pair 
+operation of Exercise 2.17, which returns a list containing 
+the last element of a nonempty list. Check your rules on 
+queries such as (last-pair (3) ?x), (last-pair (1 2 
+3) ?x) and (last-pair (2 ?x) (3)). Do your rules work 
+correctly on queries such as (last-pair ?x (3))? 
+
+Exercise 4.63: The following database (see Genesis 4) traces 
+the genealogy of the descendants of Ada back to Adam, by 
+way of Cain: 
+
+(son Adam Cain) 
+(son Cain Enoch) 
+(son Enoch Irad) 
+
+
+
+614 
+
+
+
+(son Irad Mehujael) 
+
+(son Mehujael Methushael) 
+
+(son Methushael Lamech) 
+
+(wife Lamech Ada) 
+
+(son Ada Jabal) 
+
+(son Ada Jubal) 
+
+Formulate rules such as "If S is the son of /, and / is the 
+son of G, then S is the grandson of G" and "If W is the wife 
+of M, and S is the son of W, then S is the son of M" (which 
+was supposedly more true in biblical times than today) that 
+will enable the query system to find the grandson of Cain; 
+the sons of Lamech; the grandsons of Methushael. (See Ex- 
+ercise 4.69 for some rules to deduce more complicated re- 
+lationships.) 
+
+4.4.2 How the Query System Works 
+
+In Section 4.4.4 we will present an implementation of the query inter- 
+preter as a collection of procedures. In this section we give an overview 
+that explains the general structure of the system independent of low- 
+level implementation details. After describing the implementation of the 
+interpreter, we will be in a position to understand some of its limitations 
+and some of the subtle ways in which the query language's logical op- 
+erations differ from the operations of mathematical logic. 
+
+It should be apparent that the query evaluator must perform some 
+kind of search in order to match queries against facts and rules in the 
+data base. One way to do this would be to implement the query system 
+as a nondeterministic program, using the amb evaluator of Section 4.3 
+(see Exercise 4.78). Another possibility is to manage the search with the 
+aid of streams. Our implementation follows this second approach. 
+
+
+
+615 
+
+
+
+The query system is organized around two central operations called 
+pattern matching and unification. We first describe pattern matching and 
+explain how this operation, together with the organization of informa- 
+tion in terms of streams of frames, enables us to implement both simple 
+and compound queries. We next discuss unification, a generalization of 
+pattern matching needed to implement rules. Finally, we show how the 
+entire query interpreter fits together through a procedure that classifies 
+expressions in a manner analogous to the way eval classifies expres- 
+sions for the interpreter described in Section 4.1. 
+
+Pattern matching 
+
+A pattern matcher is a program that tests whether some datum fits a 
+specified pattern. For example, the data list ((a b) c (a b)) matches 
+the pattern (?x c ?x) with the pattern variable ?x bound to (a b). 
+The same data list matches the pattern (?x ?y ?z) with ?x and ?z both 
+bound to (a b) and ?y bound to c. It also matches the pattern ( (?x ?y) 
+c (?x ?y) ) with ?x bound to a and ?y bound to b. However, it does not 
+match the pattern (?x a ?y), since that pattern specifies a list whose 
+second element is the symbol a. 
+
+The pattern matcher used by the query system takes as inputs a 
+pattern, a datum, and a frame that specifies bindings for various pattern 
+variables. It checks whether the datum matches the pattern in a way that 
+is consistent with the bindings already in the frame. If so, it returns the 
+given frame augmented by any bindings that may have been determined 
+by the match. Otherwise, it indicates that the match has failed. 
+
+For example, using the pattern (?x ?y ?x) to match (a b a) given 
+an empty frame will return a frame specifying that ?x is bound to a 
+and ?y is bound to b. Trying the match with the same pattern, the same 
+datum, and a frame specifying that ?y is bound to a will fail. Trying the 
+
+
+
+616 
+
+
+
+match with the same pattern, the same datum, and a frame in which ?y 
+is bound to b and ?x is unbound will return the given frame augmented 
+by a binding of ?x to a. 
+
+The pattern matcher is all the mechanism that is needed to pro- 
+cess simple queries that don't involve rules. For instance, to process the 
+query 
+
+(job ?x (computer programmer)) 
+
+we scan through all assertions in the data base and select those that 
+match the pattern with respect to an initially empty frame. For each 
+match we find, we use the frame returned by the match to instantiate 
+the pattern with a value for ?x. 
+
+Streams of frames 
+
+The testing of patterns against frames is organized through the use of 
+streams. Given a single frame, the matching process runs through the 
+data-base entries one by one. For each data-base entry, the matcher gen- 
+erates either a special symbol indicating that the match has failed or an 
+extension to the frame. The results for all the data-base entries are col- 
+lected into a stream, which is passed through a filter to weed out the 
+failures. The result is a stream of all the frames that extend the given 
+frame via a match to some assertion in the data base. 67 
+
+67 Because matching is generally very expensive, we would like to avoid applying 
+the full matcher to every element of the data base. This is usually arranged by breaking 
+up the process into a fast, coarse match and the final match. The coarse match filters 
+the data base to produce a small set of candidates for the final match. With care, we 
+can arrange our data base so that some of the work of coarse matching can be done 
+when the data base is constructed rather then when we want to select the candidates. 
+This is called indexing the data base. There is a vast technology built around data-base- 
+indexing schemes. Our implementation, described in Section 4.4.4, contains a simple- 
+minded form of such an optimization. 
+
+
+
+617 
+
+
+
+of frames 
+
+
+query 
+
+
+filtered and extended 
+
+
+
+
+(job ?x ?y) 
+
+
+
+
+
+stream of assertions 
+from data base 
+
+
+
+Figure 4.4: A query processes a stream of frames. 
+
+
+
+In our system, a query takes an input stream of frames and per- 
+forms the above matching operation for every frame in the stream, as 
+indicated in Figure 4.4. That is, for each frame in the input stream, the 
+query generates a new stream consisting of all extensions to that frame 
+by matches to assertions in the data base. All these streams are then 
+combined to form one huge stream, which contains all possible exten- 
+sions of every frame in the input stream. This stream is the output of 
+the query. 
+
+To answer a simple query, we use the query with an input stream 
+consisting of a single empty frame. The resulting output stream contains 
+all extensions to the empty frame (that is, all answers to our query). 
+This stream of frames is then used to generate a stream of copies of the 
+original query pattern with the variables instantiated by the values in 
+each frame, and this is the stream that is finally printed. 
+
+Compound queries 
+
+The real elegance of the stream-of-frames implementation is evident 
+when we deal with compound queries. The processing of compound 
+
+
+
+618 
+
+
+
+input stream 
+of frames 
+
+
+r 
+
+
+(a 
+
+A 
+\ 
+
+
+nd A 
+
+
+B) 
+
+B 
+) 
+
+
+> 
+
+
+output stream 
+of frames 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+J 
+
+
+
+
+
+data base 
+
+Figure 4.5: The and combination of two queries is produced 
+by operating on the stream of frames in series. 
+
+queries makes use of the ability of our matcher to demand that a match 
+be consistent with a specified frame. For example, to handle the and of 
+two queries, such as 
+
+(and (can-do-job ?x (computer programmer trainee)) 
+(job ?person ?x)) 
+
+(informally, "Find all people who can do the job of a computer program- 
+mer trainee"), we first find all entries that match the pattern 
+
+(can-do-job ?x (computer programmer trainee)) 
+
+This produces a stream of frames, each of which contains a binding for 
+?x. Then for each frame in the stream we find all entries that match 
+
+(job ?person ?x) 
+
+in a way that is consistent with the given binding for ?x. Each such 
+match will produce a frame containing bindings for ?x and ?person. 
+The and of two queries can be viewed as a series combination of the 
+two component queries, as shown in Figure 4.5. The frames that pass 
+
+
+
+619 
+
+
+
+input stream 
+of frames 
+
+
+
+
+output stream 
+of frames 
+
+
+
+data base 
+
+
+
+Figure 4.6: The or combination of two queries is produced 
+by operating on the stream of frames in parallel and merg- 
+ing the results. 
+
+
+
+through the first query filter are filtered and further extended by the 
+second query. 
+
+Figure 4.6 shows the analogous method for computing the or of two 
+queries as a parallel combination of the two component queries. The 
+input stream of frames is extended separately by each query. The two 
+resulting streams are then merged to produce the final output stream. 
+
+Even from this high-level description, it is apparent that the pro- 
+cessing of compound queries can be slow. For example, since a query 
+may produce more than one output frame for each input frame, and 
+each query in an and gets its input frames from the previous query, an 
+and query could, in the worst case, have to perform a number of matches 
+
+
+
+620 
+
+
+
+that is exponential in the number of queries (see Exercise 4. 76). 68 Though 
+systems for handling only simple queries are quite practical, dealing 
+with complex queries is extremely difficult. 69 
+
+From the stream-of-frames viewpoint, the not of some query acts 
+as a filter that removes all frames for which the query can be satisfied. 
+For instance, given the pattern 
+
+(not (job ?x (computer programmer))) 
+
+we attempt, for each frame in the input stream, to produce extension 
+frames that satisfy (job ?x (computer programmer)). We remove 
+from the input stream all frames for which such extensions exist. The 
+result is a stream consisting of only those frames in which the binding 
+for ?x does not satisfy (job ?x (computer programmer)). For example, 
+in processing the query 
+
+(and (supervisor ?x ?y) 
+
+(not (job ?x (computer programmer)))) 
+
+the first clause will generate frames with bindings for ?x and ?y. The not 
+clause will then filter these by removing all frames in which the binding 
+for ?x satisfies the restriction that ?x is a computer programmer. 70 
+
+The lisp-value special form is implemented as a similar filter on 
+frame streams. We use each frame in the stream to instantiate any vari- 
+ables in the pattern, then apply the Lisp predicate. We remove from the 
+input stream all frames for which the predicate fails. 
+
+68 But this kind of exponential explosion is not common in and queries because the 
+added conditions tend to reduce rather than expand the number of frames produced. 
+
+69 1here is a large literature on data-base-management systems that is concerned with 
+how to handle complex queries efficiently. 
+
+70 1here is a subtle difference between this filter implementation of not and the usual 
+meaning of not in mathematical logic. See Section 4.4.3. 
+
+
+
+621 
+
+
+
+Unification 
+
+In order to handle rules in the query language, we must be able to find 
+the rules whose conclusions match a given query pattern. Rule conclu- 
+sions are like assertions except that they can contain variables, so we 
+will need a generalization of pattern matching— called unification— in 
+which both the "pattern" and the "datum" may contain variables. 
+
+A unifier takes two patterns, each containing constants and vari- 
+ables, and determines whether it is possible to assign values to the vari- 
+ables that will make the two patterns equal. If so, it returns a frame 
+containing these bindings. For example, unifying (?x a ?y) and (?y 
+?z a) will specify a frame in which ?x, ?y, and ?z must all be bound 
+to a. On the other hand, unifying (?x ?y a) and (?x b ?y) will fail, 
+because there is no value for ?y that can make the two patterns equal. 
+(For the second elements of the patterns to be equal, ?y would have to 
+be b; however, for the third elements to be equal, ?y would have to be 
+a.) The unifier used in the query system, like the pattern matcher, takes 
+a frame as input and performs unifications that are consistent with this 
+frame. 
+
+The unification algorithm is the most technically difficult part of the 
+query system. With complex patterns, performing unification may seem 
+to require deduction. To unify (?x ?x) and ((a ?y c) (a b ?z)),for 
+example, the algorithm must infer that ?x should be (a b c), ?y should 
+be b, and ?z should be c. We may think of this process as solving a 
+set of equations among the pattern components. In general, these are 
+simultaneous equations, which may require substantial manipulation 
+to solve. 71 For example, unifying (?x ?x) and ((a ?y c) (a b ?z)) 
+may be thought of as specifying the simultaneous equations 
+
+In one-sided pattern matching, all the equations that contain pattern variables are 
+explicit and already solved for the unknown (the pattern variable). 
+
+
+
+622 
+
+
+
+?x = (a ?y c) 
+?x = (a b ?z) 
+
+These equations imply that 
+
+(a ?y c) = (a b ?z) 
+
+which in turn implies that 
+
+a = a, 
+?y = b, 
+c = ?z, 
+
+and hence that 
+
+?x = (a b c) 
+
+In a successful pattern match, all pattern variables become bound, and 
+the values to which they are bound contain only constants. This is also 
+true of all the examples of unification we have seen so far. In general, 
+however, a successful unification may not completely determine the 
+variable values; some variables may remain unbound and others may 
+be bound to values that contain variables. 
+
+Consider the unification of (?x a)and((b ?y) ?z). We can deduce 
+that ?x = (b ?y) and a = ?z, but we cannot further solve for ?x or 
+?y. The unification doesn't fail, since it is certainly possible to make the 
+two patterns equal by assigning values to ?x and ?y. Since this match 
+in no way restricts the values ?y can take on, no binding for ?y is put 
+into the result frame. The match does, however, restrict the value of ?x. 
+Whatever value ?yhas, ?xmustbe (b ?y). A binding of ?x to the pattern 
+(b ?y ) is thus put into the frame. If a value for ?y is later determined and 
+added to the frame (by a pattern match or unification that is required 
+to be consistent with this frame), the previously bound ?x will refer to 
+this value. 72 
+
+72 Another way to think of unification is that it generates the most general pattern 
+
+
+
+623 
+
+
+
+Applying rules 
+
+Unification is the key to the component of the query system that makes 
+inferences from rules. To see how this is accomplished, consider pro- 
+cessing a query that involves applying a rule, such as 
+
+(lives-near ?x (Hacker Alyssa P)) 
+
+To process this query, we first use the ordinary pattern-match procedure 
+described above to see if there are any assertions in the data base that 
+match this pattern. (There will not be any in this case, since our data base 
+includes no direct assertions about who lives near whom.) The next step 
+is to attempt to unify the query pattern with the conclusion of each rule. 
+We find that the pattern unifies with the conclusion of the rule 
+
+(rule (lives-near ?person-1 ?person-2) 
+
+(and (address ?person-1 (?town . ?rest-1)) 
+(address ?person-2 (?town . ?rest-2)) 
+(not (same ?person-1 ?person-2)))) 
+
+resulting in a frame specifying that ?person-2 is bound to (Hacker 
+Alyssa P) and that ?x should be bound to (have the same value as) 
+?pe rson- 1 . Now, relative to this frame, we evaluate the compound query 
+given by the body of the rule. Successful matches will extend this frame 
+by providing a binding for ?person-1 , and consequently a value for ?x, 
+which we can use to instantiate the original query pattern. 
+
+In general, the query evaluator uses the following method to apply 
+a rule when trying to establish a query pattern in a frame that specifies 
+bindings for some of the pattern variables: 
+
+that is a specialization of the two input patterns. That is, the unification of (?x a) and 
+((b ?y) ?z)is((b ?y) a), and the unification of (?x a ?y) and (?y ?z a), discussed 
+above, is (a a a). For our implementation, it is more convenient to think of the result 
+of unification as a frame rather than a pattern. 
+
+
+
+624 
+
+
+
+• Unify the query with the conclusion of the rule to form, if suc- 
+cessful, an extension of the original frame. 
+
+• Relative to the extended frame, evaluate the query formed by the 
+body of the rule. 
+
+Notice how similar this is to the method for applying a procedure in the 
+eval/apply evaluator for Lisp: 
+
+• Bind the procedure's parameters to its arguments to form a frame 
+that extends the original procedure environment. 
+
+• Relative to the extended environment, evaluate the expression 
+formed by the body of the procedure. 
+
+The similarity between the two evaluators should come as no surprise. 
+Just as procedure definitions are the means of abstraction in Lisp, rule 
+definitions are the means of abstraction in the query language. In each 
+case, we unwind the abstraction by creating appropriate bindings and 
+evaluating the rule or procedure body relative to these. 
+
+Simple queries 
+
+We saw earlier in this section how to evaluate simple queries in the 
+absence of rules. Now that we have seen how to apply rules, we can 
+describe how to evaluate simple queries by using both rules and asser- 
+tions. 
+
+Given the query pattern and a stream of frames, we produce, for 
+each frame in the input stream, two streams: 
+
+• a stream of extended frames obtained by matching the pattern 
+against all assertions in the data base (using the pattern matcher), 
+and 
+
+
+
+625 
+
+
+
+• a stream of extended frames obtained by applying all possible 
+rules (using the unifier). 73 
+
+Appending these two streams produces a stream that consists of all the 
+ways that the given pattern can be satisfied consistent with the original 
+frame. These streams (one for each frame in the input stream) are now 
+all combined to form one large stream, which therefore consists of all 
+the ways that any of the frames in the original input stream can be 
+extended to produce a match with the given pattern. 
+
+The query evaluator and the driver loop 
+
+Despite the complexity of the underlying matching operations, the sys- 
+tem is organized much like an evaluator for any language. The proce- 
+dure that coordinates the matching operations is called qeval, and it 
+plays a role analogous to that of the eval procedure for Lisp. Qeval 
+takes as inputs a query and a stream of frames. Its output is a stream of 
+frames, corresponding to successful matches to the query pattern, that 
+extend some frame in the input stream, as indicated in Figure 4.4. Like 
+eval, qeval classifies the different types of expressions (queries) and 
+dispatches to an appropriate procedure for each. There is a procedure 
+for each special form (and, or, not, and lisp-value) and one for simple 
+queries. 
+
+The driver loop, which is analogous to the driver-loop procedure 
+for the other evaluators in this chapter, reads queries from the terminal. 
+For each query, it calls qeval with the query and a stream that consists 
+
+73 Since unification is a generalization of matching, we could simplify the system 
+by using the unifier to produce both streams. Treating the easy case with the simple 
+matcher, however, illustrates how matching (as opposed to full-blown unification) can 
+be useful in its own right. 
+
+
+
+626 
+
+
+
+of a single empty frame. This will produce the stream of all possible 
+matches (all possible extensions to the empty frame). For each frame in 
+the resulting stream, it instantiates the original query using the values 
+of the variables found in the frame. This stream of instantiated queries 
+is then printed. 74 
+
+The driver also checks for the special command assert ! , which sig- 
+nals that the input is not a query but rather an assertion or rule to be 
+added to the data base. For instance, 
+
+(assert! (job (Bitdiddle Ben) 
+
+(computer wizard))) 
+(assert! (rule (wheel ?person) 
+
+(and (supervisor ?middle-manager ?person) 
+(supervisor ?x ?middle-manager)))) 
+
+
+
+4.4.3 Is Logic Programming Mathematical Logic? 
+
+The means of combination used in the query language may at first seem 
+identical to the operations and, or, and not of mathematical logic, and 
+the application of query-language rules is in fact accomplished through 
+a legitimate method of inference. 75 This identification of the query lan- 
+guage with mathematical logic is not really valid, though, because the 
+
+74 The reason we use streams (rather than lists) of frames is that the recursive appli- 
+cation of rules can generate infinite numbers of values that satisfy a query. The delayed 
+evaluation embodied in streams is crucial here: The system will print responses one by 
+one as they are generated, regardless of whether there are a finite or infinite number 
+of responses. 
+
+75 That a particular method of inference is legitimate is not a trivial assertion. One 
+must prove that if one starts with true premises, only true conclusions can be derived. 
+The method of inference represented by rule applications is modus ponens, the familiar 
+method of inference that says that if A is true and A implies B is true, then we may 
+conclude that B is true. 
+
+
+
+627 
+
+
+
+query language provides a control structure that interprets the logical 
+statements procedurally. We can often take advantage of this control 
+structure. For example, to find all of the supervisors of programmers 
+we could formulate a query in either of two logically equivalent forms: 
+
+(and (job ?x (computer programmer)) (supervisor ?x ?y)) 
+or 
+
+(and (supervisor ?x ?y) (job ?x (computer programmer))) 
+
+If a company has many more supervisors than programmers (the usual 
+case), it is better to use the first form rather than the second because the 
+data base must be scanned for each intermediate result (frame) produced 
+by the first clause of the and. 
+
+The aim of logic programming is to provide the programmer with 
+techniques for decomposing a computational problem into two separate 
+problems: "what" is to be computed, and "how" this should be computed. 
+This is accomplished by selecting a subset of the statements of mathe- 
+matical logic that is powerful enough to be able to describe anything 
+one might want to compute, yet weak enough to have a controllable 
+procedural interpretation. The intention here is that, on the one hand, a 
+program specified in a logic programming language should be an effec- 
+tive program that can be carried out by a computer. Control ("how" to 
+compute) is effected by using the order of evaluation of the language. 
+We should be able to arrange the order of clauses and the order of sub- 
+goals within each clause so that the computation is done in an order 
+deemed to be effective and efficient. At the same time, we should be 
+able to view the result of the computation ("what" to compute) as a 
+simple consequence of the laws of logic. 
+
+Our query language can be regarded as just such a procedurally in- 
+terpretable subset of mathematical logic. An assertion represents a sim- 
+
+
+
+628 
+
+
+
+pie fact (an atomic proposition). A rule represents the implication that 
+the rule conclusion holds for those cases where the rule body holds. A 
+rule has a natural procedural interpretation: To establish the conclusion 
+of the rule, establish the body of the rule. Rules, therefore, specify com- 
+putations. However, because rules can also be regarded as statements 
+of mathematical logic, we can justify any "inference" accomplished by 
+a logic program by asserting that the same result could be obtained by 
+working entirely within mathematical logic. 76 
+
+Infinite loops 
+
+A consequence of the procedural interpretation of logic programs is that 
+it is possible to construct hopelessly inefficient programs for solving 
+certain problems. An extreme case of inefficiency occurs when the sys- 
+tem falls into infinite loops in making deductions. As a simple example, 
+suppose we are setting up a data base of famous marriages, including 
+
+(assert! (married Minnie Mickey)) 
+
+If we now ask 
+
+(married Mickey ?who) 
+
+76 We must qualify this statement by agreeing that, in speaking of the "inference" 
+accomplished by a logic program, we assume that the computation terminates. Unfor- 
+tunately, even this qualified statement is false for our implementation of the query lan- 
+guage (and also false for programs in Prolog and most other current logic programming 
+languages) because of our use of not and lisp-value. As we will describe below, the 
+not implemented in the query language is not always consistent with the not of math- 
+ematical logic, and lisp-value introduces additional complications. We could imple- 
+ment a language consistent with mathematical logic by simply removing not and lisp- 
+value from the language and agreeing to write programs using only simple queries, and, 
+and or. However, this would greatly restrict the expressive power of the language. One 
+of the major concerns of research in logic programming is to find ways to achieve more 
+consistency with mathematical logic without unduly sacrificing expressive power. 
+
+
+
+629 
+
+
+
+we will get no response, because the system doesn't know that if A is 
+married to B, then B is married to A. So we assert the rule 
+
+(assert! (rule (married ?x ?y) (married ?y ?x))) 
+
+and again query 
+
+(married Mickey ?who) 
+
+Unfortunately this will drive the system into an infinite loop, as follows: 
+
+• The system finds that the married rule is applicable; that is, the 
+rule conclusion (married ?x ?y) successfully unifies with the 
+query pattern (married Mickey ?who) to produce a frame in 
+which ?x is bound to Mickey and ?y is bound to ?who. So the inter- 
+preter proceeds to evaluate the rule body (married ?y ?x) in this 
+frame— in effect, to process the query (married ?who Mickey). 
+
+• One answer appears directly as an assertion in the data base: 
+(married Minnie Mickey). 
+
+• The married rule is also applicable, so the interpreter again eval- 
+uates the rule body, which this time is equivalent to (married 
+Mickey ?who). 
+
+The system is now in an infinite loop. Indeed, whether the system will 
+find the simple answer (married Minnie Mickey) before it goes into 
+the loop depends on implementation details concerning the order in 
+which the system checks the items in the data base. This is a very sim- 
+ple example of the kinds of loops that can occur. Collections of interre- 
+lated rules can lead to loops that are much harder to anticipate, and the 
+appearance of a loop can depend on the order of clauses in an and (see 
+
+
+
+630 
+
+
+
+Exercise 4.64) or on low-level details concerning the order in which the 
+system processes queries. 77 
+
+Problems with not 
+
+Another quirk in the query system concerns not. Given the data base 
+of Section 4.4.1, consider the following two queries: 
+
+(and (supervisor ?x ?y) 
+
+(not (job ?x (computer programmer)))) 
+(and (not (job ?x (computer programmer))) 
+
+(supervisor ?x ?y)) 
+
+These two queries do not produce the same result. The first query begins 
+by finding all entries in the data base that match (supervisor ?x ?y), 
+and then filters the resulting frames by removing the ones in which the 
+value of ?x satisfies (job ?x (computer programmer)). The second 
+query begins by filtering the incoming frames to remove those that can 
+satisfy (job ?x (computer programmer)). Since the only incoming 
+frame is empty, it checks the data base to see if there are any patterns 
+that satisfy (job ?x (computer programmer)). Since there generally 
+
+77 This is not a problem of the logic but one of the procedural interpretation of the 
+logic provided by our interpreter. We could write an interpreter that would not fall 
+into a loop here. For example, we could enumerate all the proofs derivable from our 
+assertions and our rules in a breadth-first rather than a depth-first order. However, 
+such a system makes it more difficult to take advantage of the order of deductions 
+in our programs. One attempt to build sophisticated control into such a program is 
+described in deKleer et al. 1977. Another technique, which does not lead to such serious 
+control problems, is to put in special knowledge, such as detectors for particular kinds of 
+loops (Exercise 4.67). However, there can be no general scheme for reliably preventing a 
+system from going down infinite paths in performing deductions. Imagine a diabolical 
+rule of the form "To show P(x) is true, show that P(f(x)) is true," for some suitably 
+chosen function /. 
+
+
+
+631 
+
+
+
+are entries of this form, the not clause filters out the empty frame and 
+returns an empty stream of frames. Consequently, the entire compound 
+query returns an empty stream. 
+
+The trouble is that our implementation of not really is meant to 
+serve as a filter on values for the variables. If a not clause is processed 
+with a frame in which some of the variables remain unbound (as does 
+?x in the example above), the system will produce unexpected results. 
+Similar problems occur with the use of lisp-value— the Lisp predicate 
+can't work if some of its arguments are unbound. See Exercise 4.77. 
+
+There is also a much more serious way in which the not of the query 
+language differs from the not of mathematical logic. In logic, we inter- 
+pret the statement "not P" to mean that P is not true. In the query sys- 
+tem, however, "not P" means that P is not deducible from the knowledge 
+in the data base. For example, given the personnel data base of Section 
+4.4.1, the system would happily deduce all sorts of not statements, such 
+as that Ben Bitdiddle is not a baseball fan, that it is not raining outside, 
+and that 2 + 2 is not 4. 78 In other words, the not of logic programming 
+languages reflects the so-called closed world assumption that all relevant 
+information has been included in the data base. 79 
+
+Exercise 4.64: Louis Reasoner mistakenly deletes the out ranked - 
+by rule (Section 4.4.1) from the data base. When he real- 
+izes this, he quickly reinstalls it. Unfortunately, he makes a 
+slight change in the rule, and types it in as 
+
+78 Consider the query (not (baseball-fan (Bitdiddle Ben))). The system finds 
+that (baseball-fan (Bitdiddle Ben)) is not in the data base, so the empty frame 
+does not satisfy the pattern and is not filtered out of the initial stream of frames. The 
+result of the query is thus the empty frame, which is used to instantiate the input query 
+to produce (not (baseball-fan (Bitdiddle Ben))). 
+
+79 A discussion and justification of this treatment of not can be found in the article 
+by Clark (1978). 
+
+
+
+632 
+
+
+
+(rule (outranked-by ?staf f-person ?boss) 
+
+(or (supervisor ?staf f-person ?boss) 
+
+(and (outranked-by ?middle-manager ?boss) 
+(supervisor ?staf f-person 
+
+?middle-manager)))) 
+
+Just after Louis types this information into the system, De- 
+Witt Aull comes by to find out who outranks Ben Bitdiddle. 
+He issues the query 
+
+(outranked-by (Bitdiddle Ben) ?who) 
+
+After answering, the system goes into an infinite loop. Ex- 
+plain why. 
+
+Exercise 4.65: Cy D. Feet, looking forward to the day when 
+he will rise in the organization, gives a query to find all the 
+wheels (using the wheel rule of Section 4.4.1): 
+
+(wheel ?who) 
+
+To his surprise, the system responds 
+
+; ; ; Query resu I ts : 
+(wheel (Warbucks Oliver)) 
+(wheel (Bitdiddle Ben)) 
+(wheel (Warbucks Oliver)) 
+(wheel (Warbucks Oliver)) 
+(wheel (Warbucks Oliver)) 
+
+Why is Oliver Warbucks listed four times? 
+
+Exercise 4.66: Ben has been generalizing the query sys- 
+tem to provide statistics about the company. For example, 
+
+
+
+633 
+
+
+
+to find the total salaries of all the computer programmers 
+one will be able to say 
+
+(sum ?amount (and (job ?x (computer programmer)) 
+(salary ?x ?amount))) 
+
+In general, Ben's new system allows expressions of the form 
+(accumulation-function {variable} {query pattern}) 
+
+where accumu la t ion -function can be things like sum, average, 
+or maximum. Ben reasons that it should be a cinch to imple- 
+ment this. He will simply feed the query pattern to qeval. 
+This will produce a stream of frames. He will then pass this 
+stream through a mapping function that extracts the value 
+of the designated variable from each frame in the stream 
+and feed the resulting stream of values to the accumulation 
+function. Just as Ben completes the implementation and is 
+about to try it out, Cy walks by, still puzzling over the wheel 
+query result in Exercise 4.65. When Cy shows Ben the sys- 
+tem's response, Ben groans, "Oh, no, my simple accumula- 
+tion scheme won't work!" 
+
+What has Ben just realized? Outline a method he can use 
+to salvage the situation. 
+
+Exercise 4.67: Devise a way to install a loop detector in the 
+query system so as to avoid the kinds of simple loops illus- 
+trated in the text and in Exercise 4.64. The general idea is 
+that the system should maintain some sort of history of its 
+current chain of deductions and should not begin process- 
+ing a query that it is already working on. Describe what 
+kind of information (patterns and frames) is included in 
+
+
+
+634 
+
+
+
+this history, and how the check should be made. (After you 
+study the details of the query-system implementation in 
+Section 4.4.4, you may want to modify the system to in- 
+clude your loop detector.) 
+
+Exercise 4.68: Define rules to implement the reverse op- 
+eration of Exercise 2.18, which returns a list containing the 
+same elements as a given list in reverse order. (Hint: Use 
+append-to-form.) Can your rules answer both (reverse 
+(1 2 3) ?x) and (reverse ?x (1 2 3))? 
+
+Exercise 4.69: Beginning with the data base and the rules 
+you formulated in Exercise 4.63, devise a rule for adding 
+"greats" to a grandson relationship. This should enable the 
+system to deduce that Irad is the great-grandson of Adam, 
+or that Jabal and Jubal are the great-great-great-great-great- 
+grandsons of Adam. (Hint: Represent the fact about Irad, for 
+example, as ( (great grandson) Adam Irad). Write rules 
+that determine if a list ends in the word grandson. Use this 
+to express a rule that allows one to derive the relationship 
+((great . ?rel) ?x ?y), where ?rel is a list ending in 
+grandson.) Check your rules on queries such as ((great 
+grandson) ?g ?ggs) and (?relationship Adam Irad). 
+
+4.4.4 Implementing the Query System 
+
+Section 4.4.2 described how the query system works. Now we fill in 
+details by presenting a complete implementation of the system. 
+
+
+
+635 
+
+
+
+4.4.4.1 The Driver Loop and Instantiation 
+
+The driver loop for the query system repeatedly reads input expressions. 
+If the expression is a rule or assertion to be added to the data base, then 
+the information is added. Otherwise the expression is assumed to be 
+a query. The driver passes this query to the evaluator qeval together 
+with an initial frame stream consisting of a single empty frame. The 
+result of the evaluation is a stream of frames generated by satisfying 
+the query with variable values found in the data base. These frames are 
+used to form a new stream consisting of copies of the original query in 
+which the variables are instantiated with values supplied by the stream 
+of frames, and this final stream is printed at the terminal: 
+
+(define input-prompt ";;; Query input:") 
+(define output-prompt ";;; Query results:") 
+
+(define (query-driver-loop) 
+
+(prompt-for-input input-prompt) 
+(let ((q (query-syntax-process (read)))) 
+(cond ((assertion-to-be-added? q) 
+
+(add-rule-or-assertion ! (add-assertion-body q)) 
+(newline) 
+
+(display "Assertion added to data base.") 
+(query-driver-loop) ) 
+(else 
+(newline) 
+
+(display output-prompt) 
+(display-stream 
+(stream-map 
+(lambda (frame) 
+(instantiate 
+
+q 
+
+frame 
+
+
+
+636 
+
+
+
+(lambda (v f) 
+
+(contract-question-mark v)))) 
+(qeval q (singleton-stream '())))) 
+(query-driver-loop))))) 
+
+Here, as in the other evaluators in this chapter, we use an abstract syn- 
+tax for the expressions of the query language. The implementation of the 
+expression syntax, including the predicate assertion-to-be-added? 
+and the selector add-assertion-body, is given in Section 4.4.4.7. Add- 
+rule-or-assertion ! is defined in Section 4.4.4.5. 
+
+Before doing any processing on an input expression, the driver loop 
+transforms it syntactically into a form that makes the processing more 
+efficient. This involves changing the representation of pattern variables. 
+When the query is instantiated, any variables that remain unbound 
+are transformed back to the input representation before being printed. 
+These transformations are performed by the two procedures query- 
+syntax-process and contract-question-mark (Section 4.4.4.7). 
+
+To instantiate an expression, we copy it, replacing any variables in 
+the expression by their values in a given frame. The values are them- 
+selves instantiated, since they could contain variables (for example, if 
+?x in exp is bound to ?y as the result of unification and ?y is in turn 
+bound to 5). The action to take if a variable cannot be instantiated is 
+given by a procedural argument to instantiate. 
+
+(define (instantiate exp frame unbound-var-handler) 
+(define (copy exp) 
+(cond ((var? exp) 
+
+(let ((binding (binding-in-frame exp frame))) 
+(if binding 
+
+(copy (binding-value binding)) 
+(unbound-var-handler exp frame)))) 
+((pair? exp) 
+
+
+
+637 
+
+
+
+(cons (copy (car exp)) (copy (cdr exp)))) 
+(else exp))) 
+(copy exp)) 
+
+The procedures that manipulate bindings are defined in Section 4.4.4.8. 
+4.4.4.2 The Evaluator 
+
+The qeval procedure, called by the query-driver-loop, is the basic 
+evaluator of the query system. It takes as inputs a query and a stream of 
+frames, and it returns a stream of extended frames. It identifies special 
+forms by a data-directed dispatch using get and put, just as we did in 
+implementing generic operations in Chapter 2. Any query that is not 
+identified as a special form is assumed to be a simple query, to be pro- 
+cessed by simple-query. 
+
+(define (qeval query frame-stream) 
+
+(let ((qproc (get (type query) 'qeval))) 
+(if qproc 
+
+(qproc (contents query) frame-stream) 
+(simple-query query frame-stream)))) 
+
+Type and contents, defined in Section 4.4.4.7, implement the abstract 
+syntax of the special forms. 
+
+Simple queries 
+
+The simple-query procedure handles simple queries. It takes as argu- 
+ments a simple query (a pattern) together with a stream of frames, and 
+it returns the stream formed by extending each frame by all data-base 
+matches of the query. 
+
+(define (simple-query query-pattern frame-stream) 
+(stream-f latmap 
+
+
+
+638 
+
+
+
+(lambda (frame) 
+
+(stream-append-delayed 
+(find-assertions query-pattern frame) 
+(delay (apply-rules query-pattern frame)))) 
+
+frame-stream)) 
+
+For each frame in the input stream, we use find-assertions (Section 
+4.4.4.3) to match the pattern against all assertions in the data base, pro- 
+ducing a stream of extended frames, and we use apply-rules (Sec- 
+tion 4.4.4.4) to apply all possible rules, producing another stream of ex- 
+tended frames. These two streams are combined (using stream-append- 
+delayed, Section 4.4.4.6) to make a stream of all the ways that the given 
+pattern can be satisfied consistent with the original frame (see Exer- 
+cise 4.71). The streams for the individual input frames are combined us- 
+ing stream-f latmap (Section 4.4.4.6) to form one large stream of all the 
+ways that any of the frames in the original input stream can be extended 
+to produce a match with the given pattern. 
+
+Compound queries 
+
+And queries are handled as illustrated in Figure 4.5 by the conjoin pro- 
+cedure. Conjoin takes as inputs the conjuncts and the frame stream 
+and returns the stream of extended frames. First, con join processes the 
+stream of frames to find the stream of all possible frame extensions that 
+satisfy the first query in the conjunction. Then, using this as the new 
+frame stream, it recursively applies conjoin to the rest of the queries. 
+
+(define (conjoin conjuncts frame-stream) 
+(if (empty-conjunction? conjuncts) 
+frame-stream 
+
+(conjoin (rest-con juncts conjuncts) 
+
+(qeval (first-conjunct conjuncts) frame-stream)))) 
+
+
+
+639 
+
+
+
+The expression 
+
+(put 'and 'qeval conjoin) 
+
+sets up qeval to dispatch to conjoin when an and form is encountered. 
+
+Or queries are handled similarly, as shown in Figure 4.6. The output 
+streams for the various disjuncts of the or are computed separately and 
+merged using the interleave-delayed procedure from Section 4.4.4.6. 
+(See Exercise 4.71 and Exercise 4.72.) 
+
+(define (disjoin disjuncts frame-stream) 
+(if (empty-disjunction? disjuncts) 
+t he-empty-stream 
+(interleave-delayed 
+(qeval (first-disjunct disjuncts) frame-stream) 
+(delay (disjoin (rest-disjuncts disjuncts) frame-stream))))) 
+(put 'or 'qeval disjoin) 
+
+The predicates and selectors for the syntax of conjuncts and disjuncts 
+are given in Section 4.4.4.7. 
+
+Filters 
+
+Not is handled by the method outlined in Section 4.4.2. We attempt to ex- 
+tend each frame in the input stream to satisfy the query being negated, 
+and we include a given frame in the output stream only if it cannot be 
+extended. 
+
+(define (negate operands frame-stream) 
+(stream-f latmap 
+(lambda (frame) 
+(if (stream-null? 
+
+(qeval (negated-query operands) 
+
+(singleton-stream frame))) 
+(singleton-stream frame) 
+
+
+
+640 
+
+
+
+the-empty-stream) ) 
+frame-stream)) 
+(put 'not 'qeval negate) 
+
+Lisp-value is a filter similar to not. Each frame in the stream is used 
+to instantiate the variables in the pattern, the indicated predicate is ap- 
+plied, and the frames for which the predicate returns false are filtered 
+out of the input stream. An error results if there are unbound pattern 
+variables. 
+
+(define (lisp-value call frame-stream) 
+(stream-f latmap 
+(lambda (frame) 
+(if (execute 
+
+(instantiate 
+call 
+frame 
+
+(lambda (v f) 
+
+(error "Unknown pat var: LISP-VALUE" v)))) 
+(singleton-stream frame) 
+the-empty-stream) ) 
+frame-stream)) 
+(put 'lisp-value 'qeval lisp-value) 
+
+Execute, which applies the predicate to the arguments, must eval the 
+predicate expression to get the procedure to apply. However, it must not 
+evaluate the arguments, since they are already the actual arguments, 
+not expressions whose evaluation (in Lisp) will produce the arguments. 
+Note that execute is implemented using eval and apply from the un- 
+derlying Lisp system. 
+
+(define (execute exp) 
+
+(apply (eval (predicate exp) user-initial-environment) 
+(args exp))) 
+
+
+
+641 
+
+
+
+The always-true special form provides for a query that is always satis- 
+fied. It ignores its contents (normally empty) and simply passes through 
+all the frames in the input stream. Always-true is used by the rule- 
+body selector (Section 4.4.4.7) to provide bodies for rules that were de- 
+fined without bodies (that is, rules whose conclusions are always satis- 
+fied). 
+
+(define (always-true ignore frame-stream) frame-stream) 
+(put 'always-true 'qeval always-true) 
+
+The selectors that define the syntax of not and lisp-value are given in 
+Section 4.4.4.7. 
+
+4.4.4.3 Finding Assertions 
+by Pattern Matching 
+
+Find-assertions, calledby simple-query (Section 4.4.4.2), takes as in- 
+put a pattern and a frame. It returns a stream of frames, each extending 
+the given one by a data-base match of the given pattern. It uses fetch- 
+assertions (Section 4.4.4.5) to get a stream of all the assertions in the 
+data base that should be checked for a match against the pattern and the 
+frame. The reason for fetch-assertions here is that we can often ap- 
+ply simple tests that will eliminate many of the entries in the data base 
+from the pool of candidates for a successful match. The system would 
+still work if we eliminated fetch-assertions and simply checked a 
+stream of all assertions in the data base, but the computation would be 
+less efficient because we would need to make many more calls to the 
+matcher. 
+
+(define (find-assertions pattern frame) 
+(stream-f latmap 
+(lambda (datum) (check-an-assertion datum pattern frame)) 
+(fetch-assertions pattern frame))) 
+
+
+
+642 
+
+
+
+Check-an-assertion takes as arguments a pattern, a data object (asser- 
+tion), and a frame and returns either a one-element stream containing 
+the extended frame or the-empty-stream if the match fails. 
+
+(define (check-an-assertion assertion query-pat query-frame) 
+(let ((match-result 
+
+(pattern-match query-pat assertion query-frame))) 
+(if (eq? match-result 'failed) 
+the-empty-stream 
+
+(singleton-stream match-result)))) 
+
+The basic pattern matcher returns either the symbol failed or an ex- 
+tension of the given frame. The basic idea of the matcher is to check the 
+pattern against the data, element by element, accumulating bindings for 
+the pattern variables. If the pattern and the data object are the same, the 
+match succeeds and we return the frame of bindings accumulated so far. 
+Otherwise, if the pattern is a variable we extend the current frame by 
+binding the variable to the data, so long as this is consistent with the 
+bindings already in the frame. If the pattern and the data are both pairs, 
+we (recursively) match the car of the pattern against the car of the data 
+to produce a frame; in this frame we then match the cdr of the pattern 
+against the cdr of the data. If none of these cases are applicable, the 
+match fails and we return the symbol failed. 
+
+(define (pattern-match pat dat frame) 
+(cond ((eq? frame 'failed) 'failed) 
+((equal? pat dat) frame) 
+
+((var? pat) (extend-if-consistent pat dat frame)) 
+((and (pair? pat) (pair? dat)) 
+(pattern-match 
+
+(cdr pat) 
+
+(cdr dat) 
+
+(pattern-match (car pat) (car dat) frame))) 
+
+
+
+643 
+
+
+
+(else 'failed))) 
+
+Here is the procedure that extends a frame by adding a new binding, if 
+this is consistent with the bindings already in the frame: 
+
+(define (extend-if-consistent var dat frame) 
+(let ((binding (binding-in-frame var frame))) 
+(if binding 
+
+(pattern-match (binding-value binding) dat frame) 
+(extend var dat frame)))) 
+
+If there is no binding for the variable in the frame, we simply add the 
+binding of the variable to the data. Otherwise we match, in the frame, 
+the data against the value of the variable in the frame. If the stored 
+value contains only constants, as it must if it was stored during pat- 
+tern matching by extend-if-consistent, then the match simply tests 
+whether the stored and new values are the same. If so, it returns the un- 
+modified frame; if not, it returns a failure indication. The stored value 
+may, however, contain pattern variables if it was stored during unifi- 
+cation (see Section 4.4.4.4). The recursive match of the stored pattern 
+against the new data will add or check bindings for the variables in this 
+pattern. For example, suppose we have a frame in which ?x is bound 
+to (f ?y) and ?y is unbound, and we wish to augment this frame by 
+a binding of ?x to (f b). We look up ?x and find that it is bound to 
+(f ?y). This leads us to match (f ?y) against the proposed new value 
+(f b) in the same frame. Eventually this match extends the frame by 
+adding a binding of ?y to b. ?X remains bound to (f ?y). We never 
+modify a stored binding and we never store more than one binding for 
+a given variable. 
+
+The procedures used by extend-if-consistent to manipulate bind- 
+ings are defined in Section 4.4.4.8. 
+
+
+
+644 
+
+
+
+Patterns with dotted tails 
+
+If a pattern contains a dot followed by a pattern variable, the pattern 
+variable matches the rest of the data list (rather than the next element 
+of the data list), just as one would expect with the dotted-tail notation 
+described in Exercise 2.20. Although the pattern matcher we have just 
+implemented doesn't look for dots, it does behave as we want. This is 
+because the Lisp read primitive, which is used by query-driver-loop 
+to read the query and represent it as a list structure, treats dots in a 
+special way. 
+
+When read sees a dot, instead of making the next item be the next 
+element of a list (the car of a cons whose cdr will be the rest of the list) 
+it makes the next item be the cdr of the list structure. For example, the 
+list structure produced by read for the pattern (computer ?type) could 
+be constructed by evaluating the expression (cons 'computer (cons 
+'?type '())), and that for (computer . ?type) could be constructed 
+by evaluating the expression (cons 'computer '?type). 
+
+Thus, as pattern-match recursively compares cars and cdrs of a 
+data list and a pattern that had a dot, it eventually matches the variable 
+after the dot (which is a cdr of the pattern) against a sublist of the data 
+list, binding the variable to that list. For example, matching the pattern 
+(computer . ?type) against (computer programmer trainee) will 
+match ?type against the list (programmer trainee). 
+
+4.4.4.4 Rules and Unification 
+
+Apply-rules is the rule analog of find-assertions (Section 4.4.4.3). 
+It takes as input a pattern and a frame, and it forms a stream of exten- 
+sion frame s by applying rule s from the data base.Stream-flatmapmaps 
+apply-a-rule down the stream of possibly applicable rules (selected 
+
+
+
+645 
+
+
+
+by fetch-rules, Section 4.4.4.5) and combines the resulting streams of 
+frames. 
+
+(define (apply-rules pattern frame) 
+(stream-f latmap (lambda (rule) 
+
+(apply-a-rule rule pattern frame)) 
+(fetch-rules pattern frame))) 
+
+Apply-a-rule applies rules using the method outlined in Section 4.4.2. 
+It first augments its argument frame by unifying the rule conclusion 
+with the pattern in the given frame. If this succeeds, it evaluates the 
+rule body in this new frame. 
+
+Before any of this happens, however, the program renames all the 
+variables in the rule with unique new names. The reason for this is to 
+prevent the variables for different rule applications from becoming con- 
+fused with each other. For instance, if two rules both use a variable 
+named ?x, then each one may add a binding for ?x to the frame when it 
+is applied. These two ?x's have nothing to do with each other, and we 
+should not be fooled into thinking that the two bindings must be con- 
+sistent. Rather than rename variables, we could devise a more clever 
+environment structure; however, the renaming approach we have cho- 
+sen here is the most straightforward, even if not the most efficient. (See 
+Exercise 4.79.) Here is the apply-a-rule procedure: 
+
+(define (apply-a-rule rule query-pattern query-frame) 
+(let ((clean-rule (rename-variables-in rule))) 
+(let ( (unify-result (unify-match query-pattern 
+
+(conclusion clean-rule) 
+query-frame))) 
+
+(if (eq? unify-result 'failed) 
+t he-empty-stream 
+(qeval (rule-body clean-rule) 
+
+(singleton-stream unify-result)))))) 
+
+
+
+646 
+
+
+
+The selectors rule-body and conclusion that extract parts of a rule are 
+defined in Section 4.4.4.7. 
+
+We generate unique variable names by associating a unique identi- 
+fier (such as a number) with each rule application and combining this 
+identifier with the original variable names. For example, if the rule- 
+application identifier is 7, we might change each ?x in the rule to ?x-7 
+and each ?y in the rule to ?y-7. (Make-new-variable and new-rule- 
+application-id are included with the syntax procedures in Section 
+4.4.4.7.) 
+
+(define (rename-variables-in rule) 
+
+(let ((rule-application-id (new-rule-application-id))) 
+(define (tree-walk exp) 
+(cond ((var? exp) 
+
+(make-new-variable exp rule-application-id)) 
+((pair? exp) 
+(cons (tree-walk (car exp)) 
+
+(tree-walk (cdr exp)))) 
+(else exp))) 
+(tree-walk rule))) 
+
+The unification algorithm is implemented as a procedure that takes as 
+inputs two patterns and a frame and returns either the extended frame 
+or the symbol failed. The unifier is like the pattern matcher except 
+that it is symmetrical— variables are allowed on both sides of the match. 
+Unify-match is basically the same as pattern-match, except that there 
+is extra code (marked "***" below) to handle the case where the object 
+on the right side of the match is a variable. 
+
+(define (unify-match p1 p2 frame) 
+(cond ((eq? frame 'failed) 'failed) 
+((equal? p1 p2) frame) 
+
+((var? p1) (extend-if-possible p1 p2 frame)) 
+
+
+
+647 
+
+
+
+((var? p2) (extend-if-possible p2 p1 frame)) ; *** 
+((and (pair? p1) (pair? p2)) 
+(unify-match (cdr p1 ) 
+(cdr p2) 
+
+(unify-match (car pi) 
+(car p2) 
+frame))) 
+
+(else 'failed))) 
+
+In unification, as in one-sided pattern matching, we want to accept a 
+proposed extension of the frame only if it is consistent with existing 
+bindings. The procedure extend-if-possible used in unification is the 
+same as the extend- if -consistent used in pattern matching except for 
+two special checks, marked "***" in the program below. In the first case, 
+if the variable we are trying to match is not bound, but the value we are 
+trying to match it with is itself a (different) variable, it is necessary to 
+check to see if the value is bound, and if so, to match its value. If both 
+parties to the match are unbound, we may bind either to the other. 
+
+The second check deals with attempts to bind a variable to a pat- 
+tern that includes that variable. Such a situation can occur whenever a 
+variable is repeated in both patterns. Consider, for example, unifying 
+the two patterns (?x ?x) and (?y (expression involving ?y)) in a 
+frame where both ?x and ?y are unbound. First ?x is matched against 
+?y, making a binding of ?x to ?y. Next, the same ?x is matched against 
+the given expression involving ?y. Since ?x is already bound to ?y, this 
+results in matching ?y against the expression. If we think of the unifier 
+as finding a set of values for the pattern variables that make the patterns 
+the same, then these patterns imply instructions to find a ?y such that 
+?y is equal to the expression involving ?y. There is no general method 
+for solving such equations, so we reject such bindings; these cases are 
+
+
+
+648 
+
+
+
+recognized by the predicate depends-on?. 80 On the other hand, we do 
+not want to reject attempts to bind a variable to itself. For example, con- 
+sider unifying (?x ?x) and (?y ?y). The second attempt to bind ?x to 
+?y matches ?y (the stored value of ?x) against ?y (the new value of ?x). 
+This is taken care of by the equal? clause of unify-match. 
+
+(define (extend-if-possible var val frame) 
+(let ((binding (binding-in-frame var frame))) 
+(cond (binding 
+
+80 In general, unifying ?y with an expression involving ?y would require our being 
+able to find a fixed point of the equation ?y = (expression involving ?y). It is sometimes 
+possible to syntactically form an expression that appears to be the solution. For exam- 
+ple, ?y = (f ?y) seems to have the fixed point ( f (f (f ... ))), which we can produce 
+by beginning with the expression (f ?y) and repeatedly substituting (f ?y) for ?y. 
+Unfortunately, not every such equation has a meaningful fixed point. The issues that 
+arise here are similar to the issues of manipulating infinite series in mathematics. For 
+example, we know that 2 is the solution to the equation y = 1 + y/2. Beginning with 
+the expression 1 + y/2 and repeatedly substituting 1 + y/2 for y gives 
+
+
+
+
+which leads to 
+
+1 1 1 
+
+2 = 1+ - + - + - + 
+
+2 4 8 
+
+However, if we try the same manipulation beginning with the observation that -1 is the 
+solution to the equation y = 1 + 2y, we obtain 
+
+-1 = y = l + 2y = 1 + 2(1 + 2y) = 1 + 2 + 4y = . . . , 
+
+which leads to 
+
+-1 = 1 + 2 + 4 + 8 + .... 
+
+Although the formal manipulations used in deriving these two equations are identical, 
+the first result is a valid assertion about infinite series but the second is not. Similarly, for 
+our unification results, reasoning with an arbitrary syntactically constructed expression 
+may lead to errors. 
+
+
+
+649 
+
+
+
+(unify-match (binding-value binding) val frame)) 
+((var? val) ; *** 
+
+(let ((binding (binding-in-frame val frame))) 
+(if binding 
+
+(unify-match 
+
+var (binding-value binding) frame) 
+(extend var val frame)))) 
+( (depends-on? val var frame) ; *** 
+'failed) 
+
+(else (extend var val frame))))) 
+
+Depends-on? is a predicate that tests whether an expression proposed 
+to be the value of a pattern variable depends on the variable. This must 
+be done relative to the current frame because the expression may con- 
+tain occurrences of a variable that already has a value that depends on 
+our test variable. The structure of depends-on? is a simple recursive 
+tree walk in which we substitute for the values of variables whenever 
+necessary. 
+
+(define (depends-on? exp var frame) 
+(define (tree-walk e) 
+(cond ((var? e) 
+
+(if (equal? var e) 
+true 
+
+(let ((b (binding-in-frame e frame))) 
+(if b 
+
+(tree-walk (binding-value b)) 
+false)))) 
+
+((pair? e) 
+(or (tree-walk (car e)) 
+(tree-walk (cdr e)))) 
+(else false))) 
+(tree-walk exp)) 
+
+
+
+650 
+
+
+
+4.4.4.5 Maintaining the Data Base 
+
+One important problem in designing logic programming languages is 
+that of arranging things so that as few irrelevant data-base entries as 
+possible will be examined in checking a given pattern. In our system, in 
+addition to storing all assertions in one big stream, we store all asser- 
+tions whose cars are constant symbols in separate streams, in a table 
+indexed by the symbol. To fetch an assertion that may match a pattern, 
+we first check to see if the car of the pattern is a constant symbol. If 
+so, we return (to be tested using the matcher) all the stored assertions 
+that have the same car. If the pattern's car is not a constant symbol, 
+we return all the stored assertions. Cleverer methods could also take 
+advantage of information in the frame, or try also to optimize the case 
+where the car of the pattern is not a constant symbol. We avoid build- 
+ing our criteria for indexing (using the car, handling only the case of 
+constant symbols) into the program; instead we call on predicates and 
+selectors that embody our criteria. 
+
+(define THE-ASSERTIONS the-empty-stream) 
+(define (fetch-assertions pattern frame) 
+(if (use-index? pattern) 
+
+(get-indexed-assertions pattern) 
+(get-all-assertions))) 
+(define (get-all-assertions) THE-ASSERTIONS) 
+(define (get-indexed-assertions pattern) 
+
+(get-stream (index-key-of pattern) 'assertion-stream)) 
+
+Get-stream looks up a stream in the table and returns an empty stream 
+if nothing is stored there. 
+
+(define (get-stream keyl key2) 
+(let ((s (get keyl key2))) 
+(if s s the-empty-stream))) 
+
+
+
+651 
+
+
+
+Rules are stored similarly, using the car of the rule conclusion. Rule 
+conclusions are arbitrary patterns, however, so they differ from asser- 
+tions in that they can contain variables. A pattern whose car is a con- 
+stant symbol can match rules whose conclusions start with a variable as 
+well as rules whose conclusions have the same car. Thus, when fetch- 
+ing rules that might match a pattern whose car is a constant symbol we 
+fetch all rules whose conclusions start with a variable as well as those 
+whose conclusions have the same car as the pattern. For this purpose 
+we store all rules whose conclusions start with a variable in a separate 
+stream in our table, indexed by the symbol ?. 
+
+(define THE-RULES the-empty-stream) 
+(define (fetch-rules pattern frame) 
+(if (use-index? pattern) 
+
+(get-indexed-rules pattern) 
+(get-all-rules))) 
+(define (get-all-rules) THE-RULES) 
+(define (get-indexed-rules pattern) 
+(stream-append 
+(get-stream (index-key-of pattern) 'rule-stream) 
+(get-stream '? 'rule-stream))) 
+
+Add-rule-or-assertion ! is used by query-driver-loop to add asser- 
+tions and rules to the data base. Each item is stored in the index, if ap- 
+propriate, and in a stream of all assertions or rules in the data base. 
+
+(define (add-rule-or-assertion! assertion) 
+(if (rule? assertion) 
+
+(add-rule! assertion) 
+(add-assertion ! assertion))) 
+(define (add-assertion! assertion) 
+(store-assert ion- in- index assertion) 
+(let ((old-assertions THE-ASSERTIONS) ) 
+
+
+
+652 
+
+
+
+(set! THE-ASSERTIONS 
+
+(cons-stream assertion old-assertions)) 
+
+'ok)) 
+
+(define (add-rule! rule) 
+(store-rule-in-index rule) 
+(let ((old-rules THE-RULES)) 
+
+(set! THE-RULES (cons-stream rule old-rules)) 
+'ok)) 
+
+To actually store an assertion or a rule, we check to see if it can be 
+indexed. If so, we store it in the appropriate stream. 
+
+(define (store-assertion-in-index assertion) 
+(if (indexable? assertion) 
+
+(let ((key (index-key-of assertion))) 
+(let ((current-assertion-stream 
+
+(get-stream key 'assertion-stream))) 
+(put key 
+
+' assertion-stream 
+(cons-stream 
+assertion 
+
+current-assertion-stream)))))) 
+(define (store-rule-in-index rule) 
+(let ((pattern (conclusion rule))) 
+(if (indexable? pattern) 
+
+(let ((key (index-key-of pattern))) 
+(let ((current-rule-stream 
+
+(get-stream key 'rule-stream))) 
+(put key 
+
+' rule-stream 
+(cons-stream rule 
+
+cur rent- rule-stream) )))))) 
+
+The following procedures define how the data-base index is used. A pat- 
+tern (an assertion or a rule conclusion) will be stored in the table if it 
+
+
+
+653 
+
+
+
+starts with a variable or a constant symbol. 
+
+(define (indexable? pat) 
+
+(or (constant-symbol? (car pat)) 
+(var? (car pat)))) 
+
+The key under which a pattern is stored in the table is either ? (if it starts 
+with a variable) or the constant symbol with which it starts. 
+
+(define (index-key-of pat) 
+(let ((key (car pat))) 
+(if (var? key) '? key))) 
+
+The index will be used to retrieve items that might match a pattern if 
+the pattern starts with a constant symbol. 
+
+(define (use-index? pat) (constant-symbol? (car pat))) 
+
+Exercise 4.70: What is the purpose of the let bindings 
+in the procedures add-assertion ! andadd-rule! ? What 
+would be wrong with the following implementation of add - 
+assertion! ? Hint: Recall the definition of the infinite stream 
+of ones in Section 3.5.2: (define ones (cons-stream 1 
+ones)). 
+
+(define (add-assertion! assertion) 
+(store-assert ion-in-index assertion) 
+(set! THE-ASSERTIONS 
+
+(cons-stream assertion THE-ASSERTIONS)) 
+
+'ok) 
+
+4.4.4.6 Stream Operations 
+
+The query system uses a few stream operations that were not presented 
+in Chapter 3. 
+
+
+
+654 
+
+
+
+Stream-append-delayed and interleave-delayed are just like stream- 
+append and interleave (Section 3.5.3), except that they take a delayed 
+argument (like the integral procedure in Section 3.5.4). This postpones 
+looping in some cases (see Exercise 4.71). 
+
+(define (stream-append-delayed si delayed-s2) 
+(if (stream-null? si) 
+(force delayed-s2) 
+(cons-stream 
+(stream-car si) 
+(stream-append-delayed 
+(stream-cdr si) 
+delayed-s2)))) 
+(define (interleave-delayed s1 delayed-s2) 
+(if (stream-null? si) 
+(force delayed-s2) 
+(cons-stream 
+(stream-car si) 
+(interleave-delayed 
+(force delayed-s2) 
+(delay (stream-cdr si)))))) 
+
+Stream-f latmap, which is used throughout the query evaluator to map 
+a procedure over a stream of frames and combine the resulting streams 
+of frames, is the stream analog of the f latmap procedure introduced 
+for ordinary lists in Section 2.2.3. Unlike ordinary f latmap, however, 
+we accumulate the streams with an interleaving process, rather than 
+simply appending them (see Exercise 4.72 and Exercise 4.73). 
+
+(define (stream-f latmap proc s) 
+
+(f latten-stream (stream-map proc s))) 
+
+(define (f latten-stream stream) 
+(if (stream-null? stream) 
+
+
+
+655 
+
+
+
+t he-empty-stream 
+(interleave-delayed 
+(stream-car stream) 
+
+(delay (f latten-stream (stream-cdr stream)))))) 
+
+The evaluator also uses the following simple procedure to generate a 
+stream consisting of a single element: 
+
+(define (singleton-stream x) 
+
+(cons-stream x the-empty-stream) ) 
+
+4.4.4.7 Query Syntax Procedures 
+
+Type and contents, usedby qeval (Section 4.4.4.2), specify that a special 
+form is identified by the symbol in its car. They are the same as the 
+type-tag and contents procedures in Section 2.4.2, except for the error 
+message. 
+
+(define (type exp) 
+(if (pair? exp) 
+(car exp) 
+
+(error "Unknown expression TYPE" exp))) 
+(define (contents exp) 
+(if (pair? exp) 
+(cdr exp) 
+
+(error "Unknown expression CONTENTS" exp))) 
+
+The following procedures, usedby query-driver-loop (in Section 4.4.4.1), 
+specify that rules and assertions are added to the data base by expres- 
+sions of the form (assert! (rule-or-assertion)): 
+
+(define (assertion-to-be-added? exp) 
+
+(eq? (type exp) 'assert!)) 
+(define (add-assertion-body exp) (car (contents exp))) 
+
+
+
+656 
+
+
+
+Here are the syntax definitions for the and, or, not, and lisp-value 
+special forms (Section 4.4.4.2): 
+
+(define (empty-conjunction? exps) (null? exps)) 
+(define (first-conjunct exps) (car exps)) 
+(define (rest-conjuncts exps) (cdr exps)) 
+(define (empty-disjunction? exps) (null? exps)) 
+(define (first-disjunct exps) (car exps)) 
+(define (rest-disjuncts exps) (cdr exps)) 
+(define (negated-query exps) (car exps)) 
+(define (predicate exps) (car exps)) 
+(define (args exps) (cdr exps)) 
+
+The following three procedures define the syntax of rules: 
+
+(define (rule? statement) 
+
+(tagged-list? statement 'rule)) 
+(define (conclusion rule) (cadr rule)) 
+(define (rule-body rule) 
+
+(if (null? (cddr rule)) '(always-true) (caddr rule))) 
+
+Query-driver-loop (Section 4.4.4.1) calls query-syntax-process to trans- 
+form pattern variables in the expression, which have the form ?symbol, 
+into the internal format (? symbol). That is to say, a pattern such as 
+(job ?x ?y) is actually represented internally by the system as (job 
+(? x) (? y)). This increases the efficiency of query processing, since 
+it means that the system can check to see if an expression is a pattern 
+variable by checking whether the car of the expression is the symbol 
+?, rather than having to extract characters from the symbol. The syntax 
+transformation is accomplished by the following procedure: 81 
+
+81 Most Lisp systems give the user the ability to modify the ordinary read pro- 
+cedure to perform such transformations by denning reader macro characters. Quoted 
+expressions are already handled in this way: The reader automatically translates 
+
+
+
+657 
+
+
+
+(define (query-syntax-process exp) 
+
+(map-over-symbols expand-question-mark exp)) 
+(define (map-over-symbols proc exp) 
+(cond ((pair? exp) 
+
+(cons (map-over-symbols proc (car exp)) 
+
+(map-over-symbols proc (cdr exp)))) 
+((symbol? exp) (proc exp)) 
+(else exp))) 
+(define (expand-question-mark symbol) 
+(let ((chars (symbol->string symbol))) 
+(if (string=? (substring chars 0 1) "?") 
+(list '? 
+
+(string->symbol 
+(substring chars 1 (string-length chars)))) 
+symbol))) 
+
+Once the variables are transformed in this way, the variables in a pattern 
+are lists starting with ?, and the constant symbols (which need to be 
+recognized for data-base indexing, Section 4.4.4.5) are just the symbols. 
+
+(define (var? exp) (tagged-list? exp '?)) 
+(define (constant-symbol? exp) (symbol? exp)) 
+
+Unique variables are constructed during rule application (in Section 
+4.4.4.4) by means of the following procedures. The unique identifier for 
+a rule application is a number, which is incremented each time a rule is 
+applied. 
+
+(define rule-counter 0) 
+
+'expression into (quote expression) before the evaluator sees it. We could arrange 
+for ?expression to be transformed into (? expression) in the same way; however, 
+for the sake of clarity we have included the transformation procedure here explicitly. 
+
+Expand-question-mark and contract-question-mark use several procedures with 
+string in their names. These are Scheme primitives. 
+
+
+
+658 
+
+
+
+(define (new- rule-application- id) 
+
+(set! rule-counter (+ 1 rule-counter)) 
+rule-counter) 
+
+(define (make-new-variable var rule-application-id) 
+(cons '? (cons rule-application-id (cdr var)))) 
+
+When query-driver-loop instantiates the query to print the answer, 
+it converts any unbound pattern variables back to the right form for 
+printing, using 
+
+(define (contract-question-mark variable) 
+(string->symbol 
+(string-append "?" 
+
+(if (number? (cadr variable)) 
+
+(string-append (symbol->string (caddr variable)) 
+
+(number->string (cadr variable))) 
+(symbol->string (cadr variable)))))) 
+
+4.4.4.8 Frames and Bindings 
+
+Frames are represented as lists of bindings, which are variable -value 
+pairs: 
+
+(define (make-binding variable value) 
+
+(cons variable value)) 
+(define (binding-variable binding) (car binding)) 
+(define (binding-value binding) (cdr binding)) 
+(define (binding-in-frame variable frame) 
+
+(assoc variable frame)) 
+(define (extend variable value frame) 
+
+(cons (make-binding variable value) frame)) 
+
+
+
+659 
+
+
+
+Exercise 4.7T: Louis Reasoner wonders why the simple- 
+query and disjoin procedures (Section 4.4.4.2) are imple- 
+mented using explicit delay operations, rather than being 
+defined as follows: 
+
+(define (simple-query query-pattern frame-stream) 
+(stream-f latmap 
+(lambda (frame) 
+(stream-append 
+(find-assertions query-pattern frame) 
+(apply-rules query-pattern frame))) 
+frame-stream) ) 
+(define (disjoin disjuncts frame-stream) 
+(if (empty-disjunction? disjuncts) 
+t he-empty-stream 
+(interleave 
+(qeval (first-disjunct disjuncts) 
+
+frame-stream) 
+(disjoin (rest-dis juncts disjuncts) 
+frame-stream)))) 
+
+Can you give examples of queries where these simpler def- 
+initions would lead to undesirable behavior? 
+
+Exercise 4.72: Why do disjoin and stream-f latmap in- 
+terleave the streams rather than simply append them? Give 
+examples that illustrate why interleaving works better. (Hint: 
+Why did we use interleave in Section 3.5.3?) 
+
+Exercise 4.73: Why does f latten-stream use delay ex- 
+plicitly? What would be wrong with defining it as follows: 
+
+(define (f latten-stream stream) 
+
+
+
+660 
+
+
+
+(if (stream-null? stream) 
+t he-empty-stream 
+(interleave 
+(stream-car stream) 
+
+(f latten-stream (stream-cdr stream))))) 
+
+Exercise 4.74: Alyssa P. Hacker proposes to use a sim- 
+pler version of stream-f latmap in negate, lisp-value, 
+and find-assertions. She observes that the procedure that 
+is mapped over the frame stream in these cases always pro- 
+duces either the empty stream or a singleton stream, so no 
+interleaving is needed when combining these streams. 
+
+a. Fill in the missing expressions in Alyssa's program. 
+
+(define (simple-stream-f latmap proc s) 
+(simple-flatten (stream-map proc s))) 
+
+(define (simple-flatten stream) 
+(stream-map (??) 
+
+(stream-filter (??) stream))) 
+
+b. Does the query system's behavior change if we change 
+it in this way? 
+
+Exercise 4.75: Implement for the query language a new 
+special form called unique. Unique should succeed if there 
+is precisely one item in the data base satisfying a specified 
+query. For example, 
+
+(unique (job ?x (computer wizard))) 
+
+should print the one -item stream 
+
+(unique (job (Bitdiddle Ben) (computer wizard))) 
+
+
+
+661 
+
+
+
+since Ben is the only computer wizard, and 
+(unique (job ?x (computer programmer))) 
+
+should print the empty stream, since there is more than one 
+computer programmer. Moreover, 
+
+(and (job ?x ?j) (unique (job ?anyone ?j))) 
+
+should list all the jobs that are filled by only one person, 
+and the people who fill them. 
+
+There are two parts to implementing unique. The first is to 
+write a procedure that handles this special form, and the 
+second is to make qeval dispatch to that procedure. The 
+second part is trivial, since qeval does its dispatching in 
+a data-directed way. If your procedure is called uniquely- 
+asserted, all you need to do is 
+
+(put 'unique 'qeval uniquely-asserted) 
+
+and qeval will dispatch to this procedure for every query 
+whose type (car) is the symbol unique. 
+
+The real problem is to write the procedure uniquely-asserted. 
+This should take as input the contents (cdr) of the unique 
+query, together with a stream of frames. For each frame 
+in the stream, it should use qeval to find the stream of all 
+extensions to the frame that satisfy the given query. Any 
+stream that does not have exactly one item in it should be 
+eliminated. The remaining streams should be passed back 
+to be accumulated into one big stream that is the result of 
+the unique query. This is similar to the implementation of 
+the not special form. 
+
+
+
+662 
+
+
+
+Test your implementation by forming a query that lists all 
+people who supervise precisely one person. 
+
+Exercise 4.76: Our implementation of and as a series com- 
+bination of queries (Figure 4.5) is elegant, but it is ineffi- 
+cient because in processing the second query of the and we 
+must scan the data base for each frame produced by the 
+first query. If the data base has n elements, and a typical 
+query produces a number of output frames proportional to 
+n (say n/k), then scanning the data base for each frame pro- 
+duced by the first query will require n 2 /k calls to the pattern 
+matcher. Another approach would be to process the two 
+clauses of the and separately, then look for all pairs of out- 
+put frames that are compatible. If each query produces n/k 
+output frames, then this means that we must perform n 2 /k 2 
+compatibility checks— a factor of k fewer than the number 
+of matches required in our current method. 
+
+Devise an implementation of and that uses this strategy. 
+You must implement a procedure that takes two frames as 
+inputs, checks whether the bindings in the frames are com- 
+patible, and, if so, produces a frame that merges the two 
+sets of bindings. This operation is similar to unification. 
+
+Exercise 4.77: In Section 4.4.3 we saw that not and lisp- 
+value can cause the query language to give "wrong" an- 
+swers if these filtering operations are applied to frames in 
+which variables are unbound. Devise a way to fix this short- 
+coming. One idea is to perform the filtering in a "delayed" 
+manner by appending to the frame a "promise" to filter that 
+is fulfilled only when enough variables have been bound 
+
+
+
+663 
+
+
+
+to make the operation possible. We could wait to perform 
+filtering until all other operations have been performed. 
+However, for efficiency's sake, we would like to perform 
+filtering as soon as possible so as to cut down on the num- 
+ber of intermediate frames generated. 
+
+Exercise 4.78: Redesign the query language as a nonde- 
+terministic program to be implemented using the evalua- 
+tor of Section 4.3, rather than as a stream process. In this 
+approach, each query will produce a single answer (rather 
+than the stream of all answers) and the user can type try- 
+again to see more answers. You should find that much of 
+the mechanism we built in this section is subsumed by non- 
+deterministic search and backtracking. You will probably 
+also find, however, that your new query language has sub- 
+tle differences in behavior from the one implemented here. 
+Can you find examples that illustrate this difference? 
+
+Exercise 4.79: When we implemented the Lisp evaluator in 
+Section 4.1, we saw how to use local environments to avoid 
+name conflicts between the parameters of procedures. For 
+example, in evaluating 
+
+(define (square x) (* x x)) 
+(define (sum-of-squares x y) 
+(+ (square x) (square y))) 
+(sum-of-squares 3 4) 
+
+there is no confusion between the x in square and the x 
+in sum-of-squares, because we evaluate the body of each 
+procedure in an environment that is specially constructed 
+
+
+
+664 
+
+
+
+to contain bindings for the local variables. In the query sys- 
+tem, we used a different strategy to avoid name conflicts in 
+applying rules. Each time we apply a rule we rename the 
+variables with new names that are guaranteed to be unique. 
+The analogous strategy for the Lisp evaluator would be to 
+do away with local environments and simply rename the 
+variables in the body of a procedure each time we apply 
+the procedure. 
+
+Implement for the query language a rule-application method 
+that uses environments rather than renaming. See if you 
+can build on your environment structure to create constructs 
+in the query language for dealing with large systems, such 
+as the rule analog of block-structured procedures. Can you 
+relate any of this to the problem of making deductions in a 
+context (e.g., "If I supposed that P were true, then I would be 
+able to deduce A and B.") as a method of problem solving? 
+(This problem is open-ended. A good answer is probably 
+worth a Ph.D.) 
+
+
+
+665 
+
+
+
+5 
+
+
+
+Computing with Register Machines 
+
+
+
+My aim is to show that the heavenly machine is not a kind 
+of divine, live being, but a kind of clockwork (and he who 
+believes that a clock has soul attributes the maker's glory 
+to the work), insofar as nearly all the manifold motions are 
+caused by a most simple and material force, just as all mo- 
+tions of the clock are caused by a single weight. 
+
+—Johannes Kepler (letter to Herwart von Hohenburg, 1605) 
+
+We began this book by studying processes and by describing pro- 
+cesses in terms of procedures written in Lisp. To explain the mean- 
+ings of these procedures, we used a succession of models of evaluation: 
+the substitution model of Chapter 1, the environment model of Chap- 
+ter 3, and the metacircular evaluator of Chapter 4. Our examination of 
+the metacircular evaluator, in particular, dispelled much of the mys- 
+tery of how Lisp-like languages are interpreted. But even the metacir- 
+
+
+
+666 
+
+
+
+cular evaluator leaves important questions unanswered, because it fails 
+to elucidate the mechanisms of control in a Lisp system. For instance, 
+the evaluator does not explain how the evaluation of a subexpression 
+manages to return a value to the expression that uses this value, nor 
+does the evaluator explain how some recursive procedures generate it- 
+erative processes (that is, are evaluated using constant space) whereas 
+other recursive procedures generate recursive processes. These ques- 
+tions remain unanswered because the metacircular evaluator is itself a 
+Lisp program and hence inherits the control structure of the underlying 
+Lisp system. In order to provide a more complete description of the con- 
+trol structure of the Lisp evaluator, we must work at a more primitive 
+level than Lisp itself. 
+
+In this chapter we will describe processes in terms of the step-by- 
+step operation of a traditional computer. Such a computer, or register 
+machine, sequentially executes instructions that manipulate the contents 
+of a fixed set of storage elements called registers. A typical register- 
+machine instruction applies a primitive operation to the contents of 
+some registers and assigns the result to another register. Our descrip- 
+tions of processes executed by register machines will look very much 
+like "machine -language" programs for traditional computers. However, 
+instead of focusing on the machine language of any particular com- 
+puter, we will examine several Lisp procedures and design a specific 
+register machine to execute each procedure. Thus, we will approach our 
+task from the perspective of a hardware architect rather than that of 
+a machine-language computer programmer. In designing register ma- 
+chines, we will develop mechanisms for implementing important pro- 
+gramming constructs such as recursion. We will also present a language 
+for describing designs for register machines. In Section 5.2 we will im- 
+plement a Lisp program that uses these descriptions to simulate the ma- 
+
+
+
+667 
+
+
+
+chines we design. 
+
+Most of the primitive operations of our register machines are very 
+simple. For example, an operation might add the numbers fetched from 
+two registers, producing a result to be stored into a third register. Such 
+an operation can be performed by easily described hardware. In order 
+to deal with list structure, however, we will also use the memory opera- 
+tions car, cdr, and cons, which require an elaborate storage-allocation 
+mechanism. In Section 5.3 we study their implementation in terms of 
+more elementary operations. 
+
+In Section 5.4, after we have accumulated experience formulating 
+simple procedures as register machines, we will design a machine that 
+carries out the algorithm described by the metacircular evaluator of Sec- 
+tion 4.1. This will fill in the gap in our understanding of how Scheme ex- 
+pressions are interpreted, by providing an explicit model for the mech- 
+anisms of control in the evaluator. In Section 5.5 we will study a simple 
+compiler that translates Scheme programs into sequences of instruc- 
+tions that can be executed directly with the registers and operations of 
+the evaluator register machine. 
+
+5.1 Designing Register Machines 
+
+To design a register machine, we must design its data paths (registers 
+and operations) and the controller that sequences these operations. To 
+illustrate the design of a simple register machine, let us examine Eu- 
+clid's Algorithm, which is used to compute the greatest common divi- 
+sor (gcd) of two integers. As we saw in Section 1.2.5, Euclid's Algorithm 
+can be carried out by an iterative process, as specified by the following 
+procedure: 
+
+
+
+668 
+
+
+
+(define (gcd a b) 
+(if (= b 0) 
+a 
+
+(gcd b (remainder a b)))) 
+
+A machine to carry out this algorithm must keep track of two numbers, 
+a and b, so let us assume that these numbers are stored in two registers 
+with those names. The basic operations required are testing whether the 
+contents of register b is zero and computing the remainder of the con- 
+tents of register a divided by the contents of register b. The remainder 
+operation is a complex process, but assume for the moment that we have 
+a primitive device that computes remainders. On each cycle of the gcd 
+algorithm, the contents of register a must be replaced by the contents 
+of register b, and the contents of b must be replaced by the remainder 
+of the old contents of a divided by the old contents of b. It would be 
+convenient if these replacements could be done simultaneously, but in 
+our model of register machines we will assume that only one register 
+can be assigned a new value at each step. To accomplish the replace- 
+ments, our machine will use a third "temporary" register, which we call 
+t. (First the remainder will be placed in t, then the contents of b will be 
+placed in a, and finally the remainder stored in t will be placed in b.) 
+
+We can illustrate the registers and operations required for this ma- 
+chine by using the data-path diagram shown in Figure 5.1. In this di- 
+agram, the registers (a, b, and t) are represented by rectangles. Each 
+way to assign a value to a register is indicated by an arrow with an X 
+behind the head, pointing from the source of data to the register. We 
+can think of the X as a button that, when pushed, allows the value at 
+the source to "flow" into the designated register. The label next to each 
+button is the name we will use to refer to the button. The names are 
+arbitrary, and can be chosen to have mnemonic value (for example, a«-b 
+
+
+
+669 
+
+
+
+
+Figure 5.T: Data paths for a gcd machine. 
+
+denotes pushing the button that assigns the contents of register b to 
+register a). The source of data for a register can be another register (as 
+in the a«-b assignment), an operation result (as in the t«-r assignment), 
+or a constant (a built-in value that cannot be changed, represented in a 
+data-path diagram by a triangle containing the constant). 
+
+An operation that computes a value from constants and the con- 
+tents of registers is represented in a data-path diagram by a trapezoid 
+containing a name for the operation. For example, the box marked rem 
+in Figure 5.1 represents an operation that computes the remainder of 
+the contents of the registers a and b to which it is attached. Arrows 
+(without buttons) point from the input registers and constants to the 
+box, and arrows connect the operation's output value to registers. A 
+test is represented by a circle containing a name for the test. For exam- 
+ple, our gcd machine has an operation that tests whether the contents 
+of register b is zero. A test also has arrows from its input registers and 
+constants, but it has no output arrows; its value is used by the controller 
+rather than by the datapaths. Overall, the data-path diagram shows the 
+registers and operations that are required for the machine and how they 
+
+
+
+670 
+
+
+
+start 
+
+
+
+
+Figure 5.2: Controller for a gcd machine. 
+
+
+
+must be connected. If we view the arrows as wires and the X buttons as 
+switches, the data-path diagram is very like the wiring diagram for a 
+machine that could be constructed from electrical components. 
+
+In order for the data paths to actually compute gcds, the buttons 
+must be pushed in the correct sequence. We will describe this sequence 
+in terms of a controller diagram, as illustrated in Figure 5.2. The ele- 
+ments of the controller diagram indicate how the data-path components 
+should be operated. The rectangular boxes in the controller diagram 
+identify data-path buttons to be pushed, and the arrows describe the 
+sequencing from one step to the next. The diamond in the diagram rep- 
+resents a decision. One of the two sequencing arrows will be followed, 
+depending on the value of the data-path test identified in the diamond. 
+We can interpret the controller in terms of a physical analogy: Think 
+of the diagram as a maze in which a marble is rolling. When the mar- 
+ble rolls into a box, it pushes the data-path button that is named by the 
+box. When the marble rolls into a decision node (such as the test for 
+
+
+
+671 
+
+
+
+b = 0), it leaves the node on the path determined by the result of the 
+indicated test. Taken together, the data paths and the controller com- 
+pletely describe a machine for computing gcds. We start the controller 
+(the rolling marble) at the place marked start, after placing numbers 
+in registers a and b. When the controller reaches done, we will find the 
+value of the gcd in register a. 
+
+Exercise 5.T: Design a register machine to compute facto- 
+rials using the iterative algorithm specified by the following 
+procedure. Draw data-path and controller diagrams for this 
+machine. 
+
+(define (factorial n) 
+
+(define (iter product counter) 
+(if (> counter n) 
+product 
+
+(iter (* counter product) 
+(+ counter 1)))) 
+
+(iter 1 1)) 
+
+5.1.1 A Language for Describing Register Machines 
+
+Data-path and controller diagrams are adequate for representing simple 
+machines such as gcd, but they are unwieldy for describing large ma- 
+chines such as a Lisp interpreter. To make it possible to deal with com- 
+plex machines, we will create a language that presents, in textual form, 
+all the information given by the data-path and controller diagrams. We 
+will start with a notation that directly mirrors the diagrams. 
+
+We define the data paths of a machine by describing the registers 
+and the operations. To describe a register, we give it a name and specify 
+the buttons that control assignment to it. We give each of these buttons 
+
+
+
+672 
+
+
+
+a name and specify the source of the data that enters the register under 
+the button's control. (The source is a register, a constant, or an opera- 
+tion.) To describe an operation, we give it a name and specify its inputs 
+(registers or constants). 
+
+We define the controller of a machine as a sequence of instructions 
+together with labels that identify entry points in the sequence. An in- 
+struction is one of the following: 
+
+• The name of a data-path button to push to assign a value to a 
+register. (This corresponds to a box in the controller diagram.) 
+
+• A test instruction, that performs a specified test. 
+
+• A conditional branch (branch instruction) to a location indicated 
+by a controller label, based on the result of the previous test. (The 
+test and branch together correspond to a diamond in the con- 
+troller diagram.) If the test is false, the controller should continue 
+with the next instruction in the sequence. Otherwise, the con- 
+troller should continue with the instruction after the label. 
+
+• An unconditional branch (goto instruction) naming a controller 
+label at which to continue execution. 
+
+The machine starts at the beginning of the controller instruction se- 
+quence and stops when execution reaches the end of the sequence. Ex- 
+cept when a branch changes the flow of control, instructions are exe- 
+cuted in the order in which they are listed. 
+
+Figure 5.3: J, A specification of the gcd machine. 
+
+(data-paths 
+(registers 
+
+
+
+673 
+
+
+
+((name a) 
+
+(buttons ((name a<-b) (source (register b))))) 
+((name b) 
+
+(buttons ((name b<-t) (source (register t))))) 
+((name t) 
+
+(buttons ((name t<-r) (source (operation rem)))))) 
+(operations 
+
+((name rem) (inputs (register a) (register b))) 
+((name =) (inputs (register b) (constant 0))))) 
+(controller 
+test-b 
+(test =) 
+
+(branch (label gcd-done)) 
+(t<-r) 
+(a<-b) 
+(b<-t) 
+
+(goto (label test-b)) 
+gcd-done) 
+
+
+
+label 
+test 
+
+conditional branch 
+button push 
+button push 
+button push 
+unconditional branch 
+label 
+
+
+
+Figure 5.3 shows the gcd machine described in this way. This example 
+only hints at the generality of these descriptions, since the gcd machine 
+is a very simple case: Each register has only one button, and each button 
+and test is used only once in the controller. 
+
+Unfortunately, it is difficult to read such a description. In order to 
+understand the controller instructions we must constantly refer back 
+to the definitions of the button names and the operation names, and to 
+understand what the buttons do we may have to refer to the definitions 
+of the operation names. We will thus transform our notation to combine 
+the information from the data-path and controller descriptions so that 
+we see it all together. 
+
+To obtain this form of description, we will replace the arbitrary but- 
+ton and operation names by the definitions of their behavior. That is, 
+
+
+
+674 
+
+
+
+instead of saying (in the controller) "Push button t<-r" and separately 
+saying (in the data paths) "Button t«-r assigns the value of the rem op- 
+eration to register t" and "The rem operation's inputs are the contents 
+of registers a and b," we will say (in the controller) "Push the button 
+that assigns to register t the value of the rem operation on the con- 
+tents of registers a and b." Similarly, instead of saying (in the controller) 
+"Perform the = test" and separately saying (in the data paths) "The = 
+test operates on the contents of register b and the constant 0," we will 
+say "Perform the = test on the contents of register b and the constant 
+0." We will omit the data-path description, leaving only the controller 
+sequence. Thus, the gcd machine is described as follows: 
+
+(controller 
+test-b 
+
+(test (op =) (reg b) (const 0)) 
+(branch (label gcd-done)) 
+(assign t (op rem) (reg a) (reg b)) 
+(assign a (reg b)) 
+(assign b (reg t)) 
+(goto (label test-b)) 
+gcd-done) 
+
+This form of description is easier to read than the kind illustrated in 
+Figure 5.3, but it also has disadvantages: 
+
+• It is more verbose for large machines, because complete descrip- 
+tions of the data-path elements are repeated whenever the ele- 
+ments are mentioned in the controller instruction sequence. (This 
+is not a problem in the gcd example, because each operation and 
+button is used only once.) Moreover, repeating the data-path de- 
+scriptions obscures the actual data-path structure of the machine; 
+it is not obvious for a large machine how many registers, opera- 
+
+
+
+675 
+
+
+
+tions, and buttons there are and how they are interconnected. 
+
+• Because the controller instructions in a machine definition look 
+like Lisp expressions, it is easy to forget that they are not arbitrary 
+Lisp expressions. They can notate only legal machine operations. 
+For example, operations can operate directly only on constants 
+and the contents of registers, not on the results of other opera- 
+tions. 
+
+In spite of these disadvantages, we will use this register-machine lan- 
+guage throughout this chapter, because we will be more concerned with 
+understanding controllers than with understanding the elements and 
+connections in data paths. We should keep in mind, however, that data- 
+path design is crucial in designing real machines. 
+
+Exercise 5.2: Use the register-machine language to describe 
+the iterative factorial machine of Exercise 5.1. 
+
+Actions 
+
+Let us modify the gcd machine so that we can type in the numbers 
+whose gcd we want and get the answer printed at our terminal. We 
+will not discuss how to make a machine that can read and print, but 
+will assume (as we do when we use read and display in Scheme) that 
+they are available as primitive operations. 1 
+
+Read is like the operations we have been using in that it produces 
+a value that can be stored in a register. But read does not take inputs 
+from any registers; its value depends on something that happens outside 
+the parts of the machine we are designing. We will allow our machine's 
+
+1 This assumption glosses over a great deal of complexity. Usually a large portion of 
+the implementation of a Lisp system is dedicated to making reading and printing work. 
+
+
+
+676 
+
+
+
+
+(controller 
+gcd-loop 
+
+(assign a (op read)) 
+(assign b (op read)) 
+test-b 
+
+(test (op =) 
+(reg b) 
+(const 0)) 
+(branch (label gcd-done)) 
+(assign t 
+
+(op rem) 
+(reg a) 
+(reg b)) 
+(assign a (reg b)) 
+(assign b (reg t)) 
+(goto (label test-b)) 
+gcd-done 
+
+(perform (op print) 
+
+(reg a)) 
+(goto (label gcd-loop))) 
+
+
+
+Figure 5.4: A gcd machine that reads inputs and prints results. 
+
+operations to have such behavior, and thus will draw and notate the use 
+of read just as we do any other operation that computes a value. 
+
+Print, on the other hand, differs from the operations we have been 
+using in a fundamental way: It does not produce an output value to be 
+stored in a register. Though it has an effect, this effect is not on a part of 
+the machine we are designing. We will refer to this kind of operation as 
+an action. We will represent an action in a data-path diagram just as we 
+represent an operation that computes a value— as a trapezoid that con- 
+tains the name of the action. Arrows point to the action box from any 
+inputs (registers or constants). We also associate a button with the ac- 
+tion. Pushing the button makes the action happen. To make a controller 
+
+
+
+677 
+
+
+
+push an action button we use a new kind of instruction called perform. 
+Thus, the action of printing the contents of register a is represented in 
+a controller sequence by the instruction 
+
+(perform (op print) (reg a)) 
+
+Figure 5.4 shows the data paths and controller for the new gcd machine. 
+Instead of having the machine stop after printing the answer, we have 
+made it start over, so that it repeatedly reads a pair of numbers, com- 
+putes their gcd, and prints the result. This structure is like the driver 
+loops we used in the interpreters of Chapter 4. 
+
+5.1.2 Abstraction in Machine Design 
+
+We will often define a machine to include "primitive" operations that 
+are actually very complex. For example, in Section 5.4 and Section 5.5 
+we will treat Scheme's environment manipulations as primitive. Such 
+abstraction is valuable because it allows us to ignore the details of parts 
+of a machine so that we can concentrate on other aspects of the design. 
+The fact that we have swept a lot of complexity under the rug, however, 
+does not mean that a machine design is unrealistic. We can always re- 
+place the complex "primitives" by simpler primitive operations. 
+
+Consider the gcd machine. The machine has an instruction that 
+computes the remainder of the contents of registers a and b and as- 
+signs the result to register t. If we want to construct the gcd machine 
+without using a primitive remainder operation, we must specify how 
+to compute remainders in terms of simpler operations, such as subtrac- 
+tion. Indeed, we can write a Scheme procedure that finds remainders in 
+this way: 
+
+
+
+678 
+
+
+
+(define (remainder n d) 
+(if (< n d) 
+n 
+
+(remainder (- n d) d))) 
+
+We can thus replace the remainder operation in the gcd machine's 
+data paths with a subtraction operation and a comparison test. Figure 
+5.5 shows the data paths and controller for the elaborated machine. The 
+instruction 
+
+(assign t (op rem) (reg a) (reg b)) 
+
+in the gcd controller definition is replaced by a sequence of instructions 
+that contains a loop, as shown in Figure 5.6. 
+
+Figure 5.6: J, Controller instruction sequence for the gcd 
+machine in Figure 5.5. 
+
+(controller test-b 
+
+(test (op =) (reg b) (const 0)) 
+
+(branch (label gcd-done)) 
+
+(assign t (reg a)) 
+rem-loop 
+
+(test (op <) (reg t) (reg b)) 
+
+(branch (label rem-done)) 
+
+(assign t (op -) (reg t) (reg b)) 
+
+(goto (label rem-loop)) 
+rem-done 
+
+(assign a (reg b)) 
+
+(assign b (reg t)) 
+
+(goto (label test-b)) 
+gcd-done) 
+
+Exercise 5.3: Design a machine to compute square roots 
+using Newton's method, as described in Section 1.1.7: 
+
+
+
+679 
+
+
+
+
+680 
+
+
+
+(define (sqrt x) 
+
+(define (good-enough? guess) 
+
+(< (abs (- (square guess) x)) 0.001)) 
+(define (improve guess) 
+
+(average guess (/ x guess))) 
+(define (sqrt-iter guess) 
+(if (good-enough? guess) 
+guess 
+
+(sqrt-iter (improve guess)))) 
+(sqrt-iter 1.0)) 
+
+Begin by assuming that good-enough? and improve opera- 
+tions are available as primitives. Then show how to expand 
+these in terms of arithmetic operations. Describe each ver- 
+sion of the sqrt machine design by drawing a data-path 
+diagram and writing a controller definition in the register- 
+machine language. 
+
+
+
+5.1.3 Subroutines 
+
+When designing a machine to perform a computation, we would often 
+prefer to arrange for components to be shared by different parts of the 
+computation rather than duplicate the components. Consider a machine 
+that includes two gcd computations— one that finds the gcd of the con- 
+tents of registers a and b and one that finds the gcd of the contents of 
+registers c and d. We might start by assuming we have a primitive gcd 
+operation, then expand the two instances of gcd in terms of more prim- 
+itive operations. Figure 5.7 shows just the gcd portions of the resulting 
+machine's data paths, without showing how they connect to the rest of 
+the machine. The figure also shows the corresponding portions of the 
+machine's controller sequence. 
+
+
+
+681 
+
+
+
+a \*-® — | b 
+a<-b 
+
+
+
+b«-t 
+
+
+
+rem 
+
+
+
+t«-r 
+
+
+
+gcd-1 
+
+(test (op =) (reg b) (const 0)) 
+(branch (label af ter-gcd-1 )) 
+(assign t (op rem) (reg a) (reg b)) 
+(assign a (reg b)) 
+(assign b (reg t)) 
+(goto (label gcd-1)) 
+after-gcd-1 
+
+
+
+
+d <- S 
+
+
+
+gcd-2 
+
+(test (op =) (reg d) (const 0)) 
+(branch (label af ter-gcd-2) ) 
+(assign s (op rem) (reg c) (reg d)) 
+(assign c (reg d)) 
+(assign d (reg s)) 
+(goto (label gcd-2)) 
+after-gcd-2 
+
+
+
+Figure 5.7: Portions of the data paths and controller se- 
+quence for a machine with two gcd computations. 
+
+
+
+This machine has two remainder operation boxes and two boxes for 
+testing equality. If the duplicated components are complicated, as is the 
+remainder box, this will not be an economical way to build the machine. 
+We can avoid duplicating the data-path components by using the same 
+components for both gcd computations, provided that doing so will 
+not affect the rest of the larger machine's computation. If the values in 
+registers a and b are not needed by the time the controller gets to gcd- 
+2 (or if these values can be moved to other registers for safekeeping), 
+we can change the machine so that it uses registers a and b, rather than 
+registers c and d, in computing the second gcd as well as the first. If we 
+
+
+
+682 
+
+
+
+do this, we obtain the controller sequence shown in Figure 5.8. 
+
+Figure 5.8: J, Portions of the controller sequence for a ma- 
+chine that uses the same data-path components for two dif- 
+ferent gcd computations. 
+
+gcd-1 
+
+(test (op =) (reg b) (const 0)) 
+(branch (label af ter-gcd-1 )) 
+(assign t (op rem) (reg a) (reg b)) 
+(assign a (reg b)) 
+(assign b (reg t)) 
+(goto (label gcd-1)) 
+af ter-gcd-1 
+
+gcd-2 
+
+(test (op =) (reg b) (const 0)) 
+(branch (label af ter-gcd-2)) 
+(assign t (op rem) (reg a) (reg b)) 
+(assign a (reg b)) 
+(assign b (reg t)) 
+(goto (label gcd-2)) 
+af ter-gcd-2 
+
+We have removed the duplicate data-path components (so that the data 
+paths are again as in Figure 5.1), but the controller now has two gcd 
+sequences that differ only in their entry -point labels. It would be better 
+to replace these two sequences by branches to a single sequence— a gcd 
+subroutine— at the end of which we branch back to the correct place 
+in the main instruction sequence. We can accomplish this as follows: 
+Before branching to gcd, we place a distinguishing value (such as 0 or 
+1) into a special register, continue. At the end of the gcd subroutine 
+
+
+
+683 
+
+
+
+we return either to af ter-gcd-1 or to af ter-gcd-2, depending on the 
+value of the continue register. Figure 5.9 shows the relevant portion of 
+the resulting controller sequence, which includes only a single copy of 
+the gcd instructions. 
+
+Figure 5.9: J, Using a continue register to avoid the dupli- 
+cate controller sequence in Figure 5.8. 
+
+gcd 
+
+(test (op =) (reg b) (const 0)) 
+(branch (label gcd-done)) 
+(assign t (op rem) (reg a) (reg b)) 
+(assign a (reg b)) 
+(assign b (reg t)) 
+(goto (label gcd)) 
+gcd-done 
+
+(test (op =) (reg continue) (const 0)) 
+(branch (label after-gcd-1 )) 
+(goto (label after-gcd-2)) 
+
+;; Before branching to gcd from the first place where 
+;; it is needed, we place 0 in the continue register 
+(assign continue (const 0)) 
+(goto (label gcd)) 
+after-gcd-1 
+
+;; Before the second use of gcd, we place 1 
+;; in the continue register 
+(assign continue (const 1)) 
+(goto (label gcd)) 
+after-gcd-2 
+
+
+
+684 
+
+
+
+This is a reasonable approach for handling small problems, but it would 
+be awkward if there were many instances of gcd computations in the 
+controller sequence. To decide where to continue executing after the 
+gcd subroutine, we would need tests in the data paths and branch in- 
+structions in the controller for all the places that use gcd. A more pow- 
+erful method for implementing subroutines is to have the continue reg- 
+ister hold the label of the entry point in the controller sequence at which 
+execution should continue when the subroutine is finished. Implement- 
+ing this strategy requires a new kind of connection between the data 
+paths and the controller of a register machine: There must be a way 
+to assign to a register a label in the controller sequence in such a way 
+that this value can be fetched from the register and used to continue 
+execution at the designated entry point. 
+
+To reflect this ability, we will extend the assign instruction of the 
+register-machine language to allow a register to be assigned as value a 
+label from the controller sequence (as a special kind of constant). We 
+will also extend the goto instruction to allow execution to continue at 
+the entry point described by the contents of a register rather than only at 
+an entry point described by a constant label. Using these new constructs 
+we can terminate the gcd subroutine with a branch to the location stored 
+in the continue register. This leads to the controller sequence shown in 
+Figure 5.10. 
+
+Figure 5. TO: J, Assigning labels to the continue register 
+simplifies and generalizes the strategy shown in Figure 5.9. 
+
+gcd 
+
+(test (op =) (reg b) (const 0)) 
+(branch (label gcd-done)) 
+(assign t (op rem) (reg a) (reg b)) 
+(assign a (reg b)) 
+
+
+
+685 
+
+
+
+(assign b (reg t)) 
+(goto (label gcd)) 
+gcd-done 
+(goto (reg continue)) 
+
+;; Before calling gcd, we assign to continue 
+;; the label to which gcd should return, 
+(assign continue (label after-gcd-1 )) 
+(goto (label gcd)) 
+after-gcd-1 
+
+;; Here is the second call to gcd, 
+;; with a different continuation, 
+(assign continue (label after-gcd-2)) 
+(goto (label gcd)) 
+after-gcd-2 
+
+A machine with more than one subroutine could use multiple continu- 
+ation registers (e.g., gcd-continue, factorial-continue) or we could 
+have all subroutines share a single continue register. Sharing is more 
+economical, but we must be careful if we have a subroutine (subl) that 
+calls another subroutine (sub2). Unless subl saves the contents of continue 
+in some other register before setting up continue for the call to sub2, 
+subl will not know where to go when it is finished. The mechanism de- 
+veloped in the next section to handle recursion also provides a better 
+solution to this problem of nested subroutine calls. 
+
+5.1.4 Using a Stack to Implement Recursion 
+
+With the ideas illustrated so far, we can implement any iterative pro- 
+cess by specifying a register machine that has a register corresponding 
+to each state variable of the process. The machine repeatedly executes 
+
+
+
+686 
+
+
+
+a controller loop, changing the contents of the registers, until some ter- 
+mination condition is satisfied. At each point in the controller sequence, 
+the state of the machine (representing the state of the iterative process) 
+is completely determined by the contents of the registers (the values of 
+the state variables). 
+
+Implementing recursive processes, however, requires an additional 
+mechanism. Consider the following recursive method for computing 
+factorials, which we first examined in Section 1.2.1: 
+
+(define (factorial n) 
+
+(if (= n 1) 1 (* (factorial (- n 1)) n))) 
+
+As we see from the procedure, computing n\ requires computing (n - 1)!. 
+Our gcd machine, modeled on the procedure 
+
+(define (gcd a b) 
+
+(if (= b 0) a (gcd b (remainder a b)))) 
+
+similarly had to compute another gcd. But there is an important differ- 
+ence between the gcd procedure, which reduces the original computa- 
+tion to a new gcd computation, and factorial, which requires com- 
+puting another factorial as a subproblem. In gcd, the answer to the new 
+gcd computation is the answer to the original problem. To compute the 
+next gcd, we simply place the new arguments in the input registers of 
+the gcd machine and reuse the machine's data paths by executing the 
+same controller sequence. When the machine is finished solving the fi- 
+nal gcd problem, it has completed the entire computation. 
+
+In the case of factorial (or any recursive process) the answer to the 
+new factorial subproblem is not the answer to the original problem. The 
+value obtained for (n - 1)! must be multiplied by n to get the final answer. 
+If we try to imitate the gcd design, and solve the factorial subproblem 
+by decrementing the n register and rerunning the factorial machine, 
+
+
+
+687 
+
+
+
+we will no longer have available the old value of n by which to mul- 
+tiply the result. We thus need a second factorial machine to work on 
+the subproblem. This second factorial computation itself has a factorial 
+subproblem, which requires a third factorial machine, and so on. Since 
+each factorial machine contains another factorial machine within it, the 
+total machine contains an infinite nest of similar machines and hence 
+cannot be constructed from a fixed, finite number of parts. 
+
+Nevertheless, we can implement the factorial process as a regis- 
+ter machine if we can arrange to use the same components for each 
+nested instance of the machine. Specifically, the machine that computes 
+n\ should use the same components to work on the subproblem of com- 
+puting (n - 1)!, on the subproblem for (n - 2)!, and so on. This is plausi- 
+ble because, although the factorial process dictates that an unbounded 
+number of copies of the same machine are needed to perform a com- 
+putation, only one of these copies needs to be active at any given time. 
+When the machine encounters a recursive subproblem, it can suspend 
+work on the main problem, reuse the same physical parts to work on 
+the subproblem, then continue the suspended computation. 
+
+In the subproblem, the contents of the registers will be different 
+than they were in the main problem. (In this case the n register is decre- 
+mented.) In order to be able to continue the suspended computation, 
+the machine must save the contents of any registers that will be needed 
+after the subproblem is solved so that these can be restored to continue 
+the suspended computation. In the case of factorial, we will save the old 
+value of n, to be restored when we are finished computing the factorial 
+of the decremented n register. 2 
+
+2 One might argue that we don't need to save the old n; after we decrement it and 
+solve the subproblem, we could simply increment it to recover the old value. Although 
+this strategy works for factorial, it cannot work in general, since the old value of a 
+register cannot always be computed from the new one. 
+
+
+
+688 
+
+
+
+Since there is no a priori limit on the depth of nested recursive calls, 
+we may need to save an arbitrary number of register values. These val- 
+ues must be restored in the reverse of the order in which they were 
+saved, since in a nest of recursions the last subproblem to be entered is 
+the first to be finished. This dictates the use of a stack, or "last in, first 
+out" data structure, to save register values. We can extend the register- 
+machine language to include a stack by adding two kinds of instruc- 
+tions: Values are placed on the stack using a save instruction and re- 
+stored from the stack using a restore instruction. After a sequence of 
+values has been saved on the stack, a sequence of restores will retrieve 
+these values in reverse order. 3 
+
+With the aid of the stack, we can reuse a single copy of the fac- 
+torial machine's data paths for each factorial subproblem. There is a 
+similar design issue in reusing the controller sequence that operates 
+the data paths. To reexecute the factorial computation, the controller 
+cannot simply loop back to the beginning, as with an iterative process, 
+because after solving the (n - 1)! subproblem the machine must still 
+multiply the result by n. The controller must suspend its computation 
+of n\, solve the (n - 1)! subproblem, then continue its computation of n\. 
+This view of the factorial computation suggests the use of the subrou- 
+tine mechanism described in Section 5.1.3, which has the controller use 
+a continue register to transfer to the part of the sequence that solves 
+a subproblem and then continue where it left off on the main problem. 
+We can thus make a factorial subroutine that returns to the entry point 
+stored in the continue register. Around each subroutine call, we save 
+and restore continue just as we do the n register, since each "level" of 
+the factorial computation will use the same continue register. That is, 
+
+3 In Section 5.3 we will see how to implement a stack in terms of more primitive 
+operations. 
+
+
+
+689 
+
+
+
+the factorial subroutine must put a new value in continue when it calls 
+itself for a subproblem, but it will need the old value in order to return 
+to the place that called it to solve a subproblem. 
+
+Figure 5.11 shows the data paths and controller for a machine that 
+implements the recursive factorial procedure. The machine has a stack 
+and three registers, called n, val, and continue. To simplify the data- 
+path diagram, we have not named the register-assignment buttons, only 
+the stack-operation buttons (sc and sn to save registers, rc and rn to 
+restore registers). To operate the machine, we put in register n the num- 
+ber whose factorial we wish to compute and start the machine. When 
+the machine reaches fact-done, the computation is finished and the 
+answer will be found in the val register. In the controller sequence, n 
+and continue are saved before each recursive call and restored upon 
+return from the call. Returning from a call is accomplished by branch- 
+ing to the location stored in continue. Continue is initialized when the 
+machine starts so that the last return will go to fact-done. The val reg- 
+ister, which holds the result of the factorial computation, is not saved 
+before the recursive call, because the old contents of val is not useful 
+after the subroutine returns. Only the new value, which is the value 
+produced by the subcomputation, is needed. 
+
+Although in principle the factorial computation requires an infinite 
+machine, the machine in Figure 5.11 is actually finite except for the 
+stack, which is potentially unbounded. Any particular physical imple- 
+mentation of a stack, however, will be of finite size, and this will limit 
+the depth of recursive calls that can be handled by the machine. This im- 
+plementation of factorial illustrates the general strategy for realizing re- 
+cursive algorithms as ordinary register machines augmented by stacks. 
+When a recursive subproblem is encountered, we save on the stack the 
+registers whose current values will be required after the subproblem is 
+
+
+
+690 
+
+
+
+
+(controller 
+
+(assign continue (label fact-done)) ;set up final return address 
+fact-loop 
+
+(test (op =) (reg n) (const 1)) 
+(branch (label base-case)) 
+
+;; Set up for the recursive call by saving n and continue. 
+; ; Set up continue so that the computation will continue 
+;; at after-fact when the subroutine returns, 
+(save continue) 
+(save n) 
+
+(assign n (op -) (reg n) (const 1)) 
+(assign continue (label after-fact)) 
+(goto (label fact-loop)) 
+after-fact 
+(restore n) 
+(restore continue) 
+
+(assign val (op *) (reg n) (reg val)) ;val now contains n(n - 1)! 
+(goto (reg continue)) ; return to caller 
+
+base-case 
+
+(assign val (const 1)) ;base case: 1! = 1 
+
+(goto (reg continue)) ; return to caller 
+
+fact-done) 
+
+
+
+Figure 5.T T: A recursive factorial machine. 
+
+
+
+691 
+
+
+
+solved, solve the recursive subproblem, then restore the saved registers 
+and continue execution on the main problem. The continue register 
+must always be saved. Whether there are other registers that need to be 
+saved depends on the particular machine, since not all recursive com- 
+putations need the original values of registers that are modified during 
+solution of the subproblem (see Exercise 5.4). 
+
+A double recursion 
+
+Let us examine a more complex recursive process, the tree-recursive 
+computation of the Fibonacci numbers, which we introduced in Section 
+1.2.2: 
+
+(define (fib n) 
+(if (< n 2) 
+n 
+
+(+ (fib (- n 1)) (fib (- n 2))))) 
+
+Just as with factorial, we can implement the recursive Fibonacci com- 
+putation as a register machine with registers n, val, and continue. The 
+machine is more complex than the one for factorial, because there are 
+two places in the controller sequence where we need to perform recur- 
+sive calls— once to compute Fib(n - 1) and once to compute Fib(n - 2). To 
+set up for each of these calls, we save the registers whose values will be 
+needed later, set the n register to the number whose Fib we need to com- 
+pute recursively (n - 1 or n - 2), and assign to continue the entry point 
+in the main sequence to which to return (afterf ib-n-1 or afterfib- 
+n-2, respectively). We then go to fib-loop. When we return from the 
+recursive call, the answer is in val. Figure 5.12 shows the controller 
+sequence for this machine. 
+
+
+
+692 
+
+
+
+Figure 5.T2: J, Controller for a machine to compute Fi- 
+bonacci numbers. 
+
+
+
+(controller 
+
+(assign continue (label fib-done)) 
+fib-loop 
+
+(test (op <) (reg n) (const 2)) 
+(branch (label immediate-answer)) 
+;; set up to compute Fib(n - 1) 
+(save continue) 
+
+(assign continue (label afterf ib-n-1 )) 
+(save n) ; save old value of n 
+
+(assign n (op -) (reg n) (const 1)) ; clobber n to n-1 
+(goto (label fib-loop)) ; perform recursive call 
+afterf ib-n-1 ; upon return, val contains Fib(n - 1) 
+(restore n) 
+(restore continue) 
+;; set up to compute Fib(n — 2) 
+(assign n (op -) (reg n) (const 2)) 
+(save continue) 
+
+(assign continue (label afterf ib-n-2) ) 
+(save val) ; save Fib(n - 1) 
+
+(goto (label fib-loop)) 
+afterf ib-n-2 ; upon return, val contains Fib(n — 2) 
+(assign n (reg val)) ; n now contains Fib(n - 2) 
+(restore val) ; val now contains Fib(n - 1) 
+
+(restore continue) 
+
+(assign val ; Fib(n - 1) + Fib(n - 2) 
+
+(op +) (reg val) (reg n)) 
+(goto (reg continue)) ; return to caller, answer is in 
+
+val 
+
+immediate-answer 
+
+(assign val (reg n)) ; base case: Fib(n) = n 
+(goto (reg continue)) 
+
+
+
+693 
+
+
+
+fib-done) 
+
+Exercise 5.4: Specify register machines that implement each 
+of the following procedures. For each machine, write a con- 
+troller instruction sequence and draw a diagram showing 
+the data paths. 
+
+a. Recursive exponentiation: 
+
+(define (expt b n) 
+(if (= n 0) 
+1 
+
+(* b (expt b (- n 1))))) 
+
+b. Iterative exponentiation: 
+
+(define (expt b n) 
+
+(define (expt-iter counter product) 
+(if (= counter 0) 
+product 
+
+(expt-iter (- counter 1) 
+
+(* b product)))) 
+
+(expt-iter n 1)) 
+
+Exercise 5.5: Hand-simulate the factorial andFibonacci ma- 
+chines, using some nontrivial input (requiring execution of 
+at least one recursive call). Show the contents of the stack 
+at each significant point in the execution. 
+
+Exercise 5.6: Ben Bitdiddle observes that the Fibonacci ma- 
+chine's controller sequence has an extra save and an extra 
+restore, which can be removed to make a faster machine. 
+Where are these instructions? 
+
+
+
+694 
+
+
+
+5.1.5 Instruction Summary 
+
+A controller instruction in our register-machine language has one of the 
+following forms, where each (inputi) is either (reg (register-name)) 
+or (const (constant-value)) . These instructions were introduced in 
+Section 5.1.1: 
+
+(assign (register-name) (reg (register-name))) 
+(assign (register-name) (const (constant-value))) 
+(assign (register-name) 
+
+(op (operation-name)) 
+
+(inputi) ■ ■ ■ (input„)) 
+(perform (op (operation-name)) (inputi) ... (input n )) 
+(test (op (operation-name)) (inputi) ■■■ (input n )) 
+(branch (label (label-name))) 
+(goto (label (label-name))) 
+
+The use of registers to hold labels was introduced in Section 5.1.3: 
+
+(assign (register-name) (label (label-name))) 
+(goto (reg (register-name))) 
+
+Instructions to use the stack were introduced in Section 5.1.4: 
+
+(save (register-name)) 
+(restore (register-name)) 
+
+The only kind of (constant-value) we have seen so far is a number, but 
+later we will use strings, symbols, and lists. For example, 
+
+(const "abc") is the string "abc", 
+(const abc) is the symbol abc, 
+(const (a b c)) is the list (abc), 
+and (const ()) is the empty list. 
+
+
+
+695 
+
+
+
+5.2 A Register-Machine Simulator 
+
+
+
+In order to gain a good understanding of the design of register machines, 
+we must test the machines we design to see if they perform as expected. 
+One way to test a design is to hand-simulate the operation of the con- 
+troller, as in Exercise 5.5. But this is extremely tedious for all but the 
+simplest machines. In this section we construct a simulator for machines 
+described in the register-machine language. The simulator is a Scheme 
+program with four interface procedures. The first uses a description of a 
+register machine to construct a model of the machine (a data structure 
+whose parts correspond to the parts of the machine to be simulated), 
+and the other three allow us to simulate the machine by manipulating 
+the model: 
+
+(make-machine (register-names) (operations) (controller)) 
+
+constructs and returns a model of the machine with the 
+given registers, operations, and controller. 
+
+(set- register-con tents ! (machine-model) 
+
+(register-name) 
+(value)) 
+
+stores a value in a simulated register in the given machine, 
+(get-register-contents (machine-model) (register-name)) 
+
+returns the contents of a simulated register in the given 
+machine. 
+
+(start (machine-model)) 
+
+simulates the execution of the given machine, starting from 
+the beginning of the controller sequence and stopping when 
+it reaches the end of the sequence. 
+
+
+
+696 
+
+
+
+As an example of how these procedures are used, we can define gcd- 
+machine to be a model of the gcd machine of Section 5.1.1 as follows: 
+
+(define gcd-machine 
+(make-machine 
+'(a b t) 
+
+(list (list 'rem remainder) (list '= =)) 
+' (test-b (test (op =) (reg b) (const 0)) 
+
+(branch (label gcd-done)) 
+
+(assign t (op rem) (reg a) (reg b)) 
+
+(assign a (reg b)) 
+
+(assign b (reg t)) 
+
+(goto (label test-b)) 
+
+gcd-done))) 
+
+The first argument to make-machine is a list of register names. The next 
+argument is a table (a list of two-element lists) that pairs each operation 
+name with a Scheme procedure that implements the operation (that is, 
+produces the same output value given the same input values). The last 
+argument specifies the controller as a list of labels and machine instruc- 
+tions, as in Section 5.1. 
+
+To compute gcds with this machine, we set the input registers, start 
+the machine, and examine the result when the simulation terminates: 
+
+(set-register-contents! gcd-machine 'a 206) 
+done 
+
+(set-register-contents! gcd-machine 'b 40) 
+
+done 
+
+(start gcd-machine) 
+
+done 
+
+(get-register-contents gcd-machine 'a) 
+
+2 
+
+
+
+697 
+
+
+
+This computation will run much more slowly than a gcd procedure writ- 
+ten in Scheme, because we will simulate low-level machine instructions, 
+such as assign, by much more complex operations. 
+
+Exercise 5.7: Use the simulator to test the machines you 
+designed in Exercise 5.4. 
+
+5.2.1 The Machine Model 
+
+The machine model generated by make-machine is represented as a pro- 
+cedure with local state using the message-passing techniques devel- 
+oped in Chapter 3. To build this model, make-machine begins by calling 
+the procedure make-new-machine to construct the parts of the machine 
+model that are common to all register machines. This basic machine 
+model constructed by make-new-machine is essentially a container for 
+some registers and a stack, together with an execution mechanism that 
+processes the controller instructions one by one. 
+
+Make-machine then extends this basic model (by sending it mes- 
+sages) to include the registers, operations, and controller of the partic- 
+ular machine being defined. First it allocates a register in the new ma- 
+chine for each of the supplied register names and installs the designated 
+operations in the machine. Then it uses an assembler (described below 
+in Section 5.2.2) to transform the controller list into instructions for the 
+new machine and installs these as the machine's instruction sequence. 
+Make-machine returns as its value the modified machine model. 
+
+(define (make-machine register-names ops controller-text) 
+(let ((machine (make-new-machine))) 
+(for-each 
+(lambda (register-name) 
+
+((machine ' allocate-register) register-name)) 
+register-names) 
+
+
+
+698 
+
+
+
+((machine ' install-operations) ops) 
+
+( (machine ' ins tall- instruct ion-sequence) 
+
+(assemble controller-text machine)) 
+machine)) 
+
+
+
+Registers 
+
+We will represent a register as a procedure with local state, as in Chapter 
+3. The procedure make- register creates a register that holds a value 
+that can be accessed or changed: 
+
+(define (make-register name) 
+(let ((contents '*unassigned*)) 
+(define (dispatch message) 
+
+(cond ((eq? message 'get) contents) 
+((eq? message 'set) 
+
+(lambda (value) (set! contents value))) 
+(else 
+
+(error "Unknown request: REGISTER" message)))) 
+dispatch)) 
+
+The following procedures are used to access registers: 
+
+(define (get-contents register) (register 'get)) 
+(define (set-contents! register value) 
+((register 'set) value)) 
+
+
+
+The stack 
+
+We can also represent a stack as a procedure with local state. The pro- 
+cedure make-stack creates a stack whose local state consists of a list of 
+the items on the stack. A stack accepts requests to push an item onto the 
+stack, to pop the top item off the stack and return it, and to initialize 
+the stack to empty. 
+
+
+
+699 
+
+
+
+(define (make-stack) 
+(let C(s '())) 
+
+(define (push x) (set! s (cons x s))) 
+(define (pop) 
+(if (null? s) 
+
+(error "Empty stack: POP") 
+(let ((top (car s))) 
+(set! s (cdr s)) 
+top))) 
+(define (initialize) 
+(set! s '()) 
+'done) 
+
+(define (dispatch message) 
+
+(cond ((eq? message 'push) push) 
+((eq? message 'pop) (pop)) 
+((eq? message 'initialize) (initialize)) 
+(else (error "Unknown request: STACK" message)))) 
+
+dispatch) ) 
+
+The following procedures are used to access stacks: 
+
+(define (pop stack) (stack 'pop)) 
+
+(define (push stack value) ((stack 'push) value)) 
+
+The basic machine 
+
+The make-new-machine procedure, shown in Figure 5.13, constructs an 
+object whose local state consists of a stack, an initially empty instruc- 
+tion sequence, a list of operations that initially contains an operation to 
+initialize the stack, and a register table that initially contains two reg- 
+isters, named flag and pc (for "program counter"). The internal proce- 
+dure allocate-register adds new entries to the register table, and the 
+internal procedure lookup- register looks up registers in the table. 
+
+
+
+700 
+
+
+
+The flag register is used to control branching in the simulated ma- 
+chine. Test instructions set the contents of flag to the result of the test 
+(true or false). Branch instructions decide whether or not to branch by 
+examining the contents of flag. 
+
+The pc register determines the sequencing of instructions as the ma- 
+chine runs. This sequencing is implemented by the internal procedure 
+execute. In the simulation model, each machine instruction is a data 
+structure that includes a procedure of no arguments, called the instruc- 
+tion execution procedure, such that calling this procedure simulates ex- 
+ecuting the instruction. As the simulation runs, pc points to the place 
+in the instruction sequence beginning with the next instruction to be 
+executed. Execute gets that instruction, executes it by calling the in- 
+struction execution procedure, and repeats this cycle until there are no 
+more instructions to execute (i.e., until pc points to the end of the in- 
+struction sequence). 
+
+Figure 5.T3: J, The make-new-machine procedure, which 
+implements the basic machine model. 
+
+(define (make-new-machine) 
+
+(let ((pc (make-register 'pc)) 
+
+(flag (make-register 'flag)) 
+(stack (make-stack)) 
+(the-instruction-sequence '())) 
+(let ((the-ops 
+
+(list (list ' initialize-stack 
+
+(lambda () (stack 'initialize))))) 
+(register-table 
+(list (list 'pc pc) (list 'flag flag)))) 
+(define (allocate-register name) 
+(if (assoc name register-table) 
+
+(error "Multiply defined register: " name) 
+
+
+
+701 
+
+
+
+(set! register-table 
+
+(cons (list name (make-register name)) 
+register-table))) 
+' register-allocated) 
+(define (lookup-register name) 
+
+(let ((val (assoc name register-table))) 
+(if val 
+
+(cadr val) 
+
+(error "Unknown register:" name)))) 
+(define (execute) 
+
+(let ((insts (get-contents pc))) 
+(if (null? insts) 
+' done 
+(begin 
+
+( (instruction-execution-proc (car insts))) 
+(execute))))) 
+(define (dispatch message) 
+(cond ((eq? message 'start) 
+
+(set-contents! pc the-instruction-sequence) 
+(execute) ) 
+
+((eq? message ' install-instruction-sequence) 
+
+(lambda (seq) 
+
+(set! the-instruction-sequence seq))) 
+((eq? message ' allocate-register) 
+
+allocate- register) 
+((eq? message 'get-register) 
+
+lookup-register) 
+((eq? message ' install-operations) 
+
+(lambda (ops) 
+
+(set! the-ops (append the-ops ops)))) 
+((eq? message 'stack) stack) 
+((eq? message 'operations) the-ops) 
+(else (error "Unknown request: MACHINE" 
+
+
+
+702 
+
+
+
+dispatch) ) ) 
+
+
+
+message)))) 
+
+
+
+As part of its operation, each instruction execution procedure modifies 
+pc to indicate the next instruction to be executed. Branch and goto in- 
+structions change pc to point to the new destination. All other instruc- 
+tions simply advance pc, making it point to the next instruction in the 
+sequence. Observe that each call to execute calls execute again, but 
+this does not produce an infinite loop because running the instruction 
+execution procedure changes the contents of pc. 
+
+Make-new-machine returns a dispatch procedure that implements 
+message-passing access to the internal state. Notice that starting the 
+machine is accomplished by setting pc to the beginning of the instruc- 
+tion sequence and calling execute. 
+
+For convenience, we provide an alternate procedural interface to a 
+machine's start operation, as well as procedures to set and examine 
+register contents, as specified at the beginning of Section 5.2: 
+
+(define (start machine) (machine 'start)) 
+
+(define (get-register-contents machine register-name) 
+
+(get-contents (get-register machine register-name))) 
+(define (set-register-contents! machine register-name value) 
+
+(set-contents! (get-register machine register-name) 
+value) 
+
+'done) 
+
+These procedures (and many procedures in Section 5.2.2 and Section 
+5.2.3) use the following to look up the register with a given name in a 
+given machine: 
+
+(define (get-register machine reg-name) 
+((machine 'get-register) reg-name)) 
+
+
+
+703 
+
+
+
+5.2.2 The Assembler 
+
+The assembler transforms the sequence of controller expressions for a 
+machine into a corresponding list of machine instructions, each with its 
+execution procedure. Overall, the assembler is much like the evaluators 
+we studied in Chapter 4— there is an input language (in this case, the 
+register-machine language) and we must perform an appropriate action 
+for each type of expression in the language. 
+
+The technique of producing an execution procedure for each in- 
+struction is just what we used in Section 4.1.7 to speed up the evaluator 
+by separating analysis from runtime execution. As we saw in Chapter 4, 
+much useful analysis of Scheme expressions could be performed with- 
+out knowing the actual values of variables. Here, analogously, much 
+useful analysis of register-machine-language expressions can be per- 
+formed without knowing the actual contents of machine registers. For 
+example, we can replace references to registers by pointers to the reg- 
+ister objects, and we can replace references to labels by pointers to the 
+place in the instruction sequence that the label designates. 
+
+Before it can generate the instruction execution procedures, the as- 
+sembler must know what all the labels refer to, so it begins by scanning 
+the controller text to separate the labels from the instructions. As it 
+scans the text, it constructs both a list of instructions and a table that 
+associates each label with a pointer into that list. Then the assembler 
+augments the instruction list by inserting the execution procedure for 
+each instruction. 
+
+The assemble procedure is the main entry to the assembler. It takes 
+the controller text and the machine model as arguments and returns the 
+instruction sequence to be stored in the model. Assemble calls extract- 
+1 a be Is to build the initial instruction list and label table from the sup- 
+plied controller text. The second argument to extract-labels is a pro- 
+
+
+
+704 
+
+
+
+cedure to be called to process these results: This procedure uses update- 
+i nsts ! to generate the instruction execution procedures and insert them 
+into the instruction list, and returns the modified list. 
+
+(define (assemble controller-text machine) 
+(extract-labels 
+controller-text 
+(lambda (insts labels) 
+
+(update-insts ! insts labels machine) 
+insts))) 
+
+Extract-labels takes as arguments a list text (the sequence of con- 
+troller instruction expressions) and a receive procedure. Receive will 
+be called with two values: (1) a list insts of instruction data structures, 
+each containing an instruction from text; and (2) a table called labels, 
+which associates each label from text with the position in the list insts 
+that the label designates. 
+
+(define (extract-labels text receive) 
+(if (null? text) 
+
+(receive '() '()) 
+(extract-labels 
+(cdr text) 
+
+(lambda (insts labels) 
+
+(let ((next-inst (car text))) 
+(if (symbol? next-inst) 
+(receive insts 
+
+(cons (make-label-entry next-inst 
+
+insts) 
+
+labels)) 
+
+(receive (cons (make-instruction next-inst) 
+insts) 
+labels))))))) 
+
+
+
+705 
+
+
+
+Extract-labels works by sequentially scanning the elements of the 
+text and accumulating the insts and the labels. If an element is a 
+symbol (and thus a label) an appropriate entry is added to the labels 
+table. Otherwise the element is accumulated onto the insts list. 4 
+
+Update-insts! modifies the instruction list, which initially con- 
+
+
+
+4 Using the receive procedure here is a way to get extract-labels to effectively 
+return two values— labels and insts— without explicitly making a compound data 
+structure to hold them. An alternative implementation, which returns an explicit pair 
+of values, is 
+
+(define (extract-labels text) 
+(if (null? text) 
+(cons '() '()) 
+
+(let ((result (extract-labels (cdr text)))) 
+
+(let ((insts (car result)) (labels (cdr result))) 
+(let ((next-inst (car text))) 
+(if (symbol? next-inst) 
+(cons insts 
+
+(cons (make-label-entry next-inst insts) 
+labels)) 
+
+(cons (cons (make-instruction next-inst) insts) 
+labels))))))) 
+
+which would be called by assemble as follows: 
+
+(define (assemble controller-text machine) 
+
+(let ((result (extract-labels controller-text))) 
+(let ((insts (car result)) (labels (cdr result))) 
+(update-insts! insts labels machine) 
+insts))) 
+
+You can consider our use of receive as demonstrating an elegant way to return mul- 
+tiple values, or simply an excuse to show off a programming trick. An argument like 
+receive that is the next procedure to be invoked is called a "continuation." Recall that 
+we also used continuations to implement the backtracking control structure in the amb 
+evaluator in Section 4.3.3. 
+
+
+
+706 
+
+
+
+tains only the text of the instructions, to include the corresponding ex- 
+ecution procedures: 
+
+(define (update-insts ! insts labels machine) 
+(let ((pc (get-register machine 'pc)) 
+
+(flag (get-register machine 'flag)) 
+(stack (machine 'stack)) 
+(ops (machine 'operations))) 
+(for-each 
+(lambda (inst) 
+
+(set-instruction-execution-proc! 
+inst 
+
+(make-execution-procedure 
+(instruction-text inst) 
+labels machine pc flag stack ops))) 
+insts))) 
+
+The machine instruction data structure simply pairs the instruction text 
+with the corresponding execution procedure. The execution procedure 
+is not yet available when extract-labels constructs the instruction, 
+and is inserted later by update-insts! . 
+
+(define (make-instruction text) (cons text '())) 
+(define (instruction-text inst) (car inst)) 
+(define (instruction-execution-proc inst) (cdr inst)) 
+(define (set-instruction-execution-proc! inst proc) 
+(set-cdr! inst proc)) 
+
+The instruction text is not used by our simulator, but it is handy to keep 
+around for debugging (see Exercise 5.16). 
+Elements of the label table are pairs: 
+
+(define (make-label-entry label-name insts) 
+(cons label-name insts)) 
+
+Entries will be looked up in the table with 
+
+
+
+707 
+
+
+
+(define (lookup-label labels label-name) 
+(let ((val (assoc label-name labels))) 
+(if val 
+
+(cdr val) 
+
+(error "Undefined label: ASSEMBLE" 
+label-name)))) 
+
+
+
+Exercise 5.8: The following register-machine code is am- 
+biguous, because the label here is defined more than once: 
+
+start 
+
+(goto (label here)) 
+here 
+
+(assign a (const 3)) 
+(goto (label there)) 
+here 
+
+(assign a (const 4)) 
+(goto (label there)) 
+there 
+
+With the simulator as written, what will the contents of 
+register a be when control reaches there? Modify the extract- 
+labels procedure so that the assembler will signal an er- 
+ror if the same label name is used to indicate two different 
+locations. 
+
+
+
+5.2.3 Generating Execution Procedures 
+for Instructions 
+
+The assembler calls make-execution-procedure to generate the exe- 
+cution procedure for an instruction. Like the analyze procedure in the 
+evaluator of Section 4.1.7, this dispatches on the type of instruction to 
+generate the appropriate execution procedure. 
+
+
+
+708 
+
+
+
+(define (make-execution-procedure 
+
+inst labels machine pc flag stack ops) 
+(cond ((eq? (car inst) 'assign) 
+
+(make-assign inst machine labels ops pc)) 
+((eq? (car inst) 'test) 
+
+(make-test inst machine labels ops flag pc)) 
+((eq? (car inst) 'branch) 
+
+(make-branch inst machine labels flag pc)) 
+((eq? (car inst) 'goto) 
+
+(make-goto inst machine labels pc)) 
+((eq? (car inst) 'save) 
+
+(make-save inst machine stack pc)) 
+((eq? (car inst) 'restore) 
+
+(make-restore inst machine stack pc)) 
+((eq? (car inst) 'perform) 
+
+(make-perform inst machine labels ops pc)) 
+(else 
+
+(error "Unknown instruction type: ASSEMBLE" 
+inst)))) 
+
+For each type of instruction in the register-machine language, there is 
+a generator that builds an appropriate execution procedure. The details 
+of these procedures determine both the syntax and meaning of the in- 
+dividual instructions in the register-machine language. We use data ab- 
+straction to isolate the detailed syntax of register-machine expressions 
+from the general execution mechanism, as we did for evaluators in Sec- 
+tion 4.1.2, by using syntax procedures to extract and classify the parts 
+of an instruction. 
+
+Assign instructions 
+
+The make-assign procedure handles assign instructions: 
+
+
+
+709 
+
+
+
+(define (make-assign inst machine labels operations pc) 
+(let ((target 
+
+(get-register machine (assign-reg-name inst))) 
+(value-exp (assign-value-exp inst))) 
+(let ((value-proc 
+
+(if (operation-exp? value-exp) 
+(make-ope ration-exp 
+value-exp machine labels operations) 
+(make-primitive-exp 
+(car value-exp) machine labels)))) 
+(lambda () ; execution procedure for assign 
+(set-contents! target (value-proc)) 
+(advance-pc pc))))) 
+
+Make-assign extracts the target register name (the second element of 
+the instruction) and the value expression (the rest of the list that forms 
+the instruction) from the assign instruction using the selectors 
+
+(define (assign-reg-name assign-instruction) 
+
+(cadr assign-instruction)) 
+(define (assign-value-exp assign-instruction) 
+
+(cddr assign-instruction)) 
+
+The register name is looked up with get-register to produce the target 
+register object. The value expression is passed to make-operation-exp 
+if the value is the result of an operation, and to make-primitive-exp 
+otherwise. These procedures (shown below) parse the value expression 
+and produce an execution procedure for the value. This is a procedure 
+of no arguments, called value-proc, which will be evaluated during 
+the simulation to produce the actual value to be assigned to the regis- 
+ter. Notice that the work of looking up the register name and parsing 
+the value expression is performed just once, at assembly time, not ev- 
+ery time the instruction is simulated. This saving of work is the reason 
+
+
+
+710 
+
+
+
+we use execution procedures, and corresponds directly to the saving in 
+work we obtained by separating program analysis from execution in the 
+evaluator of Section 4.1.7. 
+
+The result returned by make-assign is the execution procedure for 
+the assign instruction. When this procedure is called (by the machine 
+model's execute procedure), it sets the contents of the target register to 
+the result obtained by executing value-proc. Then it advances the pc 
+to the next instruction by running the procedure 
+
+(define (advance-pc pc) 
+
+(set-contents! pc (cdr (get-contents pc)))) 
+
+Advance-pc is the normal termination for all instructions except branch 
+and goto. 
+
+Test, branch, and goto instructions 
+
+Make-test handles test instructions in a similar way. It extracts the 
+expression that specifies the condition to be tested and generates an 
+execution procedure for it. At simulation time, the procedure for the 
+condition is called, the result is assigned to the flag register, and the pc 
+is advanced: 
+
+(define (make-test inst machine labels operations flag pc) 
+(let ((condition (test-condition inst))) 
+(if (operation-exp? condition) 
+(let ( (condition-proc 
+
+(make-ope ration-exp 
+
+condition machine labels operations))) 
+(lambda () 
+
+(set-contents! flag (condition-proc)) 
+(advance-pc pc))) 
+
+
+
+711 
+
+
+
+(error "Bad TEST instruction: ASSEMBLE" inst)))) 
+(define (test-condition test-instruction) 
+(cdr test-instruction)) 
+
+The execution procedure for a branch instruction checks the contents 
+of the flag register and either sets the contents of the pc to the branch 
+destination (if the branch is taken) or else just advances the pc (if the 
+branch is not taken). Notice that the indicated destination in a branch 
+instruction must be a label, and the make-branch procedure enforces 
+this. Notice also that the label is looked up at assembly time, not each 
+time the branch instruction is simulated. 
+
+(define (make-branch inst machine labels flag pc) 
+(let ((dest (branch-dest inst))) 
+(if (label-exp? dest) 
+(let ((insts 
+
+(lookup-label 
+labels 
+
+(label-exp-label dest)))) 
+(lambda () 
+
+(if (get-contents flag) 
+
+(set-contents! pc insts) 
+(advance-pc pc)))) 
+(error "Bad BRANCH instruction: ASSEMBLE" inst)))) 
+(define (branch-dest branch-instruction) 
+(cadr branch-instruction)) 
+
+A goto instruction is similar to a branch, except that the destination may 
+be specified either as a label or as a register, and there is no condition 
+to check— the pc is always set to the new destination. 
+
+(define (make-goto inst machine labels pc) 
+(let ((dest (goto-dest inst))) 
+(cond ((label-exp? dest) 
+
+
+
+712 
+
+
+
+(let ((insts (lookup-label 
+labels 
+
+(label-exp-label dest)))) 
+(lambda () (set-contents! pc insts)))) 
+( (register-exp? dest) 
+(let ((reg (get-register 
+machine 
+
+(register-exp-reg dest)))) 
+
+(lambda () 
+
+(set-contents! pc (get-contents reg))))) 
+(else (error "Bad GOTO instruction: ASSEMBLE" inst))))) 
+(define (goto-dest goto-instruction) 
+(cadr goto-instruction)) 
+
+Other instructions 
+
+The stack instructions save and restore simply use the stack with the 
+designated register and advance the pc: 
+
+(define (make-save inst machine stack pc) 
+(let ((reg (get-register machine 
+
+(stack-inst-reg-name inst)))) 
+
+(lambda () 
+
+(push stack (get-contents reg)) 
+(advance-pc pc)))) 
+(define (make-restore inst machine stack pc) 
+(let ((reg (get-register machine 
+
+(stack-inst-reg-name inst)))) 
+
+(lambda () 
+
+(set-contents! reg (pop stack)) 
+(advance-pc pc)))) 
+(define (stack-inst-reg-name stack-instruction) 
+(cadr stack-instruction)) 
+
+
+
+713 
+
+
+
+The final instruction type, handled by make-perform, generates an ex- 
+ecution procedure for the action to be performed. At simulation time, 
+the action procedure is executed and the pc advanced. 
+
+(define (make-perform inst machine labels operations pc) 
+(let ((action (perf orm-action inst))) 
+(if (operation-exp? action) 
+(let ( (action-proc 
+
+(make-ope ration-exp 
+action machine labels operations))) 
+(lambda () (action-proc) (advance-pc pc))) 
+(error "Bad PERFORM instruction: ASSEMBLE" inst)))) 
+(define (perf orm-action inst) (cdr inst)) 
+
+
+
+Execution procedures for subexpressions 
+
+The value of a reg, label, or const expression may be needed for as- 
+signment to a register (make-assign) or for input to an operation (make- 
+operation-exp, below). The following procedure generates execution 
+procedures to produce values for these expressions during the simula- 
+tion: 
+
+(define (make-primitive-exp exp machine labels) 
+(cond ( (constant-exp? exp) 
+
+(let ((c (constant-exp-value exp))) 
+(lambda () c))) 
+((label-exp? exp) 
+(let ((insts (lookup-label 
+labels 
+
+(label-exp-label exp)))) 
+(lambda () insts))) 
+( (register-exp? exp) 
+(let ((r (get-register machine (register-exp-reg exp)))) 
+
+
+
+714 
+
+
+
+(lambda () (get-contents r)))) 
+(else (error "Unknown expression type: ASSEMBLE" exp)))) 
+
+The syntax of reg, label, and const expressions is determined by 
+
+(define (register-exp? exp) (tagged-list? exp 'reg)) 
+(define (register-exp-reg exp) (cadr exp)) 
+(define (constant-exp? exp) (tagged-list? exp 'const)) 
+(define (constant-exp-value exp) (cadr exp)) 
+(define (label-exp? exp) (tagged-list? exp 'label)) 
+(define (label-exp-label exp) (cadr exp)) 
+
+Assign, perform, and test instructions may include the application of 
+a machine operation (specified by an op expression) to some operands 
+(specified by reg and const expressions). The following procedure pro- 
+duces an execution procedure for an "operation expression"— a list con- 
+taining the operation and operand expressions from the instruction: 
+
+(define (make-operation-exp exp machine labels operations) 
+(let ((op (lookup-prim (operation-exp-op exp) 
+
+operations)) 
+
+(aprocs 
+(map (lambda (e) 
+
+(make-primitive-exp e machine labels)) 
+(operation-exp-operands exp)))) 
+
+(lambda () 
+
+(apply op (map (lambda (p) (p)) aprocs))))) 
+The syntax of operation expressions is determined by 
+
+(define (operation-exp? exp) 
+
+(and (pair? exp) (tagged-list? (car exp) 'op))) 
+(define (operation-exp-op operation-exp) 
+
+(cadr (car operation-exp))) 
+(define (operation-exp-operands operation-exp) 
+
+(cdr operation-exp)) 
+
+
+
+715 
+
+
+
+Observe that the treatment of operation expressions is very much like 
+the treatment of procedure applications by the analyze-application 
+procedure in the evaluator of Section 4.1.7 in that we generate an ex- 
+ecution procedure for each operand. At simulation time, we call the 
+operand procedures and apply the Scheme procedure that simulates the 
+operation to the resulting values. The simulation procedure is found by 
+looking up the operation name in the operation table for the machine: 
+
+(define (lookup-prim symbol operations) 
+(let ((val (assoc symbol operations))) 
+(if val 
+
+(cadr val) 
+
+(error "Unknown operation: ASSEMBLE" 
+symbol)))) 
+
+Exercise 5.9: The treatment of machine operations above 
+permits them to operate on labels as well as on constants 
+and the contents of registers. Modify the expression-processing 
+procedures to enforce the condition that operations can be 
+used only with registers and constants. 
+
+Exercise 5. TO: Design a new syntax for register-machine 
+instructions and modify the simulator to use your new syn- 
+tax. Can you implement your new syntax without changing 
+any part of the simulator except the syntax procedures in 
+this section? 
+
+Exercise 5.TT: When we introduced save and restore in 
+Section 5.1.4, we didn't specify what would happen if you 
+tried to restore a register that was not the last one saved, as 
+in the sequence 
+
+
+
+716 
+
+
+
+(save y) (save x) (restore y) 
+
+There are several reasonable possibilities for the meaning 
+of restore: 
+
+a. (restore y) puts into y the last value saved on the 
+stack, regardless of what register that value came from. 
+This is the way our simulator behaves. Show how to 
+take advantage of this behavior to eliminate one in- 
+struction from the Fibonacci machine of Section 5.1.4 
+(Figure 5.12). 
+
+b. (restore y) puts into y the last value saved on the 
+stack, but only if that value was saved from y; other- 
+wise, it signals an error. Modify the simulator to be- 
+have this way. You will have to change save to put 
+the register name on the stack along with the value. 
+
+c. (restore y) puts into y the last value saved from 
+y regardless of what other registers were saved after 
+y and not restored. Modify the simulator to behave 
+this way. You will have to associate a separate stack 
+with each register. You should make the initialize- 
+stack operation initialize all the register stacks. 
+
+Exercise 5.T2: The simulator can be used to help determine 
+the data paths required for implementing a machine with a 
+given controller. Extend the assembler to store the follow- 
+ing information in the machine model: 
+
+• a list of all instructions, with duplicates removed, sorted 
+by instruction type (assign, goto, and so on); 
+
+
+
+717 
+
+
+
+• a list (without duplicates) of the registers used to hold 
+entry points (these are the registers referenced by goto 
+instructions); 
+
+• a list (without duplicates) of the registers that are saved 
+or restored; 
+
+• for each register, a list (without duplicates) of the sources 
+from which it is assigned (for example, the sources for 
+register val in the factorial machine of Figure 5.11 are 
+(const 1) and ((op *) (reg n) (reg val))). 
+
+Extend the message-passing interface to the machine to pro- 
+vide access to this new information. To test your analyzer, 
+define the Fibonacci machine from Figure 5.12 and examine 
+the lists you constructed. 
+
+Exercise 5.T3: Modify the simulator so that it uses the con- 
+troller sequence to determine what registers the machine 
+has rather than requiring a list of registers as an argument 
+to make-machine. Instead of pre-allocating the registers in 
+make-machine, you can allocate them one at a time when 
+they are first seen during assembly of the instructions. 
+
+5.2.4 Monitoring Machine Performance 
+
+Simulation is useful not only for verifying the correctness of a proposed 
+machine design but also for measuring the machine's performance. For 
+example, we can install in our simulation program a "meter" that mea- 
+sures the number of stack operations used in a computation. To do this, 
+we modify our simulated stack to keep track of the number of times 
+registers are saved on the stack and the maximum depth reached by the 
+
+
+
+718 
+
+
+
+stack, and add a message to the stack's interface that prints the statis- 
+tics, as shown below. We also add an operation to the basic machine 
+model to print the stack statistics, by initializing the-ops in make-new- 
+machine to 
+
+(list (list ' initialize-stack 
+
+(lambda () (stack 'initialize))) 
+(list 'print-stack-statistics 
+
+(lambda () (stack 'print-statistics)))) 
+
+Here is the new version of make-stack: 
+
+(define (make-stack) 
+(let ((s '()) 
+
+(number-pushes 0) 
+(max-depth 0) 
+(current-depth 0)) 
+(define (push x) 
+(set! s (cons x s)) 
+
+(set! number-pushes (+ 1 number-pushes)) 
+(set! current-depth (+ 1 current-depth)) 
+(set! max-depth (max current-depth max-depth))) 
+(define (pop) 
+(if (null? s) 
+
+(error "Empty stack: POP") 
+(let ((top (car s))) 
+(set! s (cdr s)) 
+
+(set! current-depth (- current-depth 1)) 
+
+top))) 
+(define (initialize) 
+(set! s '()) 
+(set! number-pushes 0) 
+(set! max-depth 0) 
+(set! current-depth 0) 
+'done) 
+
+
+
+719 
+
+
+
+(define (print-statistics) 
+(newline) 
+
+(display (list 'total-pushes '= number-pushes 
+'maximum-depth '= max-depth))) 
+(define (dispatch message) 
+
+(cond ((eq? message 'push) push) 
+((eq? message 'pop) (pop)) 
+((eq? message 'initialize) (initialize)) 
+((eq? message 'print-statistics) 
+
+(print-statistics)) 
+(else (error "Unknown request: STACK" message)))) 
+dispatch)) 
+
+Exercise 5.15 through Exercise 5.19 describe other useful monitoring 
+and debugging features that can be added to the register-machine sim- 
+ulator. 
+
+Exercise 5.T4: Measure the number of pushes and the max- 
+imum stack depth required to compute n\ for various small 
+values of n using the factorial machine shown in Figure 
+5.11. From your data determine formulas in terms of n for 
+the total number of push operations and the maximum stack 
+depth used in computing n\ for any n > 1. Note that each 
+of these is a linear function of n and is thus determined by 
+two constants. In order to get the statistics printed, you will 
+have to augment the factorial machine with instructions to 
+initialize the stack and print the statistics. You may want to 
+also modify the machine so that it repeatedly reads a value 
+for n, computes the factorial, and prints the result (as we 
+did for the gcd machine in Figure 5.4), so that you will not 
+have to repeatedly invoke get-register-contents, set- 
+register-contents!, and start. 
+
+
+
+720 
+
+
+
+Exercise 5.T5: Add instruction counting to the register ma- 
+chine simulation. That is, have the machine model keep 
+track of the number of instructions executed. Extend the 
+machine model's interface to accept a new message that 
+prints the value of the instruction count and resets the count 
+to zero. 
+
+Exercise 5.T6: Augment the simulator to provide for in- 
+struction tracing. That is, before each instruction is executed, 
+the simulator should print the text of the instruction. Make 
+the machine model accept trace-on and trace-off mes- 
+sages to turn tracing on and off. 
+
+Exercise 5.T7: Extend the instruction tracing of Exercise 
+5.16 so that before printing an instruction, the simulator 
+prints any labels that immediately precede that instruction 
+in the controller sequence. Be careful to do this in a way 
+that does not interfere with instruction counting (Exercise 
+5.15). You will have to make the simulator retain the neces- 
+sary label information. 
+
+Exercise 5.T8: Modify the make- register procedure of Sec- 
+tion 5.2.1 so that registers can be traced. Registers should 
+accept messages that turn tracing on and off. When a reg- 
+ister is traced, assigning a value to the register should print 
+the name of the register, the old contents of the register, 
+and the new contents being assigned. Extend the interface 
+to the machine model to permit you to turn tracing on and 
+off for designated machine registers. 
+
+
+
+721 
+
+
+
+Exercise 5.T9: Alyssa P. Hacker wants a breakpoint feature 
+in the simulator to help her debug her machine designs. You 
+have been hired to install this feature for her. She wants to 
+be able to specify a place in the controller sequence where 
+the simulator will stop and allow her to examine the state 
+of the machine. You are to implement a procedure 
+
+(set-breakpoint (machine) (label) (n)) 
+
+that sets a breakpoint just before the n th instruction after 
+the given label. For example, 
+
+(set-breakpoint gcd-machine 'test-b 4) 
+
+installs a breakpoint in gcd-machine just before the assign- 
+ment to register a. When the simulator reaches the break- 
+point it should print the label and the offset of the break- 
+point and stop executing instructions. Alyssa can then use 
+get- register-contents and set- register-contents ! to 
+manipulate the state of the simulated machine. She should 
+then be able to continue execution by saying 
+
+(proceed-machine (machine)) 
+
+She should also be able to remove a specific breakpoint by 
+means of 
+
+(cancel-breakpoint (machine) (label) (n)) 
+
+or to remove all breakpoints by means of 
+(cancel -a 11 -breakpoints (machine)) 
+
+
+
+722 
+
+
+
+5.3 Storage Allocation and Garbage Collection 
+
+
+
+In Section 5.4, we will show how to implement a Scheme evaluator as 
+a register machine. In order to simplify the discussion, we will assume 
+that our register machines can be equipped with a list-structured mem- 
+ory, in which the basic operations for manipulating list-structured data 
+are primitive. Postulating the existence of such a memory is a useful 
+abstraction when one is focusing on the mechanisms of control in a 
+Scheme interpreter, but this does not reflect a realistic view of the ac- 
+tual primitive data operations of contemporary computers. To obtain a 
+more complete picture of how a Lisp system operates, we must inves- 
+tigate how list structure can be represented in a way that is compatible 
+with conventional computer memories. 
+
+There are two considerations in implementing list structure. The 
+first is purely an issue of representation: how to represent the "box-and- 
+pointer" structure of Lisp pairs, using only the storage and addressing 
+capabilities of typical computer memories. The second issue concerns 
+the management of memory as a computation proceeds. The operation 
+of a Lisp system depends crucially on the ability to continually create 
+new data objects. These include objects that are explicitly created by the 
+Lisp procedures being interpreted as well as structures created by the in- 
+terpreter itself, such as environments and argument lists. Although the 
+constant creation of new data objects would pose no problem on a com- 
+puter with an infinite amount of rapidly addressable memory, computer 
+memories are available only in finite sizes (more's the pity). Lisp sys- 
+tems thus provide an automatic storage allocation facility to support the 
+illusion of an infinite memory. When a data object is no longer needed, 
+the memory allocated to it is automatically recycled and used to con- 
+struct new data objects. There are various techniques for providing such 
+
+
+
+723 
+
+
+
+automatic storage allocation. The method we shall discuss in this section 
+is called garbage collection. 
+
+5.3.1 Memory as Vectors 
+
+A conventional computer memory can be thought of as an array of cub- 
+byholes, each of which can contain a piece of information. Each cub- 
+byhole has a unique name, called its address or location. Typical mem- 
+ory systems provide two primitive operations: one that fetches the data 
+stored in a specified location and one that assigns new data to a speci- 
+fied location. Memory addresses can be incremented to support sequen- 
+tial access to some set of the cubbyholes. More generally, many impor- 
+tant data operations require that memory addresses be treated as data, 
+which can be stored in memory locations and manipulated in machine 
+registers. The representation of list structure is one application of such 
+address arithmetic. 
+
+To model computer memory, we use a new kind of data structure 
+called a vector. Abstractly, a vector is a compound data object whose 
+individual elements can be accessed by means of an integer index in an 
+amount of time that is independent of the index. 5 In order to describe 
+memory operations, we use two primitive Scheme procedures for ma- 
+nipulating vectors: 
+
+• (vector-ref (vector) (n)) returns the n th element of the vector. 
+
+• (vector-set! (vector) (n) (value)) sets the n th element of the 
+vector to the designated value. 
+
+5 We could represent memory as lists of items. However, the access time would then 
+not be independent of the index, since accessing the rfi 1 element of a list requires n — 1 
+cdr operations. 
+
+
+
+724 
+
+
+
+For example, if v is a vector, then (vector-ref v 5) gets the fifth entry 
+in the vector v and (vector-set ! v 5 7) changes the value of the fifth 
+entry of the vector v to 7. 6 For computer memory, this access can be 
+implemented through the use of address arithmetic to combine a base 
+address that specifies the beginning location of a vector in memory with 
+an index that specifies the offset of a particular element of the vector. 
+
+Representing Lisp data 
+
+We can use vectors to implement the basic pair structures required for 
+a list-structured memory. Let us imagine that computer memory is di- 
+vided into two vectors: the-cars and the-cdrs. We will represent list 
+structure as follows: A pointer to a pair is an index into the two vectors. 
+The car of the pair is the entry in the-cars with the designated index, 
+and the cdr of the pair is the entry in the-cdrs with the designated in- 
+dex. We also need a representation for objects other than pairs (such as 
+numbers and symbols) and a way to distinguish one kind of data from 
+another. There are many methods of accomplishing this, but they all re- 
+duce to using typed pointers, that is, to extending the notion of "pointer" 
+to include information on data type. 7 The data type enables the system 
+to distinguish a pointer to a pair (which consists of the "pair" data type 
+and an index into the memory vectors) from pointers to other kinds of 
+data (which consist of some other data type and whatever is being used 
+to represent data of that type). Two data objects are considered to be the 
+
+6 For completeness, we should specify a make-vector operation that constructs vec- 
+tors. However, in the present application we will use vectors only to model fixed divi- 
+sions of the computer memory. 
+
+7 This is precisely the same "tagged data" idea we introduced in Chapter 2 for dealing 
+with generic operations. Here, however, the data types are included at the primitive 
+machine level rather than constructed through the use of lists. 
+
+
+
+725 
+
+
+
+same (eq?) if their pointers are identical. 8 Figure 5.14 illustrates the use 
+of this method to represent the list (( 1 2) 3 4), whose box-and-pointer 
+diagram is also shown. We use letter prefixes to denote the data-type 
+information. Thus, a pointer to the pair with index 5 is denoted p5, the 
+empty list is denoted by the pointer e0, and a pointer to the number 4 
+is denoted n4. In the box-and-pointer diagram, we have indicated at the 
+lower left of each pair the vector index that specifies where the car and 
+cdr of the pair are stored. The blank locations in the-cars and the- 
+cdrs may contain parts of other list structures (not of interest here). 
+
+A pointer to a number, such as n4, might consist of a type indicating 
+numeric data together with the actual representation of the number 4. 9 
+To deal with numbers that are too large to be represented in the fixed 
+amount of space allocated for a single pointer, we could use a distinct 
+bignum data type, for which the pointer designates a list in which the 
+parts of the number are stored. 10 
+
+8 Type information may be encoded in a variety of ways, depending on the details of 
+the machine on which the Lisp system is to be implemented. The execution efficiency 
+of Lisp programs will be strongly dependent on how cleverly this choice is made, but it 
+is difficult to formulate general design rules for good choices. The most straightforward 
+way to implement typed pointers is to allocate a fixed set of bits in each pointer to be a 
+type field that encodes the data type. Important questions to be addressed in designing 
+such a representation include the following: How many type bits are required? How 
+large must the vector indices be? How efficiently can the primitive machine instruc- 
+tions be used to manipulate the type fields of pointers? Machines that include special 
+hardware for the efficient handling of type fields are said to have tagged architectures. 
+
+9 This decision on the representation of numbers determines whether eq?, which 
+tests equality of pointers, can be used to test for equality of numbers. If the pointer 
+contains the number itself, then equal numbers will have the same pointer. But if the 
+pointer contains the index of a location where the number is stored, equal numbers 
+will be guaranteed to have equal pointers only if we are careful never to store the same 
+number in more than one location. 
+
+10 This is just like writing a number as a sequence of digits, except that each "digit" 
+
+
+
+726 
+
+
+
+((1 2) 3 4) 
+
+
+
+□ 
+
+
+
+Index 
+
+
+0 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+7 8 . . . 
+
+
+the-cars 
+
+
+
+
+p5 
+
+
+n3 
+
+
+
+
+n4 
+
+
+n1 
+
+
+
+
+n2 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+the-cdrs 
+
+
+
+
+P2 
+
+
+p4 
+
+
+
+
+e0 
+
+
+P7 
+
+
+
+
+e0 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Figure 5.T4: Box-and-pointer and memory-vector repre- 
+sentations of the list (( 1 2) 3 4). 
+
+
+
+A symbol might be represented as a typed pointer that designates a 
+sequence of the characters that form the symbol's printed representa- 
+tion. This sequence is constructed by the Lisp reader when the character 
+string is initially encountered in input. Since we want two instances of 
+a symbol to be recognized as the "same" symbol by eq? and we want 
+eq? to be a simple test for equality of pointers, we must ensure that 
+if the reader sees the same character string twice, it will use the same 
+pointer (to the same sequence of characters) to represent both occur- 
+rences. To accomplish this, the reader maintains a table, traditionally 
+called the obarray, of all the symbols it has ever encountered. When the 
+reader encounters a character string and is about to construct a symbol, 
+
+is a number between 0 and the largest number that can be stored in a single pointer. 
+
+
+
+727 
+
+
+
+it checks the obarray to see if it has ever before seen the same character 
+string. If it has not, it uses the characters to construct a new symbol (a 
+typed pointer to a new character sequence) and enters this pointer in 
+the obarray. If the reader has seen the string before, it returns the sym- 
+bol pointer stored in the obarray. This process of replacing character 
+strings by unique pointers is called interning symbols. 
+
+Implementing the primitive list operations 
+
+Given the above representation scheme, we can replace each "primi- 
+tive" list operation of a register machine with one or more primitive 
+vector operations. We will use two registers, the-cars and the-cdrs, 
+to identify the memory vectors, and will assume that vector-ref and 
+vector-set ! are available as primitive operations. We also assume that 
+numeric operations on pointers (such as incrementing a pointer, using 
+a pair pointer to index a vector, or adding two numbers) use only the 
+index portion of the typed pointer. 
+
+For example, we can make a register machine support the instruc- 
+tions 
+
+(assign (regi) (op car) (reg (reg 2 ))) 
+(assign (regx) (op cdr) (reg (reg 2 ))) 
+
+if we implement these, respectively, as 
+
+(assign {regi) (op vector-ref) (reg the-cars) (reg (reg 2 ))) 
+(assign (regi) (op vector-ref) (reg the-cdrs) (reg (reg 2 ))) 
+
+The instructions 
+
+(perform (op set-car!) (reg (regi)) (reg (reg 2 ))) 
+(perform (op set-cdr!) (reg (regi)) (reg (reg 2 ))) 
+
+are implemented as 
+
+
+
+728 
+
+
+
+(perform 
+
+(op vector-set!) (reg the-cars) (reg (regi)) (reg {reg 2 ))) 
+(perform 
+
+(op vector-set!) (reg the-cdrs) (reg (regi)) (reg (reg 2 ))) 
+
+Cons is performed by allocating an unused index and storing the argu- 
+ments to cons in the-cars and the-cdrs at that indexed vector posi- 
+tion. We presume that there is a special register, free, that always holds 
+a pair pointer containing the next available index, and that we can in- 
+crement the index part of that pointer to find the next free location. 11 
+For example, the instruction 
+
+(assign (reg{) (op cons) (reg (reg 2 )) (reg (reg 3 ))) 
+
+is implemented as the following sequence of vector operations: 12 
+
+(perform 
+
+(op vector-set!) (reg the-cars) (reg free) (reg (reg 2 ))) 
+(perform 
+
+(op vector-set!) (reg the-cdrs) (reg free) (reg {reg-}})) 
+(assign {reg{} (reg free)) 
+(assign free (op +) (reg free) (const 1)) 
+
+The eq? operation 
+
+(op eq?) (reg (regi)) (reg (reg 2 )) 
+
+simply tests the equality of all fields in the registers, and predicates such 
+as pair?, null?, symbol?, and number? need only check the type field. 
+
+11 There are other ways of finding free storage. For example, we could link together 
+all the unused pairs into a free list. Our free locations are consecutive (and hence can 
+be accessed by incrementing a pointer) because we are using a compacting garbage 
+collector, as we will see in Section 5.3.2. 
+
+12 This is essentially the implementation of cons in terms of set-car! andset-cdr!, 
+as described in Section 3.3.1. The operation get-new-pair used in that implementation 
+is realized here by the free pointer. 
+
+
+
+729 
+
+
+
+Implementing stacks 
+
+Although our register machines use stacks, we need do nothing special 
+here, since stacks can be modeled in terms of lists. The stack can be a 
+list of the saved values, pointed to by a special register the-stack. Thus, 
+(save (reg)) can be implemented as 
+
+(assign the-stack (op cons) (reg (reg)) (reg the-stack)) 
+Similarly, (restore (reg)) can be implemented as 
+
+(assign (reg) (op car) (reg the-stack)) 
+(assign the-stack (op cdr) (reg the-stack)) 
+
+and (perform (op initialize-stack)) can be implemented as 
+(assign the-stack (const ())) 
+
+These operations can be further expanded in terms of the vector opera- 
+tions given above. In conventional computer architectures, however, it 
+is usually advantageous to allocate the stack as a separate vector. Then 
+pushing and popping the stack can be accomplished by incrementing 
+or decrementing an index into that vector. 
+
+Exercise 5.20: Draw the box-and-pointer representation 
+and the memory- vector representation (as in Figure 5.14) 
+of the list structure produced by 
+
+(define x (cons 1 2)) 
+(define y (list x x)) 
+
+with the free pointer initially p1 . What is the final value of 
+free ? What pointers represent the values of x and y ? 
+
+Exercise 5.2T: Implement register machines for the follow- 
+ing procedures. Assume that the list-structure memory op- 
+erations are available as machine primitives. 
+
+
+
+730 
+
+
+
+a. Recursive count-leaves: 
+
+
+
+(define (count-leaves tree) 
+(cond ((null? tree) 0) 
+
+((not (pair? tree)) 1) 
+
+(else (+ (count-leaves (car tree)) 
+
+(count-leaves (cdr tree)))))) 
+
+
+
+b. Recursive count-leaves with explicit counter: 
+
+(define (count-leaves tree) 
+(define (count-iter tree n) 
+(cond ((null? tree) n) 
+
+((not (pair? tree)) (+ n 1)) 
+(else 
+
+(count-iter (cdr tree) 
+
+(count-iter (car tree) 
+n))))) 
+
+(count-iter tree 0)) 
+
+
+
+Exercise 5.22: Exercise 3.12 of Section 3.3.1 presented an 
+append procedure that appends two lists to form a new list 
+and an append! procedure that splices two lists together. 
+Design a register machine to implement each of these pro- 
+cedures. Assume that the list-structure memory operations 
+are available as primitive operations. 
+
+5.3.2 Maintaining the Illusion of Infinite Memory 
+
+The representation method outlined in Section 5.3.1 solves the problem 
+of implementing list structure, provided that we have an infinite amount 
+of memory. With a real computer we will eventually run out of free 
+
+
+
+731 
+
+
+
+space in which to construct new pairs. 13 However, most of the pairs 
+generated in a typical computation are used only to hold intermediate 
+results. After these results are accessed, the pairs are no longer needed— 
+they are garbage. For instance, the computation 
+
+(accumulate + 0 (filter odd? (enumerate-interval 0 n))) 
+
+constructs two lists: the enumeration and the result of filtering the enu- 
+meration. When the accumulation is complete, these lists are no longer 
+needed, and the allocated memory can be reclaimed. If we can arrange 
+to collect all the garbage periodically, and if this turns out to recycle 
+memory at about the same rate at which we construct new pairs, we will 
+have preserved the illusion that there is an infinite amount of memory. 
+
+In order to recycle pairs, we must have a way to determine which 
+allocated pairs are not needed (in the sense that their contents can no 
+longer influence the future of the computation). The method we shall 
+examine for accomplishing this is known as garbage collection. Garbage 
+collection is based on the observation that, at any moment in a Lisp 
+interpretation, the only objects that can affect the future of the compu- 
+tation are those that can be reached by some succession of car and cdr 
+operations starting from the pointers that are currently in the machine 
+
+13 This may not be true eventually, because memories may get large enough so that 
+it would be impossible to run out of free memory in the lifetime of the computer. For 
+example, there are about 3 • 10 13 microseconds in a year, so if we were to cons once 
+per microsecond we would need about 10 15 cells of memory to build a machine that 
+could operate for 30 years without running out of memory. That much memory seems 
+absurdly large by today's standards, but it is not physically impossible. On the other 
+hand, processors are getting faster and a future computer may have large numbers of 
+processors operating in parallel on a single memory, so it may be possible to use up 
+memory much faster than we have postulated. 
+
+
+
+732 
+
+
+
+registers. 14 Any memory cell that is not so accessible may be recycled. 
+
+There are many ways to perform garbage collection. The method 
+we shall examine here is called stop- and- copy. The basic idea is to divide 
+memory into two halves: "working memory" and "free memory." When 
+cons constructs pairs, it allocates these in working memory. When work- 
+ing memory is full, we perform garbage collection by locating all the 
+use- ful pairs in working memory and copying these into consecutive 
+locations in free memory. (The useful pairs are located by tracing all the 
+car and cdr pointers, starting with the machine registers.) Since we do 
+not copy the garbage, there will presumably be additional free memory 
+that we can use to allocate new pairs. In addition, nothing in the work- 
+ing memory is needed, since all the useful pairs in it have been copied. 
+Thus, if we inter- change the roles of working memory and free mem- 
+ory, we can continue processing; new pairs will be allocated in the new 
+working memory (which was the old free memory). When this is full, 
+we can copy the useful pairs into the new free memory (which was the 
+old working memory). 15 
+
+14 We assume here that the stack is represented as a list as described in Section 5.3.1, 
+so that items on the stack are accessible via the pointer in the stack register. 
+
+15 This idea was invented and first implemented by Minsky, as part of the imple- 
+mentation of Lisp for the PDP-1 at the mit Research Laboratory of Electronics. It was 
+further developed by Fenichel and Yochelson (1969) for use in the Lisp implementa- 
+tion for the Multics time-sharing system. Later, Baker (1978) developed a "real-time" 
+version of the method, which does not require the computation to stop during garbage 
+collection. Baker's idea was extended by Hewitt, Lieberman, and Moon (see Lieberman 
+and Hewitt 1983) to take advantage of the fact that some structure is more volatile and 
+other structure is more permanent. 
+
+An alternative commonly used garbage-collection technique is the mark-sweep 
+method. This consists of tracing all the structure accessible from the machine registers 
+and marking each pair we reach. We then scan all of memory, and any location that is 
+unmarked is "swept up" as garbage and made available for reuse. A full discussion of 
+
+
+
+733 
+
+
+
+Implementation of a stop-and-copy garbage collector 
+
+We now use our register-machine language to describe the stop-and- 
+copy algorithm in more detail. We will assume that there is a register 
+called root that contains a pointer to a structure that eventually points 
+at all accessible data. This can be arranged by storing the contents of 
+all the machine registers in a pre-allocated list pointed at by root just 
+before starting garbage collection. 16 We also assume that, in addition to 
+the current working memory, there is free memory available into which 
+we can copy the useful data. The current working memory consists of 
+vectors whose base addresses are in registers called the-cars and the- 
+cdrs, and the free memory is in registers called new-cars and new-cdrs. 
+
+Garbage collection is triggered when we exhaust the free cells in 
+the current working memory, that is, when a cons operation attempts 
+to increment the free pointer beyond the end of the memory vector. 
+When the garbage-collection process is complete, the root pointer will 
+point into the new memory, all objects accessible from the root will 
+have been moved to the new memory, and the free pointer will indicate 
+the next place in the new memory where a new pair can be allocated. 
+In addition, the roles of working memory and new memory will have 
+
+the mark-sweep method can be found in Allen 1978. 
+
+The Minsky-Fenichel-Yochelson algorithm is the dominant algorithm in use for large- 
+memory systems because it examines only the useful part of memory. This is in contrast 
+to mark-sweep, in which the sweep phase must check all of memory. A second advan- 
+tage of stop-and-copy is that it is a compacting garbage collector. That is, at the end 
+of the garbage-collection phase the useful data will have been moved to consecutive 
+memory locations, with all garbage pairs compressed out. This can be an extremely 
+important performance consideration in machines with virtual memory, in which ac- 
+cesses to widely separated memory addresses may require extra paging operations. 
+
+16 This list of registers does not include the registers used by the storage-allocation 
+system— root, the-cars, the-cdrs, and the other registers that will be introduced in 
+this section. 
+
+
+
+734 
+
+
+
+been interchanged— new pairs will be constructed in the new memory, 
+beginning at the place indicated by free, and the (previous) working 
+memory will be available as the new memory for the next garbage col- 
+lection. Figure 5.15 shows the arrangement of memory just before and 
+just after garbage collection. 
+
+The state of the garbage-collection process is controlled by main- 
+taining two pointers: free and scan. These are initialized to point to 
+the beginning of the new memory. The algorithm begins by relocating 
+the pair pointed at by root to the beginning of the new memory. The 
+pair is copied, the root pointer is adjusted to point to the new location, 
+and the free pointer is incremented. In addition, the old location of the 
+pair is marked to show that its contents have been moved. This mark- 
+ing is done as follows: In the car position, we place a special tag that 
+signals that this is an already-moved object. (Such an object is tradition- 
+ally called a broken heart.) 17 In the cdr position we place a. forwarding 
+address that points at the location to which the object has been moved. 
+
+After relocating the root, the garbage collector enters its basic cy- 
+cle. At each step in the algorithm, the scan pointer (initially pointing 
+at the relocated root) points at a pair that has been moved to the new 
+memory but whose car and cdr pointers still refer to objects in the old 
+memory. These objects are each relocated, and the scan pointer is in- 
+cremented. To relocate an object (for example, the object indicated by 
+the car pointer of the pair we are scanning) we check to see if the object 
+has already been moved (as indicated by the presence of a broken-heart 
+tag in the car position of the object). If the object has not already been 
+moved, we copy it to the place indicated by free, update free, set up 
+a broken heart at the object's old location, and update the pointer to 
+
+17 The term broken heart was coined by David Cressey, who wrote a garbage collector 
+for MDL, a dialect of Lisp developed at mit during the early 1970s. 
+
+
+
+735 
+
+
+
+Just before garbage collection 
+
+
+
+the-cars 
+the-cdrs 
+
+
+
+mixture of useful data and garbage 
+
+
+
+T 
+
+free 
+
+
+
+working 
+memory 
+
+
+
+new-cars 
+new-cdrs 
+
+
+
+free memory 
+
+
+
+free 
+
+memory 
+
+
+
+new-cars 
+new-cdrs 
+
+
+
+Just after garbage collection 
+
+
+
+discarded memory 
+
+
+
+new 
+free 
+
+memory 
+
+
+
+the-cars 
+the-cdrs 
+
+
+
+useful data 
+
+
+
+free area 
+
+
+
+new 
+
+working 
+memory 
+
+
+
+free 
+
+
+
+Figure 5.T5: Reconfiguration of memory by the garbage- 
+collection process. 
+
+
+
+736 
+
+
+
+the object (in this example, the car pointer of the pair we are scanning) 
+to point to the new location. If the object has already been moved, its 
+forwarding address (found in the cdr position of the broken heart) is 
+substituted for the pointer in the pair being scanned. Eventually, all ac- 
+cessible objects will have been moved and scanned, at which point the 
+scan pointer will overtake the free pointer and the process will termi- 
+nate. 
+
+We can specify the stop-and-copy algorithm as a sequence of in- 
+structions for a register machine. The basic step of relocating an object 
+is accomplished by a subroutine called relocate-old-result-in-new. 
+This subroutine gets its argument, a pointer to the object to be relo- 
+cated, from a register named old. It relocates the designated object (in- 
+crementing free in the process), puts a pointer to the relocated object 
+into a register called new, and returns by branching to the entry point 
+stored in the register relocate-continue. To begin garbage collection, 
+we invoke this subroutine to relocate the root pointer, after initializing 
+free and scan. When the relocation of root has been accomplished, we 
+install the new pointer as the new root and enter the main loop of the 
+garbage collector. 
+
+begin-garbage-col lection 
+(assign free (const 0)) 
+(assign scan (const 0)) 
+(assign old (reg root)) 
+
+(assign relocate-continue (label reassign-root)) 
+(goto (label relocate-old-result-in-new)) 
+reassign-root 
+
+(assign root (reg new)) 
+(goto (label gc-loop)) 
+
+In the main loop of the garbage collector we must determine whether 
+there are any more objects to be scanned. We do this by testing whether 
+
+
+
+737 
+
+
+
+the scan pointer is coincident with the free pointer. If the pointers are 
+equal, then all accessible objects have been relocated, and we branch 
+to gc-flip, which cleans things up so that we can continue the inter- 
+rupted computation. If there are still pairs to be scanned, we call the 
+relocate subroutine to relocate the car of the next pair (by placing the 
+car pointer in old). The relocate-continue register is set up so that 
+the subroutine will return to update the car pointer. 
+
+gc-loop 
+
+(test (op =) (reg scan) (reg free)) 
+(branch (label gc-flip)) 
+
+(assign old (op vector-ref) (reg new-cars) (reg scan)) 
+(assign relocate-continue (label update-car)) 
+(goto (label relocate-old-result-in-new)) 
+
+At update-car, we modify the car pointer of the pair being scanned, 
+then proceed to relocate the cdr of the pair. We return to update-cdr 
+when that relocation has been accomplished. After relocating and up- 
+dating the cdr, we are finished scanning that pair, so we continue with 
+the main loop. 
+
+update-car 
+
+(perform (op vector-set!) 
+(reg new-cars) 
+(reg scan) 
+(reg new)) 
+
+(assign old (op vector-ref) (reg new-cdrs) (reg scan)) 
+(assign relocate-continue (label update-cdr)) 
+(goto (label relocate-old-result-in-new)) 
+update-cdr 
+
+(perform (op vector-set!) 
+
+(reg new-cdrs) 
+
+(reg scan) 
+
+(reg new)) 
+
+
+
+738 
+
+
+
+(assign scan (op +) (reg scan) (const 1)) 
+(goto (label gc-loop)) 
+
+The subroutine relocate-old-result-in-new relocates objects as fol- 
+lows: If the object to be relocated (pointed at by old) is not a pair, then 
+we return the same pointer to the object unchanged (in new). (For exam- 
+ple, we may be scanning a pair whose car is the number 4. If we repre- 
+sent the car by n4, as described in Section 5.3.1, then we want the "relo- 
+cated" car pointer to still be n4.) Otherwise, we must perform the relo- 
+cation. If the car position of the pair to be relocated contains a broken- 
+heart tag, then the pair has in fact already been moved, so we retrieve 
+the forwarding address (from the cdr position of the broken heart) and 
+return this in new. If the pointer in old points at a yet-unmoved pair, 
+then we move the pair to the first free cell in new memory (pointed at 
+by free) and set up the broken heart by storing a broken-heart tag and 
+forwarding address at the old location. Relocate-old-result-in-new 
+uses a register older to hold the car or the cdr of the object pointed at 
+by old. 18 
+
+relocate-old- result- in-new 
+
+(test (op pointer-to-pair?) (reg old)) 
+
+(branch (label pair)) 
+
+(assign new (reg old)) 
+
+(goto (reg relocate-continue) ) 
+pair 
+
+(assign older (op vector-ref) (reg the-cars) (reg old)) 
+
+18 The garbage collector uses the low-level predicate pointer-to-pair? instead of 
+the list-structure pair? operation because in a real system there might be various things 
+that are treated as pairs for garbage-collection purposes. For example, in a Scheme 
+system that conforms to the ieee standard a procedure object may be implemented as 
+a special kind of "pair" that doesn't satisfy the pair? predicate. For simulation purposes, 
+pointer-to-pair? can be implemented as pair?. 
+
+
+
+739 
+
+
+
+(test (op broken-heart?) (reg older)) 
+(branch (label already-moved)) 
+(assign new (reg free)) ; new location for pair 
+;; Update free pointer. 
+
+(assign free (op +) (reg free) (const 1)) 
+;; Copy the car and cdr to new memory, 
+(perform (op vector-set!) 
+
+(reg new-cars) (reg new) (reg older)) 
+(assign older (op vector-ref) (reg the-cdrs) (reg old)) 
+(perform (op vector-set!) 
+
+(reg new-cdrs) (reg new) (reg older)) 
+;; Construct the broken heart, 
+(perform (op vector-set!) 
+
+(reg the-cars) (reg old) (const broken-heart)) 
+
+(perform 
+
+(op vector-set!) (reg the-cdrs) (reg old) (reg new)) 
+(goto (reg relocate-continue) ) 
+already-moved 
+
+(assign new (op vector-ref) (reg the-cdrs) (reg old)) 
+(goto (reg relocate-continue)) 
+
+At the very end of the garbage-collection process, we interchange the 
+role of old and new memories by interchanging pointers: interchanging 
+the-cars with new-cars, and the-cdrs with new-cdrs. We will then 
+be ready to perform another garbage collection the next time memory 
+runs out. 
+
+gc-flip 
+
+(assign temp (reg the-cdrs)) 
+(assign the-cdrs (reg new-cdrs)) 
+(assign new-cdrs (reg temp)) 
+(assign temp (reg the-cars)) 
+(assign the-cars (reg new-cars)) 
+(assign new-cars (reg temp)) 
+
+
+
+740 
+
+
+
+5.4 The Explicit-Control Evaluator 
+
+
+
+In Section 5.1 we saw how to transform simple Scheme programs into 
+descriptions of register machines. We will now perform this transforma- 
+tion on a more complex program, the metacircular evaluator of Section 
+4.1.1-Section 4.1.4, which shows how the behavior of a Scheme inter- 
+preter can be described in terms of the procedures eval and apply. The 
+explicit-control evaluator that we develop in this section shows how the 
+underlying procedure-calling and argument-passing mechanisms used 
+in the evaluation process can be described in terms of operations on reg- 
+isters and stacks. In addition, the explicit- control evaluator can serve as 
+an implementation of a Scheme interpreter, written in a language that 
+is very similar to the native machine language of conventional comput- 
+ers. The evaluator can be executed by the register-machine simulator 
+of Section 5.2. Alternatively, it can be used as a starting point for build- 
+ing a machine -language implementation of a Scheme evaluator, or even 
+a special-purpose machine for evaluating Scheme expressions. Figure 
+5.16 shows such a hardware implementation: a silicon chip that acts as 
+an evaluator for Scheme. The chip designers started with the data-path 
+and controller specifications for a register machine similar to the evalu- 
+ator described in this section and used design automation programs to 
+construct the integrated-circuit layout. 19 
+
+Registers and operations 
+
+In designing the explicit-control evaluator, we must specify the opera- 
+tions to be used in our register machine. We described the metacircular 
+evaluator in terms of abstract syntax, using procedures such as quoted? 
+
+19 See Batali et al. 1982 for more information on the chip and the method by which it 
+was designed. 
+
+
+
+741 
+
+
+
+
+and make-procedure. In implementing the register machine, we could 
+expand these procedures into sequences of elementary list-structure 
+memory operations, and implement these operations on our register 
+machine. However, this would make our evaluator very long, obscur- 
+ing the basic structure with details. To clarify the presentation, we will 
+include as primitive operations of the register machine the syntax pro- 
+cedures given in Section 4.1.2 and the procedures for representing en- 
+vironments and other run-time data given in sections Section 4.1.3 and 
+Section 4.1.4. In order to completely specify an evaluator that could be 
+programmed in a low-level machine language or implemented in hard- 
+
+
+
+742 
+
+
+
+ware, we would replace these operations by more elementary opera- 
+tions, using the list-structure implementation we described in Section 
+5.3. 
+
+Our Scheme evaluator register machine includes a stack and seven 
+registers: exp, env, val, continue, proc, argl, and unev. Exp is used to 
+hold the expression to be evaluated, and env contains the environment 
+in which the evaluation is to be performed. At the end of an evalua- 
+tion, val contains the value obtained by evaluating the expression in 
+the designated environment. The continue register is used to imple- 
+ment recursion, as explained in Section 5.1.4. (The evaluator needs to 
+call itself recursively, since evaluating an expression requires evaluat- 
+ing its subexpressions.) The registers proc, argl, and unev are used in 
+evaluating combinations. 
+
+We will not provide a data-path diagram to show how the regis- 
+ters and operations of the evaluator are connected, nor will we give the 
+complete list of machine operations. These are implicit in the evalua- 
+tor's controller, which will be presented in detail. 
+
+5.4.1 The Core of the Explicit-Control Evaluator 
+
+The central element in the evaluator is the sequence of instructions be- 
+ginning at eval-dispatch. This corresponds to the eval procedure of 
+the metacircular evaluator described in Section 4.1.1. When the con- 
+troller starts at eval-dispatch, it evaluates the expression specified by 
+exp in the environment specified by env. When evaluation is complete, 
+the controller will go to the entry point stored in continue, and the val 
+register will hold the value of the expression. As with the metacircular 
+eval, the structure of eval-dispatch is a case analysis on the syntactic 
+
+
+
+743 
+
+
+
+type of the expression to be evaluated. 20 
+
+eval-dispatch 
+
+(test (op self-evaluating?) (reg exp)) 
+
+(branch (label ev-self-eval)) 
+
+(test (op variable?) (reg exp)) 
+
+(branch (label ev-variable)) 
+
+(test (op quoted?) (reg exp)) 
+
+(branch (label ev-quoted)) 
+
+(test (op assignment?) (reg exp)) 
+
+(branch (label ev-assignment) ) 
+
+(test (op definition?) (reg exp)) 
+
+(branch (label ev-def inition) ) 
+
+(test (op if?) (reg exp)) 
+
+(branch (label ev-if)) 
+
+(test (op lambda?) (reg exp)) 
+
+(branch (label ev-lambda)) 
+
+(test (op begin?) (reg exp)) 
+
+(branch (label ev-begin)) 
+
+(test (op application?) (reg exp)) 
+
+(branch (label ev-application)) 
+
+(goto (label unknown-expression-type)) 
+
+Evaluating simple expressions 
+
+Numbers and strings (which are self-evaluating), variables, quotations, 
+and lambda expressions have no subexpressions to be evaluated. For 
+
+In our controller, the dispatch is written as a sequence of test and branch in- 
+structions. Alternatively, it could have been written in a data-directed style (and in a 
+real system it probably would have been) to avoid the need to perform sequential tests 
+and to facilitate the definition of new expression types. A machine designed to run Lisp 
+would probably include a dispatch-on-type instruction that would efficiently execute 
+such data-directed dispatches. 
+
+
+
+744 
+
+
+
+these, the evaluator simply places the correct value in the val register 
+and continues execution at the entry point specified by continue. Eval- 
+uation of simple expressions is performed by the following controller 
+code: 
+
+ev-self-eval 
+
+(assign val (reg exp)) 
+
+(goto (reg continue)) 
+ev-variable 
+
+(assign val (op lookup-variable-value) (reg exp) (reg env)) 
+(goto (reg continue)) 
+ev-quoted 
+
+(assign val (op text-of-quotation) (reg exp)) 
+(goto (reg continue)) 
+ev-lambda 
+
+(assign unev (op lambda-parameters) (reg exp)) 
+(assign exp (op lambda-body) (reg exp)) 
+
+(assign val (op make-procedure) (reg unev) (reg exp) (reg env)) 
+(goto (reg continue)) 
+
+Observe how ev-lambda uses the unev and exp registers to hold the pa- 
+rameters and body of the lambda expression so that they can be passed 
+to the make-procedure operation, along with the environment in env. 
+
+Evaluating procedure applications 
+
+A procedure application is specified by a combination containing an op- 
+erator and operands. The operator is a subexpression whose value is a 
+procedure, and the operands are subexpressions whose values are the 
+arguments to which the procedure should be applied. The metacircu- 
+lar eval handles applications by calling itself recursively to evaluate 
+each element of the combination, and then passing the results to apply, 
+which performs the actual procedure application. The explicit-control 
+
+
+
+745 
+
+
+
+evaluator does the same thing; these recursive calls are implemented 
+by goto instructions, together with use of the stack to save registers 
+that will be restored after the recursive call returns. Before each call we 
+will be careful to identify which registers must be saved (because their 
+values will be needed later). 21 
+
+We begin the evaluation of an application by evaluating the opera- 
+tor to produce a procedure, which will later be applied to the evaluated 
+operands. To evaluate the operator, we move it to the exp register and go 
+to eval-dispatch. The environment in the env register is already the 
+correct one in which to evaluate the operator. However, we save env 
+because we will need it later to evaluate the operands. We also extract 
+the operands into unev and save this on the stack. We set up continue 
+so that eval-dispatch will resume at ev-appl-did-operator after the 
+operator has been evaluated. First, however, we save the old value of 
+continue, which tells the controller where to continue after the appli- 
+cation. 
+
+ev-application 
+(save continue) 
+(save env) 
+
+(assign unev (op operands) (reg exp)) 
+(save unev) 
+
+(assign exp (op operator) (reg exp)) 
+
+(assign continue (label ev-appl-did-operator)) 
+
+(goto (label eval-dispatch)) 
+
+This is an important but subtle point in translating algorithms from a procedural 
+language, such as Lisp, to a register-machine language. As an alternative to saving only 
+what is needed, we could save all the registers (except val) before each recursive call. 
+This is called a framed-stack discipline. This would work but might save more registers 
+than necessary; this could be an important consideration in a system where stack op- 
+erations are expensive. Saving registers whose contents will not be needed later may 
+also hold onto useless data that could otherwise be garbage-collected, freeing space to 
+be reused. 
+
+746 
+
+
+
+Upon returning from evaluating the operator subexpression, we pro- 
+ceed to evaluate the operands of the combination and to accumulate the 
+resulting arguments in a list, held in argl. First we restore the unevalu- 
+ated operands and the environment. We initialize argl to an empty list. 
+Then we assign to the proc register the procedure that was produced 
+by evaluating the operator. If there are no operands, we go directly to 
+apply-dispatch. Otherwise we save proc on the stack and start the 
+argument-evaluation loop: 22 
+
+ev-appl-d id-opera tor 
+
+(restore unev) ; the operands 
+
+(restore env) 
+
+(assign argl (op empty-arglist)) 
+
+(assign proc (reg val)) ; the operator 
+
+(test (op no-operands?) (reg unev)) 
+
+(branch (label apply-dispatch)) 
+
+(save proc) 
+
+Each cycle of the argument-evaluation loop evaluates an operand from 
+the list in unev and accumulates the result into argl. To evaluate an 
+operand, we place it in the exp register and go to eval-dispatch, af- 
+ter setting continue so that execution will resume with the argument- 
+accumulation phase. But first we save the arguments accumulated so 
+
+We add to the evaluator data-structure procedures in Section 4.1.3 the following 
+two procedures for manipulating argument lists: 
+
+(define (empty-arglist) '()) 
+
+(define (adjoin-arg arg arglist) (append arglist (list arg))) 
+
+We also use an additional syntax procedure to test for the last operand in a combi- 
+nation: 
+
+(define (last-operand? ops) (null? (cdr ops))) 
+
+
+
+747 
+
+
+
+far (held in argl), the environment (held in env), and the remaining 
+operands to be evaluated (held in unev). A special case is made for the 
+evaluation of the last operand, which is handled at ev-appl-last-arg. 
+
+ev-appl-operand-loop 
+(save argl) 
+
+(assign exp (op first-operand) (reg unev)) 
+(test (op last-operand?) (reg unev)) 
+(branch (label ev-appl-last-arg)) 
+(save env) 
+(save unev) 
+
+(assign continue (label ev-appl-accumulate-arg)) 
+(goto (label eval-dispatch)) 
+
+When an operand has been evaluated, the value is accumulated into the 
+list held in argl. The operand is then removed from the list of unevalu- 
+ated operands in unev, and the argument-evaluation continues. 
+
+ev-appl-accumulate-arg 
+(restore unev) 
+(restore env) 
+(restore argl) 
+
+(assign argl (op adjoin-arg) (reg val) (reg argl)) 
+(assign unev (op rest-operands) (reg unev)) 
+(goto (label ev-appl-operand-loop)) 
+
+Evaluation of the last argument is handled differently. There is no need 
+to save the environment or the list of unevaluated operands before going 
+to eval-dispatch, since they will not be required after the last operand 
+is evaluated. Thus, we return from the evaluation to a special entry point 
+ev-appl-accum-last-arg, which restores the argument list, accumu- 
+lates the new argument, restores the saved procedure, and goes off to 
+perform the application. 23 
+
+23 1he optimization of treating the last operand specially is known as evlis tail recur- 
+
+
+
+748 
+
+
+
+ev-appl-last-arg 
+
+(assign continue (label ev-appl-accum-last-arg)) 
+
+(goto (label eval-dispatch)) 
+ev-appl-accum-last-arg 
+
+(restore argl) 
+
+(assign argl (op adjoin-arg) (reg val) (reg argl)) 
+(restore proc) 
+
+(goto (label apply-dispatch) ) 
+
+The details of the argument-evaluation loop determine the order in which 
+the interpreter evaluates the operands of a combination (e.g., left to right 
+or right to left— see Exercise 3.8). This order is not determined by the 
+metacircular evaluator, which inherits its control structure from the 
+underlying Scheme in which it is implemented. 24 Because the first- 
+operand selector (used in ev-appl-operand-loop to extract successive 
+operands from unev) is implemented as car and the rest-operands se- 
+lector is implemented as cd r, the explicit-control evaluator will evaluate 
+the operands of a combination in left-to-right order. 
+
+Procedure application 
+
+The entry point apply-dispatch corresponds to the apply procedure 
+of the metacircular evaluator. By the time we get to apply-dispatch, 
+the proc register contains the procedure to apply and argl contains 
+
+sion (see Wand 1980). We could be somewhat more efficient in the argument evaluation 
+loop if we made evaluation of the first operand a special case too. This would permit us 
+to postpone initializing argl until after evaluating the first operand, so as to avoid sav- 
+ing argl in this case. The compiler in Section 5.5 performs this optimization. (Compare 
+the construct-arglist procedure of Section 5.5.3.) 
+
+24 The order of operand evaluation in the metacircular evaluator is determined by 
+the order of evaluation of the arguments to cons in the procedure list-of-values of 
+Section 4.1.1 (see Exercise 4.1). 
+
+
+
+749 
+
+
+
+the list of evaluated arguments to which it must be applied. The saved 
+value of continue (originally passed to eval-dispatch and saved at ev- 
+application), which tells where to return with the result of the proce- 
+dure application, is on the stack. When the application is complete, the 
+controller transfers to the entry point specified by the saved continue, 
+with the result of the application in val. As with the metacircular apply, 
+there are two cases to consider. Either the procedure to be applied is a 
+primitive or it is a compound procedure. 
+
+apply-dispatch 
+
+(test (op primitive-procedure?) (reg proc)) 
+
+(branch (label primitive-apply)) 
+
+(test (op compound-procedure?) (reg proc)) 
+
+(branch (label compound-apply)) 
+
+(goto (label unknown-procedure-type)) 
+
+We assume that each primitive is implemented so as to obtain its argu- 
+ments from argl and place its result in val. To specify how the machine 
+handles primitives, we would have to provide a sequence of controller 
+instructions to implement each primitive and arrange for primitive- 
+apply to dispatch to the instructions for the primitive identified by the 
+contents of proc. Since we are interested in the structure of the evalua- 
+tion process rather than the details of the primitives, we will instead just 
+use an apply-primitive-procedure operation that applies the proce- 
+dure in proc to the arguments in argl. For the purpose of simulating 
+the evaluator with the simulator of Section 5.2 we use the procedure 
+apply-primitive-procedure, which calls on the underlying Scheme 
+system to perform the application, just as we did for the metacircular 
+evaluator in Section 4.1.4. After computing the value of the primitive 
+application, we restore continue and go to the designated entry point. 
+
+
+
+750 
+
+
+
+primitive-apply 
+
+(assign val (op apply-primitive-procedure) 
+
+(reg proc) 
+
+(reg argl)) 
+(restore continue) 
+(goto (reg continue)) 
+
+To apply a compound procedure, we proceed just as with the metacir- 
+cular evaluator. We construct a frame that binds the procedure's pa- 
+rameters to the arguments, use this frame to extend the environment 
+carried by the procedure, and evaluate in this extended environment 
+the sequence of expressions that forms the body of the procedure. Ev- 
+sequence, described below in Section 5.4.2, handles the evaluation of 
+the sequence. 
+
+compound-apply 
+
+(assign unev (op procedure-parameters) (reg proc)) 
+(assign env (op procedure-environment) (reg proc)) 
+(assign env (op extend-environment) 
+
+(reg unev) (reg argl) (reg env)) 
+(assign unev (op procedure-body) (reg proc)) 
+(goto (label ev-sequence) ) 
+
+Compound-apply is the only place in the interpreter where the env reg- 
+ister is ever assigned a new value. Just as in the metacircular evaluator, 
+the new environment is constructed from the environment carried by 
+the procedure, together with the argument list and the corresponding 
+list of variables to be bound. 
+
+5.4.2 Sequence Evaluation and Tail Recursion 
+
+The portion of the explicit-control evaluator at ev-sequence is analo- 
+gous to the metacircular evaluator's eval-sequence procedure. It han- 
+
+
+
+751 
+
+
+
+dies sequences of expressions in procedure bodies or in explicit begin 
+expressions. 
+
+Explicit begin expressions are evaluated by placing the sequence of 
+expressions to be evaluated in unev, saving continue on the stack, and 
+jumping to ev-sequence. 
+
+ev-begin 
+
+(assign unev (op begin-actions) (reg exp)) 
+
+(save continue) 
+
+(goto (label ev-sequence)) 
+
+The implicit sequences in procedure bodies are handled by jumping to 
+ev-sequence from compound-apply, at which point continue is already 
+on the stack, having been saved at ev-application. 
+
+The entries at ev-sequence and ev-sequence-continue form aloop 
+that successively evaluates each expression in a sequence. The list of 
+unevaluated expressions is kept in unev. Before evaluating each expres- 
+sion, we check to see if there are additional expressions to be evaluated 
+in the sequence. If so, we save the rest of the unevaluated expressions 
+(held in unev) and the environment in which these must be evaluated 
+(held in env) and call eval-dispatch to evaluate the expression. The 
+two saved registers are restored upon the return from this evaluation, 
+at ev-sequence-continue. 
+
+The final expression in the sequence is handled differently, at the en- 
+try point ev-sequence-last-exp. Since there are no more expressions 
+to be evaluated after this one, we need not save unev or env before go- 
+ing to eval-dispatch. The value of the whole sequence is the value of 
+the last expression, so after the evaluation of the last expression there is 
+nothing left to do except continue at the entry point currently held on 
+the stack (which was saved by ev-application or ev-begin.) Rather 
+than setting up continue to arrange for eval-dispatch to return here 
+
+
+
+752 
+
+
+
+and then restoring continue from the stack and continuing at that en- 
+try point, we restore continue from the stack before going to eval- 
+dispatch, so that eval-dispatch will continue at that entry point af- 
+ter evaluating the expression. 
+
+ev-sequence 
+
+(assign exp (op first-exp) (reg unev)) 
+(test (op last-exp?) (reg unev)) 
+(branch (label ev-sequence-last-exp) ) 
+(save unev) 
+(save env) 
+
+(assign continue (label ev-sequence-continue) ) 
+(goto (label eval-dispatch)) 
+ev-sequence-continue 
+(restore env) 
+(restore unev) 
+
+(assign unev (op rest-exps) (reg unev)) 
+(goto (label ev-sequence)) 
+ev-sequence-last-exp 
+(restore continue) 
+(goto (label eval-dispatch)) 
+
+
+
+Tail recursion 
+
+In Chapter 1 we said that the process described by a procedure such as 
+
+(define (sqrt-iter guess x) 
+(if (good-enough? guess x) 
+guess 
+
+(sqrt-iter (improve guess x) x))) 
+
+is an iterative process. Even though the procedure is syntactically re- 
+cursive (defined in terms of itself), it is not logically necessary for an 
+evaluator to save information in passing from one call to sqrt-iter to 
+
+
+
+753 
+
+
+
+the next. 25 An evaluator that can execute a procedure such as sqrt-iter 
+without requiring increasing storage as the procedure continues to call 
+itself is called a tail-recursive evaluator. The metacircular implementa- 
+tion of the evaluator in Chapter 4 does not specify whether the eval- 
+uator is tail-recursive, because that evaluator inherits its mechanism 
+for saving state from the underlying Scheme. With the explicit-control 
+evaluator, however, we can trace through the evaluation process to see 
+when procedure calls cause a net accumulation of information on the 
+stack. 
+
+Our evaluator is tail-recursive, because in order to evaluate the final 
+expression of a sequence we transfer directly toeval-dispatch without 
+saving any information on the stack. Hence, evaluating the final expres- 
+sion in a sequence— even if it is a procedure call (as in sqrt-iter, where 
+the if expression, which is the last expression in the procedure body, 
+reduces to a call to sqrt-iter)— will not cause any information to be 
+accumulated on the stack. 26 
+
+If we did not think to take advantage of the fact that it was unneces- 
+sary to save information in this case, we might have implemented eval- 
+sequence by treating all the expressions in a sequence in the same way- 
+saving the registers, evaluating the expression, returning to restore the 
+registers, and repeating this until all the expressions have been evalu- 
+ated: 27 
+
+25 We saw in Section 5.1 how to implement such a process with a register machine 
+that had no stack; the state of the process was stored in a fixed set of registers. 
+
+26 This implementation of tail recursion in ev-sequence is one variety of a well- 
+known optimization technique used by many compilers. In compiling a procedure that 
+ends with a procedure call, one can replace the call by a jump to the called procedure's 
+entry point. Building this strategy into the interpreter, as we have done in this section, 
+provides the optimization uniformly throughout the language. 
+
+27 We can define no-more-exps? as follows: 
+
+(define (no-more-exps? seq) (null? seq)) 
+
+
+
+754 
+
+
+
+ev-sequence 
+
+(test (op no-more-exps?) (reg unev)) 
+(branch (label ev-sequence-end)) 
+(assign exp (op first-exp) (reg unev)) 
+(save unev) 
+(save env) 
+
+(assign continue (label ev-sequence-continue) ) 
+(goto (label eval-dispatch)) 
+ev-sequence-continue 
+(restore env) 
+(restore unev) 
+
+(assign unev (op rest-exps) (reg unev)) 
+(goto (label ev-sequence)) 
+ev-sequence-end 
+(restore continue) 
+(goto (reg continue)) 
+
+This may seem like a minor change to our previous code for evaluation 
+of a sequence: The only difference is that we go through the save-restore 
+cycle for the last expression in a sequence as well as for the others. The 
+interpreter will still give the same value for any expression. But this 
+change is fatal to the tail-recursive implementation, because we must 
+now return after evaluating the final expression in a sequence in order 
+to undo the (useless) register saves. These extra saves will accumulate 
+during a nest of procedure calls. Consequently processes such as sqrt- 
+iter will require space proportional to the number of iterations rather 
+than requiring constant space. This difference can be significant. For 
+example, with tail recursion, an infinite loop can be expressed using 
+only the procedure-call mechanism: 
+
+(define (count n) 
+
+(newline) (display n) (count (+ n 1))) 
+
+
+
+755 
+
+
+
+Without tail recursion, such a procedure would eventually run out of 
+stack space, and expressing a true iteration would require some control 
+mechanism other than procedure call. 
+
+
+
+5.4.3 Conditionals, Assignments, and Definitions 
+
+As with the metacircular evaluator, special forms are handled by selec- 
+tively evaluating fragments of the expression. For an i f expression, we 
+must evaluate the predicate and decide, based on the value of predicate, 
+whether to evaluate the consequent or the alternative. 
+
+Before evaluating the predicate, we save the if expression itself so 
+that we can later extract the consequent or alternative. We also save 
+the environment, which we will need later in order to evaluate the con- 
+sequent or the alternative, and we save continue, which we will need 
+later in order to return to the evaluation of the expression that is waiting 
+for the value of the if. 
+
+ev-if 
+
+(save exp) ; save expression for later 
+
+(save env) 
+(save continue) 
+
+(assign continue (label ev-if-decide) ) 
+
+(assign exp (op if-predicate) (reg exp)) 
+
+(goto (label eval-dispatch)) ; evaluate the predicate 
+
+When we return from evaluating the predicate, we test whether it was 
+true or false and, depending on the result, place either the consequent 
+or the alternative in exp before going to eval-dispatch. Notice that 
+restoring env and continue here sets up eval-dispatch to have the 
+correct environment and to continue at the right place to receive the 
+value of the if expression. 
+
+
+
+756 
+
+
+
+ev-if-decide 
+
+(restore continue) 
+(restore env) 
+(restore exp) 
+
+(test (op true?) (reg val)) 
+
+(branch (label ev-if-consequent)) 
+ev- if -alternative 
+
+(assign exp (op if-alternative) (reg exp)) 
+
+(goto (label eval-dispatch) ) 
+ev-if-consequent 
+
+(assign exp (op if-consequent) (reg exp)) 
+
+(goto (label eval-dispatch)) 
+
+Assignments and definitions 
+
+Assignments are handled by ev-assignment, which is reached from 
+eval-dispatch with the assignment expression in exp. The code at ev- 
+assignment first evaluates the value part of the expression and then 
+installs the new value in the environment. Set-variable-value! is as- 
+sumed to be available as a machine operation. 
+
+ev-assignment 
+
+(assign unev (op assignment-variable) (reg exp)) 
+(save unev) ; save variable for later 
+
+(assign exp (op assignment-value) (reg exp)) 
+(save env) 
+(save continue) 
+
+(assign continue (label ev-assignment-1 ) ) 
+(goto (label eval-dispatch)) ; evaluate the assignment value 
+ev-assignment-1 
+
+(restore continue) 
+(restore env) 
+(restore unev) 
+(perform 
+
+757 
+
+
+
+(op set-variable-value!) (reg unev) (reg val) (reg env)) 
+(assign val (const ok)) 
+(goto (reg continue)) 
+
+Definitions are handled in a similar way: 
+
+ev-def inition 
+
+(assign unev (op definition-variable) (reg exp)) 
+(save unev) ; save variable for later 
+
+(assign exp (op definition-value) (reg exp)) 
+(save env) 
+(save continue) 
+
+(assign continue (label ev-def inition-1 ) ) 
+(goto (label eval-dispatch)) ; evaluate the definition value 
+ev-def inition-1 
+
+(restore continue) 
+(restore env) 
+(restore unev) 
+(perform 
+
+(op def ine-variable! ) (reg unev) (reg val) (reg env)) 
+(assign val (const ok)) 
+(goto (reg continue)) 
+
+
+
+Exercise 5.23: Extend the evaluator to handle derived ex- 
+pressions such as cond, let, and so on (Section 4.1.2). You 
+may "cheat" and assume that the syntax transformers such 
+as cond->if are available as machine operations. 28 
+
+Exercise 5.24: Implement cond as a new basic special form 
+without reducing it to i f . You will have to construct a loop 
+
+
+
+28 This isn't really cheating. In an actual implementation built from scratch, we would 
+use our explicit-control evaluator to interpret a Scheme program that performs source- 
+level transformations like cond->if in a syntax phase that runs before execution. 
+
+
+
+758 
+
+
+
+that tests the predicates of successive cond clauses until you 
+find one that is true, and then use ev-sequence to evaluate 
+the actions of the clause. 
+
+Exercise 5.25: Modify the evaluator so that it uses normal- 
+order evaluation, based on the lazy evaluator of Section 4.2. 
+
+5.4.4 Running the Evaluator 
+
+With the implementation of the explicit-control evaluator we come to 
+the end of a development, begun in Chapter 1, in which we have ex- 
+plored successively more precise models of the evaluation process. We 
+started with the relatively informal substitution model, then extended 
+this in Chapter 3 to the environment model, which enabled us to deal 
+with state and change. In the metacircular evaluator of Chapter 4, we 
+used Scheme itself as a language for making more explicit the environ- 
+ment structure constructed during evaluation of an expression. Now, 
+with register machines, we have taken a close look at the evaluator's 
+mechanisms for storage management, argument passing, and control. 
+At each new level of description, we have had to raise issues and resolve 
+ambiguities that were not apparent at the previous, less precise treat- 
+ment of evaluation. To understand the behavior of the explicit-control 
+evaluator, we can simulate it and monitor its performance. 
+
+We will install a driver loop in our evaluator machine. This plays the 
+role of the driver-loop procedure of Section 4.1.4. The evaluator will 
+repeatedly print a prompt, read an expression, evaluate the expression 
+by going to eval-dispatch, and print the result. The following instruc- 
+tions form the beginning of the explicit- control evaluator's controller 
+sequence: 29 
+
+29 We assume here that read and the various printing operations are available as 
+
+
+
+759 
+
+
+
+read-eval -print-loop 
+
+(perform (op initialize-stack)) 
+(perform 
+
+(op prompt-for-input) (const ";;EC-Eval input:")) 
+(assign exp (op read)) 
+
+(assign env (op get-global-environment)) 
+(assign continue (label print-result)) 
+(goto (label eval-dispatch)) 
+print-result 
+
+(perform (op announce-output) (const ";;EC-Eval value:")) 
+(perform (op user-print) (reg val)) 
+(goto (label read-eval-print-loop)) 
+
+When we encounter an error in a procedure (such as the "unknown 
+procedure type error" indicated at apply-dispatch), we print an error 
+message and return to the driver loop. 30 
+
+unknown-express ion- type 
+
+(assign val (const unknown-expression-type-error)) 
+
+(goto (label signal-error)) 
+unknown-procedure- type 
+
+(restore continue) ; clean up stack (from apply-dispatch) 
+
+(assign val (const unknown-procedure-type-error)) 
+
+primitive machine operations, which is useful for our simulation, but completely un- 
+realistic in practice. These are actually extremely complex operations. In practice, they 
+would be implemented using low-level input-output operations such as transferring 
+single characters to and from a device. 
+
+To support the get-global-environment operation we define 
+
+(define the-global-environment (setup-environment)) 
+(define (get-global-environment) the-global-environment) 
+
+30 There are other errors that we would like the interpreter to handle, but these are 
+not so simple. See Exercise 5.30. 
+
+
+
+760 
+
+
+
+(goto (label signal-error)) 
+signal-error 
+
+(perform (op user-print) (reg val)) 
+(goto (label read-eval-print-loop)) 
+
+For the purposes of the simulation, we initialize the stack each time 
+through the driver loop, since it might not be empty after an error (such 
+as an undefined variable) interrupts an evaluation. 31 
+
+If we combine all the code fragments presented in Section 5.4.1- 
+Section 5.4.4, we can create an evaluator machine model that we can 
+run using the register-machine simulator of Section 5.2. 
+
+(define eceval 
+(make-machine 
+1 (exp env val proc argl continue unev) 
+eceval -ope rat ions 
+' (read-eval-print-loop 
+(entire machine controller as given above) ))) 
+
+We must define Scheme procedures to simulate the operations used as 
+primitives by the evaluator. These are the same procedures we used for 
+the metacircular evaluator in Section 4.1, together with the few addi- 
+tional ones defined in footnotes throughout Section 5.4. 
+
+(define eceval-operations 
+
+(list (list 'self-evaluating? self-evaluating) 
+
+(complete list of operations for eceval machine))) 
+
+Finally, we can initialize the global environment and run the evaluator: 
+
+(define the-global-environment (setup-environment)) 
+
+(start eceval) 
+
+; ; ; EC-Eval input: 
+
+31 We could perform the stack initialization only after errors, but doing it in the driver 
+loop will be convenient for monitoring the evaluator's performance, as described below. 
+
+
+
+761 
+
+
+
+(define (append x y) 
+
+(if (null? x) y (cons (car x) (append (cdr x) y)))) 
+; ; ; EC-Eva I value : 
+ok 
+
+;;; EC-Eval input: 
+(append ' (a b c) ' (d e f)) 
+; ; ; EC-Eva I value : 
+(a b c d e f) 
+
+Of course, evaluating expressions in this way will take much longer 
+than if we had directly typed them into Scheme, because of the mul- 
+tiple levels of simulation involved. Our expressions are evaluated by 
+the explicit-control-evaluator machine, which is being simulated by a 
+Scheme program, which is itself being evaluated by the Scheme inter- 
+preter. 
+
+Monitoring the performance of the evaluator 
+
+Simulation can be a powerful tool to guide the implementation of eval- 
+uators. Simulations make it easy not only to explore variations of the 
+register-machine design but also to monitor the performance of the sim- 
+ulated evaluator. For example, one important factor in performance is 
+how efficiently the evaluator uses the stack. We can observe the number 
+of stack operations required to evaluate various expressions by defin- 
+ing the evaluator register machine with the version of the simulator that 
+collects statistics on stack use (Section 5.2.4), and adding an instruction 
+at the evaluator's print-result entry point to print the statistics: 
+
+print-result 
+
+(perform (op print-stack-statistics)) ; added instruction 
+(perform 
+
+(op announce-output) (const ";;; EC-Eval value:")) 
+. . . ; same as before 
+
+
+
+762 
+
+
+
+Interactions with the evaluator now look like this: 
+
+; ; ; EC-Eval input: 
+(define (factorial n) 
+
+(if (= n 1) 1 (* (factorial (- n 1)) n))) 
+(total-pushes = 3 maximum-depth =3) 
+; ; ; EC-Eva I value : 
+ok 
+
+;;; EC-Eval input: 
+(factorial 5) 
+
+(total-pushes = 144 maximum-depth = 28) 
+
+; ; ; EC-Eva I value : 
+
+120 
+
+Note that the driver loop of the evaluator reinitializes the stack at the 
+start of each interaction, so that the statistics printed will refer only to 
+stack operations used to evaluate the previous expression. 
+
+Exercise 5.26: Use the monitored stack to explore the tail- 
+recursive property of the evaluator (Section 5.4.2). Start the 
+evaluator and define the iterative factorial procedure from 
+Section 1.2.1: 
+
+(define (factorial n) 
+
+(define (iter product counter) 
+(if (> counter n) 
+product 
+
+(iter (* counter product) (+ counter 1)))) 
+(iter 1 1)) 
+
+Run the procedure with some small values of n. Record the 
+maximum stack depth and the number of pushes required 
+to compute n\ for each of these values. 
+
+
+
+763 
+
+
+
+a. You will find that the maximum depth required to eval- 
+uate n\ is independent of n. What is that depth? 
+
+b. Determine from your data a formula in terms of n for 
+the total number of push operations used in evaluat- 
+ing n\ for any n > 1. Note that the number of opera- 
+tions used is a linear function of n and is thus deter- 
+mined by two constants. 
+
+Exercise 5.27: For comparison with Exercise 5.26, explore 
+the behavior of the following procedure for computing fac- 
+torials recursively: 
+
+(define (factorial n) 
+
+(if (= n 1) 1 (* (factorial (- n 1)) n))) 
+
+By running this procedure with the monitored stack, deter- 
+mine, as a function of n, the maximum depth of the stack 
+and the total number of pushes used in evaluating n\ for 
+n > 1. (Again, these functions will be linear.) Summarize 
+your experiments by filling in the following table with the 
+appropriate expressions in terms of n: 
+
+
+
+
+
+Maximum depth 
+
+
+Number of pushes 
+
+
+Recursive 
+factorial 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Iterative 
+factorial 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+The maximum depth is a measure of the amount of space 
+used by the evaluator in carrying out the computation, and 
+the number of pushes correlates well with the time required. 
+
+
+
+764 
+
+
+
+Exercise 5.28: Modify the definition of the evaluator by 
+changing eval-sequence as described in Section 5.4.2 so 
+that the evaluator is no longer tail-recursive. Rerun your 
+experiments from Exercise 5.26 and Exercise 5.27 to demon- 
+strate that both versions of the factorial procedure now 
+require space that grows linearly with their input. 
+
+Exercise 5.29: Monitor the stack operations in the tree- 
+recursive Fibonacci computation: 
+
+(define (fib n) 
+(if (< n 2) 
+n 
+
+(+ (fib (- n 1)) (fib (- n 2))))) 
+
+a. Give a formula in terms of n for the maximum depth 
+of the stack required to compute Fib(n) for n > 2. Hint: 
+In Section 1.2.2 we argued that the space used by this 
+process grows linearly with n. 
+
+b. Give a formula for the total number of pushes used 
+to compute Fib(n) for n > 2. You should find that 
+the number of pushes (which correlates well with the 
+time used) grows exponentially with n. Hint: Let S(n) 
+be the number of pushes used in computing Fib(n). 
+You should be able to argue that there is a formula 
+that expresses S(n) in terms of S(n - 1), S(n - 2), and 
+some fixed "overhead" constant k that is independent 
+of n. Give the formula, and say what k is. Then show 
+that S(n) can be expressed as a • Fib(n + 1) + b and give 
+the values of a and b. 
+
+
+
+765 
+
+
+
+Exercise 5.30: Our evaluator currently catches and signals 
+only two kinds of errors— unknown expression types and 
+unknown procedure types. Other errors will take us out of 
+the evaluator read-eval-print loop. When we run the evalu- 
+ator using the register-machine simulator, these errors are 
+caught by the underlying Scheme system. This is analogous 
+to the computer crashing when a user program makes an 
+error. 32 It is a large project to make a real error system 
+work, but it is well worth the effort to understand what 
+is involved here. 
+
+a. Errors that occur in the evaluation process, such as 
+an attempt to access an unbound variable, could be 
+caught by changing the lookup operation to make it 
+return a distinguished condition code, which cannot 
+be a possible value of any user variable. The evaluator 
+can test for this condition code and then do what is 
+necessary to go to signal -error. Find all of the places 
+in the evaluator where such a change is necessary and 
+fix them. This is lots of work. 
+
+b. Much worse is the problem of handling errors that 
+are signaled by applying primitive procedures, such as 
+an attempt to divide by zero or an attempt to extract 
+the car of a symbol. In a professionally written high- 
+quality system, each primitive application is checked 
+for safety as part of the primitive. For example, every 
+
+32 Regrettably, this is the normal state of affairs in conventional compiler- 
+based language systems such as C. In UNix(tm) the system "dumps core," and in 
+DOS/Windows(tm) it becomes catatonic. The Macintosh(tm) displays a picture of an ex- 
+ploding bomb and offers you the opportunity to reboot the computer— if you're lucky. 
+
+
+
+766 
+
+
+
+call to car could first check that the argument is a pair. 
+If the argument is not a pair, the application would 
+return a distinguished condition code to the evalu- 
+ator, which would then report the failure. We could 
+arrange for this in our register-machine simulator by 
+making each primitive procedure check for applicabil- 
+ity and returning an appropriate distinguished condi- 
+tion code on failure. Then the primitive-apply code 
+in the evaluator can check for the condition code and 
+go to signal-error if necessary. Build this structure 
+and make it work. This is a major project. 
+
+5.5 Compilation 
+
+The explicit- control evaluator of Section 5.4 is a register machine whose 
+controller interprets Scheme programs. In this section we will see how 
+to run Scheme programs on a register machine whose controller is not 
+a Scheme interpreter. 
+
+The explicit-control evaluator machine is universal— it can carry out 
+any computational process that can be described in Scheme. The evalu- 
+ator's controller orchestrates the use of its data paths to perform the de- 
+sired computation. Thus, the evaluator's data paths are universal: They 
+are sufficient to perform any computation we desire, given an appro- 
+priate controller. 33 
+
+Commercial general-purpose computers are register machines or- 
+
+33 This is a theoretical statement. We are not claiming that the evaluator's data 
+paths are a particularly convenient or efficient set of data paths for a general-purpose 
+computer. For example, they are not very good for implementing high-performance 
+floating-point calculations or calculations that intensively manipulate bit vectors. 
+
+
+
+767 
+
+
+
+ganized around a collection of registers and operations that constitute 
+an efficient and convenient universal set of data paths. The controller 
+for a general-purpose machine is an interpreter for a register-machine 
+language like the one we have been using. This language is called the 
+native language of the machine, or simply machine language. Programs 
+written in machine language are sequences of instructions that use the 
+machine's data paths. For example, the explicit-control evaluator's in- 
+struction sequence can be thought of as a machine-language program 
+for a general-purpose computer rather than as the controller for a spe- 
+cialized interpreter machine. 
+
+There are two common strategies for bridging the gap between higher- 
+level languages and register-machine languages. The explicit-control 
+evaluator illustrates the strategy of interpretation. An interpreter writ- 
+ten in the native language of a machine configures the machine to exe- 
+cute programs written in a language (called the source language) that 
+may differ from the native language of the machine performing the 
+evaluation. The primitive procedures of the source language are imple- 
+mented as a library of subroutines written in the native language of the 
+given machine. A program to be interpreted (called the source program) 
+is represented as a data structure. The interpreter traverses this data 
+structure, analyzing the source program. As it does so, it simulates the 
+intended behavior of the source program by calling appropriate primi- 
+tive subroutines from the library. 
+
+In this section, we explore the alternative strategy of compilation. A 
+compiler for a given source language and machine translates a source 
+program into an equivalent program (called the object program) written 
+in the machine's native language. The compiler that we implement in 
+this section translates programs written in Scheme into sequences of in- 
+structions to be executed using the explicit-control evaluator machine's 
+
+
+
+768 
+
+
+
+data paths. 34 
+
+Compared with interpretation, compilation can provide a great in- 
+crease in the efficiency of program execution, as we will explain be- 
+low in the overview of the compiler. On the other hand, an interpreter 
+provides a more powerful environment for interactive program devel- 
+opment and debugging, because the source program being executed is 
+available at run time to be examined and modified. In addition, because 
+the entire library of primitives is present, new programs can be con- 
+structed and added to the system during debugging. 
+
+In view of the complementary advantages of compilation and inter- 
+pretation, modern program-development environments pursue a mixed 
+strategy. Lisp interpreters are generally organized so that interpreted 
+procedures and compiled procedures can call each other. This enables 
+a programmer to compile those parts of a program that are assumed 
+to be debugged, thus gaining the efficiency advantage of compilation, 
+while retaining the interpretive mode of execution for those parts of 
+the program that are in the flux of interactive development and debug- 
+ging. In Section 5.5.7, after we have implemented the compiler, we will 
+show how to interface it with our interpreter to produce an integrated 
+interpreter-compiler development system. 
+
+
+
+Actually, the machine that runs compiled code can be simpler than the interpreter 
+machine, because we won't use the exp and unev registers. The interpreter used these to 
+hold pieces of unevaluated expressions. With the compiler, however, these expressions 
+get built into the compiled code that the register machine will run. For the same reason, 
+we don't need the machine operations that deal with expression syntax. But compiled 
+code will use a few additional machine operations (to represent compiled procedure 
+objects) that didn't appear in the explicit-control evaluator machine. 
+
+
+
+769 
+
+
+
+An overview of the compiler 
+
+Our compiler is much like our interpreter, both in its structure and in 
+the function it performs. Accordingly, the mechanisms used by the com- 
+piler for analyzing expressions will be similar to those used by the inter- 
+preter. Moreover, to make it easy to interface compiled and interpreted 
+code, we will design the compiler to generate code that obeys the same 
+conventions of register usage as the interpreter: The environment will 
+be kept in the env register, argument lists will be accumulated in argl, a 
+procedure to be applied will be in proc, procedures will return their an- 
+swers in val, and the location to which a procedure should return will 
+be kept in continue. In general, the compiler translates a source pro- 
+gram into an object program that performs essentially the same register 
+operations as would the interpreter in evaluating the same source pro- 
+gram. 
+
+This description suggests a strategy for implementing a rudimen- 
+tary compiler: We traverse the expression in the same way the inter- 
+preter does. When we encounter a register instruction that the inter- 
+preter would perform in evaluating the expression, we do not execute 
+the instruction but instead accumulate it into a sequence. The resulting 
+sequence of instructions will be the object code. Observe the efficiency 
+advantage of compilation over interpretation. Each time the interpreter 
+evaluates an expression— for example, (f 84 96)— it performs the work 
+of classifying the expression (discovering that this is a procedure ap- 
+plication) and testing for the end of the operand list (discovering that 
+there are two operands). With a compiler, the expression is analyzed 
+only once, when the instruction sequence is generated at compile time. 
+The object code produced by the compiler contains only the instructions 
+that evaluate the operator and the two operands, assemble the argument 
+list, and apply the procedure (in proc) to the arguments (in argl). 
+
+
+
+770 
+
+
+
+This is the same kind of optimization we implemented in the ana- 
+lyzing evaluator of Section 4.1.7. But there are further opportunities to 
+gain efficiency in compiled code. As the interpreter runs, it follows a 
+process that must be applicable to any expression in the language. In 
+contrast, a given segment of compiled code is meant to execute some 
+particular expression. This can make a big difference, for example in 
+the use of the stack to save registers. When the interpreter evaluates an 
+expression, it must be prepared for any contingency. Before evaluating 
+a subexpression, the interpreter saves all registers that will be needed 
+later, because the subexpression might require an arbitrary evaluation. 
+A compiler, on the other hand, can exploit the structure of the particu- 
+lar expression it is processing to generate code that avoids unnecessary 
+stack operations. 
+
+As a case in point, consider the combination (f 84 96). Before the 
+interpreter evaluates the operator of the combination, it prepares for 
+this evaluation by saving the registers containing the operands and the 
+environment, whose values will be needed later. The interpreter then 
+evaluates the operator to obtain the result in val, restores the saved reg- 
+isters, and finally moves the result from val to proc. However, in the 
+particular expression we are dealing with, the operator is the symbol f , 
+whose evaluation is accomplished by the machine operation lookup- 
+variable-value, which does not alter any registers. The compiler that 
+we implement in this section will take advantage of this fact and gen- 
+erate code that evaluates the operator using the instruction 
+
+(assign proc (op lookup-variable-value) 
+(const f) 
+(reg env)) 
+
+This code not only avoids the unnecessary saves and restores but also 
+assigns the value of the lookup directly to proc, whereas the interpreter 
+
+
+
+771 
+
+
+
+would obtain the result in val and then move this to proc. 
+
+A compiler can also optimize access to the environment. Having an- 
+alyzed the code, the compiler can in many cases know in which frame a 
+particular variable will be located and access that frame directly, rather 
+than performing the lookup-variable-value search. We will discuss 
+how to implement such variable access in Section 5.5.6. Until then, how- 
+ever, we will focus on the kind of register and stack optimizations de- 
+scribed above. There are many other optimizations that can be per- 
+formed by a compiler, such as coding primitive operations "in line" in- 
+stead of using a general apply mechanism (see Exercise 5.38); but we 
+will not emphasize these here. Our main goal in this section is to illus- 
+trate the compilation process in a simplified (but still interesting) con- 
+text. 
+
+5.5.1 Structure of the Compiler 
+
+In Section 4.1.7 we modified our original metacircular interpreter to sep- 
+arate analysis from execution. We analyzed each expression to produce 
+an execution procedure that took an environment as argument and per- 
+formed the required operations. In our compiler, we will do essentially 
+the same analysis. Instead of producing execution procedures, however, 
+we will generate sequences of instructions to be run by our register ma- 
+chine. 
+
+The procedure compile is the top-level dispatch in the compiler. It 
+corresponds to the eval procedure of Section 4.1.1, the analyze proce- 
+dure of Section 4.1.7, and the eval-dispatch entry point ofthe explicit- 
+control-evaluator in Section 5.4.1. The compiler, like the interpreters, 
+uses the expression-syntax procedures defined in Section 4. 1.2. 35 Compile 
+
+35 Notice, however, that our compiler is a Scheme program, and the syntax procedures 
+that it uses to manipulate expressions are the actual Scheme procedures used with the 
+
+
+
+772 
+
+
+
+performs a case analysis on the syntactic type of the expression to be 
+compiled. For each type of expression, it dispatches to a specialized code 
+generator: 
+
+(define (compile exp target linkage) 
+(cond ((self-evaluating? exp) 
+
+(compile-self-evaluating exp target linkage)) 
+((quoted? exp) (compile-quoted exp target linkage)) 
+((variable? exp) 
+
+(compile-variable exp target linkage)) 
+((assignment? exp) 
+
+(compile-assignment exp target linkage)) 
+((definition? exp) 
+
+(compile-def inition exp target linkage)) 
+((if? exp) (compile-if exp target linkage)) 
+((lambda? exp) (compile-lambda exp target linkage)) 
+((begin? exp) 
+
+(compile-sequence 
+(begin-actions exp) target linkage)) 
+((cond? exp) 
+
+(compile (cond->if exp) target linkage)) 
+((application? exp) 
+
+(compile-application exp target linkage)) 
+(else 
+
+(error "Unknown expression type: COMPILE" exp)))) 
+
+
+
+metacircular evaluator. For the explicit-control evaluator, in contrast, we assumed that 
+equivalent syntax operations were available as operations for the register machine. (Of 
+course, when we simulated the register machine in Scheme, we used the actual Scheme 
+procedures in our register machine simulation.) 
+
+
+
+773 
+
+
+
+Targets and linkages 
+
+Compile and the code generators that it calls take two arguments in 
+addition to the expression to compile. There is a target, which specifies 
+the register in which the compiled code is to return the value of the 
+expression. There is also a linkage descriptor, which describes how the 
+code resulting from the compilation of the expression should proceed 
+when it has finished its execution. The linkage descriptor can require 
+that the code do one of the following three things: 
+
+• continue at the next instruction in sequence (this is specified by 
+the linkage descriptor next), 
+
+• return from the procedure being compiled (this is specified by the 
+linkage descriptor return), or 
+
+• jump to a named entry point (this is specified by using the desig- 
+nated label as the linkage descriptor). 
+
+For example, compiling the expression 5 (which is self-evaluating) with 
+a target of the val register and a linkage of next should produce the 
+instruction 
+
+(assign val (const 5)) 
+
+Compiling the same expression with a linkage of return should pro- 
+duce the instructions 
+
+(assign val (const 5)) 
+(goto (reg continue)) 
+
+In the first case, execution will continue with the next instruction in the 
+sequence. In the second case, we will return from a procedure call. In 
+both cases, the value of the expression will be placed into the target val 
+register. 
+
+
+
+774 
+
+
+
+Instruction sequences and stack usage 
+
+Each code generator returns an instruction sequence containing the ob- 
+ject code it has generated for the expression. Code generation for a com- 
+pound expression is accomplished by combining the output from sim- 
+pler code generators for component expressions, just as evaluation of 
+a compound expression is accomplished by evaluating the component 
+expressions. 
+
+The simplest method for combining instruction sequences is a pro- 
+cedure called append-instruction-sequences. It takes as arguments 
+any number of instruction sequences that are to be executed sequen- 
+tially; it appends them and returns the combined sequence. That is, if 
+(seqx) and (seq 2 ) are sequences of instructions, then evaluating 
+
+(append-instruction-sequences (seqi) (seq 2 )) 
+produces the sequence 
+
+(seqt) 
+(seq 2 ) 
+
+Whenever registers might need to be saved, the compiler's code gen- 
+erators use preserving, which is a more subtle method for combining 
+instruction sequences. Preserving takes three arguments: a set of regis- 
+ters and two instruction sequences that are to be executed sequentially. 
+It appends the sequences in such a way that the contents of each reg- 
+ister in the set is preserved over the execution of the first sequence, if 
+this is needed for the execution of the second sequence. That is, if the 
+first sequence modifies the register and the second sequence actually 
+needs the register's original contents, then preserving wraps a save 
+and a restore of the register around the first sequence before append- 
+ing the sequences. Otherwise, preserving simply returns the appended 
+instruction sequences. Thus, for example, 
+
+
+
+775 
+
+
+
+(preserving (list (regi) (reg 2 )) (segi) (seg 2 )) 
+
+produces one of the following four sequences of instructions, de- 
+pending on how (seqi) and (seq 2 ) use (regi) and (reg 2 ): 
+
+
+
+By using preserving to combine instruction sequences the compiler 
+avoids unnecessary stack operations. This also isolates the details of 
+whether or not to generate save and restore instructions within the 
+preserving procedure, separating them from the concerns that arise 
+in writing each of the individual code generators. In fact no save or 
+restore instructions are explicitly produced by the code generators. 
+
+In principle, we could represent an instruction sequence simply as 
+alist of instructions. Append-instruction-sequences could then com- 
+bine instruction sequences by performing an ordinary list append. How- 
+ever, preserving would then be a complex operation, because it would 
+have to analyze each instruction sequence to determine how the se- 
+quence uses its registers. Preserving would be inefficient as well as 
+complex, because it would have to analyze each of its instruction se- 
+quence arguments, even though these sequences might themselves have 
+been constructed by calls to preserving, in which case their parts would 
+have already been analyzed. To avoid such repetitious analysis we will 
+associate with each instruction sequence some information about its 
+register use. When we construct a basic instruction sequence we will 
+provide this information explicitly, and the procedures that combine 
+
+
+
+(seqi) 
+(seq 2 ) 
+
+
+
+(save (regi)) 
+(seqi) 
+
+(restore (regi)) 
+(seq 2 ) 
+
+
+
+(save (reg 2 )) 
+(seqi) 
+
+(restore (reg 2 )) 
+(seq 2 ) 
+
+
+
+(save (reg 2 )) 
+(save (reg{)) 
+(seqi) 
+
+(restore (regi)) 
+(restore (reg 2 )) 
+(seq 2 ) 
+
+
+
+776 
+
+
+
+instruction sequences will derive register-use information for the com- 
+bined sequence from the information associated with the component 
+sequences. 
+
+An instruction sequence will contain three pieces of information: 
+
+• the set of registers that must be initialized before the instructions 
+in the sequence are executed (these registers are said to be needed 
+by the sequence), 
+
+• the set of registers whose values are modified by the instructions 
+in the sequence, and 
+
+• the actual instructions (also called statements) in the sequence. 
+
+We will represent an instruction sequence as a list of its three parts. The 
+constructor for instruction sequences is thus 
+
+(define (make- instruct ion-sequence 
+needs modifies statements) 
+(list needs modifies statements)) 
+
+For example, the two-instruction sequence that looks up the value of the 
+variable x in the current environment, assigns the result to val, and then 
+returns, requires registers env and continue to have been initialized, 
+and modifies register val. This sequence would therefore be constructed 
+as 
+
+(make- instruct ion-sequence 
+1 (env continue) 
+'(val) 
+
+' ((assign val 
+
+(op lookup-variable-value) (const x) (reg env)) 
+(goto (reg continue)))) 
+
+
+
+777 
+
+
+
+We sometimes need to construct an instruction sequence with no state- 
+ments: 
+
+(define (empty- instruct ion-sequence) 
+
+(make-instruction-sequence ' () ' () '())) 
+
+The procedures for combining instruction sequences are shown in Sec- 
+tion 5.5.4. 
+
+Exercise 5.3T: In evaluating a procedure application, the 
+explicit-control evaluator always saves and restores the env 
+register around the evaluation of the operator, saves and 
+restores env around the evaluation of each operand (except 
+the final one), saves and restores argl around the evalua- 
+tion of each operand, and saves and restores proc around 
+the evaluation of the operand sequence. For each of the fol- 
+lowing combinations, say which of these save and restore 
+operations are superfluous and thus could be eliminated by 
+the compiler's preserving mechanism: 
+
+(f 'x 'y) 
+((f) 'x 'y) 
+(f (g 'x) y) 
+(f (g 'x) 'y) 
+
+Exercise 5.32: Using the preserving mechanism, the com- 
+piler will avoid saving and restoring env around the evalua- 
+tion of the operator of a combination in the case where the 
+operator is a symbol. We could also build such optimiza- 
+tions into the evaluator. Indeed, the explicit- control eval- 
+uator of Section 5.4 already performs a similar optimiza- 
+tion, by treating combinations with no operands as a spe- 
+cial case. 
+
+
+
+778 
+
+
+
+a. Extend the explicit-control evaluator to recognize as 
+a separate class of expressions combinations whose 
+operator is a symbol, and to take advantage of this 
+fact in evaluating such expressions. 
+
+b. Alyssa P. Hacker suggests that by extending the eval- 
+uator to recognize more and more special cases we 
+could incorporate all the compiler's optimizations, and 
+that this would eliminate the advantage of compila- 
+tion altogether. What do you think of this idea? 
+
+5.5.2 Compiling Expressions 
+
+In this section and the next we implement the code generators to which 
+the compile procedure dispatches. 
+
+Compiling linkage code 
+
+In general, the output of each code generator will end with instructions- 
+generated by the procedure compile-linkage— that implement the re- 
+quired linkage. If the linkage is return then we must generate the in- 
+struction (goto (reg continue)). This needs the continue register 
+and does not modify any registers. If the linkage is next, then we needn't 
+include any additional instructions. Otherwise, the linkage is a label, 
+and we generate a goto to that label, an instruction that does not need 
+or modify any registers. 36 
+
+36 This procedure uses a feature of Lisp called backquote (or quasiquote) that is handy 
+for constructing lists. Preceding a list with a backquote symbol is much like quoting it, 
+except that anything in the list that is flagged with a comma is evaluated. 
+
+For example, if the value of linkage is the symbol branch25, then the expression 
+
+'((goto (label .linkage))) 
+
+
+
+779 
+
+
+
+(define (compile-linkage linkage) 
+(cond ((eq? linkage 'return) 
+
+(make-instruction-sequence ' (continue) ' () 
+'((goto (reg continue))))) 
+((eq? linkage 'next) 
+
+(empty- instruct ion-sequence)) 
+(else 
+
+(make-instruction-sequence '() ' () 
+4 ((goto (label .linkage))))))) 
+
+The linkage code is appended to an instruction sequence by preserving 
+the continue register, since a return linkage will require the continue 
+register: If the given instruction sequence modifies continue and the 
+linkage code needs it, continue will be saved and restored. 
+
+(define (end-with-linkage linkage instruction-sequence) 
+(preserving '(continue) 
+instruction-sequence 
+(compile-linkage linkage))) 
+
+Compiling simple expressions 
+
+The code generators for self-evaluating expressions, quotations, and vari- 
+ables construct instruction sequences that assign the required value to 
+
+evaluates to the list 
+
+((goto (label branch25))) 
+
+Similarly, if the value of x is the list (a b c), then 
+
+>(1 2 ,(car x)) 
+
+evaluates to the list 
+
+(1 2 a). 
+
+
+
+780 
+
+
+
+the target register and then proceed as specified by the linkage descrip- 
+tor. 
+
+(define (compile-self-evaluating exp target linkage) 
+(end-with-linkage linkage 
+(make-instruction-sequence '() (list target) 
+* ((assign , target (const ,exp)))))) 
+(define (compile-quoted exp target linkage) 
+(end-with-linkage linkage 
+(make-instruction-sequence '() (list target) 
+v ((assign , target (const , (text-of-quotation exp))))))) 
+(define (compile-variable exp target linkage) 
+(end-with-linkage linkage 
+(make-instruction-sequence ' (env) (list target) 
+* ( (assign , target 
+
+(op lookup-variable-value) 
+(const ,exp) 
+(reg env)))))) 
+
+All these assignment instructions modify the target register, and the one 
+that looks up a variable needs the env register. 
+
+Assignments and definitions are handled much as they are in the 
+interpreter. We recursively generate code that computes the value to be 
+assigned to the variable, and append to it a two-instruction sequence 
+that actually sets or defines the variable and assigns the value of the 
+whole expression (the symbol ok) to the target register. The recursive 
+compilation has target val and linkage next so that the code will put 
+its result into val and continue with the code that is appended after it. 
+The appending is done preserving env, since the environment is needed 
+for setting or defining the variable and the code for the variable value 
+could be the compilation of a complex expression that might modify the 
+registers in arbitrary ways. 
+
+
+
+781 
+
+
+
+(define (compile-assignment exp target linkage) 
+(let ((var (assignment-variable exp)) 
+(get-value-code 
+(compile (assignment-value exp) 'val 'next))) 
+(end-with-linkage linkage 
+(preserving ' (env) 
+get-value-code 
+
+(make-instruction-sequence '(env val) (list target) 
+v ((perform (op set-variable-value!) 
+(const ,var) 
+(reg val) 
+(reg env)) 
+(assign , target (const ok)))))))) 
+(define (compile-def inition exp target linkage) 
+(let ((var (definition-variable exp)) 
+(get-value-code 
+(compile (definition-value exp) 'val 'next))) 
+(end-with-linkage linkage 
+(preserving ' (env) 
+get-value-code 
+
+(make-instruction-sequence '(env val) (list target) 
+( ((perform (op def ine-variable ! ) 
+(const ,var) 
+(reg val) 
+(reg env)) 
+(assign , target (const ok)))))))) 
+
+The appended two-instruction sequence requires env and val and mod- 
+ifies the target. Note that although we preserve env for this sequence, 
+we do not preserve val, because the get-value-code is designed to ex- 
+plicitly place its result in val for use by this sequence. (In fact, if we 
+did preserve val, we would have a bug, because this would cause the 
+previous contents of val to be restored right after the get-value-code 
+is run.) 
+
+782 
+
+
+
+Compiling conditional expressions 
+
+The code for an if expression compiled with a given target and linkage 
+has the form 
+
+(compilation of predicate, target val, linkage next) 
+
+(test (op false?) (reg val)) 
+
+(branch (label false-branch)) 
+true-branch 
+
+{compilation of consequent with given target 
+and given linkage or after-if) 
+false-branch 
+
+(compilation of alternative with given target and linkage) 
+after-if 
+
+To generate this code, we compile the predicate, consequent, and al- 
+ternative, and combine the resulting code with instructions to test the 
+predicate result and with newly generated labels to mark the true and 
+false branches and the end of the conditional. 37 In this arrangement of 
+
+37 We can't just use the labels true-branch, false-branch, and after-if as shown 
+above, because there might be more than one if in the program. The compiler uses the 
+procedure make-label to generate labels. Make-label takes a symbol as argument and 
+returns a new symbol that begins with the given symbol. For example, successive calls 
+to (make-label 'a) would return a1, a2, and so on. Make-label can be implemented 
+similarly to the generation of unique variable names in the query language, as follows: 
+
+(define label-counter 0) 
+(define (new-label-number) 
+
+(set! label-counter (+ 1 label-counter)) 
+label-counter) 
+(define (make-label name) 
+(string->symbol 
+
+(string-append (symbol->string name) 
+
+(number->string (new-label-number))))) 
+
+
+
+783 
+
+
+
+code, we must branch around the true branch if the test is false. The only 
+slight complication is in how the linkage for the true branch should be 
+handled. If the linkage for the conditional is return or a label, then the 
+true and false branches will both use this same linkage. If the linkage 
+is next, the true branch ends with a jump around the code for the false 
+branch to the label at the end of the conditional. 
+
+(define (compile-if exp target linkage) 
+(let ((t-branch (make-label 'true-branch)) 
+(f-branch (make-label 'false-branch)) 
+(after-if (make-label 'after-if))) 
+(let ((consequent-linkage 
+
+(if (eq? linkage 'next) after-if linkage))) 
+(let ((p-code (compile (if-predicate exp) 'val 'next)) 
+(c-code 
+(compile 
+(if-consequent exp) target 
+
+consequent-linkage) ) 
+
+(a-code 
+
+(compile (if-alternative exp) target linkage))) 
+(preserving ' (env continue) 
+p-code 
+
+(append- instruct ion-sequences 
+(make-instruction-sequence '(val) '() 
+* ((test (op false?) (reg val)) 
+(branch (label , f-branch)))) 
+(parallel- instruct ion-sequences 
+(append-instruction-sequences t-branch c-code) 
+(append-instruction-sequences f-branch a-code)) 
+after-if)))))) 
+
+Env is preserved around the predicate code because it could be needed 
+by the true and false branches, and continue is preserved because it 
+
+
+
+784 
+
+
+
+could be needed by the linkage code in those branches. The code for 
+the true and false branches (which are not executed sequentially) is 
+appended using a special combiner parallel-instruction-sequences 
+described in Section 5.5.4. 
+
+Note that cond is a derived expression, so all that the compiler needs 
+to do handle it is to apply the cond->if transformer (from Section 4.1.2) 
+and compile the resulting if expression. 
+
+Compiling sequences 
+
+The compilation of sequences (from procedure bodies or explicit begin 
+expressions) parallels their evaluation. Each expression of the sequence 
+is compiled— the last expression with the linkage specified for the se- 
+quence, and the other expressions with linkage next (to execute the 
+rest of the sequence). The instruction sequences for the individual ex- 
+pressions are appended to form a single instruction sequence, such that 
+env (needed for the rest of the sequence) and continue (possibly needed 
+for the linkage at the end of the sequence) are preserved. 
+
+(define (compile-sequence seq target linkage) 
+(if (last-exp? seq) 
+
+(compile (first-exp seq) target linkage) 
+(preserving 
+' (env continue) 
+
+(compile (first-exp seq) target 'next) 
+(compile-sequence (rest-exps seq) target linkage)))) 
+
+Compiling lambda expressions 
+
+Lambda expressions construct procedures. The object code for a lambda 
+expression must have the form 
+
+
+
+785 
+
+
+
+(construct procedure object and assign it to target register) 
+{ I inkage) 
+
+When we compile the lambda expression, we also generate the code for 
+the procedure body. Although the body won't be executed at the time 
+of procedure construction, it is convenient to insert it into the object 
+code right after the code for the lambda. If the linkage for the lambda 
+expression is a label or return, this is fine. But if the linkage is next, 
+we will need to skip around the code for the procedure body by using a 
+linkage that jumps to a label that is inserted after the body. The object 
+code thus has the form 
+
+{construct procedure object and assign it to target register) 
+{code for given linkage) or (goto (label after-lambda)) 
+{compilation of procedure body) 
+
+after-lambda 
+
+Compile-lambda generates the code for constructing the procedure ob- 
+ject followed by the code for the procedure body. The procedure object 
+will be constructed at run time by combining the current environment 
+(the environment at the point of definition) with the entry point to the 
+compiled procedure body (a newly generated label). 38 
+
+38 We need machine operations to implement a data structure for representing com- 
+piled procedures, analogous to the structure for compound procedures described in 
+Section 4.1.3: 
+
+(define (make-compiled-procedure entry env) 
+
+(list ' compiled-procedure entry env)) 
+(define (compiled-procedure? proc) 
+
+(tagged-list? proc 'compiled-procedure)) 
+(define (compiled-procedure-entry c-proc) (cadr c-proc)) 
+(define (compiled-procedure-env c-proc) (caddr c-proc)) 
+
+
+
+786 
+
+
+
+(define (compile-lambda exp target linkage) 
+(let ((proc-entry (make-label 'entry)) 
+
+(after-lambda (make-label 'after-lambda))) 
+(let ((lambda-linkage 
+
+(if (eq? linkage 'next) after-lambda linkage))) 
+(append- instruct ion-sequences 
+(tack-on- instruct ion-sequence 
+(end-with-linkage lambda-linkage 
+(make-instruction-sequence ' (env) (list target) 
+* ((assign , target 
+
+(op make-compiled-procedure) 
+(label , proc-entry) 
+(reg env))))) 
+(compile-lambda-body exp proc-entry)) 
+after-lambda)))) 
+
+Compile-lambda uses the special combiner tack-on-instruction-sequence 
+rather than append-instruction-sequences (Section 5.5.4) to append 
+the procedure body to the lambda expression code, because the body is 
+not part of the sequence of instructions that will be executed when the 
+combined sequence is entered; rather, it is in the sequence only because 
+that was a convenient place to put it. 
+
+Compile-lambda-body constructs the code for the body of the pro- 
+cedure. This code begins with a label for the entry point. Next come in- 
+structions that will cause the run-time evaluation environment to switch 
+to the correct environment for evaluating the procedure body— namely, 
+the definition environment of the procedure, extended to include the 
+bindings of the formal parameters to the arguments with which the 
+procedure is called. After this comes the code for the sequence of ex- 
+pressions that makes up the procedure body. The sequence is compiled 
+with linkage return and target val so that it will end by returning from 
+the procedure with the procedure result in val. 
+
+
+
+787 
+
+
+
+(define (compile-lambda-body exp proc-entry) 
+(let ((formals (lambda-parameters exp))) 
+(append- instruct ion-sequences 
+(make-instruction-sequence ' (env proc argl) ' (env) 
+( ( , proc-entry 
+(assign env 
+
+(op compiled-procedure-env) 
+(reg proc)) 
+(assign env 
+
+(op extend-environment) 
+(const , formals) 
+(reg argl) 
+(reg env)))) 
+
+(compile-sequence (lambda-body exp) 'val 'return)))) 
+
+
+
+5.5.3 Compiling Combinations 
+
+The essence of the compilation process is the compilation of procedure 
+applications. The code for a combination compiled with a given target 
+and linkage has the form 
+
+{compilation of operator, target proc, linkage next) 
+(evaluate operands and construct argument list in argl) 
+(compilation of procedure call with given target and linkage) 
+
+The registers env, proc, and argl may have to be saved and restored 
+during evaluation of the operator and operands. Note that this is the 
+only place in the compiler where a target other than val is specified. 
+
+The required code is generated by compile-application. This re- 
+cursively compiles the operator, to produce code that puts the procedure 
+to be applied into proc, and compiles the operands, to produce code that 
+evaluates the individual operands of the application. The instruction se- 
+quences for the operands are combined (by construct-arglist) with 
+
+
+
+788 
+
+
+
+code that constructs the list of arguments in argl, and the resulting 
+argument-list code is combined with the procedure code and the code 
+that performs the procedure call (produced by compile-procedure- 
+call). In appending the code sequences, the env register must be pre- 
+served around the evaluation of the operator (since evaluating the oper- 
+ator might modify env, which will be needed to evaluate the operands), 
+and the proc register must be preserved around the construction of the 
+argument list (since evaluating the operands might modify proc, which 
+will be needed for the actual procedure application). Continue must also 
+be preserved throughout, since it is needed for the linkage in the pro- 
+cedure call. 
+
+(define (compile-application exp target linkage) 
+
+(let ((proc-code (compile (operator exp) 'proc 'next)) 
+(operand-codes 
+(map (lambda 
+
+(operand) (compile operand 'val 'next)) 
+(operands exp)))) 
+(preserving '(env continue) 
+proc-code 
+
+(preserving '(proc continue) 
+( const ruct-argli st operand-codes) 
+(compile-procedure-call target linkage))))) 
+
+The code to construct the argument list will evaluate each operand into 
+val and then cons that value onto the argument list being accumulated 
+in argl. Since we cons the arguments onto argl in sequence, we must 
+start with the last argument and end with the first, so that the arguments 
+will appear in order from first to last in the resulting list. Rather than 
+waste an instruction by initializing argl to the empty list to set up for 
+this sequence of evaluations, we make the first code sequence construct 
+the initial argl. The general form of the argument-list construction is 
+
+
+
+789 
+
+
+
+thus as follows: 
+
+
+
+{compilation of last operand, targeted to val) 
+(assign argl (op list) (reg val)) 
+(compilation of next operand, targeted to val) 
+(assign argl (op cons) (reg val) (reg argl)) 
+
+{compilation of first operand, targeted to val) 
+(assign argl (op cons) (reg val) (reg argl)) 
+
+Argl must be preserved around each operand evaluation except the first 
+(so that arguments accumulated so far won't be lost), and env must be 
+preserved around each operand evaluation except the last (for use by 
+subsequent operand evaluations). 
+
+Compiling this argument code is a bit tricky, because of the special 
+treatment of the first operand to be evaluated and the need to preserve 
+argl and env in different places. The construct-arglist procedure 
+takes as arguments the code that evaluates the individual operands. If 
+there are no operands at all, it simply emits the instruction 
+
+(assign argl (const ())) 
+
+Otherwise, construct-arglist creates code that initializes argl with 
+the last argument, and appends code that evaluates the rest of the argu- 
+ments and adjoins them to argl in succession. In order to process the 
+arguments from last to first, we must reverse the list of operand code 
+sequences from the order supplied by compile-application. 
+
+(define (construct-arglist operand-codes) 
+
+(let ((operand-codes (reverse operand-codes))) 
+(if (null? operand-codes) 
+
+(make-instruction-sequence '() '(argl) 
+
+'((assign argl (const ())))) 
+(let ( (code-to-get-last-arg 
+
+
+
+790 
+
+
+
+(append- instruct ion-sequences 
+(car operand-codes) 
+
+(make-instruction-sequence '(val) '(argl) 
+'((assign argl (op list) (reg val))))))) 
+(if (null? (cdr operand-codes)) 
+code-to-get-last-arg 
+(preserving '(env) 
+code-to-get-last-arg 
+(code-to-get- res t-args 
+(cdr operand-codes)))))))) 
+
+(define (code-to-get-rest-args operand-codes) 
+(let ((code-for-next-arg 
+(preserving ' (argl) 
+(car operand-codes) 
+
+(make-instruction-sequence '(val argl) '(argl) 
+' ((assign argl 
+
+(op cons) (reg val) (reg argl))))))) 
+(if (null? (cdr operand-codes)) 
+code-for-next-arg 
+(preserving ' (env) 
+code-for-next-arg 
+
+(code-to-get-rest-args (cdr operand-codes)))))) 
+Applying procedures 
+
+After evaluating the elements of a combination, the compiled code must 
+apply the procedure in proc to the arguments in argl. The code per- 
+forms essentially the same dispatch as the apply procedure in the metacir- 
+cular evaluator of Section 4.1.1 or the apply-dispatch entry point in 
+the explicit- control evaluator of Section 5.4.1. It checks whether the 
+procedure to be applied is a primitive procedure or a compiled proce- 
+
+
+
+791 
+
+
+
+dure. For a primitive procedure, it uses apply-primitive-procedure; 
+we will see shortly how it handles compiled procedures. The procedure- 
+application code has the following form: 
+
+(test (op primitive-procedure?) (reg proc)) 
+
+(branch (label primitive-branch)) 
+compiled-branch 
+(code to apply compiled procedure with given target 
+and appropriate linkage) 
+primitive-branch 
+(assign (target) 
+
+(op apply-primitive-procedure) 
+(reg proc) 
+(reg argl)) 
+( Z inkage) 
+after-call 
+
+Observe that the compiled branch must skip around the primitive branch. 
+Therefore, if the linkage for the original procedure call was next, the 
+compound branch must use a linkage that jumps to a label that is in- 
+serted after the primitive branch. (This is similar to the linkage used for 
+the true branch in compile-if.) 
+
+(define (compile-procedure-call target linkage) 
+
+(let ((primitive-branch (make-label 'primitive-branch)) 
+(compiled-branch (make-label 'compiled-branch)) 
+(after-call (make-label 'after-call))) 
+
+
+
+(let ( (compiled-linkage 
+
+(if (eq? linkage 'next) after-call linkage))) 
+(append- instruct ion-sequences 
+(make-instruction-sequence '(proc) '() 
+*((test (op primitive-procedure?) (reg proc)) 
+(branch (label .primitive-branch)))) 
+
+
+
+792 
+
+
+
+(parallel- instruct ion-sequences 
+(append- instruct ion-sequences 
+compiled-branch 
+
+(compile-proc-appl target compiled-linkage)) 
+(append- instruct ion-sequences 
+primitive-branch 
+(end-with-linkage linkage 
+(make-instruction-sequence ' (proc argl) 
+
+(list target) 
+
+* ((assign , target 
+
+(op apply-primitive-procedure) 
+
+(reg proc) 
+
+(reg argl))))))) 
+
+after-call)))) 
+
+The primitive and compound branches, like the true and false branches 
+in compile-if, are appendedusing parallel-instruction-sequences 
+rather than the ordinary append- instruct ion-sequences, because they 
+will not be executed sequentially. 
+
+Applying compiled procedures 
+
+The code that handles procedure application is the most subtle part of 
+the compiler, even though the instruction sequences it generates are 
+very short. A compiled procedure (as constructed by compile-lambda) 
+has an entry point, which is a label that designates where the code for 
+the procedure starts. The code at this entry point computes a result in 
+val and returns by executing the instruction (goto (reg continue)). 
+Thus, we might expect the code for a compiled-procedure application (to 
+be generated by compile-proc-appl) with a given target and linkage to 
+look like this if the linkage is a label 
+
+(assign continue (label proc-return)) 
+
+
+
+793 
+
+
+
+(assign val (op compiled-procedure-entry) (reg proc)) 
+(goto (reg val)) 
+proc-return 
+
+(assign (target) (reg val)) ; included if target is not val 
+(goto (label {linkage})) ; linkage code 
+
+or like this if the linkage is return. 
+
+(save continue) 
+(assign continue (label proc-return)) 
+(assign val (op compiled-procedure-entry) (reg proc)) 
+(goto (reg val)) 
+
+proc-return 
+
+(assign (target) (reg val)) ; included if target is not val 
+(restore continue) 
+
+(goto (reg continue)) ; linkage code 
+
+This code sets up continue so that the procedure will return to a la- 
+bel proc-return and jumps to the procedure's entry point. The code 
+at proc-return transfers the procedure's result from val to the tar- 
+get register (if necessary) and then jumps to the location specified by 
+the linkage. (The linkage is always return or a label, because compile- 
+procedure-call replaces a next linkage for the compound-procedure 
+branch by an after-call label.) 
+
+In fact, if the target is not val, that is exactly the code our compiler 
+will generate. 39 Usually, however, the target is val (the only time the 
+compiler specifies a different register is when targeting the evaluation 
+of an operator to proc), so the procedure result is put directly into the 
+target register and there is no need to return to a special location that 
+copies it. Instead, we simplify the code by setting up continue so that 
+
+39 Actually, we signal an error when the target is not val and the linkage is return, 
+since the only place we request return linkages is in compiling procedures, and our 
+convention is that procedures return their values in val. 
+
+
+
+794 
+
+
+
+the procedure will "return" directly to the place specified by the caller's 
+linkage: 
+
+(set up continue for linkage) 
+
+(assign val (op compiled-procedure-entry) (reg proc)) 
+(goto (reg val)) 
+
+If the linkage is a label, we set up continue so that the procedure will 
+return to that label. (That is, the (goto (reg continue)) the procedure 
+ends with becomes equivalent to the (goto (label (linkage))) at 
+proc-return above.) 
+
+(assign continue (label (linkage))) 
+
+(assign val (op compiled-procedure-entry) (reg proc)) 
+(goto (reg val)) 
+
+If the linkage is return, we don't need to set up continue at all: It al- 
+ready holds the desired location. (That is, the (goto (reg continue)) 
+the procedure ends with goes directly to the place where the (goto (reg 
+continue)) at proc-return would have gone.) 
+
+(assign val (op compiled-procedure-entry) (reg proc)) 
+(goto (reg val)) 
+
+With this implementation of the return linkage, the compiler generates 
+tail-recursive code. Calling a procedure as the final step in a procedure 
+body does a direct transfer, without saving any information on the stack. 
+
+Suppose instead that we had handled the case of a procedure call 
+with a linkage of return and a target of val as shown above for a non- 
+val target. This would destroy tail recursion. Our system would still give 
+the same value for any expression. But each time we called a procedure, 
+we would save continue and return after the call to undo the (useless) 
+save. These extra saves would accumulate during a nest of procedure 
+
+
+
+795 
+
+
+
+calls. 40 
+
+Compile-proc-appl generates the above procedure-application code 
+by considering four cases, depending on whether the target for the call 
+is val and whether the linkage is return. Observe that the instruction 
+sequences are declared to modify all the registers, since executing the 
+procedure body can change the registers in arbitrary ways. 41 Also note 
+that the code sequence for the case with target val and linkage return 
+is declared to need continue: Even though continue is not explicitly 
+used in the two-instruction sequence, we must be sure that continue 
+will have the correct value when we enter the compiled procedure. 
+
+(define (compile-proc-appl target linkage) 
+
+(cond ((and (eq? target 'val) (not (eq? linkage 'return))) 
+(make-instruction-sequence ' (proc) all-regs 
+v ((assign continue (label .linkage)) 
+
+40 Making a compiler generate tail-recursive code might seem like a straightforward 
+idea. But most compilers for common languages, including C and Pascal, do not do this, 
+and therefore these languages cannot represent iterative processes in terms of proce- 
+dure call alone. The difficulty with tail recursion in these languages is that their imple- 
+mentations use the stack to store procedure arguments and local variables as well as 
+return addresses. The Scheme implementations described in this book store arguments 
+and variables in memory to be garbage-collected. The reason for using the stack for 
+variables and arguments is that it avoids the need for garbage collection in languages 
+that would not otherwise require it, and is generally believed to be more efficient. So- 
+phisticated Lisp compilers can, in fact, use the stack for arguments without destroying 
+tail recursion. (See Hanson 1990 for a description.) There is also some debate about 
+whether stack allocation is actually more efficient than garbage collection in the first 
+place, but the details seem to hinge on fine points of computer architecture. (See Appel 
+1987 and Miller and Rozas 1994 for opposing views on this issue.) 
+
+41 The variable all-regs is bound to the list of names of all the registers: 
+
+(define all-regs ' (env proc val argl continue)) 
+
+
+
+796 
+
+
+
+(assign val (op compiled-procedure-entry) 
+
+(reg proc)) 
+(goto (reg val))))) 
+((and (not (eq? target 'val)) 
+
+(not (eq? linkage 'return))) 
+(let ( (proc-return (make-label 'proc-return))) 
+(make-instruction-sequence '(proc) all-regs 
+v ((assign continue (label , proc-return)) 
+(assign val (op compiled-procedure-entry) 
+
+(reg proc)) 
+(goto (reg val)) 
+, proc-return 
+
+(assign , target (reg val)) 
+(goto (label , linkage)))))) 
+((and (eq? target 'val) (eq? linkage 'return)) 
+(make- instruct ion-sequence 
+' (proc continue) 
+all-regs 
+
+'((assign val (op compiled-procedure-entry) 
+(reg proc)) 
+(goto (reg val))))) 
+((and (not (eq? target 'val)) 
+(eq? linkage 'return)) 
+(error "return linkage, target not val: COMPILE" 
+target)))) 
+
+5.5.4 Combining Instruction Sequences 
+
+This section describes the details on how instruction sequences are rep- 
+resented and combined. Recall from Section 5.5.1 that an instruction 
+sequence is represented as a list of the registers needed, the registers 
+modified, and the actual instructions. We will also consider a label (sym- 
+
+
+
+797 
+
+
+
+bol) to be a degenerate case of an instruction sequence, which doesn't 
+need or modify any registers. So to determine the registers needed and 
+modified by instruction sequences we use the selectors 
+
+(define (registers-needed s) 
+
+(if (symbol? s) '() (car s))) 
+(define (registers-modified s) 
+
+(if (symbol? s) '() (cadr s))) 
+(define (statements s) 
+
+(if (symbol? s) (list s) (caddr s))) 
+
+and to determine whether a given sequence needs or modifies a given 
+register we use the predicates 
+
+(define (needs-register? seq reg) 
+
+(memq reg (registers-needed seq))) 
+
+(define (modif ies-register? seq reg) 
+
+(memq reg (registers-modified seq))) 
+
+In terms of these predicates and selectors, we can implement the various 
+instruction sequence combiners used throughout the compiler. 
+
+The basic combiner is append-instruction-sequences. This takes 
+as arguments an arbitrary number of instruction sequences that are to 
+be executed sequentially and returns an instruction sequence whose 
+statements are the statements of all the sequences appended together. 
+The subtle point is to determine the registers that are needed and modi- 
+fied by the resulting sequence. It modifies those registers that are mod- 
+ified by any of the sequences; it needs those registers that must be ini- 
+tialized before the first sequence can be run (the registers needed by the 
+first sequence), together with those registers needed by any of the other 
+sequences that are not initialized (modified) by sequences preceding it. 
+
+The sequences are appended two at a time by append-2-sequences. 
+This takes two instruction sequences seql and seq2 and returns the in- 
+
+
+
+798 
+
+
+
+struction sequence whose statements are the statements of seql fol- 
+lowed by the statements of seq2, whose modified registers are those 
+registers that are modified by either seql or seq2, and whose needed 
+registers are the registers needed by seql together with those registers 
+needed by seq2 that are not modified by seql. (In terms of set opera- 
+tions, the new set of needed registers is the union of the set of regis- 
+ters needed by seql with the set difference of the registers needed by 
+seq2 and the registers modified by seql .) Thus, append-instruction- 
+sequences is implemented as follows: 
+
+(define (append-instruction-sequences . seqs) 
+(define (append-2-sequences seql seq2) 
+(make- instruct ion-sequence 
+(list-union 
+(registers-needed seql) 
+(list-difference (registers-needed seq2) 
+
+(registers-modified seql))) 
+(list-union (registers-modified seql) 
+
+(registers-modified seq2)) 
+(append (statements seql) (statements seq2)))) 
+(define (append-seq-list seqs) 
+(if (null? seqs) 
+
+(empty- instruct ion-sequence) 
+(append-2-sequences 
+(car seqs) 
+
+(append-seq-list (cdr seqs))))) 
+(append-seq-list seqs)) 
+
+This procedure uses some simple operations for manipulating sets rep- 
+resented as lists, similar to the (unordered) set representation described 
+in Section 2.3.3: 
+
+(define (list-union si s2) 
+(cond ((null? si) s2) 
+
+
+
+799 
+
+
+
+((memq (car si) s2) (list-union (cdr s1) s2)) 
+(else (cons (car s1) (list-union (cdr si) s2))))) 
+(define (list-difference s1 s2) 
+(cond ((null? s1) '()) 
+
+((memq (car si) s2) (list-difference (cdr s1) s2)) 
+(else (cons (car s1) 
+
+(list-difference (cdr s1) s2))))) 
+
+Preserving, the second major instruction sequence combiner, takes 
+a list of registers regs and two instruction sequences seql and seq2 
+that are to be executed sequentially. It returns an instruction sequence 
+whose statements are the statements of seql followed by the statements 
+of seq2, with appropriate save and restore instructions around seql 
+to protect the registers in regs that are modified by seql but needed by 
+seq2. To accomplish this, preserving first creates a sequence that has 
+the required saves followed by the statements of seql followed by the 
+required restores. This sequence needs the registers being saved and 
+restored in addition to the registers needed by seql, and modifies the 
+registers modified by seql except for the ones being saved and restored. 
+This augmented sequence and seq2 are then appended in the usual way. 
+The following procedure implements this strategy recursively, walking 
+down the list of registers to be preserved: 42 
+
+(define (preserving regs seql seq2) 
+(if (null? regs) 
+
+(append-instruction-sequences seql seq2) 
+(let ((first-reg (car regs))) 
+
+(if (and (needs-register? seq2 first-reg) 
+
+(modif ies-register? seql first-reg)) 
+
+42 Note that preserving calls append with three arguments. Though the definition of 
+append shown in this book accepts only two arguments, Scheme standardly provides 
+an append procedure that takes an arbitrary number of arguments. 
+
+
+
+800 
+
+
+
+(preserving (cdr regs) 
+(make- instruct ion-sequence 
+(list-union (list first-reg) 
+
+(registers-needed seql)) 
+(list-difference (registers-modified seql) 
+
+(list first-reg)) 
+(append *((save , first-reg)) 
+(statements seql) 
+v ((restore , first-reg)))) 
+
+seq2) 
+
+(preserving (cdr regs) seql seq2))))) 
+
+Another sequence combiner, tack-on-instruction-sequence, is used 
+by compile-lambda to append a procedure body to another sequence. 
+Because the procedure body is not "in line" to be executed as part of the 
+combined sequence, its register use has no impact on the register use 
+of the sequence in which it is embedded. We thus ignore the procedure 
+body's sets of needed and modified registers when we tack it onto the 
+other sequence. 
+
+(define (tack-on-instruction-sequence seq body-seq) 
+(make- instruct ion-sequence 
+(registers-needed seq) 
+(registers-modified seq) 
+(append (statements seq) 
+
+(statements body-seq)))) 
+
+Compile- if and compile-procedu re-call use a special combiner called 
+parallel-instruction-sequences to append the two alternative branches 
+that follow a test. The two branches will never be executed sequentially; 
+for any particular evaluation of the test, one branch or the other will be 
+entered. Because of this, the registers needed by the second branch are 
+still needed by the combined sequence, even if these are modified by the 
+
+
+
+801 
+
+
+
+first branch. 
+
+(define (parallel-instruction-sequences seql seq2) 
+(make- instruct ion-sequence 
+(list-union (registers-needed seql) 
+
+(registers-needed seq2)) 
+(list-union (registers-modified seql) 
+
+(registers-modified seq2)) 
+(append (statements seql) 
+
+(statements seq2)))) 
+
+5.5.5 An Example of Compiled Code 
+
+Now that we have seen all the elements of the compiler, let us examine 
+an example of compiled code to see how things fit together. We will 
+compile the definition of a recursive factorial procedure by calling 
+compile: 
+
+(compile 
+' (define (factorial n) 
+(if (= n 1) 
+
+1 
+
+(* (factorial (- n 1)) n))) 
+
+'val 
+' next) 
+
+We have specified that the value of the define expression should be 
+placed in the val register. We don't care what the compiled code does 
+after executing the define, so our choice of next as the linkage descrip- 
+tor is arbitrary. 
+
+Compile determines that the expression is a definition, so it calls 
+compile-def inition to compile code to compute the value to be as- 
+signed (targeted to val), followed by code to install the definition, fol- 
+
+
+
+802 
+
+
+
+lowed by code to put the value of the define (which is the symbol ok) 
+into the target register, followed finally by the linkage code. Env is pre- 
+served around the computation of the value, because it is needed in 
+order to install the definition. Because the linkage is next, there is no 
+linkage code in this case. The skeleton of the compiled code is thus 
+
+{save env if modified by code to compute value) 
+
+(compilation of definition value, target val, linkage next) 
+(restore env if saved above) 
+(perform (op def ine-variable ! ) 
+
+(const factorial) 
+
+(reg val) 
+
+(reg env)) 
+(assign val (const ok)) 
+
+The expression that is to be compiled to produce the value for the vari- 
+able factorial is a lambda expression whose value is the procedure that 
+computes factorials. Compile handles this by calling compile-lambda, 
+which compiles the procedure body, labels it as a new entry point, and 
+generates the instruction that will combine the procedure body at the 
+new entry point with the run-time environment and assign the result 
+to val. The sequence then skips around the compiled procedure code, 
+which is inserted at this point. The procedure code itself begins by ex- 
+tending the procedure's definition environment by a frame that binds 
+the formal parameter n to the procedure argument. Then comes the ac- 
+tual procedure body. Since this code for the value of the variable doesn't 
+modify the env register, the optional save and restore shown above 
+aren't generated. (The procedure code at entry 2 isn't executed at this 
+point, so its use of env is irrelevant.) Therefore, the skeleton for the 
+compiled code becomes 
+
+(assign val 
+
+(op make-compiled-procedure) 
+
+
+
+803 
+
+
+
+(label entry2) 
+(reg env)) 
+(goto (label after-lambdal )) 
+entry2 
+
+(assign env (op compiled-procedure-env) (reg proc)) 
+(assign env 
+
+(op extend-environment) 
+(const (n)) 
+(reg argl) 
+(reg env)) 
+(compilation of procedure body) 
+after-lambdal 
+
+(perform (op def ine-variable ! ) 
+(const factorial) 
+(reg val) 
+(reg env)) 
+(assign val (const ok)) 
+
+A procedure body is always compiled (by compile-lambda-body) as a 
+sequence with target val and linkage return. The sequence in this case 
+consists of a single if expression: 
+
+(if (= n 1) 
+
+1 
+
+(* (factorial (- n 1)) n)) 
+
+Compile-if generates code that first computes the predicate (targeted 
+to val), then checks the result and branches around the true branch if 
+the predicate is false. Env and continue are preserved around the pred- 
+icate code, since they may be needed for the rest of the if expression. 
+Since the if expression is the final expression (and only expression) 
+in the sequence making up the procedure body, its target is val and 
+its linkage is return, so the true and false branches are both compiled 
+with target val and linkage return. (That is, the value of the conditional, 
+
+
+
+804 
+
+
+
+which is the value computed by either of its branches, is the value of the 
+procedure.) 
+
+{save continue, env if modified by predicate and needed by branches) 
+
+{compilation of predicate , target val, linkage next) 
+
+{restore continue, env if saved above) 
+
+(test (op false?) (reg val)) 
+
+(branch (label false-branch4) ) 
+true-branch5 
+
+{compilation of true branch, target val, linkage return) 
+f alse-branch4 
+
+{compilation of false branch, target val, linkage return) 
+af ter-if 3 
+
+The predicate (= n 1 ) is a procedure call. This looks up the opera- 
+tor (the symbol =) and places this value in proc. It then assembles the 
+arguments 1 and the value of n into argl. Then it tests whether proc 
+contains a primitive or a compound procedure, and dispatches to a prim- 
+itive branch or a compound branch accordingly. Both branches resume 
+at the after-call label. The requirements to preserve registers around 
+the evaluation of the operator and operands don't result in any sav- 
+ing of registers, because in this case those evaluations don't modify the 
+registers in question. 
+
+(assign proc 
+
+(op lookup-variable-value) (const =) (reg env)) 
+(assign val (const 1)) 
+(assign argl (op list) (reg val)) 
+(assign val 
+
+(op lookup-variable-value) (const n) (reg env)) 
+(assign argl (op cons) (reg val) (reg argl)) 
+(test (op primitive-procedure?) (reg proc)) 
+(branch (label primitive-branchl 7)) 
+compiled-branch! 6 
+
+
+
+805 
+
+
+
+(assign continue (label af ter-call1 5) ) 
+(assign val (op compiled-procedure-entry) (reg proc)) 
+(goto (reg val)) 
+primitive-branchl 7 
+(assign val 
+
+(op apply-primitive-procedure) 
+(reg proc) 
+(reg argl)) 
+af ter-call1 5 
+
+The true branch, which is the constant 1, compiles (with target val and 
+linkage return) to 
+
+(assign val (const 1)) 
+(goto (reg continue)) 
+
+The code for the false branch is another procedure call, where the proce- 
+dure is the value of the symbol *, and the arguments are n and the result 
+of another procedure call (a call to factorial). Each of these calls sets 
+up proc and a rgl and its own primitive and compound branches. Figure 
+5.17 shows the complete compilation of the definition of the factorial 
+procedure. Notice that the possible save and restore of continue and 
+env around the predicate, shown above, are in fact generated, because 
+these registers are modified by the procedure call in the predicate and 
+needed for the procedure call and the return linkage in the branches. 
+
+Exercise 5.33: Consider the following definition of a fac- 
+torial procedure, which is slightly different from the one 
+given above: 
+
+(define (factorial-alt n) 
+(if (= n 1) 
+1 
+
+(* n (factorial-alt (- n 1))))) 
+
+
+
+806 
+
+
+
+Compile this procedure and compare the resulting code with 
+that produced for factorial. Explain any differences you 
+find. Does either program execute more efficiently than the 
+other? 
+
+Exercise 5.34: Compile the iterative factorial procedure 
+
+(define (factorial n) 
+
+(define (iter product counter) 
+(if (> counter n) 
+product 
+
+(iter (* counter product) 
+(+ counter 1)))) 
+
+(iter 1 1)) 
+
+Annotate the resulting code, showing the essential differ- 
+ence between the code for iterative and recursive versions 
+of factorial that makes one process build up stack space 
+and the other run in constant stack space. 
+
+Figure 5.T7: J, Compilation of the definition of the factorial 
+procedure. 
+
+;; construct the procedure and skip over code for the procedure body 
+(assign val 
+
+(op make-compiled-procedure) 
+
+(label entry2) 
+
+(reg env)) 
+(goto (label after-lambdal )) 
+entry2 ; calls to factorial will enter here 
+
+(assign env (op compiled-procedure-env) (reg proc)) 
+(assign env 
+
+(op extend-environment) 
+
+(const (n)) 
+
+(reg argl) 
+
+
+
+807 
+
+
+
+(reg env)) 
+;; begin actual procedure body 
+(save continue) 
+(save env) 
+;; compute (= n 1 ) 
+(assign proc 
+
+(op lookup-variable-value) 
+
+(const =) 
+
+(reg env)) 
+(assign val (const 1)) 
+(assign argl (op list) (reg val)) 
+(assign val 
+
+(op lookup-variable-value) 
+
+(const n) 
+
+(reg env)) 
+
+(assign argl (op cons) (reg val) (reg argl)) 
+(test (op primitive-procedure?) (reg proc)) 
+(branch (label primitive-branchl 7)) 
+compiled-branchl 6 
+
+(assign continue (label after-calll 5)) 
+(assign val (op compiled-procedure-entry) (reg proc)) 
+(goto (reg val)) 
+primitive-branchl 7 
+(assign val 
+
+(op apply-primitive-procedure) 
+
+(reg proc) 
+
+(reg argl)) 
+
+after-calll 5 ; val now contains result of (= n 1) 
+
+(restore env) 
+
+(restore continue) 
+
+(test (op false?) (reg val)) 
+
+(branch (label false-branch4)) 
+true-branch5 ; return 1 
+
+(assign val (const 1)) 
+
+(goto (reg continue)) 
+false-branch4 
+
+
+
+808 
+
+
+
+;; compute and return (* (factorial (- n 1)) n) 
+(assign proc 
+
+(op lookup-variable-value) 
+
+(const *) 
+
+(reg env)) 
+(save continue) 
+
+(save proc) ; save * procedure 
+(assign val 
+
+(op lookup-variable-value) 
+
+(const n) 
+
+(reg env)) 
+(assign argl (op list) (reg val)) 
+(save argl) ; save partial argument list for * 
+;; compute (factorial (- n 1 )), which is the other argument for * 
+(assign proc 
+
+(op lookup-variable-value) 
+
+(const factorial) 
+
+(reg env)) 
+(save proc) ; save factorial procedure 
+;; compute (- n 1 ), which is the argument for factorial 
+(assign proc 
+
+(op lookup-variable-value) 
+
+(const -) 
+
+(reg env)) 
+(assign val (const 1)) 
+(assign argl (op list) (reg val)) 
+(assign val 
+
+(op lookup-variable-value) 
+
+(const n) 
+
+(reg env)) 
+
+(assign argl (op cons) (reg val) (reg argl)) 
+(test (op primitive-procedure?) (reg proc)) 
+(branch (label primitive-branch8)) 
+compiled -branch 7 
+
+(assign continue (label af ter-call6) ) 
+
+(assign val (op compiled-procedure-entry) (reg proc)) 
+
+
+
+809 
+
+
+
+(goto (reg val)) 
+primitive-bra nch8 
+(assign val 
+
+(op apply-primitive-procedure) 
+
+(reg proc) 
+
+(reg argl)) 
+
+after-call6 ; val now contains result of (- n 1) 
+
+(assign argl (op list) (reg val)) 
+
+(restore proc) ; restore factorial 
+;; apply factorial 
+
+(test (op primitive-procedure?) (reg proc)) 
+
+(branch (label primitive-branchl 1 ) ) 
+compiled-branchl 0 
+
+(assign continue (label af ter-call9) ) 
+
+(assign val (op compiled-procedure-entry) (reg proc)) 
+
+(goto (reg val)) 
+primitive-branchl 1 
+
+(assign val 
+
+(op apply-primitive-procedure) 
+(reg proc) 
+(reg argl)) 
+
+after-call9 ; val now contains result of (factorial (- n 
+
+(restore argl) ; restore partial argument list for * 
+(assign argl (op cons) (reg val) (reg argl)) 
+(restore proc) ; restore * 
+(restore continue) 
+
+;; apply * and return its value 
+
+(test (op primitive-procedure?) (reg proc)) 
+(branch (label primitive-branchl 4) ) 
+
+compiled-branchl 3 
+
+;; note that a compound procedure here is called tail-recursively 
+(assign val (op compiled-procedure-entry) (reg proc)) 
+(goto (reg val)) 
+
+primitive-branchl 4 
+(assign val 
+
+(op apply-primitive-procedure) 
+
+
+
+810 
+
+
+
+(reg proc) 
+
+(reg argl)) 
+(goto (reg continue)) 
+after- call12 
+after-if3 
+af ter-lambda1 
+
+;; assign the procedure to the variable factorial 
+(perform (op def ine-variable ! ) 
+
+(const factorial) 
+
+(reg val) 
+
+(reg env)) 
+(assign val (const ok)) 
+
+Exercise 5.35: What expression was compiled to produce 
+the code shown in Figure 5.18? 
+
+Figure 5.T8: J, An example of compiler output. See Exercise 
+5.35. 
+
+(assign val 
+
+(op make-compiled-procedure) 
+
+(label entry16) 
+
+(reg env)) 
+(goto (label after-lambdal 5)) 
+entryl 6 
+
+(assign env (op compiled-procedure-env) (reg proc)) 
+(assign env 
+
+(op extend-environment) 
+
+(const (x)) 
+
+(reg argl) 
+
+(reg env)) 
+(assign proc 
+
+(op lookup-variable-value) 
+
+(const +) 
+
+(reg env)) 
+(save continue) 
+
+
+
+811 
+
+
+
+(save proc) 
+(save env) 
+(assign proc 
+
+(op lookup-variable-value) 
+
+(const g) 
+
+(reg env)) 
+(save proc) 
+(assign proc 
+
+(op lookup-variable-value) 
+
+(const +) 
+
+(reg env)) 
+(assign val (const 2)) 
+(assign argl (op list) (reg val)) 
+(assign val 
+
+(op lookup-variable-value) 
+
+(const x) 
+
+(reg env)) 
+
+(assign argl (op cons) (reg val) (reg argl)) 
+
+(test (op primitive-procedure?) (reg proc)) 
+
+(branch (label primitive-branchl 9) ) 
+compiled-branchl 8 
+
+(assign continue (label after-calll 7)) 
+
+(assign val (op compiled-procedure-entry) (reg proc)) 
+
+(goto (reg val)) 
+primitive-branchl 9 
+
+(assign val 
+
+(op apply-primitive-procedure) 
+(reg proc) 
+(reg argl)) 
+after-call17 
+
+(assign argl (op list) (reg val)) 
+
+(restore proc) 
+
+(test (op primitive-procedure?) (reg proc)) 
+(branch (label primitive-branch22) ) 
+compiled-branch21 
+
+(assign continue (label after-call20)) 
+
+
+
+812 
+
+
+
+(assign val (op compiled-procedure-entry) (reg proc)) 
+(goto (reg val)) 
+primitive-bra nch22 
+(assign val 
+
+(op apply-primitive-procedure) 
+
+(reg proc) 
+
+(reg argl)) 
+after-call20 
+
+(assign argl (op list) (reg val)) 
+(restore env) 
+(assign val 
+
+(op lookup-variable-value) 
+
+(const x) 
+
+(reg env)) 
+
+(assign argl (op cons) (reg val) (reg argl)) 
+(restore proc) 
+(restore continue) 
+
+(test (op primitive-procedure?) (reg proc)) 
+(branch (label primitive-branch25) ) 
+compiled-branch24 
+(assign val 
+
+(op compiled-procedure-entry) 
+(reg proc)) 
+(goto (reg val)) 
+primitive-bra nch25 
+(assign val 
+
+(op apply-primitive-procedure) 
+(reg proc) 
+(reg argl)) 
+(goto (reg continue)) 
+after-call23 
+af ter-lambda1 5 
+
+(perform (op def ine-variable ! ) 
+(const f) 
+(reg val) 
+(reg env)) 
+
+
+
+813 
+
+
+
+(assign val (const ok)) 
+
+Exercise 5.36: What order of evaluation does our compiler 
+produce for operands of a combination? Is it left-to-right, 
+right-to-left, or some other order? Where in the compiler is 
+this order determined? Modify the compiler so that it pro- 
+duces some other order of evaluation. (See the discussion of 
+order of evaluation for the explicit-control evaluator in Sec- 
+tion 5.4.1.) How does changing the order of operand eval- 
+uation affect the efficiency of the code that constructs the 
+argument list? 
+
+Exercise 5.37: One way to understand the compiler's preserving 
+mechanism for optimizing stack usage is to see what ex- 
+tra operations would be generated if we did not use this 
+idea. Modify preserving so that it always generates the 
+save and restore operations. Compile some simple expres- 
+sions and identify the unnecessary stack operations that 
+are generated. Compare the code to that generated with the 
+preserving mechanism intact. 
+
+Exercise 5.38: Our compiler is clever about avoiding un- 
+necessary stack operations, but it is not clever at all when it 
+comes to compiling calls to the primitive procedures of the 
+language in terms of the primitive operations supplied by 
+the machine. For example, consider how much code is com- 
+piled to compute (+ a 1 ): The code sets up an argument 
+list in argl, puts the primitive addition procedure (which it 
+finds by looking up the symbol + in the environment) into 
+
+
+
+814 
+
+
+
+proc, and tests whether the procedure is primitive or com- 
+pound. The compiler always generates code to perform the 
+test, as well as code for primitive and compound branches 
+(only one of which will be executed). We have not shown 
+the part of the controller that implements primitives, but 
+we presume that these instructions make use of primitive 
+arithmetic operations in the machine's data paths. Consider 
+how much less code would be generated if the compiler 
+could open-code primitives— that is, if it could generate code 
+to directly use these primitive machine operations. The ex- 
+pression (+ a 1 ) might be compiled into something as sim- 
+ple as 43 
+
+(assign 
+
+val (op lookup-variable-value) (const a) (reg env)) 
+(assign val (op +) (reg val) (const 1)) 
+
+In this exercise we will extend our compiler to support open 
+coding of selected primitives. Special-purpose code will be 
+generated for calls to these primitive procedures instead of 
+the general procedure-application code. In order to support 
+this, we will augment our machine with special argument 
+registers arg1 and arg2. The primitive arithmetic opera- 
+tions of the machine will take their inputs from arg1 and 
+arg2. The results may be put into val, arg1 , or arg2. 
+
+The compiler must be able to recognize the application of an 
+open-coded primitive in the source program. We will aug- 
+ment the dispatch in the compile procedure to recognize 
+
+43 We have used the same symbol + here to denote both the source-language proce- 
+dure and the machine operation. In general there will not be a one-to-one correspon- 
+dence between primitives of the source language and primitives of the machine. 
+
+
+
+815 
+
+
+
+the names of these primitives in addition to the reserved 
+words (the special forms) it currently recognizes. 44 For each 
+special form our compiler has a code generator. In this ex- 
+ercise we will construct a family of code generators for the 
+open-coded primitives. 
+
+a. The open-coded primitives, unlike the special forms, 
+all need their operands evaluated. Write a code gener- 
+ator spread-arguments for use by all the open-coding 
+code generators. Spread-arguments should take an 
+operand list and compile the given operands targeted 
+to successive argument registers. Note that an operand 
+may contain a call to an open-coded primitive, so ar- 
+gument registers will have to be preserved during operand 
+evaluation. 
+
+b. For each of the primitive procedures =, *, -, and +, 
+write a code generator that takes a combination with 
+that operator, together with a target and a linkage de- 
+scriptor, and produces code to spread the arguments 
+into the registers and then perform the operation tar- 
+geted to the given target with the given linkage. You 
+need only handle expressions with two operands. Make 
+compile dispatch to these code generators. 
+
+c. Try your new compiler on the factorial example. 
+Compare the resulting code with the result produced 
+without open coding. 
+
+44 Making the primitives into reserved words is in general a bad idea, since a user 
+cannot then rebind these names to different procedures. Moreover, if we add reserved 
+words to a compiler that is in use, existing programs that define procedures with these 
+names will stop working. See Exercise 5.44 for ideas on how to avoid this problem. 
+
+
+
+816 
+
+
+
+d. Extend your code generators for + and * so that they 
+can handle expressions with arbitrary numbers of operands. 
+An expression with more than two operands will have 
+to be compiled into a sequence of operations, each 
+with only two inputs. 
+
+5.5.6 Lexical Addressing 
+
+One of the most common optimizations performed by compilers is the 
+optimization of variable lookup. Our compiler, as we have implemented 
+it so far, generates code that uses the lookup-variable-value opera- 
+tion of the evaluator machine. This searches for a variable by comparing 
+it with each variable that is currently bound, working frame by frame 
+outward through the run-time environment. This search can be expen- 
+sive if the frames are deeply nested or if there are many variables. For 
+example, consider the problem of looking up the value of x while eval- 
+uating the expression (* x y z) in an application of the procedure that 
+is returned by 
+
+(let ((x 3) (y 4)) 
+(lambda (a b c d e) 
+
+(let ((y (* a b x)) (z (+ c d x))) 
+(* x y z)))) 
+
+Since a let expression is just syntactic sugar for a lambda combination, 
+this expression is equivalent to 
+
+((lambda (x y) 
+
+(lambda (a b c d e) 
+
+((lambda (y z) (* x y z)) 
+
+(* a b x) 
+(+ c d x)))) 
+
+3 
+
+4) 
+
+817 
+
+
+
+Each time lookup-variable-value searches for x, it must determine 
+that the symbol x is not eq? to y or z (in the first frame), nor to a, b, 
+c, d, or e (in the second frame). We will assume, for the moment, that 
+our programs do not use define— that variables are bound only with 
+lambda. Because our language is lexically scoped, the run-time environ- 
+ment for any expression will have a structure that parallels the lexical 
+structure of the program in which the expression appears. 45 Thus, the 
+compiler can know, when it analyzes the above expression, that each 
+time the procedure is applied the variable x in (* x y z) will be found 
+two frames out from the current frame and will be the first variable in 
+that frame. 
+
+We can exploit this fact by inventing a new kind of variable-lookup 
+operation, lexical-address-lookup, that takes as arguments an envi- 
+ronment and a lexical address that consists of two numbers: a. frame num- 
+ber, which specifies how many frames to pass over, and a displacement 
+number, which specifies how many variables to pass over in that frame. 
+Lexical-address-lookup will produce the value of the variable stored 
+at that lexical address relative to the current environment. If we add the 
+lexical-address-lookup operation to our machine, we can make the 
+compiler generate code that references variables using this operation, 
+rather than lookup-variable-value. Similarly, our compiled code can 
+use a new lexical-address-set ! operation instead of set-variable- 
+value ! . 
+
+In order to generate such code, the compiler must be able to deter- 
+mine the lexical address of a variable it is about to compile a reference 
+to. The lexical address of a variable in a program depends on where one 
+is in the code. For example, in the following program, the address of x 
+
+45 This is not true if we allow internal definitions, unless we scan them out. See Ex- 
+ercise 5.43. 
+
+
+
+818 
+
+
+
+in expression (el ) is (2, 0)— two frames back and the first variable in the 
+frame. At that point y is at address (0, 0) and c is at address (1, 2). In 
+expression (e2), x is at (1, 0), y is at (1, 1), and c is at (0, 2). 
+
+((lambda (x y) 
+
+(lambda (a b c d e) 
+((lambda (y z) <e7» 
+(e2) 
+
+(+ c d x)))) 
+
+3 
+
+4) 
+
+One way for the compiler to produce code that uses lexical address- 
+ing is to maintain a data structure called a compile-time environment. 
+This keeps track of which variables will be at which positions in which 
+frames in the run-time environment when a particular variable-access 
+operation is executed. The compile-time environment is a list of frames, 
+each containing a list of variables. (There will of course be no values 
+bound to the variables, since values are not computed at compile time.) 
+The compile-time environment becomes an additional argument to compi le 
+and is passed along to each code generator. The top-level call to compi le 
+uses an empty compile-time environment. When a lambda body is com- 
+piled, compi le-lambda-body extends the compile-time environment by 
+a frame containing the procedure's parameters, so that the sequence 
+making up the body is compiled with that extended environment. At 
+each point in the compilation, compile-variable and compile-assignment 
+use the compile-time environment in order to generate the appropriate 
+lexical addresses. 
+
+Exercise 5.39 through Exercise 5.43 describe how to complete this 
+sketch of the lexical-addressing strategy in order to incorporate lexical 
+lookup into the compiler. Exercise 5.44 describes another use for the 
+
+
+
+819 
+
+
+
+compile-time environment. 
+
+
+
+Exercise 5.39: Write a procedure lexical-address-lookup 
+that implements the new lookup operation. It should take 
+two arguments— a lexical address and a run-time environment— 
+and return the value of the variable stored at the specified 
+lexical address. Lexical-address-lookup should signal an 
+error if the value of the variable is the symbol *unassigned*. 46 
+Also write a procedure lexical-address-set! that imple- 
+ments the operation that changes the value of the variable 
+at a specified lexical address. 
+
+Exercise 5.40: Modify the compiler to maintain the compile- 
+time environment as described above. That is, add a compile- 
+time-environment argument to compile and the various 
+code generators, and extend it in compile-lambda-body. 
+
+Exercise 5.4T: Write a procedure find- variable that takes 
+as arguments a variable and a compile-time environment 
+and returns the lexical address of the variable with respect 
+to that environment. For example, in the program fragment 
+that is shown above, the compile-time environment during 
+the compilation of expression (el) is ((y z) (a b c d e) 
+(x y)). Find-variable should produce 
+
+(find-variable 'c '((y z) (a b c d e) (x y))) 
+
+a 2) 
+
+(find-variable 'x '((y z) (a b c d e) (x y))) 
+
+46 This is the modification to variable lookup required if we implement the scanning 
+method to eliminate internal definitions (Exercise 5.43). We will need to eliminate these 
+definitions in order for lexical addressing to work. 
+
+
+
+820 
+
+
+
+(2 0) 
+
+(find-variable 'w '((y z) (a b c d e) (x y))) 
+not-found 
+
+Exercise 5.42: Using find-variable from Exercise 5.41, 
+rewrite compile- variable andcompile-assignment to out- 
+put lexical- address instructions . In cases where find-variable 
+returns not-found (that is, where the variable is not in the 
+compile-time environment), you should have the code gen- 
+erators use the evaluator operations, as before, to search 
+for the binding. (The only place a variable that is not found 
+at compile time can be is in the global environment, which 
+is part of the run-time environment but is not part of the 
+compile-time environment. 47 Thus, if you wish, you may 
+have the evaluator operations look directly in the global en- 
+vironment, which can be obtained with the operation (op 
+get-global-environment), instead of having them search 
+the whole run-time environment found in env.) Test the 
+modified compiler on a few simple cases, such as the nested 
+lambda combination at the beginning of this section. 
+
+Exercise 5.43: We argued in Section 4.1.6 that internal def- 
+initions for block structure should not be considered "real" 
+defines. Rather, a procedure body should be interpreted as 
+if the internal variables being defined were installed as or- 
+dinary lambda variables initialized to their correct values 
+
+47 Lexical addresses cannot be used to access variables in the global environment, be- 
+cause these names can be defined and redefined interactively at any time. With internal 
+definitions scanned out, as in Exercise 5.43, the only definitions the compiler sees are 
+those at top level, which act on the global environment. Compilation of a definition 
+does not cause the defined name to be entered in the compile-time environment. 
+
+
+
+821 
+
+
+
+using set ! . Section 4.1.6 and Exercise 4.16 showed how to 
+modify the metacircular interpreter to accomplish this by 
+scanning out internal definitions. Modify the compiler to 
+perform the same transformation before it compiles a pro- 
+cedure body. 
+
+Exercise 5.44: In this section we have focused on the use of 
+the compile-time environment to produce lexical addresses. 
+But there are other uses for compile-time environments. 
+For instance, in Exercise 5.38 we increased the efficiency of 
+compiled code by open-coding primitive procedures. Our 
+implementation treated the names of open-coded proce- 
+dures as reserved words. If a program were to rebind such a 
+name, the mechanism described in Exercise 5.38 would still 
+open-code it as a primitive, ignoring the new binding. For 
+example, consider the procedure 
+
+(lambda (+ * a b x y) 
+
+(+ (* a x) (* b y))) 
+
+which computes a linear combination of x and y. We might 
+call it with arguments +matrix, *matrix, and four matrices, 
+but the open-coding compiler would still open-code the + 
+and the * in (+ (* ax) (* b y)) as primitive + and *. 
+Modify the open-coding compiler to consult the compile- 
+time environment in order to compile the correct code for 
+expressions involving the names of primitive procedures. 
+(The code will work correctly as long as the program does 
+not define or set ! these names.) 
+
+
+
+822 
+
+
+
+5.5.7 Interfacing Compiled Code to the Evaluator 
+
+We have not yet explained how to load compiled code into the evalua- 
+tor machine or how to run it. We will assume that the explicit- control- 
+evaluator machine has been denned as in Section 5.4.4, with the addi- 
+tional operations specified in Footnote 38. We will implement a pro- 
+cedure compile-and-go that compiles a Scheme expression, loads the 
+resulting object code into the evaluator machine, and causes the ma- 
+chine to run the code in the evaluator global environment, print the 
+result, and enter the evaluator's driver loop. We will also modify the 
+evaluator so that interpreted expressions can call compiled procedures 
+as well as interpreted ones. We can then put a compiled procedure into 
+the machine and use the evaluator to call it: 
+
+(compile-and-go 
+' (define (factorial n) 
+(if (= n 1) 
+
+1 
+
+(* (factorial (- n 1)) n)))) 
+; ; ; EC-Eva I value : 
+ok 
+
+;;; EC-Eval input: 
+(factorial 5) 
+; ; ; EC-Eva I value : 
+120 
+
+To allow the evaluator to handle compiled procedures (for example, to 
+evaluate the call to factorial above), we need to change the code at 
+apply-dispatch (Section 5.4.1) so that it recognizes compiled proce- 
+dures (as distinct from compound or primitive procedures) and transfers 
+
+
+
+823 
+
+
+
+control directly to the entry point of the compiled code: 48 
+
+apply-dispatch 
+
+(test (op primitive-procedure?) (reg proc)) 
+
+(branch (label primitive-apply)) 
+
+(test (op compound-procedure?) (reg proc)) 
+
+(branch (label compound-apply)) 
+
+(test (op compiled-procedure?) (reg proc)) 
+
+(branch (label compiled-apply)) 
+
+(goto (label unknown-procedure-type)) 
+compiled-apply 
+
+(restore continue) 
+
+(assign val (op compiled-procedure-entry) (reg proc)) 
+(goto (reg val)) 
+
+Note the restore of continue at compiled-apply. Recall that the eval- 
+uator was arranged so that at apply-dispatch, the continuation would 
+be at the top of the stack. The compiled code entry point, on the other 
+hand, expects the continuation to be in continue, so continue must be 
+restored before the compiled code is executed. 
+
+To enable us to run some compiled code when we start the evaluator 
+machine, we add a branch instruction at the beginning of the evaluator 
+machine, which causes the machine to go to a new entry point if the 
+flag register is set. 49 
+
+48 Of course, compiled procedures as well as interpreted procedures are compound 
+(nonprimitive). For compatibility with the terminology used in the explicit-control 
+evaluator, in this section we will use "compound" to mean interpreted (as opposed to 
+compiled). 
+
+49 Now that the evaluator machine starts with a branch, we must always initialize the 
+flag register before starting the evaluator machine. To start the machine at its ordinary 
+read-eval-print loop, we could use 
+
+(define (start-eceval) 
+
+(set! the-global-environment (setup-environment)) 
+
+
+
+824 
+
+
+
+(branch (label external-entry)) ; branches if flag is set 
+
+read-eval -print- loop 
+
+(perform (op initialize-stack)) 
+
+External-entry assumes that the machine is started with val contain- 
+ing the location of an instruction sequence that puts a result into val 
+and ends with (goto (reg continue)). Starting at this entry point 
+jumps to the location designated by val, but first assigns continue so 
+that execution will return to print-result, which prints the value in 
+val and then goes to the beginning of the evaluator's read-eval-print 
+loop. 50 
+
+external-entry 
+
+(perform (op initialize-stack)) 
+(assign env (op get-global-environment)) 
+(assign continue (label print-result)) 
+(goto (reg val)) 
+
+(set-register-contents! eceval 'flag false) 
+(start eceval)) 
+
+50 Since a compiled procedure is an object that the system may try to print, we also 
+modify the system print operation user-print (from Section 4.1.4) so that it will not 
+attempt to print the components of a compiled procedure: 
+
+(define (user-print object) 
+
+(cond ((compound-procedure? object) 
+
+(display (list 'compound-procedure 
+
+(procedure-parameters object) 
+(procedure-body object) 
+'<procedu re-en v>))) 
+( (compiled-procedure? object) 
+
+(display '<compiled-procedure>)) 
+(else (display object)))) 
+
+
+
+825 
+
+
+
+Now we can use the following procedure to compile a procedure defini- 
+tion, execute the compiled code, and run the read-eval-print loop so we 
+can try the procedure. Because we want the compiled code to return to 
+the location in continue with its result in val, we compile the expres- 
+sion with a target of val and a linkage of return. In order to transform 
+the object code produced by the compiler into executable instructions 
+for the evaluator register machine, we use the procedure assemble from 
+the register-machine simulator (Section 5.2.2). We then initialize the val 
+register to point to the list of instructions, set the flag so that the eval- 
+uator will go to external-entry, and start the evaluator. 
+
+(define (compile-and-go expression) 
+(let ((instructions 
+(assemble 
+(statements 
+
+(compile expression 'val 'return)) 
+eceval))) 
+
+(set! the-global-environment (setup-environment)) 
+(set-register-contents! eceval 'val instructions) 
+(set-register-contents! eceval 'flag true) 
+(start eceval))) 
+
+If we have set up stack monitoring, as at the end of Section 5.4.4, we can 
+examine the stack usage of compiled code: 
+
+(compile-and-go 
+'(define (factorial n) 
+(if (= n 1) 
+
+1 
+
+(* (factorial (- n 1)) n)))) 
+(total-pushes = 0 maximum-depth = 0) 
+; ; ; EC-Eva I value : 
+ok 
+
+;;; EC-Eval input: 
+
+
+
+826 
+
+
+
+(factorial 5) 
+
+(total-pushes = 31 maximum-depth = 14) 
+
+; ; ; EC-Eva I value : 
+
+120 
+
+Compare this example with the evaluation of (factorial 5) using the 
+interpreted version of the same procedure, shown at the end of Sec- 
+tion 5.4.4. The interpreted version required 144 pushes and a maximum 
+stack depth of 28. This illustrates the optimization that results from our 
+compilation strategy. 
+
+Interpretation and compilation 
+
+With the programs in this section, we can now experiment with the al- 
+ternative execution strategies of interpretation and compilation. 51 An 
+interpreter raises the machine to the level of the user program; a com- 
+piler lowers the user program to the level of the machine language. We 
+can regard the Scheme language (or any programming language) as a 
+coherent family of abstractions erected on the machine language. In- 
+terpreters are good for interactive program development and debug- 
+ging because the steps of program execution are organized in terms of 
+these abstractions, and are therefore more intelligible to the program- 
+mer. Compiled code can execute faster, because the steps of program 
+execution are organized in terms of the machine language, and the com- 
+piler is free to make optimizations that cut across the higher-level ab- 
+stractions. 52 
+
+51 We can do even better by extending the compiler to allow compiled code to call 
+interpreted procedures. See Exercise 5.47. 
+
+^Independent of the strategy of execution, we incur significant overhead if we in- 
+sist that errors encountered in execution of a user program be detected and signaled, 
+rather than being allowed to kill the system or produce wrong answers. For example, an 
+
+
+
+827 
+
+
+
+The alternatives of interpretation and compilation also lead to dif- 
+ferent strategies for porting languages to new computers. Suppose that 
+we wish to implement Lisp for a new machine. One strategy is to be- 
+gin with the explicit-control evaluator of Section 5.4 and translate its 
+instructions to instructions for the new machine. A different strategy 
+is to begin with the compiler and change the code generators so that 
+they generate code for the new machine. The second strategy allows us 
+to run any Lisp program on the new machine by first compiling it with 
+the compiler running on our original Lisp system, and linking it with a 
+compiled version of the run-time library. 53 Better yet, we can compile 
+the compiler itself, and run this on the new machine to compile other 
+Lisp programs. 54 Or we can compile one of the interpreters of Section 
+
+out-of-bounds array reference can be detected by checking the validity of the reference 
+before performing it. The overhead of checking, however, can be many times the cost of 
+the array reference itself, and a programmer should weigh speed against safety in de- 
+termining whether such a check is desirable. A good compiler should be able to produce 
+code with such checks, should avoid redundant checks, and should allow programmers 
+to control the extent and type of error checking in the compiled code. 
+
+Compilers for popular languages, such as C and C++, put hardly any error-checking 
+operations into running code, so as to make things run as fast as possible. As a result, it 
+falls to programmers to explicitly provide error checking. Unfortunately, people often 
+neglect to do this, even in critical applications where speed is not a constraint. Their 
+programs lead fast and dangerous lives. For example, the notorious "Worm" that par- 
+alyzed the Internet in 1988 exploited the UNix(tm) operating system's failure to check 
+whether the input buffer has overflowed in the finger daemon. (See Spafford 1989.) 
+
+53 Of course, with either the interpretation or the compilation strategy we must also 
+implement for the new machine storage allocation, input and output, and all the various 
+operations that we took as "primitive" in our discussion of the evaluator and compiler. 
+One strategy for minimizing work here is to write as many of these operations as possi- 
+ble in Lisp and then compile them for the new machine. Ultimately, everything reduces 
+to a small kernel (such as garbage collection and the mechanism for applying actual 
+machine primitives) that is hand-coded for the new machine. 
+
+54 This strategy leads to amusing tests of correctness of the compiler, such as check- 
+
+
+
+828 
+
+
+
+4.1 to produce an interpreter that runs on the new machine. 
+
+Exercise 5.45: By comparing the stack operations used by 
+compiled code to the stack operations used by the evalua- 
+tor for the same computation, we can determine the extent 
+to which the compiler optimizes use of the stack, both in 
+speed (reducing the total number of stack operations) and 
+in space (reducing the maximum stack depth). Comparing 
+this optimized stack use to the performance of a special- 
+purpose machine for the same computation gives some in- 
+dication of the quality of the compiler. 
+
+a. Exercise 5.27 asked you to determine, as a function 
+of n, the number of pushes and the maximum stack 
+depth needed by the evaluator to compute n! using 
+the recursive factorial procedure given above. Exer- 
+cise 5.14 asked you to do the same measurements for 
+the special-purpose factorial machine shown in Fig- 
+ure 5.11. Now perform the same analysis using the 
+compiled factorial procedure. 
+Take the ratio of the number of pushes in the compiled 
+version to the number of pushes in the interpreted 
+version, and do the same for the maximum stack depth. 
+Since the number of operations and the stack depth 
+used to compute n\ are linear in n, these ratios should 
+approach constants as n becomes large. What are these 
+
+ing whether the compilation of a program on the new machine, using the compiled 
+compiler, is identical with the compilation of the program on the original Lisp system. 
+Tracking down the source of differences is fun but often frustrating, because the results 
+are extremely sensitive to minuscule details. 
+
+
+
+829 
+
+
+
+constants? Similarly, find the ratios of the stack usage 
+in the special-purpose machine to the usage in the in- 
+terpreted version. 
+
+Compare the ratios for special-purpose versus inter- 
+preted code to the ratios for compiled versus inter- 
+preted code. You should find that the special-purpose 
+machine does much better than the compiled code, 
+since the hand- tailored controller code should be much 
+better than what is produced by our rudimentary general- 
+purpose compiler. 
+
+b. Can you suggest improvements to the compiler that 
+would help it generate code that would come closer 
+in performance to the hand-tailored version? 
+
+Exercise 5.46: Carry out an analysis like the one in Ex- 
+ercise 5.45 to determine the effectiveness of compiling the 
+tree-recursive Fibonacci procedure 
+
+(define (fib n) 
+(if (< n 2) 
+n 
+
+(+ (fib (- n 1)) 
+(fib (- n 2))))) 
+
+compared to the effectiveness of using the special-purpose 
+Fibonacci machine of Figure 5.12. (For measurement of the 
+inter- preted performance, see Exercise 5.29.) For Fibonacci, 
+the time resource used is not linear in n; hence the ratios of 
+stack oper- ations will not approach a limiting value that is 
+independent of n. 
+
+
+
+830 
+
+
+
+Exercise 5.47: This section described how to modify the 
+explicit-control evaluator so that interpreted code can call 
+compiled procedures. Show how to modify the compiler so 
+that compiled procedures can call not only primitive proce- 
+dures and compiled procedures, but interpreted procedures 
+as well. This requires modifying compile-procedure-call 
+to handle the case of compound (interpreted) procedures. 
+Be sure to handle all the same target and linkage combi- 
+nations as in compile-proc-appl. To do the actual proce- 
+dure application, the code needs to jump to the evaluator's 
+compound-apply entry point. This label cannot be directly 
+referenced in object code (since the assembler requires that 
+all labels referenced by the code it is assembling be denned 
+there), so we will add a register called compapp to the eval- 
+uator machine to hold this entry point, and add an instruc- 
+tion to initialize it: 
+
+(assign compapp (label compound-apply)) 
+(branch (label external-entry)) ;branches if f lag is set 
+read-eval-print-loop . . . 
+
+To test your code, start by denning a procedure f that calls a 
+procedure g. Use compile-and-go to compile the definition 
+of f and start the evaluator. Now, typing at the evaluator, 
+define g and try to call f . 
+
+Exercise 5.48: The compile-and-go interface implemented 
+in this section is awkward, since the compiler can be called 
+only once (when the evaluator machine is started). Aug- 
+ment the compiler-interpreter interface byprovidinga compile- 
+and- run primitive that can be called from within the explicit - 
+
+
+
+831 
+
+
+
+control evaluator as follows: 
+
+
+
+;;; EC-Eval input: 
+(compile-and-run 
+'(define (factorial n) 
+
+(if (= n 1) 1 (* (factorial (- n 1)) n)))) 
+; ; ; EC-Eval value: 
+ok 
+
+;;; EC-Eval input: 
+(factorial 5) 
+;;; EC-Eval value: 
+120 
+
+Exercise 5.49: As an alternative to using the explicit- control 
+evaluator's read-eval-print loop, design a register machine 
+that performs a read-compile-execute-print loop. That is, 
+the machine should run a loop that reads an expression, 
+compiles it, assembles and executes the resulting code, and 
+prints the result. This is easy to run in our simulated setup, 
+since we can arrange to call the procedures compile and 
+assemble as "register-machine operations." 
+
+Exercise 5.50: Use the compiler to compile the metacir- 
+cular evaluator of Section 4.1 and run this program using 
+the register-machine simulator. (To compile more than one 
+definition at a time, you can package the definitions in a 
+begin.) The resulting interpreter will run very slowly be- 
+cause of the multiple levels of interpretation, but getting 
+all the details to work is an instructive exercise. 
+
+Exercise 5.5 T: Develop a rudimentary implementation of 
+Scheme in C (or some other low-level language of your 
+
+
+
+832 
+
+
+
+choice) by translating the explicit- control evaluator of Sec- 
+tion 5.4 into C. In order to run this code you will need to also 
+provide appropriate storage-allocation routines and other 
+run-time support. 
+
+Exercise 5.52: As a counterpoint to Exercise 5.51, modify 
+the compiler so that it compiles Scheme procedures into se- 
+quences of C instructions. Compile the metacircular evalu- 
+ator of Section 4.1 to produce a Scheme interpreter written 
+inC. 
+
+
+
+833 
+
+
+
+References 
+
+
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+
+
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+839 
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+
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+
+Zippel, Richard. 1993. Effective Polynomial Computation. Boston, MA: 
+Kluwer Academic Publishers. 
+
+
+
+843 
+
+
+
+List of Exercises 
+
+
+
+Chapter T 
+
+1.1 1.2 
+
+1.11 1.12 
+
+1.21 1.22 
+
+1.31 1.32 
+
+1.41 1.42 
+
+
+
+Chapter 2 
+
+
+
+2.1 
+
+
+2.2 
+
+
+2.11 
+
+
+2.12 
+
+
+2.21 
+
+
+2.22 
+
+
+2.31 
+
+
+2.32 
+
+
+2.41 
+
+
+2.42 
+
+
+2.51 
+
+
+2.52 
+
+
+2.61 
+
+
+2.62 
+
+
+2.71 
+
+
+2.72 
+
+
+2.81 
+
+
+2.82 
+
+
+2.91 
+
+
+2.92 
+
+
+
+1.3 1.4 
+
+1.13 1.14 
+
+1.23 1.24 
+
+1.33 1.34 
+
+1.43 1.44 
+
+
+
+2.3 2.4 
+
+2.13 2.14 
+
+2.23 2.24 
+
+2.33 2.34 
+
+2.43 2.44 
+
+2.53 2.54 
+
+2.63 2.64 
+
+2.73 2.74 
+
+2.83 2.84 
+
+2.93 2.94 
+
+
+
+1.5 1.6 
+
+1.15 1.16 
+
+1.25 1.26 
+
+1.35 1.36 
+
+1.45 1.46 
+
+
+
+2.5 2.6 
+
+2.15 2.16 
+
+2.25 2.26 
+
+2.35 2.36 
+
+2.45 2.46 
+
+2.55 2.56 
+
+2.65 2.66 
+
+2.75 2.76 
+
+2.85 2.86 
+
+2.95 2.96 
+
+
+
+1.7 1.8 
+
+1.17 1.18 
+
+1.27 1.28 
+
+1.37 1.38 
+
+
+
+2.7 2.8 
+
+2.17 2.18 
+
+2.27 2.28 
+
+2.37 2.38 
+
+2.47 2.48 
+
+2.57 2.58 
+
+2.67 2.68 
+
+2.77 2.78 
+
+2.87 2.88 
+2.97 
+
+
+
+1.9 1.10 
+
+1.19 1.20 
+
+1.29 1.30 
+
+1.39 1.40 
+
+
+
+2.9 2.10 
+
+2.19 2.20 
+
+2.29 2.30 
+
+2.39 2.40 
+
+2.49 2.50 
+
+2.59 2.60 
+
+2.69 2.70 
+
+2.79 2.80 
+
+2.89 2.90 
+
+
+
+844 
+
+
+
+Chapter 3 
+
+3.1 3.2 
+
+3.11 3.12 
+
+3.21 3.22 
+
+3.31 3.32 
+
+3.41 3.42 
+
+3.51 3.52 
+
+3.61 3.62 
+
+3.71 3.72 
+
+3.81 3.82 
+
+Chapter 4 
+
+4.1 4.2 
+
+4.11 4.12 
+
+4.21 4.22 
+
+4.31 4.32 
+
+4.41 4.42 
+
+4.51 4.52 
+
+4.61 4.62 
+
+4.71 4.72 
+
+Chapter 5 
+
+5.1 5.2 
+
+5.11 5.12 
+
+5.21 5.22 
+
+5.31 5.32 
+
+5.41 5.42 
+
+5.51 5.52 
+
+
+
+3.3 3.4 
+
+3.13 3.14 
+
+3.23 3.24 
+
+3.33 3.34 
+
+3.43 3.44 
+
+3.53 3.54 
+
+3.63 3.64 
+
+3.73 3.74 
+
+
+
+4.3 4.4 
+
+4.13 4.14 
+
+4.23 4.24 
+
+4.33 4.34 
+
+4.43 4.44 
+
+4.53 4.54 
+
+4.63 4.64 
+
+4.73 4.74 
+
+
+
+5.3 5.4 
+
+5.13 5.14 
+
+5.23 5.24 
+
+5.33 5.34 
+
+5.43 5.44 
+
+
+
+3.5 3.6 
+
+3.15 3.16 
+
+3.25 3.26 
+
+3.35 3.36 
+
+3.45 3.46 
+
+3.55 3.56 
+
+3.65 3.66 
+
+3.75 3.76 
+
+
+
+4.5 4.6 
+
+4.15 4.16 
+
+4.25 4.26 
+
+4.35 4.36 
+
+4.45 4.46 
+
+4.55 4.56 
+
+4.65 4.66 
+
+4.75 4.76 
+
+
+
+5.5 5.6 
+
+5.15 5.16 
+
+5.25 5.26 
+
+5.35 5.36 
+
+5.45 5.46 
+
+
+
+3.7 3.8 
+
+3.17 3.18 
+
+3.27 3.28 
+
+3.37 3.38 
+
+3.47 3.48 
+
+3.57 3.58 
+
+3.67 3.68 
+
+3.77 3.78 
+
+
+
+4.7 4.8 
+
+4.17 4.18 
+
+4.27 4.28 
+
+4.37 4.38 
+
+4.47 4.48 
+
+4.57 4.58 
+
+4.67 4.68 
+
+4.77 4.78 
+
+
+
+5.7 5.8 
+
+5.17 5.18 
+
+5.27 5.28 
+
+5.37 5.38 
+
+5.47 5.48 
+
+
+
+3.9 3.10 
+
+3.19 3.20 
+
+3.29 3.30 
+
+3.39 3.40 
+
+3.49 3.50 
+
+3.59 3.60 
+
+3.69 3.70 
+
+3.79 3.80 
+
+
+
+4.9 4.10 
+
+4.19 4.20 
+
+4.29 4.30 
+
+4.39 4.40 
+
+4.49 4.50 
+
+4.59 4.60 
+
+4.69 4.70 
+4.79 
+
+
+
+5.9 5.10 
+
+5.19 5.20 
+
+5.29 5.30 
+
+5.39 5.40 
+
+5.49 5.50 
+
+
+
+845 
+
+
+
+List of Figures 
+
+
+
+Chapter T 
+
+1.1 1.2 1.3 1.4 1.5 
+
+
+
+Chapter 2 
+
+
+
+2.1 2.2 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+.3 
+
+
+2.4 
+
+
+2.5 
+
+
+2.6 
+
+
+2.7 
+
+
+2.8 
+
+
+2.9 
+
+
+2.10 
+
+
+2.11 2.12 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+.13 
+
+
+2.14 
+
+
+2.15 
+
+
+2.16 
+
+
+2.17 
+
+
+2.18 
+
+
+2.19 
+
+
+2.20 
+
+
+2.21 2.22 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+.23 
+
+
+2.24 
+
+
+2.25 
+
+
+2.26 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+"hapter 3 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+3.1 3.2 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+.3 
+
+
+3.4 
+
+
+3.5 
+
+
+3.6 
+
+
+3.7 
+
+
+3.8 
+
+
+3.9 
+
+
+3.10 
+
+
+3.11 3.12 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+.13 
+
+
+3.14 
+
+
+3.15 
+
+
+3.16 
+
+
+3.17 
+
+
+3.18 
+
+
+3.19 
+
+
+3.20 
+
+
+3.21 3.22 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+.23 
+
+
+3.24 
+
+
+3.25 
+
+
+3.26 
+
+
+3.27 
+
+
+3.28 
+
+
+3.29 
+
+
+3.30 
+
+
+3.31 3.32 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+.33 
+
+
+3.34 
+
+
+3.35 
+
+
+3.36 
+
+
+3.37 
+
+
+3.38 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter 4 
+
+4.1 4.2 4.3 4.4 4.5 4.6 
+
+
+
+846 
+
+
+
+Chapter 5 
+
+5.1 5.2 5.3 5.4 5.5 5.6 5.7 5.8 5.9 5.10 
+5.11 5.12 5.13 5.14 5.15 5.16 5.17 5.18 
+
+
+
+847 
+
+
+
+Index 
+
+
+
+Any inaccuracies in this index may be explained by the fact 
+that it has been prepared with the help of a computer. 
+
+— Donald E. Knuth, Fundamental Algorithms 
+(Volume 1 of The Art of Computer Programming) 
+
+
+
+Symbols 
+
+fc-term finite continued fraction ... 95 
+
+
+
+fi-fold smoothed function 104 
+
+A 
+
+abstract models 123 
+
+abstract syntax 495 
+
+abstraction barriers Ill, 119 
+
+accumulator 156, 303 
+
+acquired 421 
+
+action 677 
+
+additive 243 
+
+additively 112, 230 
+
+address 724 
+
+address arithmetic 724 
+
+agenda 379 
+
+algebraic specification 123 
+
+aliasing 316 
+
+
+
+and-gate 370 
+
+applicative-order 542 
+
+applicative-order evaluation 21 
+
+arbiter 424 
+
+arguments 8 
+
+assembler 698 
+
+assertions 600 
+
+assignment operator 297 
+
+atomically 423 
+
+automatic storage allocation 723 
+
+average damping 94 
+
+B 
+
+B-trees 213 
+
+backbone 361 
+
+backquote 779 
+
+backtracks 564 
+
+balanced 151 
+
+
+
+848 
+
+
+
+barrier synchronization 427 
+
+base address 725 
+
+Bertrand's hypothesis 447 
+
+bignum 726 
+
+bindings 321 
+
+binds 36 
+
+binomial coefficients 54 
+
+block structure 39 
+
+bound variable 36 
+
+box-and-pointer notation 132 
+
+breakpoint 722 
+
+broken heart 735 
+
+bugs 2 
+
+c 
+
+cache-coherence 406 
+
+call-by-name 439, 545 
+
+call-by-name thunks 439 
+
+call-by-need 439, 545 
+
+call-by-need thunks 439 
+
+capturing 37 
+
+Carmichael numbers 69 
+
+case analysis 22 
+
+cell 422 
+
+chronological backtracking 564 
+
+Church numerals 126 
+
+Church-Turing thesis 524 
+
+clauses 23 
+
+closed world assumption 632 
+
+closure Ill 
+
+closure property 133 
+
+code generator 773 
+
+coerce 270 
+
+coercion 263 
+
+combinations 8 
+
+comments 168 
+
+
+
+compacting 734 
+
+compilation 768 
+
+compile-time environment 819 
+
+composition 103 
+
+compound data 108 
+
+compound data object 109 
+
+compound procedure 16 
+
+computability 523 
+
+computational process 1 
+
+concurrently 402 
+
+congruent modulo 67 
+
+connectors 387 
+
+consequent expression 23 
+
+constraint networks 387 
+
+constructors 113 
+
+continuation procedures 579 
+
+continued fraction 94 
+
+control structure 628 
+
+controller 668 
+
+conventional interfaces Ill, 154 
+
+current time 383 
+
+D 
+
+data 1, 122 
+
+data abstraction 109, 112 
+
+data paths 668 
+
+data-directed 231 
+
+data-directed programming . . 112, 243 
+
+deadlock 425 
+
+deadlock-recovery 426 
+
+debug 2 
+
+deep binding 517 
+
+deferred operations 44 
+
+delayed argument 472 
+
+delayed evaluation 296, 430 
+
+delayed object 434 
+
+
+
+849 
+
+
+
+dense 281 
+
+dependency-directed backtracking 565 
+
+depth-first search 564 
+
+deque 360 
+
+derived expressions 507 
+
+digital signals 370 
+
+dispatching on type 242 
+
+displacement number 818 
+
+dotted- tail notation 141 
+
+driver loop 520 
+
+E 
+
+empty list 137 
+
+encapsulated 300 
+
+enclosing environment 321 
+
+entry points 673 
+
+enumerator 156 
+
+environment 11 
+
+environment model 295 
+
+environments 321 
+
+Euclid's Algorithm 63 
+
+Euclidean ring 288 
+
+evaluating 7 
+
+evaluator 489 
+
+event-driven simulation 369 
+
+evlis tail recursion 748 
+
+execution procedure 535 
+
+explicit-control evaluator 741 
+
+expression 7 
+
+F 
+
+failure continuation 579 
+
+FIFO 354 
+
+filter 82, 156 
+
+first-class 102 
+
+fixed point 92 
+
+
+
+fixed-length 219 
+
+forcing 545 
+
+forwarding address 735 
+
+frame 616 
+
+frame coordinate map 182 
+
+frame number 818 
+
+framed-stack 746 
+
+frames 321 
+
+free 37 
+
+free list 729 
+
+front 353 
+
+full-adder 372 
+
+function boxes 370 
+
+functional programming 312 
+
+functional programming languages484 
+
+G 
+
+garbage 732 
+
+garbage collection 724, 732 
+
+garbage collector 342 
+
+garbage-collected 550 
+
+generic operations 112 
+
+generic procedures 224, 231 
+
+glitches 2 
+
+global 41, 321 
+
+global environment 11 
+
+golden ratio 49 
+
+grammar 572 
+
+H 
+
+half-adder 370 
+
+half-interval method 89 
+
+Halting Theorem 526 
+
+headed list 361 
+
+hiding principle 300 
+
+hierarchical 134 
+
+
+
+850 
+
+
+
+hierarchy of types 266 
+
+higher-order procedures 75 
+
+Horner's rule 162 
+
+I 
+
+imperative programming 317 
+
+indeterminates 275 
+
+index 725 
+
+indexing 617 
+
+instantiated with 604 
+
+instruction counting 721 
+
+instruction execution procedure . . 701 
+
+instruction sequence 775 
+
+instruction tracing 721 
+
+instructions 667, 673 
+
+integerizing factor 290 
+
+integers 7 
+
+integrator 465 
+
+interning 728 
+
+interpreter 3, 489 
+
+invariant quantity 60 
+
+inverter 370 
+
+iterative improvement 105 
+
+iterative process 44 
+
+K 
+
+key 217 
+
+L 
+
+labels 673 
+
+lazy evaluation 542 
+
+lexical address 818 
+
+lexical addressing 517 
+
+lexical scoping 39 
+
+linear iterative process 44 
+
+linear recursive process 44 
+
+
+
+linkage descriptor 774 
+
+list 135, 141 
+
+list structure 135 
+
+list-structured 116 
+
+list-structured memory 723 
+
+local evolution 40 
+
+local state variables 297 
+
+location 724 
+
+logic-programming 491 
+
+logical and 370 
+
+logical deductions 612 
+
+logical or 370 
+
+M 
+
+machine language 768 
+
+macro 507 
+
+map 156 
+
+mark-sweep 733 
+
+Memoization 368 
+
+memoization 53 
+
+memoize 545 
+
+merge 485 
+
+message passing 125, 253 
+
+message-passing 303 
+
+metacircular 492 
+
+Metalinguistic abstraction 489 
+
+Miller-Rabin test 73 
+
+modular 295 
+
+modulo 67 
+
+modus ponens 627 
+
+moments in time 402 
+
+Monte Carlo integration 309 
+
+Monte Carlo simulation 306 
+
+mutable data objects 341 
+
+mutators 341 
+
+mutex 421 
+
+
+
+851 
+
+
+
+mutual exclusion 421 
+
+N 
+
+native language 768 
+
+needed 777 
+
+networks 488 
+
+Newton's method 98 
+
+nil 137 
+
+non-computable 526 
+
+non-strict 543 
+
+nondeterministic 409 
+
+nondeterministic choice point .... 563 
+nondeterministic computing . 491, 559 
+
+normal-order 542 
+
+normal-order evaluation 21, 491 
+
+o 
+
+obarray 727 
+
+object program 768 
+
+objects 295 
+
+open-code 815 
+
+operands 8 
+
+operator 8, 533 
+
+or-gate 370 
+
+order of growth 54 
+
+ordinary 256 
+
+output prompt 520 
+
+P 
+
+package 245 
+
+painter 173 
+
+pair 115, 116 
+
+parse 571 
+
+Pascal's triangle 53 
+
+pattern 602 
+
+pattern matcher 616 
+
+
+
+pattern matching 616 
+
+pattern variable 602 
+
+pipelining 402 
+
+pointer 132 
+
+poly 276 
+
+power series 450 
+
+predicate 23 
+
+prefix 219 
+
+prefix code 219 
+
+prefix notation 8 
+
+pretty-printing 9 
+
+primitive constraints 387 
+
+probabilistic algorithms 70 
+
+procedural abstraction 35 
+
+procedural epistemology xxiii 
+
+procedure 45 
+
+procedure definitions 15 
+
+procedures 5 
+
+process 45 
+
+program 2 
+
+programming languages 2 
+
+prompt 520 
+
+pseudo-random 306 
+
+pseudodivision 290 
+
+pseudoremainder 290 
+
+Q 
+
+quasiquote 779 
+
+queries 598 
+
+query language 598 
+
+queue 353 
+
+quote 193 
+
+R 
+
+Ramanujan numbers 464 
+
+rational functions 287 
+
+
+
+852 
+
+
+
+RC circuit 466 
+
+read-eval-print loop 10 
+
+reader macro characters 657 
+
+real numbers 7 
+
+rear 353 
+
+recursion equations 3 
+
+Recursion theory 524 
+
+recursive 12, 33 
+
+recursive process 44 
+
+red-black trees 213 
+
+referentially transparent 315 
+
+register machine 667 
+
+register table 700 
+
+registers 667 
+
+released 421 
+
+remainder of 67 
+
+resolution principle 596 
+
+ripple-carry adder 376 
+
+robust 191 
+
+RSA algorithm 70 
+
+rules 599, 608 
+
+s 
+
+satisfy 604 
+
+scope 37 
+
+selectors 113 
+
+semaphore 421 
+
+separator code 219 
+
+sequence 134 
+
+sequence accelerator 455 
+
+sequences 81 
+
+serializer 411 
+
+serializers 412 
+
+series RLC circuit 475 
+
+shadow 321 
+
+shared 348 
+
+
+
+side-effect bugs 317 
+
+sieve of Eratosthenes 443 
+
+smoothing 104 
+
+source language 768 
+
+source program 768 
+
+sparse 281 
+
+special forms 14 
+
+stack 45, 689 
+
+state variables 44, 296 
+
+statements 777 
+
+stop-and-copy 733 
+
+stratified design 190 
+
+stream processing 22 
+
+streams 295, 429 
+
+strict 543 
+
+subroutine 683 
+
+substitution 20 
+
+substitution model 19 
+
+subtype 266 
+
+success continuation 579 
+
+summation of a series 77 
+
+summer 465 
+
+supertype 267 
+
+symbolic expressions Ill 
+
+syntactic sugar 15 
+
+syntax 494 
+
+systematically search 564 
+
+systems 488 
+
+T 
+
+tableau 456 
+
+tabulation 53, 368 
+
+tagged architectures 726 
+
+tail-recursive 46, 754 
+
+target 774 
+
+thrashing ix 
+
+
+
+853 
+
+
+
+thunk 545 
+
+thunks 545 
+
+time 401 
+
+time segments 382 
+
+tower 267 
+
+tree accumulation 13 
+
+tree recursion 47 
+
+trees 147 
+
+truth maintenance 565 
+
+Turing machine 523 
+
+type field 726 
+
+type tag 237 
+
+type tags 231 
+
+type-inferencing 478 
+
+typed pointers 725 
+
+u 
+
+unbound 321 
+
+unification 596, 616, 622 
+
+unification algorithm 596 
+
+
+
+univariate polynomials 275 
+
+universal machine 523 
+
+upward-compatible extension .... 554 
+
+V 
+
+value 10 
+
+value of a variable 321 
+
+values 193 
+
+variable 10 
+
+variable-length 219 
+
+vector 724 
+
+w 
+
+width 128 
+
+wires 370 
+
+wishful thinking 114 
+
+z 
+
+zero crossings 467 
+
+
+
+854 
+
+
+
+Colophon 
+
+
+
+ON the cover page is Agostino Ramelli's bookwheel mechanism 
+from 1588. It could be seen as an early hypertext navigation aid. 
+This image of the engraving is hosted by J. E. Johnson of New Gottland. 
+
+The typefaces are Linux Libertine for body text and Linux Biolinum 
+for headings, both by Philipp H. Poll. Typewriter face is Inconsolata 
+created by Raph Levien and supplemented by Dimosthenis Kaponis and 
+Takashi Tanigawa in the form of Inconsolata LGC. 
+
+Graphic design and typography are done by Andres Raba. Texinfo 
+source is converted to LaTeX by a Perl script and compiled to pdf by 
+XeLaTeX. Diagrams are drawn with Inkscape. 
+
+
+
+855 
+
+
+
diff --git a/year4/semester2/CT414/assignments/assignment2/data/war_and_peace.txt b/year4/semester2/CT414/assignments/assignment2/data/war_and_peace.txt
new file mode 100644
index 00000000..5eae1c54
--- /dev/null
+++ b/year4/semester2/CT414/assignments/assignment2/data/war_and_peace.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,63845 @@
+CHAPTER I
+
+"Well, Prince, so Genoa and Lucca are now just family estates of the
+Buonapartes. But I warn you, if you don't tell me that this means war,
+if you still try to defend the infamies and horrors perpetrated by that
+Antichrist--I really believe he is Antichrist--I will have nothing more
+to do with you and you are no longer my friend, no longer my 'faithful
+slave,' as you call yourself! But how do you do? I see I have frightened
+you--sit down and tell me all the news."
+
+It was in July, 1805, and the speaker was the well-known Anna Pavlovna
+Scherer, maid of honor and favorite of the Empress Marya Fedorovna. With
+these words she greeted Prince Vasili Kuragin, a man of high rank and
+importance, who was the first to arrive at her reception. Anna Pavlovna
+had had a cough for some days. She was, as she said, suffering from la
+grippe; grippe being then a new word in St. Petersburg, used only by the
+elite.
+
+All her invitations without exception, written in French, and delivered
+by a scarlet-liveried footman that morning, ran as follows:
+
+"If you have nothing better to do, Count (or Prince), and if the
+prospect of spending an evening with a poor invalid is not too terrible,
+I shall be very charmed to see you tonight between 7 and 10--Annette
+Scherer."
+
+"Heavens! what a virulent attack!" replied the prince, not in the least
+disconcerted by this reception. He had just entered, wearing an
+embroidered court uniform, knee breeches, and shoes, and had stars on
+his breast and a serene expression on his flat face. He spoke in that
+refined French in which our grandfathers not only spoke but thought, and
+with the gentle, patronizing intonation natural to a man of importance
+who had grown old in society and at court. He went up to Anna Pavlovna,
+kissed her hand, presenting to her his bald, scented, and shining head,
+and complacently seated himself on the sofa.
+
+"First of all, dear friend, tell me how you are. Set your friend's mind
+at rest," said he without altering his tone, beneath the politeness and
+affected sympathy of which indifference and even irony could be
+discerned.
+
+"Can one be well while suffering morally? Can one be calm in times like
+these if one has any feeling?" said Anna Pavlovna. "You are staying the
+whole evening, I hope?"
+
+"And the fete at the English ambassador's? Today is Wednesday. I must
+put in an appearance there," said the prince. "My daughter is coming for
+me to take me there."
+
+"I thought today's fete had been canceled. I confess all these
+festivities and fireworks are becoming wearisome."
+
+"If they had known that you wished it, the entertainment would have been
+put off," said the prince, who, like a wound-up clock, by force of habit
+said things he did not even wish to be believed.
+
+"Don't tease! Well, and what has been decided about Novosiltsev's
+dispatch? You know everything."
+
+"What can one say about it?" replied the prince in a cold, listless
+tone. "What has been decided? They have decided that Buonaparte has
+burnt his boats, and I believe that we are ready to burn ours."
+
+Prince Vasili always spoke languidly, like an actor repeating a stale
+part. Anna Pavlovna Scherer on the contrary, despite her forty years,
+overflowed with animation and impulsiveness. To be an enthusiast had
+become her social vocation and, sometimes even when she did not feel
+like it, she became enthusiastic in order not to disappoint the
+expectations of those who knew her. The subdued smile which, though it
+did not suit her faded features, always played round her lips expressed,
+as in a spoiled child, a continual consciousness of her charming defect,
+which she neither wished, nor could, nor considered it necessary, to
+correct.
+
+In the midst of a conversation on political matters Anna Pavlovna burst
+out:
+
+"Oh, don't speak to me of Austria. Perhaps I don't understand things,
+but Austria never has wished, and does not wish, for war. She is
+betraying us! Russia alone must save Europe. Our gracious sovereign
+recognizes his high vocation and will be true to it. That is the one
+thing I have faith in! Our good and wonderful sovereign has to perform
+the noblest role on earth, and he is so virtuous and noble that God will
+not forsake him. He will fulfill his vocation and crush the hydra of
+revolution, which has become more terrible than ever in the person of
+this murderer and villain! We alone must avenge the blood of the just
+one.... Whom, I ask you, can we rely on?... England with her commercial
+spirit will not and cannot understand the Emperor Alexander's loftiness
+of soul. She has refused to evacuate Malta. She wanted to find, and
+still seeks, some secret motive in our actions. What answer did
+Novosiltsev get? None. The English have not understood and cannot
+understand the self-abnegation of our Emperor who wants nothing for
+himself, but only desires the good of mankind. And what have they
+promised? Nothing! And what little they have promised they will not
+perform! Prussia has always declared that Buonaparte is invincible, and
+that all Europe is powerless before him.... And I don't believe a word
+that Hardenburg says, or Haugwitz either. This famous Prussian
+neutrality is just a trap. I have faith only in God and the lofty
+destiny of our adored monarch. He will save Europe!"
+
+She suddenly paused, smiling at her own impetuosity.
+
+"I think," said the prince with a smile, "that if you had been sent
+instead of our dear Wintzingerode you would have captured the King of
+Prussia's consent by assault. You are so eloquent. Will you give me a
+cup of tea?"
+
+"In a moment. A propos," she added, becoming calm again, "I am expecting
+two very interesting men tonight, le Vicomte de Mortemart, who is
+connected with the Montmorencys through the Rohans, one of the best
+French families. He is one of the genuine emigres, the good ones. And
+also the Abbe Morio. Do you know that profound thinker? He has been
+received by the Emperor. Had you heard?"
+
+"I shall be delighted to meet them," said the prince. "But tell me," he
+added with studied carelessness as if it had only just occurred to him,
+though the question he was about to ask was the chief motive of his
+visit, "is it true that the Dowager Empress wants Baron Funke to be
+appointed first secretary at Vienna? The baron by all accounts is a poor
+creature."
+
+Prince Vasili wished to obtain this post for his son, but others were
+trying through the Dowager Empress Marya Fedorovna to secure it for the
+baron.
+
+Anna Pavlovna almost closed her eyes to indicate that neither she nor
+anyone else had a right to criticize what the Empress desired or was
+pleased with.
+
+"Baron Funke has been recommended to the Dowager Empress by her sister,"
+was all she said, in a dry and mournful tone.
+
+As she named the Empress, Anna Pavlovna's face suddenly assumed an
+expression of profound and sincere devotion and respect mingled with
+sadness, and this occurred every time she mentioned her illustrious
+patroness. She added that Her Majesty had deigned to show Baron Funke
+beaucoup d'estime, and again her face clouded over with sadness.
+
+The prince was silent and looked indifferent. But, with the womanly and
+courtierlike quickness and tact habitual to her, Anna Pavlovna wished
+both to rebuke him (for daring to speak as he had done of a man
+recommended to the Empress) and at the same time to console him, so she
+said:
+
+"Now about your family. Do you know that since your daughter came out
+everyone has been enraptured by her? They say she is amazingly
+beautiful."
+
+The prince bowed to signify his respect and gratitude.
+
+"I often think," she continued after a short pause, drawing nearer to
+the prince and smiling amiably at him as if to show that political and
+social topics were ended and the time had come for intimate
+conversation--"I often think how unfairly sometimes the joys of life are
+distributed. Why has fate given you two such splendid children? I don't
+speak of Anatole, your youngest. I don't like him," she added in a tone
+admitting of no rejoinder and raising her eyebrows. "Two such charming
+children. And really you appreciate them less than anyone, and so you
+don't deserve to have them."
+
+And she smiled her ecstatic smile.
+
+"I can't help it," said the prince. "Lavater would have said I lack the
+bump of paternity."
+
+"Don't joke; I mean to have a serious talk with you. Do you know I am
+dissatisfied with your younger son? Between ourselves" (and her face
+assumed its melancholy expression), "he was mentioned at Her Majesty's
+and you were pitied...."
+
+The prince answered nothing, but she looked at him significantly,
+awaiting a reply. He frowned.
+
+"What would you have me do?" he said at last. "You know I did all a
+father could for their education, and they have both turned out fools.
+Hippolyte is at least a quiet fool, but Anatole is an active one. That
+is the only difference between them." He said this smiling in a way more
+natural and animated than usual, so that the wrinkles round his mouth
+very clearly revealed something unexpectedly coarse and unpleasant.
+
+"And why are children born to such men as you? If you were not a father
+there would be nothing I could reproach you with," said Anna Pavlovna,
+looking up pensively.
+
+"I am your faithful slave and to you alone I can confess that my
+children are the bane of my life. It is the cross I have to bear. That
+is how I explain it to myself. It can't be helped!"
+
+He said no more, but expressed his resignation to cruel fate by a
+gesture. Anna Pavlovna meditated.
+
+"Have you never thought of marrying your prodigal son Anatole?" she
+asked. "They say old maids have a mania for matchmaking, and though I
+don't feel that weakness in myself as yet, I know a little person who is
+very unhappy with her father. She is a relation of yours, Princess Mary
+Bolkonskaya."
+
+Prince Vasili did not reply, though, with the quickness of memory and
+perception befitting a man of the world, he indicated by a movement of
+the head that he was considering this information.
+
+"Do you know," he said at last, evidently unable to check the sad
+current of his thoughts, "that Anatole is costing me forty thousand
+rubles a year? And," he went on after a pause, "what will it be in five
+years, if he goes on like this?" Presently he added: "That's what we
+fathers have to put up with.... Is this princess of yours rich?"
+
+"Her father is very rich and stingy. He lives in the country. He is the
+well-known Prince Bolkonski who had to retire from the army under the
+late Emperor, and was nicknamed 'the King of Prussia.' He is very clever
+but eccentric, and a bore. The poor girl is very unhappy. She has a
+brother; I think you know him, he married Lise Meinen lately. He is an
+aide-de-camp of Kutuzov's and will be here tonight."
+
+"Listen, dear Annette," said the prince, suddenly taking Anna Pavlovna's
+hand and for some reason drawing it downwards. "Arrange that affair for
+me and I shall always be your most devoted slave-slafe with an f, as a
+village elder of mine writes in his reports. She is rich and of good
+family and that's all I want."
+
+And with the familiarity and easy grace peculiar to him, he raised the
+maid of honor's hand to his lips, kissed it, and swung it to and fro as
+he lay back in his armchair, looking in another direction.
+
+"Attendez," said Anna Pavlovna, reflecting, "I'll speak to Lise, young
+Bolkonski's wife, this very evening, and perhaps the thing can be
+arranged. It shall be on your family's behalf that I'll start my
+apprenticeship as old maid."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+Anna Pavlovna's drawing room was gradually filling. The highest
+Petersburg society was assembled there: people differing widely in age
+and character but alike in the social circle to which they belonged.
+Prince Vasili's daughter, the beautiful Helene, came to take her father
+to the ambassador's entertainment; she wore a ball dress and her badge
+as maid of honor. The youthful little Princess Bolkonskaya, known as la
+femme la plus seduisante de Petersbourg, * was also there. She had been
+married during the previous winter, and being pregnant did not go to any
+large gatherings, but only to small receptions. Prince Vasili's son,
+Hippolyte, had come with Mortemart, whom he introduced. The Abbe Morio
+and many others had also come.
+
+
+* The most fascinating woman in Petersburg.
+
+To each new arrival Anna Pavlovna said, "You have not yet seen my aunt,"
+or "You do not know my aunt?" and very gravely conducted him or her to a
+little old lady, wearing large bows of ribbon in her cap, who had come
+sailing in from another room as soon as the guests began to arrive; and
+slowly turning her eyes from the visitor to her aunt, Anna Pavlovna
+mentioned each one's name and then left them.
+
+Each visitor performed the ceremony of greeting this old aunt whom not
+one of them knew, not one of them wanted to know, and not one of them
+cared about; Anna Pavlovna observed these greetings with mournful and
+solemn interest and silent approval. The aunt spoke to each of them in
+the same words, about their health and her own, and the health of Her
+Majesty, "who, thank God, was better today." And each visitor, though
+politeness prevented his showing impatience, left the old woman with a
+sense of relief at having performed a vexatious duty and did not return
+to her the whole evening.
+
+The young Princess Bolkonskaya had brought some work in a gold-
+embroidered velvet bag. Her pretty little upper lip, on which a delicate
+dark down was just perceptible, was too short for her teeth, but it
+lifted all the more sweetly, and was especially charming when she
+occasionally drew it down to meet the lower lip. As is always the case
+with a thoroughly attractive woman, her defect--the shortness of her
+upper lip and her half-open mouth--seemed to be her own special and
+peculiar form of beauty. Everyone brightened at the sight of this pretty
+young woman, so soon to become a mother, so full of life and health, and
+carrying her burden so lightly. Old men and dull dispirited young ones
+who looked at her, after being in her company and talking to her a
+little while, felt as if they too were becoming, like her, full of life
+and health. All who talked to her, and at each word saw her bright smile
+and the constant gleam of her white teeth, thought that they were in a
+specially amiable mood that day.
+
+The little princess went round the table with quick, short, swaying
+steps, her workbag on her arm, and gaily spreading out her dress sat
+down on a sofa near the silver samovar, as if all she was doing was a
+pleasure to herself and to all around her. "I have brought my work,"
+said she in French, displaying her bag and addressing all present.
+"Mind, Annette, I hope you have not played a wicked trick on me," she
+added, turning to her hostess. "You wrote that it was to be quite a
+small reception, and just see how badly I am dressed." And she spread
+out her arms to show her short-waisted, lace-trimmed, dainty gray dress,
+girdled with a broad ribbon just below the breast.
+
+"Soyez tranquille, Lise, you will always be prettier than anyone else,"
+replied Anna Pavlovna.
+
+"You know," said the princess in the same tone of voice and still in
+French, turning to a general, "my husband is deserting me? He is going
+to get himself killed. Tell me what this wretched war is for?" she
+added, addressing Prince Vasili, and without waiting for an answer she
+turned to speak to his daughter, the beautiful Helene.
+
+"What a delightful woman this little princess is!" said Prince Vasili to
+Anna Pavlovna.
+
+One of the next arrivals was a stout, heavily built young man with
+close-cropped hair, spectacles, the light-colored breeches fashionable
+at that time, a very high ruffle, and a brown dress coat. This stout
+young man was an illegitimate son of Count Bezukhov, a well-known
+grandee of Catherine's time who now lay dying in Moscow. The young man
+had not yet entered either the military or civil service, as he had only
+just returned from abroad where he had been educated, and this was his
+first appearance in society. Anna Pavlovna greeted him with the nod she
+accorded to the lowest hierarchy in her drawing room. But in spite of
+this lowest-grade greeting, a look of anxiety and fear, as at the sight
+of something too large and unsuited to the place, came over her face
+when she saw Pierre enter. Though he was certainly rather bigger than
+the other men in the room, her anxiety could only have reference to the
+clever though shy, but observant and natural, expression which
+distinguished him from everyone else in that drawing room.
+
+"It is very good of you, Monsieur Pierre, to come and visit a poor
+invalid," said Anna Pavlovna, exchanging an alarmed glance with her aunt
+as she conducted him to her.
+
+Pierre murmured something unintelligible, and continued to look round as
+if in search of something. On his way to the aunt he bowed to the little
+princess with a pleased smile, as to an intimate acquaintance.
+
+Anna Pavlovna's alarm was justified, for Pierre turned away from the
+aunt without waiting to hear her speech about Her Majesty's health. Anna
+Pavlovna in dismay detained him with the words: "Do you know the Abbe
+Morio? He is a most interesting man."
+
+"Yes, I have heard of his scheme for perpetual peace, and it is very
+interesting but hardly feasible."
+
+"You think so?" rejoined Anna Pavlovna in order to say something and get
+away to attend to her duties as hostess. But Pierre now committed a
+reverse act of impoliteness. First he had left a lady before she had
+finished speaking to him, and now he continued to speak to another who
+wished to get away. With his head bent, and his big feet spread apart,
+he began explaining his reasons for thinking the abbe's plan chimerical.
+
+"We will talk of it later," said Anna Pavlovna with a smile.
+
+And having got rid of this young man who did not know how to behave, she
+resumed her duties as hostess and continued to listen and watch, ready
+to help at any point where the conversation might happen to flag. As the
+foreman of a spinning mill, when he has set the hands to work, goes
+round and notices here a spindle that has stopped or there one that
+creaks or makes more noise than it should, and hastens to check the
+machine or set it in proper motion, so Anna Pavlovna moved about her
+drawing room, approaching now a silent, now a too-noisy group, and by a
+word or slight rearrangement kept the conversational machine in steady,
+proper, and regular motion. But amid these cares her anxiety about
+Pierre was evident. She kept an anxious watch on him when he approached
+the group round Mortemart to listen to what was being said there, and
+again when he passed to another group whose center was the abbe.
+
+Pierre had been educated abroad, and this reception at Anna Pavlovna's
+was the first he had attended in Russia. He knew that all the
+intellectual lights of Petersburg were gathered there and, like a child
+in a toyshop, did not know which way to look, afraid of missing any
+clever conversation that was to be heard. Seeing the self-confident and
+refined expression on the faces of those present he was always expecting
+to hear something very profound. At last he came up to Morio. Here the
+conversation seemed interesting and he stood waiting for an opportunity
+to express his own views, as young people are fond of doing.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+Anna Pavlovna's reception was in full swing. The spindles hummed
+steadily and ceaselessly on all sides. With the exception of the aunt,
+beside whom sat only one elderly lady, who with her thin careworn face
+was rather out of place in this brilliant society, the whole company had
+settled into three groups. One, chiefly masculine, had formed round the
+abbe. Another, of young people, was grouped round the beautiful Princess
+Helene, Prince Vasili's daughter, and the little Princess Bolkonskaya,
+very pretty and rosy, though rather too plump for her age. The third
+group was gathered round Mortemart and Anna Pavlovna.
+
+The vicomte was a nice-looking young man with soft features and polished
+manners, who evidently considered himself a celebrity but out of
+politeness modestly placed himself at the disposal of the circle in
+which he found himself. Anna Pavlovna was obviously serving him up as a
+treat to her guests. As a clever maitre d'hotel serves up as a specially
+choice delicacy a piece of meat that no one who had seen it in the
+kitchen would have cared to eat, so Anna Pavlovna served up to her
+guests, first the vicomte and then the abbe, as peculiarly choice
+morsels. The group about Mortemart immediately began discussing the
+murder of the Duc d'Enghien. The vicomte said that the Duc d'Enghien had
+perished by his own magnanimity, and that there were particular reasons
+for Buonaparte's hatred of him.
+
+"Ah, yes! Do tell us all about it, Vicomte," said Anna Pavlovna, with a
+pleasant feeling that there was something a la Louis XV in the sound of
+that sentence: "Contez nous cela, Vicomte."
+
+The vicomte bowed and smiled courteously in token of his willingness to
+comply. Anna Pavlovna arranged a group round him, inviting everyone to
+listen to his tale.
+
+"The vicomte knew the duc personally," whispered Anna Pavlovna to one of
+the guests. "The vicomte is a wonderful raconteur," said she to another.
+"How evidently he belongs to the best society," said she to a third; and
+the vicomte was served up to the company in the choicest and most
+advantageous style, like a well-garnished joint of roast beef on a hot
+dish.
+
+The vicomte wished to begin his story and gave a subtle smile.
+
+"Come over here, Helene, dear," said Anna Pavlovna to the beautiful
+young princess who was sitting some way off, the center of another
+group.
+
+The princess smiled. She rose with the same unchanging smile with which
+she had first entered the room--the smile of a perfectly beautiful
+woman. With a slight rustle of her white dress trimmed with moss and
+ivy, with a gleam of white shoulders, glossy hair, and sparkling
+diamonds, she passed between the men who made way for her, not looking
+at any of them but smiling on all, as if graciously allowing each the
+privilege of admiring her beautiful figure and shapely shoulders, back,
+and bosom--which in the fashion of those days were very much exposed--
+and she seemed to bring the glamour of a ballroom with her as she moved
+toward Anna Pavlovna. Helene was so lovely that not only did she not
+show any trace of coquetry, but on the contrary she even appeared shy of
+her unquestionable and all too victorious beauty. She seemed to wish,
+but to be unable, to diminish its effect.
+
+"How lovely!" said everyone who saw her; and the vicomte lifted his
+shoulders and dropped his eyes as if startled by something extraordinary
+when she took her seat opposite and beamed upon him also with her
+unchanging smile.
+
+"Madame, I doubt my ability before such an audience," said he, smilingly
+inclining his head.
+
+The princess rested her bare round arm on a little table and considered
+a reply unnecessary. She smilingly waited. All the time the story was
+being told she sat upright, glancing now at her beautiful round arm,
+altered in shape by its pressure on the table, now at her still more
+beautiful bosom, on which she readjusted a diamond necklace. From time
+to time she smoothed the folds of her dress, and whenever the story
+produced an effect she glanced at Anna Pavlovna, at once adopted just
+the expression she saw on the maid of honor's face, and again relapsed
+into her radiant smile.
+
+The little princess had also left the tea table and followed Helene.
+
+"Wait a moment, I'll get my work.... Now then, what are you thinking
+of?" she went on, turning to Prince Hippolyte. "Fetch me my workbag."
+
+There was a general movement as the princess, smiling and talking
+merrily to everyone at once, sat down and gaily arranged herself in her
+seat.
+
+"Now I am all right," she said, and asking the vicomte to begin, she
+took up her work.
+
+Prince Hippolyte, having brought the workbag, joined the circle and
+moving a chair close to hers seated himself beside her.
+
+Le charmant Hippolyte was surprising by his extraordinary resemblance to
+his beautiful sister, but yet more by the fact that in spite of this
+resemblance he was exceedingly ugly. His features were like his
+sister's, but while in her case everything was lit up by a joyous, self-
+satisfied, youthful, and constant smile of animation, and by the
+wonderful classic beauty of her figure, his face on the contrary was
+dulled by imbecility and a constant expression of sullen self-
+confidence, while his body was thin and weak. His eyes, nose, and mouth
+all seemed puckered into a vacant, wearied grimace, and his arms and
+legs always fell into unnatural positions.
+
+"It's not going to be a ghost story?" said he, sitting down beside the
+princess and hastily adjusting his lorgnette, as if without this
+instrument he could not begin to speak.
+
+"Why no, my dear fellow," said the astonished narrator, shrugging his
+shoulders.
+
+"Because I hate ghost stories," said Prince Hippolyte in a tone which
+showed that he only understood the meaning of his words after he had
+uttered them.
+
+He spoke with such self-confidence that his hearers could not be sure
+whether what he said was very witty or very stupid. He was dressed in a
+dark-green dress coat, knee breeches of the color of cuisse de nymphe
+effrayee, as he called it, shoes, and silk stockings.
+
+The vicomte told his tale very neatly. It was an anecdote, then current,
+to the effect that the Duc d'Enghien had gone secretly to Paris to visit
+Mademoiselle George; that at her house he came upon Bonaparte, who also
+enjoyed the famous actress' favors, and that in his presence Napoleon
+happened to fall into one of the fainting fits to which he was subject,
+and was thus at the duc's mercy. The latter spared him, and this
+magnanimity Bonaparte subsequently repaid by death.
+
+The story was very pretty and interesting, especially at the point where
+the rivals suddenly recognized one another; and the ladies looked
+agitated.
+
+"Charming!" said Anna Pavlovna with an inquiring glance at the little
+princess.
+
+"Charming!" whispered the little princess, sticking the needle into her
+work as if to testify that the interest and fascination of the story
+prevented her from going on with it.
+
+The vicomte appreciated this silent praise and smiling gratefully
+prepared to continue, but just then Anna Pavlovna, who had kept a
+watchful eye on the young man who so alarmed her, noticed that he was
+talking too loudly and vehemently with the abbe, so she hurried to the
+rescue. Pierre had managed to start a conversation with the abbe about
+the balance of power, and the latter, evidently interested by the young
+man's simple-minded eagerness, was explaining his pet theory. Both were
+talking and listening too eagerly and too naturally, which was why Anna
+Pavlovna disapproved.
+
+"The means are... the balance of power in Europe and the rights of the
+people," the abbe was saying. "It is only necessary for one powerful
+nation like Russia--barbaric as she is said to be--to place herself
+disinterestedly at the head of an alliance having for its object the
+maintenance of the balance of power of Europe, and it would save the
+world!"
+
+"But how are you to get that balance?" Pierre was beginning.
+
+At that moment Anna Pavlovna came up and, looking severely at Pierre,
+asked the Italian how he stood Russian climate. The Italian's face
+instantly changed and assumed an offensively affected, sugary
+expression, evidently habitual to him when conversing with women.
+
+"I am so enchanted by the brilliancy of the wit and culture of the
+society, more especially of the feminine society, in which I have had
+the honor of being received, that I have not yet had time to think of
+the climate," said he.
+
+Not letting the abbe and Pierre escape, Anna Pavlovna, the more
+conveniently to keep them under observation, brought them into the
+larger circle.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+Just then another visitor entered the drawing room: Prince Andrew
+Bolkonski, the little princess' husband. He was a very handsome young
+man, of medium height, with firm, clearcut features. Everything about
+him, from his weary, bored expression to his quiet, measured step,
+offered a most striking contrast to his quiet, little wife. It was
+evident that he not only knew everyone in the drawing room, but had
+found them to be so tiresome that it wearied him to look at or listen to
+them. And among all these faces that he found so tedious, none seemed to
+bore him so much as that of his pretty wife. He turned away from her
+with a grimace that distorted his handsome face, kissed Anna Pavlovna's
+hand, and screwing up his eyes scanned the whole company.
+
+"You are off to the war, Prince?" said Anna Pavlovna.
+
+"General Kutuzov," said Bolkonski, speaking French and stressing the
+last syllable of the general's name like a Frenchman, "has been pleased
+to take me as an aide-de-camp...."
+
+"And Lise, your wife?"
+
+"She will go to the country."
+
+"Are you not ashamed to deprive us of your charming wife?"
+
+"Andre," said his wife, addressing her husband in the same coquettish
+manner in which she spoke to other men, "the vicomte has been telling us
+such a tale about Mademoiselle George and Buonaparte!"
+
+Prince Andrew screwed up his eyes and turned away. Pierre, who from the
+moment Prince Andrew entered the room had watched him with glad,
+affectionate eyes, now came up and took his arm. Before he looked round
+Prince Andrew frowned again, expressing his annoyance with whoever was
+touching his arm, but when he saw Pierre's beaming face he gave him an
+unexpectedly kind and pleasant smile.
+
+"There now!... So you, too, are in the great world?" said he to Pierre.
+
+"I knew you would be here," replied Pierre. "I will come to supper with
+you. May I?" he added in a low voice so as not to disturb the vicomte
+who was continuing his story.
+
+"No, impossible!" said Prince Andrew, laughing and pressing Pierre's
+hand to show that there was no need to ask the question. He wished to
+say something more, but at that moment Prince Vasili and his daughter
+got up to go and the two young men rose to let them pass.
+
+"You must excuse me, dear Vicomte," said Prince Vasili to the Frenchman,
+holding him down by the sleeve in a friendly way to prevent his rising.
+"This unfortunate fete at the ambassador's deprives me of a pleasure,
+and obliges me to interrupt you. I am very sorry to leave your
+enchanting party," said he, turning to Anna Pavlovna.
+
+His daughter, Princess Helene, passed between the chairs, lightly
+holding up the folds of her dress, and the smile shone still more
+radiantly on her beautiful face. Pierre gazed at her with rapturous,
+almost frightened, eyes as she passed him.
+
+"Very lovely," said Prince Andrew.
+
+"Very," said Pierre.
+
+In passing Prince Vasili seized Pierre's hand and said to Anna Pavlovna:
+"Educate this bear for me! He has been staying with me a whole month and
+this is the first time I have seen him in society. Nothing is so
+necessary for a young man as the society of clever women."
+
+Anna Pavlovna smiled and promised to take Pierre in hand. She knew his
+father to be a connection of Prince Vasili's. The elderly lady who had
+been sitting with the old aunt rose hurriedly and overtook Prince Vasili
+in the anteroom. All the affectation of interest she had assumed had
+left her kindly and tear-worn face and it now expressed only anxiety and
+fear.
+
+"How about my son Boris, Prince?" said she, hurrying after him into the
+anteroom. "I can't remain any longer in Petersburg. Tell me what news I
+may take back to my poor boy."
+
+Although Prince Vasili listened reluctantly and not very politely to the
+elderly lady, even betraying some impatience, she gave him an
+ingratiating and appealing smile, and took his hand that he might not go
+away.
+
+"What would it cost you to say a word to the Emperor, and then he would
+be transferred to the Guards at once?" said she.
+
+"Believe me, Princess, I am ready to do all I can," answered Prince
+Vasili, "but it is difficult for me to ask the Emperor. I should advise
+you to appeal to Rumyantsev through Prince Golitsyn. That would be the
+best way."
+
+The elderly lady was a Princess Drubetskaya, belonging to one of the
+best families in Russia, but she was poor, and having long been out of
+society had lost her former influential connections. She had now come to
+Petersburg to procure an appointment in the Guards for her only son. It
+was, in fact, solely to meet Prince Vasili that she had obtained an
+invitation to Anna Pavlovna's reception and had sat listening to the
+vicomte's story. Prince Vasili's words frightened her, an embittered
+look clouded her once handsome face, but only for a moment; then she
+smiled again and clutched Prince Vasili's arm more tightly.
+
+"Listen to me, Prince," said she. "I have never yet asked you for
+anything and I never will again, nor have I ever reminded you of my
+father's friendship for you; but now I entreat you for God's sake to do
+this for my son--and I shall always regard you as a benefactor," she
+added hurriedly. "No, don't be angry, but promise! I have asked Golitsyn
+and he has refused. Be the kindhearted man you always were," she said,
+trying to smile though tears were in her eyes.
+
+"Papa, we shall be late," said Princess Helene, turning her beautiful
+head and looking over her classically molded shoulder as she stood
+waiting by the door.
+
+Influence in society, however, is a capital which has to be economized
+if it is to last. Prince Vasili knew this, and having once realized that
+if he asked on behalf of all who begged of him, he would soon be unable
+to ask for himself, he became chary of using his influence. But in
+Princess Drubetskaya's case he felt, after her second appeal, something
+like qualms of conscience. She had reminded him of what was quite true;
+he had been indebted to her father for the first steps in his career.
+Moreover, he could see by her manners that she was one of those women--
+mostly mothers--who, having once made up their minds, will not rest
+until they have gained their end, and are prepared if necessary to go on
+insisting day after day and hour after hour, and even to make scenes.
+This last consideration moved him.
+
+"My dear Anna Mikhaylovna," said he with his usual familiarity and
+weariness of tone, "it is almost impossible for me to do what you ask;
+but to prove my devotion to you and how I respect your father's memory,
+I will do the impossible--your son shall be transferred to the Guards.
+Here is my hand on it. Are you satisfied?"
+
+"My dear benefactor! This is what I expected from you--I knew your
+kindness!" He turned to go.
+
+"Wait--just a word! When he has been transferred to the Guards..." she
+faltered. "You are on good terms with Michael Ilarionovich Kutuzov...
+recommend Boris to him as adjutant! Then I shall be at rest, and
+then..."
+
+Prince Vasili smiled.
+
+"No, I won't promise that. You don't know how Kutuzov is pestered since
+his appointment as Commander in Chief. He told me himself that all the
+Moscow ladies have conspired to give him all their sons as adjutants."
+
+"No, but do promise! I won't let you go! My dear benefactor..."
+
+"Papa," said his beautiful daughter in the same tone as before, "we
+shall be late."
+
+"Well, au revoir! Good-bye! You hear her?"
+
+"Then tomorrow you will speak to the Emperor?"
+
+"Certainly; but about Kutuzov, I don't promise."
+
+"Do promise, do promise, Vasili!" cried Anna Mikhaylovna as he went,
+with the smile of a coquettish girl, which at one time probably came
+naturally to her, but was now very ill-suited to her careworn face.
+
+Apparently she had forgotten her age and by force of habit employed all
+the old feminine arts. But as soon as the prince had gone her face
+resumed its former cold, artificial expression. She returned to the
+group where the vicomte was still talking, and again pretended to
+listen, while waiting till it would be time to leave. Her task was
+accomplished.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+"And what do you think of this latest comedy, the coronation at Milan?"
+asked Anna Pavlovna, "and of the comedy of the people of Genoa and Lucca
+laying their petitions before Monsieur Buonaparte, and Monsieur
+Buonaparte sitting on a throne and granting the petitions of the
+nations? Adorable! It is enough to make one's head whirl! It is as if
+the whole world had gone crazy."
+
+Prince Andrew looked Anna Pavlovna straight in the face with a sarcastic
+smile.
+
+"'Dieu me la donne, gare a qui la touche!' * They say he was very fine
+when he said that," he remarked, repeating the words in Italian: "'Dio
+mi l'ha dato. Guai a chi la tocchi!'"
+
+
+* God has given it to me, let him who touches it beware!
+
+"I hope this will prove the last drop that will make the glass run
+over," Anna Pavlovna continued. "The sovereigns will not be able to
+endure this man who is a menace to everything."
+
+"The sovereigns? I do not speak of Russia," said the vicomte, polite but
+hopeless: "The sovereigns, madame... What have they done for Louis XVII,
+for the Queen, or for Madame Elizabeth? Nothing!" and he became more
+animated. "And believe me, they are reaping the reward of their betrayal
+of the Bourbon cause. The sovereigns! Why, they are sending ambassadors
+to compliment the usurper."
+
+And sighing disdainfully, he again changed his position.
+
+Prince Hippolyte, who had been gazing at the vicomte for some time
+through his lorgnette, suddenly turned completely round toward the
+little princess, and having asked for a needle began tracing the Conde
+coat of arms on the table. He explained this to her with as much gravity
+as if she had asked him to do it.
+
+"Baton de gueules, engrele de gueules d'azur--maison Conde," said he.
+
+The princess listened, smiling.
+
+"If Buonaparte remains on the throne of France a year longer," the
+vicomte continued, with the air of a man who, in a matter with which he
+is better acquainted than anyone else, does not listen to others but
+follows the current of his own thoughts, "things will have gone too far.
+By intrigues, violence, exile, and executions, French society--I mean
+good French society--will have been forever destroyed, and then..."
+
+He shrugged his shoulders and spread out his hands. Pierre wished to
+make a remark, for the conversation interested him, but Anna Pavlovna,
+who had him under observation, interrupted:
+
+"The Emperor Alexander," said she, with the melancholy which always
+accompanied any reference of hers to the Imperial family, "has declared
+that he will leave it to the French people themselves to choose their
+own form of government; and I believe that once free from the usurper,
+the whole nation will certainly throw itself into the arms of its
+rightful king," she concluded, trying to be amiable to the royalist
+emigrant.
+
+"That is doubtful," said Prince Andrew. "Monsieur le Vicomte quite
+rightly supposes that matters have already gone too far. I think it will
+be difficult to return to the old regime."
+
+"From what I have heard," said Pierre, blushing and breaking into the
+conversation, "almost all the aristocracy has already gone over to
+Bonaparte's side."
+
+"It is the Buonapartists who say that," replied the vicomte without
+looking at Pierre. "At the present time it is difficult to know the real
+state of French public opinion."
+
+"Bonaparte has said so," remarked Prince Andrew with a sarcastic smile.
+
+It was evident that he did not like the vicomte and was aiming his
+remarks at him, though without looking at him.
+
+"'I showed them the path to glory, but they did not follow it,'" Prince
+Andrew continued after a short silence, again quoting Napoleon's words.
+"'I opened my antechambers and they crowded in.' I do not know how far
+he was justified in saying so."
+
+"Not in the least," replied the vicomte. "After the murder of the duc
+even the most partial ceased to regard him as a hero. If to some
+people," he went on, turning to Anna Pavlovna, "he ever was a hero,
+after the murder of the duc there was one martyr more in heaven and one
+hero less on earth."
+
+Before Anna Pavlovna and the others had time to smile their appreciation
+of the vicomte's epigram, Pierre again broke into the conversation, and
+though Anna Pavlovna felt sure he would say something inappropriate, she
+was unable to stop him.
+
+"The execution of the Duc d'Enghien," declared Monsieur Pierre, "was a
+political necessity, and it seems to me that Napoleon showed greatness
+of soul by not fearing to take on himself the whole responsibility of
+that deed."
+
+"Dieu! Mon Dieu!" muttered Anna Pavlovna in a terrified whisper.
+
+"What, Monsieur Pierre... Do you consider that assassination shows
+greatness of soul?" said the little princess, smiling and drawing her
+work nearer to her.
+
+"Oh! Oh!" exclaimed several voices.
+
+"Capital!" said Prince Hippolyte in English, and began slapping his knee
+with the palm of his hand.
+
+The vicomte merely shrugged his shoulders. Pierre looked solemnly at his
+audience over his spectacles and continued.
+
+"I say so," he continued desperately, "because the Bourbons fled from
+the Revolution leaving the people to anarchy, and Napoleon alone
+understood the Revolution and quelled it, and so for the general good,
+he could not stop short for the sake of one man's life."
+
+"Won't you come over to the other table?" suggested Anna Pavlovna.
+
+But Pierre continued his speech without heeding her.
+
+"No," cried he, becoming more and more eager, "Napoleon is great because
+he rose superior to the Revolution, suppressed its abuses, preserved all
+that was good in it--equality of citizenship and freedom of speech and
+of the press--and only for that reason did he obtain power."
+
+"Yes, if having obtained power, without availing himself of it to commit
+murder he had restored it to the rightful king, I should have called him
+a great man," remarked the vicomte.
+
+"He could not do that. The people only gave him power that he might rid
+them of the Bourbons and because they saw that he was a great man. The
+Revolution was a grand thing!" continued Monsieur Pierre, betraying by
+this desperate and provocative proposition his extreme youth and his
+wish to express all that was in his mind.
+
+"What? Revolution and regicide a grand thing?... Well, after that... But
+won't you come to this other table?" repeated Anna Pavlovna.
+
+"Rousseau's Contrat Social," said the vicomte with a tolerant smile.
+
+"I am not speaking of regicide, I am speaking about ideas."
+
+"Yes: ideas of robbery, murder, and regicide," again interjected an
+ironical voice.
+
+"Those were extremes, no doubt, but they are not what is most important.
+What is important are the rights of man, emancipation from prejudices,
+and equality of citizenship, and all these ideas Napoleon has retained
+in full force."
+
+"Liberty and equality," said the vicomte contemptuously, as if at last
+deciding seriously to prove to this youth how foolish his words were,
+"high-sounding words which have long been discredited. Who does not love
+liberty and equality? Even our Saviour preached liberty and equality.
+Have people since the Revolution become happier? On the contrary. We
+wanted liberty, but Buonaparte has destroyed it."
+
+Prince Andrew kept looking with an amused smile from Pierre to the
+vicomte and from the vicomte to their hostess. In the first moment of
+Pierre's outburst Anna Pavlovna, despite her social experience, was
+horror-struck. But when she saw that Pierre's sacrilegious words had not
+exasperated the vicomte, and had convinced herself that it was
+impossible to stop him, she rallied her forces and joined the vicomte in
+a vigorous attack on the orator.
+
+"But, my dear Monsieur Pierre," said she, "how do you explain the fact
+of a great man executing a duc--or even an ordinary man who--is innocent
+and untried?"
+
+"I should like," said the vicomte, "to ask how monsieur explains the
+18th Brumaire; was not that an imposture? It was a swindle, and not at
+all like the conduct of a great man!"
+
+"And the prisoners he killed in Africa? That was horrible!" said the
+little princess, shrugging her shoulders.
+
+"He's a low fellow, say what you will," remarked Prince Hippolyte.
+
+Pierre, not knowing whom to answer, looked at them all and smiled. His
+smile was unlike the half-smile of other people. When he smiled, his
+grave, even rather gloomy, look was instantaneously replaced by another-
+-a childlike, kindly, even rather silly look, which seemed to ask
+forgiveness.
+
+The vicomte who was meeting him for the first time saw clearly that this
+young Jacobin was not so terrible as his words suggested. All were
+silent.
+
+"How do you expect him to answer you all at once?" said Prince Andrew.
+"Besides, in the actions of a statesman one has to distinguish between
+his acts as a private person, as a general, and as an emperor. So it
+seems to me."
+
+"Yes, yes, of course!" Pierre chimed in, pleased at the arrival of this
+reinforcement.
+
+"One must admit," continued Prince Andrew, "that Napoleon as a man was
+great on the bridge of Arcola, and in the hospital at Jaffa where he
+gave his hand to the plague-stricken; but... but there are other acts
+which it is difficult to justify."
+
+Prince Andrew, who had evidently wished to tone down the awkwardness of
+Pierre's remarks, rose and made a sign to his wife that it was time to
+go.
+
+Suddenly Prince Hippolyte started up making signs to everyone to attend,
+and asking them all to be seated began:
+
+"I was told a charming Moscow story today and must treat you to it.
+Excuse me, Vicomte--I must tell it in Russian or the point will be
+lost...." And Prince Hippolyte began to tell his story in such Russian
+as a Frenchman would speak after spending about a year in Russia.
+Everyone waited, so emphatically and eagerly did he demand their
+attention to his story.
+
+"There is in Moscow a lady, une dame, and she is very stingy. She must
+have two footmen behind her carriage, and very big ones. That was her
+taste. And she had a lady's maid, also big. She said..."
+
+Here Prince Hippolyte paused, evidently collecting his ideas with
+difficulty.
+
+"She said... Oh yes! She said, 'Girl,' to the maid, 'put on a livery,
+get up behind the carriage, and come with me while I make some calls.'"
+
+Here Prince Hippolyte spluttered and burst out laughing long before his
+audience, which produced an effect unfavorable to the narrator. Several
+persons, among them the elderly lady and Anna Pavlovna, did however
+smile.
+
+"She went. Suddenly there was a great wind. The girl lost her hat and
+her long hair came down...." Here he could contain himself no longer and
+went on, between gasps of laughter: "And the whole world knew...."
+
+And so the anecdote ended. Though it was unintelligible why he had told
+it, or why it had to be told in Russian, still Anna Pavlovna and the
+others appreciated Prince Hippolyte's social tact in so agreeably ending
+Pierre's unpleasant and unamiable outburst. After the anecdote the
+conversation broke up into insignificant small talk about the last and
+next balls, about theatricals, and who would meet whom, and when and
+where.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+Having thanked Anna Pavlovna for her charming soiree, the guests began
+to take their leave.
+
+Pierre was ungainly. Stout, about the average height, broad, with huge
+red hands; he did not know, as the saying is, how to enter a drawing
+room and still less how to leave one; that is, how to say something
+particularly agreeable before going away. Besides this he was absent-
+minded. When he rose to go, he took up instead of his own, the general's
+three-cornered hat, and held it, pulling at the plume, till the general
+asked him to restore it. All his absent-mindedness and inability to
+enter a room and converse in it was, however, redeemed by his kindly,
+simple, and modest expression. Anna Pavlovna turned toward him and, with
+a Christian mildness that expressed forgiveness of his indiscretion,
+nodded and said: "I hope to see you again, but I also hope you will
+change your opinions, my dear Monsieur Pierre."
+
+When she said this, he did not reply and only bowed, but again everybody
+saw his smile, which said nothing, unless perhaps, "Opinions are
+opinions, but you see what a capital, good-natured fellow I am." And
+everyone, including Anna Pavlovna, felt this.
+
+Prince Andrew had gone out into the hall, and, turning his shoulders to
+the footman who was helping him on with his cloak, listened
+indifferently to his wife's chatter with Prince Hippolyte who had also
+come into the hall. Prince Hippolyte stood close to the pretty, pregnant
+princess, and stared fixedly at her through his eyeglass.
+
+"Go in, Annette, or you will catch cold," said the little princess,
+taking leave of Anna Pavlovna. "It is settled," she added in a low
+voice.
+
+Anna Pavlovna had already managed to speak to Lise about the match she
+contemplated between Anatole and the little princess' sister-in-law.
+
+"I rely on you, my dear," said Anna Pavlovna, also in a low tone. "Write
+to her and let me know how her father looks at the matter. Au revoir!"--
+and she left the hall.
+
+Prince Hippolyte approached the little princess and, bending his face
+close to her, began to whisper something.
+
+Two footmen, the princess' and his own, stood holding a shawl and a
+cloak, waiting for the conversation to finish. They listened to the
+French sentences which to them were meaningless, with an air of
+understanding but not wishing to appear to do so. The princess as usual
+spoke smilingly and listened with a laugh.
+
+"I am very glad I did not go to the ambassador's," said Prince Hippolyte
+"-so dull-. It has been a delightful evening, has it not? Delightful!"
+
+"They say the ball will be very good," replied the princess, drawing up
+her downy little lip. "All the pretty women in society will be there."
+
+"Not all, for you will not be there; not all," said Prince Hippolyte
+smiling joyfully; and snatching the shawl from the footman, whom he even
+pushed aside, he began wrapping it round the princess. Either from
+awkwardness or intentionally (no one could have said which) after the
+shawl had been adjusted he kept his arm around her for a long time, as
+though embracing her.
+
+Still smiling, she gracefully moved away, turning and glancing at her
+husband. Prince Andrew's eyes were closed, so weary and sleepy did he
+seem.
+
+"Are you ready?" he asked his wife, looking past her.
+
+Prince Hippolyte hurriedly put on his cloak, which in the latest fashion
+reached to his very heels, and, stumbling in it, ran out into the porch
+following the princess, whom a footman was helping into the carriage.
+
+"Princesse, au revoir," cried he, stumbling with his tongue as well as
+with his feet.
+
+The princess, picking up her dress, was taking her seat in the dark
+carriage, her husband was adjusting his saber; Prince Hippolyte, under
+pretense of helping, was in everyone's way.
+
+"Allow me, sir," said Prince Andrew in Russian in a cold, disagreeable
+tone to Prince Hippolyte who was blocking his path.
+
+"I am expecting you, Pierre," said the same voice, but gently and
+affectionately.
+
+The postilion started, the carriage wheels rattled. Prince Hippolyte
+laughed spasmodically as he stood in the porch waiting for the vicomte
+whom he had promised to take home.
+
+"Well, mon cher," said the vicomte, having seated himself beside
+Hippolyte in the carriage, "your little princess is very nice, very nice
+indeed, quite French," and he kissed the tips of his fingers. Hippolyte
+burst out laughing.
+
+"Do you know, you are a terrible chap for all your innocent airs,"
+continued the vicomte. "I pity the poor husband, that little officer who
+gives himself the airs of a monarch."
+
+Hippolyte spluttered again, and amid his laughter said, "And you were
+saying that the Russian ladies are not equal to the French? One has to
+know how to deal with them."
+
+Pierre reaching the house first went into Prince Andrew's study like one
+quite at home, and from habit immediately lay down on the sofa, took
+from the shelf the first book that came to his hand (it was Caesar's
+Commentaries), and resting on his elbow, began reading it in the middle.
+
+"What have you done to Mlle Scherer? She will be quite ill now," said
+Prince Andrew, as he entered the study, rubbing his small white hands.
+
+Pierre turned his whole body, making the sofa creak. He lifted his eager
+face to Prince Andrew, smiled, and waved his hand.
+
+"That abbe is very interesting but he does not see the thing in the
+right light.... In my opinion perpetual peace is possible but--I do not
+know how to express it... not by a balance of political power...."
+
+It was evident that Prince Andrew was not interested in such abstract
+conversation.
+
+"One can't everywhere say all one thinks, mon cher. Well, have you at
+last decided on anything? Are you going to be a guardsman or a
+diplomatist?" asked Prince Andrew after a momentary silence.
+
+Pierre sat up on the sofa, with his legs tucked under him.
+
+"Really, I don't yet know. I don't like either the one or the other."
+
+"But you must decide on something! Your father expects it."
+
+Pierre at the age of ten had been sent abroad with an abbe as tutor, and
+had remained away till he was twenty. When he returned to Moscow his
+father dismissed the abbe and said to the young man, "Now go to
+Petersburg, look round, and choose your profession. I will agree to
+anything. Here is a letter to Prince Vasili, and here is money. Write to
+me all about it, and I will help you in everything." Pierre had already
+been choosing a career for three months, and had not decided on
+anything. It was about this choice that Prince Andrew was speaking.
+Pierre rubbed his forehead.
+
+"But he must be a Freemason," said he, referring to the abbe whom he had
+met that evening.
+
+"That is all nonsense." Prince Andrew again interrupted him, "let us
+talk business. Have you been to the Horse Guards?"
+
+"No, I have not; but this is what I have been thinking and wanted to
+tell you. There is a war now against Napoleon. If it were a war for
+freedom I could understand it and should be the first to enter the army;
+but to help England and Austria against the greatest man in the world is
+not right."
+
+Prince Andrew only shrugged his shoulders at Pierre's childish words. He
+put on the air of one who finds it impossible to reply to such nonsense,
+but it would in fact have been difficult to give any other answer than
+the one Prince Andrew gave to this naive question.
+
+"If no one fought except on his own conviction, there would be no wars,"
+he said.
+
+"And that would be splendid," said Pierre.
+
+Prince Andrew smiled ironically.
+
+"Very likely it would be splendid, but it will never come about..."
+
+"Well, why are you going to the war?" asked Pierre.
+
+"What for? I don't know. I must. Besides that I am going..." He paused.
+"I am going because the life I am leading here does not suit me!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+The rustle of a woman's dress was heard in the next room. Prince Andrew
+shook himself as if waking up, and his face assumed the look it had had
+in Anna Pavlovna's drawing room. Pierre removed his feet from the sofa.
+The princess came in. She had changed her gown for a house dress as
+fresh and elegant as the other. Prince Andrew rose and politely placed a
+chair for her.
+
+"How is it," she began, as usual in French, settling down briskly and
+fussily in the easy chair, "how is it Annette never got married? How
+stupid you men all are not to have married her! Excuse me for saying so,
+but you have no sense about women. What an argumentative fellow you are,
+Monsieur Pierre!"
+
+"And I am still arguing with your husband. I can't understand why he
+wants to go to the war," replied Pierre, addressing the princess with
+none of the embarrassment so commonly shown by young men in their
+intercourse with young women.
+
+The princess started. Evidently Pierre's words touched her to the quick.
+
+"Ah, that is just what I tell him!" said she. "I don't understand it; I
+don't in the least understand why men can't live without wars. How is it
+that we women don't want anything of the kind, don't need it? Now you
+shall judge between us. I always tell him: Here he is Uncle's aide-de-
+camp, a most brilliant position. He is so well known, so much
+appreciated by everyone. The other day at the Apraksins' I heard a lady
+asking, 'Is that the famous Prince Andrew?' I did indeed." She laughed.
+"He is so well received everywhere. He might easily become aide-de-camp
+to the Emperor. You know the Emperor spoke to him most graciously.
+Annette and I were speaking of how to arrange it. What do you think?"
+
+Pierre looked at his friend and, noticing that he did not like the
+conversation, gave no reply.
+
+"When are you starting?" he asked.
+
+"Oh, don't speak of his going, don't! I won't hear it spoken of," said
+the princess in the same petulantly playful tone in which she had spoken
+to Hippolyte in the drawing room and which was so plainly ill-suited to
+the family circle of which Pierre was almost a member. "Today when I
+remembered that all these delightful associations must be broken off...
+and then you know, Andre..." (she looked significantly at her husband)
+"I'm afraid, I'm afraid!" she whispered, and a shudder ran down her
+back.
+
+Her husband looked at her as if surprised to notice that someone besides
+Pierre and himself was in the room, and addressed her in a tone of
+frigid politeness.
+
+"What is it you are afraid of, Lise? I don't understand," said he.
+
+"There, what egotists men all are: all, all egotists! Just for a whim of
+his own, goodness only knows why, he leaves me and locks me up alone in
+the country."
+
+"With my father and sister, remember," said Prince Andrew gently.
+
+"Alone all the same, without my friends.... And he expects me not to be
+afraid."
+
+Her tone was now querulous and her lip drawn up, giving her not a
+joyful, but an animal, squirrel-like expression. She paused as if she
+felt it indecorous to speak of her pregnancy before Pierre, though the
+gist of the matter lay in that.
+
+"I still can't understand what you are afraid of," said Prince Andrew
+slowly, not taking his eyes off his wife.
+
+The princess blushed, and raised her arms with a gesture of despair.
+
+"No, Andrew, I must say you have changed. Oh, how you have..."
+
+"Your doctor tells you to go to bed earlier," said Prince Andrew. "You
+had better go."
+
+The princess said nothing, but suddenly her short downy lip quivered.
+Prince Andrew rose, shrugged his shoulders, and walked about the room.
+
+Pierre looked over his spectacles with naive surprise, now at him and
+now at her, moved as if about to rise too, but changed his mind.
+
+"Why should I mind Monsieur Pierre being here?" exclaimed the little
+princess suddenly, her pretty face all at once distorted by a tearful
+grimace. "I have long wanted to ask you, Andrew, why you have changed so
+to me? What have I done to you? You are going to the war and have no
+pity for me. Why is it?"
+
+"Lise!" was all Prince Andrew said. But that one word expressed an
+entreaty, a threat, and above all conviction that she would herself
+regret her words. But she went on hurriedly:
+
+"You treat me like an invalid or a child. I see it all! Did you behave
+like that six months ago?"
+
+"Lise, I beg you to desist," said Prince Andrew still more emphatically.
+
+Pierre, who had been growing more and more agitated as he listened to
+all this, rose and approached the princess. He seemed unable to bear the
+sight of tears and was ready to cry himself.
+
+"Calm yourself, Princess! It seems so to you because... I assure you I
+myself have experienced... and so... because... No, excuse me! An
+outsider is out of place here... No, don't distress yourself... Good-
+bye!"
+
+Prince Andrew caught him by the hand.
+
+"No, wait, Pierre! The princess is too kind to wish to deprive me of the
+pleasure of spending the evening with you."
+
+"No, he thinks only of himself," muttered the princess without
+restraining her angry tears.
+
+"Lise!" said Prince Andrew dryly, raising his voice to the pitch which
+indicates that patience is exhausted.
+
+Suddenly the angry, squirrel-like expression of the princess' pretty
+face changed into a winning and piteous look of fear. Her beautiful eyes
+glanced askance at her husband's face, and her own assumed the timid,
+deprecating expression of a dog when it rapidly but feebly wags its
+drooping tail.
+
+"Mon Dieu, mon Dieu!" she muttered, and lifting her dress with one hand
+she went up to her husband and kissed him on the forehead.
+
+"Good night, Lise," said he, rising and courteously kissing her hand as
+he would have done to a stranger.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+The friends were silent. Neither cared to begin talking. Pierre
+continually glanced at Prince Andrew; Prince Andrew rubbed his forehead
+with his small hand.
+
+"Let us go and have supper," he said with a sigh, going to the door.
+
+They entered the elegant, newly decorated, and luxurious dining room.
+Everything from the table napkins to the silver, china, and glass bore
+that imprint of newness found in the households of the newly married.
+Halfway through supper Prince Andrew leaned his elbows on the table and,
+with a look of nervous agitation such as Pierre had never before seen on
+his face, began to talk--as one who has long had something on his mind
+and suddenly determines to speak out.
+
+"Never, never marry, my dear fellow! That's my advice: never marry till
+you can say to yourself that you have done all you are capable of, and
+until you have ceased to love the woman of your choice and have seen her
+plainly as she is, or else you will make a cruel and irrevocable
+mistake. Marry when you are old and good for nothing--or all that is
+good and noble in you will be lost. It will all be wasted on trifles.
+Yes! Yes! Yes! Don't look at me with such surprise. If you marry
+expecting anything from yourself in the future, you will feel at every
+step that for you all is ended, all is closed except the drawing room,
+where you will be ranged side by side with a court lackey and an
+idiot!... But what's the good?..." and he waved his arm.
+
+Pierre took off his spectacles, which made his face seem different and
+the good-natured expression still more apparent, and gazed at his friend
+in amazement.
+
+"My wife," continued Prince Andrew, "is an excellent woman, one of those
+rare women with whom a man's honor is safe; but, O God, what would I not
+give now to be unmarried! You are the first and only one to whom I
+mention this, because I like you."
+
+As he said this Prince Andrew was less than ever like that Bolkonski who
+had lolled in Anna Pavlovna's easy chairs and with half-closed eyes had
+uttered French phrases between his teeth. Every muscle of his thin face
+was now quivering with nervous excitement; his eyes, in which the fire
+of life had seemed extinguished, now flashed with brilliant light. It
+was evident that the more lifeless he seemed at ordinary times, the more
+impassioned he became in these moments of almost morbid irritation.
+
+"You don't understand why I say this," he continued, "but it is the
+whole story of life. You talk of Bonaparte and his career," said he
+(though Pierre had not mentioned Bonaparte), "but Bonaparte when he
+worked went step by step toward his goal. He was free, he had nothing
+but his aim to consider, and he reached it. But tie yourself up with a
+woman and, like a chained convict, you lose all freedom! And all you
+have of hope and strength merely weighs you down and torments you with
+regret. Drawing rooms, gossip, balls, vanity, and triviality--these are
+the enchanted circle I cannot escape from. I am now going to the war,
+the greatest war there ever was, and I know nothing and am fit for
+nothing. I am very amiable and have a caustic wit," continued Prince
+Andrew, "and at Anna Pavlovna's they listen to me. And that stupid set
+without whom my wife cannot exist, and those women... If you only knew
+what those society women are, and women in general! My father is right.
+Selfish, vain, stupid, trivial in everything--that's what women are when
+you see them in their true colors! When you meet them in society it
+seems as if there were something in them, but there's nothing, nothing,
+nothing! No, don't marry, my dear fellow; don't marry!" concluded Prince
+Andrew.
+
+"It seems funny to me," said Pierre, "that you, you should consider
+yourself incapable and your life a spoiled life. You have everything
+before you, everything. And you..."
+
+He did not finish his sentence, but his tone showed how highly he
+thought of his friend and how much he expected of him in the future.
+
+"How can he talk like that?" thought Pierre. He considered his friend a
+model of perfection because Prince Andrew possessed in the highest
+degree just the very qualities Pierre lacked, and which might be best
+described as strength of will. Pierre was always astonished at Prince
+Andrew's calm manner of treating everybody, his extraordinary memory,
+his extensive reading (he had read everything, knew everything, and had
+an opinion about everything), but above all at his capacity for work and
+study. And if Pierre was often struck by Andrew's lack of capacity for
+philosophical meditation (to which he himself was particularly
+addicted), he regarded even this not as a defect but as a sign of
+strength.
+
+Even in the best, most friendly and simplest relations of life, praise
+and commendation are essential, just as grease is necessary to wheels
+that they may run smoothly.
+
+"My part is played out," said Prince Andrew. "What's the use of talking
+about me? Let us talk about you," he added after a silence, smiling at
+his reassuring thoughts.
+
+That smile was immediately reflected on Pierre's face.
+
+"But what is there to say about me?" said Pierre, his face relaxing into
+a careless, merry smile. "What am I? An illegitimate son!" He suddenly
+blushed crimson, and it was plain that he had made a great effort to say
+this. "Without a name and without means... And it really..." But he did
+not say what "it really" was. "For the present I am free and am all
+right. Only I haven't the least idea what I am to do; I wanted to
+consult you seriously."
+
+Prince Andrew looked kindly at him, yet his glance--friendly and
+affectionate as it was--expressed a sense of his own superiority.
+
+"I am fond of you, especially as you are the one live man among our
+whole set. Yes, you're all right! Choose what you will; it's all the
+same. You'll be all right anywhere. But look here: give up visiting
+those Kuragins and leading that sort of life. It suits you so badly--all
+this debauchery, dissipation, and the rest of it!"
+
+"What would you have, my dear fellow?" answered Pierre, shrugging his
+shoulders. "Women, my dear fellow; women!"
+
+"I don't understand it," replied Prince Andrew. "Women who are comme il
+faut, that's a different matter; but the Kuragins' set of women, 'women
+and wine' I don't understand!"
+
+Pierre was staying at Prince Vasili Kuragin's and sharing the dissipated
+life of his son Anatole, the son whom they were planning to reform by
+marrying him to Prince Andrew's sister.
+
+"Do you know?" said Pierre, as if suddenly struck by a happy thought,
+"seriously, I have long been thinking of it.... Leading such a life I
+can't decide or think properly about anything. One's head aches, and one
+spends all one's money. He asked me for tonight, but I won't go."
+
+"You give me your word of honor not to go?"
+
+"On my honor!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+It was past one o'clock when Pierre left his friend. It was a cloudless,
+northern, summer night. Pierre took an open cab intending to drive
+straight home. But the nearer he drew to the house the more he felt the
+impossibility of going to sleep on such a night. It was light enough to
+see a long way in the deserted street and it seemed more like morning or
+evening than night. On the way Pierre remembered that Anatole Kuragin
+was expecting the usual set for cards that evening, after which there
+was generally a drinking bout, finishing with visits of a kind Pierre
+was very fond of.
+
+"I should like to go to Kuragin's," thought he.
+
+But he immediately recalled his promise to Prince Andrew not to go
+there. Then, as happens to people of weak character, he desired so
+passionately once more to enjoy that dissipation he was so accustomed to
+that he decided to go. The thought immediately occurred to him that his
+promise to Prince Andrew was of no account, because before he gave it he
+had already promised Prince Anatole to come to his gathering; "besides,"
+thought he, "all such 'words of honor' are conventional things with no
+definite meaning, especially if one considers that by tomorrow one may
+be dead, or something so extraordinary may happen to one that honor and
+dishonor will be all the same!" Pierre often indulged in reflections of
+this sort, nullifying all his decisions and intentions. He went to
+Kuragin's.
+
+Reaching the large house near the Horse Guards' barracks, in which
+Anatole lived, Pierre entered the lighted porch, ascended the stairs,
+and went in at the open door. There was no one in the anteroom; empty
+bottles, cloaks, and overshoes were lying about; there was a smell of
+alcohol, and sounds of voices and shouting in the distance.
+
+Cards and supper were over, but the visitors had not yet dispersed.
+Pierre threw off his cloak and entered the first room, in which were the
+remains of supper. A footman, thinking no one saw him, was drinking on
+the sly what was left in the glasses. From the third room came sounds of
+laughter, the shouting of familiar voices, the growling of a bear, and
+general commotion. Some eight or nine young men were crowding anxiously
+round an open window. Three others were romping with a young bear, one
+pulling him by the chain and trying to set him at the others.
+
+"I bet a hundred on Stevens!" shouted one.
+
+"Mind, no holding on!" cried another.
+
+"I bet on Dolokhov!" cried a third. "Kuragin, you part our hands."
+
+"There, leave Bruin alone; here's a bet on."
+
+"At one draught, or he loses!" shouted a fourth.
+
+"Jacob, bring a bottle!" shouted the host, a tall, handsome fellow who
+stood in the midst of the group, without a coat, and with his fine linen
+shirt unfastened in front. "Wait a bit, you fellows.... Here is Petya!
+Good man!" cried he, addressing Pierre.
+
+Another voice, from a man of medium height with clear blue eyes,
+particularly striking among all these drunken voices by its sober ring,
+cried from the window: "Come here; part the bets!" This was Dolokhov, an
+officer of the Semenov regiment, a notorious gambler and duelist, who
+was living with Anatole. Pierre smiled, looking about him merrily.
+
+"I don't understand. What's it all about?"
+
+"Wait a bit, he is not drunk yet! A bottle here," said Anatole, taking a
+glass from the table he went up to Pierre.
+
+"First of all you must drink!"
+
+Pierre drank one glass after another, looking from under his brows at
+the tipsy guests who were again crowding round the window, and listening
+to their chatter. Anatole kept on refilling Pierre's glass while
+explaining that Dolokhov was betting with Stevens, an English naval
+officer, that he would drink a bottle of rum sitting on the outer ledge
+of the third floor window with his legs hanging out.
+
+"Go on, you must drink it all," said Anatole, giving Pierre the last
+glass, "or I won't let you go!"
+
+"No, I won't," said Pierre, pushing Anatole aside, and he went up to the
+window.
+
+Dolokhov was holding the Englishman's hand and clearly and distinctly
+repeating the terms of the bet, addressing himself particularly to
+Anatole and Pierre.
+
+Dolokhov was of medium height, with curly hair and light-blue eyes. He
+was about twenty-five. Like all infantry officers he wore no mustache,
+so that his mouth, the most striking feature of his face, was clearly
+seen. The lines of that mouth were remarkably finely curved. The middle
+of the upper lip formed a sharp wedge and closed firmly on the firm
+lower one, and something like two distinct smiles played continually
+round the two corners of the mouth; this, together with the resolute,
+insolent intelligence of his eyes, produced an effect which made it
+impossible not to notice his face. Dolokhov was a man of small means and
+no connections. Yet, though Anatole spent tens of thousands of rubles,
+Dolokhov lived with him and had placed himself on such a footing that
+all who knew them, including Anatole himself, respected him more than
+they did Anatole. Dolokhov could play all games and nearly always won.
+However much he drank, he never lost his clearheadedness. Both Kuragin
+and Dolokhov were at that time notorious among the rakes and scapegraces
+of Petersburg.
+
+The bottle of rum was brought. The window frame which prevented anyone
+from sitting on the outer sill was being forced out by two footmen, who
+were evidently flurried and intimidated by the directions and shouts of
+the gentlemen around.
+
+Anatole with his swaggering air strode up to the window. He wanted to
+smash something. Pushing away the footmen he tugged at the frame, but
+could not move it. He smashed a pane.
+
+"You have a try, Hercules," said he, turning to Pierre.
+
+Pierre seized the crossbeam, tugged, and wrenched the oak frame out with
+a crash.
+
+"Take it right out, or they'll think I'm holding on," said Dolokhov.
+
+"Is the Englishman bragging?... Eh? Is it all right?" said Anatole.
+
+"First-rate," said Pierre, looking at Dolokhov, who with a bottle of rum
+in his hand was approaching the window, from which the light of the sky,
+the dawn merging with the afterglow of sunset, was visible.
+
+Dolokhov, the bottle of rum still in his hand, jumped onto the window
+sill. "Listen!" cried he, standing there and addressing those in the
+room. All were silent.
+
+"I bet fifty imperials"--he spoke French that the Englishman might
+understand him, but he did not speak it very well--"I bet fifty
+imperials... or do you wish to make it a hundred?" added he, addressing
+the Englishman.
+
+"No, fifty," replied the latter.
+
+"All right. Fifty imperials... that I will drink a whole bottle of rum
+without taking it from my mouth, sitting outside the window on this
+spot" (he stooped and pointed to the sloping ledge outside the window)
+"and without holding on to anything. Is that right?"
+
+"Quite right," said the Englishman.
+
+Anatole turned to the Englishman and taking him by one of the buttons of
+his coat and looking down at him--the Englishman was short--began
+repeating the terms of the wager to him in English.
+
+"Wait!" cried Dolokhov, hammering with the bottle on the window sill to
+attract attention. "Wait a bit, Kuragin. Listen! If anyone else does the
+same, I will pay him a hundred imperials. Do you understand?"
+
+The Englishman nodded, but gave no indication whether he intended to
+accept this challenge or not. Anatole did not release him, and though he
+kept nodding to show that he understood, Anatole went on translating
+Dolokhov's words into English. A thin young lad, an hussar of the Life
+Guards, who had been losing that evening, climbed on the window sill,
+leaned over, and looked down.
+
+"Oh! Oh! Oh!" he muttered, looking down from the window at the stones of
+the pavement.
+
+"Shut up!" cried Dolokhov, pushing him away from the window. The lad
+jumped awkwardly back into the room, tripping over his spurs.
+
+Placing the bottle on the window sill where he could reach it easily,
+Dolokhov climbed carefully and slowly through the window and lowered his
+legs. Pressing against both sides of the window, he adjusted himself on
+his seat, lowered his hands, moved a little to the right and then to the
+left, and took up the bottle. Anatole brought two candles and placed
+them on the window sill, though it was already quite light. Dolokhov's
+back in his white shirt, and his curly head, were lit up from both
+sides. Everyone crowded to the window, the Englishman in front. Pierre
+stood smiling but silent. One man, older than the others present,
+suddenly pushed forward with a scared and angry look and wanted to seize
+hold of Dolokhov's shirt.
+
+"I say, this is folly! He'll be killed," said this more sensible man.
+
+Anatole stopped him.
+
+"Don't touch him! You'll startle him and then he'll be killed. Eh?...
+What then?... Eh?"
+
+Dolokhov turned round and, again holding on with both hands, arranged
+himself on his seat.
+
+"If anyone comes meddling again," said he, emitting the words separately
+through his thin compressed lips, "I will throw him down there. Now
+then!"
+
+Saying this he again turned round, dropped his hands, took the bottle
+and lifted it to his lips, threw back his head, and raised his free hand
+to balance himself. One of the footmen who had stooped to pick up some
+broken glass remained in that position without taking his eyes from the
+window and from Dolokhov's back. Anatole stood erect with staring eyes.
+The Englishman looked on sideways, pursing up his lips. The man who had
+wished to stop the affair ran to a corner of the room and threw himself
+on a sofa with his face to the wall. Pierre hid his face, from which a
+faint smile forgot to fade though his features now expressed horror and
+fear. All were still. Pierre took his hands from his eyes. Dolokhov
+still sat in the same position, only his head was thrown further back
+till his curly hair touched his shirt collar, and the hand holding the
+bottle was lifted higher and higher and trembled with the effort. The
+bottle was emptying perceptibly and rising still higher and his head
+tilting yet further back. "Why is it so long?" thought Pierre. It seemed
+to him that more than half an hour had elapsed. Suddenly Dolokhov made a
+backward movement with his spine, and his arm trembled nervously; this
+was sufficient to cause his whole body to slip as he sat on the sloping
+ledge. As he began slipping down, his head and arm wavered still more
+with the strain. One hand moved as if to clutch the window sill, but
+refrained from touching it. Pierre again covered his eyes and thought he
+would never open them again. Suddenly he was aware of a stir all around.
+He looked up: Dolokhov was standing on the window sill, with a pale but
+radiant face.
+
+"It's empty."
+
+He threw the bottle to the Englishman, who caught it neatly. Dolokhov
+jumped down. He smelt strongly of rum.
+
+"Well done!... Fine fellow!... There's a bet for you!... Devil take
+you!" came from different sides.
+
+The Englishman took out his purse and began counting out the money.
+Dolokhov stood frowning and did not speak. Pierre jumped upon the window
+sill.
+
+"Gentlemen, who wishes to bet with me? I'll do the same thing!" he
+suddenly cried. "Even without a bet, there! Tell them to bring me a
+bottle. I'll do it.... Bring a bottle!"
+
+"Let him do it, let him do it," said Dolokhov, smiling.
+
+"What next? Have you gone mad?... No one would let you!... Why, you go
+giddy even on a staircase," exclaimed several voices.
+
+"I'll drink it! Let's have a bottle of rum!" shouted Pierre, banging the
+table with a determined and drunken gesture and preparing to climb out
+of the window.
+
+They seized him by his arms; but he was so strong that everyone who
+touched him was sent flying.
+
+"No, you'll never manage him that way," said Anatole. "Wait a bit and
+I'll get round him.... Listen! I'll take your bet tomorrow, but now we
+are all going to ----'s."
+
+"Come on then," cried Pierre. "Come on!... And we'll take Bruin with
+us."
+
+And he caught the bear, took it in his arms, lifted it from the ground,
+and began dancing round the room with it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+Prince Vasili kept the promise he had given to Princess Drubetskaya who
+had spoken to him on behalf of her only son Boris on the evening of Anna
+Pavlovna's soiree. The matter was mentioned to the Emperor, an exception
+made, and Boris transferred into the regiment of Semenov Guards with the
+rank of cornet. He received, however, no appointment to Kutuzov's staff
+despite all Anna Mikhaylovna's endeavors and entreaties. Soon after Anna
+Pavlovna's reception Anna Mikhaylovna returned to Moscow and went
+straight to her rich relations, the Rostovs, with whom she stayed when
+in the town and where her darling Bory, who had only just entered a
+regiment of the line and was being at once transferred to the Guards as
+a cornet, had been educated from childhood and lived for years at a
+time. The Guards had already left Petersburg on the tenth of August, and
+her son, who had remained in Moscow for his equipment, was to join them
+on the march to Radzivilov.
+
+It was St. Natalia's day and the name day of two of the Rostovs--the
+mother and the youngest daughter--both named Nataly. Ever since the
+morning, carriages with six horses had been coming and going
+continually, bringing visitors to the Countess Rostova's big house on
+the Povarskaya, so well known to all Moscow. The countess herself and
+her handsome eldest daughter were in the drawing-room with the visitors
+who came to congratulate, and who constantly succeeded one another in
+relays.
+
+The countess was a woman of about forty-five, with a thin Oriental type
+of face, evidently worn out with childbearing--she had had twelve. A
+languor of motion and speech, resulting from weakness, gave her a
+distinguished air which inspired respect. Princess Anna Mikhaylovna
+Drubetskaya, who as a member of the household was also seated in the
+drawing room, helped to receive and entertain the visitors. The young
+people were in one of the inner rooms, not considering it necessary to
+take part in receiving the visitors. The count met the guests and saw
+them off, inviting them all to dinner.
+
+"I am very, very grateful to you, mon cher," or "ma chere"--he called
+everyone without exception and without the slightest variation in his
+tone, "my dear," whether they were above or below him in rank--"I thank
+you for myself and for our two dear ones whose name day we are keeping.
+But mind you come to dinner or I shall be offended, ma chere! On behalf
+of the whole family I beg you to come, mon cher!" These words he
+repeated to everyone without exception or variation, and with the same
+expression on his full, cheerful, clean-shaven face, the same firm
+pressure of the hand and the same quick, repeated bows. As soon as he
+had seen a visitor off he returned to one of those who were still in the
+drawing room, drew a chair toward him or her, and jauntily spreading out
+his legs and putting his hands on his knees with the air of a man who
+enjoys life and knows how to live, he swayed to and fro with dignity,
+offered surmises about the weather, or touched on questions of health,
+sometimes in Russian and sometimes in very bad but self-confident
+French; then again, like a man weary but unflinching in the fulfillment
+of duty, he rose to see some visitors off and, stroking his scanty gray
+hairs over his bald patch, also asked them to dinner. Sometimes on his
+way back from the anteroom he would pass through the conservatory and
+pantry into the large marble dining hall, where tables were being set
+out for eighty people; and looking at the footmen, who were bringing in
+silver and china, moving tables, and unfolding damask table linen, he
+would call Dmitri Vasilevich, a man of good family and the manager of
+all his affairs, and while looking with pleasure at the enormous table
+would say: "Well, Dmitri, you'll see that things are all as they should
+be? That's right! The great thing is the serving, that's it." And with a
+complacent sigh he would return to the drawing room.
+
+"Marya Lvovna Karagina and her daughter!" announced the countess'
+gigantic footman in his bass voice, entering the drawing room. The
+countess reflected a moment and took a pinch from a gold snuffbox with
+her husband's portrait on it.
+
+"I'm quite worn out by these callers. However, I'll see her and no more.
+She is so affected. Ask her in," she said to the footman in a sad voice,
+as if saying: "Very well, finish me off."
+
+A tall, stout, and proud-looking woman, with a round-faced smiling
+daughter, entered the drawing room, their dresses rustling.
+
+"Dear Countess, what an age... She has been laid up, poor child... at
+the Razumovski's ball... and Countess Apraksina... I was so
+delighted..." came the sounds of animated feminine voices, interrupting
+one another and mingling with the rustling of dresses and the scraping
+of chairs. Then one of those conversations began which last out until,
+at the first pause, the guests rise with a rustle of dresses and say, "I
+am so delighted... Mamma's health... and Countess Apraksina..." and
+then, again rustling, pass into the anteroom, put on cloaks or mantles,
+and drive away. The conversation was on the chief topic of the day: the
+illness of the wealthy and celebrated beau of Catherine's day, Count
+Bezukhov, and about his illegitimate son Pierre, the one who had behaved
+so improperly at Anna Pavlovna's reception.
+
+"I am so sorry for the poor count," said the visitor. "He is in such bad
+health, and now this vexation about his son is enough to kill him!"
+
+"What is that?" asked the countess as if she did not know what the
+visitor alluded to, though she had already heard about the cause of
+Count Bezukhov's distress some fifteen times.
+
+"That's what comes of a modern education," exclaimed the visitor. "It
+seems that while he was abroad this young man was allowed to do as he
+liked, now in Petersburg I hear he has been doing such terrible things
+that he has been expelled by the police."
+
+"You don't say so!" replied the countess.
+
+"He chose his friends badly," interposed Anna Mikhaylovna. "Prince
+Vasili's son, he, and a certain Dolokhov have, it is said, been up to
+heaven only knows what! And they have had to suffer for it. Dolokhov has
+been degraded to the ranks and Bezukhov's son sent back to Moscow.
+Anatole Kuragin's father managed somehow to get his son's affair hushed
+up, but even he was ordered out of Petersburg."
+
+"But what have they been up to?" asked the countess.
+
+"They are regular brigands, especially Dolokhov," replied the visitor.
+"He is a son of Marya Ivanovna Dolokhova, such a worthy woman, but
+there, just fancy! Those three got hold of a bear somewhere, put it in a
+carriage, and set off with it to visit some actresses! The police tried
+to interfere, and what did the young men do? They tied a policeman and
+the bear back to back and put the bear into the Moyka Canal. And there
+was the bear swimming about with the policeman on his back!"
+
+"What a nice figure the policeman must have cut, my dear!" shouted the
+count, dying with laughter.
+
+"Oh, how dreadful! How can you laugh at it, Count?"
+
+Yet the ladies themselves could not help laughing.
+
+"It was all they could do to rescue the poor man," continued the
+visitor. "And to think it is Cyril Vladimirovich Bezukhov's son who
+amuses himself in this sensible manner! And he was said to be so well
+educated and clever. This is all that his foreign education has done for
+him! I hope that here in Moscow no one will receive him, in spite of his
+money. They wanted to introduce him to me, but I quite declined: I have
+my daughters to consider."
+
+"Why do you say this young man is so rich?" asked the countess, turning
+away from the girls, who at once assumed an air of inattention. "His
+children are all illegitimate. I think Pierre also is illegitimate."
+
+The visitor made a gesture with her hand.
+
+"I should think he has a score of them."
+
+Princess Anna Mikhaylovna intervened in the conversation, evidently
+wishing to show her connections and knowledge of what went on in
+society.
+
+"The fact of the matter is," said she significantly, and also in a half
+whisper, "everyone knows Count Cyril's reputation.... He has lost count
+of his children, but this Pierre was his favorite."
+
+"How handsome the old man still was only a year ago!" remarked the
+countess. "I have never seen a handsomer man."
+
+"He is very much altered now," said Anna Mikhaylovna. "Well, as I was
+saying, Prince Vasili is the next heir through his wife, but the count
+is very fond of Pierre, looked after his education, and wrote to the
+Emperor about him; so that in the case of his death--and he is so ill
+that he may die at any moment, and Dr. Lorrain has come from Petersburg-
+-no one knows who will inherit his immense fortune, Pierre or Prince
+Vasili. Forty thousand serfs and millions of rubles! I know it all very
+well for Prince Vasili told me himself. Besides, Cyril Vladimirovich is
+my mother's second cousin. He's also my Bory's godfather," she added, as
+if she attached no importance at all to the fact.
+
+"Prince Vasili arrived in Moscow yesterday. I hear he has come on some
+inspection business," remarked the visitor.
+
+"Yes, but between ourselves," said the princess, "that is a pretext. The
+fact is he has come to see Count Cyril Vladimirovich, hearing how ill he
+is."
+
+"But do you know, my dear, that was a capital joke," said the count; and
+seeing that the elder visitor was not listening, he turned to the young
+ladies. "I can just imagine what a funny figure that policeman cut!"
+
+And as he waved his arms to impersonate the policeman, his portly form
+again shook with a deep ringing laugh, the laugh of one who always eats
+well and, in particular, drinks well. "So do come and dine with us!" he
+said.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+Silence ensued. The countess looked at her callers, smiling affably, but
+not concealing the fact that she would not be distressed if they now
+rose and took their leave. The visitor's daughter was already smoothing
+down her dress with an inquiring look at her mother, when suddenly from
+the next room were heard the footsteps of boys and girls running to the
+door and the noise of a chair falling over, and a girl of thirteen,
+hiding something in the folds of her short muslin frock, darted in and
+stopped short in the middle of the room. It was evident that she had not
+intended her flight to bring her so far. Behind her in the doorway
+appeared a student with a crimson coat collar, an officer of the Guards,
+a girl of fifteen, and a plump rosy-faced boy in a short jacket.
+
+The count jumped up and, swaying from side to side, spread his arms wide
+and threw them round the little girl who had run in.
+
+"Ah, here she is!" he exclaimed laughing. "My pet, whose name day it is.
+My dear pet!"
+
+"Ma chere, there is a time for everything," said the countess with
+feigned severity. "You spoil her, Ilya," she added, turning to her
+husband.
+
+"How do you do, my dear? I wish you many happy returns of your name
+day," said the visitor. "What a charming child," she added, addressing
+the mother.
+
+This black-eyed, wide-mouthed girl, not pretty but full of life--with
+childish bare shoulders which after her run heaved and shook her bodice,
+with black curls tossed backward, thin bare arms, little legs in lace-
+frilled drawers, and feet in low slippers--was just at that charming age
+when a girl is no longer a child, though the child is not yet a young
+woman. Escaping from her father she ran to hide her flushed face in the
+lace of her mother's mantilla--not paying the least attention to her
+severe remark--and began to laugh. She laughed, and in fragmentary
+sentences tried to explain about a doll which she produced from the
+folds of her frock.
+
+"Do you see?... My doll... Mimi... You see..." was all Natasha managed
+to utter (to her everything seemed funny). She leaned against her mother
+and burst into such a loud, ringing fit of laughter that even the prim
+visitor could not help joining in.
+
+"Now then, go away and take your monstrosity with you," said the mother,
+pushing away her daughter with pretended sternness, and turning to the
+visitor she added: "She is my youngest girl."
+
+Natasha, raising her face for a moment from her mother's mantilla,
+glanced up at her through tears of laughter, and again hid her face.
+
+The visitor, compelled to look on at this family scene, thought it
+necessary to take some part in it.
+
+"Tell me, my dear," said she to Natasha, "is Mimi a relation of yours? A
+daughter, I suppose?"
+
+Natasha did not like the visitor's tone of condescension to childish
+things. She did not reply, but looked at her seriously.
+
+Meanwhile the younger generation: Boris, the officer, Anna Mikhaylovna's
+son; Nicholas, the undergraduate, the count's eldest son; Sonya, the
+count's fifteen-year-old niece, and little Petya, his youngest boy, had
+all settled down in the drawing room and were obviously trying to
+restrain within the bounds of decorum the excitement and mirth that
+shone in all their faces. Evidently in the back rooms, from which they
+had dashed out so impetuously, the conversation had been more amusing
+than the drawing-room talk of society scandals, the weather, and
+Countess Apraksina. Now and then they glanced at one another, hardly
+able to suppress their laughter.
+
+The two young men, the student and the officer, friends from childhood,
+were of the same age and both handsome fellows, though not alike. Boris
+was tall and fair, and his calm and handsome face had regular, delicate
+features. Nicholas was short with curly hair and an open expression.
+Dark hairs were already showing on his upper lip, and his whole face
+expressed impetuosity and enthusiasm. Nicholas blushed when he entered
+the drawing room. He evidently tried to find something to say, but
+failed. Boris on the contrary at once found his footing, and related
+quietly and humorously how he had known that doll Mimi when she was
+still quite a young lady, before her nose was broken; how she had aged
+during the five years he had known her, and how her head had cracked
+right across the skull. Having said this he glanced at Natasha. She
+turned away from him and glanced at her younger brother, who was
+screwing up his eyes and shaking with suppressed laughter, and unable to
+control herself any longer, she jumped up and rushed from the room as
+fast as her nimble little feet would carry her. Boris did not laugh.
+
+"You were meaning to go out, weren't you, Mamma? Do you want the
+carriage?" he asked his mother with a smile.
+
+"Yes, yes, go and tell them to get it ready," she answered, returning
+his smile.
+
+Boris quietly left the room and went in search of Natasha. The plump boy
+ran after them angrily, as if vexed that their program had been
+disturbed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+The only young people remaining in the drawing room, not counting the
+young lady visitor and the countess' eldest daughter (who was four years
+older than her sister and behaved already like a grown-up person), were
+Nicholas and Sonya, the niece. Sonya was a slender little brunette with
+a tender look in her eyes which were veiled by long lashes, thick black
+plaits coiling twice round her head, and a tawny tint in her complexion
+and especially in the color of her slender but graceful and muscular
+arms and neck. By the grace of her movements, by the softness and
+flexibility of her small limbs, and by a certain coyness and reserve of
+manner, she reminded one of a pretty, half-grown kitten which promises
+to become a beautiful little cat. She evidently considered it proper to
+show an interest in the general conversation by smiling, but in spite of
+herself her eyes under their thick long lashes watched her cousin who
+was going to join the army, with such passionate girlish adoration that
+her smile could not for a single instant impose upon anyone, and it was
+clear that the kitten had settled down only to spring up with more
+energy and again play with her cousin as soon as they too could, like
+Natasha and Boris, escape from the drawing room.
+
+"Ah yes, my dear," said the count, addressing the visitor and pointing
+to Nicholas, "his friend Boris has become an officer, and so for
+friendship's sake he is leaving the university and me, his old father,
+and entering the military service, my dear. And there was a place and
+everything waiting for him in the Archives Department! Isn't that
+friendship?" remarked the count in an inquiring tone.
+
+"But they say that war has been declared," replied the visitor.
+
+"They've been saying so a long while," said the count, "and they'll say
+so again and again, and that will be the end of it. My dear, there's
+friendship for you," he repeated. "He's joining the hussars."
+
+The visitor, not knowing what to say, shook her head.
+
+"It's not at all from friendship," declared Nicholas, flaring up and
+turning away as if from a shameful aspersion. "It is not from friendship
+at all; I simply feel that the army is my vocation."
+
+He glanced at his cousin and the young lady visitor; and they were both
+regarding him with a smile of approbation.
+
+"Schubert, the colonel of the Pavlograd Hussars, is dining with us
+today. He has been here on leave and is taking Nicholas back with him.
+It can't be helped!" said the count, shrugging his shoulders and
+speaking playfully of a matter that evidently distressed him.
+
+"I have already told you, Papa," said his son, "that if you don't wish
+to let me go, I'll stay. But I know I am no use anywhere except in the
+army; I am not a diplomat or a government clerk.--I don't know how to
+hide what I feel." As he spoke he kept glancing with the flirtatiousness
+of a handsome youth at Sonya and the young lady visitor.
+
+The little kitten, feasting her eyes on him, seemed ready at any moment
+to start her gambols again and display her kittenish nature.
+
+"All right, all right!" said the old count. "He always flares up! This
+Buonaparte has turned all their heads; they all think of how he rose
+from an ensign and became Emperor. Well, well, God grant it," he added,
+not noticing his visitor's sarcastic smile.
+
+The elders began talking about Bonaparte. Julie Karagina turned to young
+Rostov.
+
+"What a pity you weren't at the Arkharovs' on Thursday. It was so dull
+without you," said she, giving him a tender smile.
+
+The young man, flattered, sat down nearer to her with a coquettish
+smile, and engaged the smiling Julie in a confidential conversation
+without at all noticing that his involuntary smile had stabbed the heart
+of Sonya, who blushed and smiled unnaturally. In the midst of his talk
+he glanced round at her. She gave him a passionately angry glance, and
+hardly able to restrain her tears and maintain the artificial smile on
+her lips, she got up and left the room. All Nicholas' animation
+vanished. He waited for the first pause in the conversation, and then
+with a distressed face left the room to find Sonya.
+
+"How plainly all these young people wear their hearts on their sleeves!"
+said Anna Mikhaylovna, pointing to Nicholas as he went out. "Cousinage--
+dangereux voisinage;" * she added.
+
+
+* Cousinhood is a dangerous neighborhood.
+
+"Yes," said the countess when the brightness these young people had
+brought into the room had vanished; and as if answering a question no
+one had put but which was always in her mind, "and how much suffering,
+how much anxiety one has had to go through that we might rejoice in them
+now! And yet really the anxiety is greater now than the joy. One is
+always, always anxious! Especially just at this age, so dangerous both
+for girls and boys."
+
+"It all depends on the bringing up," remarked the visitor.
+
+"Yes, you're quite right," continued the countess. "Till now I have
+always, thank God, been my children's friend and had their full
+confidence," said she, repeating the mistake of so many parents who
+imagine that their children have no secrets from them. "I know I shall
+always be my daughters' first confidante, and that if Nicholas, with his
+impulsive nature, does get into mischief (a boy can't help it), he will
+all the same never be like those Petersburg young men."
+
+"Yes, they are splendid, splendid youngsters," chimed in the count, who
+always solved questions that seemed to him perplexing by deciding that
+everything was splendid. "Just fancy: wants to be an hussar. What's one
+to do, my dear?"
+
+"What a charming creature your younger girl is," said the visitor; "a
+little volcano!"
+
+"Yes, a regular volcano," said the count. "Takes after me! And what a
+voice she has; though she's my daughter, I tell the truth when I say
+she'll be a singer, a second Salomoni! We have engaged an Italian to
+give her lessons."
+
+"Isn't she too young? I have heard that it harms the voice to train it
+at that age."
+
+"Oh no, not at all too young!" replied the count. "Why, our mothers used
+to be married at twelve or thirteen."
+
+"And she's in love with Boris already. Just fancy!" said the countess
+with a gentle smile, looking at Boris and went on, evidently concerned
+with a thought that always occupied her: "Now you see if I were to be
+severe with her and to forbid it... goodness knows what they might be up
+to on the sly" (she meant that they would be kissing), "but as it is, I
+know every word she utters. She will come running to me of her own
+accord in the evening and tell me everything. Perhaps I spoil her, but
+really that seems the best plan. With her elder sister I was stricter."
+
+"Yes, I was brought up quite differently," remarked the handsome elder
+daughter, Countess Vera, with a smile.
+
+But the smile did not enhance Vera's beauty as smiles generally do; on
+the contrary it gave her an unnatural, and therefore unpleasant,
+expression. Vera was good-looking, not at all stupid, quick at learning,
+was well-brought up, and had a pleasant voice; what she said was true
+and appropriate, yet, strange to say, everyone--the visitors and
+countess alike--turned to look at her as if wondering why she had said
+it, and they all felt awkward.
+
+"People are always too clever with their eldest children and try to make
+something exceptional of them," said the visitor.
+
+"What's the good of denying it, my dear? Our dear countess was too
+clever with Vera," said the count. "Well, what of that? She's turned out
+splendidly all the same," he added, winking at Vera.
+
+The guests got up and took their leave, promising to return to dinner.
+
+"What manners! I thought they would never go," said the countess, when
+she had seen her guests out.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+When Natasha ran out of the drawing room she only went as far as the
+conservatory. There she paused and stood listening to the conversation
+in the drawing room, waiting for Boris to come out. She was already
+growing impatient, and stamped her foot, ready to cry at his not coming
+at once, when she heard the young man's discreet steps approaching
+neither quickly nor slowly. At this Natasha dashed swiftly among the
+flower tubs and hid there.
+
+Boris paused in the middle of the room, looked round, brushed a little
+dust from the sleeve of his uniform, and going up to a mirror examined
+his handsome face. Natasha, very still, peered out from her ambush,
+waiting to see what he would do. He stood a little while before the
+glass, smiled, and walked toward the other door. Natasha was about to
+call him but changed her mind. "Let him look for me," thought she.
+Hardly had Boris gone than Sonya, flushed, in tears, and muttering
+angrily, came in at the other door. Natasha checked her first impulse to
+run out to her, and remained in her hiding place, watching--as under an
+invisible cap--to see what went on in the world. She was experiencing a
+new and peculiar pleasure. Sonya, muttering to herself, kept looking
+round toward the drawing-room door. It opened and Nicholas came in.
+
+"Sonya, what is the matter with you? How can you?" said he, running up
+to her.
+
+"It's nothing, nothing; leave me alone!" sobbed Sonya.
+
+"Ah, I know what it is."
+
+"Well, if you do, so much the better, and you can go back to her!"
+
+"So-o-onya! Look here! How can you torture me and yourself like that,
+for a mere fancy?" said Nicholas taking her hand.
+
+Sonya did not pull it away, and left off crying. Natasha, not stirring
+and scarcely breathing, watched from her ambush with sparkling eyes.
+"What will happen now?" thought she.
+
+"Sonya! What is anyone in the world to me? You alone are everything!"
+said Nicholas. "And I will prove it to you."
+
+"I don't like you to talk like that."
+
+"Well, then, I won't; only forgive me, Sonya!" He drew her to him and
+kissed her.
+
+"Oh, how nice," thought Natasha; and when Sonya and Nicholas had gone
+out of the conservatory she followed and called Boris to her.
+
+"Boris, come here," said she with a sly and significant look. "I have
+something to tell you. Here, here!" and she led him into the
+conservatory to the place among the tubs where she had been hiding.
+
+Boris followed her, smiling.
+
+"What is the something?" asked he.
+
+She grew confused, glanced round, and, seeing the doll she had thrown
+down on one of the tubs, picked it up.
+
+"Kiss the doll," said she.
+
+Boris looked attentively and kindly at her eager face, but did not
+reply.
+
+"Don't you want to? Well, then, come here," said she, and went further
+in among the plants and threw down the doll. "Closer, closer!" she
+whispered.
+
+She caught the young officer by his cuffs, and a look of solemnity and
+fear appeared on her flushed face.
+
+"And me? Would you like to kiss me?" she whispered almost inaudibly,
+glancing up at him from under her brows, smiling, and almost crying from
+excitement.
+
+Boris blushed.
+
+"How funny you are!" he said, bending down to her and blushing still
+more, but he waited and did nothing.
+
+Suddenly she jumped up onto a tub to be higher than he, embraced him so
+that both her slender bare arms clasped him above his neck, and, tossing
+back her hair, kissed him full on the lips.
+
+Then she slipped down among the flowerpots on the other side of the tubs
+and stood, hanging her head.
+
+"Natasha," he said, "you know that I love you, but..."
+
+"You are in love with me?" Natasha broke in.
+
+"Yes, I am, but please don't let us do like that.... In another four
+years... then I will ask for your hand."
+
+Natasha considered.
+
+"Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen," she counted on her slender
+little fingers. "All right! Then it's settled?"
+
+A smile of joy and satisfaction lit up her eager face.
+
+"Settled!" replied Boris.
+
+"Forever?" said the little girl. "Till death itself?"
+
+She took his arm and with a happy face went with him into the adjoining
+sitting room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+After receiving her visitors, the countess was so tired that she gave
+orders to admit no more, but the porter was told to be sure to invite to
+dinner all who came "to congratulate." The countess wished to have a
+tête-à-tête talk with the friend of her childhood, Princess Anna
+Mikhaylovna, whom she had not seen properly since she returned from
+Petersburg. Anna Mikhaylovna, with her tear-worn but pleasant face, drew
+her chair nearer to that of the countess.
+
+"With you I will be quite frank," said Anna Mikhaylovna. "There are not
+many left of us old friends! That's why I so value your friendship."
+
+Anna Mikhaylovna looked at Vera and paused. The countess pressed her
+friend's hand.
+
+"Vera," she said to her eldest daughter who was evidently not a
+favorite, "how is it you have so little tact? Don't you see you are not
+wanted here? Go to the other girls, or..."
+
+The handsome Vera smiled contemptuously but did not seem at all hurt.
+
+"If you had told me sooner, Mamma, I would have gone," she replied as
+she rose to go to her own room.
+
+But as she passed the sitting room she noticed two couples sitting, one
+pair at each window. She stopped and smiled scornfully. Sonya was
+sitting close to Nicholas who was copying out some verses for her, the
+first he had ever written. Boris and Natasha were at the other window
+and ceased talking when Vera entered. Sonya and Natasha looked at Vera
+with guilty, happy faces.
+
+It was pleasant and touching to see these little girls in love; but
+apparently the sight of them roused no pleasant feeling in Vera.
+
+"How often have I asked you not to take my things?" she said. "You have
+a room of your own," and she took the inkstand from Nicholas.
+
+"In a minute, in a minute," he said, dipping his pen.
+
+"You always manage to do things at the wrong time," continued Vera. "You
+came rushing into the drawing room so that everyone felt ashamed of
+you."
+
+Though what she said was quite just, perhaps for that very reason no one
+replied, and the four simply looked at one another. She lingered in the
+room with the inkstand in her hand.
+
+"And at your age what secrets can there be between Natasha and Boris, or
+between you two? It's all nonsense!"
+
+"Now, Vera, what does it matter to you?" said Natasha in defense,
+speaking very gently.
+
+She seemed that day to be more than ever kind and affectionate to
+everyone.
+
+"Very silly," said Vera. "I am ashamed of you. Secrets indeed!"
+
+"All have secrets of their own," answered Natasha, getting warmer. "We
+don't interfere with you and Berg."
+
+"I should think not," said Vera, "because there can never be anything
+wrong in my behavior. But I'll just tell Mamma how you are behaving with
+Boris."
+
+"Natalya Ilynichna behaves very well to me," remarked Boris. "I have
+nothing to complain of."
+
+"Don't, Boris! You are such a diplomat that it is really tiresome," said
+Natasha in a mortified voice that trembled slightly. (She used the word
+"diplomat," which was just then much in vogue among the children, in the
+special sense they attached to it.) "Why does she bother me?" And she
+added, turning to Vera, "You'll never understand it, because you've
+never loved anyone. You have no heart! You are a Madame de Genlis and
+nothing more" (this nickname, bestowed on Vera by Nicholas, was
+considered very stinging), "and your greatest pleasure is to be
+unpleasant to people! Go and flirt with Berg as much as you please," she
+finished quickly.
+
+"I shall at any rate not run after a young man before visitors..."
+
+"Well, now you've done what you wanted," put in Nicholas--"said
+unpleasant things to everyone and upset them. Let's go to the nursery."
+
+All four, like a flock of scared birds, got up and left the room.
+
+"The unpleasant things were said to me," remarked Vera, "I said none to
+anyone."
+
+"Madame de Genlis! Madame de Genlis!" shouted laughing voices through
+the door.
+
+The handsome Vera, who produced such an irritating and unpleasant effect
+on everyone, smiled and, evidently unmoved by what had been said to her,
+went to the looking glass and arranged her hair and scarf. Looking at
+her own handsome face she seemed to become still colder and calmer.
+
+In the drawing room the conversation was still going on.
+
+"Ah, my dear," said the countess, "my life is not all roses either.
+Don't I know that at the rate we are living our means won't last long?
+It's all the Club and his easygoing nature. Even in the country do we
+get any rest? Theatricals, hunting, and heaven knows what besides! But
+don't let's talk about me; tell me how you managed everything. I often
+wonder at you, Annette--how at your age you can rush off alone in a
+carriage to Moscow, to Petersburg, to those ministers and great people,
+and know how to deal with them all! It's quite astonishing. How did you
+get things settled? I couldn't possibly do it."
+
+"Ah, my love," answered Anna Mikhaylovna, "God grant you never know what
+it is to be left a widow without means and with a son you love to
+distraction! One learns many things then," she added with a certain
+pride. "That lawsuit taught me much. When I want to see one of those big
+people I write a note: 'Princess So-and-So desires an interview with So
+and-So,' and then I take a cab and go myself two, three, or four times--
+till I get what I want. I don't mind what they think of me."
+
+"Well, and to whom did you apply about Bory?" asked the countess. "You
+see yours is already an officer in the Guards, while my Nicholas is
+going as a cadet. There's no one to interest himself for him. To whom
+did you apply?"
+
+"To Prince Vasili. He was so kind. He at once agreed to everything, and
+put the matter before the Emperor," said Princess Anna Mikhaylovna
+enthusiastically, quite forgetting all the humiliation she had endured
+to gain her end.
+
+"Has Prince Vasili aged much?" asked the countess. "I have not seen him
+since we acted together at the Rumyantsovs' theatricals. I expect he has
+forgotten me. He paid me attentions in those days," said the countess,
+with a smile.
+
+"He is just the same as ever," replied Anna Mikhaylovna, "overflowing
+with amiability. His position has not turned his head at all. He said to
+me, 'I am sorry I can do so little for you, dear Princess. I am at your
+command.' Yes, he is a fine fellow and a very kind relation. But,
+Nataly, you know my love for my son: I would do anything for his
+happiness! And my affairs are in such a bad way that my position is now
+a terrible one," continued Anna Mikhaylovna, sadly, dropping her voice.
+"My wretched lawsuit takes all I have and makes no progress. Would you
+believe it, I have literally not a penny and don't know how to equip
+Boris." She took out her handkerchief and began to cry. "I need five
+hundred rubles, and have only one twenty-five-ruble note. I am in such a
+state.... My only hope now is in Count Cyril Vladimirovich Bezukhov. If
+he will not assist his godson--you know he is Bory's godfather--and
+allow him something for his maintenance, all my trouble will have been
+thrown away.... I shall not be able to equip him."
+
+The countess' eyes filled with tears and she pondered in silence.
+
+"I often think, though, perhaps it's a sin," said the princess, "that
+here lives Count Cyril Vladimirovich Bezukhov so rich, all alone... that
+tremendous fortune... and what is his life worth? It's a burden to him,
+and Bory's life is only just beginning...."
+
+"Surely he will leave something to Boris," said the countess.
+
+"Heaven only knows, my dear! These rich grandees are so selfish. Still,
+I will take Boris and go to see him at once, and I shall speak to him
+straight out. Let people think what they will of me, it's really all the
+same to me when my son's fate is at stake." The princess rose. "It's now
+two o'clock and you dine at four. There will just be time."
+
+And like a practical Petersburg lady who knows how to make the most of
+time, Anna Mikhaylovna sent someone to call her son, and went into the
+anteroom with him.
+
+"Good-bye, my dear," said she to the countess who saw her to the door,
+and added in a whisper so that her son should not hear, "Wish me good
+luck."
+
+"Are you going to Count Cyril Vladimirovich, my dear?" said the count
+coming out from the dining hall into the anteroom, and he added: "If he
+is better, ask Pierre to dine with us. He has been to the house, you
+know, and danced with the children. Be sure to invite him, my dear. We
+will see how Taras distinguishes himself today. He says Count Orlov
+never gave such a dinner as ours will be!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+"My dear Boris," said Princess Anna Mikhaylovna to her son as Countess
+Rostova's carriage in which they were seated drove over the straw
+covered street and turned into the wide courtyard of Count Cyril
+Vladimirovich Bezukhov's house. "My dear Boris," said the mother,
+drawing her hand from beneath her old mantle and laying it timidly and
+tenderly on her son's arm, "be affectionate and attentive to him. Count
+Cyril Vladimirovich is your godfather after all, your future depends on
+him. Remember that, my dear, and be nice to him, as you so well know how
+to be."
+
+"If only I knew that anything besides humiliation would come of it..."
+answered her son coldly. "But I have promised and will do it for your
+sake."
+
+Although the hall porter saw someone's carriage standing at the
+entrance, after scrutinizing the mother and son (who without asking to
+be announced had passed straight through the glass porch between the
+rows of statues in niches) and looking significantly at the lady's old
+cloak, he asked whether they wanted the count or the princesses, and,
+hearing that they wished to see the count, said his excellency was worse
+today, and that his excellency was not receiving anyone.
+
+"We may as well go back," said the son in French.
+
+"My dear!" exclaimed his mother imploringly, again laying her hand on
+his arm as if that touch might soothe or rouse him.
+
+Boris said no more, but looked inquiringly at his mother without taking
+off his cloak.
+
+"My friend," said Anna Mikhaylovna in gentle tones, addressing the hall
+porter, "I know Count Cyril Vladimirovich is very ill... that's why I
+have come... I am a relation. I shall not disturb him, my friend... I
+only need see Prince Vasili Sergeevich: he is staying here, is he not?
+Please announce me."
+
+The hall porter sullenly pulled a bell that rang upstairs, and turned
+away.
+
+"Princess Drubetskaya to see Prince Vasili Sergeevich," he called to a
+footman dressed in knee breeches, shoes, and a swallow-tail coat, who
+ran downstairs and looked over from the halfway landing.
+
+The mother smoothed the folds of her dyed silk dress before a large
+Venetian mirror in the wall, and in her trodden-down shoes briskly
+ascended the carpeted stairs.
+
+"My dear," she said to her son, once more stimulating him by a touch,
+"you promised me!"
+
+The son, lowering his eyes, followed her quietly.
+
+They entered the large hall, from which one of the doors led to the
+apartments assigned to Prince Vasili.
+
+Just as the mother and son, having reached the middle of the hall, were
+about to ask their way of an elderly footman who had sprung up as they
+entered, the bronze handle of one of the doors turned and Prince Vasili
+came out--wearing a velvet coat with a single star on his breast, as was
+his custom when at home--taking leave of a good-looking, dark-haired
+man. This was the celebrated Petersburg doctor, Lorrain.
+
+"Then it is certain?" said the prince.
+
+"Prince, humanum est errare, * but..." replied the doctor, swallowing
+his r's, and pronouncing the Latin words with a French accent.
+
+
+* To err is human.
+
+"Very well, very well..."
+
+Seeing Anna Mikhaylovna and her son, Prince Vasili dismissed the doctor
+with a bow and approached them silently and with a look of inquiry. The
+son noticed that an expression of profound sorrow suddenly clouded his
+mother's face, and he smiled slightly.
+
+"Ah, Prince! In what sad circumstances we meet again! And how is our
+dear invalid?" said she, as though unaware of the cold offensive look
+fixed on her.
+
+Prince Vasili stared at her and at Boris questioningly and perplexed.
+Boris bowed politely. Prince Vasili without acknowledging the bow turned
+to Anna Mikhaylovna, answering her query by a movement of the head and
+lips indicating very little hope for the patient.
+
+"Is it possible?" exclaimed Anna Mikhaylovna. "Oh, how awful! It is
+terrible to think.... This is my son," she added, indicating Boris. "He
+wanted to thank you himself."
+
+Boris bowed again politely.
+
+"Believe me, Prince, a mother's heart will never forget what you have
+done for us."
+
+"I am glad I was able to do you a service, my dear Anna Mikhaylovna,"
+said Prince Vasili, arranging his lace frill, and in tone and manner,
+here in Moscow to Anna Mikhaylovna whom he had placed under an
+obligation, assuming an air of much greater importance than he had done
+in Petersburg at Anna Scherer's reception.
+
+"Try to serve well and show yourself worthy," added he, addressing Boris
+with severity. "I am glad.... Are you here on leave?" he went on in his
+usual tone of indifference.
+
+"I am awaiting orders to join my new regiment, your excellency," replied
+Boris, betraying neither annoyance at the prince's brusque manner nor a
+desire to enter into conversation, but speaking so quietly and
+respectfully that the prince gave him a searching glance.
+
+"Are you living with your mother?"
+
+"I am living at Countess Rostova's," replied Boris, again adding, "your
+excellency."
+
+"That is, with Ilya Rostov who married Nataly Shinshina," said Anna
+Mikhaylovna.
+
+"I know, I know," answered Prince Vasili in his monotonous voice. "I
+never could understand how Nataly made up her mind to marry that
+unlicked bear! A perfectly absurd and stupid fellow, and a gambler too,
+I am told."
+
+"But a very kind man, Prince," said Anna Mikhaylovna with a pathetic
+smile, as though she too knew that Count Rostov deserved this censure,
+but asked him not to be too hard on the poor old man. "What do the
+doctors say?" asked the princess after a pause, her worn face again
+expressing deep sorrow.
+
+"They give little hope," replied the prince.
+
+"And I should so like to thank Uncle once for all his kindness to me and
+Boris. He is his godson," she added, her tone suggesting that this fact
+ought to give Prince Vasili much satisfaction.
+
+Prince Vasili became thoughtful and frowned. Anna Mikhaylovna saw that
+he was afraid of finding in her a rival for Count Bezukhov's fortune,
+and hastened to reassure him.
+
+"If it were not for my sincere affection and devotion to Uncle," said
+she, uttering the word with peculiar assurance and unconcern, "I know
+his character: noble, upright... but you see he has no one with him
+except the young princesses.... They are still young...." She bent her
+head and continued in a whisper: "Has he performed his final duty,
+Prince? How priceless are those last moments! It can make things no
+worse, and it is absolutely necessary to prepare him if he is so ill. We
+women, Prince," and she smiled tenderly, "always know how to say these
+things. I absolutely must see him, however painful it may be for me. I
+am used to suffering."
+
+Evidently the prince understood her, and also understood, as he had done
+at Anna Pavlovna's, that it would be difficult to get rid of Anna
+Mikhaylovna.
+
+"Would not such a meeting be too trying for him, dear Anna Mikhaylovna?"
+said he. "Let us wait until evening. The doctors are expecting a
+crisis."
+
+"But one cannot delay, Prince, at such a moment! Consider that the
+welfare of his soul is at stake. Ah, it is awful: the duties of a
+Christian..."
+
+A door of one of the inner rooms opened and one of the princesses, the
+count's niece, entered with a cold, stern face. The length of her body
+was strikingly out of proportion to her short legs. Prince Vasili turned
+to her.
+
+"Well, how is he?"
+
+"Still the same; but what can you expect, this noise..." said the
+princess, looking at Anna Mikhaylovna as at a stranger.
+
+"Ah, my dear, I hardly knew you," said Anna Mikhaylovna with a happy
+smile, ambling lightly up to the count's niece. "I have come, and am at
+your service to help you nurse my uncle. I imagine what you have gone
+through," and she sympathetically turned up her eyes.
+
+The princess gave no reply and did not even smile, but left the room as
+Anna Mikhaylovna took off her gloves and, occupying the position she had
+conquered, settled down in an armchair, inviting Prince Vasili to take a
+seat beside her.
+
+"Boris," she said to her son with a smile, "I shall go in to see the
+count, my uncle; but you, my dear, had better go to Pierre meanwhile and
+don't forget to give him the Rostovs' invitation. They ask him to
+dinner. I suppose he won't go?" she continued, turning to the prince.
+
+"On the contrary," replied the prince, who had plainly become depressed,
+"I shall be only too glad if you relieve me of that young man.... Here
+he is, and the count has not once asked for him."
+
+He shrugged his shoulders. A footman conducted Boris down one flight of
+stairs and up another, to Pierre's rooms.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+Pierre, after all, had not managed to choose a career for himself in
+Petersburg, and had been expelled from there for riotous conduct and
+sent to Moscow. The story told about him at Count Rostov's was true.
+Pierre had taken part in tying a policeman to a bear. He had now been
+for some days in Moscow and was staying as usual at his father's house.
+Though he expected that the story of his escapade would be already known
+in Moscow and that the ladies about his father--who were never favorably
+disposed toward him--would have used it to turn the count against him,
+he nevertheless on the day of his arrival went to his father's part of
+the house. Entering the drawing room, where the princesses spent most of
+their time, he greeted the ladies, two of whom were sitting at
+embroidery frames while a third read aloud. It was the eldest who was
+reading--the one who had met Anna Mikhaylovna. The two younger ones were
+embroidering: both were rosy and pretty and they differed only in that
+one had a little mole on her lip which made her much prettier. Pierre
+was received as if he were a corpse or a leper. The eldest princess
+paused in her reading and silently stared at him with frightened eyes;
+the second assumed precisely the same expression; while the youngest,
+the one with the mole, who was of a cheerful and lively disposition,
+bent over her frame to hide a smile probably evoked by the amusing scene
+she foresaw. She drew her wool down through the canvas and, scarcely
+able to refrain from laughing, stooped as if trying to make out the
+pattern.
+
+"How do you do, cousin?" said Pierre. "You don't recognize me?"
+
+"I recognize you only too well, too well."
+
+"How is the count? Can I see him?" asked Pierre, awkwardly as usual, but
+unabashed.
+
+"The count is suffering physically and mentally, and apparently you have
+done your best to increase his mental sufferings."
+
+"Can I see the count?" Pierre again asked.
+
+"Hm.... If you wish to kill him, to kill him outright, you can see
+him... Olga, go and see whether Uncle's beef tea is ready--it is almost
+time," she added, giving Pierre to understand that they were busy, and
+busy making his father comfortable, while evidently he, Pierre, was only
+busy causing him annoyance.
+
+Olga went out. Pierre stood looking at the sisters; then he bowed and
+said: "Then I will go to my rooms. You will let me know when I can see
+him."
+
+And he left the room, followed by the low but ringing laughter of the
+sister with the mole.
+
+Next day Prince Vasili had arrived and settled in the count's house. He
+sent for Pierre and said to him: "My dear fellow, if you are going to
+behave here as you did in Petersburg, you will end very badly; that is
+all I have to say to you. The count is very, very ill, and you must not
+see him at all."
+
+Since then Pierre had not been disturbed and had spent the whole time in
+his rooms upstairs.
+
+When Boris appeared at his door Pierre was pacing up and down his room,
+stopping occasionally at a corner to make menacing gestures at the wall,
+as if running a sword through an invisible foe, and glaring savagely
+over his spectacles, and then again resuming his walk, muttering
+indistinct words, shrugging his shoulders and gesticulating.
+
+"England is done for," said he, scowling and pointing his finger at
+someone unseen. "Mr. Pitt, as a traitor to the nation and to the rights
+of man, is sentenced to..." But before Pierre--who at that moment
+imagined himself to be Napoleon in person and to have just effected the
+dangerous crossing of the Straits of Dover and captured London--could
+pronounce Pitt's sentence, he saw a well-built and handsome young
+officer entering his room. Pierre paused. He had left Moscow when Boris
+was a boy of fourteen, and had quite forgotten him, but in his usual
+impulsive and hearty way he took Boris by the hand with a friendly
+smile.
+
+"Do you remember me?" asked Boris quietly with a pleasant smile. "I have
+come with my mother to see the count, but it seems he is not well."
+
+"Yes, it seems he is ill. People are always disturbing him," answered
+Pierre, trying to remember who this young man was.
+
+Boris felt that Pierre did not recognize him but did not consider it
+necessary to introduce himself, and without experiencing the least
+embarrassment looked Pierre straight in the face.
+
+"Count Rostov asks you to come to dinner today," said he, after a
+considerable pause which made Pierre feel uncomfortable.
+
+"Ah, Count Rostov!" exclaimed Pierre joyfully. "Then you are his son,
+Ilya? Only fancy, I didn't know you at first. Do you remember how we
+went to the Sparrow Hills with Madame Jacquot?... It's such an age..."
+
+"You are mistaken," said Boris deliberately, with a bold and slightly
+sarcastic smile. "I am Boris, son of Princess Anna Mikhaylovna
+Drubetskaya. Rostov, the father, is Ilya, and his son is Nicholas. I
+never knew any Madame Jacquot."
+
+Pierre shook his head and arms as if attacked by mosquitoes or bees.
+
+"Oh dear, what am I thinking about? I've mixed everything up. One has so
+many relatives in Moscow! So you are Boris? Of course. Well, now we know
+where we are. And what do you think of the Boulogne expedition? The
+English will come off badly, you know, if Napoleon gets across the
+Channel. I think the expedition is quite feasible. If only Villeneuve
+doesn't make a mess of things!"
+
+Boris knew nothing about the Boulogne expedition; he did not read the
+papers and it was the first time he had heard Villeneuve's name.
+
+"We here in Moscow are more occupied with dinner parties and scandal
+than with politics," said he in his quiet ironical tone. "I know nothing
+about it and have not thought about it. Moscow is chiefly busy with
+gossip," he continued. "Just now they are talking about you and your
+father."
+
+Pierre smiled in his good-natured way as if afraid for his companion's
+sake that the latter might say something he would afterwards regret. But
+Boris spoke distinctly, clearly, and dryly, looking straight into
+Pierre's eyes.
+
+"Moscow has nothing else to do but gossip," Boris went on. "Everybody is
+wondering to whom the count will leave his fortune, though he may
+perhaps outlive us all, as I sincerely hope he will..."
+
+"Yes, it is all very horrid," interrupted Pierre, "very horrid."
+
+Pierre was still afraid that this officer might inadvertently say
+something disconcerting to himself.
+
+"And it must seem to you," said Boris flushing slightly, but not
+changing his tone or attitude, "it must seem to you that everyone is
+trying to get something out of the rich man?"
+
+"So it does," thought Pierre.
+
+"But I just wish to say, to avoid misunderstandings, that you are quite
+mistaken if you reckon me or my mother among such people. We are very
+poor, but for my own part at any rate, for the very reason that your
+father is rich, I don't regard myself as a relation of his, and neither
+I nor my mother would ever ask or take anything from him."
+
+For a long time Pierre could not understand, but when he did, he jumped
+up from the sofa, seized Boris under the elbow in his quick, clumsy way,
+and, blushing far more than Boris, began to speak with a feeling of
+mingled shame and vexation.
+
+"Well, this is strange! Do you suppose I... who could think?... I know
+very well..."
+
+But Boris again interrupted him.
+
+"I am glad I have spoken out fully. Perhaps you did not like it? You
+must excuse me," said he, putting Pierre at ease instead of being put at
+ease by him, "but I hope I have not offended you. I always make it a
+rule to speak out... Well, what answer am I to take? Will you come to
+dinner at the Rostovs'?"
+
+And Boris, having apparently relieved himself of an onerous duty and
+extricated himself from an awkward situation and placed another in it,
+became quite pleasant again.
+
+"No, but I say," said Pierre, calming down, "you are a wonderful fellow!
+What you have just said is good, very good. Of course you don't know me.
+We have not met for such a long time... not since we were children. You
+might think that I... I understand, quite understand. I could not have
+done it myself, I should not have had the courage, but it's splendid. I
+am very glad to have made your acquaintance. It's queer," he added after
+a pause, "that you should have suspected me!" He began to laugh. "Well,
+what of it! I hope we'll get better acquainted," and he pressed Boris'
+hand. "Do you know, I have not once been in to see the count. He has not
+sent for me.... I am sorry for him as a man, but what can one do?"
+
+"And so you think Napoleon will manage to get an army across?" asked
+Boris with a smile.
+
+Pierre saw that Boris wished to change the subject, and being of the
+same mind he began explaining the advantages and disadvantages of the
+Boulogne expedition.
+
+A footman came in to summon Boris--the princess was going. Pierre, in
+order to make Boris' better acquaintance, promised to come to dinner,
+and warmly pressing his hand looked affectionately over his spectacles
+into Boris' eyes. After he had gone Pierre continued pacing up and down
+the room for a long time, no longer piercing an imaginary foe with his
+imaginary sword, but smiling at the remembrance of that pleasant,
+intelligent, and resolute young man.
+
+As often happens in early youth, especially to one who leads a lonely
+life, he felt an unaccountable tenderness for this young man and made up
+his mind that they would be friends.
+
+Prince Vasili saw the princess off. She held a handkerchief to her eyes
+and her face was tearful.
+
+"It is dreadful, dreadful!" she was saying, "but cost me what it may I
+shall do my duty. I will come and spend the night. He must not be left
+like this. Every moment is precious. I can't think why his nieces put it
+off. Perhaps God will help me to find a way to prepare him!... Adieu,
+Prince! May God support you..."
+
+"Adieu, ma bonne," answered Prince Vasili turning away from her.
+
+"Oh, he is in a dreadful state," said the mother to her son when they
+were in the carriage. "He hardly recognizes anybody."
+
+"I don't understand, Mamma--what is his attitude to Pierre?" asked the
+son.
+
+"The will will show that, my dear; our fate also depends on it."
+
+"But why do you expect that he will leave us anything?"
+
+"Ah, my dear! He is so rich, and we are so poor!"
+
+"Well, that is hardly a sufficient reason, Mamma..."
+
+"Oh, Heaven! How ill he is!" exclaimed the mother.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+After Anna Mikhaylovna had driven off with her son to visit Count Cyril
+Vladimirovich Bezukhov, Countess Rostova sat for a long time all alone
+applying her handkerchief to her eyes. At last she rang.
+
+"What is the matter with you, my dear?" she said crossly to the maid who
+kept her waiting some minutes. "Don't you wish to serve me? Then I'll
+find you another place."
+
+The countess was upset by her friend's sorrow and humiliating poverty,
+and was therefore out of sorts, a state of mind which with her always
+found expression in calling her maid "my dear" and speaking to her with
+exaggerated politeness.
+
+"I am very sorry, ma'am," answered the maid.
+
+"Ask the count to come to me."
+
+The count came waddling in to see his wife with a rather guilty look as
+usual.
+
+"Well, little countess? What a saute of game au madere we are to have,
+my dear! I tasted it. The thousand rubles I paid for Taras were not ill-
+spent. He is worth it!"
+
+He sat down by his wife, his elbows on his knees and his hands ruffling
+his gray hair.
+
+"What are your commands, little countess?"
+
+"You see, my dear... What's that mess?" she said, pointing to his
+waistcoat. "It's the saute, most likely," she added with a smile. "Well,
+you see, Count, I want some money."
+
+Her face became sad.
+
+"Oh, little countess!"... and the count began bustling to get out his
+pocketbook.
+
+"I want a great deal, Count! I want five hundred rubles," and taking out
+her cambric handkerchief she began wiping her husband's waistcoat.
+
+"Yes, immediately, immediately! Hey, who's there?" he called out in a
+tone only used by persons who are certain that those they call will rush
+to obey the summons. "Send Dmitri to me!"
+
+Dmitri, a man of good family who had been brought up in the count's
+house and now managed all his affairs, stepped softly into the room.
+
+"This is what I want, my dear fellow," said the count to the deferential
+young man who had entered. "Bring me..." he reflected a moment, "yes,
+bring me seven hundred rubles, yes! But mind, don't bring me such
+tattered and dirty notes as last time, but nice clean ones for the
+countess."
+
+"Yes, Dmitri, clean ones, please," said the countess, sighing deeply.
+
+"When would you like them, your excellency?" asked Dmitri. "Allow me to
+inform you... But, don't be uneasy," he added, noticing that the count
+was beginning to breathe heavily and quickly which was always a sign of
+approaching anger. "I was forgetting... Do you wish it brought at once?"
+
+"Yes, yes; just so! Bring it. Give it to the countess."
+
+"What a treasure that Dmitri is," added the count with a smile when the
+young man had departed. "There is never any 'impossible' with him.
+That's a thing I hate! Everything is possible."
+
+"Ah, money, Count, money! How much sorrow it causes in the world," said
+the countess. "But I am in great need of this sum."
+
+"You, my little countess, are a notorious spendthrift," said the count,
+and having kissed his wife's hand he went back to his study.
+
+When Anna Mikhaylovna returned from Count Bezukhov's the money, all in
+clean notes, was lying ready under a handkerchief on the countess'
+little table, and Anna Mikhaylovna noticed that something was agitating
+her.
+
+"Well, my dear?" asked the countess.
+
+"Oh, what a terrible state he is in! One would not know him, he is so
+ill! I was only there a few moments and hardly said a word..."
+
+"Annette, for heaven's sake don't refuse me," the countess began, with a
+blush that looked very strange on her thin, dignified, elderly face, and
+she took the money from under the handkerchief.
+
+Anna Mikhaylovna instantly guessed her intention and stooped to be ready
+to embrace the countess at the appropriate moment.
+
+"This is for Boris from me, for his outfit."
+
+Anna Mikhaylovna was already embracing her and weeping. The countess
+wept too. They wept because they were friends, and because they were
+kindhearted, and because they--friends from childhood--had to think
+about such a base thing as money, and because their youth was over....
+But those tears were pleasant to them both.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+Countess Rostova, with her daughters and a large number of guests, was
+already seated in the drawing room. The count took the gentlemen into
+his study and showed them his choice collection of Turkish pipes. From
+time to time he went out to ask: "Hasn't she come yet?" They were
+expecting Marya Dmitrievna Akhrosimova, known in society as le terrible
+dragon, a lady distinguished not for wealth or rank, but for common
+sense and frank plainness of speech. Marya Dmitrievna was known to the
+Imperial family as well as to all Moscow and Petersburg, and both cities
+wondered at her, laughed privately at her rudenesses, and told good
+stories about her, while none the less all without exception respected
+and feared her.
+
+In the count's room, which was full of tobacco smoke, they talked of war
+that had been announced in a manifesto, and about the recruiting. None
+of them had yet seen the manifesto, but they all knew it had appeared.
+The count sat on the sofa between two guests who were smoking and
+talking. He neither smoked nor talked, but bending his head first to one
+side and then to the other watched the smokers with evident pleasure and
+listened to the conversation of his two neighbors, whom he egged on
+against each other.
+
+One of them was a sallow, clean-shaven civilian with a thin and wrinkled
+face, already growing old, though he was dressed like a most fashionable
+young man. He sat with his legs up on the sofa as if quite at home and,
+having stuck an amber mouthpiece far into his mouth, was inhaling the
+smoke spasmodically and screwing up his eyes. This was an old bachelor,
+Shinshin, a cousin of the countess', a man with "a sharp tongue" as they
+said in Moscow society. He seemed to be condescending to his companion.
+The latter, a fresh, rosy officer of the Guards, irreproachably washed,
+brushed, and buttoned, held his pipe in the middle of his mouth and with
+red lips gently inhaled the smoke, letting it escape from his handsome
+mouth in rings. This was Lieutenant Berg, an officer in the Semenov
+regiment with whom Boris was to travel to join the army, and about whom
+Natasha had teased her elder sister Vera, speaking of Berg as her
+"intended." The count sat between them and listened attentively. His
+favorite occupation when not playing boston, a card game he was very
+fond of, was that of listener, especially when he succeeded in setting
+two loquacious talkers at one another.
+
+"Well, then, old chap, mon tres honorable Alphonse Karlovich," said
+Shinshin, laughing ironically and mixing the most ordinary Russian
+expressions with the choicest French phrases--which was a peculiarity of
+his speech. "Vous comptez vous faire des rentes sur l'etat; * you want
+to make something out of your company?"
+
+
+* You expect to make an income out of the government.
+
+"No, Peter Nikolaevich; I only want to show that in the cavalry the
+advantages are far less than in the infantry. Just consider my own
+position now, Peter Nikolaevich..."
+
+Berg always spoke quietly, politely, and with great precision. His
+conversation always related entirely to himself; he would remain calm
+and silent when the talk related to any topic that had no direct bearing
+on himself. He could remain silent for hours without being at all put
+out of countenance himself or making others uncomfortable, but as soon
+as the conversation concerned himself he would begin to talk
+circumstantially and with evident satisfaction.
+
+"Consider my position, Peter Nikolaevich. Were I in the cavalry I should
+get not more than two hundred rubles every four months, even with the
+rank of lieutenant; but as it is I receive two hundred and thirty," said
+he, looking at Shinshin and the count with a joyful, pleasant smile, as
+if it were obvious to him that his success must always be the chief
+desire of everyone else.
+
+"Besides that, Peter Nikolaevich, by exchanging into the Guards I shall
+be in a more prominent position," continued Berg, "and vacancies occur
+much more frequently in the Foot Guards. Then just think what can be
+done with two hundred and thirty rubles! I even manage to put a little
+aside and to send something to my father," he went on, emitting a smoke
+ring.
+
+"La balance y est... * A German knows how to skin a flint, as the
+proverb says," remarked Shinshin, moving his pipe to the other side of
+his mouth and winking at the count.
+
+
+* So that squares matters.
+
+The count burst out laughing. The other guests seeing that Shinshin was
+talking came up to listen. Berg, oblivious of irony or indifference,
+continued to explain how by exchanging into the Guards he had already
+gained a step on his old comrades of the Cadet Corps; how in wartime the
+company commander might get killed and he, as senior in the company,
+might easily succeed to the post; how popular he was with everyone in
+the regiment, and how satisfied his father was with him. Berg evidently
+enjoyed narrating all this, and did not seem to suspect that others,
+too, might have their own interests. But all he said was so prettily
+sedate, and the naivete of his youthful egotism was so obvious, that he
+disarmed his hearers.
+
+"Well, my boy, you'll get along wherever you go--foot or horse--that
+I'll warrant," said Shinshin, patting him on the shoulder and taking his
+feet off the sofa.
+
+Berg smiled joyously. The count, by his guests, went into the drawing
+room.
+
+It was just the moment before a big dinner when the assembled guests,
+expecting the summons to zakuska, * avoid engaging in any long
+conversation but think it necessary to move about and talk, in order to
+show that they are not at all impatient for their food. The host and
+hostess look toward the door, and now and then glance at one another,
+and the visitors try to guess from these glances who, or what, they are
+waiting for--some important relation who has not yet arrived, or a dish
+that is not yet ready.
+
+
+* Hors d'oeuvres.
+
+Pierre had come just at dinnertime and was sitting awkwardly in the
+middle of the drawing room on the first chair he had come across,
+blocking the way for everyone. The countess tried to make him talk, but
+he went on naively looking around through his spectacles as if in search
+of somebody and answered all her questions in monosyllables. He was in
+the way and was the only one who did not notice the fact. Most of the
+guests, knowing of the affair with the bear, looked with curiosity at
+this big, stout, quiet man, wondering how such a clumsy, modest fellow
+could have played such a prank on a policeman.
+
+"You have only lately arrived?" the countess asked him.
+
+"Oui, madame," replied he, looking around him.
+
+"You have not yet seen my husband?"
+
+"Non, madame." He smiled quite inappropriately.
+
+"You have been in Paris recently, I believe? I suppose it's very
+interesting."
+
+"Very interesting."
+
+The countess exchanged glances with Anna Mikhaylovna. The latter
+understood that she was being asked to entertain this young man, and
+sitting down beside him she began to speak about his father; but he
+answered her, as he had the countess, only in monosyllables. The other
+guests were all conversing with one another. "The Razumovskis... It was
+charming... You are very kind... Countess Apraksina..." was heard on all
+sides. The countess rose and went into the ballroom.
+
+"Marya Dmitrievna?" came her voice from there.
+
+"Herself," came the answer in a rough voice, and Marya Dmitrievna
+entered the room.
+
+All the unmarried ladies and even the married ones except the very
+oldest rose. Marya Dmitrievna paused at the door. Tall and stout,
+holding high her fifty-year-old head with its gray curls, she stood
+surveying the guests, and leisurely arranged her wide sleeves as if
+rolling them up. Marya Dmitrievna always spoke in Russian.
+
+"Health and happiness to her whose name day we are keeping and to her
+children," she said, in her loud, full-toned voice which drowned all
+others. "Well, you old sinner," she went on, turning to the count who
+was kissing her hand, "you're feeling dull in Moscow, I daresay? Nowhere
+to hunt with your dogs? But what is to be done, old man? Just see how
+these nestlings are growing up," and she pointed to the girls. "You must
+look for husbands for them whether you like it or not...."
+
+"Well," said she, "how's my Cossack?" (Marya Dmitrievna always called
+Natasha a Cossack) and she stroked the child's arm as she came up
+fearless and gay to kiss her hand. "I know she's a scamp of a girl, but
+I like her."
+
+She took a pair of pear-shaped ruby earrings from her huge reticule and,
+having given them to the rosy Natasha, who beamed with the pleasure of
+her saint's-day fete, turned away at once and addressed herself to
+Pierre.
+
+"Eh, eh, friend! Come here a bit," said she, assuming a soft high tone
+of voice. "Come here, my friend..." and she ominously tucked up her
+sleeves still higher. Pierre approached, looking at her in a childlike
+way through his spectacles.
+
+"Come nearer, come nearer, friend! I used to be the only one to tell
+your father the truth when he was in favor, and in your case it's my
+evident duty." She paused. All were silent, expectant of what was to
+follow, for this was clearly only a prelude.
+
+"A fine lad! My word! A fine lad!... His father lies on his deathbed and
+he amuses himself setting a policeman astride a bear! For shame, sir,
+for shame! It would be better if you went to the war."
+
+She turned away and gave her hand to the count, who could hardly keep
+from laughing.
+
+"Well, I suppose it is time we were at table?" said Marya Dmitrievna.
+
+The count went in first with Marya Dmitrievna, the countess followed on
+the arm of a colonel of hussars, a man of importance to them because
+Nicholas was to go with him to the regiment; then came Anna Mikhaylovna
+with Shinshin. Berg gave his arm to Vera. The smiling Julie Karagina
+went in with Nicholas. After them other couples followed, filling the
+whole dining hall, and last of all the children, tutors, and governesses
+followed singly. The footmen began moving about, chairs scraped, the
+band struck up in the gallery, and the guests settled down in their
+places. Then the strains of the count's household band were replaced by
+the clatter of knives and forks, the voices of visitors, and the soft
+steps of the footmen. At one end of the table sat the countess with
+Marya Dmitrievna on her right and Anna Mikhaylovna on her left, the
+other lady visitors were farther down. At the other end sat the count,
+with the hussar colonel on his left and Shinshin and the other male
+visitors on his right. Midway down the long table on one side sat the
+grownup young people: Vera beside Berg, and Pierre beside Boris; and on
+the other side, the children, tutors, and governesses. From behind the
+crystal decanters and fruit vases, the count kept glancing at his wife
+and her tall cap with its light-blue ribbons, and busily filled his
+neighbors' glasses, not neglecting his own. The countess in turn,
+without omitting her duties as hostess, threw significant glances from
+behind the pineapples at her husband whose face and bald head seemed by
+their redness to contrast more than usual with his gray hair. At the
+ladies' end an even chatter of voices was heard all the time, at the
+men's end the voices sounded louder and louder, especially that of the
+colonel of hussars who, growing more and more flushed, ate and drank so
+much that the count held him up as a pattern to the other guests. Berg
+with tender smiles was saying to Vera that love is not an earthly but a
+heavenly feeling. Boris was telling his new friend Pierre who the guests
+were and exchanging glances with Natasha, who was sitting opposite.
+Pierre spoke little but examined the new faces, and ate a great deal. Of
+the two soups he chose turtle with savory patties and went on to the
+game without omitting a single dish or one of the wines. These latter
+the butler thrust mysteriously forward, wrapped in a napkin, from behind
+the next man's shoulders and whispered: "Dry Madeira"... "Hungarian"...
+or "Rhine wine" as the case might be. Of the four crystal glasses
+engraved with the count's monogram that stood before his plate, Pierre
+held out one at random and drank with enjoyment, gazing with ever-
+increasing amiability at the other guests. Natasha, who sat opposite,
+was looking at Boris as girls of thirteen look at the boy they are in
+love with and have just kissed for the first time. Sometimes that same
+look fell on Pierre, and that funny lively little girl's look made him
+inclined to laugh without knowing why.
+
+Nicholas sat at some distance from Sonya, beside Julie Karagina, to whom
+he was again talking with the same involuntary smile. Sonya wore a
+company smile but was evidently tormented by jealousy; now she turned
+pale, now blushed and strained every nerve to overhear what Nicholas and
+Julie were saying to one another. The governess kept looking round
+uneasily as if preparing to resent any slight that might be put upon the
+children. The German tutor was trying to remember all the dishes, wines,
+and kinds of dessert, in order to send a full description of the dinner
+to his people in Germany; and he felt greatly offended when the butler
+with a bottle wrapped in a napkin passed him by. He frowned, trying to
+appear as if he did not want any of that wine, but was mortified because
+no one would understand that it was not to quench his thirst or from
+greediness that he wanted it, but simply from a conscientious desire for
+knowledge.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+At the men's end of the table the talk grew more and more animated. The
+colonel told them that the declaration of war had already appeared in
+Petersburg and that a copy, which he had himself seen, had that day been
+forwarded by courier to the commander-in-chief.
+
+"And why the deuce are we going to fight Bonaparte?" remarked Shinshin.
+"He has stopped Austria's cackle and I fear it will be our turn next."
+
+The colonel was a stout, tall, plethoric German, evidently devoted to
+the service and patriotically Russian. He resented Shinshin's remark.
+
+"It is for the reasson, my goot sir," said he, speaking with a German
+accent, "for the reasson zat ze Emperor knows zat. He declares in ze
+manifessto zat he cannot fiew wiz indifference ze danger vreatening
+Russia and zat ze safety and dignity of ze Empire as vell as ze sanctity
+of its alliances..." he spoke this last word with particular emphasis as
+if in it lay the gist of the matter.
+
+Then with the unerring official memory that characterized him he
+repeated from the opening words of the manifesto:
+
+... and the wish, which constitutes the Emperor's sole and absolute aim-
+-to establish peace in Europe on firm foundations--has now decided him
+to despatch part of the army abroad and to create a new condition for
+the attainment of that purpose.
+
+"Zat, my dear sir, is vy..." he concluded, drinking a tumbler of wine
+with dignity and looking to the count for approval.
+
+"Connaissez-vous le Proverbe: * 'Jerome, Jerome, do not roam, but turn
+spindles at home!'?" said Shinshin, puckering his brows and smiling.
+"Cela nous convient a merveille.*(2) Suvorov now--he knew what he was
+about; yet they beat him a plate couture,*(3) and where are we to find
+Suvorovs now? Je vous demande un peu,"*(4) said he, continually changing
+from French to Russian.
+
+
+*Do you know the proverb?
+
+*(2) That suits us down to the ground.
+
+*(3) Hollow.
+
+*(4) I just ask you that.
+
+"Ve must vight to the last tr-r-op of our plood!" said the colonel,
+thumping the table; "and ve must tie for our Emperor, and zen all vill
+pe vell. And ve must discuss it as little as po-o-ossible"... he dwelt
+particularly on the word possible... "as po-o-ossible," he ended, again
+turning to the count. "Zat is how ve old hussars look at it, and zere's
+an end of it! And how do you, a young man and a young hussar, how do you
+judge of it?" he added, addressing Nicholas, who when he heard that the
+war was being discussed had turned from his partner with eyes and ears
+intent on the colonel.
+
+"I am quite of your opinion," replied Nicholas, flaming up, turning his
+plate round and moving his wineglasses about with as much decision and
+desperation as though he were at that moment facing some great danger.
+"I am convinced that we Russians must die or conquer," he concluded,
+conscious--as were others--after the words were uttered that his remarks
+were too enthusiastic and emphatic for the occasion and were therefore
+awkward.
+
+"What you said just now was splendid!" said his partner Julie.
+
+Sonya trembled all over and blushed to her ears and behind them and down
+to her neck and shoulders while Nicholas was speaking.
+
+Pierre listened to the colonel's speech and nodded approvingly.
+
+"That's fine," said he.
+
+"The young man's a real hussar!" shouted the colonel, again thumping the
+table.
+
+"What are you making such a noise about over there?" Marya Dmitrievna's
+deep voice suddenly inquired from the other end of the table. "What are
+you thumping the table for?" she demanded of the hussar, "and why are
+you exciting yourself? Do you think the French are here?"
+
+"I am speaking ze truce," replied the hussar with a smile.
+
+"It's all about the war," the count shouted down the table. "You know my
+son's going, Marya Dmitrievna? My son is going."
+
+"I have four sons in the army but still I don't fret. It is all in God's
+hands. You may die in your bed or God may spare you in a battle,"
+replied Marya Dmitrievna's deep voice, which easily carried the whole
+length of the table.
+
+"That's true!"
+
+Once more the conversations concentrated, the ladies' at the one end and
+the men's at the other.
+
+"You won't ask," Natasha's little brother was saying; "I know you won't
+ask!"
+
+"I will," replied Natasha.
+
+Her face suddenly flushed with reckless and joyous resolution. She half
+rose, by a glance inviting Pierre, who sat opposite, to listen to what
+was coming, and turning to her mother:
+
+"Mamma!" rang out the clear contralto notes of her childish voice,
+audible the whole length of the table.
+
+"What is it?" asked the countess, startled; but seeing by her daughter's
+face that it was only mischief, she shook a finger at her sternly with a
+threatening and forbidding movement of her head.
+
+The conversation was hushed.
+
+"Mamma! What sweets are we going to have?" and Natasha's voice sounded
+still more firm and resolute.
+
+The countess tried to frown, but could not. Marya Dmitrievna shook her
+fat finger.
+
+"Cossack!" she said threateningly.
+
+Most of the guests, uncertain how to regard this sally, looked at the
+elders.
+
+"You had better take care!" said the countess.
+
+"Mamma! What sweets are we going to have?" Natasha again cried boldly,
+with saucy gaiety, confident that her prank would be taken in good part.
+
+Sonya and fat little Petya doubled up with laughter.
+
+"You see! I have asked," whispered Natasha to her little brother and to
+Pierre, glancing at him again.
+
+"Ice pudding, but you won't get any," said Marya Dmitrievna.
+
+Natasha saw there was nothing to be afraid of and so she braved even
+Marya Dmitrievna.
+
+"Marya Dmitrievna! What kind of ice pudding? I don't like ice cream."
+
+"Carrot ices."
+
+"No! What kind, Marya Dmitrievna? What kind?" she almost screamed; "I
+want to know!"
+
+Marya Dmitrievna and the countess burst out laughing, and all the guests
+joined in. Everyone laughed, not at Marya Dmitrievna's answer but at the
+incredible boldness and smartness of this little girl who had dared to
+treat Marya Dmitrievna in this fashion.
+
+Natasha only desisted when she had been told that there would be
+pineapple ice. Before the ices, champagne was served round. The band
+again struck up, the count and countess kissed, and the guests, leaving
+their seats, went up to "congratulate" the countess, and reached across
+the table to clink glasses with the count, with the children, and with
+one another. Again the footmen rushed about, chairs scraped, and in the
+same order in which they had entered but with redder faces, the guests
+returned to the drawing room and to the count's study.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+The card tables were drawn out, sets made up for boston, and the count's
+visitors settled themselves, some in the two drawing rooms, some in the
+sitting room, some in the library.
+
+The count, holding his cards fanwise, kept himself with difficulty from
+dropping into his usual after-dinner nap, and laughed at everything. The
+young people, at the countess' instigation, gathered round the
+clavichord and harp. Julie by general request played first. After she
+had played a little air with variations on the harp, she joined the
+other young ladies in begging Natasha and Nicholas, who were noted for
+their musical talent, to sing something. Natasha, who was treated as
+though she were grown up, was evidently very proud of this but at the
+same time felt shy.
+
+"What shall we sing?" she said.
+
+"'The Brook,'" suggested Nicholas.
+
+"Well, then, let's be quick. Boris, come here," said Natasha. "But where
+is Sonya?"
+
+She looked round and seeing that her friend was not in the room ran to
+look for her.
+
+Running into Sonya's room and not finding her there, Natasha ran to the
+nursery, but Sonya was not there either. Natasha concluded that she must
+be on the chest in the passage. The chest in the passage was the place
+of mourning for the younger female generation in the Rostov household.
+And there in fact was Sonya lying face downward on Nurse's dirty feather
+bed on the top of the chest, crumpling her gauzy pink dress under her,
+hiding her face with her slender fingers, and sobbing so convulsively
+that her bare little shoulders shook. Natasha's face, which had been so
+radiantly happy all that saint's day, suddenly changed: her eyes became
+fixed, and then a shiver passed down her broad neck and the corners of
+her mouth drooped.
+
+"Sonya! What is it? What is the matter?... Oo... Oo... Oo...!" And
+Natasha's large mouth widened, making her look quite ugly, and she began
+to wail like a baby without knowing why, except that Sonya was crying.
+Sonya tried to lift her head to answer but could not, and hid her face
+still deeper in the bed. Natasha wept, sitting on the blue-striped
+feather bed and hugging her friend. With an effort Sonya sat up and
+began wiping her eyes and explaining.
+
+"Nicholas is going away in a week's time, his... papers... have come...
+he told me himself... but still I should not cry," and she showed a
+paper she held in her hand--with the verses Nicholas had written,
+"still, I should not cry, but you can't... no one can understand... what
+a soul he has!"
+
+And she began to cry again because he had such a noble soul.
+
+"It's all very well for you... I am not envious... I love you and Boris
+also," she went on, gaining a little strength; "he is nice... there are
+no difficulties in your way.... But Nicholas is my cousin... one would
+have to... the Metropolitan himself... and even then it can't be done.
+And besides, if she tells Mamma" (Sonya looked upon the countess as her
+mother and called her so) "that I am spoiling Nicholas' career and am
+heartless and ungrateful, while truly... God is my witness," and she
+made the sign of the cross, "I love her so much, and all of you, only
+Vera... And what for? What have I done to her? I am so grateful to you
+that I would willingly sacrifice everything, only I have nothing...."
+
+Sonya could not continue, and again hid her face in her hands and in the
+feather bed. Natasha began consoling her, but her face showed that she
+understood all the gravity of her friend's trouble.
+
+"Sonya," she suddenly exclaimed, as if she had guessed the true reason
+of her friend's sorrow, "I'm sure Vera has said something to you since
+dinner? Hasn't she?"
+
+"Yes, these verses Nicholas wrote himself and I copied some others, and
+she found them on my table and said she'd show them to Mamma, and that I
+was ungrateful, and that Mamma would never allow him to marry me, but
+that he'll marry Julie. You see how he's been with her all day...
+Natasha, what have I done to deserve it?..."
+
+And again she began to sob, more bitterly than before. Natasha lifted
+her up, hugged her, and, smiling through her tears, began comforting
+her.
+
+"Sonya, don't believe her, darling! Don't believe her! Do you remember
+how we and Nicholas, all three of us, talked in the sitting room after
+supper? Why, we settled how everything was to be. I don't quite remember
+how, but don't you remember that it could all be arranged and how nice
+it all was? There's Uncle Shinshin's brother has married his first
+cousin. And we are only second cousins, you know. And Boris says it is
+quite possible. You know I have told him all about it. And he is so
+clever and so good!" said Natasha. "Don't you cry, Sonya, dear love,
+darling Sonya!" and she kissed her and laughed. "Vera's spiteful; never
+mind her! And all will come right and she won't say anything to Mamma.
+Nicholas will tell her himself, and he doesn't care at all for Julie."
+
+Natasha kissed her on the hair.
+
+Sonya sat up. The little kitten brightened, its eyes shone, and it
+seemed ready to lift its tail, jump down on its soft paws, and begin
+playing with the ball of worsted as a kitten should.
+
+"Do you think so?... Really? Truly?" she said, quickly smoothing her
+frock and hair.
+
+"Really, truly!" answered Natasha, pushing in a crisp lock that had
+strayed from under her friend's plaits.
+
+Both laughed.
+
+"Well, let's go and sing 'The Brook.'"
+
+"Come along!"
+
+"Do you know, that fat Pierre who sat opposite me is so funny!" said
+Natasha, stopping suddenly. "I feel so happy!"
+
+And she set off at a run along the passage.
+
+Sonya, shaking off some down which clung to her and tucking away the
+verses in the bosom of her dress close to her bony little chest, ran
+after Natasha down the passage into the sitting room with flushed face
+and light, joyous steps. At the visitors' request the young people sang
+the quartette, "The Brook," with which everyone was delighted. Then
+Nicholas sang a song he had just learned:
+
+
+At nighttime in the moon's fair glow How sweet, as fancies wander free,
+To feel that in this world there's one Who still is thinking but of
+thee!
+
+That while her fingers touch the harp Wafting sweet music o'er the lea,
+It is for thee thus swells her heart, Sighing its message out to thee...
+
+A day or two, then bliss unspoilt, But oh! till then I cannot live!...
+
+He had not finished the last verse before the young people began to get
+ready to dance in the large hall, and the sound of the feet and the
+coughing of the musicians were heard from the gallery.
+
+Pierre was sitting in the drawing-room where Shinshin had engaged him,
+as a man recently returned from abroad, in a political conversation in
+which several others joined but which bored Pierre. When the music began
+Natasha came in and walking straight up to Pierre said, laughing and
+blushing:
+
+"Mamma told me to ask you to join the dancers."
+
+"I am afraid of mixing the figures," Pierre replied; "but if you will be
+my teacher..." And lowering his big arm he offered it to the slender
+little girl.
+
+While the couples were arranging themselves and the musicians tuning up,
+Pierre sat down with his little partner. Natasha was perfectly happy;
+she was dancing with a grown-up man, who had been abroad. She was
+sitting in a conspicuous place and talking to him like a grown-up lady.
+She had a fan in her hand that one of the ladies had given her to hold.
+Assuming quite the pose of a society woman (heaven knows when and where
+she had learned it) she talked with her partner, fanning herself and
+smiling over the fan.
+
+"Dear, dear! Just look at her!" exclaimed the countess as she crossed
+the ballroom, pointing to Natasha.
+
+Natasha blushed and laughed.
+
+"Well, really, Mamma! Why should you? What is there to be surprised at?"
+
+In the midst of the third ecossaise there was a clatter of chairs being
+pushed back in the sitting room where the count and Marya Dmitrievna had
+been playing cards with the majority of the more distinguished and older
+visitors. They now, stretching themselves after sitting so long, and
+replacing their purses and pocketbooks, entered the ballroom. First came
+Marya Dmitrievna and the count, both with merry countenances. The count,
+with playful ceremony somewhat in ballet style, offered his bent arm to
+Marya Dmitrievna. He drew himself up, a smile of debonair gallantry lit
+up his face and as soon as the last figure of the ecossaise was ended,
+he clapped his hands to the musicians and shouted up to their gallery,
+addressing the first violin:
+
+"Semen! Do you know the Daniel Cooper?"
+
+This was the count's favorite dance, which he had danced in his youth.
+(Strictly speaking, Daniel Cooper was one figure of the anglaise.)
+
+"Look at Papa!" shouted Natasha to the whole company, and quite
+forgetting that she was dancing with a grown-up partner she bent her
+curly head to her knees and made the whole room ring with her laughter.
+
+And indeed everybody in the room looked with a smile of pleasure at the
+jovial old gentleman, who standing beside his tall and stout partner,
+Marya Dmitrievna, curved his arms, beat time, straightened his
+shoulders, turned out his toes, tapped gently with his foot, and, by a
+smile that broadened his round face more and more, prepared the
+onlookers for what was to follow. As soon as the provocatively gay
+strains of Daniel Cooper (somewhat resembling those of a merry peasant
+dance) began to sound, all the doorways of the ballroom were suddenly
+filled by the domestic serfs--the men on one side and the women on the
+other--who with beaming faces had come to see their master making merry.
+
+"Just look at the master! A regular eagle he is!" loudly remarked the
+nurse, as she stood in one of the doorways.
+
+The count danced well and knew it. But his partner could not and did not
+want to dance well. Her enormous figure stood erect, her powerful arms
+hanging down (she had handed her reticule to the countess), and only her
+stern but handsome face really joined in the dance. What was expressed
+by the whole of the count's plump figure, in Marya Dmitrievna found
+expression only in her more and more beaming face and quivering nose.
+But if the count, getting more and more into the swing of it, charmed
+the spectators by the unexpectedness of his adroit maneuvers and the
+agility with which he capered about on his light feet, Marya Dmitrievna
+produced no less impression by slight exertions--the least effort to
+move her shoulders or bend her arms when turning, or stamp her foot--
+which everyone appreciated in view of her size and habitual severity.
+The dance grew livelier and livelier. The other couples could not
+attract a moment's attention to their own evolutions and did not even
+try to do so. All were watching the count and Marya Dmitrievna. Natasha
+kept pulling everyone by sleeve or dress, urging them to "look at Papa!"
+though as it was they never took their eyes off the couple. In the
+intervals of the dance the count, breathing deeply, waved and shouted to
+the musicians to play faster. Faster, faster, and faster; lightly, more
+lightly, and yet more lightly whirled the count, flying round Marya
+Dmitrievna, now on his toes, now on his heels; until, turning his
+partner round to her seat, he executed the final pas, raising his soft
+foot backwards, bowing his perspiring head, smiling and making a wide
+sweep with his arm, amid a thunder of applause and laughter led by
+Natasha. Both partners stood still, breathing heavily and wiping their
+faces with their cambric handkerchiefs.
+
+"That's how we used to dance in our time, ma chere," said the count.
+
+"That was a Daniel Cooper!" exclaimed Marya Dmitrievna, tucking up her
+sleeves and puffing heavily.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+While in the Rostovs' ballroom the sixth anglaise was being danced, to a
+tune in which the weary musicians blundered, and while tired footmen and
+cooks were getting the supper, Count Bezukhov had a sixth stroke. The
+doctors pronounced recovery impossible. After a mute confession,
+communion was administered to the dying man, preparations made for the
+sacrament of unction, and in his house there was the bustle and thrill
+of suspense usual at such moments. Outside the house, beyond the gates,
+a group of undertakers, who hid whenever a carriage drove up, waited in
+expectation of an important order for an expensive funeral. The Military
+Governor of Moscow, who had been assiduous in sending aides-de-camp to
+inquire after the count's health, came himself that evening to bid a
+last farewell to the celebrated grandee of Catherine's court, Count
+Bezukhov.
+
+The magnificent reception room was crowded. Everyone stood up
+respectfully when the Military Governor, having stayed about half an
+hour alone with the dying man, passed out, slightly acknowledging their
+bows and trying to escape as quickly as possible from the glances fixed
+on him by the doctors, clergy, and relatives of the family. Prince
+Vasili, who had grown thinner and paler during the last few days,
+escorted him to the door, repeating something to him several times in
+low tones.
+
+When the Military Governor had gone, Prince Vasili sat down all alone on
+a chair in the ballroom, crossing one leg high over the other, leaning
+his elbow on his knee and covering his face with his hand. After sitting
+so for a while he rose, and, looking about him with frightened eyes,
+went with unusually hurried steps down the long corridor leading to the
+back of the house, to the room of the eldest princess.
+
+Those who were in the dimly lit reception room spoke in nervous
+whispers, and, whenever anyone went into or came from the dying man's
+room, grew silent and gazed with eyes full of curiosity or expectancy at
+his door, which creaked slightly when opened.
+
+"The limits of human life... are fixed and may not be o'erpassed," said
+an old priest to a lady who had taken a seat beside him and was
+listening naively to his words.
+
+"I wonder, is it not too late to administer unction?" asked the lady,
+adding the priest's clerical title, as if she had no opinion of her own
+on the subject.
+
+"Ah, madam, it is a great sacrament," replied the priest, passing his
+hand over the thin grizzled strands of hair combed back across his bald
+head.
+
+"Who was that? The Military Governor himself?" was being asked at the
+other side of the room. "How young-looking he is!"
+
+"Yes, and he is over sixty. I hear the count no longer recognizes
+anyone. They wished to administer the sacrament of unction."
+
+"I knew someone who received that sacrament seven times."
+
+The second princess had just come from the sickroom with her eyes red
+from weeping and sat down beside Dr. Lorrain, who was sitting in a
+graceful pose under a portrait of Catherine, leaning his elbow on a
+table.
+
+"Beautiful," said the doctor in answer to a remark about the weather.
+"The weather is beautiful, Princess; and besides, in Moscow one feels as
+if one were in the country."
+
+"Yes, indeed," replied the princess with a sigh. "So he may have
+something to drink?"
+
+Lorrain considered.
+
+"Has he taken his medicine?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The doctor glanced at his watch.
+
+"Take a glass of boiled water and put a pinch of cream of tartar," and
+he indicated with his delicate fingers what he meant by a pinch.
+
+"Dere has neffer been a gase," a German doctor was saying to an aide-de-
+camp, "dat one liffs after de sird stroke."
+
+"And what a well-preserved man he was!" remarked the aide-de-camp. "And
+who will inherit his wealth?" he added in a whisper.
+
+"It von't go begging," replied the German with a smile.
+
+Everyone again looked toward the door, which creaked as the second
+princess went in with the drink she had prepared according to Lorrain's
+instructions. The German doctor went up to Lorrain.
+
+"Do you think he can last till morning?" asked the German, addressing
+Lorrain in French which he pronounced badly.
+
+Lorrain, pursing up his lips, waved a severely negative finger before
+his nose.
+
+"Tonight, not later," said he in a low voice, and he moved away with a
+decorous smile of self-satisfaction at being able clearly to understand
+and state the patient's condition.
+
+Meanwhile Prince Vasili had opened the door into the princess' room.
+
+In this room it was almost dark; only two tiny lamps were burning before
+the icons and there was a pleasant scent of flowers and burnt pastilles.
+The room was crowded with small pieces of furniture, whatnots,
+cupboards, and little tables. The quilt of a high, white feather bed was
+just visible behind a screen. A small dog began to bark.
+
+"Ah, is it you, cousin?"
+
+She rose and smoothed her hair, which was as usual so extremely smooth
+that it seemed to be made of one piece with her head and covered with
+varnish.
+
+"Has anything happened?" she asked. "I am so terrified."
+
+"No, there is no change. I only came to have a talk about business,
+Catiche," * muttered the prince, seating himself wearily on the chair
+she had just vacated. "You have made the place warm, I must say," he
+remarked. "Well, sit down: let's have a talk."
+
+
+*Catherine.
+
+"I thought perhaps something had happened," she said with her unchanging
+stonily severe expression; and, sitting down opposite the prince, she
+prepared to listen.
+
+"I wished to get a nap, mon cousin, but I can't."
+
+"Well, my dear?" said Prince Vasili, taking her hand and bending it
+downwards as was his habit.
+
+It was plain that this "well?" referred to much that they both
+understood without naming.
+
+The princess, who had a straight, rigid body, abnormally long for her
+legs, looked directly at Prince Vasili with no sign of emotion in her
+prominent gray eyes. Then she shook her head and glanced up at the icons
+with a sigh. This might have been taken as an expression of sorrow and
+devotion, or of weariness and hope of resting before long. Prince Vasili
+understood it as an expression of weariness.
+
+"And I?" he said; "do you think it is easier for me? I am as worn out as
+a post horse, but still I must have a talk with you, Catiche, a very
+serious talk."
+
+Prince Vasili said no more and his cheeks began to twitch nervously, now
+on one side, now on the other, giving his face an unpleasant expression
+which was never to be seen on it in a drawing room. His eyes too seemed
+strange; at one moment they looked impudently sly and at the next
+glanced round in alarm.
+
+The princess, holding her little dog on her lap with her thin bony
+hands, looked attentively into Prince Vasili's eyes evidently resolved
+not to be the first to break silence, if she had to wait till morning.
+
+"Well, you see, my dear princess and cousin, Catherine Semenovna,"
+continued Prince Vasili, returning to his theme, apparently not without
+an inner struggle; "at such a moment as this one must think of
+everything. One must think of the future, of all of you... I love you
+all, like children of my own, as you know."
+
+The princess continued to look at him without moving, and with the same
+dull expression.
+
+"And then of course my family has also to be considered," Prince Vasili
+went on, testily pushing away a little table without looking at her.
+"You know, Catiche, that we--you three sisters, Mamontov, and my wife--
+are the count's only direct heirs. I know, I know how hard it is for you
+to talk or think of such matters. It is no easier for me; but, my dear,
+I am getting on for sixty and must be prepared for anything. Do you know
+I have sent for Pierre? The count," pointing to his portrait,
+"definitely demanded that he should be called."
+
+Prince Vasili looked questioningly at the princess, but could not make
+out whether she was considering what he had just said or whether she was
+simply looking at him.
+
+"There is one thing I constantly pray God to grant, mon cousin," she
+replied, "and it is that He would be merciful to him and would allow his
+noble soul peacefully to leave this..."
+
+"Yes, yes, of course," interrupted Prince Vasili impatiently, rubbing
+his bald head and angrily pulling back toward him the little table that
+he had pushed away. "But... in short, the fact is... you know yourself
+that last winter the count made a will by which he left all his
+property, not to us his direct heirs, but to Pierre."
+
+"He has made wills enough!" quietly remarked the princess. "But he
+cannot leave the estate to Pierre. Pierre is illegitimate."
+
+"But, my dear," said Prince Vasili suddenly, clutching the little table
+and becoming more animated and talking more rapidly: "what if a letter
+has been written to the Emperor in which the count asks for Pierre's
+legitimation? Do you understand that in consideration of the count's
+services, his request would be granted?..."
+
+The princess smiled as people do who think they know more about the
+subject under discussion than those they are talking with.
+
+"I can tell you more," continued Prince Vasili, seizing her hand, "that
+letter was written, though it was not sent, and the Emperor knew of it.
+The only question is, has it been destroyed or not? If not, then as soon
+as all is over," and Prince Vasili sighed to intimate what he meant by
+the words all is over, "and the count's papers are opened, the will and
+letter will be delivered to the Emperor, and the petition will certainly
+be granted. Pierre will get everything as the legitimate son."
+
+"And our share?" asked the princess smiling ironically, as if anything
+might happen, only not that.
+
+"But, my poor Catiche, it is as clear as daylight! He will then be the
+legal heir to everything and you won't get anything. You must know, my
+dear, whether the will and letter were written, and whether they have
+been destroyed or not. And if they have somehow been overlooked, you
+ought to know where they are, and must find them, because..."
+
+"What next?" the princess interrupted, smiling sardonically and not
+changing the expression of her eyes. "I am a woman, and you think we are
+all stupid; but I know this: an illegitimate son cannot inherit... un
+batard!" * she added, as if supposing that this translation of the word
+would effectively prove to Prince Vasili the invalidity of his
+contention.
+
+
+* A bastard.
+
+"Well, really, Catiche! Can't you understand! You are so intelligent,
+how is it you don't see that if the count has written a letter to the
+Emperor begging him to recognize Pierre as legitimate, it follows that
+Pierre will not be Pierre but will become Count Bezukhov, and will then
+inherit everything under the will? And if the will and letter are not
+destroyed, then you will have nothing but the consolation of having been
+dutiful et tout ce qui s'ensuit! * That's certain."
+
+
+* And all that follows therefrom.
+
+"I know the will was made, but I also know that it is invalid; and you,
+mon cousin, seem to consider me a perfect fool," said the princess with
+the expression women assume when they suppose they are saying something
+witty and stinging.
+
+"My dear Princess Catherine Semenovna," began Prince Vasili impatiently,
+"I came here not to wrangle with you, but to talk about your interests
+as with a kinswoman, a good, kind, true relation. And I tell you for the
+tenth time that if the letter to the Emperor and the will in Pierre's
+favor are among the count's papers, then, my dear girl, you and your
+sisters are not heiresses! If you don't believe me, then believe an
+expert. I have just been talking to Dmitri Onufrich" (the family
+solicitor) "and he says the same."
+
+At this a sudden change evidently took place in the princess' ideas; her
+thin lips grew white, though her eyes did not change, and her voice when
+she began to speak passed through such transitions as she herself
+evidently did not expect.
+
+"That would be a fine thing!" said she. "I never wanted anything and I
+don't now."
+
+She pushed the little dog off her lap and smoothed her dress.
+
+"And this is gratitude--this is recognition for those who have
+sacrificed everything for his sake!" she cried. "It's splendid! Fine! I
+don't want anything, Prince."
+
+"Yes, but you are not the only one. There are your sisters..." replied
+Prince Vasili.
+
+But the princess did not listen to him.
+
+"Yes, I knew it long ago but had forgotten. I knew that I could expect
+nothing but meanness, deceit, envy, intrigue, and ingratitude--the
+blackest ingratitude--in this house..."
+
+"Do you or do you not know where that will is?" insisted Prince Vasili,
+his cheeks twitching more than ever.
+
+"Yes, I was a fool! I still believed in people, loved them, and
+sacrificed myself. But only the base, the vile succeed! I know who has
+been intriguing!"
+
+The princess wished to rise, but the prince held her by the hand. She
+had the air of one who has suddenly lost faith in the whole human race.
+She gave her companion an angry glance.
+
+"There is still time, my dear. You must remember, Catiche, that it was
+all done casually in a moment of anger, of illness, and was afterwards
+forgotten. Our duty, my dear, is to rectify his mistake, to ease his
+last moments by not letting him commit this injustice, and not to let
+him die feeling that he is rendering unhappy those who..."
+
+"Who sacrificed everything for him," chimed in the princess, who would
+again have risen had not the prince still held her fast, "though he
+never could appreciate it. No, mon cousin," she added with a sigh, "I
+shall always remember that in this world one must expect no reward, that
+in this world there is neither honor nor justice. In this world one has
+to be cunning and cruel."
+
+"Now come, come! Be reasonable. I know your excellent heart."
+
+"No, I have a wicked heart."
+
+"I know your heart," repeated the prince. "I value your friendship and
+wish you to have as good an opinion of me. Don't upset yourself, and let
+us talk sensibly while there is still time, be it a day or be it but an
+hour.... Tell me all you know about the will, and above all where it is.
+You must know. We will take it at once and show it to the count. He has,
+no doubt, forgotten it and will wish to destroy it. You understand that
+my sole desire is conscientiously to carry out his wishes; that is my
+only reason for being here. I came simply to help him and you."
+
+"Now I see it all! I know who has been intriguing--I know!" cried the
+princess.
+
+"That's not the point, my dear."
+
+"It's that protege of yours, that sweet Princess Drubetskaya, that Anna
+Mikhaylovna whom I would not take for a housemaid... the infamous, vile
+woman!"
+
+"Do not let us lose any time..."
+
+"Ah, don't talk to me! Last winter she wheedled herself in here and told
+the count such vile, disgraceful things about us, especially about
+Sophie--I can't repeat them--that it made the count quite ill and he
+would not see us for a whole fortnight. I know it was then he wrote this
+vile, infamous paper, but I thought the thing was invalid."
+
+"We've got to it at last--why did you not tell me about it sooner?"
+
+"It's in the inlaid portfolio that he keeps under his pillow," said the
+princess, ignoring his question. "Now I know! Yes; if I have a sin, a
+great sin, it is hatred of that vile woman!" almost shrieked the
+princess, now quite changed. "And what does she come worming herself in
+here for? But I will give her a piece of my mind. The time will come!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+While these conversations were going on in the reception room and the
+princess' room, a carriage containing Pierre (who had been sent for) and
+Anna Mikhaylovna (who found it necessary to accompany him) was driving
+into the court of Count Bezukhov's house. As the wheels rolled softly
+over the straw beneath the windows, Anna Mikhaylovna, having turned with
+words of comfort to her companion, realized that he was asleep in his
+corner and woke him up. Rousing himself, Pierre followed Anna
+Mikhaylovna out of the carriage, and only then began to think of the
+interview with his dying father which awaited him. He noticed that they
+had not come to the front entrance but to the back door. While he was
+getting down from the carriage steps two men, who looked like
+tradespeople, ran hurriedly from the entrance and hid in the shadow of
+the wall. Pausing for a moment, Pierre noticed several other men of the
+same kind hiding in the shadow of the house on both sides. But neither
+Anna Mikhaylovna nor the footman nor the coachman, who could not help
+seeing these people, took any notice of them. "It seems to be all
+right," Pierre concluded, and followed Anna Mikhaylovna. She hurriedly
+ascended the narrow dimly lit stone staircase, calling to Pierre, who
+was lagging behind, to follow. Though he did not see why it was
+necessary for him to go to the count at all, still less why he had to go
+by the back stairs, yet judging by Anna Mikhaylovna's air of assurance
+and haste, Pierre concluded that it was all absolutely necessary.
+Halfway up the stairs they were almost knocked over by some men who,
+carrying pails, came running downstairs, their boots clattering. These
+men pressed close to the wall to let Pierre and Anna Mikhaylovna pass
+and did not evince the least surprise at seeing them there.
+
+"Is this the way to the princesses' apartments?" asked Anna Mikhaylovna
+of one of them.
+
+"Yes," replied a footman in a bold loud voice, as if anything were now
+permissible; "the door to the left, ma'am."
+
+"Perhaps the count did not ask for me," said Pierre when he reached the
+landing. "I'd better go to my own room."
+
+Anna Mikhaylovna paused and waited for him to come up.
+
+"Ah, my friend!" she said, touching his arm as she had done her son's
+when speaking to him that afternoon, "believe me I suffer no less than
+you do, but be a man!"
+
+"But really, hadn't I better go away?" he asked, looking kindly at her
+over his spectacles.
+
+"Ah, my dear friend! Forget the wrongs that may have been done you.
+Think that he is your father... perhaps in the agony of death." She
+sighed. "I have loved you like a son from the first. Trust yourself to
+me, Pierre. I shall not forget your interests."
+
+Pierre did not understand a word, but the conviction that all this had
+to be grew stronger, and he meekly followed Anna Mikhaylovna who was
+already opening a door.
+
+This door led into a back anteroom. An old man, a servant of the
+princesses, sat in a corner knitting a stocking. Pierre had never been
+in this part of the house and did not even know of the existence of
+these rooms. Anna Mikhaylovna, addressing a maid who was hurrying past
+with a decanter on a tray as "my dear" and "my sweet," asked about the
+princess' health and then led Pierre along a stone passage. The first
+door on the left led into the princesses' apartments. The maid with the
+decanter in her haste had not closed the door (everything in the house
+was done in haste at that time), and Pierre and Anna Mikhaylovna in
+passing instinctively glanced into the room, where Prince Vasili and the
+eldest princess were sitting close together talking. Seeing them pass,
+Prince Vasili drew back with obvious impatience, while the princess
+jumped up and with a gesture of desperation slammed the door with all
+her might.
+
+This action was so unlike her usual composure and the fear depicted on
+Prince Vasili's face so out of keeping with his dignity that Pierre
+stopped and glanced inquiringly over his spectacles at his guide. Anna
+Mikhaylovna evinced no surprise, she only smiled faintly and sighed, as
+if to say that this was no more than she had expected.
+
+"Be a man, my friend. I will look after your interests," said she in
+reply to his look, and went still faster along the passage.
+
+Pierre could not make out what it was all about, and still less what
+"watching over his interests" meant, but he decided that all these
+things had to be. From the passage they went into a large, dimly lit
+room adjoining the count's reception room. It was one of those sumptuous
+but cold apartments known to Pierre only from the front approach, but
+even in this room there now stood an empty bath, and water had been
+spilled on the carpet. They were met by a deacon with a censer and by a
+servant who passed out on tiptoe without heeding them. They went into
+the reception room familiar to Pierre, with two Italian windows opening
+into the conservatory, with its large bust and full length portrait of
+Catherine the Great. The same people were still sitting here in almost
+the same positions as before, whispering to one another. All became
+silent and turned to look at the pale tear-worn Anna Mikhaylovna as she
+entered, and at the big stout figure of Pierre who, hanging his head,
+meekly followed her.
+
+Anna Mikhaylovna's face expressed a consciousness that the decisive
+moment had arrived. With the air of a practical Petersburg lady she now,
+keeping Pierre close beside her, entered the room even more boldly than
+that afternoon. She felt that as she brought with her the person the
+dying man wished to see, her own admission was assured. Casting a rapid
+glance at all those in the room and noticing the count's confessor
+there, she glided up to him with a sort of amble, not exactly bowing yet
+seeming to grow suddenly smaller, and respectfully received the blessing
+first of one and then of another priest.
+
+"God be thanked that you are in time," said she to one of the priests;
+"all we relatives have been in such anxiety. This young man is the
+count's son," she added more softly. "What a terrible moment!"
+
+Having said this she went up to the doctor.
+
+"Dear doctor," said she, "this young man is the count's son. Is there
+any hope?"
+
+The doctor cast a rapid glance upwards and silently shrugged his
+shoulders. Anna Mikhaylovna with just the same movement raised her
+shoulders and eyes, almost closing the latter, sighed, and moved away
+from the doctor to Pierre. To him, in a particularly respectful and
+tenderly sad voice, she said:
+
+"Trust in His mercy!" and pointing out a small sofa for him to sit and
+wait for her, she went silently toward the door that everyone was
+watching and it creaked very slightly as she disappeared behind it.
+
+Pierre, having made up his mind to obey his monitress implicitly, moved
+toward the sofa she had indicated. As soon as Anna Mikhaylovna had
+disappeared he noticed that the eyes of all in the room turned to him
+with something more than curiosity and sympathy. He noticed that they
+whispered to one another, casting significant looks at him with a kind
+of awe and even servility. A deference such as he had never before
+received was shown him. A strange lady, the one who had been talking to
+the priests, rose and offered him her seat; an aide-de-camp picked up
+and returned a glove Pierre had dropped; the doctors became respectfully
+silent as he passed by, and moved to make way for him. At first Pierre
+wished to take another seat so as not to trouble the lady, and also to
+pick up the glove himself and to pass round the doctors who were not
+even in his way; but all at once he felt that this would not do, and
+that tonight he was a person obliged to perform some sort of awful rite
+which everyone expected of him, and that he was therefore bound to
+accept their services. He took the glove in silence from the aide-de-
+camp, and sat down in the lady's chair, placing his huge hands
+symmetrically on his knees in the naive attitude of an Egyptian statue,
+and decided in his own mind that all was as it should be, and that in
+order not to lose his head and do foolish things he must not act on his
+own ideas tonight, but must yield himself up entirely to the will of
+those who were guiding him.
+
+Not two minutes had passed before Prince Vasili with head erect
+majestically entered the room. He was wearing his long coat with three
+stars on his breast. He seemed to have grown thinner since the morning;
+his eyes seemed larger than usual when he glanced round and noticed
+Pierre. He went up to him, took his hand (a thing he never used to do),
+and drew it downwards as if wishing to ascertain whether it was firmly
+fixed on.
+
+"Courage, courage, my friend! He has asked to see you. That is well!"
+and he turned to go.
+
+But Pierre thought it necessary to ask: "How is..." and hesitated, not
+knowing whether it would be proper to call the dying man "the count,"
+yet ashamed to call him "father."
+
+"He had another stroke about half an hour ago. Courage, my friend..."
+
+Pierre's mind was in such a confused state that the word "stroke"
+suggested to him a blow from something. He looked at Prince Vasili in
+perplexity, and only later grasped that a stroke was an attack of
+illness. Prince Vasili said something to Lorrain in passing and went
+through the door on tiptoe. He could not walk well on tiptoe and his
+whole body jerked at each step. The eldest princess followed him, and
+the priests and deacons and some servants also went in at the door.
+Through that door was heard a noise of things being moved about, and at
+last Anna Mikhaylovna, still with the same expression, pale but resolute
+in the discharge of duty, ran out and touching Pierre lightly on the arm
+said:
+
+"The divine mercy is inexhaustible! Unction is about to be administered.
+Come."
+
+Pierre went in at the door, stepping on the soft carpet, and noticed
+that the strange lady, the aide-de-camp, and some of the servants, all
+followed him in, as if there were now no further need for permission to
+enter that room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+Pierre well knew this large room divided by columns and an arch, its
+walls hung round with Persian carpets. The part of the room behind the
+columns, with a high silk-curtained mahogany bedstead on one side and on
+the other an immense case containing icons, was brightly illuminated
+with red light like a Russian church during evening service. Under the
+gleaming icons stood a long invalid chair, and in that chair on snowy-
+white smooth pillows, evidently freshly changed, Pierre saw--covered to
+the waist by a bright green quilt--the familiar, majestic figure of his
+father, Count Bezukhov, with that gray mane of hair above his broad
+forehead which reminded one of a lion, and the deep characteristically
+noble wrinkles of his handsome, ruddy face. He lay just under the icons;
+his large thick hands outside the quilt. Into the right hand, which was
+lying palm downwards, a wax taper had been thrust between forefinger and
+thumb, and an old servant, bending over from behind the chair, held it
+in position. By the chair stood the priests, their long hair falling
+over their magnificent glittering vestments, with lighted tapers in
+their hands, slowly and solemnly conducting the service. A little behind
+them stood the two younger princesses holding handkerchiefs to their
+eyes, and just in front of them their eldest sister, Catiche, with a
+vicious and determined look steadily fixed on the icons, as though
+declaring to all that she could not answer for herself should she glance
+round. Anna Mikhaylovna, with a meek, sorrowful, and all-forgiving
+expression on her face, stood by the door near the strange lady. Prince
+Vasili in front of the door, near the invalid chair, a wax taper in his
+left hand, was leaning his left arm on the carved back of a velvet chair
+he had turned round for the purpose, and was crossing himself with his
+right hand, turning his eyes upward each time he touched his forehead.
+His face wore a calm look of piety and resignation to the will of God.
+"If you do not understand these sentiments," he seemed to be saying, "so
+much the worse for you!"
+
+Behind him stood the aide-de-camp, the doctors, and the menservants; the
+men and women had separated as in church. All were silently crossing
+themselves, and the reading of the church service, the subdued chanting
+of deep bass voices, and in the intervals sighs and the shuffling of
+feet were the only sounds that could be heard. Anna Mikhaylovna, with an
+air of importance that showed that she felt she quite knew what she was
+about, went across the room to where Pierre was standing and gave him a
+taper. He lit it and, distracted by observing those around him, began
+crossing himself with the hand that held the taper.
+
+Sophie, the rosy, laughter-loving, youngest princess with the mole,
+watched him. She smiled, hid her face in her handkerchief, and remained
+with it hidden for awhile; then looking up and seeing Pierre she again
+began to laugh. She evidently felt unable to look at him without
+laughing, but could not resist looking at him: so to be out of
+temptation she slipped quietly behind one of the columns. In the midst
+of the service the voices of the priests suddenly ceased, they whispered
+to one another, and the old servant who was holding the count's hand got
+up and said something to the ladies. Anna Mikhaylovna stepped forward
+and, stooping over the dying man, beckoned to Lorrain from behind her
+back. The French doctor held no taper; he was leaning against one of the
+columns in a respectful attitude implying that he, a foreigner, in spite
+of all differences of faith, understood the full importance of the rite
+now being performed and even approved of it. He now approached the sick
+man with the noiseless step of one in full vigor of life, with his
+delicate white fingers raised from the green quilt the hand that was
+free, and turning sideways felt the pulse and reflected a moment. The
+sick man was given something to drink, there was a stir around him, then
+the people resumed their places and the service continued. During this
+interval Pierre noticed that Prince Vasili left the chair on which he
+had been leaning, and--with an air which intimated that he knew what he
+was about and if others did not understand him it was so much the worse
+for them--did not go up to the dying man, but passed by him, joined the
+eldest princess, and moved with her to the side of the room where stood
+the high bedstead with its silken hangings. On leaving the bed both
+Prince Vasili and the princess passed out by a back door, but returned
+to their places one after the other before the service was concluded.
+Pierre paid no more attention to this occurrence than to the rest of
+what went on, having made up his mind once for all that what he saw
+happening around him that evening was in some way essential.
+
+The chanting of the service ceased, and the voice of the priest was
+heard respectfully congratulating the dying man on having received the
+sacrament. The dying man lay as lifeless and immovable as before. Around
+him everyone began to stir: steps were audible and whispers, among which
+Anna Mikhaylovna's was the most distinct.
+
+Pierre heard her say:
+
+"Certainly he must be moved onto the bed; here it will be impossible..."
+
+The sick man was so surrounded by doctors, princesses, and servants that
+Pierre could no longer see the reddish-yellow face with its gray mane--
+which, though he saw other faces as well, he had not lost sight of for a
+single moment during the whole service. He judged by the cautious
+movements of those who crowded round the invalid chair that they had
+lifted the dying man and were moving him.
+
+"Catch hold of my arm or you'll drop him!" he heard one of the servants
+say in a frightened whisper. "Catch hold from underneath. Here!"
+exclaimed different voices; and the heavy breathing of the bearers and
+the shuffling of their feet grew more hurried, as if the weight they
+were carrying were too much for them.
+
+As the bearers, among whom was Anna Mikhaylovna, passed the young man he
+caught a momentary glimpse between their heads and backs of the dying
+man's high, stout, uncovered chest and powerful shoulders, raised by
+those who were holding him under the armpits, and of his gray, curly,
+leonine head. This head, with its remarkably broad brow and cheekbones,
+its handsome, sensual mouth, and its cold, majestic expression, was not
+disfigured by the approach of death. It was the same as Pierre
+remembered it three months before, when the count had sent him to
+Petersburg. But now this head was swaying helplessly with the uneven
+movements of the bearers, and the cold listless gaze fixed itself upon
+nothing.
+
+After a few minutes' bustle beside the high bedstead, those who had
+carried the sick man dispersed. Anna Mikhaylovna touched Pierre's hand
+and said, "Come." Pierre went with her to the bed on which the sick man
+had been laid in a stately pose in keeping with the ceremony just
+completed. He lay with his head propped high on the pillows. His hands
+were symmetrically placed on the green silk quilt, the palms downward.
+When Pierre came up the count was gazing straight at him, but with a
+look the significance of which could not be understood by mortal man.
+Either this look meant nothing but that as long as one has eyes they
+must look somewhere, or it meant too much. Pierre hesitated, not knowing
+what to do, and glanced inquiringly at his guide. Anna Mikhaylovna made
+a hurried sign with her eyes, glancing at the sick man's hand and moving
+her lips as if to send it a kiss. Pierre, carefully stretching his neck
+so as not to touch the quilt, followed her suggestion and pressed his
+lips to the large boned, fleshy hand. Neither the hand nor a single
+muscle of the count's face stirred. Once more Pierre looked
+questioningly at Anna Mikhaylovna to see what he was to do next. Anna
+Mikhaylovna with her eyes indicated a chair that stood beside the bed.
+Pierre obediently sat down, his eyes asking if he were doing right. Anna
+Mikhaylovna nodded approvingly. Again Pierre fell into the naively
+symmetrical pose of an Egyptian statue, evidently distressed that his
+stout and clumsy body took up so much room and doing his utmost to look
+as small as possible. He looked at the count, who still gazed at the
+spot where Pierre's face had been before he sat down. Anna Mikhaylovna
+indicated by her attitude her consciousness of the pathetic importance
+of these last moments of meeting between the father and son. This lasted
+about two minutes, which to Pierre seemed an hour. Suddenly the broad
+muscles and lines of the count's face began to twitch. The twitching
+increased, the handsome mouth was drawn to one side (only now did Pierre
+realize how near death his father was), and from that distorted mouth
+issued an indistinct, hoarse sound. Anna Mikhaylovna looked attentively
+at the sick man's eyes, trying to guess what he wanted; she pointed
+first to Pierre, then to some drink, then named Prince Vasili in an
+inquiring whisper, then pointed to the quilt. The eyes and face of the
+sick man showed impatience. He made an effort to look at the servant who
+stood constantly at the head of the bed.
+
+"Wants to turn on the other side," whispered the servant, and got up to
+turn the count's heavy body toward the wall.
+
+Pierre rose to help him.
+
+While the count was being turned over, one of his arms fell back
+helplessly and he made a fruitless effort to pull it forward. Whether he
+noticed the look of terror with which Pierre regarded that lifeless arm,
+or whether some other thought flitted across his dying brain, at any
+rate he glanced at the refractory arm, at Pierre's terror-stricken face,
+and again at the arm, and on his face a feeble, piteous smile appeared,
+quite out of keeping with his features, that seemed to deride his own
+helplessness. At sight of this smile Pierre felt an unexpected quivering
+in his breast and a tickling in his nose, and tears dimmed his eyes. The
+sick man was turned on to his side with his face to the wall. He sighed.
+
+"He is dozing," said Anna Mikhaylovna, observing that one of the
+princesses was coming to take her turn at watching. "Let us go."
+
+Pierre went out.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+There was now no one in the reception room except Prince Vasili and the
+eldest princess, who were sitting under the portrait of Catherine the
+Great and talking eagerly. As soon as they saw Pierre and his companion
+they became silent, and Pierre thought he saw the princess hide
+something as she whispered:
+
+"I can't bear the sight of that woman."
+
+"Catiche has had tea served in the small drawing room," said Prince
+Vasili to Anna Mikhaylovna. "Go and take something, my poor Anna
+Mikhaylovna, or you will not hold out."
+
+To Pierre he said nothing, merely giving his arm a sympathetic squeeze
+below the shoulder. Pierre went with Anna Mikhaylovna into the small
+drawing room.
+
+"There is nothing so refreshing after a sleepless night as a cup of this
+delicious Russian tea," Lorrain was saying with an air of restrained
+animation as he stood sipping tea from a delicate Chinese handleless cup
+before a table on which tea and a cold supper were laid in the small
+circular room. Around the table all who were at Count Bezukhov's house
+that night had gathered to fortify themselves. Pierre well remembered
+this small circular drawing room with its mirrors and little tables.
+During balls given at the house Pierre, who did not know how to dance,
+had liked sitting in this room to watch the ladies who, as they passed
+through in their ball dresses with diamonds and pearls on their bare
+shoulders, looked at themselves in the brilliantly lighted mirrors which
+repeated their reflections several times. Now this same room was dimly
+lighted by two candles. On one small table tea things and supper dishes
+stood in disorder, and in the middle of the night a motley throng of
+people sat there, not merrymaking, but somberly whispering, and
+betraying by every word and movement that they none of them forgot what
+was happening and what was about to happen in the bedroom. Pierre did
+not eat anything though he would very much have liked to. He looked
+inquiringly at his monitress and saw that she was again going on tiptoe
+to the reception room where they had left Prince Vasili and the eldest
+princess. Pierre concluded that this also was essential, and after a
+short interval followed her. Anna Mikhaylovna was standing beside the
+princess, and they were both speaking in excited whispers.
+
+"Permit me, Princess, to know what is necessary and what is not
+necessary," said the younger of the two speakers, evidently in the same
+state of excitement as when she had slammed the door of her room.
+
+"But, my dear princess," answered Anna Mikhaylovna blandly but
+impressively, blocking the way to the bedroom and preventing the other
+from passing, "won't this be too much for poor Uncle at a moment when he
+needs repose? Worldly conversation at a moment when his soul is already
+prepared..."
+
+Prince Vasili was seated in an easy chair in his familiar attitude, with
+one leg crossed high above the other. His cheeks, which were so flabby
+that they looked heavier below, were twitching violently; but he wore
+the air of a man little concerned in what the two ladies were saying.
+
+"Come, my dear Anna Mikhaylovna, let Catiche do as she pleases. You know
+how fond the count is of her."
+
+"I don't even know what is in this paper," said the younger of the two
+ladies, addressing Prince Vasili and pointing to an inlaid portfolio she
+held in her hand. "All I know is that his real will is in his writing
+table, and this is a paper he has forgotten...."
+
+She tried to pass Anna Mikhaylovna, but the latter sprang so as to bar
+her path.
+
+"I know, my dear, kind princess," said Anna Mikhaylovna, seizing the
+portfolio so firmly that it was plain she would not let go easily. "Dear
+princess, I beg and implore you, have some pity on him! Je vous en
+conjure..."
+
+The princess did not reply. Their efforts in the struggle for the
+portfolio were the only sounds audible, but it was evident that if the
+princess did speak, her words would not be flattering to Anna
+Mikhaylovna. Though the latter held on tenaciously, her voice lost none
+of its honeyed firmness and softness.
+
+"Pierre, my dear, come here. I think he will not be out of place in a
+family consultation; is it not so, Prince?"
+
+"Why don't you speak, cousin?" suddenly shrieked the princess so loud
+that those in the drawing room heard her and were startled. "Why do you
+remain silent when heaven knows who permits herself to interfere, making
+a scene on the very threshold of a dying man's room? Intriguer!" she
+hissed viciously, and tugged with all her might at the portfolio.
+
+But Anna Mikhaylovna went forward a step or two to keep her hold on the
+portfolio, and changed her grip.
+
+Prince Vasili rose. "Oh!" said he with reproach and surprise, "this is
+absurd! Come, let go I tell you."
+
+The princess let go.
+
+"And you too!"
+
+But Anna Mikhaylovna did not obey him.
+
+"Let go, I tell you! I will take the responsibility. I myself will go
+and ask him, I!... does that satisfy you?"
+
+"But, Prince," said Anna Mikhaylovna, "after such a solemn sacrament,
+allow him a moment's peace! Here, Pierre, tell them your opinion," said
+she, turning to the young man who, having come quite close, was gazing
+with astonishment at the angry face of the princess which had lost all
+dignity, and at the twitching cheeks of Prince Vasili.
+
+"Remember that you will answer for the consequences," said Prince Vasili
+severely. "You don't know what you are doing."
+
+"Vile woman!" shouted the princess, darting unexpectedly at Anna
+Mikhaylovna and snatching the portfolio from her.
+
+Prince Vasili bent his head and spread out his hands.
+
+At this moment that terrible door, which Pierre had watched so long and
+which had always opened so quietly, burst noisily open and banged
+against the wall, and the second of the three sisters rushed out
+wringing her hands.
+
+"What are you doing!" she cried vehemently. "He is dying and you leave
+me alone with him!"
+
+Her sister dropped the portfolio. Anna Mikhaylovna, stooping, quickly
+caught up the object of contention and ran into the bedroom. The eldest
+princess and Prince Vasili, recovering themselves, followed her. A few
+minutes later the eldest sister came out with a pale hard face, again
+biting her underlip. At sight of Pierre her expression showed an
+irrepressible hatred.
+
+"Yes, now you may be glad!" said she; "this is what you have been
+waiting for." And bursting into tears she hid her face in her
+handkerchief and rushed from the room.
+
+Prince Vasili came next. He staggered to the sofa on which Pierre was
+sitting and dropped onto it, covering his face with his hand. Pierre
+noticed that he was pale and that his jaw quivered and shook as if in an
+ague.
+
+"Ah, my friend!" said he, taking Pierre by the elbow; and there was in
+his voice a sincerity and weakness Pierre had never observed in it
+before. "How often we sin, how much we deceive, and all for what? I am
+near sixty, dear friend... I too... All will end in death, all! Death is
+awful..." and he burst into tears.
+
+Anna Mikhaylovna came out last. She approached Pierre with slow, quiet
+steps.
+
+"Pierre!" she said.
+
+Pierre gave her an inquiring look. She kissed the young man on his
+forehead, wetting him with her tears. Then after a pause she said:
+
+"He is no more...."
+
+Pierre looked at her over his spectacles.
+
+"Come, I will go with you. Try to weep, nothing gives such relief as
+tears."
+
+She led him into the dark drawing room and Pierre was glad no one could
+see his face. Anna Mikhaylovna left him, and when she returned he was
+fast asleep with his head on his arm.
+
+In the morning Anna Mikhaylovna said to Pierre:
+
+"Yes, my dear, this is a great loss for us all, not to speak of you. But
+God will support you: you are young, and are now, I hope, in command of
+an immense fortune. The will has not yet been opened. I know you well
+enough to be sure that this will not turn your head, but it imposes
+duties on you, and you must be a man."
+
+Pierre was silent.
+
+"Perhaps later on I may tell you, my dear boy, that if I had not been
+there, God only knows what would have happened! You know, Uncle promised
+me only the day before yesterday not to forget Boris. But he had no
+time. I hope, my dear friend, you will carry out your father's wish?"
+
+Pierre understood nothing of all this and coloring shyly looked in
+silence at Princess Anna Mikhaylovna. After her talk with Pierre, Anna
+Mikhaylovna returned to the Rostovs' and went to bed. On waking in the
+morning she told the Rostovs and all her acquaintances the details of
+Count Bezukhov's death. She said the count had died as she would herself
+wish to die, that his end was not only touching but edifying. As to the
+last meeting between father and son, it was so touching that she could
+not think of it without tears, and did not know which had behaved better
+during those awful moments--the father who so remembered everything and
+everybody at last and had spoken such pathetic words to the son, or
+Pierre, whom it had been pitiful to see, so stricken was he with grief,
+though he tried hard to hide it in order not to sadden his dying father.
+"It is painful, but it does one good. It uplifts the soul to see such
+men as the old count and his worthy son," said she. Of the behavior of
+the eldest princess and Prince Vasili she spoke disapprovingly, but in
+whispers and as a great secret.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+At Bald Hills, Prince Nicholas Andreevich Bolkonski's estate, the
+arrival of young Prince Andrew and his wife was daily expected, but this
+expectation did not upset the regular routine of life in the old
+prince's household. General in Chief Prince Nicholas Andreevich
+(nicknamed in society, "the King of Prussia") ever since the Emperor
+Paul had exiled him to his country estate had lived there continuously
+with his daughter, Princess Mary, and her companion, Mademoiselle
+Bourienne. Though in the new reign he was free to return to the
+capitals, he still continued to live in the country, remarking that
+anyone who wanted to see him could come the hundred miles from Moscow to
+Bald Hills, while he himself needed no one and nothing. He used to say
+that there are only two sources of human vice--idleness and
+superstition, and only two virtues--activity and intelligence. He
+himself undertook his daughter's education, and to develop these two
+cardinal virtues in her gave her lessons in algebra and geometry till
+she was twenty, and arranged her life so that her whole time was
+occupied. He was himself always occupied: writing his memoirs, solving
+problems in higher mathematics, turning snuffboxes on a lathe, working
+in the garden, or superintending the building that was always going on
+at his estate. As regularity is a prime condition facilitating activity,
+regularity in his household was carried to the highest point of
+exactitude. He always came to table under precisely the same conditions,
+and not only at the same hour but at the same minute. With those about
+him, from his daughter to his serfs, the prince was sharp and invariably
+exacting, so that without being a hardhearted man he inspired such fear
+and respect as few hardhearted men would have aroused. Although he was
+in retirement and had now no influence in political affairs, every high
+official appointed to the province in which the prince's estate lay
+considered it his duty to visit him and waited in the lofty antechamber
+just as the architect, gardener, or Princess Mary did, till the prince
+appeared punctually to the appointed hour. Everyone sitting in this
+antechamber experienced the same feeling of respect and even fear when
+the enormously high study door opened and showed the figure of a rather
+small old man, with powdered wig, small withered hands, and bushy gray
+eyebrows which, when he frowned, sometimes hid the gleam of his shrewd,
+youthfully glittering eyes.
+
+On the morning of the day that the young couple were to arrive, Princess
+Mary entered the antechamber as usual at the time appointed for the
+morning greeting, crossing herself with trepidation and repeating a
+silent prayer. Every morning she came in like that, and every morning
+prayed that the daily interview might pass off well.
+
+An old powdered manservant who was sitting in the antechamber rose
+quietly and said in a whisper: "Please walk in."
+
+Through the door came the regular hum of a lathe. The princess timidly
+opened the door which moved noiselessly and easily. She paused at the
+entrance. The prince was working at the lathe and after glancing round
+continued his work.
+
+The enormous study was full of things evidently in constant use. The
+large table covered with books and plans, the tall glass-fronted
+bookcases with keys in the locks, the high desk for writing while
+standing up, on which lay an open exercise book, and the lathe with
+tools laid ready to hand and shavings scattered around--all indicated
+continuous, varied, and orderly activity. The motion of the small foot
+shod in a Tartar boot embroidered with silver, and the firm pressure of
+the lean sinewy hand, showed that the prince still possessed the
+tenacious endurance and vigor of hardy old age. After a few more turns
+of the lathe he removed his foot from the pedal, wiped his chisel,
+dropped it into a leather pouch attached to the lathe, and, approaching
+the table, summoned his daughter. He never gave his children a blessing,
+so he simply held out his bristly cheek (as yet unshaven) and, regarding
+her tenderly and attentively, said severely:
+
+"Quite well? All right then, sit down." He took the exercise book
+containing lessons in geometry written by himself and drew up a chair
+with his foot.
+
+"For tomorrow!" said he, quickly finding the page and making a scratch
+from one paragraph to another with his hard nail.
+
+The princess bent over the exercise book on the table.
+
+"Wait a bit, here's a letter for you," said the old man suddenly, taking
+a letter addressed in a woman's hand from a bag hanging above the table,
+onto which he threw it.
+
+At the sight of the letter red patches showed themselves on the
+princess' face. She took it quickly and bent her head over it.
+
+"From Heloise?" asked the prince with a cold smile that showed his still
+sound, yellowish teeth.
+
+"Yes, it's from Julie," replied the princess with a timid glance and a
+timid smile.
+
+"I'll let two more letters pass, but the third I'll read," said the
+prince sternly; "I'm afraid you write much nonsense. I'll read the
+third!"
+
+"Read this if you like, Father," said the princess, blushing still more
+and holding out the letter.
+
+"The third, I said the third!" cried the prince abruptly, pushing the
+letter away, and leaning his elbows on the table he drew toward him the
+exercise book containing geometrical figures.
+
+"Well, madam," he began, stooping over the book close to his daughter
+and placing an arm on the back of the chair on which she sat, so that
+she felt herself surrounded on all sides by the acrid scent of old age
+and tobacco, which she had known so long. "Now, madam, these triangles
+are equal; please note that the angle ABC..."
+
+The princess looked in a scared way at her father's eyes glittering
+close to her; the red patches on her face came and went, and it was
+plain that she understood nothing and was so frightened that her fear
+would prevent her understanding any of her father's further
+explanations, however clear they might be. Whether it was the teacher's
+fault or the pupil's, this same thing happened every day: the princess'
+eyes grew dim, she could not see and could not hear anything, but was
+only conscious of her stern father's withered face close to her, of his
+breath and the smell of him, and could think only of how to get away
+quickly to her own room to make out the problem in peace. The old man
+was beside himself: moved the chair on which he was sitting noisily
+backward and forward, made efforts to control himself and not become
+vehement, but almost always did become vehement, scolded, and sometimes
+flung the exercise book away.
+
+The princess gave a wrong answer.
+
+"Well now, isn't she a fool!" shouted the prince, pushing the book aside
+and turning sharply away; but rising immediately, he paced up and down,
+lightly touched his daughter's hair and sat down again.
+
+He drew up his chair, and continued to explain.
+
+"This won't do, Princess; it won't do," said he, when Princess Mary,
+having taken and closed the exercise book with the next day's lesson,
+was about to leave: "Mathematics are most important, madam! I don't want
+to have you like our silly ladies. Get used to it and you'll like it,"
+and he patted her cheek. "It will drive all the nonsense out of your
+head."
+
+She turned to go, but he stopped her with a gesture and took an uncut
+book from the high desk.
+
+"Here is some sort of Key to the Mysteries that your Heloise has sent
+you. Religious! I don't interfere with anyone's belief... I have looked
+at it. Take it. Well, now go. Go."
+
+He patted her on the shoulder and himself closed the door after her.
+
+Princess Mary went back to her room with the sad, scared expression that
+rarely left her and which made her plain, sickly face yet plainer. She
+sat down at her writing table, on which stood miniature portraits and
+which was littered with books and papers. The princess was as untidy as
+her father was tidy. She put down the geometry book and eagerly broke
+the seal of her letter. It was from her most intimate friend from
+childhood; that same Julie Karagina who had been at the Rostovs' name-
+day party.
+
+Julie wrote in French:
+
+Dear and precious Friend, How terrible and frightful a thing is
+separation! Though I tell myself that half my life and half my happiness
+are wrapped up in you, and that in spite of the distance separating us
+our hearts are united by indissoluble bonds, my heart rebels against
+fate and in spite of the pleasures and distractions around me I cannot
+overcome a certain secret sorrow that has been in my heart ever since we
+parted. Why are we not together as we were last summer, in your big
+study, on the blue sofa, the confidential sofa? Why cannot I now, as
+three months ago, draw fresh moral strength from your look, so gentle,
+calm, and penetrating, a look I loved so well and seem to see before me
+as I write?
+
+Having read thus far, Princess Mary sighed and glanced into the mirror
+which stood on her right. It reflected a weak, ungraceful figure and
+thin face. Her eyes, always sad, now looked with particular hopelessness
+at her reflection in the glass. "She flatters me," thought the princess,
+turning away and continuing to read. But Julie did not flatter her
+friend, the princess' eyes--large, deep and luminous (it seemed as if at
+times there radiated from them shafts of warm light)--were so beautiful
+that very often in spite of the plainness of her face they gave her an
+attraction more powerful than that of beauty. But the princess never saw
+the beautiful expression of her own eyes--the look they had when she was
+not thinking of herself. As with everyone, her face assumed a forced
+unnatural expression as soon as she looked in a glass. She went on
+reading:
+
+All Moscow talks of nothing but war. One of my two brothers is already
+abroad, the other is with the Guards, who are starting on their march to
+the frontier. Our dear Emperor has left Petersburg and it is thought
+intends to expose his precious person to the chances of war. God grant
+that the Corsican monster who is destroying the peace of Europe may be
+overthrown by the angel whom it has pleased the Almighty, in His
+goodness, to give us as sovereign! To say nothing of my brothers, this
+war has deprived me of one of the associations nearest my heart. I mean
+young Nicholas Rostov, who with his enthusiasm could not bear to remain
+inactive and has left the university to join the army. I will confess to
+you, dear Mary, that in spite of his extreme youth his departure for the
+army was a great grief to me. This young man, of whom I spoke to you
+last summer, is so noble-minded and full of that real youthfulness which
+one seldom finds nowadays among our old men of twenty and, particularly,
+he is so frank and has so much heart. He is so pure and poetic that my
+relations with him, transient as they were, have been one of the
+sweetest comforts to my poor heart, which has already suffered so much.
+Someday I will tell you about our parting and all that was said then.
+That is still too fresh. Ah, dear friend, you are happy not to know
+these poignant joys and sorrows. You are fortunate, for the latter are
+generally the stronger! I know very well that Count Nicholas is too
+young ever to be more to me than a friend, but this sweet friendship,
+this poetic and pure intimacy, were what my heart needed. But enough of
+this! The chief news, about which all Moscow gossips, is the death of
+old Count Bezukhov, and his inheritance. Fancy! The three princesses
+have received very little, Prince Vasili nothing, and it is Monsieur
+Pierre who has inherited all the property and has besides been
+recognized as legitimate; so that he is now Count Bezukhov and possessor
+of the finest fortune in Russia. It is rumored that Prince Vasili played
+a very despicable part in this affair and that he returned to Petersburg
+quite crestfallen.
+
+I confess I understand very little about all these matters of wills and
+inheritance; but I do know that since this young man, whom we all used
+to know as plain Monsieur Pierre, has become Count Bezukhov and the
+owner of one of the largest fortunes in Russia, I am much amused to
+watch the change in the tone and manners of the mammas burdened by
+marriageable daughters, and of the young ladies themselves, toward him,
+though, between you and me, he always seemed to me a poor sort of
+fellow. As for the past two years people have amused themselves by
+finding husbands for me (most of whom I don't even know), the
+matchmaking chronicles of Moscow now speak of me as the future Countess
+Bezukhova. But you will understand that I have no desire for the post. A
+propos of marriages: do you know that a while ago that universal auntie
+Anna Mikhaylovna told me, under the seal of strict secrecy, of a plan of
+marriage for you. It is neither more nor less than with Prince Vasili's
+son Anatole, whom they wish to reform by marrying him to someone rich
+and distinguee, and it is on you that his relations' choice has fallen.
+I don't know what you will think of it, but I consider it my duty to let
+you know of it. He is said to be very handsome and a terrible
+scapegrace. That is all I have been able to find out about him.
+
+But enough of gossip. I am at the end of my second sheet of paper, and
+Mamma has sent for me to go and dine at the Apraksins'. Read the
+mystical book I am sending you; it has an enormous success here. Though
+there are things in it difficult for the feeble human mind to grasp, it
+is an admirable book which calms and elevates the soul. Adieu! Give my
+respects to monsieur your father and my compliments to Mademoiselle
+Bourienne. I embrace you as I love you.
+
+JULIE
+
+P.S. Let me have news of your brother and his charming little wife.
+
+The princess pondered awhile with a thoughtful smile and her luminous
+eyes lit up so that her face was entirely transformed. Then she suddenly
+rose and with her heavy tread went up to the table. She took a sheet of
+paper and her hand moved rapidly over it. This is the reply she wrote,
+also in French:
+
+Dear and precious Friend, Your letter of the 13th has given me great
+delight. So you still love me, my romantic Julie? Separation, of which
+you say so much that is bad, does not seem to have had its usual effect
+on you. You complain of our separation. What then should I say, if I
+dared complain, I who am deprived of all who are dear to me? Ah, if we
+had not religion to console us life would be very sad. Why do you
+suppose that I should look severely on your affection for that young
+man? On such matters I am only severe with myself. I understand such
+feelings in others, and if never having felt them I cannot approve of
+them, neither do I condemn them. Only it seems to me that Christian
+love, love of one's neighbor, love of one's enemy, is worthier, sweeter,
+and better than the feelings which the beautiful eyes of a young man can
+inspire in a romantic and loving young girl like yourself.
+
+The news of Count Bezukhov's death reached us before your letter and my
+father was much affected by it. He says the count was the last
+representative but one of the great century, and that it is his own turn
+now, but that he will do all he can to let his turn come as late as
+possible. God preserve us from that terrible misfortune!
+
+I cannot agree with you about Pierre, whom I knew as a child. He always
+seemed to me to have an excellent heart, and that is the quality I value
+most in people. As to his inheritance and the part played by Prince
+Vasili, it is very sad for both. Ah, my dear friend, our divine
+Saviour's words, that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of
+a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God, are terribly
+true. I pity Prince Vasili but am still more sorry for Pierre. So young,
+and burdened with such riches--to what temptations he will be exposed!
+If I were asked what I desire most on earth, it would be to be poorer
+than the poorest beggar. A thousand thanks, dear friend, for the volume
+you have sent me and which has such success in Moscow. Yet since you
+tell me that among some good things it contains others which our weak
+human understanding cannot grasp, it seems to me rather useless to spend
+time in reading what is unintelligible and can therefore bear no fruit.
+I never could understand the fondness some people have for confusing
+their minds by dwelling on mystical books that merely awaken their
+doubts and excite their imagination, giving them a bent for exaggeration
+quite contrary to Christian simplicity. Let us rather read the Epistles
+and Gospels. Let us not seek to penetrate what mysteries they contain;
+for how can we, miserable sinners that we are, know the terrible and
+holy secrets of Providence while we remain in this flesh which forms an
+impenetrable veil between us and the Eternal? Let us rather confine
+ourselves to studying those sublime rules which our divine Saviour has
+left for our guidance here below. Let us try to conform to them and
+follow them, and let us be persuaded that the less we let our feeble
+human minds roam, the better we shall please God, who rejects all
+knowledge that does not come from Him; and the less we seek to fathom
+what He has been pleased to conceal from us, the sooner will He
+vouchsafe its revelation to us through His divine Spirit.
+
+My father has not spoken to me of a suitor, but has only told me that he
+has received a letter and is expecting a visit from Prince Vasili. In
+regard to this project of marriage for me, I will tell you, dear sweet
+friend, that I look on marriage as a divine institution to which we must
+conform. However painful it may be to me, should the Almighty lay the
+duties of wife and mother upon me I shall try to perform them as
+faithfully as I can, without disquieting myself by examining my feelings
+toward him whom He may give me for husband.
+
+I have had a letter from my brother, who announces his speedy arrival at
+Bald Hills with his wife. This pleasure will be but a brief one,
+however, for he will leave us again to take part in this unhappy war
+into which we have been drawn, God knows how or why. Not only where you
+are--at the heart of affairs and of the world--is the talk all of war,
+even here amid fieldwork and the calm of nature--which townsfolk
+consider characteristic of the country--rumors of war are heard and
+painfully felt. My father talks of nothing but marches and
+countermarches, things of which I understand nothing; and the day before
+yesterday during my daily walk through the village I witnessed a
+heartrending scene.... It was a convoy of conscripts enrolled from our
+people and starting to join the army. You should have seen the state of
+the mothers, wives, and children of the men who were going and should
+have heard the sobs. It seems as though mankind has forgotten the laws
+of its divine Saviour, Who preached love and forgiveness of injuries--
+and that men attribute the greatest merit to skill in killing one
+another.
+
+Adieu, dear and kind friend; may our divine Saviour and His most Holy
+Mother keep you in their holy and all-powerful care!
+
+MARY
+
+"Ah, you are sending off a letter, Princess? I have already dispatched
+mine. I have written to my poor mother," said the smiling Mademoiselle
+Bourienne rapidly, in her pleasant mellow tones and with guttural r's.
+She brought into Princess Mary's strenuous, mournful, and gloomy world a
+quite different atmosphere, careless, lighthearted, and self-satisfied.
+
+"Princess, I must warn you," she added, lowering her voice and evidently
+listening to herself with pleasure, and speaking with exaggerated
+grasseyement, "the prince has been scolding Michael Ivanovich. He is in
+a very bad humor, very morose. Be prepared."
+
+"Ah, dear friend," replied Princess Mary, "I have asked you never to
+warn me of the humor my father is in. I do not allow myself to judge him
+and would not have others do so."
+
+The princess glanced at her watch and, seeing that she was five minutes
+late in starting her practice on the clavichord, went into the sitting
+room with a look of alarm. Between twelve and two o'clock, as the day
+was mapped out, the prince rested and the princess played the
+clavichord.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+The gray-haired valet was sitting drowsily listening to the snoring of
+the prince, who was in his large study. From the far side of the house
+through the closed doors came the sound of difficult passages--twenty
+times repeated--of a sonata by Dussek.
+
+Just then a closed carriage and another with a hood drove up to the
+porch. Prince Andrew got out of the carriage, helped his little wife to
+alight, and let her pass into the house before him. Old Tikhon, wearing
+a wig, put his head out of the door of the antechamber, reported in a
+whisper that the prince was sleeping, and hastily closed the door.
+Tikhon knew that neither the son's arrival nor any other unusual event
+must be allowed to disturb the appointed order of the day. Prince Andrew
+apparently knew this as well as Tikhon; he looked at his watch as if to
+ascertain whether his father's habits had changed since he was at home
+last, and, having assured himself that they had not, he turned to his
+wife.
+
+"He will get up in twenty minutes. Let us go across to Mary's room," he
+said.
+
+The little princess had grown stouter during this time, but her eyes and
+her short, downy, smiling lip lifted when she began to speak just as
+merrily and prettily as ever.
+
+"Why, this is a palace!" she said to her husband, looking around with
+the expression with which people compliment their host at a ball. "Let's
+come, quick, quick!" And with a glance round, she smiled at Tikhon, at
+her husband, and at the footman who accompanied them.
+
+"Is that Mary practicing? Let's go quietly and take her by surprise."
+
+Prince Andrew followed her with a courteous but sad expression.
+
+"You've grown older, Tikhon," he said in passing to the old man, who
+kissed his hand.
+
+Before they reached the room from which the sounds of the clavichord
+came, the pretty, fair haired Frenchwoman, Mademoiselle Bourienne,
+rushed out apparently beside herself with delight.
+
+"Ah! what joy for the princess!" exclaimed she: "At last! I must let her
+know."
+
+"No, no, please not... You are Mademoiselle Bourienne," said the little
+princess, kissing her. "I know you already through my sister-in-law's
+friendship for you. She was not expecting us?"
+
+They went up to the door of the sitting room from which came the sound
+of the oft-repeated passage of the sonata. Prince Andrew stopped and
+made a grimace, as if expecting something unpleasant.
+
+The little princess entered the room. The passage broke off in the
+middle, a cry was heard, then Princess Mary's heavy tread and the sound
+of kissing. When Prince Andrew went in the two princesses, who had only
+met once before for a short time at his wedding, were in each other's
+arms warmly pressing their lips to whatever place they happened to
+touch. Mademoiselle Bourienne stood near them pressing her hand to her
+heart, with a beatific smile and obviously equally ready to cry or to
+laugh. Prince Andrew shrugged his shoulders and frowned, as lovers of
+music do when they hear a false note. The two women let go of one
+another, and then, as if afraid of being too late, seized each other's
+hands, kissing them and pulling them away, and again began kissing each
+other on the face, and then to Prince Andrew's surprise both began to
+cry and kissed again. Mademoiselle Bourienne also began to cry. Prince
+Andrew evidently felt ill at ease, but to the two women it seemed quite
+natural that they should cry, and apparently it never entered their
+heads that it could have been otherwise at this meeting.
+
+"Ah! my dear!... Ah! Mary!" they suddenly exclaimed, and then laughed.
+"I dreamed last night..."--"You were not expecting us?..." "Ah! Mary,
+you have got thinner?..." "And you have grown stouter!..."
+
+"I knew the princess at once," put in Mademoiselle Bourienne.
+
+"And I had no idea!..." exclaimed Princess Mary. "Ah, Andrew, I did not
+see you."
+
+Prince Andrew and his sister, hand in hand, kissed one another, and he
+told her she was still the same crybaby as ever. Princess Mary had
+turned toward her brother, and through her tears the loving, warm,
+gentle look of her large luminous eyes, very beautiful at that moment,
+rested on Prince Andrew's face.
+
+The little princess talked incessantly, her short, downy upper lip
+continually and rapidly touching her rosy nether lip when necessary and
+drawing up again next moment when her face broke into a smile of
+glittering teeth and sparkling eyes. She told of an accident they had
+had on the Spasski Hill which might have been serious for her in her
+condition, and immediately after that informed them that she had left
+all her clothes in Petersburg and that heaven knew what she would have
+to dress in here; and that Andrew had quite changed, and that Kitty
+Odyntsova had married an old man, and that there was a suitor for Mary,
+a real one, but that they would talk of that later. Princess Mary was
+still looking silently at her brother and her beautiful eyes were full
+of love and sadness. It was plain that she was following a train of
+thought independent of her sister-in-law's words. In the midst of a
+description of the last Petersburg fete she addressed her brother:
+
+"So you are really going to the war, Andrew?" she said sighing.
+
+Lise sighed too.
+
+"Yes, and even tomorrow," replied her brother.
+
+"He is leaving me here, God knows why, when he might have had
+promotion..."
+
+Princess Mary did not listen to the end, but continuing her train of
+thought turned to her sister-in-law with a tender glance at her figure.
+
+"Is it certain?" she said.
+
+The face of the little princess changed. She sighed and said: "Yes,
+quite certain. Ah! it is very dreadful..."
+
+Her lip descended. She brought her face close to her sister-in-law's and
+unexpectedly again began to cry.
+
+"She needs rest," said Prince Andrew with a frown. "Don't you, Lise?
+Take her to your room and I'll go to Father. How is he? Just the same?"
+
+"Yes, just the same. Though I don't know what your opinion will be,"
+answered the princess joyfully.
+
+"And are the hours the same? And the walks in the avenues? And the
+lathe?" asked Prince Andrew with a scarcely perceptible smile which
+showed that, in spite of all his love and respect for his father, he was
+aware of his weaknesses.
+
+"The hours are the same, and the lathe, and also the mathematics and my
+geometry lessons," said Princess Mary gleefully, as if her lessons in
+geometry were among the greatest delights of her life.
+
+When the twenty minutes had elapsed and the time had come for the old
+prince to get up, Tikhon came to call the young prince to his father.
+The old man made a departure from his usual routine in honor of his
+son's arrival: he gave orders to admit him to his apartments while he
+dressed for dinner. The old prince always dressed in old-fashioned
+style, wearing an antique coat and powdered hair; and when Prince Andrew
+entered his father's dressing room (not with the contemptuous look and
+manner he wore in drawing rooms, but with the animated face with which
+he talked to Pierre), the old man was sitting on a large leather-covered
+chair, wrapped in a powdering mantle, entrusting his head to Tikhon.
+
+"Ah! here's the warrior! Wants to vanquish Buonaparte?" said the old
+man, shaking his powdered head as much as the tail, which Tikhon was
+holding fast to plait, would allow.
+
+"You at least must tackle him properly, or else if he goes on like this
+he'll soon have us, too, for his subjects! How are you?" And he held out
+his cheek.
+
+The old man was in a good temper after his nap before dinner. (He used
+to say that a nap "after dinner was silver--before dinner, golden.") He
+cast happy, sidelong glances at his son from under his thick, bushy
+eyebrows. Prince Andrew went up and kissed his father on the spot
+indicated to him. He made no reply on his father's favorite topic--
+making fun of the military men of the day, and more particularly of
+Bonaparte.
+
+"Yes, Father, I have come to you and brought my wife who is pregnant,"
+said Prince Andrew, following every movement of his father's face with
+an eager and respectful look. "How is your health?"
+
+"Only fools and rakes fall ill, my boy. You know me: I am busy from
+morning till night and abstemious, so of course I am well."
+
+"Thank God," said his son smiling.
+
+"God has nothing to do with it! Well, go on," he continued, returning to
+his hobby; "tell me how the Germans have taught you to fight Bonaparte
+by this new science you call 'strategy.'"
+
+Prince Andrew smiled.
+
+"Give me time to collect my wits, Father," said he, with a smile that
+showed that his father's foibles did not prevent his son from loving and
+honoring him. "Why, I have not yet had time to settle down!"
+
+"Nonsense, nonsense!" cried the old man, shaking his pigtail to see
+whether it was firmly plaited, and grasping his by the hand. "The house
+for your wife is ready. Princess Mary will take her there and show her
+over, and they'll talk nineteen to the dozen. That's their woman's way!
+I am glad to have her. Sit down and talk. About Mikhelson's army I
+understand--Tolstoy's too... a simultaneous expedition.... But what's
+the southern army to do? Prussia is neutral... I know that. What about
+Austria?" said he, rising from his chair and pacing up and down the room
+followed by Tikhon, who ran after him, handing him different articles of
+clothing. "What of Sweden? How will they cross Pomerania?"
+
+Prince Andrew, seeing that his father insisted, began--at first
+reluctantly, but gradually with more and more animation, and from habit
+changing unconsciously from Russian to French as he went on--to explain
+the plan of operation for the coming campaign. He explained how an army,
+ninety thousand strong, was to threaten Prussia so as to bring her out
+of her neutrality and draw her into the war; how part of that army was
+to join some Swedish forces at Stralsund; how two hundred and twenty
+thousand Austrians, with a hundred thousand Russians, were to operate in
+Italy and on the Rhine; how fifty thousand Russians and as many English
+were to land at Naples, and how a total force of five hundred thousand
+men was to attack the French from different sides. The old prince did
+not evince the least interest during this explanation, but as if he were
+not listening to it continued to dress while walking about, and three
+times unexpectedly interrupted. Once he stopped it by shouting: "The
+white one, the white one!"
+
+This meant that Tikhon was not handing him the waistcoat he wanted.
+Another time he interrupted, saying:
+
+"And will she soon be confined?" and shaking his head reproachfully
+said: "That's bad! Go on, go on."
+
+The third interruption came when Prince Andrew was finishing his
+description. The old man began to sing, in the cracked voice of old age:
+"Malbrook s'en va-t-en guerre. Dieu sait quand reviendra." *
+
+
+* "Marlborough is going to the wars; God knows when he'll return."
+
+His son only smiled.
+
+"I don't say it's a plan I approve of," said the son; "I am only telling
+you what it is. Napoleon has also formed his plan by now, not worse than
+this one."
+
+"Well, you've told me nothing new," and the old man repeated,
+meditatively and rapidly:
+
+"Dieu sait quand reviendra. Go to the dining room."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+At the appointed hour the prince, powdered and shaven, entered the
+dining room where his daughter-in-law, Princess Mary, and Mademoiselle
+Bourienne were already awaiting him together with his architect, who by
+a strange caprice of his employer's was admitted to table though the
+position of that insignificant individual was such as could certainly
+not have caused him to expect that honor. The prince, who generally kept
+very strictly to social distinctions and rarely admitted even important
+government officials to his table, had unexpectedly selected Michael
+Ivanovich (who always went into a corner to blow his nose on his checked
+handkerchief) to illustrate the theory that all men are equals, and had
+more than once impressed on his daughter that Michael Ivanovich was "not
+a whit worse than you or I." At dinner the prince usually spoke to the
+taciturn Michael Ivanovich more often than to anyone else.
+
+In the dining room, which like all the rooms in the house was
+exceedingly lofty, the members of the household and the footmen--one
+behind each chair--stood waiting for the prince to enter. The head
+butler, napkin on arm, was scanning the setting of the table, making
+signs to the footmen, and anxiously glancing from the clock to the door
+by which the prince was to enter. Prince Andrew was looking at a large
+gilt frame, new to him, containing the genealogical tree of the Princes
+Bolkonski, opposite which hung another such frame with a badly painted
+portrait (evidently by the hand of the artist belonging to the estate)
+of a ruling prince, in a crown--an alleged descendant of Rurik and
+ancestor of the Bolkonskis. Prince Andrew, looking again at that
+genealogical tree, shook his head, laughing as a man laughs who looks at
+a portrait so characteristic of the original as to be amusing.
+
+"How thoroughly like him that is!" he said to Princess Mary, who had
+come up to him.
+
+Princess Mary looked at her brother in surprise. She did not understand
+what he was laughing at. Everything her father did inspired her with
+reverence and was beyond question.
+
+"Everyone has his Achilles' heel," continued Prince Andrew. "Fancy, with
+his powerful mind, indulging in such nonsense!"
+
+Princess Mary could not understand the boldness of her brother's
+criticism and was about to reply, when the expected footsteps were heard
+coming from the study. The prince walked in quickly and jauntily as was
+his wont, as if intentionally contrasting the briskness of his manners
+with the strict formality of his house. At that moment the great clock
+struck two and another with a shrill tone joined in from the drawing
+room. The prince stood still; his lively glittering eyes from under
+their thick, bushy eyebrows sternly scanned all present and rested on
+the little princess. She felt, as courtiers do when the Tsar enters, the
+sensation of fear and respect which the old man inspired in all around
+him. He stroked her hair and then patted her awkwardly on the back of
+her neck.
+
+"I'm glad, glad, to see you," he said, looking attentively into her
+eyes, and then quickly went to his place and sat down. "Sit down, sit
+down! Sit down, Michael Ianovich!"
+
+He indicated a place beside him to his daughter-in-law. A footman moved
+the chair for her.
+
+"Ho, ho!" said the old man, casting his eyes on her rounded figure.
+"You've been in a hurry. That's bad!"
+
+He laughed in his usual dry, cold, unpleasant way, with his lips only
+and not with his eyes.
+
+"You must walk, walk as much as possible, as much as possible," he said.
+
+The little princess did not, or did not wish to, hear his words. She was
+silent and seemed confused. The prince asked her about her father, and
+she began to smile and talk. He asked about mutual acquaintances, and
+she became still more animated and chattered away giving him greetings
+from various people and retelling the town gossip.
+
+"Countess Apraksina, poor thing, has lost her husband and she has cried
+her eyes out," she said, growing more and more lively.
+
+As she became animated the prince looked at her more and more sternly,
+and suddenly, as if he had studied her sufficiently and had formed a
+definite idea of her, he turned away and addressed Michael Ivanovich.
+
+"Well, Michael Ivanovich, our Bonaparte will be having a bad time of it.
+Prince Andrew" (he always spoke thus of his son) "has been telling me
+what forces are being collected against him! While you and I never
+thought much of him."
+
+Michael Ivanovich did not at all know when "you and I" had said such
+things about Bonaparte, but understanding that he was wanted as a peg on
+which to hang the prince's favorite topic, he looked inquiringly at the
+young prince, wondering what would follow.
+
+"He is a great tactician!" said the prince to his son, pointing to the
+architect.
+
+And the conversation again turned on the war, on Bonaparte, and the
+generals and statesmen of the day. The old prince seemed convinced not
+only that all the men of the day were mere babies who did not know the A
+B C of war or of politics, and that Bonaparte was an insignificant
+little Frenchy, successful only because there were no longer any
+Potemkins or Suvorovs left to oppose him; but he was also convinced that
+there were no political difficulties in Europe and no real war, but only
+a sort of puppet show at which the men of the day were playing,
+pretending to do something real. Prince Andrew gaily bore with his
+father's ridicule of the new men, and drew him on and listened to him
+with evident pleasure.
+
+"The past always seems good," said he, "but did not Suvorov himself fall
+into a trap Moreau set him, and from which he did not know how to
+escape?"
+
+"Who told you that? Who?" cried the prince. "Suvorov!" And he jerked
+away his plate, which Tikhon briskly caught. "Suvorov!... Consider,
+Prince Andrew. Two... Frederick and Suvorov; Moreau!... Moreau would
+have been a prisoner if Suvorov had had a free hand; but he had the
+Hofs-kriegs-wurst-schnapps-Rath on his hands. It would have puzzled the
+devil himself! When you get there you'll find out what those Hofs-
+kriegs-wurst-Raths are! Suvorov couldn't manage them so what chance has
+Michael Kutuzov? No, my dear boy," he continued, "you and your generals
+won't get on against Buonaparte; you'll have to call in the French, so
+that birds of a feather may fight together. The German, Pahlen, has been
+sent to New York in America, to fetch the Frenchman, Moreau," he said,
+alluding to the invitation made that year to Moreau to enter the Russian
+service.... "Wonderful!... Were the Potemkins, Suvorovs, and Orlovs
+Germans? No, lad, either you fellows have all lost your wits, or I have
+outlived mine. May God help you, but we'll see what will happen.
+Buonaparte has become a great commander among them! Hm!..."
+
+"I don't at all say that all the plans are good," said Prince Andrew, "I
+am only surprised at your opinion of Bonaparte. You may laugh as much as
+you like, but all the same Bonaparte is a great general!"
+
+"Michael Ivanovich!" cried the old prince to the architect who, busy
+with his roast meat, hoped he had been forgotten: "Didn't I tell you
+Buonaparte was a great tactician? Here, he says the same thing."
+
+"To be sure, your excellency," replied the architect.
+
+The prince again laughed his frigid laugh.
+
+"Buonaparte was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He has got
+splendid soldiers. Besides he began by attacking Germans. And only
+idlers have failed to beat the Germans. Since the world began everybody
+has beaten the Germans. They beat no one--except one another. He made
+his reputation fighting them."
+
+And the prince began explaining all the blunders which, according to
+him, Bonaparte had made in his campaigns and even in politics. His son
+made no rejoinder, but it was evident that whatever arguments were
+presented he was as little able as his father to change his opinion. He
+listened, refraining from a reply, and involuntarily wondered how this
+old man, living alone in the country for so many years, could know and
+discuss so minutely and acutely all the recent European military and
+political events.
+
+"You think I'm an old man and don't understand the present state of
+affairs?" concluded his father. "But it troubles me. I don't sleep at
+night. Come now, where has this great commander of yours shown his
+skill?" he concluded.
+
+"That would take too long to tell," answered the son.
+
+"Well, then go to your Buonaparte! Mademoiselle Bourienne, here's
+another admirer of that powder-monkey emperor of yours," he exclaimed in
+excellent French.
+
+"You know, Prince, I am not a Bonapartist!"
+
+"Dieu sait quand reviendra..." hummed the prince out of tune and, with a
+laugh still more so, he quitted the table.
+
+The little princess during the whole discussion and the rest of the
+dinner sat silent, glancing with a frightened look now at her father-in-
+law and now at Princess Mary. When they left the table she took her
+sister-in-law's arm and drew her into another room.
+
+"What a clever man your father is," said she; "perhaps that is why I am
+afraid of him."
+
+"Oh, he is so kind!" answered Princess Mary.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+Prince Andrew was to leave next evening. The old prince, not altering
+his routine, retired as usual after dinner. The little princess was in
+her sister-in-law's room. Prince Andrew in a traveling coat without
+epaulettes had been packing with his valet in the rooms assigned to him.
+After inspecting the carriage himself and seeing the trunks put in, he
+ordered the horses to be harnessed. Only those things he always kept
+with him remained in his room; a small box, a large canteen fitted with
+silver plate, two Turkish pistols and a saber--a present from his father
+who had brought it from the siege of Ochakov. All these traveling
+effects of Prince Andrew's were in very good order: new, clean, and in
+cloth covers carefully tied with tapes.
+
+When starting on a journey or changing their mode of life, men capable
+of reflection are generally in a serious frame of mind. At such moments
+one reviews the past and plans for the future. Prince Andrew's face
+looked very thoughtful and tender. With his hands behind him he paced
+briskly from corner to corner of the room, looking straight before him
+and thoughtfully shaking his head. Did he fear going to the war, or was
+he sad at leaving his wife?--perhaps both, but evidently he did not wish
+to be seen in that mood, for hearing footsteps in the passage he
+hurriedly unclasped his hands, stopped at a table as if tying the cover
+of the small box, and assumed his usual tranquil and impenetrable
+expression. It was the heavy tread of Princess Mary that he heard.
+
+"I hear you have given orders to harness," she cried, panting (she had
+apparently been running), "and I did so wish to have another talk with
+you alone! God knows how long we may again be parted. You are not angry
+with me for coming? You have changed so, Andrusha," she added, as if to
+explain such a question.
+
+She smiled as she uttered his pet name, "Andrusha." It was obviously
+strange to her to think that this stern handsome man should be Andrusha-
+-the slender mischievous boy who had been her playfellow in childhood.
+
+"And where is Lise?" he asked, answering her question only by a smile.
+
+"She was so tired that she has fallen asleep on the sofa in my room. Oh,
+Andrew! What a treasure of a wife you have," said she, sitting down on
+the sofa, facing her brother. "She is quite a child: such a dear, merry
+child. I have grown so fond of her."
+
+Prince Andrew was silent, but the princess noticed the ironical and
+contemptuous look that showed itself on his face.
+
+"One must be indulgent to little weaknesses; who is free from them,
+Andrew? Don't forget that she has grown up and been educated in society,
+and so her position now is not a rosy one. We should enter into
+everyone's situation. Tout comprendre, c'est tout pardonner. * Think
+what it must be for her, poor thing, after what she has been used to, to
+be parted from her husband and be left alone in the country, in her
+condition! It's very hard."
+
+
+* To understand all is to forgive all.
+
+Prince Andrew smiled as he looked at his sister, as we smile at those we
+think we thoroughly understand.
+
+"You live in the country and don't think the life terrible," he replied.
+
+"I... that's different. Why speak of me? I don't want any other life,
+and can't, for I know no other. But think, Andrew: for a young society
+woman to be buried in the country during the best years of her life, all
+alone--for Papa is always busy, and I... well, you know what poor
+resources I have for entertaining a woman used to the best society.
+There is only Mademoiselle Bourienne...."
+
+"I don't like your Mademoiselle Bourienne at all," said Prince Andrew.
+
+"No? She is very nice and kind and, above all, she's much to be pitied.
+She has no one, no one. To tell the truth, I don't need her, and she's
+even in my way. You know I always was a savage, and now am even more so.
+I like being alone.... Father likes her very much. She and Michael
+Ivanovich are the two people to whom he is always gentle and kind,
+because he has been a benefactor to them both. As Sterne says: 'We don't
+love people so much for the good they have done us, as for the good we
+have done them.' Father took her when she was homeless after losing her
+own father. She is very good-natured, and my father likes her way of
+reading. She reads to him in the evenings and reads splendidly."
+
+"To be quite frank, Mary, I expect Father's character sometimes makes
+things trying for you, doesn't it?" Prince Andrew asked suddenly.
+
+Princess Mary was first surprised and then aghast at this question.
+
+"For me? For me?... Trying for me!..." said she.
+
+"He always was rather harsh; and now I should think he's getting very
+trying," said Prince Andrew, apparently speaking lightly of their father
+in order to puzzle or test his sister.
+
+"You are good in every way, Andrew, but you have a kind of intellectual
+pride," said the princess, following the train of her own thoughts
+rather than the trend of the conversation--"and that's a great sin. How
+can one judge Father? But even if one might, what feeling except
+veneration could such a man as my father evoke? And I am so contented
+and happy with him. I only wish you were all as happy as I am."
+
+Her brother shook his head incredulously.
+
+"The only thing that is hard for me... I will tell you the truth,
+Andrew... is Father's way of treating religious subjects. I don't
+understand how a man of his immense intellect can fail to see what is as
+clear as day, and can go so far astray. That is the only thing that
+makes me unhappy. But even in this I can see lately a shade of
+improvement. His satire has been less bitter of late, and there was a
+monk he received and had a long talk with."
+
+"Ah! my dear, I am afraid you and your monk are wasting your powder,"
+said Prince Andrew banteringly yet tenderly.
+
+"Ah! mon ami, I only pray, and hope that God will hear me. Andrew..."
+she said timidly after a moment's silence, "I have a great favor to ask
+of you."
+
+"What is it, dear?"
+
+"No--promise that you will not refuse! It will give you no trouble and
+is nothing unworthy of you, but it will comfort me. Promise,
+Andrusha!..." said she, putting her hand in her reticule but not yet
+taking out what she was holding inside it, as if what she held were the
+subject of her request and must not be shown before the request was
+granted.
+
+She looked timidly at her brother.
+
+"Even if it were a great deal of trouble..." answered Prince Andrew, as
+if guessing what it was about.
+
+"Think what you please! I know you are just like Father. Think as you
+please, but do this for my sake! Please do! Father's father, our
+grandfather, wore it in all his wars." (She still did not take out what
+she was holding in her reticule.) "So you promise?"
+
+"Of course. What is it?"
+
+"Andrew, I bless you with this icon and you must promise me you will
+never take it off. Do you promise?"
+
+"If it does not weigh a hundredweight and won't break my neck... To
+please you..." said Prince Andrew. But immediately, noticing the pained
+expression his joke had brought to his sister's face, he repented and
+added: "I am glad; really, dear, I am very glad."
+
+"Against your will He will save and have mercy on you and bring you to
+Himself, for in Him alone is truth and peace," said she in a voice
+trembling with emotion, solemnly holding up in both hands before her
+brother a small, oval, antique, dark-faced icon of the Saviour in a gold
+setting, on a finely wrought silver chain.
+
+She crossed herself, kissed the icon, and handed it to Andrew.
+
+"Please, Andrew, for my sake!..."
+
+Rays of gentle light shone from her large, timid eyes. Those eyes lit up
+the whole of her thin, sickly face and made it beautiful. Her brother
+would have taken the icon, but she stopped him. Andrew understood,
+crossed himself and kissed the icon. There was a look of tenderness, for
+he was touched, but also a gleam of irony on his face.
+
+"Thank you, my dear." She kissed him on the forehead and sat down again
+on the sofa. They were silent for a while.
+
+"As I was saying to you, Andrew, be kind and generous as you always used
+to be. Don't judge Lise harshly," she began. "She is so sweet, so good-
+natured, and her position now is a very hard one."
+
+"I do not think I have complained of my wife to you, Masha, or blamed
+her. Why do you say all this to me?"
+
+Red patches appeared on Princess Mary's face and she was silent as if
+she felt guilty.
+
+"I have said nothing to you, but you have already been talked to. And I
+am sorry for that," he went on.
+
+The patches grew deeper on her forehead, neck, and cheeks. She tried to
+say something but could not. Her brother had guessed right: the little
+princess had been crying after dinner and had spoken of her forebodings
+about her confinement, and how she dreaded it, and had complained of her
+fate, her father-in-law, and her husband. After crying she had fallen
+asleep. Prince Andrew felt sorry for his sister.
+
+"Know this, Masha: I can't reproach, have not reproached, and never
+shall reproach my wife with anything, and I cannot reproach myself with
+anything in regard to her; and that always will be so in whatever
+circumstances I may be placed. But if you want to know the truth... if
+you want to know whether I am happy? No! Is she happy? No! But why this
+is so I don't know..."
+
+As he said this he rose, went to his sister, and, stooping, kissed her
+forehead. His fine eyes lit up with a thoughtful, kindly, and
+unaccustomed brightness, but he was looking not at his sister but over
+her head toward the darkness of the open doorway.
+
+"Let us go to her, I must say good-by. Or--go and wake and I'll come in
+a moment. Petrushka!" he called to his valet: "Come here, take these
+away. Put this on the seat and this to the right."
+
+Princess Mary rose and moved to the door, then stopped and said:
+"Andrew, if you had faith you would have turned to God and asked Him to
+give you the love you do not feel, and your prayer would have been
+answered."
+
+"Well, may be!" said Prince Andrew. "Go, Masha; I'll come immediately."
+
+On the way to his sister's room, in the passage which connected one wing
+with the other, Prince Andrew met Mademoiselle Bourienne smiling
+sweetly. It was the third time that day that, with an ecstatic and
+artless smile, she had met him in secluded passages.
+
+"Oh! I thought you were in your room," she said, for some reason
+blushing and dropping her eyes.
+
+Prince Andrew looked sternly at her and an expression of anger suddenly
+came over his face. He said nothing to her but looked at her forehead
+and hair, without looking at her eyes, with such contempt that the
+Frenchwoman blushed and went away without a word. When he reached his
+sister's room his wife was already awake and her merry voice, hurrying
+one word after another, came through the open door. She was speaking as
+usual in French, and as if after long self-restraint she wished to make
+up for lost time.
+
+"No, but imagine the old Countess Zubova, with false curls and her mouth
+full of false teeth, as if she were trying to cheat old age.... Ha, ha,
+ha! Mary!"
+
+This very sentence about Countess Zubova and this same laugh Prince
+Andrew had already heard from his wife in the presence of others some
+five times. He entered the room softly. The little princess, plump and
+rosy, was sitting in an easy chair with her work in her hands, talking
+incessantly, repeating Petersburg reminiscences and even phrases. Prince
+Andrew came up, stroked her hair, and asked if she felt rested after
+their journey. She answered him and continued her chatter.
+
+The coach with six horses was waiting at the porch. It was an autumn
+night, so dark that the coachman could not see the carriage pole.
+Servants with lanterns were bustling about in the porch. The immense
+house was brilliant with lights shining through its lofty windows. The
+domestic serfs were crowding in the hall, waiting to bid good-by to the
+young prince. The members of the household were all gathered in the
+reception hall: Michael Ivanovich, Mademoiselle Bourienne, Princess
+Mary, and the little princess. Prince Andrew had been called to his
+father's study as the latter wished to say good-by to him alone. All
+were waiting for them to come out.
+
+When Prince Andrew entered the study the old man in his old-age
+spectacles and white dressing gown, in which he received no one but his
+son, sat at the table writing. He glanced round.
+
+"Going?" And he went on writing.
+
+"I've come to say good-by."
+
+"Kiss me here," and he touched his cheek: "Thanks, thanks!"
+
+"What do you thank me for?"
+
+"For not dilly-dallying and not hanging to a woman's apron strings. The
+Service before everything. Thanks, thanks!" And he went on writing, so
+that his quill spluttered and squeaked. "If you have anything to say,
+say it. These two things can be done together," he added.
+
+"About my wife... I am ashamed as it is to leave her on your hands..."
+
+"Why talk nonsense? Say what you want."
+
+"When her confinement is due, send to Moscow for an accoucheur.... Let
+him be here...."
+
+The old prince stopped writing and, as if not understanding, fixed his
+stern eyes on his son.
+
+"I know that no one can help if nature does not do her work," said
+Prince Andrew, evidently confused. "I know that out of a million cases
+only one goes wrong, but it is her fancy and mine. They have been
+telling her things. She has had a dream and is frightened."
+
+"Hm... Hm..." muttered the old prince to himself, finishing what he was
+writing. "I'll do it."
+
+He signed with a flourish and suddenly turning to his son began to
+laugh.
+
+"It's a bad business, eh?"
+
+"What is bad, Father?"
+
+"The wife!" said the old prince, briefly and significantly.
+
+"I don't understand!" said Prince Andrew.
+
+"No, it can't be helped, lad," said the prince. "They're all like that;
+one can't unmarry. Don't be afraid; I won't tell anyone, but you know it
+yourself."
+
+He seized his son by the hand with small bony fingers, shook it, looked
+straight into his son's face with keen eyes which seemed to see through
+him, and again laughed his frigid laugh.
+
+The son sighed, thus admitting that his father had understood him. The
+old man continued to fold and seal his letter, snatching up and throwing
+down the wax, the seal, and the paper, with his accustomed rapidity.
+
+"What's to be done? She's pretty! I will do everything. Make your mind
+easy," said he in abrupt sentences while sealing his letter.
+
+Andrew did not speak; he was both pleased and displeased that his father
+understood him. The old man got up and gave the letter to his son.
+
+"Listen!" said he; "don't worry about your wife: what can be done shall
+be. Now listen! Give this letter to Michael Ilarionovich. * I have
+written that he should make use of you in proper places and not keep you
+long as an adjutant: a bad position! Tell him I remember and like him.
+Write and tell me how he receives you. If he is all right--serve him.
+Nicholas Bolkonski's son need not serve under anyone if he is in
+disfavor. Now come here."
+
+
+*Kutuzov.
+
+He spoke so rapidly that he did not finish half his words, but his son
+was accustomed to understand him. He led him to the desk, raised the
+lid, drew out a drawer, and took out an exercise book filled with his
+bold, tall, close handwriting.
+
+"I shall probably die before you. So remember, these are my memoirs;
+hand them to the Emperor after my death. Now here is a Lombard bond and
+a letter; it is a premium for the man who writes a history of Suvorov's
+wars. Send it to the Academy. Here are some jottings for you to read
+when I am gone. You will find them useful."
+
+Andrew did not tell his father that he would no doubt live a long time
+yet. He felt that he must not say it.
+
+"I will do it all, Father," he said.
+
+"Well, now, good-by!" He gave his son his hand to kiss, and embraced
+him. "Remember this, Prince Andrew, if they kill you it will hurt me,
+your old father..." he paused unexpectedly, and then in a querulous
+voice suddenly shrieked: "but if I hear that you have not behaved like a
+son of Nicholas Bolkonski, I shall be ashamed!"
+
+"You need not have said that to me, Father," said the son with a smile.
+
+The old man was silent.
+
+"I also wanted to ask you," continued Prince Andrew, "if I'm killed and
+if I have a son, do not let him be taken away from you--as I said
+yesterday... let him grow up with you.... Please."
+
+"Not let the wife have him?" said the old man, and laughed.
+
+They stood silent, facing one another. The old man's sharp eyes were
+fixed straight on his son's. Something twitched in the lower part of the
+old prince's face.
+
+"We've said good-by. Go!" he suddenly shouted in a loud, angry voice,
+opening his door.
+
+"What is it? What?" asked both princesses when they saw for a moment at
+the door Prince Andrew and the figure of the old man in a white dressing
+gown, spectacled and wigless, shouting in an angry voice.
+
+Prince Andrew sighed and made no reply.
+
+"Well!" he said, turning to his wife.
+
+And this "Well!" sounded coldly ironic, as if he were saying,: "Now go
+through your performance."
+
+"Andrew, already!" said the little princess, turning pale and looking
+with dismay at her husband.
+
+He embraced her. She screamed and fell unconscious on his shoulder.
+
+He cautiously released the shoulder she leaned on, looked into her face,
+and carefully placed her in an easy chair.
+
+"Adieu, Mary," said he gently to his sister, taking her by the hand and
+kissing her, and then he left the room with rapid steps.
+
+The little princess lay in the armchair, Mademoiselle Bourienne chafing
+her temples. Princess Mary, supporting her sister-in-law, still looked
+with her beautiful eyes full of tears at the door through which Prince
+Andrew had gone and made the sign of the cross in his direction. From
+the study, like pistol shots, came the frequent sound of the old man
+angrily blowing his nose. Hardly had Prince Andrew gone when the study
+door opened quickly and the stern figure of the old man in the white
+dressing gown looked out.
+
+"Gone? That's all right!" said he; and looking angrily at the
+unconscious little princess, he shook his head reprovingly and slammed
+the door.
+
+BOOK TWO: 1805
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+In October, 1805, a Russian army was occupying the villages and towns of
+the Archduchy of Austria, and yet other regiments freshly arriving from
+Russia were settling near the fortress of Braunau and burdening the
+inhabitants on whom they were quartered. Braunau was the headquarters of
+the commander-in-chief, Kutuzov.
+
+On October 11, 1805, one of the infantry regiments that had just reached
+Braunau had halted half a mile from the town, waiting to be inspected by
+the commander-in-chief. Despite the un-Russian appearance of the
+locality and surroundings--fruit gardens, stone fences, tiled roofs, and
+hills in the distance--and despite the fact that the inhabitants (who
+gazed with curiosity at the soldiers) were not Russians, the regiment
+had just the appearance of any Russian regiment preparing for an
+inspection anywhere in the heart of Russia.
+
+On the evening of the last day's march an order had been received that
+the commander-in-chief would inspect the regiment on the march. Though
+the words of the order were not clear to the regimental commander, and
+the question arose whether the troops were to be in marching order or
+not, it was decided at a consultation between the battalion commanders
+to present the regiment in parade order, on the principle that it is
+always better to "bow too low than not bow low enough." So the soldiers,
+after a twenty-mile march, were kept mending and cleaning all night long
+without closing their eyes, while the adjutants and company commanders
+calculated and reckoned, and by morning the regiment--instead of the
+straggling, disorderly crowd it had been on its last march the day
+before--presented a well-ordered array of two thousand men each of whom
+knew his place and his duty, had every button and every strap in place,
+and shone with cleanliness. And not only externally was all in order,
+but had it pleased the commander-in-chief to look under the uniforms he
+would have found on every man a clean shirt, and in every knapsack the
+appointed number of articles, "awl, soap, and all," as the soldiers say.
+There was only one circumstance concerning which no one could be at
+ease. It was the state of the soldiers' boots. More than half the men's
+boots were in holes. But this defect was not due to any fault of the
+regimental commander, for in spite of repeated demands boots had not
+been issued by the Austrian commissariat, and the regiment had marched
+some seven hundred miles.
+
+The commander of the regiment was an elderly, choleric, stout, and
+thick-set general with grizzled eyebrows and whiskers, and wider from
+chest to back than across the shoulders. He had on a brand-new uniform
+showing the creases where it had been folded and thick gold epaulettes
+which seemed to stand rather than lie down on his massive shoulders. He
+had the air of a man happily performing one of the most solemn duties of
+his life. He walked about in front of the line and at every step pulled
+himself up, slightly arching his back. It was plain that the commander
+admired his regiment, rejoiced in it, and that his whole mind was
+engrossed by it, yet his strut seemed to indicate that, besides military
+matters, social interests and the fair sex occupied no small part of his
+thoughts.
+
+"Well, Michael Mitrich, sir?" he said, addressing one of the battalion
+commanders who smilingly pressed forward (it was plain that they both
+felt happy). "We had our hands full last night. However, I think the
+regiment is not a bad one, eh?"
+
+The battalion commander perceived the jovial irony and laughed.
+
+"It would not be turned off the field even on the Tsaritsin Meadow."
+
+"What?" asked the commander.
+
+At that moment, on the road from the town on which signalers had been
+posted, two men appeared on horse back. They were an aide-de-camp
+followed by a Cossack.
+
+The aide-de-camp was sent to confirm the order which had not been
+clearly worded the day before, namely, that the commander-in-chief
+wished to see the regiment just in the state in which it had been on the
+march: in their greatcoats, and packs, and without any preparation
+whatever.
+
+A member of the Hofkriegsrath from Vienna had come to Kutuzov the day
+before with proposals and demands for him to join up with the army of
+the Archduke Ferdinand and Mack, and Kutuzov, not considering this
+junction advisable, meant, among other arguments in support of his view,
+to show the Austrian general the wretched state in which the troops
+arrived from Russia. With this object he intended to meet the regiment;
+so the worse the condition it was in, the better pleased the commander-
+in-chief would be. Though the aide-de-camp did not know these
+circumstances, he nevertheless delivered the definite order that the men
+should be in their greatcoats and in marching order, and that the
+commander-in-chief would otherwise be dissatisfied. On hearing this the
+regimental commander hung his head, silently shrugged his shoulders, and
+spread out his arms with a choleric gesture.
+
+"A fine mess we've made of it!" he remarked.
+
+"There now! Didn't I tell you, Michael Mitrich, that if it was said 'on
+the march' it meant in greatcoats?" said he reproachfully to the
+battalion commander. "Oh, my God!" he added, stepping resolutely
+forward. "Company commanders!" he shouted in a voice accustomed to
+command. "Sergeants major!... How soon will he be here?" he asked the
+aide-de-camp with a respectful politeness evidently relating to the
+personage he was referring to.
+
+"In an hour's time, I should say."
+
+"Shall we have time to change clothes?"
+
+"I don't know, General...."
+
+The regimental commander, going up to the line himself, ordered the
+soldiers to change into their greatcoats. The company commanders ran off
+to their companies, the sergeants major began bustling (the greatcoats
+were not in very good condition), and instantly the squares that had up
+to then been in regular order and silent began to sway and stretch and
+hum with voices. On all sides soldiers were running to and fro, throwing
+up their knapsacks with a jerk of their shoulders and pulling the straps
+over their heads, unstrapping their overcoats and drawing the sleeves on
+with upraised arms.
+
+In half an hour all was again in order, only the squares had become gray
+instead of black. The regimental commander walked with his jerky steps
+to the front of the regiment and examined it from a distance.
+
+"Whatever is this? This!" he shouted and stood still. "Commander of the
+third company!"
+
+"Commander of the third company wanted by the general!... commander to
+the general... third company to the commander." The words passed along
+the lines and an adjutant ran to look for the missing officer.
+
+When the eager but misrepeated words had reached their destination in a
+cry of: "The general to the third company," the missing officer appeared
+from behind his company and, though he was a middle-aged man and not in
+the habit of running, trotted awkwardly stumbling on his toes toward the
+general. The captain's face showed the uneasiness of a schoolboy who is
+told to repeat a lesson he has not learned. Spots appeared on his nose,
+the redness of which was evidently due to intemperance, and his mouth
+twitched nervously. The general looked the captain up and down as he
+came up panting, slackening his pace as he approached.
+
+"You will soon be dressing your men in petticoats! What is this?"
+shouted the regimental commander, thrusting forward his jaw and pointing
+at a soldier in the ranks of the third company in a greatcoat of bluish
+cloth, which contrasted with the others. "What have you been after? The
+commander in chief is expected and you leave your place? Eh? I'll teach
+you to dress the men in fancy coats for a parade.... Eh...?"
+
+The commander of the company, with his eyes fixed on his superior,
+pressed two fingers more and more rigidly to his cap, as if in this
+pressure lay his only hope of salvation.
+
+"Well, why don't you speak? Whom have you got there dressed up as a
+Hungarian?" said the commander with an austere gibe.
+
+"Your excellency..."
+
+"Well, your excellency, what? Your excellency! But what about your
+excellency?... nobody knows."
+
+"Your excellency, it's the officer Dolokhov, who has been reduced to the
+ranks," said the captain softly.
+
+"Well? Has he been degraded into a field marshal, or into a soldier? If
+a soldier, he should be dressed in regulation uniform like the others."
+
+"Your excellency, you gave him leave yourself, on the march."
+
+"Gave him leave? Leave? That's just like you young men," said the
+regimental commander cooling down a little. "Leave indeed.... One says a
+word to you and you... What?" he added with renewed irritation, "I beg
+you to dress your men decently."
+
+And the commander, turning to look at the adjutant, directed his jerky
+steps down the line. He was evidently pleased at his own display of
+anger and walking up to the regiment wished to find a further excuse for
+wrath. Having snapped at an officer for an unpolished badge, at another
+because his line was not straight, he reached the third company.
+
+"H-o-o-w are you standing? Where's your leg? Your leg?" shouted the
+commander with a tone of suffering in his voice, while there were still
+five men between him and Dolokhov with his bluish-gray uniform.
+
+Dolokhov slowly straightened his bent knee, looking straight with his
+clear, insolent eyes in the general's face.
+
+"Why a blue coat? Off with it... Sergeant major! Change his coat... the
+ras..." he did not finish.
+
+"General, I must obey orders, but I am not bound to endure..." Dolokhov
+hurriedly interrupted.
+
+"No talking in the ranks!... No talking, no talking!"
+
+"Not bound to endure insults," Dolokhov concluded in loud, ringing
+tones.
+
+The eyes of the general and the soldier met. The general became silent,
+angrily pulling down his tight scarf.
+
+"I request you to have the goodness to change your coat," he said as he
+turned away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+"He's coming!" shouted the signaler at that moment.
+
+The regimental commander, flushing, ran to his horse, seized the stirrup
+with trembling hands, threw his body across the saddle, righted himself,
+drew his saber, and with a happy and resolute countenance, opening his
+mouth awry, prepared to shout. The regiment fluttered like a bird
+preening its plumage and became motionless.
+
+"Att-ention!" shouted the regimental commander in a soul-shaking voice
+which expressed joy for himself, severity for the regiment, and welcome
+for the approaching chief.
+
+Along the broad country road, edged on both sides by trees, came a high,
+light blue Viennese caleche, slightly creaking on its springs and drawn
+by six horses at a smart trot. Behind the caleche galloped the suite and
+a convoy of Croats. Beside Kutuzov sat an Austrian general, in a white
+uniform that looked strange among the Russian black ones. The caleche
+stopped in front of the regiment. Kutuzov and the Austrian general were
+talking in low voices and Kutuzov smiled slightly as treading heavily he
+stepped down from the carriage just as if those two thousand men
+breathlessly gazing at him and the regimental commander did not exist.
+
+The word of command rang out, and again the regiment quivered, as with a
+jingling sound it presented arms. Then amidst a dead silence the feeble
+voice of the commander-in-chief was heard. The regiment roared, "Health
+to your ex... len... len... lency!" and again all became silent. At
+first Kutuzov stood still while the regiment moved; then he and the
+general in white, accompanied by the suite, walked between the ranks.
+
+From the way the regimental commander saluted the commander-in-chief and
+devoured him with his eyes, drawing himself up obsequiously, and from
+the way he walked through the ranks behind the generals, bending forward
+and hardly able to restrain his jerky movements, and from the way he
+darted forward at every word or gesture of the commander-in-chief, it
+was evident that he performed his duty as a subordinate with even
+greater zeal than his duty as a commander. Thanks to the strictness and
+assiduity of its commander the regiment, in comparison with others that
+had reached Braunau at the same time, was in splendid condition. There
+were only 217 sick and stragglers. Everything was in good order except
+the boots.
+
+Kutuzov walked through the ranks, sometimes stopping to say a few
+friendly words to officers he had known in the Turkish war, sometimes
+also to the soldiers. Looking at their boots he several times shook his
+head sadly, pointing them out to the Austrian general with an expression
+which seemed to say that he was not blaming anyone, but could not help
+noticing what a bad state of things it was. The regimental commander ran
+forward on each such occasion, fearing to miss a single word of the
+commander-in-chief's regarding the regiment. Behind Kutuzov, at a
+distance that allowed every softly spoken word to be heard, followed
+some twenty men of his suite. These gentlemen talked among themselves
+and sometimes laughed. Nearest of all to the commander-in-chief walked a
+handsome adjutant. This was Prince Bolkonski. Beside him was his comrade
+Nesvitski, a tall staff officer, extremely stout, with a kindly,
+smiling, handsome face and moist eyes. Nesvitski could hardly keep from
+laughter provoked by a swarthy hussar officer who walked beside him.
+This hussar, with a grave face and without a smile or a change in the
+expression of his fixed eyes, watched the regimental commander's back
+and mimicked his every movement. Each time the commander started and
+bent forward, the hussar started and bent forward in exactly the same
+manner. Nesvitski laughed and nudged the others to make them look at the
+wag.
+
+Kutuzov walked slowly and languidly past thousands of eyes which were
+starting from their sockets to watch their chief. On reaching the third
+company he suddenly stopped. His suite, not having expected this,
+involuntarily came closer to him.
+
+"Ah, Timokhin!" said he, recognizing the red-nosed captain who had been
+reprimanded on account of the blue greatcoat.
+
+One would have thought it impossible for a man to stretch himself more
+than Timokhin had done when he was reprimanded by the regimental
+commander, but now that the commander-in-chief addressed him he drew
+himself up to such an extent that it seemed he could not have sustained
+it had the commander-in-chief continued to look at him, and so Kutuzov,
+who evidently understood his case and wished him nothing but good,
+quickly turned away, a scarcely perceptible smile flitting over his
+scarred and puffy face.
+
+"Another Ismail comrade," said he. "A brave officer! Are you satisfied
+with him?" he asked the regimental commander.
+
+And the latter--unconscious that he was being reflected in the hussar
+officer as in a looking glass--started, moved forward, and answered:
+"Highly satisfied, your excellency!"
+
+"We all have our weaknesses," said Kutuzov smiling and walking away from
+him. "He used to have a predilection for Bacchus."
+
+The regimental commander was afraid he might be blamed for this and did
+not answer. The hussar at that moment noticed the face of the red-nosed
+captain and his drawn-in stomach, and mimicked his expression and pose
+with such exactitude that Nesvitski could not help laughing. Kutuzov
+turned round. The officer evidently had complete control of his face,
+and while Kutuzov was turning managed to make a grimace and then assume
+a most serious, deferential, and innocent expression.
+
+The third company was the last, and Kutuzov pondered, apparently trying
+to recollect something. Prince Andrew stepped forward from among the
+suite and said in French:
+
+"You told me to remind you of the officer Dolokhov, reduced to the ranks
+in this regiment."
+
+"Where is Dolokhov?" asked Kutuzov.
+
+Dolokhov, who had already changed into a soldier's gray greatcoat, did
+not wait to be called. The shapely figure of the fair-haired soldier,
+with his clear blue eyes, stepped forward from the ranks, went up to the
+commander in chief, and presented arms.
+
+"Have you a complaint to make?" Kutuzov asked with a slight frown.
+
+"This is Dolokhov," said Prince Andrew.
+
+"Ah!" said Kutuzov. "I hope this will be a lesson to you. Do your duty.
+The Emperor is gracious, and I shan't forget you if you deserve well."
+
+The clear blue eyes looked at the commander-in-chief just as boldly as
+they had looked at the regimental commander, seeming by their expression
+to tear open the veil of convention that separates a commander-in-chief
+so widely from a private.
+
+"One thing I ask of your excellency," Dolokhov said in his firm,
+ringing, deliberate voice. "I ask an opportunity to atone for my fault
+and prove my devotion to His Majesty the Emperor and to Russia!"
+
+Kutuzov turned away. The same smile of the eyes with which he had turned
+from Captain Timokhin again flitted over his face. He turned away with a
+grimace as if to say that everything Dolokhov had said to him and
+everything he could say had long been known to him, that he was weary of
+it and it was not at all what he wanted. He turned away and went to the
+carriage.
+
+The regiment broke up into companies, which went to their appointed
+quarters near Braunau, where they hoped to receive boots and clothes and
+to rest after their hard marches.
+
+"You won't bear me a grudge, Prokhor Ignatych?" said the regimental
+commander, overtaking the third company on its way to its quarters and
+riding up to Captain Timokhin who was walking in front. (The regimental
+commander's face now that the inspection was happily over beamed with
+irrepressible delight.) "It's in the Emperor's service... it can't be
+helped... one is sometimes a bit hasty on parade... I am the first to
+apologize, you know me!... He was very pleased!" And he held out his
+hand to the captain.
+
+"Don't mention it, General, as if I'd be so bold!" replied the captain,
+his nose growing redder as he gave a smile which showed where two front
+teeth were missing that had been knocked out by the butt end of a gun at
+Ismail.
+
+"And tell Mr. Dolokhov that I won't forget him--he may be quite easy.
+And tell me, please--I've been meaning to ask--how is he behaving
+himself, and in general..."
+
+"As far as the service goes he is quite punctilious, your excellency;
+but his character..." said Timokhin.
+
+"And what about his character?" asked the regimental commander.
+
+"It's different on different days," answered the captain. "One day he is
+sensible, well educated, and good-natured, and the next he's a wild
+beast.... In Poland, if you please, he nearly killed a Jew."
+
+"Oh, well, well!" remarked the regimental commander. "Still, one must
+have pity on a young man in misfortune. You know he has important
+connections... Well, then, you just..."
+
+"I will, your excellency," said Timokhin, showing by his smile that he
+understood his commander's wish.
+
+"Well, of course, of course!"
+
+The regimental commander sought out Dolokhov in the ranks and, reining
+in his horse, said to him:
+
+"After the next affair... epaulettes."
+
+Dolokhov looked round but did not say anything, nor did the mocking
+smile on his lips change.
+
+"Well, that's all right," continued the regimental commander. "A cup of
+vodka for the men from me," he added so that the soldiers could hear. "I
+thank you all! God be praised!" and he rode past that company and
+overtook the next one.
+
+"Well, he's really a good fellow, one can serve under him," said
+Timokhin to the subaltern beside him.
+
+"In a word, a hearty one..." said the subaltern, laughing (the
+regimental commander was nicknamed King of Hearts).
+
+The cheerful mood of their officers after the inspection infected the
+soldiers. The company marched on gaily. The soldiers' voices could be
+heard on every side.
+
+"And they said Kutuzov was blind of one eye?"
+
+"And so he is! Quite blind!"
+
+"No, friend, he is sharper-eyed than you are. Boots and leg bands... he
+noticed everything..."
+
+"When he looked at my feet, friend... well, thinks I..."
+
+"And that other one with him, the Austrian, looked as if he were smeared
+with chalk--as white as flour! I suppose they polish him up as they do
+the guns."
+
+"I say, Fedeshon!... Did he say when the battles are to begin? You were
+near him. Everybody said that Buonaparte himself was at Braunau."
+
+"Buonaparte himself!... Just listen to the fool, what he doesn't know!
+The Prussians are up in arms now. The Austrians, you see, are putting
+them down. When they've been put down, the war with Buonaparte will
+begin. And he says Buonaparte is in Braunau! Shows you're a fool. You'd
+better listen more carefully!"
+
+"What devils these quartermasters are! See, the fifth company is turning
+into the village already... they will have their buckwheat cooked before
+we reach our quarters."
+
+"Give me a biscuit, you devil!"
+
+"And did you give me tobacco yesterday? That's just it, friend! Ah,
+well, never mind, here you are."
+
+"They might call a halt here or we'll have to do another four miles
+without eating."
+
+"Wasn't it fine when those Germans gave us lifts! You just sit still and
+are drawn along."
+
+"And here, friend, the people are quite beggarly. There they all seemed
+to be Poles--all under the Russian crown--but here they're all regular
+Germans."
+
+"Singers to the front" came the captain's order.
+
+And from the different ranks some twenty men ran to the front. A
+drummer, their leader, turned round facing the singers, and flourishing
+his arm, began a long-drawn-out soldiers' song, commencing with the
+words: "Morning dawned, the sun was rising," and concluding: "On then,
+brothers, on to glory, led by Father Kamenski." This song had been
+composed in the Turkish campaign and now being sung in Austria, the only
+change being that the words "Father Kamenski" were replaced by "Father
+Kutuzov."
+
+Having jerked out these last words as soldiers do and waved his arms as
+if flinging something to the ground, the drummer--a lean, handsome
+soldier of forty--looked sternly at the singers and screwed up his eyes.
+Then having satisfied himself that all eyes were fixed on him, he raised
+both arms as if carefully lifting some invisible but precious object
+above his head and, holding it there for some seconds, suddenly flung it
+down and began:
+
+"Oh, my bower, oh, my bower...!"
+
+"Oh, my bower new...!" chimed in twenty voices, and the castanet player,
+in spite of the burden of his equipment, rushed out to the front and,
+walking backwards before the company, jerked his shoulders and
+flourished his castanets as if threatening someone. The soldiers,
+swinging their arms and keeping time spontaneously, marched with long
+steps. Behind the company the sound of wheels, the creaking of springs,
+and the tramp of horses' hoofs were heard. Kutuzov and his suite were
+returning to the town. The commander-in-chief made a sign that the men
+should continue to march at ease, and he and all his suite showed
+pleasure at the sound of the singing and the sight of the dancing
+soldier and the gay and smartly marching men. In the second file from
+the right flank, beside which the carriage passed the company, a blue-
+eyed soldier involuntarily attracted notice. It was Dolokhov marching
+with particular grace and boldness in time to the song and looking at
+those driving past as if he pitied all who were not at that moment
+marching with the company. The hussar cornet of Kutuzov's suite who had
+mimicked the regimental commander, fell back from the carriage and rode
+up to Dolokhov.
+
+Hussar cornet Zherkov had at one time, in Petersburg, belonged to the
+wild set led by Dolokhov. Zherkov had met Dolokhov abroad as a private
+and had not seen fit to recognize him. But now that Kutuzov had spoken
+to the gentleman ranker, he addressed him with the cordiality of an old
+friend.
+
+"My dear fellow, how are you?" said he through the singing, making his
+horse keep pace with the company.
+
+"How am I?" Dolokhov answered coldly. "I am as you see."
+
+The lively song gave a special flavor to the tone of free and easy
+gaiety with which Zherkov spoke, and to the intentional coldness of
+Dolokhov's reply.
+
+"And how do you get on with the officers?" inquired Zherkov.
+
+"All right. They are good fellows. And how have you wriggled onto the
+staff?"
+
+"I was attached; I'm on duty."
+
+Both were silent.
+
+"She let the hawk fly upward from her wide right sleeve," went the song,
+arousing an involuntary sensation of courage and cheerfulness. Their
+conversation would probably have been different but for the effect of
+that song.
+
+"Is it true that Austrians have been beaten?" asked Dolokhov.
+
+"The devil only knows! They say so."
+
+"I'm glad," answered Dolokhov briefly and clearly, as the song demanded.
+
+"I say, come round some evening and we'll have a game of faro!" said
+Zherkov.
+
+"Why, have you too much money?"
+
+"Do come."
+
+"I can't. I've sworn not to. I won't drink and won't play till I get
+reinstated."
+
+"Well, that's only till the first engagement."
+
+"We shall see."
+
+They were again silent.
+
+"Come if you need anything. One can at least be of use on the staff..."
+
+Dolokhov smiled. "Don't trouble. If I want anything, I won't beg--I'll
+take it!"
+
+"Well, never mind; I only..."
+
+"And I only..."
+
+"Good-bye."
+
+"Good health..."
+
+
+"It's a long, long way. To my native land..."
+
+Zherkov touched his horse with the spurs; it pranced excitedly from foot
+to foot uncertain with which to start, then settled down, galloped past
+the company, and overtook the carriage, still keeping time to the song.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+On returning from the review, Kutuzov took the Austrian general into his
+private room and, calling his adjutant, asked for some papers relating
+to the condition of the troops on their arrival, and the letters that
+had come from the Archduke Ferdinand, who was in command of the advanced
+army. Prince Andrew Bolkonski came into the room with the required
+papers. Kutuzov and the Austrian member of the Hofkriegsrath were
+sitting at the table on which a plan was spread out.
+
+"Ah!..." said Kutuzov glancing at Bolkonski as if by this exclamation he
+was asking the adjutant to wait, and he went on with the conversation in
+French.
+
+"All I can say, General," said he with a pleasant elegance of expression
+and intonation that obliged one to listen to each deliberately spoken
+word. It was evident that Kutuzov himself listened with pleasure to his
+own voice. "All I can say, General, is that if the matter depended on my
+personal wishes, the will of His Majesty the Emperor Francis would have
+been fulfilled long ago. I should long ago have joined the archduke. And
+believe me on my honour that to me personally it would be a pleasure to
+hand over the supreme command of the army into the hands of a better
+informed and more skillful general--of whom Austria has so many--and to
+lay down all this heavy responsibility. But circumstances are sometimes
+too strong for us, General."
+
+And Kutuzov smiled in a way that seemed to say, "You are quite at
+liberty not to believe me and I don't even care whether you do or not,
+but you have no grounds for telling me so. And that is the whole point."
+
+The Austrian general looked dissatisfied, but had no option but to reply
+in the same tone.
+
+"On the contrary," he said, in a querulous and angry tone that
+contrasted with his flattering words, "on the contrary, your
+excellency's participation in the common action is highly valued by His
+Majesty; but we think the present delay is depriving the splendid
+Russian troops and their commander of the laurels they have been
+accustomed to win in their battles," he concluded his evidently
+prearranged sentence.
+
+Kutuzov bowed with the same smile.
+
+"But that is my conviction, and judging by the last letter with which
+His Highness the Archduke Ferdinand has honored me, I imagine that the
+Austrian troops, under the direction of so skillful a leader as General
+Mack, have by now already gained a decisive victory and no longer need
+our aid," said Kutuzov.
+
+The general frowned. Though there was no definite news of an Austrian
+defeat, there were many circumstances confirming the unfavorable rumors
+that were afloat, and so Kutuzov's suggestion of an Austrian victory
+sounded much like irony. But Kutuzov went on blandly smiling with the
+same expression, which seemed to say that he had a right to suppose so.
+And, in fact, the last letter he had received from Mack's army informed
+him of a victory and stated strategically the position of the army was
+very favorable.
+
+"Give me that letter," said Kutuzov turning to Prince Andrew. "Please
+have a look at it"--and Kutuzov with an ironical smile about the corners
+of his mouth read to the Austrian general the following passage, in
+German, from the Archduke Ferdinand's letter:
+
+We have fully concentrated forces of nearly seventy thousand men with
+which to attack and defeat the enemy should he cross the Lech. Also, as
+we are masters of Ulm, we cannot be deprived of the advantage of
+commanding both sides of the Danube, so that should the enemy not cross
+the Lech, we can cross the Danube, throw ourselves on his line of
+communications, recross the river lower down, and frustrate his
+intention should he try to direct his whole force against our faithful
+ally. We shall therefore confidently await the moment when the Imperial
+Russian army will be fully equipped, and shall then, in conjunction with
+it, easily find a way to prepare for the enemy the fate he deserves.
+
+Kutuzov sighed deeply on finishing this paragraph and looked at the
+member of the Hofkriegsrath mildly and attentively.
+
+"But you know the wise maxim your excellency, advising one to expect the
+worst," said the Austrian general, evidently wishing to have done with
+jests and to come to business. He involuntarily looked round at the
+aide-de-camp.
+
+"Excuse me, General," interrupted Kutuzov, also turning to Prince
+Andrew. "Look here, my dear fellow, get from Kozlovski all the reports
+from our scouts. Here are two letters from Count Nostitz and here is one
+from His Highness the Archduke Ferdinand and here are these," he said,
+handing him several papers, "make a neat memorandum in French out of all
+this, showing all the news we have had of the movements of the Austrian
+army, and then give it to his excellency."
+
+Prince Andrew bowed his head in token of having understood from the
+first not only what had been said but also what Kutuzov would have liked
+to tell him. He gathered up the papers and with a bow to both, stepped
+softly over the carpet and went out into the waiting room.
+
+Though not much time had passed since Prince Andrew had left Russia, he
+had changed greatly during that period. In the expression of his face,
+in his movements, in his walk, scarcely a trace was left of his former
+affected languor and indolence. He now looked like a man who has time to
+think of the impression he makes on others, but is occupied with
+agreeable and interesting work. His face expressed more satisfaction
+with himself and those around him, his smile and glance were brighter
+and more attractive.
+
+Kutuzov, whom he had overtaken in Poland, had received him very kindly,
+promised not to forget him, distinguished him above the other adjutants,
+and had taken him to Vienna and given him the more serious commissions.
+From Vienna Kutuzov wrote to his old comrade, Prince Andrew's father.
+
+Your son bids fair to become an officer distinguished by his industry,
+firmness, and expedition. I consider myself fortunate to have such a
+subordinate by me.
+
+On Kutuzov's staff, among his fellow officers and in the army generally,
+Prince Andrew had, as he had had in Petersburg society, two quite
+opposite reputations. Some, a minority, acknowledged him to be different
+from themselves and from everyone else, expected great things of him,
+listened to him, admired, and imitated him, and with them Prince Andrew
+was natural and pleasant. Others, the majority, disliked him and
+considered him conceited, cold, and disagreeable. But among these people
+Prince Andrew knew how to take his stand so that they respected and even
+feared him.
+
+Coming out of Kutuzov's room into the waiting room with the papers in
+his hand Prince Andrew came up to his comrade, the aide-de-camp on duty,
+Kozlovski, who was sitting at the window with a book.
+
+"Well, Prince?" asked Kozlovski.
+
+"I am ordered to write a memorandum explaining why we are not
+advancing."
+
+"And why is it?"
+
+Prince Andrew shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Any news from Mack?"
+
+"No."
+
+"If it were true that he has been beaten, news would have come."
+
+"Probably," said Prince Andrew moving toward the outer door.
+
+But at that instant a tall Austrian general in a greatcoat, with the
+order of Maria Theresa on his neck and a black bandage round his head,
+who had evidently just arrived, entered quickly, slamming the door.
+Prince Andrew stopped short.
+
+"Commander in Chief Kutuzov?" said the newly arrived general speaking
+quickly with a harsh German accent, looking to both sides and advancing
+straight toward the inner door.
+
+"The commander-in-chief is engaged," said Kozlovski, going hurriedly up
+to the unknown general and blocking his way to the door. "Whom shall I
+announce?"
+
+The unknown general looked disdainfully down at Kozlovski, who was
+rather short, as if surprised that anyone should not know him.
+
+"The commander-in-chief is engaged," repeated Kozlovski calmly.
+
+The general's face clouded, his lips quivered and trembled. He took out
+a notebook, hurriedly scribbled something in pencil, tore out the leaf,
+gave it to Kozlovski, stepped quickly to the window, and threw himself
+into a chair, gazing at those in the room as if asking, "Why do they
+look at me?" Then he lifted his head, stretched his neck as if he
+intended to say something, but immediately, with affected indifference,
+began to hum to himself, producing a queer sound which immediately broke
+off. The door of the private room opened and Kutuzov appeared in the
+doorway. The general with the bandaged head bent forward as though
+running away from some danger, and, making long, quick strides with his
+thin legs, went up to Kutuzov.
+
+"Vous voyez le malheureux Mack," he uttered in a broken voice.
+
+Kutuzov's face as he stood in the open doorway remained perfectly
+immobile for a few moments. Then wrinkles ran over his face like a wave
+and his forehead became smooth again, he bowed his head respectfully,
+closed his eyes, silently let Mack enter his room before him, and closed
+the door himself behind him.
+
+The report which had been circulated that the Austrians had been beaten
+and that the whole army had surrendered at Ulm proved to be correct.
+Within half an hour adjutants had been sent in various directions with
+orders which showed that the Russian troops, who had hitherto been
+inactive, would also soon have to meet the enemy.
+
+Prince Andrew was one of those rare staff officers whose chief interest
+lay in the general progress of the war. When he saw Mack and heard the
+details of his disaster he understood that half the campaign was lost,
+understood all the difficulties of the Russian army's position, and
+vividly imagined what awaited it and the part he would have to play.
+Involuntarily he felt a joyful agitation at the thought of the
+humiliation of arrogant Austria and that in a week's time he might,
+perhaps, see and take part in the first Russian encounter with the
+French since Suvorov met them. He feared that Bonaparte's genius might
+outweigh all the courage of the Russian troops, and at the same time
+could not admit the idea of his hero being disgraced.
+
+Excited and irritated by these thoughts Prince Andrew went toward his
+room to write to his father, to whom he wrote every day. In the corridor
+he met Nesvitski, with whom he shared a room, and the wag Zherkov; they
+were as usual laughing.
+
+"Why are you so glum?" asked Nesvitski noticing Prince Andrew's pale
+face and glittering eyes.
+
+"There's nothing to be gay about," answered Bolkonski.
+
+Just as Prince Andrew met Nesvitski and Zherkov, there came toward them
+from the other end of the corridor, Strauch, an Austrian general who on
+Kutuzov's staff in charge of the provisioning of the Russian army, and
+the member of the Hofkriegsrath who had arrived the previous evening.
+There was room enough in the wide corridor for the generals to pass the
+three officers quite easily, but Zherkov, pushing Nesvitski aside with
+his arm, said in a breathless voice,
+
+"They're coming!... they're coming!... Stand aside, make way, please
+make way!"
+
+The generals were passing by, looking as if they wished to avoid
+embarrassing attentions. On the face of the wag Zherkov there suddenly
+appeared a stupid smile of glee which he seemed unable to suppress.
+
+"Your excellency," said he in German, stepping forward and addressing
+the Austrian general, "I have the honor to congratulate you."
+
+He bowed his head and scraped first with one foot and then with the
+other, awkwardly, like a child at a dancing lesson.
+
+The member of the Hofkriegsrath looked at him severely but, seeing the
+seriousness of his stupid smile, could not but give him a moment's
+attention. He screwed up his eyes showing that he was listening.
+
+"I have the honor to congratulate you. General Mack has arrived, quite
+well, only a little bruised just here," he added, pointing with a
+beaming smile to his head.
+
+The general frowned, turned away, and went on.
+
+"Gott, wie naiv!" * said he angrily, after he had gone a few steps.
+
+
+* "Good God, what simplicity!"
+
+Nesvitski with a laugh threw his arms round Prince Andrew, but
+Bolkonski, turning still paler, pushed him away with an angry look and
+turned to Zherkov. The nervous irritation aroused by the appearance of
+Mack, the news of his defeat, and the thought of what lay before the
+Russian army found vent in anger at Zherkov's untimely jest.
+
+"If you, sir, choose to make a buffoon of yourself," he said sharply,
+with a slight trembling of the lower jaw, "I can't prevent your doing
+so; but I warn you that if you dare to play the fool in my presence, I
+will teach you to behave yourself."
+
+Nesvitski and Zherkov were so surprised by this outburst that they gazed
+at Bolkonski silently with wide-open eyes.
+
+"What's the matter? I only congratulated them," said Zherkov.
+
+"I am not jesting with you; please be silent!" cried Bolkonski, and
+taking Nesvitski's arm he left Zherkov, who did not know what to say.
+
+"Come, what's the matter, old fellow?" said Nesvitski trying to soothe
+him.
+
+"What's the matter?" exclaimed Prince Andrew standing still in his
+excitement. "Don't you understand that either we are officers serving
+our Tsar and our country, rejoicing in the successes and grieving at the
+misfortunes of our common cause, or we are merely lackeys who care
+nothing for their master's business. Quarante mille hommes massacres et
+l'armee de nos allies detruite, et vous trouvez la le mot pour rire," *
+he said, as if strengthening his views by this French sentence. "C'est
+bien pour un garcon de rien comme cet individu dont vous avez fait un
+ami, mais pas pour vous, pas pour vous. *(2) Only a hobbledehoy could
+amuse himself in this way," he added in Russian--but pronouncing the
+word with a French accent--having noticed that Zherkov could still hear
+him.
+
+
+* "Forty thousand men massacred and the army of our allies destroyed,
+and you find that a cause for jesting!"
+
+* (2) "It is all very well for that good-for-nothing fellow of whom you
+have made a friend, but not for you, not for you."
+
+He waited a moment to see whether the cornet would answer, but he turned
+and went out of the corridor.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+The Pavlograd Hussars were stationed two miles from Braunau. The
+squadron in which Nicholas Rostov served as a cadet was quartered in the
+German village of Salzeneck. The best quarters in the village were
+assigned to cavalry-captain Denisov, the squadron commander, known
+throughout the whole cavalry division as Vaska Denisov. Cadet Rostov,
+ever since he had overtaken the regiment in Poland, had lived with the
+squadron commander.
+
+On October 11, the day when all was astir at headquarters over the news
+of Mack's defeat, the camp life of the officers of this squadron was
+proceeding as usual. Denisov, who had been losing at cards all night,
+had not yet come home when Rostov rode back early in the morning from a
+foraging expedition. Rostov in his cadet uniform, with a jerk to his
+horse, rode up to the porch, swung his leg over the saddle with a supple
+youthful movement, stood for a moment in the stirrup as if loathe to
+part from his horse, and at last sprang down and called to his orderly.
+
+"Ah, Bondarenko, dear friend!" said he to the hussar who rushed up
+headlong to the horse. "Walk him up and down, my dear fellow," he
+continued, with that gay brotherly cordiality which goodhearted young
+people show to everyone when they are happy.
+
+"Yes, your excellency," answered the Ukrainian gaily, tossing his head.
+
+"Mind, walk him up and down well!"
+
+Another hussar also rushed toward the horse, but Bondarenko had already
+thrown the reins of the snaffle bridle over the horse's head. It was
+evident that the cadet was liberal with his tips and that it paid to
+serve him. Rostov patted the horse's neck and then his flank, and
+lingered for a moment.
+
+"Splendid! What a horse he will be!" he thought with a smile, and
+holding up his saber, his spurs jingling, he ran up the steps of the
+porch. His landlord, who in a waistcoat and a pointed cap, pitchfork in
+hand, was clearing manure from the cowhouse, looked out, and his face
+immediately brightened on seeing Rostov. "Schon gut Morgen! Schon gut
+Morgen!" * he said winking with a merry smile, evidently pleased to
+greet the young man.
+
+
+* "A very good morning! A very good morning!"
+
+"Schon fleissig?" * said Rostov with the same gay brotherly smile which
+did not leave his eager face. "Hoch Oestreicher! Hoch Russen! Kaiser
+Alexander hoch!" *(2) said he, quoting words often repeated by the
+German landlord.
+
+
+* "Busy already?"
+
+* (2) "Hurrah for the Austrians! Hurrah for the Russians! Hurrah for
+Emperor Alexander!"
+
+The German laughed, came out of the cowshed, pulled off his cap, and
+waving it above his head cried:
+
+"Und die ganze Welt hoch!" *
+
+
+* "And hurrah for the whole world!"
+
+Rostov waved his cap above his head like the German and cried laughing,
+"Und vivat die ganze Welt!" Though neither the German cleaning his
+cowshed nor Rostov back with his platoon from foraging for hay had any
+reason for rejoicing, they looked at each other with joyful delight and
+brotherly love, wagged their heads in token of their mutual affection,
+and parted smiling, the German returning to his cowshed and Rostov going
+to the cottage he occupied with Denisov.
+
+"What about your master?" he asked Lavrushka, Denisov's orderly, whom
+all the regiment knew for a rogue.
+
+"Hasn't been in since the evening. Must have been losing," answered
+Lavrushka. "I know by now, if he wins he comes back early to brag about
+it, but if he stays out till morning it means he's lost and will come
+back in a rage. Will you have coffee?"
+
+"Yes, bring some."
+
+Ten minutes later Lavrushka brought the coffee. "He's coming!" said he.
+"Now for trouble!" Rostov looked out of the window and saw Denisov
+coming home. Denisov was a small man with a red face, sparkling black
+eyes, and black tousled mustache and hair. He wore an unfastened cloak,
+wide breeches hanging down in creases, and a crumpled shako on the back
+of his head. He came up to the porch gloomily, hanging his head.
+
+"Lavwuska!" he shouted loudly and angrily, "take it off, blockhead!"
+
+"Well, I am taking it off," replied Lavrushka's voice.
+
+"Ah, you're up already," said Denisov, entering the room.
+
+"Long ago," answered Rostov, "I have already been for the hay, and have
+seen Fraulein Mathilde."
+
+"Weally! And I've been losing, bwother. I lost yesterday like a damned
+fool!" cried Denisov, not pronouncing his r's. "Such ill luck! Such ill
+luck. As soon as you left, it began and went on. Hullo there! Tea!"
+
+Puckering up his face though smiling, and showing his short strong
+teeth, he began with stubby fingers of both hands to ruffle up his thick
+tangled black hair.
+
+"And what devil made me go to that wat?" (an officer nicknamed "the
+rat") he said, rubbing his forehead and whole face with both hands.
+"Just fancy, he didn't let me win a single cahd, not one cahd."
+
+He took the lighted pipe that was offered to him, gripped it in his
+fist, and tapped it on the floor, making the sparks fly, while he
+continued to shout.
+
+"He lets one win the singles and collahs it as soon as one doubles it;
+gives the singles and snatches the doubles!"
+
+He scattered the burning tobacco, smashed the pipe, and threw it away.
+Then he remained silent for a while, and all at once looked cheerfully
+with his glittering, black eyes at Rostov.
+
+"If at least we had some women here; but there's nothing foh one to do
+but dwink. If we could only get to fighting soon. Hullo, who's there?"
+he said, turning to the door as he heard a tread of heavy boots and the
+clinking of spurs that came to a stop, and a respectful cough.
+
+"The squadron quartermaster!" said Lavrushka.
+
+Denisov's face puckered still more.
+
+"Wetched!" he muttered, throwing down a purse with some gold in it.
+"Wostov, deah fellow, just see how much there is left and shove the
+purse undah the pillow," he said, and went out to the quartermaster.
+
+Rostov took the money and, mechanically arranging the old and new coins
+in separate piles, began counting them.
+
+"Ah! Telyanin! How d'ye do? They plucked me last night," came Denisov's
+voice from the next room.
+
+"Where? At Bykov's, at the rat's... I knew it," replied a piping voice,
+and Lieutenant Telyanin, a small officer of the same squadron, entered
+the room.
+
+Rostov thrust the purse under the pillow and shook the damp little hand
+which was offered him. Telyanin for some reason had been transferred
+from the Guards just before this campaign. He behaved very well in the
+regiment but was not liked; Rostov especially detested him and was
+unable to overcome or conceal his groundless antipathy to the man.
+
+"Well, young cavalryman, how is my Rook behaving?" he asked. (Rook was a
+young horse Telyanin had sold to Rostov.)
+
+The lieutenant never looked the man he was speaking to straight in the
+face; his eyes continually wandered from one object to another.
+
+"I saw you riding this morning..." he added.
+
+"Oh, he's all right, a good horse," answered Rostov, though the horse
+for which he had paid seven hundred rubbles was not worth half that sum.
+"He's begun to go a little lame on the left foreleg," he added.
+
+"The hoof's cracked! That's nothing. I'll teach you what to do and show
+you what kind of rivet to use."
+
+"Yes, please do," said Rostov.
+
+"I'll show you, I'll show you! It's not a secret. And it's a horse
+you'll thank me for."
+
+"Then I'll have it brought round," said Rostov wishing to avoid
+Telyanin, and he went out to give the order.
+
+In the passage Denisov, with a pipe, was squatting on the threshold
+facing the quartermaster who was reporting to him. On seeing Rostov,
+Denisov screwed up his face and pointing over his shoulder with his
+thumb to the room where Telyanin was sitting, he frowned and gave a
+shudder of disgust.
+
+"Ugh! I don't like that fellow," he said, regardless of the
+quartermaster's presence.
+
+Rostov shrugged his shoulders as much as to say: "Nor do I, but what's
+one to do?" and, having given his order, he returned to Telyanin.
+
+Telyanin was sitting in the same indolent pose in which Rostov had left
+him, rubbing his small white hands.
+
+"Well there certainly are disgusting people," thought Rostov as he
+entered.
+
+"Have you told them to bring the horse?" asked Telyanin, getting up and
+looking carelessly about him.
+
+"I have."
+
+"Let us go ourselves. I only came round to ask Denisov about yesterday's
+order. Have you got it, Denisov?"
+
+"Not yet. But where are you off to?"
+
+"I want to teach this young man how to shoe a horse," said Telyanin.
+
+They went through the porch and into the stable. The lieutenant
+explained how to rivet the hoof and went away to his own quarters.
+
+When Rostov went back there was a bottle of vodka and a sausage on the
+table. Denisov was sitting there scratching with his pen on a sheet of
+paper. He looked gloomily in Rostov's face and said: "I am witing to
+her."
+
+He leaned his elbows on the table with his pen in his hand and,
+evidently glad of a chance to say quicker in words what he wanted to
+write, told Rostov the contents of his letter.
+
+"You see, my fwiend," he said, "we sleep when we don't love. We are
+childwen of the dust... but one falls in love and one is a God, one is
+pua' as on the first day of cweation... Who's that now? Send him to the
+devil, I'm busy!" he shouted to Lavrushka, who went up to him not in the
+least abashed.
+
+"Who should it be? You yourself told him to come. It's the quartermaster
+for the money."
+
+Denisov frowned and was about to shout some reply but stopped.
+
+"Wetched business," he muttered to himself. "How much is left in the
+puhse?" he asked, turning to Rostov.
+
+"Seven new and three old imperials."
+
+"Oh, it's wetched! Well, what are you standing there for, you sca'cwow?
+Call the quahtehmasteh," he shouted to Lavrushka.
+
+"Please, Denisov, let me lend you some: I have some, you know," said
+Rostov, blushing.
+
+"Don't like bowwowing from my own fellows, I don't," growled Denisov.
+
+"But if you won't accept money from me like a comrade, you will offend
+me. Really I have some," Rostov repeated.
+
+"No, I tell you."
+
+And Denisov went to the bed to get the purse from under the pillow.
+
+"Where have you put it, Wostov?"
+
+"Under the lower pillow."
+
+"It's not there."
+
+Denisov threw both pillows on the floor. The purse was not there.
+
+"That's a miwacle."
+
+"Wait, haven't you dropped it?" said Rostov, picking up the pillows one
+at a time and shaking them.
+
+He pulled off the quilt and shook it. The purse was not there.
+
+"Dear me, can I have forgotten? No, I remember thinking that you kept it
+under your head like a treasure," said Rostov. "I put it just here.
+Where is it?" he asked, turning to Lavrushka.
+
+"I haven't been in the room. It must be where you put it."
+
+"But it isn't?..."
+
+"You're always like that; you thwow a thing down anywhere and forget it.
+Feel in your pockets."
+
+"No, if I hadn't thought of it being a treasure," said Rostov, "but I
+remember putting it there."
+
+Lavrushka turned all the bedding over, looked under the bed and under
+the table, searched everywhere, and stood still in the middle of the
+room. Denisov silently watched Lavrushka's movements, and when the
+latter threw up his arms in surprise saying it was nowhere to be found
+Denisov glanced at Rostov.
+
+"Wostov, you've not been playing schoolboy twicks..."
+
+Rostov felt Denisov's gaze fixed on him, raised his eyes, and instantly
+dropped them again. All the blood which had seemed congested somewhere
+below his throat rushed to his face and eyes. He could not draw breath.
+
+"And there hasn't been anyone in the room except the lieutenant and
+yourselves. It must be here somewhere," said Lavrushka.
+
+"Now then, you devil's puppet, look alive and hunt for it!" shouted
+Denisov, suddenly, turning purple and rushing at the man with a
+threatening gesture. "If the purse isn't found I'll flog you, I'll flog
+you all."
+
+Rostov, his eyes avoiding Denisov, began buttoning his coat, buckled on
+his saber, and put on his cap.
+
+"I must have that purse, I tell you," shouted Denisov, shaking his
+orderly by the shoulders and knocking him against the wall.
+
+"Denisov, let him alone, I know who has taken it," said Rostov, going
+toward the door without raising his eyes. Denisov paused, thought a
+moment, and, evidently understanding what Rostov hinted at, seized his
+arm.
+
+"Nonsense!" he cried, and the veins on his forehead and neck stood out
+like cords. "You are mad, I tell you. I won't allow it. The purse is
+here! I'll flay this scoundwel alive, and it will be found."
+
+"I know who has taken it," repeated Rostov in an unsteady voice, and
+went to the door.
+
+"And I tell you, don't you dahe to do it!" shouted Denisov, rushing at
+the cadet to restrain him.
+
+But Rostov pulled away his arm and, with as much anger as though Denisov
+were his worst enemy, firmly fixed his eyes directly on his face.
+
+"Do you understand what you're saying?" he said in a trembling voice.
+"There was no one else in the room except myself. So that if it is not
+so, then..."
+
+He could not finish, and ran out of the room.
+
+"Ah, may the devil take you and evewybody," were the last words Rostov
+heard.
+
+Rostov went to Telyanin's quarters.
+
+"The master is not in, he's gone to headquarters," said Telyanin's
+orderly. "Has something happened?" he added, surprised at the cadet's
+troubled face.
+
+"No, nothing."
+
+"You've only just missed him," said the orderly.
+
+The headquarters were situated two miles away from Salzeneck, and
+Rostov, without returning home, took a horse and rode there. There was
+an inn in the village which the officers frequented. Rostov rode up to
+it and saw Telyanin's horse at the porch.
+
+In the second room of the inn the lieutenant was sitting over a dish of
+sausages and a bottle of wine.
+
+"Ah, you've come here too, young man!" he said, smiling and raising his
+eyebrows.
+
+"Yes," said Rostov as if it cost him a great deal to utter the word; and
+he sat down at the nearest table.
+
+Both were silent. There were two Germans and a Russian officer in the
+room. No one spoke and the only sounds heard were the clatter of knives
+and the munching of the lieutenant.
+
+When Telyanin had finished his lunch he took out of his pocket a double
+purse and, drawing its rings aside with his small, white, turned-up
+fingers, drew out a gold imperial, and lifting his eyebrows gave it to
+the waiter.
+
+"Please be quick," he said.
+
+The coin was a new one. Rostov rose and went up to Telyanin.
+
+"Allow me to look at your purse," he said in a low, almost inaudible,
+voice.
+
+With shifting eyes but eyebrows still raised, Telyanin handed him the
+purse.
+
+"Yes, it's a nice purse. Yes, yes," he said, growing suddenly pale, and
+added, "Look at it, young man."
+
+Rostov took the purse in his hand, examined it and the money in it, and
+looked at Telyanin. The lieutenant was looking about in his usual way
+and suddenly seemed to grow very merry.
+
+"If we get to Vienna I'll get rid of it there but in these wretched
+little towns there's nowhere to spend it," said he. "Well, let me have
+it, young man, I'm going."
+
+Rostov did not speak.
+
+"And you? Are you going to have lunch too? They feed you quite decently
+here," continued Telyanin. "Now then, let me have it."
+
+He stretched out his hand to take hold of the purse. Rostov let go of
+it. Telyanin took the purse and began carelessly slipping it into the
+pocket of his riding breeches, with his eyebrows lifted and his mouth
+slightly open, as if to say, "Yes, yes, I am putting my purse in my
+pocket and that's quite simple and is no one else's business."
+
+"Well, young man?" he said with a sigh, and from under his lifted brows
+he glanced into Rostov's eyes.
+
+Some flash as of an electric spark shot from Telyanin's eyes to Rostov's
+and back, and back again and again in an instant.
+
+"Come here," said Rostov, catching hold of Telyanin's arm and almost
+dragging him to the window. "That money is Denisov's; you took it..." he
+whispered just above Telyanin's ear.
+
+"What? What? How dare you? What?" said Telyanin.
+
+But these words came like a piteous, despairing cry and an entreaty for
+pardon. As soon as Rostov heard them, an enormous load of doubt fell
+from him. He was glad, and at the same instant began to pity the
+miserable man who stood before him, but the task he had begun had to be
+completed.
+
+"Heaven only knows what the people here may imagine," muttered Telyanin,
+taking up his cap and moving toward a small empty room. "We must have an
+explanation..."
+
+"I know it and shall prove it," said Rostov.
+
+"I..."
+
+Every muscle of Telyanin's pale, terrified face began to quiver, his
+eyes still shifted from side to side but with a downward look not rising
+to Rostov's face, and his sobs were audible.
+
+"Count!... Don't ruin a young fellow... here is this wretched money,
+take it..." He threw it on the table. "I have an old father and
+mother!..."
+
+Rostov took the money, avoiding Telyanin's eyes, and went out of the
+room without a word. But at the door he stopped and then retraced his
+steps. "O God," he said with tears in his eyes, "how could you do it?"
+
+"Count..." said Telyanin drawing nearer to him.
+
+"Don't touch me," said Rostov, drawing back. "If you need it, take the
+money," and he threw the purse to him and ran out of the inn.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+That same evening there was an animated discussion among the squadron's
+officers in Denisov's quarters.
+
+"And I tell you, Rostov, that you must apologize to the colonel!" said a
+tall, grizzly-haired staff captain, with enormous mustaches and many
+wrinkles on his large features, to Rostov who was crimson with
+excitement.
+
+The staff captain, Kirsten, had twice been reduced to the ranks for
+affairs of honor and had twice regained his commission.
+
+"I will allow no one to call me a liar!" cried Rostov. "He told me I
+lied, and I told him he lied. And there it rests. He may keep me on duty
+every day, or may place me under arrest, but no one can make me
+apologize, because if he, as commander of this regiment, thinks it
+beneath his dignity to give me satisfaction, then..."
+
+"You just wait a moment, my dear fellow, and listen," interrupted the
+staff captain in his deep bass, calmly stroking his long mustache. "You
+tell the colonel in the presence of other officers that an officer has
+stolen..."
+
+"I'm not to blame that the conversation began in the presence of other
+officers. Perhaps I ought not to have spoken before them, but I am not a
+diplomatist. That's why I joined the hussars, thinking that here one
+would not need finesse; and he tells me that I am lying--so let him give
+me satisfaction..."
+
+"That's all right. No one thinks you a coward, but that's not the point.
+Ask Denisov whether it is not out of the question for a cadet to demand
+satisfaction of his regimental commander?"
+
+Denisov sat gloomily biting his mustache and listening to the
+conversation, evidently with no wish to take part in it. He answered the
+staff captain's question by a disapproving shake of his head.
+
+"You speak to the colonel about this nasty business before other
+officers," continued the staff captain, "and Bogdanich" (the colonel was
+called Bogdanich) "shuts you up."
+
+"He did not shut me up, he said I was telling an untruth."
+
+"Well, have it so, and you talked a lot of nonsense to him and must
+apologize."
+
+"Not on any account!" exclaimed Rostov.
+
+"I did not expect this of you," said the staff captain seriously and
+severely. "You don't wish to apologize, but, man, it's not only to him
+but to the whole regiment--all of us--you're to blame all round. The
+case is this: you ought to have thought the matter over and taken
+advice; but no, you go and blurt it all straight out before the
+officers. Now what was the colonel to do? Have the officer tried and
+disgrace the whole regiment? Disgrace the whole regiment because of one
+scoundrel? Is that how you look at it? We don't see it like that. And
+Bogdanich was a brick: he told you you were saying what was not true.
+It's not pleasant, but what's to be done, my dear fellow? You landed
+yourself in it. And now, when one wants to smooth the thing over, some
+conceit prevents your apologizing, and you wish to make the whole affair
+public. You are offended at being put on duty a bit, but why not
+apologize to an old and honorable officer? Whatever Bogdanich may be,
+anyway he is an honorable and brave old colonel! You're quick at taking
+offense, but you don't mind disgracing the whole regiment!" The staff
+captain's voice began to tremble. "You have been in the regiment next to
+no time, my lad, you're here today and tomorrow you'll be appointed
+adjutant somewhere and can snap your fingers when it is said 'There are
+thieves among the Pavlograd officers!' But it's not all the same to us!
+Am I not right, Denisov? It's not the same!"
+
+Denisov remained silent and did not move, but occasionally looked with
+his glittering black eyes at Rostov.
+
+"You value your own pride and don't wish to apologize," continued the
+staff captain, "but we old fellows, who have grown up in and, God
+willing, are going to die in the regiment, we prize the honor of the
+regiment, and Bogdanich knows it. Oh, we do prize it, old fellow! And
+all this is not right, it's not right! You may take offense or not but I
+always stick to mother truth. It's not right!"
+
+And the staff captain rose and turned away from Rostov.
+
+
+"That's twue, devil take it!" shouted Denisov, jumping up. "Now then,
+Wostov, now then!"
+
+Rostov, growing red and pale alternately, looked first at one officer
+and then at the other.
+
+"No, gentlemen, no... you mustn't think... I quite understand. You're
+wrong to think that of me... I... for me... for the honor of the
+regiment I'd... Ah well, I'll show that in action, and for me the honor
+of the flag... Well, never mind, it's true I'm to blame, to blame all
+round. Well, what else do you want?..."
+
+"Come, that's right, Count!" cried the staff captain, turning round and
+clapping Rostov on the shoulder with his big hand.
+
+"I tell you," shouted Denisov, "he's a fine fellow."
+
+"That's better, Count," said the staff captain, beginning to address
+Rostov by his title, as if in recognition of his confession. "Go and
+apologize, your excellency. Yes, go!"
+
+"Gentlemen, I'll do anything. No one shall hear a word from me," said
+Rostov in an imploring voice, "but I can't apologize, by God I can't, do
+what you will! How can I go and apologize like a little boy asking
+forgiveness?"
+
+Denisov began to laugh.
+
+"It'll be worse for you. Bogdanich is vindictive and you'll pay for your
+obstinacy," said Kirsten.
+
+"No, on my word it's not obstinacy! I can't describe the feeling. I
+can't..."
+
+"Well, it's as you like," said the staff captain. "And what has become
+of that scoundrel?" he asked Denisov.
+
+"He has weported himself sick, he's to be stwuck off the list tomowwow,"
+muttered Denisov.
+
+"It is an illness, there's no other way of explaining it," said the
+staff captain.
+
+"Illness or not, he'd better not cwoss my path. I'd kill him!" shouted
+Denisov in a bloodthirsty tone.
+
+Just then Zherkov entered the room.
+
+"What brings you here?" cried the officers turning to the newcomer.
+
+"We're to go into action, gentlemen! Mack has surrendered with his whole
+army."
+
+"It's not true!"
+
+"I've seen him myself!"
+
+"What? Saw the real Mack? With hands and feet?"
+
+"Into action! Into action! Bring him a bottle for such news! But how did
+you come here?"
+
+"I've been sent back to the regiment all on account of that devil, Mack.
+An Austrian general complained of me. I congratulated him on Mack's
+arrival... What's the matter, Rostov? You look as if you'd just come out
+of a hot bath."
+
+"Oh, my dear fellow, we're in such a stew here these last two days."
+
+The regimental adjutant came in and confirmed the news brought by
+Zherkov. They were under orders to advance next day.
+
+"We're going into action, gentlemen!"
+
+"Well, thank God! We've been sitting here too long!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+Kutuzov fell back toward Vienna, destroying behind him the bridges over
+the rivers Inn (at Braunau) and Traun (near Linz). On October 23 the
+Russian troops were crossing the river Enns. At midday the Russian
+baggage train, the artillery, and columns of troops were defiling
+through the town of Enns on both sides of the bridge.
+
+It was a warm, rainy, autumnal day. The wide expanse that opened out
+before the heights on which the Russian batteries stood guarding the
+bridge was at times veiled by a diaphanous curtain of slanting rain, and
+then, suddenly spread out in the sunlight, far-distant objects could be
+clearly seen glittering as though freshly varnished. Down below, the
+little town could be seen with its white, red-roofed houses, its
+cathedral, and its bridge, on both sides of which streamed jostling
+masses of Russian troops. At the bend of the Danube, vessels, an island,
+and a castle with a park surrounded by the waters of the confluence of
+the Enns and the Danube became visible, and the rocky left bank of the
+Danube covered with pine forests, with a mystic background of green
+treetops and bluish gorges. The turrets of a convent stood out beyond a
+wild virgin pine forest, and far away on the other side of the Enns the
+enemy's horse patrols could be discerned.
+
+Among the field guns on the brow of the hill the general in command of
+the rearguard stood with a staff officer, scanning the country through
+his fieldglass. A little behind them Nesvitski, who had been sent to the
+rearguard by the commander-in-chief, was sitting on the trail of a gun
+carriage. A Cossack who accompanied him had handed him a knapsack and a
+flask, and Nesvitski was treating some officers to pies and real
+doppelkummel. The officers gladly gathered round him, some on their
+knees, some squatting Turkish fashion on the wet grass.
+
+"Yes, the Austrian prince who built that castle was no fool. It's a fine
+place! Why are you not eating anything, gentlemen?" Nesvitski was
+saying.
+
+"Thank you very much, Prince," answered one of the officers, pleased to
+be talking to a staff officer of such importance. "It's a lovely place!
+We passed close to the park and saw two deer... and what a splendid
+house!"
+
+"Look, Prince," said another, who would have dearly liked to take
+another pie but felt shy, and therefore pretended to be examining the
+countryside--"See, our infantrymen have already got there. Look there in
+the meadow behind the village, three of them are dragging something.
+They'll ransack that castle," he remarked with evident approval.
+
+"So they will," said Nesvitski. "No, but what I should like," added he,
+munching a pie in his moist-lipped handsome mouth, "would be to slip in
+over there."
+
+He pointed with a smile to a turreted nunnery, and his eyes narrowed and
+gleamed.
+
+"That would be fine, gentlemen!"
+
+The officers laughed.
+
+"Just to flutter the nuns a bit. They say there are Italian girls among
+them. On my word I'd give five years of my life for it!"
+
+"They must be feeling dull, too," said one of the bolder officers,
+laughing.
+
+Meanwhile the staff officer standing in front pointed out something to
+the general, who looked through his field glass.
+
+"Yes, so it is, so it is," said the general angrily, lowering the field
+glass and shrugging his shoulders, "so it is! They'll be fired on at the
+crossing. And why are they dawdling there?"
+
+On the opposite side the enemy could be seen by the naked eye, and from
+their battery a milk-white cloud arose. Then came the distant report of
+a shot, and our troops could be seen hurrying to the crossing.
+
+Nesvitski rose, puffing, and went up to the general, smiling.
+
+"Would not your excellency like a little refreshment?" he said.
+
+"It's a bad business," said the general without answering him, "our men
+have been wasting time."
+
+"Hadn't I better ride over, your excellency?" asked Nesvitski.
+
+"Yes, please do," answered the general, and he repeated the order that
+had already once been given in detail: "and tell the hussars that they
+are to cross last and to fire the bridge as I ordered; and the
+inflammable material on the bridge must be reinspected."
+
+"Very good," answered Nesvitski.
+
+He called the Cossack with his horse, told him to put away the knapsack
+and flask, and swung his heavy person easily into the saddle.
+
+"I'll really call in on the nuns," he said to the officers who watched
+him smilingly, and he rode off by the winding path down the hill.
+
+"Now then, let's see how far it will carry, Captain. Just try!" said the
+general, turning to an artillery officer. "Have a little fun to pass the
+time."
+
+"Crew, to your guns!" commanded the officer.
+
+In a moment the men came running gaily from their campfires and began
+loading.
+
+"One!" came the command.
+
+Number one jumped briskly aside. The gun rang out with a deafening
+metallic roar, and a whistling grenade flew above the heads of our
+troops below the hill and fell far short of the enemy, a little smoke
+showing the spot where it burst.
+
+The faces of officers and men brightened up at the sound. Everyone got
+up and began watching the movements of our troops below, as plainly
+visible as if but a stone's throw away, and the movements of the
+approaching enemy farther off. At the same instant the sun came fully
+out from behind the clouds, and the clear sound of the solitary shot and
+the brilliance of the bright sunshine merged in a single joyous and
+spirited impression.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+Two of the enemy's shots had already flown across the bridge, where
+there was a crush. Halfway across stood Prince Nesvitski, who had
+alighted from his horse and whose big body was jammed against the
+railings. He looked back laughing to the Cossack who stood a few steps
+behind him holding two horses by their bridles. Each time Prince
+Nesvitski tried to move on, soldiers and carts pushed him back again and
+pressed him against the railings, and all he could do was to smile.
+
+"What a fine fellow you are, friend!" said the Cossack to a convoy
+soldier with a wagon, who was pressing onto the infantrymen who were
+crowded together close to his wheels and his horses. "What a fellow! You
+can't wait a moment! Don't you see the general wants to pass?"
+
+But the convoyman took no notice of the word "general" and shouted at
+the soldiers who were blocking his way. "Hi there, boys! Keep to the
+left! Wait a bit." But the soldiers, crowded together shoulder to
+shoulder, their bayonets interlocking, moved over the bridge in a dense
+mass. Looking down over the rails Prince Nesvitski saw the rapid, noisy
+little waves of the Enns, which rippling and eddying round the piles of
+the bridge chased each other along. Looking on the bridge he saw equally
+uniform living waves of soldiers, shoulder straps, covered shakos,
+knapsacks, bayonets, long muskets, and, under the shakos, faces with
+broad cheekbones, sunken cheeks, and listless tired expressions, and
+feet that moved through the sticky mud that covered the planks of the
+bridge. Sometimes through the monotonous waves of men, like a fleck of
+white foam on the waves of the Enns, an officer, in a cloak and with a
+type of face different from that of the men, squeezed his way along;
+sometimes like a chip of wood whirling in the river, an hussar on foot,
+an orderly, or a townsman was carried through the waves of infantry; and
+sometimes like a log floating down the river, an officers' or company's
+baggage wagon, piled high, leather covered, and hemmed in on all sides,
+moved across the bridge.
+
+"It's as if a dam had burst," said the Cossack hopelessly. "Are there
+many more of you to come?"
+
+"A million all but one!" replied a waggish soldier in a torn coat, with
+a wink, and passed on followed by another, an old man.
+
+"If he" (he meant the enemy) "begins popping at the bridge now," said
+the old soldier dismally to a comrade, "you'll forget to scratch
+yourself."
+
+That soldier passed on, and after him came another sitting on a cart.
+
+"Where the devil have the leg bands been shoved to?" said an orderly,
+running behind the cart and fumbling in the back of it.
+
+And he also passed on with the wagon. Then came some merry soldiers who
+had evidently been drinking.
+
+"And then, old fellow, he gives him one in the teeth with the butt end
+of his gun..." a soldier whose greatcoat was well tucked up said gaily,
+with a wide swing of his arm.
+
+"Yes, the ham was just delicious..." answered another with a loud laugh.
+And they, too, passed on, so that Nesvitski did not learn who had been
+struck on the teeth, or what the ham had to do with it.
+
+"Bah! How they scurry. He just sends a ball and they think they'll all
+be killed," a sergeant was saying angrily and reproachfully.
+
+"As it flies past me, Daddy, the ball I mean," said a young soldier with
+an enormous mouth, hardly refraining from laughing, "I felt like dying
+of fright. I did, 'pon my word, I got that frightened!" said he, as if
+bragging of having been frightened.
+
+That one also passed. Then followed a cart unlike any that had gone
+before. It was a German cart with a pair of horses led by a German, and
+seemed loaded with a whole houseful of effects. A fine brindled cow with
+a large udder was attached to the cart behind. A woman with an unweaned
+baby, an old woman, and a healthy German girl with bright red cheeks
+were sitting on some feather beds. Evidently these fugitives were
+allowed to pass by special permission. The eyes of all the soldiers
+turned toward the women, and while the vehicle was passing at foot pace
+all the soldiers' remarks related to the two young ones. Every face bore
+almost the same smile, expressing unseemly thoughts about the women.
+
+"Just see, the German sausage is making tracks, too!"
+
+"Sell me the missis," said another soldier, addressing the German, who,
+angry and frightened, strode energetically along with downcast eyes.
+
+"See how smart she's made herself! Oh, the devils!"
+
+"There, Fedotov, you should be quartered on them!"
+
+"I have seen as much before now, mate!"
+
+"Where are you going?" asked an infantry officer who was eating an
+apple, also half smiling as he looked at the handsome girl.
+
+The German closed his eyes, signifying that he did not understand.
+
+"Take it if you like," said the officer, giving the girl an apple.
+
+The girl smiled and took it. Nesvitski like the rest of the men on the
+bridge did not take his eyes off the women till they had passed. When
+they had gone by, the same stream of soldiers followed, with the same
+kind of talk, and at last all stopped. As often happens, the horses of a
+convoy wagon became restive at the end of the bridge, and the whole
+crowd had to wait.
+
+"And why are they stopping? There's no proper order!" said the soldiers.
+"Where are you shoving to? Devil take you! Can't you wait? It'll be
+worse if he fires the bridge. See, here's an officer jammed in too"--
+different voices were saying in the crowd, as the men looked at one
+another, and all pressed toward the exit from the bridge.
+
+Looking down at the waters of the Enns under the bridge, Nesvitski
+suddenly heard a sound new to him, of something swiftly approaching...
+something big, that splashed into the water.
+
+"Just see where it carries to!" a soldier near by said sternly, looking
+round at the sound.
+
+"Encouraging us to get along quicker," said another uneasily.
+
+The crowd moved on again. Nesvitski realized that it was a cannon ball.
+
+"Hey, Cossack, my horse!" he said. "Now, then, you there! get out of the
+way! Make way!"
+
+With great difficulty he managed to get to his horse, and shouting
+continually he moved on. The soldiers squeezed themselves to make way
+for him, but again pressed on him so that they jammed his leg, and those
+nearest him were not to blame for they were themselves pressed still
+harder from behind.
+
+"Nesvitski, Nesvitski! you numskull!" came a hoarse voice from behind
+him.
+
+Nesvitski looked round and saw, some fifteen paces away but separated by
+the living mass of moving infantry, Vaska Denisov, red and shaggy, with
+his cap on the back of his black head and a cloak hanging jauntily over
+his shoulder.
+
+"Tell these devils, these fiends, to let me pass!" shouted Denisov
+evidently in a fit of rage, his coal-black eyes with their bloodshot
+whites glittering and rolling as he waved his sheathed saber in a small
+bare hand as red as his face.
+
+"Ah, Vaska!" joyfully replied Nesvitski. "What's up with you?"
+
+"The squadwon can't pass," shouted Vaska Denisov, showing his white
+teeth fiercely and spurring his black thoroughbred Arab, which twitched
+its ears as the bayonets touched it, and snorted, spurting white foam
+from his bit, tramping the planks of the bridge with his hoofs, and
+apparently ready to jump over the railings had his rider let him. "What
+is this? They're like sheep! Just like sheep! Out of the way!... Let us
+pass!... Stop there, you devil with the cart! I'll hack you with my
+saber!" he shouted, actually drawing his saber from its scabbard and
+flourishing it.
+
+The soldiers crowded against one another with terrified faces, and
+Denisov joined Nesvitski.
+
+"How's it you're not drunk today?" said Nesvitski when the other had
+ridden up to him.
+
+"They don't even give one time to dwink!" answered Vaska Denisov. "They
+keep dwagging the wegiment to and fwo all day. If they mean to fight,
+let's fight. But the devil knows what this is."
+
+"What a dandy you are today!" said Nesvitski, looking at Denisov's new
+cloak and saddlecloth.
+
+Denisov smiled, took out of his sabretache a handkerchief that diffused
+a smell of perfume, and put it to Nesvitski's nose.
+
+"Of course. I'm going into action! I've shaved, bwushed my teeth, and
+scented myself."
+
+The imposing figure of Nesvitski followed by his Cossack, and the
+determination of Denisov who flourished his sword and shouted
+frantically, had such an effect that they managed to squeeze through to
+the farther side of the bridge and stopped the infantry. Beside the
+bridge Nesvitski found the colonel to whom he had to deliver the order,
+and having done this he rode back.
+
+Having cleared the way Denisov stopped at the end of the bridge.
+Carelessly holding in his stallion that was neighing and pawing the
+ground, eager to rejoin its fellows, he watched his squadron draw
+nearer. Then the clang of hoofs, as of several horses galloping,
+resounded on the planks of the bridge, and the squadron, officers in
+front and men four abreast, spread across the bridge and began to emerge
+on his side of it.
+
+The infantry who had been stopped crowded near the bridge in the
+trampled mud and gazed with that particular feeling of ill-will,
+estrangement, and ridicule with which troops of different arms usually
+encounter one another at the clean, smart hussars who moved past them in
+regular order.
+
+"Smart lads! Only fit for a fair!" said one.
+
+"What good are they? They're led about just for show!" remarked another.
+
+"Don't kick up the dust, you infantry!" jested an hussar whose prancing
+horse had splashed mud over some foot soldiers.
+
+"I'd like to put you on a two days' march with a knapsack! Your fine
+cords would soon get a bit rubbed," said an infantryman, wiping the mud
+off his face with his sleeve. "Perched up there, you're more like a bird
+than a man."
+
+"There now, Zikin, they ought to put you on a horse. You'd look fine,"
+said a corporal, chaffing a thin little soldier who bent under the
+weight of his knapsack.
+
+"Take a stick between your legs, that'll suit you for a horse!" the
+hussar shouted back.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+The last of the infantry hurriedly crossed the bridge, squeezing
+together as they approached it as if passing through a funnel. At last
+the baggage wagons had all crossed, the crush was less, and the last
+battalion came onto the bridge. Only Denisov's squadron of hussars
+remained on the farther side of the bridge facing the enemy, who could
+be seen from the hill on the opposite bank but was not yet visible from
+the bridge, for the horizon as seen from the valley through which the
+river flowed was formed by the rising ground only half a mile away. At
+the foot of the hill lay wasteland over which a few groups of our
+Cossack scouts were moving. Suddenly on the road at the top of the high
+ground, artillery and troops in blue uniform were seen. These were the
+French. A group of Cossack scouts retired down the hill at a trot. All
+the officers and men of Denisov's squadron, though they tried to talk of
+other things and to look in other directions, thought only of what was
+there on the hilltop, and kept constantly looking at the patches
+appearing on the skyline, which they knew to be the enemy's troops. The
+weather had cleared again since noon and the sun was descending brightly
+upon the Danube and the dark hills around it. It was calm, and at
+intervals the bugle calls and the shouts of the enemy could be heard
+from the hill. There was no one now between the squadron and the enemy
+except a few scattered skirmishers. An empty space of some seven hundred
+yards was all that separated them. The enemy ceased firing, and that
+stern, threatening, inaccessible, and intangible line which separates
+two hostile armies was all the more clearly felt.
+
+"One step beyond that boundary line which resembles the line dividing
+the living from the dead lies uncertainty, suffering, and death. And
+what is there? Who is there?--there beyond that field, that tree, that
+roof lit up by the sun? No one knows, but one wants to know. You fear
+and yet long to cross that line, and know that sooner or later it must
+be crossed and you will have to find out what is there, just as you will
+inevitably have to learn what lies the other side of death. But you are
+strong, healthy, cheerful, and excited, and are surrounded by other such
+excitedly animated and healthy men." So thinks, or at any rate feels,
+anyone who comes in sight of the enemy, and that feeling gives a
+particular glamour and glad keenness of impression to everything that
+takes place at such moments.
+
+On the high ground where the enemy was, the smoke of a cannon rose, and
+a ball flew whistling over the heads of the hussar squadron. The
+officers who had been standing together rode off to their places. The
+hussars began carefully aligning their horses. Silence fell on the whole
+squadron. All were looking at the enemy in front and at the squadron
+commander, awaiting the word of command. A second and a third cannon
+ball flew past. Evidently they were firing at the hussars, but the balls
+with rapid rhythmic whistle flew over the heads of the horsemen and fell
+somewhere beyond them. The hussars did not look round, but at the sound
+of each shot, as at the word of command, the whole squadron with its
+rows of faces so alike yet so different, holding its breath while the
+ball flew past, rose in the stirrups and sank back again. The soldiers
+without turning their heads glanced at one another, curious to see their
+comrades' impression. Every face, from Denisov's to that of the bugler,
+showed one common expression of conflict, irritation, and excitement,
+around chin and mouth. The quartermaster frowned, looking at the
+soldiers as if threatening to punish them. Cadet Mironov ducked every
+time a ball flew past. Rostov on the left flank, mounted on his Rook--a
+handsome horse despite its game leg--had the happy air of a schoolboy
+called up before a large audience for an examination in which he feels
+sure he will distinguish himself. He was glancing at everyone with a
+clear, bright expression, as if asking them to notice how calmly he sat
+under fire. But despite himself, on his face too that same indication of
+something new and stern showed round the mouth.
+
+"Who's that curtseying there? Cadet Miwonov! That's not wight! Look at
+me," cried Denisov who, unable to keep still on one spot, kept turning
+his horse in front of the squadron.
+
+The black, hairy, snub-nosed face of Vaska Denisov, and his whole short
+sturdy figure with the sinewy hairy hand and stumpy fingers in which he
+held the hilt of his naked saber, looked just as it usually did,
+especially toward evening when he had emptied his second bottle; he was
+only redder than usual. With his shaggy head thrown back like birds when
+they drink, pressing his spurs mercilessly into the sides of his good
+horse, Bedouin, and sitting as though falling backwards in the saddle,
+he galloped to the other flank of the squadron and shouted in a hoarse
+voice to the men to look to their pistols. He rode up to Kirsten. The
+staff captain on his broad-backed, steady mare came at a walk to meet
+him. His face with its long mustache was serious as always, only his
+eyes were brighter than usual.
+
+"Well, what about it?" said he to Denisov. "It won't come to a fight.
+You'll see--we shall retire."
+
+"The devil only knows what they're about!" muttered Denisov. "Ah,
+Wostov," he cried noticing the cadet's bright face, "you've got it at
+last."
+
+And he smiled approvingly, evidently pleased with the cadet. Rostov felt
+perfectly happy. Just then the commander appeared on the bridge. Denisov
+galloped up to him.
+
+"Your excellency! Let us attack them! I'll dwive them off."
+
+"Attack indeed!" said the colonel in a bored voice, puckering up his
+face as if driving off a troublesome fly. "And why are you stopping
+here? Don't you see the skirmishers are retreating? Lead the squadron
+back."
+
+The squadron crossed the bridge and drew out of range of fire without
+having lost a single man. The second squadron that had been in the front
+line followed them across and the last Cossacks quitted the farther side
+of the river.
+
+The two Pavlograd squadrons, having crossed the bridge, retired up the
+hill one after the other. Their colonel, Karl Bogdanich Schubert, came
+up to Denisov's squadron and rode at a footpace not far from Rostov,
+without taking any notice of him although they were now meeting for the
+first time since their encounter concerning Telyanin. Rostov, feeling
+that he was at the front and in the power of a man toward whom he now
+admitted that he had been to blame, did not lift his eyes from the
+colonel's athletic back, his nape covered with light hair, and his red
+neck. It seemed to Rostov that Bogdanich was only pretending not to
+notice him, and that his whole aim now was to test the cadet's courage,
+so he drew himself up and looked around him merrily; then it seemed to
+him that Bogdanich rode so near in order to show him his courage. Next
+he thought that his enemy would send the squadron on a desperate attack
+just to punish him--Rostov. Then he imagined how, after the attack,
+Bogdanich would come up to him as he lay wounded and would magnanimously
+extend the hand of reconciliation.
+
+The high-shouldered figure of Zherkov, familiar to the Pavlograds as he
+had but recently left their regiment, rode up to the colonel. After his
+dismissal from headquarters Zherkov had not remained in the regiment,
+saying he was not such a fool as to slave at the front when he could get
+more rewards by doing nothing on the staff, and had succeeded in
+attaching himself as an orderly officer to Prince Bagration. He now came
+to his former chief with an order from the commander of the rear guard.
+
+"Colonel," he said, addressing Rostov's enemy with an air of gloomy
+gravity and glancing round at his comrades, "there is an order to stop
+and fire the bridge."
+
+"An order to who?" asked the colonel morosely.
+
+"I don't myself know 'to who,'" replied the cornet in a serious tone,
+"but the prince told me to 'go and tell the colonel that the hussars
+must return quickly and fire the bridge.'"
+
+Zherkov was followed by an officer of the suite who rode up to the
+colonel of hussars with the same order. After him the stout Nesvitski
+came galloping up on a Cossack horse that could scarcely carry his
+weight.
+
+"How's this, Colonel?" he shouted as he approached. "I told you to fire
+the bridge, and now someone has gone and blundered; they are all beside
+themselves over there and one can't make anything out."
+
+The colonel deliberately stopped the regiment and turned to Nesvitski.
+
+"You spoke to me of inflammable material," said he, "but you said
+nothing about firing it."
+
+"But, my dear sir," said Nesvitski as he drew up, taking off his cap and
+smoothing his hair wet with perspiration with his plump hand, "wasn't I
+telling you to fire the bridge, when inflammable material had been put
+in position?"
+
+"I am not your 'dear sir,' Mr. Staff Officer, and you did not tell me to
+burn the bridge! I know the service, and it is my habit orders strictly
+to obey. You said the bridge would be burned, but who would it burn, I
+could not know by the holy spirit!"
+
+"Ah, that's always the way!" said Nesvitski with a wave of the hand.
+"How did you get here?" said he, turning to Zherkov.
+
+"On the same business. But you are damp! Let me wring you out!"
+
+"You were saying, Mr. Staff Officer..." continued the colonel in an
+offended tone.
+
+"Colonel," interrupted the officer of the suite, "You must be quick or
+the enemy will bring up his guns to use grapeshot."
+
+The colonel looked silently at the officer of the suite, at the stout
+staff officer, and at Zherkov, and he frowned.
+
+"I will the bridge fire," he said in a solemn tone as if to announce
+that in spite of all the unpleasantness he had to endure he would still
+do the right thing.
+
+Striking his horse with his long muscular legs as if it were to blame
+for everything, the colonel moved forward and ordered the second
+squadron, that in which Rostov was serving under Denisov, to return to
+the bridge.
+
+"There, it's just as I thought," said Rostov to himself. "He wishes to
+test me!" His heart contracted and the blood rushed to his face. "Let
+him see whether I am a coward!" he thought.
+
+Again on all the bright faces of the squadron the serious expression
+appeared that they had worn when under fire. Rostov watched his enemy,
+the colonel, closely--to find in his face confirmation of his own
+conjecture, but the colonel did not once glance at Rostov, and looked as
+he always did when at the front, solemn and stern. Then came the word of
+command.
+
+"Look sharp! Look sharp!" several voices repeated around him.
+
+Their sabers catching in the bridles and their spurs jingling, the
+hussars hastily dismounted, not knowing what they were to do. The men
+were crossing themselves. Rostov no longer looked at the colonel, he had
+no time. He was afraid of falling behind the hussars, so much afraid
+that his heart stood still. His hand trembled as he gave his horse into
+an orderly's charge, and he felt the blood rush to his heart with a
+thud. Denisov rode past him, leaning back and shouting something. Rostov
+saw nothing but the hussars running all around him, their spurs catching
+and their sabers clattering.
+
+"Stretchers!" shouted someone behind him.
+
+Rostov did not think what this call for stretchers meant; he ran on,
+trying only to be ahead of the others; but just at the bridge, not
+looking at the ground, he came on some sticky, trodden mud, stumbled,
+and fell on his hands. The others outstripped him.
+
+"At boss zides, Captain," he heard the voice of the colonel, who, having
+ridden ahead, had pulled up his horse near the bridge, with a
+triumphant, cheerful face.
+
+Rostov wiping his muddy hands on his breeches looked at his enemy and
+was about to run on, thinking that the farther he went to the front the
+better. But Bogdanich, without looking at or recognizing Rostov, shouted
+to him:
+
+"Who's that running on the middle of the bridge? To the right! Come
+back, Cadet!" he cried angrily; and turning to Denisov, who, showing off
+his courage, had ridden on to the planks of the bridge:
+
+"Why run risks, Captain? You should dismount," he said.
+
+"Oh, every bullet has its billet," answered Vaska Denisov, turning in
+his saddle.
+
+Meanwhile Nesvitski, Zherkov, and the officer of the suite were standing
+together out of range of the shots, watching, now the small group of men
+with yellow shakos, dark-green jackets braided with cord, and blue
+riding breeches, who were swarming near the bridge, and then at what was
+approaching in the distance from the opposite side--the blue uniforms
+and groups with horses, easily recognizable as artillery.
+
+"Will they burn the bridge or not? Who'll get there first? Will they get
+there and fire the bridge or will the French get within grapeshot range
+and wipe them out?" These were the questions each man of the troops on
+the high ground above the bridge involuntarily asked himself with a
+sinking heart--watching the bridge and the hussars in the bright evening
+light and the blue tunics advancing from the other side with their
+bayonets and guns.
+
+"Ugh. The hussars will get it hot!" said Nesvitski; "they are within
+grapeshot range now."
+
+"He shouldn't have taken so many men," said the officer of the suite.
+
+"True enough," answered Nesvitski; "two smart fellows could have done
+the job just as well."
+
+"Ah, your excellency," put in Zherkov, his eyes fixed on the hussars,
+but still with that naive air that made it impossible to know whether he
+was speaking in jest or in earnest. "Ah, your excellency! How you look
+at things! Send two men? And who then would give us the Vladimir medal
+and ribbon? But now, even if they do get peppered, the squadron may be
+recommended for honors and he may get a ribbon. Our Bogdanich knows how
+things are done."
+
+"There now!" said the officer of the suite, "that's grapeshot."
+
+He pointed to the French guns, the limbers of which were being detached
+and hurriedly removed.
+
+On the French side, amid the groups with cannon, a cloud of smoke
+appeared, then a second and a third almost simultaneously, and at the
+moment when the first report was heard a fourth was seen. Then two
+reports one after another, and a third.
+
+"Oh! Oh!" groaned Nesvitski as if in fierce pain, seizing the officer of
+the suite by the arm. "Look! A man has fallen! Fallen, fallen!"
+
+"Two, I think."
+
+"If I were Tsar I would never go to war," said Nesvitski, turning away.
+
+The French guns were hastily reloaded. The infantry in their blue
+uniforms advanced toward the bridge at a run. Smoke appeared again but
+at irregular intervals, and grapeshot cracked and rattled onto the
+bridge. But this time Nesvitski could not see what was happening there,
+as a dense cloud of smoke arose from it. The hussars had succeeded in
+setting it on fire and the French batteries were now firing at them, no
+longer to hinder them but because the guns were trained and there was
+someone to fire at.
+
+The French had time to fire three rounds of grapeshot before the hussars
+got back to their horses. Two were misdirected and the shot went too
+high, but the last round fell in the midst of a group of hussars and
+knocked three of them over.
+
+Rostov, absorbed by his relations with Bogdanich, had paused on the
+bridge not knowing what to do. There was no one to hew down (as he had
+always imagined battles to himself), nor could he help to fire the
+bridge because he had not brought any burning straw with him like the
+other soldiers. He stood looking about him, when suddenly he heard a
+rattle on the bridge as if nuts were being spilt, and the hussar nearest
+to him fell against the rails with a groan. Rostov ran up to him with
+the others. Again someone shouted, "Stretchers!" Four men seized the
+hussar and began lifting him.
+
+"Oooh! For Christ's sake let me alone!" cried the wounded man, but still
+he was lifted and laid on the stretcher.
+
+Nicholas Rostov turned away and, as if searching for something, gazed
+into the distance, at the waters of the Danube, at the sky, and at the
+sun. How beautiful the sky looked; how blue, how calm, and how deep! How
+bright and glorious was the setting sun! With what soft glitter the
+waters of the distant Danube shone. And fairer still were the faraway
+blue mountains beyond the river, the nunnery, the mysterious gorges, and
+the pine forests veiled in the mist of their summits... There was peace
+and happiness... "I should wish for nothing else, nothing, if only I
+were there," thought Rostov. "In myself alone and in that sunshine there
+is so much happiness; but here... groans, suffering, fear, and this
+uncertainty and hurry... There--they are shouting again, and again are
+all running back somewhere, and I shall run with them, and it, death, is
+here above me and around... Another instant and I shall never again see
+the sun, this water, that gorge!..."
+
+At that instant the sun began to hide behind the clouds, and other
+stretchers came into view before Rostov. And the fear of death and of
+the stretchers, and love of the sun and of life, all merged into one
+feeling of sickening agitation.
+
+"O Lord God! Thou who art in that heaven, save, forgive, and protect
+me!" Rostov whispered.
+
+The hussars ran back to the men who held their horses; their voices
+sounded louder and calmer, the stretchers disappeared from sight.
+
+"Well, fwiend? So you've smelt powdah!" shouted Vaska Denisov just above
+his ear.
+
+"It's all over; but I am a coward--yes, a coward!" thought Rostov, and
+sighing deeply he took Rook, his horse, which stood resting one foot,
+from the orderly and began to mount.
+
+"Was that grapeshot?" he asked Denisov.
+
+"Yes and no mistake!" cried Denisov. "You worked like wegular bwicks and
+it's nasty work! An attack's pleasant work! Hacking away at the dogs!
+But this sort of thing is the very devil, with them shooting at you like
+a target."
+
+And Denisov rode up to a group that had stopped near Rostov, composed of
+the colonel, Nesvitski, Zherkov, and the officer from the suite.
+
+"Well, it seems that no one has noticed," thought Rostov. And this was
+true. No one had taken any notice, for everyone knew the sensation which
+the cadet under fire for the first time had experienced.
+
+"Here's something for you to report," said Zherkov. "See if I don't get
+promoted to a sublieutenancy."
+
+"Inform the prince that I the bridge fired!" said the colonel
+triumphantly and gaily.
+
+"And if he asks about the losses?"
+
+"A trifle," said the colonel in his bass voice: "two hussars wounded,
+and one knocked out," he added, unable to restrain a happy smile, and
+pronouncing the phrase "knocked out" with ringing distinctness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+Pursued by the French army of a hundred thousand men under the command
+of Bonaparte, encountering a population that was unfriendly to it,
+losing confidence in its allies, suffering from shortness of supplies,
+and compelled to act under conditions of war unlike anything that had
+been foreseen, the Russian army of thirty-five thousand men commanded by
+Kutuzov was hurriedly retreating along the Danube, stopping where
+overtaken by the enemy and fighting rearguard actions only as far as
+necessary to enable it to retreat without losing its heavy equipment.
+There had been actions at Lambach, Amstetten, and Melk; but despite the
+courage and endurance--acknowledged even by the enemy--with which the
+Russians fought, the only consequence of these actions was a yet more
+rapid retreat. Austrian troops that had escaped capture at Ulm and had
+joined Kutuzov at Braunau now separated from the Russian army, and
+Kutuzov was left with only his own weak and exhausted forces. The
+defense of Vienna was no longer to be thought of. Instead of an
+offensive, the plan of which, carefully prepared in accord with the
+modern science of strategics, had been handed to Kutuzov when he was in
+Vienna by the Austrian Hofkriegsrath, the sole and almost unattainable
+aim remaining for him was to effect a junction with the forces that were
+advancing from Russia, without losing his army as Mack had done at Ulm.
+
+On the twenty-eighth of October Kutuzov with his army crossed to the
+left bank of the Danube and took up a position for the first time with
+the river between himself and the main body of the French. On the
+thirtieth he attacked Mortier's division, which was on the left bank,
+and broke it up. In this action for the first time trophies were taken:
+banners, cannon, and two enemy generals. For the first time, after a
+fortnight's retreat, the Russian troops had halted and after a fight had
+not only held the field but had repulsed the French. Though the troops
+were ill-clad, exhausted, and had lost a third of their number in
+killed, wounded, sick, and stragglers; though a number of sick and
+wounded had been abandoned on the other side of the Danube with a letter
+in which Kutuzov entrusted them to the humanity of the enemy; and though
+the big hospitals and the houses in Krems converted into military
+hospitals could no longer accommodate all the sick and wounded, yet the
+stand made at Krems and the victory over Mortier raised the spirits of
+the army considerably. Throughout the whole army and at headquarters
+most joyful though erroneous rumors were rife of the imaginary approach
+of columns from Russia, of some victory gained by the Austrians, and of
+the retreat of the frightened Bonaparte.
+
+Prince Andrew during the battle had been in attendance on the Austrian
+General Schmidt, who was killed in the action. His horse had been
+wounded under him and his own arm slightly grazed by a bullet. As a mark
+of the commander-in-chief's special favor he was sent with the news of
+this victory to the Austrian court, now no longer at Vienna (which was
+threatened by the French) but at Brunn. Despite his apparently delicate
+build Prince Andrew could endure physical fatigue far better than many
+very muscular men, and on the night of the battle, having arrived at
+Krems excited but not weary, with dispatches from Dokhturov to Kutuzov,
+he was sent immediately with a special dispatch to Brunn. To be so sent
+meant not only a reward but an important step toward promotion.
+
+The night was dark but starry, the road showed black in the snow that
+had fallen the previous day--the day of the battle. Reviewing his
+impressions of the recent battle, picturing pleasantly to himself the
+impression his news of a victory would create, or recalling the send-off
+given him by the commander-in-chief and his fellow officers, Prince
+Andrew was galloping along in a post chaise enjoying the feelings of a
+man who has at length begun to attain a long-desired happiness. As soon
+as he closed his eyes his ears seemed filled with the rattle of the
+wheels and the sensation of victory. Then he began to imagine that the
+Russians were running away and that he himself was killed, but he
+quickly roused himself with a feeling of joy, as if learning afresh that
+this was not so but that on the contrary the French had run away. He
+again recalled all the details of the victory and his own calm courage
+during the battle, and feeling reassured he dozed off.... The dark
+starry night was followed by a bright cheerful morning. The snow was
+thawing in the sunshine, the horses galloped quickly, and on both sides
+of the road were forests of different kinds, fields, and villages.
+
+At one of the post stations he overtook a convoy of Russian wounded. The
+Russian officer in charge of the transport lolled back in the front
+cart, shouting and scolding a soldier with coarse abuse. In each of the
+long German carts six or more pale, dirty, bandaged men were being
+jolted over the stony road. Some of them were talking (he heard Russian
+words), others were eating bread; the more severely wounded looked
+silently, with the languid interest of sick children, at the envoy
+hurrying past them.
+
+Prince Andrew told his driver to stop, and asked a soldier in what
+action they had been wounded. "Day before yesterday, on the Danube,"
+answered the soldier. Prince Andrew took out his purse and gave the
+soldier three gold pieces.
+
+"That's for them all," he said to the officer who came up.
+
+"Get well soon, lads!" he continued, turning to the soldiers. "There's
+plenty to do still."
+
+"What news, sir?" asked the officer, evidently anxious to start a
+conversation.
+
+"Good news!... Go on!" he shouted to the driver, and they galloped on.
+
+It was already quite dark when Prince Andrew rattled over the paved
+streets of Brunn and found himself surrounded by high buildings, the
+lights of shops, houses, and street lamps, fine carriages, and all that
+atmosphere of a large and active town which is always so attractive to a
+soldier after camp life. Despite his rapid journey and sleepless night,
+Prince Andrew when he drove up to the palace felt even more vigorous and
+alert than he had done the day before. Only his eyes gleamed feverishly
+and his thoughts followed one another with extraordinary clearness and
+rapidity. He again vividly recalled the details of the battle, no longer
+dim, but definite and in the concise form in which he imagined himself
+stating them to the Emperor Francis. He vividly imagined the casual
+questions that might be put to him and the answers he would give. He
+expected to be at once presented to the Emperor. At the chief entrance
+to the palace, however, an official came running out to meet him, and
+learning that he was a special messenger led him to another entrance.
+
+"To the right from the corridor, Euer Hochgeboren! There you will find
+the adjutant on duty," said the official. "He will conduct you to the
+Minister of War."
+
+The adjutant on duty, meeting Prince Andrew, asked him to wait, and went
+in to the Minister of War. Five minutes later he returned and bowing
+with particular courtesy ushered Prince Andrew before him along a
+corridor to the cabinet where the Minister of War was at work. The
+adjutant by his elaborate courtesy appeared to wish to ward off any
+attempt at familiarity on the part of the Russian messenger.
+
+Prince Andrew's joyous feeling was considerably weakened as he
+approached the door of the minister's room. He felt offended, and
+without his noticing it the feeling of offense immediately turned into
+one of disdain which was quite uncalled for. His fertile mind instantly
+suggested to him a point of view which gave him a right to despise the
+adjutant and the minister. "Away from the smell of powder, they probably
+think it easy to gain victories!" he thought. His eyes narrowed
+disdainfully, he entered the room of the Minister of War with peculiarly
+deliberate steps. This feeling of disdain was heightened when he saw the
+minister seated at a large table reading some papers and making pencil
+notes on them, and for the first two or three minutes taking no notice
+of his arrival. A wax candle stood at each side of the minister's bent
+bald head with its gray temples. He went on reading to the end, without
+raising his eyes at the opening of the door and the sound of footsteps.
+
+"Take this and deliver it," said he to his adjutant, handing him the
+papers and still taking no notice of the special messenger.
+
+Prince Andrew felt that either the actions of Kutuzov's army interested
+the Minister of War less than any of the other matters he was concerned
+with, or he wanted to give the Russian special messenger that
+impression. "But that is a matter of perfect indifference to me," he
+thought. The minister drew the remaining papers together, arranged them
+evenly, and then raised his head. He had an intellectual and distinctive
+head, but the instant he turned to Prince Andrew the firm, intelligent
+expression on his face changed in a way evidently deliberate and
+habitual to him. His face took on the stupid artificial smile (which
+does not even attempt to hide its artificiality) of a man who is
+continually receiving many petitioners one after another.
+
+"From General Field Marshal Kutuzov?" he asked. "I hope it is good news?
+There has been an encounter with Mortier? A victory? It was high time!"
+
+He took the dispatch which was addressed to him and began to read it
+with a mournful expression.
+
+"Oh, my God! My God! Schmidt!" he exclaimed in German. "What a calamity!
+What a calamity!"
+
+Having glanced through the dispatch he laid it on the table and looked
+at Prince Andrew, evidently considering something.
+
+"Ah what a calamity! You say the affair was decisive? But Mortier is not
+captured." Again he pondered. "I am very glad you have brought good
+news, though Schmidt's death is a heavy price to pay for the victory.
+His Majesty will no doubt wish to see you, but not today. I thank you!
+You must have a rest. Be at the levee tomorrow after the parade.
+However, I will let you know."
+
+The stupid smile, which had left his face while he was speaking,
+reappeared.
+
+"Au revoir! Thank you very much. His Majesty will probably desire to see
+you," he added, bowing his head.
+
+When Prince Andrew left the palace he felt that all the interest and
+happiness the victory had afforded him had been now left in the
+indifferent hands of the Minister of War and the polite adjutant. The
+whole tenor of his thoughts instantaneously changed; the battle seemed
+the memory of a remote event long past.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+Prince Andrew stayed at Brunn with Bilibin, a Russian acquaintance of
+his in the diplomatic service.
+
+"Ah, my dear prince! I could not have a more welcome visitor," said
+Bilibin as he came out to meet Prince Andrew. "Franz, put the prince's
+things in my bedroom," said he to the servant who was ushering Bolkonski
+in. "So you're a messenger of victory, eh? Splendid! And I am sitting
+here ill, as you see."
+
+After washing and dressing, Prince Andrew came into the diplomat's
+luxurious study and sat down to the dinner prepared for him. Bilibin
+settled down comfortably beside the fire.
+
+After his journey and the campaign during which he had been deprived of
+all the comforts of cleanliness and all the refinements of life, Prince
+Andrew felt a pleasant sense of repose among luxurious surroundings such
+as he had been accustomed to from childhood. Besides it was pleasant,
+after his reception by the Austrians, to speak if not in Russian (for
+they were speaking French) at least with a Russian who would, he
+supposed, share the general Russian antipathy to the Austrians which was
+then particularly strong.
+
+Bilibin was a man of thirty-five, a bachelor, and of the same circle as
+Prince Andrew. They had known each other previously in Petersburg, but
+had become more intimate when Prince Andrew was in Vienna with Kutuzov.
+Just as Prince Andrew was a young man who gave promise of rising high in
+the military profession, so to an even greater extent Bilibin gave
+promise of rising in his diplomatic career. He still a young man but no
+longer a young diplomat, as he had entered the service at the age of
+sixteen, had been in Paris and Copenhagen, and now held a rather
+important post in Vienna. Both the foreign minister and our ambassador
+in Vienna knew him and valued him. He was not one of those many
+diplomats who are esteemed because they have certain negative qualities,
+avoid doing certain things, and speak French. He was one of those, who,
+liking work, knew how to do it, and despite his indolence would
+sometimes spend a whole night at his writing table. He worked well
+whatever the import of his work. It was not the question "What for?" but
+the question "How?" that interested him. What the diplomatic matter
+might be he did not care, but it gave him great pleasure to prepare a
+circular, memorandum, or report, skillfully, pointedly, and elegantly.
+Bilibin's services were valued not only for what he wrote, but also for
+his skill in dealing and conversing with those in the highest spheres.
+
+Bilibin liked conversation as he liked work, only when it could be made
+elegantly witty. In society he always awaited an opportunity to say
+something striking and took part in a conversation only when that was
+possible. His conversation was always sprinkled with wittily original,
+finished phrases of general interest. These sayings were prepared in the
+inner laboratory of his mind in a portable form as if intentionally, so
+that insignificant society people might carry them from drawing room to
+drawing room. And, in fact, Bilibin's witticisms were hawked about in
+the Viennese drawing rooms and often had an influence on matters
+considered important.
+
+His thin, worn, sallow face was covered with deep wrinkles, which always
+looked as clean and well washed as the tips of one's fingers after a
+Russian bath. The movement of these wrinkles formed the principal play
+of expression on his face. Now his forehead would pucker into deep folds
+and his eyebrows were lifted, then his eyebrows would descend and deep
+wrinkles would crease his cheeks. His small, deep-set eyes always
+twinkled and looked out straight.
+
+"Well, now tell me about your exploits," said he.
+
+Bolkonski, very modestly without once mentioning himself, described the
+engagement and his reception by the Minister of War.
+
+"They received me and my news as one receives a dog in a game of
+skittles," said he in conclusion.
+
+Bilibin smiled and the wrinkles on his face disappeared.
+
+"Cependant, mon cher," he remarked, examining his nails from a distance
+and puckering the skin above his left eye, "malgre la haute estime que
+je professe pour the Orthodox Russian army, j'avoue que votre victoire
+n'est pas des plus victorieuses." *
+
+
+* "But my dear fellow, with all my respect for the Orthodox Russian
+army, I must say that your victory was not particularly victorious."
+
+He went on talking in this way in French, uttering only those words in
+Russian on which he wished to put a contemptuous emphasis.
+
+"Come now! You with all your forces fall on the unfortunate Mortier and
+his one division, and even then Mortier slips through your fingers!
+Where's the victory?"
+
+"But seriously," said Prince Andrew, "we can at any rate say without
+boasting that it was a little better than at Ulm..."
+
+"Why didn't you capture one, just one, marshal for us?"
+
+"Because not everything happens as one expects or with the smoothness of
+a parade. We had expected, as I told you, to get at their rear by seven
+in the morning but had not reached it by five in the afternoon."
+
+"And why didn't you do it at seven in the morning? You ought to have
+been there at seven in the morning," returned Bilibin with a smile. "You
+ought to have been there at seven in the morning."
+
+"Why did you not succeed in impressing on Bonaparte by diplomatic
+methods that he had better leave Genoa alone?" retorted Prince Andrew in
+the same tone.
+
+"I know," interrupted Bilibin, "you're thinking it's very easy to take
+marshals, sitting on a sofa by the fire! That is true, but still why
+didn't you capture him? So don't be surprised if not only the Minister
+of War but also his Most August Majesty the Emperor and King Francis is
+not much delighted by your victory. Even I, a poor secretary of the
+Russian Embassy, do not feel any need in token of my joy to give my
+Franz a thaler, or let him go with his Liebchen to the Prater... True,
+we have no Prater here..."
+
+He looked straight at Prince Andrew and suddenly unwrinkled his
+forehead.
+
+"It is now my turn to ask you 'why?' mon cher," said Bolkonski. "I
+confess I do not understand: perhaps there are diplomatic subtleties
+here beyond my feeble intelligence, but I can't make it out. Mack loses
+a whole army, the Archduke Ferdinand and the Archduke Karl give no signs
+of life and make blunder after blunder. Kutuzov alone at last gains a
+real victory, destroying the spell of the invincibility of the French,
+and the Minister of War does not even care to hear the details."
+
+"That's just it, my dear fellow. You see it's hurrah for the Tsar, for
+Russia, for the Orthodox Greek faith! All that is beautiful, but what do
+we, I mean the Austrian court, care for your victories? Bring us nice
+news of a victory by the Archduke Karl or Ferdinand (one archduke's as
+good as another, as you know) and even if it is only over a fire brigade
+of Bonaparte's, that will be another story and we'll fire off some
+cannon! But this sort of thing seems done on purpose to vex us. The
+Archduke Karl does nothing, the Archduke Ferdinand disgraces himself.
+You abandon Vienna, give up its defense--as much as to say: 'Heaven is
+with us, but heaven help you and your capital!' The one general whom we
+all loved, Schmidt, you expose to a bullet, and then you congratulate us
+on the victory! Admit that more irritating news than yours could not
+have been conceived. It's as if it had been done on purpose, on purpose.
+Besides, suppose you did gain a brilliant victory, if even the Archduke
+Karl gained a victory, what effect would that have on the general course
+of events? It's too late now when Vienna is occupied by the French
+army!"
+
+"What? Occupied? Vienna occupied?"
+
+"Not only occupied, but Bonaparte is at Schonbrunn, and the count, our
+dear Count Vrbna, goes to him for orders."
+
+After the fatigues and impressions of the journey, his reception, and
+especially after having dined, Bolkonski felt that he could not take in
+the full significance of the words he heard.
+
+"Count Lichtenfels was here this morning," Bilibin continued, "and
+showed me a letter in which the parade of the French in Vienna was fully
+described: Prince Murat et tout le tremblement... You see that your
+victory is not a matter for great rejoicing and that you can't be
+received as a savior."
+
+"Really I don't care about that, I don't care at all," said Prince
+Andrew, beginning to understand that his news of the battle before Krems
+was really of small importance in view of such events as the fall of
+Austria's capital. "How is it Vienna was taken? What of the bridge and
+its celebrated bridgehead and Prince Auersperg? We heard reports that
+Prince Auersperg was defending Vienna?" he said.
+
+"Prince Auersperg is on this, on our side of the river, and is defending
+us--doing it very badly, I think, but still he is defending us. But
+Vienna is on the other side. No, the bridge has not yet been taken and I
+hope it will not be, for it is mined and orders have been given to blow
+it up. Otherwise we should long ago have been in the mountains of
+Bohemia, and you and your army would have spent a bad quarter of an hour
+between two fires."
+
+"But still this does not mean that the campaign is over," said Prince
+Andrew.
+
+"Well, I think it is. The bigwigs here think so too, but they daren't
+say so. It will be as I said at the beginning of the campaign, it won't
+be your skirmishing at Durrenstein, or gunpowder at all, that will
+decide the matter, but those who devised it," said Bilibin quoting one
+of his own mots, releasing the wrinkles on his forehead, and pausing.
+"The only question is what will come of the meeting between the Emperor
+Alexander and the King of Prussia in Berlin? If Prussia joins the
+Allies, Austria's hand will be forced and there will be war. If not it
+is merely a question of settling where the preliminaries of the new
+Campo Formio are to be drawn up."
+
+"What an extraordinary genius!" Prince Andrew suddenly exclaimed,
+clenching his small hand and striking the table with it, "and what luck
+the man has!"
+
+"Buonaparte?" said Bilibin inquiringly, puckering up his forehead to
+indicate that he was about to say something witty. "Buonaparte?" he
+repeated, accentuating the u: "I think, however, now that he lays down
+laws for Austria at Schonbrunn, il faut lui faire grace de l'u! * I
+shall certainly adopt an innovation and call him simply Bonaparte!"
+
+
+* "We must let him off the u!"
+
+"But joking apart," said Prince Andrew, "do you really think the
+campaign is over?"
+
+"This is what I think. Austria has been made a fool of, and she is not
+used to it. She will retaliate. And she has been fooled in the first
+place because her provinces have been pillaged--they say the Holy
+Russian army loots terribly--her army is destroyed, her capital taken,
+and all this for the beaux yeux * of His Sardinian Majesty. And
+therefore--this is between ourselves--I instinctively feel that we are
+being deceived, my instinct tells me of negotiations with France and
+projects for peace, a secret peace concluded separately."
+
+
+* Fine eyes.
+
+"Impossible!" cried Prince Andrew. "That would be too base."
+
+"If we live we shall see," replied Bilibin, his face again becoming
+smooth as a sign that the conversation was at an end.
+
+When Prince Andrew reached the room prepared for him and lay down in a
+clean shirt on the feather bed with its warmed and fragrant pillows, he
+felt that the battle of which he had brought tidings was far, far away
+from him. The alliance with Prussia, Austria's treachery, Bonaparte's
+new triumph, tomorrow's levee and parade, and the audience with the
+Emperor Francis occupied his thoughts.
+
+He closed his eyes, and immediately a sound of cannonading, of musketry
+and the rattling of carriage wheels seemed to fill his ears, and now
+again drawn out in a thin line the musketeers were descending the hill,
+the French were firing, and he felt his heart palpitating as he rode
+forward beside Schmidt with the bullets merrily whistling all around,
+and he experienced tenfold the joy of living, as he had not done since
+childhood.
+
+He woke up...
+
+"Yes, that all happened!" he said, and, smiling happily to himself like
+a child, he fell into a deep, youthful slumber.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+Next day he woke late. Recalling his recent impressions, the first
+thought that came into his mind was that today he had to be presented to
+the Emperor Francis; he remembered the Minister of War, the polite
+Austrian adjutant, Bilibin, and last night's conversation. Having
+dressed for his attendance at court in full parade uniform, which he had
+not worn for a long time, he went into Bilibin's study fresh, animated,
+and handsome, with his hand bandaged. In the study were four gentlemen
+of the diplomatic corps. With Prince Hippolyte Kuragin, who was a
+secretary to the embassy, Bolkonski was already acquainted. Bilibin
+introduced him to the others.
+
+The gentlemen assembled at Bilibin's were young, wealthy, gay society
+men, who here, as in Vienna, formed a special set which Bilibin, their
+leader, called les notres. * This set, consisting almost exclusively of
+diplomats, evidently had its own interests which had nothing to do with
+war or politics but related to high society, to certain women, and to
+the official side of the service. These gentlemen received Prince Andrew
+as one of themselves, an honor they did not extend to many. From
+politeness and to start conversation, they asked him a few questions
+about the army and the battle, and then the talk went off into merry
+jests and gossip.
+
+
+* Ours.
+
+"But the best of it was," said one, telling of the misfortune of a
+fellow diplomat, "that the Chancellor told him flatly that his
+appointment to London was a promotion and that he was so to regard it.
+Can you fancy the figure he cut?..."
+
+"But the worst of it, gentlemen--I am giving Kuragin away to you--is
+that that man suffers, and this Don Juan, wicked fellow, is taking
+advantage of it!"
+
+Prince Hippolyte was lolling in a lounge chair with his legs over its
+arm. He began to laugh.
+
+"Tell me about that!" he said.
+
+"Oh, you Don Juan! You serpent!" cried several voices.
+
+"You, Bolkonski, don't know," said Bilibin turning to Prince Andrew,
+"that all the atrocities of the French army (I nearly said of the
+Russian army) are nothing compared to what this man has been doing among
+the women!"
+
+"La femme est la compagne de l'homme," * announced Prince Hippolyte, and
+began looking through a lorgnette at his elevated legs.
+
+
+* "Woman is man's companion."
+
+Bilibin and the rest of "ours" burst out laughing in Hippolyte's face,
+and Prince Andrew saw that Hippolyte, of whom--he had to admit--he had
+almost been jealous on his wife's account, was the butt of this set.
+
+"Oh, I must give you a treat," Bilibin whispered to Bolkonski. "Kuragin
+is exquisite when he discusses politics--you should see his gravity!"
+
+He sat down beside Hippolyte and wrinkling his forehead began talking to
+him about politics. Prince Andrew and the others gathered round these
+two.
+
+"The Berlin cabinet cannot express a feeling of alliance," began
+Hippolyte gazing round with importance at the others, "without
+expressing... as in its last note... you understand... Besides, unless
+His Majesty the Emperor derogates from the principle of our alliance...
+
+"Wait, I have not finished..." he said to Prince Andrew, seizing him by
+the arm, "I believe that intervention will be stronger than
+nonintervention. And..." he paused. "Finally one cannot impute the
+nonreceipt of our dispatch of November 18. That is how it will end." And
+he released Bolkonski's arm to indicate that he had now quite finished.
+
+"Demosthenes, I know thee by the pebble thou secretest in thy golden
+mouth!" said Bilibin, and the mop of hair on his head moved with
+satisfaction.
+
+Everybody laughed, and Hippolyte louder than anyone. He was evidently
+distressed, and breathed painfully, but could not restrain the wild
+laughter that convulsed his usually impassive features.
+
+"Well now, gentlemen," said Bilibin, "Bolkonski is my guest in this
+house and in Brunn itself. I want to entertain him as far as I can, with
+all the pleasures of life here. If we were in Vienna it would be easy,
+but here, in this wretched Moravian hole, it is more difficult, and I
+beg you all to help me. Brunn's attractions must be shown him. You can
+undertake the theater, I society, and you, Hippolyte, of course the
+women."
+
+"We must let him see Amelie, she's exquisite!" said one of "ours,"
+kissing his finger tips.
+
+"In general we must turn this bloodthirsty soldier to more humane
+interests," said Bilibin.
+
+"I shall scarcely be able to avail myself of your hospitality,
+gentlemen, it is already time for me to go," replied Prince Andrew
+looking at his watch.
+
+"Where to?"
+
+"To the Emperor."
+
+"Oh! Oh! Oh! Well, au revoir, Bolkonski! Au revoir, Prince! Come back
+early to dinner," cried several voices. "We'll take you in hand."
+
+"When speaking to the Emperor, try as far as you can to praise the way
+that provisions are supplied and the routes indicated," said Bilibin,
+accompanying him to the hall.
+
+"I should like to speak well of them, but as far as I know the facts, I
+can't," replied Bolkonski, smiling.
+
+"Well, talk as much as you can, anyway. He has a passion for giving
+audiences, but he does not like talking himself and can't do it, as you
+will see."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+At the levee Prince Andrew stood among the Austrian officers as he had
+been told to, and the Emperor Francis merely looked fixedly into his
+face and just nodded to him with his long head. But after it was over,
+the adjutant he had seen the previous day ceremoniously informed
+Bolkonski that the Emperor desired to give him an audience. The Emperor
+Francis received him standing in the middle of the room. Before the
+conversation began Prince Andrew was struck by the fact that the Emperor
+seemed confused and blushed as if not knowing what to say.
+
+"Tell me, when did the battle begin?" he asked hurriedly.
+
+Prince Andrew replied. Then followed other questions just as simple:
+"Was Kutuzov well? When had he left Krems?" and so on. The Emperor spoke
+as if his sole aim were to put a given number of questions--the answers
+to these questions, as was only too evident, did not interest him.
+
+"At what o'clock did the battle begin?" asked the Emperor.
+
+"I cannot inform Your Majesty at what o'clock the battle began at the
+front, but at Durrenstein, where I was, our attack began after five in
+the afternoon," replied Bolkonski growing more animated and expecting
+that he would have a chance to give a reliable account, which he had
+ready in his mind, of all he knew and had seen. But the Emperor smiled
+and interrupted him.
+
+"How many miles?"
+
+"From where to where, Your Majesty?"
+
+"From Durrenstein to Krems."
+
+"Three and a half miles, Your Majesty."
+
+"The French have abandoned the left bank?"
+
+"According to the scouts the last of them crossed on rafts during the
+night."
+
+"Is there sufficient forage in Krems?"
+
+"Forage has not been supplied to the extent..."
+
+The Emperor interrupted him.
+
+"At what o'clock was General Schmidt killed?"
+
+"At seven o'clock, I believe."
+
+"At seven o'clock? It's very sad, very sad!"
+
+The Emperor thanked Prince Andrew and bowed. Prince Andrew withdrew and
+was immediately surrounded by courtiers on all sides. Everywhere he saw
+friendly looks and heard friendly words. Yesterday's adjutant reproached
+him for not having stayed at the palace, and offered him his own house.
+The Minister of War came up and congratulated him on the Maria Theresa
+Order of the third grade, which the Emperor was conferring on him. The
+Empress' chamberlain invited him to see Her Majesty. The archduchess
+also wished to see him. He did not know whom to answer, and for a few
+seconds collected his thoughts. Then the Russian ambassador took him by
+the shoulder, led him to the window, and began to talk to him.
+
+Contrary to Bilibin's forecast the news he had brought was joyfully
+received. A thanksgiving service was arranged, Kutuzov was awarded the
+Grand Cross of Maria Theresa, and the whole army received rewards.
+Bolkonski was invited everywhere, and had to spend the whole morning
+calling on the principal Austrian dignitaries. Between four and five in
+the afternoon, having made all his calls, he was returning to Bilibin's
+house thinking out a letter to his father about the battle and his visit
+to Brunn. At the door he found a vehicle half full of luggage. Franz,
+Bilibin's man, was dragging a portmanteau with some difficulty out of
+the front door.
+
+Before returning to Bilibin's Prince Andrew had gone to a bookshop to
+provide himself with some books for the campaign, and had spent some
+time in the shop.
+
+"What is it?" he asked.
+
+"Oh, your excellency!" said Franz, with difficulty rolling the
+portmanteau into the vehicle, "we are to move on still farther. The
+scoundrel is again at our heels!"
+
+"Eh? What?" asked Prince Andrew.
+
+Bilibin came out to meet him. His usually calm face showed excitement.
+
+"There now! Confess that this is delightful," said he. "This affair of
+the Thabor Bridge, at Vienna.... They have crossed without striking a
+blow!"
+
+Prince Andrew could not understand.
+
+"But where do you come from not to know what every coachman in the town
+knows?"
+
+"I come from the archduchess'. I heard nothing there."
+
+"And you didn't see that everybody is packing up?"
+
+"I did not... What is it all about?" inquired Prince Andrew impatiently.
+
+"What's it all about? Why, the French have crossed the bridge that
+Auersperg was defending, and the bridge was not blown up: so Murat is
+now rushing along the road to Brunn and will be here in a day or two."
+
+"What? Here? But why did they not blow up the bridge, if it was mined?"
+
+"That is what I ask you. No one, not even Bonaparte, knows why."
+
+Bolkonski shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"But if the bridge is crossed it means that the army too is lost? It
+will be cut off," said he.
+
+"That's just it," answered Bilibin. "Listen! The French entered Vienna
+as I told you. Very well. Next day, which was yesterday, those
+gentlemen, messieurs les marechaux, * Murat, Lannes, and Belliard, mount
+and ride to the bridge. (Observe that all three are Gascons.)
+'Gentlemen,' says one of them, 'you know the Thabor Bridge is mined and
+doubly mined and that there are menacing fortifications at its head and
+an army of fifteen thousand men has been ordered to blow up the bridge
+and not let us cross? But it will please our sovereign the Emperor
+Napoleon if we take this bridge, so let us three go and take it!' 'Yes,
+let's!' say the others. And off they go and take the bridge, cross it,
+and now with their whole army are on this side of the Danube, marching
+on us, you, and your lines of communication."
+
+
+* The marshalls.
+
+"Stop jesting," said Prince Andrew sadly and seriously. This news
+grieved him and yet he was pleased.
+
+As soon as he learned that the Russian army was in such a hopeless
+situation it occurred to him that it was he who was destined to lead it
+out of this position; that here was the Toulon that would lift him from
+the ranks of obscure officers and offer him the first step to fame!
+Listening to Bilibin he was already imagining how on reaching the army
+he would give an opinion at the war council which would be the only one
+that could save the army, and how he alone would be entrusted with the
+executing of the plan.
+
+"Stop this jesting," he said.
+
+"I am not jesting," Bilibin went on. "Nothing is truer or sadder. These
+gentlemen ride onto the bridge alone and wave white handkerchiefs; they
+assure the officer on duty that they, the marshals, are on their way to
+negotiate with Prince Auersperg. He lets them enter the tête-de-pont. *
+They spin him a thousand gasconades, saying that the war is over, that
+the Emperor Francis is arranging a meeting with Bonaparte, that they
+desire to see Prince Auersperg, and so on. The officer sends for
+Auersperg; these gentlemen embrace the officers, crack jokes, sit on the
+cannon, and meanwhile a French battalion gets to the bridge unobserved,
+flings the bags of incendiary material into the water, and approaches
+the tête-de-pont. At length appears the lieutenant general, our dear
+Prince Auersperg von Mautern himself. 'Dearest foe! Flower of the
+Austrian army, hero of the Turkish wars Hostilities are ended, we can
+shake one another's hand.... The Emperor Napoleon burns with impatience
+to make Prince Auersperg's acquaintance.' In a word, those gentlemen,
+Gascons indeed, so bewildered him with fine words, and he is so
+flattered by his rapidly established intimacy with the French marshals,
+and so dazzled by the sight of Murat's mantle and ostrich plumes, qu'il
+n'y voit que du feu, et oublie celui qu'il devait faire faire sur
+l'ennemi!" *(2) In spite of the animation of his speech, Bilibin did not
+forget to pause after this mot to give time for its due appreciation.
+"The French battalion rushes to the bridgehead, spikes the guns, and the
+bridge is taken! But what is best of all," he went on, his excitement
+subsiding under the delightful interest of his own story, "is that the
+sergeant in charge of the cannon which was to give the signal to fire
+the mines and blow up the bridge, this sergeant, seeing that the French
+troops were running onto the bridge, was about to fire, but Lannes
+stayed his hand. The sergeant, who was evidently wiser than his general,
+goes up to Auersperg and says: 'Prince, you are being deceived, here are
+the French!' Murat, seeing that all is lost if the sergeant is allowed
+to speak, turns to Auersperg with feigned astonishment (he is a true
+Gascon) and says: 'I don't recognize the world-famous Austrian
+discipline, if you allow a subordinate to address you like that!' It was
+a stroke of genius. Prince Auersperg feels his dignity at stake and
+orders the sergeant to be arrested. Come, you must own that this affair
+of the Thabor Bridge is delightful! It is not exactly stupidity, nor
+rascality...."
+
+
+* Bridgehead.
+
+* (2) That their fire gets into his eyes and he forgets that he ought to
+be firing at the enemy.
+
+"It may be treachery," said Prince Andrew, vividly imagining the gray
+overcoats, wounds, the smoke of gunpowder, the sounds of firing, and the
+glory that awaited him.
+
+"Not that either. That puts the court in too bad a light," replied
+Bilibin. "It's not treachery nor rascality nor stupidity: it is just as
+at Ulm... it is..."--he seemed to be trying to find the right
+expression. "C'est... c'est du Mack. Nous sommes mackes (It is... it is
+a bit of Mack. We are Macked)," he concluded, feeling that he had
+produced a good epigram, a fresh one that would be repeated. His
+hitherto puckered brow became smooth as a sign of pleasure, and with a
+slight smile he began to examine his nails.
+
+"Where are you off to?" he said suddenly to Prince Andrew who had risen
+and was going toward his room.
+
+"I am going away."
+
+"Where to?"
+
+"To the army."
+
+"But you meant to stay another two days?"
+
+"But now I am off at once."
+
+And Prince Andrew after giving directions about his departure went to
+his room.
+
+"Do you know, mon cher," said Bilibin following him, "I have been
+thinking about you. Why are you going?"
+
+And in proof of the conclusiveness of his opinion all the wrinkles
+vanished from his face.
+
+Prince Andrew looked inquiringly at him and gave no reply.
+
+"Why are you going? I know you think it your duty to gallop back to the
+army now that it is in danger. I understand that. Mon cher, it is
+heroism!"
+
+"Not at all," said Prince Andrew.
+
+"But as you are a philosopher, be a consistent one, look at the other
+side of the question and you will see that your duty, on the contrary,
+is to take care of yourself. Leave it to those who are no longer fit for
+anything else.... You have not been ordered to return and have not been
+dismissed from here; therefore, you can stay and go with us wherever our
+ill luck takes us. They say we are going to Olmutz, and Olmutz is a very
+decent town. You and I will travel comfortably in my caleche."
+
+"Do stop joking, Bilibin," cried Bolkonski.
+
+"I am speaking sincerely as a friend! Consider! Where and why are you
+going, when you might remain here? You are faced by one of two things,"
+and the skin over his left temple puckered, "either you will not reach
+your regiment before peace is concluded, or you will share defeat and
+disgrace with Kutuzov's whole army."
+
+And Bilibin unwrinkled his temple, feeling that the dilemma was
+insoluble.
+
+"I cannot argue about it," replied Prince Andrew coldly, but he thought:
+"I am going to save the army."
+
+"My dear fellow, you are a hero!" said Bilibin.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+That same night, having taken leave of the Minister of War, Bolkonski
+set off to rejoin the army, not knowing where he would find it and
+fearing to be captured by the French on the way to Krems.
+
+In Brunn everybody attached to the court was packing up, and the heavy
+baggage was already being dispatched to Olmutz. Near Hetzelsdorf Prince
+Andrew struck the high road along which the Russian army was moving with
+great haste and in the greatest disorder. The road was so obstructed
+with carts that it was impossible to get by in a carriage. Prince Andrew
+took a horse and a Cossack from a Cossack commander, and hungry and
+weary, making his way past the baggage wagons, rode in search of the
+commander-in-chief and of his own luggage. Very sinister reports of the
+position of the army reached him as he went along, and the appearance of
+the troops in their disorderly flight confirmed these rumors.
+
+"Cette armee russe que l'or de l'Angleterre a transportee des extremites
+de l'univers, nous allons lui faire eprouver le meme sort--(le sort de
+l'armee d'Ulm)." * He remembered these words in Bonaparte's address to
+his army at the beginning of the campaign, and they awoke in him
+astonishment at the genius of his hero, a feeling of wounded pride, and
+a hope of glory. "And should there be nothing left but to die?" he
+thought. "Well, if need be, I shall do it no worse than others."
+
+
+* "That Russian army which has been brought from the ends of the earth
+by English gold, we shall cause to share the same fate--(the fate of the
+army at Ulm)."
+
+He looked with disdain at the endless confused mass of detachments,
+carts, guns, artillery, and again baggage wagons and vehicles of all
+kinds overtaking one another and blocking the muddy road, three and
+sometimes four abreast. From all sides, behind and before, as far as ear
+could reach, there were the rattle of wheels, the creaking of carts and
+gun carriages, the tramp of horses, the crack of whips, shouts, the
+urging of horses, and the swearing of soldiers, orderlies, and officers.
+All along the sides of the road fallen horses were to be seen, some
+flayed, some not, and broken-down carts beside which solitary soldiers
+sat waiting for something, and again soldiers straggling from their
+companies, crowds of whom set off to the neighboring villages, or
+returned from them dragging sheep, fowls, hay, and bulging sacks. At
+each ascent or descent of the road the crowds were yet denser and the
+din of shouting more incessant. Soldiers floundering knee-deep in mud
+pushed the guns and wagons themselves. Whips cracked, hoofs slipped,
+traces broke, and lungs were strained with shouting. The officers
+directing the march rode backward and forward between the carts. Their
+voices were but feebly heard amid the uproar and one saw by their faces
+that they despaired of the possibility of checking this disorder.
+
+"Here is our dear Orthodox Russian army," thought Bolkonski, recalling
+Bilibin's words.
+
+Wishing to find out where the commander-in-chief was, he rode up to a
+convoy. Directly opposite to him came a strange one-horse vehicle,
+evidently rigged up by soldiers out of any available materials and
+looking like something between a cart, a cabriolet, and a caleche. A
+soldier was driving, and a woman enveloped in shawls sat behind the
+apron under the leather hood of the vehicle. Prince Andrew rode up and
+was just putting his question to a soldier when his attention was
+diverted by the desperate shrieks of the woman in the vehicle. An
+officer in charge of transport was beating the soldier who was driving
+the woman's vehicle for trying to get ahead of others, and the strokes
+of his whip fell on the apron of the equipage. The woman screamed
+piercingly. Seeing Prince Andrew she leaned out from behind the apron
+and, waving her thin arms from under the woolen shawl, cried:
+
+"Mr. Aide-de-camp! Mr. Aide-de-camp!... For heaven's sake... Protect me!
+What will become of us? I am the wife of the doctor of the Seventh
+Chasseurs.... They won't let us pass, we are left behind and have lost
+our people..."
+
+"I'll flatten you into a pancake!" shouted the angry officer to the
+soldier. "Turn back with your slut!"
+
+"Mr. Aide-de-camp! Help me!... What does it all mean?" screamed the
+doctor's wife.
+
+"Kindly let this cart pass. Don't you see it's a woman?" said Prince
+Andrew riding up to the officer.
+
+The officer glanced at him, and without replying turned again to the
+soldier. "I'll teach you to push on!... Back!"
+
+"Let them pass, I tell you!" repeated Prince Andrew, compressing his
+lips.
+
+"And who are you?" cried the officer, turning on him with tipsy rage,
+"who are you? Are you in command here? Eh? I am commander here, not you!
+Go back or I'll flatten you into a pancake," repeated he. This
+expression evidently pleased him.
+
+"That was a nice snub for the little aide-de-camp," came a voice from
+behind.
+
+Prince Andrew saw that the officer was in that state of senseless, tipsy
+rage when a man does not know what he is saying. He saw that his
+championship of the doctor's wife in her queer trap might expose him to
+what he dreaded more than anything in the world--to ridicule; but his
+instinct urged him on. Before the officer finished his sentence Prince
+Andrew, his face distorted with fury, rode up to him and raised his
+riding whip.
+
+"Kind...ly let--them--pass!"
+
+The officer flourished his arm and hastily rode away.
+
+"It's all the fault of these fellows on the staff that there's this
+disorder," he muttered. "Do as you like."
+
+Prince Andrew without lifting his eyes rode hastily away from the
+doctor's wife, who was calling him her deliverer, and recalling with a
+sense of disgust the minutest details of this humiliating scene he
+galloped on to the village where he was told that the commander-in-chief
+was.
+
+On reaching the village he dismounted and went to the nearest house,
+intending to rest if but for a moment, eat something, and try to sort
+out the stinging and tormenting thoughts that confused his mind. "This
+is a mob of scoundrels and not an army," he was thinking as he went up
+to the window of the first house, when a familiar voice called him by
+name.
+
+He turned round. Nesvitski's handsome face looked out of the little
+window. Nesvitski, moving his moist lips as he chewed something, and
+flourishing his arm, called him to enter.
+
+"Bolkonski! Bolkonski!... Don't you hear? Eh? Come quick..." he shouted.
+
+Entering the house, Prince Andrew saw Nesvitski and another adjutant
+having something to eat. They hastily turned round to him asking if he
+had any news. On their familiar faces he read agitation and alarm. This
+was particularly noticeable on Nesvitski's usually laughing countenance.
+
+"Where is the commander-in-chief?" asked Bolkonski.
+
+"Here, in that house," answered the adjutant.
+
+"Well, is it true that it's peace and capitulation?" asked Nesvitski.
+
+"I was going to ask you. I know nothing except that it was all I could
+do to get here."
+
+"And we, my dear boy! It's terrible! I was wrong to laugh at Mack, we're
+getting it still worse," said Nesvitski. "But sit down and have
+something to eat."
+
+"You won't be able to find either your baggage or anything else now,
+Prince. And God only knows where your man Peter is," said the other
+adjutant.
+
+"Where are headquarters?"
+
+"We are to spend the night in Znaim."
+
+"Well, I have got all I need into packs for two horses," said Nesvitski.
+"They've made up splendid packs for me--fit to cross the Bohemian
+mountains with. It's a bad lookout, old fellow! But what's the matter
+with you? You must be ill to shiver like that," he added, noticing that
+Prince Andrew winced as at an electric shock.
+
+"It's nothing," replied Prince Andrew.
+
+He had just remembered his recent encounter with the doctor's wife and
+the convoy officer.
+
+"What is the commander-in-chief doing here?" he asked.
+
+"I can't make out at all," said Nesvitski.
+
+"Well, all I can make out is that everything is abominable, abominable,
+quite abominable!" said Prince Andrew, and he went off to the house
+where the commander-in-chief was.
+
+Passing by Kutuzov's carriage and the exhausted saddle horses of his
+suite, with their Cossacks who were talking loudly together, Prince
+Andrew entered the passage. Kutuzov himself, he was told, was in the
+house with Prince Bagration and Weyrother. Weyrother was the Austrian
+general who had succeeded Schmidt. In the passage little Kozlovski was
+squatting on his heels in front of a clerk. The clerk, with cuffs turned
+up, was hastily writing at a tub turned bottom upwards. Kozlovski's face
+looked worn--he too had evidently not slept all night. He glanced at
+Prince Andrew and did not even nod to him.
+
+"Second line... have you written it?" he continued dictating to the
+clerk. "The Kiev Grenadiers, Podolian..."
+
+"One can't write so fast, your honor," said the clerk, glancing angrily
+and disrespectfully at Kozlovski.
+
+Through the door came the sounds of Kutuzov's voice, excited and
+dissatisfied, interrupted by another, an unfamiliar voice. From the
+sound of these voices, the inattentive way Kozlovski looked at him, the
+disrespectful manner of the exhausted clerk, the fact that the clerk and
+Kozlovski were squatting on the floor by a tub so near to the commander
+in chief, and from the noisy laughter of the Cossacks holding the horses
+near the window, Prince Andrew felt that something important and
+disastrous was about to happen.
+
+He turned to Kozlovski with urgent questions.
+
+"Immediately, Prince," said Kozlovski. "Dispositions for Bagration."
+
+"What about capitulation?"
+
+"Nothing of the sort. Orders are issued for a battle."
+
+Prince Andrew moved toward the door from whence voices were heard. Just
+as he was going to open it the sounds ceased, the door opened, and
+Kutuzov with his eagle nose and puffy face appeared in the doorway.
+Prince Andrew stood right in front of Kutuzov but the expression of the
+commander in chief's one sound eye showed him to be so preoccupied with
+thoughts and anxieties as to be oblivious of his presence. He looked
+straight at his adjutant's face without recognizing him.
+
+"Well, have you finished?" said he to Kozlovski.
+
+"One moment, your excellency."
+
+Bagration, a gaunt middle-aged man of medium height with a firm,
+impassive face of Oriental type, came out after the commander-in-chief.
+
+"I have the honor to present myself," repeated Prince Andrew rather
+loudly, handing Kutuzov an envelope.
+
+"Ah, from Vienna? Very good. Later, later!"
+
+Kutuzov went out into the porch with Bagration.
+
+"Well, good-by, Prince," said he to Bagration. "My blessing, and may
+Christ be with you in your great endeavor!"
+
+His face suddenly softened and tears came into his eyes. With his left
+hand he drew Bagration toward him, and with his right, on which he wore
+a ring, he made the sign of the cross over him with a gesture evidently
+habitual, offering his puffy cheek, but Bagration kissed him on the neck
+instead.
+
+"Christ be with you!" Kutuzov repeated and went toward his carriage.
+"Get in with me," said he to Bolkonski.
+
+"Your excellency, I should like to be of use here. Allow me to remain
+with Prince Bagration's detachment."
+
+"Get in," said Kutuzov, and noticing that Bolkonski still delayed, he
+added: "I need good officers myself, need them myself!"
+
+They got into the carriage and drove for a few minutes in silence.
+
+"There is still much, much before us," he said, as if with an old man's
+penetration he understood all that was passing in Bolkonski's mind. "If
+a tenth part of his detachment returns I shall thank God," he added as
+if speaking to himself.
+
+Prince Andrew glanced at Kutuzov's face only a foot distant from him and
+involuntarily noticed the carefully washed seams of the scar near his
+temple, where an Ismail bullet had pierced his skull, and the empty eye
+socket. "Yes, he has a right to speak so calmly of those men's death,"
+thought Bolkonski.
+
+"That is why I beg to be sent to that detachment," he said.
+
+Kutuzov did not reply. He seemed to have forgotten what he had been
+saying, and sat plunged in thought. Five minutes later, gently swaying
+on the soft springs of the carriage, he turned to Prince Andrew. There
+was not a trace of agitation on his face. With delicate irony he
+questioned Prince Andrew about the details of his interview with the
+Emperor, about the remarks he had heard at court concerning the Krems
+affair, and about some ladies they both knew.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+On November 1 Kutuzov had received, through a spy, news that the army he
+commanded was in an almost hopeless position. The spy reported that the
+French, after crossing the bridge at Vienna, were advancing in immense
+force upon Kutuzov's line of communication with the troops that were
+arriving from Russia. If Kutuzov decided to remain at Krems, Napoleon's
+army of one hundred and fifty thousand men would cut him off completely
+and surround his exhausted army of forty thousand, and he would find
+himself in the position of Mack at Ulm. If Kutuzov decided to abandon
+the road connecting him with the troops arriving from Russia, he would
+have to march with no road into unknown parts of the Bohemian mountains,
+defending himself against superior forces of the enemy and abandoning
+all hope of a junction with Buxhowden. If Kutuzov decided to retreat
+along the road from Krems to Olmutz, to unite with the troops arriving
+from Russia, he risked being forestalled on that road by the French who
+had crossed the Vienna bridge, and encumbered by his baggage and
+transport, having to accept battle on the march against an enemy three
+times as strong, who would hem him in from two sides.
+
+Kutuzov chose this latter course.
+
+The French, the spy reported, having crossed the Vienna bridge, were
+advancing by forced marches toward Znaim, which lay sixty-six miles off
+on the line of Kutuzov's retreat. If he reached Znaim before the French,
+there would be great hope of saving the army; to let the French
+forestall him at Znaim meant the exposure of his whole army to a
+disgrace such as that of Ulm, or to utter destruction. But to forestall
+the French with his whole army was impossible. The road for the French
+from Vienna to Znaim was shorter and better than the road for the
+Russians from Krems to Znaim.
+
+The night he received the news, Kutuzov sent Bagration's vanguard, four
+thousand strong, to the right across the hills from the Krems-Znaim to
+the Vienna-Znaim road. Bagration was to make this march without resting,
+and to halt facing Vienna with Znaim to his rear, and if he succeeded in
+forestalling the French he was to delay them as long as possible.
+Kutuzov himself with all his transport took the road to Znaim.
+
+Marching thirty miles that stormy night across roadless hills, with his
+hungry, ill-shod soldiers, and losing a third of his men as stragglers
+by the way, Bagration came out on the Vienna-Znaim road at Hollabrunn a
+few hours ahead of the French who were approaching Hollabrunn from
+Vienna. Kutuzov with his transport had still to march for some days
+before he could reach Znaim. Hence Bagration with his four thousand
+hungry, exhausted men would have to detain for days the whole enemy army
+that came upon him at Hollabrunn, which was clearly impossible. But a
+freak of fate made the impossible possible. The success of the trick
+that had placed the Vienna bridge in the hands of the French without a
+fight led Murat to try to deceive Kutuzov in a similar way. Meeting
+Bagration's weak detachment on the Znaim road he supposed it to be
+Kutuzov's whole army. To be able to crush it absolutely he awaited the
+arrival of the rest of the troops who were on their way from Vienna, and
+with this object offered a three days' truce on condition that both
+armies should remain in position without moving. Murat declared that
+negotiations for peace were already proceeding, and that he therefore
+offered this truce to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. Count Nostitz, the
+Austrian general occupying the advanced posts, believed Murat's emissary
+and retired, leaving Bagration's division exposed. Another emissary rode
+to the Russian line to announce the peace negotiations and to offer the
+Russian army the three days' truce. Bagration replied that he was not
+authorized either to accept or refuse a truce and sent his adjutant to
+Kutuzov to report the offer he had received.
+
+A truce was Kutuzov's sole chance of gaining time, giving Bagration's
+exhausted troops some rest, and letting the transport and heavy convoys
+(whose movements were concealed from the French) advance if but one
+stage nearer Znaim. The offer of a truce gave the only, and a quite
+unexpected, chance of saving the army. On receiving the news he
+immediately dispatched Adjutant General Wintzingerode, who was in
+attendance on him, to the enemy camp. Wintzingerode was not merely to
+agree to the truce but also to offer terms of capitulation, and
+meanwhile Kutuzov sent his adjutants back to hasten to the utmost the
+movements of the baggage trains of the entire army along the Krems-Znaim
+road. Bagration's exhausted and hungry detachment, which alone covered
+this movement of the transport and of the whole army, had to remain
+stationary in face of an enemy eight times as strong as itself.
+
+Kutuzov's expectations that the proposals of capitulation (which were in
+no way binding) might give time for part of the transport to pass, and
+also that Murat's mistake would very soon be discovered, proved correct.
+As soon as Bonaparte (who was at Schonbrunn, sixteen miles from
+Hollabrunn) received Murat's dispatch with the proposal of a truce and a
+capitulation, he detected a ruse and wrote the following letter to
+Murat:
+
+Schonbrunn, 25th Brumaire, 1805,
+
+at eight o'clock in the morning
+
+To PRINCE MURAT,
+
+I cannot find words to express to you my displeasure. You command only
+my advance guard, and have no right to arrange an armistice without my
+order. You are causing me to lose the fruits of a campaign. Break the
+armistice immediately and march on the enemy. Inform him that the
+general who signed that capitulation had no right to do so, and that no
+one but the Emperor of Russia has that right.
+
+If, however, the Emperor of Russia ratifies that convention, I will
+ratify it; but it is only a trick. March on, destroy the Russian
+army.... You are in a position to seize its baggage and artillery.
+
+The Russian Emperor's aide-de-camp is an impostor. Officers are nothing
+when they have no powers; this one had none.... The Austrians let
+themselves be tricked at the crossing of the Vienna bridge, you are
+letting yourself be tricked by an aide-de-camp of the Emperor.
+
+NAPOLEON
+
+Bonaparte's adjutant rode full gallop with this menacing letter to
+Murat. Bonaparte himself, not trusting to his generals, moved with all
+the Guards to the field of battle, afraid of letting a ready victim
+escape, and Bagration's four thousand men merrily lighted campfires,
+dried and warmed themselves, cooked their porridge for the first time
+for three days, and not one of them knew or imagined what was in store
+for him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+Between three and four o'clock in the afternoon Prince Andrew, who had
+persisted in his request to Kutuzov, arrived at Grunth and reported
+himself to Bagration. Bonaparte's adjutant had not yet reached Murat's
+detachment and the battle had not yet begun. In Bagration's detachment
+no one knew anything of the general position of affairs. They talked of
+peace but did not believe in its possibility; others talked of a battle
+but also disbelieved in the nearness of an engagement. Bagration,
+knowing Bolkonski to be a favorite and trusted adjutant, received him
+with distinction and special marks of favor, explaining to him that
+there would probably be an engagement that day or the next, and giving
+him full liberty to remain with him during the battle or to join the
+rearguard and have an eye on the order of retreat, "which is also very
+important."
+
+"However, there will hardly be an engagement today," said Bagration as
+if to reassure Prince Andrew.
+
+"If he is one of the ordinary little staff dandies sent to earn a medal
+he can get his reward just as well in the rearguard, but if he wishes to
+stay with me, let him... he'll be of use here if he's a brave officer,"
+thought Bagration. Prince Andrew, without replying, asked the prince's
+permission to ride round the position to see the disposition of the
+forces, so as to know his bearings should he be sent to execute an
+order. The officer on duty, a handsome, elegantly dressed man with a
+diamond ring on his forefinger, who was fond of speaking French though
+he spoke it badly, offered to conduct Prince Andrew.
+
+On all sides they saw rain-soaked officers with dejected faces who
+seemed to be seeking something, and soldiers dragging doors, benches,
+and fencing from the village.
+
+"There now, Prince! We can't stop those fellows," said the staff officer
+pointing to the soldiers. "The officers don't keep them in hand. And
+there," he pointed to a sutler's tent, "they crowd in and sit. This
+morning I turned them all out and now look, it's full again. I must go
+there, Prince, and scare them a bit. It won't take a moment."
+
+"Yes, let's go in and I will get myself a roll and some cheese," said
+Prince Andrew who had not yet had time to eat anything.
+
+"Why didn't you mention it, Prince? I would have offered you something."
+
+They dismounted and entered the tent. Several officers, with flushed and
+weary faces, were sitting at the table eating and drinking.
+
+"Now what does this mean, gentlemen?" said the staff officer, in the
+reproachful tone of a man who has repeated the same thing more than
+once. "You know it won't do to leave your posts like this. The prince
+gave orders that no one should leave his post. Now you, Captain," and he
+turned to a thin, dirty little artillery officer who without his boots
+(he had given them to the canteen keeper to dry), in only his stockings,
+rose when they entered, smiling not altogether comfortably.
+
+"Well, aren't you ashamed of yourself, Captain Tushin?" he continued.
+"One would think that as an artillery officer you would set a good
+example, yet here you are without your boots! The alarm will be sounded
+and you'll be in a pretty position without your boots!" (The staff
+officer smiled.) "Kindly return to your posts, gentlemen, all of you,
+all!" he added in a tone of command.
+
+Prince Andrew smiled involuntarily as he looked at the artillery officer
+Tushin, who silent and smiling, shifting from one stockinged foot to the
+other, glanced inquiringly with his large, intelligent, kindly eyes from
+Prince Andrew to the staff officer.
+
+"The soldiers say it feels easier without boots," said Captain Tushin
+smiling shyly in his uncomfortable position, evidently wishing to adopt
+a jocular tone. But before he had finished he felt that his jest was
+unacceptable and had not come off. He grew confused.
+
+"Kindly return to your posts," said the staff officer trying to preserve
+his gravity.
+
+Prince Andrew glanced again at the artillery officer's small figure.
+There was something peculiar about it, quite unsoldierly, rather comic,
+but extremely attractive.
+
+The staff officer and Prince Andrew mounted their horses and rode on.
+
+Having ridden beyond the village, continually meeting and overtaking
+soldiers and officers of various regiments, they saw on their left some
+entrenchments being thrown up, the freshly dug clay of which showed up
+red. Several battalions of soldiers, in their shirt sleeves despite the
+cold wind, swarmed in these earthworks like a host of white ants;
+spadefuls of red clay were continually being thrown up from behind the
+bank by unseen hands. Prince Andrew and the officer rode up, looked at
+the entrenchment, and went on again. Just behind it they came upon some
+dozens of soldiers, continually replaced by others, who ran from the
+entrenchment. They had to hold their noses and put their horses to a
+trot to escape from the poisoned atmosphere of these latrines.
+
+"Voila l'agrement des camps, monsieur le Prince," * said the staff
+officer.
+
+
+* "This is a pleasure one gets in camp, Prince."
+
+They rode up the opposite hill. From there the French could already be
+seen. Prince Andrew stopped and began examining the position.
+
+"That's our battery," said the staff officer indicating the highest
+point. "It's in charge of the queer fellow we saw without his boots. You
+can see everything from there; let's go there, Prince."
+
+"Thank you very much, I will go on alone," said Prince Andrew, wishing
+to rid himself of this staff officer's company, "please don't trouble
+yourself further."
+
+The staff officer remained behind and Prince Andrew rode on alone.
+
+The farther forward and nearer the enemy he went, the more orderly and
+cheerful were the troops. The greatest disorder and depression had been
+in the baggage train he had passed that morning on the Znaim road seven
+miles away from the French. At Grunth also some apprehension and alarm
+could be felt, but the nearer Prince Andrew came to the French lines the
+more confident was the appearance of our troops. The soldiers in their
+greatcoats were ranged in lines, the sergeants major and company
+officers were counting the men, poking the last man in each section in
+the ribs and telling him to hold his hand up. Soldiers scattered over
+the whole place were dragging logs and brushwood and were building
+shelters with merry chatter and laughter; around the fires sat others,
+dressed and undressed, drying their shirts and leg bands or mending
+boots or overcoats and crowding round the boilers and porridge cookers.
+In one company dinner was ready, and the soldiers were gazing eagerly at
+the steaming boiler, waiting till the sample, which a quartermaster
+sergeant was carrying in a wooden bowl to an officer who sat on a log
+before his shelter, had been tasted.
+
+Another company, a lucky one for not all the companies had vodka,
+crowded round a pockmarked, broad-shouldered sergeant major who, tilting
+a keg, filled one after another the canteen lids held out to him. The
+soldiers lifted the canteen lids to their lips with reverential faces,
+emptied them, rolling the vodka in their mouths, and walked away from
+the sergeant major with brightened expressions, licking their lips and
+wiping them on the sleeves of their greatcoats. All their faces were as
+serene as if all this were happening at home awaiting peaceful
+encampment, and not within sight of the enemy before an action in which
+at least half of them would be left on the field. After passing a
+chasseur regiment and in the lines of the Kiev grenadiers--fine fellows
+busy with similar peaceful affairs--near the shelter of the regimental
+commander, higher than and different from the others, Prince Andrew came
+out in front of a platoon of grenadiers before whom lay a naked man. Two
+soldiers held him while two others were flourishing their switches and
+striking him regularly on his bare back. The man shrieked unnaturally. A
+stout major was pacing up and down the line, and regardless of the
+screams kept repeating:
+
+"It's a shame for a soldier to steal; a soldier must be honest,
+honorable, and brave, but if he robs his fellows there is no honor in
+him, he's a scoundrel. Go on! Go on!"
+
+So the swishing sound of the strokes, and the desperate but unnatural
+screams, continued.
+
+"Go on, go on!" said the major.
+
+A young officer with a bewildered and pained expression on his face
+stepped away from the man and looked round inquiringly at the adjutant
+as he rode by.
+
+Prince Andrew, having reached the front line, rode along it. Our front
+line and that of the enemy were far apart on the right and left flanks,
+but in the center where the men with a flag of truce had passed that
+morning, the lines were so near together that the men could see one
+another's faces and speak to one another. Besides the soldiers who
+formed the picket line on either side, there were many curious onlookers
+who, jesting and laughing, stared at their strange foreign enemies.
+
+Since early morning--despite an injunction not to approach the picket
+line--the officers had been unable to keep sight-seers away. The
+soldiers forming the picket line, like showmen exhibiting a curiosity,
+no longer looked at the French but paid attention to the sight-seers and
+grew weary waiting to be relieved. Prince Andrew halted to have a look
+at the French.
+
+"Look! Look there!" one soldier was saying to another, pointing to a
+Russian musketeer who had gone up to the picket line with an officer and
+was rapidly and excitedly talking to a French grenadier. "Hark to him
+jabbering! Fine, isn't it? It's all the Frenchy can do to keep up with
+him. There now, Sidorov!"
+
+"Wait a bit and listen. It's fine!" answered Sidorov, who was considered
+an adept at French.
+
+The soldier to whom the laughers referred was Dolokhov. Prince Andrew
+recognized him and stopped to listen to what he was saying. Dolokhov had
+come from the left flank where their regiment was stationed, with his
+captain.
+
+"Now then, go on, go on!" incited the officer, bending forward and
+trying not to lose a word of the speech which was incomprehensible to
+him. "More, please: more! What's he saying?"
+
+Dolokhov did not answer the captain; he had been drawn into a hot
+dispute with the French grenadier. They were naturally talking about the
+campaign. The Frenchman, confusing the Austrians with the Russians, was
+trying to prove that the Russians had surrendered and had fled all the
+way from Ulm, while Dolokhov maintained that the Russians had not
+surrendered but had beaten the French.
+
+"We have orders to drive you off here, and we shall drive you off," said
+Dolokhov.
+
+"Only take care you and your Cossacks are not all captured!" said the
+French grenadier.
+
+The French onlookers and listeners laughed.
+
+"We'll make you dance as we did under Suvorov...," * said Dolokhov.
+
+
+* "On vous fera danser."
+
+"Qu' est-ce qu'il chante?" * asked a Frenchman.
+
+
+* "What's he singing about?"
+
+"It's ancient history," said another, guessing that it referred to a
+former war. "The Emperor will teach your Suvara as he has taught the
+others..."
+
+"Bonaparte..." began Dolokhov, but the Frenchman interrupted him.
+
+"Not Bonaparte. He is the Emperor! Sacre nom...!" cried he angrily.
+
+"The devil skin your Emperor."
+
+And Dolokhov swore at him in coarse soldier's Russian and shouldering
+his musket walked away.
+
+"Let us go, Ivan Lukich," he said to the captain.
+
+"Ah, that's the way to talk French," said the picket soldiers. "Now,
+Sidorov, you have a try!"
+
+Sidorov, turning to the French, winked, and began to jabber meaningless
+sounds very fast: "Kari, mala, tafa, safi, muter, Kaska," he said,
+trying to give an expressive intonation to his voice.
+
+"Ho! ho! ho! Ha! ha! ha! ha! Ouh! ouh!" came peals of such healthy and
+good-humored laughter from the soldiers that it infected the French
+involuntarily, so much so that the only thing left to do seemed to be to
+unload the muskets, explode the ammunition, and all return home as
+quickly as possible.
+
+But the guns remained loaded, the loopholes in blockhouses and
+entrenchments looked out just as menacingly, and the unlimbered cannon
+confronted one another as before.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+Having ridden round the whole line from right flank to left, Prince
+Andrew made his way up to the battery from which the staff officer had
+told him the whole field could be seen. Here he dismounted, and stopped
+beside the farthest of the four unlimbered cannon. Before the guns an
+artillery sentry was pacing up and down; he stood at attention when the
+officer arrived, but at a sign resumed his measured, monotonous pacing.
+Behind the guns were their limbers and still farther back picket ropes
+and artillerymen's bonfires. To the left, not far from the farthest
+cannon, was a small, newly constructed wattle shed from which came the
+sound of officers' voices in eager conversation.
+
+It was true that a view over nearly the whole Russian position and the
+greater part of the enemy's opened out from this battery. Just facing
+it, on the crest of the opposite hill, the village of Schon Grabern
+could be seen, and in three places to left and right the French troops
+amid the smoke of their campfires, the greater part of whom were
+evidently in the village itself and behind the hill. To the left from
+that village, amid the smoke, was something resembling a battery, but it
+was impossible to see it clearly with the naked eye. Our right flank was
+posted on a rather steep incline which dominated the French position.
+Our infantry were stationed there, and at the farthest point the
+dragoons. In the center, where Tushin's battery stood and from which
+Prince Andrew was surveying the position, was the easiest and most
+direct descent and ascent to the brook separating us from Schon Grabern.
+On the left our troops were close to a copse, in which smoked the
+bonfires of our infantry who were felling wood. The French line was
+wider than ours, and it was plain that they could easily outflank us on
+both sides. Behind our position was a steep and deep dip, making it
+difficult for artillery and cavalry to retire. Prince Andrew took out
+his notebook and, leaning on the cannon, sketched a plan of the
+position. He made some notes on two points, intending to mention them to
+Bagration. His idea was, first, to concentrate all the artillery in the
+center, and secondly, to withdraw the cavalry to the other side of the
+dip. Prince Andrew, being always near the commander in chief, closely
+following the mass movements and general orders, and constantly studying
+historical accounts of battles, involuntarily pictured to himself the
+course of events in the forthcoming action in broad outline. He imagined
+only important possibilities: "If the enemy attacks the right flank," he
+said to himself, "the Kiev grenadiers and the Podolsk chasseurs must
+hold their position till reserves from the center come up. In that case
+the dragoons could successfully make a flank counterattack. If they
+attack our center we, having the center battery on this high ground,
+shall withdraw the left flank under its cover, and retreat to the dip by
+echelons." So he reasoned.... All the time he had been beside the gun,
+he had heard the voices of the officers distinctly, but as often happens
+had not understood a word of what they were saying. Suddenly, however,
+he was struck by a voice coming from the shed, and its tone was so
+sincere that he could not but listen.
+
+"No, friend," said a pleasant and, as it seemed to Prince Andrew, a
+familiar voice, "what I say is that if it were possible to know what is
+beyond death, none of us would be afraid of it. That's so, friend."
+
+Another, a younger voice, interrupted him: "Afraid or not, you can't
+escape it anyhow."
+
+"All the same, one is afraid! Oh, you clever people," said a third manly
+voice interrupting them both. "Of course you artillery men are very
+wise, because you can take everything along with you--vodka and snacks."
+
+And the owner of the manly voice, evidently an infantry officer,
+laughed.
+
+"Yes, one is afraid," continued the first speaker, he of the familiar
+voice. "One is afraid of the unknown, that's what it is. Whatever we may
+say about the soul going to the sky... we know there is no sky but only
+an atmosphere."
+
+The manly voice again interrupted the artillery officer.
+
+"Well, stand us some of your herb vodka, Tushin," it said.
+
+"Why," thought Prince Andrew, "that's the captain who stood up in the
+sutler's hut without his boots." He recognized the agreeable,
+philosophizing voice with pleasure.
+
+"Some herb vodka? Certainly!" said Tushin. "But still, to conceive a
+future life..."
+
+He did not finish. Just then there was a whistle in the air; nearer and
+nearer, faster and louder, louder and faster, a cannon ball, as if it
+had not finished saying what was necessary, thudded into the ground near
+the shed with super human force, throwing up a mass of earth. The ground
+seemed to groan at the terrible impact.
+
+And immediately Tushin, with a short pipe in the corner of his mouth and
+his kind, intelligent face rather pale, rushed out of the shed followed
+by the owner of the manly voice, a dashing infantry officer who hurried
+off to his company, buttoning up his coat as he ran.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+Mounting his horse again Prince Andrew lingered with the battery,
+looking at the puff from the gun that had sent the ball. His eyes ran
+rapidly over the wide space, but he only saw that the hitherto
+motionless masses of the French now swayed and that there really was a
+battery to their left. The smoke above it had not yet dispersed. Two
+mounted Frenchmen, probably adjutants, were galloping up the hill. A
+small but distinctly visible enemy column was moving down the hill,
+probably to strengthen the front line. The smoke of the first shot had
+not yet dispersed before another puff appeared, followed by a report.
+The battle had begun! Prince Andrew turned his horse and galloped back
+to Grunth to find Prince Bagration. He heard the cannonade behind him
+growing louder and more frequent. Evidently our guns had begun to reply.
+From the bottom of the slope, where the parleys had taken place, came
+the report of musketry.
+
+Lemarrois had just arrived at a gallop with Bonaparte's stern letter,
+and Murat, humiliated and anxious to expiate his fault, had at once
+moved his forces to attack the center and outflank both the Russian
+wings, hoping before evening and before the arrival of the Emperor to
+crush the contemptible detachment that stood before him.
+
+"It has begun. Here it is!" thought Prince Andrew, feeling the blood
+rush to his heart. "But where and how will my Toulon present itself?"
+
+Passing between the companies that had been eating porridge and drinking
+vodka a quarter of an hour before, he saw everywhere the same rapid
+movement of soldiers forming ranks and getting their muskets ready, and
+on all their faces he recognized the same eagerness that filled his
+heart. "It has begun! Here it is, dreadful but enjoyable!" was what the
+face of each soldier and each officer seemed to say.
+
+Before he had reached the embankments that were being thrown up, he saw,
+in the light of the dull autumn evening, mounted men coming toward him.
+The foremost, wearing a Cossack cloak and lambskin cap and riding a
+white horse, was Prince Bagration. Prince Andrew stopped, waiting for
+him to come up; Prince Bagration reined in his horse and recognizing
+Prince Andrew nodded to him. He still looked ahead while Prince Andrew
+told him what he had seen.
+
+The feeling, "It has begun! Here it is!" was seen even on Prince
+Bagration's hard brown face with its half-closed, dull, sleepy eyes.
+Prince Andrew gazed with anxious curiosity at that impassive face and
+wished he could tell what, if anything, this man was thinking and
+feeling at that moment. "Is there anything at all behind that impassive
+face?" Prince Andrew asked himself as he looked. Prince Bagration bent
+his head in sign of agreement with what Prince Andrew told him, and
+said, "Very good!" in a tone that seemed to imply that everything that
+took place and was reported to him was exactly what he had foreseen.
+Prince Andrew, out of breath with his rapid ride, spoke quickly. Prince
+Bagration, uttering his words with an Oriental accent, spoke
+particularly slowly, as if to impress the fact that there was no need to
+hurry. However, he put his horse to a trot in the direction of Tushin's
+battery. Prince Andrew followed with the suite. Behind Prince Bagration
+rode an officer of the suite, the prince's personal adjutant, Zherkov,
+an orderly officer, the staff officer on duty, riding a fine bobtailed
+horse, and a civilian--an accountant who had asked permission to be
+present at the battle out of curiosity. The accountant, a stout, full-
+faced man, looked around him with a naive smile of satisfaction and
+presented a strange appearance among the hussars, Cossacks, and
+adjutants, in his camlet coat, as he jolted on his horse with a convoy
+officer's saddle.
+
+"He wants to see a battle," said Zherkov to Bolkonski, pointing to the
+accountant, "but he feels a pain in the pit of his stomach already."
+
+"Oh, leave off!" said the accountant with a beaming but rather cunning
+smile, as if flattered at being made the subject of Zherkov's joke, and
+purposely trying to appear stupider than he really was.
+
+"It is very strange, mon Monsieur Prince," said the staff officer. (He
+remembered that in French there is some peculiar way of addressing a
+prince, but could not get it quite right.)
+
+By this time they were all approaching Tushin's battery, and a ball
+struck the ground in front of them.
+
+"What's that that has fallen?" asked the accountant with a naive smile.
+
+"A French pancake," answered Zherkov.
+
+"So that's what they hit with?" asked the accountant. "How awful!"
+
+He seemed to swell with satisfaction. He had hardly finished speaking
+when they again heard an unexpectedly violent whistling which suddenly
+ended with a thud into something soft... f-f-flop! and a Cossack, riding
+a little to their right and behind the accountant, crashed to earth with
+his horse. Zherkov and the staff officer bent over their saddles and
+turned their horses away. The accountant stopped, facing the Cossack,
+and examined him with attentive curiosity. The Cossack was dead, but the
+horse still struggled.
+
+Prince Bagration screwed up his eyes, looked round, and, seeing the
+cause of the confusion, turned away with indifference, as if to say, "Is
+it worth while noticing trifles?" He reined in his horse with the care
+of a skillful rider and, slightly bending over, disengaged his saber
+which had caught in his cloak. It was an old-fashioned saber of a kind
+no longer in general use. Prince Andrew remembered the story of Suvorov
+giving his saber to Bagration in Italy, and the recollection was
+particularly pleasant at that moment. They had reached the battery at
+which Prince Andrew had been when he examined the battlefield.
+
+"Whose company?" asked Prince Bagration of an artilleryman standing by
+the ammunition wagon.
+
+He asked, "Whose company?" but he really meant, "Are you frightened
+here?" and the artilleryman understood him.
+
+"Captain Tushin's, your excellency!" shouted the red-haired, freckled
+gunner in a merry voice, standing to attention.
+
+"Yes, yes," muttered Bagration as if considering something, and he rode
+past the limbers to the farthest cannon.
+
+As he approached, a ringing shot issued from it deafening him and his
+suite, and in the smoke that suddenly surrounded the gun they could see
+the gunners who had seized it straining to roll it quickly back to its
+former position. A huge, broad-shouldered gunner, Number One, holding a
+mop, his legs far apart, sprang to the wheel; while Number Two with a
+trembling hand placed a charge in the cannon's mouth. The short, round-
+shouldered Captain Tushin, stumbling over the tail of the gun carriage,
+moved forward and, not noticing the general, looked out shading his eyes
+with his small hand.
+
+"Lift it two lines more and it will be just right," cried he in a feeble
+voice to which he tried to impart a dashing note, ill-suited to his weak
+figure. "Number Two!" he squeaked. "Fire, Medvedev!"
+
+Bagration called to him, and Tushin, raising three fingers to his cap
+with a bashful and awkward gesture not at all like a military salute but
+like a priest's benediction, approached the general. Though Tushin's
+guns had been intended to cannonade the valley, he was firing incendiary
+balls at the village of Schon Grabern visible just opposite, in front of
+which large masses of French were advancing.
+
+No one had given Tushin orders where and at what to fire, but after
+consulting his sergeant major, Zakharchenko, for whom he had great
+respect, he had decided that it would be a good thing to set fire to the
+village. "Very good!" said Bagration in reply to the officer's report,
+and began deliberately to examine the whole battlefield extended before
+him. The French had advanced nearest on our right. Below the height on
+which the Kiev regiment was stationed, in the hollow where the rivulet
+flowed, the soul-stirring rolling and crackling of musketry was heard,
+and much farther to the right beyond the dragoons, the officer of the
+suite pointed out to Bagration a French column that was outflanking us.
+To the left the horizon bounded by the adjacent wood. Prince Bagration
+ordered two battalions from the center to be sent to reinforce the right
+flank. The officer of the suite ventured to remark to the prince that if
+these battalions went away, the guns would remain without support.
+Prince Bagration turned to the officer and with his dull eyes looked at
+him in silence. It seemed to Prince Andrew that the officer's remark was
+just and that really no answer could be made to it. But at that moment
+an adjutant galloped up with a message from the commander of the
+regiment in the hollow and news that immense masses of the French were
+coming down upon them and that his regiment was in disorder and was
+retreating upon the Kiev grenadiers. Prince Bagration bowed his head in
+sign of assent and approval. He rode off at a walk to the right and sent
+an adjutant to the dragoons with orders to attack the French. But this
+adjutant returned half an hour later with the news that the commander of
+the dragoons had already retreated beyond the dip in the ground, as a
+heavy fire had been opened on him and he was losing men uselessly, and
+so had hastened to throw some sharpshooters into the wood.
+
+"Very good!" said Bagration.
+
+As he was leaving the battery, firing was heard on the left also, and as
+it was too far to the left flank for him to have time to go there
+himself, Prince Bagration sent Zherkov to tell the general in command
+(the one who had paraded his regiment before Kutuzov at Braunau) that he
+must retreat as quickly as possible behind the hollow in the rear, as
+the right flank would probably not be able to withstand the enemy's
+attack very long. About Tushin and the battalion that had been in
+support of his battery all was forgotten. Prince Andrew listened
+attentively to Bagration's colloquies with the commanding officers and
+the orders he gave them and, to his surprise, found that no orders were
+really given, but that Prince Bagration tried to make it appear that
+everything done by necessity, by accident, or by the will of subordinate
+commanders was done, if not by his direct command, at least in accord
+with his intentions. Prince Andrew noticed, however, that though what
+happened was due to chance and was independent of the commander's will,
+owing to the tact Bagration showed, his presence was very valuable.
+Officers who approached him with disturbed countenances became calm;
+soldiers and officers greeted him gaily, grew more cheerful in his
+presence, and were evidently anxious to display their courage before
+him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+Prince Bagration, having reached the highest point of our right flank,
+began riding downhill to where the roll of musketry was heard but where
+on account of the smoke nothing could be seen. The nearer they got to
+the hollow the less they could see but the more they felt the nearness
+of the actual battlefield. They began to meet wounded men. One with a
+bleeding head and no cap was being dragged along by two soldiers who
+supported him under the arms. There was a gurgle in his throat and he
+was spitting blood. A bullet had evidently hit him in the throat or
+mouth. Another was walking sturdily by himself but without his musket,
+groaning aloud and swinging his arm which had just been hurt, while
+blood from it was streaming over his greatcoat as from a bottle. He had
+that moment been wounded and his face showed fear rather than suffering.
+Crossing a road they descended a steep incline and saw several men lying
+on the ground; they also met a crowd of soldiers some of whom were
+unwounded. The soldiers were ascending the hill breathing heavily, and
+despite the general's presence were talking loudly and gesticulating. In
+front of them rows of gray cloaks were already visible through the
+smoke, and an officer catching sight of Bagration rushed shouting after
+the crowd of retreating soldiers, ordering them back. Bagration rode up
+to the ranks along which shots crackled now here and now there, drowning
+the sound of voices and the shouts of command. The whole air reeked with
+smoke. The excited faces of the soldiers were blackened with it. Some
+were using their ramrods, others putting powder on the touchpans or
+taking charges from their pouches, while others were firing, though who
+they were firing at could not be seen for the smoke which there was no
+wind to carry away. A pleasant humming and whistling of bullets were
+often heard. "What is this?" thought Prince Andrew approaching the crowd
+of soldiers. "It can't be an attack, for they are not moving; it can't
+be a square--for they are not drawn up for that."
+
+The commander of the regiment, a thin, feeble-looking old man with a
+pleasant smile--his eyelids drooping more than half over his old eyes,
+giving him a mild expression, rode up to Bagration and welcomed him as a
+host welcomes an honored guest. He reported that his regiment had been
+attacked by French cavalry and that, though the attack had been
+repulsed, he had lost more than half his men. He said the attack had
+been repulsed, employing this military term to describe what had
+occurred to his regiment, but in reality he did not himself know what
+had happened during that half-hour to the troops entrusted to him, and
+could not say with certainty whether the attack had been repulsed or his
+regiment had been broken up. All he knew was that at the commencement of
+the action balls and shells began flying all over his regiment and
+hitting men and that afterwards someone had shouted "Cavalry!" and our
+men had begun firing. They were still firing, not at the cavalry which
+had disappeared, but at French infantry who had come into the hollow and
+were firing at our men. Prince Bagration bowed his head as a sign that
+this was exactly what he had desired and expected. Turning to his
+adjutant he ordered him to bring down the two battalions of the Sixth
+Chasseurs whom they had just passed. Prince Andrew was struck by the
+changed expression on Prince Bagration's face at this moment. It
+expressed the concentrated and happy resolution you see on the face of a
+man who on a hot day takes a final run before plunging into the water.
+The dull, sleepy expression was no longer there, nor the affectation of
+profound thought. The round, steady, hawk's eyes looked before him
+eagerly and rather disdainfully, not resting on anything although his
+movements were still slow and measured.
+
+The commander of the regiment turned to Prince Bagration, entreating him
+to go back as it was too dangerous to remain where they were. "Please,
+your excellency, for God's sake!" he kept saying, glancing for support
+at an officer of the suite who turned away from him. "There, you see!"
+and he drew attention to the bullets whistling, singing, and hissing
+continually around them. He spoke in the tone of entreaty and reproach
+that a carpenter uses to a gentleman who has picked up an ax: "We are
+used to it, but you, sir, will blister your hands." He spoke as if those
+bullets could not kill him, and his half-closed eyes gave still more
+persuasiveness to his words. The staff officer joined in the colonel's
+appeals, but Bagration did not reply; he only gave an order to cease
+firing and re-form, so as to give room for the two approaching
+battalions. While he was speaking, the curtain of smoke that had
+concealed the hollow, driven by a rising wind, began to move from right
+to left as if drawn by an invisible hand, and the hill opposite, with
+the French moving about on it, opened out before them. All eyes fastened
+involuntarily on this French column advancing against them and winding
+down over the uneven ground. One could already see the soldiers' shaggy
+caps, distinguish the officers from the men, and see the standard
+flapping against its staff.
+
+"They march splendidly," remarked someone in Bagration's suite.
+
+The head of the column had already descended into the hollow. The clash
+would take place on this side of it...
+
+The remains of our regiment which had been in action rapidly formed up
+and moved to the right; from behind it, dispersing the laggards, came
+two battalions of the Sixth Chasseurs in fine order. Before they had
+reached Bagration, the weighty tread of the mass of men marching in step
+could be heard. On their left flank, nearest to Bagration, marched a
+company commander, a fine round-faced man, with a stupid and happy
+expression--the same man who had rushed out of the wattle shed. At that
+moment he was clearly thinking of nothing but how dashing a fellow he
+would appear as he passed the commander.
+
+With the self-satisfaction of a man on parade, he stepped lightly with
+his muscular legs as if sailing along, stretching himself to his full
+height without the smallest effort, his ease contrasting with the heavy
+tread of the soldiers who were keeping step with him. He carried close
+to his leg a narrow unsheathed sword (small, curved, and not like a real
+weapon) and looked now at the superior officers and now back at the men
+without losing step, his whole powerful body turning flexibly. It was as
+if all the powers of his soul were concentrated on passing the commander
+in the best possible manner, and feeling that he was doing it well he
+was happy. "Left... left... left..." he seemed to repeat to himself at
+each alternate step; and in time to this, with stern but varied faces,
+the wall of soldiers burdened with knapsacks and muskets marched in
+step, and each one of these hundreds of soldiers seemed to be repeating
+to himself at each alternate step, "Left... left... left..." A fat major
+skirted a bush, puffing and falling out of step; a soldier who had
+fallen behind, his face showing alarm at his defection, ran at a trot,
+panting to catch up with his company. A cannon ball, cleaving the air,
+flew over the heads of Bagration and his suite, and fell into the column
+to the measure of "Left... left!" "Close up!" came the company
+commander's voice in jaunty tones. The soldiers passed in a semicircle
+round something where the ball had fallen, and an old trooper on the
+flank, a noncommissioned officer who had stopped beside the dead men,
+ran to catch up his line and, falling into step with a hop, looked back
+angrily, and through the ominous silence and the regular tramp of feet
+beating the ground in unison, one seemed to hear left... left... left.
+
+"Well done, lads!" said Prince Bagration.
+
+"Glad to do our best, your ex'len-lency!" came a confused shout from the
+ranks. A morose soldier marching on the left turned his eyes on
+Bagration as he shouted, with an expression that seemed to say: "We know
+that ourselves!" Another, without looking round, as though fearing to
+relax, shouted with his mouth wide open and passed on.
+
+The order was given to halt and down knapsacks.
+
+Bagration rode round the ranks that had marched past him and dismounted.
+He gave the reins to a Cossack, took off and handed over his felt coat,
+stretched his legs, and set his cap straight. The head of the French
+column, with its officers leading, appeared from below the hill.
+
+"Forward, with God!" said Bagration, in a resolute, sonorous voice,
+turning for a moment to the front line, and slightly swinging his arms,
+he went forward uneasily over the rough field with the awkward gait of a
+cavalryman. Prince Andrew felt that an invisible power was leading him
+forward, and experienced great happiness.
+
+The French were already near. Prince Andrew, walking beside Bagration,
+could clearly distinguish their bandoliers, red epaulets, and even their
+faces. (He distinctly saw an old French officer who, with gaitered legs
+and turned-out toes, climbed the hill with difficulty.) Prince Bagration
+gave no further orders and silently continued to walk on in front of the
+ranks. Suddenly one shot after another rang out from the French, smoke
+appeared all along their uneven ranks, and musket shots sounded. Several
+of our men fell, among them the round-faced officer who had marched so
+gaily and complacently. But at the moment the first report was heard,
+Bagration looked round and shouted, "Hurrah!"
+
+"Hurrah--ah!--ah!" rang a long-drawn shout from our ranks, and passing
+Bagration and racing one another they rushed in an irregular but joyous
+and eager crowd down the hill at their disordered foe.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+The attack of the Sixth Chasseurs secured the retreat of our right
+flank. In the center Tushin's forgotten battery, which had managed to
+set fire to the Schon Grabern village, delayed the French advance. The
+French were putting out the fire which the wind was spreading, and thus
+gave us time to retreat. The retirement of the center to the other side
+of the dip in the ground at the rear was hurried and noisy, but the
+different companies did not get mixed. But our left--which consisted of
+the Azov and Podolsk infantry and the Pavlograd hussars--was
+simultaneously attacked and outflanked by superior French forces under
+Lannes and was thrown into confusion. Bagration had sent Zherkov to the
+general commanding that left flank with orders to retreat immediately.
+
+Zherkov, not removing his hand from his cap, turned his horse about and
+galloped off. But no sooner had he left Bagration than his courage
+failed him. He was seized by panic and could not go where it was
+dangerous.
+
+Having reached the left flank, instead of going to the front where the
+firing was, he began to look for the general and his staff where they
+could not possibly be, and so did not deliver the order.
+
+The command of the left flank belonged by seniority to the commander of
+the regiment Kutuzov had reviewed at Braunau and in which Dolokhov was
+serving as a private. But the command of the extreme left flank had been
+assigned to the commander of the Pavlograd regiment in which Rostov was
+serving, and a misunderstanding arose. The two commanders were much
+exasperated with one another and, long after the action had begun on the
+right flank and the French were already advancing, were engaged in
+discussion with the sole object of offending one another. But the
+regiments, both cavalry and infantry, were by no means ready for the
+impending action. From privates to general they were not expecting a
+battle and were engaged in peaceful occupations, the cavalry feeding the
+horses and the infantry collecting wood.
+
+"He higher iss dan I in rank," said the German colonel of the hussars,
+flushing and addressing an adjutant who had ridden up, "so let him do
+what he vill, but I cannot sacrifice my hussars... Bugler, sount ze
+retreat!"
+
+But haste was becoming imperative. Cannon and musketry, mingling
+together, thundered on the right and in the center, while the capotes of
+Lannes' sharpshooters were already seen crossing the milldam and forming
+up within twice the range of a musket shot. The general in command of
+the infantry went toward his horse with jerky steps, and having mounted
+drew himself up very straight and tall and rode to the Pavlograd
+commander. The commanders met with polite bows but with secret
+malevolence in their hearts.
+
+"Once again, Colonel," said the general, "I can't leave half my men in
+the wood. I beg of you, I beg of you," he repeated, "to occupy the
+position and prepare for an attack."
+
+"I peg of you yourself not to mix in vot is not your business!" suddenly
+replied the irate colonel. "If you vere in the cavalry..."
+
+"I am not in the cavalry, Colonel, but I am a Russian general and if you
+are not aware of the fact..."
+
+"Quite avare, your excellency," suddenly shouted the colonel, touching
+his horse and turning purple in the face. "Vill you be so goot to come
+to ze front and see dat zis position iss no goot? I don't vish to
+destroy my men for your pleasure!"
+
+"You forget yourself, Colonel. I am not considering my own pleasure and
+I won't allow it to be said!"
+
+Taking the colonel's outburst as a challenge to his courage, the general
+expanded his chest and rode, frowning, beside him to the front line, as
+if their differences would be settled there amongst the bullets. They
+reached the front, several bullets sped over them, and they halted in
+silence. There was nothing fresh to be seen from the line, for from
+where they had been before it had been evident that it was impossible
+for cavalry to act among the bushes and broken ground, as well as that
+the French were outflanking our left. The general and colonel looked
+sternly and significantly at one another like two fighting cocks
+preparing for battle, each vainly trying to detect signs of cowardice in
+the other. Both passed the examination successfully. As there was
+nothing to be said, and neither wished to give occasion for it to be
+alleged that he had been the first to leave the range of fire, they
+would have remained there for a long time testing each other's courage
+had it not been that just then they heard the rattle of musketry and a
+muffled shout almost behind them in the wood. The French had attacked
+the men collecting wood in the copse. It was no longer possible for the
+hussars to retreat with the infantry. They were cut off from the line of
+retreat on the left by the French. However inconvenient the position, it
+was now necessary to attack in order to cut a way through for
+themselves.
+
+The squadron in which Rostov was serving had scarcely time to mount
+before it was halted facing the enemy. Again, as at the Enns bridge,
+there was nothing between the squadron and the enemy, and again that
+terrible dividing line of uncertainty and fear--resembling the line
+separating the living from the dead--lay between them. All were
+conscious of this unseen line, and the question whether they would cross
+it or not, and how they would cross it, agitated them all.
+
+The colonel rode to the front, angrily gave some reply to questions put
+to him by the officers, and, like a man desperately insisting on having
+his own way, gave an order. No one said anything definite, but the rumor
+of an attack spread through the squadron. The command to form up rang
+out and the sabers whizzed as they were drawn from their scabbards.
+Still no one moved. The troops of the left flank, infantry and hussars
+alike, felt that the commander did not himself know what to do, and this
+irresolution communicated itself to the men.
+
+"If only they would be quick!" thought Rostov, feeling that at last the
+time had come to experience the joy of an attack of which he had so
+often heard from his fellow hussars.
+
+"Fo'ward, with God, lads!" rang out Denisov's voice. "At a twot
+fo'ward!"
+
+The horses' croups began to sway in the front line. Rook pulled at the
+reins and started of his own accord.
+
+Before him, on the right, Rostov saw the front lines of his hussars and
+still farther ahead a dark line which he could not see distinctly but
+took to be the enemy. Shots could be heard, but some way off.
+
+"Faster!" came the word of command, and Rostov felt Rook's flanks
+drooping as he broke into a gallop.
+
+Rostov anticipated his horse's movements and became more and more
+elated. He had noticed a solitary tree ahead of him. This tree had been
+in the middle of the line that had seemed so terrible--and now he had
+crossed that line and not only was there nothing terrible, but
+everything was becoming more and more happy and animated. "Oh, how I
+will slash at him!" thought Rostov, gripping the hilt of his saber.
+
+"Hur-a-a-a-ah!" came a roar of voices. "Let anyone come my way now,"
+thought Rostov driving his spurs into Rook and letting him go at a full
+gallop so that he outstripped the others. Ahead, the enemy was already
+visible. Suddenly something like a birch broom seemed to sweep over the
+squadron. Rostov raised his saber, ready to strike, but at that instant
+the trooper Nikitenko, who was galloping ahead, shot away from him, and
+Rostov felt as in a dream that he continued to be carried forward with
+unnatural speed but yet stayed on the same spot. From behind him
+Bondarchuk, an hussar he knew, jolted against him and looked angrily at
+him. Bondarchuk's horse swerved and galloped past.
+
+"How is it I am not moving? I have fallen, I am killed!" Rostov asked
+and answered at the same instant. He was alone in the middle of a field.
+Instead of the moving horses and hussars' backs, he saw nothing before
+him but the motionless earth and the stubble around him. There was warm
+blood under his arm. "No, I am wounded and the horse is killed." Rook
+tried to rise on his forelegs but fell back, pinning his rider's leg.
+Blood was flowing from his head; he struggled but could not rise. Rostov
+also tried to rise but fell back, his sabretache having become entangled
+in the saddle. Where our men were, and where the French, he did not
+know. There was no one near.
+
+Having disentangled his leg, he rose. "Where, on which side, was now the
+line that had so sharply divided the two armies?" he asked himself and
+could not answer. "Can something bad have happened to me?" he wondered
+as he got up: and at that moment he felt that something superfluous was
+hanging on his benumbed left arm. The wrist felt as if it were not his.
+He examined his hand carefully, vainly trying to find blood on it. "Ah,
+here are people coming," he thought joyfully, seeing some men running
+toward him. "They will help me!" In front came a man wearing a strange
+shako and a blue cloak, swarthy, sunburned, and with a hooked nose. Then
+came two more, and many more running behind. One of them said something
+strange, not in Russian. In among the hindmost of these men wearing
+similar shakos was a Russian hussar. He was being held by the arms and
+his horse was being led behind him.
+
+"It must be one of ours, a prisoner. Yes. Can it be that they will take
+me too? Who are these men?" thought Rostov, scarcely believing his eyes.
+"Can they be French?" He looked at the approaching Frenchmen, and though
+but a moment before he had been galloping to get at them and hack them
+to pieces, their proximity now seemed so awful that he could not believe
+his eyes. "Who are they? Why are they running? Can they be coming at me?
+And why? To kill me? Me whom everyone is so fond of?" He remembered his
+mother's love for him, and his family's, and his friends', and the
+enemy's intention to kill him seemed impossible. "But perhaps they may
+do it!" For more than ten seconds he stood not moving from the spot or
+realizing the situation. The foremost Frenchman, the one with the hooked
+nose, was already so close that the expression of his face could be
+seen. And the excited, alien face of that man, his bayonet hanging down,
+holding his breath, and running so lightly, frightened Rostov. He seized
+his pistol and, instead of firing it, flung it at the Frenchman and ran
+with all his might toward the bushes. He did not now run with the
+feeling of doubt and conflict with which he had trodden the Enns bridge,
+but with the feeling of a hare fleeing from the hounds. One single
+sentiment, that of fear for his young and happy life, possessed his
+whole being. Rapidly leaping the furrows, he fled across the field with
+the impetuosity he used to show at catchplay, now and then turning his
+good-natured, pale, young face to look back. A shudder of terror went
+through him: "No, better not look," he thought, but having reached the
+bushes he glanced round once more. The French had fallen behind, and
+just as he looked round the first man changed his run to a walk and,
+turning, shouted something loudly to a comrade farther back. Rostov
+paused. "No, there's some mistake," thought he. "They can't have wanted
+to kill me." But at the same time, his left arm felt as heavy as if a
+seventy-pound weight were tied to it. He could run no more. The
+Frenchman also stopped and took aim. Rostov closed his eyes and stooped
+down. One bullet and then another whistled past him. He mustered his
+last remaining strength, took hold of his left hand with his right, and
+reached the bushes. Behind these were some Russian sharpshooters.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+The infantry regiments that had been caught unawares in the outskirts of
+the wood ran out of it, the different companies getting mixed, and
+retreated as a disorderly crowd. One soldier, in his fear, uttered the
+senseless cry, "Cut off!" that is so terrible in battle, and that word
+infected the whole crowd with a feeling of panic.
+
+"Surrounded! Cut off? We're lost!" shouted the fugitives.
+
+The moment he heard the firing and the cry from behind, the general
+realized that something dreadful had happened to his regiment, and the
+thought that he, an exemplary officer of many years' service who had
+never been to blame, might be held responsible at headquarters for
+negligence or inefficiency so staggered him that, forgetting the
+recalcitrant cavalry colonel, his own dignity as a general, and above
+all quite forgetting the danger and all regard for self-preservation, he
+clutched the crupper of his saddle and, spurring his horse, galloped to
+the regiment under a hail of bullets which fell around, but fortunately
+missed him. His one desire was to know what was happening and at any
+cost correct, or remedy, the mistake if he had made one, so that he, an
+exemplary officer of twenty-two years' service, who had never been
+censured, should not be held to blame.
+
+Having galloped safely through the French, he reached a field behind the
+copse across which our men, regardless of orders, were running and
+descending the valley. That moment of moral hesitation which decides the
+fate of battles had arrived. Would this disorderly crowd of soldiers
+attend to the voice of their commander, or would they, disregarding him,
+continue their flight? Despite his desperate shouts that used to seem so
+terrible to the soldiers, despite his furious purple countenance
+distorted out of all likeness to his former self, and the flourishing of
+his saber, the soldiers all continued to run, talking, firing into the
+air, and disobeying orders. The moral hesitation which decided the fate
+of battles was evidently culminating in a panic.
+
+The general had a fit of coughing as a result of shouting and of the
+powder smoke and stopped in despair. Everything seemed lost. But at that
+moment the French who were attacking, suddenly and without any apparent
+reason, ran back and disappeared from the outskirts, and Russian
+sharpshooters showed themselves in the copse. It was Timokhin's company,
+which alone had maintained its order in the wood and, having lain in
+ambush in a ditch, now attacked the French unexpectedly. Timokhin, armed
+only with a sword, had rushed at the enemy with such a desperate cry and
+such mad, drunken determination that, taken by surprise, the French had
+thrown down their muskets and run. Dolokhov, running beside Timokhin,
+killed a Frenchman at close quarters and was the first to seize the
+surrendering French officer by his collar. Our fugitives returned, the
+battalions re-formed, and the French who had nearly cut our left flank
+in half were for the moment repulsed. Our reserve units were able to
+join up, and the fight was at an end. The regimental commander and Major
+Ekonomov had stopped beside a bridge, letting the retreating companies
+pass by them, when a soldier came up and took hold of the commander's
+stirrup, almost leaning against him. The man was wearing a bluish coat
+of broadcloth, he had no knapsack or cap, his head was bandaged, and
+over his shoulder a French munition pouch was slung. He had an officer's
+sword in his hand. The soldier was pale, his blue eyes looked impudently
+into the commander's face, and his lips were smiling. Though the
+commander was occupied in giving instructions to Major Ekonomov, he
+could not help taking notice of the soldier.
+
+"Your excellency, here are two trophies," said Dolokhov, pointing to the
+French sword and pouch. "I have taken an officer prisoner. I stopped the
+company." Dolokhov breathed heavily from weariness and spoke in abrupt
+sentences. "The whole company can bear witness. I beg you will remember
+this, your excellency!"
+
+"All right, all right," replied the commander, and turned to Major
+Ekonomov.
+
+But Dolokhov did not go away; he untied the handkerchief around his
+head, pulled it off, and showed the blood congealed on his hair.
+
+"A bayonet wound. I remained at the front. Remember, your excellency!"
+
+Tushin's battery had been forgotten and only at the very end of the
+action did Prince Bagration, still hearing the cannonade in the center,
+send his orderly staff officer, and later Prince Andrew also, to order
+the battery to retire as quickly as possible. When the supports attached
+to Tushin's battery had been moved away in the middle of the action by
+someone's order, the battery had continued firing and was only not
+captured by the French because the enemy could not surmise that anyone
+could have the effrontery to continue firing from four quite undefended
+guns. On the contrary, the energetic action of that battery led the
+French to suppose that here--in the center--the main Russian forces were
+concentrated. Twice they had attempted to attack this point, but on each
+occasion had been driven back by grapeshot from the four isolated guns
+on the hillock.
+
+Soon after Prince Bagration had left him, Tushin had succeeded in
+setting fire to Schon Grabern.
+
+"Look at them scurrying! It's burning! Just see the smoke! Fine! Grand!
+Look at the smoke, the smoke!" exclaimed the artillerymen, brightening
+up.
+
+All the guns, without waiting for orders, were being fired in the
+direction of the conflagration. As if urging each other on, the soldiers
+cried at each shot: "Fine! That's good! Look at it... Grand!" The fire,
+fanned by the breeze, was rapidly spreading. The French columns that had
+advanced beyond the village went back; but as though in revenge for this
+failure, the enemy placed ten guns to the right of the village and began
+firing them at Tushin's battery.
+
+In their childlike glee, aroused by the fire and their luck in
+successfully cannonading the French, our artillerymen only noticed this
+battery when two balls, and then four more, fell among our guns, one
+knocking over two horses and another tearing off a munition-wagon
+driver's leg. Their spirits once roused were, however, not diminished,
+but only changed character. The horses were replaced by others from a
+reserve gun carriage, the wounded were carried away, and the four guns
+were turned against the ten-gun battery. Tushin's companion officer had
+been killed at the beginning of the engagement and within an hour
+seventeen of the forty men of the guns' crews had been disabled, but the
+artillerymen were still as merry and lively as ever. Twice they noticed
+the French appearing below them, and then they fired grapeshot at them.
+
+Little Tushin, moving feebly and awkwardly, kept telling his orderly to
+"refill my pipe for that one!" and then, scattering sparks from it, ran
+forward shading his eyes with his small hand to look at the French.
+
+"Smack at 'em, lads!" he kept saying, seizing the guns by the wheels and
+working the screws himself.
+
+Amid the smoke, deafened by the incessant reports which always made him
+jump, Tushin not taking his pipe from his mouth ran from gun to gun, now
+aiming, now counting the charges, now giving orders about replacing dead
+or wounded horses and harnessing fresh ones, and shouting in his feeble
+voice, so high pitched and irresolute. His face grew more and more
+animated. Only when a man was killed or wounded did he frown and turn
+away from the sight, shouting angrily at the men who, as is always the
+case, hesitated about lifting the injured or dead. The soldiers, for the
+most part handsome fellows and, as is always the case in an artillery
+company, a head and shoulders taller and twice as broad as their
+officer--all looked at their commander like children in an embarrassing
+situation, and the expression on his face was invariably reflected on
+theirs.
+
+Owing to the terrible uproar and the necessity for concentration and
+activity, Tushin did not experience the slightest unpleasant sense of
+fear, and the thought that he might be killed or badly wounded never
+occurred to him. On the contrary, he became more and more elated. It
+seemed to him that it was a very long time ago, almost a day, since he
+had first seen the enemy and fired the first shot, and that the corner
+of the field he stood on was well-known and familiar ground. Though he
+thought of everything, considered everything, and did everything the
+best of officers could do in his position, he was in a state akin to
+feverish delirium or drunkenness.
+
+From the deafening sounds of his own guns around him, the whistle and
+thud of the enemy's cannon balls, from the flushed and perspiring faces
+of the crew bustling round the guns, from the sight of the blood of men
+and horses, from the little puffs of smoke on the enemy's side (always
+followed by a ball flying past and striking the earth, a man, a gun, a
+horse), from the sight of all these things a fantastic world of his own
+had taken possession of his brain and at that moment afforded him
+pleasure. The enemy's guns were in his fancy not guns but pipes from
+which occasional puffs were blown by an invisible smoker.
+
+"There... he's puffing again," muttered Tushin to himself, as a small
+cloud rose from the hill and was borne in a streak to the left by the
+wind.
+
+"Now look out for the ball... we'll throw it back."
+
+"What do you want, your honor?" asked an artilleryman, standing close
+by, who heard him muttering.
+
+"Nothing... only a shell..." he answered.
+
+"Come along, our Matvevna!" he said to himself. "Matvevna" * was the
+name his fancy gave to the farthest gun of the battery, which was large
+and of an old pattern. The French swarming round their guns seemed to
+him like ants. In that world, the handsome drunkard Number One of the
+second gun's crew was "uncle"; Tushin looked at him more often than at
+anyone else and took delight in his every movement. The sound of
+musketry at the foot of the hill, now diminishing, now increasing,
+seemed like someone's breathing. He listened intently to the ebb and
+flow of these sounds.
+
+
+* Daughter of Matthew.
+
+"Ah! Breathing again, breathing!" he muttered to himself.
+
+He imagined himself as an enormously tall, powerful man who was throwing
+cannon balls at the French with both hands.
+
+"Now then, Matvevna, dear old lady, don't let me down!" he was saying as
+he moved from the gun, when a strange, unfamiliar voice called above his
+head: "Captain Tushin! Captain!"
+
+Tushin turned round in dismay. It was the staff officer who had turned
+him out of the booth at Grunth. He was shouting in a gasping voice:
+
+"Are you mad? You have twice been ordered to retreat, and you..."
+
+"Why are they down on me?" thought Tushin, looking in alarm at his
+superior.
+
+"I... don't..." he muttered, holding up two fingers to his cap. "I..."
+
+But the staff officer did not finish what he wanted to say. A cannon
+ball, flying close to him, caused him to duck and bend over his horse.
+He paused, and just as he was about to say something more, another ball
+stopped him. He turned his horse and galloped off.
+
+"Retire! All to retire!" he shouted from a distance.
+
+The soldiers laughed. A moment later, an adjutant arrived with the same
+order.
+
+It was Prince Andrew. The first thing he saw on riding up to the space
+where Tushin's guns were stationed was an unharnessed horse with a
+broken leg, that lay screaming piteously beside the harnessed horses.
+Blood was gushing from its leg as from a spring. Among the limbers lay
+several dead men. One ball after another passed over as he approached
+and he felt a nervous shudder run down his spine. But the mere thought
+of being afraid roused him again. "I cannot be afraid," thought he, and
+dismounted slowly among the guns. He delivered the order and did not
+leave the battery. He decided to have the guns removed from their
+positions and withdrawn in his presence. Together with Tushin, stepping
+across the bodies and under a terrible fire from the French, he attended
+to the removal of the guns.
+
+"A staff officer was here a minute ago, but skipped off," said an
+artilleryman to Prince Andrew. "Not like your honor!"
+
+Prince Andrew said nothing to Tushin. They were both so busy as to seem
+not to notice one another. When having limbered up the only two cannon
+that remained uninjured out of the four, they began moving down the hill
+(one shattered gun and one unicorn were left behind), Prince Andrew rode
+up to Tushin.
+
+"Well, till we meet again..." he said, holding out his hand to Tushin.
+
+"Good-bye, my dear fellow," said Tushin. "Dear soul! Good-bye, my dear
+fellow!" and for some unknown reason tears suddenly filled his eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+The wind had fallen and black clouds, merging with the powder smoke,
+hung low over the field of battle on the horizon. It was growing dark
+and the glow of two conflagrations was the more conspicuous. The
+cannonade was dying down, but the rattle of musketry behind and on the
+right sounded oftener and nearer. As soon as Tushin with his guns,
+continually driving round or coming upon wounded men, was out of range
+of fire and had descended into the dip, he was met by some of the staff,
+among them the staff officer and Zherkov, who had been twice sent to
+Tushin's battery but had never reached it. Interrupting one another,
+they all gave, and transmitted, orders as to how to proceed,
+reprimanding and reproaching him. Tushin gave no orders, and, silently--
+fearing to speak because at every word he felt ready to weep without
+knowing why--rode behind on his artillery nag. Though the orders were to
+abandon the wounded, many of them dragged themselves after troops and
+begged for seats on the gun carriages. The jaunty infantry officer who
+just before the battle had rushed out of Tushin's wattle shed was laid,
+with a bullet in his stomach, on "Matvevna's" carriage. At the foot of
+the hill, a pale hussar cadet, supporting one hand with the other, came
+up to Tushin and asked for a seat.
+
+"Captain, for God's sake! I've hurt my arm," he said timidly. "For God's
+sake... I can't walk. For God's sake!"
+
+It was plain that this cadet had already repeatedly asked for a lift and
+been refused. He asked in a hesitating, piteous voice.
+
+"Tell them to give me a seat, for God's sake!"
+
+"Give him a seat," said Tushin. "Lay a cloak for him to sit on, lad," he
+said, addressing his favorite soldier. "And where is the wounded
+officer?"
+
+"He has been set down. He died," replied someone.
+
+"Help him up. Sit down, dear fellow, sit down! Spread out the cloak,
+Antonov."
+
+The cadet was Rostov. With one hand he supported the other; he was pale
+and his jaw trembled, shivering feverishly. He was placed on "Matvevna,"
+the gun from which they had removed the dead officer. The cloak they
+spread under him was wet with blood which stained his breeches and arm.
+
+"What, are you wounded, my lad?" said Tushin, approaching the gun on
+which Rostov sat.
+
+"No, it's a sprain."
+
+"Then what is this blood on the gun carriage?" inquired Tushin.
+
+"It was the officer, your honor, stained it," answered the artilleryman,
+wiping away the blood with his coat sleeve, as if apologizing for the
+state of his gun.
+
+It was all that they could do to get the guns up the rise aided by the
+infantry, and having reached the village of Gruntersdorf they halted. It
+had grown so dark that one could not distinguish the uniforms ten paces
+off, and the firing had begun to subside. Suddenly, near by on the
+right, shouting and firing were again heard. Flashes of shot gleamed in
+the darkness. This was the last French attack and was met by soldiers
+who had sheltered in the village houses. They all rushed out of the
+village again, but Tushin's guns could not move, and the artillerymen,
+Tushin, and the cadet exchanged silent glances as they awaited their
+fate. The firing died down and soldiers, talking eagerly, streamed out
+of a side street.
+
+"Not hurt, Petrov?" asked one.
+
+"We've given it 'em hot, mate! They won't make another push now," said
+another.
+
+"You couldn't see a thing. How they shot at their own fellows! Nothing
+could be seen. Pitch-dark, brother! Isn't there something to drink?"
+
+The French had been repulsed for the last time. And again and again in
+the complete darkness Tushin's guns moved forward, surrounded by the
+humming infantry as by a frame.
+
+In the darkness, it seemed as though a gloomy unseen river was flowing
+always in one direction, humming with whispers and talk and the sound of
+hoofs and wheels. Amid the general rumble, the groans and voices of the
+wounded were more distinctly heard than any other sound in the darkness
+of the night. The gloom that enveloped the army was filled with their
+groans, which seemed to melt into one with the darkness of the night.
+After a while the moving mass became agitated, someone rode past on a
+white horse followed by his suite, and said something in passing: "What
+did he say? Where to, now? Halt, is it? Did he thank us?" came eager
+questions from all sides. The whole moving mass began pressing closer
+together and a report spread that they were ordered to halt: evidently
+those in front had halted. All remained where they were in the middle of
+the muddy road.
+
+Fires were lighted and the talk became more audible. Captain Tushin,
+having given orders to his company, sent a soldier to find a dressing
+station or a doctor for the cadet, and sat down by a bonfire the
+soldiers had kindled on the road. Rostov, too, dragged himself to the
+fire. From pain, cold, and damp, a feverish shivering shook his whole
+body. Drowsiness was irresistibly mastering him, but he kept awake by an
+excruciating pain in his arm, for which he could find no satisfactory
+position. He kept closing his eyes and then again looking at the fire,
+which seemed to him dazzlingly red, and at the feeble, round-shouldered
+figure of Tushin who was sitting cross-legged like a Turk beside him.
+Tushin's large, kind, intelligent eyes were fixed with sympathy and
+commiseration on Rostov, who saw that Tushin with his whole heart wished
+to help him but could not.
+
+From all sides were heard the footsteps and talk of the infantry, who
+were walking, driving past, and settling down all around. The sound of
+voices, the tramping feet, the horses' hoofs moving in mud, the
+crackling of wood fires near and afar, merged into one tremulous rumble.
+
+It was no longer, as before, a dark, unseen river flowing through the
+gloom, but a dark sea swelling and gradually subsiding after a storm.
+Rostov looked at and listened listlessly to what passed before and
+around him. An infantryman came to the fire, squatted on his heels, held
+his hands to the blaze, and turned away his face.
+
+"You don't mind your honor?" he asked Tushin. "I've lost my company,
+your honor. I don't know where... such bad luck!"
+
+With the soldier, an infantry officer with a bandaged cheek came up to
+the bonfire, and addressing Tushin asked him to have the guns moved a
+trifle to let a wagon go past. After he had gone, two soldiers rushed to
+the campfire. They were quarreling and fighting desperately, each trying
+to snatch from the other a boot they were both holding on to.
+
+"You picked it up?... I dare say! You're very smart!" one of them
+shouted hoarsely.
+
+Then a thin, pale soldier, his neck bandaged with a bloodstained leg
+band, came up and in angry tones asked the artillerymen for water.
+
+"Must one die like a dog?" said he.
+
+Tushin told them to give the man some water. Then a cheerful soldier ran
+up, begging a little fire for the infantry.
+
+"A nice little hot torch for the infantry! Good luck to you, fellow
+countrymen. Thanks for the fire--we'll return it with interest," said
+he, carrying away into the darkness a glowing stick.
+
+Next came four soldiers, carrying something heavy on a cloak, and passed
+by the fire. One of them stumbled.
+
+"Who the devil has put the logs on the road?" snarled he.
+
+"He's dead--why carry him?" said another.
+
+"Shut up!"
+
+And they disappeared into the darkness with their load.
+
+"Still aching?" Tushin asked Rostov in a whisper.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Your honor, you're wanted by the general. He is in the hut here," said
+a gunner, coming up to Tushin.
+
+"Coming, friend."
+
+Tushin rose and, buttoning his greatcoat and pulling it straight, walked
+away from the fire.
+
+Not far from the artillery campfire, in a hut that had been prepared for
+him, Prince Bagration sat at dinner, talking with some commanding
+officers who had gathered at his quarters. The little old man with the
+half-closed eyes was there greedily gnawing a mutton bone, and the
+general who had served blamelessly for twenty-two years, flushed by a
+glass of vodka and the dinner; and the staff officer with the signet
+ring, and Zherkov, uneasily glancing at them all, and Prince Andrew,
+pale, with compressed lips and feverishly glittering eyes.
+
+In a corner of the hut stood a standard captured from the French, and
+the accountant with the naive face was feeling its texture, shaking his
+head in perplexity--perhaps because the banner really interested him,
+perhaps because it was hard for him, hungry as he was, to look on at a
+dinner where there was no place for him. In the next hut there was a
+French colonel who had been taken prisoner by our dragoons. Our officers
+were flocking in to look at him. Prince Bagration was thanking the
+individual commanders and inquiring into details of the action and our
+losses. The general whose regiment had been inspected at Braunau was
+informing the prince that as soon as the action began he had withdrawn
+from the wood, mustered the men who were woodcutting, and, allowing the
+French to pass him, had made a bayonet charge with two battalions and
+had broken up the French troops.
+
+"When I saw, your excellency, that their first battalion was
+disorganized, I stopped in the road and thought: 'I'll let them come on
+and will meet them with the fire of the whole battalion'--and that's
+what I did."
+
+The general had so wished to do this and was so sorry he had not managed
+to do it that it seemed to him as if it had really happened. Perhaps it
+might really have been so? Could one possibly make out amid all that
+confusion what did or did not happen?
+
+"By the way, your excellency, I should inform you," he continued--
+remembering Dolokhov's conversation with Kutuzov and his last interview
+with the gentleman-ranker--"that Private Dolokhov, who was reduced to
+the ranks, took a French officer prisoner in my presence and
+particularly distinguished himself."
+
+"I saw the Pavlograd hussars attack there, your excellency," chimed in
+Zherkov, looking uneasily around. He had not seen the hussars all that
+day, but had heard about them from an infantry officer. "They broke up
+two squares, your excellency."
+
+Several of those present smiled at Zherkov's words, expecting one of his
+usual jokes, but noticing that what he was saying redounded to the glory
+of our arms and of the day's work, they assumed a serious expression,
+though many of them knew that what he was saying was a lie devoid of any
+foundation. Prince Bagration turned to the old colonel:
+
+"Gentlemen, I thank you all; all arms have behaved heroically: infantry,
+cavalry, and artillery. How was it that two guns were abandoned in the
+center?" he inquired, searching with his eyes for someone. (Prince
+Bagration did not ask about the guns on the left flank; he knew that all
+the guns there had been abandoned at the very beginning of the action.)
+"I think I sent you?" he added, turning to the staff officer on duty.
+
+"One was damaged," answered the staff officer, "and the other I can't
+understand. I was there all the time giving orders and had only just
+left.... It is true that it was hot there," he added, modestly.
+
+Someone mentioned that Captain Tushin was bivouacking close to the
+village and had already been sent for.
+
+"Oh, but you were there?" said Prince Bagration, addressing Prince
+Andrew.
+
+"Of course, we only just missed one another," said the staff officer,
+with a smile to Bolkonski.
+
+"I had not the pleasure of seeing you," said Prince Andrew, coldly and
+abruptly.
+
+All were silent. Tushin appeared at the threshold and made his way
+timidly from behind the backs of the generals. As he stepped past the
+generals in the crowded hut, feeling embarrassed as he always was by the
+sight of his superiors, he did not notice the staff of the banner and
+stumbled over it. Several of those present laughed.
+
+"How was it a gun was abandoned?" asked Bagration, frowning, not so much
+at the captain as at those who were laughing, among whom Zherkov laughed
+loudest.
+
+Only now, when he was confronted by the stern authorities, did his guilt
+and the disgrace of having lost two guns and yet remaining alive present
+themselves to Tushin in all their horror. He had been so excited that he
+had not thought about it until that moment. The officers' laughter
+confused him still more. He stood before Bagration with his lower jaw
+trembling and was hardly able to mutter: "I don't know... your
+excellency... I had no men... your excellency."
+
+"You might have taken some from the covering troops."
+
+Tushin did not say that there were no covering troops, though that was
+perfectly true. He was afraid of getting some other officer into
+trouble, and silently fixed his eyes on Bagration as a schoolboy who has
+blundered looks at an examiner.
+
+The silence lasted some time. Prince Bagration, apparently not wishing
+to be severe, found nothing to say; the others did not venture to
+intervene. Prince Andrew looked at Tushin from under his brows and his
+fingers twitched nervously.
+
+"Your excellency!" Prince Andrew broke the silence with his abrupt
+voice, "you were pleased to send me to Captain Tushin's battery. I went
+there and found two thirds of the men and horses knocked out, two guns
+smashed, and no supports at all."
+
+Prince Bagration and Tushin looked with equal intentness at Bolkonski,
+who spoke with suppressed agitation.
+
+"And, if your excellency will allow me to express my opinion," he
+continued, "we owe today's success chiefly to the action of that battery
+and the heroic endurance of Captain Tushin and his company," and without
+awaiting a reply, Prince Andrew rose and left the table.
+
+Prince Bagration looked at Tushin, evidently reluctant to show distrust
+in Bolkonski's emphatic opinion yet not feeling able fully to credit it,
+bent his head, and told Tushin that he could go. Prince Andrew went out
+with him.
+
+"Thank you; you saved me, my dear fellow!" said Tushin.
+
+Prince Andrew gave him a look, but said nothing and went away. He felt
+sad and depressed. It was all so strange, so unlike what he had hoped.
+
+"Who are they? Why are they here? What do they want? And when will all
+this end?" thought Rostov, looking at the changing shadows before him.
+The pain in his arm became more and more intense. Irresistible
+drowsiness overpowered him, red rings danced before his eyes, and the
+impression of those voices and faces and a sense of loneliness merged
+with the physical pain. It was they, these soldiers--wounded and
+unwounded--it was they who were crushing, weighing down, and twisting
+the sinews and scorching the flesh of his sprained arm and shoulder. To
+rid himself of them he closed his eyes.
+
+For a moment he dozed, but in that short interval innumerable things
+appeared to him in a dream: his mother and her large white hand, Sonya's
+thin little shoulders, Natasha's eyes and laughter, Denisov with his
+voice and mustache, and Telyanin and all that affair with Telyanin and
+Bogdanich. That affair was the same thing as this soldier with the harsh
+voice, and it was that affair and this soldier that were so agonizingly,
+incessantly pulling and pressing his arm and always dragging it in one
+direction. He tried to get away from them, but they would not for an
+instant let his shoulder move a hair's breadth. It would not ache--it
+would be well--if only they did not pull it, but it was impossible to
+get rid of them.
+
+He opened his eyes and looked up. The black canopy of night hung less
+than a yard above the glow of the charcoal. Flakes of falling snow were
+fluttering in that light. Tushin had not returned, the doctor had not
+come. He was alone now, except for a soldier who was sitting naked at
+the other side of the fire, warming his thin yellow body.
+
+"Nobody wants me!" thought Rostov. "There is no one to help me or pity
+me. Yet I was once at home, strong, happy, and loved." He sighed and,
+doing so, groaned involuntarily.
+
+"Eh, is anything hurting you?" asked the soldier, shaking his shirt out
+over the fire, and not waiting for an answer he gave a grunt and added:
+"What a lot of men have been crippled today--frightful!"
+
+Rostov did not listen to the soldier. He looked at the snowflakes
+fluttering above the fire and remembered a Russian winter at his warm,
+bright home, his fluffy fur coat, his quickly gliding sleigh, his
+healthy body, and all the affection and care of his family. "And why did
+I come here?" he wondered.
+
+Next day the French army did not renew their attack, and the remnant of
+Bagration's detachment was reunited to Kutuzov's army.
+
+BOOK THREE: 1805
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+Prince Vasili was not a man who deliberately thought out his plans.
+Still less did he think of injuring anyone for his own advantage. He was
+merely a man of the world who had got on and to whom getting on had
+become a habit. Schemes and devices for which he never rightly accounted
+to himself, but which formed the whole interest of his life, were
+constantly shaping themselves in his mind, arising from the
+circumstances and persons he met. Of these plans he had not merely one
+or two in his head but dozens, some only beginning to form themselves,
+some approaching achievement, and some in course of disintegration. He
+did not, for instance, say to himself: "This man now has influence, I
+must gain his confidence and friendship and through him obtain a special
+grant." Nor did he say to himself: "Pierre is a rich man, I must entice
+him to marry my daughter and lend me the forty thousand rubles I need."
+But when he came across a man of position his instinct immediately told
+him that this man could be useful, and without any premeditation Prince
+Vasili took the first opportunity to gain his confidence, flatter him,
+become intimate with him, and finally make his request.
+
+He had Pierre at hand in Moscow and procured for him an appointment as
+Gentleman of the Bedchamber, which at that time conferred the status of
+Councilor of State, and insisted on the young man accompanying him to
+Petersburg and staying at his house. With apparent absent-mindedness,
+yet with unhesitating assurance that he was doing the right thing,
+Prince Vasili did everything to get Pierre to marry his daughter. Had he
+thought out his plans beforehand he could not have been so natural and
+shown such unaffected familiarity in intercourse with everybody both
+above and below him in social standing. Something always drew him toward
+those richer and more powerful than himself and he had rare skill in
+seizing the most opportune moment for making use of people.
+
+Pierre, on unexpectedly becoming Count Bezukhov and a rich man, felt
+himself after his recent loneliness and freedom from cares so beset and
+preoccupied that only in bed was he able to be by himself. He had to
+sign papers, to present himself at government offices, the purpose of
+which was not clear to him, to question his chief steward, to visit his
+estate near Moscow, and to receive many people who formerly did not even
+wish to know of his existence but would now have been offended and
+grieved had he chosen not to see them. These different people--
+businessmen, relations, and acquaintances alike--were all disposed to
+treat the young heir in the most friendly and flattering manner: they
+were all evidently firmly convinced of Pierre's noble qualities. He was
+always hearing such words as: "With your remarkable kindness," or, "With
+your excellent heart," "You are yourself so honorable Count," or, "Were
+he as clever as you," and so on, till he began sincerely to believe in
+his own exceptional kindness and extraordinary intelligence, the more so
+as in the depth of his heart it had always seemed to him that he really
+was very kind and intelligent. Even people who had formerly been
+spiteful toward him and evidently unfriendly now became gentle and
+affectionate. The angry eldest princess, with the long waist and hair
+plastered down like a doll's, had come into Pierre's room after the
+funeral. With drooping eyes and frequent blushes she told him she was
+very sorry about their past misunderstandings and did not now feel she
+had a right to ask him for anything, except only for permission, after
+the blow she had received, to remain for a few weeks longer in the house
+she so loved and where she had sacrificed so much. She could not refrain
+from weeping at these words. Touched that this statuesque princess could
+so change, Pierre took her hand and begged her forgiveness, without
+knowing what for. From that day the eldest princess quite changed toward
+Pierre and began knitting a striped scarf for him.
+
+"Do this for my sake, mon cher; after all, she had to put up with a
+great deal from the deceased," said Prince Vasili to him, handing him a
+deed to sign for the princess' benefit.
+
+Prince Vasili had come to the conclusion that it was necessary to throw
+this bone--a bill for thirty thousand rubles--to the poor princess that
+it might not occur to her to speak of his share in the affair of the
+inlaid portfolio. Pierre signed the deed and after that the princess
+grew still kinder. The younger sisters also became affectionate to him,
+especially the youngest, the pretty one with the mole, who often made
+him feel confused by her smiles and her own confusion when meeting him.
+
+It seemed so natural to Pierre that everyone should like him, and it
+would have seemed so unnatural had anyone disliked him, that he could
+not but believe in the sincerity of those around him. Besides, he had no
+time to ask himself whether these people were sincere or not. He was
+always busy and always felt in a state of mild and cheerful
+intoxication. He felt as though he were the center of some important and
+general movement; that something was constantly expected of him, that if
+he did not do it he would grieve and disappoint many people, but if he
+did this and that, all would be well; and he did what was demanded of
+him, but still that happy result always remained in the future.
+
+More than anyone else, Prince Vasili took possession of Pierre's affairs
+and of Pierre himself in those early days. From the death of Count
+Bezukhov he did not let go his hold of the lad. He had the air of a man
+oppressed by business, weary and suffering, who yet would not, for
+pity's sake, leave this helpless youth who, after all, was the son of
+his old friend and the possessor of such enormous wealth, to the caprice
+of fate and the designs of rogues. During the few days he spent in
+Moscow after the death of Count Bezukhov, he would call Pierre, or go to
+him himself, and tell him what ought to be done in a tone of weariness
+and assurance, as if he were adding every time: "You know I am
+overwhelmed with business and it is purely out of charity that I trouble
+myself about you, and you also know quite well that what I propose is
+the only thing possible."
+
+"Well, my dear fellow, tomorrow we are off at last," said Prince Vasili
+one day, closing his eyes and fingering Pierre's elbow, speaking as if
+he were saying something which had long since been agreed upon and could
+not now be altered. "We start tomorrow and I'm giving you a place in my
+carriage. I am very glad. All our important business here is now
+settled, and I ought to have been off long ago. Here is something I have
+received from the chancellor. I asked him for you, and you have been
+entered in the diplomatic corps and made a Gentleman of the Bedchamber.
+The diplomatic career now lies open before you."
+
+Notwithstanding the tone of wearied assurance with which these words
+were pronounced, Pierre, who had so long been considering his career,
+wished to make some suggestion. But Prince Vasili interrupted him in the
+special deep cooing tone, precluding the possibility of interrupting his
+speech, which he used in extreme cases when special persuasion was
+needed.
+
+"Mais, mon cher, I did this for my own sake, to satisfy my conscience,
+and there is nothing to thank me for. No one has ever complained yet of
+being too much loved; and besides, you are free, you could throw it up
+tomorrow. But you will see everything for yourself when you get to
+Petersburg. It is high time for you to get away from these terrible
+recollections." Prince Vasili sighed. "Yes, yes, my boy. And my valet
+can go in your carriage. Ah! I was nearly forgetting," he added. "You
+know, mon cher, your father and I had some accounts to settle, so I have
+received what was due from the Ryazan estate and will keep it; you won't
+require it. We'll go into the accounts later."
+
+By "what was due from the Ryazan estate" Prince Vasili meant several
+thousand rubles quitrent received from Pierre's peasants, which the
+prince had retained for himself.
+
+In Petersburg, as in Moscow, Pierre found the same atmosphere of
+gentleness and affection. He could not refuse the post, or rather the
+rank (for he did nothing), that Prince Vasili had procured for him, and
+acquaintances, invitations, and social occupations were so numerous
+that, even more than in Moscow, he felt a sense of bewilderment, bustle,
+and continual expectation of some good, always in front of him but never
+attained.
+
+Of his former bachelor acquaintances many were no longer in Petersburg.
+The Guards had gone to the front; Dolokhov had been reduced to the
+ranks; Anatole was in the army somewhere in the provinces; Prince Andrew
+was abroad; so Pierre had not the opportunity to spend his nights as he
+used to like to spend them, or to open his mind by intimate talks with a
+friend older than himself and whom he respected. His whole time was
+taken up with dinners and balls and was spent chiefly at Prince Vasili's
+house in the company of the stout princess, his wife, and his beautiful
+daughter Helene.
+
+Like the others, Anna Pavlovna Scherer showed Pierre the change of
+attitude toward him that had taken place in society.
+
+Formerly in Anna Pavlovna's presence, Pierre had always felt that what
+he was saying was out of place, tactless and unsuitable, that remarks
+which seemed to him clever while they formed in his mind became foolish
+as soon as he uttered them, while on the contrary Hippolyte's stupidest
+remarks came out clever and apt. Now everything Pierre said was
+charmant. Even if Anna Pavlovna did not say so, he could see that she
+wished to and only refrained out of regard for his modesty.
+
+In the beginning of the winter of 1805-6 Pierre received one of Anna
+Pavlovna's usual pink notes with an invitation to which was added: "You
+will find the beautiful Helene here, whom it is always delightful to
+see."
+
+When he read that sentence, Pierre felt for the first time that some
+link which other people recognized had grown up between himself and
+Helene, and that thought both alarmed him, as if some obligation were
+being imposed on him which he could not fulfill, and pleased him as an
+entertaining supposition.
+
+Anna Pavlovna's "At Home" was like the former one, only the novelty she
+offered her guests this time was not Mortemart, but a diplomatist fresh
+from Berlin with the very latest details of the Emperor Alexander's
+visit to Potsdam, and of how the two august friends had pledged
+themselves in an indissoluble alliance to uphold the cause of justice
+against the enemy of the human race. Anna Pavlovna received Pierre with
+a shade of melancholy, evidently relating to the young man's recent loss
+by the death of Count Bezukhov (everyone constantly considered it a duty
+to assure Pierre that he was greatly afflicted by the death of the
+father he had hardly known), and her melancholy was just like the august
+melancholy she showed at the mention of her most august Majesty the
+Empress Marya Fedorovna. Pierre felt flattered by this. Anna Pavlovna
+arranged the different groups in her drawing room with her habitual
+skill. The large group, in which were Prince Vasili and the generals,
+had the benefit of the diplomat. Another group was at the tea table.
+Pierre wished to join the former, but Anna Pavlovna--who was in the
+excited condition of a commander on a battlefield to whom thousands of
+new and brilliant ideas occur which there is hardly time to put in
+action--seeing Pierre, touched his sleeve with her finger, saying:
+
+"Wait a bit, I have something in view for you this evening." (She
+glanced at Helene and smiled at her.) "My dear Helene, be charitable to
+my poor aunt who adores you. Go and keep her company for ten minutes.
+And that it will not be too dull, here is the dear count who will not
+refuse to accompany you."
+
+The beauty went to the aunt, but Anna Pavlovna detained Pierre, looking
+as if she had to give some final necessary instructions.
+
+"Isn't she exquisite?" she said to Pierre, pointing to the stately
+beauty as she glided away. "And how she carries herself! For so young a
+girl, such tact, such masterly perfection of manner! It comes from her
+heart. Happy the man who wins her! With her the least worldly of men
+would occupy a most brilliant position in society. Don't you think so? I
+only wanted to know your opinion," and Anna Pavlovna let Pierre go.
+
+Pierre, in reply, sincerely agreed with her as to Helene's perfection of
+manner. If he ever thought of Helene, it was just of her beauty and her
+remarkable skill in appearing silently dignified in society.
+
+The old aunt received the two young people in her corner, but seemed
+desirous of hiding her adoration for Helene and inclined rather to show
+her fear of Anna Pavlovna. She looked at her niece, as if inquiring what
+she was to do with these people. On leaving them, Anna Pavlovna again
+touched Pierre's sleeve, saying: "I hope you won't say that it is dull
+in my house again," and she glanced at Helene.
+
+Helene smiled, with a look implying that she did not admit the
+possibility of anyone seeing her without being enchanted. The aunt
+coughed, swallowed, and said in French that she was very pleased to see
+Helene, then she turned to Pierre with the same words of welcome and the
+same look. In the middle of a dull and halting conversation, Helene
+turned to Pierre with the beautiful bright smile that she gave to
+everyone. Pierre was so used to that smile, and it had so little meaning
+for him, that he paid no attention to it. The aunt was just speaking of
+a collection of snuffboxes that had belonged to Pierre's father, Count
+Bezukhov, and showed them her own box. Princess Helene asked to see the
+portrait of the aunt's husband on the box lid.
+
+"That is probably the work of Vinesse," said Pierre, mentioning a
+celebrated miniaturist, and he leaned over the table to take the
+snuffbox while trying to hear what was being said at the other table.
+
+He half rose, meaning to go round, but the aunt handed him the snuffbox,
+passing it across Helene's back. Helene stooped forward to make room,
+and looked round with a smile. She was, as always at evening parties,
+wearing a dress such as was then fashionable, cut very low at front and
+back. Her bust, which had always seemed like marble to Pierre, was so
+close to him that his shortsighted eyes could not but perceive the
+living charm of her neck and shoulders, so near to his lips that he need
+only have bent his head a little to have touched them. He was conscious
+of the warmth of her body, the scent of perfume, and the creaking of her
+corset as she moved. He did not see her marble beauty forming a complete
+whole with her dress, but all the charm of her body only covered by her
+garments. And having once seen this he could not help being aware of it,
+just as we cannot renew an illusion we have once seen through.
+
+"So you have never noticed before how beautiful I am?" Helene seemed to
+say. "You had not noticed that I am a woman? Yes, I am a woman who may
+belong to anyone--to you too," said her glance. And at that moment
+Pierre felt that Helene not only could, but must, be his wife, and that
+it could not be otherwise.
+
+He knew this at that moment as surely as if he had been standing at the
+altar with her. How and when this would be he did not know, he did not
+even know if it would be a good thing (he even felt, he knew not why,
+that it would be a bad thing), but he knew it would happen.
+
+Pierre dropped his eyes, lifted them again, and wished once more to see
+her as a distant beauty far removed from him, as he had seen her every
+day until then, but he could no longer do it. He could not, any more
+than a man who has been looking at a tuft of steppe grass through the
+mist and taking it for a tree can again take it for a tree after he has
+once recognized it to be a tuft of grass. She was terribly close to him.
+She already had power over him, and between them there was no longer any
+barrier except the barrier of his own will.
+
+"Well, I will leave you in your little corner," came Anna Pavlovna's
+voice, "I see you are all right there."
+
+And Pierre, anxiously trying to remember whether he had done anything
+reprehensible, looked round with a blush. It seemed to him that everyone
+knew what had happened to him as he knew it himself.
+
+A little later when he went up to the large circle, Anna Pavlovna said
+to him: "I hear you are refitting your Petersburg house?"
+
+This was true. The architect had told him that it was necessary, and
+Pierre, without knowing why, was having his enormous Petersburg house
+done up.
+
+"That's a good thing, but don't move from Prince Vasili's. It is good to
+have a friend like the prince," she said, smiling at Prince Vasili. "I
+know something about that. Don't I? And you are still so young. You need
+advice. Don't be angry with me for exercising an old woman's privilege."
+
+She paused, as women always do, expecting something after they have
+mentioned their age. "If you marry it will be a different thing," she
+continued, uniting them both in one glance. Pierre did not look at
+Helene nor she at him. But she was just as terribly close to him. He
+muttered something and colored.
+
+When he got home he could not sleep for a long time for thinking of what
+had happened. What had happened? Nothing. He had merely understood that
+the woman he had known as a child, of whom when her beauty was mentioned
+he had said absent-mindedly: "Yes, she's good looking," he had
+understood that this woman might belong to him.
+
+"But she's stupid. I have myself said she is stupid," he thought. "There
+is something nasty, something wrong, in the feeling she excites in me. I
+have been told that her brother Anatole was in love with her and she
+with him, that there was quite a scandal and that that's why he was sent
+away. Hippolyte is her brother... Prince Vasili is her father... It's
+bad...." he reflected, but while he was thinking this (the reflection
+was still incomplete), he caught himself smiling and was conscious that
+another line of thought had sprung up, and while thinking of her
+worthlessness he was also dreaming of how she would be his wife, how she
+would love him become quite different, and how all he had thought and
+heard of her might be false. And he again saw her not as the daughter of
+Prince Vasili, but visualized her whole body only veiled by its gray
+dress. "But no! Why did this thought never occur to me before?" and
+again he told himself that it was impossible, that there would be
+something unnatural, and as it seemed to him dishonorable, in this
+marriage. He recalled her former words and looks and the words and looks
+of those who had seen them together. He recalled Anna Pavlovna's words
+and looks when she spoke to him about his house, recalled thousands of
+such hints from Prince Vasili and others, and was seized by terror lest
+he had already, in some way, bound himself to do something that was
+evidently wrong and that he ought not to do. But at the very time he was
+expressing this conviction to himself, in another part of his mind her
+image rose in all its womanly beauty.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+In November, 1805, Prince Vasili had to go on a tour of inspection in
+four different provinces. He had arranged this for himself so as to
+visit his neglected estates at the same time and pick up his son Anatole
+where his regiment was stationed, and take him to visit Prince Nicholas
+Bolkonski in order to arrange a match for him with the daughter of that
+rich old man. But before leaving home and undertaking these new affairs,
+Prince Vasili had to settle matters with Pierre, who, it is true, had
+latterly spent whole days at home, that is, in Prince Vasili's house
+where he was staying, and had been absurd, excited, and foolish in
+Helene's presence (as a lover should be), but had not yet proposed to
+her.
+
+"This is all very fine, but things must be settled," said Prince Vasili
+to himself, with a sorrowful sigh, one morning, feeling that Pierre who
+was under such obligations to him ("But never mind that") was not
+behaving very well in this matter. "Youth, frivolity... well, God be
+with him," thought he, relishing his own goodness of heart, "but it must
+be brought to a head. The day after tomorrow will be Lelya's name day. I
+will invite two or three people, and if he does not understand what he
+ought to do then it will be my affair--yes, my affair. I am her father."
+
+Six weeks after Anna Pavlovna's "At Home" and after the sleepless night
+when he had decided that to marry Helene would be a calamity and that he
+ought to avoid her and go away, Pierre, despite that decision, had not
+left Prince Vasili's and felt with terror that in people's eyes he was
+every day more and more connected with her, that it was impossible for
+him to return to his former conception of her, that he could not break
+away from her, and that though it would be a terrible thing he would
+have to unite his fate with hers. He might perhaps have been able to
+free himself but that Prince Vasili (who had rarely before given
+receptions) now hardly let a day go by without having an evening party
+at which Pierre had to be present unless he wished to spoil the general
+pleasure and disappoint everyone's expectation. Prince Vasili, in the
+rare moments when he was at home, would take Pierre's hand in passing
+and draw it downwards, or absent-mindedly hold out his wrinkled, clean-
+shaven cheek for Pierre to kiss and would say: "Till tomorrow," or, "Be
+in to dinner or I shall not see you," or, "I am staying in for your
+sake," and so on. And though Prince Vasili, when he stayed in (as he
+said) for Pierre's sake, hardly exchanged a couple of words with him,
+Pierre felt unable to disappoint him. Every day he said to himself one
+and the same thing: "It is time I understood her and made up my mind
+what she really is. Was I mistaken before, or am I mistaken now? No, she
+is not stupid, she is an excellent girl," he sometimes said to himself
+"she never makes a mistake, never says anything stupid. She says little,
+but what she does say is always clear and simple, so she is not stupid.
+She never was abashed and is not abashed now, so she cannot be a bad
+woman!" He had often begun to make reflections or think aloud in her
+company, and she had always answered him either by a brief but
+appropriate remark--showing that it did not interest her--or by a silent
+look and smile which more palpably than anything else showed Pierre her
+superiority. She was right in regarding all arguments as nonsense in
+comparison with that smile.
+
+She always addressed him with a radiantly confiding smile meant for him
+alone, in which there was something more significant than in the general
+smile that usually brightened her face. Pierre knew that everyone was
+waiting for him to say a word and cross a certain line, and he knew that
+sooner or later he would step across it, but an incomprehensible terror
+seized him at the thought of that dreadful step. A thousand times during
+that month and a half while he felt himself drawn nearer and nearer to
+that dreadful abyss, Pierre said to himself: "What am I doing? I need
+resolution. Can it be that I have none?"
+
+He wished to take a decision, but felt with dismay that in this matter
+he lacked that strength of will which he had known in himself and really
+possessed. Pierre was one of those who are only strong when they feel
+themselves quite innocent, and since that day when he was overpowered by
+a feeling of desire while stooping over the snuffbox at Anna Pavlovna's,
+an unacknowledged sense of the guilt of that desire paralyzed his will.
+
+On Helene's name day, a small party of just their own people--as his
+wife said--met for supper at Prince Vasili's. All these friends and
+relations had been given to understand that the fate of the young girl
+would be decided that evening. The visitors were seated at supper.
+Princess Kuragina, a portly imposing woman who had once been handsome,
+was sitting at the head of the table. On either side of her sat the more
+important guests--an old general and his wife, and Anna Pavlovna
+Scherer. At the other end sat the younger and less important guests, and
+there too sat the members of the family, and Pierre and Helene, side by
+side. Prince Vasili was not having any supper: he went round the table
+in a merry mood, sitting down now by one, now by another, of the guests.
+To each of them he made some careless and agreeable remark except to
+Pierre and Helene, whose presence he seemed not to notice. He enlivened
+the whole party. The wax candles burned brightly, the silver and crystal
+gleamed, so did the ladies' toilets and the gold and silver of the men's
+epaulets; servants in scarlet liveries moved round the table, the
+clatter of plates, knives, and glasses mingled with the animated hum of
+several conversations. At one end of the table, the old chamberlain was
+heard assuring an old baroness that he loved her passionately, at which
+she laughed; at the other could be heard the story of the misfortunes of
+some Mary Viktorovna or other. At the center of the table, Prince Vasili
+attracted everybody's attention. With a facetious smile on his face, he
+was telling the ladies about last Wednesday's meeting of the Imperial
+Council, at which Sergey Kuzmich Vyazmitinov, the new military governor
+general of Petersburg, had received and read the then famous rescript of
+the Emperor Alexander from the army to Sergey Kuzmich, in which the
+Emperor said that he was receiving from all sides declarations of the
+people's loyalty, that the declaration from Petersburg gave him
+particular pleasure, and that he was proud to be at the head of such a
+nation and would endeavor to be worthy of it. This rescript began with
+the words: "Sergey Kuzmich, From all sides reports reach me," etc.
+
+"Well, and so he never got farther than: 'Sergey Kuzmich'?" asked one of
+the ladies.
+
+"Exactly, not a hair's breadth farther," answered Prince Vasili,
+laughing, "'Sergey Kuzmich... From all sides... From all sides... Sergey
+Kuzmich...' Poor Vyazmitinov could not get any farther! He began the
+rescript again and again, but as soon as he uttered 'Sergey' he sobbed,
+'Kuz-mi-ch,' tears, and 'From all sides' was smothered in sobs and he
+could get no farther. And again his handkerchief, and again: 'Sergey
+Kuzmich, From all sides,'... and tears, till at last somebody else was
+asked to read it."
+
+"Kuzmich... From all sides... and then tears," someone repeated
+laughing.
+
+"Don't be unkind," cried Anna Pavlovna from her end of the table holding
+up a threatening finger. "He is such a worthy and excellent man, our
+dear Vyazmitinov...."
+
+Everybody laughed a great deal. At the head of the table, where the
+honored guests sat, everyone seemed to be in high spirits and under the
+influence of a variety of exciting sensations. Only Pierre and Helene
+sat silently side by side almost at the bottom of the table, a
+suppressed smile brightening both their faces, a smile that had nothing
+to do with Sergey Kuzmich--a smile of bashfulness at their own feelings.
+But much as all the rest laughed, talked, and joked, much as they
+enjoyed their Rhine wine, saute, and ices, and however they avoided
+looking at the young couple, and heedless and unobservant as they seemed
+of them, one could feel by the occasional glances they gave that the
+story about Sergey Kuzmich, the laughter, and the food were all a
+pretense, and that the whole attention of that company was directed to--
+Pierre and Helene. Prince Vasili mimicked the sobbing of Sergey Kuzmich
+and at the same time his eyes glanced toward his daughter, and while he
+laughed the expression on his face clearly said: "Yes... it's getting
+on, it will all be settled today." Anna Pavlovna threatened him on
+behalf of "our dear Vyazmitinov," and in her eyes, which, for an
+instant, glanced at Pierre, Prince Vasili read a congratulation on his
+future son-in-law and on his daughter's happiness. The old princess
+sighed sadly as she offered some wine to the old lady next to her and
+glanced angrily at her daughter, and her sigh seemed to say: "Yes,
+there's nothing left for you and me but to sip sweet wine, my dear, now
+that the time has come for these young ones to be thus boldly,
+provocatively happy." "And what nonsense all this is that I am saying!"
+thought a diplomatist, glancing at the happy faces of the lovers.
+"That's happiness!"
+
+Into the insignificant, trifling, and artificial interests uniting that
+society had entered the simple feeling of the attraction of a healthy
+and handsome young man and woman for one another. And this human feeling
+dominated everything else and soared above all their affected chatter.
+Jests fell flat, news was not interesting, and the animation was
+evidently forced. Not only the guests but even the footmen waiting at
+table seemed to feel this, and they forgot their duties as they looked
+at the beautiful Helene with her radiant face and at the red, broad, and
+happy though uneasy face of Pierre. It seemed as if the very light of
+the candles was focused on those two happy faces alone.
+
+Pierre felt that he was the center of it all, and this both pleased and
+embarrassed him. He was like a man entirely absorbed in some occupation.
+He did not see, hear, or understand anything clearly. Only now and then
+detached ideas and impressions from the world of reality shot
+unexpectedly through his mind.
+
+"So it is all finished!" he thought. "And how has it all happened? How
+quickly! Now I know that not because of her alone, nor of myself alone,
+but because of everyone, it must inevitably come about. They are all
+expecting it, they are so sure that it will happen that I cannot, I
+cannot, disappoint them. But how will it be? I do not know, but it will
+certainly happen!" thought Pierre, glancing at those dazzling shoulders
+close to his eyes.
+
+Or he would suddenly feel ashamed of he knew not what. He felt it
+awkward to attract everyone's attention and to be considered a lucky man
+and, with his plain face, to be looked on as a sort of Paris possessed
+of a Helen. "But no doubt it always is and must be so!" he consoled
+himself. "And besides, what have I done to bring it about? How did it
+begin? I traveled from Moscow with Prince Vasili. Then there was
+nothing. So why should I not stay at his house? Then I played cards with
+her and picked up her reticule and drove out with her. How did it begin,
+when did it all come about?" And here he was sitting by her side as her
+betrothed, seeing, hearing, feeling her nearness, her breathing, her
+movements, her beauty. Then it would suddenly seem to him that it was
+not she but he was so unusually beautiful, and that that was why they
+all looked so at him, and flattered by this general admiration he would
+expand his chest, raise his head, and rejoice at his good fortune.
+Suddenly he heard a familiar voice repeating something to him a second
+time. But Pierre was so absorbed that he did not understand what was
+said.
+
+"I am asking you when you last heard from Bolkonski," repeated Prince
+Vasili a third time. "How absent-minded you are, my dear fellow."
+
+Prince Vasili smiled, and Pierre noticed that everyone was smiling at
+him and Helene. "Well, what of it, if you all know it?" thought Pierre.
+"What of it? It's the truth!" and he himself smiled his gentle childlike
+smile, and Helene smiled too.
+
+"When did you get the letter? Was it from Olmutz?" repeated Prince
+Vasili, who pretended to want to know this in order to settle a dispute.
+
+"How can one talk or think of such trifles?" thought Pierre.
+
+"Yes, from Olmutz," he answered, with a sigh.
+
+After supper Pierre with his partner followed the others into the
+drawing room. The guests began to disperse, some without taking leave of
+Helene. Some, as if unwilling to distract her from an important
+occupation, came up to her for a moment and made haste to go away,
+refusing to let her see them off. The diplomatist preserved a mournful
+silence as he left the drawing room. He pictured the vanity of his
+diplomatic career in comparison with Pierre's happiness. The old general
+grumbled at his wife when she asked how his leg was. "Oh, the old fool,"
+he thought. "That Princess Helene will be beautiful still when she's
+fifty."
+
+"I think I may congratulate you," whispered Anna Pavlovna to the old
+princess, kissing her soundly. "If I hadn't this headache I'd have
+stayed longer."
+
+The old princess did not reply, she was tormented by jealousy of her
+daughter's happiness.
+
+While the guests were taking their leave Pierre remained for a long time
+alone with Helene in the little drawing room where they were sitting. He
+had often before, during the last six weeks, remained alone with her,
+but had never spoken to her of love. Now he felt that it was inevitable,
+but he could not make up his mind to take the final step. He felt
+ashamed; he felt that he was occupying someone else's place here beside
+Helene. "This happiness is not for you," some inner voice whispered to
+him. "This happiness is for those who have not in them what there is in
+you."
+
+But, as he had to say something, he began by asking her whether she was
+satisfied with the party. She replied in her usual simple manner that
+this name day of hers had been one of the pleasantest she had ever had.
+
+Some of the nearest relatives had not yet left. They were sitting in the
+large drawing room. Prince Vasili came up to Pierre with languid
+footsteps. Pierre rose and said it was getting late. Prince Vasili gave
+him a look of stern inquiry, as though what Pierre had just said was so
+strange that one could not take it in. But then the expression of
+severity changed, and he drew Pierre's hand downwards, made him sit
+down, and smiled affectionately.
+
+"Well, Lelya?" he asked, turning instantly to his daughter and
+addressing her with the careless tone of habitual tenderness natural to
+parents who have petted their children from babyhood, but which Prince
+Vasili had only acquired by imitating other parents.
+
+And he again turned to Pierre.
+
+"Sergey Kuzmich--From all sides-" he said, unbuttoning the top button of
+his waistcoat.
+
+Pierre smiled, but his smile showed that he knew it was not the story
+about Sergey Kuzmich that interested Prince Vasili just then, and Prince
+Vasili saw that Pierre knew this. He suddenly muttered something and
+went away. It seemed to Pierre that even the prince was disconcerted.
+The sight of the discomposure of that old man of the world touched
+Pierre: he looked at Helene and she too seemed disconcerted, and her
+look seemed to say: "Well, it is your own fault."
+
+"The step must be taken but I cannot, I cannot!" thought Pierre, and he
+again began speaking about indifferent matters, about Sergey Kuzmich,
+asking what the point of the story was as he had not heard it properly.
+Helene answered with a smile that she too had missed it.
+
+When Prince Vasili returned to the drawing room, the princess, his wife,
+was talking in low tones to the elderly lady about Pierre.
+
+"Of course, it is a very brilliant match, but happiness, my dear..."
+
+"Marriages are made in heaven," replied the elderly lady.
+
+Prince Vasili passed by, seeming not to hear the ladies, and sat down on
+a sofa in a far corner of the room. He closed his eyes and seemed to be
+dozing. His head sank forward and then he roused himself.
+
+"Aline," he said to his wife, "go and see what they are about."
+
+The princess went up to the door, passed by it with a dignified and
+indifferent air, and glanced into the little drawing room. Pierre and
+Helene still sat talking just as before.
+
+"Still the same," she said to her husband.
+
+Prince Vasili frowned, twisting his mouth, his cheeks quivered and his
+face assumed the coarse, unpleasant expression peculiar to him. Shaking
+himself, he rose, threw back his head, and with resolute steps went past
+the ladies into the little drawing room. With quick steps he went
+joyfully up to Pierre. His face was so unusually triumphant that Pierre
+rose in alarm on seeing it.
+
+"Thank God!" said Prince Vasili. "My wife has told me everything!" (He
+put one arm around Pierre and the other around his daughter.)--"My dear
+boy... Lelya... I am very pleased." (His voice trembled.) "I loved your
+father... and she will make you a good wife... God bless you!..."
+
+He embraced his daughter, and then again Pierre, and kissed him with his
+malodorous mouth. Tears actually moistened his cheeks.
+
+"Princess, come here!" he shouted.
+
+The old princess came in and also wept. The elderly lady was using her
+handkerchief too. Pierre was kissed, and he kissed the beautiful
+Helene's hand several times. After a while they were left alone again.
+
+"All this had to be and could not be otherwise," thought Pierre, "so it
+is useless to ask whether it is good or bad. It is good because it's
+definite and one is rid of the old tormenting doubt." Pierre held the
+hand of his betrothed in silence, looking at her beautiful bosom as it
+rose and fell.
+
+"Helene!" he said aloud and paused.
+
+"Something special is always said in such cases," he thought, but could
+not remember what it was that people say. He looked at her face. She
+drew nearer to him. Her face flushed.
+
+"Oh, take those off... those..." she said, pointing to his spectacles.
+
+Pierre took them off, and his eyes, besides the strange look eyes have
+from which spectacles have just been removed, had also a frightened and
+inquiring look. He was about to stoop over her hand and kiss it, but
+with a rapid, almost brutal movement of her head, she intercepted his
+lips and met them with her own. Her face struck Pierre, by its altered,
+unpleasantly excited expression.
+
+"It is too late now, it's done; besides I love her," thought Pierre.
+
+"Je vous aime!" * he said, remembering what has to be said at such
+moments: but his words sounded so weak that he felt ashamed of himself.
+
+
+* "I love you."
+
+Six weeks later he was married, and settled in Count Bezukhov's large,
+newly furnished Petersburg house, the happy possessor, as people said,
+of a wife who was a celebrated beauty and of millions of money.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+Old Prince Nicholas Bolkonski received a letter from Prince Vasili in
+November, 1805, announcing that he and his son would be paying him a
+visit. "I am starting on a journey of inspection, and of course I shall
+think nothing of an extra seventy miles to come and see you at the same
+time, my honored benefactor," wrote Prince Vasili. "My son Anatole is
+accompanying me on his way to the army, so I hope you will allow him
+personally to express the deep respect that, emulating his father, he
+feels for you."
+
+"It seems that there will be no need to bring Mary out, suitors are
+coming to us of their own accord," incautiously remarked the little
+princess on hearing the news.
+
+Prince Nicholas frowned, but said nothing.
+
+A fortnight after the letter Prince Vasili's servants came one evening
+in advance of him, and he and his son arrived next day.
+
+Old Bolkonski had always had a poor opinion of Prince Vasili's
+character, but more so recently, since in the new reigns of Paul and
+Alexander Prince Vasili had risen to high position and honors. And now,
+from the hints contained in his letter and given by the little princess,
+he saw which way the wind was blowing, and his low opinion changed into
+a feeling of contemptuous ill will. He snorted whenever he mentioned
+him. On the day of Prince Vasili's arrival, Prince Bolkonski was
+particularly discontented and out of temper. Whether he was in a bad
+temper because Prince Vasili was coming, or whether his being in a bad
+temper made him specially annoyed at Prince Vasili's visit, he was in a
+bad temper, and in the morning Tikhon had already advised the architect
+not to go to the prince with his report.
+
+"Do you hear how he's walking?" said Tikhon, drawing the architect's
+attention to the sound of the prince's footsteps. "Stepping flat on his
+heels--we know what that means...."
+
+However, at nine o'clock the prince, in his velvet coat with a sable
+collar and cap, went out for his usual walk. It had snowed the day
+before and the path to the hothouse, along which the prince was in the
+habit of walking, had been swept: the marks of the broom were still
+visible in the snow and a shovel had been left sticking in one of the
+soft snowbanks that bordered both sides of the path. The prince went
+through the conservatories, the serfs' quarters, and the outbuildings,
+frowning and silent.
+
+"Can a sleigh pass?" he asked his overseer, a venerable man, resembling
+his master in manners and looks, who was accompanying him back to the
+house.
+
+"The snow is deep. I am having the avenue swept, your honor."
+
+The prince bowed his head and went up to the porch. "God be thanked,"
+thought the overseer, "the storm has blown over!"
+
+"It would have been hard to drive up, your honor," he added. "I heard,
+your honor, that a minister is coming to visit your honor."
+
+The prince turned round to the overseer and fixed his eyes on him,
+frowning.
+
+"What? A minister? What minister? Who gave orders?" he said in his
+shrill, harsh voice. "The road is not swept for the princess my
+daughter, but for a minister! For me, there are no ministers!"
+
+"Your honor, I thought..."
+
+"You thought!" shouted the prince, his words coming more and more
+rapidly and indistinctly. "You thought!... Rascals! Blackguards!... I'll
+teach you to think!" and lifting his stick he swung it and would have
+hit Alpatych, the overseer, had not the latter instinctively avoided the
+blow. "Thought... Blackguards..." shouted the prince rapidly.
+
+But although Alpatych, frightened at his own temerity in avoiding the
+stroke, came up to the prince, bowing his bald head resignedly before
+him, or perhaps for that very reason, the prince, though he continued to
+shout: "Blackguards!... Throw the snow back on the road!" did not lift
+his stick again but hurried into the house.
+
+Before dinner, Princess Mary and Mademoiselle Bourienne, who knew that
+the prince was in a bad humor, stood awaiting him; Mademoiselle
+Bourienne with a radiant face that said: "I know nothing, I am the same
+as usual," and Princess Mary pale, frightened, and with downcast eyes.
+What she found hardest to bear was to know that on such occasions she
+ought to behave like Mademoiselle Bourienne, but could not. She thought:
+"If I seem not to notice he will think that I do not sympathize with
+him; if I seem sad and out of spirits myself, he will say (as he has
+done before) that I'm in the dumps."
+
+The prince looked at his daughter's frightened face and snorted.
+
+"Fool... or dummy!" he muttered.
+
+"And the other one is not here. They've been telling tales," he thought-
+-referring to the little princess who was not in the dining room.
+
+"Where is the princess?" he asked. "Hiding?"
+
+"She is not very well," answered Mademoiselle Bourienne with a bright
+smile, "so she won't come down. It is natural in her state."
+
+"Hm! Hm!" muttered the prince, sitting down.
+
+His plate seemed to him not quite clean, and pointing to a spot he flung
+it away. Tikhon caught it and handed it to a footman. The little
+princess was not unwell, but had such an overpowering fear of the prince
+that, hearing he was in a bad humor, she had decided not to appear.
+
+"I am afraid for the baby," she said to Mademoiselle Bourienne: "Heaven
+knows what a fright might do."
+
+In general at Bald Hills the little princess lived in constant fear, and
+with a sense of antipathy to the old prince which she did not realize
+because the fear was so much the stronger feeling. The prince
+reciprocated this antipathy, but it was overpowered by his contempt for
+her. When the little princess had grown accustomed to life at Bald
+Hills, she took a special fancy to Mademoiselle Bourienne, spent whole
+days with her, asked her to sleep in her room, and often talked with her
+about the old prince and criticized him.
+
+"So we are to have visitors, mon prince?" remarked Mademoiselle
+Bourienne, unfolding her white napkin with her rosy fingers. "His
+Excellency Prince Vasili Kuragin and his son, I understand?" she said
+inquiringly.
+
+"Hm!--his excellency is a puppy.... I got him his appointment in the
+service," said the prince disdainfully. "Why his son is coming I don't
+understand. Perhaps Princess Elizabeth and Princess Mary know. I don't
+want him." (He looked at his blushing daughter.) "Are you unwell today?
+Eh? Afraid of the 'minister' as that idiot Alpatych called him this
+morning?"
+
+"No, mon pere."
+
+Though Mademoiselle Bourienne had been so unsuccessful in her choice of
+a subject, she did not stop talking, but chattered about the
+conservatories and the beauty of a flower that had just opened, and
+after the soup the prince became more genial.
+
+After dinner, he went to see his daughter-in-law. The little princess
+was sitting at a small table, chattering with Masha, her maid. She grew
+pale on seeing her father-in-law.
+
+She was much altered. She was now plain rather than pretty. Her cheeks
+had sunk, her lip was drawn up, and her eyes drawn down.
+
+"Yes, I feel a kind of oppression," she said in reply to the prince's
+question as to how she felt.
+
+"Do you want anything?"
+
+"No, merci, mon pere."
+
+"Well, all right, all right."
+
+He left the room and went to the waiting room where Alpatych stood with
+bowed head.
+
+"Has the snow been shoveled back?"
+
+"Yes, your excellency. Forgive me for heaven's sake... It was only my
+stupidity."
+
+"All right, all right," interrupted the prince, and laughing his
+unnatural way, he stretched out his hand for Alpatych to kiss, and then
+proceeded to his study.
+
+Prince Vasili arrived that evening. He was met in the avenue by coachmen
+and footmen, who, with loud shouts, dragged his sleighs up to one of the
+lodges over the road purposely laden with snow.
+
+Prince Vasili and Anatole had separate rooms assigned to them.
+
+Anatole, having taken off his overcoat, sat with arms akimbo before a
+table on a corner of which he smilingly and absent-mindedly fixed his
+large and handsome eyes. He regarded his whole life as a continual round
+of amusement which someone for some reason had to provide for him. And
+he looked on this visit to a churlish old man and a rich and ugly
+heiress in the same way. All this might, he thought, turn out very well
+and amusingly. "And why not marry her if she really has so much money?
+That never does any harm," thought Anatole.
+
+He shaved and scented himself with the care and elegance which had
+become habitual to him and, his handsome head held high, entered his
+father's room with the good-humored and victorious air natural to him.
+Prince Vasili's two valets were busy dressing him, and he looked round
+with much animation and cheerfully nodded to his son as the latter
+entered, as if to say: "Yes, that's how I want you to look."
+
+"I say, Father, joking apart, is she very hideous?" Anatole asked, as if
+continuing a conversation the subject of which had often been mentioned
+during the journey.
+
+"Enough! What nonsense! Above all, try to be respectful and cautious
+with the old prince."
+
+"If he starts a row I'll go away," said Prince Anatole. "I can't bear
+those old men! Eh?"
+
+"Remember, for you everything depends on this."
+
+In the meantime, not only was it known in the maidservants' rooms that
+the minister and his son had arrived, but the appearance of both had
+been minutely described. Princess Mary was sitting alone in her room,
+vainly trying to master her agitation.
+
+"Why did they write, why did Lise tell me about it? It can never
+happen!" she said, looking at herself in the glass. "How shall I enter
+the drawing room? Even if I like him I can't now be myself with him."
+The mere thought of her father's look filled her with terror. The little
+princess and Mademoiselle Bourienne had already received from Masha, the
+lady's maid, the necessary report of how handsome the minister's son
+was, with his rosy cheeks and dark eyebrows, and with what difficulty
+the father had dragged his legs upstairs while the son had followed him
+like an eagle, three steps at a time. Having received this information,
+the little princess and Mademoiselle Bourienne, whose chattering voices
+had reached her from the corridor, went into Princess Mary's room.
+
+"You know they've come, Marie?" said the little princess, waddling in,
+and sinking heavily into an armchair.
+
+She was no longer in the loose gown she generally wore in the morning,
+but had on one of her best dresses. Her hair was carefully done and her
+face was animated, which, however, did not conceal its sunken and faded
+outlines. Dressed as she used to be in Petersburg society, it was still
+more noticeable how much plainer she had become. Some unobtrusive touch
+had been added to Mademoiselle Bourienne's toilet which rendered her
+fresh and pretty face yet more attractive.
+
+"What! Are you going to remain as you are, dear princess?" she began.
+"They'll be announcing that the gentlemen are in the drawing room and we
+shall have to go down, and you have not smartened yourself up at all!"
+
+The little princess got up, rang for the maid, and hurriedly and merrily
+began to devise and carry out a plan of how Princess Mary should be
+dressed. Princess Mary's self-esteem was wounded by the fact that the
+arrival of a suitor agitated her, and still more so by both her
+companions' not having the least conception that it could be otherwise.
+To tell them that she felt ashamed for herself and for them would be to
+betray her agitation, while to decline their offers to dress her would
+prolong their banter and insistence. She flushed, her beautiful eyes
+grew dim, red blotches came on her face, and it took on the unattractive
+martyrlike expression it so often wore, as she submitted herself to
+Mademoiselle Bourienne and Lise. Both these women quite sincerely tried
+to make her look pretty. She was so plain that neither of them could
+think of her as a rival, so they began dressing her with perfect
+sincerity, and with the naive and firm conviction women have that dress
+can make a face pretty.
+
+"No really, my dear, this dress is not pretty," said Lise, looking
+sideways at Princess Mary from a little distance. "You have a maroon
+dress, have it fetched. Really! You know the fate of your whole life may
+be at stake. But this one is too light, it's not becoming!"
+
+It was not the dress, but the face and whole figure of Princess Mary
+that was not pretty, but neither Mademoiselle Bourienne nor the little
+princess felt this; they still thought that if a blue ribbon were placed
+in the hair, the hair combed up, and the blue scarf arranged lower on
+the best maroon dress, and so on, all would be well. They forgot that
+the frightened face and the figure could not be altered, and that
+however they might change the setting and adornment of that face, it
+would still remain piteous and plain. After two or three changes to
+which Princess Mary meekly submitted, just as her hair had been arranged
+on the top of her head (a style that quite altered and spoiled her
+looks) and she had put on a maroon dress with a pale-blue scarf, the
+little princess walked twice round her, now adjusting a fold of the
+dress with her little hand, now arranging the scarf and looking at her
+with her head bent first on one side and then on the other.
+
+"No, it will not do," she said decidedly, clasping her hands. "No, Mary,
+really this dress does not suit you. I prefer you in your little gray
+everyday dress. Now please, do it for my sake. Katie," she said to the
+maid, "bring the princess her gray dress, and you'll see, Mademoiselle
+Bourienne, how I shall arrange it," she added, smiling with a foretaste
+of artistic pleasure.
+
+But when Katie brought the required dress, Princess Mary remained
+sitting motionless before the glass, looking at her face, and saw in the
+mirror her eyes full of tears and her mouth quivering, ready to burst
+into sobs.
+
+"Come, dear princess," said Mademoiselle Bourienne, "just one more
+little effort."
+
+The little princess, taking the dress from the maid, came up to Princess
+Mary.
+
+"Well, now we'll arrange something quite simple and becoming," she said.
+
+The three voices, hers, Mademoiselle Bourienne's, and Katie's, who was
+laughing at something, mingled in a merry sound, like the chirping of
+birds.
+
+"No, leave me alone," said Princess Mary.
+
+Her voice sounded so serious and so sad that the chirping of the birds
+was silenced at once. They looked at the beautiful, large, thoughtful
+eyes full of tears and of thoughts, gazing shiningly and imploringly at
+them, and understood that it was useless and even cruel to insist.
+
+"At least, change your coiffure," said the little princess. "Didn't I
+tell you," she went on, turning reproachfully to Mademoiselle Bourienne,
+"Mary's is a face which such a coiffure does not suit in the least. Not
+in the least! Please change it."
+
+"Leave me alone, please leave me alone! It is all quite the same to me,"
+answered a voice struggling with tears.
+
+Mademoiselle Bourienne and the little princess had to own to themselves
+that Princess Mary in this guise looked very plain, worse than usual,
+but it was too late. She was looking at them with an expression they
+both knew, an expression thoughtful and sad. This expression in Princess
+Mary did not frighten them (she never inspired fear in anyone), but they
+knew that when it appeared on her face, she became mute and was not to
+be shaken in her determination.
+
+"You will change it, won't you?" said Lise. And as Princess Mary gave no
+answer, she left the room.
+
+Princess Mary was left alone. She did not comply with Lise's request,
+she not only left her hair as it was, but did not even look in her
+glass. Letting her arms fall helplessly, she sat with downcast eyes and
+pondered. A husband, a man, a strong dominant and strangely attractive
+being rose in her imagination, and carried her into a totally different
+happy world of his own. She fancied a child, her own--such as she had
+seen the day before in the arms of her nurse's daughter--at her own
+breast, the husband standing by and gazing tenderly at her and the
+child. "But no, it is impossible, I am too ugly," she thought.
+
+"Please come to tea. The prince will be out in a moment," came the
+maid's voice at the door.
+
+She roused herself, and felt appalled at what she had been thinking, and
+before going down she went into the room where the icons hung and, her
+eyes fixed on the dark face of a large icon of the Saviour lit by a
+lamp, she stood before it with folded hands for a few moments. A painful
+doubt filled her soul. Could the joy of love, of earthly love for a man,
+be for her? In her thoughts of marriage Princess Mary dreamed of
+happiness and of children, but her strongest, most deeply hidden longing
+was for earthly love. The more she tried to hide this feeling from
+others and even from herself, the stronger it grew. "O God," she said,
+"how am I to stifle in my heart these temptations of the devil? How am I
+to renounce forever these vile fancies, so as peacefully to fulfill Thy
+will?" And scarcely had she put that question than God gave her the
+answer in her own heart. "Desire nothing for thyself, seek nothing, be
+not anxious or envious. Man's future and thy own fate must remain hidden
+from thee, but live so that thou mayest be ready for anything. If it be
+God's will to prove thee in the duties of marriage, be ready to fulfill
+His will." With this consoling thought (but yet with a hope for the
+fulfillment of her forbidden earthly longing) Princess Mary sighed, and
+having crossed herself went down, thinking neither of her gown and
+coiffure nor of how she would go in nor of what she would say. What
+could all that matter in comparison with the will of God, without Whose
+care not a hair of man's head can fall?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+When Princess Mary came down, Prince Vasili and his son were already in
+the drawing room, talking to the little princess and Mademoiselle
+Bourienne. When she entered with her heavy step, treading on her heels,
+the gentlemen and Mademoiselle Bourienne rose and the little princess,
+indicating her to the gentlemen, said: "Voila Marie!" Princess Mary saw
+them all and saw them in detail. She saw Prince Vasili's face, serious
+for an instant at the sight of her, but immediately smiling again, and
+the little princess curiously noting the impression "Marie" produced on
+the visitors. And she saw Mademoiselle Bourienne, with her ribbon and
+pretty face, and her unusually animated look which was fixed on him, but
+him she could not see, she only saw something large, brilliant, and
+handsome moving toward her as she entered the room. Prince Vasili
+approached first, and she kissed the bold forehead that bent over her
+hand and answered his question by saying that, on the contrary, she
+remembered him quite well. Then Anatole came up to her. She still could
+not see him. She only felt a soft hand taking hers firmly, and she
+touched with her lips a white forehead, over which was beautiful light-
+brown hair smelling of pomade. When she looked up at him she was struck
+by his beauty. Anatole stood with his right thumb under a button of his
+uniform, his chest expanded and his back drawn in, slightly swinging one
+foot, and, with his head a little bent, looked with beaming face at the
+princess without speaking and evidently not thinking about her at all.
+Anatole was not quick-witted, nor ready or eloquent in conversation, but
+he had the faculty, so invaluable in society, of composure and
+imperturbable self-possession. If a man lacking in self-confidence
+remains dumb on a first introduction and betrays a consciousness of the
+impropriety of such silence and an anxiety to find something to say, the
+effect is bad. But Anatole was dumb, swung his foot, and smilingly
+examined the princess' hair. It was evident that he could be silent in
+this way for a very long time. "If anyone finds this silence
+inconvenient, let him talk, but I don't want to," he seemed to say.
+Besides this, in his behavior to women Anatole had a manner which
+particularly inspires in them curiosity, awe, and even love--a
+supercilious consciousness of his own superiority. It was as if he said
+to them: "I know you, I know you, but why should I bother about you?
+You'd be only too glad, of course." Perhaps he did not really think this
+when he met women--even probably he did not, for in general he thought
+very little--but his looks and manner gave that impression. The princess
+felt this, and as if wishing to show him that she did not even dare
+expect to interest him, she turned to his father. The conversation was
+general and animated, thanks to Princess Lise's voice and little downy
+lip that lifted over her white teeth. She met Prince Vasili with that
+playful manner often employed by lively chatty people, and consisting in
+the assumption that between the person they so address and themselves
+there are some semi-private, long-established jokes and amusing
+reminiscences, though no such reminiscences really exist--just as none
+existed in this case. Prince Vasili readily adopted her tone and the
+little princess also drew Anatole, whom she hardly knew, into these
+amusing recollections of things that had never occurred. Mademoiselle
+Bourienne also shared them and even Princess Mary felt herself
+pleasantly made to share in these merry reminiscences.
+
+"Here at least we shall have the benefit of your company all to
+ourselves, dear prince," said the little princess (of course, in French)
+to Prince Vasili. "It's not as at Annette's * receptions where you
+always ran away; you remember cette chere Annette!"
+
+
+* Anna Pavlovna.
+
+"Ah, but you won't talk politics to me like Annette!"
+
+"And our little tea table?"
+
+"Oh, yes!"
+
+"Why is it you were never at Annette's?" the little princess asked
+Anatole. "Ah, I know, I know," she said with a sly glance, "your brother
+Hippolyte told me about your goings on. Oh!" and she shook her finger at
+him, "I have even heard of your doings in Paris!"
+
+"And didn't Hippolyte tell you?" asked Prince Vasili, turning to his son
+and seizing the little princess' arm as if she would have run away and
+he had just managed to catch her, "didn't he tell you how he himself was
+pining for the dear princess, and how she showed him the door? Oh, she
+is a pearl among women, Princess," he added, turning to Princess Mary.
+
+When Paris was mentioned, Mademoiselle Bourienne for her part seized the
+opportunity of joining in the general current of recollections.
+
+She took the liberty of inquiring whether it was long since Anatole had
+left Paris and how he had liked that city. Anatole answered the
+Frenchwoman very readily and, looking at her with a smile, talked to her
+about her native land. When he saw the pretty little Bourienne, Anatole
+came to the conclusion that he would not find Bald Hills dull either.
+"Not at all bad!" he thought, examining her, "not at all bad, that
+little companion! I hope she will bring her along with her when we're
+married, la petite est gentille." *
+
+
+* The little one is charming.
+
+The old prince dressed leisurely in his study, frowning and considering
+what he was to do. The coming of these visitors annoyed him. "What are
+Prince Vasili and that son of his to me? Prince Vasili is a shallow
+braggart and his son, no doubt, is a fine specimen," he grumbled to
+himself. What angered him was that the coming of these visitors revived
+in his mind an unsettled question he always tried to stifle, one about
+which he always deceived himself. The question was whether he could ever
+bring himself to part from his daughter and give her to a husband. The
+prince never directly asked himself that question, knowing beforehand
+that he would have to answer it justly, and justice clashed not only
+with his feelings but with the very possibility of life. Life without
+Princess Mary, little as he seemed to value her, was unthinkable to him.
+"And why should she marry?" he thought. "To be unhappy for certain.
+There's Lise, married to Andrew--a better husband one would think could
+hardly be found nowadays--but is she contented with her lot? And who
+would marry Marie for love? Plain and awkward! They'll take her for her
+connections and wealth. Are there no women living unmarried, and even
+the happier for it?" So thought Prince Bolkonski while dressing, and yet
+the question he was always putting off demanded an immediate answer.
+Prince Vasili had brought his son with the evident intention of
+proposing, and today or tomorrow he would probably ask for an answer.
+His birth and position in society were not bad. "Well, I've nothing
+against it," the prince said to himself, "but he must be worthy of her.
+And that is what we shall see."
+
+"That is what we shall see! That is what we shall see!" he added aloud.
+
+He entered the drawing room with his usual alert step, glancing rapidly
+round the company. He noticed the change in the little princess' dress,
+Mademoiselle Bourienne's ribbon, Princess Mary's unbecoming coiffure,
+Mademoiselle Bourienne's and Anatole's smiles, and the loneliness of his
+daughter amid the general conversation. "Got herself up like a fool!" he
+thought, looking irritably at her. "She is shameless, and he ignores
+her!"
+
+He went straight up to Prince Vasili.
+
+"Well! How d'ye do? How d'ye do? Glad to see you!"
+
+"Friendship laughs at distance," began Prince Vasili in his usual rapid,
+self-confident, familiar tone. "Here is my second son; please love and
+befriend him."
+
+Prince Bolkonski surveyed Anatole.
+
+"Fine young fellow! Fine young fellow!" he said. "Well, come and kiss
+me," and he offered his cheek.
+
+Anatole kissed the old man, and looked at him with curiosity and perfect
+composure, waiting for a display of the eccentricities his father had
+told him to expect.
+
+Prince Bolkonski sat down in his usual place in the corner of the sofa
+and, drawing up an armchair for Prince Vasili, pointed to it and began
+questioning him about political affairs and news. He seemed to listen
+attentively to what Prince Vasili said, but kept glancing at Princess
+Mary.
+
+"And so they are writing from Potsdam already?" he said, repeating
+Prince Vasili's last words. Then rising, he suddenly went up to his
+daughter.
+
+"Is it for visitors you've got yourself up like that, eh?" said he.
+"Fine, very fine! You have done up your hair in this new way for the
+visitors, and before the visitors I tell you that in future you are
+never to dare to change your way of dress without my consent."
+
+"It was my fault, mon pere," interceded the little princess, with a
+blush.
+
+"You must do as you please," said Prince Bolkonski, bowing to his
+daughter-in-law, "but she need not make a fool of herself, she's plain
+enough as it is."
+
+And he sat down again, paying no more attention to his daughter, who was
+reduced to tears.
+
+"On the contrary, that coiffure suits the princess very well," said
+Prince Vasili.
+
+"Now you, young prince, what's your name?" said Prince Bolkonski,
+turning to Anatole, "come here, let us talk and get acquainted."
+
+"Now the fun begins," thought Anatole, sitting down with a smile beside
+the old prince.
+
+"Well, my dear boy, I hear you've been educated abroad, not taught to
+read and write by the deacon, like your father and me. Now tell me, my
+dear boy, are you serving in the Horse Guards?" asked the old man,
+scrutinizing Anatole closely and intently.
+
+"No, I have been transferred to the line," said Anatole, hardly able to
+restrain his laughter.
+
+"Ah! That's a good thing. So, my dear boy, you wish to serve the Tsar
+and the country? It is wartime. Such a fine fellow must serve. Well, are
+you off to the front?"
+
+"No, Prince, our regiment has gone to the front, but I am attached...
+what is it I am attached to, Papa?" said Anatole, turning to his father
+with a laugh.
+
+"A splendid soldier, splendid! 'What am I attached to!' Ha, ha, ha!"
+laughed Prince Bolkonski, and Anatole laughed still louder. Suddenly
+Prince Bolkonski frowned.
+
+"You may go," he said to Anatole.
+
+Anatole returned smiling to the ladies.
+
+"And so you've had him educated abroad, Prince Vasili, haven't you?"
+said the old prince to Prince Vasili.
+
+"I have done my best for him, and I can assure you the education there
+is much better than ours."
+
+"Yes, everything is different nowadays, everything is changed. The lad's
+a fine fellow, a fine fellow! Well, come with me now." He took Prince
+Vasili's arm and led him to his study. As soon as they were alone
+together, Prince Vasili announced his hopes and wishes to the old
+prince.
+
+"Well, do you think I shall prevent her, that I can't part from her?"
+said the old prince angrily. "What an idea! I'm ready for it tomorrow!
+Only let me tell you, I want to know my son-in-law better. You know my
+principles--everything aboveboard? I will ask her tomorrow in your
+presence; if she is willing, then he can stay on. He can stay and I'll
+see." The old prince snorted. "Let her marry, it's all the same to me!"
+he screamed in the same piercing tone as when parting from his son.
+
+"I will tell you frankly," said Prince Vasili in the tone of a crafty
+man convinced of the futility of being cunning with so keen-sighted a
+companion. "You know, you see right through people. Anatole is no
+genius, but he is an honest, goodhearted lad; an excellent son or
+kinsman."
+
+"All right, all right, we'll see!"
+
+As always happens when women lead lonely lives for any length of time
+without male society, on Anatole's appearance all the three women of
+Prince Bolkonski's household felt that their life had not been real till
+then. Their powers of reasoning, feeling, and observing immediately
+increased tenfold, and their life, which seemed to have been passed in
+darkness, was suddenly lit up by a new brightness, full of significance.
+
+Princess Mary grew quite unconscious of her face and coiffure. The
+handsome open face of the man who might perhaps be her husband absorbed
+all her attention. He seemed to her kind, brave, determined, manly, and
+magnanimous. She felt convinced of that. Thousands of dreams of a future
+family life continually rose in her imagination. She drove them away and
+tried to conceal them.
+
+"But am I not too cold with him?" thought the princess. "I try to be
+reserved because in the depth of my soul I feel too near to him already,
+but then he cannot know what I think of him and may imagine that I do
+not like him."
+
+And Princess Mary tried, but could not manage, to be cordial to her new
+guest. "Poor girl, she's devilish ugly!" thought Anatole.
+
+Mademoiselle Bourienne, also roused to great excitement by Anatole's
+arrival, thought in another way. Of course, she, a handsome young woman
+without any definite position, without relations or even a country, did
+not intend to devote her life to serving Prince Bolkonski, to reading
+aloud to him and being friends with Princess Mary. Mademoiselle
+Bourienne had long been waiting for a Russian prince who, able to
+appreciate at a glance her superiority to the plain, badly dressed,
+ungainly Russian princesses, would fall in love with her and carry her
+off; and here at last was a Russian prince. Mademoiselle Bourienne knew
+a story, heard from her aunt but finished in her own way, which she
+liked to repeat to herself. It was the story of a girl who had been
+seduced, and to whom her poor mother (sa pauvre mere) appeared, and
+reproached her for yielding to a man without being married. Mademoiselle
+Bourienne was often touched to tears as in imagination she told this
+story to him, her seducer. And now he, a real Russian prince, had
+appeared. He would carry her away and then sa pauvre mere would appear
+and he would marry her. So her future shaped itself in Mademoiselle
+Bourienne's head at the very time she was talking to Anatole about
+Paris. It was not calculation that guided her (she did not even for a
+moment consider what she should do), but all this had long been familiar
+to her, and now that Anatole had appeared it just grouped itself around
+him and she wished and tried to please him as much as possible.
+
+The little princess, like an old war horse that hears the trumpet,
+unconsciously and quite forgetting her condition, prepared for the
+familiar gallop of coquetry, without any ulterior motive or any
+struggle, but with naive and lighthearted gaiety.
+
+Although in female society Anatole usually assumed the role of a man
+tired of being run after by women, his vanity was flattered by the
+spectacle of his power over these three women. Besides that, he was
+beginning to feel for the pretty and provocative Mademoiselle Bourienne
+that passionate animal feeling which was apt to master him with great
+suddenness and prompt him to the coarsest and most reckless actions.
+
+After tea, the company went into the sitting room and Princess Mary was
+asked to play on the clavichord. Anatole, laughing and in high spirits,
+came and leaned on his elbows, facing her and beside Mademoiselle
+Bourienne. Princess Mary felt his look with a painfully joyous emotion.
+Her favorite sonata bore her into a most intimately poetic world and the
+look she felt upon her made that world still more poetic. But Anatole's
+expression, though his eyes were fixed on her, referred not to her but
+to the movements of Mademoiselle Bourienne's little foot, which he was
+then touching with his own under the clavichord. Mademoiselle Bourienne
+was also looking at Princess Mary, and in her lovely eyes there was a
+look of fearful joy and hope that was also new to the princess.
+
+"How she loves me!" thought Princess Mary. "How happy I am now, and how
+happy I may be with such a friend and such a husband! Husband? Can it be
+possible?" she thought, not daring to look at his face, but still
+feeling his eyes gazing at her.
+
+In the evening, after supper, when all were about to retire, Anatole
+kissed Princess Mary's hand. She did not know how she found the courage,
+but she looked straight into his handsome face as it came near to her
+shortsighted eyes. Turning from Princess Mary he went up and kissed
+Mademoiselle Bourienne's hand. (This was not etiquette, but then he did
+everything so simply and with such assurance!) Mademoiselle Bourienne
+flushed, and gave the princess a frightened look.
+
+"What delicacy!" thought the princess. "Is it possible that Amelie"
+(Mademoiselle Bourienne) "thinks I could be jealous of her, and not
+value her pure affection and devotion to me?" She went up to her and
+kissed her warmly. Anatole went up to kiss the little princess' hand.
+
+"No! No! No! When your father writes to tell me that you are behaving
+well I will give you my hand to kiss. Not till then!" she said. And
+smilingly raising a finger at him, she left the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+They all separated, but, except Anatole who fell asleep as soon as he
+got into bed, all kept awake a long time that night.
+
+"Is he really to be my husband, this stranger who is so kind--yes, kind,
+that is the chief thing," thought Princess Mary; and fear, which she had
+seldom experienced, came upon her. She feared to look round, it seemed
+to her that someone was there standing behind the screen in the dark
+corner. And this someone was he--the devil--and he was also this man
+with the white forehead, black eyebrows, and red lips.
+
+She rang for her maid and asked her to sleep in her room.
+
+Mademoiselle Bourienne walked up and down the conservatory for a long
+time that evening, vainly expecting someone, now smiling at someone, now
+working herself up to tears with the imaginary words of her pauvre mere
+rebuking her for her fall.
+
+The little princess grumbled to her maid that her bed was badly made.
+She could not lie either on her face or on her side. Every position was
+awkward and uncomfortable, and her burden oppressed her now more than
+ever because Anatole's presence had vividly recalled to her the time
+when she was not like that and when everything was light and gay. She
+sat in an armchair in her dressing jacket and nightcap and Katie, sleepy
+and disheveled, beat and turned the heavy feather bed for the third
+time, muttering to herself.
+
+"I told you it was all lumps and holes!" the little princess repeated.
+"I should be glad enough to fall asleep, so it's not my fault!" and her
+voice quivered like that of a child about to cry.
+
+The old prince did not sleep either. Tikhon, half asleep, heard him
+pacing angrily about and snorting. The old prince felt as though he had
+been insulted through his daughter. The insult was the more pointed
+because it concerned not himself but another, his daughter, whom he
+loved more than himself. He kept telling himself that he would consider
+the whole matter and decide what was right and how he should act, but
+instead of that he only excited himself more and more.
+
+"The first man that turns up--she forgets her father and everything
+else, runs upstairs and does up her hair and wags her tail and is unlike
+herself! Glad to throw her father over! And she knew I should notice it.
+Fr... fr... fr! And don't I see that that idiot had eyes only for
+Bourienne--I shall have to get rid of her. And how is it she has not
+pride enough to see it? If she has no pride for herself she might at
+least have some for my sake! She must be shown that the blockhead thinks
+nothing of her and looks only at Bourienne. No, she has no pride... but
+I'll let her see...."
+
+The old prince knew that if he told his daughter she was making a
+mistake and that Anatole meant to flirt with Mademoiselle Bourienne,
+Princess Mary's self-esteem would be wounded and his point (not to be
+parted from her) would be gained, so pacifying himself with this
+thought, he called Tikhon and began to undress.
+
+"What devil brought them here?" thought he, while Tikhon was putting the
+nightshirt over his dried-up old body and gray-haired chest. "I never
+invited them. They came to disturb my life--and there is not much of it
+left."
+
+"Devil take 'em!" he muttered, while his head was still covered by the
+shirt.
+
+Tikhon knew his master's habit of sometimes thinking aloud, and
+therefore met with unaltered looks the angrily inquisitive expression of
+the face that emerged from the shirt.
+
+"Gone to bed?" asked the prince.
+
+Tikhon, like all good valets, instinctively knew the direction of his
+master's thoughts. He guessed that the question referred to Prince
+Vasili and his son.
+
+"They have gone to bed and put out their lights, your excellency."
+
+"No good... no good..." said the prince rapidly, and thrusting his feet
+into his slippers and his arms into the sleeves of his dressing gown, he
+went to the couch on which he slept.
+
+Though no words had passed between Anatole and Mademoiselle Bourienne,
+they quite understood one another as to the first part of their romance,
+up to the appearance of the pauvre mere; they understood that they had
+much to say to one another in private and so they had been seeking an
+opportunity since morning to meet one another alone. When Princess Mary
+went to her father's room at the usual hour, Mademoiselle Bourienne and
+Anatole met in the conservatory.
+
+Princess Mary went to the door of the study with special trepidation. It
+seemed to her that not only did everybody know that her fate would be
+decided that day, but that they also knew what she thought about it. She
+read this in Tikhon's face and in that of Prince Vasili's valet, who
+made her a low bow when she met him in the corridor carrying hot water.
+
+The old prince was very affectionate and careful in his treatment of his
+daughter that morning. Princess Mary well knew this painstaking
+expression of her father's. His face wore that expression when his dry
+hands clenched with vexation at her not understanding a sum in
+arithmetic, when rising from his chair he would walk away from her,
+repeating in a low voice the same words several times over.
+
+He came to the point at once, treating her ceremoniously.
+
+"I have had a proposition made me concerning you," he said with an
+unnatural smile. "I expect you have guessed that Prince Vasili has not
+come and brought his pupil with him" (for some reason Prince Bolkonski
+referred to Anatole as a "pupil") "for the sake of my beautiful eyes.
+Last night a proposition was made me on your account and, as you know my
+principles, I refer it to you."
+
+"How am I to understand you, mon pere?" said the princess, growing pale
+and then blushing.
+
+"How understand me!" cried her father angrily. "Prince Vasili finds you
+to his taste as a daughter-in-law and makes a proposal to you on his
+pupil's behalf. That's how it's to be understood! 'How understand
+it'!... And I ask you!"
+
+"I do not know what you think, Father," whispered the princess.
+
+"I? I? What of me? Leave me out of the question. I'm not going to get
+married. What about you? That's what I want to know."
+
+The princess saw that her father regarded the matter with disapproval,
+but at that moment the thought occurred to her that her fate would be
+decided now or never. She lowered her eyes so as not to see the gaze
+under which she felt that she could not think, but would only be able to
+submit from habit, and she said: "I wish only to do your will, but if I
+had to express my own desire..." She had no time to finish. The old
+prince interrupted her.
+
+"That's admirable!" he shouted. "He will take you with your dowry and
+take Mademoiselle Bourienne into the bargain. She'll be the wife, while
+you..."
+
+The prince stopped. He saw the effect these words had produced on his
+daughter. She lowered her head and was ready to burst into tears.
+
+"Now then, now then, I'm only joking!" he said. "Remember this,
+Princess, I hold to the principle that a maiden has a full right to
+choose. I give you freedom. Only remember that your life's happiness
+depends on your decision. Never mind me!"
+
+"But I do not know, Father!"
+
+"There's no need to talk! He receives his orders and will marry you or
+anybody; but you are free to choose.... Go to your room, think it over,
+and come back in an hour and tell me in his presence: yes or no. I know
+you will pray over it. Well, pray if you like, but you had better think
+it over. Go! Yes or no, yes or no, yes or no!" he still shouted when the
+princess, as if lost in a fog, had already staggered out of the study.
+
+Her fate was decided and happily decided. But what her father had said
+about Mademoiselle Bourienne was dreadful. It was untrue to be sure, but
+still it was terrible, and she could not help thinking of it. She was
+going straight on through the conservatory, neither seeing nor hearing
+anything, when suddenly the well-known whispering of Mademoiselle
+Bourienne aroused her. She raised her eyes, and two steps away saw
+Anatole embracing the Frenchwoman and whispering something to her. With
+a horrified expression on his handsome face, Anatole looked at Princess
+Mary, but did not at once take his arm from the waist of Mademoiselle
+Bourienne who had not yet seen her.
+
+"Who's that? Why? Wait a moment!" Anatole's face seemed to say. Princess
+Mary looked at them in silence. She could not understand it. At last
+Mademoiselle Bourienne gave a scream and ran away. Anatole bowed to
+Princess Mary with a gay smile, as if inviting her to join in a laugh at
+this strange incident, and then shrugging his shoulders went to the door
+that led to his own apartments.
+
+An hour later, Tikhon came to call Princess Mary to the old prince; he
+added that Prince Vasili was also there. When Tikhon came to her
+Princess Mary was sitting on the sofa in her room, holding the weeping
+Mademoiselle Bourienne in her arms and gently stroking her hair. The
+princess' beautiful eyes with all their former calm radiance were
+looking with tender affection and pity at Mademoiselle Bourienne's
+pretty face.
+
+"No, Princess, I have lost your affection forever!" said Mademoiselle
+Bourienne.
+
+"Why? I love you more than ever," said Princess Mary, "and I will try to
+do all I can for your happiness."
+
+"But you despise me. You who are so pure can never understand being so
+carried away by passion. Oh, only my poor mother..."
+
+"I quite understand," answered Princess Mary, with a sad smile. "Calm
+yourself, my dear. I will go to my father," she said, and went out.
+
+Prince Vasili, with one leg thrown high over the other and a snuffbox in
+his hand, was sitting there with a smile of deep emotion on his face, as
+if stirred to his heart's core and himself regretting and laughing at
+his own sensibility, when Princess Mary entered. He hurriedly took a
+pinch of snuff.
+
+"Ah, my dear, my dear!" he began, rising and taking her by both hands.
+Then, sighing, he added: "My son's fate is in your hands. Decide, my
+dear, good, gentle Marie, whom I have always loved as a daughter!"
+
+He drew back and a real tear appeared in his eye.
+
+"Fr... fr..." snorted Prince Bolkonski. "The prince is making a
+proposition to you in his pupil's--I mean, his son's--name. Do you wish
+or not to be Prince Anatole Kuragin's wife? Reply: yes or no," he
+shouted, "and then I shall reserve the right to state my opinion also.
+Yes, my opinion, and only my opinion," added Prince Bolkonski, turning
+to Prince Vasili and answering his imploring look. "Yes, or no?"
+
+"My desire is never to leave you, Father, never to separate my life from
+yours. I don't wish to marry," she answered positively, glancing at
+Prince Vasili and at her father with her beautiful eyes.
+
+"Humbug! Nonsense! Humbug, humbug, humbug!" cried Prince Bolkonski,
+frowning and taking his daughter's hand; he did not kiss her, but only
+bending his forehead to hers just touched it, and pressed her hand so
+that she winced and uttered a cry.
+
+Prince Vasili rose.
+
+"My dear, I must tell you that this is a moment I shall never, never
+forget. But, my dear, will you not give us a little hope of touching
+this heart, so kind and generous? Say 'perhaps'... The future is so
+long. Say 'perhaps.'"
+
+"Prince, what I have said is all there is in my heart. I thank you for
+the honor, but I shall never be your son's wife."
+
+"Well, so that's finished, my dear fellow! I am very glad to have seen
+you. Very glad! Go back to your rooms, Princess. Go!" said the old
+prince. "Very, very glad to have seen you," repeated he, embracing
+Prince Vasili.
+
+"My vocation is a different one," thought Princess Mary. "My vocation is
+to be happy with another kind of happiness, the happiness of love and
+self-sacrifice. And cost what it may, I will arrange poor Amelie's
+happiness, she loves him so passionately, and so passionately repents. I
+will do all I can to arrange the match between them. If he is not rich I
+will give her the means; I will ask my father and Andrew. I shall be so
+happy when she is his wife. She is so unfortunate, a stranger, alone,
+helpless! And, oh God, how passionately she must love him if she could
+so far forget herself! Perhaps I might have done the same!..." thought
+Princess Mary.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+It was long since the Rostovs had news of Nicholas. Not till midwinter
+was the count at last handed a letter addressed in his son's
+handwriting. On receiving it, he ran on tiptoe to his study in alarm and
+haste, trying to escape notice, closed the door, and began to read the
+letter.
+
+Anna Mikhaylovna, who always knew everything that passed in the house,
+on hearing of the arrival of the letter went softly into the room and
+found the count with it in his hand, sobbing and laughing at the same
+time.
+
+Anna Mikhaylovna, though her circumstances had improved, was still
+living with the Rostovs.
+
+"My dear friend?" said she, in a tone of pathetic inquiry, prepared to
+sympathize in any way.
+
+The count sobbed yet more.
+
+"Nikolenka... a letter... wa... a... s... wounded... my darling boy...
+the countess... promoted to be an officer... thank God... How tell the
+little countess!"
+
+Anna Mikhaylovna sat down beside him, with her own handkerchief wiped
+the tears from his eyes and from the letter, then having dried her own
+eyes she comforted the count, and decided that at dinner and till
+teatime she would prepare the countess, and after tea, with God's help,
+would inform her.
+
+At dinner Anna Mikhaylovna talked the whole time about the war news and
+about Nikolenka, twice asked when the last letter had been received from
+him, though she knew that already, and remarked that they might very
+likely be getting a letter from him that day. Each time that these hints
+began to make the countess anxious and she glanced uneasily at the count
+and at Anna Mikhaylovna, the latter very adroitly turned the
+conversation to insignificant matters. Natasha, who, of the whole
+family, was the most gifted with a capacity to feel any shades of
+intonation, look, and expression, pricked up her ears from the beginning
+of the meal and was certain that there was some secret between her
+father and Anna Mikhaylovna, that it had something to do with her
+brother, and that Anna Mikhaylovna was preparing them for it. Bold as
+she was, Natasha, who knew how sensitive her mother was to anything
+relating to Nikolenka, did not venture to ask any questions at dinner,
+but she was too excited to eat anything and kept wriggling about on her
+chair regardless of her governess' remarks. After dinner, she rushed
+head long after Anna Mikhaylovna and, dashing at her, flung herself on
+her neck as soon as she overtook her in the sitting room.
+
+"Auntie, darling, do tell me what it is!"
+
+"Nothing, my dear."
+
+"No, dearest, sweet one, honey, I won't give up--I know you know
+something."
+
+Anna Mikhaylovna shook her head.
+
+"You are a little slyboots," she said.
+
+"A letter from Nikolenka! I'm sure of it!" exclaimed Natasha, reading
+confirmation in Anna Mikhaylovna's face.
+
+"But for God's sake, be careful, you know how it may affect your mamma."
+
+"I will, I will, only tell me! You won't? Then I will go and tell at
+once."
+
+Anna Mikhaylovna, in a few words, told her the contents of the letter,
+on condition that she should tell no one.
+
+"No, on my true word of honor," said Natasha, crossing herself, "I won't
+tell anyone!" and she ran off at once to Sonya.
+
+"Nikolenka... wounded... a letter," she announced in gleeful triumph.
+
+"Nicholas!" was all Sonya said, instantly turning white.
+
+Natasha, seeing the impression the news of her brother's wound produced
+on Sonya, felt for the first time the sorrowful side of the news.
+
+She rushed to Sonya, hugged her, and began to cry.
+
+"A little wound, but he has been made an officer; he is well now, he
+wrote himself," said she through her tears.
+
+"There now! It's true that all you women are crybabies," remarked Petya,
+pacing the room with large, resolute strides. "Now I'm very glad, very
+glad indeed, that my brother has distinguished himself so. You are all
+blubberers and understand nothing."
+
+Natasha smiled through her tears.
+
+"You haven't read the letter?" asked Sonya.
+
+"No, but she said that it was all over and that he's now an officer."
+
+"Thank God!" said Sonya, crossing herself. "But perhaps she deceived
+you. Let us go to Mamma."
+
+Petya paced the room in silence for a time.
+
+"If I'd been in Nikolenka's place I would have killed even more of those
+Frenchmen," he said. "What nasty brutes they are! I'd have killed so
+many that there'd have been a heap of them."
+
+"Hold your tongue, Petya, what a goose you are!"
+
+"I'm not a goose, but they are who cry about trifles," said Petya.
+
+"Do you remember him?" Natasha suddenly asked, after a moment's silence.
+
+Sonya smiled.
+
+"Do I remember Nicholas?"
+
+"No, Sonya, but do you remember so that you remember him perfectly,
+remember everything?" said Natasha, with an expressive gesture,
+evidently wishing to give her words a very definite meaning. "I remember
+Nikolenka too, I remember him well," she said. "But I don't remember
+Boris. I don't remember him a bit."
+
+"What! You don't remember Boris?" asked Sonya in surprise.
+
+"It's not that I don't remember--I know what he is like, but not as I
+remember Nikolenka. Him--I just shut my eyes and remember, but Boris...
+No!" (She shut her eyes.) "No! there's nothing at all."
+
+"Oh, Natasha!" said Sonya, looking ecstatically and earnestly at her
+friend as if she did not consider her worthy to hear what she meant to
+say and as if she were saying it to someone else, with whom joking was
+out of the question, "I am in love with your brother once for all and,
+whatever may happen to him or to me, shall never cease to love him as
+long as I live."
+
+Natasha looked at Sonya with wondering and inquisitive eyes, and said
+nothing. She felt that Sonya was speaking the truth, that there was such
+love as Sonya was speaking of. But Natasha had not yet felt anything
+like it. She believed it could be, but did not understand it.
+
+"Shall you write to him?" she asked.
+
+Sonya became thoughtful. The question of how to write to Nicholas, and
+whether she ought to write, tormented her. Now that he was already an
+officer and a wounded hero, would it be right to remind him of herself
+and, as it might seem, of the obligations to her he had taken on
+himself?
+
+"I don't know. I think if he writes, I will write too," she said,
+blushing.
+
+"And you won't feel ashamed to write to him?"
+
+Sonya smiled.
+
+"No."
+
+"And I should be ashamed to write to Boris. I'm not going to."
+
+"Why should you be ashamed?"
+
+"Well, I don't know. It's awkward and would make me ashamed."
+
+"And I know why she'd be ashamed," said Petya, offended by Natasha's
+previous remark. "It's because she was in love with that fat one in
+spectacles" (that was how Petya described his namesake, the new Count
+Bezukhov) "and now she's in love with that singer" (he meant Natasha's
+Italian singing master), "that's why she's ashamed!"
+
+"Petya, you're a stupid!" said Natasha.
+
+"Not more stupid than you, madam," said the nine-year-old Petya, with
+the air of an old brigadier.
+
+The countess had been prepared by Anna Mikhaylovna's hints at dinner. On
+retiring to her own room, she sat in an armchair, her eyes fixed on a
+miniature portrait of her son on the lid of a snuffbox, while the tears
+kept coming into her eyes. Anna Mikhaylovna, with the letter, came on
+tiptoe to the countess' door and paused.
+
+"Don't come in," she said to the old count who was following her. "Come
+later." And she went in, closing the door behind her.
+
+The count put his ear to the keyhole and listened.
+
+At first he heard the sound of indifferent voices, then Anna
+Mikhaylovna's voice alone in a long speech, then a cry, then silence,
+then both voices together with glad intonations, and then footsteps.
+Anna Mikhaylovna opened the door. Her face wore the proud expression of
+a surgeon who has just performed a difficult operation and admits the
+public to appreciate his skill.
+
+"It is done!" she said to the count, pointing triumphantly to the
+countess, who sat holding in one hand the snuffbox with its portrait and
+in the other the letter, and pressing them alternately to her lips.
+
+When she saw the count, she stretched out her arms to him, embraced his
+bald head, over which she again looked at the letter and the portrait,
+and in order to press them again to her lips, she slightly pushed away
+the bald head. Vera, Natasha, Sonya, and Petya now entered the room, and
+the reading of the letter began. After a brief description of the
+campaign and the two battles in which he had taken part, and his
+promotion, Nicholas said that he kissed his father's and mother's hands
+asking for their blessing, and that he kissed Vera, Natasha, and Petya.
+Besides that, he sent greetings to Monsieur Schelling, Madame Schoss,
+and his old nurse, and asked them to kiss for him "dear Sonya, whom he
+loved and thought of just the same as ever." When she heard this Sonya
+blushed so that tears came into her eyes and, unable to bear the looks
+turned upon her, ran away into the dancing hall, whirled round it at
+full speed with her dress puffed out like a balloon, and, flushed and
+smiling, plumped down on the floor. The countess was crying.
+
+"Why are you crying, Mamma?" asked Vera. "From all he says one should be
+glad and not cry."
+
+This was quite true, but the count, the countess, and Natasha looked at
+her reproachfully. "And who is it she takes after?" thought the
+countess.
+
+Nicholas' letter was read over hundreds of times, and those who were
+considered worthy to hear it had to come to the countess, for she did
+not let it out of her hands. The tutors came, and the nurses, and
+Dmitri, and several acquaintances, and the countess reread the letter
+each time with fresh pleasure and each time discovered in it fresh
+proofs of Nikolenka's virtues. How strange, how extraordinary, how
+joyful it seemed, that her son, the scarcely perceptible motion of whose
+tiny limbs she had felt twenty years ago within her, that son about whom
+she used to have quarrels with the too indulgent count, that son who had
+first learned to say "pear" and then "granny," that this son should now
+be away in a foreign land amid strange surroundings, a manly warrior
+doing some kind of man's work of his own, without help or guidance. The
+universal experience of ages, showing that children do grow
+imperceptibly from the cradle to manhood, did not exist for the
+countess. Her son's growth toward manhood, at each of its stages, had
+seemed as extraordinary to her as if there had never existed the
+millions of human beings who grew up in the same way. As twenty years
+before, it seemed impossible that the little creature who lived
+somewhere under her heart would ever cry, suck her breast, and begin to
+speak, so now she could not believe that that little creature could be
+this strong, brave man, this model son and officer that, judging by this
+letter, he now was.
+
+"What a style! How charmingly he describes!" said she, reading the
+descriptive part of the letter. "And what a soul! Not a word about
+himself.... Not a word! About some Denisov or other, though he himself,
+I dare say, is braver than any of them. He says nothing about his
+sufferings. What a heart! How like him it is! And how he has remembered
+everybody! Not forgetting anyone. I always said when he was only so
+high--I always said...."
+
+For more than a week preparations were being made, rough drafts of
+letters to Nicholas from all the household were written and copied out,
+while under the supervision of the countess and the solicitude of the
+count, money and all things necessary for the uniform and equipment of
+the newly commissioned officer were collected. Anna Mikhaylovna,
+practical woman that she was, had even managed by favor with army
+authorities to secure advantageous means of communication for herself
+and her son. She had opportunities of sending her letters to the Grand
+Duke Constantine Pavlovich, who commanded the Guards. The Rostovs
+supposed that The Russian Guards, Abroad, was quite a definite address,
+and that if a letter reached the Grand Duke in command of the Guards
+there was no reason why it should not reach the Pavlograd regiment,
+which was presumably somewhere in the same neighborhood. And so it was
+decided to send the letters and money by the Grand Duke's courier to
+Boris and Boris was to forward them to Nicholas. The letters were from
+the old count, the countess, Petya, Vera, Natasha, and Sonya, and
+finally there were six thousand rubles for his outfit and various other
+things the old count sent to his son.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+On the twelfth of November, Kutuzov's active army, in camp before
+Olmutz, was preparing to be reviewed next day by the two Emperors--the
+Russian and the Austrian. The Guards, just arrived from Russia, spent
+the night ten miles from Olmutz and next morning were to come straight
+to the review, reaching the field at Olmutz by ten o'clock.
+
+That day Nicholas Rostov received a letter from Boris, telling him that
+the Ismaylov regiment was quartered for the night ten miles from Olmutz
+and that he wanted to see him as he had a letter and money for him.
+Rostov was particularly in need of money now that the troops, after
+their active service, were stationed near Olmutz and the camp swarmed
+with well-provisioned sutlers and Austrian Jews offering all sorts of
+tempting wares. The Pavlograds held feast after feast, celebrating
+awards they had received for the campaign, and made expeditions to
+Olmutz to visit a certain Caroline the Hungarian, who had recently
+opened a restaurant there with girls as waitresses. Rostov, who had just
+celebrated his promotion to a cornetcy and bought Denisov's horse,
+Bedouin, was in debt all round, to his comrades and the sutlers. On
+receiving Boris' letter he rode with a fellow officer to Olmutz, dined
+there, drank a bottle of wine, and then set off alone to the Guards'
+camp to find his old playmate. Rostov had not yet had time to get his
+uniform. He had on a shabby cadet jacket, decorated with a soldier's
+cross, equally shabby cadet's riding breeches lined with worn leather,
+and an officer's saber with a sword knot. The Don horse he was riding
+was one he had bought from a Cossack during the campaign, and he wore a
+crumpled hussar cap stuck jauntily back on one side of his head. As he
+rode up to the camp he thought how he would impress Boris and all his
+comrades of the Guards by his appearance--that of a fighting hussar who
+had been under fire.
+
+The Guards had made their whole march as if on a pleasure trip, parading
+their cleanliness and discipline. They had come by easy stages, their
+knapsacks conveyed on carts, and the Austrian authorities had provided
+excellent dinners for the officers at every halting place. The regiments
+had entered and left the town with their bands playing, and by the Grand
+Duke's orders the men had marched all the way in step (a practice on
+which the Guards prided themselves), the officers on foot and at their
+proper posts. Boris had been quartered, and had marched all the way,
+with Berg who was already in command of a company. Berg, who had
+obtained his captaincy during the campaign, had gained the confidence of
+his superiors by his promptitude and accuracy and had arranged his money
+matters very satisfactorily. Boris, during the campaign, had made the
+acquaintance of many persons who might prove useful to him, and by a
+letter of recommendation he had brought from Pierre had become
+acquainted with Prince Andrew Bolkonski, through whom he hoped to obtain
+a post on the commander-in-chief's staff. Berg and Boris, having rested
+after yesterday's march, were sitting, clean and neatly dressed, at a
+round table in the clean quarters allotted to them, playing chess. Berg
+held a smoking pipe between his knees. Boris, in the accurate way
+characteristic of him, was building a little pyramid of chessmen with
+his delicate white fingers while awaiting Berg's move, and watched his
+opponent's face, evidently thinking about the game as he always thought
+only of whatever he was engaged on.
+
+"Well, how are you going to get out of that?" he remarked.
+
+"We'll try to," replied Berg, touching a pawn and then removing his
+hand.
+
+At that moment the door opened.
+
+"Here he is at last!" shouted Rostov. "And Berg too! Oh, you
+petisenfans, allay cushay dormir!" he exclaimed, imitating his Russian
+nurse's French, at which he and Boris used to laugh long ago.
+
+"Dear me, how you have changed!"
+
+Boris rose to meet Rostov, but in doing so did not omit to steady and
+replace some chessmen that were falling. He was about to embrace his
+friend, but Nicholas avoided him. With that peculiar feeling of youth,
+that dread of beaten tracks, and wish to express itself in a manner
+different from that of its elders which is often insincere, Nicholas
+wished to do something special on meeting his friend. He wanted to pinch
+him, push him, do anything but kiss him--a thing everybody did. But
+notwithstanding this, Boris embraced him in a quiet, friendly way and
+kissed him three times.
+
+They had not met for nearly half a year and, being at the age when young
+men take their first steps on life's road, each saw immense changes in
+the other, quite a new reflection of the society in which they had taken
+those first steps. Both had changed greatly since they last met and both
+were in a hurry to show the changes that had taken place in them.
+
+"Oh, you damned dandies! Clean and fresh as if you'd been to a fete, not
+like us sinners of the line," cried Rostov, with martial swagger and
+with baritone notes in his voice, new to Boris, pointing to his own mud-
+bespattered breeches. The German landlady, hearing Rostov's loud voice,
+popped her head in at the door.
+
+"Eh, is she pretty?" he asked with a wink.
+
+"Why do you shout so? You'll frighten them!" said Boris. "I did not
+expect you today," he added. "I only sent you the note yesterday by
+Bolkonski--an adjutant of Kutuzov's, who's a friend of mine. I did not
+think he would get it to you so quickly.... Well, how are you? Been
+under fire already?" asked Boris.
+
+Without answering, Rostov shook the soldier's Cross of St. George
+fastened to the cording of his uniform and, indicating a bandaged arm,
+glanced at Berg with a smile.
+
+"As you see," he said.
+
+"Indeed? Yes, yes!" said Boris, with a smile. "And we too have had a
+splendid march. You know, of course, that His Imperial Highness rode
+with our regiment all the time, so that we had every comfort and every
+advantage. What receptions we had in Poland! What dinners and balls! I
+can't tell you. And the Tsarevich was very gracious to all our
+officers."
+
+And the two friends told each other of their doings, the one of his
+hussar revels and life in the fighting line, the other of the pleasures
+and advantages of service under members of the Imperial family.
+
+"Oh, you Guards!" said Rostov. "I say, send for some wine."
+
+Boris made a grimace.
+
+"If you really want it," said he.
+
+He went to his bed, drew a purse from under the clean pillow, and sent
+for wine.
+
+"Yes, and I have some money and a letter to give you," he added.
+
+Rostov took the letter and, throwing the money on the sofa, put both
+arms on the table and began to read. After reading a few lines, he
+glanced angrily at Berg, then, meeting his eyes, hid his face behind the
+letter.
+
+"Well, they've sent you a tidy sum," said Berg, eying the heavy purse
+that sank into the sofa. "As for us, Count, we get along on our pay. I
+can tell you for myself..."
+
+"I say, Berg, my dear fellow," said Rostov, "when you get a letter from
+home and meet one of your own people whom you want to talk everything
+over with, and I happen to be there, I'll go at once, to be out of your
+way! Do go somewhere, anywhere... to the devil!" he exclaimed, and
+immediately seizing him by the shoulder and looking amiably into his
+face, evidently wishing to soften the rudeness of his words, he added,
+"Don't be hurt, my dear fellow; you know I speak from my heart as to an
+old acquaintance."
+
+"Oh, don't mention it, Count! I quite understand," said Berg, getting up
+and speaking in a muffled and guttural voice.
+
+"Go across to our hosts: they invited you," added Boris.
+
+Berg put on the cleanest of coats, without a spot or speck of dust,
+stood before a looking glass and brushed the hair on his temples
+upwards, in the way affected by the Emperor Alexander, and, having
+assured himself from the way Rostov looked at it that his coat had been
+noticed, left the room with a pleasant smile.
+
+"Oh dear, what a beast I am!" muttered Rostov, as he read the letter.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Oh, what a pig I am, not to have written and to have given them such a
+fright! Oh, what a pig I am!" he repeated, flushing suddenly. "Well,
+have you sent Gabriel for some wine? All right let's have some!"
+
+In the letter from his parents was enclosed a letter of recommendation
+to Bagration which the old countess at Anna Mikhaylovna's advice had
+obtained through an acquaintance and sent to her son, asking him to take
+it to its destination and make use of it.
+
+"What nonsense! Much I need it!" said Rostov, throwing the letter under
+the table.
+
+"Why have you thrown that away?" asked Boris.
+
+"It is some letter of recommendation... what the devil do I want it
+for!"
+
+"Why 'What the devil'?" said Boris, picking it up and reading the
+address. "This letter would be of great use to you."
+
+"I want nothing, and I won't be anyone's adjutant."
+
+"Why not?" inquired Boris.
+
+"It's a lackey's job!"
+
+"You are still the same dreamer, I see," remarked Boris, shaking his
+head.
+
+"And you're still the same diplomatist! But that's not the point...
+Come, how are you?" asked Rostov.
+
+"Well, as you see. So far everything's all right, but I confess I should
+much like to be an adjutant and not remain at the front."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because when once a man starts on military service, he should try to
+make as successful a career of it as possible."
+
+"Oh, that's it!" said Rostov, evidently thinking of something else.
+
+He looked intently and inquiringly into his friend's eyes, evidently
+trying in vain to find the answer to some question.
+
+Old Gabriel brought in the wine.
+
+"Shouldn't we now send for Berg?" asked Boris. "He would drink with you.
+I can't."
+
+"Well, send for him... and how do you get on with that German?" asked
+Rostov, with a contemptuous smile.
+
+"He is a very, very nice, honest, and pleasant fellow," answered Boris.
+
+Again Rostov looked intently into Boris' eyes and sighed. Berg returned,
+and over the bottle of wine conversation between the three officers
+became animated. The Guardsmen told Rostov of their march and how they
+had been made much of in Russia, Poland, and abroad. They spoke of the
+sayings and doings of their commander, the Grand Duke, and told stories
+of his kindness and irascibility. Berg, as usual, kept silent when the
+subject did not relate to himself, but in connection with the stories of
+the Grand Duke's quick temper he related with gusto how in Galicia he
+had managed to deal with the Grand Duke when the latter made a tour of
+the regiments and was annoyed at the irregularity of a movement. With a
+pleasant smile Berg related how the Grand Duke had ridden up to him in a
+violent passion, shouting: "Arnauts!" ("Arnauts" was the Tsarevich's
+favorite expression when he was in a rage) and called for the company
+commander.
+
+"Would you believe it, Count, I was not at all alarmed, because I knew I
+was right. Without boasting, you know, I may say that I know the Army
+Orders by heart and know the Regulations as well as I do the Lord's
+Prayer. So, Count, there never is any negligence in my company, and so
+my conscience was at ease. I came forward...." (Berg stood up and showed
+how he presented himself, with his hand to his cap, and really it would
+have been difficult for a face to express greater respect and self-
+complacency than his did.) "Well, he stormed at me, as the saying is,
+stormed and stormed and stormed! It was not a matter of life but rather
+of death, as the saying is. 'Albanians!' and 'devils!' and 'To
+Siberia!'" said Berg with a sagacious smile. "I knew I was in the right
+so I kept silent; was not that best, Count?... 'Hey, are you dumb?' he
+shouted. Still I remained silent. And what do you think, Count? The next
+day it was not even mentioned in the Orders of the Day. That's what
+keeping one's head means. That's the way, Count," said Berg, lighting
+his pipe and emitting rings of smoke.
+
+"Yes, that was fine," said Rostov, smiling.
+
+But Boris noticed that he was preparing to make fun of Berg, and
+skillfully changed the subject. He asked him to tell them how and where
+he got his wound. This pleased Rostov and he began talking about it, and
+as he went on became more and more animated. He told them of his Schon
+Grabern affair, just as those who have taken part in a battle generally
+do describe it, that is, as they would like it to have been, as they
+have heard it described by others, and as sounds well, but not at all as
+it really was. Rostov was a truthful young man and would on no account
+have told a deliberate lie. He began his story meaning to tell
+everything just as it happened, but imperceptibly, involuntarily, and
+inevitably he lapsed into falsehood. If he had told the truth to his
+hearers--who like himself had often heard stories of attacks and had
+formed a definite idea of what an attack was and were expecting to hear
+just such a story--they would either not have believed him or, still
+worse, would have thought that Rostov was himself to blame since what
+generally happens to the narrators of cavalry attacks had not happened
+to him. He could not tell them simply that everyone went at a trot and
+that he fell off his horse and sprained his arm and then ran as hard as
+he could from a Frenchman into the wood. Besides, to tell everything as
+it really happened, it would have been necessary to make an effort of
+will to tell only what happened. It is very difficult to tell the truth,
+and young people are rarely capable of it. His hearers expected a story
+of how beside himself and all aflame with excitement, he had flown like
+a storm at the square, cut his way in, slashed right and left, how his
+saber had tasted flesh and he had fallen exhausted, and so on. And so he
+told them all that.
+
+In the middle of his story, just as he was saying: "You cannot imagine
+what a strange frenzy one experiences during an attack," Prince Andrew,
+whom Boris was expecting, entered the room. Prince Andrew, who liked to
+help young men, was flattered by being asked for his assistance and
+being well disposed toward Boris, who had managed to please him the day
+before, he wished to do what the young man wanted. Having been sent with
+papers from Kutuzov to the Tsarevich, he looked in on Boris, hoping to
+find him alone. When he came in and saw an hussar of the line recounting
+his military exploits (Prince Andrew could not endure that sort of man),
+he gave Boris a pleasant smile, frowned as with half-closed eyes he
+looked at Rostov, bowed slightly and wearily, and sat down languidly on
+the sofa: he felt it unpleasant to have dropped in on bad company.
+Rostov flushed up on noticing this, but he did not care, this was a mere
+stranger. Glancing, however, at Boris, he saw that he too seemed ashamed
+of the hussar of the line.
+
+In spite of Prince Andrew's disagreeable, ironical tone, in spite of the
+contempt with which Rostov, from his fighting army point of view,
+regarded all these little adjutants on the staff of whom the newcomer
+was evidently one, Rostov felt confused, blushed, and became silent.
+Boris inquired what news there might be on the staff, and what, without
+indiscretion, one might ask about our plans.
+
+"We shall probably advance," replied Bolkonski, evidently reluctant to
+say more in the presence of a stranger.
+
+Berg took the opportunity to ask, with great politeness, whether, as was
+rumored, the allowance of forage money to captains of companies would be
+doubled. To this Prince Andrew answered with a smile that he could give
+no opinion on such an important government order, and Berg laughed
+gaily.
+
+"As to your business," Prince Andrew continued, addressing Boris, "we
+will talk of it later" (and he looked round at Rostov). "Come to me
+after the review and we will do what is possible."
+
+And, having glanced round the room, Prince Andrew turned to Rostov,
+whose state of unconquerable childish embarrassment now changing to
+anger he did not condescend to notice, and said: "I think you were
+talking of the Schon Grabern affair? Were you there?"
+
+"I was there," said Rostov angrily, as if intending to insult the aide-
+de-camp.
+
+Bolkonski noticed the hussar's state of mind, and it amused him. With a
+slightly contemptuous smile, he said: "Yes, there are many stories now
+told about that affair!"
+
+"Yes, stories!" repeated Rostov loudly, looking with eyes suddenly grown
+furious, now at Boris, now at Bolkonski. "Yes, many stories! But our
+stories are the stories of men who have been under the enemy's fire! Our
+stories have some weight, not like the stories of those fellows on the
+staff who get rewards without doing anything!"
+
+"Of whom you imagine me to be one?" said Prince Andrew, with a quiet and
+particularly amiable smile.
+
+A strange feeling of exasperation and yet of respect for this man's
+self-possession mingled at that moment in Rostov's soul.
+
+"I am not talking about you," he said, "I don't know you and, frankly, I
+don't want to. I am speaking of the staff in general."
+
+"And I will tell you this," Prince Andrew interrupted in a tone of quiet
+authority, "you wish to insult me, and I am ready to agree with you that
+it would be very easy to do so if you haven't sufficient self-respect,
+but admit that the time and place are very badly chosen. In a day or two
+we shall all have to take part in a greater and more serious duel, and
+besides, Drubetskoy, who says he is an old friend of yours, is not at
+all to blame that my face has the misfortune to displease you. However,"
+he added rising, "you know my name and where to find me, but don't
+forget that I do not regard either myself or you as having been at all
+insulted, and as a man older than you, my advice is to let the matter
+drop. Well then, on Friday after the review I shall expect you,
+Drubetskoy. Au revoir!" exclaimed Prince Andrew, and with a bow to them
+both he went out.
+
+Only when Prince Andrew was gone did Rostov think of what he ought to
+have said. And he was still more angry at having omitted to say it. He
+ordered his horse at once and, coldly taking leave of Boris, rode home.
+Should he go to headquarters next day and challenge that affected
+adjutant, or really let the matter drop, was the question that worried
+him all the way. He thought angrily of the pleasure he would have at
+seeing the fright of that small and frail but proud man when covered by
+his pistol, and then he felt with surprise that of all the men he knew
+there was none he would so much like to have for a friend as that very
+adjutant whom he so hated.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+The day after Rostov had been to see Boris, a review was held of the
+Austrian and Russian troops, both those freshly arrived from Russia and
+those who had been campaigning under Kutuzov. The two Emperors, the
+Russian with his heir the Tsarevich, and the Austrian with the Archduke,
+inspected the allied army of eighty thousand men.
+
+From early morning the smart clean troops were on the move, forming up
+on the field before the fortress. Now thousands of feet and bayonets
+moved and halted at the officers' command, turned with banners flying,
+formed up at intervals, and wheeled round other similar masses of
+infantry in different uniforms; now was heard the rhythmic beat of hoofs
+and the jingling of showy cavalry in blue, red, and green braided
+uniforms, with smartly dressed bandsmen in front mounted on black, roan,
+or gray horses; then again, spreading out with the brazen clatter of the
+polished shining cannon that quivered on the gun carriages and with the
+smell of linstocks, came the artillery which crawled between the
+infantry and cavalry and took up its appointed position. Not only the
+generals in full parade uniforms, with their thin or thick waists drawn
+in to the utmost, their red necks squeezed into their stiff collars, and
+wearing scarves and all their decorations, not only the elegant, pomaded
+officers, but every soldier with his freshly washed and shaven face and
+his weapons clean and polished to the utmost, and every horse groomed
+till its coat shone like satin and every hair of its wetted mane lay
+smooth--felt that no small matter was happening, but an important and
+solemn affair. Every general and every soldier was conscious of his own
+insignificance, aware of being but a drop in that ocean of men, and yet
+at the same time was conscious of his strength as a part of that
+enormous whole.
+
+From early morning strenuous activities and efforts had begun and by ten
+o'clock all had been brought into due order. The ranks were drawn up on
+the vast field. The whole army was extended in three lines: the cavalry
+in front, behind it the artillery, and behind that again the infantry.
+
+A space like a street was left between each two lines of troops. The
+three parts of that army were sharply distinguished: Kutuzov's fighting
+army (with the Pavlograds on the right flank of the front); those
+recently arrived from Russia, both Guards and regiments of the line; and
+the Austrian troops. But they all stood in the same lines, under one
+command, and in a like order.
+
+Like wind over leaves ran an excited whisper: "They're coming! They're
+coming!" Alarmed voices were heard, and a stir of final preparation
+swept over all the troops.
+
+From the direction of Olmutz in front of them, a group was seen
+approaching. And at that moment, though the day was still, a light gust
+of wind blowing over the army slightly stirred the streamers on the
+lances and the unfolded standards fluttered against their staffs. It
+looked as if by that slight motion the army itself was expressing its
+joy at the approach of the Emperors. One voice was heard shouting: "Eyes
+front!" Then, like the crowing of cocks at sunrise, this was repeated by
+others from various sides and all became silent.
+
+In the deathlike stillness only the tramp of horses was heard. This was
+the Emperors' suites. The Emperors rode up to the flank, and the
+trumpets of the first cavalry regiment played the general march. It
+seemed as though not the trumpeters were playing, but as if the army
+itself, rejoicing at the Emperors' approach, had naturally burst into
+music. Amid these sounds, only the youthful kindly voice of the Emperor
+Alexander was clearly heard. He gave the words of greeting, and the
+first regiment roared "Hurrah!" so deafeningly, continuously, and
+joyfully that the men themselves were awed by their multitude and the
+immensity of the power they constituted.
+
+Rostov, standing in the front lines of Kutuzov's army which the Tsar
+approached first, experienced the same feeling as every other man in
+that army: a feeling of self-forgetfulness, a proud consciousness of
+might, and a passionate attraction to him who was the cause of this
+triumph.
+
+He felt that at a single word from that man all this vast mass (and he
+himself an insignificant atom in it) would go through fire and water,
+commit crime, die, or perform deeds of highest heroism, and so he could
+not but tremble and his heart stand still at the imminence of that word.
+
+"Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!" thundered from all sides, one regiment after
+another greeting the Tsar with the strains of the march, and then
+"Hurrah!"... Then the general march, and again "Hurrah! Hurrah!" growing
+ever stronger and fuller and merging into a deafening roar.
+
+Till the Tsar reached it, each regiment in its silence and immobility
+seemed like a lifeless body, but as soon as he came up it became alive,
+its thunder joining the roar of the whole line along which he had
+already passed. Through the terrible and deafening roar of those voices,
+amid the square masses of troops standing motionless as if turned to
+stone, hundreds of riders composing the suites moved carelessly but
+symmetrically and above all freely, and in front of them two men--the
+Emperors. Upon them the undivided, tensely passionate attention of that
+whole mass of men was concentrated.
+
+The handsome young Emperor Alexander, in the uniform of the Horse
+Guards, wearing a cocked hat with its peaks front and back, with his
+pleasant face and resonant though not loud voice, attracted everyone's
+attention.
+
+Rostov was not far from the trumpeters, and with his keen sight had
+recognized the Tsar and watched his approach. When he was within twenty
+paces, and Nicholas could clearly distinguish every detail of his
+handsome, happy young face, he experienced a feeling of tenderness and
+ecstasy such as he had never before known. Every trait and every
+movement of the Tsar's seemed to him enchanting.
+
+Stopping in front of the Pavlograds, the Tsar said something in French
+to the Austrian Emperor and smiled.
+
+Seeing that smile, Rostov involuntarily smiled himself and felt a still
+stronger flow of love for his sovereign. He longed to show that love in
+some way and knowing that this was impossible was ready to cry. The Tsar
+called the colonel of the regiment and said a few words to him.
+
+"Oh God, what would happen to me if the Emperor spoke to me?" thought
+Rostov. "I should die of happiness!"
+
+The Tsar addressed the officers also: "I thank you all, gentlemen, I
+thank you with my whole heart." To Rostov every word sounded like a
+voice from heaven. How gladly would he have died at once for his Tsar!
+
+"You have earned the St. George's standards and will be worthy of them."
+
+"Oh, to die, to die for him," thought Rostov.
+
+The Tsar said something more which Rostov did not hear, and the
+soldiers, straining their lungs, shouted "Hurrah!"
+
+Rostov too, bending over his saddle, shouted "Hurrah!" with all his
+might, feeling that he would like to injure himself by that shout, if
+only to express his rapture fully.
+
+The Tsar stopped a few minutes in front of the hussars as if undecided.
+
+"How can the Emperor be undecided?" thought Rostov, but then even this
+indecision appeared to him majestic and enchanting, like everything else
+the Tsar did.
+
+That hesitation lasted only an instant. The Tsar's foot, in the narrow
+pointed boot then fashionable, touched the groin of the bobtailed bay
+mare he rode, his hand in a white glove gathered up the reins, and he
+moved off accompanied by an irregularly swaying sea of aides-de-camp.
+Farther and farther he rode away, stopping at other regiments, till at
+last only his white plumes were visible to Rostov from amid the suites
+that surrounded the Emperors.
+
+Among the gentlemen of the suite, Rostov noticed Bolkonski, sitting his
+horse indolently and carelessly. Rostov recalled their quarrel of
+yesterday and the question presented itself whether he ought or ought
+not to challenge Bolkonski. "Of course not!" he now thought. "Is it
+worth thinking or speaking of it at such a moment? At a time of such
+love, such rapture, and such self-sacrifice, what do any of our quarrels
+and affronts matter? I love and forgive everybody now."
+
+When the Emperor had passed nearly all the regiments, the troops began a
+ceremonial march past him, and Rostov on Bedouin, recently purchased
+from Denisov, rode past too, at the rear of his squadron--that is, alone
+and in full view of the Emperor.
+
+Before he reached him, Rostov, who was a splendid horseman, spurred
+Bedouin twice and successfully put him to the showy trot in which the
+animal went when excited. Bending his foaming muzzle to his chest, his
+tail extended, Bedouin, as if also conscious of the Emperor's eye upon
+him, passed splendidly, lifting his feet with a high and graceful
+action, as if flying through the air without touching the ground.
+
+Rostov himself, his legs well back and his stomach drawn in and feeling
+himself one with his horse, rode past the Emperor with a frowning but
+blissful face "like a vewy devil," as Denisov expressed it.
+
+"Fine fellows, the Pavlograds!" remarked the Emperor.
+
+"My God, how happy I should be if he ordered me to leap into the fire
+this instant!" thought Rostov.
+
+When the review was over, the newly arrived officers, and also
+Kutuzov's, collected in groups and began to talk about the awards, about
+the Austrians and their uniforms, about their lines, about Bonaparte,
+and how badly the latter would fare now, especially if the Essen corps
+arrived and Prussia took our side.
+
+But the talk in every group was chiefly about the Emperor Alexander. His
+every word and movement was described with ecstasy.
+
+They all had but one wish: to advance as soon as possible against the
+enemy under the Emperor's command. Commanded by the Emperor himself they
+could not fail to vanquish anyone, be it whom it might: so thought
+Rostov and most of the officers after the review.
+
+All were then more confident of victory than the winning of two battles
+would have made them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+The day after the review, Boris, in his best uniform and with his
+comrade Berg's best wishes for success, rode to Olmutz to see Bolkonski,
+wishing to profit by his friendliness and obtain for himself the best
+post he could--preferably that of adjutant to some important personage,
+a position in the army which seemed to him most attractive. "It is all
+very well for Rostov, whose father sends him ten thousand rubles at a
+time, to talk about not wishing to cringe to anybody and not be anyone's
+lackey, but I who have nothing but my brains have to make a career and
+must not miss opportunities, but must avail myself of them!" he
+reflected.
+
+He did not find Prince Andrew in Olmutz that day, but the appearance of
+the town where the headquarters and the diplomatic corps were stationed
+and the two Emperors were living with their suites, households, and
+courts only strengthened his desire to belong to that higher world.
+
+He knew no one, and despite his smart Guardsman's uniform, all these
+exalted personages passing in the streets in their elegant carriages
+with their plumes, ribbons, and medals, both courtiers and military men,
+seemed so immeasurably above him, an insignificant officer of the
+Guards, that they not only did not wish to, but simply could not, be
+aware of his existence. At the quarters of the commander-in-chief,
+Kutuzov, where he inquired for Bolkonski, all the adjutants and even the
+orderlies looked at him as if they wished to impress on him that a great
+many officers like him were always coming there and that everybody was
+heartily sick of them. In spite of this, or rather because of it, next
+day, November 15, after dinner he again went to Olmutz and, entering the
+house occupied by Kutuzov, asked for Bolkonski. Prince Andrew was in and
+Boris was shown into a large hall probably formerly used for dancing,
+but in which five beds now stood, and furniture of various kinds: a
+table, chairs, and a clavichord. One adjutant, nearest the door, was
+sitting at the table in a Persian dressing gown, writing. Another, the
+red, stout Nesvitski, lay on a bed with his arms under his head,
+laughing with an officer who had sat down beside him. A third was
+playing a Viennese waltz on the clavichord, while a fourth, lying on the
+clavichord, sang the tune. Bolkonski was not there. None of these
+gentlemen changed his position on seeing Boris. The one who was writing
+and whom Boris addressed turned round crossly and told him Bolkonski was
+on duty and that he should go through the door on the left into the
+reception room if he wished to see him. Boris thanked him and went to
+the reception room, where he found some ten officers and generals.
+
+When he entered, Prince Andrew, his eyes drooping contemptuously (with
+that peculiar expression of polite weariness which plainly says, "If it
+were not my duty I would not talk to you for a moment"), was listening
+to an old Russian general with decorations, who stood very erect, almost
+on tiptoe, with a soldier's obsequious expression on his purple face,
+reporting something.
+
+"Very well, then, be so good as to wait," said Prince Andrew to the
+general, in Russian, speaking with the French intonation he affected
+when he wished to speak contemptuously, and noticing Boris, Prince
+Andrew, paying no more heed to the general who ran after him imploring
+him to hear something more, nodded and turned to him with a cheerful
+smile.
+
+At that moment Boris clearly realized what he had before surmised, that
+in the army, besides the subordination and discipline prescribed in the
+military code, which he and the others knew in the regiment, there was
+another, more important, subordination, which made this tight-laced,
+purple-faced general wait respectfully while Captain Prince Andrew, for
+his own pleasure, chose to chat with Lieutenant Drubetskoy. More than
+ever was Boris resolved to serve in future not according to the written
+code, but under this unwritten law. He felt now that merely by having
+been recommended to Prince Andrew he had already risen above the general
+who at the front had the power to annihilate him, a lieutenant of the
+Guards. Prince Andrew came up to him and took his hand.
+
+"I am very sorry you did not find me in yesterday. I was fussing about
+with Germans all day. We went with Weyrother to survey the dispositions.
+When Germans start being accurate, there's no end to it!"
+
+Boris smiled, as if he understood what Prince Andrew was alluding to as
+something generally known. But it was the first time he had heard
+Weyrother's name, or even the term "dispositions."
+
+"Well, my dear fellow, so you still want to be an adjutant? I have been
+thinking about you."
+
+"Yes, I was thinking"--for some reason Boris could not help blushing--
+"of asking the commander-in-chief. He has had a letter from Prince
+Kuragin about me. I only wanted to ask because I fear the Guards won't
+be in action," he added as if in apology.
+
+"All right, all right. We'll talk it over," replied Prince Andrew. "Only
+let me report this gentleman's business, and I shall be at your
+disposal."
+
+While Prince Andrew went to report about the purple-faced general, that
+gentleman--evidently not sharing Boris' conception of the advantages of
+the unwritten code of subordination--looked so fixedly at the
+presumptuous lieutenant who had prevented his finishing what he had to
+say to the adjutant that Boris felt uncomfortable. He turned away and
+waited impatiently for Prince Andrew's return from the commander-in-
+chief's room.
+
+"You see, my dear fellow, I have been thinking about you," said Prince
+Andrew when they had gone into the large room where the clavichord was.
+"It's no use your going to the commander-in-chief. He would say a lot of
+pleasant things, ask you to dinner" ("That would not be bad as regards
+the unwritten code," thought Boris), "but nothing more would come of it.
+There will soon be a battalion of us aides-de-camp and adjutants! But
+this is what we'll do: I have a good friend, an adjutant general and an
+excellent fellow, Prince Dolgorukov; and though you may not know it, the
+fact is that now Kutuzov with his staff and all of us count for nothing.
+Everything is now centered round the Emperor. So we will go to
+Dolgorukov; I have to go there anyhow and I have already spoken to him
+about you. We shall see whether he cannot attach you to himself or find
+a place for you somewhere nearer the sun."
+
+Prince Andrew always became specially keen when he had to guide a young
+man and help him to worldly success. Under cover of obtaining help of
+this kind for another, which from pride he would never accept for
+himself, he kept in touch with the circle which confers success and
+which attracted him. He very readily took up Boris' cause and went with
+him to Dolgorukov.
+
+It was late in the evening when they entered the palace at Olmutz
+occupied by the Emperors and their retinues.
+
+That same day a council of war had been held in which all the members of
+the Hofkriegsrath and both Emperors took part. At that council, contrary
+to the views of the old generals Kutuzov and Prince Schwartzenberg, it
+had been decided to advance immediately and give battle to Bonaparte.
+The council of war was just over when Prince Andrew accompanied by Boris
+arrived at the palace to find Dolgorukov. Everyone at headquarters was
+still under the spell of the day's council, at which the party of the
+young had triumphed. The voices of those who counseled delay and advised
+waiting for something else before advancing had been so completely
+silenced and their arguments confuted by such conclusive evidence of the
+advantages of attacking that what had been discussed at the council--the
+coming battle and the victory that would certainly result from it--no
+longer seemed to be in the future but in the past. All the advantages
+were on our side. Our enormous forces, undoubtedly superior to
+Napoleon's, were concentrated in one place, the troops inspired by the
+Emperors' presence were eager for action. The strategic position where
+the operations would take place was familiar in all its details to the
+Austrian General Weyrother: a lucky accident had ordained that the
+Austrian army should maneuver the previous year on the very fields where
+the French had now to be fought; the adjacent locality was known and
+shown in every detail on the maps, and Bonaparte, evidently weakened,
+was undertaking nothing.
+
+Dolgorukov, one of the warmest advocates of an attack, had just returned
+from the council, tired and exhausted but eager and proud of the victory
+that had been gained. Prince Andrew introduced his protege, but Prince
+Dolgorukov politely and firmly pressing his hand said nothing to Boris
+and, evidently unable to suppress the thoughts which were uppermost in
+his mind at that moment, addressed Prince Andrew in French.
+
+"Ah, my dear fellow, what a battle we have gained! God grant that the
+one that will result from it will be as victorious! However, dear
+fellow," he said abruptly and eagerly, "I must confess to having been
+unjust to the Austrians and especially to Weyrother. What exactitude,
+what minuteness, what knowledge of the locality, what foresight for
+every eventuality, every possibility even to the smallest detail! No, my
+dear fellow, no conditions better than our present ones could have been
+devised. This combination of Austrian precision with Russian valor--what
+more could be wished for?"
+
+"So the attack is definitely resolved on?" asked Bolkonski.
+
+"And do you know, my dear fellow, it seems to me that Bonaparte has
+decidedly lost bearings, you know that a letter was received from him
+today for the Emperor." Dolgorukov smiled significantly.
+
+"Is that so? And what did he say?" inquired Bolkonski.
+
+"What can he say? Tra-di-ri-di-ra and so on... merely to gain time. I
+tell you he is in our hands, that's certain! But what was most amusing,"
+he continued, with a sudden, good-natured laugh, "was that we could not
+think how to address the reply! If not as 'Consul' and of course not as
+'Emperor,' it seemed to me it should be to 'General Bonaparte.'"
+
+"But between not recognizing him as Emperor and calling him General
+Bonaparte, there is a difference," remarked Bolkonski.
+
+"That's just it," interrupted Dolgorukov quickly, laughing. "You know
+Bilibin--he's a very clever fellow. He suggested addressing him as
+'Usurper and Enemy of Mankind.'"
+
+Dolgorukov laughed merrily.
+
+"Only that?" said Bolkonski.
+
+"All the same, it was Bilibin who found a suitable form for the address.
+He is a wise and clever fellow."
+
+"What was it?"
+
+"To the Head of the French Government... Au chef du gouvernement
+francais," said Dolgorukov, with grave satisfaction. "Good, wasn't it?"
+
+"Yes, but he will dislike it extremely," said Bolkonski.
+
+"Oh yes, very much! My brother knows him, he's dined with him--the
+present Emperor--more than once in Paris, and tells me he never met a
+more cunning or subtle diplomatist--you know, a combination of French
+adroitness and Italian play-acting! Do you know the tale about him and
+Count Markov? Count Markov was the only man who knew how to handle him.
+You know the story of the handkerchief? It is delightful!"
+
+And the talkative Dolgorukov, turning now to Boris, now to Prince
+Andrew, told how Bonaparte wishing to test Markov, our ambassador,
+purposely dropped a handkerchief in front of him and stood looking at
+Markov, probably expecting Markov to pick it up for him, and how Markov
+immediately dropped his own beside it and picked it up without touching
+Bonaparte's.
+
+"Delightful!" said Bolkonski. "But I have come to you, Prince, as a
+petitioner on behalf of this young man. You see..." but before Prince
+Andrew could finish, an aide-de-camp came in to summon Dolgorukov to the
+Emperor.
+
+"Oh, what a nuisance," said Dolgorukov, getting up hurriedly and
+pressing the hands of Prince Andrew and Boris. "You know I should be
+very glad to do all in my power both for you and for this dear young
+man." Again he pressed the hand of the latter with an expression of
+good-natured, sincere, and animated levity. "But you see... another
+time!"
+
+Boris was excited by the thought of being so close to the higher powers
+as he felt himself to be at that moment. He was conscious that here he
+was in contact with the springs that set in motion the enormous
+movements of the mass of which in his regiment he felt himself a tiny,
+obedient, and insignificant atom. They followed Prince Dolgorukov out
+into the corridor and met--coming out of the door of the Emperor's room
+by which Dolgorukov had entered--a short man in civilian clothes with a
+clever face and sharply projecting jaw which, without spoiling his face,
+gave him a peculiar vivacity and shiftiness of expression. This short
+man nodded to Dolgorukov as to an intimate friend and stared at Prince
+Andrew with cool intensity, walking straight toward him and evidently
+expecting him to bow or to step out of his way. Prince Andrew did
+neither: a look of animosity appeared on his face and the other turned
+away and went down the side of the corridor.
+
+"Who was that?" asked Boris.
+
+"He is one of the most remarkable, but to me most unpleasant of men--the
+Minister of Foreign Affairs, Prince Adam Czartoryski.... It is such men
+as he who decide the fate of nations," added Bolkonski with a sigh he
+could not suppress, as they passed out of the palace.
+
+Next day, the army began its campaign, and up to the very battle of
+Austerlitz, Boris was unable to see either Prince Andrew or Dolgorukov
+again and remained for a while with the Ismaylov regiment.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+At dawn on the sixteenth of November, Denisov's squadron, in which
+Nicholas Rostov served and which was in Prince Bagration's detachment,
+moved from the place where it had spent the night, advancing into action
+as arranged, and after going behind other columns for about two thirds
+of a mile was stopped on the highroad. Rostov saw the Cossacks and then
+the first and second squadrons of hussars and infantry battalions and
+artillery pass by and go forward and then Generals Bagration and
+Dolgorukov ride past with their adjutants. All the fear before action
+which he had experienced as previously, all the inner struggle to
+conquer that fear, all his dreams of distinguishing himself as a true
+hussar in this battle, had been wasted. Their squadron remained in
+reserve and Nicholas Rostov spent that day in a dull and wretched mood.
+At nine in the morning, he heard firing in front and shouts of hurrah,
+and saw wounded being brought back (there were not many of them), and at
+last he saw how a whole detachment of French cavalry was brought in,
+convoyed by a sotnya of Cossacks. Evidently the affair was over and,
+though not big, had been a successful engagement. The men and officers
+returning spoke of a brilliant victory, of the occupation of the town of
+Wischau and the capture of a whole French squadron. The day was bright
+and sunny after a sharp night frost, and the cheerful glitter of that
+autumn day was in keeping with the news of victory which was conveyed,
+not only by the tales of those who had taken part in it, but also by the
+joyful expression on the faces of soldiers, officers, generals, and
+adjutants, as they passed Rostov going or coming. And Nicholas, who had
+vainly suffered all the dread that precedes a battle and had spent that
+happy day in inactivity, was all the more depressed.
+
+"Come here, Wostov. Let's dwink to dwown our gwief!" shouted Denisov,
+who had settled down by the roadside with a flask and some food.
+
+The officers gathered round Denisov's canteen, eating and talking.
+
+"There! They are bringing another!" cried one of the officers,
+indicating a captive French dragoon who was being brought in on foot by
+two Cossacks.
+
+One of them was leading by the bridle a fine large French horse he had
+taken from the prisoner.
+
+"Sell us that horse!" Denisov called out to the Cossacks.
+
+"If you like, your honor!"
+
+The officers got up and stood round the Cossacks and their prisoner. The
+French dragoon was a young Alsatian who spoke French with a German
+accent. He was breathless with agitation, his face was red, and when he
+heard some French spoken he at once began speaking to the officers,
+addressing first one, then another. He said he would not have been
+taken, it was not his fault but the corporal's who had sent him to seize
+some horsecloths, though he had told him the Russians were there. And at
+every word he added: "But don't hurt my little horse!" and stroked the
+animal. It was plain that he did not quite grasp where he was. Now he
+excused himself for having been taken prisoner and now, imagining
+himself before his own officers, insisted on his soldierly discipline
+and zeal in the service. He brought with him into our rearguard all the
+freshness of atmosphere of the French army, which was so alien to us.
+
+The Cossacks sold the horse for two gold pieces, and Rostov, being the
+richest of the officers now that he had received his money, bought it.
+
+"But don't hurt my little horse!" said the Alsatian good-naturedly to
+Rostov when the animal was handed over to the hussar.
+
+Rostov smilingly reassured the dragoon and gave him money.
+
+"Alley! Alley!" said the Cossack, touching the prisoner's arm to make
+him go on.
+
+"The Emperor! The Emperor!" was suddenly heard among the hussars.
+
+All began to run and bustle, and Rostov saw coming up the road behind
+him several riders with white plumes in their hats. In a moment everyone
+was in his place, waiting.
+
+Rostov did not know or remember how he ran to his place and mounted.
+Instantly his regret at not having been in action and his dejected mood
+amid people of whom he was weary had gone, instantly every thought of
+himself had vanished. He was filled with happiness at his nearness to
+the Emperor. He felt that this nearness by itself made up to him for the
+day he had lost. He was happy as a lover when the longed-for moment of
+meeting arrives. Not daring to look round and without looking round, he
+was ecstatically conscious of his approach. He felt it not only from the
+sound of the hoofs of the approaching cavalcade, but because as he drew
+near everything grew brighter, more joyful, more significant, and more
+festive around him. Nearer and nearer to Rostov came that sun shedding
+beams of mild and majestic light around, and already he felt himself
+enveloped in those beams, he heard his voice, that kindly, calm, and
+majestic voice that was yet so simple! And as if in accord with Rostov's
+feeling, there was a deathly stillness amid which was heard the
+Emperor's voice.
+
+"The Pavlograd hussars?" he inquired.
+
+"The reserves, sire!" replied a voice, a very human one compared to that
+which had said: "The Pavlograd hussars?"
+
+The Emperor drew level with Rostov and halted. Alexander's face was even
+more beautiful than it had been three days before at the review. It
+shone with such gaiety and youth, such innocent youth, that it suggested
+the liveliness of a fourteen-year-old boy, and yet it was the face of
+the majestic Emperor. Casually, while surveying the squadron, the
+Emperor's eyes met Rostov's and rested on them for not more than two
+seconds. Whether or no the Emperor understood what was going on in
+Rostov's soul (it seemed to Rostov that he understood everything), at
+any rate his light-blue eyes gazed for about two seconds into Rostov's
+face. A gentle, mild light poured from them. Then all at once he raised
+his eyebrows, abruptly touched his horse with his left foot, and
+galloped on.
+
+The younger Emperor could not restrain his wish to be present at the
+battle and, in spite of the remonstrances of his courtiers, at twelve
+o'clock left the third column with which he had been and galloped toward
+the vanguard. Before he came up with the hussars, several adjutants met
+him with news of the successful result of the action.
+
+This battle, which consisted in the capture of a French squadron, was
+represented as a brilliant victory over the French, and so the Emperor
+and the whole army, especially while the smoke hung over the
+battlefield, believed that the French had been defeated and were
+retreating against their will. A few minutes after the Emperor had
+passed, the Pavlograd division was ordered to advance. In Wischau
+itself, a petty German town, Rostov saw the Emperor again. In the market
+place, where there had been some rather heavy firing before the
+Emperor's arrival, lay several killed and wounded soldiers whom there
+had not been time to move. The Emperor, surrounded by his suite of
+officers and courtiers, was riding a bobtailed chestnut mare, a
+different one from that which he had ridden at the review, and bending
+to one side he gracefully held a gold lorgnette to his eyes and looked
+at a soldier who lay prone, with blood on his uncovered head. The
+wounded soldier was so dirty, coarse, and revolting that his proximity
+to the Emperor shocked Rostov. Rostov saw how the Emperor's rather round
+shoulders shuddered as if a cold shiver had run down them, how his left
+foot began convulsively tapping the horse's side with the spur, and how
+the well-trained horse looked round unconcerned and did not stir. An
+adjutant, dismounting, lifted the soldier under the arms to place him on
+a stretcher that had been brought. The soldier groaned.
+
+"Gently, gently! Can't you do it more gently?" said the Emperor
+apparently suffering more than the dying soldier, and he rode away.
+
+Rostov saw tears filling the Emperor's eyes and heard him, as he was
+riding away, say to Czartoryski: "What a terrible thing war is: what a
+terrible thing! Quelle terrible chose que la guerre!"
+
+The troops of the vanguard were stationed before Wischau, within sight
+of the enemy's lines, which all day long had yielded ground to us at the
+least firing. The Emperor's gratitude was announced to the vanguard,
+rewards were promised, and the men received a double ration of vodka.
+The campfires crackled and the soldiers' songs resounded even more
+merrily than on the previous night. Denisov celebrated his promotion to
+the rank of major, and Rostov, who had already drunk enough, at the end
+of the feast proposed the Emperor's health. "Not 'our Sovereign, the
+Emperor,' as they say at official dinners," said he, "but the health of
+our Sovereign, that good, enchanting, and great man! Let us drink to his
+health and to the certain defeat of the French!"
+
+"If we fought before," he said, "not letting the French pass, as at
+Schon Grabern, what shall we not do now when he is at the front? We will
+all die for him gladly! Is it not so, gentlemen? Perhaps I am not saying
+it right, I have drunk a good deal--but that is how I feel, and so do
+you too! To the health of Alexander the First! Hurrah!"
+
+"Hurrah!" rang the enthusiastic voices of the officers.
+
+And the old cavalry captain, Kirsten, shouted enthusiastically and no
+less sincerely than the twenty-year-old Rostov.
+
+When the officers had emptied and smashed their glasses, Kirsten filled
+others and, in shirt sleeves and breeches, went glass in hand to the
+soldiers' bonfires and with his long gray mustache, his white chest
+showing under his open shirt, he stood in a majestic pose in the light
+of the campfire, waving his uplifted arm.
+
+"Lads! here's to our Sovereign, the Emperor, and victory over our
+enemies! Hurrah!" he exclaimed in his dashing, old, hussar's baritone.
+
+The hussars crowded round and responded heartily with loud shouts.
+
+Late that night, when all had separated, Denisov with his short hand
+patted his favorite, Rostov, on the shoulder.
+
+"As there's no one to fall in love with on campaign, he's fallen in love
+with the Tsar," he said.
+
+"Denisov, don't make fun of it!" cried Rostov. "It is such a lofty,
+beautiful feeling, such a..."
+
+"I believe it, I believe it, fwiend, and I share and appwove..."
+
+"No, you don't understand!"
+
+And Rostov got up and went wandering among the campfires, dreaming of
+what happiness it would be to die--not in saving the Emperor's life (he
+did not even dare to dream of that), but simply to die before his eyes.
+He really was in love with the Tsar and the glory of the Russian arms
+and the hope of future triumph. And he was not the only man to
+experience that feeling during those memorable days preceding the battle
+of Austerlitz: nine tenths of the men in the Russian army were then in
+love, though less ecstatically, with their Tsar and the glory of the
+Russian arms.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+The next day the Emperor stopped at Wischau, and Villier, his physician,
+was repeatedly summoned to see him. At headquarters and among the troops
+near by the news spread that the Emperor was unwell. He ate nothing and
+had slept badly that night, those around him reported. The cause of this
+indisposition was the strong impression made on his sensitive mind by
+the sight of the killed and wounded.
+
+At daybreak on the seventeenth, a French officer who had come with a
+flag of truce, demanding an audience with the Russian Emperor, was
+brought into Wischau from our outposts. This officer was Savary. The
+Emperor had only just fallen asleep and so Savary had to wait. At midday
+he was admitted to the Emperor, and an hour later he rode off with
+Prince Dolgorukov to the advanced post of the French army.
+
+It was rumored that Savary had been sent to propose to Alexander a
+meeting with Napoleon. To the joy and pride of the whole army, a
+personal interview was refused, and instead of the Sovereign, Prince
+Dolgorukov, the victor at Wischau, was sent with Savary to negotiate
+with Napoleon if, contrary to expectations, these negotiations were
+actuated by a real desire for peace.
+
+Toward evening Dolgorukov came back, went straight to the Tsar, and
+remained alone with him for a long time.
+
+On the eighteenth and nineteenth of November, the army advanced two
+days' march and the enemy's outposts after a brief interchange of shots
+retreated. In the highest army circles from midday on the nineteenth, a
+great, excitedly bustling activity began which lasted till the morning
+of the twentieth, when the memorable battle of Austerlitz was fought.
+
+Till midday on the nineteenth, the activity--the eager talk, running to
+and fro, and dispatching of adjutants--was confined to the Emperor's
+headquarters. But on the afternoon of that day, this activity reached
+Kutuzov's headquarters and the staffs of the commanders of columns. By
+evening, the adjutants had spread it to all ends and parts of the army,
+and in the night from the nineteenth to the twentieth, the whole eighty
+thousand allied troops rose from their bivouacs to the hum of voices,
+and the army swayed and started in one enormous mass six miles long.
+
+The concentrated activity which had begun at the Emperor's headquarters
+in the morning and had started the whole movement that followed was like
+the first movement of the main wheel of a large tower clock. One wheel
+slowly moved, another was set in motion, and a third, and wheels began
+to revolve faster and faster, levers and cogwheels to work, chimes to
+play, figures to pop out, and the hands to advance with regular motion
+as a result of all that activity.
+
+Just as in the mechanism of a clock, so in the mechanism of the military
+machine, an impulse once given leads to the final result; and just as
+indifferently quiescent till the moment when motion is transmitted to
+them are the parts of the mechanism which the impulse has not yet
+reached. Wheels creak on their axles as the cogs engage one another and
+the revolving pulleys whirr with the rapidity of their movement, but a
+neighboring wheel is as quiet and motionless as though it were prepared
+to remain so for a hundred years; but the moment comes when the lever
+catches it and obeying the impulse that wheel begins to creak and joins
+in the common motion the result and aim of which are beyond its ken.
+
+Just as in a clock, the result of the complicated motion of innumerable
+wheels and pulleys is merely a slow and regular movement of the hands
+which show the time, so the result of all the complicated human
+activities of 160,000 Russians and French--all their passions, desires,
+remorse, humiliations, sufferings, outbursts of pride, fear, and
+enthusiasm--was only the loss of the battle of Austerlitz, the so-called
+battle of the three Emperors--that is to say, a slow movement of the
+hand on the dial of human history.
+
+Prince Andrew was on duty that day and in constant attendance on the
+commander-in-chief.
+
+At six in the evening, Kutuzov went to the Emperor's headquarters and
+after staying but a short time with the Tsar went to see the grand
+marshal of the court, Count Tolstoy.
+
+Bolkonski took the opportunity to go in to get some details of the
+coming action from Dolgorukov. He felt that Kutuzov was upset and
+dissatisfied about something and that at headquarters they were
+dissatisfied with him, and also that at the Emperor's headquarters
+everyone adopted toward him the tone of men who know something others do
+not know: he therefore wished to speak to Dolgorukov.
+
+"Well, how d'you do, my dear fellow?" said Dolgorukov, who was sitting
+at tea with Bilibin. "The fete is for tomorrow. How is your old fellow?
+Out of sorts?"
+
+"I won't say he is out of sorts, but I fancy he would like to be heard."
+
+"But they heard him at the council of war and will hear him when he
+talks sense, but to temporize and wait for something now when Bonaparte
+fears nothing so much as a general battle is impossible."
+
+"Yes, you have seen him?" said Prince Andrew. "Well, what is Bonaparte
+like? How did he impress you?"
+
+"Yes, I saw him, and am convinced that he fears nothing so much as a
+general engagement," repeated Dolgorukov, evidently prizing this general
+conclusion which he had arrived at from his interview with Napoleon. "If
+he weren't afraid of a battle why did he ask for that interview? Why
+negotiate, and above all why retreat, when to retreat is so contrary to
+his method of conducting war? Believe me, he is afraid, afraid of a
+general battle. His hour has come! Mark my words!"
+
+"But tell me, what is he like, eh?" said Prince Andrew again.
+
+"He is a man in a gray overcoat, very anxious that I should call him
+'Your Majesty,' but who, to his chagrin, got no title from me! That's
+the sort of man he is, and nothing more," replied Dolgorukov, looking
+round at Bilibin with a smile.
+
+"Despite my great respect for old Kutuzov," he continued, "we should be
+a nice set of fellows if we were to wait about and so give him a chance
+to escape, or to trick us, now that we certainly have him in our hands!
+No, we mustn't forget Suvorov and his rule--not to put yourself in a
+position to be attacked, but yourself to attack. Believe me in war the
+energy of young men often shows the way better than all the experience
+of old Cunctators."
+
+"But in what position are we going to attack him? I have been at the
+outposts today and it is impossible to say where his chief forces are
+situated," said Prince Andrew.
+
+He wished to explain to Dolgorukov a plan of attack he had himself
+formed.
+
+"Oh, that is all the same," Dolgorukov said quickly, and getting up he
+spread a map on the table. "All eventualities have been foreseen. If he
+is standing before Brunn..."
+
+And Prince Dolgorukov rapidly but indistinctly explained Weyrother's
+plan of a flanking movement.
+
+Prince Andrew began to reply and to state his own plan, which might have
+been as good as Weyrother's, but for the disadvantage that Weyrother's
+had already been approved. As soon as Prince Andrew began to demonstrate
+the defects of the latter and the merits of his own plan, Prince
+Dolgorukov ceased to listen to him and gazed absent-mindedly not at the
+map, but at Prince Andrew's face.
+
+"There will be a council of war at Kutuzov's tonight, though; you can
+say all this there," remarked Dolgorukov.
+
+"I will do so," said Prince Andrew, moving away from the map.
+
+"Whatever are you bothering about, gentlemen?" said Bilibin, who, till
+then, had listened with an amused smile to their conversation and now
+was evidently ready with a joke. "Whether tomorrow brings victory or
+defeat, the glory of our Russian arms is secure. Except your Kutuzov,
+there is not a single Russian in command of a column! The commanders
+are: Herr General Wimpfen, le Comte de Langeron, le Prince de
+Lichtenstein, le Prince, de Hohenlohe, and finally Prishprish, and so on
+like all those Polish names."
+
+"Be quiet, backbiter!" said Dolgorukov. "It is not true; there are now
+two Russians, Miloradovich, and Dokhturov, and there would be a third,
+Count Arakcheev, if his nerves were not too weak."
+
+"However, I think General Kutuzov has come out," said Prince Andrew. "I
+wish you good luck and success, gentlemen!" he added and went out after
+shaking hands with Dolgorukov and Bilibin.
+
+On the way home, Prince Andrew could not refrain from asking Kutuzov,
+who was sitting silently beside him, what he thought of tomorrow's
+battle.
+
+Kutuzov looked sternly at his adjutant and, after a pause, replied: "I
+think the battle will be lost, and so I told Count Tolstoy and asked him
+to tell the Emperor. What do you think he replied? 'But, my dear
+general, I am engaged with rice and cutlets, look after military matters
+yourself!' Yes... That was the answer I got!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+Shortly after nine o'clock that evening, Weyrother drove with his plans
+to Kutuzov's quarters where the council of war was to be held. All the
+commanders of columns were summoned to the commander-in-chief's and with
+the exception of Prince Bagration, who declined to come, were all there
+at the appointed time.
+
+Weyrother, who was in full control of the proposed battle, by his
+eagerness and briskness presented a marked contrast to the dissatisfied
+and drowsy Kutuzov, who reluctantly played the part of chairman and
+president of the council of war. Weyrother evidently felt himself to be
+at the head of a movement that had already become unrestrainable. He was
+like a horse running downhill harnessed to a heavy cart. Whether he was
+pulling it or being pushed by it he did not know, but rushed along at
+headlong speed with no time to consider what this movement might lead
+to. Weyrother had been twice that evening to the enemy's picket line to
+reconnoiter personally, and twice to the Emperors, Russian and Austrian,
+to report and explain, and to his headquarters where he had dictated the
+dispositions in German, and now, much exhausted, he arrived at
+Kutuzov's.
+
+He was evidently so busy that he even forgot to be polite to the
+commander in chief. He interrupted him, talked rapidly and indistinctly,
+without looking at the man he was addressing, and did not reply to
+questions put to him. He was bespattered with mud and had a pitiful,
+weary, and distracted air, though at the same time he was haughty and
+self-confident.
+
+Kutuzov was occupying a nobleman's castle of modest dimensions near
+Ostralitz. In the large drawing room which had become the commander in
+chief's office were gathered Kutuzov himself, Weyrother, and the members
+of the council of war. They were drinking tea, and only awaited Prince
+Bagration to begin the council. At last Bagration's orderly came with
+the news that the prince could not attend. Prince Andrew came in to
+inform the commander-in-chief of this and, availing himself of
+permission previously given him by Kutuzov to be present at the council,
+he remained in the room.
+
+"Since Prince Bagration is not coming, we may begin," said Weyrother,
+hurriedly rising from his seat and going up to the table on which an
+enormous map of the environs of Brunn was spread out.
+
+Kutuzov, with his uniform unbuttoned so that his fat neck bulged over
+his collar as if escaping, was sitting almost asleep in a low chair,
+with his podgy old hands resting symmetrically on its arms. At the sound
+of Weyrother's voice, he opened his one eye with an effort.
+
+"Yes, yes, if you please! It is already late," said he, and nodding his
+head he let it droop and again closed his eye.
+
+If at first the members of the council thought that Kutuzov was
+pretending to sleep, the sounds his nose emitted during the reading that
+followed proved that the commander-in-chief at that moment was absorbed
+by a far more serious matter than a desire to show his contempt for the
+dispositions or anything else--he was engaged in satisfying the
+irresistible human need for sleep. He really was asleep. Weyrother, with
+the gesture of a man too busy to lose a moment, glanced at Kutuzov and,
+having convinced himself that he was asleep, took up a paper and in a
+loud, monotonous voice began to read out the dispositions for the
+impending battle, under a heading which he also read out:
+
+"Dispositions for an attack on the enemy position behind Kobelnitz and
+Sokolnitz, November 30, 1805."
+
+The dispositions were very complicated and difficult. They began as
+follows:
+
+"As the enemy's left wing rests on wooded hills and his right extends
+along Kobelnitz and Sokolnitz behind the ponds that are there, while we,
+on the other hand, with our left wing by far outflank his right, it is
+advantageous to attack the enemy's latter wing especially if we occupy
+the villages of Sokolnitz and Kobelnitz, whereby we can both fall on his
+flank and pursue him over the plain between Schlappanitz and the
+Thuerassa forest, avoiding the defiles of Schlappanitz and Bellowitz
+which cover the enemy's front. For this object it is necessary that...
+The first column marches... The second column marches... The third
+column marches..." and so on, read Weyrother.
+
+The generals seemed to listen reluctantly to the difficult dispositions.
+The tall, fair-haired General Buxhowden stood, leaning his back against
+the wall, his eyes fixed on a burning candle, and seemed not to listen
+or even to wish to be thought to listen. Exactly opposite Weyrother,
+with his glistening wide-open eyes fixed upon him and his mustache
+twisted upwards, sat the ruddy Miloradovich in a military pose, his
+elbows turned outwards, his hands on his knees, and his shoulders
+raised. He remained stubbornly silent, gazing at Weyrother's face, and
+only turned away his eyes when the Austrian chief of staff finished
+reading. Then Miloradovich looked round significantly at the other
+generals. But one could not tell from that significant look whether he
+agreed or disagreed and was satisfied or not with the arrangements. Next
+to Weyrother sat Count Langeron who, with a subtle smile that never left
+his typically southern French face during the whole time of the reading,
+gazed at his delicate fingers which rapidly twirled by its corners a
+gold snuffbox on which was a portrait. In the middle of one of the
+longest sentences, he stopped the rotary motion of the snuffbox, raised
+his head, and with inimical politeness lurking in the corners of his
+thin lips interrupted Weyrother, wishing to say something. But the
+Austrian general, continuing to read, frowned angrily and jerked his
+elbows, as if to say: "You can tell me your views later, but now be so
+good as to look at the map and listen." Langeron lifted his eyes with an
+expression of perplexity, turned round to Miloradovich as if seeking an
+explanation, but meeting the latter's impressive but meaningless gaze
+drooped his eyes sadly and again took to twirling his snuffbox.
+
+"A geography lesson!" he muttered as if to himself, but loud enough to
+be heard.
+
+Przebyszewski, with respectful but dignified politeness, held his hand
+to his ear toward Weyrother, with the air of a man absorbed in
+attention. Dohkturov, a little man, sat opposite Weyrother, with an
+assiduous and modest mien, and stooping over the outspread map
+conscientiously studied the dispositions and the unfamiliar locality. He
+asked Weyrother several times to repeat words he had not clearly heard
+and the difficult names of villages. Weyrother complied and Dohkturov
+noted them down.
+
+When the reading which lasted more than an hour was over, Langeron again
+brought his snuffbox to rest and, without looking at Weyrother or at
+anyone in particular, began to say how difficult it was to carry out
+such a plan in which the enemy's position was assumed to be known,
+whereas it was perhaps not known, since the enemy was in movement.
+Langeron's objections were valid but it was obvious that their chief aim
+was to show General Weyrother--who had read his dispositions with as
+much self-confidence as if he were addressing school children--that he
+had to do, not with fools, but with men who could teach him something in
+military matters.
+
+When the monotonous sound of Weyrother's voice ceased, Kutuzov opened
+his eye as a miller wakes up when the soporific drone of the mill wheel
+is interrupted. He listened to what Langeron said, as if remarking, "So
+you are still at that silly business!" quickly closed his eye again, and
+let his head sink still lower.
+
+Langeron, trying as virulently as possible to sting Weyrother's vanity
+as author of the military plan, argued that Bonaparte might easily
+attack instead of being attacked, and so render the whole of this plan
+perfectly worthless. Weyrother met all objections with a firm and
+contemptuous smile, evidently prepared beforehand to meet all objections
+be they what they might.
+
+"If he could attack us, he would have done so today," said he.
+
+"So you think he is powerless?" said Langeron.
+
+"He has forty thousand men at most," replied Weyrother, with the smile
+of a doctor to whom an old wife wishes to explain the treatment of a
+case.
+
+"In that case he is inviting his doom by awaiting our attack," said
+Langeron, with a subtly ironical smile, again glancing round for support
+to Miloradovich who was near him.
+
+But Miloradovich was at that moment evidently thinking of anything
+rather than of what the generals were disputing about.
+
+"Ma foi!" said he, "tomorrow we shall see all that on the battlefield."
+
+Weyrother again gave that smile which seemed to say that to him it was
+strange and ridiculous to meet objections from Russian generals and to
+have to prove to them what he had not merely convinced himself of, but
+had also convinced the sovereign Emperors of.
+
+"The enemy has quenched his fires and a continual noise is heard from
+his camp," said he. "What does that mean? Either he is retreating, which
+is the only thing we need fear, or he is changing his position." (He
+smiled ironically.) "But even if he also took up a position in the
+Thuerassa, he merely saves us a great deal of trouble and all our
+arrangements to the minutest detail remain the same."
+
+"How is that?..." began Prince Andrew, who had for long been waiting an
+opportunity to express his doubts.
+
+Kutuzov here woke up, coughed heavily, and looked round at the generals.
+
+"Gentlemen, the dispositions for tomorrow--or rather for today, for it
+is past midnight--cannot now be altered," said he. "You have heard them,
+and we shall all do our duty. But before a battle, there is nothing more
+important..." he paused, "than to have a good sleep."
+
+He moved as if to rise. The generals bowed and retired. It was past
+midnight. Prince Andrew went out.
+
+The council of war, at which Prince Andrew had not been able to express
+his opinion as he had hoped to, left on him a vague and uneasy
+impression. Whether Dolgorukov and Weyrother, or Kutuzov, Langeron, and
+the others who did not approve of the plan of attack, were right--he did
+not know. "But was it really not possible for Kutuzov to state his views
+plainly to the Emperor? Is it possible that on account of court and
+personal considerations tens of thousands of lives, and my life, my
+life," he thought, "must be risked?"
+
+"Yes, it is very likely that I shall be killed tomorrow," he thought.
+And suddenly, at this thought of death, a whole series of most distant,
+most intimate, memories rose in his imagination: he remembered his last
+parting from his father and his wife; he remembered the days when he
+first loved her. He thought of her pregnancy and felt sorry for her and
+for himself, and in a nervously emotional and softened mood he went out
+of the hut in which he was billeted with Nesvitski and began to walk up
+and down before it.
+
+The night was foggy and through the fog the moonlight gleamed
+mysteriously. "Yes, tomorrow, tomorrow!" he thought. "Tomorrow
+everything may be over for me! All these memories will be no more, none
+of them will have any meaning for me. Tomorrow perhaps, even certainly,
+I have a presentiment that for the first time I shall have to show all I
+can do." And his fancy pictured the battle, its loss, the concentration
+of fighting at one point, and the hesitation of all the commanders. And
+then that happy moment, that Toulon for which he had so long waited,
+presents itself to him at last. He firmly and clearly expresses his
+opinion to Kutuzov, to Weyrother, and to the Emperors. All are struck by
+the justness of his views, but no one undertakes to carry them out, so
+he takes a regiment, a division-stipulates that no one is to interfere
+with his arrangements--leads his division to the decisive point, and
+gains the victory alone. "But death and suffering?" suggested another
+voice. Prince Andrew, however, did not answer that voice and went on
+dreaming of his triumphs. The dispositions for the next battle are
+planned by him alone. Nominally he is only an adjutant on Kutuzov's
+staff, but he does everything alone. The next battle is won by him
+alone. Kutuzov is removed and he is appointed... "Well and then?" asked
+the other voice. "If before that you are not ten times wounded, killed,
+or betrayed, well... what then?..." "Well then," Prince Andrew answered
+himself, "I don't know what will happen and don't want to know, and
+can't, but if I want this--want glory, want to be known to men, want to
+be loved by them, it is not my fault that I want it and want nothing but
+that and live only for that. Yes, for that alone! I shall never tell
+anyone, but, oh God! what am I to do if I love nothing but fame and
+men's esteem? Death, wounds, the loss of family--I fear nothing. And
+precious and dear as many persons are to me--father, sister, wife--those
+dearest to me--yet dreadful and unnatural as it seems, I would give them
+all at once for a moment of glory, of triumph over men, of love from men
+I don't know and never shall know, for the love of these men here," he
+thought, as he listened to voices in Kutuzov's courtyard. The voices
+were those of the orderlies who were packing up; one voice, probably a
+coachman's, was teasing Kutuzov's old cook whom Prince Andrew knew, and
+who was called Tit. He was saying, "Tit, I say, Tit!"
+
+"Well?" returned the old man.
+
+"Go, Tit, thresh a bit!" said the wag.
+
+"Oh, go to the devil!" called out a voice, drowned by the laughter of
+the orderlies and servants.
+
+"All the same, I love and value nothing but triumph over them all, I
+value this mystic power and glory that is floating here above me in this
+mist!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+That same night, Rostov was with a platoon on skirmishing duty in front
+of Bagration's detachment. His hussars were placed along the line in
+couples and he himself rode along the line trying to master the
+sleepiness that kept coming over him. An enormous space, with our army's
+campfires dimly glowing in the fog, could be seen behind him; in front
+of him was misty darkness. Rostov could see nothing, peer as he would
+into that foggy distance: now something gleamed gray, now there was
+something black, now little lights seemed to glimmer where the enemy
+ought to be, now he fancied it was only something in his own eyes. His
+eyes kept closing, and in his fancy appeared--now the Emperor, now
+Denisov, and now Moscow memories--and he again hurriedly opened his eyes
+and saw close before him the head and ears of the horse he was riding,
+and sometimes, when he came within six paces of them, the black figures
+of hussars, but in the distance was still the same misty darkness. "Why
+not?... It might easily happen," thought Rostov, "that the Emperor will
+meet me and give me an order as he would to any other officer; he'll
+say: 'Go and find out what's there.' There are many stories of his
+getting to know an officer in just such a chance way and attaching him
+to himself! What if he gave me a place near him? Oh, how I would guard
+him, how I would tell him the truth, how I would unmask his deceivers!"
+And in order to realize vividly his love devotion to the sovereign,
+Rostov pictured to himself an enemy or a deceitful German, whom he would
+not only kill with pleasure but whom he would slap in the face before
+the Emperor. Suddenly a distant shout aroused him. He started and opened
+his eyes.
+
+"Where am I? Oh yes, in the skirmishing line... pass and watchword--
+shaft, Olmutz. What a nuisance that our squadron will be in reserve
+tomorrow," he thought. "I'll ask leave to go to the front, this may be
+my only chance of seeing the Emperor. It won't be long now before I am
+off duty. I'll take another turn and when I get back I'll go to the
+general and ask him." He readjusted himself in the saddle and touched up
+his horse to ride once more round his hussars. It seemed to him that it
+was getting lighter. To the left he saw a sloping descent lit up, and
+facing it a black knoll that seemed as steep as a wall. On this knoll
+there was a white patch that Rostov could not at all make out: was it a
+glade in the wood lit up by the moon, or some unmelted snow, or some
+white houses? He even thought something moved on that white spot. "I
+expect it's snow... that spot... a spot--une tache," he thought. "There
+now... it's not a tache... Natasha... sister, black eyes... Na...
+tasha... (Won't she be surprised when I tell her how I've seen the
+Emperor?) Natasha... take my sabretache..."--"Keep to the right, your
+honor, there are bushes here," came the voice of an hussar, past whom
+Rostov was riding in the act of falling asleep. Rostov lifted his head
+that had sunk almost to his horse's mane and pulled up beside the
+hussar. He was succumbing to irresistible, youthful, childish
+drowsiness. "But what was I thinking? I mustn't forget. How shall I
+speak to the Emperor? No, that's not it--that's tomorrow. Oh yes!
+Natasha... sabretache... saber them... Whom? The hussars... Ah, the
+hussars with mustaches. Along the Tverskaya Street rode the hussar with
+mustaches... I thought about him too, just opposite Guryev's house...
+Old Guryev.... Oh, but Denisov's a fine fellow. But that's all nonsense.
+The chief thing is that the Emperor is here. How he looked at me and
+wished to say something, but dared not.... No, it was I who dared not.
+But that's nonsense, the chief thing is not to forget the important
+thing I was thinking of. Yes, Na-tasha, sabretache, oh, yes, yes! That's
+right!" And his head once more sank to his horse's neck. All at once it
+seemed to him that he was being fired at. "What? What? What?... Cut them
+down! What?..." said Rostov, waking up. At the moment he opened his eyes
+he heard in front of him, where the enemy was, the long-drawn shouts of
+thousands of voices. His horse and the horse of the hussar near him
+pricked their ears at these shouts. Over there, where the shouting came
+from, a fire flared up and went out again, then another, and all along
+the French line on the hill fires flared up and the shouting grew louder
+and louder. Rostov could hear the sound of French words but could not
+distinguish them. The din of many voices was too great; all he could
+hear was: "ahahah!" and "rrrr!"
+
+"What's that? What do you make of it?" said Rostov to the hussar beside
+him. "That must be the enemy's camp!"
+
+The hussar did not reply.
+
+"Why, don't you hear it?" Rostov asked again, after waiting for a reply.
+
+"Who can tell, your honor?" replied the hussar reluctantly.
+
+"From the direction, it must be the enemy," repeated Rostov.
+
+"It may be he or it may be nothing," muttered the hussar. "It's dark...
+Steady!" he cried to his fidgeting horse.
+
+Rostov's horse was also getting restive: it pawed the frozen ground,
+pricking its ears at the noise and looking at the lights. The shouting
+grew still louder and merged into a general roar that only an army of
+several thousand men could produce. The lights spread farther and
+farther, probably along the line of the French camp. Rostov no longer
+wanted to sleep. The gay triumphant shouting of the enemy army had a
+stimulating effect on him. "Vive l'Empereur! L'Empereur!" he now heard
+distinctly.
+
+"They can't be far off, probably just beyond the stream," he said to the
+hussar beside him.
+
+The hussar only sighed without replying and coughed angrily. The sound
+of horse's hoofs approaching at a trot along the line of hussars was
+heard, and out of the foggy darkness the figure of a sergeant of hussars
+suddenly appeared, looming huge as an elephant.
+
+"Your honor, the generals!" said the sergeant, riding up to Rostov.
+
+Rostov, still looking round toward the fires and the shouts, rode with
+the sergeant to meet some mounted men who were riding along the line.
+One was on a white horse. Prince Bagration and Prince Dolgorukov with
+their adjutants had come to witness the curious phenomenon of the lights
+and shouts in the enemy's camp. Rostov rode up to Bagration, reported to
+him, and then joined the adjutants listening to what the generals were
+saying.
+
+"Believe me," said Prince Dolgorukov, addressing Bagration, "it is
+nothing but a trick! He has retreated and ordered the rearguard to
+kindle fires and make a noise to deceive us."
+
+"Hardly," said Bagration. "I saw them this evening on that knoll; if
+they had retreated they would have withdrawn from that too.... Officer!"
+said Bagration to Rostov, "are the enemy's skirmishers still there?"
+
+"They were there this evening, but now I don't know, your excellency.
+Shall I go with some of my hussars to see?" replied Rostov.
+
+Bagration stopped and, before replying, tried to see Rostov's face in
+the mist.
+
+"Well, go and see," he said, after a pause.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+Rostov spurred his horse, called to Sergeant Fedchenko and two other
+hussars, told them to follow him, and trotted downhill in the direction
+from which the shouting came. He felt both frightened and pleased to be
+riding alone with three hussars into that mysterious and dangerous misty
+distance where no one had been before him. Bagration called to him from
+the hill not to go beyond the stream, but Rostov pretended not to hear
+him and did not stop but rode on and on, continually mistaking bushes
+for trees and gullies for men and continually discovering his mistakes.
+Having descended the hill at a trot, he no longer saw either our own or
+the enemy's fires, but heard the shouting of the French more loudly and
+distinctly. In the valley he saw before him something like a river, but
+when he reached it he found it was a road. Having come out onto the road
+he reined in his horse, hesitating whether to ride along it or cross it
+and ride over the black field up the hillside. To keep to the road which
+gleamed white in the mist would have been safer because it would be
+easier to see people coming along it. "Follow me!" said he, crossed the
+road, and began riding up the hill at a gallop toward the point where
+the French pickets had been standing that evening.
+
+"Your honor, there he is!" cried one of the hussars behind him. And
+before Rostov had time to make out what the black thing was that had
+suddenly appeared in the fog, there was a flash, followed by a report,
+and a bullet whizzing high up in the mist with a plaintive sound passed
+out of hearing. Another musket missed fire but flashed in the pan.
+Rostov turned his horse and galloped back. Four more reports followed at
+intervals, and the bullets passed somewhere in the fog singing in
+different tones. Rostov reined in his horse, whose spirits had risen,
+like his own, at the firing, and went back at a footpace. "Well, some
+more! Some more!" a merry voice was saying in his soul. But no more
+shots came.
+
+Only when approaching Bagration did Rostov let his horse gallop again,
+and with his hand at the salute rode up to the general.
+
+Dolgorukov was still insisting that the French had retreated and had
+only lit fires to deceive us.
+
+"What does that prove?" he was saying as Rostov rode up. "They might
+retreat and leave the pickets."
+
+"It's plain that they have not all gone yet, Prince," said Bagration.
+"Wait till tomorrow morning, we'll find out everything tomorrow."
+
+"The picket is still on the hill, your excellency, just where it was in
+the evening," reported Rostov, stooping forward with his hand at the
+salute and unable to repress the smile of delight induced by his ride
+and especially by the sound of the bullets.
+
+"Very good, very good," said Bagration. "Thank you, officer."
+
+"Your excellency," said Rostov, "may I ask a favor?"
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Tomorrow our squadron is to be in reserve. May I ask to be attached to
+the first squadron?"
+
+"What's your name?"
+
+"Count Rostov."
+
+"Oh, very well, you may stay in attendance on me."
+
+"Count Ilya Rostov's son?" asked Dolgorukov.
+
+But Rostov did not reply.
+
+"Then I may reckon on it, your excellency?"
+
+"I will give the order."
+
+"Tomorrow very likely I may be sent with some message to the Emperor,"
+thought Rostov.
+
+"Thank God!"
+
+The fires and shouting in the enemy's army were occasioned by the fact
+that while Napoleon's proclamation was being read to the troops the
+Emperor himself rode round his bivouacs. The soldiers, on seeing him,
+lit wisps of straw and ran after him, shouting, "Vive l'Empereur!"
+Napoleon's proclamation was as follows:
+
+Soldiers! The Russian army is advancing against you to avenge the
+Austrian army of Ulm. They are the same battalions you broke at
+Hollabrunn and have pursued ever since to this place. The position we
+occupy is a strong one, and while they are marching to go round me on
+the right they will expose a flank to me. Soldiers! I will myself direct
+your battalions. I will keep out of fire if you with your habitual valor
+carry disorder and confusion into the enemy's ranks, but should victory
+be in doubt, even for a moment, you will see your Emperor exposing
+himself to the first blows of the enemy, for there must be no doubt of
+victory, especially on this day when what is at stake is the honor of
+the French infantry, so necessary to the honor of our nation.
+
+Do not break your ranks on the plea of removing the wounded! Let every
+man be fully imbued with the thought that we must defeat these hirelings
+of England, inspired by such hatred of our nation! This victory will
+conclude our campaign and we can return to winter quarters, where fresh
+French troops who are being raised in France will join us, and the peace
+I shall conclude will be worthy of my people, of you, and of myself.
+
+NAPOLEON
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+At five in the morning it was still quite dark. The troops of the
+center, the reserves, and Bagration's right flank had not yet moved, but
+on the left flank the columns of infantry, cavalry, and artillery, which
+were to be the first to descend the heights to attack the French right
+flank and drive it into the Bohemian mountains according to plan, were
+already up and astir. The smoke of the campfires, into which they were
+throwing everything superfluous, made the eyes smart. It was cold and
+dark. The officers were hurriedly drinking tea and breakfasting, the
+soldiers, munching biscuit and beating a tattoo with their feet to warm
+themselves, gathering round the fires throwing into the flames the
+remains of sheds, chairs, tables, wheels, tubs, and everything that they
+did not want or could not carry away with them. Austrian column guides
+were moving in and out among the Russian troops and served as heralds of
+the advance. As soon as an Austrian officer showed himself near a
+commanding officer's quarters, the regiment began to move: the soldiers
+ran from the fires, thrust their pipes into their boots, their bags into
+the carts, got their muskets ready, and formed rank. The officers
+buttoned up their coats, buckled on their swords and pouches, and moved
+along the ranks shouting. The train drivers and orderlies harnessed and
+packed the wagons and tied on the loads. The adjutants and battalion and
+regimental commanders mounted, crossed themselves, gave final
+instructions, orders, and commissions to the baggage men who remained
+behind, and the monotonous tramp of thousands of feet resounded. The
+column moved forward without knowing where and unable, from the masses
+around them, the smoke and the increasing fog, to see either the place
+they were leaving or that to which they were going.
+
+A soldier on the march is hemmed in and borne along by his regiment as
+much as a sailor is by his ship. However far he has walked, whatever
+strange, unknown, and dangerous places he reaches, just as a sailor is
+always surrounded by the same decks, masts, and rigging of his ship, so
+the soldier always has around him the same comrades, the same ranks, the
+same sergeant major Ivan Mitrich, the same company dog Jack, and the
+same commanders. The sailor rarely cares to know the latitude in which
+his ship is sailing, but on the day of battle--heaven knows how and
+whence--a stern note of which all are conscious sounds in the moral
+atmosphere of an army, announcing the approach of something decisive and
+solemn, and awakening in the men an unusual curiosity. On the day of
+battle the soldiers excitedly try to get beyond the interests of their
+regiment, they listen intently, look about, and eagerly ask concerning
+what is going on around them.
+
+The fog had grown so dense that though it was growing light they could
+not see ten paces ahead. Bushes looked like gigantic trees and level
+ground like cliffs and slopes. Anywhere, on any side, one might
+encounter an enemy invisible ten paces off. But the columns advanced for
+a long time, always in the same fog, descending and ascending hills,
+avoiding gardens and enclosures, going over new and unknown ground, and
+nowhere encountering the enemy. On the contrary, the soldiers became
+aware that in front, behind, and on all sides, other Russian columns
+were moving in the same direction. Every soldier felt glad to know that
+to the unknown place where he was going, many more of our men were going
+too.
+
+"There now, the Kurskies have also gone past," was being said in the
+ranks.
+
+"It's wonderful what a lot of our troops have gathered, lads! Last night
+I looked at the campfires and there was no end of them. A regular
+Moscow!"
+
+Though none of the column commanders rode up to the ranks or talked to
+the men (the commanders, as we saw at the council of war, were out of
+humor and dissatisfied with the affair, and so did not exert themselves
+to cheer the men but merely carried out the orders), yet the troops
+marched gaily, as they always do when going into action, especially to
+an attack. But when they had marched for about an hour in the dense fog,
+the greater part of the men had to halt and an unpleasant consciousness
+of some dislocation and blunder spread through the ranks. How such a
+consciousness is communicated is very difficult to define, but it
+certainly is communicated very surely, and flows rapidly, imperceptibly,
+and irrepressibly, as water does in a creek. Had the Russian army been
+alone without any allies, it might perhaps have been a long time before
+this consciousness of mismanagement became a general conviction, but as
+it was, the disorder was readily and naturally attributed to the stupid
+Germans, and everyone was convinced that a dangerous muddle had been
+occasioned by the sausage eaters.
+
+"Why have we stopped? Is the way blocked? Or have we already come up
+against the French?"
+
+"No, one can't hear them. They'd be firing if we had."
+
+"They were in a hurry enough to start us, and now here we stand in the
+middle of a field without rhyme or reason. It's all those damned
+Germans' muddling! What stupid devils!"
+
+"Yes, I'd send them on in front, but no fear, they're crowding up
+behind. And now here we stand hungry."
+
+"I say, shall we soon be clear? They say the cavalry are blocking the
+way," said an officer.
+
+"Ah, those damned Germans! They don't know their own country!" said
+another.
+
+"What division are you?" shouted an adjutant, riding up.
+
+"The Eighteenth."
+
+"Then why are you here? You should have gone on long ago, now you won't
+get there till evening."
+
+"What stupid orders! They don't themselves know what they are doing!"
+said the officer and rode off.
+
+Then a general rode past shouting something angrily, not in Russian.
+
+"Tafa-lafa! But what he's jabbering no one can make out," said a
+soldier, mimicking the general who had ridden away. "I'd shoot them, the
+scoundrels!"
+
+"We were ordered to be at the place before nine, but we haven't got
+halfway. Fine orders!" was being repeated on different sides.
+
+And the feeling of energy with which the troops had started began to
+turn into vexation and anger at the stupid arrangements and at the
+Germans.
+
+The cause of the confusion was that while the Austrian cavalry was
+moving toward our left flank, the higher command found that our center
+was too far separated from our right flank and the cavalry were all
+ordered to turn back to the right. Several thousand cavalry crossed in
+front of the infantry, who had to wait.
+
+At the front an altercation occurred between an Austrian guide and a
+Russian general. The general shouted a demand that the cavalry should be
+halted, the Austrian argued that not he, but the higher command, was to
+blame. The troops meanwhile stood growing listless and dispirited. After
+an hour's delay they at last moved on, descending the hill. The fog that
+was dispersing on the hill lay still more densely below, where they were
+descending. In front in the fog a shot was heard and then another, at
+first irregularly at varying intervals--trata... tat--and then more and
+more regularly and rapidly, and the action at the Goldbach Stream began.
+
+Not expecting to come on the enemy down by the stream, and having
+stumbled on him in the fog, hearing no encouraging word from their
+commanders, and with a consciousness of being too late spreading through
+the ranks, and above all being unable to see anything in front or around
+them in the thick fog, the Russians exchanged shots with the enemy
+lazily and advanced and again halted, receiving no timely orders from
+the officers or adjutants who wandered about in the fog in those unknown
+surroundings unable to find their own regiments. In this way the action
+began for the first, second, and third columns, which had gone down into
+the valley. The fourth column, with which Kutuzov was, stood on the
+Pratzen Heights.
+
+Below, where the fight was beginning, there was still thick fog; on the
+higher ground it was clearing, but nothing could be seen of what was
+going on in front. Whether all the enemy forces were, as we supposed,
+six miles away, or whether they were near by in that sea of mist, no one
+knew till after eight o'clock.
+
+It was nine o'clock in the morning. The fog lay unbroken like a sea down
+below, but higher up at the village of Schlappanitz where Napoleon stood
+with his marshals around him, it was quite light. Above him was a clear
+blue sky, and the sun's vast orb quivered like a huge hollow, crimson
+float on the surface of that milky sea of mist. The whole French army,
+and even Napoleon himself with his staff, were not on the far side of
+the streams and hollows of Sokolnitz and Schlappanitz beyond which we
+intended to take up our position and begin the action, but were on this
+side, so close to our own forces that Napoleon with the naked eye could
+distinguish a mounted man from one on foot. Napoleon, in the blue cloak
+which he had worn on his Italian campaign, sat on his small gray Arab
+horse a little in front of his marshals. He gazed silently at the hills
+which seemed to rise out of the sea of mist and on which the Russian
+troops were moving in the distance, and he listened to the sounds of
+firing in the valley. Not a single muscle of his face--which in those
+days was still thin--moved. His gleaming eyes were fixed intently on one
+spot. His predictions were being justified. Part of the Russian force
+had already descended into the valley toward the ponds and lakes and
+part were leaving these Pratzen Heights which he intended to attack and
+regarded as the key to the position. He saw over the mist that in a
+hollow between two hills near the village of Pratzen, the Russian
+columns, their bayonets glittering, were moving continuously in one
+direction toward the valley and disappearing one after another into the
+mist. From information he had received the evening before, from the
+sound of wheels and footsteps heard by the outposts during the night, by
+the disorderly movement of the Russian columns, and from all
+indications, he saw clearly that the allies believed him to be far away
+in front of them, and that the columns moving near Pratzen constituted
+the center of the Russian army, and that that center was already
+sufficiently weakened to be successfully attacked. But still he did not
+begin the engagement.
+
+Today was a great day for him--the anniversary of his coronation. Before
+dawn he had slept for a few hours, and refreshed, vigorous, and in good
+spirits, he mounted his horse and rode out into the field in that happy
+mood in which everything seems possible and everything succeeds. He sat
+motionless, looking at the heights visible above the mist, and his cold
+face wore that special look of confident, self-complacent happiness that
+one sees on the face of a boy happily in love. The marshals stood behind
+him not venturing to distract his attention. He looked now at the
+Pratzen Heights, now at the sun floating up out of the mist.
+
+When the sun had entirely emerged from the fog, and fields and mist were
+aglow with dazzling light--as if he had only awaited this to begin the
+action--he drew the glove from his shapely white hand, made a sign with
+it to the marshals, and ordered the action to begin. The marshals,
+accompanied by adjutants, galloped off in different directions, and a
+few minutes later the chief forces of the French army moved rapidly
+toward those Pratzen Heights which were being more and more denuded by
+Russian troops moving down the valley to their left.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+At eight o'clock Kutuzov rode to Pratzen at the head of the fourth
+column, Miloradovich's, the one that was to take the place of
+Przebyszewski's and Langeron's columns which had already gone down into
+the valley. He greeted the men of the foremost regiment and gave them
+the order to march, thereby indicating that he intended to lead that
+column himself. When he had reached the village of Pratzen he halted.
+Prince Andrew was behind, among the immense number forming the
+commander-in-chief's suite. He was in a state of suppressed excitement
+and irritation, though controlledly calm as a man is at the approach of
+a long-awaited moment. He was firmly convinced that this was the day of
+his Toulon, or his bridge of Arcola. How it would come about he did not
+know, but he felt sure it would do so. The locality and the position of
+our troops were known to him as far as they could be known to anyone in
+our army. His own strategic plan, which obviously could not now be
+carried out, was forgotten. Now, entering into Weyrother's plan, Prince
+Andrew considered possible contingencies and formed new projects such as
+might call for his rapidity of perception and decision.
+
+To the left down below in the mist, the musketry fire of unseen forces
+could be heard. It was there Prince Andrew thought the fight would
+concentrate. "There we shall encounter difficulties, and there," thought
+he, "I shall be sent with a brigade or division, and there, standard in
+hand, I shall go forward and break whatever is in front of me."
+
+He could not look calmly at the standards of the passing battalions.
+Seeing them he kept thinking, "That may be the very standard with which
+I shall lead the army."
+
+In the morning all that was left of the night mist on the heights was a
+hoar frost now turning to dew, but in the valleys it still lay like a
+milk-white sea. Nothing was visible in the valley to the left into which
+our troops had descended and from whence came the sounds of firing.
+Above the heights was the dark clear sky, and to the right the vast orb
+of the sun. In front, far off on the farther shore of that sea of mist,
+some wooded hills were discernible, and it was there the enemy probably
+was, for something could be descried. On the right the Guards were
+entering the misty region with a sound of hoofs and wheels and now and
+then a gleam of bayonets; to the left beyond the village similar masses
+of cavalry came up and disappeared in the sea of mist. In front and
+behind moved infantry. The commander-in-chief was standing at the end of
+the village letting the troops pass by him. That morning Kutuzov seemed
+worn and irritable. The infantry passing before him came to a halt
+without any command being given, apparently obstructed by something in
+front.
+
+"Do order them to form into battalion columns and go round the village!"
+he said angrily to a general who had ridden up. "Don't you understand,
+your excellency, my dear sir, that you must not defile through narrow
+village streets when we are marching against the enemy?"
+
+"I intended to re-form them beyond the village, your excellency,"
+answered the general.
+
+Kutuzov laughed bitterly.
+
+"You'll make a fine thing of it, deploying in sight of the enemy! Very
+fine!"
+
+"The enemy is still far away, your excellency. According to the
+dispositions..."
+
+"The dispositions!" exclaimed Kutuzov bitterly. "Who told you that?...
+Kindly do as you are ordered."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"My dear fellow," Nesvitski whispered to Prince Andrew, "the old man is
+as surly as a dog."
+
+An Austrian officer in a white uniform with green plumes in his hat
+galloped up to Kutuzov and asked in the Emperor's name had the fourth
+column advanced into action.
+
+Kutuzov turned round without answering and his eye happened to fall upon
+Prince Andrew, who was beside him. Seeing him, Kutuzov's malevolent and
+caustic expression softened, as if admitting that what was being done
+was not his adjutant's fault, and still not answering the Austrian
+adjutant, he addressed Bolkonski.
+
+"Go, my dear fellow, and see whether the third division has passed the
+village. Tell it to stop and await my orders."
+
+Hardly had Prince Andrew started than he stopped him.
+
+"And ask whether sharpshooters have been posted," he added. "What are
+they doing? What are they doing?" he murmured to himself, still not
+replying to the Austrian.
+
+Prince Andrew galloped off to execute the order.
+
+Overtaking the battalions that continued to advance, he stopped the
+third division and convinced himself that there really were no
+sharpshooters in front of our columns. The colonel at the head of the
+regiment was much surprised at the commander-in-chief's order to throw
+out skirmishers. He had felt perfectly sure that there were other troops
+in front of him and that the enemy must be at least six miles away.
+There was really nothing to be seen in front except a barren descent
+hidden by dense mist. Having given orders in the commander-in-chief's
+name to rectify this omission, Prince Andrew galloped back. Kutuzov
+still in the same place, his stout body resting heavily in the saddle
+with the lassitude of age, sat yawning wearily with closed eyes. The
+troops were no longer moving, but stood with the butts of their muskets
+on the ground.
+
+"All right, all right!" he said to Prince Andrew, and turned to a
+general who, watch in hand, was saying it was time they started as all
+the left-flank columns had already descended.
+
+"Plenty of time, your excellency," muttered Kutuzov in the midst of a
+yawn. "Plenty of time," he repeated.
+
+Just then at a distance behind Kutuzov was heard the sound of regiments
+saluting, and this sound rapidly came nearer along the whole extended
+line of the advancing Russian columns. Evidently the person they were
+greeting was riding quickly. When the soldiers of the regiment in front
+of which Kutuzov was standing began to shout, he rode a little to one
+side and looked round with a frown. Along the road from Pratzen galloped
+what looked like a squadron of horsemen in various uniforms. Two of them
+rode side by side in front, at full gallop. One in a black uniform with
+white plumes in his hat rode a bobtailed chestnut horse, the other who
+was in a white uniform rode a black one. These were the two Emperors
+followed by their suites. Kutuzov, affecting the manners of an old
+soldier at the front, gave the command "Attention!" and rode up to the
+Emperors with a salute. His whole appearance and manner were suddenly
+transformed. He put on the air of a subordinate who obeys without
+reasoning. With an affectation of respect which evidently struck
+Alexander unpleasantly, he rode up and saluted.
+
+This unpleasant impression merely flitted over the young and happy face
+of the Emperor like a cloud of haze across a clear sky and vanished.
+After his illness he looked rather thinner that day than on the field of
+Olmutz where Bolkonski had seen him for the first time abroad, but there
+was still the same bewitching combination of majesty and mildness in his
+fine gray eyes, and on his delicate lips the same capacity for varying
+expression and the same prevalent appearance of goodhearted innocent
+youth.
+
+At the Olmutz review he had seemed more majestic; here he seemed
+brighter and more energetic. He was slightly flushed after galloping two
+miles, and reining in his horse he sighed restfully and looked round at
+the faces of his suite, young and animated as his own. Czartoryski,
+Novosiltsev, Prince Volkonsky, Strogonov, and the others, all richly
+dressed gay young men on splendid, well-groomed, fresh, only slightly
+heated horses, exchanging remarks and smiling, had stopped behind the
+Emperor. The Emperor Francis, a rosy, long faced young man, sat very
+erect on his handsome black horse, looking about him in a leisurely and
+preoccupied manner. He beckoned to one of his white adjutants and asked
+some question--"Most likely he is asking at what o'clock they started,"
+thought Prince Andrew, watching his old acquaintance with a smile he
+could not repress as he recalled his reception at Brunn. In the
+Emperors' suite were the picked young orderly officers of the Guard and
+line regiments, Russian and Austrian. Among them were grooms leading the
+Tsar's beautiful relay horses covered with embroidered cloths.
+
+As when a window is opened a whiff of fresh air from the fields enters a
+stuffy room, so a whiff of youthfulness, energy, and confidence of
+success reached Kutuzov's cheerless staff with the galloping advent of
+all these brilliant young men.
+
+"Why aren't you beginning, Michael Ilarionovich?" said the Emperor
+Alexander hurriedly to Kutuzov, glancing courteously at the same time at
+the Emperor Francis.
+
+"I am waiting, Your Majesty," answered Kutuzov, bending forward
+respectfully.
+
+The Emperor, frowning slightly, bent his ear forward as if he had not
+quite heard.
+
+"Waiting, Your Majesty," repeated Kutuzov. (Prince Andrew noted that
+Kutuzov's upper lip twitched unnaturally as he said the word "waiting.")
+"Not all the columns have formed up yet, Your Majesty."
+
+The Tsar heard but obviously did not like the reply; he shrugged his
+rather round shoulders and glanced at Novosiltsev who was near him, as
+if complaining of Kutuzov.
+
+"You know, Michael Ilarionovich, we are not on the Empress' Field where
+a parade does not begin till all the troops are assembled," said the
+Tsar with another glance at the Emperor Francis, as if inviting him if
+not to join in at least to listen to what he was saying. But the Emperor
+Francis continued to look about him and did not listen.
+
+"That is just why I do not begin, sire," said Kutuzov in a resounding
+voice, apparently to preclude the possibility of not being heard, and
+again something in his face twitched--"That is just why I do not begin,
+sire, because we are not on parade and not on the Empress' Field," said
+clearly and distinctly.
+
+In the Emperor's suite all exchanged rapid looks that expressed
+dissatisfaction and reproach. "Old though he may be, he should not, he
+certainly should not, speak like that," their glances seemed to say.
+
+The Tsar looked intently and observantly into Kutuzov's eye waiting to
+hear whether he would say anything more. But Kutuzov, with respectfully
+bowed head, seemed also to be waiting. The silence lasted for about a
+minute.
+
+"However, if you command it, Your Majesty," said Kutuzov, lifting his
+head and again assuming his former tone of a dull, unreasoning, but
+submissive general.
+
+He touched his horse and having called Miloradovich, the commander of
+the column, gave him the order to advance.
+
+The troops again began to move, and two battalions of the Novgorod and
+one of the Apsheron regiment went forward past the Emperor.
+
+As this Apsheron battalion marched by, the red-faced Miloradovich,
+without his greatcoat, with his Orders on his breast and an enormous
+tuft of plumes in his cocked hat worn on one side with its corners front
+and back, galloped strenuously forward, and with a dashing salute reined
+in his horse before the Emperor.
+
+"God be with you, general!" said the Emperor.
+
+"Ma foi, sire, nous ferons ce qui sera dans notre possibilite, sire," *
+he answered gaily, raising nevertheless ironic smiles among the
+gentlemen of the Tsar's suite by his poor French.
+
+
+* "Indeed, Sire, we shall do everything it is possible to do, Sire."
+
+Miloradovich wheeled his horse sharply and stationed himself a little
+behind the Emperor. The Apsheron men, excited by the Tsar's presence,
+passed in step before the Emperors and their suites at a bold, brisk
+pace.
+
+"Lads!" shouted Miloradovich in a loud, self-confident, and cheery
+voice, obviously so elated by the sound of firing, by the prospect of
+battle, and by the sight of the gallant Apsherons, his comrades in
+Suvorov's time, now passing so gallantly before the Emperors, that he
+forgot the sovereigns' presence. "Lads, it's not the first village
+you've had to take," cried he.
+
+"Glad to do our best!" shouted the soldiers.
+
+The Emperor's horse started at the sudden cry. This horse that had
+carried the sovereign at reviews in Russia bore him also here on the
+field of Austerlitz, enduring the heedless blows of his left foot and
+pricking its ears at the sound of shots just as it had done on the
+Empress' Field, not understanding the significance of the firing, nor of
+the nearness of the Emperor Francis' black cob, nor of all that was
+being said, thought, and felt that day by its rider.
+
+The Emperor turned with a smile to one of his followers and made a
+remark to him, pointing to the gallant Apsherons.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+Kutuzov accompanied by his adjutants rode at a walking pace behind the
+carabineers.
+
+When he had gone less than half a mile in the rear of the column he
+stopped at a solitary, deserted house that had probably once been an
+inn, where two roads parted. Both of them led downhill and troops were
+marching along both.
+
+The fog had begun to clear and enemy troops were already dimly visible
+about a mile and a half off on the opposite heights. Down below, on the
+left, the firing became more distinct. Kutuzov had stopped and was
+speaking to an Austrian general. Prince Andrew, who was a little behind
+looking at them, turned to an adjutant to ask him for a field glass.
+
+"Look, look!" said this adjutant, looking not at the troops in the
+distance, but down the hill before him. "It's the French!"
+
+The two generals and the adjutant took hold of the field glass, trying
+to snatch it from one another. The expression on all their faces
+suddenly changed to one of horror. The French were supposed to be a mile
+and a half away, but had suddenly and unexpectedly appeared just in
+front of us.
+
+"It's the enemy?... No!... Yes, see it is!... for certain.... But how is
+that?" said different voices.
+
+With the naked eye Prince Andrew saw below them to the right, not more
+than five hundred paces from where Kutuzov was standing, a dense French
+column coming up to meet the Apsherons.
+
+"Here it is! The decisive moment has arrived. My turn has come," thought
+Prince Andrew, and striking his horse he rode up to Kutuzov.
+
+"The Apsherons must be stopped, your excellency," cried he. But at that
+very instant a cloud of smoke spread all round, firing was heard quite
+close at hand, and a voice of naive terror barely two steps from Prince
+Andrew shouted, "Brothers! All's lost!" And at this as if at a command,
+everyone began to run.
+
+Confused and ever-increasing crowds were running back to where five
+minutes before the troops had passed the Emperors. Not only would it
+have been difficult to stop that crowd, it was even impossible not to be
+carried back with it oneself. Bolkonski only tried not to lose touch
+with it, and looked around bewildered and unable to grasp what was
+happening in front of him. Nesvitski with an angry face, red and unlike
+himself, was shouting to Kutuzov that if he did not ride away at once he
+would certainly be taken prisoner. Kutuzov remained in the same place
+and without answering drew out a handkerchief. Blood was flowing from
+his cheek. Prince Andrew forced his way to him.
+
+"You are wounded?" he asked, hardly able to master the trembling of his
+lower jaw.
+
+"The wound is not here, it is there!" said Kutuzov, pressing the
+handkerchief to his wounded cheek and pointing to the fleeing soldiers.
+"Stop them!" he shouted, and at the same moment, probably realizing that
+it was impossible to stop them, spurred his horse and rode to the right.
+
+A fresh wave of the flying mob caught him and bore him back with it.
+
+The troops were running in such a dense mass that once surrounded by
+them it was difficult to get out again. One was shouting, "Get on! Why
+are you hindering us?" Another in the same place turned round and fired
+in the air; a third was striking the horse Kutuzov himself rode. Having
+by a great effort got away to the left from that flood of men, Kutuzov,
+with his suite diminished by more than half, rode toward a sound of
+artillery fire near by. Having forced his way out of the crowd of
+fugitives, Prince Andrew, trying to keep near Kutuzov, saw on the slope
+of the hill amid the smoke a Russian battery that was still firing and
+Frenchmen running toward it. Higher up stood some Russian infantry,
+neither moving forward to protect the battery nor backward with the
+fleeing crowd. A mounted general separated himself from the infantry and
+approached Kutuzov. Of Kutuzov's suite only four remained. They were all
+pale and exchanged looks in silence.
+
+"Stop those wretches!" gasped Kutuzov to the regimental commander,
+pointing to the flying soldiers; but at that instant, as if to punish
+him for those words, bullets flew hissing across the regiment and across
+Kutuzov's suite like a flock of little birds.
+
+The French had attacked the battery and, seeing Kutuzov, were firing at
+him. After this volley the regimental commander clutched at his leg;
+several soldiers fell, and a second lieutenant who was holding the flag
+let it fall from his hands. It swayed and fell, but caught on the
+muskets of the nearest soldiers. The soldiers started firing without
+orders.
+
+"Oh! Oh! Oh!" groaned Kutuzov despairingly and looked around....
+"Bolkonski!" he whispered, his voice trembling from a consciousness of
+the feebleness of age, "Bolkonski!" he whispered, pointing to the
+disordered battalion and at the enemy, "what's that?"
+
+But before he had finished speaking, Prince Andrew, feeling tears of
+shame and anger choking him, had already leapt from his horse and run to
+the standard.
+
+"Forward, lads!" he shouted in a voice piercing as a child's.
+
+"Here it is!" thought he, seizing the staff of the standard and hearing
+with pleasure the whistle of bullets evidently aimed at him. Several
+soldiers fell.
+
+"Hurrah!" shouted Prince Andrew, and, scarcely able to hold up the heavy
+standard, he ran forward with full confidence that the whole battalion
+would follow him.
+
+And really he only ran a few steps alone. One soldier moved and then
+another and soon the whole battalion ran forward shouting "Hurrah!" and
+overtook him. A sergeant of the battalion ran up and took the flag that
+was swaying from its weight in Prince Andrew's hands, but he was
+immediately killed. Prince Andrew again seized the standard and,
+dragging it by the staff, ran on with the battalion. In front he saw our
+artillerymen, some of whom were fighting, while others, having abandoned
+their guns, were running toward him. He also saw French infantry
+soldiers who were seizing the artillery horses and turning the guns
+round. Prince Andrew and the battalion were already within twenty paces
+of the cannon. He heard the whistle of bullets above him unceasingly and
+to right and left of him soldiers continually groaned and dropped. But
+he did not look at them: he looked only at what was going on in front of
+him--at the battery. He now saw clearly the figure of a red-haired
+gunner with his shako knocked awry, pulling one end of a mop while a
+French soldier tugged at the other. He could distinctly see the
+distraught yet angry expression on the faces of these two men, who
+evidently did not realize what they were doing.
+
+"What are they about?" thought Prince Andrew as he gazed at them. "Why
+doesn't the red-haired gunner run away as he is unarmed? Why doesn't the
+Frenchman stab him? He will not get away before the Frenchman remembers
+his bayonet and stabs him...."
+
+And really another French soldier, trailing his musket, ran up to the
+struggling men, and the fate of the red-haired gunner, who had
+triumphantly secured the mop and still did not realize what awaited him,
+was about to be decided. But Prince Andrew did not see how it ended. It
+seemed to him as though one of the soldiers near him hit him on the head
+with the full swing of a bludgeon. It hurt a little, but the worst of it
+was that the pain distracted him and prevented his seeing what he had
+been looking at.
+
+"What's this? Am I falling? My legs are giving way," thought he, and
+fell on his back. He opened his eyes, hoping to see how the struggle of
+the Frenchmen with the gunners ended, whether the red-haired gunner had
+been killed or not and whether the cannon had been captured or saved.
+But he saw nothing. Above him there was now nothing but the sky--the
+lofty sky, not clear yet still immeasurably lofty, with gray clouds
+gliding slowly across it. "How quiet, peaceful, and solemn; not at all
+as I ran," thought Prince Andrew--"not as we ran, shouting and fighting,
+not at all as the gunner and the Frenchman with frightened and angry
+faces struggled for the mop: how differently do those clouds glide
+across that lofty infinite sky! How was it I did not see that lofty sky
+before? And how happy I am to have found it at last! Yes! All is vanity,
+all falsehood, except that infinite sky. There is nothing, nothing, but
+that. But even it does not exist, there is nothing but quiet and peace.
+Thank God!..."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+On our right flank commanded by Bagration, at nine o'clock the battle
+had not yet begun. Not wishing to agree to Dolgorukov's demand to
+commence the action, and wishing to avert responsibility from himself,
+Prince Bagration proposed to Dolgorukov to send to inquire of the
+commander-in-chief. Bagration knew that as the distance between the two
+flanks was more than six miles, even if the messenger were not killed
+(which he very likely would be), and found the commander-in-chief (which
+would be very difficult), he would not be able to get back before
+evening.
+
+Bagration cast his large, expressionless, sleepy eyes round his suite,
+and the boyish face Rostov, breathless with excitement and hope, was the
+first to catch his eye. He sent him.
+
+"And if I should meet His Majesty before I meet the commander-in-chief,
+your excellency?" said Rostov, with his hand to his cap.
+
+"You can give the message to His Majesty," said Dolgorukov, hurriedly
+interrupting Bagration.
+
+On being relieved from picket duty Rostov had managed to get a few
+hours' sleep before morning and felt cheerful, bold, and resolute, with
+elasticity of movement, faith in his good fortune, and generally in that
+state of mind which makes everything seem possible, pleasant, and easy.
+
+All his wishes were being fulfilled that morning: there was to be a
+general engagement in which he was taking part, more than that, he was
+orderly to the bravest general, and still more, he was going with a
+message to Kutuzov, perhaps even to the sovereign himself. The morning
+was bright, he had a good horse under him, and his heart was full of joy
+and happiness. On receiving the order he gave his horse the rein and
+galloped along the line. At first he rode along the line of Bagration's
+troops, which had not yet advanced into action but were standing
+motionless; then he came to the region occupied by Uvarov's cavalry and
+here he noticed a stir and signs of preparation for battle; having
+passed Uvarov's cavalry he clearly heard the sound of cannon and
+musketry ahead of him. The firing grew louder and louder.
+
+In the fresh morning air were now heard, not two or three musket shots
+at irregular intervals as before, followed by one or two cannon shots,
+but a roll of volleys of musketry from the slopes of the hill before
+Pratzen, interrupted by such frequent reports of cannon that sometimes
+several of them were not separated from one another but merged into a
+general roar.
+
+He could see puffs of musketry smoke that seemed to chase one another
+down the hillsides, and clouds of cannon smoke rolling, spreading, and
+mingling with one another. He could also, by the gleam of bayonets
+visible through the smoke, make out moving masses of infantry and narrow
+lines of artillery with green caissons.
+
+Rostov stopped his horse for a moment on a hillock to see what was going
+on, but strain his attention as he would he could not understand or make
+out anything of what was happening: there in the smoke men of some sort
+were moving about, in front and behind moved lines of troops; but why,
+whither, and who they were, it was impossible to make out. These sights
+and sounds had no depressing or intimidating effect on him; on the
+contrary, they stimulated his energy and determination.
+
+"Go on! Go on! Give it them!" he mentally exclaimed at these sounds, and
+again proceeded to gallop along the line, penetrating farther and
+farther into the region where the army was already in action.
+
+"How it will be there I don't know, but all will be well!" thought
+Rostov.
+
+After passing some Austrian troops he noticed that the next part of the
+line (the Guards) was already in action.
+
+"So much the better! I shall see it close," he thought.
+
+He was riding almost along the front line. A handful of men came
+galloping toward him. They were our uhlans who with disordered ranks
+were returning from the attack. Rostov got out of their way,
+involuntarily noticed that one of them was bleeding, and galloped on.
+
+"That is no business of mine," he thought. He had not ridden many
+hundred yards after that before he saw to his left, across the whole
+width of the field, an enormous mass of cavalry in brilliant white
+uniforms, mounted on black horses, trotting straight toward him and
+across his path. Rostov put his horse to full gallop to get out of the
+way of these men, and he would have got clear had they continued at the
+same speed, but they kept increasing their pace, so that some of the
+horses were already galloping. Rostov heard the thud of their hoofs and
+the jingle of their weapons and saw their horses, their figures, and
+even their faces, more and more distinctly. They were our Horse Guards,
+advancing to attack the French cavalry that was coming to meet them.
+
+The Horse Guards were galloping, but still holding in their horses.
+Rostov could already see their faces and heard the command: "Charge!"
+shouted by an officer who was urging his thoroughbred to full speed.
+Rostov, fearing to be crushed or swept into the attack on the French,
+galloped along the front as hard as his horse could go, but still was
+not in time to avoid them.
+
+The last of the Horse Guards, a huge pockmarked fellow, frowned angrily
+on seeing Rostov before him, with whom he would inevitably collide. This
+Guardsman would certainly have bowled Rostov and his Bedouin over
+(Rostov felt himself quite tiny and weak compared to these gigantic men
+and horses) had it not occurred to Rostov to flourish his whip before
+the eyes of the Guardsman's horse. The heavy black horse, sixteen hands
+high, shied, throwing back its ears; but the pockmarked Guardsman drove
+his huge spurs in violently, and the horse, flourishing its tail and
+extending its neck, galloped on yet faster. Hardly had the Horse Guards
+passed Rostov before he heard them shout, "Hurrah!" and looking back saw
+that their foremost ranks were mixed up with some foreign cavalry with
+red epaulets, probably French. He could see nothing more, for
+immediately afterwards cannon began firing from somewhere and smoke
+enveloped everything.
+
+At that moment, as the Horse Guards, having passed him, disappeared in
+the smoke, Rostov hesitated whether to gallop after them or to go where
+he was sent. This was the brilliant charge of the Horse Guards that
+amazed the French themselves. Rostov was horrified to hear later that of
+all that mass of huge and handsome men, of all those brilliant, rich
+youths, officers and cadets, who had galloped past him on their
+thousand-ruble horses, only eighteen were left after the charge.
+
+"Why should I envy them? My chance is not lost, and maybe I shall see
+the Emperor immediately!" thought Rostov and galloped on.
+
+When he came level with the Foot Guards he noticed that about them and
+around them cannon balls were flying, of which he was aware not so much
+because he heard their sound as because he saw uneasiness on the
+soldiers' faces and unnatural warlike solemnity on those of the
+officers.
+
+Passing behind one of the lines of a regiment of Foot Guards he heard a
+voice calling him by name.
+
+"Rostov!"
+
+"What?" he answered, not recognizing Boris.
+
+"I say, we've been in the front line! Our regiment attacked!" said Boris
+with the happy smile seen on the faces of young men who have been under
+fire for the first time.
+
+Rostov stopped.
+
+"Have you?" he said. "Well, how did it go?"
+
+"We drove them back!" said Boris with animation, growing talkative. "Can
+you imagine it?" and he began describing how the Guards, having taken up
+their position and seeing troops before them, thought they were
+Austrians, and all at once discovered from the cannon balls discharged
+by those troops that they were themselves in the front line and had
+unexpectedly to go into action. Rostov without hearing Boris to the end
+spurred his horse.
+
+"Where are you off to?" asked Boris.
+
+"With a message to His Majesty."
+
+"There he is!" said Boris, thinking Rostov had said "His Highness," and
+pointing to the Grand Duke who with his high shoulders and frowning
+brows stood a hundred paces away from them in his helmet and Horse
+Guards' jacket, shouting something to a pale, white uniformed Austrian
+officer.
+
+"But that's the Grand Duke, and I want the commander-in-chief or the
+Emperor," said Rostov, and was about to spur his horse.
+
+"Count! Count!" shouted Berg who ran up from the other side as eager as
+Boris. "Count! I am wounded in my right hand" (and he showed his
+bleeding hand with a handkerchief tied round it) "and I remained at the
+front. I held my sword in my left hand, Count. All our family--the von
+Bergs--have been knights!"
+
+He said something more, but Rostov did not wait to hear it and rode
+away.
+
+Having passed the Guards and traversed an empty space, Rostov, to avoid
+again getting in front of the first line as he had done when the Horse
+Guards charged, followed the line of reserves, going far round the place
+where the hottest musket fire and cannonade were heard. Suddenly he
+heard musket fire quite close in front of him and behind our troops,
+where he could never have expected the enemy to be.
+
+"What can it be?" he thought. "The enemy in the rear of our army?
+Impossible!" And suddenly he was seized by a panic of fear for himself
+and for the issue of the whole battle. "But be that what it may," he
+reflected, "there is no riding round it now. I must look for the
+commander in chief here, and if all is lost it is for me to perish with
+the rest."
+
+The foreboding of evil that had suddenly come over Rostov was more and
+more confirmed the farther he rode into the region behind the village of
+Pratzen, which was full of troops of all kinds.
+
+"What does it mean? What is it? Whom are they firing at? Who is firing?"
+Rostov kept asking as he came up to Russian and Austrian soldiers
+running in confused crowds across his path.
+
+"The devil knows! They've killed everybody! It's all up now!" he was
+told in Russian, German, and Czech by the crowd of fugitives who
+understood what was happening as little as he did.
+
+"Kill the Germans!" shouted one.
+
+"May the devil take them--the traitors!"
+
+"Zum Henker diese Russen!" * muttered a German.
+
+
+* "Hang these Russians!"
+
+Several wounded men passed along the road, and words of abuse, screams,
+and groans mingled in a general hubbub, then the firing died down.
+Rostov learned later that Russian and Austrian soldiers had been firing
+at one another.
+
+"My God! What does it all mean?" thought he. "And here, where at any
+moment the Emperor may see them.... But no, these must be only a handful
+of scoundrels. It will soon be over, it can't be that, it can't be! Only
+to get past them quicker, quicker!"
+
+The idea of defeat and flight could not enter Rostov's head. Though he
+saw French cannon and French troops on the Pratzen Heights just where he
+had been ordered to look for the commander-in-chief, he could not, did
+not wish to, believe that.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+Rostov had been ordered to look for Kutuzov and the Emperor near the
+village of Pratzen. But neither they nor a single commanding officer
+were there, only disorganized crowds of troops of various kinds. He
+urged on his already weary horse to get quickly past these crowds, but
+the farther he went the more disorganized they were. The highroad on
+which he had come out was thronged with caleches, carriages of all
+sorts, and Russian and Austrian soldiers of all arms, some wounded and
+some not. This whole mass droned and jostled in confusion under the
+dismal influence of cannon balls flying from the French batteries
+stationed on the Pratzen Heights.
+
+"Where is the Emperor? Where is Kutuzov?" Rostov kept asking everyone he
+could stop, but got no answer from anyone.
+
+At last seizing a soldier by his collar he forced him to answer.
+
+"Eh, brother! They've all bolted long ago!" said the soldier, laughing
+for some reason and shaking himself free.
+
+Having left that soldier who was evidently drunk, Rostov stopped the
+horse of a batman or groom of some important personage and began to
+question him. The man announced that the Tsar had been driven in a
+carriage at full speed about an hour before along that very road and
+that he was dangerously wounded.
+
+"It can't be!" said Rostov. "It must have been someone else."
+
+"I saw him myself," replied the man with a self-confident smile of
+derision. "I ought to know the Emperor by now, after the times I've seen
+him in Petersburg. I saw him just as I see you.... There he sat in the
+carriage as pale as anything. How they made the four black horses fly!
+Gracious me, they did rattle past! It's time I knew the Imperial horses
+and Ilya Ivanych. I don't think Ilya drives anyone except the Tsar!"
+
+Rostov let go of the horse and was about to ride on, when a wounded
+officer passing by addressed him:
+
+"Who is it you want?" he asked. "The commander-in-chief? He was killed
+by a cannon ball--struck in the breast before our regiment."
+
+"Not killed--wounded!" another officer corrected him.
+
+"Who? Kutuzov?" asked Rostov.
+
+"Not Kutuzov, but what's his name--well, never mind... there are not
+many left alive. Go that way, to that village, all the commanders are
+there," said the officer, pointing to the village of Hosjeradek, and he
+walked on.
+
+Rostov rode on at a footpace not knowing why or to whom he was now
+going. The Emperor was wounded, the battle lost. It was impossible to
+doubt it now. Rostov rode in the direction pointed out to him, in which
+he saw turrets and a church. What need to hurry? What was he now to say
+to the Tsar or to Kutuzov, even if they were alive and unwounded?
+
+"Take this road, your honor, that way you will be killed at once!" a
+soldier shouted to him. "They'd kill you there!"
+
+"Oh, what are you talking about?" said another. "Where is he to go? That
+way is nearer."
+
+Rostov considered, and then went in the direction where they said he
+would be killed.
+
+"It's all the same now. If the Emperor is wounded, am I to try to save
+myself?" he thought. He rode on to the region where the greatest number
+of men had perished in fleeing from Pratzen. The French had not yet
+occupied that region, and the Russians--the uninjured and slightly
+wounded--had left it long ago. All about the field, like heaps of manure
+on well-kept plowland, lay from ten to fifteen dead and wounded to each
+couple of acres. The wounded crept together in twos and threes and one
+could hear their distressing screams and groans, sometimes feigned--or
+so it seemed to Rostov. He put his horse to a trot to avoid seeing all
+these suffering men, and he felt afraid--afraid not for his life, but
+for the courage he needed and which he knew would not stand the sight of
+these unfortunates.
+
+The French, who had ceased firing at this field strewn with dead and
+wounded where there was no one left to fire at, on seeing an adjutant
+riding over it trained a gun on him and fired several shots. The
+sensation of those terrible whistling sounds and of the corpses around
+him merged in Rostov's mind into a single feeling of terror and pity for
+himself. He remembered his mother's last letter. "What would she feel,"
+thought he, "if she saw me here now on this field with the cannon aimed
+at me?"
+
+In the village of Hosjeradek there were Russian troops retiring from the
+field of battle, who though still in some confusion were less
+disordered. The French cannon did not reach there and the musketry fire
+sounded far away. Here everyone clearly saw and said that the battle was
+lost. No one whom Rostov asked could tell him where the Emperor or
+Kutuzov was. Some said the report that the Emperor was wounded was
+correct, others that it was not, and explained the false rumor that had
+spread by the fact that the Emperor's carriage had really galloped from
+the field of battle with the pale and terrified Ober-Hofmarschal Count
+Tolstoy, who had ridden out to the battlefield with others in the
+Emperor's suite. One officer told Rostov that he had seen someone from
+headquarters behind the village to the left, and thither Rostov rode,
+not hoping to find anyone but merely to ease his conscience. When he had
+ridden about two miles and had passed the last of the Russian troops, he
+saw, near a kitchen garden with a ditch round it, two men on horseback
+facing the ditch. One with a white plume in his hat seemed familiar to
+Rostov; the other on a beautiful chestnut horse (which Rostov fancied he
+had seen before) rode up to the ditch, struck his horse with his spurs,
+and giving it the rein leaped lightly over. Only a little earth crumbled
+from the bank under the horse's hind hoofs. Turning the horse sharply,
+he again jumped the ditch, and deferentially addressed the horseman with
+the white plumes, evidently suggesting that he should do the same. The
+rider, whose figure seemed familiar to Rostov and involuntarily riveted
+his attention, made a gesture of refusal with his head and hand and by
+that gesture Rostov instantly recognized his lamented and adored
+monarch.
+
+"But it can't be he, alone in the midst of this empty field!" thought
+Rostov. At that moment Alexander turned his head and Rostov saw the
+beloved features that were so deeply engraved on his memory. The Emperor
+was pale, his cheeks sunken and his eyes hollow, but the charm, the
+mildness of his features, was all the greater. Rostov was happy in the
+assurance that the rumors about the Emperor being wounded were false. He
+was happy to be seeing him. He knew that he might and even ought to go
+straight to him and give the message Dolgorukov had ordered him to
+deliver.
+
+But as a youth in love trembles, is unnerved, and dares not utter the
+thoughts he has dreamed of for nights, but looks around for help or a
+chance of delay and flight when the longed-for moment comes and he is
+alone with her, so Rostov, now that he had attained what he had longed
+for more than anything else in the world, did not know how to approach
+the Emperor, and a thousand reasons occurred to him why it would be
+inconvenient, unseemly, and impossible to do so.
+
+"What! It is as if I were glad of a chance to take advantage of his
+being alone and despondent! A strange face may seem unpleasant or
+painful to him at this moment of sorrow; besides, what can I say to him
+now, when my heart fails me and my mouth feels dry at the mere sight of
+him?" Not one of the innumerable speeches addressed to the Emperor that
+he had composed in his imagination could he now recall. Those speeches
+were intended for quite other conditions, they were for the most part to
+be spoken at a moment of victory and triumph, generally when he was
+dying of wounds and the sovereign had thanked him for heroic deeds, and
+while dying he expressed the love his actions had proved.
+
+"Besides how can I ask the Emperor for his instructions for the right
+flank now that it is nearly four o'clock and the battle is lost? No,
+certainly I must not approach him, I must not intrude on his
+reflections. Better die a thousand times than risk receiving an unkind
+look or bad opinion from him," Rostov decided; and sorrowfully and with
+a heart full despair he rode away, continually looking back at the Tsar,
+who still remained in the same attitude of indecision.
+
+While Rostov was thus arguing with himself and riding sadly away,
+Captain von Toll chanced to ride to the same spot, and seeing the
+Emperor at once rode up to him, offered his services, and assisted him
+to cross the ditch on foot. The Emperor, wishing to rest and feeling
+unwell, sat down under an apple tree and von Toll remained beside him.
+Rostov from a distance saw with envy and remorse how von Toll spoke long
+and warmly to the Emperor and how the Emperor, evidently weeping,
+covered his eyes with his hand and pressed von Toll's hand.
+
+"And I might have been in his place!" thought Rostov, and hardly
+restraining his tears of pity for the Emperor, he rode on in utter
+despair, not knowing where to or why he was now riding.
+
+His despair was all the greater from feeling that his own weakness was
+the cause of his grief.
+
+He might... not only might but should, have gone up to the sovereign. It
+was a unique chance to show his devotion to the Emperor and he had not
+made use of it.... "What have I done?" thought he. And he turned round
+and galloped back to the place where he had seen the Emperor, but there
+was no one beyond the ditch now. Only some carts and carriages were
+passing by. From one of the drivers he learned that Kutuzov's staff were
+not far off, in the village the vehicles were going to. Rostov followed
+them. In front of him walked Kutuzov's groom leading horses in
+horsecloths. Then came a cart, and behind that walked an old, bandy-
+legged domestic serf in a peaked cap and sheepskin coat.
+
+"Tit! I say, Tit!" said the groom.
+
+"What?" answered the old man absent-mindedly.
+
+"Go, Tit! Thresh a bit!"
+
+"Oh, you fool!" said the old man, spitting angrily. Some time passed in
+silence, and then the same joke was repeated.
+
+Before five in the evening the battle had been lost at all points. More
+than a hundred cannon were already in the hands of the French.
+
+Przebyszewski and his corps had laid down their arms. Other columns
+after losing half their men were retreating in disorderly confused
+masses.
+
+The remains of Langeron's and Dokhturov's mingled forces were crowding
+around the dams and banks of the ponds near the village of Augesd.
+
+After five o'clock it was only at the Augesd Dam that a hot cannonade
+(delivered by the French alone) was still to be heard from numerous
+batteries ranged on the slopes of the Pratzen Heights, directed at our
+retreating forces.
+
+In the rearguard, Dokhturov and others rallying some battalions kept up
+a musketry fire at the French cavalry that was pursuing our troops. It
+was growing dusk. On the narrow Augesd Dam where for so many years the
+old miller had been accustomed to sit in his tasseled cap peacefully
+angling, while his grandson, with shirt sleeves rolled up, handled the
+floundering silvery fish in the watering can, on that dam over which for
+so many years Moravians in shaggy caps and blue jackets had peacefully
+driven their two-horse carts loaded with wheat and had returned dusty
+with flour whitening their carts--on that narrow dam amid the wagons and
+the cannon, under the horses' hoofs and between the wagon wheels, men
+disfigured by fear of death now crowded together, crushing one another,
+dying, stepping over the dying and killing one another, only to move on
+a few steps and be killed themselves in the same way.
+
+Every ten seconds a cannon ball flew compressing the air around, or a
+shell burst in the midst of that dense throng, killing some and
+splashing with blood those near them.
+
+Dolokhov--now an officer--wounded in the arm, and on foot, with the
+regimental commander on horseback and some ten men of his company,
+represented all that was left of that whole regiment. Impelled by the
+crowd, they had got wedged in at the approach to the dam and, jammed in
+on all sides, had stopped because a horse in front had fallen under a
+cannon and the crowd were dragging it out. A cannon ball killed someone
+behind them, another fell in front and splashed Dolokhov with blood. The
+crowd, pushing forward desperately, squeezed together, moved a few
+steps, and again stopped.
+
+"Move on a hundred yards and we are certainly saved, remain here another
+two minutes and it is certain death," thought each one.
+
+Dolokhov who was in the midst of the crowd forced his way to the edge of
+the dam, throwing two soldiers off their feet, and ran onto the slippery
+ice that covered the millpool.
+
+"Turn this way!" he shouted, jumping over the ice which creaked under
+him; "turn this way!" he shouted to those with the gun. "It bears!..."
+
+The ice bore him but it swayed and creaked, and it was plain that it
+would give way not only under a cannon or a crowd, but very soon even
+under his weight alone. The men looked at him and pressed to the bank,
+hesitating to step onto the ice. The general on horseback at the
+entrance to the dam raised his hand and opened his mouth to address
+Dolokhov. Suddenly a cannon ball hissed so low above the crowd that
+everyone ducked. It flopped into something moist, and the general fell
+from his horse in a pool of blood. Nobody gave him a look or thought of
+raising him.
+
+"Get onto the ice, over the ice! Go on! Turn! Don't you hear? Go on!"
+innumerable voices suddenly shouted after the ball had struck the
+general, the men themselves not knowing what, or why, they were
+shouting.
+
+One of the hindmost guns that was going onto the dam turned off onto the
+ice. Crowds of soldiers from the dam began running onto the frozen pond.
+The ice gave way under one of the foremost soldiers, and one leg slipped
+into the water. He tried to right himself but fell in up to his waist.
+The nearest soldiers shrank back, the gun driver stopped his horse, but
+from behind still came the shouts: "Onto the ice, why do you stop? Go
+on! Go on!" And cries of horror were heard in the crowd. The soldiers
+near the gun waved their arms and beat the horses to make them turn and
+move on. The horses moved off the bank. The ice, that had held under
+those on foot, collapsed in a great mass, and some forty men who were on
+it dashed, some forward and some back, drowning one another.
+
+Still the cannon balls continued regularly to whistle and flop onto the
+ice and into the water and oftenest of all among the crowd that covered
+the dam, the pond, and the bank.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+On the Pratzen Heights, where he had fallen with the flagstaff in his
+hand, lay Prince Andrew Bolkonski bleeding profusely and unconsciously
+uttering a gentle, piteous, and childlike moan.
+
+Toward evening he ceased moaning and became quite still. He did not know
+how long his unconsciousness lasted. Suddenly he again felt that he was
+alive and suffering from a burning, lacerating pain in his head.
+
+"Where is it, that lofty sky that I did not know till now, but saw
+today?" was his first thought. "And I did not know this suffering
+either," he thought. "Yes, I did not know anything, anything at all till
+now. But where am I?"
+
+He listened and heard the sound of approaching horses, and voices
+speaking French. He opened his eyes. Above him again was the same lofty
+sky with clouds that had risen and were floating still higher, and
+between them gleamed blue infinity. He did not turn his head and did not
+see those who, judging by the sound of hoofs and voices, had ridden up
+and stopped near him.
+
+It was Napoleon accompanied by two aides-de-camp. Bonaparte riding over
+the battlefield had given final orders to strengthen the batteries
+firing at the Augesd Dam and was looking at the killed and wounded left
+on the field.
+
+"Fine men!" remarked Napoleon, looking at a dead Russian grenadier, who,
+with his face buried in the ground and a blackened nape, lay on his
+stomach with an already stiffened arm flung wide.
+
+"The ammunition for the guns in position is exhausted, Your Majesty,"
+said an adjutant who had come from the batteries that were firing at
+Augesd.
+
+"Have some brought from the reserve," said Napoleon, and having gone on
+a few steps he stopped before Prince Andrew, who lay on his back with
+the flagstaff that had been dropped beside him. (The flag had already
+been taken by the French as a trophy.)
+
+"That's a fine death!" said Napoleon as he gazed at Bolkonski.
+
+Prince Andrew understood that this was said of him and that it was
+Napoleon who said it. He heard the speaker addressed as Sire. But he
+heard the words as he might have heard the buzzing of a fly. Not only
+did they not interest him, but he took no notice of them and at once
+forgot them. His head was burning, he felt himself bleeding to death,
+and he saw above him the remote, lofty, and everlasting sky. He knew it
+was Napoleon--his hero--but at that moment Napoleon seemed to him such a
+small, insignificant creature compared with what was passing now between
+himself and that lofty infinite sky with the clouds flying over it. At
+that moment it meant nothing to him who might be standing over him, or
+what was said of him; he was only glad that people were standing near
+him and only wished that they would help him and bring him back to life,
+which seemed to him so beautiful now that he had today learned to
+understand it so differently. He collected all his strength, to stir and
+utter a sound. He feebly moved his leg and uttered a weak, sickly groan
+which aroused his own pity.
+
+"Ah! He is alive," said Napoleon. "Lift this young man up and carry him
+to the dressing station."
+
+Having said this, Napoleon rode on to meet Marshal Lannes, who, hat in
+hand, rode up smiling to the Emperor to congratulate him on the victory.
+
+Prince Andrew remembered nothing more: he lost consciousness from the
+terrible pain of being lifted onto the stretcher, the jolting while
+being moved, and the probing of his wound at the dressing station. He
+did not regain consciousness till late in the day, when with other
+wounded and captured Russian officers he was carried to the hospital.
+During this transfer he felt a little stronger and was able to look
+about him and even speak.
+
+The first words he heard on coming to his senses were those of a French
+convoy officer, who said rapidly: "We must halt here: the Emperor will
+pass here immediately; it will please him to see these gentlemen
+prisoners."
+
+"There are so many prisoners today, nearly the whole Russian army, that
+he is probably tired of them," said another officer.
+
+"All the same! They say this one is the commander of all the Emperor
+Alexander's Guards," said the first one, indicating a Russian officer in
+the white uniform of the Horse Guards.
+
+Bolkonski recognized Prince Repnin whom he had met in Petersburg
+society. Beside him stood a lad of nineteen, also a wounded officer of
+the Horse Guards.
+
+Bonaparte, having come up at a gallop, stopped his horse.
+
+"Which is the senior?" he asked, on seeing the prisoners.
+
+They named the colonel, Prince Repnin.
+
+"You are the commander of the Emperor Alexander's regiment of Horse
+Guards?" asked Napoleon.
+
+"I commanded a squadron," replied Repnin.
+
+"Your regiment fulfilled its duty honorably," said Napoleon.
+
+"The praise of a great commander is a soldier's highest reward," said
+Repnin.
+
+"I bestow it with pleasure," said Napoleon. "And who is that young man
+beside you?"
+
+Prince Repnin named Lieutenant Sukhtelen.
+
+After looking at him Napoleon smiled.
+
+"He's very young to come to meddle with us."
+
+"Youth is no hindrance to courage," muttered Sukhtelen in a failing
+voice.
+
+"A splendid reply!" said Napoleon. "Young man, you will go far!"
+
+Prince Andrew, who had also been brought forward before the Emperor's
+eyes to complete the show of prisoners, could not fail to attract his
+attention. Napoleon apparently remembered seeing him on the battlefield
+and, addressing him, again used the epithet "young man" that was
+connected in his memory with Prince Andrew.
+
+"Well, and you, young man," said he. "How do you feel, mon brave?"
+
+Though five minutes before, Prince Andrew had been able to say a few
+words to the soldiers who were carrying him, now with his eyes fixed
+straight on Napoleon, he was silent.... So insignificant at that moment
+seemed to him all the interests that engrossed Napoleon, so mean did his
+hero himself with his paltry vanity and joy in victory appear, compared
+to the lofty, equitable, and kindly sky which he had seen and
+understood, that he could not answer him.
+
+Everything seemed so futile and insignificant in comparison with the
+stern and solemn train of thought that weakness from loss of blood,
+suffering, and the nearness of death aroused in him. Looking into
+Napoleon's eyes Prince Andrew thought of the insignificance of
+greatness, the unimportance of life which no one could understand, and
+the still greater unimportance of death, the meaning of which no one
+alive could understand or explain.
+
+The Emperor without waiting for an answer turned away and said to one of
+the officers as he went: "Have these gentlemen attended to and taken to
+my bivouac; let my doctor, Larrey, examine their wounds. Au revoir,
+Prince Repnin!" and he spurred his horse and galloped away.
+
+His face shone with self-satisfaction and pleasure.
+
+The soldiers who had carried Prince Andrew had noticed and taken the
+little gold icon Princess Mary had hung round her brother's neck, but
+seeing the favor the Emperor showed the prisoners, they now hastened to
+return the holy image.
+
+Prince Andrew did not see how and by whom it was replaced, but the
+little icon with its thin gold chain suddenly appeared upon his chest
+outside his uniform.
+
+"It would be good," thought Prince Andrew, glancing at the icon his
+sister had hung round his neck with such emotion and reverence, "it
+would be good if everything were as clear and simple as it seems to
+Mary. How good it would be to know where to seek for help in this life,
+and what to expect after it beyond the grave! How happy and calm I
+should be if I could now say: 'Lord, have mercy on me!'... But to whom
+should I say that? Either to a Power indefinable, incomprehensible,
+which I not only cannot address but which I cannot even express in
+words--the Great All or Nothing-" said he to himself, "or to that God
+who has been sewn into this amulet by Mary! There is nothing certain,
+nothing at all except the unimportance of everything I understand, and
+the greatness of something incomprehensible but all-important."
+
+The stretchers moved on. At every jolt he again felt unendurable pain;
+his feverishness increased and he grew delirious. Visions of his father,
+wife, sister, and future son, and the tenderness he had felt the night
+before the battle, the figure of the insignificant little Napoleon, and
+above all this the lofty sky, formed the chief subjects of his delirious
+fancies.
+
+The quiet home life and peaceful happiness of Bald Hills presented
+itself to him. He was already enjoying that happiness when that little
+Napoleon had suddenly appeared with his unsympathizing look of
+shortsighted delight at the misery of others, and doubts and torments
+had followed, and only the heavens promised peace. Toward morning all
+these dreams melted and merged into the chaos and darkness of
+unconciousness and oblivion which in the opinion of Napoleon's doctor,
+Larrey, was much more likely to end in death than in convalescence.
+
+"He is a nervous, bilious subject," said Larrey, "and will not recover."
+
+And Prince Andrew, with others fatally wounded, was left to the care of
+the inhabitants of the district.
+
+BOOK FOUR: 1806
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+Early in the year 1806 Nicholas Rostov returned home on leave. Denisov
+was going home to Voronezh and Rostov persuaded him to travel with him
+as far as Moscow and to stay with him there. Meeting a comrade at the
+last post station but one before Moscow, Denisov had drunk three bottles
+of wine with him and, despite the jolting ruts across the snow-covered
+road, did not once wake up on the way to Moscow, but lay at the bottom
+of the sleigh beside Rostov, who grew more and more impatient the nearer
+they got to Moscow.
+
+"How much longer? How much longer? Oh, these insufferable streets,
+shops, bakers' signboards, street lamps, and sleighs!" thought Rostov,
+when their leave permits had been passed at the town gate and they had
+entered Moscow.
+
+"Denisov! We're here! He's asleep," he added, leaning forward with his
+whole body as if in that position he hoped to hasten the speed of the
+sleigh.
+
+Denisov gave no answer.
+
+"There's the corner at the crossroads, where the cabman, Zakhar, has his
+stand, and there's Zakhar himself and still the same horse! And here's
+the little shop where we used to buy gingerbread! Can't you hurry up?
+Now then!"
+
+"Which house is it?" asked the driver.
+
+"Why, that one, right at the end, the big one. Don't you see? That's our
+house," said Rostov. "Of course, it's our house! Denisov, Denisov! We're
+almost there!"
+
+Denisov raised his head, coughed, and made no answer.
+
+"Dmitri," said Rostov to his valet on the box, "those lights are in our
+house, aren't they?"
+
+"Yes, sir, and there's a light in your father's study."
+
+"Then they've not gone to bed yet? What do you think? Mind now, don't
+forget to put out my new coat," added Rostov, fingering his new
+mustache. "Now then, get on," he shouted to the driver. "Do wake up,
+Vaska!" he went on, turning to Denisov, whose head was again nodding.
+"Come, get on! You shall have three rubles for vodka--get on!" Rostov
+shouted, when the sleigh was only three houses from his door. It seemed
+to him the horses were not moving at all. At last the sleigh bore to the
+right, drew up at an entrance, and Rostov saw overhead the old familiar
+cornice with a bit of plaster broken off, the porch, and the post by the
+side of the pavement. He sprang out before the sleigh stopped, and ran
+into the hall. The house stood cold and silent, as if quite regardless
+of who had come to it. There was no one in the hall. "Oh God! Is
+everyone all right?" he thought, stopping for a moment with a sinking
+heart, and then immediately starting to run along the hall and up the
+warped steps of the familiar staircase. The well-known old door handle,
+which always angered the countess when it was not properly cleaned,
+turned as loosely as ever. A solitary tallow candle burned in the
+anteroom.
+
+Old Michael was asleep on the chest. Prokofy, the footman, who was so
+strong that he could lift the back of the carriage from behind, sat
+plaiting slippers out of cloth selvedges. He looked up at the opening
+door and his expression of sleepy indifference suddenly changed to one
+of delighted amazement.
+
+"Gracious heavens! The young count!" he cried, recognizing his young
+master. "Can it be? My treasure!" and Prokofy, trembling with
+excitement, rushed toward the drawing-room door, probably in order to
+announce him, but, changing his mind, came back and stooped to kiss the
+young man's shoulder.
+
+"All well?" asked Rostov, drawing away his arm.
+
+"Yes, God be thanked! Yes! They've just finished supper. Let me have a
+look at you, your excellency."
+
+"Is everything quite all right?"
+
+"The Lord be thanked, yes!"
+
+Rostov, who had completely forgotten Denisov, not wishing anyone to
+forestall him, threw off his fur coat and ran on tiptoe through the
+large dark ballroom. All was the same: there were the same old card
+tables and the same chandelier with a cover over it; but someone had
+already seen the young master, and, before he had reached the drawing
+room, something flew out from a side door like a tornado and began
+hugging and kissing him. Another and yet another creature of the same
+kind sprang from a second door and a third; more hugging, more kissing,
+more outcries, and tears of joy. He could not distinguish which was
+Papa, which Natasha, and which Petya. Everyone shouted, talked, and
+kissed him at the same time. Only his mother was not there, he noticed
+that.
+
+"And I did not know... Nicholas... My darling!..."
+
+"Here he is... our own... Kolya, * dear fellow... How he has changed!...
+Where are the candles?... Tea!..."
+
+
+* Nicholas.
+
+"And me, kiss me!"
+
+"Dearest... and me!"
+
+Sonya, Natasha, Petya, Anna Mikhaylovna, Vera, and the old count were
+all hugging him, and the serfs, men and maids, flocked into the room,
+exclaiming and oh-ing and ah-ing.
+
+Petya, clinging to his legs, kept shouting, "And me too!"
+
+Natasha, after she had pulled him down toward her and covered his face
+with kisses, holding him tight by the skirt of his coat, sprang away and
+pranced up and down in one place like a goat and shrieked piercingly.
+
+All around were loving eyes glistening with tears of joy, and all around
+were lips seeking a kiss.
+
+Sonya too, all rosy red, clung to his arm and, radiant with bliss,
+looked eagerly toward his eyes, waiting for the look for which she
+longed. Sonya now was sixteen and she was very pretty, especially at
+this moment of happy, rapturous excitement. She gazed at him, not taking
+her eyes off him, and smiling and holding her breath. He gave her a
+grateful look, but was still expectant and looking for someone. The old
+countess had not yet come. But now steps were heard at the door, steps
+so rapid that they could hardly be his mother's.
+
+Yet it was she, dressed in a new gown which he did not know, made since
+he had left. All the others let him go, and he ran to her. When they
+met, she fell on his breast, sobbing. She could not lift her face, but
+only pressed it to the cold braiding of his hussar's jacket. Denisov,
+who had come into the room unnoticed by anyone, stood there and wiped
+his eyes at the sight.
+
+"Vasili Denisov, your son's friend," he said, introducing himself to the
+count, who was looking inquiringly at him.
+
+"You are most welcome! I know, I know," said the count, kissing and
+embracing Denisov. "Nicholas wrote us... Natasha, Vera, look! Here is
+Denisov!"
+
+The same happy, rapturous faces turned to the shaggy figure of Denisov.
+
+"Darling Denisov!" screamed Natasha, beside herself with rapture,
+springing to him, putting her arms round him, and kissing him. This
+escapade made everybody feel confused. Denisov blushed too, but smiled
+and, taking Natasha's hand, kissed it.
+
+Denisov was shown to the room prepared for him, and the Rostovs all
+gathered round Nicholas in the sitting room.
+
+The old countess, not letting go of his hand and kissing it every
+moment, sat beside him: the rest, crowding round him, watched every
+movement, word, or look of his, never taking their blissfully adoring
+eyes off him. His brother and sisters struggled for the places nearest
+to him and disputed with one another who should bring him his tea,
+handkerchief, and pipe.
+
+Rostov was very happy in the love they showed him; but the first moment
+of meeting had been so beatific that his present joy seemed
+insufficient, and he kept expecting something more, more and yet more.
+
+Next morning, after the fatigues of their journey, the travelers slept
+till ten o'clock.
+
+In the room next their bedroom there was a confusion of sabers,
+satchels, sabretaches, open portmanteaus, and dirty boots. Two freshly
+cleaned pairs with spurs had just been placed by the wall. The servants
+were bringing in jugs and basins, hot water for shaving, and their well-
+brushed clothes. There was a masculine odor and a smell of tobacco.
+
+"Hallo, Gwiska--my pipe!" came Vasili Denisov's husky voice. "Wostov,
+get up!"
+
+Rostov, rubbing his eyes that seemed glued together, raised his
+disheveled head from the hot pillow.
+
+"Why, is it late?"
+
+"Late! It's nearly ten o'clock," answered Natasha's voice. A rustle of
+starched petticoats and the whispering and laughter of girls' voices
+came from the adjoining room. The door was opened a crack and there was
+a glimpse of something blue, of ribbons, black hair, and merry faces. It
+was Natasha, Sonya, and Petya, who had come to see whether they were
+getting up.
+
+"Nicholas! Get up!" Natasha's voice was again heard at the door.
+
+"Directly!"
+
+Meanwhile, Petya, having found and seized the sabers in the outer room,
+with the delight boys feel at the sight of a military elder brother, and
+forgetting that it was unbecoming for the girls to see men undressed,
+opened the bedroom door.
+
+"Is this your saber?" he shouted.
+
+The girls sprang aside. Denisov hid his hairy legs under the blanket,
+looking with a scared face at his comrade for help. The door, having let
+Petya in, closed again. A sound of laughter came from behind it.
+
+"Nicholas! Come out in your dressing gown!" said Natasha's voice.
+
+"Is this your saber?" asked Petya. "Or is it yours?" he said, addressing
+the black-mustached Denisov with servile deference.
+
+Rostov hurriedly put something on his feet, drew on his dressing gown,
+and went out. Natasha had put on one spurred boot and was just getting
+her foot into the other. Sonya, when he came in, was twirling round and
+was about to expand her dresses into a balloon and sit down. They were
+dressed alike, in new pale-blue frocks, and were both fresh, rosy, and
+bright. Sonya ran away, but Natasha, taking her brother's arm, led him
+into the sitting room, where they began talking. They hardly gave one
+another time to ask questions and give replies concerning a thousand
+little matters which could not interest anyone but themselves. Natasha
+laughed at every word he said or that she said herself, not because what
+they were saying was amusing, but because she felt happy and was unable
+to control her joy which expressed itself by laughter.
+
+"Oh, how nice, how splendid!" she said to everything.
+
+Rostov felt that, under the influence of the warm rays of love, that
+childlike smile which had not once appeared on his face since he left
+home now for the first time after eighteen months again brightened his
+soul and his face.
+
+"No, but listen," she said, "now you are quite a man, aren't you? I'm
+awfully glad you're my brother." She touched his mustache. "I want to
+know what you men are like. Are you the same as we? No?"
+
+"Why did Sonya run away?" asked Rostov.
+
+"Ah, yes! That's a whole long story! How are you going to speak to her--
+thou or you?"
+
+"As may happen," said Rostov.
+
+"No, call her you, please! I'll tell you all about it some other time.
+No, I'll tell you now. You know Sonya's my dearest friend. Such a friend
+that I burned my arm for her sake. Look here!"
+
+She pulled up her muslin sleeve and showed him a red scar on her long,
+slender, delicate arm, high above the elbow on that part that is covered
+even by a ball dress.
+
+"I burned this to prove my love for her. I just heated a ruler in the
+fire and pressed it there!"
+
+Sitting on the sofa with the little cushions on its arms, in what used
+to be his old schoolroom, and looking into Natasha's wildly bright eyes,
+Rostov re-entered that world of home and childhood which had no meaning
+for anyone else, but gave him some of the best joys of his life; and the
+burning of an arm with a ruler as a proof of love did not seem to him
+senseless, he understood and was not surprised at it.
+
+"Well, and is that all?" he asked.
+
+"We are such friends, such friends! All that ruler business was just
+nonsense, but we are friends forever. She, if she loves anyone, does it
+for life, but I don't understand that, I forget quickly."
+
+"Well, what then?"
+
+"Well, she loves me and you like that."
+
+Natasha suddenly flushed.
+
+"Why, you remember before you went away?... Well, she says you are to
+forget all that.... She says: 'I shall love him always, but let him be
+free.' Isn't that lovely and noble! Yes, very noble? Isn't it?" asked
+Natasha, so seriously and excitedly that it was evident that what she
+was now saying she had talked of before, with tears.
+
+Rostov became thoughtful.
+
+"I never go back on my word," he said. "Besides, Sonya is so charming
+that only a fool would renounce such happiness."
+
+"No, no!" cried Natasha, "she and I have already talked it over. We knew
+you'd say so. But it won't do, because you see, if you say that--if you
+consider yourself bound by your promise--it will seem as if she had not
+meant it seriously. It makes it as if you were marrying her because you
+must, and that wouldn't do at all."
+
+Rostov saw that it had been well considered by them. Sonya had already
+struck him by her beauty on the preceding day. Today, when he had caught
+a glimpse of her, she seemed still more lovely. She was a charming girl
+of sixteen, evidently passionately in love with him (he did not doubt
+that for an instant). Why should he not love her now, and even marry
+her, Rostov thought, but just now there were so many other pleasures and
+interests before him! "Yes, they have taken a wise decision," he
+thought, "I must remain free."
+
+"Well then, that's excellent," said he. "We'll talk it over later on.
+Oh, how glad I am to have you!"
+
+"Well, and are you still true to Boris?" he continued.
+
+"Oh, what nonsense!" cried Natasha, laughing. "I don't think about him
+or anyone else, and I don't want anything of the kind."
+
+"Dear me! Then what are you up to now?"
+
+"Now?" repeated Natasha, and a happy smile lit up her face. "Have you
+seen Duport?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Not seen Duport--the famous dancer? Well then, you won't understand.
+That's what I'm up to."
+
+Curving her arms, Natasha held out her skirts as dancers do, ran back a
+few steps, turned, cut a caper, brought her little feet sharply
+together, and made some steps on the very tips of her toes.
+
+"See, I'm standing! See!" she said, but could not maintain herself on
+her toes any longer. "So that's what I'm up to! I'll never marry anyone,
+but will be a dancer. Only don't tell anyone."
+
+Rostov laughed so loud and merrily that Denisov, in his bedroom, felt
+envious and Natasha could not help joining in.
+
+"No, but don't you think it's nice?" she kept repeating.
+
+"Nice! And so you no longer wish to marry Boris?"
+
+Natasha flared up. "I don't want to marry anyone. And I'll tell him so
+when I see him!"
+
+"Dear me!" said Rostov.
+
+"But that's all rubbish," Natasha chattered on. "And is Denisov nice?"
+she asked.
+
+"Yes, indeed!"
+
+"Oh, well then, good-by: go and dress. Is he very terrible, Denisov?"
+
+"Why terrible?" asked Nicholas. "No, Vaska is a splendid fellow."
+
+"You call him Vaska? That's funny! And is he very nice?"
+
+"Very."
+
+"Well then, be quick. We'll all have breakfast together."
+
+And Natasha rose and went out of the room on tiptoe, like a ballet
+dancer, but smiling as only happy girls of fifteen can smile. When
+Rostov met Sonya in the drawing room, he reddened. He did not know how
+to behave with her. The evening before, in the first happy moment of
+meeting, they had kissed each other, but today they felt it could not be
+done; he felt that everybody, including his mother and sisters, was
+looking inquiringly at him and watching to see how he would behave with
+her. He kissed her hand and addressed her not as thou but as you--Sonya.
+But their eyes met and said thou, and exchanged tender kisses. Her looks
+asked him to forgive her for having dared, by Natasha's intermediacy, to
+remind him of his promise, and then thanked him for his love. His looks
+thanked her for offering him his freedom and told her that one way or
+another he would never cease to love her, for that would be impossible.
+
+"How strange it is," said Vera, selecting a moment when all were silent,
+"that Sonya and Nicholas now say you to one another and meet like
+strangers."
+
+Vera's remark was correct, as her remarks always were, but, like most of
+her observations, it made everyone feel uncomfortable, not only Sonya,
+Nicholas, and Natasha, but even the old countess, who--dreading this
+love affair which might hinder Nicholas from making a brilliant match--
+blushed like a girl.
+
+Denisov, to Rostov's surprise, appeared in the drawing room with pomaded
+hair, perfumed, and in a new uniform, looking just as smart as he made
+himself when going into battle, and he was more amiable to the ladies
+and gentlemen than Rostov had ever expected to see him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+On his return to Moscow from the army, Nicholas Rostov was welcomed by
+his home circle as the best of sons, a hero, and their darling
+Nikolenka; by his relations as a charming, attractive, and polite young
+man; by his acquaintances as a handsome lieutenant of hussars, a good
+dancer, and one of the best matches in the city.
+
+The Rostovs knew everybody in Moscow. The old count had money enough
+that year, as all his estates had been remortgaged, and so Nicholas,
+acquiring a trotter of his own, very stylish riding breeches of the
+latest cut, such as no one else yet had in Moscow, and boots of the
+latest fashion, with extremely pointed toes and small silver spurs,
+passed his time very gaily. After a short period of adapting himself to
+the old conditions of life, Nicholas found it very pleasant to be at
+home again. He felt that he had grown up and matured very much. His
+despair at failing in a Scripture examination, his borrowing money from
+Gavril to pay a sleigh driver, his kissing Sonya on the sly--he now
+recalled all this as childishness he had left immeasurably behind. Now
+he was a lieutenant of hussars, in a jacket laced with silver, and
+wearing the Cross of St. George, awarded to soldiers for bravery in
+action, and in the company of well-known, elderly, and respected racing
+men was training a trotter of his own for a race. He knew a lady on one
+of the boulevards whom he visited of an evening. He led the mazurka at
+the Arkharovs' ball, talked about the war with Field Marshal Kamenski,
+visited the English Club, and was on intimate terms with a colonel of
+forty to whom Denisov had introduced him.
+
+His passion for the Emperor had cooled somewhat in Moscow. But still, as
+he did not see him and had no opportunity of seeing him, he often spoke
+about him and about his love for him, letting it be understood that he
+had not told all and that there was something in his feelings for the
+Emperor not everyone could understand, and with his whole soul he shared
+the adoration then common in Moscow for the Emperor, who was spoken of
+as the "angel incarnate."
+
+During Rostov's short stay in Moscow, before rejoining the army, he did
+not draw closer to Sonya, but rather drifted away from her. She was very
+pretty and sweet, and evidently deeply in love with him, but he was at
+the period of youth when there seems so much to do that there is no time
+for that sort of thing and a young man fears to bind himself and prizes
+his freedom which he needs for so many other things. When he thought of
+Sonya, during this stay in Moscow, he said to himself, "Ah, there will
+be, and there are, many more such girls somewhere whom I do not yet
+know. There will be time enough to think about love when I want to, but
+now I have no time." Besides, it seemed to him that the society of women
+was rather derogatory to his manhood. He went to balls and into ladies'
+society with an affectation of doing so against his will. The races, the
+English Club, sprees with Denisov, and visits to a certain house--that
+was another matter and quite the thing for a dashing young hussar!
+
+At the beginning of March, old Count Ilya Rostov was very busy arranging
+a dinner in honor of Prince Bagration at the English Club.
+
+The count walked up and down the hall in his dressing gown, giving
+orders to the club steward and to the famous Feoktist, the club's head
+cook, about asparagus, fresh cucumbers, strawberries, veal, and fish for
+this dinner. The count had been a member and on the committee of the
+club from the day it was founded. To him the club entrusted the
+arrangement of the festival in honor of Bagration, for few men knew so
+well how to arrange a feast on an open-handed, hospitable scale, and
+still fewer men would be so well able and willing to make up out of
+their own resources what might be needed for the success of the fete.
+The club cook and the steward listened to the count's orders with
+pleased faces, for they knew that under no other management could they
+so easily extract a good profit for themselves from a dinner costing
+several thousand rubles.
+
+"Well then, mind and have cocks' comb in the turtle soup, you know!"
+
+"Shall we have three cold dishes then?" asked the cook.
+
+The count considered.
+
+"We can't have less--yes, three... the mayonnaise, that's one," said he,
+bending down a finger.
+
+"Then am I to order those large sterlets?" asked the steward.
+
+"Yes, it can't be helped if they won't take less. Ah, dear me! I was
+forgetting. We must have another entree. Ah, goodness gracious!" he
+clutched at his head. "Who is going to get me the flowers? Dmitri! Eh,
+Dmitri! Gallop off to our Moscow estate," he said to the factotum who
+appeared at his call. "Hurry off and tell Maksim, the gardener, to set
+the serfs to work. Say that everything out of the hothouses must be
+brought here well wrapped up in felt. I must have two hundred pots here
+on Friday."
+
+Having given several more orders, he was about to go to his "little
+countess" to have a rest, but remembering something else of importance,
+he returned again, called back the cook and the club steward, and again
+began giving orders. A light footstep and the clinking of spurs were
+heard at the door, and the young count, handsome, rosy, with a dark
+little mustache, evidently rested and made sleeker by his easy life in
+Moscow, entered the room.
+
+"Ah, my boy, my head's in a whirl!" said the old man with a smile, as if
+he felt a little confused before his son. "Now, if you would only help a
+bit! I must have singers too. I shall have my own orchestra, but
+shouldn't we get the gypsy singers as well? You military men like that
+sort of thing."
+
+"Really, Papa, I believe Prince Bagration worried himself less before
+the battle of Schon Grabern than you do now," said his son with a smile.
+
+The old count pretended to be angry.
+
+"Yes, you talk, but try it yourself!"
+
+And the count turned to the cook, who, with a shrewd and respectful
+expression, looked observantly and sympathetically at the father and
+son.
+
+"What have the young people come to nowadays, eh, Feoktist?" said he.
+"Laughing at us old fellows!"
+
+"That's so, your excellency, all they have to do is to eat a good
+dinner, but providing it and serving it all up, that's not their
+business!"
+
+"That's it, that's it!" exclaimed the count, and gaily seizing his son
+by both hands, he cried, "Now I've got you, so take the sleigh and pair
+at once, and go to Bezukhov's, and tell him 'Count Ilya has sent you to
+ask for strawberries and fresh pineapples.' We can't get them from
+anyone else. He's not there himself, so you'll have to go in and ask the
+princesses; and from there go on to the Rasgulyay--the coachman Ipatka
+knows--and look up the gypsy Ilyushka, the one who danced at Count
+Orlov's, you remember, in a white Cossack coat, and bring him along to
+me."
+
+"And am I to bring the gypsy girls along with him?" asked Nicholas,
+laughing. "Dear, dear!..."
+
+At that moment, with noiseless footsteps and with the businesslike,
+preoccupied, yet meekly Christian look which never left her face, Anna
+Mikhaylovna entered the hall. Though she came upon the count in his
+dressing gown every day, he invariably became confused and begged her to
+excuse his costume.
+
+"No matter at all, my dear count," she said, meekly closing her eyes.
+"But I'll go to Bezukhov's myself. Pierre has arrived, and now we shall
+get anything we want from his hothouses. I have to see him in any case.
+He has forwarded me a letter from Boris. Thank God, Boris is now on the
+staff."
+
+The count was delighted at Anna Mikhaylovna's taking upon herself one of
+his commissions and ordered the small closed carriage for her.
+
+"Tell Bezukhov to come. I'll put his name down. Is his wife with him?"
+he asked.
+
+Anna Mikhaylovna turned up her eyes, and profound sadness was depicted
+on her face.
+
+"Ah, my dear friend, he is very unfortunate," she said. "If what we hear
+is true, it is dreadful. How little we dreamed of such a thing when we
+were rejoicing at his happiness! And such a lofty angelic soul as young
+Bezukhov! Yes, I pity him from my heart, and shall try to give him what
+consolation I can."
+
+"Wh-what is the matter?" asked both the young and old Rostov.
+
+Anna Mikhaylovna sighed deeply.
+
+"Dolokhov, Mary Ivanovna's son," she said in a mysterious whisper, "has
+compromised her completely, they say. Pierre took him up, invited him to
+his house in Petersburg, and now... she has come here and that daredevil
+after her!" said Anna Mikhaylovna, wishing to show her sympathy for
+Pierre, but by involuntary intonations and a half smile betraying her
+sympathy for the "daredevil," as she called Dolokhov. "They say Pierre
+is quite broken by his misfortune."
+
+"Dear, dear! But still tell him to come to the club--it will all blow
+over. It will be a tremendous banquet."
+
+Next day, the third of March, soon after one o'clock, two hundred and
+fifty members of the English Club and fifty guests were awaiting the
+guest of honor and hero of the Austrian campaign, Prince Bagration, to
+dinner.
+
+On the first arrival of the news of the battle of Austerlitz, Moscow had
+been bewildered. At that time, the Russians were so used to victories
+that on receiving news of the defeat some would simply not believe it,
+while others sought some extraordinary explanation of so strange an
+event. In the English Club, where all who were distinguished, important,
+and well informed foregathered when the news began to arrive in
+December, nothing was said about the war and the last battle, as though
+all were in a conspiracy of silence. The men who set the tone in
+conversation--Count Rostopchin, Prince Yuri Dolgorukov, Valuev, Count
+Markov, and Prince Vyazemski--did not show themselves at the club, but
+met in private houses in intimate circles, and the Moscovites who took
+their opinions from others--Ilya Rostov among them--remained for a while
+without any definite opinion on the subject of the war and without
+leaders. The Moscovites felt that something was wrong and that to
+discuss the bad news was difficult, and so it was best to be silent. But
+after a while, just as a jury comes out of its room, the bigwigs who
+guided the club's opinion reappeared, and everybody began speaking
+clearly and definitely. Reasons were found for the incredible, unheard-
+of, and impossible event of a Russian defeat, everything became clear,
+and in all corners of Moscow the same things began to be said. These
+reasons were the treachery of the Austrians, a defective commissariat,
+the treachery of the Pole Przebyszewski and of the Frenchman Langeron,
+Kutuzov's incapacity, and (it was whispered) the youth and inexperience
+of the sovereign, who had trusted worthless and insignificant people.
+But the army, the Russian army, everyone declared, was extraordinary and
+had achieved miracles of valor. The soldiers, officers, and generals
+were heroes. But the hero of heroes was Prince Bagration, distinguished
+by his Schon Grabern affair and by the retreat from Austerlitz, where he
+alone had withdrawn his column unbroken and had all day beaten back an
+enemy force twice as numerous as his own. What also conduced to
+Bagration's being selected as Moscow's hero was the fact that he had no
+connections in the city and was a stranger there. In his person, honor
+was shown to a simple fighting Russian soldier without connections and
+intrigues, and to one who was associated by memories of the Italian
+campaign with the name of Suvorov. Moreover, paying such honor to
+Bagration was the best way of expressing disapproval and dislike of
+Kutuzov.
+
+"Had there been no Bagration, it would have been necessary to invent
+him," said the wit Shinshin, parodying the words of Voltaire. Kutuzov no
+one spoke of, except some who abused him in whispers, calling him a
+court weathercock and an old satyr.
+
+All Moscow repeated Prince Dolgorukov's saying: "If you go on modeling
+and modeling you must get smeared with clay," suggesting consolation for
+our defeat by the memory of former victories; and the words of
+Rostopchin, that French soldiers have to be incited to battle by
+highfalutin words, and Germans by logical arguments to show them that it
+is more dangerous to run away than to advance, but that Russian soldiers
+only need to be restrained and held back! On all sides, new and fresh
+anecdotes were heard of individual examples of heroism shown by our
+officers and men at Austerlitz. One had saved a standard, another had
+killed five Frenchmen, a third had loaded five cannon singlehanded. Berg
+was mentioned, by those who did not know him, as having, when wounded in
+the right hand, taken his sword in the left, and gone forward. Of
+Bolkonski, nothing was said, and only those who knew him intimately
+regretted that he had died so young, leaving a pregnant wife with his
+eccentric father.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+On that third of March, all the rooms in the English Club were filled
+with a hum of conversation, like the hum of bees swarming in springtime.
+The members and guests of the club wandered hither and thither, sat,
+stood, met, and separated, some in uniform and some in evening dress,
+and a few here and there with powdered hair and in Russian kaftans.
+Powdered footmen, in livery with buckled shoes and smart stockings,
+stood at every door anxiously noting visitors' every movement in order
+to offer their services. Most of those present were elderly, respected
+men with broad, self-confident faces, fat fingers, and resolute gestures
+and voices. This class of guests and members sat in certain habitual
+places and met in certain habitual groups. A minority of those present
+were casual guests--chiefly young men, among whom were Denisov, Rostov,
+and Dolokhov--who was now again an officer in the Semenov regiment. The
+faces of these young people, especially those who were military men,
+bore that expression of condescending respect for their elders which
+seems to say to the older generation, "We are prepared to respect and
+honor you, but all the same remember that the future belongs to us."
+
+Nesvitski was there as an old member of the club. Pierre, who at his
+wife's command had let his hair grow and abandoned his spectacles, went
+about the rooms fashionably dressed but looking sad and dull. Here, as
+elsewhere, he was surrounded by an atmosphere of subservience to his
+wealth, and being in the habit of lording it over these people, he
+treated them with absent-minded contempt.
+
+By his age he should have belonged to the younger men, but by his wealth
+and connections he belonged to the groups of old and honored guests, and
+so he went from one group to another. Some of the most important old men
+were the center of groups which even strangers approached respectfully
+to hear the voices of well-known men. The largest circles formed round
+Count Rostopchin, Valuev, and Naryshkin. Rostopchin was describing how
+the Russians had been overwhelmed by flying Austrians and had had to
+force their way through them with bayonets.
+
+Valuev was confidentially telling that Uvarov had been sent from
+Petersburg to ascertain what Moscow was thinking about Austerlitz.
+
+In the third circle, Naryshkin was speaking of the meeting of the
+Austrian Council of War at which Suvorov crowed like a cock in reply to
+the nonsense talked by the Austrian generals. Shinshin, standing close
+by, tried to make a joke, saying that Kutuzov had evidently failed to
+learn from Suvorov even so simple a thing as the art of crowing like a
+cock, but the elder members glanced severely at the wit, making him feel
+that in that place and on that day, it was improper to speak so of
+Kutuzov.
+
+Count Ilya Rostov, hurried and preoccupied, went about in his soft boots
+between the dining and drawing rooms, hastily greeting the important and
+unimportant, all of whom he knew, as if they were all equals, while his
+eyes occasionally sought out his fine well-set-up young son, resting on
+him and winking joyfully at him. Young Rostov stood at a window with
+Dolokhov, whose acquaintance he had lately made and highly valued. The
+old count came up to them and pressed Dolokhov's hand.
+
+"Please come and visit us... you know my brave boy... been together out
+there... both playing the hero... Ah, Vasili Ignatovich... How d'ye do,
+old fellow?" he said, turning to an old man who was passing, but before
+he had finished his greeting there was a general stir, and a footman who
+had run in announced, with a frightened face: "He's arrived!"
+
+Bells rang, the stewards rushed forward, and--like rye shaken together
+in a shovel--the guests who had been scattered about in different rooms
+came together and crowded in the large drawing room by the door of the
+ballroom.
+
+Bagration appeared in the doorway of the anteroom without hat or sword,
+which, in accord with the club custom, he had given up to the hall
+porter. He had no lambskin cap on his head, nor had he a loaded whip
+over his shoulder, as when Rostov had seen him on the eve of the battle
+of Austerlitz, but wore a tight new uniform with Russian and foreign
+Orders, and the Star of St. George on his left breast. Evidently just
+before coming to the dinner he had had his hair and whiskers trimmed,
+which changed his appearance for the worse. There was something naively
+festive in his air, which, in conjunction with his firm and virile
+features, gave him a rather comical expression. Bekleshev and Theodore
+Uvarov, who had arrived with him, paused at the doorway to allow him, as
+the guest of honor, to enter first. Bagration was embarrassed, not
+wishing to avail himself of their courtesy, and this caused some delay
+at the doors, but after all he did at last enter first. He walked shyly
+and awkwardly over the parquet floor of the reception room, not knowing
+what to do with his hands; he was more accustomed to walk over a plowed
+field under fire, as he had done at the head of the Kursk regiment at
+Schon Grabern--and he would have found that easier. The committeemen met
+him at the first door and, expressing their delight at seeing such a
+highly honored guest, took possession of him as it were, without waiting
+for his reply, surrounded him, and led him to the drawing room. It was
+at first impossible to enter the drawing-room door for the crowd of
+members and guests jostling one another and trying to get a good look at
+Bagration over each other's shoulders, as if he were some rare animal.
+Count Ilya Rostov, laughing and repeating the words, "Make way, dear
+boy! Make way, make way!" pushed through the crowd more energetically
+than anyone, led the guests into the drawing room, and seated them on
+the center sofa. The bigwigs, the most respected members of the club,
+beset the new arrivals. Count Ilya, again thrusting his way through the
+crowd, went out of the drawing room and reappeared a minute later with
+another committeeman, carrying a large silver salver which he presented
+to Prince Bagration. On the salver lay some verses composed and printed
+in the hero's honor. Bagration, on seeing the salver, glanced around in
+dismay, as though seeking help. But all eyes demanded that he should
+submit. Feeling himself in their power, he resolutely took the salver
+with both hands and looked sternly and reproachfully at the count who
+had presented it to him. Someone obligingly took the dish from Bagration
+(or he would, it seemed, have held it till evening and have gone in to
+dinner with it) and drew his attention to the verses.
+
+"Well, I will read them, then!" Bagration seemed to say, and, fixing his
+weary eyes on the paper, began to read them with a fixed and serious
+expression. But the author himself took the verses and began reading
+them aloud. Bagration bowed his head and listened:
+
+
+Bring glory then to Alexander's reign And on the throne our Titus
+shield. A dreaded foe be thou, kindhearted as a man, A Rhipheus at home,
+a Caesar in the field! E'en fortunate Napoleon Knows by experience, now,
+Bagration, And dare not Herculean Russians trouble...
+
+But before he had finished reading, a stentorian major-domo announced
+that dinner was ready! The door opened, and from the dining room came
+the resounding strains of the polonaise:
+
+
+Conquest's joyful thunder waken, Triumph, valiant Russians, now!...
+
+and Count Rostov, glancing angrily at the author who went on reading his
+verses, bowed to Bagration. Everyone rose, feeling that dinner was more
+important than verses, and Bagration, again preceding all the rest, went
+in to dinner. He was seated in the place of honor between two
+Alexanders--Bekleshev and Naryshkin--which was a significant allusion to
+the name of the sovereign. Three hundred persons took their seats in the
+dining room, according to their rank and importance: the more important
+nearer to the honored guest, as naturally as water flows deepest where
+the land lies lowest.
+
+Just before dinner, Count Ilya Rostov presented his son to Bagration,
+who recognized him and said a few words to him, disjointed and awkward,
+as were all the words he spoke that day, and Count Ilya looked joyfully
+and proudly around while Bagration spoke to his son.
+
+Nicholas Rostov, with Denisov and his new acquaintance, Dolokhov, sat
+almost at the middle of the table. Facing them sat Pierre, beside Prince
+Nesvitski. Count Ilya Rostov with the other members of the committee sat
+facing Bagration and, as the very personification of Moscow hospitality,
+did the honors to the prince.
+
+His efforts had not been in vain. The dinner, both the Lenten and the
+other fare, was splendid, yet he could not feel quite at ease till the
+end of the meal. He winked at the butler, whispered directions to the
+footmen, and awaited each expected dish with some anxiety. Everything
+was excellent. With the second course, a gigantic sterlet (at sight of
+which Ilya Rostov blushed with self-conscious pleasure), the footmen
+began popping corks and filling the champagne glasses. After the fish,
+which made a certain sensation, the count exchanged glances with the
+other committeemen. "There will be many toasts, it's time to begin," he
+whispered, and taking up his glass, he rose. All were silent, waiting
+for what he would say.
+
+"To the health of our Sovereign, the Emperor!" he cried, and at the same
+moment his kindly eyes grew moist with tears of joy and enthusiasm. The
+band immediately struck up "Conquest's joyful thunder waken..." All rose
+and cried "Hurrah!" Bagration also rose and shouted "Hurrah!" in exactly
+the same voice in which he had shouted it on the field at Schon Grabern.
+Young Rostov's ecstatic voice could be heard above the three hundred
+others. He nearly wept. "To the health of our Sovereign, the Emperor!"
+he roared, "Hurrah!" and emptying his glass at one gulp he dashed it to
+the floor. Many followed his example, and the loud shouting continued
+for a long time. When the voices subsided, the footmen cleared away the
+broken glass and everybody sat down again, smiling at the noise they had
+made and exchanging remarks. The old count rose once more, glanced at a
+note lying beside his plate, and proposed a toast, "To the health of the
+hero of our last campaign, Prince Peter Ivanovich Bagration!" and again
+his blue eyes grew moist. "Hurrah!" cried the three hundred voices
+again, but instead of the band a choir began singing a cantata composed
+by Paul Ivanovich Kutuzov:
+
+
+Russians! O'er all barriers on! Courage conquest guarantees; Have we not
+Bagration? He brings foe men to their knees,... etc.
+
+As soon as the singing was over, another and another toast was proposed
+and Count Ilya Rostov became more and more moved, more glass was
+smashed, and the shouting grew louder. They drank to Bekleshev,
+Naryshkin, Uvarov, Dolgorukov, Apraksin, Valuev, to the committee, to
+all the club members and to all the club guests, and finally to Count
+Ilya Rostov separately, as the organizer of the banquet. At that toast,
+the count took out his handkerchief and, covering his face, wept
+outright.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+Pierre sat opposite Dolokhov and Nicholas Rostov. As usual, he ate and
+drank much, and eagerly. But those who knew him intimately noticed that
+some great change had come over him that day. He was silent all through
+dinner and looked about, blinking and scowling, or, with fixed eyes and
+a look of complete absent-mindedness, kept rubbing the bridge of his
+nose. His face was depressed and gloomy. He seemed to see and hear
+nothing of what was going on around him and to be absorbed by some
+depressing and unsolved problem.
+
+The unsolved problem that tormented him was caused by hints given by the
+princess, his cousin, at Moscow, concerning Dolokhov's intimacy with his
+wife, and by an anonymous letter he had received that morning, which in
+the mean jocular way common to anonymous letters said that he saw badly
+through his spectacles, but that his wife's connection with Dolokhov was
+a secret to no one but himself. Pierre absolutely disbelieved both the
+princess' hints and the letter, but he feared now to look at Dolokhov,
+who was sitting opposite him. Every time he chanced to meet Dolokhov's
+handsome insolent eyes, Pierre felt something terrible and monstrous
+rising in his soul and turned quickly away. Involuntarily recalling his
+wife's past and her relations with Dolokhov, Pierre saw clearly that
+what was said in the letter might be true, or might at least seem to be
+true had it not referred to his wife. He involuntarily remembered how
+Dolokhov, who had fully recovered his former position after the
+campaign, had returned to Petersburg and come to him. Availing himself
+of his friendly relations with Pierre as a boon companion, Dolokhov had
+come straight to his house, and Pierre had put him up and lent him
+money. Pierre recalled how Helene had smilingly expressed disapproval of
+Dolokhov's living at their house, and how cynically Dolokhov had praised
+his wife's beauty to him and from that time till they came to Moscow had
+not left them for a day.
+
+"Yes, he is very handsome," thought Pierre, "and I know him. It would be
+particularly pleasant to him to dishonor my name and ridicule me, just
+because I have exerted myself on his behalf, befriended him, and helped
+him. I know and understand what a spice that would add to the pleasure
+of deceiving me, if it really were true. Yes, if it were true, but I do
+not believe it. I have no right to, and can't, believe it." He
+remembered the expression Dolokhov's face assumed in his moments of
+cruelty, as when tying the policeman to the bear and dropping them into
+the water, or when he challenged a man to a duel without any reason, or
+shot a post-boy's horse with a pistol. That expression was often on
+Dolokhov's face when looking at him. "Yes, he is a bully," thought
+Pierre, "to kill a man means nothing to him. It must seem to him that
+everyone is afraid of him, and that must please him. He must think that
+I, too, am afraid of him--and in fact I am afraid of him," he thought,
+and again he felt something terrible and monstrous rising in his soul.
+Dolokhov, Denisov, and Rostov were now sitting opposite Pierre and
+seemed very gay. Rostov was talking merrily to his two friends, one of
+whom was a dashing hussar and the other a notorious duelist and rake,
+and every now and then he glanced ironically at Pierre, whose
+preoccupied, absent-minded, and massive figure was a very noticeable one
+at the dinner. Rostov looked inimically at Pierre, first because Pierre
+appeared to his hussar eyes as a rich civilian, the husband of a beauty,
+and in a word--an old woman; and secondly because Pierre in his
+preoccupation and absent-mindedness had not recognized Rostov and had
+not responded to his greeting. When the Emperor's health was drunk,
+Pierre, lost in thought, did not rise or lift his glass.
+
+"What are you about?" shouted Rostov, looking at him in an ecstasy of
+exasperation. "Don't you hear it's His Majesty the Emperor's health?"
+
+Pierre sighed, rose submissively, emptied his glass, and, waiting till
+all were seated again, turned with his kindly smile to Rostov.
+
+"Why, I didn't recognize you!" he said. But Rostov was otherwise
+engaged; he was shouting "Hurrah!"
+
+"Why don't you renew the acquaintance?" said Dolokhov to Rostov.
+
+"Confound him, he's a fool!" said Rostov.
+
+"One should make up to the husbands of pretty women," said Denisov.
+
+Pierre did not catch what they were saying, but knew they were talking
+about him. He reddened and turned away.
+
+"Well, now to the health of handsome women!" said Dolokhov, and with a
+serious expression, but with a smile lurking at the corners of his
+mouth, he turned with his glass to Pierre.
+
+"Here's to the health of lovely women, Peterkin--and their lovers!" he
+added.
+
+Pierre, with downcast eyes, drank out of his glass without looking at
+Dolokhov or answering him. The footman, who was distributing leaflets
+with Kutuzov's cantata, laid one before Pierre as one of the principal
+guests. He was just going to take it when Dolokhov, leaning across,
+snatched it from his hand and began reading it. Pierre looked at
+Dolokhov and his eyes dropped, the something terrible and monstrous that
+had tormented him all dinnertime rose and took possession of him. He
+leaned his whole massive body across the table.
+
+"How dare you take it?" he shouted.
+
+Hearing that cry and seeing to whom it was addressed, Nesvitski and the
+neighbor on his right quickly turned in alarm to Bezukhov.
+
+"Don't! Don't! What are you about?" whispered their frightened voices.
+
+Dolokhov looked at Pierre with clear, mirthful, cruel eyes, and that
+smile of his which seemed to say, "Ah! This is what I like!"
+
+"You shan't have it!" he said distinctly.
+
+Pale, with quivering lips, Pierre snatched the copy.
+
+"You...! you... scoundrel! I challenge you!" he ejaculated, and, pushing
+back his chair, he rose from the table.
+
+At the very instant he did this and uttered those words, Pierre felt
+that the question of his wife's guilt which had been tormenting him the
+whole day was finally and indubitably answered in the affirmative. He
+hated her and was forever sundered from her. Despite Denisov's request
+that he would take no part in the matter, Rostov agreed to be Dolokhov's
+second, and after dinner he discussed the arrangements for the duel with
+Nesvitski, Bezukhov's second. Pierre went home, but Rostov with Dolokhov
+and Denisov stayed on at the club till late, listening to the gypsies
+and other singers.
+
+"Well then, till tomorrow at Sokolniki," said Dolokhov, as he took leave
+of Rostov in the club porch.
+
+"And do you feel quite calm?" Rostov asked.
+
+Dolokhov paused.
+
+"Well, you see, I'll tell you the whole secret of dueling in two words.
+If you are going to fight a duel, and you make a will and write
+affectionate letters to your parents, and if you think you may be
+killed, you are a fool and are lost for certain. But go with the firm
+intention of killing your man as quickly and surely as possible, and
+then all will be right, as our bear huntsman at Kostroma used to tell
+me. 'Everyone fears a bear,' he says, 'but when you see one your fear's
+all gone, and your only thought is not to let him get away!' And that's
+how it is with me. A demain, mon cher." *
+
+
+* Till tomorrow, my dear fellow.
+
+Next day, at eight in the morning, Pierre and Nesvitski drove to the
+Sokolniki forest and found Dolokhov, Denisov, and Rostov already there.
+Pierre had the air of a man preoccupied with considerations which had no
+connection with the matter in hand. His haggard face was yellow. He had
+evidently not slept that night. He looked about distractedly and screwed
+up his eyes as if dazzled by the sun. He was entirely absorbed by two
+considerations: his wife's guilt, of which after his sleepless night he
+had not the slightest doubt, and the guiltlessness of Dolokhov, who had
+no reason to preserve the honor of a man who was nothing to him.... "I
+should perhaps have done the same thing in his place," thought Pierre.
+"It's even certain that I should have done the same, then why this duel,
+this murder? Either I shall kill him, or he will hit me in the head, or
+elbow, or knee. Can't I go away from here, run away, bury myself
+somewhere?" passed through his mind. But just at moments when such
+thoughts occurred to him, he would ask in a particularly calm and
+absent-minded way, which inspired the respect of the onlookers, "Will it
+be long? Are things ready?"
+
+When all was ready, the sabers stuck in the snow to mark the barriers,
+and the pistols loaded, Nesvitski went up to Pierre.
+
+"I should not be doing my duty, Count," he said in timid tones, "and
+should not justify your confidence and the honor you have done me in
+choosing me for your second, if at this grave, this very grave, moment I
+did not tell you the whole truth. I think there is no sufficient ground
+for this affair, or for blood to be shed over it.... You were not right,
+not quite in the right, you were impetuous..."
+
+"Oh yes, it is horribly stupid," said Pierre.
+
+"Then allow me to express your regrets, and I am sure your opponent will
+accept them," said Nesvitski (who like the others concerned in the
+affair, and like everyone in similar cases, did not yet believe that the
+affair had come to an actual duel). "You know, Count, it is much more
+honorable to admit one's mistake than to let matters become irreparable.
+There was no insult on either side. Allow me to convey...."
+
+"No! What is there to talk about?" said Pierre. "It's all the same....
+Is everything ready?" he added. "Only tell me where to go and where to
+shoot," he said with an unnaturally gentle smile.
+
+He took the pistol in his hand and began asking about the working of the
+trigger, as he had not before held a pistol in his hand--a fact that he
+did not wish to confess.
+
+"Oh yes, like that, I know, I only forgot," said he.
+
+"No apologies, none whatever," said Dolokhov to Denisov (who on his side
+had been attempting a reconciliation), and he also went up to the
+appointed place.
+
+The spot chosen for the duel was some eighty paces from the road, where
+the sleighs had been left, in a small clearing in the pine forest
+covered with melting snow, the frost having begun to break up during the
+last few days. The antagonists stood forty paces apart at the farther
+edge of the clearing. The seconds, measuring the paces, left tracks in
+the deep wet snow between the place where they had been standing and
+Nesvitski's and Dolokhov's sabers, which were stuck into the ground ten
+paces apart to mark the barrier. It was thawing and misty; at forty
+paces' distance nothing could be seen. For three minutes all had been
+ready, but they still delayed and all were silent.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+"Well begin!" said Dolokhov.
+
+"All right," said Pierre, still smiling in the same way. A feeling of
+dread was in the air. It was evident that the affair so lightly begun
+could no longer be averted but was taking its course independently of
+men's will.
+
+Denisov first went to the barrier and announced: "As the adve'sawies
+have wefused a weconciliation, please pwoceed. Take your pistols, and at
+the word thwee begin to advance.
+
+"O-ne! T-wo! Thwee!" he shouted angrily and stepped aside.
+
+The combatants advanced along the trodden tracks, nearer and nearer to
+one another, beginning to see one another through the mist. They had the
+right to fire when they liked as they approached the barrier. Dolokhov
+walked slowly without raising his pistol, looking intently with his
+bright, sparkling blue eyes into his antagonist's face. His mouth wore
+its usual semblance of a smile.
+
+"So I can fire when I like!" said Pierre, and at the word "three," he
+went quickly forward, missing the trodden path and stepping into the
+deep snow. He held the pistol in his right hand at arm's length,
+apparently afraid of shooting himself with it. His left hand he held
+carefully back, because he wished to support his right hand with it and
+knew he must not do so. Having advanced six paces and strayed off the
+track into the snow, Pierre looked down at his feet, then quickly
+glanced at Dolokhov and, bending his finger as he had been shown, fired.
+Not at all expecting so loud a report, Pierre shuddered at the sound and
+then, smiling at his own sensations, stood still. The smoke, rendered
+denser by the mist, prevented him from seeing anything for an instant,
+but there was no second report as he had expected. He only heard
+Dolokhov's hurried steps, and his figure came in view through the smoke.
+He was pressing one hand to his left side, while the other clutched his
+drooping pistol. His face was pale. Rostov ran toward him and said
+something.
+
+"No-o-o!" muttered Dolokhov through his teeth, "no, it's not over." And
+after stumbling a few staggering steps right up to the saber, he sank on
+the snow beside it. His left hand was bloody; he wiped it on his coat
+and supported himself with it. His frowning face was pallid and
+quivered.
+
+"Plea..." began Dolokhov, but could not at first pronounce the word.
+
+"Please," he uttered with an effort.
+
+Pierre, hardly restraining his sobs, began running toward Dolokhov and
+was about to cross the space between the barriers, when Dolokhov cried:
+
+"To your barrier!" and Pierre, grasping what was meant, stopped by his
+saber. Only ten paces divided them. Dolokhov lowered his head to the
+snow, greedily bit at it, again raised his head, adjusted himself, drew
+in his legs and sat up, seeking a firm center of gravity. He sucked and
+swallowed the cold snow, his lips quivered but his eyes, still smiling,
+glittered with effort and exasperation as he mustered his remaining
+strength. He raised his pistol and aimed.
+
+"Sideways! Cover yourself with your pistol!" ejaculated Nesvitski.
+
+"Cover yourself!" even Denisov cried to his adversary.
+
+Pierre, with a gentle smile of pity and remorse, his arms and legs
+helplessly spread out, stood with his broad chest directly facing
+Dolokhov looked sorrowfully at him. Denisov, Rostov, and Nesvitski
+closed their eyes. At the same instant they heard a report and
+Dolokhov's angry cry.
+
+"Missed!" shouted Dolokhov, and he lay helplessly, face downwards on the
+snow.
+
+Pierre clutched his temples, and turning round went into the forest,
+trampling through the deep snow, and muttering incoherent words:
+
+"Folly... folly! Death... lies..." he repeated, puckering his face.
+
+Nesvitski stopped him and took him home.
+
+Rostov and Denisov drove away with the wounded Dolokhov.
+
+The latter lay silent in the sleigh with closed eyes and did not answer
+a word to the questions addressed to him. But on entering Moscow he
+suddenly came to and, lifting his head with an effort, took Rostov, who
+was sitting beside him, by the hand. Rostov was struck by the totally
+altered and unexpectedly rapturous and tender expression on Dolokhov's
+face.
+
+"Well? How do you feel?" he asked.
+
+"Bad! But it's not that, my friend-" said Dolokhov with a gasping voice.
+"Where are we? In Moscow, I know. I don't matter, but I have killed her,
+killed... She won't get over it! She won't survive...."
+
+"Who?" asked Rostov.
+
+"My mother! My mother, my angel, my adored angel mother," and Dolokhov
+pressed Rostov's hand and burst into tears.
+
+When he had become a little quieter, he explained to Rostov that he was
+living with his mother, who, if she saw him dying, would not survive it.
+He implored Rostov to go on and prepare her.
+
+Rostov went on ahead to do what was asked, and to his great surprise
+learned that Dolokhov the brawler, Dolokhov the bully, lived in Moscow
+with an old mother and a hunchback sister, and was the most affectionate
+of sons and brothers.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+Pierre had of late rarely seen his wife alone. Both in Petersburg and in
+Moscow their house was always full of visitors. The night after the duel
+he did not go to his bedroom but, as he often did, remained in his
+father's room, that huge room in which Count Bezukhov had died.
+
+He lay down on the sofa meaning to fall asleep and forget all that had
+happened to him, but could not do so. Such a storm of feelings,
+thoughts, and memories suddenly arose within him that he could not fall
+asleep, nor even remain in one place, but had to jump up and pace the
+room with rapid steps. Now he seemed to see her in the early days of
+their marriage, with bare shoulders and a languid, passionate look on
+her face, and then immediately he saw beside her Dolokhov's handsome,
+insolent, hard, and mocking face as he had seen it at the banquet, and
+then that same face pale, quivering, and suffering, as it had been when
+he reeled and sank on the snow.
+
+"What has happened?" he asked himself. "I have killed her lover, yes,
+killed my wife's lover. Yes, that was it! And why? How did I come to do
+it?"--"Because you married her," answered an inner voice.
+
+"But in what was I to blame?" he asked. "In marrying her without loving
+her; in deceiving yourself and her." And he vividly recalled that moment
+after supper at Prince Vasili's, when he spoke those words he had found
+so difficult to utter: "I love you." "It all comes from that! Even then
+I felt it," he thought. "I felt then that it was not so, that I had no
+right to do it. And so it turns out."
+
+He remembered his honeymoon and blushed at the recollection.
+Particularly vivid, humiliating, and shameful was the recollection of
+how one day soon after his marriage he came out of the bedroom into his
+study a little before noon in his silk dressing gown and found his head
+steward there, who, bowing respectfully, looked into his face and at his
+dressing gown and smiled slightly, as if expressing respectful
+understanding of his employer's happiness.
+
+"But how often I have felt proud of her, proud of her majestic beauty
+and social tact," thought he; "been proud of my house, in which she
+received all Petersburg, proud of her unapproachability and beauty. So
+this is what I was proud of! I then thought that I did not understand
+her. How often when considering her character I have told myself that I
+was to blame for not understanding her, for not understanding that
+constant composure and complacency and lack of all interests or desires,
+and the whole secret lies in the terrible truth that she is a depraved
+woman. Now I have spoken that terrible word to myself all has become
+clear.
+
+"Anatole used to come to borrow money from her and used to kiss her
+naked shoulders. She did not give him the money, but let herself be
+kissed. Her father in jest tried to rouse her jealousy, and she replied
+with a calm smile that she was not so stupid as to be jealous: 'Let him
+do what he pleases,' she used to say of me. One day I asked her if she
+felt any symptoms of pregnancy. She laughed contemptuously and said she
+was not a fool to want to have children, and that she was not going to
+have any children by me."
+
+Then he recalled the coarseness and bluntness of her thoughts and the
+vulgarity of the expressions that were natural to her, though she had
+been brought up in the most aristocratic circles.
+
+"I'm not such a fool.... Just you try it on.... Allez-vous promener," *
+she used to say. Often seeing the success she had with young and old men
+and women Pierre could not understand why he did not love her.
+
+
+* "You clear out of this."
+
+"Yes, I never loved her," said he to himself; "I knew she was a depraved
+woman," he repeated, "but dared not admit it to myself. And now there's
+Dolokhov sitting in the snow with a forced smile and perhaps dying,
+while meeting my remorse with some forced bravado!"
+
+Pierre was one of those people who, in spite of an appearance of what is
+called weak character, do not seek a confidant in their troubles. He
+digested his sufferings alone.
+
+"It is all, all her fault," he said to himself; "but what of that? Why
+did I bind myself to her? Why did I say 'Je vous aime' * to her, which
+was a lie, and worse than a lie? I am guilty and must endure... what? A
+slur on my name? A misfortune for life? Oh, that's nonsense," he
+thought. "The slur on my name and honor--that's all apart from myself."
+
+
+* I love you.
+
+"Louis XVI was executed because they said he was dishonorable and a
+criminal," came into Pierre's head, "and from their point of view they
+were right, as were those too who canonized him and died a martyr's
+death for his sake. Then Robespierre was beheaded for being a despot.
+Who is right and who is wrong? No one! But if you are alive--live:
+tomorrow you'll die as I might have died an hour ago. And is it worth
+tormenting oneself, when one has only a moment of life in comparison
+with eternity?"
+
+But at the moment when he imagined himself calmed by such reflections,
+she suddenly came into his mind as she was at the moments when he had
+most strongly expressed his insincere love for her, and he felt the
+blood rush to his heart and had again to get up and move about and break
+and tear whatever came to his hand. "Why did I tell her that 'Je vous
+aime'?" he kept repeating to himself. And when he had said it for the
+tenth time, Moliere's words: "Mais que diable allait-il faire dans cette
+galere?"* occurred to him, and he began to laugh at himself.
+
+
+* "But what the devil was he doing in that galley?"
+
+In the night he called his valet and told him to pack up to go to
+Petersburg. He could not imagine how he could speak to her now. He
+resolved to go away next day and leave a letter informing her of his
+intention to part from her forever.
+
+Next morning when the valet came into the room with his coffee, Pierre
+was lying asleep on the ottoman with an open book in his hand.
+
+He woke up and looked round for a while with a startled expression,
+unable to realize where he was.
+
+"The countess told me to inquire whether your excellency was at home,"
+said the valet.
+
+But before Pierre could decide what answer he would send, the countess
+herself in a white satin dressing gown embroidered with silver and with
+simply dressed hair (two immense plaits twice round her lovely head like
+a coronet) entered the room, calm and majestic, except that there was a
+wrathful wrinkle on her rather prominent marble brow. With her
+imperturbable calm she did not begin to speak in front of the valet. She
+knew of the duel and had come to speak about it. She waited till the
+valet had set down the coffee things and left the room. Pierre looked at
+her timidly over his spectacles, and like a hare surrounded by hounds
+who lays back her ears and continues to crouch motionless before her
+enemies, he tried to continue reading. But feeling this to be senseless
+and impossible, he again glanced timidly at her. She did not sit down
+but looked at him with a contemptuous smile, waiting for the valet to
+go.
+
+"Well, what's this now? What have you been up to now, I should like to
+know?" she asked sternly.
+
+"I? What have I...?" stammered Pierre.
+
+"So it seems you're a hero, eh? Come now, what was this duel about? What
+is it meant to prove? What? I ask you."
+
+Pierre turned over heavily on the ottoman and opened his mouth, but
+could not reply.
+
+"If you won't answer, I'll tell you..." Helene went on. "You believe
+everything you're told. You were told..." Helene laughed, "that Dolokhov
+was my lover," she said in French with her coarse plainness of speech,
+uttering the word amant as casually as any other word, "and you believed
+it! Well, what have you proved? What does this duel prove? That you're a
+fool, que vous etes un sot, but everybody knew that. What will be the
+result? That I shall be the laughingstock of all Moscow, that everyone
+will say that you, drunk and not knowing what you were about, challenged
+a man you are jealous of without cause." Helene raised her voice and
+became more and more excited, "A man who's a better man than you in
+every way..."
+
+"Hm... Hm...!" growled Pierre, frowning without looking at her, and not
+moving a muscle.
+
+"And how could you believe he was my lover? Why? Because I like his
+company? If you were cleverer and more agreeable, I should prefer
+yours."
+
+"Don't speak to me... I beg you," muttered Pierre hoarsely.
+
+"Why shouldn't I speak? I can speak as I like, and I tell you plainly
+that there are not many wives with husbands such as you who would not
+have taken lovers (des amants), but I have not done so," said she.
+
+Pierre wished to say something, looked at her with eyes whose strange
+expression she did not understand, and lay down again. He was suffering
+physically at that moment, there was a weight on his chest and he could
+not breathe. He knew that he must do something to put an end to this
+suffering, but what he wanted to do was too terrible.
+
+"We had better separate," he muttered in a broken voice.
+
+"Separate? Very well, but only if you give me a fortune," said Helene.
+"Separate! That's a thing to frighten me with!"
+
+Pierre leaped up from the sofa and rushed staggering toward her.
+
+"I'll kill you!" he shouted, and seizing the marble top of a table with
+a strength he had never before felt, he made a step toward her
+brandishing the slab.
+
+Helene's face became terrible, she shrieked and sprang aside. His
+father's nature showed itself in Pierre. He felt the fascination and
+delight of frenzy. He flung down the slab, broke it, and swooping down
+on her with outstretched hands shouted, "Get out!" in such a terrible
+voice that the whole house heard it with horror. God knows what he would
+have done at that moment had Helene not fled from the room.
+
+A week later Pierre gave his wife full power to control all his estates
+in Great Russia, which formed the larger part of his property, and left
+for Petersburg alone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+Two months had elapsed since the news of the battle of Austerlitz and
+the loss of Prince Andrew had reached Bald Hills, and in spite of the
+letters sent through the embassy and all the searches made, his body had
+not been found nor was he on the list of prisoners. What was worst of
+all for his relations was the fact that there was still a possibility of
+his having been picked up on the battlefield by the people of the place
+and that he might now be lying, recovering or dying, alone among
+strangers and unable to send news of himself. The gazettes from which
+the old prince first heard of the defeat at Austerlitz stated, as usual
+very briefly and vaguely, that after brilliant engagements the Russians
+had had to retreat and had made their withdrawal in perfect order. The
+old prince understood from this official report that our army had been
+defeated. A week after the gazette report of the battle of Austerlitz
+came a letter from Kutuzov informing the prince of the fate that had
+befallen his son.
+
+"Your son," wrote Kutuzov, "fell before my eyes, a standard in his hand
+and at the head of a regiment--he fell as a hero, worthy of his father
+and his fatherland. To the great regret of myself and of the whole army
+it is still uncertain whether he is alive or not. I comfort myself and
+you with the hope that your son is alive, for otherwise he would have
+been mentioned among the officers found on the field of battle, a list
+of whom has been sent me under flag of truce."
+
+After receiving this news late in the evening, when he was alone in his
+study, the old prince went for his walk as usual next morning, but he
+was silent with his steward, the gardener, and the architect, and though
+he looked very grim he said nothing to anyone.
+
+When Princess Mary went to him at the usual hour he was working at his
+lathe and, as usual, did not look round at her.
+
+"Ah, Princess Mary!" he said suddenly in an unnatural voice, throwing
+down his chisel. (The wheel continued to revolve by its own impetus, and
+Princess Mary long remembered the dying creak of that wheel, which
+merged in her memory with what followed.)
+
+She approached him, saw his face, and something gave way within her. Her
+eyes grew dim. By the expression of her father's face, not sad, not
+crushed, but angry and working unnaturally, she saw that hanging over
+her and about to crush her was some terrible misfortune, the worst in
+life, one she had not yet experienced, irreparable and incomprehensible-
+-the death of one she loved.
+
+"Father! Andrew!"--said the ungraceful, awkward princess with such an
+indescribable charm of sorrow and self-forgetfulness that her father
+could not bear her look but turned away with a sob.
+
+"Bad news! He's not among the prisoners nor among the killed! Kutuzov
+writes..." and he screamed as piercingly as if he wished to drive the
+princess away by that scream... "Killed!"
+
+The princess did not fall down or faint. She was already pale, but on
+hearing these words her face changed and something brightened in her
+beautiful, radiant eyes. It was as if joy--a supreme joy apart from the
+joys and sorrows of this world--overflowed the great grief within her.
+She forgot all fear of her father, went up to him, took his hand, and
+drawing him down put her arm round his thin, scraggy neck.
+
+"Father," she said, "do not turn away from me, let us weep together."
+
+"Scoundrels! Blackguards!" shrieked the old man, turning his face away
+from her. "Destroying the army, destroying the men! And why? Go, go and
+tell Lise."
+
+The princess sank helplessly into an armchair beside her father and
+wept. She saw her brother now as he had been at the moment when he took
+leave of her and of Lise, his look tender yet proud. She saw him tender
+and amused as he was when he put on the little icon. "Did he believe?
+Had he repented of his unbelief? Was he now there? There in the realms
+of eternal peace and blessedness?" she thought.
+
+"Father, tell me how it happened," she asked through her tears.
+
+"Go! Go! Killed in battle, where the best of Russian men and Russia's
+glory were led to destruction. Go, Princess Mary. Go and tell Lise. I
+will follow."
+
+When Princess Mary returned from her father, the little princess sat
+working and looked up with that curious expression of inner, happy calm
+peculiar to pregnant women. It was evident that her eyes did not see
+Princess Mary but were looking within... into herself... at something
+joyful and mysterious taking place within her.
+
+"Mary," she said, moving away from the embroidery frame and lying back,
+"give me your hand." She took her sister-in-law's hand and held it below
+her waist.
+
+Her eyes were smiling expectantly, her downy lip rose and remained
+lifted in childlike happiness.
+
+Princess Mary knelt down before her and hid her face in the folds of her
+sister-in-law's dress.
+
+"There, there! Do you feel it? I feel so strange. And do you know, Mary,
+I am going to love him very much," said Lise, looking with bright and
+happy eyes at her sister-in-law.
+
+Princess Mary could not lift her head, she was weeping.
+
+"What is the matter, Mary?"
+
+"Nothing... only I feel sad... sad about Andrew," she said, wiping away
+her tears on her sister-in-law's knee.
+
+Several times in the course of the morning Princess Mary began trying to
+prepare her sister-in-law, and every time began to cry. Unobservant as
+was the little princess, these tears, the cause of which she did not
+understand, agitated her. She said nothing but looked about uneasily as
+if in search of something. Before dinner the old prince, of whom she was
+always afraid, came into her room with a peculiarly restless and malign
+expression and went out again without saying a word. She looked at
+Princess Mary, then sat thinking for a while with that expression of
+attention to something within her that is only seen in pregnant women,
+and suddenly began to cry.
+
+"Has anything come from Andrew?" she asked.
+
+"No, you know it's too soon for news. But my father is anxious and I
+feel afraid."
+
+"So there's nothing?"
+
+"Nothing," answered Princess Mary, looking firmly with her radiant eyes
+at her sister-in-law.
+
+She had determined not to tell her and persuaded her father to hide the
+terrible news from her till after her confinement, which was expected
+within a few days. Princess Mary and the old prince each bore and hid
+their grief in their own way. The old prince would not cherish any hope:
+he made up his mind that Prince Andrew had been killed, and though he
+sent an official to Austria to seek for traces of his son, he ordered a
+monument from Moscow which he intended to erect in his own garden to his
+memory, and he told everybody that his son had been killed. He tried not
+to change his former way of life, but his strength failed him. He walked
+less, ate less, slept less, and became weaker every day. Princess Mary
+hoped. She prayed for her brother as living and was always awaiting news
+of his return.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+"Dearest," said the little princess after breakfast on the morning of
+the nineteenth March, and her downy little lip rose from old habit, but
+as sorrow was manifest in every smile, the sound of every word, and even
+every footstep in that house since the terrible news had come, so now
+the smile of the little princess--influenced by the general mood though
+without knowing its cause--was such as to remind one still more of the
+general sorrow.
+
+"Dearest, I'm afraid this morning's fruschtique *--as Foka the cook
+calls it--has disagreed with me."
+
+
+* Fruhstuck: breakfast.
+
+"What is the matter with you, my darling? You look pale. Oh, you are
+very pale!" said Princess Mary in alarm, running with her soft,
+ponderous steps up to her sister-in-law.
+
+"Your excellency, should not Mary Bogdanovna be sent for?" said one of
+the maids who was present. (Mary Bogdanovna was a midwife from the
+neighboring town, who had been at Bald Hills for the last fortnight.)
+
+"Oh yes," assented Princess Mary, "perhaps that's it. I'll go. Courage,
+my angel." She kissed Lise and was about to leave the room.
+
+"Oh, no, no!" And besides the pallor and the physical suffering on the
+little princess' face, an expression of childish fear of inevitable pain
+showed itself.
+
+"No, it's only indigestion?... Say it's only indigestion, say so, Mary!
+Say..." And the little princess began to cry capriciously like a
+suffering child and to wring her little hands even with some
+affectation. Princess Mary ran out of the room to fetch Mary Bogdanovna.
+
+"Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! Oh!" she heard as she left the room.
+
+The midwife was already on her way to meet her, rubbing her small, plump
+white hands with an air of calm importance.
+
+"Mary Bogdanovna, I think it's beginning!" said Princess Mary looking at
+the midwife with wide-open eyes of alarm.
+
+"Well, the Lord be thanked, Princess," said Mary Bogdanovna, not
+hastening her steps. "You young ladies should not know anything about
+it."
+
+"But how is it the doctor from Moscow is not here yet?" said the
+princess. (In accordance with Lise's and Prince Andrew's wishes they had
+sent in good time to Moscow for a doctor and were expecting him at any
+moment.)
+
+"No matter, Princess, don't be alarmed," said Mary Bogdanovna. "We'll
+manage very well without a doctor."
+
+Five minutes later Princess Mary from her room heard something heavy
+being carried by. She looked out. The men servants were carrying the
+large leather sofa from Prince Andrew's study into the bedroom. On their
+faces was a quiet and solemn look.
+
+Princess Mary sat alone in her room listening to the sounds in the
+house, now and then opening her door when someone passed and watching
+what was going on in the passage. Some women passing with quiet steps in
+and out of the bedroom glanced at the princess and turned away. She did
+not venture to ask any questions, and shut the door again, now sitting
+down in her easy chair, now taking her prayer book, now kneeling before
+the icon stand. To her surprise and distress she found that her prayers
+did not calm her excitement. Suddenly her door opened softly and her old
+nurse, Praskovya Savishna, who hardly ever came to that room as the old
+prince had forbidden it, appeared on the threshold with a shawl round
+her head.
+
+"I've come to sit with you a bit, Masha," said the nurse, "and here I've
+brought the prince's wedding candles to light before his saint, my
+angel," she said with a sigh.
+
+"Oh, nurse, I'm so glad!"
+
+"God is merciful, birdie."
+
+The nurse lit the gilt candles before the icons and sat down by the door
+with her knitting. Princess Mary took a book and began reading. Only
+when footsteps or voices were heard did they look at one another, the
+princess anxious and inquiring, the nurse encouraging. Everyone in the
+house was dominated by the same feeling that Princess Mary experienced
+as she sat in her room. But owing to the superstition that the fewer the
+people who know of it the less a woman in travail suffers, everyone
+tried to pretend not to know; no one spoke of it, but apart from the
+ordinary staid and respectful good manners habitual in the prince's
+household, a common anxiety, a softening of the heart, and a
+consciousness that something great and mysterious was being accomplished
+at that moment made itself felt.
+
+There was no laughter in the maids' large hall. In the men servants'
+hall all sat waiting, silently and alert. In the outlying serfs'
+quarters torches and candles were burning and no one slept. The old
+prince, stepping on his heels, paced up and down his study and sent
+Tikhon to ask Mary Bogdanovna what news.--"Say only that 'the prince
+told me to ask,' and come and tell me her answer."
+
+"Inform the prince that labor has begun," said Mary Bogdanovna, giving
+the messenger a significant look.
+
+Tikhon went and told the prince.
+
+"Very good!" said the prince closing the door behind him, and Tikhon did
+not hear the slightest sound from the study after that.
+
+After a while he re-entered it as if to snuff the candles, and, seeing
+the prince was lying on the sofa, looked at him, noticed his perturbed
+face, shook his head, and going up to him silently kissed him on the
+shoulder and left the room without snuffing the candles or saying why he
+had entered. The most solemn mystery in the world continued its course.
+Evening passed, night came, and the feeling of suspense and softening of
+heart in the presence of the unfathomable did not lessen but increased.
+No one slept.
+
+It was one of those March nights when winter seems to wish to resume its
+sway and scatters its last snows and storms with desperate fury. A relay
+of horses had been sent up the highroad to meet the German doctor from
+Moscow who was expected every moment, and men on horseback with lanterns
+were sent to the crossroads to guide him over the country road with its
+hollows and snow-covered pools of water.
+
+Princess Mary had long since put aside her book: she sat silent, her
+luminous eyes fixed on her nurse's wrinkled face (every line of which
+she knew so well), on the lock of gray hair that escaped from under the
+kerchief, and the loose skin that hung under her chin.
+
+Nurse Savishna, knitting in hand, was telling in low tones, scarcely
+hearing or understanding her own words, what she had told hundreds of
+times before: how the late princess had given birth to Princess Mary in
+Kishenev with only a Moldavian peasant woman to help instead of a
+midwife.
+
+"God is merciful, doctors are never needed," she said.
+
+Suddenly a gust of wind beat violently against the casement of the
+window, from which the double frame had been removed (by order of the
+prince, one window frame was removed in each room as soon as the larks
+returned), and, forcing open a loosely closed latch, set the damask
+curtain flapping and blew out the candle with its chill, snowy draft.
+Princess Mary shuddered; her nurse, putting down the stocking she was
+knitting, went to the window and leaning out tried to catch the open
+casement. The cold wind flapped the ends of her kerchief and her loose
+locks of gray hair.
+
+"Princess, my dear, there's someone driving up the avenue!" she said,
+holding the casement and not closing it. "With lanterns. Most likely the
+doctor."
+
+"Oh, my God! thank God!" said Princess Mary. "I must go and meet him, he
+does not know Russian."
+
+Princess Mary threw a shawl over her head and ran to meet the newcomer.
+As she was crossing the anteroom she saw through the window a carriage
+with lanterns, standing at the entrance. She went out on the stairs. On
+a banister post stood a tallow candle which guttered in the draft. On
+the landing below, Philip, the footman, stood looking scared and holding
+another candle. Still lower, beyond the turn of the staircase, one could
+hear the footstep of someone in thick felt boots, and a voice that
+seemed familiar to Princess Mary was saying something.
+
+"Thank God!" said the voice. "And Father?"
+
+"Gone to bed," replied the voice of Demyan the house steward, who was
+downstairs.
+
+Then the voice said something more, Demyan replied, and the steps in the
+felt boots approached the unseen bend of the staircase more rapidly.
+
+"It's Andrew!" thought Princess Mary. "No it can't be, that would be too
+extraordinary," and at the very moment she thought this, the face and
+figure of Prince Andrew, in a fur cloak the deep collar of which covered
+with snow, appeared on the landing where the footman stood with the
+candle. Yes, it was he, pale, thin, with a changed and strangely
+softened but agitated expression on his face. He came up the stairs and
+embraced his sister.
+
+"You did not get my letter?" he asked, and not waiting for a reply--
+which he would not have received, for the princess was unable to speak--
+he turned back, rapidly mounted the stairs again with the doctor who had
+entered the hall after him (they had met at the last post station), and
+again embraced his sister.
+
+"What a strange fate, Masha darling!" And having taken off his cloak and
+felt boots, he went to the little princess' apartment.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+The little princess lay supported by pillows, with a white cap on her
+head (the pains had just left her). Strands of her black hair lay round
+her inflamed and perspiring cheeks, her charming rosy mouth with its
+downy lip was open and she was smiling joyfully. Prince Andrew entered
+and paused facing her at the foot of the sofa on which she was lying.
+Her glittering eyes, filled with childlike fear and excitement, rested
+on him without changing their expression. "I love you all and have done
+no harm to anyone; why must I suffer so? Help me!" her look seemed to
+say. She saw her husband, but did not realize the significance of his
+appearance before her now. Prince Andrew went round the sofa and kissed
+her forehead.
+
+"My darling!" he said--a word he had never used to her before. "God is
+merciful...."
+
+She looked at him inquiringly and with childlike reproach.
+
+"I expected help from you and I get none, none from you either!" said
+her eyes. She was not surprised at his having come; she did not realize
+that he had come. His coming had nothing to do with her sufferings or
+with their relief. The pangs began again and Mary Bogdanovna advised
+Prince Andrew to leave the room.
+
+The doctor entered. Prince Andrew went out and, meeting Princess Mary,
+again joined her. They began talking in whispers, but their talk broke
+off at every moment. They waited and listened.
+
+"Go, dear," said Princess Mary.
+
+Prince Andrew went again to his wife and sat waiting in the room next to
+hers. A woman came from the bedroom with a frightened face and became
+confused when she saw Prince Andrew. He covered his face with his hands
+and remained so for some minutes. Piteous, helpless, animal moans came
+through the door. Prince Andrew got up, went to the door, and tried to
+open it. Someone was holding it shut.
+
+"You can't come in! You can't!" said a terrified voice from within.
+
+He began pacing the room. The screaming ceased, and a few more seconds
+went by. Then suddenly a terrible shriek--it could not be hers, she
+could not scream like that--came from the bedroom. Prince Andrew ran to
+the door; the scream ceased and he heard the wail of an infant.
+
+"What have they taken a baby in there for?" thought Prince Andrew in the
+first second. "A baby? What baby...? Why is there a baby there? Or is
+the baby born?"
+
+Then suddenly he realized the joyful significance of that wail; tears
+choked him, and leaning his elbows on the window sill be began to cry,
+sobbing like a child. The door opened. The doctor with his shirt sleeves
+tucked up, without a coat, pale and with a trembling jaw, came out of
+the room. Prince Andrew turned to him, but the doctor gave him a
+bewildered look and passed by without a word. A woman rushed out and
+seeing Prince Andrew stopped, hesitating on the threshold. He went into
+his wife's room. She was lying dead, in the same position he had seen
+her in five minutes before and, despite the fixed eyes and the pallor of
+the cheeks, the same expression was on her charming childlike face with
+its upper lip covered with tiny black hair.
+
+"I love you all, and have done no harm to anyone; and what have you done
+to me?"--said her charming, pathetic, dead face.
+
+In a corner of the room something red and tiny gave a grunt and squealed
+in Mary Bogdanovna's trembling white hands.
+
+Two hours later Prince Andrew, stepping softly, went into his father's
+room. The old man already knew everything. He was standing close to the
+door and as soon as it opened his rough old arms closed like a vise
+round his son's neck, and without a word he began to sob like a child.
+
+Three days later the little princess was buried, and Prince Andrew went
+up the steps to where the coffin stood, to give her the farewell kiss.
+And there in the coffin was the same face, though with closed eyes. "Ah,
+what have you done to me?" it still seemed to say, and Prince Andrew
+felt that something gave way in his soul and that he was guilty of a sin
+he could neither remedy nor forget. He could not weep. The old man too
+came up and kissed the waxen little hands that lay quietly crossed one
+on the other on her breast, and to him, too, her face seemed to say:
+"Ah, what have you done to me, and why?" And at the sight the old man
+turned angrily away.
+
+Another five days passed, and then the young Prince Nicholas Andreevich
+was baptized. The wet nurse supported the coverlet with her chin, while
+the priest with a goose feather anointed the boy's little red and
+wrinkled soles and palms.
+
+His grandfather, who was his godfather, trembling and afraid of dropping
+him, carried the infant round the battered tin font and handed him over
+to the godmother, Princess Mary. Prince Andrew sat in another room,
+faint with fear lest the baby should be drowned in the font, and awaited
+the termination of the ceremony. He looked up joyfully at the baby when
+the nurse brought it to him and nodded approval when she told him that
+the wax with the baby's hair had not sunk in the font but had floated.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+Rostov's share in Dolokhov's duel with Bezukhov was hushed up by the
+efforts of the old count, and instead of being degraded to the ranks as
+he expected he was appointed an adjutant to the governor general of
+Moscow. As a result he could not go to the country with the rest of the
+family, but was kept all summer in Moscow by his new duties. Dolokhov
+recovered, and Rostov became very friendly with him during his
+convalescence. Dolokhov lay ill at his mother's who loved him
+passionately and tenderly, and old Mary Ivanovna, who had grown fond of
+Rostov for his friendship to her Fedya, often talked to him about her
+son.
+
+"Yes, Count," she would say, "he is too noble and pure-souled for our
+present, depraved world. No one now loves virtue; it seems like a
+reproach to everyone. Now tell me, Count, was it right, was it
+honorable, of Bezukhov? And Fedya, with his noble spirit, loved him and
+even now never says a word against him. Those pranks in Petersburg when
+they played some tricks on a policeman, didn't they do it together? And
+there! Bezukhov got off scotfree, while Fedya had to bear the whole
+burden on his shoulders. Fancy what he had to go through! It's true he
+has been reinstated, but how could they fail to do that? I think there
+were not many such gallant sons of the fatherland out there as he. And
+now--this duel! Have these people no feeling, or honor? Knowing him to
+be an only son, to challenge him and shoot so straight! It's well God
+had mercy on us. And what was it for? Who doesn't have intrigues
+nowadays? Why, if he was so jealous, as I see things he should have
+shown it sooner, but he lets it go on for months. And then to call him
+out, reckoning on Fedya not fighting because he owed him money! What
+baseness! What meanness! I know you understand Fedya, my dear count;
+that, believe me, is why I am so fond of you. Few people do understand
+him. He is such a lofty, heavenly soul!"
+
+Dolokhov himself during his convalescence spoke to Rostov in a way no
+one would have expected of him.
+
+"I know people consider me a bad man!" he said. "Let them! I don't care
+a straw about anyone but those I love; but those I love, I love so that
+I would give my life for them, and the others I'd throttle if they stood
+in my way. I have an adored, a priceless mother, and two or three
+friends--you among them--and as for the rest I only care about them in
+so far as they are harmful or useful. And most of them are harmful,
+especially the women. Yes, dear boy," he continued, "I have met loving,
+noble, high-minded men, but I have not yet met any women--countesses or
+cooks--who were not venal. I have not yet met that divine purity and
+devotion I look for in women. If I found such a one I'd give my life for
+her! But those!..." and he made a gesture of contempt. "And believe me,
+if I still value my life it is only because I still hope to meet such a
+divine creature, who will regenerate, purify, and elevate me. But you
+don't understand it."
+
+"Oh, yes, I quite understand," answered Rostov, who was under his new
+friend's influence.
+
+In the autumn the Rostovs returned to Moscow. Early in the winter
+Denisov also came back and stayed with them. The first half of the
+winter of 1806, which Nicholas Rostov spent in Moscow, was one of the
+happiest, merriest times for him and the whole family. Nicholas brought
+many young men to his parents' house. Vera was a handsome girl of
+twenty; Sonya a girl of sixteen with all the charm of an opening flower;
+Natasha, half grown up and half child, was now childishly amusing, now
+girlishly enchanting.
+
+At that time in the Rostovs' house there prevailed an amorous atmosphere
+characteristic of homes where there are very young and very charming
+girls. Every young man who came to the house--seeing those
+impressionable, smiling young faces (smiling probably at their own
+happiness), feeling the eager bustle around him, and hearing the fitful
+bursts of song and music and the inconsequent but friendly prattle of
+young girls ready for anything and full of hope--experienced the same
+feeling; sharing with the young folk of the Rostovs' household a
+readiness to fall in love and an expectation of happiness.
+
+Among the young men introduced by Rostov one of the first was Dolokhov,
+whom everyone in the house liked except Natasha. She almost quarreled
+with her brother about him. She insisted that he was a bad man, and that
+in the duel with Bezukhov, Pierre was right and Dolokhov wrong, and
+further that he was disagreeable and unnatural.
+
+"There's nothing for me to understand," she cried out with resolute
+self-will, "he is wicked and heartless. There now, I like your Denisov
+though he is a rake and all that, still I like him; so you see I do
+understand. I don't know how to put it... with this one everything is
+calculated, and I don't like that. But Denisov..."
+
+"Oh, Denisov is quite different," replied Nicholas, implying that even
+Denisov was nothing compared to Dolokhov--"you must understand what a
+soul there is in Dolokhov, you should see him with his mother. What a
+heart!"
+
+"Well, I don't know about that, but I am uncomfortable with him. And do
+you know he has fallen in love with Sonya?"
+
+"What nonsense..."
+
+"I'm certain of it; you'll see."
+
+Natasha's prediction proved true. Dolokhov, who did not usually care for
+the society of ladies, began to come often to the house, and the
+question for whose sake he came (though no one spoke of it) was soon
+settled. He came because of Sonya. And Sonya, though she would never
+have dared to say so, knew it and blushed scarlet every time Dolokhov
+appeared.
+
+Dolokhov often dined at the Rostovs', never missed a performance at
+which they were present, and went to Iogel's balls for young people
+which the Rostovs always attended. He was pointedly attentive to Sonya
+and looked at her in such a way that not only could she not bear his
+glances without coloring, but even the old countess and Natasha blushed
+when they saw his looks.
+
+It was evident that this strange, strong man was under the irresistible
+influence of the dark, graceful girl who loved another.
+
+Rostov noticed something new in Dolokhov's relations with Sonya, but he
+did not explain to himself what these new relations were. "They're
+always in love with someone," he thought of Sonya and Natasha. But he
+was not as much at ease with Sonya and Dolokhov as before and was less
+frequently at home.
+
+In the autumn of 1806 everybody had again begun talking of the war with
+Napoleon with even greater warmth than the year before. Orders were
+given to raise recruits, ten men in every thousand for the regular army,
+and besides this, nine men in every thousand for the militia. Everywhere
+Bonaparte was anathematized and in Moscow nothing but the coming war was
+talked of. For the Rostov family the whole interest of these
+preparations for war lay in the fact that Nicholas would not hear of
+remaining in Moscow, and only awaited the termination of Denisov's
+furlough after Christmas to return with him to their regiment. His
+approaching departure did not prevent his amusing himself, but rather
+gave zest to his pleasures. He spent the greater part of his time away
+from home, at dinners, parties, and balls.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+On the third day after Christmas Nicholas dined at home, a thing he had
+rarely done of late. It was a grand farewell dinner, as he and Denisov
+were leaving to join their regiment after Epiphany. About twenty people
+were present, including Dolokhov and Denisov.
+
+Never had love been so much in the air, and never had the amorous
+atmosphere made itself so strongly felt in the Rostovs' house as at this
+holiday time. "Seize the moments of happiness, love and be loved! That
+is the only reality in the world, all else is folly. It is the one thing
+we are interested in here," said the spirit of the place.
+
+Nicholas, having as usual exhausted two pairs of horses, without
+visiting all the places he meant to go to and where he had been invited,
+returned home just before dinner. As soon as he entered he noticed and
+felt the tension of the amorous air in the house, and also noticed a
+curious embarrassment among some of those present. Sonya, Dolokhov, and
+the old countess were especially disturbed, and to a lesser degree
+Natasha. Nicholas understood that something must have happened between
+Sonya and Dolokhov before dinner, and with the kindly sensitiveness
+natural to him was very gentle and wary with them both at dinner. On
+that same evening there was to be one of the balls that Iogel (the
+dancing master) gave for his pupils during the holidays.
+
+"Nicholas, will you come to Iogel's? Please do!" said Natasha. "He asked
+you, and Vasili Dmitrich * is also going."
+
+
+* Denisov.
+
+"Where would I not go at the countess' command!" said Denisov, who at
+the Rostovs' had jocularly assumed the role of Natasha's knight. "I'm
+even weady to dance the pas de chale."
+
+"If I have time," answered Nicholas. "But I promised the Arkharovs; they
+have a party."
+
+"And you?" he asked Dolokhov, but as soon as he had asked the question
+he noticed that it should not have been put.
+
+"Perhaps," coldly and angrily replied Dolokhov, glancing at Sonya, and,
+scowling, he gave Nicholas just such a look as he had given Pierre at
+the club dinner.
+
+"There is something up," thought Nicholas, and he was further confirmed
+in this conclusion by the fact that Dolokhov left immediately after
+dinner. He called Natasha and asked her what was the matter.
+
+"And I was looking for you," said Natasha running out to him. "I told
+you, but you would not believe it," she said triumphantly. "He has
+proposed to Sonya!"
+
+Little as Nicholas had occupied himself with Sonya of late, something
+seemed to give way within him at this news. Dolokhov was a suitable and
+in some respects a brilliant match for the dowerless, orphan girl. From
+the point of view of the old countess and of society it was out of the
+question for her to refuse him. And therefore Nicholas' first feeling on
+hearing the news was one of anger with Sonya.... He tried to say,
+"That's capital; of course she'll forget her childish promises and
+accept the offer," but before he had time to say it Natasha began again.
+
+"And fancy! she refused him quite definitely!" adding, after a pause,
+"she told him she loved another."
+
+"Yes, my Sonya could not have done otherwise!" thought Nicholas.
+
+"Much as Mamma pressed her, she refused, and I know she won't change
+once she has said..."
+
+"And Mamma pressed her!" said Nicholas reproachfully.
+
+"Yes," said Natasha. "Do you know, Nicholas--don't be angry--but I know
+you will not marry her. I know, heaven knows how, but I know for certain
+that you won't marry her."
+
+"Now you don't know that at all!" said Nicholas. "But I must talk to
+her. What a darling Sonya is!" he added with a smile.
+
+"Ah, she is indeed a darling! I'll send her to you."
+
+And Natasha kissed her brother and ran away.
+
+A minute later Sonya came in with a frightened, guilty, and scared look.
+Nicholas went up to her and kissed her hand. This was the first time
+since his return that they had talked alone and about their love.
+
+"Sophie," he began, timidly at first and then more and more boldly, "if
+you wish to refuse one who is not only a brilliant and advantageous
+match but a splendid, noble fellow... he is my friend..."
+
+Sonya interrupted him.
+
+"I have already refused," she said hurriedly.
+
+"If you are refusing for my sake, I am afraid that I..."
+
+Sonya again interrupted. She gave him an imploring, frightened look.
+
+"Nicholas, don't tell me that!" she said.
+
+"No, but I must. It may be arrogant of me, but still it is best to say
+it. If you refuse him on my account, I must tell you the whole truth. I
+love you, and I think I love you more than anyone else...."
+
+"That is enough for me," said Sonya, blushing.
+
+"No, but I have been in love a thousand times and shall fall in love
+again, though for no one have I such a feeling of friendship,
+confidence, and love as I have for you. Then I am young. Mamma does not
+wish it. In a word, I make no promise. And I beg you to consider
+Dolokhov's offer," he said, articulating his friend's name with
+difficulty.
+
+"Don't say that to me! I want nothing. I love you as a brother and
+always shall, and I want nothing more."
+
+"You are an angel: I am not worthy of you, but I am afraid of misleading
+you."
+
+And Nicholas again kissed her hand.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+Iogel's were the most enjoyable balls in Moscow. So said the mothers as
+they watched their young people executing their newly learned steps, and
+so said the youths and maidens themselves as they danced till they were
+ready to drop, and so said the grown-up young men and women who came to
+these balls with an air of condescension and found them most enjoyable.
+That year two marriages had come of these balls. The two pretty young
+Princesses Gorchakov met suitors there and were married and so further
+increased the fame of these dances. What distinguished them from others
+was the absence of host or hostess and the presence of the good-natured
+Iogel, flying about like a feather and bowing according to the rules of
+his art, as he collected the tickets from all his visitors. There was
+the fact that only those came who wished to dance and amuse themselves
+as girls of thirteen and fourteen do who are wearing long dresses for
+the first time. With scarcely any exceptions they all were, or seemed to
+be, pretty--so rapturous were their smiles and so sparkling their eyes.
+Sometimes the best of the pupils, of whom Natasha, who was exceptionally
+graceful, was first, even danced the pas de chale, but at this last ball
+only the ecossaise, the anglaise, and the mazurka, which was just coming
+into fashion, were danced. Iogel had taken a ballroom in Bezukhov's
+house, and the ball, as everyone said, was a great success. There were
+many pretty girls and the Rostov girls were among the prettiest. They
+were both particularly happy and gay. That evening, proud of Dolokhov's
+proposal, her refusal, and her explanation with Nicholas, Sonya twirled
+about before she left home so that the maid could hardly get her hair
+plaited, and she was transparently radiant with impulsive joy.
+
+Natasha no less proud of her first long dress and of being at a real
+ball was even happier. They were both dressed in white muslin with pink
+ribbons.
+
+Natasha fell in love the very moment she entered the ballroom. She was
+not in love with anyone in particular, but with everyone. Whatever
+person she happened to look at she was in love with for that moment.
+
+"Oh, how delightful it is!" she kept saying, running up to Sonya.
+
+Nicholas and Denisov were walking up and down, looking with kindly
+patronage at the dancers.
+
+"How sweet she is--she will be a weal beauty!" said Denisov.
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Countess Natasha," answered Denisov.
+
+"And how she dances! What gwace!" he said again after a pause.
+
+"Who are you talking about?"
+
+"About your sister," ejaculated Denisov testily.
+
+Rostov smiled.
+
+"My dear count, you were one of my best pupils--you must dance," said
+little Iogel coming up to Nicholas. "Look how many charming young
+ladies-" He turned with the same request to Denisov who was also a
+former pupil of his.
+
+"No, my dear fellow, I'll be a wallflower," said Denisov. "Don't you
+wecollect what bad use I made of your lessons?"
+
+
+"Oh no!" said Iogel, hastening to reassure him. "You were only
+inattentive, but you had talent--oh yes, you had talent!"
+
+The band struck up the newly introduced mazurka. Nicholas could not
+refuse Iogel and asked Sonya to dance. Denisov sat down by the old
+ladies and, leaning on his saber and beating time with his foot, told
+them something funny and kept them amused, while he watched the young
+people dancing, Iogel with Natasha, his pride and his best pupil, were
+the first couple. Noiselessly, skillfully stepping with his little feet
+in low shoes, Iogel flew first across the hall with Natasha, who, though
+shy, went on carefully executing her steps. Denisov did not take his
+eyes off her and beat time with his saber in a way that clearly
+indicated that if he was not dancing it was because he would not and not
+because he could not. In the middle of a figure he beckoned to Rostov
+who was passing:
+
+"This is not at all the thing," he said. "What sort of Polish mazuwka is
+this? But she does dance splendidly."
+
+Knowing that Denisov had a reputation even in Poland for the masterly
+way in which he danced the mazurka, Nicholas ran up to Natasha:
+
+"Go and choose Denisov. He is a real dancer, a wonder!" he said.
+
+When it came to Natasha's turn to choose a partner, she rose and,
+tripping rapidly across in her little shoes trimmed with bows, ran
+timidly to the corner where Denisov sat. She saw that everybody was
+looking at her and waiting. Nicholas saw that Denisov was refusing
+though he smiled delightedly. He ran up to them.
+
+"Please, Vasili Dmitrich," Natasha was saying, "do come!"
+
+"Oh no, let me off, Countess," Denisov replied.
+
+"Now then, Vaska," said Nicholas.
+
+"They coax me as if I were Vaska the cat!" said Denisov jokingly.
+
+"I'll sing for you a whole evening," said Natasha.
+
+"Oh, the faiwy! She can do anything with me!" said Denisov, and he
+unhooked his saber. He came out from behind the chairs, clasped his
+partner's hand firmly, threw back his head, and advanced his foot,
+waiting for the beat. Only on horse back and in the mazurka was
+Denisov's short stature not noticeable and he looked the fine fellow he
+felt himself to be. At the right beat of the music he looked sideways at
+his partner with a merry and triumphant air, suddenly stamped with one
+foot, bounded from the floor like a ball, and flew round the room taking
+his partner with him. He glided silently on one foot half across the
+room, and seeming not to notice the chairs was dashing straight at them,
+when suddenly, clinking his spurs and spreading out his legs, he stopped
+short on his heels, stood so a second, stamped on the spot clanking his
+spurs, whirled rapidly round, and, striking his left heel against his
+right, flew round again in a circle. Natasha guessed what he meant to
+do, and abandoning herself to him followed his lead hardly knowing how.
+First he spun her round, holding her now with his left, now with his
+right hand, then falling on one knee he twirled her round him, and again
+jumping up, dashed so impetuously forward that it seemed as if he would
+rush through the whole suite of rooms without drawing breath, and then
+he suddenly stopped and performed some new and unexpected steps. When at
+last, smartly whirling his partner round in front of her chair, he drew
+up with a click of his spurs and bowed to her, Natasha did not even make
+him a curtsy. She fixed her eyes on him in amazement, smiling as if she
+did not recognize him.
+
+"What does this mean?" she brought out.
+
+Although Iogel did not acknowledge this to be the real mazurka, everyone
+was delighted with Denisov's skill, he was asked again and again as a
+partner, and the old men began smilingly to talk about Poland and the
+good old days. Denisov, flushed after the mazurka and mopping himself
+with his handkerchief, sat down by Natasha and did not leave her for the
+rest of the evening.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+For two days after that Rostov did not see Dolokhov at his own or at
+Dolokhov's home: on the third day he received a note from him:
+
+As I do not intend to be at your house again for reasons you know of,
+and am going to rejoin my regiment, I am giving a farewell supper
+tonight to my friends--come to the English Hotel.
+
+About ten o'clock Rostov went to the English Hotel straight from the
+theater, where he had been with his family and Denisov. He was at once
+shown to the best room, which Dolokhov had taken for that evening. Some
+twenty men were gathered round a table at which Dolokhov sat between two
+candles. On the table was a pile of gold and paper money, and he was
+keeping the bank. Rostov had not seen him since his proposal and Sonya's
+refusal and felt uncomfortable at the thought of how they would meet.
+
+Dolokhov's clear, cold glance met Rostov as soon as he entered the door,
+as though he had long expected him.
+
+"It's a long time since we met," he said. "Thanks for coming. I'll just
+finish dealing, and then Ilyushka will come with his chorus."
+
+"I called once or twice at your house," said Rostov, reddening.
+
+Dolokhov made no reply.
+
+"You may punt," he said.
+
+Rostov recalled at that moment a strange conversation he had once had
+with Dolokhov. "None but fools trust to luck in play," Dolokhov had then
+said.
+
+"Or are you afraid to play with me?" Dolokhov now asked as if guessing
+Rostov's thought.
+
+Beneath his smile Rostov saw in him the mood he had shown at the club
+dinner and at other times, when as if tired of everyday life he had felt
+a need to escape from it by some strange, and usually cruel, action.
+
+Rostov felt ill at ease. He tried, but failed, to find some joke with
+which to reply to Dolokhov's words. But before he had thought of
+anything, Dolokhov, looking straight in his face, said slowly and
+deliberately so that everyone could hear:
+
+"Do you remember we had a talk about cards... 'He's a fool who trusts to
+luck, one should make certain,' and I want to try."
+
+"To try his luck or the certainty?" Rostov asked himself.
+
+"Well, you'd better not play," Dolokhov added, and springing a new pack
+of cards said: "Bank, gentlemen!"
+
+Moving the money forward he prepared to deal. Rostov sat down by his
+side and at first did not play. Dolokhov kept glancing at him.
+
+"Why don't you play?" he asked.
+
+And strange to say Nicholas felt that he could not help taking up a
+card, putting a small stake on it, and beginning to play.
+
+"I have no money with me," he said.
+
+"I'll trust you."
+
+Rostov staked five rubles on a card and lost, staked again, and again
+lost. Dolokhov "killed," that is, beat, ten cards of Rostov's running.
+
+"Gentlemen," said Dolokhov after he had dealt for some time. "Please
+place your money on the cards or I may get muddled in the reckoning."
+
+One of the players said he hoped he might be trusted.
+
+"Yes, you might, but I am afraid of getting the accounts mixed. So I ask
+you to put the money on your cards," replied Dolokhov. "Don't stint
+yourself, we'll settle afterwards," he added, turning to Rostov.
+
+The game continued; a waiter kept handing round champagne.
+
+All Rostov's cards were beaten and he had eight hundred rubles scored up
+against him. He wrote "800 rubles" on a card, but while the waiter
+filled his glass he changed his mind and altered it to his usual stake
+of twenty rubles.
+
+"Leave it," said Dolokhov, though he did not seem to be even looking at
+Rostov, "you'll win it back all the sooner. I lose to the others but win
+from you. Or are you afraid of me?" he asked again.
+
+Rostov submitted. He let the eight hundred remain and laid down a seven
+of hearts with a torn corner, which he had picked up from the floor. He
+well remembered that seven afterwards. He laid down the seven of hearts,
+on which with a broken bit of chalk he had written "800 rubles" in clear
+upright figures; he emptied the glass of warm champagne that was handed
+him, smiled at Dolokhov's words, and with a sinking heart, waiting for a
+seven to turn up, gazed at Dolokhov's hands which held the pack. Much
+depended on Rostov's winning or losing on that seven of hearts. On the
+previous Sunday the old count had given his son two thousand rubles, and
+though he always disliked speaking of money difficulties had told
+Nicholas that this was all he could let him have till May, and asked him
+to be more economical this time. Nicholas had replied that it would be
+more than enough for him and that he gave his word of honor not to take
+anything more till the spring. Now only twelve hundred rubles was left
+of that money, so that this seven of hearts meant for him not only the
+loss of sixteen hundred rubles, but the necessity of going back on his
+word. With a sinking heart he watched Dolokhov's hands and thought, "Now
+then, make haste and let me have this card and I'll take my cap and
+drive home to supper with Denisov, Natasha, and Sonya, and will
+certainly never touch a card again." At that moment his home life, jokes
+with Petya, talks with Sonya, duets with Natasha, piquet with his
+father, and even his comfortable bed in the house on the Povarskaya rose
+before him with such vividness, clearness, and charm that it seemed as
+if it were all a lost and unappreciated bliss, long past. He could not
+conceive that a stupid chance, letting the seven be dealt to the right
+rather than to the left, might deprive him of all this happiness, newly
+appreciated and newly illumined, and plunge him into the depths of
+unknown and undefined misery. That could not be, yet he awaited with a
+sinking heart the movement of Dolokhov's hands. Those broad, reddish
+hands, with hairy wrists visible from under the shirt cuffs, laid down
+the pack and took up a glass and a pipe that were handed him.
+
+"So you are not afraid to play with me?" repeated Dolokhov, and as if
+about to tell a good story he put down the cards, leaned back in his
+chair, and began deliberately with a smile:
+
+"Yes, gentlemen, I've been told there's a rumor going about Moscow that
+I'm a sharper, so I advise you to be careful."
+
+"Come now, deal!" exclaimed Rostov.
+
+"Oh, those Moscow gossips!" said Dolokhov, and he took up the cards with
+a smile.
+
+"Aah!" Rostov almost screamed lifting both hands to his head. The seven
+he needed was lying uppermost, the first card in the pack. He had lost
+more than he could pay.
+
+"Still, don't ruin yourself!" said Dolokhov with a side glance at Rostov
+as he continued to deal.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+An hour and a half later most of the players were but little interested
+in their own play.
+
+The whole interest was concentrated on Rostov. Instead of sixteen
+hundred rubles he had a long column of figures scored against him, which
+he had reckoned up to ten thousand, but that now, as he vaguely
+supposed, must have risen to fifteen thousand. In reality it already
+exceeded twenty thousand rubles. Dolokhov was no longer listening to
+stories or telling them, but followed every movement of Rostov's hands
+and occasionally ran his eyes over the score against him. He had decided
+to play until that score reached forty-three thousand. He had fixed on
+that number because forty-three was the sum of his and Sonya's joint
+ages. Rostov, leaning his head on both hands, sat at the table which was
+scrawled over with figures, wet with spilled wine, and littered with
+cards. One tormenting impression did not leave him: that those broad-
+boned reddish hands with hairy wrists visible from under the shirt
+sleeves, those hands which he loved and hated, held him in their power.
+
+"Six hundred rubles, ace, a corner, a nine... winning it back's
+impossible... Oh, how pleasant it was at home!... The knave, double or
+quits... it can't be!... And why is he doing this to me?" Rostov
+pondered. Sometimes he staked a large sum, but Dolokhov refused to
+accept it and fixed the stake himself. Nicholas submitted to him, and at
+one moment prayed to God as he had done on the battlefield at the bridge
+over the Enns, and then guessed that the card that came first to hand
+from the crumpled heap under the table would save him, now counted the
+cords on his coat and took a card with that number and tried staking the
+total of his losses on it, then he looked round for aid from the other
+players, or peered at the now cold face of Dolokhov and tried to read
+what was passing in his mind.
+
+"He knows of course what this loss means to me. He can't want my ruin.
+Wasn't he my friend? Wasn't I fond of him? But it's not his fault.
+What's he to do if he has such luck?... And it's not my fault either,"
+he thought to himself, "I have done nothing wrong. Have I killed anyone,
+or insulted or wished harm to anyone? Why such a terrible misfortune?
+And when did it begin? Such a little while ago I came to this table with
+the thought of winning a hundred rubles to buy that casket for Mamma's
+name day and then going home. I was so happy, so free, so lighthearted!
+And I did not realize how happy I was! When did that end and when did
+this new, terrible state of things begin? What marked the change? I sat
+all the time in this same place at this table, chose and placed cards,
+and watched those broad-boned agile hands in the same way. When did it
+happen and what has happened? I am well and strong and still the same
+and in the same place. No, it can't be! Surely it will all end in
+nothing!"
+
+He was flushed and bathed in perspiration, though the room was not hot.
+His face was terrible and piteous to see, especially from its helpless
+efforts to seem calm.
+
+The score against him reached the fateful sum of forty-three thousand.
+Rostov had just prepared a card, by bending the corner of which he meant
+to double the three thousand just put down to his score, when Dolokhov,
+slamming down the pack of cards, put it aside and began rapidly adding
+up the total of Rostov's debt, breaking the chalk as he marked the
+figures in his clear, bold hand.
+
+"Supper, it's time for supper! And here are the gypsies!"
+
+Some swarthy men and women were really entering from the cold outside
+and saying something in their gypsy accents. Nicholas understood that it
+was all over; but he said in an indifferent tone:
+
+"Well, won't you go on? I had a splendid card all ready," as if it were
+the fun of the game which interested him most.
+
+"It's all up! I'm lost!" thought he. "Now a bullet through my brain--
+that's all that's left me!" And at the same time he said in a cheerful
+voice:
+
+"Come now, just this one more little card!"
+
+"All right!" said Dolokhov, having finished the addition. "All right!
+Twenty-one rubles," he said, pointing to the figure twenty-one by which
+the total exceeded the round sum of forty-three thousand; and taking up
+a pack he prepared to deal. Rostov submissively unbent the corner of his
+card and, instead of the six thousand he had intended, carefully wrote
+twenty-one.
+
+"It's all the same to me," he said. "I only want to see whether you will
+let me win this ten, or beat it."
+
+Dolokhov began to deal seriously. Oh, how Rostov detested at that moment
+those hands with their short reddish fingers and hairy wrists, which
+held him in their power.... The ten fell to him.
+
+"You owe forty-three thousand, Count," said Dolokhov, and stretching
+himself he rose from the table. "One does get tired sitting so long," he
+added.
+
+"Yes, I'm tired too," said Rostov.
+
+Dolokhov cut him short, as if to remind him that it was not for him to
+jest.
+
+"When am I to receive the money, Count?"
+
+Rostov, flushing, drew Dolokhov into the next room.
+
+"I cannot pay it all immediately. Will you take an I.O.U.?" he said.
+
+"I say, Rostov," said Dolokhov clearly, smiling and looking Nicholas
+straight in the eyes, "you know the saying, 'Lucky in love, unlucky at
+cards.' Your cousin is in love with you, I know."
+
+"Oh, it's terrible to feel oneself so in this man's power," thought
+Rostov. He knew what a shock he would inflict on his father and mother
+by the news of this loss, he knew what a relief it would be to escape it
+all, and felt that Dolokhov knew that he could save him from all this
+shame and sorrow, but wanted now to play with him as a cat does with a
+mouse.
+
+"Your cousin..." Dolokhov started to say, but Nicholas interrupted him.
+
+"My cousin has nothing to do with this and it's not necessary to mention
+her!" he exclaimed fiercely.
+
+"Then when am I to have it?"
+
+"Tomorrow," replied Rostov and left the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+To say "tomorrow" and keep up a dignified tone was not difficult, but to
+go home alone, see his sisters, brother, mother, and father, confess and
+ask for money he had no right to after giving his word of honor, was
+terrible.
+
+At home, they had not yet gone to bed. The young people, after returning
+from the theater, had had supper and were grouped round the clavichord.
+As soon as Nicholas entered, he was enfolded in that poetic atmosphere
+of love which pervaded the Rostov household that winter and, now after
+Dolokhov's proposal and Iogel's ball, seemed to have grown thicker round
+Sonya and Natasha as the air does before a thunderstorm. Sonya and
+Natasha, in the light-blue dresses they had worn at the theater, looking
+pretty and conscious of it, were standing by the clavichord, happy and
+smiling. Vera was playing chess with Shinshin in the drawing room. The
+old countess, waiting for the return of her husband and son, sat playing
+patience with the old gentlewoman who lived in their house. Denisov,
+with sparkling eyes and ruffled hair, sat at the clavichord striking
+chords with his short fingers, his legs thrown back and his eyes rolling
+as he sang, with his small, husky, but true voice, some verses called
+"Enchantress," which he had composed, and to which he was trying to fit
+music:
+
+
+Enchantress, say, to my forsaken lyre What magic power is this recalls
+me still? What spark has set my inmost soul on fire, What is this bliss
+that makes my fingers thrill?
+
+He was singing in passionate tones, gazing with his sparkling black-
+agate eyes at the frightened and happy Natasha.
+
+"Splendid! Excellent!" exclaimed Natasha. "Another verse," she said,
+without noticing Nicholas.
+
+"Everything's still the same with them," thought Nicholas, glancing into
+the drawing room, where he saw Vera and his mother with the old lady.
+
+"Ah, and here's Nicholas!" cried Natasha, running up to him.
+
+"Is Papa at home?" he asked.
+
+"I am so glad you've come!" said Natasha, without answering him. "We are
+enjoying ourselves! Vasili Dmitrich is staying a day longer for my sake!
+Did you know?"
+
+"No, Papa is not back yet," said Sonya.
+
+"Nicholas, have you come? Come here, dear!" called the old countess from
+the drawing room.
+
+Nicholas went to her, kissed her hand, and sitting down silently at her
+table began to watch her hands arranging the cards. From the dancing
+room, they still heard the laughter and merry voices trying to persuade
+Natasha to sing.
+
+"All wight! All wight!" shouted Denisov. "It's no good making excuses
+now! It's your turn to sing the ba'cawolla--I entweat you!"
+
+The countess glanced at her silent son.
+
+"What is the matter?" she asked.
+
+"Oh, nothing," said he, as if weary of being continually asked the same
+question. "Will Papa be back soon?"
+
+"I expect so."
+
+"Everything's the same with them. They know nothing about it! Where am I
+to go?" thought Nicholas, and went again into the dancing room where the
+clavichord stood.
+
+Sonya was sitting at the clavichord, playing the prelude to Denisov's
+favorite barcarolle. Natasha was preparing to sing. Denisov was looking
+at her with enraptured eyes.
+
+Nicholas began pacing up and down the room.
+
+"Why do they want to make her sing? How can she sing? There's nothing to
+be happy about!" thought he.
+
+Sonya struck the first chord of the prelude.
+
+"My God, I'm a ruined and dishonored man! A bullet through my brain is
+the only thing left me--not singing!" his thoughts ran on. "Go away? But
+where to? It's one--let them sing!"
+
+He continued to pace the room, looking gloomily at Denisov and the girls
+and avoiding their eyes.
+
+"Nikolenka, what is the matter?" Sonya's eyes fixed on him seemed to
+ask. She noticed at once that something had happened to him.
+
+Nicholas turned away from her. Natasha too, with her quick instinct, had
+instantly noticed her brother's condition. But, though she noticed it,
+she was herself in such high spirits at that moment, so far from sorrow,
+sadness, or self-reproach, that she purposely deceived herself as young
+people often do. "No, I am too happy now to spoil my enjoyment by
+sympathy with anyone's sorrow," she felt, and she said to herself: "No,
+I must be mistaken, he must be feeling happy, just as I am."
+
+"Now, Sonya!" she said, going to the very middle of the room, where she
+considered the resonance was best.
+
+Having lifted her head and let her arms droop lifelessly, as ballet
+dancers do, Natasha, rising energetically from her heels to her toes,
+stepped to the middle of the room and stood still.
+
+"Yes, that's me!" she seemed to say, answering the rapt gaze with which
+Denisov followed her.
+
+"And what is she so pleased about?" thought Nicholas, looking at his
+sister. "Why isn't she dull and ashamed?"
+
+Natasha took the first note, her throat swelled, her chest rose, her
+eyes became serious. At that moment she was oblivious of her
+surroundings, and from her smiling lips flowed sounds which anyone may
+produce at the same intervals and hold for the same time, but which
+leave you cold a thousand times and the thousand and first time thrill
+you and make you weep.
+
+Natasha, that winter, had for the first time begun to sing seriously,
+mainly because Denisov so delighted in her singing. She no longer sang
+as a child, there was no longer in her singing that comical, childish,
+painstaking effect that had been in it before; but she did not yet sing
+well, as all the connoisseurs who heard her said: "It is not trained,
+but it is a beautiful voice that must be trained." Only they generally
+said this some time after she had finished singing. While that untrained
+voice, with its incorrect breathing and labored transitions, was
+sounding, even the connoisseurs said nothing, but only delighted in it
+and wished to hear it again. In her voice there was a virginal
+freshness, an unconsciousness of her own powers, and an as yet untrained
+velvety softness, which so mingled with her lack of art in singing that
+it seemed as if nothing in that voice could be altered without spoiling
+it.
+
+"What is this?" thought Nicholas, listening to her with widely opened
+eyes. "What has happened to her? How she is singing today!" And suddenly
+the whole world centered for him on anticipation of the next note, the
+next phrase, and everything in the world was divided into three beats:
+"Oh mio crudele affetto."... One, two, three... one, two, three...
+One... "Oh mio crudele affetto."... One, two, three... One. "Oh, this
+senseless life of ours!" thought Nicholas. "All this misery, and money,
+and Dolokhov, and anger, and honor--it's all nonsense... but this is
+real.... Now then, Natasha, now then, dearest! Now then, darling! How
+will she take that si? She's taken it! Thank God!" And without noticing
+that he was singing, to strengthen the si he sung a second, a third
+below the high note. "Ah, God! How fine! Did I really take it? How
+fortunate!" he thought.
+
+Oh, how that chord vibrated, and how moved was something that was finest
+in Rostov's soul! And this something was apart from everything else in
+the world and above everything in the world. "What were losses, and
+Dolokhov, and words of honor?... All nonsense! One might kill and rob
+and yet be happy..."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+It was long since Rostov had felt such enjoyment from music as he did
+that day. But no sooner had Natasha finished her barcarolle than reality
+again presented itself. He got up without saying a word and went
+downstairs to his own room. A quarter of an hour later the old count
+came in from his club, cheerful and contented. Nicholas, hearing him
+drive up, went to meet him.
+
+"Well--had a good time?" said the old count, smiling gaily and proudly
+at his son.
+
+Nicholas tried to say "Yes," but could not: and he nearly burst into
+sobs. The count was lighting his pipe and did not notice his son's
+condition.
+
+"Ah, it can't be avoided!" thought Nicholas, for the first and last
+time. And suddenly, in the most casual tone, which made him feel ashamed
+of himself, he said, as if merely asking his father to let him have the
+carriage to drive to town:
+
+"Papa, I have come on a matter of business. I was nearly forgetting. I
+need some money."
+
+"Dear me!" said his father, who was in a specially good humor. "I told
+you it would not be enough. How much?"
+
+"Very much," said Nicholas flushing, and with a stupid careless smile,
+for which he was long unable to forgive himself, "I have lost a little,
+I mean a good deal, a great deal--forty three thousand."
+
+"What! To whom?... Nonsense!" cried the count, suddenly reddening with
+an apoplectic flush over neck and nape as old people do.
+
+"I promised to pay tomorrow," said Nicholas.
+
+"Well!..." said the old count, spreading out his arms and sinking
+helplessly on the sofa.
+
+"It can't be helped It happens to everyone!" said the son, with a bold,
+free, and easy tone, while in his soul he regarded himself as a
+worthless scoundrel whose whole life could not atone for his crime. He
+longed to kiss his father's hands and kneel to beg his forgiveness, but
+said, in a careless and even rude voice, that it happens to everyone!
+
+The old count cast down his eyes on hearing his son's words and began
+bustlingly searching for something.
+
+"Yes, yes," he muttered, "it will be difficult, I fear, difficult to
+raise... happens to everybody! Yes, who has not done it?"
+
+And with a furtive glance at his son's face, the count went out of the
+room.... Nicholas had been prepared for resistance, but had not at all
+expected this.
+
+"Papa! Pa-pa!" he called after him, sobbing, "forgive me!" And seizing
+his father's hand, he pressed it to his lips and burst into tears.
+
+While father and son were having their explanation, the mother and
+daughter were having one not less important. Natasha came running to her
+mother, quite excited.
+
+"Mamma!... Mamma!... He has made me..."
+
+"Made what?"
+
+"Made, made me an offer, Mamma! Mamma!" she exclaimed.
+
+The countess did not believe her ears. Denisov had proposed. To whom? To
+this chit of a girl, Natasha, who not so long ago was playing with dolls
+and who was still having lessons.
+
+"Don't, Natasha! What nonsense!" she said, hoping it was a joke.
+
+"Nonsense, indeed! I am telling you the fact," said Natasha indignantly.
+"I come to ask you what to do, and you call it 'nonsense!'"
+
+The countess shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"If it is true that Monsieur Denisov has made you a proposal, tell him
+he is a fool, that's all!"
+
+"No, he's not a fool!" replied Natasha indignantly and seriously.
+
+"Well then, what do you want? You're all in love nowadays. Well, if you
+are in love, marry him!" said the countess, with a laugh of annoyance.
+"Good luck to you!"
+
+"No, Mamma, I'm not in love with him, I suppose I'm not in love with
+him."
+
+"Well then, tell him so."
+
+"Mamma, are you cross? Don't be cross, dear! Is it my fault?"
+
+"No, but what is it, my dear? Do you want me to go and tell him?" said
+the countess smiling.
+
+"No, I will do it myself, only tell me what to say. It's all very well
+for you," said Natasha, with a responsive smile. "You should have seen
+how he said it! I know he did not mean to say it, but it came out
+accidently."
+
+"Well, all the same, you must refuse him."
+
+"No, I mustn't. I am so sorry for him! He's so nice."
+
+"Well then, accept his offer. It's high time for you to be married,"
+answered the countess sharply and sarcastically.
+
+"No, Mamma, but I'm so sorry for him. I don't know how I'm to say it."
+
+"And there's nothing for you to say. I shall speak to him myself," said
+the countess, indignant that they should have dared to treat this little
+Natasha as grown up.
+
+"No, not on any account! I will tell him myself, and you'll listen at
+the door," and Natasha ran across the drawing room to the dancing hall,
+where Denisov was sitting on the same chair by the clavichord with his
+face in his hands.
+
+He jumped up at the sound of her light step.
+
+"Nataly," he said, moving with rapid steps toward her, "decide my fate.
+It is in your hands."
+
+"Vasili Dmitrich, I'm so sorry for you!... No, but you are so nice...
+but it won't do...not that... but as a friend, I shall always love you."
+
+Denisov bent over her hand and she heard strange sounds she did not
+understand. She kissed his rough curly black head. At this instant, they
+heard the quick rustle of the countess' dress. She came up to them.
+
+"Vasili Dmitrich, I thank you for the honor," she said, with an
+embarrassed voice, though it sounded severe to Denisov--"but my daughter
+is so young, and I thought that, as my son's friend, you would have
+addressed yourself first to me. In that case you would not have obliged
+me to give this refusal."
+
+"Countess..." said Denisov, with downcast eyes and a guilty face. He
+tried to say more, but faltered.
+
+Natasha could not remain calm, seeing him in such a plight. She began to
+sob aloud.
+
+"Countess, I have done w'ong," Denisov went on in an unsteady voice,
+"but believe me, I so adore your daughter and all your family that I
+would give my life twice over..." He looked at the countess, and seeing
+her severe face said: "Well, good-by, Countess," and kissing her hand,
+he left the room with quick resolute strides, without looking at
+Natasha.
+
+Next day Rostov saw Denisov off. He did not wish to stay another day in
+Moscow. All Denisov's Moscow friends gave him a farewell entertainment
+at the gypsies', with the result that he had no recollection of how he
+was put in the sleigh or of the first three stages of his journey.
+
+After Denisov's departure, Rostov spent another fortnight in Moscow,
+without going out of the house, waiting for the money his father could
+not at once raise, and he spent most of his time in the girls' room.
+
+Sonya was more tender and devoted to him than ever. It was as if she
+wanted to show him that his losses were an achievement that made her
+love him all the more, but Nicholas now considered himself unworthy of
+her.
+
+He filled the girls' albums with verses and music, and having at last
+sent Dolokhov the whole forty-three thousand rubles and received his
+receipt, he left at the end of November, without taking leave of any of
+his acquaintances, to overtake his regiment which was already in Poland.
+
+BOOK FIVE: 1806 - 07
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+After his interview with his wife Pierre left for Petersburg. At the
+Torzhok post station, either there were no horses or the postmaster
+would not supply them. Pierre was obliged to wait. Without undressing,
+he lay down on the leather sofa in front of a round table, put his big
+feet in their overboots on the table, and began to reflect.
+
+"Will you have the portmanteaus brought in? And a bed got ready, and
+tea?" asked his valet.
+
+Pierre gave no answer, for he neither heard nor saw anything. He had
+begun to think of the last station and was still pondering on the same
+question--one so important that he took no notice of what went on around
+him. Not only was he indifferent as to whether he got to Petersburg
+earlier or later, or whether he secured accommodation at this station,
+but compared to the thoughts that now occupied him it was a matter of
+indifference whether he remained there for a few hours or for the rest
+of his life.
+
+The postmaster, his wife, the valet, and a peasant woman selling Torzhok
+embroidery came into the room offering their services. Without changing
+his careless attitude, Pierre looked at them over his spectacles unable
+to understand what they wanted or how they could go on living without
+having solved the problems that so absorbed him. He had been engrossed
+by the same thoughts ever since the day he returned from Sokolniki after
+the duel and had spent that first agonizing, sleepless night. But now,
+in the solitude of the journey, they seized him with special force. No
+matter what he thought about, he always returned to these same questions
+which he could not solve and yet could not cease to ask himself. It was
+as if the thread of the chief screw which held his life together were
+stripped, so that the screw could not get in or out, but went on turning
+uselessly in the same place.
+
+The postmaster came in and began obsequiously to beg his excellency to
+wait only two hours, when, come what might, he would let his excellency
+have the courier horses. It was plain that he was lying and only wanted
+to get more money from the traveler.
+
+"Is this good or bad?" Pierre asked himself. "It is good for me, bad for
+another traveler, and for himself it's unavoidable, because he needs
+money for food; the man said an officer had once given him a thrashing
+for letting a private traveler have the courier horses. But the officer
+thrashed him because he had to get on as quickly as possible. And I,"
+continued Pierre, "shot Dolokhov because I considered myself injured,
+and Louis XVI was executed because they considered him a criminal, and a
+year later they executed those who executed him--also for some reason.
+What is bad? What is good? What should one love and what hate? What does
+one live for? And what am I? What is life, and what is death? What power
+governs all?"
+
+There was no answer to any of these questions, except one, and that not
+a logical answer and not at all a reply to them. The answer was: "You'll
+die and all will end. You'll die and know all, or cease asking." But
+dying was also dreadful.
+
+The Torzhok peddler woman, in a whining voice, went on offering her
+wares, especially a pair of goatskin slippers. "I have hundreds of
+rubles I don't know what to do with, and she stands in her tattered
+cloak looking timidly at me," he thought. "And what does she want the
+money for? As if that money could add a hair's breadth to happiness or
+peace of mind. Can anything in the world make her or me less a prey to
+evil and death?--death which ends all and must come today or tomorrow--
+at any rate, in an instant as compared with eternity." And again he
+twisted the screw with the stripped thread, and again it turned
+uselessly in the same place.
+
+His servant handed him a half-cut novel, in the form of letters, by
+Madame de Souza. He began reading about the sufferings and virtuous
+struggles of a certain Emilie de Mansfeld. "And why did she resist her
+seducer when she loved him?" he thought. "God could not have put into
+her heart an impulse that was against His will. My wife--as she once
+was--did not struggle, and perhaps she was right. Nothing has been found
+out, nothing discovered," Pierre again said to himself. "All we can know
+is that we know nothing. And that's the height of human wisdom."
+
+Everything within and around him seemed confused, senseless, and
+repellent. Yet in this very repugnance to all his circumstances Pierre
+found a kind of tantalizing satisfaction.
+
+"I make bold to ask your excellency to move a little for this
+gentleman," said the postmaster, entering the room followed by another
+traveler, also detained for lack of horses.
+
+The newcomer was a short, large-boned, yellow-faced, wrinkled old man,
+with gray bushy eyebrows overhanging bright eyes of an indefinite
+grayish color.
+
+Pierre took his feet off the table, stood up, and lay down on a bed that
+had been got ready for him, glancing now and then at the newcomer, who,
+with a gloomy and tired face, was wearily taking off his wraps with the
+aid of his servant, and not looking at Pierre. With a pair of felt boots
+on his thin bony legs, and keeping on a worn, nankeen-covered, sheepskin
+coat, the traveler sat down on the sofa, leaned back his big head with
+its broad temples and close-cropped hair, and looked at Bezukhov. The
+stern, shrewd, and penetrating expression of that look struck Pierre. He
+felt a wish to speak to the stranger, but by the time he had made up his
+mind to ask him a question about the roads, the traveler had closed his
+eyes. His shriveled old hands were folded and on the finger of one of
+them Pierre noticed a large cast iron ring with a seal representing a
+death's head. The stranger sat without stirring, either resting or, as
+it seemed to Pierre, sunk in profound and calm meditation. His servant
+was also a yellow, wrinkled old man, without beard or mustache,
+evidently not because he was shaven but because they had never grown.
+This active old servant was unpacking the traveler's canteen and
+preparing tea. He brought in a boiling samovar. When everything was
+ready, the stranger opened his eyes, moved to the table, filled a
+tumbler with tea for himself and one for the beardless old man to whom
+he passed it. Pierre began to feel a sense of uneasiness, and the need,
+even the inevitability, of entering into conversation with this
+stranger.
+
+The servant brought back his tumbler turned upside down, * with an
+unfinished bit of nibbled sugar, and asked if anything more would be
+wanted.
+
+
+* To indicate he did not want more tea.
+
+"No. Give me the book," said the stranger.
+
+The servant handed him a book which Pierre took to be a devotional work,
+and the traveler became absorbed in it. Pierre looked at him. All at
+once the stranger closed the book, putting in a marker, and again,
+leaning with his arms on the back of the sofa, sat in his former
+position with his eyes shut. Pierre looked at him and had not time to
+turn away when the old man, opening his eyes, fixed his steady and
+severe gaze straight on Pierre's face.
+
+Pierre felt confused and wished to avoid that look, but the bright old
+eyes attracted him irresistibly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+"I have the pleasure of addressing Count Bezukhov, if I am not
+mistaken," said the stranger in a deliberate and loud voice.
+
+Pierre looked silently and inquiringly at him over his spectacles.
+
+"I have heard of you, my dear sir," continued the stranger, "and of your
+misfortune." He seemed to emphasize the last word, as if to say--"Yes,
+misfortune! Call it what you please, I know that what happened to you in
+Moscow was a misfortune."--"I regret it very much, my dear sir."
+
+Pierre flushed and, hurriedly putting his legs down from the bed, bent
+forward toward the old man with a forced and timid smile.
+
+"I have not referred to this out of curiosity, my dear sir, but for
+greater reasons."
+
+He paused, his gaze still on Pierre, and moved aside on the sofa by way
+of inviting the other to take a seat beside him. Pierre felt reluctant
+to enter into conversation with this old man, but, submitting to him
+involuntarily, came up and sat down beside him.
+
+"You are unhappy, my dear sir," the stranger continued. "You are young
+and I am old. I should like to help you as far as lies in my power."
+
+"Oh, yes!" said Pierre, with a forced smile. "I am very grateful to you.
+Where are you traveling from?"
+
+The stranger's face was not genial, it was even cold and severe, but in
+spite of this, both the face and words of his new acquaintance were
+irresistibly attractive to Pierre.
+
+"But if for reason you don't feel inclined to talk to me," said the old
+man, "say so, my dear sir." And he suddenly smiled, in an unexpected and
+tenderly paternal way.
+
+"Oh no, not at all! On the contrary, I am very glad to make your
+acquaintance," said Pierre. And again, glancing at the stranger's hands,
+he looked more closely at the ring, with its skull--a masonic sign.
+
+"Allow me to ask," he said, "are you a Mason?"
+
+"Yes, I belong to the Brotherhood of the Freemasons," said the stranger,
+looking deeper and deeper into Pierre's eyes. "And in their name and my
+own I hold out a brotherly hand to you."
+
+"I am afraid," said Pierre, smiling, and wavering between the confidence
+the personality of the Freemason inspired in him and his own habit of
+ridiculing the masonic beliefs--"I am afraid I am very far from
+understanding--how am I to put it?--I am afraid my way of looking at the
+world is so opposed to yours that we shall not understand one another."
+
+"I know your outlook," said the Mason, "and the view of life you
+mention, and which you think is the result of your own mental efforts,
+is the one held by the majority of people, and is the invariable fruit
+of pride, indolence, and ignorance. Forgive me, my dear sir, but if I
+had not known it I should not have addressed you. Your view of life is a
+regrettable delusion."
+
+"Just as I may suppose you to be deluded," said Pierre, with a faint
+smile.
+
+"I should never dare to say that I know the truth," said the Mason,
+whose words struck Pierre more and more by their precision and firmness.
+"No one can attain to truth by himself. Only by laying stone on stone
+with the cooperation of all, by the millions of generations from our
+forefather Adam to our own times, is that temple reared which is to be a
+worthy dwelling place of the Great God," he added, and closed his eyes.
+
+"I ought to tell you that I do not believe... do not believe in God,"
+said Pierre, regretfully and with an effort, feeling it essential to
+speak the whole truth.
+
+The Mason looked intently at Pierre and smiled as a rich man with
+millions in hand might smile at a poor fellow who told him that he, poor
+man, had not the five rubles that would make him happy.
+
+"Yes, you do not know Him, my dear sir," said the Mason. "You cannot
+know Him. You do not know Him and that is why you are unhappy."
+
+"Yes, yes, I am unhappy," assented Pierre. "But what am I to do?"
+
+"You know Him not, my dear sir, and so you are very unhappy. You do not
+know Him, but He is here, He is in me, He is in my words, He is in thee,
+and even in those blasphemous words thou hast just uttered!" pronounced
+the Mason in a stern and tremulous voice.
+
+He paused and sighed, evidently trying to calm himself.
+
+"If He were not," he said quietly, "you and I would not be speaking of
+Him, my dear sir. Of what, of whom, are we speaking? Whom hast thou
+denied?" he suddenly asked with exulting austerity and authority in his
+voice. "Who invented Him, if He did not exist? Whence came thy
+conception of the existence of such an incomprehensible Being? didst
+thou, and why did the whole world, conceive the idea of the existence of
+such an incomprehensible Being, a Being all-powerful, eternal, and
+infinite in all His attributes?..."
+
+He stopped and remained silent for a long time.
+
+Pierre could not and did not wish to break this silence.
+
+"He exists, but to understand Him is hard," the Mason began again,
+looking not at Pierre but straight before him, and turning the leaves of
+his book with his old hands which from excitement he could not keep
+still. "If it were a man whose existence thou didst doubt I could bring
+him to thee, could take him by the hand and show him to thee. But how
+can I, an insignificant mortal, show His omnipotence, His infinity, and
+all His mercy to one who is blind, or who shuts his eyes that he may not
+see or understand Him and may not see or understand his own vileness and
+sinfulness?" He paused again. "Who art thou? Thou dreamest that thou art
+wise because thou couldst utter those blasphemous words," he went on,
+with a somber and scornful smile. "And thou art more foolish and
+unreasonable than a little child, who, playing with the parts of a
+skillfully made watch, dares to say that, as he does not understand its
+use, he does not believe in the master who made it. To know Him is
+hard.... For ages, from our forefather Adam to our own day, we labor to
+attain that knowledge and are still infinitely far from our aim; but in
+our lack of understanding we see only our weakness and His
+greatness...."
+
+Pierre listened with swelling heart, gazing into the Mason's face with
+shining eyes, not interrupting or questioning him, but believing with
+his whole soul what the stranger said. Whether he accepted the wise
+reasoning contained in the Mason's words, or believed as a child
+believes, in the speaker's tone of conviction and earnestness, or the
+tremor of the speaker's voice--which sometimes almost broke--or those
+brilliant aged eyes grown old in this conviction, or the calm firmness
+and certainty of his vocation, which radiated from his whole being (and
+which struck Pierre especially by contrast with his own dejection and
+hopelessness)--at any rate, Pierre longed with his whole soul to believe
+and he did believe, and felt a joyful sense of comfort, regeneration,
+and return to life.
+
+"He is not to be apprehended by reason, but by life," said the Mason.
+
+"I do not understand," said Pierre, feeling with dismay doubts
+reawakening. He was afraid of any want of clearness, any weakness, in
+the Mason's arguments; he dreaded not to be able to believe in him. "I
+don't understand," he said, "how it is that the mind of man cannot
+attain the knowledge of which you speak."
+
+The Mason smiled with his gentle fatherly smile.
+
+"The highest wisdom and truth are like the purest liquid we may wish to
+imbibe," he said. "Can I receive that pure liquid into an impure vessel
+and judge of its purity? Only by the inner purification of myself can I
+retain in some degree of purity the liquid I receive."
+
+"Yes, yes, that is so," said Pierre joyfully.
+
+"The highest wisdom is not founded on reason alone, not on those worldly
+sciences of physics, history, chemistry, and the like, into which
+intellectual knowledge is divided. The highest wisdom is one. The
+highest wisdom has but one science--the science of the whole--the
+science explaining the whole creation and man's place in it. To receive
+that science it is necessary to purify and renew one's inner self, and
+so before one can know, it is necessary to believe and to perfect one's
+self. And to attain this end, we have the light called conscience that
+God has implanted in our souls."
+
+"Yes, yes," assented Pierre.
+
+"Look then at thy inner self with the eyes of the spirit, and ask
+thyself whether thou art content with thyself. What hast thou attained
+relying on reason only? What art thou? You are young, you are rich, you
+are clever, you are well educated. And what have you done with all these
+good gifts? Are you content with yourself and with your life?"
+
+"No, I hate my life," Pierre muttered, wincing.
+
+"Thou hatest it. Then change it, purify thyself; and as thou art
+purified, thou wilt gain wisdom. Look at your life, my dear sir. How
+have you spent it? In riotous orgies and debauchery, receiving
+everything from society and giving nothing in return. You have become
+the possessor of wealth. How have you used it? What have you done for
+your neighbor? Have you ever thought of your tens of thousands of
+slaves? Have you helped them physically and morally? No! You have
+profited by their toil to lead a profligate life. That is what you have
+done. Have you chosen a post in which you might be of service to your
+neighbor? No! You have spent your life in idleness. Then you married, my
+dear sir--took on yourself responsibility for the guidance of a young
+woman; and what have you done? You have not helped her to find the way
+of truth, my dear sir, but have thrust her into an abyss of deceit and
+misery. A man offended you and you shot him, and you say you do not know
+God and hate your life. There is nothing strange in that, my dear sir!"
+
+After these words, the Mason, as if tired by his long discourse, again
+leaned his arms on the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. Pierre
+looked at that aged, stern, motionless, almost lifeless face and moved
+his lips without uttering a sound. He wished to say, "Yes, a vile, idle,
+vicious life!" but dared not break the silence.
+
+The Mason cleared his throat huskily, as old men do, and called his
+servant.
+
+"How about the horses?" he asked, without looking at Pierre.
+
+"The exchange horses have just come," answered the servant. "Will you
+not rest here?"
+
+"No, tell them to harness."
+
+"Can he really be going away leaving me alone without having told me
+all, and without promising to help me?" thought Pierre, rising with
+downcast head; and he began to pace the room, glancing occasionally at
+the Mason. "Yes, I never thought of it, but I have led a contemptible
+and profligate life, though I did not like it and did not want to,"
+thought Pierre. "But this man knows the truth and, if he wished to,
+could disclose it to me."
+
+Pierre wished to say this to the Mason, but did not dare to. The
+traveler, having packed his things with his practiced hands, began
+fastening his coat. When he had finished, he turned to Bezukhov, and
+said in a tone of indifferent politeness:
+
+"Where are you going to now, my dear sir?"
+
+"I?... I'm going to Petersburg," answered Pierre, in a childlike,
+hesitating voice. "I thank you. I agree with all you have said. But do
+not suppose me to be so bad. With my whole soul I wish to be what you
+would have me be, but I have never had help from anyone.... But it is I,
+above all, who am to blame for everything. Help me, teach me, and
+perhaps I may..."
+
+Pierre could not go on. He gulped and turned away.
+
+The Mason remained silent for a long time, evidently considering.
+
+"Help comes from God alone," he said, "but such measure of help as our
+Order can bestow it will render you, my dear sir. You are going to
+Petersburg. Hand this to Count Willarski" (he took out his notebook and
+wrote a few words on a large sheet of paper folded in four). "Allow me
+to give you a piece of advice. When you reach the capital, first of all
+devote some time to solitude and self-examination and do not resume your
+former way of life. And now I wish you a good journey, my dear sir," he
+added, seeing that his servant had entered... "and success."
+
+The traveler was Joseph Alexeevich Bazdeev, as Pierre saw from the
+postmaster's book. Bazdeev had been one of the best-known Freemasons and
+Martinists, even in Novikov's time. For a long while after he had gone,
+Pierre did not go to bed or order horses but paced up and down the room,
+pondering over his vicious past, and with a rapturous sense of beginning
+anew pictured to himself the blissful, irreproachable, virtuous future
+that seemed to him so easy. It seemed to him that he had been vicious
+only because he had somehow forgotten how good it is to be virtuous. Not
+a trace of his former doubts remained in his soul. He firmly believed in
+the possibility of the brotherhood of men united in the aim of
+supporting one another in the path of virtue, and that is how
+Freemasonry presented itself to him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+On reaching Petersburg Pierre did not let anyone know of his arrival, he
+went nowhere and spent whole days in reading Thomas a Kempis, whose book
+had been sent him by someone unknown. One thing he continually realized
+as he read that book: the joy, hitherto unknown to him, of believing in
+the possibility of attaining perfection, and in the possibility of
+active brotherly love among men, which Joseph Alexeevich had revealed to
+him. A week after his arrival, the young Polish count, Willarski, whom
+Pierre had known slightly in Petersburg society, came into his room one
+evening in the official and ceremonious manner in which Dolokhov's
+second had called on him, and, having closed the door behind him and
+satisfied himself that there was nobody else in the room, addressed
+Pierre.
+
+"I have come to you with a message and an offer, Count," he said without
+sitting down. "A person of very high standing in our Brotherhood has
+made application for you to be received into our Order before the usual
+term and has proposed to me to be your sponsor. I consider it a sacred
+duty to fulfill that person's wishes. Do you wish to enter the
+Brotherhood of Freemasons under my sponsorship?"
+
+The cold, austere tone of this man, whom he had almost always before met
+at balls, amiably smiling in the society of the most brilliant women,
+surprised Pierre.
+
+"Yes, I do wish it," said he.
+
+Willarski bowed his head.
+
+"One more question, Count," he said, "which I beg you to answer in all
+sincerity--not as a future Mason but as an honest man: have you
+renounced your former convictions--do you believe in God?"
+
+Pierre considered.
+
+"Yes... yes, I believe in God," he said.
+
+"In that case..." began Willarski, but Pierre interrupted him.
+
+"Yes, I do believe in God," he repeated.
+
+"In that case we can go," said Willarski. "My carriage is at your
+service."
+
+Willarski was silent throughout the drive. To Pierre's inquiries as to
+what he must do and how he should answer, Willarski only replied that
+brothers more worthy than he would test him and that Pierre had only to
+tell the truth.
+
+Having entered the courtyard of a large house where the Lodge had its
+headquarters, and having ascended a dark staircase, they entered a small
+well-lit anteroom where they took off their cloaks without the aid of a
+servant. From there they passed into another room. A man in strange
+attire appeared at the door. Willarski, stepping toward him, said
+something to him in French in an undertone and then went up to a small
+wardrobe in which Pierre noticed garments such as he had never seen
+before. Having taken a kerchief from the cupboard, Willarski bound
+Pierre's eyes with it and tied it in a knot behind, catching some hairs
+painfully in the knot. Then he drew his face down, kissed him, and
+taking him by the hand led him forward. The hairs tied in the knot hurt
+Pierre and there were lines of pain on his face and a shamefaced smile.
+His huge figure, with arms hanging down and with a puckered, though
+smiling face, moved after Willarski with uncertain, timid steps.
+
+Having led him about ten paces, Willarski stopped.
+
+"Whatever happens to you," he said, "you must bear it all manfully if
+you have firmly resolved to join our Brotherhood." (Pierre nodded
+affirmatively.) "When you hear a knock at the door, you will uncover
+your eyes," added Willarski. "I wish you courage and success," and,
+pressing Pierre's hand, he went out.
+
+Left alone, Pierre went on smiling in the same way. Once or twice he
+shrugged his shoulders and raised his hand to the kerchief, as if
+wishing to take it off, but let it drop again. The five minutes spent
+with his eyes bandaged seemed to him an hour. His arms felt numb, his
+legs almost gave way, it seemed to him that he was tired out. He
+experienced a variety of most complex sensations. He felt afraid of what
+would happen to him and still more afraid of showing his fear. He felt
+curious to know what was going to happen and what would be revealed to
+him; but most of all, he felt joyful that the moment had come when he
+would at last start on that path of regeneration and on the actively
+virtuous life of which he had been dreaming since he met Joseph
+Alexeevich. Loud knocks were heard at the door. Pierre took the bandage
+off his eyes and glanced around him. The room was in black darkness,
+only a small lamp was burning inside something white. Pierre went nearer
+and saw that the lamp stood on a black table on which lay an open book.
+The book was the Gospel, and the white thing with the lamp inside was a
+human skull with its cavities and teeth. After reading the first words
+of the Gospel: "In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with
+God," Pierre went round the table and saw a large open box filled with
+something. It was a coffin with bones inside. He was not at all
+surprised by what he saw. Hoping to enter on an entirely new life quite
+unlike the old one, he expected everything to be unusual, even more
+unusual than what he was seeing. A skull, a coffin, the Gospel--it
+seemed to him that he had expected all this and even more. Trying to
+stimulate his emotions he looked around. "God, death, love, the
+brotherhood of man," he kept saying to himself, associating these words
+with vague yet joyful ideas. The door opened and someone came in.
+
+By the dim light, to which Pierre had already become accustomed, he saw
+a rather short man. Having evidently come from the light into the
+darkness, the man paused, then moved with cautious steps toward the
+table and placed on it his small leather-gloved hands.
+
+This short man had on a white leather apron which covered his chest and
+part of his legs; he had on a kind of necklace above which rose a high
+white ruffle, outlining his rather long face which was lit up from
+below.
+
+"For what have you come hither?" asked the newcomer, turning in Pierre's
+direction at a slight rustle made by the latter. "Why have you, who do
+not believe in the truth of the light and who have not seen the light,
+come here? What do you seek from us? Wisdom, virtue, enlightenment?"
+
+At the moment the door opened and the stranger came in, Pierre felt a
+sense of awe and veneration such as he had experienced in his boyhood at
+confession; he felt himself in the presence of one socially a complete
+stranger, yet nearer to him through the brotherhood of man. With bated
+breath and beating heart he moved toward the Rhetor (by which name the
+brother who prepared a seeker for entrance into the Brotherhood was
+known). Drawing nearer, he recognized in the Rhetor a man he knew,
+Smolyaninov, and it mortified him to think that the newcomer was an
+acquaintance--he wished him simply a brother and a virtuous instructor.
+For a long time he could not utter a word, so that the Rhetor had to
+repeat his question.
+
+"Yes... I... I... desire regeneration," Pierre uttered with difficulty.
+
+"Very well," said Smolyaninov, and went on at once: "Have you any idea
+of the means by which our holy Order will help you to reach your aim?"
+said he quietly and quickly.
+
+"I... hope... for guidance... help... in regeneration," said Pierre,
+with a trembling voice and some difficulty in utterance due to his
+excitement and to being unaccustomed to speak of abstract matters in
+Russian.
+
+"What is your conception of Freemasonry?"
+
+"I imagine that Freemasonry is the fraternity and equality of men who
+have virtuous aims," said Pierre, feeling ashamed of the inadequacy of
+his words for the solemnity of the moment, as he spoke. "I imagine..."
+
+"Good!" said the Rhetor quickly, apparently satisfied with this answer.
+"Have you sought for means of attaining your aim in religion?"
+
+"No, I considered it erroneous and did not follow it," said Pierre, so
+softly that the Rhetor did not hear him and asked him what he was
+saying. "I have been an atheist," answered Pierre.
+
+"You are seeking for truth in order to follow its laws in your life,
+therefore you seek wisdom and virtue. Is that not so?" said the Rhetor,
+after a moment's pause.
+
+"Yes, yes," assented Pierre.
+
+The Rhetor cleared his throat, crossed his gloved hands on his breast,
+and began to speak.
+
+"Now I must disclose to you the chief aim of our Order," he said, "and
+if this aim coincides with yours, you may enter our Brotherhood with
+profit. The first and chief object of our Order, the foundation on which
+it rests and which no human power can destroy, is the preservation and
+handing on to posterity of a certain important mystery... which has come
+down to us from the remotest ages, even from the first man--a mystery on
+which perhaps the fate of mankind depends. But since this mystery is of
+such a nature that nobody can know or use it unless he be prepared by
+long and diligent self-purification, not everyone can hope to attain it
+quickly. Hence we have a secondary aim, that of preparing our members as
+much as possible to reform their hearts, to purify and enlighten their
+minds, by means handed on to us by tradition from those who have striven
+to attain this mystery, and thereby to render them capable of receiving
+it.
+
+"By purifying and regenerating our members we try, thirdly, to improve
+the whole human race, offering it in our members an example of piety and
+virtue, and thereby try with all our might to combat the evil which
+sways the world. Think this over and I will come to you again."
+
+"To combat the evil which sways the world..." Pierre repeated, and a
+mental image of his future activity in this direction rose in his mind.
+He imagined men such as he had himself been a fortnight ago, and he
+addressed an edifying exhortation to them. He imagined to himself
+vicious and unfortunate people whom he would assist by word and deed,
+imagined oppressors whose victims he would rescue. Of the three objects
+mentioned by the Rhetor, this last, that of improving mankind,
+especially appealed to Pierre. The important mystery mentioned by the
+Rhetor, though it aroused his curiosity, did not seem to him essential,
+and the second aim, that of purifying and regenerating himself, did not
+much interest him because at that moment he felt with delight that he
+was already perfectly cured of his former faults and was ready for all
+that was good.
+
+Half an hour later, the Rhetor returned to inform the seeker of the
+seven virtues, corresponding to the seven steps of Solomon's temple,
+which every Freemason should cultivate in himself. These virtues were:
+1. Discretion, the keeping of the secrets of the Order. 2. Obedience to
+those of higher ranks in the Order. 3. Morality. 4. Love of mankind. 5.
+Courage. 6. Generosity. 7. The love of death.
+
+"In the seventh place, try, by the frequent thought of death," the
+Rhetor said, "to bring yourself to regard it not as a dreaded foe, but
+as a friend that frees the soul grown weary in the labors of virtue from
+this distressful life, and leads it to its place of recompense and
+peace."
+
+"Yes, that must be so," thought Pierre, when after these words the
+Rhetor went away, leaving him to solitary meditation. "It must be so,
+but I am still so weak that I love my life, the meaning of which is only
+now gradually opening before me." But five of the other virtues which
+Pierre recalled, counting them on his fingers, he felt already in his
+soul: courage, generosity, morality, love of mankind, and especially
+obedience--which did not even seem to him a virtue, but a joy. (He now
+felt so glad to be free from his own lawlessness and to submit his will
+to those who knew the indubitable truth.) He forgot what the seventh
+virtue was and could not recall it.
+
+The third time the Rhetor came back more quickly and asked Pierre
+whether he was still firm in his intention and determined to submit to
+all that would be required of him.
+
+"I am ready for everything," said Pierre.
+
+"I must also inform you," said the Rhetor, "that our Order delivers its
+teaching not in words only but also by other means, which may perhaps
+have a stronger effect on the sincere seeker after wisdom and virtue
+than mere words. This chamber with what you see therein should already
+have suggested to your heart, if it is sincere, more than words could
+do. You will perhaps also see in your further initiation a like method
+of enlightenment. Our Order imitates the ancient societies that
+explained their teaching by hieroglyphics. A hieroglyph," said the
+Rhetor, "is an emblem of something not cognizable by the senses but
+which possesses qualities resembling those of the symbol."
+
+Pierre knew very well what a hieroglyph was, but dared not speak. He
+listened to the Rhetor in silence, feeling from all he said that his
+ordeal was about to begin.
+
+"If you are resolved, I must begin your initiation," said the Rhetor
+coming closer to Pierre. "In token of generosity I ask you to give me
+all your valuables."
+
+"But I have nothing here," replied Pierre, supposing that he was asked
+to give up all he possessed.
+
+"What you have with you: watch, money, rings...."
+
+Pierre quickly took out his purse and watch, but could not manage for
+some time to get the wedding ring off his fat finger. When that had been
+done, the Rhetor said:
+
+"In token of obedience, I ask you to undress."
+
+Pierre took off his coat, waistcoat, and left boot according to the
+Rhetor's instructions. The Mason drew the shirt back from Pierre's left
+breast, and stooping down pulled up the left leg of his trousers to
+above the knee. Pierre hurriedly began taking off his right boot also
+and was going to tuck up the other trouser leg to save this stranger the
+trouble, but the Mason told him that was not necessary and gave him a
+slipper for his left foot. With a childlike smile of embarrassment,
+doubt, and self-derision, which appeared on his face against his will,
+Pierre stood with his arms hanging down and legs apart, before his
+brother Rhetor, and awaited his further commands.
+
+"And now, in token of candor, I ask you to reveal to me your chief
+passion," said the latter.
+
+"My passion! I have had so many," replied Pierre.
+
+"That passion which more than all others caused you to waver on the path
+of virtue," said the Mason.
+
+Pierre paused, seeking a reply.
+
+"Wine? Gluttony? Idleness? Laziness? Irritability? Anger? Women?" He
+went over his vices in his mind, not knowing to which of them to give
+the pre-eminence.
+
+"Women," he said in a low, scarcely audible voice.
+
+The Mason did not move and for a long time said nothing after this
+answer. At last he moved up to Pierre and, taking the kerchief that lay
+on the table, again bound his eyes.
+
+"For the last time I say to you--turn all your attention upon yourself,
+put a bridle on your senses, and seek blessedness, not in passion but in
+your own heart. The source of blessedness is not without us but
+within...."
+
+Pierre had already long been feeling in himself that refreshing source
+of blessedness which now flooded his heart with glad emotion.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+Soon after this there came into the dark chamber to fetch Pierre, not
+the Rhetor but Pierre's sponsor, Willarski, whom he recognized by his
+voice. To fresh questions as to the firmness of his resolution Pierre
+replied: "Yes, yes, I agree," and with a beaming, childlike smile, his
+fat chest uncovered, stepping unevenly and timidly in one slippered and
+one booted foot, he advanced, while Willarski held a sword to his bare
+chest. He was conducted from that room along passages that turned
+backwards and forwards and was at last brought to the doors of the
+Lodge. Willarski coughed, he was answered by the masonic knock with
+mallets, the doors opened before them. A bass voice (Pierre was still
+blindfolded) questioned him as to who he was, when and where he was
+born, and so on. Then he was again led somewhere still blindfolded, and
+as they went along he was told allegories of the toils of his
+pilgrimage, of holy friendship, of the Eternal Architect of the
+universe, and of the courage with which he should endure toils and
+dangers. During these wanderings, Pierre noticed that he was spoken of
+now as the "Seeker," now as the "Sufferer," and now as the "Postulant,"
+to the accompaniment of various knockings with mallets and swords. As he
+was being led up to some object he noticed a hesitation and uncertainty
+among his conductors. He heard those around him disputing in whispers
+and one of them insisting that he should be led along a certain carpet.
+After that they took his right hand, placed it on something, and told
+him to hold a pair of compasses to his left breast with the other hand
+and to repeat after someone who read aloud an oath of fidelity to the
+laws of the Order. The candles were then extinguished and some spirit
+lighted, as Pierre knew by the smell, and he was told that he would now
+see the lesser light. The bandage was taken off his eyes and, by the
+faint light of the burning spirit, Pierre, as in a dream, saw several
+men standing before him, wearing aprons like the Rhetor's and holding
+swords in their hands pointed at his breast. Among them stood a man
+whose white shirt was stained with blood. On seeing this, Pierre moved
+forward with his breast toward the swords, meaning them to pierce it.
+But the swords were drawn back from him and he was at once blindfolded
+again.
+
+"Now thou hast seen the lesser light," uttered a voice. Then the candles
+were relit and he was told that he would see the full light; the bandage
+was again removed and more than ten voices said together: "Sic transit
+gloria mundi."
+
+Pierre gradually began to recover himself and looked about at the room
+and at the people in it. Round a long table covered with black sat some
+twelve men in garments like those he had already seen. Some of them
+Pierre had met in Petersburg society. In the President's chair sat a
+young man he did not know, with a peculiar cross hanging from his neck.
+On his right sat the Italian abbe whom Pierre had met at Anna Pavlovna's
+two years before. There were also present a very distinguished dignitary
+and a Swiss who had formerly been tutor at the Kuragins'. All maintained
+a solemn silence, listening to the words of the President, who held a
+mallet in his hand. Let into the wall was a star-shaped light. At one
+side of the table was a small carpet with various figures worked upon
+it, at the other was something resembling an altar on which lay a
+Testament and a skull. Round it stood seven large candlesticks like
+those used in churches. Two of the brothers led Pierre up to the altar,
+placed his feet at right angles, and bade him lie down, saying that he
+must prostrate himself at the Gates of the Temple.
+
+"He must first receive the trowel," whispered one of the brothers.
+
+"Oh, hush, please!" said another.
+
+Pierre, perplexed, looked round with his shortsighted eyes without
+obeying, and suddenly doubts arose in his mind. "Where am I? What am I
+doing? Aren't they laughing at me? Shan't I be ashamed to remember
+this?" But these doubts only lasted a moment. Pierre glanced at the
+serious faces of those around, remembered all he had already gone
+through, and realized that he could not stop halfway. He was aghast at
+his hesitation and, trying to arouse his former devotional feeling,
+prostrated himself before the Gates of the Temple. And really, the
+feeling of devotion returned to him even more strongly than before. When
+he had lain there some time, he was told to get up, and a white leather
+apron, such as the others wore, was put on him: he was given a trowel
+and three pairs of gloves, and then the Grand Master addressed him. He
+told him that he should try to do nothing to stain the whiteness of that
+apron, which symbolized strength and purity; then of the unexplained
+trowel, he told him to toil with it to cleanse his own heart from vice,
+and indulgently to smooth with it the heart of his neighbor. As to the
+first pair of gloves, a man's, he said that Pierre could not know their
+meaning but must keep them. The second pair of man's gloves he was to
+wear at the meetings, and finally of the third, a pair of women's
+gloves, he said: "Dear brother, these woman's gloves are intended for
+you too. Give them to the woman whom you shall honor most of all. This
+gift will be a pledge of your purity of heart to her whom you select to
+be your worthy helpmeet in Masonry." And after a pause, he added: "But
+beware, dear brother, that these gloves do not deck hands that are
+unclean." While the Grand Master said these last words it seemed to
+Pierre that he grew embarrassed. Pierre himself grew still more
+confused, blushed like a child till tears came to his eyes, began
+looking about him uneasily, and an awkward pause followed.
+
+This silence was broken by one of the brethren, who led Pierre up to the
+rug and began reading to him from a manuscript book an explanation of
+all the figures on it: the sun, the moon, a hammer, a plumb line, a
+trowel, a rough stone and a squared stone, a pillar, three windows, and
+so on. Then a place was assigned to Pierre, he was shown the signs of
+the Lodge, told the password, and at last was permitted to sit down. The
+Grand Master began reading the statutes. They were very long, and
+Pierre, from joy, agitation, and embarrassment, was not in a state to
+understand what was being read. He managed to follow only the last words
+of the statutes and these remained in his mind.
+
+"In our temples we recognize no other distinctions," read the Grand
+Master, "but those between virtue and vice. Beware of making any
+distinctions which may infringe equality. Fly to a brother's aid whoever
+he may be, exhort him who goeth astray, raise him that falleth, never
+bear malice or enmity toward thy brother. Be kindly and courteous.
+Kindle in all hearts the flame of virtue. Share thy happiness with thy
+neighbor, and may envy never dim the purity of that bliss. Forgive thy
+enemy, do not avenge thyself except by doing him good. Thus fulfilling
+the highest law thou shalt regain traces of the ancient dignity which
+thou hast lost."
+
+He finished and, getting up, embraced and kissed Pierre, who, with tears
+of joy in his eyes, looked round him, not knowing how to answer the
+congratulations and greetings from acquaintances that met him on all
+sides. He acknowledged no acquaintances but saw in all these men only
+brothers, and burned with impatience to set to work with them.
+
+The Grand Master rapped with his mallet. All the Masons sat down in
+their places, and one of them read an exhortation on the necessity of
+humility.
+
+The Grand Master proposed that the last duty should be performed, and
+the distinguished dignitary who bore the title of "Collector of Alms"
+went round to all the brothers. Pierre would have liked to subscribe all
+he had, but fearing that it might look like pride subscribed the same
+amount as the others.
+
+The meeting was at an end, and on reaching home Pierre felt as if he had
+returned from a long journey on which he had spent dozens of years, had
+become completely changed, and had quite left behind his former habits
+and way of life.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+The day after he had been received into the Lodge, Pierre was sitting at
+home reading a book and trying to fathom the significance of the Square,
+one side of which symbolized God, another moral things, a third physical
+things, and the fourth a combination of these. Now and then his
+attention wandered from the book and the Square and he formed in
+imagination a new plan of life. On the previous evening at the Lodge, he
+had heard that a rumor of his duel had reached the Emperor and that it
+would be wiser for him to leave Petersburg. Pierre proposed going to his
+estates in the south and there attending to the welfare of his serfs. He
+was joyfully planning this new life, when Prince Vasili suddenly entered
+the room.
+
+"My dear fellow, what have you been up to in Moscow? Why have you
+quarreled with Helene, mon cher? You are under a delusion," said Prince
+Vasili, as he entered. "I know all about it, and I can tell you
+positively that Helene is as innocent before you as Christ was before
+the Jews."
+
+Pierre was about to reply, but Prince Vasili interrupted him.
+
+"And why didn't you simply come straight to me as to a friend? I know
+all about it and understand it all," he said. "You behaved as becomes a
+man who values his honor, perhaps too hastily, but we won't go into
+that. But consider the position in which you are placing her and me in
+the eyes of society, and even of the court," he added, lowering his
+voice. "She is living in Moscow and you are here. Remember, dear boy,"
+and he drew Pierre's arm downwards, "it is simply a misunderstanding. I
+expect you feel it so yourself. Let us write her a letter at once, and
+she'll come here and all will be explained, or else, my dear boy, let me
+tell you it's quite likely you'll have to suffer for it."
+
+Prince Vasili gave Pierre a significant look.
+
+"I know from reliable sources that the Dowager Empress is taking a keen
+interest in the whole affair. You know she is very gracious to Helene."
+
+Pierre tried several times to speak, but, on one hand, Prince Vasili did
+not let him and, on the other, Pierre himself feared to begin to speak
+in the tone of decided refusal and disagreement in which he had firmly
+resolved to answer his father-in-law. Moreover, the words of the masonic
+statutes, "be kindly and courteous," recurred to him. He blinked, went
+red, got up and sat down again, struggling with himself to do what was
+for him the most difficult thing in life--to say an unpleasant thing to
+a man's face, to say what the other, whoever he might be, did not
+expect. He was so used to submitting to Prince Vasili's tone of careless
+self-assurance that he felt he would be unable to withstand it now, but
+he also felt that on what he said now his future depended--whether he
+would follow the same old road, or that new path so attractively shown
+him by the Masons, on which he firmly believed he would be reborn to a
+new life.
+
+"Now, dear boy," said Prince Vasili playfully, "say 'yes,' and I'll
+write to her myself, and we will kill the fatted calf."
+
+But before Prince Vasili had finished his playful speech, Pierre,
+without looking at him, and with a kind of fury that made him like his
+father, muttered in a whisper:
+
+"Prince, I did not ask you here. Go, please go!" And he jumped up and
+opened the door for him.
+
+"Go!" he repeated, amazed at himself and glad to see the look of
+confusion and fear that showed itself on Prince Vasili's face.
+
+"What's the matter with you? Are you ill?"
+
+"Go!" the quivering voice repeated. And Prince Vasili had to go without
+receiving any explanation.
+
+A week later, Pierre, having taken leave of his new friends, the Masons,
+and leaving large sums of money with them for alms, went away to his
+estates. His new brethren gave him letters to the Kiev and Odessa Masons
+and promised to write to him and guide him in his new activity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+The duel between Pierre and Dolokhov was hushed up and, in spite of the
+Emperor's severity regarding duels at that time, neither the principals
+nor their seconds suffered for it. But the story of the duel, confirmed
+by Pierre's rupture with his wife, was the talk of society. Pierre who
+had been regarded with patronizing condescension when he was an
+illegitimate son, and petted and extolled when he was the best match in
+Russia, had sunk greatly in the esteem of society after his marriage--
+when the marriageable daughters and their mothers had nothing to hope
+from him--especially as he did not know how, and did not wish, to court
+society's favor. Now he alone was blamed for what had happened, he was
+said to be insanely jealous and subject like his father to fits of
+bloodthirsty rage. And when after Pierre's departure Helene returned to
+Petersburg, she was received by all her acquaintances not only
+cordially, but even with a shade of deference due to her misfortune.
+When conversation turned on her husband Helene assumed a dignified
+expression, which with characteristic tact she had acquired though she
+did not understand its significance. This expression suggested that she
+had resolved to endure her troubles uncomplainingly and that her husband
+was a cross laid upon her by God. Prince Vasili expressed his opinion
+more openly. He shrugged his shoulders when Pierre was mentioned and,
+pointing to his forehead, remarked:
+
+"A bit touched--I always said so."
+
+"I said from the first," declared Anna Pavlovna referring to Pierre, "I
+said at the time and before anyone else" (she insisted on her priority)
+"that that senseless young man was spoiled by the depraved ideas of
+these days. I said so even at the time when everybody was in raptures
+about him, when he had just returned from abroad, and when, if you
+remember, he posed as a sort of Marat at one of my soirees. And how has
+it ended? I was against this marriage even then and foretold all that
+has happened."
+
+Anna Pavlovna continued to give on free evenings the same kind of
+soirees as before--such as she alone had the gift of arranging--at which
+was to be found "the cream of really good society, the bloom of the
+intellectual essence of Petersburg," as she herself put it. Besides this
+refined selection of society Anna Pavlovna's receptions were also
+distinguished by the fact that she always presented some new and
+interesting person to the visitors and that nowhere else was the state
+of the political thermometer of legitimate Petersburg court society so
+dearly and distinctly indicated.
+
+Toward the end of 1806, when all the sad details of Napoleon's
+destruction of the Prussian army at Jena and Auerstadt and the surrender
+of most of the Prussian fortresses had been received, when our troops
+had already entered Prussia and our second war with Napoleon was
+beginning, Anna Pavlovna gave one of her soirees. The "cream of really
+good society" consisted of the fascinating Helene, forsaken by her
+husband, Mortemart, the delightful Prince Hippolyte who had just
+returned from Vienna, two diplomatists, the old aunt, a young man
+referred to in that drawing room as "a man of great merit" (un homme de
+beaucoup de merite), a newly appointed maid of honor and her mother, and
+several other less noteworthy persons.
+
+The novelty Anna Pavlovna was setting before her guests that evening was
+Boris Drubetskoy, who had just arrived as a special messenger from the
+Prussian army and was aide-de-camp to a very important personage.
+
+The temperature shown by the political thermometer to the company that
+evening was this:
+
+"Whatever the European sovereigns and commanders may do to countenance
+Bonaparte, and to cause me, and us in general, annoyance and
+mortification, our opinion of Bonaparte cannot alter. We shall not cease
+to express our sincere views on that subject, and can only say to the
+King of Prussia and others: 'So much the worse for you. Tu l'as voulu,
+George Dandin,' that's all we have to say about it!"
+
+When Boris, who was to be served up to the guests, entered the drawing
+room, almost all the company had assembled, and the conversation, guided
+by Anna Pavlovna, was about our diplomatic relations with Austria and
+the hope of an alliance with her.
+
+Boris, grown more manly and looking fresh, rosy and self-possessed,
+entered the drawing room elegantly dressed in the uniform of an aide-de-
+camp and was duly conducted to pay his respects to the aunt and then
+brought back to the general circle.
+
+Anna Pavlovna gave him her shriveled hand to kiss and introduced him to
+several persons whom he did not know, giving him a whispered description
+of each.
+
+"Prince Hippolyte Kuragin, M. Krug, the charge d'affaires from
+Copenhagen--a profound intellect," and simply, "Mr. Shitov--a man of
+great merit"--this of the man usually so described.
+
+Thanks to Anna Mikhaylovna's efforts, his own tastes, and the
+peculiarities of his reserved nature, Boris had managed during his
+service to place himself very advantageously. He was aide-de-camp to a
+very important personage, had been sent on a very important mission to
+Prussia, and had just returned from there as a special messenger. He had
+become thoroughly conversant with that unwritten code with which he had
+been so pleased at Olmutz and according to which an ensign might rank
+incomparably higher than a general, and according to which what was
+needed for success in the service was not effort or work, or courage, or
+perseverance, but only the knowledge of how to get on with those who can
+grant rewards, and he was himself often surprised at the rapidity of his
+success and at the inability of others to understand these things. In
+consequence of this discovery his whole manner of life, all his
+relations with old friends, all his plans for his future, were
+completely altered. He was not rich, but would spend his last groat to
+be better dressed than others, and would rather deprive himself of many
+pleasures than allow himself to be seen in a shabby equipage or appear
+in the streets of Petersburg in an old uniform. He made friends with and
+sought the acquaintance of only those above him in position and who
+could therefore be of use to him. He liked Petersburg and despised
+Moscow. The remembrance of the Rostovs' house and of his childish love
+for Natasha was unpleasant to him and he had not once been to see the
+Rostovs since the day of his departure for the army. To be in Anna
+Pavlovna's drawing room he considered an important step up in the
+service, and he at once understood his role, letting his hostess make
+use of whatever interest he had to offer. He himself carefully scanned
+each face, appraising the possibilities of establishing intimacy with
+each of those present, and the advantages that might accrue. He took the
+seat indicated to him beside the fair Helene and listened to the general
+conversation.
+
+"Vienna considers the bases of the proposed treaty so unattainable that
+not even a continuity of most brilliant successes would secure them, and
+she doubts the means we have of gaining them. That is the actual phrase
+used by the Vienna cabinet," said the Danish charge d'affaires.
+
+"The doubt is flattering," said "the man of profound intellect," with a
+subtle smile.
+
+"We must distinguish between the Vienna cabinet and the Emperor of
+Austria," said Mortemart. "The Emperor of Austria can never have thought
+of such a thing, it is only the cabinet that says it."
+
+"Ah, my dear vicomte," put in Anna Pavlovna, "L'Urope" (for some reason
+she called it Urope as if that were a specially refined French
+pronunciation which she could allow herself when conversing with a
+Frenchman), "L'Urope ne sera jamais notre alliee sincere." *
+
+
+* "Europe will never be our sincere ally."
+
+After that Anna Pavlovna led up to the courage and firmness of the King
+of Prussia, in order to draw Boris into the conversation.
+
+Boris listened attentively to each of the speakers, awaiting his turn,
+but managed meanwhile to look round repeatedly at his neighbor, the
+beautiful Helene, whose eyes several times met those of the handsome
+young aide-de-camp with a smile.
+
+Speaking of the position of Prussia, Anna Pavlovna very naturally asked
+Boris to tell them about his journey to Glogau and in what state he
+found the Prussian army. Boris, speaking with deliberation, told them in
+pure, correct French many interesting details about the armies and the
+court, carefully abstaining from expressing an opinion of his own about
+the facts he was recounting. For some time he engrossed the general
+attention, and Anna Pavlovna felt that the novelty she had served up was
+received with pleasure by all her visitors. The greatest attention of
+all to Boris' narrative was shown by Helene. She asked him several
+questions about his journey and seemed greatly interested in the state
+of the Prussian army. As soon as he had finished she turned to him with
+her usual smile.
+
+"You absolutely must come and see me," she said in a tone that implied
+that, for certain considerations he could not know of, this was
+absolutely necessary.
+
+"On Tuesday between eight and nine. It will give me great pleasure."
+
+Boris promised to fulfill her wish and was about to begin a conversation
+with her, when Anna Pavlovna called him away on the pretext that her
+aunt wished to hear him.
+
+"You know her husband, of course?" said Anna Pavlovna, closing her eyes
+and indicating Helene with a sorrowful gesture. "Ah, she is such an
+unfortunate and charming woman! Don't mention him before her--please
+don't! It is too painful for her!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+When Boris and Anna Pavlovna returned to the others Prince Hippolyte had
+the ear of the company.
+
+Bending forward in his armchair he said: "Le Roi de Prusse!" and having
+said this laughed. Everyone turned toward him.
+
+"Le Roi de Prusse?" Hippolyte said interrogatively, again laughing, and
+then calmly and seriously sat back in his chair. Anna Pavlovna waited
+for him to go on, but as he seemed quite decided to say no more she
+began to tell of how at Potsdam the impious Bonaparte had stolen the
+sword of Frederick the Great.
+
+"It is the sword of Frederick the Great which I..." she began, but
+Hippolyte interrupted her with the words: "Le Roi de Prusse..." and
+again, as soon as all turned toward him, excused himself and said no
+more.
+
+Anna Pavlovna frowned. Mortemart, Hippolyte's friend, addressed him
+firmly.
+
+"Come now, what about your Roi de Prusse?"
+
+Hippolyte laughed as if ashamed of laughing.
+
+"Oh, it's nothing. I only wished to say..." (he wanted to repeat a joke
+he had heard in Vienna and which he had been trying all that evening to
+get in) "I only wished to say that we are wrong to fight pour le Roi de
+Prusse!"
+
+Boris smiled circumspectly, so that it might be taken as ironical or
+appreciative according to the way the joke was received. Everybody
+laughed.
+
+"Your joke is too bad, it's witty but unjust," said Anna Pavlovna,
+shaking her little shriveled finger at him.
+
+"We are not fighting pour le Roi de Prusse, but for right principles.
+Oh, that wicked Prince Hippolyte!" she said.
+
+The conversation did not flag all evening and turned chiefly on the
+political news. It became particularly animated toward the end of the
+evening when the rewards bestowed by the Emperor were mentioned.
+
+"You know N-- N-- received a snuffbox with the portrait last year?" said
+"the man of profound intellect." "Why shouldn't S-- S-- get the same
+distinction?"
+
+"Pardon me! A snuffbox with the Emperor's portrait is a reward but not a
+distinction," said the diplomatist--"a gift, rather."
+
+"There are precedents, I may mention Schwarzenberg."
+
+"It's impossible," replied another.
+
+"Will you bet? The ribbon of the order is a different matter...."
+
+When everybody rose to go, Helene who had spoken very little all the
+evening again turned to Boris, asking him in a tone of caressing
+significant command to come to her on Tuesday.
+
+"It is of great importance to me," she said, turning with a smile toward
+Anna Pavlovna, and Anna Pavlovna, with the same sad smile with which she
+spoke of her exalted patroness, supported Helene's wish.
+
+It seemed as if from some words Boris had spoken that evening about the
+Prussian army, Helene had suddenly found it necessary to see him. She
+seemed to promise to explain that necessity to him when he came on
+Tuesday.
+
+But on Tuesday evening, having come to Helene's splendid salon, Boris
+received no clear explanation of why it had been necessary for him to
+come. There were other guests and the countess talked little to him, and
+only as he kissed her hand on taking leave said unexpectedly and in a
+whisper, with a strangely unsmiling face: "Come to dinner tomorrow... in
+the evening. You must come.... Come!"
+
+During that stay in Petersburg, Boris became an intimate in the
+countess' house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+The war was flaming up and nearing the Russian frontier. Everywhere one
+heard curses on Bonaparte, "the enemy of mankind." Militiamen and
+recruits were being enrolled in the villages, and from the seat of war
+came contradictory news, false as usual and therefore variously
+interpreted. The life of old Prince Bolkonski, Prince Andrew, and
+Princess Mary had greatly changed since 1805.
+
+In 1806 the old prince was made one of the eight commanders in chief
+then appointed to supervise the enrollment decreed throughout Russia.
+Despite the weakness of age, which had become particularly noticeable
+since the time when he thought his son had been killed, he did not think
+it right to refuse a duty to which he had been appointed by the Emperor
+himself, and this fresh opportunity for action gave him new energy and
+strength. He was continually traveling through the three provinces
+entrusted to him, was pedantic in the fulfillment of his duties, severe
+to cruel with his subordinates, and went into everything down to the
+minutest details himself. Princess Mary had ceased taking lessons in
+mathematics from her father, and when the old prince was at home went to
+his study with the wet nurse and little Prince Nicholas (as his
+grandfather called him). The baby Prince Nicholas lived with his wet
+nurse and nurse Savishna in the late princess' rooms and Princess Mary
+spent most of the day in the nursery, taking a mother's place to her
+little nephew as best she could. Mademoiselle Bourienne, too, seemed
+passionately fond of the boy, and Princess Mary often deprived herself
+to give her friend the pleasure of dandling the little angel--as she
+called her nephew--and playing with him.
+
+Near the altar of the church at Bald Hills there was a chapel over the
+tomb of the little princess, and in this chapel was a marble monument
+brought from Italy, representing an angel with outspread wings ready to
+fly upwards. The angel's upper lip was slightly raised as though about
+to smile, and once on coming out of the chapel Prince Andrew and
+Princess Mary admitted to one another that the angel's face reminded
+them strangely of the little princess. But what was still stranger,
+though of this Prince Andrew said nothing to his sister, was that in the
+expression the sculptor had happened to give the angel's face, Prince
+Andrew read the same mild reproach he had read on the face of his dead
+wife: "Ah, why have you done this to me?"
+
+Soon after Prince Andrew's return the old prince made over to him a
+large estate, Bogucharovo, about twenty-five miles from Bald Hills.
+Partly because of the depressing memories associated with Bald Hills,
+partly because Prince Andrew did not always feel equal to bearing with
+his father's peculiarities, and partly because he needed solitude,
+Prince Andrew made use of Bogucharovo, began building and spent most of
+his time there.
+
+After the Austerlitz campaign Prince Andrew had firmly resolved not to
+continue his military service, and when the war recommenced and
+everybody had to serve, he took a post under his father in the
+recruitment so as to avoid active service. The old prince and his son
+seemed to have changed roles since the campaign of 1805. The old man,
+roused by activity, expected the best results from the new campaign,
+while Prince Andrew on the contrary, taking no part in the war and
+secretly regretting this, saw only the dark side.
+
+On February 26, 1807, the old prince set off on one of his circuits.
+Prince Andrew remained at Bald Hills as usual during his father's
+absence. Little Nicholas had been unwell for four days. The coachman who
+had driven the old prince to town returned bringing papers and letters
+for Prince Andrew.
+
+Not finding the young prince in his study the valet went with the
+letters to Princess Mary's apartments, but did not find him there. He
+was told that the prince had gone to the nursery.
+
+"If you please, your excellency, Petrusha has brought some papers," said
+one of the nursemaids to Prince Andrew who was sitting on a child's
+little chair while, frowning and with trembling hands, he poured drops
+from a medicine bottle into a wineglass half full of water.
+
+"What is it?" he said crossly, and, his hand shaking unintentionally, he
+poured too many drops into the glass. He threw the mixture onto the
+floor and asked for some more water. The maid brought it.
+
+There were in the room a child's cot, two boxes, two armchairs, a table,
+a child's table, and the little chair on which Prince Andrew was
+sitting. The curtains were drawn, and a single candle was burning on the
+table, screened by a bound music book so that the light did not fall on
+the cot.
+
+"My dear," said Princess Mary, addressing her brother from beside the
+cot where she was standing, "better wait a bit... later..."
+
+"Oh, leave off, you always talk nonsense and keep putting things off--
+and this is what comes of it!" said Prince Andrew in an exasperated
+whisper, evidently meaning to wound his sister.
+
+"My dear, really... it's better not to wake him... he's asleep," said
+the princess in a tone of entreaty.
+
+Prince Andrew got up and went on tiptoe up to the little bed, wineglass
+in hand.
+
+"Perhaps we'd really better not wake him," he said hesitating.
+
+"As you please... really... I think so... but as you please," said
+Princess Mary, evidently intimidated and confused that her opinion had
+prevailed. She drew her brother's attention to the maid who was calling
+him in a whisper.
+
+It was the second night that neither of them had slept, watching the boy
+who was in a high fever. These last days, mistrusting their household
+doctor and expecting another for whom they had sent to town, they had
+been trying first one remedy and then another. Worn out by sleeplessness
+and anxiety they threw their burden of sorrow on one another and
+reproached and disputed with each other.
+
+"Petrusha has come with papers from your father," whispered the maid.
+
+Prince Andrew went out.
+
+"Devil take them!" he muttered, and after listening to the verbal
+instructions his father had sent and taking the correspondence and his
+father's letter, he returned to the nursery.
+
+"Well?" he asked.
+
+"Still the same. Wait, for heaven's sake. Karl Ivanich always says that
+sleep is more important than anything," whispered Princess Mary with a
+sigh.
+
+Prince Andrew went up to the child and felt him. He was burning hot.
+
+"Confound you and your Karl Ivanich!" He took the glass with the drops
+and again went up to the cot.
+
+"Andrew, don't!" said Princess Mary.
+
+But he scowled at her angrily though also with suffering in his eyes,
+and stooped glass in hand over the infant.
+
+"But I wish it," he said. "I beg you--give it him!"
+
+Princess Mary shrugged her shoulders but took the glass submissively and
+calling the nurse began giving the medicine. The child screamed
+hoarsely. Prince Andrew winced and, clutching his head, went out and sat
+down on a sofa in the next room.
+
+He still had all the letters in his hand. Opening them mechanically he
+began reading. The old prince, now and then using abbreviations, wrote
+in his large elongated hand on blue paper as follows:
+
+Have just this moment received by special messenger very joyful news--if
+it's not false. Bennigsen seems to have obtained a complete victory over
+Buonaparte at Eylau. In Petersburg everyone is rejoicing, and the
+rewards sent to the army are innumerable. Though he is a German--I
+congratulate him! I can't make out what the commander at Korchevo--a
+certain Khandrikov--is up to; till now the additional men and provisions
+have not arrived. Gallop off to him at once and say I'll have his head
+off if everything is not here in a week. Have received another letter
+about the Preussisch-Eylau battle from Petenka--he took part in it--and
+it's all true. When mischief-makers don't meddle even a German beats
+Buonaparte. He is said to be fleeing in great disorder. Mind you gallop
+off to Korchevo without delay and carry out instructions!
+
+Prince Andrew sighed and broke the seal of another envelope. It was a
+closely written letter of two sheets from Bilibin. He folded it up
+without reading it and reread his father's letter, ending with the
+words: "Gallop off to Korchevo and carry out instructions!"
+
+"No, pardon me, I won't go now till the child is better," thought he,
+going to the door and looking into the nursery.
+
+Princess Mary was still standing by the cot, gently rocking the baby.
+
+"Ah yes, and what else did he say that's unpleasant?" thought Prince
+Andrew, recalling his father's letter. "Yes, we have gained a victory
+over Bonaparte, just when I'm not serving. Yes, yes, he's always poking
+fun at me.... Ah, well! Let him!" And he began reading Bilibin's letter
+which was written in French. He read without understanding half of it,
+read only to forget, if but for a moment, what he had too long been
+thinking of so painfully to the exclusion of all else.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+Bilibin was now at army headquarters in a diplomatic capacity, and
+though he wrote in French and used French jests and French idioms, he
+described the whole campaign with a fearless self-censure and self-
+derision genuinely Russian. Bilibin wrote that the obligation of
+diplomatic discretion tormented him, and he was happy to have in Prince
+Andrew a reliable correspondent to whom he could pour out the bile he
+had accumulated at the sight of all that was being done in the army. The
+letter was old, having been written before the battle at Preussisch-
+Eylau.
+
+"Since the day of our brilliant success at Austerlitz," wrote Bilibin,
+"as you know, my dear prince, I never leave headquarters. I have
+certainly acquired a taste for war, and it is just as well for me; what
+I have seen during these last three months is incredible.
+
+"I begin ab ovo. 'The enemy of the human race,' as you know, attacks the
+Prussians. The Prussians are our faithful allies who have only betrayed
+us three times in three years. We take up their cause, but it turns out
+that 'the enemy of the human race' pays no heed to our fine speeches and
+in his rude and savage way throws himself on the Prussians without
+giving them time to finish the parade they had begun, and in two twists
+of the hand he breaks them to smithereens and installs himself in the
+palace at Potsdam.
+
+"'I most ardently desire,' writes the King of Prussia to Bonaparte,
+'that Your Majesty should be received and treated in my palace in a
+manner agreeable to yourself, and in so far as circumstances allowed, I
+have hastened to take all steps to that end. May I have succeeded!' The
+Prussian generals pride themselves on being polite to the French and lay
+down their arms at the first demand.
+
+"The head of the garrison at Glogau, with ten thousand men, asks the
+King of Prussia what he is to do if he is summoned to surrender.... All
+this is absolutely true.
+
+"In short, hoping to settle matters by taking up a warlike attitude, it
+turns out that we have landed ourselves in war, and what is more, in war
+on our own frontiers, with and for the King of Prussia. We have
+everything in perfect order, only one little thing is lacking, namely, a
+commander in chief. As it was considered that the Austerlitz success
+might have been more decisive had the commander-in-chief not been so
+young, all our octogenarians were reviewed, and of Prozorovski and
+Kamenski the latter was preferred. The general comes to us, Suvorov-
+like, in a kibitka, and is received with acclamations of joy and
+triumph.
+
+"On the 4th, the first courier arrives from Petersburg. The mails are
+taken to the field marshal's room, for he likes to do everything
+himself. I am called in to help sort the letters and take those meant
+for us. The field marshal looks on and waits for letters addressed to
+him. We search, but none are to be found. The field marshal grows
+impatient and sets to work himself and finds letters from the Emperor to
+Count T., Prince V., and others. Then he bursts into one of his wild
+furies and rages at everyone and everything, seizes the letters, opens
+them, and reads those from the Emperor addressed to others. 'Ah! So
+that's the way they treat me! No confidence in me! Ah, ordered to keep
+an eye on me! Very well then! Get along with you!' So he writes the
+famous order of the day to General Bennigsen:
+
+'I am wounded and cannot ride and consequently cannot command the army.
+You have brought your army corps to Pultusk, routed: here it is exposed,
+and without fuel or forage, so something must be done, and, as you
+yourself reported to Count Buxhowden yesterday, you must think of
+retreating to our frontier--which do today.'
+
+"'From all my riding,' he writes to the Emperor, 'I have got a saddle
+sore which, coming after all my previous journeys, quite prevents my
+riding and commanding so vast an army, so I have passed on the command
+to the general next in seniority, Count Buxhowden, having sent him my
+whole staff and all that belongs to it, advising him if there is a lack
+of bread, to move farther into the interior of Prussia, for only one
+day's ration of bread remains, and in some regiments none at all, as
+reported by the division commanders, Ostermann and Sedmoretzki, and all
+that the peasants had has been eaten up. I myself will remain in
+hospital at Ostrolenka till I recover. In regard to which I humbly
+submit my report, with the information that if the army remains in its
+present bivouac another fortnight there will not be a healthy man left
+in it by spring.
+
+"'Grant leave to retire to his country seat to an old man who is already
+in any case dishonored by being unable to fulfill the great and glorious
+task for which he was chosen. I shall await your most gracious
+permission here in hospital, that I may not have to play the part of a
+secretary rather than commander in the army. My removal from the army
+does not produce the slightest stir--a blind man has left it. There are
+thousands such as I in Russia.'
+
+"The field marshal is angry with the Emperor and he punishes us all,
+isn't it logical?
+
+"This is the first act. Those that follow are naturally increasingly
+interesting and entertaining. After the field marshal's departure it
+appears that we are within sight of the enemy and must give battle.
+Buxhowden is commander-in-chief by seniority, but General Bennigsen does
+not quite see it; more particularly as it is he and his corps who are
+within sight of the enemy and he wishes to profit by the opportunity to
+fight a battle 'on his own hand' as the Germans say. He does so. This is
+the battle of Pultusk, which is considered a great victory but in my
+opinion was nothing of the kind. We civilians, as you know, have a very
+bad way of deciding whether a battle was won or lost. Those who retreat
+after a battle have lost it is what we say; and according to that it is
+we who lost the battle of Pultusk. In short, we retreat after the battle
+but send a courier to Petersburg with news of a victory, and General
+Bennigsen, hoping to receive from Petersburg the post of commander in
+chief as a reward for his victory, does not give up the command of the
+army to General Buxhowden. During this interregnum we begin a very
+original and interesting series of maneuvers. Our aim is no longer, as
+it should be, to avoid or attack the enemy, but solely to avoid General
+Buxhowden who by right of seniority should be our chief. So
+energetically do we pursue this aim that after crossing an unfordable
+river we burn the bridges to separate ourselves from our enemy, who at
+the moment is not Bonaparte but Buxhowden. General Buxhowden was all but
+attacked and captured by a superior enemy force as a result of one of
+these maneuvers that enabled us to escape him. Buxhowden pursues us--we
+scuttle. He hardly crosses the river to our side before we recross to
+the other. At last our enemy, Buxhowden, catches us and attacks. Both
+generals are angry, and the result is a challenge on Buxhowden's part
+and an epileptic fit on Bennigsen's. But at the critical moment the
+courier who carried the news of our victory at Pultusk to Petersburg
+returns bringing our appointment as commander-in-chief, and our first
+foe, Buxhowden, is vanquished; we can now turn our thoughts to the
+second, Bonaparte. But as it turns out, just at that moment a third
+enemy rises before us--namely the Orthodox Russian soldiers, loudly
+demanding bread, meat, biscuits, fodder, and whatnot! The stores are
+empty, the roads impassable. The Orthodox begin looting, and in a way of
+which our last campaign can give you no idea. Half the regiments form
+bands and scour the countryside and put everything to fire and sword.
+The inhabitants are totally ruined, the hospitals overflow with sick,
+and famine is everywhere. Twice the marauders even attack our
+headquarters, and the commander-in-chief has to ask for a battalion to
+disperse them. During one of these attacks they carried off my empty
+portmanteau and my dressing gown. The Emperor proposes to give all
+commanders of divisions the right to shoot marauders, but I much fear
+this will oblige one half the army to shoot the other."
+
+At first Prince Andrew read with his eyes only, but after a while, in
+spite of himself (although he knew how far it was safe to trust
+Bilibin), what he had read began to interest him more and more. When he
+had read thus far, he crumpled the letter up and threw it away. It was
+not what he had read that vexed him, but the fact that the life out
+there in which he had now no part could perturb him. He shut his eyes,
+rubbed his forehead as if to rid himself of all interest in what he had
+read, and listened to what was passing in the nursery. Suddenly he
+thought he heard a strange noise through the door. He was seized with
+alarm lest something should have happened to the child while he was
+reading the letter. He went on tiptoe to the nursery door and opened it.
+
+Just as he went in he saw that the nurse was hiding something from him
+with a scared look and that Princess Mary was no longer by the cot.
+
+"My dear," he heard what seemed to him her despairing whisper behind
+him.
+
+As often happens after long sleeplessness and long anxiety, he was
+seized by an unreasoning panic--it occurred to him that the child was
+dead. All that he saw and heard seemed to confirm this terror.
+
+"All is over," he thought, and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
+He went to the cot in confusion, sure that he would find it empty and
+that the nurse had been hiding the dead baby. He drew the curtain aside
+and for some time his frightened, restless eyes could not find the baby.
+At last he saw him: the rosy boy had tossed about till he lay across the
+bed with his head lower than the pillow, and was smacking his lips in
+his sleep and breathing evenly.
+
+Prince Andrew was as glad to find the boy like that, as if he had
+already lost him. He bent over him and, as his sister had taught him,
+tried with his lips whether the child was still feverish. The soft
+forehead was moist. Prince Andrew touched the head with his hand; even
+the hair was wet, so profusely had the child perspired. He was not dead,
+but evidently the crisis was over and he was convalescent. Prince Andrew
+longed to snatch up, to squeeze, to hold to his heart, this helpless
+little creature, but dared not do so. He stood over him, gazing at his
+head and at the little arms and legs which showed under the blanket. He
+heard a rustle behind him and a shadow appeared under the curtain of the
+cot. He did not look round, but still gazing at the infant's face
+listened to his regular breathing. The dark shadow was Princess Mary,
+who had come up to the cot with noiseless steps, lifted the curtain, and
+dropped it again behind her. Prince Andrew recognized her without
+looking and held out his hand to her. She pressed it.
+
+"He has perspired," said Prince Andrew.
+
+"I was coming to tell you so."
+
+The child moved slightly in his sleep, smiled, and rubbed his forehead
+against the pillow.
+
+Prince Andrew looked at his sister. In the dim shadow of the curtain her
+luminous eyes shone more brightly than usual from the tears of joy that
+were in them. She leaned over to her brother and kissed him, slightly
+catching the curtain of the cot. Each made the other a warning gesture
+and stood still in the dim light beneath the curtain as if not wishing
+to leave that seclusion where they three were shut off from all the
+world. Prince Andrew was the first to move away, ruffling his hair
+against the muslin of the curtain.
+
+"Yes, this is the one thing left me now," he said with a sigh.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+Soon after his admission to the masonic Brotherhood, Pierre went to the
+Kiev province, where he had the greatest number of serfs, taking with
+him full directions which he had written down for his own guidance as to
+what he should do on his estates.
+
+When he reached Kiev he sent for all his stewards to the head office and
+explained to them his intentions and wishes. He told them that steps
+would be taken immediately to free his serfs--and that till then they
+were not to be overburdened with labor, women while nursing their babies
+were not to be sent to work, assistance was to be given to the serfs,
+punishments were to be admonitory and not corporal, and hospitals,
+asylums, and schools were to be established on all the estates. Some of
+the stewards (there were semiliterate foremen among them) listened with
+alarm, supposing these words to mean that the young count was displeased
+with their management and embezzlement of money, some after their first
+fright were amused by Pierre's lisp and the new words they had not heard
+before, others simply enjoyed hearing how the master talked, while the
+cleverest among them, including the chief steward, understood from this
+speech how they could best handle the master for their own ends.
+
+The chief steward expressed great sympathy with Pierre's intentions, but
+remarked that besides these changes it would be necessary to go into the
+general state of affairs which was far from satisfactory.
+
+Despite Count Bezukhov's enormous wealth, since he had come into an
+income which was said to amount to five hundred thousand rubles a year,
+Pierre felt himself far poorer than when his father had made him an
+allowance of ten thousand rubles. He had a dim perception of the
+following budget:
+
+About 80,000 went in payments on all the estates to the Land Bank, about
+30,000 went for the upkeep of the estate near Moscow, the town house,
+and the allowance to the three princesses; about 15,000 was given in
+pensions and the same amount for asylums; 150,000 alimony was sent to
+the countess; about 70,000 went for interest on debts. The building of a
+new church, previously begun, had cost about 10,000 in each of the last
+two years, and he did not know how the rest, about 100,000 rubles, was
+spent, and almost every year he was obliged to borrow. Besides this the
+chief steward wrote every year telling him of fires and bad harvests, or
+of the necessity of rebuilding factories and workshops. So the first
+task Pierre had to face was one for which he had very little aptitude or
+inclination--practical business.
+
+He discussed estate affairs every day with his chief steward. But he
+felt that this did not forward matters at all. He felt that these
+consultations were detached from real affairs and did not link up with
+them or make them move. On the one hand, the chief steward put the state
+of things to him in the very worst light, pointing out the necessity of
+paying off the debts and undertaking new activities with serf labor, to
+which Pierre did not agree. On the other hand, Pierre demanded that
+steps should be taken to liberate the serfs, which the steward met by
+showing the necessity of first paying off the loans from the Land Bank,
+and the consequent impossibility of a speedy emancipation.
+
+The steward did not say it was quite impossible, but suggested selling
+the forests in the province of Kostroma, the land lower down the river,
+and the Crimean estate, in order to make it possible: all of which
+operations according to him were connected with such complicated
+measures--the removal of injunctions, petitions, permits, and so on--
+that Pierre became quite bewildered and only replied:
+
+"Yes, yes, do so."
+
+Pierre had none of the practical persistence that would have enabled him
+to attend to the business himself and so he disliked it and only tried
+to pretend to the steward that he was attending to it. The steward for
+his part tried to pretend to the count that he considered these
+consultations very valuable for the proprietor and troublesome to
+himself.
+
+In Kiev Pierre found some people he knew, and strangers hastened to make
+his acquaintance and joyfully welcomed the rich newcomer, the largest
+landowner of the province. Temptations to Pierre's greatest weakness--
+the one to which he had confessed when admitted to the Lodge--were so
+strong that he could not resist them. Again whole days, weeks, and
+months of his life passed in as great a rush and were as much occupied
+with evening parties, dinners, lunches, and balls, giving him no time
+for reflection, as in Petersburg. Instead of the new life he had hoped
+to lead he still lived the old life, only in new surroundings.
+
+Of the three precepts of Freemasonry Pierre realized that he did not
+fulfill the one which enjoined every Mason to set an example of moral
+life, and that of the seven virtues he lacked two--morality and the love
+of death. He consoled himself with the thought that he fulfilled another
+of the precepts--that of reforming the human race--and had other
+virtues--love of his neighbor, and especially generosity.
+
+In the spring of 1807 he decided to return to Petersburg. On the way he
+intended to visit all his estates and see for himself how far his orders
+had been carried out and in what state were the serfs whom God had
+entrusted to his care and whom he intended to benefit.
+
+The chief steward, who considered the young count's attempts almost
+insane--unprofitable to himself, to the count, and to the serfs--made
+some concessions. Continuing to represent the liberation of the serfs as
+impracticable, he arranged for the erection of large buildings--schools,
+hospitals, and asylums--on all the estates before the master arrived.
+Everywhere preparations were made not for ceremonious welcomes (which he
+knew Pierre would not like), but for just such gratefully religious
+ones, with offerings of icons and the bread and salt of hospitality, as,
+according to his understanding of his master, would touch and delude
+him.
+
+The southern spring, the comfortable rapid traveling in a Vienna
+carriage, and the solitude of the road, all had a gladdening effect on
+Pierre. The estates he had not before visited were each more picturesque
+than the other; the serfs everywhere seemed thriving and touchingly
+grateful for the benefits conferred on them. Everywhere were receptions,
+which though they embarrassed Pierre awakened a joyful feeling in the
+depth of his heart. In one place the peasants presented him with bread
+and salt and an icon of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, asking permission,
+as a mark of their gratitude for the benefits he had conferred on them,
+to build a new chantry to the church at their own expense in honor of
+Peter and Paul, his patron saints. In another place the women with
+infants in arms met him to thank him for releasing them from hard work.
+On a third estate the priest, bearing a cross, came to meet him
+surrounded by children whom, by the count's generosity, he was
+instructing in reading, writing, and religion. On all his estates Pierre
+saw with his own eyes brick buildings erected or in course of erection,
+all on one plan, for hospitals, schools, and almshouses, which were soon
+to be opened. Everywhere he saw the stewards' accounts, according to
+which the serfs' manorial labor had been diminished, and heard the
+touching thanks of deputations of serfs in their full-skirted blue
+coats.
+
+What Pierre did not know was that the place where they presented him
+with bread and salt and wished to build a chantry in honor of Peter and
+Paul was a market village where a fair was held on St. Peter's day, and
+that the richest peasants (who formed the deputation) had begun the
+chantry long before, but that nine tenths of the peasants in that
+villages were in a state of the greatest poverty. He did not know that
+since the nursing mothers were no longer sent to work on his land, they
+did still harder work on their own land. He did not know that the priest
+who met him with the cross oppressed the peasants by his exactions, and
+that the pupils' parents wept at having to let him take their children
+and secured their release by heavy payments. He did not know that the
+brick buildings, built to plan, were being built by serfs whose manorial
+labor was thus increased, though lessened on paper. He did not know that
+where the steward had shown him in the accounts that the serfs' payments
+had been diminished by a third, their obligatory manorial work had been
+increased by a half. And so Pierre was delighted with his visit to his
+estates and quite recovered the philanthropic mood in which he had left
+Petersburg, and wrote enthusiastic letters to his "brother-instructor"
+as he called the Grand Master.
+
+"How easy it is, how little effort it needs, to do so much good,"
+thought Pierre, "and how little attention we pay to it!"
+
+He was pleased at the gratitude he received, but felt abashed at
+receiving it. This gratitude reminded him of how much more he might do
+for these simple, kindly people.
+
+The chief steward, a very stupid but cunning man who saw perfectly
+through the naive and intelligent count and played with him as with a
+toy, seeing the effect these prearranged receptions had on Pierre,
+pressed him still harder with proofs of the impossibility and above all
+the uselessness of freeing the serfs, who were quite happy as it was.
+
+Pierre in his secret soul agreed with the steward that it would be
+difficult to imagine happier people, and that God only knew what would
+happen to them when they were free, but he insisted, though reluctantly,
+on what he thought right. The steward promised to do all in his power to
+carry out the count's wishes, seeing clearly that not only would the
+count never be able to find out whether all measures had been taken for
+the sale of the land and forests and to release them from the Land Bank,
+but would probably never even inquire and would never know that the
+newly erected buildings were standing empty and that the serfs continued
+to give in money and work all that other people's serfs gave--that is to
+say, all that could be got out of them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+Returning from his journey through South Russia in the happiest state of
+mind, Pierre carried out an intention he had long had of visiting his
+friend Bolkonski, whom he had not seen for two years.
+
+Bogucharovo lay in a flat uninteresting part of the country among fields
+and forests of fir and birch, which were partly cut down. The house lay
+behind a newly dug pond filled with water to the brink and with banks
+still bare of grass. It was at the end of a village that stretched along
+the highroad in the midst of a young copse in which were a few fir
+trees.
+
+The homestead consisted of a threshing floor, outhouses, stables, a
+bathhouse, a lodge, and a large brick house with semicircular facade
+still in course of construction. Round the house was a garden newly laid
+out. The fences and gates were new and solid; two fire pumps and a water
+cart, painted green, stood in a shed; the paths were straight, the
+bridges were strong and had handrails. Everything bore an impress of
+tidiness and good management. Some domestic serfs Pierre met, in reply
+to inquiries as to where the prince lived, pointed out a small newly
+built lodge close to the pond. Anton, a man who had looked after Prince
+Andrew in his boyhood, helped Pierre out of his carriage, said that the
+prince was at home, and showed him into a clean little anteroom.
+
+Pierre was struck by the modesty of the small though clean house after
+the brilliant surroundings in which he had last met his friend in
+Petersburg.
+
+He quickly entered the small reception room with its still-unplastered
+wooden walls redolent of pine, and would have gone farther, but Anton
+ran ahead on tiptoe and knocked at a door.
+
+"Well, what is it?" came a sharp, unpleasant voice.
+
+"A visitor," answered Anton.
+
+"Ask him to wait," and the sound was heard of a chair being pushed back.
+
+Pierre went with rapid steps to the door and suddenly came face to face
+with Prince Andrew, who came out frowning and looking old. Pierre
+embraced him and lifting his spectacles kissed his friend on the cheek
+and looked at him closely.
+
+"Well, I did not expect you, I am very glad," said Prince Andrew.
+
+Pierre said nothing; he looked fixedly at his friend with surprise. He
+was struck by the change in him. His words were kindly and there was a
+smile on his lips and face, but his eyes were dull and lifeless and in
+spite of his evident wish to do so he could not give them a joyous and
+glad sparkle. Prince Andrew had grown thinner, paler, and more manly-
+looking, but what amazed and estranged Pierre till he got used to it
+were his inertia and a wrinkle on his brow indicating prolonged
+concentration on some one thought.
+
+As is usually the case with people meeting after a prolonged separation,
+it was long before their conversation could settle on anything. They put
+questions and gave brief replies about things they knew ought to be
+talked over at length. At last the conversation gradually settled on
+some of the topics at first lightly touched on: their past life, plans
+for the future, Pierre's journeys and occupations, the war, and so on.
+The preoccupation and despondency which Pierre had noticed in his
+friend's look was now still more clearly expressed in the smile with
+which he listened to Pierre, especially when he spoke with joyful
+animation of the past or the future. It was as if Prince Andrew would
+have liked to sympathize with what Pierre was saying, but could not. The
+latter began to feel that it was in bad taste to speak of his
+enthusiasms, dreams, and hopes of happiness or goodness, in Prince
+Andrew's presence. He was ashamed to express his new masonic views,
+which had been particularly revived and strengthened by his late tour.
+He checked himself, fearing to seem naive, yet he felt an irresistible
+desire to show his friend as soon as possible that he was now a quite
+different, and better, Pierre than he had been in Petersburg.
+
+"I can't tell you how much I have lived through since then. I hardly
+know myself again."
+
+"Yes, we have altered much, very much, since then," said Prince Andrew.
+
+"Well, and you? What are your plans?"
+
+"Plans!" repeated Prince Andrew ironically. "My plans?" he said, as if
+astonished at the word. "Well, you see, I'm building. I mean to settle
+here altogether next year...."
+
+Pierre looked silently and searchingly into Prince Andrew's face, which
+had grown much older.
+
+"No, I meant to ask..." Pierre began, but Prince Andrew interrupted him.
+
+"But why talk of me?... Talk to me, yes, tell me about your travels and
+all you have been doing on your estates."
+
+Pierre began describing what he had done on his estates, trying as far
+as possible to conceal his own part in the improvements that had been
+made. Prince Andrew several times prompted Pierre's story of what he had
+been doing, as though it were all an old-time story, and he listened not
+only without interest but even as if ashamed of what Pierre was telling
+him.
+
+Pierre felt uncomfortable and even depressed in his friend's company and
+at last became silent.
+
+"I'll tell you what, my dear fellow," said Prince Andrew, who evidently
+also felt depressed and constrained with his visitor, "I am only
+bivouacking here and have just come to look round. I am going back to my
+sister today. I will introduce you to her. But of course you know her
+already," he said, evidently trying to entertain a visitor with whom he
+now found nothing in common. "We will go after dinner. And would you now
+like to look round my place?"
+
+They went out and walked about till dinnertime, talking of the political
+news and common acquaintances like people who do not know each other
+intimately. Prince Andrew spoke with some animation and interest only of
+the new homestead he was constructing and its buildings, but even here,
+while on the scaffolding, in the midst of a talk explaining the future
+arrangements of the house, he interrupted himself:
+
+"However, this is not at all interesting. Let us have dinner, and then
+we'll set off."
+
+At dinner, conversation turned on Pierre's marriage.
+
+"I was very much surprised when I heard of it," said Prince Andrew.
+
+Pierre blushed, as he always did when it was mentioned, and said
+hurriedly: "I will tell you some time how it all happened. But you know
+it is all over, and forever."
+
+"Forever?" said Prince Andrew. "Nothing's forever."
+
+"But you know how it all ended, don't you? You heard of the duel?"
+
+"And so you had to go through that too!"
+
+"One thing I thank God for is that I did not kill that man," said
+Pierre.
+
+"Why so?" asked Prince Andrew. "To kill a vicious dog is a very good
+thing really."
+
+"No, to kill a man is bad--wrong."
+
+"Why is it wrong?" urged Prince Andrew. "It is not given to man to know
+what is right and what is wrong. Men always did and always will err, and
+in nothing more than in what they consider right and wrong."
+
+"What does harm to another is wrong," said Pierre, feeling with pleasure
+that for the first time since his arrival Prince Andrew was roused, had
+begun to talk, and wanted to express what had brought him to his present
+state.
+
+"And who has told you what is bad for another man?" he asked.
+
+"Bad! Bad!" exclaimed Pierre. "We all know what is bad for ourselves."
+
+"Yes, we know that, but the harm I am conscious of in myself is
+something I cannot inflict on others," said Prince Andrew, growing more
+and more animated and evidently wishing to express his new outlook to
+Pierre. He spoke in French. "I only know two very real evils in life:
+remorse and illness. The only good is the absence of those evils. To
+live for myself avoiding those two evils is my whole philosophy now."
+
+"And love of one's neighbor, and self-sacrifice?" began Pierre. "No, I
+can't agree with you! To live only so as not to do evil and not to have
+to repent is not enough. I lived like that, I lived for myself and
+ruined my life. And only now when I am living, or at least trying"
+(Pierre's modesty made him correct himself) "to live for others, only
+now have I understood all the happiness of life. No, I shall not agree
+with you, and you do not really believe what you are saying." Prince
+Andrew looked silently at Pierre with an ironic smile.
+
+"When you see my sister, Princess Mary, you'll get on with her," he
+said. "Perhaps you are right for yourself," he added after a short
+pause, "but everyone lives in his own way. You lived for yourself and
+say you nearly ruined your life and only found happiness when you began
+living for others. I experienced just the reverse. I lived for glory.--
+And after all what is glory? The same love of others, a desire to do
+something for them, a desire for their approval.--So I lived for others,
+and not almost, but quite, ruined my life. And I have become calmer
+since I began to live only for myself."
+
+"But what do you mean by living only for yourself?" asked Pierre,
+growing excited. "What about your son, your sister, and your father?"
+
+"But that's just the same as myself--they are not others," explained
+Prince Andrew. "The others, one's neighbors, le prochain, as you and
+Princess Mary call it, are the chief source of all error and evil. Le
+prochain--your Kiev peasants to whom you want to do good."
+
+And he looked at Pierre with a mocking, challenging expression. He
+evidently wished to draw him on.
+
+"You are joking," replied Pierre, growing more and more excited. "What
+error or evil can there be in my wishing to do good, and even doing a
+little--though I did very little and did it very badly? What evil can
+there be in it if unfortunate people, our serfs, people like ourselves,
+were growing up and dying with no idea of God and truth beyond
+ceremonies and meaningless prayers and are now instructed in a
+comforting belief in future life, retribution, recompense, and
+consolation? What evil and error are there in it, if people were dying
+of disease without help while material assistance could so easily be
+rendered, and I supplied them with a doctor, a hospital, and an asylum
+for the aged? And is it not a palpable, unquestionable good if a
+peasant, or a woman with a baby, has no rest day or night and I give
+them rest and leisure?" said Pierre, hurrying and lisping. "And I have
+done that though badly and to a small extent; but I have done something
+toward it and you cannot persuade me that it was not a good action, and
+more than that, you can't make me believe that you do not think so
+yourself. And the main thing is," he continued, "that I know, and know
+for certain, that the enjoyment of doing this good is the only sure
+happiness in life."
+
+"Yes, if you put it like that it's quite a different matter," said
+Prince Andrew. "I build a house and lay out a garden, and you build
+hospitals. The one and the other may serve as a pastime. But what's
+right and what's good must be judged by one who knows all, but not by
+us. Well, you want an argument," he added, "come on then."
+
+They rose from the table and sat down in the entrance porch which served
+as a veranda.
+
+"Come, let's argue then," said Prince Andrew, "You talk of schools," he
+went on, crooking a finger, "education and so forth; that is, you want
+to raise him" (pointing to a peasant who passed by them taking off his
+cap) "from his animal condition and awaken in him spiritual needs, while
+it seems to me that animal happiness is the only happiness possible, and
+that is just what you want to deprive him of. I envy him, but you want
+to make him what I am, without giving him my means. Then you say,
+'lighten his toil.' But as I see it, physical labor is as essential to
+him, as much a condition of his existence, as mental activity is to you
+or me. You can't help thinking. I go to bed after two in the morning,
+thoughts come and I can't sleep but toss about till dawn, because I
+think and can't help thinking, just as he can't help plowing and mowing;
+if he didn't, he would go to the drink shop or fall ill. Just as I could
+not stand his terrible physical labor but should die of it in a week, so
+he could not stand my physical idleness, but would grow fat and die. The
+third thing--what else was it you talked about?" and Prince Andrew
+crooked a third finger. "Ah, yes, hospitals, medicine. He has a fit, he
+is dying, and you come and bleed him and patch him up. He will drag
+about as a cripple, a burden to everybody, for another ten years. It
+would be far easier and simpler for him to die. Others are being born
+and there are plenty of them as it is. It would be different if you
+grudged losing a laborer--that's how I regard him--but you want to cure
+him from love of him. And he does not want that. And besides, what a
+notion that medicine ever cured anyone! Killed them, yes!" said he,
+frowning angrily and turning away from Pierre.
+
+Prince Andrew expressed his ideas so clearly and distinctly that it was
+evident he had reflected on this subject more than once, and he spoke
+readily and rapidly like a man who has not talked for a long time. His
+glance became more animated as his conclusions became more hopeless.
+
+"Oh, that is dreadful, dreadful!" said Pierre. "I don't understand how
+one can live with such ideas. I had such moments myself not long ago, in
+Moscow and when traveling, but at such times I collapsed so that I don't
+live at all--everything seems hateful to me... myself most of all. Then
+I don't eat, don't wash... and how is it with you?..."
+
+"Why not wash? That is not cleanly," said Prince Andrew; "on the
+contrary one must try to make one's life as pleasant as possible. I'm
+alive, that is not my fault, so I must live out my life as best I can
+without hurting others."
+
+"But with such ideas what motive have you for living? One would sit
+without moving, undertaking nothing...."
+
+"Life as it is leaves one no peace. I should be thankful to do nothing,
+but here on the one hand the local nobility have done me the honor to
+choose me to be their marshal; it was all I could do to get out of it.
+They could not understand that I have not the necessary qualifications
+for it--the kind of good-natured, fussy shallowness necessary for the
+position. Then there's this house, which must be built in order to have
+a nook of one's own in which to be quiet. And now there's this
+recruiting."
+
+"Why aren't you serving in the army?"
+
+"After Austerlitz!" said Prince Andrew gloomily. "No, thank you very
+much! I have promised myself not to serve again in the active Russian
+army. And I won't--not even if Bonaparte were here at Smolensk
+threatening Bald Hills--even then I wouldn't serve in the Russian army!
+Well, as I was saying," he continued, recovering his composure, "now
+there's this recruiting. My father is chief in command of the Third
+District, and my only way of avoiding active service is to serve under
+him."
+
+"Then you are serving?"
+
+"I am."
+
+He paused a little while.
+
+"And why do you serve?"
+
+"Why, for this reason! My father is one of the most remarkable men of
+his time. But he is growing old, and though not exactly cruel he has too
+energetic a character. He is so accustomed to unlimited power that he is
+terrible, and now he has this authority of a commander-in-chief of the
+recruiting, granted by the Emperor. If I had been two hours late a
+fortnight ago he would have had a paymaster's clerk at Yukhnovna
+hanged," said Prince Andrew with a smile. "So I am serving because I
+alone have any influence with my father, and now and then can save him
+from actions which would torment him afterwards."
+
+"Well, there you see!"
+
+"Yes, but it is not as you imagine," Prince Andrew continued. "I did
+not, and do not, in the least care about that scoundrel of a clerk who
+had stolen some boots from the recruits; I should even have been very
+glad to see him hanged, but I was sorry for my father--that again is for
+myself."
+
+Prince Andrew grew more and more animated. His eyes glittered feverishly
+while he tried to prove to Pierre that in his actions there was no
+desire to do good to his neighbor.
+
+"There now, you wish to liberate your serfs," he continued; "that is a
+very good thing, but not for you--I don't suppose you ever had anyone
+flogged or sent to Siberia--and still less for your serfs. If they are
+beaten, flogged, or sent to Siberia, I don't suppose they are any the
+worse off. In Siberia they lead the same animal life, and the stripes on
+their bodies heal, and they are happy as before. But it is a good thing
+for proprietors who perish morally, bring remorse upon themselves,
+stifle this remorse and grow callous, as a result of being able to
+inflict punishments justly and unjustly. It is those people I pity, and
+for their sake I should like to liberate the serfs. You may not have
+seen, but I have seen, how good men brought up in those traditions of
+unlimited power, in time when they grow more irritable, become cruel and
+harsh, are conscious of it, but cannot restrain themselves and grow more
+and more miserable."
+
+Prince Andrew spoke so earnestly that Pierre could not help thinking
+that these thoughts had been suggested to Prince Andrew by his father's
+case.
+
+He did not reply.
+
+"So that's what I'm sorry for--human dignity, peace of mind, purity, and
+not the serfs' backs and foreheads, which, beat and shave as you may,
+always remain the same backs and foreheads."
+
+"No, no! A thousand times no! I shall never agree with you," said
+Pierre.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+In the evening Andrew and Pierre got into the open carriage and drove to
+Bald Hills. Prince Andrew, glancing at Pierre, broke the silence now and
+then with remarks which showed that he was in a good temper.
+
+Pointing to the fields, he spoke of the improvements he was making in
+his husbandry.
+
+Pierre remained gloomily silent, answering in monosyllables and
+apparently immersed in his own thoughts.
+
+He was thinking that Prince Andrew was unhappy, had gone astray, did not
+see the true light, and that he, Pierre, ought to aid, enlighten, and
+raise him. But as soon as he thought of what he should say, he felt that
+Prince Andrew with one word, one argument, would upset all his teaching,
+and he shrank from beginning, afraid of exposing to possible ridicule
+what to him was precious and sacred.
+
+"No, but why do you think so?" Pierre suddenly began, lowering his head
+and looking like a bull about to charge, "why do you think so? You
+should not think so."
+
+"Think? What about?" asked Prince Andrew with surprise.
+
+"About life, about man's destiny. It can't be so. I myself thought like
+that, and do you know what saved me? Freemasonry! No, don't smile.
+Freemasonry is not a religious ceremonial sect, as I thought it was:
+Freemasonry is the best expression of the best, the eternal, aspects of
+humanity."
+
+And he began to explain Freemasonry as he understood it to Prince
+Andrew. He said that Freemasonry is the teaching of Christianity freed
+from the bonds of State and Church, a teaching of equality, brotherhood,
+and love.
+
+"Only our holy brotherhood has the real meaning of life, all the rest is
+a dream," said Pierre. "Understand, my dear fellow, that outside this
+union all is filled with deceit and falsehood and I agree with you that
+nothing is left for an intelligent and good man but to live out his
+life, like you, merely trying not to harm others. But make our
+fundamental convictions your own, join our brotherhood, give yourself up
+to us, let yourself be guided, and you will at once feel yourself, as I
+have felt myself, a part of that vast invisible chain the beginning of
+which is hidden in heaven," said Pierre.
+
+Prince Andrew, looking straight in front of him, listened in silence to
+Pierre's words. More than once, when the noise of the wheels prevented
+his catching what Pierre said, he asked him to repeat it, and by the
+peculiar glow that came into Prince Andrew's eyes and by his silence,
+Pierre saw that his words were not in vain and that Prince Andrew would
+not interrupt him or laugh at what he said.
+
+They reached a river that had overflowed its banks and which they had to
+cross by ferry. While the carriage and horses were being placed on it,
+they also stepped on the raft.
+
+Prince Andrew, leaning his arms on the raft railing, gazed silently at
+the flooding waters glittering in the setting sun.
+
+"Well, what do you think about it?" Pierre asked. "Why are you silent?"
+
+"What do I think about it? I am listening to you. It's all very well....
+You say: join our brotherhood and we will show you the aim of life, the
+destiny of man, and the laws which govern the world. But who are we?
+Men. How is it you know everything? Why do I alone not see what you see?
+You see a reign of goodness and truth on earth, but I don't see it."
+
+Pierre interrupted him.
+
+"Do you believe in a future life?" he asked.
+
+"A future life?" Prince Andrew repeated, but Pierre, giving him no time
+to reply, took the repetition for a denial, the more readily as he knew
+Prince Andrew's former atheistic convictions.
+
+"You say you can't see a reign of goodness and truth on earth. Nor could
+I, and it cannot be seen if one looks on our life here as the end of
+everything. On earth, here on this earth" (Pierre pointed to the
+fields), "there is no truth, all is false and evil; but in the universe,
+in the whole universe there is a kingdom of truth, and we who are now
+the children of earth are--eternally--children of the whole universe.
+Don't I feel in my soul that I am part of this vast harmonious whole?
+Don't I feel that I form one link, one step, between the lower and
+higher beings, in this vast harmonious multitude of beings in whom the
+Deity--the Supreme Power if you prefer the term--is manifest? If I see,
+clearly see, that ladder leading from plant to man, why should I suppose
+it breaks off at me and does not go farther and farther? I feel that I
+cannot vanish, since nothing vanishes in this world, but that I shall
+always exist and always have existed. I feel that beyond me and above me
+there are spirits, and that in this world there is truth."
+
+"Yes, that is Herder's theory," said Prince Andrew, "but it is not that
+which can convince me, dear friend--life and death are what convince.
+What convinces is when one sees a being dear to one, bound up with one's
+own life, before whom one was to blame and had hoped to make it right"
+(Prince Andrew's voice trembled and he turned away), "and suddenly that
+being is seized with pain, suffers, and ceases to exist.... Why? It
+cannot be that there is no answer. And I believe there is.... That's
+what convinces, that is what has convinced me," said Prince Andrew.
+
+"Yes, yes, of course," said Pierre, "isn't that what I'm saying?"
+
+"No. All I say is that it is not argument that convinces me of the
+necessity of a future life, but this: when you go hand in hand with
+someone and all at once that person vanishes there, into nowhere, and
+you yourself are left facing that abyss, and look in. And I have looked
+in...."
+
+"Well, that's it then! You know that there is a there and there is a
+Someone? There is the future life. The Someone is--God."
+
+Prince Andrew did not reply. The carriage and horses had long since been
+taken off, onto the farther bank, and reharnessed. The sun had sunk half
+below the horizon and an evening frost was starring the puddles near the
+ferry, but Pierre and Andrew, to the astonishment of the footmen,
+coachmen, and ferrymen, still stood on the raft and talked.
+
+"If there is a God and future life, there is truth and good, and man's
+highest happiness consists in striving to attain them. We must live, we
+must love, and we must believe that we live not only today on this scrap
+of earth, but have lived and shall live forever, there, in the Whole,"
+said Pierre, and he pointed to the sky.
+
+Prince Andrew stood leaning on the railing of the raft listening to
+Pierre, and he gazed with his eyes fixed on the red reflection of the
+sun gleaming on the blue waters. There was perfect stillness. Pierre
+became silent. The raft had long since stopped and only the waves of the
+current beat softly against it below. Prince Andrew felt as if the sound
+of the waves kept up a refrain to Pierre's words, whispering:
+
+"It is true, believe it."
+
+He sighed, and glanced with a radiant, childlike, tender look at
+Pierre's face, flushed and rapturous, but yet shy before his superior
+friend.
+
+"Yes, if it only were so!" said Prince Andrew. "However, it is time to
+get on," he added, and, stepping off the raft, he looked up at the sky
+to which Pierre had pointed, and for the first time since Austerlitz saw
+that high, everlasting sky he had seen while lying on that battlefield;
+and something that had long been slumbering, something that was best
+within him, suddenly awoke, joyful and youthful, in his soul. It
+vanished as soon as he returned to the customary conditions of his life,
+but he knew that this feeling which he did not know how to develop
+existed within him. His meeting with Pierre formed an epoch in Prince
+Andrew's life. Though outwardly he continued to live in the same old
+way, inwardly he began a new life.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+It was getting dusk when Prince Andrew and Pierre drove up to the front
+entrance of the house at Bald Hills. As they approached the house,
+Prince Andrew with a smile drew Pierre's attention to a commotion going
+on at the back porch. A woman, bent with age, with a wallet on her back,
+and a short, long-haired, young man in a black garment had rushed back
+to the gate on seeing the carriage driving up. Two women ran out after
+them, and all four, looking round at the carriage, ran in dismay up the
+steps of the back porch.
+
+"Those are Mary's 'God's folk,'" said Prince Andrew. "They have mistaken
+us for my father. This is the one matter in which she disobeys him. He
+orders these pilgrims to be driven away, but she receives them."
+
+"But what are 'God's folk'?" asked Pierre.
+
+Prince Andrew had no time to answer. The servants came out to meet them,
+and he asked where the old prince was and whether he was expected back
+soon.
+
+The old prince had gone to the town and was expected back any minute.
+
+Prince Andrew led Pierre to his own apartments, which were always kept
+in perfect order and readiness for him in his father's house; he himself
+went to the nursery.
+
+"Let us go and see my sister," he said to Pierre when he returned. "I
+have not found her yet, she is hiding now, sitting with her 'God's
+folk.' It will serve her right, she will be confused, but you will see
+her 'God's folk.' It's really very curious."
+
+"What are 'God's folk'?" asked Pierre.
+
+"Come, and you'll see for yourself."
+
+Princess Mary really was disconcerted and red patches came on her face
+when they went in. In her snug room, with lamps burning before the icon
+stand, a young lad with a long nose and long hair, wearing a monk's
+cassock, sat on the sofa beside her, behind a samovar. Near them, in an
+armchair, sat a thin, shriveled, old woman, with a meek expression on
+her childlike face.
+
+"Andrew, why didn't you warn me?" said the princess, with mild reproach,
+as she stood before her pilgrims like a hen before her chickens.
+
+"Charmee de vous voir. Je suis tres contente de vous voir," * she said
+to Pierre as he kissed her hand. She had known him as a child, and now
+his friendship with Andrew, his misfortune with his wife, and above all
+his kindly, simple face disposed her favorably toward him. She looked at
+him with her beautiful radiant eyes and seemed to say, "I like you very
+much, but please don't laugh at my people." After exchanging the first
+greetings, they sat down.
+
+
+* "Delighted to see you. I am very glad to see you."
+
+"Ah, and Ivanushka is here too!" said Prince Andrew, glancing with a
+smile at the young pilgrim.
+
+"Andrew!" said Princess Mary, imploringly. "Il faut que vous sachiez que
+c'est une femme," * said Prince Andrew to Pierre.
+
+"Andrew, au nom de Dieu!" *(2) Princess Mary repeated.
+
+
+* "You must know that this is a woman."
+
+* (2) "For heaven's sake."
+
+It was evident that Prince Andrew's ironical tone toward the pilgrims
+and Princess Mary's helpless attempts to protect them were their
+customary long-established relations on the matter.
+
+"Mais, ma bonne amie," said Prince Andrew, "vous devriez au contraire
+m'être reconnaissante de ce que j'explique a Pierre votre intimité avec
+ce jeune homme." *
+
+
+* "But, my dear, you ought on the contrary to be grateful to me for
+explaining to Pierre your intimacy with this young man."
+
+"Really?" said Pierre, gazing over his spectacles with curiosity and
+seriousness (for which Princess Mary was specially grateful to him) into
+Ivanushka's face, who, seeing that she was being spoken about, looked
+round at them all with crafty eyes.
+
+Princess Mary's embarrassment on her people's account was quite
+unnecessary. They were not in the least abashed. The old woman, lowering
+her eyes but casting side glances at the newcomers, had turned her cup
+upside down and placed a nibbled bit of sugar beside it, and sat quietly
+in her armchair, though hoping to be offered another cup of tea.
+Ivanushka, sipping out of her saucer, looked with sly womanish eyes from
+under her brows at the young men.
+
+"Where have you been? To Kiev?" Prince Andrew asked the old woman.
+
+"I have, good sir," she answered garrulously. "Just at Christmastime I
+was deemed worthy to partake of the holy and heavenly sacrament at the
+shrine of the saint. And now I'm from Kolyazin, master, where a great
+and wonderful blessing has been revealed."
+
+"And was Ivanushka with you?"
+
+"I go by myself, benefactor," said Ivanushka, trying to speak in a bass
+voice. "I only came across Pelageya in Yukhnovo..."
+
+Pelageya interrupted her companion; she evidently wished to tell what
+she had seen.
+
+"In Kolyazin, master, a wonderful blessing has been revealed."
+
+"What is it? Some new relics?" asked Prince Andrew.
+
+"Andrew, do leave off," said Princess Mary. "Don't tell him, Pelageya."
+
+"No... why not, my dear, why shouldn't I? I like him. He is kind, he is
+one of God's chosen, he's a benefactor, he once gave me ten rubles, I
+remember. When I was in Kiev, Crazy Cyril says to me (he's one of God's
+own and goes barefoot summer and winter), he says, 'Why are you not
+going to the right place? Go to Kolyazin where a wonder-working icon of
+the Holy Mother of God has been revealed.' On hearing those words I said
+good-by to the holy folk and went."
+
+All were silent, only the pilgrim woman went on in measured tones,
+drawing in her breath.
+
+"So I come, master, and the people say to me: 'A great blessing has been
+revealed, holy oil trickles from the cheeks of our blessed Mother, the
+Holy Virgin Mother of God'...."
+
+"All right, all right, you can tell us afterwards," said Princess Mary,
+flushing.
+
+"Let me ask her," said Pierre. "Did you see it yourselves?" he inquired.
+
+"Oh, yes, master, I was found worthy. Such a brightness on the face like
+the light of heaven, and from the blessed Mother's cheek it drops and
+drops...."
+
+"But, dear me, that must be a fraud!" said Pierre, naively, who had
+listened attentively to the pilgrim.
+
+"Oh, master, what are you saying?" exclaimed the horrified Pelageya,
+turning to Princess Mary for support.
+
+"They impose on the people," he repeated.
+
+"Lord Jesus Christ!" exclaimed the pilgrim woman, crossing herself. "Oh,
+don't speak so, master! There was a general who did not believe, and
+said, 'The monks cheat,' and as soon as he'd said it he went blind. And
+he dreamed that the Holy Virgin Mother of the Kiev catacombs came to him
+and said, 'Believe in me and I will make you whole.' So he begged: 'Take
+me to her, take me to her.' It's the real truth I'm telling you, I saw
+it myself. So he was brought, quite blind, straight to her, and he goes
+up to her and falls down and says, 'Make me whole,' says he, 'and I'll
+give thee what the Tsar bestowed on me.' I saw it myself, master, the
+star is fixed into the icon. Well, and what do you think? He received
+his sight! It's a sin to speak so. God will punish you," she said
+admonishingly, turning to Pierre.
+
+"How did the star get into the icon?" Pierre asked.
+
+"And was the Holy Mother promoted to the rank of general?" said Prince
+Andrew, with a smile.
+
+Pelageya suddenly grew quite pale and clasped her hands.
+
+"Oh, master, master, what a sin! And you who have a son!" she began, her
+pallor suddenly turning to a vivid red. "Master, what have you said? God
+forgive you!" And she crossed herself. "Lord forgive him! My dear, what
+does it mean?..." she asked, turning to Princess Mary. She got up and,
+almost crying, began to arrange her wallet. She evidently felt
+frightened and ashamed to have accepted charity in a house where such
+things could be said, and was at the same time sorry to have now to
+forgo the charity of this house.
+
+"Now, why need you do it?" said Princess Mary. "Why did you come to
+me?..."
+
+"Come, Pelageya, I was joking," said Pierre. "Princesse, ma parole, je
+n'ai pas voulu l'offenser. * I did not mean anything, I was only
+joking," he said, smiling shyly and trying to efface his offense. "It
+was all my fault, and Andrew was only joking."
+
+
+* "Princess, on my word, I did not wish to offend her."
+
+Pelageya stopped doubtfully, but in Pierre's face there was such a look
+of sincere penitence, and Prince Andrew glanced so meekly now at her and
+now at Pierre, that she was gradually reassured.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+The pilgrim woman was appeased and, being encouraged to talk, gave a
+long account of Father Amphilochus, who led so holy a life that his
+hands smelled of incense, and how on her last visit to Kiev some monks
+she knew let her have the keys of the catacombs, and how she, taking
+some dried bread with her, had spent two days in the catacombs with the
+saints. "I'd pray awhile to one, ponder awhile, then go on to another.
+I'd sleep a bit and then again go and kiss the relics, and there was
+such peace all around, such blessedness, that one don't want to come
+out, even into the light of heaven again."
+
+Pierre listened to her attentively and seriously. Prince Andrew went out
+of the room, and then, leaving "God's folk" to finish their tea,
+Princess Mary took Pierre into the drawing room.
+
+"You are very kind," she said to him.
+
+"Oh, I really did not mean to hurt her feelings. I understand them so
+well and have the greatest respect for them."
+
+Princess Mary looked at him silently and smiled affectionately.
+
+"I have known you a long time, you see, and am as fond of you as of a
+brother," she said. "How do you find Andrew?" she added hurriedly, not
+giving him time to reply to her affectionate words. "I am very anxious
+about him. His health was better in the winter, but last spring his
+wound reopened and the doctor said he ought to go away for a cure. And I
+am also very much afraid for him spiritually. He has not a character
+like us women who, when we suffer, can weep away our sorrows. He keeps
+it all within him. Today he is cheerful and in good spirits, but that is
+the effect of your visit--he is not often like that. If you could
+persuade him to go abroad. He needs activity, and this quiet regular
+life is very bad for him. Others don't notice it, but I see it."
+
+Toward ten o'clock the men servants rushed to the front door, hearing
+the bells of the old prince's carriage approaching. Prince Andrew and
+Pierre also went out into the porch.
+
+"Who's that?" asked the old prince, noticing Pierre as he got out of the
+carriage.
+
+"Ah! Very glad! Kiss me," he said, having learned who the young stranger
+was.
+
+The old prince was in a good temper and very gracious to Pierre.
+
+Before supper, Prince Andrew, coming back to his father's study, found
+him disputing hotly with his visitor. Pierre was maintaining that a time
+would come when there would be no more wars. The old prince disputed it
+chaffingly, but without getting angry.
+
+"Drain the blood from men's veins and put in water instead, then there
+will be no more war! Old women's nonsense--old women's nonsense!" he
+repeated, but still he patted Pierre affectionately on the shoulder, and
+then went up to the table where Prince Andrew, evidently not wishing to
+join in the conversation, was looking over the papers his father had
+brought from town. The old prince went up to him and began to talk
+business.
+
+"The marshal, a Count Rostov, hasn't sent half his contingent. He came
+to town and wanted to invite me to dinner--I gave him a pretty
+dinner!... And there, look at this.... Well, my boy," the old prince
+went on, addressing his son and patting Pierre on the shoulder. "A fine
+fellow--your friend--I like him! He stirs me up. Another says clever
+things and one doesn't care to listen, but this one talks rubbish yet
+stirs an old fellow up. Well, go! Get along! Perhaps I'll come and sit
+with you at supper. We'll have another dispute. Make friends with my
+little fool, Princess Mary," he shouted after Pierre, through the door.
+
+Only now, on his visit to Bald Hills, did Pierre fully realize the
+strength and charm of his friendship with Prince Andrew. That charm was
+not expressed so much in his relations with him as with all his family
+and with the household. With the stern old prince and the gentle, timid
+Princess Mary, though he had scarcely known them, Pierre at once felt
+like an old friend. They were all fond of him already. Not only Princess
+Mary, who had been won by his gentleness with the pilgrims, gave him her
+most radiant looks, but even the one-year-old "Prince Nicholas" (as his
+grandfather called him) smiled at Pierre and let himself be taken in his
+arms, and Michael Ivanovich and Mademoiselle Bourienne looked at him
+with pleasant smiles when he talked to the old prince.
+
+The old prince came in to supper; this was evidently on Pierre's
+account. And during the two days of the young man's visit he was
+extremely kind to him and told him to visit them again.
+
+When Pierre had gone and the members of the household met together, they
+began to express their opinions of him as people always do after a new
+acquaintance has left, but as seldom happens, no one said anything but
+what was good of him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+When returning from his leave, Rostov felt, for the first time, how
+close was the bond that united him to Denisov and the whole regiment.
+
+On approaching it, Rostov felt as he had done when approaching his home
+in Moscow. When he saw the first hussar with the unbuttoned uniform of
+his regiment, when he recognized red-haired Dementyev and saw the picket
+ropes of the roan horses, when Lavrushka gleefully shouted to his
+master, "The count has come!" and Denisov, who had been asleep on his
+bed, ran all disheveled out of the mud hut to embrace him, and the
+officers collected round to greet the new arrival, Rostov experienced
+the same feeling as when his mother, his father, and his sister had
+embraced him, and tears of joy choked him so that he could not speak.
+The regiment was also a home, and as unalterably dear and precious as
+his parents' house.
+
+When he had reported himself to the commander of the regiment and had
+been reassigned to his former squadron, had been on duty and had gone
+out foraging, when he had again entered into all the little interests of
+the regiment and felt himself deprived of liberty and bound in one
+narrow, unchanging frame, he experienced the same sense of peace, of
+moral support, and the same sense of being at home here in his own
+place, as he had felt under the parental roof. But here was none of all
+that turmoil of the world at large, where he did not know his right
+place and took mistaken decisions; here was no Sonya with whom he ought,
+or ought not, to have an explanation; here was no possibility of going
+there or not going there; here there were not twenty-four hours in the
+day which could be spent in such a variety of ways; there was not that
+innumerable crowd of people of whom not one was nearer to him or farther
+from him than another; there were none of those uncertain and undefined
+money relations with his father, and nothing to recall that terrible
+loss to Dolokhov. Here, in the regiment, all was clear and simple. The
+whole world was divided into two unequal parts: one, our Pavlograd
+regiment; the other, all the rest. And the rest was no concern of his.
+In the regiment, everything was definite: who was lieutenant, who
+captain, who was a good fellow, who a bad one, and most of all, who was
+a comrade. The canteenkeeper gave one credit, one's pay came every four
+months, there was nothing to think out or decide, you had only to do
+nothing that was considered bad in the Pavlograd regiment and, when
+given an order, to do what was clearly, distinctly, and definitely
+ordered--and all would be well.
+
+Having once more entered into the definite conditions of this regimental
+life, Rostov felt the joy and relief a tired man feels on lying down to
+rest. Life in the regiment, during this campaign, was all the pleasanter
+for him, because, after his loss to Dolokhov (for which, in spite of all
+his family's efforts to console him, he could not forgive himself), he
+had made up his mind to atone for his fault by serving, not as he had
+done before, but really well, and by being a perfectly first-rate
+comrade and officer--in a word, a splendid man altogether, a thing which
+seemed so difficult out in the world, but so possible in the regiment.
+
+After his losses, he had determined to pay back his debt to his parents
+in five years. He received ten thousand rubles a year, but now resolved
+to take only two thousand and leave the rest to repay the debt to his
+parents.
+
+Our army, after repeated retreats and advances and battles at Pultusk
+and Preussisch-Eylau, was concentrated near Bartenstein. It was awaiting
+the Emperor's arrival and the beginning of a new campaign.
+
+The Pavlograd regiment, belonging to that part of the army which had
+served in the 1805 campaign, had been recruiting up to strength in
+Russia, and arrived too late to take part in the first actions of the
+campaign. It had been neither at Pultusk nor at Preussisch-Eylau and,
+when it joined the army in the field in the second half of the campaign,
+was attached to Platov's division.
+
+Platov's division was acting independently of the main army. Several
+times parts of the Pavlograd regiment had exchanged shots with the
+enemy, had taken prisoners, and once had even captured Marshal Oudinot's
+carriages. In April the Pavlograds were stationed immovably for some
+weeks near a totally ruined and deserted German village.
+
+A thaw had set in, it was muddy and cold, the ice on the river broke,
+and the roads became impassable. For days neither provisions for the men
+nor fodder for the horses had been issued. As no transports could
+arrive, the men dispersed about the abandoned and deserted villages,
+searching for potatoes, but found few even of these.
+
+Everything had been eaten up and the inhabitants had all fled--if any
+remained, they were worse than beggars and nothing more could be taken
+from them; even the soldiers, usually pitiless enough, instead of taking
+anything from them, often gave them the last of their rations.
+
+The Pavlograd regiment had had only two men wounded in action, but had
+lost nearly half its men from hunger and sickness. In the hospitals,
+death was so certain that soldiers suffering from fever, or the swelling
+that came from bad food, preferred to remain on duty, and hardly able to
+drag their legs went to the front rather than to the hospitals. When
+spring came on, the soldiers found a plant just showing out of the
+ground that looked like asparagus, which, for some reason, they called
+"Mashka's sweet root." It was very bitter, but they wandered about the
+fields seeking it and dug it out with their sabers and ate it, though
+they were ordered not to do so, as it was a noxious plant. That spring a
+new disease broke out among the soldiers, a swelling of the arms, legs,
+and face, which the doctors attributed to eating this root. But in spite
+of all this, the soldiers of Denisov's squadron fed chiefly on "Mashka's
+sweet root," because it was the second week that the last of the
+biscuits were being doled out at the rate of half a pound a man and the
+last potatoes received had sprouted and frozen.
+
+The horses also had been fed for a fortnight on straw from the thatched
+roofs and had become terribly thin, though still covered with tufts of
+felty winter hair.
+
+Despite this destitution, the soldiers and officers went on living just
+as usual. Despite their pale swollen faces and tattered uniforms, the
+hussars formed line for roll call, kept things in order, groomed their
+horses, polished their arms, brought in straw from the thatched roofs in
+place of fodder, and sat down to dine round the caldrons from which they
+rose up hungry, joking about their nasty food and their hunger. As
+usual, in their spare time, they lit bonfires, steamed themselves before
+them naked; smoked, picked out and baked sprouting rotten potatoes, told
+and listened to stories of Potemkin's and Suvorov's campaigns, or to
+legends of Alesha the Sly, or the priest's laborer Mikolka.
+
+The officers, as usual, lived in twos and threes in the roofless, half-
+ruined houses. The seniors tried to collect straw and potatoes and, in
+general, food for the men. The younger ones occupied themselves as
+before, some playing cards (there was plenty of money, though there was
+no food), some with more innocent games, such as quoits and skittles.
+The general trend of the campaign was rarely spoken of, partly because
+nothing certain was known about it, partly because there was a vague
+feeling that in the main it was going badly.
+
+Rostov lived, as before, with Denisov, and since their furlough they had
+become more friendly than ever. Denisov never spoke of Rostov's family,
+but by the tender friendship his commander showed him, Rostov felt that
+the elder hussar's luckless love for Natasha played a part in
+strengthening their friendship. Denisov evidently tried to expose Rostov
+to danger as seldom as possible, and after an action greeted his safe
+return with evident joy. On one of his foraging expeditions, in a
+deserted and ruined village to which he had come in search of
+provisions, Rostov found a family consisting of an old Pole and his
+daughter with an infant in arms. They were half clad, hungry, too weak
+to get away on foot and had no means of obtaining a conveyance. Rostov
+brought them to his quarters, placed them in his own lodging, and kept
+them for some weeks while the old man was recovering. One of his
+comrades, talking of women, began chaffing Rostov, saying that he was
+more wily than any of them and that it would not be a bad thing if he
+introduced to them the pretty Polish girl he had saved. Rostov took the
+joke as an insult, flared up, and said such unpleasant things to the
+officer that it was all Denisov could do to prevent a duel. When the
+officer had gone away, Denisov, who did not himself know what Rostov's
+relations with the Polish girl might be, began to upbraid him for his
+quickness of temper, and Rostov replied:
+
+"Say what you like.... She is like a sister to me, and I can't tell you
+how it offended me... because... well, for that reason...."
+
+Denisov patted him on the shoulder and began rapidly pacing the room
+without looking at Rostov, as was his way at moments of deep feeling.
+
+"Ah, what a mad bweed you Wostovs are!" he muttered, and Rostov noticed
+tears in his eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+In April the troops were enlivened by news of the Emperor's arrival, but
+Rostov had no chance of being present at the review he held at
+Bartenstein, as the Pavlograds were at the outposts far beyond that
+place.
+
+They were bivouacking. Denisov and Rostov were living in an earth hut,
+dug out for them by the soldiers and roofed with branches and turf. The
+hut was made in the following manner, which had then come into vogue. A
+trench was dug three and a half feet wide, four feet eight inches deep,
+and eight feet long. At one end of the trench, steps were cut out and
+these formed the entrance and vestibule. The trench itself was the room,
+in which the lucky ones, such as the squadron commander, had a board,
+lying on piles at the end opposite the entrance, to serve as a table. On
+each side of the trench, the earth was cut out to a breadth of about two
+and a half feet, and this did duty for bedsteads and couches. The roof
+was so constructed that one could stand up in the middle of the trench
+and could even sit up on the beds if one drew close to the table.
+Denisov, who was living luxuriously because the soldiers of his squadron
+liked him, had also a board in the roof at the farther end, with a piece
+of (broken but mended) glass in it for a window. When it was very cold,
+embers from the soldiers' campfire were placed on a bent sheet of iron
+on the steps in the "reception room"--as Denisov called that part of the
+hut--and it was then so warm that the officers, of whom there were
+always some with Denisov and Rostov, sat in their shirt sleeves.
+
+In April, Rostov was on orderly duty. One morning, between seven and
+eight, returning after a sleepless night, he sent for embers, changed
+his rain-soaked underclothes, said his prayers, drank tea, got warm,
+then tidied up the things on the table and in his own corner, and, his
+face glowing from exposure to the wind and with nothing on but his
+shirt, lay down on his back, putting his arms under his head. He was
+pleasantly considering the probability of being promoted in a few days
+for his last reconnoitering expedition, and was awaiting Denisov, who
+had gone out somewhere and with whom he wanted a talk.
+
+Suddenly he heard Denisov shouting in a vibrating voice behind the hut,
+evidently much excited. Rostov moved to the window to see whom he was
+speaking to, and saw the quartermaster, Topcheenko.
+
+"I ordered you not to let them eat that Mashka woot stuff!" Denisov was
+shouting. "And I saw with my own eyes how Lazarchuk bwought some fwom
+the fields."
+
+"I have given the order again and again, your honor, but they don't
+obey," answered the quartermaster.
+
+Rostov lay down again on his bed and thought complacently: "Let him fuss
+and bustle now, my job's done and I'm lying down--capitally!" He could
+hear that Lavrushka--that sly, bold orderly of Denisov's--was talking,
+as well as the quartermaster. Lavrushka was saying something about
+loaded wagons, biscuits, and oxen he had seen when he had gone out for
+provisions.
+
+Then Denisov's voice was heard shouting farther and farther away.
+"Saddle! Second platoon!"
+
+"Where are they off to now?" thought Rostov.
+
+Five minutes later, Denisov came into the hut, climbed with muddy boots
+on the bed, lit his pipe, furiously scattered his things about, took his
+leaded whip, buckled on his saber, and went out again. In answer to
+Rostov's inquiry where he was going, he answered vaguely and crossly
+that he had some business.
+
+"Let God and our gweat monarch judge me afterwards!" said Denisov going
+out, and Rostov heard the hoofs of several horses splashing through the
+mud. He did not even trouble to find out where Denisov had gone. Having
+got warm in his corner, he fell asleep and did not leave the hut till
+toward evening. Denisov had not yet returned. The weather had cleared
+up, and near the next hut two officers and a cadet were playing svayka,
+laughing as they threw their missiles which buried themselves in the
+soft mud. Rostov joined them. In the middle of the game, the officers
+saw some wagons approaching with fifteen hussars on their skinny horses
+behind them. The wagons escorted by the hussars drew up to the picket
+ropes and a crowd of hussars surrounded them.
+
+"There now, Denisov has been worrying," said Rostov, "and here are the
+provisions."
+
+"So they are!" said the officers. "Won't the soldiers be glad!"
+
+A little behind the hussars came Denisov, accompanied by two infantry
+officers with whom he was talking.
+
+Rostov went to meet them.
+
+"I warn you, Captain," one of the officers, a short thin man, evidently
+very angry, was saying.
+
+"Haven't I told you I won't give them up?" replied Denisov.
+
+"You will answer for it, Captain. It is mutiny--seizing the transport of
+one's own army. Our men have had nothing to eat for two days."
+
+"And mine have had nothing for two weeks," said Denisov.
+
+"It is robbery! You'll answer for it, sir!" said the infantry officer,
+raising his voice.
+
+"Now, what are you pestewing me for?" cried Denisov, suddenly losing his
+temper. "I shall answer for it and not you, and you'd better not buzz
+about here till you get hurt. Be off! Go!" he shouted at the officers.
+
+"Very well, then!" shouted the little officer, undaunted and not riding
+away. "If you are determined to rob, I'll..."
+
+"Go to the devil! quick ma'ch, while you're safe and sound!" and Denisov
+turned his horse on the officer.
+
+"Very well, very well!" muttered the officer, threateningly, and turning
+his horse he trotted away, jolting in his saddle.
+
+"A dog astwide a fence! A weal dog astwide a fence!" shouted Denisov
+after him (the most insulting expression a cavalryman can address to a
+mounted infantryman) and riding up to Rostov, he burst out laughing.
+
+"I've taken twansports from the infantwy by force!" he said. "After all,
+can't let our men starve."
+
+The wagons that had reached the hussars had been consigned to an
+infantry regiment, but learning from Lavrushka that the transport was
+unescorted, Denisov with his hussars had seized it by force. The
+soldiers had biscuits dealt out to them freely, and they even shared
+them with the other squadrons.
+
+The next day the regimental commander sent for Denisov, and holding his
+fingers spread out before his eyes said:
+
+"This is how I look at this affair: I know nothing about it and won't
+begin proceedings, but I advise you to ride over to the staff and settle
+the business there in the commissariat department and if possible sign a
+receipt for such and such stores received. If not, as the demand was
+booked against an infantry regiment, there will be a row and the affair
+may end badly."
+
+From the regimental commander's, Denisov rode straight to the staff with
+a sincere desire to act on this advice. In the evening he came back to
+his dugout in a state such as Rostov had never yet seen him in. Denisov
+could not speak and gasped for breath. When Rostov asked what was the
+matter, he only uttered some incoherent oaths and threats in a hoarse,
+feeble voice.
+
+Alarmed at Denisov's condition, Rostov suggested that he should undress,
+drink some water, and send for the doctor.
+
+"Twy me for wobbewy... oh! Some more water... Let them twy me, but I'll
+always thwash scoundwels... and I'll tell the Empewo'... Ice..." he
+muttered.
+
+The regimental doctor, when he came, said it was absolutely necessary to
+bleed Denisov. A deep saucer of black blood was taken from his hairy arm
+and only then was he able to relate what had happened to him.
+
+"I get there," began Denisov. "'Now then, where's your chief's
+quarters?' They were pointed out. 'Please to wait.' 'I've widden twenty
+miles and have duties to attend to and no time to wait. Announce me.'
+Vewy well, so out comes their head chief--also took it into his head to
+lecture me: 'It's wobbewy!'--'Wobbewy,' I say, 'is not done by man who
+seizes pwovisions to feed his soldiers, but by him who takes them to
+fill his own pockets!' 'Will you please be silent?' 'Vewy good!' Then he
+says: 'Go and give a weceipt to the commissioner, but your affair will
+be passed on to headquarters.' I go to the commissioner. I enter, and at
+the table... who do you think? No, but wait a bit!... Who is it that's
+starving us?" shouted Denisov, hitting the table with the fist of his
+newly bled arm so violently that the table nearly broke down and the
+tumblers on it jumped about. "Telyanin! 'What? So it's you who's
+starving us to death! Is it? Take this and this!' and I hit him so pat,
+stwaight on his snout... 'Ah, what a... what a...!' and I sta'ted
+fwashing him... Well, I've had a bit of fun I can tell you!" cried
+Denisov, gleeful and yet angry, his white teeth showing under his black
+mustache. "I'd have killed him if they hadn't taken him away!"
+
+"But what are you shouting for? Calm yourself," said Rostov. "You've set
+your arm bleeding afresh. Wait, we must tie it up again."
+
+Denisov was bandaged up again and put to bed. Next day he woke calm and
+cheerful.
+
+But at noon the adjutant of the regiment came into Rostov's and
+Denisov's dugout with a grave and serious face and regretfully showed
+them a paper addressed to Major Denisov from the regimental commander in
+which inquiries were made about yesterday's occurrence. The adjutant
+told them that the affair was likely to take a very bad turn: that a
+court-martial had been appointed, and that in view of the severity with
+which marauding and insubordination were now regarded, degradation to
+the ranks would be the best that could be hoped for.
+
+The case, as represented by the offended parties, was that, after
+seizing the transports, Major Denisov, being drunk, went to the chief
+quartermaster and without any provocation called him a thief, threatened
+to strike him, and on being led out had rushed into the office and given
+two officials a thrashing, and dislocated the arm of one of them.
+
+In answer to Rostov's renewed questions, Denisov said, laughing, that he
+thought he remembered that some other fellow had got mixed up in it, but
+that it was all nonsense and rubbish, and he did not in the least fear
+any kind of trial, and that if those scoundrels dared attack him he
+would give them an answer that they would not easily forget.
+
+Denisov spoke contemptuously of the whole matter, but Rostov knew him
+too well not to detect that (while hiding it from others) at heart he
+feared a court-martial and was worried over the affair, which was
+evidently taking a bad turn. Every day, letters of inquiry and notices
+from the court arrived, and on the first of May, Denisov was ordered to
+hand the squadron over to the next in seniority and appear before the
+staff of his division to explain his violence at the commissariat
+office. On the previous day Platov reconnoitered with two Cossack
+regiments and two squadrons of hussars. Denisov, as was his wont, rode
+out in front of the outposts, parading his courage. A bullet fired by a
+French sharpshooter hit him in the fleshy part of his leg. Perhaps at
+another time Denisov would not have left the regiment for so slight a
+wound, but now he took advantage of it to excuse himself from appearing
+at the staff and went into hospital.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+In June the battle of Friedland was fought, in which the Pavlograds did
+not take part, and after that an armistice was proclaimed. Rostov, who
+felt his friend's absence very much, having no news of him since he left
+and feeling very anxious about his wound and the progress of his
+affairs, took advantage of the armistice to get leave to visit Denisov
+in hospital.
+
+The hospital was in a small Prussian town that had been twice devastated
+by Russian and French troops. Because it was summer, when it is so
+beautiful out in the fields, the little town presented a particularly
+dismal appearance with its broken roofs and fences, its foul streets,
+tattered inhabitants, and the sick and drunken soldiers wandering about.
+
+The hospital was in a brick building with some of the window frames and
+panes broken and a courtyard surrounded by the remains of a wooden fence
+that had been pulled to pieces. Several bandaged soldiers, with pale
+swollen faces, were sitting or walking about in the sunshine in the
+yard.
+
+Directly Rostov entered the door he was enveloped by a smell of
+putrefaction and hospital air. On the stairs he met a Russian army
+doctor smoking a cigar. The doctor was followed by a Russian assistant.
+
+"I can't tear myself to pieces," the doctor was saying. "Come to Makar
+Alexeevich in the evening. I shall be there."
+
+The assistant asked some further questions.
+
+"Oh, do the best you can! Isn't it all the same?" The doctor noticed
+Rostov coming upstairs.
+
+"What do you want, sir?" said the doctor. "What do you want? The bullets
+having spared you, do you want to try typhus? This is a pesthouse, sir."
+
+"How so?" asked Rostov.
+
+"Typhus, sir. It's death to go in. Only we two, Makeev and I" (he
+pointed to the assistant), "keep on here. Some five of us doctors have
+died in this place.... When a new one comes he is done for in a week,"
+said the doctor with evident satisfaction. "Prussian doctors have been
+invited here, but our allies don't like it at all."
+
+Rostov explained that he wanted to see Major Denisov of the hussars, who
+was wounded.
+
+"I don't know. I can't tell you, sir. Only think! I am alone in charge
+of three hospitals with more than four hundred patients! It's well that
+the charitable Prussian ladies send us two pounds of coffee and some
+lint each month or we should be lost!" he laughed. "Four hundred, sir,
+and they're always sending me fresh ones. There are four hundred? Eh?"
+he asked, turning to the assistant.
+
+The assistant looked fagged out. He was evidently vexed and impatient
+for the talkative doctor to go.
+
+"Major Denisov," Rostov said again. "He was wounded at Molliten."
+
+"Dead, I fancy. Eh, Makeev?" queried the doctor, in a tone of
+indifference.
+
+The assistant, however, did not confirm the doctor's words.
+
+"Is he tall and with reddish hair?" asked the doctor.
+
+Rostov described Denisov's appearance.
+
+"There was one like that," said the doctor, as if pleased. "That one is
+dead, I fancy. However, I'll look up our list. We had a list. Have you
+got it, Makeev?"
+
+"Makar Alexeevich has the list," answered the assistant. "But if you'll
+step into the officers' wards you'll see for yourself," he added,
+turning to Rostov.
+
+"Ah, you'd better not go, sir," said the doctor, "or you may have to
+stay here yourself."
+
+But Rostov bowed himself away from the doctor and asked the assistant to
+show him the way.
+
+"Only don't blame me!" the doctor shouted up after him.
+
+Rostov and the assistant went into the dark corridor. The smell was so
+strong there that Rostov held his nose and had to pause and collect his
+strength before he could go on. A door opened to the right, and an
+emaciated sallow man on crutches, barefoot and in underclothing, limped
+out and, leaning against the doorpost, looked with glittering envious
+eyes at those who were passing. Glancing in at the door, Rostov saw that
+the sick and wounded were lying on the floor on straw and overcoats.
+
+"May I go in and look?"
+
+"What is there to see?" said the assistant.
+
+But, just because the assistant evidently did not want him to go in,
+Rostov entered the soldiers' ward. The foul air, to which he had already
+begun to get used in the corridor, was still stronger here. It was a
+little different, more pungent, and one felt that this was where it
+originated.
+
+In the long room, brightly lit up by the sun through the large windows,
+the sick and wounded lay in two rows with their heads to the walls, and
+leaving a passage in the middle. Most of them were unconscious and paid
+no attention to the newcomers. Those who were conscious raised
+themselves or lifted their thin yellow faces, and all looked intently at
+Rostov with the same expression of hope, of relief, reproach, and envy
+of another's health. Rostov went to the middle of the room and looking
+through the open doors into the two adjoining rooms saw the same thing
+there. He stood still, looking silently around. He had not at all
+expected such a sight. Just before him, almost across the middle of the
+passage on the bare floor, lay a sick man, probably a Cossack to judge
+by the cut of his hair. The man lay on his back, his huge arms and legs
+outstretched. His face was purple, his eyes were rolled back so that
+only the whites were seen, and on his bare legs and arms which were
+still red, the veins stood out like cords. He was knocking the back of
+his head against the floor, hoarsely uttering some word which he kept
+repeating. Rostov listened and made out the word. It was "drink, drink,
+a drink!" Rostov glanced round, looking for someone who would put this
+man back in his place and bring him water.
+
+"Who looks after the sick here?" he asked the assistant.
+
+Just then a commissariat soldier, a hospital orderly, came in from the
+next room, marching stiffly, and drew up in front of Rostov.
+
+"Good day, your honor!" he shouted, rolling his eyes at Rostov and
+evidently mistaking him for one of the hospital authorities.
+
+"Get him to his place and give him some water," said Rostov, pointing to
+the Cossack.
+
+"Yes, your honor," the soldier replied complacently, and rolling his
+eyes more than ever he drew himself up still straighter, but did not
+move.
+
+"No, it's impossible to do anything here," thought Rostov, lowering his
+eyes, and he was going out, but became aware of an intense look fixed on
+him on his right, and he turned. Close to the corner, on an overcoat,
+sat an old, unshaven, gray-bearded soldier as thin as a skeleton, with a
+stern sallow face and eyes intently fixed on Rostov. The man's neighbor
+on one side whispered something to him, pointing at Rostov, who noticed
+that the old man wanted to speak to him. He drew nearer and saw that the
+old man had only one leg bent under him, the other had been amputated
+above the knee. His neighbor on the other side, who lay motionless some
+distance from him with his head thrown back, was a young soldier with a
+snub nose. His pale waxen face was still freckled and his eyes were
+rolled back. Rostov looked at the young soldier and a cold chill ran
+down his back.
+
+"Why, this one seems..." he began, turning to the assistant.
+
+"And how we've been begging, your honor," said the old soldier, his jaw
+quivering. "He's been dead since morning. After all we're men, not
+dogs."
+
+"I'll send someone at once. He shall be taken away--taken away at once,"
+said the assistant hurriedly. "Let us go, your honor."
+
+"Yes, yes, let us go," said Rostov hastily, and lowering his eyes and
+shrinking, he tried to pass unnoticed between the rows of reproachful
+envious eyes that were fixed upon him, and went out of the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+Going along the corridor, the assistant led Rostov to the officers'
+wards, consisting of three rooms, the doors of which stood open. There
+were beds in these rooms and the sick and wounded officers were lying or
+sitting on them. Some were walking about the rooms in hospital dressing
+gowns. The first person Rostov met in the officers' ward was a thin
+little man with one arm, who was walking about the first room in a
+nightcap and hospital dressing gown, with a pipe between his teeth.
+Rostov looked at him, trying to remember where he had seen him before.
+
+"See where we've met again!" said the little man. "Tushin, Tushin, don't
+you remember, who gave you a lift at Schon Grabern? And I've had a bit
+cut off, you see..." he went on with a smile, pointing to the empty
+sleeve of his dressing gown. "Looking for Vasili Dmitrich Denisov? My
+neighbor," he added, when he heard who Rostov wanted. "Here, here," and
+Tushin led him into the next room, from whence came sounds of several
+laughing voices.
+
+"How can they laugh, or even live at all here?" thought Rostov, still
+aware of that smell of decomposing flesh that had been so strong in the
+soldiers' ward, and still seeming to see fixed on him those envious
+looks which had followed him out from both sides, and the face of that
+young soldier with eyes rolled back.
+
+Denisov lay asleep on his bed with his head under the blanket, though it
+was nearly noon.
+
+"Ah, Wostov? How are you, how are you?" he called out, still in the same
+voice as in the regiment, but Rostov noticed sadly that under this
+habitual ease and animation some new, sinister, hidden feeling showed
+itself in the expression of Denisov's face and the intonations of his
+voice.
+
+His wound, though a slight one, had not yet healed even now, six weeks
+after he had been hit. His face had the same swollen pallor as the faces
+of the other hospital patients, but it was not this that struck Rostov.
+What struck him was that Denisov did not seem glad to see him, and
+smiled at him unnaturally. He did not ask about the regiment, nor about
+the general state of affairs, and when Rostov spoke of these matters did
+not listen.
+
+Rostov even noticed that Denisov did not like to be reminded of the
+regiment, or in general of that other free life which was going on
+outside the hospital. He seemed to try to forget that old life and was
+only interested in the affair with the commissariat officers. On
+Rostov's inquiry as to how the matter stood, he at once produced from
+under his pillow a paper he had received from the commission and the
+rough draft of his answer to it. He became animated when he began
+reading his paper and specially drew Rostov's attention to the stinging
+rejoinders he made to his enemies. His hospital companions, who had
+gathered round Rostov--a fresh arrival from the world outside--gradually
+began to disperse as soon as Denisov began reading his answer. Rostov
+noticed by their faces that all those gentlemen had already heard that
+story more than once and were tired of it. Only the man who had the next
+bed, a stout Uhlan, continued to sit on his bed, gloomily frowning and
+smoking a pipe, and little one-armed Tushin still listened, shaking his
+head disapprovingly. In the middle of the reading, the Uhlan interrupted
+Denisov.
+
+"But what I say is," he said, turning to Rostov, "it would be best
+simply to petition the Emperor for pardon. They say great rewards will
+now be distributed, and surely a pardon would be granted...."
+
+"Me petition the Empewo'!" exclaimed Denisov, in a voice to which he
+tried hard to give the old energy and fire, but which sounded like an
+expression of irritable impotence. "What for? If I were a wobber I would
+ask mercy, but I'm being court-martialed for bwinging wobbers to book.
+Let them twy me, I'm not afwaid of anyone. I've served the Tsar and my
+countwy honowably and have not stolen! And am I to be degwaded?...
+Listen, I'm w'iting to them stwaight. This is what I say: 'If I had
+wobbed the Tweasuwy...'"
+
+"It's certainly well written," said Tushin, "but that's not the point,
+Vasili Dmitrich," and he also turned to Rostov. "One has to submit, and
+Vasili Dmitrich doesn't want to. You know the auditor told you it was a
+bad business."
+
+"Well, let it be bad," said Denisov.
+
+"The auditor wrote out a petition for you," continued Tushin, "and you
+ought to sign it and ask this gentleman to take it. No doubt he"
+(indicating Rostov) "has connections on the staff. You won't find a
+better opportunity."
+
+"Haven't I said I'm not going to gwovel?" Denisov interrupted him, went
+on reading his paper.
+
+Rostov had not the courage to persuade Denisov, though he instinctively
+felt that the way advised by Tushin and the other officers was the
+safest, and though he would have been glad to be of service to Denisov.
+He knew his stubborn will and straightforward hasty temper.
+
+When the reading of Denisov's virulent reply, which took more than an
+hour, was over, Rostov said nothing, and he spent the rest of the day in
+a most dejected state of mind amid Denisov's hospital comrades, who had
+gathered round him, telling them what he knew and listening to their
+stories. Denisov was moodily silent all the evening.
+
+Late in the evening, when Rostov was about to leave, he asked Denisov
+whether he had no commission for him.
+
+"Yes, wait a bit," said Denisov, glancing round at the officers, and
+taking his papers from under his pillow he went to the window, where he
+had an inkpot, and sat down to write.
+
+"It seems it's no use knocking one's head against a wall!" he said,
+coming from the window and giving Rostov a large envelope. In it was the
+petition to the Emperor drawn up by the auditor, in which Denisov,
+without alluding to the offenses of the commissariat officials, simply
+asked for pardon.
+
+"Hand it in. It seems..."
+
+He did not finish, but gave a painfully unnatural smile.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+Having returned to the regiment and told the commander the state of
+Denisov's affairs, Rostov rode to Tilsit with the letter to the Emperor.
+
+On the thirteenth of June the French and Russian Emperors arrived in
+Tilsit. Boris Drubetskoy had asked the important personage on whom he
+was in attendance, to include him in the suite appointed for the stay at
+Tilsit.
+
+"I should like to see the great man," he said, alluding to Napoleon,
+whom hitherto he, like everyone else, had always called Buonaparte.
+
+"You are speaking of Buonaparte?" asked the general, smiling.
+
+Boris looked at his general inquiringly and immediately saw that he was
+being tested.
+
+"I am speaking, Prince, of the Emperor Napoleon," he replied. The
+general patted him on the shoulder, with a smile.
+
+"You will go far," he said, and took him to Tilsit with him.
+
+Boris was among the few present at the Niemen on the day the two
+Emperors met. He saw the raft, decorated with monograms, saw Napoleon
+pass before the French Guards on the farther bank of the river, saw the
+pensive face of the Emperor Alexander as he sat in silence in a tavern
+on the bank of the Niemen awaiting Napoleon's arrival, saw both Emperors
+get into boats, and saw how Napoleon--reaching the raft first--stepped
+quickly forward to meet Alexander and held out his hand to him, and how
+they both retired into the pavilion. Since he had begun to move in the
+highest circles Boris had made it his habit to watch attentively all
+that went on around him and to note it down. At the time of the meeting
+at Tilsit he asked the names of those who had come with Napoleon and
+about the uniforms they wore, and listened attentively to words spoken
+by important personages. At the moment the Emperors went into the
+pavilion he looked at his watch, and did not forget to look at it again
+when Alexander came out. The interview had lasted an hour and fifty-
+three minutes. He noted this down that same evening, among other facts
+he felt to be of historic importance. As the Emperor's suite was a very
+small one, it was a matter of great importance, for a man who valued his
+success in the service, to be at Tilsit on the occasion of this
+interview between the two Emperors, and having succeeded in this, Boris
+felt that henceforth his position was fully assured. He had not only
+become known, but people had grown accustomed to him and accepted him.
+Twice he had executed commissions to the Emperor himself, so that the
+latter knew his face, and all those at court, far from cold-shouldering
+him as at first when they considered him a newcomer, would now have been
+surprised had he been absent.
+
+Boris lodged with another adjutant, the Polish Count Zhilinski.
+Zhilinski, a Pole brought up in Paris, was rich, and passionately fond
+of the French, and almost every day of the stay at Tilsit, French
+officers of the Guard and from French headquarters were dining and
+lunching with him and Boris.
+
+On the evening of the twenty-fourth of June, Count Zhilinski arranged a
+supper for his French friends. The guest of honor was an aide-de-camp of
+Napoleon's, there were also several French officers of the Guard, and a
+page of Napoleon's, a young lad of an old aristocratic French family.
+That same day, Rostov, profiting by the darkness to avoid being
+recognized in civilian dress, came to Tilsit and went to the lodging
+occupied by Boris and Zhilinski.
+
+Rostov, in common with the whole army from which he came, was far from
+having experienced the change of feeling toward Napoleon and the French-
+-who from being foes had suddenly become friends--that had taken place
+at headquarters and in Boris. In the army, Bonaparte and the French were
+still regarded with mingled feelings of anger, contempt, and fear. Only
+recently, talking with one of Platov's Cossack officers, Rostov had
+argued that if Napoleon were taken prisoner he would be treated not as a
+sovereign, but as a criminal. Quite lately, happening to meet a wounded
+French colonel on the road, Rostov had maintained with heat that peace
+was impossible between a legitimate sovereign and the criminal
+Bonaparte. Rostov was therefore unpleasantly struck by the presence of
+French officers in Boris' lodging, dressed in uniforms he had been
+accustomed to see from quite a different point of view from the outposts
+of the flank. As soon as he noticed a French officer, who thrust his
+head out of the door, that warlike feeling of hostility which he always
+experienced at the sight of the enemy suddenly seized him. He stopped at
+the threshold and asked in Russian whether Drubetskoy lived there.
+Boris, hearing a strange voice in the anteroom, came out to meet him. An
+expression of annoyance showed itself for a moment on his face on first
+recognizing Rostov.
+
+"Ah, it's you? Very glad, very glad to see you," he said, however,
+coming toward him with a smile. But Rostov had noticed his first
+impulse.
+
+"I've come at a bad time I think. I should not have come, but I have
+business," he said coldly.
+
+"No, I only wonder how you managed to get away from your regiment. Dans
+un moment je suis a vous," * he said, answering someone who called him.
+
+
+* "In a minute I shall be at your disposal."
+
+"I see I'm intruding," Rostov repeated.
+
+The look of annoyance had already disappeared from Boris' face: having
+evidently reflected and decided how to act, he very quietly took both
+Rostov's hands and led him into the next room. His eyes, looking
+serenely and steadily at Rostov, seemed to be veiled by something, as if
+screened by blue spectacles of conventionality. So it seemed to Rostov.
+
+"Oh, come now! As if you could come at a wrong time!" said Boris, and he
+led him into the room where the supper table was laid and introduced him
+to his guests, explaining that he was not a civilian, but an hussar
+officer, and an old friend of his.
+
+"Count Zhilinski--le Comte N. N.--le Capitaine S. S.," said he, naming
+his guests. Rostov looked frowningly at the Frenchmen, bowed
+reluctantly, and remained silent.
+
+Zhilinski evidently did not receive this new Russian person very
+willingly into his circle and did not speak to Rostov. Boris did not
+appear to notice the constraint the newcomer produced and, with the same
+pleasant composure and the same veiled look in his eyes with which he
+had met Rostov, tried to enliven the conversation. One of the Frenchmen,
+with the politeness characteristic of his countrymen, addressed the
+obstinately taciturn Rostov, saying that the latter had probably come to
+Tilsit to see the Emperor.
+
+"No, I came on business," replied Rostov, briefly.
+
+Rostov had been out of humor from the moment he noticed the look of
+dissatisfaction on Boris' face, and as always happens to those in a bad
+humor, it seemed to him that everyone regarded him with aversion and
+that he was in everybody's way. He really was in their way, for he alone
+took no part in the conversation which again became general. The looks
+the visitors cast on him seemed to say: "And what is he sitting here
+for?" He rose and went up to Boris.
+
+"Anyhow, I'm in your way," he said in a low tone. "Come and talk over my
+business and I'll go away."
+
+"Oh, no, not at all," said Boris. "But if you are tired, come and lie
+down in my room and have a rest."
+
+"Yes, really..."
+
+They went into the little room where Boris slept. Rostov, without
+sitting down, began at once, irritably (as if Boris were to blame in
+some way) telling him about Denisov's affair, asking him whether,
+through his general, he could and would intercede with the Emperor on
+Denisov's behalf and get Denisov's petition handed in. When he and Boris
+were alone, Rostov felt for the first time that he could not look Boris
+in the face without a sense of awkwardness. Boris, with one leg crossed
+over the other and stroking his left hand with the slender fingers of
+his right, listened to Rostov as a general listens to the report of a
+subordinate, now looking aside and now gazing straight into Rostov's
+eyes with the same veiled look. Each time this happened Rostov felt
+uncomfortable and cast down his eyes.
+
+"I have heard of such cases and know that His Majesty is very severe in
+such affairs. I think it would be best not to bring it before the
+Emperor, but to apply to the commander of the corps.... But in general,
+I think..."
+
+"So you don't want to do anything? Well then, say so!" Rostov almost
+shouted, not looking Boris in the face.
+
+Boris smiled.
+
+"On the contrary, I will do what I can. Only I thought..."
+
+At that moment Zhilinski's voice was heard calling Boris.
+
+"Well then, go, go, go..." said Rostov, and refusing supper and
+remaining alone in the little room, he walked up and down for a long
+time, hearing the lighthearted French conversation from the next room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+Rostov had come to Tilsit the day least suitable for a petition on
+Denisov's behalf. He could not himself go to the general in attendance
+as he was in mufti and had come to Tilsit without permission to do so,
+and Boris, even had he wished to, could not have done so on the
+following day. On that day, June 27, the preliminaries of peace were
+signed. The Emperors exchanged decorations: Alexander received the Cross
+of the Legion of Honor and Napoleon the Order of St. Andrew of the First
+Degree, and a dinner had been arranged for the evening, given by a
+battalion of the French Guards to the Preobrazhensk battalion. The
+Emperors were to be present at that banquet.
+
+Rostov felt so ill at ease and uncomfortable with Boris that, when the
+latter looked in after supper, he pretended to be asleep, and early next
+morning went away, avoiding Boris. In his civilian clothes and a round
+hat, he wandered about the town, staring at the French and their
+uniforms and at the streets and houses where the Russian and French
+Emperors were staying. In a square he saw tables being set up and
+preparations made for the dinner; he saw the Russian and French colors
+draped from side to side of the streets, with huge monograms A and N. In
+the windows of the houses also flags and bunting were displayed.
+
+"Boris doesn't want to help me and I don't want to ask him. That's
+settled," thought Nicholas. "All is over between us, but I won't leave
+here without having done all I can for Denisov and certainly not without
+getting his letter to the Emperor. The Emperor!... He is here!" thought
+Rostov, who had unconsciously returned to the house where Alexander
+lodged.
+
+Saddled horses were standing before the house and the suite were
+assembling, evidently preparing for the Emperor to come out.
+
+"I may see him at any moment," thought Rostov. "If only I were to hand
+the letter direct to him and tell him all... could they really arrest me
+for my civilian clothes? Surely not! He would understand on whose side
+justice lies. He understands everything, knows everything. Who can be
+more just, more magnanimous than he? And even if they did arrest me for
+being here, what would it matter?" thought he, looking at an officer who
+was entering the house the Emperor occupied. "After all, people do go
+in.... It's all nonsense! I'll go in and hand the letter to the Emperor
+myself so much the worse for Drubetskoy who drives me to it!" And
+suddenly with a determination he himself did not expect, Rostov felt for
+the letter in his pocket and went straight to the house.
+
+"No, I won't miss my opportunity now, as I did after Austerlitz," he
+thought, expecting every moment to meet the monarch, and conscious of
+the blood that rushed to his heart at the thought. "I will fall at his
+feet and beseech him. He will lift me up, will listen, and will even
+thank me. 'I am happy when I can do good, but to remedy injustice is the
+greatest happiness,'" Rostov fancied the sovereign saying. And passing
+people who looked after him with curiosity, he entered the porch of the
+Emperor's house.
+
+A broad staircase led straight up from the entry, and to the right he
+saw a closed door. Below, under the staircase, was a door leading to the
+lower floor.
+
+"Whom do you want?" someone inquired.
+
+"To hand in a letter, a petition, to His Majesty," said Nicholas, with a
+tremor in his voice.
+
+"A petition? This way, to the officer on duty" (he was shown the door
+leading downstairs), "only it won't be accepted."
+
+On hearing this indifferent voice, Rostov grew frightened at what he was
+doing; the thought of meeting the Emperor at any moment was so
+fascinating and consequently so alarming that he was ready to run away,
+but the official who had questioned him opened the door, and Rostov
+entered.
+
+A short stout man of about thirty, in white breeches and high boots and
+a batiste shirt that he had evidently only just put on, standing in that
+room, and his valet was buttoning on to the back of his breeches a new
+pair of handsome silk-embroidered braces that, for some reason,
+attracted Rostov's attention. This man was speaking to someone in the
+adjoining room.
+
+"A good figure and in her first bloom," he was saying, but on seeing
+Rostov, he stopped short and frowned.
+
+"What is it? A petition?"
+
+"What is it?" asked the person in the other room.
+
+"Another petitioner," answered the man with the braces.
+
+"Tell him to come later. He'll be coming out directly, we must go."
+
+"Later... later! Tomorrow. It's too late..."
+
+Rostov turned and was about to go, but the man in the braces stopped
+him.
+
+"Whom have you come from? Who are you?"
+
+"I come from Major Denisov," answered Rostov.
+
+"Are you an officer?"
+
+"Lieutenant Count Rostov."
+
+"What audacity! Hand it in through your commander. And go along with
+you... go," and he continued to put on the uniform the valet handed him.
+
+Rostov went back into the hall and noticed that in the porch there were
+many officers and generals in full parade uniform, whom he had to pass.
+
+Cursing his temerity, his heart sinking at the thought of finding
+himself at any moment face to face with the Emperor and being put to
+shame and arrested in his presence, fully alive now to the impropriety
+of his conduct and repenting of it, Rostov, with downcast eyes, was
+making his way out of the house through the brilliant suite when a
+familiar voice called him and a hand detained him.
+
+"What are you doing here, sir, in civilian dress?" asked a deep voice.
+
+It was a cavalry general who had obtained the Emperor's special favor
+during this campaign, and who had formerly commanded the division in
+which Rostov was serving.
+
+Rostov, in dismay, began justifying himself, but seeing the kindly,
+jocular face of the general, he took him aside and in an excited voice
+told him the whole affair, asking him to intercede for Denisov, whom the
+general knew. Having heard Rostov to the end, the general shook his head
+gravely.
+
+"I'm sorry, sorry for that fine fellow. Give me the letter."
+
+Hardly had Rostov handed him the letter and finished explaining
+Denisov's case, when hasty steps and the jingling of spurs were heard on
+the stairs, and the general, leaving him, went to the porch. The
+gentlemen of the Emperor's suite ran down the stairs and went to their
+horses. Hayne, the same groom who had been at Austerlitz, led up the
+Emperor's horse, and the faint creak of a footstep Rostov knew at once
+was heard on the stairs. Forgetting the danger of being recognized,
+Rostov went close to the porch, together with some inquisitive
+civilians, and again, after two years, saw those features he adored:
+that same face and same look and step, and the same union of majesty and
+mildness.... And the feeling of enthusiasm and love for his sovereign
+rose again in Rostov's soul in all its old force. In the uniform of the
+Preobrazhensk regiment--white chamois-leather breeches and high boots--
+and wearing a star Rostov did not know (it was that of the Legion
+d'honneur), the monarch came out into the porch, putting on his gloves
+and carrying his hat under his arm. He stopped and looked about him,
+brightening everything around by his glance. He spoke a few words to
+some of the generals, and, recognizing the former commander of Rostov's
+division, smiled and beckoned to him.
+
+All the suite drew back and Rostov saw the general talking for some time
+to the Emperor.
+
+The Emperor said a few words to him and took a step toward his horse.
+Again the crowd of members of the suite and street gazers (among whom
+was Rostov) moved nearer to the Emperor. Stopping beside his horse, with
+his hand on the saddle, the Emperor turned to the cavalry general and
+said in a loud voice, evidently wishing to be heard by all:
+
+"I cannot do it, General. I cannot, because the law is stronger than I,"
+and he raised his foot to the stirrup.
+
+The general bowed his head respectfully, and the monarch mounted and
+rode down the street at a gallop. Beside himself with enthusiasm, Rostov
+ran after him with the crowd.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+The Emperor rode to the square where, facing one another, a battalion of
+the Preobrazhensk regiment stood on the right and a battalion of the
+French Guards in their bearskin caps on the left.
+
+As the Tsar rode up to one flank of the battalions, which presented
+arms, another group of horsemen galloped up to the opposite flank, and
+at the head of them Rostov recognized Napoleon. It could be no one else.
+He came at a gallop, wearing a small hat, a blue uniform open over a
+white vest, and the St. Andrew ribbon over his shoulder. He was riding a
+very fine thoroughbred gray Arab horse with a crimson gold-embroidered
+saddlecloth. On approaching Alexander he raised his hat, and as he did
+so, Rostov, with his cavalryman's eye, could not help noticing that
+Napoleon did not sit well or firmly in the saddle. The battalions
+shouted "Hurrah!" and "Vive l'Empereur!" Napoleon said something to
+Alexander, and both Emperors dismounted and took each other's hands.
+Napoleon's face wore an unpleasant and artificial smile. Alexander was
+saying something affable to him.
+
+In spite of the trampling of the French gendarmes' horses, which were
+pushing back the crowd, Rostov kept his eyes on every movement of
+Alexander and Bonaparte. It struck him as a surprise that Alexander
+treated Bonaparte as an equal and that the latter was quite at ease with
+the Tsar, as if such relations with an Emperor were an everyday matter
+to him.
+
+Alexander and Napoleon, with the long train of their suites, approached
+the right flank of the Preobrazhensk battalion and came straight up to
+the crowd standing there. The crowd unexpectedly found itself so close
+to the Emperors that Rostov, standing in the front row, was afraid he
+might be recognized.
+
+"Sire, I ask your permission to present the Legion of Honor to the
+bravest of your soldiers," said a sharp, precise voice, articulating
+every letter.
+
+This was said by the undersized Napoleon, looking up straight into
+Alexander's eyes. Alexander listened attentively to what was said to him
+and, bending his head, smiled pleasantly.
+
+"To him who has borne himself most bravely in this last war," added
+Napoleon, accentuating each syllable, as with a composure and assurance
+exasperating to Rostov, he ran his eyes over the Russian ranks drawn up
+before him, who all presented arms with their eyes fixed on their
+Emperor.
+
+"Will Your Majesty allow me to consult the colonel?" said Alexander and
+took a few hasty steps toward Prince Kozlovski, the commander of the
+battalion.
+
+Bonaparte meanwhile began taking the glove off his small white hand,
+tore it in doing so, and threw it away. An aide-de-camp behind him
+rushed forward and picked it up.
+
+"To whom shall it be given?" the Emperor Alexander asked Koslovski, in
+Russian in a low voice.
+
+"To whomever Your Majesty commands."
+
+The Emperor knit his brows with dissatisfaction and, glancing back,
+remarked:
+
+"But we must give him an answer."
+
+Kozlovski scanned the ranks resolutely and included Rostov in his
+scrutiny.
+
+"Can it be me?" thought Rostov.
+
+"Lazarev!" the colonel called, with a frown, and Lazarev, the first
+soldier in the rank, stepped briskly forward.
+
+"Where are you off to? Stop here!" voices whispered to Lazarev who did
+not know where to go. Lazarev stopped, casting a sidelong look at his
+colonel in alarm. His face twitched, as often happens to soldiers called
+before the ranks.
+
+Napoleon slightly turned his head, and put his plump little hand out
+behind him as if to take something. The members of his suite, guessing
+at once what he wanted, moved about and whispered as they passed
+something from one to another, and a page--the same one Rostov had seen
+the previous evening at Boris'--ran forward and, bowing respectfully
+over the outstretched hand and not keeping it waiting a moment, laid in
+it an Order on a red ribbon. Napoleon, without looking, pressed two
+fingers together and the badge was between them. Then he approached
+Lazarev (who rolled his eyes and persistently gazed at his own monarch),
+looked round at the Emperor Alexander to imply that what he was now
+doing was done for the sake of his ally, and the small white hand
+holding the Order touched one of Lazarev's buttons. It was as if
+Napoleon knew that it was only necessary for his hand to deign to touch
+that soldier's breast for the soldier to be forever happy, rewarded, and
+distinguished from everyone else in the world. Napoleon merely laid the
+cross on Lazarev's breast and, dropping his hand, turned toward
+Alexander as though sure that the cross would adhere there. And it
+really did.
+
+Officious hands, Russian and French, immediately seized the cross and
+fastened it to the uniform. Lazarev glanced morosely at the little man
+with white hands who was doing something to him and, still standing
+motionless presenting arms, looked again straight into Alexander's eyes,
+as if asking whether he should stand there, or go away, or do something
+else. But receiving no orders, he remained for some time in that rigid
+position.
+
+The Emperors remounted and rode away. The Preobrazhensk battalion,
+breaking rank, mingled with the French Guards and sat down at the tables
+prepared for them.
+
+Lazarev sat in the place of honor. Russian and French officers embraced
+him, congratulated him, and pressed his hands. Crowds of officers and
+civilians drew near merely to see him. A rumble of Russian and French
+voices and laughter filled the air round the tables in the square. Two
+officers with flushed faces, looking cheerful and happy, passed by
+Rostov.
+
+"What d'you think of the treat? All on silver plate," one of them was
+saying. "Have you seen Lazarev?"
+
+"I have."
+
+"Tomorrow, I hear, the Preobrazhenskis will give them a dinner."
+
+"Yes, but what luck for Lazarev! Twelve hundred francs' pension for
+life."
+
+"Here's a cap, lads!" shouted a Preobrazhensk soldier, donning a shaggy
+French cap.
+
+"It's a fine thing! First-rate!"
+
+"Have you heard the password?" asked one Guards' officer of another.
+"The day before yesterday it was 'Napoleon, France, bravoure';
+yesterday, 'Alexandre, Russie, grandeur.' One day our Emperor gives it
+and next day Napoleon. Tomorrow our Emperor will send a St. George's
+Cross to the bravest of the French Guards. It has to be done. He must
+respond in kind."
+
+Boris, too, with his friend Zhilinski, came to see the Preobrazhensk
+banquet. On his way back, he noticed Rostov standing by the corner of a
+house.
+
+"Rostov! How d'you do? We missed one another," he said, and could not
+refrain from asking what was the matter, so strangely dismal and
+troubled was Rostov's face.
+
+"Nothing, nothing," replied Rostov.
+
+"You'll call round?"
+
+"Yes, I will."
+
+Rostov stood at that corner for a long time, watching the feast from a
+distance. In his mind, a painful process was going on which he could not
+bring to a conclusion. Terrible doubts rose in his soul. Now he
+remembered Denisov with his changed expression, his submission, and the
+whole hospital, with arms and legs torn off and its dirt and disease. So
+vividly did he recall that hospital stench of dead flesh that he looked
+round to see where the smell came from. Next he thought of that self-
+satisfied Bonaparte, with his small white hand, who was now an Emperor,
+liked and respected by Alexander. Then why those severed arms and legs
+and those dead men?... Then again he thought of Lazarev rewarded and
+Denisov punished and unpardoned. He caught himself harboring such
+strange thoughts that he was frightened.
+
+The smell of the food the Preobrazhenskis were eating and a sense of
+hunger recalled him from these reflections; he had to get something to
+eat before going away. He went to a hotel he had noticed that morning.
+There he found so many people, among them officers who, like himself,
+had come in civilian clothes, that he had difficulty in getting a
+dinner. Two officers of his own division joined him. The conversation
+naturally turned on the peace. The officers, his comrades, like most of
+the army, were dissatisfied with the peace concluded after the battle of
+Friedland. They said that had we held out a little longer Napoleon would
+have been done for, as his troops had neither provisions nor ammunition.
+Nicholas ate and drank (chiefly the latter) in silence. He finished a
+couple of bottles of wine by himself. The process in his mind went on
+tormenting him without reaching a conclusion. He feared to give way to
+his thoughts, yet could not get rid of them. Suddenly, on one of the
+officers' saying that it was humiliating to look at the French, Rostov
+began shouting with uncalled-for wrath, and therefore much to the
+surprise of the officers:
+
+"How can you judge what's best?" he cried, the blood suddenly rushing to
+his face. "How can you judge the Emperor's actions? What right have we
+to argue? We cannot comprehend either the Emperor's aims or his
+actions!"
+
+"But I never said a word about the Emperor!" said the officer,
+justifying himself, and unable to understand Rostov's outburst, except
+on the supposition that he was drunk.
+
+But Rostov did not listen to him.
+
+"We are not diplomatic officials, we are soldiers and nothing more," he
+went on. "If we are ordered to die, we must die. If we're punished, it
+means that we have deserved it, it's not for us to judge. If the Emperor
+pleases to recognize Bonaparte as Emperor and to conclude an alliance
+with him, it means that that is the right thing to do. If once we begin
+judging and arguing about everything, nothing sacred will be left! That
+way we shall be saying there is no God--nothing!" shouted Nicholas,
+banging the table--very little to the point as it seemed to his
+listeners, but quite relevantly to the course of his own thoughts.
+
+"Our business is to do our duty, to fight and not to think! That's
+all...." said he.
+
+"And to drink," said one of the officers, not wishing to quarrel.
+
+"Yes, and to drink," assented Nicholas. "Hullo there! Another bottle!"
+he shouted.
+
+In 1808 the Emperor Alexander went to Erfurt for a fresh interview with
+the Emperor Napoleon, and in the upper circles of Petersburg there was
+much talk of the grandeur of this important meeting.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+In 1809 the intimacy between "the world's two arbiters," as Napoleon and
+Alexander were called, was such that when Napoleon declared war on
+Austria a Russian corps crossed the frontier to co-operate with our old
+enemy Bonaparte against our old ally the Emperor of Austria, and in
+court circles the possibility of marriage between Napoleon and one of
+Alexander's sisters was spoken of. But besides considerations of foreign
+policy, the attention of Russian society was at that time keenly
+directed on the internal changes that were being undertaken in all the
+departments of government.
+
+Life meanwhile--real life, with its essential interests of health and
+sickness, toil and rest, and its intellectual interests in thought,
+science, poetry, music, love, friendship, hatred, and passions--went on
+as usual, independently of and apart from political friendship or enmity
+with Napoleon Bonaparte and from all the schemes of reconstruction.
+
+BOOK SIX: 1808 - 10
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+Prince Andrew had spent two years continuously in the country.
+
+All the plans Pierre had attempted on his estates--and constantly
+changing from one thing to another had never accomplished--were carried
+out by Prince Andrew without display and without perceptible difficulty.
+
+He had in the highest degree a practical tenacity which Pierre lacked,
+and without fuss or strain on his part this set things going.
+
+On one of his estates the three hundred serfs were liberated and became
+free agricultural laborers--this being one of the first examples of the
+kind in Russia. On other estates the serfs' compulsory labor was
+commuted for a quitrent. A trained midwife was engaged for Bogucharovo
+at his expense, and a priest was paid to teach reading and writing to
+the children of the peasants and household serfs.
+
+Prince Andrew spent half his time at Bald Hills with his father and his
+son, who was still in the care of nurses. The other half he spent in
+"Bogucharovo Cloister," as his father called Prince Andrew's estate.
+Despite the indifference to the affairs of the world he had expressed to
+Pierre, he diligently followed all that went on, received many books,
+and to his surprise noticed that when he or his father had visitors from
+Petersburg, the very vortex of life, these people lagged behind himself-
+-who never left the country--in knowledge of what was happening in home
+and foreign affairs.
+
+Besides being occupied with his estates and reading a great variety of
+books, Prince Andrew was at this time busy with a critical survey of our
+last two unfortunate campaigns, and with drawing up a proposal for a
+reform of the army rules and regulations.
+
+In the spring of 1809 he went to visit the Ryazan estates which had been
+inherited by his son, whose guardian he was.
+
+Warmed by the spring sunshine he sat in the caleche looking at the new
+grass, the first leaves on the birches, and the first puffs of white
+spring clouds floating across the clear blue sky. He was not thinking of
+anything, but looked absent-mindedly and cheerfully from side to side.
+
+They crossed the ferry where he had talked with Pierre the year before.
+They went through the muddy village, past threshing floors and green
+fields of winter rye, downhill where snow still lodged near the bridge,
+uphill where the clay had been liquefied by the rain, past strips of
+stubble land and bushes touched with green here and there, and into a
+birch forest growing on both sides of the road. In the forest it was
+almost hot, no wind could be felt. The birches with their sticky green
+leaves were motionless, and lilac-colored flowers and the first blades
+of green grass were pushing up and lifting last year's leaves. The
+coarse evergreen color of the small fir trees scattered here and there
+among the birches was an unpleasant reminder of winter. On entering the
+forest the horses began to snort and sweated visibly.
+
+Peter the footman made some remark to the coachman; the latter assented.
+But apparently the coachman's sympathy was not enough for Peter, and he
+turned on the box toward his master.
+
+"How pleasant it is, your excellency!" he said with a respectful smile.
+
+"What?"
+
+"It's pleasant, your excellency!"
+
+
+"What is he talking about?" thought Prince Andrew. "Oh, the spring, I
+suppose," he thought as he turned round. "Yes, really everything is
+green already.... How early! The birches and cherry and alders too are
+coming out.... But the oaks show no sign yet. Ah, here is one oak!"
+
+At the edge of the road stood an oak. Probably ten times the age of the
+birches that formed the forest, it was ten times as thick and twice as
+tall as they. It was an enormous tree, its girth twice as great as a man
+could embrace, and evidently long ago some of its branches had been
+broken off and its bark scarred. With its huge ungainly limbs sprawling
+unsymmetrically, and its gnarled hands and fingers, it stood an aged,
+stern, and scornful monster among the smiling birch trees. Only the
+dead-looking evergreen firs dotted about in the forest, and this oak,
+refused to yield to the charm of spring or notice either the spring or
+the sunshine.
+
+"Spring, love, happiness!" this oak seemed to say. "Are you not weary of
+that stupid, meaningless, constantly repeated fraud? Always the same and
+always a fraud? There is no spring, no sun, no happiness! Look at those
+cramped dead firs, ever the same, and at me too, sticking out my broken
+and barked fingers just where they have grown, whether from my back or
+my sides: as they have grown so I stand, and I do not believe in your
+hopes and your lies."
+
+As he passed through the forest Prince Andrew turned several times to
+look at that oak, as if expecting something from it. Under the oak, too,
+were flowers and grass, but it stood among them scowling, rigid,
+misshapen, and grim as ever.
+
+"Yes, the oak is right, a thousand times right," thought Prince Andrew.
+"Let others--the young--yield afresh to that fraud, but we know life,
+our life is finished!"
+
+A whole sequence of new thoughts, hopeless but mournfully pleasant, rose
+in his soul in connection with that tree. During this journey he, as it
+were, considered his life afresh and arrived at his old conclusion,
+restful in its hopelessness: that it was not for him to begin anything
+anew--but that he must live out his life, content to do no harm, and not
+disturbing himself or desiring anything.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+Prince Andrew had to see the Marshal of the Nobility for the district in
+connection with the affairs of the Ryazan estate of which he was
+trustee. This Marshal was Count Ilya Rostov, and in the middle of May
+Prince Andrew went to visit him.
+
+It was now hot spring weather. The whole forest was already clothed in
+green. It was dusty and so hot that on passing near water one longed to
+bathe.
+
+Prince Andrew, depressed and preoccupied with the business about which
+he had to speak to the Marshal, was driving up the avenue in the grounds
+of the Rostovs' house at Otradnoe. He heard merry girlish cries behind
+some trees on the right and saw a group of girls running to cross the
+path of his caleche. Ahead of the rest and nearer to him ran a dark-
+haired, remarkably slim, pretty girl in a yellow chintz dress, with a
+white handkerchief on her head from under which loose locks of hair
+escaped. The girl was shouting something but, seeing that he was a
+stranger, ran back laughing without looking at him.
+
+Suddenly, he did not know why, he felt a pang. The day was so beautiful,
+the sun so bright, everything around so gay, but that slim pretty girl
+did not know, or wish to know, of his existence and was contented and
+cheerful in her own separate--probably foolish--but bright and happy
+life. "What is she so glad about? What is she thinking of? Not of the
+military regulations or of the arrangement of the Ryazan serfs'
+quitrents. Of what is she thinking? Why is she so happy?" Prince Andrew
+asked himself with instinctive curiosity.
+
+In 1809 Count Ilya Rostov was living at Otradnoe just as he had done in
+former years, that is, entertaining almost the whole province with
+hunts, theatricals, dinners, and music. He was glad to see Prince
+Andrew, as he was to see any new visitor, and insisted on his staying
+the night.
+
+During the dull day, in the course of which he was entertained by his
+elderly hosts and by the more important of the visitors (the old count's
+house was crowded on account of an approaching name day), Prince Andrew
+repeatedly glanced at Natasha, gay and laughing among the younger
+members of the company, and asked himself each time, "What is she
+thinking about? Why is she so glad?"
+
+That night, alone in new surroundings, he was long unable to sleep. He
+read awhile and then put out his candle, but relit it. It was hot in the
+room, the inside shutters of which were closed. He was cross with the
+stupid old man (as he called Rostov), who had made him stay by assuring
+him that some necessary documents had not yet arrived from town, and he
+was vexed with himself for having stayed.
+
+He got up and went to the window to open it. As soon as he opened the
+shutters the moonlight, as if it had long been watching for this, burst
+into the room. He opened the casement. The night was fresh, bright, and
+very still. Just before the window was a row of pollard trees, looking
+black on one side and with a silvery light on the other. Beneath the
+trees grew some kind of lush, wet, bushy vegetation with silver-lit
+leaves and stems here and there. Farther back beyond the dark trees a
+roof glittered with dew, to the right was a leafy tree with brilliantly
+white trunk and branches, and above it shone the moon, nearly at its
+full, in a pale, almost starless, spring sky. Prince Andrew leaned his
+elbows on the window ledge and his eyes rested on that sky.
+
+His room was on the first floor. Those in the rooms above were also
+awake. He heard female voices overhead.
+
+"Just once more," said a girlish voice above him which Prince Andrew
+recognized at once.
+
+"But when are you coming to bed?" replied another voice.
+
+"I won't, I can't sleep, what's the use? Come now for the last time."
+
+
+Two girlish voices sang a musical passage--the end of some song.
+
+"Oh, how lovely! Now go to sleep, and there's an end of it."
+
+"You go to sleep, but I can't," said the first voice, coming nearer to
+the window. She was evidently leaning right out, for the rustle of her
+dress and even her breathing could be heard. Everything was stone-still,
+like the moon and its light and the shadows. Prince Andrew, too, dared
+not stir, for fear of betraying his unintentional presence.
+
+"Sonya! Sonya!" he again heard the first speaker. "Oh, how can you
+sleep? Only look how glorious it is! Ah, how glorious! Do wake up,
+Sonya!" she said almost with tears in her voice. "There never, never was
+such a lovely night before!"
+
+Sonya made some reluctant reply.
+
+"Do just come and see what a moon!... Oh, how lovely! Come here....
+Darling, sweetheart, come here! There, you see? I feel like sitting down
+on my heels, putting my arms round my knees like this, straining tight,
+as tight as possible, and flying away! Like this...."
+
+"Take care, you'll fall out."
+
+He heard the sound of a scuffle and Sonya's disapproving voice: "It's
+past one o'clock."
+
+"Oh, you only spoil things for me. All right, go, go!"
+
+Again all was silent, but Prince Andrew knew she was still sitting
+there. From time to time he heard a soft rustle and at times a sigh.
+
+"O God, O God! What does it mean?" she suddenly exclaimed. "To bed then,
+if it must be!" and she slammed the casement.
+
+"For her I might as well not exist!" thought Prince Andrew while he
+listened to her voice, for some reason expecting yet fearing that she
+might say something about him. "There she is again! As if it were on
+purpose," thought he.
+
+In his soul there suddenly arose such an unexpected turmoil of youthful
+thoughts and hopes, contrary to the whole tenor of his life, that unable
+to explain his condition to himself he lay down and fell asleep at once.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+Next morning, having taken leave of no one but the count, and not
+waiting for the ladies to appear, Prince Andrew set off for home.
+
+It was already the beginning of June when on his return journey he drove
+into the birch forest where the gnarled old oak had made so strange and
+memorable an impression on him. In the forest the harness bells sounded
+yet more muffled than they had done six weeks before, for now all was
+thick, shady, and dense, and the young firs dotted about in the forest
+did not jar on the general beauty but, lending themselves to the mood
+around, were delicately green with fluffy young shoots.
+
+The whole day had been hot. Somewhere a storm was gathering, but only a
+small cloud had scattered some raindrops lightly, sprinkling the road
+and the sappy leaves. The left side of the forest was dark in the shade,
+the right side glittered in the sunlight, wet and shiny and scarcely
+swayed by the breeze. Everything was in blossom, the nightingales
+trilled, and their voices reverberated now near, now far away.
+
+"Yes, here in this forest was that oak with which I agreed," thought
+Prince Andrew. "But where is it?" he again wondered, gazing at the left
+side of the road, and without recognizing it he looked with admiration
+at the very oak he sought. The old oak, quite transfigured, spreading
+out a canopy of sappy dark-green foliage, stood rapt and slightly
+trembling in the rays of the evening sun. Neither gnarled fingers nor
+old scars nor old doubts and sorrows were any of them in evidence now.
+Through the hard century-old bark, even where there were no twigs,
+leaves had sprouted such as one could hardly believe the old veteran
+could have produced.
+
+"Yes, it is the same oak," thought Prince Andrew, and all at once he was
+seized by an unreasoning springtime feeling of joy and renewal. All the
+best moments of his life suddenly rose to his memory. Austerlitz with
+the lofty heavens, his wife's dead reproachful face, Pierre at the
+ferry, that girl thrilled by the beauty of the night, and that night
+itself and the moon, and.... all this rushed suddenly to his mind.
+
+"No, life is not over at thirty-one!" Prince Andrew suddenly decided
+finally and decisively. "It is not enough for me to know what I have in
+me--everyone must know it: Pierre, and that young girl who wanted to fly
+away into the sky, everyone must know me, so that my life may not be
+lived for myself alone while others live so apart from it, but so that
+it may be reflected in them all, and they and I may live in harmony!"
+
+On reaching home Prince Andrew decided to go to Petersburg that autumn
+and found all sorts of reasons for this decision. A whole series of
+sensible and logical considerations showing it to be essential for him
+to go to Petersburg, and even to re-enter the service, kept springing up
+in his mind. He could not now understand how he could ever even have
+doubted the necessity of taking an active share in life, just as a month
+before he had not understood how the idea of leaving the quiet country
+could ever enter his head. It now seemed clear to him that all his
+experience of life must be senselessly wasted unless he applied it to
+some kind of work and again played an active part in life. He did not
+even remember how formerly, on the strength of similar wretched logical
+arguments, it had seemed obvious that he would be degrading himself if
+he now, after the lessons he had had in life, allowed himself to believe
+in the possibility of being useful and in the possibility of happiness
+or love. Now reason suggested quite the opposite. After that journey to
+Ryazan he found the country dull; his former pursuits no longer
+interested him, and often when sitting alone in his study he got up,
+went to the mirror, and gazed a long time at his own face. Then he would
+turn away to the portrait of his dead Lise, who with hair curled a la
+grecque looked tenderly and gaily at him out of the gilt frame. She did
+not now say those former terrible words to him, but looked simply,
+merrily, and inquisitively at him. And Prince Andrew, crossing his arms
+behind him, long paced the room, now frowning, now smiling, as he
+reflected on those irrational, inexpressible thoughts, secret as a
+crime, which altered his whole life and were connected with Pierre, with
+fame, with the girl at the window, the oak, and woman's beauty and love.
+And if anyone came into his room at such moments he was particularly
+cold, stern, and above all unpleasantly logical.
+
+"My dear," Princess Mary entering at such a moment would say, "little
+Nicholas can't go out today, it's very cold."
+
+"If it were hot," Prince Andrew would reply at such times very dryly to
+his sister, "he could go out in his smock, but as it is cold he must
+wear warm clothes, which were designed for that purpose. That is what
+follows from the fact that it is cold; and not that a child who needs
+fresh air should remain at home," he would add with extreme logic, as if
+punishing someone for those secret illogical emotions that stirred
+within him.
+
+At such moments Princess Mary would think how intellectual work dries
+men up.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+Prince Andrew arrived in Petersburg in August, 1809. It was the time
+when the youthful Speranski was at the zenith of his fame and his
+reforms were being pushed forward with the greatest energy. That same
+August the Emperor was thrown from his caleche, injured his leg, and
+remained three weeks at Peterhof, receiving Speranski every day and no
+one else. At that time the two famous decrees were being prepared that
+so agitated society--abolishing court ranks and introducing examinations
+to qualify for the grades of Collegiate Assessor and State Councilor--
+and not merely these but a whole state constitution, intended to change
+the existing order of government in Russia: legal, administrative, and
+financial, from the Council of State down to the district tribunals. Now
+those vague liberal dreams with which the Emperor Alexander had ascended
+the throne, and which he had tried to put into effect with the aid of
+his associates, Czartoryski, Novosiltsev, Kochubey, and Strogonov--whom
+he himself in jest had called his Comite de salut public--were taking
+shape and being realized.
+
+Now all these men were replaced by Speranski on the civil side, and
+Arakcheev on the military. Soon after his arrival Prince Andrew, as a
+gentleman of the chamber, presented himself at court and at a levee. The
+Emperor, though he met him twice, did not favor him with a single word.
+It had always seemed to Prince Andrew before that he was antipathetic to
+the Emperor and that the latter disliked his face and personality
+generally, and in the cold, repellent glance the Emperor gave him, he
+now found further confirmation of this surmise. The courtiers explained
+the Emperor's neglect of him by His Majesty's displeasure at Bolkonski's
+not having served since 1805.
+
+"I know myself that one cannot help one's sympathies and antipathies,"
+thought Prince Andrew, "so it will not do to present my proposal for the
+reform of the army regulations to the Emperor personally, but the
+project will speak for itself."
+
+He mentioned what he had written to an old field marshal, a friend of
+his father's. The field marshal made an appointment to see him, received
+him graciously, and promised to inform the Emperor. A few days later
+Prince Andrew received notice that he was to go to see the Minister of
+War, Count Arakcheev.
+
+On the appointed day Prince Andrew entered Count Arakcheev's waiting
+room at nine in the morning.
+
+He did not know Arakcheev personally, had never seen him, and all he had
+heard of him inspired him with but little respect for the man.
+
+"He is Minister of War, a man trusted by the Emperor, and I need not
+concern myself about his personal qualities: he has been commissioned to
+consider my project, so he alone can get it adopted," thought Prince
+Andrew as he waited among a number of important and unimportant people
+in Count Arakcheev's waiting room.
+
+During his service, chiefly as an adjutant, Prince Andrew had seen the
+anterooms of many important men, and the different types of such rooms
+were well known to him. Count Arakcheev's anteroom had quite a special
+character. The faces of the unimportant people awaiting their turn for
+an audience showed embarrassment and servility; the faces of those of
+higher rank expressed a common feeling of awkwardness, covered by a mask
+of unconcern and ridicule of themselves, their situation, and the person
+for whom they were waiting. Some walked thoughtfully up and down, others
+whispered and laughed. Prince Andrew heard the nickname "Sila
+Andreevich" and the words, "Uncle will give it to us hot," in reference
+to Count Arakcheev. One general (an important personage), evidently
+feeling offended at having to wait so long, sat crossing and uncrossing
+his legs and smiling contemptuously to himself.
+
+But the moment the door opened one feeling alone appeared on all faces--
+that of fear. Prince Andrew for the second time asked the adjutant on
+duty to take in his name, but received an ironical look and was told
+that his turn would come in due course. After some others had been shown
+in and out of the minister's room by the adjutant on duty, an officer
+who struck Prince Andrew by his humiliated and frightened air was
+admitted at that terrible door. This officer's audience lasted a long
+time. Then suddenly the grating sound of a harsh voice was heard from
+the other side of the door, and the officer--with pale face and
+trembling lips--came out and passed through the waiting room, clutching
+his head.
+
+After this Prince Andrew was conducted to the door and the officer on
+duty said in a whisper, "To the right, at the window."
+
+Prince Andrew entered a plain tidy room and saw at the table a man of
+forty with a long waist, a long closely cropped head, deep wrinkles,
+scowling brows above dull greenish-hazel eyes and an overhanging red
+nose. Arakcheev turned his head toward him without looking at him.
+
+"What is your petition?" asked Arakcheev.
+
+"I am not petitioning, your excellency," returned Prince Andrew quietly.
+
+Arakcheev's eyes turned toward him.
+
+"Sit down," said he. "Prince Bolkonski?"
+
+"I am not petitioning about anything. His Majesty the Emperor has
+deigned to send your excellency a project submitted by me..."
+
+"You see, my dear sir, I have read your project," interrupted Arakcheev,
+uttering only the first words amiably and then--again without looking at
+Prince Andrew--relapsing gradually into a tone of grumbling contempt.
+"You are proposing new military laws? There are many laws but no one to
+carry out the old ones. Nowadays everybody designs laws, it is easier
+writing than doing."
+
+"I came at His Majesty the Emperor's wish to learn from your excellency
+how you propose to deal with the memorandum I have presented," said
+Prince Andrew politely.
+
+"I have endorsed a resolution on your memorandum and sent it to the
+committee. I do not approve of it," said Arakcheev, rising and taking a
+paper from his writing table. "Here!" and he handed it to Prince Andrew.
+
+Across the paper was scrawled in pencil, without capital letters,
+misspelled, and without punctuation: "Unsoundly constructed because
+resembles an imitation of the French military code and from the Articles
+of War needlessly deviating."
+
+"To what committee has the memorandum been referred?" inquired Prince
+Andrew.
+
+"To the Committee on Army Regulations, and I have recommended that your
+honor should be appointed a member, but without a salary."
+
+Prince Andrew smiled.
+
+"I don't want one."
+
+"A member without salary," repeated Arakcheev. "I have the honor... Eh!
+Call the next one! Who else is there?" he shouted, bowing to Prince
+Andrew.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+While waiting for the announcement of his appointment to the committee
+Prince Andrew looked up his former acquaintances, particularly those he
+knew to be in power and whose aid he might need. In Petersburg he now
+experienced the same feeling he had had on the eve of a battle, when
+troubled by anxious curiosity and irresistibly attracted to the ruling
+circles where the future, on which the fate of millions depended, was
+being shaped. From the irritation of the older men, the curiosity of the
+uninitiated, the reserve of the initiated, the hurry and preoccupation
+of everyone, and the innumerable committees and commissions of whose
+existence he learned every day, he felt that now, in 1809, here in
+Petersburg a vast civil conflict was in preparation, the commander in
+chief of which was a mysterious person he did not know, but who was
+supposed to be a man of genius--Speranski. And this movement of
+reconstruction of which Prince Andrew had a vague idea, and Speranski
+its chief promoter, began to interest him so keenly that the question of
+the army regulations quickly receded to a secondary place in his
+consciousness.
+
+Prince Andrew was most favorably placed to secure good reception in the
+highest and most diverse Petersburg circles of the day. The reforming
+party cordially welcomed and courted him, in the first place because he
+was reputed to be clever and very well read, and secondly because by
+liberating his serfs he had obtained the reputation of being a liberal.
+The party of the old and dissatisfied, who censured the innovations,
+turned to him expecting his sympathy in their disapproval of the
+reforms, simply because he was the son of his father. The feminine
+society world welcomed him gladly, because he was rich, distinguished, a
+good match, and almost a newcomer, with a halo of romance on account of
+his supposed death and the tragic loss of his wife. Besides this the
+general opinion of all who had known him previously was that he had
+greatly improved during these last five years, having softened and grown
+more manly, lost his former affectation, pride, and contemptuous irony,
+and acquired the serenity that comes with years. People talked about
+him, were interested in him, and wanted to meet him.
+
+The day after his interview with Count Arakcheev, Prince Andrew spent
+the evening at Count Kochubey's. He told the count of his interview with
+Sila Andreevich (Kochubey spoke of Arakcheev by that nickname with the
+same vague irony Prince Andrew had noticed in the Minister of War's
+anteroom).
+
+"Mon cher, even in this case you can't do without Michael Mikhaylovich
+Speranski. He manages everything. I'll speak to him. He has promised to
+come this evening."
+
+"What has Speranski to do with the army regulations?" asked Prince
+Andrew.
+
+Kochubey shook his head smilingly, as if surprised at Bolkonski's
+simplicity.
+
+"We were talking to him about you a few days ago," Kochubey continued,
+"and about your freed plowmen."
+
+"Oh, is it you, Prince, who have freed your serfs?" said an old man of
+Catherine's day, turning contemptuously toward Bolkonski.
+
+"It was a small estate that brought in no profit," replied Prince
+Andrew, trying to extenuate his action so as not to irritate the old man
+uselessly.
+
+"Afraid of being late..." said the old man, looking at Kochubey.
+
+"There's one thing I don't understand," he continued. "Who will plow the
+land if they are set free? It is easy to write laws, but difficult to
+rule.... Just the same as now--I ask you, Count--who will be heads of
+the departments when everybody has to pass examinations?"
+
+"Those who pass the examinations, I suppose," replied Kochubey, crossing
+his legs and glancing round.
+
+"Well, I have Pryanichnikov serving under me, a splendid man, a
+priceless man, but he's sixty. Is he to go up for examination?"
+
+"Yes, that's a difficulty, as education is not at all general, but..."
+
+Count Kochubey did not finish. He rose, took Prince Andrew by the arm,
+and went to meet a tall, bald, fair man of about forty with a large open
+forehead and a long face of unusual and peculiar whiteness, who was just
+entering. The newcomer wore a blue swallow-tail coat with a cross
+suspended from his neck and a star on his left breast. It was Speranski.
+Prince Andrew recognized him at once, and felt a throb within him, as
+happens at critical moments of life. Whether it was from respect, envy,
+or anticipation, he did not know. Speranski's whole figure was of a
+peculiar type that made him easily recognizable. In the society in which
+Prince Andrew lived he had never seen anyone who together with awkward
+and clumsy gestures possessed such calmness and self-assurance; he had
+never seen so resolute yet gentle an expression as that in those half-
+closed, rather humid eyes, or so firm a smile that expressed nothing;
+nor had he heard such a refined, smooth, soft voice; above all he had
+never seen such delicate whiteness of face or hands--hands which were
+broad, but very plump, soft, and white. Such whiteness and softness
+Prince Andrew had only seen on the faces of soldiers who had been long
+in hospital. This was Speranski, Secretary of State, reporter to the
+Emperor and his companion at Erfurt, where he had more than once met and
+talked with Napoleon.
+
+Speranski did not shift his eyes from one face to another as people
+involuntarily do on entering a large company and was in no hurry to
+speak. He spoke slowly, with assurance that he would be listened to, and
+he looked only at the person with whom he was conversing.
+
+Prince Andrew followed Speranski's every word and movement with
+particular attention. As happens to some people, especially to men who
+judge those near to them severely, he always on meeting anyone new--
+especially anyone whom, like Speranski, he knew by reputation--expected
+to discover in him the perfection of human qualities.
+
+Speranski told Kochubey he was sorry he had been unable to come sooner
+as he had been detained at the palace. He did not say that the Emperor
+had kept him, and Prince Andrew noticed this affectation of modesty.
+When Kochubey introduced Prince Andrew, Speranski slowly turned his eyes
+to Bolkonski with his customary smile and looked at him in silence.
+
+"I am very glad to make your acquaintance. I had heard of you, as
+everyone has," he said after a pause.
+
+Kochubey said a few words about the reception Arakcheev had given
+Bolkonski. Speranski smiled more markedly.
+
+"The chairman of the Committee on Army Regulations is my good friend
+Monsieur Magnitski," he said, fully articulating every word and
+syllable, "and if you like I can put you in touch with him." He paused
+at the full stop. "I hope you will find him sympathetic and ready to co-
+operate in promoting all that is reasonable."
+
+A circle soon formed round Speranski, and the old man who had talked
+about his subordinate Pryanichnikov addressed a question to him.
+
+Prince Andrew without joining in the conversation watched every movement
+of Speranski's: this man, not long since an insignificant divinity
+student, who now, Bolkonski thought, held in his hands--those plump
+white hands--the fate of Russia. Prince Andrew was struck by the
+extraordinarily disdainful composure with which Speranski answered the
+old man. He appeared to address condescending words to him from an
+immeasurable height. When the old man began to speak too loud, Speranski
+smiled and said he could not judge of the advantage or disadvantage of
+what pleased the sovereign.
+
+Having talked for a little while in the general circle, Speranski rose
+and coming up to Prince Andrew took him along to the other end of the
+room. It was clear that he thought it necessary to interest himself in
+Bolkonski.
+
+"I had no chance to talk with you, Prince, during the animated
+conversation in which that venerable gentleman involved me," he said
+with a mildly contemptuous smile, as if intimating by that smile that he
+and Prince Andrew understood the insignificance of the people with whom
+he had just been talking. This flattered Prince Andrew. "I have known of
+you for a long time: first from your action with regard to your serfs, a
+first example, of which it is very desirable that there should be more
+imitators; and secondly because you are one of those gentlemen of the
+chamber who have not considered themselves offended by the new decree
+concerning the ranks allotted to courtiers, which is causing so much
+gossip and tittle-tattle."
+
+"No," said Prince Andrew, "my father did not wish me to take advantage
+of the privilege. I began the service from the lower grade."
+
+"Your father, a man of the last century, evidently stands above our
+contemporaries who so condemn this measure which merely reestablishes
+natural justice."
+
+"I think, however, that these condemnations have some ground," returned
+Prince Andrew, trying to resist Speranski's influence, of which he began
+to be conscious. He did not like to agree with him in everything and
+felt a wish to contradict. Though he usually spoke easily and well, he
+felt a difficulty in expressing himself now while talking with
+Speranski. He was too much absorbed in observing the famous man's
+personality.
+
+"Grounds of personal ambition maybe," Speranski put in quietly.
+
+"And of state interest to some extent," said Prince Andrew.
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Speranski quietly, lowering his eyes.
+
+"I am an admirer of Montesquieu," replied Prince Andrew, "and his idea
+that le principe des monarchies est l'honneur me parait incontestable.
+Certains droits et privileges de la noblesse me paraissent etre des
+moyens de soutenir ce sentiment." *
+
+
+* "The principle of monarchies is honor seems to me incontestable.
+Certain rights and privileges for the aristocracy appear to me a means
+of maintaining that sentiment."
+
+The smile vanished from Speranski's white face, which was much improved
+by the change. Probably Prince Andrew's thought interested him.
+
+"Si vous envisagez la question sous ce point de vue," * he began,
+pronouncing French with evident difficulty, and speaking even slower
+than in Russian but quite calmly.
+
+
+* "If you regard the question from that point of view."
+
+Speranski went on to say that honor, l'honneur, cannot be upheld by
+privileges harmful to the service; that honor, l'honneur, is either a
+negative concept of not doing what is blameworthy or it is a source of
+emulation in pursuit of commendation and rewards, which recognize it.
+His arguments were concise, simple, and clear.
+
+"An institution upholding honor, the source of emulation, is one similar
+to the Legion d'honneur of the great Emperor Napoleon, not harmful but
+helpful to the success of the service, but not a class or court
+privilege."
+
+"I do not dispute that, but it cannot be denied that court privileges
+have attained the same end," returned Prince Andrew. "Every courtier
+considers himself bound to maintain his position worthily."
+
+"Yet you do not care to avail yourself of the privilege, Prince," said
+Speranski, indicating by a smile that he wished to finish amiably an
+argument which was embarrassing for his companion. "If you will do me
+the honor of calling on me on Wednesday," he added, "I will, after
+talking with Magnitski, let you know what may interest you, and shall
+also have the pleasure of a more detailed chat with you."
+
+Closing his eyes, he bowed a la francaise, without taking leave, and
+trying to attract as little attention as possible, he left the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+During the first weeks of his stay in Petersburg Prince Andrew felt the
+whole trend of thought he had formed during his life of seclusion quite
+overshadowed by the trifling cares that engrossed him in that city.
+
+On returning home in the evening he would jot down in his notebook four
+or five necessary calls or appointments for certain hours. The mechanism
+of life, the arrangement of the day so as to be in time everywhere,
+absorbed the greater part of his vital energy. He did nothing, did not
+even think or find time to think, but only talked, and talked
+successfully, of what he had thought while in the country.
+
+He sometimes noticed with dissatisfaction that he repeated the same
+remark on the same day in different circles. But he was so busy for
+whole days together that he had no time to notice that he was thinking
+of nothing.
+
+As he had done on their first meeting at Kochubey's, Speranski produced
+a strong impression on Prince Andrew on the Wednesday, when he received
+him tête-à-tête at his own house and talked to him long and
+confidentially.
+
+To Bolkonski so many people appeared contemptible and insignificant
+creatures, and he so longed to find in someone the living ideal of that
+perfection toward which he strove, that he readily believed that in
+Speranski he had found this ideal of a perfectly rational and virtuous
+man. Had Speranski sprung from the same class as himself and possessed
+the same breeding and traditions, Bolkonski would soon have discovered
+his weak, human, unheroic sides; but as it was, Speranski's strange and
+logical turn of mind inspired him with respect all the more because he
+did not quite understand him. Moreover, Speranski, either because he
+appreciated the other's capacity or because he considered it necessary
+to win him to his side, showed off his dispassionate calm reasonableness
+before Prince Andrew and flattered him with that subtle flattery which
+goes hand in hand with self-assurance and consists in a tacit assumption
+that one's companion is the only man besides oneself capable of
+understanding the folly of the rest of mankind and the reasonableness
+and profundity of one's own ideas.
+
+During their long conversation on Wednesday evening, Speranski more than
+once remarked: "We regard everything that is above the common level of
+rooted custom..." or, with a smile: "But we want the wolves to be fed
+and the sheep to be safe..." or: "They cannot understand this..." and
+all in a way that seemed to say: "We, you and I, understand what they
+are and who we are."
+
+This first long conversation with Speranski only strengthened in Prince
+Andrew the feeling he had experienced toward him at their first meeting.
+He saw in him a remarkable, clear-thinking man of vast intellect who by
+his energy and persistence had attained power, which he was using solely
+for the welfare of Russia. In Prince Andrew's eyes Speranski was the man
+he would himself have wished to be--one who explained all the facts of
+life reasonably, considered important only what was rational, and was
+capable of applying the standard of reason to everything. Everything
+seemed so simple and clear in Speranski's exposition that Prince Andrew
+involuntarily agreed with him about everything. If he replied and
+argued, it was only because he wished to maintain his independence and
+not submit to Speranski's opinions entirely. Everything was right and
+everything was as it should be: only one thing disconcerted Prince
+Andrew. This was Speranski's cold, mirrorlike look, which did not allow
+one to penetrate to his soul, and his delicate white hands, which Prince
+Andrew involuntarily watched as one does watch the hands of those who
+possess power. This mirrorlike gaze and those delicate hands irritated
+Prince Andrew, he knew not why. He was unpleasantly struck, too, by the
+excessive contempt for others that he observed in Speranski, and by the
+diversity of lines of argument he used to support his opinions. He made
+use of every kind of mental device, except analogy, and passed too
+boldly, it seemed to Prince Andrew, from one to another. Now he would
+take up the position of a practical man and condemn dreamers; now that
+of a satirist, and laugh ironically at his opponents; now grow severely
+logical, or suddenly rise to the realm of metaphysics. (This last
+resource was one he very frequently employed.) He would transfer a
+question to metaphysical heights, pass on to definitions of space, time,
+and thought, and, having deduced the refutation he needed, would again
+descend to the level of the original discussion.
+
+In general the trait of Speranski's mentality which struck Prince Andrew
+most was his absolute and unshakable belief in the power and authority
+of reason. It was evident that the thought could never occur to him
+which to Prince Andrew seemed so natural, namely, that it is after all
+impossible to express all one thinks; and that he had never felt the
+doubt, "Is not all I think and believe nonsense?" And it was just this
+peculiarity of Speranski's mind that particularly attracted Prince
+Andrew.
+
+During the first period of their acquaintance Bolkonski felt a
+passionate admiration for him similar to that which he had once felt for
+Bonaparte. The fact that Speranski was the son of a village priest, and
+that stupid people might meanly despise him on account of his humble
+origin (as in fact many did), caused Prince Andrew to cherish his
+sentiment for him the more, and unconsciously to strengthen it.
+
+On that first evening Bolkonski spent with him, having mentioned the
+Commission for the Revision of the Code of Laws, Speranski told him
+sarcastically that the Commission had existed for a hundred and fifty
+years, had cost millions, and had done nothing except that Rosenkampf
+had stuck labels on the corresponding paragraphs of the different codes.
+
+"And that is all the state has for the millions it has spent," said he.
+"We want to give the Senate new juridical powers, but we have no laws.
+That is why it is a sin for men like you, Prince, not to serve in these
+times!"
+
+Prince Andrew said that for that work an education in jurisprudence was
+needed which he did not possess.
+
+"But nobody possesses it, so what would you have? It is a vicious circle
+from which we must break a way out."
+
+A week later Prince Andrew was a member of the Committee on Army
+Regulations and--what he had not at all expected--was chairman of a
+section of the committee for the revision of the laws. At Speranski's
+request he took the first part of the Civil Code that was being drawn up
+and, with the aid of the Code Napoleon and the Institutes of Justinian,
+he worked at formulating the section on Personal Rights.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+Nearly two years before this, in 1808, Pierre on returning to Petersburg
+after visiting his estates had involuntarily found himself in a leading
+position among the Petersburg Freemasons. He arranged dining and funeral
+lodge meetings, enrolled new members, and busied himself uniting various
+lodges and acquiring authentic charters. He gave money for the erection
+of temples and supplemented as far as he could the collection of alms,
+in regard to which the majority of members were stingy and irregular. He
+supported almost singlehanded a poorhouse the order had founded in
+Petersburg.
+
+His life meanwhile continued as before, with the same infatuations and
+dissipations. He liked to dine and drink well, and though he considered
+it immoral and humiliating could not resist the temptations of the
+bachelor circles in which he moved.
+
+Amid the turmoil of his activities and distractions, however, Pierre at
+the end of a year began to feel that the more firmly he tried to rest
+upon it, the more masonic ground on which he stood gave way under him.
+At the same time he felt that the deeper the ground sank under him the
+closer bound he involuntarily became to the order. When he had joined
+the Freemasons he had experienced the feeling of one who confidently
+steps onto the smooth surface of a bog. When he put his foot down it
+sank in. To make quite sure of the firmness of the ground, he put his
+other foot down and sank deeper still, became stuck in it, and
+involuntarily waded knee-deep in the bog.
+
+Joseph Alexeevich was not in Petersburg--he had of late stood aside from
+the affairs of the Petersburg lodges, and lived almost entirely in
+Moscow. All the members of the lodges were men Pierre knew in ordinary
+life, and it was difficult for him to regard them merely as Brothers in
+Freemasonry and not as Prince B. or Ivan Vasilevich D., whom he knew in
+society mostly as weak and insignificant men. Under the masonic aprons
+and insignia he saw the uniforms and decorations at which they aimed in
+ordinary life. Often after collecting alms, and reckoning up twenty to
+thirty rubles received for the most part in promises from a dozen
+members, of whom half were as well able to pay as himself, Pierre
+remembered the masonic vow in which each Brother promised to devote all
+his belongings to his neighbor, and doubts on which he tried not to
+dwell arose in his soul.
+
+He divided the Brothers he knew into four categories. In the first he
+put those who did not take an active part in the affairs of the lodges
+or in human affairs, but were exclusively occupied with the mystical
+science of the order: with questions of the threefold designation of
+God, the three primordial elements--sulphur, mercury, and salt--or the
+meaning of the square and all the various figures of the temple of
+Solomon. Pierre respected this class of Brothers to which the elder ones
+chiefly belonged, including, Pierre thought, Joseph Alexeevich himself,
+but he did not share their interests. His heart was not in the mystical
+aspect of Freemasonry.
+
+In the second category Pierre reckoned himself and others like him,
+seeking and vacillating, who had not yet found in Freemasonry a straight
+and comprehensible path, but hoped to do so.
+
+In the third category he included those Brothers (the majority) who saw
+nothing in Freemasonry but the external forms and ceremonies, and prized
+the strict performance of these forms without troubling about their
+purport or significance. Such were Willarski and even the Grand Master
+of the principal lodge.
+
+Finally, to the fourth category also a great many Brothers belonged,
+particularly those who had lately joined. These according to Pierre's
+observations were men who had no belief in anything, nor desire for
+anything, but joined the Freemasons merely to associate with the wealthy
+young Brothers who were influential through their connections or rank,
+and of whom there were very many in the lodge.
+
+Pierre began to feel dissatisfied with what he was doing. Freemasonry,
+at any rate as he saw it here, sometimes seemed to him based merely on
+externals. He did not think of doubting Freemasonry itself, but
+suspected that Russian Masonry had taken a wrong path and deviated from
+its original principles. And so toward the end of the year he went
+abroad to be initiated into the higher secrets of the order.
+
+In the summer of 1809 Pierre returned to Petersburg. Our Freemasons knew
+from correspondence with those abroad that Bezukhov had obtained the
+confidence of many highly placed persons, had been initiated into many
+mysteries, had been raised to a higher grade, and was bringing back with
+him much that might conduce to the advantage of the masonic cause in
+Russia. The Petersburg Freemasons all came to see him, tried to
+ingratiate themselves with him, and it seemed to them all that he was
+preparing something for them and concealing it.
+
+A solemn meeting of the lodge of the second degree was convened, at
+which Pierre promised to communicate to the Petersburg Brothers what he
+had to deliver to them from the highest leaders of their order. The
+meeting was a full one. After the usual ceremonies Pierre rose and began
+his address.
+
+"Dear Brothers," he began, blushing and stammering, with a written
+speech in his hand, "it is not sufficient to observe our mysteries in
+the seclusion of our lodge--we must act--act! We are drowsing, but we
+must act." Pierre raised his notebook and began to read.
+
+"For the dissemination of pure truth and to secure the triumph of
+virtue," he read, "we must cleanse men from prejudice, diffuse
+principles in harmony with the spirit of the times, undertake the
+education of the young, unite ourselves in indissoluble bonds with the
+wisest men, boldly yet prudently overcome superstitions, infidelity, and
+folly, and form of those devoted to us a body linked together by unity
+of purpose and possessed of authority and power.
+
+"To attain this end we must secure a preponderance of virtue over vice
+and must endeavor to secure that the honest man may, even in this world,
+receive a lasting reward for his virtue. But in these great endeavors we
+are gravely hampered by the political institutions of today. What is to
+be done in these circumstances? To favor revolutions, overthrow
+everything, repel force by force?... No! We are very far from that.
+Every violent reform deserves censure, for it quite fails to remedy evil
+while men remain what they are, and also because wisdom needs no
+violence.
+
+"The whole plan of our order should be based on the idea of preparing
+men of firmness and virtue bound together by unity of conviction--aiming
+at the punishment of vice and folly, and patronizing talent and virtue:
+raising worthy men from the dust and attaching them to our Brotherhood.
+Only then will our order have the power unobtrusively to bind the hands
+of the protectors of disorder and to control them without their being
+aware of it. In a word, we must found a form of government holding
+universal sway, which should be diffused over the whole world without
+destroying the bonds of citizenship, and beside which all other
+governments can continue in their customary course and do everything
+except what impedes the great aim of our order, which is to obtain for
+virtue the victory over vice. This aim was that of Christianity itself.
+It taught men to be wise and good and for their own benefit to follow
+the example and instruction of the best and wisest men.
+
+"At that time, when everything was plunged in darkness, preaching alone
+was of course sufficient. The novelty of Truth endowed her with special
+strength, but now we need much more powerful methods. It is now
+necessary that man, governed by his senses, should find in virtue a
+charm palpable to those senses. It is impossible to eradicate the
+passions; but we must strive to direct them to a noble aim, and it is
+therefore necessary that everyone should be able to satisfy his passions
+within the limits of virtue. Our order should provide means to that end.
+
+"As soon as we have a certain number of worthy men in every state, each
+of them again training two others and all being closely united,
+everything will be possible for our order, which has already in secret
+accomplished much for the welfare of mankind."
+
+This speech not only made a strong impression, but created excitement in
+the lodge. The majority of the Brothers, seeing in it dangerous designs
+of Illuminism, * met it with a coldness that surprised Pierre. The Grand
+Master began answering him, and Pierre began developing his views with
+more and more warmth. It was long since there had been so stormy a
+meeting. Parties were formed, some accusing Pierre of Illuminism, others
+supporting him. At that meeting he was struck for the first time by the
+endless variety of men's minds, which prevents a truth from ever
+presenting itself identically to two persons. Even those members who
+seemed to be on his side understood him in their own way with
+limitations and alterations he could not agree to, as what he always
+wanted most was to convey his thought to others just as he himself
+understood it.
+
+
+* The Illuminati sought to substitute republican for monarchical
+institutions.
+
+At the end of the meeting the Grand Master with irony and ill-will
+reproved Bezukhov for his vehemence and said it was not love of virtue
+alone, but also a love of strife that had moved him in the dispute.
+Pierre did not answer him and asked briefly whether his proposal would
+be accepted. He was told that it would not, and without waiting for the
+usual formalities he left the lodge and went home.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+Again Pierre was overtaken by the depression he so dreaded. For three
+days after the delivery of his speech at the lodge he lay on a sofa at
+home receiving no one and going nowhere.
+
+It was just then that he received a letter from his wife, who implored
+him to see her, telling him how grieved she was about him and how she
+wished to devote her whole life to him.
+
+At the end of the letter she informed him that in a few days she would
+return to Petersburg from abroad.
+
+Following this letter one of the masonic Brothers whom Pierre respected
+less than the others forced his way in to see him and, turning the
+conversation upon Pierre's matrimonial affairs, by way of fraternal
+advice expressed the opinion that his severity to his wife was wrong and
+that he was neglecting one of the first rules of Freemasonry by not
+forgiving the penitent.
+
+At the same time his mother-in-law, Prince Vasili's wife, sent to him
+imploring him to come if only for a few minutes to discuss a most
+important matter. Pierre saw that there was a conspiracy against him and
+that they wanted to reunite him with his wife, and in the mood he then
+was, this was not even unpleasant to him. Nothing mattered to him.
+Nothing in life seemed to him of much importance, and under the
+influence of the depression that possessed him he valued neither his
+liberty nor his resolution to punish his wife.
+
+"No one is right and no one is to blame; so she too is not to blame," he
+thought.
+
+If he did not at once give his consent to a reunion with his wife, it
+was only because in his state of depression he did not feel able to take
+any step. Had his wife come to him, he would not have turned her away.
+Compared to what preoccupied him, was it not a matter of indifference
+whether he lived with his wife or not?
+
+Without replying either to his wife or his mother-in-law, Pierre late
+one night prepared for a journey and started for Moscow to see Joseph
+Alexeevich. This is what he noted in his diary:
+
+Moscow, 17th November
+
+I have just returned from my benefactor, and hasten to write down what I
+have experienced. Joseph Alexeevich is living poorly and has for three
+years been suffering from a painful disease of the bladder. No one has
+ever heard him utter a groan or a word of complaint. From morning till
+late at night, except when he eats his very plain food, he is working at
+science. He received me graciously and made me sit down on the bed on
+which he lay. I made the sign of the Knights of the East and of
+Jerusalem, and he responded in the same manner, asking me with a mild
+smile what I had learned and gained in the Prussian and Scottish lodges.
+I told him everything as best I could, and told him what I had proposed
+to our Petersburg lodge, of the bad reception I had encountered, and of
+my rupture with the Brothers. Joseph Alexeevich, having remained silent
+and thoughtful for a good while, told me his view of the matter, which
+at once lit up for me my whole past and the future path I should follow.
+He surprised me by asking whether I remembered the threefold aim of the
+order: (1) The preservation and study of the mystery. (2) The
+purification and reformation of oneself for its reception, and (3) The
+improvement of the human race by striving for such purification. Which
+is the principal aim of these three? Certainly self-reformation and
+self-purification. Only to this aim can we always strive independently
+of circumstances. But at the same time just this aim demands the
+greatest efforts of us; and so, led astray by pride, losing sight of
+this aim, we occupy ourselves either with the mystery which in our
+impurity we are unworthy to receive, or seek the reformation of the
+human race while ourselves setting an example of baseness and
+profligacy. Illuminism is not a pure doctrine, just because it is
+attracted by social activity and puffed up by pride. On this ground
+Joseph Alexeevich condemned my speech and my whole activity, and in the
+depth of my soul I agreed with him. Talking of my family affairs he said
+to me, "the chief duty of a true Mason, as I have told you, lies in
+perfecting himself. We often think that by removing all the difficulties
+of our life we shall more quickly reach our aim, but on the contrary, my
+dear sir, it is only in the midst of worldly cares that we can attain
+our three chief aims: (1) Self-knowledge--for man can only know himself
+by comparison, (2) Self-perfecting, which can only be attained by
+conflict, and (3) The attainment of the chief virtue--love of death.
+Only the vicissitudes of life can show us its vanity and develop our
+innate love of death or of rebirth to a new life." These words are all
+the more remarkable because, in spite of his great physical sufferings,
+Joseph Alexeevich is never weary of life though he loves death, for
+which--in spite of the purity and loftiness of his inner man--he does
+not yet feel himself sufficiently prepared. My benefactor then explained
+to me fully the meaning of the Great Square of creation and pointed out
+to me that the numbers three and seven are the basis of everything. He
+advised me not to avoid intercourse with the Petersburg Brothers, but to
+take up only second-grade posts in the lodge, to try, while diverting
+the Brothers from pride, to turn them toward the true path self-
+knowledge and self-perfecting. Besides this he advised me for myself
+personally above all to keep a watch over myself, and to that end he
+gave me a notebook, the one I am now writing in and in which I will in
+future note down all my actions.
+
+Petersburg, 23rd November
+
+I am again living with my wife. My mother-in-law came to me in tears and
+said that Helene was here and that she implored me to hear her; that she
+was innocent and unhappy at my desertion, and much more. I knew that if
+I once let myself see her I should not have strength to go on refusing
+what she wanted. In my perplexity I did not know whose aid and advice to
+seek. Had my benefactor been here he would have told me what to do. I
+went to my room and reread Joseph Alexeevich's letters and recalled my
+conversations with him, and deduced from it all that I ought not to
+refuse a supplicant, and ought to reach a helping hand to everyone--
+especially to one so closely bound to me--and that I must bear my cross.
+But if I forgive her for the sake of doing right, then let union with
+her have only a spiritual aim. That is what I decided, and what I wrote
+to Joseph Alexeevich. I told my wife that I begged her to forget the
+past, to forgive me whatever wrong I may have done her, and that I had
+nothing to forgive. It gave me joy to tell her this. She need not know
+how hard it was for me to see her again. I have settled on the upper
+floor of this big house and am experiencing a happy feeling of
+regeneration.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+At that time, as always happens, the highest society that met at court
+and at the grand balls was divided into several circles, each with its
+own particular tone. The largest of these was the French circle of the
+Napoleonic alliance, the circle of Count Rumyantsev and Caulaincourt. In
+this group Helene, as soon as she had settled in Petersburg with her
+husband, took a very prominent place. She was visited by the members of
+the French embassy and by many belonging to that circle and noted for
+their intellect and polished manners.
+
+Helene had been at Erfurt during the famous meeting of the Emperors and
+had brought from there these connections with the Napoleonic
+notabilities. At Erfurt her success had been brilliant. Napoleon himself
+had noticed her in the theater and said of her: "C'est un superbe
+animal." * Her success as a beautiful and elegant woman did not surprise
+Pierre, for she had become even handsomer than before. What did surprise
+him was that during these last two years his wife had succeeded in
+gaining the reputation "d' une femme charmante, aussi spirituelle que
+belle." *(2) The distinguished Prince de Ligne wrote her eight-page
+letters. Bilibin saved up his epigrams to produce them in Countess
+Bezukhova's presence. To be received in the Countess Bezukhova's salon
+was regarded as a diploma of intellect. Young men read books before
+attending Helene's evenings, to have something to say in her salon, and
+secretaries of the embassy, and even ambassadors, confided diplomatic
+secrets to her, so that in a way Helene was a power. Pierre, who knew
+she was very stupid, sometimes attended, with a strange feeling of
+perplexity and fear, her evenings and dinner parties, where politics,
+poetry, and philosophy were discussed. At these parties his feelings
+were like those of a conjuror who always expects his trick to be found
+out at any moment. But whether because stupidity was just what was
+needed to run such a salon, or because those who were deceived found
+pleasure in the deception, at any rate it remained unexposed and Helene
+Bezukhova's reputation as a lovely and clever woman became so firmly
+established that she could say the emptiest and stupidest things and
+everybody would go into raptures over every word of hers and look for a
+profound meaning in it of which she herself had no conception.
+
+
+* "That's a superb animal."
+
+* (2) "Of a charming woman, as witty as she is lovely."
+
+Pierre was just the husband needed for a brilliant society woman. He was
+that absent-minded crank, a grand seigneur husband who was in no one's
+way, and far from spoiling the high tone and general impression of the
+drawing room, he served, by the contrast he presented to her, as an
+advantageous background to his elegant and tactful wife. Pierre during
+the last two years, as a result of his continual absorption in abstract
+interests and his sincere contempt for all else, had acquired in his
+wife's circle, which did not interest him, that air of unconcern,
+indifference, and benevolence toward all, which cannot be acquired
+artificially and therefore inspires involuntary respect. He entered his
+wife's drawing room as one enters a theater, was acquainted with
+everybody, equally pleased to see everyone, and equally indifferent to
+them all. Sometimes he joined in a conversation which interested him
+and, regardless of whether any "gentlemen of the embassy" were present
+or not, lispingly expressed his views, which were sometimes not at all
+in accord with the accepted tone of the moment. But the general opinion
+concerning the queer husband of "the most distinguished woman in
+Petersburg" was so well established that no one took his freaks
+seriously.
+
+Among the many young men who frequented her house every day, Boris
+Drubetskoy, who had already achieved great success in the service, was
+the most intimate friend of the Bezukhov household since Helene's return
+from Erfurt. Helene spoke of him as "mon page" and treated him like a
+child. Her smile for him was the same as for everybody, but sometimes
+that smile made Pierre uncomfortable. Toward him Boris behaved with a
+particularly dignified and sad deference. This shade of deference also
+disturbed Pierre. He had suffered so painfully three years before from
+the mortification to which his wife had subjected him that he now
+protected himself from the danger of its repetition, first by not being
+a husband to his wife, and secondly by not allowing himself to suspect.
+
+"No, now that she has become a bluestocking she has finally renounced
+her former infatuations," he told himself. "There has never been an
+instance of a bluestocking being carried away by affairs of the heart"--
+a statement which, though gathered from an unknown source, he believed
+implicitly. Yet strange to say Boris' presence in his wife's drawing
+room (and he was almost always there) had a physical effect upon Pierre;
+it constricted his limbs and destroyed the unconsciousness and freedom
+of his movements.
+
+"What a strange antipathy," thought Pierre, "yet I used to like him very
+much."
+
+In the eyes of the world Pierre was a great gentleman, the rather blind
+and absurd husband of a distinguished wife, a clever crank who did
+nothing but harmed nobody and was a first-rate, good-natured fellow. But
+a complex and difficult process of internal development was taking place
+all this time in Pierre's soul, revealing much to him and causing him
+many spiritual doubts and joys.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+Pierre went on with his diary, and this is what he wrote in it during
+that time:
+
+24th November
+
+Got up at eight, read the Scriptures, then went to my duties. (By Joseph
+Alexeevich's advice Pierre had entered the service of the state and
+served on one of the committees.) Returned home for dinner and dined
+alone--the countess had many visitors I do not like. I ate and drank
+moderately and after dinner copied out some passages for the Brothers.
+In the evening I went down to the countess and told a funny story about
+B., and only remembered that I ought not to have done so when everybody
+laughed loudly at it.
+
+I am going to bed with a happy and tranquil mind. Great God, help me to
+walk in Thy paths, (1) to conquer anger by calmness and deliberation,
+(2) to vanquish lust by self-restraint and repulsion, (3) to withdraw
+from worldliness, but not avoid (a) the service of the state, (b) family
+duties, (c) relations with my friends, and the management of my affairs.
+
+27th November
+
+I got up late. On waking I lay long in bed yielding to sloth. O God,
+help and strengthen me that I may walk in Thy ways! Read the Scriptures,
+but without proper feeling. Brother Urusov came and we talked about
+worldly vanities. He told me of the Emperor's new projects. I began to
+criticize them, but remembered my rules and my benefactor's words--that
+a true Freemason should be a zealous worker for the state when his aid
+is required and a quiet onlooker when not called on to assist. My tongue
+is my enemy. Brothers G. V. and O. visited me and we had a preliminary
+talk about the reception of a new Brother. They laid on me the duty of
+Rhetor. I feel myself weak and unworthy. Then our talk turned to the
+interpretation of the seven pillars and steps of the Temple, the seven
+sciences, the seven virtues, the seven vices, and the seven gifts of the
+Holy Spirit. Brother O. was very eloquent. In the evening the admission
+took place. The new decoration of the Premises contributed much to the
+magnificence of the spectacle. It was Boris Drubetskoy who was admitted.
+I nominated him and was the Rhetor. A strange feeling agitated me all
+the time I was alone with him in the dark chamber. I caught myself
+harboring a feeling of hatred toward him which I vainly tried to
+overcome. That is why I should really like to save him from evil and
+lead him into the path of truth, but evil thoughts of him did not leave
+me. It seemed to me that his object in entering the Brotherhood was
+merely to be intimate and in favor with members of our lodge. Apart from
+the fact that he had asked me several times whether N. and S. were
+members of our lodge (a question to which I could not reply) and that
+according to my observation he is incapable of feeling respect for our
+holy order and is too preoccupied and satisfied with the outer man to
+desire spiritual improvement, I had no cause to doubt him, but he seemed
+to me insincere, and all the time I stood alone with him in the dark
+temple it seemed to me that he was smiling contemptuously at my words,
+and I wished really to stab his bare breast with the sword I held to it.
+I could not be eloquent, nor could I frankly mention my doubts to the
+Brothers and to the Grand Master. Great Architect of Nature, help me to
+find the true path out of the labyrinth of lies!
+
+
+After this, three pages were left blank in the diary, and then the
+following was written:
+
+I have had a long and instructive talk alone with Brother V., who
+advised me to hold fast by Brother A. Though I am unworthy, much was
+revealed to me. Adonai is the name of the creator of the world. Elohim
+is the name of the ruler of all. The third name is the name unutterable
+which means the All. Talks with Brother V. strengthen, refresh, and
+support me in the path of virtue. In his presence doubt has no place.
+The distinction between the poor teachings of mundane science and our
+sacred all-embracing teaching is clear to me. Human sciences dissect
+everything to comprehend it, and kill everything to examine it. In the
+holy science of our order all is one, all is known in its entirety and
+life. The Trinity--the three elements of matter--are sulphur, mercury,
+and salt. Sulphur is of an oily and fiery nature; in combination with
+salt by its fiery nature it arouses a desire in the latter by means of
+which it attracts mercury, seizes it, holds it, and in combination
+produces other bodies. Mercury is a fluid, volatile, spiritual essence.
+Christ, the Holy Spirit, Him!...
+
+3rd December
+
+Awoke late, read the Scriptures but was apathetic. Afterwards went and
+paced up and down the large hall. I wished to meditate, but instead my
+imagination pictured an occurrence of four years ago, when Dolokhov,
+meeting me in Moscow after our duel, said he hoped I was enjoying
+perfect peace of mind in spite of my wife's absence. At the time I gave
+him no answer. Now I recalled every detail of that meeting and in my
+mind gave him the most malevolent and bitter replies. I recollected
+myself and drove away that thought only when I found myself glowing with
+anger, but I did not sufficiently repent. Afterwards Boris Drubetskoy
+came and began relating various adventures. His coming vexed me from the
+first, and I said something disagreeable to him. He replied. I flared up
+and said much that was unpleasant and even rude to him. He became
+silent, and I recollected myself only when it was too late. My God, I
+cannot get on with him at all. The cause of this is my egotism. I set
+myself above him and so become much worse than he, for he is lenient to
+my rudeness while I on the contrary nourish contempt for him. O God,
+grant that in his presence I may rather see my own vileness, and behave
+so that he too may benefit. After dinner I fell asleep and as I was
+drowsing off I clearly heard a voice saying in my left ear, "Thy day!"
+
+I dreamed that I was walking in the dark and was suddenly surrounded by
+dogs, but I went on undismayed. Suddenly a smallish dog seized my left
+thigh with its teeth and would not let go. I began to throttle it with
+my hands. Scarcely had I torn it off before another, a bigger one, began
+biting me. I lifted it up, but the higher I lifted it the bigger and
+heavier it grew. And suddenly Brother A. came and, taking my arm, led me
+to a building to enter which we had to pass along a narrow plank. I
+stepped on it, but it bent and gave way and I began to clamber up a
+fence which I could scarcely reach with my hands. After much effort I
+dragged myself up, so that my leg hung down on one side and my body on
+the other. I looked round and saw Brother A. standing on the fence and
+pointing me to a broad avenue and garden, and in the garden was a large
+and beautiful building. I woke up. O Lord, great Architect of Nature,
+help me to tear from myself these dogs--my passions especially the last,
+which unites in itself the strength of all the former ones, and aid me
+to enter that temple of virtue to a vision of which I attained in my
+dream.
+
+7th December
+
+I dreamed that Joseph Alexeevich was sitting in my house, and that I was
+very glad and wished to entertain him. It seemed as if I chattered
+incessantly with other people and suddenly remembered that this could
+not please him, and I wished to come close to him and embrace him. But
+as soon as I drew near I saw that his face had changed and grown young,
+and he was quietly telling me something about the teaching of our order,
+but so softly that I could not hear it. Then it seemed that we all left
+the room and something strange happened. We were sitting or lying on the
+floor. He was telling me something, and I wished to show him my
+sensibility, and not listening to what he was saying I began picturing
+to myself the condition of my inner man and the grace of God sanctifying
+me. And tears came into my eyes, and I was glad he noticed this. But he
+looked at me with vexation and jumped up, breaking off his remarks. I
+felt abashed and asked whether what he had been saying did not concern
+me; but he did not reply, gave me a kind look, and then we suddenly
+found ourselves in my bedroom where there is a double bed. He lay down
+on the edge of it and I burned with longing to caress him and lie down
+too. And he said, "Tell me frankly what is your chief temptation? Do you
+know it? I think you know it already." Abashed by this question, I
+replied that sloth was my chief temptation. He shook his head
+incredulously; and even more abashed, I said that though I was living
+with my wife as he advised, I was not living with her as her husband. To
+this he replied that one should not deprive a wife of one's embraces and
+gave me to understand that that was my duty. But I replied that I should
+be ashamed to do it, and suddenly everything vanished. And I awoke and
+found in my mind the text from the Gospel: "The life was the light of
+men. And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it
+not." Joseph Alexeevich's face had looked young and bright. That day I
+received a letter from my benefactor in which he wrote about "conjugal
+duties."
+
+9th December
+
+I had a dream from which I awoke with a throbbing heart. I saw that I
+was in Moscow in my house, in the big sitting room, and Joseph
+Alexeevich came in from the drawing room. I seemed to know at once that
+the process of regeneration had already taken place in him, and I rushed
+to meet him. I embraced him and kissed his hands, and he said, "Hast
+thou noticed that my face is different?" I looked at him, still holding
+him in my arms, and saw that his face was young, but that he had no hair
+on his head and his features were quite changed. And I said, "I should
+have known you had I met you by chance," and I thought to myself, "Am I
+telling the truth?" And suddenly I saw him lying like a dead body; then
+he gradually recovered and went with me into my study carrying a large
+book of sheets of drawing paper; I said, "I drew that," and he answered
+by bowing his head. I opened the book, and on all the pages there were
+excellent drawings. And in my dream I knew that these drawings
+represented the love adventures of the soul with its beloved. And on its
+pages I saw a beautiful representation of a maiden in transparent
+garments and with a transparent body, flying up to the clouds. And I
+seemed to know that this maiden was nothing else than a representation
+of the Song of Songs. And looking at those drawings I dreamed I felt
+that I was doing wrong, but could not tear myself away from them. Lord,
+help me! My God, if Thy forsaking me is Thy doing, Thy will be done; but
+if I am myself the cause, teach me what I should do! I shall perish of
+my debauchery if Thou utterly desertest me!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+The Rostovs' monetary affairs had not improved during the two years they
+had spent in the country.
+
+Though Nicholas Rostov had kept firmly to his resolution and was still
+serving modestly in an obscure regiment, spending comparatively little,
+the way of life at Otradnoe--Mitenka's management of affairs, in
+particular--was such that the debts inevitably increased every year. The
+only resource obviously presenting itself to the old count was to apply
+for an official post, so he had come to Petersburg to look for one and
+also, as he said, to let the lassies enjoy themselves for the last time.
+
+Soon after their arrival in Petersburg Berg proposed to Vera and was
+accepted.
+
+Though in Moscow the Rostovs belonged to the best society without
+themselves giving it a thought, yet in Petersburg their circle of
+acquaintances was a mixed and indefinite one. In Petersburg they were
+provincials, and the very people they had entertained in Moscow without
+inquiring to what set they belonged, here looked down on them.
+
+The Rostovs lived in the same hospitable way in Petersburg as in Moscow,
+and the most diverse people met at their suppers. Country neighbors from
+Otradnoe, impoverished old squires and their daughters, Peronskaya a
+maid of honor, Pierre Bezukhov, and the son of their district postmaster
+who had obtained a post in Petersburg. Among the men who very soon
+became frequent visitors at the Rostovs' house in Petersburg were Boris,
+Pierre whom the count had met in the street and dragged home with him,
+and Berg who spent whole days at the Rostovs' and paid the eldest
+daughter, Countess Vera, the attentions a young man pays when he intends
+to propose.
+
+Not in vain had Berg shown everybody his right hand wounded at
+Austerlitz and held a perfectly unnecessary sword in his left. He
+narrated that episode so persistently and with so important an air that
+everyone believed in the merit and usefulness of his deed, and he had
+obtained two decorations for Austerlitz.
+
+In the Finnish war he also managed to distinguish himself. He had picked
+up the scrap of a grenade that had killed an aide-de-camp standing near
+the commander-in-chief and had taken it to his commander. Just as he had
+done after Austerlitz, he related this occurrence at such length and so
+insistently that everyone again believed it had been necessary to do
+this, and he received two decorations for the Finnish war also. In 1809
+he was a captain in the Guards, wore medals, and held some special
+lucrative posts in Petersburg.
+
+Though some skeptics smiled when told of Berg's merits, it could not be
+denied that he was a painstaking and brave officer, on excellent terms
+with his superiors, and a moral young man with a brilliant career before
+him and an assured position in society.
+
+Four years before, meeting a German comrade in the stalls of a Moscow
+theater, Berg had pointed out Vera Rostova to him and had said in
+German, "das soll mein Weib werden," * and from that moment had made up
+his mind to marry her. Now in Petersburg, having considered the Rostovs'
+position and his own, he decided that the time had come to propose.
+
+
+* "That girl shall be my wife."
+
+Berg's proposal was at first received with a perplexity that was not
+flattering to him. At first it seemed strange that the son of an obscure
+Livonian gentleman should propose marriage to a Countess Rostova; but
+Berg's chief characteristic was such a naive and good natured egotism
+that the Rostovs involuntarily came to think it would be a good thing,
+since he himself was so firmly convinced that it was good, indeed
+excellent. Moreover, the Rostovs' affairs were seriously embarrassed, as
+the suitor could not but know; and above all, Vera was twenty-four, had
+been taken out everywhere, and though she was certainly good-looking and
+sensible, no one up to now had proposed to her. So they gave their
+consent.
+
+"You see," said Berg to his comrade, whom he called "friend" only
+because he knew that everyone has friends, "you see, I have considered
+it all, and should not marry if I had not thought it all out or if it
+were in any way unsuitable. But on the contrary, my papa and mamma are
+now provided for--I have arranged that rent for them in the Baltic
+Provinces--and I can live in Petersburg on my pay, and with her fortune
+and my good management we can get along nicely. I am not marrying for
+money--I consider that dishonorable--but a wife should bring her share
+and a husband his. I have my position in the service, she has
+connections and some means. In our times that is worth something, isn't
+it? But above all, she is a handsome, estimable girl, and she loves
+me..."
+
+Berg blushed and smiled.
+
+"And I love her, because her character is sensible and very good. Now
+the other sister, though they are the same family, is quite different--
+an unpleasant character and has not the same intelligence. She is so...
+you know?... Unpleasant... But my fiancee!... Well, you will be coming,"
+he was going to say, "to dine," but changed his mind and said "to take
+tea with us," and quickly doubling up his tongue he blew a small round
+ring of tobacco smoke, perfectly embodying his dream of happiness.
+
+After the first feeling of perplexity aroused in the parents by Berg's
+proposal, the holiday tone of joyousness usual at such times took
+possession of the family, but the rejoicing was external and insincere.
+In the family's feeling toward this wedding a certain awkwardness and
+constraint was evident, as if they were ashamed of not having loved Vera
+sufficiently and of being so ready to get her off their hands. The old
+count felt this most. He would probably have been unable to state the
+cause of his embarrassment, but it resulted from the state of his
+affairs. He did not know at all how much he had, what his debts amounted
+to, or what dowry he could give Vera. When his daughters were born he
+had assigned to each of them, for her dowry, an estate with three
+hundred serfs; but one of these estates had already been sold, and the
+other was mortgaged and the interest so much in arrears that it would
+have to be sold, so that it was impossible to give it to Vera. Nor had
+he any money.
+
+Berg had already been engaged a month, and only a week remained before
+the wedding, but the count had not yet decided in his own mind the
+question of the dowry, nor spoken to his wife about it. At one time the
+count thought of giving her the Ryazan estate or of selling a forest, at
+another time of borrowing money on a note of hand. A few days before the
+wedding Berg entered the count's study early one morning and, with a
+pleasant smile, respectfully asked his future father-in-law to let him
+know what Vera's dowry would be. The count was so disconcerted by this
+long-foreseen inquiry that without consideration he gave the first reply
+that came into his head. "I like your being businesslike about it.... I
+like it. You shall be satisfied...."
+
+And patting Berg on the shoulder he got up, wishing to end the
+conversation. But Berg, smiling pleasantly, explained that if he did not
+know for certain how much Vera would have and did not receive at least
+part of the dowry in advance, he would have to break matters off.
+
+"Because, consider, Count--if I allowed myself to marry now without
+having definite means to maintain my wife, I should be acting badly...."
+
+The conversation ended by the count, who wished to be generous and to
+avoid further importunity, saying that he would give a note of hand for
+eighty thousand rubles. Berg smiled meekly, kissed the count on the
+shoulder, and said that he was very grateful, but that it was impossible
+for him to arrange his new life without receiving thirty thousand in
+ready money. "Or at least twenty thousand, Count," he added, "and then a
+note of hand for only sixty thousand."
+
+"Yes, yes, all right!" said the count hurriedly. "Only excuse me, my
+dear fellow, I'll give you twenty thousand and a note of hand for eighty
+thousand as well. Yes, yes! Kiss me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+Natasha was sixteen and it was the year 1809, the very year to which she
+had counted on her fingers with Boris after they had kissed four years
+ago. Since then she had not seen him. Before Sonya and her mother, if
+Boris happened to be mentioned, she spoke quite freely of that episode
+as of some childish, long-forgotten matter that was not worth
+mentioning. But in the secret depths of her soul the question whether
+her engagement to Boris was a jest or an important, binding promise
+tormented her.
+
+Since Boris left Moscow in 1805 to join the army he had not seen the
+Rostovs. He had been in Moscow several times, and had passed near
+Otradnoe, but had never been to see them.
+
+Sometimes it occurred to Natasha that he did not wish to see her, and
+this conjecture was confirmed by the sad tone in which her elders spoke
+of him.
+
+"Nowadays old friends are not remembered," the countess would say when
+Boris was mentioned.
+
+Anna Mikhaylovna also had of late visited them less frequently, seemed
+to hold herself with particular dignity, and always spoke rapturously
+and gratefully of the merits of her son and the brilliant career on
+which he had entered. When the Rostovs came to Petersburg Boris called
+on them.
+
+He drove to their house in some agitation. The memory of Natasha was his
+most poetic recollection. But he went with the firm intention of letting
+her and her parents feel that the childish relations between himself and
+Natasha could not be binding either on her or on him. He had a brilliant
+position in society thanks to his intimacy with Countess Bezukhova, a
+brilliant position in the service thanks to the patronage of an
+important personage whose complete confidence he enjoyed, and he was
+beginning to make plans for marrying one of the richest heiresses in
+Petersburg, plans which might very easily be realized. When he entered
+the Rostovs' drawing room Natasha was in her own room. When she heard of
+his arrival she almost ran into the drawing room, flushed and beaming
+with a more than cordial smile.
+
+Boris remembered Natasha in a short dress, with dark eyes shining from
+under her curls and boisterous, childish laughter, as he had known her
+four years before; and so he was taken aback when quite a different
+Natasha entered, and his face expressed rapturous astonishment. This
+expression on his face pleased Natasha.
+
+"Well, do you recognize your little madcap playmate?" asked the
+countess.
+
+Boris kissed Natasha's hand and said that he was astonished at the
+change in her.
+
+"How handsome you have grown!"
+
+"I should think so!" replied Natasha's laughing eyes.
+
+"And is Papa older?" she asked.
+
+Natasha sat down and, without joining in Boris' conversation with the
+countess, silently and minutely studied her childhood's suitor. He felt
+the weight of that resolute and affectionate scrutiny and glanced at her
+occasionally.
+
+Boris' uniform, spurs, tie, and the way his hair was brushed were all
+comme il faut and in the latest fashion. This Natasha noticed at once.
+He sat rather sideways in the armchair next to the countess, arranging
+with his right hand the cleanest of gloves that fitted his left hand
+like a skin, and he spoke with a particularly refined compression of his
+lips about the amusements of the highest Petersburg society, recalling
+with mild irony old times in Moscow and Moscow acquaintances. It was not
+accidentally, Natasha felt, that he alluded, when speaking of the
+highest aristocracy, to an ambassador's ball he had attended, and to
+invitations he had received from N.N. and S.S.
+
+All this time Natasha sat silent, glancing up at him from under her
+brows. This gaze disturbed and confused Boris more and more. He looked
+round more frequently toward her, and broke off in what he was saying.
+He did not stay more than ten minutes, then rose and took his leave. The
+same inquisitive, challenging, and rather mocking eyes still looked at
+him. After his first visit Boris said to himself that Natasha attracted
+him just as much as ever, but that he must not yield to that feeling,
+because to marry her, a girl almost without fortune, would mean ruin to
+his career, while to renew their former relations without intending to
+marry her would be dishonorable. Boris made up his mind to avoid meeting
+Natasha, but despite that resolution he called again a few days later
+and began calling often and spending whole days at the Rostovs'. It
+seemed to him that he ought to have an explanation with Natasha and tell
+her that the old times must be forgotten, that in spite of everything...
+she could not be his wife, that he had no means, and they would never
+let her marry him. But he failed to do so and felt awkward about
+entering on such an explanation. From day to day he became more and more
+entangled. It seemed to her mother and Sonya that Natasha was in love
+with Boris as of old. She sang him his favorite songs, showed him her
+album, making him write in it, did not allow him to allude to the past,
+letting it be understood how delightful was the present; and every day
+he went away in a fog, without having said what he meant to, and not
+knowing what he was doing or why he came, or how it would all end. He
+left off visiting Helene and received reproachful notes from her every
+day, and yet he continued to spend whole days with the Rostovs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+One night when the old countess, in nightcap and dressing jacket,
+without her false curls, and with her poor little knob of hair showing
+under her white cotton cap, knelt sighing and groaning on a rug and
+bowing to the ground in prayer, her door creaked and Natasha, also in a
+dressing jacket with slippers on her bare feet and her hair in
+curlpapers, ran in. The countess--her prayerful mood dispelled--looked
+round and frowned. She was finishing her last prayer: "Can it be that
+this couch will be my grave?" Natasha, flushed and eager, seeing her
+mother in prayer, suddenly checked her rush, half sat down, and
+unconsciously put out her tongue as if chiding herself. Seeing that her
+mother was still praying she ran on tiptoe to the bed and, rapidly
+slipping one little foot against the other, pushed off her slippers and
+jumped onto the bed the countess had feared might become her grave. This
+couch was high, with a feather bed and five pillows each smaller than
+the one below. Natasha jumped on it, sank into the feather bed, rolled
+over to the wall, and began snuggling up the bedclothes as she settled
+down, raising her knees to her chin, kicking out and laughing almost
+inaudibly, now covering herself up head and all, and now peeping at her
+mother. The countess finished her prayers and came to the bed with a
+stern face, but seeing, that Natasha's head was covered, she smiled in
+her kind, weak way.
+
+"Now then, now then!" said she.
+
+"Mamma, can we have a talk? Yes?" said Natasha. "Now, just one on your
+throat and another... that'll do!" And seizing her mother round the
+neck, she kissed her on the throat. In her behavior to her mother
+Natasha seemed rough, but she was so sensitive and tactful that however
+she clasped her mother she always managed to do it without hurting her
+or making her feel uncomfortable or displeased.
+
+"Well, what is it tonight?" said the mother, having arranged her pillows
+and waited until Natasha, after turning over a couple of times, had
+settled down beside her under the quilt, spread out her arms, and
+assumed a serious expression.
+
+These visits of Natasha's at night before the count returned from his
+club were one of the greatest pleasures of both mother, and daughter.
+
+"What is it tonight?--But I have to tell you..."
+
+Natasha put her hand on her mother's mouth.
+
+"About Boris... I know," she said seriously; "that's what I have come
+about. Don't say it--I know. No, do tell me!" and she removed her hand.
+"Tell me, Mamma! He's nice?"
+
+"Natasha, you are sixteen. At your age I was married. You say Boris is
+nice. He is very nice, and I love him like a son. But what then?... What
+are you thinking about? You have quite turned his head, I can see
+that...."
+
+As she said this the countess looked round at her daughter. Natasha was
+lying looking steadily straight before her at one of the mahogany
+sphinxes carved on the corners of the bedstead, so that the countess
+only saw her daughter's face in profile. That face struck her by its
+peculiarly serious and concentrated expression.
+
+Natasha was listening and considering.
+
+"Well, what then?" said she.
+
+"You have quite turned his head, and why? What do you want of him? You
+know you can't marry him."
+
+"Why not?" said Natasha, without changing her position.
+
+"Because he is young, because he is poor, because he is a relation...
+and because you yourself don't love him."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"I know. It is not right, darling!"
+
+
+"But if I want to..." said Natasha.
+
+"Leave off talking nonsense," said the countess.
+
+"But if I want to..."
+
+"Natasha, I am in earnest..."
+
+Natasha did not let her finish. She drew the countess' large hand to
+her, kissed it on the back and then on the palm, then again turned it
+over and began kissing first one knuckle, then the space between the
+knuckles, then the next knuckle, whispering, "January, February, March,
+April, May. Speak, Mamma, why don't you say anything? Speak!" said she,
+turning to her mother, who was tenderly gazing at her daughter and in
+that contemplation seemed to have forgotten all she had wished to say.
+
+"It won't do, my love! Not everyone will understand this friendship
+dating from your childish days, and to see him so intimate with you may
+injure you in the eyes of other young men who visit us, and above all it
+torments him for nothing. He may already have found a suitable and
+wealthy match, and now he's half crazy."
+
+"Crazy?" repeated Natasha.
+
+"I'll tell you some things about myself. I had a cousin..."
+
+"I know! Cyril Matveich... but he is old."
+
+"He was not always old. But this is what I'll do, Natasha, I'll have a
+talk with Boris. He need not come so often...."
+
+"Why not, if he likes to?"
+
+"Because I know it will end in nothing...."
+
+"How can you know? No, Mamma, don't speak to him! What nonsense!" said
+Natasha in the tone of one being deprived of her property. "Well, I
+won't marry, but let him come if he enjoys it and I enjoy it." Natasha
+smiled and looked at her mother. "Not to marry, but just so," she added.
+
+"How so, my pet?"
+
+"Just so. There's no need for me to marry him. But... just so."
+
+"Just so, just so," repeated the countess, and shaking all over, she
+went off into a good humored, unexpected, elderly laugh.
+
+"Don't laugh, stop!" cried Natasha. "You're shaking the whole bed!
+You're awfully like me, just such another giggler.... Wait..." and she
+seized the countess' hands and kissed a knuckle of the little finger,
+saying, "June," and continued, kissing, "July, August," on the other
+hand. "But, Mamma, is he very much in love? What do you think? Was
+anybody ever so much in love with you? And he's very nice, very, very
+nice. Only not quite my taste--he is so narrow, like the dining-room
+clock.... Don't you understand? Narrow, you know--gray, light gray..."
+
+"What rubbish you're talking!" said the countess.
+
+Natasha continued: "Don't you really understand? Nicholas would
+understand.... Bezukhov, now, is blue, dark-blue and red, and he is
+square."
+
+"You flirt with him too," said the countess, laughing.
+
+"No, he is a Freemason, I have found out. He is fine, dark-blue and
+red.... How can I explain it to you?"
+
+"Little countess!" the count's voice called from behind the door.
+"You're not asleep?" Natasha jumped up, snatched up her slippers, and
+ran barefoot to her own room.
+
+It was a long time before she could sleep. She kept thinking that no one
+could understand all that she understood and all there was in her.
+
+"Sonya?" she thought, glancing at that curled-up, sleeping little kitten
+with her enormous plait of hair. "No, how could she? She's virtuous. She
+fell in love with Nicholas and does not wish to know anything more. Even
+Mamma does not understand. It is wonderful how clever I am and how...
+charming she is," she went on, speaking of herself in the third person,
+and imagining it was some very wise man--the wisest and best of men--who
+was saying it of her. "There is everything, everything in her,"
+continued this man. "She is unusually intelligent, charming... and then
+she is pretty, uncommonly pretty, and agile--she swims and rides
+splendidly... and her voice! One can really say it's a wonderful voice!"
+
+She hummed a scrap from her favorite opera by Cherubini, threw herself
+on her bed, laughed at the pleasant thought that she would immediately
+fall asleep, called Dunyasha the maid to put out the candle, and before
+Dunyasha had left the room had already passed into yet another happier
+world of dreams, where everything was as light and beautiful as in
+reality, and even more so because it was different.
+
+Next day the countess called Boris aside and had a talk with him, after
+which he ceased coming to the Rostovs'.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+On the thirty-first of December, New Year's Eve, 1809 - 10 an old
+grandee of Catherine's day was giving a ball and midnight supper. The
+diplomatic corps and the Emperor himself were to be present.
+
+The grandee's well-known mansion on the English Quay glittered with
+innumerable lights. Police were stationed at the brightly lit entrance
+which was carpeted with red baize, and not only gendarmes but dozens of
+police officers and even the police master himself stood at the porch.
+Carriages kept driving away and fresh ones arriving, with red-liveried
+footmen and footmen in plumed hats. From the carriages emerged men
+wearing uniforms, stars, and ribbons, while ladies in satin and ermine
+cautiously descended the carriage steps which were let down for them
+with a clatter, and then walked hurriedly and noiselessly over the baize
+at the entrance.
+
+Almost every time a new carriage drove up a whisper ran through the
+crowd and caps were doffed.
+
+"The Emperor?... No, a minister.... prince... ambassador. Don't you see
+the plumes?..." was whispered among the crowd.
+
+One person, better dressed than the rest, seemed to know everyone and
+mentioned by name the greatest dignitaries of the day.
+
+A third of the visitors had already arrived, but the Rostovs, who were
+to be present, were still hurrying to get dressed.
+
+There had been many discussions and preparations for this ball in the
+Rostov family, many fears that the invitation would not arrive, that the
+dresses would not be ready, or that something would not be arranged as
+it should be.
+
+Marya Ignatevna Peronskaya, a thin and shallow maid of honor at the
+court of the Dowager Empress, who was a friend and relation of the
+countess and piloted the provincial Rostovs in Petersburg high society,
+was to accompany them to the ball.
+
+They were to call for her at her house in the Taurida Gardens at ten
+o'clock, but it was already five minutes to ten, and the girls were not
+yet dressed.
+
+Natasha was going to her first grand ball. She had got up at eight that
+morning and had been in a fever of excitement and activity all day. All
+her powers since morning had been concentrated on ensuring that they
+all--she herself, Mamma, and Sonya--should be as well dressed as
+possible. Sonya and her mother put themselves entirely in her hands. The
+countess was to wear a claret-colored velvet dress, and the two girls
+white gauze over pink silk slips, with roses on their bodices and their
+hair dressed a la grecque.
+
+Everything essential had already been done; feet, hands, necks, and ears
+washed, perfumed, and powdered, as befits a ball; the openwork silk
+stockings and white satin shoes with ribbons were already on; the
+hairdressing was almost done. Sonya was finishing dressing and so was
+the countess, but Natasha, who had bustled about helping them all, was
+behindhand. She was still sitting before a looking-glass with a dressing
+jacket thrown over her slender shoulders. Sonya stood ready dressed in
+the middle of the room and, pressing the head of a pin till it hurt her
+dainty finger, was fixing on a last ribbon that squeaked as the pin went
+through it.
+
+"That's not the way, that's not the way, Sonya!" cried Natasha turning
+her head and clutching with both hands at her hair which the maid who
+was dressing it had not time to release. "That bow is not right. Come
+here!"
+
+Sonya sat down and Natasha pinned the ribbon on differently.
+
+"Allow me, Miss! I can't do it like that," said the maid who was holding
+Natasha's hair.
+
+"Oh, dear! Well then, wait. That's right, Sonya."
+
+"Aren't you ready? It is nearly ten," came the countess' voice.
+
+"Directly! Directly! And you, Mamma?"
+
+"I have only my cap to pin on."
+
+"Don't do it without me!" called Natasha. "You won't do it right."
+
+"But it's already ten."
+
+They had decided to be at the ball by half past ten, and Natasha had
+still to get dressed and they had to call at the Taurida Gardens.
+
+When her hair was done, Natasha, in her short petticoat from under which
+her dancing shoes showed, and in her mother's dressing jacket, ran up to
+Sonya, scrutinized her, and then ran to her mother. Turning her mother's
+head this way and that, she fastened on the cap and, hurriedly kissing
+her gray hair, ran back to the maids who were turning up the hem of her
+skirt.
+
+The cause of the delay was Natasha's skirt, which was too long. Two
+maids were turning up the hem and hurriedly biting off the ends of
+thread. A third with pins in her mouth was running about between the
+countess and Sonya, and a fourth held the whole of the gossamer garment
+up high on one uplifted hand.
+
+"Mavra, quicker, darling!"
+
+"Give me my thimble, Miss, from there..."
+
+"Whenever will you be ready?" asked the count coming to the door. "Here
+is some scent. Peronskaya must be tired of waiting."
+
+"It's ready, Miss," said the maid, holding up the shortened gauze dress
+with two fingers, and blowing and shaking something off it, as if by
+this to express a consciousness of the airiness and purity of what she
+held.
+
+Natasha began putting on the dress.
+
+"In a minute! In a minute! Don't come in, Papa!" she cried to her father
+as he opened the door--speaking from under the filmy skirt which still
+covered her whole face.
+
+Sonya slammed the door to. A minute later they let the count in. He was
+wearing a blue swallow-tail coat, shoes and stockings, and was perfumed
+and his hair pomaded.
+
+"Oh, Papa! how nice you look! Charming!" cried Natasha, as she stood in
+the middle of the room smoothing out the folds of the gauze.
+
+"If you please, Miss! allow me," said the maid, who on her knees was
+pulling the skirt straight and shifting the pins from one side of her
+mouth to the other with her tongue.
+
+"Say what you like," exclaimed Sonya, in a despairing voice as she
+looked at Natasha, "say what you like, it's still too long."
+
+Natasha stepped back to look at herself in the pier glass. The dress was
+too long.
+
+"Really, madam, it is not at all too long," said Mavra, crawling on her
+knees after her young lady.
+
+"Well, if it's too long we'll tack it up... we'll tack it up in one
+minute," said the resolute Dunyasha taking a needle that was stuck on
+the front of her little shawl and, still kneeling on the floor, set to
+work once more.
+
+At that moment, with soft steps, the countess came in shyly, in her cap
+and velvet gown.
+
+"Oo-oo, my beauty!" exclaimed the count, "she looks better than any of
+you!"
+
+He would have embraced her but, blushing, she stepped aside fearing to
+be rumpled.
+
+"Mamma, your cap, more to this side," said Natasha. "I'll arrange it,"
+and she rushed forward so that the maids who were tacking up her skirt
+could not move fast enough and a piece of gauze was torn off.
+
+"Oh goodness! What has happened? Really it was not my fault!"
+
+"Never mind, I'll run it up, it won't show," said Dunyasha.
+
+"What a beauty--a very queen!" said the nurse as she came to the door.
+"And Sonya! They are lovely!"
+
+At a quarter past ten they at last got into their carriages and started.
+But they had still to call at the Taurida Gardens.
+
+Peronskaya was quite ready. In spite of her age and plainness she had
+gone through the same process as the Rostovs, but with less flurry--for
+to her it was a matter of routine. Her ugly old body was washed,
+perfumed, and powdered in just the same way. She had washed behind her
+ears just as carefully, and when she entered her drawing room in her
+yellow dress, wearing her badge as maid of honor, her old lady's maid
+was as full of rapturous admiration as the Rostovs' servants had been.
+
+She praised the Rostovs' toilets. They praised her taste and toilet, and
+at eleven o'clock, careful of their coiffures and dresses, they settled
+themselves in their carriages and drove off.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+Natasha had not had a moment free since early morning and had not once
+had time to think of what lay before her.
+
+In the damp chill air and crowded closeness of the swaying carriage, she
+for the first time vividly imagined what was in store for her there at
+the ball, in those brightly lighted rooms--with music, flowers, dances,
+the Emperor, and all the brilliant young people of Petersburg. The
+prospect was so splendid that she hardly believed it would come true, so
+out of keeping was it with the chill darkness and closeness of the
+carriage. She understood all that awaited her only when, after stepping
+over the red baize at the entrance, she entered the hall, took off her
+fur cloak, and, beside Sonya and in front of her mother, mounted the
+brightly illuminated stairs between the flowers. Only then did she
+remember how she must behave at a ball, and tried to assume the majestic
+air she considered indispensable for a girl on such an occasion. But,
+fortunately for her, she felt her eyes growing misty, she saw nothing
+clearly, her pulse beat a hundred to the minute, and the blood throbbed
+at her heart. She could not assume that pose, which would have made her
+ridiculous, and she moved on almost fainting from excitement and trying
+with all her might to conceal it. And this was the very attitude that
+became her best. Before and behind them other visitors were entering,
+also talking in low tones and wearing ball dresses. The mirrors on the
+landing reflected ladies in white, pale-blue, and pink dresses, with
+diamonds and pearls on their bare necks and arms.
+
+Natasha looked in the mirrors and could not distinguish her reflection
+from the others. All was blended into one brilliant procession. On
+entering the ballroom the regular hum of voices, footsteps, and
+greetings deafened Natasha, and the light and glitter dazzled her still
+more. The host and hostess, who had already been standing at the door
+for half an hour repeating the same words to the various arrivals,
+"Charme de vous voir," * greeted the Rostovs and Peronskaya in the same
+manner.
+
+
+* "Delighted to see you."
+
+The two girls in their white dresses, each with a rose in her black
+hair, both curtsied in the same way, but the hostess' eye involuntarily
+rested longer on the slim Natasha. She looked at her and gave her alone
+a special smile in addition to her usual smile as hostess. Looking at
+her she may have recalled the golden, irrecoverable days of her own
+girlhood and her own first ball. The host also followed Natasha with his
+eyes and asked the count which was his daughter.
+
+"Charming!" said he, kissing the tips of his fingers.
+
+In the ballroom guests stood crowding at the entrance doors awaiting the
+Emperor. The countess took up a position in one of the front rows of
+that crowd. Natasha heard and felt that several people were asking about
+her and looking at her. She realized that those noticing her liked her,
+and this observation helped to calm her.
+
+"There are some like ourselves and some worse," she thought.
+
+Peronskaya was pointing out to the countess the most important people at
+the ball.
+
+"That is the Dutch ambassador, do you see? That gray-haired man," she
+said, indicating an old man with a profusion of silver-gray curly hair,
+who was surrounded by ladies laughing at something he said.
+
+"Ah, here she is, the Queen of Petersburg, Countess Bezukhova," said
+Peronskaya, indicating Helene who had just entered. "How lovely! She is
+quite equal to Marya Antonovna. See how the men, young and old, pay
+court to her. Beautiful and clever... they say Prince--is quite mad
+about her. But see, those two, though not good-looking, are even more
+run after."
+
+She pointed to a lady who was crossing the room followed by a very plain
+daughter.
+
+"She is a splendid match, a millionairess," said Peronskaya. "And look,
+here come her suitors."
+
+"That is Bezukhova's brother, Anatole Kuragin," she said, indicating a
+handsome officer of the Horse Guards who passed by them with head erect,
+looking at something over the heads of the ladies. "He's handsome, isn't
+he? I hear they will marry him to that rich girl. But your cousin,
+Drubetskoy, is also very attentive to her. They say she has millions. Oh
+yes, that's the French ambassador himself!" she replied to the countess'
+inquiry about Caulaincourt. "Looks as if he were a king! All the same,
+the French are charming, very charming. No one more charming in society.
+Ah, here she is! Yes, she is still the most beautiful of them all, our
+Marya Antonovna! And how simply she is dressed! Lovely! And that stout
+one in spectacles is the universal Freemason," she went on, indicating
+Pierre. "Put him beside his wife and he looks a regular buffoon!"
+
+Pierre, swaying his stout body, advanced, making way through the crowd
+and nodding to right and left as casually and good-naturedly as if he
+were passing through a crowd at a fair. He pushed through, evidently
+looking for someone.
+
+Natasha looked joyfully at the familiar face of Pierre, "the buffoon,"
+as Peronskaya had called him, and knew he was looking for them, and for
+her in particular. He had promised to be at the ball and introduce
+partners to her.
+
+But before he reached them Pierre stopped beside a very handsome, dark
+man of middle height, and in a white uniform, who stood by a window
+talking to a tall man wearing stars and a ribbon. Natasha at once
+recognized the shorter and younger man in the white uniform: it was
+Bolkonski, who seemed to her to have grown much younger, happier, and
+better-looking.
+
+"There's someone else we know--Bolkonski, do you see, Mamma?" said
+Natasha, pointing out Prince Andrew. "You remember, he stayed a night
+with us at Otradnoe."
+
+"Oh, you know him?" said Peronskaya. "I can't bear him. Il fait a
+present la pluie et le beau temps. * He's too proud for anything. Takes
+after his father. And he's hand in glove with Speranski, writing some
+project or other. Just look how he treats the ladies! There's one
+talking to him and he has turned away," she said, pointing at him. "I'd
+give it to him if he treated me as he does those ladies."
+
+
+* "He is all the rage just now."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+Suddenly everybody stirred, began talking, and pressed forward and then
+back, and between the two rows, which separated, the Emperor entered to
+the sounds of music that had immediately struck up. Behind him walked
+his host and hostess. He walked in rapidly, bowing to right and left as
+if anxious to get the first moments of the reception over. The band
+played the polonaise in vogue at that time on account of the words that
+had been set to it, beginning: "Alexander, Elisaveta, all our hearts you
+ravish quite..." The Emperor passed on to the drawing room, the crowd
+made a rush for the doors, and several persons with excited faces
+hurried there and back again. Then the crowd hastily retired from the
+drawing-room door, at which the Emperor reappeared talking to the
+hostess. A young man, looking distraught, pounced down on the ladies,
+asking them to move aside. Some ladies, with faces betraying complete
+forgetfulness of all the rules of decorum, pushed forward to the
+detriment of their toilets. The men began to choose partners and take
+their places for the polonaise.
+
+Everyone moved back, and the Emperor came smiling out of the drawing
+room leading his hostess by the hand but not keeping time to the music.
+The host followed with Marya Antonovna Naryshkina; then came
+ambassadors, ministers, and various generals, whom Peronskaya diligently
+named. More than half the ladies already had partners and were taking
+up, or preparing to take up, their positions for the polonaise. Natasha
+felt that she would be left with her mother and Sonya among a minority
+of women who crowded near the wall, not having been invited to dance.
+She stood with her slender arms hanging down, her scarcely defined bosom
+rising and falling regularly, and with bated breath and glittering,
+frightened eyes gazed straight before her, evidently prepared for the
+height of joy or misery. She was not concerned about the Emperor or any
+of those great people whom Peronskaya was pointing out--she had but one
+thought: "Is it possible no one will ask me, that I shall not be among
+the first to dance? Is it possible that not one of all these men will
+notice me? They do not even seem to see me, or if they do they look as
+if they were saying, 'Ah, she's not the one I'm after, so it's not worth
+looking at her!' No, it's impossible," she thought. "They must know how
+I long to dance, how splendidly I dance, and how they would enjoy
+dancing with me."
+
+The strains of the polonaise, which had continued for a considerable
+time, had begun to sound like a sad reminiscence to Natasha's ears. She
+wanted to cry. Peronskaya had left them. The count was at the other end
+of the room. She and the countess and Sonya were standing by themselves
+as in the depths of a forest amid that crowd of strangers, with no one
+interested in them and not wanted by anyone. Prince Andrew with a lady
+passed by, evidently not recognizing them. The handsome Anatole was
+smilingly talking to a partner on his arm and looked at Natasha as one
+looks at a wall. Boris passed them twice and each time turned away. Berg
+and his wife, who were not dancing, came up to them.
+
+This family gathering seemed humiliating to Natasha--as if there were
+nowhere else for the family to talk but here at the ball. She did not
+listen to or look at Vera, who was telling her something about her own
+green dress.
+
+At last the Emperor stopped beside his last partner (he had danced with
+three) and the music ceased. A worried aide-de-camp ran up to the
+Rostovs requesting them to stand farther back, though as it was they
+were already close to the wall, and from the gallery resounded the
+distinct, precise, enticingly rhythmical strains of a waltz. The Emperor
+looked smilingly down the room. A minute passed but no one had yet begun
+dancing. An aide-de-camp, the Master of Ceremonies, went up to Countess
+Bezukhova and asked her to dance. She smilingly raised her hand and laid
+it on his shoulder without looking at him. The aide-de-camp, an adept in
+his art, grasping his partner firmly round her waist, with confident
+deliberation started smoothly, gliding first round the edge of the
+circle, then at the corner of the room he caught Helene's left hand and
+turned her, the only sound audible, apart from the ever-quickening
+music, being the rhythmic click of the spurs on his rapid, agile feet,
+while at every third beat his partner's velvet dress spread out and
+seemed to flash as she whirled round. Natasha gazed at them and was
+ready to cry because it was not she who was dancing that first turn of
+the waltz.
+
+Prince Andrew, in the white uniform of a cavalry colonel, wearing
+stockings and dancing shoes, stood looking animated and bright in the
+front row of the circle not far from the Rostovs. Baron Firhoff was
+talking to him about the first sitting of the Council of State to be
+held next day. Prince Andrew, as one closely connected with Speranski
+and participating in the work of the legislative commission, could give
+reliable information about that sitting, concerning which various rumors
+were current. But not listening to what Firhoff was saying, he was
+gazing now at the sovereign and now at the men intending to dance who
+had not yet gathered courage to enter the circle.
+
+Prince Andrew was watching these men abashed by the Emperor's presence,
+and the women who were breathlessly longing to be asked to dance.
+
+Pierre came up to him and caught him by the arm.
+
+"You always dance. I have a protegee, the young Rostova, here. Ask her,"
+he said.
+
+"Where is she?" asked Bolkonski. "Excuse me!" he added, turning to the
+baron, "we will finish this conversation elsewhere--at a ball one must
+dance." He stepped forward in the direction Pierre indicated. The
+despairing, dejected expression of Natasha's face caught his eye. He
+recognized her, guessed her feelings, saw that it was her debut,
+remembered her conversation at the window, and with an expression of
+pleasure on his face approached Countess Rostova.
+
+"Allow me to introduce you to my daughter," said the countess, with
+heightened color.
+
+"I have the pleasure of being already acquainted, if the countess
+remembers me," said Prince Andrew with a low and courteous bow quite
+belying Peronskaya's remarks about his rudeness, and approaching Natasha
+he held out his arm to grasp her waist before he had completed his
+invitation. He asked her to waltz. That tremulous expression on
+Natasha's face, prepared either for despair or rapture, suddenly
+brightened into a happy, grateful, childlike smile.
+
+"I have long been waiting for you," that frightened happy little girl
+seemed to say by the smile that replaced the threatened tears, as she
+raised her hand to Prince Andrew's shoulder. They were the second couple
+to enter the circle. Prince Andrew was one of the best dancers of his
+day and Natasha danced exquisitely. Her little feet in their white satin
+dancing shoes did their work swiftly, lightly, and independently of
+herself, while her face beamed with ecstatic happiness. Her slender bare
+arms and neck were not beautiful--compared to Helene's her shoulders
+looked thin and her bosom undeveloped. But Helene seemed, as it were,
+hardened by a varnish left by the thousands of looks that had scanned
+her person, while Natasha was like a girl exposed for the first time,
+who would have felt very much ashamed had she not been assured that this
+was absolutely necessary.
+
+Prince Andrew liked dancing, and wishing to escape as quickly as
+possible from the political and clever talk which everyone addressed to
+him, wishing also to break up the circle of restraint he disliked,
+caused by the Emperor's presence, he danced, and had chosen Natasha
+because Pierre pointed her out to him and because she was the first
+pretty girl who caught his eye; but scarcely had he embraced that
+slender supple figure and felt her stirring so close to him and smiling
+so near him than the wine of her charm rose to his head, and he felt
+himself revived and rejuvenated when after leaving her he stood
+breathing deeply and watching the other dancers.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+After Prince Andrew, Boris came up to ask Natasha for a dance, and then
+the aide-de-camp who had opened the ball, and several other young men,
+so that, flushed and happy, and passing on her superfluous partners to
+Sonya, she did not cease dancing all the evening. She noticed and saw
+nothing of what occupied everyone else. Not only did she fail to notice
+that the Emperor talked a long time with the French ambassador, and how
+particularly gracious he was to a certain lady, or that Prince So-and-so
+and So-and-so did and said this and that, and that Helene had great
+success and was honored by the special attention of So-and-so, but she
+did not even see the Emperor, and only noticed that he had gone because
+the ball became livelier after his departure. For one of the merry
+cotillions before supper Prince Andrew was again her partner. He
+reminded her of their first encounter in the Otradnoe avenue, and how
+she had been unable to sleep that moonlight night, and told her how he
+had involuntarily overheard her. Natasha blushed at that recollection
+and tried to excuse herself, as if there had been something to be
+ashamed of in what Prince Andrew had overheard.
+
+Like all men who have grown up in society, Prince Andrew liked meeting
+someone there not of the conventional society stamp. And such was
+Natasha, with her surprise, her delight, her shyness, and even her
+mistakes in speaking French. With her he behaved with special care and
+tenderness, sitting beside her and talking of the simplest and most
+unimportant matters; he admired her shy grace. In the middle of the
+cotillion, having completed one of the figures, Natasha, still out of
+breath, was returning to her seat when another dancer chose her. She was
+tired and panting and evidently thought of declining, but immediately
+put her hand gaily on the man's shoulder, smiling at Prince Andrew.
+
+"I'd be glad to sit beside you and rest: I'm tired; but you see how they
+keep asking me, and I'm glad of it, I'm happy and I love everybody, and
+you and I understand it all," and much, much more was said in her smile.
+When her partner left her Natasha ran across the room to choose two
+ladies for the figure.
+
+"If she goes to her cousin first and then to another lady, she will be
+my wife," said Prince Andrew to himself quite to his own surprise, as he
+watched her. She did go first to her cousin.
+
+"What rubbish sometimes enters one's head!" thought Prince Andrew, "but
+what is certain is that that girl is so charming, so original, that she
+won't be dancing here a month before she will be married.... Such as she
+are rare here," he thought, as Natasha, readjusting a rose that was
+slipping on her bodice, settled herself beside him.
+
+When the cotillion was over the old count in his blue coat came up to
+the dancers. He invited Prince Andrew to come and see them, and asked
+his daughter whether she was enjoying herself. Natasha did not answer at
+once but only looked up with a smile that said reproachfully: "How can
+you ask such a question?"
+
+"I have never enjoyed myself so much before!" she said, and Prince
+Andrew noticed how her thin arms rose quickly as if to embrace her
+father and instantly dropped again. Natasha was happier than she had
+ever been in her life. She was at that height of bliss when one becomes
+completely kind and good and does not believe in the possibility of
+evil, unhappiness, or sorrow.
+
+At that ball Pierre for the first time felt humiliated by the position
+his wife occupied in court circles. He was gloomy and absent-minded. A
+deep furrow ran across his forehead, and standing by a window he stared
+over his spectacles seeing no one.
+
+On her way to supper Natasha passed him.
+
+Pierre's gloomy, unhappy look struck her. She stopped in front of him.
+She wished to help him, to bestow on him the superabundance of her own
+happiness.
+
+"How delightful it is, Count!" said she. "Isn't it?"
+
+Pierre smiled absent-mindedly, evidently not grasping what she said.
+
+"Yes, I am very glad," he said.
+
+"How can people be dissatisfied with anything?" thought Natasha.
+"Especially such a capital fellow as Bezukhov!" In Natasha's eyes all
+the people at the ball alike were good, kind, and splendid people,
+loving one another; none of them capable of injuring another--and so
+they ought all to be happy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+Next day Prince Andrew thought of the ball, but his mind did not dwell
+on it long. "Yes, it was a very brilliant ball," and then... "Yes, that
+little Rostova is very charming. There's something fresh, original, un-
+Petersburg-like about her that distinguishes her." That was all he
+thought about yesterday's ball, and after his morning tea he set to
+work.
+
+But either from fatigue or want of sleep he was ill-disposed for work
+and could get nothing done. He kept criticizing his own work, as he
+often did, and was glad when he heard someone coming.
+
+The visitor was Bitski, who served on various committees, frequented all
+the societies in Petersburg, and a passionate devotee of the new ideas
+and of Speranski, and a diligent Petersburg newsmonger--one of those men
+who choose their opinions like their clothes according to the fashion,
+but who for that very reason appear to be the warmest partisans. Hardly
+had he got rid of his hat before he ran into Prince Andrew's room with a
+preoccupied air and at once began talking. He had just heard particulars
+of that morning's sitting of the Council of State opened by the Emperor,
+and he spoke of it enthusiastically. The Emperor's speech had been
+extraordinary. It had been a speech such as only constitutional monarchs
+deliver. "The Sovereign plainly said that the Council and Senate are
+estates of the realm, he said that the government must rest not on
+authority but on secure bases. The Emperor said that the fiscal system
+must be reorganized and the accounts published," recounted Bitski,
+emphasizing certain words and opening his eyes significantly.
+
+"Ah, yes! Today's events mark an epoch, the greatest epoch in our
+history," he concluded.
+
+Prince Andrew listened to the account of the opening of the Council of
+State, which he had so impatiently awaited and to which he had attached
+such importance, and was surprised that this event, now that it had
+taken place, did not affect him, and even seemed quite insignificant. He
+listened with quiet irony to Bitski's enthusiastic account of it. A very
+simple thought occurred to him: "What does it matter to me or to Bitski
+what the Emperor was pleased to say at the Council? Can all that make me
+any happier or better?"
+
+And this simple reflection suddenly destroyed all the interest Prince
+Andrew had felt in the impending reforms. He was going to dine that
+evening at Speranski's, "with only a few friends," as the host had said
+when inviting him. The prospect of that dinner in the intimate home
+circle of the man he so admired had greatly interested Prince Andrew,
+especially as he had not yet seen Speranski in his domestic
+surroundings, but now he felt disinclined to go to it.
+
+At the appointed hour, however, he entered the modest house Speranski
+owned in the Taurida Gardens. In the parqueted dining room this small
+house, remarkable for its extreme cleanliness (suggesting that of a
+monastery), Prince Andrew, who was rather late, found the friendly
+gathering of Speranski's intimate acquaintances already assembled at
+five o'clock. There were no ladies present except Speranski's little
+daughter (long-faced like her father) and her governess. The other
+guests were Gervais, Magnitski, and Stolypin. While still in the
+anteroom Prince Andrew heard loud voices and a ringing staccato laugh--a
+laugh such as one hears on the stage. Someone--it sounded like
+Speranski--was distinctly ejaculating ha-ha-ha. Prince Andrew had never
+before heard Speranski's famous laugh, and this ringing, high-pitched
+laughter from a statesman made a strange impression on him.
+
+He entered the dining room. The whole company were standing between two
+windows at a small table laid with hors-d'oeuvres. Speranski, wearing a
+gray swallow-tail coat with a star on the breast, and evidently still
+the same waistcoat and high white stock he had worn at the meeting of
+the Council of State, stood at the table with a beaming countenance. His
+guests surrounded him. Magnitski, addressing himself to Speranski, was
+relating an anecdote, and Speranski was laughing in advance at what
+Magnitski was going to say. When Prince Andrew entered the room
+Magnitski's words were again crowned by laughter. Stolypin gave a deep
+bass guffaw as he munched a piece of bread and cheese. Gervais laughed
+softly with a hissing chuckle, and Speranski in a high-pitched staccato
+manner.
+
+Still laughing, Speranski held out his soft white hand to Prince Andrew.
+
+"Very pleased to see you, Prince," he said. "One moment..." he went on,
+turning to Magnitski and interrupting his story. "We have agreed that
+this is a dinner for recreation, with not a word about business!" and
+turning again to the narrator he began to laugh afresh.
+
+Prince Andrew looked at the laughing Speranski with astonishment,
+regret, and disillusionment. It seemed to him that this was not
+Speranski but someone else. Everything that had formerly appeared
+mysterious and fascinating in Speranski suddenly became plain and
+unattractive.
+
+At dinner the conversation did not cease for a moment and seemed to
+consist of the contents of a book of funny anecdotes. Before Magnitski
+had finished his story someone else was anxious to relate something
+still funnier. Most of the anecdotes, if not relating to the state
+service, related to people in the service. It seemed that in this
+company the insignificance of those people was so definitely accepted
+that the only possible attitude toward them was one of good humored
+ridicule. Speranski related how at the Council that morning a deaf
+dignitary, when asked his opinion, replied that he thought so too.
+Gervais gave a long account of an official revision, remarkable for the
+stupidity of everybody concerned. Stolypin, stuttering, broke into the
+conversation and began excitedly talking of the abuses that existed
+under the former order of things--threatening to give a serious turn to
+the conversation. Magnitski starting quizzing Stolypin about his
+vehemence. Gervais intervened with a joke, and the talk reverted to its
+former lively tone.
+
+Evidently Speranski liked to rest after his labors and find amusement in
+a circle of friends, and his guests, understanding his wish, tried to
+enliven him and amuse themselves. But their gaiety seemed to Prince
+Andrew mirthless and tiresome. Speranski's high-pitched voice struck him
+unpleasantly, and the incessant laughter grated on him like a false
+note. Prince Andrew did not laugh and feared that he would be a damper
+on the spirits of the company, but no one took any notice of his being
+out of harmony with the general mood. They all seemed very gay.
+
+He tried several times to join in the conversation, but his remarks were
+tossed aside each time like a cork thrown out of the water, and he could
+not jest with them.
+
+There was nothing wrong or unseemly in what they said, it was witty and
+might have been funny, but it lacked just that something which is the
+salt of mirth, and they were not even aware that such a thing existed.
+
+After dinner Speranski's daughter and her governess rose. He patted the
+little girl with his white hand and kissed her. And that gesture, too,
+seemed unnatural to Prince Andrew.
+
+The men remained at table over their port--English fashion. In the midst
+of a conversation that was started about Napoleon's Spanish affairs,
+which they all agreed in approving, Prince Andrew began to express a
+contrary opinion. Speranski smiled and, with an evident wish to prevent
+the conversation from taking an unpleasant course, told a story that had
+no connection with the previous conversation. For a few moments all were
+silent.
+
+Having sat some time at table, Speranski corked a bottle of wine and,
+remarking, "Nowadays good wine rides in a carriage and pair," passed it
+to the servant and got up. All rose and continuing to talk loudly went
+into the drawing room. Two letters brought by a courier were handed to
+Speranski and he took them to his study. As soon as he had left the room
+the general merriment stopped and the guests began to converse sensibly
+and quietly with one another.
+
+"Now for the recitation!" said Speranski on returning from his study. "A
+wonderful talent!" he said to Prince Andrew, and Magnitski immediately
+assumed a pose and began reciting some humorous verses in French which
+he had composed about various well-known Petersburg people. He was
+interrupted several times by applause. When the verses were finished
+Prince Andrew went up to Speranski and took his leave.
+
+"Where are you off to so early?" asked Speranski.
+
+"I promised to go to a reception."
+
+They said no more. Prince Andrew looked closely into those mirrorlike,
+impenetrable eyes, and felt that it had been ridiculous of him to have
+expected anything from Speranski and from any of his own activities
+connected with him, or ever to have attributed importance to what
+Speranski was doing. That precise, mirthless laughter rang in Prince
+Andrew's ears long after he had left the house.
+
+When he reached home Prince Andrew began thinking of his life in
+Petersburg during those last four months as if it were something new. He
+recalled his exertions and solicitations, and the history of his project
+of army reform, which had been accepted for consideration and which they
+were trying to pass over in silence simply because another, a very poor
+one, had already been prepared and submitted to the Emperor. He thought
+of the meetings of a committee of which Berg was a member. He remembered
+how carefully and at what length everything relating to form and
+procedure was discussed at those meetings, and how sedulously and
+promptly all that related to the gist of the business was evaded. He
+recalled his labors on the Legal Code, and how painstakingly he had
+translated the articles of the Roman and French codes into Russian, and
+he felt ashamed of himself. Then he vividly pictured to himself
+Bogucharovo, his occupations in the country, his journey to Ryazan; he
+remembered the peasants and Dron the village elder, and mentally
+applying to them the Personal Rights he had divided into paragraphs, he
+felt astonished that he could have spent so much time on such useless
+work.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+Next day Prince Andrew called at a few houses he had not visited before,
+and among them at the Rostovs' with whom he had renewed acquaintance at
+the ball. Apart from considerations of politeness which demanded the
+call, he wanted to see that original, eager girl who had left such a
+pleasant impression on his mind, in her own home.
+
+Natasha was one of the first to meet him. She was wearing a dark-blue
+house dress in which Prince Andrew thought her even prettier than in her
+ball dress. She and all the Rostov family welcomed him as an old friend,
+simply and cordially. The whole family, whom he had formerly judged
+severely, now seemed to him to consist of excellent, simple, and kindly
+people. The old count's hospitality and good nature, which struck one
+especially in Petersburg as a pleasant surprise, were such that Prince
+Andrew could not refuse to stay to dinner. "Yes," he thought, "they are
+capital people, who of course have not the slightest idea what a
+treasure they possess in Natasha; but they are kindly folk and form the
+best possible setting for this strikingly poetic, charming girl,
+overflowing with life!"
+
+In Natasha Prince Andrew was conscious of a strange world completely
+alien to him and brimful of joys unknown to him, a different world, that
+in the Otradnoe avenue and at the window that moonlight night had
+already begun to disconcert him. Now this world disconcerted him no
+longer and was no longer alien to him, but he himself having entered it
+found in it a new enjoyment.
+
+After dinner Natasha, at Prince Andrew's request, went to the clavichord
+and began singing. Prince Andrew stood by a window talking to the ladies
+and listened to her. In the midst of a phrase he ceased speaking and
+suddenly felt tears choking him, a thing he had thought impossible for
+him. He looked at Natasha as she sang, and something new and joyful
+stirred in his soul. He felt happy and at the same time sad. He had
+absolutely nothing to weep about yet he was ready to weep. What about?
+His former love? The little princess? His disillusionments?... His hopes
+for the future?... Yes and no. The chief reason was a sudden, vivid
+sense of the terrible contrast between something infinitely great and
+illimitable within him and that limited and material something that he,
+and even she, was. This contrast weighed on and yet cheered him while
+she sang.
+
+As soon as Natasha had finished she went up to him and asked how he
+liked her voice. She asked this and then became confused, feeling that
+she ought not to have asked it. He smiled, looking at her, and said he
+liked her singing as he liked everything she did.
+
+Prince Andrew left the Rostovs' late in the evening. He went to bed from
+habit, but soon realized that he could not sleep. Having lit his candle
+he sat up in bed, then got up, then lay down again not at all troubled
+by his sleeplessness: his soul was as fresh and joyful as if he had
+stepped out of a stuffy room into God's own fresh air. It did not enter
+his head that he was in love with Natasha; he was not thinking about
+her, but only picturing her to himself, and in consequence all life
+appeared in a new light. "Why do I strive, why do I toil in this narrow,
+confined frame, when life, all life with all its joys, is open to me?"
+said he to himself. And for the first time for a very long while he
+began making happy plans for the future. He decided that he must attend
+to his son's education by finding a tutor and putting the boy in his
+charge, then he ought to retire from the service and go abroad, and see
+England, Switzerland and Italy. "I must use my freedom while I feel so
+much strength and youth in me," he said to himself. "Pierre was right
+when he said one must believe in the possibility of happiness in order
+to be happy, and now I do believe in it. Let the dead bury their dead,
+but while one has life one must live and be happy!" thought he.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+One morning Colonel Berg, whom Pierre knew as he knew everybody in
+Moscow and Petersburg, came to see him. Berg arrived in an immaculate
+brand-new uniform, with his hair pomaded and brushed forward over his
+temples as the Emperor Alexander wore his hair.
+
+"I have just been to see the countess, your wife. Unfortunately she
+could not grant my request, but I hope, Count, I shall be more fortunate
+with you," he said with a smile.
+
+"What is it you wish, Colonel? I am at your service."
+
+"I have now quite settled in my new rooms, Count" (Berg said this with
+perfect conviction that this information could not but be agreeable),
+"and so I wish to arrange just a small party for my own and my wife's
+friends." (He smiled still more pleasantly.) "I wished to ask the
+countess and you to do me the honor of coming to tea and to supper."
+
+Only Countess Helene, considering the society of such people as the
+Bergs beneath her, could be cruel enough to refuse such an invitation.
+Berg explained so clearly why he wanted to collect at his house a small
+but select company, and why this would give him pleasure, and why though
+he grudged spending money on cards or anything harmful, he was prepared
+to run into some expense for the sake of good society--that Pierre could
+not refuse, and promised to come.
+
+"But don't be late, Count, if I may venture to ask; about ten minutes to
+eight, please. We shall make up a rubber. Our general is coming. He is
+very good to me. We shall have supper, Count. So you will do me the
+favor."
+
+Contrary to his habit of being late, Pierre on that day arrived at the
+Bergs' house, not at ten but at fifteen minutes to eight.
+
+Having prepared everything necessary for the party, the Bergs were ready
+for their guests' arrival.
+
+In their new, clean, and light study with its small busts and pictures
+and new furniture sat Berg and his wife. Berg, closely buttoned up in
+his new uniform, sat beside his wife explaining to her that one always
+could and should be acquainted with people above one, because only then
+does one get satisfaction from acquaintances.
+
+"You can get to know something, you can ask for something. See how I
+managed from my first promotion." (Berg measured his life not by years
+but by promotions.) "My comrades are still nobodies, while I am only
+waiting for a vacancy to command a regiment, and have the happiness to
+be your husband." (He rose and kissed Vera's hand, and on the way to her
+straightened out a turned-up corner of the carpet.) "And how have I
+obtained all this? Chiefly by knowing how to choose my aquaintances. It
+goes without saying that one must be conscientious and methodical."
+
+Berg smiled with a sense of his superiority over a weak woman, and
+paused, reflecting that this dear wife of his was after all but a weak
+woman who could not understand all that constitutes a man's dignity,
+what it was ein Mann zu sein. * Vera at the same time smiling with a
+sense of superiority over her good, conscientious husband, who all the
+same understood life wrongly, as according to Vera all men did. Berg,
+judging by his wife, thought all women weak and foolish. Vera, judging
+only by her husband and generalizing from that observation, supposed
+that all men, though they understand nothing and are conceited and
+selfish, ascribe common sense to themselves alone.
+
+
+* To be a man.
+
+Berg rose and embraced his wife carefully, so as not to crush her lace
+fichu for which he had paid a good price, kissing her straight on the
+lips.
+
+"The only thing is, we mustn't have children too soon," he continued,
+following an unconscious sequence of ideas.
+
+"Yes," answered Vera, "I don't at all want that. We must live for
+society."
+
+"Princess Yusupova wore one exactly like this," said Berg, pointing to
+the fichu with a happy and kindly smile.
+
+Just then Count Bezukhov was announced. Husband and wife glanced at one
+another, both smiling with self-satisfaction, and each mentally claiming
+the honor of this visit.
+
+"This is what comes of knowing how to make acquaintances," thought Berg.
+"This is what comes of knowing how to conduct oneself."
+
+"But please don't interrupt me when I am entertaining the guests," said
+Vera, "because I know what interests each of them and what to say to
+different people."
+
+Berg smiled again.
+
+"It can't be helped: men must sometimes have masculine conversation,"
+said he.
+
+They received Pierre in their small, new drawing-room, where it was
+impossible to sit down anywhere without disturbing its symmetry,
+neatness, and order; so it was quite comprehensible and not strange that
+Berg, having generously offered to disturb the symmetry of an armchair
+or of the sofa for his dear guest, but being apparently painfully
+undecided on the matter himself, eventually left the visitor to settle
+the question of selection. Pierre disturbed the symmetry by moving a
+chair for himself, and Berg and Vera immediately began their evening
+party, interrupting each other in their efforts to entertain their
+guest.
+
+Vera, having decided in her own mind that Pierre ought to be entertained
+with conversation about the French embassy, at once began accordingly.
+Berg, having decided that masculine conversation was required,
+interrupted his wife's remarks and touched on the question of the war
+with Austria, and unconsciously jumped from the general subject to
+personal considerations as to the proposals made him to take part in the
+Austrian campaign and the reasons why he had declined them. Though the
+conversation was very incoherent and Vera was angry at the intrusion of
+the masculine element, both husband and wife felt with satisfaction
+that, even if only one guest was present, their evening had begun very
+well and was as like as two peas to every other evening party with its
+talk, tea, and lighted candles.
+
+Before long Boris, Berg's old comrade, arrived. There was a shade of
+condescension and patronage in his treatment of Berg and Vera. After
+Boris came a lady with the colonel, then the general himself, then the
+Rostovs, and the party became unquestionably exactly like all other
+evening parties. Berg and Vera could not repress their smiles of
+satisfaction at the sight of all this movement in their drawing room, at
+the sound of the disconnected talk, the rustling of dresses, and the
+bowing and scraping. Everything was just as everybody always has it,
+especially so the general, who admired the apartment, patted Berg on the
+shoulder, and with parental authority superintended the setting out of
+the table for boston. The general sat down by Count Ilya Rostov, who was
+next to himself the most important guest. The old people sat with the
+old, the young with the young, and the hostess at the tea table, on
+which stood exactly the same kind of cakes in a silver cake basket as
+the Panins had at their party. Everything was just as it was everywhere
+else.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+Pierre, as one of the principal guests, had to sit down to boston with
+Count Rostov, the general, and the colonel. At the card table he
+happened to be directly facing Natasha, and was struck by a curious
+change that had come over her since the ball. She was silent, and not
+only less pretty than at the ball, but only redeemed from plainness by
+her look of gentle indifference to everything around.
+
+"What's the matter with her?" thought Pierre, glancing at her. She was
+sitting by her sister at the tea table, and reluctantly, without looking
+at him, made some reply to Boris who sat down beside her. After playing
+out a whole suit and to his partner's delight taking five tricks,
+Pierre, hearing greetings and the steps of someone who had entered the
+room while he was picking up his tricks, glanced again at Natasha.
+
+"What has happened to her?" he asked himself with still greater
+surprise.
+
+Prince Andrew was standing before her, saying something to her with a
+look of tender solicitude. She, having raised her head, was looking up
+at him, flushed and evidently trying to master her rapid breathing. And
+the bright glow of some inner fire that had been suppressed was again
+alight in her. She was completely transformed and from a plain girl had
+again become what she had been at the ball.
+
+Prince Andrew went up to Pierre, and the latter noticed a new and
+youthful expression in his friend's face.
+
+Pierre changed places several times during the game, sitting now with
+his back to Natasha and now facing her, but during the whole of the six
+rubbers he watched her and his friend.
+
+"Something very important is happening between them," thought Pierre,
+and a feeling that was both joyful and painful agitated him and made him
+neglect the game.
+
+After six rubbers the general got up, saying that it was no use playing
+like that, and Pierre was released. Natasha on one side was talking with
+Sonya and Boris, and Vera with a subtle smile was saying something to
+Prince Andrew. Pierre went up to his friend and, asking whether they
+were talking secrets, sat down beside them. Vera, having noticed Prince
+Andrew's attentions to Natasha, decided that at a party, a real evening
+party, subtle allusions to the tender passion were absolutely necessary
+and, seizing a moment when Prince Andrew was alone, began a conversation
+with him about feelings in general and about her sister. With so
+intellectual a guest as she considered Prince Andrew to be, she felt
+that she had to employ her diplomatic tact.
+
+When Pierre went up to them he noticed that Vera was being carried away
+by her self-satisfied talk, but that Prince Andrew seemed embarrassed, a
+thing that rarely happened with him.
+
+"What do you think?" Vera was saying with an arch smile. "You are so
+discerning, Prince, and understand people's characters so well at a
+glance. What do you think of Natalie? Could she be constant in her
+attachments? Could she, like other women" (Vera meant herself), "love a
+man once for all and remain true to him forever? That is what I consider
+true love. What do you think, Prince?"
+
+"I know your sister too little," replied Prince Andrew, with a sarcastic
+smile under which he wished to hide his embarrassment, "to be able to
+solve so delicate a question, and then I have noticed that the less
+attractive a woman is the more constant she is likely to be," he added,
+and looked up at Pierre who was just approaching them.
+
+"Yes, that is true, Prince. In our days," continued Vera--mentioning
+"our days" as people of limited intelligence are fond of doing,
+imagining that they have discovered and appraised the peculiarities of
+"our days" and that human characteristics change with the times--"in our
+days a girl has so much freedom that the pleasure of being courted often
+stifles real feeling in her. And it must be confessed that Natalie is
+very susceptible." This return to the subject of Natalie caused Prince
+Andrew to knit his brows with discomfort: he was about to rise, but Vera
+continued with a still more subtle smile:
+
+"I think no one has been more courted than she," she went on, "but till
+quite lately she never cared seriously for anyone. Now you know, Count,"
+she said to Pierre, "even our dear cousin Boris, who, between ourselves,
+was very far gone in the land of tenderness..." (alluding to a map of
+love much in vogue at that time).
+
+Prince Andrew frowned and remained silent.
+
+"You are friendly with Boris, aren't you?" asked Vera.
+
+"Yes, I know him..."
+
+"I expect he has told you of his childish love for Natasha?"
+
+"Oh, there was childish love?" suddenly asked Prince Andrew, blushing
+unexpectedly.
+
+"Yes, you know between cousins intimacy often leads to love. Le
+cousinage est un dangereux voisinage. * Don't you think so?"
+
+
+* "Cousinhood is a dangerous neighborhood."
+
+"Oh, undoubtedly!" said Prince Andrew, and with sudden and unnatural
+liveliness he began chaffing Pierre about the need to be very careful
+with his fifty-year-old Moscow cousins, and in the midst of these
+jesting remarks he rose, taking Pierre by the arm, and drew him aside.
+
+"Well?" asked Pierre, seeing his friend's strange animation with
+surprise, and noticing the glance he turned on Natasha as he rose.
+
+"I must... I must have a talk with you," said Prince Andrew. "You know
+that pair of women's gloves?" (He referred to the masonic gloves given
+to a newly initiated Brother to present to the woman he loved.) "I...
+but no, I will talk to you later on," and with a strange light in his
+eyes and restlessness in his movements, Prince Andrew approached Natasha
+and sat down beside her. Pierre saw how Prince Andrew asked her
+something and how she flushed as she replied.
+
+But at that moment Berg came to Pierre and began insisting that he
+should take part in an argument between the general and the colonel on
+the affairs in Spain.
+
+Berg was satisfied and happy. The smile of pleasure never left his face.
+The party was very successful and quite like other parties he had seen.
+Everything was similar: the ladies' subtle talk, the cards, the general
+raising his voice at the card table, and the samovar and the tea cakes;
+only one thing was lacking that he had always seen at the evening
+parties he wished to imitate. They had not yet had a loud conversation
+among the men and a dispute about something important and clever. Now
+the general had begun such a discussion and so Berg drew Pierre to it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+Next day, having been invited by the count, Prince Andrew dined with the
+Rostovs and spent the rest of the day there.
+
+Everyone in the house realized for whose sake Prince Andrew came, and
+without concealing it he tried to be with Natasha all day. Not only in
+the soul of the frightened yet happy and enraptured Natasha, but in the
+whole house, there was a feeling of awe at something important that was
+bound to happen. The countess looked with sad and sternly serious eyes
+at Prince Andrew when he talked to Natasha and timidly started some
+artificial conversation about trifles as soon as he looked her way.
+Sonya was afraid to leave Natasha and afraid of being in the way when
+she was with them. Natasha grew pale, in a panic of expectation, when
+she remained alone with him for a moment. Prince Andrew surprised her by
+his timidity. She felt that he wanted to say something to her but could
+not bring himself to do so.
+
+In the evening, when Prince Andrew had left, the countess went up to
+Natasha and whispered: "Well, what?"
+
+"Mamma! For heaven's sake don't ask me anything now! One can't talk
+about that," said Natasha.
+
+But all the same that night Natasha, now agitated and now frightened,
+lay a long time in her mother's bed gazing straight before her. She told
+her how he had complimented her, how he told her he was going abroad,
+asked her where they were going to spend the summer, and then how he had
+asked her about Boris.
+
+"But such a... such a... never happened to me before!" she said. "Only I
+feel afraid in his presence. I am always afraid when I'm with him. What
+does that mean? Does it mean that it's the real thing? Yes? Mamma, are
+you asleep?"
+
+"No, my love; I am frightened myself," answered her mother. "Now go!"
+
+"All the same I shan't sleep. What silliness, to sleep! Mummy! Mummy!
+such a thing never happened to me before," she said, surprised and
+alarmed at the feeling she was aware of in herself. "And could we ever
+have thought!..."
+
+It seemed to Natasha that even at the time she first saw Prince Andrew
+at Otradnoe she had fallen in love with him. It was as if she feared
+this strange, unexpected happiness of meeting again the very man she had
+then chosen (she was firmly convinced she had done so) and of finding
+him, as it seemed, not indifferent to her.
+
+"And it had to happen that he should come specially to Petersburg while
+we are here. And it had to happen that we should meet at that ball. It
+is fate. Clearly it is fate that everything led up to this! Already
+then, directly I saw him I felt something peculiar."
+
+"What else did he say to you? What are those verses? Read them..." said
+her mother, thoughtfully, referring to some verses Prince Andrew had
+written in Natasha's album.
+
+"Mamma, one need not be ashamed of his being a widower?"
+
+"Don't, Natasha! Pray to God. 'Marriages are made in heaven,'" said her
+mother.
+
+"Darling Mummy, how I love you! How happy I am!" cried Natasha, shedding
+tears of joy and excitement and embracing her mother.
+
+At that very time Prince Andrew was sitting with Pierre and telling him
+of his love for Natasha and his firm resolve to make her his wife.
+
+That day Countess Helene had a reception at her house. The French
+ambassador was there, and a foreign prince of the blood who had of late
+become a frequent visitor of hers, and many brilliant ladies and
+gentlemen. Pierre, who had come downstairs, walked through the rooms and
+struck everyone by his preoccupied, absent-minded, and morose air.
+
+Since the ball he had felt the approach of a fit of nervous depression
+and had made desperate efforts to combat it. Since the intimacy of his
+wife with the royal prince, Pierre had unexpectedly been made a
+gentleman of the bedchamber, and from that time he had begun to feel
+oppressed and ashamed in court society, and dark thoughts of the vanity
+of all things human came to him oftener than before. At the same time
+the feeling he had noticed between his protegee Natasha and Prince
+Andrew accentuated his gloom by the contrast between his own position
+and his friend's. He tried equally to avoid thinking about his wife, and
+about Natasha and Prince Andrew; and again everything seemed to him
+insignificant in comparison with eternity; again the question: for what?
+presented itself; and he forced himself to work day and night at masonic
+labors, hoping to drive away the evil spirit that threatened him. Toward
+midnight, after he had left the countess' apartments, he was sitting
+upstairs in a shabby dressing gown, copying out the original transaction
+of the Scottish lodge of Freemasons at a table in his low room cloudy
+with tobacco smoke, when someone came in. It was Prince Andrew.
+
+"Ah, it's you!" said Pierre with a preoccupied, dissatisfied air. "And
+I, you see, am hard at it." He pointed to his manuscript book with that
+air of escaping from the ills of life with which unhappy people look at
+their work.
+
+Prince Andrew, with a beaming, ecstatic expression of renewed life on
+his face, paused in front of Pierre and, not noticing his sad look,
+smiled at him with the egotism of joy.
+
+"Well, dear heart," said he, "I wanted to tell you about it yesterday
+and I have come to do so today. I never experienced anything like it
+before. I am in love, my friend!"
+
+Suddenly Pierre heaved a deep sigh and dumped his heavy person down on
+the sofa beside Prince Andrew.
+
+"With Natasha Rostova, yes?" said he.
+
+"Yes, yes! Who else should it be? I should never have believed it, but
+the feeling is stronger than I. Yesterday I tormented myself and
+suffered, but I would not exchange even that torment for anything in the
+world, I have not lived till now. At last I live, but I can't live
+without her! But can she love me?... I am too old for her.... Why don't
+you speak?"
+
+"I? I? What did I tell you?" said Pierre suddenly, rising and beginning
+to pace up and down the room. "I always thought it.... That girl is such
+a treasure... she is a rare girl.... My dear friend, I entreat you,
+don't philosophize, don't doubt, marry, marry, marry.... And I am sure
+there will not be a happier man than you."
+
+"But what of her?"
+
+"She loves you."
+
+"Don't talk rubbish..." said Prince Andrew, smiling and looking into
+Pierre's eyes.
+
+"She does, I know," Pierre cried fiercely.
+
+"But do listen," returned Prince Andrew, holding him by the arm. "Do you
+know the condition I am in? I must talk about it to someone."
+
+"Well, go on, go on. I am very glad," said Pierre, and his face really
+changed, his brow became smooth, and he listened gladly to Prince
+Andrew. Prince Andrew seemed, and really was, quite a different, quite a
+new man. Where was his spleen, his contempt for life, his
+disillusionment? Pierre was the only person to whom he made up his mind
+to speak openly; and to him he told all that was in his soul. Now he
+boldly and lightly made plans for an extended future, said he could not
+sacrifice his own happiness to his father's caprice, and spoke of how he
+would either make his father consent to this marriage and love her, or
+would do without his consent; then he marveled at the feeling that had
+mastered him as at something strange, apart from and independent of
+himself.
+
+"I should not have believed anyone who told me that I was capable of
+such love," said Prince Andrew. "It is not at all the same feeling that
+I knew in the past. The whole world is now for me divided into two
+halves: one half is she, and there all is joy, hope, light: the other
+half is everything where she is not, and there is all gloom and
+darkness...."
+
+"Darkness and gloom," reiterated Pierre: "yes, yes, I understand that."
+
+"I cannot help loving the light, it is not my fault. And I am very
+happy! You understand me? I know you are glad for my sake."
+
+"Yes, yes," Pierre assented, looking at his friend with a touched and
+sad expression in his eyes. The brighter Prince Andrew's lot appeared to
+him, the gloomier seemed his own.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+Prince Andrew needed his father's consent to his marriage, and to obtain
+this he started for the country next day.
+
+His father received his son's communication with external composure, but
+inward wrath. He could not comprehend how anyone could wish to alter his
+life or introduce anything new into it, when his own life was already
+ending. "If only they would let me end my days as I want to," thought
+the old man, "then they might do as they please." With his son, however,
+he employed the diplomacy he reserved for important occasions and,
+adopting a quiet tone, discussed the whole matter.
+
+In the first place the marriage was not a brilliant one as regards
+birth, wealth, or rank. Secondly, Prince Andrew was no longer as young
+as he had been and his health was poor (the old man laid special stress
+on this), while she was very young. Thirdly, he had a son whom it would
+be a pity to entrust to a chit of a girl. "Fourthly and finally," the
+father said, looking ironically at his son, "I beg you to put it off for
+a year: go abroad, take a cure, look out as you wanted to for a German
+tutor for Prince Nicholas. Then if your love or passion or obstinacy--as
+you please--is still as great, marry! And that's my last word on it.
+Mind, the last..." concluded the prince, in a tone which showed that
+nothing would make him alter his decision.
+
+Prince Andrew saw clearly that the old man hoped that his feelings, or
+his fiancee's, would not stand a year's test, or that he (the old prince
+himself) would die before then, and he decided to conform to his
+father's wish--to propose, and postpone the wedding for a year.
+
+Three weeks after the last evening he had spent with the Rostovs, Prince
+Andrew returned to Petersburg.
+
+Next day after her talk with her mother Natasha expected Bolkonski all
+day, but he did not come. On the second and third day it was the same.
+Pierre did not come either and Natasha, not knowing that Prince Andrew
+had gone to see his father, could not explain his absence to herself.
+
+Three weeks passed in this way. Natasha had no desire to go out anywhere
+and wandered from room to room like a shadow, idle and listless; she
+wept secretly at night and did not go to her mother in the evenings. She
+blushed continually and was irritable. It seemed to her that everybody
+knew about her disappointment and was laughing at her and pitying her.
+Strong as was her inward grief, this wound to her vanity intensified her
+misery.
+
+Once she came to her mother, tried to say something, and suddenly began
+to cry. Her tears were those of an offended child who does not know why
+it is being punished.
+
+The countess began to soothe Natasha, who after first listening to her
+mother's words, suddenly interrupted her:
+
+"Leave off, Mamma! I don't think, and don't want to think about it! He
+just came and then left off, left off..."
+
+Her voice trembled, and she again nearly cried, but recovered and went
+on quietly:
+
+"And I don't at all want to get married. And I am afraid of him; I have
+now become quite calm, quite calm."
+
+The day after this conversation Natasha put on the old dress which she
+knew had the peculiar property of conducing to cheerfulness in the
+mornings, and that day she returned to the old way of life which she had
+abandoned since the ball. Having finished her morning tea she went to
+the ballroom, which she particularly liked for its loud resonance, and
+began singing her solfeggio. When she had finished her first exercise
+she stood still in the middle of the room and sang a musical phrase that
+particularly pleased her. She listened joyfully (as though she had not
+expected it) to the charm of the notes reverberating, filling the whole
+empty ballroom, and slowly dying away; and all at once she felt
+cheerful. "What's the good of making so much of it? Things are nice as
+it is," she said to herself, and she began walking up and down the room,
+not stepping simply on the resounding parquet but treading with each
+step from the heel to the toe (she had on a new and favorite pair of
+shoes) and listening to the regular tap of the heel and creak of the toe
+as gladly as she had to the sounds of her own voice. Passing a mirror
+she glanced into it. "There, that's me!" the expression of her face
+seemed to say as she caught sight of herself. "Well, and very nice too!
+I need nobody."
+
+A footman wanted to come in to clear away something in the room but she
+would not let him, and having closed the door behind him continued her
+walk. That morning she had returned to her favorite mood--love of, and
+delight in, herself. "How charming that Natasha is!" she said again,
+speaking as some third, collective, male person. "Pretty, a good voice,
+young, and in nobody's way if only they leave her in peace." But however
+much they left her in peace she could not now be at peace, and
+immediately felt this.
+
+In the hall the porch door opened, and someone asked, "At home?" and
+then footsteps were heard. Natasha was looking at the mirror, but did
+not see herself. She listened to the sounds in the hall. When she saw
+herself, her face was pale. It was he. She knew this for certain, though
+she hardly heard his voice through the closed doors.
+
+Pale and agitated, Natasha ran into the drawing room.
+
+"Mamma! Bolkonski has come!" she said. "Mamma, it is awful, it is
+unbearable! I don't want... to be tormented? What am I to do?..."
+
+Before the countess could answer, Prince Andrew entered the room with an
+agitated and serious face. As soon as he saw Natasha his face
+brightened. He kissed the countess' hand and Natasha's, and sat down
+beside the sofa.
+
+"It is long since we had the pleasure..." began the countess, but Prince
+Andrew interrupted her by answering her intended question, obviously in
+haste to say what he had to.
+
+"I have not been to see you all this time because I have been at my
+father's. I had to talk over a very important matter with him. I only
+got back last night," he said glancing at Natasha; "I want to have a
+talk with you, Countess," he added after a moment's pause.
+
+The countess lowered her eyes, sighing deeply.
+
+"I am at your disposal," she murmured.
+
+Natasha knew that she ought to go away, but was unable to do so:
+something gripped her throat, and regardless of manners she stared
+straight at Prince Andrew with wide-open eyes.
+
+"At once? This instant!... No, it can't be!" she thought.
+
+Again he glanced at her, and that glance convinced her that she was not
+mistaken. Yes, at once, that very instant, her fate would be decided.
+
+"Go, Natasha! I will call you," said the countess in a whisper.
+
+Natasha glanced with frightened imploring eyes at Prince Andrew and at
+her mother and went out.
+
+"I have come, Countess, to ask for your daughter's hand," said Prince
+Andrew.
+
+The countess' face flushed hotly, but she said nothing.
+
+"Your offer..." she began at last sedately. He remained silent, looking
+into her eyes. "Your offer..." (she grew confused) "is agreeable to us,
+and I accept your offer. I am glad. And my husband... I hope... but it
+will depend on her...."
+
+"I will speak to her when I have your consent.... Do you give it to me?"
+said Prince Andrew.
+
+"Yes," replied the countess. She held out her hand to him, and with a
+mixed feeling of estrangement and tenderness pressed her lips to his
+forehead as he stooped to kiss her hand. She wished to love him as a
+son, but felt that to her he was a stranger and a terrifying man. "I am
+sure my husband will consent," said the countess, "but your father..."
+
+"My father, to whom I have told my plans, has made it an express
+condition of his consent that the wedding is not to take place for a
+year. And I wished to tell you of that," said Prince Andrew.
+
+"It is true that Natasha is still young, but--so long as that?..."
+
+"It is unavoidable," said Prince Andrew with a sigh.
+
+"I will send her to you," said the countess, and left the room.
+
+"Lord have mercy upon us!" she repeated while seeking her daughter.
+
+Sonya said that Natasha was in her bedroom. Natasha was sitting on the
+bed, pale and dry eyed, and was gazing at the icons and whispering
+something as she rapidly crossed herself. Seeing her mother she jumped
+up and flew to her.
+
+"Well, Mamma?... Well?..."
+
+"Go, go to him. He is asking for your hand," said the countess, coldly
+it seemed to Natasha. "Go... go," said the mother, sadly and
+reproachfully, with a deep sigh, as her daughter ran away.
+
+Natasha never remembered how she entered the drawing room. When she came
+in and saw him she paused. "Is it possible that this stranger has now
+become everything to me?" she asked herself, and immediately answered,
+"Yes, everything! He alone is now dearer to me than everything in the
+world." Prince Andrew came up to her with downcast eyes.
+
+"I have loved you from the very first moment I saw you. May I hope?"
+
+He looked at her and was struck by the serious impassioned expression of
+her face. Her face said: "Why ask? Why doubt what you cannot but know?
+Why speak, when words cannot express what one feels?"
+
+She drew near to him and stopped. He took her hand and kissed it.
+
+"Do you love me?"
+
+"Yes, yes!" Natasha murmured as if in vexation. Then she sighed loudly
+and, catching her breath more and more quickly, began to sob.
+
+"What is it? What's the matter?"
+
+"Oh, I am so happy!" she replied, smiled through her tears, bent over
+closer to him, paused for an instant as if asking herself whether she
+might, and then kissed him.
+
+Prince Andrew held her hands, looked into her eyes, and did not find in
+his heart his former love for her. Something in him had suddenly
+changed; there was no longer the former poetic and mystic charm of
+desire, but there was pity for her feminine and childish weakness, fear
+at her devotion and trustfulness, and an oppressive yet joyful sense of
+the duty that now bound him to her forever. The present feeling, though
+not so bright and poetic as the former, was stronger and more serious.
+
+"Did your mother tell you that it cannot be for a year?" asked Prince
+Andrew, still looking into her eyes.
+
+"Is it possible that I--the 'chit of a girl,' as everybody called me,"
+thought Natasha--"is it possible that I am now to be the wife and the
+equal of this strange, dear, clever man whom even my father looks up to?
+Can it be true? Can it be true that there can be no more playing with
+life, that now I am grown up, that on me now lies a responsibility for
+my every word and deed? Yes, but what did he ask me?"
+
+"No," she replied, but she had not understood his question.
+
+"Forgive me!" he said. "But you are so young, and I have already been
+through so much in life. I am afraid for you, you do not yet know
+yourself."
+
+Natasha listened with concentrated attention, trying but failing to take
+in the meaning of his words.
+
+"Hard as this year which delays my happiness will be," continued Prince
+Andrew, "it will give you time to be sure of yourself. I ask you to make
+me happy in a year, but you are free: our engagement shall remain a
+secret, and should you find that you do not love me, or should you come
+to love..." said Prince Andrew with an unnatural smile.
+
+"Why do you say that?" Natasha interrupted him. "You know that from the
+very day you first came to Otradnoe I have loved you," she cried, quite
+convinced that she spoke the truth.
+
+"In a year you will learn to know yourself...."
+
+"A whole year!" Natasha repeated suddenly, only now realizing that the
+marriage was to be postponed for a year. "But why a year? Why a
+year?..."
+
+Prince Andrew began to explain to her the reasons for this delay.
+Natasha did not hear him.
+
+"And can't it be helped?" she asked. Prince Andrew did not reply, but
+his face expressed the impossibility of altering that decision.
+
+"It's awful! Oh, it's awful! awful!" Natasha suddenly cried, and again
+burst into sobs. "I shall die, waiting a year: it's impossible, it's
+awful!" She looked into her lover's face and saw in it a look of
+commiseration and perplexity.
+
+"No, no! I'll do anything!" she said, suddenly checking her tears. "I am
+so happy."
+
+The father and mother came into the room and gave the betrothed couple
+their blessing.
+
+From that day Prince Andrew began to frequent the Rostovs' as Natasha's
+affianced lover.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+No betrothal ceremony took place and Natasha's engagement to Bolkonski
+was not announced; Prince Andrew insisted on that. He said that as he
+was responsible for the delay he ought to bear the whole burden of it;
+that he had given his word and bound himself forever, but that he did
+not wish to bind Natasha and gave her perfect freedom. If after six
+months she felt that she did not love him she would have full right to
+reject him. Naturally neither Natasha nor her parents wished to hear of
+this, but Prince Andrew was firm. He came every day to the Rostovs', but
+did not behave to Natasha as an affianced lover: he did not use the
+familiar thou, but said you to her, and kissed only her hand. After
+their engagement, quite different, intimate, and natural relations
+sprang up between them. It was as if they had not known each other till
+now. Both liked to recall how they had regarded each other when as yet
+they were nothing to one another; they felt themselves now quite
+different beings: then they were artificial, now natural and sincere. At
+first the family felt some constraint in intercourse with Prince Andrew;
+he seemed a man from another world, and for a long time Natasha trained
+the family to get used to him, proudly assuring them all that he only
+appeared to be different, but was really just like all of them, and that
+she was not afraid of him and no one else ought to be. After a few days
+they grew accustomed to him, and without restraint in his presence
+pursued their usual way of life, in which he took his part. He could
+talk about rural economy with the count, fashions with the countess and
+Natasha, and about albums and fancywork with Sonya. Sometimes the
+household both among themselves and in his presence expressed their
+wonder at how it had all happened, and at the evident omens there had
+been of it: Prince Andrew's coming to Otradnoe and their coming to
+Petersburg, and the likeness between Natasha and Prince Andrew which her
+nurse had noticed on his first visit, and Andrew's encounter with
+Nicholas in 1805, and many other incidents betokening that it had to be.
+
+In the house that poetic dullness and quiet reigned which always
+accompanies the presence of a betrothed couple. Often when all sitting
+together everyone kept silent. Sometimes the others would get up and go
+away and the couple, left alone, still remained silent. They rarely
+spoke of their future life. Prince Andrew was afraid and ashamed to
+speak of it. Natasha shared this as she did all his feelings, which she
+constantly divined. Once she began questioning him about his son. Prince
+Andrew blushed, as he often did now--Natasha particularly liked it in
+him--and said that his son would not live with them.
+
+"Why not?" asked Natasha in a frightened tone.
+
+"I cannot take him away from his grandfather, and besides..."
+
+"How I should have loved him!" said Natasha, immediately guessing his
+thought; "but I know you wish to avoid any pretext for finding fault
+with us."
+
+Sometimes the old count would come up, kiss Prince Andrew, and ask his
+advice about Petya's education or Nicholas' service. The old countess
+sighed as she looked at them; Sonya was always getting frightened lest
+she should be in the way and tried to find excuses for leaving them
+alone, even when they did not wish it. When Prince Andrew spoke (he
+could tell a story very well), Natasha listened to him with pride; when
+she spoke she noticed with fear and joy that he gazed attentively and
+scrutinizingly at her. She asked herself in perplexity: "What does he
+look for in me? He is trying to discover something by looking at me!
+What if what he seeks in me is not there?" Sometimes she fell into one
+of the mad, merry moods characteristic of her, and then she particularly
+loved to hear and see how Prince Andrew laughed. He seldom laughed, but
+when he did he abandoned himself entirely to his laughter, and after
+such a laugh she always felt nearer to him. Natasha would have been
+completely happy if the thought of the separation awaiting her and
+drawing near had not terrified her, just as the mere thought of it made
+him turn pale and cold.
+
+On the eve of his departure from Petersburg Prince Andrew brought with
+him Pierre, who had not been to the Rostovs' once since the ball. Pierre
+seemed disconcerted and embarrassed. He was talking to the countess, and
+Natasha sat down beside a little chess table with Sonya, thereby
+inviting Prince Andrew to come too. He did so.
+
+"You have known Bezukhov a long time?" he asked. "Do you like him?"
+
+"Yes, he's a dear, but very absurd."
+
+And as usual when speaking of Pierre, she began to tell anecdotes of his
+absent-mindedness, some of which had even been invented about him.
+
+"Do you know I have entrusted him with our secret? I have known him from
+childhood. He has a heart of gold. I beg you, Natalie," Prince Andrew
+said with sudden seriousness--"I am going away and heaven knows what may
+happen. You may cease to... all right, I know I am not to say that. Only
+this, then: whatever may happen to you when I am not here..."
+
+"What can happen?"
+
+"Whatever trouble may come," Prince Andrew continued, "I beg you,
+Mademoiselle Sophie, whatever may happen, to turn to him alone for
+advice and help! He is a most absent-minded and absurd fellow, but he
+has a heart of gold."
+
+Neither her father, nor her mother, nor Sonya, nor Prince Andrew himself
+could have foreseen how the separation from her lover would act on
+Natasha. Flushed and agitated she went about the house all that day,
+dry-eyed, occupied with most trivial matters as if not understanding
+what awaited her. She did not even cry when, on taking leave, he kissed
+her hand for the last time. "Don't go!" she said in a tone that made him
+wonder whether he really ought not to stay and which he remembered long
+afterwards. Nor did she cry when he was gone; but for several days she
+sat in her room dry-eyed, taking no interest in anything and only saying
+now and then, "Oh, why did he go away?"
+
+But a fortnight after his departure, to the surprise of those around
+her, she recovered from her mental sickness just as suddenly and became
+her old self again, but with a change in her moral physiognomy, as a
+child gets up after a long illness with a changed expression of face.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+During that year after his son's departure, Prince Nicholas Bolkonski's
+health and temper became much worse. He grew still more irritable, and
+it was Princess Mary who generally bore the brunt of his frequent fits
+of unprovoked anger. He seemed carefully to seek out her tender spots so
+as to torture her mentally as harshly as possible. Princess Mary had two
+passions and consequently two joys--her nephew, little Nicholas, and
+religion--and these were the favorite subjects of the prince's attacks
+and ridicule. Whatever was spoken of he would bring round to the
+superstitiousness of old maids, or the petting and spoiling of children.
+"You want to make him"--little Nicholas--"into an old maid like
+yourself! A pity! Prince Andrew wants a son and not an old maid," he
+would say. Or, turning to Mademoiselle Bourienne, he would ask her in
+Princess Mary's presence how she liked our village priests and icons and
+would joke about them.
+
+He continually hurt Princess Mary's feelings and tormented her, but it
+cost her no effort to forgive him. Could he be to blame toward her, or
+could her father, whom she knew loved her in spite of it all, be unjust?
+And what is justice? The princess never thought of that proud word
+"justice." All the complex laws of man centered for her in one clear and
+simple law--the law of love and self-sacrifice taught us by Him who
+lovingly suffered for mankind though He Himself was God. What had she to
+do with the justice or injustice of other people? She had to endure and
+love, and that she did.
+
+During the winter Prince Andrew had come to Bald Hills and had been gay,
+gentle, and more affectionate than Princess Mary had known him for a
+long time past. She felt that something had happened to him, but he said
+nothing to her about his love. Before he left he had a long talk with
+his father about something, and Princess Mary noticed that before his
+departure they were dissatisfied with one another.
+
+Soon after Prince Andrew had gone, Princess Mary wrote to her friend
+Julie Karagina in Petersburg, whom she had dreamed (as all girls dream)
+of marrying to her brother, and who was at that time in mourning for her
+own brother, killed in Turkey.
+
+Sorrow, it seems, is our common lot, my dear, tender friend Julie.
+
+Your loss is so terrible that I can only explain it to myself as a
+special providence of God who, loving you, wishes to try you and your
+excellent mother. Oh, my friend! Religion, and religion alone, can--I
+will not say comfort us--but save us from despair. Religion alone can
+explain to us what without its help man cannot comprehend: why, for what
+cause, kind and noble beings able to find happiness in life--not merely
+harming no one but necessary to the happiness of others--are called away
+to God, while cruel, useless, harmful persons, or such as are a burden
+to themselves and to others, are left living. The first death I saw, and
+one I shall never forget--that of my dear sister-in-law--left that
+impression on me. Just as you ask destiny why your splendid brother had
+to die, so I asked why that angel Lise, who not only never wronged
+anyone, but in whose soul there were never any unkind thoughts, had to
+die. And what do you think, dear friend? Five years have passed since
+then, and already I, with my petty understanding, begin to see clearly
+why she had to die, and in what way that death was but an expression of
+the infinite goodness of the Creator, whose every action, though
+generally incomprehensible to us, is but a manifestation of His infinite
+love for His creatures. Perhaps, I often think, she was too angelically
+innocent to have the strength to perform all a mother's duties. As a
+young wife she was irreproachable; perhaps she could not have been so as
+a mother. As it is, not only has she left us, and particularly Prince
+Andrew, with the purest regrets and memories, but probably she will
+there receive a place I dare not hope for myself. But not to speak of
+her alone, that early and terrible death has had the most beneficent
+influence on me and on my brother in spite of all our grief. Then, at
+the moment of our loss, these thoughts could not occur to me; I should
+then have dismissed them with horror, but now they are very clear and
+certain. I write all this to you, dear friend, only to convince you of
+the Gospel truth which has become for me a principle of life: not a
+single hair of our heads will fall without His will. And His will is
+governed only by infinite love for us, and so whatever befalls us is for
+our good.
+
+You ask whether we shall spend next winter in Moscow. In spite of my
+wish to see you, I do not think so and do not want to do so. You will be
+surprised to hear that the reason for this is Buonaparte! The case is
+this: my father's health is growing noticeably worse, he cannot stand
+any contradiction and is becoming irritable. This irritability is, as
+you know, chiefly directed to political questions. He cannot endure the
+notion that Buonaparte is negotiating on equal terms with all the
+sovereigns of Europe and particularly with our own, the grandson of the
+Great Catherine! As you know, I am quite indifferent to politics, but
+from my father's remarks and his talks with Michael Ivanovich I know all
+that goes on in the world and especially about the honors conferred on
+Buonaparte, who only at Bald Hills in the whole world, it seems, is not
+accepted as a great man, still less as Emperor of France. And my father
+cannot stand this. It seems to me that it is chiefly because of his
+political views that my father is reluctant to speak of going to Moscow;
+for he foresees the encounters that would result from his way of
+expressing his views regardless of anybody. All the benefit he might
+derive from a course of treatment he would lose as a result of the
+disputes about Buonaparte which would be inevitable. In any case it will
+be decided very shortly.
+
+Our family life goes on in the old way except for my brother Andrew's
+absence. He, as I wrote you before, has changed very much of late. After
+his sorrow he only this year quite recovered his spirits. He has again
+become as I used to know him when a child: kind, affectionate, with that
+heart of gold to which I know no equal. He has realized, it seems to me,
+that life is not over for him. But together with this mental change he
+has grown physically much weaker. He has become thinner and more
+nervous. I am anxious about him and glad he is taking this trip abroad
+which the doctors recommended long ago. I hope it will cure him. You
+write that in Petersburg he is spoken of as one of the most active,
+cultivated, and capable of the young men. Forgive my vanity as a
+relation, but I never doubted it. The good he has done to everybody
+here, from his peasants up to the gentry, is incalculable. On his
+arrival in Petersburg he received only his due. I always wonder at the
+way rumors fly from Petersburg to Moscow, especially such false ones as
+that you write about--I mean the report of my brother's betrothal to the
+little Rostova. I do not think my brother will ever marry again, and
+certainly not her; and this is why: first, I know that though he rarely
+speaks about the wife he has lost, the grief of that loss has gone too
+deep in his heart for him ever to decide to give her a successor and our
+little angel a stepmother. Secondly because, as far as I know, that girl
+is not the kind of girl who could please Prince Andrew. I do not think
+he would choose her for a wife, and frankly I do not wish it. But I am
+running on too long and am at the end of my second sheet. Good-bye, my
+dear friend. May God keep you in His holy and mighty care. My dear
+friend, Mademoiselle Bourienne, sends you kisses.
+
+MARY
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+In the middle of the summer Princess Mary received an unexpected letter
+from Prince Andrew in Switzerland in which he gave her strange and
+surprising news. He informed her of his engagement to Natasha Rostova.
+The whole letter breathed loving rapture for his betrothed and tender
+and confiding affection for his sister. He wrote that he had never loved
+as he did now and that only now did he understand and know what life
+was. He asked his sister to forgive him for not having told her of his
+resolve when he had last visited Bald Hills, though he had spoken of it
+to his father. He had not done so for fear Princess Mary should ask her
+father to give his consent, irritating him and having to bear the brunt
+of his displeasure without attaining her object. "Besides," he wrote,
+"the matter was not then so definitely settled as it is now. My father
+then insisted on a delay of a year and now already six months, half of
+that period, have passed, and my resolution is firmer than ever. If the
+doctors did not keep me here at the spas I should be back in Russia, but
+as it is I have to postpone my return for three months. You know me and
+my relations with Father. I want nothing from him. I have been and
+always shall be independent; but to go against his will and arouse his
+anger, now that he may perhaps remain with us such a short time, would
+destroy half my happiness. I am now writing to him about the same
+question, and beg you to choose a good moment to hand him the letter and
+to let me know how he looks at the whole matter and whether there is
+hope that he may consent to reduce the term by four months."
+
+After long hesitations, doubts, and prayers, Princess Mary gave the
+letter to her father. The next day the old prince said to her quietly:
+
+"Write and tell your brother to wait till I am dead.... It won't be
+long--I shall soon set him free."
+
+The princess was about to reply, but her father would not let her speak
+and, raising his voice more and more, cried:
+
+"Marry, marry, my boy!... A good family!... Clever people, eh? Rich, eh?
+Yes, a nice stepmother little Nicholas will have! Write and tell him
+that he may marry tomorrow if he likes. She will be little Nicholas'
+stepmother and I'll marry Bourienne!... Ha, ha, ha! He mustn't be
+without a stepmother either! Only one thing, no more women are wanted in
+my house--let him marry and live by himself. Perhaps you will go and
+live with him too?" he added, turning to Princess Mary. "Go in heaven's
+name! Go out into the frost... the frost... the frost!"
+
+After this outburst the prince did not speak any more about the matter.
+But repressed vexation at his son's poor-spirited behavior found
+expression in his treatment of his daughter. To his former pretexts for
+irony a fresh one was now added--allusions to stepmothers and
+amiabilities to Mademoiselle Bourienne.
+
+"Why shouldn't I marry her?" he asked his daughter. "She'll make a
+splendid princess!"
+
+And latterly, to her surprise and bewilderment, Princess Mary noticed
+that her father was really associating more and more with the
+Frenchwoman. She wrote to Prince Andrew about the reception of his
+letter, but comforted him with hopes of reconciling their father to the
+idea.
+
+Little Nicholas and his education, her brother Andrew, and religion were
+Princess Mary's joys and consolations; but besides that, since everyone
+must have personal hopes, Princess Mary in the profoundest depths of her
+heart had a hidden dream and hope that supplied the chief consolation of
+her life. This comforting dream and hope were given her by God's folk--
+the half-witted and other pilgrims who visited her without the prince's
+knowledge. The longer she lived, the more experience and observation she
+had of life, the greater was her wonder at the short-sightedness of men
+who seek enjoyment and happiness here on earth: toiling, suffering,
+struggling, and harming one another, to obtain that impossible,
+visionary, sinful happiness. Prince Andrew had loved his wife, she died,
+but that was not enough: he wanted to bind his happiness to another
+woman. Her father objected to this because he wanted a more
+distinguished and wealthier match for Andrew. And they all struggled and
+suffered and tormented one another and injured their souls, their
+eternal souls, for the attainment of benefits which endure but for an
+instant. Not only do we know this ourselves, but Christ, the Son of God,
+came down to earth and told us that this life is but for a moment and is
+a probation; yet we cling to it and think to find happiness in it. "How
+is it that no one realizes this?" thought Princess Mary. "No one except
+these despised God's folk who, wallet on back, come to me by the back
+door, afraid of being seen by the prince, not for fear of ill-usage by
+him but for fear of causing him to sin. To leave family, home, and all
+the cares of worldly welfare, in order without clinging to anything to
+wander in hempen rags from place to place under an assumed name, doing
+no one any harm but praying for all--for those who drive one away as
+well as for those who protect one: higher than that life and truth there
+is no life or truth!"
+
+There was one pilgrim, a quiet pockmarked little woman of fifty called
+Theodosia, who for over thirty years had gone about barefoot and worn
+heavy chains. Princess Mary was particularly fond of her. Once, when in
+a room with a lamp dimly lit before the icon Theodosia was talking of
+her life, the thought that Theodosia alone had found the true path of
+life suddenly came to Princess Mary with such force that she resolved to
+become a pilgrim herself. When Theodosia had gone to sleep Princess Mary
+thought about this for a long time, and at last made up her mind that,
+strange as it might seem, she must go on a pilgrimage. She disclosed
+this thought to no one but to her confessor, Father Akinfi, the monk,
+and he approved of her intention. Under guise of a present for the
+pilgrims, Princess Mary prepared a pilgrim's complete costume for
+herself: a coarse smock, bast shoes, a rough coat, and a black kerchief.
+Often, approaching the chest of drawers containing this secret treasure,
+Princess Mary paused, uncertain whether the time had not already come to
+put her project into execution.
+
+Often, listening to the pilgrims' tales, she was so stimulated by their
+simple speech, mechanical to them but to her so full of deep meaning,
+that several times she was on the point of abandoning everything and
+running away from home. In imagination she already pictured herself by
+Theodosia's side, dressed in coarse rags, walking with a staff, a wallet
+on her back, along the dusty road, directing her wanderings from one
+saint's shrine to another, free from envy, earthly love, or desire, and
+reaching at last the place where there is no more sorrow or sighing, but
+eternal joy and bliss.
+
+"I shall come to a place and pray there, and before having time to get
+used to it or getting to love it, I shall go farther. I will go on till
+my legs fail, and I'll lie down and die somewhere, and shall at last
+reach that eternal, quiet haven, where there is neither sorrow nor
+sighing..." thought Princess Mary.
+
+But afterwards, when she saw her father and especially little Koko
+(Nicholas), her resolve weakened. She wept quietly, and felt that she
+was a sinner who loved her father and little nephew more than God.
+
+BOOK SEVEN: 1810 - 11
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+The Bible legend tells us that the absence of labor--idleness--was a
+condition of the first man's blessedness before the Fall. Fallen man has
+retained a love of idleness, but the curse weighs on the race not only
+because we have to seek our bread in the sweat of our brows, but because
+our moral nature is such that we cannot be both idle and at ease. An
+inner voice tells us we are in the wrong if we are idle. If man could
+find a state in which he felt that though idle he was fulfilling his
+duty, he would have found one of the conditions of man's primitive
+blessedness. And such a state of obligatory and irreproachable idleness
+is the lot of a whole class--the military. The chief attraction of
+military service has consisted and will consist in this compulsory and
+irreproachable idleness.
+
+Nicholas Rostov experienced this blissful condition to the full when,
+after 1807, he continued to serve in the Pavlograd regiment, in which he
+already commanded the squadron he had taken over from Denisov.
+
+Rostov had become a bluff, good-natured fellow, whom his Moscow
+acquaintances would have considered rather bad form, but who was liked
+and respected by his comrades, subordinates, and superiors, and was well
+contented with his life. Of late, in 1809, he found in letters from home
+more frequent complaints from his mother that their affairs were falling
+into greater and greater disorder, and that it was time for him to come
+back to gladden and comfort his old parents.
+
+Reading these letters, Nicholas felt a dread of their wanting to take
+him away from surroundings in which, protected from all the
+entanglements of life, he was living so calmly and quietly. He felt that
+sooner or later he would have to re-enter that whirlpool of life, with
+its embarrassments and affairs to be straightened out, its accounts with
+stewards, quarrels, and intrigues, its ties, society, and with Sonya's
+love and his promise to her. It was all dreadfully difficult and
+complicated; and he replied to his mother in cold, formal letters in
+French, beginning: "My dear Mamma," and ending: "Your obedient son,"
+which said nothing of when he would return. In 1810 he received letters
+from his parents, in which they told him of Natasha's engagement to
+Bolkonski, and that the wedding would be in a year's time because the
+old prince made difficulties. This letter grieved and mortified
+Nicholas. In the first place he was sorry that Natasha, for whom he
+cared more than for anyone else in the family, should be lost to the
+home; and secondly, from his hussar point of view, he regretted not to
+have been there to show that fellow Bolkonski that connection with him
+was no such great honor after all, and that if he loved Natasha he might
+dispense with permission from his dotard father. For a moment he
+hesitated whether he should not apply for leave in order to see Natasha
+before she was married, but then came the maneuvers, and considerations
+about Sonya and about the confusion of their affairs, and Nicholas again
+put it off. But in the spring of that year, he received a letter from
+his mother, written without his father's knowledge, and that letter
+persuaded him to return. She wrote that if he did not come and take
+matters in hand, their whole property would be sold by auction and they
+would all have to go begging. The count was so weak, and trusted Mitenka
+so much, and was so good-natured, that everybody took advantage of him
+and things were going from bad to worse. "For God's sake, I implore you,
+come at once if you do not wish to make me and the whole family
+wretched," wrote the countess.
+
+This letter touched Nicholas. He had that common sense of a matter-of-
+fact man which showed him what he ought to do.
+
+The right thing now was, if not to retire from the service, at any rate
+to go home on leave. Why he had to go he did not know; but after his
+after-dinner nap he gave orders to saddle Mars, an extremely vicious
+gray stallion that had not been ridden for a long time, and when he
+returned with the horse all in a lather, he informed Lavrushka
+(Denisov's servant who had remained with him) and his comrades who
+turned up in the evening that he was applying for leave and was going
+home. Difficult and strange as it was for him to reflect that he would
+go away without having heard from the staff--and this interested him
+extremely--whether he was promoted to a captaincy or would receive the
+Order of St. Anne for the last maneuvers; strange as it was to think
+that he would go away without having sold his three roans to the Polish
+Count Golukhovski, who was bargaining for the horses Rostov had betted
+he would sell for two thousand rubles; incomprehensible as it seemed
+that the ball the hussars were giving in honor of the Polish
+Mademoiselle Przazdziecka (out of rivalry to the uhlans who had given
+one in honor of their Polish Mademoiselle Borzozowska) would take place
+without him--he knew he must go away from this good, bright world to
+somewhere where everything was stupid and confused. A week later he
+obtained his leave. His hussar comrades--not only those of his own
+regiment, but the whole brigade--gave Rostov a dinner to which the
+subscription was fifteen rubles a head, and at which there were two
+bands and two choirs of singers. Rostov danced the Trepak with Major
+Basov; the tipsy officers tossed, embraced, and dropped Rostov; the
+soldiers of the third squadron tossed him too, and shouted "hurrah!" and
+then they put him in his sleigh and escorted him as far as the first
+post station.
+
+During the first half of the journey--from Kremenchug to Kiev--all
+Rostov's thoughts, as is usual in such cases, were behind him, with the
+squadron; but when he had gone more than halfway he began to forget his
+three roans and Dozhoyveyko, his quartermaster, and to wonder anxiously
+how things would be at Otradnoe and what he would find there. Thoughts
+of home grew stronger the nearer he approached it--far stronger, as
+though this feeling of his was subject to the law by which the force of
+attraction is in inverse proportion to the square of the distance. At
+the last post station before Otradnoe he gave the driver a three-ruble
+tip, and on arriving he ran breathlessly, like a boy, up the steps of
+his home.
+
+After the rapture of meeting, and after that odd feeling of unsatisfied
+expectation--the feeling that "everything is just the same, so why did I
+hurry?"--Nicholas began to settle down in his old home world. His father
+and mother were much the same, only a little older. What was new in them
+was a certain uneasiness and occasional discord, which there used not to
+be, and which, as Nicholas soon found out, was due to the bad state of
+their affairs. Sonya was nearly twenty; she had stopped growing prettier
+and promised nothing more than she was already, but that was enough. She
+exhaled happiness and love from the time Nicholas returned, and the
+faithful, unalterable love of this girl had a gladdening effect on him.
+Petya and Natasha surprised Nicholas most. Petya was a big handsome boy
+of thirteen, merry, witty, and mischievous, with a voice that was
+already breaking. As for Natasha, for a long while Nicholas wondered and
+laughed whenever he looked at her.
+
+"You're not the same at all," he said.
+
+"How? Am I uglier?"
+
+"On the contrary, but what dignity? A princess!" he whispered to her.
+
+"Yes, yes, yes!" cried Natasha, joyfully.
+
+She told him about her romance with Prince Andrew and of his visit to
+Otradnoe and showed him his last letter.
+
+"Well, are you glad?" Natasha asked. "I am so tranquil and happy now."
+
+"Very glad," answered Nicholas. "He is an excellent fellow.... And are
+you very much in love?"
+
+"How shall I put it?" replied Natasha. "I was in love with Boris, with
+my teacher, and with Denisov, but this is quite different. I feel at
+peace and settled. I know that no better man than he exists, and I am
+calm and contented now. Not at all as before."
+
+Nicholas expressed his disapproval of the postponement of the marriage
+for a year; but Natasha attacked her brother with exasperation, proving
+to him that it could not be otherwise, and that it would be a bad thing
+to enter a family against the father's will, and that she herself wished
+it so.
+
+"You don't at all understand," she said.
+
+Nicholas was silent and agreed with her.
+
+Her brother often wondered as he looked at her. She did not seem at all
+like a girl in love and parted from her affianced husband. She was even-
+tempered and calm and quite as cheerful as of old. This amazed Nicholas
+and even made him regard Bolkonski's courtship skeptically. He could not
+believe that her fate was sealed, especially as he had not seen her with
+Prince Andrew. It always seemed to him that there was something not
+quite right about this intended marriage.
+
+"Why this delay? Why no betrothal?" he thought. Once, when he had
+touched on this topic with his mother, he discovered, to his surprise
+and somewhat to his satisfaction, that in the depth of her soul she too
+had doubts about this marriage.
+
+"You see he writes," said she, showing her son a letter of Prince
+Andrew's, with that latent grudge a mother always has in regard to a
+daughter's future married happiness, "he writes that he won't come
+before December. What can be keeping him? Illness, probably! His health
+is very delicate. Don't tell Natasha. And don't attach importance to her
+being so bright: that's because she's living through the last days of
+her girlhood, but I know what she is like every time we receive a letter
+from him! However, God grant that everything turns out well!" (She
+always ended with these words.) "He is an excellent man!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+After reaching home Nicholas was at first serious and even dull. He was
+worried by the impending necessity of interfering in the stupid business
+matters for which his mother had called him home. To throw off this
+burden as quickly as possible, on the third day after his arrival he
+went, angry and scowling and without answering questions as to where he
+was going, to Mitenka's lodge and demanded an account of everything. But
+what an account of everything might be Nicholas knew even less than the
+frightened and bewildered Mitenka. The conversation and the examination
+of the accounts with Mitenka did not last long. The village elder, a
+peasant delegate, and the village clerk, who were waiting in the
+passage, heard with fear and delight first the young count's voice
+roaring and snapping and rising louder and louder, and then words of
+abuse, dreadful words, ejaculated one after the other.
+
+"Robber!... Ungrateful wretch!... I'll hack the dog to pieces! I'm not
+my father!... Robbing us!..." and so on.
+
+Then with no less fear and delight they saw how the young count, red in
+the face and with bloodshot eyes, dragged Mitenka out by the scruff of
+the neck and applied his foot and knee to his behind with great agility
+at convenient moments between the words, shouting, "Be off! Never let me
+see your face here again, you villain!"
+
+Mitenka flew headlong down the six steps and ran away into the
+shrubbery. (This shrubbery was a well-known haven of refuge for culprits
+at Otradnoe. Mitenka himself, returning tipsy from the town, used to
+hide there, and many of the residents at Otradnoe, hiding from Mitenka,
+knew of its protective qualities.)
+
+Mitenka's wife and sisters-in-law thrust their heads and frightened
+faces out of the door of a room where a bright samovar was boiling and
+where the steward's high bedstead stood with its patchwork quilt.
+
+The young count paid no heed to them, but, breathing hard, passed by
+with resolute strides and went into the house.
+
+The countess, who heard at once from the maids what had happened at the
+lodge, was calmed by the thought that now their affairs would certainly
+improve, but on the other hand felt anxious as to the effect this
+excitement might have on her son. She went several times to his door on
+tiptoe and listened, as he lighted one pipe after another.
+
+Next day the old count called his son aside and, with an embarrassed
+smile, said to him:
+
+"But you know, my dear boy, it's a pity you got excited! Mitenka has
+told me all about it."
+
+"I knew," thought Nicholas, "that I should never understand anything in
+this crazy world."
+
+"You were angry that he had not entered those 700 rubles. But they were
+carried forward--and you did not look at the other page."
+
+"Papa, he is a blackguard and a thief! I know he is! And what I have
+done, I have done; but, if you like, I won't speak to him again."
+
+"No, my dear boy" (the count, too, felt embarrassed. He knew he had
+mismanaged his wife's property and was to blame toward his children, but
+he did not know how to remedy it). "No, I beg you to attend to the
+business. I am old. I..."
+
+"No, Papa. Forgive me if I have caused you unpleasantness. I understand
+it all less than you do."
+
+"Devil take all these peasants, and money matters, and carryings forward
+from page to page," he thought. "I used to understand what a 'corner'
+and the stakes at cards meant, but carrying forward to another page I
+don't understand at all," said he to himself, and after that he did not
+meddle in business affairs. But once the countess called her son and
+informed him that she had a promissory note from Anna Mikhaylovna for
+two thousand rubles, and asked him what he thought of doing with it.
+
+"This," answered Nicholas. "You say it rests with me. Well, I don't like
+Anna Mikhaylovna and I don't like Boris, but they were our friends and
+poor. Well then, this!" and he tore up the note, and by so doing caused
+the old countess to weep tears of joy. After that, young Rostov took no
+further part in any business affairs, but devoted himself with
+passionate enthusiasm to what was to him a new pursuit--the chase--for
+which his father kept a large establishment.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+The weather was already growing wintry and morning frosts congealed an
+earth saturated by autumn rains. The verdure had thickened and its
+bright green stood out sharply against the brownish strips of winter rye
+trodden down by the cattle, and against the pale-yellow stubble of the
+spring buckwheat. The wooded ravines and the copses, which at the end of
+August had still been green islands amid black fields and stubble, had
+become golden and bright-red islands amid the green winter rye. The
+hares had already half changed their summer coats, the fox cubs were
+beginning to scatter, and the young wolves were bigger than dogs. It was
+the best time of the year for the chase. The hounds of that ardent young
+sportsman Rostov had not merely reached hard winter condition, but were
+so jaded that at a meeting of the huntsmen it was decided to give them a
+three days' rest and then, on the sixteenth of September, to go on a
+distant expedition, starting from the oak grove where there was an
+undisturbed litter of wolf cubs.
+
+All that day the hounds remained at home. It was frosty and the air was
+sharp, but toward evening the sky became overcast and it began to thaw.
+On the fifteenth, when young Rostov, in his dressing gown, looked out of
+the window, he saw it was an unsurpassable morning for hunting: it was
+as if the sky were melting and sinking to the earth without any wind.
+The only motion in the air was that of the dripping, microscopic
+particles of drizzling mist. The bare twigs in the garden were hung with
+transparent drops which fell on the freshly fallen leaves. The earth in
+the kitchen garden looked wet and black and glistened like poppy seed
+and at a short distance merged into the dull, moist veil of mist.
+Nicholas went out into the wet and muddy porch. There was a smell of
+decaying leaves and of dog. Milka, a black-spotted, broad-haunched bitch
+with prominent black eyes, got up on seeing her master, stretched her
+hind legs, lay down like a hare, and then suddenly jumped up and licked
+him right on his nose and mustache. Another borzoi, a dog, catching
+sight of his master from the garden path, arched his back and, rushing
+headlong toward the porch with lifted tail, began rubbing himself
+against his legs.
+
+"O-hoy!" came at that moment, that inimitable huntsman's call which
+unites the deepest bass with the shrillest tenor, and round the corner
+came Daniel the head huntsman and head kennelman, a gray, wrinkled old
+man with hair cut straight over his forehead, Ukrainian fashion, a long
+bent whip in his hand, and that look of independence and scorn of
+everything that is only seen in huntsmen. He doffed his Circassian cap
+to his master and looked at him scornfully. This scorn was not offensive
+to his master. Nicholas knew that this Daniel, disdainful of everybody
+and who considered himself above them, was all the same his serf and
+huntsman.
+
+"Daniel!" Nicholas said timidly, conscious at the sight of the weather,
+the hounds, and the huntsman that he was being carried away by that
+irresistible passion for sport which makes a man forget all his previous
+resolutions, as a lover forgets in the presence of his mistress.
+
+"What orders, your excellency?" said the huntsman in his deep bass, deep
+as a proto-deacon's and hoarse with hallooing--and two flashing black
+eyes gazed from under his brows at his master, who was silent. "Can you
+resist it?" those eyes seemed to be asking.
+
+"It's a good day, eh? For a hunt and a gallop, eh?" asked Nicholas,
+scratching Milka behind the ears.
+
+Daniel did not answer, but winked instead.
+
+"I sent Uvarka at dawn to listen," his bass boomed out after a minute's
+pause. "He says she's moved them into the Otradnoe enclosure. They were
+howling there." (This meant that the she-wolf, about whom they both
+knew, had moved with her cubs to the Otradnoe copse, a small place a
+mile and a half from the house.)
+
+"We ought to go, don't you think so?" said Nicholas. "Come to me with
+Uvarka."
+
+"As you please."
+
+"Then put off feeding them."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+Five minutes later Daniel and Uvarka were standing in Nicholas' big
+study. Though Daniel was not a big man, to see him in a room was like
+seeing a horse or a bear on the floor among the furniture and
+surroundings of human life. Daniel himself felt this, and as usual stood
+just inside the door, trying to speak softly and not move, for fear of
+breaking something in the master's apartment, and he hastened to say all
+that was necessary so as to get from under that ceiling, out into the
+open under the sky once more.
+
+Having finished his inquiries and extorted from Daniel an opinion that
+the hounds were fit (Daniel himself wished to go hunting), Nicholas
+ordered the horses to be saddled. But just as Daniel was about to go
+Natasha came in with rapid steps, not having done up her hair or
+finished dressing and with her old nurse's big shawl wrapped round her.
+Petya ran in at the same time.
+
+"You are going?" asked Natasha. "I knew you would! Sonya said you
+wouldn't go, but I knew that today is the sort of day when you couldn't
+help going."
+
+"Yes, we are going," replied Nicholas reluctantly, for today, as he
+intended to hunt seriously, he did not want to take Natasha and Petya.
+"We are going, but only wolf hunting: it would be dull for you."
+
+"You know it is my greatest pleasure," said Natasha. "It's not fair; you
+are going by yourself, are having the horses saddled and said nothing to
+us about it."
+
+"'No barrier bars a Russian's path'--we'll go!" shouted Petya.
+
+"But you can't. Mamma said you mustn't," said Nicholas to Natasha.
+
+"Yes, I'll go. I shall certainly go," said Natasha decisively. "Daniel,
+tell them to saddle for us, and Michael must come with my dogs," she
+added to the huntsman.
+
+It seemed to Daniel irksome and improper to be in a room at all, but to
+have anything to do with a young lady seemed to him impossible. He cast
+down his eyes and hurried out as if it were none of his business,
+careful as he went not to inflict any accidental injury on the young
+lady.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+The old count, who had always kept up an enormous hunting establishment
+but had now handed it all completely over to his son's care, being in
+very good spirits on this fifteenth of September, prepared to go out
+with the others.
+
+In an hour's time the whole hunting party was at the porch. Nicholas,
+with a stern and serious air which showed that now was no time for
+attending to trifles, went past Natasha and Petya who were trying to
+tell him something. He had a look at all the details of the hunt, sent a
+pack of hounds and huntsmen on ahead to find the quarry, mounted his
+chestnut Donets, and whistling to his own leash of borzois, set off
+across the threshing ground to a field leading to the Otradnoe wood. The
+old count's horse, a sorrel gelding called Viflyanka, was led by the
+groom in attendance on him, while the count himself was to drive in a
+small trap straight to a spot reserved for him.
+
+They were taking fifty-four hounds, with six hunt attendants and
+whippers-in. Besides the family, there were eight borzoi kennelmen and
+more than forty borzois, so that, with the borzois on the leash
+belonging to members of the family, there were about a hundred and
+thirty dogs and twenty horsemen.
+
+Each dog knew its master and its call. Each man in the hunt knew his
+business, his place, what he had to do. As soon as they had passed the
+fence they all spread out evenly and quietly, without noise or talk,
+along the road and field leading to the Otradnoe covert.
+
+The horses stepped over the field as over a thick carpet, now and then
+splashing into puddles as they crossed a road. The misty sky still
+seemed to descend evenly and imperceptibly toward the earth, the air was
+still, warm, and silent. Occasionally the whistle of a huntsman, the
+snort of a horse, the crack of a whip, or the whine of a straggling
+hound could be heard.
+
+When they had gone a little less than a mile, five more riders with dogs
+appeared out of the mist, approaching the Rostovs. In front rode a
+fresh-looking, handsome old man with a large gray mustache.
+
+"Good morning, Uncle!" said Nicholas, when the old man drew near.
+
+"That's it. Come on!... I was sure of it," began "Uncle." (He was a
+distant relative of the Rostovs', a man of small means, and their
+neighbor.) "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist it and it's a good
+thing you're going. That's it! Come on!" (This was "Uncle's" favorite
+expression.) "Take the covert at once, for my Girchik says the Ilagins
+are at Korniki with their hounds. That's it. Come on!... They'll take
+the cubs from under your very nose."
+
+"That's where I'm going. Shall we join up our packs?" asked Nicholas.
+
+The hounds were joined into one pack, and "Uncle" and Nicholas rode on
+side by side. Natasha, muffled up in shawls which did not hide her eager
+face and shining eyes, galloped up to them. She was followed by Petya
+who always kept close to her, by Michael, a huntsman, and by a groom
+appointed to look after her. Petya, who was laughing, whipped and pulled
+at his horse. Natasha sat easily and confidently on her black Arabchik
+and reined him in without effort with a firm hand.
+
+"Uncle" looked round disapprovingly at Petya and Natasha. He did not
+like to combine frivolity with the serious business of hunting.
+
+"Good morning, Uncle! We are going too!" shouted Petya.
+
+"Good morning, good morning! But don't go overriding the hounds," said
+"Uncle" sternly.
+
+"Nicholas, what a fine dog Trunila is! He knew me," said Natasha,
+referring to her favorite hound.
+
+"In the first place, Trunila is not a 'dog,' but a harrier," thought
+Nicholas, and looked sternly at his sister, trying to make her feel the
+distance that ought to separate them at that moment. Natasha understood
+it.
+
+"You mustn't think we'll be in anyone's way, Uncle," she said. "We'll go
+to our places and won't budge."
+
+"A good thing too, little countess," said "Uncle," "only mind you don't
+fall off your horse," he added, "because--that's it, come on!--you've
+nothing to hold on to."
+
+The oasis of the Otradnoe covert came in sight a few hundred yards off,
+the huntsmen were already nearing it. Rostov, having finally settled
+with "Uncle" where they should set on the hounds, and having shown
+Natasha where she was to stand--a spot where nothing could possibly run
+out--went round above the ravine.
+
+"Well, nephew, you're going for a big wolf," said "Uncle." "Mind and
+don't let her slip!"
+
+"That's as may happen," answered Rostov. "Karay, here!" he shouted,
+answering "Uncle's" remark by this call to his borzoi. Karay was a
+shaggy old dog with a hanging jowl, famous for having tackled a big wolf
+unaided. They all took up their places.
+
+The old count, knowing his son's ardor in the hunt, hurried so as not to
+be late, and the huntsmen had not yet reached their places when Count
+Ilya Rostov, cheerful, flushed, and with quivering cheeks, drove up with
+his black horses over the winter rye to the place reserved for him,
+where a wolf might come out. Having straightened his coat and fastened
+on his hunting knives and horn, he mounted his good, sleek, well-fed,
+and comfortable horse, Viflyanka, which was turning gray, like himself.
+His horses and trap were sent home. Count Ilya Rostov, though not at
+heart a keen sportsman, knew the rules of the hunt well, and rode to the
+bushy edge of the road where he was to stand, arranged his reins,
+settled himself in the saddle, and, feeling that he was ready, looked
+about with a smile.
+
+Beside him was Simon Chekmar, his personal attendant, an old horseman
+now somewhat stiff in the saddle. Chekmar held in leash three formidable
+wolfhounds, who had, however, grown fat like their master and his horse.
+Two wise old dogs lay down unleashed. Some hundred paces farther along
+the edge of the wood stood Mitka, the count's other groom, a daring
+horseman and keen rider to hounds. Before the hunt, by old custom, the
+count had drunk a silver cupful of mulled brandy, taken a snack, and
+washed it down with half a bottle of his favorite Bordeaux.
+
+He was somewhat flushed with the wine and the drive. His eyes were
+rather moist and glittered more than usual, and as he sat in his saddle,
+wrapped up in his fur coat, he looked like a child taken out for an
+outing.
+
+The thin, hollow-cheeked Chekmar, having got everything ready, kept
+glancing at his master with whom he had lived on the best of terms for
+thirty years, and understanding the mood he was in expected a pleasant
+chat. A third person rode up circumspectly through the wood (it was
+plain that he had had a lesson) and stopped behind the count. This
+person was a gray-bearded old man in a woman's cloak, with a tall peaked
+cap on his head. He was the buffoon, who went by a woman's name,
+Nastasya Ivanovna.
+
+"Well, Nastasya Ivanovna!" whispered the count, winking at him. "If you
+scare away the beast, Daniel'll give it you!"
+
+"I know a thing or two myself!" said Nastasya Ivanovna.
+
+"Hush!" whispered the count and turned to Simon. "Have you seen the
+young countess?" he asked. "Where is she?"
+
+"With young Count Peter, by the Zharov rank grass," answered Simon,
+smiling. "Though she's a lady, she's very fond of hunting."
+
+"And you're surprised at the way she rides, Simon, eh?" said the count.
+"She's as good as many a man!"
+
+"Of course! It's marvelous. So bold, so easy!"
+
+"And Nicholas? Where is he? By the Lyadov upland, isn't he?"
+
+"Yes, sir. He knows where to stand. He understands the matter so well
+that Daniel and I are often quite astounded," said Simon, well knowing
+what would please his master.
+
+"Rides well, eh? And how well he looks on his horse, eh?"
+
+"A perfect picture! How he chased a fox out of the rank grass by the
+Zavarzinsk thicket the other day! Leaped a fearful place; what a sight
+when they rushed from the covert... the horse worth a thousand rubles
+and the rider beyond all price! Yes, one would have to search far to
+find another as smart."
+
+"To search far..." repeated the count, evidently sorry Simon had not
+said more. "To search far," he said, turning back the skirt of his coat
+to get at his snuffbox.
+
+"The other day when he came out from Mass in full uniform, Michael
+Sidorych..." Simon did not finish, for on the still air he had
+distinctly caught the music of the hunt with only two or three hounds
+giving tongue. He bent down his head and listened, shaking a warning
+finger at his master. "They are on the scent of the cubs..." he
+whispered, "straight to the Lyadov uplands."
+
+The count, forgetting to smooth out the smile on his face, looked into
+the distance straight before him, down the narrow open space, holding
+the snuffbox in his hand but not taking any. After the cry of the hounds
+came the deep tones of the wolf call from Daniel's hunting horn; the
+pack joined the first three hounds and they could be heard in full cry,
+with that peculiar lift in the note that indicates that they are after a
+wolf. The whippers-in no longer set on the hounds, but changed to the
+cry of ulyulyu, and above the others rose Daniel's voice, now a deep
+bass, now piercingly shrill. His voice seemed to fill the whole wood and
+carried far beyond out into the open field.
+
+After listening a few moments in silence, the count and his attendant
+convinced themselves that the hounds had separated into two packs: the
+sound of the larger pack, eagerly giving tongue, began to die away in
+the distance, the other pack rushed by the wood past the count, and it
+was with this that Daniel's voice was heard calling ulyulyu. The sounds
+of both packs mingled and broke apart again, but both were becoming more
+distant.
+
+Simon sighed and stooped to straighten the leash a young borzoi had
+entangled; the count too sighed and, noticing the snuffbox in his hand,
+opened it and took a pinch. "Back!" cried Simon to a borzoi that was
+pushing forward out of the wood. The count started and dropped the
+snuffbox. Nastasya Ivanovna dismounted to pick it up. The count and
+Simon were looking at him.
+
+Then, unexpectedly, as often happens, the sound of the hunt suddenly
+approached, as if the hounds in full cry and Daniel ulyulyuing were just
+in front of them.
+
+The count turned and saw on his right Mitka staring at him with eyes
+starting out of his head, raising his cap and pointing before him to the
+other side.
+
+"Look out!" he shouted, in a voice plainly showing that he had long
+fretted to utter that word, and letting the borzois slip he galloped
+toward the count.
+
+The count and Simon galloped out of the wood and saw on their left a
+wolf which, softly swaying from side to side, was coming at a quiet lope
+farther to the left to the very place where they were standing. The
+angry borzois whined and getting free of the leash rushed past the
+horses' feet at the wolf.
+
+The wolf paused, turned its heavy forehead toward the dogs awkwardly,
+like a man suffering from the quinsy, and, still slightly swaying from
+side to side, gave a couple of leaps and with a swish of its tail
+disappeared into the skirt of the wood. At the same instant, with a cry
+like a wail, first one hound, then another, and then another, sprang
+helter-skelter from the wood opposite and the whole pack rushed across
+the field toward the very spot where the wolf had disappeared. The hazel
+bushes parted behind the hounds and Daniel's chestnut horse appeared,
+dark with sweat. On its long back sat Daniel, hunched forward, capless,
+his disheveled gray hair hanging over his flushed, perspiring face.
+
+"Ulyulyulyu! ulyulyu!..." he cried. When he caught sight of the count
+his eyes flashed lightning.
+
+"Blast you!" he shouted, holding up his whip threateningly at the count.
+
+"You've let the wolf go!... What sportsmen!" and as if scorning to say
+more to the frightened and shamefaced count, he lashed the heaving
+flanks of his sweating chestnut gelding with all the anger the count had
+aroused and flew off after the hounds. The count, like a punished
+schoolboy, looked round, trying by a smile to win Simon's sympathy for
+his plight. But Simon was no longer there. He was galloping round by the
+bushes while the field was coming up on both sides, all trying to head
+the wolf, but it vanished into the wood before they could do so.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+Nicholas Rostov meanwhile remained at his post, waiting for the wolf. By
+the way the hunt approached and receded, by the cries of the dogs whose
+notes were familiar to him, by the way the voices of the huntsmen
+approached, receded, and rose, he realized what was happening at the
+copse. He knew that young and old wolves were there, that the hounds had
+separated into two packs, that somewhere a wolf was being chased, and
+that something had gone wrong. He expected the wolf to come his way any
+moment. He made thousands of different conjectures as to where and from
+what side the beast would come and how he would set upon it. Hope
+alternated with despair. Several times he addressed a prayer to God that
+the wolf should come his way. He prayed with that passionate and
+shamefaced feeling with which men pray at moments of great excitement
+arising from trivial causes. "What would it be to Thee to do this for
+me?" he said to God. "I know Thou art great, and that it is a sin to ask
+this of Thee, but for God's sake do let the old wolf come my way and let
+Karay spring at it--in sight of 'Uncle' who is watching from over there-
+-and seize it by the throat in a death grip!" A thousand times during
+that half-hour Rostov cast eager and restless glances over the edge of
+the wood, with the two scraggy oaks rising above the aspen undergrowth
+and the gully with its water-worn side and "Uncle's" cap just visible
+above the bush on his right.
+
+"No, I shan't have such luck," thought Rostov, "yet what wouldn't it be
+worth! It is not to be! Everywhere, at cards and in war, I am always
+unlucky." Memories of Austerlitz and of Dolokhov flashed rapidly and
+clearly through his mind. "Only once in my life to get an old wolf, I
+want only that!" thought he, straining eyes and ears and looking to the
+left and then to the right and listening to the slightest variation of
+note in the cries of the dogs.
+
+Again he looked to the right and saw something running toward him across
+the deserted field. "No, it can't be!" thought Rostov, taking a deep
+breath, as a man does at the coming of something long hoped for. The
+height of happiness was reached--and so simply, without warning, or
+noise, or display, that Rostov could not believe his eyes and remained
+in doubt for over a second. The wolf ran forward and jumped heavily over
+a gully that lay in her path. She was an old animal with a gray back and
+big reddish belly. She ran without hurry, evidently feeling sure that no
+one saw her. Rostov, holding his breath, looked round at the borzois.
+They stood or lay not seeing the wolf or understanding the situation.
+Old Karay had turned his head and was angrily searching for fleas,
+baring his yellow teeth and snapping at his hind legs.
+
+"Ulyulyulyu!" whispered Rostov, pouting his lips. The borzois jumped up,
+jerking the rings of the leashes and pricking their ears. Karay finished
+scratching his hindquarters and, cocking his ears, got up with quivering
+tail from which tufts of matted hair hung down.
+
+"Shall I loose them or not?" Nicholas asked himself as the wolf
+approached him coming from the copse. Suddenly the wolf's whole
+physiognomy changed: she shuddered, seeing what she had probably never
+seen before--human eyes fixed upon her--and turning her head a little
+toward Rostov, she paused.
+
+"Back or forward? Eh, no matter, forward..." the wolf seemed to say to
+herself, and she moved forward without again looking round and with a
+quiet, long, easy yet resolute lope.
+
+"Ulyulyu!" cried Nicholas, in a voice not his own, and of its own accord
+his good horse darted headlong downhill, leaping over gullies to head
+off the wolf, and the borzois passed it, running faster still. Nicholas
+did not hear his own cry nor feel that he was galloping, nor see the
+borzois, nor the ground over which he went: he saw only the wolf, who,
+increasing her speed, bounded on in the same direction along the hollow.
+The first to come into view was Milka, with her black markings and
+powerful quarters, gaining upon the wolf. Nearer and nearer... now she
+was ahead of it; but the wolf turned its head to face her, and instead
+of putting on speed as she usually did Milka suddenly raised her tail
+and stiffened her forelegs.
+
+"Ulyulyulyulyu!" shouted Nicholas.
+
+The reddish Lyubim rushed forward from behind Milka, sprang impetuously
+at the wolf, and seized it by its hindquarters, but immediately jumped
+aside in terror. The wolf crouched, gnashed her teeth, and again rose
+and bounded forward, followed at the distance of a couple of feet by all
+the borzois, who did not get any closer to her.
+
+"She'll get away! No, it's impossible!" thought Nicholas, still shouting
+with a hoarse voice.
+
+"Karay, ulyulyu!..." he shouted, looking round for the old borzoi who
+was now his only hope. Karay, with all the strength age had left him,
+stretched himself to the utmost and, watching the wolf, galloped heavily
+aside to intercept it. But the quickness of the wolf's lope and the
+borzoi's slower pace made it plain that Karay had miscalculated.
+Nicholas could already see not far in front of him the wood where the
+wolf would certainly escape should she reach it. But, coming toward him,
+he saw hounds and a huntsman galloping almost straight at the wolf.
+There was still hope. A long, yellowish young borzoi, one Nicholas did
+not know, from another leash, rushed impetuously at the wolf from in
+front and almost knocked her over. But the wolf jumped up more quickly
+than anyone could have expected and, gnashing her teeth, flew at the
+yellowish borzoi, which, with a piercing yelp, fell with its head on the
+ground, bleeding from a gash in its side.
+
+"Karay? Old fellow!..." wailed Nicholas.
+
+Thanks to the delay caused by this crossing of the wolf's path, the old
+dog with its felted hair hanging from its thigh was within five paces of
+it. As if aware of her danger, the wolf turned her eyes on Karay, tucked
+her tail yet further between her legs, and increased her speed. But here
+Nicholas only saw that something happened to Karay--the borzoi was
+suddenly on the wolf, and they rolled together down into a gully just in
+front of them.
+
+That instant, when Nicholas saw the wolf struggling in the gully with
+the dogs, while from under them could be seen her gray hair and
+outstretched hind leg and her frightened choking head, with her ears
+laid back (Karay was pinning her by the throat), was the happiest moment
+of his life. With his hand on his saddlebow, he was ready to dismount
+and stab the wolf, when she suddenly thrust her head up from among that
+mass of dogs, and then her forepaws were on the edge of the gully. She
+clicked her teeth (Karay no longer had her by the throat), leaped with a
+movement of her hind legs out of the gully, and having disengaged
+herself from the dogs, with tail tucked in again, went forward. Karay,
+his hair bristling, and probably bruised or wounded, climbed with
+difficulty out of the gully.
+
+"Oh my God! Why?" Nicholas cried in despair.
+
+"Uncle's" huntsman was galloping from the other side across the wolf's
+path and his borzois once more stopped the animal's advance. She was
+again hemmed in.
+
+Nicholas and his attendant, with "Uncle" and his huntsman, were all
+riding round the wolf, crying "ulyulyu!" shouting and preparing to
+dismount each moment that the wolf crouched back, and starting forward
+again every time she shook herself and moved toward the wood where she
+would be safe.
+
+Already, at the beginning of this chase, Daniel, hearing the ulyulyuing,
+had rushed out from the wood. He saw Karay seize the wolf, and checked
+his horse, supposing the affair to be over. But when he saw that the
+horsemen did not dismount and that the wolf shook herself and ran for
+safety, Daniel set his chestnut galloping, not at the wolf but straight
+toward the wood, just as Karay had run to cut the animal off. As a
+result of this, he galloped up to the wolf just when she had been
+stopped a second time by "Uncle's" borzois.
+
+Daniel galloped up silently, holding a naked dagger in his left hand and
+thrashing the laboring sides of his chestnut horse with his whip as if
+it were a flail.
+
+Nicholas neither saw nor heard Daniel until the chestnut, breathing
+heavily, panted past him, and he heard the fall of a body and saw Daniel
+lying on the wolf's back among the dogs, trying to seize her by the
+ears. It was evident to the dogs, the hunters, and to the wolf herself
+that all was now over. The terrified wolf pressed back her ears and
+tried to rise, but the borzois stuck to her. Daniel rose a little, took
+a step, and with his whole weight, as if lying down to rest, fell on the
+wolf, seizing her by the ears. Nicholas was about to stab her, but
+Daniel whispered, "Don't! We'll gag her!" and, changing his position,
+set his foot on the wolf's neck. A stick was thrust between her jaws and
+she was fastened with a leash, as if bridled, her legs were bound
+together, and Daniel rolled her over once or twice from side to side.
+
+With happy, exhausted faces, they laid the old wolf, alive, on a shying
+and snorting horse and, accompanied by the dogs yelping at her, took her
+to the place where they were all to meet. The hounds had killed two of
+the cubs and the borzois three. The huntsmen assembled with their booty
+and their stories, and all came to look at the wolf, which, with her
+broad-browed head hanging down and the bitten stick between her jaws,
+gazed with great glassy eyes at this crowd of dogs and men surrounding
+her. When she was touched, she jerked her bound legs and looked wildly
+yet simply at everybody. Old Count Rostov also rode up and touched the
+wolf.
+
+"Oh, what a formidable one!" said he. "A formidable one, eh?" he asked
+Daniel, who was standing near.
+
+"Yes, your excellency," answered Daniel, quickly doffing his cap.
+
+The count remembered the wolf he had let slip and his encounter with
+Daniel.
+
+"Ah, but you are a crusty fellow, friend!" said the count.
+
+For sole reply Daniel gave him a shy, childlike, meek, and amiable
+smile.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+The old count went home, and Natasha and Petya promised to return very
+soon, but as it was still early the hunt went farther. At midday they
+put the hounds into a ravine thickly overgrown with young trees.
+Nicholas standing in a fallow field could see all his whips.
+
+Facing him lay a field of winter rye, there his own huntsman stood alone
+in a hollow behind a hazel bush. The hounds had scarcely been loosed
+before Nicholas heard one he knew, Voltorn, giving tongue at intervals;
+other hounds joined in, now pausing and now again giving tongue. A
+moment later he heard a cry from the wooded ravine that a fox had been
+found, and the whole pack, joining together, rushed along the ravine
+toward the ryefield and away from Nicholas.
+
+He saw the whips in their red caps galloping along the edge of the
+ravine, he even saw the hounds, and was expecting a fox to show itself
+at any moment on the ryefield opposite.
+
+The huntsman standing in the hollow moved and loosed his borzois, and
+Nicholas saw a queer, short-legged red fox with a fine brush going hard
+across the field. The borzois bore down on it.... Now they drew close to
+the fox which began to dodge between the field in sharper and sharper
+curves, trailing its brush, when suddenly a strange white borzoi dashed
+in followed by a black one, and everything was in confusion; the borzois
+formed a star-shaped figure, scarcely swaying their bodies and with
+tails turned away from the center of the group. Two huntsmen galloped up
+to the dogs; one in a red cap, the other, a stranger, in a green coat.
+
+"What's this?" thought Nicholas. "Where's that huntsman from? He is not
+'Uncle's' man."
+
+The huntsmen got the fox, but stayed there a long time without strapping
+it to the saddle. Their horses, bridled and with high saddles, stood
+near them and there too the dogs were lying. The huntsmen waved their
+arms and did something to the fox. Then from that spot came the sound of
+a horn, with the signal agreed on in case of a fight.
+
+"That's Ilagin's huntsman having a row with our Ivan," said Nicholas'
+groom.
+
+Nicholas sent the man to call Natasha and Petya to him, and rode at a
+footpace to the place where the whips were getting the hounds together.
+Several of the field galloped to the spot where the fight was going on.
+
+Nicholas dismounted, and with Natasha and Petya, who had ridden up,
+stopped near the hounds, waiting to see how the matter would end. Out of
+the bushes came the huntsman who had been fighting and rode toward his
+young master, with the fox tied to his crupper. While still at a
+distance he took off his cap and tried to speak respectfully, but he was
+pale and breathless and his face was angry. One of his eyes was black,
+but he probably was not even aware of it.
+
+"What has happened?" asked Nicholas.
+
+"A likely thing, killing a fox our dogs had hunted! And it was my gray
+bitch that caught it! Go to law, indeed!... He snatches at the fox! I
+gave him one with the fox. Here it is on my saddle! Do you want a taste
+of this?..." said the huntsman, pointing to his dagger and probably
+imagining himself still speaking to his foe.
+
+Nicholas, not stopping to talk to the man, asked his sister and Petya to
+wait for him and rode to the spot where the enemy's, Ilagin's, hunting
+party was.
+
+The victorious huntsman rode off to join the field, and there,
+surrounded by inquiring sympathizers, recounted his exploits.
+
+The facts were that Ilagin, with whom the Rostovs had a quarrel and were
+at law, hunted over places that belonged by custom to the Rostovs, and
+had now, as if purposely, sent his men to the very woods the Rostovs
+were hunting and let his man snatch a fox their dogs had chased.
+
+Nicholas, though he had never seen Ilagin, with his usual absence of
+moderation in judgment, hated him cordially from reports of his
+arbitrariness and violence, and regarded him as his bitterest foe. He
+rode in angry agitation toward him, firmly grasping his whip and fully
+prepared to take the most resolute and desperate steps to punish his
+enemy.
+
+Hardly had he passed an angle of the wood before a stout gentleman in a
+beaver cap came riding toward him on a handsome raven-black horse,
+accompanied by two hunt servants.
+
+Instead of an enemy, Nicholas found in Ilagin a stately and courteous
+gentleman who was particularly anxious to make the young count's
+acquaintance. Having ridden up to Nicholas, Ilagin raised his beaver cap
+and said he much regretted what had occurred and would have the man
+punished who had allowed himself to seize a fox hunted by someone else's
+borzois. He hoped to become better acquainted with the count and invited
+him to draw his covert.
+
+Natasha, afraid that her brother would do something dreadful, had
+followed him in some excitement. Seeing the enemies exchanging friendly
+greetings, she rode up to them. Ilagin lifted his beaver cap still
+higher to Natasha and said, with a pleasant smile, that the young
+countess resembled Diana in her passion for the chase as well as in her
+beauty, of which he had heard much.
+
+To expiate his huntsman's offense, Ilagin pressed the Rostovs to come to
+an upland of his about a mile away which he usually kept for himself and
+which, he said, swarmed with hares. Nicholas agreed, and the hunt, now
+doubled, moved on.
+
+The way to Iligin's upland was across the fields. The hunt servants fell
+into line. The masters rode together. "Uncle," Rostov, and Ilagin kept
+stealthily glancing at one another's dogs, trying not to be observed by
+their companions and searching uneasily for rivals to their own borzois.
+
+Rostov was particularly struck by the beauty of a small, pure-bred, red-
+spotted bitch on Ilagin's leash, slender but with muscles like steel, a
+delicate muzzle, and prominent black eyes. He had heard of the swiftness
+of Ilagin's borzois, and in that beautiful bitch saw a rival to his own
+Milka.
+
+In the middle of a sober conversation begun by Ilagin about the year's
+harvest, Nicholas pointed to the red-spotted bitch.
+
+"A fine little bitch, that!" said he in a careless tone. "Is she swift?"
+
+"That one? Yes, she's a good dog, gets what she's after," answered
+Ilagin indifferently, of the red-spotted bitch Erza, for which, a year
+before, he had given a neighbor three families of house serfs. "So in
+your parts, too, the harvest is nothing to boast of, Count?" he went on,
+continuing the conversation they had begun. And considering it polite to
+return the young count's compliment, Ilagin looked at his borzois and
+picked out Milka who attracted his attention by her breadth. "That
+black-spotted one of yours is fine--well shaped!" said he.
+
+"Yes, she's fast enough," replied Nicholas, and thought: "If only a
+full-grown hare would cross the field now I'd show you what sort of
+borzoi she is," and turning to his groom, he said he would give a ruble
+to anyone who found a hare.
+
+"I don't understand," continued Ilagin, "how some sportsmen can be so
+jealous about game and dogs. For myself, I can tell you, Count, I enjoy
+riding in company such as this... what could be better?" (he again
+raised his cap to Natasha) "but as for counting skins and what one
+takes, I don't care about that."
+
+"Of course not!"
+
+"Or being upset because someone else's borzoi and not mine catches
+something. All I care about is to enjoy seeing the chase, is it not so,
+Count? For I consider that..."
+
+"A-tu!" came the long-drawn cry of one of the borzoi whippers-in, who
+had halted. He stood on a knoll in the stubble, holding his whip aloft,
+and again repeated his long-drawn cry, "A-tu!" (This call and the
+uplifted whip meant that he saw a sitting hare.)
+
+"Ah, he has found one, I think," said Ilagin carelessly. "Yes, we must
+ride up.... Shall we both course it?" answered Nicholas, seeing in Erza
+and "Uncle's" red Rugay two rivals he had never yet had a chance of
+pitting against his own borzois. "And suppose they outdo my Milka at
+once!" he thought as he rode with "Uncle" and Ilagin toward the hare.
+
+"A full-grown one?" asked Ilagin as he approached the whip who had
+sighted the hare--and not without agitation he looked round and whistled
+to Erza.
+
+"And you, Michael Nikanorovich?" he said, addressing "Uncle."
+
+The latter was riding with a sullen expression on his face.
+
+"How can I join in? Why, you've given a village for each of your
+borzois! That's it, come on! Yours are worth thousands. Try yours
+against one another, you two, and I'll look on!"
+
+"Rugay, hey, hey!" he shouted. "Rugayushka!" he added, involuntarily by
+this diminutive expressing his affection and the hopes he placed on this
+red borzoi. Natasha saw and felt the agitation the two elderly men and
+her brother were trying to conceal, and was herself excited by it.
+
+The huntsman stood halfway up the knoll holding up his whip and the
+gentlefolk rode up to him at a footpace; the hounds that were far off on
+the horizon turned away from the hare, and the whips, but not the
+gentlefolk, also moved away. All were moving slowly and sedately.
+
+"How is it pointing?" asked Nicholas, riding a hundred paces toward the
+whip who had sighted the hare.
+
+But before the whip could reply, the hare, scenting the frost coming
+next morning, was unable to rest and leaped up. The pack on leash rushed
+downhill in full cry after the hare, and from all sides the borzois that
+were not on leash darted after the hounds and the hare. All the hunt,
+who had been moving slowly, shouted, "Stop!" calling in the hounds,
+while the borzoi whips, with a cry of "A-tu!" galloped across the field
+setting the borzois on the hare. The tranquil Ilagin, Nicholas, Natasha,
+and "Uncle" flew, reckless of where and how they went, seeing only the
+borzois and the hare and fearing only to lose sight even for an instant
+of the chase. The hare they had started was a strong and swift one. When
+he jumped up he did not run at once, but pricked his ears listening to
+the shouting and trampling that resounded from all sides at once. He
+took a dozen bounds, not very quickly, letting the borzois gain on him,
+and, finally having chosen his direction and realized his danger, laid
+back his ears and rushed off headlong. He had been lying in the stubble,
+but in front of him was the autumn sowing where the ground was soft. The
+two borzois of the huntsman who had sighted him, having been the
+nearest, were the first to see and pursue him, but they had not gone far
+before Ilagin's red-spotted Erza passed them, got within a length, flew
+at the hare with terrible swiftness aiming at his scut, and, thinking
+she had seized him, rolled over like a ball. The hare arched his back
+and bounded off yet more swiftly. From behind Erza rushed the broad-
+haunched, black-spotted Milka and began rapidly gaining on the hare.
+
+"Milashka, dear!" rose Nicholas' triumphant cry. It looked as if Milka
+would immediately pounce on the hare, but she overtook him and flew
+past. The hare had squatted. Again the beautiful Erza reached him, but
+when close to the hare's scut paused as if measuring the distance, so as
+not to make a mistake this time but seize his hind leg.
+
+"Erza, darling!" Ilagin wailed in a voice unlike his own. Erza did not
+hearken to his appeal. At the very moment when she would have seized her
+prey, the hare moved and darted along the balk between the winter rye
+and the stubble. Again Erza and Milka were abreast, running like a pair
+of carriage horses, and began to overtake the hare, but it was easier
+for the hare to run on the balk and the borzois did not overtake him so
+quickly.
+
+"Rugay, Rugayushka! That's it, come on!" came a third voice just then,
+and "Uncle's" red borzoi, straining and curving its back, caught up with
+the two foremost borzois, pushed ahead of them regardless of the
+terrible strain, put on speed close to the hare, knocked it off the balk
+onto the ryefield, again put on speed still more viciously, sinking to
+his knees in the muddy field, and all one could see was how, muddying
+his back, he rolled over with the hare. A ring of borzois surrounded
+him. A moment later everyone had drawn up round the crowd of dogs. Only
+the delighted "Uncle" dismounted, and cut off a pad, shaking the hare
+for the blood to drip off, and anxiously glancing round with restless
+eyes while his arms and legs twitched. He spoke without himself knowing
+whom to or what about. "That's it, come on! That's a dog!... There, it
+has beaten them all, the thousand-ruble as well as the one-ruble
+borzois. That's it, come on!" said he, panting and looking wrathfully
+around as if he were abusing someone, as if they were all his enemies
+and had insulted him, and only now had he at last succeeded in
+justifying himself. "There are your thousand-ruble ones.... That's it,
+come on!..."
+
+"Rugay, here's a pad for you!" he said, throwing down the hare's muddy
+pad. "You've deserved it, that's it, come on!"
+
+"She'd tired herself out, she'd run it down three times by herself,"
+said Nicholas, also not listening to anyone and regardless of whether he
+were heard or not.
+
+"But what is there in running across it like that?" said Ilagin's groom.
+
+"Once she had missed it and turned it away, any mongrel could take it,"
+Ilagin was saying at the same time, breathless from his gallop and his
+excitement. At the same moment Natasha, without drawing breath, screamed
+joyously, ecstatically, and so piercingly that it set everyone's ear
+tingling. By that shriek she expressed what the others expressed by all
+talking at once, and it was so strange that she must herself have been
+ashamed of so wild a cry and everyone else would have been amazed at it
+at any other time. "Uncle" himself twisted up the hare, threw it neatly
+and smartly across his horse's back as if by that gesture he meant to
+rebuke everybody, and, with an air of not wishing to speak to anyone,
+mounted his bay and rode off. The others all followed, dispirited and
+shamefaced, and only much later were they able to regain their former
+affectation of indifference. For a long time they continued to look at
+red Rugay who, his arched back spattered with mud and clanking the ring
+of his leash, walked along just behind "Uncle's" horse with the serene
+air of a conqueror.
+
+"Well, I am like any other dog as long as it's not a question of
+coursing. But when it is, then look out!" his appearance seemed to
+Nicholas to be saying.
+
+When, much later, "Uncle" rode up to Nicholas and began talking to him,
+he felt flattered that, after what had happened, "Uncle" deigned to
+speak to him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+Toward evening Ilagin took leave of Nicholas, who found that they were
+so far from home that he accepted "Uncle's" offer that the hunting party
+should spend the night in his little village of Mikhaylovna.
+
+"And if you put up at my house that will be better still. That's it,
+come on!" said "Uncle." "You see it's damp weather, and you could rest,
+and the little countess could be driven home in a trap."
+
+"Uncle's" offer was accepted. A huntsman was sent to Otradnoe for a
+trap, while Nicholas rode with Natasha and Petya to "Uncle's" house.
+
+Some five male domestic serfs, big and little, rushed out to the front
+porch to meet their master. A score of women serfs, old and young, as
+well as children, popped out from the back entrance to have a look at
+the hunters who were arriving. The presence of Natasha--a woman, a lady,
+and on horseback--raised the curiosity of the serfs to such a degree
+that many of them came up to her, stared her in the face, and unabashed
+by her presence made remarks about her as though she were some prodigy
+on show and not a human being able to hear or understand what was said
+about her.
+
+"Arinka! Look, she sits sideways! There she sits and her skirt
+dangles.... See, she's got a little hunting horn!"
+
+"Goodness gracious! See her knife?..."
+
+"Isn't she a Tartar!"
+
+"How is it you didn't go head over heels?" asked the boldest of all,
+addressing Natasha directly.
+
+"Uncle" dismounted at the porch of his little wooden house which stood
+in the midst of an overgrown garden and, after a glance at his
+retainers, shouted authoritatively that the superfluous ones should take
+themselves off and that all necessary preparations should be made to
+receive the guests and the visitors.
+
+The serfs all dispersed. "Uncle" lifted Natasha off her horse and taking
+her hand led her up the rickety wooden steps of the porch. The house,
+with its bare, unplastered log walls, was not overclean--it did not seem
+that those living in it aimed at keeping it spotless--but neither was it
+noticeably neglected. In the entry there was a smell of fresh apples,
+and wolf and fox skins hung about.
+
+"Uncle" led the visitors through the anteroom into a small hall with a
+folding table and red chairs, then into the drawing room with a round
+birchwood table and a sofa, and finally into his private room where
+there was a tattered sofa, a worn carpet, and portraits of Suvorov, of
+the host's father and mother, and of himself in military uniform. The
+study smelt strongly of tobacco and dogs. "Uncle" asked his visitors to
+sit down and make themselves at home, and then went out of the room.
+Rugay, his back still muddy, came into the room and lay down on the
+sofa, cleaning himself with his tongue and teeth. Leading from the study
+was a passage in which a partition with ragged curtains could be seen.
+From behind this came women's laughter and whispers. Natasha, Nicholas,
+and Petya took off their wraps and sat down on the sofa. Petya, leaning
+on his elbow, fell asleep at once. Natasha and Nicholas were silent.
+Their faces glowed, they were hungry and very cheerful. They looked at
+one another (now that the hunt was over and they were in the house,
+Nicholas no longer considered it necessary to show his manly superiority
+over his sister), Natasha gave him a wink, and neither refrained long
+from bursting into a peal of ringing laughter even before they had a
+pretext ready to account for it.
+
+After a while "Uncle" came in, in a Cossack coat, blue trousers, and
+small top boots. And Natasha felt that this costume, the very one she
+had regarded with surprise and amusement at Otradnoe, was just the right
+thing and not at all worse than a swallow-tail or frock coat. "Uncle"
+too was in high spirits and far from being offended by the brother's and
+sister's laughter (it could never enter his head that they might be
+laughing at his way of life) he himself joined in the merriment.
+
+"That's right, young countess, that's it, come on! I never saw anyone
+like her!" said he, offering Nicholas a pipe with a long stem and, with
+a practiced motion of three fingers, taking down another that had been
+cut short. "She's ridden all day like a man, and is as fresh as ever!"
+
+Soon after "Uncle's" reappearance the door was opened, evidently from
+the sound by a barefooted girl, and a stout, rosy, good-looking woman of
+about forty, with a double chin and full red lips, entered carrying a
+large loaded tray. With hospitable dignity and cordiality in her glance
+and in every motion, she looked at the visitors and, with a pleasant
+smile, bowed respectfully. In spite of her exceptional stoutness, which
+caused her to protrude her chest and stomach and throw back her head,
+this woman (who was "Uncle's" housekeeper) trod very lightly. She went
+to the table, set down the tray, and with her plump white hands deftly
+took from it the bottles and various hors d'oeuvres and dishes and
+arranged them on the table. When she had finished, she stepped aside and
+stopped at the door with a smile on her face. "Here I am. I am she! Now
+do you understand 'Uncle'?" her expression said to Rostov. How could one
+help understanding? Not only Nicholas, but even Natasha understood the
+meaning of his puckered brow and the happy complacent smile that
+slightly puckered his lips when Anisya Fedorovna entered. On the tray
+was a bottle of herb wine, different kinds of vodka, pickled mushrooms,
+rye cakes made with buttermilk, honey in the comb, still mead and
+sparkling mead, apples, nuts (raw and roasted), and nut-and-honey
+sweets. Afterwards she brought a freshly roasted chicken, ham, preserves
+made with honey, and preserves made with sugar.
+
+All this was the fruit of Anisya Fedorovna's housekeeping, gathered and
+prepared by her. The smell and taste of it all had a smack of Anisya
+Fedorovna herself: a savor of juiciness, cleanliness, whiteness, and
+pleasant smiles.
+
+"Take this, little Lady-Countess!" she kept saying, as she offered
+Natasha first one thing and then another.
+
+Natasha ate of everything and thought she had never seen or eaten such
+buttermilk cakes, such aromatic jam, such honey-and-nut sweets, or such
+a chicken anywhere. Anisya Fedorovna left the room.
+
+After supper, over their cherry brandy, Rostov and "Uncle" talked of
+past and future hunts, of Rugay and Ilagin's dogs, while Natasha sat
+upright on the sofa and listened with sparkling eyes. She tried several
+times to wake Petya that he might eat something, but he only muttered
+incoherent words without waking up. Natasha felt so lighthearted and
+happy in these novel surroundings that she only feared the trap would
+come for her too soon. After a casual pause, such as often occurs when
+receiving friends for the first time in one's own house, "Uncle,"
+answering a thought that was in his visitors' minds, said:
+
+"This, you see, is how I am finishing my days... Death will come. That's
+it, come on! Nothing will remain. Then why harm anyone?"
+
+"Uncle's" face was very significant and even handsome as he said this.
+Involuntarily Rostov recalled all the good he had heard about him from
+his father and the neighbors. Throughout the whole province "Uncle" had
+the reputation of being the most honorable and disinterested of cranks.
+They called him in to decide family disputes, chose him as executor,
+confided secrets to him, elected him to be a justice and to other posts;
+but he always persistently refused public appointments, passing the
+autumn and spring in the fields on his bay gelding, sitting at home in
+winter, and lying in his overgrown garden in summer.
+
+"Why don't you enter the service, Uncle?"
+
+"I did once, but gave it up. I am not fit for it. That's it, come on! I
+can't make head or tail of it. That's for you--I haven't brains enough.
+Now, hunting is another matter--that's it, come on! Open the door,
+there!" he shouted. "Why have you shut it?"
+
+The door at the end of the passage led to the huntsmen's room, as they
+called the room for the hunt servants.
+
+There was a rapid patter of bare feet, and an unseen hand opened the
+door into the huntsmen's room, from which came the clear sounds of a
+balalayka on which someone, who was evidently a master of the art, was
+playing. Natasha had been listening to those strains for some time and
+now went out into the passage to hear better.
+
+"That's Mitka, my coachman.... I have got him a good balalayka. I'm fond
+of it," said "Uncle."
+
+It was the custom for Mitka to play the balalayka in the huntsmen's room
+when "Uncle" returned from the chase. "Uncle" was fond of such music.
+
+"How good! Really very good!" said Nicholas with some unintentional
+superciliousness, as if ashamed to confess that the sounds pleased him
+very much.
+
+"Very good?" said Natasha reproachfully, noticing her brother's tone.
+"Not 'very good' it's simply delicious!"
+
+Just as "Uncle's" pickled mushrooms, honey, and cherry brandy had seemed
+to her the best in the world, so also that song, at that moment, seemed
+to her the acme of musical delight.
+
+"More, please, more!" cried Natasha at the door as soon as the balalayka
+ceased. Mitka tuned up afresh, and recommenced thrumming the balalayka
+to the air of My Lady, with trills and variations. "Uncle" sat
+listening, slightly smiling, with his head on one side. The air was
+repeated a hundred times. The balalayka was retuned several times and
+the same notes were thrummed again, but the listeners did not grow weary
+of it and wished to hear it again and again. Anisya Fedorovna came in
+and leaned her portly person against the doorpost.
+
+"You like listening?" she said to Natasha, with a smile extremely like
+"Uncle's." "That's a good player of ours," she added.
+
+"He doesn't play that part right!" said "Uncle" suddenly, with an
+energetic gesture. "Here he ought to burst out--that's it, come on!--
+ought to burst out."
+
+"Do you play then?" asked Natasha.
+
+"Uncle" did not answer, but smiled.
+
+"Anisya, go and see if the strings of my guitar are all right. I haven't
+touched it for a long time. That's it--come on! I've given it up."
+
+Anisya Fedorovna, with her light step, willingly went to fulfill her
+errand and brought back the guitar.
+
+Without looking at anyone, "Uncle" blew the dust off it and, tapping the
+case with his bony fingers, tuned the guitar and settled himself in his
+armchair. He took the guitar a little above the fingerboard, arching his
+left elbow with a somewhat theatrical gesture, and, with a wink at
+Anisya Fedorovna, struck a single chord, pure and sonorous, and then
+quietly, smoothly, and confidently began playing in very slow time, not
+My Lady, but the well-known song: Came a maiden down the street. The
+tune, played with precision and in exact time, began to thrill in the
+hearts of Nicholas and Natasha, arousing in them the same kind of sober
+mirth as radiated from Anisya Fedorovna's whole being. Anisya Fedorovna
+flushed, and drawing her kerchief over her face went laughing out of the
+room. "Uncle" continued to play correctly, carefully, with energetic
+firmness, looking with a changed and inspired expression at the spot
+where Anisya Fedorovna had just stood. Something seemed to be laughing a
+little on one side of his face under his gray mustaches, especially as
+the song grew brisker and the time quicker and when, here and there, as
+he ran his fingers over the strings, something seemed to snap.
+
+"Lovely, lovely! Go on, Uncle, go on!" shouted Natasha as soon as he had
+finished. She jumped up and hugged and kissed him. "Nicholas, Nicholas!"
+she said, turning to her brother, as if asking him: "What is it moves me
+so?"
+
+Nicholas too was greatly pleased by "Uncle's" playing, and "Uncle"
+played the piece over again. Anisya Fedorovna's smiling face reappeared
+in the doorway and behind hers other faces...
+
+
+Fetching water clear and sweet, Stop, dear maiden, I entreat--
+
+played "Uncle" once more, running his fingers skillfully over the
+strings, and then he stopped short and jerked his shoulders.
+
+"Go on, Uncle dear," Natasha wailed in an imploring tone as if her life
+depended on it.
+
+"Uncle" rose, and it was as if there were two men in him: one of them
+smiled seriously at the merry fellow, while the merry fellow struck a
+naive and precise attitude preparatory to a folk dance.
+
+"Now then, niece!" he exclaimed, waving to Natasha the hand that had
+just struck a chord.
+
+Natasha threw off the shawl from her shoulders, ran forward to face
+"Uncle," and setting her arms akimbo also made a motion with her
+shoulders and struck an attitude.
+
+Where, how, and when had this young countess, educated by an emigree
+French governess, imbibed from the Russian air she breathed that spirit
+and obtained that manner which the pas de chale * would, one would have
+supposed, long ago have effaced? But the spirit and the movements were
+those inimitable and unteachable Russian ones that "Uncle" had expected
+of her. As soon as she had struck her pose, and smiled triumphantly,
+proudly, and with sly merriment, the fear that had at first seized
+Nicholas and the others that she might not do the right thing was at an
+end, and they were already admiring her.
+
+
+* The French shawl dance.
+
+She did the right thing with such precision, such complete precision,
+that Anisya Fedorovna, who had at once handed her the handkerchief she
+needed for the dance, had tears in her eyes, though she laughed as she
+watched this slim, graceful countess, reared in silks and velvets and so
+different from herself, who yet was able to understand all that was in
+Anisya and in Anisya's father and mother and aunt, and in every Russian
+man and woman.
+
+"Well, little countess; that's it--come on!" cried "Uncle," with a
+joyous laugh, having finished the dance. "Well done, niece! Now a fine
+young fellow must be found as husband for you. That's it--come on!"
+
+"He's chosen already," said Nicholas smiling.
+
+"Oh?" said "Uncle" in surprise, looking inquiringly at Natasha, who
+nodded her head with a happy smile.
+
+"And such a one!" she said. But as soon as she had said it a new train
+of thoughts and feelings arose in her. "What did Nicholas' smile mean
+when he said 'chosen already'? Is he glad of it or not? It is as if he
+thought my Bolkonski would not approve of or understand our gaiety. But
+he would understand it all. Where is he now?" she thought, and her face
+suddenly became serious. But this lasted only a second. "Don't dare to
+think about it," she said to herself, and sat down again smilingly
+beside "Uncle," begging him to play something more.
+
+"Uncle" played another song and a valse; then after a pause he cleared
+his throat and sang his favorite hunting song:
+
+
+As 'twas growing dark last night Fell the snow so soft and light...
+
+"Uncle" sang as peasants sing, with full and naive conviction that the
+whole meaning of a song lies in the words and that the tune comes of
+itself, and that apart from the words there is no tune, which exists
+only to give measure to the words. As a result of this the unconsidered
+tune, like the song of a bird, was extraordinarily good. Natasha was in
+ecstasies over "Uncle's" singing. She resolved to give up learning the
+harp and to play only the guitar. She asked "Uncle" for his guitar and
+at once found the chords of the song.
+
+After nine o'clock two traps and three mounted men, who had been sent to
+look for them, arrived to fetch Natasha and Petya. The count and
+countess did not know where they were and were very anxious, said one of
+the men.
+
+Petya was carried out like a log and laid in the larger of the two
+traps. Natasha and Nicholas got into the other. "Uncle" wrapped Natasha
+up warmly and took leave of her with quite a new tenderness. He
+accompanied them on foot as far as the bridge that could not be crossed,
+so that they had to go round by the ford, and he sent huntsmen to ride
+in front with lanterns.
+
+"Good-bye, dear niece," his voice called out of the darkness--not the
+voice Natasha had known previously, but the one that had sung As 'twas
+growing dark last night.
+
+In the village through which they passed there were red lights and a
+cheerful smell of smoke.
+
+"What a darling Uncle is!" said Natasha, when they had come out onto the
+highroad.
+
+"Yes," returned Nicholas. "You're not cold?"
+
+"No. I'm quite, quite all right. I feel so comfortable!" answered
+Natasha, almost perplexed by her feelings. They remained silent a long
+while. The night was dark and damp. They could not see the horses, but
+only heard them splashing through the unseen mud.
+
+What was passing in that receptive childlike soul that so eagerly caught
+and assimilated all the diverse impressions of life? How did they all
+find place in her? But she was very happy. As they were nearing home she
+suddenly struck up the air of As 'twas growing dark last night--the tune
+of which she had all the way been trying to get and had at last caught.
+
+"Got it?" said Nicholas.
+
+"What were you thinking about just now, Nicholas?" inquired Natasha.
+
+They were fond of asking one another that question.
+
+"I?" said Nicholas, trying to remember. "Well, you see, first I thought
+that Rugay, the red hound, was like Uncle, and that if he were a man he
+would always keep Uncle near him, if not for his riding, then for his
+manner. What a good fellow Uncle is! Don't you think so?... Well, and
+you?"
+
+"I? Wait a bit, wait.... Yes, first I thought that we are driving along
+and imagining that we are going home, but that heaven knows where we are
+really going in the darkness, and that we shall arrive and suddenly find
+that we are not in Otradnoe, but in Fairyland. And then I thought... No,
+nothing else."
+
+"I know, I expect you thought of him," said Nicholas, smiling as Natasha
+knew by the sound of his voice.
+
+"No," said Natasha, though she had in reality been thinking about Prince
+Andrew at the same time as of the rest, and of how he would have liked
+"Uncle." "And then I was saying to myself all the way, 'How well Anisya
+carried herself, how well!'" And Nicholas heard her spontaneous, happy,
+ringing laughter. "And do you know," she suddenly said, "I know that I
+shall never again be as happy and tranquil as I am now."
+
+"Rubbish, nonsense, humbug!" exclaimed Nicholas, and he thought: "How
+charming this Natasha of mine is! I have no other friend like her and
+never shall have. Why should she marry? We might always drive about
+together!"
+
+"What a darling this Nicholas of mine is!" thought Natasha.
+
+"Ah, there are still lights in the drawing-room!" she said, pointing to
+the windows of the house that gleamed invitingly in the moist velvety
+darkness of the night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+Count Ilya Rostov had resigned the position of Marshal of the Nobility
+because it involved him in too much expense, but still his affairs did
+not improve. Natasha and Nicholas often noticed their parents conferring
+together anxiously and privately and heard suggestions of selling the
+fine ancestral Rostov house and estate near Moscow. It was not necessary
+to entertain so freely as when the count had been Marshal, and life at
+Otradnoe was quieter than in former years, but still the enormous house
+and its lodges were full of people and more than twenty sat down to
+table every day. These were all their own people who had settled down in
+the house almost as members of the family, or persons who were, it
+seemed, obliged to live in the count's house. Such were Dimmler the
+musician and his wife, Vogel the dancing master and his family, Belova,
+an old maiden lady, an inmate of the house, and many others such as
+Petya's tutors, the girls' former governess, and other people who simply
+found it preferable and more advantageous to live in the count's house
+than at home. They had not as many visitors as before, but the old
+habits of life without which the count and countess could not conceive
+of existence remained unchanged. There was still the hunting
+establishment which Nicholas had even enlarged, the same fifty horses
+and fifteen grooms in the stables, the same expensive presents and
+dinner parties to the whole district on name days; there were still the
+count's games of whist and boston, at which--spreading out his cards so
+that everybody could see them--he let himself be plundered of hundreds
+of rubles every day by his neighbors, who looked upon an opportunity to
+play a rubber with Count Rostov as a most profitable source of income.
+
+The count moved in his affairs as in a huge net, trying not to believe
+that he was entangled but becoming more and more so at every step, and
+feeling too feeble to break the meshes or to set to work carefully and
+patiently to disentangle them. The countess, with her loving heart, felt
+that her children were being ruined, that it was not the count's fault
+for he could not help being what he was--that (though he tried to hide
+it) he himself suffered from the consciousness of his own and his
+children's ruin, and she tried to find means of remedying the position.
+From her feminine point of view she could see only one solution, namely,
+for Nicholas to marry a rich heiress. She felt this to be their last
+hope and that if Nicholas refused the match she had found for him, she
+would have to abandon the hope of ever getting matters right. This match
+was with Julie Karagina, the daughter of excellent and virtuous parents,
+a girl the Rostovs had known from childhood, and who had now become a
+wealthy heiress through the death of the last of her brothers.
+
+The countess had written direct to Julie's mother in Moscow suggesting a
+marriage between their children and had received a favorable answer from
+her. Karagina had replied that for her part she was agreeable, and
+everything depend on her daughter's inclination. She invited Nicholas to
+come to Moscow.
+
+Several times the countess, with tears in her eyes, told her son that
+now both her daughters were settled, her only wish was to see him
+married. She said she could lie down in her grave peacefully if that
+were accomplished. Then she told him that she knew of a splendid girl
+and tried to discover what he thought about marriage.
+
+At other times she praised Julie to him and advised him to go to Moscow
+during the holidays to amuse himself. Nicholas guessed what his mother's
+remarks were leading to and during one of these conversations induced
+her to speak quite frankly. She told him that her only hope of getting
+their affairs disentangled now lay in his marrying Julie Karagina.
+
+"But, Mamma, suppose I loved a girl who has no fortune, would you expect
+me to sacrifice my feelings and my honor for the sake of money?" he
+asked his mother, not realizing the cruelty of his question and only
+wishing to show his noble-mindedness.
+
+"No, you have not understood me," said his mother, not knowing how to
+justify herself. "You have not understood me, Nikolenka. It is your
+happiness I wish for," she added, feeling that she was telling an
+untruth and was becoming entangled. She began to cry.
+
+"Mamma, don't cry! Only tell me that you wish it, and you know I will
+give my life, anything, to put you at ease," said Nicholas. "I would
+sacrifice anything for you--even my feelings."
+
+But the countess did not want the question put like that: she did not
+want a sacrifice from her son, she herself wished to make a sacrifice
+for him.
+
+"No, you have not understood me, don't let us talk about it," she
+replied, wiping away her tears.
+
+"Maybe I do love a poor girl," said Nicholas to himself. "Am I to
+sacrifice my feelings and my honor for money? I wonder how Mamma could
+speak so to me. Because Sonya is poor I must not love her," he thought,
+"must not respond to her faithful, devoted love? Yet I should certainly
+be happier with her than with some doll-like Julie. I can always
+sacrifice my feelings for my family's welfare," he said to himself, "but
+I can't coerce my feelings. If I love Sonya, that feeling is for me
+stronger and higher than all else."
+
+Nicholas did not go to Moscow, and the countess did not renew the
+conversation with him about marriage. She saw with sorrow, and sometimes
+with exasperation, symptoms of a growing attachment between her son and
+the portionless Sonya. Though she blamed herself for it, she could not
+refrain from grumbling at and worrying Sonya, often pulling her up
+without reason, addressing her stiffly as "my dear," and using the
+formal "you" instead of the intimate "thou" in speaking to her. The
+kindhearted countess was the more vexed with Sonya because that poor,
+dark-eyed niece of hers was so meek, so kind, so devotedly grateful to
+her benefactors, and so faithfully, unchangingly, and unselfishly in
+love with Nicholas, that there were no grounds for finding fault with
+her.
+
+Nicholas was spending the last of his leave at home. A fourth letter had
+come from Prince Andrew, from Rome, in which he wrote that he would have
+been on his way back to Russia long ago had not his wound unexpectedly
+reopened in the warm climate, which obliged him to defer his return till
+the beginning of the new year. Natasha was still as much in love with
+her betrothed, found the same comfort in that love, and was still as
+ready to throw herself into all the pleasures of life as before; but at
+the end of the fourth month of their separation she began to have fits
+of depression which she could not master. She felt sorry for herself:
+sorry that she was being wasted all this time and of no use to anyone--
+while she felt herself so capable of loving and being loved.
+
+Things were not cheerful in the Rostovs' home.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+Christmas came and except for the ceremonial Mass, the solemn and
+wearisome Christmas congratulations from neighbors and servants, and the
+new dresses everyone put on, there were no special festivities, though
+the calm frost of twenty degrees Reaumur, the dazzling sunshine by day,
+and the starlight of the winter nights seemed to call for some special
+celebration of the season.
+
+On the third day of Christmas week, after the midday dinner, all the
+inmates of the house dispersed to various rooms. It was the dullest time
+of the day. Nicholas, who had been visiting some neighbors that morning,
+was asleep on the sitting-room sofa. The old count was resting in his
+study. Sonya sat in the drawing room at the round table, copying a
+design for embroidery. The countess was playing patience. Nastasya
+Ivanovna the buffoon sat with a sad face at the window with two old
+ladies. Natasha came into the room, went up to Sonya, glanced at what
+she was doing, and then went up to her mother and stood without
+speaking.
+
+"Why are you wandering about like an outcast?" asked her mother. "What
+do you want?"
+
+"Him... I want him... now, this minute! I want him!" said Natasha, with
+glittering eyes and no sign of a smile.
+
+The countess lifted her head and looked attentively at her daughter.
+
+"Don't look at me, Mamma! Don't look; I shall cry directly."
+
+"Sit down with me a little," said the countess.
+
+"Mamma, I want him. Why should I be wasted like this, Mamma?"
+
+Her voice broke, tears gushed from her eyes, and she turned quickly to
+hide them and left the room.
+
+She passed into the sitting room, stood there thinking awhile, and then
+went into the maids' room. There an old maidservant was grumbling at a
+young girl who stood panting, having just run in through the cold from
+the serfs' quarters.
+
+"Stop playing--there's a time for everything," said the old woman.
+
+"Let her alone, Kondratevna," said Natasha. "Go, Mavrushka, go."
+
+Having released Mavrushka, Natasha crossed the dancing hall and went to
+the vestibule. There an old footman and two young ones were playing
+cards. They broke off and rose as she entered.
+
+"What can I do with them?" thought Natasha.
+
+"Oh, Nikita, please go... where can I send him?... Yes, go to the yard
+and fetch a fowl, please, a cock, and you, Misha, bring me some oats."
+
+"Just a few oats?" said Misha, cheerfully and readily.
+
+"Go, go quickly," the old man urged him.
+
+"And you, Theodore, get me a piece of chalk."
+
+On her way past the butler's pantry she told them to set a samovar,
+though it was not at all the time for tea.
+
+Foka, the butler, was the most ill-tempered person in the house. Natasha
+liked to test her power over him. He distrusted the order and asked
+whether the samovar was really wanted.
+
+"Oh dear, what a young lady!" said Foka, pretending to frown at Natasha.
+
+No one in the house sent people about or gave them as much trouble as
+Natasha did. She could not see people unconcernedly, but had to send
+them on some errand. She seemed to be trying whether any of them would
+get angry or sulky with her; but the serfs fulfilled no one's orders so
+readily as they did hers. "What can I do, where can I go?" thought she,
+as she went slowly along the passage.
+
+"Nastasya Ivanovna, what sort of children shall I have?" she asked the
+buffoon, who was coming toward her in a woman's jacket.
+
+"Why, fleas, crickets, grasshoppers," answered the buffoon.
+
+"O Lord, O Lord, it's always the same! Oh, where am I to go? What am I
+to do with myself?" And tapping with her heels, she ran quickly upstairs
+to see Vogel and his wife who lived on the upper story.
+
+Two governesses were sitting with the Vogels at a table, on which were
+plates of raisins, walnuts, and almonds. The governesses were discussing
+whether it was cheaper to live in Moscow or Odessa. Natasha sat down,
+listened to their talk with a serious and thoughtful air, and then got
+up again.
+
+"The island of Madagascar," she said, "Ma-da-gas-car," she repeated,
+articulating each syllable distinctly, and, not replying to Madame
+Schoss who asked her what she was saying, she went out of the room.
+
+Her brother Petya was upstairs too; with the man in attendance on him he
+was preparing fireworks to let off that night.
+
+"Petya! Petya!" she called to him. "Carry me downstairs."
+
+Petya ran up and offered her his back. She jumped on it, putting her
+arms round his neck, and he pranced along with her.
+
+"No, don't... the island of Madagascar!" she said, and jumping off his
+back she went downstairs.
+
+Having as it were reviewed her kingdom, tested her power, and made sure
+that everyone was submissive, but that all the same it was dull, Natasha
+betook herself to the ballroom, picked up her guitar, sat down in a dark
+corner behind a bookcase, and began to run her fingers over the strings
+in the bass, picking out a passage she recalled from an opera she had
+heard in Petersburg with Prince Andrew. What she drew from the guitar
+would have had no meaning for other listeners, but in her imagination a
+whole series of reminiscences arose from those sounds. She sat behind
+the bookcase with her eyes fixed on a streak of light escaping from the
+pantry door and listened to herself and pondered. She was in a mood for
+brooding on the past.
+
+Sonya passed to the pantry with a glass in her hand. Natasha glanced at
+her and at the crack in the pantry door, and it seemed to her that she
+remembered the light falling through that crack once before and Sonya
+passing with a glass in her hand. "Yes it was exactly the same," thought
+Natasha.
+
+"Sonya, what is this?" she cried, twanging a thick string.
+
+"Oh, you are there!" said Sonya with a start, and came near and
+listened. "I don't know. A storm?" she ventured timidly, afraid of being
+wrong.
+
+"There! That's just how she started and just how she came up smiling
+timidly when all this happened before," thought Natasha, "and in just
+the same way I thought there was something lacking in her."
+
+"No, it's the chorus from The Water-Carrier, listen!" and Natasha sang
+the air of the chorus so that Sonya should catch it. "Where were you
+going?" she asked.
+
+"To change the water in this glass. I am just finishing the design."
+
+"You always find something to do, but I can't," said Natasha. "And
+where's Nicholas?"
+
+"Asleep, I think."
+
+"Sonya, go and wake him," said Natasha. "Tell him I want him to come and
+sing."
+
+She sat awhile, wondering what the meaning of it all having happened
+before could be, and without solving this problem, or at all regretting
+not having done so, she again passed in fancy to the time when she was
+with him and he was looking at her with a lover's eyes.
+
+"Oh, if only he would come quicker! I am so afraid it will never be!
+And, worst of all, I am growing old--that's the thing! There won't then
+be in me what there is now. But perhaps he'll come today, will come
+immediately. Perhaps he has come and is sitting in the drawing room.
+Perhaps he came yesterday and I have forgotten it." She rose, put down
+the guitar, and went to the drawing room.
+
+All the domestic circle, tutors, governesses, and guests, were already
+at the tea table. The servants stood round the table--but Prince Andrew
+was not there and life was going on as before.
+
+"Ah, here she is!" said the old count, when he saw Natasha enter. "Well,
+sit down by me." But Natasha stayed by her mother and glanced round as
+if looking for something.
+
+"Mamma!" she muttered, "give him to me, give him, Mamma, quickly,
+quickly!" and she again had difficulty in repressing her sobs.
+
+She sat down at the table and listened to the conversation between the
+elders and Nicholas, who had also come to the table. "My God, my God!
+The same faces, the same talk, Papa holding his cup and blowing in the
+same way!" thought Natasha, feeling with horror a sense of repulsion
+rising up in her for the whole household, because they were always the
+same.
+
+After tea, Nicholas, Sonya, and Natasha went to the sitting room, to
+their favorite corner where their most intimate talks always began.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+"Does it ever happen to you," said Natasha to her brother, when they
+settled down in the sitting room, "does it ever happen to you to feel as
+if there were nothing more to come--nothing; that everything good is
+past? And to feel not exactly dull, but sad?"
+
+"I should think so!" he replied. "I have felt like that when everything
+was all right and everyone was cheerful. The thought has come into my
+mind that I was already tired of it all, and that we must all die. Once
+in the regiment I had not gone to some merrymaking where there was
+music... and suddenly I felt so depressed..."
+
+"Oh yes, I know, I know, I know!" Natasha interrupted him. "When I was
+quite little that used to be so with me. Do you remember when I was
+punished once about some plums? You were all dancing, and I sat sobbing
+in the schoolroom? I shall never forget it: I felt sad and sorry for
+everyone, for myself, and for everyone. And I was innocent--that was the
+chief thing," said Natasha. "Do you remember?"
+
+"I remember," answered Nicholas. "I remember that I came to you
+afterwards and wanted to comfort you, but do you know, I felt ashamed
+to. We were terribly absurd. I had a funny doll then and wanted to give
+it to you. Do you remember?"
+
+"And do you remember," Natasha asked with a pensive smile, "how once,
+long, long ago, when we were quite little, Uncle called us into the
+study--that was in the old house--and it was dark--we went in and
+suddenly there stood..."
+
+"A Negro," chimed in Nicholas with a smile of delight. "Of course I
+remember. Even now I don't know whether there really was a Negro, or if
+we only dreamed it or were told about him."
+
+"He was gray, you remember, and had white teeth, and stood and looked at
+us..."
+
+"Sonya, do you remember?" asked Nicholas.
+
+"Yes, yes, I do remember something too," Sonya answered timidly.
+
+"You know I have asked Papa and Mamma about that Negro," said Natasha,
+"and they say there was no Negro at all. But you see, you remember!"
+
+"Of course I do, I remember his teeth as if I had just seen them."
+
+"How strange it is! It's as if it were a dream! I like that."
+
+"And do you remember how we rolled hard-boiled eggs in the ballroom, and
+suddenly two old women began spinning round on the carpet? Was that real
+or not? Do you remember what fun it was?"
+
+"Yes, and you remember how Papa in his blue overcoat fired a gun in the
+porch?"
+
+So they went through their memories, smiling with pleasure: not the sad
+memories of old age, but poetic, youthful ones--those impressions of
+one's most distant past in which dreams and realities blend--and they
+laughed with quiet enjoyment.
+
+Sonya, as always, did not quite keep pace with them, though they shared
+the same reminiscences.
+
+Much that they remembered had slipped from her mind, and what she
+recalled did not arouse the same poetic feeling as they experienced. She
+simply enjoyed their pleasure and tried to fit in with it.
+
+She only really took part when they recalled Sonya's first arrival. She
+told them how afraid she had been of Nicholas because he had on a corded
+jacket and her nurse had told her that she, too, would be sewn up with
+cords.
+
+"And I remember their telling me that you had been born under a
+cabbage," said Natasha, "and I remember that I dared not disbelieve it
+then, but knew that it was not true, and I felt so uncomfortable."
+
+While they were talking a maid thrust her head in at the other door of
+the sitting room.
+
+"They have brought the cock, Miss," she said in a whisper.
+
+"It isn't wanted, Petya. Tell them to take it away," replied Natasha.
+
+In the middle of their talk in the sitting room, Dimmler came in and
+went up to the harp that stood there in a corner. He took off its cloth
+covering, and the harp gave out a jarring sound.
+
+"Mr. Dimmler, please play my favorite nocturne by Field," came the old
+countess' voice from the drawing room.
+
+Dimmler struck a chord and, turning to Natasha, Nicholas, and Sonya,
+remarked: "How quiet you young people are!"
+
+"Yes, we're philosophizing," said Natasha, glancing round for a moment
+and then continuing the conversation. They were now discussing dreams.
+
+Dimmler began to play; Natasha went on tiptoe noiselessly to the table,
+took up a candle, carried it out, and returned, seating herself quietly
+in her former place. It was dark in the room especially where they were
+sitting on the sofa, but through the big windows the silvery light of
+the full moon fell on the floor. Dimmler had finished the piece but
+still sat softly running his fingers over the strings, evidently
+uncertain whether to stop or to play something else.
+
+"Do you know," said Natasha in a whisper, moving closer to Nicholas and
+Sonya, "that when one goes on and on recalling memories, one at last
+begins to remember what happened before one was in the world..."
+
+"That is metempsychosis," said Sonya, who had always learned well, and
+remembered everything. "The Egyptians believed that our souls have lived
+in animals, and will go back into animals again."
+
+"No, I don't believe we ever were in animals," said Natasha, still in a
+whisper though the music had ceased. "But I am certain that we were
+angels somewhere there, and have been here, and that is why we
+remember...."
+
+"May I join you?" said Dimmler who had come up quietly, and he sat down
+by them.
+
+"If we have been angels, why have we fallen lower?" said Nicholas. "No,
+that can't be!"
+
+"Not lower, who said we were lower?... How do I know what I was before?"
+Natasha rejoined with conviction. "The soul is immortal--well then, if I
+shall always live I must have lived before, lived for a whole eternity."
+
+"Yes, but it is hard for us to imagine eternity," remarked Dimmler, who
+had joined the young folk with a mildly condescending smile but now
+spoke as quietly and seriously as they.
+
+"Why is it hard to imagine eternity?" said Natasha. "It is now today,
+and it will be tomorrow, and always; and there was yesterday, and the
+day before..."
+
+"Natasha! Now it's your turn. Sing me something," they heard the
+countess say. "Why are you sitting there like conspirators?"
+
+"Mamma, I don't at all want to," replied Natasha, but all the same she
+rose.
+
+None of them, not even the middle-aged Dimmler, wanted to break off
+their conversation and quit that corner in the sitting room, but Natasha
+got up and Nicholas sat down at the clavichord. Standing as usual in the
+middle of the hall and choosing the place where the resonance was best,
+Natasha began to sing her mother's favorite song.
+
+She had said she did not want to sing, but it was long since she had
+sung, and long before she again sang, as she did that evening. The
+count, from his study where he was talking to Mitenka, heard her and,
+like a schoolboy in a hurry to run out to play, blundered in his talk
+while giving orders to the steward, and at last stopped, while Mitenka
+stood in front of him also listening and smiling. Nicholas did not take
+his eyes off his sister and drew breath in time with her. Sonya, as she
+listened, thought of the immense difference there was between herself
+and her friend, and how impossible it was for her to be anything like as
+bewitching as her cousin. The old countess sat with a blissful yet sad
+smile and with tears in her eyes, occasionally shaking her head. She
+thought of Natasha and of her own youth, and of how there was something
+unnatural and dreadful in this impending marriage of Natasha and Prince
+Andrew.
+
+Dimmler, who had seated himself beside the countess, listened with
+closed eyes.
+
+"Ah, Countess," he said at last, "that's a European talent, she has
+nothing to learn--what softness, tenderness, and strength...."
+
+"Ah, how afraid I am for her, how afraid I am!" said the countess, not
+realizing to whom she was speaking. Her maternal instinct told her that
+Natasha had too much of something, and that because of this she would
+not be happy. Before Natasha had finished singing, fourteen-year-old
+Petya rushed in delightedly, to say that some mummers had arrived.
+
+Natasha stopped abruptly.
+
+"Idiot!" she screamed at her brother and, running to a chair, threw
+herself on it, sobbing so violently that she could not stop for a long
+time.
+
+"It's nothing, Mamma, really it's nothing; only Petya startled me," she
+said, trying to smile, but her tears still flowed and sobs still choked
+her.
+
+The mummers (some of the house serfs) dressed up as bears, Turks,
+innkeepers, and ladies--frightening and funny--bringing in with them the
+cold from outside and a feeling of gaiety, crowded, at first timidly,
+into the anteroom, then hiding behind one another they pushed into the
+ballroom where, shyly at first and then more and more merrily and
+heartily, they started singing, dancing, and playing Christmas games.
+The countess, when she had identified them and laughed at their
+costumes, went into the drawing room. The count sat in the ballroom,
+smiling radiantly and applauding the players. The young people had
+disappeared.
+
+Half an hour later there appeared among the other mummers in the
+ballroom an old lady in a hooped skirt--this was Nicholas. A Turkish
+girl was Petya. A clown was Dimmler. An hussar was Natasha, and a
+Circassian was Sonya with burnt-cork mustache and eyebrows.
+
+After the condescending surprise, nonrecognition, and praise, from those
+who were not themselves dressed up, the young people decided that their
+costumes were so good that they ought to be shown elsewhere.
+
+Nicholas, who, as the roads were in splendid condition, wanted to take
+them all for a drive in his troyka, proposed to take with them about a
+dozen of the serf mummers and drive to "Uncle's."
+
+"No, why disturb the old fellow?" said the countess. "Besides, you
+wouldn't have room to turn round there. If you must go, go to the
+Melyukovs'."
+
+Melyukova was a widow, who, with her family and their tutors and
+governesses, lived three miles from the Rostovs.
+
+"That's right, my dear," chimed in the old count, thoroughly aroused.
+"I'll dress up at once and go with them. I'll make Pashette open her
+eyes."
+
+But the countess would not agree to his going; he had had a bad leg all
+these last days. It was decided that the count must not go, but that if
+Louisa Ivanovna (Madame Schoss) would go with them, the young ladies
+might go to the Melyukovs', Sonya, generally so timid and shy, more
+urgently than anyone begging Louisa Ivanovna not to refuse.
+
+Sonya's costume was the best of all. Her mustache and eyebrows were
+extraordinarily becoming. Everyone told her she looked very handsome,
+and she was in a spirited and energetic mood unusual with her. Some
+inner voice told her that now or never her fate would be decided, and in
+her male attire she seemed quite a different person. Louisa Ivanovna
+consented to go, and in half an hour four troyka sleighs with large and
+small bells, their runners squeaking and whistling over the frozen snow,
+drove up to the porch.
+
+Natasha was foremost in setting a merry holiday tone, which, passing
+from one to another, grew stronger and reached its climax when they all
+came out into the frost and got into the sleighs, talking, calling to
+one another, laughing, and shouting.
+
+Two of the troykas were the usual household sleighs, the third was the
+old count's with a trotter from the Orlov stud as shaft horse, the
+fourth was Nicholas' own with a short shaggy black shaft horse.
+Nicholas, in his old lady's dress over which he had belted his hussar
+overcoat, stood in the middle of the sleigh, reins in hand.
+
+It was so light that he could see the moonlight reflected from the metal
+harness disks and from the eyes of the horses, who looked round in alarm
+at the noisy party under the shadow of the porch roof.
+
+Natasha, Sonya, Madame Schoss, and two maids got into Nicholas' sleigh;
+Dimmler, his wife, and Petya, into the old count's, and the rest of the
+mummers seated themselves in the other two sleighs.
+
+"You go ahead, Zakhar!" shouted Nicholas to his father's coachman,
+wishing for a chance to race past him.
+
+The old count's troyka, with Dimmler and his party, started forward,
+squeaking on its runners as though freezing to the snow, its deep-toned
+bell clanging. The side horses, pressing against the shafts of the
+middle horse, sank in the snow, which was dry and glittered like sugar,
+and threw it up.
+
+Nicholas set off, following the first sleigh; behind him the others
+moved noisily, their runners squeaking. At first they drove at a steady
+trot along the narrow road. While they drove past the garden the shadows
+of the bare trees often fell across the road and hid the brilliant
+moonlight, but as soon as they were past the fence, the snowy plain
+bathed in moonlight and motionless spread out before them glittering
+like diamonds and dappled with bluish shadows. Bang, bang! went the
+first sleigh over a cradle hole in the snow of the road, and each of the
+other sleighs jolted in the same way, and rudely breaking the frost-
+bound stillness, the troykas began to speed along the road, one after
+the other.
+
+"A hare's track, a lot of tracks!" rang out Natasha's voice through the
+frost-bound air.
+
+"How light it is, Nicholas!" came Sonya's voice.
+
+Nicholas glanced round at Sonya, and bent down to see her face closer.
+Quite a new, sweet face with black eyebrows and mustaches peeped up at
+him from her sable furs--so close and yet so distant--in the moonlight.
+
+"That used to be Sonya," thought he, and looked at her closer and
+smiled.
+
+"What is it, Nicholas?"
+
+"Nothing," said he and turned again to the horses.
+
+When they came out onto the beaten highroad--polished by sleigh runners
+and cut up by rough-shod hoofs, the marks of which were visible in the
+moonlight--the horses began to tug at the reins of their own accord and
+increased their pace. The near side horse, arching his head and breaking
+into a short canter, tugged at his traces. The shaft horse swayed from
+side to side, moving his ears as if asking: "Isn't it time to begin
+now?" In front, already far ahead the deep bell of the sleigh ringing
+farther and farther off, the black horses driven by Zakhar could be
+clearly seen against the white snow. From that sleigh one could hear the
+shouts, laughter, and voices of the mummers.
+
+"Gee up, my darlings!" shouted Nicholas, pulling the reins to one side
+and flourishing the whip.
+
+It was only by the keener wind that met them and the jerks given by the
+side horses who pulled harder--ever increasing their gallop--that one
+noticed how fast the troyka was flying. Nicholas looked back. With
+screams squeals, and waving of whips that caused even the shaft horses
+to gallop--the other sleighs followed. The shaft horse swung steadily
+beneath the bow over its head, with no thought of slackening pace and
+ready to put on speed when required.
+
+Nicholas overtook the first sleigh. They were driving downhill and
+coming out upon a broad trodden track across a meadow, near a river.
+
+"Where are we?" thought he. "It's the Kosoy meadow, I suppose. But no--
+this is something new I've never seen before. This isn't the Kosoy
+meadow nor the Demkin hill, and heaven only knows what it is! It is
+something new and enchanted. Well, whatever it may be..." And shouting
+to his horses, he began to pass the first sleigh.
+
+Zakhar held back his horses and turned his face, which was already
+covered with hoarfrost to his eyebrows.
+
+Nicholas gave the horses the rein, and Zakhar, stretching out his arms,
+clucked his tongue and let his horses go.
+
+"Now, look out, master!" he cried.
+
+Faster still the two troykas flew side by side, and faster moved the
+feet of the galloping side horses. Nicholas began to draw ahead. Zakhar,
+while still keeping his arms extended, raised one hand with the reins.
+
+"No you won't, master!" he shouted.
+
+Nicholas put all his horses to a gallop and passed Zakhar. The horses
+showered the fine dry snow on the faces of those in the sleigh--beside
+them sounded quick ringing bells and they caught confused glimpses of
+swiftly moving legs and the shadows of the troyka they were passing. The
+whistling sound of the runners on the snow and the voices of girls
+shrieking were heard from different sides.
+
+Again checking his horses, Nicholas looked around him. They were still
+surrounded by the magic plain bathed in moonlight and spangled with
+stars.
+
+"Zakhar is shouting that I should turn to the left, but why to the
+left?" thought Nicholas. "Are we getting to the Melyukovs'? Is this
+Melyukovka? Heaven only knows where we are going, and heaven knows what
+is happening to us--but it is very strange and pleasant whatever it is."
+And he looked round in the sleigh.
+
+"Look, his mustache and eyelashes are all white!" said one of the
+strange, pretty, unfamiliar people--the one with fine eyebrows and
+mustache.
+
+"I think this used to be Natasha," thought Nicholas, "and that was
+Madame Schoss, but perhaps it's not, and this Circassian with the
+mustache I don't know, but I love her."
+
+"Aren't you cold?" he asked.
+
+They did not answer but began to laugh. Dimmler from the sleigh behind
+shouted something--probably something funny--but they could not make out
+what he said.
+
+"Yes, yes!" some voices answered, laughing.
+
+"But here was a fairy forest with black moving shadows, and a glitter of
+diamonds and a flight of marble steps and the silver roofs of fairy
+buildings and the shrill yells of some animals. And if this is really
+Melyukovka, it is still stranger that we drove heaven knows where and
+have come to Melyukovka," thought Nicholas.
+
+It really was Melyukovka, and maids and footmen with merry faces came
+running, out to the porch carrying candles.
+
+"Who is it?" asked someone in the porch.
+
+"The mummers from the count's. I know by the horses," replied some
+voices.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+Pelageya Danilovna Melyukova, a broadly built, energetic woman wearing
+spectacles, sat in the drawing room in a loose dress, surrounded by her
+daughters whom she was trying to keep from feeling dull. They were
+quietly dropping melted wax into snow and looking at the shadows the wax
+figures would throw on the wall, when they heard the steps and voices of
+new arrivals in the vestibule.
+
+Hussars, ladies, witches, clowns, and bears, after clearing their
+throats and wiping the hoarfrost from their faces in the vestibule, came
+into the ballroom where candles were hurriedly lighted. The clown--
+Dimmler--and the lady--Nicholas--started a dance. Surrounded by the
+screaming children the mummers, covering their faces and disguising
+their voices, bowed to their hostess and arranged themselves about the
+room.
+
+"Dear me! there's no recognizing them! And Natasha! See whom she looks
+like! She really reminds me of somebody. But Herr Dimmler--isn't he
+good! I didn't know him! And how he dances. Dear me, there's a
+Circassian. Really, how becoming it is to dear Sonya. And who is that?
+Well, you have cheered us up! Nikita and Vanya--clear away the tables!
+And we were sitting so quietly. Ha, ha, ha!... The hussar, the hussar!
+Just like a boy! And the legs!... I can't look at him..." different
+voices were saying.
+
+Natasha, the young Melyukovs' favorite, disappeared with them into the
+back rooms where a cork and various dressing gowns and male garments
+were called for and received from the footman by bare girlish arms from
+behind the door. Ten minutes later, all the young Melyukovs joined the
+mummers.
+
+Pelageya Danilovna, having given orders to clear the rooms for the
+visitors and arranged about refreshments for the gentry and the serfs,
+went about among the mummers without removing her spectacles, peering
+into their faces with a suppressed smile and failing to recognize any of
+them. It was not merely Dimmler and the Rostovs she failed to recognize,
+she did not even recognize her own daughters, or her late husband's,
+dressing gowns and uniforms, which they had put on.
+
+"And who is this?" she asked her governess, peering into the face of her
+own daughter dressed up as a Kazan-Tartar. "I suppose it is one of the
+Rostovs! Well, Mr. Hussar, and what regiment do you serve in?" she asked
+Natasha. "Here, hand some fruit jelly to the Turk!" she ordered the
+butler who was handing things round. "That's not forbidden by his law."
+
+Sometimes, as she looked at the strange but amusing capers cut by the
+dancers, who--having decided once for all that being disguised, no one
+would recognize them--were not at all shy, Pelageya Danilovna hid her
+face in her handkerchief, and her whole stout body shook with
+irrepressible, kindly, elderly laughter.
+
+"My little Sasha! Look at Sasha!" she said.
+
+After Russian country dances and chorus dances, Pelageya Danilovna made
+the serfs and gentry join in one large circle: a ring, a string, and a
+silver ruble were fetched and they all played games together.
+
+In an hour, all the costumes were crumpled and disordered. The corked
+eyebrows and mustaches were smeared over the perspiring, flushed, and
+merry faces. Pelageya Danilovna began to recognize the mummers, admired
+their cleverly contrived costumes, and particularly how they suited the
+young ladies, and she thanked them all for having entertained her so
+well. The visitors were invited to supper in the drawing room, and the
+serfs had something served to them in the ballroom.
+
+"Now to tell one's fortune in the empty bathhouse is frightening!" said
+an old maid who lived with the Melyukovs, during supper.
+
+"Why?" said the eldest Melyukov girl.
+
+"You wouldn't go, it takes courage..."
+
+"I'll go," said Sonya.
+
+"Tell what happened to the young lady!" said the second Melyukov girl.
+
+"Well," began the old maid, "a young lady once went out, took a cock,
+laid the table for two, all properly, and sat down. After sitting a
+while, she suddenly hears someone coming... a sleigh drives up with
+harness bells; she hears him coming! He comes in, just in the shape of a
+man, like an officer--comes in and sits down to table with her."
+
+"Ah! ah!" screamed Natasha, rolling her eyes with horror.
+
+"Yes? And how... did he speak?"
+
+"Yes, like a man. Everything quite all right, and he began persuading
+her; and she should have kept him talking till cockcrow, but she got
+frightened, just got frightened and hid her face in her hands. Then he
+caught her up. It was lucky the maids ran in just then..."
+
+"Now, why frighten them?" said Pelageya Danilovna.
+
+"Mamma, you used to try your fate yourself..." said her daughter.
+
+"And how does one do it in a barn?" inquired Sonya.
+
+"Well, say you went to the barn now, and listened. It depends on what
+you hear; hammering and knocking--that's bad; but a sound of shifting
+grain is good and one sometimes hears that, too."
+
+"Mamma, tell us what happened to you in the barn."
+
+Pelageya Danilovna smiled.
+
+"Oh, I've forgotten..." she replied. "But none of you would go?"
+
+"Yes, I will; Pelageya Danilovna, let me! I'll go," said Sonya.
+
+"Well, why not, if you're not afraid?"
+
+"Louisa Ivanovna, may I?" asked Sonya.
+
+Whether they were playing the ring and string game or the ruble game or
+talking as now, Nicholas did not leave Sonya's side, and gazed at her
+with quite new eyes. It seemed to him that it was only today, thanks to
+that burnt-cork mustache, that he had fully learned to know her. And
+really, that evening, Sonya was brighter, more animated, and prettier
+than Nicholas had ever seen her before.
+
+"So that's what she is like; what a fool I have been!" he thought gazing
+at her sparkling eyes, and under the mustache a happy rapturous smile
+dimpled her cheeks, a smile he had never seen before.
+
+"I'm not afraid of anything," said Sonya. "May I go at once?" She got
+up.
+
+They told her where the barn was and how she should stand and listen,
+and they handed her a fur cloak. She threw this over her head and
+shoulders and glanced at Nicholas.
+
+"What a darling that girl is!" thought he. "And what have I been
+thinking of till now?"
+
+Sonya went out into the passage to go to the barn. Nicholas went hastily
+to the front porch, saying he felt too hot. The crowd of people really
+had made the house stuffy.
+
+Outside, there was the same cold stillness and the same moon, but even
+brighter than before. The light was so strong and the snow sparkled with
+so many stars that one did not wish to look up at the sky and the real
+stars were unnoticed. The sky was black and dreary, while the earth was
+gay.
+
+"I am a fool, a fool! what have I been waiting for?" thought Nicholas,
+and running out from the porch he went round the corner of the house and
+along the path that led to the back porch. He knew Sonya would pass that
+way. Halfway lay some snow-covered piles of firewood and across and
+along them a network of shadows from the bare old lime trees fell on the
+snow and on the path. This path led to the barn. The log walls of the
+barn and its snow-covered roof, that looked as if hewn out of some
+precious stone, sparkled in the moonlight. A tree in the garden snapped
+with the frost, and then all was again perfectly silent. His bosom
+seemed to inhale not air but the strength of eternal youth and gladness.
+
+From the back porch came the sound of feet descending the steps, the
+bottom step upon which snow had fallen gave a ringing creak and he heard
+the voice of an old maidservant saying, "Straight, straight, along the
+path, Miss. Only, don't look back."
+
+"I am not afraid," answered Sonya's voice, and along the path toward
+Nicholas came the crunching, whistling sound of Sonya's feet in her thin
+shoes.
+
+Sonya came along, wrapped in her cloak. She was only a couple of paces
+away when she saw him, and to her too he was not the Nicholas she had
+known and always slightly feared. He was in a woman's dress, with
+tousled hair and a happy smile new to Sonya. She ran rapidly toward him.
+
+"Quite different and yet the same," thought Nicholas, looking at her
+face all lit up by the moonlight. He slipped his arms under the cloak
+that covered her head, embraced her, pressed her to him, and kissed her
+on the lips that wore a mustache and had a smell of burnt cork. Sonya
+kissed him full on the lips, and disengaging her little hands pressed
+them to his cheeks.
+
+"Sonya!... Nicholas!"... was all they said. They ran to the barn and
+then back again, re-entering, he by the front and she by the back porch.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+When they all drove back from Pelageya Danilovna's, Natasha, who always
+saw and noticed everything, arranged that she and Madame Schoss should
+go back in the sleigh with Dimmler, and Sonya with Nicholas and the
+maids.
+
+On the way back Nicholas drove at a steady pace instead of racing and
+kept peering by that fantastic all-transforming light into Sonya's face
+and searching beneath the eyebrows and mustache for his former and his
+present Sonya from whom he had resolved never to be parted again. He
+looked and recognizing in her both the old and the new Sonya, and being
+reminded by the smell of burnt cork of the sensation of her kiss,
+inhaled the frosty air with a full breast and, looking at the ground
+flying beneath him and at the sparkling sky, felt himself again in
+fairyland.
+
+"Sonya, is it well with thee?" he asked from time to time.
+
+"Yes!" she replied. "And with thee?"
+
+When halfway home Nicholas handed the reins to the coachman and ran for
+a moment to Natasha's sleigh and stood on its wing.
+
+"Natasha!" he whispered in French, "do you know I have made up my mind
+about Sonya?"
+
+"Have you told her?" asked Natasha, suddenly beaming all over with joy.
+
+"Oh, how strange you are with that mustache and those eyebrows!...
+Natasha--are you glad?"
+
+"I am so glad, so glad! I was beginning to be vexed with you. I did not
+tell you, but you have been treating her badly. What a heart she has,
+Nicholas! I am horrid sometimes, but I was ashamed to be happy while
+Sonya was not," continued Natasha. "Now I am so glad! Well, run back to
+her."
+
+"No, wait a bit.... Oh, how funny you look!" cried Nicholas, peering
+into her face and finding in his sister too something new, unusual, and
+bewitchingly tender that he had not seen in her before. "Natasha, it's
+magical, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes," she replied. "You have done splendidly."
+
+"Had I seen her before as she is now," thought Nicholas, "I should long
+ago have asked her what to do and have done whatever she told me, and
+all would have been well."
+
+"So you are glad and I have done right?"
+
+"Oh, quite right! I had a quarrel with Mamma some time ago about it.
+Mamma said she was angling for you. How could she say such a thing! I
+nearly stormed at Mamma. I will never let anyone say anything bad of
+Sonya, for there is nothing but good in her."
+
+"Then it's all right?" said Nicholas, again scrutinizing the expression
+of his sister's face to see if she was in earnest. Then he jumped down
+and, his boots scrunching the snow, ran back to his sleigh. The same
+happy, smiling Circassian, with mustache and beaming eyes looking up
+from under a sable hood, was still sitting there, and that Circassian
+was Sonya, and that Sonya was certainly his future happy and loving
+wife.
+
+When they reached home and had told their mother how they had spent the
+evening at the Melyukovs', the girls went to their bedroom. When they
+had undressed, but without washing off the cork mustaches, they sat a
+long time talking of their happiness. They talked of how they would live
+when they were married, how their husbands would be friends, and how
+happy they would be. On Natasha's table stood two looking glasses which
+Dunyasha had prepared beforehand.
+
+"Only when will all that be? I am afraid never.... It would be too
+good!" said Natasha, rising and going to the looking glasses.
+
+"Sit down, Natasha; perhaps you'll see him," said Sonya.
+
+Natasha lit the candles, one on each side of one of the looking glasses,
+and sat down.
+
+"I see someone with a mustache," said Natasha, seeing her own face.
+
+"You mustn't laugh, Miss," said Dunyasha.
+
+With Sonya's help and the maid's, Natasha got the glass she held into
+the right position opposite the other; her face assumed a serious
+expression and she sat silent. She sat a long time looking at the
+receding line of candles reflected in the glasses and expecting (from
+tales she had heard) to see a coffin, or him, Prince Andrew, in that
+last dim, indistinctly outlined square. But ready as she was to take the
+smallest speck for the image of a man or of a coffin, she saw nothing.
+She began blinking rapidly and moved away from the looking glasses.
+
+"Why is it others see things and I don't?" she said. "You sit down now,
+Sonya. You absolutely must, tonight! Do it for me.... Today I feel so
+frightened!"
+
+Sonya sat down before the glasses, got the right position, and began
+looking.
+
+"Now, Miss Sonya is sure to see something," whispered Dunyasha; "while
+you do nothing but laugh."
+
+Sonya heard this and Natasha's whisper:
+
+"I know she will. She saw something last year."
+
+For about three minutes all were silent.
+
+"Of course she will!" whispered Natasha, but did not finish... suddenly
+Sonya pushed away the glass she was holding and covered her eyes with
+her hand.
+
+"Oh, Natasha!" she cried.
+
+"Did you see? Did you? What was it?" exclaimed Natasha, holding up the
+looking glass.
+
+Sonya had not seen anything, she was just wanting to blink and to get up
+when she heard Natasha say, "Of course she will!" She did not wish to
+disappoint either Dunyasha or Natasha, but it was hard to sit still. She
+did not herself know how or why the exclamation escaped her when she
+covered her eyes.
+
+"You saw him?" urged Natasha, seizing her hand.
+
+"Yes. Wait a bit... I... saw him," Sonya could not help saying, not yet
+knowing whom Natasha meant by him, Nicholas or Prince Andrew.
+
+"But why shouldn't I say I saw something? Others do see! Besides who can
+tell whether I saw anything or not?" flashed through Sonya's mind.
+
+"Yes, I saw him," she said.
+
+"How? Standing or lying?"
+
+"No, I saw... At first there was nothing, then I saw him lying down."
+
+"Andrew lying? Is he ill?" asked Natasha, her frightened eyes fixed on
+her friend.
+
+"No, on the contrary, on the contrary! His face was cheerful, and he
+turned to me." And when saying this she herself fancied she had really
+seen what she described.
+
+"Well, and then, Sonya?..."
+
+"After that, I could not make out what there was; something blue and
+red..."
+
+"Sonya! When will he come back? When shall I see him! O, God, how afraid
+I am for him and for myself and about everything!..." Natasha began, and
+without replying to Sonya's words of comfort she got into bed, and long
+after her candle was out lay open-eyed and motionless, gazing at the
+moonlight through the frosty windowpanes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+Soon after the Christmas holidays Nicholas told his mother of his love
+for Sonya and of his firm resolve to marry her. The countess, who had
+long noticed what was going on between them and was expecting this
+declaration, listened to him in silence and then told her son that he
+might marry whom he pleased, but that neither she nor his father would
+give their blessing to such a marriage. Nicholas, for the first time,
+felt that his mother was displeased with him and that, despite her love
+for him, she would not give way. Coldly, without looking at her son, she
+sent for her husband and, when he came, tried briefly and coldly to
+inform him of the facts, in her son's presence, but unable to restrain
+herself she burst into tears of vexation and left the room. The old
+count began irresolutely to admonish Nicholas and beg him to abandon his
+purpose. Nicholas replied that he could not go back on his word, and his
+father, sighing and evidently disconcerted, very soon became silent and
+went in to the countess. In all his encounters with his son, the count
+was always conscious of his own guilt toward him for having wasted the
+family fortune, and so he could not be angry with him for refusing to
+marry an heiress and choosing the dowerless Sonya. On this occasion, he
+was only more vividly conscious of the fact that if his affairs had not
+been in disorder, no better wife for Nicholas than Sonya could have been
+wished for, and that no one but himself with his Mitenka and his
+uncomfortable habits was to blame for the condition of the family
+finances.
+
+The father and mother did not speak of the matter to their son again,
+but a few days later the countess sent for Sonya and, with a cruelty
+neither of them expected, reproached her niece for trying to catch
+Nicholas and for ingratitude. Sonya listened silently with downcast eyes
+to the countess' cruel words, without understanding what was required of
+her. She was ready to sacrifice everything for her benefactors. Self-
+sacrifice was her most cherished idea but in this case she could not see
+what she ought to sacrifice, or for whom. She could not help loving the
+countess and the whole Rostov family, but neither could she help loving
+Nicholas and knowing that his happiness depended on that love. She was
+silent and sad and did not reply. Nicholas felt the situation to be
+intolerable and went to have an explanation with his mother. He first
+implored her to forgive him and Sonya and consent to their marriage,
+then he threatened that if she molested Sonya he would at once marry her
+secretly.
+
+The countess, with a coldness her son had never seen in her before,
+replied that he was of age, that Prince Andrew was marrying without his
+father's consent, and he could do the same, but that she would never
+receive that intriguer as her daughter.
+
+Exploding at the word intriguer, Nicholas, raising his voice, told his
+mother he had never expected her to try to force him to sell his
+feelings, but if that were so, he would say for the last time.... But he
+had no time to utter the decisive word which the expression of his face
+caused his mother to await with terror, and which would perhaps have
+forever remained a cruel memory to them both. He had not time to say it,
+for Natasha, with a pale and set face, entered the room from the door at
+which she had been listening.
+
+"Nicholas, you are talking nonsense! Be quiet, be quiet, be quiet, I
+tell you!..." she almost screamed, so as to drown his voice.
+
+"Mamma darling, it's not at all so... my poor, sweet darling," she said
+to her mother, who conscious that they had been on the brink of a
+rupture gazed at her son with terror, but in the obstinacy and
+excitement of the conflict could not and would not give way.
+
+"Nicholas, I'll explain to you. Go away! Listen, Mamma darling," said
+Natasha.
+
+Her words were incoherent, but they attained the purpose at which she
+was aiming.
+
+The countess, sobbing heavily, hid her face on her daughter's breast,
+while Nicholas rose, clutching his head, and left the room.
+
+Natasha set to work to effect a reconciliation, and so far succeeded
+that Nicholas received a promise from his mother that Sonya should not
+be troubled, while he on his side promised not to undertake anything
+without his parents' knowledge.
+
+Firmly resolved, after putting his affairs in order in the regiment, to
+retire from the army and return and marry Sonya, Nicholas, serious,
+sorrowful, and at variance with his parents, but, as it seemed to him,
+passionately in love, left at the beginning of January to rejoin his
+regiment.
+
+After Nicholas had gone things in the Rostov household were more
+depressing than ever, and the countess fell ill from mental agitation.
+
+Sonya was unhappy at the separation from Nicholas and still more so on
+account of the hostile tone the countess could not help adopting toward
+her. The count was more perturbed than ever by the condition of his
+affairs, which called for some decisive action. Their town house and
+estate near Moscow had inevitably to be sold, and for this they had to
+go to Moscow. But the countess' health obliged them to delay their
+departure from day to day.
+
+Natasha, who had borne the first period of separation from her betrothed
+lightly and even cheerfully, now grew more agitated and impatient every
+day. The thought that her best days, which she would have employed in
+loving him, were being vainly wasted, with no advantage to anyone,
+tormented her incessantly. His letters for the most part irritated her.
+It hurt her to think that while she lived only in the thought of him, he
+was living a real life, seeing new places and new people that interested
+him. The more interesting his letters were the more vexed she felt. Her
+letters to him, far from giving her any comfort, seemed to her a
+wearisome and artificial obligation. She could not write, because she
+could not conceive the possibility of expressing sincerely in a letter
+even a thousandth part of what she expressed by voice, smile, and
+glance. She wrote to him formal, monotonous, and dry letters, to which
+she attached no importance herself, and in the rough copies of which the
+countess corrected her mistakes in spelling.
+
+There was still no improvement in the countess' health, but it was
+impossible to defer the journey to Moscow any longer. Natasha's
+trousseau had to be ordered and the house sold. Moreover, Prince Andrew
+was expected in Moscow, where old Prince Bolkonski was spending the
+winter, and Natasha felt sure he had already arrived.
+
+So the countess remained in the country, and the count, taking Sonya and
+Natasha with him, went to Moscow at the end of January.
+
+BOOK EIGHT: 1811 - 12
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+After Prince Andrew's engagement to Natasha, Pierre without any apparent
+cause suddenly felt it impossible to go on living as before. Firmly
+convinced as he was of the truths revealed to him by his benefactor, and
+happy as he had been in perfecting his inner man, to which he had
+devoted himself with such ardor--all the zest of such a life vanished
+after the engagement of Andrew and Natasha and the death of Joseph
+Alexeevich, the news of which reached him almost at the same time. Only
+the skeleton of life remained: his house, a brilliant wife who now
+enjoyed the favors of a very important personage, acquaintance with all
+Petersburg, and his court service with its dull formalities. And this
+life suddenly seemed to Pierre unexpectedly loathsome. He ceased keeping
+a diary, avoided the company of the Brothers, began going to the club
+again, drank a great deal, and came once more in touch with the bachelor
+sets, leading such a life that the Countess Helene thought it necessary
+to speak severely to him about it. Pierre felt that she was right, and
+to avoid compromising her went away to Moscow.
+
+In Moscow as soon as he entered his huge house in which the faded and
+fading princesses still lived, with its enormous retinue; as soon as,
+driving through the town, he saw the Iberian shrine with innumerable
+tapers burning before the golden covers of the icons, the Kremlin Square
+with its snow undisturbed by vehicles, the sleigh drivers and hovels of
+the Sivtsev Vrazhok, those old Moscovites who desired nothing, hurried
+nowhere, and were ending their days leisurely; when he saw those old
+Moscow ladies, the Moscow balls, and the English Club, he felt himself
+at home in a quiet haven. In Moscow he felt at peace, at home, warm and
+dirty as in an old dressing gown.
+
+Moscow society, from the old women down to the children, received Pierre
+like a long-expected guest whose place was always ready awaiting him.
+For Moscow society Pierre was the nicest, kindest, most intellectual,
+merriest, and most magnanimous of cranks, a heedless, genial nobleman of
+the old Russian type. His purse was always empty because it was open to
+everyone.
+
+Benefit performances, poor pictures, statues, benevolent societies,
+gypsy choirs, schools, subscription dinners, sprees, Freemasons,
+churches, and books--no one and nothing met with a refusal from him, and
+had it not been for two friends who had borrowed large sums from him and
+taken him under their protection, he would have given everything away.
+There was never a dinner or soiree at the club without him. As soon as
+he sank into his place on the sofa after two bottles of Margaux he was
+surrounded, and talking, disputing, and joking began. When there were
+quarrels, his kindly smile and well-timed jests reconciled the
+antagonists. The masonic dinners were dull and dreary when he was not
+there.
+
+When after a bachelor supper he rose with his amiable and kindly smile,
+yielding to the entreaties of the festive company to drive off somewhere
+with them, shouts of delight and triumph arose among the young men. At
+balls he danced if a partner was needed. Young ladies, married and
+unmarried, liked him because without making love to any of them, he was
+equally amiable to all, especially after supper. "Il est charmant; il
+n'a pas de sexe," * they said of him.
+
+
+* "He is charming; he has no sex."
+
+Pierre was one of those retired gentlemen-in-waiting of whom there were
+hundreds good-humoredly ending their days in Moscow.
+
+How horrified he would have been seven years before, when he first
+arrived from abroad, had he been told that there was no need for him to
+seek or plan anything, that his rut had long been shaped, eternally
+predetermined, and that wriggle as he might, he would be what all in his
+position were. He could not have believed it! Had he not at one time
+longed with all his heart to establish a republic in Russia; then
+himself to be a Napoleon; then to be a philosopher; and then a
+strategist and the conqueror of Napoleon? Had he not seen the
+possibility of, and passionately desired, the regeneration of the sinful
+human race, and his own progress to the highest degree of perfection?
+Had he not established schools and hospitals and liberated his serfs?
+
+But instead of all that--here he was, the wealthy husband of an
+unfaithful wife, a retired gentleman-in-waiting, fond of eating and
+drinking and, as he unbuttoned his waistcoat, of abusing the government
+a bit, a member of the Moscow English Club, and a universal favorite in
+Moscow society. For a long time he could not reconcile himself to the
+idea that he was one of those same retired Moscow gentlemen-in-waiting
+he had so despised seven years before.
+
+Sometimes he consoled himself with the thought that he was only living
+this life temporarily; but then he was shocked by the thought of how
+many, like himself, had entered that life and that club temporarily,
+with all their teeth and hair, and had only left it when not a single
+tooth or hair remained.
+
+In moments of pride, when he thought of his position it seemed to him
+that he was quite different and distinct from those other retired
+gentlemen-in-waiting he had formerly despised: they were empty, stupid,
+contented fellows, satisfied with their position, "while I am still
+discontented and want to do something for mankind. But perhaps all these
+comrades of mine struggled just like me and sought something new, a path
+in life of their own, and like me were brought by force of
+circumstances, society, and race--by that elemental force against which
+man is powerless--to the condition I am in," said he to himself in
+moments of humility; and after living some time in Moscow he no longer
+despised, but began to grow fond of, to respect, and to pity his
+comrades in destiny, as he pitied himself.
+
+Pierre no longer suffered moments of despair, hypochondria, and disgust
+with life, but the malady that had formerly found expression in such
+acute attacks was driven inwards and never left him for a moment. "What
+for? Why? What is going on in the world?" he would ask himself in
+perplexity several times a day, involuntarily beginning to reflect anew
+on the meaning of the phenomena of life; but knowing by experience that
+there were no answers to these questions he made haste to turn away from
+them, and took up a book, or hurried off to the club or to Apollon
+Nikolaevich's, to exchange the gossip of the town.
+
+"Helene, who has never cared for anything but her own body and is one of
+the stupidest women in the world," thought Pierre, "is regarded by
+people as the acme of intelligence and refinement, and they pay homage
+to her. Napoleon Bonaparte was despised by all as long as he was great,
+but now that he has become a wretched comedian the Emperor Francis wants
+to offer him his daughter in an illegal marriage. The Spaniards, through
+the Catholic clergy, offer praise to God for their victory over the
+French on the fourteenth of June, and the French, also through the
+Catholic clergy, offer praise because on that same fourteenth of June
+they defeated the Spaniards. My brother Masons swear by the blood that
+they are ready to sacrifice everything for their neighbor, but they do
+not give a ruble each to the collections for the poor, and they
+intrigue, the Astraea Lodge against the Manna Seekers, and fuss about an
+authentic Scotch carpet and a charter that nobody needs, and the meaning
+of which the very man who wrote it does not understand. We all profess
+the Christian law of forgiveness of injuries and love of our neighbors,
+the law in honor of which we have built in Moscow forty times forty
+churches--but yesterday a deserter was knouted to death and a minister
+of that same law of love and forgiveness, a priest, gave the soldier a
+cross to kiss before his execution." So thought Pierre, and the whole of
+this general deception which everyone accepts, accustomed as he was to
+it, astonished him each time as if it were something new. "I understand
+the deception and confusion," he thought, "but how am I to tell them all
+that I see? I have tried, and have always found that they too in the
+depths of their souls understand it as I do, and only try not to see it.
+So it appears that it must be so! But I--what is to become of me?"
+thought he. He had the unfortunate capacity many men, especially
+Russians, have of seeing and believing in the possibility of goodness
+and truth, but of seeing the evil and falsehood of life too clearly to
+be able to take a serious part in it. Every sphere of work was
+connected, in his eyes, with evil and deception. Whatever he tried to
+be, whatever he engaged in, the evil and falsehood of it repulsed him
+and blocked every path of activity. Yet he had to live and to find
+occupation. It was too dreadful to be under the burden of these
+insoluble problems, so he abandoned himself to any distraction in order
+to forget them. He frequented every kind of society, drank much, bought
+pictures, engaged in building, and above all--read.
+
+He read, and read everything that came to hand. On coming home, while
+his valets were still taking off his things, he picked up a book and
+began to read. From reading he passed to sleeping, from sleeping to
+gossip in drawing rooms of the club, from gossip to carousals and women;
+from carousals back to gossip, reading, and wine. Drinking became more
+and more a physical and also a moral necessity. Though the doctors
+warned him that with his corpulence wine was dangerous for him, he drank
+a great deal. He was only quite at ease when having poured several
+glasses of wine mechanically into his large mouth he felt a pleasant
+warmth in his body, an amiability toward all his fellows, and a
+readiness to respond superficially to every idea without probing it
+deeply. Only after emptying a bottle or two did he feel dimly that the
+terribly tangled skein of life which previously had terrified him was
+not as dreadful as he had thought. He was always conscious of some
+aspect of that skein, as with a buzzing in his head after dinner or
+supper he chatted or listened to conversation or read. But under the
+influence of wine he said to himself: "It doesn't matter. I'll get it
+unraveled. I have a solution ready, but have no time now--I'll think it
+all out later on!" But the later on never came.
+
+In the morning, on an empty stomach, all the old questions appeared as
+insoluble and terrible as ever, and Pierre hastily picked up a book, and
+if anyone came to see him he was glad.
+
+Sometimes he remembered how he had heard that soldiers in war when
+entrenched under the enemy's fire, if they have nothing to do, try hard
+to find some occupation the more easily to bear the danger. To Pierre
+all men seemed like those soldiers, seeking refuge from life: some in
+ambition, some in cards, some in framing laws, some in women, some in
+toys, some in horses, some in politics, some in sport, some in wine, and
+some in governmental affairs. "Nothing is trivial, and nothing is
+important, it's all the same--only to save oneself from it as best one
+can," thought Pierre. "Only not to see it, that dreadful it!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+At the beginning of winter Prince Nicholas Bolkonski and his daughter
+moved to Moscow. At that time enthusiasm for the Emperor Alexander's
+regime had weakened and a patriotic and anti-French tendency prevailed
+there, and this, together with his past and his intellect and his
+originality, at once made Prince Nicholas Bolkonski an object of
+particular respect to the Moscovites and the center of the Moscow
+opposition to the government.
+
+The prince had aged very much that year. He showed marked signs of
+senility by a tendency to fall asleep, forgetfulness of quite recent
+events, remembrance of remote ones, and the childish vanity with which
+he accepted the role of head of the Moscow opposition. In spite of this
+the old man inspired in all his visitors alike a feeling of respectful
+veneration--especially of an evening when he came in to tea in his old-
+fashioned coat and powdered wig and, aroused by anyone, told his abrupt
+stories of the past, or uttered yet more abrupt and scathing criticisms
+of the present. For them all, that old-fashioned house with its gigantic
+mirrors, pre-Revolution furniture, powdered footmen, and the stern
+shrewd old man (himself a relic of the past century) with his gentle
+daughter and the pretty Frenchwoman who were reverently devoted to him
+presented a majestic and agreeable spectacle. But the visitors did not
+reflect that besides the couple of hours during which they saw their
+host, there were also twenty-two hours in the day during which the
+private and intimate life of the house continued.
+
+Latterly that private life had become very trying for Princess Mary.
+There in Moscow she was deprived of her greatest pleasures--talks with
+the pilgrims and the solitude which refreshed her at Bald Hills--and she
+had none of the advantages and pleasures of city life. She did not go
+out into society; everyone knew that her father would not let her go
+anywhere without him, and his failing health prevented his going out
+himself, so that she was not invited to dinners and evening parties. She
+had quite abandoned the hope of getting married. She saw the coldness
+and malevolence with which the old prince received and dismissed the
+young men, possible suitors, who sometimes appeared at their house. She
+had no friends: during this visit to Moscow she had been disappointed in
+the two who had been nearest to her. Mademoiselle Bourienne, with whom
+she had never been able to be quite frank, had now become unpleasant to
+her, and for various reasons Princess Mary avoided her. Julie, with whom
+she had corresponded for the last five years, was in Moscow, but proved
+to be quite alien to her when they met. Just then Julie, who by the
+death of her brothers had become one of the richest heiresses in Moscow,
+was in the full whirl of society pleasures. She was surrounded by young
+men who, she fancied, had suddenly learned to appreciate her worth.
+Julie was at that stage in the life of a society woman when she feels
+that her last chance of marrying has come and that her fate must be
+decided now or never. On Thursdays Princess Mary remembered with a
+mournful smile that she now had no one to write to, since Julie--whose
+presence gave her no pleasure was here and they met every week. Like the
+old emigre who declined to marry the lady with whom he had spent his
+evenings for years, she regretted Julie's presence and having no one to
+write to. In Moscow Princess Mary had no one to talk to, no one to whom
+to confide her sorrow, and much sorrow fell to her lot just then. The
+time for Prince Andrew's return and marriage was approaching, but his
+request to her to prepare his father for it had not been carried out; in
+fact, it seemed as if matters were quite hopeless, for at every mention
+of the young Countess Rostova the old prince (who apart from that was
+usually in a bad temper) lost control of himself. Another lately added
+sorrow arose from the lessons she gave her six year-old nephew. To her
+consternation she detected in herself in relation to little Nicholas
+some symptoms of her father's irritability. However often she told
+herself that she must not get irritable when teaching her nephew, almost
+every time that, pointer in hand, she sat down to show him the French
+alphabet, she so longed to pour her own knowledge quickly and easily
+into the child--who was already afraid that Auntie might at any moment
+get angry--that at his slightest inattention she trembled, became
+flustered and heated, raised her voice, and sometimes pulled him by the
+arm and put him in the corner. Having put him in the corner she would
+herself begin to cry over her cruel, evil nature, and little Nicholas,
+following her example, would sob, and without permission would leave his
+corner, come to her, pull her wet hands from her face, and comfort her.
+But what distressed the princess most of all was her father's
+irritability, which was always directed against her and had of late
+amounted to cruelty. Had he forced her to prostrate herself to the
+ground all night, had he beaten her or made her fetch wood or water, it
+would never have entered her mind to think her position hard; but this
+loving despot--the more cruel because he loved her and for that reason
+tormented himself and her--knew how not merely to hurt and humiliate her
+deliberately, but to show her that she was always to blame for
+everything. Of late he had exhibited a new trait that tormented Princess
+Mary more than anything else; this was his ever-increasing intimacy with
+Mademoiselle Bourienne. The idea that at the first moment of receiving
+the news of his son's intentions had occurred to him in jest--that if
+Andrew got married he himself would marry Bourienne--had evidently
+pleased him, and latterly he had persistently, and as it seemed to
+Princess Mary merely to offend her, shown special endearments to the
+companion and expressed his dissatisfaction with his daughter by
+demonstrations of love of Bourienne.
+
+One day in Moscow in Princess Mary's presence (she thought her father
+did it purposely when she was there) the old prince kissed Mademoiselle
+Bourienne's hand and, drawing her to him, embraced her affectionately.
+Princess Mary flushed and ran out of the room. A few minutes later
+Mademoiselle Bourienne came into Princess Mary's room smiling and making
+cheerful remarks in her agreeable voice. Princess Mary hastily wiped
+away her tears, went resolutely up to Mademoiselle Bourienne, and
+evidently unconscious of what she was doing began shouting in angry
+haste at the Frenchwoman, her voice breaking: "It's horrible, vile,
+inhuman, to take advantage of the weakness..." She did not finish.
+"Leave my room," she exclaimed, and burst into sobs.
+
+Next day the prince did not say a word to his daughter, but she noticed
+that at dinner he gave orders that Mademoiselle Bourienne should be
+served first. After dinner, when the footman handed coffee and from
+habit began with the princess, the prince suddenly grew furious, threw
+his stick at Philip, and instantly gave instructions to have him
+conscripted for the army.
+
+"He doesn't obey... I said it twice... and he doesn't obey! She is the
+first person in this house; she's my best friend," cried the prince.
+"And if you allow yourself," he screamed in a fury, addressing Princess
+Mary for the first time, "to forget yourself again before her as you
+dared to do yesterday, I will show you who is master in this house. Go!
+Don't let me set eyes on you; beg her pardon!"
+
+Princess Mary asked Mademoiselle Bourienne's pardon, and also her
+father's pardon for herself and for Philip the footman, who had begged
+for her intervention.
+
+At such moments something like a pride of sacrifice gathered in her
+soul. And suddenly that father whom she had judged would look for his
+spectacles in her presence, fumbling near them and not seeing them, or
+would forget something that had just occurred, or take a false step with
+his failing legs and turn to see if anyone had noticed his feebleness,
+or, worst of all, at dinner when there were no visitors to excite him
+would suddenly fall asleep, letting his napkin drop and his shaking head
+sink over his plate. "He is old and feeble, and I dare to condemn him!"
+she thought at such moments, with a feeling of revulsion against
+herself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+In 1811 there was living in Moscow a French doctor--Metivier--who had
+rapidly become the fashion. He was enormously tall, handsome, amiable as
+Frenchmen are, and was, as all Moscow said, an extraordinarily clever
+doctor. He was received in the best houses not merely as a doctor, but
+as an equal.
+
+Prince Nicholas had always ridiculed medicine, but latterly on
+Mademoiselle Bourienne's advice had allowed this doctor to visit him and
+had grown accustomed to him. Metivier came to see the prince about twice
+a week.
+
+On December 6--St. Nicholas' Day and the prince's name day--all Moscow
+came to the prince's front door but he gave orders to admit no one and
+to invite to dinner only a small number, a list of whom he gave to
+Princess Mary.
+
+Metivier, who came in the morning with his felicitations, considered it
+proper in his quality of doctor de forcer la consigne, * as he told
+Princess Mary, and went in to see the prince. It happened that on that
+morning of his name day the prince was in one of his worst moods. He had
+been going about the house all the morning finding fault with everyone
+and pretending not to understand what was said to him and not to be
+understood himself. Princess Mary well knew this mood of quiet absorbed
+querulousness, which generally culminated in a burst of rage, and she
+went about all that morning as though facing a cocked and loaded gun and
+awaited the inevitable explosion. Until the doctor's arrival the morning
+had passed off safely. After admitting the doctor, Princess Mary sat
+down with a book in the drawing room near the door through which she
+could hear all that passed in the study.
+
+
+* To force the guard.
+
+At first she heard only Metivier's voice, then her father's, then both
+voices began speaking at the same time, the door was flung open, and on
+the threshold appeared the handsome figure of the terrified Metivier
+with his shock of black hair, and the prince in his dressing gown and
+fez, his face distorted with fury and the pupils of his eyes rolled
+downwards.
+
+"You don't understand?" shouted the prince, "but I do! French spy, slave
+of Buonaparte, spy, get out of my house! Be off, I tell you..."
+
+Metivier, shrugging his shoulders, went up to Mademoiselle Bourienne who
+at the sound of shouting had run in from an adjoining room.
+
+"The prince is not very well: bile and rush of blood to the head. Keep
+calm, I will call again tomorrow," said Metivier; and putting his
+fingers to his lips he hastened away.
+
+Through the study door came the sound of slippered feet and the cry:
+"Spies, traitors, traitors everywhere! Not a moment's peace in my own
+house!"
+
+After Metivier's departure the old prince called his daughter in, and
+the whole weight of his wrath fell on her. She was to blame that a spy
+had been admitted. Had he not told her, yes, told her to make a list,
+and not to admit anyone who was not on that list? Then why was that
+scoundrel admitted? She was the cause of it all. With her, he said, he
+could not have a moment's peace and could not die quietly.
+
+"No, ma'am! We must part, we must part! Understand that, understand it!
+I cannot endure any more," he said, and left the room. Then, as if
+afraid she might find some means of consolation, he returned and trying
+to appear calm added: "And don't imagine I have said this in a moment of
+anger. I am calm. I have thought it over, and it will be carried out--we
+must part; so find some place for yourself...." But he could not
+restrain himself and with the virulence of which only one who loves is
+capable, evidently suffering himself, he shook his fists at her and
+screamed:
+
+"If only some fool would marry her!" Then he slammed the door, sent for
+Mademoiselle Bourienne, and subsided into his study.
+
+At two o'clock the six chosen guests assembled for dinner.
+
+These guests--the famous Count Rostopchin, Prince Lopukhin with his
+nephew, General Chatrov an old war comrade of the prince's, and of the
+younger generation Pierre and Boris Drubetskoy--awaited the prince in
+the drawing room.
+
+Boris, who had come to Moscow on leave a few days before, had been
+anxious to be presented to Prince Nicholas Bolkonski, and had contrived
+to ingratiate himself so well that the old prince in his case made an
+exception to the rule of not receiving bachelors in his house.
+
+The prince's house did not belong to what is known as fashionable
+society, but his little circle--though not much talked about in town--
+was one it was more flattering to be received in than any other. Boris
+had realized this the week before when the commander-in-chief in his
+presence invited Rostopchin to dinner on St. Nicholas' Day, and
+Rostopchin had replied that he could not come:
+
+"On that day I always go to pay my devotions to the relics of Prince
+Nicholas Bolkonski."
+
+"Oh, yes, yes!" replied the commander-in-chief. "How is he?..."
+
+The small group that assembled before dinner in the lofty old-fashioned
+drawing room with its old furniture resembled the solemn gathering of a
+court of justice. All were silent or talked in low tones. Prince
+Nicholas came in serious and taciturn. Princess Mary seemed even quieter
+and more diffident than usual. The guests were reluctant to address her,
+feeling that she was in no mood for their conversation. Count Rostopchin
+alone kept the conversation going, now relating the latest town news,
+and now the latest political gossip.
+
+Lopukhin and the old general occasionally took part in the conversation.
+Prince Bolkonski listened as a presiding judge receives a report, only
+now and then, silently or by a brief word, showing that he took heed of
+what was being reported to him. The tone of the conversation was such as
+indicated that no one approved of what was being done in the political
+world. Incidents were related evidently confirming the opinion that
+everything was going from bad to worse, but whether telling a story or
+giving an opinion the speaker always stopped, or was stopped, at the
+point beyond which his criticism might touch the sovereign himself.
+
+At dinner the talk turned on the latest political news: Napoleon's
+seizure of the Duke of Oldenburg's territory, and the Russian Note,
+hostile to Napoleon, which had been sent to all the European courts.
+
+"Bonaparte treats Europe as a pirate does a captured vessel," said Count
+Rostopchin, repeating a phrase he had uttered several times before. "One
+only wonders at the long-suffering or blindness of the crowned heads.
+Now the Pope's turn has come and Bonaparte doesn't scruple to depose the
+head of the Catholic Church--yet all keep silent! Our sovereign alone
+has protested against the seizure of the Duke of Oldenburg's territory,
+and even..." Count Rostopchin paused, feeling that he had reached the
+limit beyond which censure was impossible.
+
+"Other territories have been offered in exchange for the Duchy of
+Oldenburg," said Prince Bolkonski. "He shifts the Dukes about as I might
+move my serfs from Bald Hills to Bogucharovo or my Ryazan estates."
+
+"The Duke of Oldenburg bears his misfortunes with admirable strength of
+character and resignation," remarked Boris, joining in respectfully.
+
+He said this because on his journey from Petersburg he had had the honor
+of being presented to the Duke. Prince Bolkonski glanced at the young
+man as if about to say something in reply, but changed his mind,
+evidently considering him too young.
+
+"I have read our protests about the Oldenburg affair and was surprised
+how badly the Note was worded," remarked Count Rostopchin in the casual
+tone of a man dealing with a subject quite familiar to him.
+
+Pierre looked at Rostopchin with naive astonishment, not understanding
+why he should be disturbed by the bad composition of the Note.
+
+"Does it matter, Count, how the Note is worded," he asked, "so long as
+its substance is forcible?"
+
+"My dear fellow, with our five hundred thousand troops it should be easy
+to have a good style," returned Count Rostopchin.
+
+Pierre now understood the count's dissatisfaction with the wording of
+the Note.
+
+"One would have thought quill drivers enough had sprung up," remarked
+the old prince. "There in Petersburg they are always writing--not notes
+only but even new laws. My Andrew there has written a whole volume of
+laws for Russia. Nowadays they are always writing!" and he laughed
+unnaturally.
+
+There was a momentary pause in the conversation; the old general cleared
+his throat to draw attention.
+
+"Did you hear of the last event at the review in Petersburg? The figure
+cut by the new French ambassador."
+
+"Eh? Yes, I heard something: he said something awkward in His Majesty's
+presence."
+
+"His Majesty drew attention to the Grenadier division and to the march
+past," continued the general, "and it seems the ambassador took no
+notice and allowed himself to reply that: 'We in France pay no attention
+to such trifles!' The Emperor did not condescend to reply. At the next
+review, they say, the Emperor did not once deign to address him."
+
+All were silent. On this fact relating to the Emperor personally, it was
+impossible to pass any judgment.
+
+"Impudent fellows!" said the prince. "You know Metivier? I turned him
+out of my house this morning. He was here; they admitted him in spite of
+my request that they should let no one in," he went on, glancing angrily
+at his daughter.
+
+And he narrated his whole conversation with the French doctor and the
+reasons that convinced him that Metivier was a spy. Though these reasons
+were very insufficient and obscure, no one made any rejoinder.
+
+After the roast, champagne was served. The guests rose to congratulate
+the old prince. Princess Mary, too, went round to him.
+
+He gave her a cold, angry look and offered her his wrinkled, clean-
+shaven cheek to kiss. The whole expression of his face told her that he
+had not forgotten the morning's talk, that his decision remained in
+force, and only the presence of visitors hindered his speaking of it to
+her now.
+
+When they went into the drawing room where coffee was served, the old
+men sat together.
+
+Prince Nicholas grew more animated and expressed his views on the
+impending war.
+
+He said that our wars with Bonaparte would be disastrous so long as we
+sought alliances with the Germans and thrust ourselves into European
+affairs, into which we had been drawn by the Peace of Tilsit. "We ought
+not to fight either for or against Austria. Our political interests are
+all in the East, and in regard to Bonaparte the only thing is to have an
+armed frontier and a firm policy, and he will never dare to cross the
+Russian frontier, as was the case in 1807!"
+
+"How can we fight the French, Prince?" said Count Rostopchin. "Can we
+arm ourselves against our teachers and divinities? Look at our youths,
+look at our ladies! The French are our Gods: Paris is our Kingdom of
+Heaven."
+
+He began speaking louder, evidently to be heard by everyone.
+
+"French dresses, French ideas, French feelings! There now, you turned
+Metivier out by the scruff of his neck because he is a Frenchman and a
+scoundrel, but our ladies crawl after him on their knees. I went to a
+party last night, and there out of five ladies three were Roman
+Catholics and had the Pope's indulgence for doing woolwork on Sundays.
+And they themselves sit there nearly naked, like the signboards at our
+Public Baths if I may say so. Ah, when one looks at our young people,
+Prince, one would like to take Peter the Great's old cudgel out of the
+museum and belabor them in the Russian way till all the nonsense jumps
+out of them."
+
+All were silent. The old prince looked at Rostopchin with a smile and
+wagged his head approvingly.
+
+"Well, good-by, your excellency, keep well!" said Rostopchin, getting up
+with characteristic briskness and holding out his hand to the prince.
+
+"Good-bye, my dear fellow.... His words are music, I never tire of
+hearing him!" said the old prince, keeping hold of the hand and offering
+his cheek to be kissed.
+
+Following Rostopchin's example the others also rose.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+Princess Mary as she sat listening to the old men's talk and
+faultfinding, understood nothing of what she heard; she only wondered
+whether the guests had all observed her father's hostile attitude toward
+her. She did not even notice the special attentions and amiabilities
+shown her during dinner by Boris Drubetskoy, who was visiting them for
+the third time already.
+
+Princess Mary turned with absent-minded questioning look to Pierre, who
+hat in hand and with a smile on his face was the last of the guests to
+approach her after the old prince had gone out and they were left alone
+in the drawing room.
+
+"May I stay a little longer?" he said, letting his stout body sink into
+an armchair beside her.
+
+"Oh yes," she answered. "You noticed nothing?" her look asked.
+
+Pierre was in an agreeable after-dinner mood. He looked straight before
+him and smiled quietly.
+
+"Have you known that young man long, Princess?" he asked.
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Drubetskoy."
+
+"No, not long..."
+
+"Do you like him?"
+
+"Yes, he is an agreeable young man.... Why do you ask me that?" said
+Princess Mary, still thinking of that morning's conversation with her
+father.
+
+"Because I have noticed that when a young man comes on leave from
+Petersburg to Moscow it is usually with the object of marrying an
+heiress."
+
+"You have observed that?" said Princess Mary.
+
+"Yes," returned Pierre with a smile, "and this young man now manages
+matters so that where there is a wealthy heiress there he is too. I can
+read him like a book. At present he is hesitating whom to lay siege to--
+you or Mademoiselle Julie Karagina. He is very attentive to her."
+
+"He visits them?"
+
+"Yes, very often. And do you know the new way of courting?" said Pierre
+with an amused smile, evidently in that cheerful mood of good humored
+raillery for which he so often reproached himself in his diary.
+
+"No," replied Princess Mary.
+
+"To please Moscow girls nowadays one has to be melancholy. He is very
+melancholy with Mademoiselle Karagina," said Pierre.
+
+"Really?" asked Princess Mary, looking into Pierre's kindly face and
+still thinking of her own sorrow. "It would be a relief," thought she,
+"if I ventured to confide what I am feeling to someone. I should like to
+tell everything to Pierre. He is kind and generous. It would be a
+relief. He would give me advice."
+
+"Would you marry him?"
+
+"Oh, my God, Count, there are moments when I would marry anybody!" she
+cried suddenly to her own surprise and with tears in her voice. "Ah, how
+bitter it is to love someone near to you and to feel that..." she went
+on in a trembling voice, "that you can do nothing for him but grieve
+him, and to know that you cannot alter this. Then there is only one
+thing left--to go away, but where could I go?"
+
+"What is wrong? What is it, Princess?"
+
+But without finishing what she was saying, Princess Mary burst into
+tears.
+
+"I don't know what is the matter with me today. Don't take any notice--
+forget what I have said!"
+
+Pierre's gaiety vanished completely. He anxiously questioned the
+princess, asked her to speak out fully and confide her grief to him; but
+she only repeated that she begged him to forget what she had said, that
+she did not remember what she had said, and that she had no trouble
+except the one he knew of--that Prince Andrew's marriage threatened to
+cause a rupture between father and son.
+
+"Have you any news of the Rostovs?" she asked, to change the subject. "I
+was told they are coming soon. I am also expecting Andrew any day. I
+should like them to meet here."
+
+"And how does he now regard the matter?" asked Pierre, referring to the
+old prince.
+
+Princess Mary shook her head.
+
+"What is to be done? In a few months the year will be up. The thing is
+impossible. I only wish I could spare my brother the first moments. I
+wish they would come sooner. I hope to be friends with her. You have
+known them a long time," said Princess Mary. "Tell me honestly the whole
+truth: what sort of girl is she, and what do you think of her?--The real
+truth, because you know Andrew is risking so much doing this against his
+father's will that I should like to know..."
+
+An undefined instinct told Pierre that these explanations, and repeated
+requests to be told the whole truth, expressed ill-will on the princess'
+part toward her future sister-in-law and a wish that he should
+disapprove of Andrew's choice; but in reply he said what he felt rather
+than what he thought.
+
+"I don't know how to answer your question," he said, blushing without
+knowing why. "I really don't know what sort of girl she is; I can't
+analyze her at all. She is enchanting, but what makes her so I don't
+know. That is all one can say about her."
+
+Princess Mary sighed, and the expression on her face said: "Yes, that's
+what I expected and feared."
+
+"Is she clever?" she asked.
+
+Pierre considered.
+
+"I think not," he said, "and yet--yes. She does not deign to be
+clever.... Oh no, she is simply enchanting, and that is all."
+
+Princess Mary again shook her head disapprovingly.
+
+"Ah, I so long to like her! Tell her so if you see her before I do."
+
+"I hear they are expected very soon," said Pierre.
+
+Princess Mary told Pierre of her plan to become intimate with her future
+sister-in-law as soon as the Rostovs arrived and to try to accustom the
+old prince to her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+Boris had not succeeded in making a wealthy match in Petersburg, so with
+the same object in view he came to Moscow. There he wavered between the
+two richest heiresses, Julie and Princess Mary. Though Princess Mary
+despite her plainness seemed to him more attractive than Julie, he,
+without knowing why, felt awkward about paying court to her. When they
+had last met on the old prince's name day, she had answered at random
+all his attempts to talk sentimentally, evidently not listening to what
+he was saying.
+
+Julie on the contrary accepted his attentions readily, though in a
+manner peculiar to herself.
+
+She was twenty-seven. After the death of her brothers she had become
+very wealthy. She was by now decidedly plain, but thought herself not
+merely as good-looking as before but even far more attractive. She was
+confirmed in this delusion by the fact that she had become a very
+wealthy heiress and also by the fact that the older she grew the less
+dangerous she became to men, and the more freely they could associate
+with her and avail themselves of her suppers, soirees, and the animated
+company that assembled at her house, without incurring any obligation. A
+man who would have been afraid ten years before of going every day to
+the house when there was a girl of seventeen there, for fear of
+compromising her and committing himself, would now go boldly every day
+and treat her not as a marriageable girl but as a sexless acquaintance.
+
+That winter the Karagins' house was the most agreeable and hospitable in
+Moscow. In addition to the formal evening and dinner parties, a large
+company, chiefly of men, gathered there every day, supping at midnight
+and staying till three in the morning. Julie never missed a ball, a
+promenade, or a play. Her dresses were always of the latest fashion. But
+in spite of that she seemed to be disillusioned about everything and
+told everyone that she did not believe either in friendship or in love,
+or any of the joys of life, and expected peace only "yonder." She
+adopted the tone of one who has suffered a great disappointment, like a
+girl who has either lost the man she loved or been cruelly deceived by
+him. Though nothing of the kind had happened to her she was regarded in
+that light, and had even herself come to believe that she had suffered
+much in life. This melancholy, which did not prevent her amusing
+herself, did not hinder the young people who came to her house from
+passing the time pleasantly. Every visitor who came to the house paid
+his tribute to the melancholy mood of the hostess, and then amused
+himself with society gossip, dancing, intellectual games, and bouts
+rimes, which were in vogue at the Karagins'. Only a few of these young
+men, among them Boris, entered more deeply into Julie's melancholy, and
+with these she had prolonged conversations in private on the vanity of
+all worldly things, and to them she showed her albums filled with
+mournful sketches, maxims, and verses.
+
+To Boris, Julie was particularly gracious: she regretted his early
+disillusionment with life, offered him such consolation of friendship as
+she who had herself suffered so much could render, and showed him her
+album. Boris sketched two trees in the album and wrote: "Rustic trees,
+your dark branches shed gloom and melancholy upon me."
+
+On another page he drew a tomb, and wrote:
+
+
+La mort est secourable et la mort est tranquille. Ah! contre les
+douleurs il n'y a pas d'autre asile. *
+
+
+* Death gives relief and death is peaceful.
+
+Ah! from suffering there is no other refuge.
+
+Julie said this was charming
+
+"There is something so enchanting in the smile of melancholy," she said
+to Boris, repeating word for word a passage she had copied from a book.
+"It is a ray of light in the darkness, a shade between sadness and
+despair, showing the possibility of consolation."
+
+In reply Boris wrote these lines:
+
+
+Aliment de poison d'une ame trop sensible, Toi, sans qui le bonheur me
+serait impossible, Tendre melancholie, ah, viens me consoler, Viens
+calmer les tourments de ma sombre retraite, Et mele une douceur secrete
+A ces pleurs que je sens couler. *
+
+
+*Poisonous nourishment of a too sensitive soul, Thou, without whom
+happiness would for me be impossible, Tender melancholy, ah, come to
+console me, Come to calm the torments of my gloomy retreat, And mingle a
+secret sweetness With these tears that I feel to be flowing.
+
+For Boris, Julie played most doleful nocturnes on her harp. Boris read
+'Poor Liza' aloud to her, and more than once interrupted the reading
+because of the emotions that choked him. Meeting at large gatherings
+Julie and Boris looked on one another as the only souls who understood
+one another in a world of indifferent people.
+
+Anna Mikhaylovna, who often visited the Karagins, while playing cards
+with the mother made careful inquiries as to Julie's dowry (she was to
+have two estates in Penza and the Nizhegorod forests). Anna Mikhaylovna
+regarded the refined sadness that united her son to the wealthy Julie
+with emotion, and resignation to the Divine will.
+
+"You are always charming and melancholy, my dear Julie," she said to the
+daughter. "Boris says his soul finds repose at your house. He has
+suffered so many disappointments and is so sensitive," said she to the
+mother. "Ah, my dear, I can't tell you how fond I have grown of Julie
+latterly," she said to her son. "But who could help loving her? She is
+an angelic being! Ah, Boris, Boris!"--she paused. "And how I pity her
+mother," she went on; "today she showed me her accounts and letters from
+Penza (they have enormous estates there), and she, poor thing, has no
+one to help her, and they do cheat her so!"
+
+Boris smiled almost imperceptibly while listening to his mother. He
+laughed blandly at her naive diplomacy but listened to what she had to
+say, and sometimes questioned her carefully about the Penza and
+Nizhegorod estates.
+
+Julie had long been expecting a proposal from her melancholy adorer and
+was ready to accept it; but some secret feeling of repulsion for her,
+for her passionate desire to get married, for her artificiality, and a
+feeling of horror at renouncing the possibility of real love still
+restrained Boris. His leave was expiring. He spent every day and whole
+days at the Karagins', and every day on thinking the matter over told
+himself that he would propose tomorrow. But in Julie's presence, looking
+at her red face and chin (nearly always powdered), her moist eyes, and
+her expression of continual readiness to pass at once from melancholy to
+an unnatural rapture of married bliss, Boris could not utter the
+decisive words, though in imagination he had long regarded himself as
+the possessor of those Penza and Nizhegorod estates and had apportioned
+the use of the income from them. Julie saw Boris' indecision, and
+sometimes the thought occurred to her that she was repulsive to him, but
+her feminine self-deception immediately supplied her with consolation,
+and she told herself that he was only shy from love. Her melancholy,
+however, began to turn to irritability, and not long before Boris'
+departure she formed a definite plan of action. Just as Boris' leave of
+absence was expiring, Anatole Kuragin made his appearance in Moscow, and
+of course in the Karagins' drawing room, and Julie, suddenly abandoning
+her melancholy, became cheerful and very attentive to Kuragin.
+
+"My dear," said Anna Mikhaylovna to her son, "I know from a reliable
+source that Prince Vasili has sent his son to Moscow to get him married
+to Julie. I am so fond of Julie that I should be sorry for her. What do
+you think of it, my dear?"
+
+The idea of being made a fool of and of having thrown away that whole
+month of arduous melancholy service to Julie, and of seeing all the
+revenue from the Penza estates which he had already mentally apportioned
+and put to proper use fall into the hands of another, and especially
+into the hands of that idiot Anatole, pained Boris. He drove to the
+Karagins' with the firm intention of proposing. Julie met him in a gay,
+careless manner, spoke casually of how she had enjoyed yesterday's ball,
+and asked when he was leaving. Though Boris had come intentionally to
+speak of his love and therefore meant to be tender, he began speaking
+irritably of feminine inconstancy, of how easily women can turn from
+sadness to joy, and how their moods depend solely on who happens to be
+paying court to them. Julie was offended and replied that it was true
+that a woman needs variety, and the same thing over and over again would
+weary anyone.
+
+"Then I should advise you..." Boris began, wishing to sting her; but at
+that instant the galling thought occurred to him that he might have to
+leave Moscow without having accomplished his aim, and have vainly wasted
+his efforts--which was a thing he never allowed to happen.
+
+He checked himself in the middle of the sentence, lowered his eyes to
+avoid seeing her unpleasantly irritated and irresolute face, and said:
+
+"I did not come here at all to quarrel with you. On the contrary..."
+
+He glanced at her to make sure that he might go on. Her irritability had
+suddenly quite vanished, and her anxious, imploring eyes were fixed on
+him with greedy expectation. "I can always arrange so as not to see her
+often," thought Boris. "The affair has been begun and must be finished!"
+He blushed hotly, raised his eyes to hers, and said:
+
+"You know my feelings for you!"
+
+There was no need to say more: Julie's face shone with triumph and self-
+satisfaction; but she forced Boris to say all that is said on such
+occasions--that he loved her and had never loved any other woman more
+than her. She knew that for the Penza estates and Nizhegorod forests she
+could demand this, and she received what she demanded.
+
+The affianced couple, no longer alluding to trees that shed gloom and
+melancholy upon them, planned the arrangements of a splendid house in
+Petersburg, paid calls, and prepared everything for a brilliant wedding.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+At the end of January old Count Rostov went to Moscow with Natasha and
+Sonya. The countess was still unwell and unable to travel but it was
+impossible to wait for her recovery. Prince Andrew was expected in
+Moscow any day, the trousseau had to be ordered and the estate near
+Moscow had to be sold, besides which the opportunity of presenting his
+future daughter-in-law to old Prince Bolkonski while he was in Moscow
+could not be missed. The Rostovs' Moscow house had not been heated that
+winter and, as they had come only for a short time and the countess was
+not with them, the count decided to stay with Marya Dmitrievna
+Akhrosimova, who had long been pressing her hospitality on them.
+
+Late one evening the Rostovs' four sleighs drove into Marya Dmitrievna's
+courtyard in the old Konyusheny street. Marya Dmitrievna lived alone.
+She had already married off her daughter, and her sons were all in the
+service.
+
+She held herself as erect, told everyone her opinion as candidly,
+loudly, and bluntly as ever, and her whole bearing seemed a reproach to
+others for any weakness, passion, or temptation--the possibility of
+which she did not admit. From early in the morning, wearing a dressing
+jacket, she attended to her household affairs, and then she drove out:
+on holy days to church and after the service to jails and prisons on
+affairs of which she never spoke to anyone. On ordinary days, after
+dressing, she received petitioners of various classes, of whom there
+were always some. Then she had dinner, a substantial and appetizing meal
+at which there were always three or four guests; after dinner she played
+a game of boston, and at night she had the newspapers or a new book read
+to her while she knitted. She rarely made an exception and went out to
+pay visits, and then only to the most important persons in the town.
+
+She had not yet gone to bed when the Rostovs arrived and the pulley of
+the hall door squeaked from the cold as it let in the Rostovs and their
+servants. Marya Dmitrievna, with her spectacles hanging down on her nose
+and her head flung back, stood in the hall doorway looking with a stern,
+grim face at the new arrivals. One might have thought she was angry with
+the travelers and would immediately turn them out, had she not at the
+same time been giving careful instructions to the servants for the
+accommodation of the visitors and their belongings.
+
+"The count's things? Bring them here," she said, pointing to the
+portmanteaus and not greeting anyone. "The young ladies'? There to the
+left. Now what are you dawdling for?" she cried to the maids. "Get the
+samovar ready!... You've grown plumper and prettier," she remarked,
+drawing Natasha (whose cheeks were glowing from the cold) to her by the
+hood. "Foo! You are cold! Now take off your things, quick!" she shouted
+to the count who was going to kiss her hand. "You're half frozen, I'm
+sure! Bring some rum for tea!... Bonjour, Sonya dear!" she added,
+turning to Sonya and indicating by this French greeting her slightly
+contemptuous though affectionate attitude toward her.
+
+When they came in to tea, having taken off their outdoor things and
+tidied themselves up after their journey, Marya Dmitrievna kissed them
+all in due order.
+
+"I'm heartily glad you have come and are staying with me. It was high
+time," she said, giving Natasha a significant look. "The old man is here
+and his son's expected any day. You'll have to make his acquaintance.
+But we'll speak of that later on," she added, glancing at Sonya with a
+look that showed she did not want to speak of it in her presence. "Now
+listen," she said to the count. "What do you want tomorrow? Whom will
+you send for? Shinshin?" she crooked one of her fingers. "The sniveling
+Anna Mikhaylovna? That's two. She's here with her son. The son is
+getting married! Then Bezukhov, eh? He is here too, with his wife. He
+ran away from her and she came galloping after him. He dined with me on
+Wednesday. As for them"--and she pointed to the girls--"tomorrow I'll
+take them first to the Iberian shrine of the Mother of God, and then
+we'll drive to the Super-Rogue's. I suppose you'll have everything new.
+Don't judge by me: sleeves nowadays are this size! The other day young
+Princess Irina Vasilevna came to see me; she was an awful sight--looked
+as if she had put two barrels on her arms. You know not a day passes now
+without some new fashion.... And what have you to do yourself?" she
+asked the count sternly.
+
+"One thing has come on top of another: her rags to buy, and now a
+purchaser has turned up for the Moscow estate and for the house. If you
+will be so kind, I'll fix a time and go down to the estate just for a
+day, and leave my lassies with you."
+
+"All right. All right. They'll be safe with me, as safe as in Chancery!
+I'll take them where they must go, scold them a bit, and pet them a
+bit," said Marya Dmitrievna, touching her goddaughter and favorite,
+Natasha, on the cheek with her large hand.
+
+Next morning Marya Dmitrievna took the young ladies to the Iberian
+shrine of the Mother of God and to Madame Suppert-Roguet, who was so
+afraid of Marya Dmitrievna that she always let her have costumes at a
+loss merely to get rid of her. Marya Dmitrievna ordered almost the whole
+trousseau. When they got home she turned everybody out of the room
+except Natasha, and then called her pet to her armchair.
+
+"Well, now we'll talk. I congratulate you on your betrothed. You've
+hooked a fine fellow! I am glad for your sake and I've known him since
+he was so high." She held her hand a couple of feet from the ground.
+Natasha blushed happily. "I like him and all his family. Now listen! You
+know that old Prince Nicholas much dislikes his son's marrying. The old
+fellow's crotchety! Of course Prince Andrew is not a child and can shift
+without him, but it's not nice to enter a family against a father's
+will. One wants to do it peacefully and lovingly. You're a clever girl
+and you'll know how to manage. Be kind, and use your wits. Then all will
+be well."
+
+Natasha remained silent, from shyness Marya Dmitrievna supposed, but
+really because she disliked anyone interfering in what touched her love
+of Prince Andrew, which seemed to her so apart from all human affairs
+that no one could understand it. She loved and knew Prince Andrew, he
+loved her only, and was to come one of these days and take her. She
+wanted nothing more.
+
+"You see I have known him a long time and am also fond of Mary, your
+future sister-in-law. 'Husbands' sisters bring up blisters,' but this
+one wouldn't hurt a fly. She has asked me to bring you two together.
+Tomorrow you'll go with your father to see her. Be very nice and
+affectionate to her: you're younger than she. When he comes, he'll find
+you already know his sister and father and are liked by them. Am I right
+or not? Won't that be best?"
+
+"Yes, it will," Natasha answered reluctantly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+Next day, by Marya Dmitrievna's advice, Count Rostov took Natasha to
+call on Prince Nicholas Bolkonski. The count did not set out cheerfully
+on this visit, at heart he felt afraid. He well remembered the last
+interview he had had with the old prince at the time of the enrollment,
+when in reply to an invitation to dinner he had had to listen to an
+angry reprimand for not having provided his full quota of men. Natasha,
+on the other hand, having put on her best gown, was in the highest
+spirits. "They can't help liking me," she thought. "Everybody always has
+liked me, and I am so willing to do anything they wish, so ready to be
+fond of him--for being his father--and of her--for being his sister--
+that there is no reason for them not to like me..."
+
+They drove up to the gloomy old house on the Vozdvizhenka and entered
+the vestibule.
+
+"Well, the Lord have mercy on us!" said the count, half in jest, half in
+earnest; but Natasha noticed that her father was flurried on entering
+the anteroom and inquired timidly and softly whether the prince and
+princess were at home.
+
+When they had been announced a perturbation was noticeable among the
+servants. The footman who had gone to announce them was stopped by
+another in the large hall and they whispered to one another. Then a
+maidservant ran into the hall and hurriedly said something, mentioning
+the princess. At last an old, cross looking footman came and announced
+to the Rostovs that the prince was not receiving, but that the princess
+begged them to walk up. The first person who came to meet the visitors
+was Mademoiselle Bourienne. She greeted the father and daughter with
+special politeness and showed them to the princess' room. The princess,
+looking excited and nervous, her face flushed in patches, ran in to meet
+the visitors, treading heavily, and vainly trying to appear cordial and
+at ease. From the first glance Princess Mary did not like Natasha. She
+thought her too fashionably dressed, frivolously gay and vain. She did
+not at all realize that before having seen her future sister-in-law she
+was prejudiced against her by involuntary envy of her beauty, youth, and
+happiness, as well as by jealousy of her brother's love for her. Apart
+from this insuperable antipathy to her, Princess Mary was agitated just
+then because on the Rostovs' being announced, the old prince had shouted
+that he did not wish to see them, that Princess Mary might do so if she
+chose, but they were not to be admitted to him. She had decided to
+receive them, but feared lest the prince might at any moment indulge in
+some freak, as he seemed much upset by the Rostovs' visit.
+
+"There, my dear princess, I've brought you my songstress," said the
+count, bowing and looking round uneasily as if afraid the old prince
+might appear. "I am so glad you should get to know one another... very
+sorry the prince is still ailing," and after a few more commonplace
+remarks he rose. "If you'll allow me to leave my Natasha in your hands
+for a quarter of an hour, Princess, I'll drive round to see Anna
+Semenovna, it's quite near in the Dogs' Square, and then I'll come back
+for her."
+
+The count had devised this diplomatic ruse (as he afterwards told his
+daughter) to give the future sisters-in-law an opportunity to talk to
+one another freely, but another motive was to avoid the danger of
+encountering the old prince, of whom he was afraid. He did not mention
+this to his daughter, but Natasha noticed her father's nervousness and
+anxiety and felt mortified by it. She blushed for him, grew still
+angrier at having blushed, and looked at the princess with a bold and
+defiant expression which said that she was not afraid of anybody. The
+princess told the count that she would be delighted, and only begged him
+to stay longer at Anna Semenovna's, and he departed.
+
+Despite the uneasy glances thrown at her by Princess Mary--who wished to
+have a tête-à-tête with Natasha--Mademoiselle Bourienne remained in the
+room and persistently talked about Moscow amusements and theaters.
+Natasha felt offended by the hesitation she had noticed in the anteroom,
+by her father's nervousness, and by the unnatural manner of the princess
+who--she thought--was making a favor of receiving her, and so everything
+displeased her. She did not like Princess Mary, whom she thought very
+plain, affected, and dry. Natasha suddenly shrank into herself and
+involuntarily assumed an offhand air which alienated Princess Mary still
+more. After five minutes of irksome, constrained conversation, they
+heard the sound of slippered feet rapidly approaching. Princess Mary
+looked frightened.
+
+The door opened and the old prince, in a dressing gown and a white
+nightcap, came in.
+
+"Ah, madam!" he began. "Madam, Countess... Countess Rostova, if I am not
+mistaken... I beg you to excuse me, to excuse me... I did not know,
+madam. God is my witness, I did not know you had honored us with a
+visit, and I came in such a costume only to see my daughter. I beg you
+to excuse me... God is my witness, I didn't know-" he repeated,
+stressing the word "God" so unnaturally and so unpleasantly that
+Princess Mary stood with downcast eyes not daring to look either at her
+father or at Natasha.
+
+Nor did the latter, having risen and curtsied, know what to do.
+Mademoiselle Bourienne alone smiled agreeably.
+
+"I beg you to excuse me, excuse me! God is my witness, I did not know,"
+muttered the old man, and after looking Natasha over from head to foot
+he went out.
+
+Mademoiselle Bourienne was the first to recover herself after this
+apparition and began speaking about the prince's indisposition. Natasha
+and Princess Mary looked at one another in silence, and the longer they
+did so without saying what they wanted to say, the greater grew their
+antipathy to one another.
+
+When the count returned, Natasha was impolitely pleased and hastened to
+get away: at that moment she hated the stiff, elderly princess, who
+could place her in such an embarrassing position and had spent half an
+hour with her without once mentioning Prince Andrew. "I couldn't begin
+talking about him in the presence of that Frenchwoman," thought Natasha.
+The same thought was meanwhile tormenting Princess Mary. She knew what
+she ought to have said to Natasha, but she had been unable to say it
+because Mademoiselle Bourienne was in the way, and because, without
+knowing why, she felt it very difficult to speak of the marriage. When
+the count was already leaving the room, Princess Mary went up hurriedly
+to Natasha, took her by the hand, and said with a deep sigh:
+
+"Wait, I must..."
+
+Natasha glanced at her ironically without knowing why.
+
+"Dear Natalie," said Princess Mary, "I want you to know that I am glad
+my brother has found happiness...."
+
+She paused, feeling that she was not telling the truth. Natasha noticed
+this and guessed its reason.
+
+"I think, Princess, it is not convenient to speak of that now," she said
+with external dignity and coldness, though she felt the tears choking
+her.
+
+"What have I said and what have I done?" thought she, as soon as she was
+out of the room.
+
+They waited a long time for Natasha to come to dinner that day. She sat
+in her room crying like a child, blowing her nose and sobbing. Sonya
+stood beside her, kissing her hair.
+
+"Natasha, what is it about?" she asked. "What do they matter to you? It
+will all pass, Natasha."
+
+"But if you only knew how offensive it was... as if I..."
+
+"Don't talk about it, Natasha. It wasn't your fault so why should you
+mind? Kiss me," said Sonya.
+
+Natasha raised her head and, kissing her friend on the lips, pressed her
+wet face against her.
+
+"I can't tell you, I don't know. No one's to blame," said Natasha--"It's
+my fault. But it all hurts terribly. Oh, why doesn't he come?..."
+
+She came in to dinner with red eyes. Marya Dmitrievna, who knew how the
+prince had received the Rostovs, pretended not to notice how upset
+Natasha was and jested resolutely and loudly at table with the count and
+the other guests.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+That evening the Rostovs went to the Opera, for which Marya Dmitrievna
+had taken a box.
+
+Natasha did not want to go, but could not refuse Marya Dmitrievna's kind
+offer which was intended expressly for her. When she came ready dressed
+into the ballroom to await her father, and looking in the large mirror
+there saw that she was pretty, very pretty, she felt even more sad, but
+it was a sweet, tender sadness.
+
+"O God, if he were here now I would not behave as I did then, but
+differently. I would not be silly and afraid of things, I would simply
+embrace him, cling to him, and make him look at me with those searching
+inquiring eyes with which he has so often looked at me, and then I would
+make him laugh as he used to laugh. And his eyes--how I see those eyes!"
+thought Natasha. "And what do his father and sister matter to me? I love
+him alone, him, him, with that face and those eyes, with his smile,
+manly and yet childlike.... No, I had better not think of him; not think
+of him but forget him, quite forget him for the present. I can't bear
+this waiting and I shall cry in a minute!" and she turned away from the
+glass, making an effort not to cry. "And how can Sonya love Nicholas so
+calmly and quietly and wait so long and so patiently?" thought she,
+looking at Sonya, who also came in quite ready, with a fan in her hand.
+"No, she's altogether different. I can't!"
+
+Natasha at that moment felt so softened and tender that it was not
+enough for her to love and know she was beloved, she wanted now, at
+once, to embrace the man she loved, to speak and hear from him words of
+love such as filled her heart. While she sat in the carriage beside her
+father, pensively watching the lights of the street lamps flickering on
+the frozen window, she felt still sadder and more in love, and forgot
+where she was going and with whom. Having fallen into the line of
+carriages, the Rostovs' carriage drove up to the theater, its wheels
+squeaking over the snow. Natasha and Sonya, holding up their dresses,
+jumped out quickly. The count got out helped by the footmen, and,
+passing among men and women who were entering and the program sellers,
+they all three went along the corridor to the first row of boxes.
+Through the closed doors the music was already audible.
+
+"Natasha, your hair!..." whispered Sonya.
+
+An attendant deferentially and quickly slipped before the ladies and
+opened the door of their box. The music sounded louder and through the
+door rows of brightly lit boxes in which ladies sat with bare arms and
+shoulders, and noisy stalls brilliant with uniforms, glittered before
+their eyes. A lady entering the next box shot a glance of feminine envy
+at Natasha. The curtain had not yet risen and the overture was being
+played. Natasha, smoothing her gown, went in with Sonya and sat down,
+scanning the brilliant tiers of boxes opposite. A sensation she had not
+experienced for a long time--that of hundreds of eyes looking at her
+bare arms and neck--suddenly affected her both agreeably and
+disagreeably and called up a whole crowd of memories, desires and
+emotions associated with that feeling.
+
+The two remarkably pretty girls, Natasha and Sonya, with Count Rostov
+who had not been seen in Moscow for a long time, attracted general
+attention. Moreover, everybody knew vaguely of Natasha's engagement to
+Prince Andrew, and knew that the Rostovs had lived in the country ever
+since, and all looked with curiosity at a fiancee who was making one of
+the best matches in Russia.
+
+Natasha's looks, as everyone told her, had improved in the country, and
+that evening thanks to her agitation she was particularly pretty. She
+struck those who saw her by her fullness of life and beauty, combined
+with her indifference to everything about her. Her black eyes looked at
+the crowd without seeking anyone, and her delicate arm, bare to above
+the elbow, lay on the velvet edge of the box, while, evidently
+unconsciously, she opened and closed her hand in time to the music,
+crumpling her program. "Look, there's Alenina," said Sonya, "with her
+mother, isn't it?"
+
+"Dear me, Michael Kirilovich has grown still stouter!" remarked the
+count.
+
+"Look at our Anna Mikhaylovna--what a headdress she has on!"
+
+"The Karagins, Julie--and Boris with them. One can see at once that
+they're engaged...."
+
+"Drubetskoy has proposed?"
+
+"Oh yes, I heard it today," said Shinshin, coming into the Rostovs' box.
+
+Natasha looked in the direction in which her father's eyes were turned
+and saw Julie sitting beside her mother with a happy look on her face
+and a string of pearls round her thick red neck--which Natasha knew was
+covered with powder. Behind them, wearing a smile and leaning over with
+an ear to Julie's mouth, was Boris' handsome smoothly brushed head. He
+looked at the Rostovs from under his brows and said something, smiling,
+to his betrothed.
+
+"They are talking about us, about me and him!" thought Natasha. "And he
+no doubt is calming her jealousy of me. They needn't trouble themselves!
+If only they knew how little I am concerned about any of them."
+
+Behind them sat Anna Mikhaylovna wearing a green headdress and with a
+happy look of resignation to the will of God on her face. Their box was
+pervaded by that atmosphere of an affianced couple which Natasha knew so
+well and liked so much. She turned away and suddenly remembered all that
+had been so humiliating in her morning's visit.
+
+"What right has he not to wish to receive me into his family? Oh, better
+not think of it--not till he comes back!" she told herself, and began
+looking at the faces, some strange and some familiar, in the stalls. In
+the front, in the very center, leaning back against the orchestra rail,
+stood Dolokhov in a Persian dress, his curly hair brushed up into a huge
+shock. He stood in full view of the audience, well aware that he was
+attracting everyone's attention, yet as much at ease as though he were
+in his own room. Around him thronged Moscow's most brilliant young men,
+whom he evidently dominated.
+
+The count, laughing, nudged the blushing Sonya and pointed to her former
+adorer.
+
+"Do you recognize him?" said he. "And where has he sprung from?" he
+asked, turning to Shinshin. "Didn't he vanish somewhere?"
+
+"He did," replied Shinshin. "He was in the Caucasus and ran away from
+there. They say he has been acting as minister to some ruling prince in
+Persia, where he killed the Shah's brother. Now all the Moscow ladies
+are mad about him! It's 'Dolokhov the Persian' that does it! We never
+hear a word but Dolokhov is mentioned. They swear by him, they offer him
+to you as they would a dish of choice sterlet. Dolokhov and Anatole
+Kuragin have turned all our ladies' heads."
+
+A tall, beautiful woman with a mass of plaited hair and much exposed
+plump white shoulders and neck, round which she wore a double string of
+large pearls, entered the adjoining box rustling her heavy silk dress
+and took a long time settling into her place.
+
+Natasha involuntarily gazed at that neck, those shoulders, and pearls
+and coiffure, and admired the beauty of the shoulders and the pearls.
+While Natasha was fixing her gaze on her for the second time the lady
+looked round and, meeting the count's eyes, nodded to him and smiled.
+She was the Countess Bezukhova, Pierre's wife, and the count, who knew
+everyone in society, leaned over and spoke to her.
+
+"Have you been here long, Countess?" he inquired. "I'll call, I'll call
+to kiss your hand. I'm here on business and have brought my girls with
+me. They say Semenova acts marvelously. Count Pierre never used to
+forget us. Is he here?"
+
+"Yes, he meant to look in," answered Helene, and glanced attentively at
+Natasha.
+
+Count Rostov resumed his seat.
+
+"Handsome, isn't she?" he whispered to Natasha.
+
+"Wonderful!" answered Natasha. "She's a woman one could easily fall in
+love with."
+
+Just then the last chords of the overture were heard and the conductor
+tapped with his stick. Some latecomers took their seats in the stalls,
+and the curtain rose.
+
+As soon as it rose everyone in the boxes and stalls became silent, and
+all the men, old and young, in uniform and evening dress, and all the
+women with gems on their bare flesh, turned their whole attention with
+eager curiosity to the stage. Natasha too began to look at it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+The floor of the stage consisted of smooth boards, at the sides was some
+painted cardboard representing trees, and at the back was a cloth
+stretched over boards. In the center of the stage sat some girls in red
+bodices and white skirts. One very fat girl in a white silk dress sat
+apart on a low bench, to the back of which a piece of green cardboard
+was glued. They all sang something. When they had finished their song
+the girl in white went up to the prompter's box and a man with tight
+silk trousers over his stout legs, and holding a plume and a dagger,
+went up to her and began singing, waving his arms about.
+
+First the man in the tight trousers sang alone, then she sang, then they
+both paused while the orchestra played and the man fingered the hand of
+the girl in white, obviously awaiting the beat to start singing with
+her. They sang together and everyone in the theater began clapping and
+shouting, while the man and woman on the stage--who represented lovers--
+began smiling, spreading out their arms, and bowing.
+
+After her life in the country, and in her present serious mood, all this
+seemed grotesque and amazing to Natasha. She could not follow the opera
+nor even listen to the music; she saw only the painted cardboard and the
+queerly dressed men and women who moved, spoke, and sang so strangely in
+that brilliant light. She knew what it was all meant to represent, but
+it was so pretentiously false and unnatural that she first felt ashamed
+for the actors and then amused at them. She looked at the faces of the
+audience, seeking in them the same sense of ridicule and perplexity she
+herself experienced, but they all seemed attentive to what was happening
+on the stage, and expressed delight which to Natasha seemed feigned. "I
+suppose it has to be like this!" she thought. She kept looking round in
+turn at the rows of pomaded heads in the stalls and then at the seminude
+women in the boxes, especially at Helene in the next box, who--
+apparently quite unclothed--sat with a quiet tranquil smile, not taking
+her eyes off the stage. And feeling the bright light that flooded the
+whole place and the warm air heated by the crowd, Natasha little by
+little began to pass into a state of intoxication she had not
+experienced for a long while. She did not realize who and where she was,
+nor what was going on before her. As she looked and thought, the
+strangest fancies unexpectedly and disconnectedly passed through her
+mind: the idea occurred to her of jumping onto the edge of the box and
+singing the air the actress was singing, then she wished to touch with
+her fan an old gentleman sitting not far from her, then to lean over to
+Helene and tickle her.
+
+At a moment when all was quiet before the commencement of a song, a door
+leading to the stalls on the side nearest the Rostovs' box creaked, and
+the steps of a belated arrival were heard. "There's Kuragin!" whispered
+Shinshin. Countess Bezukhova turned smiling to the newcomer, and
+Natasha, following the direction of that look, saw an exceptionally
+handsome adjutant approaching their box with a self-assured yet
+courteous bearing. This was Anatole Kuragin whom she had seen and
+noticed long ago at the ball in Petersburg. He was now in an adjutant's
+uniform with one epaulet and a shoulder knot. He moved with a restrained
+swagger which would have been ridiculous had he not been so good-looking
+and had his handsome face not worn such an expression of good-humored
+complacency and gaiety. Though the performance was proceeding, he walked
+deliberately down the carpeted gangway, his sword and spurs slightly
+jingling and his handsome perfumed head held high. Having looked at
+Natasha he approached his sister, laid his well gloved hand on the edge
+of her box, nodded to her, and leaning forward asked a question, with a
+motion toward Natasha.
+
+"Mais charmante!" said he, evidently referring to Natasha, who did not
+exactly hear his words but understood them from the movement of his
+lips. Then he took his place in the first row of the stalls and sat down
+beside Dolokhov, nudging with his elbow in a friendly and offhand way
+that Dolokhov whom others treated so fawningly. He winked at him gaily,
+smiled, and rested his foot against the orchestra screen.
+
+"How like the brother is to the sister," remarked the count. "And how
+handsome they both are!"
+
+Shinshin, lowering his voice, began to tell the count of some intrigue
+of Kuragin's in Moscow, and Natasha tried to overhear it just because he
+had said she was "charmante."
+
+The first act was over. In the stalls everyone began moving about, going
+out and coming in.
+
+Boris came to the Rostovs' box, received their congratulations very
+simply, and raising his eyebrows with an absent-minded smile conveyed to
+Natasha and Sonya his fiancee's invitation to her wedding, and went
+away. Natasha with a gay, coquettish smile talked to him, and
+congratulated on his approaching wedding that same Boris with whom she
+had formerly been in love. In the state of intoxication she was in,
+everything seemed simple and natural.
+
+The scantily clad Helene smiled at everyone in the same way, and Natasha
+gave Boris a similar smile.
+
+Helene's box was filled and surrounded from the stalls by the most
+distinguished and intellectual men, who seemed to vie with one another
+in their wish to let everyone see that they knew her.
+
+During the whole of that entr'acte Kuragin stood with Dolokhov in front
+of the orchestra partition, looking at the Rostovs' box. Natasha knew he
+was talking about her and this afforded her pleasure. She even turned so
+that he should see her profile in what she thought was its most becoming
+aspect. Before the beginning of the second act Pierre appeared in the
+stalls. The Rostovs had not seen him since their arrival. His face
+looked sad, and he had grown still stouter since Natasha last saw him.
+He passed up to the front rows, not noticing anyone. Anatole went up to
+him and began speaking to him, looking at and indicating the Rostovs'
+box. On seeing Natasha Pierre grew animated and, hastily passing between
+the rows, came toward their box. When he got there he leaned on his
+elbows and, smiling, talked to her for a long time. While conversing
+with Pierre, Natasha heard a man's voice in Countess Bezukhova's box and
+something told her it was Kuragin. She turned and their eyes met. Almost
+smiling, he gazed straight into her eyes with such an enraptured
+caressing look that it seemed strange to be so near him, to look at him
+like that, to be so sure he admired her, and not to be acquainted with
+him.
+
+In the second act there was scenery representing tombstones, there was a
+round hole in the canvas to represent the moon, shades were raised over
+the footlights, and from horns and contrabass came deep notes while many
+people appeared from right and left wearing black cloaks and holding
+things like daggers in their hands. They began waving their arms. Then
+some other people ran in and began dragging away the maiden who had been
+in white and was now in light blue. They did not drag her away at once,
+but sang with her for a long time and then at last dragged her off, and
+behind the scenes something metallic was struck three times and everyone
+knelt down and sang a prayer. All these things were repeatedly
+interrupted by the enthusiastic shouts of the audience.
+
+During this act every time Natasha looked toward the stalls she saw
+Anatole Kuragin with an arm thrown across the back of his chair, staring
+at her. She was pleased to see that he was captivated by her and it did
+not occur to her that there was anything wrong in it.
+
+When the second act was over Countess Bezukhova rose, turned to the
+Rostovs' box--her whole bosom completely exposed--beckoned the old count
+with a gloved finger, and paying no attention to those who had entered
+her box began talking to him with an amiable smile.
+
+"Do make me acquainted with your charming daughters," said she. "The
+whole town is singing their praises and I don't even know them!"
+
+Natasha rose and curtsied to the splendid countess. She was so pleased
+by praise from this brilliant beauty that she blushed with pleasure.
+
+"I want to become a Moscovite too, now," said Helene. "How is it you're
+not ashamed to bury such pearls in the country?"
+
+Countess Bezukhova quite deserved her reputation of being a fascinating
+woman. She could say what she did not think--especially what was
+flattering--quite simply and naturally.
+
+"Dear count, you must let me look after your daughters! Though I am not
+staying here long this time--nor are you--I will try to amuse them. I
+have already heard much of you in Petersburg and wanted to get to know
+you," said she to Natasha with her stereotyped and lovely smile. "I had
+heard about you from my page, Drubetskoy. Have you heard he is getting
+married? And also from my husband's friend Bolkonski, Prince Andrew
+Bolkonski," she went on with special emphasis, implying that she knew of
+his relation to Natasha. To get better acquainted she asked that one of
+the young ladies should come into her box for the rest of the
+performance, and Natasha moved over to it.
+
+The scene of the third act represented a palace in which many candles
+were burning and pictures of knights with short beards hung on the
+walls. In the middle stood what were probably a king and a queen. The
+king waved his right arm and, evidently nervous, sang something badly
+and sat down on a crimson throne. The maiden who had been first in white
+and then in light blue, now wore only a smock, and stood beside the
+throne with her hair down. She sang something mournfully, addressing the
+queen, but the king waved his arm severely, and men and women with bare
+legs came in from both sides and began dancing all together. Then the
+violins played very shrilly and merrily and one of the women with thick
+bare legs and thin arms, separating from the others, went behind the
+wings, adjusted her bodice, returned to the middle of the stage, and
+began jumping and striking one foot rapidly against the other. In the
+stalls everyone clapped and shouted "bravo!" Then one of the men went
+into a corner of the stage. The cymbals and horns in the orchestra
+struck up more loudly, and this man with bare legs jumped very high and
+waved his feet about very rapidly. (He was Duport, who received sixty
+thousand rubles a year for this art.) Everybody in the stalls, boxes,
+and galleries began clapping and shouting with all their might, and the
+man stopped and began smiling and bowing to all sides. Then other men
+and women danced with bare legs. Then the king again shouted to the
+sound of music, and they all began singing. But suddenly a storm came
+on, chromatic scales and diminished sevenths were heard in the
+orchestra, everyone ran off, again dragging one of their number away,
+and the curtain dropped. Once more there was a terrible noise and
+clatter among the audience, and with rapturous faces everyone began
+shouting: "Duport! Duport! Duport!" Natasha no longer thought this
+strange. She looked about with pleasure, smiling joyfully.
+
+"Isn't Duport delightful?" Helene asked her.
+
+"Oh, yes," replied Natasha.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+During the entr'acte a whiff of cold air came into Helene's box, the
+door opened, and Anatole entered, stooping and trying not to brush
+against anyone.
+
+"Let me introduce my brother to you," said Helene, her eyes shifting
+uneasily from Natasha to Anatole.
+
+Natasha turned her pretty little head toward the elegant young officer
+and smiled at him over her bare shoulder. Anatole, who was as handsome
+at close quarters as at a distance, sat down beside her and told her he
+had long wished to have this happiness--ever since the Naryshkins' ball
+in fact, at which he had had the well-remembered pleasure of seeing her.
+Kuragin was much more sensible and simple with women than among men. He
+talked boldly and naturally, and Natasha was strangely and agreeably
+struck by the fact that there was nothing formidable in this man about
+whom there was so much talk, but that on the contrary his smile was most
+naive, cheerful, and good-natured.
+
+Kuragin asked her opinion of the performance and told her how at a
+previous performance Semenova had fallen down on the stage.
+
+"And do you know, Countess," he said, suddenly addressing her as an old,
+familiar acquaintance, "we are getting up a costume tournament; you
+ought to take part in it! It will be great fun. We shall all meet at the
+Karagins'! Please come! No! Really, eh?" said he.
+
+While saying this he never removed his smiling eyes from her face, her
+neck, and her bare arms. Natasha knew for certain that he was enraptured
+by her. This pleased her, yet his presence made her feel constrained and
+oppressed. When she was not looking at him she felt that he was looking
+at her shoulders, and she involuntarily caught his eye so that he should
+look into hers rather than this. But looking into his eyes she was
+frightened, realizing that there was not that barrier of modesty she had
+always felt between herself and other men. She did not know how it was
+that within five minutes she had come to feel herself terribly near to
+this man. When she turned away she feared he might seize her from behind
+by her bare arm and kiss her on the neck. They spoke of most ordinary
+things, yet she felt that they were closer to one another than she had
+ever been to any man. Natasha kept turning to Helene and to her father,
+as if asking what it all meant, but Helene was engaged in conversation
+with a general and did not answer her look, and her father's eyes said
+nothing but what they always said: "Having a good time? Well, I'm glad
+of it!"
+
+During one of these moments of awkward silence when Anatole's prominent
+eyes were gazing calmly and fixedly at her, Natasha, to break the
+silence, asked him how he liked Moscow. She asked the question and
+blushed. She felt all the time that by talking to him she was doing
+something improper. Anatole smiled as though to encourage her.
+
+"At first I did not like it much, because what makes a town pleasant ce
+sont les jolies femmes, * isn't that so? But now I like it very much
+indeed," he said, looking at her significantly. "You'll come to the
+costume tournament, Countess? Do come!" and putting out his hand to her
+bouquet and dropping his voice, he added, "You will be the prettiest
+there. Do come, dear countess, and give me this flower as a pledge!"
+
+
+* Are the pretty women.
+
+Natasha did not understand what he was saying any more than he did
+himself, but she felt that his incomprehensible words had an improper
+intention. She did not know what to say and turned away as if she had
+not heard his remark. But as soon as she had turned away she felt that
+he was there, behind, so close behind her.
+
+"How is he now? Confused? Angry? Ought I to put it right?" she asked
+herself, and she could not refrain from turning round. She looked
+straight into his eyes, and his nearness, self-assurance, and the good-
+natured tenderness of his smile vanquished her. She smiled just as he
+was doing, gazing straight into his eyes. And again she felt with horror
+that no barrier lay between him and her.
+
+The curtain rose again. Anatole left the box, serene and gay. Natasha
+went back to her father in the other box, now quite submissive to the
+world she found herself in. All that was going on before her now seemed
+quite natural, but on the other hand all her previous thoughts of her
+betrothed, of Princess Mary, or of life in the country did not once
+recur to her mind and were as if belonging to a remote past.
+
+In the fourth act there was some sort of devil who sang waving his arm
+about, till the boards were withdrawn from under him and he disappeared
+down below. That was the only part of the fourth act that Natasha saw.
+She felt agitated and tormented, and the cause of this was Kuragin whom
+she could not help watching. As they were leaving the theater Anatole
+came up to them, called their carriage, and helped them in. As he was
+putting Natasha in he pressed her arm above the elbow. Agitated and
+flushed she turned round. He was looking at her with glittering eyes,
+smiling tenderly.
+
+Only after she had reached home was Natasha able clearly to think over
+what had happened to her, and suddenly remembering Prince Andrew she was
+horrified, and at tea to which all had sat down after the opera, she
+gave a loud exclamation, flushed, and ran out of the room.
+
+"O God! I am lost!" she said to herself. "How could I let him?" She sat
+for a long time hiding her flushed face in her hands trying to realize
+what had happened to her, but was unable either to understand what had
+happened or what she felt. Everything seemed dark, obscure, and
+terrible. There in that enormous, illuminated theater where the bare-
+legged Duport, in a tinsel-decorated jacket, jumped about to the music
+on wet boards, and young girls and old men, and the nearly naked Helene
+with her proud, calm smile, rapturously cried "bravo!"--there in the
+presence of that Helene it had all seemed clear and simple; but now,
+alone by herself, it was incomprehensible. "What is it? What was that
+terror I felt of him? What is this gnawing of conscience I am feeling
+now?" she thought.
+
+Only to the old countess at night in bed could Natasha have told all she
+was feeling. She knew that Sonya with her severe and simple views would
+either not understand it at all or would be horrified at such a
+confession. So Natasha tried to solve what was torturing her by herself.
+
+"Am I spoiled for Andrew's love or not?" she asked herself, and with
+soothing irony replied: "What a fool I am to ask that! What did happen
+to me? Nothing! I have done nothing, I didn't lead him on at all. Nobody
+will know and I shall never see him again," she told herself. "So it is
+plain that nothing has happened and there is nothing to repent of, and
+Andrew can love me still. But why 'still?' O God, why isn't he here?"
+Natasha quieted herself for a moment, but again some instinct told her
+that though all this was true, and though nothing had happened, yet the
+former purity of her love for Prince Andrew had perished. And again in
+imagination she went over her whole conversation with Kuragin, and again
+saw the face, gestures, and tender smile of that bold handsome man when
+he pressed her arm.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+Anatole Kuragin was staying in Moscow because his father had sent him
+away from Petersburg, where he had been spending twenty thousand rubles
+a year in cash, besides running up debts for as much more, which his
+creditors demanded from his father.
+
+His father announced to him that he would now pay half his debts for the
+last time, but only on condition that he went to Moscow as adjutant to
+the commander-in-chief--a post his father had procured for him--and
+would at last try to make a good match there. He indicated to him
+Princess Mary and Julie Karagina.
+
+Anatole consented and went to Moscow, where he put up at Pierre's house.
+Pierre received him unwillingly at first, but got used to him after a
+while, sometimes even accompanied him on his carousals, and gave him
+money under the guise of loans.
+
+As Shinshin had remarked, from the time of his arrival Anatole had
+turned the heads of the Moscow ladies, especially by the fact that he
+slighted them and plainly preferred the gypsy girls and French
+actresses--with the chief of whom, Mademoiselle George, he was said to
+be on intimate relations. He had never missed a carousal at Danilov's or
+other Moscow revelers', drank whole nights through, outvying everyone
+else, and was at all the balls and parties of the best society. There
+was talk of his intrigues with some of the ladies, and he flirted with a
+few of them at the balls. But he did not run after the unmarried girls,
+especially the rich heiresses who were most of them plain. There was a
+special reason for this, as he had got married two years before--a fact
+known only to his most intimate friends. At that time while with his
+regiment in Poland, a Polish landowner of small means had forced him to
+marry his daughter. Anatole had very soon abandoned his wife and, for a
+payment which he agreed to send to his father-in-law, had arranged to be
+free to pass himself off as a bachelor.
+
+Anatole was always content with his position, with himself, and with
+others. He was instinctively and thoroughly convinced that it was
+impossible for him to live otherwise than as he did and that he had
+never in his life done anything base. He was incapable of considering
+how his actions might affect others or what the consequences of this or
+that action of his might be. He was convinced that, as a duck is so made
+that it must live in water, so God had made him such that he must spend
+thirty thousand rubles a year and always occupy a prominent position in
+society. He believed this so firmly that others, looking at him, were
+persuaded of it too and did not refuse him either a leading place in
+society or money, which he borrowed from anyone and everyone and
+evidently would not repay.
+
+He was not a gambler, at any rate he did not care about winning. He was
+not vain. He did not mind what people thought of him. Still less could
+he be accused of ambition. More than once he had vexed his father by
+spoiling his own career, and he laughed at distinctions of all kinds. He
+was not mean, and did not refuse anyone who asked of him. All he cared
+about was gaiety and women, and as according to his ideas there was
+nothing dishonorable in these tastes, and he was incapable of
+considering what the gratification of his tastes entailed for others, he
+honestly considered himself irreproachable, sincerely despised rogues
+and bad people, and with a tranquil conscience carried his head high.
+
+Rakes, those male Magdalenes, have a secret feeling of innocence similar
+to that which female Magdalenes have, based on the same hope of
+forgiveness. "All will be forgiven her, for she loved much; and all will
+be forgiven him, for he enjoyed much."
+
+Dolokhov, who had reappeared that year in Moscow after his exile and his
+Persian adventures, and was leading a life of luxury, gambling, and
+dissipation, associated with his old Petersburg comrade Kuragin and made
+use of him for his own ends.
+
+Anatole was sincerely fond of Dolokhov for his cleverness and audacity.
+Dolokhov, who needed Anatole Kuragin's name, position, and connections
+as a bait to draw rich young men into his gambling set, made use of him
+and amused himself at his expense without letting the other feel it.
+Apart from the advantage he derived from Anatole, the very process of
+dominating another's will was in itself a pleasure, a habit, and a
+necessity to Dolokhov.
+
+Natasha had made a strong impression on Kuragin. At supper after the
+opera he described to Dolokhov with the air of a connoisseur the
+attractions of her arms, shoulders, feet, and hair and expressed his
+intention of making love to her. Anatole had no notion and was incapable
+of considering what might come of such love-making, as he never had any
+notion of the outcome of any of his actions.
+
+"She's first-rate, my dear fellow, but not for us," replied Dolokhov.
+
+"I will tell my sister to ask her to dinner," said Anatole. "Eh?"
+
+"You'd better wait till she's married...."
+
+"You know, I adore little girls, they lose their heads at once," pursued
+Anatole.
+
+"You have been caught once already by a 'little girl,'" said Dolokhov
+who knew of Kuragin's marriage. "Take care!"
+
+"Well, that can't happen twice! Eh?" said Anatole, with a good-humored
+laugh.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+The day after the opera the Rostovs went nowhere and nobody came to see
+them. Marya Dmitrievna talked to the count about something which they
+concealed from Natasha. Natasha guessed they were talking about the old
+prince and planning something, and this disquieted and offended her. She
+was expecting Prince Andrew any moment and twice that day sent a
+manservant to the Vozdvizhenka to ascertain whether he had come. He had
+not arrived. She suffered more now than during her first days in Moscow.
+To her impatience and pining for him were now added the unpleasant
+recollection of her interview with Princess Mary and the old prince, and
+a fear and anxiety of which she did not understand the cause. She
+continually fancied that either he would never come or that something
+would happen to her before he came. She could no longer think of him by
+herself calmly and continuously as she had done before. As soon as she
+began to think of him, the recollection of the old prince, of Princess
+Mary, of the theater, and of Kuragin mingled with her thoughts. The
+question again presented itself whether she was not guilty, whether she
+had not already broken faith with Prince Andrew, and again she found
+herself recalling to the minutest detail every word, every gesture, and
+every shade in the play of expression on the face of the man who had
+been able to arouse in her such an incomprehensible and terrifying
+feeling. To the family Natasha seemed livelier than usual, but she was
+far less tranquil and happy than before.
+
+On Sunday morning Marya Dmitrievna invited her visitors to Mass at her
+parish church--the Church of the Assumption built over the graves of
+victims of the plague.
+
+"I don't like those fashionable churches," she said, evidently priding
+herself on her independence of thought. "God is the same everywhere. We
+have an excellent priest, he conducts the service decently and with
+dignity, and the deacon is the same. What holiness is there in giving
+concerts in the choir? I don't like it, it's just self-indulgence!"
+
+Marya Dmitrievna liked Sundays and knew how to keep them. Her whole
+house was scrubbed and cleaned on Saturdays; neither she nor the
+servants worked, and they all wore holiday dress and went to church. At
+her table there were extra dishes at dinner, and the servants had vodka
+and roast goose or suckling pig. But in nothing in the house was the
+holiday so noticeable as in Marya Dmitrievna's broad, stern face, which
+on that day wore an invariable look of solemn festivity.
+
+After Mass, when they had finished their coffee in the dining room where
+the loose covers had been removed from the furniture, a servant
+announced that the carriage was ready, and Marya Dmitrievna rose with a
+stern air. She wore her holiday shawl, in which she paid calls, and
+announced that she was going to see Prince Nicholas Bolkonski to have an
+explanation with him about Natasha.
+
+After she had gone, a dressmaker from Madame Suppert-Roguet waited on
+the Rostovs, and Natasha, very glad of this diversion, having shut
+herself into a room adjoining the drawing room, occupied herself trying
+on the new dresses. Just as she had put on a bodice without sleeves and
+only tacked together, and was turning her head to see in the glass how
+the back fitted, she heard in the drawing room the animated sounds of
+her father's voice and another's--a woman's--that made her flush. It was
+Helene. Natasha had not time to take off the bodice before the door
+opened and Countess Bezukhova, dressed in a purple velvet gown with a
+high collar, came into the room beaming with good-humored amiable
+smiles.
+
+"Oh, my enchantress!" she cried to the blushing Natasha. "Charming! No,
+this is really beyond anything, my dear count," said she to Count Rostov
+who had followed her in. "How can you live in Moscow and go nowhere? No,
+I won't let you off! Mademoiselle George will recite at my house tonight
+and there'll be some people, and if you don't bring your lovely girls--
+who are prettier than Mademoiselle George--I won't know you! My husband
+is away in Tver or I would send him to fetch you. You must come. You
+positively must! Between eight and nine."
+
+She nodded to the dressmaker, whom she knew and who had curtsied
+respectfully to her, and seated herself in an armchair beside the
+looking glass, draping the folds of her velvet dress picturesquely. She
+did not cease chattering good-naturedly and gaily, continually praising
+Natasha's beauty. She looked at Natasha's dresses and praised them, as
+well as a new dress of her own made of "metallic gauze," which she had
+received from Paris, and advised Natasha to have one like it.
+
+"But anything suits you, my charmer!" she remarked.
+
+A smile of pleasure never left Natasha's face. She felt happy and as if
+she were blossoming under the praise of this dear Countess Bezukhova who
+had formerly seemed to her so unapproachable and important and was now
+so kind to her. Natasha brightened up and felt almost in love with this
+woman, who was so beautiful and so kind. Helene for her part was
+sincerely delighted with Natasha and wished to give her a good time.
+Anatole had asked her to bring him and Natasha together, and she was
+calling on the Rostovs for that purpose. The idea of throwing her
+brother and Natasha together amused her.
+
+Though at one time, in Petersburg, she had been annoyed with Natasha for
+drawing Boris away, she did not think of that now, and in her own way
+heartily wished Natasha well. As she was leaving the Rostovs she called
+her protegee aside.
+
+"My brother dined with me yesterday--we nearly died of laughter--he ate
+nothing and kept sighing for you, my charmer! He is madly, quite madly,
+in love with you, my dear."
+
+Natasha blushed scarlet when she heard this.
+
+"How she blushes, how she blushes, my pretty!" said Helene. "You must
+certainly come. If you love somebody, my charmer, that is not a reason
+to shut yourself up. Even if you are engaged, I am sure your fiance
+would wish you to go into society rather than be bored to death."
+
+"So she knows I am engaged, and she and her husband Pierre--that good
+Pierre--have talked and laughed about this. So it's all right." And
+again, under Helene's influence, what had seemed terrible now seemed
+simple and natural. "And she is such a grande dame, so kind, and
+evidently likes me so much. And why not enjoy myself?" thought Natasha,
+gazing at Helene with wide-open, wondering eyes.
+
+Marya Dmitrievna came back to dinner taciturn and serious, having
+evidently suffered a defeat at the old prince's. She was still too
+agitated by the encounter to be able to talk of the affair calmly. In
+answer to the count's inquiries she replied that things were all right
+and that she would tell about it next day. On hearing of Countess
+Bezukhova's visit and the invitation for that evening, Marya Dmitrievna
+remarked:
+
+"I don't care to have anything to do with Bezukhova and don't advise you
+to; however, if you've promised--go. It will divert your thoughts," she
+added, addressing Natasha.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+Count Rostov took the girls to Countess Bezukhova's. There were a good
+many people there, but nearly all strangers to Natasha. Count Rostov was
+displeased to see that the company consisted almost entirely of men and
+women known for the freedom of their conduct. Mademoiselle George was
+standing in a corner of the drawing room surrounded by young men. There
+were several Frenchmen present, among them Metivier who from the time
+Helene reached Moscow had been an intimate in her house. The count
+decided not to sit down to cards or let his girls out of his sight and
+to get away as soon as Mademoiselle George's performance was over.
+
+Anatole was at the door, evidently on the lookout for the Rostovs.
+Immediately after greeting the count he went up to Natasha and followed
+her. As soon as she saw him she was seized by the same feeling she had
+had at the opera--gratified vanity at his admiration of her and fear at
+the absence of a moral barrier between them.
+
+Helene welcomed Natasha delightedly and was loud in admiration of her
+beauty and her dress. Soon after their arrival Mademoiselle George went
+out of the room to change her costume. In the drawing room people began
+arranging the chairs and taking their seats. Anatole moved a chair for
+Natasha and was about to sit down beside her, but the count, who never
+lost sight of her, took the seat himself. Anatole sat down behind her.
+
+Mademoiselle George, with her bare, fat, dimpled arms, and a red shawl
+draped over one shoulder, came into the space left vacant for her, and
+assumed an unnatural pose. Enthusiastic whispering was audible.
+
+Mademoiselle George looked sternly and gloomily at the audience and
+began reciting some French verses describing her guilty love for her
+son. In some places she raised her voice, in others she whispered,
+lifting her head triumphantly; sometimes she paused and uttered hoarse
+sounds, rolling her eyes.
+
+"Adorable! divine! delicious!" was heard from every side.
+
+Natasha looked at the fat actress, but neither saw nor heard nor
+understood anything of what went on before her. She only felt herself
+again completely borne away into this strange senseless world--so remote
+from her old world--a world in which it was impossible to know what was
+good or bad, reasonable or senseless. Behind her sat Anatole, and
+conscious of his proximity she experienced a frightened sense of
+expectancy.
+
+After the first monologue the whole company rose and surrounded
+Mademoiselle George, expressing their enthusiasm.
+
+"How beautiful she is!" Natasha remarked to her father who had also
+risen and was moving through the crowd toward the actress.
+
+"I don't think so when I look at you!" said Anatole, following Natasha.
+He said this at a moment when she alone could hear him. "You are
+enchanting... from the moment I saw you I have never ceased..."
+
+"Come, come, Natasha!" said the count, as he turned back for his
+daughter. "How beautiful she is!" Natasha without saying anything
+stepped up to her father and looked at him with surprised inquiring
+eyes.
+
+After giving several recitations, Mademoiselle George left, and Countess
+Bezukhova asked her visitors into the ballroom.
+
+The count wished to go home, but Helene entreated him not to spoil her
+improvised ball, and the Rostovs stayed on. Anatole asked Natasha for a
+valse and as they danced he pressed her waist and hand and told her she
+was bewitching and that he loved her. During the ecossaise, which she
+also danced with him, Anatole said nothing when they happened to be by
+themselves, but merely gazed at her. Natasha lifted her frightened eyes
+to him, but there was such confident tenderness in his affectionate look
+and smile that she could not, whilst looking at him, say what she had to
+say. She lowered her eyes.
+
+"Don't say such things to me. I am betrothed and love another," she said
+rapidly.... She glanced at him.
+
+Anatole was not upset or pained by what she had said.
+
+"Don't speak to me of that! What can I do?" said he. "I tell you I am
+madly, madly, in love with you! Is it my fault that you are
+enchanting?... It's our turn to begin."
+
+Natasha, animated and excited, looked about her with wide-open
+frightened eyes and seemed merrier than usual. She understood hardly
+anything that went on that evening. They danced the ecossaise and the
+Grossvater. Her father asked her to come home, but she begged to remain.
+Wherever she went and whomever she was speaking to, she felt his eyes
+upon her. Later on she recalled how she had asked her father to let her
+go to the dressing room to rearrange her dress, that Helene had followed
+her and spoken laughingly of her brother's love, and that she again met
+Anatole in the little sitting room. Helene had disappeared leaving them
+alone, and Anatole had taken her hand and said in a tender voice:
+
+"I cannot come to visit you but is it possible that I shall never see
+you? I love you madly. Can I never...?" and, blocking her path, he
+brought his face close to hers.
+
+His large, glittering, masculine eyes were so close to hers that she saw
+nothing but them.
+
+"Natalie?" he whispered inquiringly while she felt her hands being
+painfully pressed. "Natalie?"
+
+"I don't understand. I have nothing to say," her eyes replied.
+
+Burning lips were pressed to hers, and at the same instant she felt
+herself released, and Helene's footsteps and the rustle of her dress
+were heard in the room. Natasha looked round at her, and then, red and
+trembling, threw a frightened look of inquiry at Anatole and moved
+toward the door.
+
+"One word, just one, for God's sake!" cried Anatole.
+
+She paused. She so wanted a word from him that would explain to her what
+had happened and to which she could find no answer.
+
+"Natalie, just a word, only one!" he kept repeating, evidently not
+knowing what to say and he repeated it till Helene came up to them.
+
+Helene returned with Natasha to the drawing room. The Rostovs went away
+without staying for supper.
+
+After reaching home Natasha did not sleep all night. She was tormented
+by the insoluble question whether she loved Anatole or Prince Andrew.
+She loved Prince Andrew--she remembered distinctly how deeply she loved
+him. But she also loved Anatole, of that there was no doubt. "Else how
+could all this have happened?" thought she. "If, after that, I could
+return his smile when saying good-by, if I was able to let it come to
+that, it means that I loved him from the first. It means that he is
+kind, noble, and splendid, and I could not help loving him. What am I to
+do if I love him and the other one too?" she asked herself, unable to
+find an answer to these terrible questions.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+Morning came with its cares and bustle. Everyone got up and began to
+move about and talk, dressmakers came again. Marya Dmitrievna appeared,
+and they were called to breakfast. Natasha kept looking uneasily at
+everybody with wide-open eyes, as if wishing to intercept every glance
+directed toward her, and tried to appear the same as usual.
+
+After breakfast, which was her best time, Marya Dmitrievna sat down in
+her armchair and called Natasha and the count to her.
+
+"Well, friends, I have now thought the whole matter over and this is my
+advice," she began. "Yesterday, as you know, I went to see Prince
+Bolkonski. Well, I had a talk with him.... He took it into his head to
+begin shouting, but I am not one to be shouted down. I said what I had
+to say!"
+
+"Well, and he?" asked the count.
+
+"He? He's crazy... he did not want to listen. But what's the use of
+talking? As it is we have worn the poor girl out," said Marya
+Dmitrievna. "My advice to you is finish your business and go back home
+to Otradnoe... and wait there."
+
+"Oh, no!" exclaimed Natasha.
+
+"Yes, go back," said Marya Dmitrievna, "and wait there. If your
+betrothed comes here now--there will be no avoiding a quarrel; but alone
+with the old man he will talk things over and then come on to you."
+
+Count Rostov approved of this suggestion, appreciating its
+reasonableness. If the old man came round it would be all the better to
+visit him in Moscow or at Bald Hills later on; and if not, the wedding,
+against his wishes, could only be arranged at Otradnoe.
+
+"That is perfectly true. And I am sorry I went to see him and took her,"
+said the old count.
+
+"No, why be sorry? Being here, you had to pay your respects. But if he
+won't--that's his affair," said Marya Dmitrievna, looking for something
+in her reticule. "Besides, the trousseau is ready, so there is nothing
+to wait for; and what is not ready I'll send after you. Though I don't
+like letting you go, it is the best way. So go, with God's blessing!"
+
+Having found what she was looking for in the reticule she handed it to
+Natasha. It was a letter from Princess Mary.
+
+"She has written to you. How she torments herself, poor thing! She's
+afraid you might think that she does not like you."
+
+"But she doesn't like me," said Natasha.
+
+"Don't talk nonsense!" cried Marya Dmitrievna.
+
+"I shan't believe anyone, I know she doesn't like me," replied Natasha
+boldly as she took the letter, and her face expressed a cold and angry
+resolution that caused Marya Dmitrievna to look at her more intently and
+to frown.
+
+"Don't answer like that, my good girl!" she said. "What I say is true!
+Write an answer!" Natasha did not reply and went to her own room to read
+Princess Mary's letter.
+
+Princess Mary wrote that she was in despair at the misunderstanding that
+had occurred between them. Whatever her father's feelings might be, she
+begged Natasha to believe that she could not help loving her as the one
+chosen by her brother, for whose happiness she was ready to sacrifice
+everything.
+
+"Do not think, however," she wrote, "that my father is ill-disposed
+toward you. He is an invalid and an old man who must be forgiven; but he
+is good and magnanimous and will love her who makes his son happy."
+Princess Mary went on to ask Natasha to fix a time when she could see
+her again.
+
+After reading the letter Natasha sat down at the writing table to answer
+it. "Dear Princess," she wrote in French quickly and mechanically, and
+then paused. What more could she write after all that had happened the
+evening before? "Yes, yes! All that has happened, and now all is
+changed," she thought as she sat with the letter she had begun before
+her. "Must I break off with him? Must I really? That's awful..." and to
+escape from these dreadful thoughts she went to Sonya and began sorting
+patterns with her.
+
+After dinner Natasha went to her room and again took up Princess Mary's
+letter. "Can it be that it is all over?" she thought. "Can it be that
+all this has happened so quickly and has destroyed all that went
+before?" She recalled her love for Prince Andrew in all its former
+strength, and at the same time felt that she loved Kuragin. She vividly
+pictured herself as Prince Andrew's wife, and the scenes of happiness
+with him she had so often repeated in her imagination, and at the same
+time, aglow with excitement, recalled every detail of yesterday's
+interview with Anatole.
+
+"Why could that not be as well?" she sometimes asked herself in complete
+bewilderment. "Only so could I be completely happy; but now I have to
+choose, and I can't be happy without either of them. Only," she thought,
+"to tell Prince Andrew what has happened or to hide it from him are both
+equally impossible. But with that one nothing is spoiled. But am I
+really to abandon forever the joy of Prince Andrew's love, in which I
+have lived so long?"
+
+"Please, Miss!" whispered a maid entering the room with a mysterious
+air. "A man told me to give you this-" and she handed Natasha a letter.
+
+"Only, for Christ's sake..." the girl went on, as Natasha, without
+thinking, mechanically broke the seal and read a love letter from
+Anatole, of which, without taking in a word, she understood only that it
+was a letter from him--from the man she loved. Yes, she loved him, or
+else how could that have happened which had happened? And how could she
+have a love letter from him in her hand?
+
+With trembling hands Natasha held that passionate love letter which
+Dolokhov had composed for Anatole, and as she read it she found in it an
+echo of all that she herself imagined she was feeling.
+
+"Since yesterday evening my fate has been sealed; to be loved by you or
+to die. There is no other way for me," the letter began. Then he went on
+to say that he knew her parents would not give her to him--for this
+there were secret reasons he could reveal only to her--but that if she
+loved him she need only say the word yes, and no human power could
+hinder their bliss. Love would conquer all. He would steal her away and
+carry her off to the ends of the earth.
+
+"Yes, yes! I love him!" thought Natasha, reading the letter for the
+twentieth time and finding some peculiarly deep meaning in each word of
+it.
+
+That evening Marya Dmitrievna was going to the Akharovs' and proposed to
+take the girls with her. Natasha, pleading a headache, remained at home.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+On returning late in the evening Sonya went to Natasha's room, and to
+her surprise found her still dressed and asleep on the sofa. Open on the
+table, beside her lay Anatole's letter. Sonya picked it up and read it.
+
+As she read she glanced at the sleeping Natasha, trying to find in her
+face an explanation of what she was reading, but did not find it. Her
+face was calm, gentle, and happy. Clutching her breast to keep herself
+from choking, Sonya, pale and trembling with fear and agitation, sat
+down in an armchair and burst into tears.
+
+"How was it I noticed nothing? How could it go so far? Can she have left
+off loving Prince Andrew? And how could she let Kuragin go to such
+lengths? He is a deceiver and a villain, that's plain! What will
+Nicholas, dear noble Nicholas, do when he hears of it? So this is the
+meaning of her excited, resolute, unnatural look the day before
+yesterday, yesterday, and today," thought Sonya. "But it can't be that
+she loves him! She probably opened the letter without knowing who it was
+from. Probably she is offended by it. She could not do such a thing!"
+
+Sonya wiped away her tears and went up to Natasha, again scanning her
+face.
+
+"Natasha!" she said, just audibly.
+
+Natasha awoke and saw Sonya.
+
+"Ah, you're back?"
+
+And with the decision and tenderness that often come at the moment of
+awakening, she embraced her friend, but noticing Sonya's look of
+embarrassment, her own face expressed confusion and suspicion.
+
+"Sonya, you've read that letter?" she demanded.
+
+"Yes," answered Sonya softly.
+
+Natasha smiled rapturously.
+
+"No, Sonya, I can't any longer!" she said. "I can't hide it from you any
+longer. You know, we love one another! Sonya, darling, he writes...
+Sonya..."
+
+Sonya stared open-eyed at Natasha, unable to believe her ears.
+
+"And Bolkonski?" she asked.
+
+"Ah, Sonya, if you only knew how happy I am!" cried Natasha. "You don't
+know what love is...."
+
+"But, Natasha, can that be all over?"
+
+Natasha looked at Sonya with wide-open eyes as if she could not grasp
+the question.
+
+"Well, then, are you refusing Prince Andrew?" said Sonya.
+
+"Oh, you don't understand anything! Don't talk nonsense, just listen!"
+said Natasha, with momentary vexation.
+
+"But I can't believe it," insisted Sonya. "I don't understand. How is it
+you have loved a man for a whole year and suddenly... Why, you have only
+seen him three times! Natasha, I don't believe you, you're joking! In
+three days to forget everything and so..."
+
+"Three days?" said Natasha. "It seems to me I've loved him a hundred
+years. It seems to me that I have never loved anyone before. You can't
+understand it.... Sonya, wait a bit, sit here," and Natasha embraced and
+kissed her.
+
+"I had heard that it happens like this, and you must have heard it too,
+but it's only now that I feel such love. It's not the same as before. As
+soon as I saw him I felt he was my master and I his slave, and that I
+could not help loving him. Yes, his slave! Whatever he orders I shall
+do. You don't understand that. What can I do? What can I do, Sonya?"
+cried Natasha with a happy yet frightened expression.
+
+"But think what you are doing," cried Sonya. "I can't leave it like
+this. This secret correspondence... How could you let him go so far?"
+she went on, with a horror and disgust she could hardly conceal.
+
+"I told you that I have no will," Natasha replied. "Why can't you
+understand? I love him!"
+
+"Then I won't let it come to that... I shall tell!" cried Sonya,
+bursting into tears.
+
+"What do you mean? For God's sake... If you tell, you are my enemy!"
+declared Natasha. "You want me to be miserable, you want us to be
+separated...."
+
+When she saw Natasha's fright, Sonya shed tears of shame and pity for
+her friend.
+
+"But what has happened between you?" she asked. "What has he said to
+you? Why doesn't he come to the house?"
+
+Natasha did not answer her questions.
+
+"For God's sake, Sonya, don't tell anyone, don't torture me," Natasha
+entreated. "Remember no one ought to interfere in such matters! I have
+confided in you...."
+
+"But why this secrecy? Why doesn't he come to the house?" asked Sonya.
+"Why doesn't he openly ask for your hand? You know Prince Andrew gave
+you complete freedom--if it is really so; but I don't believe it!
+Natasha, have you considered what these secret reasons can be?"
+
+Natasha looked at Sonya with astonishment. Evidently this question
+presented itself to her mind for the first time and she did not know how
+to answer it.
+
+"I don't know what the reasons are. But there must be reasons!"
+
+Sonya sighed and shook her head incredulously.
+
+"If there were reasons..." she began.
+
+But Natasha, guessing her doubts, interrupted her in alarm.
+
+"Sonya, one can't doubt him! One can't, one can't! Don't you
+understand?" she cried.
+
+"Does he love you?"
+
+"Does he love me?" Natasha repeated with a smile of pity at her friend's
+lack of comprehension. "Why, you have read his letter and you have seen
+him."
+
+"But if he is dishonorable?"
+
+"He! dishonorable? If you only knew!" exclaimed Natasha.
+
+"If he is an honorable man he should either declare his intentions or
+cease seeing you; and if you won't do this, I will. I will write to him,
+and I will tell Papa!" said Sonya resolutely.
+
+"But I can't live without him!" cried Natasha.
+
+"Natasha, I don't understand you. And what are you saying! Think of your
+father and of Nicholas."
+
+"I don't want anyone, I don't love anyone but him. How dare you say he
+is dishonorable? Don't you know that I love him?" screamed Natasha. "Go
+away, Sonya! I don't want to quarrel with you, but go, for God's sake
+go! You see how I am suffering!" Natasha cried angrily, in a voice of
+despair and repressed irritation. Sonya burst into sobs and ran from the
+room.
+
+Natasha went to the table and without a moment's reflection wrote that
+answer to Princess Mary which she had been unable to write all the
+morning. In this letter she said briefly that all their
+misunderstandings were at an end; that availing herself of the
+magnanimity of Prince Andrew who when he went abroad had given her her
+freedom, she begged Princess Mary to forget everything and forgive her
+if she had been to blame toward her, but that she could not be his wife.
+At that moment this all seemed quite easy, simple, and clear to Natasha.
+
+On Friday the Rostovs were to return to the country, but on Wednesday
+the count went with the prospective purchaser to his estate near Moscow.
+
+On the day the count left, Sonya and Natasha were invited to a big
+dinner party at the Karagins', and Marya Dmitrievna took them there. At
+that party Natasha again met Anatole, and Sonya noticed that she spoke
+to him, trying not to be overheard, and that all through dinner she was
+more agitated than ever. When they got home Natasha was the first to
+begin the explanation Sonya expected.
+
+"There, Sonya, you were talking all sorts of nonsense about him,"
+Natasha began in a mild voice such as children use when they wish to be
+praised. "We have had an explanation today."
+
+"Well, what happened? What did he say? Natasha, how glad I am you're not
+angry with me! Tell me everything--the whole truth. What did he say?"
+
+Natasha became thoughtful.
+
+"Oh, Sonya, if you knew him as I do! He said... He asked me what I had
+promised Bolkonski. He was glad I was free to refuse him."
+
+Sonya sighed sorrowfully.
+
+"But you haven't refused Bolkonski?" said she.
+
+"Perhaps I have. Perhaps all is over between me and Bolkonski. Why do
+you think so badly of me?"
+
+"I don't think anything, only I don't understand this..."
+
+"Wait a bit, Sonya, you'll understand everything. You'll see what a man
+he is! Now don't think badly of me or of him. I don't think badly of
+anyone: I love and pity everybody. But what am I to do?"
+
+Sonya did not succumb to the tender tone Natasha used toward her. The
+more emotional and ingratiating the expression of Natasha's face became,
+the more serious and stern grew Sonya's.
+
+"Natasha," said she, "you asked me not to speak to you, and I haven't
+spoken, but now you yourself have begun. I don't trust him, Natasha. Why
+this secrecy?"
+
+"Again, again!" interrupted Natasha.
+
+"Natasha, I am afraid for you!"
+
+"Afraid of what?"
+
+"I am afraid you're going to your ruin," said Sonya resolutely, and was
+herself horrified at what she had said.
+
+Anger again showed in Natasha's face.
+
+"And I'll go to my ruin, I will, as soon as possible! It's not your
+business! It won't be you, but I, who'll suffer. Leave me alone, leave
+me alone! I hate you!"
+
+"Natasha!" moaned Sonya, aghast.
+
+"I hate you, I hate you! You're my enemy forever!" And Natasha ran out
+of the room.
+
+Natasha did not speak to Sonya again and avoided her. With the same
+expression of agitated surprise and guilt she went about the house,
+taking up now one occupation, now another, and at once abandoning them.
+
+Hard as it was for Sonya, she watched her friend and did not let her out
+of her sight.
+
+The day before the count was to return, Sonya noticed that Natasha sat
+by the drawing-room window all the morning as if expecting something and
+that she made a sign to an officer who drove past, whom Sonya took to be
+Anatole.
+
+Sonya began watching her friend still more attentively and noticed that
+at dinner and all that evening Natasha was in a strange and unnatural
+state. She answered questions at random, began sentences she did not
+finish, and laughed at everything.
+
+After tea Sonya noticed a housemaid at Natasha's door timidly waiting to
+let her pass. She let the girl go in, and then listening at the door
+learned that another letter had been delivered.
+
+Then suddenly it became clear to Sonya that Natasha had some dreadful
+plan for that evening. Sonya knocked at her door. Natasha did not let
+her in.
+
+"She will run away with him!" thought Sonya. "She is capable of
+anything. There was something particularly pathetic and resolute in her
+face today. She cried as she said good-by to Uncle," Sonya remembered.
+"Yes, that's it, she means to elope with him, but what am I to do?"
+thought she, recalling all the signs that clearly indicated that Natasha
+had some terrible intention. "The count is away. What am I to do? Write
+to Kuragin demanding an explanation? But what is there to oblige him to
+reply? Write to Pierre, as Prince Andrew asked me to in case of some
+misfortune?... But perhaps she really has already refused Bolkonski--she
+sent a letter to Princess Mary yesterday. And Uncle is away...." To tell
+Marya Dmitrievna who had such faith in Natasha seemed to Sonya terrible.
+"Well, anyway," thought Sonya as she stood in the dark passage, "now or
+never I must prove that I remember the family's goodness to me and that
+I love Nicholas. Yes! If I don't sleep for three nights I'll not leave
+this passage and will hold her back by force and will and not let the
+family be disgraced," thought she.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+Anatole had lately moved to Dolokhov's. The plan for Natalie Rostova's
+abduction had been arranged and the preparations made by Dolokhov a few
+days before, and on the day that Sonya, after listening at Natasha's
+door, resolved to safeguard her, it was to have been put into execution.
+Natasha had promised to come out to Kuragin at the back porch at ten
+that evening. Kuragin was to put her into a troyka he would have ready
+and to drive her forty miles to the village of Kamenka, where an
+unfrocked priest was in readiness to perform a marriage ceremony over
+them. At Kamenka a relay of horses was to wait which would take them to
+the Warsaw highroad, and from there they would hasten abroad with post
+horses.
+
+Anatole had a passport, an order for post horses, ten thousand rubles he
+had taken from his sister and another ten thousand borrowed with
+Dolokhov's help.
+
+Two witnesses for the mock marriage--Khvostikov, a retired petty
+official whom Dolokhov made use of in his gambling transactions, and
+Makarin, a retired hussar, a kindly, weak fellow who had an unbounded
+affection for Kuragin--were sitting at tea in Dolokhov's front room.
+
+In his large study, the walls of which were hung to the ceiling with
+Persian rugs, bearskins, and weapons, sat Dolokhov in a traveling cloak
+and high boots, at an open desk on which lay an abacus and some bundles of
+paper money. Anatole, with uniform unbuttoned, walked to and fro from
+the room where the witnesses were sitting, through the study to the room
+behind, where his French valet and others were packing the last of his
+things. Dolokhov was counting the money and noting something down.
+
+"Well," he said, "Khvostikov must have two thousand."
+
+"Give it to him, then," said Anatole.
+
+"Makarka" (their name for Makarin) "will go through fire and water for
+you for nothing. So here are our accounts all settled," said Dolokhov,
+showing him the memorandum. "Is that right?"
+
+"Yes, of course," returned Anatole, evidently not listening to Dolokhov
+and looking straight before him with a smile that did not leave his
+face.
+
+Dolokhov banged down the lid of his desk and turned to Anatole with an
+ironic smile:
+
+"Do you know? You'd really better drop it all. There's still time!"
+
+"Fool," retorted Anatole. "Don't talk nonsense! If you only knew... it's
+the devil knows what!"
+
+"No, really, give it up!" said Dolokhov. "I am speaking seriously. It's
+no joke, this plot you've hatched."
+
+"What, teasing again? Go to the devil! Eh?" said Anatole, making a
+grimace. "Really it's no time for your stupid jokes," and he left the
+room.
+
+Dolokhov smiled contemptuously and condescendingly when Anatole had gone
+out.
+
+"You wait a bit," he called after him. "I'm not joking, I'm talking
+sense. Come here, come here!"
+
+Anatole returned and looked at Dolokhov, trying to give him his
+attention and evidently submitting to him involuntarily.
+
+"Now listen to me. I'm telling you this for the last time. Why should I
+joke about it? Did I hinder you? Who arranged everything for you? Who
+found the priest and got the passport? Who raised the money? I did it
+all."
+
+"Well, thank you for it. Do you think I am not grateful?" And Anatole
+sighed and embraced Dolokhov.
+
+"I helped you, but all the same I must tell you the truth; it is a
+dangerous business, and if you think about it--a stupid business. Well,
+you'll carry her off--all right! Will they let it stop at that? It will
+come out that you're already married. Why, they'll have you in the
+criminal court...."
+
+"Oh, nonsense, nonsense!" Anatole ejaculated and again made a grimace.
+"Didn't I explain to you? What?" And Anatole, with the partiality dull-
+witted people have for any conclusion they have reached by their own
+reasoning, repeated the argument he had already put to Dolokhov a
+hundred times. "Didn't I explain to you that I have come to this
+conclusion: if this marriage is invalid," he went on, crooking one
+finger, "then I have nothing to answer for; but if it is valid, no
+matter! Abroad no one will know anything about it. Isn't that so? And
+don't talk to me, don't, don't."
+
+"Seriously, you'd better drop it! You'll only get yourself into a mess!"
+
+"Go to the devil!" cried Anatole and, clutching his hair, left the room,
+but returned at once and dropped into an armchair in front of Dolokhov
+with his feet turned under him. "It's the very devil! What? Feel how it
+beats!" He took Dolokhov's hand and put it on his heart. "What a foot,
+my dear fellow! What a glance! A goddess!" he added in French. "What?"
+
+Dolokhov with a cold smile and a gleam in his handsome insolent eyes
+looked at him--evidently wishing to get some more amusement out of him.
+
+"Well and when the money's gone, what then?"
+
+"What then? Eh?" repeated Anatole, sincerely perplexed by a thought of
+the future. "What then?... Then, I don't know.... But why talk
+nonsense!" He glanced at his watch. "It's time!"
+
+Anatole went into the back room.
+
+"Now then! Nearly ready? You're dawdling!" he shouted to the servants.
+
+Dolokhov put away the money, called a footman whom he ordered to bring
+something for them to eat and drink before the journey, and went into
+the room where Khvostikov and Makarin were sitting.
+
+Anatole lay on the sofa in the study leaning on his elbow and smiling
+pensively, while his handsome lips muttered tenderly to himself.
+
+"Come and eat something. Have a drink!" Dolokhov shouted to him from the
+other room.
+
+"I don't want to," answered Anatole continuing to smile.
+
+"Come! Balaga is here."
+
+Anatole rose and went into the dining room. Balaga was a famous troyka
+driver who had known Dolokhov and Anatole some six years and had given
+them good service with his troykas. More than once when Anatole's
+regiment was stationed at Tver he had taken him from Tver in the
+evening, brought him to Moscow by daybreak, and driven him back again
+the next night. More than once he had enabled Dolokhov to escape when
+pursued. More than once he had driven them through the town with gypsies
+and "ladykins" as he called the cocottes. More than once in their
+service he had run over pedestrians and upset vehicles in the streets of
+Moscow and had always been protected from the consequences by "my
+gentlemen" as he called them. He had ruined more than one horse in their
+service. More than once they had beaten him, and more than once they had
+made him drunk on champagne and Madeira, which he loved; and he knew
+more than one thing about each of them which would long ago have sent an
+ordinary man to Siberia. They often called Balaga into their orgies and
+made him drink and dance at the gypsies', and more than one thousand
+rubles of their money had passed through his hands. In their service he
+risked his skin and his life twenty times a year, and in their service
+had lost more horses than the money he had from them would buy. But he
+liked them; liked that mad driving at twelve miles an hour, liked
+upsetting a driver or running down a pedestrian, and flying at full
+gallop through the Moscow streets. He liked to hear those wild, tipsy
+shouts behind him: "Get on! Get on!" when it was impossible to go any
+faster. He liked giving a painful lash on the neck to some peasant who,
+more dead than alive, was already hurrying out of his way. "Real
+gentlemen!" he considered them.
+
+Anatole and Dolokhov liked Balaga too for his masterly driving and
+because he liked the things they liked. With others Balaga bargained,
+charging twenty-five rubles for a two hours' drive, and rarely drove
+himself, generally letting his young men do so. But with "his gentlemen"
+he always drove himself and never demanded anything for his work. Only a
+couple of times a year--when he knew from their valets that they had
+money in hand--he would turn up of a morning quite sober and with a deep
+bow would ask them to help him. The gentlemen always made him sit down.
+
+"Do help me out, Theodore Ivanych, sir," or "your excellency," he would
+say. "I am quite out of horses. Let me have what you can to go to the
+fair."
+
+And Anatole and Dolokhov, when they had money, would give him a thousand
+or a couple of thousand rubles.
+
+Balaga was a fair-haired, short, and snub-nosed peasant of about twenty-
+seven; red-faced, with a particularly red thick neck, glittering little
+eyes, and a small beard. He wore a fine, dark-blue, silk-lined cloth
+coat over a sheepskin.
+
+On entering the room now he crossed himself, turning toward the front
+corner of the room, and went up to Dolokhov, holding out a small, black
+hand.
+
+"Theodore Ivanych!" he said, bowing.
+
+"How d'you do, friend? Well, here he is!"
+
+"Good day, your excellency!" he said, again holding out his hand to
+Anatole who had just come in.
+
+"I say, Balaga," said Anatole, putting his hands on the man's shoulders,
+"do you care for me or not? Eh? Now, do me a service.... What horses
+have you come with? Eh?"
+
+"As your messenger ordered, your special beasts," replied Balaga.
+
+"Well, listen, Balaga! Drive all three to death but get me there in
+three hours. Eh?"
+
+"When they are dead, what shall I drive?" said Balaga with a wink.
+
+"Mind, I'll smash your face in! Don't make jokes!" cried Anatole,
+suddenly rolling his eyes.
+
+"Why joke?" said the driver, laughing. "As if I'd grudge my gentlemen
+anything! As fast as ever the horses can gallop, so fast we'll go!"
+
+"Ah!" said Anatole. "Well, sit down."
+
+"Yes, sit down!" said Dolokhov.
+
+"I'll stand, Theodore Ivanych."
+
+"Sit down; nonsense! Have a drink!" said Anatole, and filled a large
+glass of Madeira for him.
+
+The driver's eyes sparkled at the sight of the wine. After refusing it
+for manners' sake, he drank it and wiped his mouth with a red silk
+handkerchief he took out of his cap.
+
+"And when are we to start, your excellency?"
+
+"Well..." Anatole looked at his watch. "We'll start at once. Mind,
+Balaga! You'll get there in time? Eh?"
+
+"That depends on our luck in starting, else why shouldn't we be there in
+time?" replied Balaga. "Didn't we get you to Tver in seven hours? I
+think you remember that, your excellency?"
+
+"Do you know, one Christmas I drove from Tver," said Anatole, smilingly
+at the recollection and turning to Makarin who gazed rapturously at him
+with wide-open eyes. "Will you believe it, Makarka, it took one's breath
+away, the rate we flew. We came across a train of loaded sleighs and
+drove right over two of them. Eh?"
+
+"Those were horses!" Balaga continued the tale. "That time I'd harnessed
+two young side horses with the bay in the shafts," he went on, turning
+to Dolokhov. "Will you believe it, Theodore Ivanych, those animals flew
+forty miles? I couldn't hold them in, my hands grew numb in the sharp
+frost so that I threw down the reins--'Catch hold yourself, your
+excellency!' says I, and I just tumbled on the bottom of the sleigh and
+sprawled there. It wasn't a case of urging them on, there was no holding
+them in till we reached the place. The devils took us there in three
+hours! Only the near one died of it."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+Anatole went out of the room and returned a few minutes later wearing a
+fur coat girt with a silver belt, and a sable cap jauntily set on one
+side and very becoming to his handsome face. Having looked in a mirror,
+and standing before Dolokhov in the same pose he had assumed before it,
+he lifted a glass of wine.
+
+"Well, good-by, Theodore. Thank you for everything and farewell!" said
+Anatole. "Well, comrades and friends..." he considered for a moment
+"...of my youth, farewell!" he said, turning to Makarin and the others.
+
+Though they were all going with him, Anatole evidently wished to make
+something touching and solemn out of this address to his comrades. He
+spoke slowly in a loud voice and throwing out his chest slightly swayed
+one leg.
+
+"All take glasses; you too, Balaga. Well, comrades and friends of my
+youth, we've had our fling and lived and reveled. Eh? And now, when
+shall we meet again? I am going abroad. We have had a good time--now
+farewell, lads! To our health! Hurrah!..." he cried, and emptying his
+glass flung it on the floor.
+
+"To your health!" said Balaga who also emptied his glass, and wiped his
+mouth with his handkerchief.
+
+Makarin embraced Anatole with tears in his eyes.
+
+"Ah, Prince, how sorry I am to part from you!
+
+"Let's go. Let's go!" cried Anatole.
+
+Balaga was about to leave the room.
+
+"No, stop!" said Anatole. "Shut the door; we have first to sit down.
+That's the way."
+
+They shut the door and all sat down.
+
+"Now, quick march, lads!" said Anatole, rising.
+
+Joseph, his valet, handed him his sabretache and saber, and they all
+went out into the vestibule.
+
+"And where's the fur cloak?" asked Dolokhov. "Hey, Ignatka! Go to
+Matrena Matrevna and ask her for the sable cloak. I have heard what
+elopements are like," continued Dolokhov with a wink. "Why, she'll rush
+out more dead than alive just in the things she is wearing; if you delay
+at all there'll be tears and 'Papa' and 'Mamma,' and she's frozen in a
+minute and must go back--but you wrap the fur cloak round her first
+thing and carry her to the sleigh."
+
+The valet brought a woman's fox-lined cloak.
+
+"Fool, I told you the sable one! Hey, Matrena, the sable!" he shouted so
+that his voice rang far through the rooms.
+
+A handsome, slim, and pale-faced gypsy girl with glittering black eyes
+and curly blue-black hair, wearing a red shawl, ran out with a sable
+mantle on her arm.
+
+"Here, I don't grudge it--take it!" she said, evidently afraid of her
+master and yet regretful of her cloak.
+
+Dolokhov, without answering, took the cloak, threw it over Matrena, and
+wrapped her up in it.
+
+"That's the way," said Dolokhov, "and then so!" and he turned the collar
+up round her head, leaving only a little of the face uncovered. "And
+then so, do you see?" and he pushed Anatole's head forward to meet the
+gap left by the collar, through which Matrena's brilliant smile was
+seen.
+
+"Well, good-by, Matrena," said Anatole, kissing her. "Ah, my revels here
+are over. Remember me to Steshka. There, good-by! Good-bye, Matrena,
+wish me luck!"
+
+"Well, Prince, may God give you great luck!" said Matrena in her gypsy
+accent.
+
+Two troykas were standing before the porch and two young drivers were
+holding the horses. Balaga took his seat in the front one and holding
+his elbows high arranged the reins deliberately. Anatole and Dolokhov
+got in with him. Makarin, Khvostikov, and a valet seated themselves in
+the other sleigh.
+
+"Well, are you ready?" asked Balaga.
+
+"Go!" he cried, twisting the reins round his hands, and the troyka tore
+down the Nikitski Boulevard.
+
+"Tproo! Get out of the way! Hi!... Tproo!..." The shouting of Balaga and
+of the sturdy young fellow seated on the box was all that could be
+heard. On the Arbat Square the troyka caught against a carriage;
+something cracked, shouts were heard, and the troyka flew along the
+Arbat Street.
+
+After taking a turn along the Podnovinski Boulevard, Balaga began to
+rein in, and turning back drew up at the crossing of the old Konyusheny
+Street.
+
+The young fellow on the box jumped down to hold the horses and Anatole
+and Dolokhov went along the pavement. When they reached the gate
+Dolokhov whistled. The whistle was answered, and a maidservant ran out.
+
+"Come into the courtyard or you'll be seen; she'll come out directly,"
+said she.
+
+Dolokhov stayed by the gate. Anatole followed the maid into the
+courtyard, turned the corner, and ran up into the porch.
+
+He was met by Gabriel, Marya Dmitrievna's gigantic footman.
+
+"Come to the mistress, please," said the footman in his deep bass,
+intercepting any retreat.
+
+"To what Mistress? Who are you?" asked Anatole in a breathless whisper.
+
+"Kindly step in, my orders are to bring you in."
+
+"Kuragin! Come back!" shouted Dolokhov. "Betrayed! Back!"
+
+Dolokhov, after Anatole entered, had remained at the wicket gate and was
+struggling with the yard porter who was trying to lock it. With a last
+desperate effort Dolokhov pushed the porter aside, and when Anatole ran
+back seized him by the arm, pulled him through the wicket, and ran back
+with him to the troyka.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+Marya Dmitrievna, having found Sonya weeping in the corridor, made her
+confess everything, and intercepting the note to Natasha she read it and
+went into Natasha's room with it in her hand.
+
+"You shameless good-for-nothing!" said she. "I won't hear a word."
+
+Pushing back Natasha who looked at her with astonished but tearless
+eyes, she locked her in; and having given orders to the yard porter to
+admit the persons who would be coming that evening, but not to let them
+out again, and having told the footman to bring them up to her, she
+seated herself in the drawing room to await the abductors.
+
+When Gabriel came to inform her that the men who had come had run away
+again, she rose frowning, and clasping her hands behind her paced
+through the rooms a long time considering what she should do. Toward
+midnight she went to Natasha's room fingering the key in her pocket.
+Sonya was sitting sobbing in the corridor. "Marya Dmitrievna, for God's
+sake let me in to her!" she pleaded, but Marya Dmitrievna unlocked the
+door and went in without giving her an answer.... "Disgusting,
+abominable... In my house... horrid girl, hussy! I'm only sorry for her
+father!" thought she, trying to restrain her wrath. "Hard as it may be,
+I'll tell them all to hold their tongues and will hide it from the
+count." She entered the room with resolute steps. Natasha lying on the
+sofa, her head hidden in her hands, and she did not stir. She was in
+just the same position in which Marya Dmitrievna had left her.
+
+"A nice girl! Very nice!" said Marya Dmitrievna. "Arranging meetings
+with lovers in my house! It's no use pretending: you listen when I speak
+to you!" And Marya Dmitrievna touched her arm. "Listen when I speak!
+You've disgraced yourself like the lowest of hussies. I'd treat you
+differently, but I'm sorry for your father, so I will conceal it."
+
+Natasha did not change her position, but her whole body heaved with
+noiseless, convulsive sobs which choked her. Marya Dmitrievna glanced
+round at Sonya and seated herself on the sofa beside Natasha.
+
+"It's lucky for him that he escaped me; but I'll find him!" she said in
+her rough voice. "Do you hear what I am saying or not?" she added.
+
+She put her large hand under Natasha's face and turned it toward her.
+Both Marya Dmitrievna and Sonya were amazed when they saw how Natasha
+looked. Her eyes were dry and glistening, her lips compressed, her
+cheeks sunken.
+
+"Let me be!... What is it to me?... I shall die!" she muttered,
+wrenching herself from Marya Dmitrievna's hands with a vicious effort
+and sinking down again into her former position.
+
+"Natalie!" said Marya Dmitrievna. "I wish for your good. Lie still, stay
+like that then, I won't touch you. But listen. I won't tell you how
+guilty you are. You know that yourself. But when your father comes back
+tomorrow what am I to tell him? Eh?"
+
+Again Natasha's body shook with sobs.
+
+"Suppose he finds out, and your brother, and your betrothed?"
+
+"I have no betrothed: I have refused him!" cried Natasha.
+
+"That's all the same," continued Marya Dmitrievna. "If they hear of
+this, will they let it pass? He, your father, I know him... if he
+challenges him to a duel will that be all right? Eh?"
+
+"Oh, let me be! Why have you interfered at all? Why? Why? Who asked you
+to?" shouted Natasha, raising herself on the sofa and looking
+malignantly at Marya Dmitrievna.
+
+"But what did you want?" cried Marya Dmitrievna, growing angry again.
+"Were you kept under lock and key? Who hindered his coming to the house?
+Why carry you off as if you were some gypsy singing girl?... Well, if he
+had carried you off... do you think they wouldn't have found him? Your
+father, or brother, or your betrothed? And he's a scoundrel, a wretch--
+that's a fact!"
+
+"He is better than any of you!" exclaimed Natasha getting up. "If you
+hadn't interfered... Oh, my God! What is it all? What is it? Sonya,
+why?... Go away!"
+
+And she burst into sobs with the despairing vehemence with which people
+bewail disasters they feel they have themselves occasioned. Marya
+Dmitrievna was to speak again but Natasha cried out:
+
+"Go away! Go away! You all hate and despise me!" and she threw herself
+back on the sofa.
+
+Marya Dmitrievna went on admonishing her for some time, enjoining on her
+that it must all be kept from her father and assuring her that nobody
+would know anything about it if only Natasha herself would undertake to
+forget it all and not let anyone see that something had happened.
+Natasha did not reply, nor did she sob any longer, but she grew cold and
+had a shivering fit. Marya Dmitrievna put a pillow under her head,
+covered her with two quilts, and herself brought her some lime-flower
+water, but Natasha did not respond to her.
+
+"Well, let her sleep," said Marya Dmitrievna as she went out of the room
+supposing Natasha to be asleep.
+
+But Natasha was not asleep; with pale face and fixed wide-open eyes she
+looked straight before her. All that night she did not sleep or weep and
+did not speak to Sonya who got up and went to her several times.
+
+Next day Count Rostov returned from his estate near Moscow in time for
+lunch as he had promised. He was in very good spirits; the affair with
+the purchaser was going on satisfactorily, and there was nothing to keep
+him any longer in Moscow, away from the countess whom he missed. Marya
+Dmitrievna met him and told him that Natasha had been very unwell the
+day before and that they had sent for the doctor, but that she was
+better now. Natasha had not left her room that morning. With compressed
+and parched lips and dry fixed eyes, she sat at the window, uneasily
+watching the people who drove past and hurriedly glancing round at
+anyone who entered the room. She was evidently expecting news of him and
+that he would come or would write to her.
+
+When the count came to see her she turned anxiously round at the sound
+of a man's footstep, and then her face resumed its cold and malevolent
+expression. She did not even get up to greet him. "What is the matter
+with you, my angel? Are you ill?" asked the count.
+
+After a moment's silence Natasha answered: "Yes, ill."
+
+In reply to the count's anxious inquiries as to why she was so dejected
+and whether anything had happened to her betrothed, she assured him that
+nothing had happened and asked him not to worry. Marya Dmitrievna
+confirmed Natasha's assurances that nothing had happened. From the
+pretense of illness, from his daughter's distress, and by the
+embarrassed faces of Sonya and Marya Dmitrievna, the count saw clearly
+that something had gone wrong during his absence, but it was so terrible
+for him to think that anything disgraceful had happened to his beloved
+daughter, and he so prized his own cheerful tranquillity, that he
+avoided inquiries and tried to assure himself that nothing particularly
+had happened; and he was only dissatisfied that her indisposition
+delayed their return to the country.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+From the day his wife arrived in Moscow Pierre had been intending to go
+away somewhere, so as not to be near her. Soon after the Rostovs came to
+Moscow the effect Natasha had on him made him hasten to carry out his
+intention. He went to Tver to see Joseph Alexeevich's widow, who had
+long since promised to hand over to him some papers of her deceased
+husband's.
+
+When he returned to Moscow Pierre was handed a letter from Marya
+Dmitrievna asking him to come and see her on a matter of great
+importance relating to Andrew Bolkonski and his betrothed. Pierre had
+been avoiding Natasha because it seemed to him that his feeling for her
+was stronger than a married man's should be for his friend's fiancee.
+Yet some fate constantly threw them together.
+
+"What can have happened? And what can they want with me?" thought he as
+he dressed to go to Marya Dmitrievna's. "If only Prince Andrew would
+hurry up and come and marry her!" thought he on his way to the house.
+
+On the Tverskoy Boulevard a familiar voice called to him.
+
+"Pierre! Been back long?" someone shouted. Pierre raised his head. In a
+sleigh drawn by two gray trotting-horses that were bespattering the
+dashboard with snow, Anatole and his constant companion Makarin dashed
+past. Anatole was sitting upright in the classic pose of military
+dandies, the lower part of his face hidden by his beaver collar and his
+head slightly bent. His face was fresh and rosy, his white-plumed hat,
+tilted to one side, disclosed his curled and pomaded hair besprinkled
+with powdery snow.
+
+"Yes, indeed, that's a true sage," thought Pierre. "He sees nothing
+beyond the pleasure of the moment, nothing troubles him and so he is
+always cheerful, satisfied, and serene. What wouldn't I give to be like
+him!" he thought enviously.
+
+In Marya Dmitrievna's anteroom the footman who helped him off with his
+fur coat said that the mistress asked him to come to her bedroom.
+
+When he opened the ballroom door Pierre saw Natasha sitting at the
+window, with a thin, pale, and spiteful face. She glanced round at him,
+frowned, and left the room with an expression of cold dignity.
+
+"What has happened?" asked Pierre, entering Marya Dmitrievna's room.
+
+"Fine doings!" answered Dmitrievna. "For fifty-eight years have I lived
+in this world and never known anything so disgraceful!"
+
+And having put him on his honor not to repeat anything she told him,
+Marya Dmitrievna informed him that Natasha had refused Prince Andrew
+without her parents' knowledge and that the cause of this was Anatole
+Kuragin into whose society Pierre's wife had thrown her and with whom
+Natasha had tried to elope during her father's absence, in order to be
+married secretly.
+
+Pierre raised his shoulders and listened open-mouthed to what was told
+him, scarcely able to believe his own ears. That Prince Andrew's deeply
+loved affianced wife--the same Natasha Rostova who used to be so
+charming--should give up Bolkonski for that fool Anatole who was already
+secretly married (as Pierre knew), and should be so in love with him as
+to agree to run away with him, was something Pierre could not conceive
+and could not imagine.
+
+He could not reconcile the charming impression he had of Natasha, whom
+he had known from a child, with this new conception of her baseness,
+folly, and cruelty. He thought of his wife. "They are all alike!" he
+said to himself, reflecting that he was not the only man unfortunate
+enough to be tied to a bad woman. But still he pitied Prince Andrew to
+the point of tears and sympathized with his wounded pride, and the more
+he pitied his friend the more did he think with contempt and even with
+disgust of that Natasha who had just passed him in the ballroom with
+such a look of cold dignity. He did not know that Natasha's soul was
+overflowing with despair, shame, and humiliation, and that it was not
+her fault that her face happened to assume an expression of calm dignity
+and severity.
+
+"But how get married?" said Pierre, in answer to Marya Dmitrievna. "He
+could not marry--he is married!"
+
+"Things get worse from hour to hour!" ejaculated Marya Dmitrievna. "A
+nice youth! What a scoundrel! And she's expecting him--expecting him
+since yesterday. She must be told! Then at least she won't go on
+expecting him."
+
+After hearing the details of Anatole's marriage from Pierre, and giving
+vent to her anger against Anatole in words of abuse, Marya Dmitrievna
+told Pierre why she had sent for him. She was afraid that the count or
+Bolkonski, who might arrive at any moment, if they knew of this affair
+(which she hoped to hide from them) might challenge Anatole to a duel,
+and she therefore asked Pierre to tell his brother-in-law in her name to
+leave Moscow and not dare to let her set eyes on him again. Pierre--only
+now realizing the danger to the old count, Nicholas, and Prince Andrew--
+promised to do as she wished. Having briefly and exactly explained her
+wishes to him, she let him go to the drawing room.
+
+"Mind, the count knows nothing. Behave as if you know nothing either,"
+she said. "And I will go and tell her it is no use expecting him! And
+stay to dinner if you care to!" she called after Pierre.
+
+Pierre met the old count, who seemed nervous and upset. That morning
+Natasha had told him that she had rejected Bolkonski.
+
+"Troubles, troubles, my dear fellow!" he said to Pierre. "What troubles
+one has with these girls without their mother! I do so regret having
+come here.... I will be frank with you. Have you heard she has broken
+off her engagement without consulting anybody? It's true this engagement
+never was much to my liking. Of course he is an excellent man, but
+still, with his father's disapproval they wouldn't have been happy, and
+Natasha won't lack suitors. Still, it has been going on so long, and to
+take such a step without father's or mother's consent! And now she's
+ill, and God knows what! It's hard, Count, hard to manage daughters in
+their mother's absence...."
+
+Pierre saw that the count was much upset and tried to change the
+subject, but the count returned to his troubles.
+
+Sonya entered the room with an agitated face.
+
+"Natasha is not quite well; she's in her room and would like to see you.
+Marya Dmitrievna is with her and she too asks you to come."
+
+"Yes, you are a great friend of Bolkonski's, no doubt she wants to send
+him a message," said the count. "Oh dear! Oh dear! How happy it all
+was!"
+
+And clutching the spare gray locks on his temples the count left the
+room.
+
+When Marya Dmitrievna told Natasha that Anatole was married, Natasha did
+not wish to believe it and insisted on having it confirmed by Pierre
+himself. Sonya told Pierre this as she led him along the corridor to
+Natasha's room.
+
+Natasha, pale and stern, was sitting beside Marya Dmitrievna, and her
+eyes, glittering feverishly, met Pierre with a questioning look the
+moment he entered. She did not smile or nod, but only gazed fixedly at
+him, and her look asked only one thing: was he a friend, or like the
+others an enemy in regard to Anatole? As for Pierre, he evidently did
+not exist for her.
+
+"He knows all about it," said Marya Dmitrievna pointing to Pierre and
+addressing Natasha. "Let him tell you whether I have told the truth."
+
+Natasha looked from one to the other as a hunted and wounded animal
+looks at the approaching dogs and sportsmen.
+
+"Natalya Ilynichna," Pierre began, dropping his eyes with a feeling of
+pity for her and loathing for the thing he had to do, "whether it is
+true or not should make no difference to you, because..."
+
+"Then it is not true that he's married!"
+
+"Yes, it is true."
+
+"Has he been married long?" she asked. "On your honor?..."
+
+Pierre gave his word of honor.
+
+"Is he still here?" she asked, quickly.
+
+"Yes, I have just seen him."
+
+She was evidently unable to speak and made a sign with her hands that
+they should leave her alone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+Pierre did not stay for dinner, but left the room and went away at once.
+He drove through the town seeking Anatole Kuragin, at the thought of
+whom now the blood rushed to his heart and he felt a difficulty in
+breathing. He was not at the ice hills, nor at the gypsies', nor at
+Komoneno's. Pierre drove to the club. In the club all was going on as
+usual. The members who were assembling for dinner were sitting about in
+groups; they greeted Pierre and spoke of the town news. The footman
+having greeted him, knowing his habits and his acquaintances, told him
+there was a place left for him in the small dining room and that Prince
+Michael Zakharych was in the library, but Paul Timofeevich had not yet
+arrived. One of Pierre's acquaintances, while they were talking about
+the weather, asked if he had heard of Kuragin's abduction of Rostova
+which was talked of in the town, and was it true? Pierre laughed and
+said it was nonsense for he had just come from the Rostovs'. He asked
+everyone about Anatole. One man told him he had not come yet, and
+another that he was coming to dinner. Pierre felt it strange to see this
+calm, indifferent crowd of people unaware of what was going on in his
+soul. He paced through the ballroom, waited till everyone had come, and
+as Anatole had not turned up did not stay for dinner but drove home.
+
+Anatole, for whom Pierre was looking, dined that day with Dolokhov,
+consulting him as to how to remedy this unfortunate affair. It seemed to
+him essential to see Natasha. In the evening he drove to his sister's to
+discuss with her how to arrange a meeting. When Pierre returned home
+after vainly hunting all over Moscow, his valet informed him that Prince
+Anatole was with the countess. The countess' drawing room was full of
+guests.
+
+Pierre without greeting his wife whom he had not seen since his return--
+at that moment she was more repulsive to him than ever--entered the
+drawing room and seeing Anatole went up to him.
+
+"Ah, Pierre," said the countess going up to her husband. "You don't know
+what a plight our Anatole..."
+
+She stopped, seeing in the forward thrust of her husband's head, in his
+glowing eyes and his resolute gait, the terrible indications of that
+rage and strength which she knew and had herself experienced after his
+duel with Dolokhov.
+
+"Where you are, there is vice and evil!" said Pierre to his wife.
+"Anatole, come with me! I must speak to you," he added in French.
+
+Anatole glanced round at his sister and rose submissively, ready to
+follow Pierre. Pierre, taking him by the arm, pulled him toward himself
+and was leading him from the room.
+
+"If you allow yourself in my drawing room..." whispered Helene, but
+Pierre did not reply and went out of the room.
+
+Anatole followed him with his usual jaunty step but his face betrayed
+anxiety.
+
+Having entered his study Pierre closed the door and addressed Anatole
+without looking at him.
+
+"You promised Countess Rostova to marry her and were about to elope with
+her, is that so?"
+
+"Mon cher," answered Anatole (their whole conversation was in French),
+"I don't consider myself bound to answer questions put to me in that
+tone."
+
+Pierre's face, already pale, became distorted by fury. He seized Anatole
+by the collar of his uniform with his big hand and shook him from side
+to side till Anatole's face showed a sufficient degree of terror.
+
+"When I tell you that I must talk to you!..." repeated Pierre.
+
+"Come now, this is stupid. What?" said Anatole, fingering a button of
+his collar that had been wrenched loose with a bit of the cloth.
+
+"You're a scoundrel and a blackguard, and I don't know what deprives me
+from the pleasure of smashing your head with this!" said Pierre,
+expressing himself so artificially because he was talking French.
+
+He took a heavy paperweight and lifted it threateningly, but at once put
+it back in its place.
+
+"Did you promise to marry her?"
+
+"I... I didn't think of it. I never promised, because..."
+
+Pierre interrupted him.
+
+"Have you any letters of hers? Any letters?" he said, moving toward
+Anatole.
+
+Anatole glanced at him and immediately thrust his hand into his pocket
+and drew out his pocketbook.
+
+Pierre took the letter Anatole handed him and, pushing aside a table
+that stood in his way, threw himself on the sofa.
+
+"I shan't be violent, don't be afraid!" said Pierre in answer to a
+frightened gesture of Anatole's. "First, the letters," said he, as if
+repeating a lesson to himself. "Secondly," he continued after a short
+pause, again rising and again pacing the room, "tomorrow you must get
+out of Moscow."
+
+"But how can I?..."
+
+"Thirdly," Pierre continued without listening to him, "you must never
+breathe a word of what has passed between you and Countess Rostova. I
+know I can't prevent your doing so, but if you have a spark of
+conscience..." Pierre paced the room several times in silence.
+
+Anatole sat at a table frowning and biting his lips.
+
+"After all, you must understand that besides your pleasure there is such
+a thing as other people's happiness and peace, and that you are ruining
+a whole life for the sake of amusing yourself! Amuse yourself with women
+like my wife--with them you are within your rights, for they know what
+you want of them. They are armed against you by the same experience of
+debauchery; but to promise a maid to marry her... to deceive, to
+kidnap.... Don't you understand that it is as mean as beating an old man
+or a child?..."
+
+Pierre paused and looked at Anatole no longer with an angry but with a
+questioning look.
+
+"I don't know about that, eh?" said Anatole, growing more confident as
+Pierre mastered his wrath. "I don't know that and don't want to," he
+said, not looking at Pierre and with a slight tremor of his lower jaw,
+"but you have used such words to me--'mean' and so on--which as a man of
+honor I can't allow anyone to use."
+
+Pierre glanced at him with amazement, unable to understand what he
+wanted.
+
+"Though it was tête-à-tête," Anatole continued, "still I can't..."
+
+"Is it satisfaction you want?" said Pierre ironically.
+
+"You could at least take back your words. What? If you want me to do as
+you wish, eh?"
+
+"I take them back, I take them back!" said Pierre, "and I ask you to
+forgive me." Pierre involuntarily glanced at the loose button. "And if
+you require money for your journey..."
+
+Anatole smiled. The expression of that base and cringing smile, which
+Pierre knew so well in his wife, revolted him.
+
+"Oh, vile and heartless brood!" he exclaimed, and left the room.
+
+Next day Anatole left for Petersburg.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+Pierre drove to Marya Dmitrievna's to tell her of the fulfillment of her
+wish that Kuragin should be banished from Moscow. The whole house was in
+a state of alarm and commotion. Natasha was very ill, having, as Marya
+Dmitrievna told him in secret, poisoned herself the night after she had
+been told that Anatole was married, with some arsenic she had stealthily
+procured. After swallowing a little she had been so frightened that she
+woke Sonya and told her what she had done. The necessary antidotes had
+been administered in time and she was now out of danger, though still so
+weak that it was out of the question to move her to the country, and so
+the countess had been sent for. Pierre saw the distracted count, and
+Sonya, who had a tear-stained face, but he could not see Natasha.
+
+Pierre dined at the club that day and heard on all sides gossip about
+the attempted abduction of Rostova. He resolutely denied these rumors,
+assuring everyone that nothing had happened except that his brother-in-
+law had proposed to her and been refused. It seemed to Pierre that it
+was his duty to conceal the whole affair and re-establish Natasha's
+reputation.
+
+He was awaiting Prince Andrew's return with dread and went every day to
+the old prince's for news of him.
+
+Old Prince Bolkonski heard all the rumors current in the town from
+Mademoiselle Bourienne and had read the note to Princess Mary in which
+Natasha had broken off her engagement. He seemed in better spirits than
+usual and awaited his son with great impatience.
+
+Some days after Anatole's departure Pierre received a note from Prince
+Andrew, informing him of his arrival and asking him to come to see him.
+
+As soon as he reached Moscow, Prince Andrew had received from his father
+Natasha's note to Princess Mary breaking off her engagement
+(Mademoiselle Bourienne had purloined it from Princess Mary and given it
+to the old prince), and he heard from him the story of Natasha's
+elopement, with additions.
+
+Prince Andrew had arrived in the evening and Pierre came to see him next
+morning. Pierre expected to find Prince Andrew in almost the same state
+as Natasha and was therefore surprised on entering the drawing room to
+hear him in the study talking in a loud animated voice about some
+intrigue going on in Petersburg. The old prince's voice and another now
+and then interrupted him. Princess Mary came out to meet Pierre. She
+sighed, looking toward the door of the room where Prince Andrew was,
+evidently intending to express her sympathy with his sorrow, but Pierre
+saw by her face that she was glad both at what had happened and at the
+way her brother had taken the news of Natasha's faithlessness.
+
+"He says he expected it," she remarked. "I know his pride will not let
+him express his feelings, but still he has taken it better, far better,
+than I expected. Evidently it had to be...."
+
+"But is it possible that all is really ended?" asked Pierre.
+
+Princess Mary looked at him with astonishment. She did not understand
+how he could ask such a question. Pierre went into the study. Prince
+Andrew, greatly changed and plainly in better health, but with a fresh
+horizontal wrinkle between his brows, stood in civilian dress facing his
+father and Prince Meshcherski, warmly disputing and vigorously
+gesticulating. The conversation was about Speranski--the news of whose
+sudden exile and alleged treachery had just reached Moscow.
+
+"Now he is censured and accused by all who were enthusiastic about him a
+month ago," Prince Andrew was saying, "and by those who were unable to
+understand his aims. To judge a man who is in disfavor and to throw on
+him all the blame of other men's mistakes is very easy, but I maintain
+that if anything good has been accomplished in this reign it was done by
+him, by him alone."
+
+He paused at the sight of Pierre. His face quivered and immediately
+assumed a vindictive expression.
+
+"Posterity will do him justice," he concluded, and at once turned to
+Pierre.
+
+"Well, how are you? Still getting stouter?" he said with animation, but
+the new wrinkle on his forehead deepened. "Yes, I am well," he said in
+answer to Pierre's question, and smiled.
+
+To Pierre that smile said plainly: "I am well, but my health is now of
+no use to anyone."
+
+After a few words to Pierre about the awful roads from the Polish
+frontier, about people he had met in Switzerland who knew Pierre, and
+about M. Dessalles, whom he had brought from abroad to be his son's
+tutor, Prince Andrew again joined warmly in the conversation about
+Speranski which was still going on between the two old men.
+
+"If there were treason, or proofs of secret relations with Napoleon,
+they would have been made public," he said with warmth and haste. "I do
+not, and never did, like Speranski personally, but I like justice!"
+
+Pierre now recognized in his friend a need with which he was only too
+familiar, to get excited and to have arguments about extraneous matters
+in order to stifle thoughts that were too oppressive and too intimate.
+When Prince Meshcherski had left, Prince Andrew took Pierre's arm and
+asked him into the room that had been assigned him. A bed had been made
+up there, and some open portmanteaus and trunks stood about. Prince
+Andrew went to one and took out a small casket, from which he drew a
+packet wrapped in paper. He did it all silently and very quickly. He
+stood up and coughed. His face was gloomy and his lips compressed.
+
+"Forgive me for troubling you..."
+
+Pierre saw that Prince Andrew was going to speak of Natasha, and his
+broad face expressed pity and sympathy. This expression irritated Prince
+Andrew, and in a determined, ringing, and unpleasant tone he continued:
+
+"I have received a refusal from Countess Rostova and have heard reports
+of your brother-in-law having sought her hand, or something of that
+kind. Is that true?"
+
+"Both true and untrue," Pierre began; but Prince Andrew interrupted him.
+
+"Here are her letters and her portrait," said he.
+
+He took the packet from the table and handed it to Pierre.
+
+"Give this to the countess... if you see her."
+
+"She is very ill," said Pierre.
+
+"Then she is here still?" said Prince Andrew. "And Prince Kuragin?" he
+added quickly.
+
+"He left long ago. She has been at death's door."
+
+"I much regret her illness," said Prince Andrew; and he smiled like his
+father, coldly, maliciously, and unpleasantly.
+
+"So Monsieur Kuragin has not honored Countess Rostova with his hand?"
+said Prince Andrew, and he snorted several times.
+
+"He could not marry, for he was married already," said Pierre.
+
+Prince Andrew laughed disagreeably, again reminding one of his father.
+
+"And where is your brother-in-law now, if I may ask?" he said.
+
+"He has gone to Peters... But I don't know," said Pierre.
+
+"Well, it doesn't matter," said Prince Andrew. "Tell Countess Rostova
+that she was and is perfectly free and that I wish her all that is
+good."
+
+Pierre took the packet. Prince Andrew, as if trying to remember whether
+he had something more to say, or waiting to see if Pierre would say
+anything, looked fixedly at him.
+
+"I say, do you remember our discussion in Petersburg?" asked Pierre,
+"about..."
+
+"Yes," returned Prince Andrew hastily. "I said that a fallen woman
+should be forgiven, but I didn't say I could forgive her. I can't."
+
+"But can this be compared...?" said Pierre.
+
+Prince Andrew interrupted him and cried sharply: "Yes, ask her hand
+again, be magnanimous, and so on?... Yes, that would be very noble, but
+I am unable to follow in that gentleman's footsteps. If you wish to be
+my friend never speak to me of that... of all that! Well, good-by. So
+you'll give her the packet?"
+
+Pierre left the room and went to the old prince and Princess Mary.
+
+The old man seemed livelier than usual. Princess Mary was the same as
+always, but beneath her sympathy for her brother, Pierre noticed her
+satisfaction that the engagement had been broken off. Looking at them
+Pierre realized what contempt and animosity they all felt for the
+Rostovs, and that it was impossible in their presence even to mention
+the name of her who could give up Prince Andrew for anyone else.
+
+At dinner the talk turned on the war, the approach of which was becoming
+evident. Prince Andrew talked incessantly, arguing now with his father,
+now with the Swiss tutor Dessalles, and showing an unnatural animation,
+the cause of which Pierre so well understood.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+That same evening Pierre went to the Rostovs' to fulfill the commission
+entrusted to him. Natasha was in bed, the count at the club, and Pierre,
+after giving the letters to Sonya, went to Marya Dmitrievna who was
+interested to know how Prince Andrew had taken the news. Ten minutes
+later Sonya came to Marya Dmitrievna.
+
+"Natasha insists on seeing Count Peter Kirilovich," said she.
+
+"But how? Are we to take him up to her? The room there has not been
+tidied up."
+
+"No, she has dressed and gone into the drawing room," said Sonya.
+
+Marya Dmitrievna only shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"When will her mother come? She has worried me to death! Now mind, don't
+tell her everything!" said she to Pierre. "One hasn't the heart to scold
+her, she is so much to be pitied, so much to be pitied."
+
+Natasha was standing in the middle of the drawing room, emaciated, with
+a pale set face, but not at all shamefaced as Pierre expected to find
+her. When he appeared at the door she grew flurried, evidently undecided
+whether to go to meet him or to wait till he came up.
+
+Pierre hastened to her. He thought she would give him her hand as usual;
+but she, stepping up to him, stopped, breathing heavily, her arms
+hanging lifelessly just in the pose she used to stand in when she went
+to the middle of the ballroom to sing, but with quite a different
+expression of face.
+
+"Peter Kirilovich," she began rapidly, "Prince Bolkonski was your
+friend--is your friend," she corrected herself. (It seemed to her that
+everything that had once been must now be different.) "He told me once
+to apply to you..."
+
+Pierre sniffed as he looked at her, but did not speak. Till then he had
+reproached her in his heart and tried to despise her, but he now felt so
+sorry for her that there was no room in his soul for reproach.
+
+"He is here now: tell him... to for... forgive me!" She stopped and
+breathed still more quickly, but did not shed tears.
+
+"Yes... I will tell him," answered Pierre; "but..."
+
+He did not know what to say.
+
+Natasha was evidently dismayed at the thought of what he might think she
+had meant.
+
+"No, I know all is over," she said hurriedly. "No, that can never be.
+I'm only tormented by the wrong I have done him. Tell him only that I
+beg him to forgive, forgive, forgive me for everything...."
+
+She trembled all over and sat down on a chair.
+
+A sense of pity he had never before known overflowed Pierre's heart.
+
+"I will tell him, I will tell him everything once more," said Pierre.
+"But... I should like to know one thing...."
+
+"Know what?" Natasha's eyes asked.
+
+"I should like to know, did you love..." Pierre did not know how to
+refer to Anatole and flushed at the thought of him--"did you love that
+bad man?"
+
+"Don't call him bad!" said Natasha. "But I don't know, don't know at
+all...."
+
+She began to cry and a still greater sense of pity, tenderness, and love
+welled up in Pierre. He felt the tears trickle under his spectacles and
+hoped they would not be noticed.
+
+"We won't speak of it any more, my dear," said Pierre, and his gentle,
+cordial tone suddenly seemed very strange to Natasha.
+
+"We won't speak of it, my dear--I'll tell him everything; but one thing
+I beg of you, consider me your friend and if you want help, advice, or
+simply to open your heart to someone--not now, but when your mind is
+clearer think of me!" He took her hand and kissed it. "I shall be happy
+if it's in my power..."
+
+Pierre grew confused.
+
+"Don't speak to me like that. I am not worth it!" exclaimed Natasha and
+turned to leave the room, but Pierre held her hand.
+
+He knew he had something more to say to her. But when he said it he was
+amazed at his own words.
+
+"Stop, stop! You have your whole life before you," said he to her.
+
+
+"Before me? No! All is over for me," she replied with shame and self-
+abasement.
+
+"All over?" he repeated. "If I were not myself, but the handsomest,
+cleverest, and best man in the world, and were free, I would this moment
+ask on my knees for your hand and your love!"
+
+For the first time for many days Natasha wept tears of gratitude and
+tenderness, and glancing at Pierre she went out of the room.
+
+Pierre too when she had gone almost ran into the anteroom, restraining
+tears of tenderness and joy that choked him, and without finding the
+sleeves of his fur cloak threw it on and got into his sleigh.
+
+"Where to now, your excellency?" asked the coachman.
+
+"Where to?" Pierre asked himself. "Where can I go now? Surely not to the
+club or to pay calls?" All men seemed so pitiful, so poor, in comparison
+with this feeling of tenderness and love he experienced: in comparison
+with that softened, grateful, last look she had given him through her
+tears.
+
+"Home!" said Pierre, and despite twenty-two degrees of frost Fahrenheit
+he threw open the bearskin cloak from his broad chest and inhaled the
+air with joy.
+
+It was clear and frosty. Above the dirty, ill-lit streets, above the
+black roofs, stretched the dark starry sky. Only looking up at the sky
+did Pierre cease to feel how sordid and humiliating were all mundane
+things compared with the heights to which his soul had just been raised.
+At the entrance to the Arbat Square an immense expanse of dark starry
+sky presented itself to his eyes. Almost in the center of it, above the
+Prechistenka Boulevard, surrounded and sprinkled on all sides by stars
+but distinguished from them all by its nearness to the earth, its white
+light, and its long uplifted tail, shone the enormous and brilliant
+comet of 1812--the comet which was said to portend all kinds of woes and
+the end of the world. In Pierre, however, that comet with its long
+luminous tail aroused no feeling of fear. On the contrary he gazed
+joyfully, his eyes moist with tears, at this bright comet which, having
+traveled in its orbit with inconceivable velocity through immeasurable
+space, seemed suddenly--like an arrow piercing the earth--to remain
+fixed in a chosen spot, vigorously holding its tail erect, shining and
+displaying its white light amid countless other scintillating stars. It
+seemed to Pierre that this comet fully responded to what was passing in
+his own softened and uplifted soul, now blossoming into a new life.
+
+BOOK NINE: 1812
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+From the close of the year 1811 intensified arming and concentrating of
+the forces of Western Europe began, and in 1812 these forces--millions
+of men, reckoning those transporting and feeding the army--moved from
+the west eastwards to the Russian frontier, toward which since 1811
+Russian forces had been similarly drawn. On the twelfth of June, 1812,
+the forces of Western Europe crossed the Russian frontier and war began,
+that is, an event took place opposed to human reason and to human
+nature. Millions of men perpetrated against one another such innumerable
+crimes, frauds, treacheries, thefts, forgeries, issues of false money,
+burglaries, incendiarisms, and murders as in whole centuries are not
+recorded in the annals of all the law courts of the world, but which
+those who committed them did not at the time regard as being crimes.
+
+What produced this extraordinary occurrence? What were its causes? The
+historians tell us with naive assurance that its causes were the wrongs
+inflicted on the Duke of Oldenburg, the nonobservance of the Continental
+System, the ambition of Napoleon, the firmness of Alexander, the
+mistakes of the diplomatists, and so on.
+
+Consequently, it would only have been necessary for Metternich,
+Rumyantsev, or Talleyrand, between a levee and an evening party, to have
+taken proper pains and written a more adroit note, or for Napoleon to
+have written to Alexander: "My respected Brother, I consent to restore
+the duchy to the Duke of Oldenburg"--and there would have been no war.
+
+We can understand that the matter seemed like that to contemporaries. It
+naturally seemed to Napoleon that the war was caused by England's
+intrigues (as in fact he said on the island of St. Helena). It naturally
+seemed to members of the English Parliament that the cause of the war
+was Napoleon's ambition; to the Duke of Oldenburg, that the cause of the
+war was the violence done to him; to businessmen that the cause of the
+war was the Continental System which was ruining Europe; to the generals
+and old soldiers that the chief reason for the war was the necessity of
+giving them employment; to the legitimists of that day that it was the
+need of re-establishing les bons principes, and to the diplomatists of
+that time that it all resulted from the fact that the alliance between
+Russia and Austria in 1809 had not been sufficiently well concealed from
+Napoleon, and from the awkward wording of Memorandum No. 178. It is
+natural that these and a countless and infinite quantity of other
+reasons, the number depending on the endless diversity of points of
+view, presented themselves to the men of that day; but to us, to
+posterity who view the thing that happened in all its magnitude and
+perceive its plain and terrible meaning, these causes seem insufficient.
+To us it is incomprehensible that millions of Christian men killed and
+tortured each other either because Napoleon was ambitious or Alexander
+was firm, or because England's policy was astute or the Duke of
+Oldenburg wronged. We cannot grasp what connection such circumstances
+have with the actual fact of slaughter and violence: why because the
+Duke was wronged, thousands of men from the other side of Europe killed
+and ruined the people of Smolensk and Moscow and were killed by them.
+
+To us, their descendants, who are not historians and are not carried
+away by the process of research and can therefore regard the event with
+unclouded common sense, an incalculable number of causes present
+themselves. The deeper we delve in search of these causes the more of
+them we find; and each separate cause or whole series of causes appears
+to us equally valid in itself and equally false by its insignificance
+compared to the magnitude of the events, and by its impotence--apart
+from the cooperation of all the other coincident causes--to occasion the
+event. To us, the wish or objection of this or that French corporal to
+serve a second term appears as much a cause as Napoleon's refusal to
+withdraw his troops beyond the Vistula and to restore the duchy of
+Oldenburg; for had he not wished to serve, and had a second, a third,
+and a thousandth corporal and private also refused, there would have
+been so many less men in Napoleon's army and the war could not have
+occurred.
+
+Had Napoleon not taken offense at the demand that he should withdraw
+beyond the Vistula, and not ordered his troops to advance, there would
+have been no war; but had all his sergeants objected to serving a second
+term then also there could have been no war. Nor could there have been a
+war had there been no English intrigues and no Duke of Oldenburg, and
+had Alexander not felt insulted, and had there not been an autocratic
+government in Russia, or a Revolution in France and a subsequent
+dictatorship and Empire, or all the things that produced the French
+Revolution, and so on. Without each of these causes nothing could have
+happened. So all these causes--myriads of causes--coincided to bring it
+about. And so there was no one cause for that occurrence, but it had to
+occur because it had to. Millions of men, renouncing their human
+feelings and reason, had to go from west to east to slay their fellows,
+just as some centuries previously hordes of men had come from the east
+to the west, slaying their fellows.
+
+The actions of Napoleon and Alexander, on whose words the event seemed
+to hang, were as little voluntary as the actions of any soldier who was
+drawn into the campaign by lot or by conscription. This could not be
+otherwise, for in order that the will of Napoleon and Alexander (on whom
+the event seemed to depend) should be carried out, the concurrence of
+innumerable circumstances was needed without any one of which the event
+could not have taken place. It was necessary that millions of men in
+whose hands lay the real power--the soldiers who fired, or transported
+provisions and guns--should consent to carry out the will of these weak
+individuals, and should have been induced to do so by an infinite number
+of diverse and complex causes.
+
+We are forced to fall back on fatalism as an explanation of irrational
+events (that is to say, events the reasonableness of which we do not
+understand). The more we try to explain such events in history
+reasonably, the more unreasonable and incomprehensible do they become to
+us.
+
+Each man lives for himself, using his freedom to attain his personal
+aims, and feels with his whole being that he can now do or abstain from
+doing this or that action; but as soon as he has done it, that action
+performed at a certain moment in time becomes irrevocable and belongs to
+history, in which it has not a free but a predestined significance.
+
+There are two sides to the life of every man, his individual life, which
+is the more free the more abstract its interests, and his elemental hive
+life in which he inevitably obeys laws laid down for him.
+
+Man lives consciously for himself, but is an unconscious instrument in
+the attainment of the historic, universal, aims of humanity. A deed done
+is irrevocable, and its result coinciding in time with the actions of
+millions of other men assumes an historic significance. The higher a man
+stands on the social ladder, the more people he is connected with and
+the more power he has over others, the more evident is the
+predestination and inevitability of his every action.
+
+"The king's heart is in the hands of the Lord."
+
+A king is history's slave.
+
+History, that is, the unconscious, general, hive life of mankind, uses
+every moment of the life of kings as a tool for its own purposes.
+
+Though Napoleon at that time, in 1812, was more convinced than ever that
+it depended on him, verser (ou ne pas verser) le sang de ses peuples *--
+as Alexander expressed it in the last letter he wrote him--he had never
+been so much in the grip of inevitable laws, which compelled him, while
+thinking that he was acting on his own volition, to perform for the hive
+life--that is to say, for history--whatever had to be performed.
+
+
+* "To shed (or not to shed) the blood of his peoples."
+
+The people of the west moved eastwards to slay their fellow men, and by
+the law of coincidence thousands of minute causes fitted in and co-
+ordinated to produce that movement and war: reproaches for the
+nonobservance of the Continental System, the Duke of Oldenburg's wrongs,
+the movement of troops into Prussia--undertaken (as it seemed to
+Napoleon) only for the purpose of securing an armed peace, the French
+Emperor's love and habit of war coinciding with his people's
+inclinations, allurement by the grandeur of the preparations, and the
+expenditure on those preparations and the need of obtaining advantages
+to compensate for that expenditure, the intoxicating honors he received
+in Dresden, the diplomatic negotiations which, in the opinion of
+contemporaries, were carried on with a sincere desire to attain peace,
+but which only wounded the self-love of both sides, and millions of
+other causes that adapted themselves to the event that was happening or
+coincided with it.
+
+When an apple has ripened and falls, why does it fall? Because of its
+attraction to the earth, because its stalk withers, because it is dried
+by the sun, because it grows heavier, because the wind shakes it, or
+because the boy standing below wants to eat it?
+
+Nothing is the cause. All this is only the coincidence of conditions in
+which all vital organic and elemental events occur. And the botanist who
+finds that the apple falls because the cellular tissue decays and so
+forth is equally right with the child who stands under the tree and says
+the apple fell because he wanted to eat it and prayed for it. Equally
+right or wrong is he who says that Napoleon went to Moscow because he
+wanted to, and perished because Alexander desired his destruction, and
+he who says that an undermined hill weighing a million tons fell because
+the last navvy struck it for the last time with his mattock. In historic
+events the so-called great men are labels giving names to events, and
+like labels they have but the smallest connection with the event itself.
+
+Every act of theirs, which appears to them an act of their own will, is
+in an historical sense involuntary and is related to the whole course of
+history and predestined from eternity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+On the twenty-ninth of May Napoleon left Dresden, where he had spent
+three weeks surrounded by a court that included princes, dukes, kings,
+and even an emperor. Before leaving, Napoleon showed favor to the
+emperor, kings, and princes who had deserved it, reprimanded the kings
+and princes with whom he was dissatisfied, presented pearls and diamonds
+of his own--that is, which he had taken from other kings--to the Empress
+of Austria, and having, as his historian tells us, tenderly embraced the
+Empress Marie Louise--who regarded him as her husband, though he had
+left another wife in Paris--left her grieved by the parting which she
+seemed hardly able to bear. Though the diplomatists still firmly
+believed in the possibility of peace and worked zealously to that end,
+and though the Emperor Napoleon himself wrote a letter to Alexander,
+calling him Monsieur mon frere, and sincerely assured him that he did
+not want war and would always love and honor him--yet he set off to join
+his army, and at every station gave fresh orders to accelerate the
+movement of his troops from west to east. He went in a traveling coach
+with six horses, surrounded by pages, aides-de-camp, and an escort,
+along the road to Posen, Thorn, Danzig, and Konigsberg. At each of these
+towns thousands of people met him with excitement and enthusiasm.
+
+The army was moving from west to east, and relays of six horses carried
+him in the same direction. On the tenth of June, * coming up with the
+army, he spent the night in apartments prepared for him on the estate of
+a Polish count in the Vilkavisski forest.
+
+
+* Old style.
+
+Next day, overtaking the army, he went in a carriage to the Niemen, and,
+changing into a Polish uniform, he drove to the riverbank in order to
+select a place for the crossing.
+
+Seeing, on the other side, some Cossacks (les Cosaques) and the wide-
+spreading steppes in the midst of which lay the holy city of Moscow
+(Moscou, la ville sainte), the capital of a realm such as the Scythia
+into which Alexander the Great had marched--Napoleon unexpectedly, and
+contrary alike to strategic and diplomatic considerations, ordered an
+advance, and the next day his army began to cross the Niemen.
+
+Early in the morning of the twelfth of June he came out of his tent,
+which was pitched that day on the steep left bank of the Niemen, and
+looked through a spyglass at the streams of his troops pouring out of
+the Vilkavisski forest and flowing over the three bridges thrown across
+the river. The troops, knowing of the Emperor's presence, were on the
+lookout for him, and when they caught sight of a figure in an overcoat
+and a cocked hat standing apart from his suite in front of his tent on
+the hill, they threw up their caps and shouted: "Vive l'Empereur!" and
+one after another poured in a ceaseless stream out of the vast forest
+that had concealed them and, separating, flowed on and on by the three
+bridges to the other side.
+
+"Now we'll go into action. Oh, when he takes it in hand himself, things
+get hot... by heaven!... There he is!... Vive l'Empereur! So these are
+the steppes of Asia! It's a nasty country all the same. Au revoir,
+Beauche; I'll keep the best palace in Moscow for you! Au revoir. Good
+luck!... Did you see the Emperor? Vive l'Empereur!... preur!--If they
+make me Governor of India, Gerard, I'll make you Minister of Kashmir--
+that's settled. Vive l'Empereur! Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! The Cossacks--
+those rascals--see how they run! Vive l'Empereur! There he is, do you
+see him? I've seen him twice, as I see you now. The little corporal... I
+saw him give the cross to one of the veterans.... Vive l'Empereur!" came
+the voices of men, old and young, of most diverse characters and social
+positions. On the faces of all was one common expression of joy at the
+commencement of the long-expected campaign and of rapture and devotion
+to the man in the gray coat who was standing on the hill.
+
+On the thirteenth of June a rather small, thoroughbred Arab horse was
+brought to Napoleon. He mounted it and rode at a gallop to one of the
+bridges over the Niemen, deafened continually by incessant and rapturous
+acclamations which he evidently endured only because it was impossible
+to forbid the soldiers to express their love of him by such shouting,
+but the shouting which accompanied him everywhere disturbed him and
+distracted him from the military cares that had occupied him from the
+time he joined the army. He rode across one of the swaying pontoon
+bridges to the farther side, turned sharply to the left, and galloped in
+the direction of Kovno, preceded by enraptured, mounted chasseurs of the
+Guard who, breathless with delight, galloped ahead to clear a path for
+him through the troops. On reaching the broad river Viliya, he stopped
+near a regiment of Polish uhlans stationed by the river.
+
+"Vivat!" shouted the Poles, ecstatically, breaking their ranks and
+pressing against one another to see him.
+
+Napoleon looked up and down the river, dismounted, and sat down on a log
+that lay on the bank. At a mute sign from him, a telescope was handed
+him which he rested on the back of a happy page who had run up to him,
+and he gazed at the opposite bank. Then he became absorbed in a map laid
+out on the logs. Without lifting his head he said something, and two of
+his aides-de-camp galloped off to the Polish uhlans.
+
+"What? What did he say?" was heard in the ranks of the Polish uhlans
+when one of the aides-de-camp rode up to them.
+
+The order was to find a ford and to cross the river. The colonel of the
+Polish uhlans, a handsome old man, flushed and, fumbling in his speech
+from excitement, asked the aide-de-camp whether he would be permitted to
+swim the river with his uhlans instead of seeking a ford. In evident
+fear of refusal, like a boy asking for permission to get on a horse, he
+begged to be allowed to swim across the river before the Emperor's eyes.
+The aide-de-camp replied that probably the Emperor would not be
+displeased at this excess of zeal.
+
+As soon as the aide-de-camp had said this, the old mustached officer,
+with happy face and sparkling eyes, raised his saber, shouted "Vivat!"
+and, commanding the uhlans to follow him, spurred his horse and galloped
+into the river. He gave an angry thrust to his horse, which had grown
+restive under him, and plunged into the water, heading for the deepest
+part where the current was swift. Hundreds of uhlans galloped in after
+him. It was cold and uncanny in the rapid current in the middle of the
+stream, and the uhlans caught hold of one another as they fell off their
+horses. Some of the horses were drowned and some of the men; the others
+tried to swim on, some in the saddle and some clinging to their horses'
+manes. They tried to make their way forward to the opposite bank and,
+though there was a ford one third of a mile away, were proud that they
+were swimming and drowning in this river under the eyes of the man who
+sat on the log and was not even looking at what they were doing. When
+the aide-de-camp, having returned and choosing an opportune moment,
+ventured to draw the Emperor's attention to the devotion of the Poles to
+his person, the little man in the gray overcoat got up and, having
+summoned Berthier, began pacing up and down the bank with him, giving
+him instructions and occasionally glancing disapprovingly at the
+drowning uhlans who distracted his attention.
+
+For him it was no new conviction that his presence in any part of the
+world, from Africa to the steppes of Muscovy alike, was enough to
+dumfound people and impel them to insane self-oblivion. He called for
+his horse and rode to his quarters.
+
+Some forty uhlans were drowned in the river, though boats were sent to
+their assistance. The majority struggled back to the bank from which
+they had started. The colonel and some of his men got across and with
+difficulty clambered out on the further bank. And as soon as they had
+got out, in their soaked and streaming clothes, they shouted "Vivat!"
+and looked ecstatically at the spot where Napoleon had been but where he
+no longer was and at that moment considered themselves happy.
+
+That evening, between issuing one order that the forged Russian paper
+money prepared for use in Russia should be delivered as quickly as
+possible and another that a Saxon should be shot, on whom a letter
+containing information about the orders to the French army had been
+found, Napoleon also gave instructions that the Polish colonel who had
+needlessly plunged into the river should be enrolled in the Legion
+d'honneur of which Napoleon was himself the head.
+
+Quos vult perdere dementat. *
+
+
+* Those whom (God) wishes to destroy he drives mad.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+The Emperor of Russia had, meanwhile, been in Vilna for more than a
+month, reviewing troops and holding maneuvers. Nothing was ready for the
+war that everyone expected and to prepare for which the Emperor had come
+from Petersburg. There was no general plan of action. The vacillation
+between the various plans that were proposed had even increased after
+the Emperor had been at headquarters for a month. Each of the three
+armies had its own commander-in-chief, but there was no supreme
+commander of all the forces, and the Emperor did not assume that
+responsibility himself.
+
+The longer the Emperor remained in Vilna the less did everybody--tired
+of waiting--prepare for the war. All the efforts of those who surrounded
+the sovereign seemed directed merely to making him spend his time
+pleasantly and forget that war was impending.
+
+In June, after many balls and fetes given by the Polish magnates, by the
+courtiers, and by the Emperor himself, it occurred to one of the Polish
+aides-de-camp in attendance that a dinner and ball should be given for
+the Emperor by his aides-de-camp. This idea was eagerly received. The
+Emperor gave his consent. The aides-de-camp collected money by
+subscription. The lady who was thought to be most pleasing to the
+Emperor was invited to act as hostess. Count Bennigsen, being a
+landowner in the Vilna province, offered his country house for the fete,
+and the thirteenth of June was fixed for a ball, dinner, regatta, and
+fireworks at Zakret, Count Bennigsen's country seat.
+
+The very day that Napoleon issued the order to cross the Niemen, and his
+vanguard, driving off the Cossacks, crossed the Russian frontier,
+Alexander spent the evening at the entertainment given by his aides-de-
+camp at Bennigsen's country house.
+
+It was a gay and brilliant fete. Connoisseurs of such matters declared
+that rarely had so many beautiful women been assembled in one place.
+Countess Bezukhova was present among other Russian ladies who had
+followed the sovereign from Petersburg to Vilna and eclipsed the refined
+Polish ladies by her massive, so-called Russian type of beauty. The
+Emperor noticed her and honored her with a dance.
+
+Boris Drubetskoy, having left his wife in Moscow and being for the
+present en garcon (as he phrased it), was also there and, though not an
+aide-de-camp, had subscribed a large sum toward the expenses. Boris was
+now a rich man who had risen to high honors and no longer sought
+patronage but stood on an equal footing with the highest of those of his
+own age. He was meeting Helene in Vilna after not having seen her for a
+long time and did not recall the past, but as Helene was enjoying the
+favors of a very important personage and Boris had only recently
+married, they met as good friends of long standing.
+
+At midnight dancing was still going on. Helene, not having a suitable
+partner, herself offered to dance the mazurka with Boris. They were the
+third couple. Boris, coolly looking at Helene's dazzling bare shoulders
+which emerged from a dark, gold-embroidered, gauze gown, talked to her
+of old acquaintances and at the same time, unaware of it himself and
+unnoticed by others, never for an instant ceased to observe the Emperor
+who was in the same room. The Emperor was not dancing, he stood in the
+doorway, stopping now one pair and now another with gracious words which
+he alone knew how to utter.
+
+As the mazurka began, Boris saw that Adjutant General Balashev, one of
+those in closest attendance on the Emperor, went up to him and contrary
+to court etiquette stood near him while he was talking to a Polish lady.
+Having finished speaking to her, the Emperor looked inquiringly at
+Balashev and, evidently understanding that he only acted thus because
+there were important reasons for so doing, nodded slightly to the lady
+and turned to him. Hardly had Balashev begun to speak before a look of
+amazement appeared on the Emperor's face. He took Balashev by the arm
+and crossed the room with him, unconsciously clearing a path seven yards
+wide as the people on both sides made way for him. Boris noticed
+Arakcheev's excited face when the sovereign went out with Balashev.
+Arakcheev looked at the Emperor from under his brow and, sniffing with
+his red nose, stepped forward from the crowd as if expecting the Emperor
+to address him. (Boris understood that Arakcheev envied Balashev and was
+displeased that evidently important news had reached the Emperor
+otherwise than through himself.)
+
+But the Emperor and Balashev passed out into the illuminated garden
+without noticing Arakcheev who, holding his sword and glancing
+wrathfully around, followed some twenty paces behind them.
+
+All the time Boris was going through the figures of the mazurka, he was
+worried by the question of what news Balashev had brought and how he
+could find it out before others. In the figure in which he had to choose
+two ladies, he whispered to Helene that he meant to choose Countess
+Potocka who, he thought, had gone out onto the veranda, and glided over
+the parquet to the door opening into the garden, where, seeing Balashev
+and the Emperor returning to the veranda, he stood still. They were
+moving toward the door. Boris, fluttering as if he had not had time to
+withdraw, respectfully pressed close to the doorpost with bowed head.
+
+The Emperor, with the agitation of one who has been personally
+affronted, was finishing with these words:
+
+"To enter Russia without declaring war! I will not make peace as long as
+a single armed enemy remains in my country!" It seemed to Boris that it
+gave the Emperor pleasure to utter these words. He was satisfied with
+the form in which he had expressed his thoughts, but displeased that
+Boris had overheard it.
+
+"Let no one know of it!" the Emperor added with a frown.
+
+Boris understood that this was meant for him and, closing his eyes,
+slightly bowed his head. The Emperor re-entered the ballroom and
+remained there about another half-hour.
+
+Boris was thus the first to learn the news that the French army had
+crossed the Niemen and, thanks to this, was able to show certain
+important personages that much that was concealed from others was
+usually known to him, and by this means he rose higher in their
+estimation.
+
+The unexpected news of the French having crossed the Niemen was
+particularly startling after a month of unfulfilled expectations, and at
+a ball. On first receiving the news, under the influence of indignation
+and resentment the Emperor had found a phrase that pleased him, fully
+expressed his feelings, and has since become famous. On returning home
+at two o'clock that night he sent for his secretary, Shishkov, and told
+him to write an order to the troops and a rescript to Field Marshal
+Prince Saltykov, in which he insisted on the words being inserted that
+he would not make peace so long as a single armed Frenchman remained on
+Russian soil.
+
+Next day the following letter was sent to Napoleon:
+
+Monsieur mon frere,
+
+Yesterday I learned that, despite the loyalty with which I have kept my
+engagements with Your Majesty, your troops have crossed the Russian
+frontier, and I have this moment received from Petersburg a note, in
+which Count Lauriston informs me, as a reason for this aggression, that
+Your Majesty has considered yourself to be in a state of war with me
+from the time Prince Kuragin asked for his passports. The reasons on
+which the Duc de Bassano based his refusal to deliver them to him would
+never have led me to suppose that that could serve as a pretext for
+aggression. In fact, the ambassador, as he himself has declared, was
+never authorized to make that demand, and as soon as I was informed of
+it I let him know how much I disapproved of it and ordered him to remain
+at his post. If Your Majesty does not intend to shed the blood of our
+peoples for such a misunderstanding, and consents to withdraw your
+troops from Russian territory, I will regard what has passed as not
+having occurred and an understanding between us will be possible. In the
+contrary case, Your Majesty, I shall see myself forced to repel an
+attack that nothing on my part has provoked. It still depends on Your
+Majesty to preserve humanity from the calamity of another war. I am,
+etc.,
+
+(signed) Alexander.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+At two in the morning of the fourteenth of June, the Emperor, having
+sent for Balashev and read him his letter to Napoleon, ordered him to
+take it and hand it personally to the French Emperor. When dispatching
+Balashev, the Emperor repeated to him the words that he would not make
+peace so long as a single armed enemy remained on Russian soil and told
+him to transmit those words to Napoleon. Alexander did not insert them
+in his letter to Napoleon, because with his characteristic tact he felt
+it would be injudicious to use them at a moment when a last attempt at
+reconciliation was being made, but he definitely instructed Balashev to
+repeat them personally to Napoleon.
+
+Having set off in the small hours of the fourteenth, accompanied by a
+bugler and two Cossacks, Balashev reached the French outposts at the
+village of Rykonty, on the Russian side of the Niemen, by dawn. There he
+was stopped by French cavalry sentinels.
+
+A French noncommissioned officer of hussars, in crimson uniform and a
+shaggy cap, shouted to the approaching Balashev to halt. Balashev did
+not do so at once, but continued to advance along the road at a walking
+pace.
+
+The noncommissioned officer frowned and, muttering words of abuse,
+advanced his horse's chest against Balashev, put his hand to his saber,
+and shouted rudely at the Russian general, asking: was he deaf that he
+did not do as he was told? Balashev mentioned who he was. The
+noncommissioned officer began talking with his comrades about regimental
+matters without looking at the Russian general.
+
+After living at the seat of the highest authority and power, after
+conversing with the Emperor less than three hours before, and in general
+being accustomed to the respect due to his rank in the service, Balashev
+found it very strange here on Russian soil to encounter this hostile,
+and still more this disrespectful, application of brute force to
+himself.
+
+The sun was only just appearing from behind the clouds, the air was
+fresh and dewy. A herd of cattle was being driven along the road from
+the village, and over the fields the larks rose trilling, one after
+another, like bubbles rising in water.
+
+Balashev looked around him, awaiting the arrival of an officer from the
+village. The Russian Cossacks and bugler and the French hussars looked
+silently at one another from time to time.
+
+A French colonel of hussars, who had evidently just left his bed, came
+riding from the village on a handsome sleek gray horse, accompanied by
+two hussars. The officer, the soldiers, and their horses all looked
+smart and well kept.
+
+It was that first period of a campaign when troops are still in full
+trim, almost like that of peacetime maneuvers, but with a shade of
+martial swagger in their clothes, and a touch of the gaiety and spirit
+of enterprise which always accompany the opening of a campaign.
+
+The French colonel with difficulty repressed a yawn, but was polite and
+evidently understood Balashev's importance. He led him past his soldiers
+and behind the outposts and told him that his wish to be presented to
+the Emperor would most likely be satisfied immediately, as the Emperor's
+quarters were, he believed, not far off.
+
+They rode through the village of Rykonty, past tethered French hussar
+horses, past sentinels and men who saluted their colonel and stared with
+curiosity at a Russian uniform, and came out at the other end of the
+village. The colonel said that the commander of the division was a mile
+and a quarter away and would receive Balashev and conduct him to his
+destination.
+
+The sun had by now risen and shone gaily on the bright verdure.
+
+They had hardly ridden up a hill, past a tavern, before they saw a group
+of horsemen coming toward them. In front of the group, on a black horse
+with trappings that glittered in the sun, rode a tall man with plumes in
+his hat and black hair curling down to his shoulders. He wore a red
+mantle, and stretched his long legs forward in French fashion. This man
+rode toward Balashev at a gallop, his plumes flowing and his gems and
+gold lace glittering in the bright June sunshine.
+
+Balashev was only two horses' length from the equestrian with the
+bracelets, plumes, necklaces, and gold embroidery, who was galloping
+toward him with a theatrically solemn countenance, when Julner, the
+French colonel, whispered respectfully: "The King of Naples!" It was, in
+fact, Murat, now called "King of Naples." Though it was quite
+incomprehensible why he should be King of Naples, he was called so, and
+was himself convinced that he was so, and therefore assumed a more
+solemn and important air than formerly. He was so sure that he really
+was the King of Naples that when, on the eve of his departure from that
+city, while walking through the streets with his wife, some Italians
+called out to him: "Viva il re!" * he turned to his wife with a pensive
+smile and said: "Poor fellows, they don't know that I am leaving them
+tomorrow!"
+
+
+* "Long live the king."
+
+But though he firmly believed himself to be King of Naples and pitied
+the grief felt by the subjects he was abandoning, latterly, after he had
+been ordered to return to military service--and especially since his
+last interview with Napoleon in Danzig, when his august brother-in-law
+had told him: "I made you King that you should reign in my way, but not
+in yours!"--he had cheerfully taken up his familiar business, and--like
+a well-fed but not overfat horse that feels himself in harness and grows
+skittish between the shafts--he dressed up in clothes as variegated and
+expensive as possible, and gaily and contentedly galloped along the
+roads of Poland, without himself knowing why or whither.
+
+On seeing the Russian general he threw back his head, with its long hair
+curling to his shoulders, in a majestically royal manner, and looked
+inquiringly at the French colonel. The colonel respectfully informed His
+Majesty of Balashev's mission, whose name he could not pronounce.
+
+"De Bal-macheve!" said the King (overcoming by his assurance the
+difficulty that had presented itself to the colonel). "Charmed to make
+your acquaintance, General!" he added, with a gesture of kingly
+condescension.
+
+As soon as the King began to speak loud and fast his royal dignity
+instantly forsook him, and without noticing it he passed into his
+natural tone of good-natured familiarity. He laid his hand on the
+withers of Balashev's horse and said:
+
+"Well, General, it all looks like war," as if regretting a circumstance
+of which he was unable to judge.
+
+"Your Majesty," replied Balashev, "my master, the Emperor, does not
+desire war and as Your Majesty sees..." said Balashev, using the words
+Your Majesty at every opportunity, with the affectation unavoidable in
+frequently addressing one to whom the title was still a novelty.
+
+Murat's face beamed with stupid satisfaction as he listened to "Monsieur
+de Bal-macheve." But royaute oblige! * and he felt it incumbent on him,
+as a king and an ally, to confer on state affairs with Alexander's
+envoy. He dismounted, took Balashev's arm, and moving a few steps away
+from his suite, which waited respectfully, began to pace up and down
+with him, trying to speak significantly. He referred to the fact that
+the Emperor Napoleon had resented the demand that he should withdraw his
+troops from Prussia, especially when that demand became generally known
+and the dignity of France was thereby offended.
+
+
+* "Royalty has its obligations."
+
+Balashev replied that there was "nothing offensive in the demand,
+because..." but Murat interrupted him.
+
+"Then you don't consider the Emperor Alexander the aggressor?" he asked
+unexpectedly, with a kindly and foolish smile.
+
+Balashev told him why he considered Napoleon to be the originator of the
+war.
+
+"Oh, my dear general!" Murat again interrupted him, "with all my heart I
+wish the Emperors may arrange the affair between them, and that the war
+begun by no wish of mine may finish as quickly as possible!" said he, in
+the tone of a servant who wants to remain good friends with another
+despite a quarrel between their masters.
+
+And he went on to inquiries about the Grand Duke and the state of his
+health, and to reminiscences of the gay and amusing times he had spent
+with him in Naples. Then suddenly, as if remembering his royal dignity,
+Murat solemnly drew himself up, assumed the pose in which he had stood
+at his coronation, and, waving his right arm, said:
+
+"I won't detain you longer, General. I wish success to your mission,"
+and with his embroidered red mantle, his flowing feathers, and his
+glittering ornaments, he rejoined his suite who were respectfully
+awaiting him.
+
+Balashev rode on, supposing from Murat's words that he would very soon
+be brought before Napoleon himself. But instead of that, at the next
+village the sentinels of Davout's infantry corps detained him as the
+pickets of the vanguard had done, and an adjutant of the corps
+commander, who was fetched, conducted him into the village to Marshal
+Davout.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+Davout was to Napoleon what Arakcheev was to Alexander--though not a
+coward like Arakcheev, he was as precise, as cruel, and as unable to
+express his devotion to his monarch except by cruelty.
+
+In the organism of states such men are necessary, as wolves are
+necessary in the organism of nature, and they always exist, always
+appear and hold their own, however incongruous their presence and their
+proximity to the head of the government may be. This inevitability alone
+can explain how the cruel Arakcheev, who tore out a grenadier's mustache
+with his own hands, whose weak nerves rendered him unable to face
+danger, and who was neither an educated man nor a courtier, was able to
+maintain his powerful position with Alexander, whose own character was
+chivalrous, noble, and gentle.
+
+Balashev found Davout seated on a barrel in the shed of a peasant's hut,
+writing--he was auditing accounts. Better quarters could have been found
+him, but Marshal Davout was one of those men who purposely put
+themselves in most depressing conditions to have a justification for
+being gloomy. For the same reason they are always hard at work and in a
+hurry. "How can I think of the bright side of life when, as you see, I
+am sitting on a barrel and working in a dirty shed?" the expression of
+his face seemed to say. The chief pleasure and necessity of such men,
+when they encounter anyone who shows animation, is to flaunt their own
+dreary, persistent activity. Davout allowed himself that pleasure when
+Balashev was brought in. He became still more absorbed in his task when
+the Russian general entered, and after glancing over his spectacles at
+Balashev's face, which was animated by the beauty of the morning and by
+his talk with Murat, he did not rise or even stir, but scowled still
+more and sneered malevolently.
+
+When he noticed in Balashev's face the disagreeable impression this
+reception produced, Davout raised his head and coldly asked what he
+wanted.
+
+Thinking he could have been received in such a manner only because
+Davout did not know that he was adjutant general to the Emperor
+Alexander and even his envoy to Napoleon, Balashev hastened to inform
+him of his rank and mission. Contrary to his expectation, Davout, after
+hearing him, became still surlier and ruder.
+
+"Where is your dispatch?" he inquired. "Give it to me. I will send it to
+the Emperor."
+
+Balashev replied that he had been ordered to hand it personally to the
+Emperor.
+
+"Your Emperor's orders are obeyed in your army, but here," said Davout,
+"you must do as you're told."
+
+And, as if to make the Russian general still more conscious of his
+dependence on brute force, Davout sent an adjutant to call the officer
+on duty.
+
+Balashev took out the packet containing the Emperor's letter and laid it
+on the table (made of a door with its hinges still hanging on it, laid
+across two barrels). Davout took the packet and read the inscription.
+
+"You are perfectly at liberty to treat me with respect or not,"
+protested Balashev, "but permit me to observe that I have the honor to
+be adjutant general to His Majesty...."
+
+Davout glanced at him silently and plainly derived pleasure from the
+signs of agitation and confusion which appeared on Balashev's face.
+
+"You will be treated as is fitting," said he and, putting the packet in
+his pocket, left the shed.
+
+A minute later the marshal's adjutant, de Castres, came in and conducted
+Balashev to the quarters assigned him.
+
+That day he dined with the marshal, at the same board on the barrels.
+
+Next day Davout rode out early and, after asking Balashev to come to
+him, peremptorily requested him to remain there, to move on with the
+baggage train should orders come for it to move, and to talk to no one
+except Monsieur de Castres.
+
+After four days of solitude, ennui, and consciousness of his impotence
+and insignificance--particularly acute by contrast with the sphere of
+power in which he had so lately moved--and after several marches with
+the marshal's baggage and the French army, which occupied the whole
+district, Balashev was brought to Vilna--now occupied by the French--
+through the very gate by which he had left it four days previously.
+
+Next day the imperial gentleman-in-waiting, the Comte de Turenne, came
+to Balashev and informed him of the Emperor Napoleon's wish to honor him
+with an audience.
+
+Four days before, sentinels of the Preobrazhensk regiment had stood in
+front of the house to which Balashev was conducted, and now two French
+grenadiers stood there in blue uniforms unfastened in front and with
+shaggy caps on their heads, and an escort of hussars and uhlans and a
+brilliant suite of aides-de-camp, pages, and generals, who were waiting
+for Napoleon to come out, were standing at the porch, round his saddle
+horse and his Mameluke, Rustan. Napoleon received Balashev in the very
+house in Vilna from which Alexander had dispatched him on his mission.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+Though Balashev was used to imperial pomp, he was amazed at the luxury
+and magnificence of Napoleon's court.
+
+The Comte de Turenne showed him into a big reception room where many
+generals, gentlemen-in-waiting, and Polish magnates--several of whom
+Balashev had seen at the court of the Emperor of Russia--were waiting.
+Duroc said that Napoleon would receive the Russian general before going
+for his ride.
+
+After some minutes, the gentleman-in-waiting who was on duty came into
+the great reception room and, bowing politely, asked Balashev to follow
+him.
+
+Balashev went into a small reception room, one door of which led into a
+study, the very one from which the Russian Emperor had dispatched him on
+his mission. He stood a minute or two, waiting. He heard hurried
+footsteps beyond the door, both halves of it were opened rapidly; all
+was silent and then from the study the sound was heard of other steps,
+firm and resolute--they were those of Napoleon. He had just finished
+dressing for his ride, and wore a blue uniform, opening in front over a
+white waistcoat so long that it covered his rotund stomach, white
+leather breeches tightly fitting the fat thighs of his short legs, and
+Hessian boots. His short hair had evidently just been brushed, but one
+lock hung down in the middle of his broad forehead. His plump white neck
+stood out sharply above the black collar of his uniform, and he smelled
+of Eau de Cologne. His full face, rather young-looking, with its
+prominent chin, wore a gracious and majestic expression of imperial
+welcome.
+
+He entered briskly, with a jerk at every step and his head slightly
+thrown back. His whole short corpulent figure with broad thick
+shoulders, and chest and stomach involuntarily protruding, had that
+imposing and stately appearance one sees in men of forty who live in
+comfort. It was evident, too, that he was in the best of spirits that
+day.
+
+He nodded in answer to Balashav's low and respectful bow, and coming up
+to him at once began speaking like a man who values every moment of his
+time and does not condescend to prepare what he has to say but is sure
+he will always say the right thing and say it well.
+
+"Good day, General!" said he. "I have received the letter you brought
+from the Emperor Alexander and am very glad to see you." He glanced with
+his large eyes into Balashav's face and immediately looked past him.
+
+It was plain that Balashev's personality did not interest him at all.
+Evidently only what took place within his own mind interested him.
+Nothing outside himself had any significance for him, because everything
+in the world, it seemed to him, depended entirely on his will.
+
+"I do not, and did not, desire war," he continued, "but it has been
+forced on me. Even now" (he emphasized the word) "I am ready to receive
+any explanations you can give me."
+
+And he began clearly and concisely to explain his reasons for
+dissatisfaction with the Russian government. Judging by the calmly
+moderate and amicable tone in which the French Emperor spoke, Balashev
+was firmly persuaded that he wished for peace and intended to enter into
+negotiations.
+
+When Napoleon, having finished speaking, looked inquiringly at the
+Russian envoy, Balashev began a speech he had prepared long before:
+"Sire! The Emperor, my master..." but the sight of the Emperor's eyes
+bent on him confused him. "You are flurried--compose yourself!" Napoleon
+seemed to say, as with a scarcely perceptible smile he looked at
+Balashev's uniform and sword.
+
+Balashev recovered himself and began to speak. He said that the Emperor
+Alexander did not consider Kurakin's demand for his passports a
+sufficient cause for war; that Kurakin had acted on his own initiative
+and without his sovereign's assent, that the Emperor Alexander did not
+desire war, and had no relations with England.
+
+"Not yet!" interposed Napoleon, and, as if fearing to give vent to his
+feelings, he frowned and nodded slightly as a sign that Balashev might
+proceed.
+
+After saying all he had been instructed to say, Balashev added that the
+Emperor Alexander wished for peace, but would not enter into
+negotiations except on condition that... Here Balashev hesitated: he
+remembered the words the Emperor Alexander had not written in his
+letter, but had specially inserted in the rescript to Saltykov and had
+told Balashev to repeat to Napoleon. Balashev remembered these words,
+"So long as a single armed foe remains on Russian soil," but some
+complex feeling restrained him. He could not utter them, though he
+wished to do so. He grew confused and said: "On condition that the
+French army retires beyond the Niemen."
+
+Napoleon noticed Balashev's embarrassment when uttering these last
+words; his face twitched and the calf of his left leg began to quiver
+rhythmically. Without moving from where he stood he began speaking in a
+louder tone and more hurriedly than before. During the speech that
+followed, Balashev, who more than once lowered his eyes, involuntarily
+noticed the quivering of Napoleon's left leg which increased the more
+Napoleon raised his voice.
+
+"I desire peace, no less than the Emperor Alexander," he began. "Have I
+not for eighteen months been doing everything to obtain it? I have
+waited eighteen months for explanations. But in order to begin
+negotiations, what is demanded of me?" he said, frowning and making an
+energetic gesture of inquiry with his small white plump hand.
+
+"The withdrawal of your army beyond the Niemen, sire," replied Balashev.
+
+"The Niemen?" repeated Napoleon. "So now you want me to retire beyond
+the Niemen--only the Niemen?" repeated Napoleon, looking straight at
+Balashev.
+
+The latter bowed his head respectfully.
+
+Instead of the demand of four months earlier to withdraw from Pomerania,
+only a withdrawal beyond the Niemen was now demanded. Napoleon turned
+quickly and began to pace the room.
+
+"You say the demand now is that I am to withdraw beyond the Niemen
+before commencing negotiations, but in just the same way two months ago
+the demand was that I should withdraw beyond the Vistula and the Oder,
+and yet you are willing to negotiate."
+
+He went in silence from one corner of the room to the other and again
+stopped in front of Balashev. Balashev noticed that his left leg was
+quivering faster than before and his face seemed petrified in its stern
+expression. This quivering of his left leg was a thing Napoleon was
+conscious of. "The vibration of my left calf is a great sign with me,"
+he remarked at a later date.
+
+"Such demands as to retreat beyond the Vistula and Oder may be made to a
+Prince of Baden, but not to me!" Napoleon almost screamed, quite to his
+own surprise. "If you gave me Petersburg and Moscow I could not accept
+such conditions. You say I have begun this war! But who first joined his
+army? The Emperor Alexander, not I! And you offer me negotiations when I
+have expended millions, when you are in alliance with England, and when
+your position is a bad one. You offer me negotiations! But what is the
+aim of your alliance with England? What has she given you?" he continued
+hurriedly, evidently no longer trying to show the advantages of peace
+and discuss its possibility, but only to prove his own rectitude and
+power and Alexander's errors and duplicity.
+
+The commencement of his speech had obviously been made with the
+intention of demonstrating the advantages of his position and showing
+that he was nevertheless willing to negotiate. But he had begun talking,
+and the more he talked the less could he control his words.
+
+The whole purport of his remarks now was evidently to exalt himself and
+insult Alexander--just what he had least desired at the commencement of
+the interview.
+
+"I hear you have made peace with Turkey?"
+
+Balashev bowed his head affirmatively.
+
+"Peace has been concluded..." he began.
+
+But Napoleon did not let him speak. He evidently wanted to do all the
+talking himself, and continued to talk with the sort of eloquence and
+unrestrained irritability to which spoiled people are so prone.
+
+"Yes, I know you have made peace with the Turks without obtaining
+Moldavia and Wallachia; I would have given your sovereign those
+provinces as I gave him Finland. Yes," he went on, "I promised and would
+have given the Emperor Alexander Moldavia and Wallachia, and now he
+won't have those splendid provinces. Yet he might have united them to
+his empire and in a single reign would have extended Russia from the
+Gulf of Bothnia to the mouths of the Danube. Catherine the Great could
+not have done more," said Napoleon, growing more and more excited as he
+paced up and down the room, repeating to Balashev almost the very words
+he had used to Alexander himself at Tilsit. "All that, he would have
+owed to my friendship. Oh, what a splendid reign!" he repeated several
+times, then paused, drew from his pocket a gold snuffbox, lifted it to
+his nose, and greedily sniffed at it.
+
+"What a splendid reign the Emperor Alexander's might have been!"
+
+He looked compassionately at Balashev, and as soon as the latter tried
+to make some rejoinder hastily interrupted him.
+
+"What could he wish or look for that he would not have obtained through
+my friendship?" demanded Napoleon, shrugging his shoulders in
+perplexity. "But no, he has preferred to surround himself with my
+enemies, and with whom? With Steins, Armfeldts, Bennigsens, and
+Wintzingerodes! Stein, a traitor expelled from his own country;
+Armfeldt, a rake and an intriguer; Wintzingerode, a fugitive French
+subject; Bennigsen, rather more of a soldier than the others, but all
+the same an incompetent who was unable to do anything in 1807 and who
+should awaken terrible memories in the Emperor Alexander's mind....
+Granted that were they competent they might be made use of," continued
+Napoleon--hardly able to keep pace in words with the rush of thoughts
+that incessantly sprang up, proving how right and strong he was (in his
+perception the two were one and the same)--"but they are not even that!
+They are neither fit for war nor peace! Barclay is said to be the most
+capable of them all, but I cannot say so, judging by his first
+movements. And what are they doing, all these courtiers? Pfuel proposes,
+Armfeldt disputes, Bennigsen considers, and Barclay, called on to act,
+does not know what to decide on, and time passes bringing no result.
+Bagration alone is a military man. He's stupid, but he has experience, a
+quick eye, and resolution.... And what role is your young monarch
+playing in that monstrous crowd? They compromise him and throw on him
+the responsibility for all that happens. A sovereign should not be with
+the army unless he is a general!" said Napoleon, evidently uttering
+these words as a direct challenge to the Emperor. He knew how Alexander
+desired to be a military commander.
+
+"The campaign began only a week ago, and you haven't even been able to
+defend Vilna. You are cut in two and have been driven out of the Polish
+provinces. Your army is grumbling."
+
+"On the contrary, Your Majesty," said Balashev, hardly able to remember
+what had been said to him and following these verbal fireworks with
+difficulty, "the troops are burning with eagerness..."
+
+"I know everything!" Napoleon interrupted him. "I know everything. I
+know the number of your battalions as exactly as I know my own. You have
+not two hundred thousand men, and I have three times that number. I give
+you my word of honor," said Napoleon, forgetting that his word of honor
+could carry no weight--"I give you my word of honor that I have five
+hundred and thirty thousand men this side of the Vistula. The Turks will
+be of no use to you; they are worth nothing and have shown it by making
+peace with you. As for the Swedes--it is their fate to be governed by
+mad kings. Their king was insane and they changed him for another--
+Bernadotte, who promptly went mad--for no Swede would ally himself with
+Russia unless he were mad."
+
+Napoleon grinned maliciously and again raised his snuffbox to his nose.
+
+Balashev knew how to reply to each of Napoleon's remarks, and would have
+done so; he continually made the gesture of a man wishing to say
+something, but Napoleon always interrupted him. To the alleged insanity
+of the Swedes, Balashev wished to reply that when Russia is on her side
+Sweden is practically an island: but Napoleon gave an angry exclamation
+to drown his voice. Napoleon was in that state of irritability in which
+a man has to talk, talk, and talk, merely to convince himself that he is
+in the right. Balashev began to feel uncomfortable: as envoy he feared
+to demean his dignity and felt the necessity of replying; but, as a man,
+he shrank before the transport of groundless wrath that had evidently
+seized Napoleon. He knew that none of the words now uttered by Napoleon
+had any significance, and that Napoleon himself would be ashamed of them
+when he came to his senses. Balashev stood with downcast eyes, looking
+at the movements of Napoleon's stout legs and trying to avoid meeting
+his eyes.
+
+"But what do I care about your allies?" said Napoleon. "I have allies--
+the Poles. There are eighty thousand of them and they fight like lions.
+And there will be two hundred thousand of them."
+
+And probably still more perturbed by the fact that he had uttered this
+obvious falsehood, and that Balashev still stood silently before him in
+the same attitude of submission to fate, Napoleon abruptly turned round,
+drew close to Balashev's face, and, gesticulating rapidly and
+energetically with his white hands, almost shouted:
+
+"Know that if you stir up Prussia against me, I'll wipe it off the map
+of Europe!" he declared, his face pale and distorted by anger, and he
+struck one of his small hands energetically with the other. "Yes, I will
+throw you back beyond the Dvina and beyond the Dnieper, and will re-
+erect against you that barrier which it was criminal and blind of Europe
+to allow to be destroyed. Yes, that is what will happen to you. That is
+what you have gained by alienating me!" And he walked silently several
+times up and down the room, his fat shoulders twitching.
+
+He put his snuffbox into his waistcoat pocket, took it out again, lifted
+it several times to his nose, and stopped in front of Balashev. He
+paused, looked ironically straight into Balashev's eyes, and said in a
+quiet voice:
+
+"And yet what a splendid reign your master might have had!"
+
+Balashev, feeling it incumbent on him to reply, said that from the
+Russian side things did not appear in so gloomy a light. Napoleon was
+silent, still looking derisively at him and evidently not listening to
+him. Balashev said that in Russia the best results were expected from
+the war. Napoleon nodded condescendingly, as if to say, "I know it's
+your duty to say that, but you don't believe it yourself. I have
+convinced you."
+
+When Balashev had ended, Napoleon again took out his snuffbox, sniffed
+at it, and stamped his foot twice on the floor as a signal. The door
+opened, a gentleman-in-waiting, bending respectfully, handed the Emperor
+his hat and gloves; another brought him a pocket handkerchief. Napoleon,
+without giving them a glance, turned to Balashev:
+
+"Assure the Emperor Alexander from me," said he, taking his hat, "that I
+am as devoted to him as before: I know him thoroughly and very highly
+esteem his lofty qualities. I will detain you no longer, General; you
+shall receive my letter to the Emperor."
+
+And Napoleon went quickly to the door. Everyone in the reception room
+rushed forward and descended the staircase.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+After all that Napoleon had said to him--those bursts of anger and the
+last dryly spoken words: "I will detain you no longer, General; you
+shall receive my letter," Balashev felt convinced that Napoleon would
+not wish to see him, and would even avoid another meeting with him--an
+insulted envoy--especially as he had witnessed his unseemly anger. But,
+to his surprise, Balashev received, through Duroc, an invitation to dine
+with the Emperor that day.
+
+Bessieres, Caulaincourt, and Berthier were present at that dinner.
+
+Napoleon met Balashev cheerfully and amiably. He not only showed no sign
+of constraint or self-reproach on account of his outburst that morning,
+but, on the contrary, tried to reassure Balashev. It was evident that he
+had long been convinced that it was impossible for him to make a
+mistake, and that in his perception whatever he did was right, not
+because it harmonized with any idea of right and wrong, but because he
+did it.
+
+The Emperor was in very good spirits after his ride through Vilna, where
+crowds of people had rapturously greeted and followed him. From all the
+windows of the streets through which he rode, rugs, flags, and his
+monogram were displayed, and the Polish ladies, welcoming him, waved
+their handkerchiefs to him.
+
+At dinner, having placed Balashev beside him, Napoleon not only treated
+him amiably but behaved as if Balashev were one of his own courtiers,
+one of those who sympathized with his plans and ought to rejoice at his
+success. In the course of conversation he mentioned Moscow and
+questioned Balashev about the Russian capital, not merely as an
+interested traveler asks about a new city he intends to visit, but as if
+convinced that Balashev, as a Russian, must be flattered by his
+curiosity.
+
+"How many inhabitants are there in Moscow? How many houses? Is it true
+that Moscow is called 'Holy Moscow'? How many churches are there in
+Moscow?" he asked.
+
+And receiving the reply that there were more than two hundred churches,
+he remarked:
+
+"Why such a quantity of churches?"
+
+"The Russians are very devout," replied Balashev.
+
+"But a large number of monasteries and churches is always a sign of the
+backwardness of a people," said Napoleon, turning to Caulaincourt for
+appreciation of this remark.
+
+Balashev respectfully ventured to disagree with the French Emperor.
+
+"Every country has its own character," said he.
+
+"But nowhere in Europe is there anything like that," said Napoleon.
+
+"I beg your Majesty's pardon," returned Balashev, "besides Russia there
+is Spain, where there are also many churches and monasteries."
+
+This reply of Balashev's, which hinted at the recent defeats of the
+French in Spain, was much appreciated when he related it at Alexander's
+court, but it was not much appreciated at Napoleon's dinner, where it
+passed unnoticed.
+
+The uninterested and perplexed faces of the marshals showed that they
+were puzzled as to what Balashev's tone suggested. "If there is a point
+we don't see it, or it is not at all witty," their expressions seemed to
+say. So little was his rejoinder appreciated that Napoleon did not
+notice it at all and naively asked Balashev through what towns the
+direct road from there to Moscow passed. Balashev, who was on the alert
+all through the dinner, replied that just as "all roads lead to Rome,"
+so all roads lead to Moscow: there were many roads, and "among them the
+road through Poltava, which Charles XII chose." Balashev involuntarily
+flushed with pleasure at the aptitude of this reply, but hardly had he
+uttered the word Poltava before Caulaincourt began speaking of the
+badness of the road from Petersburg to Moscow and of his Petersburg
+reminiscences.
+
+After dinner they went to drink coffee in Napoleon's study, which four
+days previously had been that of the Emperor Alexander. Napoleon sat
+down, toying with his Sevres coffee cup, and motioned Balashev to a
+chair beside him.
+
+Napoleon was in that well-known after-dinner mood which, more than any
+reasoned cause, makes a man contented with himself and disposed to
+consider everyone his friend. It seemed to him that he was surrounded by
+men who adored him: and he felt convinced that, after his dinner,
+Balashev too was his friend and worshiper. Napoleon turned to him with a
+pleasant, though slightly ironic, smile.
+
+"They tell me this is the room the Emperor Alexander occupied? Strange,
+isn't it, General?" he said, evidently not doubting that this remark
+would be agreeable to his hearer since it went to prove his, Napoleon's,
+superiority to Alexander.
+
+Balashev made no reply and bowed his head in silence.
+
+"Yes. Four days ago in this room, Wintzingerode and Stein were
+deliberating," continued Napoleon with the same derisive and self-
+confident smile. "What I can't understand," he went on, "is that the
+Emperor Alexander has surrounded himself with my personal enemies. That
+I do not... understand. Has he not thought that I may do the same?" and
+he turned inquiringly to Balashev, and evidently this thought turned him
+back on to the track of his morning's anger, which was still fresh in
+him.
+
+"And let him know that I will do so!" said Napoleon, rising and pushing
+his cup away with his hand. "I'll drive all his Wurttemberg, Baden, and
+Weimar relations out of Germany.... Yes. I'll drive them out. Let him
+prepare an asylum for them in Russia!"
+
+Balashev bowed his head with an air indicating that he would like to
+make his bow and leave, and only listened because he could not help
+hearing what was said to him. Napoleon did not notice this expression;
+he treated Balashev not as an envoy from his enemy, but as a man now
+fully devoted to him and who must rejoice at his former master's
+humiliation.
+
+"And why has the Emperor Alexander taken command of the armies? What is
+the good of that? War is my profession, but his business is to reign and
+not to command armies! Why has he taken on himself such a
+responsibility?"
+
+Again Napoleon brought out his snuffbox, paced several times up and down
+the room in silence, and then, suddenly and unexpectedly, went up to
+Balashev and with a slight smile, as confidently, quickly, and simply as
+if he were doing something not merely important but pleasing to
+Balashev, he raised his hand to the forty-year-old Russian general's
+face and, taking him by the ear, pulled it gently, smiling with his lips
+only.
+
+To have one's ear pulled by the Emperor was considered the greatest
+honor and mark of favor at the French court.
+
+"Well, adorer and courtier of the Emperor Alexander, why don't you say
+anything?" said he, as if it was ridiculous, in his presence, to be the
+adorer and courtier of anyone but himself, Napoleon. "Are the horses
+ready for the general?" he added, with a slight inclination of his head
+in reply to Balashev's bow. "Let him have mine, he has a long way to
+go!"
+
+The letter taken by Balashev was the last Napoleon sent to Alexander.
+Every detail of the interview was communicated to the Russian monarch,
+and the war began...
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+After his interview with Pierre in Moscow, Prince Andrew went to
+Petersburg, on business as he told his family, but really to meet
+Anatole Kuragin whom he felt it necessary to encounter. On reaching
+Petersburg he inquired for Kuragin but the latter had already left the
+city. Pierre had warned his brother-in-law that Prince Andrew was on his
+track. Anatole Kuragin promptly obtained an appointment from the
+Minister of War and went to join the army in Moldavia. While in
+Petersburg Prince Andrew met Kutuzov, his former commander who was
+always well disposed toward him, and Kutuzov suggested that he should
+accompany him to the army in Moldavia, to which the old general had been
+appointed commander-in-chief. So Prince Andrew, having received an
+appointment on the headquarters staff, left for Turkey.
+
+Prince Andrew did not think it proper to write and challenge Kuragin. He
+thought that if he challenged him without some fresh cause it might
+compromise the young Countess Rostova and so he wanted to meet Kuragin
+personally in order to find a fresh pretext for a duel. But he again
+failed to meet Kuragin in Turkey, for soon after Prince Andrew arrived,
+the latter returned to Russia. In a new country, amid new conditions,
+Prince Andrew found life easier to bear. After his betrothed had broken
+faith with him--which he felt the more acutely the more he tried to
+conceal its effects--the surroundings in which he had been happy became
+trying to him, and the freedom and independence he had once prized so
+highly were still more so. Not only could he no longer think the
+thoughts that had first come to him as he lay gazing at the sky on the
+field of Austerlitz and had later enlarged upon with Pierre, and which
+had filled his solitude at Bogucharovo and then in Switzerland and Rome,
+but he even dreaded to recall them and the bright and boundless horizons
+they had revealed. He was now concerned only with the nearest practical
+matters unrelated to his past interests, and he seized on these the more
+eagerly the more those past interests were closed to him. It was as if
+that lofty, infinite canopy of heaven that had once towered above him
+had suddenly turned into a low, solid vault that weighed him down, in
+which all was clear, but nothing eternal or mysterious.
+
+Of the activities that presented themselves to him, army service was the
+simplest and most familiar. As a general on duty on Kutuzov's staff, he
+applied himself to business with zeal and perseverance and surprised
+Kutuzov by his willingness and accuracy in work. Not having found
+Kuragin in Turkey, Prince Andrew did not think it necessary to rush back
+to Russia after him, but all the same he knew that however long it might
+be before he met Kuragin, despite his contempt for him and despite all
+the proofs he deduced to convince himself that it was not worth stooping
+to a conflict with him--he knew that when he did meet him he would not
+be able to resist calling him out, any more than a ravenous man can help
+snatching at food. And the consciousness that the insult was not yet
+avenged, that his rancor was still unspent, weighed on his heart and
+poisoned the artificial tranquillity which he managed to obtain in
+Turkey by means of restless, plodding, and rather vainglorious and
+ambitious activity.
+
+In the year 1812, when news of the war with Napoleon reached Bucharest--
+where Kutuzov had been living for two months, passing his days and
+nights with a Wallachian woman--Prince Andrew asked Kutuzov to transfer
+him to the Western Army. Kutuzov, who was already weary of Bolkonski's
+activity which seemed to reproach his own idleness, very readily let him
+go and gave him a mission to Barclay de Tolly.
+
+Before joining the Western Army which was then, in May, encamped at
+Drissa, Prince Andrew visited Bald Hills which was directly on his way,
+being only two miles off the Smolensk highroad. During the last three
+years there had been so many changes in his life, he had thought, felt,
+and seen so much (having traveled both in the east and the west), that
+on reaching Bald Hills it struck him as strange and unexpected to find
+the way of life there unchanged and still the same in every detail. He
+entered through the gates with their stone pillars and drove up the
+avenue leading to the house as if he were entering an enchanted,
+sleeping castle. The same old stateliness, the same cleanliness, the
+same stillness reigned there, and inside there was the same furniture,
+the same walls, sounds, and smell, and the same timid faces, only
+somewhat older. Princess Mary was still the same timid, plain maiden
+getting on in years, uselessly and joylessly passing the best years of
+her life in fear and constant suffering. Mademoiselle Bourienne was the
+same coquettish, self-satisfied girl, enjoying every moment of her
+existence and full of joyous hopes for the future. She had merely become
+more self-confident, Prince Andrew thought. Dessalles, the tutor he had
+brought from Switzerland, was wearing a coat of Russian cut and talking
+broken Russian to the servants, but was still the same narrowly
+intelligent, conscientious, and pedantic preceptor. The old prince had
+changed in appearance only by the loss of a tooth, which left a
+noticeable gap on one side of his mouth; in character he was the same as
+ever, only showing still more irritability and skepticism as to what was
+happening in the world. Little Nicholas alone had changed. He had grown,
+become rosier, had curly dark hair, and, when merry and laughing, quite
+unconsciously lifted the upper lip of his pretty little mouth just as
+the little princess used to do. He alone did not obey the law of
+immutability in the enchanted, sleeping castle. But though externally
+all remained as of old, the inner relations of all these people had
+changed since Prince Andrew had seen them last. The household was
+divided into two alien and hostile camps, who changed their habits for
+his sake and only met because he was there. To the one camp belonged the
+old prince, Mademoiselle Bourienne, and the architect; to the other
+Princess Mary, Dessalles, little Nicholas, and all the old nurses and
+maids.
+
+During his stay at Bald Hills all the family dined together, but they
+were ill at ease and Prince Andrew felt that he was a visitor for whose
+sake an exception was being made and that his presence made them all
+feel awkward. Involuntarily feeling this at dinner on the first day, he
+was taciturn, and the old prince noticing this also became morosely dumb
+and retired to his apartments directly after dinner. In the evening,
+when Prince Andrew went to him and, trying to rouse him, began to tell
+him of the young Count Kamensky's campaign, the old prince began
+unexpectedly to talk about Princess Mary, blaming her for her
+superstitions and her dislike of Mademoiselle Bourienne, who, he said,
+was the only person really attached to him.
+
+The old prince said that if he was ill it was only because of Princess
+Mary: that she purposely worried and irritated him, and that by
+indulgence and silly talk she was spoiling little Prince Nicholas. The
+old prince knew very well that he tormented his daughter and that her
+life was very hard, but he also knew that he could not help tormenting
+her and that she deserved it. "Why does Prince Andrew, who sees this,
+say nothing to me about his sister? Does he think me a scoundrel, or an
+old fool who, without any reason, keeps his own daughter at a distance
+and attaches this Frenchwoman to himself? He doesn't understand, so I
+must explain it, and he must hear me out," thought the old prince. And
+he began explaining why he could not put up with his daughter's
+unreasonable character.
+
+"If you ask me," said Prince Andrew, without looking up (he was
+censuring his father for the first time in his life), "I did not wish to
+speak about it, but as you ask me I will give you my frank opinion. If
+there is any misunderstanding and discord between you and Mary, I can't
+blame her for it at all. I know how she loves and respects you. Since
+you ask me," continued Prince Andrew, becoming irritable--as he was
+always liable to do of late--"I can only say that if there are any
+misunderstandings they are caused by that worthless woman, who is not
+fit to be my sister's companion."
+
+The old man at first stared fixedly at his son, and an unnatural smile
+disclosed the fresh gap between his teeth to which Prince Andrew could
+not get accustomed.
+
+"What companion, my dear boy? Eh? You've already been talking it over!
+Eh?"
+
+"Father, I did not want to judge," said Prince Andrew, in a hard and
+bitter tone, "but you challenged me, and I have said, and always shall
+say, that Mary is not to blame, but those to blame--the one to blame--is
+that Frenchwoman."
+
+"Ah, he has passed judgment... passed judgement!" said the old man in a
+low voice and, as it seemed to Prince Andrew, with some embarrassment,
+but then he suddenly jumped up and cried: "Be off, be off! Let not a
+trace of you remain here!..."
+
+Prince Andrew wished to leave at once, but Princess Mary persuaded him
+to stay another day. That day he did not see his father, who did not
+leave his room and admitted no one but Mademoiselle Bourienne and
+Tikhon, but asked several times whether his son had gone. Next day,
+before leaving, Prince Andrew went to his son's rooms. The boy, curly-
+headed like his mother and glowing with health, sat on his knee, and
+Prince Andrew began telling him the story of Bluebeard, but fell into a
+reverie without finishing the story. He thought not of this pretty
+child, his son whom he held on his knee, but of himself. He sought in
+himself either remorse for having angered his father or regret at
+leaving home for the first time in his life on bad terms with him, and
+was horrified to find neither. What meant still more to him was that he
+sought and did not find in himself the former tenderness for his son
+which he had hoped to reawaken by caressing the boy and taking him on
+his knee.
+
+"Well, go on!" said his son.
+
+Prince Andrew, without replying, put him down from his knee and went out
+of the room.
+
+As soon as Prince Andrew had given up his daily occupations, and
+especially on returning to the old conditions of life amid which he had
+been happy, weariness of life overcame him with its former intensity,
+and he hastened to escape from these memories and to find some work as
+soon as possible.
+
+"So you've decided to go, Andrew?" asked his sister.
+
+"Thank God that I can," replied Prince Andrew. "I am very sorry you
+can't."
+
+"Why do you say that?" replied Princess Mary. "Why do you say that, when
+you are going to this terrible war, and he is so old? Mademoiselle
+Bourienne says he has been asking about you...."
+
+As soon as she began to speak of that, her lips trembled and her tears
+began to fall. Prince Andrew turned away and began pacing the room.
+
+"Ah, my God! my God! When one thinks who and what--what trash--can cause
+people misery!" he said with a malignity that alarmed Princess Mary.
+
+She understood that when speaking of "trash" he referred not only to
+Mademoiselle Bourienne, the cause of her misery, but also to the man who
+had ruined his own happiness.
+
+"Andrew! One thing I beg, I entreat of you!" she said, touching his
+elbow and looking at him with eyes that shone through her tears. "I
+understand you" (she looked down). "Don't imagine that sorrow is the
+work of men. Men are His tools." She looked a little above Prince
+Andrew's head with the confident, accustomed look with which one looks
+at the place where a familiar portrait hangs. "Sorrow is sent by Him,
+not by men. Men are His instruments, they are not to blame. If you think
+someone has wronged you, forget it and forgive! We have no right to
+punish. And then you will know the happiness of forgiving."
+
+"If I were a woman I would do so, Mary. That is a woman's virtue. But a
+man should not and cannot forgive and forget," he replied, and though
+till that moment he had not been thinking of Kuragin, all his unexpended
+anger suddenly swelled up in his heart.
+
+"If Mary is already persuading me to forgive, it means that I ought long
+ago to have punished him," he thought. And giving her no further reply,
+he began thinking of the glad vindictive moment when he would meet
+Kuragin who he knew was now in the army.
+
+Princess Mary begged him to stay one day more, saying that she knew how
+unhappy her father would be if Andrew left without being reconciled to
+him, but Prince Andrew replied that he would probably soon be back again
+from the army and would certainly write to his father, but that the
+longer he stayed now the more embittered their differences would become.
+
+"Good-bye, Andrew! Remember that misfortunes come from God, and men are
+never to blame," were the last words he heard from his sister when he
+took leave of her.
+
+"Then it must be so!" thought Prince Andrew as he drove out of the
+avenue from the house at Bald Hills. "She, poor innocent creature, is
+left to be victimized by an old man who has outlived his wits. The old
+man feels he is guilty, but cannot change himself. My boy is growing up
+and rejoices in life, in which like everybody else he will deceive or be
+deceived. And I am off to the army. Why? I myself don't know. I want to
+meet that man whom I despise, so as to give him a chance to kill and
+laugh at me!"
+
+These conditions of life had been the same before, but then they were
+all connected, while now they had all tumbled to pieces. Only senseless
+things, lacking coherence, presented themselves one after another to
+Prince Andrew's mind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+Prince Andrew reached the general headquarters of the army at the end of
+June. The first army, with which was the Emperor, occupied the fortified
+camp at Drissa; the second army was retreating, trying to effect a
+junction with the first one from which it was said to be cut off by
+large French forces. Everyone was dissatisfied with the general course
+of affairs in the Russian army, but no one anticipated any danger of
+invasion of the Russian provinces, and no one thought the war would
+extend farther than the western, the Polish, provinces.
+
+Prince Andrew found Barclay de Tolly, to whom he had been assigned, on
+the bank of the Drissa. As there was not a single town or large village
+in the vicinity of the camp, the immense number of generals and
+courtiers accompanying the army were living in the best houses of the
+villages on both sides of the river, over a radius of six miles. Barclay
+de Tolly was quartered nearly three miles from the Emperor. He received
+Bolkonski stiffly and coldly and told him in his foreign accent that he
+would mention him to the Emperor for a decision as to his employment,
+but asked him meanwhile to remain on his staff. Anatole Kuragin, whom
+Prince Andrew had hoped to find with the army, was not there. He had
+gone to Petersburg, but Prince Andrew was glad to hear this. His mind
+was occupied by the interests of the center that was conducting a
+gigantic war, and he was glad to be free for a while from the
+distraction caused by the thought of Kuragin. During the first four
+days, while no duties were required of him, Prince Andrew rode round the
+whole fortified camp and, by the aid of his own knowledge and by talks
+with experts, tried to form a definite opinion about it. But the
+question whether the camp was advantageous or disadvantageous remained
+for him undecided. Already from his military experience and what he had
+seen in the Austrian campaign, he had come to the conclusion that in war
+the most deeply considered plans have no significance and that all
+depends on the way unexpected movements of the enemy--that cannot be
+foreseen--are met, and on how and by whom the whole matter is handled.
+To clear up this last point for himself, Prince Andrew, utilizing his
+position and acquaintances, tried to fathom the character of the control
+of the army and of the men and parties engaged in it, and he deduced for
+himself the following of the state of affairs.
+
+While the Emperor had still been at Vilna, the forces had been divided
+into three armies. First, the army under Barclay de Tolly, secondly, the
+army under Bagration, and thirdly, the one commanded by Tormasov. The
+Emperor was with the first army, but not as commander-in-chief. In the
+orders issued it was stated, not that the Emperor would take command,
+but only that he would be with the army. The Emperor, moreover, had with
+him not a commander-in-chief's staff but the imperial headquarters
+staff. In attendance on him was the head of the imperial staff,
+Quartermaster General Prince Volkonski, as well as generals, imperial
+aides-de-camp, diplomatic officials, and a large number of foreigners,
+but not the army staff. Besides these, there were in attendance on the
+Emperor without any definite appointments: Arakcheev, the ex-Minister of
+War; Count Bennigsen, the senior general in rank; the Grand Duke
+Tsarevich Constantine Pavlovich; Count Rumyantsev, the Chancellor;
+Stein, a former Prussian minister; Armfeldt, a Swedish general; Pfuel,
+the chief author of the plan of campaign; Paulucci, an adjutant general
+and Sardinian emigre; Wolzogen--and many others. Though these men had no
+military appointment in the army, their position gave them influence,
+and often a corps commander, or even the commander-in-chief, did not
+know in what capacity he was questioned by Bennigsen, the Grand Duke,
+Arakcheev, or Prince Volkonski, or was given this or that advice and did
+not know whether a certain order received in the form of advice emanated
+from the man who gave it or from the Emperor and whether it had to be
+executed or not. But this was only the external condition; the essential
+significance of the presence of the Emperor and of all these people,
+from a courtier's point of view (and in an Emperor's vicinity all became
+courtiers), was clear to everyone. It was this: the Emperor did not
+assume the title of commander-in-chief, but disposed of all the armies;
+the men around him were his assistants. Arakcheev was a faithful
+custodian to enforce order and acted as the sovereign's bodyguard.
+Bennigsen was a landlord in the Vilna province who appeared to be doing
+the honors of the district, but was in reality a good general, useful as
+an adviser and ready at hand to replace Barclay. The Grand Duke was
+there because it suited him to be. The ex-Minister Stein was there
+because his advice was useful and the Emperor Alexander held him in high
+esteem personally. Armfeldt virulently hated Napoleon and was a general
+full of self-confidence, a quality that always influenced Alexander.
+Paulucci was there because he was bold and decided in speech. The
+adjutants general were there because they always accompanied the
+Emperor, and lastly and chiefly Pfuel was there because he had drawn up
+the plan of campaign against Napoleon and, having induced Alexander to
+believe in the efficacy of that plan, was directing the whole business
+of the war. With Pfuel was Wolzogen, who expressed Pfuel's thoughts in a
+more comprehensible way than Pfuel himself (who was a harsh, bookish
+theorist, self-confident to the point of despising everyone else) was
+able to do.
+
+Besides these Russians and foreigners who propounded new and unexpected
+ideas every day--especially the foreigners, who did so with a boldness
+characteristic of people employed in a country not their own--there were
+many secondary personages accompanying the army because their principals
+were there.
+
+Among the opinions and voices in this immense, restless, brilliant, and
+proud sphere, Prince Andrew noticed the following sharply defined
+subdivisions of tendencies and parties:
+
+The first party consisted of Pfuel and his adherents--military theorists
+who believed in a science of war with immutable laws--laws of oblique
+movements, outflankings, and so forth. Pfuel and his adherents demanded
+a retirement into the depths of the country in accordance with precise
+laws defined by a pseudo-theory of war, and they saw only barbarism,
+ignorance, or evil intention in every deviation from that theory. To
+this party belonged the foreign nobles, Wolzogen, Wintzingerode, and
+others, chiefly Germans.
+
+The second party was directly opposed to the first; one extreme, as
+always happens, was met by representatives of the other. The members of
+this party were those who had demanded an advance from Vilna into Poland
+and freedom from all prearranged plans. Besides being advocates of bold
+action, this section also represented nationalism, which made them still
+more one-sided in the dispute. They were Russians: Bagration, Ermolov
+(who was beginning to come to the front), and others. At that time a
+famous joke of Ermolov's was being circulated, that as a great favor he
+had petitioned the Emperor to make him a German. The men of that party,
+remembering Suvorov, said that what one had to do was not to reason, or
+stick pins into maps, but to fight, beat the enemy, keep him out of
+Russia, and not let the army get discouraged.
+
+To the third party--in which the Emperor had most confidence--belonged
+the courtiers who tried to arrange compromises between the other two.
+The members of this party, chiefly civilians and to whom Arakcheev
+belonged, thought and said what men who have no convictions but wish to
+seem to have some generally say. They said that undoubtedly war,
+particularly against such a genius as Bonaparte (they called him
+Bonaparte now), needs most deeply devised plans and profound scientific
+knowledge and in that respect Pfuel was a genius, but at the same time
+it had to be acknowledged that the theorists are often one-sided, and
+therefore one should not trust them absolutely, but should also listen
+to what Pfuel's opponents and practical men of experience in warfare had
+to say, and then choose a middle course. They insisted on the retention
+of the camp at Drissa, according to Pfuel's plan, but on changing the
+movements of the other armies. Though, by this course, neither one aim
+nor the other could be attained, yet it seemed best to the adherents of
+this third party.
+
+Of a fourth opinion the most conspicuous representative was the
+Tsarevich, who could not forget his disillusionment at Austerlitz, where
+he had ridden out at the head of the Guards, in his casque and cavalry
+uniform as to a review, expecting to crush the French gallantly; but
+unexpectedly finding himself in the front line had narrowly escaped amid
+the general confusion. The men of this party had both the quality and
+the defect of frankness in their opinions. They feared Napoleon,
+recognized his strength and their own weakness, and frankly said so.
+They said: "Nothing but sorrow, shame, and ruin will come of all this!
+We have abandoned Vilna and Vitebsk and shall abandon Drissa. The only
+reasonable thing left to do is to conclude peace as soon as possible,
+before we are turned out of Petersburg."
+
+This view was very general in the upper army circles and found support
+also in Petersburg and from the chancellor, Rumyantsev, who, for other
+reasons of state, was in favor of peace.
+
+The fifth party consisted of those who were adherents of Barclay de
+Tolly, not so much as a man but as minister of war and commander-in-
+chief. "Be he what he may" (they always began like that), "he is an
+honest, practical man and we have nobody better. Give him real power,
+for war cannot be conducted successfully without unity of command, and
+he will show what he can do, as he did in Finland. If our army is well
+organized and strong and has withdrawn to Drissa without suffering any
+defeats, we owe this entirely to Barclay. If Barclay is now to be
+superseded by Bennigsen all will be lost, for Bennigsen showed his
+incapacity already in 1807."
+
+The sixth party, the Bennigsenites, said, on the contrary, that at any
+rate there was no one more active and experienced than Bennigsen: "and
+twist about as you may, you will have to come to Bennigsen eventually.
+Let the others make mistakes now!" said they, arguing that our
+retirement to Drissa was a most shameful reverse and an unbroken series
+of blunders. "The more mistakes that are made the better. It will at any
+rate be understood all the sooner that things cannot go on like this.
+What is wanted is not some Barclay or other, but a man like Bennigsen,
+who made his mark in 1807, and to whom Napoleon himself did justice--a
+man whose authority would be willingly recognized, and Bennigsen is the
+only such man."
+
+The seventh party consisted of the sort of people who are always to be
+found, especially around young sovereigns, and of whom there were
+particularly many round Alexander--generals and imperial aides-de-camp
+passionately devoted to the Emperor, not merely as a monarch but as a
+man, adoring him sincerely and disinterestedly, as Rostov had done in
+1805, and who saw in him not only all the virtues but all human
+capabilities as well. These men, though enchanted with the sovereign for
+refusing the command of the army, yet blamed him for such excessive
+modesty, and only desired and insisted that their adored sovereign
+should abandon his diffidence and openly announce that he would place
+himself at the head of the army, gather round him a commander-in-chief's
+staff, and, consulting experienced theoreticians and practical men where
+necessary, would himself lead the troops, whose spirits would thereby be
+raised to the highest pitch.
+
+The eighth and largest group, which in its enormous numbers was to the
+others as ninety-nine to one, consisted of men who desired neither peace
+nor war, neither an advance nor a defensive camp at the Drissa or
+anywhere else, neither Barclay nor the Emperor, neither Pfuel nor
+Bennigsen, but only the one most essential thing--as much advantage and
+pleasure for themselves as possible. In the troubled waters of
+conflicting and intersecting intrigues that eddied about the Emperor's
+headquarters, it was possible to succeed in many ways unthinkable at
+other times. A man who simply wished to retain his lucrative post would
+today agree with Pfuel, tomorrow with his opponent, and the day after,
+merely to avoid responsibility or to please the Emperor, would declare
+that he had no opinion at all on the matter. Another who wished to gain
+some advantage would attract the Emperor's attention by loudly
+advocating the very thing the Emperor had hinted at the day before, and
+would dispute and shout at the council, beating his breast and
+challenging those who did not agree with him to duels, thereby proving
+that he was prepared to sacrifice himself for the common good. A third,
+in the absence of opponents, between two councils would simply solicit a
+special gratuity for his faithful services, well knowing that at that
+moment people would be too busy to refuse him. A fourth while seemingly
+overwhelmed with work would often come accidentally under the Emperor's
+eye. A fifth, to achieve his long-cherished aim of dining with the
+Emperor, would stubbornly insist on the correctness or falsity of some
+newly emerging opinion and for this object would produce arguments more
+or less forcible and correct.
+
+All the men of this party were fishing for rubles, decorations, and
+promotions, and in this pursuit watched only the weathercock of imperial
+favor, and directly they noticed it turning in any direction, this whole
+drone population of the army began blowing hard that way, so that it was
+all the harder for the Emperor to turn it elsewhere. Amid the
+uncertainties of the position, with the menace of serious danger giving
+a peculiarly threatening character to everything, amid this vortex of
+intrigue, egotism, conflict of views and feelings, and the diversity of
+race among these people--this eighth and largest party of those
+preoccupied with personal interests imparted great confusion and
+obscurity to the common task. Whatever question arose, a swarm of these
+drones, without having finished their buzzing on a previous theme, flew
+over to the new one and by their hum drowned and obscured the voices of
+those who were disputing honestly.
+
+From among all these parties, just at the time Prince Andrew reached the
+army, another, a ninth party, was being formed and was beginning to
+raise its voice. This was the party of the elders, reasonable men
+experienced and capable in state affairs, who, without sharing any of
+those conflicting opinions, were able to take a detached view of what
+was going on at the staff at headquarters and to consider means of
+escape from this muddle, indecision, intricacy, and weakness.
+
+The men of this party said and thought that what was wrong resulted
+chiefly from the Emperor's presence in the army with his military court
+and from the consequent presence there of an indefinite, conditional,
+and unsteady fluctuation of relations, which is in place at court but
+harmful in an army; that a sovereign should reign but not command the
+army, and that the only way out of the position would be for the Emperor
+and his court to leave the army; that the mere presence of the Emperor
+paralyzed the action of fifty thousand men required to secure his
+personal safety, and that the worst commander-in-chief, if independent,
+would be better than the very best one trammeled by the presence and
+authority of the monarch.
+
+Just at the time Prince Andrew was living unoccupied at Drissa,
+Shishkov, the Secretary of State and one of the chief representatives of
+this party, wrote a letter to the Emperor which Arakcheev and Balashev
+agreed to sign. In this letter, availing himself of permission given him
+by the Emperor to discuss the general course of affairs, he respectfully
+suggested--on the plea that it was necessary for the sovereign to arouse
+a warlike spirit in the people of the capital--that the Emperor should
+leave the army.
+
+That arousing of the people by their sovereign and his call to them to
+defend their country--the very incitement which was the chief cause of
+Russia's triumph in so far as it was produced by the Tsar's personal
+presence in Moscow--was suggested to the Emperor, and accepted by him,
+as a pretext for quitting the army.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+This letter had not yet been presented to the Emperor when Barclay, one
+day at dinner, informed Bolkonski that the sovereign wished to see him
+personally, to question him about Turkey, and that Prince Andrew was to
+present himself at Bennigsen's quarters at six that evening.
+
+News was received at the Emperor's quarters that very day of a fresh
+movement by Napoleon which might endanger the army--news subsequently
+found to be false. And that morning Colonel Michaud had ridden round the
+Drissa fortifications with the Emperor and had pointed out to him that
+this fortified camp constructed by Pfuel, and till then considered a
+chef-d'oeuvre of tactical science which would ensure Napoleon's
+destruction, was an absurdity, threatening the destruction of the
+Russian army.
+
+Prince Andrew arrived at Bennigsen's quarters--a country gentleman's
+house of moderate size, situated on the very banks of the river. Neither
+Bennigsen nor the Emperor was there, but Chernyshev, the Emperor's aide-
+de-camp, received Bolkonski and informed him that the Emperor,
+accompanied by General Bennigsen and Marquis Paulucci, had gone a second
+time that day to inspect the fortifications of the Drissa camp, of the
+suitability of which serious doubts were beginning to be felt.
+
+Chernyshev was sitting at a window in the first room with a French novel
+in his hand. This room had probably been a music room; there was still
+an organ in it on which some rugs were piled, and in one corner stood
+the folding bedstead of Bennigsen's adjutant. This adjutant was also
+there and sat dozing on the rolled-up bedding, evidently exhausted by
+work or by feasting. Two doors led from the room, one straight on into
+what had been the drawing room, and another, on the right, to the study.
+Through the first door came the sound of voices conversing in German and
+occasionally in French. In that drawing room were gathered, by the
+Emperor's wish, not a military council (the Emperor preferred
+indefiniteness), but certain persons whose opinions he wished to know in
+view of the impending difficulties. It was not a council of war, but, as
+it were, a council to elucidate certain questions for the Emperor
+personally. To this semicouncil had been invited the Swedish General
+Armfeldt, Adjutant General Wolzogen, Wintzingerode (whom Napoleon had
+referred to as a renegade French subject), Michaud, Toll, Count Stein
+who was not a military man at all, and Pfuel himself, who, as Prince
+Andrew had heard, was the mainspring of the whole affair. Prince Andrew
+had an opportunity of getting a good look at him, for Pfuel arrived soon
+after himself and, in passing through to the drawing room, stopped a
+minute to speak to Chernyshev.
+
+At first sight, Pfuel, in his ill-made uniform of a Russian general,
+which fitted him badly like a fancy costume, seemed familiar to Prince
+Andrew, though he saw him now for the first time. There was about him
+something of Weyrother, Mack, and Schmidt, and many other German
+theorist-generals whom Prince Andrew had seen in 1805, but he was more
+typical than any of them. Prince Andrew had never yet seen a German
+theorist in whom all the characteristics of those others were united to
+such an extent.
+
+Pfuel was short and very thin but broad-boned, of coarse, robust build,
+broad in the hips, and with prominent shoulder blades. His face was much
+wrinkled and his eyes deep set. His hair had evidently been hastily
+brushed smooth in front of the temples, but stuck up behind in quaint
+little tufts. He entered the room, looking restlessly and angrily
+around, as if afraid of everything in that large apartment. Awkwardly
+holding up his sword, he addressed Chernyshev and asked in German where
+the Emperor was. One could see that he wished to pass through the rooms
+as quickly as possible, finish with the bows and greetings, and sit down
+to business in front of a map, where he would feel at home. He nodded
+hurriedly in reply to Chernyshev, and smiled ironically on hearing that
+the sovereign was inspecting the fortifications that he, Pfuel, had
+planned in accord with his theory. He muttered something to himself
+abruptly and in a bass voice, as self-assured Germans do--it might have
+been "stupid fellow"... or "the whole affair will be ruined," or
+"something absurd will come of it."... Prince Andrew did not catch what
+he said and would have passed on, but Chernyshev introduced him to
+Pfuel, remarking that Prince Andrew was just back from Turkey where the
+war had terminated so fortunately. Pfuel barely glanced--not so much at
+Prince Andrew as past him--and said, with a laugh: "That must have been
+a fine tactical war"; and, laughing contemptuously, went on into the
+room from which the sound of voices was heard.
+
+Pfuel, always inclined to be irritably sarcastic, was particularly
+disturbed that day, evidently by the fact that they had dared to inspect
+and criticize his camp in his absence. From this short interview with
+Pfuel, Prince Andrew, thanks to his Austerlitz experiences, was able to
+form a clear conception of the man. Pfuel was one of those hopelessly
+and immutably self-confident men, self-confident to the point of
+martyrdom as only Germans are, because only Germans are self-confident
+on the basis of an abstract notion--science, that is, the supposed
+knowledge of absolute truth. A Frenchman is self-assured because he
+regards himself personally, both in mind and body, as irresistibly
+attractive to men and women. An Englishman is self-assured, as being a
+citizen of the best-organized state in the world, and therefore as an
+Englishman always knows what he should do and knows that all he does as
+an Englishman is undoubtedly correct. An Italian is self-assured because
+he is excitable and easily forgets himself and other people. A Russian
+is self-assured just because he knows nothing and does not want to know
+anything, since he does not believe that anything can be known. The
+German's self-assurance is worst of all, stronger and more repulsive
+than any other, because he imagines that he knows the truth--science--
+which he himself has invented but which is for him the absolute truth.
+
+Pfuel was evidently of that sort. He had a science--the theory of
+oblique movements deduced by him from the history of Frederick the
+Great's wars, and all he came across in the history of more recent
+warfare seemed to him absurd and barbarous--monstrous collisions in
+which so many blunders were committed by both sides that these wars
+could not be called wars, they did not accord with the theory, and
+therefore could not serve as material for science.
+
+In 1806 Pfuel had been one of those responsible, for the plan of
+campaign that ended in Jena and Auerstadt, but he did not see the least
+proof of the fallibility of his theory in the disasters of that war. On
+the contrary, the deviations made from his theory were, in his opinion,
+the sole cause of the whole disaster, and with characteristically
+gleeful sarcasm he would remark, "There, I said the whole affair would
+go to the devil!" Pfuel was one of those theoreticians who so love their
+theory that they lose sight of the theory's object--its practical
+application. His love of theory made him hate everything practical, and
+he would not listen to it. He was even pleased by failures, for failures
+resulting from deviations in practice from the theory only proved to him
+the accuracy of his theory.
+
+He said a few words to Prince Andrew and Chernyshev about the present
+war, with the air of a man who knows beforehand that all will go wrong,
+and who is not displeased that it should be so. The unbrushed tufts of
+hair sticking up behind and the hastily brushed hair on his temples
+expressed this most eloquently.
+
+He passed into the next room, and the deep, querulous sounds of his
+voice were at once heard from there.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+Prince Andrew's eyes were still following Pfuel out of the room when
+Count Bennigsen entered hurriedly, and nodding to Bolkonski, but not
+pausing, went into the study, giving instructions to his adjutant as he
+went. The Emperor was following him, and Bennigsen had hastened on to
+make some preparations and to be ready to receive the sovereign.
+Chernyshev and Prince Andrew went out into the porch, where the Emperor,
+who looked fatigued, was dismounting. Marquis Paulucci was talking to
+him with particular warmth and the Emperor, with his head bent to the
+left, was listening with a dissatisfied air. The Emperor moved forward
+evidently wishing to end the conversation, but the flushed and excited
+Italian, oblivious of decorum, followed him and continued to speak.
+
+"And as for the man who advised forming this camp--the Drissa camp,"
+said Paulucci, as the Emperor mounted the steps and noticing Prince
+Andrew scanned his unfamiliar face, "as to that person, sire..."
+continued Paulucci, desperately, apparently unable to restrain himself,
+"the man who advised the Drissa camp--I see no alternative but the
+lunatic asylum or the gallows!"
+
+Without heeding the end of the Italian's remarks, and as though not
+hearing them, the Emperor, recognizing Bolkonski, addressed him
+graciously.
+
+"I am very glad to see you! Go in there where they are meeting, and wait
+for me."
+
+The Emperor went into the study. He was followed by Prince Peter
+Mikhaylovich Volkonski and Baron Stein, and the door closed behind them.
+Prince Andrew, taking advantage of the Emperor's permission, accompanied
+Paulucci, whom he had known in Turkey, into the drawing room where the
+council was assembled.
+
+Prince Peter Mikhaylovich Volkonski occupied the position, as it were,
+of chief of the Emperor's staff. He came out of the study into the
+drawing room with some maps which he spread on a table, and put
+questions on which he wished to hear the opinion of the gentlemen
+present. What had happened was that news (which afterwards proved to be
+false) had been received during the night of a movement by the French to
+outflank the Drissa camp.
+
+The first to speak was General Armfeldt who, to meet the difficulty that
+presented itself, unexpectedly proposed a perfectly new position away
+from the Petersburg and Moscow roads. The reason for this was
+inexplicable (unless he wished to show that he, too, could have an
+opinion), but he urged that at this point the army should unite and
+there await the enemy. It was plain that Armfeldt had thought out that
+plan long ago and now expounded it not so much to answer the questions
+put--which, in fact, his plan did not answer--as to avail himself of the
+opportunity to air it. It was one of the millions of proposals, one as
+good as another, that could be made as long as it was quite unknown what
+character the war would take. Some disputed his arguments, others
+defended them. Young Count Toll objected to the Swedish general's views
+more warmly than anyone else, and in the course of the dispute drew from
+his side pocket a well-filled notebook, which he asked permission to
+read to them. In these voluminous notes Toll suggested another scheme,
+totally different from Armfeldt's or Pfuel's plan of campaign. In answer
+to Toll, Paulucci suggested an advance and an attack, which, he urged,
+could alone extricate us from the present uncertainty and from the trap
+(as he called the Drissa camp) in which we were situated.
+
+During all these discussions Pfuel and his interpreter, Wolzogen (his
+"bridge" in court relations), were silent. Pfuel only snorted
+contemptuously and turned away, to show that he would never demean
+himself by replying to such nonsense as he was now hearing. So when
+Prince Volkonski, who was in the chair, called on him to give his
+opinion, he merely said:
+
+"Why ask me? General Armfeldt has proposed a splendid position with an
+exposed rear, or why not this Italian gentleman's attack--very fine, or
+a retreat, also good! Why ask me?" said he. "Why, you yourselves know
+everything better than I do."
+
+But when Volkonski said, with a frown, that it was in the Emperor's name
+that he asked his opinion, Pfuel rose and, suddenly growing animated,
+began to speak:
+
+"Everything has been spoiled, everything muddled, everybody thought they
+knew better than I did, and now you come to me! How mend matters? There
+is nothing to mend! The principles laid down by me must be strictly
+adhered to," said he, drumming on the table with his bony fingers. "What
+is the difficulty? Nonsense, childishness!"
+
+He went up to the map and speaking rapidly began proving that no
+eventuality could alter the efficiency of the Drissa camp, that
+everything had been foreseen, and that if the enemy were really going to
+outflank it, the enemy would inevitably be destroyed.
+
+Paulucci, who did not know German, began questioning him in French.
+Wolzogen came to the assistance of his chief, who spoke French badly,
+and began translating for him, hardly able to keep pace with Pfuel, who
+was rapidly demonstrating that not only all that had happened, but all
+that could happen, had been foreseen in his scheme, and that if there
+were now any difficulties the whole fault lay in the fact that his plan
+had not been precisely executed. He kept laughing sarcastically, he
+demonstrated, and at last contemptuously ceased to demonstrate, like a
+mathematician who ceases to prove in various ways the accuracy of a
+problem that has already been proved. Wolzogen took his place and
+continued to explain his views in French, every now and then turning to
+Pfuel and saying, "Is it not so, your excellency?" But Pfuel, like a man
+heated in a fight who strikes those on his own side, shouted angrily at
+his own supporter, Wolzogen:
+
+"Well, of course, what more is there to explain?"
+
+Paulucci and Michaud both attacked Wolzogen simultaneously in French.
+Armfeldt addressed Pfuel in German. Toll explained to Volkonski in
+Russian. Prince Andrew listened and observed in silence.
+
+Of all these men Prince Andrew sympathized most with Pfuel, angry,
+determined, and absurdly self-confident as he was. Of all those present,
+evidently he alone was not seeking anything for himself, nursed no
+hatred against anyone, and only desired that the plan, formed on a
+theory arrived at by years of toil, should be carried out. He was
+ridiculous, and unpleasantly sarcastic, but yet he inspired involuntary
+respect by his boundless devotion to an idea. Besides this, the remarks
+of all except Pfuel had one common trait that had not been noticeable at
+the council of war in 1805: there was now a panic fear of Napoleon's
+genius, which, though concealed, was noticeable in every rejoinder.
+Everything was assumed to be possible for Napoleon, they expected him
+from every side, and invoked his terrible name to shatter each other's
+proposals. Pfuel alone seemed to consider Napoleon a barbarian like
+everyone else who opposed his theory. But besides this feeling of
+respect, Pfuel evoked pity in Prince Andrew. From the tone in which the
+courtiers addressed him and the way Paulucci had allowed himself to
+speak of him to the Emperor, but above all from a certain desperation in
+Pfuel's own expressions, it was clear that the others knew, and Pfuel
+himself felt, that his fall was at hand. And despite his self-confidence
+and grumpy German sarcasm he was pitiable, with his hair smoothly
+brushed on the temples and sticking up in tufts behind. Though he
+concealed the fact under a show of irritation and contempt, he was
+evidently in despair that the sole remaining chance of verifying his
+theory by a huge experiment and proving its soundness to the whole world
+was slipping away from him.
+
+The discussions continued a long time, and the longer they lasted the
+more heated became the disputes, culminating in shouts and
+personalities, and the less was it possible to arrive at any general
+conclusion from all that had been said. Prince Andrew, listening to this
+polyglot talk and to these surmises, plans, refutations, and shouts,
+felt nothing but amazement at what they were saying. A thought that had
+long since and often occurred to him during his military activities--the
+idea that there is not and cannot be any science of war, and that
+therefore there can be no such thing as a military genius--now appeared
+to him an obvious truth. "What theory and science is possible about a
+matter the conditions and circumstances of which are unknown and cannot
+be defined, especially when the strength of the acting forces cannot be
+ascertained? No one was or is able to foresee in what condition our or
+the enemy's armies will be in a day's time, and no one can gauge the
+force of this or that detachment. Sometimes--when there is not a coward
+at the front to shout, 'We are cut off!' and start running, but a brave
+and jolly lad who shouts, 'Hurrah!'--a detachment of five thousand is
+worth thirty thousand, as at Schon Grabern, while at times fifty
+thousand run from eight thousand, as at Austerlitz. What science can
+there be in a matter in which, as in all practical matters, nothing can
+be defined and everything depends on innumerable conditions, the
+significance of which is determined at a particular moment which arrives
+no one knows when? Armfeldt says our army is cut in half, and Paulucci
+says we have got the French army between two fires; Michaud says that
+the worthlessness of the Drissa camp lies in having the river behind it,
+and Pfuel says that is what constitutes its strength; Toll proposes one
+plan, Armfeldt another, and they are all good and all bad, and the
+advantages of any suggestions can be seen only at the moment of trial.
+And why do they all speak of a 'military genius'? Is a man a genius who
+can order bread to be brought up at the right time and say who is to go
+to the right and who to the left? It is only because military men are
+invested with pomp and power and crowds of sychophants flatter power,
+attributing to it qualities of genius it does not possess. The best
+generals I have known were, on the contrary, stupid or absent-minded
+men. Bagration was the best, Napoleon himself admitted that. And of
+Bonaparte himself! I remember his limited, self-satisfied face on the
+field of Austerlitz. Not only does a good army commander not need any
+special qualities, on the contrary he needs the absence of the highest
+and best human attributes--love, poetry, tenderness, and philosophic
+inquiring doubt. He should be limited, firmly convinced that what he is
+doing is very important (otherwise he will not have sufficient
+patience), and only then will he be a brave leader. God forbid that he
+should be humane, should love, or pity, or think of what is just and
+unjust. It is understandable that a theory of their 'genius' was
+invented for them long ago because they have power! The success of a
+military action depends not on them, but on the man in the ranks who
+shouts, 'We are lost!' or who shouts, 'Hurrah!' And only in the ranks
+can one serve with assurance of being useful."
+
+So thought Prince Andrew as he listened to the talking, and he roused
+himself only when Paulucci called him and everyone was leaving.
+
+At the review next day the Emperor asked Prince Andrew where he would
+like to serve, and Prince Andrew lost his standing in court circles
+forever by not asking to remain attached to the sovereign's person, but
+for permission to serve in the army.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+Before the beginning of the campaign, Rostov had received a letter from
+his parents in which they told him briefly of Natasha's illness and the
+breaking off of her engagement to Prince Andrew (which they explained by
+Natasha's having rejected him) and again asked Nicholas to retire from
+the army and return home. On receiving this letter, Nicholas did not
+even make any attempt to get leave of absence or to retire from the
+army, but wrote to his parents that he was sorry Natasha was ill and her
+engagement broken off, and that he would do all he could to meet their
+wishes. To Sonya he wrote separately.
+
+"Adored friend of my soul!" he wrote. "Nothing but honor could keep me
+from returning to the country. But now, at the commencement of the
+campaign, I should feel dishonored, not only in my comrades' eyes but in
+my own, if I preferred my own happiness to my love and duty to the
+Fatherland. But this shall be our last separation. Believe me, directly
+the war is over, if I am still alive and still loved by you, I will
+throw up everything and fly to you, to press you forever to my ardent
+breast."
+
+It was, in fact, only the commencement of the campaign that prevented
+Rostov from returning home as he had promised and marrying Sonya. The
+autumn in Otradnoe with the hunting, and the winter with the Christmas
+holidays and Sonya's love, had opened out to him a vista of tranquil
+rural joys and peace such as he had never known before, and which now
+allured him. "A splendid wife, children, a good pack of hounds, a dozen
+leashes of smart borzois, agriculture, neighbors, service by
+election..." thought he. But now the campaign was beginning, and he had
+to remain with his regiment. And since it had to be so, Nicholas Rostov,
+as was natural to him, felt contented with the life he led in the
+regiment and was able to find pleasure in that life.
+
+On his return from his furlough Nicholas, having been joyfully welcomed
+by his comrades, was sent to obtain remounts and brought back from the
+Ukraine excellent horses which pleased him and earned him commendation
+from his commanders. During his absence he had been promoted captain,
+and when the regiment was put on war footing with an increase in
+numbers, he was again allotted his old squadron.
+
+The campaign began, the regiment was moved into Poland on double pay,
+new officers arrived, new men and horses, and above all everybody was
+infected with the merrily excited mood that goes with the commencement
+of a war, and Rostov, conscious of his advantageous position in the
+regiment, devoted himself entirely to the pleasures and interests of
+military service, though he knew that sooner or later he would have to
+relinquish them.
+
+The troops retired from Vilna for various complicated reasons of state,
+political and strategic. Each step of the retreat was accompanied by a
+complicated interplay of interests, arguments, and passions at
+headquarters. For the Pavlograd hussars, however, the whole of this
+retreat during the finest period of summer and with sufficient supplies
+was a very simple and agreeable business.
+
+It was only at headquarters that there was depression, uneasiness, and
+intriguing; in the body of the army they did not ask themselves where
+they were going or why. If they regretted having to retreat, it was only
+because they had to leave billets they had grown accustomed to, or some
+pretty young Polish lady. If the thought that things looked bad chanced
+to enter anyone's head, he tried to be as cheerful as befits a good
+soldier and not to think of the general trend of affairs, but only of
+the task nearest to hand. First they camped gaily before Vilna, making
+acquaintance with the Polish landowners, preparing for reviews and being
+reviewed by the Emperor and other high commanders. Then came an order to
+retreat to Sventsyani and destroy any provisions they could not carry
+away with them. Sventsyani was remembered by the hussars only as the
+drunken camp, a name the whole army gave to their encampment there, and
+because many complaints were made against the troops, who, taking
+advantage of the order to collect provisions, took also horses,
+carriages, and carpets from the Polish proprietors. Rostov remembered
+Sventsyani, because on the first day of their arrival at that small town
+he changed his sergeant major and was unable to manage all the drunken
+men of his squadron who, unknown to him, had appropriated five barrels
+of old beer. From Sventsyani they retired farther and farther to Drissa,
+and thence again beyond Drissa, drawing near to the frontier of Russia
+proper.
+
+On the thirteenth of July the Pavlograds took part in a serious action
+for the first time.
+
+On the twelfth of July, on the eve of that action, there was a heavy
+storm of rain and hail. In general, the summer of 1812 was remarkable
+for its storms.
+
+The two Pavlograd squadrons were bivouacking on a field of rye, which
+was already in ear but had been completely trodden down by cattle and
+horses. The rain was descending in torrents, and Rostov, with a young
+officer named Ilyin, his protege, was sitting in a hastily constructed
+shelter. An officer of their regiment, with long mustaches extending
+onto his cheeks, who after riding to the staff had been overtaken by the
+rain, entered Rostov's shelter.
+
+"I have come from the staff, Count. Have you heard of Raevski's
+exploit?"
+
+And the officer gave them details of the Saltanov battle, which he had
+heard at the staff.
+
+Rostov, smoking his pipe and turning his head about as the water
+trickled down his neck, listened inattentively, with an occasional
+glance at Ilyin, who was pressing close to him. This officer, a lad of
+sixteen who had recently joined the regiment, was now in the same
+relation to Nicholas that Nicholas had been to Denisov seven years
+before. Ilyin tried to imitate Rostov in everything and adored him as a
+girl might have done.
+
+Zdrzhinski, the officer with the long mustache, spoke grandiloquently of
+the Saltanov dam being "a Russian Thermopylae," and of how a deed worthy
+of antiquity had been performed by General Raevski. He recounted how
+Raevski had led his two sons onto the dam under terrific fire and had
+charged with them beside him. Rostov heard the story and not only said
+nothing to encourage Zdrzhinski's enthusiasm but, on the contrary,
+looked like a man ashamed of what he was hearing, though with no
+intention of contradicting it. Since the campaigns of Austerlitz and of
+1807 Rostov knew by experience that men always lie when describing
+military exploits, as he himself had done when recounting them; besides
+that, he had experience enough to know that nothing happens in war at
+all as we can imagine or relate it. And so he did not like Zdrzhinski's
+tale, nor did he like Zdrzhinski himself who, with his mustaches
+extending over his cheeks, bent low over the face of his hearer, as was
+his habit, and crowded Rostov in the narrow shanty. Rostov looked at him
+in silence. "In the first place, there must have been such a confusion
+and crowding on the dam that was being attacked that if Raevski did lead
+his sons there, it could have had no effect except perhaps on some dozen
+men nearest to him," thought he, "the rest could not have seen how or
+with whom Raevski came onto the dam. And even those who did see it would
+not have been much stimulated by it, for what had they to do with
+Raevski's tender paternal feelings when their own skins were in danger?
+And besides, the fate of the Fatherland did not depend on whether they
+took the Saltanov dam or not, as we are told was the case at
+Thermopylae. So why should he have made such a sacrifice? And why expose
+his own children in the battle? I would not have taken my brother Petya
+there, or even Ilyin, who's a stranger to me but a nice lad, but would
+have tried to put them somewhere under cover," Nicholas continued to
+think, as he listened to Zdrzhinski. But he did not express his
+thoughts, for in such matters, too, he had gained experience. He knew
+that this tale redounded to the glory of our arms and so one had to
+pretend not to doubt it. And he acted accordingly.
+
+"I can't stand this any more," said Ilyin, noticing that Rostov did not
+relish Zdrzhinski's conversation. "My stockings and shirt... and the
+water is running on my seat! I'll go and look for shelter. The rain
+seems less heavy."
+
+Ilyin went out and Zdrzhinski rode away.
+
+Five minutes later Ilyin, splashing through the mud, came running back
+to the shanty.
+
+"Hurrah! Rostov, come quick! I've found it! About two hundred yards away
+there's a tavern where ours have already gathered. We can at least get
+dry there, and Mary Hendrikhovna's there."
+
+Mary Hendrikhovna was the wife of the regimental doctor, a pretty young
+German woman he had married in Poland. The doctor, whether from lack of
+means or because he did not like to part from his young wife in the
+early days of their marriage, took her about with him wherever the
+hussar regiment went and his jealousy had become a standing joke among
+the hussar officers.
+
+Rostov threw his cloak over his shoulders, shouted to Lavrushka to
+follow with the things, and--now slipping in the mud, now splashing
+right through it--set off with Ilyin in the lessening rain and the
+darkness that was occasionally rent by distant lightning.
+
+"Rostov, where are you?"
+
+"Here. What lightning!" they called to one another.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+In the tavern, before which stood the doctor's covered cart, there were
+already some five officers. Mary Hendrikhovna, a plump little blonde
+German, in a dressing jacket and nightcap, was sitting on a broad bench
+in the front corner. Her husband, the doctor, lay asleep behind her.
+Rostov and Ilyin, on entering the room, were welcomed with merry shouts
+and laughter.
+
+"Dear me, how jolly we are!" said Rostov laughing.
+
+"And why do you stand there gaping?"
+
+"What swells they are! Why, the water streams from them! Don't make our
+drawing room so wet."
+
+"Don't mess Mary Hendrikhovna's dress!" cried other voices.
+
+Rostov and Ilyin hastened to find a corner where they could change into
+dry clothes without offending Mary Hendrikhovna's modesty. They were
+going into a tiny recess behind a partition to change, but found it
+completely filled by three officers who sat playing cards by the light
+of a solitary candle on an empty box, and these officers would on no
+account yield their position. Mary Hendrikhovna obliged them with the
+loan of a petticoat to be used as a curtain, and behind that screen
+Rostov and Ilyin, helped by Lavrushka who had brought their kits,
+changed their wet things for dry ones.
+
+A fire was made up in the dilapidated brick stove. A board was found,
+fixed on two saddles and covered with a horsecloth, a small samovar was
+produced and a cellaret and half a bottle of rum, and having asked Mary
+Hendrikhovna to preside, they all crowded round her. One offered her a
+clean handkerchief to wipe her charming hands, another spread a jacket
+under her little feet to keep them from the damp, another hung his coat
+over the window to keep out the draft, and yet another waved the flies
+off her husband's face, lest he should wake up.
+
+"Leave him alone," said Mary Hendrikhovna, smiling timidly and happily.
+"He is sleeping well as it is, after a sleepless night."
+
+"Oh, no, Mary Hendrikhovna," replied the officer, "one must look after
+the doctor. Perhaps he'll take pity on me someday, when it comes to
+cutting off a leg or an arm for me."
+
+There were only three tumblers, the water was so muddy that one could
+not make out whether the tea was strong or weak, and the samovar held
+only six tumblers of water, but this made it all the pleasanter to take
+turns in order of seniority to receive one's tumbler from Mary
+Hendrikhovna's plump little hands with their short and not overclean
+nails. All the officers appeared to be, and really were, in love with
+her that evening. Even those playing cards behind the partition soon
+left their game and came over to the samovar, yielding to the general
+mood of courting Mary Hendrikhovna. She, seeing herself surrounded by
+such brilliant and polite young men, beamed with satisfaction, try as
+she might to hide it, and perturbed as she evidently was each time her
+husband moved in his sleep behind her.
+
+There was only one spoon, sugar was more plentiful than anything else,
+but it took too long to dissolve, so it was decided that Mary
+Hendrikhovna should stir the sugar for everyone in turn. Rostov received
+his tumbler, and adding some rum to it asked Mary Hendrikhovna to stir
+it.
+
+"But you take it without sugar?" she said, smiling all the time, as if
+everything she said and everything the others said was very amusing and
+had a double meaning.
+
+"It is not the sugar I want, but only that your little hand should stir
+my tea."
+
+Mary Hendrikhovna assented and began looking for the spoon which someone
+meanwhile had pounced on.
+
+"Use your finger, Mary Hendrikhovna, it will be still nicer," said
+Rostov.
+
+"Too hot!" she replied, blushing with pleasure.
+
+Ilyin put a few drops of rum into the bucket of water and brought it to
+Mary Hendrikhovna, asking her to stir it with her finger.
+
+"This is my cup," said he. "Only dip your finger in it and I'll drink it
+all up."
+
+When they had emptied the samovar, Rostov took a pack of cards and
+proposed that they should play "Kings" with Mary Hendrikhovna. They drew
+lots to settle who should make up her set. At Rostov's suggestion it was
+agreed that whoever became "King" should have the right to kiss Mary
+Hendrikhovna's hand, and that the "Booby" should go to refill and reheat
+the samovar for the doctor when the latter awoke.
+
+"Well, but supposing Mary Hendrikhovna is 'King'?" asked Ilyin.
+
+"As it is, she is Queen, and her word is law!"
+
+They had hardly begun to play before the doctor's disheveled head
+suddenly appeared from behind Mary Hendrikhovna. He had been awake for
+some time, listening to what was being said, and evidently found nothing
+entertaining or amusing in what was going on. His face was sad and
+depressed. Without greeting the officers, he scratched himself and asked
+to be allowed to pass as they were blocking the way. As soon as he had
+left the room all the officers burst into loud laughter and Mary
+Hendrikhovna blushed till her eyes filled with tears and thereby became
+still more attractive to them. Returning from the yard, the doctor told
+his wife (who had ceased to smile so happily, and looked at him in
+alarm, awaiting her sentence) that the rain had ceased and they must go
+to sleep in their covered cart, or everything in it would be stolen.
+
+"But I'll send an orderly.... Two of them!" said Rostov. "What an idea,
+doctor!"
+
+"I'll stand guard on it myself!" said Ilyin.
+
+"No, gentlemen, you have had your sleep, but I have not slept for two
+nights," replied the doctor, and he sat down morosely beside his wife,
+waiting for the game to end.
+
+Seeing his gloomy face as he frowned at his wife, the officers grew
+still merrier, and some of them could not refrain from laughter, for
+which they hurriedly sought plausible pretexts. When he had gone, taking
+his wife with him, and had settled down with her in their covered cart,
+the officers lay down in the tavern, covering themselves with their wet
+cloaks, but they did not sleep for a long time; now they exchanged
+remarks, recalling the doctor's uneasiness and his wife's delight, now
+they ran out into the porch and reported what was taking place in the
+covered trap. Several times Rostov, covering his head, tried to go to
+sleep, but some remark would arouse him and conversation would be
+resumed, to the accompaniment of unreasoning, merry, childlike laughter.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+It was nearly three o'clock but no one was yet asleep, when the
+quartermaster appeared with an order to move on to the little town of
+Ostrovna. Still laughing and talking, the officers began hurriedly
+getting ready and again boiled some muddy water in the samovar. But
+Rostov went off to his squadron without waiting for tea. Day was
+breaking, the rain had ceased, and the clouds were dispersing. It felt
+damp and cold, especially in clothes that were still moist. As they left
+the tavern in the twilight of the dawn, Rostov and Ilyin both glanced
+under the wet and glistening leather hood of the doctor's cart, from
+under the apron of which his feet were sticking out, and in the middle
+of which his wife's nightcap was visible and her sleepy breathing
+audible.
+
+"She really is a dear little thing," said Rostov to Ilyin, who was
+following him.
+
+"A charming woman!" said Ilyin, with all the gravity of a boy of
+sixteen.
+
+Half an hour later the squadron was lined up on the road. The command
+was heard to "mount" and the soldiers crossed themselves and mounted.
+Rostov riding in front gave the order "Forward!" and the hussars, with
+clanking sabers and subdued talk, their horses' hoofs splashing in the
+mud, defiled in fours and moved along the broad road planted with birch
+trees on each side, following the infantry and a battery that had gone
+on in front.
+
+Tattered, blue-purple clouds, reddening in the east, were scudding
+before the wind. It was growing lighter and lighter. That curly grass
+which always grows by country roadsides became clearly visible, still
+wet with the night's rain; the drooping branches of the birches, also
+wet, swayed in the wind and flung down bright drops of water to one
+side. The soldiers' faces were more and more clearly visible. Rostov,
+always closely followed by Ilyin, rode along the side of the road
+between two rows of birch trees.
+
+When campaigning, Rostov allowed himself the indulgence of riding not a
+regimental but a Cossack horse. A judge of horses and a sportsman, he
+had lately procured himself a large, fine, mettlesome, Donets horse,
+dun-colored, with light mane and tail, and when he rode it no one could
+outgallop him. To ride this horse was a pleasure to him, and he thought
+of the horse, of the morning, of the doctor's wife, but not once of the
+impending danger.
+
+Formerly, when going into action, Rostov had felt afraid; now he had not
+the least feeling of fear. He was fearless, not because he had grown
+used to being under fire (one cannot grow used to danger), but because
+he had learned how to manage his thoughts when in danger. He had grown
+accustomed when going into action to think about anything but what would
+seem most likely to interest him--the impending danger. During the first
+period of his service, hard as he tried and much as he reproached
+himself with cowardice, he had not been able to do this, but with time
+it had come of itself. Now he rode beside Ilyin under the birch trees,
+occasionally plucking leaves from a branch that met his hand, sometimes
+touching his horse's side with his foot, or, without turning round,
+handing a pipe he had finished to an hussar riding behind him, with as
+calm and careless an air as though he were merely out for a ride. He
+glanced with pity at the excited face of Ilyin, who talked much and in
+great agitation. He knew from experience the tormenting expectation of
+terror and death the cornet was suffering and knew that only time could
+help him.
+
+As soon as the sun appeared in a clear strip of sky beneath the clouds,
+the wind fell, as if it dared not spoil the beauty of the summer morning
+after the storm; drops still continued to fall, but vertically now, and
+all was still. The whole sun appeared on the horizon and disappeared
+behind a long narrow cloud that hung above it. A few minutes later it
+reappeared brighter still from behind the top of the cloud, tearing its
+edge. Everything grew bright and glittered. And with that light, and as
+if in reply to it, came the sound of guns ahead of them.
+
+Before Rostov had had time to consider and determine the distance of
+that firing, Count Ostermann-Tolstoy's adjutant came galloping from
+Vitebsk with orders to advance at a trot along the road.
+
+The squadron overtook and passed the infantry and the battery--which had
+also quickened their pace--rode down a hill, and passing through an
+empty and deserted village again ascended. The horses began to lather
+and the men to flush.
+
+"Halt! Dress your ranks!" the order of the regimental commander was
+heard ahead. "Forward by the left. Walk, march!" came the order from in
+front.
+
+And the hussars, passing along the line of troops on the left flank of
+our position, halted behind our uhlans who were in the front line. To
+the right stood our infantry in a dense column: they were the reserve.
+Higher up the hill, on the very horizon, our guns were visible through
+the wonderfully clear air, brightly illuminated by slanting morning
+sunbeams. In front, beyond a hollow dale, could be seen the enemy's
+columns and guns. Our advanced line, already in action, could be heard
+briskly exchanging shots with the enemy in the dale.
+
+At these sounds, long unheard, Rostov's spirits rose, as at the strains
+of the merriest music. Trap-ta-ta-tap! cracked the shots, now together,
+now several quickly one after another. Again all was silent and then
+again it sounded as if someone were walking on detonators and exploding
+them.
+
+The hussars remained in the same place for about an hour. A cannonade
+began. Count Ostermann with his suite rode up behind the squadron,
+halted, spoke to the commander of the regiment, and rode up the hill to
+the guns.
+
+After Ostermann had gone, a command rang out to the uhlans.
+
+"Form column! Prepare to charge!"
+
+The infantry in front of them parted into platoons to allow the cavalry
+to pass. The uhlans started, the streamers on their spears fluttering,
+and trotted downhill toward the French cavalry which was seen below to
+the left.
+
+As soon as the uhlans descended the hill, the hussars were ordered up
+the hill to support the battery. As they took the places vacated by the
+uhlans, bullets came from the front, whining and whistling, but fell
+spent without taking effect.
+
+The sounds, which he had not heard for so long, had an even more
+pleasurable and exhilarating effect on Rostov than the previous sounds
+of firing. Drawing himself up, he viewed the field of battle opening out
+before him from the hill, and with his whole soul followed the movement
+of the uhlans. They swooped down close to the French dragoons, something
+confused happened there amid the smoke, and five minutes later our
+uhlans were galloping back, not to the place they had occupied but more
+to the left, and among the orange-colored uhlans on chestnut horses and
+behind them, in a large group, blue French dragoons on gray horses could
+be seen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+Rostov, with his keen sportsman's eye, was one of the first to catch
+sight of these blue French dragoons pursuing our uhlans. Nearer and
+nearer in disorderly crowds came the uhlans and the French dragoons
+pursuing them. He could already see how these men, who looked so small
+at the foot of the hill, jostled and overtook one another, waving their
+arms and their sabers in the air.
+
+Rostov gazed at what was happening before him as at a hunt. He felt
+instinctively that if the hussars struck at the French dragoons now, the
+latter could not withstand them, but if a charge was to be made it must
+be done now, at that very moment, or it would be too late. He looked
+around. A captain, standing beside him, was gazing like himself with
+eyes fixed on the cavalry below them.
+
+"Andrew Sevastyanych!" said Rostov. "You know, we could crush them...."
+
+"A fine thing too!" replied the captain, "and really..."
+
+Rostov, without waiting to hear him out, touched his horse, galloped to
+the front of his squadron, and before he had time to finish giving the
+word of command, the whole squadron, sharing his feeling, was following
+him. Rostov himself did not know how or why he did it. He acted as he
+did when hunting, without reflecting or considering. He saw the dragoons
+near and that they were galloping in disorder; he knew they could not
+withstand an attack--knew there was only that moment and that if he let
+it slip it would not return. The bullets were whining and whistling so
+stimulatingly around him and his horse was so eager to go that he could
+not restrain himself. He touched his horse, gave the word of command,
+and immediately, hearing behind him the tramp of the horses of his
+deployed squadron, rode at full trot downhill toward the dragoons.
+Hardly had they reached the bottom of the hill before their pace
+instinctively changed to a gallop, which grew faster and faster as they
+drew nearer to our uhlans and the French dragoons who galloped after
+them. The dragoons were now close at hand. On seeing the hussars, the
+foremost began to turn, while those behind began to halt. With the same
+feeling with which he had galloped across the path of a wolf, Rostov
+gave rein to his Donets horse and galloped to intersect the path of the
+dragoons' disordered lines. One Uhlan stopped, another who was on foot
+flung himself to the ground to avoid being knocked over, and a riderless
+horse fell in among the hussars. Nearly all the French dragoons were
+galloping back. Rostov, picking out one on a gray horse, dashed after
+him. On the way he came upon a bush, his gallant horse cleared it, and
+almost before he had righted himself in his saddle he saw that he would
+immediately overtake the enemy he had selected. That Frenchman, by his
+uniform an officer, was going at a gallop, crouching on his gray horse
+and urging it on with his saber. In another moment Rostov's horse dashed
+its breast against the hindquarters of the officer's horse, almost
+knocking it over, and at the same instant Rostov, without knowing why,
+raised his saber and struck the Frenchman with it.
+
+The instant he had done this, all Rostov's animation vanished. The
+officer fell, not so much from the blow--which had but slightly cut his
+arm above the elbow--as from the shock to his horse and from fright.
+Rostov reined in his horse, and his eyes sought his foe to see whom he
+had vanquished. The French dragoon officer was hopping with one foot on
+the ground, the other being caught in the stirrup. His eyes, screwed up
+with fear as if he every moment expected another blow, gazed up at
+Rostov with shrinking terror. His pale and mud-stained face--fair and
+young, with a dimple in the chin and light-blue eyes--was not an enemy's
+face at all suited to a battlefield, but a most ordinary, homelike face.
+Before Rostov had decided what to do with him, the officer cried, "I
+surrender!" He hurriedly but vainly tried to get his foot out of the
+stirrup and did not remove his frightened blue eyes from Rostov's face.
+Some hussars who galloped up disengaged his foot and helped him into the
+saddle. On all sides, the hussars were busy with the dragoons; one was
+wounded, but though his face was bleeding, he would not give up his
+horse; another was perched up behind an hussar with his arms round him;
+a third was being helped by an hussar to mount his horse. In front, the
+French infantry were firing as they ran. The hussars galloped hastily
+back with their prisoners. Rostov galloped back with the rest, aware of
+an unpleasant feeling of depression in his heart. Something vague and
+confused, which he could not at all account for, had come over him with
+the capture of that officer and the blow he had dealt him.
+
+Count Ostermann-Tolstoy met the returning hussars, sent for Rostov,
+thanked him, and said he would report his gallant deed to the Emperor
+and would recommend him for a St. George's Cross. When sent for by Count
+Ostermann, Rostov, remembering that he had charged without orders, felt
+sure his commander was sending for him to punish him for breach of
+discipline. Ostermann's flattering words and promise of a reward should
+therefore have struck him all the more pleasantly, but he still felt
+that same vaguely disagreeable feeling of moral nausea. "But what on
+earth is worrying me?" he asked himself as he rode back from the
+general. "Ilyin? No, he's safe. Have I disgraced myself in any way? No,
+that's not it." Something else, resembling remorse, tormented him. "Yes,
+oh yes, that French officer with the dimple. And I remember how my arm
+paused when I raised it."
+
+Rostov saw the prisoners being led away and galloped after them to have
+a look at his Frenchman with the dimple on his chin. He was sitting in
+his foreign uniform on an hussar packhorse and looked anxiously about
+him; The sword cut on his arm could scarcely be called a wound. He
+glanced at Rostov with a feigned smile and waved his hand in greeting.
+Rostov still had the same indefinite feeling, as of shame.
+
+All that day and the next his friends and comrades noticed that Rostov,
+without being dull or angry, was silent, thoughtful, and preoccupied. He
+drank reluctantly, tried to remain alone, and kept turning something
+over in his mind.
+
+Rostov was always thinking about that brilliant exploit of his, which to
+his amazement had gained him the St. George's Cross and even given him a
+reputation for bravery, and there was something he could not at all
+understand. "So others are even more afraid than I am!" he thought. "So
+that's all there is in what is called heroism! And did I do it for my
+country's sake? And how was he to blame, with his dimple and blue eyes?
+And how frightened he was! He thought that I should kill him. Why should
+I kill him? My hand trembled. And they have given me a St. George's
+Cross.... I can't make it out at all."
+
+But while Nicholas was considering these questions and still could reach
+no clear solution of what puzzled him so, the wheel of fortune in the
+service, as often happens, turned in his favor. After the affair at
+Ostrovna he was brought into notice, received command of an hussar
+battalion, and when a brave officer was needed he was chosen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+On receiving news of Natasha's illness, the countess, though not quite
+well yet and still weak, went to Moscow with Petya and the rest of the
+household, and the whole family moved from Marya Dmitrievna's house to
+their own and settled down in town.
+
+Natasha's illness was so serious that, fortunately for her and for her
+parents, the consideration of all that had caused the illness, her
+conduct and the breaking off of her engagement, receded into the
+background. She was so ill that it was impossible for them to consider
+in how far she was to blame for what had happened. She could not eat or
+sleep, grew visibly thinner, coughed, and, as the doctors made them
+feel, was in danger. They could not think of anything but how to help
+her. Doctors came to see her singly and in consultation, talked much in
+French, German, and Latin, blamed one another, and prescribed a great
+variety of medicines for all the diseases known to them, but the simple
+idea never occurred to any of them that they could not know the disease
+Natasha was suffering from, as no disease suffered by a live man can be
+known, for every living person has his own peculiarities and always has
+his own peculiar, personal, novel, complicated disease, unknown to
+medicine--not a disease of the lungs, liver, skin, heart, nerves, and so
+on mentioned in medical books, but a disease consisting of one of the
+innumerable combinations of the maladies of those organs. This simple
+thought could not occur to the doctors (as it cannot occur to a wizard
+that he is unable to work his charms) because the business of their
+lives was to cure, and they received money for it and had spent the best
+years of their lives on that business. But, above all, that thought was
+kept out of their minds by the fact that they saw they were really
+useful, as in fact they were to the whole Rostov family. Their
+usefulness did not depend on making the patient swallow substances for
+the most part harmful (the harm was scarcely perceptible, as they were
+given in small doses), but they were useful, necessary, and
+indispensable because they satisfied a mental need of the invalid and of
+those who loved her--and that is why there are, and always will be,
+pseudo-healers, wise women, homeopaths, and allopaths. They satisfied
+that eternal human need for hope of relief, for sympathy, and that
+something should be done, which is felt by those who are suffering. They
+satisfied the need seen in its most elementary form in a child, when it
+wants to have a place rubbed that has been hurt. A child knocks itself
+and runs at once to the arms of its mother or nurse to have the aching
+spot rubbed or kissed, and it feels better when this is done. The child
+cannot believe that the strongest and wisest of its people have no
+remedy for its pain, and the hope of relief and the expression of its
+mother's sympathy while she rubs the bump comforts it. The doctors were
+of use to Natasha because they kissed and rubbed her bump, assuring her
+that it would soon pass if only the coachman went to the chemist's in
+the Arbat and got a powder and some pills in a pretty box for a ruble
+and seventy kopeks, and if she took those powders in boiled water at
+intervals of precisely two hours, neither more nor less.
+
+What would Sonya and the count and countess have done, how would they
+have looked, if nothing had been done, if there had not been those pills
+to give by the clock, the warm drinks, the chicken cutlets, and all the
+other details of life ordered by the doctors, the carrying out of which
+supplied an occupation and consolation to the family circle? How would
+the count have borne his dearly loved daughter's illness had he not
+known that it was costing him a thousand rubles, and that he would not
+grudge thousands more to benefit her, or had he not known that if her
+illness continued he would not grudge yet other thousands and would take
+her abroad for consultations there, and had he not been able to explain
+the details of how Metivier and Feller had not understood the symptoms,
+but Frise had, and Mudrov had diagnosed them even better? What would the
+countess have done had she not been able sometimes to scold the invalid
+for not strictly obeying the doctor's orders?
+
+"You'll never get well like that," she would say, forgetting her grief
+in her vexation, "if you won't obey the doctor and take your medicine at
+the right time! You mustn't trifle with it, you know, or it may turn to
+pneumonia," she would go on, deriving much comfort from the utterance of
+that foreign word, incomprehensible to others as well as to herself.
+
+What would Sonya have done without the glad consciousness that she had
+not undressed during the first three nights, in order to be ready to
+carry out all the doctor's injunctions with precision, and that she
+still kept awake at night so as not to miss the proper time when the
+slightly harmful pills in the little gilt box had to be administered?
+Even to Natasha herself it was pleasant to see that so many sacrifices
+were being made for her sake, and to know that she had to take medicine
+at certain hours, though she declared that no medicine would cure her
+and that it was all nonsense. And it was even pleasant to be able to
+show, by disregarding the orders, that she did not believe in medical
+treatment and did not value her life.
+
+The doctor came every day, felt her pulse, looked at her tongue, and
+regardless of her grief-stricken face joked with her. But when he had
+gone into another room, to which the countess hurriedly followed him, he
+assumed a grave air and thoughtfully shaking his head said that though
+there was danger, he had hopes of the effect of this last medicine and
+one must wait and see, that the malady was chiefly mental, but... And
+the countess, trying to conceal the action from herself and from him,
+slipped a gold coin into his hand and always returned to the patient
+with a more tranquil mind.
+
+The symptoms of Natasha's illness were that she ate little, slept
+little, coughed, and was always low-spirited. The doctors said that she
+could not get on without medical treatment, so they kept her in the
+stifling atmosphere of the town, and the Rostovs did not move to the
+country that summer of 1812.
+
+In spite of the many pills she swallowed and the drops and powders out
+of the little bottles and boxes of which Madame Schoss who was fond of
+such things made a large collection, and in spite of being deprived of
+the country life to which she was accustomed, youth prevailed. Natasha's
+grief began to be overlaid by the impressions of daily life, it ceased
+to press so painfully on her heart, it gradually faded into the past,
+and she began to recover physically.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+Natasha was calmer but no happier. She not merely avoided all external
+forms of pleasure--balls, promenades, concerts, and theaters--but she
+never laughed without a sound of tears in her laughter. She could not
+sing. As soon as she began to laugh, or tried to sing by herself, tears
+choked her: tears of remorse, tears at the recollection of those pure
+times which could never return, tears of vexation that she should so
+uselessly have ruined her young life which might have been so happy.
+Laughter and singing in particular seemed to her like a blasphemy, in
+face of her sorrow. Without any need of self-restraint, no wish to
+coquet ever entered her head. She said and felt at that time that no man
+was more to her than Nastasya Ivanovna, the buffoon. Something stood
+sentinel within her and forbade her every joy. Besides, she had lost all
+the old interests of her carefree girlish life that had been so full of
+hope. The previous autumn, the hunting, "Uncle," and the Christmas
+holidays spent with Nicholas at Otradnoe were what she recalled oftenest
+and most painfully. What would she not have given to bring back even a
+single day of that time! But it was gone forever. Her presentiment at
+the time had not deceived her--that that state of freedom and readiness
+for any enjoyment would not return again. Yet it was necessary to live
+on.
+
+It comforted her to reflect that she was not better as she had formerly
+imagined, but worse, much worse, than anybody else in the world. But
+this was not enough. She knew that, and asked herself, "What next?" But
+there was nothing to come. There was no joy in life, yet life was
+passing. Natasha apparently tried not to be a burden or a hindrance to
+anyone, but wanted nothing for herself. She kept away from everyone in
+the house and felt at ease only with her brother Petya. She liked to be
+with him better than with the others, and when alone with him she
+sometimes laughed. She hardly ever left the house and of those who came
+to see them was glad to see only one person, Pierre. It would have been
+impossible to treat her with more delicacy, greater care, and at the
+same time more seriously than did Count Bezukhov. Natasha unconsciously
+felt this delicacy and so found great pleasure in his society. But she
+was not even grateful to him for it; nothing good on Pierre's part
+seemed to her to be an effort, it seemed so natural for him to be kind
+to everyone that there was no merit in his kindness. Sometimes Natasha
+noticed embarrassment and awkwardness on his part in her presence,
+especially when he wanted to do something to please her, or feared that
+something they spoke of would awaken memories distressing to her. She
+noticed this and attributed it to his general kindness and shyness,
+which she imagined must be the same toward everyone as it was to her.
+After those involuntary words--that if he were free he would have asked
+on his knees for her hand and her love--uttered at a moment when she was
+so strongly agitated, Pierre never spoke to Natasha of his feelings; and
+it seemed plain to her that those words, which had then so comforted
+her, were spoken as all sorts of meaningless words are spoken to comfort
+a crying child. It was not because Pierre was a married man, but because
+Natasha felt very strongly with him that moral barrier the absence of
+which she had experienced with Kuragin that it never entered her head
+that the relations between him and herself could lead to love on her
+part, still less on his, or even to the kind of tender, self-conscious,
+romantic friendship between a man and a woman of which she had known
+several instances.
+
+Before the end of the fast of St. Peter, Agrafena Ivanovna Belova, a
+country neighbor of the Rostovs, came to Moscow to pay her devotions at
+the shrines of the Moscow saints. She suggested that Natasha should fast
+and prepare for Holy Communion, and Natasha gladly welcomed the idea.
+Despite the doctor's orders that she should not go out early in the
+morning, Natasha insisted on fasting and preparing for the sacrament,
+not as they generally prepared for it in the Rostov family by attending
+three services in their own house, but as Agrafena Ivanovna did, by
+going to church every day for a week and not once missing Vespers,
+Matins, or Mass.
+
+The countess was pleased with Natasha's zeal; after the poor results of
+the medical treatment, in the depths of her heart she hoped that prayer
+might help her daughter more than medicines and, though not without fear
+and concealing it from the doctor, she agreed to Natasha's wish and
+entrusted her to Belova. Agrafena Ivanovna used to come to wake Natasha
+at three in the morning, but generally found her already awake. She was
+afraid of being late for Matins. Hastily washing, and meekly putting on
+her shabbiest dress and an old mantilla, Natasha, shivering in the fresh
+air, went out into the deserted streets lit by the clear light of dawn.
+By Agrafena Ivanovna's advice Natasha prepared herself not in their own
+parish, but at a church where, according to the devout Agrafena
+Ivanovna, the priest was a man of very severe and lofty life. There were
+never many people in the church; Natasha always stood beside Belova in
+the customary place before an icon of the Blessed Virgin, let into the
+screen before the choir on the left side, and a feeling, new to her, of
+humility before something great and incomprehensible, seized her when at
+that unusual morning hour, gazing at the dark face of the Virgin
+illuminated by the candles burning before it and by the morning light
+falling from the window, she listened to the words of the service which
+she tried to follow with understanding. When she understood them her
+personal feeling became interwoven in the prayers with shades of its
+own. When she did not understand, it was sweeter still to think that the
+wish to understand everything is pride, that it is impossible to
+understand all, that it is only necessary to believe and to commit
+oneself to God, whom she felt guiding her soul at those moments. She
+crossed herself, bowed low, and when she did not understand, in horror
+at her own vileness, simply asked God to forgive her everything,
+everything, to have mercy upon her. The prayers to which she surrendered
+herself most of all were those of repentance. On her way home at an
+early hour when she met no one but bricklayers going to work or men
+sweeping the street, and everybody within the houses was still asleep,
+Natasha experienced a feeling new to her, a sense of the possibility of
+correcting her faults, the possibility of a new, clean life, and of
+happiness.
+
+During the whole week she spent in this way, that feeling grew every
+day. And the happiness of taking communion, or "communing" as Agrafena
+Ivanovna, joyously playing with the word, called it, seemed to Natasha
+so great that she felt she should never live till that blessed Sunday.
+
+But the happy day came, and on that memorable Sunday, when, dressed in
+white muslin, she returned home after communion, for the first time for
+many months she felt calm and not oppressed by the thought of the life
+that lay before her.
+
+The doctor who came to see her that day ordered her to continue the
+powders he had prescribed a fortnight previously.
+
+"She must certainly go on taking them morning and evening," said he,
+evidently sincerely satisfied with his success. "Only, please be
+particular about it.
+
+"Be quite easy," he continued playfully, as he adroitly took the gold
+coin in his palm. "She will soon be singing and frolicking about. The
+last medicine has done her a very great deal of good. She has freshened
+up very much."
+
+The countess, with a cheerful expression on her face, looked down at her
+nails and spat a little for luck as she returned to the drawing room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+At the beginning of July more and more disquieting reports about the war
+began to spread in Moscow; people spoke of an appeal by the Emperor to
+the people, and of his coming himself from the army to Moscow. And as up
+to the eleventh of July no manifesto or appeal had been received,
+exaggerated reports became current about them and about the position of
+Russia. It was said that the Emperor was leaving the army because it was
+in danger, it was said that Smolensk had surrendered, that Napoleon had
+an army of a million and only a miracle could save Russia.
+
+On the eleventh of July, which was Saturday, the manifesto was received
+but was not yet in print, and Pierre, who was at the Rostovs', promised
+to come to dinner next day, Sunday, and bring a copy of the manifesto
+and appeal, which he would obtain from Count Rostopchin.
+
+That Sunday, the Rostovs went to Mass at the Razumovskis' private chapel
+as usual. It was a hot July day. Even at ten o'clock, when the Rostovs
+got out of their carriage at the chapel, the sultry air, the shouts of
+hawkers, the light and gay summer clothes of the crowd, the dusty leaves
+of the trees on the boulevard, the sounds of the band and the white
+trousers of a battalion marching to parade, the rattling of wheels on
+the cobblestones, and the brilliant, hot sunshine were all full of that
+summer languor, that content and discontent with the present, which is
+most strongly felt on a bright, hot day in town. All the Moscow
+notabilities, all the Rostovs' acquaintances, were at the Razumovskis'
+chapel, for, as if expecting something to happen, many wealthy families
+who usually left town for their country estates had not gone away that
+summer. As Natasha, at her mother's side, passed through the crowd
+behind a liveried footman who cleared the way for them, she heard a
+young man speaking about her in too loud a whisper.
+
+"That's Rostova, the one who..."
+
+"She's much thinner, but all the same she's pretty!"
+
+She heard, or thought she heard, the names of Kuragin and Bolkonski. But
+she was always imagining that. It always seemed to her that everyone who
+looked at her was thinking only of what had happened to her. With a
+sinking heart, wretched as she always was now when she found herself in
+a crowd, Natasha in her lilac silk dress trimmed with black lace walked-
+-as women can walk--with the more repose and stateliness the greater the
+pain and shame in her soul. She knew for certain that she was pretty,
+but this no longer gave her satisfaction as it used to. On the contrary
+it tormented her more than anything else of late, and particularly so on
+this bright, hot summer day in town. "It's Sunday again--another week
+past," she thought, recalling that she had been here the Sunday before,
+"and always the same life that is no life, and the same surroundings in
+which it used to be so easy to live. I'm pretty, I'm young, and I know
+that now I am good. I used to be bad, but now I know I am good," she
+thought, "but yet my best years are slipping by and are no good to
+anyone." She stood by her mother's side and exchanged nods with
+acquaintances near her. From habit she scrutinized the ladies' dresses,
+condemned the bearing of a lady standing close by who was not crossing
+herself properly but in a cramped manner, and again she thought with
+vexation that she was herself being judged and was judging others, and
+suddenly, at the sound of the service, she felt horrified at her own
+vileness, horrified that the former purity of her soul was again lost to
+her.
+
+A comely, fresh-looking old man was conducting the service with that
+mild solemnity which has so elevating and soothing an effect on the
+souls of the worshipers. The gates of the sanctuary screen were closed,
+the curtain was slowly drawn, and from behind it a soft mysterious voice
+pronounced some words. Tears, the cause of which she herself did not
+understand, made Natasha's breast heave, and a joyous but oppressive
+feeling agitated her.
+
+"Teach me what I should do, how to live my life, how I may grow good
+forever, forever!" she pleaded.
+
+The deacon came out onto the raised space before the altar screen and,
+holding his thumb extended, drew his long hair from under his dalmatic
+and, making the sign of the cross on his breast, began in a loud and
+solemn voice to recite the words of the prayer...
+
+"In peace let us pray unto the Lord."
+
+"As one community, without distinction of class, without enmity, united
+by brotherly love--let us pray!" thought Natasha.
+
+"For the peace that is from above, and for the salvation of our souls."
+
+"For the world of angels and all the spirits who dwell above us," prayed
+Natasha.
+
+When they prayed for the warriors, she thought of her brother and
+Denisov. When they prayed for all traveling by land and sea, she
+remembered Prince Andrew, prayed for him, and asked God to forgive her
+all the wrongs she had done him. When they prayed for those who love us,
+she prayed for the members of her own family, her father and mother and
+Sonya, realizing for the first time how wrongly she had acted toward
+them, and feeling all the strength of her love for them. When they
+prayed for those who hate us, she tried to think of her enemies and
+people who hated her, in order to pray for them. She included among her
+enemies the creditors and all who had business dealings with her father,
+and always at the thought of enemies and those who hated her she
+remembered Anatole who had done her so much harm--and though he did not
+hate her she gladly prayed for him as for an enemy. Only at prayer did
+she feel able to think clearly and calmly of Prince Andrew and Anatole,
+as men for whom her feelings were as nothing compared with her awe and
+devotion to God. When they prayed for the Imperial family and the Synod,
+she bowed very low and made the sign of the cross, saying to herself
+that even if she did not understand, still she could not doubt, and at
+any rate loved the governing Synod and prayed for it.
+
+When he had finished the Litany the deacon crossed the stole over his
+breast and said, "Let us commit ourselves and our whole lives to Christ
+the Lord!"
+
+"Commit ourselves to God," Natasha inwardly repeated. "Lord God, I
+submit myself to Thy will!" she thought. "I want nothing, wish for
+nothing; teach me what to do and how to use my will! Take me, take me!"
+prayed Natasha, with impatient emotion in her heart, not crossing
+herself but letting her slender arms hang down as if expecting some
+invisible power at any moment to take her and deliver her from herself,
+from her regrets, desires, remorse, hopes, and sins.
+
+The countess looked round several times at her daughter's softened face
+and shining eyes and prayed God to help her.
+
+Unexpectedly, in the middle of the service, and not in the usual order
+Natasha knew so well, the deacon brought out a small stool, the one he
+knelt on when praying on Trinity Sunday, and placed it before the doors
+of the sanctuary screen. The priest came out with his purple velvet
+biretta on his head, adjusted his hair, and knelt down with an effort.
+Everybody followed his example and they looked at one another in
+surprise. Then came the prayer just received from the Synod--a prayer
+for the deliverance of Russia from hostile invasion.
+
+"Lord God of might, God of our salvation!" began the priest in that
+voice, clear, not grandiloquent but mild, in which only the Slav clergy
+read and which acts so irresistibly on a Russian heart.
+
+"Lord God of might, God of our salvation! Look this day in mercy and
+blessing on Thy humble people, and graciously hear us, spare us, and
+have mercy upon us! This foe confounding Thy land, desiring to lay waste
+the whole world, rises against us; these lawless men are gathered
+together to overthrow Thy kingdom, to destroy Thy dear Jerusalem, Thy
+beloved Russia; to defile Thy temples, to overthrow Thine altars, and to
+desecrate our holy shrines. How long, O Lord, how long shall the wicked
+triumph? How long shall they wield unlawful power?
+
+"Lord God! Hear us when we pray to Thee; strengthen with Thy might our
+most gracious sovereign lord, the Emperor Alexander Pavlovich; be
+mindful of his uprightness and meekness, reward him according to his
+righteousness, and let it preserve us, Thy chosen Israel! Bless his
+counsels, his undertakings, and his work; strengthen his kingdom by
+Thine almighty hand, and give him victory over his enemy, even as Thou
+gavest Moses the victory over Amalek, Gideon over Midian, and David over
+Goliath. Preserve his army, put a bow of brass in the hands of those who
+have armed themselves in Thy Name, and gird their loins with strength
+for the fight. Take up the spear and shield and arise to help us;
+confound and put to shame those who have devised evil against us, may
+they be before the faces of Thy faithful warriors as dust before the
+wind, and may Thy mighty Angel confound them and put them to flight; may
+they be ensnared when they know it not, and may the plots they have laid
+in secret be turned against them; let them fall before Thy servants'
+feet and be laid low by our hosts! Lord, Thou art able to save both
+great and small; Thou art God, and man cannot prevail against Thee!
+
+"God of our fathers! Remember Thy bounteous mercy and loving-kindness
+which are from of old; turn not Thy face from us, but be gracious to our
+unworthiness, and in Thy great goodness and Thy many mercies regard not
+our transgressions and iniquities! Create in us a clean heart and renew
+a right spirit within us, strengthen us all in Thy faith, fortify our
+hope, inspire us with true love one for another, arm us with unity of
+spirit in the righteous defense of the heritage Thou gavest to us and to
+our fathers, and let not the scepter of the wicked be exalted against
+the destiny of those Thou hast sanctified.
+
+"O Lord our God, in whom we believe and in whom we put our trust, let us
+not be confounded in our hope of Thy mercy, and give us a token of Thy
+blessing, that those who hate us and our Orthodox faith may see it and
+be put to shame and perish, and may all the nations know that Thou art
+the Lord and we are Thy people. Show Thy mercy upon us this day, O Lord,
+and grant us Thy salvation; make the hearts of Thy servants to rejoice
+in Thy mercy; smite down our enemies and destroy them swiftly beneath
+the feet of Thy faithful servants! For Thou art the defense, the succor,
+and the victory of them that put their trust in Thee, and to Thee be all
+glory, to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, now and forever, world without
+end. Amen."
+
+In Natasha's receptive condition of soul this prayer affected her
+strongly. She listened to every word about the victory of Moses over
+Amalek, of Gideon over Midian, and of David over Goliath, and about the
+destruction of "Thy Jerusalem," and she prayed to God with the
+tenderness and emotion with which her heart was overflowing, but without
+fully understanding what she was asking of God in that prayer. She
+shared with all her heart in the prayer for the spirit of righteousness,
+for the strengthening of the heart by faith and hope, and its animation
+by love. But she could not pray that her enemies might be trampled under
+foot when but a few minutes before she had been wishing she had more of
+them that she might pray for them. But neither could she doubt the
+righteousness of the prayer that was being read on bended knees. She
+felt in her heart a devout and tremulous awe at the thought of the
+punishment that overtakes men for their sins, and especially of her own
+sins, and she prayed to God to forgive them all, and her too, and to
+give them all, and her too, peace and happiness. And it seemed to her
+that God heard her prayer.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+From the day when Pierre, after leaving the Rostovs' with Natasha's
+grateful look fresh in his mind, had gazed at the comet that seemed to
+be fixed in the sky and felt that something new was appearing on his own
+horizon--from that day the problem of the vanity and uselessness of all
+earthly things, that had incessantly tormented him, no longer presented
+itself. That terrible question "Why?" "Wherefore?" which had come to him
+amid every occupation, was now replaced, not by another question or by a
+reply to the former question, but by her image. When he listened to, or
+himself took part in, trivial conversations, when he read or heard of
+human baseness or folly, he was not horrified as formerly, and did not
+ask himself why men struggled so about these things when all is so
+transient and incomprehensible--but he remembered her as he had last
+seen her, and all his doubts vanished--not because she had answered the
+questions that had haunted him, but because his conception of her
+transferred him instantly to another, a brighter, realm of spiritual
+activity in which no one could be justified or guilty--a realm of beauty
+and love which it was worth living for. Whatever worldly baseness
+presented itself to him, he said to himself:
+
+"Well, supposing N. N. swindled the country and the Tsar, and the
+country and the Tsar confer honors upon him, what does that matter? She
+smiled at me yesterday and asked me to come again, and I love her, and
+no one will ever know it." And his soul felt calm and peaceful.
+
+Pierre still went into society, drank as much and led the same idle and
+dissipated life, because besides the hours he spent at the Rostovs'
+there were other hours he had to spend somehow, and the habits and
+acquaintances he had made in Moscow formed a current that bore him along
+irresistibly. But latterly, when more and more disquieting reports came
+from the seat of war and Natasha's health began to improve and she no
+longer aroused in him the former feeling of careful pity, an ever-
+increasing restlessness, which he could not explain, took possession of
+him. He felt that the condition he was in could not continue long, that
+a catastrophe was coming which would change his whole life, and he
+impatiently sought everywhere for signs of that approaching catastrophe.
+One of his brother Masons had revealed to Pierre the following prophecy
+concerning Napoleon, drawn from the Revelation of St. John.
+
+In chapter 13, verse 18, of the Apocalypse, it is said:
+
+Here is wisdom. Let him that hath understanding count the number of the
+beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is Six hundred
+threescore and six.
+
+And in the fifth verse of the same chapter:
+
+And there was given unto him a mouth speaking great things and
+blasphemies; and power was given unto him to continue forty and two
+months.
+
+The French alphabet, written out with the same numerical values as the
+Hebrew, in which the first nine letters denote units and the others
+tens, will have the following significance:
+
+
+a   b   c   d   e   f   g   h   i   k 1   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9
+10 l    m    n    o    p    q    r    s 20   30   40   50   60   70   80
+90 t    u    v    w    x    y 100  110  120  130  140  150 z 160
+
+Writing the words L'Empereur Napoleon in numbers, it appears that the
+sum of them is 666, and that Napoleon was therefore the beast foretold
+in the Apocalypse. Moreover, by applying the same system to the words
+quarante-deux, * which was the term allowed to the beast that "spoke
+great things and blasphemies," the same number 666 was obtained; from
+which it followed that the limit fixed for Napoleon's power had come in
+the year 1812 when the French emperor was forty-two. This prophecy
+pleased Pierre very much and he often asked himself what would put an
+end to the power of the beast, that is, of Napoleon, and tried by the
+same system of using letters as numbers and adding them up, to find an
+answer to the question that engrossed him. He wrote the words L'Empereur
+Alexandre, La nation russe and added up their numbers, but the sums were
+either more or less than 666. Once when making such calculations he
+wrote down his own name in French, Comte Pierre Besouhoff, but the sum
+of the numbers did not come right. Then he changed the spelling,
+substituting a z for the s and adding de and the article le, still
+without obtaining the desired result. Then it occurred to him: if the
+answer to the question were contained in his name, his nationality would
+also be given in the answer. So he wrote Le russe Besuhof and adding up
+the numbers got 671. This was only five too much, and five was
+represented by e, the very letter elided from the article le before the
+word Empereur. By omitting the e, though incorrectly, Pierre got the
+answer he sought. L'russe Besuhof made 666. This discovery excited him.
+How, or by what means, he was connected with the great event foretold in
+the Apocalypse he did not know, but he did not doubt that connection for
+a moment. His love for Natasha, Antichrist, Napoleon, the invasion, the
+comet, 666, L'Empereur Napoleon, and L'russe Besuhof--all this had to
+mature and culminate, to lift him out of that spellbound, petty sphere
+of Moscow habits in which he felt himself held captive and lead him to a
+great achievement and great happiness.
+
+
+* Forty-two.
+
+On the eve of the Sunday when the special prayer was read, Pierre had
+promised the Rostovs to bring them, from Count Rostopchin whom he knew
+well, both the appeal to the people and the news from the army. In the
+morning, when he went to call at Rostopchin's he met there a courier
+fresh from the army, an acquaintance of his own, who often danced at
+Moscow balls.
+
+"Do, please, for heaven's sake, relieve me of something!" said the
+courier. "I have a sackful of letters to parents."
+
+Among these letters was one from Nicholas Rostov to his father. Pierre
+took that letter, and Rostopchin also gave him the Emperor's appeal to
+Moscow, which had just been printed, the last army orders, and his own
+most recent bulletin. Glancing through the army orders, Pierre found in
+one of them, in the lists of killed, wounded, and rewarded, the name of
+Nicholas Rostov, awarded a St. George's Cross of the Fourth Class for
+courage shown in the Ostrovna affair, and in the same order the name of
+Prince Andrew Bolkonski, appointed to the command of a regiment of
+Chasseurs. Though he did not want to remind the Rostovs of Bolkonski,
+Pierre could not refrain from making them happy by the news of their
+son's having received a decoration, so he sent that printed army order
+and Nicholas' letter to the Rostovs, keeping the appeal, the bulletin,
+and the other orders to take with him when he went to dinner.
+
+His conversation with Count Rostopchin and the latter's tone of anxious
+hurry, the meeting with the courier who talked casually of how badly
+things were going in the army, the rumors of the discovery of spies in
+Moscow and of a leaflet in circulation stating that Napoleon promised to
+be in both the Russian capitals by the autumn, and the talk of the
+Emperor's being expected to arrive next day--all aroused with fresh
+force that feeling of agitation and expectation in Pierre which he had
+been conscious of ever since the appearance of the comet, and especially
+since the beginning of the war.
+
+He had long been thinking of entering the army and would have done so
+had he not been hindered, first, by his membership of the Society of
+Freemasons to which he was bound by oath and which preached perpetual
+peace and the abolition of war, and secondly, by the fact that when he
+saw the great mass of Muscovites who had donned uniform and were talking
+patriotism, he somehow felt ashamed to take the step. But the chief
+reason for not carrying out his intention to enter the army lay in the
+vague idea that he was L'russe Besuhof who had the number of the beast,
+666; that his part in the great affair of setting a limit to the power
+of the beast that spoke great and blasphemous things had been
+predestined from eternity, and that therefore he ought not to undertake
+anything, but wait for what was bound to come to pass.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+A few intimate friends were dining with the Rostovs that day, as usual
+on Sundays.
+
+Pierre came early so as to find them alone.
+
+He had grown so stout this year that he would have been abnormal had he
+not been so tall, so broad of limb, and so strong that he carried his
+bulk with evident ease.
+
+He went up the stairs, puffing and muttering something. His coachman did
+not even ask whether he was to wait. He knew that when his master was at
+the Rostovs' he stayed till midnight. The Rostovs' footman rushed
+eagerly forward to help him off with his cloak and take his hat and
+stick. Pierre, from club habit, always left both hat and stick in the
+anteroom.
+
+The first person he saw in the house was Natasha. Even before he saw
+her, while taking off his cloak, he heard her. She was practicing solfa
+exercises in the music room. He knew that she had not sung since her
+illness, and so the sound of her voice surprised and delighted him. He
+opened the door softly and saw her, in the lilac dress she had worn at
+church, walking about the room singing. She had her back to him when he
+opened the door, but when, turning quickly, she saw his broad, surprised
+face, she blushed and came rapidly up to him.
+
+"I want to try to sing again," she said, adding as if by way of excuse,
+"it is, at least, something to do."
+
+"That's capital!"
+
+"How glad I am you've come! I am so happy today," she said, with the old
+animation Pierre had not seen in her for a long time. "You know Nicholas
+has received a St. George's Cross? I am so proud of him."
+
+"Oh yes, I sent that announcement. But I don't want to interrupt you,"
+he added, and was about to go to the drawing room.
+
+Natasha stopped him.
+
+"Count, is it wrong of me to sing?" she said blushing, and fixing her
+eyes inquiringly on him.
+
+"No... Why should it be? On the contrary... But why do you ask me?"
+
+"I don't know myself," Natasha answered quickly, "but I should not like
+to do anything you disapproved of. I believe in you completely. You
+don't know how important you are to me, how much you've done for me...."
+She spoke rapidly and did not notice how Pierre flushed at her words. "I
+saw in that same army order that he, Bolkonski" (she whispered the name
+hastily), "is in Russia, and in the army again. What do you think?"--she
+was speaking hurriedly, evidently afraid her strength might fail her--
+"Will he ever forgive me? Will he not always have a bitter feeling
+toward me? What do you think? What do you think?"
+
+"I think..." Pierre replied, "that he has nothing to forgive.... If I
+were in his place..."
+
+By association of ideas, Pierre was at once carried back to the day
+when, trying to comfort her, he had said that if he were not himself but
+the best man in the world and free, he would ask on his knees for her
+hand; and the same feeling of pity, tenderness, and love took possession
+of him and the same words rose to his lips. But she did not give him
+time to say them.
+
+"Yes, you... you..." she said, uttering the word you rapturously--
+"that's a different thing. I know no one kinder, more generous, or
+better than you; nobody could be! Had you not been there then, and now
+too, I don't know what would have become of me, because..."
+
+Tears suddenly rose in her eyes, she turned away, lifted her music
+before her eyes, began singing again, and again began walking up and
+down the room.
+
+Just then Petya came running in from the drawing room.
+
+Petya was now a handsome rosy lad of fifteen with full red lips and
+resembled Natasha. He was preparing to enter the university, but he and
+his friend Obolenski had lately, in secret, agreed to join the hussars.
+
+Petya had come rushing out to talk to his namesake about this affair. He
+had asked Pierre to find out whether he would be accepted in the
+hussars.
+
+Pierre walked up and down the drawing room, not listening to what Petya
+was saying.
+
+Petya pulled him by the arm to attract his attention.
+
+"Well, what about my plan? Peter Kirilych, for heaven's sake! You are my
+only hope," said Petya.
+
+"Oh yes, your plan. To join the hussars? I'll mention it, I'll bring it
+all up today."
+
+"Well, mon cher, have you got the manifesto?" asked the old count. "The
+countess has been to Mass at the Razumovskis' and heard the new prayer.
+She says it's very fine."
+
+"Yes, I've got it," said Pierre. "The Emperor is to be here tomorrow...
+there's to be an Extraordinary Meeting of the nobility, and they are
+talking of a levy of ten men per thousand. Oh yes, let me congratulate
+you!"
+
+"Yes, yes, thank God! Well, and what news from the army?"
+
+"We are again retreating. They say we're already near Smolensk," replied
+Pierre.
+
+"O Lord, O Lord!" exclaimed the count. "Where is the manifesto?"
+
+"The Emperor's appeal? Oh yes!"
+
+Pierre began feeling in his pockets for the papers, but could not find
+them. Still slapping his pockets, he kissed the hand of the countess who
+entered the room and glanced uneasily around, evidently expecting
+Natasha, who had left off singing but had not yet come into the drawing
+room.
+
+"On my word, I don't know what I've done with it," he said.
+
+"There he is, always losing everything!" remarked the countess.
+
+Natasha entered with a softened and agitated expression of face and sat
+down looking silently at Pierre. As soon as she entered, Pierre's
+features, which had been gloomy, suddenly lighted up, and while still
+searching for the papers he glanced at her several times.
+
+"No, really! I'll drive home, I must have left them there. I'll
+certainly..."
+
+"But you'll be late for dinner."
+
+"Oh! And my coachman has gone."
+
+But Sonya, who had gone to look for the papers in the anteroom, had
+found them in Pierre's hat, where he had carefully tucked them under the
+lining. Pierre was about to begin reading.
+
+"No, after dinner," said the old count, evidently expecting much
+enjoyment from that reading.
+
+At dinner, at which champagne was drunk to the health of the new
+chevalier of St. George, Shinshin told them the town news, of the
+illness of the old Georgian princess, of Metivier's disappearance from
+Moscow, and of how some German fellow had been brought to Rostopchin and
+accused of being a French "spyer" (so Count Rostopchin had told the
+story), and how Rostopchin let him go and assured the people that he was
+"not a spire at all, but only an old German ruin."
+
+"People are being arrested..." said the count. "I've told the countess
+she should not speak French so much. It's not the time for it now."
+
+"And have you heard?" Shinshin asked. "Prince Golitsyn has engaged a
+master to teach him Russian. It is becoming dangerous to speak French in
+the streets."
+
+"And how about you, Count Peter Kirilych? If they call up the militia,
+you too will have to mount a horse," remarked the old count, addressing
+Pierre.
+
+Pierre had been silent and preoccupied all through dinner, seeming not
+to grasp what was said. He looked at the count.
+
+"Oh yes, the war," he said. "No! What sort of warrior should I make? And
+yet everything is so strange, so strange! I can't make it out. I don't
+know, I am very far from having military tastes, but in these times no
+one can answer for himself."
+
+After dinner the count settled himself comfortably in an easy chair and
+with a serious face asked Sonya, who was considered an excellent reader,
+to read the appeal.
+
+"To Moscow, our ancient Capital!
+
+"The enemy has entered the borders of Russia with immense forces. He
+comes to despoil our beloved country."
+
+Sonya read painstakingly in her high-pitched voice. The count listened
+with closed eyes, heaving abrupt sighs at certain passages.
+
+Natasha sat erect, gazing with a searching look now at her father and
+now at Pierre.
+
+Pierre felt her eyes on him and tried not to look round. The countess
+shook her head disapprovingly and angrily at every solemn expression in
+the manifesto. In all these words she saw only that the danger
+threatening her son would not soon be over. Shinshin, with a sarcastic
+smile on his lips, was evidently preparing to make fun of anything that
+gave him the opportunity: Sonya's reading, any remark of the count's, or
+even the manifesto itself should no better pretext present itself.
+
+After reading about the dangers that threatened Russia, the hopes the
+Emperor placed on Moscow and especially on its illustrious nobility,
+Sonya, with a quiver in her voice due chiefly to the attention that was
+being paid to her, read the last words:
+
+"We ourselves will not delay to appear among our people in that Capital
+and in other parts of our realm for consultation, and for the direction
+of all our levies, both those now barring the enemy's path and those
+freshly formed to defeat him wherever he may appear. May the ruin he
+hopes to bring upon us recoil on his own head, and may Europe delivered
+from bondage glorify the name of Russia!"
+
+"Yes, that's it!" cried the count, opening his moist eyes and sniffing
+repeatedly, as if a strong vinaigrette had been held to his nose; and he
+added, "Let the Emperor but say the word and we'll sacrifice everything
+and begrudge nothing."
+
+Before Shinshin had time to utter the joke he was ready to make on the
+count's patriotism, Natasha jumped up from her place and ran to her
+father.
+
+"What a darling our Papa is!" she cried, kissing him, and she again
+looked at Pierre with the unconscious coquetry that had returned to her
+with her better spirits.
+
+"There! Here's a patriot for you!" said Shinshin.
+
+"Not a patriot at all, but simply..." Natasha replied in an injured
+tone. "Everything seems funny to you, but this isn't at all a joke...."
+
+"A joke indeed!" put in the count. "Let him but say the word and we'll
+all go.... We're not Germans!"
+
+"But did you notice, it says, 'for consultation'?" said Pierre.
+
+"Never mind what it's for...."
+
+At this moment, Petya, to whom nobody was paying any attention, came up
+to his father with a very flushed face and said in his breaking voice
+that was now deep and now shrill:
+
+"Well, Papa, I tell you definitely, and Mamma too, it's as you please,
+but I say definitely that you must let me enter the army, because I
+can't... that's all...."
+
+The countess, in dismay, looked up to heaven, clasped her hands, and
+turned angrily to her husband.
+
+"That comes of your talking!" said she.
+
+But the count had already recovered from his excitement.
+
+"Come, come!" said he. "Here's a fine warrior! No! Nonsense! You must
+study."
+
+"It's not nonsense, Papa. Fedya Obolenski is younger than I, and he's
+going too. Besides, all the same I can't study now when..." Petya
+stopped short, flushed till he perspired, but still got out the words,
+"when our Fatherland is in danger."
+
+"That'll do, that'll do--nonsense...."
+
+"But you said yourself that we would sacrifice everything."
+
+"Petya! Be quiet, I tell you!" cried the count, with a glance at his
+wife, who had turned pale and was staring fixedly at her son.
+
+"And I tell you--Peter Kirilych here will also tell you..."
+
+"Nonsense, I tell you. Your mother's milk has hardly dried on your lips
+and you want to go into the army! There, there, I tell you," and the
+count moved to go out of the room, taking the papers, probably to reread
+them in his study before having a nap.
+
+"Well, Peter Kirilych, let's go and have a smoke," he said.
+
+Pierre was agitated and undecided. Natasha's unwontedly brilliant eyes,
+continually glancing at him with a more than cordial look, had reduced
+him to this condition.
+
+"No, I think I'll go home."
+
+"Home? Why, you meant to spend the evening with us.... You don't often
+come nowadays as it is, and this girl of mine," said the count good-
+naturedly, pointing to Natasha, "only brightens up when you're here."
+
+"Yes, I had forgotten... I really must go home... business..." said
+Pierre hurriedly.
+
+"Well, then, au revoir!" said the count, and went out of the room.
+
+"Why are you going? Why are you upset?" asked Natasha, and she looked
+challengingly into Pierre's eyes.
+
+"Because I love you!" was what he wanted to say, but he did not say it,
+and only blushed till the tears came, and lowered his eyes.
+
+"Because it is better for me to come less often... because... No, simply
+I have business...."
+
+"Why? No, tell me!" Natasha began resolutely and suddenly stopped.
+
+They looked at each other with dismayed and embarrassed faces. He tried
+to smile but could not: his smile expressed suffering, and he silently
+kissed her hand and went out.
+
+Pierre made up his mind not to go to the Rostovs' any more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+After the definite refusal he had received, Petya went to his room and
+there locked himself in and wept bitterly. When he came in to tea,
+silent, morose, and with tear-stained face, everybody pretended not to
+notice anything.
+
+Next day the Emperor arrived in Moscow, and several of the Rostovs'
+domestic serfs begged permission to go to have a look at him. That
+morning Petya was a long time dressing and arranging his hair and collar
+to look like a grown-up man. He frowned before his looking glass,
+gesticulated, shrugged his shoulders, and finally, without saying a word
+to anyone, took his cap and left the house by the back door, trying to
+avoid notice. Petya decided to go straight to where the Emperor was and
+to explain frankly to some gentleman-in-waiting (he imagined the Emperor
+to be always surrounded by gentlemen-in-waiting) that he, Count Rostov,
+in spite of his youth wished to serve his country; that youth could be
+no hindrance to loyalty, and that he was ready to... While dressing,
+Petya had prepared many fine things he meant to say to the gentleman-in-
+waiting.
+
+It was on the very fact of being so young that Petya counted for success
+in reaching the Emperor--he even thought how surprised everyone would be
+at his youthfulness--and yet in the arrangement of his collar and hair
+and by his sedate deliberate walk he wished to appear a grown-up man.
+But the farther he went and the more his attention was diverted by the
+ever-increasing crowds moving toward the Kremlin, the less he remembered
+to walk with the sedateness and deliberation of a man. As he approached
+the Kremlin he even began to avoid being crushed and resolutely stuck
+out his elbows in a menacing way. But within the Trinity Gateway he was
+so pressed to the wall by people who probably were unaware of the
+patriotic intentions with which he had come that in spite of all his
+determination he had to give in, and stop while carriages passed in,
+rumbling beneath the archway. Beside Petya stood a peasant woman, a
+footman, two tradesmen, and a discharged soldier. After standing some
+time in the gateway, Petya tried to move forward in front of the others
+without waiting for all the carriages to pass, and he began resolutely
+working his way with his elbows, but the woman just in front of him, who
+was the first against whom he directed his efforts, angrily shouted at
+him:
+
+"What are you shoving for, young lordling? Don't you see we're all
+standing still? Then why push?"
+
+"Anybody can shove," said the footman, and also began working his elbows
+to such effect that he pushed Petya into a very filthy corner of the
+gateway.
+
+Petya wiped his perspiring face with his hands and pulled up the damp
+collar which he had arranged so well at home to seem like a man's.
+
+He felt that he no longer looked presentable, and feared that if he were
+now to approach the gentlemen-in-waiting in that plight he would not be
+admitted to the Emperor. But it was impossible to smarten oneself up or
+move to another place, because of the crowd. One of the generals who
+drove past was an acquaintance of the Rostovs', and Petya thought of
+asking his help, but came to the conclusion that that would not be a
+manly thing to do. When the carriages had all passed in, the crowd,
+carrying Petya with it, streamed forward into the Kremlin Square which
+was already full of people. There were people not only in the square,
+but everywhere--on the slopes and on the roofs. As soon as Petya found
+himself in the square he clearly heard the sound of bells and the joyous
+voices of the crowd that filled the whole Kremlin.
+
+For a while the crowd was less dense, but suddenly all heads were bared,
+and everyone rushed forward in one direction. Petya was being pressed so
+that he could scarcely breathe, and everybody shouted, "Hurrah! hurrah!
+hurrah!" Petya stood on tiptoe and pushed and pinched, but could see
+nothing except the people about him.
+
+All the faces bore the same expression of excitement and enthusiasm. A
+tradesman's wife standing beside Petya sobbed, and the tears ran down
+her cheeks.
+
+"Father! Angel! Dear one!" she kept repeating, wiping away her tears
+with her fingers.
+
+"Hurrah!" was heard on all sides.
+
+For a moment the crowd stood still, but then it made another rush
+forward.
+
+Quite beside himself, Petya, clinching his teeth and rolling his eyes
+ferociously, pushed forward, elbowing his way and shouting "hurrah!" as
+if he were prepared that instant to kill himself and everyone else, but
+on both sides of him other people with similarly ferocious faces pushed
+forward and everybody shouted "hurrah!"
+
+"So this is what the Emperor is!" thought Petya. "No, I can't petition
+him myself--that would be too bold." But in spite of this he continued
+to struggle desperately forward, and from between the backs of those in
+front he caught glimpses of an open space with a strip of red cloth
+spread out on it; but just then the crowd swayed back--the police in
+front were pushing back those who had pressed too close to the
+procession: the Emperor was passing from the palace to the Cathedral of
+the Assumption--and Petya unexpectedly received such a blow on his side
+and ribs and was squeezed so hard that suddenly everything grew dim
+before his eyes and he lost consciousness. When he came to himself, a
+man of clerical appearance with a tuft of gray hair at the back of his
+head and wearing a shabby blue cassock--probably a church clerk and
+chanter--was holding him under the arm with one hand while warding off
+the pressure of the crowd with the other.
+
+"You've crushed the young gentleman!" said the clerk. "What are you up
+to? Gently!... They've crushed him, crushed him!"
+
+The Emperor entered the Cathedral of the Assumption. The crowd spread
+out again more evenly, and the clerk led Petya--pale and breathless--to
+the Tsar-cannon. Several people were sorry for Petya, and suddenly a
+crowd turned toward him and pressed round him. Those who stood nearest
+him attended to him, unbuttoned his coat, seated him on the raised
+platform of the cannon, and reproached those others (whoever they might
+be) who had crushed him.
+
+"One might easily get killed that way! What do they mean by it? Killing
+people! Poor dear, he's as white as a sheet!"--various voices were heard
+saying.
+
+Petya soon came to himself, the color returned to his face, the pain had
+passed, and at the cost of that temporary unpleasantness he had obtained
+a place by the cannon from where he hoped to see the Emperor who would
+be returning that way. Petya no longer thought of presenting his
+petition. If he could only see the Emperor he would be happy!
+
+While the service was proceeding in the Cathedral of the Assumption--it
+was a combined service of prayer on the occasion of the Emperor's
+arrival and of thanksgiving for the conclusion of peace with the Turks--
+the crowd outside spread out and hawkers appeared, selling kvas,
+gingerbread, and poppyseed sweets (of which Petya was particularly
+fond), and ordinary conversation could again be heard. A tradesman's
+wife was showing a rent in her shawl and telling how much the shawl had
+cost; another was saying that all silk goods had now got dear. The clerk
+who had rescued Petya was talking to a functionary about the priests who
+were officiating that day with the bishop. The clerk several times used
+the word "plenary" (of the service), a word Petya did not understand.
+Two young citizens were joking with some serf girls who were cracking
+nuts. All these conversations, especially the joking with the girls,
+were such as might have had a particular charm for Petya at his age, but
+they did not interest him now. He sat on his elevation--the pedestal of
+the cannon--still agitated as before by the thought of the Emperor and
+by his love for him. The feeling of pain and fear he had experienced
+when he was being crushed, together with that of rapture, still further
+intensified his sense of the importance of the occasion.
+
+Suddenly the sound of a firing of cannon was heard from the embankment,
+to celebrate the signing of peace with the Turks, and the crowd rushed
+impetuously toward the embankment to watch the firing. Petya too would
+have run there, but the clerk who had taken the young gentleman under
+his protection stopped him. The firing was still proceeding when
+officers, generals, and gentlemen-in-waiting came running out of the
+cathedral, and after them others in a more leisurely manner: caps were
+again raised, and those who had run to look at the cannon ran back
+again. At last four men in uniforms and sashes emerged from the
+cathedral doors. "Hurrah! hurrah!" shouted the crowd again.
+
+"Which is he? Which?" asked Petya in a tearful voice, of those around
+him, but no one answered him, everybody was too excited; and Petya,
+fixing on one of those four men, whom he could not clearly see for the
+tears of joy that filled his eyes, concentrated all his enthusiasm on
+him--though it happened not to be the Emperor--frantically shouted
+"Hurrah!" and resolved that tomorrow, come what might, he would join the
+army.
+
+The crowd ran after the Emperor, followed him to the palace, and began
+to disperse. It was already late, and Petya had not eaten anything and
+was drenched with perspiration, yet he did not go home but stood with
+that diminishing, but still considerable, crowd before the palace while
+the Emperor dined--looking in at the palace windows, expecting he knew
+not what, and envying alike the notables he saw arriving at the entrance
+to dine with the Emperor and the court footmen who served at table,
+glimpses of whom could be seen through the windows.
+
+While the Emperor was dining, Valuev, looking out of the window, said:
+
+"The people are still hoping to see Your Majesty again."
+
+The dinner was nearly over, and the Emperor, munching a biscuit, rose
+and went out onto the balcony. The people, with Petya among them, rushed
+toward the balcony.
+
+"Angel! Dear one! Hurrah! Father!..." cried the crowd, and Petya with
+it, and again the women and men of weaker mold, Petya among them, wept
+with joy.
+
+A largish piece of the biscuit the Emperor was holding in his hand broke
+off, fell on the balcony parapet, and then to the ground. A coachman in
+a jerkin, who stood nearest, sprang forward and snatched it up. Several
+people in the crowd rushed at the coachman. Seeing this the Emperor had
+a plateful of biscuits brought him and began throwing them down from the
+balcony. Petya's eyes grew bloodshot, and still more excited by the
+danger of being crushed, he rushed at the biscuits. He did not know why,
+but he had to have a biscuit from the Tsar's hand and he felt that he
+must not give way. He sprang forward and upset an old woman who was
+catching at a biscuit; the old woman did not consider herself defeated
+though she was lying on the ground--she grabbed at some biscuits but her
+hand did not reach them. Petya pushed her hand away with his knee,
+seized a biscuit, and as if fearing to be too late, again shouted
+"Hurrah!" with a voice already hoarse.
+
+The Emperor went in, and after that the greater part of the crowd began
+to disperse.
+
+"There! I said if only we waited--and so it was!" was being joyfully
+said by various people.
+
+Happy as Petya was, he felt sad at having to go home knowing that all
+the enjoyment of that day was over. He did not go straight home from the
+Kremlin, but called on his friend Obolenski, who was fifteen and was
+also entering the regiment. On returning home Petya announced resolutely
+and firmly that if he was not allowed to enter the service he would run
+away. And next day, Count Ilya Rostov--though he had not yet quite
+yielded--went to inquire how he could arrange for Petya to serve where
+there would be least danger.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+Two days later, on the fifteenth of July, an immense number of carriages
+were standing outside the Sloboda Palace.
+
+The great halls were full. In the first were the nobility and gentry in
+their uniforms, in the second bearded merchants in full-skirted coats of
+blue cloth and wearing medals. In the noblemen's hall there was an
+incessant movement and buzz of voices. The chief magnates sat on high-
+backed chairs at a large table under the portrait of the Emperor, but
+most of the gentry were strolling about the room.
+
+All these nobles, whom Pierre met every day at the club or in their own
+houses, were in uniform--some in that of Catherine's day, others in that
+of Emperor Paul, others again in the new uniforms of Alexander's time or
+the ordinary uniform of the nobility, and the general characteristic of
+being in uniform imparted something strange and fantastic to these
+diverse and familiar personalities, both old and young. The old men,
+dim-eyed, toothless, bald, sallow, and bloated, or gaunt and wrinkled,
+were especially striking. For the most part they sat quietly in their
+places and were silent, or, if they walked about and talked, attached
+themselves to someone younger. On all these faces, as on the faces of
+the crowd Petya had seen in the Square, there was a striking
+contradiction: the general expectation of a solemn event, and at the
+same time the everyday interests in a boston card party, Peter the cook,
+Zinaida Dmitrievna's health, and so on.
+
+Pierre was there too, buttoned up since early morning in a nobleman's
+uniform that had become too tight for him. He was agitated; this
+extraordinary gathering not only of nobles but also of the merchant-
+class--les etats generaux (States-General)--evoked in him a whole series
+of ideas he had long laid aside but which were deeply graven in his
+soul: thoughts of the Contrat Social and the French Revolution. The
+words that had struck him in the Emperor's appeal--that the sovereign
+was coming to the capital for consultation with his people--strengthened
+this idea. And imagining that in this direction something important
+which he had long awaited was drawing near, he strolled about watching
+and listening to conversations, but nowhere finding any confirmation of
+the ideas that occupied him.
+
+The Emperor's manifesto was read, evoking enthusiasm, and then all moved
+about discussing it. Besides the ordinary topics of conversation, Pierre
+heard questions of where the marshals of the nobility were to stand when
+the Emperor entered, when a ball should be given in the Emperor's honor,
+whether they should group themselves by districts or by whole
+provinces... and so on; but as soon as the war was touched on, or what
+the nobility had been convened for, the talk became undecided and
+indefinite. Then all preferred listening to speaking.
+
+A middle-aged man, handsome and virile, in the uniform of a retired
+naval officer, was speaking in one of the rooms, and a small crowd was
+pressing round him. Pierre went up to the circle that had formed round
+the speaker and listened. Count Ilya Rostov, in a military uniform of
+Catherine's time, was sauntering with a pleasant smile among the crowd,
+with all of whom he was acquainted. He too approached that group and
+listened with a kindly smile and nods of approval, as he always did, to
+what the speaker was saying. The retired naval man was speaking very
+boldly, as was evident from the expression on the faces of the listeners
+and from the fact that some people Pierre knew as the meekest and
+quietest of men walked away disapprovingly or expressed disagreement
+with him. Pierre pushed his way into the middle of the group, listened,
+and convinced himself that the man was indeed a liberal, but of views
+quite different from his own. The naval officer spoke in a particularly
+sonorous, musical, and aristocratic baritone voice, pleasantly
+swallowing his r's and generally slurring his consonants: the voice of a
+man calling out to his servant, "Heah! Bwing me my pipe!" It was
+indicative of dissipation and the exercise of authority.
+
+"What if the Smolensk people have offahd to waise militia for the
+Empewah? Ah we to take Smolensk as our patte'n? If the noble awistocwacy
+of the pwovince of Moscow thinks fit, it can show its loyalty to our
+sov'weign the Empewah in other ways. Have we fo'gotten the waising of
+the militia in the yeah 'seven? All that did was to enwich the pwiests'
+sons and thieves and wobbahs...."
+
+Count Ilya Rostov smiled blandly and nodded approval.
+
+"And was our militia of any use to the Empia? Not at all! It only wuined
+our farming! Bettah have another conscwiption... o' ou' men will wetu'n
+neithah soldiers no' peasants, and we'll get only depwavity fwom them.
+The nobility don't gwudge theah lives--evewy one of us will go and bwing
+in more wecwuits, and the sov'weign" (that was the way he referred to
+the Emperor) "need only say the word and we'll all die fo' him!" added
+the orator with animation.
+
+Count Rostov's mouth watered with pleasure and he nudged Pierre, but
+Pierre wanted to speak himself. He pushed forward, feeling stirred, but
+not yet sure what stirred him or what he would say. Scarcely had he
+opened his mouth when one of the senators, a man without a tooth in his
+head, with a shrewd though angry expression, standing near the first
+speaker, interrupted him. Evidently accustomed to managing debates and
+to maintaining an argument, he began in low but distinct tones:
+
+"I imagine, sir," said he, mumbling with his toothless mouth, "that we
+have been summoned here not to discuss whether it's best for the empire
+at the present moment to adopt conscription or to call out the militia.
+We have been summoned to reply to the appeal with which our sovereign
+the Emperor has honored us. But to judge what is best--conscription or
+the militia--we can leave to the supreme authority...."
+
+Pierre suddenly saw an outlet for his excitement. He hardened his heart
+against the senator who was introducing this set and narrow attitude
+into the deliberations of the nobility. Pierre stepped forward and
+interrupted him. He himself did not yet know what he would say, but he
+began to speak eagerly, occasionally lapsing into French or expressing
+himself in bookish Russian.
+
+"Excuse me, your excellency," he began. (He was well acquainted with the
+senator, but thought it necessary on this occasion to address him
+formally.) "Though I don't agree with the gentleman..." (he hesitated:
+he wished to say, "Mon tres honorable preopinant"--"My very honorable
+opponent") "with the gentleman... whom I have not the honor of knowing,
+I suppose that the nobility have been summoned not merely to express
+their sympathy and enthusiasm but also to consider the means by which we
+can assist our Fatherland! I imagine," he went on, warming to his
+subject, "that the Emperor himself would not be satisfied to find in us
+merely owners of serfs whom we are willing to devote to his service, and
+chair a canon * we are ready to make of ourselves--and not to obtain
+from us any co-co-counsel."
+
+
+* "Food for cannon."
+
+Many persons withdrew from the circle, noticing the senator's sarcastic
+smile and the freedom of Pierre's remarks. Only Count Rostov was pleased
+with them as he had been pleased with those of the naval officer, the
+senator, and in general with whatever speech he had last heard.
+
+"I think that before discussing these questions," Pierre continued, "we
+should ask the Emperor--most respectfully ask His Majesty--to let us
+know the number of our troops and the position in which our army and our
+forces now are, and then..."
+
+But scarcely had Pierre uttered these words before he was attacked from
+three sides. The most vigorous attack came from an old acquaintance, a
+boston player who had always been well disposed toward him, Stepan
+Stepanovich Adraksin. Adraksin was in uniform, and whether as a result
+of the uniform or from some other cause Pierre saw before him quite a
+different man. With a sudden expression of malevolence on his aged face,
+Adraksin shouted at Pierre:
+
+"In the first place, I tell you we have no right to question the Emperor
+about that, and secondly, if the Russian nobility had that right, the
+Emperor could not answer such a question. The troops are moved according
+to the enemy's movements and the number of men increases and
+decreases..."
+
+Another voice, that of a nobleman of medium height and about forty years
+of age, whom Pierre had formerly met at the gypsies' and knew as a bad
+cardplayer, and who, also transformed by his uniform, came up to Pierre,
+interrupted Adraksin.
+
+"Yes, and this is not a time for discussing," he continued, "but for
+acting: there is war in Russia! The enemy is advancing to destroy
+Russia, to desecrate the tombs of our fathers, to carry off our wives
+and children." The nobleman smote his breast. "We will all arise, every
+one of us will go, for our father the Tsar!" he shouted, rolling his
+bloodshot eyes. Several approving voices were heard in the crowd. "We
+are Russians and will not grudge our blood in defense of our faith, the
+throne, and the Fatherland! We must cease raving if we are sons of our
+Fatherland! We will show Europe how Russia rises to the defense of
+Russia!"
+
+Pierre wished to reply, but could not get in a word. He felt that his
+words, apart from what meaning they conveyed, were less audible than the
+sound of his opponent's voice.
+
+Count Rostov at the back of the crowd was expressing approval; several
+persons, briskly turning a shoulder to the orator at the end of a
+phrase, said:
+
+"That's right, quite right! Just so!"
+
+Pierre wished to say that he was ready to sacrifice his money, his
+serfs, or himself, only one ought to know the state of affairs in order
+to be able to improve it, but he was unable to speak. Many voices
+shouted and talked at the same time, so that Count Rostov had not time
+to signify his approval of them all, and the group increased, dispersed,
+re-formed, and then moved with a hum of talk into the largest hall and
+to the big table. Not only was Pierre's attempt to speak unsuccessful,
+but he was rudely interrupted, pushed aside, and people turned away from
+him as from a common enemy. This happened not because they were
+displeased by the substance of his speech, which had even been forgotten
+after the many subsequent speeches, but to animate it the crowd needed a
+tangible object to love and a tangible object to hate. Pierre became the
+latter. Many other orators spoke after the excited nobleman, and all in
+the same tone. Many spoke eloquently and with originality.
+
+Glinka, the editor of the Russian Messenger, who was recognized (cries
+of "author! author!" were heard in the crowd), said that "hell must be
+repulsed by hell," and that he had seen a child smiling at lightning
+flashes and thunderclaps, but "we will not be that child."
+
+"Yes, yes, at thunderclaps!" was repeated approvingly in the back rows
+of the crowd.
+
+The crowd drew up to the large table, at which sat gray-haired or bald
+seventy-year-old magnates, uniformed and besashed almost all of whom
+Pierre had seen in their own homes with their buffoons, or playing
+boston at the clubs. With an incessant hum of voices the crowd advanced
+to the table. Pressed by the throng against the high backs of the
+chairs, the orators spoke one after another and sometimes two together.
+Those standing behind noticed what a speaker omitted to say and hastened
+to supply it. Others in that heat and crush racked their brains to find
+some thought and hastened to utter it. The old magnates, whom Pierre
+knew, sat and turned to look first at one and then at another, and their
+faces for the most part only expressed the fact that they found it very
+hot. Pierre, however, felt excited, and the general desire to show that
+they were ready to go to all lengths--which found expression in the
+tones and looks more than in the substance of the speeches--infected him
+too. He did not renounce his opinions, but felt himself in some way to
+blame and wished to justify himself.
+
+"I only said that it would be more to the purpose to make sacrifices
+when we know what is needed!" said he, trying to be heard above the
+other voices.
+
+One of the old men nearest to him looked round, but his attention was
+immediately diverted by an exclamation at the other side of the table.
+
+"Yes, Moscow will be surrendered! She will be our expiation!" shouted
+one man.
+
+"He is the enemy of mankind!" cried another. "Allow me to speak...."
+"Gentlemen, you are crushing me!..."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+At that moment Count Rostopchin with his protruding chin and alert eyes,
+wearing the uniform of a general with sash over his shoulder, entered
+the room, stepping briskly to the front of the crowd of gentry.
+
+"Our sovereign the Emperor will be here in a moment," said Rostopchin.
+"I am straight from the palace. Seeing the position we are in, I think
+there is little need for discussion. The Emperor has deigned to summon
+us and the merchants. Millions will pour forth from there"--he pointed
+to the merchants' hall--"but our business is to supply men and not spare
+ourselves... That is the least we can do!"
+
+A conference took place confined to the magnates sitting at the table.
+The whole consultation passed more than quietly. After all the preceding
+noise the sound of their old voices saying one after another, "I agree,"
+or for variety, "I too am of that opinion," and so on had even a
+mournful effect.
+
+The secretary was told to write down the resolution of the Moscow
+nobility and gentry, that they would furnish ten men, fully equipped,
+out of every thousand serfs, as the Smolensk gentry had done. Their
+chairs made a scraping noise as the gentlemen who had conferred rose
+with apparent relief, and began walking up and down, arm in arm, to
+stretch their legs and converse in couples.
+
+"The Emperor! The Emperor!" a sudden cry resounded through the halls and
+the whole throng hurried to the entrance.
+
+The Emperor entered the hall through a broad path between two lines of
+nobles. Every face expressed respectful, awe-struck curiosity. Pierre
+stood rather far off and could not hear all that the Emperor said. From
+what he did hear he understood that the Emperor spoke of the danger
+threatening the empire and of the hopes he placed on the Moscow
+nobility. He was answered by a voice which informed him of the
+resolution just arrived at.
+
+"Gentlemen!" said the Emperor with a quivering voice.
+
+There was a rustling among the crowd and it again subsided, so that
+Pierre distinctly heard the pleasantly human voice of the Emperor saying
+with emotion:
+
+"I never doubted the devotion of the Russian nobles, but today it has
+surpassed my expectations. I thank you in the name of the Fatherland!
+Gentlemen, let us act! Time is most precious..."
+
+The Emperor ceased speaking, the crowd began pressing round him, and
+rapturous exclamations were heard from all sides.
+
+"Yes, most precious... a royal word," said Count Rostov, with a sob. He
+stood at the back, and, though he had heard hardly anything, understood
+everything in his own way.
+
+From the hall of the nobility the Emperor went to that of the merchants.
+There he remained about ten minutes. Pierre was among those who saw him
+come out from the merchants' hall with tears of emotion in his eyes. As
+became known later, he had scarcely begun to address the merchants
+before tears gushed from his eyes and he concluded in a trembling voice.
+When Pierre saw the Emperor he was coming out accompanied by two
+merchants, one of whom Pierre knew, a fat otkupshchik. The other was the
+mayor, a man with a thin sallow face and narrow beard. Both were
+weeping. Tears filled the thin man's eyes, and the fat otkupshchik
+sobbed outright like a child and kept repeating:
+
+"Our lives and property--take them, Your Majesty!"
+
+Pierre's one feeling at the moment was a desire to show that he was
+ready to go all lengths and was prepared to sacrifice everything. He now
+felt ashamed of his speech with its constitutional tendency and sought
+an opportunity of effacing it. Having heard that Count Mamonov was
+furnishing a regiment, Bezukhov at once informed Rostopchin that he
+would give a thousand men and their maintenance.
+
+Old Rostov could not tell his wife of what had passed without tears, and
+at once consented to Petya's request and went himself to enter his name.
+
+Next day the Emperor left Moscow. The assembled nobles all took off
+their uniforms and settled down again in their homes and clubs, and not
+without some groans gave orders to their stewards about the enrollment,
+feeling amazed themselves at what they had done.
+
+BOOK TEN: 1812
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+Napoleon began the war with Russia because he could not resist going to
+Dresden, could not help having his head turned by the homage he
+received, could not help donning a Polish uniform and yielding to the
+stimulating influence of a June morning, and could not refrain from
+bursts of anger in the presence of Kurakin and then of Balashev.
+
+Alexander refused negotiations because he felt himself to be personally
+insulted. Barclay de Tolly tried to command the army in the best way,
+because he wished to fulfill his duty and earn fame as a great
+commander. Rostov charged the French because he could not restrain his
+wish for a gallop across a level field; and in the same way the
+innumerable people who took part in the war acted in accord with their
+personal characteristics, habits, circumstances, and aims. They were
+moved by fear or vanity, rejoiced or were indignant, reasoned, imagining
+that they knew what they were doing and did it of their own free will,
+but they all were involuntary tools of history, carrying on a work
+concealed from them but comprehensible to us. Such is the inevitable
+fate of men of action, and the higher they stand in the social hierarchy
+the less are they free.
+
+The actors of 1812 have long since left the stage, their personal
+interests have vanished leaving no trace, and nothing remains of that
+time but its historic results.
+
+Providence compelled all these men, striving to attain personal aims, to
+further the accomplishment of a stupendous result no one of them at all
+expected--neither Napoleon, nor Alexander, nor still less any of those
+who did the actual fighting.
+
+The cause of the destruction of the French army in 1812 is clear to us
+now. No one will deny that that cause was, on the one hand, its advance
+into the heart of Russia late in the season without any preparation for
+a winter campaign and, on the other, the character given to the war by
+the burning of Russian towns and the hatred of the foe this aroused
+among the Russian people. But no one at the time foresaw (what now seems
+so evident) that this was the only way an army of eight hundred thousand
+men--the best in the world and led by the best general--could be
+destroyed in conflict with a raw army of half its numerical strength,
+and led by inexperienced commanders as the Russian army was. Not only
+did no one see this, but on the Russian side every effort was made to
+hinder the only thing that could save Russia, while on the French side,
+despite Napoleon's experience and so-called military genius, every
+effort was directed to pushing on to Moscow at the end of the summer,
+that is, to doing the very thing that was bound to lead to destruction.
+
+In historical works on the year 1812 French writers are very fond of
+saying that Napoleon felt the danger of extending his line, that he
+sought a battle and that his marshals advised him to stop at Smolensk,
+and of making similar statements to show that the danger of the campaign
+was even then understood. Russian authors are still fonder of telling us
+that from the commencement of the campaign a Scythian war plan was
+adopted to lure Napoleon into the depths of Russia, and this plan some
+of them attribute to Pfuel, others to a certain Frenchman, others to
+Toll, and others again to Alexander himself--pointing to notes,
+projects, and letters which contain hints of such a line of action. But
+all these hints at what happened, both from the French side and the
+Russian, are advanced only because they fit in with the event. Had that
+event not occurred these hints would have been forgotten, as we have
+forgotten the thousands and millions of hints and expectations to the
+contrary which were current then but have now been forgotten because the
+event falsified them. There are always so many conjectures as to the
+issue of any event that however it may end there will always be people
+to say: "I said then that it would be so," quite forgetting that amid
+their innumerable conjectures many were to quite the contrary effect.
+
+Conjectures as to Napoleon's awareness of the danger of extending his
+line, and (on the Russian side) as to luring the enemy into the depths
+of Russia, are evidently of that kind, and only by much straining can
+historians attribute such conceptions to Napoleon and his marshals, or
+such plans to the Russian commanders. All the facts are in flat
+contradiction to such conjectures. During the whole period of the war
+not only was there no wish on the Russian side to draw the French into
+the heart of the country, but from their first entry into Russia
+everything was done to stop them. And not only was Napoleon not afraid
+to extend his line, but he welcomed every step forward as a triumph and
+did not seek battle as eagerly as in former campaigns, but very lazily.
+
+At the very beginning of the war our armies were divided, and our sole
+aim was to unite them, though uniting the armies was no advantage if we
+meant to retire and lure the enemy into the depths of the country. Our
+Emperor joined the army to encourage it to defend every inch of Russian
+soil and not to retreat. The enormous Drissa camp was formed on Pfuel's
+plan, and there was no intention of retiring farther. The Emperor
+reproached the commanders in chief for every step they retired. He could
+not bear the idea of letting the enemy even reach Smolensk, still less
+could he contemplate the burning of Moscow, and when our armies did
+unite he was displeased that Smolensk was abandoned and burned without a
+general engagement having been fought under its walls.
+
+So thought the Emperor, and the Russian commanders and people were still
+more provoked at the thought that our forces were retreating into the
+depths of the country.
+
+Napoleon having cut our armies apart advanced far into the country and
+missed several chances of forcing an engagement. In August he was at
+Smolensk and thought only of how to advance farther, though as we now
+see that advance was evidently ruinous to him.
+
+The facts clearly show that Napoleon did not foresee the danger of the
+advance on Moscow, nor did Alexander and the Russian commanders then
+think of luring Napoleon on, but quite the contrary. The luring of
+Napoleon into the depths of the country was not the result of any plan,
+for no one believed it to be possible; it resulted from a most complex
+interplay of intrigues, aims, and wishes among those who took part in
+the war and had no perception whatever of the inevitable, or of the one
+way of saving Russia. Everything came about fortuitously. The armies
+were divided at the commencement of the campaign. We tried to unite
+them, with the evident intention of giving battle and checking the
+enemy's advance, and by this effort to unite them while avoiding battle
+with a much stronger enemy, and necessarily withdrawing the armies at an
+acute angle--we led the French on to Smolensk. But we withdrew at an
+acute angle not only because the French advanced between our two armies;
+the angle became still more acute and we withdrew still farther, because
+Barclay de Tolly was an unpopular foreigner disliked by Bagration (who
+would come under his command), and Bagration--being in command of the
+second army--tried to postpone joining up and coming under Barclay's
+command as long as he could. Bagration was slow in effecting the
+junction--though that was the chief aim of all at headquarters--because,
+as he alleged, he exposed his army to danger on this march, and it was
+best for him to retire more to the left and more to the south, worrying
+the enemy from flank and rear and securing from the Ukraine recruits for
+his army; and it looks as if he planned this in order not to come under
+the command of the detested foreigner Barclay, whose rank was inferior
+to his own.
+
+The Emperor was with the army to encourage it, but his presence and
+ignorance of what steps to take, and the enormous number of advisers and
+plans, destroyed the first army's energy and it retired.
+
+The intention was to make a stand at the Drissa camp, but Paulucci,
+aiming at becoming commander-in-chief, unexpectedly employed his energy
+to influence Alexander, and Pfuel's whole plan was abandoned and the
+command entrusted to Barclay. But as Barclay did not inspire confidence
+his power was limited. The armies were divided, there was no unity of
+command, and Barclay was unpopular; but from this confusion, division,
+and the unpopularity of the foreign commander-in-chief, there resulted
+on the one hand indecision and the avoidance of a battle (which we could
+not have refrained from had the armies been united and had someone else,
+instead of Barclay, been in command) and on the other an ever-increasing
+indignation against the foreigners and an increase in patriotic zeal.
+
+At last the Emperor left the army, and as the most convenient and indeed
+the only pretext for his departure it was decided that it was necessary
+for him to inspire the people in the capitals and arouse the nation in
+general to a patriotic war. And by this visit of the Emperor to Moscow
+the strength of the Russian army was trebled.
+
+He left in order not to obstruct the commander-in-chief's undivided
+control of the army, and hoping that more decisive action would then be
+taken, but the command of the armies became still more confused and
+enfeebled. Bennigsen, the Tsarevich, and a swarm of adjutants general
+remained with the army to keep the commander-in-chief under observation
+and arouse his energy, and Barclay, feeling less free than ever under
+the observation of all these "eyes of the Emperor," became still more
+cautious of undertaking any decisive action and avoided giving battle.
+
+Barclay stood for caution. The Tsarevich hinted at treachery and
+demanded a general engagement. Lubomirski, Bronnitski, Wlocki, and the
+others of that group stirred up so much trouble that Barclay, under
+pretext of sending papers to the Emperor, dispatched these Polish
+adjutants general to Petersburg and plunged into an open struggle with
+Bennigsen and the Tsarevich.
+
+At Smolensk the armies at last reunited, much as Bagration disliked it.
+
+Bagration drove up in a carriage to the house occupied by Barclay.
+Barclay donned his sash and came out to meet and report to his senior
+officer Bagration.
+
+Despite his seniority in rank Bagration, in this contest of magnanimity,
+took his orders from Barclay, but, having submitted, agreed with him
+less than ever. By the Emperor's orders Bagration reported direct to
+him. He wrote to Arakcheev, the Emperor's confidant: "It must be as my
+sovereign pleases, but I cannot work with the Minister (meaning
+Barclay). For God's sake send me somewhere else if only in command of a
+regiment. I cannot stand it here. Headquarters are so full of Germans
+that a Russian cannot exist and there is no sense in anything. I thought
+I was really serving my sovereign and the Fatherland, but it turns out
+that I am serving Barclay. I confess I do not want to."
+
+The swarm of Bronnitskis and Wintzingerodes and their like still further
+embittered the relations between the commanders in chief, and even less
+unity resulted. Preparations were made to fight the French before
+Smolensk. A general was sent to survey the position. This general,
+hating Barclay, rode to visit a friend of his own, a corps commander,
+and, having spent the day with him, returned to Barclay and condemned,
+as unsuitable from every point of view, the battleground he had not
+seen.
+
+While disputes and intrigues were going on about the future field of
+battle, and while we were looking for the French--having lost touch with
+them--the French stumbled upon Neverovski's division and reached the
+walls of Smolensk.
+
+It was necessary to fight an unexpected battle at Smolensk to save our
+lines of communication. The battle was fought and thousands were killed
+on both sides.
+
+Smolensk was abandoned contrary to the wishes of the Emperor and of the
+whole people. But Smolensk was burned by its own inhabitants-who had
+been misled by their governor. And these ruined inhabitants, setting an
+example to other Russians, went to Moscow thinking only of their own
+losses but kindling hatred of the foe. Napoleon advanced farther and we
+retired, thus arriving at the very result which caused his destruction.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+The day after his son had left, Prince Nicholas sent for Princess Mary
+to come to his study.
+
+"Well? Are you satisfied now?" said he. "You've made me quarrel with my
+son! Satisfied, are you? That's all you wanted! Satisfied?... It hurts
+me, it hurts. I'm old and weak and this is what you wanted. Well then,
+gloat over it! Gloat over it!"
+
+After that Princess Mary did not see her father for a whole week. He was
+ill and did not leave his study.
+
+Princess Mary noticed to her surprise that during this illness the old
+prince not only excluded her from his room, but did not admit
+Mademoiselle Bourienne either. Tikhon alone attended him.
+
+At the end of the week the prince reappeared and resumed his former way
+of life, devoting himself with special activity to building operations
+and the arrangement of the gardens and completely breaking off his
+relations with Mademoiselle Bourienne. His looks and cold tone to his
+daughter seemed to say: "There, you see? You plotted against me, you
+lied to Prince Andrew about my relations with that Frenchwoman and made
+me quarrel with him, but you see I need neither her nor you!"
+
+Princess Mary spent half of every day with little Nicholas, watching his
+lessons, teaching him Russian and music herself, and talking to
+Dessalles; the rest of the day she spent over her books, with her old
+nurse, or with "God's folk" who sometimes came by the back door to see
+her.
+
+Of the war Princess Mary thought as women do think about wars. She
+feared for her brother who was in it, was horrified by and amazed at the
+strange cruelty that impels men to kill one another, but she did not
+understand the significance of this war, which seemed to her like all
+previous wars. She did not realize the significance of this war, though
+Dessalles with whom she constantly conversed was passionately interested
+in its progress and tried to explain his own conception of it to her,
+and though the "God's folk" who came to see her reported, in their own
+way, the rumors current among the people of an invasion by Antichrist,
+and though Julie (now Princess Drubetskaya), who had resumed
+correspondence with her, wrote patriotic letters from Moscow.
+
+"I write you in Russian, my good friend," wrote Julie in her Frenchified
+Russian, "because I have a detestation for all the French, and the same
+for their language which I cannot support to hear spoken.... We in
+Moscow are elated by enthusiasm for our adored Emperor.
+
+"My poor husband is enduring pains and hunger in Jewish taverns, but the
+news which I have inspires me yet more.
+
+"You heard probably of the heroic exploit of Raevski, embracing his two
+sons and saying: 'I will perish with them but we will not be shaken!'
+And truly though the enemy was twice stronger than we, we were
+unshakable. We pass the time as we can, but in war as in war! The
+princesses Aline and Sophie sit whole days with me, and we, unhappy
+widows of live men, make beautiful conversations over our 'charpie',
+only you, my friend, are missing..." and so on.
+
+The chief reason Princess Mary did not realize the full significance of
+this war was that the old prince never spoke of it, did not recognize
+it, and laughed at Dessalles when he mentioned it at dinner. The
+prince's tone was so calm and confident that Princess Mary
+unhesitatingly believed him.
+
+All that July the old prince was exceedingly active and even animated.
+He planned another garden and began a new building for the domestic
+serfs. The only thing that made Princess Mary anxious about him was that
+he slept very little and, instead of sleeping in his study as usual,
+changed his sleeping place every day. One day he would order his camp
+bed to be set up in the glass gallery, another day he remained on the
+couch or on the lounge chair in the drawing room and dozed there without
+undressing, while--instead of Mademoiselle Bourienne--a serf boy read to
+him. Then again he would spend a night in the dining room.
+
+On August 1, a second letter was received from Prince Andrew. In his
+first letter which came soon after he had left home, Prince Andrew had
+dutifully asked his father's forgiveness for what he had allowed himself
+to say and begged to be restored to his favor. To this letter the old
+prince had replied affectionately, and from that time had kept the
+Frenchwoman at a distance. Prince Andrew's second letter, written near
+Vitebsk after the French had occupied that town, gave a brief account of
+the whole campaign, enclosed for them a plan he had drawn and forecasts
+as to the further progress of the war. In this letter Prince Andrew
+pointed out to his father the danger of staying at Bald Hills, so near
+the theater of war and on the army's direct line of march, and advised
+him to move to Moscow.
+
+At dinner that day, on Dessalles' mentioning that the French were said
+to have already entered Vitebsk, the old prince remembered his son's
+letter.
+
+"There was a letter from Prince Andrew today," he said to Princess Mary-
+-"Haven't you read it?"
+
+"No, Father," she replied in a frightened voice.
+
+She could not have read the letter as she did not even know it had
+arrived.
+
+"He writes about this war," said the prince, with the ironic smile that
+had become habitual to him in speaking of the present war.
+
+"That must be very interesting," said Dessalles. "Prince Andrew is in a
+position to know..."
+
+"Oh, very interesting!" said Mademoiselle Bourienne.
+
+"Go and get it for me," said the old prince to Mademoiselle Bourienne.
+"You know--under the paperweight on the little table."
+
+Mademoiselle Bourienne jumped up eagerly.
+
+"No, don't!" he exclaimed with a frown. "You go, Michael Ivanovich."
+
+Michael Ivanovich rose and went to the study. But as soon as he had left
+the room the old prince, looking uneasily round, threw down his napkin
+and went himself.
+
+"They can't do anything... always make some muddle," he muttered.
+
+While he was away Princess Mary, Dessalles, Mademoiselle Bourienne, and
+even little Nicholas exchanged looks in silence. The old prince returned
+with quick steps, accompanied by Michael Ivanovich, bringing the letter
+and a plan. These he put down beside him--not letting anyone read them
+at dinner.
+
+On moving to the drawing room he handed the letter to Princess Mary and,
+spreading out before him the plan of the new building and fixing his
+eyes upon it, told her to read the letter aloud. When she had done so
+Princess Mary looked inquiringly at her father. He was examining the
+plan, evidently engrossed in his own ideas.
+
+"What do you think of it, Prince?" Dessalles ventured to ask.
+
+"I? I?..." said the prince as if unpleasantly awakened, and not taking
+his eyes from the plan of the building.
+
+"Very possibly the theater of war will move so near to us that..."
+
+"Ha ha ha! The theater of war!" said the prince. "I have said and still
+say that the theater of war is Poland and the enemy will never get
+beyond the Niemen."
+
+Dessalles looked in amazement at the prince, who was talking of the
+Niemen when the enemy was already at the Dnieper, but Princess Mary,
+forgetting the geographical position of the Niemen, thought that what
+her father was saying was correct.
+
+"When the snow melts they'll sink in the Polish swamps. Only they could
+fail to see it," the prince continued, evidently thinking of the
+campaign of 1807 which seemed to him so recent. "Bennigsen should have
+advanced into Prussia sooner, then things would have taken a different
+turn..."
+
+"But, Prince," Dessalles began timidly, "the letter mentions
+Vitebsk...."
+
+"Ah, the letter? Yes..." replied the prince peevishly. "Yes... yes..."
+His face suddenly took on a morose expression. He paused. "Yes, he
+writes that the French were beaten at... at... what river is it?"
+
+Dessalles dropped his eyes.
+
+"The prince says nothing about that," he remarked gently.
+
+"Doesn't he? But I didn't invent it myself."
+
+No one spoke for a long time.
+
+"Yes... yes... Well, Michael Ivanovich," he suddenly went on, raising
+his head and pointing to the plan of the building, "tell me how you mean
+to alter it...."
+
+Michael Ivanovich went up to the plan, and the prince after speaking to
+him about the building looked angrily at Princess Mary and Dessalles and
+went to his own room.
+
+Princess Mary saw Dessalles' embarrassed and astonished look fixed on
+her father, noticed his silence, and was struck by the fact that her
+father had forgotten his son's letter on the drawing-room table; but she
+was not only afraid to speak of it and ask Dessalles the reason of his
+confusion and silence, but was afraid even to think about it.
+
+In the evening Michael Ivanovich, sent by the prince, came to Princess
+Mary for Prince Andrew's letter which had been forgotten in the drawing
+room. She gave it to him and, unpleasant as it was to her to do so,
+ventured to ask him what her father was doing.
+
+"Always busy," replied Michael Ivanovich with a respectfully ironic
+smile which caused Princess Mary to turn pale. "He's worrying very much
+about the new building. He has been reading a little, but now"--Michael
+Ivanovich went on, lowering his voice--"now he's at his desk, busy with
+his will, I expect." (One of the prince's favorite occupations of late
+had been the preparation of some papers he meant to leave at his death
+and which he called his "will.")
+
+"And Alpatych is being sent to Smolensk?" asked Princess Mary.
+
+"Oh, yes, he has been waiting to start for some time."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+When Michael Ivanovich returned to the study with the letter, the old
+prince, with spectacles on and a shade over his eyes, was sitting at his
+open bureau with screened candles, holding a paper in his outstretched
+hand, and in a somewhat dramatic attitude was reading his manuscript--
+his "Remarks" as he termed it--which was to be transmitted to the
+Emperor after his death.
+
+When Michael Ivanovich went in there were tears in the prince's eyes
+evoked by the memory of the time when the paper he was now reading had
+been written. He took the letter from Michael Ivanovich's hand, put it
+in his pocket, folded up his papers, and called in Alpatych who had long
+been waiting.
+
+The prince had a list of things to be bought in Smolensk and, walking up
+and down the room past Alpatych who stood by the door, he gave his
+instructions.
+
+"First, notepaper--do you hear? Eight quires, like this sample, gilt-
+edged... it must be exactly like the sample. Varnish, sealing wax, as in
+Michael Ivanovich's list."
+
+He paced up and down for a while and glanced at his notes.
+
+"Then hand to the governor in person a letter about the deed."
+
+Next, bolts for the doors of the new building were wanted and had to be
+of a special shape the prince had himself designed, and a leather case
+had to be ordered to keep the "will" in.
+
+The instructions to Alpatych took over two hours and still the prince
+did not let him go. He sat down, sank into thought, closed his eyes, and
+dozed off. Alpatych made a slight movement.
+
+"Well, go, go! If anything more is wanted I'll send after you."
+
+Alpatych went out. The prince again went to his bureau, glanced into it,
+fingered his papers, closed the bureau again, and sat down at the table
+to write to the governor.
+
+It was already late when he rose after sealing the letter. He wished to
+sleep, but he knew he would not be able to and that most depressing
+thoughts came to him in bed. So he called Tikhon and went through the
+rooms with him to show him where to set up the bed for that night.
+
+He went about looking at every corner. Every place seemed
+unsatisfactory, but worst of all was his customary couch in the study.
+That couch was dreadful to him, probably because of the oppressive
+thoughts he had had when lying there. It was unsatisfactory everywhere,
+but the corner behind the piano in the sitting room was better than
+other places: he had never slept there yet.
+
+With the help of a footman Tikhon brought in the bedstead and began
+putting it up.
+
+"That's not right! That's not right!" cried the prince, and himself
+pushed it a few inches from the corner and then closer in again.
+
+"Well, at last I've finished, now I'll rest," thought the prince, and
+let Tikhon undress him.
+
+Frowning with vexation at the effort necessary to divest himself of his
+coat and trousers, the prince undressed, sat down heavily on the bed,
+and appeared to be meditating as he looked contemptuously at his
+withered yellow legs. He was not meditating, but only deferring the
+moment of making the effort to lift those legs up and turn over on the
+bed. "Ugh, how hard it is! Oh, that this toil might end and you would
+release me!" thought he. Pressing his lips together he made that effort
+for the twenty-thousandth time and lay down. But hardly had he done so
+before he felt the bed rocking backwards and forwards beneath him as if
+it were breathing heavily and jolting. This happened to him almost every
+night. He opened his eyes as they were closing.
+
+"No peace, damn them!" he muttered, angry he knew not with whom. "Ah
+yes, there was something else important, very important, that I was
+keeping till I should be in bed. The bolts? No, I told him about them.
+No, it was something, something in the drawing room. Princess Mary
+talked some nonsense. Dessalles, that fool, said something. Something in
+my pocket--can't remember..."
+
+"Tikhon, what did we talk about at dinner?"
+
+"About Prince Michael..."
+
+"Be quiet, quiet!" The prince slapped his hand on the table. "Yes, I
+know, Prince Andrew's letter! Princess Mary read it. Dessalles said
+something about Vitebsk. Now I'll read it."
+
+He had the letter taken from his pocket and the table--on which stood a
+glass of lemonade and a spiral wax candle--moved close to the bed, and
+putting on his spectacles he began reading. Only now in the stillness of
+the night, reading it by the faint light under the green shade, did he
+grasp its meaning for a moment.
+
+"The French at Vitebsk, in four days' march they may be at Smolensk;
+perhaps are already there! Tikhon!" Tikhon jumped up. "No, no, I don't
+want anything!" he shouted.
+
+He put the letter under the candlestick and closed his eyes. And there
+rose before him the Danube at bright noonday: reeds, the Russian camp,
+and himself a young general without a wrinkle on his ruddy face,
+vigorous and alert, entering Potemkin's gaily colored tent, and a
+burning sense of jealousy of "the favorite" agitated him now as strongly
+as it had done then. He recalled all the words spoken at that first
+meeting with Potemkin. And he saw before him a plump, rather sallow-
+faced, short, stout woman, the Empress Mother, with her smile and her
+words at her first gracious reception of him, and then that same face on
+the catafalque, and the encounter he had with Zubov over her coffin
+about his right to kiss her hand.
+
+"Oh, quicker, quicker! To get back to that time and have done with all
+the present! Quicker, quicker--and that they should leave me in peace!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+Bald Hills, Prince Nicholas Bolkonski's estate, lay forty miles east
+from Smolensk and two miles from the main road to Moscow.
+
+The same evening that the prince gave his instructions to Alpatych,
+Dessalles, having asked to see Princess Mary, told her that, as the
+prince was not very well and was taking no steps to secure his safety,
+though from Prince Andrew's letter it was evident that to remain at Bald
+Hills might be dangerous, he respectfully advised her to send a letter
+by Alpatych to the Provincial Governor at Smolensk, asking him to let
+her know the state of affairs and the extent of the danger to which Bald
+Hills was exposed. Dessalles wrote this letter to the Governor for
+Princess Mary, she signed it, and it was given to Alpatych with
+instructions to hand it to the Governor and to come back as quickly as
+possible if there was danger.
+
+Having received all his orders Alpatych, wearing a white beaver hat--a
+present from the prince--and carrying a stick as the prince did, went
+out accompanied by his family. Three well-fed roans stood ready
+harnessed to a small conveyance with a leather hood.
+
+The larger bell was muffled and the little bells on the harness stuffed
+with paper. The prince allowed no one at Bald Hills to drive with
+ringing bells; but on a long journey Alpatych liked to have them. His
+satellites--the senior clerk, a countinghouse clerk, a scullery maid, a
+cook, two old women, a little pageboy, the coachman, and various
+domestic serfs--were seeing him off.
+
+His daughter placed chintz-covered down cushions for him to sit on and
+behind his back. His old sister-in-law popped in a small bundle, and one
+of the coachmen helped him into the vehicle.
+
+"There! There! Women's fuss! Women, women!" said Alpatych, puffing and
+speaking rapidly just as the prince did, and he climbed into the trap.
+
+After giving the clerk orders about the work to be done, Alpatych, not
+trying to imitate the prince now, lifted the hat from his bald head and
+crossed himself three times.
+
+"If there is anything... come back, Yakov Alpatych! For Christ's sake
+think of us!" cried his wife, referring to the rumors of war and the
+enemy.
+
+"Women, women! Women's fuss!" muttered Alpatych to himself and started
+on his journey, looking round at the fields of yellow rye and the still-
+green, thickly growing oats, and at other quite black fields just being
+plowed a second time.
+
+As he went along he looked with pleasure at the year's splendid crop of
+corn, scrutinized the strips of ryefield which here and there were
+already being reaped, made his calculations as to the sowing and the
+harvest, and asked himself whether he had not forgotten any of the
+prince's orders.
+
+Having baited the horses twice on the way, he arrived at the town toward
+evening on the fourth of August.
+
+Alpatych kept meeting and overtaking baggage trains and troops on the
+road. As he approached Smolensk he heard the sounds of distant firing,
+but these did not impress him. What struck him most was the sight of a
+splendid field of oats in which a camp had been pitched and which was
+being mown down by the soldiers, evidently for fodder. This fact
+impressed Alpatych, but in thinking about his own business he soon
+forgot it.
+
+All the interests of his life for more than thirty years had been
+bounded by the will of the prince, and he never went beyond that limit.
+Everything not connected with the execution of the prince's orders did
+not interest and did not even exist for Alpatych.
+
+On reaching Smolensk on the evening of the fourth of August he put up in
+the Gachina suburb across the Dnieper, at the inn kept by Ferapontov,
+where he had been in the habit of putting up for the last thirty years.
+Some thirty years ago Ferapontov, by Alpatych's advice, had bought a
+wood from the prince, had begun to trade, and now had a house, an inn,
+and a corn dealer's shop in that province. He was a stout, dark, red-
+faced peasant in the forties, with thick lips, a broad knob of a nose,
+similar knobs over his black frowning brows, and a round belly.
+
+Wearing a waistcoat over his cotton shirt, Ferapontov was standing
+before his shop which opened onto the street. On seeing Alpatych he went
+up to him.
+
+"You're welcome, Yakov Alpatych. Folks are leaving the town, but you
+have come to it," said he.
+
+"Why are they leaving the town?" asked Alpatych.
+
+"That's what I say. Folks are foolish! Always afraid of the French."
+
+"Women's fuss, women's fuss!" said Alpatych.
+
+"Just what I think, Yakov Alpatych. What I say is: orders have been
+given not to let them in, so that must be right. And the peasants are
+asking three rubles for carting--it isn't Christian!"
+
+Yakov Alpatych heard without heeding. He asked for a samovar and for hay
+for his horses, and when he had had his tea he went to bed.
+
+All night long troops were moving past the inn. Next morning Alpatych
+donned a jacket he wore only in town and went out on business. It was a
+sunny morning and by eight o'clock it was already hot. "A good day for
+harvesting," thought Alpatych.
+
+From beyond the town firing had been heard since early morning. At eight
+o'clock the booming of cannon was added to the sound of musketry. Many
+people were hurrying through the streets and there were many soldiers,
+but cabs were still driving about, tradesmen stood at their shops, and
+service was being held in the churches as usual. Alpatych went to the
+shops, to government offices, to the post office, and to the Governor's.
+In the offices and shops and at the post office everyone was talking
+about the army and about the enemy who was already attacking the town,
+everybody was asking what should be done, and all were trying to calm
+one another.
+
+In front of the Governor's house Alpatych found a large number of
+people, Cossacks, and a traveling carriage of the Governor's. At the
+porch he met two of the landed gentry, one of whom he knew. This man, an
+ex-captain of police, was saying angrily:
+
+"It's no joke, you know! It's all very well if you're single. 'One man
+though undone is but one,' as the proverb says, but with thirteen in
+your family and all the property... They've brought us to utter ruin!
+What sort of governors are they to do that? They ought to be hanged--the
+brigands!..."
+
+"Oh come, that's enough!" said the other.
+
+"What do I care? Let him hear! We're not dogs," said the ex-captain of
+police, and looking round he noticed Alpatych.
+
+"Oh, Yakov Alpatych! What have you come for?"
+
+"To see the Governor by his excellency's order," answered Alpatych,
+lifting his head and proudly thrusting his hand into the bosom of his
+coat as he always did when he mentioned the prince.... "He has ordered
+me to inquire into the position of affairs," he added.
+
+"Yes, go and find out!" shouted the angry gentleman. "They've brought
+things to such a pass that there are no carts or anything!... There it
+is again, do you hear?" said he, pointing in the direction whence came
+the sounds of firing.
+
+"They've brought us all to ruin... the brigands!" he repeated, and
+descended the porch steps.
+
+Alpatych swayed his head and went upstairs. In the waiting room were
+tradesmen, women, and officials, looking silently at one another. The
+door of the Governor's room opened and they all rose and moved forward.
+An official ran out, said some words to a merchant, called a stout
+official with a cross hanging on his neck to follow him, and vanished
+again, evidently wishing to avoid the inquiring looks and questions
+addressed to him. Alpatych moved forward and next time the official came
+out addressed him, one hand placed in the breast of his buttoned coat,
+and handed him two letters.
+
+"To his Honor Baron Asch, from General-in-Chief Prince Bolkonski," he
+announced with such solemnity and significance that the official turned
+to him and took the letters.
+
+A few minutes later the Governor received Alpatych and hurriedly said to
+him:
+
+"Inform the prince and princess that I knew nothing: I acted on the
+highest instructions--here..." and he handed a paper to Alpatych.
+"Still, as the prince is unwell my advice is that they should go to
+Moscow. I am just starting myself. Inform them..."
+
+But the Governor did not finish: a dusty perspiring officer ran into the
+room and began to say something in French. The Governor's face expressed
+terror.
+
+"Go," he said, nodding his head to Alpatych, and began questioning the
+officer.
+
+Eager, frightened, helpless glances were turned on Alpatych when he came
+out of the Governor's room. Involuntarily listening now to the firing,
+which had drawn nearer and was increasing in strength, Alpatych hurried
+to his inn. The paper handed to him by the Governor said this:
+
+"I assure you that the town of Smolensk is not in the slightest danger
+as yet and it is unlikely that it will be threatened with any. I from
+the one side and Prince Bagration from the other are marching to unite
+our forces before Smolensk, which junction will be effected on the 22nd
+instant, and both armies with their united forces will defend our
+compatriots of the province entrusted to your care till our efforts
+shall have beaten back the enemies of our Fatherland, or till the last
+warrior in our valiant ranks has perished. From this you will see that
+you have a perfect right to reassure the inhabitants of Smolensk, for
+those defended by two such brave armies may feel assured of victory."
+(Instructions from Barclay de Tolly to Baron Asch, the civil governor of
+Smolensk, 1812.)
+
+People were anxiously roaming about the streets.
+
+Carts piled high with household utensils, chairs, and cupboards kept
+emerging from the gates of the yards and moving along the streets.
+Loaded carts stood at the house next to Ferapontov's and women were
+wailing and lamenting as they said good-by. A small watchdog ran round
+barking in front of the harnessed horses.
+
+Alpatych entered the innyard at a quicker pace than usual and went
+straight to the shed where his horses and trap were. The coachman was
+asleep. He woke him up, told him to harness, and went into the passage.
+From the host's room came the sounds of a child crying, the despairing
+sobs of a woman, and the hoarse angry shouting of Ferapontov. The cook
+began running hither and thither in the passage like a frightened hen,
+just as Alpatych entered.
+
+"He's done her to death. Killed the mistress!... Beat her... dragged her
+about so!..."
+
+"What for?" asked Alpatych.
+
+"She kept begging to go away. She's a woman! 'Take me away,' says she,
+'don't let me perish with my little children! Folks,' she says, 'are all
+gone, so why,' she says, 'don't we go?' And he began beating and pulling
+her about so!"
+
+At these words Alpatych nodded as if in approval, and not wishing to
+hear more went to the door of the room opposite the innkeeper's, where
+he had left his purchases.
+
+"You brute, you murderer!" screamed a thin, pale woman who, with a baby
+in her arms and her kerchief torn from her head, burst through the door
+at that moment and down the steps into the yard.
+
+Ferapontov came out after her, but on seeing Alpatych adjusted his
+waistcoat, smoothed his hair, yawned, and followed Alpatych into the
+opposite room.
+
+"Going already?" said he.
+
+Alpatych, without answering or looking at his host, sorted his packages
+and asked how much he owed.
+
+"We'll reckon up! Well, have you been to the Governor's?" asked
+Ferapontov. "What has been decided?"
+
+Alpatych replied that the Governor had not told him anything definite.
+
+"With our business, how can we get away?" said Ferapontov. "We'd have to
+pay seven rubles a cartload to Dorogobuzh and I tell them they're not
+Christians to ask it! Selivanov, now, did a good stroke last Thursday--
+sold flour to the army at nine rubles a sack. Will you have some tea?"
+he added.
+
+While the horses were being harnessed Alpatych and Ferapontov over their
+tea talked of the price of corn, the crops, and the good weather for
+harvesting.
+
+"Well, it seems to be getting quieter," remarked Ferapontov, finishing
+his third cup of tea and getting up. "Ours must have got the best of it.
+The orders were not to let them in. So we're in force, it seems.... They
+say the other day Matthew Ivanych Platov drove them into the river
+Marina and drowned some eighteen thousand in one day."
+
+Alpatych collected his parcels, handed them to the coachman who had come
+in, and settled up with the innkeeper. The noise of wheels, hoofs, and
+bells was heard from the gateway as a little trap passed out.
+
+It was by now late in the afternoon. Half the street was in shadow, the
+other half brightly lit by the sun. Alpatych looked out of the window
+and went to the door. Suddenly the strange sound of a far-off whistling
+and thud was heard, followed by a boom of cannon blending into a dull
+roar that set the windows rattling.
+
+He went out into the street: two men were running past toward the
+bridge. From different sides came whistling sounds and the thud of
+cannon balls and bursting shells falling on the town. But these sounds
+were hardly heard in comparison with the noise of the firing outside the
+town and attracted little attention from the inhabitants. The town was
+being bombarded by a hundred and thirty guns which Napoleon had ordered
+up after four o'clock. The people did not at once realize the meaning of
+this bombardment.
+
+At first the noise of the falling bombs and shells only aroused
+curiosity. Ferapontov's wife, who till then had not ceased wailing under
+the shed, became quiet and with the baby in her arms went to the gate,
+listening to the sounds and looking in silence at the people.
+
+The cook and a shop assistant came to the gate. With lively curiosity
+everyone tried to get a glimpse of the projectiles as they flew over
+their heads. Several people came round the corner talking eagerly.
+
+"What force!" remarked one. "Knocked the roof and ceiling all to
+splinters!"
+
+"Routed up the earth like a pig," said another.
+
+"That's grand, it bucks one up!" laughed the first. "Lucky you jumped
+aside, or it would have wiped you out!"
+
+Others joined those men and stopped and told how cannon balls had fallen
+on a house close to them. Meanwhile still more projectiles, now with the
+swift sinister whistle of a cannon ball, now with the agreeable
+intermittent whistle of a shell, flew over people's heads incessantly,
+but not one fell close by, they all flew over. Alpatych was getting into
+his trap. The innkeeper stood at the gate.
+
+"What are you staring at?" he shouted to the cook, who in her red skirt,
+with sleeves rolled up, swinging her bare elbows, had stepped to the
+corner to listen to what was being said.
+
+"What marvels!" she exclaimed, but hearing her master's voice she turned
+back, pulling down her tucked-up skirt.
+
+Once more something whistled, but this time quite close, swooping
+downwards like a little bird; a flame flashed in the middle of the
+street, something exploded, and the street was shrouded in smoke.
+
+"Scoundrel, what are you doing?" shouted the innkeeper, rushing to the
+cook.
+
+At that moment the pitiful wailing of women was heard from different
+sides, the frightened baby began to cry, and people crowded silently
+with pale faces round the cook. The loudest sound in that crowd was her
+wailing.
+
+"Oh-h-h! Dear souls, dear kind souls! Don't let me die! My good
+souls!..."
+
+Five minutes later no one remained in the street. The cook, with her
+thigh broken by a shell splinter, had been carried into the kitchen.
+Alpatych, his coachman, Ferapontov's wife and children and the house
+porter were all sitting in the cellar, listening. The roar of guns, the
+whistling of projectiles, and the piteous moaning of the cook, which
+rose above the other sounds, did not cease for a moment. The mistress
+rocked and hushed her baby and when anyone came into the cellar asked in
+a pathetic whisper what had become of her husband who had remained in
+the street. A shopman who entered told her that her husband had gone
+with others to the cathedral, whence they were fetching the wonder-
+working icon of Smolensk.
+
+Toward dusk the cannonade began to subside. Alpatych left the cellar and
+stopped in the doorway. The evening sky that had been so clear was
+clouded with smoke, through which, high up, the sickle of the new moon
+shone strangely. Now that the terrible din of the guns had ceased a hush
+seemed to reign over the town, broken only by the rustle of footsteps,
+the moaning, the distant cries, and the crackle of fires which seemed
+widespread everywhere. The cook's moans had now subsided. On two sides
+black curling clouds of smoke rose and spread from the fires. Through
+the streets soldiers in various uniforms walked or ran confusedly in
+different directions like ants from a ruined ant-hill. Several of them
+ran into Ferapontov's yard before Alpatych's eyes. Alpatych went out to
+the gate. A retreating regiment, thronging and hurrying, blocked the
+street.
+
+Noticing him, an officer said: "The town is being abandoned. Get away,
+get away!" and then, turning to the soldiers, shouted:
+
+"I'll teach you to run into the yards!"
+
+Alpatych went back to the house, called the coachman, and told him to
+set off. Ferapontov's whole household came out too, following Alpatych
+and the coachman. The women, who had been silent till then, suddenly
+began to wail as they looked at the fires--the smoke and even the flames
+of which could be seen in the failing twilight--and as if in reply the
+same kind of lamentation was heard from other parts of the street.
+Inside the shed Alpatych and the coachman arranged the tangled reins and
+traces of their horses with trembling hands.
+
+As Alpatych was driving out of the gate he saw some ten soldiers in
+Ferapontov's open shop, talking loudly and filling their bags and
+knapsacks with flour and sunflower seeds. Just then Ferapontov returned
+and entered his shop. On seeing the soldiers he was about to shout at
+them, but suddenly stopped and, clutching at his hair, burst into sobs
+and laughter:
+
+"Loot everything, lads! Don't let those devils get it!" he cried, taking
+some bags of flour himself and throwing them into the street.
+
+Some of the soldiers were frightened and ran away, others went on
+filling their bags. On seeing Alpatych, Ferapontov turned to him:
+
+"Russia is done for!" he cried. "Alpatych, I'll set the place on fire
+myself. We're done for!..." and Ferapontov ran into the yard.
+
+Soldiers were passing in a constant stream along the street blocking it
+completely, so that Alpatych could not pass out and had to wait.
+Ferapontov's wife and children were also sitting in a cart waiting till
+it was possible to drive out.
+
+Night had come. There were stars in the sky and the new moon shone out
+amid the smoke that screened it. On the sloping descent to the Dnieper
+Alpatych's cart and that of the innkeeper's wife, which were slowly
+moving amid the rows of soldiers and of other vehicles, had to stop. In
+a side street near the crossroads where the vehicles had stopped, a
+house and some shops were on fire. This fire was already burning itself
+out. The flames now died down and were lost in the black smoke, now
+suddenly flared up again brightly, lighting up with strange distinctness
+the faces of the people crowding at the crossroads. Black figures
+flitted about before the fire, and through the incessant crackling of
+the flames talking and shouting could be heard. Seeing that his trap
+would not be able to move on for some time, Alpatych got down and turned
+into the side street to look at the fire. Soldiers were continually
+rushing backwards and forwards near it, and he saw two of them and a man
+in a frieze coat dragging burning beams into another yard across the
+street, while others carried bundles of hay.
+
+Alpatych went up to a large crowd standing before a high barn which was
+blazing briskly. The walls were all on fire and the back wall had fallen
+in, the wooden roof was collapsing, and the rafters were alight. The
+crowd was evidently watching for the roof to fall in, and Alpatych
+watched for it too.
+
+"Alpatych!" a familiar voice suddenly hailed the old man.
+
+"Mercy on us! Your excellency!" answered Alpatych, immediately
+recognizing the voice of his young prince.
+
+Prince Andrew in his riding cloak, mounted on a black horse, was looking
+at Alpatych from the back of the crowd.
+
+"Why are you here?" he asked.
+
+"Your... your excellency," stammered Alpatych and broke into sobs. "Are
+we really lost? Master!..."
+
+"Why are you here?" Prince Andrew repeated.
+
+At that moment the flames flared up and showed his young master's pale
+worn face. Alpatych told how he had been sent there and how difficult it
+was to get away.
+
+"Are we really quite lost, your excellency?" he asked again.
+
+Prince Andrew without replying took out a notebook and raising his knee
+began writing in pencil on a page he tore out. He wrote to his sister:
+
+"Smolensk is being abandoned. Bald Hills will be occupied by the enemy
+within a week. Set off immediately for Moscow. Let me know at once when
+you will start. Send by special messenger to Usvyazh."
+
+Having written this and given the paper to Alpatych, he told him how to
+arrange for departure of the prince, the princess, his son, and the
+boy's tutor, and how and where to let him know immediately. Before he
+had had time to finish giving these instructions, a chief of staff
+followed by a suite galloped up to him.
+
+"You are a colonel?" shouted the chief of staff with a German accent, in
+a voice familiar to Prince Andrew. "Houses are set on fire in your
+presence and you stand by! What does this mean? You will answer for it!"
+shouted Berg, who was now assistant to the chief of staff of the
+commander of the left flank of the infantry of the first army, a place,
+as Berg said, "very agreeable and well en evidence."
+
+Prince Andrew looked at him and without replying went on speaking to
+Alpatych.
+
+"So tell them that I shall await a reply till the tenth, and if by the
+tenth I don't receive news that they have all got away I shall have to
+throw up everything and come myself to Bald Hills."
+
+"Prince," said Berg, recognizing Prince Andrew, "I only spoke because I
+have to obey orders, because I always do obey exactly.... You must
+please excuse me," he went on apologetically.
+
+Something cracked in the flames. The fire died down for a moment and
+wreaths of black smoke rolled from under the roof. There was another
+terrible crash and something huge collapsed.
+
+"Ou-rou-rou!" yelled the crowd, echoing the crash of the collapsing roof
+of the barn, the burning grain in which diffused a cakelike aroma all
+around. The flames flared up again, lighting the animated, delighted,
+exhausted faces of the spectators.
+
+The man in the frieze coat raised his arms and shouted:
+
+"It's fine, lads! Now it's raging... It's fine!"
+
+"That's the owner himself," cried several voices.
+
+"Well then," continued Prince Andrew to Alpatych, "report to them as I
+have told you"; and not replying a word to Berg who was now mute beside
+him, he touched his horse and rode down the side street.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+From Smolensk the troops continued to retreat, followed by the enemy. On
+the tenth of August the regiment Prince Andrew commanded was marching
+along the highroad past the avenue leading to Bald Hills. Heat and
+drought had continued for more than three weeks. Each day fleecy clouds
+floated across the sky and occasionally veiled the sun, but toward
+evening the sky cleared again and the sun set in reddish-brown mist.
+Heavy night dews alone refreshed the earth. The unreaped corn was
+scorched and shed its grain. The marshes dried up. The cattle lowed from
+hunger, finding no food on the sun-parched meadows. Only at night and in
+the forests while the dew lasted was there any freshness. But on the
+road, the highroad along which the troops marched, there was no such
+freshness even at night or when the road passed through the forest; the
+dew was imperceptible on the sandy dust churned up more than six inches
+deep. As soon as day dawned the march began. The artillery and baggage
+wagons moved noiselessly through the deep dust that rose to the very
+hubs of the wheels, and the infantry sank ankle-deep in that soft,
+choking, hot dust that never cooled even at night. Some of this dust was
+kneaded by the feet and wheels, while the rest rose and hung like a
+cloud over the troops, settling in eyes, ears, hair, and nostrils, and
+worst of all in the lungs of the men and beasts as they moved along that
+road. The higher the sun rose the higher rose that cloud of dust, and
+through the screen of its hot fine particles one could look with naked
+eye at the sun, which showed like a huge crimson ball in the unclouded
+sky. There was no wind, and the men choked in that motionless
+atmosphere. They marched with handkerchiefs tied over their noses and
+mouths. When they passed through a village they all rushed to the wells
+and fought for the water and drank it down to the mud.
+
+Prince Andrew was in command of a regiment, and the management of that
+regiment, the welfare of the men and the necessity of receiving and
+giving orders, engrossed him. The burning of Smolensk and its
+abandonment made an epoch in his life. A novel feeling of anger against
+the foe made him forget his own sorrow. He was entirely devoted to the
+affairs of his regiment and was considerate and kind to his men and
+officers. In the regiment they called him "our prince," were proud of
+him and loved him. But he was kind and gentle only to those of his
+regiment, to Timokhin and the like--people quite new to him, belonging
+to a different world and who could not know and understand his past. As
+soon as he came across a former acquaintance or anyone from the staff,
+he bristled up immediately and grew spiteful, ironical, and
+contemptuous. Everything that reminded him of his past was repugnant to
+him, and so in his relations with that former circle he confined himself
+to trying to do his duty and not to be unfair.
+
+In truth everything presented itself in a dark and gloomy light to
+Prince Andrew, especially after the abandonment of Smolensk on the sixth
+of August (he considered that it could and should have been defended)
+and after his sick father had had to flee to Moscow, abandoning to
+pillage his dearly beloved Bald Hills which he had built and peopled.
+But despite this, thanks to his regiment, Prince Andrew had something to
+think about entirely apart from general questions. Two days previously
+he had received news that his father, son, and sister had left for
+Moscow; and though there was nothing for him to do at Bald Hills, Prince
+Andrew with a characteristic desire to foment his own grief decided that
+he must ride there.
+
+He ordered his horse to be saddled and, leaving his regiment on the
+march, rode to his father's estate where he had been born and spent his
+childhood. Riding past the pond where there used always to be dozens of
+women chattering as they rinsed their linen or beat it with wooden
+beetles, Prince Andrew noticed that there was not a soul about and that
+the little washing wharf, torn from its place and half submerged, was
+floating on its side in the middle of the pond. He rode to the keeper's
+lodge. No one at the stone entrance gates of the drive and the door
+stood open. Grass had already begun to grow on the garden paths, and
+horses and calves were straying in the English park. Prince Andrew rode
+up to the hothouse; some of the glass panes were broken, and of the
+trees in tubs some were overturned and others dried up. He called for
+Taras the gardener, but no one replied. Having gone round the corner of
+the hothouse to the ornamental garden, he saw that the carved garden
+fence was broken and branches of the plum trees had been torn off with
+the fruit. An old peasant whom Prince Andrew in his childhood had often
+seen at the gate was sitting on a green garden seat, plaiting a bast
+shoe.
+
+He was deaf and did not hear Prince Andrew ride up. He was sitting on
+the seat the old prince used to like to sit on, and beside him strips of
+bast were hanging on the broken and withered branch of a magnolia.
+
+Prince Andrew rode up to the house. Several limes in the old garden had
+been cut down and a piebald mare and her foal were wandering in front of
+the house among the rosebushes. The shutters were all closed, except at
+one window which was open. A little serf boy, seeing Prince Andrew, ran
+into the house. Alpatych, having sent his family away, was alone at Bald
+Hills and was sitting indoors reading the Lives of the Saints. On
+hearing that Prince Andrew had come, he went out with his spectacles on
+his nose, buttoning his coat, and, hastily stepping up, without a word
+began weeping and kissing Prince Andrew's knee.
+
+Then, vexed at his own weakness, he turned away and began to report on
+the position of affairs. Everything precious and valuable had been
+removed to Bogucharovo. Seventy quarters of grain had also been carted
+away. The hay and the spring corn, of which Alpatych said there had been
+a remarkable crop that year, had been commandeered by the troops and
+mown down while still green. The peasants were ruined; some of them too
+had gone to Bogucharovo, only a few remained.
+
+Without waiting to hear him out, Prince Andrew asked:
+
+"When did my father and sister leave?" meaning when did they leave for
+Moscow.
+
+Alpatych, understanding the question to refer to their departure for
+Bogucharovo, replied that they had left on the seventh and again went
+into details concerning the estate management, asking for instructions.
+
+"Am I to let the troops have the oats, and to take a receipt for them?
+We have still six hundred quarters left," he inquired.
+
+"What am I to say to him?" thought Prince Andrew, looking down on the
+old man's bald head shining in the sun and seeing by the expression on
+his face that the old man himself understood how untimely such questions
+were and only asked them to allay his grief.
+
+"Yes, let them have it," replied Prince Andrew.
+
+"If you noticed some disorder in the garden," said Alpatych, "it was
+impossible to prevent it. Three regiments have been here and spent the
+night, dragoons mostly. I took down the name and rank of their
+commanding officer, to hand in a complaint about it."
+
+"Well, and what are you going to do? Will you stay here if the enemy
+occupies the place?" asked Prince Andrew.
+
+Alpatych turned his face to Prince Andrew, looked at him, and suddenly
+with a solemn gesture raised his arm.
+
+"He is my refuge! His will be done!" he exclaimed.
+
+A group of bareheaded peasants was approaching across the meadow toward
+the prince.
+
+"Well, good-by!" said Prince Andrew, bending over to Alpatych. "You must
+go away too, take away what you can and tell the serfs to go to the
+Ryazan estate or to the one near Moscow."
+
+Alpatych clung to Prince Andrew's leg and burst into sobs. Gently
+disengaging himself, the prince spurred his horse and rode down the
+avenue at a gallop.
+
+The old man was still sitting in the ornamental garden, like a fly
+impassive on the face of a loved one who is dead, tapping the last on
+which he was making the bast shoe, and two little girls, running out
+from the hot house carrying in their skirts plums they had plucked from
+the trees there, came upon Prince Andrew. On seeing the young master,
+the elder one with frightened look clutched her younger companion by the
+hand and hid with her behind a birch tree, not stopping to pick up some
+green plums they had dropped.
+
+Prince Andrew turned away with startled haste, unwilling to let them see
+that they had been observed. He was sorry for the pretty frightened
+little girl, was afraid of looking at her, and yet felt an irresistible
+desire to do so. A new sensation of comfort and relief came over him
+when, seeing these girls, he realized the existence of other human
+interests entirely aloof from his own and just as legitimate as those
+that occupied him. Evidently these girls passionately desired one thing-
+-to carry away and eat those green plums without being caught--and
+Prince Andrew shared their wish for the success of their enterprise. He
+could not resist looking at them once more. Believing their danger past,
+they sprang from their ambush and, chirruping something in their shrill
+little voices and holding up their skirts, their bare little sunburned
+feet scampered merrily and quickly across the meadow grass.
+
+Prince Andrew was somewhat refreshed by having ridden off the dusty
+highroad along which the troops were moving. But not far from Bald Hills
+he again came out on the road and overtook his regiment at its halting
+place by the dam of a small pond. It was past one o'clock. The sun, a
+red ball through the dust, burned and scorched his back intolerably
+through his black coat. The dust always hung motionless above the buzz
+of talk that came from the resting troops. There was no wind. As he
+crossed the dam Prince Andrew smelled the ooze and freshness of the
+pond. He longed to get into that water, however dirty it might be, and
+he glanced round at the pool from whence came sounds of shrieks and
+laughter. The small, muddy, green pond had risen visibly more than a
+foot, flooding the dam, because it was full of the naked white bodies of
+soldiers with brick-red hands, necks, and faces, who were splashing
+about in it. All this naked white human flesh, laughing and shrieking,
+floundered about in that dirty pool like carp stuffed into a watering
+can, and the suggestion of merriment in that floundering mass rendered
+it specially pathetic.
+
+One fair-haired young soldier of the third company, whom Prince Andrew
+knew and who had a strap round the calf of one leg, crossed himself,
+stepped back to get a good run, and plunged into the water; another, a
+dark noncommissioned officer who was always shaggy, stood up to his
+waist in the water joyfully wriggling his muscular figure and snorted
+with satisfaction as he poured the water over his head with hands
+blackened to the wrists. There were sounds of men slapping one another,
+yelling, and puffing.
+
+Everywhere on the bank, on the dam, and in the pond, there was healthy,
+white, muscular flesh. The officer, Timokhin, with his red little nose,
+standing on the dam wiping himself with a towel, felt confused at seeing
+the prince, but made up his mind to address him nevertheless.
+
+"It's very nice, your excellency! Wouldn't you like to?" said he.
+
+"It's dirty," replied Prince Andrew, making a grimace.
+
+"We'll clear it out for you in a minute," said Timokhin, and, still
+undressed, ran off to clear the men out of the pond.
+
+"The prince wants to bathe."
+
+"What prince? Ours?" said many voices, and the men were in such haste to
+clear out that the prince could hardly stop them. He decided that he
+would rather wash himself with water in the barn.
+
+"Flesh, bodies, cannon fodder!" he thought, and he looked at his own
+naked body and shuddered, not from cold but from a sense of disgust and
+horror he did not himself understand, aroused by the sight of that
+immense number of bodies splashing about in the dirty pond.
+
+On the seventh of August Prince Bagration wrote as follows from his
+quarters at Mikhaylovna on the Smolensk road:
+
+Dear Count Alexis Andreevich--(He was writing to Arakcheev but knew that
+his letter would be read by the Emperor, and therefore weighed every
+word in it to the best of his ability.)
+
+I expect the Minister (Barclay de Tolly) has already reported the
+abandonment of Smolensk to the enemy. It is pitiable and sad, and the
+whole army is in despair that this most important place has been
+wantonly abandoned. I, for my part, begged him personally most urgently
+and finally wrote him, but nothing would induce him to consent. I swear
+to you on my honor that Napoleon was in such a fix as never before and
+might have lost half his army but could not have taken Smolensk. Our
+troops fought, and are fighting, as never before. With fifteen thousand
+men I held the enemy at bay for thirty-five hours and beat him; but he
+would not hold out even for fourteen hours. It is disgraceful, a stain
+on our army, and as for him, he ought, it seems to me, not to live. If
+he reports that our losses were great, it is not true; perhaps about
+four thousand, not more, and not even that; but even were they ten
+thousand, that's war! But the enemy has lost masses...
+
+What would it have cost him to hold out for another two days? They would
+have had to retire of their own accord, for they had no water for men or
+horses. He gave me his word he would not retreat, but suddenly sent
+instructions that he was retiring that night. We cannot fight in this
+way, or we may soon bring the enemy to Moscow...
+
+There is a rumor that you are thinking of peace. God forbid that you
+should make peace after all our sacrifices and such insane retreats! You
+would set all Russia against you and every one of us would feel ashamed
+to wear the uniform. If it has come to this--we must fight as long as
+Russia can and as long as there are men able to stand...
+
+One man ought to be in command, and not two. Your Minister may perhaps
+be good as a Minister, but as a general he is not merely bad but
+execrable, yet to him is entrusted the fate of our whole country.... I
+am really frantic with vexation; forgive my writing boldly. It is clear
+that the man who advocates the conclusion of a peace, and that the
+Minister should command the army, does not love our sovereign and
+desires the ruin of us all. So I write you frankly: call out the
+militia. For the Minister is leading these visitors after him to Moscow
+in a most masterly way. The whole army feels great suspicion of the
+Imperial aide-de-camp Wolzogen. He is said to be more Napoleon's man
+than ours, and he is always advising the Minister. I am not merely civil
+to him but obey him like a corporal, though I am his senior. This is
+painful, but, loving my benefactor and sovereign, I submit. Only I am
+sorry for the Emperor that he entrusts our fine army to such as he.
+Consider that on our retreat we have lost by fatigue and left in the
+hospital more than fifteen thousand men, and had we attacked this would
+not have happened. Tell me, for God's sake, what will Russia, our mother
+Russia, say to our being so frightened, and why are we abandoning our
+good and gallant Fatherland to such rabble and implanting feelings of
+hatred and shame in all our subjects? What are we scared at and of whom
+are we afraid? I am not to blame that the Minister is vacillating, a
+coward, dense, dilatory, and has all bad qualities. The whole army
+bewails it and calls down curses upon him...
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+Among the innumerable categories applicable to the phenomena of human
+life one may discriminate between those in which substance prevails and
+those in which form prevails. To the latter--as distinguished from
+village, country, provincial, or even Moscow life--we may allot
+Petersburg life, and especially the life of its salons. That life of the
+salons is unchanging. Since the year 1805 we had made peace and had
+again quarreled with Bonaparte and had made constitutions and unmade
+them again, but the salons of Anna Pavlovna and Helene remained just as
+they had been--the one seven and the other five years before. At Anna
+Pavlovna's they talked with perplexity of Bonaparte's successes just as
+before and saw in them and in the subservience shown to him by the
+European sovereigns a malicious conspiracy, the sole object of which was
+to cause unpleasantness and anxiety to the court circle of which Anna
+Pavlovna was the representative. And in Helene's salon, which Rumyantsev
+himself honored with his visits, regarding Helene as a remarkably
+intelligent woman, they talked with the same ecstasy in 1812 as in 1808
+of the "great nation" and the "great man," and regretted our rupture
+with France, a rupture which, according to them, ought to be promptly
+terminated by peace.
+
+Of late, since the Emperor's return from the army, there had been some
+excitement in these conflicting salon circles and some demonstrations of
+hostility to one another, but each camp retained its own tendency. In
+Anna Pavlovna's circle only those Frenchmen were admitted who were deep-
+rooted legitimists, and patriotic views were expressed to the effect
+that one ought not to go to the French theater and that to maintain the
+French troupe was costing the government as much as a whole army corps.
+The progress of the war was eagerly followed, and only the reports most
+flattering to our army were circulated. In the French circle of Helene
+and Rumyantsev the reports of the cruelty of the enemy and of the war
+were contradicted and all Napoleon's attempts at conciliation were
+discussed. In that circle they discountenanced those who advised hurried
+preparations for a removal to Kazan of the court and the girls'
+educational establishments under the patronage of the Dowager Empress.
+In Helene's circle the war in general was regarded as a series of formal
+demonstrations which would very soon end in peace, and the view
+prevailed expressed by Bilibin--who now in Petersburg was quite at home
+in Helene's house, which every clever man was obliged to visit--that not
+by gunpowder but by those who invented it would matters be settled. In
+that circle the Moscow enthusiasm--news of which had reached Petersburg
+simultaneously with the Emperor's return--was ridiculed sarcastically
+and very cleverly, though with much caution.
+
+Anna Pavlovna's circle on the contrary was enraptured by this enthusiasm
+and spoke of it as Plutarch speaks of the deeds of the ancients. Prince
+Vasili, who still occupied his former important posts, formed a
+connecting link between these two circles. He visited his "good friend
+Anna Pavlovna" as well as his daughter's "diplomatic salon," and often
+in his constant comings and goings between the two camps became confused
+and said at Helene's what he should have said at Anna Pavlovna's and
+vice versa.
+
+Soon after the Emperor's return Prince Vasili in a conversation about
+the war at Anna Pavlovna's severely condemned Barclay de Tolly, but was
+undecided as to who ought to be appointed commander-in-chief. One of the
+visitors, usually spoken of as "a man of great merit," having described
+how he had that day seen Kutuzov, the newly chosen chief of the
+Petersburg militia, presiding over the enrollment of recruits at the
+Treasury, cautiously ventured to suggest that Kutuzov would be the man
+to satisfy all requirements.
+
+Anna Pavlovna remarked with a melancholy smile that Kutuzov had done
+nothing but cause the Emperor annoyance.
+
+"I have talked and talked at the Assembly of the Nobility," Prince
+Vasili interrupted, "but they did not listen to me. I told them his
+election as chief of the militia would not please the Emperor. They did
+not listen to me.
+
+"It's all this mania for opposition," he went on. "And who for? It is
+all because we want to ape the foolish enthusiasm of those Muscovites,"
+Prince Vasili continued, forgetting for a moment that though at Helene's
+one had to ridicule the Moscow enthusiasm, at Anna Pavlovna's one had to
+be ecstatic about it. But he retrieved his mistake at once. "Now, is it
+suitable that Count Kutuzov, the oldest general in Russia, should
+preside at that tribunal? He will get nothing for his pains! How could
+they make a man commander-in-chief who cannot mount a horse, who drops
+asleep at a council, and has the very worst morals! A good reputation he
+made for himself at Bucharest! I don't speak of his capacity as a
+general, but at a time like this how they appoint a decrepit, blind old
+man, positively blind? A fine idea to have a blind general! He can't see
+anything. To play blindman's bluff? He can't see at all!"
+
+No one replied to his remarks.
+
+This was quite correct on the twenty-fourth of July. But on the twenty-
+ninth of July Kutuzov received the title of Prince. This might indicate
+a wish to get rid of him, and therefore Prince Vasili's opinion
+continued to be correct though he was not now in any hurry to express
+it. But on the eighth of August a committee, consisting of Field Marshal
+Saltykov, Arakcheev, Vyazmitinov, Lopukhin, and Kochubey met to consider
+the progress of the war. This committee came to the conclusion that our
+failures were due to a want of unity in the command and though the
+members of the committee were aware of the Emperor's dislike of Kutuzov,
+after a short deliberation they agreed to advise his appointment as
+commander in chief. That same day Kutuzov was appointed commander-in-
+chief with full powers over the armies and over the whole region
+occupied by them.
+
+On the ninth of August Prince Vasili at Anna Pavlovna's again met the
+"man of great merit." The latter was very attentive to Anna Pavlovna
+because he wanted to be appointed director of one of the educational
+establishments for young ladies. Prince Vasili entered the room with the
+air of a happy conqueror who has attained the object of his desires.
+
+"Well, have you heard the great news? Prince Kutuzov is field marshal!
+All dissensions are at an end! I am so glad, so delighted! At last we
+have a man!" said he, glancing sternly and significantly round at
+everyone in the drawing room.
+
+The "man of great merit," despite his desire to obtain the post of
+director, could not refrain from reminding Prince Vasili of his former
+opinion. Though this was impolite to Prince Vasili in Anna Pavlovna's
+drawing room, and also to Anna Pavlovna herself who had received the
+news with delight, he could not resist the temptation.
+
+"But, Prince, they say he is blind!" said he, reminding Prince Vasili of
+his own words.
+
+"Eh? Nonsense! He sees well enough," said Prince Vasili rapidly, in a
+deep voice and with a slight cough--the voice and cough with which he
+was wont to dispose of all difficulties.
+
+"He sees well enough," he added. "And what I am so pleased about," he
+went on, "is that our sovereign has given him full powers over all the
+armies and the whole region--powers no commander-in-chief ever had
+before. He is a second autocrat," he concluded with a victorious smile.
+
+"God grant it! God grant it!" said Anna Pavlovna.
+
+The "man of great merit," who was still a novice in court circles,
+wishing to flatter Anna Pavlovna by defending her former position on
+this question, observed:
+
+"It is said that the Emperor was reluctant to give Kutuzov those powers.
+They say he blushed like a girl to whom Joconde is read, when he said to
+Kutuzov: 'Your Emperor and the Fatherland award you this honor.'"
+
+"Perhaps the heart took no part in that speech," said Anna Pavlovna.
+
+"Oh, no, no!" warmly rejoined Prince Vasili, who would not now yield
+Kutuzov to anyone; in his opinion Kutuzov was not only admirable
+himself, but was adored by everybody. "No, that's impossible," said he,
+"for our sovereign appreciated him so highly before."
+
+"God grant only that Prince Kutuzov assumes real power and does not
+allow anyone to put a spoke in his wheel," observed Anna Pavlovna.
+
+Understanding at once to whom she alluded, Prince Vasili said in a
+whisper:
+
+"I know for a fact that Kutuzov made it an absolute condition that the
+Tsarevich should not be with the army. Do you know what he said to the
+Emperor?"
+
+And Prince Vasili repeated the words supposed to have been spoken by
+Kutuzov to the Emperor. "I can neither punish him if he does wrong nor
+reward him if he does right."
+
+"Oh, a very wise man is Prince Kutuzov! I have known him a long time!"
+
+"They even say," remarked the "man of great merit" who did not yet
+possess courtly tact, "that his excellency made it an express condition
+that the sovereign himself should not be with the army."
+
+As soon as he said this both Prince Vasili and Anna Pavlovna turned away
+from him and glanced sadly at one another with a sigh at his naivete.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+While this was taking place in Petersburg the French had already passed
+Smolensk and were drawing nearer and nearer to Moscow. Napoleon's
+historian Thiers, like other of his historians, trying to justify his
+hero says that he was drawn to the walls of Moscow against his will. He
+is as right as other historians who look for the explanation of historic
+events in the will of one man; he is as right as the Russian historians
+who maintain that Napoleon was drawn to Moscow by the skill of the
+Russian commanders. Here besides the law of retrospection, which regards
+all the past as a preparation for events that subsequently occur, the
+law of reciprocity comes in, confusing the whole matter. A good
+chessplayer having lost a game is sincerely convinced that his loss
+resulted from a mistake he made and looks for that mistake in the
+opening, but forgets that at each stage of the game there were similar
+mistakes and that none of his moves were perfect. He only notices the
+mistake to which he pays attention, because his opponent took advantage
+of it. How much more complex than this is the game of war, which occurs
+under certain limits of time, and where it is not one will that
+manipulates lifeless objects, but everything results from innumerable
+conflicts of various wills!
+
+After Smolensk Napoleon sought a battle beyond Dorogobuzh at Vyazma, and
+then at Tsarevo-Zaymishche, but it happened that owing to a conjunction
+of innumerable circumstances the Russians could not give battle till
+they reached Borodino, seventy miles from Moscow. From Vyazma Napoleon
+ordered a direct advance on Moscow.
+
+Moscou, la capitale asiatique de ce grand empire, la ville sacree des
+peuples d'Alexandre, Moscou avec ses innombrables eglises en forme de
+pagodes chinoises, * this Moscow gave Napoleon's imagination no rest. On
+the march from Vyazma to Tsarevo-Zaymishche he rode his light bay
+bobtailed ambler accompanied by his Guards, his bodyguard, his pages,
+and aides-de-camp. Berthier, his chief of staff, dropped behind to
+question a Russian prisoner captured by the cavalry. Followed by
+Lelorgne d'Ideville, an interpreter, he overtook Napoleon at a gallop
+and reined in his horse with an amused expression.
+
+
+* "Moscow, the Asiatic capital of this great empire, the sacred city of
+Alexander's people, Moscow with its innumerable churches shaped like
+Chinese pagodas."
+
+"Well?" asked Napoleon.
+
+"One of Platov's Cossacks says that Platov's corps is joining up with
+the main army and that Kutuzov has been appointed commander-in-chief. He
+is a very shrewd and garrulous fellow."
+
+Napoleon smiled and told them to give the Cossack a horse and bring the
+man to him. He wished to talk to him himself. Several adjutants galloped
+off, and an hour later, Lavrushka, the serf Denisov had handed over to
+Rostov, rode up to Napoleon in an orderly's jacket and on a French
+cavalry saddle, with a merry, and tipsy face. Napoleon told him to ride
+by his side and began questioning him.
+
+"You are a Cossack?"
+
+"Yes, a Cossack, your Honor."
+
+"The Cossack, not knowing in what company he was, for Napoleon's plain
+appearance had nothing about it that would reveal to an Oriental mind
+the presence of a monarch, talked with extreme familiarity of the
+incidents of the war," says Thiers, narrating this episode. In reality
+Lavrushka, having got drunk the day before and left his master
+dinnerless, had been whipped and sent to the village in quest of
+chickens, where he engaged in looting till the French took him prisoner.
+Lavrushka was one of those coarse, bare-faced lackeys who have seen all
+sorts of things, consider it necessary to do everything in a mean and
+cunning way, are ready to render any sort of service to their master,
+and are keen at guessing their master's baser impulses, especially those
+prompted by vanity and pettiness.
+
+Finding himself in the company of Napoleon, whose identity he had easily
+and surely recognized, Lavrushka was not in the least abashed but merely
+did his utmost to gain his new master's favor.
+
+He knew very well that this was Napoleon, but Napoleon's presence could
+no more intimidate him than Rostov's, or a sergeant major's with the
+rods, would have done, for he had nothing that either the sergeant major
+or Napoleon could deprive him of.
+
+So he rattled on, telling all the gossip he had heard among the
+orderlies. Much of it true. But when Napoleon asked him whether the
+Russians thought they would beat Bonaparte or not, Lavrushka screwed up
+his eyes and considered.
+
+In this question he saw subtle cunning, as men of his type see cunning
+in everything, so he frowned and did not answer immediately.
+
+"It's like this," he said thoughtfully, "if there's a battle soon, yours
+will win. That's right. But if three days pass, then after that, well,
+then that same battle will not soon be over."
+
+Lelorgne d'Ideville smilingly interpreted this speech to Napoleon thus:
+"If a battle takes place within the next three days the French will win,
+but if later, God knows what will happen." Napoleon did not smile,
+though he was evidently in high good humor, and he ordered these words
+to be repeated.
+
+Lavrushka noticed this and to entertain him further, pretending not to
+know who Napoleon was, added:
+
+"We know that you have Bonaparte and that he has beaten everybody in the
+world, but we are a different matter..."--without knowing why or how
+this bit of boastful patriotism slipped out at the end.
+
+The interpreter translated these words without the last phrase, and
+Bonaparte smiled. "The young Cossack made his mighty interlocutor
+smile," says Thiers. After riding a few paces in silence, Napoleon
+turned to Berthier and said he wished to see how the news that he was
+talking to the Emperor himself, to that very Emperor who had written his
+immortally victorious name on the Pyramids, would affect this enfant du
+Don. *
+
+
+* "Child of the Don."
+
+The fact was accordingly conveyed to Lavrushka.
+
+Lavrushka, understanding that this was done to perplex him and that
+Napoleon expected him to be frightened, to gratify his new masters
+promptly pretended to be astonished and awe-struck, opened his eyes
+wide, and assumed the expression he usually put on when taken to be
+whipped. "As soon as Napoleon's interpreter had spoken," says Thiers,
+"the Cossack, seized by amazement, did not utter another word, but rode
+on, his eyes fixed on the conqueror whose fame had reached him across
+the steppes of the East. All his loquacity was suddenly arrested and
+replaced by a naive and silent feeling of admiration. Napoleon, after
+making the Cossack a present, had him set free like a bird restored to
+its native fields."
+
+Napoleon rode on, dreaming of the Moscow that so appealed to his
+imagination, and "the bird restored to its native fields" galloped to
+our outposts, inventing on the way all that had not taken place but that
+he meant to relate to his comrades. What had really taken place he did
+not wish to relate because it seemed to him not worth telling. He found
+the Cossacks, inquired for the regiment operating with Platov's
+detachment and by evening found his master, Nicholas Rostov, quartered
+at Yankovo. Rostov was just mounting to go for a ride round the
+neighboring villages with Ilyin; he let Lavrushka have another horse and
+took him along with him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+Princess Mary was not in Moscow and out of danger as Prince Andrew
+supposed.
+
+After the return of Alpatych from Smolensk the old prince suddenly
+seemed to awake as from a dream. He ordered the militiamen to be called
+up from the villages and armed, and wrote a letter to the commander-in-
+chief informing him that he had resolved to remain at Bald Hills to the
+last extremity and to defend it, leaving to the commander-in-chief's
+discretion to take measures or not for the defense of Bald Hills, where
+one of Russia's oldest generals would be captured or killed, and he
+announced to his household that he would remain at Bald Hills.
+
+But while himself remaining, he gave instructions for the departure of
+the princess and Dessalles with the little prince to Bogucharovo and
+thence to Moscow. Princess Mary, alarmed by her father's feverish and
+sleepless activity after his previous apathy, could not bring herself to
+leave him alone and for the first time in her life ventured to disobey
+him. She refused to go away and her father's fury broke over her in a
+terrible storm. He repeated every injustice he had ever inflicted on
+her. Trying to convict her, he told her she had worn him out, had caused
+his quarrel with his son, had harbored nasty suspicions of him, making
+it the object of her life to poison his existence, and he drove her from
+his study telling her that if she did not go away it was all the same to
+him. He declared that he did not wish to remember her existence and
+warned her not to dare to let him see her. The fact that he did not, as
+she had feared, order her to be carried away by force but only told her
+not to let him see her cheered Princess Mary. She knew it was a proof
+that in the depth of his soul he was glad she was remaining at home and
+had not gone away.
+
+The morning after little Nicholas had left, the old prince donned his
+full uniform and prepared to visit the commander-in-chief. His caleche
+was already at the door. Princess Mary saw him walk out of the house in
+his uniform wearing all his orders and go down the garden to review his
+armed peasants and domestic serfs. She sat by the window listening to
+his voice which reached her from the garden. Suddenly several men came
+running up the avenue with frightened faces.
+
+Princess Mary ran out to the porch, down the flower-bordered path, and
+into the avenue. A large crowd of militiamen and domestics were moving
+toward her, and in their midst several men were supporting by the
+armpits and dragging along a little old man in a uniform and
+decorations. She ran up to him and, in the play of the sunlight that
+fell in small round spots through the shade of the lime-tree avenue,
+could not be sure what change there was in his face. All she could see
+was that his former stern and determined expression had altered to one
+of timidity and submission. On seeing his daughter he moved his helpless
+lips and made a hoarse sound. It was impossible to make out what he
+wanted. He was lifted up, carried to his study, and laid on the very
+couch he had so feared of late.
+
+The doctor, who was fetched that same night, bled him and said that the
+prince had had a seizure paralyzing his right side.
+
+It was becoming more and more dangerous to remain at Bald Hills, and
+next day they moved the prince to Bogucharovo, the doctor accompanying
+him.
+
+By the time they reached Bogucharovo, Dessalles and the little prince
+had already left for Moscow.
+
+For three weeks the old prince lay stricken by paralysis in the new
+house Prince Andrew had built at Bogucharovo, ever in the same state,
+getting neither better nor worse. He was unconscious and lay like a
+distorted corpse. He muttered unceasingly, his eyebrows and lips
+twitching, and it was impossible to tell whether he understood what was
+going on around him or not. One thing was certain--that he was suffering
+and wished to say something. But what it was, no one could tell: it
+might be some caprice of a sick and half-crazy man, or it might relate
+to public affairs, or possibly to family concerns.
+
+The doctor said this restlessness did not mean anything and was due to
+physical causes; but Princess Mary thought he wished to tell her
+something, and the fact that her presence always increased his
+restlessness confirmed her opinion.
+
+He was evidently suffering both physically and mentally. There was no
+hope of recovery. It was impossible for him to travel, it would not do
+to let him die on the road. "Would it not be better if the end did come,
+the very end?" Princess Mary sometimes thought. Night and day, hardly
+sleeping at all, she watched him and, terrible to say, often watched him
+not with hope of finding signs of improvement but wishing to find
+symptoms of the approach of the end.
+
+Strange as it was to her to acknowledge this feeling in herself, yet
+there it was. And what seemed still more terrible to her was that since
+her father's illness began (perhaps even sooner, when she stayed with
+him expecting something to happen), all the personal desires and hopes
+that had been forgotten or sleeping within her had awakened. Thoughts
+that had not entered her mind for years--thoughts of a life free from
+the fear of her father, and even the possibility of love and of family
+happiness--floated continually in her imagination like temptations of
+the devil. Thrust them aside as she would, questions continually
+recurred to her as to how she would order her life now, after that.
+These were temptations of the devil and Princess Mary knew it. She knew
+that the sole weapon against him was prayer, and she tried to pray. She
+assumed an attitude of prayer, looked at the icons, repeated the words
+of a prayer, but she could not pray. She felt that a different world had
+now taken possession of her--the life of a world of strenuous and free
+activity, quite opposed to the spiritual world in which till now she had
+been confined and in which her greatest comfort had been prayer. She
+could not pray, could not weep, and worldly cares took possession of
+her.
+
+It was becoming dangerous to remain in Bogucharovo. News of the approach
+of the French came from all sides, and in one village, ten miles from
+Bogucharovo, a homestead had been looted by French marauders.
+
+The doctor insisted on the necessity of moving the prince; the
+provincial Marshal of the Nobility sent an official to Princess Mary to
+persuade her to get away as quickly as possible, and the head of the
+rural police having come to Bogucharovo urged the same thing, saying
+that the French were only some twenty-five miles away, that French
+proclamations were circulating in the villages, and that if the princess
+did not take her father away before the fifteenth, he could not answer
+for the consequences.
+
+The princess decided to leave on the fifteenth. The cares of preparation
+and giving orders, for which everyone came to her, occupied her all day.
+She spent the night of the fourteenth as usual, without undressing, in
+the room next to the one where the prince lay. Several times, waking up,
+she heard his groans and muttering, the creak of his bed, and the steps
+of Tikhon and the doctor when they turned him over. Several times she
+listened at the door, and it seemed to her that his mutterings were
+louder than usual and that they turned him over oftener. She could not
+sleep and several times went to the door and listened, wishing to enter
+but not deciding to do so. Though he did not speak, Princess Mary saw
+and knew how unpleasant every sign of anxiety on his account was to him.
+She had noticed with what dissatisfaction he turned from the look she
+sometimes involuntarily fixed on him. She knew that her going in during
+the night at an unusual hour would irritate him.
+
+But never had she felt so grieved for him or so much afraid of losing
+him. She recalled all her life with him and in every word and act of his
+found an expression of his love of her. Occasionally amid these memories
+temptations of the devil would surge into her imagination: thoughts of
+how things would be after his death, and how her new, liberated life
+would be ordered. But she drove these thoughts away with disgust. Toward
+morning he became quiet and she fell asleep.
+
+She woke late. That sincerity which often comes with waking showed her
+clearly what chiefly concerned her about her father's illness. On waking
+she listened to what was going on behind the door and, hearing him
+groan, said to herself with a sigh that things were still the same.
+
+"But what could have happened? What did I want? I want his death!" she
+cried with a feeling of loathing for herself.
+
+She washed, dressed, said her prayers, and went out to the porch. In
+front of it stood carriages without horses and things were being packed
+into the vehicles.
+
+It was a warm, gray morning. Princess Mary stopped at the porch, still
+horrified by her spiritual baseness and trying to arrange her thoughts
+before going to her father. The doctor came downstairs and went out to
+her.
+
+"He is a little better today," said he. "I was looking for you. One can
+make out something of what he is saying. His head is clearer. Come in,
+he is asking for you..."
+
+Princess Mary's heart beat so violently at this news that she grew pale
+and leaned against the wall to keep from falling. To see him, talk to
+him, feel his eyes on her now that her whole soul was overflowing with
+those dreadful, wicked temptations, was a torment of joy and terror.
+
+"Come," said the doctor.
+
+Princess Mary entered her father's room and went up to his bed. He was
+lying on his back propped up high, and his small bony hands with their
+knotted purple veins were lying on the quilt; his left eye gazed
+straight before him, his right eye was awry, and his brows and lips
+motionless. He seemed altogether so thin, small, and pathetic. His face
+seemed to have shriveled or melted; his features had grown smaller.
+Princess Mary went up and kissed his hand. His left hand pressed hers so
+that she understood that he had long been waiting for her to come. He
+twitched her hand, and his brows and lips quivered angrily.
+
+She looked at him in dismay trying to guess what he wanted of her. When
+she changed her position so that his left eye could see her face he
+calmed down, not taking his eyes off her for some seconds. Then his lips
+and tongue moved, sounds came, and he began to speak, gazing timidly and
+imploringly at her, evidently afraid that she might not understand.
+
+Straining all her faculties Princess Mary looked at him. The comic
+efforts with which he moved his tongue made her drop her eyes and with
+difficulty repress the sobs that rose to her throat. He said something,
+repeating the same words several times. She could not understand them,
+but tried to guess what he was saying and inquiringly repeated the words
+he uttered.
+
+"Mmm...ar...ate...ate..." he repeated several times.
+
+It was quite impossible to understand these sounds. The doctor thought
+he had guessed them, and inquiringly repeated: "Mary, are you afraid?"
+The prince shook his head, again repeated the same sounds.
+
+"My mind, my mind aches?" questioned Princess Mary.
+
+He made a mumbling sound in confirmation of this, took her hand, and
+began pressing it to different parts of his breast as if trying to find
+the right place for it.
+
+"Always thoughts... about you... thoughts..." he then uttered much more
+clearly than he had done before, now that he was sure of being
+understood.
+
+Princess Mary pressed her head against his hand, trying to hide her sobs
+and tears.
+
+He moved his hand over her hair.
+
+"I have been calling you all night..." he brought out.
+
+"If only I had known..." she said through her tears. "I was afraid to
+come in."
+
+He pressed her hand.
+
+"Weren't you asleep?"
+
+"No, I did not sleep," said Princess Mary, shaking her head.
+
+Unconsciously imitating her father, she now tried to express herself as
+he did, as much as possible by signs, and her tongue too seemed to move
+with difficulty.
+
+"Dear one... Dearest..." Princess Mary could not quite make out what he
+had said, but from his look it was clear that he had uttered a tender
+caressing word such as he had never used to her before. "Why didn't you
+come in?"
+
+"And I was wishing for his death!" thought Princess Mary.
+
+He was silent awhile.
+
+"Thank you... daughter dear!... for all, for all... forgive!... thank
+you!... forgive!... thank you!..." and tears began to flow from his
+eyes. "Call Andrew!" he said suddenly, and a childish, timid expression
+of doubt showed itself on his face as he spoke.
+
+He himself seemed aware that his demand was meaningless. So at least it
+seemed to Princess Mary.
+
+"I have a letter from him," she replied.
+
+He glanced at her with timid surprise.
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"He's with the army, Father, at Smolensk."
+
+He closed his eyes and remained silent a long time. Then as if in answer
+to his doubts and to confirm the fact that now he understood and
+remembered everything, he nodded his head and reopened his eyes.
+
+"Yes," he said, softly and distinctly. "Russia has perished. They've
+destroyed her."
+
+And he began to sob, and again tears flowed from his eyes. Princess Mary
+could no longer restrain herself and wept while she gazed at his face.
+
+Again he closed his eyes. His sobs ceased, he pointed to his eyes, and
+Tikhon, understanding him, wiped away the tears.
+
+Then he again opened his eyes and said something none of them could
+understand for a long time, till at last Tikhon understood and repeated
+it. Princess Mary had sought the meaning of his words in the mood in
+which he had just been speaking. She thought he was speaking of Russia,
+or Prince Andrew, of herself, of his grandson, or of his own death, and
+so she could not guess his words.
+
+"Put on your white dress. I like it," was what he said.
+
+Having understood this Princess Mary sobbed still louder, and the doctor
+taking her arm led her out to the veranda, soothing her and trying to
+persuade her to prepare for her journey. When she had left the room the
+prince again began speaking about his son, about the war, and about the
+Emperor, angrily twitching his brows and raising his hoarse voice, and
+then he had a second and final stroke.
+
+Princess Mary stayed on the veranda. The day had cleared, it was hot and
+sunny. She could understand nothing, think of nothing and feel nothing,
+except passionate love for her father, love such as she thought she had
+never felt till that moment. She ran out sobbing into the garden and as
+far as the pond, along the avenues of young lime trees Prince Andrew had
+planted.
+
+"Yes... I... I... I wished for his death! Yes, I wanted it to end
+quicker.... I wished to be at peace.... And what will become of me? What
+use will peace be when he is no longer here?" Princess Mary murmured,
+pacing the garden with hurried steps and pressing her hands to her bosom
+which heaved with convulsive sobs.
+
+When she had completed the tour of the garden, which brought her again
+to the house, she saw Mademoiselle Bourienne--who had remained at
+Bogucharovo and did not wish to leave it--coming toward her with a
+stranger. This was the Marshal of the Nobility of the district, who had
+come personally to point out to the princess the necessity for her
+prompt departure. Princess Mary listened without understanding him; she
+led him to the house, offered him lunch, and sat down with him. Then,
+excusing herself, she went to the door of the old prince's room. The
+doctor came out with an agitated face and said she could not enter.
+
+"Go away, Princess! Go away... go away!"
+
+She returned to the garden and sat down on the grass at the foot of the
+slope by the pond, where no one could see her. She did not know how long
+she had been there when she was aroused by the sound of a woman's
+footsteps running along the path. She rose and saw Dunyasha her maid,
+who was evidently looking for her, and who stopped suddenly as if in
+alarm on seeing her mistress.
+
+"Please come, Princess... The Prince," said Dunyasha in a breaking
+voice.
+
+"Immediately, I'm coming, I'm coming!" replied the princess hurriedly,
+not giving Dunyasha time to finish what she was saying, and trying to
+avoid seeing the girl she ran toward the house.
+
+"Princess, it's God's will! You must be prepared for everything," said
+the Marshal, meeting her at the house door.
+
+"Let me alone; it's not true!" she cried angrily to him.
+
+The doctor tried to stop her. She pushed him aside and ran to her
+father's door. "Why are these people with frightened faces stopping me?
+I don't want any of them! And what are they doing here?" she thought.
+She opened the door and the bright daylight in that previously darkened
+room startled her. In the room were her nurse and other women. They all
+drew back from the bed, making way for her. He was still lying on the
+bed as before, but the stern expression of his quiet face made Princess
+Mary stop short on the threshold.
+
+"No, he's not dead--it's impossible!" she told herself and approached
+him, and repressing the terror that seized her, she pressed her lips to
+his cheek. But she stepped back immediately. All the force of the
+tenderness she had been feeling for him vanished instantly and was
+replaced by a feeling of horror at what lay there before her. "No, he is
+no more! He is not, but here where he was is something unfamiliar and
+hostile, some dreadful, terrifying, and repellent mystery!" And hiding
+her face in her hands, Princess Mary sank into the arms of the doctor,
+who held her up.
+
+In the presence of Tikhon and the doctor the women washed what had been
+the prince, tied his head up with a handkerchief that the mouth should
+not stiffen while open, and with another handkerchief tied together the
+legs that were already spreading apart. Then they dressed him in uniform
+with his decorations and placed his shriveled little body on a table.
+Heaven only knows who arranged all this and when, but it all got done as
+if of its own accord. Toward night candles were burning round his
+coffin, a pall was spread over it, the floor was strewn with sprays of
+juniper, a printed band was tucked in under his shriveled head, and in a
+corner of the room sat a chanter reading the psalms.
+
+Just as horses shy and snort and gather about a dead horse, so the
+inmates of the house and strangers crowded into the drawing room round
+the coffin--the Marshal, the village Elder, peasant women--and all with
+fixed and frightened eyes, crossing themselves, bowed and kissed the old
+prince's cold and stiffened hand.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+Until Prince Andrew settled in Bogucharovo its owners had always been
+absentees, and its peasants were of quite a different character from
+those of Bald Hills. They differed from them in speech, dress, and
+disposition. They were called steppe peasants. The old prince used to
+approve of them for their endurance at work when they came to Bald Hills
+to help with the harvest or to dig ponds, and ditches, but he disliked
+them for their boorishness.
+
+Prince Andrew's last stay at Bogucharovo, when he introduced hospitals
+and schools and reduced the quitrent the peasants had to pay, had not
+softened their disposition but had on the contrary strengthened in them
+the traits of character the old prince called boorishness. Various
+obscure rumors were always current among them: at one time a rumor that
+they would all be enrolled as Cossacks; at another of a new religion to
+which they were all to be converted; then of some proclamation of the
+Tsar's and of an oath to the Tsar Paul in 1797 (in connection with which
+it was rumored that freedom had been granted them but the landowners had
+stopped it), then of Peter Fedorovich's return to the throne in seven
+years' time, when everything would be made free and so "simple" that
+there would be no restrictions. Rumors of the war with Bonaparte and his
+invasion were connected in their minds with the same sort of vague
+notions of Antichrist, the end of the world, and "pure freedom."
+
+In the vicinity of Bogucharovo were large villages belonging to the
+crown or to owners whose serfs paid quitrent and could work where they
+pleased. There were very few resident landlords in the neighborhood and
+also very few domestic or literate serfs, and in the lives of the
+peasantry of those parts the mysterious undercurrents in the life of the
+Russian people, the causes and meaning of which are so baffling to
+contemporaries, were more clearly and strongly noticeable than among
+others. One instance, which had occurred some twenty years before, was a
+movement among the peasants to emigrate to some unknown "warm rivers."
+Hundreds of peasants, among them the Bogucharovo folk, suddenly began
+selling their cattle and moving in whole families toward the southeast.
+As birds migrate to somewhere beyond the sea, so these men with their
+wives and children streamed to the southeast, to parts where none of
+them had ever been. They set off in caravans, bought their freedom one
+by one or ran away, and drove or walked toward the "warm rivers." Many
+of them were punished, some sent to Siberia, many died of cold and
+hunger on the road, many returned of their own accord, and the movement
+died down of itself just as it had sprung up, without apparent reason.
+But such undercurrents still existed among the people and gathered new
+forces ready to manifest themselves just as strangely, unexpectedly, and
+at the same time simply, naturally, and forcibly. Now in 1812, to anyone
+living in close touch with these people it was apparent that these
+undercurrents were acting strongly and nearing an eruption.
+
+Alpatych, who had reached Bogucharovo shortly before the old prince's
+death, noticed an agitation among the peasants, and that contrary to
+what was happening in the Bald Hills district, where over a radius of
+forty miles all the peasants were moving away and leaving their villages
+to be devastated by the Cossacks, the peasants in the steppe region
+round Bogucharovo were, it was rumored, in touch with the French,
+received leaflets from them that passed from hand to hand, and did not
+migrate. He learned from domestic serfs loyal to him that the peasant
+Karp, who possessed great influence in the village commune and had
+recently been away driving a government transport, had returned with
+news that the Cossacks were destroying deserted villages, but that the
+French did not harm them. Alpatych also knew that on the previous day
+another peasant had even brought from the village of Visloukhovo, which
+was occupied by the French, a proclamation by a French general that no
+harm would be done to the inhabitants, and if they remained they would
+be paid for anything taken from them. As proof of this the peasant had
+brought from Visloukhovo a hundred rubles in notes (he did not know that
+they were false) paid to him in advance for hay.
+
+More important still, Alpatych learned that on the morning of the very
+day he gave the village Elder orders to collect carts to move the
+princess' luggage from Bogucharovo, there had been a village meeting at
+which it had been decided not to move but to wait. Yet there was no time
+to waste. On the fifteenth, the day of the old prince's death, the
+Marshal had insisted on Princess Mary's leaving at once, as it was
+becoming dangerous. He had told her that after the sixteenth he could
+not be responsible for what might happen. On the evening of the day the
+old prince died the Marshal went away, promising to return next day for
+the funeral. But this he was unable to do, for he received tidings that
+the French had unexpectedly advanced, and had barely time to remove his
+own family and valuables from his estate.
+
+For some thirty years Bogucharovo had been managed by the village Elder,
+Dron, whom the old prince called by the diminutive "Dronushka."
+
+Dron was one of those physically and mentally vigorous peasants who grow
+big beards as soon as they are of age and go on unchanged till they are
+sixty or seventy, without a gray hair or the loss of a tooth, as
+straight and strong at sixty as at thirty.
+
+Soon after the migration to the "warm rivers," in which he had taken
+part like the rest, Dron was made village Elder and overseer of
+Bogucharovo, and had since filled that post irreproachably for twenty-
+three years. The peasants feared him more than they did their master.
+The masters, both the old prince and the young, and the steward
+respected him and jestingly called him "the Minister." During the whole
+time of his service Dron had never been drunk or ill, never after
+sleepless nights or the hardest tasks had he shown the least fatigue,
+and though he could not read he had never forgotten a single money
+account or the number of quarters of flour in any of the endless
+cartloads he sold for the prince, nor a single shock of the whole corn
+crop on any single acre of the Bogucharovo fields.
+
+Alpatych, arriving from the devastated Bald Hills estate, sent for his
+Dron on the day of the prince's funeral and told him to have twelve
+horses got ready for the princess' carriages and eighteen carts for the
+things to be removed from Bogucharovo. Though the peasants paid
+quitrent, Alpatych thought no difficulty would be made about complying
+with this order, for there were two hundred and thirty households at
+work in Bogucharovo and the peasants were well to do. But on hearing the
+order Dron lowered his eyes and remained silent. Alpatych named certain
+peasants he knew, from whom he told him to take the carts.
+
+Dron replied that the horses of these peasants were away carting.
+Alpatych named others, but they too, according to Dron, had no horses
+available: some horses were carting for the government, others were too
+weak, and others had died for want of fodder. It seemed that no horses
+could be had even for the carriages, much less for the carting.
+
+Alpatych looked intently at Dron and frowned. Just as Dron was a model
+village Elder, so Alpatych had not managed the prince's estates for
+twenty years in vain. He was a model steward, possessing in the highest
+degree the faculty of divining the needs and instincts of those he dealt
+with. Having glanced at Dron he at once understood that his answers did
+not express his personal views but the general mood of the Bogucharovo
+commune, by which the Elder had already been carried away. But he also
+knew that Dron, who had acquired property and was hated by the commune,
+must be hesitating between the two camps: the masters' and the serfs'.
+He noticed this hesitation in Dron's look and therefore frowned and
+moved closer up to him.
+
+"Now just listen, Dronushka," said he. "Don't talk nonsense to me. His
+excellency Prince Andrew himself gave me orders to move all the people
+away and not leave them with the enemy, and there is an order from the
+Tsar about it too. Anyone who stays is a traitor to the Tsar. Do you
+hear?"
+
+"I hear," Dron answered without lifting his eyes.
+
+Alpatych was not satisfied with this reply.
+
+"Eh, Dron, it will turn out badly!" he said, shaking his head.
+
+"The power is in your hands," Dron rejoined sadly.
+
+"Eh, Dron, drop it!" Alpatych repeated, withdrawing his hand from his
+bosom and solemnly pointing to the floor at Dron's feet. "I can see
+through you and three yards into the ground under you," he continued,
+gazing at the floor in front of Dron.
+
+Dron was disconcerted, glanced furtively at Alpatych and again lowered
+his eyes.
+
+"You drop this nonsense and tell the people to get ready to leave their
+homes and go to Moscow and to get carts ready for tomorrow morning for
+the princess' things. And don't go to any meeting yourself, do you
+hear?"
+
+Dron suddenly fell on his knees.
+
+"Yakov Alpatych, discharge me! Take the keys from me and discharge me,
+for Christ's sake!"
+
+"Stop that!" cried Alpatych sternly. "I see through you and three yards
+under you," he repeated, knowing that his skill in beekeeping, his
+knowledge of the right time to sow the oats, and the fact that he had
+been able to retain the old prince's favor for twenty years had long
+since gained him the reputation of being a wizard, and that the power of
+seeing three yards under a man is considered an attribute of wizards.
+
+Dron got up and was about to say something, but Alpatych interrupted
+him.
+
+"What is it you have got into your heads, eh?... What are you thinking
+of, eh?"
+
+"What am I to do with the people?" said Dron. "They're quite beside
+themselves; I have already told them..."
+
+"'Told them,' I dare say!" said Alpatych. "Are they drinking?" he asked
+abruptly.
+
+"Quite beside themselves, Yakov Alpatych; they've fetched another
+barrel."
+
+"Well, then, listen! I'll go to the police officer, and you tell them
+so, and that they must stop this and the carts must be got ready."
+
+"I understand."
+
+Alpatych did not insist further. He had managed people for a long time
+and knew that the chief way to make them obey is to show no suspicion
+that they can possibly disobey. Having wrung a submissive "I understand"
+from Dron, Alpatych contented himself with that, though he not only
+doubted but felt almost certain that without the help of troops the
+carts would not be forthcoming.
+
+And so it was, for when evening came no carts had been provided. In the
+village, outside the drink shop, another meeting was being held, which
+decided that the horses should be driven out into the woods and the
+carts should not be provided. Without saying anything of this to the
+princess, Alpatych had his own belongings taken out of the carts which
+had arrived from Bald Hills and had those horses got ready for the
+princess' carriages. Meanwhile he went himself to the police
+authorities.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+After her father's funeral Princess Mary shut herself up in her room and
+did not admit anyone. A maid came to the door to say that Alpatych was
+asking for orders about their departure. (This was before his talk with
+Dron.) Princess Mary raised herself on the sofa on which she had been
+lying and replied through the closed door that she did not mean to go
+away and begged to be left in peace.
+
+The windows of the room in which she was lying looked westward. She lay
+on the sofa with her face to the wall, fingering the buttons of the
+leather cushion and seeing nothing but that cushion, and her confused
+thoughts were centered on one subject--the irrevocability of death and
+her own spiritual baseness, which she had not suspected, but which had
+shown itself during her father's illness. She wished to pray but did not
+dare to, dared not in her present state of mind address herself to God.
+She lay for a long time in that position.
+
+The sun had reached the other side of the house, and its slanting rays
+shone into the open window, lighting up the room and part of the morocco
+cushion at which Princess Mary was looking. The flow of her thoughts
+suddenly stopped. Unconsciously she sat up, smoothed her hair, got up,
+and went to the window, involuntarily inhaling the freshness of the
+clear but windy evening.
+
+"Yes, you can well enjoy the evening now! He is gone and no one will
+hinder you," she said to herself, and sinking into a chair she let her
+head fall on the window sill.
+
+Someone spoke her name in a soft and tender voice from the garden and
+kissed her head. She looked up. It was Mademoiselle Bourienne in a black
+dress and weepers. She softly approached Princess Mary, sighed, kissed
+her, and immediately began to cry. The princess looked up at her. All
+their former disharmony and her own jealousy recurred to her mind. But
+she remembered too how he had changed of late toward Mademoiselle
+Bourienne and could not bear to see her, thereby showing how unjust were
+the reproaches Princess Mary had mentally addressed to her. "Besides, is
+it for me, for me who desired his death, to condemn anyone?" she
+thought.
+
+Princess Mary vividly pictured to herself the position of Mademoiselle
+Bourienne, whom she had of late kept at a distance, but who yet was
+dependent on her and living in her house. She felt sorry for her and
+held out her hand with a glance of gentle inquiry. Mademoiselle
+Bourienne at once began crying again and kissed that hand, speaking of
+the princess' sorrow and making herself a partner in it. She said her
+only consolation was the fact that the princess allowed her to share her
+sorrow, that all the old misunderstandings should sink into nothing but
+this great grief; that she felt herself blameless in regard to everyone,
+and that he, from above, saw her affection and gratitude. The princess
+heard her, not heeding her words but occasionally looking up at her and
+listening to the sound of her voice.
+
+"Your position is doubly terrible, dear princess," said Mademoiselle
+Bourienne after a pause. "I understand that you could not, and cannot,
+think of yourself, but with my love for you I must do so.... Has
+Alpatych been to you? Has he spoken to you of going away?" she asked.
+
+Princess Mary did not answer. She did not understand who was to go or
+where to. "Is it possible to plan or think of anything now? Is it not
+all the same?" she thought, and did not reply.
+
+"You know, chere Marie," said Mademoiselle Bourienne, "that we are in
+danger--are surrounded by the French. It would be dangerous to move now.
+If we go we are almost sure to be taken prisoners, and God knows..."
+
+Princess Mary looked at her companion without understanding what she was
+talking about.
+
+"Oh, if anyone knew how little anything matters to me now," she said.
+"Of course I would on no account wish to go away from him.... Alpatych
+did say something about going.... Speak to him; I can do nothing,
+nothing, and don't want to...."
+
+"I've spoken to him. He hopes we should be in time to get away tomorrow,
+but I think it would now be better to stay here," said Mademoiselle
+Bourienne. "Because, you will agree, chere Marie, to fall into the hands
+of the soldiers or of riotous peasants would be terrible."
+
+Mademoiselle Bourienne took from her reticule a proclamation (not
+printed on ordinary Russian paper) of General Rameau's, telling people
+not to leave their homes and that the French authorities would afford
+them proper protection. She handed this to the princess.
+
+"I think it would be best to appeal to that general," she continued,
+"and I am sure that all due respect would be shown you."
+
+Princess Mary read the paper, and her face began to quiver with stifled
+sobs.
+
+"From whom did you get this?" she asked.
+
+"They probably recognized that I am French, by my name," replied
+Mademoiselle Bourienne blushing.
+
+Princess Mary, with the paper in her hand, rose from the window and with
+a pale face went out of the room and into what had been Prince Andrew's
+study.
+
+"Dunyasha, send Alpatych, or Dronushka, or somebody to me!" she said,
+"and tell Mademoiselle Bourienne not to come to me," she added, hearing
+Mademoiselle Bourienne's voice. "We must go at once, at once!" she said,
+appalled at the thought of being left in the hands of the French.
+
+"If Prince Andrew heard that I was in the power of the French! That I,
+the daughter of Prince Nicholas Bolkonski, asked General Rameau for
+protection and accepted his favor!" This idea horrified her, made her
+shudder, blush, and feel such a rush of anger and pride as she had never
+experienced before. All that was distressing, and especially all that
+was humiliating, in her position rose vividly to her mind. "They, the
+French, would settle in this house: M. le General Rameau would occupy
+Prince Andrew's study and amuse himself by looking through and reading
+his letters and papers. Mademoiselle Bourienne would do the honors of
+Bogucharovo for him. I should be given a small room as a favor, the
+soldiers would violate my father's newly dug grave to steal his crosses
+and stars, they would tell me of their victories over the Russians, and
+would pretend to sympathize with my sorrow..." thought Princess Mary,
+not thinking her own thoughts but feeling bound to think like her father
+and her brother. For herself she did not care where she remained or what
+happened to her, but she felt herself the representative of her dead
+father and of Prince Andrew. Involuntarily she thought their thoughts
+and felt their feelings. What they would have said and what they would
+have done she felt bound to say and do. She went into Prince Andrew's
+study, trying to enter completely into his ideas, and considered her
+position.
+
+The demands of life, which had seemed to her annihilated by her father's
+death, all at once rose before her with a new, previously unknown force
+and took possession of her.
+
+Agitated and flushed she paced the room, sending now for Michael
+Ivanovich and now for Tikhon or Dron. Dunyasha, the nurse, and the other
+maids could not say in how far Mademoiselle Bourienne's statement was
+correct. Alpatych was not at home, he had gone to the police. Neither
+could the architect Michael Ivanovich, who on being sent for came in
+with sleepy eyes, tell Princess Mary anything. With just the same smile
+of agreement with which for fifteen years he had been accustomed to
+answer the old prince without expressing views of his own, he now
+replied to Princess Mary, so that nothing definite could be got from his
+answers. The old valet Tikhon, with sunken, emaciated face that bore the
+stamp of inconsolable grief, replied: "Yes, Princess" to all Princess
+Mary's questions and hardly refrained from sobbing as he looked at her.
+
+At length Dron, the village Elder, entered the room and with a deep bow
+to Princess Mary came to a halt by the doorpost.
+
+Princess Mary walked up and down the room and stopped in front of him.
+
+"Dronushka," she said, regarding as a sure friend this Dronushka who
+always used to bring a special kind of gingerbread from his visit to the
+fair at Vyazma every year and smilingly offer it to her, "Dronushka, now
+since our misfortune..." she began, but could not go on.
+
+"We are all in God's hands," said he, with a sigh.
+
+They were silent for a while.
+
+"Dronushka, Alpatych has gone off somewhere and I have no one to turn
+to. Is it true, as they tell me, that I can't even go away?"
+
+"Why shouldn't you go away, your excellency? You can go," said Dron.
+
+"I was told it would be dangerous because of the enemy. Dear friend, I
+can do nothing. I understand nothing. I have nobody! I want to go away
+tonight or early tomorrow morning."
+
+Dron paused. He looked askance at Princess Mary and said: "There are no
+horses; I told Yakov Alpatych so."
+
+"Why are there none?" asked the princess.
+
+"It's all God's scourge," said Dron. "What horses we had have been taken
+for the army or have died--this is such a year! It's not a case of
+feeding horses--we may die of hunger ourselves! As it is, some go three
+days without eating. We've nothing, we've been ruined."
+
+Princess Mary listened attentively to what he told her.
+
+"The peasants are ruined? They have no bread?" she asked.
+
+"They're dying of hunger," said Dron. "It's not a case of carting."
+
+"But why didn't you tell me, Dronushka? Isn't it possible to help them?
+I'll do all I can...."
+
+To Princess Mary it was strange that now, at a moment when such sorrow
+was filling her soul, there could be rich people and poor, and the rich
+could refrain from helping the poor. She had heard vaguely that there
+was such a thing as "landlord's corn" which was sometimes given to the
+peasants. She also knew that neither her father nor her brother would
+refuse to help the peasants in need, she only feared to make some
+mistake in speaking about the distribution of the grain she wished to
+give. She was glad such cares presented themselves, enabling her without
+scruple to forget her own grief. She began asking Dron about the
+peasants' needs and what there was in Bogucharovo that belonged to the
+landlord.
+
+"But we have grain belonging to my brother?" she said.
+
+"The landlord's grain is all safe," replied Dron proudly. "Our prince
+did not order it to be sold."
+
+"Give it to the peasants, let them have all they need; I give you leave
+in my brother's name," said she.
+
+Dron made no answer but sighed deeply.
+
+"Give them that corn if there is enough of it. Distribute it all. I give
+this order in my brother's name; and tell them that what is ours is
+theirs. We do not grudge them anything. Tell them so."
+
+Dron looked intently at the princess while she was speaking.
+
+"Discharge me, little mother, for God's sake! Order the keys to be taken
+from me," said he. "I have served twenty-three years and have done no
+wrong. Discharge me, for God's sake!"
+
+Princess Mary did not understand what he wanted of her or why he was
+asking to be discharged. She replied that she had never doubted his
+devotion and that she was ready to do anything for him and for the
+peasants.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+An hour later Dunyasha came to tell the princess that Dron had come, and
+all the peasants had assembled at the barn by the princess' order and
+wished to have word with their mistress.
+
+"But I never told them to come," said Princess Mary. "I only told Dron
+to let them have the grain."
+
+"Only, for God's sake, Princess dear, have them sent away and don't go
+out to them. It's all a trick," said Dunyasha, "and when Yakov Alpatych
+returns let us get away... and please don't..."
+
+"What is a trick?" asked Princess Mary in surprise.
+
+"I know it is, only listen to me for God's sake! Ask nurse too. They say
+they don't agree to leave Bogucharovo as you ordered."
+
+"You're making some mistake. I never ordered them to go away," said
+Princess Mary. "Call Dronushka."
+
+Dron came and confirmed Dunyasha's words; the peasants had come by the
+princess' order.
+
+"But I never sent for them," declared the princess. "You must have given
+my message wrong. I only said that you were to give them the grain."
+
+Dron only sighed in reply.
+
+"If you order it they will go away," said he.
+
+"No, no. I'll go out to them," said Princess Mary, and in spite of the
+nurse's and Dunyasha's protests she went out into the porch; Dron,
+Dunyasha, the nurse, and Michael Ivanovich following her.
+
+"They probably think I am offering them the grain to bribe them to
+remain here, while I myself go away leaving them to the mercy of the
+French," thought Princess Mary. "I will offer them monthly rations and
+housing at our Moscow estate. I am sure Andrew would do even more in my
+place," she thought as she went out in the twilight toward the crowd
+standing on the pasture by the barn.
+
+The men crowded closer together, stirred, and rapidly took off their
+hats. Princess Mary lowered her eyes and, tripping over her skirt, came
+close up to them. So many different eyes, old and young, were fixed on
+her, and there were so many different faces, that she could not
+distinguish any of them and, feeling that she must speak to them all at
+once, did not know how to do it. But again the sense that she
+represented her father and her brother gave her courage, and she boldly
+began her speech.
+
+"I am very glad you have come," she said without raising her eyes, and
+feeling her heart beating quickly and violently. "Dronushka tells me
+that the war has ruined you. That is our common misfortune, and I shall
+grudge nothing to help you. I am myself going away because it is
+dangerous here... the enemy is near... because... I am giving you
+everything, my friends, and I beg you to take everything, all our grain,
+so that you may not suffer want! And if you have been told that I am
+giving you the grain to keep you here--that is not true. On the
+contrary, I ask you to go with all your belongings to our estate near
+Moscow, and I promise you I will see to it that there you shall want for
+nothing. You shall be given food and lodging."
+
+The princess stopped. Sighs were the only sound heard in the crowd.
+
+"I am not doing this on my own account," she continued, "I do it in the
+name of my dead father, who was a good master to you, and of my brother
+and his son."
+
+Again she paused. No one broke the silence.
+
+"Ours is a common misfortune and we will share it together. All that is
+mine is yours," she concluded, scanning the faces before her.
+
+All eyes were gazing at her with one and the same expression. She could
+not fathom whether it was curiosity, devotion, gratitude, or
+apprehension and distrust--but the expression on all the faces was
+identical.
+
+"We are all very thankful for your bounty, but it won't do for us to
+take the landlord's grain," said a voice at the back of the crowd.
+
+"But why not?" asked the princess.
+
+No one replied and Princess Mary, looking round at the crowd, found that
+every eye she met now was immediately dropped.
+
+"But why don't you want to take it?" she asked again.
+
+No one answered.
+
+The silence began to oppress the princess and she tried to catch
+someone's eye.
+
+"Why don't you speak?" she inquired of a very old man who stood just in
+front of her leaning on his stick. "If you think something more is
+wanted, tell me! I will do anything," said she, catching his eye.
+
+But as if this angered him, he bent his head quite low and muttered:
+
+"Why should we agree? We don't want the grain."
+
+"Why should we give up everything? We don't agree. Don't agree.... We
+are sorry for you, but we're not willing. Go away yourself, alone..."
+came from various sides of the crowd.
+
+And again all the faces in that crowd bore an identical expression,
+though now it was certainly not an expression of curiosity or gratitude,
+but of angry resolve.
+
+"But you can't have understood me," said Princess Mary with a sad smile.
+"Why don't you want to go? I promise to house and feed you, while here
+the enemy would ruin you..."
+
+But her voice was drowned by the voices of the crowd.
+
+"We're not willing. Let them ruin us! We won't take your grain. We don't
+agree."
+
+Again Princess Mary tried to catch someone's eye, but not a single eye
+in the crowd was turned to her; evidently they were all trying to avoid
+her look. She felt strange and awkward.
+
+"Oh yes, an artful tale! Follow her into slavery! Pull down your houses
+and go into bondage! I dare say! 'I'll give you grain, indeed!' she
+says," voices in the crowd were heard saying.
+
+With drooping head Princess Mary left the crowd and went back to the
+house. Having repeated her order to Dron to have horses ready for her
+departure next morning, she went to her room and remained alone with her
+own thoughts.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+For a long time that night Princess Mary sat by the open window of her
+room hearing the sound of the peasants' voices that reached her from the
+village, but it was not of them she was thinking. She felt that she
+could not understand them however much she might think about them. She
+thought only of one thing, her sorrow, which, after the break caused by
+cares for the present, seemed already to belong to the past. Now she
+could remember it and weep or pray.
+
+After sunset the wind had dropped. The night was calm and fresh. Toward
+midnight the voices began to subside, a cock crowed, the full moon began
+to show from behind the lime trees, a fresh white dewy mist began to
+rise, and stillness reigned over the village and the house.
+
+Pictures of the near past--her father's illness and last moments--rose
+one after another to her memory. With mournful pleasure she now lingered
+over these images, repelling with horror only the last one, the picture
+of his death, which she felt she could not contemplate even in
+imagination at this still and mystic hour of night. And these pictures
+presented themselves to her so clearly and in such detail that they
+seemed now present, now past, and now future.
+
+She vividly recalled the moment when he had his first stroke and was
+being dragged along by his armpits through the garden at Bald Hills,
+muttering something with his helpless tongue, twitching his gray
+eyebrows and looking uneasily and timidly at her.
+
+"Even then he wanted to tell me what he told me the day he died," she
+thought. "He had always thought what he said then." And she recalled in
+all its detail the night at Bald Hills before he had the last stroke,
+when with a foreboding of disaster she had remained at home against his
+will. She had not slept and had stolen downstairs on tiptoe, and going
+to the door of the conservatory where he slept that night had listened
+at the door. In a suffering and weary voice he was saying something to
+Tikhon, speaking of the Crimea and its warm nights and of the Empress.
+Evidently he had wanted to talk. "And why didn't he call me? Why didn't
+he let me be there instead of Tikhon?" Princess Mary had thought and
+thought again now. "Now he will never tell anyone what he had in his
+soul. Never will that moment return for him or for me when he might have
+said all he longed to say, and not Tikhon but I might have heard and
+understood him. Why didn't I enter the room?" she thought. "Perhaps he
+would then have said to me what he said the day he died. While talking
+to Tikhon he asked about me twice. He wanted to see me, and I was
+standing close by, outside the door. It was sad and painful for him to
+talk to Tikhon who did not understand him. I remember how he began
+speaking to him about Lise as if she were alive--he had forgotten she
+was dead--and Tikhon reminded him that she was no more, and he shouted,
+'Fool!' He was greatly depressed. From behind the door I heard how he
+lay down on his bed groaning and loudly exclaimed, 'My God!' Why didn't
+I go in then? What could he have done to me? What could I have lost? And
+perhaps he would then have been comforted and would have said that word
+to me." And Princess Mary uttered aloud the caressing word he had said
+to her on the day of his death. "Dear-est!" she repeated, and began
+sobbing, with tears that relieved her soul. She now saw his face before
+her. And not the face she had known ever since she could remember and
+had always seen at a distance, but the timid, feeble face she had seen
+for the first time quite closely, with all its wrinkles and details,
+when she stooped near to his mouth to catch what he said.
+
+"Dear-est!" she repeated again.
+
+"What was he thinking when he uttered that word? What is he thinking
+now?" This question suddenly presented itself to her, and in answer she
+saw him before her with the expression that was on his face as he lay in
+his coffin with his chin bound up with a white handkerchief. And the
+horror that had seized her when she touched him and convinced herself
+that that was not he, but something mysterious and horrible, seized her
+again. She tried to think of something else and to pray, but could do
+neither. With wide-open eyes she gazed at the moonlight and the shadows,
+expecting every moment to see his dead face, and she felt that the
+silence brooding over the house and within it held her fast.
+
+"Dunyasha," she whispered. "Dunyasha!" she screamed wildly, and tearing
+herself out of this silence she ran to the servants' quarters to meet
+her old nurse and the maidservants who came running toward her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+On the seventeenth of August Rostov and Ilyin, accompanied by Lavrushka
+who had just returned from captivity and by an hussar orderly, left
+their quarters at Yankovo, ten miles from Bogucharovo, and went for a
+ride--to try a new horse Ilyin had bought and to find out whether there
+was any hay to be had in the villages.
+
+For the last three days Bogucharovo had lain between the two hostile
+armies, so that it was as easy for the Russian rearguard to get to it as
+for the French vanguard; Rostov, as a careful squadron commander, wished
+to take such provisions as remained at Bogucharovo before the French
+could get them.
+
+Rostov and Ilyin were in the merriest of moods. On the way to
+Bogucharovo, a princely estate with a dwelling house and farm where they
+hoped to find many domestic serfs and pretty girls, they questioned
+Lavrushka about Napoleon and laughed at his stories, and raced one
+another to try Ilyin's horse.
+
+Rostov had no idea that the village he was entering was the property of
+that very Bolkonski who had been engaged to his sister.
+
+Rostov and Ilyin gave rein to their horses for a last race along the
+incline before reaching Bogucharovo, and Rostov, outstripping Ilyin, was
+the first to gallop into the village street.
+
+"You're first!" cried Ilyin, flushed.
+
+"Yes, always first both on the grassland and here," answered Rostov,
+stroking his heated Donets horse.
+
+"And I'd have won on my Frenchy, your excellency," said Lavrushka from
+behind, alluding to his shabby cart horse, "only I didn't wish to
+mortify you."
+
+They rode at a footpace to the barn, where a large crowd of peasants was
+standing.
+
+Some of the men bared their heads, others stared at the new arrivals
+without doffing their caps. Two tall old peasants with wrinkled faces
+and scanty beards emerged from the tavern, smiling, staggering, and
+singing some incoherent song, and approached the officers.
+
+"Fine fellows!" said Rostov laughing. "Is there any hay here?"
+
+"And how like one another," said Ilyin.
+
+"A mo-o-st me-r-r-y co-o-m-pa...!" sang one of the peasants with a
+blissful smile.
+
+One of the men came out of the crowd and went up to Rostov.
+
+"Who do you belong to?" he asked.
+
+"The French," replied Ilyin jestingly, "and here is Napoleon himself"--
+and he pointed to Lavrushka.
+
+"Then you are Russians?" the peasant asked again.
+
+"And is there a large force of you here?" said another, a short man,
+coming up.
+
+"Very large," answered Rostov. "But why have you collected here?" he
+added. "Is it a holiday?"
+
+"The old men have met to talk over the business of the commune," replied
+the peasant, moving away.
+
+At that moment, on the road leading from the big house, two women and a
+man in a white hat were seen coming toward the officers.
+
+"The one in pink is mine, so keep off!" said Ilyin on seeing Dunyasha
+running resolutely toward him.
+
+"She'll be ours!" said Lavrushka to Ilyin, winking.
+
+"What do you want, my pretty?" said Ilyin with a smile.
+
+"The princess ordered me to ask your regiment and your name."
+
+"This is Count Rostov, squadron commander, and I am your humble
+servant."
+
+"Co-o-om-pa-ny!" roared the tipsy peasant with a beatific smile as he
+looked at Ilyin talking to the girl. Following Dunyasha, Alpatych
+advanced to Rostov, having bared his head while still at a distance.
+
+"May I make bold to trouble your honor?" said he respectfully, but with
+a shade of contempt for the youthfulness of this officer and with a hand
+thrust into his bosom. "My mistress, daughter of General in Chief Prince
+Nicholas Bolkonski who died on the fifteenth of this month, finding
+herself in difficulties owing to the boorishness of these people"--he
+pointed to the peasants--"asks you to come up to the house.... Won't
+you, please, ride on a little farther," said Alpatych with a melancholy
+smile, "as it is not convenient in the presence of...?" He pointed to
+the two peasants who kept as close to him as horseflies to a horse.
+
+"Ah!... Alpatych... Ah, Yakov Alpatych... Grand! Forgive us for Christ's
+sake, eh?" said the peasants, smiling joyfully at him.
+
+Rostov looked at the tipsy peasants and smiled.
+
+"Or perhaps they amuse your honor?" remarked Alpatych with a staid air,
+as he pointed at the old men with his free hand.
+
+"No, there's not much to be amused at here," said Rostov, and rode on a
+little way. "What's the matter?" he asked.
+
+"I make bold to inform your honor that the rude peasants here don't wish
+to let the mistress leave the estate, and threaten to unharness her
+horses, so that though everything has been packed up since morning, her
+excellency cannot get away."
+
+"Impossible!" exclaimed Rostov.
+
+"I have the honor to report to you the actual truth," said Alpatych.
+
+Rostov dismounted, gave his horse to the orderly, and followed Alpatych
+to the house, questioning him as to the state of affairs. It appeared
+that the princess' offer of corn to the peasants the previous day, and
+her talk with Dron and at the meeting, had actually had so bad an effect
+that Dron had finally given up the keys and joined the peasants and had
+not appeared when Alpatych sent for him; and that in the morning when
+the princess gave orders to harness for her journey, the peasants had
+come in a large crowd to the barn and sent word that they would not let
+her leave the village: that there was an order not to move, and that
+they would unharness the horses. Alpatych had gone out to admonish them,
+but was told (it was chiefly Karp who did the talking, Dron not showing
+himself in the crowd) that they could not let the princess go, that
+there was an order to the contrary, but that if she stayed they would
+serve her as before and obey her in everything.
+
+At the moment when Rostov and Ilyin were galloping along the road,
+Princess Mary, despite the dissuasions of Alpatych, her nurse, and the
+maids, had given orders to harness and intended to start, but when the
+cavalrymen were espied they were taken for Frenchmen, the coachman ran
+away, and the women in the house began to wail.
+
+"Father! Benefactor! God has sent you!" exclaimed deeply moved voices as
+Rostov passed through the anteroom.
+
+Princess Mary was sitting helpless and bewildered in the large sitting
+room, when Rostov was shown in. She could not grasp who he was and why
+he had come, or what was happening to her. When she saw his Russian
+face, and by his walk and the first words he uttered recognized him as a
+man of her own class, she glanced at him with her deep radiant look and
+began speaking in a voice that faltered and trembled with emotion. This
+meeting immediately struck Rostov as a romantic event. "A helpless girl
+overwhelmed with grief, left to the mercy of coarse, rioting peasants!
+And what a strange fate sent me here! What gentleness and nobility there
+are in her features and expression!" thought he as he looked at her and
+listened to her timid story.
+
+When she began to tell him that all this had happened the day after her
+father's funeral, her voice trembled. She turned away, and then, as if
+fearing he might take her words as meant to move him to pity, looked at
+him with an apprehensive glance of inquiry. There were tears in Rostov's
+eyes. Princess Mary noticed this and glanced gratefully at him with that
+radiant look which caused the plainness of her face to be forgotten.
+
+"I cannot express, Princess, how glad I am that I happened to ride here
+and am able to show my readiness to serve you," said Rostov, rising. "Go
+when you please, and I give you my word of honor that no one shall dare
+to cause you annoyance if only you will allow me to act as your escort."
+And bowing respectfully, as if to a lady of royal blood, he moved toward
+the door.
+
+Rostov's deferential tone seemed to indicate that though he would
+consider himself happy to be acquainted with her, he did not wish to
+take advantage of her misfortunes to intrude upon her.
+
+Princess Mary understood this and appreciated his delicacy.
+
+"I am very, very grateful to you," she said in French, "but I hope it
+was all a misunderstanding and that no one is to blame for it." She
+suddenly began to cry.
+
+"Excuse me!" she said.
+
+Rostov, knitting his brows, left the room with another low bow.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+"Well, is she pretty? Ah, friend--my pink one is delicious; her name is
+Dunyasha...."
+
+But on glancing at Rostov's face Ilyin stopped short. He saw that his
+hero and commander was following quite a different train of thought.
+
+Rostov glanced angrily at Ilyin and without replying strode off with
+rapid steps to the village.
+
+"I'll show them; I'll give it to them, the brigands!" said he to
+himself.
+
+Alpatych at a gliding trot, only just managing not to run, kept up with
+him with difficulty.
+
+"What decision have you been pleased to come to?" said he.
+
+Rostov stopped and, clenching his fists, suddenly and sternly turned on
+Alpatych.
+
+"Decision? What decision? Old dotard!..." cried he. "What have you been
+about? Eh? The peasants are rioting, and you can't manage them? You're a
+traitor yourself! I know you. I'll flay you all alive!..." And as if
+afraid of wasting his store of anger, he left Alpatych and went rapidly
+forward. Alpatych, mastering his offended feelings, kept pace with
+Rostov at a gliding gait and continued to impart his views. He said the
+peasants were obdurate and that at the present moment it would be
+imprudent to "overresist" them without an armed force, and would it not
+be better first to send for the military?
+
+"I'll give them armed force... I'll 'overresist' them!" uttered Rostov
+meaninglessly, breathless with irrational animal fury and the need to
+vent it.
+
+Without considering what he would do he moved unconciously with quick,
+resolute steps toward the crowd. And the nearer he drew to it the more
+Alpatych felt that this unreasonable action might produce good results.
+The peasants in the crowd were similarly impressed when they saw
+Rostov's rapid, firm steps and resolute, frowning face.
+
+After the hussars had come to the village and Rostov had gone to see the
+princess, a certain confusion and dissension had arisen among the crowd.
+Some of the peasants said that these new arrivals were Russians and
+might take it amiss that the mistress was being detained. Dron was of
+this opinion, but as soon as he expressed it Karp and others attacked
+their ex-Elder.
+
+"How many years have you been fattening on the commune?" Karp shouted at
+him. "It's all one to you! You'll dig up your pot of money and take it
+away with you.... What does it matter to you whether our homes are
+ruined or not?"
+
+"We've been told to keep order, and that no one is to leave their homes
+or take away a single grain, and that's all about it!" cried another.
+
+"It was your son's turn to be conscripted, but no fear! You begrudged
+your lump of a son," a little old man suddenly began attacking Dron--
+"and so they took my Vanka to be shaved for a soldier! But we all have
+to die."
+
+"To be sure, we all have to die. I'm not against the commune," said
+Dron.
+
+"That's it--not against it! You've filled your belly...."
+
+The two tall peasants had their say. As soon as Rostov, followed by
+Ilyin, Lavrushka, and Alpatych, came up to the crowd, Karp, thrusting
+his fingers into his belt and smiling a little, walked to the front.
+Dron on the contrary retired to the rear and the crowd drew closer
+together.
+
+"Who is your Elder here? Hey?" shouted Rostov, coming up to the crowd
+with quick steps.
+
+"The Elder? What do you want with him?..." asked Karp.
+
+But before the words were well out of his mouth, his cap flew off and a
+fierce blow jerked his head to one side.
+
+"Caps off, traitors!" shouted Rostov in a wrathful voice. "Where's the
+Elder?" he cried furiously.
+
+"The Elder.... He wants the Elder!... Dron Zakharych, you!" meek and
+flustered voices here and there were heard calling and caps began to
+come off their heads.
+
+"We don't riot, we're following the orders," declared Karp, and at that
+moment several voices began speaking together.
+
+"It's as the old men have decided--there's too many of you giving
+orders."
+
+"Arguing? Mutiny!... Brigands! Traitors!" cried Rostov unmeaningly in a
+voice not his own, gripping Karp by the collar. "Bind him, bind him!" he
+shouted, though there was no one to bind him but Lavrushka and Alpatych.
+
+Lavrushka, however, ran up to Karp and seized him by the arms from
+behind.
+
+"Shall I call up our men from beyond the hill?" he called out.
+
+Alpatych turned to the peasants and ordered two of them by name to come
+and bind Karp. The men obediently came out of the crowd and began taking
+off their belts.
+
+"Where's the Elder?" demanded Rostov in a loud voice.
+
+With a pale and frowning face Dron stepped out of the crowd.
+
+"Are you the Elder? Bind him, Lavrushka!" shouted Rostov, as if that
+order, too, could not possibly meet with any opposition.
+
+And in fact two more peasants began binding Dron, who took off his own
+belt and handed it to them, as if to aid them.
+
+"And you all listen to me!" said Rostov to the peasants. "Be off to your
+houses at once, and don't let one of your voices be heard!"
+
+"Why, we've not done any harm! We did it just out of foolishness. It's
+all nonsense... I said then that it was not in order," voices were heard
+bickering with one another.
+
+
+"There! What did I say?" said Alpatych, coming into his own again. "It's
+wrong, lads!"
+
+"All our stupidity, Yakov Alpatych," came the answers, and the crowd
+began at once to disperse through the village.
+
+The two bound men were led off to the master's house. The two drunken
+peasants followed them.
+
+"Aye, when I look at you!..." said one of them to Karp.
+
+"How can one talk to the masters like that? What were you thinking of,
+you fool?" added the other--"A real fool!"
+
+Two hours later the carts were standing in the courtyard of the
+Bogucharovo house. The peasants were briskly carrying out the
+proprietor's goods and packing them on the carts, and Dron, liberated at
+Princess Mary's wish from the cupboard where he had been confined, was
+standing in the yard directing the men.
+
+"Don't put it in so carelessly," said one of the peasants, a man with a
+round smiling face, taking a casket from a housemaid. "You know it has
+cost money! How can you chuck it in like that or shove it under the cord
+where it'll get rubbed? I don't like that way of doing things. Let it
+all be done properly, according to rule. Look here, put it under the
+bast matting and cover it with hay--that's the way!"
+
+"Eh, books, books!" said another peasant, bringing out Prince Andrew's
+library cupboards. "Don't catch up against it! It's heavy, lads--solid
+books."
+
+"Yes, they worked all day and didn't play!" remarked the tall, round-
+faced peasant gravely, pointing with a significant wink at the
+dictionaries that were on the top.
+
+Unwilling to obtrude himself on the princess, Rostov did not go back to
+the house but remained in the village awaiting her departure. When her
+carriage drove out of the house, he mounted and accompanied her eight
+miles from Bogucharovo to where the road was occupied by our troops. At
+the inn at Yankovo he respectfully took leave of her, for the first time
+permitting himself to kiss her hand.
+
+"How can you speak so!" he blushingly replied to Princess Mary's
+expressions of gratitude for her deliverance, as she termed what had
+occurred. "Any police officer would have done as much! If we had had
+only peasants to fight, we should not have let the enemy come so far,"
+said he with a sense of shame and wishing to change the subject. "I am
+only happy to have had the opportunity of making your acquaintance.
+Good-bye, Princess. I wish you happiness and consolation and hope to
+meet you again in happier circumstances. If you don't want to make me
+blush, please don't thank me!"
+
+But the princess, if she did not again thank him in words, thanked him
+with the whole expression of her face, radiant with gratitude and
+tenderness. She could not believe that there was nothing to thank him
+for. On the contrary, it seemed to her certain that had he not been
+there she would have perished at the hands of the mutineers and of the
+French, and that he had exposed himself to terrible and obvious danger
+to save her, and even more certain was it that he was a man of lofty and
+noble soul, able to understand her position and her sorrow. His kind,
+honest eyes, with the tears rising in them when she herself had begun to
+cry as she spoke of her loss, did not leave her memory.
+
+When she had taken leave of him and remained alone she suddenly felt her
+eyes filling with tears, and then not for the first time the strange
+question presented itself to her: did she love him?
+
+On the rest of the way to Moscow, though the princess' position was not
+a cheerful one, Dunyasha, who went with her in the carriage, more than
+once noticed that her mistress leaned out of the window and smiled at
+something with an expression of mingled joy and sorrow.
+
+"Well, supposing I do love him?" thought Princess Mary.
+
+Ashamed as she was of acknowledging to herself that she had fallen in
+love with a man who would perhaps never love her, she comforted herself
+with the thought that no one would ever know it and that she would not
+be to blame if, without ever speaking of it to anyone, she continued to
+the end of her life to love the man with whom she had fallen in love for
+the first and last time in her life.
+
+Sometimes when she recalled his looks, his sympathy, and his words,
+happiness did not appear impossible to her. It was at those moments that
+Dunyasha noticed her smiling as she looked out of the carriage window.
+
+"Was it not fate that brought him to Bogucharovo, and at that very
+moment?" thought Princess Mary. "And that caused his sister to refuse my
+brother?" And in all this Princess Mary saw the hand of Providence.
+
+The impression the princess made on Rostov was a very agreeable one. To
+remember her gave him pleasure, and when his comrades, hearing of his
+adventure at Bogucharovo, rallied him on having gone to look for hay and
+having picked up one of the wealthiest heiresses in Russia, he grew
+angry. It made him angry just because the idea of marrying the gentle
+Princess Mary, who was attractive to him and had an enormous fortune,
+had against his will more than once entered his head. For himself
+personally Nicholas could not wish for a better wife: by marrying her he
+would make the countess his mother happy, would be able to put his
+father's affairs in order, and would even--he felt it--ensure Princess
+Mary's happiness.
+
+But Sonya? And his plighted word? That was why Rostov grew angry when he
+was rallied about Princess Bolkonskaya.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+On receiving command of the armies Kutuzov remembered Prince Andrew and
+sent an order for him to report at headquarters.
+
+Prince Andrew arrived at Tsarevo-Zaymishche on the very day and at the
+very hour that Kutuzov was reviewing the troops for the first time. He
+stopped in the village at the priest's house in front of which stood the
+commander-in-chief's carriage, and he sat down on the bench at the gate
+awaiting his Serene Highness, as everyone now called Kutuzov. From the
+field beyond the village came now sounds of regimental music and now the
+roar of many voices shouting "Hurrah!" to the new commander-in-chief.
+Two orderlies, a courier and a major-domo, stood near by, some ten paces
+from Prince Andrew, availing themselves of Kutuzov's absence and of the
+fine weather. A short, swarthy lieutenant colonel of hussars with thick
+mustaches and whiskers rode up to the gate and, glancing at Prince
+Andrew, inquired whether his Serene Highness was putting up there and
+whether he would soon be back.
+
+Prince Andrew replied that he was not on his Serene Highness' staff but
+was himself a new arrival. The lieutenant colonel turned to a smart
+orderly, who, with the peculiar contempt with which a commander-in-
+chief's orderly speaks to officers, replied:
+
+"What? His Serene Highness? I expect he'll be here soon. What do you
+want?"
+
+The lieutenant colonel of hussars smiled beneath his mustache at the
+orderly's tone, dismounted, gave his horse to a dispatch runner, and
+approached Bolkonski with a slight bow. Bolkonski made room for him on
+the bench and the lieutenant colonel sat down beside him.
+
+"You're also waiting for the commander-in-chief?" said he. "They say he
+weceives evewyone, thank God!... It's awful with those sausage eaters!
+Ermolov had weason to ask to be pwomoted to be a German! Now p'waps
+Wussians will get a look in. As it was, devil only knows what was
+happening. We kept wetweating and wetweating. Did you take part in the
+campaign?" he asked.
+
+"I had the pleasure," replied Prince Andrew, "not only of taking part in
+the retreat but of losing in that retreat all I held dear--not to
+mention the estate and home of my birth--my father, who died of grief. I
+belong to the province of Smolensk."
+
+"Ah? You're Pwince Bolkonski? Vewy glad to make your acquaintance! I'm
+Lieutenant Colonel Denisov, better known as 'Vaska,'" said Denisov,
+pressing Prince Andrew's hand and looking into his face with a
+particularly kindly attention. "Yes, I heard," said he sympathetically,
+and after a short pause added: "Yes, it's Scythian warfare. It's all
+vewy well--only not for those who get it in the neck. So you are Pwince
+Andwew Bolkonski?" He swayed his head. "Vewy pleased, Pwince, to make
+your acquaintance!" he repeated again, smiling sadly, and he again
+pressed Prince Andrew's hand.
+
+Prince Andrew knew Denisov from what Natasha had told him of her first
+suitor. This memory carried him sadly and sweetly back to those painful
+feelings of which he had not thought lately, but which still found place
+in his soul. Of late he had received so many new and very serious
+impressions--such as the retreat from Smolensk, his visit to Bald Hills,
+and the recent news of his father's death--and had experienced so many
+emotions, that for a long time past those memories had not entered his
+mind, and now that they did, they did not act on him with nearly their
+former strength. For Denisov, too, the memories awakened by the name of
+Bolkonski belonged to a distant, romantic past, when after supper and
+after Natasha's singing he had proposed to a little girl of fifteen
+without realizing what he was doing. He smiled at the recollection of
+that time and of his love for Natasha, and passed at once to what now
+interested him passionately and exclusively. This was a plan of campaign
+he had devised while serving at the outposts during the retreat. He had
+proposed that plan to Barclay de Tolly and now wished to propose it to
+Kutuzov. The plan was based on the fact that the French line of
+operation was too extended, and it proposed that instead of, or
+concurrently with, action on the front to bar the advance of the French,
+we should attack their line of communication. He began explaining his
+plan to Prince Andrew.
+
+"They can't hold all that line. It's impossible. I will undertake to
+bweak thwough. Give me five hundwed men and I will bweak the line,
+that's certain! There's only one way--guewilla warfare!"
+
+Denisov rose and began gesticulating as he explained his plan to
+Bolkonski. In the midst of his explanation shouts were heard from the
+army, growing more incoherent and more diffused, mingling with music and
+songs and coming from the field where the review was held. Sounds of
+hoofs and shouts were nearing the village.
+
+"He's coming! He's coming!" shouted a Cossack standing at the gate.
+
+Bolkonski and Denisov moved to the gate, at which a knot of soldiers (a
+guard of honor) was standing, and they saw Kutuzov coming down the
+street mounted on a rather small sorrel horse. A huge suite of generals
+rode behind him. Barclay was riding almost beside him, and a crowd of
+officers ran after and around them shouting, "Hurrah!"
+
+His adjutants galloped into the yard before him. Kutuzov was impatiently
+urging on his horse, which ambled smoothly under his weight, and he
+raised his hand to his white Horse Guard's cap with a red band and no
+peak, nodding his head continually. When he came up to the guard of
+honor, a fine set of Grenadiers mostly wearing decorations, who were
+giving him the salute, he looked at them silently and attentively for
+nearly a minute with the steady gaze of a commander and then turned to
+the crowd of generals and officers surrounding him. Suddenly his face
+assumed a subtle expression, he shrugged his shoulders with an air of
+perplexity.
+
+"And with such fine fellows to retreat and retreat! Well, good-by,
+General," he added, and rode into the yard past Prince Andrew and
+Denisov.
+
+"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" shouted those behind him.
+
+Since Prince Andrew had last seen him Kutuzov had grown still more
+corpulent, flaccid, and fat. But the bleached eyeball, the scar, and the
+familiar weariness of his expression were still the same. He was wearing
+the white Horse Guard's cap and a military overcoat with a whip hanging
+over his shoulder by a thin strap. He sat heavily and swayed limply on
+his brisk little horse.
+
+"Whew... whew... whew!" he whistled just audibly as he rode into the
+yard. His face expressed the relief of relaxed strain felt by a man who
+means to rest after a ceremony. He drew his left foot out of the stirrup
+and, lurching with his whole body and puckering his face with the
+effort, raised it with difficulty onto the saddle, leaned on his knee,
+groaned, and slipped down into the arms of the Cossacks and adjutants
+who stood ready to assist him.
+
+He pulled himself together, looked round, screwing up his eyes, glanced
+at Prince Andrew, and, evidently not recognizing him, moved with his
+waddling gait to the porch. "Whew... whew... whew!" he whistled, and
+again glanced at Prince Andrew. As often occurs with old men, it was
+only after some seconds that the impression produced by Prince Andrew's
+face linked itself up with Kutuzov's remembrance of his personality.
+
+"Ah, how do you do, my dear prince? How do you do, my dear boy? Come
+along..." said he, glancing wearily round, and he stepped onto the porch
+which creaked under his weight.
+
+He unbuttoned his coat and sat down on a bench in the porch.
+
+"And how's your father?"
+
+"I received news of his death, yesterday," replied Prince Andrew
+abruptly.
+
+Kutuzov looked at him with eyes wide open with dismay and then took off
+his cap and crossed himself:
+
+"May the kingdom of Heaven be his! God's will be done to us all!" He
+sighed deeply, his whole chest heaving, and was silent for a while. "I
+loved him and respected him, and sympathize with you with all my heart."
+
+He embraced Prince Andrew, pressing him to his fat breast, and for some
+time did not let him go. When he released him Prince Andrew saw that
+Kutuzov's flabby lips were trembling and that tears were in his eyes. He
+sighed and pressed on the bench with both hands to raise himself.
+
+"Come! Come with me, we'll have a talk," said he.
+
+But at that moment Denisov, no more intimidated by his superiors than by
+the enemy, came with jingling spurs up the steps of the porch, despite
+the angry whispers of the adjutants who tried to stop him. Kutuzov, his
+hands still pressed on the seat, glanced at him glumly. Denisov, having
+given his name, announced that he had to communicate to his Serene
+Highness a matter of great importance for their country's welfare.
+Kutuzov looked wearily at him and, lifting his hands with a gesture of
+annoyance, folded them across his stomach, repeating the words: "For our
+country's welfare? Well, what is it? Speak!" Denisov blushed like a girl
+(it was strange to see the color rise in that shaggy, bibulous, time-
+worn face) and boldly began to expound his plan of cutting the enemy's
+lines of communication between Smolensk and Vyazma. Denisov came from
+those parts and knew the country well. His plan seemed decidedly a good
+one, especially from the strength of conviction with which he spoke.
+Kutuzov looked down at his own legs, occasionally glancing at the door
+of the adjoining hut as if expecting something unpleasant to emerge from
+it. And from that hut, while Denisov was speaking, a general with a
+portfolio under his arm really did appear.
+
+"What?" said Kutuzov, in the midst of Denisov's explanations, "are you
+ready so soon?"
+
+"Ready, your Serene Highness," replied the general.
+
+Kutuzov swayed his head, as much as to say: "How is one man to deal with
+it all?" and again listened to Denisov.
+
+"I give my word of honor as a Wussian officer," said Denisov, "that I
+can bweak Napoleon's line of communication!"
+
+"What relation are you to Intendant General Kiril Andreevich Denisov?"
+asked Kutuzov, interrupting him.
+
+"He is my uncle, your Sewene Highness."
+
+"Ah, we were friends," said Kutuzov cheerfully. "All right, all right,
+friend, stay here at the staff and tomorrow we'll have a talk."
+
+With a nod to Denisov he turned away and put out his hand for the papers
+Konovnitsyn had brought him.
+
+"Would not your Serene Highness like to come inside?" said the general
+on duty in a discontented voice, "the plans must be examined and several
+papers have to be signed."
+
+An adjutant came out and announced that everything was in readiness
+within. But Kutuzov evidently did not wish to enter that room till he
+was disengaged. He made a grimace...
+
+"No, tell them to bring a small table out here, my dear boy. I'll look
+at them here," said he. "Don't go away," he added, turning to Prince
+Andrew, who remained in the porch and listened to the general's report.
+
+While this was being given, Prince Andrew heard the whisper of a woman's
+voice and the rustle of a silk dress behind the door. Several times on
+glancing that way he noticed behind that door a plump, rosy, handsome
+woman in a pink dress with a lilac silk kerchief on her head, holding a
+dish and evidently awaiting the entrance of the commander-in-chief.
+Kutuzov's adjutant whispered to Prince Andrew that this was the wife of
+the priest whose home it was, and that she intended to offer his Serene
+Highness bread and salt. "Her husband has welcomed his Serene Highness
+with the cross at the church, and she intends to welcome him in the
+house.... She's very pretty," added the adjutant with a smile. At those
+words Kutuzov looked round. He was listening to the general's report--
+which consisted chiefly of a criticism of the position at Tsarevo-
+Zaymishche--as he had listened to Denisov, and seven years previously
+had listened to the discussion at the Austerlitz council of war. He
+evidently listened only because he had ears which, though there was a
+piece of tow in one of them, could not help hearing; but it was evident
+that nothing the general could say would surprise or even interest him,
+that he knew all that would be said beforehand, and heard it all only
+because he had to, as one has to listen to the chanting of a service of
+prayer. All that Denisov had said was clever and to the point. What the
+general was saying was even more clever and to the point, but it was
+evident that Kutuzov despised knowledge and cleverness, and knew of
+something else that would decide the matter--something independent of
+cleverness and knowledge. Prince Andrew watched the commander-in-chief's
+face attentively, and the only expression he could see there was one of
+boredom, curiosity as to the meaning of the feminine whispering behind
+the door, and a desire to observe propriety. It was evident that Kutuzov
+despised cleverness and learning and even the patriotic feeling shown by
+Denisov, but despised them not because of his own intellect, feelings,
+or knowledge--he did not try to display any of these--but because of
+something else. He despised them because of his old age and experience
+of life. The only instruction Kutuzov gave of his own accord during that
+report referred to looting by the Russian troops. At the end of the
+report the general put before him for signature a paper relating to the
+recovery of payment from army commanders for green oats mown down by the
+soldiers, when landowners lodged petitions for compensation.
+
+After hearing the matter, Kutuzov smacked his lips together and shook
+his head.
+
+"Into the stove... into the fire with it! I tell you once for all, my
+dear fellow," said he, "into the fire with all such things! Let them cut
+the crops and burn wood to their hearts' content. I don't order it or
+allow it, but I don't exact compensation either. One can't get on
+without it. 'When wood is chopped the chips will fly.'" He looked at the
+paper again. "Oh, this German precision!" he muttered, shaking his head.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+"Well, that's all!" said Kutuzov as he signed the last of the documents,
+and rising heavily and smoothing out the folds in his fat white neck he
+moved toward the door with a more cheerful expression.
+
+The priest's wife, flushing rosy red, caught up the dish she had after
+all not managed to present at the right moment, though she had so long
+been preparing for it, and with a low bow offered it to Kutuzov.
+
+He screwed up his eyes, smiled, lifted her chin with his hand, and said:
+
+"Ah, what a beauty! Thank you, sweetheart!"
+
+He took some gold pieces from his trouser pocket and put them on the
+dish for her. "Well, my dear, and how are we getting on?" he asked,
+moving to the door of the room assigned to him. The priest's wife
+smiled, and with dimples in her rosy cheeks followed him into the room.
+The adjutant came out to the porch and asked Prince Andrew to lunch with
+him. Half an hour later Prince Andrew was again called to Kutuzov. He
+found him reclining in an armchair, still in the same unbuttoned
+overcoat. He had in his hand a French book which he closed as Prince
+Andrew entered, marking the place with a knife. Prince Andrew saw by the
+cover that it was Les Chevaliers du Cygne by Madame de Genlis.
+
+"Well, sit down, sit down here. Let's have a talk," said Kutuzov. "It's
+sad, very sad. But remember, my dear fellow, that I am a father to you,
+a second father...."
+
+Prince Andrew told Kutuzov all he knew of his father's death, and what
+he had seen at Bald Hills when he passed through it.
+
+"What... what they have brought us to!" Kutuzov suddenly cried in an
+agitated voice, evidently picturing vividly to himself from Prince
+Andrew's story the condition Russia was in. "But give me time, give me
+time!" he said with a grim look, evidently not wishing to continue this
+agitating conversation, and added: "I sent for you to keep you with me."
+
+"I thank your Serene Highness, but I fear I am no longer fit for the
+staff," replied Prince Andrew with a smile which Kutuzov noticed.
+
+Kutuzov glanced inquiringly at him.
+
+"But above all," added Prince Andrew, "I have grown used to my regiment,
+am fond of the officers, and I fancy the men also like me. I should be
+sorry to leave the regiment. If I decline the honor of being with you,
+believe me..."
+
+A shrewd, kindly, yet subtly derisive expression lit up Kutuzov's podgy
+face. He cut Bolkonski short.
+
+"I am sorry, for I need you. But you're right, you're right! It's not
+here that men are needed. Advisers are always plentiful, but men are
+not. The regiments would not be what they are if the would-be advisers
+served there as you do. I remember you at Austerlitz.... I remember,
+yes, I remember you with the standard!" said Kutuzov, and a flush of
+pleasure suffused Prince Andrew's face at this recollection.
+
+Taking his hand and drawing him downwards, Kutuzov offered his cheek to
+be kissed, and again Prince Andrew noticed tears in the old man's eyes.
+Though Prince Andrew knew that Kutuzov's tears came easily, and that he
+was particularly tender to and considerate of him from a wish to show
+sympathy with his loss, yet this reminder of Austerlitz was both
+pleasant and flattering to him.
+
+"Go your way and God be with you. I know your path is the path of
+honor!" He paused. "I missed you at Bucharest, but I needed someone to
+send." And changing the subject, Kutuzov began to speak of the Turkish
+war and the peace that had been concluded. "Yes, I have been much
+blamed," he said, "both for that war and the peace... but everything
+came at the right time. Tout vient a point a celui qui sait attendre. *
+And there were as many advisers there as here..." he went on, returning
+to the subject of "advisers" which evidently occupied him. "Ah, those
+advisers!" said he. "If we had listened to them all we should not have
+made peace with Turkey and should not have been through with that war.
+Everything in haste, but more haste, less speed. Kamenski would have
+been lost if he had not died. He stormed fortresses with thirty thousand
+men. It is not difficult to capture a fortress but it is difficult to
+win a campaign. For that, not storming and attacking but patience and
+time are wanted. Kamenski sent soldiers to Rustchuk, but I only employed
+these two things and took more fortresses than Kamenski and made them
+Turks eat horseflesh!" He swayed his head. "And the French shall too,
+believe me," he went on, growing warmer and beating his chest, "I'll
+make them eat horseflesh!" And tears again dimmed his eyes.
+
+
+* "Everything comes in time to him who knows how to wait."
+
+"But shan't we have to accept battle?" remarked Prince Andrew.
+
+"We shall if everybody wants it; it can't be helped.... But believe me,
+my dear boy, there is nothing stronger than those two: patience and
+time, they will do it all. But the advisers n'entendent pas de cette
+oreille, voila le mal. * Some want a thing--others don't. What's one to
+do?" he asked, evidently expecting an answer. "Well, what do you want us
+to do?" he repeated and his eye shone with a deep, shrewd look. "I'll
+tell you what to do," he continued, as Prince Andrew still did not
+reply: "I will tell you what to do, and what I do. Dans le doute, mon
+cher," he paused, "abstiens-toi" *(2)--he articulated the French proverb
+deliberately.
+
+
+* "Don't see it that way, that's the trouble."
+
+* (2) "When in doubt, my dear fellow, do nothing."
+
+"Well, good-by, my dear fellow; remember that with all my heart I share
+your sorrow, and that for you I am not a Serene Highness, nor a prince,
+nor a commander-in-chief, but a father! If you want anything come
+straight to me. Good-bye, my dear boy."
+
+Again he embraced and kissed Prince Andrew, but before the latter had
+left the room Kutuzov gave a sigh of relief and went on with his
+unfinished novel, Les Chevaliers du Cygne by Madame de Genlis.
+
+Prince Andrew could not have explained how or why it was, but after that
+interview with Kutuzov he went back to his regiment reassured as to the
+general course of affairs and as to the man to whom it had been
+entrusted. The more he realized the absence of all personal motive in
+that old man--in whom there seemed to remain only the habit of passions,
+and in place of an intellect (grouping events and drawing conclusions)
+only the capacity calmly to contemplate the course of events--the more
+reassured he was that everything would be as it should. "He will not
+bring in any plan of his own. He will not devise or undertake anything,"
+thought Prince Andrew, "but he will hear everything, remember
+everything, and put everything in its place. He will not hinder anything
+useful nor allow anything harmful. He understands that there is
+something stronger and more important than his own will--the inevitable
+course of events, and he can see them and grasp their significance, and
+seeing that significance can refrain from meddling and renounce his
+personal wish directed to something else. And above all," thought Prince
+Andrew, "one believes in him because he's Russian, despite the novel by
+Genlis and the French proverbs, and because his voice shook when he
+said: 'What they have brought us to!' and had a sob in it when he said
+he would 'make them eat horseflesh!'"
+
+On such feelings, more or less dimly shared by all, the unanimity and
+general approval were founded with which, despite court influences, the
+popular choice of Kutuzov as commander-in-chief was received.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+After the Emperor had left Moscow, life flowed on there in its usual
+course, and its course was so very usual that it was difficult to
+remember the recent days of patriotic elation and ardor, hard to believe
+that Russia was really in danger and that the members of the English
+Club were also sons of the Fatherland ready to sacrifice everything for
+it. The one thing that recalled the patriotic fervor everyone had
+displayed during the Emperor's stay was the call for contributions of
+men and money, a necessity that as soon as the promises had been made
+assumed a legal, official form and became unavoidable.
+
+With the enemy's approach to Moscow, the Moscovites' view of their
+situation did not grow more serious but on the contrary became even more
+frivolous, as always happens with people who see a great danger
+approaching. At the approach of danger there are always two voices that
+speak with equal power in the human soul: one very reasonably tells a
+man to consider the nature of the danger and the means of escaping it;
+the other, still more reasonably, says that it is too depressing and
+painful to think of the danger, since it is not in man's power to
+foresee everything and avert the general course of events, and it is
+therefore better to disregard what is painful till it comes, and to
+think about what is pleasant. In solitude a man generally listens to the
+first voice, but in society to the second. So it was now with the
+inhabitants of Moscow. It was long since people had been as gay in
+Moscow as that year.
+
+Rostopchin's broadsheets, headed by woodcuts of a drink shop, a potman,
+and a Moscow burgher called Karpushka Chigirin, "who--having been a
+militiaman and having had rather too much at the pub--heard that
+Napoleon wished to come to Moscow, grew angry, abused the French in very
+bad language, came out of the drink shop, and, under the sign of the
+eagle, began to address the assembled people," were read and discussed,
+together with the latest of Vasili Lvovich Pushkin's bouts rimes.
+
+In the corner room at the club, members gathered to read these
+broadsheets, and some liked the way Karpushka jeered at the French,
+saying: "They will swell up with Russian cabbage, burst with our
+buckwheat porridge, and choke themselves with cabbage soup. They are all
+dwarfs and one peasant woman will toss three of them with a hayfork."
+Others did not like that tone and said it was stupid and vulgar. It was
+said that Rostopchin had expelled all Frenchmen and even all foreigners
+from Moscow, and that there had been some spies and agents of Napoleon
+among them; but this was told chiefly to introduce Rostopchin's witty
+remark on that occasion. The foreigners were deported to Nizhni by boat,
+and Rostopchin had said to them in French: "Rentrez en vousmemes; entrez
+dans la barque, et n'en faites pas une barque de Charon." * There was
+talk of all the government offices having been already removed from
+Moscow, and to this Shinshin's witticism was added--that for that alone
+Moscow ought to be grateful to Napoleon. It was said that Mamonov's
+regiment would cost him eight hundred thousand rubles, and that Bezukhov
+had spent even more on his, but that the best thing about Bezukhov's
+action was that he himself was going to don a uniform and ride at the
+head of his regiment without charging anything for the show.
+
+
+* "Think it over; get into the barque, and take care not to make it a
+barque of Charon."
+
+"You don't spare anyone," said Julie Drubetskaya as she collected and
+pressed together a bunch of raveled lint with her thin, beringed
+fingers.
+
+Julie was preparing to leave Moscow next day and was giving a farewell
+soiree.
+
+"Bezukhov est ridicule, but he is so kind and good-natured. What
+pleasure is there to be so caustique?"
+
+"A forfeit!" cried a young man in militia uniform whom Julie called "mon
+chevalier," and who was going with her to Nizhni.
+
+In Julie's set, as in many other circles in Moscow, it had been agreed
+that they would speak nothing but Russian and that those who made a slip
+and spoke French should pay fines to the Committee of Voluntary
+Contributions.
+
+"Another forfeit for a Gallicism," said a Russian writer who was
+present. "'What pleasure is there to be' is not Russian!"
+
+"You spare no one," continued Julie to the young man without heeding the
+author's remark.
+
+"For caustique--I am guilty and will pay, and I am prepared to pay again
+for the pleasure of telling you the truth. For Gallicisms I won't be
+responsible," she remarked, turning to the author: "I have neither the
+money nor the time, like Prince Galitsyn, to engage a master to teach me
+Russian!"
+
+"Ah, here he is!" she added. "Quand on... No, no," she said to the
+militia officer, "you won't catch me. Speak of the sun and you see its
+rays!" and she smiled amiably at Pierre. "We were just talking of you,"
+she said with the facility in lying natural to a society woman. "We were
+saying that your regiment would be sure to be better than Mamonov's."
+
+"Oh, don't talk to me of my regiment," replied Pierre, kissing his
+hostess' hand and taking a seat beside her. "I am so sick of it."
+
+"You will, of course, command it yourself?" said Julie, directing a sly,
+sarcastic glance toward the militia officer.
+
+The latter in Pierre's presence had ceased to be caustic, and his face
+expressed perplexity as to what Julie's smile might mean. In spite of
+his absent-mindedness and good nature, Pierre's personality immediately
+checked any attempt to ridicule him to his face.
+
+"No," said Pierre, with a laughing glance at his big, stout body. "I
+should make too good a target for the French, besides I am afraid I
+should hardly be able to climb onto a horse."
+
+Among those whom Julie's guests happened to choose to gossip about were
+the Rostovs.
+
+"I hear that their affairs are in a very bad way," said Julie. "And he
+is so unreasonable, the count himself I mean. The Razumovskis wanted to
+buy his house and his estate near Moscow, but it drags on and on. He
+asks too much."
+
+"No, I think the sale will come off in a few days," said someone.
+"Though it is madness to buy anything in Moscow now."
+
+"Why?" asked Julie. "You don't think Moscow is in danger?"
+
+"Then why are you leaving?"
+
+"I? What a question! I am going because... well, because everyone is
+going: and besides--I am not Joan of Arc or an Amazon."
+
+"Well, of course, of course! Let me have some more strips of linen."
+
+"If he manages the business properly he will be able to pay off all his
+debts," said the militia officer, speaking of Rostov.
+
+"A kindly old man but not up to much. And why do they stay on so long in
+Moscow? They meant to leave for the country long ago. Natalie is quite
+well again now, isn't she?" Julie asked Pierre with a knowing smile.
+
+"They are waiting for their younger son," Pierre replied. "He joined
+Obolenski's Cossacks and went to Belaya Tserkov where the regiment is
+being formed. But now they have had him transferred to my regiment and
+are expecting him every day. The count wanted to leave long ago, but the
+countess won't on any account leave Moscow till her son returns."
+
+"I met them the day before yesterday at the Arkharovs'. Natalie has
+recovered her looks and is brighter. She sang a song. How easily some
+people get over everything!"
+
+"Get over what?" inquired Pierre, looking displeased.
+
+Julie smiled.
+
+"You know, Count, such knights as you are only found in Madame de
+Souza's novels."
+
+"What knights? What do you mean?" demanded Pierre, blushing.
+
+"Oh, come, my dear count! C'est la fable de tout Moscou. Je vous admire,
+ma parole d'honneur!" *
+
+
+* "It is the talk of all Moscow. My word, I admire you!"
+
+"Forfeit, forfeit!" cried the militia officer.
+
+"All right, one can't talk--how tiresome!"
+
+"What is 'the talk of all Moscow'?" Pierre asked angrily, rising to his
+feet.
+
+"Come now, Count, you know!"
+
+"I don't know anything about it," said Pierre.
+
+"I know you were friendly with Natalie, and so... but I was always more
+friendly with Vera--that dear Vera."
+
+"No, madame!" Pierre continued in a tone of displeasure, "I have not
+taken on myself the role of Natalie Rostova's knight at all, and have
+not been to their house for nearly a month. But I cannot understand the
+cruelty..."
+
+"Qui s'excuse s'accuse," * said Julie, smiling and waving the lint
+triumphantly, and to have the last word she promptly changed the
+subject. "Do you know what I heard today? Poor Mary Bolkonskaya arrived
+in Moscow yesterday. Do you know that she has lost her father?"
+
+
+* "Who excuses himself, accuses himself."
+
+"Really? Where is she? I should like very much to see her," said Pierre.
+
+"I spent the evening with her yesterday. She is going to their estate
+near Moscow either today or tomorrow morning, with her nephew."
+
+"Well, and how is she?" asked Pierre.
+
+"She is well, but sad. But do you know who rescued her? It is quite a
+romance. Nicholas Rostov! She was surrounded, and they wanted to kill
+her and had wounded some of her people. He rushed in and saved her...."
+
+"Another romance," said the militia officer. "Really, this general
+flight has been arranged to get all the old maids married off. Catiche
+is one and Princess Bolkonskaya another."
+
+"Do you know, I really believe she is un petit peu amoureuse du jeune
+homme." *
+
+
+* "A little bit in love with the young man."
+
+"Forfeit, forfeit, forfeit!"
+
+"But how could one say that in Russian?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+When Pierre returned home he was handed two of Rostopchin's broadsheets
+that had been brought that day.
+
+The first declared that the report that Count Rostopchin had forbidden
+people to leave Moscow was false; on the contrary he was glad that
+ladies and tradesmen's wives were leaving the city. "There will be less
+panic and less gossip," ran the broadsheet "but I will stake my life on
+it that scoundrel will not enter Moscow." These words showed Pierre
+clearly for the first time that the French would enter Moscow. The
+second broadsheet stated that our headquarters were at Vyazma, that
+Count Wittgenstein had defeated the French, but that as many of the
+inhabitants of Moscow wished to be armed, weapons were ready for them at
+the arsenal: sabers, pistols, and muskets which could be had at a low
+price. The tone of the proclamation was not as jocose as in the former
+Chigirin talks. Pierre pondered over these broadsheets. Evidently the
+terrible stormcloud he had desired with the whole strength of his soul
+but which yet aroused involuntary horror in him was drawing near.
+
+"Shall I join the army and enter the service, or wait?" he asked himself
+for the hundredth time. He took a pack of cards that lay on the table
+and began to lay them out for a game of patience.
+
+"If this patience comes out," he said to himself after shuffling the
+cards, holding them in his hand, and lifting his head, "if it comes out,
+it means... what does it mean?"
+
+He had not decided what it should mean when he heard the voice of the
+eldest princess at the door asking whether she might come in.
+
+"Then it will mean that I must go to the army," said Pierre to himself.
+"Come in, come in!" he added to the princess.
+
+Only the eldest princess, the one with the stony face and long waist,
+was still living in Pierre's house. The two younger ones had both
+married.
+
+"Excuse my coming to you, cousin," she said in a reproachful and
+agitated voice. "You know some decision must be come to. What is going
+to happen? Everyone has left Moscow and the people are rioting. How is
+it that we are staying on?"
+
+"On the contrary, things seem satisfactory, ma cousine," said Pierre in
+the bantering tone he habitually adopted toward her, always feeling
+uncomfortable in the role of her benefactor.
+
+"Satisfactory, indeed! Very satisfactory! Barbara Ivanovna told me today
+how our troops are distinguishing themselves. It certainly does them
+credit! And the people too are quite mutinous--they no longer obey, even
+my maid has taken to being rude. At this rate they will soon begin
+beating us. One can't walk in the streets. But, above all, the French
+will be here any day now, so what are we waiting for? I ask just one
+thing of you, cousin," she went on, "arrange for me to be taken to
+Petersburg. Whatever I may be, I can't live under Bonaparte's rule."
+
+"Oh, come, ma cousine! Where do you get your information from? On the
+contrary..."
+
+"I won't submit to your Napoleon! Others may if they please.... If you
+don't want to do this..."
+
+"But I will, I'll give the order at once."
+
+The princess was apparently vexed at not having anyone to be angry with.
+Muttering to herself, she sat down on a chair.
+
+"But you have been misinformed," said Pierre. "Everything is quiet in
+the city and there is not the slightest danger. See! I've just been
+reading..." He showed her the broadsheet. "Count Rostopchin writes that
+he will stake his life on it that the enemy will not enter Moscow."
+
+"Oh, that count of yours!" said the princess malevolently. "He is a
+hypocrite, a rascal who has himself roused the people to riot. Didn't he
+write in those idiotic broadsheets that anyone, 'whoever it might be,
+should be dragged to the lockup by his hair'? (How silly!) 'And honor
+and glory to whoever captures him,' he says. This is what his cajolery
+has brought us to! Barbara Ivanovna told me the mob near killed her
+because she said something in French."
+
+"Oh, but it's so... You take everything so to heart," said Pierre, and
+began laying out his cards for patience.
+
+Although that patience did come out, Pierre did not join the army, but
+remained in deserted Moscow ever in the same state of agitation,
+irresolution, and alarm, yet at the same time joyfully expecting
+something terrible.
+
+Next day toward evening the princess set off, and Pierre's head steward
+came to inform him that the money needed for the equipment of his
+regiment could not be found without selling one of the estates. In
+general the head steward made out to Pierre that his project of raising
+a regiment would ruin him. Pierre listened to him, scarcely able to
+repress a smile.
+
+"Well then, sell it," said he. "What's to be done? I can't draw back
+now!"
+
+The worse everything became, especially his own affairs, the better was
+Pierre pleased and the more evident was it that the catastrophe he
+expected was approaching. Hardly anyone he knew was left in town. Julie
+had gone, and so had Princess Mary. Of his intimate friends only the
+Rostovs remained, but he did not go to see them.
+
+To distract his thoughts he drove that day to the village of Vorontsovo
+to see the great balloon Leppich was constructing to destroy the foe,
+and a trial balloon that was to go up next day. The balloon was not yet
+ready, but Pierre learned that it was being constructed by the Emperor's
+desire. The Emperor had written to Count Rostopchin as follows:
+
+As soon as Leppich is ready, get together a crew of reliable and
+intelligent men for his car and send a courier to General Kutuzov to let
+him know. I have informed him of the matter.
+
+Please impress upon Leppich to be very careful where he descends for the
+first time, that he may not make a mistake and fall into the enemy's
+hands. It is essential for him to combine his movements with those of
+the commander-in-chief.
+
+On his way home from Vorontsovo, as he was passing the Bolotnoe Place
+Pierre, seeing a large crowd round the Lobnoe Place, stopped and got out
+of his trap. A French cook accused of being a spy was being flogged. The
+flogging was only just over, and the executioner was releasing from the
+flogging bench a stout man with red whiskers, in blue stockings and a
+green jacket, who was moaning piteously. Another criminal, thin and
+pale, stood near. Judging by their faces they were both Frenchmen. With
+a frightened and suffering look resembling that on the thin Frenchman's
+face, Pierre pushed his way in through the crowd.
+
+"What is it? Who is it? What is it for?" he kept asking.
+
+But the attention of the crowd--officials, burghers, shopkeepers,
+peasants, and women in cloaks and in pelisses--was so eagerly centered
+on what was passing in Lobnoe Place that no one answered him. The stout
+man rose, frowned, shrugged his shoulders, and evidently trying to
+appear firm began to pull on his jacket without looking about him, but
+suddenly his lips trembled and he began to cry, in the way full-blooded
+grown-up men cry, though angry with himself for doing so. In the crowd
+people began talking loudly, to stifle their feelings of pity as it
+seemed to Pierre.
+
+"He's cook to some prince."
+
+"Eh, mounseer, Russian sauce seems to be sour to a Frenchman... sets his
+teeth on edge!" said a wrinkled clerk who was standing behind Pierre,
+when the Frenchman began to cry.
+
+The clerk glanced round, evidently hoping that his joke would be
+appreciated. Some people began to laugh, others continued to watch in
+dismay the executioner who was undressing the other man.
+
+Pierre choked, his face puckered, and he turned hastily away, went back
+to his trap muttering something to himself as he went, and took his
+seat. As they drove along he shuddered and exclaimed several times so
+audibly that the coachman asked him:
+
+"What is your pleasure?"
+
+"Where are you going?" shouted Pierre to the man, who was driving to
+Lubyanka Street.
+
+"To the Governor's, as you ordered," answered the coachman.
+
+"Fool! Idiot!" shouted Pierre, abusing his coachman--a thing he rarely
+did. "Home, I told you! And drive faster, blockhead!" "I must get away
+this very day," he murmured to himself.
+
+At the sight of the tortured Frenchman and the crowd surrounding the
+Lobnoe Place, Pierre had so definitely made up his mind that he could no
+longer remain in Moscow and would leave for the army that very day that
+it seemed to him that either he had told the coachman this or that the
+man ought to have known it for himself.
+
+On reaching home Pierre gave orders to Evstafey--his head coachman who
+knew everything, could do anything, and was known to all Moscow--that he
+would leave that night for the army at Mozhaysk, and that his saddle
+horses should be sent there. This could not all be arranged that day, so
+on Evstafey's representation Pierre had to put off his departure till
+next day to allow time for the relay horses to be sent on in advance.
+
+On the twenty-fourth the weather cleared up after a spell of rain, and
+after dinner Pierre left Moscow. When changing horses that night in
+Perkhushkovo, he learned that there had been a great battle that
+evening. (This was the battle of Shevardino.) He was told that there in
+Perkhushkovo the earth trembled from the firing, but nobody could answer
+his questions as to who had won. At dawn next day Pierre was approaching
+Mozhaysk.
+
+Every house in Mozhaysk had soldiers quartered in it, and at the hostel
+where Pierre was met by his groom and coachman there was no room to be
+had. It was full of officers.
+
+Everywhere in Mozhaysk and beyond it, troops were stationed or on the
+march. Cossacks, foot and horse soldiers, wagons, caissons, and cannon
+were everywhere. Pierre pushed forward as fast as he could, and the
+farther he left Moscow behind and the deeper he plunged into that sea of
+troops the more was he overcome by restless agitation and a new and
+joyful feeling he had not experienced before. It was a feeling akin to
+what he had felt at the Sloboda Palace during the Emperor's visit--a
+sense of the necessity of undertaking something and sacrificing
+something. He now experienced a glad consciousness that everything that
+constitutes men's happiness--the comforts of life, wealth, even life
+itself--is rubbish it is pleasant to throw away, compared with
+something... With what? Pierre could not say, and he did not try to
+determine for whom and for what he felt such particular delight in
+sacrificing everything. He was not occupied with the question of what to
+sacrifice for; the fact of sacrificing in itself afforded him a new and
+joyous sensation.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+On the twenty-fourth of August the battle of the Shevardino Redoubt was
+fought, on the twenty-fifth not a shot was fired by either side, and on
+the twenty-sixth the battle of Borodino itself took place.
+
+Why and how were the battles of Shevardino and Borodino given and
+accepted? Why was the battle of Borodino fought? There was not the least
+sense in it for either the French or the Russians. Its immediate result
+for the Russians was, and was bound to be, that we were brought nearer
+to the destruction of Moscow--which we feared more than anything in the
+world; and for the French its immediate result was that they were
+brought nearer to the destruction of their whole army--which they feared
+more than anything in the world. What the result must be was quite
+obvious, and yet Napoleon offered and Kutuzov accepted that battle.
+
+If the commanders had been guided by reason, it would seem that it must
+have been obvious to Napoleon that by advancing thirteen hundred miles
+and giving battle with a probability of losing a quarter of his army, he
+was advancing to certain destruction, and it must have been equally
+clear to Kutuzov that by accepting battle and risking the loss of a
+quarter of his army he would certainly lose Moscow. For Kutuzov this was
+mathematically clear, as it is that if when playing draughts I have one
+man less and go on exchanging, I shall certainly lose, and therefore
+should not exchange. When my opponent has sixteen men and I have
+fourteen, I am only one eighth weaker than he, but when I have exchanged
+thirteen more men he will be three times as strong as I am.
+
+Before the battle of Borodino our strength in proportion to the French
+was about as five to six, but after that battle it was little more than
+one to two: previously we had a hundred thousand against a hundred and
+twenty thousand; afterwards little more than fifty thousand against a
+hundred thousand. Yet the shrewd and experienced Kutuzov accepted the
+battle, while Napoleon, who was said to be a commander of genius, gave
+it, losing a quarter of his army and lengthening his lines of
+communication still more. If it is said that he expected to end the
+campaign by occupying Moscow as he had ended a previous campaign by
+occupying Vienna, there is much evidence to the contrary. Napoleon's
+historians themselves tell us that from Smolensk onwards he wished to
+stop, knew the danger of his extended position, and knew that the
+occupation of Moscow would not be the end of the campaign, for he had
+seen at Smolensk the state in which Russian towns were left to him, and
+had not received a single reply to his repeated announcements of his
+wish to negotiate.
+
+In giving and accepting battle at Borodino, Kutuzov acted involuntarily
+and irrationally. But later on, to fit what had occurred, the historians
+provided cunningly devised evidence of the foresight and genius of the
+generals who, of all the blind tools of history were the most enslaved
+and involuntary.
+
+The ancients have left us model heroic poems in which the heroes furnish
+the whole interest of the story, and we are still unable to accustom
+ourselves to the fact that for our epoch histories of that kind are
+meaningless.
+
+On the other question, how the battle of Borodino and the preceding
+battle of Shevardino were fought, there also exists a definite and well-
+known, but quite false, conception. All the historians describe the
+affair as follows:
+
+The Russian army, they say, in its retreat from Smolensk sought out for
+itself the best position for a general engagement and found such a
+position at Borodino.
+
+The Russians, they say, fortified this position in advance on the left
+of the highroad (from Moscow to Smolensk) and almost at a right angle to
+it, from Borodino to Utitsa, at the very place where the battle was
+fought.
+
+In front of this position, they say, a fortified outpost was set up on
+the Shevardino mound to observe the enemy. On the twenty-fourth, we are
+told, Napoleon attacked this advanced post and took it, and, on the
+twenty-sixth, attacked the whole Russian army, which was in position on
+the field of Borodino.
+
+So the histories say, and it is all quite wrong, as anyone who cares to
+look into the matter can easily convince himself.
+
+The Russians did not seek out the best position but, on the contrary,
+during the retreat passed many positions better than Borodino. They did
+not stop at any one of these positions because Kutuzov did not wish to
+occupy a position he had not himself chosen, because the popular demand
+for a battle had not yet expressed itself strongly enough, and because
+Miloradovich had not yet arrived with the militia, and for many other
+reasons. The fact is that other positions they had passed were stronger,
+and that the position at Borodino (the one where the battle was fought),
+far from being strong, was no more a position than any other spot one
+might find in the Russian Empire by sticking a pin into the map at
+hazard.
+
+Not only did the Russians not fortify the position on the field of
+Borodino to the left of, and at a right angle to, the highroad (that is,
+the position on which the battle took place), but never till the twenty-
+fifth of August, 1812, did they think that a battle might be fought
+there. This was shown first by the fact that there were no entrenchments
+there by the twenty fifth and that those begun on the twenty-fifth and
+twenty-sixth were not completed, and secondly, by the position of the
+Shevardino Redoubt. That redoubt was quite senseless in front of the
+position where the battle was accepted. Why was it more strongly
+fortified than any other post? And why were all efforts exhausted and
+six thousand men sacrificed to defend it till late at night on the
+twenty-fourth? A Cossack patrol would have sufficed to observe the
+enemy. Thirdly, as proof that the position on which the battle was
+fought had not been foreseen and that the Shevardino Redoubt was not an
+advanced post of that position, we have the fact that up to the twenty-
+fifth, Barclay de Tolly and Bagration were convinced that the Shevardino
+Redoubt was the left flank of the position, and that Kutuzov himself in
+his report, written in hot haste after the battle, speaks of the
+Shevardino Redoubt as the left flank of the position. It was much later,
+when reports on the battle of Borodino were written at leisure, that the
+incorrect and extraordinary statement was invented (probably to justify
+the mistakes of a commander-in-chief who had to be represented as
+infallible) that the Shevardino Redoubt was an advanced post--whereas in
+reality it was simply a fortified point on the left flank--and that the
+battle of Borodino was fought by us on an entrenched position previously
+selected, where as it was fought on a quite unexpected spot which was
+almost unentrenched.
+
+The case was evidently this: a position was selected along the river
+Kolocha--which crosses the highroad not at a right angle but at an acute
+angle--so that the left flank was at Shevardino, the right flank near
+the village of Novoe, and the center at Borodino at the confluence of
+the rivers Kolocha and Voyna.
+
+To anyone who looks at the field of Borodino without thinking of how the
+battle was actually fought, this position, protected by the river
+Kolocha, presents itself as obvious for an army whose object was to
+prevent an enemy from advancing along the Smolensk road to Moscow.
+
+Napoleon, riding to Valuevo on the twenty-fourth, did not see (as the
+history books say he did) the position of the Russians from Utitsa to
+Borodino (he could not have seen that position because it did not
+exist), nor did he see an advanced post of the Russian army, but while
+pursuing the Russian rearguard he came upon the left flank of the
+Russian position--at the Shevardino Redoubt--and unexpectedly for the
+Russians moved his army across the Kolocha. And the Russians, not having
+time to begin a general engagement, withdrew their left wing from the
+position they had intended to occupy and took up a new position which
+had not been foreseen and was not fortified. By crossing to the other
+side of the Kolocha to the left of the highroad, Napoleon shifted the
+whole forthcoming battle from right to left (looking from the Russian
+side) and transferred it to the plain between Utitsa, Semenovsk, and
+Borodino--a plain no more advantageous as a position than any other
+plain in Russia--and there the whole battle of the twenty-sixth of
+August took place.
+
+Had Napoleon not ridden out on the evening of the twenty-fourth to the
+Kolocha, and had he not then ordered an immediate attack on the redoubt
+but had begun the attack next morning, no one would have doubted that
+the Shevardino Redoubt was the left flank of our position, and the
+battle would have taken place where we expected it. In that case we
+should probably have defended the Shevardino Redoubt--our left flank--
+still more obstinately. We should have attacked Napoleon in the center
+or on the right, and the engagement would have taken place on the
+twenty-fifth, in the position we intended and had fortified. But as the
+attack on our left flank took place in the evening after the retreat of
+our rear guard (that is, immediately after the fight at Gridneva), and
+as the Russian commanders did not wish, or were not in time, to begin a
+general engagement then on the evening of the twenty-fourth, the first
+and chief action of the battle of Borodino was already lost on the
+twenty-fourth, and obviously led to the loss of the one fought on the
+twenty-sixth.
+
+After the loss of the Shevardino Redoubt, we found ourselves on the
+morning of the twenty-fifth without a position for our left flank, and
+were forced to bend it back and hastily entrench it where it chanced to
+be.
+
+Not only was the Russian army on the twenty-sixth defended by weak,
+unfinished entrenchments, but the disadvantage of that position was
+increased by the fact that the Russian commanders--not having fully
+realized what had happened, namely the loss of our position on the left
+flank and the shifting of the whole field of the forthcoming battle from
+right to left--maintained their extended position from the village of
+Novoe to Utitsa, and consequently had to move their forces from right to
+left during the battle. So it happened that throughout the whole battle
+the Russians opposed the entire French army launched against our left
+flank with but half as many men. (Poniatowski's action against Utitsa,
+and Uvarov's on the right flank against the French, were actions
+distinct from the main course of the battle.) So the battle of Borodino
+did not take place at all as (in an effort to conceal our commanders'
+mistakes even at the cost of diminishing the glory due to the Russian
+army and people) it has been described. The battle of Borodino was not
+fought on a chosen and entrenched position with forces only slightly
+weaker than those of the enemy, but, as a result of the loss of the
+Shevardino Redoubt, the Russians fought the battle of Borodino on an
+open and almost unentrenched position, with forces only half as numerous
+as the French; that is to say, under conditions in which it was not
+merely unthinkable to fight for ten hours and secure an indecisive
+result, but unthinkable to keep an army even from complete
+disintegration and flight.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+On the morning of the twenty-fifth Pierre was leaving Mozhaysk. At the
+descent of the high steep hill, down which a winding road led out of the
+town past the cathedral on the right, where a service was being held and
+the bells were ringing, Pierre got out of his vehicle and proceeded on
+foot. Behind him a cavalry regiment was coming down the hill preceded by
+its singers. Coming up toward him was a train of carts carrying men who
+had been wounded in the engagement the day before. The peasant drivers,
+shouting and lashing their horses, kept crossing from side to side. The
+carts, in each of which three or four wounded soldiers were lying or
+sitting, jolted over the stones that had been thrown on the steep
+incline to make it something like a road. The wounded, bandaged with
+rags, with pale cheeks, compressed lips, and knitted brows, held on to
+the sides of the carts as they were jolted against one another. Almost
+all of them stared with naive, childlike curiosity at Pierre's white hat
+and green swallow-tail coat.
+
+Pierre's coachman shouted angrily at the convoy of wounded to keep to
+one side of the road. The cavalry regiment, as it descended the hill
+with its singers, surrounded Pierre's carriage and blocked the road.
+Pierre stopped, being pressed against the side of the cutting in which
+the road ran. The sunshine from behind the hill did not penetrate into
+the cutting and there it was cold and damp, but above Pierre's head was
+the bright August sunshine and the bells sounded merrily. One of the
+carts with wounded stopped by the side of the road close to Pierre. The
+driver in his bast shoes ran panting up to it, placed a stone under one
+of its tireless hind wheels, and began arranging the breech-band on his
+little horse.
+
+One of the wounded, an old soldier with a bandaged arm who was following
+the cart on foot, caught hold of it with his sound hand and turned to
+look at Pierre.
+
+"I say, fellow countryman! Will they set us down here or take us on to
+Moscow?" he asked.
+
+Pierre was so deep in thought that he did not hear the question. He was
+looking now at the cavalry regiment that had met the convoy of wounded,
+now at the cart by which he was standing, in which two wounded men were
+sitting and one was lying. One of those sitting up in the cart had
+probably been wounded in the cheek. His whole head was wrapped in rags
+and one cheek was swollen to the size of a baby's head. His nose and
+mouth were twisted to one side. This soldier was looking at the
+cathedral and crossing himself. Another, a young lad, a fair-haired
+recruit as white as though there was no blood in his thin face, looked
+at Pierre kindly, with a fixed smile. The third lay prone so that his
+face was not visible. The cavalry singers were passing close by:
+
+
+Ah lost, quite lost... is my head so keen, Living in a foreign land.
+
+they sang their soldiers' dance song.
+
+As if responding to them but with a different sort of merriment, the
+metallic sound of the bells reverberated high above and the hot rays of
+the sun bathed the top of the opposite slope with yet another sort of
+merriment. But beneath the slope, by the cart with the wounded near the
+panting little nag where Pierre stood, it was damp, somber, and sad.
+
+The soldier with the swollen cheek looked angrily at the cavalry
+singers.
+
+"Oh, the coxcombs!" he muttered reproachfully.
+
+"It's not the soldiers only, but I've seen peasants today, too.... The
+peasants--even they have to go," said the soldier behind the cart,
+addressing Pierre with a sad smile. "No distinctions made nowadays....
+They want the whole nation to fall on them--in a word, it's Moscow! They
+want to make an end of it."
+
+In spite of the obscurity of the soldier's words Pierre understood what
+he wanted to say and nodded approval.
+
+The road was clear again; Pierre descended the hill and drove on.
+
+He kept looking to either side of the road for familiar faces, but only
+saw everywhere the unfamiliar faces of various military men of different
+branches of the service, who all looked with astonishment at his white
+hat and green tail coat.
+
+Having gone nearly three miles he at last met an acquaintance and
+eagerly addressed him. This was one of the head army doctors. He was
+driving toward Pierre in a covered gig, sitting beside a young surgeon,
+and on recognizing Pierre he told the Cossack who occupied the driver's
+seat to pull up.
+
+"Count! Your excellency, how come you to be here?" asked the doctor.
+
+"Well, you know, I wanted to see..."
+
+"Yes, yes, there will be something to see...."
+
+Pierre got out and talked to the doctor, explaining his intention of
+taking part in a battle.
+
+The doctor advised him to apply direct to Kutuzov.
+
+"Why should you be God knows where out of sight, during the battle?" he
+said, exchanging glances with his young companion. "Anyhow his Serene
+Highness knows you and will receive you graciously. That's what you must
+do."
+
+The doctor seemed tired and in a hurry.
+
+"You think so?... Ah, I also wanted to ask you where our position is
+exactly?" said Pierre.
+
+"The position?" repeated the doctor. "Well, that's not my line. Drive
+past Tatarinova, a lot of digging is going on there. Go up the hillock
+and you'll see."
+
+"Can one see from there?... If you would..."
+
+But the doctor interrupted him and moved toward his gig.
+
+"I would go with you but on my honor I'm up to here"--and he pointed to
+his throat. "I'm galloping to the commander of the corps. How do matters
+stand?... You know, Count, there'll be a battle tomorrow. Out of an army
+of a hundred thousand we must expect at least twenty thousand wounded,
+and we haven't stretchers, or bunks, or dressers, or doctors enough for
+six thousand. We have ten thousand carts, but we need other things as
+well--we must manage as best we can!"
+
+The strange thought that of the thousands of men, young and old, who had
+stared with merry surprise at his hat (perhaps the very men he had
+noticed), twenty thousand were inevitably doomed to wounds and death
+amazed Pierre.
+
+"They may die tomorrow; why are they thinking of anything but death?"
+And by some latent sequence of thought the descent of the Mozhaysk hill,
+the carts with the wounded, the ringing bells, the slanting rays of the
+sun, and the songs of the cavalrymen vividly recurred to his mind.
+
+"The cavalry ride to battle and meet the wounded and do not for a moment
+think of what awaits them, but pass by, winking at the wounded. Yet from
+among these men twenty thousand are doomed to die, and they wonder at my
+hat! Strange!" thought Pierre, continuing his way to Tatarinova.
+
+In front of a landowner's house to the left of the road stood carriages,
+wagons, and crowds of orderlies and sentinels. The commander-in-chief
+was putting up there, but just when Pierre arrived he was not in and
+hardly any of the staff were there--they had gone to the church service.
+Pierre drove on toward Gorki.
+
+When he had ascended the hill and reached the little village street, he
+saw for the first time peasant militiamen in their white shirts and with
+crosses on their caps, who, talking and laughing loudly, animated and
+perspiring, were at work on a huge knoll overgrown with grass to the
+right of the road.
+
+Some of them were digging, others were wheeling barrowloads of earth
+along planks, while others stood about doing nothing.
+
+Two officers were standing on the knoll, directing the men. On seeing
+these peasants, who were evidently still amused by the novelty of their
+position as soldiers, Pierre once more thought of the wounded men at
+Mozhaysk and understood what the soldier had meant when he said: "They
+want the whole nation to fall on them." The sight of these bearded
+peasants at work on the battlefield, with their queer, clumsy boots and
+perspiring necks, and their shirts opening from the left toward the
+middle, unfastened, exposing their sunburned collarbones, impressed
+Pierre more strongly with the solemnity and importance of the moment
+than anything he had yet seen or heard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+Pierre stepped out of his carriage and, passing the toiling militiamen,
+ascended the knoll from which, according to the doctor, the battlefield
+could be seen.
+
+It was about eleven o'clock. The sun shone somewhat to the left and
+behind him and brightly lit up the enormous panorama which, rising like
+an amphitheater, extended before him in the clear rarefied atmosphere.
+
+From above on the left, bisecting that amphitheater, wound the Smolensk
+highroad, passing through a village with a white church some five
+hundred paces in front of the knoll and below it. This was Borodino.
+Below the village the road crossed the river by a bridge and, winding
+down and up, rose higher and higher to the village of Valuevo visible
+about four miles away, where Napoleon was then stationed. Beyond Valuevo
+the road disappeared into a yellowing forest on the horizon. Far in the
+distance in that birch and fir forest to the right of the road, the
+cross and belfry of the Kolocha Monastery gleamed in the sun. Here and
+there over the whole of that blue expanse, to right and left of the
+forest and the road, smoking campfires could be seen and indefinite
+masses of troops--ours and the enemy's. The ground to the right--along
+the course of the Kolocha and Moskva rivers--was broken and hilly.
+Between the hollows the villages of Bezubova and Zakharino showed in the
+distance. On the left the ground was more level; there were fields of
+grain, and the smoking ruins of Semenovsk, which had been burned down,
+could be seen.
+
+All that Pierre saw was so indefinite that neither the left nor the
+right side of the field fully satisfied his expectations. Nowhere could
+he see the battlefield he had expected to find, but only fields,
+meadows, troops, woods, the smoke of campfires, villages, mounds, and
+streams; and try as he would he could descry no military "position" in
+this place which teemed with life, nor could he even distinguish our
+troops from the enemy's.
+
+"I must ask someone who knows," he thought, and addressed an officer who
+was looking with curiosity at his huge unmilitary figure.
+
+"May I ask you," said Pierre, "what village that is in front?"
+
+"Burdino, isn't it?" said the officer, turning to his companion.
+
+"Borodino," the other corrected him.
+
+The officer, evidently glad of an opportunity for a talk, moved up to
+Pierre.
+
+"Are those our men there?" Pierre inquired.
+
+"Yes, and there, further on, are the French," said the officer. "There
+they are, there... you can see them."
+
+"Where? Where?" asked Pierre.
+
+"One can see them with the naked eye... Why, there!"
+
+The officer pointed with his hand to the smoke visible on the left
+beyond the river, and the same stern and serious expression that Pierre
+had noticed on many of the faces he had met came into his face.
+
+"Ah, those are the French! And over there?..." Pierre pointed to a knoll
+on the left, near which some troops could be seen.
+
+"Those are ours."
+
+"Ah, ours! And there?..." Pierre pointed to another knoll in the
+distance with a big tree on it, near a village that lay in a hollow
+where also some campfires were smoking and something black was visible.
+
+"That's his again," said the officer. (It was the Shevardino Redoubt.)
+"It was ours yesterday, but now it is his."
+
+"Then how about our position?"
+
+"Our position?" replied the officer with a smile of satisfaction. "I can
+tell you quite clearly, because I constructed nearly all our
+entrenchments. There, you see? There's our center, at Borodino, just
+there," and he pointed to the village in front of them with the white
+church. "That's where one crosses the Kolocha. You see down there where
+the rows of hay are lying in the hollow, there's the bridge. That's our
+center. Our right flank is over there"--he pointed sharply to the right,
+far away in the broken ground--"That's where the Moskva River is, and we
+have thrown up three redoubts there, very strong ones. The left
+flank..." here the officer paused. "Well, you see, that's difficult to
+explain.... Yesterday our left flank was there at Shevardino, you see,
+where the oak is, but now we have withdrawn our left wing--now it is
+over there, do you see that village and the smoke? That's Semenovsk,
+yes, there," he pointed to Raevski's knoll. "But the battle will hardly
+be there. His having moved his troops there is only a ruse; he will
+probably pass round to the right of the Moskva. But wherever it may be,
+many a man will be missing tomorrow!" he remarked.
+
+An elderly sergeant who had approached the officer while he was giving
+these explanations had waited in silence for him to finish speaking, but
+at this point, evidently not liking the officer's remark, interrupted
+him.
+
+"Gabions must be sent for," said he sternly.
+
+The officer appeared abashed, as though he understood that one might
+think of how many men would be missing tomorrow but ought not to speak
+of it.
+
+"Well, send number three company again," the officer replied hurriedly.
+
+"And you, are you one of the doctors?"
+
+"No, I've come on my own," answered Pierre, and he went down the hill
+again, passing the militiamen.
+
+"Oh, those damned fellows!" muttered the officer who followed him,
+holding his nose as he ran past the men at work.
+
+"There they are... bringing her, coming... There they are... They'll be
+here in a minute..." voices were suddenly heard saying; and officers,
+soldiers, and militiamen began running forward along the road.
+
+A church procession was coming up the hill from Borodino. First along
+the dusty road came the infantry in ranks, bareheaded and with arms
+reversed. From behind them came the sound of church singing.
+
+Soldiers and militiamen ran bareheaded past Pierre toward the
+procession.
+
+"They are bringing her, our Protectress!... The Iberian Mother of God!"
+someone cried.
+
+"The Smolensk Mother of God," another corrected him.
+
+The militiamen, both those who had been in the village and those who had
+been at work on the battery, threw down their spades and ran to meet the
+church procession. Following the battalion that marched along the dusty
+road came priests in their vestments--one little old man in a hood with
+attendants and singers. Behind them soldiers and officers bore a large,
+dark-faced icon with an embossed metal cover. This was the icon that had
+been brought from Smolensk and had since accompanied the army. Behind,
+before, and on both sides, crowds of militiamen with bared heads walked,
+ran, and bowed to the ground.
+
+At the summit of the hill they stopped with the icon; the men who had
+been holding it up by the linen bands attached to it were relieved by
+others, the chanters relit their censers, and service began. The hot
+rays of the sun beat down vertically and a fresh soft wind played with
+the hair of the bared heads and with the ribbons decorating the icon.
+The singing did not sound loud under the open sky. An immense crowd of
+bareheaded officers, soldiers, and militiamen surrounded the icon.
+Behind the priest and a chanter stood the notabilities on a spot
+reserved for them. A bald general with a St. George's Cross on his neck
+stood just behind the priest's back, and without crossing himself (he
+was evidently a German) patiently awaited the end of the service, which
+he considered it necessary to hear to the end, probably to arouse the
+patriotism of the Russian people. Another general stood in a martial
+pose, crossing himself by shaking his hand in front of his chest while
+looking about him. Standing among the crowd of peasants, Pierre
+recognized several acquaintances among these notables, but did not look
+at them--his whole attention was absorbed in watching the serious
+expression on the faces of the crowd of soldiers and militiamen who were
+all gazing eagerly at the icon. As soon as the tired chanters, who were
+singing the service for the twentieth time that day, began lazily and
+mechanically to sing: "Save from calamity Thy servants, O Mother of
+God," and the priest and deacon chimed in: "For to Thee under God we all
+flee as to an inviolable bulwark and protection," there again kindled in
+all those faces the same expression of consciousness of the solemnity of
+the impending moment that Pierre had seen on the faces at the foot of
+the hill at Mozhaysk and momentarily on many and many faces he had met
+that morning; and heads were bowed more frequently and hair tossed back,
+and sighs and the sound men made as they crossed themselves were heard.
+
+The crowd round the icon suddenly parted and pressed against Pierre.
+Someone, a very important personage judging by the haste with which way
+was made for him, was approaching the icon.
+
+It was Kutuzov, who had been riding round the position and on his way
+back to Tatarinova had stopped where the service was being held. Pierre
+recognized him at once by his peculiar figure, which distinguished him
+from everybody else.
+
+With a long overcoat on his exceedingly stout, round-shouldered body,
+with uncovered white head and puffy face showing the white ball of the
+eye he had lost, Kutuzov walked with plunging, swaying gait into the
+crowd and stopped behind the priest. He crossed himself with an
+accustomed movement, bent till he touched the ground with his hand, and
+bowed his white head with a deep sigh. Behind Kutuzov was Bennigsen and
+the suite. Despite the presence of the commander-in-chief, who attracted
+the attention of all the superior officers, the militiamen and soldiers
+continued their prayers without looking at him.
+
+When the service was over, Kutuzov stepped up to the icon, sank heavily
+to his knees, bowed to the ground, and for a long time tried vainly to
+rise, but could not do so on account of his weakness and weight. His
+white head twitched with the effort. At last he rose, kissed the icon as
+a child does with naively pouting lips, and again bowed till he touched
+the ground with his hand. The other generals followed his example, then
+the officers, and after them with excited faces, pressing on one
+another, crowding, panting, and pushing, scrambled the soldiers and
+militiamen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+Staggering amid the crush, Pierre looked about him.
+
+"Count Peter Kirilovich! How did you get here?" said a voice.
+
+Pierre looked round. Boris Drubetskoy, brushing his knees with his hand
+(he had probably soiled them when he, too, had knelt before the icon),
+came up to him smiling. Boris was elegantly dressed, with a slightly
+martial touch appropriate to a campaign. He wore a long coat and like
+Kutuzov had a whip slung across his shoulder.
+
+Meanwhile Kutuzov had reached the village and seated himself in the
+shade of the nearest house, on a bench which one Cossack had run to
+fetch and another had hastily covered with a rug. An immense and
+brilliant suite surrounded him.
+
+The icon was carried further, accompanied by the throng. Pierre stopped
+some thirty paces from Kutuzov, talking to Boris.
+
+He explained his wish to be present at the battle and to see the
+position.
+
+"This is what you must do," said Boris. "I will do the honors of the
+camp to you. You will see everything best from where Count Bennigsen
+will be. I am in attendance on him, you know; I'll mention it to him.
+But if you want to ride round the position, come along with us. We are
+just going to the left flank. Then when we get back, do spend the night
+with me and we'll arrange a game of cards. Of course you know Dmitri
+Sergeevich? Those are his quarters," and he pointed to the third house
+in the village of Gorki.
+
+"But I should like to see the right flank. They say it's very strong,"
+said Pierre. "I should like to start from the Moskva River and ride
+round the whole position."
+
+"Well, you can do that later, but the chief thing is the left flank."
+
+"Yes, yes. But where is Prince Bolkonski's regiment? Can you point it
+out to me?"
+
+"Prince Andrew's? We shall pass it and I'll take you to him."
+
+"What about the left flank?" asked Pierre
+
+"To tell you the truth, between ourselves, God only knows what state our
+left flank is in," said Boris confidentially lowering his voice. "It is
+not at all what Count Bennigsen intended. He meant to fortify that knoll
+quite differently, but..." Boris shrugged his shoulders, "his Serene
+Highness would not have it, or someone persuaded him. You see..." but
+Boris did not finish, for at that moment Kaysarov, Kutuzov's adjutant,
+came up to Pierre. "Ah, Kaysarov!" said Boris, addressing him with an
+unembarrassed smile, "I was just trying to explain our position to the
+count. It is amazing how his Serene Highness could so foresee the
+intentions of the French!"
+
+"You mean the left flank?" asked Kaysarov.
+
+"Yes, exactly; the left flank is now extremely strong."
+
+Though Kutuzov had dismissed all unnecessary men from the staff, Boris
+had contrived to remain at headquarters after the changes. He had
+established himself with Count Bennigsen, who, like all on whom Boris
+had been in attendance, considered young Prince Drubetskoy an invaluable
+man.
+
+In the higher command there were two sharply defined parties: Kutuzov's
+party and that of Bennigsen, the chief of staff. Boris belonged to the
+latter and no one else, while showing servile respect to Kutuzov, could
+so create an impression that the old fellow was not much good and that
+Bennigsen managed everything. Now the decisive moment of battle had come
+when Kutuzov would be destroyed and the power pass to Bennigsen, or even
+if Kutuzov won the battle it would be felt that everything was done by
+Bennigsen. In any case many great rewards would have to be given for
+tomorrow's action, and new men would come to the front. So Boris was
+full of nervous vivacity all day.
+
+After Kaysarov, others whom Pierre knew came up to him, and he had not
+time to reply to all the questions about Moscow that were showered upon
+him, or to listen to all that was told him. The faces all expressed
+animation and apprehension, but it seemed to Pierre that the cause of
+the excitement shown in some of these faces lay chiefly in questions of
+personal success; his mind, however, was occupied by the different
+expression he saw on other faces--an expression that spoke not of
+personal matters but of the universal questions of life and death.
+Kutuzov noticed Pierre's figure and the group gathered round him.
+
+"Call him to me," said Kutuzov.
+
+An adjutant told Pierre of his Serene Highness' wish, and Pierre went
+toward Kutuzov's bench. But a militiaman got there before him. It was
+Dolokhov.
+
+"How did that fellow get here?" asked Pierre.
+
+"He's a creature that wriggles in anywhere!" was the answer. "He has
+been degraded, you know. Now he wants to bob up again. He's been
+proposing some scheme or other and has crawled into the enemy's picket
+line at night.... He's a brave fellow."
+
+Pierre took off his hat and bowed respectfully to Kutuzov.
+
+"I concluded that if I reported to your Serene Highness you might send
+me away or say that you knew what I was reporting, but then I shouldn't
+lose anything..." Dolokhov was saying.
+
+"Yes, yes."
+
+"But if I were right, I should be rendering a service to my Fatherland
+for which I am ready to die."
+
+"Yes, yes."
+
+"And should your Serene Highness require a man who will not spare his
+skin, please think of me.... Perhaps I may prove useful to your Serene
+Highness."
+
+"Yes... Yes..." Kutuzov repeated, his laughing eye narrowing more and
+more as he looked at Pierre.
+
+Just then Boris, with his courtierlike adroitness, stepped up to
+Pierre's side near Kutuzov and in a most natural manner, without raising
+his voice, said to Pierre, as though continuing an interrupted
+conversation:
+
+"The militia have put on clean white shirts to be ready to die. What
+heroism, Count!"
+
+Boris evidently said this to Pierre in order to be overheard by his
+Serene Highness. He knew Kutuzov's attention would be caught by those
+words, and so it was.
+
+"What are you saying about the militia?" he asked Boris.
+
+"Preparing for tomorrow, your Serene Highness--for death--they have put
+on clean shirts."
+
+"Ah... a wonderful, a matchless people!" said Kutuzov; and he closed his
+eyes and swayed his head. "A matchless people!" he repeated with a sigh.
+
+"So you want to smell gunpowder?" he said to Pierre. "Yes, it's a
+pleasant smell. I have the honor to be one of your wife's adorers. Is
+she well? My quarters are at your service."
+
+And as often happens with old people, Kutuzov began looking about
+absent-mindedly as if forgetting all he wanted to say or do.
+
+Then, evidently remembering what he wanted, he beckoned to Andrew
+Kaysarov, his adjutant's brother.
+
+"Those verses... those verses of Marin's... how do they go, eh? Those he
+wrote about Gerakov: 'Lectures for the corps inditing'... Recite them,
+recite them!" said he, evidently preparing to laugh.
+
+Kaysarov recited.... Kutuzov smilingly nodded his head to the rhythm of
+the verses.
+
+When Pierre had left Kutuzov, Dolokhov came up to him and took his hand.
+
+"I am very glad to meet you here, Count," he said aloud, regardless of
+the presence of strangers and in a particularly resolute and solemn
+tone. "On the eve of a day when God alone knows who of us is fated to
+survive, I am glad of this opportunity to tell you that I regret the
+misunderstandings that occurred between us and should wish you not to
+have any ill feeling for me. I beg you to forgive me."
+
+Pierre looked at Dolokhov with a smile, not knowing what to say to him.
+With tears in his eyes Dolokhov embraced Pierre and kissed him.
+
+Boris said a few words to his general, and Count Bennigsen turned to
+Pierre and proposed that he should ride with him along the line.
+
+"It will interest you," said he.
+
+"Yes, very much," replied Pierre.
+
+Half an hour later Kutuzov left for Tatarinova, and Bennigsen and his
+suite, with Pierre among them, set out on their ride along the line.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+From Gorki, Bennigsen descended the highroad to the bridge which, when
+they had looked at it from the hill, the officer had pointed out as
+being the center of our position and where rows of fragrant new-mown hay
+lay by the riverside. They rode across that bridge into the village of
+Borodino and thence turned to the left, passing an enormous number of
+troops and guns, and came to a high knoll where militiamen were digging.
+This was the redoubt, as yet unnamed, which afterwards became known as
+the Raevski Redoubt, or the Knoll Battery, but Pierre paid no special
+attention to it. He did not know that it would become more memorable to
+him than any other spot on the plain of Borodino.
+
+They then crossed the hollow to Semenovsk, where the soldiers were
+dragging away the last logs from the huts and barns. Then they rode
+downhill and uphill, across a ryefield trodden and beaten down as if by
+hail, following a track freshly made by the artillery over the furrows
+of the plowed land, and reached some fleches * which were still being
+dug.
+
+
+* A kind of entrenchment.
+
+At the fleches Bennigsen stopped and began looking at the Shevardino
+Redoubt opposite, which had been ours the day before and where several
+horsemen could be descried. The officers said that either Napoleon or
+Murat was there, and they all gazed eagerly at this little group of
+horsemen. Pierre also looked at them, trying to guess which of the
+scarcely discernible figures was Napoleon. At last those mounted men
+rode away from the mound and disappeared.
+
+Bennigsen spoke to a general who approached him, and began explaining
+the whole position of our troops. Pierre listened to him, straining each
+faculty to understand the essential points of the impending battle, but
+was mortified to feel that his mental capacity was inadequate for the
+task. He could make nothing of it. Bennigsen stopped speaking and,
+noticing that Pierre was listening, suddenly said to him:
+
+"I don't think this interests you?"
+
+"On the contrary it's very interesting!" replied Pierre not quite
+truthfully.
+
+From the fleches they rode still farther to the left, along a road
+winding through a thick, low-growing birch wood. In the middle of the
+wood a brown hare with white feet sprang out and, scared by the tramp of
+the many horses, grew so confused that it leaped along the road in front
+of them for some time, arousing general attention and laughter, and only
+when several voices shouted at it did it dart to one side and disappear
+in the thicket. After going through the wood for about a mile and a half
+they came out on a glade where troops of Tuchkov's corps were stationed
+to defend the left flank.
+
+Here, at the extreme left flank, Bennigsen talked a great deal and with
+much heat, and, as it seemed to Pierre, gave orders of great military
+importance. In front of Tuchkov's troops was some high ground not
+occupied by troops. Bennigsen loudly criticized this mistake, saying
+that it was madness to leave a height which commanded the country around
+unoccupied and to place troops below it. Some of the generals expressed
+the same opinion. One in particular declared with martial heat that they
+were put there to be slaughtered. Bennigsen on his own authority ordered
+the troops to occupy the high ground. This disposition on the left flank
+increased Pierre's doubt of his own capacity to understand military
+matters. Listening to Bennigsen and the generals criticizing the
+position of the troops behind the hill, he quite understood them and
+shared their opinion, but for that very reason he could not understand
+how the man who put them there behind the hill could have made so gross
+and palpable a blunder.
+
+Pierre did not know that these troops were not, as Bennigsen supposed,
+put there to defend the position, but were in a concealed position as an
+ambush, that they should not be seen and might be able to strike an
+approaching enemy unexpectedly. Bennigsen did not know this and moved
+the troops forward according to his own ideas without mentioning the
+matter to the commander-in-chief.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+On that bright evening of August 25, Prince Andrew lay leaning on his
+elbow in a broken-down shed in the village of Knyazkovo at the further
+end of his regiment's encampment. Through a gap in the broken wall he
+could see, beside the wooden fence, a row of thirty year-old birches
+with their lower branches lopped off, a field on which shocks of oats
+were standing, and some bushes near which rose the smoke of campfires--
+the soldiers' kitchens.
+
+Narrow and burdensome and useless to anyone as his life now seemed to
+him, Prince Andrew on the eve of battle felt agitated and irritable as
+he had done seven years before at Austerlitz.
+
+He had received and given the orders for next day's battle and had
+nothing more to do. But his thoughts--the simplest, clearest, and
+therefore most terrible thoughts--would give him no peace. He knew that
+tomorrow's battle would be the most terrible of all he had taken part
+in, and for the first time in his life the possibility of death
+presented itself to him--not in relation to any worldly matter or with
+reference to its effect on others, but simply in relation to himself, to
+his own soul--vividly, plainly, terribly, and almost as a certainty. And
+from the height of this perception all that had previously tormented and
+preoccupied him suddenly became illumined by a cold white light without
+shadows, without perspective, without distinction of outline. All life
+appeared to him like magic-lantern pictures at which he had long been
+gazing by artificial light through a glass. Now he suddenly saw those
+badly daubed pictures in clear daylight and without a glass. "Yes, yes!
+There they are, those false images that agitated, enraptured, and
+tormented me," said he to himself, passing in review the principal
+pictures of the magic lantern of life and regarding them now in the cold
+white daylight of his clear perception of death. "There they are, those
+rudely painted figures that once seemed splendid and mysterious. Glory,
+the good of society, love of a woman, the Fatherland itself--how
+important these pictures appeared to me, with what profound meaning they
+seemed to be filled! And it is all so simple, pale, and crude in the
+cold white light of this morning which I feel is dawning for me." The
+three great sorrows of his life held his attention in particular: his
+love for a woman, his father's death, and the French invasion which had
+overrun half Russia. "Love... that little girl who seemed to me brimming
+over with mystic forces! Yes, indeed, I loved her. I made romantic plans
+of love and happiness with her! Oh, what a boy I was!" he said aloud
+bitterly. "Ah me! I believed in some ideal love which was to keep her
+faithful to me for the whole year of my absence! Like the gentle dove in
+the fable she was to pine apart from me.... But it was much simpler
+really.... It was all very simple and horrible."
+
+"When my father built Bald Hills he thought the place was his: his land,
+his air, his peasants. But Napoleon came and swept him aside,
+unconscious of his existence, as he might brush a chip from his path,
+and his Bald Hills and his whole life fell to pieces. Princess Mary says
+it is a trial sent from above. What is the trial for, when he is not
+here and will never return? He is not here! For whom then is the trial
+intended? The Fatherland, the destruction of Moscow! And tomorrow I
+shall be killed, perhaps not even by a Frenchman but by one of our own
+men, by a soldier discharging a musket close to my ear as one of them
+did yesterday, and the French will come and take me by head and heels
+and fling me into a hole that I may not stink under their noses, and new
+conditions of life will arise, which will seem quite ordinary to others
+and about which I shall know nothing. I shall not exist..."
+
+He looked at the row of birches shining in the sunshine, with their
+motionless green and yellow foliage and white bark. "To die... to be
+killed tomorrow... That I should not exist... That all this should still
+be, but no me...."
+
+And the birches with their light and shade, the curly clouds, the smoke
+of the campfires, and all that was around him changed and seemed
+terrible and menacing. A cold shiver ran down his spine. He rose
+quickly, went out of the shed, and began to walk about.
+
+After he had returned, voices were heard outside the shed. "Who's that?"
+he cried.
+
+The red-nosed Captain Timokhin, formerly Dolokhov's squadron commander,
+but now from lack of officers a battalion commander, shyly entered the
+shed followed by an adjutant and the regimental paymaster.
+
+Prince Andrew rose hastily, listened to the business they had come
+about, gave them some further instructions, and was about to dismiss
+them when he heard a familiar, lisping, voice behind the shed.
+
+"Devil take it!" said the voice of a man stumbling over something.
+
+Prince Andrew looked out of the shed and saw Pierre, who had tripped
+over a pole on the ground and had nearly fallen, coming his way. It was
+unpleasant to Prince Andrew to meet people of his own set in general,
+and Pierre especially, for he reminded him of all the painful moments of
+his last visit to Moscow.
+
+"You? What a surprise!" said he. "What brings you here? This is
+unexpected!"
+
+As he said this his eyes and face expressed more than coldness--they
+expressed hostility, which Pierre noticed at once. He had approached the
+shed full of animation, but on seeing Prince Andrew's face he felt
+constrained and ill at ease.
+
+"I have come... simply... you know... come... it interests me," said
+Pierre, who had so often that day senselessly repeated that word
+"interesting." "I wish to see the battle."
+
+"Oh yes, and what do the masonic brothers say about war? How would they
+stop it?" said Prince Andrew sarcastically. "Well, and how's Moscow? And
+my people? Have they reached Moscow at last?" he asked seriously.
+
+"Yes, they have. Julie Drubetskaya told me so. I went to see them, but
+missed them. They have gone to your estate near Moscow."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+The officers were about to take leave, but Prince Andrew, apparently
+reluctant to be left alone with his friend, asked them to stay and have
+tea. Seats were brought in and so was the tea. The officers gazed with
+surprise at Pierre's huge stout figure and listened to his talk of
+Moscow and the position of our army, round which he had ridden. Prince
+Andrew remained silent, and his expression was so forbidding that Pierre
+addressed his remarks chiefly to the good-natured battalion commander.
+
+"So you understand the whole position of our troops?" Prince Andrew
+interrupted him.
+
+"Yes--that is, how do you mean?" said Pierre. "Not being a military man
+I can't say I have understood it fully, but I understand the general
+position."
+
+"Well, then, you know more than anyone else, be it who it may," said
+Prince Andrew.
+
+"Oh!" said Pierre, looking over his spectacles in perplexity at Prince
+Andrew. "Well, and what do you think of Kutuzov's appointment?" he
+asked.
+
+"I was very glad of his appointment, that's all I know," replied Prince
+Andrew.
+
+"And tell me your opinion of Barclay de Tolly. In Moscow they are saying
+heaven knows what about him.... What do you think of him?"
+
+"Ask them," replied Prince Andrew, indicating the officers.
+
+Pierre looked at Timokhin with the condescendingly interrogative smile
+with which everybody involuntarily addressed that officer.
+
+"We see light again, since his Serenity has been appointed, your
+excellency," said Timokhin timidly, and continually turning to glance at
+his colonel.
+
+"Why so?" asked Pierre.
+
+"Well, to mention only firewood and fodder, let me inform you. Why, when
+we were retreating from Sventsyani we dare not touch a stick or a wisp
+of hay or anything. You see, we were going away, so he would get it all;
+wasn't it so, your excellency?" and again Timokhin turned to the prince.
+"But we daren't. In our regiment two officers were court-martialed for
+that kind of thing. But when his Serenity took command everything became
+straight forward. Now we see light..."
+
+"Then why was it forbidden?"
+
+Timokhin looked about in confusion, not knowing what or how to answer
+such a question. Pierre put the same question to Prince Andrew.
+
+"Why, so as not to lay waste the country we were abandoning to the
+enemy," said Prince Andrew with venomous irony. "It is very sound: one
+can't permit the land to be pillaged and accustom the troops to
+marauding. At Smolensk too he judged correctly that the French might
+outflank us, as they had larger forces. But he could not understand
+this," cried Prince Andrew in a shrill voice that seemed to escape him
+involuntarily: "he could not understand that there, for the first time,
+we were fighting for Russian soil, and that there was a spirit in the
+men such as I had never seen before, that we had held the French for two
+days, and that that success had increased our strength tenfold. He
+ordered us to retreat, and all our efforts and losses went for nothing.
+He had no thought of betraying us, he tried to do the best he could, he
+thought out everything, and that is why he is unsuitable. He is
+unsuitable now, just because he plans out everything very thoroughly and
+accurately as every German has to. How can I explain?... Well, say your
+father has a German valet, and he is a splendid valet and satisfies your
+father's requirements better than you could, then it's all right to let
+him serve. But if your father is mortally sick you'll send the valet
+away and attend to your father with your own unpracticed, awkward hands,
+and will soothe him better than a skilled man who is a stranger could.
+So it has been with Barclay. While Russia was well, a foreigner could
+serve her and be a splendid minister; but as soon as she is in danger
+she needs one of her own kin. But in your club they have been making him
+out a traitor! They slander him as a traitor, and the only result will
+be that afterwards, ashamed of their false accusations, they will make
+him out a hero or a genius instead of a traitor, and that will be still
+more unjust. He is an honest and very punctilious German."
+
+"And they say he's a skillful commander," rejoined Pierre.
+
+"I don't understand what is meant by 'a skillful commander,'" replied
+Prince Andrew ironically.
+
+"A skillful commander?" replied Pierre. "Why, one who foresees all
+contingencies... and foresees the adversary's intentions."
+
+"But that's impossible," said Prince Andrew as if it were a matter
+settled long ago.
+
+Pierre looked at him in surprise.
+
+"And yet they say that war is like a game of chess?" he remarked.
+
+"Yes," replied Prince Andrew, "but with this little difference, that in
+chess you may think over each move as long as you please and are not
+limited for time, and with this difference too, that a knight is always
+stronger than a pawn, and two pawns are always stronger than one, while
+in war a battalion is sometimes stronger than a division and sometimes
+weaker than a company. The relative strength of bodies of troops can
+never be known to anyone. Believe me," he went on, "if things depended
+on arrangements made by the staff, I should be there making
+arrangements, but instead of that I have the honor to serve here in the
+regiment with these gentlemen, and I consider that on us tomorrow's
+battle will depend and not on those others.... Success never depends,
+and never will depend, on position, or equipment, or even on numbers,
+and least of all on position."
+
+"But on what then?"
+
+"On the feeling that is in me and in him," he pointed to Timokhin, "and
+in each soldier."
+
+Prince Andrew glanced at Timokhin, who looked at his commander in alarm
+and bewilderment. In contrast to his former reticent taciturnity Prince
+Andrew now seemed excited. He could apparently not refrain from
+expressing the thoughts that had suddenly occurred to him.
+
+"A battle is won by those who firmly resolve to win it! Why did we lose
+the battle at Austerlitz? The French losses were almost equal to ours,
+but very early we said to ourselves that we were losing the battle, and
+we did lose it. And we said so because we had nothing to fight for
+there, we wanted to get away from the battlefield as soon as we could.
+'We've lost, so let us run,' and we ran. If we had not said that till
+the evening, heaven knows what might not have happened. But tomorrow we
+shan't say it! You talk about our position, the left flank weak and the
+right flank too extended," he went on. "That's all nonsense, there's
+nothing of the kind. But what awaits us tomorrow? A hundred million most
+diverse chances which will be decided on the instant by the fact that
+our men or theirs run or do not run, and that this man or that man is
+killed, but all that is being done at present is only play. The fact is
+that those men with whom you have ridden round the position not only do
+not help matters, but hinder. They are only concerned with their own
+petty interests."
+
+"At such a moment?" said Pierre reproachfully.
+
+"At such a moment!" Prince Andrew repeated. "To them it is only a moment
+affording opportunities to undermine a rival and obtain an extra cross
+or ribbon. For me tomorrow means this: a Russian army of a hundred
+thousand and a French army of a hundred thousand have met to fight, and
+the thing is that these two hundred thousand men will fight and the side
+that fights more fiercely and spares itself least will win. And if you
+like I will tell you that whatever happens and whatever muddles those at
+the top may make, we shall win tomorrow's battle. Tomorrow, happen what
+may, we shall win!"
+
+"There now, your excellency! That's the truth, the real truth," said
+Timokhin. "Who would spare himself now? The soldiers in my battalion,
+believe me, wouldn't drink their vodka! 'It's not the day for that!'
+they say."
+
+All were silent. The officers rose. Prince Andrew went out of the shed
+with them, giving final orders to the adjutant. After they had gone
+Pierre approached Prince Andrew and was about to start a conversation
+when they heard the clatter of three horses' hoofs on the road not far
+from the shed, and looking in that direction Prince Andrew recognized
+Wolzogen and Clausewitz accompanied by a Cossack. They rode close by
+continuing to converse, and Prince Andrew involuntarily heard these
+words:
+
+"Der Krieg muss in Raum verlegt werden. Der Ansicht kann ich nicht genug
+Preis geben," * said one of them.
+
+
+* "The war must be extended widely. I cannot sufficiently commend that
+view."
+
+"Oh, ja," said the other, "der Zweck ist nur den Feind zu schwächen, so
+kann man gewiss nicht den Verlust der Privat-Personen in Achtung
+nehmen." *
+
+
+* "Oh, yes, the only aim is to weaken the enemy, so of course one cannot
+take into account the loss of private individuals."
+
+"Oh, no," agreed the other.
+
+"Extend widely!" said Prince Andrew with an angry snort, when they had
+ridden past. "In that 'extend' were my father, son, and sister, at Bald
+Hills. That's all the same to him! That's what I was saying to you--
+those German gentlemen won't win the battle tomorrow but will only make
+all the mess they can, because they have nothing in their German heads
+but theories not worth an empty eggshell and haven't in their hearts the
+one thing needed tomorrow--that which Timokhin has. They have yielded up
+all Europe to him, and have now come to teach us. Fine teachers!" and
+again his voice grew shrill.
+
+"So you think we shall win tomorrow's battle?" asked Pierre.
+
+"Yes, yes," answered Prince Andrew absently. "One thing I would do if I
+had the power," he began again, "I would not take prisoners. Why take
+prisoners? It's chivalry! The French have destroyed my home and are on
+their way to destroy Moscow, they have outraged and are outraging me
+every moment. They are my enemies. In my opinion they are all criminals.
+And so thinks Timokhin and the whole army. They should be executed!
+Since they are my foes they cannot be my friends, whatever may have been
+said at Tilsit."
+
+"Yes, yes," muttered Pierre, looking with shining eyes at Prince Andrew.
+"I quite agree with you!"
+
+The question that had perturbed Pierre on the Mozhaysk hill and all that
+day now seemed to him quite clear and completely solved. He now
+understood the whole meaning and importance of this war and of the
+impending battle. All he had seen that day, all the significant and
+stern expressions on the faces he had seen in passing, were lit up for
+him by a new light. He understood that latent heat (as they say in
+physics) of patriotism which was present in all these men he had seen,
+and this explained to him why they all prepared for death calmly, and as
+it were lightheartedly.
+
+"Not take prisoners," Prince Andrew continued: "That by itself would
+quite change the whole war and make it less cruel. As it is we have
+played at war--that's what's vile! We play at magnanimity and all that
+stuff. Such magnanimity and sensibility are like the magnanimity and
+sensibility of a lady who faints when she sees a calf being killed: she
+is so kindhearted that she can't look at blood, but enjoys eating the
+calf served up with sauce. They talk to us of the rules of war, of
+chivalry, of flags of truce, of mercy to the unfortunate and so on. It's
+all rubbish! I saw chivalry and flags of truce in 1805; they humbugged
+us and we humbugged them. They plunder other people's houses, issue
+false paper money, and worst of all they kill my children and my father,
+and then talk of rules of war and magnanimity to foes! Take no
+prisoners, but kill and be killed! He who has come to this as I have
+through the same sufferings..."
+
+Prince Andrew, who had thought it was all the same to him whether or not
+Moscow was taken as Smolensk had been, was suddenly checked in his
+speech by an unexpected cramp in his throat. He paced up and down a few
+times in silence, but his eyes glittered feverishly and his lips
+quivered as he began speaking.
+
+"If there was none of this magnanimity in war, we should go to war only
+when it was worth while going to certain death, as now. Then there would
+not be war because Paul Ivanovich had offended Michael Ivanovich. And
+when there was a war, like this one, it would be war! And then the
+determination of the troops would be quite different. Then all these
+Westphalians and Hessians whom Napoleon is leading would not follow him
+into Russia, and we should not go to fight in Austria and Prussia
+without knowing why. War is not courtesy but the most horrible thing in
+life; and we ought to understand that and not play at war. We ought to
+accept this terrible necessity sternly and seriously. It all lies in
+that: get rid of falsehood and let war be war and not a game. As it is
+now, war is the favorite pastime of the idle and frivolous. The military
+calling is the most highly honored.
+
+"But what is war? What is needed for success in warfare? What are the
+habits of the military? The aim of war is murder; the methods of war are
+spying, treachery, and their encouragement, the ruin of a country's
+inhabitants, robbing them or stealing to provision the army, and fraud
+and falsehood termed military craft. The habits of the military class
+are the absence of freedom, that is, discipline, idleness, ignorance,
+cruelty, debauchery, and drunkenness. And in spite of all this it is the
+highest class, respected by everyone. All the kings, except the Chinese,
+wear military uniforms, and he who kills most people receives the
+highest rewards.
+
+"They meet, as we shall meet tomorrow, to murder one another; they kill
+and maim tens of thousands, and then have thanksgiving services for
+having killed so many people (they even exaggerate the number), and they
+announce a victory, supposing that the more people they have killed the
+greater their achievement. How does God above look at them and hear
+them?" exclaimed Prince Andrew in a shrill, piercing voice. "Ah, my
+friend, it has of late become hard for me to live. I see that I have
+begun to understand too much. And it doesn't do for man to taste of the
+tree of knowledge of good and evil.... Ah, well, it's not for long!" he
+added.
+
+"However, you're sleepy, and it's time for me to sleep. Go back to
+Gorki!" said Prince Andrew suddenly.
+
+"Oh no!" Pierre replied, looking at Prince Andrew with frightened,
+compassionate eyes.
+
+"Go, go! Before a battle one must have one's sleep out," repeated Prince
+Andrew.
+
+He came quickly up to Pierre and embraced and kissed him. "Good-bye, be
+off!" he shouted. "Whether we meet again or not..." and turning away
+hurriedly he entered the shed.
+
+It was already dark, and Pierre could not make out whether the
+expression of Prince Andrew's face was angry or tender.
+
+For some time he stood in silence considering whether he should follow
+him or go away. "No, he does not want it!" Pierre concluded. "And I know
+that this is our last meeting!" He sighed deeply and rode back to Gorki.
+
+On re-entering the shed Prince Andrew lay down on a rug, but he could
+not sleep.
+
+He closed his eyes. One picture succeeded another in his imagination. On
+one of them he dwelt long and joyfully. He vividly recalled an evening
+in Petersburg. Natasha with animated and excited face was telling him
+how she had gone to look for mushrooms the previous summer and had lost
+her way in the big forest. She incoherently described the depths of the
+forest, her feelings, and a talk with a beekeeper she met, and
+constantly interrupted her story to say: "No, I can't! I'm not telling
+it right; no, you don't understand," though he encouraged her by saying
+that he did understand, and he really had understood all she wanted to
+say. But Natasha was not satisfied with her own words: she felt that
+they did not convey the passionately poetic feeling she had experienced
+that day and wished to convey. "He was such a delightful old man, and it
+was so dark in the forest... and he had such kind... No, I can't
+describe it," she had said, flushed and excited. Prince Andrew smiled
+now the same happy smile as then when he had looked into her eyes. "I
+understood her," he thought. "I not only understood her, but it was just
+that inner, spiritual force, that sincerity, that frankness of soul--
+that very soul of hers which seemed to be fettered by her body--it was
+that soul I loved in her... loved so strongly and happily..." and
+suddenly he remembered how his love had ended. "He did not need anything
+of that kind. He neither saw nor understood anything of the sort. He
+only saw in her a pretty and fresh young girl, with whom he did not
+deign to unite his fate. And I?... and he is still alive and gay!"
+
+Prince Andrew jumped up as if someone had burned him, and again began
+pacing up and down in front of the shed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+On August 25, the eve of the battle of Borodino, M. de Beausset, prefect
+of the French Emperor's palace, arrived at Napoleon's quarters at
+Valuevo with Colonel Fabvier, the former from Paris and the latter from
+Madrid.
+
+Donning his court uniform, M. de Beausset ordered a box he had brought
+for the Emperor to be carried before him and entered the first
+compartment of Napoleon's tent, where he began opening the box while
+conversing with Napoleon's aides-de-camp who surrounded him.
+
+Fabvier, not entering the tent, remained at the entrance talking to some
+generals of his acquaintance.
+
+The Emperor Napoleon had not yet left his bedroom and was finishing his
+toilet. Slightly snorting and grunting, he presented now his back and
+now his plump hairy chest to the brush with which his valet was rubbing
+him down. Another valet, with his finger over the mouth of a bottle, was
+sprinkling Eau de Cologne on the Emperor's pampered body with an
+expression which seemed to say that he alone knew where and how much Eau
+de Cologne should be sprinkled. Napoleon's short hair was wet and matted
+on the forehead, but his face, though puffy and yellow, expressed
+physical satisfaction. "Go on, harder, go on!" he muttered to the valet
+who was rubbing him, slightly twitching and grunting. An aide-de-camp,
+who had entered the bedroom to report to the Emperor the number of
+prisoners taken in yesterday's action, was standing by the door after
+delivering his message, awaiting permission to withdraw. Napoleon,
+frowning, looked at him from under his brows.
+
+"No prisoners!" said he, repeating the aide-de-camp's words. "They are
+forcing us to exterminate them. So much the worse for the Russian
+army.... Go on... harder, harder!" he muttered, hunching his back and
+presenting his fat shoulders.
+
+"All right. Let Monsieur de Beausset enter, and Fabvier too," he said,
+nodding to the aide-de-camp.
+
+"Yes, sire," and the aide-de-camp disappeared through the door of the
+tent.
+
+Two valets rapidly dressed His Majesty, and wearing the blue uniform of
+the Guards he went with firm quick steps to the reception room.
+
+De Beausset's hands meanwhile were busily engaged arranging the present
+he had brought from the Empress, on two chairs directly in front of the
+entrance. But Napoleon had dressed and come out with such unexpected
+rapidity that he had not time to finish arranging the surprise.
+
+Napoleon noticed at once what they were about and guessed that they were
+not ready. He did not wish to deprive them of the pleasure of giving him
+a surprise, so he pretended not to see de Beausset and called Fabvier to
+him, listening silently and with a stern frown to what Fabvier told him
+of the heroism and devotion of his troops fighting at Salamanca, at the
+other end of Europe, with but one thought--to be worthy of their
+Emperor--and but one fear--to fail to please him. The result of that
+battle had been deplorable. Napoleon made ironic remarks during
+Fabvier's account, as if he had not expected that matters could go
+otherwise in his absence.
+
+"I must make up for that in Moscow," said Napoleon. "I'll see you
+later," he added, and summoned de Beausset, who by that time had
+prepared the surprise, having placed something on the chairs and covered
+it with a cloth.
+
+De Beausset bowed low, with that courtly French bow which only the old
+retainers of the Bourbons knew how to make, and approached him,
+presenting an envelope.
+
+Napoleon turned to him gaily and pulled his ear.
+
+"You have hurried here. I am very glad. Well, what is Paris saying?" he
+asked, suddenly changing his former stern expression for a most cordial
+tone.
+
+"Sire, all Paris regrets your absence," replied de Beausset as was
+proper.
+
+But though Napoleon knew that de Beausset had to say something of this
+kind, and though in his lucid moments he knew it was untrue, he was
+pleased to hear it from him. Again he honored him by touching his ear.
+
+"I am very sorry to have made you travel so far," said he.
+
+"Sire, I expected nothing less than to find you at the gates of Moscow,"
+replied de Beausset.
+
+Napoleon smiled and, lifting his head absent-mindedly, glanced to the
+right. An aide-de-camp approached with gliding steps and offered him a
+gold snuffbox, which he took.
+
+"Yes, it has happened luckily for you," he said, raising the open
+snuffbox to his nose. "You are fond of travel, and in three days you
+will see Moscow. You surely did not expect to see that Asiatic capital.
+You will have a pleasant journey."
+
+De Beausset bowed gratefully at this regard for his taste for travel (of
+which he had not till then been aware).
+
+"Ha, what's this?" asked Napoleon, noticing that all the courtiers were
+looking at something concealed under a cloth.
+
+With courtly adroitness de Beausset half turned and without turning his
+back to the Emperor retired two steps, twitching off the cloth at the
+same time, and said:
+
+"A present to Your Majesty from the Empress."
+
+It was a portrait, painted in bright colors by Gerard, of the son borne
+to Napoleon by the daughter of the Emperor of Austria, the boy whom for
+some reason everyone called "The King of Rome."
+
+A very pretty curly-headed boy with a look of the Christ in the Sistine
+Madonna was depicted playing at stick and ball. The ball represented the
+terrestrial globe and the stick in his other hand a scepter.
+
+Though it was not clear what the artist meant to express by depicting
+the so-called King of Rome spiking the earth with a stick, the allegory
+apparently seemed to Napoleon, as it had done to all who had seen it in
+Paris, quite clear and very pleasing.
+
+"The King of Rome!" he said, pointing to the portrait with a graceful
+gesture. "Admirable!"
+
+With the natural capacity of an Italian for changing the expression of
+his face at will, he drew nearer to the portrait and assumed a look of
+pensive tenderness. He felt that what he now said and did would be
+historical, and it seemed to him that it would now be best for him--
+whose grandeur enabled his son to play stick and ball with the
+terrestrial globe--to show, in contrast to that grandeur, the simplest
+paternal tenderness. His eyes grew dim, he moved forward, glanced round
+at a chair (which seemed to place itself under him), and sat down on it
+before the portrait. At a single gesture from him everyone went out on
+tiptoe, leaving the great man to himself and his emotion.
+
+Having sat still for a while he touched--himself not knowing why--the
+thick spot of paint representing the highest light in the portrait,
+rose, and recalled de Beausset and the officer on duty. He ordered the
+portrait to be carried outside his tent, that the Old Guard, stationed
+round it, might not be deprived of the pleasure of seeing the King of
+Rome, the son and heir of their adored monarch.
+
+And while he was doing M. de Beausset the honor of breakfasting with
+him, they heard, as Napoleon had anticipated, the rapturous cries of the
+officers and men of the Old Guard who had run up to see the portrait.
+
+"Vive l'Empereur! Vive le roi de Rome! Vive l'Empereur!" came those
+ecstatic cries.
+
+After breakfast Napoleon in de Beausset's presence dictated his order of
+the day to the army.
+
+"Short and energetic!" he remarked when he had read over the
+proclamation which he had dictated straight off without corrections. It
+ran:
+
+Soldiers! This is the battle you have so longed for. Victory depends on
+you. It is essential for us; it will give us all we need: comfortable
+quarters and a speedy return to our country. Behave as you did at
+Austerlitz, Friedland, Vitebsk, and Smolensk. Let our remotest posterity
+recall your achievements this day with pride. Let it be said of each of
+you: "He was in the great battle before Moscow!"
+
+"Before Moscow!" repeated Napoleon, and inviting M. de Beausset, who was
+so fond of travel, to accompany him on his ride, he went out of the tent
+to where the horses stood saddled.
+
+"Your Majesty is too kind!" replied de Beausset to the invitation to
+accompany the Emperor; he wanted to sleep, did not know how to ride and
+was afraid of doing so.
+
+But Napoleon nodded to the traveler, and de Beausset had to mount. When
+Napoleon came out of the tent the shouting of the Guards before his
+son's portrait grew still louder. Napoleon frowned.
+
+"Take him away!" he said, pointing with a gracefully majestic gesture to
+the portrait. "It is too soon for him to see a field of battle."
+
+De Beausset closed his eyes, bowed his head, and sighed deeply, to
+indicate how profoundly he valued and comprehended the Emperor's words.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+On the twenty-fifth of August, so his historians tell us, Napoleon spent
+the whole day on horseback inspecting the locality, considering plans
+submitted to him by his marshals, and personally giving commands to his
+generals.
+
+The original line of the Russian forces along the river Kolocha had been
+dislocated by the capture of the Shevardino Redoubt on the twenty-
+fourth, and part of the line--the left flank--had been drawn back. That
+part of the line was not entrenched and in front of it the ground was
+more open and level than elsewhere. It was evident to anyone, military
+or not, that it was here the French should attack. It would seem that
+not much consideration was needed to reach this conclusion, nor any
+particular care or trouble on the part of the Emperor and his marshals,
+nor was there any need of that special and supreme quality called genius
+that people are so apt to ascribe to Napoleon; yet the historians who
+described the event later and the men who then surrounded Napoleon, and
+he himself, thought otherwise.
+
+Napoleon rode over the plain and surveyed the locality with a profound
+air and in silence, nodded with approval or shook his head dubiously,
+and without communicating to the generals around him the profound course
+of ideas which guided his decisions merely gave them his final
+conclusions in the form of commands. Having listened to a suggestion
+from Davout, who was now called Prince d'Eckmuhl, to turn the Russian
+left wing, Napoleon said it should not be done, without explaining why
+not. To a proposal made by General Campan (who was to attack the
+fleches) to lead his division through the woods, Napoleon agreed, though
+the so-called Duke of Elchingen (Ney) ventured to remark that a movement
+through the woods was dangerous and might disorder the division.
+
+Having inspected the country opposite the Shevardino Redoubt, Napoleon
+pondered a little in silence and then indicated the spots where two
+batteries should be set up by the morrow to act against the Russian
+entrenchments, and the places where, in line with them, the field
+artillery should be placed.
+
+After giving these and other commands he returned to his tent, and the
+dispositions for the battle were written down from his dictation.
+
+These dispositions, of which the French historians write with enthusiasm
+and other historians with profound respect, were as follows:
+
+At dawn the two new batteries established during the night on the plain
+occupied by the Prince d'Eckmuhl will open fire on the opposing
+batteries of the enemy.
+
+At the same time the commander of the artillery of the 1st Corps,
+General Pernetti, with thirty cannon of Campan's division and all the
+howitzers of Dessaix's and Friant's divisions, will move forward, open
+fire, and overwhelm with shellfire the enemy's battery, against which
+will operate:
+
+
+24 guns of the artillery of the Guards 30 guns of Campan's division
+
+and     8 guns of Friant's and Dessaix's divisions --
+
+in all 62 guns.
+
+The commander of the artillery of the 3rd Corps, General Fouche, will
+place the howitzers of the 3rd and 8th Corps, sixteen in all, on the
+flanks of the battery that is to bombard the entrenchment on the left,
+which will have forty guns in all directed against it.
+
+General Sorbier must be ready at the first order to advance with all the
+howitzers of the Guard's artillery against either one or other of the
+entrenchments.
+
+During the cannonade Prince Poniatowski is to advance through the wood
+on the village and turn the enemy's position.
+
+General Campan will move through the wood to seize the first
+fortification.
+
+After the advance has begun in this manner, orders will be given in
+accordance with the enemy's movements.
+
+The cannonade on the left flank will begin as soon as the guns of the
+right wing are heard. The sharpshooters of Morand's division and of the
+vice-King's division will open a heavy fire on seeing the attack
+commence on the right wing.
+
+The vice-King will occupy the village and cross by its three bridges,
+advancing to the same heights as Morand's and Gibrard's divisions, which
+under his leadership will be directed against the redoubt and come into
+line with the rest of the forces.
+
+All this must be done in good order (le tout se fera avec ordre et
+methode) as far as possible retaining troops in reserve.
+
+The Imperial Camp near Mozhaysk,
+
+September, 6, 1812.
+
+These dispositions, which are very obscure and confused if one allows
+oneself to regard the arrangements without religious awe of his genius,
+related to Napoleon's orders to deal with four points--four different
+orders. Not one of these was, or could be, carried out.
+
+In the disposition it is said first that the batteries placed on the
+spot chosen by Napoleon, with the guns of Pernetti and Fouche; which
+were to come in line with them, 102 guns in all, were to open fire and
+shower shells on the Russian fleches and redoubts. This could not be
+done, as from the spots selected by Napoleon the projectiles did not
+carry to the Russian works, and those 102 guns shot into the air until
+the nearest commander, contrary to Napoleon's instructions, moved them
+forward.
+
+The second order was that Poniatowski, moving to the village through the
+wood, should turn the Russian left flank. This could not be done and was
+not done, because Poniatowski, advancing on the village through the
+wood, met Tuchkov there barring his way, and could not and did not turn
+the Russian position.
+
+The third order was: General Campan will move through the wood to seize
+the first fortification. General Campan's division did not seize the
+first fortification but was driven back, for on emerging from the wood
+it had to reform under grapeshot, of which Napoleon was unaware.
+
+The fourth order was: The vice-King will occupy the village (Borodino)
+and cross by its three bridges, advancing to the same heights as
+Morand's and Gibrard's divisions (for whose movements no directions are
+given), which under his leadership will be directed against the redoubt
+and come into line with the rest of the forces.
+
+As far as one can make out, not so much from this unintelligible
+sentence as from the attempts the vice-King made to execute the orders
+given him, he was to advance from the left through Borodino to the
+redoubt while the divisions of Morand and Gerard were to advance
+simultaneously from the front.
+
+All this, like the other parts of the disposition, was not and could not
+be executed. After passing through Borodino the vice-King was driven
+back to the Kolocha and could get no farther; while the divisions of
+Morand and Gerard did not take the redoubt but were driven back, and the
+redoubt was only taken at the end of the battle by the cavalry (a thing
+probably unforeseen and not heard of by Napoleon). So not one of the
+orders in the disposition was, or could be, executed. But in the
+disposition it is said that, after the fight has commenced in this
+manner, orders will be given in accordance with the enemy's movements,
+and so it might be supposed that all necessary arrangements would be
+made by Napoleon during the battle. But this was not and could not be
+done, for during the whole battle Napoleon was so far away that, as
+appeared later, he could not know the course of the battle and not one
+of his orders during the fight could be executed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+Many historians say that the French did not win the battle of Borodino
+because Napoleon had a cold, and that if he had not had a cold the
+orders he gave before and during the battle would have been still more
+full of genius and Russia would have been lost and the face of the world
+have been changed. To historians who believe that Russia was shaped by
+the will of one man--Peter the Great--and that France from a republic
+became an empire and French armies went to Russia at the will of one
+man--Napoleon--to say that Russia remained a power because Napoleon had
+a bad cold on the twenty-fourth of August may seem logical and
+convincing.
+
+If it had depended on Napoleon's will to fight or not to fight the
+battle of Borodino, and if this or that other arrangement depended on
+his will, then evidently a cold affecting the manifestation of his will
+might have saved Russia, and consequently the valet who omitted to bring
+Napoleon his waterproof boots on the twenty-fourth would have been the
+savior of Russia. Along that line of thought such a deduction is
+indubitable, as indubitable as the deduction Voltaire made in jest
+(without knowing what he was jesting at) when he saw that the Massacre
+of St. Bartholomew was due to Charles IX's stomach being deranged. But
+to men who do not admit that Russia was formed by the will of one man,
+Peter I, or that the French Empire was formed and the war with Russia
+begun by the will of one man, Napoleon, that argument seems not merely
+untrue and irrational, but contrary to all human reality. To the
+question of what causes historic events another answer presents itself,
+namely, that the course of human events is predetermined from on high--
+depends on the coincidence of the wills of all who take part in the
+events, and that a Napoleon's influence on the course of these events is
+purely external and fictitious.
+
+Strange as at first glance it may seem to suppose that the Massacre of
+St. Bartholomew was not due to Charles IX's will, though he gave the
+order for it and thought it was done as a result of that order; and
+strange as it may seem to suppose that the slaughter of eighty thousand
+men at Borodino was not due to Napoleon's will, though he ordered the
+commencement and conduct of the battle and thought it was done because
+he ordered it; strange as these suppositions appear, yet human dignity--
+which tells me that each of us is, if not more at least not less a man
+than the great Napoleon--demands the acceptance of that solution of the
+question, and historic investigation abundantly confirms it.
+
+At the battle of Borodino Napoleon shot at no one and killed no one.
+That was all done by the soldiers. Therefore it was not he who killed
+people.
+
+The French soldiers went to kill and be killed at the battle of Borodino
+not because of Napoleon's orders but by their own volition. The whole
+army--French, Italian, German, Polish, and Dutch--hungry, ragged, and
+weary of the campaign, felt at the sight of an army blocking their road
+to Moscow that the wine was drawn and must be drunk. Had Napoleon then
+forbidden them to fight the Russians, they would have killed him and
+have proceeded to fight the Russians because it was inevitable.
+
+When they heard Napoleon's proclamation offering them, as compensation
+for mutilation and death, the words of posterity about their having been
+in the battle before Moscow, they cried "Vive l'Empereur!" just as they
+had cried "Vive l'Empereur!" at the sight of the portrait of the boy
+piercing the terrestrial globe with a toy stick, and just as they would
+have cried "Vive l'Empereur!" at any nonsense that might be told them.
+There was nothing left for them to do but cry "Vive l'Empereur!" and go
+to fight, in order to get food and rest as conquerors in Moscow. So it
+was not because of Napoleon's commands that they killed their fellow
+men.
+
+And it was not Napoleon who directed the course of the battle, for none
+of his orders were executed and during the battle he did not know what
+was going on before him. So the way in which these people killed one
+another was not decided by Napoleon's will but occurred independently of
+him, in accord with the will of hundreds of thousands of people who took
+part in the common action. It only seemed to Napoleon that it all took
+place by his will. And so the question whether he had or had not a cold
+has no more historic interest than the cold of the least of the
+transport soldiers.
+
+Moreover, the assertion made by various writers that his cold was the
+cause of his dispositions not being as well-planned as on former
+occasions, and of his orders during the battle not being as good as
+previously, is quite baseless, which again shows that Napoleon's cold on
+the twenty-sixth of August was unimportant.
+
+The dispositions cited above are not at all worse, but are even better,
+than previous dispositions by which he had won victories. His pseudo-
+orders during the battle were also no worse than formerly, but much the
+same as usual. These dispositions and orders only seem worse than
+previous ones because the battle of Borodino was the first Napoleon did
+not win. The profoundest and most excellent dispositions and orders seem
+very bad, and every learned militarist criticizes them with looks of
+importance, when they relate to a battle that has been lost, and the
+very worst dispositions and orders seem very good, and serious people
+fill whole volumes to demonstrate their merits, when they relate to a
+battle that has been won.
+
+The dispositions drawn up by Weyrother for the battle of Austerlitz were
+a model of perfection for that kind of composition, but still they were
+criticized--criticized for their very perfection, for their excessive
+minuteness.
+
+Napoleon at the battle of Borodino fulfilled his office as
+representative of authority as well as, and even better than, at other
+battles. He did nothing harmful to the progress of the battle; he
+inclined to the most reasonable opinions, he made no confusion, did not
+contradict himself, did not get frightened or run away from the field of
+battle, but with his great tact and military experience carried out his
+role of appearing to command, calmly and with dignity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+On returning from a second inspection of the lines, Napoleon remarked:
+
+"The chessmen are set up, the game will begin tomorrow!"
+
+Having ordered punch and summoned de Beausset, he began to talk to him
+about Paris and about some changes he meant to make in the Empress'
+household, surprising the prefect by his memory of minute details
+relating to the court.
+
+He showed an interest in trifles, joked about de Beausset's love of
+travel, and chatted carelessly, as a famous, self-confident surgeon who
+knows his job does when turning up his sleeves and putting on his apron
+while a patient is being strapped to the operating table. "The matter is
+in my hands and is clear and definite in my head. When the time comes to
+set to work I shall do it as no one else could, but now I can jest, and
+the more I jest and the calmer I am the more tranquil and confident you
+ought to be, and the more amazed at my genius."
+
+Having finished his second glass of punch, Napoleon went to rest before
+the serious business which, he considered, awaited him next day. He was
+so much interested in that task that he was unable to sleep, and in
+spite of his cold which had grown worse from the dampness of the
+evening, he went into the large division of the tent at three o'clock in
+the morning, loudly blowing his nose. He asked whether the Russians had
+not withdrawn, and was told that the enemy's fires were still in the
+same places. He nodded approval.
+
+The adjutant in attendance came into the tent.
+
+"Well, Rapp, do you think we shall do good business today?" Napoleon
+asked him.
+
+"Without doubt, sire," replied Rapp.
+
+Napoleon looked at him.
+
+"Do you remember, sire, what you did me the honor to say at Smolensk?"
+continued Rapp. "The wine is drawn and must be drunk."
+
+Napoleon frowned and sat silent for a long time leaning his head on his
+hand.
+
+"This poor army!" he suddenly remarked. "It has diminished greatly since
+Smolensk. Fortune is frankly a courtesan, Rapp. I have always said so
+and I am beginning to experience it. But the Guards, Rapp, the Guards
+are intact?" he remarked interrogatively.
+
+"Yes, sire," replied Rapp.
+
+Napoleon took a lozenge, put it in his mouth, and glanced at his watch.
+He was not sleepy and it was still not nearly morning. It was impossible
+to give further orders for the sake of killing time, for the orders had
+all been given and were now being executed.
+
+"Have the biscuits and rice been served out to the regiments of the
+Guards?" asked Napoleon sternly.
+
+"Yes, sire."
+
+"The rice too?"
+
+Rapp replied that he had given the Emperor's order about the rice, but
+Napoleon shook his head in dissatisfaction as if not believing that his
+order had been executed. An attendant came in with punch. Napoleon
+ordered another glass to be brought for Rapp, and silently sipped his
+own.
+
+"I have neither taste nor smell," he remarked, sniffing at his glass.
+"This cold is tiresome. They talk about medicine--what is the good of
+medicine when it can't cure a cold! Corvisart gave me these lozenges but
+they don't help at all. What can doctors cure? One can't cure anything.
+Our body is a machine for living. It is organized for that, it is its
+nature. Let life go on in it unhindered and let it defend itself, it
+will do more than if you paralyze it by encumbering it with remedies.
+Our body is like a perfect watch that should go for a certain time; the
+watchmaker cannot open it, he can only adjust it by fumbling, and that
+blindfold.... Yes, our body is just a machine for living, that is all."
+
+And having entered on the path of definition, of which he was fond,
+Napoleon suddenly and unexpectedly gave a new one.
+
+"Do you know, Rapp, what military art is?" asked he. "It is the art of
+being stronger than the enemy at a given moment. That's all."
+
+Rapp made no reply.
+
+"Tomorrow we shall have to deal with Kutuzov!" said Napoleon. "We shall
+see! Do you remember at Braunau he commanded an army for three weeks and
+did not once mount a horse to inspect his entrenchments.... We shall
+see!"
+
+He looked at his watch. It was still only four o'clock. He did not feel
+sleepy. The punch was finished and there was still nothing to do. He
+rose, walked to and fro, put on a warm overcoat and a hat, and went out
+of the tent. The night was dark and damp, a scarcely perceptible
+moisture was descending from above. Near by, the campfires were dimly
+burning among the French Guards, and in the distance those of the
+Russian line shone through the smoke. The weather was calm, and the
+rustle and tramp of the French troops already beginning to move to take
+up their positions were clearly audible.
+
+Napoleon walked about in front of his tent, looked at the fires and
+listened to these sounds, and as he was passing a tall guardsman in a
+shaggy cap, who was standing sentinel before his tent and had drawn
+himself up like a black pillar at sight of the Emperor, Napoleon stopped
+in front of him.
+
+"What year did you enter the service?" he asked with that affectation of
+military bluntness and geniality with which he always addressed the
+soldiers.
+
+The man answered the question.
+
+"Ah! One of the old ones! Has your regiment had its rice?"
+
+"It has, Your Majesty."
+
+Napoleon nodded and walked away.
+
+At half-past five Napoleon rode to the village of Shevardino.
+
+It was growing light, the sky was clearing, only a single cloud lay in
+the east. The abandoned campfires were burning themselves out in the
+faint morning light.
+
+On the right a single deep report of a cannon resounded and died away in
+the prevailing silence. Some minutes passed. A second and a third report
+shook the air, then a fourth and a fifth boomed solemnly near by on the
+right.
+
+The first shots had not yet ceased to reverberate before others rang out
+and yet more were heard mingling with and overtaking one another.
+
+Napoleon with his suite rode up to the Shevardino Redoubt where he
+dismounted. The game had begun.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+On returning to Gorki after having seen Prince Andrew, Pierre ordered
+his groom to get the horses ready and to call him early in the morning,
+and then immediately fell asleep behind a partition in a corner Boris
+had given up to him.
+
+Before he was thoroughly awake next morning everybody had already left
+the hut. The panes were rattling in the little windows and his groom was
+shaking him.
+
+"Your excellency! Your excellency! Your excellency!" he kept repeating
+pertinaciously while he shook Pierre by the shoulder without looking at
+him, having apparently lost hope of getting him to wake up.
+
+"What? Has it begun? Is it time?" Pierre asked, waking up.
+
+"Hear the firing," said the groom, a discharged soldier. "All the
+gentlemen have gone out, and his Serene Highness himself rode past long
+ago."
+
+Pierre dressed hastily and ran out to the porch. Outside all was bright,
+fresh, dewy, and cheerful. The sun, just bursting forth from behind a
+cloud that had concealed it, was shining, with rays still half broken by
+the clouds, over the roofs of the street opposite, on the dew-
+besprinkled dust of the road, on the walls of the houses, on the
+windows, the fence, and on Pierre's horses standing before the hut. The
+roar of guns sounded more distinct outside. An adjutant accompanied by a
+Cossack passed by at a sharp trot.
+
+"It's time, Count; it's time!" cried the adjutant.
+
+Telling the groom to follow him with the horses, Pierre went down the
+street to the knoll from which he had looked at the field of battle the
+day before. A crowd of military men was assembled there, members of the
+staff could be heard conversing in French, and Kutuzov's gray head in a
+white cap with a red band was visible, his gray nape sunk between his
+shoulders. He was looking through a field glass down the highroad before
+him.
+
+Mounting the steps to the knoll Pierre looked at the scene before him,
+spellbound by beauty. It was the same panorama he had admired from that
+spot the day before, but now the whole place was full of troops and
+covered by smoke clouds from the guns, and the slanting rays of the
+bright sun, rising slightly to the left behind Pierre, cast upon it
+through the clear morning air penetrating streaks of rosy, golden-tinted
+light and long dark shadows. The forest at the farthest extremity of the
+panorama seemed carved in some precious stone of a yellowish-green
+color; its undulating outline was silhouetted against the horizon and
+was pierced beyond Valuevo by the Smolensk highroad crowded with troops.
+Nearer at hand glittered golden cornfields interspersed with copses.
+There were troops to be seen everywhere, in front and to the right and
+left. All this was vivid, majestic, and unexpected; but what impressed
+Pierre most of all was the view of the battlefield itself, of Borodino
+and the hollows on both sides of the Kolocha.
+
+Above the Kolocha, in Borodino and on both sides of it, especially to
+the left where the Voyna flowing between its marshy banks falls into the
+Kolocha, a mist had spread which seemed to melt, to dissolve, and to
+become translucent when the brilliant sun appeared and magically colored
+and outlined everything. The smoke of the guns mingled with this mist,
+and over the whole expanse and through that mist the rays of the morning
+sun were reflected, flashing back like lightning from the water, from
+the dew, and from the bayonets of the troops crowded together by the
+riverbanks and in Borodino. A white church could be seen through the
+mist, and here and there the roofs of huts in Borodino as well as dense
+masses of soldiers, or green ammunition chests and ordnance. And all
+this moved, or seemed to move, as the smoke and mist spread out over the
+whole space. Just as in the mist-enveloped hollow near Borodino, so
+along the entire line outside and above it and especially in the woods
+and fields to the left, in the valleys and on the summits of the high
+ground, clouds of powder smoke seemed continually to spring up out of
+nothing, now singly, now several at a time, some translucent, others
+dense, which, swelling, growing, rolling, and blending, extended over
+the whole expanse.
+
+These puffs of smoke and (strange to say) the sound of the firing
+produced the chief beauty of the spectacle.
+
+"Puff!"--suddenly a round compact cloud of smoke was seen merging from
+violet into gray and milky white, and "boom!" came the report a second
+later.
+
+"Puff! puff!"--and two clouds arose pushing one another and blending
+together; and "boom, boom!" came the sounds confirming what the eye had
+seen.
+
+Pierre glanced round at the first cloud, which he had seen as a round
+compact ball, and in its place already were balloons of smoke floating
+to one side, and--"puff" (with a pause)--"puff, puff!" three and then
+four more appeared and then from each, with the same interval--"boom--
+boom, boom!" came the fine, firm, precise sounds in reply. It seemed as
+if those smoke clouds sometimes ran and sometimes stood still while
+woods, fields, and glittering bayonets ran past them. From the left,
+over fields and bushes, those large balls of smoke were continually
+appearing followed by their solemn reports, while nearer still, in the
+hollows and woods, there burst from the muskets small cloudlets that had
+no time to become balls, but had their little echoes in just the same
+way. "Trakh-ta-ta-takh!" came the frequent crackle of musketry, but it
+was irregular and feeble in comparison with the reports of the cannon.
+
+Pierre wished to be there with that smoke, those shining bayonets, that
+movement, and those sounds. He turned to look at Kutuzov and his suite,
+to compare his impressions with those of others. They were all looking
+at the field of battle as he was, and, as it seemed to him, with the
+same feelings. All their faces were now shining with that latent warmth
+of feeling Pierre had noticed the day before and had fully understood
+after his talk with Prince Andrew.
+
+"Go, my dear fellow, go... and Christ be with you!" Kutuzov was saying
+to a general who stood beside him, not taking his eye from the
+battlefield.
+
+Having received this order the general passed by Pierre on his way down
+the knoll.
+
+"To the crossing!" said the general coldly and sternly in reply to one
+of the staff who asked where he was going.
+
+"I'll go there too, I too!" thought Pierre, and followed the general.
+
+The general mounted a horse a Cossack had brought him. Pierre went to
+his groom who was holding his horses and, asking which was the quietest,
+clambered onto it, seized it by the mane, and turning out his toes
+pressed his heels against its sides and, feeling that his spectacles
+were slipping off but unable to let go of the mane and reins, he
+galloped after the general, causing the staff officers to smile as they
+watched him from the knoll.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+Having descended the hill the general after whom Pierre was galloping
+turned sharply to the left, and Pierre, losing sight of him, galloped in
+among some ranks of infantry marching ahead of him. He tried to pass
+either in front of them or to the right or left, but there were soldiers
+everywhere, all with the same preoccupied expression and busy with some
+unseen but evidently important task. They all gazed with the same
+dissatisfied and inquiring expression at this stout man in a white hat,
+who for some unknown reason threatened to trample them under his horse's
+hoofs.
+
+"Why ride into the middle of the battalion?" one of them shouted at him.
+
+Another prodded his horse with the butt end of a musket, and Pierre,
+bending over his saddlebow and hardly able to control his shying horse,
+galloped ahead of the soldiers where there was a free space.
+
+There was a bridge ahead of him, where other soldiers stood firing.
+Pierre rode up to them. Without being aware of it he had come to the
+bridge across the Kolocha between Gorki and Borodino, which the French
+(having occupied Borodino) were attacking in the first phase of the
+battle. Pierre saw that there was a bridge in front of him and that
+soldiers were doing something on both sides of it and in the meadow,
+among the rows of new-mown hay which he had taken no notice of amid the
+smoke of the campfires the day before; but despite the incessant firing
+going on there he had no idea that this was the field of battle. He did
+not notice the sound of the bullets whistling from every side, or the
+projectiles that flew over him, did not see the enemy on the other side
+of the river, and for a long time did not notice the killed and wounded,
+though many fell near him. He looked about him with a smile which did
+not leave his face.
+
+"Why's that fellow in front of the line?" shouted somebody at him again.
+
+"To the left!... Keep to the right!" the men shouted to him.
+
+Pierre went to the right, and unexpectedly encountered one of Raevski's
+adjutants whom he knew. The adjutant looked angrily at him, evidently
+also intending to shout at him, but on recognizing him he nodded.
+
+"How have you got here?" he said, and galloped on.
+
+Pierre, feeling out of place there, having nothing to do, and afraid of
+getting in someone's way again, galloped after the adjutant.
+
+"What's happening here? May I come with you?" he asked.
+
+"One moment, one moment!" replied the adjutant, and riding up to a stout
+colonel who was standing in the meadow, he gave him some message and
+then addressed Pierre.
+
+"Why have you come here, Count?" he asked with a smile. "Still
+inquisitive?"
+
+"Yes, yes," assented Pierre.
+
+But the adjutant turned his horse about and rode on.
+
+"Here it's tolerable," said he, "but with Bagration on the left flank
+they're getting it frightfully hot."
+
+"Really?" said Pierre. "Where is that?"
+
+"Come along with me to our knoll. We can get a view from there and in
+our battery it is still bearable," said the adjutant. "Will you come?"
+
+"Yes, I'll come with you," replied Pierre, looking round for his groom.
+
+It was only now that he noticed wounded men staggering along or being
+carried on stretchers. On that very meadow he had ridden over the day
+before, a soldier was lying athwart the rows of scented hay, with his
+head thrown awkwardly back and his shako off.
+
+"Why haven't they carried him away?" Pierre was about to ask, but seeing
+the stern expression of the adjutant who was also looking that way, he
+checked himself.
+
+Pierre did not find his groom and rode along the hollow with the
+adjutant to Raevski's Redoubt. His horse lagged behind the adjutant's
+and jolted him at every step.
+
+"You don't seem to be used to riding, Count?" remarked the adjutant.
+
+"No it's not that, but her action seems so jerky," said Pierre in a
+puzzled tone.
+
+"Why... she's wounded!" said the adjutant. "In the off foreleg above the
+knee. A bullet, no doubt. I congratulate you, Count, on your baptism of
+fire!"
+
+Having ridden in the smoke past the Sixth Corps, behind the artillery
+which had been moved forward and was in action, deafening them with the
+noise of firing, they came to a small wood. There it was cool and quiet,
+with a scent of autumn. Pierre and the adjutant dismounted and walked up
+the hill on foot.
+
+"Is the general here?" asked the adjutant on reaching the knoll.
+
+"He was here a minute ago but has just gone that way," someone told him,
+pointing to the right.
+
+The adjutant looked at Pierre as if puzzled what to do with him now.
+
+"Don't trouble about me," said Pierre. "I'll go up onto the knoll if I
+may?"
+
+"Yes, do. You'll see everything from there and it's less dangerous, and
+I'll come for you."
+
+Pierre went to the battery and the adjutant rode on. They did not meet
+again, and only much later did Pierre learn that he lost an arm that
+day.
+
+The knoll to which Pierre ascended was that famous one afterwards known
+to the Russians as the Knoll Battery or Raevski's Redoubt, and to the
+French as la grande redoute, la fatale redoute, la redoute du centre,
+around which tens of thousands fell, and which the French regarded as
+the key to the whole position.
+
+This redoubt consisted of a knoll, on three sides of which trenches had
+been dug. Within the entrenchment stood ten guns that were being fired
+through openings in the earthwork.
+
+In line with the knoll on both sides stood other guns which also fired
+incessantly. A little behind the guns stood infantry. When ascending
+that knoll Pierre had no notion that this spot, on which small trenches
+had been dug and from which a few guns were firing, was the most
+important point of the battle.
+
+On the contrary, just because he happened to be there he thought it one
+of the least significant parts of the field.
+
+Having reached the knoll, Pierre sat down at one end of a trench
+surrounding the battery and gazed at what was going on around him with
+an unconsciously happy smile. Occasionally he rose and walked about the
+battery still with that same smile, trying not to obstruct the soldiers
+who were loading, hauling the guns, and continually running past him
+with bags and charges. The guns of that battery were being fired
+continually one after another with a deafening roar, enveloping the
+whole neighborhood in powder smoke.
+
+In contrast with the dread felt by the infantrymen placed in support,
+here in the battery where a small number of men busy at their work were
+separated from the rest by a trench, everyone experienced a common and
+as it were family feeling of animation.
+
+The intrusion of Pierre's nonmilitary figure in a white hat made an
+unpleasant impression at first. The soldiers looked askance at him with
+surprise and even alarm as they went past him. The senior artillery
+officer, a tall, long-legged, pockmarked man, moved over to Pierre as if
+to see the action of the farthest gun and looked at him with curiosity.
+
+A young round-faced officer, quite a boy still and evidently only just
+out of the Cadet College, who was zealously commanding the two guns
+entrusted to him, addressed Pierre sternly.
+
+"Sir," he said, "permit me to ask you to stand aside. You must not be
+here."
+
+The soldiers shook their heads disapprovingly as they looked at Pierre.
+But when they had convinced themselves that this man in the white hat
+was doing no harm, but either sat quietly on the slope of the trench
+with a shy smile or, politely making way for the soldiers, paced up and
+down the battery under fire as calmly as if he were on a boulevard,
+their feeling of hostile distrust gradually began to change into a
+kindly and bantering sympathy, such as soldiers feel for their dogs,
+cocks, goats, and in general for the animals that live with the
+regiment. The men soon accepted Pierre into their family, adopted him,
+gave him a nickname ("our gentleman"), and made kindly fun of him among
+themselves.
+
+A shell tore up the earth two paces from Pierre and he looked around
+with a smile as he brushed from his clothes some earth it had thrown up.
+
+"And how's it you're not afraid, sir, really now?" a red-faced, broad-
+shouldered soldier asked Pierre, with a grin that disclosed a set of
+sound, white teeth.
+
+"Are you afraid, then?" said Pierre.
+
+"What else do you expect?" answered the soldier. "She has no mercy, you
+know! When she comes spluttering down, out go your innards. One can't
+help being afraid," he said laughing.
+
+Several of the men, with bright kindly faces, stopped beside Pierre.
+They seemed not to have expected him to talk like anybody else, and the
+discovery that he did so delighted them.
+
+"It's the business of us soldiers. But in a gentleman it's wonderful!
+There's a gentleman for you!"
+
+"To your places!" cried the young officer to the men gathered round
+Pierre.
+
+The young officer was evidently exercising his duties for the first or
+second time and therefore treated both his superiors and the men with
+great precision and formality.
+
+The booming cannonade and the fusillade of musketry were growing more
+intense over the whole field, especially to the left where Bagration's
+fleches were, but where Pierre was the smoke of the firing made it
+almost impossible to distinguish anything. Moreover, his whole attention
+was engrossed by watching the family circle--separated from all else--
+formed by the men in the battery. His first unconscious feeling of
+joyful animation produced by the sights and sounds of the battlefield
+was now replaced by another, especially since he had seen that soldier
+lying alone in the hayfield. Now, seated on the slope of the trench, he
+observed the faces of those around him.
+
+By ten o'clock some twenty men had already been carried away from the
+battery; two guns were smashed and cannon balls fell more and more
+frequently on the battery and spent bullets buzzed and whistled around.
+But the men in the battery seemed not to notice this, and merry voices
+and jokes were heard on all sides.
+
+"A live one!" shouted a man as a whistling shell approached.
+
+"Not this way! To the infantry!" added another with loud laughter,
+seeing the shell fly past and fall into the ranks of the supports.
+
+"Are you bowing to a friend, eh?" remarked another, chaffing a peasant
+who ducked low as a cannon ball flew over.
+
+Several soldiers gathered by the wall of the trench, looking out to see
+what was happening in front.
+
+"They've withdrawn the front line, it has retired," said they, pointing
+over the earthwork.
+
+"Mind your own business," an old sergeant shouted at them. "If they've
+retired it's because there's work for them to do farther back."
+
+And the sergeant, taking one of the men by the shoulders, gave him a
+shove with his knee. This was followed by a burst of laughter.
+
+"To the fifth gun, wheel it up!" came shouts from one side.
+
+"Now then, all together, like bargees!" rose the merry voices of those
+who were moving the gun.
+
+"Oh, she nearly knocked our gentleman's hat off!" cried the red-faced
+humorist, showing his teeth chaffing Pierre. "Awkward baggage!" he added
+reproachfully to a cannon ball that struck a cannon wheel and a man's
+leg.
+
+"Now then, you foxes!" said another, laughing at some militiamen who,
+stooping low, entered the battery to carry away the wounded man.
+
+"So this gruel isn't to your taste? Oh, you crows! You're scared!" they
+shouted at the militiamen who stood hesitating before the man whose leg
+had been torn off.
+
+"There, lads... oh, oh!" they mimicked the peasants, "they don't like it
+at all!"
+
+Pierre noticed that after every ball that hit the redoubt, and after
+every loss, the liveliness increased more and more.
+
+As the flames of the fire hidden within come more and more vividly and
+rapidly from an approaching thundercloud, so, as if in opposition to
+what was taking place, the lightning of hidden fire growing more and
+more intense glowed in the faces of these men.
+
+Pierre did not look out at the battlefield and was not concerned to know
+what was happening there; he was entirely absorbed in watching this fire
+which burned ever more brightly and which he felt was flaming up in the
+same way in his own soul.
+
+At ten o'clock the infantry that had been among the bushes in front of
+the battery and along the Kamenka streamlet retreated. From the battery
+they could be seen running back past it carrying their wounded on their
+muskets. A general with his suite came to the battery, and after
+speaking to the colonel gave Pierre an angry look and went away again
+having ordered the infantry supports behind the battery to lie down, so
+as to be less exposed to fire. After this from amid the ranks of
+infantry to the right of the battery came the sound of a drum and shouts
+of command, and from the battery one saw how those ranks of infantry
+moved forward.
+
+Pierre looked over the wall of the trench and was particularly struck by
+a pale young officer who, letting his sword hang down, was walking
+backwards and kept glancing uneasily around.
+
+The ranks of the infantry disappeared amid the smoke but their long-
+drawn shout and rapid musketry firing could still be heard. A few
+minutes later crowds of wounded men and stretcher-bearers came back from
+that direction. Projectiles began to fall still more frequently in the
+battery. Several men were lying about who had not been removed. Around
+the cannon the men moved still more briskly and busily. No one any
+longer took notice of Pierre. Once or twice he was shouted at for being
+in the way. The senior officer moved with big, rapid strides from one
+gun to another with a frowning face. The young officer, with his face
+still more flushed, commanded the men more scrupulously than ever. The
+soldiers handed up the charges, turned, loaded, and did their business
+with strained smartness. They gave little jumps as they walked, as
+though they were on springs.
+
+The stormcloud had come upon them, and in every face the fire which
+Pierre had watched kindle burned up brightly. Pierre standing beside the
+commanding officer. The young officer, his hand to his shako, ran up to
+his superior.
+
+"I have the honor to report, sir, that only eight rounds are left. Are
+we to continue firing?" he asked.
+
+"Grapeshot!" the senior shouted, without answering the question, looking
+over the wall of the trench.
+
+Suddenly something happened: the young officer gave a gasp and bending
+double sat down on the ground like a bird shot on the wing. Everything
+became strange, confused, and misty in Pierre's eyes.
+
+One cannon ball after another whistled by and struck the earthwork, a
+soldier, or a gun. Pierre, who had not noticed these sounds before, now
+heard nothing else. On the right of the battery soldiers shouting
+"Hurrah!" were running not forwards but backwards, it seemed to Pierre.
+
+A cannon ball struck the very end of the earth work by which he was
+standing, crumbling down the earth; a black ball flashed before his eyes
+and at the same instant plumped into something. Some militiamen who were
+entering the battery ran back.
+
+"All with grapeshot!" shouted the officer.
+
+The sergeant ran up to the officer and in a frightened whisper informed
+him (as a butler at dinner informs his master that there is no more of
+some wine asked for) that there were no more charges.
+
+"The scoundrels! What are they doing?" shouted the officer, turning to
+Pierre.
+
+The officer's face was red and perspiring and his eyes glittered under
+his frowning brow.
+
+"Run to the reserves and bring up the ammunition boxes!" he yelled,
+angrily avoiding Pierre with his eyes and speaking to his men.
+
+"I'll go," said Pierre.
+
+The officer, without answering him, strode across to the opposite side.
+
+"Don't fire.... Wait!" he shouted.
+
+The man who had been ordered to go for ammunition stumbled against
+Pierre.
+
+"Eh, sir, this is no place for you," said he, and ran down the slope.
+
+Pierre ran after him, avoiding the spot where the young officer was
+sitting.
+
+One cannon ball, another, and a third flew over him, falling in front,
+beside, and behind him. Pierre ran down the slope. "Where am I going?"
+he suddenly asked himself when he was already near the green ammunition
+wagons. He halted irresolutely, not knowing whether to return or go on.
+Suddenly a terrible concussion threw him backwards to the ground. At the
+same instant he was dazzled by a great flash of flame, and immediately a
+deafening roar, crackling, and whistling made his ears tingle.
+
+When he came to himself he was sitting on the ground leaning on his
+hands; the ammunition wagons he had been approaching no longer existed,
+only charred green boards and rags littered the scorched grass, and a
+horse, dangling fragments of its shaft behind it, galloped past, while
+another horse lay, like Pierre, on the ground, uttering prolonged and
+piercing cries.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII
+
+Beside himself with terror Pierre jumped up and ran back to the battery,
+as to the only refuge from the horrors that surrounded him.
+
+On entering the earthwork he noticed that there were men doing something
+there but that no shots were being fired from the battery. He had no
+time to realize who these men were. He saw the senior officer lying on
+the earth wall with his back turned as if he were examining something
+down below and that one of the soldiers he had noticed before was
+struggling forward shouting "Brothers!" and trying to free himself from
+some men who were holding him by the arm. He also saw something else
+that was strange.
+
+But he had not time to realize that the colonel had been killed, that
+the soldier shouting "Brothers!" was a prisoner, and that another man
+had been bayoneted in the back before his eyes, for hardly had he run
+into the redoubt before a thin, sallow-faced, perspiring man in a blue
+uniform rushed on him sword in hand, shouting something. Instinctively
+guarding against the shock--for they had been running together at full
+speed before they saw one another--Pierre put out his hands and seized
+the man (a French officer) by the shoulder with one hand and by the
+throat with the other. The officer, dropping his sword, seized Pierre by
+his collar.
+
+For some seconds they gazed with frightened eyes at one another's
+unfamiliar faces and both were perplexed at what they had done and what
+they were to do next. "Am I taken prisoner or have I taken him
+prisoner?" each was thinking. But the French officer was evidently more
+inclined to think he had been taken prisoner because Pierre's strong
+hand, impelled by instinctive fear, squeezed his throat ever tighter and
+tighter. The Frenchman was about to say something, when just above their
+heads, terrible and low, a cannon ball whistled, and it seemed to Pierre
+that the French officer's head had been torn off, so swiftly had he
+ducked it.
+
+Pierre too bent his head and let his hands fall. Without further thought
+as to who had taken whom prisoner, the Frenchman ran back to the battery
+and Pierre ran down the slope stumbling over the dead and wounded who,
+it seemed to him, caught at his feet. But before he reached the foot of
+the knoll he was met by a dense crowd of Russian soldiers who,
+stumbling, tripping up, and shouting, ran merrily and wildly toward the
+battery. (This was the attack for which Ermolov claimed the credit,
+declaring that only his courage and good luck made such a feat possible:
+it was the attack in which he was said to have thrown some St. George's
+Crosses he had in his pocket into the battery for the first soldiers to
+take who got there.)
+
+The French who had occupied the battery fled, and our troops shouting
+"Hurrah!" pursued them so far beyond the battery that it was difficult
+to call them back.
+
+The prisoners were brought down from the battery and among them was a
+wounded French general, whom the officers surrounded. Crowds of wounded-
+-some known to Pierre and some unknown--Russians and French, with faces
+distorted by suffering, walked, crawled, and were carried on stretchers
+from the battery. Pierre again went up onto the knoll where he had spent
+over an hour, and of that family circle which had received him as a
+member he did not find a single one. There were many dead whom he did
+not know, but some he recognized. The young officer still sat in the
+same way, bent double, in a pool of blood at the edge of the earth wall.
+The red-faced man was still twitching, but they did not carry him away.
+
+Pierre ran down the slope once more.
+
+"Now they will stop it, now they will be horrified at what they have
+done!" he thought, aimlessly going toward a crowd of stretcher bearers
+moving from the battlefield.
+
+But behind the veil of smoke the sun was still high, and in front and
+especially to the left, near Semenovsk, something seemed to be seething
+in the smoke, and the roar of cannon and musketry did not diminish, but
+even increased to desperation like a man who, straining himself, shrieks
+with all his remaining strength.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII
+
+The chief action of the battle of Borodino was fought within the seven
+thousand feet between Borodino and Bagration's fleches. Beyond that
+space there was, on the one side, a demonstration made by the Russians
+with Uvarov's cavalry at midday, and on the other side, beyond Utitsa,
+Poniatowski's collision with Tuchkov; but these two were detached and
+feeble actions in comparison with what took place in the center of the
+battlefield. On the field between Borodino and the fleches, beside the
+wood, the chief action of the day took place on an open space visible
+from both sides and was fought in the simplest and most artless way.
+
+The battle began on both sides with a cannonade from several hundred
+guns.
+
+Then when the whole field was covered with smoke, two divisions,
+Campan's and Dessaix's, advanced from the French right, while Murat's
+troops advanced on Borodino from their left.
+
+From the Shevardino Redoubt where Napoleon was standing the fleches were
+two thirds of a mile away, and it was more than a mile as the crow flies
+to Borodino, so that Napoleon could not see what was happening there,
+especially as the smoke mingling with the mist hid the whole locality.
+The soldiers of Dessaix's division advancing against the fleches could
+only be seen till they had entered the hollow that lay between them and
+the fleches. As soon as they had descended into that hollow, the smoke
+of the guns and musketry on the fleches grew so dense that it covered
+the whole approach on that side of it. Through the smoke glimpses could
+be caught of something black--probably men--and at times the glint of
+bayonets. But whether they were moving or stationary, whether they were
+French or Russian, could not be discovered from the Shevardino Redoubt.
+
+The sun had risen brightly and its slanting rays struck straight into
+Napoleon's face as, shading his eyes with his hand, he looked at the
+fleches. The smoke spread out before them, and at times it looked as if
+the smoke were moving, at times as if the troops moved. Sometimes shouts
+were heard through the firing, but it was impossible to tell what was
+being done there.
+
+Napoleon, standing on the knoll, looked through a field glass, and in
+its small circlet saw smoke and men, sometimes his own and sometimes
+Russians, but when he looked again with the naked eye, he could not tell
+where what he had seen was.
+
+He descended the knoll and began walking up and down before it.
+
+Occasionally he stopped, listened to the firing, and gazed intently at
+the battlefield.
+
+But not only was it impossible to make out what was happening from where
+he was standing down below, or from the knoll above on which some of his
+generals had taken their stand, but even from the fleches themselves--in
+which by this time there were now Russian and now French soldiers,
+alternately or together, dead, wounded, alive, frightened, or maddened--
+even at those fleches themselves it was impossible to make out what was
+taking place. There for several hours amid incessant cannon and musketry
+fire, now Russians were seen alone, now Frenchmen alone, now infantry,
+and now cavalry: they appeared, fired, fell, collided, not knowing what
+to do with one another, screamed, and ran back again.
+
+From the battlefield adjutants he had sent out, and orderlies from his
+marshals, kept galloping up to Napoleon with reports of the progress of
+the action, but all these reports were false, both because it was
+impossible in the heat of battle to say what was happening at any given
+moment and because many of the adjutants did not go to the actual place
+of conflict but reported what they had heard from others; and also
+because while an adjutant was riding more than a mile to Napoleon
+circumstances changed and the news he brought was already becoming
+false. Thus an adjutant galloped up from Murat with tidings that
+Borodino had been occupied and the bridge over the Kolocha was in the
+hands of the French. The adjutant asked whether Napoleon wished the
+troops to cross it? Napoleon gave orders that the troops should form up
+on the farther side and wait. But before that order was given--almost as
+soon in fact as the adjutant had left Borodino--the bridge had been
+retaken by the Russians and burned, in the very skirmish at which Pierre
+had been present at the beginning of the battle.
+
+An adjutant galloped up from the fleches with a pale and frightened face
+and reported to Napoleon that their attack had been repulsed, Campan
+wounded, and Davout killed; yet at the very time the adjutant had been
+told that the French had been repulsed, the fleches had in fact been
+recaptured by other French troops, and Davout was alive and only
+slightly bruised. On the basis of these necessarily untrustworthy
+reports Napoleon gave his orders, which had either been executed before
+he gave them or could not be and were not executed.
+
+The marshals and generals, who were nearer to the field of battle but,
+like Napoleon, did not take part in the actual fighting and only
+occasionally went within musket range, made their own arrangements
+without asking Napoleon and issued orders where and in what direction to
+fire and where cavalry should gallop and infantry should run. But even
+their orders, like Napoleon's, were seldom carried out, and then but
+partially. For the most part things happened contrary to their orders.
+Soldiers ordered to advance ran back on meeting grapeshot; soldiers
+ordered to remain where they were, suddenly, seeing Russians
+unexpectedly before them, sometimes rushed back and sometimes forward,
+and the cavalry dashed without orders in pursuit of the flying Russians.
+In this way two cavalry regiments galloped through the Semenovsk hollow
+and as soon as they reached the top of the incline turned round and
+galloped full speed back again. The infantry moved in the same way,
+sometimes running to quite other places than those they were ordered to
+go to. All orders as to where and when to move the guns, when to send
+infantry to shoot or horsemen to ride down the Russian infantry--all
+such orders were given by the officers on the spot nearest to the units
+concerned, without asking either Ney, Davout, or Murat, much less
+Napoleon. They did not fear getting into trouble for not fulfilling
+orders or for acting on their own initiative, for in battle what is at
+stake is what is dearest to man--his own life--and it sometimes seems
+that safety lies in running back, sometimes in running forward; and
+these men who were right in the heat of the battle acted according to
+the mood of the moment. In reality, however, all these movements forward
+and backward did not improve or alter the position of the troops. All
+their rushing and galloping at one another did little harm, the harm of
+disablement and death was caused by the balls and bullets that flew over
+the fields on which these men were floundering about. As soon as they
+left the place where the balls and bullets were flying about, their
+superiors, located in the background, re-formed them and brought them
+under discipline and under the influence of that discipline led them
+back to the zone of fire, where under the influence of fear of death
+they lost their discipline and rushed about according to the chance
+promptings of the throng.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV
+
+Napoleon's generals--Davout, Ney, and Murat, who were near that region
+of fire and sometimes even entered it--repeatedly led into it huge
+masses of well-ordered troops. But contrary to what had always happened
+in their former battles, instead of the news they expected of the
+enemy's flight, these orderly masses returned thence as disorganized and
+terrified mobs. The generals re-formed them, but their numbers
+constantly decreased. In the middle of the day Murat sent his adjutant
+to Napoleon to demand reinforcements.
+
+Napoleon sat at the foot of the knoll, drinking punch, when Murat's
+adjutant galloped up with an assurance that the Russians would be routed
+if His Majesty would let him have another division.
+
+"Reinforcements?" said Napoleon in a tone of stern surprise, looking at
+the adjutant--a handsome lad with long black curls arranged like Murat's
+own--as though he did not understand his words.
+
+"Reinforcements!" thought Napoleon to himself. "How can they need
+reinforcements when they already have half the army directed against a
+weak, unentrenched Russian wing?"
+
+"Tell the King of Naples," said he sternly, "that it is not noon yet,
+and I don't yet see my chessboard clearly. Go!..."
+
+The handsome boy adjutant with the long hair sighed deeply without
+removing his hand from his hat and galloped back to where men were being
+slaughtered.
+
+Napoleon rose and having summoned Caulaincourt and Berthier began
+talking to them about matters unconnected with the battle.
+
+In the midst of this conversation, which was beginning to interest
+Napoleon, Berthier's eyes turned to look at a general with a suite, who
+was galloping toward the knoll on a lathering horse. It was Belliard.
+Having dismounted he went up to the Emperor with rapid strides and in a
+loud voice began boldly demonstrating the necessity of sending
+reinforcements. He swore on his honor that the Russians were lost if the
+Emperor would give another division.
+
+Napoleon shrugged his shoulders and continued to pace up and down
+without replying. Belliard began talking loudly and eagerly to the
+generals of the suite around him.
+
+"You are very fiery, Belliard," said Napoleon, when he again came up to
+the general. "In the heat of a battle it is easy to make a mistake. Go
+and have another look and then come back to me."
+
+Before Belliard was out of sight, a messenger from another part of the
+battlefield galloped up.
+
+"Now then, what do you want?" asked Napoleon in the tone of a man
+irritated at being continually disturbed.
+
+"Sire, the prince..." began the adjutant.
+
+"Asks for reinforcements?" said Napoleon with an angry gesture.
+
+The adjutant bent his head affirmatively and began to report, but the
+Emperor turned from him, took a couple of steps, stopped, came back, and
+called Berthier.
+
+"We must give reserves," he said, moving his arms slightly apart. "Who
+do you think should be sent there?" he asked of Berthier (whom he
+subsequently termed "that gosling I have made an eagle").
+
+"Send Claparede's division, sire," replied Berthier, who knew all the
+division's regiments, and battalions by heart.
+
+Napoleon nodded assent.
+
+The adjutant galloped to Claparede's division and a few minutes later
+the Young Guards stationed behind the knoll moved forward. Napoleon
+gazed silently in that direction.
+
+"No!" he suddenly said to Berthier. "I can't send Claparede. Send
+Friant's division."
+
+Though there was no advantage in sending Friant's division instead of
+Claparede's, and even an obvious inconvenience and delay in stopping
+Claparede and sending Friant now, the order was carried out exactly.
+Napoleon did not notice that in regard to his army he was playing the
+part of a doctor who hinders by his medicines--a role he so justly
+understood and condemned.
+
+Friant's division disappeared as the others had done into the smoke of
+the battlefield. From all sides adjutants continued to arrive at a
+gallop and as if by agreement all said the same thing. They all asked
+for reinforcements and all said that the Russians were holding their
+positions and maintaining a hellish fire under which the French army was
+melting away.
+
+Napoleon sat on a campstool, wrapped in thought.
+
+M. de Beausset, the man so fond of travel, having fasted since morning,
+came up to the Emperor and ventured respectfully to suggest lunch to His
+Majesty.
+
+"I hope I may now congratulate Your Majesty on a victory?" said he.
+
+Napoleon silently shook his head in negation. Assuming the negation to
+refer only to the victory and not to the lunch, M. de Beausset ventured
+with respectful jocularity to remark that there is no reason for not
+having lunch when one can get it.
+
+"Go away..." exclaimed Napoleon suddenly and morosely, and turned aside.
+
+A beatific smile of regret, repentance, and ecstasy beamed on M. de
+Beausset's face and he glided away to the other generals.
+
+Napoleon was experiencing a feeling of depression like that of an ever-
+lucky gambler who, after recklessly flinging money about and always
+winning, suddenly just when he has calculated all the chances of the
+game, finds that the more he considers his play the more surely he
+loses.
+
+His troops were the same, his generals the same, the same preparations
+had been made, the same dispositions, and the same proclamation courte
+et energique, he himself was still the same: he knew that and knew that
+he was now even more experienced and skillful than before. Even the
+enemy was the same as at Austerlitz and Friedland--yet the terrible
+stroke of his arm had supernaturally become impotent.
+
+All the old methods that had been unfailingly crowned with success: the
+concentration of batteries on one point, an attack by reserves to break
+the enemy's line, and a cavalry attack by "the men of iron," all these
+methods had already been employed, yet not only was there no victory,
+but from all sides came the same news of generals killed and wounded, of
+reinforcements needed, of the impossibility of driving back the
+Russians, and of disorganization among his own troops.
+
+Formerly, after he had given two or three orders and uttered a few
+phrases, marshals and adjutants had come galloping up with
+congratulations and happy faces, announcing the trophies taken, the
+corps of prisoners, bundles of enemy eagles and standards, cannon and
+stores, and Murat had only begged leave to loose the cavalry to gather
+in the baggage wagons. So it had been at Lodi, Marengo, Arcola, Jena,
+Austerlitz, Wagram, and so on. But now something strange was happening
+to his troops.
+
+Despite news of the capture of the fleches, Napoleon saw that this was
+not the same, not at all the same, as what had happened in his former
+battles. He saw that what he was feeling was felt by all the men about
+him experienced in the art of war. All their faces looked dejected, and
+they all shunned one another's eyes--only a de Beausset could fail to
+grasp the meaning of what was happening.
+
+But Napoleon with his long experience of war well knew the meaning of a
+battle not gained by the attacking side in eight hours, after all
+efforts had been expended. He knew that it was a lost battle and that
+the least accident might now--with the fight balanced on such a strained
+center--destroy him and his army.
+
+When he ran his mind over the whole of this strange Russian campaign in
+which not one battle had been won, and in which not a flag, or cannon,
+or army corps had been captured in two months, when he looked at the
+concealed depression on the faces around him and heard reports of the
+Russians still holding their ground--a terrible feeling like a nightmare
+took possession of him, and all the unlucky accidents that might destroy
+him occurred to his mind. The Russians might fall on his left wing,
+might break through his center, he himself might be killed by a stray
+cannon ball. All this was possible. In former battles he had only
+considered the possibilities of success, but now innumerable unlucky
+chances presented themselves, and he expected them all. Yes, it was like
+a dream in which a man fancies that a ruffian is coming to attack him,
+and raises his arm to strike that ruffian a terrible blow which he knows
+should annihilate him, but then feels that his arm drops powerless and
+limp like a rag, and the horror of unavoidable destruction seizes him in
+his helplessness.
+
+The news that the Russians were attacking the left flank of the French
+army aroused that horror in Napoleon. He sat silently on a campstool
+below the knoll, with head bowed and elbows on his knees. Berthier
+approached and suggested that they should ride along the line to
+ascertain the position of affairs.
+
+"What? What do you say?" asked Napoleon. "Yes, tell them to bring me my
+horse."
+
+He mounted and rode toward Semenovsk.
+
+Amid the powder smoke, slowly dispersing over the whole space through
+which Napoleon rode, horses and men were lying in pools of blood, singly
+or in heaps. Neither Napoleon nor any of his generals had ever before
+seen such horrors or so many slain in such a small area. The roar of
+guns, that had not ceased for ten hours, wearied the ear and gave a
+peculiar significance to the spectacle, as music does to tableaux
+vivants. Napoleon rode up the high ground at Semenovsk, and through the
+smoke saw ranks of men in uniforms of a color unfamiliar to him. They
+were Russians.
+
+The Russians stood in serried ranks behind Semenovsk village and its
+knoll, and their guns boomed incessantly along their line and sent forth
+clouds of smoke. It was no longer a battle: it was a continuous
+slaughter which could be of no avail either to the French or the
+Russians. Napoleon stopped his horse and again fell into the reverie
+from which Berthier had aroused him. He could not stop what was going on
+before him and around him and was supposed to be directed by him and to
+depend on him, and from its lack of success this affair, for the first
+time, seemed to him unnecessary and horrible.
+
+One of the generals rode up to Napoleon and ventured to offer to lead
+the Old Guard into action. Ney and Berthier, standing near Napoleon,
+exchanged looks and smiled contemptuously at this general's senseless
+offer.
+
+Napoleon bowed his head and remained silent a long time.
+
+"At eight hundred leagues from France, I will not have my Guard
+destroyed!" he said, and turning his horse rode back to Shevardino.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV
+
+On the rug-covered bench where Pierre had seen him in the morning sat
+Kutuzov, his gray head hanging, his heavy body relaxed. He gave no
+orders, but only assented to or dissented from what others suggested.
+
+"Yes, yes, do that," he replied to various proposals. "Yes, yes: go,
+dear boy, and have a look," he would say to one or another of those
+about him; or, "No, don't, we'd better wait!" He listened to the reports
+that were brought him and gave directions when his subordinates demanded
+that of him; but when listening to the reports it seemed as if he were
+not interested in the import of the words spoken, but rather in
+something else--in the expression of face and tone of voice of those who
+were reporting. By long years of military experience he knew, and with
+the wisdom of age understood, that it is impossible for one man to
+direct hundreds of thousands of others struggling with death, and he
+knew that the result of a battle is decided not by the orders of a
+commander-in-chief, nor the place where the troops are stationed, nor by
+the number of cannon or of slaughtered men, but by that intangible force
+called the spirit of the army, and he watched this force and guided it
+in as far as that was in his power.
+
+Kutuzov's general expression was one of concentrated quiet attention,
+and his face wore a strained look as if he found it difficult to master
+the fatigue of his old and feeble body.
+
+At eleven o'clock they brought him news that the fleches captured by the
+French had been retaken, but that Prince Bagration was wounded. Kutuzov
+groaned and swayed his head.
+
+"Ride over to Prince Peter Ivanovich and find out about it exactly," he
+said to one of his adjutants, and then turned to the Duke of Wurttemberg
+who was standing behind him.
+
+"Will Your Highness please take command of the first army?"
+
+Soon after the duke's departure--before he could possibly have reached
+Semenovsk--his adjutant came back from him and told Kutuzov that the
+duke asked for more troops.
+
+Kutuzov made a grimace and sent an order to Dokhturov to take over the
+command of the first army, and a request to the duke--whom he said he
+could not spare at such an important moment--to return to him. When they
+brought him news that Murat had been taken prisoner, and the staff
+officers congratulated him, Kutuzov smiled.
+
+"Wait a little, gentlemen," said he. "The battle is won, and there is
+nothing extraordinary in the capture of Murat. Still, it is better to
+wait before we rejoice."
+
+But he sent an adjutant to take the news round the army.
+
+When Scherbinin came galloping from the left flank with news that the
+French had captured the fleches and the village of Semenovsk, Kutuzov,
+guessing by the sounds of the battle and by Scherbinin's looks that the
+news was bad, rose as if to stretch his legs and, taking Scherbinin's
+arm, led him aside.
+
+"Go, my dear fellow," he said to Ermolov, "and see whether something
+can't be done."
+
+Kutuzov was in Gorki, near the center of the Russian position. The
+attack directed by Napoleon against our left flank had been several
+times repulsed. In the center the French had not got beyond Borodino,
+and on their left flank Uvarov's cavalry had put the French to flight.
+
+Toward three o'clock the French attacks ceased. On the faces of all who
+came from the field of battle, and of those who stood around him,
+Kutuzov noticed an expression of extreme tension. He was satisfied with
+the day's success--a success exceeding his expectations, but the old
+man's strength was failing him. Several times his head dropped low as if
+it were falling and he dozed off. Dinner was brought him.
+
+Adjutant General Wolzogen, the man who when riding past Prince Andrew
+had said, "the war should be extended widely," and whom Bagration so
+detested, rode up while Kutuzov was at dinner. Wolzogen had come from
+Barclay de Tolly to report on the progress of affairs on the left flank.
+The sagacious Barclay de Tolly, seeing crowds of wounded men running
+back and the disordered rear of the army, weighed all the circumstances,
+concluded that the battle was lost, and sent his favorite officer to the
+commander in chief with that news.
+
+Kutuzov was chewing a piece of roast chicken with difficulty and glanced
+at Wolzogen with eyes that brightened under their puckering lids.
+
+Wolzogen, nonchalantly stretching his legs, approached Kutuzov with a
+half-contemptuous smile on his lips, scarcely touching the peak of his
+cap.
+
+He treated his Serene Highness with a somewhat affected nonchalance
+intended to show that, as a highly trained military man, he left it to
+Russians to make an idol of this useless old man, but that he knew whom
+he was dealing with. "Der alte Herr" (as in their own set the Germans
+called Kutuzov) "is making himself very comfortable," thought Wolzogen,
+and looking severely at the dishes in front of Kutuzov he began to
+report to "the old gentleman" the position of affairs on the left flank
+as Barclay had ordered him to and as he himself had seen and understood
+it.
+
+"All the points of our position are in the enemy's hands and we cannot
+dislodge them for lack of troops, the men are running away and it is
+impossible to stop them," he reported.
+
+Kutuzov ceased chewing and fixed an astonished gaze on Wolzogen, as if
+not understanding what was said to him. Wolzogen, noticing "the old
+gentleman's" agitation, said with a smile:
+
+"I have not considered it right to conceal from your Serene Highness
+what I have seen. The troops are in complete disorder..."
+
+"You have seen? You have seen?..." Kutuzov shouted. Frowning and rising
+quickly, he went up to Wolzogen.
+
+"How... how dare you!..." he shouted, choking and making a threatening
+gesture with his trembling arms: "How dare you, sir, say that to me? You
+know nothing about it. Tell General Barclay from me that his information
+is incorrect and that the real course of the battle is better known to
+me, the commander-in-chief, than to him."
+
+Wolzogen was about to make a rejoinder, but Kutuzov interrupted him.
+
+"The enemy has been repulsed on the left and defeated on the right
+flank. If you have seen amiss, sir, do not allow yourself to say what
+you don't know! Be so good as to ride to General Barclay and inform him
+of my firm intention to attack the enemy tomorrow," said Kutuzov
+sternly.
+
+All were silent, and the only sound audible was the heavy breathing of
+the panting old general.
+
+"They are repulsed everywhere, for which I thank God and our brave army!
+The enemy is beaten, and tomorrow we shall drive him from the sacred
+soil of Russia," said Kutuzov crossing himself, and he suddenly sobbed
+as his eyes filled with tears.
+
+Wolzogen, shrugging his shoulders and curling his lips, stepped silently
+aside, marveling at "the old gentleman's" conceited stupidity.
+
+"Ah, here he is, my hero!" said Kutuzov to a portly, handsome, dark-
+haired general who was just ascending the knoll.
+
+This was Raevski, who had spent the whole day at the most important part
+of the field of Borodino.
+
+Raevski reported that the troops were firmly holding their ground and
+that the French no longer ventured to attack.
+
+After hearing him, Kutuzov said in French:
+
+"Then you do not think, like some others, that we must retreat?"
+
+"On the contrary, your Highness, in indecisive actions it is always the
+most stubborn who remain victors," replied Raevski, "and in my
+opinion..."
+
+"Kaysarov!" Kutuzov called to his adjutant. "Sit down and write out the
+order of the day for tomorrow. And you," he continued, addressing
+another, "ride along the line and announce that tomorrow we attack."
+
+While Kutuzov was talking to Raevski and dictating the order of the day,
+Wolzogen returned from Barclay and said that General Barclay wished to
+have written confirmation of the order the field marshal had given.
+
+Kutuzov, without looking at Wolzogen, gave directions for the order to
+be written out which the former commander-in-chief, to avoid personal
+responsibility, very judiciously wished to receive.
+
+And by means of that mysterious indefinable bond which maintains
+throughout an army one and the same temper, known as "the spirit of the
+army," and which constitutes the sinew of war, Kutuzov's words, his
+order for a battle next day, immediately became known from one end of
+the army to the other.
+
+It was far from being the same words or the same order that reached the
+farthest links of that chain. The tales passing from mouth to mouth at
+different ends of the army did not even resemble what Kutuzov had said,
+but the sense of his words spread everywhere because what he said was
+not the outcome of cunning calculations, but of a feeling that lay in
+the commander-in-chief's soul as in that of every Russian.
+
+And on learning that tomorrow they were to attack the enemy, and hearing
+from the highest quarters a confirmation of what they wanted to believe,
+the exhausted, wavering men felt comforted and inspirited.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI
+
+Prince Andrew's regiment was among the reserves which till after one
+o'clock were stationed inactive behind Semenovsk, under heavy artillery
+fire. Toward two o'clock the regiment, having already lost more than two
+hundred men, was moved forward into a trampled oatfield in the gap
+between Semenovsk and the Knoll Battery, where thousands of men perished
+that day and on which an intense, concentrated fire from several hundred
+enemy guns was directed between one and two o'clock.
+
+Without moving from that spot or firing a single shot the regiment here
+lost another third of its men. From in front and especially from the
+right, in the unlifting smoke the guns boomed, and out of the mysterious
+domain of smoke that overlay the whole space in front, quick hissing
+cannon balls and slow whistling shells flew unceasingly. At times, as if
+to allow them a respite, a quarter of an hour passed during which the
+cannon balls and shells all flew overhead, but sometimes several men
+were torn from the regiment in a minute and the slain were continually
+being dragged away and the wounded carried off.
+
+With each fresh blow less and less chance of life remained for those not
+yet killed. The regiment stood in columns of battalion, three hundred
+paces apart, but nevertheless the men were always in one and the same
+mood. All alike were taciturn and morose. Talk was rarely heard in the
+ranks, and it ceased altogether every time the thud of a successful shot
+and the cry of "stretchers!" was heard. Most of the time, by their
+officers' order, the men sat on the ground. One, having taken off his
+shako, carefully loosened the gathers of its lining and drew them tight
+again; another, rubbing some dry clay between his palms, polished his
+bayonet; another fingered the strap and pulled the buckle of his
+bandolier, while another smoothed and refolded his leg bands and put his
+boots on again. Some built little houses of the tufts in the plowed
+ground, or plaited baskets from the straw in the cornfield. All seemed
+fully absorbed in these pursuits. When men were killed or wounded, when
+rows of stretchers went past, when some troops retreated, and when great
+masses of the enemy came into view through the smoke, no one paid any
+attention to these things. But when our artillery or cavalry advanced or
+some of our infantry were seen to move forward, words of approval were
+heard on all sides. But the liveliest attention was attracted by
+occurrences quite apart from, and unconnected with, the battle. It was
+as if the minds of these morally exhausted men found relief in everyday,
+commonplace occurrences. A battery of artillery was passing in front of
+the regiment. The horse of an ammunition cart put its leg over a trace.
+"Hey, look at the trace horse!... Get her leg out! She'll fall.... Ah,
+they don't see it!" came identical shouts from the ranks all along the
+regiment. Another time, general attention was attracted by a small brown
+dog, coming heaven knows whence, which trotted in a preoccupied manner
+in front of the ranks with tail stiffly erect till suddenly a shell fell
+close by, when it yelped, tucked its tail between its legs, and darted
+aside. Yells and shrieks of laughter rose from the whole regiment. But
+such distractions lasted only a moment, and for eight hours the men had
+been inactive, without food, in constant fear of death, and their pale
+and gloomy faces grew ever paler and gloomier.
+
+Prince Andrew, pale and gloomy like everyone in the regiment, paced up
+and down from the border of one patch to another, at the edge of the
+meadow beside an oatfield, with head bowed and arms behind his back.
+There was nothing for him to do and no orders to be given. Everything
+went on of itself. The killed were dragged from the front, the wounded
+carried away, and the ranks closed up. If any soldiers ran to the rear
+they returned immediately and hastily. At first Prince Andrew,
+considering it his duty to rouse the courage of the men and to set them
+an example, walked about among the ranks, but he soon became convinced
+that this was unnecessary and that there was nothing he could teach
+them. All the powers of his soul, as of every soldier there, were
+unconsciously bent on avoiding the contemplation of the horrors of their
+situation. He walked along the meadow, dragging his feet, rustling the
+grass, and gazing at the dust that covered his boots; now he took big
+strides trying to keep to the footprints left on the meadow by the
+mowers, then he counted his steps, calculating how often he must walk
+from one strip to another to walk a mile, then he stripped the flowers
+from the wormwood that grew along a boundary rut, rubbed them in his
+palms, and smelled their pungent, sweetly bitter scent. Nothing remained
+of the previous day's thoughts. He thought of nothing. He listened with
+weary ears to the ever-recurring sounds, distinguishing the whistle of
+flying projectiles from the booming of the reports, glanced at the
+tiresomely familiar faces of the men of the first battalion, and waited.
+"Here it comes... this one is coming our way again!" he thought,
+listening to an approaching whistle in the hidden region of smoke. "One,
+another! Again! It has hit...." He stopped and looked at the ranks. "No,
+it has gone over. But this one has hit!" And again he started trying to
+reach the boundary strip in sixteen paces. A whizz and a thud! Five
+paces from him, a cannon ball tore up the dry earth and disappeared. A
+chill ran down his back. Again he glanced at the ranks. Probably many
+had been hit--a large crowd had gathered near the second battalion.
+
+"Adjutant!" he shouted. "Order them not to crowd together."
+
+The adjutant, having obeyed this instruction, approached Prince Andrew.
+From the other side a battalion commander rode up.
+
+"Look out!" came a frightened cry from a soldier and, like a bird
+whirring in rapid flight and alighting on the ground, a shell dropped
+with little noise within two steps of Prince Andrew and close to the
+battalion commander's horse. The horse first, regardless of whether it
+was right or wrong to show fear, snorted, reared almost throwing the
+major, and galloped aside. The horse's terror infected the men.
+
+"Lie down!" cried the adjutant, throwing himself flat on the ground.
+
+Prince Andrew hesitated. The smoking shell spun like a top between him
+and the prostrate adjutant, near a wormwood plant between the field and
+the meadow.
+
+"Can this be death?" thought Prince Andrew, looking with a quite new,
+envious glance at the grass, the wormwood, and the streamlet of smoke
+that curled up from the rotating black ball. "I cannot, I do not wish to
+die. I love life--I love this grass, this earth, this air...." He
+thought this, and at the same time remembered that people were looking
+at him.
+
+"It's shameful, sir!" he said to the adjutant. "What..."
+
+He did not finish speaking. At one and the same moment came the sound of
+an explosion, a whistle of splinters as from a breaking window frame, a
+suffocating smell of powder, and Prince Andrew started to one side,
+raising his arm, and fell on his chest. Several officers ran up to him.
+From the right side of his abdomen, blood was welling out making a large
+stain on the grass.
+
+The militiamen with stretchers who were called up stood behind the
+officers. Prince Andrew lay on his chest with his face in the grass,
+breathing heavily and noisily.
+
+"What are you waiting for? Come along!"
+
+The peasants went up and took him by his shoulders and legs, but he
+moaned piteously and, exchanging looks, they set him down again.
+
+"Pick him up, lift him, it's all the same!" cried someone.
+
+They again took him by the shoulders and laid him on the stretcher.
+
+"Ah, God! My God! What is it? The stomach? That means death! My God!"--
+voices among the officers were heard saying.
+
+"It flew a hair's breadth past my ear," said the adjutant.
+
+The peasants, adjusting the stretcher to their shoulders, started
+hurriedly along the path they had trodden down, to the dressing station.
+
+"Keep in step! Ah... those peasants!" shouted an officer, seizing by
+their shoulders and checking the peasants, who were walking unevenly and
+jolting the stretcher.
+
+"Get into step, Fedor... I say, Fedor!" said the foremost peasant.
+
+"Now that's right!" said the one behind joyfully, when he had got into
+step.
+
+"Your excellency! Eh, Prince!" said the trembling voice of Timokhin, who
+had run up and was looking down on the stretcher.
+
+Prince Andrew opened his eyes and looked up at the speaker from the
+stretcher into which his head had sunk deep and again his eyelids
+drooped.
+
+The militiamen carried Prince Andrew to the dressing station by the
+wood, where wagons were stationed. The dressing station consisted of
+three tents with flaps turned back, pitched at the edge of a birch wood.
+In the wood, wagons and horses were standing. The horses were eating
+oats from their movable troughs and sparrows flew down and pecked the
+grains that fell. Some crows, scenting blood, flew among the birch trees
+cawing impatiently. Around the tents, over more than five acres,
+bloodstained men in various garbs stood, sat, or lay. Around the wounded
+stood crowds of soldier stretcher-bearers with dismal and attentive
+faces, whom the officers keeping order tried in vain to drive from the
+spot. Disregarding the officers' orders, the soldiers stood leaning
+against their stretchers and gazing intently, as if trying to comprehend
+the difficult problem of what was taking place before them. From the
+tents came now loud angry cries and now plaintive groans. Occasionally
+dressers ran out to fetch water, or to point out those who were to be
+brought in next. The wounded men awaiting their turn outside the tents
+groaned, sighed, wept, screamed, swore, or asked for vodka. Some were
+delirious. Prince Andrew's bearers, stepping over the wounded who had
+not yet been bandaged, took him, as a regimental commander, close up to
+one of the tents and there stopped, awaiting instructions. Prince Andrew
+opened his eyes and for a long time could not make out what was going on
+around him. He remembered the meadow, the wormwood, the field, the
+whirling black ball, and his sudden rush of passionate love of life. Two
+steps from him, leaning against a branch and talking loudly and
+attracting general attention, stood a tall, handsome, black-haired
+noncommissioned officer with a bandaged head. He had been wounded in the
+head and leg by bullets. Around him, eagerly listening to his talk, a
+crowd of wounded and stretcher-bearers was gathered.
+
+"We kicked him out from there so that he chucked everything, we grabbed
+the King himself!" cried he, looking around him with eyes that glittered
+with fever. "If only reserves had come up just then, lads, there
+wouldn't have been nothing left of him! I tell you surely..."
+
+Like all the others near the speaker, Prince Andrew looked at him with
+shining eyes and experienced a sense of comfort. "But isn't it all the
+same now?" thought he. "And what will be there, and what has there been
+here? Why was I so reluctant to part with life? There was something in
+this life I did not and do not understand."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII
+
+One of the doctors came out of the tent in a bloodstained apron, holding
+a cigar between the thumb and little finger of one of his small
+bloodstained hands, so as not to smear it. He raised his head and looked
+about him, but above the level of the wounded men. He evidently wanted a
+little respite. After turning his head from right to left for some time,
+he sighed and looked down.
+
+"All right, immediately," he replied to a dresser who pointed Prince
+Andrew out to him, and he told them to carry him into the tent.
+
+Murmurs arose among the wounded who were waiting.
+
+"It seems that even in the next world only the gentry are to have a
+chance!" remarked one.
+
+Prince Andrew was carried in and laid on a table that had only just been
+cleared and which a dresser was washing down. Prince Andrew could not
+make out distinctly what was in that tent. The pitiful groans from all
+sides and the torturing pain in his thigh, stomach, and back distracted
+him. All he saw about him merged into a general impression of naked,
+bleeding human bodies that seemed to fill the whole of the low tent, as
+a few weeks previously, on that hot August day, such bodies had filled
+the dirty pond beside the Smolensk road. Yes, it was the same flesh, the
+same chair a canon, the sight of which had even then filled him with
+horror, as by a presentiment.
+
+There were three operating tables in the tent. Two were occupied, and on
+the third they placed Prince Andrew. For a little while he was left
+alone and involuntarily witnessed what was taking place on the other two
+tables. On the nearest one sat a Tartar, probably a Cossack, judging by
+the uniform thrown down beside him. Four soldiers were holding him, and
+a spectacled doctor was cutting into his muscular brown back.
+
+"Ooh, ooh, ooh!" grunted the Tartar, and suddenly lifting up his swarthy
+snub-nosed face with its high cheekbones, and baring his white teeth, he
+began to wriggle and twitch his body and utter piercing, ringing, and
+prolonged yells. On the other table, round which many people were
+crowding, a tall well-fed man lay on his back with his head thrown back.
+His curly hair, its color, and the shape of his head seemed strangely
+familiar to Prince Andrew. Several dressers were pressing on his chest
+to hold him down. One large, white, plump leg twitched rapidly all the
+time with a feverish tremor. The man was sobbing and choking
+convulsively. Two doctors--one of whom was pale and trembling--were
+silently doing something to this man's other, gory leg. When he had
+finished with the Tartar, whom they covered with an overcoat, the
+spectacled doctor came up to Prince Andrew, wiping his hands.
+
+He glanced at Prince Andrew's face and quickly turned away.
+
+"Undress him! What are you waiting for?" he cried angrily to the
+dressers.
+
+His very first, remotest recollections of childhood came back to Prince
+Andrew's mind when the dresser with sleeves rolled up began hastily to
+undo the buttons of his clothes and undressed him. The doctor bent down
+over the wound, felt it, and sighed deeply. Then he made a sign to
+someone, and the torturing pain in his abdomen caused Prince Andrew to
+lose consciousness. When he came to himself the splintered portions of
+his thighbone had been extracted, the torn flesh cut away, and the wound
+bandaged. Water was being sprinkled on his face. As soon as Prince
+Andrew opened his eyes, the doctor bent over, kissed him silently on the
+lips, and hurried away.
+
+After the sufferings he had been enduring, Prince Andrew enjoyed a
+blissful feeling such as he had not experienced for a long time. All the
+best and happiest moments of his life--especially his earliest
+childhood, when he used to be undressed and put to bed, and when leaning
+over him his nurse sang him to sleep and he, burying his head in the
+pillow, felt happy in the mere consciousness of life--returned to his
+memory, not merely as something past but as something present.
+
+The doctors were busily engaged with the wounded man the shape of whose
+head seemed familiar to Prince Andrew: they were lifting him up and
+trying to quiet him.
+
+"Show it to me.... Oh, ooh... Oh! Oh, ooh!" his frightened moans could
+be heard, subdued by suffering and broken by sobs.
+
+Hearing those moans Prince Andrew wanted to weep. Whether because he was
+dying without glory, or because he was sorry to part with life, or
+because of those memories of a childhood that could not return, or
+because he was suffering and others were suffering and that man near him
+was groaning so piteously--he felt like weeping childlike, kindly, and
+almost happy tears.
+
+The wounded man was shown his amputated leg stained with clotted blood
+and with the boot still on.
+
+"Oh! Oh, ooh!" he sobbed, like a woman.
+
+The doctor who had been standing beside him, preventing Prince Andrew
+from seeing his face, moved away.
+
+"My God! What is this? Why is he here?" said Prince Andrew to himself.
+
+In the miserable, sobbing, enfeebled man whose leg had just been
+amputated, he recognized Anatole Kuragin. Men were supporting him in
+their arms and offering him a glass of water, but his trembling, swollen
+lips could not grasp its rim. Anatole was sobbing painfully. "Yes, it is
+he! Yes, that man is somehow closely and painfully connected with me,"
+thought Prince Andrew, not yet clearly grasping what he saw before him.
+"What is the connection of that man with my childhood and life?" he
+asked himself without finding an answer. And suddenly a new unexpected
+memory from that realm of pure and loving childhood presented itself to
+him. He remembered Natasha as he had seen her for the first time at the
+ball in 1810, with her slender neck and arms and with a frightened happy
+face ready for rapture, and love and tenderness for her, stronger and
+more vivid than ever, awoke in his soul. He now remembered the
+connection that existed between himself and this man who was dimly
+gazing at him through tears that filled his swollen eyes. He remembered
+everything, and ecstatic pity and love for that man overflowed his happy
+heart.
+
+Prince Andrew could no longer restrain himself and wept tender loving
+tears for his fellow men, for himself, and for his own and their errors.
+
+"Compassion, love of our brothers, for those who love us and for those
+who hate us, love of our enemies; yes, that love which God preached on
+earth and which Princess Mary taught me and I did not understand--that
+is what made me sorry to part with life, that is what remained for me
+had I lived. But now it is too late. I know it!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII
+
+The terrible spectacle of the battlefield covered with dead and wounded,
+together with the heaviness of his head and the news that some twenty
+generals he knew personally had been killed or wounded, and the
+consciousness of the impotence of his once mighty arm, produced an
+unexpected impression on Napoleon who usually liked to look at the
+killed and wounded, thereby, he considered, testing his strength of
+mind. This day the horrible appearance of the battlefield overcame that
+strength of mind which he thought constituted his merit and his
+greatness. He rode hurriedly from the battlefield and returned to the
+Shevardino knoll, where he sat on his campstool, his sallow face swollen
+and heavy, his eyes dim, his nose red, and his voice hoarse,
+involuntarily listening, with downcast eyes, to the sounds of firing.
+With painful dejection he awaited the end of this action, in which he
+regarded himself as a participant and which he was unable to arrest. A
+personal, human feeling for a brief moment got the better of the
+artificial phantasm of life he had served so long. He felt in his own
+person the sufferings and death he had witnessed on the battlefield. The
+heaviness of his head and chest reminded him of the possibility of
+suffering and death for himself. At that moment he did not desire
+Moscow, or victory, or glory (what need had he for any more glory?). The
+one thing he wished for was rest, tranquillity, and freedom. But when he
+had been on the Semenovsk heights the artillery commander had proposed
+to him to bring several batteries of artillery up to those heights to
+strengthen the fire on the Russian troops crowded in front of Knyazkovo.
+Napoleon had assented and had given orders that news should be brought
+to him of the effect those batteries produced.
+
+An adjutant came now to inform him that the fire of two hundred guns had
+been concentrated on the Russians, as he had ordered, but that they
+still held their ground.
+
+"Our fire is mowing them down by rows, but still they hold on," said the
+adjutant.
+
+"They want more!..." said Napoleon in a hoarse voice.
+
+"Sire?" asked the adjutant who had not heard the remark.
+
+"They want more!" croaked Napoleon frowning. "Let them have it!"
+
+Even before he gave that order the thing he did not desire, and for
+which he gave the order only because he thought it was expected of him,
+was being done. And he fell back into that artificial realm of imaginary
+greatness, and again--as a horse walking a treadmill thinks it is doing
+something for itself--he submissively fulfilled the cruel, sad, gloomy,
+and inhuman role predestined for him.
+
+And not for that day and hour alone were the mind and conscience
+darkened of this man on whom the responsibility for what was happening
+lay more than on all the others who took part in it. Never to the end of
+his life could he understand goodness, beauty, or truth, or the
+significance of his actions which were too contrary to goodness and
+truth, too remote from everything human, for him ever to be able to
+grasp their meaning. He could not disavow his actions, belauded as they
+were by half the world, and so he had to repudiate truth, goodness, and
+all humanity.
+
+Not only on that day, as he rode over the battlefield strewn with men
+killed and maimed (by his will as he believed), did he reckon as he
+looked at them how many Russians there were for each Frenchman and,
+deceiving himself, find reason for rejoicing in the calculation that
+there were five Russians for every Frenchman. Not on that day alone did
+he write in a letter to Paris that "the battle field was superb,"
+because fifty thousand corpses lay there, but even on the island of St.
+Helena in the peaceful solitude where he said he intended to devote his
+leisure to an account of the great deeds he had done, he wrote:
+
+The Russian war should have been the most popular war of modern times:
+it was a war of good sense, for real interests, for the tranquillity and
+security of all; it was purely pacific and conservative.
+
+It was a war for a great cause, the end of uncertainties and the
+beginning of security. A new horizon and new labors were opening out,
+full of well-being and prosperity for all. The European system was
+already founded; all that remained was to organize it.
+
+Satisfied on these great points and with tranquility everywhere, I too
+should have had my Congress and my Holy Alliance. Those ideas were
+stolen from me. In that reunion of great sovereigns we should have
+discussed our interests like one family, and have rendered account to
+the peoples as clerk to master.
+
+Europe would in this way soon have been, in fact, but one people, and
+anyone who traveled anywhere would have found himself always in the
+common fatherland. I should have demanded the freedom of all navigable
+rivers for everybody, that the seas should be common to all, and that
+the great standing armies should be reduced henceforth to mere guards
+for the sovereigns.
+
+On returning to France, to the bosom of the great, strong, magnificent,
+peaceful, and glorious fatherland, I should have proclaimed her
+frontiers immutable; all future wars purely defensive, all
+aggrandizement antinational. I should have associated my son in the
+Empire; my dictatorship would have been finished, and his constitutional
+reign would have begun.
+
+Paris would have been the capital of the world, and the French the envy
+of the nations!
+
+My leisure then, and my old age, would have been devoted, in company
+with the Empress and during the royal apprenticeship of my son, to
+leisurely visiting, with our own horses and like a true country couple,
+every corner of the Empire, receiving complaints, redressing wrongs, and
+scattering public buildings and benefactions on all sides and
+everywhere.
+
+Napoleon, predestined by Providence for the gloomy role of executioner
+of the peoples, assured himself that the aim of his actions had been the
+peoples' welfare and that he could control the fate of millions and by
+the employment of power confer benefactions.
+
+"Of four hundred thousand who crossed the Vistula," he wrote further of
+the Russian war, "half were Austrians, Prussians, Saxons, Poles,
+Bavarians, Wurttembergers, Mecklenburgers, Spaniards, Italians, and
+Neapolitans. The Imperial army, strictly speaking, was one third
+composed of Dutch, Belgians, men from the borders of the Rhine,
+Piedmontese, Swiss, Genevese, Tuscans, Romans, inhabitants of the
+Thirty-second Military Division, of Bremen, of Hamburg, and so on: it
+included scarcely a hundred and forty thousand who spoke French. The
+Russian expedition actually cost France less than fifty thousand men;
+the Russian army in its retreat from Vilna to Moscow lost in the various
+battles four times more men than the French army; the burning of Moscow
+cost the lives of a hundred thousand Russians who died of cold and want
+in the woods; finally, in its march from Moscow to the Oder the Russian
+army also suffered from the severity of the season; so that by the time
+it reached Vilna it numbered only fifty thousand, and at Kalisch less
+than eighteen thousand."
+
+He imagined that the war with Russia came about by his will, and the
+horrors that occurred did not stagger his soul. He boldly took the whole
+responsibility for what happened, and his darkened mind found
+justification in the belief that among the hundreds of thousands who
+perished there were fewer Frenchmen than Hessians and Bavarians.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX
+
+Several tens of thousands of the slain lay in diverse postures and
+various uniforms on the fields and meadows belonging to the Davydov
+family and to the crown serfs--those fields and meadows where for
+hundreds of years the peasants of Borodino, Gorki, Shevardino, and
+Semenovsk had reaped their harvests and pastured their cattle. At the
+dressing stations the grass and earth were soaked with blood for a space
+of some three acres around. Crowds of men of various arms, wounded and
+unwounded, with frightened faces, dragged themselves back to Mozhaysk
+from the one army and back to Valuevo from the other. Other crowds,
+exhausted and hungry, went forward led by their officers. Others held
+their ground and continued to fire.
+
+Over the whole field, previously so gaily beautiful with the glitter of
+bayonets and cloudlets of smoke in the morning sun, there now spread a
+mist of damp and smoke and a strange acid smell of saltpeter and blood.
+Clouds gathered and drops of rain began to fall on the dead and wounded,
+on the frightened, exhausted, and hesitating men, as if to say: "Enough,
+men! Enough! Cease... bethink yourselves! What are you doing?"
+
+To the men of both sides alike, worn out by want of food and rest, it
+began equally to appear doubtful whether they should continue to
+slaughter one another; all the faces expressed hesitation, and the
+question arose in every soul: "For what, for whom, must I kill and be
+killed?... You may go and kill whom you please, but I don't want to do
+so anymore!" By evening this thought had ripened in every soul. At any
+moment these men might have been seized with horror at what they were
+doing and might have thrown up everything and run away anywhere.
+
+But though toward the end of the battle the men felt all the horror of
+what they were doing, though they would have been glad to leave off,
+some incomprehensible, mysterious power continued to control them, and
+they still brought up the charges, loaded, aimed, and applied the match,
+though only one artilleryman survived out of every three, and though
+they stumbled and panted with fatigue, perspiring and stained with blood
+and powder. The cannon balls flew just as swiftly and cruelly from both
+sides, crushing human bodies, and that terrible work which was not done
+by the will of a man but at the will of Him who governs men and worlds
+continued.
+
+Anyone looking at the disorganized rear of the Russian army would have
+said that, if only the French made one more slight effort, it would
+disappear; and anyone looking at the rear of the French army would have
+said that the Russians need only make one more slight effort and the
+French would be destroyed. But neither the French nor the Russians made
+that effort, and the flame of battle burned slowly out.
+
+The Russians did not make that effort because they were not attacking
+the French. At the beginning of the battle they stood blocking the way
+to Moscow and they still did so at the end of the battle as at the
+beginning. But even had the aim of the Russians been to drive the French
+from their positions, they could not have made this last effort, for all
+the Russian troops had been broken up, there was no part of the Russian
+army that had not suffered in the battle, and though still holding their
+positions they had lost ONE HALF of their army.
+
+The French, with the memory of all their former victories during fifteen
+years, with the assurance of Napoleon's invincibility, with the
+consciousness that they had captured part of the battlefield and had
+lost only a quarter of their men and still had their Guards intact,
+twenty thousand strong, might easily have made that effort. The French
+who had attacked the Russian army in order to drive it from its position
+ought to have made that effort, for as long as the Russians continued to
+block the road to Moscow as before, the aim of the French had not been
+attained and all their efforts and losses were in vain. But the French
+did not make that effort. Some historians say that Napoleon need only
+have used his Old Guards, who were intact, and the battle would have
+been won. To speak of what would have happened had Napoleon sent his
+Guards is like talking of what would happen if autumn became spring. It
+could not be. Napoleon did not give his Guards, not because he did not
+want to, but because it could not be done. All the generals, officers,
+and soldiers of the French army knew it could not be done, because the
+flagging spirit of the troops would not permit it.
+
+It was not Napoleon alone who had experienced that nightmare feeling of
+the mighty arm being stricken powerless, but all the generals and
+soldiers of his army whether they had taken part in the battle or not,
+after all their experience of previous battles--when after one tenth of
+such efforts the enemy had fled--experienced a similar feeling of terror
+before an enemy who, after losing HALF his men, stood as threateningly
+at the end as at the beginning of the battle. The moral force of the
+attacking French army was exhausted. Not that sort of victory which is
+defined by the capture of pieces of material fastened to sticks, called
+standards, and of the ground on which the troops had stood and were
+standing, but a moral victory that convinces the enemy of the moral
+superiority of his opponent and of his own impotence was gained by the
+Russians at Borodino. The French invaders, like an infuriated animal
+that has in its onslaught received a mortal wound, felt that they were
+perishing, but could not stop, any more than the Russian army, weaker by
+one half, could help swerving. By impetus gained, the French army was
+still able to roll forward to Moscow, but there, without further effort
+on the part of the Russians, it had to perish, bleeding from the mortal
+wound it had received at Borodino. The direct consequence of the battle
+of Borodino was Napoleon's senseless flight from Moscow, his retreat
+along the old Smolensk road, the destruction of the invading army of
+five hundred thousand men, and the downfall of Napoleonic France, on
+which at Borodino for the first time the hand of an opponent of stronger
+spirit had been laid.
+
+BOOK ELEVEN: 1812
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+Absolute continuity of motion is not comprehensible to the human mind.
+Laws of motion of any kind become comprehensible to man only when he
+examines arbitrarily selected elements of that motion; but at the same
+time, a large proportion of human error comes from the arbitrary
+division of continuous motion into discontinuous elements. There is a
+well known, so-called sophism of the ancients consisting in this, that
+Achilles could never catch up with a tortoise he was following, in spite
+of the fact that he traveled ten times as fast as the tortoise. By the
+time Achilles has covered the distance that separated him from the
+tortoise, the tortoise has covered one tenth of that distance ahead of
+him: when Achilles has covered that tenth, the tortoise has covered
+another one hundredth, and so on forever. This problem seemed to the
+ancients insoluble. The absurd answer (that Achilles could never
+overtake the tortoise) resulted from this: that motion was arbitrarily
+divided into discontinuous elements, whereas the motion both of Achilles
+and of the tortoise was continuous.
+
+By adopting smaller and smaller elements of motion we only approach a
+solution of the problem, but never reach it. Only when we have admitted
+the conception of the infinitely small, and the resulting geometrical
+progression with a common ratio of one tenth, and have found the sum of
+this progression to infinity, do we reach a solution of the problem.
+
+A modern branch of mathematics having achieved the art of dealing with
+the infinitely small can now yield solutions in other more complex
+problems of motion which used to appear insoluble.
+
+This modern branch of mathematics, unknown to the ancients, when dealing
+with problems of motion admits the conception of the infinitely small,
+and so conforms to the chief condition of motion (absolute continuity)
+and thereby corrects the inevitable error which the human mind cannot
+avoid when it deals with separate elements of motion instead of
+examining continuous motion.
+
+In seeking the laws of historical movement just the same thing happens.
+The movement of humanity, arising as it does from innumerable arbitrary
+human wills, is continuous.
+
+To understand the laws of this continuous movement is the aim of
+history. But to arrive at these laws, resulting from the sum of all
+those human wills, man's mind postulates arbitrary and disconnected
+units. The first method of history is to take an arbitrarily selected
+series of continuous events and examine it apart from others, though
+there is and can be no beginning to any event, for one event always
+flows uninterruptedly from another.
+
+The second method is to consider the actions of some one man--a king or
+a commander--as equivalent to the sum of many individual wills; whereas
+the sum of individual wills is never expressed by the activity of a
+single historic personage.
+
+Historical science in its endeavor to draw nearer to truth continually
+takes smaller and smaller units for examination. But however small the
+units it takes, we feel that to take any unit disconnected from others,
+or to assume a beginning of any phenomenon, or to say that the will of
+many men is expressed by the actions of any one historic personage, is
+in itself false.
+
+It needs no critical exertion to reduce utterly to dust any deductions
+drawn from history. It is merely necessary to select some larger or
+smaller unit as the subject of observation--as criticism has every right
+to do, seeing that whatever unit history observes must always be
+arbitrarily selected.
+
+Only by taking infinitesimally small units for observation (the
+differential of history, that is, the individual tendencies of men) and
+attaining to the art of integrating them (that is, finding the sum of
+these infinitesimals) can we hope to arrive at the laws of history.
+
+The first fifteen years of the nineteenth century in Europe present an
+extraordinary movement of millions of people. Men leave their customary
+pursuits, hasten from one side of Europe to the other, plunder and
+slaughter one another, triumph and are plunged in despair, and for some
+years the whole course of life is altered and presents an intensive
+movement which first increases and then slackens. What was the cause of
+this movement, by what laws was it governed? asks the mind of man.
+
+The historians, replying to this question, lay before us the sayings and
+doings of a few dozen men in a building in the city of Paris, calling
+these sayings and doings "the Revolution"; then they give a detailed
+biography of Napoleon and of certain people favorable or hostile to him;
+tell of the influence some of these people had on others, and say: that
+is why this movement took place and those are its laws.
+
+But the mind of man not only refuses to believe this explanation, but
+plainly says that this method of explanation is fallacious, because in
+it a weaker phenomenon is taken as the cause of a stronger. The sum of
+human wills produced the Revolution and Napoleon, and only the sum of
+those wills first tolerated and then destroyed them.
+
+"But every time there have been conquests there have been conquerors;
+every time there has been a revolution in any state there have been
+great men," says history. And, indeed, human reason replies: every time
+conquerors appear there have been wars, but this does not prove that the
+conquerors caused the wars and that it is possible to find the laws of a
+war in the personal activity of a single man. Whenever I look at my
+watch and its hands point to ten, I hear the bells of the neighboring
+church; but because the bells begin to ring when the hands of the clock
+reach ten, I have no right to assume that the movement of the bells is
+caused by the position of the hands of the watch.
+
+Whenever I see the movement of a locomotive I hear the whistle and see
+the valves opening and wheels turning; but I have no right to conclude
+that the whistling and the turning of wheels are the cause of the
+movement of the engine.
+
+The peasants say that a cold wind blows in late spring because the oaks
+are budding, and really every spring cold winds do blow when the oak is
+budding. But though I do not know what causes the cold winds to blow
+when the oak buds unfold, I cannot agree with the peasants that the
+unfolding of the oak buds is the cause of the cold wind, for the force
+of the wind is beyond the influence of the buds. I see only a
+coincidence of occurrences such as happens with all the phenomena of
+life, and I see that however much and however carefully I observe the
+hands of the watch, and the valves and wheels of the engine, and the
+oak, I shall not discover the cause of the bells ringing, the engine
+moving, or of the winds of spring. To that I must entirely change my
+point of view and study the laws of the movement of steam, of the bells,
+and of the wind. History must do the same. And attempts in this
+direction have already been made.
+
+To study the laws of history we must completely change the subject of
+our observation, must leave aside kings, ministers, and generals, and
+study the common, infinitesimally small elements by which the masses are
+moved. No one can say in how far it is possible for man to advance in
+this way toward an understanding of the laws of history; but it is
+evident that only along that path does the possibility of discovering
+the laws of history lie, and that as yet not a millionth part as much
+mental effort has been applied in this direction by historians as has
+been devoted to describing the actions of various kings, commanders, and
+ministers and propounding the historians' own reflections concerning
+these actions.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+The forces of a dozen European nations burst into Russia. The Russian
+army and people avoided a collision till Smolensk was reached, and again
+from Smolensk to Borodino. The French army pushed on to Moscow, its
+goal, its impetus ever increasing as it neared its aim, just as the
+velocity of a falling body increases as it approaches the earth. Behind
+it were seven hundred miles of hunger-stricken, hostile country; ahead
+were a few dozen miles separating it from its goal. Every soldier in
+Napoleon's army felt this and the invasion moved on by its own momentum.
+
+The more the Russian army retreated the more fiercely a spirit of hatred
+of the enemy flared up, and while it retreated the army increased and
+consolidated. At Borodino a collision took place. Neither army was
+broken up, but the Russian army retreated immediately after the
+collision as inevitably as a ball recoils after colliding with another
+having a greater momentum, and with equal inevitability the ball of
+invasion that had advanced with such momentum rolled on for some
+distance, though the collision had deprived it of all its force.
+
+The Russians retreated eighty miles--to beyond Moscow--and the French
+reached Moscow and there came to a standstill. For five weeks after that
+there was not a single battle. The French did not move. As a bleeding,
+mortally wounded animal licks its wounds, they remained inert in Moscow
+for five weeks, and then suddenly, with no fresh reason, fled back: they
+made a dash for the Kaluga road, and (after a victory--for at Malo-
+Yaroslavets the field of conflict again remained theirs) without
+undertaking a single serious battle, they fled still more rapidly back
+to Smolensk, beyond Smolensk, beyond the Berezina, beyond Vilna, and
+farther still.
+
+On the evening of the twenty-sixth of August, Kutuzov and the whole
+Russian army were convinced that the battle of Borodino was a victory.
+Kutuzov reported so to the Emperor. He gave orders to prepare for a
+fresh conflict to finish the enemy and did this not to deceive anyone,
+but because he knew that the enemy was beaten, as everyone who had taken
+part in the battle knew it.
+
+But all that evening and next day reports came in one after another of
+unheard-of losses, of the loss of half the army, and a fresh battle
+proved physically impossible.
+
+It was impossible to give battle before information had been collected,
+the wounded gathered in, the supplies of ammunition replenished, the
+slain reckoned up, new officers appointed to replace those who had been
+killed, and before the men had had food and sleep. And meanwhile, the
+very next morning after the battle, the French army advanced of itself
+upon the Russians, carried forward by the force of its own momentum now
+seemingly increased in inverse proportion to the square of the distance
+from its aim. Kutuzov's wish was to attack next day, and the whole army
+desired to do so. But to make an attack the wish to do so is not
+sufficient, there must also be a possibility of doing it, and that
+possibility did not exist. It was impossible not to retreat a day's
+march, and then in the same way it was impossible not to retreat another
+and a third day's march, and at last, on the first of September when the
+army drew near Moscow--despite the strength of the feeling that had
+arisen in all ranks--the force of circumstances compelled it to retire
+beyond Moscow. And the troops retired one more, last, day's march, and
+abandoned Moscow to the enemy.
+
+For people accustomed to think that plans of campaign and battles are
+made by generals--as any one of us sitting over a map in his study may
+imagine how he would have arranged things in this or that battle--the
+questions present themselves: Why did Kutuzov during the retreat not do
+this or that? Why did he not take up a position before reaching Fili?
+Why did he not retire at once by the Kaluga road, abandoning Moscow? and
+so on. People accustomed to think in that way forget, or do not know,
+the inevitable conditions which always limit the activities of any
+commander in chief. The activity of a commander-in-chief does not at all
+resemble the activity we imagine to ourselves when we sit at ease in our
+studies examining some campaign on the map, with a certain number of
+troops on this and that side in a certain known locality, and begin our
+plans from some given moment. A commander-in-chief is never dealing with
+the beginning of any event--the position from which we always
+contemplate it. The commander-in-chief is always in the midst of a
+series of shifting events and so he never can at any moment consider the
+whole import of an event that is occurring. Moment by moment the event
+is imperceptibly shaping itself, and at every moment of this continuous,
+uninterrupted shaping of events the commander-in-chief is in the midst
+of a most complex play of intrigues, worries, contingencies,
+authorities, projects, counsels, threats, and deceptions and is
+continually obliged to reply to innumerable questions addressed to him,
+which constantly conflict with one another.
+
+Learned military authorities quite seriously tell us that Kutuzov should
+have moved his army to the Kaluga road long before reaching Fili, and
+that somebody actually submitted such a proposal to him. But a commander
+in chief, especially at a difficult moment, has always before him not
+one proposal but dozens simultaneously. And all these proposals, based
+on strategics and tactics, contradict each other.
+
+A commander-in-chief's business, it would seem, is simply to choose one
+of these projects. But even that he cannot do. Events and time do not
+wait. For instance, on the twenty-eighth it is suggested to him to cross
+to the Kaluga road, but just then an adjutant gallops up from
+Miloradovich asking whether he is to engage the French or retire. An
+order must be given him at once, that instant. And the order to retreat
+carries us past the turn to the Kaluga road. And after the adjutant
+comes the commissary general asking where the stores are to be taken,
+and the chief of the hospitals asks where the wounded are to go, and a
+courier from Petersburg brings a letter from the sovereign which does
+not admit of the possibility of abandoning Moscow, and the commander-in-
+chief's rival, the man who is undermining him (and there are always not
+merely one but several such), presents a new project diametrically
+opposed to that of turning to the Kaluga road, and the commander-in-
+chief himself needs sleep and refreshment to maintain his energy and a
+respectable general who has been overlooked in the distribution of
+rewards comes to complain, and the inhabitants of the district pray to
+be defended, and an officer sent to inspect the locality comes in and
+gives a report quite contrary to what was said by the officer previously
+sent; and a spy, a prisoner, and a general who has been on
+reconnaissance, all describe the position of the enemy's army
+differently. People accustomed to misunderstand or to forget these
+inevitable conditions of a commander-in-chief's actions describe to us,
+for instance, the position of the army at Fili and assume that the
+commander-in-chief could, on the first of September, quite freely decide
+whether to abandon Moscow or defend it; whereas, with the Russian army
+less than four miles from Moscow, no such question existed. When had
+that question been settled? At Drissa and at Smolensk and most palpably
+of all on the twenty-fourth of August at Shevardino and on the twenty-
+sixth at Borodino, and each day and hour and minute of the retreat from
+Borodino to Fili.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+When Ermolov, having been sent by Kutuzov to inspect the position, told
+the field marshal that it was impossible to fight there before Moscow
+and that they must retreat, Kutuzov looked at him in silence.
+
+"Give me your hand," said he and, turning it over so as to feel the
+pulse, added: "You are not well, my dear fellow. Think what you are
+saying!"
+
+Kutuzov could not yet admit the possibility of retreating beyond Moscow
+without a battle.
+
+On the Poklonny Hill, four miles from the Dorogomilov gate of Moscow,
+Kutuzov got out of his carriage and sat down on a bench by the roadside.
+A great crowd of generals gathered round him, and Count Rostopchin, who
+had come out from Moscow, joined them. This brilliant company separated
+into several groups who all discussed the advantages and disadvantages
+of the position, the state of the army, the plans suggested, the
+situation of Moscow, and military questions generally. Though they had
+not been summoned for the purpose, and though it was not so called, they
+all felt that this was really a council of war. The conversations all
+dealt with public questions. If anyone gave or asked for personal news,
+it was done in a whisper and they immediately reverted to general
+matters. No jokes, or laughter, or smiles even, were seen among all
+these men. They evidently all made an effort to hold themselves at the
+height the situation demanded. And all these groups, while talking among
+themselves, tried to keep near the commander-in-chief (whose bench
+formed the center of the gathering) and to speak so that he might
+overhear them. The commander in chief listened to what was being said
+and sometimes asked them to repeat their remarks, but did not himself
+take part in the conversations or express any opinion. After hearing
+what was being said by one or other of these groups he generally turned
+away with an air of disappointment, as though they were not speaking of
+anything he wished to hear. Some discussed the position that had been
+chosen, criticizing not the position itself so much as the mental
+capacity of those who had chosen it. Others argued that a mistake had
+been made earlier and that a battle should have been fought two days
+before. Others again spoke of the battle of Salamanca, which was
+described by Crosart, a newly arrived Frenchman in a Spanish uniform.
+(This Frenchman and one of the German princes serving with the Russian
+army were discussing the siege of Saragossa and considering the
+possibility of defending Moscow in a similar manner.) Count Rostopchin
+was telling a fourth group that he was prepared to die with the city
+train bands under the walls of the capital, but that he still could not
+help regretting having been left in ignorance of what was happening, and
+that had he known it sooner things would have been different.... A fifth
+group, displaying the profundity of their strategic perceptions,
+discussed the direction the troops would now have to take. A sixth group
+was talking absolute nonsense. Kutuzov's expression grew more and more
+preoccupied and gloomy. From all this talk he saw only one thing: that
+to defend Moscow was a physical impossibility in the full meaning of
+those words, that is to say, so utterly impossible that if any senseless
+commander were to give orders to fight, confusion would result but the
+battle would still not take place. It would not take place because the
+commanders not merely all recognized the position to be impossible, but
+in their conversations were only discussing what would happen after its
+inevitable abandonment. How could the commanders lead their troops to a
+field of battle they considered impossible to hold? The lower-grade
+officers and even the soldiers (who too reason) also considered the
+position impossible and therefore could not go to fight, fully convinced
+as they were of defeat. If Bennigsen insisted on the position being
+defended and others still discussed it, the question was no longer
+important in itself but only as a pretext for disputes and intrigue.
+This Kutuzov knew well.
+
+Bennigsen, who had chosen the position, warmly displayed his Russian
+patriotism (Kutuzov could not listen to this without wincing) by
+insisting that Moscow must be defended. His aim was as clear as daylight
+to Kutuzov: if the defense failed, to throw the blame on Kutuzov who had
+brought the army as far as the Sparrow Hills without giving battle; if
+it succeeded, to claim the success as his own; or if battle were not
+given, to clear himself of the crime of abandoning Moscow. But this
+intrigue did not now occupy the old man's mind. One terrible question
+absorbed him and to that question he heard no reply from anyone. The
+question for him now was: "Have I really allowed Napoleon to reach
+Moscow, and when did I do so? When was it decided? Can it have been
+yesterday when I ordered Platov to retreat, or was it the evening
+before, when I had a nap and told Bennigsen to issue orders? Or was it
+earlier still?... When, when was this terrible affair decided? Moscow
+must be abandoned. The army must retreat and the order to do so must be
+given." To give that terrible order seemed to him equivalent to
+resigning the command of the army. And not only did he love power to
+which he was accustomed (the honours awarded to Prince Prozorovski,
+under whom he had served in Turkey, galled him), but he was convinced
+that he was destined to save Russia and that that was why, against the
+Emperor's wish and by the will of the people, he had been chosen
+commander-in-chief. He was convinced that he alone could maintain
+command of the army in these difficult circumstances, and that in all
+the world he alone could encounter the invincible Napoleon without fear,
+and he was horrified at the thought of the order he had to issue. But
+something had to be decided, and these conversations around him which
+were assuming too free a character must be stopped.
+
+He called the most important generals to him.
+
+"My head, be it good or bad, must depend on itself," said he, rising
+from the bench, and he rode to Fili where his carriages were waiting.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+The Council of War began to assemble at two in the afternoon in the
+better and roomier part of Andrew Savostyanov's hut. The men, women, and
+children of the large peasant family crowded into the back room across
+the passage. Only Malasha, Andrew's six-year-old granddaughter whom his
+Serene Highness had petted and to whom he had given a lump of sugar
+while drinking his tea, remained on the top of the brick oven in the
+larger room. Malasha looked down from the oven with shy delight at the
+faces, uniforms, and decorations of the generals, who one after another
+came into the room and sat down on the broad benches in the corner under
+the icons. "Granddad" himself, as Malasha in her own mind called
+Kutuzov, sat apart in a dark corner behind the oven. He sat, sunk deep
+in a folding armchair, and continually cleared his throat and pulled at
+the collar of his coat which, though it was unbuttoned, still seemed to
+pinch his neck. Those who entered went up one by one to the field
+marshal; he pressed the hands of some and nodded to others. His adjutant
+Kaysarov was about to draw back the curtain of the window facing
+Kutuzov, but the latter moved his hand angrily and Kaysarov understood
+that his Serene Highness did not wish his face to be seen.
+
+Round the peasant's deal table, on which lay maps, plans, pencils, and
+papers, so many people gathered that the orderlies brought in another
+bench and put it beside the table. Ermolov, Kaysarov, and Toll, who had
+just arrived, sat down on this bench. In the foremost place, immediately
+under the icons, sat Barclay de Tolly, his high forehead merging into
+his bald crown. He had a St. George's Cross round his neck and looked
+pale and ill. He had been feverish for two days and was now shivering
+and in pain. Beside him sat Uvarov, who with rapid gesticulations was
+giving him some information, speaking in low tones as they all did.
+Chubby little Dokhturov was listening attentively with eyebrows raised
+and arms folded on his stomach. On the other side sat Count Ostermann-
+Tolstoy, seemingly absorbed in his own thoughts. His broad head with its
+bold features and glittering eyes was resting on his hand. Raevski,
+twitching forward the black hair on his temples as was his habit,
+glanced now at Kutuzov and now at the door with a look of impatience.
+Konovnitsyn's firm, handsome, and kindly face was lit up by a tender,
+sly smile. His glance met Malasha's, and the expression of his eyes
+caused the little girl to smile.
+
+They were all waiting for Bennigsen, who on the pretext of inspecting
+the position was finishing his savory dinner. They waited for him from
+four till six o'clock and did not begin their deliberations all that
+time but talked in low tones of other matters.
+
+Only when Bennigsen had entered the hut did Kutuzov leave his corner and
+draw toward the table, but not near enough for the candles that had been
+placed there to light up his face.
+
+Bennigsen opened the council with the question: "Are we to abandon
+Russia's ancient and sacred capital without a struggle, or are we to
+defend it?" A prolonged and general silence followed. There was a frown
+on every face and only Kutuzov's angry grunts and occasional cough broke
+the silence. All eyes were gazing at him. Malasha too looked at
+"Granddad." She was nearest to him and saw how his face puckered; he
+seemed about to cry, but this did not last long.
+
+"Russia's ancient and sacred capital!" he suddenly said, repeating
+Bennigsen's words in an angry voice and thereby drawing attention to the
+false note in them. "Allow me to tell you, your excellency, that that
+question has no meaning for a Russian." (He lurched his heavy body
+forward.) "Such a question cannot be put; it is senseless! The question
+I have asked these gentlemen to meet to discuss is a military one. The
+question is that of saving Russia. Is it better to give up Moscow
+without a battle, or by accepting battle to risk losing the army as well
+as Moscow? That is the question on which I want your opinion," and he
+sank back in his chair.
+
+The discussion began. Bennigsen did not yet consider his game lost.
+Admitting the view of Barclay and others that a defensive battle at Fili
+was impossible, but imbued with Russian patriotism and the love of
+Moscow, he proposed to move troops from the right to the left flank
+during the night and attack the French right flank the following day.
+Opinions were divided, and arguments were advanced for and against that
+project. Ermolov, Dokhturov, and Raevski agreed with Bennigsen. Whether
+feeling it necessary to make a sacrifice before abandoning the capital
+or guided by other, personal considerations, these generals seemed not
+to understand that this council could not alter the inevitable course of
+events and that Moscow was in effect already abandoned. The other
+generals, however, understood it and, leaving aside the question of
+Moscow, spoke of the direction the army should take in its retreat.
+Malasha, who kept her eyes fixed on what was going on before her,
+understood the meaning of the council differently. It seemed to her that
+it was only a personal struggle between "Granddad" and "Long-coat" as
+she termed Bennigsen. She saw that they grew spiteful when they spoke to
+one another, and in her heart she sided with "Granddad." In the midst of
+the conversation she noticed "Granddad" give Bennigsen a quick, subtle
+glance, and then to her joys she saw that "Granddad" said something to
+"Long-coat" which settled him. Bennigsen suddenly reddened and paced
+angrily up and down the room. What so affected him was Kutuzov's calm
+and quiet comment on the advantage or disadvantage of Bennigsen's
+proposal to move troops by night from the right to the left flank to
+attack the French right wing.
+
+"Gentlemen," said Kutuzov, "I cannot approve of the count's plan. Moving
+troops in close proximity to an enemy is always dangerous, and military
+history supports that view. For instance..." Kutuzov seemed to reflect,
+searching for an example, then with a clear, naive look at Bennigsen he
+added: "Oh yes; take the battle of Friedland, which I think the count
+well remembers, and which was... not fully successful, only because our
+troops were rearranged too near the enemy..."
+
+There followed a momentary pause, which seemed very long to them all.
+
+The discussion recommenced, but pauses frequently occurred and they all
+felt that there was no more to be said.
+
+During one of these pauses Kutuzov heaved a deep sigh as if preparing to
+speak. They all looked at him.
+
+"Well, gentlemen, I see that it is I who will have to pay for the broken
+crockery," said he, and rising slowly he moved to the table. "Gentlemen,
+I have heard your views. Some of you will not agree with me. But I," he
+paused, "by the authority entrusted to me by my Sovereign and country,
+order a retreat."
+
+After that the generals began to disperse with the solemnity and
+circumspect silence of people who are leaving, after a funeral.
+
+Some of the generals, in low tones and in a strain very different from
+the way they had spoken during the council, communicated something to
+their commander-in-chief.
+
+Malasha, who had long been expected for supper, climbed carefully
+backwards down from the oven, her bare little feet catching at its
+projections, and slipping between the legs of the generals she darted
+out of the room.
+
+When he had dismissed the generals Kutuzov sat a long time with his
+elbows on the table, thinking always of the same terrible question:
+"When, when did the abandonment of Moscow become inevitable? When was
+that done which settled the matter? And who was to blame for it?"
+
+"I did not expect this," said he to his adjutant Schneider when the
+latter came in late that night. "I did not expect this! I did not think
+this would happen."
+
+"You should take some rest, your Serene Highness," replied Schneider.
+
+"But no! They shall eat horseflesh yet, like the Turks!" exclaimed
+Kutuzov without replying, striking the table with his podgy fist. "They
+shall too, if only..."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+At that very time, in circumstances even more important than retreating
+without a battle, namely the evacuation and burning of Moscow,
+Rostopchin, who is usually represented as being the instigator of that
+event, acted in an altogether different manner from Kutuzov.
+
+After the battle of Borodino the abandonment and burning of Moscow was
+as inevitable as the retreat of the army beyond Moscow without fighting.
+
+Every Russian might have predicted it, not by reasoning but by the
+feeling implanted in each of us and in our fathers.
+
+The same thing that took place in Moscow had happened in all the towns
+and villages on Russian soil beginning with Smolensk, without the
+participation of Count Rostopchin and his broadsheets. The people
+awaited the enemy unconcernedly, did not riot or become excited or tear
+anyone to pieces, but faced its fate, feeling within it the strength to
+find what it should do at that most difficult moment. And as soon as the
+enemy drew near the wealthy classes went away abandoning their property,
+while the poorer remained and burned and destroyed what was left.
+
+The consciousness that this would be so and would always be so was and
+is present in the heart of every Russian. And a consciousness of this,
+and a foreboding that Moscow would be taken, was present in Russian
+Moscow society in 1812. Those who had quitted Moscow already in July and
+at the beginning of August showed that they expected this. Those who
+went away, taking what they could and abandoning their houses and half
+their belongings, did so from the latent patriotism which expresses
+itself not by phrases or by giving one's children to save the fatherland
+and similar unnatural exploits, but unobtrusively, simply, organically,
+and therefore in the way that always produces the most powerful results.
+
+"It is disgraceful to run away from danger; only cowards are running
+away from Moscow," they were told. In his broadsheets Rostopchin
+impressed on them that to leave Moscow was shameful. They were ashamed
+to be called cowards, ashamed to leave, but still they left, knowing it
+had to be done. Why did they go? It is impossible to suppose that
+Rostopchin had scared them by his accounts of horrors Napoleon had
+committed in conquered countries. The first people to go away were the
+rich educated people who knew quite well that Vienna and Berlin had
+remained intact and that during Napoleon's occupation the inhabitants
+had spent their time pleasantly in the company of the charming Frenchmen
+whom the Russians, and especially the Russian ladies, then liked so
+much.
+
+They went away because for Russians there could be no question as to
+whether things would go well or ill under French rule in Moscow. It was
+out of the question to be under French rule, it would be the worst thing
+that could happen. They went away even before the battle of Borodino and
+still more rapidly after it, despite Rostopchin's calls to defend Moscow
+or the announcement of his intention to take the wonder-working icon of
+the Iberian Mother of God and go to fight, or of the balloons that were
+to destroy the French, and despite all the nonsense Rostopchin wrote in
+his broadsheets. They knew that it was for the army to fight, and that
+if it could not succeed it would not do to take young ladies and house
+serfs to the Three Hills quarter of Moscow to fight Napoleon, and that
+they must go away, sorry as they were to abandon their property to
+destruction. They went away without thinking of the tremendous
+significance of that immense and wealthy city being given over to
+destruction, for a great city with wooden buildings was certain when
+abandoned by its inhabitants to be burned. They went away each on his
+own account, and yet it was only in consequence of their going away that
+the momentous event was accomplished that will always remain the
+greatest glory of the Russian people. The lady who, afraid of being
+stopped by Count Rostopchin's orders, had already in June moved with her
+Negroes and her women jesters from Moscow to her Saratov estate, with a
+vague consciousness that she was not Bonaparte's servant, was really,
+simply, and truly carrying out the great work which saved Russia. But
+Count Rostopchin, who now taunted those who left Moscow and now had the
+government offices removed; now distributed quite useless weapons to the
+drunken rabble; now had processions displaying the icons, and now
+forbade Father Augustin to remove icons or the relics of saints; now
+seized all the private carts in Moscow and on one hundred and thirty-six
+of them removed the balloon that was being constructed by Leppich; now
+hinted that he would burn Moscow and related how he had set fire to his
+own house; now wrote a proclamation to the French solemnly upbraiding
+them for having destroyed his Orphanage; now claimed the glory of having
+hinted that he would burn Moscow and now repudiated the deed; now
+ordered the people to catch all spies and bring them to him, and now
+reproached them for doing so; now expelled all the French residents from
+Moscow, and now allowed Madame Aubert-Chalme (the center of the whole
+French colony in Moscow) to remain, but ordered the venerable old
+postmaster Klyucharev to be arrested and exiled for no particular
+offense; now assembled the people at the Three Hills to fight the French
+and now, to get rid of them, handed over to them a man to be killed and
+himself drove away by a back gate; now declared that he would not
+survive the fall of Moscow, and now wrote French verses in albums
+concerning his share in the affair--this man did not understand the
+meaning of what was happening but merely wanted to do something himself
+that would astonish people, to perform some patriotically heroic feat;
+and like a child he made sport of the momentous, and unavoidable event--
+the abandonment and burning of Moscow--and tried with his puny hand now
+to speed and now to stay the enormous, popular tide that bore him along
+with it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+Helene, having returned with the court from Vilna to Petersburg, found
+herself in a difficult position.
+
+In Petersburg she had enjoyed the special protection of a grandee who
+occupied one of the highest posts in the Empire. In Vilna she had formed
+an intimacy with a young foreign prince. When she returned to Petersburg
+both the magnate and the prince were there, and both claimed their
+rights. Helene was faced by a new problem--how to preserve her intimacy
+with both without offending either.
+
+What would have seemed difficult or even impossible to another woman did
+not cause the least embarrassment to Countess Bezukhova, who evidently
+deserved her reputation of being a very clever woman. Had she attempted
+concealment, or tried to extricate herself from her awkward position by
+cunning, she would have spoiled her case by acknowledging herself
+guilty. But Helene, like a really great man who can do whatever he
+pleases, at once assumed her own position to be correct, as she
+sincerely believed it to be, and that everyone else was to blame.
+
+The first time the young foreigner allowed himself to reproach her, she
+lifted her beautiful head and, half turning to him, said firmly: "That's
+just like a man--selfish and cruel! I expected nothing else. A woman
+sacrifices herself for you, she suffers, and this is her reward! What
+right have you, monseigneur, to demand an account of my attachments and
+friendships? He is a man who has been more than a father to me!" The
+prince was about to say something, but Helene interrupted him.
+
+"Well, yes," said she, "it may be that he has other sentiments for me
+than those of a father, but that is not a reason for me to shut my door
+on him. I am not a man, that I should repay kindness with ingratitude!
+Know, monseigneur, that in all that relates to my intimate feelings I
+render account only to God and to my conscience," she concluded, laying
+her hand on her beautiful, fully expanded bosom and looking up to
+heaven.
+
+"But for heaven's sake listen to me!"
+
+"Marry me, and I will be your slave!"
+
+"But that's impossible."
+
+"You won't deign to demean yourself by marrying me, you..." said Helene,
+beginning to cry.
+
+The prince tried to comfort her, but Helene, as if quite distraught,
+said through her tears that there was nothing to prevent her marrying,
+that there were precedents (there were up to that time very few, but she
+mentioned Napoleon and some other exalted personages), that she had
+never been her husband's wife, and that she had been sacrificed.
+
+"But the law, religion..." said the prince, already yielding.
+
+"The law, religion... What have they been invented for if they can't
+arrange that?" said Helene.
+
+The prince was surprised that so simple an idea had not occurred to him,
+and he applied for advice to the holy brethren of the Society of Jesus,
+with whom he was on intimate terms.
+
+A few days later at one of those enchanting fetes which Helene gave at
+her country house on the Stone Island, the charming Monsieur de Jobert,
+a man no longer young, with snow white hair and brilliant black eyes, a
+Jesuit a robe courte * was presented to her, and in the garden by the
+light of the illuminations and to the sound of music talked to her for a
+long time of the love of God, of Christ, of the Sacred Heart, and of the
+consolations the one true Catholic religion affords in this world and
+the next. Helene was touched, and more than once tears rose to her eyes
+and to those of Monsieur de Jobert and their voices trembled. A dance,
+for which her partner came to seek her, put an end to her discourse with
+her future directeur de conscience, but the next evening Monsieur de
+Jobert came to see Helene when she was alone, and after that often came
+again.
+
+
+* Lay member of the Society of Jesus.
+
+One day he took the countess to a Roman Catholic church, where she knelt
+down before the altar to which she was led. The enchanting, middle-aged
+Frenchman laid his hands on her head and, as she herself afterward
+described it, she felt something like a fresh breeze wafted into her
+soul. It was explained to her that this was la grace.
+
+After that a long-frocked abbe was brought to her. She confessed to him,
+and he absolved her from her sins. Next day she received a box
+containing the Sacred Host, which was left at her house for her to
+partake of. A few days later Helene learned with pleasure that she had
+now been admitted to the true Catholic Church and that in a few days the
+Pope himself would hear of her and would send her a certain document.
+
+All that was done around her and to her at this time, all the attention
+devoted to her by so many clever men and expressed in such pleasant,
+refined ways, and the state of dove-like purity she was now in (she wore
+only white dresses and white ribbons all that time) gave her pleasure,
+but her pleasure did not cause her for a moment to forget her aim. And
+as it always happens in contests of cunning that a stupid person gets
+the better of cleverer ones, Helene--having realized that the main
+object of all these words and all this trouble was, after converting her
+to Catholicism, to obtain money from her for Jesuit institutions (as to
+which she received indications)-before parting with her money insisted
+that the various operations necessary to free her from her husband
+should be performed. In her view the aim of every religion was merely to
+preserve certain proprieties while affording satisfaction to human
+desires. And with this aim, in one of her talks with her Father
+Confessor, she insisted on an answer to the question, in how far was she
+bound by her marriage?
+
+They were sitting in the twilight by a window in the drawing room. The
+scent of flowers came in at the window. Helene was wearing a white
+dress, transparent over her shoulders and bosom. The abbe, a well-fed
+man with a plump, clean-shaven chin, a pleasant firm mouth, and white
+hands meekly folded on his knees, sat close to Helene and, with a subtle
+smile on his lips and a peaceful look of delight at her beauty,
+occasionally glanced at her face as he explained his opinion on the
+subject. Helene with an uneasy smile looked at his curly hair and his
+plump, clean-shaven, blackish cheeks and every moment expected the
+conversation to take a fresh turn. But the abbe, though he evidently
+enjoyed the beauty of his companion, was absorbed in his mastery of the
+matter.
+
+The course of the Father Confessor's arguments ran as follows: "Ignorant
+of the import of what you were undertaking, you made a vow of conjugal
+fidelity to a man who on his part, by entering the married state without
+faith in the religious significance of marriage, committed an act of
+sacrilege. That marriage lacked the dual significance it should have
+had. Yet in spite of this your vow was binding. You swerved from it.
+What did you commit by so acting? A venial, or a mortal, sin? A venial
+sin, for you acted without evil intention. If now you married again with
+the object of bearing children, your sin might be forgiven. But the
+question is again a twofold one: firstly..."
+
+But suddenly Helene, who was getting bored, said with one of her
+bewitching smiles: "But I think that having espoused the true religion I
+cannot be bound by what a false religion laid upon me."
+
+The director of her conscience was astounded at having the case
+presented to him thus with the simplicity of Columbus' egg. He was
+delighted at the unexpected rapidity of his pupil's progress, but could
+not abandon the edifice of argument he had laboriously constructed.
+
+"Let us understand one another, Countess," said he with a smile, and
+began refuting his spiritual daughter's arguments.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+Helene understood that the question was very simple and easy from the
+ecclesiastical point of view, and that her directors were making
+difficulties only because they were apprehensive as to how the matter
+would be regarded by the secular authorities.
+
+So she decided that it was necessary to prepare the opinion of society.
+She provoked the jealousy of the elderly magnate and told him what she
+had told her other suitor; that is, she put the matter so that the only
+way for him to obtain a right over her was to marry her. The elderly
+magnate was at first as much taken aback by this suggestion of marriage
+with a woman whose husband was alive, as the younger man had been, but
+Helene's imperturbable conviction that it was as simple and natural as
+marrying a maiden had its effect on him too. Had Helene herself shown
+the least sign of hesitation, shame, or secrecy, her cause would
+certainly have been lost; but not only did she show no signs of secrecy
+or shame, on the contrary, with good-natured naivete she told her
+intimate friends (and these were all Petersburg) that both the prince
+and the magnate had proposed to her and that she loved both and was
+afraid of grieving either.
+
+A rumor immediately spread in Petersburg, not that Helene wanted to be
+divorced from her husband (had such a report spread many would have
+opposed so illegal an intention) but simply that the unfortunate and
+interesting Helene was in doubt which of the two men she should marry.
+The question was no longer whether this was possible, but only which was
+the better match and how the matter would be regarded at court. There
+were, it is true, some rigid individuals unable to rise to the height of
+such a question, who saw in the project a desecration of the sacrament
+of marriage, but there were not many such and they remained silent,
+while the majority were interested in Helene's good fortune and in the
+question which match would be the more advantageous. Whether it was
+right or wrong to remarry while one had a husband living they did not
+discuss, for that question had evidently been settled by people "wiser
+than you or me," as they said, and to doubt the correctness of that
+decision would be to risk exposing one's stupidity and incapacity to
+live in society.
+
+Only Marya Dmitrievna Akhrosimova, who had come to Petersburg that
+summer to see one of her sons, allowed herself plainly to express an
+opinion contrary to the general one. Meeting Helene at a ball she
+stopped her in the middle of the room and, amid general silence, said in
+her gruff voice: "So wives of living men have started marrying again!
+Perhaps you think you have invented a novelty? You have been
+forestalled, my dear! It was thought of long ago. It is done in all the
+brothels," and with these words Marya Dmitrievna, turning up her wide
+sleeves with her usual threatening gesture and glancing sternly round,
+moved across the room.
+
+Though people were afraid of Marya Dmitrievna she was regarded in
+Petersburg as a buffoon, and so of what she had said they only noticed,
+and repeated in a whisper, the one coarse word she had used, supposing
+the whole sting of her remark to lie in that word.
+
+Prince Vasili, who of late very often forgot what he had said and
+repeated one and the same thing a hundred times, remarked to his
+daughter whenever he chanced to see her:
+
+"Helene, I have a word to say to you," and he would lead her aside,
+drawing her hand downward. "I have heard of certain projects
+concerning... you know. Well my dear child, you know how your father's
+heart rejoices to know that you... You have suffered so much.... But, my
+dear child, consult only your own heart. That is all I have to say," and
+concealing his unvarying emotion he would press his cheek against his
+daughter's and move away.
+
+Bilibin, who had not lost his reputation of an exceedingly clever man,
+and who was one of the disinterested friends so brilliant a woman as
+Helene always has--men friends who can never change into lovers--once
+gave her his view of the matter at a small and intimate gathering.
+
+"Listen, Bilibin," said Helene (she always called friends of that sort
+by their surnames), and she touched his coat sleeve with her white,
+beringed fingers. "Tell me, as you would a sister, what I ought to do.
+Which of the two?"
+
+Bilibin wrinkled up the skin over his eyebrows and pondered, with a
+smile on his lips.
+
+"You are not taking me unawares, you know," said he. "As a true friend,
+I have thought and thought again about your affair. You see, if you
+marry the prince"--he meant the younger man--and he crooked one finger,
+"you forever lose the chance of marrying the other, and you will
+displease the court besides. (You know there is some kind of
+connection.) But if you marry the old count you will make his last days
+happy, and as widow of the Grand... the prince would no longer be making
+a mesalliance by marrying you," and Bilibin smoothed out his forehead.
+
+"That's a true friend!" said Helene beaming, and again touching
+Bilibin's sleeve. "But I love them, you know, and don't want to distress
+either of them. I would give my life for the happiness of them both."
+
+Bilibin shrugged his shoulders, as much as to say that not even he could
+help in that difficulty.
+
+"Une maitresse-femme! * That's what is called putting things squarely.
+She would like to be married to all three at the same time," thought he.
+
+
+* A masterly woman.
+
+"But tell me, how will your husband look at the matter?" Bilibin asked,
+his reputation being so well established that he did not fear to ask so
+naive a question. "Will he agree?"
+
+"Oh, he loves me so!" said Helene, who for some reason imagined that
+Pierre too loved her. "He will do anything for me."
+
+Bilibin puckered his skin in preparation for something witty.
+
+"Even divorce you?" said he.
+
+Helene laughed.
+
+Among those who ventured to doubt the justifiability of the proposed
+marriage was Helene's mother, Princess Kuragina. She was continually
+tormented by jealousy of her daughter, and now that jealousy concerned a
+subject near to her own heart, she could not reconcile herself to the
+idea. She consulted a Russian priest as to the possibility of divorce
+and remarriage during a husband's lifetime, and the priest told her that
+it was impossible, and to her delight showed her a text in the Gospel
+which (as it seemed to him) plainly forbids remarriage while the husband
+is alive.
+
+Armed with these arguments, which appeared to her unanswerable, she
+drove to her daughter's early one morning so as to find her alone.
+
+Having listened to her mother's objections, Helene smiled blandly and
+ironically.
+
+"But it says plainly: 'Whosoever shall marry her that is divorced...'"
+said the old princess.
+
+"Ah, Maman, ne dites pas de betises. Vous ne comprenez rien. Dans ma
+position j'ai des devoirs," * said Helene changing from Russian, in
+which language she always felt that her case did not sound quite clear,
+into French which suited it better.
+
+
+* "Oh, Mamma, don't talk nonsense! You don't understand anything. In my
+position I have obligations."
+
+"But, my dear...."
+
+"Oh, Mamma, how is it you don't understand that the Holy Father, who has
+the right to grant dispensations..."
+
+Just then the lady companion who lived with Helene came in to announce
+that His Highness was in the ballroom and wished to see her.
+
+"Non, dites-lui que je ne veux pas le voir, que je suis furieuse contre
+lui, parce qu'il m'a manque parole." *
+
+
+* "No, tell him I don't wish to see him, I am furious with him for not
+keeping his word to me."
+
+"Comtesse, a tout peche misericorde," * said a fair-haired young man
+with a long face and nose, as he entered the room.
+
+
+* "Countess, there is mercy for every sin."
+
+The old princess rose respectfully and curtsied. The young man who had
+entered took no notice of her. The princess nodded to her daughter and
+sidled out of the room.
+
+"Yes, she is right," thought the old princess, all her convictions
+dissipated by the appearance of His Highness. "She is right, but how is
+it that we in our irrecoverable youth did not know it? Yet it is so
+simple," she thought as she got into her carriage.
+
+By the beginning of August Helene's affairs were clearly defined and she
+wrote a letter to her husband--who, as she imagined, loved her very
+much--informing him of her intention to marry N.N. and of her having
+embraced the one true faith, and asking him to carry out all the
+formalities necessary for a divorce, which would be explained to him by
+the bearer of the letter.
+
+And so I pray God to have you, my friend, in His holy and powerful
+keeping--Your friend Helene.
+
+This letter was brought to Pierre's house when he was on the field of
+Borodino.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+Toward the end of the battle of Borodino, Pierre, having run down from
+Raevski's battery a second time, made his way through a gully to
+Knyazkovo with a crowd of soldiers, reached the dressing station, and
+seeing blood and hearing cries and groans hurried on, still entangled in
+the crowds of soldiers.
+
+The one thing he now desired with his whole soul was to get away quickly
+from the terrible sensations amid which he had lived that day and return
+to ordinary conditions of life and sleep quietly in a room in his own
+bed. He felt that only in the ordinary conditions of life would he be
+able to understand himself and all he had seen and felt. But such
+ordinary conditions of life were nowhere to be found.
+
+Though shells and bullets did not whistle over the road along which he
+was going, still on all sides there was what there had been on the field
+of battle. There were still the same suffering, exhausted, and sometimes
+strangely indifferent faces, the same blood, the same soldiers'
+overcoats, the same sounds of firing which, though distant now, still
+aroused terror, and besides this there were the foul air and the dust.
+
+Having gone a couple of miles along the Mozhaysk road, Pierre sat down
+by the roadside.
+
+Dusk had fallen, and the roar of guns died away. Pierre lay leaning on
+his elbow for a long time, gazing at the shadows that moved past him in
+the darkness. He was continually imagining that a cannon ball was flying
+toward him with a terrific whizz, and then he shuddered and sat up. He
+had no idea how long he had been there. In the middle of the night three
+soldiers, having brought some firewood, settled down near him and began
+lighting a fire.
+
+The soldiers, who threw sidelong glances at Pierre, got the fire to burn
+and placed an iron pot on it into which they broke some dried bread and
+put a little dripping. The pleasant odor of greasy viands mingled with
+the smell of smoke. Pierre sat up and sighed. The three soldiers were
+eating and talking among themselves, taking no notice of him.
+
+"And who may you be?" one of them suddenly asked Pierre, evidently
+meaning what Pierre himself had in mind, namely: "If you want to eat
+we'll give you some food, only let us know whether you are an honest
+man."
+
+"I, I..." said Pierre, feeling it necessary to minimize his social
+position as much as possible so as to be nearer to the soldiers and
+better understood by them. "By rights I am a militia officer, but my men
+are not here. I came to the battle and have lost them."
+
+"There now!" said one of the soldiers.
+
+Another shook his head.
+
+"Would you like a little mash?" the first soldier asked, and handed
+Pierre a wooden spoon after licking it clean.
+
+Pierre sat down by the fire and began eating the mash, as they called
+the food in the cauldron, and he thought it more delicious than any food
+he had ever tasted. As he sat bending greedily over it, helping himself
+to large spoonfuls and chewing one after another, his face was lit up by
+the fire and the soldiers looked at him in silence.
+
+"Where have you to go to? Tell us!" said one of them.
+
+"To Mozhaysk."
+
+"You're a gentleman, aren't you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And what's your name?"
+
+"Peter Kirilych."
+
+"Well then, Peter Kirilych, come along with us, we'll take you there."
+
+In the total darkness the soldiers walked with Pierre to Mozhaysk.
+
+By the time they got near Mozhaysk and began ascending the steep hill
+into the town, the cocks were already crowing. Pierre went on with the
+soldiers, quite forgetting that his inn was at the bottom of the hill
+and that he had already passed it. He would not soon have remembered
+this, such was his state of forgetfulness, had he not halfway up the
+hill stumbled upon his groom, who had been to look for him in the town
+and was returning to the inn. The groom recognized Pierre in the
+darkness by his white hat.
+
+"Your excellency!" he said. "Why, we were beginning to despair! How is
+it you are on foot? And where are you going, please?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" said Pierre.
+
+The soldiers stopped.
+
+"So you've found your folk?" said one of them. "Well, good-by, Peter
+Kirilych--isn't it?"
+
+"Good-bye, Peter Kirilych!" Pierre heard the other voices repeat.
+
+"Good-bye!" he said and turned with his groom toward the inn.
+
+"I ought to give them something!" he thought, and felt in his pocket.
+"No, better not!" said another, inner voice.
+
+There was not a room to be had at the inn, they were all occupied.
+Pierre went out into the yard and, covering himself up head and all, lay
+down in his carriage.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+Scarcely had Pierre laid his head on the pillow before he felt himself
+falling asleep, but suddenly, almost with the distinctness of reality,
+he heard the boom, boom, boom of firing, the thud of projectiles, groans
+and cries, and smelled blood and powder, and a feeling of horror and
+dread of death seized him. Filled with fright he opened his eyes and
+lifted his head from under his cloak. All was tranquil in the yard. Only
+someone's orderly passed through the gateway, splashing through the mud,
+and talked to the innkeeper. Above Pierre's head some pigeons, disturbed
+by the movement he had made in sitting up, fluttered under the dark roof
+of the penthouse. The whole courtyard was permeated by a strong peaceful
+smell of stable yards, delightful to Pierre at that moment. He could see
+the clear starry sky between the dark roofs of two penthouses.
+
+"Thank God, there is no more of that!" he thought, covering up his head
+again. "Oh, what a terrible thing is fear, and how shamefully I yielded
+to it! But they... they were steady and calm all the time, to the
+end..." thought he.
+
+They, in Pierre's mind, were the soldiers, those who had been at the
+battery, those who had given him food, and those who had prayed before
+the icon. They, those strange men he had not previously known, stood out
+clearly and sharply from everyone else.
+
+"To be a soldier, just a soldier!" thought Pierre as he fell asleep, "to
+enter communal life completely, to be imbued by what makes them what
+they are. But how cast off all the superfluous, devilish burden of my
+outer man? There was a time when I could have done it. I could have run
+away from my father, as I wanted to. Or I might have been sent to serve
+as a soldier after the duel with Dolokhov." And the memory of the dinner
+at the English Club when he had challenged Dolokhov flashed through
+Pierre's mind, and then he remembered his benefactor at Torzhok. And now
+a picture of a solemn meeting of the lodge presented itself to his mind.
+It was taking place at the English Club and someone near and dear to him
+sat at the end of the table. "Yes, that is he! It is my benefactor. But
+he died!" thought Pierre. "Yes, he died, and I did not know he was
+alive. How sorry I am that he died, and how glad I am that he is alive
+again!" On one side of the table sat Anatole, Dolokhov, Nesvitski,
+Denisov, and others like them (in his dream the category to which these
+men belonged was as clearly defined in his mind as the category of those
+he termed they), and he heard those people, Anatole and Dolokhov,
+shouting and singing loudly; yet through their shouting the voice of his
+benefactor was heard speaking all the time and the sound of his words
+was as weighty and uninterrupted as the booming on the battlefield, but
+pleasant and comforting. Pierre did not understand what his benefactor
+was saying, but he knew (the categories of thoughts were also quite
+distinct in his dream) that he was talking of goodness and the
+possibility of being what they were. And they with their simple, kind,
+firm faces surrounded his benefactor on all sides. But though they were
+kindly they did not look at Pierre and did not know him. Wishing to
+speak and to attract their attention, he got up, but at that moment his
+legs grew cold and bare.
+
+He felt ashamed, and with one arm covered his legs from which his cloak
+had in fact slipped. For a moment as he was rearranging his cloak Pierre
+opened his eyes and saw the same penthouse roofs, posts, and yard, but
+now they were all bluish, lit up, and glittering with frost or dew.
+
+"It is dawn," thought Pierre. "But that's not what I want. I want to
+hear and understand my benefactor's words." Again he covered himself up
+with his cloak, but now neither the lodge nor his benefactor was there.
+There were only thoughts clearly expressed in words, thoughts that
+someone was uttering or that he himself was formulating.
+
+Afterwards when he recalled those thoughts Pierre was convinced that
+someone outside himself had spoken them, though the impressions of that
+day had evoked them. He had never, it seemed to him, been able to think
+and express his thoughts like that when awake.
+
+"To endure war is the most difficult subordination of man's freedom to
+the law of God," the voice had said. "Simplicity is submission to the
+will of God; you cannot escape from Him. And they are simple. They do
+not talk, but act. The spoken word is silver but the unspoken is golden.
+Man can be master of nothing while he fears death, but he who does not
+fear it possesses all. If there were no suffering, man would not know
+his limitations, would not know himself. The hardest thing (Pierre went
+on thinking, or hearing, in his dream) is to be able in your soul to
+unite the meaning of all. To unite all?" he asked himself. "No, not to
+unite. Thoughts cannot be united, but to harness all these thoughts
+together is what we need! Yes, one must harness them, must harness
+them!" he repeated to himself with inward rapture, feeling that these
+words and they alone expressed what he wanted to say and solved the
+question that tormented him.
+
+"Yes, one must harness, it is time to harness."
+
+"Time to harness, time to harness, your excellency! Your excellency!"
+some voice was repeating. "We must harness, it is time to harness...."
+
+It was the voice of the groom, trying to wake him. The sun shone
+straight into Pierre's face. He glanced at the dirty innyard in the
+middle of which soldiers were watering their lean horses at the pump
+while carts were passing out of the gate. Pierre turned away with
+repugnance, and closing his eyes quickly fell back on the carriage seat.
+"No, I don't want that, I don't want to see and understand that. I want
+to understand what was revealing itself to me in my dream. One second
+more and I should have understood it all! But what am I to do? Harness,
+but how can I harness everything?" and Pierre felt with horror that the
+meaning of all he had seen and thought in the dream had been destroyed.
+
+The groom, the coachman, and the innkeeper told Pierre that an officer
+had come with news that the French were already near Mozhaysk and that
+our men were leaving it.
+
+Pierre got up and, having told them to harness and overtake him, went on
+foot through the town.
+
+The troops were moving on, leaving about ten thousand wounded behind
+them. There were wounded in the yards, at the windows of the houses, and
+the streets were crowded with them. In the streets, around carts that
+were to take some of the wounded away, shouts, curses, and blows could
+be heard. Pierre offered the use of his carriage, which had overtaken
+him, to a wounded general he knew, and drove with him to Moscow. On the
+way Pierre was told of the death of his brother-in-law Anatole and of
+that of Prince Andrew.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+On the thirteenth of August Pierre reached Moscow. Close to the gates of
+the city he was met by Count Rostopchin's adjutant.
+
+"We have been looking for you everywhere," said the adjutant. "The count
+wants to see you particularly. He asks you to come to him at once on a
+very important matter."
+
+Without going home, Pierre took a cab and drove to see the Moscow
+commander-in-chief.
+
+Count Rostopchin had only that morning returned to town from his summer
+villa at Sokolniki. The anteroom and reception room of his house were
+full of officials who had been summoned or had come for orders.
+Vasilchikov and Platov had already seen the count and explained to him
+that it was impossible to defend Moscow and that it would have to be
+surrendered. Though this news was being concealed from the inhabitants,
+the officials--the heads of the various government departments--knew
+that Moscow would soon be in the enemy's hands, just as Count Rostopchin
+himself knew it, and to escape personal responsibility they had all come
+to the governor to ask how they were to deal with their various
+departments.
+
+As Pierre was entering the reception room a courier from the army came
+out of Rostopchin's private room.
+
+In answer to questions with which he was greeted, the courier made a
+despairing gesture with his hand and passed through the room.
+
+While waiting in the reception room Pierre with weary eyes watched the
+various officials, old and young, military and civilian, who were there.
+They all seemed dissatisfied and uneasy. Pierre went up to a group of
+men, one of whom he knew. After greeting Pierre they continued their
+conversation.
+
+"If they're sent out and brought back again later on it will do no harm,
+but as things are now one can't answer for anything."
+
+"But you see what he writes..." said another, pointing to a printed
+sheet he held in his hand.
+
+"That's another matter. That's necessary for the people," said the
+first.
+
+"What is it?" asked Pierre.
+
+"Oh, it's a fresh broadsheet."
+
+Pierre took it and began reading.
+
+His Serene Highness has passed through Mozhaysk in order to join up with
+the troops moving toward him and has taken up a strong position where
+the enemy will not soon attack him. Forty eight guns with ammunition
+have been sent him from here, and his Serene Highness says he will
+defend Moscow to the last drop of blood and is even ready to fight in
+the streets. Do not be upset, brothers, that the law courts are closed;
+things have to be put in order, and we will deal with villains in our
+own way! When the time comes I shall want both town and peasant lads and
+will raise the cry a day or two beforehand, but they are not wanted yet
+so I hold my peace. An ax will be useful, a hunting spear not bad, but a
+three-pronged fork will be best of all: a Frenchman is no heavier than a
+sheaf of rye. Tomorrow after dinner I shall take the Iberian icon of the
+Mother of God to the wounded in the Catherine Hospital where we will
+have some water blessed. That will help them to get well quicker. I,
+too, am well now: one of my eyes was sore but now I am on the lookout
+with both.
+
+"But military men have told me that it is impossible to fight in the
+town," said Pierre, "and that the position..."
+
+"Well, of course! That's what we were saying," replied the first
+speaker.
+
+"And what does he mean by 'One of my eyes was sore but now I am on the
+lookout with both'?" asked Pierre.
+
+"The count had a sty," replied the adjutant smiling, "and was very much
+upset when I told him people had come to ask what was the matter with
+him. By the by, Count," he added suddenly, addressing Pierre with a
+smile, "we heard that you have family troubles and that the countess,
+your wife..."
+
+"I have heard nothing," Pierre replied unconcernedly. "But what have you
+heard?"
+
+"Oh, well, you know people often invent things. I only say what I
+heard."
+
+"But what did you hear?"
+
+"Well, they say," continued the adjutant with the same smile, "that the
+countess, your wife, is preparing to go abroad. I expect it's
+nonsense...."
+
+"Possibly," remarked Pierre, looking about him absent-mindedly. "And who
+is that?" he asked, indicating a short old man in a clean blue peasant
+overcoat, with a big snow-white beard and eyebrows and a ruddy face.
+
+"He? That's a tradesman, that is to say, he's the restaurant keeper,
+Vereshchagin. Perhaps you have heard of that affair with the
+proclamation."
+
+"Oh, so that is Vereshchagin!" said Pierre, looking at the firm, calm
+face of the old man and seeking any indication of his being a traitor.
+
+"That's not he himself, that's the father of the fellow who wrote the
+proclamation," said the adjutant. "The young man is in prison and I
+expect it will go hard with him."
+
+An old gentleman wearing a star and another official, a German wearing a
+cross round his neck, approached the speaker.
+
+
+"It's a complicated story, you know," said the adjutant. "That
+proclamation appeared about two months ago. The count was informed of
+it. He gave orders to investigate the matter. Gabriel Ivanovich here
+made the inquiries. The proclamation had passed through exactly sixty-
+three hands. He asked one, 'From whom did you get it?' 'From so-and-so.'
+He went to the next one. 'From whom did you get it?' and so on till he
+reached Vereshchagin, a half educated tradesman, you know, 'a pet of a
+trader,'" said the adjutant smiling. "They asked him, 'Who gave it you?'
+And the point is that we knew whom he had it from. He could only have
+had it from the Postmaster. But evidently they had come to some
+understanding. He replied: 'From no one; I made it up myself.' They
+threatened and questioned him, but he stuck to that: 'I made it up
+myself.' And so it was reported to the count, who sent for the man.
+'From whom did you get the proclamation?' 'I wrote it myself.' Well, you
+know the count," said the adjutant cheerfully, with a smile of pride,
+"he flared up dreadfully--and just think of the fellow's audacity,
+lying, and obstinacy!"
+
+"And the count wanted him to say it was from Klyucharev? I understand!"
+said Pierre.
+
+"Not at all," rejoined the adjutant in dismay. "Klyucharev had his own
+sins to answer for without that and that is why he has been banished.
+But the point is that the count was much annoyed. 'How could you have
+written it yourself?' said he, and he took up the Hamburg Gazette that
+was lying on the table. 'Here it is! You did not write it yourself but
+translated it, and translated it abominably, because you don't even know
+French, you fool.' And what do you think? 'No,' said he, 'I have not
+read any papers, I made it up myself.' 'If that's so, you're a traitor
+and I'll have you tried, and you'll be hanged! Say from whom you had
+it.' 'I have seen no papers, I made it up myself.' And that was the end
+of it. The count had the father fetched, but the fellow stuck to it. He
+was sent for trial and condemned to hard labor, I believe. Now the
+father has come to intercede for him. But he's a good-for-nothing lad!
+You know that sort of tradesman's son, a dandy and lady-killer. He
+attended some lectures somewhere and imagines that the devil is no match
+for him. That's the sort of fellow he is. His father keeps a cookshop
+here by the Stone Bridge, and you know there was a large icon of God
+Almighty painted with a scepter in one hand and an orb in the other.
+Well, he took that icon home with him for a few days and what did he do?
+He found some scoundrel of a painter..."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+In the middle of this fresh tale Pierre was summoned to the commander in
+chief.
+
+When he entered the private room Count Rostopchin, puckering his face,
+was rubbing his forehead and eyes with his hand. A short man was saying
+something, but when Pierre entered he stopped speaking and went out.
+
+"Ah, how do you do, great warrior?" said Rostopchin as soon as the short
+man had left the room. "We have heard of your prowess. But that's not
+the point. Between ourselves, mon cher, do you belong to the Masons?" he
+went on severely, as though there were something wrong about it which he
+nevertheless intended to pardon. Pierre remained silent. "I am well
+informed, my friend, but I am aware that there are Masons and I hope
+that you are not one of those who on pretense of saving mankind wish to
+ruin Russia."
+
+"Yes, I am a Mason," Pierre replied.
+
+"There, you see, mon cher! I expect you know that Messrs. Speranski and
+Magnitski have been deported to their proper place. Mr. Klyucharev has
+been treated in the same way, and so have others who on the plea of
+building up the temple of Solomon have tried to destroy the temple of
+their fatherland. You can understand that there are reasons for this and
+that I could not have exiled the Postmaster had he not been a harmful
+person. It has now come to my knowledge that you lent him your carriage
+for his removal from town, and that you have even accepted papers from
+him for safe custody. I like you and don't wish you any harm and--as you
+are only half my age--I advise you, as a father would, to cease all
+communication with men of that stamp and to leave here as soon as
+possible."
+
+"But what did Klyucharev do wrong, Count?" asked Pierre.
+
+"That is for me to know, but not for you to ask," shouted Rostopchin.
+
+"If he is accused of circulating Napoleon's proclamation it is not
+proved that he did so," said Pierre without looking at Rostopchin, "and
+Vereshchagin..."
+
+"There we are!" Rostopchin shouted at Pierre louder than before,
+frowning suddenly. "Vereshchagin is a renegade and a traitor who will be
+punished as he deserves," said he with the vindictive heat with which
+people speak when recalling an insult. "But I did not summon you to
+discuss my actions, but to give you advice--or an order if you prefer
+it. I beg you to leave the town and break off all communication with
+such men as Klyucharev. And I will knock the nonsense out of anybody"--
+but probably realizing that he was shouting at Bezukhov who so far was
+not guilty of anything, he added, taking Pierre's hand in a friendly
+manner, "We are on the eve of a public disaster and I haven't time to be
+polite to everybody who has business with me. My head is sometimes in a
+whirl. Well, mon cher, what are you doing personally?"
+
+"Why, nothing," answered Pierre without raising his eyes or changing the
+thoughtful expression of his face.
+
+The count frowned.
+
+"A word of friendly advice, mon cher. Be off as soon as you can, that's
+all I have to tell you. Happy he who has ears to hear. Good-bye, my dear
+fellow. Oh, by the by!" he shouted through the doorway after Pierre, "is
+it true that the countess has fallen into the clutches of the holy
+fathers of the Society of Jesus?"
+
+Pierre did not answer and left Rostopchin's room more sullen and angry
+than he had ever before shown himself.
+
+When he reached home it was already getting dark. Some eight people had
+come to see him that evening: the secretary of a committee, the colonel
+of his battalion, his steward, his major-domo, and various petitioners.
+They all had business with Pierre and wanted decisions from him. Pierre
+did not understand and was not interested in any of these questions and
+only answered them in order to get rid of these people. When left alone
+at last he opened and read his wife's letter.
+
+"They, the soldiers at the battery, Prince Andrew killed... that old
+man... Simplicity is submission to God. Suffering is necessary... the
+meaning of all... one must harness... my wife is getting married... One
+must forget and understand..." And going to his bed he threw himself on
+it without undressing and immediately fell asleep.
+
+When he awoke next morning the major-domo came to inform him that a
+special messenger, a police officer, had come from Count Rostopchin to
+know whether Count Bezukhov had left or was leaving the town.
+
+A dozen persons who had business with Pierre were awaiting him in the
+drawing room. Pierre dressed hurriedly and, instead of going to see
+them, went to the back porch and out through the gate.
+
+From that time till the end of the destruction of Moscow no one of
+Bezukhov's household, despite all the search they made, saw Pierre again
+or knew where he was.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+The Rostovs remained in Moscow till the first of September, that is,
+till the eve of the enemy's entry into the city.
+
+After Petya had joined Obolenski's regiment of Cossacks and left for
+Belaya Tserkov where that regiment was forming, the countess was seized
+with terror. The thought that both her sons were at the war, had both
+gone from under her wing, that today or tomorrow either or both of them
+might be killed like the three sons of one of her acquaintances, struck
+her that summer for the first time with cruel clearness. She tried to
+get Nicholas back and wished to go herself to join Petya, or to get him
+an appointment somewhere in Petersburg, but neither of these proved
+possible. Petya could not return unless his regiment did so or unless he
+was transferred to another regiment on active service. Nicholas was
+somewhere with the army and had not sent a word since his last letter,
+in which he had given a detailed account of his meeting with Princess
+Mary. The countess did not sleep at night, or when she did fall asleep
+dreamed that she saw her sons lying dead. After many consultations and
+conversations, the count at last devised means to tranquillize her. He
+got Petya transferred from Obolenski's regiment to Bezukhov's, which was
+in training near Moscow. Though Petya would remain in the service, this
+transfer would give the countess the consolation of seeing at least one
+of her sons under her wing, and she hoped to arrange matters for her
+Petya so as not to let him go again, but always get him appointed to
+places where he could not possibly take part in a battle. As long as
+Nicholas alone was in danger the countess imagined that she loved her
+first-born more than all her other children and even reproached herself
+for it; but when her youngest: the scapegrace who had been bad at
+lessons, was always breaking things in the house and making himself a
+nuisance to everybody, that snub-nosed Petya with his merry black eyes
+and fresh rosy cheeks where soft down was just beginning to show--when
+he was thrown amid those big, dreadful, cruel men who were fighting
+somewhere about something and apparently finding pleasure in it--then
+his mother thought she loved him more, much more, than all her other
+children. The nearer the time came for Petya to return, the more uneasy
+grew the countess. She began to think she would never live to see such
+happiness. The presence of Sonya, of her beloved Natasha, or even of her
+husband irritated her. "What do I want with them? I want no one but
+Petya," she thought.
+
+At the end of August the Rostovs received another letter from Nicholas.
+He wrote from the province of Voronezh where he had been sent to procure
+remounts, but that letter did not set the countess at ease. Knowing that
+one son was out of danger she became the more anxious about Petya.
+
+Though by the twentieth of August nearly all the Rostovs' acquaintances
+had left Moscow, and though everybody tried to persuade the countess to
+get away as quickly as possible, she would not hear of leaving before
+her treasure, her adored Petya, returned. On the twenty-eighth of August
+he arrived. The passionate tenderness with which his mother received him
+did not please the sixteen-year-old officer. Though she concealed from
+him her intention of keeping him under her wing, Petya guessed her
+designs, and instinctively fearing that he might give way to emotion
+when with her--might "become womanish" as he termed it to himself--he
+treated her coldly, avoided her, and during his stay in Moscow attached
+himself exclusively to Natasha for whom he had always had a particularly
+brotherly tenderness, almost lover-like.
+
+Owing to the count's customary carelessness nothing was ready for their
+departure by the twenty-eighth of August and the carts that were to come
+from their Ryazan and Moscow estates to remove their household
+belongings did not arrive till the thirtieth.
+
+From the twenty-eighth till the thirty-first all Moscow was in a bustle
+and commotion. Every day thousands of men wounded at Borodino were
+brought in by the Dorogomilov gate and taken to various parts of Moscow,
+and thousands of carts conveyed the inhabitants and their possessions
+out by the other gates. In spite of Rostopchin's broadsheets, or because
+of them or independently of them, the strangest and most contradictory
+rumors were current in the town. Some said that no one was to be allowed
+to leave the city, others on the contrary said that all the icons had
+been taken out of the churches and everybody was to be ordered to leave.
+Some said there had been another battle after Borodino at which the
+French had been routed, while others on the contrary reported that the
+Russian army had been destroyed. Some talked about the Moscow militia
+which, preceded by the clergy, would go to the Three Hills; others
+whispered that Augustin had been forbidden to leave, that traitors had
+been seized, that the peasants were rioting and robbing people on their
+way from Moscow, and so on. But all this was only talk; in reality
+(though the Council of Fili, at which it was decided to abandon Moscow,
+had not yet been held) both those who went away and those who remained
+behind felt, though they did not show it, that Moscow would certainly be
+abandoned, and that they ought to get away as quickly as possible and
+save their belongings. It was felt that everything would suddenly break
+up and change, but up to the first of September nothing had done so. As
+a criminal who is being led to execution knows that he must die
+immediately, but yet looks about him and straightens the cap that is
+awry on his head, so Moscow involuntarily continued its wonted life,
+though it knew that the time of its destruction was near when the
+conditions of life to which its people were accustomed to submit would
+be completely upset.
+
+During the three days preceding the occupation of Moscow the whole
+Rostov family was absorbed in various activities. The head of the
+family, Count Ilya Rostov, continually drove about the city collecting
+the current rumors from all sides and gave superficial and hasty orders
+at home about the preparations for their departure.
+
+The countess watched the things being packed, was dissatisfied with
+everything, was constantly in pursuit of Petya who was always running
+away from her, and was jealous of Natasha with whom he spent all his
+time. Sonya alone directed the practical side of matters by getting
+things packed. But of late Sonya had been particularly sad and silent.
+Nicholas' letter in which he mentioned Princess Mary had elicited, in
+her presence, joyous comments from the countess, who saw an intervention
+of Providence in this meeting of the princess and Nicholas.
+
+"I was never pleased at Bolkonski's engagement to Natasha," said the
+countess, "but I always wanted Nicholas to marry the princess, and had a
+presentiment that it would happen. What a good thing it would be!"
+
+Sonya felt that this was true: that the only possibility of retrieving
+the Rostovs' affairs was by Nicholas marrying a rich woman, and that the
+princess was a good match. It was very bitter for her. But despite her
+grief, or perhaps just because of it, she took on herself all the
+difficult work of directing the storing and packing of their things and
+was busy for whole days. The count and countess turned to her when they
+had any orders to give. Petya and Natasha on the contrary, far from
+helping their parents, were generally a nuisance and a hindrance to
+everyone. Almost all day long the house resounded with their running
+feet, their cries, and their spontaneous laughter. They laughed and were
+gay not because there was any reason to laugh, but because gaiety and
+mirth were in their hearts and so everything that happened was a cause
+for gaiety and laughter to them. Petya was in high spirits because
+having left home a boy he had returned (as everybody told him) a fine
+young man, because he was at home, because he had left Belaya Tserkov
+where there was no hope of soon taking part in a battle and had come to
+Moscow where there was to be fighting in a few days, and chiefly because
+Natasha, whose lead he always followed, was in high spirits. Natasha was
+gay because she had been sad too long and now nothing reminded her of
+the cause of her sadness, and because she was feeling well. She was also
+happy because she had someone to adore her: the adoration of others was
+a lubricant the wheels of her machine needed to make them run freely--
+and Petya adored her. Above all, they were gay because there was a war
+near Moscow, there would be fighting at the town gates, arms were being
+given out, everybody was escaping--going away somewhere, and in general
+something extraordinary was happening, and that is always exciting,
+especially to the young.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+On Saturday, the thirty-first of August, everything in the Rostovs'
+house seemed topsy-turvy. All the doors were open, all the furniture was
+being carried out or moved about, and the mirrors and pictures had been
+taken down. There were trunks in the rooms, and hay, wrapping paper, and
+ropes were scattered about. The peasants and house serfs carrying out
+the things were treading heavily on the parquet floors. The yard was
+crowded with peasant carts, some loaded high and already corded up,
+others still empty.
+
+The voices and footsteps of the many servants and of the peasants who
+had come with the carts resounded as they shouted to one another in the
+yard and in the house. The count had been out since morning. The
+countess had a headache brought on by all the noise and turmoil and was
+lying down in the new sitting room with a vinegar compress on her head.
+Petya was not at home, he had gone to visit a friend with whom he meant
+to obtain a transfer from the militia to the active army. Sonya was in
+the ballroom looking after the packing of the glass and china. Natasha
+was sitting on the floor of her dismantled room with dresses, ribbons,
+and scarves strewn all about her, gazing fixedly at the floor and
+holding in her hands the old ball dress (already out of fashion) which
+she had worn at her first Petersburg ball.
+
+Natasha was ashamed of doing nothing when everyone else was so busy, and
+several times that morning had tried to set to work, but her heart was
+not in it, and she could not and did not know how to do anything except
+with all her heart and all her might. For a while she had stood beside
+Sonya while the china was being packed and tried to help, but soon gave
+it up and went to her room to pack her own things. At first she found it
+amusing to give away dresses and ribbons to the maids, but when that was
+done and what was left had still to be packed, she found it dull.
+
+"Dunyasha, you pack! You will, won't you, dear?" And when Dunyasha
+willingly promised to do it all for her, Natasha sat down on the floor,
+took her old ball dress, and fell into a reverie quite unrelated to what
+ought to have occupied her thoughts now. She was roused from her reverie
+by the talk of the maids in the next room (which was theirs) and by the
+sound of their hurried footsteps going to the back porch. Natasha got up
+and looked out of the window. An enormously long row of carts full of
+wounded men had stopped in the street.
+
+The housekeeper, the old nurse, the cooks, coachmen, maids, footmen,
+postilions, and scullions stood at the gate, staring at the wounded.
+
+Natasha, throwing a clean pocket handkerchief over her hair and holding
+an end of it in each hand, went out into the street.
+
+The former housekeeper, old Mavra Kuzminichna, had stepped out of the
+crowd by the gate, gone up to a cart with a hood constructed of bast
+mats, and was speaking to a pale young officer who lay inside. Natasha
+moved a few steps forward and stopped shyly, still holding her
+handkerchief, and listened to what the housekeeper was saying.
+
+"Then you have nobody in Moscow?" she was saying. "You would be more
+comfortable somewhere in a house... in ours, for instance... the family
+are leaving."
+
+"I don't know if it would be allowed," replied the officer in a weak
+voice. "Here is our commanding officer... ask him," and he pointed to a
+stout major who was walking back along the street past the row of carts.
+
+Natasha glanced with frightened eyes at the face of the wounded officer
+and at once went to meet the major.
+
+"May the wounded men stay in our house?" she asked.
+
+The major raised his hand to his cap with a smile.
+
+"Which one do you want, Ma'am'selle?" said he, screwing up his eyes and
+smiling.
+
+Natasha quietly repeated her question, and her face and whole manner
+were so serious, though she was still holding the ends of her
+handkerchief, that the major ceased smiling and after some reflection--
+as if considering in how far the thing was possible--replied in the
+affirmative.
+
+"Oh yes, why not? They may," he said.
+
+With a slight inclination of her head, Natasha stepped back quickly to
+Mavra Kuzminichna, who stood talking compassionately to the officer.
+
+"They may. He says they may!" whispered Natasha.
+
+The cart in which the officer lay was turned into the Rostovs' yard, and
+dozens of carts with wounded men began at the invitation of the
+townsfolk to turn into the yards and to draw up at the entrances of the
+houses in Povarskaya Street. Natasha was evidently pleased to be dealing
+with new people outside the ordinary routine of her life. She and Mavra
+Kuzminichna tried to get as many of the wounded as possible into their
+yard.
+
+"Your Papa must be told, though," said Mavra Kuzminichna.
+
+"Never mind, never mind, what does it matter? For one day we can move
+into the drawing room. They can have all our half of the house."
+
+"There now, young lady, you do take things into your head! Even if we
+put them into the wing, the men's room, or the nurse's room, we must ask
+permission."
+
+"Well, I'll ask."
+
+Natasha ran into the house and went on tiptoe through the half-open door
+into the sitting room, where there was a smell of vinegar and Hoffman's
+drops.
+
+"Are you asleep, Mamma?"
+
+"Oh, what sleep-?" said the countess, waking up just as she was dropping
+into a doze.
+
+"Mamma darling!" said Natasha, kneeling by her mother and bringing her
+face close to her mother's, "I am sorry, forgive me, I'll never do it
+again; I woke you up! Mavra Kuzminichna has sent me: they have brought
+some wounded here--officers. Will you let them come? They have nowhere
+to go. I knew you'd let them come!" she said quickly all in one breath.
+
+"What officers? Whom have they brought? I don't understand anything
+about it," said the countess.
+
+Natasha laughed, and the countess too smiled slightly.
+
+"I knew you'd give permission... so I'll tell them," and, having kissed
+her mother, Natasha got up and went to the door.
+
+In the hall she met her father, who had returned with bad news.
+
+"We've stayed too long!" said the count with involuntary vexation. "The
+club is closed and the police are leaving."
+
+"Papa, is it all right--I've invited some of the wounded into the
+house?" said Natasha.
+
+"Of course it is," he answered absently. "That's not the point. I beg
+you not to indulge in trifles now, but to help to pack, and tomorrow we
+must go, go, go!...."
+
+And the count gave a similar order to the major-domo and the servants.
+
+At dinner Petya having returned home told them the news he had heard. He
+said the people had been getting arms in the Kremlin, and that though
+Rostopchin's broadsheet had said that he would sound a call two or three
+days in advance, the order had certainly already been given for everyone
+to go armed to the Three Hills tomorrow, and that there would be a big
+battle there.
+
+The countess looked with timid horror at her son's eager, excited face
+as he said this. She realized that if she said a word about his not
+going to the battle (she knew he enjoyed the thought of the impending
+engagement) he would say something about men, honor, and the fatherland-
+-something senseless, masculine, and obstinate which there would be no
+contradicting, and her plans would be spoiled; and so, hoping to arrange
+to leave before then and take Petya with her as their protector and
+defender, she did not answer him, but after dinner called the count
+aside and implored him with tears to take her away quickly, that very
+night if possible. With a woman's involuntary loving cunning she, who
+till then had not shown any alarm, said that she would die of fright if
+they did not leave that very night. Without any pretense she was now
+afraid of everything.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+Madame Schoss, who had been out to visit her daughter, increased the
+countess' fears still more by telling what she had seen at a spirit
+dealer's in Myasnitski Street. When returning by that street she had
+been unable to pass because of a drunken crowd rioting in front of the
+shop. She had taken a cab and driven home by a side street and the
+cabman had told her that the people were breaking open the barrels at
+the drink store, having received orders to do so.
+
+After dinner the whole Rostov household set to work with enthusiastic
+haste packing their belongings and preparing for their departure. The
+old count, suddenly setting to work, kept passing from the yard to the
+house and back again, shouting confused instructions to the hurrying
+people, and flurrying them still more. Petya directed things in the
+yard. Sonya, owing to the count's contradictory orders, lost her head
+and did not know what to do. The servants ran noisily about the house
+and yard, shouting and disputing. Natasha, with the ardor characteristic
+of all she did suddenly set to work too. At first her intervention in
+the business of packing was received skeptically. Everybody expected
+some prank from her and did not wish to obey her; but she resolutely and
+passionately demanded obedience, grew angry and nearly cried because
+they did not heed her, and at last succeeded in making them believe her.
+Her first exploit, which cost her immense effort and established her
+authority, was the packing of the carpets. The count had valuable
+Gobelin tapestries and Persian carpets in the house. When Natasha set to
+work two cases were standing open in the ballroom, one almost full up
+with crockery, the other with carpets. There was also much china
+standing on the tables, and still more was being brought in from the
+storeroom. A third case was needed and servants had gone to fetch it.
+
+"Sonya, wait a bit--we'll pack everything into these," said Natasha.
+
+"You can't, Miss, we have tried to," said the butler's assistant.
+
+"No, wait a minute, please."
+
+And Natasha began rapidly taking out of the case dishes and plates
+wrapped in paper.
+
+"The dishes must go in here among the carpets," said she.
+
+"Why, it's a mercy if we can get the carpets alone into three cases,"
+said the butler's assistant.
+
+"Oh, wait, please!" And Natasha began rapidly and deftly sorting out the
+things. "These aren't needed," said she, putting aside some plates of
+Kiev ware. "These--yes, these must go among the carpets," she said,
+referring to the Saxony china dishes.
+
+"Don't, Natasha! Leave it alone! We'll get it all packed," urged Sonya
+reproachfully.
+
+"What a young lady she is!" remarked the major-domo.
+
+But Natasha would not give in. She turned everything out and began
+quickly repacking, deciding that the inferior Russian carpets and
+unnecessary crockery should not be taken at all. When everything had
+been taken out of the cases, they recommenced packing, and it turned out
+that when the cheaper things not worth taking had nearly all been
+rejected, the valuable ones really did all go into the two cases. Only
+the lid of the case containing the carpets would not shut down. A few
+more things might have been taken out, but Natasha insisted on having
+her own way. She packed, repacked, pressed, made the butler's assistant
+and Petya--whom she had drawn into the business of packing--press on the
+lid, and made desperate efforts herself.
+
+"That's enough, Natasha," said Sonya. "I see you were right, but just
+take out the top one."
+
+"I won't!" cried Natasha, with one hand holding back the hair that hung
+over her perspiring face, while with the other she pressed down the
+carpets. "Now press, Petya! Press, Vasilich, press hard!" she cried.
+
+The carpets yielded and the lid closed; Natasha, clapping her hands,
+screamed with delight and tears fell from her eyes. But this only lasted
+a moment. She at once set to work afresh and they now trusted her
+completely. The count was not angry even when they told him that Natasha
+had countermanded an order of his, and the servants now came to her to
+ask whether a cart was sufficiently loaded, and whether it might be
+corded up. Thanks to Natasha's directions the work now went on
+expeditiously, unnecessary things were left, and the most valuable
+packed as compactly as possible.
+
+But hard as they all worked till quite late that night, they could not
+get everything packed. The countess had fallen asleep and the count,
+having put off their departure till next morning, went to bed.
+
+Sonya and Natasha slept in the sitting room without undressing.
+
+That night another wounded man was driven down the Povarskaya, and Mavra
+Kuzminichna, who was standing at the gate, had him brought into the
+Rostovs' yard. Mavra Kuzminichna concluded that he was a very important
+man. He was being conveyed in a caleche with a raised hood, and was
+quite covered by an apron. On the box beside the driver sat a venerable
+old attendant. A doctor and two soldiers followed the carriage in a
+cart.
+
+"Please come in here. The masters are going away and the whole house
+will be empty," said the old woman to the old attendant.
+
+"Well, perhaps," said he with a sigh. "We don't expect to get him home
+alive! We have a house of our own in Moscow, but it's a long way from
+here, and there's nobody living in it."
+
+"Do us the honor to come in, there's plenty of everything in the
+master's house. Come in," said Mavra Kuzminichna. "Is he very ill?" she
+asked.
+
+The attendant made a hopeless gesture.
+
+"We don't expect to get him home! We must ask the doctor."
+
+And the old servant got down from the box and went up to the cart.
+
+"All right!" said the doctor.
+
+The old servant returned to the caleche, looked into it, shook his head
+disconsolately, told the driver to turn into the yard, and stopped
+beside Mavra Kuzminichna.
+
+"O, Lord Jesus Christ!" she murmured.
+
+She invited them to take the wounded man into the house.
+
+"The masters won't object..." she said.
+
+But they had to avoid carrying the man upstairs, and so they took him
+into the wing and put him in the room that had been Madame Schoss'.
+
+This wounded man was Prince Andrew Bolkonski.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+Moscow's last day had come. It was a clear bright autumn day, a Sunday.
+The church bells everywhere were ringing for service, just as usual on
+Sundays. Nobody seemed yet to realize what awaited the city.
+
+Only two things indicated the social condition of Moscow--the rabble,
+that is the poor people, and the price of commodities. An enormous crowd
+of factory hands, house serfs, and peasants, with whom some officials,
+seminarists, and gentry were mingled, had gone early that morning to the
+Three Hills. Having waited there for Rostopchin who did not turn up,
+they became convinced that Moscow would be surrendered, and then
+dispersed all about the town to the public houses and cookshops. Prices
+too that day indicated the state of affairs. The price of weapons, of
+gold, of carts and horses, kept rising, but the value of paper money and
+city articles kept falling, so that by midday there were instances of
+carters removing valuable goods, such as cloth, and receiving in payment
+a half of what they carted, while peasant horses were fetching five
+hundred rubles each, and furniture, mirrors, and bronzes were being
+given away for nothing.
+
+In the Rostovs' staid old-fashioned house the dissolution of former
+conditions of life was but little noticeable. As to the serfs the only
+indication was that three out of their huge retinue disappeared during
+the night, but nothing was stolen; and as to the value of their
+possessions, the thirty peasant carts that had come in from their
+estates and which many people envied proved to be extremely valuable and
+they were offered enormous sums of money for them. Not only were huge
+sums offered for the horses and carts, but on the previous evening and
+early in the morning of the first of September, orderlies and servants
+sent by wounded officers came to the Rostovs' and wounded men dragged
+themselves there from the Rostovs' and from neighboring houses where
+they were accommodated, entreating the servants to try to get them a
+lift out of Moscow. The major-domo to whom these entreaties were
+addressed, though he was sorry for the wounded, resolutely refused,
+saying that he dare not even mention the matter to the count. Pity these
+wounded men as one might, it was evident that if they were given one
+cart there would be no reason to refuse another, or all the carts and
+one's own carriages as well. Thirty carts could not save all the wounded
+and in the general catastrophe one could not disregard oneself and one's
+own family. So thought the major-domo on his master's behalf.
+
+On waking up that morning Count Ilya Rostov left his bedroom softly, so
+as not to wake the countess who had fallen asleep only toward morning,
+and came out to the porch in his lilac silk dressing gown. In the yard
+stood the carts ready corded. The carriages were at the front porch. The
+major-domo stood at the porch talking to an elderly orderly and to a
+pale young officer with a bandaged arm. On seeing the count the major-
+domo made a significant and stern gesture to them both to go away.
+
+"Well, Vasilich, is everything ready?" asked the count, and stroking his
+bald head he looked good-naturedly at the officer and the orderly and
+nodded to them. (He liked to see new faces.)
+
+"We can harness at once, your excellency."
+
+"Well, that's right. As soon as the countess wakes we'll be off, God
+willing! What is it, gentlemen?" he added, turning to the officer. "Are
+you staying in my house?"
+
+The officer came nearer and suddenly his face flushed crimson.
+
+"Count, be so good as to allow me... for God's sake, to get into some
+corner of one of your carts! I have nothing here with me.... I shall be
+all right on a loaded cart..."
+
+Before the officer had finished speaking the orderly made the same
+request on behalf of his master.
+
+"Oh, yes, yes, yes!" said the count hastily. "I shall be very pleased,
+very pleased. Vasilich, you'll see to it. Just unload one or two carts.
+Well, what of it... do what's necessary..." said the count, muttering
+some indefinite order.
+
+But at the same moment an expression of warm gratitude on the officer's
+face had already sealed the order. The count looked around him. In the
+yard, at the gates, at the window of the wings, wounded officers and
+their orderlies were to be seen. They were all looking at the count and
+moving toward the porch.
+
+"Please step into the gallery, your excellency," said the major-domo.
+"What are your orders about the pictures?"
+
+The count went into the house with him, repeating his order not to
+refuse the wounded who asked for a lift.
+
+"Well, never mind, some of the things can be unloaded," he added in a
+soft, confidential voice, as though afraid of being overheard.
+
+At nine o'clock the countess woke up, and Matrena Timofeevna, who had
+been her lady's maid before her marriage and now performed a sort of
+chief gendarme's duty for her, came to say that Madame Schoss was much
+offended and the young ladies' summer dresses could not be left behind.
+On inquiry, the countess learned that Madame Schoss was offended because
+her trunk had been taken down from its cart, and all the loads were
+being uncorded and the luggage taken out of the carts to make room for
+wounded men whom the count in the simplicity of his heart had ordered
+that they should take with them. The countess sent for her husband.
+
+"What is this, my dear? I hear that the luggage is being unloaded."
+
+"You know, love, I wanted to tell you... Countess dear... an officer
+came to me to ask for a few carts for the wounded. After all, ours are
+things that can be bought but think what being left behind means to
+them!... Really now, in our own yard--we asked them in ourselves and
+there are officers among them.... You know, I think, my dear... let them
+be taken... where's the hurry?"
+
+The count spoke timidly, as he always did when talking of money matters.
+The countess was accustomed to this tone as a precursor of news of
+something detrimental to the children's interests, such as the building
+of a new gallery or conservatory, the inauguration of a private theater
+or an orchestra. She was accustomed always to oppose anything announced
+in that timid tone and considered it her duty to do so.
+
+She assumed her dolefully submissive manner and said to her husband:
+"Listen to me, Count, you have managed matters so that we are getting
+nothing for the house, and now you wish to throw away all our--all the
+children's property! You said yourself that we have a hundred thousand
+rubles' worth of things in the house. I don't consent, my dear, I don't!
+Do as you please! It's the government's business to look after the
+wounded; they know that. Look at the Lopukhins opposite, they cleared
+out everything two days ago. That's what other people do. It's only we
+who are such fools. If you have no pity on me, have some for the
+children."
+
+Flourishing his arms in despair the count left the room without
+replying.
+
+"Papa, what are you doing that for?" asked Natasha, who had followed him
+into her mother's room.
+
+"Nothing! What business is it of yours?" muttered the count angrily.
+
+"But I heard," said Natasha. "Why does Mamma object?"
+
+"What business is it of yours?" cried the count.
+
+Natasha stepped up to the window and pondered.
+
+"Papa! Here's Berg coming to see us," said she, looking out of the
+window.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+Berg, the Rostovs' son-in-law, was already a colonel wearing the orders
+of Vladimir and Anna, and he still filled the quiet and agreeable post
+of assistant to the head of the staff of the assistant commander of the
+first division of the Second Army.
+
+On the first of September he had come to Moscow from the army.
+
+He had nothing to do in Moscow, but he had noticed that everyone in the
+army was asking for leave to visit Moscow and had something to do there.
+So he considered it necessary to ask for leave of absence for family and
+domestic reasons.
+
+Berg drove up to his father-in-law's house in his spruce little trap
+with a pair of sleek roans, exactly like those of a certain prince. He
+looked attentively at the carts in the yard and while going up to the
+porch took out a clean pocket handkerchief and tied a knot in it.
+
+From the anteroom Berg ran with smooth though impatient steps into the
+drawing room, where he embraced the count, kissed the hands of Natasha
+and Sonya, and hastened to inquire after "Mamma's" health.
+
+"Health, at a time like this?" said the count. "Come, tell us the news!
+Is the army retreating or will there be another battle?"
+
+"God Almighty alone can decide the fate of our fatherland, Papa," said
+Berg. "The army is burning with a spirit of heroism and the leaders, so
+to say, have now assembled in council. No one knows what is coming. But
+in general I can tell you, Papa, that such a heroic spirit, the truly
+antique valor of the Russian army, which they--which it" (he corrected
+himself) "has shown or displayed in the battle of the twenty-sixth--
+there are no words worthy to do it justice! I tell you, Papa" (he smote
+himself on the breast as a general he had heard speaking had done, but
+Berg did it a trifle late for he should have struck his breast at the
+words "Russian army"), "I tell you frankly that we, the commanders, far
+from having to urge the men on or anything of that kind, could hardly
+restrain those... those... yes, those exploits of antique valor," he
+went on rapidly. "General Barclay de Tolly risked his life everywhere at
+the head of the troops, I can assure you. Our corps was stationed on a
+hillside. You can imagine!"
+
+And Berg related all that he remembered of the various tales he had
+heard those days. Natasha watched him with an intent gaze that confused
+him, as if she were trying to find in his face the answer to some
+question.
+
+"Altogether such heroism as was displayed by the Russian warriors cannot
+be imagined or adequately praised!" said Berg, glancing round at
+Natasha, and as if anxious to conciliate her, replying to her intent
+look with a smile. "'Russia is not in Moscow, she lives in the hearts of
+her sons!' Isn't it so, Papa?" said he.
+
+Just then the countess came in from the sitting room with a weary and
+dissatisfied expression. Berg hurriedly jumped up, kissed her hand,
+asked about her health, and, swaying his head from side to side to
+express sympathy, remained standing beside her.
+
+"Yes, Mamma, I tell you sincerely that these are hard and sad times for
+every Russian. But why are you so anxious? You have still time to get
+away...."
+
+"I can't think what the servants are about," said the countess, turning
+to her husband. "I have just been told that nothing is ready yet.
+Somebody after all must see to things. One misses Mitenka at such times.
+There won't be any end to it."
+
+The count was about to say something, but evidently restrained himself.
+He got up from his chair and went to the door.
+
+At that moment Berg drew out his handkerchief as if to blow his nose
+and, seeing the knot in it, pondered, shaking his head sadly and
+significantly.
+
+"And I have a great favor to ask of you, Papa," said he.
+
+"Hm..." said the count, and stopped.
+
+"I was driving past Yusupov's house just now," said Berg with a laugh,
+"when the steward, a man I know, ran out and asked me whether I wouldn't
+buy something. I went in out of curiosity, you know, and there is a
+small chiffonier and a dressing table. You know how dear Vera wanted a
+chiffonier like that and how we had a dispute about it." (At the mention
+of the chiffonier and dressing table Berg involuntarily changed his tone
+to one of pleasure at his admirable domestic arrangements.) "And it's
+such a beauty! It pulls out and has a secret English drawer, you know!
+And dear Vera has long wanted one. I wish to give her a surprise, you
+see. I saw so many of those peasant carts in your yard. Please let me
+have one, I will pay the man well, and..."
+
+The count frowned and coughed.
+
+"Ask the countess, I don't give orders."
+
+"If it's inconvenient, please don't," said Berg. "Only I so wanted it,
+for dear Vera's sake."
+
+"Oh, go to the devil, all of you! To the devil, the devil, the devil..."
+cried the old count. "My head's in a whirl!"
+
+And he left the room. The countess began to cry.
+
+"Yes, Mamma! Yes, these are very hard times!" said Berg.
+
+Natasha left the room with her father and, as if finding it difficult to
+reach some decision, first followed him and then ran downstairs.
+
+Petya was in the porch, engaged in giving out weapons to the servants
+who were to leave Moscow. The loaded carts were still standing in the
+yard. Two of them had been uncorded and a wounded officer was climbing
+into one of them helped by an orderly.
+
+"Do you know what it's about?" Petya asked Natasha.
+
+She understood that he meant what were their parents quarreling about.
+She did not answer.
+
+"It's because Papa wanted to give up all the carts to the wounded," said
+Petya. "Vasilich told me. I consider..."
+
+"I consider," Natasha suddenly almost shouted, turning her angry face to
+Petya, "I consider it so horrid, so abominable, so... I don't know what.
+Are we despicable Germans?"
+
+Her throat quivered with convulsive sobs and, afraid of weakening and
+letting the force of her anger run to waste, she turned and rushed
+headlong up the stairs.
+
+Berg was sitting beside the countess consoling her with the respectful
+attention of a relative. The count, pipe in hand, was pacing up and down
+the room, when Natasha, her face distorted by anger, burst in like a
+tempest and approached her mother with rapid steps.
+
+"It's horrid! It's abominable!" she screamed. "You can't possibly have
+ordered it!"
+
+Berg and the countess looked at her, perplexed and frightened. The count
+stood still at the window and listened.
+
+"Mamma, it's impossible: see what is going on in the yard!" she cried.
+"They will be left!..."
+
+"What's the matter with you? Who are 'they'? What do you want?"
+
+"Why, the wounded! It's impossible, Mamma. It's monstrous!... No, Mamma
+darling, it's not the thing. Please forgive me, darling.... Mamma, what
+does it matter what we take away? Only look what is going on in the
+yard... Mamma!... It's impossible!"
+
+The count stood by the window and listened without turning round.
+Suddenly he sniffed and put his face closer to the window.
+
+The countess glanced at her daughter, saw her face full of shame for her
+mother, saw her agitation, and understood why her husband did not turn
+to look at her now, and she glanced round quite disconcerted.
+
+"Oh, do as you like! Am I hindering anyone?" she said, not surrendering
+at once.
+
+"Mamma, darling, forgive me!"
+
+But the countess pushed her daughter away and went up to her husband.
+
+"My dear, you order what is right.... You know I don't understand about
+it," said she, dropping her eyes shamefacedly.
+
+"The eggs... the eggs are teaching the hen," muttered the count through
+tears of joy, and he embraced his wife who was glad to hide her look of
+shame on his breast.
+
+"Papa! Mamma! May I see to it? May I?..." asked Natasha. "We will still
+take all the most necessary things."
+
+The count nodded affirmatively, and Natasha, at the rapid pace at which
+she used to run when playing at tag, ran through the ballroom to the
+anteroom and downstairs into the yard.
+
+The servants gathered round Natasha, but could not believe the strange
+order she brought them until the count himself, in his wife's name,
+confirmed the order to give up all the carts to the wounded and take the
+trunks to the storerooms. When they understood that order the servants
+set to work at this new task with pleasure and zeal. It no longer seemed
+strange to them but on the contrary it seemed the only thing that could
+be done, just as a quarter of an hour before it had not seemed strange
+to anyone that the wounded should be left behind and the goods carted
+away but that had seemed the only thing to do.
+
+The whole household, as if to atone for not having done it sooner, set
+eagerly to work at the new task of placing the wounded in the carts. The
+wounded dragged themselves out of their rooms and stood with pale but
+happy faces round the carts. The news that carts were to be had spread
+to the neighboring houses, from which wounded men began to come into the
+Rostovs' yard. Many of the wounded asked them not to unload the carts
+but only to let them sit on the top of the things. But the work of
+unloading, once started, could not be arrested. It seemed not to matter
+whether all or only half the things were left behind. Cases full of
+china, bronzes, pictures, and mirrors that had been so carefully packed
+the night before now lay about the yard, and still they went on
+searching for and finding possibilities of unloading this or that and
+letting the wounded have another and yet another cart.
+
+"We can take four more men," said the steward. "They can have my trap,
+or else what is to become of them?"
+
+"Let them have my wardrobe cart," said the countess. "Dunyasha can go
+with me in the carriage."
+
+They unloaded the wardrobe cart and sent it to take wounded men from a
+house two doors off. The whole household, servants included, was bright
+and animated. Natasha was in a state of rapturous excitement such as she
+had not known for a long time.
+
+"What could we fasten this onto?" asked the servants, trying to fix a
+trunk on the narrow footboard behind a carriage. "We must keep at least
+one cart."
+
+"What's in it?" asked Natasha.
+
+"The count's books."
+
+"Leave it, Vasilich will put it away. It's not wanted."
+
+The phaeton was full of people and there was a doubt as to where Count
+Peter could sit.
+
+"On the box. You'll sit on the box, won't you, Petya?" cried Natasha.
+
+Sonya too was busy all this time, but the aim of her efforts was quite
+different from Natasha's. She was putting away the things that had to be
+left behind and making a list of them as the countess wished, and she
+tried to get as much taken away with them as possible.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+Before two o'clock in the afternoon the Rostovs' four carriages, packed
+full and with the horses harnessed, stood at the front door. One by one
+the carts with the wounded had moved out of the yard.
+
+The caleche in which Prince Andrew was being taken attracted Sonya's
+attention as it passed the front porch. With the help of a maid she was
+arranging a seat for the countess in the huge high coach that stood at
+the entrance.
+
+"Whose caleche is that?" she inquired, leaning out of the carriage
+window.
+
+"Why, didn't you know, Miss?" replied the maid. "The wounded prince: he
+spent the night in our house and is going with us."
+
+"But who is it? What's his name?"
+
+"It's our intended that was--Prince Bolkonski himself! They say he is
+dying," replied the maid with a sigh.
+
+Sonya jumped out of the coach and ran to the countess. The countess,
+tired out and already dressed in shawl and bonnet for her journey, was
+pacing up and down the drawing room, waiting for the household to
+assemble for the usual silent prayer with closed doors before starting.
+Natasha was not in the room.
+
+"Mamma," said Sonya, "Prince Andrew is here, mortally wounded. He is
+going with us."
+
+The countess opened her eyes in dismay and, seizing Sonya's arm, glanced
+around.
+
+"Natasha?" she murmured.
+
+At that moment this news had only one significance for both of them.
+They knew their Natasha, and alarm as to what would happen if she heard
+this news stifled all sympathy for the man they both liked.
+
+"Natasha does not know yet, but he is going with us," said Sonya.
+
+"You say he is dying?"
+
+Sonya nodded.
+
+The countess put her arms around Sonya and began to cry.
+
+"The ways of God are past finding out!" she thought, feeling that the
+Almighty Hand, hitherto unseen, was becoming manifest in all that was
+now taking place.
+
+"Well, Mamma? Everything is ready. What's the matter?" asked Natasha, as
+with animated face she ran into the room.
+
+"Nothing," answered the countess. "If everything is ready let us start."
+
+And the countess bent over her reticule to hide her agitated face. Sonya
+embraced Natasha and kissed her.
+
+Natasha looked at her inquiringly.
+
+"What is it? What has happened?"
+
+"Nothing... No..."
+
+"Is it something very bad for me? What is it?" persisted Natasha with
+her quick intuition.
+
+Sonya sighed and made no reply. The count, Petya, Madame Schoss, Mavra
+Kuzminichna, and Vasilich came into the drawing room and, having closed
+the doors, they all sat down and remained for some moments silently
+seated without looking at one another.
+
+The count was the first to rise, and with a loud sigh crossed himself
+before the icon. All the others did the same. Then the count embraced
+Mavra Kuzminichna and Vasilich, who were to remain in Moscow, and while
+they caught at his hand and kissed his shoulder he patted their backs
+lightly with some vaguely affectionate and comforting words. The
+countess went into the oratory and there Sonya found her on her knees
+before the icons that had been left here and there hanging on the wall.
+(The most precious ones, with which some family tradition was connected,
+were being taken with them.)
+
+In the porch and in the yard the men whom Petya had armed with swords
+and daggers, with trousers tucked inside their high boots and with belts
+and girdles tightened, were taking leave of those remaining behind.
+
+As is always the case at a departure, much had been forgotten or put in
+the wrong place, and for a long time two menservants stood one on each
+side of the open door and the carriage steps waiting to help the
+countess in, while maids rushed with cushions and bundles from the house
+to the carriages, the caleche, the phaeton, and back again.
+
+"They always will forget everything!" said the countess. "Don't you know
+I can't sit like that?"
+
+And Dunyasha, with clenched teeth, without replying but with an
+aggrieved look on her face, hastily got into the coach to rearrange the
+seat.
+
+"Oh, those servants!" said the count, swaying his head.
+
+Efim, the old coachman, who was the only one the countess trusted to
+drive her, sat perched up high on the box and did not so much as glance
+round at what was going on behind him. From thirty years' experience he
+knew it would be some time yet before the order, "Be off, in God's
+name!" would be given him: and he knew that even when it was said he
+would be stopped once or twice more while they sent back to fetch
+something that had been forgotten, and even after that he would again be
+stopped and the countess herself would lean out of the window and beg
+him for the love of heaven to drive carefully down the hill. He knew all
+this and therefore waited calmly for what would happen, with more
+patience than the horses, especially the near one, the chestnut Falcon,
+who was pawing the ground and champing his bit. At last all were seated,
+the carriage steps were folded and pulled up, the door was shut,
+somebody was sent for a traveling case, and the countess leaned out and
+said what she had to say. Then Efim deliberately doffed his hat and
+began crossing himself. The postilion and all the other servants did the
+same. "Off, in God's name!" said Efim, putting on his hat. "Start!" The
+postilion started the horses, the off pole horse tugged at his collar,
+the high springs creaked, and the body of the coach swayed. The footman
+sprang onto the box of the moving coach which jolted as it passed out of
+the yard onto the uneven roadway; the other vehicles jolted in their
+turn, and the procession of carriages moved up the street. In the
+carriages, the caleche, and the phaeton, all crossed themselves as they
+passed the church opposite the house. Those who were to remain in Moscow
+walked on either side of the vehicles seeing the travelers off.
+
+Rarely had Natasha experienced so joyful a feeling as now, sitting in
+the carriage beside the countess and gazing at the slowly receding walls
+of forsaken, agitated Moscow. Occasionally she leaned out of the
+carriage window and looked back and then forward at the long train of
+wounded in front of them. Almost at the head of the line she could see
+the raised hood of Prince Andrew's caleche. She did not know who was in
+it, but each time she looked at the procession her eyes sought that
+caleche. She knew it was right in front.
+
+In Kudrino, from the Nikitski, Presnya, and Podnovinsk Streets came
+several other trains of vehicles similar to the Rostovs', and as they
+passed along the Sadovaya Street the carriages and carts formed two rows
+abreast.
+
+As they were going round the Sukharev water tower Natasha, who was
+inquisitively and alertly scrutinizing the people driving or walking
+past, suddenly cried out in joyful surprise:
+
+"Dear me! Mamma, Sonya, look, it's he!"
+
+"Who? Who?"
+
+"Look! Yes, on my word, it's Bezukhov!" said Natasha, putting her head
+out of the carriage and staring at a tall, stout man in a coachman's
+long coat, who from his manner of walking and moving was evidently a
+gentleman in disguise, and who was passing under the arch of the
+Sukharev tower accompanied by a small, sallow-faced, beardless old man
+in a frieze coat.
+
+"Yes, it really is Bezukhov in a coachman's coat, with a queer-looking
+old boy. Really," said Natasha, "look, look!"
+
+"No, it's not he. How can you talk such nonsense?"
+
+"Mamma," screamed Natasha, "I'll stake my head it's he! I assure you!
+Stop, stop!" she cried to the coachman.
+
+But the coachman could not stop, for from the Meshchanski Street came
+more carts and carriages, and the Rostovs were being shouted at to move
+on and not block the way.
+
+In fact, however, though now much farther off than before, the Rostovs
+all saw Pierre--or someone extraordinarily like him--in a coachman's
+coat, going down the street with head bent and a serious face beside a
+small, beardless old man who looked like a footman. That old man noticed
+a face thrust out of the carriage window gazing at them, and
+respectfully touching Pierre's elbow said something to him and pointed
+to the carriage. Pierre, evidently engrossed in thought, could not at
+first understand him. At length when he had understood and looked in the
+direction the old man indicated, he recognized Natasha, and following
+his first impulse stepped instantly and rapidly toward the coach. But
+having taken a dozen steps he seemed to remember something and stopped.
+
+Natasha's face, leaning out of the window, beamed with quizzical
+kindliness.
+
+"Peter Kirilovich, come here! We have recognized you! This is
+wonderful!" she cried, holding out her hand to him. "What are you doing?
+Why are you like this?"
+
+Pierre took her outstretched hand and kissed it awkwardly as he walked
+along beside her while the coach still moved on.
+
+"What is the matter, Count?" asked the countess in a surprised and
+commiserating tone.
+
+"What? What? Why? Don't ask me," said Pierre, and looked round at
+Natasha whose radiant, happy expression--of which he was conscious
+without looking at her--filled him with enchantment.
+
+"Are you remaining in Moscow, then?"
+
+Pierre hesitated.
+
+"In Moscow?" he said in a questioning tone. "Yes, in Moscow. Good-bye!"
+
+"Ah, if only I were a man! I'd certainly stay with you. How splendid!"
+said Natasha. "Mamma, if you'll let me, I'll stay!"
+
+Pierre glanced absently at Natasha and was about to say something, but
+the countess interrupted him.
+
+"You were at the battle, we heard."
+
+"Yes, I was," Pierre answered. "There will be another battle
+tomorrow..." he began, but Natasha interrupted him.
+
+"But what is the matter with you, Count? You are not like yourself...."
+
+"Oh, don't ask me, don't ask me! I don't know myself. Tomorrow... But
+no! Good-bye, good-by!" he muttered. "It's an awful time!" and dropping
+behind the carriage he stepped onto the pavement.
+
+Natasha continued to lean out of the window for a long time, beaming at
+him with her kindly, slightly quizzical, happy smile.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+For the last two days, ever since leaving home, Pierre had been living
+in the empty house of his deceased benefactor, Bazdeev. This is how it
+happened.
+
+When he woke up on the morning after his return to Moscow and his
+interview with Count Rostopchin, he could not for some time make out
+where he was and what was expected of him. When he was informed that
+among others awaiting him in his reception room there was a Frenchman
+who had brought a letter from his wife, the Countess Helene, he felt
+suddenly overcome by that sense of confusion and hopelessness to which
+he was apt to succumb. He felt that everything was now at an end, all
+was in confusion and crumbling to pieces, that nobody was right or
+wrong, the future held nothing, and there was no escape from this
+position. Smiling unnaturally and muttering to himself, he first sat
+down on the sofa in an attitude of despair, then rose, went to the door
+of the reception room and peeped through the crack, returned flourishing
+his arms, and took up a book. His major-domo came in a second time to
+say that the Frenchman who had brought the letter from the countess was
+very anxious to see him if only for a minute, and that someone from
+Bazdeev's widow had called to ask Pierre to take charge of her husband's
+books, as she herself was leaving for the country.
+
+"Oh, yes, in a minute; wait... or no! No, of course... go and say I will
+come directly," Pierre replied to the major-domo.
+
+But as soon as the man had left the room Pierre took up his hat which
+was lying on the table and went out of his study by the other door.
+There was no one in the passage. He went along the whole length of this
+passage to the stairs and, frowning and rubbing his forehead with both
+hands, went down as far as the first landing. The hall porter was
+standing at the front door. From the landing where Pierre stood there
+was a second staircase leading to the back entrance. He went down that
+staircase and out into the yard. No one had seen him. But there were
+some carriages waiting, and as soon as Pierre stepped out of the gate
+the coachmen and the yard porter noticed him and raised their caps to
+him. When he felt he was being looked at he behaved like an ostrich
+which hides its head in a bush in order not to be seen: he hung his head
+and quickening his pace went down the street.
+
+Of all the affairs awaiting Pierre that day the sorting of Joseph
+Bazdeev's books and papers appeared to him the most necessary.
+
+He hired the first cab he met and told the driver to go to the
+Patriarch's Ponds, where the widow Bazdeev's house was.
+
+Continually turning round to look at the rows of loaded carts that were
+making their way from all sides out of Moscow, and balancing his bulky
+body so as not to slip out of the ramshackle old vehicle, Pierre,
+experiencing the joyful feeling of a boy escaping from school, began to
+talk to his driver.
+
+The man told him that arms were being distributed today at the Kremlin
+and that tomorrow everyone would be sent out beyond the Three Hills
+gates and a great battle would be fought there.
+
+Having reached the Patriarch's Ponds Pierre found the Bazdeevs' house,
+where he had not been for a long time past. He went up to the gate.
+Gerasim, that sallow beardless old man Pierre had seen at Torzhok five
+years before with Joseph Bazdeev, came out in answer to his knock.
+
+"At home?" asked Pierre.
+
+"Owing to the present state of things Sophia Danilovna has gone to the
+Torzhok estate with the children, your excellency."
+
+"I will come in all the same, I have to look through the books," said
+Pierre.
+
+"Be so good as to step in. Makar Alexeevich, the brother of my late
+master--may the kingdom of heaven be his--has remained here, but he is
+in a weak state as you know," said the old servant.
+
+Pierre knew that Makar Alexeevich was Joseph Bazdeev's half-insane
+brother and a hard drinker.
+
+"Yes, yes, I know. Let us go in..." said Pierre and entered the house.
+
+A tall, bald-headed old man with a red nose, wearing a dressing gown and
+with galoshes on his bare feet, stood in the anteroom. On seeing Pierre
+he muttered something angrily and went away along the passage.
+
+"He was a very clever man but has now grown quite feeble, as your honor
+sees," said Gerasim. "Will you step into the study?" Pierre nodded. "As
+it was sealed up so it has remained, but Sophia Danilovna gave orders
+that if anyone should come from you they were to have the books."
+
+Pierre went into that gloomy study which he had entered with such
+trepidation in his benefactor's lifetime. The room, dusty and untouched
+since the death of Joseph Bazdeev was now even gloomier.
+
+Gerasim opened one of the shutters and left the room on tiptoe. Pierre
+went round the study, approached the cupboard in which the manuscripts
+were kept, and took out what had once been one of the most important,
+the holy of holies of the order. This was the authentic Scotch Acts with
+Bazdeev's notes and explanations. He sat down at the dusty writing
+table, and, having laid the manuscripts before him, opened them out,
+closed them, finally pushed them away, and resting his head on his hand
+sank into meditation.
+
+Gerasim looked cautiously into the study several times and saw Pierre
+always sitting in the same attitude.
+
+More than two hours passed and Gerasim took the liberty of making a
+slight noise at the door to attract his attention, but Pierre did not
+hear him.
+
+"Is the cabman to be discharged, your honor?"
+
+"Oh yes!" said Pierre, rousing himself and rising hurriedly. "Look
+here," he added, taking Gerasim by a button of his coat and looking down
+at the old man with moist, shining, and ecstatic eyes, "I say, do you
+know that there is going to be a battle tomorrow?"
+
+"We heard so," replied the man.
+
+"I beg you not to tell anyone who I am, and to do what I ask you."
+
+"Yes, your excellency," replied Gerasim. "Will you have something to
+eat?"
+
+"No, but I want something else. I want peasant clothes and a pistol,"
+said Pierre, unexpectedly blushing.
+
+"Yes, your excellency," said Gerasim after thinking for a moment.
+
+All the rest of that day Pierre spent alone in his benefactor's study,
+and Gerasim heard him pacing restlessly from one corner to another and
+talking to himself. And he spent the night on a bed made up for him
+there.
+
+Gerasim, being a servant who in his time had seen many strange things,
+accepted Pierre's taking up his residence in the house without surprise,
+and seemed pleased to have someone to wait on. That same evening--
+without even asking himself what they were wanted for--he procured a
+coachman's coat and cap for Pierre, and promised to get him the pistol
+next day. Makar Alexeevich came twice that evening shuffling along in
+his galoshes as far as the door and stopped and looked ingratiatingly at
+Pierre. But as soon as Pierre turned toward him he wrapped his dressing
+gown around him with a shamefaced and angry look and hurried away. It
+was when Pierre (wearing the coachman's coat which Gerasim had procured
+for him and had disinfected by steam) was on his way with the old man to
+buy the pistol at the Sukharev market that he met the Rostovs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+Kutuzov's order to retreat through Moscow to the Ryazan road was issued
+at night on the first of September.
+
+The first troops started at once, and during the night they marched
+slowly and steadily without hurry. At daybreak, however, those nearing
+the town at the Dorogomilov bridge saw ahead of them masses of soldiers
+crowding and hurrying across the bridge, ascending on the opposite side
+and blocking the streets and alleys, while endless masses of troops were
+bearing down on them from behind, and an unreasoning hurry and alarm
+overcame them. They all rushed forward to the bridge, onto it, and to
+the fords and the boats. Kutuzov himself had driven round by side
+streets to the other side of Moscow.
+
+By ten o'clock in the morning of the second of September, only the rear
+guard remained in the Dorogomilov suburb, where they had ample room. The
+main army was on the other side of Moscow or beyond it.
+
+At that very time, at ten in the morning of the second of September,
+Napoleon was standing among his troops on the Poklonny Hill looking at
+the panorama spread out before him. From the twenty-sixth of August to
+the second of September, that is from the battle of Borodino to the
+entry of the French into Moscow, during the whole of that agitating,
+memorable week, there had been the extraordinary autumn weather that
+always comes as a surprise, when the sun hangs low and gives more heat
+than in spring, when everything shines so brightly in the rare clear
+atmosphere that the eyes smart, when the lungs are strengthened and
+refreshed by inhaling the aromatic autumn air, when even the nights are
+warm, and when in those dark warm nights, golden stars startle and
+delight us continually by falling from the sky.
+
+At ten in the morning of the second of September this weather still
+held.
+
+The brightness of the morning was magical. Moscow seen from the Poklonny
+Hill lay spaciously spread out with her river, her gardens, and her
+churches, and she seemed to be living her usual life, her cupolas
+glittering like stars in the sunlight.
+
+The view of the strange city with its peculiar architecture, such as he
+had never seen before, filled Napoleon with the rather envious and
+uneasy curiosity men feel when they see an alien form of life that has
+no knowledge of them. This city was evidently living with the full force
+of its own life. By the indefinite signs which, even at a distance,
+distinguish a living body from a dead one, Napoleon from the Poklonny
+Hill perceived the throb of life in the town and felt, as it were, the
+breathing of that great and beautiful body.
+
+Every Russian looking at Moscow feels her to be a mother; every
+foreigner who sees her, even if ignorant of her significance as the
+mother city, must feel her feminine character, and Napoleon felt it.
+
+"Cette ville asiatique aux innombrables eglises, Moscou la sainte. La
+voila done enfin, cette fameuse ville! Il etait temps," * said he, and
+dismounting he ordered a plan of Moscow to be spread out before him, and
+summoned Lelorgne d'Ideville, the interpreter.
+
+
+* "That Asiatic city of the innumerable churches, holy Moscow! Here it
+is then at last, that famous city. It was high time."
+
+"A town captured by the enemy is like a maid who has lost her honor,"
+thought he (he had said so to Tuchkov at Smolensk). From that point of
+view he gazed at the Oriental beauty he had not seen before. It seemed
+strange to him that his long-felt wish, which had seemed unattainable,
+had at last been realized. In the clear morning light he gazed now at
+the city and now at the plan, considering its details, and the assurance
+of possessing it agitated and awed him.
+
+"But could it be otherwise?" he thought. "Here is this capital at my
+feet. Where is Alexander now, and of what is he thinking? A strange,
+beautiful, and majestic city; and a strange and majestic moment! In what
+light must I appear to them!" thought he, thinking of his troops. "Here
+she is, the reward for all those fainthearted men," he reflected,
+glancing at those near him and at the troops who were approaching and
+forming up. "One word from me, one movement of my hand, and that ancient
+capital of the Tsars would perish. But my clemency is always ready to
+descend upon the vanquished. I must be magnanimous and truly great. But
+no, it can't be true that I am in Moscow," he suddenly thought. "Yet
+here she is lying at my feet, with her golden domes and crosses
+scintillating and twinkling in the sunshine. But I shall spare her. On
+the ancient monuments of barbarism and despotism I will inscribe great
+words of justice and mercy.... It is just this which Alexander will feel
+most painfully, I know him." (It seemed to Napoleon that the chief
+import of what was taking place lay in the personal struggle between
+himself and Alexander.) "From the height of the Kremlin--yes, there is
+the Kremlin, yes--I will give them just laws; I will teach them the
+meaning of true civilization, I will make generations of boyars remember
+their conqueror with love. I will tell the deputation that I did not,
+and do not, desire war, that I have waged war only against the false
+policy of their court; that I love and respect Alexander and that in
+Moscow I will accept terms of peace worthy of myself and of my people. I
+do not wish to utilize the fortunes of war to humiliate an honored
+monarch. 'Boyars,' I will say to them, 'I do not desire war, I desire
+the peace and welfare of all my subjects.' However, I know their
+presence will inspire me, and I shall speak to them as I always do:
+clearly, impressively, and majestically. But can it be true that I am in
+Moscow? Yes, there she lies."
+
+"Qu'on m'amene les boyars," * said he to his suite.
+
+
+* "Bring the boyars to me."
+
+A general with a brilliant suite galloped off at once to fetch the
+boyars.
+
+Two hours passed. Napoleon had lunched and was again standing in the
+same place on the Poklonny Hill awaiting the deputation. His speech to
+the boyars had already taken definite shape in his imagination. That
+speech was full of dignity and greatness as Napoleon understood it.
+
+He was himself carried away by the tone of magnanimity he intended to
+adopt toward Moscow. In his imagination he appointed days for assemblies
+at the palace of the Tsars, at which Russian notables and his own would
+mingle. He mentally appointed a governor, one who would win the hearts
+of the people. Having learned that there were many charitable
+institutions in Moscow he mentally decided that he would shower favors
+on them all. He thought that, as in Africa he had to put on a burnoose
+and sit in a mosque, so in Moscow he must be beneficent like the Tsars.
+And in order finally to touch the hearts of the Russians--and being like
+all Frenchmen unable to imagine anything sentimental without a reference
+to ma chere, ma tendre, ma pauvre mere * --he decided that he would
+place an inscription on all these establishments in large letters: "This
+establishment is dedicated to my dear mother." Or no, it should be
+simply: Maison de ma Mere, *(2) he concluded. "But am I really in
+Moscow? Yes, here it lies before me, but why is the deputation from the
+city so long in appearing?" he wondered.
+
+
+* "My dear, my tender, my poor mother."
+
+* (2) "House of my Mother."
+
+Meanwhile an agitated consultation was being carried on in whispers
+among his generals and marshals at the rear of his suite. Those sent to
+fetch the deputation had returned with the news that Moscow was empty,
+that everyone had left it. The faces of those who were not conferring
+together were pale and perturbed. They were not alarmed by the fact that
+Moscow had been abandoned by its inhabitants (grave as that fact
+seemed), but by the question how to tell the Emperor--without putting
+him in the terrible position of appearing ridiculous--that he had been
+awaiting the boyars so long in vain: that there were drunken mobs left
+in Moscow but no one else. Some said that a deputation of some sort must
+be scraped together, others disputed that opinion and maintained that
+the Emperor should first be carefully and skillfully prepared, and then
+told the truth.
+
+"He will have to be told, all the same," said some gentlemen of the
+suite. "But, gentlemen..."
+
+The position was the more awkward because the Emperor, meditating upon
+his magnanimous plans, was pacing patiently up and down before the
+outspread map, occasionally glancing along the road to Moscow from under
+his lifted hand with a bright and proud smile.
+
+"But it's impossible..." declared the gentlemen of the suite, shrugging
+their shoulders but not venturing to utter the implied word--le
+ridicule...
+
+At last the Emperor, tired of futile expectation, his actor's instinct
+suggesting to him that the sublime moment having been too long drawn out
+was beginning to lose its sublimity, gave a sign with his hand. A single
+report of a signaling gun followed, and the troops, who were already
+spread out on different sides of Moscow, moved into the city through
+Tver, Kaluga, and Dorogomilov gates. Faster and faster, vying with one
+another, they moved at the double or at a trot, vanishing amid the
+clouds of dust they raised and making the air ring with a deafening roar
+of mingling shouts.
+
+Drawn on by the movement of his troops Napoleon rode with them as far as
+the Dorogomilov gate, but there again stopped and, dismounting from his
+horse, paced for a long time by the Kammer-Kollezski rampart, awaiting
+the deputation.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+Meanwhile Moscow was empty. There were still people in it, perhaps a
+fiftieth part of its former inhabitants had remained, but it was empty.
+It was empty in the sense that a dying queenless hive is empty.
+
+In a queenless hive no life is left though to a superficial glance it
+seems as much alive as other hives.
+
+The bees circle round a queenless hive in the hot beams of the midday
+sun as gaily as around the living hives; from a distance it smells of
+honey like the others, and bees fly in and out in the same way. But one
+has only to observe that hive to realize that there is no longer any
+life in it. The bees do not fly in the same way, the smell and the sound
+that meet the beekeeper are not the same. To the beekeeper's tap on the
+wall of the sick hive, instead of the former instant unanimous humming
+of tens of thousands of bees with their abdomens threateningly
+compressed, and producing by the rapid vibration of their wings an
+aerial living sound, the only reply is a disconnected buzzing from
+different parts of the deserted hive. From the alighting board, instead
+of the former spirituous fragrant smell of honey and venom, and the warm
+whiffs of crowded life, comes an odor of emptiness and decay mingling
+with the smell of honey. There are no longer sentinels sounding the
+alarm with their abdomens raised, and ready to die in defense of the
+hive. There is no longer the measured quiet sound of throbbing activity,
+like the sound of boiling water, but diverse discordant sounds of
+disorder. In and out of the hive long black robber bees smeared with
+honey fly timidly and shiftily. They do not sting, but crawl away from
+danger. Formerly only bees laden with honey flew into the hive, and they
+flew out empty; now they fly out laden. The beekeeper opens the lower
+part of the hive and peers in. Instead of black, glossy bees--tamed by
+toil, clinging to one another's legs and drawing out the wax, with a
+ceaseless hum of labor--that used to hang in long clusters down to the
+floor of the hive, drowsy shriveled bees crawl about separately in
+various directions on the floor and walls of the hive. Instead of a
+neatly glued floor, swept by the bees with the fanning of their wings,
+there is a floor littered with bits of wax, excrement, dying bees
+scarcely moving their legs, and dead ones that have not been cleared
+away.
+
+The beekeeper opens the upper part of the hive and examines the super.
+Instead of serried rows of bees sealing up every gap in the combs and
+keeping the brood warm, he sees the skillful complex structures of the
+combs, but no longer in their former state of purity. All is neglected
+and foul. Black robber bees are swiftly and stealthily prowling about
+the combs, and the short home bees, shriveled and listless as if they
+were old, creep slowly about without trying to hinder the robbers,
+having lost all motive and all sense of life. Drones, bumblebees, wasps,
+and butterflies knock awkwardly against the walls of the hive in their
+flight. Here and there among the cells containing dead brood and honey
+an angry buzzing can sometimes be heard. Here and there a couple of
+bees, by force of habit and custom cleaning out the brood cells, with
+efforts beyond their strength laboriously drag away a dead bee or
+bumblebee without knowing why they do it. In another corner two old bees
+are languidly fighting, or cleaning themselves, or feeding one another,
+without themselves knowing whether they do it with friendly or hostile
+intent. In a third place a crowd of bees, crushing one another, attack
+some victim and fight and smother it, and the victim, enfeebled or
+killed, drops from above slowly and lightly as a feather, among the heap
+of corpses. The keeper opens the two center partitions to examine the
+brood cells. In place of the former close dark circles formed by
+thousands of bees sitting back to back and guarding the high mystery of
+generation, he sees hundreds of dull, listless, and sleepy shells of
+bees. They have almost all died unawares, sitting in the sanctuary they
+had guarded and which is now no more. They reek of decay and death. Only
+a few of them still move, rise, and feebly fly to settle on the enemy's
+hand, lacking the spirit to die stinging him; the rest are dead and fall
+as lightly as fish scales. The beekeeper closes the hive, chalks a mark
+on it, and when he has time tears out its contents and burns it clean.
+
+So in the same way Moscow was empty when Napoleon, weary, uneasy, and
+morose, paced up and down in front of the Kammer-Kollezski rampart,
+awaiting what to his mind was a necessary, if but formal, observance of
+the proprieties--a deputation.
+
+In various corners of Moscow there still remained a few people aimlessly
+moving about, following their old habits and hardly aware of what they
+were doing.
+
+When with due circumspection Napoleon was informed that Moscow was
+empty, he looked angrily at his informant, turned away, and silently
+continued to walk to and fro.
+
+"My carriage!" he said.
+
+He took his seat beside the aide-de-camp on duty and drove into the
+suburb. "Moscow deserted!" he said to himself. "What an incredible
+event!"
+
+He did not drive into the town, but put up at an inn in the Dorogomilov
+suburb.
+
+The coup de theatre had not come off.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+The Russian troops were passing through Moscow from two o'clock at night
+till two in the afternoon and bore away with them the wounded and the
+last of the inhabitants who were leaving.
+
+The greatest crush during the movement of the troops took place at the
+Stone, Moskva, and Yauza bridges.
+
+While the troops, dividing into two parts when passing around the
+Kremlin, were thronging the Moskva and the Stone bridges, a great many
+soldiers, taking advantage of the stoppage and congestion, turned back
+from the bridges and slipped stealthily and silently past the church of
+Vasili the Beatified and under the Borovitski gate, back up the hill to
+the Red Square where some instinct told them they could easily take
+things not belonging to them. Crowds of the kind seen at cheap sales
+filled all the passages and alleys of the Bazaar. But there were no
+dealers with voices of ingratiating affability inviting customers to
+enter; there were no hawkers, nor the usual motley crowd of female
+purchasers--but only soldiers, in uniforms and overcoats though without
+muskets, entering the Bazaar empty-handed and silently making their way
+out through its passages with bundles. Tradesmen and their assistants
+(of whom there were but few) moved about among the soldiers quite
+bewildered. They unlocked their shops and locked them up again, and
+themselves carried goods away with the help of their assistants. On the
+square in front of the Bazaar were drummers beating the muster call. But
+the roll of the drums did not make the looting soldiers run in the
+direction of the drum as formerly, but made them, on the contrary, run
+farther away. Among the soldiers in the shops and passages some men were
+to be seen in gray coats, with closely shaven heads. Two officers, one
+with a scarf over his uniform and mounted on a lean, dark-gray horse,
+the other in an overcoat and on foot, stood at the corner of Ilyinka
+Street, talking. A third officer galloped up to them.
+
+"The general orders them all to be driven out at once, without fail.
+This is outrageous! Half the men have dispersed."
+
+"Where are you off to?... Where?..." he shouted to three infantrymen
+without muskets who, holding up the skirts of their overcoats, were
+slipping past him into the Bazaar passage. "Stop, you rascals!"
+
+"But how are you going to stop them?" replied another officer. "There is
+no getting them together. The army should push on before the rest bolt,
+that's all!"
+
+"How can one push on? They are stuck there, wedged on the bridge, and
+don't move. Shouldn't we put a cordon round to prevent the rest from
+running away?"
+
+"Come, go in there and drive them out!" shouted the senior officer.
+
+The officer in the scarf dismounted, called up a drummer, and went with
+him into the arcade. Some soldiers started running away in a group. A
+shopkeeper with red pimples on his cheeks near the nose, and a calm,
+persistent, calculating expression on his plump face, hurriedly and
+ostentatiously approached the officer, swinging his arms.
+
+"Your honor!" said he. "Be so good as to protect us! We won't grudge
+trifles, you are welcome to anything--we shall be delighted! Pray!...
+I'll fetch a piece of cloth at once for such an honorable gentleman, or
+even two pieces with pleasure. For we feel how it is; but what's all
+this--sheer robbery! If you please, could not guards be placed if only
+to let us close the shop...."
+
+Several shopkeepers crowded round the officer.
+
+"Eh, what twaddle!" said one of them, a thin, stern-looking man. "When
+one's head is gone one doesn't weep for one's hair! Take what any of you
+like!" And flourishing his arm energetically he turned sideways to the
+officer.
+
+"It's all very well for you, Ivan Sidorych, to talk," said the first
+tradesman angrily. "Please step inside, your honor!"
+
+"Talk indeed!" cried the thin one. "In my three shops here I have a
+hundred thousand rubles' worth of goods. Can they be saved when the army
+has gone? Eh, what people! 'Against God's might our hands can't fight.'"
+
+"Come inside, your honor!" repeated the tradesman, bowing.
+
+The officer stood perplexed and his face showed indecision.
+
+"It's not my business!" he exclaimed, and strode on quickly down one of
+the passages.
+
+From one open shop came the sound of blows and vituperation, and just as
+the officer came up to it a man in a gray coat with a shaven head was
+flung out violently.
+
+This man, bent double, rushed past the tradesman and the officer. The
+officer pounced on the soldiers who were in the shops, but at that
+moment fearful screams reached them from the huge crowd on the Moskva
+bridge and the officer ran out into the square.
+
+"What is it? What is it?" he asked, but his comrade was already
+galloping off past Vasili the Beatified in the direction from which the
+screams came.
+
+The officer mounted his horse and rode after him. When he reached the
+bridge he saw two unlimbered guns, the infantry crossing the bridge,
+several overturned carts, and frightened and laughing faces among the
+troops. Beside the cannon a cart was standing to which two horses were
+harnessed. Four borzois with collars were pressing close to the wheels.
+The cart was loaded high, and at the very top, beside a child's chair
+with its legs in the air, sat a peasant woman uttering piercing and
+desperate shrieks. He was told by his fellow officers that the screams
+of the crowd and the shrieks of the woman were due to the fact that
+General Ermolov, coming up to the crowd and learning that soldiers were
+dispersing among the shops while crowds of civilians blocked the bridge,
+had ordered two guns to be unlimbered and made a show of firing at the
+bridge. The crowd, crushing one another, upsetting carts, and shouting
+and squeezing desperately, had cleared off the bridge and the troops
+were now moving forward.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+Meanwhile, the city itself was deserted. There was hardly anyone in the
+streets. The gates and shops were all closed, only here and there round
+the taverns solitary shouts or drunken songs could be heard. Nobody
+drove through the streets and footsteps were rarely heard. The
+Povarskaya was quite still and deserted. The huge courtyard of the
+Rostovs' house was littered with wisps of hay and with dung from the
+horses, and not a soul was to be seen there. In the great drawing room
+of the house, which had been left with all it contained, were two
+people. They were the yard porter Ignat, and the page boy Mishka,
+Vasilich's grandson who had stayed in Moscow with his grandfather.
+Mishka had opened the clavichord and was strumming on it with one
+finger. The yard porter, his arms akimbo, stood smiling with
+satisfaction before the large mirror.
+
+"Isn't it fine, eh, Uncle Ignat?" said the boy, suddenly beginning to
+strike the keyboard with both hands.
+
+"Only fancy!" answered Ignat, surprised at the broadening grin on his
+face in the mirror.
+
+"Impudence! Impudence!" they heard behind them the voice of Mavra
+Kuzminichna who had entered silently. "How he's grinning, the fat mug!
+Is that what you're here for? Nothing's cleared away down there and
+Vasilich is worn out. Just you wait a bit!"
+
+Ignat left off smiling, adjusted his belt, and went out of the room with
+meekly downcast eyes.
+
+"Aunt, I did it gently," said the boy.
+
+"I'll give you something gently, you monkey you!" cried Mavra
+Kuzminichna, raising her arm threateningly. "Go and get the samovar to
+boil for your grandfather."
+
+Mavra Kuzminichna flicked the dust off the clavichord and closed it, and
+with a deep sigh left the drawing room and locked its main door.
+
+Going out into the yard she paused to consider where she should go next-
+-to drink tea in the servants' wing with Vasilich, or into the storeroom
+to put away what still lay about.
+
+She heard the sound of quick footsteps in the quiet street. Someone
+stopped at the gate, and the latch rattled as someone tried to open it.
+Mavra Kuzminichna went to the gate.
+
+"Who do you want?"
+
+"The count--Count Ilya Andreevich Rostov."
+
+"And who are you?"
+
+"An officer, I have to see him," came the reply in a pleasant, well-bred
+Russian voice.
+
+Mavra Kuzminichna opened the gate and an officer of eighteen, with the
+round face of a Rostov, entered the yard.
+
+"They have gone away, sir. Went away yesterday at vespertime," said
+Mavra Kuzminichna cordially.
+
+The young officer standing in the gateway, as if hesitating whether to
+enter or not, clicked his tongue.
+
+"Ah, how annoying!" he muttered. "I should have come yesterday.... Ah,
+what a pity."
+
+Meanwhile, Mavra Kuzminichna was attentively and sympathetically
+examining the familiar Rostov features of the young man's face, his
+tattered coat and trodden-down boots.
+
+"What did you want to see the count for?" she asked.
+
+"Oh well... it can't be helped!" said he in a tone of vexation and
+placed his hand on the gate as if to leave.
+
+He again paused in indecision.
+
+"You see," he suddenly said, "I am a kinsman of the count's and he has
+been very kind to me. As you see" (he glanced with an amused air and
+good-natured smile at his coat and boots) "my things are worn out and I
+have no money, so I was going to ask the count..."
+
+Mavra Kuzminichna did not let him finish.
+
+"Just wait a minute, sir. One little moment," said she.
+
+And as soon as the officer let go of the gate handle she turned and,
+hurrying away on her old legs, went through the back yard to the
+servants' quarters.
+
+While Mavra Kuzminichna was running to her room the officer walked about
+the yard gazing at his worn-out boots with lowered head and a faint
+smile on his lips. "What a pity I've missed Uncle! What a nice old
+woman! Where has she run off to? And how am I to find the nearest way to
+overtake my regiment, which must by now be getting near the Rogozhski
+gate?" thought he. Just then Mavra Kuzminichna appeared from behind the
+corner of the house with a frightened yet resolute look, carrying a
+rolled-up check kerchief in her hand. While still a few steps from the
+officer she unfolded the kerchief and took out of it a white twenty-
+five-ruble assignat and hastily handed it to him.
+
+"If his excellency had been at home, as a kinsman he would of course...
+but as it is..."
+
+Mavra Kuzminichna grew abashed and confused. The officer did not
+decline, but took the note quietly and thanked her.
+
+"If the count had been at home..." Mavra Kuzminichna went on
+apologetically. "Christ be with you, sir! May God preserve you!" said
+she, bowing as she saw him out.
+
+Swaying his head and smiling as if amused at himself, the officer ran
+almost at a trot through the deserted streets toward the Yauza bridge to
+overtake his regiment.
+
+But Mavra Kuzminichna stood at the closed gate for some time with moist
+eyes, pensively swaying her head and feeling an unexpected flow of
+motherly tenderness and pity for the unknown young officer.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+From an unfinished house on the Varvarka, the ground floor of which was
+a dramshop, came drunken shouts and songs. On benches round the tables
+in a dirty little room sat some ten factory hands. Tipsy and perspiring,
+with dim eyes and wide-open mouths, they were all laboriously singing
+some song or other. They were singing discordantly, arduously, and with
+great effort, evidently not because they wished to sing, but because
+they wanted to show they were drunk and on a spree. One, a tall, fair-
+haired lad in a clean blue coat, was standing over the others. His face
+with its fine straight nose would have been handsome had it not been for
+his thin, compressed, twitching lips and dull, gloomy, fixed eyes.
+Evidently possessed by some idea, he stood over those who were singing,
+and solemnly and jerkily flourished above their heads his white arm with
+the sleeve turned up to the elbow, trying unnaturally to spread out his
+dirty fingers. The sleeve of his coat kept slipping down and he always
+carefully rolled it up again with his left hand, as if it were most
+important that the sinewy white arm he was flourishing should be bare.
+In the midst of the song cries were heard, and fighting and blows in the
+passage and porch. The tall lad waved his arm.
+
+"Stop it!" he exclaimed peremptorily. "There's a fight, lads!" And,
+still rolling up his sleeve, he went out to the porch.
+
+The factory hands followed him. These men, who under the leadership of
+the tall lad were drinking in the dramshop that morning, had brought the
+publican some skins from the factory and for this had had drink served
+them. The blacksmiths from a neighboring smithy, hearing the sounds of
+revelry in the tavern and supposing it to have been broken into, wished
+to force their way in too and a fight in the porch had resulted.
+
+The publican was fighting one of the smiths at the door, and when the
+workmen came out the smith, wrenching himself free from the tavern
+keeper, fell face downward on the pavement.
+
+Another smith tried to enter the doorway, pressing against the publican
+with his chest.
+
+The lad with the turned-up sleeve gave the smith a blow in the face and
+cried wildly: "They're fighting us, lads!"
+
+At that moment the first smith got up and, scratching his bruised face
+to make it bleed, shouted in a tearful voice: "Police! Murder!...
+They've killed a man, lads!"
+
+"Oh, gracious me, a man beaten to death--killed!..." screamed a woman
+coming out of a gate close by.
+
+A crowd gathered round the bloodstained smith.
+
+"Haven't you robbed people enough--taking their last shirts?" said a
+voice addressing the publican. "What have you killed a man for, you
+thief?"
+
+The tall lad, standing in the porch, turned his bleared eyes from the
+publican to the smith and back again as if considering whom he ought to
+fight now.
+
+"Murderer!" he shouted suddenly to the publican. "Bind him, lads!"
+
+"I daresay you would like to bind me!" shouted the publican, pushing
+away the men advancing on him, and snatching his cap from his head he
+flung it on the ground.
+
+As if this action had some mysterious and menacing significance, the
+workmen surrounding the publican paused in indecision.
+
+"I know the law very well, mates! I'll take the matter to the captain of
+police. You think I won't get to him? Robbery is not permitted to
+anybody now a days!" shouted the publican, picking up his cap.
+
+"Come along then! Come along then!" the publican and the tall young
+fellow repeated one after the other, and they moved up the street
+together.
+
+The bloodstained smith went beside them. The factory hands and others
+followed behind, talking and shouting.
+
+At the corner of the Moroseyka, opposite a large house with closed
+shutters and bearing a bootmaker's signboard, stood a score of thin,
+worn-out, gloomy-faced bootmakers, wearing overalls and long tattered
+coats.
+
+"He should pay folks off properly," a thin workingman, with frowning
+brows and a straggly beard, was saying.
+
+"But he's sucked our blood and now he thinks he's quit of us. He's been
+misleading us all the week and now that he's brought us to this pass
+he's made off."
+
+On seeing the crowd and the bloodstained man the workman ceased
+speaking, and with eager curiosity all the bootmakers joined the moving
+crowd.
+
+"Where are all the folks going?"
+
+"Why, to the police, of course!"
+
+"I say, is it true that we have been beaten?" "And what did you think?
+Look what folks are saying."
+
+Questions and answers were heard. The publican, taking advantage of the
+increased crowd, dropped behind and returned to his tavern.
+
+The tall youth, not noticing the disappearance of his foe, waved his
+bare arm and went on talking incessantly, attracting general attention
+to himself. It was around him that the people chiefly crowded, expecting
+answers from him to the questions that occupied all their minds.
+
+"He must keep order, keep the law, that's what the government is there
+for. Am I not right, good Christians?" said the tall youth, with a
+scarcely perceptible smile. "He thinks there's no government! How can
+one do without government? Or else there would be plenty who'd rob us."
+
+"Why talk nonsense?" rejoined voices in the crowd. "Will they give up
+Moscow like this? They told you that for fun, and you believed it!
+Aren't there plenty of troops on the march? Let him in, indeed! That's
+what the government is for. You'd better listen to what people are
+saying," said some of the mob pointing to the tall youth.
+
+By the wall of China-Town a smaller group of people were gathered round
+a man in a frieze coat who held a paper in his hand.
+
+"An ukase, they are reading an ukase! Reading an ukase!" cried voices in
+the crowd, and the people rushed toward the reader.
+
+The man in the frieze coat was reading the broadsheet of August 31. When
+the crowd collected round him he seemed confused, but at the demand of
+the tall lad who had pushed his way up to him, he began in a rather
+tremulous voice to read the sheet from the beginning.
+
+"Early tomorrow I shall go to his Serene Highness," he read ("Sirin
+Highness," said the tall fellow with a triumphant smile on his lips and
+a frown on his brow), "to consult with him to act, and to aid the army
+to exterminate these scoundrels. We too will take part..." the reader
+went on, and then paused ("Do you see," shouted the youth victoriously,
+"he's going to clear up the whole affair for you...."), "in destroying
+them, and will send these visitors to the devil. I will come back to
+dinner, and we'll set to work. We will do, completely do, and undo these
+scoundrels."
+
+The last words were read out in the midst of complete silence. The tall
+lad hung his head gloomily. It was evident that no one had understood
+the last part. In particular, the words "I will come back to dinner,"
+evidently displeased both reader and audience. The people's minds were
+tuned to a high pitch and this was too simple and needlessly
+comprehensible--it was what any one of them might have said and
+therefore was what an ukase emanating from the highest authority should
+not say.
+
+They all stood despondent and silent. The tall youth moved his lips and
+swayed from side to side.
+
+"We should ask him... that's he himself?"... "Yes, ask him indeed!...
+Why not? He'll explain"... voices in the rear of the crowd were suddenly
+heard saying, and the general attention turned to the police
+superintendent's trap which drove into the square attended by two
+mounted dragoons.
+
+The superintendent of police, who had gone that morning by Count
+Rostopchin's orders to burn the barges and had in connection with that
+matter acquired a large sum of money which was at that moment in his
+pocket, on seeing a crowd bearing down upon him told his coachman to
+stop.
+
+"What people are these?" he shouted to the men, who were moving singly
+and timidly in the direction of his trap.
+
+"What people are these?" he shouted again, receiving no answer.
+
+"Your honor..." replied the shopman in the frieze coat, "your honor, in
+accord with the proclamation of his highest excellency the count, they
+desire to serve, not sparing their lives, and it is not any kind of
+riot, but as his highest excellence said..."
+
+"The count has not left, he is here, and an order will be issued
+concerning you," said the superintendent of police. "Go on!" he ordered
+his coachman.
+
+The crowd halted, pressing around those who had heard what the
+superintendent had said, and looking at the departing trap.
+
+The superintendent of police turned round at that moment with a scared
+look, said something to his coachman, and his horses increased their
+speed.
+
+"It's a fraud, lads! Lead the way to him, himself!" shouted the tall
+youth. "Don't let him go, lads! Let him answer us! Keep him!" shouted
+different people and the people dashed in pursuit of the trap.
+
+Following the superintendent of police and talking loudly the crowd went
+in the direction of the Lubyanka Street.
+
+"There now, the gentry and merchants have gone away and left us to
+perish. Do they think we're dogs?" voices in the crowd were heard saying
+more and more frequently.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+On the evening of the first of September, after his interview with
+Kutuzov, Count Rostopchin had returned to Moscow mortified and offended
+because he had not been invited to attend the council of war, and
+because Kutuzov had paid no attention to his offer to take part in the
+defense of the city; amazed also at the novel outlook revealed to him at
+the camp, which treated the tranquillity of the capital and its
+patriotic fervor as not merely secondary but quite irrelevant and
+unimportant matters. Distressed, offended, and surprised by all this,
+Rostopchin had returned to Moscow. After supper he lay down on a sofa
+without undressing, and was awakened soon after midnight by a courier
+bringing him a letter from Kutuzov. This letter requested the count to
+send police officers to guide the troops through the town, as the army
+was retreating to the Ryazan road beyond Moscow. This was not news to
+Rostopchin. He had known that Moscow would be abandoned not merely since
+his interview the previous day with Kutuzov on the Poklonny Hill but
+ever since the battle of Borodino, for all the generals who came to
+Moscow after that battle had said unanimously that it was impossible to
+fight another battle, and since then the government property had been
+removed every night, and half the inhabitants had left the city with
+Rostopchin's own permission. Yet all the same this information
+astonished and irritated the count, coming as it did in the form of a
+simple note with an order from Kutuzov, and received at night, breaking
+in on his beauty sleep.
+
+When later on in his memoirs Count Rostopchin explained his actions at
+this time, he repeatedly says that he was then actuated by two important
+considerations: to maintain tranquillity in Moscow and expedite the
+departure of the inhabitants. If one accepts this twofold aim all
+Rostopchin's actions appear irreproachable. "Why were the holy relics,
+the arms, ammunition, gunpowder, and stores of corn not removed? Why
+were thousands of inhabitants deceived into believing that Moscow would
+not be given up--and thereby ruined?" "To preserve the tranquillity of
+the city," explains Count Rostopchin. "Why were bundles of useless
+papers from the government offices, and Leppich's balloon and other
+articles removed?" "To leave the town empty," explains Count Rostopchin.
+One need only admit that public tranquillity is in danger and any action
+finds a justification.
+
+All the horrors of the reign of terror were based only on solicitude for
+public tranquillity.
+
+On what, then, was Count Rostopchin's fear for the tranquillity of
+Moscow based in 1812? What reason was there for assuming any probability
+of an uprising in the city? The inhabitants were leaving it and the
+retreating troops were filling it. Why should that cause the masses to
+riot?
+
+Neither in Moscow nor anywhere in Russia did anything resembling an
+insurrection ever occur when the enemy entered a town. More than ten
+thousand people were still in Moscow on the first and second of
+September, and except for a mob in the governor's courtyard, assembled
+there at his bidding, nothing happened. It is obvious that there would
+have been even less reason to expect a disturbance among the people if
+after the battle of Borodino, when the surrender of Moscow became
+certain or at least probable, Rostopchin instead of exciting the people
+by distributing arms and broadsheets had taken steps to remove all the
+holy relics, the gunpowder, munitions, and money, and had told the
+population plainly that the town would be abandoned.
+
+Rostopchin, though he had patriotic sentiments, was a sanguine and
+impulsive man who had always moved in the highest administrative circles
+and had no understanding at all of the people he supposed himself to be
+guiding. Ever since the enemy's entry into Smolensk he had in
+imagination been playing the role of director of the popular feeling of
+"the heart of Russia." Not only did it seem to him (as to all
+administrators) that he controlled the external actions of Moscow's
+inhabitants, but he also thought he controlled their mental attitude by
+means of his broadsheets and posters, written in a coarse tone which the
+people despise in their own class and do not understand from those in
+authority. Rostopchin was so pleased with the fine role of leader of
+popular feeling, and had grown so used to it, that the necessity of
+relinquishing that role and abandoning Moscow without any heroic display
+took him unawares and he suddenly felt the ground slip away from under
+his feet, so that he positively did not know what to do. Though he knew
+it was coming, he did not till the last moment wholeheartedly believe
+that Moscow would be abandoned, and did not prepare for it. The
+inhabitants left against his wishes. If the government offices were
+removed, this was only done on the demand of officials to whom the count
+yielded reluctantly. He was absorbed in the role he had created for
+himself. As is often the case with those gifted with an ardent
+imagination, though he had long known that Moscow would be abandoned he
+knew it only with his intellect, he did not believe it in his heart and
+did not adapt himself mentally to this new position of affairs.
+
+All his painstaking and energetic activity (in how far it was useful and
+had any effect on the people is another question) had been simply
+directed toward arousing in the masses his own feeling of patriotic
+hatred of the French.
+
+But when events assumed their true historical character, when expressing
+hatred for the French in words proved insufficient, when it was not even
+possible to express that hatred by fighting a battle, when self-
+confidence was of no avail in relation to the one question before
+Moscow, when the whole population streamed out of Moscow as one man,
+abandoning their belongings and proving by that negative action all the
+depth of their national feeling, then the role chosen by Rostopchin
+suddenly appeared senseless. He unexpectedly felt himself ridiculous,
+weak, and alone, with no ground to stand on.
+
+When, awakened from his sleep, he received that cold, peremptory note
+from Kutuzov, he felt the more irritated the more he felt himself to
+blame. All that he had been specially put in charge of, the state
+property which he should have removed, was still in Moscow and it was no
+longer possible to take the whole of it away.
+
+"Who is to blame for it? Who has let things come to such a pass?" he
+ruminated. "Not I, of course. I had everything ready. I had Moscow
+firmly in hand. And this is what they have let it come to! Villains!
+Traitors!" he thought, without clearly defining who the villains and
+traitors were, but feeling it necessary to hate those traitors whoever
+they might be who were to blame for the false and ridiculous position in
+which he found himself.
+
+All that night Count Rostopchin issued orders, for which people came to
+him from all parts of Moscow. Those about him had never seen the count
+so morose and irritable.
+
+"Your excellency, the Director of the Registrar's Department has sent
+for instructions... From the Consistory, from the Senate, from the
+University, from the Foundling Hospital, the Suffragan has sent...
+asking for information.... What are your orders about the Fire Brigade?
+From the governor of the prison... from the superintendent of the
+lunatic asylum..." All night long such announcements were continually
+being received by the count.
+
+To all these inquiries he gave brief and angry replies indicating that
+orders from him were not now needed, that the whole affair, carefully
+prepared by him, had now been ruined by somebody, and that that somebody
+would have to bear the whole responsibility for all that might happen.
+
+"Oh, tell that blockhead," he said in reply to the question from the
+Registrar's Department, "that he should remain to guard his documents.
+Now why are you asking silly questions about the Fire Brigade? They have
+horses, let them be off to Vladimir, and not leave them to the French."
+
+"Your excellency, the superintendent of the lunatic asylum has come:
+what are your commands?"
+
+"My commands? Let them go away, that's all.... And let the lunatics out
+into the town. When lunatics command our armies God evidently means
+these other madmen to be free."
+
+In reply to an inquiry about the convicts in the prison, Count
+Rostopchin shouted angrily at the governor:
+
+"Do you expect me to give you two battalions--which we have not got--for
+a convoy? Release them, that's all about it!"
+
+"Your excellency, there are some political prisoners, Meshkov,
+Vereshchagin..."
+
+"Vereshchagin! Hasn't he been hanged yet?" shouted Rostopchin. "Bring
+him to me!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+Toward nine o'clock in the morning, when the troops were already moving
+through Moscow, nobody came to the count any more for instructions.
+Those who were able to get away were going of their own accord, those
+who remained behind decided for themselves what they must do.
+
+The count ordered his carriage that he might drive to Sokolniki, and sat
+in his study with folded hands, morose, sallow, and taciturn.
+
+In quiet and untroubled times it seems to every administrator that it is
+only by his efforts that the whole population under his rule is kept
+going, and in this consciousness of being indispensable every
+administrator finds the chief reward of his labor and efforts. While the
+sea of history remains calm the ruler-administrator in his frail bark,
+holding on with a boat hook to the ship of the people and himself
+moving, naturally imagines that his efforts move the ship he is holding
+on to. But as soon as a storm arises and the sea begins to heave and the
+ship to move, such a delusion is no longer possible. The ship moves
+independently with its own enormous motion, the boat hook no longer
+reaches the moving vessel, and suddenly the administrator, instead of
+appearing a ruler and a source of power, becomes an insignificant,
+useless, feeble man.
+
+Rostopchin felt this, and it was this which exasperated him.
+
+The superintendent of police, whom the crowd had stopped, went in to see
+him at the same time as an adjutant who informed the count that the
+horses were harnessed. They were both pale, and the superintendent of
+police, after reporting that he had executed the instructions he had
+received, informed the count that an immense crowd had collected in the
+courtyard and wished to see him.
+
+Without saying a word Rostopchin rose and walked hastily to his light,
+luxurious drawing room, went to the balcony door, took hold of the
+handle, let it go again, and went to the window from which he had a
+better view of the whole crowd. The tall lad was standing in front,
+flourishing his arm and saying something with a stern look. The blood-
+stained smith stood beside him with a gloomy face. A drone of voices was
+audible through the closed window.
+
+"Is my carriage ready?" asked Rostopchin, stepping back from the window.
+
+"It is, your excellency," replied the adjutant.
+
+Rostopchin went again to the balcony door.
+
+"But what do they want?" he asked the superintendent of police.
+
+"Your excellency, they say they have got ready, according to your
+orders, to go against the French, and they shouted something about
+treachery. But it is a turbulent crowd, your excellency--I hardly
+managed to get away from it. Your excellency, I venture to suggest..."
+
+"You may go. I don't need you to tell me what to do!" exclaimed
+Rostopchin angrily.
+
+He stood by the balcony door looking at the crowd.
+
+"This is what they have done with Russia! This is what they have done
+with me!" thought he, full of an irrepressible fury that welled up
+within him against the someone to whom what was happening might be
+attributed. As often happens with passionate people, he was mastered by
+anger but was still seeking an object on which to vent it. "Here is that
+mob, the dregs of the people," he thought as he gazed at the crowd:
+"this rabble they have roused by their folly! They want a victim," he
+thought as he looked at the tall lad flourishing his arm. And this
+thought occurred to him just because he himself desired a victim,
+something on which to vent his rage.
+
+"Is the carriage ready?" he asked again.
+
+"Yes, your excellency. What are your orders about Vereshchagin? He is
+waiting at the porch," said the adjutant.
+
+"Ah!" exclaimed Rostopchin, as if struck by an unexpected recollection.
+
+And rapidly opening the door he went resolutely out onto the balcony.
+The talking instantly ceased, hats and caps were doffed, and all eyes
+were raised to the count.
+
+"Good morning, lads!" said the count briskly and loudly. "Thank you for
+coming. I'll come out to you in a moment, but we must first settle with
+the villain. We must punish the villain who has caused the ruin of
+Moscow. Wait for me!"
+
+And the count stepped as briskly back into the room and slammed the door
+behind him.
+
+A murmur of approbation and satisfaction ran through the crowd. "He'll
+settle with all the villains, you'll see! And you said the French...
+He'll show you what law is!" the mob were saying as if reproving one
+another for their lack of confidence.
+
+A few minutes later an officer came hurriedly out of the front door,
+gave an order, and the dragoons formed up in line. The crowd moved
+eagerly from the balcony toward the porch. Rostopchin, coming out there
+with quick angry steps, looked hastily around as if seeking someone.
+
+"Where is he?" he inquired. And as he spoke he saw a young man coming
+round the corner of the house between two dragoons. He had a long thin
+neck, and his head, that had been half shaved, was again covered by
+short hair. This young man was dressed in a threadbare blue cloth coat
+lined with fox fur, that had once been smart, and dirty hempen convict
+trousers, over which were pulled his thin, dirty, trodden-down boots. On
+his thin, weak legs were heavy chains which hampered his irresolute
+movements.
+
+"Ah!" said Rostopchin, hurriedly turning away his eyes from the young
+man in the fur-lined coat and pointing to the bottom step of the porch.
+"Put him there."
+
+The young man in his clattering chains stepped clumsily to the spot
+indicated, holding away with one finger the coat collar which chafed his
+neck, turned his long neck twice this way and that, sighed, and
+submissively folded before him his thin hands, unused to work.
+
+For several seconds while the young man was taking his place on the step
+the silence continued. Only among the back rows of the people, who were
+all pressing toward the one spot, could sighs, groans, and the shuffling
+of feet be heard.
+
+While waiting for the young man to take his place on the step Rostopchin
+stood frowning and rubbing his face with his hand.
+
+"Lads!" said he, with a metallic ring in his voice. "This man,
+Vereshchagin, is the scoundrel by whose doing Moscow is perishing."
+
+The young man in the fur-lined coat, stooping a little, stood in a
+submissive attitude, his fingers clasped before him. His emaciated young
+face, disfigured by the half-shaven head, hung down hopelessly. At the
+count's first words he raised it slowly and looked up at him as if
+wishing to say something or at least to meet his eye. But Rostopchin did
+not look at him. A vein in the young man's long thin neck swelled like a
+cord and went blue behind the ear, and suddenly his face flushed.
+
+All eyes were fixed on him. He looked at the crowd, and rendered more
+hopeful by the expression he read on the faces there, he smiled sadly
+and timidly, and lowering his head shifted his feet on the step.
+
+"He has betrayed his Tsar and his country, he has gone over to
+Bonaparte. He alone of all the Russians has disgraced the Russian name,
+he has caused Moscow to perish," said Rostopchin in a sharp, even voice,
+but suddenly he glanced down at Vereshchagin who continued to stand in
+the same submissive attitude. As if inflamed by the sight, he raised his
+arm and addressed the people, almost shouting:
+
+"Deal with him as you think fit! I hand him over to you."
+
+The crowd remained silent and only pressed closer and closer to one
+another. To keep one another back, to breathe in that stifling
+atmosphere, to be unable to stir, and to await something unknown,
+uncomprehended, and terrible, was becoming unbearable. Those standing in
+front, who had seen and heard what had taken place before them, all
+stood with wide-open eyes and mouths, straining with all their strength,
+and held back the crowd that was pushing behind them.
+
+"Beat him!... Let the traitor perish and not disgrace the Russian name!"
+shouted Rostopchin. "Cut him down. I command it."
+
+Hearing not so much the words as the angry tone of Rostopchin's voice,
+the crowd moaned and heaved forward, but again paused.
+
+"Count!" exclaimed the timid yet theatrical voice of Vereshchagin in the
+midst of the momentary silence that ensued, "Count! One God is above us
+both...." He lifted his head and again the thick vein in his thin neck
+filled with blood and the color rapidly came and went in his face.
+
+He did not finish what he wished to say.
+
+"Cut him down! I command it..." shouted Rostopchin, suddenly growing
+pale like Vereshchagin.
+
+"Draw sabers!" cried the dragoon officer, drawing his own.
+
+Another still stronger wave flowed through the crowd and reaching the
+front ranks carried it swaying to the very steps of the porch. The tall
+youth, with a stony look on his face, and rigid and uplifted arm, stood
+beside Vereshchagin.
+
+"Saber him!" the dragoon officer almost whispered.
+
+And one of the soldiers, his face all at once distorted with fury,
+struck Vereshchagin on the head with the blunt side of his saber.
+
+"Ah!" cried Vereshchagin in meek surprise, looking round with a
+frightened glance as if not understanding why this was done to him. A
+similar moan of surprise and horror ran through the crowd. "O Lord!"
+exclaimed a sorrowful voice.
+
+But after the exclamation of surprise that had escaped from Vereshchagin
+he uttered a plaintive cry of pain, and that cry was fatal. The barrier
+of human feeling, strained to the utmost, that had held the crowd in
+check suddenly broke. The crime had begun and must now be completed. The
+plaintive moan of reproach was drowned by the threatening and angry roar
+of the crowd. Like the seventh and last wave that shatters a ship, that
+last irresistible wave burst from the rear and reached the front ranks,
+carrying them off their feet and engulfing them all. The dragoon was
+about to repeat his blow. Vereshchagin with a cry of horror, covering
+his head with his hands, rushed toward the crowd. The tall youth,
+against whom he stumbled, seized his thin neck with his hands and,
+yelling wildly, fell with him under the feet of the pressing, struggling
+crowd.
+
+Some beat and tore at Vereshchagin, others at the tall youth. And the
+screams of those that were being trampled on and of those who tried to
+rescue the tall lad only increased the fury of the crowd. It was a long
+time before the dragoons could extricate the bleeding youth, beaten
+almost to death. And for a long time, despite the feverish haste with
+which the mob tried to end the work that had been begun, those who were
+hitting, throttling, and tearing at Vereshchagin were unable to kill
+him, for the crowd pressed from all sides, swaying as one mass with them
+in the center and rendering it impossible for them either to kill him or
+let him go.
+
+"Hit him with an ax, eh!... Crushed?... Traitor, he sold Christ....
+Still alive... tenacious... serves him right! Torture serves a thief
+right. Use the hatchet!... What--still alive?"
+
+Only when the victim ceased to struggle and his cries changed to a long-
+drawn, measured death rattle did the crowd around his prostrate,
+bleeding corpse begin rapidly to change places. Each one came up,
+glanced at what had been done, and with horror, reproach, and
+astonishment pushed back again.
+
+"O Lord! The people are like wild beasts! How could he be alive?" voices
+in the crowd could be heard saying. "Quite a young fellow too... must
+have been a merchant's son. What men!... and they say he's not the right
+one.... How not the right one?... O Lord! And there's another has been
+beaten too--they say he's nearly done for.... Oh, the people... Aren't
+they afraid of sinning?..." said the same mob now, looking with pained
+distress at the dead body with its long, thin, half-severed neck and its
+livid face stained with blood and dust.
+
+A painstaking police officer, considering the presence of a corpse in
+his excellency's courtyard unseemly, told the dragoons to take it away.
+Two dragoons took it by its distorted legs and dragged it along the
+ground. The gory, dust-stained, half-shaven head with its long neck
+trailed twisting along the ground. The crowd shrank back from it.
+
+At the moment when Vereshchagin fell and the crowd closed in with savage
+yells and swayed about him, Rostopchin suddenly turned pale and, instead
+of going to the back entrance where his carriage awaited him, went with
+hurried steps and bent head, not knowing where and why, along the
+passage leading to the rooms on the ground floor. The count's face was
+white and he could not control the feverish twitching of his lower jaw.
+
+"This way, your excellency... Where are you going?... This way,
+please..." said a trembling, frightened voice behind him.
+
+Count Rostopchin was unable to reply and, turning obediently, went in
+the direction indicated. At the back entrance stood his caleche. The
+distant roar of the yelling crowd was audible even there. He hastily
+took his seat and told the coachman to drive him to his country house in
+Sokolniki.
+
+When they reached the Myasnitski Street and could no longer hear the
+shouts of the mob, the count began to repent. He remembered with
+dissatisfaction the agitation and fear he had betrayed before his
+subordinates. "The mob is terrible--disgusting," he said to himself in
+French. "They are like wolves whom nothing but flesh can appease."
+"Count! One God is above us both!"--Vereshchagin's words suddenly
+recurred to him, and a disagreeable shiver ran down his back. But this
+was only a momentary feeling and Count Rostopchin smiled disdainfully at
+himself. "I had other duties," thought he. "The people had to be
+appeased. Many other victims have perished and are perishing for the
+public good"--and he began thinking of his social duties to his family
+and to the city entrusted to him, and of himself--not himself as
+Theodore Vasilyevich Rostopchin (he fancied that Theodore Vasilyevich
+Rostopchin was sacrificing himself for the public good) but himself as
+governor, the representative of authority and of the Tsar. "Had I been
+simply Theodore Vasilyevich my course of action would have been quite
+different, but it was my duty to safeguard my life and dignity as
+commander-in-chief."
+
+Lightly swaying on the flexible springs of his carriage and no longer
+hearing the terrible sounds of the crowd, Rostopchin grew physically
+calm and, as always happens, as soon as he became physically tranquil
+his mind devised reasons why he should be mentally tranquil too. The
+thought which tranquillized Rostopchin was not a new one. Since the
+world began and men have killed one another no one has ever committed
+such a crime against his fellow man without comforting himself with this
+same idea. This idea is le bien public, the hypothetical welfare of
+other people.
+
+To a man not swayed by passion that welfare is never certain, but he who
+commits such a crime always knows just where that welfare lies. And
+Rostopchin now knew it.
+
+Not only did his reason not reproach him for what he had done, but he
+even found cause for self-satisfaction in having so successfully
+contrived to avail himself of a convenient opportunity to punish a
+criminal and at the same time pacify the mob.
+
+"Vereshchagin was tried and condemned to death," thought Rostopchin
+(though the Senate had only condemned Vereshchagin to hard labor), "he
+was a traitor and a spy. I could not let him go unpunished and so I have
+killed two birds with one stone: to appease the mob I gave them a victim
+and at the same time punished a miscreant."
+
+Having reached his country house and begun to give orders about domestic
+arrangements, the count grew quite tranquil.
+
+Half an hour later he was driving with his fast horses across the
+Sokolniki field, no longer thinking of what had occurred but considering
+what was to come. He was driving to the Yauza bridge where he had heard
+that Kutuzov was. Count Rostopchin was mentally preparing the angry and
+stinging reproaches he meant to address to Kutuzov for his deception. He
+would make that foxy old courtier feel that the responsibility for all
+the calamities that would follow the abandonment of the city and the
+ruin of Russia (as Rostopchin regarded it) would fall upon his doting
+old head. Planning beforehand what he would say to Kutuzov, Rostopchin
+turned angrily in his caleche and gazed sternly from side to side.
+
+The Sokolniki field was deserted. Only at the end of it, in front of the
+almshouse and the lunatic asylum, could be seen some people in white and
+others like them walking singly across the field shouting and
+gesticulating.
+
+One of these was running to cross the path of Count Rostopchin's
+carriage, and the count himself, his coachman, and his dragoons looked
+with vague horror and curiosity at these released lunatics and
+especially at the one running toward them.
+
+Swaying from side to side on his long, thin legs in his fluttering
+dressing gown, this lunatic was running impetuously, his gaze fixed on
+Rostopchin, shouting something in a hoarse voice and making signs to him
+to stop. The lunatic's solemn, gloomy face was thin and yellow, with its
+beard growing in uneven tufts. His black, agate pupils with saffron-
+yellow whites moved restlessly near the lower eyelids.
+
+"Stop! Pull up, I tell you!" he cried in a piercing voice, and again
+shouted something breathlessly with emphatic intonations and gestures.
+
+Coming abreast of the caleche he ran beside it.
+
+"Thrice have they slain me, thrice have I risen from the dead. They
+stoned me, crucified me... I shall rise... shall rise... shall rise.
+They have torn my body. The kingdom of God will be overthrown... Thrice
+will I overthrow it and thrice re-establish it!" he cried, raising his
+voice higher and higher.
+
+Count Rostopchin suddenly grew pale as he had done when the crowd closed
+in on Vereshchagin. He turned away. "Go fas... faster!" he cried in a
+trembling voice to his coachman. The caleche flew over the ground as
+fast as the horses could draw it, but for a long time Count Rostopchin
+still heard the insane despairing screams growing fainter in the
+distance, while his eyes saw nothing but the astonished, frightened,
+bloodstained face of "the traitor" in the fur-lined coat.
+
+Recent as that mental picture was, Rostopchin already felt that it had
+cut deep into his heart and drawn blood. Even now he felt clearly that
+the gory trace of that recollection would not pass with time, but that
+the terrible memory would, on the contrary, dwell in his heart ever more
+cruelly and painfully to the end of his life. He seemed still to hear
+the sound of his own words: "Cut him down! I command it...."
+
+"Why did I utter those words? It was by some accident I said them.... I
+need not have said them," he thought. "And then nothing would have
+happened." He saw the frightened and then infuriated face of the dragoon
+who dealt the blow, the look of silent, timid reproach that boy in the
+fur-lined coat had turned upon him. "But I did not do it for my own
+sake. I was bound to act that way.... The mob, the traitor... the public
+welfare," thought he.
+
+Troops were still crowding at the Yauza bridge. It was hot. Kutuzov,
+dejected and frowning, sat on a bench by the bridge toying with his whip
+in the sand when a caleche dashed up noisily. A man in a general's
+uniform with plumes in his hat went up to Kutuzov and said something in
+French. It was Count Rostopchin. He told Kutuzov that he had come
+because Moscow, the capital, was no more and only the army remained.
+
+"Things would have been different if your Serene Highness had not told
+me that you would not abandon Moscow without another battle; all this
+would not have happened," he said.
+
+Kutuzov looked at Rostopchin as if, not grasping what was said to him,
+he was trying to read something peculiar written at that moment on the
+face of the man addressing him. Rostopchin grew confused and became
+silent. Kutuzov slightly shook his head and not taking his penetrating
+gaze from Rostopchin's face muttered softly:
+
+"No! I shall not give up Moscow without a battle!"
+
+Whether Kutuzov was thinking of something entirely different when he
+spoke those words, or uttered them purposely, knowing them to be
+meaningless, at any rate Rostopchin made no reply and hastily left him.
+And strange to say, the Governor of Moscow, the proud Count Rostopchin,
+took up a Cossack whip and went to the bridge where he began with shouts
+to drive on the carts that blocked the way.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+Toward four o'clock in the afternoon Murat's troops were entering
+Moscow. In front rode a detachment of Wurttemberg hussars and behind
+them rode the King of Naples himself accompanied by a numerous suite.
+
+About the middle of the Arbat Street, near the Church of the Miraculous
+Icon of St. Nicholas, Murat halted to await news from the advanced
+detachment as to the condition in which they had found the citadel, le
+Kremlin.
+
+Around Murat gathered a group of those who had remained in Moscow. They
+all stared in timid bewilderment at the strange, long-haired commander
+dressed up in feathers and gold.
+
+"Is that their Tsar himself? He's not bad!" low voices could be heard
+saying.
+
+An interpreter rode up to the group.
+
+"Take off your cap... your caps!" These words went from one to another
+in the crowd. The interpreter addressed an old porter and asked if it
+was far to the Kremlin. The porter, listening in perplexity to the
+unfamiliar Polish accent and not realizing that the interpreter was
+speaking Russian, did not understand what was being said to him and
+slipped behind the others.
+
+Murat approached the interpreter and told him to ask where the Russian
+army was. One of the Russians understood what was asked and several
+voices at once began answering the interpreter. A French officer,
+returning from the advanced detachment, rode up to Murat and reported
+that the gates of the citadel had been barricaded and that there was
+probably an ambuscade there.
+
+"Good!" said Murat and, turning to one of the gentlemen in his suite,
+ordered four light guns to be moved forward to fire at the gates.
+
+The guns emerged at a trot from the column following Murat and advanced
+up the Arbat. When they reached the end of the Vozdvizhenka Street they
+halted and drew in the Square. Several French officers superintended the
+placing of the guns and looked at the Kremlin through field glasses.
+
+The bells in the Kremlin were ringing for vespers, and this sound
+troubled the French. They imagined it to be a call to arms. A few
+infantrymen ran to the Kutafyev Gate. Beams and wooden screens had been
+put there, and two musket shots rang out from under the gate as soon as
+an officer and men began to run toward it. A general who was standing by
+the guns shouted some words of command to the officer, and the latter
+ran back again with his men.
+
+The sound of three more shots came from the gate.
+
+One shot struck a French soldier's foot, and from behind the screens
+came the strange sound of a few voices shouting. Instantly as at a word
+of command the expression of cheerful serenity on the faces of the
+French general, officers, and men changed to one of determined
+concentrated readiness for strife and suffering. To all of them from the
+marshal to the least soldier, that place was not the Vozdvizhenka,
+Mokhavaya, or Kutafyev Street, nor the Troitsa Gate (places familiar in
+Moscow), but a new battlefield which would probably prove sanguinary.
+And all made ready for that battle. The cries from the gates ceased. The
+guns were advanced, the artillerymen blew the ash off their linstocks,
+and an officer gave the word "Fire!" This was followed by two whistling
+sounds of canister shot, one after another. The shot rattled against the
+stone of the gate and upon the wooden beams and screens, and two
+wavering clouds of smoke rose over the Square.
+
+A few instants after the echo of the reports resounding over the stone-
+built Kremlin had died away the French heard a strange sound above their
+head. Thousands of crows rose above the walls and circled in the air,
+cawing and noisily flapping their wings. Together with that sound came a
+solitary human cry from the gateway and amid the smoke appeared the
+figure of a bareheaded man in a peasant's coat. He grasped a musket and
+took aim at the French. "Fire!" repeated the officer once more, and the
+reports of a musket and of two cannon shots were heard simultaneously.
+The gate was again hidden by smoke.
+
+Nothing more stirred behind the screens and the French infantry soldiers
+and officers advanced to the gate. In the gateway lay three wounded and
+four dead. Two men in peasant coats ran away at the foot of the wall,
+toward the Znamenka.
+
+"Clear that away!" said the officer, pointing to the beams and the
+corpses, and the French soldiers, after dispatching the wounded, threw
+the corpses over the parapet.
+
+Who these men were nobody knew. "Clear that away!" was all that was said
+of them, and they were thrown over the parapet and removed later on that
+they might not stink. Thiers alone dedicates a few eloquent lines to
+their memory: "These wretches had occupied the sacred citadel, having
+supplied themselves with guns from the arsenal, and fired" (the
+wretches) "at the French. Some of them were sabered and the Kremlin was
+purged of their presence."
+
+Murat was informed that the way had been cleared. The French entered the
+gates and began pitching their camp in the Senate Square. Out of the
+windows of the Senate House the soldiers threw chairs into the Square
+for fuel and kindled fires there.
+
+Other detachments passed through the Kremlin and encamped along the
+Moroseyka, the Lubyanka, and Pokrovka Streets. Others quartered
+themselves along the Vozdvizhenka, the Nikolski, and the Tverskoy
+Streets. No masters of the houses being found anywhere, the French were
+not billeted on the inhabitants as is usual in towns but lived in it as
+in a camp.
+
+Though tattered, hungry, worn out, and reduced to a third of their
+original number, the French entered Moscow in good marching order. It
+was a weary and famished, but still a fighting and menacing army. But it
+remained an army only until its soldiers had dispersed into their
+different lodgings. As soon as the men of the various regiments began to
+disperse among the wealthy and deserted houses, the army was lost
+forever and there came into being something nondescript, neither
+citizens nor soldiers but what are known as marauders. When five weeks
+later these same men left Moscow, they no longer formed an army. They
+were a mob of marauders, each carrying a quantity of articles which
+seemed to him valuable or useful. The aim of each man when he left
+Moscow was no longer, as it had been, to conquer, but merely to keep
+what he had acquired. Like a monkey which puts its paw into the narrow
+neck of a jug, and having seized a handful of nuts will not open its
+fist for fear of losing what it holds, and therefore perishes, the
+French when they left Moscow had inevitably to perish because they
+carried their loot with them, yet to abandon what they had stolen was as
+impossible for them as it is for the monkey to open its paw and let go
+of its nuts. Ten minutes after each regiment had entered a Moscow
+district, not a soldier or officer was left. Men in military uniforms
+and Hessian boots could be seen through the windows, laughing and
+walking through the rooms. In cellars and storerooms similar men were
+busy among the provisions, and in the yards unlocking or breaking open
+coach house and stable doors, lighting fires in kitchens and kneading
+and baking bread with rolled-up sleeves, and cooking; or frightening,
+amusing, or caressing women and children. There were many such men both
+in the shops and houses--but there was no army.
+
+Order after order was issued by the French commanders that day
+forbidding the men to disperse about the town, sternly forbidding any
+violence to the inhabitants or any looting, and announcing a roll call
+for that very evening. But despite all these measures the men, who had
+till then constituted an army, flowed all over the wealthy, deserted
+city with its comforts and plentiful supplies. As a hungry herd of
+cattle keeps well together when crossing a barren field, but gets out of
+hand and at once disperses uncontrollably as soon as it reaches rich
+pastures, so did the army disperse all over the wealthy city.
+
+No residents were left in Moscow, and the soldiers--like water
+percolating through sand--spread irresistibly through the city in all
+directions from the Kremlin into which they had first marched. The
+cavalry, on entering a merchant's house that had been abandoned and
+finding there stabling more than sufficient for their horses, went on,
+all the same, to the next house which seemed to them better. Many of
+them appropriated several houses, chalked their names on them, and
+quarreled and even fought with other companies for them. Before they had
+had time to secure quarters the soldiers ran out into the streets to see
+the city and, hearing that everything had been abandoned, rushed to
+places where valuables were to be had for the taking. The officers
+followed to check the soldiers and were involuntarily drawn into doing
+the same. In Carriage Row carriages had been left in the shops, and
+generals flocked there to select caleches and coaches for themselves.
+The few inhabitants who had remained invited commanding officers to
+their houses, hoping thereby to secure themselves from being plundered.
+There were masses of wealth and there seemed no end to it. All around
+the quarters occupied by the French were other regions still unexplored
+and unoccupied where, they thought, yet greater riches might be found.
+And Moscow engulfed the army ever deeper and deeper. When water is
+spilled on dry ground both the dry ground and the water disappear and
+mud results; and in the same way the entry of the famished army into the
+rich and deserted city resulted in fires and looting and the destruction
+of both the army and the wealthy city.
+
+The French attributed the Fire of Moscow au patriotisme feroce de
+Rostopchine, * the Russians to the barbarity of the French. In reality,
+however, it was not, and could not be, possible to explain the burning
+of Moscow by making any individual, or any group of people, responsible
+for it. Moscow was burned because it found itself in a position in which
+any town built of wood was bound to burn, quite apart from whether it
+had, or had not, a hundred and thirty inferior fire engines. Deserted
+Moscow had to burn as inevitably as a heap of shavings has to burn on
+which sparks continually fall for several days. A town built of wood,
+where scarcely a day passes without conflagrations when the house owners
+are in residence and a police force is present, cannot help burning when
+its inhabitants have left it and it is occupied by soldiers who smoke
+pipes, make campfires of the Senate chairs in the Senate Square, and
+cook themselves meals twice a day. In peacetime it is only necessary to
+billet troops in the villages of any district and the number of fires in
+that district immediately increases. How much then must the probability
+of fire be increased in an abandoned, wooden town where foreign troops
+are quartered. "Le patriotisme feroce de Rostopchine" and the barbarity
+of the French were not to blame in the matter. Moscow was set on fire by
+the soldiers' pipes, kitchens, and campfires, and by the carelessness of
+enemy soldiers occupying houses they did not own. Even if there was any
+arson (which is very doubtful, for no one had any reason to burn the
+houses--in any case a troublesome and dangerous thing to do), arson
+cannot be regarded as the cause, for the same thing would have happened
+without any incendiarism.
+
+
+* To Rostopchin's ferocious patriotism.
+
+However tempting it might be for the French to blame Rostopchin's
+ferocity and for Russians to blame the scoundrel Bonaparte, or later on
+to place an heroic torch in the hands of their own people, it is
+impossible not to see that there could be no such direct cause of the
+fire, for Moscow had to burn as every village, factory, or house must
+burn which is left by its owners and in which strangers are allowed to
+live and cook their porridge. Moscow was burned by its inhabitants, it
+is true, but by those who had abandoned it and not by those who remained
+in it. Moscow when occupied by the enemy did not remain intact like
+Berlin, Vienna, and other towns, simply because its inhabitants
+abandoned it and did not welcome the French with bread and salt, nor
+bring them the keys of the city.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+The absorption of the French by Moscow, radiating starwise as it did,
+only reached the quarter where Pierre was staying by the evening of the
+second of September.
+
+After the last two days spent in solitude and unusual circumstances,
+Pierre was in a state bordering on insanity. He was completely obsessed
+by one persistent thought. He did not know how or when this thought had
+taken such possession of him, but he remembered nothing of the past,
+understood nothing of the present, and all he saw and heard appeared to
+him like a dream.
+
+He had left home only to escape the intricate tangle of life's demands
+that enmeshed him, and which in his present condition he was unable to
+unravel. He had gone to Joseph Alexeevich's house, on the plea of
+sorting the deceased's books and papers, only in search of rest from
+life's turmoil, for in his mind the memory of Joseph Alexeevich was
+connected with a world of eternal, solemn, and calm thoughts, quite
+contrary to the restless confusion into which he felt himself being
+drawn. He sought a quiet refuge, and in Joseph Alexeevich's study he
+really found it. When he sat with his elbows on the dusty writing table
+in the deathlike stillness of the study, calm and significant memories
+of the last few days rose one after another in his imagination,
+particularly of the battle of Borodino and of that vague sense of his
+own insignificance and insincerity compared with the truth, simplicity,
+and strength of the class of men he mentally classed as they. When
+Gerasim roused him from his reverie the idea occurred to him of taking
+part in the popular defense of Moscow which he knew was projected. And
+with that object he had asked Gerasim to get him a peasant's coat and a
+pistol, confiding to him his intentions of remaining in Joseph
+Alexeevich's house and keeping his name secret. Then during the first
+day spent in inaction and solitude (he tried several times to fix his
+attention on the masonic manuscripts, but was unable to do so) the idea
+that had previously occurred to him of the cabalistic significance of
+his name in connection with Bonaparte's more than once vaguely presented
+itself. But the idea that he, L'russe Besuhof, was destined to set a
+limit to the power of the Beast was as yet only one of the fancies that
+often passed through his mind and left no trace behind.
+
+When, having bought the coat merely with the object of taking part among
+the people in the defense of Moscow, Pierre had met the Rostovs and
+Natasha had said to him: "Are you remaining in Moscow?... How splendid!"
+the thought flashed into his mind that it really would be a good thing,
+even if Moscow were taken, for him to remain there and do what he was
+predestined to do.
+
+Next day, with the sole idea of not sparing himself and not lagging in
+any way behind them, Pierre went to the Three Hills gate. But when he
+returned to the house convinced that Moscow would not be defended, he
+suddenly felt that what before had seemed to him merely a possibility
+had now become absolutely necessary and inevitable. He must remain in
+Moscow, concealing his name, and must meet Napoleon and kill him, and
+either perish or put an end to the misery of all Europe--which it seemed
+to him was solely due to Napoleon.
+
+Pierre knew all the details of the attempt on Bonaparte's life in 1809
+by a German student in Vienna, and knew that the student had been shot.
+And the risk to which he would expose his life by carrying out his
+design excited him still more.
+
+Two equally strong feelings drew Pierre irresistibly to this purpose.
+The first was a feeling of the necessity of sacrifice and suffering in
+view of the common calamity, the same feeling that had caused him to go
+to Mozhaysk on the twenty-fifth and to make his way to the very thick of
+the battle and had now caused him to run away from his home and, in
+place of the luxury and comfort to which he was accustomed, to sleep on
+a hard sofa without undressing and eat the same food as Gerasim. The
+other was that vague and quite Russian feeling of contempt for
+everything conventional, artificial, and human--for everything the
+majority of men regard as the greatest good in the world. Pierre had
+first experienced this strange and fascinating feeling at the Sloboda
+Palace, when he had suddenly felt that wealth, power, and life--all that
+men so painstakingly acquire and guard--if it has any worth has so only
+by reason of the joy with which it can all be renounced.
+
+It was the feeling that induces a volunteer recruit to spend his last
+penny on drink, and a drunken man to smash mirrors or glasses for no
+apparent reason and knowing that it will cost him all the money he
+possesses: the feeling which causes a man to perform actions which from
+an ordinary point of view are insane, to test, as it were, his personal
+power and strength, affirming the existence of a higher, nonhuman
+criterion of life.
+
+From the very day Pierre had experienced this feeling for the first time
+at the Sloboda Palace he had been continuously under its influence, but
+only now found full satisfaction for it. Moreover, at this moment Pierre
+was supported in his design and prevented from renouncing it by what he
+had already done in that direction. If he were now to leave Moscow like
+everyone else, his flight from home, the peasant coat, the pistol, and
+his announcement to the Rostovs that he would remain in Moscow would all
+become not merely meaningless but contemptible and ridiculous, and to
+this Pierre was very sensitive.
+
+Pierre's physical condition, as is always the case, corresponded to his
+mental state. The unaccustomed coarse food, the vodka he drank during
+those days, the absence of wine and cigars, his dirty unchanged linen,
+two almost sleepless nights passed on a short sofa without bedding--all
+this kept him in a state of excitement bordering on insanity.
+
+It was two o'clock in the afternoon. The French had already entered
+Moscow. Pierre knew this, but instead of acting he only thought about
+his undertaking, going over its minutest details in his mind. In his
+fancy he did not clearly picture to himself either the striking of the
+blow or the death of Napoleon, but with extraordinary vividness and
+melancholy enjoyment imagined his own destruction and heroic endurance.
+
+"Yes, alone, for the sake of all, I must do it or perish!" he thought.
+"Yes, I will approach... and then suddenly... with pistol or dagger? But
+that is all the same! 'It is not I but the hand of Providence that
+punishes thee,' I shall say," thought he, imagining what he would say
+when killing Napoleon. "Well then, take me and execute me!" he went on,
+speaking to himself and bowing his head with a sad but firm expression.
+
+While Pierre, standing in the middle of the room, was talking to himself
+in this way, the study door opened and on the threshold appeared the
+figure of Makar Alexeevich, always so timid before but now quite
+transformed.
+
+His dressing gown was unfastened, his face red and distorted. He was
+obviously drunk. On seeing Pierre he grew confused at first, but
+noticing embarrassment on Pierre's face immediately grew bold and,
+staggering on his thin legs, advanced into the middle of the room.
+
+"They're frightened," he said confidentially in a hoarse voice. "I say I
+won't surrender, I say... Am I not right, sir?"
+
+He paused and then suddenly seeing the pistol on the table seized it
+with unexpected rapidity and ran out into the corridor.
+
+Gerasim and the porter, who had followed Makar Alexeevich, stopped him
+in the vestibule and tried to take the pistol from him. Pierre, coming
+out into the corridor, looked with pity and repulsion at the half-crazy
+old man. Makar Alexeevich, frowning with exertion, held on to the pistol
+and screamed hoarsely, evidently with some heroic fancy in his head.
+
+"To arms! Board them! No, you shan't get it," he yelled.
+
+"That will do, please, that will do. Have the goodness--please, sir, to
+let go! Please, sir..." pleaded Gerasim, trying carefully to steer Makar
+Alexeevich by the elbows back to the door.
+
+"Who are you? Bonaparte!..." shouted Makar Alexeevich.
+
+"That's not right, sir. Come to your room, please, and rest. Allow me to
+have the pistol."
+
+"Be off, thou base slave! Touch me not! See this?" shouted Makar
+Alexeevich, brandishing the pistol. "Board them!"
+
+"Catch hold!" whispered Gerasim to the porter.
+
+They seized Makar Alexeevich by the arms and dragged him to the door.
+
+The vestibule was filled with the discordant sounds of a struggle and of
+a tipsy, hoarse voice.
+
+Suddenly a fresh sound, a piercing feminine scream, reverberated from
+the porch and the cook came running into the vestibule.
+
+"It's them! Gracious heavens! O Lord, four of them, horsemen!" she
+cried.
+
+Gerasim and the porter let Makar Alexeevich go, and in the now silent
+corridor the sound of several hands knocking at the front door could be
+heard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+Pierre, having decided that until he had carried out his design he would
+disclose neither his identity nor his knowledge of French, stood at the
+half-open door of the corridor, intending to conceal himself as soon as
+the French entered. But the French entered and still Pierre did not
+retire--an irresistible curiosity kept him there.
+
+There were two of them. One was an officer--a tall, soldierly, handsome
+man--the other evidently a private or an orderly, sunburned, short, and
+thin, with sunken cheeks and a dull expression. The officer walked in
+front, leaning on a stick and slightly limping. When he had advanced a
+few steps he stopped, having apparently decided that these were good
+quarters, turned round to the soldiers standing at the entrance, and in
+a loud voice of command ordered them to put up the horses. Having done
+that, the officer, lifting his elbow with a smart gesture, stroked his
+mustache and lightly touched his hat.
+
+"Bonjour, la compagnie!" * said he gaily, smiling and looking about him.
+
+
+* "Good day, everybody!"
+
+No one gave any reply.
+
+"Vous etes le bourgeois?" * the officer asked Gerasim.
+
+
+* "Are you the master here?"
+
+Gerasim gazed at the officer with an alarmed and inquiring look.
+
+"Quartier, quartier, logement!" said the officer, looking down at the
+little man with a condescending and good-natured smile. "Les francais
+sont de bons enfants. Que diable! Voyons! Ne nous fachons pas, mon
+vieux!" * added he, clapping the scared and silent Gerasim on the
+shoulder. "Well, does no one speak French in this establishment?" he
+asked again in French, looking around and meeting Pierre's eyes. Pierre
+moved away from the door.
+
+
+* "Quarters, quarters, lodgings! The French are good fellows. What the
+devil! There, don't let us be cross, old fellow!"
+
+Again the officer turned to Gerasim and asked him to show him the rooms
+in the house.
+
+"Master, not here--don't understand... me, you..." said Gerasim, trying
+to render his words more comprehensible by contorting them.
+
+Still smiling, the French officer spread out his hands before Gerasim's
+nose, intimating that he did not understand him either, and moved,
+limping, to the door at which Pierre was standing. Pierre wished to go
+away and conceal himself, but at that moment he saw Makar Alexeevich
+appearing at the open kitchen door with the pistol in his hand. With a
+madman's cunning, Makar Alexeevich eyed the Frenchman, raised his
+pistol, and took aim.
+
+"Board them!" yelled the tipsy man, trying to press the trigger. Hearing
+the yell the officer turned round, and at the same moment Pierre threw
+himself on the drunkard. Just when Pierre snatched at and struck up the
+pistol Makar Alexeevich at last got his fingers on the trigger, there
+was a deafening report, and all were enveloped in a cloud of smoke. The
+Frenchman turned pale and rushed to the door.
+
+Forgetting his intention of concealing his knowledge of French, Pierre,
+snatching away the pistol and throwing it down, ran up to the officer
+and addressed him in French.
+
+"You are not wounded?" he asked.
+
+"I think not," answered the Frenchman, feeling himself over. "But I have
+had a lucky escape this time," he added, pointing to the damaged plaster
+of the wall. "Who is that man?" said he, looking sternly at Pierre.
+
+"Oh, I am really in despair at what has occurred," said Pierre rapidly,
+quite forgetting the part he had intended to play. "He is an unfortunate
+madman who did not know what he was doing."
+
+The officer went up to Makar Alexeevich and took him by the collar.
+
+Makar Alexeevich was standing with parted lips, swaying, as if about to
+fall asleep, as he leaned against the wall.
+
+"Brigand! You shall pay for this," said the Frenchman, letting go of
+him. "We French are merciful after victory, but we do not pardon
+traitors," he added, with a look of gloomy dignity and a fine energetic
+gesture.
+
+Pierre continued, in French, to persuade the officer not to hold that
+drunken imbecile to account. The Frenchman listened in silence with the
+same gloomy expression, but suddenly turned to Pierre with a smile. For
+a few seconds he looked at him in silence. His handsome face assumed a
+melodramatically gentle expression and he held out his hand.
+
+"You have saved my life. You are French," said he.
+
+For a Frenchman that deduction was indubitable. Only a Frenchman could
+perform a great deed, and to save his life--the life of M. Ramballe,
+captain of the 13th Light Regiment--was undoubtedly a very great deed.
+
+But however indubitable that conclusion and the officer's conviction
+based upon it, Pierre felt it necessary to disillusion him.
+
+"I am Russian," he said quickly.
+
+"Tut, tut, tut! Tell that to others," said the officer, waving his
+finger before his nose and smiling. "You shall tell me all about that
+presently. I am delighted to meet a compatriot. Well, and what are we to
+do with this man?" he added, addressing himself to Pierre as to a
+brother.
+
+Even if Pierre were not a Frenchman, having once received that loftiest
+of human appellations he could not renounce it, said the officer's look
+and tone. In reply to his last question Pierre again explained who Makar
+Alexeevich was and how just before their arrival that drunken imbecile
+had seized the loaded pistol which they had not had time to recover from
+him, and begged the officer to let the deed go unpunished.
+
+The Frenchman expanded his chest and made a majestic gesture with his
+arm.
+
+"You have saved my life! You are French. You ask his pardon? I grant it
+you. Lead that man away!" said he quickly and energetically, and taking
+the arm of Pierre whom he had promoted to be a Frenchman for saving his
+life, he went with him into the room.
+
+The soldiers in the yard, hearing the shot, came into the passage asking
+what had happened, and expressed their readiness to punish the culprits,
+but the officer sternly checked them.
+
+"You will be called in when you are wanted," he said.
+
+The soldiers went out again, and the orderly, who had meanwhile had time
+to visit the kitchen, came up to his officer.
+
+"Captain, there is soup and a leg of mutton in the kitchen," said he.
+"Shall I serve them up?"
+
+"Yes, and some wine," answered the captain.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+When the French officer went into the room with Pierre the latter again
+thought it his duty to assure him that he was not French and wished to
+go away, but the officer would not hear of it. He was so very polite,
+amiable, good-natured, and genuinely grateful to Pierre for saving his
+life that Pierre had not the heart to refuse, and sat down with him in
+the parlor--the first room they entered. To Pierre's assurances that he
+was not a Frenchman, the captain, evidently not understanding how anyone
+could decline so flattering an appellation, shrugged his shoulders and
+said that if Pierre absolutely insisted on passing for a Russian let it
+be so, but for all that he would be forever bound to Pierre by gratitude
+for saving his life.
+
+Had this man been endowed with the slightest capacity for perceiving the
+feelings of others, and had he at all understood what Pierre's feelings
+were, the latter would probably have left him, but the man's animated
+obtuseness to everything other than himself disarmed Pierre.
+
+"A Frenchman or a Russian prince incognito," said the officer, looking
+at Pierre's fine though dirty linen and at the ring on his finger. "I
+owe my life to you and offer you my friendship. A Frenchman never
+forgets either an insult or a service. I offer you my friendship. That
+is all I can say."
+
+There was so much good nature and nobility (in the French sense of the
+word) in the officer's voice, in the expression of his face and in his
+gestures, that Pierre, unconsciously smiling in response to the
+Frenchman's smile, pressed the hand held out to him.
+
+"Captain Ramballe, of the 13th Light Regiment, Chevalier of the Legion
+of Honor for the affair on the seventh of September," he introduced
+himself, a self-satisfied irrepressible smile puckering his lips under
+his mustache. "Will you now be so good as to tell me with whom I have
+the honor of conversing so pleasantly, instead of being in the ambulance
+with that maniac's bullet in my body?"
+
+Pierre replied that he could not tell him his name and, blushing, began
+to try to invent a name and to say something about his reason for
+concealing it, but the Frenchman hastily interrupted him.
+
+"Oh, please!" said he. "I understand your reasons. You are an officer...
+a superior officer perhaps. You have borne arms against us. That's not
+my business. I owe you my life. That is enough for me. I am quite at
+your service. You belong to the gentry?" he concluded with a shade of
+inquiry in his tone. Pierre bent his head. "Your baptismal name, if you
+please. That is all I ask. Monsieur Pierre, you say.... That's all I
+want to know."
+
+When the mutton and an omelet had been served and a samovar and vodka
+brought, with some wine which the French had taken from a Russian cellar
+and brought with them, Ramballe invited Pierre to share his dinner, and
+himself began to eat greedily and quickly like a healthy and hungry man,
+munching his food rapidly with his strong teeth, continually smacking
+his lips, and repeating--"Excellent! Delicious!" His face grew red and
+was covered with perspiration. Pierre was hungry and shared the dinner
+with pleasure. Morel, the orderly, brought some hot water in a saucepan
+and placed a bottle of claret in it. He also brought a bottle of kvass,
+taken from the kitchen for them to try. That beverage was already known
+to the French and had been given a special name. They called it limonade
+de cochon (pig's lemonade), and Morel spoke well of the limonade de
+cochon he had found in the kitchen. But as the captain had the wine they
+had taken while passing through Moscow, he left the kvass to Morel and
+applied himself to the bottle of Bordeaux. He wrapped the bottle up to
+its neck in a table napkin and poured out wine for himself and for
+Pierre. The satisfaction of his hunger and the wine rendered the captain
+still more lively and he chatted incessantly all through dinner.
+
+"Yes, my dear Monsieur Pierre, I owe you a fine votive candle for saving
+me from that maniac.... You see, I have bullets enough in my body
+already. Here is one I got at Wagram" (he touched his side) "and a
+second at Smolensk"--he showed a scar on his cheek--"and this leg which
+as you see does not want to march, I got that on the seventh at the
+great battle of la Moskowa. Sacre Dieu! It was splendid! That deluge of
+fire was worth seeing. It was a tough job you set us there, my word! You
+may be proud of it! And on my honor, in spite of the cough I caught
+there, I should be ready to begin again. I pity those who did not see
+it."
+
+"I was there," said Pierre.
+
+"Bah, really? So much the better! You are certainly brave foes. The
+great redoubt held out well, by my pipe!" continued the Frenchman. "And
+you made us pay dear for it. I was at it three times--sure as I sit
+here. Three times we reached the guns and three times we were thrown
+back like cardboard figures. Oh, it was beautiful, Monsieur Pierre! Your
+grenadiers were splendid, by heaven! I saw them close up their ranks six
+times in succession and march as if on parade. Fine fellows! Our King of
+Naples, who knows what's what, cried 'Bravo!' Ha, ha! So you are one of
+us soldiers!" he added, smiling, after a momentary pause. "So much the
+better, so much the better, Monsieur Pierre! Terrible in battle...
+gallant... with the fair" (he winked and smiled), "that's what the
+French are, Monsieur Pierre, aren't they?"
+
+The captain was so naively and good-humoredly gay, so real, and so
+pleased with himself that Pierre almost winked back as he looked merrily
+at him. Probably the word "gallant" turned the captain's thoughts to the
+state of Moscow.
+
+"Apropos, tell me please, is it true that the women have all left
+Moscow? What a queer idea! What had they to be afraid of?"
+
+"Would not the French ladies leave Paris if the Russians entered it?"
+asked Pierre.
+
+"Ha, ha, ha!" The Frenchman emitted a merry, sanguine chuckle, patting
+Pierre on the shoulder. "What a thing to say!" he exclaimed. "Paris?...
+But Paris, Paris..."
+
+"Paris--the capital of the world," Pierre finished his remark for him.
+
+The captain looked at Pierre. He had a habit of stopping short in the
+middle of his talk and gazing intently with his laughing, kindly eyes.
+
+"Well, if you hadn't told me you were Russian, I should have wagered
+that you were Parisian! You have that... I don't know what, that..." and
+having uttered this compliment, he again gazed at him in silence.
+
+"I have been in Paris. I spent years there," said Pierre.
+
+"Oh yes, one sees that plainly. Paris!... A man who doesn't know Paris
+is a savage. You can tell a Parisian two leagues off. Paris is Talma, la
+Duchenois, Potier, the Sorbonne, the boulevards," and noticing that his
+conclusion was weaker than what had gone before, he added quickly:
+"There is only one Paris in the world. You have been to Paris and have
+remained Russian. Well, I don't esteem you the less for it."
+
+Under the influence of the wine he had drunk, and after the days he had
+spent alone with his depressing thoughts, Pierre involuntarily enjoyed
+talking with this cheerful and good-natured man.
+
+"To return to your ladies--I hear they are lovely. What a wretched idea
+to go and bury themselves in the steppes when the French army is in
+Moscow. What a chance those girls have missed! Your peasants, now--
+that's another thing; but you civilized people, you ought to know us
+better than that. We took Vienna, Berlin, Madrid, Naples, Rome, Warsaw,
+all the world's capitals.... We are feared, but we are loved. We are
+nice to know. And then the Emperor..." he began, but Pierre interrupted
+him.
+
+"The Emperor," Pierre repeated, and his face suddenly became sad and
+embarrassed, "is the Emperor...?"
+
+"The Emperor? He is generosity, mercy, justice, order, genius--that's
+what the Emperor is! It is I, Ramballe, who tell you so.... I assure you
+I was his enemy eight years ago. My father was an emigrant count.... But
+that man has vanquished me. He has taken hold of me. I could not resist
+the sight of the grandeur and glory with which he has covered France.
+When I understood what he wanted--when I saw that he was preparing a bed
+of laurels for us, you know, I said to myself: 'That is a monarch,' and
+I devoted myself to him! So there! Oh yes, mon cher, he is the greatest
+man of the ages past or future."
+
+"Is he in Moscow?" Pierre stammered with a guilty look.
+
+The Frenchman looked at his guilty face and smiled.
+
+"No, he will make his entry tomorrow," he replied, and continued his
+talk.
+
+Their conversation was interrupted by the cries of several voices at the
+gate and by Morel, who came to say that some Wurttemberg hussars had
+come and wanted to put up their horses in the yard where the captain's
+horses were. This difficulty had arisen chiefly because the hussars did
+not understand what was said to them in French.
+
+The captain had their senior sergeant called in, and in a stern voice
+asked him to what regiment he belonged, who was his commanding officer,
+and by what right he allowed himself to claim quarters that were already
+occupied. The German who knew little French, answered the two first
+questions by giving the names of his regiment and of his commanding
+officer, but in reply to the third question which he did not understand
+said, introducing broken French into his own German, that he was the
+quartermaster of the regiment and his commander had ordered him to
+occupy all the houses one after another. Pierre, who knew German,
+translated what the German said to the captain and gave the captain's
+reply to the Wurttemberg hussar in German. When he had understood what
+was said to him, the German submitted and took his men elsewhere. The
+captain went out into the porch and gave some orders in a loud voice.
+
+When he returned to the room Pierre was sitting in the same place as
+before, with his head in his hands. His face expressed suffering. He
+really was suffering at that moment. When the captain went out and he
+was left alone, suddenly he came to himself and realized the position he
+was in. It was not that Moscow had been taken or that the happy
+conquerors were masters in it and were patronizing him. Painful as that
+was it was not that which tormented Pierre at the moment. He was
+tormented by the consciousness of his own weakness. The few glasses of
+wine he had drunk and the conversation with this good-natured man had
+destroyed the mood of concentrated gloom in which he had spent the last
+few days and which was essential for the execution of his design. The
+pistol, dagger, and peasant coat were ready. Napoleon was to enter the
+town next day. Pierre still considered that it would be a useful and
+worthy action to slay the evildoer, but now he felt that he would not do
+it. He did not know why, but he felt a foreboding that he would not
+carry out his intention. He struggled against the confession of his
+weakness but dimly felt that he could not overcome it and that his
+former gloomy frame of mind, concerning vengeance, killing, and self-
+sacrifice, had been dispersed like dust by contact with the first man he
+met.
+
+The captain returned to the room, limping slightly and whistling a tune.
+
+The Frenchman's chatter which had previously amused Pierre now repelled
+him. The tune he was whistling, his gait, and the gesture with which he
+twirled his mustache, all now seemed offensive. "I will go away
+immediately. I won't say another word to him," thought Pierre. He
+thought this, but still sat in the same place. A strange feeling of
+weakness tied him to the spot; he wished to get up and go away, but
+could not do so.
+
+The captain, on the other hand, seemed very cheerful. He paced up and
+down the room twice. His eyes shone and his mustache twitched as if he
+were smiling to himself at some amusing thought.
+
+"The colonel of those Wurttembergers is delightful," he suddenly said.
+"He's a German, but a nice fellow all the same.... But he's a German."
+He sat down facing Pierre. "By the way, you know German, then?"
+
+Pierre looked at him in silence.
+
+"What is the German for 'shelter'?"
+
+"Shelter?" Pierre repeated. "The German for shelter is Unterkunft."
+
+"How do you say it?" the captain asked quickly and doubtfully.
+
+"Unterkunft," Pierre repeated.
+
+"Onterkoff," said the captain and looked at Pierre for some seconds with
+laughing eyes. "These Germans are first-rate fools, don't you think so,
+Monsieur Pierre?" he concluded.
+
+"Well, let's have another bottle of this Moscow Bordeaux, shall we?
+Morel will warm us up another little bottle. Morel!" he called out
+gaily.
+
+Morel brought candles and a bottle of wine. The captain looked at Pierre
+by the candlelight and was evidently struck by the troubled expression
+on his companion's face. Ramballe, with genuine distress and sympathy in
+his face, went up to Pierre and bent over him.
+
+"There now, we're sad," said he, touching Pierre's hand. "Have I upset
+you? No, really, have you anything against me?" he asked Pierre.
+"Perhaps it's the state of affairs?"
+
+Pierre did not answer, but looked cordially into the Frenchman's eyes
+whose expression of sympathy was pleasing to him.
+
+"Honestly, without speaking of what I owe you, I feel friendship for
+you. Can I do anything for you? Dispose of me. It is for life and death.
+I say it with my hand on my heart!" said he, striking his chest.
+
+"Thank you," said Pierre.
+
+The captain gazed intently at him as he had done when he learned that
+"shelter" was Unterkunft in German, and his face suddenly brightened.
+
+"Well, in that case, I drink to our friendship!" he cried gaily, filling
+two glasses with wine.
+
+Pierre took one of the glasses and emptied it. Ramballe emptied his too,
+again pressed Pierre's hand, and leaned his elbows on the table in a
+pensive attitude.
+
+"Yes, my dear friend," he began, "such is fortune's caprice. Who would
+have said that I should be a soldier and a captain of dragoons in the
+service of Bonaparte, as we used to call him? Yet here I am in Moscow
+with him. I must tell you, mon cher," he continued in the sad and
+measured tones of a man who intends to tell a long story, "that our name
+is one of the most ancient in France."
+
+And with a Frenchman's easy and naive frankness the captain told Pierre
+the story of his ancestors, his childhood, youth, and manhood, and all
+about his relations and his financial and family affairs, "ma pauvre
+mere" playing of course an important part in the story.
+
+"But all that is only life's setting, the real thing is love--love! Am I
+not right, Monsieur Pierre?" said he, growing animated. "Another glass?"
+
+Pierre again emptied his glass and poured himself out a third.
+
+"Oh, women, women!" and the captain, looking with glistening eyes at
+Pierre, began talking of love and of his love affairs.
+
+There were very many of these, as one could easily believe, looking at
+the officer's handsome, self-satisfied face, and noting the eager
+enthusiasm with which he spoke of women. Though all Ramballe's love
+stories had the sensual character which Frenchmen regard as the special
+charm and poetry of love, yet he told his story with such sincere
+conviction that he alone had experienced and known all the charm of love
+and he described women so alluringly that Pierre listened to him with
+curiosity.
+
+It was plain that l'amour which the Frenchman was so fond of was not
+that low and simple kind that Pierre had once felt for his wife, nor was
+it the romantic love stimulated by himself that he experienced for
+Natasha. (Ramballe despised both these kinds of love equally: the one he
+considered the "love of clodhoppers" and the other the "love of
+simpletons.") L'amour which the Frenchman worshiped consisted
+principally in the unnaturalness of his relation to the woman and in a
+combination of incongruities giving the chief charm to the feeling.
+
+Thus the captain touchingly recounted the story of his love for a
+fascinating marquise of thirty-five and at the same time for a charming,
+innocent child of seventeen, daughter of the bewitching marquise. The
+conflict of magnanimity between the mother and the daughter, ending in
+the mother's sacrificing herself and offering her daughter in marriage
+to her lover, even now agitated the captain, though it was the memory of
+a distant past. Then he recounted an episode in which the husband played
+the part of the lover, and he--the lover--assumed the role of the
+husband, as well as several droll incidents from his recollections of
+Germany, where "shelter" is called Unterkunft and where the husbands eat
+sauerkraut and the young girls are "too blonde."
+
+Finally, the latest episode in Poland still fresh in the captain's
+memory, and which he narrated with rapid gestures and glowing face, was
+of how he had saved the life of a Pole (in general, the saving of life
+continually occurred in the captain's stories) and the Pole had
+entrusted to him his enchanting wife (parisienne de coeur) while himself
+entering the French service. The captain was happy, the enchanting
+Polish lady wished to elope with him, but, prompted by magnanimity, the
+captain restored the wife to the husband, saying as he did so: "I have
+saved your life, and I save your honor!" Having repeated these words the
+captain wiped his eyes and gave himself a shake, as if driving away the
+weakness which assailed him at this touching recollection.
+
+Listening to the captain's tales, Pierre--as often happens late in the
+evening and under the influence of wine--followed all that was told him,
+understood it all, and at the same time followed a train of personal
+memories which, he knew not why, suddenly arose in his mind. While
+listening to these love stories his own love for Natasha unexpectedly
+rose to his mind, and going over the pictures of that love in his
+imagination he mentally compared them with Ramballe's tales. Listening
+to the story of the struggle between love and duty, Pierre saw before
+his eyes every minutest detail of his last meeting with the object of
+his love at the Sukharev water tower. At the time of that meeting it had
+not produced an effect upon him--he had not even once recalled it. But
+now it seemed to him that that meeting had had in it something very
+important and poetic.
+
+"Peter Kirilovich, come here! We have recognized you," he now seemed to
+hear the words she had uttered and to see before him her eyes, her
+smile, her traveling hood, and a stray lock of her hair... and there
+seemed to him something pathetic and touching in all this.
+
+Having finished his tale about the enchanting Polish lady, the captain
+asked Pierre if he had ever experienced a similar impulse to sacrifice
+himself for love and a feeling of envy of the legitimate husband.
+
+Challenged by this question Pierre raised his head and felt a need to
+express the thoughts that filled his mind. He began to explain that he
+understood love for a women somewhat differently. He said that in all
+his life he had loved and still loved only one woman, and that she could
+never be his.
+
+"Tiens!" said the captain.
+
+Pierre then explained that he had loved this woman from his earliest
+years, but that he had not dared to think of her because she was too
+young, and because he had been an illegitimate son without a name.
+Afterwards when he had received a name and wealth he dared not think of
+her because he loved her too well, placing her far above everything in
+the world, and especially therefore above himself.
+
+When he had reached this point, Pierre asked the captain whether he
+understood that.
+
+The captain made a gesture signifying that even if he did not understand
+it he begged Pierre to continue.
+
+"Platonic love, clouds..." he muttered.
+
+Whether it was the wine he had drunk, or an impulse of frankness, or the
+thought that this man did not, and never would, know any of those who
+played a part in his story, or whether it was all these things together,
+something loosened Pierre's tongue. Speaking thickly and with a faraway
+look in his shining eyes, he told the whole story of his life: his
+marriage, Natasha's love for his best friend, her betrayal of him, and
+all his own simple relations with her. Urged on by Ramballe's questions
+he also told what he had at first concealed--his own position and even
+his name.
+
+More than anything else in Pierre's story the captain was impressed by
+the fact that Pierre was very rich, had two mansions in Moscow, and that
+he had abandoned everything and not left the city, but remained there
+concealing his name and station.
+
+When it was late at night they went out together into the street. The
+night was warm and light. To the left of the house on the Pokrovka a
+fire glowed--the first of those that were beginning in Moscow. To the
+right and high up in the sky was the sickle of the waning moon and
+opposite to it hung that bright comet which was connected in Pierre's
+heart with his love. At the gate stood Gerasim, the cook, and two
+Frenchmen. Their laughter and their mutually incomprehensible remarks in
+two languages could be heard. They were looking at the glow seen in the
+town.
+
+There was nothing terrible in the one small, distant fire in the immense
+city.
+
+Gazing at the high starry sky, at the moon, at the comet, and at the
+glow from the fire, Pierre experienced a joyful emotion. "There now, how
+good it is, what more does one need?" thought he. And suddenly
+remembering his intention he grew dizzy and felt so faint that he leaned
+against the fence to save himself from falling.
+
+Without taking leave of his new friend, Pierre left the gate with
+unsteady steps and returning to his room lay down on the sofa and
+immediately fell asleep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+The glow of the first fire that began on the second of September was
+watched from the various roads by the fugitive Muscovites and by the
+retreating troops, with many different feelings.
+
+The Rostov party spent the night at Mytishchi, fourteen miles from
+Moscow. They had started so late on the first of September, the road had
+been so blocked by vehicles and troops, so many things had been
+forgotten for which servants were sent back, that they had decided to
+spend that night at a place three miles out of Moscow. The next morning
+they woke late and were again delayed so often that they only got as far
+as Great Mytishchi. At ten o'clock that evening the Rostov family and
+the wounded traveling with them were all distributed in the yards and
+huts of that large village. The Rostovs' servants and coachmen and the
+orderlies of the wounded officers, after attending to their masters, had
+supper, fed the horses, and came out into the porches.
+
+In a neighboring hut lay Raevski's adjutant with a fractured wrist. The
+awful pain he suffered made him moan incessantly and piteously, and his
+moaning sounded terrible in the darkness of the autumn night. He had
+spent the first night in the same yard as the Rostovs. The countess said
+she had been unable to close her eyes on account of his moaning, and at
+Mytishchi she moved into a worse hut simply to be farther away from the
+wounded man.
+
+In the darkness of the night one of the servants noticed, above the high
+body of a coach standing before the porch, the small glow of another
+fire. One glow had long been visible and everybody knew that it was
+Little Mytishchi burning--set on fire by Mamonov's Cossacks.
+
+"But look here, brothers, there's another fire!" remarked an orderly.
+
+All turned their attention to the glow.
+
+"But they told us Little Mytishchi had been set on fire by Mamonov's
+Cossacks."
+
+"But that's not Mytishchi, it's farther away."
+
+"Look, it must be in Moscow!"
+
+Two of the gazers went round to the other side of the coach and sat down
+on its steps.
+
+"It's more to the left, why, Little Mytishchi is over there, and this is
+right on the other side."
+
+Several men joined the first two.
+
+"See how it's flaring," said one. "That's a fire in Moscow: either in
+the Sushchevski or the Rogozhski quarter."
+
+No one replied to this remark and for some time they all gazed silently
+at the spreading flames of the second fire in the distance.
+
+Old Daniel Terentich, the count's valet (as he was called), came up to
+the group and shouted at Mishka.
+
+"What are you staring at, you good-for-nothing?... The count will be
+calling and there's nobody there; go and gather the clothes together."
+
+"I only ran out to get some water," said Mishka.
+
+"But what do you think, Daniel Terentich? Doesn't it look as if that
+glow were in Moscow?" remarked one of the footmen.
+
+Daniel Terentich made no reply, and again for a long time they were all
+silent. The glow spread, rising and falling, farther and farther still.
+
+"God have mercy.... It's windy and dry..." said another voice.
+
+"Just look! See what it's doing now. O Lord! You can even see the crows
+flying. Lord have mercy on us sinners!"
+
+"They'll put it out, no fear!"
+
+"Who's to put it out?" Daniel Terentich, who had hitherto been silent,
+was heard to say. His voice was calm and deliberate. "Moscow it is,
+brothers," said he. "Mother Moscow, the white..." his voice faltered,
+and he gave way to an old man's sob.
+
+And it was as if they had all only waited for this to realize the
+significance for them of the glow they were watching. Sighs were heard,
+words of prayer, and the sobbing of the count's old valet.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+The valet, returning to the cottage, informed the count that Moscow was
+burning. The count donned his dressing gown and went out to look. Sonya
+and Madame Schoss, who had not yet undressed, went out with him. Only
+Natasha and the countess remained in the room. Petya was no longer with
+the family, he had gone on with his regiment which was making for
+Troitsa.
+
+The countess, on hearing that Moscow was on fire, began to cry. Natasha,
+pale, with a fixed look, was sitting on the bench under the icons just
+where she had sat down on arriving and paid no attention to her father's
+words. She was listening to the ceaseless moaning of the adjutant, three
+houses off.
+
+"Oh, how terrible," said Sonya returning from the yard chilled and
+frightened. "I believe the whole of Moscow will burn, there's an awful
+glow! Natasha, do look! You can see it from the window," she said to her
+cousin, evidently wishing to distract her mind.
+
+But Natasha looked at her as if not understanding what was said to her
+and again fixed her eyes on the corner of the stove. She had been in
+this condition of stupor since the morning, when Sonya, to the surprise
+and annoyance of the countess, had for some unaccountable reason found
+it necessary to tell Natasha of Prince Andrew's wound and of his being
+with their party. The countess had seldom been so angry with anyone as
+she was with Sonya. Sonya had cried and begged to be forgiven and now,
+as if trying to atone for her fault, paid unceasing attention to her
+cousin.
+
+"Look, Natasha, how dreadfully it is burning!" said she.
+
+"What's burning?" asked Natasha. "Oh, yes, Moscow."
+
+And as if in order not to offend Sonya and to get rid of her, she turned
+her face to the window, looked out in such a way that it was evident
+that she could not see anything, and again settled down in her former
+attitude.
+
+"But you didn't see it!"
+
+"Yes, really I did," Natasha replied in a voice that pleaded to be left
+in peace.
+
+Both the countess and Sonya understood that, naturally, neither Moscow
+nor the burning of Moscow nor anything else could seem of importance to
+Natasha.
+
+The count returned and lay down behind the partition. The countess went
+up to her daughter and touched her head with the back of her hand as she
+was wont to do when Natasha was ill, then touched her forehead with her
+lips as if to feel whether she was feverish, and finally kissed her.
+
+"You are cold. You are trembling all over. You'd better lie down," said
+the countess.
+
+"Lie down? All right, I will. I'll lie down at once," said Natasha.
+
+When Natasha had been told that morning that Prince Andrew was seriously
+wounded and was traveling with their party, she had at first asked many
+questions: Where was he going? How was he wounded? Was it serious? And
+could she see him? But after she had been told that she could not see
+him, that he was seriously wounded but that his life was not in danger,
+she ceased to ask questions or to speak at all, evidently disbelieving
+what they told her, and convinced that say what she might she would
+still be told the same. All the way she had sat motionless in a corner
+of the coach with wide open eyes, and the expression in them which the
+countess knew so well and feared so much, and now she sat in the same
+way on the bench where she had seated herself on arriving. She was
+planning something and either deciding or had already decided something
+in her mind. The countess knew this, but what it might be she did not
+know, and this alarmed and tormented her.
+
+"Natasha, undress, darling; lie down on my bed."
+
+A bed had been made on a bedstead for the countess only. Madame Schoss
+and the two girls were to sleep on some hay on the floor.
+
+"No, Mamma, I will lie down here on the floor," Natasha replied
+irritably and she went to the window and opened it. Through the open
+window the moans of the adjutant could be heard more distinctly. She put
+her head out into the damp night air, and the countess saw her slim neck
+shaking with sobs and throbbing against the window frame. Natasha knew
+it was not Prince Andrew who was moaning. She knew Prince Andrew was in
+the same yard as themselves and in a part of the hut across the passage;
+but this dreadful incessant moaning made her sob. The countess exchanged
+a look with Sonya.
+
+"Lie down, darling; lie down, my pet," said the countess, softly
+touching Natasha's shoulders. "Come, lie down."
+
+"Oh, yes... I'll lie down at once," said Natasha, and began hurriedly
+undressing, tugging at the tapes of her petticoat.
+
+When she had thrown off her dress and put on a dressing jacket, she sat
+down with her foot under her on the bed that had been made up on the
+floor, jerked her thin and rather short plait of hair to the front, and
+began replaiting it. Her long, thin, practiced fingers rapidly
+unplaited, replaited, and tied up her plait. Her head moved from side to
+side from habit, but her eyes, feverishly wide, looked fixedly before
+her. When her toilet for the night was finished she sank gently onto the
+sheet spread over the hay on the side nearest the door.
+
+"Natasha, you'd better lie in the middle," said Sonya.
+
+"I'll stay here," muttered Natasha. "Do lie down," she added crossly,
+and buried her face in the pillow.
+
+The countess, Madame Schoss, and Sonya undressed hastily and lay down.
+The small lamp in front of the icons was the only light left in the
+room. But in the yard there was a light from the fire at Little
+Mytishchi a mile and a half away, and through the night came the noise
+of people shouting at a tavern Mamonov's Cossacks had set up across the
+street, and the adjutant's unceasing moans could still be heard.
+
+For a long time Natasha listened attentively to the sounds that reached
+her from inside and outside the room and did not move. First she heard
+her mother praying and sighing and the creaking of her bed under her,
+then Madame Schoss' familiar whistling snore and Sonya's gentle
+breathing. Then the countess called to Natasha. Natasha did not answer.
+
+"I think she's asleep, Mamma," said Sonya softly.
+
+After a short silence the countess spoke again but this time no one
+replied.
+
+Soon after that Natasha heard her mother's even breathing. Natasha did
+not move, though her little bare foot, thrust out from under the quilt,
+was growing cold on the bare floor.
+
+As if to celebrate a victory over everybody, a cricket chirped in a
+crack in the wall. A cock crowed far off and another replied near by.
+The shouting in the tavern had died down; only the moaning of the
+adjutant was heard. Natasha sat up.
+
+"Sonya, are you asleep? Mamma?" she whispered.
+
+No one replied. Natasha rose slowly and carefully, crossed herself, and
+stepped cautiously on the cold and dirty floor with her slim, supple,
+bare feet. The boards of the floor creaked. Stepping cautiously from one
+foot to the other she ran like a kitten the few steps to the door and
+grasped the cold door handle.
+
+It seemed to her that something heavy was beating rhythmically against
+all the walls of the room: it was her own heart, sinking with alarm and
+terror and overflowing with love.
+
+She opened the door and stepped across the threshold and onto the cold,
+damp earthen floor of the passage. The cold she felt refreshed her. With
+her bare feet she touched a sleeping man, stepped over him, and opened
+the door into the part of the hut where Prince Andrew lay. It was dark
+in there. In the farthest corner, on a bench beside a bed on which
+something was lying, stood a tallow candle with a long, thick, and
+smoldering wick.
+
+From the moment she had been told that morning of Prince Andrew's wound
+and his presence there, Natasha had resolved to see him. She did not
+know why she had to, she knew the meeting would be painful, but felt the
+more convinced that it was necessary.
+
+All day she had lived only in hope of seeing him that night. But now
+that the moment had come she was filled with dread of what she might
+see. How was he maimed? What was left of him? Was he like that incessant
+moaning of the adjutant's? Yes, he was altogether like that. In her
+imagination he was that terrible moaning personified. When she saw an
+indistinct shape in the corner, and mistook his knees raised under the
+quilt for his shoulders, she imagined a horrible body there, and stood
+still in terror. But an irresistible impulse drew her forward. She
+cautiously took one step and then another, and found herself in the
+middle of a small room containing baggage. Another man--Timokhin--was
+lying in a corner on the benches beneath the icons, and two others--the
+doctor and a valet--lay on the floor.
+
+The valet sat up and whispered something. Timokhin, kept awake by the
+pain in his wounded leg, gazed with wide-open eyes at this strange
+apparition of a girl in a white chemise, dressing jacket, and nightcap.
+The valet's sleepy, frightened exclamation, "What do you want? What's
+the matter?" made Natasha approach more swiftly to what was lying in the
+corner. Horribly unlike a man as that body looked, she must see him. She
+passed the valet, the snuff fell from the candle wick, and she saw
+Prince Andrew clearly with his arms outside the quilt, and such as she
+had always seen him.
+
+He was the same as ever, but the feverish color of his face, his
+glittering eyes rapturously turned toward her, and especially his neck,
+delicate as a child's, revealed by the turn-down collar of his shirt,
+gave him a peculiarly innocent, childlike look, such as she had never
+seen on him before. She went up to him and with a swift, flexible,
+youthful movement dropped on her knees.
+
+He smiled and held out his hand to her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII
+
+Seven days had passed since Prince Andrew found himself in the ambulance
+station on the field of Borodino. His feverish state and the
+inflammation of his bowels, which were injured, were in the doctor's
+opinion sure to carry him off. But on the seventh day he ate with
+pleasure a piece of bread with some tea, and the doctor noticed that his
+temperature was lower. He had regained consciousness that morning. The
+first night after they left Moscow had been fairly warm and he had
+remained in the caleche, but at Mytishchi the wounded man himself asked
+to be taken out and given some tea. The pain caused by his removal into
+the hut had made him groan aloud and again lose consciousness. When he
+had been placed on his camp bed he lay for a long time motionless with
+closed eyes. Then he opened them and whispered softly: "And the tea?"
+His remembering such a small detail of everyday life astonished the
+doctor. He felt Prince Andrew's pulse, and to his surprise and
+dissatisfaction found it had improved. He was dissatisfied because he
+knew by experience that if his patient did not die now, he would do so a
+little later with greater suffering. Timokhin, the red-nosed major of
+Prince Andrew's regiment, had joined him in Moscow and was being taken
+along with him, having been wounded in the leg at the battle of
+Borodino. They were accompanied by a doctor, Prince Andrew's valet, his
+coachman, and two orderlies.
+
+They gave Prince Andrew some tea. He drank it eagerly, looking with
+feverish eyes at the door in front of him as if trying to understand and
+remember something.
+
+"I don't want any more. Is Timokhin here?" he asked.
+
+Timokhin crept along the bench to him.
+
+"I am here, your excellency."
+
+"How's your wound?"
+
+"Mine, sir? All right. But how about you?"
+
+Prince Andrew again pondered as if trying to remember something.
+
+"Couldn't one get a book?" he asked.
+
+"What book?"
+
+"The Gospels. I haven't one."
+
+The doctor promised to procure it for him and began to ask how he was
+feeling. Prince Andrew answered all his questions reluctantly but
+reasonably, and then said he wanted a bolster placed under him as he was
+uncomfortable and in great pain. The doctor and valet lifted the cloak
+with which he was covered and, making wry faces at the noisome smell of
+mortifying flesh that came from the wound, began examining that dreadful
+place. The doctor was very much displeased about something and made a
+change in the dressings, turning the wounded man over so that he groaned
+again and grew unconscious and delirious from the agony. He kept asking
+them to get him the book and put it under him.
+
+"What trouble would it be to you?" he said. "I have not got one. Please
+get it for me and put it under for a moment," he pleaded in a piteous
+voice.
+
+The doctor went into the passage to wash his hands.
+
+"You fellows have no conscience," said he to the valet who was pouring
+water over his hands. "For just one moment I didn't look after you...
+It's such pain, you know, that I wonder how he can bear it."
+
+"By the Lord Jesus Christ, I thought we had put something under him!"
+said the valet.
+
+The first time Prince Andrew understood where he was and what was the
+matter with him and remembered being wounded and how was when he asked
+to be carried into the hut after his caleche had stopped at Mytishchi.
+After growing confused from pain while being carried into the hut he
+again regained consciousness, and while drinking tea once more recalled
+all that had happened to him, and above all vividly remembered the
+moment at the ambulance station when, at the sight of the sufferings of
+a man he disliked, those new thoughts had come to him which promised him
+happiness. And those thoughts, though now vague and indefinite, again
+possessed his soul. He remembered that he had now a new source of
+happiness and that this happiness had something to do with the Gospels.
+That was why he asked for a copy of them. The uncomfortable position in
+which they had put him and turned him over again confused his thoughts,
+and when he came to himself a third time it was in the complete
+stillness of the night. Everybody near him was sleeping. A cricket
+chirped from across the passage; someone was shouting and singing in the
+street; cockroaches rustled on the table, on the icons, and on the
+walls, and a big fly flopped at the head of the bed and around the
+candle beside him, the wick of which was charred and had shaped itself
+like a mushroom.
+
+His mind was not in a normal state. A healthy man usually thinks of,
+feels, and remembers innumerable things simultaneously, but has the
+power and will to select one sequence of thoughts or events on which to
+fix his whole attention. A healthy man can tear himself away from the
+deepest reflections to say a civil word to someone who comes in and can
+then return again to his own thoughts. But Prince Andrew's mind was not
+in a normal state in that respect. All the powers of his mind were more
+active and clearer than ever, but they acted apart from his will. Most
+diverse thoughts and images occupied him simultaneously. At times his
+brain suddenly began to work with a vigor, clearness, and depth it had
+never reached when he was in health, but suddenly in the midst of its
+work it would turn to some unexpected idea and he had not the strength
+to turn it back again.
+
+"Yes, a new happiness was revealed to me of which man cannot be
+deprived," he thought as he lay in the semidarkness of the quiet hut,
+gazing fixedly before him with feverish wide open eyes. "A happiness
+lying beyond material forces, outside the material influences that act
+on man--a happiness of the soul alone, the happiness of loving. Every
+man can understand it, but to conceive it and enjoin it was possible
+only for God. But how did God enjoin that law? And why was the Son...?"
+
+And suddenly the sequence of these thoughts broke off, and Prince Andrew
+heard (without knowing whether it was a delusion or reality) a soft
+whispering voice incessantly and rhythmically repeating "piti-piti-
+piti," and then "titi," and then again "piti-piti-piti," and "ti-ti"
+once more. At the same time he felt that above his face, above the very
+middle of it, some strange airy structure was being erected out of
+slender needles or splinters, to the sound of this whispered music. He
+felt that he had to balance carefully (though it was difficult) so that
+this airy structure should not collapse; but nevertheless it kept
+collapsing and again slowly rising to the sound of whispered rhythmic
+music--"it stretches, stretches, spreading out and stretching," said
+Prince Andrew to himself. While listening to this whispering and feeling
+the sensation of this drawing out and the construction of this edifice
+of needles, he also saw by glimpses a red halo round the candle, and
+heard the rustle of the cockroaches and the buzzing of the fly that
+flopped against his pillow and his face. Each time the fly touched his
+face it gave him a burning sensation and yet to his surprise it did not
+destroy the structure, though it knocked against the very region of his
+face where it was rising. But besides this there was something else of
+importance. It was something white by the door--the statue of a sphinx,
+which also oppressed him.
+
+"But perhaps that's my shirt on the table," he thought, "and that's my
+legs, and that is the door, but why is it always stretching and drawing
+itself out, and 'piti-piti-piti' and 'ti-ti' and 'piti-piti-piti'...?
+That's enough, please leave off!" Prince Andrew painfully entreated
+someone. And suddenly thoughts and feelings again swam to the surface of
+his mind with peculiar clearness and force.
+
+"Yes--love," he thought again quite clearly. "But not love which loves
+for something, for some quality, for some purpose, or for some reason,
+but the love which I--while dying--first experienced when I saw my enemy
+and yet loved him. I experienced that feeling of love which is the very
+essence of the soul and does not require an object. Now again I feel
+that bliss. To love one's neighbors, to love one's enemies, to love
+everything, to love God in all His manifestations. It is possible to
+love someone dear to you with human love, but an enemy can only be loved
+by divine love. That is why I experienced such joy when I felt that I
+loved that man. What has become of him? Is he alive?...
+
+"When loving with human love one may pass from love to hatred, but
+divine love cannot change. No, neither death nor anything else can
+destroy it. It is the very essence of the soul. Yet how many people have
+I hated in my life? And of them all, I loved and hated none as I did
+her." And he vividly pictured to himself Natasha, not as he had done in
+the past with nothing but her charms which gave him delight, but for the
+first time picturing to himself her soul. And he understood her
+feelings, her sufferings, shame, and remorse. He now understood for the
+first time all the cruelty of his rejection of her, the cruelty of his
+rupture with her. "If only it were possible for me to see her once more!
+Just once, looking into those eyes to say..."
+
+"Piti-piti-piti and ti-ti and piti-piti-piti boom!" flopped the fly...
+And his attention was suddenly carried into another world, a world of
+reality and delirium in which something particular was happening. In
+that world some structure was still being erected and did not fall,
+something was still stretching out, and the candle with its red halo was
+still burning, and the same shirtlike sphinx lay near the door; but
+besides all this something creaked, there was a whiff of fresh air, and
+a new white sphinx appeared, standing at the door. And that sphinx had
+the pale face and shining eyes of the very Natasha of whom he had just
+been thinking.
+
+"Oh, how oppressive this continual delirium is," thought Prince Andrew,
+trying to drive that face from his imagination. But the face remained
+before him with the force of reality and drew nearer. Prince Andrew
+wished to return to that former world of pure thought, but he could not,
+and delirium drew him back into its domain. The soft whispering voice
+continued its rhythmic murmur, something oppressed him and stretched
+out, and the strange face was before him. Prince Andrew collected all
+his strength in an effort to recover his senses, he moved a little, and
+suddenly there was a ringing in his ears, a dimness in his eyes, and
+like a man plunged into water he lost consciousness. When he came to
+himself, Natasha, that same living Natasha whom of all people he most
+longed to love with this new pure divine love that had been revealed to
+him, was kneeling before him. He realized that it was the real living
+Natasha, and he was not surprised but quietly happy. Natasha, motionless
+on her knees (she was unable to stir), with frightened eyes riveted on
+him, was restraining her sobs. Her face was pale and rigid. Only in the
+lower part of it something quivered.
+
+Prince Andrew sighed with relief, smiled, and held out his hand.
+
+"You?" he said. "How fortunate!"
+
+With a rapid but careful movement Natasha drew nearer to him on her
+knees and, taking his hand carefully, bent her face over it and began
+kissing it, just touching it lightly with her lips.
+
+"Forgive me!" she whispered, raising her head and glancing at him.
+"Forgive me!"
+
+"I love you," said Prince Andrew.
+
+"Forgive...!"
+
+"Forgive what?" he asked.
+
+"Forgive me for what I ha-ve do-ne!" faltered Natasha in a scarcely
+audible, broken whisper, and began kissing his hand more rapidly, just
+touching it with her lips.
+
+"I love you more, better than before," said Prince Andrew, lifting her
+face with his hand so as to look into her eyes.
+
+Those eyes, filled with happy tears, gazed at him timidly,
+compassionately, and with joyous love. Natasha's thin pale face, with
+its swollen lips, was more than plain--it was dreadful. But Prince
+Andrew did not see that, he saw her shining eyes which were beautiful.
+They heard the sound of voices behind them.
+
+Peter the valet, who was now wide awake, had roused the doctor.
+Timokhin, who had not slept at all because of the pain in his leg, had
+long been watching all that was going on, carefully covering his bare
+body with the sheet as he huddled up on his bench.
+
+"What's this?" said the doctor, rising from his bed. "Please go away,
+madam!"
+
+At that moment a maid sent by the countess, who had noticed her
+daughter's absence, knocked at the door.
+
+Like a somnambulist aroused from her sleep Natasha went out of the room
+and, returning to her hut, fell sobbing on her bed.
+
+From that time, during all the rest of the Rostovs' journey, at every
+halting place and wherever they spent a night, Natasha never left the
+wounded Bolkonski, and the doctor had to admit that he had not expected
+from a young girl either such firmness or such skill in nursing a
+wounded man.
+
+Dreadful as the countess imagined it would be should Prince Andrew die
+in her daughter's arms during the journey--as, judging by what the
+doctor said, it seemed might easily happen--she could not oppose
+Natasha. Though with the intimacy now established between the wounded
+man and Natasha the thought occurred that should he recover their former
+engagement would be renewed, no one--least of all Natasha and Prince
+Andrew--spoke of this: the unsettled question of life and death, which
+hung not only over Bolkonski but over all Russia, shut out all other
+considerations.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII
+
+On the third of September Pierre awoke late. His head was aching, the
+clothes in which he had slept without undressing felt uncomfortable on
+his body, and his mind had a dim consciousness of something shameful he
+had done the day before. That something shameful was his yesterday's
+conversation with Captain Ramballe.
+
+It was eleven by the clock, but it seemed peculiarly dark out of doors.
+Pierre rose, rubbed his eyes, and seeing the pistol with an engraved
+stock which Gerasim had replaced on the writing table, he remembered
+where he was and what lay before him that very day.
+
+"Am I not too late?" he thought. "No, probably he won't make his entry
+into Moscow before noon."
+
+Pierre did not allow himself to reflect on what lay before him, but
+hastened to act.
+
+After arranging his clothes, he took the pistol and was about to go out.
+But it then occurred to him for the first time that he certainly could
+not carry the weapon in his hand through the streets. It was difficult
+to hide such a big pistol even under his wide coat. He could not carry
+it unnoticed in his belt or under his arm. Besides, it had been
+discharged, and he had not had time to reload it. "No matter, dagger
+will do," he said to himself, though when planning his design he had
+more than once come to the conclusion that the chief mistake made by the
+student in 1809 had been to try to kill Napoleon with a dagger. But as
+his chief aim consisted not in carrying out his design, but in proving
+to himself that he would not abandon his intention and was doing all he
+could to achieve it, Pierre hastily took the blunt jagged dagger in a
+green sheath which he had bought at the Sukharev market with the pistol,
+and hid it under his waistcoat.
+
+Having tied a girdle over his coat and pulled his cap low on his head,
+Pierre went down the corridor, trying to avoid making a noise or meeting
+the captain, and passed out into the street.
+
+The conflagration, at which he had looked with so much indifference the
+evening before, had greatly increased during the night. Moscow was on
+fire in several places. The buildings in Carriage Row, across the river,
+in the Bazaar and the Povarskoy, as well as the barges on the Moskva
+River and the timber yards by the Dorogomilov Bridge, were all ablaze.
+
+Pierre's way led through side streets to the Povarskoy and from there to
+the church of St. Nicholas on the Arbat, where he had long before
+decided that the deed should be done. The gates of most of the houses
+were locked and the shutters up. The streets and lanes were deserted.
+The air was full of smoke and the smell of burning. Now and then he met
+Russians with anxious and timid faces, and Frenchmen with an air not of
+the city but of the camp, walking in the middle of the streets. Both the
+Russians and the French looked at Pierre with surprise. Besides his
+height and stoutness, and the strange morose look of suffering in his
+face and whole figure, the Russians stared at Pierre because they could
+not make out to what class he could belong. The French followed him with
+astonishment in their eyes chiefly because Pierre, unlike all the other
+Russians who gazed at the French with fear and curiosity, paid no
+attention to them. At the gate of one house three Frenchmen, who were
+explaining something to some Russians who did not understand them,
+stopped Pierre asking if he did not know French.
+
+Pierre shook his head and went on. In another side street a sentinel
+standing beside a green caisson shouted at him, but only when the shout
+was threateningly repeated and he heard the click of the man's musket as
+he raised it did Pierre understand that he had to pass on the other side
+of the street. He heard nothing and saw nothing of what went on around
+him. He carried his resolution within himself in terror and haste, like
+something dreadful and alien to him, for, after the previous night's
+experience, he was afraid of losing it. But he was not destined to bring
+his mood safely to his destination. And even had he not been hindered by
+anything on the way, his intention could not now have been carried out,
+for Napoleon had passed the Arbat more than four hours previously on his
+way from the Dorogomilov suburb to the Kremlin, and was now sitting in a
+very gloomy frame of mind in a royal study in the Kremlin, giving
+detailed and exact orders as to measures to be taken immediately to
+extinguish the fire, to prevent looting, and to reassure the
+inhabitants. But Pierre did not know this; he was entirely absorbed in
+what lay before him, and was tortured--as those are who obstinately
+undertake a task that is impossible for them not because of its
+difficulty but because of its incompatibility with their natures--by the
+fear of weakening at the decisive moment and so losing his self-esteem.
+
+Though he heard and saw nothing around him he found his way by instinct
+and did not go wrong in the side streets that led to the Povarskoy.
+
+As Pierre approached that street the smoke became denser and denser--he
+even felt the heat of the fire. Occasionally curly tongues of flame rose
+from under the roofs of the houses. He met more people in the streets
+and they were more excited. But Pierre, though he felt that something
+unusual was happening around him, did not realize that he was
+approaching the fire. As he was going along a foot path across a wide-
+open space adjoining the Povarskoy on one side and the gardens of Prince
+Gruzinski's house on the other, Pierre suddenly heard the desperate
+weeping of a woman close to him. He stopped as if awakening from a dream
+and lifted his head.
+
+By the side of the path, on the dusty dry grass, all sorts of household
+goods lay in a heap: featherbeds, a samovar, icons, and trunks. On the
+ground, beside the trunks, sat a thin woman no longer young, with long,
+prominent upper teeth, and wearing a black cloak and cap. This woman,
+swaying to and fro and muttering something, was choking with sobs. Two
+girls of about ten and twelve, dressed in dirty short frocks and cloaks,
+were staring at their mother with a look of stupefaction on their pale
+frightened faces. The youngest child, a boy of about seven, who wore an
+overcoat and an immense cap evidently not his own, was crying in his old
+nurse's arms. A dirty, barefooted maid was sitting on a trunk, and,
+having undone her pale-colored plait, was pulling it straight and
+sniffing at her singed hair. The woman's husband, a short, round-
+shouldered man in the undress uniform of a civilian official, with
+sausage-shaped whiskers and showing under his square-set cap the hair
+smoothly brushed forward over his temples, with expressionless face was
+moving the trunks, which were placed one on another, and was dragging
+some garments from under them.
+
+As soon as she saw Pierre, the woman almost threw herself at his feet.
+
+"Dear people, good Christians, save me, help me, dear friends... help
+us, somebody," she muttered between her sobs. "My girl... My daughter!
+My youngest daughter is left behind. She's burned! Ooh! Was it for this
+I nursed you.... Ooh!"
+
+"Don't, Mary Nikolievna!" said her husband to her in a low voice,
+evidently only to justify himself before the stranger. "Sister must have
+taken her, or else where can she be?" he added.
+
+"Monster! Villain!" shouted the woman angrily, suddenly ceasing to weep.
+"You have no heart, you don't feel for your own child! Another man would
+have rescued her from the fire. But this is a monster and neither a man
+nor a father! You, honored sir, are a noble man," she went on,
+addressing Pierre rapidly between her sobs. "The fire broke out
+alongside, and blew our way, the maid called out 'Fire!' and we rushed
+to collect our things. We ran out just as we were.... This is what we
+have brought away.... The icons, and my dowry bed, all the rest is lost.
+We seized the children. But not Katie! Ooh! O Lord!..." and again she
+began to sob. "My child, my dear one! Burned, burned!"
+
+"But where was she left?" asked Pierre.
+
+From the expression of his animated face the woman saw that this man
+might help her.
+
+"Oh, dear sir!" she cried, seizing him by the legs. "My benefactor, set
+my heart at ease.... Aniska, go, you horrid girl, show him the way!" she
+cried to the maid, angrily opening her mouth and still farther exposing
+her long teeth.
+
+"Show me the way, show me, I... I'll do it," gasped Pierre rapidly.
+
+The dirty maidservant stepped from behind the trunk, put up her plait,
+sighed, and went on her short, bare feet along the path. Pierre felt as
+if he had come back to life after a heavy swoon. He held his head
+higher, his eyes shone with the light of life, and with swift steps he
+followed the maid, overtook her, and came out on the Povarskoy. The
+whole street was full of clouds of black smoke. Tongues of flame here
+and there broke through that cloud. A great number of people crowded in
+front of the conflagration. In the middle of the street stood a French
+general saying something to those around him. Pierre, accompanied by the
+maid, was advancing to the spot where the general stood, but the French
+soldiers stopped him.
+
+"On ne passe pas!" * cried a voice.
+
+
+* "You can't pass!"
+
+"This way, uncle," cried the girl. "We'll pass through the side street,
+by the Nikulins'!"
+
+Pierre turned back, giving a spring now and then to keep up with her.
+She ran across the street, turned down a side street to the left, and,
+passing three houses, turned into a yard on the right.
+
+"It's here, close by," said she and, running across the yard, opened a
+gate in a wooden fence and, stopping, pointed out to him a small wooden
+wing of the house, which was burning brightly and fiercely. One of its
+sides had fallen in, another was on fire, and bright flames issued from
+the openings of the windows and from under the roof.
+
+As Pierre passed through the fence gate, he was enveloped by hot air and
+involuntarily stopped.
+
+"Which is it? Which is your house?" he asked.
+
+"Ooh!" wailed the girl, pointing to the wing. "That's it, that was our
+lodging. You've burned to death, our treasure, Katie, my precious little
+missy! Ooh!" lamented Aniska, who at the sight of the fire felt that she
+too must give expression to her feelings.
+
+Pierre rushed to the wing, but the heat was so great that he
+involuntarily passed round in a curve and came upon the large house that
+was as yet burning only at one end, just below the roof, and around
+which swarmed a crowd of Frenchmen. At first Pierre did not realize what
+these men, who were dragging something out, were about; but seeing
+before him a Frenchman hitting a peasant with a blunt saber and trying
+to take from him a fox-fur coat, he vaguely understood that looting was
+going on there, but he had no time to dwell on that idea.
+
+The sounds of crackling and the din of falling walls and ceilings, the
+whistle and hiss of the flames, the excited shouts of the people, and
+the sight of the swaying smoke, now gathering into thick black clouds
+and now soaring up with glittering sparks, with here and there dense
+sheaves of flame (now red and now like golden fish scales creeping along
+the walls), and the heat and smoke and rapidity of motion, produced on
+Pierre the usual animating effects of a conflagration. It had a
+peculiarly strong effect on him because at the sight of the fire he felt
+himself suddenly freed from the ideas that had weighed him down. He felt
+young, bright, adroit, and resolute. He ran round to the other side of
+the lodge and was about to dash into that part of it which was still
+standing, when just above his head he heard several voices shouting and
+then a cracking sound and the ring of something heavy falling close
+beside him.
+
+Pierre looked up and saw at a window of the large house some Frenchmen
+who had just thrown out the drawer of a chest, filled with metal
+articles. Other French soldiers standing below went up to the drawer.
+
+"What does this fellow want?" shouted one of them referring to Pierre.
+
+"There's a child in that house. Haven't you seen a child?" cried Pierre.
+
+"What's he talking about? Get along!" said several voices, and one of
+the soldiers, evidently afraid that Pierre might want to take from them
+some of the plate and bronzes that were in the drawer, moved
+threateningly toward him.
+
+"A child?" shouted a Frenchman from above. "I did hear something
+squealing in the garden. Perhaps it's his brat that the fellow is
+looking for. After all, one must be human, you know...."
+
+"Where is it? Where?" said Pierre.
+
+"There! There!" shouted the Frenchman at the window, pointing to the
+garden at the back of the house. "Wait a bit--I'm coming down."
+
+And a minute or two later the Frenchman, a black-eyed fellow with a spot
+on his cheek, in shirt sleeves, really did jump out of a window on the
+ground floor, and clapping Pierre on the shoulder ran with him into the
+garden.
+
+"Hurry up, you others!" he called out to his comrades. "It's getting
+hot."
+
+When they reached a gravel path behind the house the Frenchman pulled
+Pierre by the arm and pointed to a round, graveled space where a three-
+year-old girl in a pink dress was lying under a seat.
+
+"There is your child! Oh, a girl, so much the better!" said the
+Frenchman. "Good-bye, Fatty. We must be human, we are all mortal you
+know!" and the Frenchman with the spot on his cheek ran back to his
+comrades.
+
+Breathless with joy, Pierre ran to the little girl and was going to take
+her in his arms. But seeing a stranger the sickly, scrofulous-looking
+child, unattractively like her mother, began to yell and run away.
+Pierre, however, seized her and lifted her in his arms. She screamed
+desperately and angrily and tried with her little hands to pull Pierre's
+hands away and to bite them with her slobbering mouth. Pierre was seized
+by a sense of horror and repulsion such as he had experienced when
+touching some nasty little animal. But he made an effort not to throw
+the child down and ran with her to the large house. It was now, however,
+impossible to get back the way he had come; the maid, Aniska, was no
+longer there, and Pierre with a feeling of pity and disgust pressed the
+wet, painfully sobbing child to himself as tenderly as he could and ran
+with her through the garden seeking another way out.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV
+
+Having run through different yards and side streets, Pierre got back
+with his little burden to the Gruzinski garden at the corner of the
+Povarskoy. He did not at first recognize the place from which he had set
+out to look for the child, so crowded was it now with people and goods
+that had been dragged out of the houses. Besides Russian families who
+had taken refuge here from the fire with their belongings, there were
+several French soldiers in a variety of clothing. Pierre took no notice
+of them. He hurried to find the family of that civil servant in order to
+restore the daughter to her mother and go to save someone else. Pierre
+felt that he had still much to do and to do quickly. Glowing with the
+heat and from running, he felt at that moment more strongly than ever
+the sense of youth, animation, and determination that had come on him
+when he ran to save the child. She had now become quiet and, clinging
+with her little hands to Pierre's coat, sat on his arm gazing about her
+like some little wild animal. He glanced at her occasionally with a
+slight smile. He fancied he saw something pathetically innocent in that
+frightened, sickly little face.
+
+He did not find the civil servant or his wife where he had left them. He
+walked among the crowd with rapid steps, scanning the various faces he
+met. Involuntarily he noticed a Georgian or Armenian family consisting
+of a very handsome old man of Oriental type, wearing a new, cloth-
+covered, sheepskin coat and new boots, an old woman of similar type, and
+a young woman. That very young woman seemed to Pierre the perfection of
+Oriental beauty, with her sharply outlined, arched, black eyebrows and
+the extraordinarily soft, bright color of her long, beautiful,
+expressionless face. Amid the scattered property and the crowd on the
+open space, she, in her rich satin cloak with a bright lilac shawl on
+her head, suggested a delicate exotic plant thrown out onto the snow.
+She was sitting on some bundles a little behind the old woman, and
+looked from under her long lashes with motionless, large, almond-shaped
+eyes at the ground before her. Evidently she was aware of her beauty and
+fearful because of it. Her face struck Pierre and, hurrying along by the
+fence, he turned several times to look at her. When he had reached the
+fence, still without finding those he sought, he stopped and looked
+about him.
+
+With the child in his arms his figure was now more conspicuous than
+before, and a group of Russians, both men and women, gathered about him.
+
+"Have you lost anyone, my dear fellow? You're of the gentry yourself,
+aren't you? Whose child is it?" they asked him.
+
+Pierre replied that the child belonged to a woman in a black coat who
+had been sitting there with her other children, and he asked whether
+anyone knew where she had gone.
+
+"Why, that must be the Anferovs," said an old deacon, addressing a
+pockmarked peasant woman. "Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy!" he added
+in his customary bass.
+
+"The Anferovs? No," said the woman. "They left in the morning. That must
+be either Mary Nikolievna's or the Ivanovs'!"
+
+"He says 'a woman,' and Mary Nikolievna is a lady," remarked a house
+serf.
+
+"Do you know her? She's thin, with long teeth," said Pierre.
+
+"That's Mary Nikolievna! They went inside the garden when these wolves
+swooped down," said the woman, pointing to the French soldiers.
+
+"O Lord, have mercy!" added the deacon.
+
+"Go over that way, they're there. It's she! She kept on lamenting and
+crying," continued the woman. "It's she. Here, this way!"
+
+But Pierre was not listening to the woman. He had for some seconds been
+intently watching what was going on a few steps away. He was looking at
+the Armenian family and at two French soldiers who had gone up to them.
+One of these, a nimble little man, was wearing a blue coat tied round
+the waist with a rope. He had a nightcap on his head and his feet were
+bare. The other, whose appearance particularly struck Pierre, was a
+long, lank, round-shouldered, fair-haired man, slow in his movements and
+with an idiotic expression of face. He wore a woman's loose gown of
+frieze, blue trousers, and large torn Hessian boots. The little
+barefooted Frenchman in the blue coat went up to the Armenians and,
+saying something, immediately seized the old man by his legs and the old
+man at once began pulling off his boots. The other in the frieze gown
+stopped in front of the beautiful Armenian girl and with his hands in
+his pockets stood staring at her, motionless and silent.
+
+"Here, take the child!" said Pierre peremptorily and hurriedly to the
+woman, handing the little girl to her. "Give her back to them, give her
+back!" he almost shouted, putting the child, who began screaming, on the
+ground, and again looking at the Frenchman and the Armenian family.
+
+The old man was already sitting barefoot. The little Frenchman had
+secured his second boot and was slapping one boot against the other. The
+old man was saying something in a voice broken by sobs, but Pierre
+caught but a glimpse of this, his whole attention was directed to the
+Frenchman in the frieze gown who meanwhile, swaying slowly from side to
+side, had drawn nearer to the young woman and taking his hands from his
+pockets had seized her by the neck.
+
+The beautiful Armenian still sat motionless and in the same attitude,
+with her long lashes drooping as if she did not see or feel what the
+soldier was doing to her.
+
+While Pierre was running the few steps that separated him from the
+Frenchman, the tall marauder in the frieze gown was already tearing from
+her neck the necklace the young Armenian was wearing, and the young
+woman, clutching at her neck, screamed piercingly.
+
+"Let that woman alone!" exclaimed Pierre hoarsely in a furious voice,
+seizing the soldier by his round shoulders and throwing him aside.
+
+The soldier fell, got up, and ran away. But his comrade, throwing down
+the boots and drawing his sword, moved threateningly toward Pierre.
+
+"Voyons, Pas de betises!" * he cried.
+
+
+* "Look here, no nonsense!"
+
+Pierre was in such a transport of rage that he remembered nothing and
+his strength increased tenfold. He rushed at the barefooted Frenchman
+and, before the latter had time to draw his sword, knocked him off his
+feet and hammered him with his fists. Shouts of approval were heard from
+the crowd around, and at the same moment a mounted patrol of French
+uhlans appeared from round the corner. The uhlans came up at a trot to
+Pierre and the Frenchman and surrounded them. Pierre remembered nothing
+of what happened after that. He only remembered beating someone and
+being beaten and finally feeling that his hands were bound and that a
+crowd of French soldiers stood around him and were searching him.
+
+"Lieutenant, he has a dagger," were the first words Pierre understood.
+
+"Ah, a weapon?" said the officer and turned to the barefooted soldier
+who had been arrested with Pierre. "All right, you can tell all about it
+at the court-martial." Then he turned to Pierre. "Do you speak French?"
+
+Pierre looked around him with bloodshot eyes and did not reply. His face
+probably looked very terrible, for the officer said something in a
+whisper and four more uhlans left the ranks and placed themselves on
+both sides of Pierre.
+
+"Do you speak French?" the officer asked again, keeping at a distance
+from Pierre. "Call the interpreter."
+
+A little man in Russian civilian clothes rode out from the ranks, and by
+his clothes and manner of speaking Pierre at once knew him to be a
+French salesman from one of the Moscow shops.
+
+"He does not look like a common man," said the interpreter, after a
+searching look at Pierre.
+
+"Ah, he looks very much like an incendiary," remarked the officer. "And
+ask him who he is," he added.
+
+"Who are you?" asked the interpreter in poor Russian. "You must answer
+the chief."
+
+"I will not tell you who I am. I am your prisoner--take me!" Pierre
+suddenly replied in French.
+
+"Ah, ah!" muttered the officer with a frown. "Well then, march!"
+
+A crowd had collected round the uhlans. Nearest to Pierre stood the
+pockmarked peasant woman with the little girl, and when the patrol
+started she moved forward.
+
+"Where are they taking you to, you poor dear?" said she. "And the little
+girl, the little girl, what am I to do with her if she's not theirs?"
+said the woman.
+
+"What does that woman want?" asked the officer.
+
+Pierre was as if intoxicated. His elation increased at the sight of the
+little girl he had saved.
+
+"What does she want?" he murmured. "She is bringing me my daughter whom
+I have just saved from the flames," said he. "Good-bye!" And without
+knowing how this aimless lie had escaped him, he went along with
+resolute and triumphant steps between the French soldiers.
+
+The French patrol was one of those sent out through the various streets
+of Moscow by Durosnel's order to put a stop to the pillage, and
+especially to catch the incendiaries who, according to the general
+opinion which had that day originated among the higher French officers,
+were the cause of the conflagrations. After marching through a number of
+streets the patrol arrested five more Russian suspects: a small
+shopkeeper, two seminary students, a peasant, and a house serf, besides
+several looters. But of all these various suspected characters, Pierre
+was considered to be the most suspicious of all. When they had all been
+brought for the night to a large house on the Zubov Rampart that was
+being used as a guardhouse, Pierre was placed apart under strict guard.
+
+BOOK TWELVE: 1812
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+In Petersburg at that time a complicated struggle was being carried on
+with greater heat than ever in the highest circles, between the parties
+of Rumyantsev, the French, Marya Fedorovna, the Tsarevich, and others,
+drowned as usual by the buzzing of the court drones. But the calm,
+luxurious life of Petersburg, concerned only about phantoms and
+reflections of real life, went on in its old way and made it hard,
+except by a great effort, to realize the danger and the difficult
+position of the Russian people. There were the same receptions and
+balls, the same French theater, the same court interests and service
+interests and intrigues as usual. Only in the very highest circles were
+attempts made to keep in mind the difficulties of the actual position.
+Stories were whispered of how differently the two Empresses behaved in
+these difficult circumstances. The Empress Marya, concerned for the
+welfare of the charitable and educational institutions under her
+patronage, had given directions that they should all be removed to
+Kazan, and the things belonging to these institutions had already been
+packed up. The Empress Elisabeth, however, when asked what instructions
+she would be pleased to give--with her characteristic Russian patriotism
+had replied that she could give no directions about state institutions
+for that was the affair of the sovereign, but as far as she personally
+was concerned she would be the last to quit Petersburg.
+
+At Anna Pavlovna's on the twenty-sixth of August, the very day of the
+battle of Borodino, there was a soiree, the chief feature of which was
+to be the reading of a letter from His Lordship the Bishop when sending
+the Emperor an icon of the Venerable Sergius. It was regarded as a model
+of ecclesiastical, patriotic eloquence. Prince Vasili himself, famed for
+his elocution, was to read it. (He used to read at the Empress'.) The
+art of his reading was supposed to lie in rolling out the words, quite
+independently of their meaning, in a loud and singsong voice alternating
+between a despairing wail and a tender murmur, so that the wail fell
+quite at random on one word and the murmur on another. This reading, as
+was always the case at Anna Pavlovna's soirees, had a political
+significance. That evening she expected several important personages who
+had to be made ashamed of their visits to the French theater and aroused
+to a patriotic temper. A good many people had already arrived, but Anna
+Pavlovna, not yet seeing all those whom she wanted in her drawing room,
+did not let the reading begin but wound up the springs of a general
+conversation.
+
+The news of the day in Petersburg was the illness of Countess Bezukhova.
+She had fallen ill unexpectedly a few days previously, had missed
+several gatherings of which she was usually ornament, and was said to be
+receiving no one, and instead of the celebrated Petersburg doctors who
+usually attended her had entrusted herself to some Italian doctor who
+was treating her in some new and unusual way.
+
+They all knew very well that the enchanting countess' illness arose from
+an inconvenience resulting from marrying two husbands at the same time,
+and that the Italian's cure consisted in removing such inconvenience;
+but in Anna Pavlovna's presence no one dared to think of this or even
+appear to know it.
+
+"They say the poor countess is very ill. The doctor says it is angina
+pectoris."
+
+"Angina? Oh, that's a terrible illness!"
+
+"They say that the rivals are reconciled, thanks to the angina..." and
+the word angina was repeated with great satisfaction.
+
+"The count is pathetic, they say. He cried like a child when the doctor
+told him the case was dangerous."
+
+"Oh, it would be a terrible loss, she is an enchanting woman."
+
+"You are speaking of the poor countess?" said Anna Pavlovna, coming up
+just then. "I sent to ask for news, and hear that she is a little
+better. Oh, she is certainly the most charming woman in the world," she
+went on, with a smile at her own enthusiasm. "We belong to different
+camps, but that does not prevent my esteeming her as she deserves. She
+is very unfortunate!" added Anna Pavlovna.
+
+Supposing that by these words Anna Pavlovna was somewhat lifting the
+veil from the secret of the countess' malady, an unwary young man
+ventured to express surprise that well known doctors had not been called
+in and that the countess was being attended by a charlatan who might
+employ dangerous remedies.
+
+"Your information may be better than mine," Anna Pavlovna suddenly and
+venomously retorted on the inexperienced young man, "but I know on good
+authority that this doctor is a very learned and able man. He is private
+physician to the Queen of Spain."
+
+And having thus demolished the young man, Anna Pavlovna turned to
+another group where Bilibin was talking about the Austrians: having
+wrinkled up his face he was evidently preparing to smooth it out again
+and utter one of his mots.
+
+"I think it is delightful," he said, referring to a diplomatic note that
+had been sent to Vienna with some Austrian banners captured from the
+French by Wittgenstein, "the hero of Petropol" as he was then called in
+Petersburg.
+
+"What? What's that?" asked Anna Pavlovna, securing silence for the mot,
+which she had heard before.
+
+And Bilibin repeated the actual words of the diplomatic dispatch, which
+he had himself composed.
+
+"The Emperor returns these Austrian banners," said Bilibin, "friendly
+banners gone astray and found on a wrong path," and his brow became
+smooth again.
+
+"Charming, charming!" observed Prince Vasili.
+
+"The path to Warsaw, perhaps," Prince Hippolyte remarked loudly and
+unexpectedly. Everybody looked at him, understanding what he meant.
+Prince Hippolyte himself glanced around with amused surprise. He knew no
+more than the others what his words meant. During his diplomatic career
+he had more than once noticed that such utterances were received as very
+witty, and at every opportunity he uttered in that way the first words
+that entered his head. "It may turn out very well," he thought, "but if
+not, they'll know how to arrange matters." And really, during the
+awkward silence that ensued, that insufficiently patriotic person
+entered whom Anna Pavlovna had been waiting for and wished to convert,
+and she, smiling and shaking a finger at Hippolyte, invited Prince
+Vasili to the table and bringing him two candles and the manuscript
+begged him to begin. Everyone became silent.
+
+"Most Gracious Sovereign and Emperor!" Prince Vasili sternly declaimed,
+looking round at his audience as if to inquire whether anyone had
+anything to say to the contrary. But no one said anything. "Moscow, our
+ancient capital, the New Jerusalem, receives her Christ"--he placed a
+sudden emphasis on the word her--"as a mother receives her zealous sons
+into her arms, and through the gathering mists, foreseeing the brilliant
+glory of thy rule, sings in exultation, 'Hosanna, blessed is he that
+cometh!'"
+
+Prince Vasili pronounced these last words in a tearful voice.
+
+Bilibin attentively examined his nails, and many of those present
+appeared intimidated, as if asking in what they were to blame. Anna
+Pavlovna whispered the next words in advance, like an old woman
+muttering the prayer at Communion: "Let the bold and insolent
+Goliath..." she whispered.
+
+Prince Vasili continued.
+
+"Let the bold and insolent Goliath from the borders of France encompass
+the realms of Russia with death-bearing terrors; humble Faith, the sling
+of the Russian David, shall suddenly smite his head in his bloodthirsty
+pride. This icon of the Venerable Sergius, the servant of God and
+zealous champion of old of our country's weal, is offered to Your
+Imperial Majesty. I grieve that my waning strength prevents rejoicing in
+the sight of your most gracious presence. I raise fervent prayers to
+Heaven that the Almighty may exalt the race of the just, and mercifully
+fulfill the desires of Your Majesty."
+
+"What force! What a style!" was uttered in approval both of reader and
+of author.
+
+Animated by that address Anna Pavlovna's guests talked for a long time
+of the state of the fatherland and offered various conjectures as to the
+result of the battle to be fought in a few days.
+
+"You will see," said Anna Pavlovna, "that tomorrow, on the Emperor's
+birthday, we shall receive news. I have a favorable presentiment!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+Anna Pavlovna's presentiment was in fact fulfilled. Next day during the
+service at the palace church in honor of the Emperor's birthday, Prince
+Volkonski was called out of the church and received a dispatch from
+Prince Kutuzov. It was Kutuzov's report, written from Tatarinova on the
+day of the battle. Kutuzov wrote that the Russians had not retreated a
+step, that the French losses were much heavier than ours, and that he
+was writing in haste from the field of battle before collecting full
+information. It followed that there must have been a victory. And at
+once, without leaving the church, thanks were rendered to the Creator
+for His help and for the victory.
+
+Anna Pavlovna's presentiment was justified, and all that morning a
+joyously festive mood reigned in the city. Everyone believed the victory
+to have been complete, and some even spoke of Napoleon's having been
+captured, of his deposition, and of the choice of a new ruler for
+France.
+
+It is very difficult for events to be reflected in their real strength
+and completeness amid the conditions of court life and far from the
+scene of action. General events involuntarily group themselves around
+some particular incident. So now the courtiers' pleasure was based as
+much on the fact that the news had arrived on the Emperor's birthday as
+on the fact of the victory itself. It was like a successfully arranged
+surprise. Mention was made in Kutuzov's report of the Russian losses,
+among which figured the names of Tuchkov, Bagration, and Kutaysov. In
+the Petersburg world this sad side of the affair again involuntarily
+centered round a single incident: Kutaysov's death. Everybody knew him,
+the Emperor liked him, and he was young and interesting. That day
+everyone met with the words:
+
+"What a wonderful coincidence! Just during the service. But what a loss
+Kutaysov is! How sorry I am!"
+
+"What did I tell about Kutuzov?" Prince Vasili now said with a prophet's
+pride. "I always said he was the only man capable of defeating
+Napoleon."
+
+But next day no news arrived from the army and the public mood grew
+anxious. The courtiers suffered because of the suffering the suspense
+occasioned the Emperor.
+
+"Fancy the Emperor's position!" said they, and instead of extolling
+Kutuzov as they had done the day before, they condemned him as the cause
+of the Emperor's anxiety. That day Prince Vasili no longer boasted of
+his protege Kutuzov, but remained silent when the commander-in-chief was
+mentioned. Moreover, toward evening, as if everything conspired to make
+Petersburg society anxious and uneasy, a terrible piece of news was
+added. Countess Helene Bezukhova had suddenly died of that terrible
+malady it had been so agreeable to mention. Officially, at large
+gatherings, everyone said that Countess Bezukhova had died of a terrible
+attack of angina pectoris, but in intimate circles details were
+mentioned of how the private physician of the Queen of Spain had
+prescribed small doses of a certain drug to produce a certain effect;
+but Helene, tortured by the fact that the old count suspected her and
+that her husband to whom she had written (that wretched, profligate
+Pierre) had not replied, had suddenly taken a very large dose of the
+drug, and had died in agony before assistance could be rendered her. It
+was said that Prince Vasili and the old count had turned upon the
+Italian, but the latter had produced such letters from the unfortunate
+deceased that they had immediately let the matter drop.
+
+Talk in general centered round three melancholy facts: the Emperor's
+lack of news, the loss of Kutaysov, and the death of Helene.
+
+On the third day after Kutuzov's report a country gentleman arrived from
+Moscow, and news of the surrender of Moscow to the French spread through
+the whole town. This was terrible! What a position for the Emperor to be
+in! Kutuzov was a traitor, and Prince Vasili during the visits of
+condolence paid to him on the occasion of his daughter's death said of
+Kutuzov, whom he had formerly praised (it was excusable for him in his
+grief to forget what he had said), that it was impossible to expect
+anything else from a blind and depraved old man.
+
+"I only wonder that the fate of Russia could have been entrusted to such
+a man."
+
+As long as this news remained unofficial it was possible to doubt it,
+but the next day the following communication was received from Count
+Rostopchin:
+
+Prince Kutuzov's adjutant has brought me a letter in which he demands
+police officers to guide the army to the Ryazan road. He writes that he
+is regretfully abandoning Moscow. Sire! Kutuzov's action decides the
+fate of the capital and of your empire! Russia will shudder to learn of
+the abandonment of the city in which her greatness is centered and in
+which lie the ashes of your ancestors! I shall follow the army. I have
+had everything removed, and it only remains for me to weep over the fate
+of my fatherland.
+
+On receiving this dispatch the Emperor sent Prince Volkonski to Kutuzov
+with the following rescript:
+
+Prince Michael Ilarionovich! Since the twenty-ninth of August I have
+received no communication from you, yet on the first of September I
+received from the commander-in-chief of Moscow, via Yaroslavl, the sad
+news that you, with the army, have decided to abandon Moscow. You can
+yourself imagine the effect this news has had on me, and your silence
+increases my astonishment. I am sending this by Adjutant-General Prince
+Volkonski, to hear from you the situation of the army and the reasons
+that have induced you to take this melancholy decision.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+Nine days after the abandonment of Moscow, a messenger from Kutuzov
+reached Petersburg with the official announcement of that event. This
+messenger was Michaud, a Frenchman who did not know Russian, but who was
+quoique etranger, russe de coeur et d'ame, * as he said of himself.
+
+
+* Though a foreigner, Russian in heart and soul.
+
+The Emperor at once received this messenger in his study at the palace
+on Stone Island. Michaud, who had never seen Moscow before the campaign
+and who did not know Russian, yet felt deeply moved (as he wrote) when
+he appeared before notre tres gracieux souverain * with the news of the
+burning of Moscow, dont les flammes eclairaient sa route. *(2)
+
+
+* Our most gracious sovereign.
+
+* (2) Whose flames illumined his route.
+
+Though the source of M. Michaud's chagrin must have been different from
+that which caused Russians to grieve, he had such a sad face when shown
+into the Emperor's study that the latter at once asked:
+
+"Have you brought me sad news, Colonel?"
+
+"Very sad, sire," replied Michaud, lowering his eyes with a sigh. "The
+abandonment of Moscow."
+
+"Have they surrendered my ancient capital without a battle?" asked the
+Emperor quickly, his face suddenly flushing.
+
+Michaud respectfully delivered the message Kutuzov had entrusted to him,
+which was that it had been impossible to fight before Moscow, and that
+as the only remaining choice was between losing the army as well as
+Moscow, or losing Moscow alone, the field marshal had to choose the
+latter.
+
+The Emperor listened in silence, not looking at Michaud.
+
+"Has the enemy entered the city?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, sire, and Moscow is now in ashes. I left it all in flames,"
+replied Michaud in a decided tone, but glancing at the Emperor he was
+frightened by what he had done.
+
+The Emperor began to breathe heavily and rapidly, his lower lip
+trembled, and tears instantly appeared in his fine blue eyes.
+
+But this lasted only a moment. He suddenly frowned, as if blaming
+himself for his weakness, and raising his head addressed Michaud in a
+firm voice:
+
+"I see, Colonel, from all that is happening, that Providence requires
+great sacrifices of us... I am ready to submit myself in all things to
+His will; but tell me, Michaud, how did you leave the army when it saw
+my ancient capital abandoned without a battle? Did you not notice
+discouragement?..."
+
+Seeing that his most gracious ruler was calm once more, Michaud also
+grew calm, but was not immediately ready to reply to the Emperor's
+direct and relevant question which required a direct answer.
+
+"Sire, will you allow me to speak frankly as befits a loyal soldier?" he
+asked to gain time.
+
+"Colonel, I always require it," replied the Emperor. "Conceal nothing
+from me, I wish to know absolutely how things are."
+
+"Sire!" said Michaud with a subtle, scarcely perceptible smile on his
+lips, having now prepared a well-phrased reply, "sire, I left the whole
+army, from its chiefs to the lowest soldier, without exception in
+desperate and agonized terror..."
+
+"How is that?" the Emperor interrupted him, frowning sternly. "Would
+misfortune make my Russians lose heart?... Never!"
+
+Michaud had only waited for this to bring out the phrase he had
+prepared.
+
+"Sire," he said, with respectful playfulness, "they are only afraid lest
+Your Majesty, in the goodness of your heart, should allow yourself to be
+persuaded to make peace. They are burning for the combat," declared this
+representative of the Russian nation, "and to prove to Your Majesty by
+the sacrifice of their lives how devoted they are...."
+
+"Ah!" said the Emperor reassured, and with a kindly gleam in his eyes,
+he patted Michaud on the shoulder. "You set me at ease, Colonel."
+
+He bent his head and was silent for some time.
+
+"Well, then, go back to the army," he said, drawing himself up to his
+full height and addressing Michaud with a gracious and majestic gesture,
+"and tell our brave men and all my good subjects wherever you go that
+when I have not a soldier left I shall put myself at the head of my
+beloved nobility and my good peasants and so use the last resources of
+my empire. It still offers me more than my enemies suppose," said the
+Emperor growing more and more animated; "but should it ever be ordained
+by Divine Providence," he continued, raising to heaven his fine eyes
+shining with emotion, "that my dynasty should cease to reign on the
+throne of my ancestors, then after exhausting all the means at my
+command, I shall let my beard grow to here" (he pointed halfway down his
+chest) "and go and eat potatoes with the meanest of my peasants, rather
+than sign the disgrace of my country and of my beloved people whose
+sacrifices I know how to appreciate."
+
+Having uttered these words in an agitated voice the Emperor suddenly
+turned away as if to hide from Michaud the tears that rose to his eyes,
+and went to the further end of his study. Having stood there a few
+moments, he strode back to Michaud and pressed his arm below the elbow
+with a vigorous movement. The Emperor's mild and handsome face was
+flushed and his eyes gleamed with resolution and anger.
+
+"Colonel Michaud, do not forget what I say to you here, perhaps we may
+recall it with pleasure someday... Napoleon or I," said the Emperor,
+touching his breast. "We can no longer both reign together. I have
+learned to know him, and he will not deceive me any more...."
+
+And the Emperor paused, with a frown.
+
+When he heard these words and saw the expression of firm resolution in
+the Emperor's eyes, Michaud--quoique etranger, russe de coeur et d'ame--
+at that solemn moment felt himself enraptured by all that he had heard
+(as he used afterwards to say), and gave expression to his own feelings
+and those of the Russian people whose representative he considered
+himself to be, in the following words:
+
+"Sire!" said he, "Your Majesty is at this moment signing the glory of
+the nation and the salvation of Europe!"
+
+With an inclination of the head the Emperor dismissed him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+It is natural for us who were not living in those days to imagine that
+when half Russia had been conquered and the inhabitants were fleeing to
+distant provinces, and one levy after another was being raised for the
+defense of the fatherland, all Russians from the greatest to the least
+were solely engaged in sacrificing themselves, saving their fatherland,
+or weeping over its downfall. The tales and descriptions of that time
+without exception speak only of the self-sacrifice, patriotic devotion,
+despair, grief, and the heroism of the Russians. But it was not really
+so. It appears so to us because we see only the general historic
+interest of that time and do not see all the personal human interests
+that people had. Yet in reality those personal interests of the moment
+so much transcend the general interests that they always prevent the
+public interest from being felt or even noticed. Most of the people at
+that time paid no attention to the general progress of events but were
+guided only by their private interests, and they were the very people
+whose activities at that period were most useful.
+
+Those who tried to understand the general course of events and to take
+part in it by self-sacrifice and heroism were the most useless members
+of society, they saw everything upside down, and all they did for the
+common good turned out to be useless and foolish--like Pierre's and
+Mamonov's regiments which looted Russian villages, and the lint the
+young ladies prepared and that never reached the wounded, and so on.
+Even those, fond of intellectual talk and of expressing their feelings,
+who discussed Russia's position at the time involuntarily introduced
+into their conversation either a shade of pretense and falsehood or
+useless condemnation and anger directed against people accused of
+actions no one could possibly be guilty of. In historic events the rule
+forbidding us to eat of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge is specially
+applicable. Only unconscious action bears fruit, and he who plays a part
+in an historic event never understands its significance. If he tries to
+realize it his efforts are fruitless.
+
+The more closely a man was engaged in the events then taking place in
+Russia the less did he realize their significance. In Petersburg and in
+the provinces at a distance from Moscow, ladies, and gentlemen in
+militia uniforms, wept for Russia and its ancient capital and talked of
+self-sacrifice and so on; but in the army which retired beyond Moscow
+there was little talk or thought of Moscow, and when they caught sight
+of its burned ruins no one swore to be avenged on the French, but they
+thought about their next pay, their next quarters, of Matreshka the
+vivandiere, and like matters.
+
+As the war had caught him in the service, Nicholas Rostov took a close
+and prolonged part in the defense of his country, but did so casually,
+without any aim at self-sacrifice, and he therefore looked at what was
+going on in Russia without despair and without dismally racking his
+brains over it. Had he been asked what he thought of the state of
+Russia, he would have said that it was not his business to think about
+it, that Kutuzov and others were there for that purpose, but that he had
+heard that the regiments were to be made up to their full strength, that
+fighting would probably go on for a long time yet, and that things being
+so it was quite likely he might be in command of a regiment in a couple
+of years' time.
+
+As he looked at the matter in this way, he learned that he was being
+sent to Voronezh to buy remounts for his division, not only without
+regret at being prevented from taking part in the coming battle, but
+with the greatest pleasure--which he did not conceal and which his
+comrades fully understood.
+
+A few days before the battle of Borodino, Nicholas received the
+necessary money and warrants, and having sent some hussars on in
+advance, he set out with post horses for Voronezh.
+
+Only a man who has experienced it--that is, has passed some months
+continuously in an atmosphere of campaigning and war--can understand the
+delight Nicholas felt when he escaped from the region covered by the
+army's foraging operations, provision trains, and hospitals. When--free
+from soldiers, wagons, and the filthy traces of a camp--he saw villages
+with peasants and peasant women, gentlemen's country houses, fields
+where cattle were grazing, posthouses with stationmasters asleep in
+them, he rejoiced as though seeing all this for the first time. What for
+a long while specially surprised and delighted him were the women, young
+and healthy, without a dozen officers making up to each of them; women,
+too, who were pleased and flattered that a passing officer should joke
+with them.
+
+In the highest spirits Nicholas arrived at night at a hotel in Voronezh,
+ordered things he had long been deprived of in camp, and next day, very
+clean-shaven and in a full-dress uniform he had not worn for a long
+time, went to present himself to the authorities.
+
+The commander of the militia was a civilian general, an old man who was
+evidently pleased with his military designation and rank. He received
+Nicholas brusquely (imagining this to be characteristically military)
+and questioned him with an important air, as if considering the general
+progress of affairs and approving and disapproving with full right to do
+so. Nicholas was in such good spirits that this merely amused him.
+
+From the commander of the militia he drove to the governor. The governor
+was a brisk little man, very simple and affable. He indicated the stud
+farms at which Nicholas might procure horses, recommended to him a horse
+dealer in the town and a landowner fourteen miles out of town who had
+the best horses, and promised to assist him in every way.
+
+"You are Count Ilya Rostov's son? My wife was a great friend of your
+mother's. We are at home on Thursdays--today is Thursday, so please come
+and see us quite informally," said the governor, taking leave of him.
+
+Immediately on leaving the governor's, Nicholas hired post horses and,
+taking his squadron quartermaster with him, drove at a gallop to the
+landowner, fourteen miles away, who had the stud. Everything seemed to
+him pleasant and easy during that first part of his stay in Voronezh
+and, as usually happens when a man is in a pleasant state of mind,
+everything went well and easily.
+
+The landowner to whom Nicholas went was a bachelor, an old cavalryman, a
+horse fancier, a sportsman, the possessor of some century-old brandy and
+some old Hungarian wine, who had a snuggery where he smoked, and who
+owned some splendid horses.
+
+In very few words Nicholas bought seventeen picked stallions for six
+thousand rubles--to serve, as he said, as samples of his remounts. After
+dining and taking rather too much of the Hungarian wine, Nicholas--
+having exchanged kisses with the landowner, with whom he was already on
+the friendliest terms--galloped back over abominable roads, in the
+brightest frame of mind, continually urging on the driver so as to be in
+time for the governor's party.
+
+When he had changed, poured water over his head, and scented himself,
+Nicholas arrived at the governor's rather late, but with the phrase
+"better late than never" on his lips.
+
+It was not a ball, nor had dancing been announced, but everyone knew
+that Catherine Petrovna would play valses and the ecossaise on the
+clavichord and that there would be dancing, and so everyone had come as
+to a ball.
+
+Provincial life in 1812 went on very much as usual, but with this
+difference, that it was livelier in the towns in consequence of the
+arrival of many wealthy families from Moscow, and as in everything that
+went on in Russia at that time a special recklessness was noticeable, an
+"in for a penny, in for a pound--who cares?" spirit, and the inevitable
+small talk, instead of turning on the weather and mutual acquaintances,
+now turned on Moscow, the army, and Napoleon.
+
+The society gathered together at the governor's was the best in
+Voronezh.
+
+There were a great many ladies and some of Nicholas' Moscow
+acquaintances, but there were no men who could at all vie with the
+cavalier of St. George, the hussar remount officer, the good-natured and
+well-bred Count Rostov. Among the men was an Italian prisoner, an
+officer of the French army; and Nicholas felt that the presence of that
+prisoner enhanced his own importance as a Russian hero. The Italian was,
+as it were, a war trophy. Nicholas felt this, it seemed to him that
+everyone regarded the Italian in the same light, and he treated him
+cordially though with dignity and restraint.
+
+As soon as Nicholas entered in his hussar uniform, diffusing around him
+a fragrance of perfume and wine, and had uttered the words "better late
+than never" and heard them repeated several times by others, people
+clustered around him; all eyes turned on him, and he felt at once that
+he had entered into his proper position in the province--that of a
+universal favorite: a very pleasant position, and intoxicatingly so
+after his long privations. At posting stations, at inns, and in the
+landowner's snuggery, maidservants had been flattered by his notice, and
+here too at the governor's party there were (as it seemed to Nicholas)
+an inexhaustible number of pretty young women, married and unmarried,
+impatiently awaiting his notice. The women and girls flirted with him
+and, from the first day, the people concerned themselves to get this
+fine young daredevil of an hussar married and settled down. Among these
+was the governor's wife herself, who welcomed Rostov as a near relative
+and called him "Nicholas."
+
+Catherine Petrovna did actually play valses and the ecossaise, and
+dancing began in which Nicholas still further captivated the provincial
+society by his agility. His particularly free manner of dancing even
+surprised them all. Nicholas was himself rather surprised at the way he
+danced that evening. He had never danced like that in Moscow and would
+even have considered such a very free and easy manner improper and in
+bad form, but here he felt it incumbent on him to astonish them all by
+something unusual, something they would have to accept as the regular
+thing in the capital though new to them in the provinces.
+
+All the evening Nicholas paid attention to a blue-eyed, plump and
+pleasing little blonde, the wife of one of the provincial officials.
+With the naive conviction of young men in a merry mood that other men's
+wives were created for them, Rostov did not leave the lady's side and
+treated her husband in a friendly and conspiratorial style, as if,
+without speaking of it, they knew how capitally Nicholas and the lady
+would get on together. The husband, however, did not seem to share that
+conviction and tried to behave morosely with Rostov. But the latter's
+good-natured naivete was so boundless that sometimes even he
+involuntarily yielded to Nicholas' good humor. Toward the end of the
+evening, however, as the wife's face grew more flushed and animated, the
+husband's became more and more melancholy and solemn, as though there
+were but a given amount of animation between them and as the wife's
+share increased the husband's diminished.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+Nicholas sat leaning slightly forward in an armchair, bending closely
+over the blonde lady and paying her mythological compliments with a
+smile that never left his face. Jauntily shifting the position of his
+legs in their tight riding breeches, diffusing an odor of perfume, and
+admiring his partner, himself, and the fine outlines of his legs in
+their well-fitting Hessian boots, Nicholas told the blonde lady that he
+wished to run away with a certain lady here in Voronezh.
+
+"Which lady?"
+
+"A charming lady, a divine one. Her eyes" (Nicholas looked at his
+partner) "are blue, her mouth coral and ivory; her figure" (he glanced
+at her shoulders) "like Diana's...."
+
+The husband came up and sullenly asked his wife what she was talking
+about.
+
+"Ah, Nikita Ivanych!" cried Nicholas, rising politely, and as if wishing
+Nikita Ivanych to share his joke, he began to tell him of his intention
+to elope with a blonde lady.
+
+The husband smiled gloomily, the wife gaily. The governor's good-natured
+wife came up with a look of disapproval.
+
+"Anna Ignatyevna wants to see you, Nicholas," said she, pronouncing the
+name so that Nicholas at once understood that Anna Ignatyevna was a very
+important person. "Come, Nicholas! You know you let me call you so?"
+
+"Oh, yes, Aunt. Who is she?"
+
+"Anna Ignatyevna Malvintseva. She has heard from her niece how you
+rescued her... Can you guess?"
+
+"I rescued such a lot of them!" said Nicholas.
+
+"Her niece, Princess Bolkonskaya. She is here in Voronezh with her aunt.
+Oho! How you blush. Why, are...?"
+
+"Not a bit! Please don't, Aunt!"
+
+"Very well, very well!... Oh, what a fellow you are!"
+
+The governor's wife led him up to a tall and very stout old lady with a
+blue headdress, who had just finished her game of cards with the most
+important personages of the town. This was Malvintseva, Princess Mary's
+aunt on her mother's side, a rich, childless widow who always lived in
+Voronezh. When Rostov approached her she was standing settling up for
+the game. She looked at him and, screwing up her eyes sternly, continued
+to upbraid the general who had won from her.
+
+"Very pleased, mon cher," she then said, holding out her hand to
+Nicholas. "Pray come and see me."
+
+After a few words about Princess Mary and her late father, whom
+Malvintseva had evidently not liked, and having asked what Nicholas knew
+of Prince Andrew, who also was evidently no favorite of hers, the
+important old lady dismissed Nicholas after repeating her invitation to
+come to see her.
+
+Nicholas promised to come and blushed again as he bowed. At the mention
+of Princess Mary he experienced a feeling of shyness and even of fear,
+which he himself did not understand.
+
+When he had parted from Malvintseva Nicholas wished to return to the
+dancing, but the governor's little wife placed her plump hand on his
+sleeve and, saying that she wanted to have a talk with him, led him to
+her sitting room, from which those who were there immediately withdrew
+so as not to be in her way.
+
+"Do you know, dear boy," began the governor's wife with a serious
+expression on her kind little face, "that really would be the match for
+you: would you like me to arrange it?"
+
+"Whom do you mean, Aunt?" asked Nicholas.
+
+"I will make a match for you with the princess. Catherine Petrovna
+speaks of Lily, but I say, no--the princess! Do you want me to do it? I
+am sure your mother will be grateful to me. What a charming girl she is,
+really! And she is not at all so plain, either."
+
+"Not at all," replied Nicholas as if offended at the idea. "As befits a
+soldier, Aunt, I don't force myself on anyone or refuse anything," he
+said before he had time to consider what he was saying.
+
+"Well then, remember, this is not a joke!"
+
+"Of course not!"
+
+"Yes, yes," the governor's wife said as if talking to herself. "But, my
+dear boy, among other things you are too attentive to the other, the
+blonde. One is sorry for the husband, really...."
+
+"Oh no, we are good friends with him," said Nicholas in the simplicity
+of his heart; it did not enter his head that a pastime so pleasant to
+himself might not be pleasant to someone else.
+
+"But what nonsense I have been saying to the governor's wife!" thought
+Nicholas suddenly at supper. "She will really begin to arrange a
+match... and Sonya...?" And on taking leave of the governor's wife, when
+she again smilingly said to him, "Well then, remember!" he drew her
+aside.
+
+"But see here, to tell the truth, Aunt..."
+
+"What is it, my dear? Come, let's sit down here," said she.
+
+Nicholas suddenly felt a desire and need to tell his most intimate
+thoughts (which he would not have told to his mother, his sister, or his
+friend) to this woman who was almost a stranger. When he afterwards
+recalled that impulse to unsolicited and inexplicable frankness which
+had very important results for him, it seemed to him--as it seems to
+everyone in such cases--that it was merely some silly whim that seized
+him: yet that burst of frankness, together with other trifling events,
+had immense consequences for him and for all his family.
+
+"You see, Aunt, Mamma has long wanted me to marry an heiress, but the
+very idea of marrying for money is repugnant to me."
+
+"Oh yes, I understand," said the governor's wife.
+
+"But Princess Bolkonskaya--that's another matter. I will tell you the
+truth. In the first place I like her very much, I feel drawn to her; and
+then, after I met her under such circumstances--so strangely, the idea
+often occurred to me: 'This is fate.' Especially if you remember that
+Mamma had long been thinking of it; but I had never happened to meet her
+before, somehow it had always happened that we did not meet. And as long
+as my sister Natasha was engaged to her brother it was of course out of
+the question for me to think of marrying her. And it must needs happen
+that I should meet her just when Natasha's engagement had been broken
+off... and then everything... So you see... I never told this to anyone
+and never will, only to you."
+
+The governor's wife pressed his elbow gratefully.
+
+"You know Sonya, my cousin? I love her, and promised to marry her, and
+will do so.... So you see there can be no question about-" said Nicholas
+incoherently and blushing.
+
+"My dear boy, what a way to look at it! You know Sonya has nothing and
+you yourself say your Papa's affairs are in a very bad way. And what
+about your mother? It would kill her, that's one thing. And what sort of
+life would it be for Sonya--if she's a girl with a heart? Your mother in
+despair, and you all ruined.... No, my dear, you and Sonya ought to
+understand that."
+
+Nicholas remained silent. It comforted him to hear these arguments.
+
+"All the same, Aunt, it is impossible," he rejoined with a sigh, after a
+short pause. "Besides, would the princess have me? And besides, she is
+now in mourning. How can one think of it!"
+
+"But you don't suppose I'm going to get you married at once? There is
+always a right way of doing things," replied the governor's wife.
+
+"What a matchmaker you are, Aunt..." said Nicholas, kissing her plump
+little hand.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+On reaching Moscow after her meeting with Rostov, Princess Mary had
+found her nephew there with his tutor, and a letter from Prince Andrew
+giving her instructions how to get to her Aunt Malvintseva at Voronezh.
+That feeling akin to temptation which had tormented her during her
+father's illness, since his death, and especially since her meeting with
+Rostov was smothered by arrangements for the journey, anxiety about her
+brother, settling in a new house, meeting new people, and attending to
+her nephew's education. She was sad. Now, after a month passed in quiet
+surroundings, she felt more and more deeply the loss of her father which
+was associated in her mind with the ruin of Russia. She was agitated and
+incessantly tortured by the thought of the dangers to which her brother,
+the only intimate person now remaining to her, was exposed. She was
+worried too about her nephew's education for which she had always felt
+herself incompetent, but in the depths of her soul she felt at peace--a
+peace arising from consciousness of having stifled those personal dreams
+and hopes that had been on the point of awakening within her and were
+related to her meeting with Rostov.
+
+The day after her party the governor's wife came to see Malvintseva and,
+after discussing her plan with the aunt, remarked that though under
+present circumstances a formal betrothal was, of course, not to be
+thought of, all the same the young people might be brought together and
+could get to know one another. Malvintseva expressed approval, and the
+governor's wife began to speak of Rostov in Mary's presence, praising
+him and telling how he had blushed when Princess Mary's name was
+mentioned. But Princess Mary experienced a painful rather than a joyful
+feeling--her mental tranquillity was destroyed, and desires, doubts,
+self-reproach, and hopes reawoke.
+
+During the two days that elapsed before Rostov called, Princess Mary
+continually thought of how she ought to behave to him. First she decided
+not to come to the drawing room when he called to see her aunt--that it
+would not be proper for her, in her deep mourning, to receive visitors;
+then she thought this would be rude after what he had done for her; then
+it occurred to her that her aunt and the governor's wife had intentions
+concerning herself and Rostov--their looks and words at times seemed to
+confirm this supposition--then she told herself that only she, with her
+sinful nature, could think this of them: they could not forget that
+situated as she was, while still wearing deep mourning, such matchmaking
+would be an insult to her and to her father's memory. Assuming that she
+did go down to see him, Princess Mary imagined the words he would say to
+her and what she would say to him, and these words sometimes seemed
+undeservedly cold and then to mean too much. More than anything she
+feared lest the confusion she felt might overwhelm her and betray her as
+soon as she saw him.
+
+But when on Sunday after church the footman announced in the drawing
+room that Count Rostov had called, the princess showed no confusion,
+only a slight blush suffused her cheeks and her eyes lit up with a new
+and radiant light.
+
+"You have met him, Aunt?" said she in a calm voice, unable herself to
+understand that she could be outwardly so calm and natural.
+
+When Rostov entered the room, the princess dropped her eyes for an
+instant, as if to give the visitor time to greet her aunt, and then just
+as Nicholas turned to her she raised her head and met his look with
+shining eyes. With a movement full of dignity and grace she half rose
+with a smile of pleasure, held out her slender, delicate hand to him,
+and began to speak in a voice in which for the first time new deep
+womanly notes vibrated. Mademoiselle Bourienne, who was in the drawing
+room, looked at Princess Mary in bewildered surprise. Herself a
+consummate coquette, she could not have maneuvered better on meeting a
+man she wished to attract.
+
+"Either black is particularly becoming to her or she really has greatly
+improved without my having noticed it. And above all, what tact and
+grace!" thought Mademoiselle Bourienne.
+
+Had Princess Mary been capable of reflection at that moment, she would
+have been more surprised than Mademoiselle Bourienne at the change that
+had taken place in herself. From the moment she recognized that dear,
+loved face, a new life force took possession of her and compelled her to
+speak and act apart from her own will. From the time Rostov entered, her
+face became suddenly transformed. It was as if a light had been kindled
+in a carved and painted lantern and the intricate, skillful, artistic
+work on its sides, that previously seemed dark, coarse, and meaningless,
+was suddenly shown up in unexpected and striking beauty. For the first
+time all that pure, spiritual, inward travail through which she had
+lived appeared on the surface. All her inward labor, her dissatisfaction
+with herself, her sufferings, her strivings after goodness, her
+meekness, love, and self-sacrifice--all this now shone in those radiant
+eyes, in her delicate smile, and in every trait of her gentle face.
+
+Rostov saw all this as clearly as if he had known her whole life. He
+felt that the being before him was quite different from, and better
+than, anyone he had met before, and above all better than himself.
+
+Their conversation was very simple and unimportant. They spoke of the
+war, and like everyone else unconsciously exaggerated their sorrow about
+it; they spoke of their last meeting--Nicholas trying to change the
+subject--they talked of the governor's kind wife, of Nicholas'
+relations, and of Princess Mary's.
+
+She did not talk about her brother, diverting the conversation as soon
+as her aunt mentioned Andrew. Evidently she could speak of Russia's
+misfortunes with a certain artificiality, but her brother was too near
+her heart and she neither could nor would speak lightly of him. Nicholas
+noticed this, as he noticed every shade of Princess Mary's character
+with an observation unusual to him, and everything confirmed his
+conviction that she was a quite unusual and extraordinary being.
+Nicholas blushed and was confused when people spoke to him about the
+princess (as she did when he was mentioned) and even when he thought of
+her, but in her presence he felt quite at ease, and said not at all what
+he had prepared, but what, quite appropriately, occurred to him at the
+moment.
+
+When a pause occurred during his short visit, Nicholas, as is usual when
+there are children, turned to Prince Andrew's little son, caressing him
+and asking whether he would like to be an hussar. He took the boy on his
+knee, played with him, and looked round at Princess Mary. With a
+softened, happy, timid look she watched the boy she loved in the arms of
+the man she loved. Nicholas also noticed that look and, as if
+understanding it, flushed with pleasure and began to kiss the boy with
+good natured playfulness.
+
+As she was in mourning Princess Mary did not go out into society, and
+Nicholas did not think it the proper thing to visit her again; but all
+the same the governor's wife went on with her matchmaking, passing on to
+Nicholas the flattering things Princess Mary said of him and vice versa,
+and insisting on his declaring himself to Princess Mary. For this
+purpose she arranged a meeting between the young people at the bishop's
+house before Mass.
+
+Though Rostov told the governor's wife that he would not make any
+declaration to Princess Mary, he promised to go.
+
+As at Tilsit Rostov had not allowed himself to doubt that what everybody
+considered right was right, so now, after a short but sincere struggle
+between his effort to arrange his life by his own sense of justice, and
+in obedient submission to circumstances, he chose the latter and yielded
+to the power he felt irresistibly carrying him he knew not where. He
+knew that after his promise to Sonya it would be what he deemed base to
+declare his feelings to Princess Mary. And he knew that he would never
+act basely. But he also knew (or rather felt at the bottom of his heart)
+that by resigning himself now to the force of circumstances and to those
+who were guiding him, he was not only doing nothing wrong, but was doing
+something very important--more important than anything he had ever done
+in his life.
+
+After meeting Princess Mary, though the course of his life went on
+externally as before, all his former amusements lost their charm for him
+and he often thought about her. But he never thought about her as he had
+thought of all the young ladies without exception whom he had met in
+society, nor as he had for a long time, and at one time rapturously,
+thought about Sonya. He had pictured each of those young ladies as
+almost all honest-hearted young men do, that is, as a possible wife,
+adapting her in his imagination to all the conditions of married life: a
+white dressing gown, his wife at the tea table, his wife's carriage,
+little ones, Mamma and Papa, their relations to her, and so on--and
+these pictures of the future had given him pleasure. But with Princess
+Mary, to whom they were trying to get him engaged, he could never
+picture anything of future married life. If he tried, his pictures
+seemed incongruous and false. It made him afraid.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+The dreadful news of the battle of Borodino, of our losses in killed and
+wounded, and the still more terrible news of the loss of Moscow reached
+Voronezh in the middle of September. Princess Mary, having learned of
+her brother's wound only from the Gazette and having no definite news of
+him, prepared (so Nicholas heard, he had not seen her again himself) to
+set off in search of Prince Andrew.
+
+When he received the news of the battle of Borodino and the abandonment
+of Moscow, Rostov was not seized with despair, anger, the desire for
+vengeance, or any feeling of that kind, but everything in Voronezh
+suddenly seemed to him dull and tiresome, and he experienced an
+indefinite feeling of shame and awkwardness. The conversations he heard
+seemed to him insincere; he did not know how to judge all these affairs
+and felt that only in the regiment would everything again become clear
+to him. He made haste to finish buying the horses, and often became
+unreasonably angry with his servant and squadron quartermaster.
+
+A few days before his departure a special thanksgiving, at which
+Nicholas was present, was held in the cathedral for the Russian victory.
+He stood a little behind the governor and held himself with military
+decorum through the service, meditating on a great variety of subjects.
+When the service was over the governor's wife beckoned him to her.
+
+"Have you seen the princess?" she asked, indicating with a movement of
+her head a lady standing on the opposite side, beyond the choir.
+
+Nicholas immediately recognized Princess Mary not so much by the profile
+he saw under her bonnet as by the feeling of solicitude, timidity, and
+pity that immediately overcame him. Princess Mary, evidently engrossed
+by her thoughts, was crossing herself for the last time before leaving
+the church.
+
+Nicholas looked at her face with surprise. It was the same face he had
+seen before, there was the same general expression of refined, inner,
+spiritual labor, but now it was quite differently lit up. There was a
+pathetic expression of sorrow, prayer, and hope in it. As had occurred
+before when she was present, Nicholas went up to her without waiting to
+be prompted by the governor's wife and not asking himself whether or not
+it was right and proper to address her here in church, and told her he
+had heard of her trouble and sympathized with his whole soul. As soon as
+she heard his voice a vivid glow kindled in her face, lighting up both
+her sorrow and her joy.
+
+"There is one thing I wanted to tell you, Princess," said Rostov. "It is
+that if your brother, Prince Andrew Nikolievich, were not living, it
+would have been at once announced in the Gazette, as he is a colonel."
+
+The princess looked at him, not grasping what he was saying, but cheered
+by the expression of regretful sympathy on his face.
+
+"And I have known so many cases of a splinter wound" (the Gazette said
+it was a shell) "either proving fatal at once or being very slight,"
+continued Nicholas. "We must hope for the best, and I am sure..."
+
+Princess Mary interrupted him.
+
+"Oh, that would be so dread..." she began and, prevented by agitation
+from finishing, she bent her head with a movement as graceful as
+everything she did in his presence and, looking up at him gratefully,
+went out, following her aunt.
+
+That evening Nicholas did not go out, but stayed at home to settle some
+accounts with the horse dealers. When he had finished that business it
+was already too late to go anywhere but still too early to go to bed,
+and for a long time he paced up and down the room, reflecting on his
+life, a thing he rarely did.
+
+Princess Mary had made an agreeable impression on him when he had met
+her in Smolensk province. His having encountered her in such exceptional
+circumstances, and his mother having at one time mentioned her to him as
+a good match, had drawn his particular attention to her. When he met her
+again in Voronezh the impression she made on him was not merely pleasing
+but powerful. Nicholas had been struck by the peculiar moral beauty he
+observed in her at this time. He was, however, preparing to go away and
+it had not entered his head to regret that he was thus depriving himself
+of chances of meeting her. But that day's encounter in church had, he
+felt, sunk deeper than was desirable for his peace of mind. That pale,
+sad, refined face, that radiant look, those gentle graceful gestures,
+and especially the deep and tender sorrow expressed in all her features
+agitated him and evoked his sympathy. In men Rostov could not bear to
+see the expression of a higher spiritual life (that was why he did not
+like Prince Andrew) and he referred to it contemptuously as philosophy
+and dreaminess, but in Princess Mary that very sorrow which revealed the
+depth of a whole spiritual world foreign to him was an irresistible
+attraction.
+
+"She must be a wonderful woman. A real angel!" he said to himself. "Why
+am I not free? Why was I in such a hurry with Sonya?" And he
+involuntarily compared the two: the lack of spirituality in the one and
+the abundance of it in the other--a spirituality he himself lacked and
+therefore valued most highly. He tried to picture what would happen were
+he free. How he would propose to her and how she would become his wife.
+But no, he could not imagine that. He felt awed, and no clear picture
+presented itself to his mind. He had long ago pictured to himself a
+future with Sonya, and that was all clear and simple just because it had
+all been thought out and he knew all there was in Sonya, but it was
+impossible to picture a future with Princess Mary, because he did not
+understand her but simply loved her.
+
+Reveries about Sonya had had something merry and playful in them, but to
+dream of Princess Mary was always difficult and a little frightening.
+
+"How she prayed!" he thought. "It was plain that her whole soul was in
+her prayer. Yes, that was the prayer that moves mountains, and I am sure
+her prayer will be answered. Why don't I pray for what I want?" he
+suddenly thought. "What do I want? To be free, released from Sonya...
+She was right," he thought, remembering what the governor's wife had
+said: "Nothing but misfortune can come of marrying Sonya. Muddles, grief
+for Mamma... business difficulties... muddles, terrible muddles!
+Besides, I don't love her--not as I should. O, God! release me from this
+dreadful, inextricable position!" he suddenly began to pray. "Yes,
+prayer can move mountains, but one must have faith and not pray as
+Natasha and I used to as children, that the snow might turn into sugar--
+and then run out into the yard to see whether it had done so. No, but I
+am not praying for trifles now," he thought as he put his pipe down in a
+corner, and folding his hands placed himself before the icon. Softened
+by memories of Princess Mary he began to pray as he had not done for a
+long time. Tears were in his eyes and in his throat when the door opened
+and Lavrushka came in with some papers.
+
+"Blockhead! Why do you come in without being called?" cried Nicholas,
+quickly changing his attitude.
+
+"From the governor," said Lavrushka in a sleepy voice. "A courier has
+arrived and there's a letter for you."
+
+"Well, all right, thanks. You can go!"
+
+Nicholas took the two letters, one of which was from his mother and the
+other from Sonya. He recognized them by the handwriting and opened
+Sonya's first. He had read only a few lines when he turned pale and his
+eyes opened wide with fear and joy.
+
+"No, it's not possible!" he cried aloud.
+
+Unable to sit still he paced up and down the room holding the letter and
+reading it. He glanced through it, then read it again, and then again,
+and standing still in the middle of the room he raised his shoulders,
+stretching out his hands, with his mouth wide open and his eyes fixed.
+What he had just been praying for with confidence that God would hear
+him had come to pass; but Nicholas was as much astonished as if it were
+something extraordinary and unexpected, and as if the very fact that it
+had happened so quickly proved that it had not come from God to whom he
+had prayed, but by some ordinary coincidence.
+
+This unexpected and, as it seemed to Nicholas, quite voluntary letter
+from Sonya freed him from the knot that fettered him and from which
+there had seemed no escape. She wrote that the last unfortunate events--
+the loss of almost the whole of the Rostovs' Moscow property--and the
+countess' repeatedly expressed wish that Nicholas should marry Princess
+Bolkonskaya, together with his silence and coldness of late, had all
+combined to make her decide to release him from his promise and set him
+completely free.
+
+It would be too painful to me to think that I might be a cause of sorrow
+or discord in the family that has been so good to me (she wrote), and my
+love has no aim but the happiness of those I love; so, Nicholas, I beg
+you to consider yourself free, and to be assured that, in spite of
+everything, no one can love you more than does
+
+Your Sonya
+
+Both letters were written from Troitsa. The other, from the countess,
+described their last days in Moscow, their departure, the fire, and the
+destruction of all their property. In this letter the countess also
+mentioned that Prince Andrew was among the wounded traveling with them;
+his state was very critical, but the doctor said there was now more
+hope. Sonya and Natasha were nursing him.
+
+Next day Nicholas took his mother's letter and went to see Princess
+Mary. Neither he nor she said a word about what "Natasha nursing him"
+might mean, but thanks to this letter Nicholas suddenly became almost as
+intimate with the princess as if they were relations.
+
+The following day he saw Princess Mary off on her journey to Yaroslavl,
+and a few days later left to rejoin his regiment.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+Sonya's letter written from Troitsa, which had come as an answer to
+Nicholas' prayer, was prompted by this: the thought of getting Nicholas
+married to an heiress occupied the old countess' mind more and more. She
+knew that Sonya was the chief obstacle to this happening, and Sonya's
+life in the countess' house had grown harder and harder, especially
+after they had received a letter from Nicholas telling of his meeting
+with Princess Mary in Bogucharovo. The countess let no occasion slip of
+making humiliating or cruel allusions to Sonya.
+
+But a few days before they left Moscow, moved and excited by all that
+was going on, she called Sonya to her and, instead of reproaching and
+making demands on her, tearfully implored her to sacrifice herself and
+repay all that the family had done for her by breaking off her
+engagement with Nicholas.
+
+"I shall not be at peace till you promise me this."
+
+Sonya burst into hysterical tears and replied through her sobs that she
+would do anything and was prepared for anything, but gave no actual
+promise and could not bring herself to decide to do what was demanded of
+her. She must sacrifice herself for the family that had reared and
+brought her up. To sacrifice herself for others was Sonya's habit. Her
+position in the house was such that only by sacrifice could she show her
+worth, and she was accustomed to this and loved doing it. But in all her
+former acts of self-sacrifice she had been happily conscious that they
+raised her in her own esteem and in that of others, and so made her more
+worthy of Nicholas whom she loved more than anything in the world. But
+now they wanted her to sacrifice the very thing that constituted the
+whole reward for her self-sacrifice and the whole meaning of her life.
+And for the first time she felt bitterness against those who had been
+her benefactors only to torture her the more painfully; she felt jealous
+of Natasha who had never experienced anything of this sort, had never
+needed to sacrifice herself, but made others sacrifice themselves for
+her and yet was beloved by everybody. And for the first time Sonya felt
+that out of her pure, quiet love for Nicholas a passionate feeling was
+beginning to grow up which was stronger than principle, virtue, or
+religion. Under the influence of this feeling Sonya, whose life of
+dependence had taught her involuntarily to be secretive, having answered
+the countess in vague general terms, avoided talking with her and
+resolved to wait till she should see Nicholas, not in order to set him
+free but on the contrary at that meeting to bind him to her forever.
+
+The bustle and terror of the Rostovs' last days in Moscow stifled the
+gloomy thoughts that oppressed Sonya. She was glad to find escape from
+them in practical activity. But when she heard of Prince Andrew's
+presence in their house, despite her sincere pity for him and for
+Natasha, she was seized by a joyful and superstitious feeling that God
+did not intend her to be separated from Nicholas. She knew that Natasha
+loved no one but Prince Andrew and had never ceased to love him. She
+knew that being thrown together again under such terrible circumstances
+they would again fall in love with one another, and that Nicholas would
+then not be able to marry Princess Mary as they would be within the
+prohibited degrees of affinity. Despite all the terror of what had
+happened during those last days and during the first days of their
+journey, this feeling that Providence was intervening in her personal
+affairs cheered Sonya.
+
+At the Troitsa monastery the Rostovs first broke their journey for a
+whole day.
+
+Three large rooms were assigned to them in the monastery hostelry, one
+of which was occupied by Prince Andrew. The wounded man was much better
+that day and Natasha was sitting with him. In the next room sat the
+count and countess respectfully conversing with the prior, who was
+calling on them as old acquaintances and benefactors of the monastery.
+Sonya was there too, tormented by curiosity as to what Prince Andrew and
+Natasha were talking about. She heard the sound of their voices through
+the door. That door opened and Natasha came out, looking excited. Not
+noticing the monk, who had risen to greet her and was drawing back the
+wide sleeve on his right arm, she went up to Sonya and took her hand.
+
+"Natasha, what are you about? Come here!" said the countess.
+
+Natasha went up to the monk for his blessing, and he advised her to pray
+for aid to God and His saint.
+
+As soon as the prior withdrew, Natasha took her friend by the hand and
+went with her into the unoccupied room.
+
+"Sonya, will he live?" she asked. "Sonya, how happy I am, and how
+unhappy!... Sonya, dovey, everything is as it used to be. If only he
+lives! He cannot... because... because... of" and Natasha burst into
+tears.
+
+"Yes! I knew it! Thank God!" murmured Sonya. "He will live."
+
+Sonya was not less agitated than her friend by the latter's fear and
+grief and by her own personal feelings which she shared with no one.
+Sobbing, she kissed and comforted Natasha. "If only he lives!" she
+thought. Having wept, talked, and wiped away their tears, the two
+friends went together to Prince Andrew's door. Natasha opened it
+cautiously and glanced into the room, Sonya standing beside her at the
+half-open door.
+
+Prince Andrew was lying raised high on three pillows. His pale face was
+calm, his eyes closed, and they could see his regular breathing.
+
+"O, Natasha!" Sonya suddenly almost screamed, catching her companion's
+arm and stepping back from the door.
+
+"What? What is it?" asked Natasha.
+
+"It's that, that..." said Sonya, with a white face and trembling lips.
+
+Natasha softly closed the door and went with Sonya to the window, not
+yet understanding what the latter was telling her.
+
+"You remember," said Sonya with a solemn and frightened expression. "You
+remember when I looked in the mirror for you... at Otradnoe at
+Christmas? Do you remember what I saw?"
+
+"Yes, yes!" cried Natasha opening her eyes wide, and vaguely recalling
+that Sonya had told her something about Prince Andrew whom she had seen
+lying down.
+
+"You remember?" Sonya went on. "I saw it then and told everybody, you
+and Dunyasha. I saw him lying on a bed," said she, making a gesture with
+her hand and a lifted finger at each detail, "and that he had his eyes
+closed and was covered just with a pink quilt, and that his hands were
+folded," she concluded, convincing herself that the details she had just
+seen were exactly what she had seen in the mirror.
+
+She had in fact seen nothing then but had mentioned the first thing that
+came into her head, but what she had invented then seemed to her now as
+real as any other recollection. She not only remembered what she had
+then said--that he turned to look at her and smiled and was covered with
+something red--but was firmly convinced that she had then seen and said
+that he was covered with a pink quilt and that his eyes were closed.
+
+"Yes, yes, it really was pink!" cried Natasha, who now thought she too
+remembered the word pink being used, and saw in this the most
+extraordinary and mysterious part of the prediction.
+
+"But what does it mean?" she added meditatively.
+
+"Oh, I don't know, it is all so strange," replied Sonya, clutching at
+her head.
+
+A few minutes later Prince Andrew rang and Natasha went to him, but
+Sonya, feeling unusually excited and touched, remained at the window
+thinking about the strangeness of what had occurred.
+
+They had an opportunity that day to send letters to the army, and the
+countess was writing to her son.
+
+"Sonya!" said the countess, raising her eyes from her letter as her
+niece passed, "Sonya, won't you write to Nicholas?" She spoke in a soft,
+tremulous voice, and in the weary eyes that looked over her spectacles
+Sonya read all that the countess meant to convey with these words. Those
+eyes expressed entreaty, shame at having to ask, fear of a refusal, and
+readiness for relentless hatred in case of such refusal.
+
+Sonya went up to the countess and, kneeling down, kissed her hand.
+
+"Yes, Mamma, I will write," said she.
+
+Sonya was softened, excited, and touched by all that had occurred that
+day, especially by the mysterious fulfillment she had just seen of her
+vision. Now that she knew that the renewal of Natasha's relations with
+Prince Andrew would prevent Nicholas from marrying Princess Mary, she
+was joyfully conscious of a return of that self-sacrificing spirit in
+which she was accustomed to live and loved to live. So with a joyful
+consciousness of performing a magnanimous deed--interrupted several
+times by the tears that dimmed her velvety black eyes--she wrote that
+touching letter the arrival of which had so amazed Nicholas.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+The officer and soldiers who had arrested Pierre treated him with
+hostility but yet with respect, in the guardhouse to which he was taken.
+In their attitude toward him could still be felt both uncertainty as to
+who he might be--perhaps a very important person--and hostility as a
+result of their recent personal conflict with him.
+
+But when the guard was relieved next morning, Pierre felt that for the
+new guard--both officers and men--he was not as interesting as he had
+been to his captors; and in fact the guard of the second day did not
+recognize in this big, stout man in a peasant coat the vigorous person
+who had fought so desperately with the marauder and the convoy and had
+uttered those solemn words about saving a child; they saw in him only
+No. 17 of the captured Russians, arrested and detained for some reason
+by order of the Higher Command. If they noticed anything remarkable
+about Pierre, it was only his unabashed, meditative concentration and
+thoughtfulness, and the way he spoke French, which struck them as
+surprisingly good. In spite of this he was placed that day with the
+other arrested suspects, as the separate room he had occupied was
+required by an officer.
+
+All the Russians confined with Pierre were men of the lowest class and,
+recognizing him as a gentleman, they all avoided him, more especially as
+he spoke French. Pierre felt sad at hearing them making fun of him.
+
+That evening he learned that all these prisoners (he, probably, among
+them) were to be tried for incendiarism. On the third day he was taken
+with the others to a house where a French general with a white mustache
+sat with two colonels and other Frenchmen with scarves on their arms.
+With the precision and definiteness customary in addressing prisoners,
+and which is supposed to preclude human frailty, Pierre like the others
+was questioned as to who he was, where he had been, with what object,
+and so on.
+
+These questions, like questions put at trials generally, left the
+essence of the matter aside, shut out the possibility of that essence's
+being revealed, and were designed only to form a channel through which
+the judges wished the answers of the accused to flow so as to lead to
+the desired result, namely a conviction. As soon as Pierre began to say
+anything that did not fit in with that aim, the channel was removed and
+the water could flow to waste. Pierre felt, moreover, what the accused
+always feel at their trial, perplexity as to why these questions were
+put to him. He had a feeling that it was only out of condescension or a
+kind of civility that this device of placing a channel was employed. He
+knew he was in these men's power, that only by force had they brought
+him there, that force alone gave them the right to demand answers to
+their questions, and that the sole object of that assembly was to
+inculpate him. And so, as they had the power and wish to inculpate him,
+this expedient of an inquiry and trial seemed unnecessary. It was
+evident that any answer would lead to conviction. When asked what he was
+doing when he was arrested, Pierre replied in a rather tragic manner
+that he was restoring to its parents a child he had saved from the
+flames. Why had he fought the marauder? Pierre answered that he "was
+protecting a woman," and that "to protect a woman who was being insulted
+was the duty of every man; that..." They interrupted him, for this was
+not to the point. Why was he in the yard of a burning house where
+witnesses had seen him? He replied that he had gone out to see what was
+happening in Moscow. Again they interrupted him: they had not asked
+where he was going, but why he was found near the fire? Who was he? they
+asked, repeating their first question, which he had declined to answer.
+Again he replied that he could not answer it.
+
+"Put that down, that's bad... very bad," sternly remarked the general
+with the white mustache and red flushed face.
+
+On the fourth day fires broke out on the Zubovski rampart.
+
+Pierre and thirteen others were moved to the coach house of a merchant's
+house near the Crimean bridge. On his way through the streets Pierre
+felt stifled by the smoke which seemed to hang over the whole city.
+Fires were visible on all sides. He did not then realize the
+significance of the burning of Moscow, and looked at the fires with
+horror.
+
+He passed four days in the coach house near the Crimean bridge and
+during that time learned, from the talk of the French soldiers, that all
+those confined there were awaiting a decision which might come any day
+from the marshal. What marshal this was, Pierre could not learn from the
+soldiers. Evidently for them "the marshal" represented a very high and
+rather mysterious power.
+
+These first days, before the eighth of September when the prisoners were
+had up for a second examination, were the hardest of all for Pierre.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+On the eighth of September an officer--a very important one judging by
+the respect the guards showed him--entered the coach house where the
+prisoners were. This officer, probably someone on the staff, was holding
+a paper in his hand, and called over all the Russians there, naming
+Pierre as "the man who does not give his name." Glancing indolently and
+indifferently at all the prisoners, he ordered the officer in charge to
+have them decently dressed and tidied up before taking them to the
+marshal. An hour later a squad of soldiers arrived and Pierre with
+thirteen others was led to the Virgin's Field. It was a fine day, sunny
+after rain, and the air was unusually pure. The smoke did not hang low
+as on the day when Pierre had been taken from the guardhouse on the
+Zubovski rampart, but rose through the pure air in columns. No flames
+were seen, but columns of smoke rose on all sides, and all Moscow as far
+as Pierre could see was one vast charred ruin. On all sides there were
+waste spaces with only stoves and chimney stacks still standing, and
+here and there the blackened walls of some brick houses. Pierre gazed at
+the ruins and did not recognize districts he had known well. Here and
+there he could see churches that had not been burned. The Kremlin, which
+was not destroyed, gleamed white in the distance with its towers and the
+belfry of Ivan the Great. The domes of the New Convent of the Virgin
+glittered brightly and its bells were ringing particularly clearly.
+These bells reminded Pierre that it was Sunday and the feast of the
+Nativity of the Virgin. But there seemed to be no one to celebrate this
+holiday: everywhere were blackened ruins, and the few Russians to be
+seen were tattered and frightened people who tried to hide when they saw
+the French.
+
+It was plain that the Russian nest was ruined and destroyed, but in
+place of the Russian order of life that had been destroyed, Pierre
+unconsciously felt that a quite different, firm, French order had been
+established over this ruined nest. He felt this in the looks of the
+soldiers who, marching in regular ranks briskly and gaily, were
+escorting him and the other criminals; he felt it in the looks of an
+important French official in a carriage and pair driven by a soldier,
+whom they met on the way. He felt it in the merry sounds of regimental
+music he heard from the left side of the field, and felt and realized it
+especially from the list of prisoners the French officer had read out
+when he came that morning. Pierre had been taken by one set of soldiers
+and led first to one and then to another place with dozens of other men,
+and it seemed that they might have forgotten him, or confused him with
+the others. But no: the answers he had given when questioned had come
+back to him in his designation as "the man who does not give his name,"
+and under that appellation, which to Pierre seemed terrible, they were
+now leading him somewhere with unhesitating assurance on their faces
+that he and all the other prisoners were exactly the ones they wanted
+and that they were being taken to the proper place. Pierre felt himself
+to be an insignificant chip fallen among the wheels of a machine whose
+action he did not understand but which was working well.
+
+He and the other prisoners were taken to the right side of the Virgin's
+Field, to a large white house with an immense garden not far from the
+convent. This was Prince Shcherbitov's house, where Pierre had often
+been in other days, and which, as he learned from the talk of the
+soldiers, was now occupied by the marshal, the Duke of Eckmuhl (Davout).
+
+They were taken to the entrance and led into the house one by one.
+Pierre was the sixth to enter. He was conducted through a glass gallery,
+an anteroom, and a hall, which were familiar to him, into a long low
+study at the door of which stood an adjutant.
+
+Davout, spectacles on nose, sat bent over a table at the further end of
+the room. Pierre went close up to him, but Davout, evidently consulting
+a paper that lay before him, did not look up. Without raising his eyes,
+he said in a low voice:
+
+"Who are you?"
+
+Pierre was silent because he was incapable of uttering a word. To him
+Davout was not merely a French general, but a man notorious for his
+cruelty. Looking at his cold face, as he sat like a stern schoolmaster
+who was prepared to wait awhile for an answer, Pierre felt that every
+instant of delay might cost him his life; but he did not know what to
+say. He did not venture to repeat what he had said at his first
+examination, yet to disclose his rank and position was dangerous and
+embarrassing. So he was silent. But before he had decided what to do,
+Davout raised his head, pushed his spectacles back on his forehead,
+screwed up his eyes, and looked intently at him.
+
+"I know that man," he said in a cold, measured tone, evidently
+calculated to frighten Pierre.
+
+The chill that had been running down Pierre's back now seized his head
+as in a vise.
+
+"You cannot know me, General, I have never seen you..."
+
+"He is a Russian spy," Davout interrupted, addressing another general
+who was present, but whom Pierre had not noticed.
+
+Davout turned away. With an unexpected reverberation in his voice Pierre
+rapidly began:
+
+"No, monseigneur," he said, suddenly remembering that Davout was a duke.
+"No, monseigneur, you cannot have known me. I am a militia officer and
+have not quitted Moscow."
+
+"Your name?" asked Davout.
+
+"Bezukhov."
+
+"What proof have I that you are not lying?"
+
+"Monseigneur!" exclaimed Pierre, not in an offended but in a pleading
+voice.
+
+Davout looked up and gazed intently at him. For some seconds they looked
+at one another, and that look saved Pierre. Apart from conditions of war
+and law, that look established human relations between the two men. At
+that moment an immense number of things passed dimly through both their
+minds, and they realized that they were both children of humanity and
+were brothers.
+
+At the first glance, when Davout had only raised his head from the
+papers where human affairs and lives were indicated by numbers, Pierre
+was merely a circumstance, and Davout could have shot him without
+burdening his conscience with an evil deed, but now he saw in him a
+human being. He reflected for a moment.
+
+"How can you show me that you are telling the truth?" said Davout
+coldly.
+
+Pierre remembered Ramballe, and named him and his regiment and the
+street where the house was.
+
+"You are not what you say," returned Davout.
+
+In a trembling, faltering voice Pierre began adducing proofs of the
+truth of his statements.
+
+But at that moment an adjutant entered and reported something to Davout.
+
+Davout brightened up at the news the adjutant brought, and began
+buttoning up his uniform. It seemed that he had quite forgotten Pierre.
+
+When the adjutant reminded him of the prisoner, he jerked his head in
+Pierre's direction with a frown and ordered him to be led away. But
+where they were to take him Pierre did not know: back to the coach house
+or to the place of execution his companions had pointed out to him as
+they crossed the Virgin's Field.
+
+He turned his head and saw that the adjutant was putting another
+question to Davout.
+
+"Yes, of course!" replied Davout, but what this "yes" meant, Pierre did
+not know.
+
+Pierre could not afterwards remember how he went, whether it was far, or
+in which direction. His faculties were quite numbed, he was stupefied,
+and noticing nothing around him went on moving his legs as the others
+did till they all stopped and he stopped too. The only thought in his
+mind at that time was: who was it that had really sentenced him to
+death? Not the men on the commission that had first examined him--not
+one of them wished to or, evidently, could have done it. It was not
+Davout, who had looked at him in so human a way. In another moment
+Davout would have realized that he was doing wrong, but just then the
+adjutant had come in and interrupted him. The adjutant, also, had
+evidently had no evil intent though he might have refrained from coming
+in. Then who was executing him, killing him, depriving him of life--him,
+Pierre, with all his memories, aspirations, hopes, and thoughts? Who was
+doing this? And Pierre felt that it was no one.
+
+It was a system--a concurrence of circumstances.
+
+A system of some sort was killing him--Pierre--depriving him of life, of
+everything, annihilating him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+From Prince Shcherbatov's house the prisoners were led straight down the
+Virgin's Field, to the left of the nunnery, as far as a kitchen garden
+in which a post had been set up. Beyond that post a fresh pit had been
+dug in the ground, and near the post and the pit a large crowd stood in
+a semicircle. The crowd consisted of a few Russians and many of
+Napoleon's soldiers who were not on duty--Germans, Italians, and
+Frenchmen, in a variety of uniforms. To the right and left of the post
+stood rows of French troops in blue uniforms with red epaulets and high
+boots and shakos.
+
+The prisoners were placed in a certain order, according to the list
+(Pierre was sixth), and were led to the post. Several drums suddenly
+began to beat on both sides of them, and at that sound Pierre felt as if
+part of his soul had been torn away. He lost the power of thinking or
+understanding. He could only hear and see. And he had only one wish--
+that the frightful thing that had to happen should happen quickly.
+Pierre looked round at his fellow prisoners and scrutinized them.
+
+The two first were convicts with shaven heads. One was tall and thin,
+the other dark, shaggy, and sinewy, with a flat nose. The third was a
+domestic serf, about forty-five years old, with grizzled hair and a
+plump, well-nourished body. The fourth was a peasant, a very handsome
+man with a broad, light-brown beard and black eyes. The fifth was a
+factory hand, a thin, sallow-faced lad of eighteen in a loose coat.
+
+Pierre heard the French consulting whether to shoot them separately or
+two at a time. "In couples," replied the officer in command in a calm
+voice. There was a stir in the ranks of the soldiers and it was evident
+that they were all hurrying--not as men hurry to do something they
+understand, but as people hurry to finish a necessary but unpleasant and
+incomprehensible task.
+
+A French official wearing a scarf came up to the right of the row of
+prisoners and read out the sentence in Russian and in French.
+
+Then two pairs of Frenchmen approached the criminals and at the
+officer's command took the two convicts who stood first in the row. The
+convicts stopped when they reached the post and, while sacks were being
+brought, looked dumbly around as a wounded beast looks at an approaching
+huntsman. One crossed himself continually, the other scratched his back
+and made a movement of the lips resembling a smile. With hurried hands
+the soldiers blindfolded them, drawing the sacks over their heads, and
+bound them to the post.
+
+Twelve sharpshooters with muskets stepped out of the ranks with a firm
+regular tread and halted eight paces from the post. Pierre turned away
+to avoid seeing what was going to happen. Suddenly a crackling, rolling
+noise was heard which seemed to him louder than the most terrific
+thunder, and he looked round. There was some smoke, and the Frenchmen
+were doing something near the pit, with pale faces and trembling hands.
+Two more prisoners were led up. In the same way and with similar looks,
+these two glanced vainly at the onlookers with only a silent appeal for
+protection in their eyes, evidently unable to understand or believe what
+was going to happen to them. They could not believe it because they
+alone knew what their life meant to them, and so they neither understood
+nor believed that it could be taken from them.
+
+Again Pierre did not wish to look and again turned away; but again the
+sound as of a frightful explosion struck his ear, and at the same moment
+he saw smoke, blood, and the pale, scared faces of the Frenchmen who
+were again doing something by the post, their trembling hands impeding
+one another. Pierre, breathing heavily, looked around as if asking what
+it meant. The same question was expressed in all the looks that met his.
+
+On the faces of all the Russians and of the French soldiers and officers
+without exception, he read the same dismay, horror, and conflict that
+were in his own heart. "But who, after all, is doing this? They are all
+suffering as I am. Who then is it? Who?" flashed for an instant through
+his mind.
+
+"Sharpshooters of the 86th, forward!" shouted someone. The fifth
+prisoner, the one next to Pierre, was led away--alone. Pierre did not
+understand that he was saved, that he and the rest had been brought
+there only to witness the execution. With ever-growing horror, and no
+sense of joy or relief, he gazed at what was taking place. The fifth man
+was the factory lad in the loose cloak. The moment they laid hands on
+him he sprang aside in terror and clutched at Pierre. (Pierre shuddered
+and shook himself free.) The lad was unable to walk. They dragged him
+along, holding him up under the arms, and he screamed. When they got him
+to the post he grew quiet, as if he suddenly understood something.
+Whether he understood that screaming was useless or whether he thought
+it incredible that men should kill him, at any rate he took his stand at
+the post, waiting to be blindfolded like the others, and like a wounded
+animal looked around him with glittering eyes.
+
+Pierre was no longer able to turn away and close his eyes. His curiosity
+and agitation, like that of the whole crowd, reached the highest pitch
+at this fifth murder. Like the others this fifth man seemed calm; he
+wrapped his loose cloak closer and rubbed one bare foot with the other.
+
+When they began to blindfold him he himself adjusted the knot which hurt
+the back of his head; then when they propped him against the
+bloodstained post, he leaned back and, not being comfortable in that
+position, straightened himself, adjusted his feet, and leaned back again
+more comfortably. Pierre did not take his eyes from him and did not miss
+his slightest movement.
+
+Probably a word of command was given and was followed by the reports of
+eight muskets; but try as he would Pierre could not afterwards remember
+having heard the slightest sound of the shots. He only saw how the
+workman suddenly sank down on the cords that held him, how blood showed
+itself in two places, how the ropes slackened under the weight of the
+hanging body, and how the workman sat down, his head hanging unnaturally
+and one leg bent under him. Pierre ran up to the post. No one hindered
+him. Pale, frightened people were doing something around the workman.
+The lower jaw of an old Frenchman with a thick mustache trembled as he
+untied the ropes. The body collapsed. The soldiers dragged it awkwardly
+from the post and began pushing it into the pit.
+
+They all plainly and certainly knew that they were criminals who must
+hide the traces of their guilt as quickly as possible.
+
+Pierre glanced into the pit and saw that the factory lad was lying with
+his knees close up to his head and one shoulder higher than the other.
+That shoulder rose and fell rhythmically and convulsively, but spadefuls
+of earth were already being thrown over the whole body. One of the
+soldiers, evidently suffering, shouted gruffly and angrily at Pierre to
+go back. But Pierre did not understand him and remained near the post,
+and no one drove him away.
+
+When the pit had been filled up a command was given. Pierre was taken
+back to his place, and the rows of troops on both sides of the post made
+a half turn and went past it at a measured pace. The twenty-four
+sharpshooters with discharged muskets, standing in the center of the
+circle, ran back to their places as the companies passed by.
+
+Pierre gazed now with dazed eyes at these sharpshooters who ran in
+couples out of the circle. All but one rejoined their companies. This
+one, a young soldier, his face deadly pale, his shako pushed back, and
+his musket resting on the ground, still stood near the pit at the spot
+from which he had fired. He swayed like a drunken man, taking some steps
+forward and back to save himself from falling. An old, noncommissioned
+officer ran out of the ranks and taking him by the elbow dragged him to
+his company. The crowd of Russians and Frenchmen began to disperse. They
+all went away silently and with drooping heads.
+
+"That will teach them to start fires," said one of the Frenchmen.
+
+Pierre glanced round at the speaker and saw that it was a soldier who
+was trying to find some relief after what had been done, but was not
+able to do so. Without finishing what he had begun to say he made a
+hopeless movement with his arm and went away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+After the execution Pierre was separated from the rest of the prisoners
+and placed alone in a small, ruined, and befouled church.
+
+Toward evening a noncommissioned officer entered with two soldiers and
+told him that he had been pardoned and would now go to the barracks for
+the prisoners of war. Without understanding what was said to him, Pierre
+got up and went with the soldiers. They took him to the upper end of the
+field, where there were some sheds built of charred planks, beams, and
+battens, and led him into one of them. In the darkness some twenty
+different men surrounded Pierre. He looked at them without understanding
+who they were, why they were there, or what they wanted of him. He heard
+what they said, but did not understand the meaning of the words and made
+no kind of deduction from or application of them. He replied to
+questions they put to him, but did not consider who was listening to his
+replies, nor how they would understand them. He looked at their faces
+and figures, but they all seemed to him equally meaningless.
+
+From the moment Pierre had witnessed those terrible murders committed by
+men who did not wish to commit them, it was as if the mainspring of his
+life, on which everything depended and which made everything appear
+alive, had suddenly been wrenched out and everything had collapsed into
+a heap of meaningless rubbish. Though he did not acknowledge it to
+himself, his faith in the right ordering of the universe, in humanity,
+in his own soul, and in God, had been destroyed. He had experienced this
+before, but never so strongly as now. When similar doubts had assailed
+him before, they had been the result of his own wrongdoing, and at the
+bottom of his heart he had felt that relief from his despair and from
+those doubts was to be found within himself. But now he felt that the
+universe had crumbled before his eyes and only meaningless ruins
+remained, and this not by any fault of his own. He felt that it was not
+in his power to regain faith in the meaning of life.
+
+Around him in the darkness men were standing and evidently something
+about him interested them greatly. They were telling him something and
+asking him something. Then they led him away somewhere, and at last he
+found himself in a corner of the shed among men who were laughing and
+talking on all sides.
+
+"Well, then, mates... that very prince who..." some voice at the other
+end of the shed was saying, with a strong emphasis on the word who.
+
+Sitting silent and motionless on a heap of straw against the wall,
+Pierre sometimes opened and sometimes closed his eyes. But as soon as he
+closed them he saw before him the dreadful face of the factory lad--
+especially dreadful because of its simplicity--and the faces of the
+murderers, even more dreadful because of their disquiet. And he opened
+his eyes again and stared vacantly into the darkness around him.
+
+Beside him in a stooping position sat a small man of whose presence he
+was first made aware by a strong smell of perspiration which came from
+him every time he moved. This man was doing something to his legs in the
+darkness, and though Pierre could not see his face he felt that the man
+continually glanced at him. On growing used to the darkness Pierre saw
+that the man was taking off his leg bands, and the way he did it aroused
+Pierre's interest.
+
+Having unwound the string that tied the band on one leg, he carefully
+coiled it up and immediately set to work on the other leg, glancing up
+at Pierre. While one hand hung up the first string the other was already
+unwinding the band on the second leg. In this way, having carefully
+removed the leg bands by deft circular motions of his arm following one
+another uninterruptedly, the man hung the leg bands up on some pegs
+fixed above his head. Then he took out a knife, cut something, closed
+the knife, placed it under the head of his bed, and, seating himself
+comfortably, clasped his arms round his lifted knees and fixed his eyes
+on Pierre. The latter was conscious of something pleasant, comforting,
+and well-rounded in these deft movements, in the man's well-ordered
+arrangements in his corner, and even in his very smell, and he looked at
+the man without taking his eyes from him.
+
+"You've seen a lot of trouble, sir, eh?" the little man suddenly said.
+
+And there was so much kindliness and simplicity in his singsong voice
+that Pierre tried to reply, but his jaw trembled and he felt tears
+rising to his eyes. The little fellow, giving Pierre no time to betray
+his confusion, instantly continued in the same pleasant tones:
+
+"Eh, lad, don't fret!" said he, in the tender singsong caressing voice
+old Russian peasant women employ. "Don't fret, friend--'suffer an hour,
+live for an age!' that's how it is, my dear fellow. And here we live,
+thank heaven, without offense. Among these folk, too, there are good men
+as well as bad," said he, and still speaking, he turned on his knees
+with a supple movement, got up, coughed, and went off to another part of
+the shed.
+
+"Eh, you rascal!" Pierre heard the same kind voice saying at the other
+end of the shed. "So you've come, you rascal? She remembers... Now, now,
+that'll do!"
+
+And the soldier, pushing away a little dog that was jumping up at him,
+returned to his place and sat down. In his hands he had something
+wrapped in a rag.
+
+"Here, eat a bit, sir," said he, resuming his former respectful tone as
+he unwrapped and offered Pierre some baked potatoes. "We had soup for
+dinner and the potatoes are grand!"
+
+Pierre had not eaten all day and the smell of the potatoes seemed
+extremely pleasant to him. He thanked the soldier and began to eat.
+
+"Well, are they all right?" said the soldier with a smile. "You should
+do like this."
+
+He took a potato, drew out his clasp knife, cut the potato into two
+equal halves on the palm of his hand, sprinkled some salt on it from the
+rag, and handed it to Pierre.
+
+"The potatoes are grand!" he said once more. "Eat some like that!"
+
+Pierre thought he had never eaten anything that tasted better.
+
+"Oh, I'm all right," said he, "but why did they shoot those poor
+fellows? The last one was hardly twenty."
+
+"Tss, tt...!" said the little man. "Ah, what a sin... what a sin!" he
+added quickly, and as if his words were always waiting ready in his
+mouth and flew out involuntarily he went on: "How was it, sir, that you
+stayed in Moscow?"
+
+"I didn't think they would come so soon. I stayed accidentally," replied
+Pierre.
+
+"And how did they arrest you, dear lad? At your house?"
+
+"No, I went to look at the fire, and they arrested me there, and tried
+me as an incendiary."
+
+"Where there's law there's injustice," put in the little man.
+
+"And have you been here long?" Pierre asked as he munched the last of
+the potato.
+
+"I? It was last Sunday they took me, out of a hospital in Moscow."
+
+"Why, are you a soldier then?"
+
+"Yes, we are soldiers of the Apsheron regiment. I was dying of fever. We
+weren't told anything. There were some twenty of us lying there. We had
+no idea, never guessed at all."
+
+"And do you feel sad here?" Pierre inquired.
+
+"How can one help it, lad? My name is Platon, and the surname is
+Karataev," he added, evidently wishing to make it easier for Pierre to
+address him. "They call me 'little falcon' in the regiment. How is one
+to help feeling sad? Moscow--she's the mother of cities. How can one see
+all this and not feel sad? But 'the maggot gnaws the cabbage, yet dies
+first'; that's what the old folks used to tell us," he added rapidly.
+
+"What? What did you say?" asked Pierre.
+
+"Who? I?" said Karataev. "I say things happen not as we plan but as God
+judges," he replied, thinking that he was repeating what he had said
+before, and immediately continued:
+
+"Well, and you, have you a family estate, sir? And a house? So you have
+abundance, then? And a housewife? And your old parents, are they still
+living?" he asked.
+
+And though it was too dark for Pierre to see, he felt that a suppressed
+smile of kindliness puckered the soldier's lips as he put these
+questions. He seemed grieved that Pierre had no parents, especially that
+he had no mother.
+
+"A wife for counsel, a mother-in-law for welcome, but there's none as
+dear as one's own mother!" said he. "Well, and have you little ones?" he
+went on asking.
+
+Again Pierre's negative answer seemed to distress him, and he hastened
+to add:
+
+"Never mind! You're young folks yet, and please God may still have some.
+The great thing is to live in harmony...."
+
+"But it's all the same now," Pierre could not help saying.
+
+"Ah, my dear fellow!" rejoined Karataev, "never decline a prison or a
+beggar's sack!"
+
+He seated himself more comfortably and coughed, evidently preparing to
+tell a long story.
+
+"Well, my dear fellow, I was still living at home," he began. "We had a
+well-to-do homestead, plenty of land, we peasants lived well and our
+house was one to thank God for. When Father and we went out mowing there
+were seven of us. We lived well. We were real peasants. It so
+happened..."
+
+And Platon Karataev told a long story of how he had gone into someone's
+copse to take wood, how he had been caught by the keeper, had been
+tried, flogged, and sent to serve as a soldier.
+
+"Well, lad," and a smile changed the tone of his voice "we thought it
+was a misfortune but it turned out a blessing! If it had not been for my
+sin, my brother would have had to go as a soldier. But he, my younger
+brother, had five little ones, while I, you see, only left a wife
+behind. We had a little girl, but God took her before I went as a
+soldier. I come home on leave and I'll tell you how it was, I look and
+see that they are living better than before. The yard full of cattle,
+the women at home, two brothers away earning wages, and only Michael the
+youngest, at home. Father, he says, 'All my children are the same to me:
+it hurts the same whichever finger gets bitten. But if Platon hadn't
+been shaved for a soldier, Michael would have had to go.' called us all
+to him and, will you believe it, placed us in front of the icons.
+'Michael,' he says, 'come here and bow down to his feet; and you, young
+woman, you bow down too; and you, grandchildren, also bow down before
+him! Do you understand?' he says. That's how it is, dear fellow. Fate
+looks for a head. But we are always judging, 'that's not well--that's
+not right!' Our luck is like water in a dragnet: you pull at it and it
+bulges, but when you've drawn it out it's empty! That's how it is."
+
+And Platon shifted his seat on the straw.
+
+After a short silence he rose.
+
+"Well, I think you must be sleepy," said he, and began rapidly crossing
+himself and repeating:
+
+"Lord Jesus Christ, holy Saint Nicholas, Frola and Lavra! Lord Jesus
+Christ, holy Saint Nicholas, Frola and Lavra! Lord Jesus Christ, have
+mercy on us and save us!" he concluded, then bowed to the ground, got
+up, sighed, and sat down again on his heap of straw. "That's the way.
+Lay me down like a stone, O God, and raise me up like a loaf," he
+muttered as he lay down, pulling his coat over him.
+
+"What prayer was that you were saying?" asked Pierre.
+
+"Eh?" murmured Platon, who had almost fallen asleep. "What was I saying?
+I was praying. Don't you pray?"
+
+"Yes, I do," said Pierre. "But what was that you said: Frola and Lavra?"
+
+"Well, of course," replied Platon quickly, "the horses' saints. One must
+pity the animals too. Eh, the rascal! Now you've curled up and got warm,
+you daughter of a bitch!" said Karataev, touching the dog that lay at
+his feet, and again turning over he fell asleep immediately.
+
+Sounds of crying and screaming came from somewhere in the distance
+outside, and flames were visible through the cracks of the shed, but
+inside it was quiet and dark. For a long time Pierre did not sleep, but
+lay with eyes open in the darkness, listening to the regular snoring of
+Platon who lay beside him, and he felt that the world that had been
+shattered was once more stirring in his soul with a new beauty and on
+new and unshakable foundations.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+Twenty-three soldiers, three officers, and two officials were confined
+in the shed in which Pierre had been placed and where he remained for
+four weeks.
+
+When Pierre remembered them afterwards they all seemed misty figures to
+him except Platon Karataev, who always remained in his mind a most vivid
+and precious memory and the personification of everything Russian,
+kindly, and round. When Pierre saw his neighbor next morning at dawn the
+first impression of him, as of something round, was fully confirmed:
+Platon's whole figure--in a French overcoat girdled with a cord, a
+soldier's cap, and bast shoes--was round. His head was quite round, his
+back, chest, shoulders, and even his arms, which he held as if ever
+ready to embrace something, were rounded, his pleasant smile and his
+large, gentle brown eyes were also round.
+
+Platon Karataev must have been fifty, judging by his stories of
+campaigns he had been in, told as by an old soldier. He did not himself
+know his age and was quite unable to determine it. But his brilliantly
+white, strong teeth which showed in two unbroken semicircles when he
+laughed--as he often did--were all sound and good, there was not a gray
+hair in his beard or on his head, and his whole body gave an impression
+of suppleness and especially of firmness and endurance.
+
+His face, despite its fine, rounded wrinkles, had an expression of
+innocence and youth, his voice was pleasant and musical. But the chief
+peculiarity of his speech was its directness and appositeness. It was
+evident that he never considered what he had said or was going to say,
+and consequently the rapidity and justice of his intonation had an
+irresistible persuasiveness.
+
+His physical strength and agility during the first days of his
+imprisonment were such that he seemed not to know what fatigue and
+sickness meant. Every night before lying down, he said: "Lord, lay me
+down as a stone and raise me up as a loaf!" and every morning on getting
+up, he said: "I lay down and curled up, I get up and shake myself." And
+indeed he only had to lie down, to fall asleep like a stone, and he only
+had to shake himself, to be ready without a moment's delay for some
+work, just as children are ready to play directly they awake. He could
+do everything, not very well but not badly. He baked, cooked, sewed,
+planed, and mended boots. He was always busy, and only at night allowed
+himself conversation--of which he was fond--and songs. He did not sing
+like a trained singer who knows he is listened to, but like the birds,
+evidently giving vent to the sounds in the same way that one stretches
+oneself or walks about to get rid of stiffness, and the sounds were
+always high-pitched, mournful, delicate, and almost feminine, and his
+face at such times was very serious.
+
+Having been taken prisoner and allowed his beard to grow, he seemed to
+have thrown off all that had been forced upon him--everything military
+and alien to himself--and had returned to his former peasant habits.
+
+"A soldier on leave--a shirt outside breeches," he would say.
+
+He did not like talking about his life as a soldier, though he did not
+complain, and often mentioned that he had not been flogged once during
+the whole of his army service. When he related anything it was generally
+some old and evidently precious memory of his "Christian" life, as he
+called his peasant existence. The proverbs, of which his talk was full,
+were for the most part not the coarse and indecent saws soldiers employ,
+but those folk sayings which taken without a context seem so
+insignificant, but when used appositely suddenly acquire a significance
+of profound wisdom.
+
+He would often say the exact opposite of what he had said on a previous
+occasion, yet both would be right. He liked to talk and he talked well,
+adorning his speech with terms of endearment and with folk sayings which
+Pierre thought he invented himself, but the chief charm of his talk lay
+in the fact that the commonest events--sometimes just such as Pierre had
+witnessed without taking notice of them--assumed in Karataev's a
+character of solemn fitness. He liked to hear the folk tales one of the
+soldiers used to tell of an evening (they were always the same), but
+most of all he liked to hear stories of real life. He would smile
+joyfully when listening to such stories, now and then putting in a word
+or asking a question to make the moral beauty of what he was told clear
+to himself. Karataev had no attachments, friendships, or love, as Pierre
+understood them, but loved and lived affectionately with everything life
+brought him in contact with, particularly with man--not any particular
+man, but those with whom he happened to be. He loved his dog, his
+comrades, the French, and Pierre who was his neighbor, but Pierre felt
+that in spite of Karataev's affectionate tenderness for him (by which he
+unconsciously gave Pierre's spiritual life its due) he would not have
+grieved for a moment at parting from him. And Pierre began to feel in
+the same way toward Karataev.
+
+To all the other prisoners Platon Karataev seemed a most ordinary
+soldier. They called him "little falcon" or "Platosha," chaffed him
+good-naturedly, and sent him on errands. But to Pierre he always
+remained what he had seemed that first night: an unfathomable, rounded,
+eternal personification of the spirit of simplicity and truth.
+
+Platon Karataev knew nothing by heart except his prayers. When he began
+to speak he seemed not to know how he would conclude.
+
+Sometimes Pierre, struck by the meaning of his words, would ask him to
+repeat them, but Platon could never recall what he had said a moment
+before, just as he never could repeat to Pierre the words of his
+favorite song: native and birch tree and my heart is sick occurred in
+it, but when spoken and not sung, no meaning could be got out of it. He
+did not, and could not, understand the meaning of words apart from their
+context. Every word and action of his was the manifestation of an
+activity unknown to him, which was his life. But his life, as he
+regarded it, had no meaning as a separate thing. It had meaning only as
+part of a whole of which he was always conscious. His words and actions
+flowed from him as evenly, inevitably, and spontaneously as fragrance
+exhales from a flower. He could not understand the value or significance
+of any word or deed taken separately.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+When Princess Mary heard from Nicholas that her brother was with the
+Rostovs at Yaroslavl she at once prepared to go there, in spite of her
+aunt's efforts to dissuade her--and not merely to go herself but to take
+her nephew with her. Whether it were difficult or easy, possible or
+impossible, she did not ask and did not want to know: it was her duty,
+not only to herself, to be near her brother who was perhaps dying, but
+to do everything possible to take his son to him, and so she prepared to
+set off. That she had not heard from Prince Andrew himself, Princess
+Mary attributed to his being too weak to write or to his considering the
+long journey too hard and too dangerous for her and his son.
+
+In a few days Princess Mary was ready to start. Her equipages were the
+huge family coach in which she had traveled to Voronezh, a semiopen
+trap, and a baggage cart. With her traveled Mademoiselle Bourienne,
+little Nicholas and his tutor, her old nurse, three maids, Tikhon, and a
+young footman and courier her aunt had sent to accompany her.
+
+The usual route through Moscow could not be thought of, and the
+roundabout way Princess Mary was obliged to take through Lipetsk,
+Ryazan, Vladimir, and Shuya was very long and, as post horses were not
+everywhere obtainable, very difficult, and near Ryazan where the French
+were said to have shown themselves was even dangerous.
+
+During this difficult journey Mademoiselle Bourienne, Dessalles, and
+Princess Mary's servants were astonished at her energy and firmness of
+spirit. She went to bed later and rose earlier than any of them, and no
+difficulties daunted her. Thanks to her activity and energy, which
+infected her fellow travelers, they approached Yaroslavl by the end of
+the second week.
+
+The last days of her stay in Voronezh had been the happiest of her life.
+Her love for Rostov no longer tormented or agitated her. It filled her
+whole soul, had become an integral part of herself, and she no longer
+struggled against it. Latterly she had become convinced that she loved
+and was beloved, though she never said this definitely to herself in
+words. She had become convinced of it at her last interview with
+Nicholas, when he had come to tell her that her brother was with the
+Rostovs. Not by a single word had Nicholas alluded to the fact that
+Prince Andrew's relations with Natasha might, if he recovered, be
+renewed, but Princess Mary saw by his face that he knew and thought of
+this.
+
+Yet in spite of that, his relation to her--considerate, delicate, and
+loving--not only remained unchanged, but it sometimes seemed to Princess
+Mary that he was even glad that the family connection between them
+allowed him to express his friendship more freely. She knew that she
+loved for the first and only time in her life and felt that she was
+beloved, and was happy in regard to it.
+
+But this happiness on one side of her spiritual nature did not prevent
+her feeling grief for her brother with full force; on the contrary, that
+spiritual tranquility on the one side made it the more possible for her
+to give full play to her feeling for her brother. That feeling was so
+strong at the moment of leaving Voronezh that those who saw her off, as
+they looked at her careworn, despairing face, felt sure she would fall
+ill on the journey. But the very difficulties and preoccupations of the
+journey, which she took so actively in hand, saved her for a while from
+her grief and gave her strength.
+
+As always happens when traveling, Princess Mary thought only of the
+journey itself, forgetting its object. But as she approached Yaroslavl
+the thought of what might await her there--not after many days, but that
+very evening--again presented itself to her and her agitation increased
+to its utmost limit.
+
+The courier who had been sent on in advance to find out where the
+Rostovs were staying in Yaroslavl, and in what condition Prince Andrew
+was, when he met the big coach just entering the town gates was appalled
+by the terrible pallor of the princess' face that looked out at him from
+the window.
+
+"I have found out everything, your excellency: the Rostovs are staying
+at the merchant Bronnikov's house, in the Square not far from here,
+right above the Volga," said the courier.
+
+Princess Mary looked at him with frightened inquiry, not understanding
+why he did not reply to what she chiefly wanted to know: how was her
+brother? Mademoiselle Bourienne put that question for her.
+
+"How is the prince?" she asked.
+
+"His excellency is staying in the same house with them."
+
+"Then he is alive," thought Princess Mary, and asked in a low voice:
+"How is he?"
+
+"The servants say he is still the same."
+
+What "still the same" might mean Princess Mary did not ask, but with an
+unnoticed glance at little seven-year-old Nicholas, who was sitting in
+front of her looking with pleasure at the town, she bowed her head and
+did not raise it again till the heavy coach, rumbling, shaking and
+swaying, came to a stop. The carriage steps clattered as they were let
+down.
+
+The carriage door was opened. On the left there was water--a great
+river--and on the right a porch. There were people at the entrance:
+servants, and a rosy girl with a large plait of black hair, smiling as
+it seemed to Princess Mary in an unpleasantly affected way. (This was
+Sonya.) Princess Mary ran up the steps. "This way, this way!" said the
+girl, with the same artificial smile, and the princess found herself in
+the hall facing an elderly woman of Oriental type, who came rapidly to
+meet her with a look of emotion. This was the countess. She embraced
+Princess Mary and kissed her.
+
+"Mon enfant!" she muttered, "je vous aime et vous connais depuis
+longtemps." *
+
+
+* "My child! I love you and have known you a long time."
+
+
+Despite her excitement, Princess Mary realized that this was the
+countess and that it was necessary to say something to her. Hardly
+knowing how she did it, she contrived to utter a few polite phrases in
+French in the same tone as those that had been addressed to her, and
+asked: "How is he?"
+
+"The doctor says that he is not in danger," said the countess, but as
+she spoke she raised her eyes with a sigh, and her gesture conveyed a
+contradiction of her words.
+
+"Where is he? Can I see him--can I?" asked the princess.
+
+"One moment, Princess, one moment, my dear! Is this his son?" said the
+countess, turning to little Nicholas who was coming in with Dessalles.
+"There will be room for everybody, this is a big house. Oh, what a
+lovely boy!"
+
+The countess took Princess Mary into the drawing room, where Sonya was
+talking to Mademoiselle Bourienne. The countess caressed the boy, and
+the old count came in and welcomed the princess. He had changed very
+much since Princess Mary had last seen him. Then he had been a brisk,
+cheerful, self-assured old man; now he seemed a pitiful, bewildered
+person. While talking to Princess Mary he continually looked round as if
+asking everyone whether he was doing the right thing. After the
+destruction of Moscow and of his property, thrown out of his accustomed
+groove he seemed to have lost the sense of his own significance and to
+feel that there was no longer a place for him in life.
+
+In spite of her one desire to see her brother as soon as possible, and
+her vexation that at the moment when all she wanted was to see him they
+should be trying to entertain her and pretending to admire her nephew,
+the princess noticed all that was going on around her and felt the
+necessity of submitting, for a time, to this new order of things which
+she had entered. She knew it to be necessary, and though it was hard for
+her she was not vexed with these people.
+
+"This is my niece," said the count, introducing Sonya--"You don't know
+her, Princess?"
+
+Princess Mary turned to Sonya and, trying to stifle the hostile feeling
+that arose in her toward the girl, she kissed her. But she felt
+oppressed by the fact that the mood of everyone around her was so far
+from what was in her own heart.
+
+"Where is he?" she asked again, addressing them all.
+
+"He is downstairs. Natasha is with him," answered Sonya, flushing. "We
+have sent to ask. I think you must be tired, Princess."
+
+Tears of vexation showed themselves in Princess Mary's eyes. She turned
+away and was about to ask the countess again how to go to him, when
+light, impetuous, and seemingly buoyant steps were heard at the door.
+The princess looked round and saw Natasha coming in, almost running--
+that Natasha whom she had liked so little at their meeting in Moscow
+long since.
+
+But hardly had the princess looked at Natasha's face before she realized
+that here was a real comrade in her grief, and consequently a friend.
+She ran to meet her, embraced her, and began to cry on her shoulder.
+
+As soon as Natasha, sitting at the head of Prince Andrew's bed, heard of
+Princess Mary's arrival, she softly left his room and hastened to her
+with those swift steps that had sounded buoyant to Princess Mary.
+
+There was only one expression on her agitated face when she ran into the
+drawing room--that of love--boundless love for him, for her, and for all
+that was near to the man she loved; and of pity, suffering for others,
+and passionate desire to give herself entirely to helping them. It was
+plain that at that moment there was in Natasha's heart no thought of
+herself or of her own relations with Prince Andrew.
+
+Princess Mary, with her acute sensibility, understood all this at the
+first glance at Natasha's face, and wept on her shoulder with sorrowful
+pleasure.
+
+"Come, come to him, Mary," said Natasha, leading her into the other
+room.
+
+Princess Mary raised her head, dried her eyes, and turned to Natasha.
+She felt that from her she would be able to understand and learn
+everything.
+
+"How..." she began her question but stopped short.
+
+She felt that it was impossible to ask, or to answer, in words.
+Natasha's face and eyes would have to tell her all more clearly and
+profoundly.
+
+Natasha was gazing at her, but seemed afraid and in doubt whether to say
+all she knew or not; she seemed to feel that before those luminous eyes
+which penetrated into the very depths of her heart, it was impossible
+not to tell the whole truth which she saw. And suddenly, Natasha's lips
+twitched, ugly wrinkles gathered round her mouth, and covering her face
+with her hands she burst into sobs.
+
+Princess Mary understood.
+
+But she still hoped, and asked, in words she herself did not trust:
+
+"But how is his wound? What is his general condition?"
+
+"You, you... will see," was all Natasha could say.
+
+They sat a little while downstairs near his room till they had left off
+crying and were able to go to him with calm faces.
+
+"How has his whole illness gone? Is it long since he grew worse? When
+did this happen?" Princess Mary inquired.
+
+Natasha told her that at first there had been danger from his feverish
+condition and the pain he suffered, but at Troitsa that had passed and
+the doctor had only been afraid of gangrene. That danger had also
+passed. When they reached Yaroslavl the wound had begun to fester
+(Natasha knew all about such things as festering) and the doctor had
+said that the festering might take a normal course. Then fever set in,
+but the doctor had said the fever was not very serious.
+
+"But two days ago this suddenly happened," said Natasha, struggling with
+her sobs. "I don't know why, but you will see what he is like."
+
+"Is he weaker? Thinner?" asked the princess.
+
+"No, it's not that, but worse. You will see. O, Mary, he is too good, he
+cannot, cannot live, because..."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+When Natasha opened Prince Andrew's door with a familiar movement and
+let Princess Mary pass into the room before her, the princess felt the
+sobs in her throat. Hard as she had tried to prepare herself, and now
+tried to remain tranquil, she knew that she would be unable to look at
+him without tears.
+
+The princess understood what Natasha had meant by the words: "two days
+ago this suddenly happened." She understood those words to mean that he
+had suddenly softened and that this softening and gentleness were signs
+of approaching death. As she stepped to the door she already saw in
+imagination Andrew's face as she remembered it in childhood, a gentle,
+mild, sympathetic face which he had rarely shown, and which therefore
+affected her very strongly. She was sure he would speak soft, tender
+words to her such as her father had uttered before his death, and that
+she would not be able to bear it and would burst into sobs in his
+presence. Yet sooner or later it had to be, and she went in. The sobs
+rose higher and higher in her throat as she more and more clearly
+distinguished his form and her shortsighted eyes tried to make out his
+features, and then she saw his face and met his gaze.
+
+He was lying in a squirrel-fur dressing gown on a divan, surrounded by
+pillows. He was thin and pale. In one thin, translucently white hand he
+held a handkerchief, while with the other he stroked the delicate
+mustache he had grown, moving his fingers slowly. His eyes gazed at them
+as they entered.
+
+On seeing his face and meeting his eyes Princess Mary's pace suddenly
+slackened, she felt her tears dry up and her sobs ceased. She suddenly
+felt guilty and grew timid on catching the expression of his face and
+eyes.
+
+"But in what am I to blame?" she asked herself. And his cold, stern look
+replied: "Because you are alive and thinking of the living, while I..."
+
+In the deep gaze that seemed to look not outwards but inwards there was
+an almost hostile expression as he slowly regarded his sister and
+Natasha.
+
+He kissed his sister, holding her hand in his as was their wont.
+
+"How are you, Mary? How did you manage to get here?" said he in a voice
+as calm and aloof as his look.
+
+Had he screamed in agony, that scream would not have struck such horror
+into Princess Mary's heart as the tone of his voice.
+
+"And have you brought little Nicholas?" he asked in the same slow, quiet
+manner and with an obvious effort to remember.
+
+"How are you now?" said Princess Mary, herself surprised at what she was
+saying.
+
+"That, my dear, you must ask the doctor," he replied, and again making
+an evident effort to be affectionate, he said with his lips only (his
+words clearly did not correspond to his thoughts):
+
+"Merci, chere amie, d'etre venue." *
+
+
+* "Thank you for coming, my dear."
+
+Princess Mary pressed his hand. The pressure made him wince just
+perceptibly. He was silent, and she did not know what to say. She now
+understood what had happened to him two days before. In his words, his
+tone, and especially in that calm, almost antagonistic look could be
+felt an estrangement from everything belonging to this world, terrible
+in one who is alive. Evidently only with an effort did he understand
+anything living; but it was obvious that he failed to understand, not
+because he lacked the power to do so but because he understood something
+else--something the living did not and could not understand--and which
+wholly occupied his mind.
+
+"There, you see how strangely fate has brought us together," said he,
+breaking the silence and pointing to Natasha. "She looks after me all
+the time."
+
+Princess Mary heard him and did not understand how he could say such a
+thing. He, the sensitive, tender Prince Andrew, how could he say that,
+before her whom he loved and who loved him? Had he expected to live he
+could not have said those words in that offensively cold tone. If he had
+not known that he was dying, how could he have failed to pity her and
+how could he speak like that in her presence? The only explanation was
+that he was indifferent, because something else, much more important,
+had been revealed to him.
+
+The conversation was cold and disconnected and continually broke off.
+
+"Mary came by way of Ryazan," said Natasha.
+
+Prince Andrew did not notice that she called his sister Mary, and only
+after calling her so in his presence did Natasha notice it herself.
+
+"Really?" he asked.
+
+"They told her that all Moscow has been burned down, and that..."
+
+Natasha stopped. It was impossible to talk. It was plain that he was
+making an effort to listen, but could not do so.
+
+"Yes, they say it's burned," he said. "It's a great pity," and he gazed
+straight before him, absently stroking his mustache with his fingers.
+
+"And so you have met Count Nicholas, Mary?" Prince Andrew suddenly said,
+evidently wishing to speak pleasantly to them. "He wrote here that he
+took a great liking to you," he went on simply and calmly, evidently
+unable to understand all the complex significance his words had for
+living people. "If you liked him too, it would be a good thing for you
+to get married," he added rather more quickly, as if pleased at having
+found words he had long been seeking.
+
+Princess Mary heard his words but they had no meaning for her, except as
+a proof of how far away he now was from everything living.
+
+"Why talk of me?" she said quietly and glanced at Natasha.
+
+Natasha, who felt her glance, did not look at her. All three were again
+silent.
+
+"Andrew, would you like..." Princess Mary suddenly said in a trembling
+voice, "would you like to see little Nicholas? He is always talking
+about you!"
+
+Prince Andrew smiled just perceptibly and for the first time, but
+Princess Mary, who knew his face so well, saw with horror that he did
+not smile with pleasure or affection for his son, but with quiet, gentle
+irony because he thought she was trying what she believed to be the last
+means of arousing him.
+
+"Yes, I shall be very glad to see him. Is he quite well?"
+
+When little Nicholas was brought into Prince Andrew's room he looked at
+his father with frightened eyes, but did not cry, because no one else
+was crying. Prince Andrew kissed him and evidently did not know what to
+say to him.
+
+When Nicholas had been led away, Princess Mary again went up to her
+brother, kissed him, and unable to restrain her tears any longer began
+to cry.
+
+He looked at her attentively.
+
+"Is it about Nicholas?" he asked.
+
+Princess Mary nodded her head, weeping.
+
+"Mary, you know the Gosp..." but he broke off.
+
+"What did you say?"
+
+"Nothing. You mustn't cry here," he said, looking at her with the same
+cold expression.
+
+When Princess Mary began to cry, he understood that she was crying at
+the thought that little Nicholas would be left without a father. With a
+great effort he tried to return to life and to see things from their
+point of view.
+
+"Yes, to them it must seem sad!" he thought. "But how simple it is.
+
+"The fowls of the air sow not, neither do they reap, yet your Father
+feedeth them," he said to himself and wished to say to Princess Mary;
+"but no, they will take it their own way, they won't understand! They
+can't understand that all those feelings they prize so--all our
+feelings, all those ideas that seem so important to us, are unnecessary.
+We cannot understand one another," and he remained silent.
+
+Prince Andrew's little son was seven. He could scarcely read, and knew
+nothing. After that day he lived through many things, gaining knowledge,
+observation, and experience, but had he possessed all the faculties he
+afterwards acquired, he could not have had a better or more profound
+understanding of the meaning of the scene he had witnessed between his
+father, Mary, and Natasha, than he had then. He understood it
+completely, and, leaving the room without crying, went silently up to
+Natasha who had come out with him and looked shyly at her with his
+beautiful, thoughtful eyes, then his uplifted, rosy upper lip trembled
+and leaning his head against her he began to cry.
+
+After that he avoided Dessalles and the countess who caressed him and
+either sat alone or came timidly to Princess Mary, or to Natasha of whom
+he seemed even fonder than of his aunt, and clung to them quietly and
+shyly.
+
+When Princess Mary had left Prince Andrew she fully understood what
+Natasha's face had told her. She did not speak any more to Natasha of
+hopes of saving his life. She took turns with her beside his sofa, and
+did not cry any more, but prayed continually, turning in soul to that
+Eternal and Unfathomable, whose presence above the dying man was now so
+evident.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+Not only did Prince Andrew know he would die, but he felt that he was
+dying and was already half dead. He was conscious of an aloofness from
+everything earthly and a strange and joyous lightness of existence.
+Without haste or agitation he awaited what was coming. That inexorable,
+eternal, distant, and unknown the presence of which he had felt
+continually all his life--was now near to him and, by the strange
+lightness he experienced, almost comprehensible and palpable...
+
+
+Formerly he had feared the end. He had twice experienced that terribly
+tormenting fear of death--the end--but now he no longer understood that
+fear.
+
+He had felt it for the first time when the shell spun like a top before
+him, and he looked at the fallow field, the bushes, and the sky, and
+knew that he was face to face with death. When he came to himself after
+being wounded and the flower of eternal, unfettered love had instantly
+unfolded itself in his soul as if freed from the bondage of life that
+had restrained it, he no longer feared death and ceased to think about
+it.
+
+During the hours of solitude, suffering, and partial delirium he spent
+after he was wounded, the more deeply he penetrated into the new
+principle of eternal love revealed to him, the more he unconsciously
+detached himself from earthly life. To love everything and everybody and
+always to sacrifice oneself for love meant not to love anyone, not to
+live this earthly life. And the more imbued he became with that
+principle of love, the more he renounced life and the more completely he
+destroyed that dreadful barrier which--in the absence of such love--
+stands between life and death. When during those first days he
+remembered that he would have to die, he said to himself: "Well, what of
+it? So much the better!"
+
+But after the night in Mytishchi when, half delirious, he had seen her
+for whom he longed appear before him and, having pressed her hand to his
+lips, had shed gentle, happy tears, love for a particular woman again
+crept unobserved into his heart and once more bound him to life. And
+joyful and agitating thoughts began to occupy his mind. Recalling the
+moment at the ambulance station when he had seen Kuragin, he could not
+now regain the feeling he then had, but was tormented by the question
+whether Kuragin was alive. And he dared not inquire.
+
+His illness pursued its normal physical course, but what Natasha
+referred to when she said: "This suddenly happened," had occurred two
+days before Princess Mary arrived. It was the last spiritual struggle
+between life and death, in which death gained the victory. It was the
+unexpected realization of the fact that he still valued life as
+presented to him in the form of his love for Natasha, and a last, though
+ultimately vanquished, attack of terror before the unknown.
+
+It was evening. As usual after dinner he was slightly feverish, and his
+thoughts were preternaturally clear. Sonya was sitting by the table. He
+began to doze. Suddenly a feeling of happiness seized him.
+
+"Ah, she has come!" thought he.
+
+And so it was: in Sonya's place sat Natasha who had just come in
+noiselessly.
+
+Since she had begun looking after him, he had always experienced this
+physical consciousness of her nearness. She was sitting in an armchair
+placed sideways, screening the light of the candle from him, and was
+knitting a stocking. She had learned to knit stockings since Prince
+Andrew had casually mentioned that no one nursed the sick so well as old
+nurses who knit stockings, and that there is something soothing in the
+knitting of stockings. The needles clicked lightly in her slender,
+rapidly moving hands, and he could clearly see the thoughtful profile of
+her drooping face. She moved, and the ball rolled off her knees. She
+started, glanced round at him, and screening the candle with her hand
+stooped carefully with a supple and exact movement, picked up the ball,
+and regained her former position.
+
+He looked at her without moving and saw that she wanted to draw a deep
+breath after stooping, but refrained from doing so and breathed
+cautiously.
+
+At the Troitsa monastery they had spoken of the past, and he had told
+her that if he lived he would always thank God for his wound which had
+brought them together again, but after that they never spoke of the
+future.
+
+"Can it or can it not be?" he now thought as he looked at her and
+listened to the light click of the steel needles. "Can fate have brought
+me to her so strangely only for me to die?... Is it possible that the
+truth of life has been revealed to me only to show me that I have spent
+my life in falsity? I love her more than anything in the world! But what
+am I to do if I love her?" he thought, and he involuntarily groaned,
+from a habit acquired during his sufferings.
+
+On hearing that sound Natasha put down the stocking, leaned nearer to
+him, and suddenly, noticing his shining eyes, stepped lightly up to him
+and bent over him.
+
+"You are not asleep?"
+
+"No, I have been looking at you a long time. I felt you come in. No one
+else gives me that sense of soft tranquillity that you do... that light.
+I want to weep for joy."
+
+Natasha drew closer to him. Her face shone with rapturous joy.
+
+"Natasha, I love you too much! More than anything in the world."
+
+"And I!"--She turned away for an instant. "Why too much?" she asked.
+
+"Why too much?... Well, what do you, what do you feel in your soul, your
+whole soul--shall I live? What do you think?"
+
+"I am sure of it, sure!" Natasha almost shouted, taking hold of both his
+hands with a passionate movement.
+
+He remained silent awhile.
+
+"How good it would be!" and taking her hand he kissed it.
+
+Natasha felt happy and agitated, but at once remembered that this would
+not do and that he had to be quiet.
+
+"But you have not slept," she said, repressing her joy. "Try to sleep...
+please!"
+
+He pressed her hand and released it, and she went back to the candle and
+sat down again in her former position. Twice she turned and looked at
+him, and her eyes met his beaming at her. She set herself a task on her
+stocking and resolved not to turn round till it was finished.
+
+Soon he really shut his eyes and fell asleep. He did not sleep long and
+suddenly awoke with a start and in a cold perspiration.
+
+As he fell asleep he had still been thinking of the subject that now
+always occupied his mind--about life and death, and chiefly about death.
+He felt himself nearer to it.
+
+"Love? What is love?" he thought.
+
+"Love hinders death. Love is life. All, everything that I understand, I
+understand only because I love. Everything is, everything exists, only
+because I love. Everything is united by it alone. Love is God, and to
+die means that I, a particle of love, shall return to the general and
+eternal source." These thoughts seemed to him comforting. But they were
+only thoughts. Something was lacking in them, they were not clear, they
+were too one-sidedly personal and brain-spun. And there was the former
+agitation and obscurity. He fell asleep.
+
+He dreamed that he was lying in the room he really was in, but that he
+was quite well and unwounded. Many various, indifferent, and
+insignificant people appeared before him. He talked to them and
+discussed something trivial. They were preparing to go away somewhere.
+Prince Andrew dimly realized that all this was trivial and that he had
+more important cares, but he continued to speak, surprising them by
+empty witticisms. Gradually, unnoticed, all these persons began to
+disappear and a single question, that of the closed door, superseded all
+else. He rose and went to the door to bolt and lock it. Everything
+depended on whether he was, or was not, in time to lock it. He went, and
+tried to hurry, but his legs refused to move and he knew he would not be
+in time to lock the door though he painfully strained all his powers. He
+was seized by an agonizing fear. And that fear was the fear of death. It
+stood behind the door. But just when he was clumsily creeping toward the
+door, that dreadful something on the other side was already pressing
+against it and forcing its way in. Something not human--death--was
+breaking in through that door, and had to be kept out. He seized the
+door, making a final effort to hold it back--to lock it was no longer
+possible--but his efforts were weak and clumsy and the door, pushed from
+behind by that terror, opened and closed again.
+
+Once again it pushed from outside. His last superhuman efforts were vain
+and both halves of the door noiselessly opened. It entered, and it was
+death, and Prince Andrew died.
+
+But at the instant he died, Prince Andrew remembered that he was asleep,
+and at the very instant he died, having made an effort, he awoke.
+
+"Yes, it was death! I died--and woke up. Yes, death is an awakening!"
+And all at once it grew light in his soul and the veil that had till
+then concealed the unknown was lifted from his spiritual vision. He felt
+as if powers till then confined within him had been liberated, and that
+strange lightness did not again leave him.
+
+When, waking in a cold perspiration, he moved on the divan, Natasha went
+up and asked him what was the matter. He did not answer and looked at
+her strangely, not understanding.
+
+That was what had happened to him two days before Princess Mary's
+arrival. From that day, as the doctor expressed it, the wasting fever
+assumed a malignant character, but what the doctor said did not interest
+Natasha, she saw the terrible moral symptoms which to her were more
+convincing.
+
+From that day an awakening from life came to Prince Andrew together with
+his awakening from sleep. And compared to the duration of life it did
+not seem to him slower than an awakening from sleep compared to the
+duration of a dream.
+
+There was nothing terrible or violent in this comparatively slow
+awakening.
+
+His last days and hours passed in an ordinary and simple way. Both
+Princess Mary and Natasha, who did not leave him, felt this. They did
+not weep or shudder and during these last days they themselves felt that
+they were not attending on him (he was no longer there, he had left
+them) but on what reminded them most closely of him--his body. Both felt
+this so strongly that the outward and terrible side of death did not
+affect them and they did not feel it necessary to foment their grief.
+Neither in his presence nor out of it did they weep, nor did they ever
+talk to one another about him. They felt that they could not express in
+words what they understood.
+
+They both saw that he was sinking slowly and quietly, deeper and deeper,
+away from them, and they both knew that this had to be so and that it
+was right.
+
+He confessed, and received communion: everyone came to take leave of
+him. When they brought his son to him, he pressed his lips to the boy's
+and turned away, not because he felt it hard and sad (Princess Mary and
+Natasha understood that) but simply because he thought it was all that
+was required of him, but when they told him to bless the boy, he did
+what was demanded and looked round as if asking whether there was
+anything else he should do.
+
+When the last convulsions of the body, which the spirit was leaving,
+occurred, Princess Mary and Natasha were present.
+
+"Is it over?" said Princess Mary when his body had for a few minutes
+lain motionless, growing cold before them. Natasha went up, looked at
+the dead eyes, and hastened to close them. She closed them but did not
+kiss them, but clung to that which reminded her most nearly of him--his
+body.
+
+"Where has he gone? Where is he now?..."
+
+When the body, washed and dressed, lay in the coffin on a table,
+everyone came to take leave of him and they all wept.
+
+Little Nicholas cried because his heart was rent by painful perplexity.
+The countess and Sonya cried from pity for Natasha and because he was no
+more. The old count cried because he felt that before long, he, too,
+must take the same terrible step.
+
+Natasha and Princess Mary also wept now, but not because of their own
+personal grief; they wept with a reverent and softening emotion which
+had taken possession of their souls at the consciousness of the simple
+and solemn mystery of death that had been accomplished in their
+presence.
+
+BOOK THIRTEEN: 1812
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+Man's mind cannot grasp the causes of events in their completeness, but
+the desire to find those causes is implanted in man's soul. And without
+considering the multiplicity and complexity of the conditions any one of
+which taken separately may seem to be the cause, he snatches at the
+first approximation to a cause that seems to him intelligible and says:
+"This is the cause!" In historical events (where the actions of men are
+the subject of observation) the first and most primitive approximation
+to present itself was the will of the gods and, after that, the will of
+those who stood in the most prominent position--the heroes of history.
+But we need only penetrate to the essence of any historic event--which
+lies in the activity of the general mass of men who take part in it--to
+be convinced that the will of the historic hero does not control the
+actions of the mass but is itself continually controlled. It may seem to
+be a matter of indifference whether we understand the meaning of
+historical events this way or that; yet there is the same difference
+between a man who says that the people of the West moved on the East
+because Napoleon wished it and a man who says that this happened because
+it had to happen, as there is between those who declared that the earth
+was stationary and that the planets moved round it and those who
+admitted that they did not know what upheld the earth, but knew there
+were laws directing its movement and that of the other planets. There
+is, and can be, no cause of an historical event except the one cause of
+all causes. But there are laws directing events, and some of these laws
+are known to us while we are conscious of others we cannot comprehend.
+The discovery of these laws is only possible when we have quite
+abandoned the attempt to find the cause in the will of some one man,
+just as the discovery of the laws of the motion of the planets was
+possible only when men abandoned the conception of the fixity of the
+earth.
+
+The historians consider that, next to the battle of Borodino and the
+occupation of Moscow by the enemy and its destruction by fire, the most
+important episode of the war of 1812 was the movement of the Russian
+army from the Ryazana to the Kaluga road and to the Tarutino camp--the
+so-called flank march across the Krasnaya Pakhra River. They ascribe the
+glory of that achievement of genius to different men and dispute as to
+whom the honor is due. Even foreign historians, including the French,
+acknowledge the genius of the Russian commanders when they speak of that
+flank march. But it is hard to understand why military writers, and
+following them others, consider this flank march to be the profound
+conception of some one man who saved Russia and destroyed Napoleon. In
+the first place it is hard to understand where the profundity and genius
+of this movement lay, for not much mental effort was needed to see that
+the best position for an army when it is not being attacked is where
+there are most provisions; and even a dull boy of thirteen could have
+guessed that the best position for an army after its retreat from Moscow
+in 1812 was on the Kaluga road. So it is impossible to understand by
+what reasoning the historians reach the conclusion that this maneuver
+was a profound one. And it is even more difficult to understand just why
+they think that this maneuver was calculated to save Russia and destroy
+the French; for this flank march, had it been preceded, accompanied, or
+followed by other circumstances, might have proved ruinous to the
+Russians and salutary for the French. If the position of the Russian
+army really began to improve from the time of that march, it does not at
+all follow that the march was the cause of it.
+
+That flank march might not only have failed to give any advantage to the
+Russian army, but might in other circumstances have led to its
+destruction. What would have happened had Moscow not burned down? If
+Murat had not lost sight of the Russians? If Napoleon had not remained
+inactive? If the Russian army at Krasnaya Pakhra had given battle as
+Bennigsen and Barclay advised? What would have happened had the French
+attacked the Russians while they were marching beyond the Pakhra? What
+would have happened if on approaching Tarutino, Napoleon had attacked
+the Russians with but a tenth of the energy he had shown when he
+attacked them at Smolensk? What would have happened had the French moved
+on Petersburg?... In any of these eventualities the flank march that
+brought salvation might have proved disastrous.
+
+The third and most incomprehensible thing is that people studying
+history deliberately avoid seeing that this flank march cannot be
+attributed to any one man, that no one ever foresaw it, and that in
+reality, like the retreat from Fili, it did not suggest itself to anyone
+in its entirety, but resulted--moment by moment, step by step, event by
+event--from an endless number of most diverse circumstances and was only
+seen in its entirety when it had been accomplished and belonged to the
+past.
+
+At the council at Fili the prevailing thought in the minds of the
+Russian commanders was the one naturally suggesting itself, namely, a
+direct retreat by the Nizhni road. In proof of this there is the fact
+that the majority of the council voted for such a retreat, and above all
+there is the well-known conversation after the council, between the
+commander in chief and Lanskoy, who was in charge of the commissariat
+department. Lanskoy informed the commander-in-chief that the army
+supplies were for the most part stored along the Oka in the Tula and
+Ryazan provinces, and that if they retreated on Nizhni the army would be
+separated from its supplies by the broad river Oka, which cannot be
+crossed early in winter. This was the first indication of the necessity
+of deviating from what had previously seemed the most natural course--a
+direct retreat on Nizhni-Novgorod. The army turned more to the south,
+along the Ryazan road and nearer to its supplies. Subsequently the
+inactivity of the French (who even lost sight of the Russian army),
+concern for the safety of the arsenal at Tula, and especially the
+advantages of drawing nearer to its supplies caused the army to turn
+still further south to the Tula road. Having crossed over, by a forced
+march, to the Tula road beyond the Pakhra, the Russian commanders
+intended to remain at Podolsk and had no thought of the Tarutino
+position; but innumerable circumstances and the reappearance of French
+troops who had for a time lost touch with the Russians, and projects of
+giving battle, and above all the abundance of provisions in Kaluga
+province, obliged our army to turn still more to the south and to cross
+from the Tula to the Kaluga road and go to Tarutino, which was between
+the roads along which those supplies lay. Just as it is impossible to
+say when it was decided to abandon Moscow, so it is impossible to say
+precisely when, or by whom, it was decided to move to Tarutino. Only
+when the army had got there, as the result of innumerable and varying
+forces, did people begin to assure themselves that they had desired this
+movement and long ago foreseen its result.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+The famous flank movement merely consisted in this: after the advance of
+the French had ceased, the Russian army, which had been continually
+retreating straight back from the invaders, deviated from that direct
+course and, not finding itself pursued, was naturally drawn toward the
+district where supplies were abundant.
+
+If instead of imagining to ourselves commanders of genius leading the
+Russian army, we picture that army without any leaders, it could not
+have done anything but make a return movement toward Moscow, describing
+an arc in the direction where most provisions were to be found and where
+the country was richest.
+
+That movement from the Nizhni to the Ryazan, Tula, and Kaluga roads was
+so natural that even the Russian marauders moved in that direction, and
+demands were sent from Petersburg for Kutuzov to take his army that way.
+At Tarutino Kutuzov received what was almost a reprimand from the
+Emperor for having moved his army along the Ryazan road, and the
+Emperor's letter indicated to him the very position he had already
+occupied near Kaluga.
+
+Having rolled like a ball in the direction of the impetus given by the
+whole campaign and by the battle of Borodino, the Russian army--when the
+strength of that impetus was exhausted and no fresh push was received--
+assumed the position natural to it.
+
+Kutuzov's merit lay, not in any strategic maneuver of genius, as it is
+called, but in the fact that he alone understood the significance of
+what had happened. He alone then understood the meaning of the French
+army's inactivity, he alone continued to assert that the battle of
+Borodino had been a victory, he alone--who as commander-in-chief might
+have been expected to be eager to attack--employed his whole strength to
+restrain the Russian army from useless engagements.
+
+The beast wounded at Borodino was lying where the fleeing hunter had
+left him; but whether he was still alive, whether he was strong and
+merely lying low, the hunter did not know. Suddenly the beast was heard
+to moan.
+
+The moan of that wounded beast (the French army) which betrayed its
+calamitous condition was the sending of Lauriston to Kutuzov's camp with
+overtures for peace.
+
+Napoleon, with his usual assurance that whatever entered his head was
+right, wrote to Kutuzov the first words that occurred to him, though
+they were meaningless.
+
+MONSIEUR LE PRINCE KOUTOUZOV: I am sending one of my adjutants-general
+to discuss several interesting questions with you. I beg your Highness
+to credit what he says to you, especially when he expresses the
+sentiment of esteem and special regard I have long entertained for your
+person. This letter having no other object, I pray God, monsieur le
+Prince Koutouzov, to keep you in His holy and gracious protection!
+
+NAPOLEON MOSCOW, OCTOBER 30, 1812
+
+Kutuzov replied: "I should be cursed by posterity were I looked on as
+the initiator of a settlement of any sort. Such is the present spirit of
+my nation." But he continued to exert all his powers to restrain his
+troops from attacking.
+
+During the month that the French troops were pillaging in Moscow and the
+Russian troops were quietly encamped at Tarutino, a change had taken
+place in the relative strength of the two armies--both in spirit and in
+number--as a result of which the superiority had passed to the Russian
+side. Though the condition and numbers of the French army were unknown
+to the Russians, as soon as that change occurred the need of attacking
+at once showed itself by countless signs. These signs were: Lauriston's
+mission; the abundance of provisions at Tarutino; the reports coming in
+from all sides of the inactivity and disorder of the French; the flow of
+recruits to our regiments; the fine weather; the long rest the Russian
+soldiers had enjoyed, and the impatience to do what they had been
+assembled for, which usually shows itself in an army that has been
+resting; curiosity as to what the French army, so long lost sight of,
+was doing; the boldness with which our outposts now scouted close up to
+the French stationed at Tarutino; the news of easy successes gained by
+peasants and guerrilla troops over the French, the envy aroused by this;
+the desire for revenge that lay in the heart of every Russian as long as
+the French were in Moscow, and (above all) a dim consciousness in every
+soldier's mind that the relative strength of the armies had changed and
+that the advantage was now on our side. There was a substantial change
+in the relative strength, and an advance had become inevitable. And at
+once, as a clock begins to strike and chime as soon as the minute hand
+has completed a full circle, this change was shown by an increased
+activity, whirring, and chiming in the higher spheres.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+The Russian army was commanded by Kutuzov and his staff, and also by the
+Emperor from Petersburg. Before the news of the abandonment of Moscow
+had been received in Petersburg, a detailed plan of the whole campaign
+had been drawn up and sent to Kutuzov for his guidance. Though this plan
+had been drawn up on the supposition that Moscow was still in our hands,
+it was approved by the staff and accepted as a basis for action. Kutuzov
+only replied that movements arranged from a distance were always
+difficult to execute. So fresh instructions were sent for the solution
+of difficulties that might be encountered, as well as fresh people who
+were to watch Kutuzov's actions and report upon them.
+
+Besides this, the whole staff of the Russian army was now reorganized.
+The posts left vacant by Bagration, who had been killed, and by Barclay,
+who had gone away in dudgeon, had to be filled. Very serious
+consideration was given to the question whether it would be better to
+put A in B's place and B in D's, or on the contrary to put D in A's
+place, and so on--as if anything more than A's or B's satisfaction
+depended on this.
+
+As a result of the hostility between Kutuzov and Bennigsen, his Chief of
+Staff, the presence of confidential representatives of the Emperor, and
+these transfers, a more than usually complicated play of parties was
+going on among the staff of the army. A was undermining B, D was
+undermining C, and so on in all possible combinations and permutations.
+In all these plottings the subject of intrigue was generally the conduct
+of the war, which all these men believed they were directing; but this
+affair of the war went on independently of them, as it had to go: that
+is, never in the way people devised, but flowing always from the
+essential attitude of the masses. Only in the highest spheres did all
+these schemes, crossings, and interminglings appear to be a true
+reflection of what had to happen.
+
+Prince Michael Ilarionovich! (wrote the Emperor on the second of October
+in a letter that reached Kutuzov after the battle at Tarutino) Since
+September 2 Moscow has been in the hands of the enemy. Your last reports
+were written on the twentieth, and during all this time not only has no
+action been taken against the enemy or for the relief of the ancient
+capital, but according to your last report you have even retreated
+farther. Serpukhov is already occupied by an enemy detachment and Tula
+with its famous arsenal so indispensable to the army, is in danger. From
+General Wintzingerode's reports, I see that an enemy corps of ten
+thousand men is moving on the Petersburg road. Another corps of several
+thousand men is moving on Dmitrov. A third has advanced along the
+Vladimir road, and a fourth, rather considerable detachment is stationed
+between Ruza and Mozhaysk. Napoleon himself was in Moscow as late as the
+twenty-fifth. In view of all this information, when the enemy has
+scattered his forces in large detachments, and with Napoleon and his
+Guards in Moscow, is it possible that the enemy's forces confronting you
+are so considerable as not to allow of your taking the offensive? On the
+contrary, he is probably pursuing you with detachments, or at most with
+an army corps much weaker than the army entrusted to you. It would seem
+that, availing yourself of these circumstances, you might advantageously
+attack a weaker one and annihilate him, or at least oblige him to
+retreat, retaining in our hands an important part of the provinces now
+occupied by the enemy, and thereby averting danger from Tula and other
+towns in the interior. You will be responsible if the enemy is able to
+direct a force of any size against Petersburg to threaten this capital
+in which it has not been possible to retain many troops; for with the
+army entrusted to you, and acting with resolution and energy, you have
+ample means to avert this fresh calamity. Remember that you have still
+to answer to our offended country for the loss of Moscow. You have
+experienced my readiness to reward you. That readiness will not weaken
+in me, but I and Russia have a right to expect from you all the zeal,
+firmness, and success which your intellect, military talent, and the
+courage of the troops you command justify us in expecting.
+
+But by the time this letter, which proved that the real relation of the
+forces had already made itself felt in Petersburg, was dispatched,
+Kutuzov had found himself unable any longer to restrain the army he
+commanded from attacking and a battle had taken place.
+
+On the second of October a Cossack, Shapovalov, who was out scouting,
+killed one hare and wounded another. Following the wounded hare he made
+his way far into the forest and came upon the left flank of Murat's
+army, encamped there without any precautions. The Cossack laughingly
+told his comrades how he had almost fallen into the hands of the French.
+A cornet, hearing the story, informed his commander.
+
+The Cossack was sent for and questioned. The Cossack officers wished to
+take advantage of this chance to capture some horses, but one of the
+superior officers, who was acquainted with the higher authorities,
+reported the incident to a general on the staff. The state of things on
+the staff had of late been exceedingly strained. Ermolov had been to see
+Bennigsen a few days previously and had entreated him to use his
+influence with the commander-in-chief to induce him to take the
+offensive.
+
+"If I did not know you I should think you did not want what you are
+asking for. I need only advise anything and his Highness is sure to do
+the opposite," replied Bennigsen.
+
+The Cossack's report, confirmed by horse patrols who were sent out, was
+the final proof that events had matured. The tightly coiled spring was
+released, the clock began to whirr and the chimes to play. Despite all
+his supposed power, his intellect, his experience, and his knowledge of
+men, Kutuzov--having taken into consideration the Cossack's report, a
+note from Bennigsen who sent personal reports to the Emperor, the wishes
+he supposed the Emperor to hold, and the fact that all the generals
+expressed the same wish--could no longer check the inevitable movement,
+and gave the order to do what he regarded as useless and harmful--gave
+his approval, that is, to the accomplished fact.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+Bennigsen's note and the Cossack's information that the left flank of
+the French was unguarded were merely final indications that it was
+necessary to order an attack, and it was fixed for the fifth of October.
+
+On the morning of the fourth of October Kutuzov signed the dispositions.
+Toll read them to Ermolov, asking him to attend to the further
+arrangements.
+
+"All right--all right. I haven't time just now," replied Ermolov, and
+left the hut.
+
+The dispositions drawn up by Toll were very good. As in the Austerlitz
+dispositions, it was written--though not in German this time:
+
+"The First Column will march here and here," "the Second Column will
+march there and there," and so on; and on paper, all these columns
+arrived at their places at the appointed time and destroyed the enemy.
+Everything had been admirably thought out as is usual in dispositions,
+and as is always the case, not a single column reached its place at the
+appointed time.
+
+When the necessary number of copies of the dispositions had been
+prepared, an officer was summoned and sent to deliver them to Ermolov to
+deal with. A young officer of the Horse Guards, Kutuzov's orderly,
+pleased at the importance of the mission entrusted to him, went to
+Ermolov's quarters.
+
+"Gone away," said Ermolov's orderly.
+
+The officer of the Horse Guards went to a general with whom Ermolov was
+often to be found.
+
+"No, and the general's out too."
+
+The officer, mounting his horse, rode off to someone else.
+
+"No, he's gone out."
+
+"If only they don't make me responsible for this delay! What a nuisance
+it is!" thought the officer, and he rode round the whole camp. One man
+said he had seen Ermolov ride past with some other generals, others said
+he must have returned home. The officer searched till six o'clock in the
+evening without even stopping to eat. Ermolov was nowhere to be found
+and no one knew where he was. The officer snatched a little food at a
+comrade's, and rode again to the vanguard to find Miloradovich.
+Miloradovich too was away, but here he was told that he had gone to a
+ball at General Kikin's and that Ermolov was probably there too.
+
+"But where is it?"
+
+"Why, there, over at Echkino," said a Cossack officer, pointing to a
+country house in the far distance.
+
+"What, outside our line?"
+
+"They've put two regiments as outposts, and they're having such a spree
+there, it's awful! Two bands and three sets of singers!"
+
+The officer rode out beyond our lines to Echkino. While still at a
+distance he heard as he rode the merry sounds of a soldier's dance song
+proceeding from the house.
+
+"In the meadows... in the meadows!" he heard, accompanied by whistling
+and the sound of a torban, drowned every now and then by shouts. These
+sounds made his spirits rise, but at the same time he was afraid that he
+would be blamed for not having executed sooner the important order
+entrusted to him. It was already past eight o'clock. He dismounted and
+went up into the porch of a large country house which had remained
+intact between the Russian and French forces. In the refreshment room
+and the hall, footmen were bustling about with wine and viands. Groups
+of singers stood outside the windows. The officer was admitted and
+immediately saw all the chief generals of the army together, and among
+them Ermolov's big imposing figure. They all had their coats unbuttoned
+and were standing in a semicircle with flushed and animated faces,
+laughing loudly. In the middle of the room a short handsome general with
+a red face was dancing the trepak with much spirit and agility.
+
+"Ha, ha, ha! Bravo, Nicholas Ivanych! Ha, ha, ha!"
+
+The officer felt that by arriving with important orders at such a moment
+he was doubly to blame, and he would have preferred to wait; but one of
+the generals espied him and, hearing what he had come about, informed
+Ermolov.
+
+Ermolov came forward with a frown on his face and, hearing what the
+officer had to say, took the papers from him without a word.
+
+"You think he went off just by chance?" said a comrade, who was on the
+staff that evening, to the officer of the Horse Guards, referring to
+Ermolov. "It was a trick. It was done on purpose to get Konovnitsyn into
+trouble. You'll see what a mess there'll be tomorrow."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+Next day the decrepit Kutuzov, having given orders to be called early,
+said his prayers, dressed, and, with an unpleasant consciousness of
+having to direct a battle he did not approve of, got into his caleche
+and drove from Letashovka (a village three and a half miles from
+Tarutino) to the place where the attacking columns were to meet. He sat
+in the caleche, dozing and waking up by turns, and listening for any
+sound of firing on the right as an indication that the action had begun.
+But all was still quiet. A damp dull autumn morning was just dawning. On
+approaching Tarutino Kutuzov noticed cavalrymen leading their horses to
+water across the road along which he was driving. Kutuzov looked at them
+searchingly, stopped his carriage, and inquired what regiment they
+belonged to. They belonged to a column that should have been far in
+front and in ambush long before then. "It may be a mistake," thought the
+old commander-in-chief. But a little further on he saw infantry
+regiments with their arms piled and the soldiers, only partly dressed,
+eating their rye porridge and carrying fuel. He sent for an officer. The
+officer reported that no order to advance had been received.
+
+"How! Not rec..." Kutuzov began, but checked himself immediately and
+sent for a senior officer. Getting out of his caleche, he waited with
+drooping head and breathing heavily, pacing silently up and down. When
+Eykhen, the officer of the general staff whom he had summoned, appeared,
+Kutuzov went purple in the face, not because that officer was to blame
+for the mistake, but because he was an object of sufficient importance
+for him to vent his wrath on. Trembling and panting the old man fell
+into that state of fury in which he sometimes used to roll on the
+ground, and he fell upon Eykhen, threatening him with his hands,
+shouting and loading him with gross abuse. Another man, Captain Brozin,
+who happened to turn up and who was not at all to blame, suffered the
+same fate.
+
+"What sort of another blackguard are you? I'll have you shot!
+Scoundrels!" yelled Kutuzov in a hoarse voice, waving his arms and
+reeling.
+
+He was suffering physically. He, the commander-in-chief, a Serene
+Highness who everybody said possessed powers such as no man had ever had
+in Russia, to be placed in this position--made the laughingstock of the
+whole army! "I needn't have been in such a hurry to pray about today, or
+have kept awake thinking everything over all night," thought he to
+himself. "When I was a chit of an officer no one would have dared to
+mock me so... and now!" He was in a state of physical suffering as if
+from corporal punishment, and could not avoid expressing it by cries of
+anger and distress. But his strength soon began to fail him, and looking
+about him, conscious of having said much that was amiss, he again got
+into his caleche and drove back in silence.
+
+His wrath, once expended, did not return, and blinking feebly he
+listened to excuses and self-justifications (Ermolov did not come to see
+him till the next day) and to the insistence of Bennigsen, Konovnitsyn,
+and Toll that the movement that had miscarried should be executed next
+day. And once more Kutuzov had to consent.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+Next day the troops assembled in their appointed places in the evening
+and advanced during the night. It was an autumn night with dark purple
+clouds, but no rain. The ground was damp but not muddy, and the troops
+advanced noiselessly, only occasionally a jingling of the artillery
+could be faintly heard. The men were forbidden to talk out loud, to
+smoke their pipes, or to strike a light, and they tried to prevent their
+horses neighing. The secrecy of the undertaking heightened its charm and
+they marched gaily. Some columns, supposing they had reached their
+destination, halted, piled arms, and settled down on the cold ground,
+but the majority marched all night and arrived at places where they
+evidently should not have been.
+
+Only Count Orlov-Denisov with his Cossacks (the least important
+detachment of all) got to his appointed place at the right time. This
+detachment halted at the outskirts of a forest, on the path leading from
+the village of Stromilova to Dmitrovsk.
+
+Toward dawn, Count Orlov-Denisov, who had dozed off, was awakened by a
+deserter from the French army being brought to him. This was a Polish
+sergeant of Poniatowski's corps, who explained in Polish that he had
+come over because he had been slighted in the service: that he ought
+long ago to have been made an officer, that he was braver than any of
+them, and so he had left them and wished to pay them out. He said that
+Murat was spending the night less than a mile from where they were, and
+that if they would let him have a convoy of a hundred men he would
+capture him alive. Count Orlov-Denisov consulted his fellow officers.
+
+The offer was too tempting to be refused. Everyone volunteered to go and
+everybody advised making the attempt. After much disputing and arguing,
+Major-General Grekov with two Cossack regiments decided to go with the
+Polish sergeant.
+
+"Now, remember," said Count Orlov-Denisov to the sergeant at parting,
+"if you have been lying I'll have you hanged like a dog; but if it's
+true you shall have a hundred gold pieces!"
+
+Without replying, the sergeant, with a resolute air, mounted and rode
+away with Grekov whose men had quickly assembled. They disappeared into
+the forest, and Count Orlov-Denisov, having seen Grekov off, returned,
+shivering from the freshness of the early dawn and excited by what he
+had undertaken on his own responsibility, and began looking at the enemy
+camp, now just visible in the deceptive light of dawn and the dying
+campfires. Our columns ought to have begun to appear on an open
+declivity to his right. He looked in that direction, but though the
+columns would have been visible quite far off, they were not to be seen.
+It seemed to the count that things were beginning to stir in the French
+camp, and his keen-sighted adjutant confirmed this.
+
+"Oh, it is really too late," said Count Orlov, looking at the camp.
+
+As often happens when someone we have trusted is no longer before our
+eyes, it suddenly seemed quite clear and obvious to him that the
+sergeant was an impostor, that he had lied, and that the whole Russian
+attack would be ruined by the absence of those two regiments, which he
+would lead away heaven only knew where. How could one capture a
+commander-in-chief from among such a mass of troops!
+
+"I am sure that rascal was lying," said the count.
+
+"They can still be called back," said one of his suite, who like Count
+Orlov felt distrustful of the adventure when he looked at the enemy's
+camp.
+
+"Eh? Really... what do you think? Should we let them go on or not?"
+
+"Will you have them fetched back?"
+
+"Fetch them back, fetch them back!" said Count Orlov with sudden
+determination, looking at his watch. "It will be too late. It is quite
+light."
+
+And the adjutant galloped through the forest after Grekov. When Grekov
+returned, Count Orlov-Denisov, excited both by the abandoned attempt and
+by vainly awaiting the infantry columns that still did not appear, as
+well as by the proximity of the enemy, resolved to advance. All his men
+felt the same excitement.
+
+"Mount!" he commanded in a whisper. The men took their places and
+crossed themselves.... "Forward, with God's aid!"
+
+"Hurrah-ah-ah!" reverberated in the forest, and the Cossack companies,
+trailing their lances and advancing one after another as if poured out
+of a sack, dashed gaily across the brook toward the camp.
+
+One desperate, frightened yell from the first French soldier who saw the
+Cossacks, and all who were in the camp, undressed and only just waking
+up, ran off in all directions, abandoning cannons, muskets, and horses.
+
+Had the Cossacks pursued the French, without heeding what was behind and
+around them, they would have captured Murat and everything there. That
+was what the officers desired. But it was impossible to make the
+Cossacks budge when once they had got booty and prisoners. None of them
+listened to orders. Fifteen hundred prisoners and thirty-eight guns were
+taken on the spot, besides standards and (what seemed most important to
+the Cossacks) horses, saddles, horsecloths, and the like. All this had
+to be dealt with, the prisoners and guns secured, the booty divided--not
+without some shouting and even a little fighting among themselves--and
+it was on this that the Cossacks all busied themselves.
+
+The French, not being farther pursued, began to recover themselves: they
+formed into detachments and began firing. Orlov-Denisov, still waiting
+for the other columns to arrive, advanced no further.
+
+Meantime, according to the dispositions which said that "the First
+Column will march" and so on, the infantry of the belated columns,
+commanded by Bennigsen and directed by Toll, had started in due order
+and, as always happens, had got somewhere, but not to their appointed
+places. As always happens the men, starting cheerfully, began to halt;
+murmurs were heard, there was a sense of confusion, and finally a
+backward movement. Adjutants and generals galloped about, shouted, grew
+angry, quarreled, said they had come quite wrong and were late, gave
+vent to a little abuse, and at last gave it all up and went forward,
+simply to get somewhere. "We shall get somewhere or other!" And they did
+indeed get somewhere, though not to their right places; a few eventually
+even got to their right place, but too late to be of any use and only in
+time to be fired at. Toll, who in this battle played the part of
+Weyrother at Austerlitz, galloped assiduously from place to place,
+finding everything upside down everywhere. Thus he stumbled on Bagovut's
+corps in a wood when it was already broad daylight, though the corps
+should long before have joined Orlov-Denisov. Excited and vexed by the
+failure and supposing that someone must be responsible for it, Toll
+galloped up to the commander of the corps and began upbraiding him
+severely, saying that he ought to be shot. General Bagovut, a fighting
+old soldier of placid temperament, being also upset by all the delay,
+confusion, and cross-purposes, fell into a rage to everybody's surprise
+and quite contrary to his usual character and said disagreeable things
+to Toll.
+
+"I prefer not to take lessons from anyone, but I can die with my men as
+well as anybody," he said, and advanced with a single division.
+
+Coming out onto a field under the enemy's fire, this brave general went
+straight ahead, leading his men under fire, without considering in his
+agitation whether going into action now, with a single division, would
+be of any use or no. Danger, cannon balls, and bullets were just what he
+needed in his angry mood. One of the first bullets killed him, and other
+bullets killed many of his men. And his division remained under fire for
+some time quite uselessly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+Meanwhile another column was to have attacked the French from the front,
+but Kutuzov accompanied that column. He well knew that nothing but
+confusion would come of this battle undertaken against his will, and as
+far as was in his power held the troops back. He did not advance.
+
+He rode silently on his small gray horse, indolently answering
+suggestions that they should attack.
+
+"The word attack is always on your tongue, but you don't see that we are
+unable to execute complicated maneuvers," said he to Miloradovich who
+asked permission to advance.
+
+"We couldn't take Murat prisoner this morning or get to the place in
+time, and nothing can be done now!" he replied to someone else.
+
+When Kutuzov was informed that at the French rear--where according to
+the reports of the Cossacks there had previously been nobody--there were
+now two battalions of Poles, he gave a sidelong glance at Ermolov who
+was behind him and to whom he had not spoken since the previous day.
+
+"You see! They are asking to attack and making plans of all kinds, but
+as soon as one gets to business nothing is ready, and the enemy,
+forewarned, takes measures accordingly."
+
+Ermolov screwed up his eyes and smiled faintly on hearing these words.
+He understood that for him the storm had blown over, and that Kutuzov
+would content himself with that hint.
+
+"He's having a little fun at my expense," said Ermolov softly, nudging
+with his knee Raevski who was at his side.
+
+Soon after this, Ermolov moved up to Kutuzov and respectfully remarked:
+
+"It is not too late yet, your Highness--the enemy has not gone away--if
+you were to order an attack! If not, the Guards will not so much as see
+a little smoke."
+
+Kutuzov did not reply, but when they reported to him that Murat's troops
+were in retreat he ordered an advance, though at every hundred paces he
+halted for three quarters of an hour.
+
+The whole battle consisted in what Orlov-Denisov's Cossacks had done:
+the rest of the army merely lost some hundreds of men uselessly.
+
+In consequence of this battle Kutuzov received a diamond decoration, and
+Bennigsen some diamonds and a hundred thousand rubles, others also
+received pleasant recognitions corresponding to their various grades,
+and following the battle fresh changes were made in the staff.
+
+"That's how everything is done with us, all topsy-turvy!" said the
+Russian officers and generals after the Tarutino battle, letting it be
+understood that some fool there is doing things all wrong but that we
+ourselves should not have done so, just as people speak today. But
+people who talk like that either do not know what they are talking about
+or deliberately deceive themselves. No battle--Tarutino, Borodino, or
+Austerlitz--takes place as those who planned it anticipated. That is an
+essential condition.
+
+A countless number of free forces (for nowhere is man freer than during
+a battle, where it is a question of life and death) influence the course
+taken by the fight, and that course never can be known in advance and
+never coincides with the direction of any one force.
+
+If many simultaneously and variously directed forces act on a given
+body, the direction of its motion cannot coincide with any one of those
+forces, but will always be a mean--what in mechanics is represented by
+the diagonal of a parallelogram of forces.
+
+If in the descriptions given by historians, especially French ones, we
+find their wars and battles carried out in accordance with previously
+formed plans, the only conclusion to be drawn is that those descriptions
+are false.
+
+The battle of Tarutino obviously did not attain the aim Toll had in
+view--to lead the troops into action in the order prescribed by the
+dispositions; nor that which Count Orlov-Denisov may have had in view--
+to take Murat prisoner; nor the result of immediately destroying the
+whole corps, which Bennigsen and others may have had in view; nor the
+aim of the officer who wished to go into action to distinguish himself;
+nor that of the Cossack who wanted more booty than he got, and so on.
+But if the aim of the battle was what actually resulted and what all the
+Russians of that day desired--to drive the French out of Russia and
+destroy their army--it is quite clear that the battle of Tarutino, just
+because of its incongruities, was exactly what was wanted at that stage
+of the campaign. It would be difficult and even impossible to imagine
+any result more opportune than the actual outcome of this battle. With a
+minimum of effort and insignificant losses, despite the greatest
+confusion, the most important results of the whole campaign were
+attained: the transition from retreat to advance, an exposure of the
+weakness of the French, and the administration of that shock which
+Napoleon's army had only awaited to begin its flight.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+Napoleon enters Moscow after the brilliant victory de la Moskowa; there
+can be no doubt about the victory for the battlefield remains in the
+hands of the French. The Russians retreat and abandon their ancient
+capital. Moscow, abounding in provisions, arms, munitions, and
+incalculable wealth, is in Napoleon's hands. The Russian army, only half
+the strength of the French, does not make a single attempt to attack for
+a whole month. Napoleon's position is most brilliant. He can either fall
+on the Russian army with double its strength and destroy it; negotiate
+an advantageous peace, or in case of a refusal make a menacing move on
+Petersburg, or even, in the case of a reverse, return to Smolensk or
+Vilna; or remain in Moscow; in short, no special genius would seem to be
+required to retain the brilliant position the French held at that time.
+For that, only very simple and easy steps were necessary: not to allow
+the troops to loot, to prepare winter clothing--of which there was
+sufficient in Moscow for the whole army--and methodically to collect the
+provisions, of which (according to the French historians) there were
+enough in Moscow to supply the whole army for six months. Yet Napoleon,
+that greatest of all geniuses, who the historians declare had control of
+the army, took none of these steps.
+
+He not merely did nothing of the kind, but on the contrary he used his
+power to select the most foolish and ruinous of all the courses open to
+him. Of all that Napoleon might have done: wintering in Moscow,
+advancing on Petersburg or on Nizhni-Novgorod, or retiring by a more
+northerly or more southerly route (say by the road Kutuzov afterwards
+took), nothing more stupid or disastrous can be imagined than what he
+actually did. He remained in Moscow till October, letting the troops
+plunder the city; then, hesitating whether to leave a garrison behind
+him, he quitted Moscow, approached Kutuzov without joining battle,
+turned to the right and reached Malo-Yaroslavets, again without
+attempting to break through and take the road Kutuzov took, but retiring
+instead to Mozhaysk along the devastated Smolensk road. Nothing more
+stupid than that could have been devised, or more disastrous for the
+army, as the sequel showed. Had Napoleon's aim been to destroy his army,
+the most skillful strategist could hardly have devised any series of
+actions that would so completely have accomplished that purpose,
+independently of anything the Russian army might do.
+
+Napoleon, the man of genius, did this! But to say that he destroyed his
+army because he wished to, or because he was very stupid, would be as
+unjust as to say that he had brought his troops to Moscow because he
+wished to and because he was very clever and a genius.
+
+In both cases his personal activity, having no more force than the
+personal activity of any soldier, merely coincided with the laws that
+guided the event.
+
+The historians quite falsely represent Napoleon's faculties as having
+weakened in Moscow, and do so only because the results did not justify
+his actions. He employed all his ability and strength to do the best he
+could for himself and his army, as he had done previously and as he did
+subsequently in 1813. His activity at that time was no less astounding
+than it was in Egypt, in Italy, in Austria, and in Prussia. We do not
+know for certain in how far his genius was genuine in Egypt--where forty
+centuries looked down upon his grandeur--for his great exploits there
+are all told us by Frenchmen. We cannot accurately estimate his genius
+in Austria or Prussia, for we have to draw our information from French
+or German sources, and the incomprehensible surrender of whole corps
+without fighting and of fortresses without a siege must incline Germans
+to recognize his genius as the only explanation of the war carried on in
+Germany. But we, thank God, have no need to recognize his genius in
+order to hide our shame. We have paid for the right to look at the
+matter plainly and simply, and we will not abandon that right.
+
+His activity in Moscow was as amazing and as full of genius as
+elsewhere. Order after order and plan after plan were issued by him from
+the time he entered Moscow till the time he left it. The absence of
+citizens and of a deputation, and even the burning of Moscow, did not
+disconcert him. He did not lose sight either of the welfare of his army
+or of the doings of the enemy, or of the welfare of the people of
+Russia, or of the direction of affairs in Paris, or of diplomatic
+considerations concerning the terms of the anticipated peace.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+With regard to military matters, Napoleon immediately on his entry into
+Moscow gave General Sabastiani strict orders to observe the movements of
+the Russian army, sent army corps out along the different roads, and
+charged Murat to find Kutuzov. Then he gave careful directions about the
+fortification of the Kremlin, and drew up a brilliant plan for a future
+campaign over the whole map of Russia.
+
+With regard to diplomatic questions, Napoleon summoned Captain Yakovlev,
+who had been robbed and was in rags and did not know how to get out of
+Moscow, minutely explained to him his whole policy and his magnanimity,
+and having written a letter to the Emperor Alexander in which he
+considered it his duty to inform his Friend and Brother that Rostopchin
+had managed affairs badly in Moscow, he dispatched Yakovlev to
+Petersburg.
+
+Having similarly explained his views and his magnanimity to Tutolmin, he
+dispatched that old man also to Petersburg to negotiate.
+
+With regard to legal matters, immediately after the fires he gave orders
+to find and execute the incendiaries. And the scoundrel Rostopchin was
+punished by an order to burn down his houses.
+
+With regard to administrative matters, Moscow was granted a
+constitution. A municipality was established and the following
+announcement issued:
+
+INHABITANTS OF MOSCOW!
+
+Your misfortunes are cruel, but His Majesty the Emperor and King desires
+to arrest their course. Terrible examples have taught you how he
+punishes disobedience and crime. Strict measures have been taken to put
+an end to disorder and to re-establish public security. A paternal
+administration, chosen from among yourselves, will form your
+municipality or city government. It will take care of you, of your
+needs, and of your welfare. Its members will be distinguished by a red
+ribbon worn across the shoulder, and the mayor of the city will wear a
+white belt as well. But when not on duty they will only wear a red
+ribbon round the left arm.
+
+The city police is established on its former footing, and better order
+already prevails in consequence of its activity. The government has
+appointed two commissaries general, or chiefs of police, and twenty
+commissaries or captains of wards have been appointed to the different
+wards of the city. You will recognize them by the white ribbon they will
+wear on the left arm. Several churches of different denominations are
+open, and divine service is performed in them unhindered. Your fellow
+citizens are returning every day to their homes and orders have been
+given that they should find in them the help and protection due to their
+misfortunes. These are the measures the government has adopted to re-
+establish order and relieve your condition. But to achieve this aim it
+is necessary that you should add your efforts and should, if possible,
+forget the misfortunes you have suffered, should entertain the hope of a
+less cruel fate, should be certain that inevitable and ignominious death
+awaits those who make any attempt on your persons or on what remains of
+your property, and finally that you should not doubt that these will be
+safeguarded, since such is the will of the greatest and most just of
+monarchs. Soldiers and citizens, of whatever nation you may be, re-
+establish public confidence, the source of the welfare of a state, live
+like brothers, render mutual aid and protection one to another, unite to
+defeat the intentions of the evil-minded, obey the military and civil
+authorities, and your tears will soon cease to flow!
+
+With regard to supplies for the army, Napoleon decreed that all the
+troops in turn should enter Moscow a la maraude * to obtain provisions
+for themselves, so that the army might have its future provided for.
+
+
+* As looters.
+
+With regard to religion, Napoleon ordered the priests to be brought back
+and services to be again performed in the churches.
+
+With regard to commerce and to provisioning the army, the following was
+placarded everywhere:
+
+PROCLAMATION!
+
+You, peaceful inhabitants of Moscow, artisans and workmen whom
+misfortune has driven from the city, and you scattered tillers of the
+soil, still kept out in the fields by groundless fear, listen!
+Tranquillity is returning to this capital and order is being restored in
+it. Your fellow countrymen are emerging boldly from their hiding places
+on finding that they are respected. Any violence to them or to their
+property is promptly punished. His Majesty the Emperor and King protects
+them, and considers no one among you his enemy except those who disobey
+his orders. He desires to end your misfortunes and restore you to your
+homes and families. Respond, therefore, to his benevolent intentions and
+come to us without fear. Inhabitants, return with confidence to your
+abodes! You will soon find means of satisfying your needs. Craftsmen and
+industrious artisans, return to your work, your houses, your shops,
+where the protection of guards awaits you! You shall receive proper pay
+for your work. And lastly you too, peasants, come from the forests where
+you are hiding in terror, return to your huts without fear, in full
+assurance that you will find protection! Markets are established in the
+city where peasants can bring their surplus supplies and the products of
+the soil. The government has taken the following steps to ensure freedom
+of sale for them: (1) From today, peasants, husbandmen, and those living
+in the neighborhood of Moscow may without any danger bring their
+supplies of all kinds to two appointed markets, of which one is on the
+Mokhovaya Street and the other at the Provision Market. (2) Such
+supplies will be bought from them at such prices as seller and buyer may
+agree on, and if a seller is unable to obtain a fair price he will be
+free to take his goods back to his village and no one may hinder him
+under any pretense. (3) Sunday and Wednesday of each week are appointed
+as the chief market days and to that end a sufficient number of troops
+will be stationed along the highroads on Tuesdays and Saturdays at such
+distances from the town as to protect the carts. (4) Similar measures
+will be taken that peasants with their carts and horses may meet with no
+hindrance on their return journey. (5) Steps will immediately be taken
+to re-establish ordinary trading.
+
+Inhabitants of the city and villages, and you, workingmen and artisans,
+to whatever nation you belong, you are called on to carry out the
+paternal intentions of His Majesty the Emperor and King and to co-
+operate with him for the public welfare! Lay your respect and confidence
+at his feet and do not delay to unite with us!
+
+With the object of raising the spirits of the troops and of the people,
+reviews were constantly held and rewards distributed. The Emperor rode
+through the streets to comfort the inhabitants, and, despite his
+preoccupation with state affairs, himself visited the theaters that were
+established by his order.
+
+In regard to philanthropy, the greatest virtue of crowned heads,
+Napoleon also did all in his power. He caused the words Maison de ma
+Mere to be inscribed on the charitable institutions, thereby combining
+tender filial affection with the majestic benevolence of a monarch. He
+visited the Foundling Hospital and, allowing the orphans saved by him to
+kiss his white hands, graciously conversed with Tutolmin. Then, as
+Thiers eloquently recounts, he ordered his soldiers to be paid in forged
+Russian money which he had prepared: "Raising the use of these means by
+an act worthy of himself and of the French army, he let relief be
+distributed to those who had been burned out. But as food was too
+precious to be given to foreigners, who were for the most part enemies,
+Napoleon preferred to supply them with money with which to purchase food
+from outside, and had paper rubles distributed to them."
+
+With reference to army discipline, orders were continually being issued
+to inflict severe punishment for the nonperformance of military duties
+and to suppress robbery.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+But strange to say, all these measures, efforts, and plans--which were
+not at all worse than others issued in similar circumstances--did not
+affect the essence of the matter but, like the hands of a clock detached
+from the mechanism, swung about in an arbitrary and aimless way without
+engaging the cogwheels.
+
+With reference to the military side--the plan of campaign--that work of
+genius of which Thiers remarks that, "His genius never devised anything
+more profound, more skillful, or more admirable," and enters into a
+polemic with M. Fain to prove that this work of genius must be referred
+not to the fourth but to the fifteenth of October--that plan never was
+or could be executed, for it was quite out of touch with the facts of
+the case. The fortifying of the Kremlin, for which la Mosquee (as
+Napoleon termed the church of Basil the Beatified) was to have been
+razed to the ground, proved quite useless. The mining of the Kremlin
+only helped toward fulfilling Napoleon's wish that it should be blown up
+when he left Moscow--as a child wants the floor on which he has hurt
+himself to be beaten. The pursuit of the Russian army, about which
+Napoleon was so concerned, produced an unheard-of result. The French
+generals lost touch with the Russian army of sixty thousand men, and
+according to Thiers it was only eventually found, like a lost pin, by
+the skill--and apparently the genius--of Murat.
+
+With reference to diplomacy, all Napoleon's arguments as to his
+magnanimity and justice, both to Tutolmin and to Yakovlev (whose chief
+concern was to obtain a greatcoat and a conveyance), proved useless;
+Alexander did not receive these envoys and did not reply to their
+embassage.
+
+With regard to legal matters, after the execution of the supposed
+incendiaries the rest of Moscow burned down.
+
+With regard to administrative matters, the establishment of a
+municipality did not stop the robberies and was only of use to certain
+people who formed part of that municipality and under pretext of
+preserving order looted Moscow or saved their own property from being
+looted.
+
+With regard to religion, as to which in Egypt matters had so easily been
+settled by Napoleon's visit to a mosque, no results were achieved. Two
+or three priests who were found in Moscow did try to carry out
+Napoleon's wish, but one of them was slapped in the face by a French
+soldier while conducting service, and a French official reported of
+another that: "The priest whom I found and invited to say Mass cleaned
+and locked up the church. That night the doors were again broken open,
+the padlocks smashed, the books mutilated, and other disorders
+perpetrated."
+
+With reference to commerce, the proclamation to industrious workmen and
+to peasants evoked no response. There were no industrious workmen, and
+the peasants caught the commissaries who ventured too far out of town
+with the proclamation and killed them.
+
+As to the theaters for the entertainment of the people and the troops,
+these did not meet with success either. The theaters set up in the
+Kremlin and in Posnyakov's house were closed again at once because the
+actors and actresses were robbed.
+
+Even philanthropy did not have the desired effect. The genuine as well
+as the false paper money which flooded Moscow lost its value. The
+French, collecting booty, cared only for gold. Not only was the paper
+money valueless which Napoleon so graciously distributed to the
+unfortunate, but even silver lost its value in relation to gold.
+
+But the most amazing example of the ineffectiveness of the orders given
+by the authorities at that time was Napoleon's attempt to stop the
+looting and re-establish discipline.
+
+This is what the army authorities were reporting:
+
+"Looting continues in the city despite the decrees against it. Order is
+not yet restored and not a single merchant is carrying on trade in a
+lawful manner. The sutlers alone venture to trade, and they sell stolen
+goods."
+
+"The neighborhood of my ward continues to be pillaged by soldiers of the
+3rd Corps who, not satisfied with taking from the unfortunate
+inhabitants hiding in the cellars the little they have left, even have
+the ferocity to wound them with their sabers, as I have repeatedly
+witnessed."
+
+"Nothing new, except that the soldiers are robbing and pillaging--
+October 9."
+
+"Robbery and pillaging continue. There is a band of thieves in our
+district who ought to be arrested by a strong force--October 11."
+
+"The Emperor is extremely displeased that despite the strict orders to
+stop pillage, parties of marauding Guards are continually seen returning
+to the Kremlin. Among the Old Guard disorder and pillage were renewed
+more violently than ever yesterday evening, last night, and today. The
+Emperor sees with regret that the picked soldiers appointed to guard his
+person, who should set an example of discipline, carry disobedience to
+such a point that they break into the cellars and stores containing army
+supplies. Others have disgraced themselves to the extent of disobeying
+sentinels and officers, and have abused and beaten them."
+
+"The Grand Marshal of the palace," wrote the governor, "complains
+bitterly that in spite of repeated orders, the soldiers continue to
+commit nuisances in all the courtyards and even under the very windows
+of the Emperor."
+
+That army, like a herd of cattle run wild and trampling underfoot the
+provender which might have saved it from starvation, disintegrated and
+perished with each additional day it remained in Moscow. But it did not
+go away.
+
+It began to run away only when suddenly seized by a panic caused by the
+capture of transport trains on the Smolensk road, and by the battle of
+Tarutino. The news of that battle of Tarutino, unexpectedly received by
+Napoleon at a review, evoked in him a desire to punish the Russians
+(Thiers says), and he issued the order for departure which the whole
+army was demanding.
+
+Fleeing from Moscow the soldiers took with them everything they had
+stolen. Napoleon, too, carried away his own personal tresor, but on
+seeing the baggage trains that impeded the army, he was (Thiers says)
+horror-struck. And yet with his experience of war he did not order all
+the superfluous vehicles to be burned, as he had done with those of a
+certain marshal when approaching Moscow. He gazed at the caleches and
+carriages in which soldiers were riding and remarked that it was a very
+good thing, as those vehicles could be used to carry provisions, the
+sick, and the wounded.
+
+The plight of the whole army resembled that of a wounded animal which
+feels it is perishing and does not know what it is doing. To study the
+skillful tactics and aims of Napoleon and his army from the time it
+entered Moscow till it was destroyed is like studying the dying leaps
+and shudders of a mortally wounded animal. Very often a wounded animal,
+hearing a rustle, rushes straight at the hunter's gun, runs forward and
+back again, and hastens its own end. Napoleon, under pressure from his
+whole army, did the same thing. The rustle of the battle of Tarutino
+frightened the beast, and it rushed forward onto the hunter's gun,
+reached him, turned back, and finally--like any wild beast--ran back
+along the most disadvantageous and dangerous path, where the old scent
+was familiar.
+
+During the whole of that period Napoleon, who seems to us to have been
+the leader of all these movements--as the figurehead of a ship may seem
+to a savage to guide the vessel--acted like a child who, holding a
+couple of strings inside a carriage, thinks he is driving it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+Early in the morning of the sixth of October Pierre went out of the
+shed, and on returning stopped by the door to play with a little blue-
+gray dog, with a long body and short bandy legs, that jumped about him.
+This little dog lived in their shed, sleeping beside Karataev at night;
+it sometimes made excursions into the town but always returned again.
+Probably it had never had an owner, and it still belonged to nobody and
+had no name. The French called it Azor; the soldier who told stories
+called it Femgalka; Karataev and others called it Gray, or sometimes
+Flabby. Its lack of a master, a name, or even of a breed or any definite
+color did not seem to trouble the blue-gray dog in the least. Its furry
+tail stood up firm and round as a plume, its bandy legs served it so
+well that it would often gracefully lift a hind leg and run very easily
+and quickly on three legs, as if disdaining to use all four. Everything
+pleased it. Now it would roll on its back, yelping with delight, now
+bask in the sun with a thoughtful air of importance, and now frolic
+about playing with a chip of wood or a straw.
+
+Pierre's attire by now consisted of a dirty torn shirt (the only remnant
+of his former clothing), a pair of soldier's trousers which by
+Karataev's advice he tied with string round the ankles for warmth, and a
+peasant coat and cap. Physically he had changed much during this time.
+He no longer seemed stout, though he still had the appearance of
+solidity and strength hereditary in his family. A beard and mustache
+covered the lower part of his face, and a tangle of hair, infested with
+lice, curled round his head like a cap. The look of his eyes was
+resolute, calm, and animatedly alert, as never before. The former
+slackness which had shown itself even in his eyes was now replaced by an
+energetic readiness for action and resistance. His feet were bare.
+
+Pierre first looked down the field across which vehicles and horsemen
+were passing that morning, then into the distance across the river, then
+at the dog who was pretending to be in earnest about biting him, and
+then at his bare feet which he placed with pleasure in various
+positions, moving his dirty thick big toes. Every time he looked at his
+bare feet a smile of animated self-satisfaction flitted across his face.
+The sight of them reminded him of all he had experienced and learned
+during these weeks and this recollection was pleasant to him.
+
+For some days the weather had been calm and clear with slight frosts in
+the mornings--what is called an "old wives' summer."
+
+In the sunshine the air was warm, and that warmth was particularly
+pleasant with the invigorating freshness of the morning frost still in
+the air.
+
+On everything--far and near--lay the magic crystal glitter seen only at
+that time of autumn. The Sparrow Hills were visible in the distance,
+with the village, the church, and the large white house. The bare trees,
+the sand, the bricks and roofs of the houses, the green church spire,
+and the corners of the white house in the distance, all stood out in the
+transparent air in most delicate outline and with unnatural clearness.
+Near by could be seen the familiar ruins of a half-burned mansion
+occupied by the French, with lilac bushes still showing dark green
+beside the fence. And even that ruined and befouled house--which in dull
+weather was repulsively ugly--seemed quietly beautiful now, in the
+clear, motionless brilliance.
+
+A French corporal, with coat unbuttoned in a homely way, a skullcap on
+his head, and a short pipe in his mouth, came from behind a corner of
+the shed and approached Pierre with a friendly wink.
+
+"What sunshine, Monsieur Kiril!" (Their name for Pierre.) "Eh? Just like
+spring!"
+
+And the corporal leaned against the door and offered Pierre his pipe,
+though whenever he offered it Pierre always declined it.
+
+"To be on the march in such weather..." he began.
+
+Pierre inquired what was being said about leaving, and the corporal told
+him that nearly all the troops were starting and there ought to be an
+order about the prisoners that day. Sokolov, one of the soldiers in the
+shed with Pierre, was dying, and Pierre told the corporal that something
+should be done about him. The corporal replied that Pierre need not
+worry about that as they had an ambulance and a permanent hospital and
+arrangements would be made for the sick, and that in general everything
+that could happen had been foreseen by the authorities.
+
+"Besides, Monsieur Kiril, you have only to say a word to the captain,
+you know. He is a man who never forgets anything. Speak to the captain
+when he makes his round, he will do anything for you."
+
+(The captain of whom the corporal spoke often had long chats with Pierre
+and showed him all sorts of favors.)
+
+"'You see, St. Thomas,' he said to me the other day. 'Monsieur Kiril is
+a man of education, who speaks French. He is a Russian seigneur who has
+had misfortunes, but he is a man. He knows what's what.... If he wants
+anything and asks me, he won't get a refusal. When one has studied, you
+see, one likes education and well-bred people.' It is for your sake I
+mention it, Monsieur Kiril. The other day if it had not been for you
+that affair would have ended ill."
+
+And after chatting a while longer, the corporal went away. (The affair
+he had alluded to had happened a few days before--a fight between the
+prisoners and the French soldiers, in which Pierre had succeeded in
+pacifying his comrades.) Some of the prisoners who had heard Pierre
+talking to the corporal immediately asked what the Frenchman had said.
+While Pierre was repeating what he had been told about the army leaving
+Moscow, a thin, sallow, tattered French soldier came up to the door of
+the shed. Rapidly and timidly raising his fingers to his forehead by way
+of greeting, he asked Pierre whether the soldier Platoche to whom he had
+given a shirt to sew was in that shed.
+
+A week before the French had had boot leather and linen issued to them,
+which they had given out to the prisoners to make up into boots and
+shirts for them.
+
+"Ready, ready, dear fellow!" said Karataev, coming out with a neatly
+folded shirt.
+
+Karataev, on account of the warm weather and for convenience at work,
+was wearing only trousers and a tattered shirt as black as soot. His
+hair was bound round, workman fashion, with a wisp of lime-tree bast,
+and his round face seemed rounder and pleasanter than ever.
+
+"A promise is own brother to performance! I said Friday and here it is,
+ready," said Platon, smiling and unfolding the shirt he had sewn.
+
+The Frenchman glanced around uneasily and then, as if overcoming his
+hesitation, rapidly threw off his uniform and put on the shirt. He had a
+long, greasy, flowered silk waistcoat next to his sallow, thin bare
+body, but no shirt. He was evidently afraid the prisoners looking on
+would laugh at him, and thrust his head into the shirt hurriedly. None
+of the prisoners said a word.
+
+"See, it fits well!" Platon kept repeating, pulling the shirt straight.
+
+The Frenchman, having pushed his head and hands through, without raising
+his eyes, looked down at the shirt and examined the seams.
+
+"You see, dear man, this is not a sewing shop, and I had no proper
+tools; and, as they say, one needs a tool even to kill a louse," said
+Platon with one of his round smiles, obviously pleased with his work.
+
+"It's good, quite good, thank you," said the Frenchman, in French, "but
+there must be some linen left over."
+
+"It will fit better still when it sets to your body," said Karataev,
+still admiring his handiwork. "You'll be nice and comfortable...."
+
+"Thanks, thanks, old fellow.... But the bits left over?" said the
+Frenchman again and smiled. He took out an assignation ruble note and
+gave it to Karataev. "But give me the pieces that are over."
+
+Pierre saw that Platon did not want to understand what the Frenchman was
+saying, and he looked on without interfering. Karataev thanked the
+Frenchman for the money and went on admiring his own work. The Frenchman
+insisted on having the pieces returned that were left over and asked
+Pierre to translate what he said.
+
+"What does he want the bits for?" said Karataev. "They'd make fine leg
+bands for us. Well, never mind."
+
+And Karataev, with a suddenly changed and saddened expression, took a
+small bundle of scraps from inside his shirt and gave it to the
+Frenchman without looking at him. "Oh dear!" muttered Karataev and went
+away. The Frenchman looked at the linen, considered for a moment, then
+looked inquiringly at Pierre and, as if Pierre's look had told him
+something, suddenly blushed and shouted in a squeaky voice:
+
+"Platoche! Eh, Platoche! Keep them yourself!" And handing back the odd
+bits he turned and went out.
+
+"There, look at that," said Karataev, swaying his head. "People said
+they were not Christians, but they too have souls. It's what the old
+folk used to say: 'A sweating hand's an open hand, a dry hand's close.'
+He's naked, but yet he's given it back."
+
+Karataev smiled thoughtfully and was silent awhile looking at the
+pieces.
+
+"But they'll make grand leg bands, dear friend," he said, and went back
+into the shed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+Four weeks had passed since Pierre had been taken prisoner and though
+the French had offered to move him from the men's to the officers' shed,
+he had stayed in the shed where he was first put.
+
+In burned and devastated Moscow Pierre experienced almost the extreme
+limits of privation a man can endure; but thanks to his physical
+strength and health, of which he had till then been unconscious, and
+thanks especially to the fact that the privations came so gradually that
+it was impossible to say when they began, he endured his position not
+only lightly but joyfully. And just at this time he obtained the
+tranquillity and ease of mind he had formerly striven in vain to reach.
+He had long sought in different ways that tranquillity of mind, that
+inner harmony which had so impressed him in the soldiers at the battle
+of Borodino. He had sought it in philanthropy, in Freemasonry, in the
+dissipations of town life, in wine, in heroic feats of self-sacrifice,
+and in romantic love for Natasha; he had sought it by reasoning--and all
+these quests and experiments had failed him. And now without thinking
+about it he had found that peace and inner harmony only through the
+horror of death, through privation, and through what he recognized in
+Karataev.
+
+Those dreadful moments he had lived through at the executions had as it
+were forever washed away from his imagination and memory the agitating
+thoughts and feelings that had formerly seemed so important. It did not
+now occur to him to think of Russia, or the war, or politics, or
+Napoleon. It was plain to him that all these things were no business of
+his, and that he was not called on to judge concerning them and
+therefore could not do so. "Russia and summer weather are not bound
+together," he thought, repeating words of Karataev's which he found
+strangely consoling. His intention of killing Napoleon and his
+calculations of the cabalistic number of the beast of the Apocalypse now
+seemed to him meaningless and even ridiculous. His anger with his wife
+and anxiety that his name should not be smirched now seemed not merely
+trivial but even amusing. What concern was it of his that somewhere or
+other that woman was leading the life she preferred? What did it matter
+to anybody, and especially to him, whether or not they found out that
+their prisoner's name was Count Bezukhov?
+
+He now often remembered his conversation with Prince Andrew and quite
+agreed with him, though he understood Prince Andrew's thoughts somewhat
+differently. Prince Andrew had thought and said that happiness could
+only be negative, but had said it with a shade of bitterness and irony
+as though he was really saying that all desire for positive happiness is
+implanted in us merely to torment us and never be satisfied. But Pierre
+believed it without any mental reservation. The absence of suffering,
+the satisfaction of one's needs and consequent freedom in the choice of
+one's occupation, that is, of one's way of life, now seemed to Pierre to
+be indubitably man's highest happiness. Here and now for the first time
+he fully appreciated the enjoyment of eating when he wanted to eat,
+drinking when he wanted to drink, sleeping when he wanted to sleep, of
+warmth when he was cold, of talking to a fellow man when he wished to
+talk and to hear a human voice. The satisfaction of one's needs--good
+food, cleanliness, and freedom--now that he was deprived of all this,
+seemed to Pierre to constitute perfect happiness; and the choice of
+occupation, that is, of his way of life--now that that was so
+restricted--seemed to him such an easy matter that he forgot that a
+superfluity of the comforts of life destroys all joy in satisfying one's
+needs, while great freedom in the choice of occupation--such freedom as
+his wealth, his education, and his social position had given him in his
+own life--is just what makes the choice of occupation insolubly
+difficult and destroys the desire and possibility of having an
+occupation.
+
+All Pierre's daydreams now turned on the time when he would be free. Yet
+subsequently, and for the rest of his life, he thought and spoke with
+enthusiasm of that month of captivity, of those irrecoverable, strong,
+joyful sensations, and chiefly of the complete peace of mind and inner
+freedom which he experienced only during those weeks.
+
+When on the first day he got up early, went out of the shed at dawn, and
+saw the cupolas and crosses of the New Convent of the Virgin still dark
+at first, the hoarfrost on the dusty grass, the Sparrow Hills, and the
+wooded banks above the winding river vanishing in the purple distance,
+when he felt the contact of the fresh air and heard the noise of the
+crows flying from Moscow across the field, and when afterwards light
+gleamed from the east and the sun's rim appeared solemnly from behind a
+cloud, and the cupolas and crosses, the hoarfrost, the distance and the
+river, all began to sparkle in the glad light--Pierre felt a new joy and
+strength in life such as he had never before known. And this not only
+stayed with him during the whole of his imprisonment, but even grew in
+strength as the hardships of his position increased.
+
+That feeling of alertness and of readiness for anything was still
+further strengthened in him by the high opinion his fellow prisoners
+formed of him soon after his arrival at the shed. With his knowledge of
+languages, the respect shown him by the French, his simplicity, his
+readiness to give anything asked of him (he received the allowance of
+three rubles a week made to officers); with his strength, which he
+showed to the soldiers by pressing nails into the walls of the hut; his
+gentleness to his companions, and his capacity for sitting still and
+thinking without doing anything (which seemed to them incomprehensible),
+he appeared to them a rather mysterious and superior being. The very
+qualities that had been a hindrance, if not actually harmful, to him in
+the world he had lived in--his strength, his disdain for the comforts of
+life, his absent-mindedness and simplicity--here among these people gave
+him almost the status of a hero. And Pierre felt that their opinion
+placed responsibilities upon him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+The French evacuation began on the night between the sixth and seventh
+of October: kitchens and sheds were dismantled, carts loaded, and troops
+and baggage trains started.
+
+At seven in the morning a French convoy in marching trim, wearing shakos
+and carrying muskets, knapsacks, and enormous sacks, stood in front of
+the sheds, and animated French talk mingled with curses sounded all
+along the lines.
+
+In the shed everyone was ready, dressed, belted, shod, and only awaited
+the order to start. The sick soldier, Sokolov, pale and thin with dark
+shadows round his eyes, alone sat in his place barefoot and not dressed.
+His eyes, prominent from the emaciation of his face, gazed inquiringly
+at his comrades who were paying no attention to him, and he moaned
+regularly and quietly. It was evidently not so much his sufferings that
+caused him to moan (he had dysentery) as his fear and grief at being
+left alone.
+
+Pierre, girt with a rope round his waist and wearing shoes Karataev had
+made for him from some leather a French soldier had torn off a tea chest
+and brought to have his boots mended with, went up to the sick man and
+squatted down beside him.
+
+"You know, Sokolov, they are not all going away! They have a hospital
+here. You may be better off than we others," said Pierre.
+
+"O Lord! Oh, it will be the death of me! O Lord!" moaned the man in a
+louder voice.
+
+"I'll go and ask them again directly," said Pierre, rising and going to
+the door of the shed.
+
+Just as Pierre reached the door, the corporal who had offered him a pipe
+the day before came up to it with two soldiers. The corporal and
+soldiers were in marching kit with knapsacks and shakos that had metal
+straps, and these changed their familiar faces.
+
+The corporal came, according to orders, to shut the door. The prisoners
+had to be counted before being let out.
+
+"Corporal, what will they do with the sick man?..." Pierre began.
+
+But even as he spoke he began to doubt whether this was the corporal he
+knew or a stranger, so unlike himself did the corporal seem at that
+moment. Moreover, just as Pierre was speaking a sharp rattle of drums
+was suddenly heard from both sides. The corporal frowned at Pierre's
+words and, uttering some meaningless oaths, slammed the door. The shed
+became semidark, and the sharp rattle of the drums on two sides drowned
+the sick man's groans.
+
+"There it is!... It again!..." said Pierre to himself, and an
+involuntary shudder ran down his spine. In the corporal's changed face,
+in the sound of his voice, in the stirring and deafening noise of the
+drums, he recognized that mysterious, callous force which compelled
+people against their will to kill their fellow men--that force the
+effect of which he had witnessed during the executions. To fear or to
+try to escape that force, to address entreaties or exhortations to those
+who served as its tools, was useless. Pierre knew this now. One had to
+wait and endure. He did not again go to the sick man, nor turn to look
+at him, but stood frowning by the door of the hut.
+
+When that door was opened and the prisoners, crowding against one
+another like a flock of sheep, squeezed into the exit, Pierre pushed his
+way forward and approached that very captain who as the corporal had
+assured him was ready to do anything for him. The captain was also in
+marching kit, and on his cold face appeared that same it which Pierre
+had recognized in the corporal's words and in the roll of the drums.
+
+"Pass on, pass on!" the captain reiterated, frowning sternly, and
+looking at the prisoners who thronged past him.
+
+Pierre went up to him, though he knew his attempt would be vain.
+
+"What now?" the officer asked with a cold look as if not recognizing
+Pierre.
+
+Pierre told him about the sick man.
+
+"He'll manage to walk, devil take him!" said the captain. "Pass on, pass
+on!" he continued without looking at Pierre.
+
+"But he is dying," Pierre again began.
+
+"Be so good..." shouted the captain, frowning angrily.
+
+"Dram-da-da-dam, dam-dam..." rattled the drums, and Pierre understood
+that this mysterious force completely controlled these men and that it
+was now useless to say any more.
+
+The officer prisoners were separated from the soldiers and told to march
+in front. There were about thirty officers, with Pierre among them, and
+about three hundred men.
+
+The officers, who had come from the other sheds, were all strangers to
+Pierre and much better dressed than he. They looked at him and at his
+shoes mistrustfully, as at an alien. Not far from him walked a fat major
+with a sallow, bloated, angry face, who was wearing a Kazan dressing
+gown tied round with a towel, and who evidently enjoyed the respect of
+his fellow prisoners. He kept one hand, in which he clasped his tobacco
+pouch, inside the bosom of his dressing gown and held the stem of his
+pipe firmly with the other. Panting and puffing, the major grumbled and
+growled at everybody because he thought he was being pushed and that
+they were all hurrying when they had nowhere to hurry to and were all
+surprised at something when there was nothing to be surprised at.
+Another, a thin little officer, was speaking to everyone, conjecturing
+where they were now being taken and how far they would get that day. An
+official in felt boots and wearing a commissariat uniform ran round from
+side to side and gazed at the ruins of Moscow, loudly announcing his
+observations as to what had been burned down and what this or that part
+of the city was that they could see. A third officer, who by his accent
+was a Pole, disputed with the commissariat officer, arguing that he was
+mistaken in his identification of the different wards of Moscow.
+
+"What are you disputing about?" said the major angrily. "What does it
+matter whether it is St. Nicholas or St. Blasius? You see it's burned
+down, and there's an end of it.... What are you pushing for? Isn't the
+road wide enough?" said he, turning to a man behind him who was not
+pushing him at all.
+
+"Oh, oh, oh! What have they done?" the prisoners on one side and another
+were heard saying as they gazed on the charred ruins. "All beyond the
+river, and Zubova, and in the Kremlin.... Just look! There's not half of
+it left. Yes, I told you--the whole quarter beyond the river, and so it
+is."
+
+"Well, you know it's burned, so what's the use of talking?" said the
+major.
+
+As they passed near a church in the Khamovniki (one of the few unburned
+quarters of Moscow) the whole mass of prisoners suddenly started to one
+side and exclamations of horror and disgust were heard.
+
+"Ah, the villains! What heathens! Yes; dead, dead, so he is... And
+smeared with something!"
+
+Pierre too drew near the church where the thing was that evoked these
+exclamations, and dimly made out something leaning against the palings
+surrounding the church. From the words of his comrades who saw better
+than he did, he found that this was the body of a man, set upright
+against the palings with its face smeared with soot.
+
+"Go on! What the devil... Go on! Thirty thousand devils!..." the convoy
+guards began cursing and the French soldiers, with fresh virulence,
+drove away with their swords the crowd of prisoners who were gazing at
+the dead man.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+Through the cross streets of the Khamovniki quarter the prisoners
+marched, followed only by their escort and the vehicles and wagons
+belonging to that escort, but when they reached the supply stores they
+came among a huge and closely packed train of artillery mingled with
+private vehicles.
+
+At the bridge they all halted, waiting for those in front to get across.
+From the bridge they had a view of endless lines of moving baggage
+trains before and behind them. To the right, where the Kaluga road turns
+near Neskuchny, endless rows of troops and carts stretched away into the
+distance. These were troops of Beauharnais' corps which had started
+before any of the others. Behind, along the riverside and across the
+Stone Bridge, were Ney's troops and transport.
+
+Davout's troops, in whose charge were the prisoners, were crossing the
+Crimean bridge and some were already debouching into the Kaluga road.
+But the baggage trains stretched out so that the last of Beauharnais'
+train had not yet got out of Moscow and reached the Kaluga road when the
+vanguard of Ney's army was already emerging from the Great Ordynka
+Street.
+
+When they had crossed the Crimean bridge the prisoners moved a few steps
+forward, halted, and again moved on, and from all sides vehicles and men
+crowded closer and closer together. They advanced the few hundred paces
+that separated the bridge from the Kaluga road, taking more than an hour
+to do so, and came out upon the square where the streets of the
+Transmoskva ward and the Kaluga road converge, and the prisoners jammed
+close together had to stand for some hours at that crossway. From all
+sides, like the roar of the sea, were heard the rattle of wheels, the
+tramp of feet, and incessant shouts of anger and abuse. Pierre stood
+pressed against the wall of a charred house, listening to that noise
+which mingled in his imagination with the roll of the drums.
+
+To get a better view, several officer prisoners climbed onto the wall of
+the half-burned house against which Pierre was leaning.
+
+"What crowds! Just look at the crowds!... They've loaded goods even on
+the cannon! Look there, those are furs!" they exclaimed. "Just see what
+the blackguards have looted.... There! See what that one has behind in
+the cart.... Why, those are settings taken from some icons, by
+heaven!... Oh, the rascals!... See how that fellow has loaded himself
+up, he can hardly walk! Good lord, they've even grabbed those
+chaises!... See that fellow there sitting on the trunks.... Heavens!
+They're fighting."
+
+"That's right, hit him on the snout--on his snout! Like this, we shan't
+get away before evening. Look, look there.... Why, that must be
+Napoleon's own. See what horses! And the monograms with a crown! It's
+like a portable house.... That fellow's dropped his sack and doesn't see
+it. Fighting again... A woman with a baby, and not bad-looking either!
+Yes, I dare say, that's the way they'll let you pass... Just look,
+there's no end to it. Russian wenches, by heaven, so they are! In
+carriages--see how comfortably they've settled themselves!"
+
+Again, as at the church in Khamovniki, a wave of general curiosity bore
+all the prisoners forward onto the road, and Pierre, thanks to his
+stature, saw over the heads of the others what so attracted their
+curiosity. In three carriages involved among the munition carts, closely
+squeezed together, sat women with rouged faces, dressed in glaring
+colors, who were shouting something in shrill voices.
+
+From the moment Pierre had recognized the appearance of the mysterious
+force nothing had seemed to him strange or dreadful: neither the corpse
+smeared with soot for fun nor these women hurrying away nor the burned
+ruins of Moscow. All that he now witnessed scarcely made an impression
+on him--as if his soul, making ready for a hard struggle, refused to
+receive impressions that might weaken it.
+
+The women's vehicles drove by. Behind them came more carts, soldiers,
+wagons, soldiers, gun carriages, carriages, soldiers, ammunition carts,
+more soldiers, and now and then women.
+
+Pierre did not see the people as individuals but saw their movement.
+
+All these people and horses seemed driven forward by some invisible
+power. During the hour Pierre watched them they all came flowing from
+the different streets with one and the same desire to get on quickly;
+they all jostled one another, began to grow angry and to fight, white
+teeth gleamed, brows frowned, ever the same words of abuse flew from
+side to side, and all the faces bore the same swaggeringly resolute and
+coldly cruel expression that had struck Pierre that morning on the
+corporal's face when the drums were beating.
+
+It was not till nearly evening that the officer commanding the escort
+collected his men and with shouts and quarrels forced his way in among
+the baggage trains, and the prisoners, hemmed in on all sides, emerged
+onto the Kaluga road.
+
+They marched very quickly, without resting, and halted only when the sun
+began to set. The baggage carts drew up close together and the men began
+to prepare for their night's rest. They all appeared angry and
+dissatisfied. For a long time, oaths, angry shouts, and fighting could
+be heard from all sides. A carriage that followed the escort ran into
+one of the carts and knocked a hole in it with its pole. Several
+soldiers ran toward the cart from different sides: some beat the
+carriage horses on their heads, turning them aside, others fought among
+themselves, and Pierre saw that one German was badly wounded on the head
+by a sword.
+
+It seemed that all these men, now that they had stopped amid fields in
+the chill dusk of the autumn evening, experienced one and the same
+feeling of unpleasant awakening from the hurry and eagerness to push on
+that had seized them at the start. Once at a standstill they all seemed
+to understand that they did not yet know where they were going, and that
+much that was painful and difficult awaited them on this journey.
+
+During this halt the escort treated the prisoners even worse than they
+had done at the start. It was here that the prisoners for the first time
+received horseflesh for their meat ration.
+
+From the officer down to the lowest soldier they showed what seemed like
+personal spite against each of the prisoners, in unexpected contrast to
+their former friendly relations.
+
+This spite increased still more when, on calling over the roll of
+prisoners, it was found that in the bustle of leaving Moscow one Russian
+soldier, who had pretended to suffer from colic, had escaped. Pierre saw
+a Frenchman beat a Russian soldier cruelly for straying too far from the
+road, and heard his friend the captain reprimand and threaten to court-
+martial a noncommissioned officer on account of the escape of the
+Russian. To the noncommissioned officer's excuse that the prisoner was
+ill and could not walk, the officer replied that the order was to shoot
+those who lagged behind. Pierre felt that that fatal force which had
+crushed him during the executions, but which he had not felt during his
+imprisonment, now again controlled his existence. It was terrible, but
+he felt that in proportion to the efforts of that fatal force to crush
+him, there grew and strengthened in his soul a power of life independent
+of it.
+
+He ate his supper of buckwheat soup with horseflesh and chatted with his
+comrades.
+
+Neither Pierre nor any of the others spoke of what they had seen in
+Moscow, or of the roughness of their treatment by the French, or of the
+order to shoot them which had been announced to them. As if in reaction
+against the worsening of their position they were all particularly
+animated and gay. They spoke of personal reminiscences, of amusing
+scenes they had witnessed during the campaign, and avoided all talk of
+their present situation.
+
+The sun had set long since. Bright stars shone out here and there in the
+sky. A red glow as of a conflagration spread above the horizon from the
+rising full moon, and that vast red ball swayed strangely in the gray
+haze. It grew light. The evening was ending, but the night had not yet
+come. Pierre got up and left his new companions, crossing between the
+campfires to the other side of the road where he had been told the
+common soldier prisoners were stationed. He wanted to talk to them. On
+the road he was stopped by a French sentinel who ordered him back.
+
+Pierre turned back, not to his companions by the campfire, but to an
+unharnessed cart where there was nobody. Tucking his legs under him and
+dropping his head he sat down on the cold ground by the wheel of the
+cart and remained motionless a long while sunk in thought. Suddenly he
+burst out into a fit of his broad, good-natured laughter, so loud that
+men from various sides turned with surprise to see what this strange and
+evidently solitary laughter could mean.
+
+"Ha-ha-ha!" laughed Pierre. And he said aloud to himself: "The soldier
+did not let me pass. They took me and shut me up. They hold me captive.
+What, me? Me? My immortal soul? Ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha!..." and he laughed
+till tears started to his eyes.
+
+A man got up and came to see what this queer big fellow was laughing at
+all by himself. Pierre stopped laughing, got up, went farther away from
+the inquisitive man, and looked around him.
+
+The huge, endless bivouac that had previously resounded with the
+crackling of campfires and the voices of many men had grown quiet, the
+red campfires were growing paler and dying down. High up in the light
+sky hung the full moon. Forests and fields beyond the camp, unseen
+before, were now visible in the distance. And farther still, beyond
+those forests and fields, the bright, oscillating, limitless distance
+lured one to itself. Pierre glanced up at the sky and the twinkling
+stars in its faraway depths. "And all that is me, all that is within me,
+and it is all I!" thought Pierre. "And they caught all that and put it
+into a shed boarded up with planks!" He smiled, and went and lay down to
+sleep beside his companions.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+In the early days of October another envoy came to Kutuzov with a letter
+from Napoleon proposing peace and falsely dated from Moscow, though
+Napoleon was already not far from Kutuzov on the old Kaluga road.
+Kutuzov replied to this letter as he had done to the one formerly
+brought by Lauriston, saying that there could be no question of peace.
+
+Soon after that a report was received from Dorokhov's guerrilla
+detachment operating to the left of Tarutino that troops of Broussier's
+division had been seen at Forminsk and that being separated from the
+rest of the French army they might easily be destroyed. The soldiers and
+officers again demanded action. Generals on the staff, excited by the
+memory of the easy victory at Tarutino, urged Kutuzov to carry out
+Dorokhov's suggestion. Kutuzov did not consider any offensive necessary.
+The result was a compromise which was inevitable: a small detachment was
+sent to Forminsk to attack Broussier.
+
+By a strange coincidence, this task, which turned out to be a most
+difficult and important one, was entrusted to Dokhturov--that same
+modest little Dokhturov whom no one had described to us as drawing up
+plans of battles, dashing about in front of regiments, showering crosses
+on batteries, and so on, and who was thought to be and was spoken of as
+undecided and undiscerning--but whom we find commanding wherever the
+position was most difficult all through the Russo-French wars from
+Austerlitz to the year 1813. At Austerlitz he remained last at the
+Augezd dam, rallying the regiments, saving what was possible when all
+were flying and perishing and not a single general was left in the rear
+guard. Ill with fever he went to Smolensk with twenty thousand men to
+defend the town against Napoleon's whole army. In Smolensk, at the
+Malakhov Gate, he had hardly dozed off in a paroxysm of fever before he
+was awakened by the bombardment of the town--and Smolensk held out all
+day long. At the battle of Borodino, when Bagration was killed and nine
+tenths of the men of our left flank had fallen and the full force of the
+French artillery fire was directed against it, the man sent there was
+this same irresolute and undiscerning Dokhturov--Kutuzov hastening to
+rectify a mistake he had made by sending someone else there first. And
+the quiet little Dokhturov rode thither, and Borodino became the
+greatest glory of the Russian army. Many heroes have been described to
+us in verse and prose, but of Dokhturov scarcely a word has been said.
+
+It was Dokhturov again whom they sent to Forminsk and from there to
+Malo-Yaroslavets, the place where the last battle with the French was
+fought and where the obvious disintegration of the French army began;
+and we are told of many geniuses and heroes of that period of the
+campaign, but of Dokhturov nothing or very little is said and that
+dubiously. And this silence about Dokhturov is the clearest testimony to
+his merit.
+
+It is natural for a man who does not understand the workings of a
+machine to imagine that a shaving that has fallen into it by chance and
+is interfering with its action and tossing about in it is its most
+important part. The man who does not understand the construction of the
+machine cannot conceive that the small connecting cogwheel which
+revolves quietly is one of the most essential parts of the machine, and
+not the shaving which merely harms and hinders the working.
+
+On the tenth of October when Dokhturov had gone halfway to Forminsk and
+stopped at the village of Aristovo, preparing faithfully to execute the
+orders he had received, the whole French army having, in its convulsive
+movement, reached Murat's position apparently in order to give battle--
+suddenly without any reason turned off to the left onto the new Kaluga
+road and began to enter Forminsk, where only Broussier had been till
+then. At that time Dokhturov had under his command, besides Dorokhov's
+detachment, the two small guerrilla detachments of Figner and Seslavin.
+
+On the evening of October 11 Seslavin came to the Aristovo headquarters
+with a French guardsman he had captured. The prisoner said that the
+troops that had entered Forminsk that day were the vanguard of the whole
+army, that Napoleon was there and the whole army had left Moscow four
+days previously. That same evening a house serf who had come from
+Borovsk said he had seen an immense army entering the town. Some
+Cossacks of Dokhturov's detachment reported having sighted the French
+Guards marching along the road to Borovsk. From all these reports it was
+evident that where they had expected to meet a single division there was
+now the whole French army marching from Moscow in an unexpected
+direction--along the Kaluga road. Dokhturov was unwilling to undertake
+any action, as it was not clear to him now what he ought to do. He had
+been ordered to attack Forminsk. But only Broussier had been there at
+that time and now the whole French army was there. Ermolov wished to act
+on his own judgment, but Dokhturov insisted that he must have Kutuzov's
+instructions. So it was decided to send a dispatch to the staff.
+
+For this purpose a capable officer, Bolkhovitinov, was chosen, who was
+to explain the whole affair by word of mouth, besides delivering a
+written report. Toward midnight Bolkhovitinov, having received the
+dispatch and verbal instructions, galloped off to the General Staff
+accompanied by a Cossack with spare horses.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+It was a warm, dark, autumn night. It had been raining for four days.
+Having changed horses twice and galloped twenty miles in an hour and a
+half over a sticky, muddy road, Bolkhovitinov reached Litashevka after
+one o'clock at night. Dismounting at a cottage on whose wattle fence
+hung a signboard, GENERAL STAFF, and throwing down his reins, he entered
+a dark passage.
+
+"The general on duty, quick! It's very important!" said he to someone
+who had risen and was sniffing in the dark passage.
+
+"He has been very unwell since the evening and this is the third night
+he has not slept," said the orderly pleadingly in a whisper. "You should
+wake the captain first."
+
+"But this is very important, from General Dokhturov," said
+Bolkhovitinov, entering the open door which he had found by feeling in
+the dark.
+
+The orderly had gone in before him and began waking somebody.
+
+"Your honor, your honor! A courier."
+
+"What? What's that? From whom?" came a sleepy voice.
+
+"From Dokhturov and from Alexey Petrovich. Napoleon is at Forminsk,"
+said Bolkhovitinov, unable to see in the dark who was speaking but
+guessing by the voice that it was not Konovnitsyn.
+
+The man who had wakened yawned and stretched himself.
+
+"I don't like waking him," he said, fumbling for something. "He is very
+ill. Perhaps this is only a rumor."
+
+"Here is the dispatch," said Bolkhovitinov. "My orders are to give it at
+once to the general on duty."
+
+"Wait a moment, I'll light a candle. You damned rascal, where do you
+always hide it?" said the voice of the man who was stretching himself,
+to the orderly. (This was Shcherbinin, Konovnitsyn's adjutant.) "I've
+found it, I've found it!" he added.
+
+The orderly was striking a light and Shcherbinin was fumbling for
+something on the candlestick.
+
+"Oh, the nasty beasts!" said he with disgust.
+
+By the light of the sparks Bolkhovitinov saw Shcherbinin's youthful face
+as he held the candle, and the face of another man who was still asleep.
+This was Konovnitsyn.
+
+When the flame of the sulphur splinters kindled by the tinder burned up,
+first blue and then red, Shcherbinin lit the tallow candle, from the
+candlestick of which the cockroaches that had been gnawing it were
+running away, and looked at the messenger. Bolkhovitinov was bespattered
+all over with mud and had smeared his face by wiping it with his sleeve.
+
+"Who gave the report?" inquired Shcherbinin, taking the envelope.
+
+"The news is reliable," said Bolkhovitinov. "Prisoners, Cossacks, and
+the scouts all say the same thing."
+
+"There's nothing to be done, we'll have to wake him," said Shcherbinin,
+rising and going up to the man in the nightcap who lay covered by a
+greatcoat. "Peter Petrovich!" said he. (Konovnitsyn did not stir.) "To
+the General Staff!" he said with a smile, knowing that those words would
+be sure to arouse him.
+
+And in fact the head in the nightcap was lifted at once. On
+Konovnitsyn's handsome, resolute face with cheeks flushed by fever,
+there still remained for an instant a faraway dreamy expression remote
+from present affairs, but then he suddenly started and his face assumed
+its habitual calm and firm appearance.
+
+"Well, what is it? From whom?" he asked immediately but without hurry,
+blinking at the light.
+
+While listening to the officer's report Konovnitsyn broke the seal and
+read the dispatch. Hardly had he done so before he lowered his legs in
+their woolen stockings to the earthen floor and began putting on his
+boots. Then he took off his nightcap, combed his hair over his temples,
+and donned his cap.
+
+"Did you get here quickly? Let us go to his Highness."
+
+Konovnitsyn had understood at once that the news brought was of great
+importance and that no time must be lost. He did not consider or ask
+himself whether the news was good or bad. That did not interest him. He
+regarded the whole business of the war not with his intelligence or his
+reason but by something else. There was within him a deep unexpressed
+conviction that all would be well, but that one must not trust to this
+and still less speak about it, but must only attend to one's own work.
+And he did his work, giving his whole strength to the task.
+
+Peter Petrovich Konovnitsyn, like Dokhturov, seems to have been included
+merely for propriety's sake in the list of the so-called heroes of 1812-
+-the Barclays, Raevskis, Ermolovs, Platovs, and Miloradoviches. Like
+Dokhturov he had the reputation of being a man of very limited capacity
+and information, and like Dokhturov he never made plans of battle but
+was always found where the situation was most difficult. Since his
+appointment as general on duty he had always slept with his door open,
+giving orders that every messenger should be allowed to wake him up. In
+battle he was always under fire, so that Kutuzov reproved him for it and
+feared to send him to the front, and like Dokhturov he was one of those
+unnoticed cogwheels that, without clatter or noise, constitute the most
+essential part of the machine.
+
+Coming out of the hut into the damp, dark night Konovnitsyn frowned--
+partly from an increased pain in his head and partly at the unpleasant
+thought that occurred to him, of how all that nest of influential men on
+the staff would be stirred up by this news, especially Bennigsen, who
+ever since Tarutino had been at daggers drawn with Kutuzov; and how they
+would make suggestions, quarrel, issue orders, and rescind them. And
+this premonition was disagreeable to him though he knew it could not be
+helped.
+
+And in fact Toll, to whom he went to communicate the news, immediately
+began to expound his plans to a general sharing his quarters, until
+Konovnitsyn, who listened in weary silence, reminded him that they must
+go to see his Highness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+Kutuzov like all old people did not sleep much at night. He often fell
+asleep unexpectedly in the daytime, but at night, lying on his bed
+without undressing, he generally remained awake thinking.
+
+So he lay now on his bed, supporting his large, heavy, scarred head on
+his plump hand, with his one eye open, meditating and peering into the
+darkness.
+
+Since Bennigsen, who corresponded with the Emperor and had more
+influence than anyone else on the staff, had begun to avoid him, Kutuzov
+was more at ease as to the possibility of himself and his troops being
+obliged to take part in useless aggressive movements. The lesson of the
+Tarutino battle and of the day before it, which Kutuzov remembered with
+pain, must, he thought, have some effect on others too.
+
+"They must understand that we can only lose by taking the offensive.
+Patience and time are my warriors, my champions," thought Kutuzov. He
+knew that an apple should not be plucked while it is green. It will fall
+of itself when ripe, but if picked unripe the apple is spoiled, the tree
+is harmed, and your teeth are set on edge. Like an experienced sportsman
+he knew that the beast was wounded, and wounded as only the whole
+strength of Russia could have wounded it, but whether it was mortally
+wounded or not was still an undecided question. Now by the fact of
+Lauriston and Barthelemi having been sent, and by the reports of the
+guerrillas, Kutuzov was almost sure that the wound was mortal. But he
+needed further proofs and it was necessary to wait.
+
+"They want to run to see how they have wounded it. Wait and we shall
+see! Continual maneuvers, continual advances!" thought he. "What for?
+Only to distinguish themselves! As if fighting were fun. They are like
+children from whom one can't get any sensible account of what has
+happened because they all want to show how well they can fight. But
+that's not what is needed now.
+
+"And what ingenious maneuvers they all propose to me! It seems to them
+that when they have thought of two or three contingencies" (he
+remembered the general plan sent him from Petersburg) "they have
+foreseen everything. But the contingencies are endless."
+
+The undecided question as to whether the wound inflicted at Borodino was
+mortal or not had hung over Kutuzov's head for a whole month. On the one
+hand the French had occupied Moscow. On the other Kutuzov felt assured
+with all his being that the terrible blow into which he and all the
+Russians had put their whole strength must have been mortal. But in any
+case proofs were needed; he had waited a whole month for them and grew
+more impatient the longer he waited. Lying on his bed during those
+sleepless nights he did just what he reproached those younger generals
+for doing. He imagined all sorts of possible contingencies, just like
+the younger men, but with this difference, that he saw thousands of
+contingencies instead of two or three and based nothing on them. The
+longer he thought the more contingencies presented themselves. He
+imagined all sorts of movements of the Napoleonic army as a whole or in
+sections--against Petersburg, or against him, or to outflank him. He
+thought too of the possibility (which he feared most of all) that
+Napoleon might fight him with his own weapon and remain in Moscow
+awaiting him. Kutuzov even imagined that Napoleon's army might turn back
+through Medyn and Yukhnov, but the one thing he could not foresee was
+what happened--the insane, convulsive stampede of Napoleon's army during
+its first eleven days after leaving Moscow: a stampede which made
+possible what Kutuzov had not yet even dared to think of--the complete
+extermination of the French. Dorokhov's report about Broussier's
+division, the guerrillas' reports of distress in Napoleon's army, rumors
+of preparations for leaving Moscow, all confirmed the supposition that
+the French army was beaten and preparing for flight. But these were only
+suppositions, which seemed important to the younger men but not to
+Kutuzov. With his sixty years' experience he knew what value to attach
+to rumors, knew how apt people who desire anything are to group all news
+so that it appears to confirm what they desire, and he knew how readily
+in such cases they omit all that makes for the contrary. And the more he
+desired it the less he allowed himself to believe it. This question
+absorbed all his mental powers. All else was to him only life's
+customary routine. To such customary routine belonged his conversations
+with the staff, the letters he wrote from Tarutino to Madame de Stael,
+the reading of novels, the distribution of awards, his correspondence
+with Petersburg, and so on. But the destruction of the French, which he
+alone foresaw, was his heart's one desire.
+
+On the night of the eleventh of October he lay leaning on his arm and
+thinking of that.
+
+There was a stir in the next room and he heard the steps of Toll,
+Konovnitsyn, and Bolkhovitinov.
+
+"Eh, who's there? Come in, come in! What news?" the field marshal called
+out to them.
+
+While a footman was lighting a candle, Toll communicated the substance
+of the news.
+
+"Who brought it?" asked Kutuzov with a look which, when the candle was
+lit, struck Toll by its cold severity.
+
+"There can be no doubt about it, your Highness."
+
+"Call him in, call him here."
+
+Kutuzov sat up with one leg hanging down from the bed and his big paunch
+resting against the other which was doubled under him. He screwed up his
+seeing eye to scrutinize the messenger more carefully, as if wishing to
+read in his face what preoccupied his own mind.
+
+"Tell me, tell me, friend," said he to Bolkhovitinov in his low, aged
+voice, as he pulled together the shirt which gaped open on his chest,
+"come nearer--nearer. What news have you brought me? Eh? That Napoleon
+has left Moscow? Are you sure? Eh?"
+
+Bolkhovitinov gave a detailed account from the beginning of all he had
+been told to report.
+
+"Speak quicker, quicker! Don't torture me!" Kutuzov interrupted him.
+
+Bolkhovitinov told him everything and was then silent, awaiting
+instructions. Toll was beginning to say something but Kutuzov checked
+him. He tried to say something, but his face suddenly puckered and
+wrinkled; he waved his arm at Toll and turned to the opposite side of
+the room, to the corner darkened by the icons that hung there.
+
+"O Lord, my Creator, Thou has heard our prayer..." said he in a
+tremulous voice with folded hands. "Russia is saved. I thank Thee, O
+Lord!" and he wept.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+From the time he received this news to the end of the campaign all
+Kutuzov's activity was directed toward restraining his troops, by
+authority, by guile, and by entreaty, from useless attacks, maneuvers,
+or encounters with the perishing enemy. Dokhturov went to Malo-
+Yaroslavets, but Kutuzov lingered with the main army and gave orders for
+the evacuation of Kaluga--a retreat beyond which town seemed to him
+quite possible.
+
+Everywhere Kutuzov retreated, but the enemy without waiting for his
+retreat fled in the opposite direction.
+
+Napoleon's historians describe to us his skilled maneuvers at Tarutino
+and Malo-Yaroslavets, and make conjectures as to what would have
+happened had Napoleon been in time to penetrate into the rich southern
+provinces.
+
+But not to speak of the fact that nothing prevented him from advancing
+into those southern provinces (for the Russian army did not bar his
+way), the historians forget that nothing could have saved his army, for
+then already it bore within itself the germs of inevitable ruin. How
+could that army--which had found abundant supplies in Moscow and had
+trampled them underfoot instead of keeping them, and on arriving at
+Smolensk had looted provisions instead of storing them--how could that
+army recuperate in Kaluga province, which was inhabited by Russians such
+as those who lived in Moscow, and where fire had the same property of
+consuming what was set ablaze?
+
+That army could not recover anywhere. Since the battle of Borodino and
+the pillage of Moscow it had borne within itself, as it were, the
+chemical elements of dissolution.
+
+The members of what had once been an army--Napoleon himself and all his
+soldiers fled--without knowing whither, each concerned only to make his
+escape as quickly as possible from this position, of the hopelessness of
+which they were all more or less vaguely conscious.
+
+So it came about that at the council at Malo-Yaroslavets, when the
+generals pretending to confer together expressed various opinions, all
+mouths were closed by the opinion uttered by the simple-minded soldier
+Mouton who, speaking last, said what they all felt: that the one thing
+needful was to get away as quickly as possible; and no one, not even
+Napoleon, could say anything against that truth which they all
+recognized.
+
+But though they all realized that it was necessary to get away, there
+still remained a feeling of shame at admitting that they must flee. An
+external shock was needed to overcome that shame, and this shock came in
+due time. It was what the French called "le hourra de l'Empereur."
+
+The day after the council at Malo-Yaroslavets Napoleon rode out early in
+the morning amid the lines of his army with his suite of marshals and an
+escort, on the pretext of inspecting the army and the scene of the
+previous and of the impending battle. Some Cossacks on the prowl for
+booty fell in with the Emperor and very nearly captured him. If the
+Cossacks did not capture Napoleon then, what saved him was the very
+thing that was destroying the French army, the booty on which the
+Cossacks fell. Here as at Tarutino they went after plunder, leaving the
+men. Disregarding Napoleon they rushed after the plunder and Napoleon
+managed to escape.
+
+When les enfants du Don might so easily have taken the Emperor himself
+in the midst of his army, it was clear that there was nothing for it but
+to fly as fast as possible along the nearest, familiar road. Napoleon
+with his forty-year-old stomach understood that hint, not feeling his
+former agility and boldness, and under the influence of the fright the
+Cossacks had given him he at once agreed with Mouton and issued orders--
+as the historians tell us--to retreat by the Smolensk road.
+
+That Napoleon agreed with Mouton, and that the army retreated, does not
+prove that Napoleon caused it to retreat, but that the forces which
+influenced the whole army and directed it along the Mozhaysk (that is,
+the Smolensk) road acted simultaneously on him also.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+A man in motion always devises an aim for that motion. To be able to go
+a thousand miles he must imagine that something good awaits him at the
+end of those thousand miles. One must have the prospect of a promised
+land to have the strength to move.
+
+The promised land for the French during their advance had been Moscow,
+during their retreat it was their native land. But that native land was
+too far off, and for a man going a thousand miles it is absolutely
+necessary to set aside his final goal and to say to himself: "Today I
+shall get to a place twenty-five miles off where I shall rest and spend
+the night," and during the first day's journey that resting place
+eclipses his ultimate goal and attracts all his hopes and desires. And
+the impulses felt by a single person are always magnified in a crowd.
+
+For the French retreating along the old Smolensk road, the final goal--
+their native land--was too remote, and their immediate goal was
+Smolensk, toward which all their desires and hopes, enormously
+intensified in the mass, urged them on. It was not that they knew that
+much food and fresh troops awaited them in Smolensk, nor that they were
+told so (on the contrary their superior officers, and Napoleon himself,
+knew that provisions were scarce there), but because this alone could
+give them strength to move on and endure their present privations. So
+both those who knew and those who did not know deceived themselves, and
+pushed on to Smolensk as to a promised land.
+
+Coming out onto the highroad the French fled with surprising energy and
+unheard-of rapidity toward the goal they had fixed on. Besides the
+common impulse which bound the whole crowd of French into one mass and
+supplied them with a certain energy, there was another cause binding
+them together--their great numbers. As with the physical law of gravity,
+their enormous mass drew the individual human atoms to itself. In their
+hundreds of thousands they moved like a whole nation.
+
+Each of them desired nothing more than to give himself up as a prisoner
+to escape from all this horror and misery; but on the one hand the force
+of this common attraction to Smolensk, their goal, drew each of them in
+the same direction; on the other hand an army corps could not surrender
+to a company, and though the French availed themselves of every
+convenient opportunity to detach themselves and to surrender on the
+slightest decent pretext, such pretexts did not always occur. Their very
+numbers and their crowded and swift movement deprived them of that
+possibility and rendered it not only difficult but impossible for the
+Russians to stop this movement, to which the French were directing all
+their energies. Beyond a certain limit no mechanical disruption of the
+body could hasten the process of decomposition.
+
+A lump of snow cannot be melted instantaneously. There is a certain
+limit of time in less than which no amount of heat can melt the snow. On
+the contrary the greater the heat the more solidified the remaining snow
+becomes.
+
+Of the Russian commanders Kutuzov alone understood this. When the flight
+of the French army along the Smolensk road became well defined, what
+Konovnitsyn had foreseen on the night of the eleventh of October began
+to occur. The superior officers all wanted to distinguish themselves, to
+cut off, to seize, to capture, and to overthrow the French, and all
+clamored for action.
+
+Kutuzov alone used all his power (and such power is very limited in the
+case of any commander-in-chief) to prevent an attack.
+
+He could not tell them what we say now: "Why fight, why block the road,
+losing our own men and inhumanly slaughtering unfortunate wretches? What
+is the use of that, when a third of their army has melted away on the
+road from Moscow to Vyazma without any battle?" But drawing from his
+aged wisdom what they could understand, he told them of the golden
+bridge, and they laughed at and slandered him, flinging themselves on,
+rending and exulting over the dying beast.
+
+Ermolov, Miloradovich, Platov, and others in proximity to the French
+near Vyazma could not resist their desire to cut off and break up two
+French corps, and by way of reporting their intention to Kutuzov they
+sent him a blank sheet of paper in an envelope.
+
+And try as Kutuzov might to restrain the troops, our men attacked,
+trying to bar the road. Infantry regiments, we are told, advanced to the
+attack with music and with drums beating, and killed and lost thousands
+of men.
+
+But they did not cut off or overthrow anybody and the French army,
+closing up more firmly at the danger, continued, while steadily melting
+away, to pursue its fatal path to Smolensk.
+
+BOOK FOURTEEN: 1812
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+The Battle of Borodino, with the occupation of Moscow that followed it
+and the flight of the French without further conflicts, is one of the
+most instructive phenomena in history.
+
+All historians agree that the external activity of states and nations in
+their conflicts with one another is expressed in wars, and that as a
+direct result of greater or less success in war the political strength
+of states and nations increases or decreases.
+
+Strange as may be the historical account of how some king or emperor,
+having quarreled with another, collects an army, fights his enemy's
+army, gains a victory by killing three, five, or ten thousand men, and
+subjugates a kingdom and an entire nation of several millions, all the
+facts of history (as far as we know it) confirm the truth of the
+statement that the greater or lesser success of one army against another
+is the cause, or at least an essential indication, of an increase or
+decrease in the strength of the nation--even though it is unintelligible
+why the defeat of an army--a hundredth part of a nation--should oblige
+that whole nation to submit. An army gains a victory, and at once the
+rights of the conquering nation have increased to the detriment of the
+defeated. An army has suffered defeat, and at once a people loses its
+rights in proportion to the severity of the reverse, and if its army
+suffers a complete defeat the nation is quite subjugated.
+
+So according to history it has been found from the most ancient times,
+and so it is to our own day. All Napoleon's wars serve to confirm this
+rule. In proportion to the defeat of the Austrian army Austria loses its
+rights, and the rights and the strength of France increase. The
+victories of the French at Jena and Auerstadt destroy the independent
+existence of Prussia.
+
+But then, in 1812, the French gain a victory near Moscow. Moscow is
+taken and after that, with no further battles, it is not Russia that
+ceases to exist, but the French army of six hundred thousand, and then
+Napoleonic France itself. To strain the facts to fit the rules of
+history: to say that the field of battle at Borodino remained in the
+hands of the Russians, or that after Moscow there were other battles
+that destroyed Napoleon's army, is impossible.
+
+After the French victory at Borodino there was no general engagement nor
+any that were at all serious, yet the French army ceased to exist. What
+does this mean? If it were an example taken from the history of China,
+we might say that it was not an historic phenomenon (which is the
+historians' usual expedient when anything does not fit their standards);
+if the matter concerned some brief conflict in which only a small number
+of troops took part, we might treat it as an exception; but this event
+occurred before our fathers' eyes, and for them it was a question of the
+life or death of their fatherland, and it happened in the greatest of
+all known wars.
+
+The period of the campaign of 1812 from the battle of Borodino to the
+expulsion of the French proved that the winning of a battle does not
+produce a conquest and is not even an invariable indication of conquest;
+it proved that the force which decides the fate of peoples lies not in
+the conquerors, nor even in armies and battles, but in something else.
+
+The French historians, describing the condition of the French army
+before it left Moscow, affirm that all was in order in the Grand Army,
+except the cavalry, the artillery, and the transport--there was no
+forage for the horses or the cattle. That was a misfortune no one could
+remedy, for the peasants of the district burned their hay rather than
+let the French have it.
+
+The victory gained did not bring the usual results because the peasants
+Karp and Vlas (who after the French had evacuated Moscow drove in their
+carts to pillage the town, and in general personally failed to manifest
+any heroic feelings), and the whole innumerable multitude of such
+peasants, did not bring their hay to Moscow for the high price offered
+them, but burned it instead.
+
+Let us imagine two men who have come out to fight a duel with rapiers
+according to all the rules of the art of fencing. The fencing has gone
+on for some time; suddenly one of the combatants, feeling himself
+wounded and understanding that the matter is no joke but concerns his
+life, throws down his rapier, and seizing the first cudgel that comes to
+hand begins to brandish it. Then let us imagine that the combatant who
+so sensibly employed the best and simplest means to attain his end was
+at the same time influenced by traditions of chivalry and, desiring to
+conceal the facts of the case, insisted that he had gained his victory
+with the rapier according to all the rules of art. One can imagine what
+confusion and obscurity would result from such an account of the duel.
+
+The fencer who demanded a contest according to the rules of fencing was
+the French army; his opponent who threw away the rapier and snatched up
+the cudgel was the Russian people; those who try to explain the matter
+according to the rules of fencing are the historians who have described
+the event.
+
+After the burning of Smolensk a war began which did not follow any
+previous traditions of war. The burning of towns and villages, the
+retreats after battles, the blow dealt at Borodino and the renewed
+retreat, the burning of Moscow, the capture of marauders, the seizure of
+transports, and the guerrilla war were all departures from the rules.
+
+Napoleon felt this, and from the time he took up the correct fencing
+attitude in Moscow and instead of his opponent's rapier saw a cudgel
+raised above his head, he did not cease to complain to Kutuzov and to
+the Emperor Alexander that the war was being carried on contrary to all
+the rules--as if there were any rules for killing people. In spite of
+the complaints of the French as to the nonobservance of the rules, in
+spite of the fact that to some highly placed Russians it seemed rather
+disgraceful to fight with a cudgel and they wanted to assume a pose en
+quarte or en tierce according to all the rules, and to make an adroit
+thrust en prime, and so on--the cudgel of the people's war was lifted
+with all its menacing and majestic strength, and without consulting
+anyone's tastes or rules and regardless of anything else, it rose and
+fell with stupid simplicity, but consistently, and belabored the French
+till the whole invasion had perished.
+
+And it is well for a people who do not--as the French did in 1813--
+salute according to all the rules of art, and, presenting the hilt of
+their rapier gracefully and politely, hand it to their magnanimous
+conqueror, but at the moment of trial, without asking what rules others
+have adopted in similar cases, simply and easily pick up the first
+cudgel that comes to hand and strike with it till the feeling of
+resentment and revenge in their soul yields to a feeling of contempt and
+compassion.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+One of the most obvious and advantageous departures from the so-called
+laws of war is the action of scattered groups against men pressed
+together in a mass. Such action always occurs in wars that take on a
+national character. In such actions, instead of two crowds opposing each
+other, the men disperse, attack singly, run away when attacked by
+stronger forces, but again attack when opportunity offers. This was done
+by the guerrillas in Spain, by the mountain tribes in the Caucasus, and
+by the Russians in 1812.
+
+People have called this kind of war "guerrilla warfare" and assume that
+by so calling it they have explained its meaning. But such a war does
+not fit in under any rule and is directly opposed to a well-known rule
+of tactics which is accepted as infallible. That rule says that an
+attacker should concentrate his forces in order to be stronger than his
+opponent at the moment of conflict.
+
+Guerrilla war (always successful, as history shows) directly infringes
+that rule.
+
+This contradiction arises from the fact that military science assumes
+the strength of an army to be identical with its numbers. Military
+science says that the more troops the greater the strength. Les gros
+bataillons ont toujours raison. *
+
+
+* Large battalions are always victorious.
+
+For military science to say this is like defining momentum in mechanics
+by reference to the mass only: stating that momenta are equal or unequal
+to each other simply because the masses involved are equal or unequal.
+
+Momentum (quantity of motion) is the product of mass and velocity.
+
+In military affairs the strength of an army is the product of its mass
+and some unknown x.
+
+Military science, seeing in history innumerable instances of the fact
+that the size of any army does not coincide with its strength and that
+small detachments defeat larger ones, obscurely admits the existence of
+this unknown factor and tries to discover it--now in a geometric
+formation, now in the equipment employed, now, and most usually, in the
+genius of the commanders. But the assignment of these various meanings
+to the factor does not yield results which accord with the historic
+facts.
+
+Yet it is only necessary to abandon the false view (adopted to gratify
+the "heroes") of the efficacy of the directions issued in wartime by
+commanders, in order to find this unknown quantity.
+
+That unknown quantity is the spirit of the army, that is to say, the
+greater or lesser readiness to fight and face danger felt by all the men
+composing an army, quite independently of whether they are, or are not,
+fighting under the command of a genius, in two--or three-line formation,
+with cudgels or with rifles that repeat thirty times a minute. Men who
+want to fight will always put themselves in the most advantageous
+conditions for fighting.
+
+The spirit of an army is the factor which multiplied by the mass gives
+the resulting force. To define and express the significance of this
+unknown factor--the spirit of an army--is a problem for science.
+
+This problem is only solvable if we cease arbitrarily to substitute for
+the unknown x itself the conditions under which that force becomes
+apparent--such as the commands of the general, the equipment employed,
+and so on--mistaking these for the real significance of the factor, and
+if we recognize this unknown quantity in its entirety as being the
+greater or lesser desire to fight and to face danger. Only then,
+expressing known historic facts by equations and comparing the relative
+significance of this factor, can we hope to define the unknown.
+
+Ten men, battalions, or divisions, fighting fifteen men, battalions, or
+divisions, conquer--that is, kill or take captive--all the others, while
+themselves losing four, so that on the one side four and on the other
+fifteen were lost. Consequently the four were equal to the fifteen, and
+therefore 4x = 15y. Consequently x/y = 15/4. This equation does not give
+us the value of the unknown factor but gives us a ratio between two
+unknowns. And by bringing variously selected historic units (battles,
+campaigns, periods of war) into such equations, a series of numbers
+could be obtained in which certain laws should exist and might be
+discovered.
+
+The tactical rule that an army should act in masses when attacking, and
+in smaller groups in retreat, unconsciously confirms the truth that the
+strength of an army depends on its spirit. To lead men forward under
+fire more discipline (obtainable only by movement in masses) is needed
+than is needed to resist attacks. But this rule which leaves out of
+account the spirit of the army continually proves incorrect and is in
+particularly striking contrast to the facts when some strong rise or
+fall in the spirit of the troops occurs, as in all national wars.
+
+The French, retreating in 1812--though according to tactics they should
+have separated into detachments to defend themselves--congregated into a
+mass because the spirit of the army had so fallen that only the mass
+held the army together. The Russians, on the contrary, ought according
+to tactics to have attacked in mass, but in fact they split up into
+small units, because their spirit had so risen that separate
+individuals, without orders, dealt blows at the French without needing
+any compulsion to induce them to expose themselves to hardships and
+dangers.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+The so-called partisan war began with the entry of the French into
+Smolensk.
+
+Before partisan warfare had been officially recognized by the
+government, thousands of enemy stragglers, marauders, and foragers had
+been destroyed by the Cossacks and the peasants, who killed them off as
+instinctively as dogs worry a stray mad dog to death. Denis Davydov,
+with his Russian instinct, was the first to recognize the value of this
+terrible cudgel which regardless of the rules of military science
+destroyed the French, and to him belongs the credit for taking the first
+step toward regularizing this method of warfare.
+
+On August 24 Davydov's first partisan detachment was formed and then
+others were recognized. The further the campaign progressed the more
+numerous these detachments became.
+
+The irregulars destroyed the great army piecemeal. They gathered the
+fallen leaves that dropped of themselves from that withered tree--the
+French army--and sometimes shook that tree itself. By October, when the
+French were fleeing toward Smolensk, there were hundreds of such
+companies, of various sizes and characters. There were some that adopted
+all the army methods and had infantry, artillery, staffs, and the
+comforts of life. Others consisted solely of Cossack cavalry. There were
+also small scratch groups of foot and horse, and groups of peasants and
+landowners that remained unknown. A sacristan commanded one party which
+captured several hundred prisoners in the course of a month; and there
+was Vasilisa, the wife of a village elder, who slew hundreds of the
+French.
+
+The partisan warfare flamed up most fiercely in the latter days of
+October. Its first period had passed: when the partisans themselves,
+amazed at their own boldness, feared every minute to be surrounded and
+captured by the French, and hid in the forests without unsaddling,
+hardly daring to dismount and always expecting to be pursued. By the end
+of October this kind of warfare had taken definite shape: it had become
+clear to all what could be ventured against the French and what could
+not. Now only the commanders of detachments with staffs, and moving
+according to rules at a distance from the French, still regarded many
+things as impossible. The small bands that had started their activities
+long before and had already observed the French closely considered
+things possible which the commanders of the big detachments did not dare
+to contemplate. The Cossacks and peasants who crept in among the French
+now considered everything possible.
+
+On October 22, Denisov (who was one of the irregulars) was with his
+group at the height of the guerrilla enthusiasm. Since early morning he
+and his party had been on the move. All day long he had been watching
+from the forest that skirted the highroad a large French convoy of
+cavalry baggage and Russian prisoners separated from the rest of the
+army, which--as was learned from spies and prisoners--was moving under a
+strong escort to Smolensk. Besides Denisov and Dolokhov (who also led a
+small party and moved in Denisov's vicinity), the commanders of some
+large divisions with staffs also knew of this convoy and, as Denisov
+expressed it, were sharpening their teeth for it. Two of the commanders
+of large parties--one a Pole and the other a German--sent invitations to
+Denisov almost simultaneously, requesting him to join up with their
+divisions to attack the convoy.
+
+"No, bwother, I have gwown mustaches myself," said Denisov on reading
+these documents, and he wrote to the German that, despite his heartfelt
+desire to serve under so valiant and renowned a general, he had to forgo
+that pleasure because he was already under the command of the Polish
+general. To the Polish general he replied to the same effect, informing
+him that he was already under the command of the German.
+
+Having arranged matters thus, Denisov and Dolokhov intended, without
+reporting matters to the higher command, to attack and seize that convoy
+with their own small forces. On October 22 it was moving from the
+village of Mikulino to that of Shamshevo. To the left of the road
+between Mikulino and Shamshevo there were large forests, extending in
+some places up to the road itself though in others a mile or more back
+from it. Through these forests Denisov and his party rode all day,
+sometimes keeping well back in them and sometimes coming to the very
+edge, but never losing sight of the moving French. That morning,
+Cossacks of Denisov's party had seized and carried off into the forest
+two wagons loaded with cavalry saddles, which had stuck in the mud not
+far from Mikulino where the forest ran close to the road. Since then,
+and until evening, the party had watched the movements of the French
+without attacking. It was necessary to let the French reach Shamshevo
+quietly without alarming them and then, after joining Dolokhov who was
+to come that evening to a consultation at a watchman's hut in the forest
+less than a mile from Shamshevo, to surprise the French at dawn, falling
+like an avalanche on their heads from two sides, and rout and capture
+them all at one blow.
+
+In their rear, more than a mile from Mikulino where the forest came
+right up to the road, six Cossacks were posted to report if any fresh
+columns of French should show themselves.
+
+Beyond Shamshevo, Dolokhov was to observe the road in the same way, to
+find out at what distance there were other French troops. They reckoned
+that the convoy had fifteen hundred men. Denisov had two hundred, and
+Dolokhov might have as many more, but the disparity of numbers did not
+deter Denisov. All that he now wanted to know was what troops these were
+and to learn that he had to capture a "tongue"--that is, a man from the
+enemy column. That morning's attack on the wagons had been made so
+hastily that the Frenchmen with the wagons had all been killed; only a
+little drummer boy had been taken alive, and as he was a straggler he
+could tell them nothing definite about the troops in that column.
+
+Denisov considered it dangerous to make a second attack for fear of
+putting the whole column on the alert, so he sent Tikhon Shcherbaty, a
+peasant of his party, to Shamshevo to try and seize at least one of the
+French quartermasters who had been sent on in advance.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+It was a warm rainy autumn day. The sky and the horizon were both the
+color of muddy water. At times a sort of mist descended, and then
+suddenly heavy slanting rain came down.
+
+Denisov in a felt cloak and a sheepskin cap from which the rain ran down
+was riding a thin thoroughbred horse with sunken sides. Like his horse,
+which turned its head and laid its ears back, he shrank from the driving
+rain and gazed anxiously before him. His thin face with its short, thick
+black beard looked angry.
+
+Beside Denisov rode an esaul, * Denisov's fellow worker, also in felt
+cloak and sheepskin cap, and riding a large sleek Don horse.
+
+
+* A captain of Cossacks.
+
+Esaul Lovayski the Third was a tall man as straight as an arrow, pale-
+faced, fair-haired, with narrow light eyes and with calm self-
+satisfaction in his face and bearing. Though it was impossible to say in
+what the peculiarity of the horse and rider lay, yet at first glance at
+the esaul and Denisov one saw that the latter was wet and uncomfortable
+and was a man mounted on a horse, while looking at the esaul one saw
+that he was as comfortable and as much at ease as always and that he was
+not a man who had mounted a horse, but a man who was one with his horse,
+a being consequently possessed of twofold strength.
+
+A little ahead of them walked a peasant guide, wet to the skin and
+wearing a gray peasant coat and a white knitted cap.
+
+A little behind, on a poor, small, lean Kirghiz mount with an enormous
+tail and mane and a bleeding mouth, rode a young officer in a blue
+French overcoat.
+
+Beside him rode an hussar, with a boy in a tattered French uniform and
+blue cap behind him on the crupper of his horse. The boy held on to the
+hussar with cold, red hands, and raising his eyebrows gazed about him
+with surprise. This was the French drummer boy captured that morning.
+
+Behind them along the narrow, sodden, cutup forest road came hussars in
+threes and fours, and then Cossacks: some in felt cloaks, some in French
+greatcoats, and some with horsecloths over their heads. The horses,
+being drenched by the rain, all looked black whether chestnut or bay.
+Their necks, with their wet, close-clinging manes, looked strangely
+thin. Steam rose from them. Clothes, saddles, reins, were all wet,
+slippery, and sodden, like the ground and the fallen leaves that strewed
+the road. The men sat huddled up trying not to stir, so as to warm the
+water that had trickled to their bodies and not admit the fresh cold
+water that was leaking in under their seats, their knees, and at the
+back of their necks. In the midst of the outspread line of Cossacks two
+wagons, drawn by French horses and by saddled Cossack horses that had
+been hitched on in front, rumbled over the tree stumps and branches and
+splashed through the water that lay in the ruts.
+
+Denisov's horse swerved aside to avoid a pool in the track and bumped
+his rider's knee against a tree.
+
+"Oh, the devil!" exclaimed Denisov angrily, and showing his teeth he
+struck his horse three times with his whip, splashing himself and his
+comrades with mud.
+
+Denisov was out of sorts both because of the rain and also from hunger
+(none of them had eaten anything since morning), and yet more because he
+still had no news from Dolokhov and the man sent to capture a "tongue"
+had not returned.
+
+"There'll hardly be another such chance to fall on a transport as today.
+It's too risky to attack them by oneself, and if we put it off till
+another day one of the big guerrilla detachments will snatch the prey
+from under our noses," thought Denisov, continually peering forward,
+hoping to see a messenger from Dolokhov.
+
+On coming to a path in the forest along which he could see far to the
+right, Denisov stopped.
+
+"There's someone coming," said he.
+
+The esaul looked in the direction Denisov indicated.
+
+"There are two, an officer and a Cossack. But it is not presupposable
+that it is the lieutenant colonel himself," said the esaul, who was fond
+of using words the Cossacks did not know.
+
+The approaching riders having descended a decline were no longer
+visible, but they reappeared a few minutes later. In front, at a weary
+gallop and using his leather whip, rode an officer, disheveled and
+drenched, whose trousers had worked up to above his knees. Behind him,
+standing in the stirrups, trotted a Cossack. The officer, a very young
+lad with a broad rosy face and keen merry eyes, galloped up to Denisov
+and handed him a sodden envelope.
+
+"From the general," said the officer. "Please excuse its not being quite
+dry."
+
+Denisov, frowning, took the envelope and opened it.
+
+"There, they kept telling us: 'It's dangerous, it's dangerous,'" said
+the officer, addressing the esaul while Denisov was reading the
+dispatch. "But Komarov and I"--he pointed to the Cossack--"were
+prepared. We have each of us two pistols.... But what's this?" he asked,
+noticing the French drummer boy. "A prisoner? You've already been in
+action? May I speak to him?"
+
+"Wostov! Petya!" exclaimed Denisov, having run through the dispatch.
+"Why didn't you say who you were?" and turning with a smile he held out
+his hand to the lad.
+
+The officer was Petya Rostov.
+
+All the way Petya had been preparing himself to behave with Denisov as
+befitted a grownup man and an officer--without hinting at their previous
+acquaintance. But as soon as Denisov smiled at him Petya brightened up,
+blushed with pleasure, forgot the official manner he had been
+rehearsing, and began telling him how he had already been in a battle
+near Vyazma and how a certain hussar had distinguished himself there.
+
+"Well, I am glad to see you," Denisov interrupted him, and his face
+again assumed its anxious expression.
+
+"Michael Feoklitych," said he to the esaul, "this is again fwom that
+German, you know. He"--he indicated Petya--"is serving under him."
+
+And Denisov told the esaul that the dispatch just delivered was a
+repetition of the German general's demand that he should join forces
+with him for an attack on the transport.
+
+"If we don't take it tomowwow, he'll snatch it fwom under our noses," he
+added.
+
+While Denisov was talking to the esaul, Petya--abashed by Denisov's cold
+tone and supposing that it was due to the condition of his trousers--
+furtively tried to pull them down under his greatcoat so that no one
+should notice it, while maintaining as martial an air as possible.
+
+"Will there be any orders, your honor?" he asked Denisov, holding his
+hand at the salute and resuming the game of adjutant and general for
+which he had prepared himself, "or shall I remain with your honor?"
+
+"Orders?" Denisov repeated thoughtfully. "But can you stay till
+tomowwow?"
+
+"Oh, please... May I stay with you?" cried Petya.
+
+"But, just what did the genewal tell you? To weturn at once?" asked
+Denisov.
+
+Petya blushed.
+
+"He gave me no instructions. I think I could?" he returned, inquiringly.
+
+"Well, all wight," said Denisov.
+
+And turning to his men he directed a party to go on to the halting place
+arranged near the watchman's hut in the forest, and told the officer on
+the Kirghiz horse (who performed the duties of an adjutant) to go and
+find out where Dolokhov was and whether he would come that evening.
+Denisov himself intended going with the esaul and Petya to the edge of
+the forest where it reached out to Shamshevo, to have a look at the part
+of the French bivouac they were to attack next day.
+
+"Well, old fellow," said he to the peasant guide, "lead us to
+Shamshevo."
+
+Denisov, Petya, and the esaul, accompanied by some Cossacks and the
+hussar who had the prisoner, rode to the left across a ravine to the
+edge of the forest.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+The rain had stopped, and only the mist was falling and drops from the
+trees. Denisov, the esaul, and Petya rode silently, following the
+peasant in the knitted cap who, stepping lightly with outturned toes and
+moving noiselessly in his bast shoes over the roots and wet leaves,
+silently led them to the edge of the forest.
+
+He ascended an incline, stopped, looked about him, and advanced to where
+the screen of trees was less dense. On reaching a large oak tree that
+had not yet shed its leaves, he stopped and beckoned mysteriously to
+them with his hand.
+
+Denisov and Petya rode up to him. From the spot where the peasant was
+standing they could see the French. Immediately beyond the forest, on a
+downward slope, lay a field of spring rye. To the right, beyond a steep
+ravine, was a small village and a landowner's house with a broken roof.
+In the village, in the house, in the garden, by the well, by the pond,
+over all the rising ground, and all along the road uphill from the
+bridge leading to the village, not more than five hundred yards away,
+crowds of men could be seen through the shimmering mist. Their un-
+Russian shouting at their horses which were straining uphill with the
+carts, and their calls to one another, could be clearly heard.
+
+"Bwing the prisoner here," said Denisov in a low voice, not taking his
+eyes off the French.
+
+A Cossack dismounted, lifted the boy down, and took him to Denisov.
+Pointing to the French troops, Denisov asked him what these and those of
+them were. The boy, thrusting his cold hands into his pockets and
+lifting his eyebrows, looked at Denisov in affright, but in spite of an
+evident desire to say all he knew gave confused answers, merely
+assenting to everything Denisov asked him. Denisov turned away from him
+frowning and addressed the esaul, conveying his own conjectures to him.
+
+Petya, rapidly turning his head, looked now at the drummer boy, now at
+Denisov, now at the esaul, and now at the French in the village and
+along the road, trying not to miss anything of importance.
+
+"Whether Dolokhov comes or not, we must seize it, eh?" said Denisov with
+a merry sparkle in his eyes.
+
+"It is a very suitable spot," said the esaul.
+
+"We'll send the infantwy down by the swamps," Denisov continued.
+"They'll cweep up to the garden; you'll wide up fwom there with the
+Cossacks"--he pointed to a spot in the forest beyond the village--"and I
+with my hussars fwom here. And at the signal shot..."
+
+"The hollow is impassable--there's a swamp there," said the esaul. "The
+horses would sink. We must ride round more to the left...."
+
+While they were talking in undertones the crack of a shot sounded from
+the low ground by the pond, a puff of white smoke appeared, then
+another, and the sound of hundreds of seemingly merry French voices
+shouting together came up from the slope. For a moment Denisov and the
+esaul drew back. They were so near that they thought they were the cause
+of the firing and shouting. But the firing and shouting did not relate
+to them. Down below, a man wearing something red was running through the
+marsh. The French were evidently firing and shouting at him.
+
+"Why, that's our Tikhon," said the esaul.
+
+"So it is! It is!"
+
+"The wascal!" said Denisov.
+
+"He'll get away!" said the esaul, screwing up his eyes.
+
+The man whom they called Tikhon, having run to the stream, plunged in so
+that the water splashed in the air, and, having disappeared for an
+instant, scrambled out on all fours, all black with the wet, and ran on.
+The French who had been pursuing him stopped.
+
+"Smart, that!" said the esaul.
+
+"What a beast!" said Denisov with his former look of vexation. "What has
+he been doing all this time?"
+
+"Who is he?" asked Petya.
+
+"He's our plastun. I sent him to capture a 'tongue.'"
+
+"Oh, yes," said Petya, nodding at the first words Denisov uttered as if
+he understood it all, though he really did not understand anything of
+it.
+
+Tikhon Shcherbaty was one of the most indispensable men in their band.
+He was a peasant from Pokrovsk, near the river Gzhat. When Denisov had
+come to Pokrovsk at the beginning of his operations and had as usual
+summoned the village elder and asked him what he knew about the French,
+the elder, as though shielding himself, had replied, as all village
+elders did, that he had neither seen nor heard anything of them. But
+when Denisov explained that his purpose was to kill the French, and
+asked if no French had strayed that way, the elder replied that some
+"more-orderers" had really been at their village, but that Tikhon
+Shcherbaty was the only man who dealt with such matters. Denisov had
+Tikhon called and, having praised him for his activity, said a few words
+in the elder's presence about loyalty to the Tsar and the country and
+the hatred of the French that all sons of the fatherland should cherish.
+
+"We don't do the French any harm," said Tikhon, evidently frightened by
+Denisov's words. "We only fooled about with the lads for fun, you know!
+We killed a score or so of 'more-orderers,' but we did no harm else..."
+
+Next day when Denisov had left Pokrovsk, having quite forgotten about
+this peasant, it was reported to him that Tikhon had attached himself to
+their party and asked to be allowed to remain with it. Denisov gave
+orders to let him do so.
+
+Tikhon, who at first did rough work, laying campfires, fetching water,
+flaying dead horses, and so on, soon showed a great liking and aptitude
+for partisan warfare. At night he would go out for booty and always
+brought back French clothing and weapons, and when told to would bring
+in French captives also. Denisov then relieved him from drudgery and
+began taking him with him when he went out on expeditions and had him
+enrolled among the Cossacks.
+
+Tikhon did not like riding, and always went on foot, never lagging
+behind the cavalry. He was armed with a musketoon (which he carried
+rather as a joke), a pike and an ax, which latter he used as a wolf uses
+its teeth, with equal ease picking fleas out of its fur or crunching
+thick bones. Tikhon with equal accuracy would split logs with blows at
+arm's length, or holding the head of the ax would cut thin little pegs
+or carve spoons. In Denisov's party he held a peculiar and exceptional
+position. When anything particularly difficult or nasty had to be done--
+to push a cart out of the mud with one's shoulders, pull a horse out of
+a swamp by its tail, skin it, slink in among the French, or walk more
+than thirty miles in a day--everybody pointed laughingly at Tikhon.
+
+"It won't hurt that devil--he's as strong as a horse!" they said of him.
+
+Once a Frenchman Tikhon was trying to capture fired a pistol at him and
+shot him in the fleshy part of the back. That wound (which Tikhon
+treated only with internal and external applications of vodka) was the
+subject of the liveliest jokes by the whole detachment--jokes in which
+Tikhon readily joined.
+
+"Hallo, mate! Never again? Gave you a twist?" the Cossacks would banter
+him. And Tikhon, purposely writhing and making faces, pretended to be
+angry and swore at the French with the funniest curses. The only effect
+of this incident on Tikhon was that after being wounded he seldom
+brought in prisoners.
+
+He was the bravest and most useful man in the party. No one found more
+opportunities for attacking, no one captured or killed more Frenchmen,
+and consequently he was made the buffoon of all the Cossacks and hussars
+and willingly accepted that role. Now he had been sent by Denisov
+overnight to Shamshevo to capture a "tongue." But whether because he had
+not been content to take only one Frenchman or because he had slept
+through the night, he had crept by day into some bushes right among the
+French and, as Denisov had witnessed from above, had been detected by
+them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+After talking for some time with the esaul about next day's attack,
+which now, seeing how near they were to the French, he seemed to have
+definitely decided on, Denisov turned his horse and rode back.
+
+"Now, my lad, we'll go and get dwy," he said to Petya.
+
+As they approached the watchhouse Denisov stopped, peering into the
+forest. Among the trees a man with long legs and long, swinging arms,
+wearing a short jacket, bast shoes, and a Kazan hat, was approaching
+with long, light steps. He had a musketoon over his shoulder and an ax
+stuck in his girdle. When he espied Denisov he hastily threw something
+into the bushes, removed his sodden hat by its floppy brim, and
+approached his commander. It was Tikhon. His wrinkled and pockmarked
+face and narrow little eyes beamed with self-satisfied merriment. He
+lifted his head high and gazed at Denisov as if repressing a laugh.
+
+"Well, where did you disappear to?" inquired Denisov.
+
+"Where did I disappear to? I went to get Frenchmen," answered Tikhon
+boldly and hurriedly, in a husky but melodious bass voice.
+
+"Why did you push yourself in there by daylight? You ass! Well, why
+haven't you taken one?"
+
+"Oh, I took one all right," said Tikhon.
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"You see, I took him first thing at dawn," Tikhon continued, spreading
+out his flat feet with outturned toes in their bast shoes. "I took him
+into the forest. Then I see he's no good and think I'll go and fetch a
+likelier one."
+
+"You see?... What a wogue--it's just as I thought," said Denisov to the
+esaul. "Why didn't you bwing that one?"
+
+"What was the good of bringing him?" Tikhon interrupted hastily and
+angrily--"that one wouldn't have done for you. As if I don't know what
+sort you want!"
+
+"What a bwute you are!... Well?"
+
+"I went for another one," Tikhon continued, "and I crept like this
+through the wood and lay down." (He suddenly lay down on his stomach
+with a supple movement to show how he had done it.) "One turned up and I
+grabbed him, like this." (He jumped up quickly and lightly.) "'Come
+along to the colonel,' I said. He starts yelling, and suddenly there
+were four of them. They rushed at me with their little swords. So I went
+for them with my ax, this way: 'What are you up to?' says I. 'Christ be
+with you!'" shouted Tikhon, waving his arms with an angry scowl and
+throwing out his chest.
+
+"Yes, we saw from the hill how you took to your heels through the
+puddles!" said the esaul, screwing up his glittering eyes.
+
+Petya badly wanted to laugh, but noticed that they all refrained from
+laughing. He turned his eyes rapidly from Tikhon's face to the esaul's
+and Denisov's, unable to make out what it all meant.
+
+"Don't play the fool!" said Denisov, coughing angrily. "Why didn't you
+bwing the first one?"
+
+Tikhon scratched his back with one hand and his head with the other,
+then suddenly his whole face expanded into a beaming, foolish grin,
+disclosing a gap where he had lost a tooth (that was why he was called
+Shcherbaty--the gap-toothed). Denisov smiled, and Petya burst into a
+peal of merry laughter in which Tikhon himself joined.
+
+"Oh, but he was a regular good-for-nothing," said Tikhon. "The clothes
+on him--poor stuff! How could I bring him? And so rude, your honor! Why,
+he says: 'I'm a general's son myself, I won't go!' he says."
+
+"You are a bwute!" said Denisov. "I wanted to question..."
+
+"But I questioned him," said Tikhon. "He said he didn't know much.
+'There are a lot of us,' he says, 'but all poor stuff--only soldiers in
+name,' he says. 'Shout loud at them,' he says, 'and you'll take them
+all,'" Tikhon concluded, looking cheerfully and resolutely into
+Denisov's eyes.
+
+"I'll give you a hundwed sharp lashes--that'll teach you to play the
+fool!" said Denisov severely.
+
+"But why are you angry?" remonstrated Tikhon, "just as if I'd never seen
+your Frenchmen! Only wait till it gets dark and I'll fetch you any of
+them you want--three if you like."
+
+"Well, let's go," said Denisov, and rode all the way to the watchhouse
+in silence and frowning angrily.
+
+Tikhon followed behind and Petya heard the Cossacks laughing with him
+and at him, about some pair of boots he had thrown into the bushes.
+
+When the fit of laughter that had seized him at Tikhon's words and smile
+had passed and Petya realized for a moment that this Tikhon had killed a
+man, he felt uneasy. He looked round at the captive drummer boy and felt
+a pang in his heart. But this uneasiness lasted only a moment. He felt
+it necessary to hold his head higher, to brace himself, and to question
+the esaul with an air of importance about tomorrow's undertaking, that
+he might not be unworthy of the company in which he found himself.
+
+The officer who had been sent to inquire met Denisov on the way with the
+news that Dolokhov was soon coming and that all was well with him.
+
+Denisov at once cheered up and, calling Petya to him, said: "Well, tell
+me about yourself."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+Petya, having left his people after their departure from Moscow, joined
+his regiment and was soon taken as orderly by a general commanding a
+large guerrilla detachment. From the time he received his commission,
+and especially since he had joined the active army and taken part in the
+battle of Vyazma, Petya had been in a constant state of blissful
+excitement at being grown-up and in a perpetual ecstatic hurry not to
+miss any chance to do something really heroic. He was highly delighted
+with what he saw and experienced in the army, but at the same time it
+always seemed to him that the really heroic exploits were being
+performed just where he did not happen to be. And he was always in a
+hurry to get where he was not.
+
+When on the twenty-first of October his general expressed a wish to send
+somebody to Denisov's detachment, Petya begged so piteously to be sent
+that the general could not refuse. But when dispatching him he recalled
+Petya's mad action at the battle of Vyazma, where instead of riding by
+the road to the place to which he had been sent, he had galloped to the
+advanced line under the fire of the French and had there twice fired his
+pistol. So now the general explicitly forbade his taking part in any
+action whatever of Denisov's. That was why Petya had blushed and grown
+confused when Denisov asked him whether he could stay. Before they had
+ridden to the outskirts of the forest Petya had considered he must carry
+out his instructions strictly and return at once. But when he saw the
+French and saw Tikhon and learned that there would certainly be an
+attack that night, he decided, with the rapidity with which young people
+change their views, that the general, whom he had greatly respected till
+then, was a rubbishy German, that Denisov was a hero, the esaul a hero,
+and Tikhon a hero too, and that it would be shameful for him to leave
+them at a moment of difficulty.
+
+It was already growing dusk when Denisov, Petya, and the esaul rode up
+to the watchhouse. In the twilight saddled horses could be seen, and
+Cossacks and hussars who had rigged up rough shelters in the glade and
+were kindling glowing fires in a hollow of the forest where the French
+could not see the smoke. In the passage of the small watchhouse a
+Cossack with sleeves rolled up was chopping some mutton. In the room
+three officers of Denisov's band were converting a door into a tabletop.
+Petya took off his wet clothes, gave them to be dried, and at once began
+helping the officers to fix up the dinner table.
+
+In ten minutes the table was ready and a napkin spread on it. On the
+table were vodka, a flask of rum, white bread, roast mutton, and salt.
+
+Sitting at table with the officers and tearing the fat savory mutton
+with his hands, down which the grease trickled, Petya was in an ecstatic
+childish state of love for all men, and consequently of confidence that
+others loved him in the same way.
+
+"So then what do you think, Vasili Dmitrich?" said he to Denisov. "It's
+all right my staying a day with you?" And not waiting for a reply he
+answered his own question: "You see I was told to find out--well, I am
+finding out.... Only do let me into the very... into the chief... I
+don't want a reward... But I want..."
+
+Petya clenched his teeth and looked around, throwing back his head and
+flourishing his arms.
+
+"Into the vewy chief..." Denisov repeated with a smile.
+
+"Only, please let me command something, so that I may really command..."
+Petya went on. "What would it be to you?... Oh, you want a knife?" he
+said, turning to an officer who wished to cut himself a piece of mutton.
+
+And he handed him his clasp knife. The officer admired it.
+
+"Please keep it. I have several like it," said Petya, blushing.
+"Heavens! I was quite forgetting!" he suddenly cried. "I have some
+raisins, fine ones; you know, seedless ones. We have a new sutler and he
+has such capital things. I bought ten pounds. I am used to something
+sweet. Would you like some?..." and Petya ran out into the passage to
+his Cossack and brought back some bags which contained about five pounds
+of raisins. "Have some, gentlemen, have some!"
+
+"You want a coffeepot, don't you?" he asked the esaul. "I bought a
+capital one from our sutler! He has splendid things. And he's very
+honest, that's the chief thing. I'll be sure to send it to you. Or
+perhaps your flints are giving out, or are worn out--that happens
+sometimes, you know. I have brought some with me, here they are"--and he
+showed a bag--"a hundred flints. I bought them very cheap. Please take
+as many as you want, or all if you like...."
+
+Then suddenly, dismayed lest he had said too much, Petya stopped and
+blushed.
+
+He tried to remember whether he had not done anything else that was
+foolish. And running over the events of the day he remembered the French
+drummer boy. "It's capital for us here, but what of him? Where have they
+put him? Have they fed him? Haven't they hurt his feelings?" he thought.
+But having caught himself saying too much about the flints, he was now
+afraid to speak out.
+
+"I might ask," he thought, "but they'll say: 'He's a boy himself and so
+he pities the boy.' I'll show them tomorrow whether I'm a boy. Will it
+seem odd if I ask?" Petya thought. "Well, never mind!" and immediately,
+blushing and looking anxiously at the officers to see if they appeared
+ironical, he said:
+
+"May I call in that boy who was taken prisoner and give him something to
+eat?... Perhaps..."
+
+"Yes, he's a poor little fellow," said Denisov, who evidently saw
+nothing shameful in this reminder. "Call him in. His name is Vincent
+Bosse. Have him fetched."
+
+"I'll call him," said Petya.
+
+"Yes, yes, call him. A poor little fellow," Denisov repeated.
+
+Petya was standing at the door when Denisov said this. He slipped in
+between the officers, came close to Denisov, and said:
+
+"Let me kiss you, dear old fellow! Oh, how fine, how splendid!"
+
+And having kissed Denisov he ran out of the hut.
+
+"Bosse! Vincent!" Petya cried, stopping outside the door.
+
+"Who do you want, sir?" asked a voice in the darkness.
+
+Petya replied that he wanted the French lad who had been captured that
+day.
+
+"Ah, Vesenny?" said a Cossack.
+
+Vincent, the boy's name, had already been changed by the Cossacks into
+Vesenny (vernal) and into Vesenya by the peasants and soldiers. In both
+these adaptations the reference to spring (vesna) matched the impression
+made by the young lad.
+
+"He is warming himself there by the bonfire. Ho, Vesenya! Vesenya!--
+Vesenny!" laughing voices were heard calling to one another in the
+darkness.
+
+"He's a smart lad," said an hussar standing near Petya. "We gave him
+something to eat a while ago. He was awfully hungry!"
+
+The sound of bare feet splashing through the mud was heard in the
+darkness, and the drummer boy came to the door.
+
+"Ah, c'est vous!" said Petya. "Voulez-vous manger? N'ayez pas peur, on
+ne vous fera pas de mal," * he added shyly and affectionately, touching
+the boy's hand. "Entrez, entrez." *(2)
+
+
+* "Ah, it's you! Do you want something to eat? Don't be afraid, they
+won't hurt you."
+
+* (2) "Come in, come in."
+
+"Merci, monsieur," * said the drummer boy in a trembling almost childish
+voice, and he began scraping his dirty feet on the threshold.
+
+
+* "Thank you, sir."
+
+There were many things Petya wanted to say to the drummer boy, but did
+not dare to. He stood irresolutely beside him in the passage. Then in
+the darkness he took the boy's hand and pressed it.
+
+"Come in, come in!" he repeated in a gentle whisper. "Oh, what can I do
+for him?" he thought, and opening the door he let the boy pass in first.
+
+When the boy had entered the hut, Petya sat down at a distance from him,
+considering it beneath his dignity to pay attention to him. But he
+fingered the money in his pocket and wondered whether it would seem
+ridiculous to give some to the drummer boy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+The arrival of Dolokhov diverted Petya's attention from the drummer boy,
+to whom Denisov had had some mutton and vodka given, and whom he had had
+dressed in a Russian coat so that he might be kept with their band and
+not sent away with the other prisoners. Petya had heard in the army many
+stories of Dolokhov's extraordinary bravery and of his cruelty to the
+French, so from the moment he entered the hut Petya did not take his
+eyes from him, but braced himself up more and more and held his head
+high, that he might not be unworthy even of such company.
+
+Dolokhov's appearance amazed Petya by its simplicity.
+
+Denisov wore a Cossack coat, had a beard, had an icon of Nicholas the
+Wonder-Worker on his breast, and his way of speaking and everything he
+did indicated his unusual position. But Dolokhov, who in Moscow had worn
+a Persian costume, had now the appearance of a most correct officer of
+the Guards. He was clean-shaven and wore a Guardsman's padded coat with
+an Order of St. George at his buttonhole and a plain forage cap set
+straight on his head. He took off his wet felt cloak in a corner of the
+room, and without greeting anyone went up to Denisov and began
+questioning him about the matter in hand. Denisov told him of the
+designs the large detachments had on the transport, of the message Petya
+had brought, and his own replies to both generals. Then he told him all
+he knew of the French detachment.
+
+"That's so. But we must know what troops they are and their numbers,"
+said Dolokhov. "It will be necessary to go there. We can't start the
+affair without knowing for certain how many there are. I like to work
+accurately. Here now--wouldn't one of these gentlemen like to ride over
+to the French camp with me? I have brought a spare uniform."
+
+"I, I... I'll go with you!" cried Petya.
+
+"There's no need for you to go at all," said Denisov, addressing
+Dolokhov, "and as for him, I won't let him go on any account."
+
+"I like that!" exclaimed Petya. "Why shouldn't I go?"
+
+"Because it's useless."
+
+"Well, you must excuse me, because... because... I shall go, and that's
+all. You'll take me, won't you?" he said, turning to Dolokhov.
+
+"Why not?" Dolokhov answered absently, scrutinizing the face of the
+French drummer boy. "Have you had that youngster with you long?" he
+asked Denisov.
+
+"He was taken today but he knows nothing. I'm keeping him with me."
+
+"Yes, and where do you put the others?" inquired Dolokhov.
+
+"Where? I send them away and take a weceipt for them," shouted Denisov,
+suddenly flushing. "And I say boldly that I have not a single man's life
+on my conscience. Would it be difficult for you to send thirty or thwee
+hundwed men to town under escort, instead of staining--I speak bluntly--
+staining the honor of a soldier?"
+
+"That kind of amiable talk would be suitable from this young count of
+sixteen," said Dolokhov with cold irony, "but it's time for you to drop
+it."
+
+"Why, I've not said anything! I only say that I'll certainly go with
+you," said Petya shyly.
+
+"But for you and me, old fellow, it's time to drop these amenities,"
+continued Dolokhov, as if he found particular pleasure in speaking of
+this subject which irritated Denisov. "Now, why have you kept this lad?"
+he went on, swaying his head. "Because you are sorry for him! Don't we
+know those 'receipts' of yours? You send a hundred men away, and thirty
+get there. The rest either starve or get killed. So isn't it all the
+same not to send them?"
+
+The esaul, screwing up his light-colored eyes, nodded approvingly.
+
+"That's not the point. I'm not going to discuss the matter. I do not
+wish to take it on my conscience. You say they'll die. All wight. Only
+not by my fault!"
+
+Dolokhov began laughing.
+
+"Who has told them not to capture me these twenty times over? But if
+they did catch me they'd string me up to an aspen tree, and with all
+your chivalry just the same." He paused. "However, we must get to work.
+Tell the Cossack to fetch my kit. I have two French uniforms in it.
+Well, are you coming with me?" he asked Petya.
+
+"I? Yes, yes, certainly!" cried Petya, blushing almost to tears and
+glancing at Denisov.
+
+While Dolokhov had been disputing with Denisov what should be done with
+prisoners, Petya had once more felt awkward and restless; but again he
+had no time to grasp fully what they were talking about. "If grown-up,
+distinguished men think so, it must be necessary and right," thought he.
+"But above all Denisov must not dare to imagine that I'll obey him and
+that he can order me about. I will certainly go to the French camp with
+Dolokhov. If he can, so can I!"
+
+And to all Denisov's persuasions, Petya replied that he too was
+accustomed to do everything accurately and not just anyhow, and that he
+never considered personal danger.
+
+"For you'll admit that if we don't know for sure how many of them there
+are... hundreds of lives may depend on it, while there are only two of
+us. Besides, I want to go very much and certainly will go, so don't
+hinder me," said he. "It will only make things worse..."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+Having put on French greatcoats and shakos, Petya and Dolokhov rode to
+the clearing from which Denisov had reconnoitered the French camp, and
+emerging from the forest in pitch darkness they descended into the
+hollow. On reaching the bottom, Dolokhov told the Cossacks accompanying
+him to await him there and rode on at a quick trot along the road to the
+bridge. Petya, his heart in his mouth with excitement, rode by his side.
+
+"If we're caught, I won't be taken alive! I have a pistol," whispered
+he.
+
+"Don't talk Russian," said Dolokhov in a hurried whisper, and at that
+very moment they heard through the darkness the challenge: "Qui vive?" *
+and the click of a musket.
+
+
+* "Who goes there?"
+
+The blood rushed to Petya's face and he grasped his pistol.
+
+"Lanciers du 6-me," * replied Dolokhov, neither hastening nor slackening
+his horse's pace.
+
+
+* "Lancers of the 6th Regiment."
+
+The black figure of a sentinel stood on the bridge.
+
+"Mot d'ordre." *
+
+
+* "Password."
+
+Dolokhov reined in his horse and advanced at a walk.
+
+"Dites donc, le colonel Gerard est ici?" * he asked.
+
+
+* "Tell me, is Colonel Gerard here?"
+
+"Mot d'ordre," repeated the sentinel, barring the way and not replying.
+
+"Quand un officier fait sa ronde, les sentinelles ne demandent pas le
+mot d'ordre..." cried Dolokhov suddenly flaring up and riding straight
+at the sentinel. "Je vous demande si le colonel est ici." *
+
+
+* "When an officer is making his round, sentinels don't ask him for the
+password.... I am asking you if the colonel is here."
+
+And without waiting for an answer from the sentinel, who had stepped
+aside, Dolokhov rode up the incline at a walk.
+
+Noticing the black outline of a man crossing the road, Dolokhov stopped
+him and inquired where the commander and officers were. The man, a
+soldier with a sack over his shoulder, stopped, came close up to
+Dolokhov's horse, touched it with his hand, and explained simply and in
+a friendly way that the commander and the officers were higher up the
+hill to the right in the courtyard of the farm, as he called the
+landowner's house.
+
+Having ridden up the road, on both sides of which French talk could be
+heard around the campfires, Dolokhov turned into the courtyard of the
+landowner's house. Having ridden in, he dismounted and approached a big
+blazing campfire, around which sat several men talking noisily.
+Something was boiling in a small cauldron at the edge of the fire and a
+soldier in a peaked cap and blue overcoat, lit up by the fire, was
+kneeling beside it stirring its contents with a ramrod.
+
+"Oh, he's a hard nut to crack," said one of the officers who was sitting
+in the shadow at the other side of the fire.
+
+"He'll make them get a move on, those fellows!" said another, laughing.
+
+Both fell silent, peering out through the darkness at the sound of
+Dolokhov's and Petya's steps as they advanced to the fire leading their
+horses.
+
+"Bonjour, messieurs!" * said Dolokhov loudly and clearly.
+
+
+* "Good day, gentlemen."
+
+There was a stir among the officers in the shadow beyond the fire, and
+one tall, long-necked officer, walking round the fire, came up to
+Dolokhov.
+
+"Is that you, Clement?" he asked. "Where the devil...?" But, noticing
+his mistake, he broke off short and, with a frown, greeted Dolokhov as a
+stranger, asking what he could do for him.
+
+Dolokhov said that he and his companion were trying to overtake their
+regiment, and addressing the company in general asked whether they knew
+anything of the 6th Regiment. None of them knew anything, and Petya
+thought the officers were beginning to look at him and Dolokhov with
+hostility and suspicion. For some seconds all were silent.
+
+"If you were counting on the evening soup, you have come too late," said
+a voice from behind the fire with a repressed laugh.
+
+Dolokhov replied that they were not hungry and must push on farther that
+night.
+
+He handed the horses over to the soldier who was stirring the pot and
+squatted down on his heels by the fire beside the officer with the long
+neck. That officer did not take his eyes from Dolokhov and again asked
+to what regiment he belonged. Dolokhov, as if he had not heard the
+question, did not reply, but lighting a short French pipe which he took
+from his pocket began asking the officer in how far the road before them
+was safe from Cossacks.
+
+"Those brigands are everywhere," replied an officer from behind the
+fire.
+
+Dolokhov remarked that the Cossacks were a danger only to stragglers
+such as his companion and himself, "but probably they would not dare to
+attack large detachments?" he added inquiringly. No one replied.
+
+"Well, now he'll come away," Petya thought every moment as he stood by
+the campfire listening to the talk.
+
+But Dolokhov restarted the conversation which had dropped and began
+putting direct questions as to how many men there were in the battalion,
+how many battalions, and how many prisoners. Asking about the Russian
+prisoners with that detachment, Dolokhov said:
+
+"A horrid business dragging these corpses about with one! It would be
+better to shoot such rabble," and burst into loud laughter, so strange
+that Petya thought the French would immediately detect their disguise,
+and involuntarily took a step back from the campfire.
+
+No one replied a word to Dolokhov's laughter, and a French officer whom
+they could not see (he lay wrapped in a greatcoat) rose and whispered
+something to a companion. Dolokhov got up and called to the soldier who
+was holding their horses.
+
+"Will they bring our horses or not?" thought Petya, instinctively
+drawing nearer to Dolokhov.
+
+The horses were brought.
+
+"Good evening, gentlemen," said Dolokhov.
+
+Petya wished to say "Good night" but could not utter a word. The
+officers were whispering together. Dolokhov was a long time mounting his
+horse which would not stand still, then he rode out of the yard at a
+footpace. Petya rode beside him, longing to look round to see whether or
+not the French were running after them, but not daring to.
+
+Coming out onto the road Dolokhov did not ride back across the open
+country, but through the village. At one spot he stopped and listened.
+"Do you hear?" he asked. Petya recognized the sound of Russian voices
+and saw the dark figures of Russian prisoners round their campfires.
+When they had descended to the bridge Petya and Dolokhov rode past the
+sentinel, who without saying a word paced morosely up and down it, then
+they descended into the hollow where the Cossacks awaited them.
+
+"Well now, good-by. Tell Denisov, 'at the first shot at daybreak,'" said
+Dolokhov and was about to ride away, but Petya seized hold of him.
+
+"Really!" he cried, "you are such a hero! Oh, how fine, how splendid!
+How I love you!"
+
+"All right, all right!" said Dolokhov. But Petya did not let go of him
+and Dolokhov saw through the gloom that Petya was bending toward him and
+wanted to kiss him. Dolokhov kissed him, laughed, turned his horse, and
+vanished into the darkness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+Having returned to the watchman's hut, Petya found Denisov in the
+passage. He was awaiting Petya's return in a state of agitation,
+anxiety, and self-reproach for having let him go.
+
+"Thank God!" he exclaimed. "Yes, thank God!" he repeated, listening to
+Petya's rapturous account. "But, devil take you, I haven't slept because
+of you! Well, thank God. Now lie down. We can still get a nap before
+morning."
+
+"But... no," said Petya, "I don't want to sleep yet. Besides I know
+myself, if I fall asleep it's finished. And then I am used to not
+sleeping before a battle."
+
+He sat awhile in the hut joyfully recalling the details of his
+expedition and vividly picturing to himself what would happen next day.
+
+Then, noticing that Denisov was asleep, he rose and went out of doors.
+
+It was still quite dark outside. The rain was over, but drops were still
+falling from the trees. Near the watchman's hut the black shapes of the
+Cossacks' shanties and of horses tethered together could be seen. Behind
+the hut the dark shapes of the two wagons with their horses beside them
+were discernible, and in the hollow the dying campfire gleamed red. Not
+all the Cossacks and hussars were asleep; here and there, amid the
+sounds of falling drops and the munching of the horses near by, could be
+heard low voices which seemed to be whispering.
+
+Petya came out, peered into the darkness, and went up to the wagons.
+Someone was snoring under them, and around them stood saddled horses
+munching their oats. In the dark Petya recognized his own horse, which
+he called "Karabakh" though it was of Ukranian breed, and went up to it.
+
+"Well, Karabakh! We'll do some service tomorrow," said he, sniffing its
+nostrils and kissing it.
+
+"Why aren't you asleep, sir?" said a Cossack who was sitting under a
+wagon.
+
+"No, ah... Likhachev--isn't that your name? Do you know I have only just
+come back! We've been into the French camp."
+
+And Petya gave the Cossack a detailed account not only of his ride but
+also of his object, and why he considered it better to risk his life
+than to act "just anyhow."
+
+"Well, you should get some sleep now," said the Cossack.
+
+"No, I am used to this," said Petya. "I say, aren't the flints in your
+pistols worn out? I brought some with me. Don't you want any? You can
+have some."
+
+The Cossack bent forward from under the wagon to get a closer look at
+Petya.
+
+"Because I am accustomed to doing everything accurately," said Petya.
+"Some fellows do things just anyhow, without preparation, and then
+they're sorry for it afterwards. I don't like that."
+
+"Just so," said the Cossack.
+
+"Oh yes, another thing! Please, my dear fellow, will you sharpen my
+saber for me? It's got bl..." (Petya feared to tell a lie, and the saber
+never had been sharpened.) "Can you do it?"
+
+"Of course I can."
+
+Likhachev got up, rummaged in his pack, and soon Petya heard the warlike
+sound of steel on whetstone. He climbed onto the wagon and sat on its
+edge. The Cossack was sharpening the saber under the wagon.
+
+"I say! Are the lads asleep?" asked Petya.
+
+"Some are, and some aren't--like us."
+
+"Well, and that boy?"
+
+"Vesenny? Oh, he's thrown himself down there in the passage. Fast asleep
+after his fright. He was that glad!"
+
+After that Petya remained silent for a long time, listening to the
+sounds. He heard footsteps in the darkness and a black figure appeared.
+
+"What are you sharpening?" asked a man coming up to the wagon.
+
+"Why, this gentleman's saber."
+
+"That's right," said the man, whom Petya took to be an hussar. "Was the
+cup left here?"
+
+"There, by the wheel!"
+
+The hussar took the cup.
+
+"It must be daylight soon," said he, yawning, and went away.
+
+Petya ought to have known that he was in a forest with Denisov's
+guerrilla band, less than a mile from the road, sitting on a wagon
+captured from the French beside which horses were tethered, that under
+it Likhachev was sitting sharpening a saber for him, that the big dark
+blotch to the right was the watchman's hut, and the red blotch below to
+the left was the dying embers of a campfire, that the man who had come
+for the cup was an hussar who wanted a drink; but he neither knew nor
+waited to know anything of all this. He was in a fairy kingdom where
+nothing resembled reality. The big dark blotch might really be the
+watchman's hut or it might be a cavern leading to the very depths of the
+earth. Perhaps the red spot was a fire, or it might be the eye of an
+enormous monster. Perhaps he was really sitting on a wagon, but it might
+very well be that he was not sitting on a wagon but on a terribly high
+tower from which, if he fell, he would have to fall for a whole day or a
+whole month, or go on falling and never reach the bottom. Perhaps it was
+just the Cossack, Likhachev, who was sitting under the wagon, but it
+might be the kindest, bravest, most wonderful, most splendid man in the
+world, whom no one knew of. It might really have been that the hussar
+came for water and went back into the hollow, but perhaps he had simply
+vanished--disappeared altogether and dissolved into nothingness.
+
+Nothing Petya could have seen now would have surprised him. He was in a
+fairy kingdom where everything was possible.
+
+He looked up at the sky. And the sky was a fairy realm like the earth.
+It was clearing, and over the tops of the trees clouds were swiftly
+sailing as if unveiling the stars. Sometimes it looked as if the clouds
+were passing, and a clear black sky appeared. Sometimes it seemed as if
+the black spaces were clouds. Sometimes the sky seemed to be rising
+high, high overhead, and then it seemed to sink so low that one could
+touch it with one's hand.
+
+Petya's eyes began to close and he swayed a little.
+
+The trees were dripping. Quiet talking was heard. The horses neighed and
+jostled one another. Someone snored.
+
+"Ozheg-zheg, Ozheg-zheg..." hissed the saber against the whetstone, and
+suddenly Petya heard an harmonious orchestra playing some unknown,
+sweetly solemn hymn. Petya was as musical as Natasha and more so than
+Nicholas, but had never learned music or thought about it, and so the
+melody that unexpectedly came to his mind seemed to him particularly
+fresh and attractive. The music became more and more audible. The melody
+grew and passed from one instrument to another. And what was played was
+a fugue--though Petya had not the least conception of what a fugue is.
+Each instrument--now resembling a violin and now a horn, but better and
+clearer than violin or horn--played its own part, and before it had
+finished the melody merged with another instrument that began almost the
+same air, and then with a third and a fourth; and they all blended into
+one and again became separate and again blended, now into solemn church
+music, now into something dazzlingly brilliant and triumphant.
+
+"Oh--why, that was in a dream!" Petya said to himself, as he lurched
+forward. "It's in my ears. But perhaps it's music of my own. Well, go
+on, my music! Now!..."
+
+He closed his eyes, and, from all sides as if from a distance, sounds
+fluttered, grew into harmonies, separated, blended, and again all
+mingled into the same sweet and solemn hymn. "Oh, this is delightful! As
+much as I like and as I like!" said Petya to himself. He tried to
+conduct that enormous orchestra.
+
+"Now softly, softly die away!" and the sounds obeyed him. "Now fuller,
+more joyful. Still more and more joyful!" And from an unknown depth rose
+increasingly triumphant sounds. "Now voices join in!" ordered Petya. And
+at first from afar he heard men's voices and then women's. The voices
+grew in harmonious triumphant strength, and Petya listened to their
+surpassing beauty in awe and joy.
+
+With a solemn triumphal march there mingled a song, the drip from the
+trees, and the hissing of the saber, "Ozheg-zheg-zheg..." and again the
+horses jostled one another and neighed, not disturbing the choir but
+joining in it.
+
+Petya did not know how long this lasted: he enjoyed himself all the
+time, wondered at his enjoyment and regretted that there was no one to
+share it. He was awakened by Likhachev's kindly voice.
+
+"It's ready, your honor; you can split a Frenchman in half with it!"
+
+Petya woke up.
+
+"It's getting light, it's really getting light!" he exclaimed.
+
+The horses that had previously been invisible could now be seen to their
+very tails, and a watery light showed itself through the bare branches.
+Petya shook himself, jumped up, took a ruble from his pocket and gave it
+to Likhachev; then he flourished the saber, tested it, and sheathed it.
+The Cossacks were untying their horses and tightening their saddle
+girths.
+
+"And here's the commander," said Likhachev.
+
+Denisov came out of the watchman's hut and, having called Petya, gave
+orders to get ready.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+The men rapidly picked out their horses in the semidarkness, tightened
+their saddle girths, and formed companies. Denisov stood by the
+watchman's hut giving final orders. The infantry of the detachment
+passed along the road and quickly disappeared amid the trees in the mist
+of early dawn, hundreds of feet splashing through the mud. The esaul
+gave some orders to his men. Petya held his horse by the bridle,
+impatiently awaiting the order to mount. His face, having been bathed in
+cold water, was all aglow, and his eyes were particularly brilliant.
+Cold shivers ran down his spine and his whole body pulsed rhythmically.
+
+"Well, is ev'wything weady?" asked Denisov. "Bwing the horses."
+
+The horses were brought. Denisov was angry with the Cossack because the
+saddle girths were too slack, reproved him, and mounted. Petya put his
+foot in the stirrup. His horse by habit made as if to nip his leg, but
+Petya leaped quickly into the saddle unconscious of his own weight and,
+turning to look at the hussars starting in the darkness behind him, rode
+up to Denisov.
+
+"Vasili Dmitrich, entrust me with some commission! Please... for God's
+sake...!" said he.
+
+Denisov seemed to have forgotten Petya's very existence. He turned to
+glance at him.
+
+"I ask one thing of you," he said sternly, "to obey me and not shove
+yourself forward anywhere."
+
+He did not say another word to Petya but rode in silence all the way.
+When they had come to the edge of the forest it was noticeably growing
+light over the field. Denisov talked in whispers with the esaul and the
+Cossacks rode past Petya and Denisov. When they had all ridden by,
+Denisov touched his horse and rode down the hill. Slipping onto their
+haunches and sliding, the horses descended with their riders into the
+ravine. Petya rode beside Denisov, the pulsation of his body constantly
+increasing. It was getting lighter and lighter, but the mist still hid
+distant objects. Having reached the valley, Denisov looked back and
+nodded to a Cossack beside him.
+
+"The signal!" said he.
+
+The Cossack raised his arm and a shot rang out. In an instant the tramp
+of horses galloping forward was heard, shouts came from various sides,
+and then more shots.
+
+At the first sound of trampling hoofs and shouting, Petya lashed his
+horse and loosening his rein galloped forward, not heeding Denisov who
+shouted at him. It seemed to Petya that at the moment the shot was fired
+it suddenly became as bright as noon. He galloped to the bridge.
+Cossacks were galloping along the road in front of him. On the bridge he
+collided with a Cossack who had fallen behind, but he galloped on. In
+front of him soldiers, probably Frenchmen, were running from right to
+left across the road. One of them fell in the mud under his horse's
+feet.
+
+Cossacks were crowding about a hut, busy with something. From the midst
+of that crowd terrible screams arose. Petya galloped up, and the first
+thing he saw was the pale face and trembling jaw of a Frenchman,
+clutching the handle of a lance that had been aimed at him.
+
+"Hurrah!... Lads!... ours!" shouted Petya, and giving rein to his
+excited horse he galloped forward along the village street.
+
+He could hear shooting ahead of him. Cossacks, hussars, and ragged
+Russian prisoners, who had come running from both sides of the road,
+were shouting something loudly and incoherently. A gallant-looking
+Frenchman, in a blue overcoat, capless, and with a frowning red face,
+had been defending himself against the hussars. When Petya galloped up
+the Frenchman had already fallen. "Too late again!" flashed through
+Petya's mind and he galloped on to the place from which the rapid firing
+could be heard. The shots came from the yard of the landowner's house he
+had visited the night before with Dolokhov. The French were making a
+stand there behind a wattle fence in a garden thickly overgrown with
+bushes and were firing at the Cossacks who crowded at the gateway.
+Through the smoke, as he approached the gate, Petya saw Dolokhov, whose
+face was of a pale-greenish tint, shouting to his men. "Go round! Wait
+for the infantry!" he exclaimed as Petya rode up to him.
+
+"Wait?... Hurrah-ah-ah!" shouted Petya, and without pausing a moment
+galloped to the place whence came the sounds of firing and where the
+smoke was thickest.
+
+A volley was heard, and some bullets whistled past, while others plashed
+against something. The Cossacks and Dolokhov galloped after Petya into
+the gateway of the courtyard. In the dense wavering smoke some of the
+French threw down their arms and ran out of the bushes to meet the
+Cossacks, while others ran down the hill toward the pond. Petya was
+galloping along the courtyard, but instead of holding the reins he waved
+both his arms about rapidly and strangely, slipping farther and farther
+to one side in his saddle. His horse, having galloped up to a campfire
+that was smoldering in the morning light, stopped suddenly, and Petya
+fell heavily on to the wet ground. The Cossacks saw that his arms and
+legs jerked rapidly though his head was quite motionless. A bullet had
+pierced his skull.
+
+After speaking to the senior French officer, who came out of the house
+with a white handkerchief tied to his sword and announced that they
+surrendered, Dolokhov dismounted and went up to Petya, who lay
+motionless with outstretched arms.
+
+"Done for!" he said with a frown, and went to the gate to meet Denisov
+who was riding toward him.
+
+"Killed?" cried Denisov, recognizing from a distance the unmistakably
+lifeless attitude--very familiar to him--in which Petya's body was
+lying.
+
+"Done for!" repeated Dolokhov as if the utterance of these words
+afforded him pleasure, and he went quickly up to the prisoners, who were
+surrounded by Cossacks who had hurried up. "We won't take them!" he
+called out to Denisov.
+
+Denisov did not reply; he rode up to Petya, dismounted, and with
+trembling hands turned toward himself the bloodstained, mud-bespattered
+face which had already gone white.
+
+"I am used to something sweet. Raisins, fine ones... take them all!" he
+recalled Petya's words. And the Cossacks looked round in surprise at the
+sound, like the yelp of a dog, with which Denisov turned away, walked to
+the wattle fence, and seized hold of it.
+
+Among the Russian prisoners rescued by Denisov and Dolokhov was Pierre
+Bezukhov.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+During the whole of their march from Moscow no fresh orders had been
+issued by the French authorities concerning the party of prisoners among
+whom was Pierre. On the twenty-second of October that party was no
+longer with the same troops and baggage trains with which it had left
+Moscow. Half the wagons laden with hardtack that had traveled the first
+stages with them had been captured by Cossacks, the other half had gone
+on ahead. Not one of those dismounted cavalrymen who had marched in
+front of the prisoners was left; they had all disappeared. The artillery
+the prisoners had seen in front of them during the first days was now
+replaced by Marshal Junot's enormous baggage train, convoyed by
+Westphalians. Behind the prisoners came a cavalry baggage train.
+
+From Vyazma onwards the French army, which had till then moved in three
+columns, went on as a single group. The symptoms of disorder that Pierre
+had noticed at their first halting place after leaving Moscow had now
+reached the utmost limit.
+
+The road along which they moved was bordered on both sides by dead
+horses; ragged men who had fallen behind from various regiments
+continually changed about, now joining the moving column, now again
+lagging behind it.
+
+Several times during the march false alarms had been given and the
+soldiers of the escort had raised their muskets, fired, and run
+headlong, crushing one another, but had afterwards reassembled and
+abused each other for their causeless panic.
+
+These three groups traveling together--the cavalry stores, the convoy of
+prisoners, and Junot's baggage train--still constituted a separate and
+united whole, though each of the groups was rapidly melting away.
+
+Of the artillery baggage train which had consisted of a hundred and
+twenty wagons, not more than sixty now remained; the rest had been
+captured or left behind. Some of Junot's wagons also had been captured
+or abandoned. Three wagons had been raided and robbed by stragglers from
+Davout's corps. From the talk of the Germans Pierre learned that a
+larger guard had been allotted to that baggage train than to the
+prisoners, and that one of their comrades, a German soldier, had been
+shot by the marshal's own order because a silver spoon belonging to the
+marshal had been found in his possession.
+
+The group of prisoners had melted away most of all. Of the three hundred
+and thirty men who had set out from Moscow fewer than a hundred now
+remained. The prisoners were more burdensome to the escort than even the
+cavalry saddles or Junot's baggage. They understood that the saddles and
+Junot's spoon might be of some use, but that cold and hungry soldiers
+should have to stand and guard equally cold and hungry Russians who
+froze and lagged behind on the road (in which case the order was to
+shoot them) was not merely incomprehensible but revolting. And the
+escort, as if afraid, in the grievous condition they themselves were in,
+of giving way to the pity they felt for the prisoners and so rendering
+their own plight still worse, treated them with particular moroseness
+and severity.
+
+At Dorogobuzh while the soldiers of the convoy, after locking the
+prisoners in a stable, had gone off to pillage their own stores, several
+of the soldier prisoners tunneled under the wall and ran away, but were
+recaptured by the French and shot.
+
+The arrangement adopted when they started, that the officer prisoners
+should be kept separate from the rest, had long since been abandoned.
+All who could walk went together, and after the third stage Pierre had
+rejoined Karataev and the gray-blue bandy-legged dog that had chosen
+Karataev for its master.
+
+On the third day after leaving Moscow Karataev again fell ill with the
+fever he had suffered from in the hospital in Moscow, and as he grew
+gradually weaker Pierre kept away from him. Pierre did not know why, but
+since Karataev had begun to grow weaker it had cost him an effort to go
+near him. When he did so and heard the subdued moaning with which
+Karataev generally lay down at the halting places, and when he smelled
+the odor emanating from him which was now stronger than before, Pierre
+moved farther away and did not think about him.
+
+While imprisoned in the shed Pierre had learned not with his intellect
+but with his whole being, by life itself, that man is created for
+happiness, that happiness is within him, in the satisfaction of simple
+human needs, and that all unhappiness arises not from privation but from
+superfluity. And now during these last three weeks of the march he had
+learned still another new, consolatory truth--that nothing in this world
+is terrible. He had learned that as there is no condition in which man
+can be happy and entirely free, so there is no condition in which he
+need be unhappy and lack freedom. He learned that suffering and freedom
+have their limits and that those limits are very near together; that the
+person in a bed of roses with one crumpled petal suffered as keenly as
+he now, sleeping on the bare damp earth with one side growing chilled
+while the other was warming; and that when he had put on tight dancing
+shoes he had suffered just as he did now when he walked with bare feet
+that were covered with sores--his footgear having long since fallen to
+pieces. He discovered that when he had married his wife--of his own free
+will as it had seemed to him--he had been no more free than now when
+they locked him up at night in a stable. Of all that he himself
+subsequently termed his sufferings, but which at the time he scarcely
+felt, the worst was the state of his bare, raw, and scab-covered feet.
+(The horseflesh was appetizing and nourishing, the saltpeter flavor of
+the gunpowder they used instead of salt was even pleasant; there was no
+great cold, it was always warm walking in the daytime, and at night
+there were the campfires; the lice that devoured him warmed his body.)
+The one thing that was at first hard to bear was his feet.
+
+After the second day's march Pierre, having examined his feet by the
+campfire, thought it would be impossible to walk on them; but when
+everybody got up he went along, limping, and, when he had warmed up,
+walked without feeling the pain, though at night his feet were more
+terrible to look at than before. However, he did not look at them now,
+but thought of other things.
+
+Only now did Pierre realize the full strength of life in man and the
+saving power he has of transferring his attention from one thing to
+another, which is like the safety valve of a boiler that allows
+superfluous steam to blow off when the pressure exceeds a certain limit.
+
+He did not see and did not hear how they shot the prisoners who lagged
+behind, though more than a hundred perished in that way. He did not
+think of Karataev who grew weaker every day and evidently would soon
+have to share that fate. Still less did Pierre think about himself. The
+harder his position became and the more terrible the future, the more
+independent of that position in which he found himself were the joyful
+and comforting thoughts, memories, and imaginings that came to him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+At midday on the twenty-second of October Pierre was going uphill along
+the muddy, slippery road, looking at his feet and at the roughness of
+the way. Occasionally he glanced at the familiar crowd around him and
+then again at his feet. The former and the latter were alike familiar
+and his own. The blue-gray bandy legged dog ran merrily along the side
+of the road, sometimes in proof of its agility and self-satisfaction
+lifting one hind leg and hopping along on three, and then again going on
+all four and rushing to bark at the crows that sat on the carrion. The
+dog was merrier and sleeker than it had been in Moscow. All around lay
+the flesh of different animals--from men to horses--in various stages of
+decomposition; and as the wolves were kept off by the passing men the
+dog could eat all it wanted.
+
+It had been raining since morning and had seemed as if at any moment it
+might cease and the sky clear, but after a short break it began raining
+harder than before. The saturated road no longer absorbed the water,
+which ran along the ruts in streams.
+
+Pierre walked along, looking from side to side, counting his steps in
+threes, and reckoning them off on his fingers. Mentally addressing the
+rain, he repeated: "Now then, now then, go on! Pelt harder!"
+
+It seemed to him that he was thinking of nothing, but far down and deep
+within him his soul was occupied with something important and
+comforting. This something was a most subtle spiritual deduction from a
+conversation with Karataev the day before.
+
+At their yesterday's halting place, feeling chilly by a dying campfire,
+Pierre had got up and gone to the next one, which was burning better.
+There Platon Karataev was sitting covered up--head and all--with his
+greatcoat as if it were a vestment, telling the soldiers in his
+effective and pleasant though now feeble voice a story Pierre knew. It
+was already past midnight, the hour when Karataev was usually free of
+his fever and particularly lively. When Pierre reached the fire and
+heard Platon's voice enfeebled by illness, and saw his pathetic face
+brightly lit up by the blaze, he felt a painful prick at his heart. His
+feeling of pity for this man frightened him and he wished to go away,
+but there was no other fire, and Pierre sat down, trying not to look at
+Platon.
+
+"Well, how are you?" he asked.
+
+"How am I? If we grumble at sickness, God won't grant us death," replied
+Platon, and at once resumed the story he had begun.
+
+"And so, brother," he continued, with a smile on his pale emaciated face
+and a particularly happy light in his eyes, "you see, brother..."
+
+Pierre had long been familiar with that story. Karataev had told it to
+him alone some half-dozen times and always with a specially joyful
+emotion. But well as he knew it, Pierre now listened to that tale as to
+something new, and the quiet rapture Karataev evidently felt as he told
+it communicated itself also to Pierre. The story was of an old merchant
+who lived a good and God-fearing life with his family, and who went once
+to the Nizhni fair with a companion--a rich merchant.
+
+Having put up at an inn they both went to sleep, and next morning his
+companion was found robbed and with his throat cut. A bloodstained knife
+was found under the old merchant's pillow. He was tried, knouted, and
+his nostrils having been torn off, "all in due form" as Karataev put it,
+he was sent to hard labor in Siberia.
+
+"And so, brother" (it was at this point that Pierre came up), "ten years
+or more passed by. The old man was living as a convict, submitting as he
+should and doing no wrong. Only he prayed to God for death. Well, one
+night the convicts were gathered just as we are, with the old man among
+them. And they began telling what each was suffering for, and how they
+had sinned against God. One told how he had taken a life, another had
+taken two, a third had set a house on fire, while another had simply
+been a vagrant and had done nothing. So they asked the old man: 'What
+are you being punished for, Daddy?'--'I, my dear brothers,' said he, 'am
+being punished for my own and other men's sins. But I have not killed
+anyone or taken anything that was not mine, but have only helped my
+poorer brothers. I was a merchant, my dear brothers, and had much
+property. 'And he went on to tell them all about it in due order. 'I
+don't grieve for myself,' he says, 'God, it seems, has chastened me.
+Only I am sorry for my old wife and the children,' and the old man began
+to weep. Now it happened that in the group was the very man who had
+killed the other merchant. 'Where did it happen, Daddy?' he said. 'When,
+and in what month?' He asked all about it and his heart began to ache.
+So he comes up to the old man like this, and falls down at his feet!
+'You are perishing because of me, Daddy,' he says. 'It's quite true,
+lads, that this man,' he says, 'is being tortured innocently and for
+nothing! I,' he says, 'did that deed, and I put the knife under your
+head while you were asleep. Forgive me, Daddy,' he says, 'for Christ's
+sake!'"
+
+Karataev paused, smiling joyously as he gazed into the fire, and he drew
+the logs together.
+
+"And the old man said, 'God will forgive you, we are all sinners in His
+sight. I suffer for my own sins,' and he wept bitter tears. Well, and
+what do you think, dear friends?" Karataev continued, his face
+brightening more and more with a rapturous smile as if what he now had
+to tell contained the chief charm and the whole meaning of his story:
+"What do you think, dear fellows? That murderer confessed to the
+authorities. 'I have taken six lives,' he says (he was a great sinner),
+'but what I am most sorry for is this old man. Don't let him suffer
+because of me.' So he confessed and it was all written down and the
+papers sent off in due form. The place was a long way off, and while
+they were judging, what with one thing and another, filling in the
+papers all in due form--the authorities I mean--time passed. The affair
+reached the Tsar. After a while the Tsar's decree came: to set the
+merchant free and give him a compensation that had been awarded. The
+paper arrived and they began to look for the old man. 'Where is the old
+man who has been suffering innocently and in vain? A paper has come from
+the Tsar!' so they began looking for him," here Karataev's lower jaw
+trembled, "but God had already forgiven him--he was dead! That's how it
+was, dear fellows!" Karataev concluded and sat for a long time silent,
+gazing before him with a smile.
+
+And Pierre's soul was dimly but joyfully filled not by the story itself
+but by its mysterious significance: by the rapturous joy that lit up
+Karataev's face as he told it, and the mystic significance of that joy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+"A vos places!" * suddenly cried a voice.
+
+
+* "To your places."
+
+A pleasant feeling of excitement and an expectation of something joyful
+and solemn was aroused among the soldiers of the convoy and the
+prisoners. From all sides came shouts of command, and from the left came
+smartly dressed cavalrymen on good horses, passing the prisoners at a
+trot. The expression on all faces showed the tension people feel at the
+approach of those in authority. The prisoners thronged together and were
+pushed off the road. The convoy formed up.
+
+"The Emperor! The Emperor! The Marshal! The Duke!" and hardly had the
+sleek cavalry passed, before a carriage drawn by six gray horses rattled
+by. Pierre caught a glimpse of a man in a three-cornered hat with a
+tranquil look on his handsome, plump, white face. It was one of the
+marshals. His eye fell on Pierre's large and striking figure, and in the
+expression with which he frowned and looked away Pierre thought he
+detected sympathy and a desire to conceal that sympathy.
+
+The general in charge of the stores galloped after the carriage with a
+red and frightened face, whipping up his skinny horse. Several officers
+formed a group and some soldiers crowded round them. Their faces all
+looked excited and worried.
+
+"What did he say? What did he say?" Pierre heard them ask.
+
+While the marshal was passing, the prisoners had huddled together in a
+crowd, and Pierre saw Karataev whom he had not yet seen that morning. He
+sat in his short overcoat leaning against a birch tree. On his face,
+besides the look of joyful emotion it had worn yesterday while telling
+the tale of the merchant who suffered innocently, there was now an
+expression of quiet solemnity.
+
+Karataev looked at Pierre with his kindly round eyes now filled with
+tears, evidently wishing him to come near that he might say something to
+him. But Pierre was not sufficiently sure of himself. He made as if he
+did not notice that look and moved hastily away.
+
+When the prisoners again went forward Pierre looked round. Karataev was
+still sitting at the side of the road under the birch tree and two
+Frenchmen were talking over his head. Pierre did not look round again
+but went limping up the hill.
+
+From behind, where Karataev had been sitting, came the sound of a shot.
+Pierre heard it plainly, but at that moment he remembered that he had
+not yet finished reckoning up how many stages still remained to
+Smolensk--a calculation he had begun before the marshal went by. And he
+again started reckoning. Two French soldiers ran past Pierre, one of
+whom carried a lowered and smoking gun. They both looked pale, and in
+the expression on their faces--one of them glanced timidly at Pierre--
+there was something resembling what he had seen on the face of the young
+soldier at the execution. Pierre looked at the soldier and remembered
+that, two days before, that man had burned his shirt while drying it at
+the fire and how they had laughed at him.
+
+Behind him, where Karataev had been sitting, the dog began to howl.
+"What a stupid beast! Why is it howling?" thought Pierre.
+
+His comrades, the prisoner soldiers walking beside him, avoided looking
+back at the place where the shot had been fired and the dog was howling,
+just as Pierre did, but there was a set look on all their faces.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+The stores, the prisoners, and the marshal's baggage train stopped at
+the village of Shamshevo. The men crowded together round the campfires.
+Pierre went up to the fire, ate some roast horseflesh, lay down with his
+back to the fire, and immediately fell asleep. He again slept as he had
+done at Mozhaysk after the battle of Borodino.
+
+Again real events mingled with dreams and again someone, he or another,
+gave expression to his thoughts, and even to the same thoughts that had
+been expressed in his dream at Mozhaysk.
+
+"Life is everything. Life is God. Everything changes and moves and that
+movement is God. And while there is life there is joy in consciousness
+of the divine. To love life is to love God. Harder and more blessed than
+all else is to love this life in one's sufferings, in innocent
+sufferings."
+
+"Karataev!" came to Pierre's mind.
+
+And suddenly he saw vividly before him a long-forgotten, kindly old man
+who had given him geography lessons in Switzerland. "Wait a bit," said
+the old man, and showed Pierre a globe. This globe was alive--a
+vibrating ball without fixed dimensions. Its whole surface consisted of
+drops closely pressed together, and all these drops moved and changed
+places, sometimes several of them merging into one, sometimes one
+dividing into many. Each drop tried to spread out and occupy as much
+space as possible, but others striving to do the same compressed it,
+sometimes destroyed it, and sometimes merged with it.
+
+"That is life," said the old teacher.
+
+"How simple and clear it is," thought Pierre. "How is it I did not know
+it before?"
+
+"God is in the midst, and each drop tries to expand so as to reflect Him
+to the greatest extent. And it grows, merges, disappears from the
+surface, sinks to the depths, and again emerges. There now, Karataev has
+spread out and disappeared. Do you understand, my child?" said the
+teacher.
+
+"Do you understand, damn you?" shouted a voice, and Pierre woke up.
+
+He lifted himself and sat up. A Frenchman who had just pushed a Russian
+soldier away was squatting by the fire, engaged in roasting a piece of
+meat stuck on a ramrod. His sleeves were rolled up and his sinewy,
+hairy, red hands with their short fingers deftly turned the ramrod. His
+brown morose face with frowning brows was clearly visible by the glow of
+the charcoal.
+
+"It's all the same to him," he muttered, turning quickly to a soldier
+who stood behind him. "Brigand! Get away!"
+
+And twisting the ramrod he looked gloomily at Pierre, who turned away
+and gazed into the darkness. A prisoner, the Russian soldier the
+Frenchman had pushed away, was sitting near the fire patting something
+with his hand. Looking more closely Pierre recognized the blue-gray dog,
+sitting beside the soldier, wagging its tail.
+
+"Ah, he's come?" said Pierre. "And Plat-" he began, but did not finish.
+
+Suddenly and simultaneously a crowd of memories awoke in his fancy--of
+the look Platon had given him as he sat under the tree, of the shot
+heard from that spot, of the dog's howl, of the guilty faces of the two
+Frenchmen as they ran past him, of the lowered and smoking gun, and of
+Karataev's absence at this halt--and he was on the point of realizing
+that Karataev had been killed, but just at that instant, he knew not
+why, the recollection came to his mind of a summer evening he had spent
+with a beautiful Polish lady on the veranda of his house in Kiev. And
+without linking up the events of the day or drawing a conclusion from
+them, Pierre closed his eyes, seeing a vision of the country in
+summertime mingled with memories of bathing and of the liquid, vibrating
+globe, and he sank into water so that it closed over his head.
+
+Before sunrise he was awakened by shouts and loud and rapid firing.
+French soldiers were running past him.
+
+"The Cossacks!" one of them shouted, and a moment later a crowd of
+Russians surrounded Pierre.
+
+For a long time he could not understand what was happening to him. All
+around he heard his comrades sobbing with joy.
+
+"Brothers! Dear fellows! Darlings!" old soldiers exclaimed, weeping, as
+they embraced Cossacks and hussars.
+
+The hussars and Cossacks crowded round the prisoners; one offered them
+clothes, another boots, and a third bread. Pierre sobbed as he sat among
+them and could not utter a word. He hugged the first soldier who
+approached him, and kissed him, weeping.
+
+Dolokhov stood at the gate of the ruined house, letting a crowd of
+disarmed Frenchmen pass by. The French, excited by all that had
+happened, were talking loudly among themselves, but as they passed
+Dolokhov who gently switched his boots with his whip and watched them
+with cold glassy eyes that boded no good, they became silent. On the
+opposite side stood Dolokhov's Cossack, counting the prisoners and
+marking off each hundred with a chalk line on the gate.
+
+"How many?" Dolokhov asked the Cossack.
+
+"The second hundred," replied the Cossack.
+
+"Filez, filez!" * Dolokhov kept saying, having adopted this expression
+from the French, and when his eyes met those of the prisoners they
+flashed with a cruel light.
+
+
+* "Get along, get along!"
+
+Denisov, bareheaded and with a gloomy face, walked behind some Cossacks
+who were carrying the body of Petya Rostov to a hole that had been dug
+in the garden.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+After the twenty-eighth of October when the frosts began, the flight of
+the French assumed a still more tragic character, with men freezing, or
+roasting themselves to death at the campfires, while carriages with
+people dressed in furs continued to drive past, carrying away the
+property that had been stolen by the Emperor, kings, and dukes; but the
+process of the flight and disintegration of the French army went on
+essentially as before.
+
+From Moscow to Vyazma the French army of seventy-three thousand men not
+reckoning the Guards (who did nothing during the whole war but pillage)
+was reduced to thirty-six thousand, though not more than five thousand
+had fallen in battle. From this beginning the succeeding terms of the
+progression could be determined mathematically. The French army melted
+away and perished at the same rate from Moscow to Vyazma, from Vyazma to
+Smolensk, from Smolensk to the Berezina, and from the Berezina to Vilna-
+-independently of the greater or lesser intensity of the cold, the
+pursuit, the barring of the way, or any other particular conditions.
+Beyond Vyazma the French army instead of moving in three columns huddled
+together into one mass, and so went on to the end. Berthier wrote to his
+Emperor (we know how far commanding officers allow themselves to diverge
+from the truth in describing the condition of an army) and this is what
+he said:
+
+I deem it my duty to report to Your Majesty the condition of the various
+corps I have had occasion to observe during different stages of the last
+two or three days' march. They are almost disbanded. Scarcely a quarter
+of the soldiers remain with the standards of their regiments, the others
+go off by themselves in different directions hoping to find food and
+escape discipline. In general they regard Smolensk as the place where
+they hope to recover. During the last few days many of the men have been
+seen to throw away their cartridges and their arms. In such a state of
+affairs, whatever your ultimate plans may be, the interest of Your
+Majesty's service demands that the army should be rallied at Smolensk
+and should first of all be freed from ineffectives, such as dismounted
+cavalry, unnecessary baggage, and artillery material that is no longer
+in proportion to the present forces. The soldiers, who are worn out with
+hunger and fatigue, need these supplies as well as a few days' rest.
+Many have died these last days on the road or at the bivouacs. This
+state of things is continually becoming worse and makes one fear that
+unless a prompt remedy is applied the troops will no longer be under
+control in case of an engagement.
+
+November 9: twenty miles from Smolensk.
+
+After staggering into Smolensk which seemed to them a promised land, the
+French, searching for food, killed one another, sacked their own stores,
+and when everything had been plundered fled farther.
+
+They all went without knowing whither or why they were going. Still less
+did that genius, Napoleon, know it, for no one issued any orders to him.
+But still he and those about him retained their old habits: wrote
+commands, letters, reports, and orders of the day; called one another
+sire, mon cousin, prince d'Eckmuhl, roi de Naples, and so on. But these
+orders and reports were only on paper, nothing in them was acted upon
+for they could not be carried out, and though they entitled one another
+Majesties, Highnesses, or Cousins, they all felt that they were
+miserable wretches who had done much evil for which they had now to pay.
+And though they pretended to be concerned about the army, each was
+thinking only of himself and of how to get away quickly and save
+himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+The movements of the Russian and French armies during the campaign from
+Moscow back to the Niemen were like those in a game of Russian
+blindman's bluff, in which two players are blindfolded and one of them
+occasionally rings a little bell to inform the catcher of his
+whereabouts. First he rings his bell fearlessly, but when he gets into a
+tight place he runs away as quietly as he can, and often thinking to
+escape runs straight into his opponent's arms.
+
+At first while they were still moving along the Kaluga road, Napoleon's
+armies made their presence known, but later when they reached the
+Smolensk road they ran holding the clapper of their bell tight--and
+often thinking they were escaping ran right into the Russians.
+
+Owing to the rapidity of the French flight and the Russian pursuit and
+the consequent exhaustion of the horses, the chief means of
+approximately ascertaining the enemy's position--by cavalry scouting--
+was not available. Besides, as a result of the frequent and rapid change
+of position by each army, even what information was obtained could not
+be delivered in time. If news was received one day that the enemy had
+been in a certain position the day before, by the third day when
+something could have been done, that army was already two days' march
+farther on and in quite another position.
+
+One army fled and the other pursued. Beyond Smolensk there were several
+different roads available for the French, and one would have thought
+that during their stay of four days they might have learned where the
+enemy was, might have arranged some more advantageous plan and
+undertaken something new. But after a four days' halt the mob, with no
+maneuvers or plans, again began running along the beaten track, neither
+to the right nor to the left but along the old--the worst--road, through
+Krasnoe and Orsha.
+
+Expecting the enemy from behind and not in front, the French separated
+in their flight and spread out over a distance of twenty-four hours. In
+front of them all fled the Emperor, then the kings, then the dukes. The
+Russian army, expecting Napoleon to take the road to the right beyond
+the Dnieper--which was the only reasonable thing for him to do--
+themselves turned to the right and came out onto the highroad at
+Krasnoe. And here as in a game of blindman's buff the French ran into
+our vanguard. Seeing their enemy unexpectedly the French fell into
+confusion and stopped short from the sudden fright, but then they
+resumed their flight, abandoning their comrades who were farther behind.
+Then for three days separate portions of the French army--first Murat's
+(the vice-king's), then Davout's, and then Ney's--ran, as it were, the
+gauntlet of the Russian army. They abandoned one another, abandoned all
+their heavy baggage, their artillery, and half their men, and fled,
+getting past the Russians by night by making semicircles to the right.
+
+Ney, who came last, had been busying himself blowing up the walls of
+Smolensk which were in nobody's way, because despite the unfortunate
+plight of the French or because of it, they wished to punish the floor
+against which they had hurt themselves. Ney, who had had a corps of ten
+thousand men, reached Napoleon at Orsha with only one thousand men left,
+having abandoned all the rest and all his cannon, and having crossed the
+Dnieper at night by stealth at a wooded spot.
+
+From Orsha they fled farther along the road to Vilna, still playing at
+blindman's buff with the pursuing army. At the Berezina they again
+became disorganized, many were drowned and many surrendered, but those
+who got across the river fled farther. Their supreme chief donned a fur
+coat and, having seated himself in a sleigh, galloped on alone,
+abandoning his companions. The others who could do so drove away too,
+leaving those who could not to surrender or die.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+This campaign consisted in a flight of the French during which they did
+all they could to destroy themselves. From the time they turned onto the
+Kaluga road to the day their leader fled from the army, none of the
+movements of the crowd had any sense. So one might have thought that
+regarding this period of the campaign the historians, who attributed the
+actions of the mass to the will of one man, would have found it
+impossible to make the story of the retreat fit their theory. But no!
+Mountains of books have been written by the historians about this
+campaign, and everywhere are described Napoleon's arrangements, the
+maneuvers, and his profound plans which guided the army, as well as the
+military genius shown by his marshals.
+
+The retreat from Malo-Yaroslavets when he had a free road into a well-
+supplied district and the parallel road was open to him along which
+Kutuzov afterwards pursued him--this unnecessary retreat along a
+devastated road--is explained to us as being due to profound
+considerations. Similarly profound considerations are given for his
+retreat from Smolensk to Orsha. Then his heroism at Krasnoe is
+described, where he is reported to have been prepared to accept battle
+and take personal command, and to have walked about with a birch stick
+and said:
+
+"J'ai assez fait l'empereur; il est temps de faire le general," * but
+nevertheless immediately ran away again, abandoning to its fate the
+scattered fragments of the army he left behind.
+
+
+* "I have acted the Emperor long enough; it is time to act the general."
+
+Then we are told of the greatness of soul of the marshals, especially of
+Ney--a greatness of soul consisting in this: that he made his way by
+night around through the forest and across the Dnieper and escaped to
+Orsha, abandoning standards, artillery, and nine tenths of his men.
+
+And lastly, the final departure of the great Emperor from his heroic
+army is presented to us by the historians as something great and
+characteristic of genius. Even that final running away, described in
+ordinary language as the lowest depth of baseness which every child is
+taught to be ashamed of--even that act finds justification in the
+historians' language.
+
+When it is impossible to stretch the very elastic threads of historical
+ratiocination any farther, when actions are clearly contrary to all that
+humanity calls right or even just, the historians produce a saving
+conception of "greatness." "Greatness," it seems, excludes the standards
+of right and wrong. For the "great" man nothing is wrong, there is no
+atrocity for which a "great" man can be blamed.
+
+"C'est grand!" * say the historians, and there no longer exists either
+good or evil but only "grand" and "not grand." Grand is good, not grand
+is bad. Grand is the characteristic, in their conception, of some
+special animals called "heroes." And Napoleon, escaping home in a warm
+fur coat and leaving to perish those who were not merely his comrades
+but were (in his opinion) men he had brought there, feels que c'est
+grand, *(2) and his soul is tranquil.
+
+
+* "It is great."
+
+* (2) That it is great.
+
+"Du sublime (he saw something sublime in himself) au ridicule il n'y a
+qu'un pas," * said he. And the whole world for fifty years has been
+repeating: "Sublime! Grand! Napoleon le Grand!" Du sublime au ridicule
+il n'y a qu'un pas.
+
+
+* "From the sublime to the ridiculous is but a step."
+
+And it occurs to no one that to admit a greatness not commensurable with
+the standard of right and wrong is merely to admit one's own nothingness
+and immeasurable meanness.
+
+For us with the standard of good and evil given us by Christ, no human
+actions are incommensurable. And there is no greatness where simplicity,
+goodness, and truth are absent.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+What Russian, reading the account of the last part of the campaign of
+1812, has not experienced an uncomfortable feeling of regret,
+dissatisfaction, and perplexity? Who has not asked himself how it is
+that the French were not all captured or destroyed when our three armies
+surrounded them in superior numbers, when the disordered French, hungry
+and freezing, surrendered in crowds, and when (as the historians relate)
+the aim of the Russians was to stop the French, to cut them off, and
+capture them all?
+
+How was it that the Russian army, which when numerically weaker than the
+French had given battle at Borodino, did not achieve its purpose when it
+had surrounded the French on three sides and when its aim was to capture
+them? Can the French be so enormously superior to us that when we had
+surrounded them with superior forces we could not beat them? How could
+that happen?
+
+History (or what is called by that name) replying to these questions
+says that this occurred because Kutuzov and Tormasov and Chichagov, and
+this man and that man, did not execute such and such maneuvers...
+
+But why did they not execute those maneuvers? And why if they were
+guilty of not carrying out a prearranged plan were they not tried and
+punished? But even if we admitted that Kutuzov, Chichagov, and others
+were the cause of the Russian failures, it is still incomprehensible
+why, the position of the Russian army being what it was at Krasnoe and
+at the Berezina (in both cases we had superior forces), the French army
+with its marshals, kings, and Emperor was not captured, if that was what
+the Russians aimed at.
+
+The explanation of this strange fact given by Russian military
+historians (to the effect that Kutuzov hindered an attack) is unfounded,
+for we know that he could not restrain the troops from attacking at
+Vyazma and Tarutino.
+
+Why was the Russian army--which with inferior forces had withstood the
+enemy in full strength at Borodino--defeated at Krasnoe and the Berezina
+by the disorganized crowds of the French when it was numerically
+superior?
+
+If the aim of the Russians consisted in cutting off and capturing
+Napoleon and his marshals--and that aim was not merely frustrated but
+all attempts to attain it were most shamefully baffled--then this last
+period of the campaign is quite rightly considered by the French to be a
+series of victories, and quite wrongly considered victorious by Russian
+historians.
+
+The Russian military historians in so far as they submit to claims of
+logic must admit that conclusion, and in spite of their lyrical
+rhapsodies about valor, devotion, and so forth, must reluctantly admit
+that the French retreat from Moscow was a series of victories for
+Napoleon and defeats for Kutuzov.
+
+But putting national vanity entirely aside one feels that such a
+conclusion involves a contradiction, since the series of French
+victories brought the French complete destruction, while the series of
+Russian defeats led to the total destruction of their enemy and the
+liberation of their country.
+
+The source of this contradiction lies in the fact that the historians
+studying the events from the letters of the sovereigns and the generals,
+from memoirs, reports, projects, and so forth, have attributed to this
+last period of the war of 1812 an aim that never existed, namely that of
+cutting off and capturing Napoleon with his marshals and his army.
+
+There never was or could have been such an aim, for it would have been
+senseless and its attainment quite impossible.
+
+It would have been senseless, first because Napoleon's disorganized army
+was flying from Russia with all possible speed, that is to say, was
+doing just what every Russian desired. So what was the use of performing
+various operations on the French who were running away as fast as they
+possibly could?
+
+Secondly, it would have been senseless to block the passage of men whose
+whole energy was directed to flight.
+
+Thirdly, it would have been senseless to sacrifice one's own troops in
+order to destroy the French army, which without external interference
+was destroying itself at such a rate that, though its path was not
+blocked, it could not carry across the frontier more than it actually
+did in December, namely a hundredth part of the original army.
+
+Fourthly, it would have been senseless to wish to take captive the
+Emperor, kings, and dukes--whose capture would have been in the highest
+degree embarrassing for the Russians, as the most adroit diplomatists of
+the time (Joseph de Maistre and others) recognized. Still more senseless
+would have been the wish to capture army corps of the French, when our
+own army had melted away to half before reaching Krasnoe and a whole
+division would have been needed to convoy the corps of prisoners, and
+when our men were not always getting full rations and the prisoners
+already taken were perishing of hunger.
+
+All the profound plans about cutting off and capturing Napoleon and his
+army were like the plan of a market gardener who, when driving out of
+his garden a cow that had trampled down the beds he had planted, should
+run to the gate and hit the cow on the head. The only thing to be said
+in excuse of that gardener would be that he was very angry. But not even
+that could be said for those who drew up this project, for it was not
+they who had suffered from the trampled beds.
+
+But besides the fact that cutting off Napoleon with his army would have
+been senseless, it was impossible.
+
+It was impossible first because--as experience shows that a three-mile
+movement of columns on a battlefield never coincides with the plans--the
+probability of Chichagov, Kutuzov, and Wittgenstein effecting a junction
+on time at an appointed place was so remote as to be tantamount to
+impossibility, as in fact thought Kutuzov, who when he received the plan
+remarked that diversions planned over great distances do not yield the
+desired results.
+
+Secondly it was impossible, because to paralyze the momentum with which
+Napoleon's army was retiring, incomparably greater forces than the
+Russians possessed would have been required.
+
+Thirdly it was impossible, because the military term "to cut off" has no
+meaning. One can cut off a slice of bread, but not an army. To cut off
+an army--to bar its road--is quite impossible, for there is always
+plenty of room to avoid capture and there is the night when nothing can
+be seen, as the military scientists might convince themselves by the
+example of Krasnoe and of the Berezina. It is only possible to capture
+prisoners if they agree to be captured, just as it is only possible to
+catch a swallow if it settles on one's hand. Men can only be taken
+prisoners if they surrender according to the rules of strategy and
+tactics, as the Germans did. But the French troops quite rightly did not
+consider that this suited them, since death by hunger and cold awaited
+them in flight or captivity alike.
+
+Fourthly and chiefly it was impossible, because never since the world
+began has a war been fought under such conditions as those that obtained
+in 1812, and the Russian army in its pursuit of the French strained its
+strength to the utmost and could not have done more without destroying
+itself.
+
+During the movement of the Russian army from Tarutino to Krasnoe it lost
+fifty thousand sick or stragglers, that is a number equal to the
+population of a large provincial town. Half the men fell out of the army
+without a battle.
+
+And it is of this period of the campaign--when the army lacked boots and
+sheepskin coats, was short of provisions and without vodka, and was
+camping out at night for months in the snow with fifteen degrees of
+frost, when there were only seven or eight hours of daylight and the
+rest was night in which the influence of discipline cannot be
+maintained, when men were taken into that region of death where
+discipline fails, not for a few hours only as in a battle, but for
+months, where they were every moment fighting death from hunger and
+cold, when half the army perished in a single month--it is of this
+period of the campaign that the historians tell us how Miloradovich
+should have made a flank march to such and such a place, Tormasov to
+another place, and Chichagov should have crossed (more than knee-deep in
+snow) to somewhere else, and how so-and-so "routed" and "cut off" the
+French and so on and so on.
+
+The Russians, half of whom died, did all that could and should have been
+done to attain an end worthy of the nation, and they are not to blame
+because other Russians, sitting in warm rooms, proposed that they should
+do what was impossible.
+
+All that strange contradiction now difficult to understand between the
+facts and the historical accounts only arises because the historians
+dealing with the matter have written the history of the beautiful words
+and sentiments of various generals, and not the history of the events.
+
+To them the words of Miloradovich seem very interesting, and so do their
+surmises and the rewards this or that general received; but the question
+of those fifty thousand men who were left in hospitals and in graves
+does not even interest them, for it does not come within the range of
+their investigation.
+
+Yet one need only discard the study of the reports and general plans and
+consider the movement of those hundreds of thousands of men who took a
+direct part in the events, and all the questions that seemed insoluble
+easily and simply receive an immediate and certain solution.
+
+The aim of cutting off Napoleon and his army never existed except in the
+imaginations of a dozen people. It could not exist because it was
+senseless and unattainable.
+
+The people had a single aim: to free their land from invasion. That aim
+was attained in the first place of itself, as the French ran away, and
+so it was only necessary not to stop their flight. Secondly it was
+attained by the guerrilla warfare which was destroying the French, and
+thirdly by the fact that a large Russian army was following the French,
+ready to use its strength in case their movement stopped.
+
+The Russian army had to act like a whip to a running animal. And the
+experienced driver knew it was better to hold the whip raised as a
+menace than to strike the running animal on the head.
+
+BOOK FIFTEEN: 1812 - 13
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+When seeing a dying animal a man feels a sense of horror: substance
+similar to his own is perishing before his eyes. But when it is a
+beloved and intimate human being that is dying, besides this horror at
+the extinction of life there is a severance, a spiritual wound, which
+like a physical wound is sometimes fatal and sometimes heals, but always
+aches and shrinks at any external irritating touch.
+
+After Prince Andrew's death Natasha and Princess Mary alike felt this.
+Drooping in spirit and closing their eyes before the menacing cloud of
+death that overhung them, they dared not look life in the face. They
+carefully guarded their open wounds from any rough and painful contact.
+Everything: a carriage passing rapidly in the street, a summons to
+dinner, the maid's inquiry what dress to prepare, or worse still any
+word of insincere or feeble sympathy, seemed an insult, painfully
+irritated the wound, interrupting that necessary quiet in which they
+both tried to listen to the stern and dreadful choir that still
+resounded in their imagination, and hindered their gazing into those
+mysterious limitless vistas that for an instant had opened out before
+them.
+
+Only when alone together were they free from such outrage and pain. They
+spoke little even to one another, and when they did it was of very
+unimportant matters.
+
+Both avoided any allusion to the future. To admit the possibility of a
+future seemed to them to insult his memory. Still more carefully did
+they avoid anything relating to him who was dead. It seemed to them that
+what they had lived through and experienced could not be expressed in
+words, and that any reference to the details of his life infringed the
+majesty and sacredness of the mystery that had been accomplished before
+their eyes.
+
+Continued abstention from speech, and constant avoidance of everything
+that might lead up to the subject--this halting on all sides at the
+boundary of what they might not mention--brought before their minds with
+still greater purity and clearness what they were both feeling.
+
+But pure and complete sorrow is as impossible as pure and complete joy.
+Princess Mary, in her position as absolute and independent arbiter of
+her own fate and guardian and instructor of her nephew, was the first to
+be called back to life from that realm of sorrow in which she had dwelt
+for the first fortnight. She received letters from her relations to
+which she had to reply; the room in which little Nicholas had been put
+was damp and he began to cough; Alpatych came to Yaroslavl with reports
+on the state of their affairs and with advice and suggestions that they
+should return to Moscow to the house on the Vozdvizhenka Street, which
+had remained uninjured and needed only slight repairs. Life did not
+stand still and it was necessary to live. Hard as it was for Princess
+Mary to emerge from the realm of secluded contemplation in which she had
+lived till then, and sorry and almost ashamed as she felt to leave
+Natasha alone, yet the cares of life demanded her attention and she
+involuntarily yielded to them. She went through the accounts with
+Alpatych, conferred with Dessalles about her nephew, and gave orders and
+made preparations for the journey to Moscow.
+
+Natasha remained alone and, from the time Princess Mary began making
+preparations for departure, held aloof from her too.
+
+Princess Mary asked the countess to let Natasha go with her to Moscow,
+and both parents gladly accepted this offer, for they saw their daughter
+losing strength every day and thought that a change of scene and the
+advice of Moscow doctors would be good for her.
+
+"I am not going anywhere," Natasha replied when this was proposed to
+her. "Do please just leave me alone!" And she ran out of the room, with
+difficulty refraining from tears of vexation and irritation rather than
+of sorrow.
+
+After she felt herself deserted by Princes Mary and alone in her grief,
+Natasha spent most of the time in her room by herself, sitting huddled
+up feet and all in the corner of the sofa, tearing and twisting
+something with her slender nervous fingers and gazing intently and
+fixedly at whatever her eyes chanced to fall on. This solitude exhausted
+and tormented her but she was in absolute need of it. As soon as anyone
+entered she got up quickly, changed her position and expression, and
+picked up a book or some sewing, evidently waiting impatiently for the
+intruder to go.
+
+She felt all the time as if she might at any moment penetrate that on
+which--with a terrible questioning too great for her strength--her
+spiritual gaze was fixed.
+
+One day toward the end of December Natasha, pale and thin, dressed in a
+black woolen gown, her plaited hair negligently twisted into a knot, was
+crouched feet and all in the corner of her sofa, nervously crumpling and
+smoothing out the end of her sash while she looked at a corner of the
+door.
+
+She was gazing in the direction in which he had gone--to the other side
+of life. And that other side of life, of which she had never before
+thought and which had formerly seemed to her so far away and improbable,
+was now nearer and more akin and more comprehensible than this side of
+life, where everything was either emptiness and desolation or suffering
+and indignity.
+
+She was gazing where she knew him to be; but she could not imagine him
+otherwise than as he had been here. She now saw him again as he had been
+at Mytishchi, at Troitsa, and at Yaroslavl.
+
+She saw his face, heard his voice, repeated his words and her own, and
+sometimes devised other words they might have spoken.
+
+There he is lying back in an armchair in his velvet cloak, leaning his
+head on his thin pale hand. His chest is dreadfully hollow and his
+shoulders raised. His lips are firmly closed, his eyes glitter, and a
+wrinkle comes and goes on his pale forehead. One of his legs twitches
+just perceptibly, but rapidly. Natasha knows that he is struggling with
+terrible pain. "What is that pain like? Why does he have that pain? What
+does he feel? How does it hurt him?" thought Natasha. He noticed her
+watching him, raised his eyes, and began to speak seriously:
+
+"One thing would be terrible," said he: "to bind oneself forever to a
+suffering man. It would be continual torture." And he looked searchingly
+at her. Natasha as usual answered before she had time to think what she
+would say. She said: "This can't go on--it won't. You will get well--
+quite well."
+
+She now saw him from the commencement of that scene and relived what she
+had then felt. She recalled his long sad and severe look at those words
+and understood the meaning of the rebuke and despair in that protracted
+gaze.
+
+"I agreed," Natasha now said to herself, "that it would be dreadful if
+he always continued to suffer. I said it then only because it would have
+been dreadful for him, but he understood it differently. He thought it
+would be dreadful for me. He then still wished to live and feared death.
+And I said it so awkwardly and stupidly! I did not say what I meant. I
+thought quite differently. Had I said what I thought, I should have
+said: even if he had to go on dying, to die continually before my eyes,
+I should have been happy compared with what I am now. Now there is
+nothing... nobody. Did he know that? No, he did not and never will know
+it. And now it will never, never be possible to put it right." And now
+he again seemed to be saying the same words to her, only in her
+imagination Natasha this time gave him a different answer. She stopped
+him and said: "Terrible for you, but not for me! You know that for me
+there is nothing in life but you, and to suffer with you is the greatest
+happiness for me," and he took her hand and pressed it as he had pressed
+it that terrible evening four days before his death. And in her
+imagination she said other tender and loving words which she might have
+said then but only spoke now: "I love thee!... thee! I love, love..."
+she said, convulsively pressing her hands and setting her teeth with a
+desperate effort...
+
+She was overcome by sweet sorrow and tears were already rising in her
+eyes; then she suddenly asked herself to whom she was saying this. Again
+everything was shrouded in hard, dry perplexity, and again with a
+strained frown she peered toward the world where he was. And now, now it
+seemed to her she was penetrating the mystery.... But at the instant
+when it seemed that the incomprehensible was revealing itself to her a
+loud rattle of the door handle struck painfully on her ears. Dunyasha,
+her maid, entered the room quickly and abruptly with a frightened look
+on her face and showing no concern for her mistress.
+
+"Come to your Papa at once, please!" said she with a strange, excited
+look. "A misfortune... about Peter Ilynich... a letter," she finished
+with a sob.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+Besides a feeling of aloofness from everybody Natasha was feeling a
+special estrangement from the members of her own family. All of them--
+her father, mother, and Sonya--were so near to her, so familiar, so
+commonplace, that all their words and feelings seemed an insult to the
+world in which she had been living of late, and she felt not merely
+indifferent to them but regarded them with hostility. She heard
+Dunyasha's words about Peter Ilynich and a misfortune, but did not grasp
+them.
+
+"What misfortune? What misfortune can happen to them? They just live
+their own old, quiet, and commonplace life," thought Natasha.
+
+As she entered the ballroom her father was hurriedly coming out of her
+mother's room. His face was puckered up and wet with tears. He had
+evidently run out of that room to give vent to the sobs that were
+choking him. When he saw Natasha he waved his arms despairingly and
+burst into convulsively painful sobs that distorted his soft round face.
+
+"Pe... Petya... Go, go, she... is calling..." and weeping like a child
+and quickly shuffling on his feeble legs to a chair, he almost fell into
+it, covering his face with his hands.
+
+Suddenly an electric shock seemed to run through Natasha's whole being.
+Terrible anguish struck her heart, she felt a dreadful ache as if
+something was being torn inside her and she were dying. But the pain was
+immediately followed by a feeling of release from the oppressive
+constraint that had prevented her taking part in life. The sight of her
+father, the terribly wild cries of her mother that she heard through the
+door, made her immediately forget herself and her own grief.
+
+She ran to her father, but he feebly waved his arm, pointing to her
+mother's door. Princess Mary, pale and with quivering chin, came out
+from that room and taking Natasha by the arm said something to her.
+Natasha neither saw nor heard her. She went in with rapid steps, pausing
+at the door for an instant as if struggling with herself, and then ran
+to her mother.
+
+The countess was lying in an armchair in a strange and awkward position,
+stretching out and beating her head against the wall. Sonya and the
+maids were holding her arms.
+
+"Natasha! Natasha!..." cried the countess. "It's not true... it's not
+true... He's lying... Natasha!" she shrieked, pushing those around her
+away. "Go away, all of you; it's not true! Killed!... ha, ha, ha!...
+It's not true!"
+
+Natasha put one knee on the armchair, stooped over her mother, embraced
+her, and with unexpected strength raised her, turned her face toward
+herself, and clung to her.
+
+"Mummy!... darling!... I am here, my dearest Mummy," she kept on
+whispering, not pausing an instant.
+
+She did not let go of her mother but struggled tenderly with her,
+demanded a pillow and hot water, and unfastened and tore open her
+mother's dress.
+
+"My dearest darling... Mummy, my precious!..." she whispered
+incessantly, kissing her head, her hands, her face, and feeling her own
+irrepressible and streaming tears tickling her nose and cheeks.
+
+The countess pressed her daughter's hand, closed her eyes, and became
+quiet for a moment. Suddenly she sat up with unaccustomed swiftness,
+glanced vacantly around her, and seeing Natasha began to press her
+daughter's head with all her strength. Then she turned toward her
+daughter's face which was wincing with pain and gazed long at it.
+
+"Natasha, you love me?" she said in a soft trustful whisper. "Natasha,
+you would not deceive me? You'll tell me the whole truth?"
+
+Natasha looked at her with eyes full of tears and in her look there was
+nothing but love and an entreaty for forgiveness.
+
+"My darling Mummy!" she repeated, straining all the power of her love to
+find some way of taking on herself the excess of grief that crushed her
+mother.
+
+And again in a futile struggle with reality her mother, refusing to
+believe that she could live when her beloved boy was killed in the bloom
+of life, escaped from reality into a world of delirium.
+
+Natasha did not remember how that day passed nor that night, nor the
+next day and night. She did not sleep and did not leave her mother. Her
+persevering and patient love seemed completely to surround the countess
+every moment, not explaining or consoling, but recalling her to life.
+
+During the third night the countess kept very quiet for a few minutes,
+and Natasha rested her head on the arm of her chair and closed her eyes,
+but opened them again on hearing the bedstead creak. The countess was
+sitting up in bed and speaking softly.
+
+"How glad I am you have come. You are tired. Won't you have some tea?"
+Natasha went up to her. "You have improved in looks and grown more
+manly," continued the countess, taking her daughter's hand.
+
+"Mamma! What are you saying..."
+
+"Natasha, he is no more, no more!"
+
+And embracing her daughter, the countess began to weep for the first
+time.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+Princess Mary postponed her departure. Sonya and the count tried to
+replace Natasha but could not. They saw that she alone was able to
+restrain her mother from unreasoning despair. For three weeks Natasha
+remained constantly at her mother's side, sleeping on a lounge chair in
+her room, making her eat and drink, and talking to her incessantly
+because the mere sound of her tender, caressing tones soothed her
+mother.
+
+The mother's wounded spirit could not heal. Petya's death had torn from
+her half her life. When the news of Petya's death had come she had been
+a fresh and vigorous woman of fifty, but a month later she left her room
+a listless old woman taking no interest in life. But the same blow that
+almost killed the countess, this second blow, restored Natasha to life.
+
+A spiritual wound produced by a rending of the spiritual body is like a
+physical wound and, strange as it may seem, just as a deep wound may
+heal and its edges join, physical and spiritual wounds alike can yet
+heal completely only as the result of a vital force from within.
+
+Natasha's wound healed in that way. She thought her life was ended, but
+her love for her mother unexpectedly showed her that the essence of
+life--love--was still active within her. Love awoke and so did life.
+
+Prince Andrew's last days had bound Princess Mary and Natasha together;
+this new sorrow brought them still closer to one another. Princess Mary
+put off her departure, and for three weeks looked after Natasha as if
+she had been a sick child. The last weeks passed in her mother's bedroom
+had strained Natasha's physical strength.
+
+One afternoon noticing Natasha shivering with fever, Princess Mary took
+her to her own room and made her lie down on the bed. Natasha lay down,
+but when Princess Mary had drawn the blinds and was going away she
+called her back.
+
+"I don't want to sleep, Mary, sit by me a little."
+
+"You are tired--try to sleep."
+
+"No, no. Why did you bring me away? She will be asking for me."
+
+"She is much better. She spoke so well today," said Princess Mary.
+
+Natasha lay on the bed and in the semidarkness of the room scanned
+Princess Mary's face.
+
+"Is she like him?" thought Natasha. "Yes, like and yet not like. But she
+is quite original, strange, new, and unknown. And she loves me. What is
+in her heart? All that is good. But how? What is her mind like? What
+does she think about me? Yes, she is splendid!"
+
+"Mary," she said timidly, drawing Princess Mary's hand to herself,
+"Mary, you mustn't think me wicked. No? Mary darling, how I love you!
+Let us be quite, quite friends."
+
+And Natasha, embracing her, began kissing her face and hands, making
+Princess Mary feel shy but happy by this demonstration of her feelings.
+
+From that day a tender and passionate friendship such as exists only
+between women was established between Princess Mary and Natasha. They
+were continually kissing and saying tender things to one another and
+spent most of their time together. When one went out the other became
+restless and hastened to rejoin her. Together they felt more in harmony
+with one another than either of them felt with herself when alone. A
+feeling stronger than friendship sprang up between them; an exclusive
+feeling of life being possible only in each other's presence.
+
+Sometimes they were silent for hours; sometimes after they were already
+in bed they would begin talking and go on till morning. They spoke most
+of what was long past. Princess Mary spoke of her childhood, of her
+mother, her father, and her daydreams; and Natasha, who with a passive
+lack of understanding had formerly turned away from that life of
+devotion, submission, and the poetry of Christian self-sacrifice, now
+feeling herself bound to Princess Mary by affection, learned to love her
+past too and to understand a side of life previously incomprehensible to
+her. She did not think of applying submission and self-abnegation to her
+own life, for she was accustomed to seek other joys, but she understood
+and loved in another those previously incomprehensible virtues. For
+Princess Mary, listening to Natasha's tales of childhood and early
+youth, there also opened out a new and hitherto uncomprehended side of
+life: belief in life and its enjoyment.
+
+Just as before, they never mentioned him so as not to lower (as they
+thought) their exalted feelings by words; but this silence about him had
+the effect of making them gradually begin to forget him without being
+conscious of it.
+
+Natasha had grown thin and pale and physically so weak that they all
+talked about her health, and this pleased her. But sometimes she was
+suddenly overcome by fear not only of death but of sickness, weakness,
+and loss of good looks, and involuntarily she examined her bare arm
+carefully, surprised at its thinness, and in the morning noticed her
+drawn and, as it seemed to her, piteous face in her glass. It seemed to
+her that things must be so, and yet it was dreadfully sad.
+
+One day she went quickly upstairs and found herself out of breath.
+Unconsciously she immediately invented a reason for going down, and
+then, testing her strength, ran upstairs again, observing the result.
+
+Another time when she called Dunyasha her voice trembled, so she called
+again--though she could hear Dunyasha coming--called her in the deep
+chest tones in which she had been wont to sing, and listened attentively
+to herself.
+
+She did not know and would not have believed it, but beneath the layer
+of slime that covered her soul and seemed to her impenetrable, delicate
+young shoots of grass were already sprouting, which taking root would so
+cover with their living verdure the grief that weighed her down that it
+would soon no longer be seen or noticed. The wound had begun to heal
+from within.
+
+At the end of January Princess Mary left for Moscow, and the count
+insisted on Natasha's going with her to consult the doctors.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+After the encounter at Vyazma, where Kutuzov had been unable to hold
+back his troops in their anxiety to overwhelm and cut off the enemy and
+so on, the farther movement of the fleeing French, and of the Russians
+who pursued them, continued as far as Krasnoe without a battle. The
+flight was so rapid that the Russian army pursuing the French could not
+keep up with them; cavalry and artillery horses broke down, and the
+information received of the movements of the French was never reliable.
+
+The men in the Russian army were so worn out by this continuous marching
+at the rate of twenty-seven miles a day that they could not go any
+faster.
+
+To realize the degree of exhaustion of the Russian army it is only
+necessary to grasp clearly the meaning of the fact that, while not
+losing more than five thousand killed and wounded after Tarutino and
+less than a hundred prisoners, the Russian army which left that place a
+hundred thousand strong reached Krasnoe with only fifty thousand.
+
+The rapidity of the Russian pursuit was just as destructive to our army
+as the flight of the French was to theirs. The only difference was that
+the Russian army moved voluntarily, with no such threat of destruction
+as hung over the French, and that the sick Frenchmen were left behind in
+enemy hands while the sick Russians left behind were among their own
+people. The chief cause of the wastage of Napoleon's army was the
+rapidity of its movement, and a convincing proof of this is the
+corresponding decrease of the Russian army.
+
+Kutuzov as far as was in his power, instead of trying to check the
+movement of the French as was desired in Petersburg and by the Russian
+army generals, directed his whole activity here, as he had done at
+Tarutino and Vyazma, to hastening it on while easing the movement of our
+army.
+
+But besides this, since the exhaustion and enormous diminution of the
+army caused by the rapidity of the advance had become evident, another
+reason for slackening the pace and delaying presented itself to Kutuzov.
+The aim of the Russian army was to pursue the French. The road the
+French would take was unknown, and so the closer our troops trod on
+their heels the greater distance they had to cover. Only by following at
+some distance could one cut across the zigzag path of the French. All
+the artful maneuvers suggested by our generals meant fresh movements of
+the army and a lengthening of its marches, whereas the only reasonable
+aim was to shorten those marches. To that end Kutuzov's activity was
+directed during the whole campaign from Moscow to Vilna--not casually or
+intermittently but so consistently that he never once deviated from it.
+
+Kutuzov felt and knew--not by reasoning or science but with the whole of
+his Russian being--what every Russian soldier felt: that the French were
+beaten, that the enemy was flying and must be driven out; but at the
+same time he like the soldiers realized all the hardship of this march,
+the rapidity of which was unparalleled for such a time of the year.
+
+But to the generals, especially the foreign ones in the Russian army,
+who wished to distinguish themselves, to astonish somebody, and for some
+reason to capture a king or a duke--it seemed that now--when any battle
+must be horrible and senseless--was the very time to fight and conquer
+somebody. Kutuzov merely shrugged his shoulders when one after another
+they presented projects of maneuvers to be made with those soldiers--
+ill-shod, insufficiently clad, and half starved--who within a month and
+without fighting a battle had dwindled to half their number, and who at
+the best if the flight continued would have to go a greater distance
+than they had already traversed, before they reached the frontier.
+
+This longing to distinguish themselves, to maneuver, to overthrow, and
+to cut off showed itself particularly whenever the Russians stumbled on
+the French army.
+
+So it was at Krasnoe, where they expected to find one of the three
+French columns and stumbled instead on Napoleon himself with sixteen
+thousand men. Despite all Kutuzov's efforts to avoid that ruinous
+encounter and to preserve his troops, the massacre of the broken mob of
+French soldiers by worn-out Russians continued at Krasnoe for three
+days.
+
+Toll wrote a disposition: "The first column will march to so and so,"
+etc. And as usual nothing happened in accord with the disposition.
+Prince Eugene of Wurttemberg fired from a hill over the French crowds
+that were running past, and demanded reinforcements which did not
+arrive. The French, avoiding the Russians, dispersed and hid themselves
+in the forest by night, making their way round as best they could, and
+continued their flight.
+
+Miloradovich, who said he did not want to know anything about the
+commissariat affairs of his detachment, and could never be found when he
+was wanted--that chevalier sans peur et sans reproche * as he styled
+himself--who was fond of parleys with the French, sent envoys demanding
+their surrender, wasted time, and did not do what he was ordered to do.
+
+
+* Knight without fear and without reproach.
+
+"I give you that column, lads," he said, riding up to the troops and
+pointing out the French to the cavalry.
+
+And the cavalry, with spurs and sabers urging on horses that could
+scarcely move, trotted with much effort to the column presented to them-
+-that is to say, to a crowd of Frenchmen stark with cold, frost-bitten,
+and starving--and the column that had been presented to them threw down
+its arms and surrendered as it had long been anxious to do.
+
+At Krasnoe they took twenty-six thousand prisoners, several hundred
+cannon, and a stick called a "marshal's staff," and disputed as to who
+had distinguished himself and were pleased with their achievement--
+though they much regretted not having taken Napoleon, or at least a
+marshal or a hero of some sort, and reproached one another and
+especially Kutuzov for having failed to do so.
+
+These men, carried away by their passions, were but blind tools of the
+most melancholy law of necessity, but considered themselves heroes and
+imagined that they were accomplishing a most noble and honorable deed.
+They blamed Kutuzov and said that from the very beginning of the
+campaign he had prevented their vanquishing Napoleon, that he thought of
+nothing but satisfying his passions and would not advance from the Linen
+Factories because he was comfortable there, that at Krasnoe he checked
+the advance because on learning that Napoleon was there he had quite
+lost his head, and that it was probable that he had an understanding
+with Napoleon and had been bribed by him, and so on, and so on.
+
+Not only did his contemporaries, carried away by their passions, talk in
+this way, but posterity and history have acclaimed Napoleon as grand,
+while Kutuzov is described by foreigners as a crafty, dissolute, weak
+old courtier, and by Russians as something indefinite--a sort of puppet
+useful only because he had a Russian name.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+In 1812 and 1813 Kutuzov was openly accused of blundering. The Emperor
+was dissatisfied with him. And in a history recently written by order of
+the Highest Authorities it is said that Kutuzov was a cunning court
+liar, frightened of the name of Napoleon, and that by his blunders at
+Krasnoe and the Berezina he deprived the Russian army of the glory of
+complete victory over the French. *
+
+
+* History of the year 1812. The character of Kutuzov and reflections on
+the unsatisfactory results of the battles at Krasnoe, by Bogdanovich.
+
+Such is the fate not of great men (grands hommes) whom the Russian mind
+does not acknowledge, but of those rare and always solitary individuals
+who, discerning the will of Providence, submit their personal will to
+it. The hatred and contempt of the crowd punish such men for discerning
+the higher laws.
+
+For Russian historians, strange and terrible to say, Napoleon--that most
+insignificant tool of history who never anywhere, even in exile, showed
+human dignity--Napoleon is the object of adulation and enthusiasm; he is
+grand. But Kutuzov--the man who from the beginning to the end of his
+activity in 1812, never once swerving by word or deed from Borodino to
+Vilna, presented an example exceptional in history of self-sacrifice and
+a present consciousness of the future importance of what was happening--
+Kutuzov seems to them something indefinite and pitiful, and when
+speaking of him and of the year 1812 they always seem a little ashamed.
+
+And yet it is difficult to imagine an historical character whose
+activity was so unswervingly directed to a single aim; and it would be
+difficult to imagine any aim more worthy or more consonant with the will
+of the whole people. Still more difficult would it be to find an
+instance in history of the aim of an historical personage being so
+completely accomplished as that to which all Kutuzov's efforts were
+directed in 1812.
+
+Kutuzov never talked of "forty centuries looking down from the
+Pyramids," of the sacrifices he offered for the fatherland, or of what
+he intended to accomplish or had accomplished; in general he said
+nothing about himself, adopted no pose, always appeared to be the
+simplest and most ordinary of men, and said the simplest and most
+ordinary things. He wrote letters to his daughters and to Madame de
+Stael, read novels, liked the society of pretty women, jested with
+generals, officers, and soldiers, and never contradicted those who tried
+to prove anything to him. When Count Rostopchin at the Yauza bridge
+galloped up to Kutuzov with personal reproaches for having caused the
+destruction of Moscow, and said: "How was it you promised not to abandon
+Moscow without a battle?" Kutuzov replied: "And I shall not abandon
+Moscow without a battle," though Moscow was then already abandoned. When
+Arakcheev, coming to him from the Emperor, said that Ermolov ought to be
+appointed chief of the artillery, Kutuzov replied: "Yes, I was just
+saying so myself," though a moment before he had said quite the
+contrary. What did it matter to him--who then alone amid a senseless
+crowd understood the whole tremendous significance of what was
+happening--what did it matter to him whether Rostopchin attributed the
+calamities of Moscow to him or to himself? Still less could it matter to
+him who was appointed chief of the artillery.
+
+Not merely in these cases but continually did that old man--who by
+experience of life had reached the conviction that thoughts and the
+words serving as their expression are not what move people--use quite
+meaningless words that happened to enter his head.
+
+But that man, so heedless of his words, did not once during the whole
+time of his activity utter one word inconsistent with the single aim
+toward which he moved throughout the whole war. Obviously in spite of
+himself, in very diverse circumstances, he repeatedly expressed his real
+thoughts with the bitter conviction that he would not be understood.
+Beginning with the battle of Borodino, from which time his disagreement
+with those about him began, he alone said that the battle of Borodino
+was a victory, and repeated this both verbally and in his dispatches and
+reports up to the time of his death. He alone said that the loss of
+Moscow is not the loss of Russia. In reply to Lauriston's proposal of
+peace, he said: There can be no peace, for such is the people's will. He
+alone during the retreat of the French said that all our maneuvers are
+useless, everything is being accomplished of itself better than we could
+desire; that the enemy must be offered "a golden bridge"; that neither
+the Tarutino, the Vyazma, nor the Krasnoe battles were necessary; that
+we must keep some force to reach the frontier with, and that he would
+not sacrifice a single Russian for ten Frenchmen.
+
+And this courtier, as he is described to us, who lies to Arakcheev to
+please the Emperor, he alone--incurring thereby the Emperor's
+displeasure--said in Vilna that to carry the war beyond the frontier is
+useless and harmful.
+
+Nor do words alone prove that only he understood the meaning of the
+events. His actions--without the smallest deviation--were all directed
+to one and the same threefold end: (1) to brace all his strength for
+conflict with the French, (2) to defeat them, and (3) to drive them out
+of Russia, minimizing as far as possible the sufferings of our people
+and of our army.
+
+This procrastinator Kutuzov, whose motto was "Patience and Time," this
+enemy of decisive action, gave battle at Borodino, investing the
+preparations for it with unparalleled solemnity. This Kutuzov who before
+the battle of Austerlitz began said that it would be lost, he alone, in
+contradiction to everyone else, declared till his death that Borodino
+was a victory, despite the assurance of generals that the battle was
+lost and despite the fact that for an army to have to retire after
+winning a battle was unprecedented. He alone during the whole retreat
+insisted that battles, which were useless then, should not be fought,
+and that a new war should not be begun nor the frontiers of Russia
+crossed.
+
+It is easy now to understand the significance of these events--if only
+we abstain from attributing to the activity of the mass aims that
+existed only in the heads of a dozen individuals--for the events and
+results now lie before us.
+
+But how did that old man, alone, in opposition to the general opinion,
+so truly discern the importance of the people's view of the events that
+in all his activity he was never once untrue to it?
+
+The source of that extraordinary power of penetrating the meaning of the
+events then occuring lay in the national feeling which he possessed in
+full purity and strength.
+
+Only the recognition of the fact that he possessed this feeling caused
+the people in so strange a manner, contrary to the Tsar's wish, to
+select him--an old man in disfavor--to be their representative in the
+national war. And only that feeling placed him on that highest human
+pedestal from which he, the commander-in-chief, devoted all his powers
+not to slaying and destroying men but to saving and showing pity on
+them.
+
+That simple, modest, and therefore truly great, figure could not be cast
+in the false mold of a European hero--the supposed ruler of men--that
+history has invented.
+
+To a lackey no man can be great, for a lackey has his own conception of
+greatness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+The fifth of November was the first day of what is called the battle of
+Krasnoe. Toward evening--after much disputing and many mistakes made by
+generals who did not go to their proper places, and after adjutants had
+been sent about with counterorders--when it had become plain that the
+enemy was everywhere in flight and that there could and would be no
+battle, Kutuzov left Krasnoe and went to Dobroe whither his headquarters
+had that day been transferred.
+
+The day was clear and frosty. Kutuzov rode to Dobroe on his plump little
+white horse, followed by an enormous suite of discontented generals who
+whispered among themselves behind his back. All along the road groups of
+French prisoners captured that day (there were seven thousand of them)
+were crowding to warm themselves at campfires. Near Dobroe an immense
+crowd of tattered prisoners, buzzing with talk and wrapped and bandaged
+in anything they had been able to get hold of, were standing in the road
+beside a long row of unharnessed French guns. At the approach of the
+commander-in-chief the buzz of talk ceased and all eyes were fixed on
+Kutuzov who, wearing a white cap with a red band and a padded overcoat
+that bulged on his round shoulders, moved slowly along the road on his
+white horse. One of the generals was reporting to him where the guns and
+prisoners had been captured.
+
+Kutuzov seemed preoccupied and did not listen to what the general was
+saying. He screwed up his eyes with a dissatisfied look as he gazed
+attentively and fixedly at these prisoners, who presented a specially
+wretched appearance. Most of them were disfigured by frost-bitten noses
+and cheeks, and nearly all had red, swollen and festering eyes.
+
+One group of the French stood close to the road, and two of them, one of
+whom had his face covered with sores, were tearing a piece of raw flesh
+with their hands. There was something horrible and bestial in the
+fleeting glance they threw at the riders and in the malevolent
+expression with which, after a glance at Kutuzov, the soldier with the
+sores immediately turned away and went on with what he was doing.
+
+Kutuzov looked long and intently at these two soldiers. He puckered his
+face, screwed up his eyes, and pensively swayed his head. At another
+spot he noticed a Russian soldier laughingly patting a Frenchman on the
+shoulder, saying something to him in a friendly manner, and Kutuzov with
+the same expression on his face again swayed his head.
+
+"What were you saying?" he asked the general, who continuing his report
+directed the commander-in-chief's attention to some standards captured
+from the French and standing in front of the Preobrazhensk regiment.
+
+"Ah, the standards!" said Kutuzov, evidently detaching himself with
+difficulty from the thoughts that preoccupied him.
+
+He looked about him absently. Thousands of eyes were looking at him from
+all sides awaiting a word from him.
+
+He stopped in front of the Preobrazhensk regiment, sighed deeply, and
+closed his eyes. One of his suite beckoned to the soldiers carrying the
+standards to advance and surround the commander-in-chief with them.
+Kutuzov was silent for a few seconds and then, submitting with evident
+reluctance to the duty imposed by his position, raised his head and
+began to speak. A throng of officers surrounded him. He looked
+attentively around at the circle of officers, recognizing several of
+them.
+
+"I thank you all!" he said, addressing the soldiers and then again the
+officers. In the stillness around him his slowly uttered words were
+distinctly heard. "I thank you all for your hard and faithful service.
+The victory is complete and Russia will not forget you! Honor to you
+forever."
+
+He paused and looked around.
+
+"Lower its head, lower it!" he said to a soldier who had accidentally
+lowered the French eagle he was holding before the Preobrazhensk
+standards. "Lower, lower, that's it. Hurrah lads!" he added, addressing
+the men with a rapid movement of his chin.
+
+"Hur-r-rah!" roared thousands of voices.
+
+While the soldiers were shouting Kutuzov leaned forward in his saddle
+and bowed his head, and his eye lit up with a mild and apparently ironic
+gleam.
+
+"You see, brothers..." said he when the shouts had ceased... and all at
+once his voice and the expression of his face changed. It was no longer
+the commander-in-chief speaking but an ordinary old man who wanted to
+tell his comrades something very important.
+
+There was a stir among the throng of officers and in the ranks of the
+soldiers, who moved that they might hear better what he was going to
+say.
+
+"You see, brothers, I know it's hard for you, but it can't be helped!
+Bear up; it won't be for long now! We'll see our visitors off and then
+we'll rest. The Tsar won't forget your service. It is hard for you, but
+still you are at home while they--you see what they have come to," said
+he, pointing to the prisoners. "Worse off than our poorest beggars.
+While they were strong we didn't spare ourselves, but now we may even
+pity them. They are human beings too. Isn't it so, lads?"
+
+He looked around, and in the direct, respectful, wondering gaze fixed
+upon him he read sympathy with what he had said. His face grew brighter
+and brighter with an old man's mild smile, which drew the corners of his
+lips and eyes into a cluster of wrinkles. He ceased speaking and bowed
+his head as if in perplexity.
+
+"But after all who asked them here? Serves them right, the bloody
+bastards!" he cried, suddenly lifting his head.
+
+And flourishing his whip he rode off at a gallop for the first time
+during the whole campaign, and left the broken ranks of the soldiers
+laughing joyfully and shouting "Hurrah!"
+
+Kutuzov's words were hardly understood by the troops. No one could have
+repeated the field marshal's address, begun solemnly and then changing
+into an old man's simplehearted talk; but the hearty sincerity of that
+speech, the feeling of majestic triumph combined with pity for the foe
+and consciousness of the justice of our cause, exactly expressed by that
+old man's good-natured expletives, was not merely understood but lay in
+the soul of every soldier and found expression in their joyous and long-
+sustained shouts. Afterwards when one of the generals addressed Kutuzov
+asking whether he wished his caleche to be sent for, Kutuzov in
+answering unexpectedly gave a sob, being evidently greatly moved.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+When the troops reached their night's halting place on the eighth of
+November, the last day of the Krasnoe battles, it was already growing
+dusk. All day it had been calm and frosty with occasional lightly
+falling snow and toward evening it began to clear. Through the falling
+snow a purple-black and starry sky showed itself and the frost grew
+keener.
+
+An infantry regiment which had left Tarutino three thousand strong but
+now numbered only nine hundred was one of the first to arrive that night
+at its halting place--a village on the highroad. The quartermasters who
+met the regiment announced that all the huts were full of sick and dead
+Frenchmen, cavalrymen, and members of the staff. There was only one hut
+available for the regimental commander.
+
+The commander rode up to his hut. The regiment passed through the
+village and stacked its arms in front of the last huts.
+
+Like some huge many-limbed animal, the regiment began to prepare its
+lair and its food. One part of it dispersed and waded knee-deep through
+the snow into a birch forest to the right of the village, and
+immediately the sound of axes and swords, the crashing of branches, and
+merry voices could be heard from there. Another section amid the
+regimental wagons and horses which were standing in a group was busy
+getting out caldrons and rye biscuit, and feeding the horses. A third
+section scattered through the village arranging quarters for the staff
+officers, carrying out the French corpses that were in the huts, and
+dragging away boards, dry wood, and thatch from the roofs, for the
+campfires, or wattle fences to serve for shelter.
+
+Some fifteen men with merry shouts were shaking down the high wattle
+wall of a shed, the roof of which had already been removed.
+
+"Now then, all together--shove!" cried the voices, and the huge surface
+of the wall, sprinkled with snow and creaking with frost, was seen
+swaying in the gloom of the night. The lower stakes cracked more and
+more and at last the wall fell, and with it the men who had been pushing
+it. Loud, coarse laughter and joyous shouts ensued.
+
+"Now then, catch hold in twos! Hand up the lever! That's it... Where are
+you shoving to?"
+
+"Now, all together! But wait a moment, boys... With a song!"
+
+All stood silent, and a soft, pleasant velvety voice began to sing. At
+the end of the third verse as the last note died away, twenty voices
+roared out at once: "Oo-oo-oo-oo! That's it. All together! Heave away,
+boys!..." but despite their united efforts the wattle hardly moved, and
+in the silence that followed the heavy breathing of the men was audible.
+
+"Here, you of the Sixth Company! Devils that you are! Lend a hand...
+will you? You may want us one of these days."
+
+Some twenty men of the Sixth Company who were on their way into the
+village joined the haulers, and the wattle wall, which was about thirty-
+five feet long and seven feet high, moved forward along the village
+street, swaying, pressing upon and cutting the shoulders of the gasping
+men.
+
+"Get along... Falling? What are you stopping for? There now..."
+
+Merry senseless words of abuse flowed freely.
+
+"What are you up to?" suddenly came the authoritative voice of a
+sergeant major who came upon the men who were hauling their burden.
+"There are gentry here; the general himself is in that hut, and you
+foul-mouthed devils, you brutes, I'll give it to you!" shouted he,
+hitting the first man who came in his way a swinging blow on the back.
+"Can't you make less noise?"
+
+The men became silent. The soldier who had been struck groaned and wiped
+his face, which had been scratched till it bled by his falling against
+the wattle.
+
+"There, how that devil hits out! He's made my face all bloody," said he
+in a frightened whisper when the sergeant major had passed on.
+
+"Don't you like it?" said a laughing voice, and moderating their tones
+the men moved forward.
+
+When they were out of the village they began talking again as loud as
+before, interlarding their talk with the same aimless expletives.
+
+In the hut which the men had passed, the chief officers had gathered and
+were in animated talk over their tea about the events of the day and the
+maneuvers suggested for tomorrow. It was proposed to make a flank march
+to the left, cut off the Vice-King (Murat) and capture him.
+
+By the time the soldiers had dragged the wattle fence to its place the
+campfires were blazing on all sides ready for cooking, the wood
+crackled, the snow was melting, and black shadows of soldiers flitted to
+and fro all over the occupied space where the snow had been trodden
+down.
+
+Axes and choppers were plied all around. Everything was done without any
+orders being given. Stores of wood were brought for the night, shelters
+were rigged up for the officers, caldrons were being boiled, and muskets
+and accouterments put in order.
+
+The wattle wall the men had brought was set up in a semicircle by the
+Eighth Company as a shelter from the north, propped up by musket rests,
+and a campfire was built before it. They beat the tattoo, called the
+roll, had supper, and settled down round the fires for the night--some
+repairing their footgear, some smoking pipes, and some stripping
+themselves naked to steam the lice out of their shirts.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+One would have thought that under the almost incredibly wretched
+conditions the Russian soldiers were in at that time--lacking warm boots
+and sheepskin coats, without a roof over their heads, in the snow with
+eighteen degrees of frost, and without even full rations (the
+commissariat did not always keep up with the troops)--they would have
+presented a very sad and depressing spectacle.
+
+On the contrary, the army had never under the best material conditions
+presented a more cheerful and animated aspect. This was because all who
+began to grow depressed or who lost strength were sifted out of the army
+day by day. All the physically or morally weak had long since been left
+behind and only the flower of the army--physically and mentally--
+remained.
+
+More men collected behind the wattle fence of the Eighth Company than
+anywhere else. Two sergeants major were sitting with them and their
+campfire blazed brighter than others. For leave to sit by their wattle
+they demanded contributions of fuel.
+
+"Eh, Makeev! What has become of you, you son of a bitch? Are you lost or
+have the wolves eaten you? Fetch some more wood!" shouted a red-haired
+and red-faced man, screwing up his eyes and blinking because of the
+smoke but not moving back from the fire. "And you, Jackdaw, go and fetch
+some wood!" said he to another soldier.
+
+This red-haired man was neither a sergeant nor a corporal, but being
+robust he ordered about those weaker than himself. The soldier they
+called "Jackdaw," a thin little fellow with a sharp nose, rose
+obediently and was about to go but at that instant there came into the
+light of the fire the slender, handsome figure of a young soldier
+carrying a load of wood.
+
+"Bring it here--that's fine!"
+
+They split up the wood, pressed it down on the fire, blew at it with
+their mouths, and fanned it with the skirts of their greatcoats, making
+the flames hiss and crackle. The men drew nearer and lit their pipes.
+The handsome young soldier who had brought the wood, setting his arms
+akimbo, began stamping his cold feet rapidly and deftly on the spot
+where he stood.
+
+"Mother! The dew is cold but clear.... It's well that I'm a
+musketeer..." he sang, pretending to hiccough after each syllable.
+
+"Look out, your soles will fly off!" shouted the red-haired man,
+noticing that the sole of the dancer's boot was hanging loose. "What a
+fellow you are for dancing!"
+
+The dancer stopped, pulled off the loose piece of leather, and threw it
+on the fire.
+
+"Right enough, friend," said he, and, having sat down, took out of his
+knapsack a scrap of blue French cloth, and wrapped it round his foot.
+"It's the steam that spoils them," he added, stretching out his feet
+toward the fire.
+
+"They'll soon be issuing us new ones. They say that when we've finished
+hammering them, we're to receive double kits!"
+
+"And that son of a bitch Petrov has lagged behind after all, it seems,"
+said one sergeant major.
+
+"I've had an eye on him this long while," said the other.
+
+"Well, he's a poor sort of soldier..."
+
+"But in the Third Company they say nine men were missing yesterday."
+
+"Yes, it's all very well, but when a man's feet are frozen how can he
+walk?"
+
+"Eh? Don't talk nonsense!" said a sergeant major.
+
+"Do you want to be doing the same?" said an old soldier, turning
+reproachfully to the man who had spoken of frozen feet.
+
+"Well, you know," said the sharp-nosed man they called Jackdaw in a
+squeaky and unsteady voice, raising himself at the other side of the
+fire, "a plump man gets thin, but for a thin one it's death. Take me,
+now! I've got no strength left," he added, with sudden resolution
+turning to the sergeant major. "Tell them to send me to hospital; I'm
+aching all over; anyway I shan't be able to keep up."
+
+"That'll do, that'll do!" replied the sergeant major quietly.
+
+The soldier said no more and the talk went on.
+
+"What a lot of those Frenchies were taken today, and the fact is that
+not one of them had what you might call real boots on," said a soldier,
+starting a new theme. "They were no more than make-believes."
+
+"The Cossacks have taken their boots. They were clearing the hut for the
+colonel and carried them out. It was pitiful to see them, boys," put in
+the dancer. "As they turned them over one seemed still alive and, would
+you believe it, he jabbered something in their lingo."
+
+"But they're a clean folk, lads," the first man went on; "he was white--
+as white as birchbark--and some of them are such fine fellows, you might
+think they were nobles."
+
+"Well, what do you think? They make soldiers of all classes there."
+
+"But they don't understand our talk at all," said the dancer with a
+puzzled smile. "I asked him whose subject he was, and he jabbered in his
+own way. A queer lot!"
+
+"But it's strange, friends," continued the man who had wondered at their
+whiteness, "the peasants at Mozhaysk were saying that when they began
+burying the dead--where the battle was you know--well, those dead had
+been lying there for nearly a month, and says the peasant, 'they lie as
+white as paper, clean, and not as much smell as a puff of powder
+smoke.'"
+
+"Was it from the cold?" asked someone.
+
+"You're a clever fellow! From the cold indeed! Why, it was hot. If it
+had been from the cold, ours would not have rotted either. 'But,' he
+says, 'go up to ours and they are all rotten and maggoty. So,' he says,
+'we tie our faces up with kerchiefs and turn our heads away as we drag
+them off: we can hardly do it. But theirs,' he says, 'are white as paper
+and not so much smell as a whiff of gunpowder.'"
+
+All were silent.
+
+"It must be from their food," said the sergeant major. "They used to
+gobble the same food as the gentry."
+
+No one contradicted him.
+
+"That peasant near Mozhaysk where the battle was said the men were all
+called up from ten villages around and they carted for twenty days and
+still didn't finish carting the dead away. And as for the wolves, he
+says..."
+
+"That was a real battle," said an old soldier. "It's the only one worth
+remembering; but since that... it's only been tormenting folk."
+
+"And do you know, Daddy, the day before yesterday we ran at them and, my
+word, they didn't let us get near before they just threw down their
+muskets and went on their knees. 'Pardon!' they say. That's only one
+case. They say Platov took 'Poleon himself twice. But he didn't know the
+right charm. He catches him and catches him--no good! He turns into a
+bird in his hands and flies away. And there's no way of killing him
+either."
+
+"You're a first-class liar, Kiselev, when I come to look at you!"
+
+"Liar, indeed! It's the real truth."
+
+"If he fell into my hands, when I'd caught him I'd bury him in the
+ground with an aspen stake to fix him down. What a lot of men he's
+ruined!"
+
+"Well, anyhow we're going to end it. He won't come here again," remarked
+the old soldier, yawning.
+
+The conversation flagged, and the soldiers began settling down to sleep.
+
+"Look at the stars. It's wonderful how they shine! You would think the
+women had spread out their linen," said one of the men, gazing with
+admiration at the Milky Way.
+
+"That's a sign of a good harvest next year."
+
+"We shall want some more wood."
+
+"You warm your back and your belly gets frozen. That's queer."
+
+"O Lord!"
+
+"What are you pushing for? Is the fire only for you? Look how he's
+sprawling!"
+
+In the silence that ensued, the snoring of those who had fallen asleep
+could be heard. Others turned over and warmed themselves, now and again
+exchanging a few words. From a campfire a hundred paces off came a sound
+of general, merry laughter.
+
+"Hark at them roaring there in the Fifth Company!" said one of the
+soldiers, "and what a lot of them there are!"
+
+One of the men got up and went over to the Fifth Company.
+
+"They're having such fun," said he, coming back. "Two Frenchies have
+turned up. One's quite frozen and the other's an awful swaggerer. He's
+singing songs...."
+
+"Oh, I'll go across and have a look...."
+
+And several of the men went over to the Fifth Company.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+The fifth company was bivouacking at the very edge of the forest. A huge
+campfire was blazing brightly in the midst of the snow, lighting up the
+branches of trees heavy with hoarfrost.
+
+About midnight they heard the sound of steps in the snow of the forest,
+and the crackling of dry branches.
+
+"A bear, lads," said one of the men.
+
+They all raised their heads to listen, and out of the forest into the
+bright firelight stepped two strangely clad human figures clinging to
+one another.
+
+These were two Frenchmen who had been hiding in the forest. They came up
+to the fire, hoarsely uttering something in a language our soldiers did
+not understand. One was taller than the other; he wore an officer's hat
+and seemed quite exhausted. On approaching the fire he had been going to
+sit down, but fell. The other, a short sturdy soldier with a shawl tied
+round his head, was stronger. He raised his companion and said
+something, pointing to his mouth. The soldiers surrounded the Frenchmen,
+spread a greatcoat on the ground for the sick man, and brought some
+buckwheat porridge and vodka for both of them.
+
+The exhausted French officer was Ramballe and the man with his head
+wrapped in the shawl was Morel, his orderly.
+
+When Morel had drunk some vodka and finished his bowl of porridge he
+suddenly became unnaturally merry and chattered incessantly to the
+soldiers, who could not understand him. Ramballe refused food and
+resting his head on his elbow lay silent beside the campfire, looking at
+the Russian soldiers with red and vacant eyes. Occasionally he emitted a
+long-drawn groan and then again became silent. Morel, pointing to his
+shoulders, tried to impress on the soldiers the fact that Ramballe was
+an officer and ought to be warmed. A Russian officer who had come up to
+the fire sent to ask his colonel whether he would not take a French
+officer into his hut to warm him, and when the messenger returned and
+said that the colonel wished the officer to be brought to him, Ramballe
+was told to go. He rose and tried to walk, but staggered and would have
+fallen had not a soldier standing by held him up.
+
+"You won't do it again, eh?" said one of the soldiers, winking and
+turning mockingly to Ramballe.
+
+"Oh, you fool! Why talk rubbish, lout that you are--a real peasant!"
+came rebukes from all sides addressed to the jesting soldier.
+
+They surrounded Ramballe, lifted him on the crossed arms of two
+soldiers, and carried him to the hut. Ramballe put his arms around their
+necks while they carried him and began wailing plaintively:
+
+"Oh, you fine fellows, my kind, kind friends! These are men! Oh, my
+brave, kind friends," and he leaned his head against the shoulder of one
+of the men like a child.
+
+Meanwhile Morel was sitting in the best place by the fire, surrounded by
+the soldiers.
+
+Morel, a short sturdy Frenchman with inflamed and streaming eyes, was
+wearing a woman's cloak and had a shawl tied woman fashion round his
+head over his cap. He was evidently tipsy, and was singing a French song
+in a hoarse broken voice, with an arm thrown round the nearest soldier.
+The soldiers simply held their sides as they watched him.
+
+"Now then, now then, teach us how it goes! I'll soon pick it up. How is
+it?" said the man--a singer and a wag--whom Morel was embracing.
+
+"Vive Henri Quatre! Vive ce roi valiant!" sang Morel, winking. "Ce
+diable a quatre..." *
+
+
+* "Long live Henry the Fourth, that valiant king! That rowdy devil."
+
+"Vivarika! Vif-seruvaru! Sedyablyaka!" repeated the soldier, flourishing
+his arm and really catching the tune.
+
+"Bravo! Ha, ha, ha!" rose their rough, joyous laughter from all sides.
+
+Morel, wrinkling up his face, laughed too.
+
+"Well, go on, go on!"
+
+
+"Qui eut le triple talent, De boire, de battre, Et d'etre un vert
+galant." *
+
+
+* Who had a triple talent For drinking, for fighting, And for being a
+gallant old boy...
+
+"It goes smoothly, too. Well, now, Zaletaev!"
+
+"Ke..." Zaletaev, brought out with effort: "ke-e-e-e," he drawled,
+laboriously pursing his lips, "le-trip-ta-la-de-bu-de-ba, e de-tra-va-
+ga-la" he sang.
+
+"Fine! Just like the Frenchie! Oh, ho ho! Do you want some more to eat?"
+
+"Give him some porridge: it takes a long time to get filled up after
+starving."
+
+They gave him some more porridge and Morel with a laugh set to work on
+his third bowl. All the young soldiers smiled gaily as they watched him.
+The older men, who thought it undignified to amuse themselves with such
+nonsense, continued to lie at the opposite side of the fire, but one
+would occasionally raise himself on an elbow and glance at Morel with a
+smile.
+
+"They are men too," said one of them as he wrapped himself up in his
+coat. "Even wormwood grows on its own root."
+
+"O Lord, O Lord! How starry it is! Tremendous! That means a hard
+frost...."
+
+They all grew silent. The stars, as if knowing that no one was looking
+at them, began to disport themselves in the dark sky: now flaring up,
+now vanishing, now trembling, they were busy whispering something
+gladsome and mysterious to one another.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+The French army melted away at the uniform rate of a mathematical
+progression; and that crossing of the Berezina about which so much has
+been written was only one intermediate stage in its destruction, and not
+at all the decisive episode of the campaign. If so much has been and
+still is written about the Berezina, on the French side this is only
+because at the broken bridge across that river the calamities their army
+had been previously enduring were suddenly concentrated at one moment
+into a tragic spectacle that remained in every memory, and on the
+Russian side merely because in Petersburg--far from the seat of war--a
+plan (again one of Pfuel's) had been devised to catch Napoleon in a
+strategic trap at the Berezina River. Everyone assured himself that all
+would happen according to plan, and therefore insisted that it was just
+the crossing of the Berezina that destroyed the French army. In reality
+the results of the crossing were much less disastrous to the French--in
+guns and men lost--than Krasnoe had been, as the figures show.
+
+The sole importance of the crossing of the Berezina lies in the fact
+that it plainly and indubitably proved the fallacy of all the plans for
+cutting off the enemy's retreat and the soundness of the only possible
+line of action--the one Kutuzov and the general mass of the army
+demanded--namely, simply to follow the enemy up. The French crowd fled
+at a continually increasing speed and all its energy was directed to
+reaching its goal. It fled like a wounded animal and it was impossible
+to block its path. This was shown not so much by the arrangements it
+made for crossing as by what took place at the bridges. When the bridges
+broke down, unarmed soldiers, people from Moscow and women with children
+who were with the French transport, all--carried on by vis inertiae--
+pressed forward into boats and into the ice-covered water and did not,
+surrender.
+
+That impulse was reasonable. The condition of fugitives and of pursuers
+was equally bad. As long as they remained with their own people each
+might hope for help from his fellows and the definite place he held
+among them. But those who surrendered, while remaining in the same
+pitiful plight, would be on a lower level to claim a share in the
+necessities of life. The French did not need to be informed of the fact
+that half the prisoners--with whom the Russians did not know what to do-
+-perished of cold and hunger despite their captors' desire to save them;
+they felt that it could not be otherwise. The most compassionate Russian
+commanders, those favorable to the French--and even the Frenchmen in the
+Russian service--could do nothing for the prisoners. The French perished
+from the conditions to which the Russian army was itself exposed. It was
+impossible to take bread and clothes from our hungry and indispensable
+soldiers to give to the French who, though not harmful, or hated, or
+guilty, were simply unnecessary. Some Russians even did that, but they
+were exceptions.
+
+Certain destruction lay behind the French but in front there was hope.
+Their ships had been burned, there was no salvation save in collective
+flight, and on that the whole strength of the French was concentrated.
+
+The farther they fled the more wretched became the plight of the
+remnant, especially after the Berezina, on which (in consequence of the
+Petersburg plan) special hopes had been placed by the Russians, and the
+keener grew the passions of the Russian commanders, who blamed one
+another and Kutuzov most of all. Anticipation that the failure of the
+Petersburg Berezina plan would be attributed to Kutuzov led to
+dissatisfaction, contempt, and ridicule, more and more strongly
+expressed. The ridicule and contempt were of course expressed in a
+respectful form, making it impossible for him to ask wherein he was to
+blame. They did not talk seriously to him; when reporting to him or
+asking for his sanction they appeared to be fulfilling a regrettable
+formality, but they winked behind his back and tried to mislead him at
+every turn.
+
+Because they could not understand him all these people assumed that it
+was useless to talk to the old man; that he would never grasp the
+profundity of their plans, that he would answer with his phrases (which
+they thought were mere phrases) about a "golden bridge," about the
+impossibility of crossing the frontier with a crowd of tatterdemalions,
+and so forth. They had heard all that before. And all he said--that it
+was necessary to await provisions, or that the men had no boots--was so
+simple, while what they proposed was so complicated and clever, that it
+was evident that he was old and stupid and that they, though not in
+power, were commanders of genius.
+
+After the junction with the army of the brilliant admiral and Petersburg
+hero Wittgenstein, this mood and the gossip of the staff reached their
+maximum. Kutuzov saw this and merely sighed and shrugged his shoulders.
+Only once, after the affair of the Berezina, did he get angry and write
+to Bennigsen (who reported separately to the Emperor) the following
+letter:
+
+"On account of your spells of ill health, will your excellency please be
+so good as to set off for Kaluga on receipt of this, and there await
+further commands and appointments from His Imperial Majesty."
+
+But after Bennigsen's departure, the Grand Duke Tsarevich Constantine
+Pavlovich joined the army. He had taken part in the beginning of the
+campaign but had subsequently been removed from the army by Kutuzov. Now
+having come to the army, he informed Kutuzov of the Emperor's
+displeasure at the poor success of our forces and the slowness of their
+advance. The Emperor intended to join the army personally in a few days'
+time.
+
+The old man, experienced in court as well as in military affairs--this
+same Kutuzov who in August had been chosen commander-in-chief against
+the sovereign's wishes and who had removed the Grand Duke and heir--
+apparent from the army--who on his own authority and contrary to the
+Emperor's will had decided on the abandonment of Moscow, now realized at
+once that his day was over, that his part was played, and that the power
+he was supposed to hold was no longer his. And he understood this not
+merely from the attitude of the court. He saw on the one hand that the
+military business in which he had played his part was ended and felt
+that his mission was accomplished; and at the same time he began to be
+conscious of the physical weariness of his aged body and of the
+necessity of physical rest.
+
+On the twenty-ninth of November Kutuzov entered Vilna--his "dear Vilna"
+as he called it. Twice during his career Kutuzov had been governor of
+Vilna. In that wealthy town, which had not been injured, he found old
+friends and associations, besides the comforts of life of which he had
+so long been deprived. And he suddenly turned from the cares of army and
+state and, as far as the passions that seethed around him allowed,
+immersed himself in the quiet life to which he had formerly been
+accustomed, as if all that was taking place and all that had still to be
+done in the realm of history did not concern him at all.
+
+Chichagov, one of the most zealous "cutters-off" and "breakers-up," who
+had first wanted to effect a diversion in Greece and then in Warsaw but
+never wished to go where he was sent: Chichagov, noted for the boldness
+with which he spoke to the Emperor, and who considered Kutuzov to be
+under an obligation to him because when he was sent to make peace with
+Turkey in 1811 independently of Kutuzov, and found that peace had
+already been concluded, he admitted to the Emperor that the merit of
+securing that peace was really Kutuzov's; this Chichagov was the first
+to meet Kutuzov at the castle where the latter was to stay. In undress
+naval uniform, with a dirk, and holding his cap under his arm, he handed
+Kutuzov a garrison report and the keys of the town. The contemptuously
+respectful attitude of the younger men to the old man in his dotage was
+expressed in the highest degree by the behavior of Chichagov, who knew
+of the accusations that were being directed against Kutuzov.
+
+When speaking to Chichagov, Kutuzov incidentally mentioned that the
+vehicles packed with china that had been captured from him at Borisov
+had been recovered and would be restored to him.
+
+"You mean to imply that I have nothing to eat out of.... On the
+contrary, I can supply you with everything even if you want to give
+dinner parties," warmly replied Chichagov, who tried by every word he
+spoke to prove his own rectitude and therefore imagined Kutuzov to be
+animated by the same desire.
+
+Kutuzov, shrugging his shoulders, replied with his subtle penetrating
+smile: "I meant merely to say what I said."
+
+Contrary to the Emperor's wish Kutuzov detained the greater part of the
+army at Vilna. Those about him said that he became extraordinarily slack
+and physically feeble during his stay in that town. He attended to army
+affairs reluctantly, left everything to his generals, and while awaiting
+the Emperor's arrival led a dissipated life.
+
+Having left Petersburg on the seventh of December with his suite--Count
+Tolstoy, Prince Volkonski, Arakcheev, and others--the Emperor reached
+Vilna on the eleventh, and in his traveling sleigh drove straight to the
+castle. In spite of the severe frost some hundred generals and staff
+officers in full parade uniform stood in front of the castle, as well as
+a guard of honor of the Semenov regiment.
+
+A courier who galloped to the castle in advance, in a troyka with three
+foam-flecked horses, shouted "Coming!" and Konovnitsyn rushed into the
+vestibule to inform Kutuzov, who was waiting in the hall porter's little
+lodge.
+
+A minute later the old man's large stout figure in full-dress uniform,
+his chest covered with orders and a scarf drawn round his stomach,
+waddled out into the porch. He put on his hat with its peaks to the
+sides and, holding his gloves in his hand and walking with an effort
+sideways down the steps to the level of the street, took in his hand the
+report he had prepared for the Emperor.
+
+There was running to and fro and whispering; another troyka flew
+furiously up, and then all eyes were turned on an approaching sleigh in
+which the figures of the Emperor and Volkonski could already be
+descried.
+
+From the habit of fifty years all this had a physically agitating effect
+on the old general. He carefully and hastily felt himself all over,
+readjusted his hat, and pulling himself together drew himself up and, at
+the very moment when the Emperor, having alighted from the sleigh,
+lifted his eyes to him, handed him the report and began speaking in his
+smooth, ingratiating voice.
+
+The Emperor with a rapid glance scanned Kutuzov from head to foot,
+frowned for an instant, but immediately mastering himself went up to the
+old man, extended his arms and embraced him. And this embrace too, owing
+to a long-standing impression related to his innermost feelings, had its
+usual effect on Kutuzov and he gave a sob.
+
+The Emperor greeted the officers and the Semenov guard, and again
+pressing the old man's hand went with him into the castle.
+
+When alone with the field marshal the Emperor expressed his
+dissatisfaction at the slowness of the pursuit and at the mistakes made
+at Krasnoe and the Berezina, and informed him of his intentions for a
+future campaign abroad. Kutuzov made no rejoinder or remark. The same
+submissive, expressionless look with which he had listened to the
+Emperor's commands on the field of Austerlitz seven years before settled
+on his face now.
+
+When Kutuzov came out of the study and with lowered head was crossing
+the ballroom with his heavy waddling gait, he was arrested by someone's
+voice saying:
+
+"Your Serene Highness!"
+
+Kutuzov raised his head and looked for a long while into the eyes of
+Count Tolstoy, who stood before him holding a silver salver on which lay
+a small object. Kutuzov seemed not to understand what was expected of
+him.
+
+Suddenly he seemed to remember; a scarcely perceptible smile flashed
+across his puffy face, and bowing low and respectfully he took the
+object that lay on the salver. It was the Order of St. George of the
+First Class.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+Next day the field marshal gave a dinner and ball which the Emperor
+honored by his presence. Kutuzov had received the Order of St. George of
+the First Class and the Emperor showed him the highest honors, but
+everyone knew of the imperial dissatisfaction with him. The proprieties
+were observed and the Emperor was the first to set that example, but
+everybody understood that the old man was blameworthy and good-for-
+nothing. When Kutuzov, conforming to a custom of Catherine's day,
+ordered the standards that had been captured to be lowered at the
+Emperor's feet on his entering the ballroom, the Emperor made a wry face
+and muttered something in which some people caught the words, "the old
+comedian."
+
+The Emperor's displeasure with Kutuzov was specially increased at Vilna
+by the fact that Kutuzov evidently could not or would not understand the
+importance of the coming campaign.
+
+When on the following morning the Emperor said to the officers assembled
+about him: "You have not only saved Russia, you have saved Europe!" they
+all understood that the war was not ended.
+
+Kutuzov alone would not see this and openly expressed his opinion that
+no fresh war could improve the position or add to the glory of Russia,
+but could only spoil and lower the glorious position that Russia had
+gained. He tried to prove to the Emperor the impossibility of levying
+fresh troops, spoke of the hardships already endured by the people, of
+the possibility of failure and so forth.
+
+This being the field marshal's frame of mind he was naturally regarded
+as merely a hindrance and obstacle to the impending war.
+
+To avoid unpleasant encounters with the old man, the natural method was
+to do what had been done with him at Austerlitz and with Barclay at the
+beginning of the Russian campaign--to transfer the authority to the
+Emperor himself, thus cutting the ground from under the commander in
+chief's feet without upsetting the old man by informing him of the
+change.
+
+With this object his staff was gradually reconstructed and its real
+strength removed and transferred to the Emperor. Toll, Konovnitsyn, and
+Ermolov received fresh appointments. Everyone spoke loudly of the field
+marshal's great weakness and failing health.
+
+His health had to be bad for his place to be taken away and given to
+another. And in fact his health was poor.
+
+So naturally, simply, and gradually--just as he had come from Turkey to
+the Treasury in Petersburg to recruit the militia, and then to the army
+when he was needed there--now when his part was played out, Kutuzov's
+place was taken by a new and necessary performer.
+
+The war of 1812, besides its national significance dear to every Russian
+heart, was now to assume another, a European, significance.
+
+The movement of peoples from west to east was to be succeeded by a
+movement of peoples from east to west, and for this fresh war another
+leader was necessary, having qualities and views differing from
+Kutuzov's and animated by different motives.
+
+Alexander I was as necessary for the movement of the peoples from east
+to west and for the refixing of national frontiers as Kutuzov had been
+for the salvation and glory of Russia.
+
+Kutuzov did not understand what Europe, the balance of power, or
+Napoleon meant. He could not understand it. For the representative of
+the Russian people, after the enemy had been destroyed and Russia had
+been liberated and raised to the summit of her glory, there was nothing
+left to do as a Russian. Nothing remained for the representative of the
+national war but to die, and Kutuzov died.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+As generally happens, Pierre did not feel the full effects of the
+physical privation and strain he had suffered as prisoner until after
+they were over. After his liberation he reached Orel, and on the third
+day there, when preparing to go to Kiev, he fell ill and was laid up for
+three months. He had what the doctors termed "bilious fever." But
+despite the fact that the doctors treated him, bled him, and gave him
+medicines to drink, he recovered.
+
+Scarcely any impression was left on Pierre's mind by all that happened
+to him from the time of his rescue till his illness. He remembered only
+the dull gray weather now rainy and now snowy, internal physical
+distress, and pains in his feet and side. He remembered a general
+impression of the misfortunes and sufferings of people and of being
+worried by the curiosity of officers and generals who questioned him, he
+also remembered his difficulty in procuring a conveyance and horses, and
+above all he remembered his incapacity to think and feel all that time.
+On the day of his rescue he had seen the body of Petya Rostov. That same
+day he had learned that Prince Andrew, after surviving the battle of
+Borodino for more than a month had recently died in the Rostovs' house
+at Yaroslavl, and Denisov who told him this news also mentioned Helene's
+death, supposing that Pierre had heard of it long before. All this at
+the time seemed merely strange to Pierre: he felt he could not grasp its
+significance. Just then he was only anxious to get away as quickly as
+possible from places where people were killing one another, to some
+peaceful refuge where he could recover himself, rest, and think over all
+the strange new facts he had learned; but on reaching Orel he
+immediately fell ill. When he came to himself after his illness he saw
+in attendance on him two of his servants, Terenty and Vaska, who had
+come from Moscow; and also his cousin the eldest princess, who had been
+living on his estate at Elets and hearing of his rescue and illness had
+come to look after him.
+
+It was only gradually during his convalescence that Pierre lost the
+impressions he had become accustomed to during the last few months and
+got used to the idea that no one would oblige him to go anywhere
+tomorrow, that no one would deprive him of his warm bed, and that he
+would be sure to get his dinner, tea, and supper. But for a long time in
+his dreams he still saw himself in the conditions of captivity. In the
+same way little by little he came to understand the news he had been
+told after his rescue, about the death of Prince Andrew, the death of
+his wife, and the destruction of the French.
+
+A joyous feeling of freedom--that complete inalienable freedom natural
+to man which he had first experienced at the first halt outside Moscow--
+filled Pierre's soul during his convalescence. He was surprised to find
+that this inner freedom, which was independent of external conditions,
+now had as it were an additional setting of external liberty. He was
+alone in a strange town, without acquaintances. No one demanded anything
+of him or sent him anywhere. He had all he wanted: the thought of his
+wife which had been a continual torment to him was no longer there,
+since she was no more.
+
+"Oh, how good! How splendid!" said he to himself when a cleanly laid
+table was moved up to him with savory beef tea, or when he lay down for
+the night on a soft clean bed, or when he remembered that the French had
+gone and that his wife was no more. "Oh, how good, how splendid!"
+
+And by old habit he asked himself the question: "Well, and what then?
+What am I going to do?" And he immediately gave himself the answer:
+"Well, I shall live. Ah, how splendid!"
+
+The very question that had formerly tormented him, the thing he had
+continually sought to find--the aim of life--no longer existed for him
+now. That search for the aim of life had not merely disappeared
+temporarily--he felt that it no longer existed for him and could not
+present itself again. And this very absence of an aim gave him the
+complete, joyous sense of freedom which constituted his happiness at
+this time.
+
+He could not see an aim, for he now had faith--not faith in any kind of
+rule, or words, or ideas, but faith in an ever-living, ever-manifest
+God. Formerly he had sought Him in aims he set himself. That search for
+an aim had been simply a search for God, and suddenly in his captivity
+he had learned not by words or reasoning but by direct feeling what his
+nurse had told him long ago: that God is here and everywhere. In his
+captivity he had learned that in Karataev God was greater, more infinite
+and unfathomable than in the Architect of the Universe recognized by the
+Freemasons. He felt like a man who after straining his eyes to see into
+the far distance finds what he sought at his very feet. All his life he
+had looked over the heads of the men around him, when he should have
+merely looked in front of him without straining his eyes.
+
+In the past he had never been able to find that great inscrutable
+infinite something. He had only felt that it must exist somewhere and
+had looked for it. In everything near and comprehensible he had only
+what was limited, petty, commonplace, and senseless. He had equipped
+himself with a mental telescope and looked into remote space, where
+petty worldliness hiding itself in misty distance had seemed to him
+great and infinite merely because it was not clearly seen. And such had
+European life, politics, Freemasonry, philosophy, and philanthropy
+seemed to him. But even then, at moments of weakness as he had accounted
+them, his mind had penetrated to those distances and he had there seen
+the same pettiness, worldliness, and senselessness. Now, however, he had
+learned to see the great, eternal, and infinite in everything, and
+therefore--to see it and enjoy its contemplation--he naturally threw
+away the telescope through which he had till now gazed over men's heads,
+and gladly regarded the ever-changing, eternally great, unfathomable,
+and infinite life around him. And the closer he looked the more tranquil
+and happy he became. That dreadful question, "What for?" which had
+formerly destroyed all his mental edifices, no longer existed for him.
+To that question, "What for?" a simple answer was now always ready in
+his soul: "Because there is a God, that God without whose will not one
+hair falls from a man's head."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+In external ways Pierre had hardly changed at all. In appearance he was
+just what he used to be. As before he was absent-minded and seemed
+occupied not with what was before his eyes but with something special of
+his own. The difference between his former and present self was that
+formerly when he did not grasp what lay before him or was said to him,
+he had puckered his forehead painfully as if vainly seeking to
+distinguish something at a distance. At present he still forgot what was
+said to him and still did not see what was before his eyes, but he now
+looked with a scarcely perceptible and seemingly ironic smile at what
+was before him and listened to what was said, though evidently seeing
+and hearing something quite different. Formerly he had appeared to be a
+kindhearted but unhappy man, and so people had been inclined to avoid
+him. Now a smile at the joy of life always played round his lips, and
+sympathy for others, shone in his eyes with a questioning look as to
+whether they were as contented as he was, and people felt pleased by his
+presence.
+
+Previously he had talked a great deal, grew excited when he talked, and
+seldom listened; now he was seldom carried away in conversation and knew
+how to listen so that people readily told him their most intimate
+secrets.
+
+The princess, who had never liked Pierre and had been particularly
+hostile to him since she had felt herself under obligations to him after
+the old count's death, now after staying a short time in Orel--where she
+had come intending to show Pierre that in spite of his ingratitude she
+considered it her duty to nurse him--felt to her surprise and vexation
+that she had become fond of him. Pierre did not in any way seek her
+approval, he merely studied her with interest. Formerly she had felt
+that he regarded her with indifference and irony, and so had shrunk into
+herself as she did with others and had shown him only the combative side
+of her nature; but now he seemed to be trying to understand the most
+intimate places of her heart, and, mistrustfully at first but afterwards
+gratefully, she let him see the hidden, kindly sides of her character.
+
+The most cunning man could not have crept into her confidence more
+successfully, evoking memories of the best times of her youth and
+showing sympathy with them. Yet Pierre's cunning consisted simply in
+finding pleasure in drawing out the human qualities of the embittered,
+hard, and (in her own way) proud princess.
+
+"Yes, he is a very, very kind man when he is not under the influence of
+bad people but of people such as myself," thought she.
+
+His servants too--Terenty and Vaska--in their own way noticed the change
+that had taken place in Pierre. They considered that he had become much
+"simpler." Terenty, when he had helped him undress and wished him good
+night, often lingered with his master's boots in his hands and clothes
+over his arm, to see whether he would not start a talk. And Pierre,
+noticing that Terenty wanted a chat, generally kept him there.
+
+"Well, tell me... now, how did you get food?" he would ask.
+
+And Terenty would begin talking of the destruction of Moscow, and of the
+old count, and would stand for a long time holding the clothes and
+talking, or sometimes listening to Pierre's stories, and then would go
+out into the hall with a pleasant sense of intimacy with his master and
+affection for him.
+
+The doctor who attended Pierre and visited him every day, though he
+considered it his duty as a doctor to pose as a man whose every moment
+was of value to suffering humanity, would sit for hours with Pierre
+telling him his favorite anecdotes and his observations on the
+characters of his patients in general, and especially of the ladies.
+
+"It's a pleasure to talk to a man like that; he is not like our
+provincials," he would say.
+
+There were several prisoners from the French army in Orel, and the
+doctor brought one of them, a young Italian, to see Pierre.
+
+This officer began visiting Pierre, and the princess used to make fun of
+the tenderness the Italian expressed for him.
+
+The Italian seemed happy only when he could come to see Pierre, talk
+with him, tell him about his past, his life at home, and his love, and
+pour out to him his indignation against the French and especially
+against Napoleon.
+
+"If all Russians are in the least like you, it is sacrilege to fight
+such a nation," he said to Pierre. "You, who have suffered so from the
+French, do not even feel animosity toward them."
+
+Pierre had evoked the passionate affection of the Italian merely by
+evoking the best side of his nature and taking a pleasure in so doing.
+
+During the last days of Pierre's stay in Orel his old masonic
+acquaintance Count Willarski, who had introduced him to the lodge in
+1807, came to see him. Willarski was married to a Russian heiress who
+had a large estate in Orel province, and he occupied a temporary post in
+the commissariat department in that town.
+
+Hearing that Bezukhov was in Orel, Willarski, though they had never been
+intimate, came to him with the professions of friendship and intimacy
+that people who meet in a desert generally express for one another.
+Willarski felt dull in Orel and was pleased to meet a man of his own
+circle and, as he supposed, of similar interests.
+
+But to his surprise Willarski soon noticed that Pierre had lagged much
+behind the times, and had sunk, as he expressed it to himself, into
+apathy and egotism.
+
+"You are letting yourself go, my dear fellow," he said.
+
+But for all that Willarski found it pleasanter now than it had been
+formerly to be with Pierre, and came to see him every day. To Pierre as
+he looked at and listened to Willarski, it seemed strange to think that
+he had been like that himself but a short time before.
+
+Willarski was a married man with a family, busy with his family affairs,
+his wife's affairs, and his official duties. He regarded all these
+occupations as hindrances to life, and considered that they were all
+contemptible because their aim was the welfare of himself and his
+family. Military, administrative, political, and masonic interests
+continually absorbed his attention. And Pierre, without trying to change
+the other's views and without condemning him, but with the quiet,
+joyful, and amused smile now habitual to him, was interested in this
+strange though very familiar phenomenon.
+
+There was a new feature in Pierre's relations with Willarski, with the
+princess, with the doctor, and with all the people he now met, which
+gained for him the general good will. This was his acknowledgment of the
+impossibility of changing a man's convictions by words, and his
+recognition of the possibility of everyone thinking, feeling, and seeing
+things each from his own point of view. This legitimate peculiarity of
+each individual which used to excite and irritate Pierre now became a
+basis of the sympathy he felt for, and the interest he took in, other
+people. The difference, and sometimes complete contradiction, between
+men's opinions and their lives, and between one man and another, pleased
+him and drew from him an amused and gentle smile.
+
+In practical matters Pierre unexpectedly felt within himself a center of
+gravity he had previously lacked. Formerly all pecuniary questions,
+especially requests for money to which, as an extremely wealthy man, he
+was very exposed, produced in him a state of hopeless agitation and
+perplexity. "To give or not to give?" he had asked himself. "I have it
+and he needs it. But someone else needs it still more. Who needs it
+most? And perhaps they are both impostors?" In the old days he had been
+unable to find a way out of all these surmises and had given to all who
+asked as long as he had anything to give. Formerly he had been in a
+similar state of perplexity with regard to every question concerning his
+property, when one person advised one thing and another something else.
+
+Now to his surprise he found that he no longer felt either doubt or
+perplexity about these questions. There was now within him a judge who
+by some rule unknown to him decided what should or should not be done.
+
+He was as indifferent as heretofore to money matters, but now he felt
+certain of what ought and what ought not to be done. The first time he
+had recourse to his new judge was when a French prisoner, a colonel,
+came to him and, after talking a great deal about his exploits,
+concluded by making what amounted to a demand that Pierre should give
+him four thousand francs to send to his wife and children. Pierre
+refused without the least difficulty or effort, and was afterwards
+surprised how simple and easy had been what used to appear so
+insurmountably difficult. At the same time that he refused the colonel's
+demand he made up his mind that he must have recourse to artifice when
+leaving Orel, to induce the Italian officer to accept some money of
+which he was evidently in need. A further proof to Pierre of his own
+more settled outlook on practical matters was furnished by his decision
+with regard to his wife's debts and to the rebuilding of his houses in
+and near Moscow.
+
+His head steward came to him at Orel and Pierre reckoned up with him his
+diminished income. The burning of Moscow had cost him, according to the
+head steward's calculation, about two million rubles.
+
+To console Pierre for these losses the head steward gave him an estimate
+showing that despite these losses his income would not be diminished but
+would even be increased if he refused to pay his wife's debts which he
+was under no obligation to meet, and did not rebuild his Moscow house
+and the country house on his Moscow estate, which had cost him eighty
+thousand rubles a year and brought in nothing.
+
+"Yes, of course that's true," said Pierre with a cheerful smile. "I
+don't need all that at all. By being ruined I have become much richer."
+
+But in January Savelich came from Moscow and gave him an account of the
+state of things there, and spoke of the estimate an architect had made
+of the cost of rebuilding the town and country houses, speaking of this
+as of a settled matter. About the same time he received letters from
+Prince Vasili and other Petersburg acquaintances speaking of his wife's
+debts. And Pierre decided that the steward's proposals which had so
+pleased him were wrong and that he must go to Petersburg and settle his
+wife's affairs and must rebuild in Moscow. Why this was necessary he did
+not know, but he knew for certain that it was necessary. His income
+would be reduced by three fourths, but he felt it must be done.
+
+Willarski was going to Moscow and they agreed to travel together.
+
+During the whole time of his convalescence in Orel Pierre had
+experienced a feeling of joy, freedom, and life; but when during his
+journey he found himself in the open world and saw hundreds of new
+faces, that feeling was intensified. Throughout his journey he felt like
+a schoolboy on holiday. Everyone--the stagecoach driver, the post-house
+overseers, the peasants on the roads and in the villages--had a new
+significance for him. The presence and remarks of Willarski who
+continually deplored the ignorance and poverty of Russia and its
+backwardness compared with Europe only heightened Pierre's pleasure.
+Where Willarski saw deadness Pierre saw an extraordinary strength and
+vitality--the strength which in that vast space amid the snows
+maintained the life of this original, peculiar, and unique people. He
+did not contradict Willarski and even seemed to agree with him--an
+apparent agreement being the simplest way to avoid discussions that
+could lead to nothing--and he smiled joyfully as he listened to him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+It would be difficult to explain why and whither ants whose heap has
+been destroyed are hurrying: some from the heap dragging bits of
+rubbish, larvae, and corpses, others back to the heap, or why they
+jostle, overtake one another, and fight, and it would be equally
+difficult to explain what caused the Russians after the departure of the
+French to throng to the place that had formerly been Moscow. But when we
+watch the ants round their ruined heap, the tenacity, energy, and
+immense number of the delving insects prove that despite the destruction
+of the heap, something indestructible, which though intangible is the
+real strength of the colony, still exists; and similarly, though in
+Moscow in the month of October there was no government and no churches,
+shrines, riches, or houses--it was still the Moscow it had been in
+August. All was destroyed, except something intangible yet powerful and
+indestructible.
+
+The motives of those who thronged from all sides to Moscow after it had
+been cleared of the enemy were most diverse and personal, and at first
+for the most part savage and brutal. One motive only they all had in
+common: a desire to get to the place that had been called Moscow, to
+apply their activities there.
+
+Within a week Moscow already had fifteen thousand inhabitants, in a
+fortnight twenty-five thousand, and so on. By the autumn of 1813 the
+number, ever increasing and increasing, exceeded what it had been in
+1812.
+
+The first Russians to enter Moscow were the Cossacks of Wintzingerode's
+detachment, peasants from the adjacent villages, and residents who had
+fled from Moscow and had been hiding in its vicinity. The Russians who
+entered Moscow, finding it plundered, plundered it in their turn. They
+continued what the French had begun. Trains of peasant carts came to
+Moscow to carry off to the villages what had been abandoned in the
+ruined houses and the streets. The Cossacks carried off what they could
+to their camps, and the householders seized all they could find in other
+houses and moved it to their own, pretending that it was their property.
+
+But the first plunderers were followed by a second and a third
+contingent, and with increasing numbers plundering became more and more
+difficult and assumed more definite forms.
+
+The French found Moscow abandoned but with all the organizations of
+regular life, with diverse branches of commerce and craftsmanship, with
+luxury, and governmental and religious institutions. These forms were
+lifeless but still existed. There were bazaars, shops, warehouses,
+market stalls, granaries--for the most part still stocked with goods--
+and there were factories and workshops, palaces and wealthy houses
+filled with luxuries, hospitals, prisons, government offices, churches,
+and cathedrals. The longer the French remained the more these forms of
+town life perished, until finally all was merged into one confused,
+lifeless scene of plunder.
+
+The more the plundering by the French continued, the more both the
+wealth of Moscow and the strength of its plunderers was destroyed. But
+plundering by the Russians, with which the reoccupation of the city
+began, had an opposite effect: the longer it continued and the greater
+the number of people taking part in it the more rapidly was the wealth
+of the city and its regular life restored.
+
+Besides the plunderers, very various people, some drawn by curiosity,
+some by official duties, some by self-interest--house owners, clergy,
+officials of all kinds, tradesmen, artisans, and peasants--streamed into
+Moscow as blood flows to the heart.
+
+Within a week the peasants who came with empty carts to carry off
+plunder were stopped by the authorities and made to cart the corpses out
+of the town. Other peasants, having heard of their comrades'
+discomfiture, came to town bringing rye, oats, and hay, and beat down
+one another's prices to below what they had been in former days. Gangs
+of carpenters hoping for high pay arrived in Moscow every day, and on
+all sides logs were being hewn, new houses built, and old, charred ones
+repaired. Tradesmen began trading in booths. Cookshops and taverns were
+opened in partially burned houses. The clergy resumed the services in
+many churches that had not been burned. Donors contributed Church
+property that had been stolen. Government clerks set up their baize-
+covered tables and their pigeonholes of documents in small rooms. The
+higher authorities and the police organized the distribution of goods
+left behind by the French. The owners of houses in which much property
+had been left, brought there from other houses, complained of the
+injustice of taking everything to the Faceted Palace in the Kremlin;
+others insisted that as the French had gathered things from different
+houses into this or that house, it would be unfair to allow its owner to
+keep all that was found there. They abused the police and bribed them,
+made out estimates at ten times their value for government stores that
+had perished in the fire, and demanded relief. And Count Rostopchin
+wrote proclamations.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+At the end of January Pierre went to Moscow and stayed in an annex of
+his house which had not been burned. He called on Count Rostopchin and
+on some acquaintances who were back in Moscow, and he intended to leave
+for Petersburg two days later. Everybody was celebrating the victory,
+everything was bubbling with life in the ruined but reviving city.
+Everyone was pleased to see Pierre, everyone wished to meet him, and
+everyone questioned him about what he had seen. Pierre felt particularly
+well disposed toward them all, but was now instinctively on his guard
+for fear of binding himself in any way. To all questions put to him--
+whether important or quite trifling--such as: Where would he live? Was
+he going to rebuild? When was he going to Petersburg and would he mind
+taking a parcel for someone?--he replied: "Yes, perhaps," or, "I think
+so," and so on.
+
+He had heard that the Rostovs were at Kostroma but the thought of
+Natasha seldom occurred to him. If it did it was only as a pleasant
+memory of the distant past. He felt himself not only free from social
+obligations but also from that feeling which, it seemed to him, he had
+aroused in himself.
+
+On the third day after his arrival he heard from the Drubetskoys that
+Princess Mary was in Moscow. The death, sufferings, and last days of
+Prince Andrew had often occupied Pierre's thoughts and now recurred to
+him with fresh vividness. Having heard at dinner that Princess Mary was
+in Moscow and living in her house--which had not been burned--in
+Vozdvizhenka Street, he drove that same evening to see her.
+
+On his way to the house Pierre kept thinking of Prince Andrew, of their
+friendship, of his various meetings with him, and especially of the last
+one at Borodino.
+
+"Is it possible that he died in the bitter frame of mind he was then in?
+Is it possible that the meaning of life was not disclosed to him before
+he died?" thought Pierre. He recalled Karataev and his death and
+involuntarily began to compare these two men, so different, and yet so
+similar in that they had both lived and both died and in the love he
+felt for both of them.
+
+Pierre drove up to the house of the old prince in a most serious mood.
+The house had escaped the fire; it showed signs of damage but its
+general aspect was unchanged. The old footman, who met Pierre with a
+stern face as if wishing to make the visitor feel that the absence of
+the old prince had not disturbed the order of things in the house,
+informed him that the princess had gone to her own apartments, and that
+she received on Sundays.
+
+"Announce me. Perhaps she will see me," said Pierre.
+
+"Yes, sir," said the man. "Please step into the portrait gallery."
+
+A few minutes later the footman returned with Dessalles, who brought
+word from the princess that she would be very glad to see Pierre if he
+would excuse her want of ceremony and come upstairs to her apartment.
+
+In a rather low room lit by one candle sat the princess and with her
+another person dressed in black. Pierre remembered that the princess
+always had lady companions, but who they were and what they were like he
+never knew or remembered. "This must be one of her companions," he
+thought, glancing at the lady in the black dress.
+
+The princess rose quickly to meet him and held out her hand.
+
+"Yes," she said, looking at his altered face after he had kissed her
+hand, "so this is how we meet again. He spoke of you even at the very
+last," she went on, turning her eyes from Pierre to her companion with a
+shyness that surprised him for an instant.
+
+"I was so glad to hear of your safety. It was the first piece of good
+news we had received for a long time."
+
+Again the princess glanced round at her companion with even more
+uneasiness in her manner and was about to add something, but Pierre
+interrupted her.
+
+"Just imagine--I knew nothing about him!" said he. "I thought he had
+been killed. All I know I heard at second hand from others. I only know
+that he fell in with the Rostovs.... What a strange coincidence!"
+
+Pierre spoke rapidly and with animation. He glanced once at the
+companion's face, saw her attentive and kindly gaze fixed on him, and,
+as often happens when one is talking, felt somehow that this companion
+in the black dress was a good, kind, excellent creature who would not
+hinder his conversing freely with Princess Mary.
+
+But when he mentioned the Rostovs, Princess Mary's face expressed still
+greater embarrassment. She again glanced rapidly from Pierre's face to
+that of the lady in the black dress and said:
+
+"Do you really not recognize her?"
+
+Pierre looked again at the companion's pale, delicate face with its
+black eyes and peculiar mouth, and something near to him, long forgotten
+and more than sweet, looked at him from those attentive eyes.
+
+"But no, it can't be!" he thought. "This stern, thin, pale face that
+looks so much older! It cannot be she. It merely reminds me of her." But
+at that moment Princess Mary said, "Natasha!" And with difficulty,
+effort, and stress, like the opening of a door grown rusty on its
+hinges, a smile appeared on the face with the attentive eyes, and from
+that opening door came a breath of fragrance which suffused Pierre with
+a happiness he had long forgotten and of which he had not even been
+thinking--especially at that moment. It suffused him, seized him, and
+enveloped him completely. When she smiled doubt was no longer possible,
+it was Natasha and he loved her.
+
+At that moment Pierre involuntarily betrayed to her, to Princess Mary,
+and above all to himself, a secret of which he himself had been unaware.
+He flushed joyfully yet with painful distress. He tried to hide his
+agitation. But the more he tried to hide it the more clearly--clearer
+than any words could have done--did he betray to himself, to her, and to
+Princess Mary that he loved her.
+
+"No, it's only the unexpectedness of it," thought Pierre. But as soon as
+he tried to continue the conversation he had begun with Princess Mary he
+again glanced at Natasha, and a still-deeper flush suffused his face and
+a still-stronger agitation of mingled joy and fear seized his soul. He
+became confused in his speech and stopped in the middle of what he was
+saying.
+
+Pierre had failed to notice Natasha because he did not at all expect to
+see her there, but he had failed to recognize her because the change in
+her since he last saw her was immense. She had grown thin and pale, but
+that was not what made her unrecognizable; she was unrecognizable at the
+moment he entered because on that face whose eyes had always shone with
+a suppressed smile of the joy of life, now when he first entered and
+glanced at her there was not the least shadow of a smile: only her eyes
+were kindly attentive and sadly interrogative.
+
+Pierre's confusion was not reflected by any confusion on Natasha's part,
+but only by the pleasure that just perceptibly lit up her whole face.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+"She has come to stay with me," said Princess Mary. "The count and
+countess will be here in a few days. The countess is in a dreadful
+state; but it was necessary for Natasha herself to see a doctor. They
+insisted on her coming with me."
+
+"Yes, is there a family free from sorrow now?" said Pierre, addressing
+Natasha. "You know it happened the very day we were rescued. I saw him.
+What a delightful boy he was!"
+
+Natasha looked at him, and by way of answer to his words her eyes
+widened and lit up.
+
+"What can one say or think of as a consolation?" said Pierre. "Nothing!
+Why had such a splendid boy, so full of life, to die?"
+
+"Yes, in these days it would be hard to live without faith..." remarked
+Princess Mary.
+
+"Yes, yes, that is really true," Pierre hastily interrupted her.
+
+"Why is it true?" Natasha asked, looking attentively into Pierre's eyes.
+
+"How can you ask why?" said Princess Mary. "The thought alone of what
+awaits..."
+
+Natasha without waiting for Princess Mary to finish again looked
+inquiringly at Pierre.
+
+"And because," Pierre continued, "only one who believes that there is a
+God ruling us can bear a loss such as hers and... yours."
+
+Natasha had already opened her mouth to speak but suddenly stopped.
+Pierre hurriedly turned away from her and again addressed Princess Mary,
+asking about his friend's last days.
+
+Pierre's confusion had now almost vanished, but at the same time he felt
+that his freedom had also completely gone. He felt that there was now a
+judge of his every word and action whose judgment mattered more to him
+than that of all the rest of the world. As he spoke now he was
+considering what impression his words would make on Natasha. He did not
+purposely say things to please her, but whatever he was saying he
+regarded from her standpoint.
+
+Princess Mary--reluctantly as is usual in such cases--began telling of
+the condition in which she had found Prince Andrew. But Pierre's face
+quivering with emotion, his questions and his eager restless expression,
+gradually compelled her to go into details which she feared to recall
+for her own sake.
+
+"Yes, yes, and so...?" Pierre kept saying as he leaned toward her with
+his whole body and eagerly listened to her story. "Yes, yes... so he
+grew tranquil and softened? With all his soul he had always sought one
+thing--to be perfectly good--so he could not be afraid of death. The
+faults he had--if he had any--were not of his making. So he did
+soften?... What a happy thing that he saw you again," he added, suddenly
+turning to Natasha and looking at her with eyes full of tears.
+
+Natasha's face twitched. She frowned and lowered her eyes for a moment.
+She hesitated for an instant whether to speak or not.
+
+"Yes, that was happiness," she then said in her quiet voice with its
+deep chest notes. "For me it certainly was happiness." She paused. "And
+he... he... he said he was wishing for it at the very moment I entered
+the room...."
+
+Natasha's voice broke. She blushed, pressed her clasped hands on her
+knees, and then controlling herself with an evident effort lifted her
+head and began to speak rapidly.
+
+"We knew nothing of it when we started from Moscow. I did not dare to
+ask about him. Then suddenly Sonya told me he was traveling with us. I
+had no idea and could not imagine what state he was in, all I wanted was
+to see him and be with him," she said, trembling, and breathing quickly.
+
+And not letting them interrupt her she went on to tell what she had
+never yet mentioned to anyone--all she had lived through during those
+three weeks of their journey and life at Yaroslavl.
+
+Pierre listened to her with lips parted and eyes fixed upon her full of
+tears. As he listened he did not think of Prince Andrew, nor of death,
+nor of what she was telling. He listened to her and felt only pity for
+her, for what she was suffering now while she was speaking.
+
+Princess Mary, frowning in her effort to hold back her tears, sat beside
+Natasha, and heard for the first time the story of those last days of
+her brother's and Natasha's love.
+
+Evidently Natasha needed to tell that painful yet joyful tale.
+
+She spoke, mingling most trifling details with the intimate secrets of
+her soul, and it seemed as if she could never finish. Several times she
+repeated the same thing twice.
+
+Dessalles' voice was heard outside the door asking whether little
+Nicholas might come in to say good night.
+
+"Well, that's all--everything," said Natasha.
+
+She got up quickly just as Nicholas entered, almost ran to the door
+which was hidden by curtains, struck her head against it, and rushed
+from the room with a moan either of pain or sorrow.
+
+Pierre gazed at the door through which she had disappeared and did not
+understand why he suddenly felt all alone in the world.
+
+Princess Mary roused him from his abstraction by drawing his attention
+to her nephew who had entered the room.
+
+At that moment of emotional tenderness young Nicholas' face, which
+resembled his father's, affected Pierre so much that when he had kissed
+the boy he got up quickly, took out his handkerchief, and went to the
+window. He wished to take leave of Princess Mary, but she would not let
+him go.
+
+"No, Natasha and I sometimes don't go to sleep till after two, so please
+don't go. I will order supper. Go downstairs, we will come immediately."
+
+Before Pierre left the room Princess Mary told him: "This is the first
+time she has talked of him like that."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+Pierre was shown into the large, brightly lit dining room; a few minutes
+later he heard footsteps and Princess Mary entered with Natasha. Natasha
+was calm, though a severe and grave expression had again settled on her
+face. They all three of them now experienced that feeling of awkwardness
+which usually follows after a serious and heartfelt talk. It is
+impossible to go back to the same conversation, to talk of trifles is
+awkward, and yet the desire to speak is there and silence seems like
+affectation. They went silently to table. The footmen drew back the
+chairs and pushed them up again. Pierre unfolded his cold table napkin
+and, resolving to break the silence, looked at Natasha and at Princess
+Mary. They had evidently both formed the same resolution; the eyes of
+both shone with satisfaction and a confession that besides sorrow life
+also has joy.
+
+"Do you take vodka, Count?" asked Princess Mary, and those words
+suddenly banished the shadows of the past. "Now tell us about yourself,"
+said she. "One hears such improbable wonders about you."
+
+"Yes," replied Pierre with the smile of mild irony now habitual to him.
+"They even tell me wonders I myself never dreamed of! Mary Abramovna
+invited me to her house and kept telling me what had happened, or ought
+to have happened, to me. Stepan Stepanych also instructed me how I ought
+to tell of my experiences. In general I have noticed that it is very
+easy to be an interesting man (I am an interesting man now); people
+invite me out and tell me all about myself."
+
+Natasha smiled and was on the point of speaking.
+
+"We have been told," Princess Mary interrupted her, "that you lost two
+millions in Moscow. Is that true?"
+
+"But I am three times as rich as before," returned Pierre.
+
+Though the position was now altered by his decision to pay his wife's
+debts and to rebuild his houses, Pierre still maintained that he had
+become three times as rich as before.
+
+"What I have certainly gained is freedom," he began seriously, but did
+not continue, noticing that this theme was too egotistic.
+
+"And are you building?"
+
+"Yes. Savelich says I must!"
+
+"Tell me, you did not know of the countess' death when you decided to
+remain in Moscow?" asked Princess Mary and immediately blushed, noticing
+that her question, following his mention of freedom, ascribed to his
+words a meaning he had perhaps not intended.
+
+"No," answered Pierre, evidently not considering awkward the meaning
+Princess Mary had given to his words. "I heard of it in Orel and you
+cannot imagine how it shocked me. We were not an exemplary couple," he
+added quickly, glancing at Natasha and noticing on her face curiosity as
+to how he would speak of his wife, "but her death shocked me terribly.
+When two people quarrel they are always both in fault, and one's own
+guilt suddenly becomes terribly serious when the other is no longer
+alive. And then such a death... without friends and without consolation!
+I am very, very sorry for her," he concluded, and was pleased to notice
+a look of glad approval on Natasha's face.
+
+"Yes, and so you are once more an eligible bachelor," said Princess
+Mary.
+
+Pierre suddenly flushed crimson and for a long time tried not to look at
+Natasha. When he ventured to glance her way again her face was cold,
+stern, and he fancied even contemptuous.
+
+"And did you really see and speak to Napoleon, as we have been told?"
+said Princess Mary.
+
+Pierre laughed.
+
+"No, not once! Everybody seems to imagine that being taken prisoner
+means being Napoleon's guest. Not only did I never see him but I heard
+nothing about him--I was in much lower company!"
+
+Supper was over, and Pierre who at first declined to speak about his
+captivity was gradually led on to do so.
+
+"But it's true that you remained in Moscow to kill Napoleon?" Natasha
+asked with a slight smile. "I guessed it then when we met at the
+Sukharev tower, do you remember?"
+
+Pierre admitted that it was true, and from that was gradually led by
+Princess Mary's questions and especially by Natasha's into giving a
+detailed account of his adventures.
+
+At first he spoke with the amused and mild irony now customary with him
+toward everybody and especially toward himself, but when he came to
+describe the horrors and sufferings he had witnessed he was
+unconsciously carried away and began speaking with the suppressed
+emotion of a man re-experiencing in recollection strong impressions he
+has lived through.
+
+Princess Mary with a gentle smile looked now at Pierre and now at
+Natasha. In the whole narrative she saw only Pierre and his goodness.
+Natasha, leaning on her elbow, the expression of her face constantly
+changing with the narrative, watched Pierre with an attention that never
+wandered--evidently herself experiencing all that he described. Not only
+her look, but her exclamations and the brief questions she put, showed
+Pierre that she understood just what he wished to convey. It was clear
+that she understood not only what he said but also what he wished to,
+but could not, express in words. The account Pierre gave of the incident
+with the child and the woman for protecting whom he was arrested was
+this: "It was an awful sight--children abandoned, some in the flames...
+One was snatched out before my eyes... and there were women who had
+their things snatched off and their earrings torn out..." he flushed and
+grew confused. "Then a patrol arrived and all the men--all those who
+were not looting, that is--were arrested, and I among them."
+
+"I am sure you're not telling us everything; I am sure you did
+something..." said Natasha and pausing added, "something fine?"
+
+Pierre continued. When he spoke of the execution he wanted to pass over
+the horrible details, but Natasha insisted that he should not omit
+anything.
+
+Pierre began to tell about Karataev, but paused. By this time he had
+risen from the table and was pacing the room, Natasha following him with
+her eyes. Then he added:
+
+"No, you can't understand what I learned from that illiterate man--that
+simple fellow."
+
+"Yes, yes, go on!" said Natasha. "Where is he?"
+
+"They killed him almost before my eyes."
+
+And Pierre, his voice trembling continually, went on to tell of the last
+days of their retreat, of Karataev's illness and his death.
+
+He told of his adventures as he had never yet recalled them. He now, as
+it were, saw a new meaning in all he had gone through. Now that he was
+telling it all to Natasha he experienced that pleasure which a man has
+when women listen to him--not clever women who when listening either try
+to remember what they hear to enrich their minds and when opportunity
+offers to retell it, or who wish to adopt it to some thought of their
+own and promptly contribute their own clever comments prepared in their
+little mental workshop--but the pleasure given by real women gifted with
+a capacity to select and absorb the very best a man shows of himself.
+Natasha without knowing it was all attention: she did not lose a word,
+no single quiver in Pierre's voice, no look, no twitch of a muscle in
+his face, nor a single gesture. She caught the unfinished word in its
+flight and took it straight into her open heart, divining the secret
+meaning of all Pierre's mental travail.
+
+Princess Mary understood his story and sympathized with him, but she now
+saw something else that absorbed all her attention. She saw the
+possibility of love and happiness between Natasha and Pierre, and the
+first thought of this filled her heart with gladness.
+
+It was three o'clock in the morning. The footmen came in with sad and
+stern faces to change the candles, but no one noticed them.
+
+Pierre finished his story. Natasha continued to look at him intently
+with bright, attentive, and animated eyes, as if trying to understand
+something more which he had perhaps left untold. Pierre in shamefaced
+and happy confusion glanced occasionally at her, and tried to think what
+to say next to introduce a fresh subject. Princess Mary was silent. It
+occurred to none of them that it was three o'clock and time to go to
+bed.
+
+"People speak of misfortunes and sufferings," remarked Pierre, "but if
+at this moment I were asked: 'Would you rather be what you were before
+you were taken prisoner, or go through all this again?' then for
+heaven's sake let me again have captivity and horseflesh! We imagine
+that when we are thrown out of our usual ruts all is lost, but it is
+only then that what is new and good begins. While there is life there is
+happiness. There is much, much before us. I say this to you," he added,
+turning to Natasha.
+
+"Yes, yes," she said, answering something quite different. "I too should
+wish nothing but to relive it all from the beginning."
+
+Pierre looked intently at her.
+
+"Yes, and nothing more," said Natasha.
+
+"It's not true, not true!" cried Pierre. "I am not to blame for being
+alive and wishing to live--nor you either."
+
+Suddenly Natasha bent her head, covered her face with her hands, and
+began to cry.
+
+"What is it, Natasha?" said Princess Mary.
+
+"Nothing, nothing." She smiled at Pierre through her tears. "Good night!
+It is time for bed."
+
+Pierre rose and took his leave.
+
+Princess Mary and Natasha met as usual in the bedroom. They talked of
+what Pierre had told them. Princess Mary did not express her opinion of
+Pierre nor did Natasha speak of him.
+
+"Well, good night, Mary!" said Natasha. "Do you know, I am often afraid
+that by not speaking of him" (she meant Prince Andrew) "for fear of not
+doing justice to our feelings, we forget him."
+
+Princess Mary sighed deeply and thereby acknowledged the justice of
+Natasha's remark, but she did not express agreement in words.
+
+"Is it possible to forget?" said she.
+
+"It did me so much good to tell all about it today. It was hard and
+painful, but good, very good!" said Natasha. "I am sure he really loved
+him. That is why I told him... Was it all right?" she added, suddenly
+blushing.
+
+"To tell Pierre? Oh, yes. What a splendid man he is!" said Princess
+Mary.
+
+"Do you know, Mary..." Natasha suddenly said with a mischievous smile
+such as Princess Mary had not seen on her face for a long time, "he has
+somehow grown so clean, smooth, and fresh--as if he had just come out of
+a Russian bath; do you understand? Out of a moral bath. Isn't it true?"
+
+"Yes," replied Princess Mary. "He has greatly improved."
+
+"With a short coat and his hair cropped; just as if, well, just as if he
+had come straight from the bath... Papa used to..."
+
+"I understand why he" (Prince Andrew) "liked no one so much as him,"
+said Princess Mary.
+
+"Yes, and yet he is quite different. They say men are friends when they
+are quite different. That must be true. Really he is quite unlike him--
+in everything."
+
+"Yes, but he's wonderful."
+
+"Well, good night," said Natasha.
+
+And the same mischievous smile lingered for a long time on her face as
+if it had been forgotten there.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+It was a long time before Pierre could fall asleep that night. He paced
+up and down his room, now turning his thoughts on a difficult problem
+and frowning, now suddenly shrugging his shoulders and wincing, and now
+smiling happily.
+
+He was thinking of Prince Andrew, of Natasha, and of their love, at one
+moment jealous of her past, then reproaching himself for that feeling.
+It was already six in the morning and he still paced up and down the
+room.
+
+"Well, what's to be done if it cannot be avoided? What's to be done?
+Evidently it has to be so," said he to himself, and hastily undressing
+he got into bed, happy and agitated but free from hesitation or
+indecision.
+
+"Strange and impossible as such happiness seems, I must do everything
+that she and I may be man and wife," he told himself.
+
+A few days previously Pierre had decided to go to Petersburg on the
+Friday. When he awoke on the Thursday, Savelich came to ask him about
+packing for the journey.
+
+"What, to Petersburg? What is Petersburg? Who is there in Petersburg?"
+he asked involuntarily, though only to himself. "Oh, yes, long ago
+before this happened I did for some reason mean to go to Petersburg," he
+reflected. "Why? But perhaps I shall go. What a good fellow he is and
+how attentive, and how he remembers everything," he thought, looking at
+Savelich's old face, "and what a pleasant smile he has!"
+
+"Well, Savelich, do you still not wish to accept your freedom?" Pierre
+asked him.
+
+"What's the good of freedom to me, your excellency? We lived under the
+late count--the kingdom of heaven be his!--and we have lived under you
+too, without ever being wronged."
+
+"And your children?"
+
+"The children will live just the same. With such masters one can live."
+
+"But what about my heirs?" said Pierre. "Supposing I suddenly marry...
+it might happen," he added with an involuntary smile.
+
+"If I may take the liberty, your excellency, it would be a good thing."
+
+"How easy he thinks it," thought Pierre. "He doesn't know how terrible
+it is and how dangerous. Too soon or too late... it is terrible!"
+
+"So what are your orders? Are you starting tomorrow?" asked Savelich.
+
+"No, I'll put it off for a bit. I'll tell you later. You must forgive
+the trouble I have put you to," said Pierre, and seeing Savelich smile,
+he thought: "But how strange it is that he should not know that now
+there is no Petersburg for me, and that that must be settled first of
+all! But probably he knows it well enough and is only pretending. Shall
+I have a talk with him and see what he thinks?" Pierre reflected. "No,
+another time."
+
+At breakfast Pierre told the princess, his cousin, that he had been to
+see Princess Mary the day before and had there met--"Whom do you think?
+Natasha Rostova!"
+
+The princess seemed to see nothing more extraordinary in that than if he
+had seen Anna Semenovna.
+
+"Do you know her?" asked Pierre.
+
+"I have seen the princess," she replied. "I heard that they were
+arranging a match for her with young Rostov. It would be a very good
+thing for the Rostovs, they are said to be utterly ruined."
+
+"No; I mean do you know Natasha Rostova?"
+
+"I heard about that affair of hers at the time. It was a great pity."
+
+"No, she either doesn't understand or is pretending," thought Pierre.
+"Better not say anything to her either."
+
+The princess too had prepared provisions for Pierre's journey.
+
+"How kind they all are," thought Pierre. "What is surprising is that
+they should trouble about these things now when it can no longer be of
+interest to them. And all for me!"
+
+On the same day the Chief of Police came to Pierre, inviting him to send
+a representative to the Faceted Palace to recover things that were to be
+returned to their owners that day.
+
+"And this man too," thought Pierre, looking into the face of the Chief
+of Police. "What a fine, good-looking officer and how kind. Fancy
+bothering about such trifles now! And they actually say he is not honest
+and takes bribes. What nonsense! Besides, why shouldn't he take bribes?
+That's the way he was brought up, and everybody does it. But what a
+kind, pleasant face and how he smiles as he looks at me."
+
+Pierre went to Princess Mary's to dinner.
+
+As he drove through the streets past the houses that had been burned
+down, he was surprised by the beauty of those ruins. The picturesqueness
+of the chimney stacks and tumble-down walls of the burned-out quarters
+of the town, stretching out and concealing one another, reminded him of
+the Rhine and the Colosseum. The cabmen he met and their passengers, the
+carpenters cutting the timber for new houses with axes, the women
+hawkers, and the shopkeepers, all looked at him with cheerful beaming
+eyes that seemed to say: "Ah, there he is! Let's see what will come of
+it!"
+
+At the entrance to Princess Mary's house Pierre felt doubtful whether he
+had really been there the night before and really seen Natasha and
+talked to her. "Perhaps I imagined it; perhaps I shall go in and find no
+one there." But he had hardly entered the room before he felt her
+presence with his whole being by the loss of his sense of freedom. She
+was in the same black dress with soft folds and her hair was done the
+same way as the day before, yet she was quite different. Had she been
+like this when he entered the day before he could not for a moment have
+failed to recognize her.
+
+She was as he had known her almost as a child and later on as Prince
+Andrew's fiancee. A bright questioning light shone in her eyes, and on
+her face was a friendly and strangely roguish expression.
+
+Pierre dined with them and would have spent the whole evening there, but
+Princess Mary was going to vespers and Pierre left the house with her.
+
+Next day he came early, dined, and stayed the whole evening. Though
+Princess Mary and Natasha were evidently glad to see their visitor and
+though all Pierre's interest was now centered in that house, by the
+evening they had talked over everything and the conversation passed from
+one trivial topic to another and repeatedly broke off. He stayed so long
+that Princess Mary and Natasha exchanged glances, evidently wondering
+when he would go. Pierre noticed this but could not go. He felt uneasy
+and embarrassed, but sat on because he simply could not get up and take
+his leave.
+
+Princess Mary, foreseeing no end to this, rose first, and complaining of
+a headache began to say good night.
+
+"So you are going to Petersburg tomorrow?" she asked.
+
+"No, I am not going," Pierre replied hastily, in a surprised tone and as
+though offended. "Yes... no... to Petersburg? Tomorrow--but I won't say
+good-by yet. I will call round in case you have any commissions for me,"
+said he, standing before Princess Mary and turning red, but not taking
+his departure.
+
+Natasha gave him her hand and went out. Princess Mary on the other hand
+instead of going away sank into an armchair, and looked sternly and
+intently at him with her deep, radiant eyes. The weariness she had
+plainly shown before had now quite passed off. With a deep and long-
+drawn sigh she seemed to be prepared for a lengthy talk.
+
+When Natasha left the room Pierre's confusion and awkwardness
+immediately vanished and were replaced by eager excitement. He quickly
+moved an armchair toward Princess Mary.
+
+"Yes, I wanted to tell you," said he, answering her look as if she had
+spoken. "Princess, help me! What am I to do? Can I hope? Princess, my
+dear friend, listen! I know it all. I know I am not worthy of her, I
+know it's impossible to speak of it now. But I want to be a brother to
+her. No, not that, I don't, I can't..."
+
+He paused and rubbed his face and eyes with his hands.
+
+"Well," he went on with an evident effort at self-control and coherence.
+"I don't know when I began to love her, but I have loved her and her
+alone all my life, and I love her so that I cannot imagine life without
+her. I cannot propose to her at present, but the thought that perhaps
+she might someday be my wife and that I may be missing that
+possibility... that possibility... is terrible. Tell me, can I hope?
+Tell me what I am to do, dear princess!" he added after a pause, and
+touched her hand as she did not reply.
+
+"I am thinking of what you have told me," answered Princess Mary. "This
+is what I will say. You are right that to speak to her of love at
+present..."
+
+Princess Mary stopped. She was going to say that to speak of love was
+impossible, but she stopped because she had seen by the sudden change in
+Natasha two days before that she would not only not be hurt if Pierre
+spoke of his love, but that it was the very thing she wished for.
+
+"To speak to her now wouldn't do," said the princess all the same.
+
+"But what am I to do?"
+
+"Leave it to me," said Princess Mary. "I know..."
+
+Pierre was looking into Princess Mary's eyes.
+
+"Well?... Well?..." he said.
+
+"I know that she loves... will love you," Princess Mary corrected
+herself.
+
+Before her words were out, Pierre had sprung up and with a frightened
+expression seized Princess Mary's hand.
+
+"What makes you think so? You think I may hope? You think...?"
+
+"Yes, I think so," said Princess Mary with a smile. "Write to her
+parents, and leave it to me. I will tell her when I can. I wish it to
+happen and my heart tells me it will."
+
+"No, it cannot be! How happy I am! But it can't be.... How happy I am!
+No, it can't be!" Pierre kept saying as he kissed Princess Mary's hands.
+
+"Go to Petersburg, that will be best. And I will write to you," she
+said.
+
+"To Petersburg? Go there? Very well, I'll go. But I may come again
+tomorrow?"
+
+Next day Pierre came to say good-by. Natasha was less animated than she
+had been the day before; but that day as he looked at her Pierre
+sometimes felt as if he was vanishing and that neither he nor she
+existed any longer, that nothing existed but happiness. "Is it possible?
+No, it can't be," he told himself at every look, gesture, and word that
+filled his soul with joy.
+
+When on saying good-by he took her thin, slender hand, he could not help
+holding it a little longer in his own.
+
+"Is it possible that this hand, that face, those eyes, all this treasure
+of feminine charm so strange to me now, is it possible that it will one
+day be mine forever, as familiar to me as I am to myself?... No, that's
+impossible!..."
+
+"Good-bye, Count," she said aloud. "I shall look forward very much to
+your return," she added in a whisper.
+
+And these simple words, her look, and the expression on her face which
+accompanied them, formed for two months the subject of inexhaustible
+memories, interpretations, and happy meditations for Pierre. "'I shall
+look forward very much to your return....' Yes, yes, how did she say it?
+Yes, 'I shall look forward very much to your return.' Oh, how happy I
+am! What is happening to me? How happy I am!" said Pierre to himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+There was nothing in Pierre's soul now at all like what had troubled it
+during his courtship of Helene.
+
+He did not repeat to himself with a sickening feeling of shame the words
+he had spoken, or say: "Oh, why did I not say that?" and, "Whatever made
+me say 'Je vous aime'?" On the contrary, he now repeated in imagination
+every word that he or Natasha had spoken and pictured every detail of
+her face and smile, and did not wish to diminish or add anything, but
+only to repeat it again and again. There was now not a shadow of doubt
+in his mind as to whether what he had undertaken was right or wrong.
+Only one terrible doubt sometimes crossed his mind: "Wasn't it all a
+dream? Isn't Princess Mary mistaken? Am I not too conceited and self-
+confident? I believe all this--and suddenly Princess Mary will tell her,
+and she will be sure to smile and say: 'How strange! He must be deluding
+himself. Doesn't he know that he is a man, just a man, while I...? I am
+something altogether different and higher.'"
+
+That was the only doubt often troubling Pierre. He did not now make any
+plans. The happiness before him appeared so inconceivable that if only
+he could attain it, it would be the end of all things. Everything ended
+with that.
+
+A joyful, unexpected frenzy, of which he had thought himself incapable,
+possessed him. The whole meaning of life--not for him alone but for the
+whole world--seemed to him centered in his love and the possibility of
+being loved by her. At times everybody seemed to him to be occupied with
+one thing only--his future happiness. Sometimes it seemed to him that
+other people were all as pleased as he was himself and merely tried to
+hide that pleasure by pretending to be busy with other interests. In
+every word and gesture he saw allusions to his happiness. He often
+surprised those he met by his significantly happy looks and smiles which
+seemed to express a secret understanding between him and them. And when
+he realized that people might not be aware of his happiness, he pitied
+them with his whole heart and felt a desire somehow to explain to them
+that all that occupied them was a mere frivolous trifle unworthy of
+attention.
+
+When it was suggested to him that he should enter the civil service, or
+when the war or any general political affairs were discussed on the
+assumption that everybody's welfare depended on this or that issue of
+events, he would listen with a mild and pitying smile and surprise
+people by his strange comments. But at this time he saw everybody--both
+those who, as he imagined, understood the real meaning of life (that is,
+what he was feeling) and those unfortunates who evidently did not
+understand it--in the bright light of the emotion that shone within
+himself, and at once without any effort saw in everyone he met
+everything that was good and worthy of being loved.
+
+When dealing with the affairs and papers of his dead wife, her memory
+aroused in him no feeling but pity that she had not known the bliss he
+now knew. Prince Vasili, who having obtained a new post and some fresh
+decorations was particularly proud at this time, seemed to him a
+pathetic, kindly old man much to be pitied.
+
+Often in afterlife Pierre recalled this period of blissful insanity. All
+the views he formed of men and circumstances at this time remained true
+for him always. He not only did not renounce them subsequently, but when
+he was in doubt or inwardly at variance, he referred to the views he had
+held at this time of his madness and they always proved correct.
+
+"I may have appeared strange and queer then," he thought, "but I was not
+so mad as I seemed. On the contrary I was then wiser and had more
+insight than at any other time, and understood all that is worth
+understanding in life, because... because I was happy."
+
+Pierre's insanity consisted in not waiting, as he used to do, to
+discover personal attributes which he termed "good qualities" in people
+before loving them; his heart was now overflowing with love, and by
+loving people without cause he discovered indubitable causes for loving
+them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+After Pierre's departure that first evening, when Natasha had said to
+Princess Mary with a gaily mocking smile: "He looks just, yes, just as
+if he had come out of a Russian bath--in a short coat and with his hair
+cropped," something hidden and unknown to herself, but irrepressible,
+awoke in Natasha's soul.
+
+Everything: her face, walk, look, and voice, was suddenly altered. To
+her own surprise a power of life and hope of happiness rose to the
+surface and demanded satisfaction. From that evening she seemed to have
+forgotten all that had happened to her. She no longer complained of her
+position, did not say a word about the past, and no longer feared to
+make happy plans for the future. She spoke little of Pierre, but when
+Princess Mary mentioned him a long-extinguished light once more kindled
+in her eyes and her lips curved with a strange smile.
+
+
+The change that took place in Natasha at first surprised Princess Mary;
+but when she understood its meaning it grieved her. "Can she have loved
+my brother so little as to be able to forget him so soon?" she thought
+when she reflected on the change. But when she was with Natasha she was
+not vexed with her and did not reproach her. The reawakened power of
+life that had seized Natasha was so evidently irrepressible and
+unexpected by her that in her presence Princess Mary felt that she had
+no right to reproach her even in her heart.
+
+Natasha gave herself up so fully and frankly to this new feeling that
+she did not try to hide the fact that she was no longer sad, but bright
+and cheerful.
+
+When Princess Mary returned to her room after her nocturnal talk with
+Pierre, Natasha met her on the threshold.
+
+"He has spoken? Yes? He has spoken?" she repeated.
+
+And a joyful yet pathetic expression which seemed to beg forgiveness for
+her joy settled on Natasha's face.
+
+"I wanted to listen at the door, but I knew you would tell me."
+
+Understandable and touching as the look with which Natasha gazed at her
+seemed to Princess Mary, and sorry as she was to see her agitation,
+these words pained her for a moment. She remembered her brother and his
+love.
+
+"But what's to be done? She can't help it," thought the princess.
+
+And with a sad and rather stern look she told Natasha all that Pierre
+had said. On hearing that he was going to Petersburg Natasha was
+astounded.
+
+"To Petersburg!" she repeated as if unable to understand.
+
+But noticing the grieved expression on Princess Mary's face she guessed
+the reason of that sadness and suddenly began to cry.
+
+"Mary," said she, "tell me what I should do! I am afraid of being bad.
+Whatever you tell me, I will do. Tell me...."
+
+"You love him?"
+
+"Yes," whispered Natasha.
+
+"Then why are you crying? I am happy for your sake," said Princess Mary,
+who because of those tears quite forgave Natasha's joy.
+
+"It won't be just yet--someday. Think what fun it will be when I am his
+wife and you marry Nicholas!"
+
+"Natasha, I have asked you not to speak of that. Let us talk about you."
+
+They were silent awhile.
+
+"But why go to Petersburg?" Natasha suddenly asked, and hastily replied
+to her own question. "But no, no, he must... Yes, Mary, He must...."
+
+FIRST EPILOGUE: 1813 - 20
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+Seven years had passed. The storm-tossed sea of European history had
+subsided within its shores and seemed to have become calm. But the
+mysterious forces that move humanity (mysterious because the laws of
+their motion are unknown to us) continued to operate.
+
+Though the surface of the sea of history seemed motionless, the movement
+of humanity went on as unceasingly as the flow of time. Various groups
+of people formed and dissolved, the coming formation and dissolution of
+kingdoms and displacement of peoples was in course of preparation.
+
+The sea of history was not driven spasmodically from shore to shore as
+previously. It was seething in its depths. Historic figures were not
+borne by the waves from one shore to another as before. They now seemed
+to rotate on one spot. The historical figures at the head of armies, who
+formerly reflected the movement of the masses by ordering wars,
+campaigns, and battles, now reflected the restless movement by political
+and diplomatic combinations, laws, and treaties.
+
+The historians call this activity of the historical figures "the
+reaction."
+
+In dealing with this period they sternly condemn the historical
+personages who, in their opinion, caused what they describe as the
+reaction. All the well-known people of that period, from Alexander and
+Napoleon to Madame de Stael, Photius, Schelling, Fichte, Chateaubriand,
+and the rest, pass before their stern judgment seat and are acquitted or
+condemned according to whether they conduced to progress or to reaction.
+
+According to their accounts a reaction took place at that time in Russia
+also, and the chief culprit was Alexander I, the same man who according
+to them was the chief cause of the liberal movement at the commencement
+of his reign, being the savior of Russia.
+
+There is no one in Russian literature now, from schoolboy essayist to
+learned historian, who does not throw his little stone at Alexander for
+things he did wrong at this period of his reign.
+
+"He ought to have acted in this way and in that way. In this case he did
+well and in that case badly. He behaved admirably at the beginning of
+his reign and during 1812, but acted badly by giving a constitution to
+Poland, forming the Holy Alliance, entrusting power to Arakcheev,
+favoring Golitsyn and mysticism, and afterwards Shishkov and Photius. He
+also acted badly by concerning himself with the active army and
+disbanding the Semenov regiment."
+
+It would take a dozen pages to enumerate all the reproaches the
+historians address to him, based on their knowledge of what is good for
+humanity.
+
+What do these reproaches mean?
+
+Do not the very actions for which the historians praise Alexander I (the
+liberal attempts at the beginning of his reign, his struggle with
+Napoleon, the firmness he displayed in 1812 and the campaign of 1813)
+flow from the same sources--the circumstances of his birth, education,
+and life--that made his personality what it was and from which the
+actions for which they blame him (the Holy Alliance, the restoration of
+Poland, and the reaction of 1820 and later) also flowed?
+
+In what does the substance of those reproaches lie?
+
+It lies in the fact that an historic character like Alexander I,
+standing on the highest possible pinnacle of human power with the
+blinding light of history focused upon him; a character exposed to those
+strongest of all influences: the intrigues, flattery, and self-deception
+inseparable from power; a character who at every moment of his life felt
+a responsibility for all that was happening in Europe; and not a
+fictitious but a live character who like every man had his personal
+habits, passions, and impulses toward goodness, beauty, and truth--that
+this character--though not lacking in virtue (the historians do not
+accuse him of that)--had not the same conception of the welfare of
+humanity fifty years ago as a present-day professor who from his youth
+upwards has been occupied with learning: that is, with books and
+lectures and with taking notes from them.
+
+But even if we assume that fifty years ago Alexander I was mistaken in
+his view of what was good for the people, we must inevitably assume that
+the historian who judges Alexander will also after the lapse of some
+time turn out to be mistaken in his view of what is good for humanity.
+This assumption is all the more natural and inevitable because, watching
+the movement of history, we see that every year and with each new
+writer, opinion as to what is good for mankind changes; so that what
+once seemed good, ten years later seems bad, and vice versa. And what is
+more, we find at one and the same time quite contradictory views as to
+what is bad and what is good in history: some people regard giving a
+constitution to Poland and forming the Holy Alliance as praiseworthy in
+Alexander, while others regard it as blameworthy.
+
+The activity of Alexander or of Napoleon cannot be called useful or
+harmful, for it is impossible to say for what it was useful or harmful.
+If that activity displeases somebody, this is only because it does not
+agree with his limited understanding of what is good. Whether the
+preservation of my father's house in Moscow, or the glory of the Russian
+arms, or the prosperity of the Petersburg and other universities, or the
+freedom of Poland or the greatness of Russia, or the balance of power in
+Europe, or a certain kind of European culture called "progress" appear
+to me to be good or bad, I must admit that besides these things the
+action of every historic character has other more general purposes
+inaccessible to me.
+
+But let us assume that what is called science can harmonize all
+contradictions and possesses an unchanging standard of good and bad by
+which to try historic characters and events; let us say that Alexander
+could have done everything differently; let us say that with guidance
+from those who blame him and who profess to know the ultimate aim of the
+movement of humanity, he might have arranged matters according to the
+program his present accusers would have given him--of nationality,
+freedom, equality, and progress (these, I think, cover the ground). Let
+us assume that this program was possible and had then been formulated,
+and that Alexander had acted on it. What would then have become of the
+activity of all those who opposed the tendency that then prevailed in
+the government--an activity that in the opinion of the historians was
+good and beneficent? Their activity would not have existed: there would
+have been no life, there would have been nothing.
+
+If we admit that human life can be ruled by reason, the possibility of
+life is destroyed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+If we assume as the historians do that great men lead humanity to the
+attainment of certain ends--the greatness of Russia or of France, the
+balance of power in Europe, the diffusion of the ideas of the
+Revolution, general progress, or anything else--then it is impossible to
+explain the facts of history without introducing the conceptions of
+chance and genius.
+
+If the aim of the European wars at the beginning of the nineteenth
+century had been the aggrandizement of Russia, that aim might have been
+accomplished without all the preceding wars and without the invasion. If
+the aim was the aggrandizement of France, that might have been attained
+without the Revolution and without the Empire. If the aim was the
+dissemination of ideas, the printing press could have accomplished that
+much better than warfare. If the aim was the progress of civilization,
+it is easy to see that there are other ways of diffusing civilization
+more expedient than by the destruction of wealth and of human lives.
+
+Why did it happen in this and not in some other way?
+
+Because it happened so! "Chance created the situation; genius utilized
+it," says history.
+
+But what is chance? What is genius?
+
+The words chance and genius do not denote any really existing thing and
+therefore cannot be defined. Those words only denote a certain stage of
+understanding of phenomena. I do not know why a certain event occurs; I
+think that I cannot know it; so I do not try to know it and I talk about
+chance. I see a force producing effects beyond the scope of ordinary
+human agencies; I do not understand why this occurs and I talk of
+genius.
+
+To a herd of rams, the ram the herdsman drives each evening into a
+special enclosure to feed and that becomes twice as fat as the others
+must seem to be a genius. And it must appear an astonishing conjunction
+of genius with a whole series of extraordinary chances that this ram,
+who instead of getting into the general fold every evening goes into a
+special enclosure where there are oats--that this very ram, swelling
+with fat, is killed for meat.
+
+But the rams need only cease to suppose that all that happens to them
+happens solely for the attainment of their sheepish aims; they need only
+admit that what happens to them may also have purposes beyond their ken,
+and they will at once perceive a unity and coherence in what happened to
+the ram that was fattened. Even if they do not know for what purpose
+they are fattened, they will at least know that all that happened to the
+ram did not happen accidentally, and will no longer need the conceptions
+of chance or genius.
+
+Only by renouncing our claim to discern a purpose immediately
+intelligible to us, and admitting the ultimate purpose to be beyond our
+ken, may we discern the sequence of experiences in the lives of historic
+characters and perceive the cause of the effect they produce
+(incommensurable with ordinary human capabilities), and then the words
+chance and genius become superfluous.
+
+We need only confess that we do not know the purpose of the European
+convulsions and that we know only the facts--that is, the murders, first
+in France, then in Italy, in Africa, in Prussia, in Austria, in Spain,
+and in Russia--and that the movements from the west to the east and from
+the east to the west form the essence and purpose of these events, and
+not only shall we have no need to see exceptional ability and genius in
+Napoleon and Alexander, but we shall be unable to consider them to be
+anything but like other men, and we shall not be obliged to have
+recourse to chance for an explanation of those small events which made
+these people what they were, but it will be clear that all those small
+events were inevitable.
+
+By discarding a claim to knowledge of the ultimate purpose, we shall
+clearly perceive that just as one cannot imagine a blossom or seed for
+any single plant better suited to it than those it produces, so it is
+impossible to imagine any two people more completely adapted down to the
+smallest detail for the purpose they had to fulfill, than Napoleon and
+Alexander with all their antecedents.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+The fundamental and essential significance of the European events of the
+beginning of the nineteenth century lies in the movement of the mass of
+the European peoples from west to east and afterwards from east to west.
+The commencement of that movement was the movement from west to east.
+For the peoples of the west to be able to make their warlike movement to
+Moscow it was necessary: (1) that they should form themselves into a
+military group of a size able to endure a collision with the warlike
+military group of the east, (2) that they should abandon all established
+traditions and customs, and (3) that during their military movement they
+should have at their head a man who could justify to himself and to them
+the deceptions, robberies, and murders which would have to be committed
+during that movement.
+
+And beginning with the French Revolution the old inadequately large
+group was destroyed, as well as the old habits and traditions, and step
+by step a group was formed of larger dimensions with new customs and
+traditions, and a man was produced who would stand at the head of the
+coming movement and bear the responsibility for all that had to be done.
+
+A man without convictions, without habits, without traditions, without a
+name, and not even a Frenchman, emerges--by what seem the strangest
+chances--from among all the seething French parties, and without joining
+any one of them is borne forward to a prominent position.
+
+The ignorance of his colleagues, the weakness and insignificance of his
+opponents, the frankness of his falsehoods, and the dazzling and self-
+confident limitations of this man raise him to the head of the army. The
+brilliant qualities of the soldiers of the army sent to Italy, his
+opponents' reluctance to fight, and his own childish audacity and self-
+confidence secure him military fame. Innumerable so-called chances
+accompany him everywhere. The disfavor into which he falls with the
+rulers of France turns to his advantage. His attempts to avoid his
+predestined path are unsuccessful: he is not received into the Russian
+service, and the appointment he seeks in Turkey comes to nothing. During
+the war in Italy he is several times on the verge of destruction and
+each time is saved in an unexpected manner. Owing to various diplomatic
+considerations the Russian armies--just those which might have destroyed
+his prestige--do not appear upon the scene till he is no longer there.
+
+On his return from Italy he finds the government in Paris in a process
+of dissolution in which all those who are in it are inevitably wiped out
+and destroyed. And by chance an escape from this dangerous position
+presents itself in the form of an aimless and senseless expedition to
+Africa. Again so-called chance accompanies him. Impregnable Malta
+surrenders without a shot; his most reckless schemes are crowned with
+success. The enemy's fleet, which subsequently did not let a single boat
+pass, allows his entire army to elude it. In Africa a whole series of
+outrages are committed against the almost unarmed inhabitants. And the
+men who commit these crimes, especially their leader, assure themselves
+that this is admirable, this is glory--it resembles Caesar and Alexander
+the Great and is therefore good.
+
+This ideal of glory and grandeur--which consists not merely in
+considering nothing wrong that one does but in priding oneself on every
+crime one commits, ascribing to it an incomprehensible supernatural
+significance--that ideal, destined to guide this man and his associates,
+had scope for its development in Africa. Whatever he does succeeds. The
+plague does not touch him. The cruelty of murdering prisoners is not
+imputed to him as a fault. His childishly rash, uncalled-for, and
+ignoble departure from Africa, leaving his comrades in distress, is set
+down to his credit, and again the enemy's fleet twice lets him slip
+past. When, intoxicated by the crimes he has committed so successfully,
+he reaches Paris, the dissolution of the republican government, which a
+year earlier might have ruined him, has reached its extreme limit, and
+his presence there now as a newcomer free from party entanglements can
+only serve to exalt him--and though he himself has no plan, he is quite
+ready for his new role.
+
+He had no plan, he was afraid of everything, but the parties snatched at
+him and demanded his participation.
+
+He alone--with his ideal of glory and grandeur developed in Italy and
+Egypt, his insane self-adulation, his boldness in crime and frankness in
+lying--he alone could justify what had to be done.
+
+He is needed for the place that awaits him, and so almost apart from his
+will and despite his indecision, his lack of a plan, and all his
+mistakes, he is drawn into a conspiracy that aims at seizing power and
+the conspiracy is crowned with success.
+
+He is pushed into a meeting of the legislature. In alarm he wishes to
+flee, considering himself lost. He pretends to fall into a swoon and
+says senseless things that should have ruined him. But the once proud
+and shrewd rulers of France, feeling that their part is played out, are
+even more bewildered than he, and do not say the words they should have
+said to destroy him and retain their power.
+
+Chance, millions of chances, give him power, and all men as if by
+agreement co-operate to confirm that power. Chance forms the characters
+of the rulers of France, who submit to him; chance forms the character
+of Paul I of Russia who recognizes his government; chance contrives a
+plot against him which not only fails to harm him but confirms his
+power. Chance puts the Duc d'Enghien in his hands and unexpectedly
+causes him to kill him--thereby convincing the mob more forcibly than in
+any other way that he had the right, since he had the might. Chance
+contrives that though he directs all his efforts to prepare an
+expedition against England (which would inevitably have ruined him) he
+never carries out that intention, but unexpectedly falls upon Mack and
+the Austrians, who surrender without a battle. Chance and genius give
+him the victory at Austerlitz; and by chance all men, not only the
+French but all Europe--except England which does not take part in the
+events about to happen--despite their former horror and detestation of
+his crimes, now recognize his authority, the title he has given himself,
+and his ideal of grandeur and glory, which seems excellent and
+reasonable to them all.
+
+As if measuring themselves and preparing for the coming movement, the
+western forces push toward the east several times in 1805, 1806, 1807,
+and 1809, gaining strength and growing. In 1811 the group of people that
+had formed in France unites into one group with the peoples of Central
+Europe. The strength of the justification of the man who stands at the
+head of the movement grows with the increased size of the group. During
+the ten-year preparatory period this man had formed relations with all
+the crowned heads of Europe. The discredited rulers of the world can
+oppose no reasonable ideal to the insensate Napoleonic ideal of glory
+and grandeur. One after another they hasten to display their
+insignificance before him. The King of Prussia sends his wife to seek
+the great man's mercy; the Emperor of Austria considers it a favor that
+this man receives a daughter of the Caesars into his bed; the Pope, the
+guardian of all that the nations hold sacred, utilizes religion for the
+aggrandizement of the great man. It is not Napoleon who prepares himself
+for the accomplishment of his role, so much as all those round him who
+prepare him to take on himself the whole responsibility for what is
+happening and has to happen. There is no step, no crime or petty fraud
+he commits, which in the mouths of those around him is not at once
+represented as a great deed. The most suitable fete the Germans can
+devise for him is a celebration of Jena and Auerstadt. Not only is he
+great, but so are his ancestors, his brothers, his stepsons, and his
+brothers-in-law. Everything is done to deprive him of the remains of his
+reason and to prepare him for his terrible part. And when he is ready so
+too are the forces.
+
+The invasion pushes eastward and reaches its final goal--Moscow. That
+city is taken; the Russian army suffers heavier losses than the opposing
+armies had suffered in the former war from Austerlitz to Wagram. But
+suddenly instead of those chances and that genius which hitherto had so
+consistently led him by an uninterrupted series of successes to the
+predestined goal, an innumerable sequence of inverse chances occur--from
+the cold in his head at Borodino to the sparks which set Moscow on fire,
+and the frosts--and instead of genius, stupidity and immeasurable
+baseness become evident.
+
+The invaders flee, turn back, flee again, and all the chances are now
+not for Napoleon but always against him.
+
+A countermovement is then accomplished from east to west with a
+remarkable resemblance to the preceding movement from west to east.
+Attempted drives from east to west--similar to the contrary movements of
+1805, 1807, and 1809--precede the great westward movement; there is the
+same coalescence into a group of enormous dimensions; the same adhesion
+of the people of Central Europe to the movement; the same hesitation
+midway, and the same increasing rapidity as the goal is approached.
+
+Paris, the ultimate goal, is reached. The Napoleonic government and army
+are destroyed. Napoleon himself is no longer of any account; all his
+actions are evidently pitiful and mean, but again an inexplicable chance
+occurs. The allies detest Napoleon whom they regard as the cause of
+their sufferings. Deprived of power and authority, his crimes and his
+craft exposed, he should have appeared to them what he appeared ten
+years previously and one year later--an outlawed brigand. But by some
+strange chance no one perceives this. His part is not yet ended. The man
+who ten years before and a year later was considered an outlawed brigand
+is sent to an island two days' sail from France, which for some reason
+is presented to him as his dominion, and guards are given to him and
+millions of money are paid him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+The flood of nations begins to subside into its normal channels. The
+waves of the great movement abate, and on the calm surface eddies are
+formed in which float the diplomatists, who imagine that they have
+caused the floods to abate.
+
+But the smooth sea again suddenly becomes disturbed. The diplomatists
+think that their disagreements are the cause of this fresh pressure of
+natural forces; they anticipate war between their sovereigns; the
+position seems to them insoluble. But the wave they feel to be rising
+does not come from the quarter they expect. It rises again from the same
+point as before--Paris. The last backwash of the movement from the west
+occurs: a backwash which serves to solve the apparently insuperable
+diplomatic difficulties and ends the military movement of that period of
+history.
+
+The man who had devastated France returns to France alone, without any
+conspiracy and without soldiers. Any guard might arrest him, but by
+strange chance no one does so and all rapturously greet the man they
+cursed the day before and will curse again a month later.
+
+This man is still needed to justify the final collective act.
+
+That act is performed.
+
+The last role is played. The actor is bidden to disrobe and wash off his
+powder and paint: he will not be wanted any more.
+
+And some years pass during which he plays a pitiful comedy to himself in
+solitude on his island, justifying his actions by intrigues and lies
+when the justification is no longer needed, and displaying to the whole
+world what it was that people had mistaken for strength as long as an
+unseen hand directed his actions.
+
+The manager having brought the drama to a close and stripped the actor
+shows him to us.
+
+"See what you believed in! This is he! Do you now see that it was not he
+but I who moved you?"
+
+But dazed by the force of the movement, it was long before people
+understood this.
+
+Still greater coherence and inevitability is seen in the life of
+Alexander I, the man who stood at the head of the countermovement from
+east to west.
+
+What was needed for him who, overshadowing others, stood at the head of
+that movement from east to west?
+
+What was needed was a sense of justice and a sympathy with European
+affairs, but a remote sympathy not dulled by petty interests; a moral
+superiority over those sovereigns of the day who co-operated with him; a
+mild and attractive personality; and a personal grievance against
+Napoleon. And all this was found in Alexander I; all this had been
+prepared by innumerable so-called chances in his life: his education,
+his early liberalism, the advisers who surrounded him, and by
+Austerlitz, and Tilsit, and Erfurt.
+
+During the national war he was inactive because he was not needed. But
+as soon as the necessity for a general European war presented itself he
+appeared in his place at the given moment and, uniting the nations of
+Europe, led them to the goal.
+
+The goal is reached. After the final war of 1815 Alexander possesses all
+possible power. How does he use it?
+
+Alexander I--the pacifier of Europe, the man who from his early years
+had striven only for his people's welfare, the originator of the liberal
+innovations in his fatherland--now that he seemed to possess the utmost
+power and therefore to have the possibility of bringing about the
+welfare of his peoples--at the time when Napoleon in exile was drawing
+up childish and mendacious plans of how he would have made mankind happy
+had he retained power--Alexander I, having fulfilled his mission and
+feeling the hand of God upon him, suddenly recognizes the insignificance
+of that supposed power, turns away from it, and gives it into the hands
+of contemptible men whom he despises, saying only:
+
+"Not unto us, not unto us, but unto Thy Name!... I too am a man like the
+rest of you. Let me live like a man and think of my soul and of God."
+
+As the sun and each atom of ether is a sphere complete in itself, and
+yet at the same time only a part of a whole too immense for man to
+comprehend, so each individual has within himself his own aims and yet
+has them to serve a general purpose incomprehensible to man.
+
+A bee settling on a flower has stung a child. And the child is afraid of
+bees and declares that bees exist to sting people. A poet admires the
+bee sucking from the chalice of a flower and says it exists to suck the
+fragrance of flowers. A beekeeper, seeing the bee collect pollen from
+flowers and carry it to the hive, says that it exists to gather honey.
+Another beekeeper who has studied the life of the hive more closely says
+that the bee gathers pollen dust to feed the young bees and rear a
+queen, and that it exists to perpetuate its race. A botanist notices
+that the bee flying with the pollen of a male flower to a pistil
+fertilizes the latter, and sees in this the purpose of the bee's
+existence. Another, observing the migration of plants, notices that the
+bee helps in this work, and may say that in this lies the purpose of the
+bee. But the ultimate purpose of the bee is not exhausted by the first,
+the second, or any of the processes the human mind can discern. The
+higher the human intellect rises in the discovery of these purposes, the
+more obvious it becomes, that the ultimate purpose is beyond our
+comprehension.
+
+All that is accessible to man is the relation of the life of the bee to
+other manifestations of life. And so it is with the purpose of historic
+characters and nations.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+Natasha's wedding to Bezukhov, which took place in 1813, was the last
+happy event in the family of the old Rostovs. Count Ilya Rostov died
+that same year and, as always happens, after the father's death the
+family group broke up.
+
+The events of the previous year: the burning of Moscow and the flight
+from it, the death of Prince Andrew, Natasha's despair, Petya's death,
+and the old countess' grief fell blow after blow on the old count's
+head. He seemed to be unable to understand the meaning of all these
+events, and bowed his old head in a spiritual sense as if expecting and
+inviting further blows which would finish him. He seemed now frightened
+and distraught and now unnaturally animated and enterprising.
+
+The arrangements for Natasha's marriage occupied him for a while. He
+ordered dinners and suppers and obviously tried to appear cheerful, but
+his cheerfulness was not infectious as it used to be: on the contrary it
+evoked the compassion of those who knew and liked him.
+
+When Pierre and his wife had left, he grew very quiet and began to
+complain of depression. A few days later he fell ill and took to his
+bed. He realized from the first that he would not get up again, despite
+the doctor's encouragement. The countess passed a fortnight in an
+armchair by his pillow without undressing. Every time she gave him his
+medicine he sobbed and silently kissed her hand. On his last day,
+sobbing, he asked her and his absent son to forgive him for having
+dissipated their property--that being the chief fault of which he was
+conscious. After receiving communion and unction he quietly died; and
+next day a throng of acquaintances who came to pay their last respects
+to the deceased filled the house rented by the Rostovs. All these
+acquaintances, who had so often dined and danced at his house and had so
+often laughed at him, now said, with a common feeling of self-reproach
+and emotion, as if justifying themselves: "Well, whatever he may have
+been he was a most worthy man. You don't meet such men nowadays.... And
+which of us has not weaknesses of his own?"
+
+It was just when the count's affairs had become so involved that it was
+impossible to say what would happen if he lived another year that he
+unexpectedly died.
+
+Nicholas was with the Russian army in Paris when the news of his
+father's death reached him. He at once resigned his commission, and
+without waiting for it to be accepted took leave of absence and went to
+Moscow. The state of the count's affairs became quite obvious a month
+after his death, surprising everyone by the immense total of small debts
+the existence of which no one had suspected. The debts amounted to
+double the value of the property.
+
+Friends and relations advised Nicholas to decline the inheritance. But
+he regarded such a refusal as a slur on his father's memory, which he
+held sacred, and therefore would not hear of refusing and accepted the
+inheritance together with the obligation to pay the debts.
+
+The creditors who had so long been silent, restrained by a vague but
+powerful influence exerted on them while he lived by the count's
+careless good nature, all proceeded to enforce their claims at once. As
+always happens in such cases rivalry sprang up as to which should get
+paid first, and those who like Mitenka held promissory notes given them
+as presents now became the most exacting of the creditors. Nicholas was
+allowed no respite and no peace, and those who had seemed to pity the
+old man--the cause of their losses (if they were losses)--now
+remorselessly pursued the young heir who had voluntarily undertaken the
+debts and was obviously not guilty of contracting them.
+
+Not one of the plans Nicholas tried succeeded; the estate was sold by
+auction for half its value, and half the debts still remained unpaid.
+Nicholas accepted thirty thousand rubles offered him by his brother-in-
+law Bezukhov to pay off debts he regarded as genuinely due for value
+received. And to avoid being imprisoned for the remainder, as the
+creditors threatened, he re-entered the government service.
+
+He could not rejoin the army where he would have been made colonel at
+the next vacancy, for his mother now clung to him as her one hold on
+life; and so despite his reluctance to remain in Moscow among people who
+had known him before, and despite his abhorrence of the civil service,
+he accepted a post in Moscow in that service, doffed the uniform of
+which he was so fond, and moved with his mother and Sonya to a small
+house on the Sivtsev Vrazhek.
+
+Natasha and Pierre were living in Petersburg at the time and had no
+clear idea of Nicholas' circumstances. Having borrowed money from his
+brother-in-law, Nicholas tried to hide his wretched condition from him.
+His position was the more difficult because with his salary of twelve
+hundred rubles he had not only to keep himself, his mother, and Sonya,
+but had to shield his mother from knowledge of their poverty. The
+countess could not conceive of life without the luxurious conditions she
+had been used to from childhood and, unable to realize how hard it was
+for her son, kept demanding now a carriage (which they did not keep) to
+send for a friend, now some expensive article of food for herself, or
+wine for her son, or money to buy a present as a surprise for Natasha or
+Sonya, or for Nicholas himself.
+
+Sonya kept house, attended on her aunt, read to her, put up with her
+whims and secret ill-will, and helped Nicholas to conceal their poverty
+from the old countess. Nicholas felt himself irredeemably indebted to
+Sonya for all she was doing for his mother and greatly admired her
+patience and devotion, but tried to keep aloof from her.
+
+He seemed in his heart to reproach her for being too perfect, and
+because there was nothing to reproach her with. She had all that people
+are valued for, but little that could have made him love her. He felt
+that the more he valued her the less he loved her. He had taken her at
+her word when she wrote giving him his freedom and now behaved as if all
+that had passed between them had been long forgotten and could never in
+any case be renewed.
+
+Nicholas' position became worse and worse. The idea of putting something
+aside out of his salary proved a dream. Not only did he not save
+anything, but to comply with his mother's demands he even incurred some
+small debts. He could see no way out of this situation. The idea of
+marrying some rich woman, which was suggested to him by his female
+relations, was repugnant to him. The other way out--his mother's death--
+never entered his head. He wished for nothing and hoped for nothing, and
+deep in his heart experienced a gloomy and stern satisfaction in an
+uncomplaining endurance of his position. He tried to avoid his old
+acquaintances with their commiseration and offensive offers of
+assistance; he avoided all distraction and recreation, and even at home
+did nothing but play cards with his mother, pace silently up and down
+the room, and smoke one pipe after another. He seemed carefully to
+cherish within himself the gloomy mood which alone enabled him to endure
+his position.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+At the beginning of winter Princess Mary came to Moscow. From reports
+current in town she learned how the Rostovs were situated, and how "the
+son has sacrificed himself for his mother," as people were saying.
+
+"I never expected anything else of him," said Princess Mary to herself,
+feeling a joyous sense of her love for him. Remembering her friendly
+relations with all the Rostovs which had made her almost a member of the
+family, she thought it her duty to go to see them. But remembering her
+relations with Nicholas in Voronezh she was shy about doing so. Making a
+great effort she did however go to call on them a few weeks after her
+arrival in Moscow.
+
+Nicholas was the first to meet her, as the countess' room could only be
+reached through his. But instead of being greeted with pleasure as she
+had expected, at his first glance at her his face assumed a cold, stiff,
+proud expression she had not seen on it before. He inquired about her
+health, led the way to his mother, and having sat there for five minutes
+left the room.
+
+When the princess came out of the countess' room Nicholas met her again,
+and with marked solemnity and stiffness accompanied her to the anteroom.
+To her remarks about his mother's health he made no reply. "What's that
+to you? Leave me in peace," his looks seemed to say.
+
+"Why does she come prowling here? What does she want? I can't bear these
+ladies and all these civilities!" said he aloud in Sonya's presence,
+evidently unable to repress his vexation, after the princess' carriage
+had disappeared.
+
+"Oh, Nicholas, how can you talk like that?" cried Sonya, hardly able to
+conceal her delight. "She is so kind and Mamma is so fond of her!"
+
+Nicholas did not reply and tried to avoid speaking of the princess any
+more. But after her visit the old countess spoke of her several times a
+day.
+
+She sang her praises, insisted that her son must call on her, expressed
+a wish to see her often, but yet always became ill-humored when she
+began to talk about her.
+
+Nicholas tried to keep silence when his mother spoke of the princess,
+but his silence irritated her.
+
+"She is a very admirable and excellent young woman," said she, "and you
+must go and call on her. You would at least be seeing somebody, and I
+think it must be dull for you only seeing us."
+
+"But I don't in the least want to, Mamma."
+
+"You used to want to, and now you don't. Really I don't understand you,
+my dear. One day you are dull, and the next you refuse to see anyone."
+
+"But I never said I was dull."
+
+"Why, you said yourself you don't want even to see her. She is a very
+admirable young woman and you always liked her, but now suddenly you
+have got some notion or other in your head. You hide everything from
+me."
+
+"Not at all, Mamma."
+
+"If I were asking you to do something disagreeable now--but I only ask
+you to return a call. One would think mere politeness required it....
+Well, I have asked you, and now I won't interfere any more since you
+have secrets from your mother."
+
+"Well, then, I'll go if you wish it."
+
+"It doesn't matter to me. I only wish it for your sake."
+
+Nicholas sighed, bit his mustache, and laid out the cards for a
+patience, trying to divert his mother's attention to another topic.
+
+The same conversation was repeated next day and the day after, and the
+day after that.
+
+After her visit to the Rostovs and her unexpectedly chilly reception by
+Nicholas, Princess Mary confessed to herself that she had been right in
+not wishing to be the first to call.
+
+"I expected nothing else," she told herself, calling her pride to her
+aid. "I have nothing to do with him and I only wanted to see the old
+lady, who was always kind to me and to whom I am under many
+obligations."
+
+But she could not pacify herself with these reflections; a feeling akin
+to remorse troubled her when she thought of her visit. Though she had
+firmly resolved not to call on the Rostovs again and to forget the whole
+matter, she felt herself all the time in an awkward position. And when
+she asked herself what distressed her, she had to admit that it was her
+relation to Rostov. His cold, polite manner did not express his feeling
+for her (she knew that) but it concealed something, and until she could
+discover what that something was, she felt that she could not be at
+ease.
+
+One day in midwinter when sitting in the schoolroom attending to her
+nephew's lessons, she was informed that Rostov had called. With a firm
+resolution not to betray herself and not show her agitation, she sent
+for Mademoiselle Bourienne and went with her to the drawing room.
+
+Her first glance at Nicholas' face told her that he had only come to
+fulfill the demands of politeness, and she firmly resolved to maintain
+the tone in which he addressed her.
+
+They spoke of the countess' health, of their mutual friends, of the
+latest war news, and when the ten minutes required by propriety had
+elapsed after which a visitor may rise, Nicholas got up to say good-by.
+
+With Mademoiselle Bourienne's help the princess had maintained the
+conversation very well, but at the very last moment, just when he rose,
+she was so tired of talking of what did not interest her, and her mind
+was so full of the question why she alone was granted so little
+happiness in life, that in a fit of absent-mindedness she sat still, her
+luminous eyes gazing fixedly before her, not noticing that he had risen.
+
+Nicholas glanced at her and, wishing to appear not to notice her
+abstraction, made some remark to Mademoiselle Bourienne and then again
+looked at the princess. She still sat motionless with a look of
+suffering on her gentle face. He suddenly felt sorry for her and was
+vaguely conscious that he might be the cause of the sadness her face
+expressed. He wished to help her and say something pleasant, but could
+think of nothing to say.
+
+"Good-bye, Princess!" said he.
+
+She started, flushed, and sighed deeply.
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon," she said as if waking up. "Are you going
+already, Count? Well then, good-by! Oh, but the cushion for the
+countess!"
+
+"Wait a moment, I'll fetch it," said Mademoiselle Bourienne, and she
+left the room.
+
+They both sat silent, with an occasional glance at one another.
+
+"Yes, Princess," said Nicholas at last with a sad smile, "it doesn't
+seem long ago since we first met at Bogucharovo, but how much water has
+flowed since then! In what distress we all seemed to be then, yet I
+would give much to bring back that time... but there's no bringing it
+back."
+
+Princess Mary gazed intently into his eyes with her own luminous ones as
+he said this. She seemed to be trying to fathom the hidden meaning of
+his words which would explain his feeling for her.
+
+"Yes, yes," said she, "but you have no reason to regret the past, Count.
+As I understand your present life, I think you will always recall it
+with satisfaction, because the self-sacrifice that fills it now..."
+
+"I cannot accept your praise," he interrupted her hurriedly. "On the
+contrary I continually reproach myself.... But this is not at all an
+interesting or cheerful subject."
+
+His face again resumed its former stiff and cold expression. But the
+princess had caught a glimpse of the man she had known and loved, and it
+was to him that she now spoke.
+
+"I thought you would allow me to tell you this," she said. "I had come
+so near to you... and to all your family that I thought you would not
+consider my sympathy misplaced, but I was mistaken," and suddenly her
+voice trembled. "I don't know why," she continued, recovering herself,
+"but you used to be different, and..."
+
+"There are a thousand reasons why," laying special emphasis on the why.
+"Thank you, Princess," he added softly. "Sometimes it is hard."
+
+"So that's why! That's why!" a voice whispered in Princess Mary's soul.
+"No, it was not only that gay, kind, and frank look, not only that
+handsome exterior, that I loved in him. I divined his noble, resolute,
+self-sacrificing spirit too," she said to herself. "Yes, he is poor now
+and I am rich.... Yes, that's the only reason.... Yes, were it not for
+that..." And remembering his former tenderness, and looking now at his
+kind, sorrowful face, she suddenly understood the cause of his coldness.
+
+"But why, Count, why?" she almost cried, unconsciously moving closer to
+him. "Why? Tell me. You must tell me!"
+
+He was silent.
+
+"I don't understand your why, Count," she continued, "but it's hard for
+me... I confess it. For some reason you wish to deprive me of our former
+friendship. And that hurts me." There were tears in her eyes and in her
+voice. "I have had so little happiness in life that every loss is hard
+for me to bear.... Excuse me, good-by!" and suddenly she began to cry
+and was hurrying from the room.
+
+"Princess, for God's sake!" he exclaimed, trying to stop her.
+"Princess!"
+
+She turned round. For a few seconds they gazed silently into one
+another's eyes--and what had seemed impossible and remote suddenly
+became possible, inevitable, and very near.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+In the winter of 1813 Nicholas married Princess Mary and moved to Bald
+Hills with his wife, his mother, and Sonya.
+
+Within four years he had paid off all his remaining debts without
+selling any of his wife's property, and having received a small
+inheritance on the death of a cousin he paid his debt to Pierre as well.
+
+In another three years, by 1820, he had so managed his affairs that he
+was able to buy a small estate adjoining Bald Hills and was negotiating
+to buy back Otradnoe--that being his pet dream.
+
+Having started farming from necessity, he soon grew so devoted to it
+that it became his favorite and almost his sole occupation. Nicholas was
+a plain farmer: he did not like innovations, especially the English ones
+then coming into vogue. He laughed at theoretical treatises on estate
+management, disliked factories, the raising of expensive products, and
+the buying of expensive seed corn, and did not make a hobby of any
+particular part of the work on his estate. He always had before his
+mind's eye the estate as a whole and not any particular part of it. The
+chief thing in his eyes was not the nitrogen in the soil, nor the oxygen
+in the air, nor manures, nor special plows, but that most important
+agent by which nitrogen, oxygen, manure, and plow were made effective--
+the peasant laborer. When Nicholas first began farming and began to
+understand its different branches, it was the serf who especially
+attracted his attention. The peasant seemed to him not merely a tool,
+but also a judge of farming and an end in himself. At first he watched
+the serfs, trying to understand their aims and what they considered good
+and bad, and only pretended to direct them and give orders while in
+reality learning from them their methods, their manner of speech, and
+their judgment of what was good and bad. Only when he had understood the
+peasants' tastes and aspirations, had learned to talk their language, to
+grasp the hidden meaning of their words, and felt akin to them did he
+begin boldly to manage his serfs, that is, to perform toward them the
+duties demanded of him. And Nicholas' management produced very brilliant
+results.
+
+Guided by some gift of insight, on taking up the management of the
+estates he at once unerringly appointed as bailiff, village elder, and
+delegate, the very men the serfs would themselves have chosen had they
+had the right to choose, and these posts never changed hands. Before
+analyzing the properties of manure, before entering into the debit and
+credit (as he ironically called it), he found out how many cattle the
+peasants had and increased the number by all possible means. He kept the
+peasant families together in the largest groups possible, not allowing
+the family groups to divide into separate households. He was hard alike
+on the lazy, the depraved, and the weak, and tried to get them expelled
+from the commune.
+
+He was as careful of the sowing and reaping of the peasants' hay and
+corn as of his own, and few landowners had their crops sown and
+harvested so early and so well, or got so good a return, as did
+Nicholas.
+
+He disliked having anything to do with the domestic serfs--the "drones"
+as he called them--and everyone said he spoiled them by his laxity. When
+a decision had to be taken regarding a domestic serf, especially if one
+had to be punished, he always felt undecided and consulted everybody in
+the house; but when it was possible to have a domestic serf conscripted
+instead of a land worker he did so without the least hesitation. He
+never felt any hesitation in dealing with the peasants. He knew that his
+every decision would be approved by them all with very few exceptions.
+
+He did not allow himself either to be hard on or punish a man, or to
+make things easy for or reward anyone, merely because he felt inclined
+to do so. He could not have said by what standard he judged what he
+should or should not do, but the standard was quite firm and definite in
+his own mind.
+
+Often, speaking with vexation of some failure or irregularity, he would
+say: "What can one do with our Russian peasants?" and imagined that he
+could not bear them.
+
+Yet he loved "our Russian peasants" and their way of life with his whole
+soul, and for that very reason had understood and assimilated the one
+way and manner of farming which produced good results.
+
+Countess Mary was jealous of this passion of her husband's and regretted
+that she could not share it; but she could not understand the joys and
+vexations he derived from that world, to her so remote and alien. She
+could not understand why he was so particularly animated and happy when,
+after getting up at daybreak and spending the whole morning in the
+fields or on the threshing floor, he returned from the sowing or mowing
+or reaping to have tea with her. She did not understand why he spoke
+with such admiration and delight of the farming of the thrifty and well-
+to-do peasant Matthew Ermishin, who with his family had carted corn all
+night; or of the fact that his (Nicholas') sheaves were already stacked
+before anyone else had his harvest in. She did not understand why he
+stepped out from the window to the veranda and smiled under his mustache
+and winked so joyfully, when warm steady rain began to fall on the dry
+and thirsty shoots of the young oats, or why when the wind carried away
+a threatening cloud during the hay harvest he would return from the
+barn, flushed, sunburned, and perspiring, with a smell of wormwood and
+gentian in his hair and, gleefully rubbing his hands, would say: "Well,
+one more day and my grain and the peasants' will all be under cover."
+
+Still less did she understand why he, kindhearted and always ready to
+anticipate her wishes, should become almost desperate when she brought
+him a petition from some peasant men or women who had appealed to her to
+be excused some work; why he, that kind Nicholas, should obstinately
+refuse her, angrily asking her not to interfere in what was not her
+business. She felt he had a world apart, which he loved passionately and
+which had laws she had not fathomed.
+
+Sometimes when, trying to understand him, she spoke of the good work he
+was doing for his serfs, he would be vexed and reply: "Not in the least;
+it never entered my head and I wouldn't do that for their good! That's
+all poetry and old wives' talk--all that doing good to one's neighbor!
+What I want is that our children should not have to go begging. I must
+put our affairs in order while I am alive, that's all. And to do that,
+order and strictness are essential.... That's all about it!" said he,
+clenching his vigorous fist. "And fairness, of course," he added, "for
+if the peasant is naked and hungry and has only one miserable horse, he
+can do no good either for himself or for me."
+
+And all Nicholas did was fruitful--probably just because he refused to
+allow himself to think that he was doing good to others for virtue's
+sake. His means increased rapidly; serfs from neighboring estates came
+to beg him to buy them, and long after his death the memory of his
+administration was devoutly preserved among the serfs. "He was a
+master... the peasants' affairs first and then his own. Of course he was
+not to be trifled with either--in a word, he was a real master!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+One matter connected with his management sometimes worried Nicholas, and
+that was his quick temper together with his old hussar habit of making
+free use of his fists. At first he saw nothing reprehensible in this,
+but in the second year of his marriage his view of that form of
+punishment suddenly changed.
+
+Once in summer he had sent for the village elder from Bogucharovo, a man
+who had succeeded to the post when Dron died and who was accused of
+dishonesty and various irregularities. Nicholas went out into the porch
+to question him, and immediately after the elder had given a few replies
+the sound of cries and blows were heard. On returning to lunch Nicholas
+went up to his wife, who sat with her head bent low over her embroidery
+frame, and as usual began to tell her what he had been doing that
+morning. Among other things he spoke of the Bogucharovo elder. Countess
+Mary turned red and then pale, but continued to sit with head bowed and
+lips compressed and gave her husband no reply.
+
+"Such an insolent scoundrel!" he cried, growing hot again at the mere
+recollection of him. "If he had told me he was drunk and did not see...
+But what is the matter with you, Mary?" he suddenly asked.
+
+Countess Mary raised her head and tried to speak, but hastily looked
+down again and her lips puckered.
+
+"Why, whatever is the matter, my dearest?"
+
+The looks of the plain Countess Mary always improved when she was in
+tears. She never cried from pain or vexation, but always from sorrow or
+pity, and when she wept her radiant eyes acquired an irresistible charm.
+
+The moment Nicholas took her hand she could no longer restrain herself
+and began to cry.
+
+"Nicholas, I saw it... he was to blame, but why do you... Nicholas!" and
+she covered her face with her hands.
+
+Nicholas said nothing. He flushed crimson, left her side, and paced up
+and down the room. He understood what she was weeping about, but could
+not in his heart at once agree with her that what he had regarded from
+childhood as quite an everyday event was wrong. "Is it just
+sentimentality, old wives' tales, or is she right?" he asked himself.
+Before he had solved that point he glanced again at her face filled with
+love and pain, and he suddenly realized that she was right and that he
+had long been sinning against himself.
+
+"Mary," he said softly, going up to her, "it will never happen again; I
+give you my word. Never," he repeated in a trembling voice like a boy
+asking for forgiveness.
+
+The tears flowed faster still from the countess' eyes. She took his hand
+and kissed it.
+
+"Nicholas, when did you break your cameo?" she asked to change the
+subject, looking at his finger on which he wore a ring with a cameo of
+Laocoon's head.
+
+"Today--it was the same affair. Oh, Mary, don't remind me of it!" and
+again he flushed. "I give you my word of honor it shan't occur again,
+and let this always be a reminder to me," and he pointed to the broken
+ring.
+
+After that, when in discussions with his village elders or stewards the
+blood rushed to his face and his fists began to clench, Nicholas would
+turn the broken ring on his finger and would drop his eyes before the
+man who was making him angry. But he did forget himself once or twice
+within a twelvemonth, and then he would go and confess to his wife, and
+would again promise that this should really be the very last time.
+
+"Mary, you must despise me!" he would say. "I deserve it."
+
+"You should go, go away at once, if you don't feel strong enough to
+control yourself," she would reply sadly, trying to comfort her husband.
+
+Among the gentry of the province Nicholas was respected but not liked.
+He did not concern himself with the interests of his own class, and
+consequently some thought him proud and others thought him stupid. The
+whole summer, from spring sowing to harvest, he was busy with the work
+on his farm. In autumn he gave himself up to hunting with the same
+business-like seriousness--leaving home for a month, or even two, with
+his hunt. In winter he visited his other villages or spent his time
+reading. The books he read were chiefly historical, and on these he
+spent a certain sum every year. He was collecting, as he said, a serious
+library, and he made it a rule to read through all the books he bought.
+He would sit in his study with a grave air, reading--a task he first
+imposed upon himself as a duty, but which afterwards became a habit
+affording him a special kind of pleasure and a consciousness of being
+occupied with serious matters. In winter, except for business
+excursions, he spent most of his time at home making himself one with
+his family and entering into all the details of his children's relations
+with their mother. The harmony between him and his wife grew closer and
+closer and he daily discovered fresh spiritual treasures in her.
+
+From the time of his marriage Sonya had lived in his house. Before that,
+Nicholas had told his wife all that had passed between himself and
+Sonya, blaming himself and commending her. He had asked Princess Mary to
+be gentle and kind to his cousin. She thoroughly realized the wrong he
+had done Sonya, felt herself to blame toward her, and imagined that her
+wealth had influenced Nicholas' choice. She could not find fault with
+Sonya in any way and tried to be fond of her, but often felt ill-will
+toward her which she could not overcome.
+
+Once she had a talk with her friend Natasha about Sonya and about her
+own injustice toward her.
+
+"You know," said Natasha, "you have read the Gospels a great deal--there
+is a passage in them that just fits Sonya."
+
+"What?" asked Countess Mary, surprised.
+
+"'To him that hath shall be given, and from him that hath not shall be
+taken away.' You remember? She is one that hath not; why, I don't know.
+Perhaps she lacks egotism, I don't know, but from her is taken away, and
+everything has been taken away. Sometimes I am dreadfully sorry for her.
+Formerly I very much wanted Nicholas to marry her, but I always had a
+sort of presentiment that it would not come off. She is a sterile
+flower, you know--like some strawberry blossoms. Sometimes I am sorry
+for her, and sometimes I think she doesn't feel it as you or I would."
+
+Though Countess Mary told Natasha that those words in the Gospel must be
+understood differently, yet looking at Sonya she agreed with Natasha's
+explanation. It really seemed that Sonya did not feel her position
+trying, and had grown quite reconciled to her lot as a sterile flower.
+She seemed to be fond not so much of individuals as of the family as a
+whole. Like a cat, she had attached herself not to the people but to the
+home. She waited on the old countess, petted and spoiled the children,
+was always ready to render the small services for which she had a gift,
+and all this was unconsciously accepted from her with insufficient
+gratitude.
+
+The country seat at Bald Hills had been rebuilt, though not on the same
+scale as under the old prince.
+
+The buildings, begun under straitened circumstances, were more than
+simple. The immense house on the old stone foundations was of wood,
+plastered only inside. It had bare deal floors and was furnished with
+very simple hard sofas, armchairs, tables, and chairs made by their own
+serf carpenters out of their own birchwood. The house was spacious and
+had rooms for the house serfs and apartments for visitors. Whole
+families of the Rostovs' and Bolkonskis' relations sometimes came to
+Bald Hills with sixteen horses and dozens of servants and stayed for
+months. Besides that, four times a year, on the name days and birthdays
+of the hosts, as many as a hundred visitors would gather there for a day
+or two. The rest of the year life pursued its unbroken routine with its
+ordinary occupations, and its breakfasts, lunches, dinners, and suppers,
+provided out of the produce of the estate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+It was the eve of St. Nicholas, the fifth of December, 1820. Natasha had
+been staying at her brother's with her husband and children since early
+autumn. Pierre had gone to Petersburg on business of his own for three
+weeks as he said, but had remained there nearly seven weeks and was
+expected back every minute.
+
+Besides the Bezukhov family, Nicholas' old friend the retired General
+Vasili Dmitrich Denisov was staying with the Rostovs this fifth of
+December.
+
+On the sixth, which was his name day when the house would be full of
+visitors, Nicholas knew he would have to exchange his Tartar tunic for a
+tail coat, and put on narrow boots with pointed toes, and drive to the
+new church he had built, and then receive visitors who would come to
+congratulate him, offer them refreshments, and talk about the elections
+of the nobility; but he considered himself entitled to spend the eve of
+that day in his usual way. He examined the bailiff's accounts of the
+village in Ryazan which belonged to his wife's nephew, wrote two
+business letters, and walked over to the granaries, cattle yards and
+stables before dinner. Having taken precautions against the general
+drunkenness to be expected on the morrow because it was a great saint's
+day, he returned to dinner, and without having time for a private talk
+with his wife sat down at the long table laid for twenty persons, at
+which the whole household had assembled. At that table were his mother,
+his mother's old lady companion Belova, his wife, their three children
+with their governess and tutor, his wife's nephew with his tutor, Sonya,
+Denisov, Natasha, her three children, their governess, and old Michael
+Ivanovich, the late prince's architect, who was living on in retirement
+at Bald Hills.
+
+Countess Mary sat at the other end of the table. When her husband took
+his place she concluded, from the rapid manner in which after taking up
+his table napkin he pushed back the tumbler and wineglass standing
+before him, that he was out of humor, as was sometimes the case when he
+came in to dinner straight from the farm--especially before the soup.
+Countess Mary well knew that mood of his, and when she herself was in a
+good frame of mind quietly waited till he had had his soup and then
+began to talk to him and make him admit that there was no cause for his
+ill-humor. But today she quite forgot that and was hurt that he should
+be angry with her without any reason, and she felt unhappy. She asked
+him where he had been. He replied. She again inquired whether everything
+was going well on the farm. Her unnatural tone made him wince
+unpleasantly and he replied hastily.
+
+"Then I'm not mistaken," thought Countess Mary. "Why is he cross with
+me?" She concluded from his tone that he was vexed with her and wished
+to end the conversation. She knew her remarks sounded unnatural, but
+could not refrain from asking some more questions.
+
+Thanks to Denisov the conversation at table soon became general and
+lively, and she did not talk to her husband. When they left the table
+and went as usual to thank the old countess, Countess Mary held out her
+hand and kissed her husband, and asked him why he was angry with her.
+
+"You always have such strange fancies! I didn't even think of being
+angry," he replied.
+
+But the word always seemed to her to imply: "Yes, I am angry but I won't
+tell you why."
+
+Nicholas and his wife lived together so happily that even Sonya and the
+old countess, who felt jealous and would have liked them to disagree,
+could find nothing to reproach them with; but even they had their
+moments of antagonism. Occasionally, and it was always just after they
+had been happiest together, they suddenly had a feeling of estrangement
+and hostility, which occurred most frequently during Countess Mary's
+pregnancies, and this was such a time.
+
+"Well, messieurs et mesdames," said Nicholas loudly and with apparent
+cheerfulness (it seemed to Countess Mary that he did it on purpose to
+vex her), "I have been on my feet since six this morning. Tomorrow I
+shall have to suffer, so today I'll go and rest."
+
+And without a word to his wife he went to the little sitting room and
+lay down on the sofa.
+
+"That's always the way," thought Countess Mary. "He talks to everyone
+except me. I see... I see that I am repulsive to him, especially when I
+am in this condition." She looked down at her expanded figure and in the
+glass at her pale, sallow, emaciated face in which her eyes now looked
+larger than ever.
+
+And everything annoyed her--Denisov's shouting and laughter, Natasha's
+talk, and especially a quick glance Sonya gave her.
+
+Sonya was always the first excuse Countess Mary found for feeling
+irritated.
+
+Having sat awhile with her visitors without understanding anything of
+what they were saying, she softly left the room and went to the nursery.
+
+The children were playing at "going to Moscow" in a carriage made of
+chairs and invited her to go with them. She sat down and played with
+them a little, but the thought of her husband and his unreasonable
+crossness worried her. She got up and, walking on tiptoe with
+difficulty, went to the small sitting room.
+
+"Perhaps he is not asleep; I'll have an explanation with him," she said
+to herself. Little Andrew, her eldest boy, imitating his mother,
+followed her on tiptoe. She did not notice him.
+
+"Mary, dear, I think he is asleep--he was so tired," said Sonya, meeting
+her in the large sitting room (it seemed to Countess Mary that she
+crossed her path everywhere). "Andrew may wake him."
+
+Countess Mary looked round, saw little Andrew following her, felt that
+Sonya was right, and for that very reason flushed and with evident
+difficulty refrained from saying something harsh. She made no reply, but
+to avoid obeying Sonya beckoned to Andrew to follow her quietly and went
+to the door. Sonya went away by another door. From the room in which
+Nicholas was sleeping came the sound of his even breathing, every
+slightest tone of which was familiar to his wife. As she listened to it
+she saw before her his smooth handsome forehead, his mustache, and his
+whole face, as she had so often seen it in the stillness of the night
+when he slept. Nicholas suddenly moved and cleared his throat. And at
+that moment little Andrew shouted from outside the door: "Papa! Mamma's
+standing here!" Countess Mary turned pale with fright and made signs to
+the boy. He grew silent, and quiet ensued for a moment, terrible to
+Countess Mary. She knew how Nicholas disliked being waked. Then through
+the door she heard Nicholas clearing his throat again and stirring, and
+his voice said crossly:
+
+"I can't get a moment's peace.... Mary, is that you? Why did you bring
+him here?"
+
+"I only came in to look and did not notice... forgive me..."
+
+Nicholas coughed and said no more. Countess Mary moved away from the
+door and took the boy back to the nursery. Five minutes later little
+black-eyed three-year-old Natasha, her father's pet, having learned from
+her brother that Papa was asleep and Mamma was in the sitting room, ran
+to her father unobserved by her mother. The dark-eyed little girl boldly
+opened the creaking door, went up to the sofa with energetic steps of
+her sturdy little legs, and having examined the position of her father,
+who was asleep with his back to her, rose on tiptoe and kissed the hand
+which lay under his head. Nicholas turned with a tender smile on his
+face.
+
+"Natasha, Natasha!" came Countess Mary's frightened whisper from the
+door. "Papa wants to sleep."
+
+"No, Mamma, he doesn't want to sleep," said little Natasha with
+conviction. "He's laughing."
+
+Nicholas lowered his legs, rose, and took his daughter in his arms.
+
+"Come in, Mary," he said to his wife.
+
+She went in and sat down by her husband.
+
+"I did not notice him following me," she said timidly. "I just looked
+in."
+
+Holding his little girl with one arm, Nicholas glanced at his wife and,
+seeing her guilty expression, put his other arm around her and kissed
+her hair.
+
+"May I kiss Mamma?" he asked Natasha.
+
+Natasha smiled bashfully.
+
+"Again!" she commanded, pointing with a peremptory gesture to the spot
+where Nicholas had placed the kiss.
+
+"I don't know why you think I am cross," said Nicholas, replying to the
+question he knew was in his wife's mind.
+
+"You have no idea how unhappy, how lonely, I feel when you are like
+that. It always seems to me..."
+
+"Mary, don't talk nonsense. You ought to be ashamed of yourself!" he
+said gaily.
+
+"It seems to be that you can't love me, that I am so plain... always...
+and now... in this cond..."
+
+"Oh, how absurd you are! It is not beauty that endears, it's love that
+makes us see beauty. It is only Malvinas and women of that kind who are
+loved for their beauty. But do I love my wife? I don't love her, but...
+I don't know how to put it. Without you, or when something comes between
+us like this, I seem lost and can't do anything. Now do I love my
+finger? I don't love it, but just try to cut it off!"
+
+"I'm not like that myself, but I understand. So you're not angry with
+me?"
+
+"Awfully angry!" he said, smiling and getting up. And smoothing his hair
+he began to pace the room.
+
+"Do you know, Mary, what I've been thinking?" he began, immediately
+thinking aloud in his wife's presence now that they had made it up.
+
+He did not ask if she was ready to listen to him. He did not care. A
+thought had occurred to him and so it belonged to her also. And he told
+her of his intention to persuade Pierre to stay with them till spring.
+
+Countess Mary listened till he had finished, made some remark, and in
+her turn began thinking aloud. Her thoughts were about the children.
+
+"You can see the woman in her already," she said in French, pointing to
+little Natasha. "You reproach us women with being illogical. Here is our
+logic. I say: 'Papa wants to sleep!' but she says, 'No, he's laughing.'
+And she was right," said Countess Mary with a happy smile.
+
+"Yes, yes." And Nicholas, taking his little daughter in his strong hand,
+lifted her high, placed her on his shoulder, held her by the legs, and
+paced the room with her. There was an expression of carefree happiness
+on the faces of both father and daughter.
+
+"But you know you may be unfair. You are too fond of this one," his wife
+whispered in French.
+
+"Yes, but what am I to do?... I try not to show..."
+
+At that moment they heard the sound of the door pulley and footsteps in
+the hall and anteroom, as if someone had arrived.
+
+"Somebody has come."
+
+"I am sure it is Pierre. I will go and see," said Countess Mary and left
+the room.
+
+In her absence Nicholas allowed himself to give his little daughter a
+gallop round the room. Out of breath, he took the laughing child quickly
+from his shoulder and pressed her to his heart. His capers reminded him
+of dancing, and looking at the child's round happy little face he
+thought of what she would be like when he was an old man, taking her
+into society and dancing the mazurka with her as his old father had
+danced Daniel Cooper with his daughter.
+
+"It is he, it is he, Nicholas!" said Countess Mary, re-entering the room
+a few minutes later. "Now our Natasha has come to life. You should have
+seen her ecstasy, and how he caught it for having stayed away so long.
+Well, come along now, quick, quick! It's time you two were parted," she
+added, looking smilingly at the little girl who clung to her father.
+
+Nicholas went out holding the child by the hand.
+
+Countess Mary remained in the sitting room.
+
+"I should never, never have believed that one could be so happy," she
+whispered to herself. A smile lit up her face but at the same time she
+sighed, and her deep eyes expressed a quiet sadness as though she felt,
+through her happiness, that there is another sort of happiness
+unattainable in this life and of which she involuntarily thought at that
+instant.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+Natasha had married in the early spring of 1813, and in 1820 already had
+three daughters besides a son for whom she had longed and whom she was
+now nursing. She had grown stouter and broader, so that it was difficult
+to recognize in this robust, motherly woman the slim, lively Natasha of
+former days. Her features were more defined and had a calm, soft, and
+serene expression. In her face there was none of the ever-glowing
+animation that had formerly burned there and constituted its charm. Now
+her face and body were often all that one saw, and her soul was not
+visible at all. All that struck the eye was a strong, handsome, and
+fertile woman. The old fire very rarely kindled in her face now. That
+happened only when, as was the case that day, her husband returned home,
+or a sick child was convalescent, or when she and Countess Mary spoke of
+Prince Andrew (she never mentioned him to her husband, who she imagined
+was jealous of Prince Andrew's memory), or on the rare occasions when
+something happened to induce her to sing, a practice she had quite
+abandoned since her marriage. At the rare moments when the old fire did
+kindle in her handsome, fully developed body she was even more
+attractive than in former days.
+
+Since their marriage Natasha and her husband had lived in Moscow, in
+Petersburg, on their estate near Moscow, or with her mother, that is to
+say, in Nicholas' house. The young Countess Bezukhova was not often seen
+in society, and those who met her there were not pleased with her and
+found her neither attractive nor amiable. Not that Natasha liked
+solitude--she did not know whether she liked it or not, she even thought
+that she did not--but with her pregnancies, her confinements, the
+nursing of her children, and sharing every moment of her husband's life,
+she had demands on her time which could be satisfied only by renouncing
+society. All who had known Natasha before her marriage wondered at the
+change in her as at something extraordinary. Only the old countess with
+her maternal instinct had realized that all Natasha's outbursts had been
+due to her need of children and a husband--as she herself had once
+exclaimed at Otradnoe not so much in fun as in earnest--and her mother
+was now surprised at the surprise expressed by those who had never
+understood Natasha, and she kept saying that she had always known that
+Natasha would make an exemplary wife and mother.
+
+"Only she lets her love of her husband and children overflow all
+bounds," said the countess, "so that it even becomes absurd."
+
+Natasha did not follow the golden rule advocated by clever folk,
+especially by the French, which says that a girl should not let herself
+go when she marries, should not neglect her accomplishments, should be
+even more careful of her appearance than when she was unmarried, and
+should fascinate her husband as much as she did before he became her
+husband. Natasha on the contrary had at once abandoned all her witchery,
+of which her singing had been an unusually powerful part. She gave it up
+just because it was so powerfully seductive. She took no pains with her
+manners or with delicacy of speech, or with her toilet, or to show
+herself to her husband in her most becoming attitudes, or to avoid
+inconveniencing him by being too exacting. She acted in contradiction to
+all those rules. She felt that the allurements instinct had formerly
+taught her to use would now be merely ridiculous in the eyes of her
+husband, to whom she had from the first moment given herself up
+entirely--that is, with her whole soul, leaving no corner of it hidden
+from him. She felt that her unity with her husband was not maintained by
+the poetic feelings that had attracted him to her, but by something
+else--indefinite but firm as the bond between her own body and soul.
+
+To fluff out her curls, put on fashionable dresses, and sing romantic
+songs to fascinate her husband would have seemed as strange as to adorn
+herself to attract herself. To adorn herself for others might perhaps
+have been agreeable--she did not know--but she had no time at all for
+it. The chief reason for devoting no time either to singing, to dress,
+or to choosing her words was that she really had no time to spare for
+these things.
+
+We know that man has the faculty of becoming completely absorbed in a
+subject however trivial it may be, and that there is no subject so
+trivial that it will not grow to infinite proportions if one's entire
+attention is devoted to it.
+
+The subject which wholly engrossed Natasha's attention was her family:
+that is, her husband whom she had to keep so that he should belong
+entirely to her and to the home, and the children whom she had to bear,
+bring into the world, nurse, and bring up.
+
+And the deeper she penetrated, not with her mind only but with her whole
+soul, her whole being, into the subject that absorbed her, the larger
+did that subject grow and the weaker and more inadequate did her powers
+appear, so that she concentrated them wholly on that one thing and yet
+was unable to accomplish all that she considered necessary.
+
+There were then as now conversations and discussions about women's
+rights, the relations of husband and wife and their freedom and rights,
+though these themes were not yet termed questions as they are now; but
+these topics were not merely uninteresting to Natasha, she positively
+did not understand them.
+
+These questions, then as now, existed only for those who see nothing in
+marriage but the pleasure married people get from one another, that is,
+only the beginnings of marriage and not its whole significance, which
+lies in the family.
+
+Discussions and questions of that kind, which are like the question of
+how to get the greatest gratification from one's dinner, did not then
+and do not now exist for those for whom the purpose of a dinner is the
+nourishment it affords; and the purpose of marriage is the family.
+
+If the purpose of dinner is to nourish the body, a man who eats two
+dinners at once may perhaps get more enjoyment but will not attain his
+purpose, for his stomach will not digest the two dinners.
+
+If the purpose of marriage is the family, the person who wishes to have
+many wives or husbands may perhaps obtain much pleasure, but in that
+case will not have a family.
+
+If the purpose of food is nourishment and the purpose of marriage is the
+family, the whole question resolves itself into not eating more than one
+can digest, and not having more wives or husbands than are needed for
+the family--that is, one wife or one husband. Natasha needed a husband.
+A husband was given her and he gave her a family. And she not only saw
+no need of any other or better husband, but as all the powers of her
+soul were intent on serving that husband and family, she could not
+imagine and saw no interest in imagining how it would be if things were
+different.
+
+Natasha did not care for society in general, but prized the more the
+society of her relatives--Countess Mary, and her brother, her mother,
+and Sonya. She valued the company of those to whom she could come
+striding disheveled from the nursery in her dressing gown, and with
+joyful face show a yellow instead of a green stain on baby's napkin, and
+from whom she could hear reassuring words to the effect that baby was
+much better.
+
+To such an extent had Natasha let herself go that the way she dressed
+and did her hair, her ill-chosen words, and her jealousy--she was
+jealous of Sonya, of the governess, and of every woman, pretty or plain-
+-were habitual subjects of jest to those about her. The general opinion
+was that Pierre was under his wife's thumb, which was really true. From
+the very first days of their married life Natasha had announced her
+demands. Pierre was greatly surprised by his wife's view, to him a
+perfectly novel one, that every moment of his life belonged to her and
+to the family. His wife's demands astonished him, but they also
+flattered him, and he submitted to them.
+
+Pierre's subjection consisted in the fact that he not only dared not
+flirt with, but dared not even speak smilingly to, any other woman; did
+not dare dine at the club as a pastime, did not dare spend money on a
+whim, and did not dare absent himself for any length of time, except on
+business--in which his wife included his intellectual pursuits, which
+she did not in the least understand but to which she attributed great
+importance. To make up for this, at home Pierre had the right to
+regulate his life and that of the whole family exactly as he chose. At
+home Natasha placed herself in the position of a slave to her husband,
+and the whole household went on tiptoe when he was occupied--that is,
+was reading or writing in his study. Pierre had but to show a partiality
+for anything to get just what he liked done always. He had only to
+express a wish and Natasha would jump up and run to fulfill it.
+
+The entire household was governed according to Pierre's supposed orders,
+that is, by his wishes which Natasha tried to guess. Their way of life
+and place of residence, their acquaintances and ties, Natasha's
+occupations, the children's upbringing, were all selected not merely
+with regard to Pierre's expressed wishes, but to what Natasha from the
+thoughts he expressed in conversation supposed his wishes to be. And she
+deduced the essentials of his wishes quite correctly, and having once
+arrived at them clung to them tenaciously. When Pierre himself wanted to
+change his mind she would fight him with his own weapons.
+
+Thus in a time of trouble ever memorable to him after the birth of their
+first child who was delicate, when they had to change the wet nurse
+three times and Natasha fell ill from despair, Pierre one day told her
+of Rousseau's view, with which he quite agreed, that to have a wet nurse
+is unnatural and harmful. When her next baby was born, despite the
+opposition of her mother, the doctors, and even of her husband himself--
+who were all vigorously opposed to her nursing her baby herself, a thing
+then unheard of and considered injurious--she insisted on having her own
+way, and after that nursed all her babies herself.
+
+It very often happened that in a moment of irritation husband and wife
+would have a dispute, but long afterwards Pierre to his surprise and
+delight would find in his wife's ideas and actions the very thought
+against which she had argued, but divested of everything superfluous
+that in the excitement of the dispute he had added when expressing his
+opinion.
+
+After seven years of marriage Pierre had the joyous and firm
+consciousness that he was not a bad man, and he felt this because he saw
+himself reflected in his wife. He felt the good and bad within himself
+inextricably mingled and overlapping. But only what was really good in
+him was reflected in his wife, all that was not quite good was rejected.
+And this was not the result of logical reasoning but was a direct and
+mysterious reflection.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+Two months previously when Pierre was already staying with the Rostovs
+he had received a letter from Prince Theodore, asking him to come to
+Petersburg to confer on some important questions that were being
+discussed there by a society of which Pierre was one of the principal
+founders.
+
+On reading that letter (she always read her husband's letters) Natasha
+herself suggested that he should go to Petersburg, though she would feel
+his absence very acutely. She attributed immense importance to all her
+husband's intellectual and abstract interests though she did not
+understand them, and she always dreaded being a hindrance to him in such
+matters. To Pierre's timid look of inquiry after reading the letter she
+replied by asking him to go, but to fix a definite date for his return.
+He was given four weeks' leave of absence.
+
+Ever since that leave of absence had expired, more than a fortnight
+before, Natasha had been in a constant state of alarm, depression, and
+irritability.
+
+Denisov, now a general on the retired list and much dissatisfied with
+the present state of affairs, had arrived during that fortnight. He
+looked at Natasha with sorrow and surprise as at a bad likeness of a
+person once dear. A dull, dejected look, random replies, and talk about
+the nursery was all he saw and heard from his former enchantress.
+
+Natasha was sad and irritable all that time, especially when her mother,
+her brother, Sonya, or Countess Mary in their efforts to console her
+tried to excuse Pierre and suggested reasons for his delay in returning.
+
+"It's all nonsense, all rubbish--those discussions which lead to nothing
+and all those idiotic societies!" Natasha declared of the very affairs
+in the immense importance of which she firmly believed.
+
+And she would go to the nursery to nurse Petya, her only boy. No one
+else could tell her anything so comforting or so reasonable as this
+little three-month-old creature when he lay at her breast and she was
+conscious of the movement of his lips and the snuffling of his little
+nose. That creature said: "You are angry, you are jealous, you would
+like to pay him out, you are afraid--but here am I! And I am he..." and
+that was unanswerable. It was more than true.
+
+During that fortnight of anxiety Natasha resorted to the baby for
+comfort so often, and fussed over him so much, that she overfed him and
+he fell ill. She was terrified by his illness, and yet that was just
+what she needed. While attending to him she bore the anxiety about her
+husband more easily.
+
+She was nursing her boy when the sound of Pierre's sleigh was heard at
+the front door, and the old nurse--knowing how to please her mistress--
+entered the room inaudibly but hurriedly and with a beaming face.
+
+"Has he come?" Natasha asked quickly in a whisper, afraid to move lest
+she should rouse the dozing baby.
+
+"He's come, ma'am," whispered the nurse.
+
+The blood rushed to Natasha's face and her feet involuntarily moved, but
+she could not jump up and run out. The baby again opened his eyes and
+looked at her. "You're here?" he seemed to be saying, and again lazily
+smacked his lips.
+
+Cautiously withdrawing her breast, Natasha rocked him a little, handed
+him to the nurse, and went with rapid steps toward the door. But at the
+door she stopped as if her conscience reproached her for having in her
+joy left the child too soon, and she glanced round. The nurse with
+raised elbows was lifting the infant over the rail of his cot.
+
+"Go, ma'am! Don't worry, go!" she whispered, smiling, with the kind of
+familiarity that grows up between a nurse and her mistress.
+
+Natasha ran with light footsteps to the anteroom.
+
+Denisov, who had come out of the study into the dancing room with his
+pipe, now for the first time recognized the old Natasha. A flood of
+brilliant, joyful light poured from her transfigured face.
+
+"He's come!" she exclaimed as she ran past, and Denisov felt that he too
+was delighted that Pierre, whom he did not much care for, had returned.
+
+On reaching the vestibule Natasha saw a tall figure in a fur coat
+unwinding his scarf. "It's he! It's really he! He has come!" she said to
+herself, and rushing at him embraced him, pressed his head to her
+breast, and then pushed him back and gazed at his ruddy, happy face,
+covered with hoarfrost. "Yes, it is he, happy and contented..."
+
+Then all at once she remembered the tortures of suspense she had
+experienced for the last fortnight, and the joy that had lit up her face
+vanished; she frowned and overwhelmed Pierre with a torrent of
+reproaches and angry words.
+
+"Yes, it's all very well for you. You are pleased, you've had a good
+time.... But what about me? You might at least have shown consideration
+for the children. I am nursing and my milk was spoiled.... Petya was at
+death's door. But you were enjoying yourself. Yes, enjoying..."
+
+Pierre knew he was not to blame, for he could not have come sooner; he
+knew this outburst was unseemly and would blow over in a minute or two;
+above all he knew that he himself was bright and happy. He wanted to
+smile but dared not even think of doing so. He made a piteous,
+frightened face and bent down.
+
+"I could not, on my honor. But how is Petya?"
+
+"All right now. Come along! I wonder you're not ashamed! If only you
+could see what I was like without you, how I suffered!"
+
+"You are well?"
+
+"Come, come!" she said, not letting go of his arm. And they went to
+their rooms.
+
+When Nicholas and his wife came to look for Pierre he was in the nursery
+holding his baby son, who was again awake, on his huge right palm and
+dandling him. A blissful bright smile was fixed on the baby's broad face
+with its toothless open mouth. The storm was long since over and there
+was bright, joyous sunshine on Natasha's face as she gazed tenderly at
+her husband and child.
+
+"And have you talked everything well over with Prince Theodore?" she
+asked.
+
+"Yes, capitally."
+
+"You see, he holds it up." (She meant the baby's head.) "But how he did
+frighten me... You've seen the princess? Is it true she's in love with
+that..."
+
+"Yes, just fancy..."
+
+At that moment Nicholas and Countess Mary came in. Pierre with the baby
+on his hand stooped, kissed them, and replied to their inquiries. But in
+spite of much that was interesting and had to be discussed, the baby
+with the little cap on its unsteady head evidently absorbed all his
+attention.
+
+"How sweet!" said Countess Mary, looking at and playing with the baby.
+"Now, Nicholas," she added, turning to her husband, "I can't understand
+how it is you don't see the charm of these delicious marvels."
+
+"I don't and can't," replied Nicholas, looking coldly at the baby. "A
+lump of flesh. Come along, Pierre!"
+
+"And yet he's such an affectionate father," said Countess Mary,
+vindicating her husband, "but only after they are a year old or so..."
+
+"Now, Pierre nurses them splendidly," said Natasha. "He says his hand is
+just made for a baby's seat. Just look!"
+
+"Only not for this..." Pierre suddenly exclaimed with a laugh, and
+shifting the baby he gave him to the nurse.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+As in every large household, there were at Bald Hills several perfectly
+distinct worlds which merged into one harmonious whole, though each
+retained its own peculiarities and made concessions to the others. Every
+event, joyful or sad, that took place in that house was important to all
+these worlds, but each had its own special reasons to rejoice or grieve
+over that occurrence independently of the others.
+
+For instance, Pierre's return was a joyful and important event and they
+all felt it to be so.
+
+The servants--the most reliable judges of their masters because they
+judge not by their conversation or expressions of feeling but by their
+acts and way of life--were glad of Pierre's return because they knew
+that when he was there Count Nicholas would cease going every day to
+attend to the estate, and would be in better spirits and temper, and
+also because they would all receive handsome presents for the holidays.
+
+The children and their governesses were glad of Pierre's return because
+no one else drew them into the social life of the household as he did.
+He alone could play on the clavichord that ecossaise (his only piece) to
+which, as he said, all possible dances could be danced, and they felt
+sure he had brought presents for them all.
+
+Young Nicholas, now a slim lad of fifteen, delicate and intelligent,
+with curly light-brown hair and beautiful eyes, was delighted because
+Uncle Pierre as he called him was the object of his rapturous and
+passionate affection. No one had instilled into him this love for Pierre
+whom he saw only occasionally. Countess Mary who had brought him up had
+done her utmost to make him love her husband as she loved him, and
+little Nicholas did love his uncle, but loved him with just a shade of
+contempt. Pierre, however, he adored. He did not want to be an hussar or
+a Knight of St. George like his uncle Nicholas; he wanted to be learned,
+wise, and kind like Pierre. In Pierre's presence his face always shone
+with pleasure and he flushed and was breathless when Pierre spoke to
+him. He did not miss a single word he uttered, and would afterwards,
+with Dessalles or by himself, recall and reconsider the meaning of
+everything Pierre had said. Pierre's past life and his unhappiness prior
+to 1812 (of which young Nicholas had formed a vague poetic picture from
+some words he had overheard), his adventures in Moscow, his captivity,
+Platon Karataev (of whom he had heard from Pierre), his love for Natasha
+(of whom the lad was also particularly fond), and especially Pierre's
+friendship with the father whom Nicholas could not remember--all this
+made Pierre in his eyes a hero and a saint.
+
+From broken remarks about Natasha and his father, from the emotion with
+which Pierre spoke of that dead father, and from the careful, reverent
+tenderness with which Natasha spoke of him, the boy, who was only just
+beginning to guess what love is, derived the notion that his father had
+loved Natasha and when dying had left her to his friend. But the father
+whom the boy did not remember appeared to him a divinity who could not
+be pictured, and of whom he never thought without a swelling heart and
+tears of sadness and rapture. So the boy also was happy that Pierre had
+arrived.
+
+The guests welcomed Pierre because he always helped to enliven and unite
+any company he was in.
+
+The grown-up members of the family, not to mention his wife, were
+pleased to have back a friend whose presence made life run more smoothly
+and peacefully.
+
+The old ladies were pleased with the presents he brought them, and
+especially that Natasha would now be herself again.
+
+Pierre felt the different outlooks of these various worlds and made
+haste to satisfy all their expectations.
+
+Though the most absent-minded and forgetful of men, Pierre, with the aid
+of a list his wife drew up, had now bought everything, not forgetting
+his mother--and brother-in-law's commissions, nor the dress material for
+a present to Belova, nor toys for his wife's nephews. In the early days
+of his marriage it had seemed strange to him that his wife should expect
+him not to forget to procure all the things he undertook to buy, and he
+had been taken aback by her serious annoyance when on his first trip he
+forgot everything. But in time he grew used to this demand. Knowing that
+Natasha asked nothing for herself, and gave him commissions for others
+only when he himself had offered to undertake them, he now found an
+unexpected and childlike pleasure in this purchase of presents for
+everyone in the house, and never forgot anything. If he now incurred
+Natasha's censure it was only for buying too many and too expensive
+things. To her other defects (as most people thought them, but which to
+Pierre were qualities) of untidiness and neglect of herself, she now
+added stinginess.
+
+From the time that Pierre began life as a family man on a footing
+entailing heavy expenditure, he had noticed to his surprise that he
+spent only half as much as before, and that his affairs--which had been
+in disorder of late, chiefly because of his first wife's debts--had
+begun to improve.
+
+Life was cheaper because it was circumscribed: that most expensive
+luxury, the kind of life that can be changed at any moment, was no
+longer his nor did he wish for it. He felt that his way of life had now
+been settled once for all till death and that to change it was not in
+his power, and so that way of life proved economical.
+
+With a merry, smiling face Pierre was sorting his purchases.
+
+"What do you think of this?" said he, unrolling a piece of stuff like a
+shopman.
+
+Natasha, who was sitting opposite to him with her eldest daughter on her
+lap, turned her sparkling eyes swiftly from her husband to the things he
+showed her.
+
+"That's for Belova? Excellent!" She felt the quality of the material.
+"It was a ruble an arshin, I suppose?"
+
+Pierre told her the price.
+
+"Too dear!" Natasha remarked. "How pleased the children will be and
+Mamma too! Only you need not have bought me this," she added, unable to
+suppress a smile as she gazed admiringly at a gold comb set with pearls,
+of a kind then just coming into fashion.
+
+"Adele tempted me: she kept on telling me to buy it," returned Pierre.
+
+"When am I to wear it?" and Natasha stuck it in her coil of hair. "When
+I take little Masha into society? Perhaps they will be fashionable again
+by then. Well, let's go now."
+
+And collecting the presents they went first to the nursery and then to
+the old countess' rooms.
+
+The countess was sitting with her companion Belova, playing grand-
+patience as usual, when Pierre and Natasha came into the drawing room
+with parcels under their arms.
+
+The countess was now over sixty, was quite gray, and wore a cap with a
+frill that surrounded her face. Her face had shriveled, her upper lip
+had sunk in, and her eyes were dim.
+
+After the deaths of her son and husband in such rapid succession, she
+felt herself a being accidentally forgotten in this world and left
+without aim or object for her existence. She ate, drank, slept, or kept
+awake, but did not live. Life gave her no new impressions. She wanted
+nothing from life but tranquillity, and that tranquillity only death
+could give her. But until death came she had to go on living, that is,
+to use her vital forces. A peculiarity one sees in very young children
+and very old people was particularly evident in her. Her life had no
+external aims--only a need to exercise her various functions and
+inclinations was apparent. She had to eat, sleep, think, speak, weep,
+work, give vent to her anger, and so on, merely because she had a
+stomach, a brain, muscles, nerves, and a liver. She did these things not
+under any external impulse as people in the full vigor of life do, when
+behind the purpose for which they strive that of exercising their
+functions remains unnoticed. She talked only because she physically
+needed to exercise her tongue and lungs. She cried as a child does,
+because her nose had to be cleared, and so on. What for people in their
+full vigor is an aim was for her evidently merely a pretext.
+
+Thus in the morning--especially if she had eaten anything rich the day
+before--she felt a need of being angry and would choose as the handiest
+pretext Belova's deafness.
+
+She would begin to say something to her in a low tone from the other end
+of the room.
+
+"It seems a little warmer today, my dear," she would murmur.
+
+And when Belova replied: "Oh yes, they've come," she would mutter
+angrily: "O Lord! How stupid and deaf she is!"
+
+Another pretext would be her snuff, which would seem too dry or too damp
+or not rubbed fine enough. After these fits of irritability her face
+would grow yellow, and her maids knew by infallible symptoms when Belova
+would again be deaf, the snuff damp, and the countess' face yellow. Just
+as she needed to work off her spleen so she had sometimes to exercise
+her still-existing faculty of thinking--and the pretext for that was a
+game of patience. When she needed to cry, the deceased count would be
+the pretext. When she wanted to be agitated, Nicholas and his health
+would be the pretext, and when she felt a need to speak spitefully, the
+pretext would be Countess Mary. When her vocal organs needed exercise,
+which was usually toward seven o'clock when she had had an after-dinner
+rest in a darkened room, the pretext would be the retelling of the same
+stories over and over again to the same audience.
+
+The old lady's condition was understood by the whole household though no
+one ever spoke of it, and they all made every possible effort to satisfy
+her needs. Only by a rare glance exchanged with a sad smile between
+Nicholas, Pierre, Natasha, and Countess Mary was the common
+understanding of her condition expressed.
+
+But those glances expressed something more: they said that she had
+played her part in life, that what they now saw was not her whole self,
+that we must all become like her, and that they were glad to yield to
+her, to restrain themselves for this once precious being formerly as
+full of life as themselves, but now so much to be pitied. "Memento
+mori," said these glances.
+
+Only the really heartless, the stupid ones of that household, and the
+little children failed to understand this and avoided her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+When Pierre and his wife entered the drawing room the countess was in
+one of her customary states in which she needed the mental exertion of
+playing patience, and so--though by force of habit she greeted him with
+the words she always used when Pierre or her son returned after an
+absence: "High time, my dear, high time! We were all weary of waiting
+for you. Well, thank God!" and received her presents with another
+customary remark: "It's not the gift that's precious, my dear, but that
+you give it to me, an old woman..."--yet it was evident that she was not
+pleased by Pierre's arrival at that moment when it diverted her
+attention from the unfinished game.
+
+She finished her game of patience and only then examined the presents.
+They consisted of a box for cards, of splendid workmanship, a bright-
+blue Sevres tea cup with shepherdesses depicted on it and with a lid,
+and a gold snuffbox with the count's portrait on the lid which Pierre
+had had done by a miniaturist in Petersburg. The countess had long
+wished for such a box, but as she did not want to cry just then she
+glanced indifferently at the portrait and gave her attention chiefly to
+the box for cards.
+
+"Thank you, my dear, you have cheered me up," said she as she always
+did. "But best of all you have brought yourself back--for I never saw
+anything like it, you ought to give your wife a scolding! What are we to
+do with her? She is like a mad woman when you are away. Doesn't see
+anything, doesn't remember anything," she went on, repeating her usual
+phrases. "Look, Anna Timofeevna," she added to her companion, "see what
+a box for cards my son has brought us!"
+
+Belova admired the presents and was delighted with her dress material.
+
+Though Pierre, Natasha, Nicholas, Countess Mary, and Denisov had much to
+talk about that they could not discuss before the old countess--not that
+anything was hidden from her, but because she had dropped so far
+behindhand in many things that had they begun to converse in her
+presence they would have had to answer inopportune questions and to
+repeat what they had already told her many times: that so-and-so was
+dead and so-and-so was married, which she would again be unable to
+remember--yet they sat at tea round the samovar in the drawing room from
+habit, and Pierre answered the countess' questions as to whether Prince
+Vasili had aged and whether Countess Mary Alexeevna had sent greetings
+and still thought of them, and other matters that interested no one and
+to which she herself was indifferent.
+
+Conversation of this kind, interesting to no one yet unavoidable,
+continued all through teatime. All the grown-up members of the family
+were assembled near the round tea table at which Sonya presided beside
+the samovar. The children with their tutors and governesses had had tea
+and their voices were audible from the next room. At tea all sat in
+their accustomed places: Nicholas beside the stove at a small table
+where his tea was handed to him; Milka, the old gray borzoi bitch
+(daughter of the first Milka), with a quite gray face and large black
+eyes that seemed more prominent than ever, lay on the armchair beside
+him; Denisov, whose curly hair, mustache, and whiskers had turned half
+gray, sat beside countess Mary with his general's tunic unbuttoned;
+Pierre sat between his wife and the old countess. He spoke of what he
+knew might interest the old lady and that she could understand. He told
+her of external social events and of the people who had formed the
+circle of her contemporaries and had once been a real, living, and
+distinct group, but who were now for the most part scattered about the
+world and like herself were garnering the last ears of the harvests they
+had sown in earlier years. But to the old countess those contemporaries
+of hers seemed to be the only serious and real society. Natasha saw by
+Pierre's animation that his visit had been interesting and that he had
+much to tell them but dare not say it before the old countess. Denisov,
+not being a member of the family, did not understand Pierre's caution
+and being, as a malcontent, much interested in what was occurring in
+Petersburg, kept urging Pierre to tell them about what had happened in
+the Semenovsk regiment, then about Arakcheev, and then about the Bible
+Society. Once or twice Pierre was carried away and began to speak of
+these things, but Nicholas and Natasha always brought him back to the
+health of Prince Ivan and Countess Mary Alexeevna.
+
+"Well, and all this idiocy--Gossner and Tatawinova?" Denisov asked. "Is
+that weally still going on?"
+
+
+"Going on?" Pierre exclaimed. "Why more than ever! The Bible Society is
+the whole government now!"
+
+"What is that, mon cher ami?" asked the countess, who had finished her
+tea and evidently needed a pretext for being angry after her meal. "What
+are you saying about the government? I don't understand."
+
+"Well, you know, Maman," Nicholas interposed, knowing how to translate
+things into his mother's language, "Prince Alexander Golitsyn has
+founded a society and in consequence has great influence, they say."
+
+"Arakcheev and Golitsyn," incautiously remarked Pierre, "are now the
+whole government! And what a government! They see treason everywhere and
+are afraid of everything."
+
+"Well, and how is Prince Alexander to blame? He is a most estimable man.
+I used to meet him at Mary Antonovna's," said the countess in an
+offended tone; and still more offended that they all remained silent,
+she went on: "Nowadays everyone finds fault. A Gospel Society! Well, and
+what harm is there in that?" and she rose (everybody else got up too)
+and with a severe expression sailed back to her table in the sitting
+room.
+
+The melancholy silence that followed was broken by the sounds of the
+children's voices and laughter from the next room. Evidently some jolly
+excitement was going on there.
+
+"Finished, finished!" little Natasha's gleeful yell rose above them all.
+
+Pierre exchanged glances with Countess Mary and Nicholas (Natasha he
+never lost sight of) and smiled happily.
+
+"That's delightful music!" said he.
+
+"It means that Anna Makarovna has finished her stocking," said Countess
+Mary.
+
+"Oh, I'll go and see," said Pierre, jumping up. "You know," he added,
+stopping at the door, "why I'm especially fond of that music? It is
+always the first thing that tells me all is well. When I was driving
+here today, the nearer I got to the house the more anxious I grew. As I
+entered the anteroom I heard Andrusha's peals of laughter and that meant
+that all was well."
+
+"I know! I know that feeling," said Nicholas. "But I mustn't go there--
+those stockings are to be a surprise for me."
+
+Pierre went to the children, and the shouting and laughter grew still
+louder.
+
+"Come, Anna Makarovna," Pierre's voice was heard saying, "come here into
+the middle of the room and at the word of command, 'One, two,' and when
+I say 'three'... You stand here, and you in my arms--well now! One,
+two!..." said Pierre, and a silence followed: "three!" and a rapturously
+breathless cry of children's voices filled the room. "Two, two!" they
+shouted.
+
+This meant two stockings, which by a secret process known only to
+herself Anna Makarovna used to knit at the same time on the same
+needles, and which, when they were ready, she always triumphantly drew,
+one out of the other, in the children's presence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+Soon after this the children came in to say good night. They kissed
+everyone, the tutors and governesses made their bows, and they went out.
+Only young Nicholas and his tutor remained. Dessalles whispered to the
+boy to come downstairs.
+
+"No, Monsieur Dessalles, I will ask my aunt to let me stay," replied
+Nicholas Bolkonski also in a whisper.
+
+"Ma tante, please let me stay," said he, going up to his aunt.
+
+His face expressed entreaty, agitation, and ecstasy. Countess Mary
+glanced at him and turned to Pierre.
+
+"When you are here he can't tear himself away," she said.
+
+"I will bring him to you directly, Monsieur Dessalles. Good night!" said
+Pierre, giving his hand to the Swiss tutor, and he turned to young
+Nicholas with a smile. "You and I haven't seen anything of one another
+yet... How like he is growing, Mary!" he added, addressing Countess
+Mary.
+
+"Like my father?" asked the boy, flushing crimson and looking up at
+Pierre with bright, ecstatic eyes.
+
+Pierre nodded, and went on with what he had been saying when the
+children had interrupted. Countess Mary sat down doing woolwork; Natasha
+did not take her eyes off her husband. Nicholas and Denisov rose, asked
+for their pipes, smoked, went to fetch more tea from Sonya--who sat
+weary but resolute at the samovar--and questioned Pierre. The curly-
+headed, delicate boy sat with shining eyes unnoticed in a corner,
+starting every now and then and muttering something to himself, and
+evidently experiencing a new and powerful emotion as he turned his curly
+head, with his thin neck exposed by his turn-down collar, toward the
+place where Pierre sat.
+
+The conversation turned on the contemporary gossip about those in power,
+in which most people see the chief interest of home politics. Denisov,
+dissatisfied with the government on account of his own disappointments
+in the service, heard with pleasure of the things done in Petersburg
+which seemed to him stupid, and made forcible and sharp comments on what
+Pierre told them.
+
+"One used to have to be a German--now one must dance with Tatawinova and
+Madame Kwudener, and wead Ecka'tshausen and the bwethwen. Oh, they
+should let that fine fellow Bonaparte loose--he'd knock all this
+nonsense out of them! Fancy giving the command of the Semenov wegiment
+to a fellow like that Schwa'tz!" he cried.
+
+Nicholas, though free from Denisov's readiness to find fault with
+everything, also thought that discussion of the government was a very
+serious and weighty matter, and the fact that A had been appointed
+Minister of This and B Governor General of That, and that the Emperor
+had said so-and-so and this minister so-and-so, seemed to him very
+important. And so he thought it necessary to take an interest in these
+things and to question Pierre. The questions put by these two kept the
+conversation from changing its ordinary character of gossip about the
+higher government circles.
+
+But Natasha, knowing all her husband's ways and ideas, saw that he had
+long been wishing but had been unable to divert the conversation to
+another channel and express his own deeply felt idea for the sake of
+which he had gone to Petersburg to consult with his new friend Prince
+Theodore, and she helped him by asking how his affairs with Prince
+Theodore had gone.
+
+"What was it about?" asked Nicholas.
+
+"Always the same thing," said Pierre, looking round at his listeners.
+"Everybody sees that things are going so badly that they cannot be
+allowed to go on so and that it is the duty of all decent men to
+counteract it as far as they can."
+
+"What can decent men do?" Nicholas inquired, frowning slightly. "What
+can be done?"
+
+"Why, this..."
+
+"Come into my study," said Nicholas.
+
+Natasha, who had long expected to be fetched to nurse her baby, now
+heard the nurse calling her and went to the nursery. Countess Mary
+followed her. The men went into the study and little Nicholas Bolkonski
+followed them unnoticed by his uncle and sat down at the writing table
+in a shady corner by the window.
+
+"Well, what would you do?" asked Denisov.
+
+"Always some fantastic schemes," said Nicholas.
+
+"Why this," began Pierre, not sitting down but pacing the room,
+sometimes stopping short, gesticulating, and lisping: "the position in
+Petersburg is this: the Emperor does not look into anything. He has
+abandoned himself altogether to this mysticism" (Pierre could not
+tolerate mysticism in anyone now). "He seeks only for peace, and only
+these people sans foi ni loi * can give it him--people who recklessly
+hack at and strangle everything--Magnitski, Arakcheev, and tutti
+quanti.... You will agree that if you did not look after your estates
+yourself but only wanted a quiet life, the harsher your steward was the
+more readily your object might be attained," he said to Nicholas.
+
+
+* Without faith or law.
+
+"Well, what does that lead up to?" said Nicholas.
+
+"Well, everything is going to ruin! Robbery in the law courts, in the
+army nothing but flogging, drilling, and Military Settlements; the
+people are tortured, enlightenment is suppressed. All that is young and
+honest is crushed! Everyone sees that this cannot go on. Everything is
+strained to such a degree that it will certainly break," said Pierre (as
+those who examine the actions of any government have always said since
+governments began). "I told them just one thing in Petersburg."
+
+"Told whom?"
+
+"Well, you know whom," said Pierre, with a meaning glance from under his
+brows. "Prince Theodore and all those. To encourage culture and
+philanthropy is all very well of course. The aim is excellent but in the
+present circumstances something else is needed."
+
+At that moment Nicholas noticed the presence of his nephew. His face
+darkened and he went up to the boy.
+
+"Why are you here?"
+
+"Why? Let him be," said Pierre, taking Nicholas by the arm and
+continuing. "That is not enough, I told them. Something else is needed.
+When you stand expecting the overstrained string to snap at any moment,
+when everyone is expecting the inevitable catastrophe, as many as
+possible must join hands as closely as they can to withstand the general
+calamity. Everything that is young and strong is being enticed away and
+depraved. One is lured by women, another by honors, a third by ambition
+or money, and they go over to that camp. No independent men, such as you
+or I, are left. What I say is widen the scope of our society, let the
+mot d'ordre be not virtue alone but independence and action as well!"
+
+Nicholas, who had left his nephew, irritably pushed up an armchair, sat
+down in it, and listened to Pierre, coughing discontentedly and frowning
+more and more.
+
+"But action with what aim?" he cried. "And what position will you adopt
+toward the government?"
+
+"Why, the position of assistants. The society need not be secret if the
+government allows it. Not merely is it not hostile to government, but it
+is a society of true conservatives--a society of gentlemen in the full
+meaning of that word. It is only to prevent some Pugachev or other from
+killing my children and yours, and Arakcheev from sending me off to some
+Military Settlement. We join hands only for the public welfare and the
+general safety."
+
+"Yes, but it's a secret society and therefore a hostile and harmful one
+which can only cause harm."
+
+"Why? Did the Tugendbund which saved Europe" (they did not then venture
+to suggest that Russia had saved Europe) "do any harm? The Tugendbund is
+an alliance of virtue: it is love, mutual help... it is what Christ
+preached on the Cross."
+
+Natasha, who had come in during the conversation, looked joyfully at her
+husband. It was not what he was saying that pleased her--that did not
+even interest her, for it seemed to her that was all extremely simple
+and that she had known it a long time (it seemed so to her because she
+knew that it sprang from Pierre's whole soul), but it was his animated
+and enthusiastic appearance that made her glad.
+
+The boy with the thin neck stretching out from the turn-down collar--
+whom everyone had forgotten--gazed at Pierre with even greater and more
+rapturous joy. Every word of Pierre's burned into his heart, and with a
+nervous movement of his fingers he unconsciously broke the sealing wax
+and quill pens his hands came upon on his uncle's table.
+
+"It is not at all what you suppose; but that is what the German
+Tugendbund was, and what I am proposing."
+
+"No, my fwiend! The Tugendbund is all vewy well for the sausage eaters,
+but I don't understand it and can't even pwonounce it," interposed
+Denisov in a loud and resolute voice. "I agwee that evewything here is
+wotten and howwible, but the Tugendbund I don't understand. If we're not
+satisfied, let us have a bunt of our own. That's all wight. Je suis
+vot'e homme!" *
+
+
+* "I'm your man."
+
+Pierre smiled, Natasha began to laugh, but Nicholas knitted his brows
+still more and began proving to Pierre that there was no prospect of any
+great change and that all the danger he spoke of existed only in his
+imagination. Pierre maintained the contrary, and as his mental faculties
+were greater and more resourceful, Nicholas felt himself cornered. This
+made him still angrier, for he was fully convinced, not by reasoning but
+by something within him stronger than reason, of the justice of his
+opinion.
+
+"I will tell you this," he said, rising and trying with nervously
+twitching fingers to prop up his pipe in a corner, but finally
+abandoning the attempt. "I can't prove it to you. You say that
+everything here is rotten and that an overthrow is coming: I don't see
+it. But you also say that our oath of allegiance is a conditional
+matter, and to that I reply: 'You are my best friend, as you know, but
+if you formed a secret society and began working against the government-
+-be it what it may--I know it is my duty to obey the government. And if
+Arakcheev ordered me to lead a squadron against you and cut you down, I
+should not hesitate an instant, but should do it.' And you may argue
+about that as you like!"
+
+An awkward silence followed these words. Natasha was the first to speak,
+defending her husband and attacking her brother. Her defense was weak
+and inapt but she attained her object. The conversation was resumed, and
+no longer in the unpleasantly hostile tone of Nicholas' last remark.
+
+When they all got up to go in to supper, little Nicholas Bolkonski went
+up to Pierre, pale and with shining, radiant eyes.
+
+"Uncle Pierre, you... no... If Papa were alive... would he agree with
+you?" he asked.
+
+And Pierre suddenly realized what a special, independent, complex, and
+powerful process of thought and feeling must have been going on in this
+boy during that conversation, and remembering all he had said he
+regretted that the lad should have heard him. He had, however, to give
+him an answer.
+
+"Yes, I think so," he said reluctantly, and left the study.
+
+The lad looked down and seemed now for the first time to notice what he
+had done to the things on the table. He flushed and went up to Nicholas.
+
+"Uncle, forgive me, I did that... unintentionally," he said, pointing to
+the broken sealing wax and pens.
+
+Nicholas started angrily.
+
+"All right, all right," he said, throwing the bits under the table.
+
+And evidently suppressing his vexation with difficulty, he turned away
+from the boy.
+
+"You ought not to have been here at all," he said.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+The conversation at supper was not about politics or societies, but
+turned on the subject Nicholas liked best--recollections of 1812.
+Denisov started these and Pierre was particularly agreeable and amusing
+about them. The family separated on the most friendly terms.
+
+After supper Nicholas, having undressed in his study and given
+instructions to the steward who had been waiting for him, went to the
+bedroom in his dressing gown, where he found his wife still at her
+table, writing.
+
+"What are you writing, Mary?" Nicholas asked.
+
+Countess Mary blushed. She was afraid that what she was writing would
+not be understood or approved by her husband.
+
+She had wanted to conceal what she was writing from him, but at the same
+time was glad he had surprised her at it and that she would now have to
+tell him.
+
+"A diary, Nicholas," she replied, handing him a blue exercise book
+filled with her firm, bold writing.
+
+"A diary?" Nicholas repeated with a shade of irony, and he took up the
+book.
+
+It was in French.
+
+December 4. Today when Andrusha (her eldest boy) woke up he did not wish
+to dress and Mademoiselle Louise sent for me. He was naughty and
+obstinate. I tried threats, but he only grew angrier. Then I took the
+matter in hand: I left him alone and began with nurse's help to get the
+other children up, telling him that I did not love him. For a long time
+he was silent, as if astonished, then he jumped out of bed, ran to me in
+his shirt, and sobbed so that I could not calm him for a long time. It
+was plain that what troubled him most was that he had grieved me.
+Afterwards in the evening when I gave him his ticket, he again began
+crying piteously and kissing me. One can do anything with him by
+tenderness.
+
+"What is a 'ticket'?" Nicholas inquired.
+
+"I have begun giving the elder ones marks every evening, showing how
+they have behaved."
+
+Nicholas looked into the radiant eyes that were gazing at him, and
+continued to turn over the pages and read. In the diary was set down
+everything in the children's lives that seemed noteworthy to their
+mother as showing their characters or suggesting general reflections on
+educational methods. They were for the most part quite insignificant
+trifles, but did not seem so to the mother or to the father either, now
+that he read this diary about his children for the first time.
+
+Under the date "5" was entered:
+
+Mitya was naughty at table. Papa said he was to have no pudding. He had
+none, but looked so unhappily and greedily at the others while they were
+eating! I think that punishment by depriving children of sweets only
+develops their greediness. Must tell Nicholas this.
+
+Nicholas put down the book and looked at his wife. The radiant eyes
+gazed at him questioningly: would he approve or disapprove of her diary?
+There could be no doubt not only of his approval but also of his
+admiration for his wife.
+
+Perhaps it need not be done so pedantically, thought Nicholas, or even
+done at all, but this untiring, continual spiritual effort of which the
+sole aim was the children's moral welfare delighted him. Had Nicholas
+been able to analyze his feelings he would have found that his steady,
+tender, and proud love of his wife rested on his feeling of wonder at
+her spirituality and at the lofty moral world, almost beyond his reach,
+in which she had her being.
+
+He was proud of her intelligence and goodness, recognized his own
+insignificance beside her in the spiritual world, and rejoiced all the
+more that she with such a soul not only belonged to him but was part of
+himself.
+
+"I quite, quite approve, my dearest!" said he with a significant look,
+and after a short pause he added: "And I behaved badly today. You
+weren't in the study. We began disputing--Pierre and I--and I lost my
+temper. But he is impossible: such a child! I don't know what would
+become of him if Natasha didn't keep him in hand.... Have you any idea
+why he went to Petersburg? They have formed..."
+
+"Yes, I know," said Countess Mary. "Natasha told me."
+
+"Well, then, you know," Nicholas went on, growing hot at the mere
+recollection of their discussion, "he wanted to convince me that it is
+every honest man's duty to go against the government, and that the oath
+of allegiance and duty... I am sorry you weren't there. They all fell on
+me--Denisov and Natasha... Natasha is absurd. How she rules over him!
+And yet there need only be a discussion and she has no words of her own
+but only repeats his sayings..." added Nicholas, yielding to that
+irresistible inclination which tempts us to judge those nearest and
+dearest to us. He forgot that what he was saying about Natasha could
+have been applied word for word to himself in relation to his wife.
+
+"Yes, I have noticed that," said Countess Mary.
+
+"When I told him that duty and the oath were above everything, he
+started proving goodness knows what! A pity you were not there--what
+would you have said?"
+
+"As I see it you were quite right, and I told Natasha so. Pierre says
+everybody is suffering, tortured, and being corrupted, and that it is
+our duty to help our neighbor. Of course he is right there," said
+Countess Mary, "but he forgets that we have other duties nearer to us,
+duties indicated to us by God Himself, and that though we might expose
+ourselves to risks we must not risk our children."
+
+"Yes, that's it! That's just what I said to him," put in Nicholas, who
+fancied he really had said it. "But they insisted on their own view:
+love of one's neighbor and Christianity--and all this in the presence of
+young Nicholas, who had gone into my study and broke all my things."
+
+"Ah, Nicholas, do you know I am often troubled about little Nicholas,"
+said Countess Mary. "He is such an exceptional boy. I am afraid I
+neglect him in favor of my own: we all have children and relations while
+he has no one. He is constantly alone with his thoughts."
+
+"Well, I don't think you need reproach yourself on his account. All that
+the fondest mother could do for her son you have done and are doing for
+him, and of course I am glad of it. He is a fine lad, a fine lad! This
+evening he listened to Pierre in a sort of trance, and fancy--as we were
+going in to supper I looked and he had broken everything on my table to
+bits, and he told me of it himself at once! I never knew him to tell an
+untruth. A fine lad, a fine lad!" repeated Nicholas, who at heart was
+not fond of Nicholas Bolkonski but was always anxious to recognize that
+he was a fine lad.
+
+"Still, I am not the same as his own mother," said Countess Mary. "I
+feel I am not the same and it troubles me. A wonderful boy, but I am
+dreadfully afraid for him. It would be good for him to have companions."
+
+"Well it won't be for long. Next summer I'll take him to Petersburg,"
+said Nicholas. "Yes, Pierre always was a dreamer and always will be," he
+continued, returning to the talk in the study which had evidently
+disturbed him. "Well, what business is it of mine what goes on there--
+whether Arakcheev is bad, and all that? What business was it of mine
+when I married and was so deep in debt that I was threatened with
+prison, and had a mother who could not see or understand it? And then
+there are you and the children and our affairs. Is it for my own
+pleasure that I am at the farm or in the office from morning to night?
+No, but I know I must work to comfort my mother, to repay you, and not
+to leave the children such beggars as I was."
+
+Countess Mary wanted to tell him that man does not live by bread alone
+and that he attached too much importance to these matters. But she knew
+she must not say this and that it would be useless to do so. She only
+took his hand and kissed it. He took this as a sign of approval and a
+confirmation of his thoughts, and after a few minutes' reflection
+continued to think aloud.
+
+"You know, Mary, today Elias Mitrofanych" (this was his overseer) "came
+back from the Tambov estate and told me they are already offering eighty
+thousand rubles for the forest."
+
+And with an eager face Nicholas began to speak of the possibility of
+repurchasing Otradnoe before long, and added: "Another ten years of life
+and I shall leave the children... in an excellent position."
+
+Countess Mary listened to her husband and understood all that he told
+her. She knew that when he thought aloud in this way he would sometimes
+ask her what he had been saying, and be vexed if he noticed that she had
+been thinking about something else. But she had to force herself to
+attend, for what he was saying did not interest her at all. She looked
+at him and did not think, but felt, about something different. She felt
+a submissive tender love for this man who would never understand all
+that she understood, and this seemed to make her love for him still
+stronger and added a touch of passionate tenderness. Besides this
+feeling which absorbed her altogether and hindered her from following
+the details of her husband's plans, thoughts that had no connection with
+what he was saying flitted through her mind. She thought of her nephew.
+Her husband's account of the boy's agitation while Pierre was speaking
+struck her forcibly, and various traits of his gentle, sensitive
+character recurred to her mind; and while thinking of her nephew she
+thought also of her own children. She did not compare them with him, but
+compared her feeling for them with her feeling for him, and felt with
+regret that there was something lacking in her feeling for young
+Nicholas.
+
+Sometimes it seemed to her that this difference arose from the
+difference in their ages, but she felt herself to blame toward him and
+promised in her heart to do better and to accomplish the impossible--in
+this life to love her husband, her children, little Nicholas, and all
+her neighbors, as Christ loved mankind. Countess Mary's soul always
+strove toward the infinite, the eternal, and the absolute, and could
+therefore never be at peace. A stern expression of the lofty, secret
+suffering of a soul burdened by the body appeared on her face. Nicholas
+gazed at her. "O God! What will become of us if she dies, as I always
+fear when her face is like that?" thought he, and placing himself before
+the icon he began to say his evening prayers.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+Natasha and Pierre, left alone, also began to talk as only a husband and
+wife can talk, that is, with extraordinary clearness and rapidity,
+understanding and expressing each other's thoughts in ways contrary to
+all rules of logic, without premises, deductions, or conclusions, and in
+a quite peculiar way. Natasha was so used to this kind of talk with her
+husband that for her it was the surest sign of something being wrong
+between them if Pierre followed a line of logical reasoning. When he
+began proving anything, or talking argumentatively and calmly and she,
+led on by his example, began to do the same, she knew that they were on
+the verge of a quarrel.
+
+From the moment they were alone and Natasha came up to him with wide-
+open happy eyes, and quickly seizing his head pressed it to her bosom,
+saying: "Now you are all mine, mine! You won't escape!"--from that
+moment this conversation began, contrary to all the laws of logic and
+contrary to them because quite different subjects were talked about at
+one and the same time. This simultaneous discussion of many topics did
+not prevent a clear understanding but on the contrary was the surest
+sign that they fully understood one another.
+
+Just as in a dream when all is uncertain, unreasoning, and
+contradictory, except the feeling that guides the dream, so in this
+intercourse contrary to all laws of reason, the words themselves were
+not consecutive and clear but only the feeling that prompted them.
+
+Natasha spoke to Pierre about her brother's life and doings, of how she
+had suffered and lacked life during his own absence, and of how she was
+fonder than ever of Mary, and how Mary was in every way better than
+herself. In saying this Natasha was sincere in acknowledging Mary's
+superiority, but at the same time by saying it she made a demand on
+Pierre that he should, all the same, prefer her to Mary and to all other
+women, and that now, especially after having seen many women in
+Petersburg, he should tell her so afresh.
+
+Pierre, answering Natasha's words, told her how intolerable it had been
+for him to meet ladies at dinners and balls in Petersburg.
+
+"I have quite lost the knack of talking to ladies," he said. "It was
+simply dull. Besides, I was very busy."
+
+Natasha looked intently at him and went on:
+
+"Mary is so splendid," she said. "How she understands children! It is as
+if she saw straight into their souls. Yesterday, for instance, Mitya was
+naughty..."
+
+"How like his father he is," Pierre interjected.
+
+Natasha knew why he mentioned Mitya's likeness to Nicholas: the
+recollection of his dispute with his brother-in-law was unpleasant and
+he wanted to know what Natasha thought of it.
+
+"Nicholas has the weakness of never agreeing with anything not generally
+accepted. But I understand that you value what opens up a fresh line,"
+said she, repeating words Pierre had once uttered.
+
+"No, the chief point is that to Nicholas ideas and discussions are an
+amusement--almost a pastime," said Pierre. "For instance, he is
+collecting a library and has made it a rule not to buy a new book till
+he has read what he had already bought--Sismondi and Rousseau and
+Montesquieu," he added with a smile. "You know how much I..." he began
+to soften down what he had said; but Natasha interrupted him to show
+that this was unnecessary.
+
+"So you say ideas are an amusement to him...."
+
+"Yes, and for me nothing else is serious. All the time in Petersburg I
+saw everyone as in a dream. When I am taken up by a thought, all else is
+mere amusement."
+
+"Ah, I'm so sorry I wasn't there when you met the children," said
+Natasha. "Which was most delighted? Lisa, I'm sure."
+
+"Yes," Pierre replied, and went on with what was in his mind. "Nicholas
+says we ought not to think. But I can't help it. Besides, when I was in
+Petersburg I felt (I can say this to you) that the whole affair would go
+to pieces without me--everyone was pulling his own way. But I succeeded
+in uniting them all; and then my idea is so clear and simple. You see, I
+don't say that we ought to oppose this and that. We may be mistaken.
+What I say is: 'Join hands, you who love the right, and let there be but
+one banner--that of active virtue.' Prince Sergey is a fine fellow and
+clever."
+
+Natasha would have had no doubt as to the greatness of Pierre's idea,
+but one thing disconcerted her. "Can a man so important and necessary to
+society be also my husband? How did this happen?" She wished to express
+this doubt to him. "Now who could decide whether he is really cleverer
+than all the others?" she asked herself, and passed in review all those
+whom Pierre most respected. Judging by what he had said there was no one
+he had respected so highly as Platon Karataev.
+
+"Do you know what I am thinking about?" she asked. "About Platon
+Karataev. Would he have approved of you now, do you think?"
+
+Pierre was not at all surprised at this question. He understood his
+wife's line of thought.
+
+"Platon Karataev?" he repeated, and pondered, evidently sincerely trying
+to imagine Karataev's opinion on the subject. "He would not have
+understood... yet perhaps he would."
+
+"I love you awfully!" Natasha suddenly said. "Awfully, awfully!"
+
+"No, he would not have approved," said Pierre, after reflection. "What
+he would have approved of is our family life. He was always so anxious
+to find seemliness, happiness, and peace in everything, and I should
+have been proud to let him see us. There now--you talk of my absence,
+but you wouldn't believe what a special feeling I have for you after a
+separation...."
+
+"Yes, I should think..." Natasha began.
+
+"No, it's not that. I never leave off loving you. And one couldn't love
+more, but this is something special.... Yes, of course-" he did not
+finish because their eyes meeting said the rest.
+
+"What nonsense it is," Natasha suddenly exclaimed, "about honeymoons,
+and that the greatest happiness is at first! On the contrary, now is the
+best of all. If only you did not go away! Do you remember how we
+quarreled? And it was always my fault. Always mine. And what we
+quarreled about--I don't even remember!"
+
+"Always about the same thing," said Pierre with a smile. "Jealo..."
+
+"Don't say it! I can't bear it!" Natasha cried, and her eyes glittered
+coldly and vindictively. "Did you see her?" she added, after a pause.
+
+"No, and if I had I shouldn't have recognized her."
+
+They were silent for a while.
+
+"Oh, do you know? While you were talking in the study I was looking at
+you," Natasha began, evidently anxious to disperse the cloud that had
+come over them. "You are as like him as two peas--like the boy." (She
+meant her little son.) "Oh, it's time to go to him.... The milk's
+come.... But I'm sorry to leave you."
+
+They were silent for a few seconds. Then suddenly turning to one another
+at the same time they both began to speak. Pierre began with self-
+satisfaction and enthusiasm, Natasha with a quiet, happy smile. Having
+interrupted one another they both stopped to let the other continue.
+
+"No. What did you say? Go on, go on."
+
+"No, you go on, I was talking nonsense," said Natasha.
+
+Pierre finished what he had begun. It was the sequel to his complacent
+reflections on his success in Petersburg. At that moment it seemed to
+him that he was chosen to give a new direction to the whole of Russian
+society and to the whole world.
+
+"I only wished to say that ideas that have great results are always
+simple ones. My whole idea is that if vicious people are united and
+constitute a power, then honest folk must do the same. Now that's simple
+enough."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And what were you going to say?"
+
+"I? Only nonsense."
+
+"But all the same?"
+
+"Oh nothing, only a trifle," said Natasha, smilingly still more
+brightly. "I only wanted to tell you about Petya: today nurse was coming
+to take him from me, and he laughed, shut his eyes, and clung to me. I'm
+sure he thought he was hiding. Awfully sweet! There, now he's crying.
+Well, good-by!" and she left the room.
+
+Meanwhile downstairs in young Nicholas Bolkonski's bedroom a little lamp
+was burning as usual. (The boy was afraid of the dark and they could not
+cure him of it.) Dessalles slept propped up on four pillows and his
+Roman nose emitted sounds of rhythmic snoring. Little Nicholas, who had
+just waked up in a cold perspiration, sat up in bed and gazed before him
+with wide-open eyes. He had awaked from a terrible dream. He had dreamed
+that he and Uncle Pierre, wearing helmets such as were depicted in his
+Plutarch, were leading a huge army. The army was made up of white
+slanting lines that filled the air like the cobwebs that float about in
+autumn and which Dessalles called les fils de la Vierge. In front was
+Glory, which was similar to those threads but rather thicker. He and
+Pierre were borne along lightly and joyously, nearer and nearer to their
+goal. Suddenly the threads that moved them began to slacken and become
+entangled and it grew difficult to move. And Uncle Nicholas stood before
+them in a stern and threatening attitude.
+
+"Have you done this?" he said, pointing to some broken sealing wax and
+pens. "I loved you, but I have orders from Arakcheev and will kill the
+first of you who moves forward." Little Nicholas turned to look at
+Pierre but Pierre was no longer there. In his place was his father--
+Prince Andrew--and his father had neither shape nor form, but he
+existed, and when little Nicholas perceived him he grew faint with love:
+he felt himself powerless, limp, and formless. His father caressed and
+pitied him. But Uncle Nicholas came nearer and nearer to them. Terror
+seized young Nicholas and he awoke.
+
+"My father!" he thought. (Though there were two good portraits of Prince
+Andrew in the house, Nicholas never imagined him in human form.) "My
+father has been with me and caressed me. He approved of me and of Uncle
+Pierre. Whatever he may tell me, I will do it. Mucius Scaevola burned
+his hand. Why should not the same sort of thing happen to me? I know
+they want me to learn. And I will learn. But someday I shall have
+finished learning, and then I will do something. I only pray God that
+something may happen to me such as happened to Plutarch's men, and I
+will act as they did. I will do better. Everyone shall know me, love me,
+and be delighted with me!" And suddenly his bosom heaved with sobs and
+he began to cry.
+
+"Are you ill?" he heard Dessalles' voice asking.
+
+"No," answered Nicholas, and lay back on his pillow.
+
+"He is good and kind and I am fond of him!" he thought of Dessalles.
+"But Uncle Pierre! Oh, what a wonderful man he is! And my father? Oh,
+Father, Father! Yes, I will do something with which even he would be
+satisfied...."
+
+SECOND EPILOGUE
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+History is the life of nations and of humanity. To seize and put into
+words, to describe directly the life of humanity or even of a single
+nation, appears impossible.
+
+The ancient historians all employed one and the same method to describe
+and seize the apparently elusive--the life of a people. They described
+the activity of individuals who ruled the people, and regarded the
+activity of those men as representing the activity of the whole nation.
+
+The question: how did individuals make nations act as they wished and by
+what was the will of these individuals themselves guided? the ancients
+met by recognizing a divinity which subjected the nations to the will of
+a chosen man, and guided the will of that chosen man so as to accomplish
+ends that were predestined.
+
+For the ancients these questions were solved by a belief in the direct
+participation of the Deity in human affairs.
+
+Modern history, in theory, rejects both these principles.
+
+It would seem that having rejected the belief of the ancients in man's
+subjection to the Deity and in a predetermined aim toward which nations
+are led, modern history should study not the manifestations of power but
+the causes that produce it. But modern history has not done this. Having
+in theory rejected the view held by the ancients, it still follows them
+in practice.
+
+Instead of men endowed with divine authority and directly guided by the
+will of God, modern history has given us either heroes endowed with
+extraordinary, superhuman capacities, or simply men of very various
+kinds, from monarchs to journalists, who lead the masses. Instead of the
+former divinely appointed aims of the Jewish, Greek, or Roman nations,
+which ancient historians regarded as representing the progress of
+humanity, modern history has postulated its own aims--the welfare of the
+French, German, or English people, or, in its highest abstraction, the
+welfare and civilization of humanity in general, by which is usually
+meant that of the peoples occupying a small northwesterly portion of a
+large continent.
+
+Modern history has rejected the beliefs of the ancients without
+replacing them by a new conception, and the logic of the situation has
+obliged the historians, after they had apparently rejected the divine
+authority of the kings and the "fate" of the ancients, to reach the same
+conclusion by another road, that is, to recognize (1) nations guided by
+individual men, and (2) the existence of a known aim to which these
+nations and humanity at large are tending.
+
+At the basis of the works of all the modern historians from Gibbon to
+Buckle, despite their seeming disagreements and the apparent novelty of
+their outlooks, lie those two old, unavoidable assumptions.
+
+In the first place the historian describes the activity of individuals
+who in his opinion have directed humanity (one historian considers only
+monarchs, generals, and ministers as being such men, while another
+includes also orators, learned men, reformers, philosophers, and poets).
+Secondly, it is assumed that the goal toward which humanity is being led
+is known to the historians: to one of them this goal is the greatness of
+the Roman, Spanish, or French realm; to another it is liberty, equality,
+and a certain kind of civilization of a small corner of the world called
+Europe.
+
+In 1789 a ferment arises in Paris; it grows, spreads, and is expressed
+by a movement of peoples from west to east. Several times it moves
+eastward and collides with a countermovement from the east westward. In
+1812 it reaches its extreme limit, Moscow, and then, with remarkable
+symmetry, a countermovement occurs from east to west, attracting to it,
+as the first movement had done, the nations of middle Europe. The
+counter movement reaches the starting point of the first movement in the
+west--Paris--and subsides.
+
+During that twenty-year period an immense number of fields were left
+untilled, houses were burned, trade changed its direction, millions of
+men migrated, were impoverished, or were enriched, and millions of
+Christian men professing the law of love of their fellows slew one
+another.
+
+What does all this mean? Why did it happen? What made those people burn
+houses and slay their fellow men? What were the causes of these events?
+What force made men act so? These are the instinctive, plain, and most
+legitimate questions humanity asks itself when it encounters the
+monuments and tradition of that period.
+
+For a reply to these questions the common sense of mankind turns to the
+science of history, whose aim is to enable nations and humanity to know
+themselves.
+
+If history had retained the conception of the ancients it would have
+said that God, to reward or punish his people, gave Napoleon power and
+directed his will to the fulfillment of the divine ends, and that reply
+would have been clear and complete. One might believe or disbelieve in
+the divine significance of Napoleon, but for anyone believing in it
+there would have been nothing unintelligible in the history of that
+period, nor would there have been any contradictions.
+
+But modern history cannot give that reply. Science does not admit the
+conception of the ancients as to the direct participation of the Deity
+in human affairs, and therefore history ought to give other answers.
+
+Modern history replying to these questions says: you want to know what
+this movement means, what caused it, and what force produced these
+events? Then listen:
+
+"Louis XIV was a very proud and self-confident man; he had such and such
+mistresses and such and such ministers and he ruled France badly. His
+descendants were weak men and they too ruled France badly. And they had
+such and such favorites and such and such mistresses. Moreover, certain
+men wrote some books at that time. At the end of the eighteenth century
+there were a couple of dozen men in Paris who began to talk about all
+men being free and equal. This caused people all over France to begin to
+slash at and drown one another. They killed the king and many other
+people. At that time there was in France a man of genius--Napoleon. He
+conquered everybody everywhere--that is, he killed many people because
+he was a great genius. And for some reason he went to kill Africans, and
+killed them so well and was so cunning and wise that when he returned to
+France he ordered everybody to obey him, and they all obeyed him. Having
+become an Emperor he again went out to kill people in Italy, Austria,
+and Prussia. And there too he killed a great many. In Russia there was
+an Emperor, Alexander, who decided to restore order in Europe and
+therefore fought against Napoleon. In 1807 he suddenly made friends with
+him, but in 1811 they again quarreled and again began killing many
+people. Napoleon led six hundred thousand men into Russia and captured
+Moscow; then he suddenly ran away from Moscow, and the Emperor
+Alexander, helped by the advice of Stein and others, united Europe to
+arm against the disturber of its peace. All Napoleon's allies suddenly
+became his enemies and their forces advanced against the fresh forces he
+raised. The Allies defeated Napoleon, entered Paris, forced Napoleon to
+abdicate, and sent him to the island of Elba, not depriving him of the
+title of Emperor and showing him every respect, though five years before
+and one year later they all regarded him as an outlaw and a brigand.
+Then Louis XVIII, who till then had been the laughingstock both of the
+French and the Allies, began to reign. And Napoleon, shedding tears
+before his Old Guards, renounced the throne and went into exile. Then
+the skillful statesmen and diplomatists (especially Talleyrand, who
+managed to sit down in a particular chair before anyone else and thereby
+extended the frontiers of France) talked in Vienna and by these
+conversations made the nations happy or unhappy. Suddenly the
+diplomatists and monarchs nearly quarreled and were on the point of
+again ordering their armies to kill one another, but just then Napoleon
+arrived in France with a battalion, and the French, who had been hating
+him, immediately all submitted to him. But the Allied monarchs were
+angry at this and went to fight the French once more. And they defeated
+the genius Napoleon and, suddenly recognizing him as a brigand, sent him
+to the island of St. Helena. And the exile, separated from the beloved
+France so dear to his heart, died a lingering death on that rock and
+bequeathed his great deeds to posterity. But in Europe a reaction
+occurred and the sovereigns once again all began to oppress their
+subjects."
+
+It would be a mistake to think that this is ironic--a caricature of the
+historical accounts. On the contrary it is a very mild expression of the
+contradictory replies, not meeting the questions, which all the
+historians give, from the compilers of memoirs and the histories of
+separate states to the writers of general histories and the new
+histories of the culture of that period.
+
+The strangeness and absurdity of these replies arise from the fact that
+modern history, like a deaf man, answers questions no one has asked.
+
+If the purpose of history be to give a description of the movement of
+humanity and of the peoples, the first question--in the absence of a
+reply to which all the rest will be incomprehensible--is: what is the
+power that moves peoples? To this, modern history laboriously replies
+either that Napoleon was a great genius, or that Louis XIV was very
+proud, or that certain writers wrote certain books.
+
+All that may be so and mankind is ready to agree with it, but it is not
+what was asked. All that would be interesting if we recognized a divine
+power based on itself and always consistently directing its nations
+through Napoleons, Louis-es, and writers; but we do not acknowledge such
+a power, and therefore before speaking about Napoleons, Louis-es, and
+authors, we ought to be shown the connection existing between these men
+and the movement of the nations.
+
+If instead of a divine power some other force has appeared, it should be
+explained in what this new force consists, for the whole interest of
+history lies precisely in that force.
+
+History seems to assume that this force is self-evident and known to
+everyone. But in spite of every desire to regard it as known, anyone
+reading many historical works cannot help doubting whether this new
+force, so variously understood by the historians themselves, is really
+quite well known to everybody.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+What force moves the nations?
+
+Biographical historians and historians of separate nations understand
+this force as a power inherent in heroes and rulers. In their narration
+events occur solely by the will of a Napoleon, and Alexander, or in
+general of the persons they describe. The answers given by this kind of
+historian to the question of what force causes events to happen are
+satisfactory only as long as there is but one historian to each event.
+As soon as historians of different nationalities and tendencies begin to
+describe the same event, the replies they give immediately lose all
+meaning, for this force is understood by them all not only differently
+but often in quite contradictory ways. One historian says that an event
+was produced by Napoleon's power, another that it was produced by
+Alexander's, a third that it was due to the power of some other person.
+Besides this, historians of that kind contradict each other even in
+their statement as to the force on which the authority of some
+particular person was based. Thiers, a Bonapartist, says that Napoleon's
+power was based on his virtue and genius. Lanfrey, a Republican, says it
+was based on his trickery and deception of the people. So the historians
+of this class, by mutually destroying one another's positions, destroy
+the understanding of the force which produces events, and furnish no
+reply to history's essential question.
+
+Writers of universal history who deal with all the nations seem to
+recognize how erroneous is the specialist historians' view of the force
+which produces events. They do not recognize it as a power inherent in
+heroes and rulers, but as the resultant of a multiplicity of variously
+directed forces. In describing a war or the subjugation of a people, a
+general historian looks for the cause of the event not in the power of
+one man, but in the interaction of many persons connected with the
+event.
+
+According to this view the power of historical personages, represented
+as the product of many forces, can no longer, it would seem, be regarded
+as a force that itself produces events. Yet in most cases universal
+historians still employ the conception of power as a force that itself
+produces events, and treat it as their cause. In their exposition, an
+historic character is first the product of his time, and his power only
+the resultant of various forces, and then his power is itself a force
+producing events. Gervinus, Schlosser, and others, for instance, at one
+time prove Napoleon to be a product of the Revolution, of the ideas of
+1789 and so forth, and at another plainly say that the campaign of 1812
+and other things they do not like were simply the product of Napoleon's
+misdirected will, and that the very ideas of 1789 were arrested in their
+development by Napoleon's caprice. The ideas of the Revolution and the
+general temper of the age produced Napoleon's power. But Napoleon's
+power suppressed the ideas of the Revolution and the general temper of
+the age.
+
+This curious contradiction is not accidental. Not only does it occur at
+every step, but the universal historians' accounts are all made up of a
+chain of such contradictions. This contradiction occurs because after
+entering the field of analysis the universal historians stop halfway.
+
+To find component forces equal to the composite or resultant force, the
+sum of the components must equal the resultant. This condition is never
+observed by the universal historians, and so to explain the resultant
+forces they are obliged to admit, in addition to the insufficient
+components, another unexplained force affecting the resultant action.
+
+Specialist historians describing the campaign of 1813 or the restoration
+of the Bourbons plainly assert that these events were produced by the
+will of Alexander. But the universal historian Gervinus, refuting this
+opinion of the specialist historian, tries to prove that the campaign of
+1813 and the restoration of the Bourbons were due to other things beside
+Alexander's will--such as the activity of Stein, Metternich, Madame de
+Stael, Talleyrand, Fichte, Chateaubriand, and others. The historian
+evidently decomposes Alexander's power into the components: Talleyrand,
+Chateaubriand, and the rest--but the sum of the components, that is, the
+interactions of Chateaubriand, Talleyrand, Madame de Stael, and the
+others, evidently does not equal the resultant, namely the phenomenon of
+millions of Frenchmen submitting to the Bourbons. That Chateaubriand,
+Madame de Stael, and others spoke certain words to one another only
+affected their mutual relations but does not account for the submission
+of millions. And therefore to explain how from these relations of theirs
+the submission of millions of people resulted--that is, how component
+forces equal to one A gave a resultant equal to a thousand times A--the
+historian is again obliged to fall back on power--the force he had
+denied--and to recognize it as the resultant of the forces, that is, he
+has to admit an unexplained force acting on the resultant. And that is
+just what the universal historians do, and consequently they not only
+contradict the specialist historians but contradict themselves.
+
+Peasants having no clear idea of the cause of rain, say, according to
+whether they want rain or fine weather: "The wind has blown the clouds
+away," or, "The wind has brought up the clouds." And in the same way the
+universal historians sometimes, when it pleases them and fits in with
+their theory, say that power is the result of events, and sometimes,
+when they want to prove something else, say that power produces events.
+
+A third class of historians--the so-called historians of culture--
+following the path laid down by the universal historians who sometimes
+accept writers and ladies as forces producing events--again take that
+force to be something quite different. They see it in what is called
+culture--in mental activity.
+
+The historians of culture are quite consistent in regard to their
+progenitors, the writers of universal histories, for if historical
+events may be explained by the fact that certain persons treated one
+another in such and such ways, why not explain them by the fact that
+such and such people wrote such and such books? Of the immense number of
+indications accompanying every vital phenomenon, these historians select
+the indication of intellectual activity and say that this indication is
+the cause. But despite their endeavors to prove that the cause of events
+lies in intellectual activity, only by a great stretch can one admit
+that there is any connection between intellectual activity and the
+movement of peoples, and in no case can one admit that intellectual
+activity controls people's actions, for that view is not confirmed by
+such facts as the very cruel murders of the French Revolution resulting
+from the doctrine of the equality of man, or the very cruel wars and
+executions resulting from the preaching of love.
+
+But even admitting as correct all the cunningly devised arguments with
+which these histories are filled--admitting that nations are governed by
+some undefined force called an idea--history's essential question still
+remains unanswered, and to the former power of monarchs and to the
+influence of advisers and other people introduced by the universal
+historians, another, newer force--the idea--is added, the connection of
+which with the masses needs explanation. It is possible to understand
+that Napoleon had power and so events occurred; with some effort one may
+even conceive that Napoleon together with other influences was the cause
+of an event; but how a book, Le Contrat Social, had the effect of making
+Frenchmen begin to drown one another cannot be understood without an
+explanation of the causal nexus of this new force with the event.
+
+Undoubtedly some relation exists between all who live contemporaneously,
+and so it is possible to find some connection between the intellectual
+activity of men and their historical movements, just as such a
+connection may be found between the movements of humanity and commerce,
+handicraft, gardening, or anything else you please. But why intellectual
+activity is considered by the historians of culture to be the cause or
+expression of the whole historical movement is hard to understand. Only
+the following considerations can have led the historians to such a
+conclusion: (1) that history is written by learned men, and so it is
+natural and agreeable for them to think that the activity of their class
+supplies the basis of the movement of all humanity, just as a similar
+belief is natural and agreeable to traders, agriculturists, and soldiers
+(if they do not express it, that is merely because traders and soldiers
+do not write history), and (2) that spiritual activity, enlightenment,
+civilization, culture, ideas, are all indistinct, indefinite conceptions
+under whose banner it is very easy to use words having a still less
+definite meaning, and which can therefore be readily introduced into any
+theory.
+
+But not to speak of the intrinsic quality of histories of this kind
+(which may possibly even be of use to someone for something) the
+histories of culture, to which all general histories tend more and more
+to approximate, are significant from the fact that after seriously and
+minutely examining various religious, philosophic, and political
+doctrines as causes of events, as soon as they have to describe an
+actual historic event such as the campaign of 1812 for instance, they
+involuntarily describe it as resulting from an exercise of power--and
+say plainly that that was the result of Napoleon's will. Speaking so,
+the historians of culture involuntarily contradict themselves, and show
+that the new force they have devised does not account for what happens
+in history, and that history can only be explained by introducing a
+power which they apparently do not recognize.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+A locomotive is moving. Someone asks: "What moves it?" A peasant says
+the devil moves it. Another man says the locomotive moves because its
+wheels go round. A third asserts that the cause of its movement lies in
+the smoke which the wind carries away.
+
+The peasant is irrefutable. He has devised a complete explanation. To
+refute him someone would have to prove to him that there is no devil, or
+another peasant would have to explain to him that it is not the devil
+but a German, who moves the locomotive. Only then, as a result of the
+contradiction, will they see that they are both wrong. But the man who
+says that the movement of the wheels is the cause refutes himself, for
+having once begun to analyze he ought to go on and explain further why
+the wheels go round; and till he has reached the ultimate cause of the
+movement of the locomotive in the pressure of steam in the boiler, he
+has no right to stop in his search for the cause. The man who explains
+the movement of the locomotive by the smoke that is carried back has
+noticed that the wheels do not supply an explanation and has taken the
+first sign that occurs to him and in his turn has offered that as an
+explanation.
+
+The only conception that can explain the movement of the locomotive is
+that of a force commensurate with the movement observed.
+
+The only conception that can explain the movement of the peoples is that
+of some force commensurate with the whole movement of the peoples.
+
+Yet to supply this conception various historians take forces of
+different kinds, all of which are incommensurate with the movement
+observed. Some see it as a force directly inherent in heroes, as the
+peasant sees the devil in the locomotive; others as a force resulting
+from several other forces, like the movement of the wheels; others again
+as an intellectual influence, like the smoke that is blown away.
+
+So long as histories are written of separate individuals, whether
+Caesars, Alexanders, Luthers, or Voltaires, and not the histories of
+all, absolutely all those who take part in an event, it is quite
+impossible to describe the movement of humanity without the conception
+of a force compelling men to direct their activity toward a certain end.
+And the only such conception known to historians is that of power.
+
+This conception is the one handle by means of which the material of
+history, as at present expounded, can be dealt with, and anyone who
+breaks that handle off, as Buckle did, without finding some other method
+of treating historical material, merely deprives himself of the one
+possible way of dealing with it. The necessity of the conception of
+power as an explanation of historical events is best demonstrated by the
+universal historians and historians of culture themselves, for they
+professedly reject that conception but inevitably have recourse to it at
+every step.
+
+In dealing with humanity's inquiry, the science of history up to now is
+like money in circulation--paper money and coin. The biographies and
+special national histories are like paper money. They can be used and
+can circulate and fulfill their purpose without harm to anyone and even
+advantageously, as long as no one asks what is the security behind them.
+You need only forget to ask how the will of heroes produces events, and
+such histories as Thiers' will be interesting and instructive and may
+perhaps even possess a tinge of poetry. But just as doubts of the real
+value of paper money arise either because, being easy to make, too much
+of it gets made or because people try to exchange it for gold, so also
+doubts concerning the real value of such histories arise either because
+too many of them are written or because in his simplicity of heart
+someone inquires: by what force did Napoleon do this?--that is, wants to
+exchange the current paper money for the real gold of actual
+comprehension.
+
+The writers of universal histories and of the history of culture are
+like people who, recognizing the defects of paper money, decide to
+substitute for it money made of metal that has not the specific gravity
+of gold. It may indeed make jingling coin, but will do no more than
+that. Paper money may deceive the ignorant, but nobody is deceived by
+tokens of base metal that have no value but merely jingle. As gold is
+gold only if it is serviceable not merely for exchange but also for use,
+so universal historians will be valuable only when they can reply to
+history's essential question: what is power? The universal historians
+give contradictory replies to that question, while the historians of
+culture evade it and answer something quite different. And as counters
+of imitation gold can be used only among a group of people who agree to
+accept them as gold, or among those who do not know the nature of gold,
+so universal historians and historians of culture, not answering
+humanity's essential question, serve as currency for some purposes of
+their own, only in universities and among the mass of readers who have a
+taste for what they call "serious reading."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+Having abandoned the conception of the ancients as to the divine
+subjection of the will of a nation to some chosen man and the subjection
+of that man's will to the Deity, history cannot without contradictions
+take a single step till it has chosen one of two things: either a return
+to the former belief in the direct intervention of the Deity in human
+affairs or a definite explanation of the meaning of the force producing
+historical events and termed "power."
+
+A return to the first is impossible, the belief has been destroyed; and
+so it is essential to explain what is meant by power.
+
+Napoleon ordered an army to be raised and go to war. We are so
+accustomed to that idea and have become so used to it that the question:
+why did six hundred thousand men go to fight when Napoleon uttered
+certain words, seems to us senseless. He had the power and so what he
+ordered was done.
+
+This reply is quite satisfactory if we believe that the power was given
+him by God. But as soon as we do not admit that, it becomes essential to
+determine what is this power of one man over others.
+
+It cannot be the direct physical power of a strong man over a weak one--
+a domination based on the application or threat of physical force, like
+the power of Hercules; nor can it be based on the effect of moral force,
+as in their simplicity some historians think who say that the leading
+figures in history are heroes, that is, men gifted with a special
+strength of soul and mind called genius. This power cannot be based on
+the predominance of moral strength, for, not to mention heroes such as
+Napoleon about whose moral qualities opinions differ widely, history
+shows us that neither a Louis XI nor a Metternich, who ruled over
+millions of people, had any particular moral qualities, but on the
+contrary were generally morally weaker than any of the millions they
+ruled over.
+
+If the source of power lies neither in the physical nor in the moral
+qualities of him who possesses it, it must evidently be looked for
+elsewhere--in the relation to the people of the man who wields the
+power.
+
+And that is how power is understood by the science of jurisprudence,
+that exchange bank of history which offers to exchange history's
+understanding of power for true gold.
+
+Power is the collective will of the people transferred, by expressed or
+tacit consent, to their chosen rulers.
+
+In the domain of jurisprudence, which consists of discussions of how a
+state and power might be arranged were it possible for all that to be
+arranged, it is all very clear; but when applied to history that
+definition of power needs explanation.
+
+The science of jurisprudence regards the state and power as the ancients
+regarded fire--namely, as something existing absolutely. But for
+history, the state and power are merely phenomena, just as for modern
+physics fire is not an element but a phenomenon.
+
+From this fundamental difference between the view held by history and
+that held by jurisprudence, it follows that jurisprudence can tell
+minutely how in its opinion power should be constituted and what power--
+existing immutably outside time--is, but to history's questions about
+the meaning of the mutations of power in time it can answer nothing.
+
+If power be the collective will of the people transferred to their
+ruler, was Pugachev a representative of the will of the people? If not,
+then why was Napoleon I? Why was Napoleon III a criminal when he was
+taken prisoner at Boulogne, and why, later on, were those criminals whom
+he arrested?
+
+Do palace revolutions--in which sometimes only two or three people take
+part--transfer the will of the people to a new ruler? In international
+relations, is the will of the people also transferred to their
+conqueror? Was the will of the Confederation of the Rhine transferred to
+Napoleon in 1806? Was the will of the Russian people transferred to
+Napoleon in 1809, when our army in alliance with the French went to
+fight the Austrians?
+
+To these questions three answers are possible:
+
+Either to assume (1) that the will of the people is always
+unconditionally transferred to the ruler or rulers they have chosen, and
+that therefore every emergence of a new power, every struggle against
+the power once appointed, should be absolutely regarded as an
+infringement of the real power; or (2) that the will of the people is
+transferred to the rulers conditionally, under definite and known
+conditions, and to show that all limitations, conflicts, and even
+destructions of power result from a nonobservance by the rulers of the
+conditions under which their power was entrusted to them; or (3) that
+the will of the people is delegated to the rulers conditionally, but
+that the conditions are unknown and indefinite, and that the appearance
+of several authorities, their struggles and their falls, result solely
+from the greater or lesser fulfillment by the rulers of these unknown
+conditions on which the will of the people is transferred from some
+people to others.
+
+And these are the three ways in which the historians do explain the
+relation of the people to their rulers.
+
+Some historians--those biographical and specialist historians already
+referred to--in their simplicity failing to understand the question of
+the meaning of power, seem to consider that the collective will of the
+people is unconditionally transferred to historical persons, and
+therefore when describing some single state they assume that particular
+power to be the one absolute and real power, and that any other force
+opposing this is not a power but a violation of power--mere violence.
+
+Their theory, suitable for primitive and peaceful periods of history,
+has the inconvenience--in application to complex and stormy periods in
+the life of nations during which various powers arise simultaneously and
+struggle with one another--that a Legitimist historian will prove that
+the National Convention, the Directory, and Bonaparte were mere
+infringers of the true power, while a Republican and a Bonapartist will
+prove: the one that the Convention and the other that the Empire was the
+real power, and that all the others were violations of power. Evidently
+the explanations furnished by these historians being mutually
+contradictory can only satisfy young children.
+
+Recognizing the falsity of this view of history, another set of
+historians say that power rests on a conditional delegation of the will
+of the people to their rulers, and that historical leaders have power
+only conditionally on carrying out the program that the will of the
+people has by tacit agreement prescribed to them. But what this program
+consists in these historians do not say, or if they do they continually
+contradict one another.
+
+Each historian, according to his view of what constitutes a nation's
+progress, looks for these conditions in the greatness, wealth, freedom,
+or enlightenment of citizens of France or some other country. But not to
+mention the historians' contradictions as to the nature of this program-
+-or even admitting that some one general program of these conditions
+exists--the facts of history almost always contradict that theory. If
+the conditions under which power is entrusted consist in the wealth,
+freedom, and enlightenment of the people, how is it that Louis XIV and
+Ivan the Terrible end their reigns tranquilly, while Louis XVI and
+Charles I are executed by their people? To this question historians
+reply that Louis XIV's activity, contrary to the program, reacted on
+Louis XVI. But why did it not react on Louis XIV or on Louis XV--why
+should it react just on Louis XVI? And what is the time limit for such
+reactions? To these questions there are and can be no answers. Equally
+little does this view explain why for several centuries the collective
+will is not withdrawn from certain rulers and their heirs, and then
+suddenly during a period of fifty years is transferred to the
+Convention, to the Directory, to Napoleon, to Alexander, to Louis XVIII,
+to Napoleon again, to Charles X, to Louis Philippe, to a Republican
+government, and to Napoleon III. When explaining these rapid transfers
+of the people's will from one individual to another, especially in view
+of international relations, conquests, and alliances, the historians are
+obliged to admit that some of these transfers are not normal delegations
+of the people's will but are accidents dependent on cunning, on
+mistakes, on craft, or on the weakness of a diplomatist, a ruler, or a
+party leader. So that the greater part of the events of history--civil
+wars, revolutions, and conquests--are presented by these historians not
+as the results of free transferences of the people's will, but as
+results of the ill-directed will of one or more individuals, that is,
+once again, as usurpations of power. And so these historians also see
+and admit historical events which are exceptions to the theory.
+
+These historians resemble a botanist who, having noticed that some
+plants grow from seeds producing two cotyledons, should insist that all
+that grows does so by sprouting into two leaves, and that the palm, the
+mushroom, and even the oak, which blossom into full growth and no longer
+resemble two leaves, are deviations from the theory.
+
+Historians of the third class assume that the will of the people is
+transferred to historic personages conditionally, but that the
+conditions are unknown to us. They say that historical personages have
+power only because they fulfill the will of the people which has been
+delegated to them.
+
+But in that case, if the force that moves nations lies not in the
+historic leaders but in the nations themselves, what significance have
+those leaders?
+
+The leaders, these historians tell us, express the will of the people:
+the activity of the leaders represents the activity of the people.
+
+But in that case the question arises whether all the activity of the
+leaders serves as an expression of the people's will or only some part
+of it. If the whole activity of the leaders serves as the expression of
+the people's will, as some historians suppose, then all the details of
+the court scandals contained in the biographies of a Napoleon or a
+Catherine serve to express the life of the nation, which is evident
+nonsense; but if it is only some particular side of the activity of an
+historical leader which serves to express the people's life, as other
+so-called "philosophical" historians believe, then to determine which
+side of the activity of a leader expresses the nation's life, we have
+first of all to know in what the nation's life consists.
+
+Met by this difficulty historians of that class devise some most
+obscure, impalpable, and general abstraction which can cover all
+conceivable occurrences, and declare this abstraction to be the aim of
+humanity's movement. The most usual generalizations adopted by almost
+all the historians are: freedom, equality, enlightenment, progress,
+civilization, and culture. Postulating some generalization as the goal
+of the movement of humanity, the historians study the men of whom the
+greatest number of monuments have remained: kings, ministers, generals,
+authors, reformers, popes, and journalists, to the extent to which in
+their opinion these persons have promoted or hindered that abstraction.
+But as it is in no way proved that the aim of humanity does consist in
+freedom, equality, enlightenment, or civilization, and as the connection
+of the people with the rulers and enlighteners of humanity is only based
+on the arbitrary assumption that the collective will of the people is
+always transferred to the men whom we have noticed, it happens that the
+activity of the millions who migrate, burn houses, abandon agriculture,
+and destroy one another never is expressed in the account of the
+activity of some dozen people who did not burn houses, practice
+agriculture, or slay their fellow creatures.
+
+History proves this at every turn. Is the ferment of the peoples of the
+west at the end of the eighteenth century and their drive eastward
+explained by the activity of Louis XIV, XV, and XVI, their mistresses
+and ministers, and by the lives of Napoleon, Rousseau, Diderot,
+Beaumarchais, and others?
+
+Is the movement of the Russian people eastward to Kazan and Siberia
+expressed by details of the morbid character of Ivan the Terrible and by
+his correspondence with Kurbski?
+
+Is the movement of the peoples at the time of the Crusades explained by
+the life and activity of the Godfreys and the Louis-es and their ladies?
+For us that movement of the peoples from west to east, without leaders,
+with a crowd of vagrants, and with Peter the Hermit, remains
+incomprehensible. And yet more incomprehensible is the cessation of that
+movement when a rational and sacred aim for the Crusade--the deliverance
+of Jerusalem--had been clearly defined by historic leaders. Popes,
+kings, and knights incited the peoples to free the Holy Land; but the
+people did not go, for the unknown cause which had previously impelled
+them to go no longer existed. The history of the Godfreys and the
+Minnesingers can evidently not cover the life of the peoples. And the
+history of the Godfreys and the Minnesingers has remained the history of
+Godfreys and Minnesingers, but the history of the life of the peoples
+and their impulses has remained unknown.
+
+Still less does the history of authors and reformers explain to us the
+life of the peoples.
+
+The history of culture explains to us the impulses and conditions of
+life and thought of a writer or a reformer. We learn that Luther had a
+hot temper and said such and such things; we learn that Rousseau was
+suspicious and wrote such and such books; but we do not learn why after
+the Reformation the peoples massacred one another, nor why during the
+French Revolution they guillotined one another.
+
+If we unite both these kinds of history, as is done by the newest
+historians, we shall have the history of monarchs and writers, but not
+the history of the life of the peoples.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+The life of the nations is not contained in the lives of a few men, for
+the connection between those men and the nations has not been found. The
+theory that this connection is based on the transference of the
+collective will of a people to certain historical personages is an
+hypothesis unconfirmed by the experience of history.
+
+The theory of the transference of the collective will of the people to
+historic persons may perhaps explain much in the domain of jurisprudence
+and be essential for its purposes, but in its application to history, as
+soon as revolutions, conquests, or civil wars occur--that is, as soon as
+history begins--that theory explains nothing.
+
+The theory seems irrefutable just because the act of transference of the
+people's will cannot be verified, for it never occurred.
+
+Whatever happens and whoever may stand at the head of affairs, the
+theory can always say that such and such a person took the lead because
+the collective will was transferred to him.
+
+The replies this theory gives to historical questions are like the
+replies of a man who, watching the movements of a herd of cattle and
+paying no attention to the varying quality of the pasturage in different
+parts of the field, or to the driving of the herdsman, should attribute
+the direction the herd takes to what animal happens to be at its head.
+
+"The herd goes in that direction because the animal in front leads it
+and the collective will of all the other animals is vested in that
+leader." This is what historians of the first class say--those who
+assume the unconditional transference of the people's will.
+
+"If the animals leading the herd change, this happens because the
+collective will of all the animals is transferred from one leader to
+another, according to whether the animal is or is not leading them in
+the direction selected by the whole herd." Such is the reply historians
+who assume that the collective will of the people is delegated to rulers
+under conditions which they regard as known. (With this method of
+observation it often happens that the observer, influenced by the
+direction he himself prefers, regards those as leaders who, owing to the
+people's change of direction, are no longer in front, but on one side,
+or even in the rear.)
+
+"If the animals in front are continually changing and the direction of
+the whole herd is constantly altered, this is because in order to follow
+a given direction the animals transfer their will to the animals that
+have attracted our attention, and to study the movements of the herd we
+must watch the movements of all the prominent animals moving on all
+sides of the herd." So say the third class of historians who regard all
+historical persons, from monarchs to journalists, as the expression of
+their age.
+
+The theory of the transference of the will of the people to historic
+persons is merely a paraphrase--a restatement of the question in other
+words.
+
+What causes historical events? Power. What is power? Power is the
+collective will of the people transferred to one person. Under what
+condition is the will of the people delegated to one person? On
+condition that that person expresses the will of the whole people. That
+is, power is power: in other words, power is a word the meaning of which
+we do not understand.
+
+If the realm of human knowledge were confined to abstract reasoning,
+then having subjected to criticism the explanation of "power" that
+juridical science gives us, humanity would conclude that power is merely
+a word and has no real existence. But to understand phenomena man has,
+besides abstract reasoning, experience by which he verifies his
+reflections. And experience tells us that power is not merely a word but
+an actually existing phenomenon.
+
+Not to speak of the fact that no description of the collective activity
+of men can do without the conception of power, the existence of power is
+proved both by history and by observing contemporary events.
+
+Whenever an event occurs a man appears or men appear, by whose will the
+event seems to have taken place. Napoleon III issues a decree and the
+French go to Mexico. The King of Prussia and Bismarck issue decrees and
+an army enters Bohemia. Napoleon I issues a decree and an army enters
+Russia. Alexander I gives a command and the French submit to the
+Bourbons. Experience shows us that whatever event occurs it is always
+related to the will of one or of several men who have decreed it.
+
+The historians, in accord with the old habit of acknowledging divine
+intervention in human affairs, want to see the cause of events in the
+expression of the will of someone endowed with power, but that
+supposition is not confirmed either by reason or by experience.
+
+On the one side reflection shows that the expression of a man's will--
+his words--are only part of the general activity expressed in an event,
+as for instance in a war or a revolution, and so without assuming an
+incomprehensible, supernatural force--a miracle--one cannot admit that
+words can be the immediate cause of the movements of millions of men. On
+the other hand, even if we admitted that words could be the cause of
+events, history shows that the expression of the will of historical
+personages does not in most cases produce any effect, that is to say,
+their commands are often not executed, and sometimes the very opposite
+of what they order occurs.
+
+Without admitting divine intervention in the affairs of humanity we
+cannot regard "power" as the cause of events.
+
+Power, from the standpoint of experience, is merely the relation that
+exists between the expression of someone's will and the execution of
+that will by others.
+
+To explain the conditions of that relationship we must first establish a
+conception of the expression of will, referring it to man and not to the
+Deity.
+
+If the Deity issues a command, expresses His will, as ancient history
+tells us, the expression of that will is independent of time and is not
+caused by anything, for the Divinity is not controlled by an event. But
+speaking of commands that are the expression of the will of men acting
+in time and in relation to one another, to explain the connection of
+commands with events we must restore: (1) the condition of all that
+takes place: the continuity of movement in time both of the events and
+of the person who commands, and (2) the inevitability of the connection
+between the person commanding and those who execute his command.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+Only the expression of the will of the Deity, not dependent on time, can
+relate to a whole series of events occurring over a period of years or
+centuries, and only the Deity, independent of everything, can by His
+sole will determine the direction of humanity's movement; but man acts
+in time and himself takes part in what occurs.
+
+Reinstating the first condition omitted, that of time, we see that no
+command can be executed without some preceding order having been given
+rendering the execution of the last command possible.
+
+No command ever appears spontaneously, or itself covers a whole series
+of occurrences; but each command follows from another, and never refers
+to a whole series of events but always to one moment only of an event.
+
+When, for instance, we say that Napoleon ordered armies to go to war, we
+combine in one simultaneous expression a whole series of consecutive
+commands dependent one on another. Napoleon could not have commanded an
+invasion of Russia and never did so. Today he ordered such and such
+papers to be written to Vienna, to Berlin, and to Petersburg; tomorrow
+such and such decrees and orders to the army, the fleet, the
+commissariat, and so on and so on--millions of commands, which formed a
+whole series corresponding to a series of events which brought the
+French armies into Russia.
+
+If throughout his reign Napoleon gave commands concerning an invasion of
+England and expended on no other undertaking so much time and effort,
+and yet during his whole reign never once attempted to execute that
+design but undertook an expedition into Russia, with which country he
+considered it desirable to be in alliance (a conviction he repeatedly
+expressed)--this came about because his commands did not correspond to
+the course of events in the first case, but did so correspond in the
+latter.
+
+For an order to be certainly executed, it is necessary that a man should
+order what can be executed. But to know what can and what cannot be
+executed is impossible, not only in the case of Napoleon's invasion of
+Russia in which millions participated, but even in the simplest event,
+for in either case millions of obstacles may arise to prevent its
+execution. Every order executed is always one of an immense number
+unexecuted. All the impossible orders inconsistent with the course of
+events remain unexecuted. Only the possible ones get linked up with a
+consecutive series of commands corresponding to a series of events, and
+are executed.
+
+Our false conception that an event is caused by a command which precedes
+it is due to the fact that when the event has taken place and out of
+thousands of others those few commands which were consistent with that
+event have been executed, we forget about the others that were not
+executed because they could not be. Apart from that, the chief source of
+our error in this matter is due to the fact that in the historical
+accounts a whole series of innumerable, diverse, and petty events, such
+for instance as all those which led the French armies to Russia, is
+generalized into one event in accord with the result produced by that
+series of events, and corresponding with this generalization the whole
+series of commands is also generalized into a single expression of will.
+
+We say that Napoleon wished to invade Russia and invaded it. In reality
+in all Napoleon's activity we never find anything resembling an
+expression of that wish, but find a series of orders, or expressions of
+his will, very variously and indefinitely directed. Amid a long series
+of unexecuted orders of Napoleon's one series, for the campaign of 1812,
+was carried out--not because those orders differed in any way from the
+other, unexecuted orders but because they coincided with the course of
+events that led the French army into Russia; just as in stencil work
+this or that figure comes out not because the color was laid on from
+this side or in that way, but because it was laid on from all sides over
+the figure cut in the stencil.
+
+So that examining the relation in time of the commands to the events, we
+find that a command can never be the cause of the event, but that a
+certain definite dependence exists between the two.
+
+To understand in what this dependence consists it is necessary to
+reinstate another omitted condition of every command proceeding not from
+the Deity but from a man, which is, that the man who gives the command
+himself takes part in the event.
+
+This relation of the commander to those he commands is just what is
+called power. This relation consists in the following:
+
+For common action people always unite in certain combinations, in which
+regardless of the difference of the aims set for the common action, the
+relation between those taking part in it is always the same.
+
+Men uniting in these combinations always assume such relations toward
+one another that the larger number take a more direct share, and the
+smaller number a less direct share, in the collective action for which
+they have combined.
+
+Of all the combinations in which men unite for collective action one of
+the most striking and definite examples is an army.
+
+Every army is composed of lower grades of the service--the rank and
+file--of whom there are always the greatest number; of the next higher
+military rank--corporals and noncommissioned officers of whom there are
+fewer, and of still-higher officers of whom there are still fewer, and
+so on to the highest military command which is concentrated in one
+person.
+
+A military organization may be quite correctly compared to a cone, of
+which the base with the largest diameter consists of the rank and file;
+the next higher and smaller section of the cone consists of the next
+higher grades of the army, and so on to the apex, the point of which
+will represent the commander-in-chief.
+
+The soldiers, of whom there are the most, form the lower section of the
+cone and its base. The soldier himself does the stabbing, hacking,
+burning, and pillaging, and always receives orders for these actions
+from men above him; he himself never gives an order. The noncommissioned
+officers (of whom there are fewer) perform the action itself less
+frequently than the soldiers, but they already give commands. An officer
+still less often acts directly himself, but commands still more
+frequently. A general does nothing but command the troops, indicates the
+objective, and hardly ever uses a weapon himself. The commander-in-chief
+never takes direct part in the action itself, but only gives general
+orders concerning the movement of the mass of the troops. A similar
+relation of people to one another is seen in every combination of men
+for common activity--in agriculture, trade, and every administration.
+
+And so without particularly analyzing all the contiguous sections of a
+cone and of the ranks of an army, or the ranks and positions in any
+administrative or public business whatever from the lowest to the
+highest, we see a law by which men, to take associated action, combine
+in such relations that the more directly they participate in performing
+the action the less they can command and the more numerous they are,
+while the less their direct participation in the action itself, the more
+they command and the fewer of them there are; rising in this way from
+the lowest ranks to the man at the top, who takes the least direct share
+in the action and directs his activity chiefly to commanding.
+
+This relation of the men who command to those they command is what
+constitutes the essence of the conception called power.
+
+Having restored the condition of time under which all events occur, we
+find that a command is executed only when it is related to a
+corresponding series of events. Restoring the essential condition of
+relation between those who command and those who execute, we find that
+by the very nature of the case those who command take the smallest part
+in the action itself and that their activity is exclusively directed to
+commanding.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+When an event is taking place people express their opinions and wishes
+about it, and as the event results from the collective activity of many
+people, some one of the opinions or wishes expressed is sure to be
+fulfilled if but approximately. When one of the opinions expressed is
+fulfilled, that opinion gets connected with the event as a command
+preceding it.
+
+Men are hauling a log. Each of them expresses his opinion as to how and
+where to haul it. They haul the log away, and it happens that this is
+done as one of them said. He ordered it. There we have command and power
+in their primary form. The man who worked most with his hands could not
+think so much about what he was doing, or reflect on or command what
+would result from the common activity; while the man who commanded more
+would evidently work less with his hands on account of his greater
+verbal activity.
+
+When some larger concourse of men direct their activity to a common aim
+there is a yet sharper division of those who, because their activity is
+given to directing and commanding, take less part in the direct work.
+
+When a man works alone he always has a certain set of reflections which
+as it seems to him directed his past activity, justify his present
+activity, and guide him in planning his future actions. Just the same is
+done by a concourse of people, allowing those who do not take a direct
+part in the activity to devise considerations, justifications, and
+surmises concerning their collective activity.
+
+For reasons known or unknown to us the French began to drown and kill
+one another. And corresponding to the event its justification appears in
+people's belief that this was necessary for the welfare of France, for
+liberty, and for equality. People ceased to kill one another, and this
+event was accompanied by its justification in the necessity for a
+centralization of power, resistance to Europe, and so on. Men went from
+the west to the east killing their fellow men, and the event was
+accompanied by phrases about the glory of France, the baseness of
+England, and so on. History shows us that these justifications of the
+events have no common sense and are all contradictory, as in the case of
+killing a man as the result of recognizing his rights, and the killing
+of millions in Russia for the humiliation of England. But these
+justifications have a very necessary significance in their own day.
+
+These justifications release those who produce the events from moral
+responsibility. These temporary aims are like the broom fixed in front
+of a locomotive to clear the snow from the rails in front: they clear
+men's moral responsibilities from their path.
+
+Without such justification there would be no reply to the simplest
+question that presents itself when examining each historical event. How
+is it that millions of men commit collective crimes--make war, commit
+murder, and so on?
+
+With the present complex forms of political and social life in Europe
+can any event that is not prescribed, decreed, or ordered by monarchs,
+ministers, parliaments, or newspapers be imagined? Is there any
+collective action which cannot find its justification in political
+unity, in patriotism, in the balance of power, or in civilization? So
+that every event that occurs inevitably coincides with some expressed
+wish and, receiving a justification, presents itself as the result of
+the will of one man or of several men.
+
+In whatever direction a ship moves, the flow of the waves it cuts will
+always be noticeable ahead of it. To those on board the ship the
+movement of those waves will be the only perceptible motion.
+
+Only by watching closely moment by moment the movement of that flow and
+comparing it with the movement of the ship do we convince ourselves that
+every bit of it is occasioned by the forward movement of the ship, and
+that we were led into error by the fact that we ourselves were
+imperceptibly moving.
+
+We see the same if we watch moment by moment the movement of historical
+characters (that is, re-establish the inevitable condition of all that
+occurs--the continuity of movement in time) and do not lose sight of the
+essential connection of historical persons with the masses.
+
+When the ship moves in one direction there is one and the same wave
+ahead of it, when it turns frequently the wave ahead of it also turns
+frequently. But wherever it may turn there always will be the wave
+anticipating its movement.
+
+Whatever happens it always appears that just that event was foreseen and
+decreed. Wherever the ship may go, the rush of water which neither
+directs nor increases its movement foams ahead of it, and at a distance
+seems to us not merely to move of itself but to govern the ship's
+movement also.
+
+Examining only those expressions of the will of historical persons
+which, as commands, were related to events, historians have assumed that
+the events depended on those commands. But examining the events
+themselves and the connection in which the historical persons stood to
+the people, we have found that they and their orders were dependent on
+events. The incontestable proof of this deduction is that, however many
+commands were issued, the event does not take place unless there are
+other causes for it, but as soon as an event occurs--be it what it may--
+then out of all the continually expressed wishes of different people
+some will always be found which by their meaning and their time of
+utterance are related as commands to the events.
+
+Arriving at this conclusion we can reply directly and positively to
+these two essential questions of history:
+
+(1) What is power?
+
+(2) What force produces the movement of the nations?
+
+(1) Power is the relation of a given person to other individuals, in
+which the more this person expresses opinions, predictions, and
+justifications of the collective action that is performed, the less is
+his participation in that action.
+
+(2) The movement of nations is caused not by power, nor by intellectual
+activity, nor even by a combination of the two as historians have
+supposed, but by the activity of all the people who participate in the
+events, and who always combine in such a way that those taking the
+largest direct share in the event take on themselves the least
+responsibility and vice versa.
+
+Morally the wielder of power appears to cause the event; physically it
+is those who submit to the power. But as the moral activity is
+inconceivable without the physical, the cause of the event is neither in
+the one nor in the other but in the union of the two.
+
+Or in other words, the conception of a cause is inapplicable to the
+phenomena we are examining.
+
+In the last analysis we reach the circle of infinity--that final limit
+to which in every domain of thought man's reason arrives if it is not
+playing with the subject. Electricity produces heat, heat produces
+electricity. Atoms attract each other and atoms repel one another.
+
+Speaking of the interaction of heat and electricity and of atoms, we
+cannot say why this occurs, and we say that it is so because it is
+inconceivable otherwise, because it must be so and that it is a law. The
+same applies to historical events. Why war and revolution occur we do
+not know. We only know that to produce the one or the other action,
+people combine in a certain formation in which they all take part, and
+we say that this is so because it is unthinkable otherwise, or in other
+words that it is a law.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+If history dealt only with external phenomena, the establishment of this
+simple and obvious law would suffice and we should have finished our
+argument. But the law of history relates to man. A particle of matter
+cannot tell us that it does not feel the law of attraction or repulsion
+and that that law is untrue, but man, who is the subject of history,
+says plainly: I am free and am therefore not subject to the law.
+
+The presence of the problem of man's free will, though unexpressed, is
+felt at every step of history.
+
+All seriously thinking historians have involuntarily encountered this
+question. All the contradictions and obscurities of history and the
+false path historical science has followed are due solely to the lack of
+a solution of that question.
+
+If the will of every man were free, that is, if each man could act as he
+pleased, all history would be a series of disconnected incidents.
+
+If in a thousand years even one man in a million could act freely, that
+is, as he chose, it is evident that one single free act of that man's in
+violation of the laws governing human action would destroy the
+possibility of the existence of any laws for the whole of humanity.
+
+If there be a single law governing the actions of men, free will cannot
+exist, for then man's will is subject to that law.
+
+In this contradiction lies the problem of free will, which from most
+ancient times has occupied the best human minds and from most ancient
+times has been presented in its whole tremendous significance.
+
+The problem is that regarding man as a subject of observation from
+whatever point of view--theological, historical, ethical, or
+philosophic--we find a general law of necessity to which he (like all
+that exists) is subject. But regarding him from within ourselves as what
+we are conscious of, we feel ourselves to be free.
+
+This consciousness is a source of self-cognition quite apart from and
+independent of reason. Through his reason man observes himself, but only
+through consciousness does he know himself.
+
+Apart from consciousness of self no observation or application of reason
+is conceivable.
+
+To understand, observe, and draw conclusions, man must first of all be
+conscious of himself as living. A man is only conscious of himself as a
+living being by the fact that he wills, that is, is conscious of his
+volition. But his will--which forms the essence of his life--man
+recognizes (and can but recognize) as free.
+
+If, observing himself, man sees that his will is always directed by one
+and the same law (whether he observes the necessity of taking food,
+using his brain, or anything else) he cannot recognize this never-
+varying direction of his will otherwise than as a limitation of it. Were
+it not free it could not be limited. A man's will seems to him to be
+limited just because he is not conscious of it except as free.
+
+You say: I am not free. But I have lifted my hand and let it fall.
+Everyone understands that this illogical reply is an irrefutable
+demonstration of freedom.
+
+That reply is the expression of a consciousness that is not subject to
+reason.
+
+If the consciousness of freedom were not a separate and independent
+source of self-consciousness it would be subject to reasoning and to
+experience, but in fact such subjection does not exist and is
+inconceivable.
+
+A series of experiments and arguments proves to every man that he, as an
+object of observation, is subject to certain laws, and man submits to
+them and never resists the laws of gravity or impermeability once he has
+become acquainted with them. But the same series of experiments and
+arguments proves to him that the complete freedom of which he is
+conscious in himself is impossible, and that his every action depends on
+his organization, his character, and the motives acting upon him; yet
+man never submits to the deductions of these experiments and arguments.
+Having learned from experiment and argument that a stone falls
+downwards, a man indubitably believes this and always expects the law
+that he has learned to be fulfilled.
+
+But learning just as certainly that his will is subject to laws, he does
+not and cannot believe this.
+
+However often experiment and reasoning may show a man that under the
+same conditions and with the same character he will do the same thing as
+before, yet when under the same conditions and with the same character
+he approaches for the thousandth time the action that always ends in the
+same way, he feels as certainly convinced as before the experiment that
+he can act as he pleases. Every man, savage or sage, however
+incontestably reason and experiment may prove to him that it is
+impossible to imagine two different courses of action in precisely the
+same conditions, feels that without this irrational conception (which
+constitutes the essence of freedom) he cannot imagine life. He feels
+that however impossible it may be, it is so, for without this conception
+of freedom not only would he be unable to understand life, but he would
+be unable to live for a single moment.
+
+He could not live, because all man's efforts, all his impulses to life,
+are only efforts to increase freedom. Wealth and poverty, fame and
+obscurity, power and subordination, strength and weakness, health and
+disease, culture and ignorance, work and leisure, repletion and hunger,
+virtue and vice, are only greater or lesser degrees of freedom.
+
+A man having no freedom cannot be conceived of except as deprived of
+life.
+
+If the conception of freedom appears to reason to be a senseless
+contradiction like the possibility of performing two actions at one and
+the same instant of time, or of an effect without a cause, that only
+proves that consciousness is not subject to reason.
+
+This unshakable, irrefutable consciousness of freedom, uncontrolled by
+experiment or argument, recognized by all thinkers and felt by everyone
+without exception, this consciousness without which no conception of man
+is possible constitutes the other side of the question.
+
+Man is the creation of an all-powerful, all-good, and all-seeing God.
+What is sin, the conception of which arises from the consciousness of
+man's freedom? That is a question for theology.
+
+The actions of men are subject to general immutable laws expressed in
+statistics. What is man's responsibility to society, the conception of
+which results from the conception of freedom? That is a question for
+jurisprudence.
+
+Man's actions proceed from his innate character and the motives acting
+upon him. What is conscience and the perception of right and wrong in
+actions that follows from the consciousness of freedom? That is a
+question for ethics.
+
+Man in connection with the general life of humanity appears subject to
+laws which determine that life. But the same man apart from that
+connection appears to be free. How should the past life of nations and
+of humanity be regarded--as the result of the free, or as the result of
+the constrained, activity of man? That is a question for history.
+
+Only in our self-confident day of the popularization of knowledge--
+thanks to that most powerful engine of ignorance, the diffusion of
+printed matter--has the question of the freedom of will been put on a
+level on which the question itself cannot exist. In our time the
+majority of so-called advanced people--that is, the crowd of
+ignoramuses--have taken the work of the naturalists who deal with one
+side of the question for a solution of the whole problem.
+
+They say and write and print that the soul and freedom do not exist, for
+the life of man is expressed by muscular movements and muscular
+movements are conditioned by the activity of the nerves; the soul and
+free will do not exist because at an unknown period of time we sprang
+from the apes. They say this, not at all suspecting that thousands of
+years ago that same law of necessity which with such ardor they are now
+trying to prove by physiology and comparative zoology was not merely
+acknowledged by all the religions and all the thinkers, but has never
+been denied. They do not see that the role of the natural sciences in
+this matter is merely to serve as an instrument for the illumination of
+one side of it. For the fact that, from the point of view of
+observation, reason and the will are merely secretions of the brain, and
+that man following the general law may have developed from lower animals
+at some unknown period of time, only explains from a fresh side the
+truth admitted thousands of years ago by all the religious and
+philosophic theories--that from the point of view of reason man is
+subject to the law of necessity; but it does not advance by a hair's
+breadth the solution of the question, which has another, opposite, side,
+based on the consciousness of freedom.
+
+If men descended from the apes at an unknown period of time, that is as
+comprehensible as that they were made from a handful of earth at a
+certain period of time (in the first case the unknown quantity is the
+time, in the second case it is the origin); and the question of how
+man's consciousness of freedom is to be reconciled with the law of
+necessity to which he is subject cannot be solved by comparative
+physiology and zoology, for in a frog, a rabbit, or an ape, we can
+observe only the muscular nervous activity, but in man we observe
+consciousness as well as the muscular and nervous activity.
+
+The naturalists and their followers, thinking they can solve this
+question, are like plasterers set to plaster one side of the walls of a
+church who, availing themselves of the absence of the chief
+superintendent of the work, should in an access of zeal plaster over the
+windows, icons, woodwork, and still unbuttressed walls, and should be
+delighted that from their point of view as plasterers, everything is now
+so smooth and regular.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+For the solution of the question of free will or inevitability, history
+has this advantage over other branches of knowledge in which the
+question is dealt with, that for history this question does not refer to
+the essence of man's free will but its manifestation in the past and
+under certain conditions.
+
+In regard to this question, history stands to the other sciences as
+experimental science stands to abstract science.
+
+The subject for history is not man's will itself but our presentation of
+it.
+
+And so for history, the insoluble mystery presented by the
+incompatibility of free will and inevitability does not exist as it does
+for theology, ethics, and philosophy. History surveys a presentation of
+man's life in which the union of these two contradictions has already
+taken place.
+
+In actual life each historic event, each human action, is very clearly
+and definitely understood without any sense of contradiction, although
+each event presents itself as partly free and partly compulsory.
+
+To solve the question of how freedom and necessity are combined and what
+constitutes the essence of these two conceptions, the philosophy of
+history can and should follow a path contrary to that taken by other
+sciences. Instead of first defining the conceptions of freedom and
+inevitability in themselves, and then ranging the phenomena of life
+under those definitions, history should deduce a definition of the
+conception of freedom and inevitability themselves from the immense
+quantity of phenomena of which it is cognizant and that always appear
+dependent on these two elements.
+
+Whatever presentation of the activity of many men or of an individual we
+may consider, we always regard it as the result partly of man's free
+will and partly of the law of inevitability.
+
+Whether we speak of the migration of the peoples and the incursions of
+the barbarians, or of the decrees of Napoleon III, or of someone's
+action an hour ago in choosing one direction out of several for his
+walk, we are unconscious of any contradiction. The degree of freedom and
+inevitability governing the actions of these people is clearly defined
+for us.
+
+Our conception of the degree of freedom often varies according to
+differences in the point of view from which we regard the event, but
+every human action appears to us as a certain combination of freedom and
+inevitability. In every action we examine we see a certain measure of
+freedom and a certain measure of inevitability. And always the more
+freedom we see in any action the less inevitability do we perceive, and
+the more inevitability the less freedom.
+
+The proportion of freedom to inevitability decreases and increases
+according to the point of view from which the action is regarded, but
+their relation is always one of inverse proportion.
+
+A sinking man who clutches at another and drowns him; or a hungry mother
+exhausted by feeding her baby, who steals some food; or a man trained to
+discipline who on duty at the word of command kills a defenseless man--
+seem less guilty, that is, less free and more subject to the law of
+necessity, to one who knows the circumstances in which these people were
+placed, and more free to one who does not know that the man was himself
+drowning, that the mother was hungry, that the soldier was in the ranks,
+and so on. Similarly a man who committed a murder twenty years ago and
+has since lived peaceably and harmlessly in society seems less guilty
+and his action more due to the law of inevitability, to someone who
+considers his action after twenty years have elapsed than to one who
+examined it the day after it was committed. And in the same way every
+action of an insane, intoxicated, or highly excited man appears less
+free and more inevitable to one who knows the mental condition of him
+who committed the action, and seems more free and less inevitable to one
+who does not know it. In all these cases the conception of freedom is
+increased or diminished and the conception of compulsion is
+correspondingly decreased or increased, according to the point of view
+from which the action is regarded. So that the greater the conception of
+necessity the smaller the conception of freedom and vice versa.
+
+Religion, the common sense of mankind, the science of jurisprudence, and
+history itself understand alike this relation between necessity and
+freedom.
+
+All cases without exception in which our conception of freedom and
+necessity is increased and diminished depend on three considerations:
+
+(1) The relation to the external world of the man who commits the deeds.
+
+(2) His relation to time.
+
+(3) His relation to the causes leading to the action.
+
+The first consideration is the clearness of our perception of the man's
+relation to the external world and the greater or lesser clearness of
+our understanding of the definite position occupied by the man in
+relation to everything coexisting with him. This is what makes it
+evident that a drowning man is less free and more subject to necessity
+than one standing on dry ground, and that makes the actions of a man
+closely connected with others in a thickly populated district, or of one
+bound by family, official, or business duties, seem certainly less free
+and more subject to necessity than those of a man living in solitude and
+seclusion.
+
+If we consider a man alone, apart from his relation to everything around
+him, each action of his seems to us free. But if we see his relation to
+anything around him, if we see his connection with anything whatever--
+with a man who speaks to him, a book he reads, the work on which he is
+engaged, even with the air he breathes or the light that falls on the
+things about him--we see that each of these circumstances has an
+influence on him and controls at least some side of his activity. And
+the more we perceive of these influences the more our conception of his
+freedom diminishes and the more our conception of the necessity that
+weighs on him increases.
+
+The second consideration is the more or less evident time relation of
+the man to the world and the clearness of our perception of the place
+the man's action occupies in time. That is the ground which makes the
+fall of the first man, resulting in the production of the human race,
+appear evidently less free than a man's entry into marriage today. It is
+the reason why the life and activity of people who lived centuries ago
+and are connected with me in time cannot seem to me as free as the life
+of a contemporary, the consequences of which are still unknown to me.
+
+The degree of our conception of freedom or inevitability depends in this
+respect on the greater or lesser lapse of time between the performance
+of the action and our judgment of it.
+
+If I examine an act I performed a moment ago in approximately the same
+circumstances as those I am in now, my action appears to me undoubtedly
+free. But if I examine an act performed a month ago, then being in
+different circumstances, I cannot help recognizing that if that act had
+not been committed much that resulted from it--good, agreeable, and even
+essential--would not have taken place. If I reflect on an action still
+more remote, ten years ago or more, then the consequences of my action
+are still plainer to me and I find it hard to imagine what would have
+happened had that action not been performed. The farther I go back in
+memory, or what is the same thing the farther I go forward in my
+judgment, the more doubtful becomes my belief in the freedom of my
+action.
+
+In history we find a very similar progress of conviction concerning the
+part played by free will in the general affairs of humanity. A
+contemporary event seems to us to be indubitably the doing of all the
+known participants, but with a more remote event we already see its
+inevitable results which prevent our considering anything else possible.
+And the farther we go back in examining events the less arbitrary do
+they appear.
+
+The Austro-Prussian war appears to us undoubtedly the result of the
+crafty conduct of Bismarck, and so on. The Napoleonic wars still seem to
+us, though already questionably, to be the outcome of their heroes'
+will. But in the Crusades we already see an event occupying its definite
+place in history and without which we cannot imagine the modern history
+of Europe, though to the chroniclers of the Crusades that event appeared
+as merely due to the will of certain people. In regard to the migration
+of the peoples it does not enter anyone's head today to suppose that the
+renovation of the European world depended on Attila's caprice. The
+farther back in history the object of our observation lies, the more
+doubtful does the free will of those concerned in the event become and
+the more manifest the law of inevitability.
+
+The third consideration is the degree to which we apprehend that endless
+chain of causation inevitably demanded by reason, in which each
+phenomenon comprehended, and therefore man's every action, must have its
+definite place as a result of what has gone before and as a cause of
+what will follow.
+
+The better we are acquainted with the physiological, psychological, and
+historical laws deduced by observation and by which man is controlled,
+and the more correctly we perceive the physiological, psychological, and
+historical causes of the action, and the simpler the action we are
+observing and the less complex the character and mind of the man in
+question, the more subject to inevitability and the less free do our
+actions and those of others appear.
+
+When we do not at all understand the cause of an action, whether a
+crime, a good action, or even one that is simply nonmoral, we ascribe a
+greater amount of freedom to it. In the case of a crime we most urgently
+demand the punishment for such an act; in the case of a virtuous act we
+rate its merit most highly. In an indifferent case we recognize in it
+more individuality, originality, and independence. But if even one of
+the innumerable causes of the act is known to us we recognize a certain
+element of necessity and are less insistent on punishment for the crime,
+or the acknowledgment of the merit of the virtuous act, or the freedom
+of the apparently original action. That a criminal was reared among male
+factors mitigates his fault in our eyes. The self-sacrifice of a father
+or mother, or self-sacrifice with the possibility of a reward, is more
+comprehensible than gratuitous self-sacrifice, and therefore seems less
+deserving of sympathy and less the result of free will. The founder of a
+sect or party, or an inventor, impresses us less when we know how or by
+what the way was prepared for his activity. If we have a large range of
+examples, if our observation is constantly directed to seeking the
+correlation of cause and effect in people's actions, their actions
+appear to us more under compulsion and less free the more correctly we
+connect the effects with the causes. If we examined simple actions and
+had a vast number of such actions under observation, our conception of
+their inevitability would be still greater. The dishonest conduct of the
+son of a dishonest father, the misconduct of a woman who had fallen into
+bad company, a drunkard's relapse into drunkenness, and so on are
+actions that seem to us less free the better we understand their cause.
+If the man whose actions we are considering is on a very low stage of
+mental development, like a child, a madman, or a simpleton--then,
+knowing the causes of the act and the simplicity of the character and
+intelligence in question, we see so large an element of necessity and so
+little free will that as soon as we know the cause prompting the action
+we can foretell the result.
+
+On these three considerations alone is based the conception of
+irresponsibility for crimes and the extenuating circumstances admitted
+by all legislative codes. The responsibility appears greater or less
+according to our greater or lesser knowledge of the circumstances in
+which the man was placed whose action is being judged, and according to
+the greater or lesser interval of time between the commission of the
+action and its investigation, and according to the greater or lesser
+understanding of the causes that led to the action.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+Thus our conception of free will and inevitability gradually diminishes
+or increases according to the greater or lesser connection with the
+external world, the greater or lesser remoteness of time, and the
+greater or lesser dependence on the causes in relation to which we
+contemplate a man's life.
+
+So that if we examine the case of a man whose connection with the
+external world is well known, where the time between the action and its
+examination is great, and where the causes of the action are most
+accessible, we get the conception of a maximum of inevitability and a
+minimum of free will. If we examine a man little dependent on external
+conditions, whose action was performed very recently, and the causes of
+whose action are beyond our ken, we get the conception of a minimum of
+inevitability and a maximum of freedom.
+
+In neither case--however we may change our point of view, however plain
+we may make to ourselves the connection between the man and the external
+world, however inaccessible it may be to us, however long or short the
+period of time, however intelligible or incomprehensible the causes of
+the action may be--can we ever conceive either complete freedom or
+complete necessity.
+
+(1) To whatever degree we may imagine a man to be exempt from the
+influence of the external world, we never get a conception of freedom in
+space. Every human action is inevitably conditioned by what surrounds
+him and by his own body. I lift my arm and let it fall. My action seems
+to me free; but asking myself whether I could raise my arm in every
+direction, I see that I raised it in the direction in which there was
+least obstruction to that action either from things around me or from
+the construction of my own body. I chose one out of all the possible
+directions because in it there were fewest obstacles. For my action to
+be free it was necessary that it should encounter no obstacles. To
+conceive of a man being free we must imagine him outside space, which is
+evidently impossible.
+
+(2) However much we approximate the time of judgment to the time of the
+deed, we never get a conception of freedom in time. For if I examine an
+action committed a second ago I must still recognize it as not being
+free, for it is irrevocably linked to the moment at which it was
+committed. Can I lift my arm? I lift it, but ask myself: could I have
+abstained from lifting my arm at the moment that has already passed? To
+convince myself of this I do not lift it the next moment. But I am not
+now abstaining from doing so at the first moment when I asked the
+question. Time has gone by which I could not detain, the arm I then
+lifted is no longer the same as the arm I now refrain from lifting, nor
+is the air in which I lifted it the same that now surrounds me. The
+moment in which the first movement was made is irrevocable, and at that
+moment I could make only one movement, and whatever movement I made
+would be the only one. That I did not lift my arm a moment later does
+not prove that I could have abstained from lifting it then. And since I
+could make only one movement at that single moment of time, it could not
+have been any other. To imagine it as free, it is necessary to imagine
+it in the present, on the boundary between the past and the future--that
+is, outside time, which is impossible.
+
+(3) However much the difficulty of understanding the causes may be
+increased, we never reach a conception of complete freedom, that is, an
+absence of cause. However inaccessible to us may be the cause of the
+expression of will in any action, our own or another's, the first demand
+of reason is the assumption of and search for a cause, for without a
+cause no phenomenon is conceivable. I raise my arm to perform an action
+independently of any cause, but my wish to perform an action without a
+cause is the cause of my action.
+
+But even if--imagining a man quite exempt from all influences, examining
+only his momentary action in the present, unevoked by any cause--we were
+to admit so infinitely small a remainder of inevitability as equaled
+zero, we should even then not have arrived at the conception of complete
+freedom in man, for a being uninfluenced by the external world, standing
+outside of time and independent of cause, is no longer a man.
+
+In the same way we can never imagine the action of a man quite devoid of
+freedom and entirely subject to the law of inevitability.
+
+(1) However we may increase our knowledge of the conditions of space in
+which man is situated, that knowledge can never be complete, for the
+number of those conditions is as infinite as the infinity of space. And
+therefore so long as not all the conditions influencing men are defined,
+there is no complete inevitability but a certain measure of freedom
+remains.
+
+(2) However we may prolong the period of time between the action we are
+examining and the judgment upon it, that period will be finite, while
+time is infinite, and so in this respect too there can never be absolute
+inevitability.
+
+(3) However accessible may be the chain of causation of any action, we
+shall never know the whole chain since it is endless, and so again we
+never reach absolute inevitability.
+
+But besides this, even if, admitting the remaining minimum of freedom to
+equal zero, we assumed in some given case--as for instance in that of a
+dying man, an unborn babe, or an idiot--complete absence of freedom, by
+so doing we should destroy the very conception of man in the case we are
+examining, for as soon as there is no freedom there is also no man. And
+so the conception of the action of a man subject solely to the law of
+inevitability without any element of freedom is just as impossible as
+the conception of a man's completely free action.
+
+And so to imagine the action of a man entirely subject to the law of
+inevitability without any freedom, we must assume the knowledge of an
+infinite number of space relations, an infinitely long period of time,
+and an infinite series of causes.
+
+To imagine a man perfectly free and not subject to the law of
+inevitability, we must imagine him all alone, beyond space, beyond time,
+and free from dependence on cause.
+
+In the first case, if inevitability were possible without freedom we
+should have reached a definition of inevitability by the laws of
+inevitability itself, that is, a mere form without content.
+
+In the second case, if freedom were possible without inevitability we
+should have arrived at unconditioned freedom beyond space, time, and
+cause, which by the fact of its being unconditioned and unlimited would
+be nothing, or mere content without form.
+
+We should in fact have reached those two fundamentals of which man's
+whole outlook on the universe is constructed--the incomprehensible
+essence of life, and the laws defining that essence.
+
+Reason says: (1) space with all the forms of matter that give it
+visibility is infinite, and cannot be imagined otherwise. (2) Time is
+infinite motion without a moment of rest and is unthinkable otherwise.
+(3) The connection between cause and effect has no beginning and can
+have no end.
+
+Consciousness says: (1) I alone am, and all that exists is but me,
+consequently I include space. (2) I measure flowing time by the fixed
+moment of the present in which alone I am conscious of myself as living,
+consequently I am outside time. (3) I am beyond cause, for I feel myself
+to be the cause of every manifestation of my life.
+
+Reason gives expression to the laws of inevitability. Consciousness
+gives expression to the essence of freedom.
+
+Freedom not limited by anything is the essence of life, in man's
+consciousness. Inevitability without content is man's reason in its
+three forms.
+
+Freedom is the thing examined. Inevitability is what examines. Freedom
+is the content. Inevitability is the form.
+
+Only by separating the two sources of cognition, related to one another
+as form to content, do we get the mutually exclusive and separately
+incomprehensible conceptions of freedom and inevitability.
+
+Only by uniting them do we get a clear conception of man's life.
+
+Apart from these two concepts which in their union mutually define one
+another as form and content, no conception of life is possible.
+
+All that we know of the life of man is merely a certain relation of free
+will to inevitability, that is, of consciousness to the laws of reason.
+
+All that we know of the external world of nature is only a certain
+relation of the forces of nature to inevitability, or of the essence of
+life to the laws of reason.
+
+The great natural forces lie outside us and we are not conscious of
+them; we call those forces gravitation, inertia, electricity, animal
+force, and so on, but we are conscious of the force of life in man and
+we call that freedom.
+
+But just as the force of gravitation, incomprehensible in itself but
+felt by every man, is understood by us only to the extent to which we
+know the laws of inevitability to which it is subject (from the first
+knowledge that all bodies have weight, up to Newton's law), so too the
+force of free will, incomprehensible in itself but of which everyone is
+conscious, is intelligible to us only in as far as we know the laws of
+inevitability to which it is subject (from the fact that every man dies,
+up to the knowledge of the most complex economic and historic laws).
+
+All knowledge is merely a bringing of this essence of life under the
+laws of reason.
+
+Man's free will differs from every other force in that man is directly
+conscious of it, but in the eyes of reason it in no way differs from any
+other force. The forces of gravitation, electricity, or chemical
+affinity are only distinguished from one another in that they are
+differently defined by reason. Just so the force of man's free will is
+distinguished by reason from the other forces of nature only by the
+definition reason gives it. Freedom, apart from necessity, that is,
+apart from the laws of reason that define it, differs in no way from
+gravitation, or heat, or the force that makes things grow; for reason,
+it is only a momentary undefinable sensation of life.
+
+And as the undefinable essence of the force moving the heavenly bodies,
+the undefinable essence of the forces of heat and electricity, or of
+chemical affinity, or of the vital force, forms the content of
+astronomy, physics, chemistry, botany, zoology, and so on, just in the
+same way does the force of free will form the content of history. But
+just as the subject of every science is the manifestation of this
+unknown essence of life while that essence itself can only be the
+subject of metaphysics, even the manifestation of the force of free will
+in human beings in space, in time, and in dependence on cause forms the
+subject of history, while free will itself is the subject of
+metaphysics.
+
+In the experimental sciences what we know we call the laws of
+inevitability, what is unknown to us we call vital force. Vital force is
+only an expression for the unknown remainder over and above what we know
+of the essence of life.
+
+So also in history what is known to us we call laws of inevitability,
+what is unknown we call free will. Free will is for history only an
+expression for the unknown remainder of what we know about the laws of
+human life.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+History examines the manifestations of man's free will in connection
+with the external world in time and in dependence on cause, that is, it
+defines this freedom by the laws of reason, and so history is a science
+only in so far as this free will is defined by those laws.
+
+The recognition of man's free will as something capable of influencing
+historical events, that is, as not subject to laws, is the same for
+history as the recognition of a free force moving the heavenly bodies
+would be for astronomy.
+
+That assumption would destroy the possibility of the existence of laws,
+that is, of any science whatever. If there is even a single body moving
+freely, then the laws of Kepler and Newton are negatived and no
+conception of the movement of the heavenly bodies any longer exists. If
+any single action is due to free will, then not a single historical law
+can exist, nor any conception of historical events.
+
+For history, lines exist of the movement of human wills, one end of
+which is hidden in the unknown but at the other end of which a
+consciousness of man's will in the present moves in space, time, and
+dependence on cause.
+
+The more this field of motion spreads out before our eyes, the more
+evident are the laws of that movement. To discover and define those laws
+is the problem of history.
+
+From the standpoint from which the science of history now regards its
+subject on the path it now follows, seeking the causes of events in
+man's freewill, a scientific enunciation of those laws is impossible,
+for however man's free will may be restricted, as soon as we recognize
+it as a force not subject to law, the existence of law becomes
+impossible.
+
+Only by reducing this element of free will to the infinitesimal, that
+is, by regarding it as an infinitely small quantity, can we convince
+ourselves of the absolute inaccessibility of the causes, and then
+instead of seeking causes, history will take the discovery of laws as
+its problem.
+
+The search for these laws has long been begun and the new methods of
+thought which history must adopt are being worked out simultaneously
+with the self-destruction toward which--ever dissecting and dissecting
+the causes of phenomena--the old method of history is moving.
+
+All human sciences have traveled along that path. Arriving at
+infinitesimals, mathematics, the most exact of sciences, abandons the
+process of analysis and enters on the new process of the integration of
+unknown, infinitely small, quantities. Abandoning the conception of
+cause, mathematics seeks law, that is, the property common to all
+unknown, infinitely small, elements.
+
+In another form but along the same path of reflection the other sciences
+have proceeded. When Newton enunciated the law of gravity he did not say
+that the sun or the earth had a property of attraction; he said that all
+bodies from the largest to the smallest have the property of attracting
+one another, that is, leaving aside the question of the cause of the
+movement of the bodies, he expressed the property common to all bodies
+from the infinitely large to the infinitely small. The same is done by
+the natural sciences: leaving aside the question of cause, they seek for
+laws. History stands on the same path. And if history has for its object
+the study of the movement of the nations and of humanity and not the
+narration of episodes in the lives of individuals, it too, setting aside
+the conception of cause, should seek the laws common to all the
+inseparably interconnected infinitesimal elements of free will.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+From the time the law of Copernicus was discovered and proved, the mere
+recognition of the fact that it was not the sun but the earth that moves
+sufficed to destroy the whole cosmography of the ancients. By disproving
+that law it might have been possible to retain the old conception of the
+movements of the bodies, but without disproving it, it would seem
+impossible to continue studying the Ptolemaic worlds. But even after the
+discovery of the law of Copernicus the Ptolemaic worlds were still
+studied for a long time.
+
+From the time the first person said and proved that the number of births
+or of crimes is subject to mathematical laws, and that this or that mode
+of government is determined by certain geographical and economic
+conditions, and that certain relations of population to soil produce
+migrations of peoples, the foundations on which history had been built
+were destroyed in their essence.
+
+By refuting these new laws the former view of history might have been
+retained; but without refuting them it would seem impossible to continue
+studying historic events as the results of man's free will. For if a
+certain mode of government was established or certain migrations of
+peoples took place in consequence of such and such geographic,
+ethnographic, or economic conditions, then the free will of those
+individuals who appear to us to have established that mode of government
+or occasioned the migrations can no longer be regarded as the cause.
+
+And yet the former history continues to be studied side by side with the
+laws of statistics, geography, political economy, comparative philology,
+and geology, which directly contradict its assumptions.
+
+The struggle between the old views and the new was long and stubbornly
+fought out in physical philosophy. Theology stood on guard for the old
+views and accused the new of violating revelation. But when truth
+conquered, theology established itself just as firmly on the new
+foundation.
+
+Just as prolonged and stubborn is the struggle now proceeding between
+the old and the new conception of history, and theology in the same way
+stands on guard for the old view, and accuses the new view of subverting
+revelation.
+
+In the one case as in the other, on both sides the struggle provokes
+passion and stifles truth. On the one hand there is fear and regret for
+the loss of the whole edifice constructed through the ages, on the other
+is the passion for destruction.
+
+To the men who fought against the rising truths of physical philosophy,
+it seemed that if they admitted that truth it would destroy faith in
+God, in the creation of the firmament, and in the miracle of Joshua the
+son of Nun. To the defenders of the laws of Copernicus and Newton, to
+Voltaire for example, it seemed that the laws of astronomy destroyed
+religion, and he utilized the law of gravitation as a weapon against
+religion.
+
+Just so it now seems as if we have only to admit the law of
+inevitability, to destroy the conception of the soul, of good and evil,
+and all the institutions of state and church that have been built up on
+those conceptions.
+
+So too, like Voltaire in his time, uninvited defenders of the law of
+inevitability today use that law as a weapon against religion, though
+the law of inevitability in history, like the law of Copernicus in
+astronomy, far from destroying, even strengthens the foundation on which
+the institutions of state and church are erected.
+
+As in the question of astronomy then, so in the question of history now,
+the whole difference of opinion is based on the recognition or
+nonrecognition of something absolute, serving as the measure of visible
+phenomena. In astronomy it was the immovability of the earth, in history
+it is the independence of personality--free will.
+
+As with astronomy the difficulty of recognizing the motion of the earth
+lay in abandoning the immediate sensation of the earth's fixity and of
+the motion of the planets, so in history the difficulty of recognizing
+the subjection of personality to the laws of space, time, and cause lies
+in renouncing the direct feeling of the independence of one's own
+personality. But as in astronomy the new view said: "It is true that we
+do not feel the movement of the earth, but by admitting its immobility
+we arrive at absurdity, while by admitting its motion (which we do not
+feel) we arrive at laws," so also in history the new view says: "It is
+true that we are not conscious of our dependence, but by admitting our
+free will we arrive at absurdity, while by admitting our dependence on
+the external world, on time, and on cause, we arrive at laws."
+
+In the first case it was necessary to renounce the consciousness of an
+unreal immobility in space and to recognize a motion we did not feel; in
+the present case it is similarly necessary to renounce a freedom that
+does not exist, and to recognize a dependence of which we are not
+conscious.
\ No newline at end of file
diff --git a/year4/semester2/CT414/assignments/assignment2/data/wealth_of_nations.txt b/year4/semester2/CT414/assignments/assignment2/data/wealth_of_nations.txt
new file mode 100644
index 00000000..b0558901
--- /dev/null
+++ b/year4/semester2/CT414/assignments/assignment2/data/wealth_of_nations.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,51589 @@
+INTRODUCTION AND PLAN OF THE WORK 8 
+
+BOOK I OF THE CAUSES OF IMPROVEMENT IN THE PRODUCTIVE POWERS OF 
+LABOUR, AND OF THE ORDER ACCORDING TO WHICH ITS PRODUCE IS NATU- 
+RALLY DISTRIBUTED AMONG THE DIFFERENT RANKS OF THE PEOPLE 10 
+
+CHAPTER I OF THE DIVISION OF LABOUR 10 
+
+CHAPTER II OF THE PRINCIPLE WHICH GIVES OCCASION TO THE DIVISION OF 
+
+LABOUR 18 
+
+CHAPTER III THAT THE DIVISION OF LABOUR IS LIMITED BY THE EXTENT OF 
+
+THE MARKET 21 
+
+CHAPTER IV OF THE ORIGIN AND USE OF MONEY 25 
+
+CHAPTER V OF THE REAL AND NOMINAL PRICE OF COMMODITIES, OR OF THEIR 
+
+PRICE IN LABOUR, AND THEIR PRICE IN MONEY 31 
+
+CHAPTER VI OF THE COMPONENT PART OF THE PRICE OF COMMODITIES 45 
+
+CHAPTER VII OF THE NATURAL AND MARKET PRICE OF COMMODITIES 51 
+
+CHAPTER VIII OF THE WAGES OF LABOUR 58 
+
+CHAPTER IX OF THE PROFITS OF STOCK 77 
+
+CHAPTER X OF WAGES AND PROFIT IN THE DIFFERENT EMPLOYMENTS OF 
+
+LABOUR AND STOCK 86 
+
+CHAPTER XI OF THE RENT OF LAND 124 
+
+
+
+BOOK II OF THE NATURE, ACCUMULATION, AND EMPLOYMENT OF STOCK... 222 
+
+INTRODUCTION 222 
+
+CHAPTER I OF THE DIVISION OF STOCK 224 
+
+CHAPTER II OF MONEY, CONSIDERED AS A PARTICULAR BRANCH OF THE GEN- 
+ERAL STOCK OF THE SOCIETY, OR OF THE EXPENSE OF MAINTAINING THE 
+
+NATIONAL CAPITAL 230 
+
+CHAPTER III OF THE ACCUMULATION OF CAPITAL, OR OF PRODUCTIVE AND 
+
+UNPRODUCTIVE LABOUR 270 
+
+CHAPTER IV OF STOCK LENT AT INTEREST 286 
+
+CHAPTER V OF THE DIFFERENT EMPLOYMENTS OF CAPITALS 293 
+
+BOOK III OF THE DIFFERENT PROGRESS OF OPULENCE IN DIFFERENT NA- 
+TIONS 307 
+
+CHAPTER I OF THE NATURAL PROGRESS OF OPULENCE 307 
+
+CHAPTER II OF THE DISCOURAGEMENT OF AGRICULTURE IN THE ANCIENT 
+
+STATE OF EUROPE, AFTER THE FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE 311 
+
+CHAPTER III OF THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF CITIES AND TOWNS, AFTER THE 
+FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE 321 
+
+CHAPTER IV HOW THE COMMERCE OF TOWNS CONTRIBUTED TO THE IM- 
+PROVEMENT OF THE COUNTRY 330 
+
+BOOK IV OF SYSTEMS OF POLITICAL ECONOMY 341 
+
+CHAPTER I OF THE PRINCIPLE OF THE COMMERCIAL OR MERCANTILE SYSTEM 342 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II OF RESTRAINTS UPON IMPORTATION FROM FOREIGN COUNTRIES 
+OF SUCH GOODS AS CAN BE PRODUCED AT HOME 361 
+
+CHAPTER III OF THE EXTRAORDINARY RESTRAINTS UPON THE IMPORTATION 
+OF GOODS OF ALMOST ALL KINDS, FROM THOSE COUNTRIES WITH WHICH 
+
+THE BALANCE IS SUPPOSED TO BE DISADVANTAGEOUS 378 
+
+Part I — Of the Unreasonableness of those Restraints, even upon the-Principles of the Commercial System 378 
+
+PART II. — Of the Unreasonableness of those extraordinary Restraints, upon other Principles 391 
+
+CHAPTER IV OF DRAWBACKS 400 
+
+CHAPTER V OF BOUNTIES 405 
+
+CHAPTER VI OF TREATIES OF COMMERCE 437 
+
+CHAPTER VII OF COLONIES 447 
+
+CHAPTER VIII CONCLUSION OF THE MERCANTILE SYSTEM 522 
+
+CHAPTER IX OF THE AGRICULTURAL SYSTEMS, OR OF THOSE SYSTEMS OF PO- 
+LITICAL ECONOMY WHICH REPRESENT THE PRODUCE OF LAND, AS EITHER 
+THE SOLE OR THE PRINCIPAL SOURCE OF THE REVENUE AND WEALTH OF 
+
+EVERY COUNTRY 539 
+
+APPENDIX TO BOOK IV , 562 
+
+BOOK V OF THE REVENUE OF THE SOVEREIGN OR COMMONWEALTH 564 
+
+CHAPTER I OF THE EXPENSES OF THE SOVEREIGN OR COMMONWEALTH 564 
+
+PART I Of the Expense of Defence 564 
+
+PART II Of the Expense of Justice 579 
+
+PART III Of the Expense of public Works and public Institutions 590 
+
+PART IV Of the Expense of supporting the Dignity of the Sovereign 666 
+
+CONCLUSION 667 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II OF THE SOURCES OF THE GENERAL OR PUBLIC REVENUE OF THE 
+SOCIETY 668 
+
+PART I Of the Funds, or Sources, of Revenue, which may peculiarly belong to the Sovereign or Commonwealth 668 
+
+PART II Of Taxes 676 
+
+CHAPTER III OF PUBLIC DEBTS 749 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+AN INQUIRYINTOTHE 
+
+NATURE AND CAUSES 
+
+OF 
+
+THE WEALTH OF 
+NATIONS 
+
+by 
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+INTRODUCTION AND PLAN OFTHE 
+WORK 
+
+The annual labour of every nation is the fund which 
+originally supplies it with all the necessaries and 
+conveniences of life which it annually consumes, and 
+which consist always either in theimmediateproduceofthatlabour, 
+or in what is purchased with that produce from other nations. 
+
+
+
+According, therefore, as this produce, or what is purchased with 
+it, bearsagreater or smaller proportion to thenumber of those who 
+are to consume it, the nation will be better or worse supplied with 
+all the necessaries and conveniences for which it has occasion. 
+
+But this proportion must in every nation be regulated by two 
+different circumstances: first, bytheskill, dexterity, andjudgment 
+with which its labour is generally applied; and, secondly, by the 
+proportion between the number of those who are employed in 
+useful labour, and that of those who are not so employed. W hat- 
+ever be the soil, climate, or extent of territory of any particular 
+nation, the abundance or scantiness of its annual supply must, in 
+that particular situation, depend upon those two circumstances. 
+
+The abundance or scantiness of this supply, too, seems to de- 
+pend moreupon theformer of those two circumstances than upon 
+the latter. Among the savage nations of hunters and fishers, every 
+individual whoisableto work is more or less employed in useful 
+labour, and endeavours to provide, as well as he can, the neces- 
+saries and conveniences of life, for himself, and such of hisfamily 
+or tribe as are either too old, or too young, or too infirm, to go a- 
+huntingand fishing. Such nations, however, areso miserably poor, 
+that, from mere want, they are frequently reduced, or at least think 
+themselves reduced, to the necessity someti mes of di rectly destroy- 
+ing, and sometimesof abandoning their infants, their old people, 
+
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+and those afflicted with lingering diseases, to perish with hunger, 
+or to be devoured by wild beasts. Among civilized and thriving 
+nations, on the contrary, though a great number of people do not 
+labour at all, many of whom consume the produce of ten times, 
+frequently of a hundred times, more labour than the greater part 
+of those who work; yet the produce of the whole labour of the 
+society is so great, that all are often abundantly supplied; and a 
+workman, even of the lowest and poorest order, if heisfrugal and 
+industrious, may enjoy a greater share of the necessaries and 
+conveniencies of life than it is possiblefor any savage to acquire. 
+
+The causes of this improvement in the productive powers of 
+labour, and the order according to which its produce is naturally 
+distributed among the different ranks and conditions of men in 
+the society, make the subject of the first book of this Inquiry. 
+
+W hatever be the actual state of the skill, dexterity, and judg- 
+ment, with which labour is applied in any nation, the abundance 
+or scantiness of its annual supply must depend, during the con- 
+tin u an ce of that state, upon the proportion between the number 
+of those who are annually employed in useful labour, and that of 
+those who are not so employed. The number of useful and pro- 
+ductive labourers, it will hereafter appear, is everywhere in pro- 
+portion to the quantity of capital stock which is employed in set- 
+ting them to work, and to the particular way in which it is so 
+
+
+
+employed. The second book, therefore, treatsof thenatureof capital 
+stock, of the manner in which it is gradually accumulated, and of 
+the different quantities of labour which it puts into motion, ac- 
+cording to the different ways in which it is employed. 
+
+N ations tolerably well advanced as to skill, dexterity, and judg- 
+ment, in theapplication of labour, havefollowed very different plans 
+in the general conduct or direction of it; and those plans have not 
+all been equallyfavourabletothegreatnessof itsproduce.Thepolicy 
+of some nations has given extraordinary encouragement to the in- 
+dustry of thecountry; that of others to theindustry of towns. Scarce 
+any nation has dealt equally and impartially with every sort of in- 
+dustry. Since thedown-fall of the Rom an em pi re, thepolicyof Eu- 
+ropehasbeen morefavourabletoarts, manufactures, and commerce, 
+theindustry of towns, than to agriculture, the Industry of thecoun- 
+try. The circumstances which seem to have introduced and estab- 
+lished this policy are explained in the third book. 
+
+Though those different plans were, perhaps, first introduced by 
+the private interests and prejudicesof particular orders of men, with- 
+out any regard to, or foresight of, their consequences upon thegen- 
+eral welfare of the society; yet they have given occasion to very dif- 
+ferent theories of political economy; of which some magnify the 
+importance of that industry which iscarried on in towns, othersof 
+that which iscarried on in thecountry. Those theories have had a 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+considerableinfluence, not only upon theopinionsof men of learn- 
+ing, but upon the public conduct of princes and sovereign states. I 
+have endeavoured, in the fourth book, to explain as fully and dis- 
+tinctly as I can those different theories, and the principal effects 
+which they have produced in different ages and nations. 
+
+To explain in what has consisted the revenue of the great body 
+of the people, or what has been the nature of those funds, which, 
+in different ages and nations, have supplied their annual consump- 
+tion, istheobjectof these four first books. Thefifth and last book 
+treats of the revenue of the sovereign, or commonwealth. In this 
+book I have endeavoured to shew, first, what are the necessary 
+expenses of the sovereign, or commonwealth; which of those ex- 
+penses ought to be defrayed by the general contribution of the 
+whole society, and which of them, by that of some particular part 
+only, or of some particular members of it: secondly, what are the 
+different methods in which the whole society may be made to 
+contribute towardsdefrayingtheexpenses incumbent on the whole 
+society, and what are the principal advantages and inconvenien- 
+ces of each of those methods; and, thirdly and lastly, what are the 
+reasonsand causeswhich haveinduced almost all modern govern- 
+ments to mortgage somepart of thisrevenue, or to contract debts; 
+and what have been theeffectsof thosedebtsupon thereal wealth, 
+the annual produce of the land and labour of the society. 
+
+
+
+BOOK I 
+
+OF THE CAUSES OF IMPROVEMENT IN 
+THE PRODUCTIVE POWERSOF 
+LABOUR, AND OF TH E ORDER AC- 
+CORDING TO WH ICH ITSPRODUCEIS 
+NATURALLY DISTRIBUTED AMONG 
+THE DIFFERENT RANKSOFTHE 
+PEOPLE. 
+
+CHAPTER I 
+
+OFTHE DIVISION OF LABOUR 
+
+The greatest improvements in theproductivepowersof 
+labour, and the greater part of the skill, dexterity, and 
+judgment, with which it is anywhere directed, or ap- 
+plied, seem to have been theeffectsof the division of labour. The 
+effects of the division of labour, in thegeneral business of society, 
+will be more easily understood, by considering in what manner it 
+operates in some particular manufactures. It is commonly sup- 
+posed to be carried furthest in some very trifling ones; not per- 
+haps that it really iscarried further in them than in others of more 
+
+
+
+10 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+importance: but in those trifling manufactureswhich are destined 
+to supply the small wants of but a small number of people, the 
+whole number of workmen must necessarily be small; and those 
+employed in every different branch of the work can often be col- 
+lected into the same workhouse, and placed at once under the 
+view of the spectator. 
+
+In those great manufactures, on the contrary, which are des- 
+tined to supply the great wants of the great body of the people, 
+every different branch of the work employs so great a number of 
+workmen, that it is impossible to collect them all into the same 
+workhouse. We can seldom see more, at one time, than those 
+employed in one single branch. Though in such manufactures, 
+therefore, the work may really bedivided into a much greater num- 
+ber of parts, than in thoseof a more trifling nature, thedivision is 
+not near so obvious, and has accordingly been much less observed. 
+
+To takean example, therefore, from a very trifling manufacture, 
+but one in which thedivision of labour has been very often taken 
+notice of, the trade of a pin-maker: a workman not educated to 
+this business (which thedivision of labour has rendered a distinct 
+trade, nor acquainted with the use of the machinery employed in 
+it (totheinvention of which thesamedivision of labour has prob- 
+ably given occasion), could scarce, perhaps, with his utmost in- 
+dustry, makeonepin in aday, and certainly could not maketwenty 
+
+
+
+But in the way in which this business is now carried on, not only 
+thewhole work isa peculiar trade, but it isdivided into a number 
+of branches, of which the greater part are likewise peculiar trades. 
+Oneman draws out the wire; an other straights it; a third cutsit; a 
+fourth pointsit; afifth grinds it at the top for receiving the head; 
+to makethehead requires two or threedistinct operations; to put 
+it on is a peculiar business; to whiten the pins is another; it iseven 
+a trade by itself to put them into the paper; and the important 
+business of making a pin is, in this manner, divided into about 
+eighteen distinct operations, which, in some manufactories, are 
+all performed by distinct hands, though in others the same man 
+will sometimes perform two or three of them. I have seen a small 
+manufactory of this kind, where ten men only were employed, 
+and where some of them consequently performed two or three 
+distinct operations. But though they were very poor, and there- 
+fore but indifferently accommodated with the necessary machin- 
+ery, they could, when they exerted themselves, makeamong them 
+about twelve pounds of pins in aday. There are in a pound up- 
+wards of four thousand pins of a middling size. Those ten per- 
+sons, therefore, could make among them upwards of forty-eight 
+thousand pins in a day. Each person, therefore, making a tenth 
+part of forty-eight thousand pins, might be considered asmaking 
+four thousand eight hundred pins in a day. But if they had all 
+
+
+
+11 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+wrought separately and independently, and without any of them 
+having been educated to thispeculiar business, they certainly could 
+not each of them have made twenty, perhapsnotonepin in aday; 
+that is, certainly, not the two hundred and fortieth, perhaps not 
+thefour thousand eight hundredth, part of what they are at present 
+capable of performing, in consequence of a proper division and 
+combination of their different operations. 
+
+In every other art and manufacture, th e effects of the d i vi si on of 
+labour are similar to what they are in this very trifling one, though, 
+in many of them, the labour can neither be so much subdivided, 
+nor reduced to so great a simplicity of operation. The division of 
+labour, however, so far as it can be introduced, occasions, in every 
+art, a proportionable increase of the productive powers of labour. 
+The separation of different trades and employments from one 
+another, seems to have taken place in consequence of this advan- 
+tage. This separation, too, is generally carried furthest in those 
+countries which enjoy thehighestdegreeof industry and improve- 
+ment; what is the work of one man, in a rude state of society, 
+being generally that of several in an improved one. In every im- 
+proved society, the farmer is generally nothing but a farmer; the 
+manufacturer, nothing but a manufacturer. The labour, too, which 
+is necessary to produce any one complete manufacture, is almost 
+always divided among a great number of hands. H ow many dif- 
+
+
+
+ferent trades are em ployed in each branch of thelinen and woollen 
+manufactures, from the growers of the flax and the wool, to the 
+bleachers and smoothers of thelinen, or to the dyers and dressers 
+of the cloth ! T he nature of agriculture, indeed, does not admit of 
+so many subdivisions of labour, nor of so completea separation of 
+one business from another, as manufactures. It is impossible to 
+separate so entirely the business of the grazier from that of the 
+corn-farmer, as the trade of the carpenter is commonly separated 
+from that of the smith. The spinner is almost always a distinct 
+person from the, weaver; but the ploughman, the harrower, the 
+sower of the seed, and the reaper of the corn, are often the same. 
+The occasions for those different sorts of labour returning with 
+the different seasons of the year, it is impossible that one man 
+should be constantly employed in any oneof them. Thisimpossi- 
+bility of making so complete and entire a separation of all the 
+different branches of labour employed in agriculture, is perhaps 
+the reason why the improvement of the productive powers of 
+labour, in this art, does not always keep pace with their improve- 
+ment in manufactures. The most opulent nations, indeed, gener- 
+ally excel all their neighboursin agriculture as well asin manufac- 
+tures; but they are commonly moredistinguished by their superi- 
+ority in the latter than in the former. Their lands are in general 
+better cultivated, and having more labour and expense bestowed 
+
+
+
+12 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+upon them, produce more in proportion to the extent and natural 
+fertility of the ground. But this superiority of produce is seldom 
+much more than in proportion to the superiority of labour and 
+expense. In agriculture, the labour of the rich country is not al- 
+ways much more productive than that of the poor; or, at least, it is 
+never so much more productive, as it commonly is in manufac- 
+tures. The corn of the rich country, therefore, will not always, in 
+the same degree of goodness, come cheaper to market than that of 
+the poor. The corn of Poland, in the same degree of goodness, is as 
+cheap as that of France, notwithstanding the superior opulence 
+and improvement of the latter country. The corn of France is, in 
+the corn -provinces, fully as good, and in most years nearly about 
+thesamepricewith thecorn of England, though, in opulence and 
+improvement, France is perhaps inferior to England. The corn- 
+lands of England, however, are better cultivated than those of 
+France, and the corn-lands of France are said to be much better 
+cultivated than those of Poland. But though the poor country, 
+notwithstanding the inferiority of its cultivation, can, in some 
+measure, rival the rich in the cheapness and goodness of its corn, 
+it can pretend to no such competition in its manufactures, at least 
+if those manufactures suit the soil, climate, and situation, of the 
+rich country. T hesilksof Franceare better and cheaper than those 
+of England, because thesilk manufacture, at least under the present 
+
+
+
+high dutiesupon the importation of raw silk, doesnot so well suit 
+the climate of England as that of France. But the hardware and 
+the coarse woollens of England are beyond all comparison supe- 
+rior to those of France, and much cheaper, too, in the same degree 
+of goodness. I n Poland there are said to be scarce any manufac- 
+tures of any kind, a few of those coarser household manufactures 
+excepted, without which no country can well subsist. 
+
+This great increase in the quantity of work, which, in conse- 
+quence of the division of labour, the same number of people are 
+capable of performing, is owing to three different circumstances; 
+first, to theincreaseof dexterity in every particular workman; sec- 
+ondly, to thesaving of thetimewhichiscommonly lost in passing 
+from one species of work to another; and, lastly, to the invention 
+of a great number of machines which facilitate and abridgelabour, 
+and enable one man to do the work of many. 
+
+First, the improvement of the dexterity of theworkmen, neces- 
+sarily increases the quantity of the work he can perform; and the 
+division of labour, by reducing every man's business to someone 
+simple operation, and by making this operation the sole employ- 
+ment of his life, necessarily increases very much the dexterity of 
+the workman. A common smith, who, though accustomed to 
+handle the hammer, has never been used to make nails, if, upon 
+some particular occasion, he is obliged to attempt it, will scarce, I 
+
+
+
+13 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+am assured, beableto make above two or three hundred nailsin a 
+day, and those, too, very bad ones. A smith who has been accus- 
+tomed to makenails, but whose sole or principal business has not 
+been that of a nailer, can seldom, with hisutmost diligence, make 
+more than eight hundred or a thousand nailsin a day. I have seen 
+several boys, under twenty years of age, who had never exercised 
+any other trade but that of making nails, and who, when they 
+exerted themselves, could make, each of them, upwards of two 
+thousand three hundred nailsin aday.Themakingofanail, how- 
+ever, is by no means one of the simplest operations. The same 
+person blows the bellows, stirs or mends the fire as there is occa- 
+sion, heats the iron, and forges every part of the nail: in forging 
+the head, too, he is obliged to change his tools. T he different op- 
+erations into which the making of a pin, or of a metal button, is 
+subdivided, are all of them much more simple, and the dexterity 
+of the person, of whose life it has been the sole business to per- 
+form them, is usually much greater. The rapidity with which some 
+of the operations of those manufactures are performed, exceeds 
+what the human hand could, by those who had never seen them, 
+he supposed capable of acquiring. 
+
+Secondly, The advantage which is gained by saving the time 
+commonly lost in passing from one sort of work to another, is 
+much greater than weshould at first view beapttoimagineit.lt is 
+
+
+
+impossibleto pass very quickly from onekind of work to another, 
+that is carried on in a different place, and with quite different 
+tools. A country weaver, who cultivatesa small farm, must loosea 
+good deal of timein passing from his loom tothefield, and from 
+thefield to hisloom. W hen thetwo trades can be carried on in the 
+same workhouse, the loss of time is, no doubt, much less It is, 
+even in this case, however, very considerable. A man commonly 
+saunters a little in turning his hand from one sort of employment 
+to another. W hen he first begins the new work, he is seldom very 
+keen and hearty; his mind, as they say, does not go to it, and for 
+sometime he rather trifles than applies to good purpose. The habit 
+of sauntering, and of indolent careless application, which isnatu- 
+rally, or rather necessarily, acquired by every country workman 
+who is obliged to change his work and histools every half hour, 
+and to apply his hand in twenty different ways almost every day of 
+hislife, rendershim almost always slothful and lazy, and incapable 
+of any vigorous application, even on the most pressing occasions. 
+Independent, therefore, of hisdefici en cy in point of dexterity, this 
+cause alone must always reduce considerably thequantity of work 
+which he is capable of performing. 
+
+Thirdly, and lastly, everybody must besensiblehow much labour 
+isfacilitated and abridged bytheapplication of proper machinery. 
+It is unnecessary to give any example. I shall only observe, there- 
+
+
+
+14 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+fore, that the invention of all those machines by which labour is 
+so much facilitated and abridged, seems to have been originally 
+owing to the division of labour. M en are much more likely to 
+discover easier and readier methods of attaining any object, when 
+the whole attention of their minds is directed towards that single 
+object, than when itisdissipated among a great variety of things. 
+But, in consequence of the division of labour, the whole of every 
+man's attention comes naturally to be directed towards some one 
+very simple object. It is naturally to be expected, therefore, that 
+some one or other of those who are employed in each particular 
+branch of labour should soon find out easier and readier methods 
+of performing their own particular work, whenever the nature of 
+itadmitsof such improvement. A great part of the machines made 
+useof in those manufactures in which labour is most subdivided, 
+were originally the invention of common workmen, who, being 
+each of them employed in some very simple operation, naturally 
+turned their thoughts towardsfinding out easier and readier meth- 
+odsof performing it. W hoever has been much accustomed to visit 
+such manufactures, must frequently have been shewn very pretty 
+machines, which were the inventions of such workmen, in order 
+to facilitate and quicken their own particular part of the work. In 
+the first fire engines {this was the current designation for steam 
+engines}, a boy was constantly employed to open and shut alter- 
+
+
+
+nately the communication between the boiler and the cylinder, 
+accordingasthepiston either ascended or descended. Oneof those 
+boys, who loved to play with his companions, observed that, by 
+tyingastringfromthehandleofthevalvewhich opened thiscom- 
+munication to another part of the machine, the valve would open 
+and shut without his assistance, and leavehim at liberty to divert 
+himself with his play-fellows. ne of the greatest improvements 
+that has been madeupon thismachine, sinceit was first invented, 
+was in this manner the discovery of a boy who wanted to save his 
+own labour. 
+
+All the improvements in machinery, however, haveby no means 
+been the inventions of those who had occasion to use the ma- 
+chines. Many improvements have been made by the ingenuity of 
+themakersof the machines, when to makethem became the busi- 
+ness of a peculiar trade; and some by that of those who are called 
+philosophers, or men of speculation, whose trade it is not to do 
+any thing, but to observe every thing, and who, upon that ac- 
+count, areoften capableof combining together thepowers of the 
+most distant and dissimilar objects in the progress of society, phi- 
+losophy or speculation becomes, like every other employment, 
+the principal or sole trade and occupation of a particular class of 
+citizens Likeevery other employment, too, it issubdivided into a 
+great number of different branches, each of which affords occupa- 
+
+
+
+15 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+tion to a peculiar tribe or classof philosophers; and thissubdivision 
+of employment in philosophy, as well as in every other business, 
+improve dexterity, and saves time. Each individual becomes more 
+expert in his own peculiar branch, more work is done upon the 
+whole, and the quantity of science is considerably increased by it. 
+
+It isthegreat multiplication of the productions of all thediffer- 
+ent arts, in consequence of the division of labour, which occa- 
+sions, in a well-governed society, that universal opulence which 
+extends itself to the lowest ranks of the people. Every workman 
+hasa great quantity of hisown work to dispose of beyond what he 
+himself has occasion for; and every other workman being exactly 
+in thesamesituation, heisenabled to exchangea great quantity of 
+his own goods for a great quantity or, what comes to the same 
+thing, for the priceof a great quantity of theirs. H esuppliesthem 
+abundantly with what they have occasion for, and they accommo- 
+date him as amply with what he has occasion for, and a general 
+plenty diffuses itself through all the different ranks of the society. 
+
+bservethe accommodation of the most common artificer or 
+daylabourer in a civilized and thriving country, and you will per- 
+ceive that thenumber of people, of whoseindustry a part, though 
+but a small part, has been employed in procuring him thisaccom- 
+modation, exceedsall computation. The woollen coat, for example, 
+which covers the day-labourer, as coarse and rough as it may ap- 
+
+
+
+pear, is the produce of the joint labour of a great multitude of 
+workmen. Thesh epherd, thesorter of thewool, the wool-comber 
+or carder, thedyer, thescribbler, thespinner, the weaver, thefuller, 
+the dresser, with many others, must all join their different arts in 
+order to complete even this homely production. H ow many mer- 
+chants and carriers, besides, must have been employed in trans- 
+porting the materials from some of those workmen to others who 
+often live in a very distant part of the country? How much com- 
+merce and navigation in particular, how many ship-builders, sail- 
+ors, sail-makers, rope-makers, must have been employed in order 
+to bring together the different drugs made use of by the dyer, 
+which often comefrom the remotest corners of the world?W hat a 
+variety of labour, too, is necessary in order to produce thetoolsof 
+the meanest of those workmen! To say nothing of such compli- 
+cated machines as the ship of the sailor, the mill of thefuller, or 
+even the loom of the weaver, let us consider only what a variety of 
+labour is requisite in order to form that very simple machine, the 
+shears with which the shepherd clips the wool. The miner, the 
+builder of thefurnace for smelting the ore thefeller of thetimber, 
+the burner of the charcoal to be made use of in the smelting- 
+house, the brickmaker, the bricklayer, the workmen who attend 
+thefurnace, themillwright, theforger, thesmith, must all of them 
+join their different arts in order to produce them. Were we to 
+
+
+
+16 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+examine, in the same manner, all the different parts of his dress 
+and household furniture, the coarse linen shirt which he wears 
+next hisskin, theshoes which cover his feet, the bed which helies 
+on, and all thedifferent partswhich composeit, the kitchen-grate 
+at which he prepares his victuals, the coals which he makes use of 
+for that purpose, dug from the bowels of the earth, and brought 
+to him, perhaps, by a long sea and a long I and -carriage, all the 
+other utensilsof hiskitchen, all thefurnitureof histable, theknives 
+and forks, the earthen or pewter plates upon which he serves up 
+and divides his victuals, thedifferent hands employed in prepar- 
+ing his bread and his beer, the glass window which letsin theheat 
+and the light, and keeps out the wind and the rain, with all the 
+knowledge and art requisitefor preparing that beautiful and happy 
+invention, without which these northern parts of the world could 
+scarce have afforded a very comfortable habitation, together with 
+thetoolsof all thedifferent workmen employed in producing those 
+different conveniences; if we examine, I say, all these things, and 
+consider what a variety of labour is employed about each of them, 
+we shall be sensible that, without the assistance and co-operation 
+of many thousands, thevery meanest person in a civilized country 
+could not be provided, even according to, what we very falsely 
+imagine, the easy and simple manner in which he is commonly 
+accommodated. Compared, indeed, with the more extravagant 
+
+
+
+luxury of the great, his accommodation must no doubt appear 
+extremely simple and easy; and yet it may be true, perhaps, that 
+the accommodation of an European prince does not always so 
+much exceed that of an industriousand frugal peasant, as the ac- 
+commodation of the latter exceeds that of many an African king, 
+the absolute masters of the lives and liberties of ten thousand na- 
+ked savages. 
+
+
+
+17 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II 
+
+OFTHEPRINCIPLEWHICH GIVESOC- 
+CASION TO THE DIVISION OF LABOUR 
+
+This division of labour, from which so many advantages are de- 
+rived, is not originally the effect of any human wisdom, which 
+foresees and intends that general opulence to which it gives occa- 
+sion. It isthenecessary, though very slow and gradual, consequence 
+of a certain propensity in human nature, which has in view no 
+such extensive utility; the propensity to truck, barter, and exchange 
+onething for another. 
+
+W hether this propensity be one of those original principles in 
+human nature, of which no further account can be given, or 
+whether, as seems more probable, it be the necessary consequence 
+of the faculties of reason and speech, it belongsnotto our present 
+subject to inquire. Itiscommontoall men,andtobefoundin no 
+other race of animals, which seem to know neither this nor any 
+other species of contracts. Two greyhounds, in running down the 
+samehare, have sometimes the appearance of acting in some sort 
+of concert. Each turns her towards his companion, or endeavours 
+to intercept her when his companion turns her towards himself. 
+T his, however, is not the effect of any contract, but of the acci- 
+
+
+
+dental concurrence of their passions in the same object at that 
+particular time. N obody ever saw a dog makea fair and deliberate 
+exchange of one bone for another with another dog. Nobody ever 
+saw one animal, by its gestures and natural cries signify to an- 
+other, this is mine, that yours; I am willing to give this for that. 
+W hen an animal wants to obtain something either of a man, or of 
+another animal, it has no other means of persuasion, but to gain 
+thefavour of those whose service it requires. A puppy fawns upon 
+its dam, and a spaniel endeavours, by a thousand attractions, to 
+engage theattention of its master who is at dinner, when it wants 
+to be fed by him. M an sometimes uses the same arts with his 
+brethren, and when he has no other means of engaging them to 
+act according to his inclinations, endeavours by every servile and 
+fawning attention to obtain their good will. H ehasnot time, how- 
+ever, to do this upon every occasion. In civilized society he stands 
+at all times in need of the co-operation and assistance of great 
+multitudes, whilehiswholelifeisscarcesufficientto gain thefriend- 
+shipof a few persons. In almost every other race of animals, each 
+individual, when it is grown up to maturity, is entirely indepen- 
+dent, and in its natural state has occasion for the assistance of no 
+other living creature. But man has almost constant occasion for 
+the help of his brethren, and it is in vain for him to expect it from 
+their benevolence only. Hewill be more likely to prevail if hecan 
+
+
+
+18 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+interest their self- love in his favour, and shew them that it is for 
+their own advantage to do for him what he requires of them. 
+Whoever offers to another a bargain of any kind, proposes to do 
+this. Give me that which I want, and you shall have this which 
+you want, is the meaning of every such offer; and it is in this 
+manner that we obtain from one another the far greater part of 
+those good offices which we stand in need of. It is not from the 
+benevolence of the butcher the brewer, or the baker that we expect 
+our dinner, but from their regard to their own interest. We ad- 
+dress ourselves, not to their humanity, but to their self-love, and 
+never talk to them of our own necessities, but of their advantages. 
+N obody but a beggar chooses to depend chiefly upon thebenevo- 
+lenceof his fellow-citizens. Even a beggar does not depend upon 
+it entirely. The charity of well-disposed people, indeed, supplies 
+him with the wholefund of his subsistence. But though this prin- 
+ciple ultimately provides him with all the necessaries of life which 
+he has occasion for, it neither does nor can provide him with them 
+as he has occasion for them. The greater part of his occasional 
+wants are supplied in the same manner as those of other people, 
+by treaty, by barter, and by purchase. With the money which one 
+man giveshim he purchases food. The old clothes which another 
+bestows upon him he exchanges for other clothes which suit him 
+better, or for lodging, or for food, or for money, with which he 
+
+
+
+can buy either food, clothes, or lodging, as he has occasion. 
+
+As it is by treaty, by barter, and by purchase, that we obtain 
+from one another the greater part of those mutual good offices 
+which we stand in need of, so it isthissame trucking disposition 
+which originally givesoccasion tothedivision of labour. In a tribe 
+of hunters or shepherds, a particular person makes bows and ar- 
+rows, for example, with more readiness and dexterity than any 
+other. H efrequently exchanges them for cattleor for venison, with 
+his companions; and he finds at last that he can, in this manner, 
+get more cattle and venison, than if he himself went to thefield to 
+catch them. From a regard to hisown interest, therefore, themak- 
+ing of bows and arrows grows to be his chief business, and he 
+becomes a sort of armourer. Another excels in making theframes 
+and covers of their little huts or moveable houses H e is accus- 
+tomed to be of use in this way to his neighbours, who reward him 
+in the same manner with cattle and with venison, till at last he 
+finds it his interest to dedicate himself entirely to this employ- 
+ment, and to become a sort of house-carpenter. I n the same man- 
+ner a third becomes a smith or a brazier; a fourth, a tanner or 
+dresser of hides or skins, the principal part of the clothing of sav- 
+ages. And thus the certainty of being able to exchange all that 
+surplus part of the produce of his own labour, which is over and 
+abovehisown consumption, for such parts of theproduceof other 
+
+
+
+19 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+men's labour as he may have occasion for, encourages every man 
+to apply himself to a particular occupation, and to cultivate and 
+bring to perfection whatever talent of genius he may possess for 
+that particular species of business. 
+
+The difference of natural talents in different men, is, in reality, 
+much less than weare aware of; andtheverydifferentgeniuswhich 
+appears to distinguish men of different professions, when grown 
+up to maturity, is not upon many occasions so much the cause, as 
+the effect of the division of labour. The difference between the 
+most dissimilar characters, between a philosopher and a common 
+street porter, for example, seemsto arisenot so much from nature, 
+as from habit, custom, and education. When they came in to the 
+world, and for the first six or eight years of their existence, they 
+were, perhaps, very much alike, and neither their parentsnor play- 
+fellows could perceive any remarkable difference. About that age, 
+or soon after, they cometo be employed in very different occupa- 
+tions. The difference of talents comes then to betaken notice of, 
+and widens by degrees, till at last the vanity of the philosopher is 
+willing to acknowledge scarce any resemblance. But without the 
+disposition to truck, barter, and exchange, every man must have 
+procured to himself every necessary and conveniency of life which 
+hewanted. All must havehad the same dutiesto perform, and the 
+same work to do, and there could have been nosuchdifferenceof 
+
+
+
+employment as could alone give occasion to any great difference 
+of talents. 
+Asit isthisdisposition which formsthat differenceof talents, so 
+
+remarkable among men of different professions, so it is this same 
+disposition which renders that difference useful. M any tribes of 
+animals, acknowledged to be all of the same species, derive from 
+natureamuch moreremarkabledistinction of genius, than what, 
+antecedent to custom and education, appearsto take place among 
+men. By nature a philosopher isnot in geniusand disposition half 
+so different from a street porter, asa mastiff isfrom a grey-hound, 
+or a grey-hound from a spaniel, or this last from a shepherd's dog. 
+Those different tribes of animals, however, though all of the same 
+species are of scarce any use to one another. T he strength of the 
+mastiff is not in the least supported either by the swiftness of the 
+greyhound, or by the sagacity of the spanid, or by the docility of 
+thesh epherd's dog. The effects of thosedifferent geniuses and tal- 
+ents, for want of the power or disposition to barter and exchange, 
+cannot be brought into a common stock, and do not in the least 
+contribute to the better accommodation and conveniency of the 
+species. Each animal is still obliged to support and defend itsdf, 
+separately and independently, and derives no sort of advantage 
+from that variety of talents with which nature has distinguished 
+itsfdlows. Among men, on the contrary, the most dissimilar ge- 
+
+
+
+20 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+niuses are of use to one another; the different produces of their 
+respective talents, by the general disposition to truck, barter, and 
+exchange, being brought, as it were, into a common stock, where 
+every man may purchase whatever part of the produce of other 
+men's talents he has occasion for, 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III 
+
+THATTHE DIVISION OF LABOUR IS LIM- 
+ITED BYTHE EXTENT OFTHE MARKET 
+
+As it is the power of exchanging that gives occasion to the divi- 
+sion of labour, so the extent of this division must always be lim- 
+ited by the extent of that power, or, in other words, by the extent 
+of the market. When the market is very small, no person can have 
+any encouragement to dedicate himself entirely to one employ- 
+ment, for want of the power to exchange all that surplus part of 
+the produce of his own labour, which is over and above his own 
+consumption, for such parts of the produce of other men's labour 
+as he has occasion for. 
+
+There are some sorts of industry, even of thelowest kind, which 
+can be carried on nowhere but in a great town. A porter, for ex- 
+ample, can find employment and subsistence in no other place. A 
+village is by much too narrow a sphere for him; even an ordinary 
+market-town is scarce large enough to afford him constant occu- 
+pation. In the lone houses and very small villages which are scat- 
+tered about in so desert a country as the highlands of Scotland, 
+every farmer must be butcher, baker, and brewer, for hisown fam- 
+ily. In such situations we can scarce expect to find even a smith, a 
+
+
+
+21 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+carpenter, or a mason, within less than twenty miles of another of 
+thesametrade. The scattered families that live at eight or ten miles 
+distance from the nearest of them, must learn to perform them- 
+selves a great number of little pieces of work, for which, in more 
+populouscountries, they would call in the assistance of thosework- 
+men. Country workmen are almost everywhere obliged to apply 
+themselves to all the different branches of industry that have so 
+much affinity to one another as to be employed about the same 
+sort of materials. A country carpenter deals in every sort of work 
+that is madeof wood; a country smith in every sort of work that is 
+made of iron. The former is not only a carpenter, but a joiner, a 
+cabinet-maker, and even acarverin wood, as well asawheel-wright, 
+a plough-wright, a cart and waggon-maker. T he employments of 
+the latter are still more various It is impossible there should be 
+such a trade as even that of a nailer in the remote and inland parts 
+of the highlands of Scotland. Such a workman at the rate of a 
+thousand nailsa-day, and threehundred workingdaysin theyear, 
+will make three hundred thousand nails in theyear. But in such a 
+situation it would be impossible to dispose of one thousand, that 
+is, of one day's work in theyear. As by means of water-carriage, a 
+more extensive market is opened to every sort of industry than 
+what land-carriage alone can afford it, so it is upon the sea- coast, 
+and along the banks of navigable rivers, that industry of every 
+
+
+
+kind naturally begins to subdivide and improve itself, and it is 
+frequently not till a long time after that those improvements ex- 
+tend themselvestotheinland partsofthecountry A broad-wheeled 
+waggon, attended by two men, and drawn by eight horses, in about 
+six weeks time, carries and brings back between London and 
+Edinburgh near four ton weight of goods. In about thesametime 
+aship navigated by sixor eight men, and sailing between theports 
+of London and Leith, frequently carries and brings back two hun- 
+dred ton weight of goods. Six or eight men, therefore, by the help 
+of water-carriage, can carry and bring back, in thesametime, the 
+same quantity of goods between London and Edinburgh as fifty 
+broad-wheeled waggons, attended by a hundred men, and drawn 
+by four hundred horses. Upon two hundred tons of goods, there- 
+fore, carried by the cheapest land-carriage from London to 
+Edinburgh, theremust be charged the maintenance of a hundred 
+men for three weeks, and both the maintenance and what is nearly 
+equal to maintenancethe wear and tear of four hundred horses, as 
+well as of fifty great waggons. W hereas, upon thesamequantity of 
+goods carried by water, there is to be charged only the mainte- 
+nance of six or eight men, and the wear and tear of a ship of two 
+hundred tons burthen, together with the value of the superior 
+risk, or the difference of the insurance between land and water- 
+carriage. Were there no other communication between those two 
+
+
+
+22 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+places, therefore, but by land-carriage, as no goodscould be trans- 
+ported from the one to the other, except such whose price was 
+very considerable in proportion to their weight, they could carry 
+on but a small part of that commerce which at present subsists 
+between them, and consequently could give but a small part of 
+that encouragement which they at present mutually afford to each 
+other's industry. Therecould be littleor no commerce of any kind 
+between thedistant partsof theworld. What goodscould bear the 
+expenseof land-carriage between London and Calcutta?Or if there 
+were any so precious as to be able to support this expense, with 
+what safety could they be transported through theterritoriesof so 
+many barbarous nations? Those two cities, however, at present 
+carry on a very considerable commerce with each other, and by 
+mutually affording a market, give a good deal of encouragement 
+to each other's industry. 
+
+Since such, therefore, are the advantages of water-carriage, it is 
+natural that the first improvements of art and industry should be 
+made where thisconveniencyopensthewholeworld for a market 
+to the produceof every sort of labour, and that they should always 
+bemuch later in extending themselvesintotheinland parts of the 
+country. T he inland partsof thecountry can for a long time have 
+no other market for the greater part of their goods, but the coun- 
+try which lies round about them, and separates them from the 
+
+
+
+sea- coast, an d th e great n avi gab I e ri vers. T h e exten t of th e m arket, 
+therefore, must for a long time be in proportion to the riches and 
+populousness of that country, and consequently their improve- 
+ment must always be posterior to the improvement of that coun- 
+try. In our North American colonies, the plantations have con- 
+stantly followed either the sea-coast or the banks of the navigable 
+rivers, and have scarce anywhere extended themselves to any con- 
+siderable distance from both. 
+
+The nations that, according to the best authenticated history, 
+appear to have been first civilized, were those that dwelt round the 
+coast of the M editerranean sea. That sea, by far the greatest in let 
+thatisknown intheworld, having no tides, nor consequently any 
+waves, except such as are caused by the wind only, was, by the 
+smoothnessof its surface, aswell asbythemultitudeof itsislands, 
+and theproximity of itsneighbouring shores, extremely favourable 
+to the infant navigation of theworld; when, from their ignorance 
+of thecompass, men were afraid to quit the view of thecoast, and 
+from theimperfection of theart of ship-building, to abandon them- 
+selves to the boisterous waves of the ocean. To pass beyond the 
+pillars of H ercules, that is, to sail out of the straits of Gibraltar, 
+was, in the ancient world, long considered as a most wonderful 
+and dangerous exploit of navigation. It was late before even the 
+Phoenicians and Carthaginians, the most skilful navigators and 
+
+
+
+23 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+ship-buildersof those old times, attempted it; and they were, for a 
+longtime, the only nations that did attempt it. 
+
+f all thecountrieson thecoast of the M editerranean sea, Egypt 
+seems to have been the first in which either agriculture or manu- 
+factures were cultivated and improved to any considerabledegree. 
+U pper Egypt extends itself nowhere above a few miles from the 
+N ile; and in Lower Egypt, that great river breaks itself into many 
+different canals, which, with the assistance of a little art, seem to 
+have afforded a communication by water-carriage, not only be- 
+tween all the great towns, but between all the considerable vil- 
+lages, and even to many farm-houses in the country, nearly in the 
+samemannerastheRhineandtheM aesedoin Holland at present. 
+The extent and easiness of this inland navigation was probably 
+one of the principal causes of the early improvement of Egypt. 
+
+The improvements in agriculture and manufactures seem like- 
+wise to have been of very great antiquity in the provinces of Ben- 
+gal, in the East Indies, and in some of the eastern provinces of 
+China, though the great extent of this antiquity is not authenti- 
+cated by any histories of whose authority we, in this part of the 
+world, are well assured. In Bengal, the Ganges, and several other 
+great rivers, form a great number of navigable canals, in the same 
+manner as the N ile does in Egypt. In the eastern provinces of 
+China, too, several great riversform, by their different branches, a 
+
+
+
+multitude of canals, and, by communicating with one another, af- 
+ford an inland navigation much more extensive than that either of 
+theN ileortheGanges, or, perhaps, than both of them put together. 
+I tisremarkable, that neither theancient Egyptians, nor the Indians, 
+nor the Chinese, encouraged foreign commerce, but seem all to 
+havederived their great opulence from this inland navigation. 
+
+All theinland parts of Africa, and all that part of Asia which lies 
+any considerable way north of the Euxine and Caspian seas, the 
+ancient Scythia, the modern Tartary and Siberia, seem, in all ages 
+of the world, to have been in the same barbarous and uncivilized 
+state in which we find them at present. The sea of Tartary is the 
+frozen ocean, which admits of no navigation; and though someof 
+the greatest rivers in the world run through that country, they are 
+at too great a distance from one another to carry commerce and 
+communication through the greater part of it. There are in Africa 
+none of those great inlets, such as the Baltic and Adriatic seas in 
+Europe, the M editerranean and Euxine seas in both Europe and 
+Asia, and the gulfs of Arabia, Persia, India, Bengal, and Siam, in 
+Asia, to carry maritime commerce into the interior parts of that 
+great continent; and the great rivers of Africa are at too great a 
+distance from one another to give occasion to any considerable 
+inland navigation. The commerce, besides, which any nation can 
+carry on by means of a river which does not break itself into any 
+
+
+
+24 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+great number of branches or canals, and which runs into another 
+territory before it reaches the sea, can never be very considerable, 
+because it is always in the power of the nations who possess that 
+other territory to obstruct the communication between the upper 
+country and thesea.Thenavigation of theDanubeisof very little 
+use to the different states of Bavaria, Austria, and H ungary, in 
+comparison of what it would be, if any of them possessed the 
+whole of its course, till it falls into the Black sea. 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV 
+
+OF THE ORIGIN AN D USE OF M ON EY 
+
+When the division of labour has been once thoroughly estab- 
+lished, it is but a very small part of a man's wants which the pro- 
+duceofhisown labour can supply. H esuppliesthefar greater part 
+of them by exchanging that surplus part of the produceof his own 
+labour, which is over and above his own consumption, for such 
+parts of the produce of other men's labour as he has occasion for. 
+Every man thus lives by exchanging, or becomes, in some mea- 
+sure, a merchant, and the society itself grows to be what is prop- 
+erly a commercial society. 
+
+But when the division of labour first began to take place, this 
+power of exchangi ng must frequently have been very much clogged 
+and embarrassed in its operations. One man, we shall suppose, 
+has mo re of a certain commodity than hehimself has occasion for, 
+while another has less. The former, consequently, would be glad 
+to dispose of; and the latter to purchase, a part of this superfluity. 
+But if this latter should chance to have nothing that the former 
+stands in need of, no exchange can be made between them. The 
+butcher has more meat in hisshop than hehimself can consume, 
+and the brewer and the baker would each of them be willing to 
+
+
+
+25 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+purchase a part of it. But they have nothing to offer in exchange, 
+except thedifferent productions of their respective trades, and the 
+butcher is already provided with all the bread and beer which he 
+hasimmediateoccasion for. N o exchange can, in thiscase, bemade 
+between them. H e cannot be their merchant, nor they his cus- 
+tomers; and they are all of them thus mutually less serviceable to 
+one another. In order to avoid the inconveniency of such situa- 
+tions, every prudent man in every period of society, after thefirst 
+establishment of the division of labour, must naturally have en- 
+deavoured to manage his affairs in such amanner, as to have at all 
+times by him, besides the peculiar produce of his own industry, a 
+certain quantity of someonecommodity or other, such asheimag- 
+ined few people would be likely to refuse in exchange for the pro- 
+duce of their industry. M any different commodities, it is prob- 
+able, were successively both thought of and employed for this 
+purpose. I n the rude ages of society, cattle are said to have been 
+the common instrument of commerce; and, though they must 
+have been a most inconvenient one, yet, in old times, we find 
+things were frequently valued according to the number of cattle 
+which had been given in exchange for them. The armour of 
+Diomede, says Homer, cost only nine oxen; but that of Glaucus 
+cost a hundred oxen. Saltissaidtobethecommon instrument of 
+commerce and exchanges in Abyssinia; a species of shells in some 
+
+
+
+parts of the coast of India; dried cod at N ewfoundland; tobacco in 
+Virginia; sugar in someof ourWest India colonies; hides or dressed 
+leather in someother countries; and thereisatthisday a villageln 
+Scotland, where it is not uncommon, I am told, for a workman to 
+carry nails instead of money to the baker's shop or the ale-house. 
+I n all countries, however, men seem at last to have been deter- 
+mined by irresistible reasons to give the preference, for this em- 
+ployment, to metals above every other commodity. M etals can 
+not only be kept with as little loss as any other commodity, scarce 
+any thing being less perishable than they are, but they can like- 
+wise, without any loss, bedivided into any number of parts, as by 
+fusion those parts can easily be re-united again; a quality which 
+no other equally durable commodities possess, and which, more 
+than any other quality, renders them fit to be the instruments of 
+commerce and circulation. The man who wanted to buy salt, for 
+example, and had nothing but cattle to give in exchange for it, 
+must have been obliged to buy salt to the value of a whole ox, or a 
+whole sheep, at a time. H e could seldom buy less than this, be- 
+cause what he was to give for it could seldom bedivided without 
+loss; and if he had a mind to buy more, he must, for the same 
+reasons, have been obliged to buy double or triple the quantity, 
+the value, to wit, of two or threeoxen, or of two or three sheep. I f, 
+on the contrary, instead of sheep or oxen, he had metals to give in 
+
+
+
+26 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+exchange for it, he could easily proportion the quantity of the 
+metal to the precise quantity of the commodity which he had 
+immediate occasion for. 
+
+D ifferent metals have been made use of by different nationsfor 
+this purpose. Iron was the common instrument of commerce 
+among the ancient Spartans, copper among the ancient Romans, 
+and gold and silver among all rich and commercial nations. 
+
+Those metals seem originally to have been made use of for this 
+purpose in rude bars, without any stamp or coinage. Thus we are 
+told by Pliny (Plin. Hist Nat. lib. 33, cap. 3), upon theauthority 
+of Timaeus, an ancient historian, that, till the time of Servius 
+Tullius, the Romans had no coined money, but made use of 
+unstamped bars of copper, to purchase whatever they had occa- 
+sion for. These rude bars, therefore, performed at this time the 
+function of money. 
+
+Theuseof metalsin this rude state was attended with two very 
+considerable inconveniences; first, with the trouble of weighing, 
+and secondly, with that of assaying them. I n the precious metals, 
+where a small difference in the quantity makes a great difference 
+in thevalue, even thebusinessof weighing, with proper exactness, 
+requires at I east very accurate weights and scales. The weighing of 
+gold, in particular, is an operation of some nicety In the coarser 
+metals, indeed, wherea small error would beof little consequence, 
+
+
+
+less accuracy would, no doubt, be necessary. Yet weshould find it 
+excessively troublesome if every time a poor man had occasion 
+either to buy or sell a farthing's worth of goods, he was obliged to 
+weigh the farthing. The operation of assaying is still more diffi- 
+cult, still more tedious; and, unless a part of the metal is fairly 
+melted in the crucible, with proper dissolvents, any conclusion 
+that can bedrawn from it is extremely uncertain. Before the insti- 
+tution of coined money, however, unless they went through this 
+tedious and difficult operation, people must always have been li- 
+abletothegrossest frauds and impositions; and instead of a pound 
+weight of pure silver, or pure copper, might receive, in exchange 
+for their goods, an adulterated composition of the coarsest and 
+cheapest materials, which had, however, in their outward appear- 
+ance, been madetoresemblethose metals. To prevent such abuses, 
+to facilitate exchanges, and thereby to encourage all sorts of in- 
+dustry and commerce, it has been found necessary, in all countries 
+that have made any considerable advances towards improvement, 
+to affix a public stamp upon certain quantities of such particular 
+metals, aswerein those countries commonly made use of to pur- 
+chase goods. H encetheorigin of coined money, and of those pub- 
+lic offices called mints; institutionsexactlyofthesamenaturewith 
+those of the aulnagers and stamp-masters of woollen and linen 
+cloth. All of them are equally meant to ascertain, by means of a 
+
+
+
+27 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+public stamp, the quantity and uniform goodness of those differ- 
+ent commodities when brought to market. 
+
+The first public stamps of this kind that were affixed to the 
+current metals, seem in many cases to have been intended to as- 
+certain, what it was both most difficult and most important to 
+ascertain, the goodness or fineness of the metal, and to have re- 
+sembled the sterling mark which is at present affixed to plate and 
+bars of silver, or the Spanish mark which is sometimes affixed to 
+ingots of gold, and which, being struck only upon onesideofthe 
+piece, and not covering the wholesurface, ascertains the fineness, 
+but not the weight of the metal. Abraham weighs to Ephron the 
+four hundred shekels of silver which he had agreed to pay for the 
+field of M achpel ah. T hey are said, however, to bethecurrent money 
+of the merchant, and yet are received by weight, and not by tale, in 
+the same manner as ingots of gold and bars of silver are at present. 
+T he revenues of the ancient Saxon kingsof England are said to have 
+been paid, not in money, but in kind, that is, in victualsand provi- 
+sions of all sorts. William theConqueror introduced thecustom of 
+paying them in money. This money, however, was for a long time, 
+received at the exchequer, by weight, and not by tale. 
+
+Theinconveniency and difficulty of weighing those metals with 
+exactness, gave occasion to the institution of coins, of which the 
+stamp, covering entirely both sides of the piece, and sometimes 
+
+
+
+theedges too, was supposed to ascertain not only thefinen ess, but 
+the weight of the metal. Such coins, therefore, were received by 
+tale, as at present, without thetroubleof weighing. 
+
+The denominations of those coins seem originally to have ex- 
+pressed the weight or quantity of metal contained in them. In the 
+timeof ServiusTullius, who first coined money at Rome, the Ro- 
+man as or pondo contained a Roman pound of good copper. It 
+wasdivided, inthesamemannerasourTroyespound, into twelve 
+ounces, each of which contained a real ounceof good copper. The 
+English pound sterling, in thetimeof Edward I . contained a pound, 
+Tower weight, of silver of a known fineness. The Tower pound 
+seems to have been something more than the Roman pound, and 
+something less than theTroyes pound. This last was not intro- 
+duced into the mint of England till the 18th of Henry the VI II. 
+TheFrenchlivrecontained, in thetimeof Charlemagne, apound, 
+Troyes weight, of silver of a known fineness. The fair of Troyes in 
+Champaign was at that time frequented by all the nations of Eu- 
+rope, and the weights and measures of so famous a market were 
+generally known and esteemed. TheScotsmoney pound contained, 
+from the time of Alexander the First to that of Robert Bruce, a 
+pound of silver of the same weight and fineness with the English 
+pound sterling. English, French, and Scots pennies, too, contained 
+all of them originally a real penny-weight of silver, the twentieth 
+
+
+
+28 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+part of an ounce, and the two hundred-and-fortieth part of a 
+pound. The shilling, too, seems originally to have been the de- 
+nomination of a weight. "W hen wheat is at twelve shillings the 
+quarter," says an ancient statute of H enry III. "then wastel bread 
+of a farthing shall weigh eleven shillings and fourpence". The pro- 
+portion, however, between the shilling, and either the penny on 
+the one hand, or the pound on the other, seems not to have been 
+so constant and uniform as that between thepenny and thepound. 
+During the first race of the kings of France, the French sou or 
+shilling appears upon different occasions to have contained five, 
+twelve, twenty, and forty pennies. Among the ancient Saxons, a 
+shilling appears at onetime to have contained only five pennies, 
+and it is not improbable that it may have been as variable among 
+them as among their neighbours, the ancient Franks. From the 
+time of Charlemagne among the French, and from that of Will- 
+iam the Conqueror among the English, the proportion between 
+the pound, the shilling, and the penny, seems to have been uni- 
+formly the same as at present, though the value of each has been 
+very different; for in every country of the world, I believe, the 
+avarice and injustice of princes and sovereign states, abusing the 
+confidence of their subjects, have by degrees diminished the real 
+quantity of metal, which had been originally contained in their 
+coins. The Roman as, in the latter ages of the republic, was re- 
+
+
+
+duced to the twenty-fourth part of itsoriginal value, and, instead 
+of weighing a pound, came to weigh only half an ounceTheEn- 
+glish pound and penny contain at present about a third only; the 
+Scots pound and penny about a thirty-sixth; and theFrench pound 
+and penny about a sixty-sixth part of their original value. Bymeans 
+of those operations, the princes and sovereign states which per- 
+formed them were enabled, in appearance, to pay their debts and 
+fulfil theirengagem en tswith a smaller quantity of silver than would 
+otherwise have been requisite. It was indeed in appearance only; 
+for their creditors were really defrauded of a part of what was due 
+to them. All other debtorsinthestatewere allowed thesameprivi- 
+lege, and might pay with the same nominal sum of the new and 
+debased coin whatever they had borrowed in theold. Such opera- 
+tions, therefore, have always proved favourable to the debtor, and 
+ruinous to the creditor, and have sometimes produced a greater 
+and more universal revolution in the fortunes of private persons, 
+than could have been occasioned by a very great public calamity. 
+
+It is in this manner that money has become, in all civilized na- 
+tions, the universal instrument of commerce, by the intervention 
+of which goods of all kinds are bought and sold, or exchanged for 
+one another. 
+
+What are therules which men naturally observe, in exchanging 
+them either for money, or for one another, I shall now proceed to 
+
+
+
+29 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+examine. These rules determine what may be called the relative or 
+exchangeable value of goods. 
+
+Theword VALUE, it is to be observed, has two different mean- 
+ings, and sometimes expresses the utility of some particular ob- 
+ject, and sometimes the power of purchasing other goods which 
+thepossession of that object conveys. Theonemaybecalled 'value 
+in use;' the other, 'valuein exchange.' The things which have the 
+greatest value in usehave frequently littleor no valuein exchange; 
+and, on the contrary, those which have the greatest value in ex- 
+change have frequently little or no value in use. N othing is more 
+useful than water; but it will purchase scarceany thing; scarce any 
+thing can behad in exchange for it. A diamond, on thecontrary, 
+has scarce any value in use; but a very great quantity of other 
+goods may frequently be had in exchange for it. 
+
+In order to investigate theprinciples which regulate the exchange 
+able value of commodities, I shall endeavour to shew, 
+
+First, what is the real measure of this exchangeable value; or 
+wherein consists the real price of all commodities. 
+
+Secondly, what are the different parts of which this real price is 
+composed or made up. 
+
+And, lastly, what are the different circumstances which some- 
+times raise some or all of these different parts of price above, and 
+sometimes sink them below, their natural or ordinary rate; or, what 
+
+
+
+are the causes which sometimes hinder the market price, that is, 
+theactual price of commodities, from coinciding exactly with what 
+may be called their natural price. 
+
+I shall endeavour to explain, as fully and distinctly as I can, 
+those three subjects in the three following chapters, for which I 
+must very earnestly entreat both thepatienceand attention of the 
+reader: his patience, in order to examine a detail which may, per- 
+haps, in some places, appear unnecessarily tedious; and hisatten- 
+tion, in order to understand what may perhaps, after the fullest 
+explication which I am capable of giving it, appear still in some 
+degree obscure. I am always willing to run some hazard of being 
+tedious, in order to be sure that I am perspicuous; and, after tak- 
+ing the utmost pains that I can to be perspicuous, some obscurity 
+may still appear to remain upon a subject, in its own nature ex- 
+tremely abstracted. 
+
+
+
+30 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+CHAPTERV 
+
+OF THE REAL AND NOM INAL PRICE OF 
+COMMODITIES, OR OF THEIR PRICE IN 
+LABOUR, ANDTHEIR PRICE IN MONEY 
+
+Everyman is rich or poor according to the degree in which he 
+can afford to enjoy thenecessaries, conveniences, and amusements 
+of human life. But after thedivision of labour hasonce thoroughly 
+taken place, it is but a very small part of these with which a man's 
+own labour can supply him. Thefar greater part of them he must 
+derive from the labour of other people, and he must be rich or 
+poor according to the quantity of that labour which he can com- 
+mand, or which hecan afford to purchase. The valueof any com- 
+modity, therefore, to the person who possesses it, and who means 
+not to use or consume it himself, but to exchange it for other 
+commodities, is equal to the quantity of labour which it enables 
+him to purchase or command. Labour therefore, isthereal mea- 
+sure of the exchangeable value of all commodities. 
+
+Thereal price of every thing, what every thing really costs to the 
+man who wants to acquire it, is the toil and trouble of acquiring 
+it. What every thing is really worth to the man who has acquired 
+it and who wants to dispose of it, or exchange it for something 
+
+
+
+else, isthetoil and trouble which it can save to himself, and which 
+it can impose upon other people. W hat is bought with money, or 
+with goods, is purchased by labour, as much as what we acquire 
+by the toil of our own body. That money, or those goods, indeed, 
+save us this toil. They contain the value of a certain quantity of 
+labour, which we exchange for what is supposed at the time to 
+contain the value of an equal quantity. Labour was thefirst price, 
+the original purchase money that was paid for all things. It was 
+not by gold or by silver, but by labour, that all the wealth of the 
+world was originally purchased; and its value, to those who pos- 
+sess it, and who want to exchange it for some new productions, is 
+precisely equal to thequantity of labour which it can enablethem 
+to purchase or command. 
+
+Wealth, as M rHobbes says, is power. But the person who either 
+acquires, or succeeds to a great fortune, does not necessarily ac- 
+quire or succeed to any political power, either civil or military. H is 
+fortune may, perhaps, afford him the means of acquiring both; 
+but the mere possession of that fortune does not necessarily con- 
+vey to him either. The power which that possession immediately 
+and directly conveys to him, isthe power of purchasing a certain 
+command over all the labour, or over all the produce of labour 
+which isthen in themarket. H isfortuneisgreateror less, precisely 
+in proportion to theextent of this power, or to thequantity either 
+
+
+
+31 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+of other men's labour, or, whatisthesamething, of theproduceof 
+other men's labour, which it en ableshim to purchase or command. 
+The exchangeable value of every thing must always be precisely 
+equal to the extent of this power which it conveys to its owner. 
+
+But though labour be the real measure of theexchangeablevalue 
+of all commodities, it is not that by which their value is com- 
+monly estimated. It is often difficult to ascertain the proportion 
+between two different quantities of labour. Thetime spent in two 
+different sorts of work will not always alone determine this pro- 
+portion. The different degrees of hardship endured, and of inge- 
+nuity exercised, must likewise be taken into account. There may 
+be more labour in an hour's hard work, than in two hours easy 
+business; or in an hour's application to a trade which it cost ten 
+years labour to learn, than in a month's industry, at an ordinary 
+and obvious employment. But it is not easy to find any accurate 
+measure either of hardship or ingenuity. In exchanging, indeed, 
+the different productions of different sorts of labour for one an- 
+other, some allowance iscommonlymadefor both. Itisadjusted, 
+however, not by any accurate measure, but by the higgling and 
+bargaining of the market, according to that sort of rough equality 
+which, though not exact, is sufficient for carrying on the business 
+of common life. 
+
+Every commodity, besides, Is more frequently exchanged for, 
+
+
+
+and thereby compared with, other commodities, than with labour. 
+1 1 is more natural, therefore, to estimate its exchangeable value by 
+the quantity of some other commodity, than by that of the labour 
+which it can produce. The greater part of people, too, understand 
+better what is meant by a quantity of a particular commodity, 
+than by a quantity of labour. The one is a plain palpable object; 
+the other an abstract notion, which though it can be made suffi- 
+ciently intelligible, is not altogether so natural and obvious. 
+
+But when barter ceases, and money has become the common 
+instrument of commerce, every particular commodity is more fre- 
+quently exchanged for money than for any other commodity. T he 
+butcher seldom carries his beef or his mutton to the baker or the 
+brewer, in order to exchange them for bread or for beer; but he 
+carries them to the market, where he exchanges them for money, 
+and afterwards exchanges that money for bread and for beer. T he 
+quantity of money which hegetsfor them regulates, too, thequan- 
+tityof bread and beer which hecan afterwards purchase. Itismore 
+natural and obvious to him, therefore, to estimate their value by 
+thequantityof money, the commodity for which he immediately 
+exchanges them, than by that of bread and beer, the commodities 
+for which he can exchange them only by the intervention of an- 
+other commodity; and rather to say that hisbutcher'smeat isworth 
+three-pence or fourpence a-pound, than that it is worth three or 
+
+
+
+32 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+four poundsof bread, or three or four quarts of small beer. H ence 
+it comes to pass, that the exchangeable value of every commodity 
+is more frequently estimated by the quantity of money, than by 
+the quantity either of labour or of any other commodity which 
+can be had in exchange for it. 
+
+Gold and silver, however, like every other commodity, vary in 
+their value; are sometimes cheaper and sometimes dearer, some- 
+times of easier and sometimes of more difficult purchase. The 
+quantity of labour which any particular quantity of them can pur- 
+chase or command, or the quantity of other goods which it will 
+exchange for, depends always upon the fertility or barrenness of 
+the mines which happen to be known about the time when such 
+exchanges are made. The discovery of the abundant mines of 
+America, reduced, in the sixteenth century, the value of gold and 
+silver in Europe to about a third of what it had been before. As it 
+cost less labour to bring those metals from the mine to the mar- 
+ket, so, when they were brought thither, they could purchase or 
+command less labour; and this revolution in their value, though 
+perhaps thegreatest, isby no meanstheonlyoneof which history 
+gives someaccount. But asameasureof quantity, such asthenatural 
+foot, fathom, or handful, which is continually varying in its own 
+quantity, can never bean accurate measure of the quantity of other 
+things; so a commodity which is itself continually varying in its 
+
+
+
+own value, can never bean accurate measure of the valueof other 
+commodities. Equal quantities of labour, at all times and places, 
+may be said to be of equal value to the labourer. In his ordinary 
+state of health, strength, and spirits; in the ordinary degree of his 
+skill and dexterity, he must always lay down the same portion of 
+his ease, his liberty, and his happiness. The price which he pays 
+must always be the same, whatever may be the quantity of goods 
+which he receives in return for it. Of these, indeed, it may some- 
+times purchase a greater and sometimesa smaller quantity; but it 
+istheir value which varies, not that of the labour which purchases 
+them. At all times and places, that is dear which it is difficult to 
+comeat, or which itcostsmuch labour to acquire; and that cheap 
+which is to be had easily, or with very little labour. Labour alone, 
+therefore, never varying in its own value, isalonetheultimateand 
+real standard by which the value of all commodities can at all 
+times and places be estimated and compared. It istheir real price; 
+money istheir nominal price only. 
+
+But though equal quantities of labour are always of equal value 
+to the labourer, yet to the person who employs him they appear 
+sometimes to be of greater, and sometimes of smaller value. H e 
+purchases them sometimes with a greater, and sometimes with a 
+smaller quantity of goods, and to him the price of labour seemsto 
+vary likethat of all other things. It appears to him dear in theone 
+
+
+
+33 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+case, and cheap in the other. In reality, however, it is the goods 
+which are cheap in the one case, and dear in the other. 
+
+In this popular sense, therefore, labour, like commodities, may 
+be said to have a real and a nominal price. Its real price may be 
+said to consist in thequantity of the necessaries and conveniences 
+of life which are given for it; its nominal price, in the quantity of 
+money. The labourer is rich or poor, is well or ill rewarded, in 
+proportion to the real, not to the nominal price of his labour. 
+
+Thedistinction between the real andthenominal price of com- 
+modities and labour is not a matter of mere speculation, but may 
+sometimes be of considerable use in practice. The same real price 
+is always of the same value; but on account of the variationsin the 
+value of gold and silver, the same nominal price is sometimes of 
+very different values. W hen a landed estate, therefore, issold with 
+a reservation of a perpetual rent, if it is intended that this rent 
+should always be of the same value, it is of importance to the 
+family in whose favour it is reserved, that it should not consist in 
+a particular sum of money. Itsvaluewould inthiscasebeliableto 
+variations of two different kinds: first, to those which arise from 
+the different quantities of gold and silver which are contained at 
+different times in coin of the same denomination; and, secondly, 
+to those which arise from the different values of equal quantities 
+of gold and silver at different times. 
+
+
+
+P ri n ces an d soverei gn states h ave f req u en tl y f an ci ed th at th ey h ad 
+a temporary interest to diminish the quantity of pure metal con- 
+tained in their coins; but they seldom have fancied that they had 
+any to augment it. T he quantity of metal contained in the coins, I 
+believe of all nations, has accordingly been almost continually di- 
+minishing, and hardly ever augmenting. Such variations, therefore, 
+tend almost always to diminish thevalueof a money rent. 
+
+The discovery of the mines of America diminished the value of 
+gold and silver in Europe. Thisdiminution, it is commonly sup- 
+posed, though I apprehend without any certain proof, is still go- 
+ing on gradually, and is likely to continue to do so for a longtime. 
+Upon this supposition, therefore, such variations are more likely 
+to diminish than to augment the value of a money rent, even 
+though it should be stipulated to be paid, not in such a quantity 
+of coined money of such a denomination (in so many pounds 
+sterling, for example), but in so many ounces, either of pure silver, 
+or of silver of a certain standard. 
+
+Therents which have been reserved in corn, havepreserved their 
+valuemuch better than those which have been reserved in money, 
+even where thedenomination of thecoin hasnotbeen altered. By 
+the 18th of Elizabeth, it wasenacted, that athird of therent of all 
+college leases should be reserved in corn, to be paid either in kind, 
+or according to the current prices at the nearest public market. 
+
+
+
+34 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+The money arising from this corn rent, though originally but a 
+third of the whole, is, in the present times, according to Dr. 
+Blackstone, commonly near double of what arises from the other 
+two-thirds. The old money rents of colleges must, according to 
+this account, have sunk almost to a fourth part of their ancient 
+value, orareworth little more than afourth part of thecorn which 
+they were formerly worth. But since the reign of Philip and Mary, 
+the denomination of the English coin has undergone little or no 
+alteration, and the same number of pounds, shillings, and pence, 
+have contained very nearly the same quantity of pure silver. This 
+degradation, therefore, in thevalue of the money rents of colleges, 
+has arisen altogether from the degradation in the price of silver. 
+
+When the degradation in the value of silver is combined with 
+the diminution of the quantity of it contained in the coin of the 
+same denomination, the loss is frequently still greater. In Scot- 
+land, where the denomination of the coin has undergone much 
+greater alterationsthan iteverdid in England, and in France, where 
+it has undergone still greater than it ever did in Scotland, some 
+ancient rents, originally of considerable value, have, in this man- 
+ner, been reduced almost to nothing. 
+
+Equal quantities of labour will, at distant times, be purchased 
+more nearly with equal quantities of corn, the subsistence of the 
+labourer, than with equal quantities of gold and silver, or, per- 
+
+
+
+haps, of any other commodity. Equal quantities of corn, there- 
+fore, will, at distant times, be more nearly of the same real value, 
+or enable the possessor to purchase or command more nearly the 
+same quantity of the labour of other people. They will do this, I 
+say, more nearly than equal quantities of almost any other com- 
+modity; for even equal quantities of corn will not do it exactly. 
+The subsistence of the labourer, or the real price of labour, as I 
+shall endeavour to shew hereafter, is very different upon different 
+occasions; moreliberal in a society advancing to opulence, than in 
+onethat is standing still, and in onethat is standing still, than in 
+one that is going backwards. Every other commodity, however, 
+will, at any particular time, purchase a greater or smaller quantity 
+of labour, in proportion to the quantity of subsistence which it 
+can purchase at that time. A rent, therefore, reserved in corn, is 
+liable only to the variations in the quantity of labour which a 
+certain quantity of corn can purchase. But a rent reserved in any 
+other commodity is liable, not only to the variations in thequan- 
+tity of labour which any particular quantity of corn can purchase, 
+but to the variations in the quantity of corn which can be pur- 
+chased by any particular quantity of that commodity. 
+
+Though the real value of acorn rent, itisto be observed, how- 
+ever, varies much less from century to century than that of a money 
+rent, it varies much more from year to year. T he money price of 
+
+
+
+35 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+labour, as I shall endeavour to shew hereafter, does not fluctuate 
+from year to year with the money price of corn, but seems to be 
+everywhere accommodated, not to the temporary or occasional, 
+but to the average or ordinary price of that necessary of life. T he 
+average or ordinary price of corn, again is regulated, as I shall 
+likewise endeavour to shew hereafter, by the valueof silver, by the 
+richness or barrennessofthemines which supply the market with 
+that metal, or by the quantity of labour which must be employed, 
+and consequently of corn which must be consumed, in order to 
+bring any particular quantity of silver from the mineto the mar- 
+ket. Butthevalueof silver, though it sometimes varies greatly from 
+century to century, seldom varies much from year to year, but 
+frequently continues the same, or very nearly the same, for half a 
+century or a century together. The ordinary or average money 
+price of corn, therefore, may, during so long a period, continue 
+thesame, or very nearly thesame, too, and along with itthemoney 
+price of labour, provided, at least, the society continues, in other 
+respects, in the same, or nearly in the same, condition. In the 
+mean time, the temporary and occasional price of corn may fre- 
+quently be double one year of what it had been the year before, or 
+fluctuate, for example, from five-and-twenty to fifty shillings the 
+quarter. But when corn isat thelatter price, not onlythenominal, 
+butthereal valueof acorn rent, will bedoubleof whatitiswhen 
+
+
+
+at theformer, or will command doublethequantity either of labour, 
+or of the greater part of other commodities; the money price of 
+labour, and along with it that of most other things, continuing 
+the same during all these fluctuations. 
+
+Labour, therefore, it appears evidently, istheonly universal, as 
+well as the only accurate, measure of value, or the only standard 
+by which we can compare the values of different commodities, at 
+all times, and at all places. We cannot estimate, it is allowed, the 
+real value of different commodities from century to century by 
+the quantities of silver which were given for them. We cannot 
+estimate it from year to year by the quantities of corn. By the 
+quantities of labour, we can, with the greatest accuracy, estimate 
+it, both from century to century, and from year to year. From 
+century to century, corn is a better measure than silver, because, 
+from century to century, equal quantities of corn will command 
+the same quantity of labour more nearly than equal quantities of 
+silver. From year to year, on thecontrary, silver isa better measure 
+than corn, because equal quantities of it will more nearly com- 
+mand the same quantity of labour. 
+
+But though, in establishing perpetual rents, or even in letting 
+very long leases, it may be of use to distinguish between real and 
+nominal price; it is of none in buying and selling, the more com- 
+mon and ordinary transactions of human life. 
+
+
+
+36 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+Atthesametimeand place, thereal and thenominal priceof all 
+commodities are exactly in proportion to one another. The more 
+or less money you get for any commodity in the London market, 
+for example, the more or less labour it will at that time and place 
+enable you to purchase or command. Atthesametimeand place, 
+therefore, money is the exact measure of the real exchangeable 
+value of all commodities. It is so, however, atthesametimeand 
+place only. 
+
+T hough at distant places there isno regular proportion between 
+the real and the money price of commodities, yet the merchant 
+who carries goods from the one to the other, has nothing to con- 
+sider but the money price, or the difference between the quantity 
+of silver for which he buys them, and that for which he is likely to 
+sell them. Half an ounce of silver at Canton in China may com- 
+mand a greater quantity both of labour and of the necessaries and 
+conveniencies of life, than an ounce at London. A commodity, 
+therefore, which sells for half an ounce of silver at Canton, may 
+there be really dearer, of more real importance to the man who 
+possesses it there, than a commodity which sells for an ounce at 
+London is to the man who possesses it at London. If a London 
+merchant, however, can buy at C anton, for half an ounce of silver, 
+a commodity which hecan afterwards sell at London for an ounce, 
+he gains a hundred percent, by the bargain, just as much as if an 
+
+
+
+ounceof silver was at London exactly of thesamevalueasatCan- 
+ton. It is of no importance to him that half an ounceof silver at 
+Canton would have given him the command of more labour, and 
+of a greater quantity of the necessaries and conveniencies of life 
+than an ouncecan do at London. An ounce at London will always 
+give him the command of double the quantity of all these, which 
+half an ounce could have done there, and this is precisely what he 
+wants. 
+
+As it is the nominal or money priceof goods, therefore, which 
+finally determines the prudence or imprudence of all purchases 
+and sales, and thereby regulates almost thewholebusinessof com- 
+mon life in which price is concerned, we cannot wonder that it 
+should have been so much more attended to than the real price. 
+
+In such a work as this, however, it may sometimes be of use to 
+compare the different real values of a particular commodity at 
+different times and places, or the different degrees of power over 
+thelabourof other people which it may, upon different occasions, 
+have given to those who possessed it. We must in this case com- 
+pare, not so much the different quantities of silver for which it 
+was commonly sold, as the different quantities or labour which 
+those different quantities of silver could have purchased. But the 
+current prices of labour, at distant times and places, can scarce 
+ever be known with any degreeof exactness. Those of corn, though 
+
+
+
+37 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+they havein few places been regularly recorded, arein general better 
+known, and have been more frequently taken notice of by histori- 
+ans and other writers. We must generally, therefore, content our- 
+selves with them, not as beingalways exactlyin thesameproportion 
+as the current prices of labour, but as being the nearest approxima- 
+tion which can commonly behad to that proportion. I shall hereaf- 
+ter have occasion to makeseveral comparisonsof this kind. 
+
+In the progress of industry, commercial nations have found it 
+convenient to coin several different metals into money; gold for 
+larger payments, silver for purchases of moderate value, and cop- 
+per, or some other coarse metal, for thoseof still smaller consider- 
+ation, They have always, however, considered one of those metals 
+as more peculiarly the measure of value than any of the other two; 
+and thispref erenceseems generally to have been given to themetal 
+which they happen first to makeuseof as theinstrument of com- 
+merce. Having once begun to use it as their standard, which they 
+must have done when they had no other money, they have gener- 
+ally continued to do so even when the necessity was not thesame. 
+
+T he Romansaresaid to have had nothing but copper money till 
+within five years before the first Punic war (Pliny, lib. xxxiii. cap. 
+3), when they first began to coin silver. Copper, therefore, appears 
+to havecontinued always themeasure of valuein that republic. At 
+Rome all accounts appear to have been kept, and the value of all 
+
+
+
+estates to have been computed, either in asses or in sestertii. The 
+as was always the denomination of a copper coin. The word 
+sestertius signifies two asses and a half. T hough the sestertius, there- 
+fore, was originally a silver coin, its value was estimated in copper. 
+At Rome, one who owed a great deal of money was said to have a 
+great deal of other people's copper. 
+
+T he northern nations who established themselves upon the ru- 
+insoftheRoman empire, seem to have had silver money from the 
+first beginning of their settlements, and not to have known either 
+gold or copper coins for several ages thereafter. T here were silver 
+coins in England in the time of the Saxons; but there was little 
+gold coined till thetime of Edward III nor any copper till that of 
+James I. of Great Britain. In England, therefore, and for thesame 
+reason, I believe, in all other modern nations of Europe, all ac- 
+counts are kept, and the value of all goods and of all estates is 
+generally computed, in silver: and when we mean to express the 
+amount of a person's fortune, we seldom mention the number of 
+guineas, but the number of pounds sterling which we suppose 
+would be given for it. 
+
+riginally, in all countries, I believe, a legal tender of payment 
+could bemadeonly in thecoin of that metal which was peculiarly 
+considered as the standard or measure of value. In England, gold 
+was not considered as a legal tender for a long time after it was 
+
+
+
+38 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+coined into money. The proportion between the values of gold 
+and silver money was not fixed by any public law or proclama- 
+tion, but was left to be settled by the market. I f a debtor offered 
+payment in gold, the creditor might either reject such payment 
+altogether, or accept of it at such a valuation of the gold as he and 
+his debtor could agreeupon. Copper is not at present a legal ten- 
+der, except in the change of the smaller silver coins. 
+
+In this state of things, the distinction between the metal which 
+was thestandard, and that which wasnotthestandard, was some- 
+thing more than a nominal distinction. 
+
+In process of time, and as people became gradually more famil- 
+iar with the use of the different metals in coin, and consequently 
+better acquainted with the proportion between their respective 
+values, it has, in most countries, I believe, been found convenient 
+to ascertain this proportion, and to declare by a public law, that a 
+guinea, for example, of such a weight and fineness, should ex- 
+change for one-and-twenty shillings, or be a legal tender for a 
+debt of that amount. In this state of things, and during the con- 
+tinuanceof any oneregulated proportion of thiskind, thedistinc- 
+tion between the metal, which is the standard, and that which is 
+not the standard, becomes little more than a nominal distinction. 
+
+In consequence of any change, however, in this regulated pro- 
+portion, this distinction becomes, or at least seems to become, 
+
+
+
+something more than nominal again. If the regulated value of a 
+guinea, for example, was either reduced to twenty, or raised to 
+two-and-twenty shillings, all accounts being kept, and almost all 
+obligations for debt being expressed, in silver money, the greater 
+part of payments could in either case bemadewith thesamequan- 
+tity of silver money as before; but would require very different 
+quantities of gold money; a greater in the one case, and a smaller 
+in theother. Silver would appear to bemoreinvariablein its value 
+than gold. Silver would appear to measure the value of gold, and 
+gold would not appear to measure the valueofsilver.Thevalueof 
+gold would seem to depend upon the quantity of silver which it 
+would exchange for, and the value of silver would not seem to 
+depend upon the quantity of gold which it would exchange for. 
+This difference, however, would be altogether owing to the cus- 
+tom of keeping accounts, and of expressing theamount of all great 
+and small sums rather in silver than in gold money. ne of M r 
+Drummond's notes for five-and-twenty or fifty guineas would, 
+after an alteration of thiskind, bestill payablewith five-and-twenty 
+or fifty guineas, in thesamemanner as before. It would, after such 
+an alteration, be payablewith the same quantity of gold as before, 
+but with very different quantities of silver. I n the payment of such 
+a note, gold would appear to bemoreinvariablein itsvaluethan 
+silver. Gold would appear to measure thevalueof silver, and silver 
+
+
+
+39 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+would not appear to measure the value of gold. If the custom of 
+keeping accounts, and of expressing promissory-notes and other 
+obligations for money, in this manner should ever become gen- 
+eral, gold, and not silver, would be considered asthemetal which 
+was peculiarly the standard or measure of value. 
+
+In reality, duringthecontinuanceof any one regulated propor- 
+tion between the respective values of the different metals in coin, 
+the value of the most precious metal regulates the value of the 
+whole coin. Twelve copper pence contain half a pound avoirdu- 
+poisof copper, of not the best quality, which, before it iscoined, is 
+seldom worth seven-pencein silver. But as, bytheregulation, twelve 
+such pence are ordered to exchange for a shilling, they are in the 
+market considered as worth a shilling, and a shilling can at any 
+time be had for them. Even before thelate reformation ofthegold 
+coin of Great Britain, the gold, that part of it at least which circu- 
+lated in London and its neighbourhood, was in general less de- 
+graded below its standard weight than the greater part of the sil- 
+ver. ne- and -twenty worn and defaced shillings, however, were 
+considered asequivalenttoaguinea, which, perhaps, indeed, was 
+worn and defaced too, but seldom so much so. The late regula- 
+tions have brought the gold coin as near, perhaps, to its standard 
+weight asit is possibleto bring thecurrent coin of any nation; and 
+the order to receive no gold at the public offices but by weight, is 
+
+
+
+likely to preserve it so, as long as that order is enforced. The silver 
+coin still continuesin thesameworn and degraded state as before 
+the reformation of the cold coin. In the market, however, one- 
+and-twenty shillings of this degraded silver coin are still consid- 
+ered as worth a guinea of this excellent gold coin. 
+
+The reformation ofthegold coin has evidently raised the value 
+of the silver coin which can be exchanged for it. 
+
+I n the English mint, a pound weight of gold iscoined into forty- 
+four guineas and ahalf, which at one-and-twentyshillingstheguinea, 
+isequal to forty-six poundsfourteen shillings and sixpence. An ounce 
+of such gold coin, therefore, is worth £ 3:17:10V2 in silver. In En- 
+gland, no duty or seignorage is paid upon the coinage, and hewho 
+carries a pound weight or an ounce weight of standard gold bullion 
+tothemint, getsbackapound weight or an ounceweightof gold in 
+coin, without any deduction. Three poundsseventeen shillings and 
+tenpence halfpenny an ounce, therefore, issaid to bethemint price 
+of gold in England, or the quantity of gold coin which the mint 
+gives in return for standard gold bullion. 
+
+Before the reformation of the gold coin, the price of standard 
+gold bullion in the market had, for many years, been upwards of 
+£3:18s. sometimes £ 3:19s, and very frequently £4 an ounce; that 
+sum, it is probable, in the worn and degraded gold coin, seldom 
+containing more than an ounce of standard gold. Sincetherefor- 
+
+
+
+40 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+mation of thegold coin, themarket priceof standard gold bullion 
+seldom exceeds £ 3:17:7 an ounce. Before the reformation of the 
+gold coin, the market price was always more or less above the 
+mint price. Sincethat reformation, themarket pricehas been con- 
+stantly below the mint price. But that market price is the same 
+whether it is paid in gold or in silver coin. The late reformation of 
+thegold coin, therefore, has raised not only thevalue of thegold 
+coin, but likewise that of the silver coin in proportion to gold 
+bullion, and probably, too, in proportion to all other commodi- 
+ties; though the price of the greater part of other commodities 
+being influenced by so many other causes, therisein thevalueof 
+either gold or silver coin in proportion to them may not be so 
+distinct and sensible. 
+
+In the English mint, a pound weight of standard silver bullion 
+iscoined into sixty-two shillings, containing, in thesamemanner, 
+a pound weight of standard silver. Five shillings and twopence an 
+ounce, therefore, is said to be the mint priceof silver in England, 
+or the quantity of silver coin which the mint gives in return for 
+standard silver bullion. Before the reformation of thegold coin, 
+the market price of standard silver bullion was, upon different 
+occasions, five shillings and fourpence, five shillings and fivepence, 
+five shillings and sixpence, five shillings and sevenpence, and very 
+often five shillings and eightpencean ounce. Five shillings and 
+
+
+
+sevenpence, however, seemsto have been themost common price. 
+Since the reformation of thegold coin, themarket priceof stan- 
+dard silver bullion has fallen occasionally to five shillings and 
+threepence, five shillings and fourpence, and five shillings and 
+fivepence an ounce, which last price it has scarce ever exceeded. 
+Though themarket priceof silver bullion has fallen considerably 
+since the reformation of thegold coin, it has not fallen so low as 
+the mint price. 
+
+In the proportion between the different metals in the English 
+coin, as copper is rated very much above its real value, so silver is 
+rated somewhat below it. In themarket of Europe, in the French 
+coin and in the Dutch coin, an ounce of fine gold exchanges for 
+about fourteen ouncesoffinesilver. In theEnglish coin, it exchanges 
+for about fifteen ounces, that is, for more silver than it is worth, 
+according to thecommon estimation of Europe. Butasthepriceof 
+copper in bars is not, even in England, raised by the high priceof 
+copper in English coin, so the price of silver in bullion is not sunk 
+by the low rate of silver in English coin. Silver in bullion still pre- 
+serves itsproper proportion to gold, for the same reason that copper 
+in bars preserves its proper proportion to silver. 
+
+Upon the reformation of thesilver coin, in thereign of William 
+III., the price of silver bullion still continued to be somewhat above 
+the mint price. M r Locke imputed this high price to the permis- 
+
+
+
+41 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+sion of exporting silver bullion, and to the prohibition of export- 
+ing silver coin. Thispermission of exporting, hesaid, rendered the 
+demand for silver bullion greater than the demand for silver coin. 
+But the number of people who want silver coin for the common 
+uses of buying and selling at home, is surely much greater than 
+that of those who want silver bullion either for the use of exporta- 
+tion or for any other use. There subsists at present a like permis- 
+sion of exporting gold bullion, and alikeprohibition of exporting 
+gold coin; and yet the price of gold bullion has fallen below the 
+mint price. But in the English coin, silver was then, in thesame 
+manner as now, under-rated in proportion to gold; and the gold 
+coin (which at that time, too, was not supposed to require any 
+reformation) regulated then, as well as now, the real value of the 
+whole coin. As the reformation of the silver coin did not then 
+reduce the price of silver bullion to the mint price, it is not very 
+probablethat a like reformation will do so now. 
+
+Were the silver coin brought back as near to its standard weight 
+as thegold, a guinea, it isprobable, would, according to thepresent 
+proportion, exchange for more silver in coin than it would pur- 
+chasein bullion.Thesilver coin containing itsfull standard weight, 
+there would in this case, be a profit in melting it down, in order, 
+first to sell the bullion for gold coin, and after wards to exchange 
+thisgold coin for silver coin, to be melted down in thesame man- 
+
+
+
+ner. Some alteration in the present proportion seems to be the 
+only method of preventing this i neon veniency. 
+
+Theinconveniency, perhaps, would be less, if silver was rated in 
+the coin as much above its proper proportion to gold as it is at 
+present rated below it, provided it was at the same time enacted, 
+that silver should not bea legal tender for more than thechangeof 
+a guinea, in the same manner as copper is not a legal tender for 
+more than thechangeof a shilling. No creditor could, inthiscase, 
+be cheated in consequence of the high valuation of silver in coin; 
+as no creditor can at present be cheated in consequence of the 
+high valuation of copper. The bankers only would suffer by this 
+regulation. W hen a run comes upon them, they sometimes en- 
+deavour to gain time, by paying in sixpences, and they would be 
+precluded by this regulation from this discreditable method of 
+evading immediate payment. They would be obliged, in conse- 
+quence, to keep at all times in their coffers a greater quantity of 
+cash than at present; and though this might, no doubt, be a con- 
+siderable inconveniency to them, it would, at the same time, bea 
+considerable security to their creditors. 
+
+T hree pounds seventeen shillings and tenpence halfpenny (the 
+mint priceof gold) certainly does not contain, even in our present 
+excellent gold coin, more than an ounce of standard gold, and it 
+may be thought, therefore, should not purchase more standard 
+
+
+
+42 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+bullion. But gold in coin is more convenient than gold in bullion; 
+and though, in England, the coinage is free, yetthegold which is 
+carried in bullion to the mint, can seldom be returned in coin to 
+theowner till after a delay of several weeks. In thepresent hurry of 
+themint, it could not be returned till after a delay of several months. 
+This delay is equivalent to a small duty, and renders gold in coin 
+somewhat more valuable than an equal quantity of gold in bul- 
+lion. If, in theEnglish coin, silver was rated according to itsproper 
+proportion to gold, the price of silver bullion would probably fall 
+below themint price, even without any reformation of the silver 
+coin; the value even of the present worn and defaced silver coin 
+being regulated by thevalueoftheexcellent gold coin for which it 
+can be changed. 
+
+A small seignorageor duty upon the coinage of both gold and 
+silver, would probably increase still more the superiority of those 
+metals in coin above an equal quantity of either of them in bul- 
+lion. The coinage would, in this case, increase the value of the 
+metal coined in proportion to theextent of thissmall duty, for the 
+same reason that the fashion increases the value of plate in pro- 
+portion tothepriceof that fashion. The superiority of coin above 
+bullion would prevent the melting down of the coin, and would 
+discourage its exportation. If, upon any public exigency, it should 
+become necessary to export the coin, the greater part of it would 
+
+
+
+soon return again, of itsown accord. Abroad, it could sell only for 
+its weight in bullion. At home, it would buy more than that weight. 
+Therewould bea profit, therefore, in bringing it home again. In 
+France, a seignorageof about eight per cent, isimposed upon the 
+coinage, and the French coin, when exported, is said to return 
+home again, of itsown accord. 
+
+The occasional fluctuations in the market price of gold and sil- 
+ver bullion arise from the same causes as the like fluctuations in 
+that of all other commodities. T he frequent loss of those metals 
+from various accidents by sea and by land, the continual waste of 
+them in gilding and plating, in lace and embroidery, in the wear 
+and tear of coin, and in that of plate, require, in all countries 
+which possess no mines of their own, a continual importation, in 
+order to repair this loss and this waste. The merchant importers, 
+like all other merchants, we may believe, endeavour, as well as 
+they can, to suit their occasional importationsto what they judge 
+is likely to be the immediate demand. With all their attention, 
+however, they sometimes overdo the business, and sometimes 
+underdo it. W hen they import morebullion than is wanted, rather 
+than incur therisk and troubleof exporting it again, they aresome- 
+times willing to sell a part of it for something less than the ordi- 
+nary or average price. W hen, on the other hand, they import less 
+than iswanted, they get somethingmore than thisprice. But when, 
+
+
+
+43 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+under all those occasional fluctuations, the market price either of 
+gold or silver bullion continues for several years together steadily 
+and constantly, either more or less above, or more or less below 
+the mint price, we may be assured that this steady and constant, 
+either superiority or inferiority of price, istheeffect of something 
+in the state of the coin, which, at that time, renders a certain quan- 
+tity of coin either of more value or of less value than the precise 
+quantity of bullion which it ought to contain. T heconstancy and 
+steadiness of the effect supposes a proportionable constancy and 
+steadiness in the cause. 
+
+The money of any particular country is, at any particular time 
+and place, more or less an accurate measure or value, according as 
+the current coin ismoreor less exactly agreeableto its standard, or 
+contains more or less exactly the precise quantity of pure gold or 
+pure silver which it ought to contain. If in England, for example, 
+forty-four guineas and a half contained exactly a pound weight of 
+standard gold, or eleven ounces of fine gold, and one ounce of 
+alloy, the gold coin of England would be as accurate a measure of 
+the actual value of goods at any particular time and place as the 
+nature of the thing would admit. But if, by rubbing and wearing, 
+forty-four guineas and a half generally contain less than a pound 
+weight of standard gold, the diminution, however, being greater 
+in some pieces than in others, the measure of value comes to be 
+
+
+
+liable to the same sort of uncertainty to which all other weights 
+and measures are commonly exposed. As it rarely happens that 
+these are exactly agreeableto their standard, the merchant adjusts 
+the price of his goods as well as he can, not to what those weights 
+and measures ought to be, but to what, upon an average, hefinds, 
+by experience, they actually are. In consequence of alikedisorder 
+in the coin, the price of goods comes, in the same manner, to be 
+adjusted, not to the quantity of pure gold or silver which the coin 
+ought to contain, but to that which, upon an average, itisfound, 
+by experience, it actually does contain. 
+
+By the money price of goods, it is to be observed, I understand 
+always the quantity of pure gold or silver for which they are sold, 
+without any regard to the denomination of the coin. Six shillings 
+and eight pence, for example, in thetimeof Edward I., I consider 
+as thesamemoney price with a pound sterling in the present times, 
+because it contained, as nearly as we can judge, the same quantity 
+of pure silver. 
+
+
+
+44 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+CHAPTERVI 
+
+OF THE COMPONENT PART OF THE 
+PRICEOFCOMMODITIES 
+
+In that early and rude state of society which precedes both the 
+accumulation of stock and the appropriation of land, the propor- 
+tion between the quantities of labour necessary for acquiring dif- 
+ferent objects, seemsto be theonly circumstance which can afford 
+any rule for exchanging them for one another. I f among a nation 
+of hunters, for example, it usually costs twice the labour to kill a 
+beaver which it does to kill a deer, one beaver should naturally 
+exchange for or be worth two deer. It is natural that what is usu- 
+ally theproduce of two daysor two hourslabour, should beworth 
+double of what is usually the produce of one day's or one hour's 
+labour. 
+
+If theonespecies of labour should be more severe than theother, 
+someallowancewill naturally be madeforthissuperior hardship; 
+and the produce of one hour's labour in the one way may fre- 
+quently exchange for that of two hour's labour in theother. 
+
+Orif the one species of labour requires an uncommon degreeof 
+dexterity and ingenuity, the esteem which men have for such tal- 
+ents, will naturally giveavalueto their produce, superior to what 
+
+
+
+would be due to the time employed about it. Such talents can 
+seldom be acquired but in consequence of long application, and 
+the superior value of their produce may frequently be no more 
+than a reasonable compensation for the time and labour which 
+must be spent in acquiring them. In the advanced state of society, 
+allowances of this kind, for superior hardship and superior skill, 
+arecommonly madein thewagesof labour; and something of the 
+same kind must probably have taken placein its earliest and rud- 
+est period. 
+
+I n this state of things, the whole produce of labour belongs to 
+the labourer; and the quantity of labour commonly employed in 
+acquiring or producing any commodity, is the only circumstance 
+which can regulate the quantity of labour which it ought com- 
+monly to purchase, command, or exchange for. 
+
+As soon as stock has accumulated in the hands of particular 
+persons, some of them will naturally employ it in setting to work 
+industrious people, whom they will supply with materials and 
+subsistence, in order to make a profit by the sale of their work, or 
+by what their labour adds to the value of the materials. In ex- 
+changing the complete manufacture either for money, for labour, 
+or for other goods, over and above what may be sufficient to pay 
+the price of the materials, and the wages of the workmen, some- 
+thing must be given for the profits of the undertaker of the work, 
+
+
+
+45 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+who hazards his stock in thisadventureThe value which thework- 
+men add to the materials, therefore, resolves itself in this case into 
+two parts, of which theone pays their wages, theothertheprofitsof 
+their employer upon thewholestock of materialsand wages which 
+he advanced. He could have no interest to employ them, unless he 
+expected from thesaleof their work something more than what was 
+sufficient to replace his stock to him; and he could have no interest 
+to employ a great stock rather than a small one, unless his profits 
+were to bear some proportion to theextent of hisstock. 
+
+T he profits of stock, it may perhaps be thought, are only a dif- 
+ferent namefor the wages of a particular sort of labour, the labour 
+of inspection and direction. T hey are, however, altogether differ- 
+ent, are regulated by quite different principles, and bear no pro- 
+portion to the quantity, the hardship, or theingenuity of thissup- 
+posed labour of inspection and direction. They are regulated alto- 
+gether by the value of the stock employed, and aregreater or smaller 
+in proportion to the extent of this stock. Let us suppose, for ex- 
+ample, that in some particular place, where the common annual 
+profits of manufacturing stock are ten per cent, there are two dif- 
+ferent manufactures, in each of which twenty workmen are em- 
+ployed, at the rate of fifteen pounds a year each, or at the expense 
+of three hundred a-year in each manufactory. Let ussuppose, too, 
+thatthecoarsematerialsannuallywroughtupintheonecostonly 
+
+
+
+seven hundred pounds, whilethefiner materialsin theother cost 
+
+seven thousand. Thecapital annually employed in theonewill, in 
+thiscase, amount only to onethousand pounds; whereas that em- 
+ployed in theother will amount to seven thousand three hundred 
+pounds. At the rate of ten per cent, therefore, the undertaker of 
+the one will expect a yearly profit of about one hundred pounds 
+only; whilethat of theother will expect about seven hundred and 
+thirty pounds. But though their profits are so very different, their 
+labour of inspection and direction may be either altogether or 
+very nearly the same. In manygreat works, almost thewholelabour 
+of thiskind iscommitted to someprincipal clerk. H iswages prop- 
+erly express the value of this labour of inspection and direction. 
+Though in settling them some regard is had commonly, not only 
+to his labour and skill, but to the trust which is reposed in him, 
+yet they never bear any regular proportion to thecapital of which 
+he oversees the management; and theowner of thiscapital, though 
+he is thus discharged of almost all labour, still expects that his 
+profit should bear a regular proportion to his capital. In the price 
+of commodities, therefore, the profits of stock constitute a com- 
+ponent part altogether different from the wages of labour, and 
+regulated by quite different principles. 
+
+I n this state of things, the whole produce of labour does not 
+al ways bd on g to the labourer. Hemustin most cases share it with 
+
+
+
+46 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+the owner of the stock which employs him. N either is the quan- 
+tity of labour commonly employed in acquiring or producing any 
+commodity the only circumstance which can regulate the quan- 
+tity which it ought commonly to purchase, command or exchange 
+for. An additional quantity itisevident, mustbeduefortheprof- 
+itsof the stock which advanced thewagesand furnished themate- 
+rialsof that labour. 
+
+Assoon astheland of any country hasall become private prop- 
+erty the landlords, like all other men, love to reap where they 
+never sowed, and demand a rent even for its natural produce. The 
+wood of the forest, the grass of the field, and all the natural fruits 
+of the earth, which, when land was in common, cost the labourer 
+only thetroubleof gathering them, come, even to him, to have an 
+additional price fixed upon them. H e must then pay for the li- 
+cence to gather them, and must give up to the landlord a portion 
+of what his labour either collects or produces. This portion, or, 
+what comes to the same thing, the price of this portion, consti- 
+tutes the rent of land, and in the price of the greater part of com- 
+modities, makes a third component part. 
+
+The real value of all the different component parts of price, it 
+must be observed, is measured by the quantity of labour which 
+they can, each of them, purchase or command. Labour measures 
+the value, not only of that part of price which resolves itself into 
+
+
+
+labour, but of that which resolves itself into rent, and of that which 
+resolves itself into profit. 
+
+I n every society, the price of every commodity finally resolves 
+itself into some one or other, or all of those three parts; and in 
+every improved society, all the three enter, more or less, ascompo- 
+nent parts, into the price of the far greater part of commodities. 
+
+I n the price of corn, for example, one part pays the rent of the 
+landlord, another pays the wages or mai ntenance of the labourers 
+and labouring cattle employed in producing it, and thethird pays 
+the profit of the farmer. These three parts seem either immedi- 
+ately or ultimately to make up the whole price of corn. A fourth 
+part, it may perhapsbe thought isnecessary for replacing thestock 
+of thefarmer, or for compensating the wear and tear of his labouring 
+cattle, and other instruments of husbandry. But it must be con- 
+sidered, that the price of any instrument of husbandry, such as a 
+labouring horse, is itself made up of the same time parts; therent 
+of the land upon which he is reared, the labour of tending and 
+rearing him, and the profits of thefarmer, who advances both the 
+rentof thisland, and thewagesof thislabour.Though thepriceof 
+thecorn, therefore, may pay the price as well as the maintenance 
+ofthehorse, thewholepricestill resolves itself, either immediately 
+or ultimately, into the same three parts of rent, labour, and profit. 
+
+I n the price of flour or meal, we must add to the price of the 
+
+
+
+47 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+corn, the prof its of the mi Her, and the wages of his servants; in the 
+price of bread, the profits of the baker, and the wages of his ser- 
+vants; and in theprice of both, thelabour of transporting the corn 
+from the house of the farmer to that of the miller, and from that 
+of the mil ler to that of the baker, together with the profits of those 
+who advance the wages of that labour. 
+
+T he price of flax resolves itself into the same three parts as that 
+of corn. In the price of linen we must add to this price the wages 
+of the flax-dresser, of the spinner, of the weaver, of the bleacher, 
+etc. together with the profits of their respective employers. 
+
+As any particular commodity comes to be more manufactured, 
+that part of the price which resolves itself into wages and profit, 
+comes to be greater in proportion to that which resolves itself into 
+rent. I n the progress of the manufacture, not only the number of 
+profits increase, but every subsequent profit is greater than the 
+foregoing; because the capital from which it is derived must al- 
+ways be greater. The capital which employs the weavers, for ex- 
+ample, must be greater than that which employs thespinners; be- 
+cause it not only replaces that capital with its profits, but pays, 
+besides, the wages of the weavers: and theprofitsmust always bear 
+some proportion to the capital. 
+
+In the most improved societies, however, there are always a few 
+commodities of which the price resolves itself into two parts only 
+
+
+
+the wages of labour, and the profits of stock; and a still smaller 
+number, in which it consists altogether in the wages of labour. In 
+the price of sea-fish, for example, one part pays the labour of the 
+fisherman, and theother the profits of thecapital employed in the 
+fishery. Rent very seldom makes any part of it, though it does 
+sometimes, asl shall shew hereafter. Itisotherwise, at least through 
+thegreater part of Europe, in river fisheries. A salmon fishery pays 
+a rent; and rent, though it cannot well be called the rent of land, 
+makes a part of the price of a salmon, as well as wares and profit. 
+In some parts of Scotland, a few poor people make a trade of 
+gathering, along the sea-shore, those little variegated stones com- 
+monly known by the name of Scotch pebbles. The price which is 
+paid to them by the stone-cutter, is altogether the wages of their 
+labour; neither rent nor profit makes an part of it. 
+
+But the whole price of any commodity must still finally resolve 
+itself into someoneor other or all of those three parts; as whatever 
+part of it remainsafter paying therent of theland, and the priceof 
+the whole labour employed in raising, manufacturing, and bring- 
+ing it to market, must necessarily be profit to somebody. 
+
+As the price or exchangeable value of every particular commod- 
+ity, taken separately, resolves itself into someoneor other, or all of 
+those three parts; so that of all the commodities which compose 
+the whole annual produce of the labour of every country, taken 
+
+
+
+48 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+complexly, must resolve itself into the same three parts, and be 
+parcelled out among different inhabitants of thecountry, either as 
+the wages of their labour, the profits of their stock, or the rent of 
+their land. The wholeof what isannually either collected or pro- 
+duced by the labour of every society, or, what comes to the same 
+thing, the whole price of it, is in this manner originally distrib- 
+uted among some of its different members. Wages, profit, and 
+rent, are the three original sources of all revenue, as well as of all 
+exchangeable value. All other revenue is ultimately derived from 
+some one or other of these. 
+
+W hoever derives his revenuefrom afund which ishisown, must 
+draw it either from his labour, from his stock, or from his land. 
+The revenue derived from labour iscalled wages; that derived from 
+stock, by the person who manages or employs it, is called profit; 
+that derived from it by the person who does not employ it him- 
+self, but lends it to another, is called the interest or the use of 
+money. It is the compensation which the borrower pays to the 
+lender, for the profit which he has an opportunity of making by 
+the use of the money. Part of that profit naturally belongs to the 
+borrower, who runstherisk and takes thetroubleof employing it, 
+and part to the lender, who affords him the opportunity of mak- 
+ing this profit. T he interest of money is always a derivative rev- 
+enue, which, if it is not paid from the profit which is made by the 
+
+
+
+use of the money, must be paid from some other source of rev- 
+enue, unless perhaps the borrower is a spendthrift, who contracts 
+a second debt in order to pay the interest of the first. The revenue 
+which proceeds altogether from land, iscalled rent, and belongs 
+to the landlord. T he revenue of the farmer is derived partly from 
+his labour, and partly from his stock. To him, land is only the 
+instrument which enables him to earn the wages of this labour, 
+and to make the profits of this stock. All taxes, and all the revenue 
+which isfounded upon them, all salaries, pensions, and annuities 
+of every kind, are ultimately derived from some one or other of 
+those three original sources of revenue, and are paid either imme- 
+diately or mediately from the wages of labour, the profits of stock, 
+or the rent of land. 
+
+W hen those three different sorts of revenue belong to different 
+persons, they are readily distinguished; but when they belong to 
+the same, they are sometimes confounded with one another, at 
+least in common language. 
+
+A gentleman who farms a part of his own estate, after paying 
+the expense of cultivation, should gain both the rent of the land- 
+lord and the profit of the farmer. H e is apt to denominate, how- 
+ever, his whole gain, profit, and thus confounds rent with profit, 
+at least in common language. T he greater part of our N orth Ameri- 
+can and West Indian planters areinthissituation. They farm, the 
+
+
+
+49 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+greater part of them, their own estates: and accordingly we sel- 
+dom hear of the rent of a plantation, but frequently of its profit. 
+
+Common farmers seldom employ any overseer to direct the gen- 
+eral operations of thefarm. They generally, too, work a good deal 
+with their own hands, as ploughmen, harrowers, etc. What re- 
+mains of the crop, after paying the rent, therefore, should not 
+only replace to them their stock employed in cultivation, together 
+with its ordinary prof its, but pay them the wages which aredueto 
+them, both as labourers and overseers. Whatever remains, how- 
+ever, after paying the rent and keeping up thestock, iscalled profit. 
+But wages evidently makea part of it. T hefarmer, by saving these 
+wages, must necessarily gain them. Wages, therefore, are in this 
+case confounded with profit. 
+
+An independent manufacturer, who has stock enough both to 
+purchase materials, and to maintain himself till he can carry his 
+work to market, should gain both the wages of a journeyman who 
+works under a master, and the profit which that master makes by 
+the sale of that journeyman's work. H is whole gains, however, are 
+commonly called profit, and wages are, in this case, too, con- 
+founded with profit. 
+
+A gardener who cultivates his own garden with his own hands, 
+unites in his own person the three different characters, of land- 
+lord, farmer, and labourer. H isproduce, therefore, should pay him 
+
+
+
+the rent of the first, the profit of the second, and the wages of the 
+third. The whole, however, is commonly considered astheearn- 
+ingsof hislabour. Both rent and profit are, in thiscase, confounded 
+with wages. 
+
+Asinacivilized country there arebut few commodities of which 
+the exchangeable value arises from labour only, rent and profit 
+contributing largely to that of the far greater part of them, so the 
+annual produce of its labour will always be sufficient to purchase 
+or command a much greater quantity of labour than what was 
+employed in raising, preparing, and bringing that produce to 
+market. If thesociety were annuallyto employ all thelabour which 
+it can annually purchase, asthequantity of labour would increase 
+greatly every year, so the produce of every succeeding year would 
+be of vastly greater value than that of the foregoing. But there is 
+no country in which the whole annual produce is employed in 
+maintaining the industrious. T he idleeverywhereconsumea great 
+part of it; and, according to the different proportions in which it 
+is annually divided between those two different orders of people, 
+its ordinary or average value must either annually increase or di- 
+minish, or continue the same from oneyear to another. 
+
+
+
+50 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII 
+
+OFTHE NATURAL AND MARKET PRICE 
+OFCOMMODITIES 
+
+There is in every society or neighbourhood an ordinary or aver- 
+age rate, both of wages and profit, in every different employment 
+of labour and stock. This rate is naturally regulated, as I shall shew 
+hereafter, partly by the general circumstances of the society, their 
+richesor poverty, their advancing, stationary, or declining condi- 
+tion, and partly by the particular nature of each employment. 
+
+Thereislikewisein every society or neighbourhood an ordinary 
+or average rate of rent, which is regulated, too, as I shall shew 
+hereafter, partly by the general circumstances of the society or 
+neighbourhood in which the land is situated, and partly by the 
+natural or improved fertility of the land. 
+
+T hese ordinary or average rates may be called the natural rates 
+of wages, profit and rent, at the time and place in which they 
+commonly prevail. 
+
+W hen thepriceof any commodity is neither more nor less than 
+what is sufficient to pay the rent of the land, the wages of the 
+labour, and the profits of the stock employed in raising, prepar- 
+ing, and bringing it to market, according to their natural rates, the 
+
+
+
+commodity is then sold for what may be called its natural price. 
+
+T he commodity is then sold precisely for what it is worth, or for 
+what it really costs the person who brings it to market; for though, 
+in common language, what is called the prime cost of any com- 
+modity does not comprehend the profit of the person who isto sell 
+it again, yet, if he sells it at a price which does not allow him the 
+ordinary rate of profit in his neighbourhood, he is evidently a loser 
+by the trade; since, by employing his stock in some other way, he 
+might have made that profit. Hisprofit, besides, is his revenue, the 
+proper fund of his subsistence. As, while he is preparing and bring- 
+ing the goods to market, he advances to his workmen their wages, 
+or their subsistence; so headvancesto himself, in the same manner, 
+his own subsistence, which is generally suitable to the profit which 
+he may reasonably expect from the sale of his goods. U nless they 
+yield him this profit, therefore, they do not repay him what they 
+may very properly be said to have really cost him. 
+
+Though the price, therefore, which leaves him this profit, is not 
+always the lowest at which a dealer may sometimes sell hisgoods, 
+it is the lowest at which he is likely to sell them for any consider- 
+able time; at least where there is perfect liberty, or where he may 
+ch an ge h i s trad e as often as h e pi eases. 
+
+The actual price at which any commodity is commonly sold, is 
+called its market price. It may either be above, or below, or exactly 
+
+
+
+51 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+the same with its natural price. 
+
+T he market priceof every particular commodity is regulated by 
+the proportion between the quantity which isactually brought to 
+market, and the demand of those who are willing to pay the natu- 
+ral priceof thecommodity or the whole value of the rent, labour, 
+and profit, which must be paid in order to bring it thither. Such 
+people may be called the effectual demanders, and their demand 
+the effectual demand; since it maybe sufficient to effectuate the 
+bringing of the commodity to market. It is different from the ab- 
+solute demand. A very poor man may be said, in some sense, to 
+havea demand for a coach and six; he might liketohaveit; but his 
+demand is not an effectual demand, as the commodity can never 
+be brought to market in order to satisfy it. 
+
+W hen thequantity of any commodity which isbroughtto mar- 
+ket fallsshort of theeffectual demand, all thosewho are willing to 
+paythewholevalueof therent, wages, and profit, which must be 
+paid in order to bring it thither, cannot be supplied with thequan- 
+tity which they want. Rather than want it altogether, someof them 
+will be willing to give more. A competition will immediately be- 
+gin among them, and themarket price will risemoreor less above 
+the natural price, according as either the greatness of the defi- 
+ciency, or the wealth and wanton luxury of the competitors, hap- 
+pen to animate more or less the eagerness of the competition. 
+
+
+
+Among competitorsof equal wealth and luxury, thesamedefici en cy 
+will generally occasion a more or less eager competition, according 
+as the acquisition of the commodity happens to be of more or less 
+importance to them. H encethe exorbitant priceof the necessaries 
+of life during the blockade of a town, or in a famine. 
+
+When thequantity brought to market exceeds the effectual de- 
+mand, it cannot be all sold to those who are willing to pay the 
+whole value of therent, wages, and profit, which must be paid in 
+order to bri ng it thither. Some part must be sold to those who are 
+willing to pay less, and the low price which they give for it must 
+reduce the price of the whole. The market price will sink more or 
+less below the natural price, according as the greatness of the ex- 
+cess increases more or less the competition of the sellers, or ac- 
+cording as it happens to be more or less important to them to get 
+immediately rid of the commodity. The same excess in the impor- 
+tation of perishable, will occasion a much greater competition than 
+in that of durablecommodities; in the importation of oranges, for 
+example, than in that of old iron. 
+
+When thequantity brought to market is just sufficient to sup- 
+ply theeffectual demand, and no more, themarket price naturally 
+comes to be either exactly, or as nearly as can be judged of, the 
+same with the natural price. T he whole quantity upon hand can 
+be disposed of for this price, and can not be disposed of for more. 
+
+
+
+52 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+Thecompetition of thedifferent dealers obliges them all to accept 
+of this price, but does not oblige them to accept of less. 
+
+T he quantity of every commodity brought to market naturally 
+suits itself to the effectual demand. It is the interest of all those 
+who employ their land, labour, or stock, in bringing any com- 
+modity to market, that thequantity never should exceed theeffec- 
+tual demand; and it isthe interest of all other peoplethat it never 
+should fall short of that demand. 
+
+If at any time it exceeds the effectual demand, someof thecom- 
+ponent parts of itspricemustbepaid below their natural rate. If it 
+isrent, theinterest of thelandlordswill immediately prompt them 
+to withdraw a part of their land; and if it is wages or profit, the 
+interest of the labourers in the one case, and of their employers in 
+the other, will prompt them to withdraw a part of their labour or 
+stock, from this employment. The quantity brought to market 
+will soon be no more than sufficient to supply the effectual de- 
+mand. All thedifferent parts of its price will rise to their natural 
+rate, and the whole price to its natural price. 
+
+If, on the contrary, the quantity brought to market should at 
+any time fall short of the effectual demand, some of the compo- 
+nent parts of its price must rise above their natural rate. If it is 
+rent, the interest of all other landlordswill naturally prompt them 
+to prepare more land for the raising of this commodity; if it is 
+
+
+
+wages or profit, the interest of all other labourers and dealers will 
+soon prompt them to employ more labour and stock in preparing 
+and bringing it to market. Thequantity broughtthither will soon 
+besufficient to supply theeffectual demand. All thedifferent parts 
+of its price will soon sink to their natural rate, and the whole price 
+to its natural price. 
+
+T he natural price, therefore, is, as it were, the central price, to 
+which the prices of all commodities are continually gravitating. 
+D ifferent accidents may sometimes keep them suspended a good 
+deal above it, and sometimes force them down even somewhat 
+below it. But whatever may be the obstacles which hinder them 
+from settling in this centre of repose and continuance, they are 
+constantly tending towards it. 
+
+T he whole quantity of industry annually employed in order to 
+bring any commodity to market, naturally suitsitself in thisman- 
+ner to the effectual demand. It naturally aims at bringing always 
+that precise quantity thither which may be sufficient to supply, 
+and no more than supply, that demand. 
+
+But, in some employments, the same quantity of industry will, 
+in different years, produce very different quantities of commodi- 
+ties; while, in others, it will produce always thesame, or very nearly 
+the same. The same number of labourers in husbandry will, in 
+different years, produce very different quantities of corn, wine, 
+
+
+
+53 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+oil, hops, etc. But the same number of spinners or weavers will 
+every year produce the same, or very nearly the same, quantity of 
+linen and woollen cloth. It is only the average produce of the one 
+species of industry which can be suited, in any respect, to the 
+effectual demand; and as its actual produce is frequently much 
+greater, and frequently much less, than its average produce, the 
+quantity of the commodities brought to market will sometimes 
+exceed a good deal, and sometimes fall short a good deal, of the 
+effectual demand. Even though that demand, therefore, should 
+continuealwaysthesame, their market pricewill beliableto great 
+fluctuations, will sometimes fall a good deal below, and some- 
+times rise a good deal above, their natural price. In the other spe- 
+cies of industry, the produce of equal quantities of labour being 
+always the same, or very nearly the same, it can be more exactly 
+suited to theeffectual demand. W hilethat demand continues the 
+same, therefore, the market price of the commodities is likely to 
+do so too, and to be either altogether, or as nearly as can bejudged 
+of, the same with the natural price. That the price of linen and 
+woollen cloth is liable neither to such frequent, nor to such great 
+variations, asthepriceof corn, every man's experience will inform 
+him. The price of the one species of commodities varies only with 
+the variations in the demand; that of the other varies not only 
+with thevariationsin thedemand, but with themuch greater, and 
+
+
+
+more frequent, variations in the quantity of what is brought to 
+market, in order to supply that demand. 
+
+The occasional and temporary fluctuations in the market price 
+of any commodity fall chiefly upon those parts of its price which 
+resolve themselves into wages and profit. That part which resolves 
+itself into rent is less affected by them. A rent certain in money is 
+not in the least affected by them, either in its rate or in its value. A 
+rent which consists either in a certain proportion, or in a certain 
+quantity, of the rude produce, is no doubt affected in its yearly 
+value by all the occasional and temporary fluctuationsin themar- 
+ket price of that rudeproduce; butitisseldom affected by them in 
+its yearly rate. In settling the terms of the lease, the landlord and 
+farmer endeavour, according to their best judgment, to adjust that 
+rate, not to the temporary and occasional, but to the average and 
+ordinary price of the produce. 
+
+Such fluctuations affect both the value and the rate, either of 
+wages or of profit, according as the market happens to be either 
+overstocked or understocked with commodities or with labour, 
+with work done, or with work to be done. A public mourning 
+raises the price of black cloth ( with which the market is almost 
+alwaysunderstocked upon such occasions), and augments the prof- 
+its of themerchants who possess any considerablequantityofit.lt 
+has no effect upon the wages of the weavers. The market is 
+
+
+
+54 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+understocked with commodities, not with labour, with work done, 
+not with work to be done. It raisesthe wages of journeymen tailors. 
+The market is here understocked with labour. There is an effectual 
+demand for more labour, for more work to be done, than can be 
+had. It sinks the price of coloured silks and cloths, and thereby re- 
+ducestheprofitsof themerchants who have any considerablequan- 
+tity of them upon hand. It sinks, too, the wages of the workmen 
+employed in preparing such commodities, for which all demand is 
+stopped for six months, perhaps for a twelvemonth. T he market is 
+here overstocked both with commodities and with labour. 
+
+But though the market price of every particular commodity is 
+in thismanner continually gravitating, if one may say so, towards 
+the natural price; yet sometimes particular accidents, sometimes 
+natural causes, and sometimes particular regulationsof policy, may, 
+in many commodities, keep up the market price, for a long time 
+together, a good deal above the natural price. 
+
+When, by an in crease in the effectual demand, the market price 
+of some particular commodity happens to rise a good deal above 
+thenatural price, those who employ their stocks in supplying that 
+market, are generally careful to conceal thischange. If itwas com- 
+monly known, their great profit would tempt so many new rivals 
+to employ their stocksin thesameway, that, theeffectual demand 
+being fully supplied, the market price would soon be reduced to 
+
+
+
+thenatural price, and, perhaps, for sometimeeven below it. If the 
+market is at a great distance from the residence of those who sup- 
+ply it, they may sometimes be able to keep the secret for several 
+years together, and may so long enjoy their extraordinary profits 
+without any new rivals Secrets of this kind, however, it must be 
+acknowledged, can seldom be long kept; and the extraordinary 
+profit can last very little longer than they are kept. 
+
+Secrets in manufactures are capable of being longer kept than 
+secrets in trade. A dyer who has found the means of producing a 
+particular colour with materials which cost only half the price of 
+those commonly made use of, may, with good management, en- 
+joy the advantage of his discovery as long as he lives, and even 
+leave it as a legacy to his posterity. H is extraordinary gains arise 
+from the high price which is paid for his private labour. They 
+properly consist in the high wages of that labour. But as they are 
+repeated upon every part of his stock, and as their wholeamount 
+bears, upon that account, a regular proportion to it, they are com- 
+monly considered as extraordinary profits of stock. 
+
+Such enhancements of themarket price are evidently theeffects 
+of particular accidents, of which, however, theoperation may some- 
+times last for many years together. 
+
+Somenatural productions require such a singularity of soil and 
+situation, that all the land in a great country, which isfit for pro- 
+
+
+
+55 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+ducing them, may not be sufficient to supply the effectual de- 
+mand. T he whole quantity brought to market, therefore, may be 
+disposed of to those who are willing to give more than what is 
+sufficient to pay the rent of the land which produced them, to- 
+gether with the wages of the labour and the profits of the stock 
+which were employed in preparing and bringing them to market, 
+according to their natural rates. Such commodities may continue 
+for wholecenturies together to be sold at this high price; and that 
+part of it which resolves itself into the rent of land, is in this case 
+the part which is generally paid above its natural rate. T he rent of 
+the land which affords such singular and esteemed productions, 
+liketherentofsomevineyardsin Franceof a peculiarly happy soil 
+and situation, bears no regular proportion to the rent of other 
+equally fertileand equally well cultivated land in its neighbourhood. 
+T he wages of the labour, and the profits of the stock employed in 
+bringing such commodities to market, on the contrary, are sel- 
+dom out of their natural proportion to those of the other employ- 
+ments of labour and stock in their neighbourhood. 
+
+Such enhancements of the market price are evidently the effect 
+of natural causes, which may hinder the effectual demand from 
+ever being fully supplied, and which may continue, therefore, to 
+operate for ever. 
+
+A monopoly granted either to an individual or to a trading com- 
+
+
+
+pany, has the same effect as a secret in tradeor manufactures. The 
+monopolists, by keeping the market constantly understocked by 
+never fully supplying the effectual demand, sell their commodi- 
+ties much above the natural price, and raise their emoluments, 
+whether they consist in wagesor profit, greatly above their natural 
+rate. 
+
+Thepriceof monopoly isupon every occasion thehighest which 
+can be got. The natural price, or the price of free competition, on 
+the contrary, is the lowest which can betaken, not upon every 
+occasion indeed, butforanyconsiderabletimetogether.Theone 
+is upon every occasion the highest which can be squeezed out of 
+the buyers, or which it is supposed they will consent to give; the 
+other isthe lowest which the sellers can commonly afford to take, 
+and at the same time continue their business. 
+
+T he exclusive privileges of corporations, statutes of apprentice- 
+ship, and all those laws which restrain in particular employments, 
+the competition to a smaller number than might otherwise go 
+into them, have thesame tendency, though in a less degree. They 
+are a sort of enlarged monopolies, and may frequently, for ages 
+together, and in whole classes of employments, keep up the mar- 
+ket price of particular commodities above the natural price, and 
+maintain boththewagesofthelabourandtheprofitsofthestock 
+employed about them somewhat above their natural rate. 
+
+
+
+56 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+Such enhancements of the market price may last as long as the 
+regulations of policy which give occasion to them. 
+
+T he market price of any particular commodity though it may 
+continue long above, can seldom continue long below, its natural 
+price. Whatever part of it was paid below the natural rate, the 
+persons whose interest it affected would immediately feel theloss, 
+and would immediately withdraw either so much land or no much 
+labour, or so much stock, from being employed about it, that the 
+quantity brought to market would soon be no more than suffi- 
+cient to supply the effectual demand. Its market price, therefore, 
+would soon rise to the natural price; thisat least would be thecase 
+where there was perfect liberty. 
+
+Thesamestatutesof apprenticeship and other corporation laws, 
+indeed, which, when a manufacture is in prosperity, enable the 
+workman to raise his wages a good deal above their natural rate, 
+sometimes oblige him, when it decays, to let them down a good 
+deal below it. As in the one case they exclude many people from 
+his employment, so in the other they exclude him from many 
+employments. The effect of such regulations, however, is not near 
+so durable in sinking the workman's wages below, as in raising 
+them above their natural rate. Their operation in theonewaymay 
+endure for many centuries, but in the other it can last no longer 
+than the lives of some of the workmen who were bred to the busi- 
+
+
+
+nessin thetimeof its prosperity. W hen they are gone, the number 
+of those who are afterwards educated to the trade will naturally 
+suit itself to theeffectual demand. Thepolicy must be as violent as 
+that of I ndostan or ancient Egypt (whereevery man was bound by 
+a principle of religion to follow the occupation of his father, and 
+was supposed to commit the most horrid sacrilegeif hechanged it 
+for another), which can in any particular employment, and for 
+several gen erations together, sink either the wages of labour or the 
+profits of stock below their natural rate. 
+
+This is all that I think necessary to be observed at present con- 
+cerning the deviations, whether occasional or permanent, of the 
+market price of commodities from the natural price. 
+
+The natural price itself varies with the natural rate of each of its 
+component parts, of wages, profit, and rent; and in every society 
+thisrate varies according to their circumstances, according to their 
+riches or poverty, their advancing, stationary, or declining condi- 
+tion. I shall, in thefour following chapters, endeavour to explain, 
+as fully and distinctly as I can, the causes of those different varia- 
+tions. 
+
+First, I shall endeavour to explain what are the circumstances 
+which naturally determinethe rate of wages, and in what manner 
+those circumstances are affected by the riches or poverty, by the 
+advancing, stationary, or declining state of the society. 
+
+
+
+57 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+Secondly, I shall endeavour to shew what are the circumstances 
+which naturally determinethe rate of profit; and in what manner, 
+too, those circumstances are affected by the like variations in the 
+state of the society. 
+
+Though pecuniary wages and profit are very different in the 
+different employments of labour and stock; yet a certain propor- 
+tion seems commonly to take place between both the pecuniary 
+wages in all the different employments of labour, and the pecuni- 
+ary profitsin all the different employments of stock. This propor- 
+tion, it will appear hereafter, depends partly upon the nature of 
+the different employments, and partly upon the different laws and 
+policy of the society in which they are carried on. But though in 
+many respects dependent upon the laws and policy, this propor- 
+tion seems to be little affected by the riches or poverty of that 
+society, by its advancing, stationary, or declining condition, but to 
+remain the same, or very nearly the same, in all those different 
+states. I shall, in the third place, endeavour to explain all the dif- 
+ferent circumstances which regulate this proportion. 
+
+In the fourth and last place, I shall endeavour to shew what are 
+the circumstances which regulate the rent of land, and which ei- 
+ther raise or lower the real price of all the different substances 
+which it produces. 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIM 
+
+OFTHEWAGESOFLABOUR 
+
+The produce of labour constitutes the natural recom pence or 
+wages of labour 
+
+In that original state of things which precedes both the appro- 
+priation of land and the accumulation of stock, the whole pro- 
+duce of labour belongs to the labourer. H e has neither landlord 
+nor master to share with him. 
+
+H ad this state continued, the wages of labour would have aug- 
+mented with all those improvements in its productive powers, to 
+which thedivision of labour gives occasion. All things would gradu- 
+ally have become cheaper. They would have been produced by a 
+smaller quantity of labour; and as the commodities produced by 
+equal quantities of labour would naturally in this state of things 
+be exchanged for one another, they would have been purchased 
+likewise with the produce of a smaller quantity. 
+
+But though all things would have become cheaper in reality, in 
+appearance many things might have become dearer, than before, 
+or have been exchanged for a greater quantity of other goods. Let 
+us suppose, for example, that in the greater part of employments 
+the productive powers of labour had been improved to tenfold, or 
+
+
+
+58 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+that a day's labour could produce ten times the quantity of work 
+which it had doneoriginally; but that in a particular employment 
+they had been improved only to double, or that a day's labour 
+could produce only twice thequantity of work which it had done 
+before. In exchanging the produce of a day's labour in the greater 
+part of employments for that of a day's labour in this particular 
+one, ten times the original quantity of work in them would pur- 
+chase only twice the original quantity in it. Any particular quan- 
+tity in it, therefore, a pound weight, for example, would appear to 
+be five times dearer than before. In reality, however, it would be 
+twice ascheap. Though it required five times thequantity of other 
+goods to purchase it, it would require only half the quantity of 
+labour either to purchase or to produce it. T he acquisition, there- 
+fore, would be twice as easy as before. 
+
+But this original state of things, in which the labourer enjoyed 
+the whole produce of his own labour, could not last beyond the 
+first introduction of the appropriation of land and theaccumula- 
+tion of stock. It was at an end, therefore, long before the most 
+considerable improvements were made in the productive powers 
+of labour; and it would be to no purpose to trace further what 
+might have been its effectsupon therecompenceor wagesof labour. 
+
+Assoon asland becomes private property, thelandlord demands 
+a share of almost all the produce which the labourer can either 
+
+
+
+raise or collect from it. H is rent makes the first deduction from 
+the produce of the labour which is employed upon land. 
+
+Itseldom happensthat the person whotillstheground has where- 
+withal to maintain himself till he reaps the harvest. H is mainte- 
+nanceisgenerally advanced to him from thestock of a master, the 
+farmer who employs him, and who would have no interest to 
+employ him, unless he was to share in the produce of his labour, 
+or unless his stock was to be replaced to him with a profit. This 
+profit makes a second deduction from the produce of the labour 
+which is employed upon land. 
+
+T he produce of almost all other labour is liable to the like de- 
+duction of profit. In all arts and manufactures, the greater part of 
+the workmen stand in need of a master, to advance them the ma- 
+terials of their work, and their wages and maintenance, till it be 
+completed. H e shares in the produce of their labour, or in the 
+value which it adds to the materials upon which it is bestowed; 
+and in this share consists his profit. 
+
+It sometimes happens, indeed, that a single independent work- 
+man has stock sufficient both to purchase the materials of his work, 
+and to maintain himself till it be completed. H e is both master 
+and workman, and enjoys the whole produce of his own labour, 
+or the wholevalue which it addsto the materials upon which it is 
+bestowed. It includes what are usually two distinct revenues, be- 
+
+
+
+59 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+longing to two distinct persons, theprofitsof stock, and the wages 
+of labour. 
+
+Such cases, however, are not very frequent; and in every part of 
+Europe twenty workmen serve under a master for onethat is inde- 
+pendent, and the wages of labour are everywhere understood to 
+be, what they usually are, when the labourer is one person, and 
+the owner of the stock which employs him another. 
+
+W hat are the common wages of labour, depends everywhere 
+upon thecontract usually made between those two parties, whose 
+interests are by no means the same. The workmen desi re to get as 
+much, the masters to give as little, as possible. The former are 
+disposed to combine in order to raise, the latter in order to lower, 
+the wages of labour. 
+
+It is not, however, difficult to foresee which of the two parties 
+must, upon all ordinary occasions, have the advantage in thedis- 
+pute, and force the other into a compliance with their terms. The 
+masters, being fewer in number, can combine much more easily: 
+and the law, besides, authorises, or at least does not prohibit, their 
+combinations, while it prohibits those of the workmen. We have 
+no acts of parliament against combining to lower thepriceof work, 
+but many against combining to raise it. In all such disputes, the 
+masters can hold out much longer. A landlord, a farmer, a master 
+manufacturer, or merchant, though they did not employ a single 
+
+
+
+workman, could generally I ive a year or two upon thestocks, which 
+they have already acquired. M any workmen could not subsist a 
+week, few could subsist a month, and scarce any a year, without 
+employment. I n the long run, the workman may be as necessary 
+to his master as his master is to him; but the necessity is not so 
+immediate. 
+
+Werarely hear, it has been said, of thecombinationsof masters, 
+though frequently of those of workmen. But whoever imagines, 
+upon this account, that masters rarely combine, is as ignorant of 
+the world as of the subject. M asters are always and everywhere in 
+a sort of tacit, but constant and uniform, combination, not to 
+raise the wages of labour above their actual rate. To violate this 
+combination iseverywherea most unpopular action, and a sort of 
+reproach to a master among his neighbours and equals. We sel- 
+dom, indeed, hear of this combination, because it is the usual, 
+and, one may say, the natural state of things, which nobody ever 
+hears of. M asters, too, sometimes enter into particular combina- 
+tions to sink the wages of labour even below this rate. These are 
+always conducted with the utmost silence and secrecy till the mo- 
+ment of execution; and when the workmen yield, as they some- 
+timesdo without resistance, though severely felt by them, they are 
+never heard of by other people. Such combinations, however, are 
+frequently resisted by a contrary defensive combination of the 
+
+
+
+60 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+workmen, who sometimes, too, without any provocation of this 
+kind, combine, of their own accord, to raise tile price of their 
+labour. Their usual pretencesare, sometimes thehigh priceof pro- 
+visions, sometimes the great profit which their masters make by 
+their work. But whether their combinationsbeoffensiveor defen- 
+sive, they are always abundantly heard of. In order to bring the 
+pointto aspeedy decision, they have always recourse to theloud- 
+est clamour, and sometimes to the most shocking violence and 
+outrage. They are desperate, and act with the folly and extrava- 
+gance of desperate men, who must either starve, or frighten their 
+masters into an immediate compliance with their demands. The 
+masters, upon these occasions, arejustasclamorousupon theother 
+side, and never cease to call aloud for the assistance of the civil 
+magistrate, and the rigorous execution of those laws which have 
+been enacted with so much severity against the combination of 
+servants, labourers, and journeymen. The workmen, accordingly, 
+very seldom derive any advantage from the violence of those tu- 
+multuous combinations, which, partly from the interposition of 
+the civil magistrate, partly from the superior steadiness of the 
+masters, partly from the necessity which the greater part of the 
+workmen are under of submitting for the sake of present subsis- 
+tence, generally end in nothing but the punishment or ruin of the 
+ringleaders. 
+
+
+
+But though, in disputes with their workmen, masters must gen- 
+erally have the advantage, there is, however, a certain rate, below 
+which it seems impossible to reduce, for any considerable time, 
+th e ord i n ary wages even of th e I owest sped es of I abou r. 
+
+A man mustalwayslivebyhiswork, and hiswagesmust at least 
+be sufficient to maintain him. They must even upon most occa- 
+sions be somewhat more, otherwise it would be impossible for 
+him to bring up afamily, and theraceof such workmen could not 
+last beyond the first generation. M r Cantillon seems, upon this 
+account, to suppose that the lowest species of common labourers 
+must everywhere earn at least double their own maintenance, in 
+order that, one with another, they may be enabled to bring up two 
+children; the labour of the wife, on account of her necessary at- 
+tendanceon thechildren, being supposed no more than sufficient 
+to provide for herself: But one half the children born, it is com- 
+puted, diebeforetheageof manhood. Thepoorest labourers, there- 
+fore, according to this account, must, one with another, attempt 
+to rear at least four children, in order that two may have an equal 
+chance of living to that age. But the necessary maintenance of 
+four children, it is supposed, may be nearly equal to that of one 
+man.Thelabourof an able-bodied slave, thesameauthor adds, is 
+computed to be worth double his maintenance; and that of the 
+meanest labourer, he thinks, cannot be worth less than that of an 
+
+
+
+61 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+able-bodied slave. Thusfar at least seems certain, that, in order to 
+bring up a family, the labour of the husband and wife together 
+must, even in the lowest species of common labour, be able to 
+earn something more than what is precisely necessary for their 
+own maintenance; but in what proportion, whether in that above- 
+mentioned, or many other, I shall nottakeupon meto determine. 
+
+There are certain circumstances, however, which sometimes give 
+the labourers an advantage, and enablethem to raise their wages 
+considerably above this rate, evidently the lowest which isconsis- 
+tent with common humanity. 
+
+When in any country the demand for those who live by wages, 
+labourers, journeymen, servants of every kind, is continually in- 
+creasing; when every year furnish esemploymentforagreaternum- 
+ber than had been employed the year before, the workmen have 
+no occasion to combine in order to raise their wages. The scarcity 
+of hands occasionsa competition among masters, who bid against 
+oneanother in order to get workmen, and thus voluntarily break 
+through the natural combination of masters not to raise wages. 
+The demand for those who live by wages, it is evident, cannot 
+increase but in proportion to the increase of the funds which are 
+destined to the payment of wages. These funds are of two kinds, 
+first, the revenue which is over and above what is necessary for the 
+maintenance; and, secondly, the stock which is over and above 
+
+
+
+what is necessary for the employment of their masters. 
+
+When the landlord, annuitant, or monied man, has a greater 
+revenue than what hejudges sufficient to maintain his own fam- 
+ily, he employs either the whole or a part of the surplus in main- 
+taining oneor more menial servants. Increase this surplus, and he 
+will naturally increase thenumber of those servants. 
+
+W hen an independent workman, such asa weaver or shoemaker, 
+has got more stock than what is sufficient to purchase the materi- 
+alsof hisown work, and to maintain himself till hecan disposeof 
+it, he naturally employs one or more journeymen with the sur- 
+plus, in order to makea profit by their work. Increasethissurplus, 
+and he will naturally increase the number of hisjourneymen. 
+
+The demand for those who live by wages, therefore, necessarily 
+increases with the increase of the revenue and stock of every coun- 
+try, and cannot possibly increase without it. T heincreaseof revenue 
+and stock is the increase of national wealth. T he demand for those 
+who liveby wages, therefore, naturally increases with theincreaseof 
+national wealth, and cannot possibly increase without it. 
+
+It is not the actual greatness of national wealth, but its con- 
+tinual increase, which occasionsa risein the wages of labour. It is 
+not, accordingly, in therichest countries, but in the most thriving, 
+or in those which are growing rich the fastest, that the wages of 
+labour are highest. England is certainly, in the present times, a 
+
+
+
+62 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+much richer country than any part of N orth America. T he wages 
+of labour, however, are much higher in North America than in 
+any part of England. In the province of New York, common 
+labourers earned in 1773, before the commencement of the late 
+disturbances, three shillings and sixpence currency, equal to two 
+shillings sterling, a-day; ship-carpenters, ten shillings and sixpence 
+currency, with a pint of rum, worth sixpence sterling, equal in all 
+to six shillings and sixpence sterling; house-carpenters and brick- 
+layers, eight shillings currency, equal to four shillings and sixpence 
+sterling; journeymen tailors, five shillings currency, equal to about 
+two shillings and tenpence sterling. These prices are all above the 
+London price; and wages are said to be as high in the other colo- 
+niesasin New York. The price of provisionsiseverywherein North 
+America much lower than in England. A dearth has never been 
+known there. I n the worst seasons they have always had a suffi- 
+ciency for themselves, though less for exportation. If the money 
+price of labour, therefore, be higher than it is anywhere in the 
+mother-country, its real price, the real command of the neces- 
+saries and conveniencies of life which it conveys to the labourer, 
+must be higher in a still greater proportion. 
+
+But though N orth America is not yet so rich as England, it is 
+much more thriving, and advancing with much greater rapidity 
+to thefurther acquisition of riches. T he most decisive mark of the 
+
+
+
+prosperity of any country is the increase of the number of its in- 
+habitants. In Great Britain, and most other European countries, 
+they are not sup posed to double in less than fivehundred years. In 
+the British colonies in N orth America, it has been found that they 
+double i n twenty or five-and-twenty years. N or i n the present ti mes 
+is this increase principally owing to the continual importation of 
+new inhabitants, but to the great multiplication of the species. 
+Thosewholivetooldage, it issaid, frequently see there from fifty 
+to a hundred, and sometimes many more, descendants from their 
+own body. Labour isthereso well rewarded, that a numerousfam- 
+ily of children, instead of being a burden, is a source of opulence 
+and prosperity to the parents. The labour of each child, before it 
+can leave their house, iscomputed to be worth a hundred pounds 
+clear gain to them. A young widow with four or five young chil- 
+dren, who, among the middling or inferior ranks of people in 
+Europe, would have so littlechance for a second husband, isthere 
+frequently courted asasortof fortune. Thevalueof children isthe 
+greatest of all encouragements to marriage. Wecannot, therefore, 
+wonder that the people in N orth America should generally marry 
+very young. Notwithstanding the great increase occasioned by such 
+early marriages, there is a continual complaint of the scarcity of 
+hands in North America. The demand for labourers, the funds 
+destined for maintaining them increase, it seems, still faster than 
+
+
+
+63 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+they can find labourers to employ. 
+
+Though the wealth of a country should be very great, yet if it 
+has been long stationary we must not expect to find the wages of 
+labour very high in it. The funds destined for the payment of 
+wages, the revenue and stock of its inhabitants, may be of the 
+greatest extent; but if they have continued for several centuries of 
+thesame, or very nearly of the same extent, thenumber of labourers 
+employed every year could easily supply, and even more than sup- 
+ply, thenumber wanted the following year. There could seldom 
+be any scarcity of hands, nor could the masters be obliged to bid 
+against one another in order to get them. T he hands, on the con- 
+trary, would, in thiscase, naturally multiply beyond their employ- 
+ment. T here would bea constant scarcity of employment, and the 
+labourers would be obliged to bid against one an other in order to 
+get it. If in such a country the wages off labour had ever been 
+more than sufficient to maintain the labourer, and to enable him 
+to bring up a family, the competition of the labourers and the 
+interest of the masters would soon reduce them to the lowest rate 
+which is consistent with common humanity. China has been long 
+one of the richest, that is, one of the most fertile, best cultivated, 
+most industrious, and most populous, countries in the world. It 
+seems, however, to have been long stationary. M arco Polo, who 
+visited it more than five hundred years ago, describes its cultiva- 
+
+
+
+tion, industry, and populousness, almost in thesametermsin which 
+they are described by travellers in the present times. It had, per- 
+haps, even long before his time, acquired that full complement of 
+riches which the nature of its laws and institutions permits it to 
+acquire. The accounts of all travellers, inconsistent in many other 
+respects, agree in the low wages of labour, and in the difficulty 
+which a labourer finds in bringing up a family in China. If by 
+digging the ground a whole day he can get what will purchase a 
+small quantity of rice in the evening, he is contented. The condi- 
+tion of artificersis, if possible, still worse. Instead of waiting indo- 
+lently in their work-houses for the calls of their customers, as in 
+Europe, they are continually running about the streets with the 
+tools of their respective trades, offering their services, and, as it 
+were, begging employment. The poverty of the lower ranks of 
+people in China far surpasses that of the most beggarly nations in 
+Europe. In the neighbourhood of Canton, many hundred, it is 
+commonly said, many thousand families have no habitation on 
+theland, but live constantly in littlefishing-boats upon the rivers 
+and canals. Thesubsistence which they find thereisso scanty, that 
+they are eager to fish up the nastiest garbage thrown overboard 
+from any European ship. Any carrion, the carcase of a dead dog or 
+cat, for example, though half putrid and stinking, is as welcome 
+tothemasthemostwholesomefoodtothepeopleof other coun- 
+
+
+
+64 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+tries. M arriage is encouraged in C hina, not by the profitableness 
+of children, but by the liberty of destroying them. In all great 
+towns, several are every night exposed in the street, or drowned 
+like puppies in the water. The performance of this horrid officeis 
+even said to be the avowed business by which some people earn 
+their subsistence. 
+
+China, however, though it may, perhaps, stand still, does not 
+seem to go backwards. Its towns are nowhere deserted by their 
+inhabitants. The lands which had once been cultivated, are no- 
+whereneglected.Thesame, or very nearly the same, annual labour, 
+must, therefore, continue to be performed, and the funds des- 
+tined for maintaining it must not, consequently, be sensibly di- 
+minished. The lowest class of labourers, therefore, notwithstand- 
+ing their scanty subsistence, must some way or another makeshift 
+to continue their race so far as to keep up their usual numbers. 
+
+But it would be otherwise in a country where the funds des- 
+tined for the maintenance of labour were sensibly decaying. Every 
+year the demand for servants and labourers would, in all the dif- 
+ferent classes of employments, be less than it had been the year 
+before. M any who had been bred in the superior classes, not being 
+able to find employment in their own business, would be glad to 
+seek it in the lowest. The lowest class being not only overstocked 
+with its own workmen, but with the overflowings of all the other 
+
+
+
+classes, the competition for employment would be so great in it, 
+as to reduce the wages of labour to the most miserable and scanty 
+subsistence of the labourer. Many would not be able to find em- 
+ployment even upon these hard terms but would either starve, or 
+bedriven to seek a subsistence, either by begging, or by the perpe- 
+tration perhaps, of thegreatest enormities. Want, famine, and mor- 
+tality, would immediately prevail in that class, and from thence 
+extend themselves to all the superior classes, till the number of 
+inhabitants in the country was reduced to what could easily be 
+maintained by the revenue and stock which remained in it, and 
+which had escaped either the tyranny or calamity which had de- 
+stroyed the rest. T his, perhaps, is nearly the present state of Ben- 
+gal, and of someother of theEnglish settlem en tsin theEast Indies. 
+In a fertile country, which had before been much depopulated, 
+where subsistence, consequently, should not be very difficult, and 
+where, notwithstanding, three or four hundred thousand people 
+die of hunger in one year, we maybe assured that the funds des- 
+tined for themaintenanceofthelabouring poor are fast decaying. 
+T hedifference between thegeniusof theBritish constitution, which 
+protects and governs N orth America, and that of the mercantile 
+company which oppresses and domineers in theEast Indies, can- 
+not, perhaps, be better illustrated than by the different state of 
+those countries. 
+
+
+
+65 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+The liberal reward of labour, therefore, as it is the necessary 
+effect, so it is the natural symptom of increasing national wealth. 
+T he scanty maintenance of the labouring poor, on theother hand, 
+isthenatural symptom that things are at a stand, and their starv- 
+ing condition, that they are going fast backwards. 
+
+In Great Britain, thewages of labourseem, in the present times, 
+to be evidently more than what isprecisely necessary to en ablethe 
+labourer to bring up a family. In order to satisfy ourselves upon 
+this point, it will not be necessary to enter into any tedious or 
+doubtful calculation of what may be the lowest sum upon winch 
+it is possible to do this There are many plain symptoms, that the 
+wages of labour are nowhere in thiscountry regulated by thislow- 
+est rate, which is consistent with common humanity. 
+
+First, in almost every part of Great Britain thereisadistinction, 
+even in the lowest species of labour, between summer and winter 
+wages. Summer wages are always highest. But, on account of the 
+extraordinary expenseof fuel, the maintenance of a family is most 
+expensivein winter. Wages, therefore, being highest when thisex- 
+pense is lowest, it seems evident that they are not regulated by 
+what is necessary for this expense, but by the quantity and sup- 
+posed valueof thework. A labourer, it may be said, indeed, ought 
+to save part of his summer wages, in order to defray his winter 
+expense; and that, through the whole year, they do not exceed 
+
+
+
+what isnecessary to maintain hisfamily through thewholeyear. A 
+slave, however, or one absolutely dependent on us for immediate 
+subsistence, would not be treated in thismanner. H isdaily subsis- 
+tence would be proportioned to his daily necessities. 
+
+Secondly, thewagesof labour do not, in Great Britain, fluctuate 
+with the price of provisions. T hese vary everywhere from year to 
+year, frequently from month to month. But in many places, the 
+money price of labour remains uniformly the same, sometimes 
+for half a century together. If, in these places, therefore, the 
+labouring poor can maintain their familiesin dear years, they must 
+be at their ease in times of moderate plenty, and in affluence in 
+those of extraordinary cheapness. The high price of provisions 
+during these ten years past, has not, in many parts of the king- 
+dom, been accompanied with any sensiblerisein themoney price 
+of labour. It has, indeed, in some; owing, probably, more to the 
+increase of the demand for labour, than to that of the price of 
+provisions. 
+
+T hirdly, as the priceof provisions varies more from year to year 
+than the wages of labour, so, on the other hand, the wages of 
+labour vary more from place to place than the price of provisions. 
+The prices of bread and butchers' meat are generally the same, or 
+very nearly the same, through the greater part of the united king- 
+dom. These, and most other things which are sold by retail, the 
+
+
+
+66 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+way in which the labouring poor buy all things, are generally fully 
+as cheap, or cheaper, in great towns than in the remoter parts of 
+the country, for reasons which I shall have occasion to explain 
+hereafter. But the wages of labour in a great town and its 
+neighbourhood, are frequently a fourth or a fifth part, twenty or 
+five- and— twenty per cent, higher than at a few miles distance. 
+Eighteen penceaday may be reckoned thecommon priceof labour 
+in London and itsneighbourhood.Atafewmilesdistance, itfalls 
+to fourteen and fifteen pence. Tenpence may be reckoned itsprice 
+in Edinburgh and its neighbourhood. At a few miles distance, it 
+falls to eightpence, theusual priceof common labour through the 
+greater part of the low country of Scotland, where it varies a good 
+deal less than in England. Such a difference of prices, which, it 
+seems, is not always sufficient to transport a man from one parish 
+to another, would necessarily occasion so great a transportation of 
+the most bulky commodities, not only from one parish to an- 
+other, but from one end of the kingdom, almost from one end of 
+theworld to the other, as would soon reduce them morenearlyto 
+a level. After all that has been said of the levity and inconstancy of 
+human nature, it appears evidently from experience, that man is, 
+of all sorts of luggage, the most difficult to be transported. If the 
+labouring poor, therefore, can maintain theirfamiliesin those parts 
+of the kingdom where the price of labour is lowest, they must be 
+
+
+
+in affluence where it is highest. 
+
+Fourthly, the variations in the price of labour not only do not 
+correspond, either in place or time, with those in the price of pro- 
+visions, but they are frequently quite opposite. 
+
+Grain, the food of the common people, is dearer in Scotland 
+than in England, whence Scotland receives almost every year very 
+large supplies. But English corn must be sold dearer in Scotland, 
+the country to which it is brought, than in England, the country 
+from which it comes; and in proportion to itsquality it cannot be 
+sold dearer in Scotland than the Scotch corn that comes to the 
+same market in competition with it. The quality of grain depends 
+chiefly upon the quantity of flour or meal which it yields at the 
+mill; and, in this respect, English grain issomuch superior to the 
+Scotch, that though often dearer in appearance, or in proportion 
+to the measure of its bulk, it is generally cheaper in reality, or in 
+proportion to itsquality, or even to themeasureof its weight. The 
+priceof labour, on thecontrary, isdearerin England than in Scot- 
+land. If the labouring poor, therefore, can maintain their families 
+in the one part of the united kingdom, they must be in affluence 
+in the other. Oatmeal, indeed, supplies the common people in 
+Scotland with the greatest and the best part of their food, which 
+is, in general, much inferior to that of their neighbours of the 
+same rank in England. This difference, however, in the mode of 
+
+
+
+67 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+their subsistence, is not the cause, but the effect, of the difference 
+in their wages; though, by a strange misapprehension, I have fre- 
+quently heard it represented as the cause. It is not because one 
+man keepsacoach, whilehisneighbourwalksa-foot, thattheone 
+isrich, and the other poor; but because the one is rich, hekeepsa 
+coach, and because the other ispoor, he walks a-foot. 
+
+D uring the course of the last century, taking oneyear with an- 
+other, grain was dearer in both parts of the united kingdom than 
+during that of the present. This is a matter of fact which cannot 
+now admit of any reasonable doubt; and the proof of it is, if pos- 
+sible, still more decisive with regard to Scotland than with regard 
+to England. It is in Scotland supported by the evidence of the 
+public fiars, annual valuations made upon oath, according to the 
+actual state of the markets, of all the different sorts of grain in 
+every different county of Scotland. If such direct proof could re- 
+quire any collateral evidence to confirm it, I would observe, that 
+this has likewise been the case in France, and probably in most 
+other partsof Europe. With regard to France, there istheclearest 
+proof. But though it is certain, that in both parts of the united 
+kingdom grain was somewhat dearer in the last century than in 
+the present, it is equally certain that labour was much cheaper. If 
+the labouring poor, therefore, could bring up their families then, 
+they must be much mo re at their ease now. In the last century, the 
+
+
+
+most usual day-wages of common labour through the greater part 
+of Scotland were sixpence in summer, and fivepence in winter. 
+Three shillings a-week, the same price, very nearly still continues 
+to be paid in some parts of the H ighlands and Western islands. 
+T hrough thegreater part of the Low country, the most usual wages 
+of common labour are now eight pence a-day; tenpence, some- 
+times a shilling, about Edinburgh, in the counties which border 
+upon England, probably on account of that neighbourhood, and 
+in afew other pi aces where there has lately been a considerable rise 
+in the demand for labour, about Glasgow, Carron, Ayrshire, etc. 
+In England, the improvements of agriculture, manufactures, and 
+commerce, began much earlier than in Scotland. Thedemand for 
+labour, and consequently itsprice, must necessarily haveincreased 
+with those improvements. In the last century, accordingly, as well 
+as in the present, the wages of labour were higher in England than 
+in Scotland. They have risen, too, considerably since that time, 
+though, on account of the greater variety of wages paid there in 
+different places, it is more difficult to ascertain how much. In 
+1614, the pay of a foot soldier was the same as in the present 
+times, eightpence a-day. When it was first established, it would 
+naturally be regulated by the usual wages of common labourers, 
+the rank of people from which foot soldiers are commonly drawn. 
+Lord-chief-justice H ales, who wroteinthetimeof Charlesll.com- 
+
+
+
+68 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+putes the necessary expense of a labourer's fami ly, consisti ng of six 
+persons, the father and mother, two children able to do some- 
+thing, and two not able, at ten shillings a-week, or twenty-six 
+pounds a-year. I f they cannot earn this by their labour, they must 
+make it up, hesupposes, either by begging or stealing. H eappears 
+to have enquired very carefully into this subject {See his scheme 
+for the maintenance of the poor, in Burn's H istory of the Poor 
+Laws.}. In 1688, M r Gregory King, whose skill in political arith- 
+metic is so much extolled by Dr Davenant, computed the ordi- 
+nary incomeof labourers and out-servants to be fifteen poundsa- 
+yeartoafamily, which he supposed to consist, one with another, 
+of three and a half persons. H iscalculation, therefore, though dif- 
+ferent in appearance, correspondsvery nearly at bottom with that 
+of JudgeH ales. Both suppose the weekly expenseof such families 
+tobeabouttwenty-pencea-head. Boththepecuniaryincomeand 
+expense of such families have increased considerably since that 
+timethrough thegreater part of thekingdom, in some places more, 
+and in some less, though perhaps scarce anywhere so much as 
+some exaggerated accounts of the present wages of labour have 
+lately represented them to the public. T he priceof labour, it must 
+be observed, cannot be ascertained very accurately anywhere, dif- 
+ferent prices being often paid at the same place and for the same 
+sort of labour, not only according to the different abilities of the 
+
+
+
+workman, but according to the easiness or hardness of the mas- 
+ters. W here wages are not regulated by law, all that wecan pretend 
+to determine is, what are the most usual; and experience seems to 
+shew that law can never regulate them properly, though it has 
+often pretended to do so. 
+
+T he real recompence of labour, the real quantity of the neces- 
+saries and convenienciesof life which it can procure to thelabourer, 
+has, duringthecourseofthepresent century, increased perhapsin 
+a still greater proportion than its money price. Not only grain has 
+become somewhat cheaper, but many other things, from which 
+the industrious poor derive an agreeableand wholesomevariety of 
+food, have become a great deal cheaper. Potatoes, for example, do 
+not at present, through the greater part of the kingdom, cost half 
+theprice which they used to do thirty or forty years ago. Thesame 
+thing may be said of turnips, carrots, cabbages; things which were 
+formerly never raised but by the spade, but which are now com- 
+monly raised by the plough. All sort of garden stuff, too, has be- 
+come cheaper. Thegreater part of the apples, and even of the on- 
+ions, consumed in Great Britain, were, in the last century, im- 
+ported from Flanders. The great improvements in the coarser 
+manufactoriesof both linen and woollen cloth furnish thelabourers 
+with cheaper and better clothing; and those in the manufactories 
+of the coarser metals, with cheaper and better instruments of trade, 
+
+
+
+69 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+as well as with many agreeable and convenient pieces of house- 
+hold furniture. Soap, salt, candles, leather, and fermented liquors, 
+have, indeed, become a good deal dearer, chiefly from the taxes 
+which have been laid upon them. The quantity of these, however, 
+which thelabouring poor an under any necessity of consuming, is 
+so very small, that the increase in their price does not compensate 
+the diminution in that of so many other things. The common 
+complaint, that luxury extends itself even to the lowest ranks of 
+the people, and that the labouring poor will not now be con- 
+tented with thesamefood, clothing, and lodging, which satisfied 
+them in former times, may convince us that it is not the money 
+priceof labour only, but its real recompence, which hasaugmented. 
+Is this improvement in the circumstances of the lower ranks of 
+thepeopleto be regarded as an advantage, or as an inconveniency, 
+to the society? The answer seems at first abundantly plain. Ser- 
+vants, labourers, and workmen of different kinds, makeup thefar 
+greater part of every great political society. But what improves the 
+circumstances of the greater part, can never be regarded as any 
+inconveniency to the whole. N o society can surely be flourishing 
+and happy, of which thefar greater part of the members are poor 
+and miserable. It isbut equity, besides, that they who feed, clothe, 
+and lodge thewholebody of thepeople, should have such a share 
+of the produce of their own labour as to be themselves tolerably 
+
+
+
+well fed, clothed, and lodged. 
+
+Poverty, though it no doubt discourages, does not always pre- 
+vent, marriage. It seems even to be favourable to generation. A 
+half-starved H ighland woman frequently bears more than twenty 
+children, while a pampered fine lady is often in capable of bearing 
+any, and is generally exhausted by two or three. Barrenness, so 
+frequent among women of fashion, is very rare among those of 
+inferior station. Luxury, in thefair sex, whileit inflames, perhaps, 
+thepassion for enjoyment, seems always to weaken, and frequently 
+to destroy altogether, the powers of generation. 
+
+But poverty, though it does not prevent the generation, is ex- 
+tremely unfavourable to the rearing of children. The tender plant 
+is produced; but in so cold a soil, and so severe a climate, soon 
+withersand dies. It isnot uncommon, I have been frequently told, 
+in the H ighlandsof Scotland, for a mother who has born twenty 
+children not to have two alive. Several officers of great experience 
+have assured me, that, so far from recruiting their regiment, they 
+have never been able to supply it with drums and fifes, from all 
+the soldiers' children that were born in it. A greater number of 
+finechildren, however, isseldom seen anywhere than about a bar- 
+rack of soldiers. Very few of them, it seems, arrive at the age of 
+thirteen or fourteen. In some places, one half the children die 
+before they are four years of age, in many places before they are 
+
+
+
+70 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+seven, and in almost all places before they are nine or ten. This 
+great mortality, however will everywhere be found chiefly among 
+the children of the common people, who cannot afford to tend 
+them with the same care as those of better station. Though their 
+marriages are generally more fruitful than thoseof people of fash- 
+ion, a smaller proportion of their children arrive at maturity. In 
+foundling hospitals, and among the children brought up by par- 
+ish charities, the mortality is still greater than among those of the 
+common people. 
+
+Every species of animals naturally multiplies in proportion to 
+the means of their subsistence, and no species can ever multiply 
+be yond it. But in civilized society, it is only among the inferior 
+ranks of people that the scantiness of subsistence can set limits to 
+thefurther multiplication of the human species; and it can do so 
+in no other way than by destroying a great part of the children 
+which their fruitful marriages produce. 
+
+Theliberal reward of labour, by enablingthem to providebetter 
+for their children, and consequently to bring up a greater number, 
+naturally tendsto widen and extend those limits It deserves to be 
+remarked, too, that it necessarily does this as nearly as possible in 
+the proportion which the demand for labour requires. If this de- 
+mand is continually increasing, the reward of labour must neces- 
+sarily encourage in such a manner the marriage and multiplica- 
+
+
+
+tion of labourers, as may enable them to supply that continually 
+increasing demand by a continually increasing population. If the 
+reward should at any time be less than what was requisite for this 
+purpose, the deficiency of hands would soon raise it; and if it 
+should at any time be more, their excessive multiplication would 
+soon lower it to this necessary rate. The market would be so much 
+understocked with labour in theonecase, and so much overstocked 
+in the other, as would soon force back its price to that proper rate 
+which thecircumstancesofthesociety required. Itisin thisman- 
+ner that the demand for men, like that for any other commodity, 
+necessarily regulates the production of men, quickens it when it 
+goes on too slowly, and stopsitwhen it advances too fast. Itisthis 
+demand which regulates and determines the state of propagation 
+in all the different countries of the world; in N orth America, in 
+Europe, and in China; which renders it rapidly progressive in the 
+first, slow and gradual in the second, and altogether stationary in 
+the last. 
+
+Thewearandtearofaslave, it has been said, is at the expense of 
+his master; but that of a free servant is at his own expense. T he 
+wear and tear of the latter, however, is, in reality, as much at the 
+expense of his master as that of the former. The wages paid to 
+journeymen and servants of every kind must be such as may en- 
+able them, one with another to continue the race of journeymen 
+
+
+
+71 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+and servants, according as the increasing, diminishing, or station- 
+ary demand of thesociety, may happen to require. But though the 
+wear and tear of a free servant be equally at the expense of his 
+master, it generally costs him much less than that of a slave. The 
+fund destined for replacing or repairing, if I may say so, the wear 
+and tear of the slave, is commonly managed by a negligent master 
+or careless overseer. T hat destined for performing the same office 
+with regard to the freeman is managed by the freeman himself. 
+The disorders which generally prevail in theeconomyof the rich, 
+naturally introduce them selves into themanagement of theformer; 
+the strict frugality and parsimoniousattention of the poor as natu- 
+rally establish themselves in that of the latter. U nder such differ- 
+ent management, the same purpose must require very different 
+degrees of expense to execute it. It appears, accordingly, from the 
+experience of all ages and nations, I believe, that theworkdoneby 
+freemen comes cheaper in the end than that performed by slaves. 
+It isfound to do so even at Boston, N ew-York, and Philadelphia, 
+where the wages of common labour are so very high. 
+
+The liberal reward of labour, therefore, as it is the effect of in- 
+creasing wealth, so it is the cause of increasing population. To 
+complain of it, is to lament over the necessary cause and effect of 
+the greatest public prosperity. 
+
+It deserves to be remarked, perhaps, that it is in the progressive 
+
+
+
+state, while the society is advancing to the further acquisition, 
+rather than when it has acquired its full complement of riches, 
+that the condition of the labouring poor, of thegreat body of the 
+people, seems to be the happiest and the most comfortable. It is 
+hard in the stationary, and miserable in the declining state. The 
+progressive state is, in reality, the cheerful and the hearty state to 
+all the different orders of the society; the stationary is dull; the 
+declining melancholy. 
+
+The liberal reward of labour, as it encourages the propagation, 
+so it increases the industry of the common people. The wages of 
+labour are theencouragement of industry, which, I ike every other 
+human quality, improves in proportion to theencouragement it 
+receives. A plentiful subsistence increases the bodily strength of 
+the labourer, and the comfortable hope of bettering hiscondition, 
+and of ending hisdays, perhaps, in ease and plenty, animateshim 
+to exert that strength to the utmost. W here wages are high, ac- 
+cordingly, weshall alwaysfind theworkmen more active, diligent, 
+and expeditious, than where they are low; in England, for example, 
+than in Scotland; in the neighbourhood of great towns, than in 
+remote country places. Some workmen, indeed, when they can 
+earn in four days what will maintain them through the week, will 
+be idle the other three. This, however, is by no means the case 
+with the greater part. Workmen, on the contrary, when they are 
+
+
+
+72 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+liberally paid by the piece, are very apt to overwork themselves, 
+and to ruin their health and constitution in a few years. A carpen- 
+ter in London, and in someother places, is not supposed to last in 
+his utmost vigour above eight years. Something of the same kind 
+happensin many other trades, in which theworkmen are paid by 
+thepiece; as they generally are in manufactures, and even in coun- 
+trylabour, wherever wages are higher than ordinary. Almost every 
+class of artificers is subject to some peculiar infirmity occasioned 
+by excessive application to their peculiar species of work. 
+Ramuzzini, an eminent Italian physician, has written a particular 
+book concerning such diseases. Wedo not reckon our soldiers the 
+most industrious set of people among us; yet when soldiers have 
+been employed in someparticularsortsof work, and liberally paid 
+by the piece, their officers have frequently been obliged to stipu- 
+late with the undertaker, that they should not be allowed to earn 
+aboveacertain sum everyday, accordingto the rate at which they 
+were paid. Till this stipulation was made, mutual emulation, and 
+thedesireof greater gain, frequently prompted them to overwork 
+themselves, and to hurt their health by excessive labour. Excessive 
+application, during four days of the week, is frequently the real 
+cause of the idleness of the other three, so much and so loudly 
+complained of. Great labour, either of mind or body, continued 
+for several days together is, in most men, naturally followed by a 
+
+
+
+great desire of relaxation, which, if not restrained by force, or by 
+some strong necessity, isalmost irresistible. Itisthecall of nature, 
+which requires to be relieved by some indulgence, sometimes of 
+ease only, but sometimes too of dissipation and diversion. If it is 
+not complied with, the consequences are often dangerous and 
+sometimes fatal, and such as almost always, sooner or later, bring 
+on the peculiar infirmity of the trade. If masters would always 
+listen to the dictates of reason and humanity, they have frequently 
+occasion rather to moderate, than to animate the application of 
+many of their workmen. It will befound, I believe, in every sort of 
+trade, that the man who works so moderately, as to be able to 
+work constantly, not only preserves his health the longest, but, in 
+the course of the year, executes the greatest quantity of work. 
+
+In cheap yearsit ispret ended, workmen are generally moreidle, 
+and in deartimesmoreindustriousthan ordinary. A plentiful sub- 
+sistence, therefore, it has been concluded, relaxes, and a scanty 
+one quickens their industry. That a little more plenty than ordi- 
+nary may render some workmen idle, cannot be well doubted; but 
+that it should have this effect upon thegreater part, or that men in 
+general should work better when they are ill fed, than when they 
+are well fed, when they are disheartened than when they are in 
+good spirits, when they are frequently sick than when they are 
+generally in good health, seemsnotvery probable. Years of dearth, 
+
+
+
+73 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+it is to be observed, are generally among thecommon peopleyears 
+of sickness and mortality, which cannot fail to diminish the pro- 
+duce of their industry. 
+
+I n years of plenty, servants frequently leave their masters, and 
+trust their subsistence to what they can make by their own indus- 
+try. But the same cheapness of provisions, by increasing the fund 
+which is destined for the maintenance of servants, encourages 
+masters, farmers especially, to employ a greater number. Farmers, 
+upon such occasions, expect more profit from their corn by main- 
+taining a few more labouring servants, than by selling it at a low 
+pricein the market. The demand for servants increases, whilethe 
+number of those who offer to supply that demand diminishes. 
+The price of labour, therefore, frequently rises in cheap years. 
+
+In years of scarcity, the difficulty and uncertainty of subsistence 
+make all such people eager to return to service. But the high price 
+of provisions, by diminishing the funds destined for the mainte- 
+nance of servants, disposes masters rather to diminish than to in- 
+crease the number of those they have. In dear years, too, poor 
+independent workmen frequently consume the little stock with 
+which they had used to supply themselves with the materials of 
+their work, and are obliged to become journeymen for subsis- 
+tence. M ore people want employment than easily get it; many are 
+willing to take it upon lower terms than ordinary; and the wages 
+
+
+
+of both servants and journeymen frequently sink in dear years. 
+
+M asters of all sorts, therefore, frequently make better bargains 
+with their servants in dear than in cheap years, and find them 
+more humble and dependent intheformer than in the latter. They 
+naturally, therefore, commend the former as more favourable to 
+industry. Landlordsand farmers, besides, two of the largest classes 
+of masters, have another reason for being pleased with dear years. 
+The rents of the one, and the profits of the other, depend very 
+much upon the price of provisions. Nothing can be more absurd, 
+however, than to imagine that men in general should work less 
+when they work for themselves, than when they work for other 
+people. A poor independent workman will generally be more in- 
+dustrious than even a journeyman who works by the piece. T he 
+oneenjoysthewholeproduceof hisown industry, theother shares 
+it with his master. The one, in his separate independent state, is 
+lessliabletothetemptationsof bad company, which, in largemanu- 
+factories, so frequently ruin themoralsof theother.Thesuperior- 
+ity of the independent workman over those servants who arehired 
+by the month or by the year, and whose wages and maintenance 
+arethesame, whether they do much or do little, islikely to be still 
+greater. Cheap years tend to increase the proportion of indepen- 
+dent workmen to journeymen and servants of all kinds, and dear 
+years to diminish it. 
+
+
+
+74 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+A French author of great knowledge and ingenuity, M r M essance, 
+receiver of the taillies in the election of St Etienne, endeavours to 
+shew that the poor do more work in cheap than in dear years, by 
+comparing the quantity and value of the goods made upon those 
+different occasions in three different manufactures; one of coarse 
+woollens, carried on at Elbeuf; one of linen, and another of silk, 
+both which extend through the whole generality of Rouen. It ap- 
+pears from his account, which is copied from the registers of the 
+public offices, that thequantity and valueofthegoodsmadein all 
+those threemanufactorieshas generally been greater in cheap than 
+in dear years, and that it has always been; greatest in the cheapest, 
+and least in the dearest years. All the three seem to be stationary 
+manufactures, or which, though their produce may vary some- 
+what from year to year, are, upon the whole, neither going back- 
+wards nor forwards. 
+
+The manufacture of linen in Scotland, and that of coarse 
+woollensin theWest Riding of Yorkshire, are growing manufac- 
+tures, of which the produce is generally, though with some varia- 
+tions, increasing both in quantity and value. Upon examining, 
+however, the accounts which have been published of their annual 
+produce, I have not been able to observe that its variations have 
+had any sen si ble connection with thedearness or cheapness of the 
+seasons. In 1740, a year of great scarcity, both manufactures, in- 
+
+
+
+deed, appear to havedeclined very considerably. But in 1756, an- 
+other year or great scarcity, the Scotch manufactures made more 
+than ordinary advances. The Yorkshire manufacture, indeed, de- 
+clined, and its produce did not rise to what it had been in 1755, 
+till 1766, after the repeal of the American stamp act. In that and 
+the following year, it greatly exceeded what it had ever been be- 
+fore, and it has continued to advance ever since. 
+
+T he produce of all great manufactures for distant salemust nec- 
+essarily depend, not so much upon the dearness or cheapness of 
+theseasonsin thecountries where they are carried on, asupon the 
+circumstances which affect the demand in the countries where 
+they are consumed; upon peace or war, upon the prosperity or 
+declension of other rival manufactures and upon the good or bad 
+humour of their principal customers. A great part of the extraor- 
+dinary work, besides, which is probably donein cheap years, never 
+enters thepublic registers of manufactures. T he men-servants, who 
+leave their masters, become independent labourers. The women 
+return to their parents, and commonly spin, in order to make 
+clothes for themselves and their families. Even the independent 
+workmen do not always, work for public sale, but are employed 
+by some of their neighbours in manufactures for family use. The 
+produce of their labour, therefore, frequently makes no figure in 
+those public registers, of which the records are sometimes pub- 
+
+
+
+75 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+lished with so much parade, and from which our merchants and 
+manufacturers would often vainly pretend to announce the pros- 
+perity or declension of the greatest empires. 
+
+Through the variations in the price of labour not only do not 
+always correspond with those in the price of provisions, but are 
+frequently quiteopposite, we must not, upon thisaccount, imag- 
+inethatthepriceof provisionshasnoinfluenceupon that of labour. 
+T he money priceof labour is necessarily regulated by two circum- 
+stances; the demand for labour, and the price of the necessaries 
+and conveniences of life. The demand for labour, according as it 
+happensto beincreasing, stationary, or declining, or to require an 
+increasing, stationary, or declining population, determines the 
+quantitiesof the necessariesand conveniences of life which must 
+be given to the labourer; and the money price of labour is deter- 
+mined by what is requisite for purchasing this quantity. Though 
+the money priceof labour, therefore, is sometimes high where the 
+price of provisions is low, it would be still higher, the demand 
+continuing the same, if the price of provisions was high. 
+
+It is because the demand for labour increases in years of sudden 
+and extraordinary plenty, and diminishes in those of sudden and 
+extraordinary scarcity, that the money price of labour sometimes 
+rises in the one, and sinks in the other. 
+
+In a year of sudden and extraordinary plenty, there are funds in 
+
+
+
+thehandsof many of theemployersof industry, sufficientto main- 
+tain and employ a greater number of industrious peoplethan had 
+been employed the year before; and this extraordinary number 
+cannot always be had. Those masters, therefore, who want more 
+workmen, bid against one another, in order to get them, which 
+sometimes raises both the real and themoney priceof their labour. 
+T he contrary of this happens in a year of sudden and extraordi- 
+nary scarcity. The funds destined for employing industry are less 
+than they had been the year before. A considerable number of 
+people are thrown out of employment, who bid one against an- 
+other, in order to get it, which sometimes lowers both thereal and 
+the money price of labour. I n 1740, a year of extraordinary scar- 
+city, many people were willing to work for bare subsistence. In the 
+succeeding years of plenty, it was more difficult to get labourers 
+and servants. The scarcity of a dear year, by diminishing the de- 
+mand for labour, tends to lower its price, as the high priceof pro- 
+visions tends to raise it. T he plenty of a cheap year, on the con- 
+trary, by increasing the demand, tendsto raise thepriceof labour, 
+as the cheapness of provisions tends to lower it. In the ordinary 
+variations of the prices of provisions, those two opposite causes 
+seem to counterbalance one another, which is probably, in part, 
+the reason why the wages of labour are everywhere so much more 
+steady and permanent than the price of provisions. 
+
+
+
+76 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+The increase in the wages of labour necessarily increases the 
+price of many commodities, by increasing that part of it which 
+resolves itself into wages, and so far tends to diminish their con- 
+sumption, both at home and abroad. The same cause, however, 
+which raises the wages of labour, the increase of stock, tends to 
+increase its productive powers, and to make a smaller quantity of 
+labour produce a greater quantity of work. T heowner of thestock 
+which employsa great number of labourers necessarily endeavours, 
+for his own advantage, to make such a proper division and distri- 
+bution of employment, that they may be enabled to produce the 
+greatest quantity of work possible. For the same reason, he 
+endeavours to supply them with the best machinery which either 
+he or they can think of. W hat takes place among the labourers in 
+a particular workhouse, takes place, for the same reason, among 
+those of a great society. T he greater their number, the more they 
+naturally dividethem selves into different classes and subdivisions 
+of employments. More heads are occupied in inventing the most 
+proper machinery for executing the work of each, and it is, there- 
+fore, more likely to be invented. There me many commodities, 
+therefore, which, in consequence of these improvements, cometo 
+be produced by so much less labour than before, that the increase 
+of its price is more than compensated by the diminution of its 
+quantity. 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX 
+
+OFTHE PROFITS OF STOCK 
+
+The rise and fall in the profits of stock depend upon the same 
+causes with the rise and fall in the wages of labour, theincreasing 
+or declining state of the wealth of the society; but those causes 
+affect the one and the other very differently. 
+
+Theincreaseof stock, which raiseswages, tends to lower profit. 
+When the stocks of manyrich merchants are turned intothesame 
+trade, their mutual competition naturally tendsto lower its profit; 
+and when there is a like increase of stock in all the different trades 
+carried on in the same society, the same competition must pro- 
+duce the same effect in them all. 
+
+It is not easy, it has already been observed, to ascertain what are 
+the average wages of labour, even in a particular place, and at a 
+particular time. Wecan, even in thiscase, seldom determinemore 
+than what are the most usual wages. But even this can seldom be 
+donewith regard to the profits of stock. Profit is so very fluctuat- 
+ing, that the person who carries on a particular trade, cannot al- 
+ways tell you himself what isthe average of hisannual profit. It is 
+affected, not only by every variation of price in the commodities 
+which he deals in, but by the good or bad fortune both of his 
+
+
+
+77 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+rivals and of his customers, and by a thousand other accidents, to 
+which goods, when carried either by sea or by land, or even when 
+stored in a warehouse, are liable. It varies, therefore, not only from 
+year to year, but from day to day, and almost from hour to hour. To 
+ascertain what isthe average profit of all the different trades carried 
+on in a great kingdom, must be much more difficult; and to judge 
+of what it may have been formerly, or in remote periods of time, 
+with any degreeof precision, must be altogether impossible. 
+
+But though it may be impossible to determine, with any degree 
+of precision, what are or were the average profits of stock, either in 
+the present or in ancient times, some notion may be formed of 
+them from the interest of money. It may belaid down asa maxim, 
+that wherever a great deal can be made by the use of money, a 
+greatdeal will commonly be given for theuse of it; and that, wher- 
+ever little can be made by it, less will commonly he given for it. 
+Accordingly, therefore, as the usual market rate of interest varies 
+in any country, we may be assured that the ordinary profits of 
+stock must vary with it, must sink as it sinks, and rise as it rises. 
+The progress of interest, therefore, may lead us to form some no- 
+tion of the progress of profit. 
+
+By the 37th of Henry VII I. all interest above ten percent, was 
+declared unlawful. M ore, it seems, had sometimes been taken be- 
+fore that. In the reign of Edward VI. religious zeal prohibited all 
+
+
+
+interest. Thisprohibition, however, likeall othersof thesamekind, 
+is said to have produced no effect, and probably rather increased 
+than diminished theevil of usury. The statute of Henry VII I. was 
+revived by the 13th of Elizabeth, cap. 8. and ten percent, contin- 
+ued to bethelegal rate of interest till the 21st of James I. when it 
+was restricted to eight per cent. It was reduced to six per cent, 
+soon after the Restoration, and by the 12th of Queen Anne, to 
+five per cent. All these different statutory regulations seem to have 
+been made with great propriety. They seem to have followed, and 
+not to have gone before, the market rate of interest, or the rate at 
+which people of good credit usually borrowed. Since the time of 
+Q ueen Anne, five per cent, seems to have been rather above than 
+below the market rate. Before the late war, the government bor- 
+rowed at three per cent; and people of good credit in the capital, 
+and in many other parts of the kingdom, at three and a-half, four, 
+and four and a-half per cent. 
+
+Since the time of Henry VIM. the wealth and revenue of the 
+country have been continually advancing, and in the course of 
+their progress, their pace seems rather to have been gradually ac- 
+celerated than retarded. They seem not only to have been going 
+on, but to have been going on faster and faster. The wages of 
+labour have been continually increasing during the same period, 
+and, in thegreaterpartof thedifferentbranchesof tradeand manu- 
+
+
+
+78 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+factures, the profits of stock have been diminishing. 
+
+It generally requires a greater stock to carry on any sort of trade 
+in a great town than in a country village. The great stocks em- 
+ployed in every branch of trade, and the number of rich competi- 
+tors, generally reduce the rateof profit in theformer below what it 
+is in the latter. But the wages of labour are generally higher in a 
+great town than in acountry village. In athrivingtown, thepeople 
+who have great stocks to employ, frequently cannot get the num- 
+ber of workmen they want, and thereforebid against one an other, 
+in order to get as many as they can, which raises the wages of 
+labour, and lowers the profits of stock. In the remote parts of the 
+country, there is frequently not stock sufficient to employ all the 
+people, who therefore bid against one another, in order to get 
+employment, which lowers the wagesof labour, and raises theprof- 
+its of stock. 
+
+I n Scotland, though the legal rate of interest is the same as in 
+England, the market rate is rather higher. People of the best credit 
+there seldom borrow under five per cent. Even private bankers in 
+Edinburgh give four per cent, upon their promissory-notes, of 
+which payment, either in whole or in part may be demanded at 
+pleasure. Private bankers in London give no interest for the money 
+which is deposited with them. There are few trades which cannot 
+be carried on with a smaller stock in Scotland than in England. 
+
+
+
+The common rateof profit, therefore, must be somewhat greater. 
+The wages of labour, it has already been observed, are lower in 
+Scotland than in England. The country, too, is not only much 
+poorer, but the steps by which it advances to a better condition, 
+for it is evidently advancing, seem to be much slower and more 
+tardy. The legal rateof interest in Francehasnotduringthecourse 
+of the present century, been always regulated by the market rate 
+{SeeDenisart, ArtideTauxdes Interests, torn, iii, p.13}. In 1720, 
+interest was reduced from the twentieth to the fiftieth penny, or 
+from five to two per cent. In 1724, it was raised to the thirtieth 
+penny, ortothreeandathird percent. In 1725, itwasagain raised 
+to the twentieth penny, or to five per cent. In 1766, during the 
+administration of M r Laverdy, it was reduced to the twenty-fifth 
+penny, or to four per cent. T he AbbeTerray raised it afterwardsto 
+the old rate of five per cent. T he supposed purpose of many of 
+those violent reductions of interest was to prepare the way for 
+reducingthat of thepublic debts; apurpose which has sometimes 
+been executed. Franceis, perhaps, in the present times, not so rich 
+a country as England; and though the legal rateof interest has in 
+France frequently been lower than in England, the market rate has 
+generally been higher; for there, as in other countries, they have 
+several very safe and easy methods of evading the law. T he profits 
+of trade, I have been assured by British merchants who had traded 
+
+
+
+79 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+in both countries, are higher in France than in England; and it is 
+no doubt upon this account, that many British subjects chuse 
+rather to employ their capitals in a country where trade is in dis- 
+grace, than in one where it ishighly respected. The wages of labour 
+are lower in France than in England. When you go from Scotland 
+to England, the difference which you may remark between the 
+dress and countenance of the common peoplein theonecountry 
+and in theother, sufficiently indicates thedifference in their con- 
+dition. The contrast is still greater when you return from France. 
+France, though no doubt a richer country than Scotland, seems 
+not to be going forward so fast. It isa common and even a popular 
+opinion in the country, that it is going backwards; an opinion 
+which I apprehend, isill-founded, even with regard to France, but 
+which nobody can possibly entertain with regard to Scotland, who 
+sees the country now, and who saw it twenty or thirty years ago. 
+The province of Holland, on theother hand, in proportion to 
+the extent of its territory and the number of its people, is a richer 
+country than England. The government there borrow at two per 
+cent, and private people of good credit at three. The wages of 
+labour are said to be higher in Holland than in England, and the 
+Dutch, it is well known, trade upon lower prof its than any people 
+in Europe. The trade of Holland, it has been pretended by some 
+people, is decaying, and it may perhaps be truethat some particu- 
+
+
+
+lar branches of it are so; but these symptoms seem to indicate 
+sufficiently that there is no general decay. When profit dimin- 
+ishes, merchants are very apt to complain that trade decays, though 
+thediminution of profit is the natural effect of its prosperity, or of 
+a greater stock being employed in it than before. D uring the late 
+war, theD utch gained thewholecarryingtradeof France, of which 
+they still retain a very large share. T he great property which they 
+possess both in French and English funds, about forty millions, it 
+issaid in thelatter (in which, I suspect, however, there is a consid- 
+erable exaggeration ), the great sums which they lend to private 
+people, in countries where the rate of interest is higher than in 
+their own, are circumstances which no doubt demonstrate the re- 
+dundancy of theirstock, or that it hasincreased beyond what they 
+can employ with tolerable profit in the proper business of their 
+own country; but they do not demonstrate that that business has 
+decreased. As the capital of a private man, though acquired by a 
+particular trade, may increase beyond what he can employ in it, 
+and yet that trade continue to increase too, so may likewise the 
+capital of a great nation. 
+
+In our North American and West Indian colonies, not only the 
+wages of labour, but the interest of money, and consequently the 
+profits of stock, are higher than in England. In the different colo- 
+nies, both the legal and the market rate of interest run from six to 
+
+
+
+80 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+eight percent. H igh wages of labour and high profits of stock, 
+however, are things, perhaps, which scarce ever go together, ex- 
+cept in thepeculiar circumstances of new colonies A new colony 
+must always, for sometime, be more understocked in proportion 
+to the extent of its territory, and moreunderpeopled in propor- 
+tion to the extent of its stock, than the greater part of other coun- 
+tries. T hey have more land than they have stock to cultivate. W hat 
+they have, therefore, is applied to the cultivation only of what is 
+most fertile and most favourably situated, the land near the sea- 
+shore, and along the banks of navigable rivers. Such land, too, is 
+frequently purchased at a price below thevalueeven of its natural 
+produce. Stock employed in the purchase and improvement of 
+such lands, must yield a very large profit, and, consequently, af- 
+ford to pay a very large interest. Its rapid accumulation in so prof- 
+itablean employment enables the planter to increase the number 
+of his hands faster than he can find them in a new settlement. 
+Those whom he can find, therefore, are very liberally rewarded. 
+As the colony increases, the profits of stock gradually diminish. 
+When the most fertile and best situated lands have been all occu- 
+pied, less profit can be made by the cultivation of what is inferior 
+both in soil and situation, and I ess interest can be afforded for the 
+stock which is so employed. In the greater part of our colonies, 
+accordingly, both the legal and the market rate of interest have 
+
+
+
+been considerably reduced during the course of the present cen- 
+tury. Asriches, improvement, and population, have increased, in- 
+terest hasdeclined. T he wagesof labour do not sink with the prof- 
+its of stock. T he demand for labour increases with the increase of 
+stock, whatever be its profits; and after these are diminished, stock 
+may not only continueto increase, but to increase much faster than 
+before. It iswith industrious nations, who are advancing in theac- 
+quisition of riches, as with industrious individuals. A great stock, 
+though with small profits, generally increases faster than a small 
+stock with great profits. M oney, says the proverb, makes money. 
+W hen you have got a little, it is often easy to get more. T he great 
+difficulty is to get that little. The connection between the increase 
+of stock and that of industry, or of the demand for useful labour, 
+has partly been explained already, but will be explained more fully 
+hereafter, in treating of the accumulation of stock. 
+
+The acquisition of new territory, or of new branches of trade, 
+may sometimes raise theprofitsof stock, and with them theinter- 
+est of money, even in a country which is fast advancing in the 
+acquisition of riches. The stock of the country, not being suffi- 
+cient for the whole accession of business which such acquisitions 
+present to the different people among whom it is divided, is ap- 
+plied to those particular branches only which afford the greatest 
+profit. Part of what had before been employed in other trades, is 
+
+
+
+81 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+necessarily withdrawn from them, and turned into some of the 
+new and more profitable ones. In all those old trades, therefore, 
+the competition comes to be J ess than before. The market comes 
+to be less fully supplied with many different sorts of goods. T heir 
+price necessarily rises more or less, and yields a greater profit to 
+those who deal in them, who can, therefore, afford to borrow at a 
+higher interest. Forsometimeaftertheconclusionofthelatewar, 
+not only private people of the best credit, but some of the greatest 
+companiesin London, commonly borrowed at five per cent, who, 
+before that, had not been used to pay more than four, and four 
+and a half per cent. T hegreat accession both of territory and trade 
+by our acquisitions in North America and the West Indies, will 
+sufficiently account for this, without supposing any diminution 
+in the capital stock of the society. So great an accession of new 
+business to be carried on by the old stock, must necessarily have 
+diminished thequantity employed in agreatnumber of particular 
+branches, in which the competition being less, the profits must 
+have been greater. I shall hereafter have occasion to mention the 
+reasonswhichdisposemeto believe that thecapital stock of Great 
+Britain wasnot diminished, even by the enormous expense of the 
+late war. 
+
+The diminution of the capital stock of the society, or of the 
+fundsdestined for the maintenance of industry, however, asitlowers 
+
+
+
+the wages of labour, so it raises the profits of stock, and conse- 
+quently the interest of money. By the wages of labour being low- 
+ered, the owners of what stock remains in the society can bring 
+their goods at less expense to market than before; and less stock 
+being employed in supplying the market than before, they can sell 
+them dearer. Their goods cost them less, and they get more for 
+them. Their profits, therefore, being augmented at both ends, can 
+well afford a large interest. The great fortunes so suddenly and so 
+easily acquired in Bengal and the other British settlements in the 
+East Indies, may satisfy us, that as the wages of labour are very 
+low, so theprofits of stock are very high in those ruined countries. 
+The interest of money isproportionably so. In Bengal, money is 
+frequently lenttothefarmersatforty, fifty, and sixty percent, and 
+the succeeding crop is mortgaged for the payment. As the profits 
+which can afford such an interest must eat up almost the whole 
+rent of the landlord, so such enormous usury must in its turn eat 
+up the greater part of those profits. Before the fall of the Roman 
+republic, a usury of thesamekind seemsto have been common in 
+the provinces, under the ruinous administration of their procon- 
+suls. The virtuous Brutus lent money in Cyprusateight-and-forty 
+per cent, as we learn from the letters of C icero. 
+
+I n a country which had acquired that full complement of riches 
+which the nature of its soil and climate, and its situation with 
+
+
+
+82 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+respect to other countries, allowed it to acquire, which could, there- 
+fore, advance no further, and which was not going backwards, 
+both the wages of labour and the profits of stock would probably 
+be very low. In a country fully peopled in proportion to what 
+either itsterritory could maintain, or its stock employ, thecompe- 
+tition for employment would necessarily be so great as to reduce 
+the wages of labour to what was barely sufficient to keep up the 
+number of labourers, and thecountry being already fully peopled, 
+th atnumber could never be augmented. In acountry fully stocked 
+in proportion to all the business it had to transact, asgreat a quan- 
+tity of stock would be employed in every particular branch as the 
+nature and extent of the trade would admit. The competition, 
+therefore, would everywhere be as great, and, consequently, the 
+ordinary profit as low as possible. 
+
+But, perhaps, no country has ever yet arrived at this degree of 
+opulence. China seemsto have been long stationary, and had, prob- 
+ably, long ago acquired that full complement of riches which is 
+consistent with the nature of its laws and institutions. But this 
+complement may be much inferior to what, with other laws and 
+institutions, the nature of its soil, climate, and situation, might 
+admit of. A country which neglects or despises foreign commerce, 
+and which admits the vessel of foreign nationsintooneortwoof 
+its ports only, cannot transact the same quantity of business which 
+
+
+
+it might do with different laws and institutions. I n a country, too, 
+where, though the rich, or the owners of large capitals, enjoy a 
+good deal of security, the poor, or the owners of small capitals, 
+enjoy scarce any, but areliable, under thepretenceof justice, to be 
+pillaged and plundered at anytime by theinferior mandarins, the 
+quantity of stock employed in all the different branches of busi- 
+ness transacted within it, can never be equal to what the nature 
+and extent of that business might admit. I n every different branch, 
+the oppression of the poor must establish the monopoly of the 
+rich, who, by engrossing the whole trade to themselves, will be 
+able to make very large profits. Twelve per cent, accordingly, is 
+said tobethecommon interest of money in China, and theordi- 
+nary profitsof stock must be sufficient to afford thislargeinterest. 
+A defect in the law may sometimes raise the rate of interest con- 
+siderably above what thecondition of thecountry, as to wealth or 
+poverty, would require. W hen the law does not enforce the per- 
+formance of contracts, it puts all borrowers nearly upon the same 
+footing with bankrupts, or people of doubtful credit, in better 
+regu I ated cou n tri es. T h e u n certai n ty of recoveri n g h i s m on ey m akes 
+the lender exact the same usurious interest which is usually re- 
+quired from bankrupts. Among the barbarous nations who over- 
+ran thewestern provincesof theRoman empire, the performance 
+of contracts was left for many ages to the faith of the contracting 
+
+
+
+83 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+parties. T he courts of justice of their kings seldom intermeddled 
+in it. T he high rate of interest which took place in those ancient 
+times, may, perhaps, be partly accounted for from this cause. 
+
+When the law prohibits interest altogether, it does not prevent 
+it. M any peoplemust borrow, and nobody will lend without such 
+a consideration for the use of their money as is suitable, not only 
+to what can be made by the use of it, but to the difficulty and 
+danger of evading the law. The high rate of interest among all 
+M ahometan nations is accounted for by M . M ontesquieu, not 
+from their poverty, but partly from this, and partly from the diffi- 
+culty of recovering the money. 
+
+The lowest ordinary rate of profit must always be something 
+more than what is sufficient to compensate the occasional losses 
+to which every employment of stock is exposed. It is this surplus 
+only which is neat or clear profit. W hat is called gross profit, com- 
+prehends frequently not only thissurplus, but what isretained for 
+compensating such extraordinary losses. The interest which the 
+borrower can afford to pay is in proportion to the clear profit 
+only. Thelowest ordinary rate of interest must, in thesame man- 
+ner, be something more than sufficient to compensate the occa- 
+sional losses to which lending, even with tolerable prudence, is 
+exposed. Were it not, mere charity or friendship could be theonly 
+motivesfor lending. 
+
+
+
+In a country which had acquired its full complement of riches, 
+where, in every particular branch of business, there was the great- 
+est quantity of stock that could be employed in it, astheordinary 
+rate of clear profit would be very small, so theusual market rate of 
+interest which could be afforded out of it would be so low as to 
+render it impossiblefor any but the very wealthiest peopleto live 
+upon the interest of their money. All peopleof small or middling 
+fortunes would be obliged to superintend themselves the employ- 
+ment of their own stocks. It would be necessary that almost every 
+man should be a man of business, or engage in some sort of trade. 
+The province of H olland seems to be approaching near to this 
+state. Itisthereunfashionablenottobeaman of business. Neces- 
+sity makes it usual for almost every man to be so, and custom 
+everywhere regulates fash ion. As it is ridiculous not to dress, so is 
+it, in some measure, not to be employed like other people. As a 
+man of a civil profession seems awkward in a camp or a garrison, 
+andiseven in some danger of being despised there, so does an idle 
+man among men of business. 
+
+The highest ordinary rate of profit may be such as, in the price 
+of the greater part of commodities, eats up the whole of what 
+should go to the rent of the land, and leaves only what issufficient 
+to pay the labour of preparing and bringing them to market, ac- 
+cording to the lowest rate at which labour can anywhere be paid, 
+
+
+
+84 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+the bare subsistence of the labourer. T he workman must always 
+have been fed in some way or other whilehewas about the work, 
+but the landlord may not always have been paid. The profits of 
+the trade which the servants of the East I ndia C ompany carry on 
+in Bengal may not, perhaps, be very far from this rate. 
+
+T heproportion which the usual market rateof interest ought to 
+bear to theordinary rateof clear profit, necessarily varies as profit 
+rises or falls. D ouble interest is in G reat Britain reckoned what the 
+merchants call a good, moderate, reasonable profit; terms which, 
+I apprehend, mean no more than a common and usual profit. In 
+a country where the ordinary rateof clear profit is eight or ten per 
+cent, it may be reasonablethat one half of it should go to interest, 
+wherever business is carried on with borrowed money. The stock 
+is at the risk of the borrower, who, as it were, insures it to the 
+lender; and four or five per cent, may, in the greater part of trades, 
+be both a sufficient profit upon the risk of this insurance, and a 
+sufficient recompenceforthetroubleofemployingthestock. But 
+the proportion between interest and clear profit might not be the 
+same in countries where the ordinary rate of profit was either a 
+good deal lower, or a good deal higher. If it were a good deal 
+lower, one half of it, perhaps, could not be afforded for interest; 
+and more might be afforded if it were a good deal higher. 
+
+In countries which are fast advancing to riches, the low rateof 
+
+
+
+profit may, in the price of many commodities, compensate the 
+high wages of labour, and enablethose countries to sell as cheap as 
+their less thriving neighbours, among whom the wagesof labour 
+may be lower. 
+
+In reality, high profits tend much more to raise the price of 
+work than high wages. If, in the linen manufacture, for example, 
+the wages of the different working people, the flax-dressers, the 
+spinners, theweavers, etc. should all of them be advanced twopence 
+a-day, it would be necessary to heighten the price of a piece of 
+linen only by a number of twopences equal to thenumber of people 
+that had been employed about it, multiplied by the number of 
+days during which they had been so employed. That part of the 
+priceof thecommodity which resolved itself into the wages, would, 
+through all the different stages of the manufacture, rise only in 
+arithmetical proportion to this rise of wages. But if the profits of 
+all the different employers of thoseworking peopleshould be raised 
+five per cent, that part of the price of the commodity which re- 
+solved itself into profit would, through all the different stages of 
+themanufacture, risein geometrical proportion to thisriseof profit. 
+Theemployerof theflaxdresserswould, in selling hisflax, require 
+an additional five per cent, upon thewholevalueof thematerials 
+and wages which he advanced to his workmen. Theemployerof 
+thespinners would require an additional five per cent, both upon 
+
+
+
+85 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+the advanced price of the flax, and upon the wages of the spin- 
+ners. And theemployer of theweavers would require alikefiveper 
+cent, both upon the advanced price of the linen-yarn, and upon 
+the wages of theweavers. In raising the price of commodities, the 
+rise of wages operates in the same manner as simple interest does 
+in the accumulation of debt. T he rise of profit operates like com- 
+pound interest. Our merchants and master manufacturers com- 
+plain much of the bad effects of high wages in raising the price, 
+and thereby lessening the sale of their goods, both at home and 
+abroad. They saynothingconcerningthebad effects of high prof- 
+its; they are silent with regard to the pernicious effects of their 
+own gains; they complain only of those of other people. 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X 
+
+OF WAGES AND PROFIT IN THE DIF- 
+FERENT EMPLOYMENTSOF LABOUR 
+AND STOCK 
+
+The whole of the advantages and di sad vantages of the different 
+employments of labour and stock, must, in the same 
+neighbourhood, be either perfectly equal, or continually tending 
+to equality. If, in thesameneighbourhood,therewasany employ- 
+ment evidently either more or less advantageous than the rest, so 
+many people would crowd into it in the one case, and so many 
+would desert it in theother, that its advantages would soon return 
+tothelevel of other employments. This, at least, would bethecase 
+in a society where things were left to follow their natural course, 
+where there was perfect liberty, and where every man was per- 
+fectly free both to choose what occupation he thought proper, 
+and to change it as of ten as he thought proper. Every man's inter- 
+est would prompt him to seek the advantageous, and to shun the 
+disadvantageous employment. 
+
+Pecuniary wages and profit, indeed, are everywhere in Europe 
+extremely different, according to the different employments of 
+labour and stock. But this difference arises, partly from certain 
+
+
+
+86 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+circumstances in the employments themselves, which, either re- 
+ally, or at least in the imagination of men, make up for a small 
+pecuniary gain in some, and counterbalance a great one in others, 
+and partly from the policy of Europe, which nowhere I eaves things 
+at perfect liberty. 
+
+Theparticular consideration of those circumstances, and of that 
+policy, will divide this Chapter into two parts. 
+
+PART I. Inequalitiesarisingfromthenatureoftheemployments 
+themselves. 
+
+Thefive following are the principal circumstanceswhich,sofar 
+as I have been able to observe, make up for a small pecuniary gain 
+in some employments, and counterbalance a great one in others. 
+First, the agreeableness or disagreeableness of the employments 
+themselves; secondly, the easiness and cheapness, or the difficulty 
+and expense of learning them; thirdly, the constancy or incon- 
+stancy of employment in them; fourthly, the small or great trust 
+which must be reposed in those who exercise them; and, fifthly, 
+the probability or improbability of success in them. 
+
+First, the wages of labour vary with the ease or hardship, the 
+cleanliness or dirtiness, thehonourablen ess or dishonourableness, 
+of the employment. Thus in most places, take the year round, a 
+journeyman tailor earns less than ajourneyman weaver. H iswork 
+
+
+
+is much easier. A journeyman weaver earns less than a journey- 
+man smith. His work is not always easier, but it is much cleanlier. 
+A journeyman blacksmith, though an artificer, seldom earns so 
+much in twelve hours, as a collier, who is only a labourer, does in 
+eight. His work is not quite so dirty, is less dangerous, and is car- 
+ried on in day-light, and above ground. H onour makes a great 
+part of the reward of all honourable professions. I n point of pecu- 
+niary gain, all things considered, they are generally under-recom- 
+pensed, as I shall endeavour to shew by and by. D isgrace has the 
+contrary effect. T he trade of a butcher is a brutal and an odious 
+business; butitisin most places more profitable than thegreater 
+part of common trades. T he most detestable of all employments, 
+that of public executioner, is, in proportion to the quantity of 
+work done, better paid than any common trade whatever. 
+
+Hunting and fishing, themost important employmentsof man- 
+kind in the rude state of society, become, in its advanced state, 
+their most agreeable amusements, and they pursue for pleasure 
+what they once foil owed from necessity. In the advanced state of 
+society, therefore, they are all very poor people who follow as a 
+trade, what other peoplepursueasa pastime. Fishermen have been 
+so si nee the time of Theocritus. -{See Idyllium xxi.}. A poacher is 
+everywhere a very poor man in Great Britain. In countries where 
+the rigour of the law suffers no poachers, the licensed hunter is 
+
+
+
+87 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+not in a much better condition. The natural taste for those em- 
+ployments makes more people follow them, than can live com- 
+fortably by them; and the produce of their labour, in proportion 
+to its quantity, comes always too cheap to market, to afford any 
+thing but the most scanty subsistence to the labourers. 
+
+D isagreeableness and disgrace affect the profits of stock in the 
+same manner as the wages of labour. The keeper of an inn or 
+tavern, who is never master of his own house, and who isexposed 
+to the brutality of every drunkard, exercises neither a very agree- 
+able nor a very creditable business. But there is scarce any com- 
+mon trade in which a small stock yields so great a profit. 
+
+Secondly, the wages of labour vary with the easi ness and cheap- 
+ness, or the difficulty and expense, of learning the business. 
+
+W hen any expensive machine is erected, the extraordinary work 
+to be performed by it before it is worn out, it must be expected, 
+will replace the capital laid out upon it, with at least the ordinary 
+profits. A man educated at the expense of much labour and time 
+to any of those employments which require extraordinary dexter- 
+ity and skill, may be compared to one of those expensive ma- 
+chines. The work which helearnsto perform, itmust be expected, 
+over and above theusual wages of common labour, will replace to 
+himthewholeexpenseof hiseducation, with at least theordinary 
+profits of an equally valuable capital. It must do thistoo in a rea- 
+
+
+
+sonable time, regard being had to the very uncertain duration of 
+human life, in thesamemannerastothemore certain duration of 
+the machine. 
+
+The difference between the wages of skilled labour and those of 
+common labour, is founded upon this principle. 
+
+The policy of Europe considers the labour of all mechanics, 
+artificers, and manufacturers, as skilled labour; and that of all coun- 
+try labourers us common labour. It seems to suppose that of the 
+former to be of a more nice and delicate nature than that of the 
+latter. It is so perhaps in some cases; but in the greater part it is 
+quite otherwise, as I shall endeavour to shew by and by. The laws 
+and customs of Europe, therefore, in order to qualify any person 
+for exercising theonespecies of labour, impose the necessity of an 
+apprenticeship, though with different degrees of rigour in differ- 
+ent places. T hey leave the other free and open to every body. D ur- 
+ingthecontinuanceof theapprenticeship, the whole labour of the 
+apprentice belongs to his master. In the meantime he must, in 
+many cases, be maintained by his parents or relations, and, in 
+almost all cases, must be clothed by them. Some money, too, is 
+commonly given to the master for teaching him his trade. They 
+who cannot give money, give time, or become bound for more 
+than theusual number of years; a consideration which, though it 
+is not always advantageous to the master, on account of the usual 
+
+
+
+88 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+idleness of apprentices, is always disadvantageous to the appren- 
+tice. In country labour, on the contrary, the labourer, while he is 
+employed about the easier, learns the more difficult parts of his 
+business, and his own labour maintains him through all the dif- 
+ferent stages of hisemployment. It is reasonable, therefore, that in 
+Europe the wages of mechanics, artificers, and manufacturers, 
+should besomewhat higher than thoseof common labourers. They 
+are so accordingly, and their superior gains make them, in most 
+places, be considered as a superior rank of people. This superior- 
+ity, however, is generally very small: the daily or weekly earnings 
+of journeymen in the more common sorts of manufactures, such 
+as those of plain linen and woollen cloth, computed at an average, 
+are, in most places, very little more than the day-wages of com- 
+mon labourers. Their employment, indeed, is more steady and 
+uniform, and the superiority of their earnings, taking the whole 
+year together, may be somewhat greater. It seems evidently, how- 
+ever, to be no greater than what is sufficient to compensate the 
+superior expense of their education. Education in the ingenious 
+arts, and in theliberal professions, isstill moretediousand expen- 
+sive. The pecuniary recompence, therefore, of painters and sculp- 
+tors, of lawyers and physicians, ought to be much more liberal; 
+and it is so accordingly. 
+T he profits of stock seem to be very little affected by the easi- 
+
+
+
+nessor difficulty of learning thetradein which it is employed. All 
+thedifferent waysin which stock is commonly employed in great 
+townsseem, in reality, to be almost equally easy and equally diffi- 
+cult to learn. One branch, either of foreign or domestic trade, 
+cannot well be a much more intricate business than another. 
+
+Thirdly, the wages of labour in different occupations vary with 
+the constancy or inconstancy of employment. 
+
+Employment is much more constant in some trades than in 
+others. In the greater part of manufactures, a journeyman maybe 
+pretty sure of employment almost every day in the year that he is 
+able to work. A mason or bricklayer, on the contrary, can work 
+neither in hard frost nor in foul weather, and hisemployment at 
+all other timesdependsupon theoccasional callsof hiscustomers. 
+He is liable, in consequence, to be frequently without any. What 
+heearns, therefore, whileheisemployed, must not only maintain 
+him while he is idle, but make him some compensation for those 
+anxious and desponding moments which the thought of so pre- 
+cariousasituation must sometimes occasion. W here thecomputed 
+earnings of the greater part of manufacturers, accordingly, arenearly 
+upon a level with the day-wages of common labourers, those of 
+masonsand bricklayers aregenerally from one-half more to double 
+those wages. Where common labourers earn four or five shillings 
+a-week, masonsand bricklayers frequently earn seven and eight; 
+
+
+
+89 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+where the former earn six, thelatter often earn nineand ten; and 
+where theformer earn nineand ten, as in London, thelatter com- 
+monly earn fifteen and eighteen. No species of ski I led labour, how- 
+ever, seems more easy to learn than that of masons and bricklay- 
+ers. Chairmen in London, during the summer season, are said 
+sometimes to be employed as bricklayers. The high wagesof those 
+workmen, therefore, arenot so much therecompenceof their skill, 
+as the compensation for the inconstancy of their employment. 
+
+A house-carpenter seems to exercise rather a nicer and a more 
+ingenious trade than a mason. In most places, however, for it is 
+not universally so, his day-wages are somewhat lower. H is em- 
+ployment, though it depends much, does not depend so entirely 
+upon theoccasional calls of hiscustomers; and it isnot liableto be 
+interrupted by the weather. 
+
+When the trades which generally afford constant employment, 
+happen in a particular place not to do so, the wages of the work- 
+men always rise a good deal above their ordinary proportion to 
+those of common labour. In London, almost all journeymen arti- 
+ficers are liable to be called upon and dismissed by their masters 
+from day to day, and from week to week, in the same manner as 
+day-labourers in other places. T he lowest order of artificers, jour- 
+neymen tailors, accordingly, earn their half-a-crown a-day, though 
+eighteen pence may be reckoned the wages of common labour. In 
+
+
+
+small townsand country villages, the wagesof journeymen tailors 
+frequently scarce equal those of common labour; but in London 
+theyareoften many weeks without employment, particularly dur- 
+ing the summer. 
+
+When the inconstancy of employment is combined with the 
+hardship, disagreeableness, and dirtiness of thework, it sometimes 
+raises the wages of the most common labour above those of the 
+most skilful artificers. A collier working by the piece is supposed, 
+at N ewcastle, to earn commonly about double, and, in manyparts 
+of Scotland, about three times, the wages of common labour. H is 
+high wages arise altogether from the hardship, disagreeableness, 
+and dirtinessof his work. H is employment may, upon most occa- 
+sions, be as constant as he pleases. The coal-heavers in London 
+exercise a trade which, in hardship, dirtiness, and disagreeable- 
+ness, almost equals that of colliers; and, from the unavoidable ir- 
+regularity in thearrivalsof coal-ships, theemployment of thegreater 
+part of them is necessarily very inconstant. If colliers, therefore, 
+commonly earn doubleandtriplethewagesof common labour, it 
+ought not to seem unreasonable that coal-heavers should some- 
+times earn four and five times those wages. In the inquiry made 
+into their condition a few years ago, it was found that, at the rate 
+at which they were then paid, they could earn from six to ten 
+shillings a-day. Six shillings are about four times the wages of com- 
+
+
+
+90 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+mon labour in London; and, in every particular trade, the lowest 
+common earnings may always be considered as those of the far 
+greater number. H ow extravagant soever those earnings may ap- 
+pear, if they were more than sufficient to compensate all the dis- 
+agreeable circumstances of the business, there would soon be so 
+great a number of competitors, as, in a trade which has no exclu- 
+sive privilege, would quickly reduce them to a lower rate. 
+
+T heconstancy or inconstancy of employment cannot affect the 
+ordinary profitsof stock in any particular trade. W hether thestock 
+isor isnot constantly employed, depends, not upon thetrade, but 
+the trader. 
+
+Fourthly, the wages of labour vary according to the small or 
+great trust which must be reposed in the workmen. 
+
+T he wages of goldsmiths and jewellers are everywhere superior 
+to those of many other workmen, not only of equal, but of much 
+superior ingenuity, on account of the precious materials with which 
+they are entrusted. Wetrust our health to the physician, our for- 
+tune, and sometimes our life and reputation, to the lawyer and 
+attorney. Such confidence could not safely be reposed in peopleof 
+a very mean or low condition. Their reward must be such, there- 
+fore, as may give them that rank in the society which so important 
+a trust requires. T he long time and the great expense which must 
+belaid out in their education, when combined with this circum- 
+
+
+
+stance, necessarily enhance still further thepriceof their labour. 
+
+When aperson employs only hisown stock in trade, there is no 
+trust; and the credit which he may get from other people, de- 
+pends, not upon the nature of thetrade, but upon their opinion 
+of hisfortune, probity and prudence. The different rates of profit, 
+therefore, in thedifferent branches of trade, can not arise from the 
+different degrees of trust reposed in the traders. 
+
+Fifthly, the wages of labour in different employments vary ac- 
+cording to the probability or improbability of success in them. 
+
+The probability that any particular person shall ever be quali- 
+fied fortheemploym en tsto which heiseducated, isvery different 
+in different occupations. In the greatest part of mechanic trades 
+success is almost certain; but very uncertain in the liberal profes- 
+sions. Putyourson apprentice to ashoemaker, thereislittledoubt 
+of his learning to make a pair of shoes; but send him to study the 
+law, it as at least twenty to oneif heever makes such proficiency as 
+will enable him to live by the business. In a perfectly fair lottery, 
+those who draw the prizes ought to gain all that is lost by those 
+who draw the blanks. In a profession, where twenty fail for one 
+that succeeds, that one ought to gain all that should have been 
+gained by the unsuccessful twenty. The counsellor at law, who, 
+perhaps, at near forty years of age, begins to make something by 
+his profession, ought to receive the retribution, not only of his 
+
+
+
+91 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+own so tedious and expensive education, but of that of more than 
+twenty others, whoareneverlikdytomakeanythingbyit. How 
+extravagant soever the fees of counsellors at law may sometimes 
+appear, their real retribution is never equal to this. Compute, in 
+any particular place, what islikely to be annually gained, and what 
+is likely to be annually spent, by all the different workmen in any 
+common trade, such as that of shoemakers or weavers, and you 
+will find that the former sum will generally exceed the latter. But 
+makethesamecomputation with regard to all the counsellors and 
+students of law, in all the different Inns of Court, and you will 
+find that their annual gains bear but a very small proportion to 
+their annual expense, even though you rate the former as high, 
+and the latter as low, as can well be done. T he lottery of the law, 
+therefore, isvery far from being a perfectly fair lottery; and that as 
+well as many other liberal and honourable professions, is, in point 
+of pecuniary gain, evidently under-recompensed. 
+
+Those professions keep their level, however, with other occupa- 
+tions; and, notwithstanding these discouragements, all the most 
+generous and liberal spirits are eager to crowd into them. Two 
+different causes contribute to recommend them. First, the desire 
+of the reputation which attends upon superior excellence in any 
+of them; and, secondly, the natural confidence which every man 
+has, more or less, not only in his own abilities, but in his own 
+
+
+
+good fortune. 
+
+To excel in any profession, in which but few arrive at medioc- 
+rity, itisthe most decisive mark of what iscalled genius, or supe- 
+rior talents The public admiration which attends upon such dis- 
+tinguished abilities makes always a part of their reward; a greater 
+or smaller, in proportion asit ishigher or lower in degree. It makes 
+a considerable part of that reward in the profession of physic; a 
+still greater, perhaps, in that of law; in poetry and philosophy it 
+makes almost the whole. 
+
+T here are some very agreeable and beautiful talents, of which 
+thepossession commands a certain sort of admiration, but of which 
+theexercise, for the sake of gain, isconsidered, whether from rea- 
+son or prejudice, as a sort of public prostitution. The pecuniary 
+recompence, therefore, of those who exercise them in this man- 
+ner, must be sufficient, not only to pay for the time, labour, and 
+expense of acquiring the talents, but for the discredit which at- 
+tends the employment of them as the means of subsistence. T he 
+exorbitant rewards of players, opera-singers, opera-dancers, etc. 
+are founded upon those two principles; the rarity and beauty of 
+thetalents, andthediscreditofemployingtheminthismanner. It 
+seems absurd at first sight, that we should despise their persons, 
+and yet reward their talents with themost profuse liberality. W hile 
+wedotheone, however, we must of necessity do theother, Should 
+
+
+
+92 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+the public opinion or prejudice ever alter with regard to such oc- 
+cupations, their pecuniary recompence would quickly diminish. 
+M ore people would apply to them, and the competition would 
+quickly reduce the price of their labour. Such talents, though far 
+from being common, are by no means so rare as imagined. Many 
+people possess them in great perfection, who disdain to makethis 
+use of them; and many more are capable of acquiring them, if any 
+thing could be made honourably by them. 
+
+T heover-weening conceit which thegreater part of men haveof 
+their own abilities, isan ancient evil remarked bythephilosophers 
+and moralists of all ages. Their absurd presumption in their own 
+good fortune has been less taken notice of. It is, however, if pos- 
+sible, still more universal. There is no man living, who, when in 
+tolerable health and spirits, has not some share of it. The chance 
+of gain is by every man more or less over-valued, and the chance 
+of loss is by most men under-valued, and by scarce any man, who 
+is in tolerable health and spirits, valued more than it is worth. 
+
+That the chance of gain is naturally overvalued, we may learn 
+from the universal success of lotteries. The world neither ever saw, 
+nor ever will see, a perfectly fair lottery, oronein which thewhole 
+gain compensated the whole loss; because the undertaker could 
+make nothing by it. I n the state lotteries, the tickets are really not 
+worth the price which is paid by the original subscribers, and yet 
+
+
+
+commonly sell in the market for twenty, thirty, and sometimes 
+forty per cent, advance. The vain hopes of gaining some of the 
+great prizes is the sole cause of this demand. T he soberest people 
+scarce look upon it as a folly to pay a small sum for the chance of 
+gaining ten or twenty thousand pounds, though they know that 
+even that small sum is perhaps twenty or thirty per cent, more 
+than the chance is worth. In a lottery in which no prize exceeded 
+twenty pounds, though in other respects it approached much nearer 
+to a perfectly faironethan thecommon state lotteries, therewould 
+not be the same demand for tickets. In order to have a better 
+chance for some of the great prizes, some people purchase several 
+tickets; and others, small shares in a still greater number. There is 
+not, however, a more certain proposition in mathematics, than 
+that the more ticketsyou ad ventureupon, themorelikelyyou are 
+to bea loser. Adventure upon all theticketsin the lottery, and you 
+lose for certain; and the greater the number of your tickets, the 
+nearer you approach to this certainty. 
+
+That the chance of loss is frequently undervalued, and scarce 
+ever valued more than it is worth, we may learn from the very 
+moderate profit of insurers. In order to make insurance, either 
+from fire or sea- risk, a trade at all, thecommon premium must be 
+sufficient to compensate the common losses, to pay the expense 
+of management, and to afford such a profit as might have been 
+
+
+
+93 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+drawn from an equal capital employed in any common trade. The 
+person who pays no more than this, evidently pays no more than 
+the real value of the risk, or the lowest price at which he can rea- 
+sonably expect to insure it. But though many people have made a 
+little money by insurance, very few have made a great fortune; 
+and, from this consideration alone, it seems evident enough that 
+the ordinary balance of profit and loss is not more advantageous 
+in this than in other common trades, by which so many people 
+make fortunes. M oderate, however, as the premium of insurance 
+commonly is, many people despise the risk too much to care to 
+pay it. Taking the whole kingdom at an average, nineteen houses 
+in twenty, or rather, perhaps, ninety-nine in a hundred, are not 
+insured from fire. Sea-risk is more alarming to the greater part of 
+people; and the proportion of ships insured to those not insured is 
+much greater. M any sail, however, at all seasons, and even in time 
+of war, without any insurance. T his may sometimes, perhaps, be 
+done without any imprudence. W hen a great company, or even a 
+great merchant, has twenty or thirty ships at sea, they may, as it 
+were, insure oneanother. The premium saved up on them all may 
+more than compensate such losses as they are likely to meet with 
+in the common course of chances. T he neglect of insurance upon 
+shipping, however, in thesamemannerasupon houses, is, in most 
+cases, the effect of no such nice calculation, but of mere thought- 
+
+
+
+less rashness, and presumptuous contempt of the risk. 
+
+T he contempt of risk, and the presumptuous hope of success, 
+arein no period of life more active than at theage at which young 
+people choose their professions. H ow littlethefear of misfortune 
+is then capable of balancing the hope of good luck, appears still 
+more evidently in the readiness of the common people to enlist as 
+soldiers, or to go to sea, than in the eagerness of those of better 
+fashion to enter into what are called the liberal professions. 
+
+W hat a common soldier may lose is obvious enough. W ithout 
+regarding the danger, however, young volunteers never enlist so 
+readily as at the beginning of a new war; and though they have 
+scarce any chance of preferment, they figure to them selves, in their 
+youthful fancies, a thousand occasions of acquiring honour and 
+distinction which never occur. These romantic hopes make the 
+whole price of their blood. T heir pay is less than that of common 
+labourers, and, in actual service, their fatigues are much greater. 
+
+The lottery of the sea is not altogether so disadvantageous as 
+that of the army. T he son of a creditable labourer or artificer may 
+frequently go to sea with hisfather's consent; but if he enlists as a 
+soldier, it is always without it. ther people see some chance of 
+his making something by theonetrade; nobody but himself sees 
+any of his making any thing by the other. Thegreat admiral is less 
+the object of public admiration than the great general; and the 
+
+
+
+94 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+highest success in the sea service promises a less brilliant fortune 
+and reputation than equal success in the land. The same differ- 
+ence runs through all the inferior degrees of preferment in both. 
+By the rules of precedency, a captain in the navy ranks with a 
+colonel in the army; but he does not rank with him in the com- 
+mon estimation. As the great prizes in the lottery are I ess, the smaller 
+ones must be more numerous. Common sailors, therefore, more 
+frequently get some fortune and preferment than common sol- 
+diers; and thehope of thoseprizesiswhatprinci pally recommends 
+the trade. Though their skill and dexterity are much superior to 
+that of almost any artificers; and though their whole life is one 
+continual scene of hardship and danger; yet for all this dexterity 
+and skill, for all thosehardshipsand dangers, whilethey remain in 
+the condition of common sailors, they receive scarce any other 
+recompence but the pleasure of exercising the one and of sur- 
+mounting the other. Their wages are not greater than those of 
+common labourers at theport which regulates therate of seamen's 
+wages. Asthey arecontinuallygoingfrom port to port, themonthly 
+pay of those who sail from all the different ports of Great Britain, 
+is more nearly upon a level than that of any other workmen in 
+those different places; and the rate of the port to and from which 
+the greatest number sail, that is, the port of London, regulates 
+that of all the rest. At London, the wages of thegreater part of the 
+
+
+
+different classes of workmen are about double those of the same 
+classes at Edinburgh. But the sailors who sail from the port of 
+London, seldom earn above three or four shillingsa month more 
+than those who sail from the port of Leith, and the difference is 
+frequently not so great. In time of peace, and in the merchant- 
+service, the London price is from a guinea to about seven-and- 
+twenty shillings thecalendar month. A common labourer in Lon- 
+don, at the rate of nine or ten shillings a week, may earn in the 
+calendar month from forty to five-and-forty shillings. The sailor, 
+indeed, over and above his pay, issupplied with provisions. Their 
+value, however, may not perhaps always exceed the difference be- 
+tween his pay and that of the common labourer; and though it 
+sometimes should, the excess will not be clear gain to the sailor, 
+because he cannot share it with his wife and family, whom he 
+must maintain out of his wages at home. 
+
+The dangers and hair-breadth escapes of a life of adventures, 
+instead of disheartening young people, seem frequently to recom- 
+mend a trade to them. A tender mother, among the inferior ranks 
+of people, is often afraid to send her son to school at a sea-port 
+town, I est the sight of the ships, and the conversation and adven- 
+tures of the sailors, should entice him to go to sea. The distant 
+prospect of hazards, from which we can hope to extricate our- 
+selves by courage and address, is not disagreeable to us, and does 
+
+
+
+95 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+not raise the wages of labour in any employment. It is otherwise 
+with those in which courage and address can be of no avail. In 
+trades which are known to be very unwholesome, the wages of 
+labour are always remarkably high. U nwholesomeness is a species 
+of disagreeableness, and its effects upon thewagesof labour are to 
+be ranked under that general head. 
+
+In all the different employments of stock, the ordinary rate of 
+profit varies more or less with the certainty or uncertainty of the 
+returns. These are, in general, less uncertain in the inland than in 
+the foreign trade, and in some branches of foreign trade than in 
+others; in thetradeto N orth America, for example, than in that to 
+Jamaica. T he ordinary rate of profit always rises more or less with 
+the risk, it does not, however, seem to rise in proportion to it, or so 
+as to compensate it completely. Bankruptcies are most frequent in 
+the most hazardoustrades. T he most hazardous of all trades, that of 
+a smuggler, though, when the adventure succeeds, it is likewise the 
+most profitable, is the infallible road to bankruptcy. T he presump- 
+tuous hope of success seems to act here as upon all other occasions, 
+and to entice so many adventurers into those hazardoustrades, that 
+their competition reducestheprofit below what issufficient to com- 
+pensate the risk. To compensate it completely, thecommon returns 
+ought, over and above the ordinary profits of stock, not only to 
+makeupforall occasional losses, but to afford asurplusprofitto the 
+
+
+
+adventurers, of the same nature with the profit of insurers. But if 
+thecommon returns weresufficientfor all this, bankruptcies would 
+not be more frequent in these than in other trades. 
+
+f the five circumstances, therefore, which vary the wages of 
+labour, two only affect the profits of stock; the agreeableness or 
+disagreeablen ess of thebusiness, and therisk or security with which 
+it is attended. In point of agreeableness or disagreeableness, there 
+is little or no difference in the far greater part of the different 
+employments of stock, but a great deal in those of labour; and the 
+ordinary profit of stock, though it rises with the risk, does not 
+always seem to rise in proportion to it. It should follow from all 
+this, that, in the same society or neighbourhood, the average and 
+ordinary ratesof profit in thedifferent employmentsof stock should 
+be more nearly upon a level than the pecuniary wages of the dif- 
+ferent sorts of labour. 
+
+T hey are so accordingly. Thedifference between theearnings of 
+a common labourer and thoseof a well employed lawyer or physi- 
+cian, is evidently much greater than that between the ordinary 
+profits in any two different branches of trade. T he apparent dif- 
+ference, besides, in the profits of different trades, is generally a 
+deception arising from our not always distinguishing what ought 
+to be considered as wages, from what ought to be considered as 
+profit. 
+
+
+
+96 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+Apothecaries' profit is become a bye-word, denoting something 
+uncommonly extravagant. This great apparent profit, however, is 
+frequently no more than the reasonablewagesof labour. Theskill 
+of an apothecary is a much nicer and more delicate matter than 
+that of any artificer whatever; and the trust which is reposed in 
+him is of much greater importance. H e is the physician of the 
+poor in all cases, and of therich when the distress or danger isnot 
+very great. H is reward, therefore, ought to be suitable to his skill 
+and his trust; and it arises generally from the price at which he 
+sells hisdrugs. But thewholedrugs which thebest employed apoth- 
+ecary in a large market-town, will sell in a year, may not perhaps 
+cost him above thirty or forty pounds. Though heshould sell them, 
+therefore, for three or four hundred, or at a thousand per cent, 
+profit, this may frequently be no more than the reasonable wages 
+of his labour, charged, in the only way in which he can charge 
+them, upon the price of his drugs. T he greater part of the appar- 
+ent profit is real wages disguised in the garb of profit. 
+
+I n a small sea-port town, a little grocer will make forty or fifty 
+percent, upon a stock of a singlehundred pounds, whilea consid- 
+erablewholesalemerchantin thesameplacewill scarce make eight 
+or ten per cent, upon a stock of ten thousand. The trade of the 
+grocer may be necessary for the conveniency of the inhabitants, 
+and the narrowness of themarket may not admit theemployment 
+
+
+
+of a larger capital in the business. The man, however, must not 
+only live by his trade, but live by it suitably to the qualifications 
+which it requires. Besides possessing a little capital, he must be 
+able to read, write, and account and must be a tolerable judge, 
+too, of perhaps fifty or sixty different sorts of goods, their prices, 
+qualities, and the markets where they are to be had cheapest. H e 
+must have all theknowledge, in short, that is necessary for a great 
+merchant, which nothing hinders him from becoming but the 
+want of a sufficient capital. Thirty or forty pounds a year cannot 
+be considered as too great a recompencefor thelabour of a person 
+so accomplished. Deduct this from the seemingly great profits of 
+hiscapital, and littlemorewill remain, perhaps, than theordinary 
+profits of stock. The greater part of the apparent profit is, in this 
+case too, real wages. 
+
+T he difference between theapparent profit of theretail and that 
+of the wholesale trade, is much less in the capital than in small 
+towns and country villages. Where ten thousand pounds can be 
+employed in the grocery trade, the wages of the grocer's labour 
+must be a very trifling addition to the real profits of so great a 
+stock. The apparent profits of the wealthy retailer, therefore, are 
+there more nearly upon a level with those of the wholesale mer- 
+chant. It is upon this account that goods sold by retail are gener- 
+ally as cheap, and frequently much cheaper, in the capital than in 
+
+
+
+97 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+small townsand country villages. Grocery goods, for example, are 
+generally much cheaper; bread and butchers' meat frequently as 
+cheap. It costs no more to bring grocery goods to the great town 
+than to thecountry village; but it costs a great deal more to bring 
+corn and cattle, as the greater part of them must be brought from 
+a much greater distance. T he prime cost of grocery goods, there- 
+fore, being the same in both places, they are cheapest where the 
+least profit is charged upon them. The prime cost of bread and 
+butchers' meat is greater in the great town than in the country 
+village; and though the profit is less, therefore they are not always 
+cheaper there, but often equally cheap. In such articles as bread 
+and butchers' meat, the same cause which diminishes apparent 
+profit, increases prime cost. The extent of the market, by giving 
+employment to greater stocks, diminishes apparent profit; but by 
+requiring supplies from a greater distance, it increases primecost. 
+This diminution of the one and increase of the other, seem, in 
+most cases, nearly to counterbalance one another; which is prob- 
+ably the reason that, though the prices of corn and cattle are com- 
+monly very different in different parts of the kingdom, those of 
+bread and butchers' meat are generally very nearly the same through 
+the greater part of it. 
+
+Though the profits of stock, both in the wholesale and retail 
+trade, are generally less in the capital than in small towns and 
+
+
+
+country villages, yet great fortunes are frequently acquired from 
+small beginnings in the former, and scarce ever in the latter. In 
+small townsand country villages, on account of the narrowness of 
+the market, trade cannot always be extended as stock extends. I n 
+such places, therefore, though therateof a particular person's profits 
+may be very high, the sum or amount of them can never be very 
+great, nor consequently that of his annual accumulation. In great 
+towns, on the contrary, trade can be extended as stock increases, 
+and the credit of a frugal and thriving man increases much faster 
+than hisstock. H istrade is extended in proportion totheamount 
+of both; and the sum or amount of his profits is in proportion to 
+the extent of his trade, and his annual accumulation in propor- 
+tion to the amount of his profits. It seldom happens, however, 
+that great fortunesare made, even in great towns, by any oneregu- 
+lar, established, and well-known branch of business, but in conse- 
+quence of a long life of industry, frugality, and attention. Sudden 
+fortunes, indeed, are sometimes made in such places, by what is 
+called thetradeof speculation. T hespeculative merchant exercises 
+nooneregular, established, or well-known branch of business. H e 
+isacorn merchant this year, and a wine merchant the next, and a 
+sugar, tobacco, or tea merchant the year after. H e enters i nto every 
+trade, when he foresees that it islikely to liemorethan commonly 
+profitable, and he quits it when he foresees that its profits are 
+
+
+
+98 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+likely to return to the level of other trades. H is profits and losses, 
+therefore, can bear no regular proportion to those of any one es- 
+tablished and well-known branch of business. A bold adventurer 
+may sometimes acquire a considerable fortune by two or three 
+successful speculations, but is just as likely to lose one by two or 
+three unsuccessful ones. This trade can be carried on nowhere but 
+in great towns. It isonly in placesof the most extensive commerce 
+and correspondence that the intelligence requisite for it can be 
+had. 
+
+Thefivecircumstancesabovementioned, though they occasion 
+considerableinequalitiesin thewages of labourand profitsof stock, 
+occasion none in the whole of the advantages and disadvantages, 
+real or imaginary, of the different employments of either. The na- 
+ture of those circumstances is such, that they make up for a small 
+pecuniary gain in some, and counterbalance a great one in others. 
+
+In order, however, that thisequality may takeplaceinthewhole 
+of their advantages or disadvantages, three things are requisite, 
+even where there is the most perfect freedom. First the employ- 
+ments must be well known and long established in the 
+neighbourhood; secondly, they must be in their ordinary, or what 
+may be called their natural state; and, thirdly, they must be the 
+sole or principal employments of those who occupy them. 
+
+First, Thisequality can take place only in those employments 
+
+
+
+which are well known, and have been long established in the 
+neighbourhood. 
+
+Where all other circumstances are equal, wages are generally 
+higher in new than in old trades. When a projector attempts to 
+establish a new manufacture, he must at first entice his workmen 
+from other employments, by higher wages than they can either 
+earn in their own trades, or than the nature of his work would 
+otherwise require; and a considerable time must pass away before 
+he can venture to reduce them to the common level. M anufac- 
+tures for which the demand arises altogether from fashion and 
+fancy, are continually changing, and seldom last long enough to 
+be considered as old established manufactures. Those, on thecon- 
+trary, for which the demand arises chiefly from use or necessity, 
+are less liable to change, and the same form or fabric may con- 
+tinued demand for wholecenturies together. The wagesof labour, 
+therefore, are likely to be higher in manufactures of the former, 
+than in thoseof the latter kind. Birmingham dealschiefly in manu- 
+factures of the former kind; Sheffield in those of the latter; and 
+the wages of labour in those two different places are said to be 
+suitable to this difference in the nature of their manufactures. 
+
+T he establishment of any new manufacture, of any new branch 
+of commerce, or of any new practice in agriculture, is always a 
+speculation from which the projector promises himself extraordi- 
+
+
+
+99 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+nary profits. These profits sometimes are very great, and some- 
+times, more frequently, perhaps, they are quite otherwise; but, in 
+general, they bear no regular proportion to thoseof other old trades 
+in theneighbourhood. If theproject succeeds, they are commonly 
+at first very high. W hen the tradeor practice becomes thoroughly 
+established and well known, the competition reducesthemtothe 
+level of other trades. 
+
+Secondly, this equality in the whole of the advantages and dis- 
+advantages of thedifferent employments of labour and stock, can 
+take place only in the ordinary, or what may be called the natural 
+state of those employments. 
+
+T hedemand for almost every different species of labour issome- 
+times greater, and sometimes less than usual. In theonecase, the 
+advantages of the employment rise above, in the other they fall 
+below thecommon level. T hedemand for country labour isgreater 
+at hay-time and harvest than during the greater part of the year; 
+and wages rise with the demand. In time of war, when forty or 
+fifty thousand sailors are forced from the merchant service into 
+that of the king, the demand for sailors to merchant ships neces- 
+sarily rises with their scarcity; and their wages, upon such occa- 
+sions, commonly rise from a guinea and seven-and-twenty shil- 
+lings to forty shilling's and three pounds a-month. In a decaying 
+manufacture, on the contrary, many workmen, rather than quit 
+
+
+
+their own trade, are contented with smaller wages than would 
+otherwise be suitable to the nature of their employment. 
+
+T he profits of stock vary with the price of the commodities in 
+which it is employed. As the price of any commodity rises above 
+the ordi nary or average rate, the profits of at least some part of the 
+stock that is employed in bringing it to market, rise above their 
+proper level, and asitfallsthey sink below it. All commodities are 
+moreor lessliableto variationsof price, but some are much more 
+so than others. In all commoditieswhich are produced byhuman 
+industry, the quantity of industry annually employed is necessar- 
+ily regulated by the annual demand, in such a manner that the 
+average annual produce may, as nearly as possible, be equal to the 
+average annual consumption. In someemployments, ithasalready 
+been observed, thesame quantity of industry will always produce 
+thesame, or very nearly the same quantity of commodities. In the 
+linen or woollen manufactures, for example, the same number of 
+handswill annually work up very nearly thesamequantity of linen 
+and woollen cloth. Thevariationsin themarket price of such com- 
+modities, therefore, can ariseonlyfrom some accidental variation 
+in thedemand. A public mourning raises the price of black cloth. 
+But asthedemand for most sortsof plain linen and woollen cloth 
+is pretty uniform, so islikewisetheprice. But there are other em- 
+ployments in which thesamequantity of industry will not always 
+
+
+
+100 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+produce the same quantity of commodities. T he same quantity of 
+industry for example, will, in different years, produce very differ- 
+ent quantities of corn, wine, hops, sugar tobacco, etc.Thepriceof 
+such commodities, therefore, varies not only with the variations 
+of demand, but with the much greater and more frequent varia- 
+tions of quantity, and is consequently extremely fluctuating; but 
+the profit of some of the dealers must necessarily fluctuate with 
+the price of the commodities. The operations of the speculative 
+merchant are principally employed about such commodities. H e 
+endeavours to buy them up when he foresees that their price is 
+likely to rise, and to sell them when it is likely to fall. 
+
+Thirdly, thisequality in the whole of the advantages and disad- 
+vantages of the different employments of labour and stock, can 
+take pi ace only in such as are the sole or principal employmentsof 
+those who occupy them. 
+
+W hen a person derives his subsistence from one employment, 
+which doesnot occupy thegreater part of histime, intheintervals 
+of his leisure he is often willing to work at another for less wages 
+than would otherwise suit the nature of the employment. 
+
+There still subsists, in many parts of Scotland, a set of people 
+called cottars or cottagers, though they were more frequent some 
+years ago than they are now. T hey are a sort of out-servants of the 
+landlords and farmers. The usual reward which they receive from 
+
+
+
+their master is a house, a small garden for pot-herbs, as much 
+grass as will feed acow, and, perhaps, an acre or two of bad arable 
+land. When their master has occasion for their labour, he gives 
+them, besides, two pecks of oatmeal a-week, worth about sixteen 
+pence sterling. During a great part of the year, he has little or no 
+occasion for their labour, and the cultivation of their own little 
+possession isnotsufficienttooccupythetimewhich isleft at their 
+own disposal. When such occupiers were more numerous than 
+they are at present, they are said to have been willing to give their 
+spare time for a very small recompenceto any body, and to have 
+wrought for less wages than other labourers. I n ancient times, they 
+seem to have been common all over Europe. In countriesill culti- 
+vated, and worseinhabited, thegreater part of landlordsand farm- 
+ers could not otherwise providethem selves with the extraordinary 
+number of hands which country labour requires at certain sea- 
+sons. Thedaily or weekly recompence which such labourers occa- 
+sionally received from their masters, was evidently not the whole 
+price of their labour. Their small tenement made a considerable 
+part of it. This daily or weekly recompence, however, seems to 
+have been considered as thewholeof it, by many writers who have 
+collected the prices of labour and provisions in ancient times, and 
+who have taken pleasure in representing both as wonderfully low. 
+T he produce of such labour comes frequently cheaper to mar- 
+
+
+
+101 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+ket than would otherwise be suitable to its nature. Stockings, in 
+many partsof Scotland, are knit much cheaper than they can any- 
+where be wrought upon the loom. T hey are the work of servants 
+and labourers who derive the principal part of their subsistence 
+from some other employment. More than athousand pairof Sh- 
+etland stockings are annually imported into Leith, of which the 
+priceisfrom fivepenceto seven-pencea pair. At Lerwick, thesmall 
+capital of the Shetland islands, tenpence a-day, I have been as- 
+sured, is a common price of common labour. In the same islands, 
+they knit worsted stockings to the value of a guinea a pair and 
+upwards. 
+
+The spinning of linen yarn is carried on in Scotland nearly in 
+the same way as the knitting of stockings, by servants, who are 
+chiefly hired for other purposes T hey earn but a very scanty sub- 
+sistence, who endeavour to get their livelihood by either of those 
+trades. I n most parts of Scotland, she is a good spinner who can 
+earn twentypencea-week. 
+
+I n opulent countries, the market is generally so extensive, that 
+any one trade is sufficient to employ the whole labour and stock 
+of those who occupy it. Instances of people living by oneemploy- 
+ment, and, at the same time, deriving some little advantage from 
+another, occur chiefly in pour countries. The following instance, 
+however, of something of the same kind, is to be found in the 
+
+
+
+capital of a very rich one. There is no city in Europe, I believe, in 
+which house-rent is dearer than in London, and yet I know no 
+capital in which a furnished apartment can be hired so cheap. 
+Lodging is not only much cheaper in London than in Paris; it is 
+much cheaper than in Edinburgh, of the same degree of goodness; 
+and, what may seem extraordinary, the dearness of house-rent is 
+the cause of the cheapness of lodgi ng. T he dearness of house-rent 
+in London arises, not only from those causes which render it dear 
+in all great capitals, the dearness of labour, the dearness of all the 
+materials of building, which must generally be brought from a 
+great distance, and, above all, the dearness of ground-rent, every 
+landlord acting the part of a monopolist, and frequently exacting 
+a higher rent for a single acre of bad land in a town, than can be 
+had for a hundred of the best in the country; but it arises in part 
+from thepeculiar manners and customsof thepeople, which oblige 
+every master of a family to hire a whole house from top to bot- 
+tom. A dwelling-house in England means every thing that is con- 
+tained under the same roof. In France, Scotland, and many other 
+partsof Europe, it frequently means no more than a single storey. 
+A tradesman in London is obliged to hire a whole house in that 
+part of the town where his customers live. H is shop is upon the 
+ground floor, and he and his family sleep in the garret; and he 
+endeavoursto pay a part of his house-rent by letting thetwo middle 
+
+
+
+102 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+storeys to lodgers. H eexpectsto maintain hisfamily by histrade, 
+and not by his lodgers. W hereas at Paris and Edinburgh, people 
+who let lodgings have commonly no other means of subsistence; 
+and the price of the lodging must pay, not only the rent of the 
+house, but the whole expense of the family. 
+
+PART II.— Inequalities occasioned by the Policy of Europe. 
+
+Such are the inequalities in the whole of the advantages and 
+disadvantages of the different employments of labour and stock, 
+which the defect of any of the three requisites above mentioned 
+must occasion, even where there is the most perfect liberty. But 
+thepolicy of Europe, by not leaving things at perfect liberty, occa- 
+sions other inequalities of much greater importance. 
+
+Itdoesthischiefly in thethree following ways. First, by restrain- 
+ing the competition in some employments to a smaller number 
+than would otherwise be disposed to enter into them; secondly, 
+by increasing it in others beyond what it naturally would be; and, 
+thirdly, by obstructing the free circulation of labour and stock, 
+both from employment to employment, and from place to place. 
+
+First, The policy of Europe occasions a very important inequal- 
+ity in the whole of the advantages and disadvantages of thediffer- 
+ent employmentsof labour and stock, by restraining thecompeti- 
+tion in someemploymentsto a smaller number than might other- 
+
+
+
+wise be disposed to enter into them. 
+
+The exclusive privilegesofcorporationsare the principal means 
+it makes use of for this purpose. 
+
+The exclusive privilege of an incorporated trade necessarily re- 
+strains the competition, in the town where it is established, to 
+those who are free of the trade. To have served an apprenticeship 
+in the town, under a master properly qualified, is commonly the 
+necessary requisite for obtaining this freedom. The bye-laws of 
+the corporation regulate sometimes the number of apprentices 
+which any master is all owed to have, and almost always thenum- 
+ber of years which each apprentice is obliged to serve. The inten- 
+tion of both regulations is to restrain the competition to a much 
+smaller number than might otherwise be disposed to enter into 
+the trade. T he limitation of the number of apprentices restrains it 
+directly. A longterm of apprenticeship restrainsit moreindirectly, 
+but as effectually, by increasing the expense of education. 
+
+In Sheffield, no master cutler can have more than one appren- 
+tice at a time, by a bye-law of the corporation. In Norfolk and 
+N orwich, no master weaver can have more than two apprentices, 
+under pain of forfeiting five pounds a-month to the king. No 
+master hatter can have more than two apprentices anywhere in 
+England, or in the English plantations, under pain of forfeiting; 
+five pounds a-month, half to the king, and half to him who shall 
+
+
+
+103 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+sue in any court of record. Both these regulations, though they 
+have been confirmed by a public law of the kingdom, are evi- 
+dently dictated by the same corporation-spirit which enacted the 
+bye-law of Sheffield. Thesilk-weaversin London had scarce been 
+incorporated a year, when they enacted a bye-law, restraining any 
+master from having more than two apprentices at a time. It re 
+quired a particular act of parliament to rescind this bye-law. 
+
+Seven years seem anciently to have been, all over Europe, the 
+usual term established for the duration of apprenticeships in the 
+greater part of incorporated trades. All such incorporations were 
+anciently called universities, which, indeed, is the proper Latin 
+name for any incorporation whatever. The university of smiths, 
+the university of tailors, etc. are expressions which wecommonly 
+meet with in the old charters of ancient towns. When those par- 
+ticular incorporations, which are now peculiarly called universi- 
+ties, werefirst established, theterm of years which it was necessary 
+to study, in order to obtain the degree of master of arts, appears 
+evidently to have been copied from theterm of apprenticeship in 
+common trades, of which the incorporations were much more 
+ancient. As to have wrought seven years under a master properly 
+qualified, was necessary, in order to entitle my person to become a 
+master, and to have himself apprentices in a common trade; so to 
+have studied seven years under a master properly qualified, was 
+
+
+
+necessary to entitle him to become a master, teacher, or doctor 
+(words anciently synonymous), in the liberal arts, and to have 
+scholars or apprentices(wordslikewiseoriginally synonymous) to 
+study under him. 
+
+By the 5th of Elizabeth, commonly called the Statute of Ap- 
+prenticeship, it was en acted, that no person should, for thefuture, 
+exercise any trade, craft, or mystery, at that time exercised in En- 
+gland, unless he had previously served to it an apprenticeship of 
+seven years at least; and what before had been the bye-law of many 
+particular corporations, becamein England the general and pub- 
+lic law of all trades carried on in market towns. For though the 
+words of the statute are very general, and seem plainly to include 
+thewholekingdom, by interpretation its operation has been lim- 
+ited to market towns; it having been held that, in country villages, 
+a person may exercise several different trades, though he has not 
+served a seven years apprenticeship to each, they being necessary 
+for the conveniency of the inhabitants, and the number of people 
+frequently not being sufficient to supply each with a particular set 
+of hands. By a strict interpretation of the words, too, the opera- 
+tion of this statute has been limited to those trades which were 
+established in England before the 5th of Elizabeth, and has never 
+been extended to such as have been introduced since that time. 
+This limitation has given occasion to several distinctions, which, 
+
+
+
+104 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+considered as rules of police, appear as foolish as can well beimag- 
+ined. It has been adjudged, for example, that a coach-maker can 
+neither himself make nor employ journeymen to make hiscoach- 
+wheels, but must buy them of a master wheel-wright; this latter 
+trade having been exercised in England before the 5th of Eliza- 
+beth. But a wheel-wright, though he has never served an appren- 
+ticeship to a coachmaker, may either himself makeor employ jour- 
+neymen to make coaches; the trade of a coachmaker not being 
+within the statute, because not exercised in England at the time 
+when it was made. The manufactures of M anchester, Birming- 
+ham, and Wolverhampton, are many of them, upon this account, 
+not within the statute, not having been exercised in England be- 
+fore the 5th of Elizabeth. 
+
+In France, theduration of apprenticeships isdifferent in differ- 
+ent towns and in different trades. In Paris, five years is the term 
+required in a great number; but, before any person can be quali- 
+fied to exercise the trade as a master, he must, in many of them, 
+serve five years more as a journeyman. During this latter term, he 
+is called thecompanion of hismaster, and theterm itself is called 
+his companionship. 
+
+In Scotland, there is no general law which regulates universally 
+the duration of apprenticeships. Theterm is different in different 
+corporations. Where it is long, a part of it may generally be re- 
+
+
+
+deemed by paying a small fine. In most towns, too, a very small fine 
+is sufficient to purchase thefreedom of any corporation. Theweav- 
+ers of linen and hempen cloth, the principal manufactures of the 
+country, as well as all other artificers subservient to them, wheel- 
+makers, reel-makers, etc. may exercise their tradesin anytown-cor- 
+porate without paying any fine. In all towns-corporate, all persons 
+are free to sell butchers' meat upon any lawful day of the week. 
+Threeyearsis, in Scotland, acommon term of apprenticeship, even 
+in some very nice trades; and, in general, I know of no country in 
+Europe, in which corporation laws are so little oppressive. 
+
+The property which every man hasin hisown labour, as it isthe 
+original foundation of all other property, so it is the most sacred 
+and inviolable. The patrimony of a poor man lies in the strength 
+and dexterity of his hands; and to hinder him from employing 
+thisstrength and dexterity in what manner hethinksproper, with- 
+out injury to his neighbour, isa plain violation of this most sacred 
+property. It isa manifest encroachment upon thejust liberty, both 
+of the workman, and of those who might be disposed to employ 
+him. As it hinders theonefrom working at what hethinksproper, 
+so it hinders theothers from employing whom they think proper. 
+To judge whether he is fit to be employed, may surely be trusted 
+to the discretion of the employers, whose interest it so much con- 
+cerns. T he affected anxiety of the lawgiver, lest they should em- 
+
+
+
+105 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+ploy an improper person, is evidently as impertinent as it is op- 
+pressive. 
+
+T he institution of long apprenticeships can giveno security that 
+insufficient workmanship shall not frequently be exposed to pub- 
+lic sale. When this is done, it is generally the effect of fraud, and 
+not of inability; and the longest apprenticeship can give no secu- 
+rity against fraud. Q uitedifferent regulations are necessary to pre- 
+vent this abuse. The sterling mark upon plate, and the stamps 
+upon linen and woollen cloth, give the purchaser much greater 
+security than any statute of apprenticeship. He generally looks at 
+these, but never thinksit worth whileto enquire whether thework- 
+man had served a seven years apprenticeship. 
+
+Theinstitution of long apprenticeships hasno tendency to form 
+young people to industry. A journeyman who works by the piece 
+is likely to be industrious, because he derives a benefit from every 
+exertion of his industry. An apprentice is likely to be idle, and 
+almost always is so, because he has no immediate interest to be 
+otherwise. I n the inferior employments, thesweetsof labour con- 
+sist altogether in the recompence of labour. T hey who are soonest 
+in a condition to enjoy the sweets of it, are likely soonest to con- 
+ceive a relish for it, and to acquire the early habit of industry. A 
+young man naturally conceives an aversion to labour, when for a 
+long ti me he receives no benefit from it. T he boys who are put out 
+
+
+
+apprentices from public charities are generally bound for more 
+than the usual number of years, and they generally turn out very 
+idle and worthless. 
+
+Apprenticeships were altogether unknown to the ancients. The 
+reciprocal duties of master and apprentice make a considerable ar- 
+ticle in every modern code. The Roman law is perfectly silent with 
+regard to them. I know no Greek or Latin word (I might venture, I 
+believe, to assert that thereisnone) which expressestheideawenow 
+annex to the word apprentice, a servant bound to work at a particu- 
+lar trade for the benefit of a master, during a term of years, upon 
+condition that the master shall teach him that trade. 
+
+Long apprenticeshipsare altogether unnecessary. T hearts, which 
+are much superior to common trades, such as those of making 
+clocks and watches, contain no such mystery as to require a long 
+course of instruction. The first invention of such beautiful ma- 
+chines, indeed, and even that of someoftheinstruments employed 
+in making them, must no doubt have been the work of deep 
+thought and long time, and may justly be considered as among 
+the happiest efforts of human ingenuity. But when both have been 
+fairly invented, and are well understood, to explain to any young 
+man, in the completest manner, how to apply the instruments, 
+and how to construct themachines, cannot well require more than 
+the lessons of a few weeks; perhaps those of a few days might be 
+
+
+
+106 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+sufficient. In the common mechanic trades, those of a few days 
+might certainly be sufficient. The dexterity of hand, indeed, even 
+in common trades, cannot be acquired without much practice 
+and experience. But a young man would practice with much more 
+diligence and attention, if from the beginning he wrought as a 
+journeyman, being paid in proportion to the little work which he 
+could execute, and paying in his turn for the materials which he 
+might sometimes spoil through awkwardness and inexperience. 
+H iseducation would generally in this way be more effectual, and 
+always less tedious and expensive. The master, indeed, would be a 
+loser. H ewould lose all thewagesof theapprentice, which henow 
+saves, for seven years together. I n theend, perhaps, theapprentice 
+himself would bealoser. In a trade so easily learnt he would have 
+more competitors, and his wages, when hecameto bea complete 
+workman, would be much less than at present. The same increase 
+of competition would reduce the profits of the masters, as well as 
+thewagesof workmen. T hetrades, thecrafts, themysteries, would 
+all be losers. But the public would be a gainer, the work of all 
+artificers coming in this way much cheaper to market. 
+
+It isto prevent hisreduction of price, and consequently of wages 
+and profit, by restraining that freecompetition which would most 
+certainly occasion it, that all corporations, and thegreater part of 
+corporation lawshavebeen established. In order to erect a corpo- 
+
+
+
+ration, no other authority in ancient times was requisite, in many 
+parts of Europe, but that of the town-corporate in which it was 
+established. In England, indeed, a charter from the king was I ike- 
+wise necessary. But this prerogative of the crown seems to have 
+been reserved rather for extorting money from the subject, than 
+for the defence of the common liberty against such oppressive 
+monopolies. U pon paying a fine to the king, the charter seems 
+generally to have been readily granted; and when any particular 
+class of artificers or traders thought proper to act as a corporation, 
+without a charter, such adulterineguilds, as they were called, were 
+not always disfranchised upon that account, but obliged to fine 
+annually to the king, for permission to exercise their usurped privi- 
+leges {See M adox Firma Burgi p. 26 etc.}. The immediate inspec- 
+tion of all corporations, and of the bye-laws which they might 
+think proper to enact for their own government, belonged to the 
+town-corporate in which they were established; and whatever dis- 
+cipline was exercised over them, proceeded commonly, not from 
+theking, but from that greater incorporation of which those sub- 
+ordinate ones were only parts or members. 
+
+T hegovernment of towns-corporate was altogether in the hands 
+of traders and artificers, and it was the manifest interest of every 
+particular class of them, to prevent the market from being over- 
+stocked, as they commonly express it, with their own particular 
+
+
+
+107 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+species of industry; which is in reality to keep it always 
+understocked. Each dasswas eager to establish regulations proper 
+for this purpose, and, provided it was all owed to do so, was will- 
+ing to consent that every other class should do thesame. I n conse- 
+quence of such regulations, indeed, each class was obliged to buy 
+thegoodstheyhad occasion for from every other within thetown, 
+somewhat dearer than they otherwise might have done. But, in 
+recompence, they were enabled to sell their own just asmuch dearer; 
+so that, so far it was as broad as long, as they say; and in the 
+dealings of thedifferent classes within thetown with one an other, 
+none of them were losers by these regulations. But in their deal- 
+ings with the country they were all great gainers; and in these 
+latter dealings consist the whole trade which supports and en- 
+riches every town. 
+
+Every town draws its whole subsistence, and all the materials of 
+its industry, from the: country. It pays for these chiefly in two 
+ways. First, by sending back to the country a part of those materi- 
+als wrought up and manufactured; in which case, their price is 
+augmented by the wages of the workmen, and the profits of their 
+masters or immediate employers; secondly, by sending to it a part 
+both of therudeand manufactured produce, either of other coun- 
+tries, or of distant parts of the same country, imported into the 
+town; in which case, too, the original price of those goods is aug- 
+
+
+
+mented bythewagesof thecarriersor sailors, and by the profits of 
+themerchants who employ them. In whatisgained upon thefirst 
+of those branches of commerce, consists the advantage which the 
+town makes by its manufactures; in what is gained upon the sec- 
+ond, the advantage of its inland and foreign trade. The wages of 
+the workmen, and the profits of their different employers, make 
+up the whole of whatisgained upon both. Whatever regulations, 
+therefore, tend to increase those wages and profits beyond what 
+they otherwise: would be, tend to enable the town to purchase, 
+with asmaller quantity of itslabour, theproduceofagreaterquan- 
+tity of the labour of the country. T hey give the traders and artifi- 
+cers in the town an advantage over the landlords, farmers, and 
+labourers, in the country, and break down that natural equality 
+which would otherwise take place in the commerce which iscar- 
+riedon between them. T he wholeannual produce of thelabour of 
+thesociety isannually divided between those two different sets of 
+people. Bymeansofthoseregulations, a greater share of it isgiven 
+to the inhabitants of thetown than would otherwise fall to them, 
+and a less to those of 'the country. 
+
+The price which the town really pays for the provisions and 
+materials annually imported into it, is the quantity of manufac- 
+tures and other goods annually exported from it. T he dearer the 
+latter are sold, the cheaper theformer are bought. T he industry of 
+
+
+
+108 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+the town becomes more, and that of the country less advanta- 
+geous. 
+
+That the industry which is carried on in towns is, everywhere in 
+Europe, more advantageous than that which is carried on in the 
+country, without entering into any very nicecomputations, wemay 
+satisfy ourselves by one very simple and obvious observation. In 
+every country of Europe, we find at least a hundred people who 
+have acquired great fortunes, from small beginnings, by trade and 
+manufactures, the industry which properly belongs to towns, for 
+one who hasdoneso by that which properly bdongsto thecountry, 
+the raising of rude produce by the improvement and cultivation of 
+land. I ndustry, therefore, must be better rewarded, thewagesof labour 
+and the profits of stock must evidently be greater, in the one situa- 
+tion than in the other. But stock and labour naturally seek themost 
+advantageous employment. They naturally, therefore, resort asmuch 
+as they can to the town, and desert the country. 
+
+The inhabitants of a town being collected into one place, can 
+easily combine together. The most insignificant trades carried on 
+in towns have, accordingly, in some place or other, been incorpo- 
+rated; and even where they havenever been incorporated, yet the 
+corporation-spirit, the jealousy of strangers, the aversion to take 
+apprentices, or to communicate thesecret of theirtrade, generally 
+prevail in them, and often teach them, by voluntary associations 
+
+
+
+and agreements, to prevent that free competition which they can- 
+not prohibit by bye-laws. The trades which employ but a small 
+number of hands, run most easily into such combinations. H alf- 
+a-dozen wool-combers, perhaps, are necessary to keep a thousand 
+spinners and weavers at work. By combining not to take appren- 
+tices, they can not only engross the employment, but reduce the 
+whole manufacture into a sort of slavery to themselves, and raise 
+the price of their labour much above what is due to the nature of 
+their work. 
+
+The inhabitants of thecountry, dispersed in distant places, can- 
+not easily combinetogether. T hey have not only never been incor- 
+porated, but the incorporation spirit never has prevailed among 
+them. N o apprenticeship has ever been thought necessary to qualify 
+for husbandry, the great trade of thecountry. After what are called 
+thefinearts, and theliberal professions, however, there is perhaps 
+notradewhich requ ires so great a variety of knowledge and expe- 
+rience.Theinnumerablevolumes which have been written upon 
+it in all languages, may satisfy us, that among the wisest and most 
+learned nations, it has never been regarded as a matter very easily 
+understood. And from all those volumes we shall in vain attempt 
+to collect that knowledge of its various and complicated opera- 
+tions which is commonly possessed even by the common farmer; 
+how contemptuously soever the very contemptible authors of some 
+
+
+
+109 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+of them may sometimes affect to speak of him. There isscarce any 
+common mechanic trade, on the contrary of which all the opera- 
+tions may not be as completely and distinctly explained in a pam- 
+phlet of a very few pages, as it is possiblefor words illustrated by 
+figures to explain them. In the history of the arts, now publishing 
+by the French Academy of Sciences, several of them are actually 
+explained in this manner. The direction of operations, besides, 
+which must be varied with every change of the weather, as well as 
+with many other accidents, requires much more judgment and 
+discretion, than that of those which are always the same, or very 
+nearly the same. 
+
+Not only the art of the farmer, the general direction of the op- 
+erations of husbandry, but many inferior branches of country 
+labour require much more skill and experience than the greater 
+part of mechanic trades. T heman who works upon brass and iron, 
+works with instruments, and upon materialsof which thetemper 
+is always the same, or very nearly the same. But the man who 
+ploughs the ground with a team of horses or oxen, works with 
+instruments of which the health, strength, and temper, are very 
+different upon different occasions. Thecondition of the materials 
+which he works upon, too, isasvariableasthatoftheinstruments 
+which heworkswith, and both require to bemanaged with much 
+judgmentand discretion. Thecommon ploughman, though gen- 
+
+
+
+erally regarded as the pattern of stupidity and ignorance, is sel- 
+dom defective in this judgment and discretion. He is less accus- 
+tomed, indeed, to social intercourse, than themechanic who lives 
+in a town. His voice and language are more uncouth, and more 
+difficult to be understood by those who are not used to them. H is 
+understanding, however, being accustomed to consider a greater 
+variety of objects, is generally much superior to that of the other, 
+whose whole attention, from morning till night, is commonly 
+occupied in performing one or two very simple operations. How 
+much the lower ranks of people in the country are really superior 
+to those of the town, is well known to every man whom either 
+businessor curiosity hasled to conversemuch with both. I n C hina 
+and Indostan, accordingly, both the rank and the wages of coun- 
+try labourers are said to be superior to those of the greater part of 
+artificers and manufacturers. They would probably be so every- 
+where, if corporation laws and the corporation spirit did not pre- 
+vent it. 
+
+T hesuperiority which the industry of thetowns has everywhere 
+in Europe over that of the country, is not altogether owing to 
+corporations and corporation laws. Itissupported by many other 
+regulations.Thehigh dutiesupon foreign manufactures, and upon 
+all goods imported by alien merchants, all tend to the same pur- 
+pose. Corporation laws enable the inhabitants of towns to raise 
+
+
+
+110 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+their prices, without fearing to be undersold by the free com peti- 
+tion of theirown countrymen. Thoseotherregulationssecure them 
+equally against that of foreigners. T heenhancement of price occa- 
+sioned by both is everywhere finally paid by the landlords, farm- 
+ers, and labourers, of the country, who have seldom opposed the 
+establishment of such monopolies. T hey have commonly neither 
+inclination nor fitness to enter into combinations; and thedamour 
+and sophistry of merchants and manufacturers easily persuade 
+them, that the private interest of apart, and of a subordinate part, 
+of thesociety, isthe general interest of the whole. 
+
+In Great Britain, the superiority of the industry of the towns 
+over that of thecountryseemsto have been greater formerly than 
+in thepresenttimes.Thewagesofcountrylabour approach nearer 
+to those of manufacturing labour, and the profits of stock em- 
+ployed in agriculture to those of trading and manufacturing stock, 
+than they are said to have none in the last century, or in the begin- 
+ning of the present. Thischange may be regarded as the necessary, 
+though very late consequence of the extraordinary encouragement 
+given to the industry of the towns. The stocks accumulated in 
+them come in time to be so great, that it can no longer be em- 
+ployed with theancient profit in that species of industry which is 
+peculiar to them. That industry has its limits like every other; and 
+the increase of stock, by increasing the competition, necessarily 
+
+
+
+reduces the profit. T he lowering of profit in the town forces out 
+stock to the country, where, by creating a new demand for coun- 
+try labour, it necessarily raises its wages. It then spreads itself, if I 
+my say so, over the face of the land, and, by being employed in 
+agriculture, is in part restored to the country, at the expense of 
+which, in a great measure, it had originally been accumulated in 
+the town. That everywhere in Europe the greatest improvements 
+of thecountry have been owingtosuch overflowingsofthestock 
+originally accumulated in the towns, I shall endeavour to shew 
+hereafter, and at the same time to demonstrate, that though some 
+countries have, by thiscourse, attained to aconsiderabledegree of 
+opulence, itisin itself necessarily slow, uncertain, liableto bedis- 
+turbed and interrupted by innumerable accidents, and, in every 
+respect, contrary to the order of nature and of reason The inter- 
+ests, prejudices, laws, and customs, which have given occasion to 
+it, I shall endeavour to explain as fully and distinctly as I can in 
+thethird and fourth books of this Inquiry. 
+
+People of the same trade seldom meet together, even for merri- 
+ment and diversion, but the conversation ends in a conspiracy 
+against the public, or in some contrivance to raise prices. It is 
+impossible, indeed, to prevent such meetings, by any law which 
+either could be executed, or would be consistent with liberty and 
+justice. But though thelaw cannot hinder peopleof thesametrade 
+
+
+
+111 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+from sometimes assembling together, it ought to do nothing to 
+facilitate such assemblies, much less to render them necessary. 
+
+A regulation which obliges all those of the same trade in a par- 
+ticular town to enter their names and places of abode in a public 
+register, facilitates such assemblies. It connects individuals who 
+might never otherwise be known to one another, and gives every 
+man of the trade a direction whereto find every other man of it. 
+
+A regulation which enables those of the same trade to tax them- 
+selves, in order to provide for their poor, their sick, their widows 
+and orphans, by giving them a common interest to manage, ren- 
+ders such assemblies necessary. 
+
+An incorporation not only renders them necessary, but makes 
+theact of the majority binding upon thewhole. In a free trade, an 
+effectual combination cannot be established but by the unani- 
+mous consent of every single trader, and it cannot last longer than 
+every single trader continues of the same mind. The majority of a 
+corporation can enact a bye- 1 aw, with proper penalties, which will 
+limit the competition more effectually and moredurablythan any 
+voluntary combination whatever. 
+
+T he pretence that corporations are necessary for the better gov- 
+ernment of the trade, is without any foundation. The real and 
+effectual disciplinewhich isexercised over a workman, isnotthat 
+of hiscorporation, butthatof his customers. It isthefear of losing 
+
+
+
+their employment which restrainshisfraudsandcorrectshisneg- 
+ligence. An exclusive corporation necessarily weakens the force of 
+this discipline. A particular set of workmen must then be em- 
+ployed, let them behave well or ill. It is upon this account that, in 
+many large incorporated towns, no tolerable workmen are to be 
+found, even in some of the most necessary trades. If you would 
+have your work tolerably executed, it must be done in the sub- 
+urbs, where theworkmen, having no exclusive privilege, havenoth- 
+ing but their character to depend upon, and you must then smuggle 
+it into the town as well as you can. 
+
+Itisin thismanner that thepolicy of Europe, by restraining the 
+competition in someemploym en ts to asmaller number than would 
+otherwise bedisposed to enterinto them, occasions a very impor- 
+tant inequality in the whole of the advantages and disadvantages 
+of the different employments of labour and stock. 
+
+Secondly, The policy of Europe, by in creasing the com petition 
+in some employments beyond what it naturally would be, occa- 
+sions another inequality, of an opposite kind, in the whole of the 
+advantages and disadvantages of the different employments of 
+labour and stock. 
+
+It has been considered as of so much importance that a proper 
+number of young people should be educated for certain profes- 
+sions, that sometimes the public, and someti mes the piety of pri- 
+
+
+
+112 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+vate founders, have established many pensions, scholarships, ex- 
+hibitions, bursaries, etc. for this purpose, which draw many more 
+people into those trades than could otherwise pretend to follow 
+them. In all Christian countries, I believe, the education of the 
+greater part of churchmen is paid for in this manner. Very few of 
+them are educated altogether at their own expense. The long, te- 
+dious, and expensive education, therefore, of those who are, will 
+not always procure them a suitable reward, the church being 
+crowded with people, who, in order to get employment, are will- 
+ing to accept of a much smaller recom pence than what such an 
+education would otherwise have entitled them to; and in this 
+manner the competition of the poor takes away the reward of the 
+rich. It would be indecent, no doubt, to compare either a curate 
+or a chaplain with a journeyman in any common trade. The pay 
+of a curate or chaplain, however, may very properly be considered 
+as of thesame nature with the wages of a journeyman. They are all 
+three paid for their work according to the contract which they 
+may happen to make with their respective superiors. Till after the 
+middleof thefourteenth century, fivemerks, containing about as 
+much silver as ten pounds of our present money, wasin England 
+the usual pay of a curate or a stipendiary parish priest, as we find 
+it regulated by the decrees of several different national councils. 
+At the same period, fourpence a-day, containing the same quan- 
+
+
+
+tity of silver as a shilling of our present money, was declared to be 
+the pay of a master mason; and threepence a-day, equal to 
+ninepence of our present money, that of a journeyman mason. 
+{See the Statute of Labourers, 25, Ed. 1 1 1 . &gt; T he wages of both 
+these labourer's, therefore, supposingthem to have been constantly 
+employed, were much superior to those of the curate. The wages 
+of the master mason, supposing him to have been without em- 
+ployment one-third of the year, would have fully equalled them. 
+By the 12th of Queen Anne, c. 12. it is declared, "That whereas, 
+for want of sufficient maintenance and encouragement to curates, 
+thecureshave, in several places, been meanly supplied, the bishop 
+is, therefore, empowered to appoint, by writing under his hand 
+and seal, a sufficient certain stipend or allowance, not exceeding 
+fifty, and not less than twenty pounds a-year". Forty pounds a- 
+year is reckoned at present very good pay for a curate; and, not- 
+withstanding this act of parliament, there are many curacies un- 
+der twenty pounds a-year. T here are journeymen shoemakers in 
+London who earn forty pounds a-year, and there is scarce an in- 
+dustrious workman of any kind in that metropolis who does not 
+earn more than twenty. This last sum, indeed, does not exceed 
+what frequently earned by common labourers in many country 
+parishes. W henever thelaw has attempted to regulate the wages of 
+workmen, it has always been rather to lower them than to raise 
+
+
+
+113 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+them. But the law has, upon many occasions, attempted to raise 
+the wages of curates, and, for the dignity of the church, to oblige 
+therectorsof parishes to give them more than thewretched main- 
+tenance which they them selves might be willing to accept of. And, 
+in both cases, the law seemsto have been equally ineffectual, and 
+has never either been ableto raise the wages of curates, or to sink 
+those of labourers to the degree that was intended; because it has 
+never been able to hinder either the one from being willing to 
+accept of less than the legal allowance, on account of the indi- 
+gence of tho r situation and the multitude of thei r competitors, or 
+theotherfrom receiving more, on account of thecontrary compe- 
+tition of those who expected to derive either profit or pleasure 
+from employing them. 
+
+Thegreat benefices and other ecclesiastical dignities support the 
+honour of the church, notwithstanding the mean circumstances 
+of some of its inferior members. The respect paid to the profes- 
+sion, too, makes some compensation even to them for the mean- 
+ness of their pecuniary recompence. In England, and in all Ro- 
+man catholic countri es, thelottery of thechurchisin reality much 
+moreadvantageousthanisnecessary.Theexampleofthechurches 
+of Scotland, of Geneva, and of several other protestant churches, 
+may satisfy us, that in so creditable a profession, in which educa- 
+tion isso easily procured, thehopesof much more moderate ben- 
+
+
+
+efices will draw a sufficient number of learned, decent, and re- 
+spectable men into holy orders. 
+
+I n professions in which there are no benefices, such as law and 
+physic, if an equal proportion of people were educated atthepub- 
+lic expense, thecompetition would soon be so great as to sink very 
+much their pecuniary reward. It might then not be worth any 
+man's while to educate his son to either of those professions at his 
+own expense. T hey would be entirely abandoned to such as had 
+been educated by those public charities, whose numbers and ne- 
+cessities would oblige them in general to content themselves with 
+a very miserable recompence, to the en tire degradation of thenow 
+respectable professions of law and physic. 
+
+T hat unprosperous race of men, commonly called men of let- 
+ters, are pretty much in the situation which lawyers and physi- 
+cians probably would be in, upon the foregoing supposition. In 
+every part of Europe, the greater part of them have been educated 
+for the church, but have been hindered by different reasons from 
+entering into holy orders. They have generally, therefore, been edu- 
+cated at the public expense; and their numbers are everywhere so 
+great, as commonly to reduce the price of their labour to a very 
+paltry recompence. 
+
+Before the invention of the art of printing, the only employ- 
+ment by which a man of letters could make any thing by his tal- 
+
+
+
+114 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+en ts, was that of a public or private teacher, or by communicating 
+to other people the curious and useful knowledge which he had 
+acquired himself; and this is sti II surely a more honourable, a more 
+useful, and, in general, even a more profitable employment than 
+that other of writing for a bookseller, to which the art of printing 
+has given occasion. The time and study, the genius, knowledge, 
+and application requisite to qualify an eminent teacher of the sci- 
+ences, are at least equal to what is necessary for the greatest practi- 
+tioners in law and physic. But the usual reward of the eminent 
+teacher bears no proportion to that of the lawyer or physician, 
+becausethetradeoftheoneiscrowded with indigent people, who 
+have been brought up to it at the public expense; whereas those of 
+the other two are encumbered with very few who have not been 
+educated at their own. The usual recompence, however, of public 
+and private teachers, small as it may appear, would undoubtedly 
+be less than it is, if the competition of those yet more indigent 
+men of letters, who write for bread, was not taken out of the mar- 
+ket. Before the invention of the art of printing, a scholar and a 
+beggar seem to have been terms very nearly synonymous. T he dif- 
+ferent governors of the universities, before that time, appear to 
+have often granted licences to their scholars to beg. 
+
+In ancient times, before any charities of this kind had been es- 
+tablished for the education of indigent peopleto the learned pro- 
+
+
+
+fessions, the rewards of eminent teachers appear to have been much 
+more considerable. Isocrates, in what iscalled his discourse against 
+thesophists, reproaches theteachersof hisown times with incon- 
+sistency "T hey makethemost magnificent promisesto their schol- 
+ars," sayshe, "and undertaketo teach them to bewise, to behappy, 
+and to bejust; and, in return for so important a service, they stipu- 
+late the paltry reward of four or five minae." "They who teach 
+wisdom," continues he, "ought certainly to be wise themselves; 
+but if any man were to sell such a bargain for such a price, he 
+would be convicted of the most evident folly." H e certainly does 
+not mean here to exaggerate the reward, and we may be assured 
+that it was not less than he represents it. Four minae were equal to 
+thirteen poundssixshillingsand eightpence; fiveminaeto sixteen 
+pounds thirteen shillings and fourpence. Something not less than 
+the largest of those two sums, therefore, must at that time have 
+been usually paid to themost eminent teachers at Athens. Isocrates 
+himself demanded ten minae, or £ 33:6:8 from each scholar. W hen 
+he taught at Athens, he is said to have had a hundred scholars. I 
+understand thisto bethenumber whom hetaught at onetime, or 
+who attended what we would call one course of lectures; a num- 
+ber which will not appear extraordinary from so great a city to so 
+famous a teacher, who taught, too, what was at that timethemost 
+fashionable of all sciences, rhetoric. H e must have made, there- 
+
+
+
+115 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+fore, by each course of lectures, athousand minae, or £ 3335:6:8. 
+A thousand minae, accordingly, is said by Plutarch, in another 
+place, to have been hisdidactron, or usual priceof teaching. M any 
+other eminent teachers in those times appear to have acquired 
+great fortunes. G eorgias made a present to the temple of D elphi 
+of his own statue in solid gold. We must not, I presume, suppose 
+that it was as large as the life. His way of living, as well as that of 
+H ippiasand Protagoras, two other eminent teachers of those times, 
+isrepresented by Plato as splendid, even to ostentation. Plato him- 
+self issaid to havelived with a good deal of magnificence. Aristotle, 
+after having been tutor to Alexander, and most munificently re- 
+warded, as it is universally agreed, both by him and his father, 
+Philip, thought it worth while, notwithstanding, to return to Ath- 
+ens, in order to resumetheteachingof hisschool. Teachers of the 
+scienceswereprobably in those timesless common than they came 
+to be in an age or two afterwards, when the competition had prob- 
+ably somewhat reduced both the price of their labour and the 
+admiration for their persons. The most eminent of them, how- 
+ever, appear alwaysto have enjoyed a degreeof consideration much 
+superior to any of the like profession in the present times. The 
+Athenians sent Carneades the academic, and Diogenes the stoic, 
+upon a solemn embassy to Rome; and though their city had then 
+declined from its former grandeur, it was still an independent and 
+
+
+
+considerable republic. 
+
+Carneades, too, was a Babylonian by birth; and as there never 
+wasapeoplemorejealousof admitting foreigners to public offices 
+than the Athenians, their consideration for him must have been 
+very great. 
+
+Thisinequality is, upon the whole, perhaps rather advantageous 
+than hurtful to the public. It may somewhat degrade the profes- 
+sion of a public teacher; but the cheapness of literary education is 
+surely an advantage which greatly overbalances this trifling incon- 
+veniency. The public, too, might derive still greater benefit from 
+it, if the constitution of those schools and colleges, in which edu- 
+cation is carried on, was more reasonable than it is at present 
+through the greater part of Europe. 
+
+Thirdly, the policy of Europe, by obstructing the free circula- 
+tion of labour and stock, both from employment to employment, 
+and from place to place, occasions, in some cases, a very inconve- 
+nient inequality in the whole of the ad vantages and disadvantages 
+of their different employments. 
+
+T he statute of apprenticeship obstructs the free circulation of 
+labour from one employment to another, even in the same place. 
+T heexdusive privileges of corporationsobstruct it from one place 
+to another, even in the same employment. 
+
+It frequently happens, that while high wages are given to the 
+
+
+
+116 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+workmen in one manufacture, those in another are obliged to 
+content themselves with bare subsistence. The one is in an ad- 
+vancing state, and hasthereforea continual demand for new hands; 
+the other is in a declining state, and the superabundance of hands 
+iscontinually increasing. Those two manufactures may sometimes 
+bein thesametown, and sometimesin the same neighbourhood, 
+without being able to lend the least assistance to oneanother. The 
+statute of apprenticeship may oppose it in the one case, and both 
+that and an exclusive corporation in the other. In many different 
+manufactures, however, theoperationsareso much alike, that the 
+workmen could easily change trades with one another, if those 
+absurd lawsdid not hinder them. Theartsof weaving plain linen 
+and plain silk, for example, are almost entirely the same. That of 
+weaving plain woollen is somewhat different; butthedifferenceis 
+so insignificant, that either a linen or a silk weaver might become 
+a tolerable workman in a very few days. If any of those three capi- 
+tal manufactures, therefore, were decaying, the workmen might 
+find a resource in oneof the other two which wasin a more pros- 
+perous condition ; and their wages would neither rise too high in 
+the thriving, nor sink too low in the decaying manufacture. The 
+linen manufacture, indeed, is in England, by a particular statute, 
+open to every body; but as it is not much cultivated through the 
+greater part of thecountry, it can afford no general resourceto the 
+
+
+
+work men of other decaying manufactures, who, wherever thestat- 
+uteof apprenticeship takesplace, haveno other choice, but dither 
+to come upon the parish, or to work as common labourers; for 
+which, by their habits, they are much worse qualified than for any 
+sort of manufacture that bears any resemblance to their own. T hey 
+generally, therefore, chuseto come upon the parish. 
+
+Whatever obstructs thefree circulation of labour from oneem- 
+ployment to another, obstructs that of stock likewise; thequantity 
+of stock which can be employed in any branch of business de- 
+pending very much upon that of the labour which can be em- 
+ployed in it. Corporation laws, however, give less obstruction to 
+the free circulation of stock from one place to another, than to 
+that of labour. It is everywhere much easier for a wealthy mer- 
+chantto obtain the privilege of trading in a town-corporate, than 
+for a poor artificer to obtain that of working in it. 
+
+The obstruction which corporation laws give to the free circula- 
+tion of labour is common, I believe, to every part of Europe. That 
+which isgiven to it by the poor laws is, so far as I know, peculiar to 
+England. It consists in the difficulty which a poor man finds in 
+obtaining a settlement, or even in being allowed to exercise his in- 
+dustry in any parish but that to which hebelongs It isthelabour of 
+artificers and manufacturers only of which the free circulation is 
+obstructed by corporation laws. The difficulty of obtaining settle- 
+
+
+
+117 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+merits obstructs even that of common labour. It may be worth while 
+to give some account of the rise, progress, and present state of this 
+disorder, thegreatest, perhaps, of anyin thepolice of England. 
+
+When, by the destruction of monasteries, the poor had been 
+deprived of the charity of those religious houses, after some other 
+ineffectual attempts for their relief, it was enacted, by the 43d of 
+Elizabeth, c. 2. that every parish should be bound to provide for 
+its own poor, and that overseers of the poor should be annually 
+appointed, who, with the church -ward ens, should raise, by a par- 
+ish rate, competent sums for this purpose. 
+
+By this statute, the necessity of providing for their own poor 
+was indispensably imposed upon every parish. Who were to be 
+considered as the poor of each parish became, therefore, a ques- 
+tion of someimportanceThisquestion, after some variation, was 
+at lastdetermined bythel3th and 14th of Charlesl I. when it was 
+enacted, that forty days undisturbed residence should gain any 
+person a settlement in any parish; but that within that time it 
+should be lawful for two justices of the peace, upon complaint 
+made by the church-wardens or overseers of the poor, to remove 
+any new inhabitant to the parish where he was last legally settled; 
+unless he either rented a tenement of ten pounds a-year, or could 
+give such security for the discharge of the parish where he was 
+then living, as thosejustices should judge sufficient. 
+
+
+
+Some frauds, it is said, were committed in consequence of this 
+statute; parish officers sometime's bribing their own poor to go 
+clandestinely to an other parish, and, by keeping themselves con- 
+cealed for forty days, to gain a settlement there, to thedischargeof 
+that to which they properly belonged. It was enacted, therefore, 
+by the 1st of J ames 1 1 . that theforty days undisturbed residence of 
+any person necessary to gain a settlement, should be accounted 
+onlyfromthetimeof hisdelivering notice, in writing, of theplace 
+of his abode and the number of hisfamily, to one of the church- 
+wardens or overseers of the parish where he came to dwell. 
+
+But parish officers, it seems, were not always more honest with 
+regard to their own than they had been with regard to other par- 
+ishes, and sometimes connived at such intrusions, receiving the 
+notice, and taking no proper steps in consequence of it. As every 
+person in a parish, therefore, was supposed to have an interest to 
+prevent as much as possible their being burdened by such intrud- 
+ers, it was further enacted by the 3rd of William 1 1 1, that theforty 
+days residence should be accounted only from the publication of 
+such noticein writing on Sunday in thechurch, immediately after 
+divine service. 
+
+"After all," says Doctor Burn, "this kind of settlement, by con- 
+tinuing forty days after publication of notice in writing, is very 
+seldom obtained; and the design of the acts is not so much for 
+
+
+
+118 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+gaining of settlements, as for the avoiding of them by persons 
+coming into a parish clandestinely, for thegiving of noticeisonly 
+putting a force upon the parish to remove. But if a person's situa- 
+tion issuch, that it isdoubtful whether heisactuallyremovableor 
+not, hesh all, by givingof notice, compel theparish either to allow 
+him a settlement uncontested, by suffering him to continueforty 
+days, or by removing him to try the right." 
+
+This statute, therefore, rendered it almost impracticable for a 
+poor man to gain a new settlement in the old way, by forty days 
+inhabitancy. But that it might not appear to preclude altogether 
+the common people of one' parish from ever establishing them- 
+selves with security in another, it appointed four other ways by 
+which a settlement might be gained without any notice delivered 
+or published. The first was, by being taxed to parish rates and 
+paying them; the second, by being elected into an annual parish 
+office, and serving in it ayear; thethird, by serving an apprentice- 
+ship in theparish; thefourth, by being hired into service there for 
+ayear, and continuingin the same serviceduring the wholeof it. 
+N obody can gain a settlement by either of thetwo first ways, but 
+by the public deed of the whole parish, who are too well aware of 
+the consequences to adopt any new-comer, who has nothing but 
+his labour to support him, either by taxing him to parish rates, or 
+by electing him into a parish office. 
+
+
+
+N o married man can well gain any settlement in either of the 
+two last ways. An apprentice is scarce ever married; and it is 
+expressly enacted, that no married servant shall gain any settle- 
+ment by being hired for a year. The principal effect of introduc- 
+ing settlement by service, has been to put out in a great measure 
+the old fashion of hiring for a year; which before had been so 
+customary in England, that even at this day, if no particular term 
+is agreed upon, the law intends that every servant is hired for a 
+year. But masters are not always willing to give their servants a 
+settlement by hiring them in this manner; and servants are not 
+always willing to be so hired, because, as every last settlement 
+discharges all theforegoing, they might thereby lose their origi- 
+nal settlement in the places of their nativity, the habitation of 
+their parents and relations. 
+
+No independent workman, it is evident, whether labourer or 
+artificer, islikelyto gain anynew settlement, either by apprentice- 
+ship or by service. When such a person, therefore, carried his in- 
+dustry to a new parish, he was liable to be removed, how healthy 
+and industrioussoever, at thecapriceof any churchwarden or over- 
+seer, unless he either rented a tenement of ten pounds a-year, a 
+thing impossible for one who has nothing but his labour to live 
+by, or could give such security for the discharge of the parish as 
+two justices of the peace should judge sufficient. 
+
+
+
+119 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+What security they shall require, indeed, is left altogether to 
+their discretion; but they cannot well require less than thirty 
+pounds, it having been enacted, that the purchase even of a free- 
+hold estate of less than thirty pounds value, shall not gain any 
+person asettl em ent, asnot being sufficient for thedischargeof the 
+parish. But this is a security which scarce any man who lives by 
+labour can give; and much greater secu rity isfrequ en tly demanded. 
+
+In order to restore, in some measure, that free circulation of 
+labour which those different statutes had almost entirely taken 
+away, the invention of certificates was fall en upon. Bythe8th and 
+9th of William III. it was enacted that if any person should bring 
+a certificate from the parish where he was last legally settled, sub- 
+scribed by the church -ward ens and overseers of the poor, and al- 
+lowed by two justices of the peace, that every other parish should 
+beobliged to receivehim; that heshould not be removable merely 
+upon account of his being likely to become chargeable, but only 
+upon his becoming actually chargeable; and that then the parish 
+which granted thecertificate should beobliged to pay theexpense 
+both of his maintenance and of his removal. And in order to give 
+themost perfect security to theparish wheresuch certificated man 
+should come to reside, it was further enacted by the same statute, 
+that he should gain no settlement there by any means whatever, 
+except either by renting a tenement of ten pounds a-year, or by 
+
+
+
+serving upon his own account in an annual parish office for one 
+wholeyear; and consequently neither by notice nor by service, nor 
+by apprenticeship, nor by paying parish rates. Bythel2th of Queen 
+Anne, too, stat. 1, c.18, it was further enacted, that neither the 
+servants nor apprentices of such certificated man should gain any 
+settlement in the parish where he resided under such certificate. 
+
+H ow far thisinvention has restored that free circulation of labour, 
+which the preceding statutes had almost entirely taken away, we 
+may learn from thefollowing very judicious observation of Doc- 
+tor Burn. "It is obvious," says he, "that there are divers good rea- 
+sonsfor requiring certificateswith personscoming to settlein any 
+place; namely, that persons residing under them can gain no settle- 
+ment, neither by apprenticeship, nor by service, nor by giving 
+notice, nor by paying parish rates; that they can settle neither ap- 
+prentices nor servants; that if they become chargeable, it is cer- 
+tainly known whither to remove them, and the parish shall be 
+paid for the removal, and for their maintenance in the mean time; 
+and that, if they fall sick, and cannot be removed, theparish which 
+gave the certificate must main tain them; noneof all which can be 
+without a certificate. Which reasons will hold proportionablyfor 
+parishes not granting certificates in ordinary cases; for it is far 
+more than an equal chance, butthat they will have the certificated 
+personsagain, and in aworse condition. "Themoral of thisobser- 
+
+
+
+120 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+vation seemsto be, that certificates ought always to be required by 
+the parish where any poor man comes to reside, and that they 
+ought very seldom to be granted by that which he purposes to 
+leave. "There is somewhat of hardship in this matter of certifi- 
+cates," says the same very intelligent author, in his History of the 
+Poor Laws, "by putting it in the power of a parish officer to im- 
+prison a man as it were for life, however inconvenient it may be 
+for him to continue at that place where he has had the misfortune 
+to acquire what is called a settlement, or whatever advantage he 
+may propose himself by living elsewhere." 
+
+Though a certificate carries along with it no testimonial of good 
+behaviour, and certifies nothing but that the person belongs to 
+the parish to which he really does belong, it is altogether discre- 
+tionary in the parish officers either to grant or to refuse it. A man- 
+damus was once moved for, says Doctor Burn, to compel the 
+church -ward en sand overseers to sign a certificate; but the Court 
+of King's Bench rejected themotion as a very strange attempt. 
+
+The very unequal price of labour which we frequently find in 
+England, in pi aces at no great distance from oneanother, is prob- 
+ably owing to the obstruction which the law of settlements gives 
+to a poor man who would carry his industry from one parish to 
+another without a certificate. A single man, indeed who is healthy 
+and industrious, may sometimes resideby sufferance without one; 
+
+
+
+but a man with a wife and family who should attempt to do so, 
+would, in most parishes, be sure of being removed; and, if the 
+single man should afterwards marry, he would generally be re- 
+moved likewise. The scarcity of hands in one parish, therefore, 
+cannot always be relieved by their superabundance in another, as 
+it is constantly in Scotland, and. I believe, in all other countries 
+where there is no difficulty of settlement. I n such countries, though 
+wages may sometimes risea little in the neighbourhood of agreat 
+town, or wherever else thereisan extraordinary demand forlabour, 
+and sink gradually as the distance from such places increases, till 
+they fall back to the common rate of the country; yet we never 
+meet with those sudden and unaccountabledifferencesin thewages 
+ofneighbouringplaceswhichwesometimesfindin England, where 
+it isoften moredifficultforapoormantopasstheartificial bound- 
+ary of a parish, than an arm of the sea, or a ridge of high moun- 
+tains, natural boundaries which sometimes separate very distinctly 
+different rates of wages in other countries. 
+
+To remove a man who has committed no misdemeanour, from 
+the parish where he chooses to reside, is an evident violation of 
+natural liberty and justice. Thecommon peopleof England, how- 
+ever, so jealous of their liberty, but like the common people of 
+most other countries, never rightly understanding wherein it con- 
+sists, have now, for more than a century together, suffered them- 
+
+
+
+121 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+selves to be exposed to this oppression without a remedy. T hough 
+men of reflection, too, have some, times complained of the law of 
+settlements as a public grievance; yet it has never been the object 
+of any general popular clamour, such as that against general war- 
+rants, an abusive practice undoubtedly, but such a one as was not 
+likely to occasion any general oppression. There is scarce a poor 
+man in England, of forty years of age, I will venture to say, who 
+hasnot, in somepart of his life, felt himself most cruelly oppressed 
+by this ill-contrived law of settlements. 
+
+I shall conclude this long chapter with observing, that though 
+anciently it was usual to rate wages, first by general laws extending 
+overthewholekingdom, and afterwards by particular orders of the 
+justices of peace in every particular county, both these practices have 
+now gone entirely into disuse. "By the experience of above four 
+hundred years," says Doctor Burn, "it seems time to lay aside all 
+endeavoursto bring under strict regulations, what in its own nature 
+seems incapable of minute limitation; for if all persons in the same 
+kind of work were to receiveequal wages, there would beno emula- 
+tion, and no room left for industry or ingenuity." 
+
+Particular acts of parliament, however, still attempt sometimes 
+to regulate wages in particular trades, and in particular places. 
+Thus the 8th of George II I. prohibits, under heavy penalties, all 
+master tailors in London, and five miles round it, from giving, 
+
+
+
+and their workmen from accepting, more than two shillings and 
+sevenpencehalfpennya-day, except in thecaseof a general mourn- 
+i n g. W h en ever th e I egi si atu re attem pts to regu I ate th e d i ff eren ces 
+between masters and their workmen, its counsellorsare always the 
+masters. W hen the regulation, therefore, is in favour of the work- 
+men, it isalwaysjust and equitable; but it issometimes otherwise 
+when in favour of the masters. Thus the law which obliges the 
+mastersin several different trades to pay their workmen in money, 
+and not in goods, is quite just and equitable. It imposes no real 
+hardship upon the masters. It only obligesthem to pay that value 
+in money, which they pretended to pay, but did not always really 
+pay, in goods. Thislaw isin favour of the workmen; butthe8th of 
+George III. is in favour of the masters. W hen masters combine 
+together, in order to reduce the wages of their workmen, they 
+commonly enter into a private bond or agreement, not to give 
+more than a certain wage, under a certain penalty. Were the work- 
+men to enter into a contrary combination of the same kind, not to 
+accept of a certain wage, under a certain penalty, the law would 
+punish them very severely; and, if it dealt impartially, it would 
+treat the masters in the same manner. But the 8th of George III. 
+enforces by law that very regulation which masters sometimes at- 
+tempt to establish by such combinations. The complaint of the 
+workmen, that it puts the ablest and most industrious upon the 
+
+
+
+122 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+same footing with an ordinary workman, seems perfectly well 
+founded. 
+
+In ancient times, too, it was usual to attempt to regulate the 
+profits of merchants and other dealers, by regulating the price of 
+provisionsand ether goods. T heassizeof bread is, so far as I know, 
+the only remnant of this ancient usage. W here there is an exclu- 
+sive corporation, it may, perhaps, be proper to regulate the price 
+of the first necessary of life; but, wherethereisnone, the compe- 
+tition will regulate it much better than any assize. The method of 
+fixing the assize of bread, established by the 31st of George II. 
+could not be put in practice in Scotland, on account of a defect in 
+the law, its execution depending upon the office of clerk of the 
+market, which does not exist there. This defect was not remedied 
+till the third of George 1 1 1. The want of an assize occasioned no 
+sensible inconveniency; and the establishment of one in the few 
+places where it has yet taken place has produced no sensible ad- 
+vantage. In the greater part of the towns in Scotland, however, 
+thereisan incorporation of bakers, who claim exclusiveprivileges, 
+though they arenot very strictly guarded. Theproportion between 
+the different rates, both of wages and profit, in the different em- 
+ployments of labour and stock, seems not to be much affected, as 
+has already been observed, by therichesor poverty, theadvancing, 
+stationary, or declining state of thesociety Such revolutionsinthe 
+
+
+
+public welfare, though they affect the general rates both of wages 
+and profit, must, in the end, affect them equally in all different 
+employments. The proportion between them, therefore, must re- 
+main the same, and cannot well be altered, at least for any consid- 
+erabletime, by any such revolutions. 
+
+
+
+123 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI 
+
+OFTHE RENT OFLAND 
+
+Rent, considered as the price paid for theuseof land, isnaturally 
+the highest which the tenant can afford to pay in the actual cir- 
+cumstances of the land. In adjusting the terms of the lease, the 
+landlord endeavours to leave him no greater share of the produce 
+than what is sufficient to keep up the stock from which he fur- 
+nishes the seed, pays the labour, and purchases and maintainsthe 
+cattleand other instruments of husbandry, together with theordi- 
+nary profits of farming stock in the neighbourhood. This is evi- 
+dently thesmallest share with which the tenant can content him- 
+self, without being a loser, and the landlord seldom meansto leave 
+him any more. W hatever part of the produce, or, what is the same 
+thing, whatever part of its price, is over and above this share, he 
+naturally endeavours to reserve to himself as the rent of his land, 
+which is evidently the highest the tenant can afford to pay in the 
+actual circumstances of the land. Sometimes, indeed, the liberal- 
+ity, more frequently the ignorance, of the landlord, makes him 
+accept of somewhat less than this portion; and sometimes, too, 
+though more rarely, the ignorance of the tenant makes him un- 
+dertake to pay somewhat more, or to content himself with some- 
+
+
+
+what less, than the ordinary profits of farming stock in the 
+neighbourhood. This portion, however, may still be considered as 
+the natural rent of land, or the rent at which it is naturally meant 
+that land should, for the most part, be let. 
+
+The rent of land, it may bethought, is frequently no more than a 
+reasonable profit or interest for the stock laid out by the landlord 
+upon its improvement. This, no doubt, maybepartlythecaseupon 
+some occasions; for it can scarce ever be more than partly the case. 
+The landlord demands a rent even for unimproved land, and the 
+supposed interest or profit upon the expense of improvement is 
+generally an addition to this original rent. Those improvements, 
+besides, arenot always made by the stock of thelandlord, but some- 
+times by that of the tenant. W hen the lease comes to be renewed, 
+however, thelandlord commonly demandsthe same augmentation 
+of rent as if they had been all made by his own. 
+
+Hesometimes demands rent for what is altogether incapable of 
+human improvements. Kelpisaspeciesof sea-weed, which, when 
+burnt, yieldsan alkalinesalt, useful for making glass, soap, and for 
+several other purposes. It grows in several parts of Great Britain, 
+particularly in Scotland, upon such rocks only as lie within the 
+high-water mark, which are twice every day covered with the sea, 
+and of which the produce, therefore, was never augmented by 
+human industry. Thelandlord, however, whose estate is bounded 
+
+
+
+124 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+by a kelp shore of this kind, demands a rent for it as much as for 
+his corn-fields. 
+
+Theseaintheneighbourhood of theislandsof Shetland ismore 
+than commonly abundant in fish, which makes a great part of the 
+subsistence of their inhabitants But, in order to profit by thepro- 
+duce of the water, they must have a habitation upon the 
+neighbouring land. The rent of the landlord is in proportion, not 
+to what thefarmer can make by the land, but to what he can make 
+both by the land and the water. It is partly paid in sea-fish; and 
+one of the very few instances in which rent makes a part of the 
+price of that commodity, isto be found in that country. 
+
+The rent of land, therefore, considered as the price paid for the 
+use of the land, is naturally a monopoly price. It is not at all pro- 
+portioned to what the landlord may have laid out upon the im- 
+provement of the land, or to what he can afford to take, but to 
+what thefarmer can afford to give. 
+
+Such partsonlyof theproduceof land can commonly be brought 
+to market, of which the ordinary price is sufficient to replace the 
+stock which must be employed in bringing them thither, together 
+with its ordinary profits. If the ordinary price is more than this, 
+the surplus part of it will naturally go to the rent of the land. If it 
+is not more, though the commodity may be brought to market, it 
+can afford no rent to the landlord. W hether the price is, or is not 
+
+
+
+more, depends upon the demand. 
+
+T here are some parts of the produce of land, for which the de- 
+mand must always be such as to afford a greater pricethan what is 
+sufficient to bring them to market; and there are others for which 
+it either may or may not be such as to afford this greater price. 
+The former must always afford a rent to the landlord. The latter 
+sometimes may and sometimes may not, according to different 
+circumstances. 
+
+Rent, it isto be observed, therefore, enters into thecomposition 
+of the price of commodities in a different way from wages and 
+profit. High or low wages and prof it are the causes of high or low 
+price; high or low rent is the effect of it. It is because high or low 
+wages and profit must be paid, in order to bring a particular com- 
+modity to market, that its price is high or low. But it is because its 
+price is high or low, a great deal more, or very little more, or no 
+more, than what is sufficient to pay those wages and profit, that it 
+affords a high rent, or a low rent, or no rent at all. 
+
+The particular consideration, first, of those parts of theproduce 
+of land which always afford some rent; secondly, of those which 
+sometimes may and sometimes may not afford rent; and, thirdly, 
+of the variations which, in the different periods of improvement, 
+naturally take place in the relative value of those two different 
+sorts of rude produce, when compared both with one another and 
+
+
+
+125 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+with manufactured commodities, will divide this chapter into three 
+parts. 
+
+PART I.— Of the Produce of Land which alwaysaffordsRent. 
+
+Asmen, likeall other animals, naturally multiply in proportion 
+to the means of their subsistence, food is always more or less in 
+demand. It can always purchase or command a greater or smaller 
+quantity of labour, and somebody can always be found who is 
+willing to do something in order to obtain it. The quantity of 
+labour, indeed, which it can purchase, is not always equal to what 
+it could maintain, if managed in the most economical manner, on 
+account of the high wages which are sometimes given to labour; 
+but it can always purchase such a quantity of labour as it can 
+maintain, according to the rate at which that sort of labour is 
+commonly maintained in the neighbourhood. 
+
+But land, in almost any situation, produces a greater quantity of 
+food than what is sufficient to maintain all the labour necessary 
+for bringing it to market, in the most liberal way in which that 
+labour is ever maintained. The surplus, too, is always more than 
+sufficient to replace the stock which employed that labour, to- 
+gether with its profits. Something, therefore, always remains for a 
+rent to the landlord. 
+
+T he most desert moors in N orway and Scotland produce some 
+
+
+
+sort of pasture for cattle, of which the milk and the increase are 
+always more than sufficient, not only to maintain all the labour 
+necessary for tending them, and to pay the ordinary profit to the 
+farmer or the owner of the herd or flock, but to afford somesmall 
+rent to thelandlord. The rent increases in proportion to thegood- 
+nessof the pasture. The same extent of ground not only maintains 
+a greater number of cattle, but as they webrought within asmaller 
+compass, less labour becomes requisite to tend them, and to col- 
+lect their produce. Thelandlord gains both ways; by the increase 
+of the produce, and by the diminution of the labour which must 
+be maintained out of it. 
+
+The rent of land not only varies with its fertility, whatever be its 
+produce, but with its situation, whatever be its fertility. Land in 
+the neighbourhood of a town givesa greater rent than land equally 
+fertile in a distant part of the country. Though it may cost no 
+more labour to cultivate the one than the other, it must always 
+cost more to bring the produce of the distant land to market. A 
+greater quantity of labour, therefore, must be maintained out of 
+it; and the surplus, from which are drawn both the profit of the 
+farmer and the rent of the landlord, must be diminished. But in 
+remote parts of the country, the rate of profit, as has already been 
+shewn, is generally higher than in the neighbourhood of a large 
+town. A smaller proportion of this diminished surplus, therefore, 
+
+
+
+126 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+must belong to the landlord. 
+
+Good roads, canals, and navigable rivers, by diminishing the 
+expen seof carriage, put theremote parts of thecountrymorenearly 
+upon a level with those in the neighbourhood of the town. They 
+are upon that account the greatest of all improvements. They en- 
+courage the cultivation of the remote, which must always be the 
+most extensive cirdeof thecountry. T hey are advantageous to the 
+town by breaking down the monopoly of the country in its 
+neighbourhood. They are advantageous even to that part of the 
+country. Though they introduce some rival commodities into the 
+old market, they open many new markets to its produce. M o- 
+nopoly, besides, is a great enemy to good management, which can 
+never be universally established, but in consequence of that free 
+and universal competition which forces every body to have re 
+course to it for the sake of self defence. It is not more than fifty 
+years ago, that someofthecountiesintheneighbourhood of Lon- 
+don petitioned the parliament against the extension of theturn- 
+pikeroadsintotheremotercounties.Thoseremotercounties, they 
+pretended, from the cheapness of labour, would be able to sell 
+their grass and corn cheaper in the London market than them- 
+selves, and would thereby reduce their rents, and ruin their culti- 
+vation. Their rents, however, have risen, and their cultivation has 
+been improved si nee that time. 
+
+
+
+A corn field of moderatefertility producesa much greater quan- 
+tity of food for man, than the best pastureof equal extent. T hough 
+its cultivation requires much more labour, yet the surplus which 
+remainsafter replacing the seed and maintaining all that labour, is 
+likewisemuch greater. If apound of butcher's meat, therefore, was 
+never supposed to be worth more than a pound of bread, this 
+greater surplus would everywhere be of greater value and consti- 
+tute a greater fund, both for the profit of the farmer and the rent 
+of the landlord. It seems to have done so universally in the rude 
+beginnings of agriculture. 
+
+But the relative values of those two different species of food, 
+bread and butcher's meat, are very different in the different peri- 
+ods of agriculture. In its rude beginnings, the unimproved wilds, 
+which then occupy thefar greater part of thecountry, are all aban- 
+doned to cattle. There is more butcher's meat than bread; and 
+bread, therefore, isthefood for which thereisthegreatest compe- 
+tition, and which consequently brings thegreatest price. At Buenos 
+Ayres, we are told by Ulloa, four reals, one-and-twenty pence 
+halfpenny sterling, was, forty or fifty years ago, the ordinary price 
+of an ox, chosen from a herd of two or three hundred. H e says 
+nothing of thepriceof bread, probably because hefound nothing 
+remarkable about it. An ox there, he says, costs little more than 
+the labour of catching him. But corn can nowhere be raised with - 
+
+
+
+127 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+out a great deal of labour; and in a country which lies upon the 
+river Plate, at that time the direct road from Europe to the silver 
+minesof Potosi,themoney-priceof labour could be very cheap. It 
+is otherwise when cultivation is extended over the greater part of 
+the country. T here is then more bread than butcher's meat. T he 
+competition changes its direction, and the price of butcher's meat 
+becomes greater than the price of bread. 
+
+By the extension, besides, of cultivation, the unimproved wilds 
+become insufficient to supply the demand for butcher's meat. A 
+great part of the cultivated landsmust be employed in rearing and 
+fattening cattle; of which the price, therefore, must be sufficient 
+to pay, not only the labour necessary for tending them, but the 
+rent which the landlord, and the profit which the farmer, could 
+have drawn from such land employed in tillage. The cattle bred 
+upon the most uncultivated moors, when brought to the same 
+market, are, in proportion to their weight or goodness, sold at the 
+same price as those which are reared upon the most improved 
+land. The proprietors of those moors profit by it, and raise the 
+rent of their land in proportion to thepriceof their cattle. Itisnot 
+more than a century ago, that in many parts of the Highlands of 
+Scotland, butcher's meat was as cheap or cheaper than even bread 
+madeof oatmeal T heU nion opened the market of England to the 
+H ighland cattle. Their ordinary price, at present, is about three 
+
+
+
+times greater than at thebeginningof thecentury, and therentsof 
+many H ighland estates have been tripled and quadrupled in the 
+same time. In almost every part of Great Britain, a pound of the 
+best butcher's meat is, in the present times, generally worth more 
+than two pounds of the best white bread; and in plentiful years it 
+is sometimes worth three or four pounds. 
+
+It is thus that, in the progress of improvement, the rent and 
+profit of unimproved pasture come to be regulated in some mea- 
+sure by the rent and profit of what is improved, and these again by 
+therentand profitof corn. Corn isan annual crop; butcher's meat, 
+a crop which requiresfour or five years to grow. Asan acreof land, 
+therefore, will produceamuch smaller quantity of theonespecies 
+of food than of the other, the inferiority of the quantity must be 
+compensated by the superiority of the price. I f it was more than 
+compensated, more corn-land would be turned into pasture; and 
+if it was not compensated, part of what was in pasture would be 
+brought back into corn. 
+
+Thisequality, however, between therentand profitof grass and 
+those of corn; of theland of which the immediate produce isfood 
+for cattle, and of that of which the immediate produce isfood for 
+men, must be understood to take place only through the greater 
+part of the improved lands of a great country. I n some particular 
+local situations it is quite otherwise, and the rent and profit of 
+
+
+
+128 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+grass are much superior to what can be made by corn. 
+
+T hus, in the neighbourhood of a great town, the demand for 
+milk, and for forage to horses, frequently contribute, together with 
+the high price of butcher's meat, to raise the value of grass above 
+what may be called its natural proportion to that of corn. This 
+local advantage, it isevident, cannot be communicated to thelands 
+at a distance. 
+
+Particular circumstances have sometimes rendered some coun- 
+tries so populous, that the whole territory, like the lands in the 
+neighbourhood of a great town, has not been sufficient to pro- 
+duce both the grass and the corn necessary for the subsistence of 
+their inhabitants Their lands, therefore, have been principally 
+employed in the production of grass, the more bulky commodity, 
+and which cannot be so easily brought from a great distance; and 
+corn, the food of the great body of the people, has been chiefly 
+imported from foreign countries. H olland isat present in thissitu- 
+ation; and a considerable part of ancient Italy seems to have been 
+so during the prosperity of the Romans. To feed well, old Cato 
+said, as we are told by C icero, was the first and most profitable 
+thing in the management of a private estate; to feed tolerably well, 
+thesecond; and to feed ill, thethird. To plough, heranked only in 
+the fourth place of profit and advantage. Tillage, indeed, in that 
+part of ancient Italy which lay in the neighbour hood of Rome, 
+
+
+
+must have been very much discouraged by the distributions of 
+corn which were frequently made to the people, either gratuitously, 
+or at a very low price. T his corn was brought from the conquered 
+provinces, of which several, instead of taxes, were obliged to fur- 
+nish a tenth part of their produceat a stated price, about sixpence 
+a-peck, to the republic. T he low price at which this corn was dis- 
+tributed to the people, must necessarily have sunk the price of 
+what could be brought to the Roman market from Latium, or the 
+ancient territory of Rome, and must have discouraged its cultiva- 
+tion in that country. 
+
+I n an open country, too, of which theprincipal produceiscorn, 
+a well-inclosed piece of grass will frequently rent higher than any 
+cornfield in its neighbourhood. It is convenient for the mainte- 
+nance of the cattle employed in the cultivation of thecorn; and its 
+high rent is, in this case, not so properly paid from the value of its 
+own produce, as from that of thecorn lands which are cultivated 
+bymeansof it. 1 1 is likely to fall, if evertheneighbouringlandsare 
+completely inclosed. The present high rent of inclosed land in 
+Scotland seems owing to the scarcity of indosure, and will prob- 
+ably last no longer than that scarcity. Theadvantage of inclosu re is 
+greater for pasture than for corn. It saves the labour of guarding 
+the cattle, which feed better, too, when they are not liable to be 
+disturbed by their keeper or his dog. 
+
+
+
+129 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+But where there is no local advantage of this kind, the rent and 
+profit of corn, or whatever else is the common vegetable food of 
+the people, must naturally regulate upon the land which isfit for 
+producing it, the rent and profit of pasture. 
+
+The use of the artificial grasses, of turnips, carrots, cabbages, 
+and the other expedients which have been fallen upon to make an 
+equal quantity of land feed a greater number of cattle than when 
+in natural grass, should somewhat reduce, it might be expected, 
+thesuperiority which, in an improved country, thepriceof butcher's 
+meat naturally has over that of bread. It seems accordingly to have 
+done so; and there issome reason for believing that, at least in the 
+London market, thepriceof butcher's meat, in proportion to the 
+price of bread, isagood deal lower in the present times than it was 
+in the beginning of the last century. 
+
+In the Appendix to the life of Prince Henry, Doctor Birch has 
+given us an account of the prices of butcher's meat as commonly 
+paid by that prince. It istheresaid, thatthefour quartersof an ox, 
+weighing six hundred pounds, usually cost him nine pounds ten 
+shillings, or thereabouts; that isthirty-oneshillings and eight-pence 
+per hundred pounds weight. Prince H enry died on the 6th of 
+November 1612, in the nineteenth year of hisage. 
+
+In M arch 1764, therewasa parliamentary inquiry into thecauses 
+of the high price of provisions at that time. It was then, among 
+
+
+
+other proof to the same purpose, given in evidence by a Virginia 
+merchant, that in M arch 1763, he had victualled his ships for 
+twentyfour or twenty-five shillings the hundred weight of beef, 
+which he considered as the ordinary price; whereas, in that dear 
+year, he had paid twenty-seven shillings for the same weight and 
+sort. This high price in 1764 is, however, four shillingsand eight- 
+pencecheaper than theordinary price paid by Prince H enry; and 
+it isthe best beef only, it must beobserved, which isfit to besalted 
+for those distant voyages. 
+
+Theprice paid by PrinceH enry amounts to 3d. 4/5thsper pound 
+weight of the whole carcase, coarse and choice pieces taken to- 
+gether; and at that rate thechoice pieces could not have been sold 
+by retail for less than 4%d. or 5d. the pound. 
+
+I n the parliamentary inquiry in 1764, the witnesses stated the 
+price of the choice pieces of the best beef to be to the consumer 
+4d. and 4Y2d. the pound; and the coarse pieces in general to be 
+from seven farthingsto IViti, and 2 3 /4d.; and this, they said, was in 
+general one halfpenny dearer than the same sort of pieces had 
+usually been sold in themonth of M arch. But even this high price 
+is still a good deal cheaper than what we can well suppose the 
+ordinary retail price to have been in thetime of PrinceH enry. 
+
+D uring thefirst twel veyears of thelast century, theaverage price 
+of the best wheat at the Windsor market was £ l:18:3%d. the 
+
+
+
+130 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+quarter of nineW inchester bushels. 
+
+But in the twelve years preceding 1764 including that year, the 
+average price of the same measure of the best wheat at the same 
+market was £ 2:l:9^d. 
+
+I n thefirst twelve years of the last century therefore, wheat ap- 
+pears to have been a good deal cheaper, and butcher's meat a good 
+deal dearer, than in the twelve years preceding 1764, including 
+that year. 
+
+In all great countries, thegreater part of thecultivated landsare 
+employed in producing either food for men or food for cattle. T he 
+rent and profit of these regulate the rent and profit of all other 
+cultivated land. If any particular produce afforded less, the land 
+would soon be turned into corn or pasture; and if any afforded 
+more, some part of the lands in corn or pasture would soon be 
+turned to that produce. 
+
+Those productions, indeed, which requireeither a greater origi- 
+nal expense of improvement, or a greater annual expense of culti- 
+vation in order to fit the land for them, appear commonly to af- 
+ford, the one a greater rent, theother a greater profit, than corn or 
+pasture. Thissuperiority however, will seldom befound to amount 
+to more than a reasonable interest or compensation for this supe- 
+rior expense. 
+
+I n a hop garden, a fruit garden, a kitchen garden, both the rent 
+
+
+
+of the landlord, and the profit of the farmer, are generally greater 
+than in acorn or grass field. But to bring the ground into this 
+condition requires more expense. H ence a greater rent becomes 
+dueto the landlord. It requires, too, a more attentive and skilful 
+management. H ence a greater profit becomes due to the farmer. 
+The crop, too, at least in the hop and fruit garden, is more pre- 
+carious. Its price, therefore, besides compensating all occasional 
+losses, must afford something like the profit of insurance. The 
+circumstances of gardeners, generally mean, and always moder- 
+ate, may satisfy usthat their great ingenuity is not commonly over- 
+recompensed. Their delightful art is practised by so many rich 
+peoplefor amusement, that littleadvantageistobemadeby those 
+who practise it for profit; because the persons who should natu- 
+rally be their best customers, supply themselves with all their most 
+precious productions. 
+
+The advantage which the landlord derives from such improve- 
+ments, seemsatnotimeto have been greater than what was suffi- 
+cient to compensate theoriginal expense of making them. In the 
+ancient husbandry, after the vineyard, a well-watered kitchen gar- 
+den seems to have been the part of the farm which was supposed 
+to yield the most valuable produce. But D emocritus, who wrote 
+upon husbandry about two thousand years ago, and who was re- 
+garded by the ancients as one of the fathers of the art, thought 
+
+
+
+131 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+they did not act wisely who inclosed a kitchen garden. The profit, 
+he said, would not compensate the expense of a stone-wall: and 
+bricks (he meant, I suppose, bricks baked in the sun) mouldered 
+with the rain and the winter-storm, and required continual re- 
+pairs. Columella, who reports thisjudgment of Democritus, does 
+not controvert it, but proposes a very frugal method of inclosing 
+with a hedge of brambles and briars, which he says he had found 
+by experience to be both a lasting an dan impenetrablefence; but 
+which, it seems, was not commonly known in the time of 
+Democritus. Palladius adopts the opinion of Columella, which 
+had before been recommended byVarro. Inthejudgmentofthose 
+ancient improvers, the produce of a kitchen garden had, it seems, 
+been little more than sufficient to pay the extraordinary culture 
+and the expense of watering; for in countries so near the sun, it 
+was thought proper, in thosetimesasin the present, to have the 
+command of a stream of water, which could be conducted to ev- 
+ery bed in thegarden. T hrough thegreater part of Europe, a kitchen 
+garden is not at present supposed to deserve a better in closure 
+than mat recommended by Columella. In Great Britain, and some 
+other northern countries, the finer fruits cannot Be brought to 
+perfection but by the assi stan ce of a wal I . T hei r pri ce, therefore, in 
+such countries, must be sufficient to pay the expense of building 
+and maintaining what they cannot behad without.Thefruit-wall 
+
+
+
+frequently surroundsthekitchen garden, which thus enjoys the ben- 
+efit of an indosure which its own produce could seldom pay for. 
+
+That the vineyard, when properly planted and brought to per- 
+fection, was the most valuable part of the farm, seems to have 
+been an undoubted maxim in the ancient agriculture, as it is in 
+the modern, through all the wine countries. But whether it was 
+advantageous to plant a new vineyard, was a matter of dispute 
+among the ancient Italian husbandmen, as we learn from Col- 
+umella. He decides, like a true lover of all curious cultivation, in 
+favour of the vineyard; and endeavours to shew, by a comparison 
+of the profit and expense, that it was a most advantageous im- 
+provement. Such comparisons, however, between the profit and 
+expenseof new projects arecommonly very fallacious; and in noth- 
+ing more so than in agriculture. H ad the gain actually made by 
+such plantations been commonly as great as heimagined itmight 
+have been, there could have been no dispute about it. The same 
+point isfrequently at thisday a matter of controversy in the wine 
+countries. T heir writerson agriculture, indeed, thelovers and pro- 
+moters of high cultivation, seem generally disposed to decidewith 
+Columellain favour of the vineyard. In France, the anxiety of the 
+proprietors of the old vineyards to prevent the planting of any 
+new ones, seems to favour their opinion, and to indicate a con- 
+sciousness in those who must have the experience, that this spe- 
+
+
+
+132 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+cies of cultivation is at present in that country more profitable 
+than any other. It seems, at the same time, however, to indicate 
+another opinion, that this superior profit can last no longer than 
+thelaws which at present restrain the free cultivation of thevine. 
+I n 1731, they obtained an order of council, prohibiting both the 
+planting of new vineyards, and the renewal of these old ones, of 
+which the cultivation had been interrupted for two years, without 
+a particular permission from the king, to be granted only in con- 
+sequence of an information from the intendant of the province, 
+certifying that he had examined the land, and that it was inca- 
+pable of any other culture. The pretence of this order was the 
+scarcity of corn and pasture, and the superabundance of wine. 
+But had this superabundance been real, it would, without any 
+order of council, have effectually prevented the plantation of new 
+vineyards, by reducing the profits of this species of cultivation 
+below their natural proportion to those of corn and pasture. W ith 
+regard to the supposed scarcity of corn occasioned by the multi- 
+plication of vineyards, corn is nowhere in France more carefully 
+cultivated than in the wine provinces, where the land is fit for 
+producing it: asin Burgundy, Guienne, andtheUpperLanguedoc. 
+The numerous hands employed in the one species of cultivation 
+necessarily encourage theother, by affording a ready market for its 
+produce. To diminish the number of those who are capable of 
+
+
+
+paying it, issurely a most unpromising expedient for encouraging 
+the cultivation of corn. It is like the policy which would promote 
+agriculture, by discouraging manufactures. 
+
+The rent and profit of those productions, therefore, which re- 
+quire either a greater original expenseof improvement in order to 
+fit the land for them, or a greater annual expense of cultivation, 
+though often much superior to thoseof corn and pasture, yet when 
+they do no more than com pen sate such extraordinary expense, are 
+in reality regulated by the rent and profit of those common crops. 
+
+It sometimes happens, indeed, that the quantity of land which 
+can befitted for some particular produce, is too small to supply 
+the effectual demand. T he whole produce can be disposed of to 
+those who are willing to give somewhat more than what is suffi- 
+cient to pay the whole rent, wages, and profit, necessary for rais- 
+ing and bringing it to market, according to their natural rates, or 
+according to the rates at which they are paid in the greater part of 
+other cultivated land. Thesurpluspart of theprice which remains 
+after defraying the whole expense of improvement and cultiva- 
+tion, may commonly, in this case, and in this case only, bear no 
+regular proportion to the like surplus in corn or pasture, but may 
+exceed it in almost any degree; and the greater part of this excess 
+naturally goes to the rent of the landlord. 
+
+The usual and natural proportion, for example, between the 
+
+
+
+133 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+rent and profit of wine, and those of corn and pasture, must be 
+understood to take placeonly with regard to those vineyards which 
+produce nothing but good common wine, such as can be raised 
+almost anywhere, upon any light, gravelly, or sandy soil, and which 
+hasnothing to recommend it but its strength and wholesomeness. 
+It iswith such vineyardsonly, thatthecommon land of thecoun- 
+try can be brought into competition; for with those of a peculiar 
+quality it is evident that it cannot. 
+
+The vine is more affected by the difference of soils than any 
+other fruit-tree. From some it derives a flavour which no culture 
+or management can equal, it is supposed, upon any other. This 
+flavour, real or imaginary, issometimes peculiar to theproduceof 
+afew vineyards; sometimesit extendsthrough thegreater part of a 
+small district, and sometimes through a considerable part of a 
+large province. T he whole quantity of such wines that is brought 
+to market falls short of the effectual demand, or the demand of 
+those who would be willing to pay the whole rent, profit, and 
+wages, necessary for preparing and bringing them thither, accord- 
+ing to theordinary rate, or according to the rate at which they are 
+paid in common vineyards. T he wholequantity, therefore, can be 
+disposed of to those who are willing to pay more, which necessar- 
+ily raises their price above that of common wine. Thedifference is 
+greater or less, according as thefashionableness and scarcity of the 
+
+
+
+wine render the competition of the buyers more or less eager. 
+W hatever it be, the greater part of it goes to the rent of the land- 
+lord. For though such vineyards are in general more carefully cul- 
+tivated than most others, the high price of the wine seems to be, 
+not so much the effect, as the cause of this careful cultivation. In 
+so valuablea produce, theloss occasioned by negligence is so great, 
+as to force even themost careless to attention. A small part of this 
+high price, therefore, is sufficient to pay the wages of the extraor- 
+dinary labour bestowed upon their cultivation, and the profits of 
+the extraordinary stock which puts that labour into motion. 
+
+The sugar colonies possessed by the European nations in the 
+West Indies may be compared to those precious vineyards. Their 
+whole produce falls short of the effectual demand of Europe, and 
+can be disposed of to those who are willing to give more than 
+what is sufficient to pay the whole rent, profit, and wages, neces- 
+sary for preparing and bringing it to market, according to the rate 
+at which they arecommonly paid by any other produce. I n C ochin 
+C hina, the finest white sugar generally sells for three piastres the 
+quintal, about thirteen shillings and sixpenceof our money, as we 
+are told by M r Poivre -{Voyages d'un Philosophe.}, a very careful 
+observer of the agriculture of that country. W hat is there called 
+thequintal, weighsfrom a hundred and fifty to two hundred Paris 
+pounds, or a hundred and seventy-five Paris pounds at a medium, 
+
+
+
+134 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+which reduces the price of the hundred weight English to about 
+eight shillings sterling; not a fourth part of what is commonly 
+paid for the brown or muscovada sugars imported from our colo- 
+nies, and not a sixth part of what is paid for thefinest white sugar. 
+The greater part of the cultivated lands in Cochin China are em- 
+ployed in producing corn and rice, the food of the great body of 
+the people. The respective prices of corn, rice, and sugar, are there 
+probably in the natural proportion, or in that which naturally 
+takes place in the different crops of the greater part of cultivated 
+land, and which recompensesthe landlord and farmer, as nearly as 
+can be computed, according to what is usually the original ex- 
+penseof improvement, and the annual expense of cultivation. But 
+in our sugar colonies, the price of sugar bears no such proportion 
+to that of the produce of a rice or corn field either in Europe or 
+America. It is commonly said that a sugar planter expects that the 
+rum and the molasses should defray the whole expense of his cul- 
+tivation, and that his sugar should be all clear profit. If this be 
+true, fori pretend not to affirm it, itisasif acorn farmer expected 
+to defray the expense of his cultivation with the chaff and the 
+straw, and that the grain should be all clear profit. We see fre- 
+quently societies of merchantsin London, and other trading towns, 
+purchase waste lands in our sugar colonies, which they expect to 
+improve and cultivate with profit, by means of factors and agents, 
+
+
+
+notwithstanding thegreat distance and theuncertain returns, from 
+thedefective administration of justicein those countries. N obody 
+will attempt to improve and cultivate in the same manner the 
+most fertile lands of Scotland, Ireland, or the corn provinces of 
+N orth America, though, from the more exact administration of 
+justicein thesecountries, moreregularreturnsmight be expected. 
+In Virginia and M aryland, the cultivation of tobacco is pre- 
+ferred, as most profitable, to that of corn. Tobacco might be culti- 
+vated with advantage through the greater part of Europe; but, in 
+almost every part of Europe, it has become a principal subject of 
+taxation; and to collect a tax from every different farm in thecoun- 
+try where thisplant might happen to be cultivated, would be more 
+difficult, it has been supposed, than to levy one upon its importa- 
+tion at the custom-house. The cultivation of tobacco has, upon 
+this account, been most absurdly prohibited through the greater 
+part of Europe, which necessarily givesa sort of monopoly to the 
+countries where it is allowed; and as Virginia and M aryland pro- 
+duce the greatest quantity of it, they share largely, though with 
+some competitors, in the advantage of this monopoly. The culti- 
+vation of tobacco, however, seems not to be so advantageous as 
+that of sugar. I have never even heard of any tobacco plantation 
+that was improved and cultivated bythecapital of merchants who 
+resided in Great Britain; and our tobacco colonies send us home 
+
+
+
+135 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+no such wealthy planters as we see frequently arrivefrom oursugar 
+islands. Though, from the preference given in those colonies to 
+the cultivation of tobacco above that of corn, itwould appear that 
+the effectual demand of Europefor tobacco isnot completely sup- 
+plied, it probably is morenearly so than that for sugar; and though 
+the present price of tobacco is probably more than sufficient to 
+pay the whole rent, wages, and profit, necessary for preparing and 
+bringing it to market, according to therate at which they are com- 
+monly paid in corn land, it must not be so much more as the 
+present price of sugar. Our tobacco planters, accordingly, have 
+shewn thesamefear of thesuperabundanceof tobacco, which the 
+proprietors of the old vineyardsin France have of thesuperabun- 
+danceof wine. By act of assembly, they have restrained its cultiva- 
+tion to six thousand plants, supposed to yield a thousand weight 
+of tobacco, for every negro between sixteen and sixty yearsof age. 
+Such a negro, over and above this quantity of tobacco, can man- 
+age, they reckon, four acres of I ndian corn. To prevent the market 
+from being overstocked, too, they have sometimes, in plentiful 
+years, we are told by Dr Douglas {Douglas's Summaryvol. ii. p. 
+379, 373.} (I suspect he has been ill informed), burnt a certain 
+quantity of tobacco for every negro, in the same manner as the 
+D utch are said to do of spices. I f such violent methods are neces- 
+sary to keep up the present price of tobacco, the superior advan- 
+
+
+
+tage of its culture over that of corn, if it still has any, will not 
+probably be of long continuance. 
+
+It isin thismannerthattherentof thecultivated land, of which 
+the produce is human food, regulates the rent of the greater part 
+of other cultivated land. No particular produce can long afford 
+less, because the land would immediately be turned to another 
+use; and if any particular produce commonly affords more, it is 
+because the quantity of land which can befitted for it istoo small 
+to supply the effectual demand. 
+
+In Europe, corn is the principal produce of land, which serves 
+immediately for human food. Except in particular situations, there 
+fore, the rent of corn land regulates in Europe that of all other cul- 
+tivated land. Britain need envy neither the vineyards of France, nor 
+the olive plantations of Italy. Except in particular situations, the 
+value of these is regulated by that of corn, in which the fertility of 
+Britain isnot much inferior to that of either of those two countries. 
+
+If, in any country, the common and favourite vegetable food of 
+the people should be drawn from a plant of which the most com- 
+mon land, with the same, or nearly the same culture, produced a 
+much greater quantity than the most fertile does of corn; the rent 
+of the landlord, or the surplus quantity of food which would re- 
+main to him, after paying the labour, and replacing the stock of 
+thefarmer, together with itsordinary profits, would necessarily be 
+
+
+
+136 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+much greater. W hatever was the rate at which labour was com- 
+monly maintained in that country, this greater surplus could al- 
+ways maintain a greater quantity of it, and, consequently, enable 
+the landlord to purchase or command a greater quantity of it. T he 
+real value of his rent, his real power and authority, his command 
+of the necessaries and conveniences of life with which the labour 
+of other people could supply him, would necessarily be much 
+greater. 
+
+A rice field produces a much greater quantity of food than the 
+most fertile corn field. Two crops in the year, from thirty to sixty 
+bushelseach, are said to betheordinary produceof an acre Though 
+its cultivation, therefore, requires more labour, a much greater sur- 
+plus remains after maintaining all that labour. In those rice coun- 
+tries, therefore, where rice is the common and favourite vegetable 
+food of thepeople, and where the cultivators are chiefly maintained 
+with it, a greater share of this greater surplus should belong to the 
+landlord than in corn countries. In Carolina, where the planters, as 
+in other British colonies, are generally both farmers and landlords, 
+and where rent, consequently, is confounded with profit, the culti- 
+vation of riceisfound to bemoreprofitablethan that of corn, though 
+their fields produceonly onecrop in theyear, and though, from the 
+prevalence of the customs of Europe, rice is not there the common 
+and favourite vegetable food of thepeople. 
+
+
+
+A good rice field isa bog at all seasons, and at oneseason a bog 
+covered with water. It is unfit either for corn, or pasture, or vine- 
+yard, or, indeed, for any other vegetable produce that is very use- 
+ful to men; and the lands which are fit for those purposes are not 
+fit for rice. Even in the rice countries, therefore, the rent of rice 
+lands cannot regulate the rent of the other cultivated land which 
+can never be turned to that produce. 
+
+Thefood produced by afield of potatoesisnot inferior in quan- 
+tity to that produced by afield of rice, and much superior to what 
+is produced by a field of wheat. Twelve thousand weight of pota- 
+toes from an acre of land is not a greater produce than two thou- 
+sand weight of wheat. Thefood or solid nourishment, indeed, 
+which can be drawn from each of those two plants, is not alto- 
+gether in proportion to their weight, on account of the watery 
+nature of potatoes. Allowing, however, half the weight of this root 
+to go to water, a very large allowance, such an acreof potatoes will 
+still produce sixthousand weight of solid nourishment, three times 
+thequantity produced by theacreof wheat. An acreof potatoesis 
+cultivated with less expense than an acreof wheat; the fallow, which 
+generally precedes the sowing of wheat, more than compensating 
+the hoeing and other extraordinary culture which is always given 
+to potatoes. Should this root ever become in any part of Europe, 
+like rice in some rice countries, the common and favourite veg- 
+
+
+
+137 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+etablefood of the people, so as to occupy the same proportion of 
+the lands in tillage, which wheat and other sorts of grain for hu- 
+man food do at present, thesamequantity of cultivated land would 
+maintain a much greater number of people; and the labourers 
+being generally fed with potatoes, a greater surplus would remain 
+after replacing all the stock, and maintaining all the labour em- 
+ployed in cultivation. A greater share of this surplus, too, would 
+belongto thelandlord. Population would increase, and rentswould 
+rise much beyond what they are at present. 
+
+The land which is fit for potatoes, is fit for almost every other 
+useful vegetable. If they occupied the same proportion of culti- 
+vated land which corn does at present, they would regulate, in the 
+same manner, the rent of thegreater part of other cultivated land. 
+
+In some parts of Lancashire, it is pretended, I have been told, 
+that bread of oatmeal is a heartier food for labouring people than 
+wheaten bread, and I have frequently heard the same doctrine 
+held in Scotland. I am, however, somewhat doubtful of thetruth 
+of it. The common people in Scotland, who are fed with oatmeal, 
+are in general neither so strong nor so handsome as the same rank 
+of peoplein England, who are fed with wheaten bread. They nei- 
+ther work so well, nor look so well; and as there is not the same 
+difference between the people of fashion in the two countries, 
+experience would seem to shew, that the food of the common 
+
+
+
+peoplein Scotland is not so suitableto the human constitution as 
+thatoftheirneighboursofthesamerankin England. But it seems 
+to be otherwise with potatoes. The chairmen, porters, and coal- 
+heavers in London, and those unfortunate women who live by 
+prostitution, the strongest men and the most beautiful women 
+perhaps in the British dominions, are said to be, thegreater part 
+of them, from thelowest rank of peoplein Ireland, who are gener- 
+ally fed with thisroot. No food can afford a more decisive proof of 
+its nourishing quality, or of its being peculiarly suitable to the 
+health of the human constitution. 
+
+It is difficult to preserve potatoes through the year, and impos- 
+sibleto store them likecorn, for two or three years together. The 
+fear of not being able to sell them before they rot, discourages 
+their cultivation, and is, perhaps, the chief obstacle to their ever 
+becoming in any great country, like bread, the principal vegetable 
+food of all the different ranks of the people. 
+
+PART II. — Of the Produce of Land, which sometimes does, 
+and sometimes does not, afford Rent. 
+
+H uman food seems to be the only produce of land, which al- 
+ways and necessarily affordssomerentto thelandlord. Other sorts 
+of produce sometimes may, and sometimes may not, accordingto 
+different circumstances. 
+
+
+
+138 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+After food, clothing and lodging arethetwo great wants of man- 
+kind. 
+
+Land, in its original rudestate, can afford the materials of cloth- 
+ing and lodging to a much greater number of people than it can 
+feed. In itsimproved state, itcan sometimes feed a greater number 
+of people than itcan supply with those materials; at least in the 
+way in which they require them, and are willing to pay for them. 
+I n the one state, therefore, there is always a superabundance of 
+these materials, which are frequently, upon that account, of little 
+or no value. In the other, there is often a scarcity, which necessar- 
+ily augments their value. In the one state, a great part of them is 
+thrown away as useless and the price of what is used is considered 
+as equal only to the labour and expense of fitting it for use, and 
+can, therefore, afford no rent to the landlord. In the other, they 
+are all made use of, and there is frequently a demand for more 
+than can be had. Somebody is always willing to give more for 
+every part of them, than what is sufficient to pay the expense of 
+bringing them to market. Their price, therefore, can always afford 
+some rent to the landlord. 
+
+The skins of the larger animals were the original materials of 
+clothing. Among nations of hunters and shepherds, therefore, 
+whosefood consists chiefly in theflesh of those animals, everyman, 
+by providing himself with food, provideshimself with themateri- 
+
+
+
+als of more clothing than he can wear. If there was no foreign 
+commerce, the greater part of them would be thrown away as 
+things of no value. This was probably thecase among the hunting 
+nationsof North America, before theircountrywasdiscovered by 
+the Europeans, with whom they now exchange their surplus peltry, 
+for blankets, fire-arms, and brandy, which gives it some value. In 
+thepresent commercial stateof the known world, themostbarba- 
+rousnations, I believe, among whom land property isestablished, 
+have some foreign commerce of this kind, and find among their 
+wealthier neighbours such adem and for all thematerialsof cloth- 
+ing, which their land produces, and which can neither bewrought 
+up nor consumed at home, as raises their price above what it costs 
+to send them to those wealthier neighbours. It affords, therefore, 
+some rent to the landlord. W hen the greater part of the H ighland 
+cattle were consumed on their own hills, the exportation of their 
+hides made the most considerable article of the commerce of that 
+country, and what they were exchanged for afforded some addi- 
+tion to the rent of the H ighland estates. The wool of England, 
+which in old times, could neither be consumed nor wrought up at 
+home, found a market in thethen wealthier and more industrious 
+country of Flanders, and its price afforded something to the rent 
+of the land which produced it. In countries not better cultivated 
+than England was then, or than the H ighlands of Scotland are 
+
+
+
+139 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+now, and which had no foreign commerce, the materials of cloth- 
+ing would evidently beso superabundant, that a great part of them 
+would be thrown away as useless, and no part could afford any 
+rent to the landlord. 
+
+The materials of lodging cannot always be transported to so 
+great a distance as those of clothing, and do not so readily become 
+an object of foreign commerce. When they are superabundant in 
+the country which produces them, it frequently happens, even in 
+the present commercial state of the world, that they are of no 
+value to the landlord. A good stone quarry in the neighbourhood 
+of London would afford a considerable rent. In many parts of 
+Scotland and Wales it affords none. Barren timber for building is 
+of great value in a populous and well-cultivated country, and the 
+land which produces it affords a considerable rent. But in many 
+parts of North America, the landlord would be much obliged to 
+any body who would carry away the greater part of his large trees. 
+I n some parts of the H ighlands of Scotland, the bark is the only 
+part of the wood which, for want of roads and water-carriage, can 
+be sent to market; thetimber is left to rot upon theground. W hen 
+the materials of lodging are so superabundant, the part made use 
+of is worth only the labour and expense of fitting it for that use. 1 1 
+affords no rent to the landlord, who generally grants the use of it 
+to whoever takes thetroubleof asking it. T hedemand of wealthier 
+
+
+
+nations, however, sometimes enables him to get a rent for it. The 
+paving of the streets of London has enabled the owners of some 
+barren rocks on the coast of Scotland to draw a rent from what 
+never afforded any before. The woods of Norway, and of thecoasts 
+of the Baltic, find a market in many parts of Great Britain, which 
+they could not find at home, and thereby afford some rent to their 
+proprietors. 
+
+Countries are populous, not in proportion to the number of 
+people whom their produce can clothe and lodge, but in propor- 
+tion to that of those whom it can feed. W hen food is provided, it 
+is easy to find the necessary clothing and lodging. But though 
+these are at hand, it may often be difficult to find food. In some 
+parts of theBritish dominions, what iscalled a house may be built 
+by oneday's labour of one man. T he simplest species of clothing, 
+the skins of animals, require somewhat more labour to dress and 
+prepare them for use. They do not, however, require a great deal. 
+Among savage or barbarous nations, a hundredth, or little more 
+than a hundredth part of the labour of the whole year, will be 
+sufficient to provide them with such clothing and lodging as sat- 
+isfy the greater part of the people. All the other ninety-nine parts 
+are frequently no more than enough to provide them with food. 
+
+But when, by the improvement and cultivation of land, the 
+labour of one family can provide food for two, the labour of half 
+
+
+
+140 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+the society becomes sufficient to providefood for the whole. T he 
+other half, therefore, or at least the greater part of them, can be 
+employed in providing other things, or in satisfying theother wants 
+and fancies of mankind. Clothing and lodging, household furni- 
+ture, and what is called equipage, are the principal objects of the 
+greater part of those wants and fancies. The rich man consumes 
+no more food than his poor neighbour. In quality it may be very 
+different, and to select and prepare it may require more labour 
+and art; but in quantity it is very nearly the same. But compare 
+the spacious palace and great wardrobe of the one, with the hovel 
+and the few rags of the other, and you will be sensible that the 
+difference between their clothing, lodging, and household furni- 
+ture, isalmost asgreat in quantity as it is in quality. Thedesireof 
+food islimited in every man bythenarrow capacity of the human 
+stomach; but the desire of the conveniences and ornaments of 
+building, dress, equipage, and household furniture, seemsto have 
+no limit or certain boundary. Those, therefore, who havethecom- 
+mand of morefood than they them selves can consume, are always 
+willing to exchange the surplus, or, what is the same thing, the 
+price of it, for gratifications of this other kind. W hat is over and 
+above satisfying the limited desire, is given for the amusement of 
+those desires which cannot be satisfied, but seem to be altogether 
+endless. The poor, in order to obtain food, exert themselves to 
+
+
+
+gratify those fancies of the rich; and to obtain it more certainly, 
+theyviewith oneanotherin the cheapness and perfection of their 
+work. Thenumber of workmen increases with theincreasing quan- 
+tity of food, or with the growing improvement and cultivation of 
+thelands; and as thenatureof their business admits of the utmost 
+subdivisions of labour, the quantity of materials which they can 
+workup, increases in a much greater proportion than their num- 
+bers. H ence arises a demand for every sort of material which hu- 
+man invention can employ, either usefully or ornamentally, in 
+building, dress, equipage, or household furniture; for the fossils 
+and minerals contained in the bowels of the earth, the precious 
+metals, and the precious stones. 
+
+Food is, in this manner, not only theoriginal sourceof rent, but 
+every other part of the produce of land which afterwards affords 
+rent, derives that part of its value from the improvement of the 
+powers of labour in producing food, by means of the improve- 
+ment and cultivation of land. 
+
+Those other parts of the produce of land, however, which after- 
+wards afford rent, do not afford it always. Even in improved and 
+cultivated countries, thedemand for them isnot always such as to 
+afford a greater price than what issufficient to pay the labour, and 
+replace, together with its ordinary profits, the stock which must 
+be employed in bringing them to market. Whether it is or isnot 
+
+
+
+141 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+such, depends upon different circumstances. 
+
+Whether a coal mine, for example, can afford any rent, depends 
+partly upon its fertility, and partly upon its situation. 
+
+A mine of any kind may be said to be either fertile or barren, 
+according as the quantity of mineral which can be brought from it 
+by a certain quantity of labour, is greater or less than what can be 
+brought by an equal quantity from the greater part of other mines 
+of the same kind. 
+
+Some coal mines, advantageously situated, cannot be wrought 
+on account of their barrenness. The produce does not pay the 
+expense. T hey can afford neither profit nor rent. 
+
+There are some, of which the produce is barely sufficient to pay 
+thelabour, and replace, together with itsordinary profits, thestock 
+employed in workingthem. They afford someprofitto theunder- 
+takerofthework, butnorenttothelandlord. They can be wrought 
+advantageously by nobody but the landlord, who, being himself 
+the undertaker of the work, gets the ordi nary profit of the capital 
+which heemploysin it. M any coal minesin Scotland are wrought 
+in this manner, andean bewroughtin no other. The landlord will 
+allow nobody else to work them without paying some rent, and 
+nobody can afford to pay any. 
+
+Other coal minesin the same country, sufficiently fertile, can- 
+not be wrought on account of their situation. A quantity of min- 
+
+
+
+eral, sufficient to defray theexpenseof working, could bebrought 
+from the mine by the ordinary, or even less than the ordinary 
+quantity of labour: but in an inland country, thinly inhabited, 
+and without either good roadsor water-carriage, thisquantity could 
+not be sold. 
+
+Coals are a less agreeable fuel than wood: they are said too to be 
+less wholesome. Theexpenseof coals, therefore, at theplacewhere 
+they are consumed, must generally be somewhat less than that of 
+wood. 
+
+The price of wood, again, varies with the state of agriculture, 
+nearly in the same manner, and exactly for the same reason, as the 
+price of cattle. In its rude beginnings, the greater part of every 
+country is covered with wood, which isthen amereincumbrance, 
+of no value to the landlord, who would gladly give it to any body 
+for thecutting. Asagri culture advances, thewoods are partly cleared 
+by the progress of tillage, and partlygo to decayin consequence of 
+the increased number of cattle. These, though they do not in- 
+crease in the same proportion as corn, which is altogether the ac- 
+quisition of human industry, yet multiply under thecareand pro- 
+tection of men, who store up in the season of plenty what may 
+maintain them in that of scarcity; who, through the whole year, 
+furnish them with a greater quantity of food than uncultivated 
+natureprovides for them; and who, by destroying and extirpating 
+
+
+
+142 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+their enemies, secure them in the free enjoyment of all that she 
+provides. Numerous herds of cattle, when allowed to wander 
+through thewoods, though they do not destroy theold trees, hinder 
+any young ones from coming up; so that, in the course of a cen- 
+tury or two, the whole forest goes to ruin. The scarcity of wood 
+then raises its price. It affords a good rent; and thelandlord some- 
+times findsthathecan scarce employ his best lands more advanta- 
+geously than in growing barren timber, of which the greatness of 
+theprofit often compen sates thelatenessofthereturnsThisseems, 
+in the present times, to benearly thestate of thingsin several parts 
+of Great Britain, where the profit of planting is found to be equal 
+to that of either corn or pasture. The advantage which the land- 
+lord derives from planting can nowhere exceed, at least for any 
+considerable time, the rent which these could afford him; and in 
+an inland country, which is highly cultivated, it will frequently 
+not fall much short of this rent. Upon the sea-coast of a well- 
+improved country, indeed, if coals can conveniently be had for 
+fuel, it may sometimes be cheaper to bring barren timber for build- 
+ing from less cultivated foreign countries than to raise it at home. 
+Inthenewtown of Edinburgh, built within these few years, there 
+is not, perhaps, a singlestick of Scotch timber. 
+
+W hatever may be the price of wood, if that of coals is such that 
+the expense of a coal fire is nearly equal to that of a wood one we 
+
+
+
+may be assured, that at that place, and in these circumstances, the 
+priceof coalsisashigh asit can be. Itseemsto be so in someof the 
+inland parts of England, particularly in Oxfordshire, where it is 
+usual, even in the fires of the common people, to mix coals and 
+wood together, and where the difference in the expense of those 
+two sorts of fuel cannot, therefore, be very great. Coals, in thecoal 
+countries, are everywhere much below this highest price. If they 
+were not, they could not bear the expense of a distant carriage, 
+either by land or by water. A small quantity only could be sold; 
+and thecoal mastersand thecoal proprietorsfind it more for their 
+interest to sell a great quantity at a price somewhat above the low- 
+est, than a small quantity at the highest. The most fertile coal 
+mine, too, regulates the price of coal sat all the other mines in its 
+neighbourhood. Both the proprietor and the undertaker of the 
+work find, the one that he can get a greater rent, the other that he 
+can get a greater profit, by somewhat underselling all their 
+neighbours. Their neighbours are soon obliged to sell atthesame 
+price, though they cannot so well afford it, and though it always 
+diminishes, and sometimes takes away altogether, both their rent 
+and their profit. Some works are abandoned altogether; others 
+can afford no rent, and can be wrought only by the proprietor. 
+
+The lowest price at which coalscan be sold for any considerable 
+time, is, likethatof all other commodities, theprice which isbardy 
+
+
+
+143 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+sufficient to replace, together with its ordinary profits, the stock 
+which must be employed in bringing them to market. At a coal 
+mine for which the landlord can get no rent, but, which he must 
+either work himself or let it alone altogether, the price of coals 
+must generally be nearly about this price. 
+
+Rent, even where coals afford one, has generally a smaller share 
+in their price than in that of most other parts of the rude produce 
+of land. T he rent of an estate above ground, commonly amounts 
+to what is supposed to be a third of the gross produce; and it is 
+generally a rent certain and independent of the occasional varia- 
+tions in the crop. In coal mines, a fifth of the gross produce is a 
+very great rent, a tenth the common rent; and it is seldom a rent 
+certain, but depends upon the occasional variations in the pro- 
+duce. These are so great, that in a country where thirty years pur- 
+chase isconsideredasa moderate pricefor the property of a landed 
+estate, ten years purchase is regarded as a good pricefor that of a 
+coal mine. 
+
+T he value of a coal mine to the proprietor, frequently depends 
+as much upon its situation as upon its fertility. That of a metallic 
+mine depends more upon its fertility, and less upon its situation. 
+The coarse, and still more the precious metals, when separated 
+from the ore, are so valuable, that they can generally bear the ex- 
+pense of a very long land, and of the most distant sea carriage. 
+
+
+
+Their market isnot confined to thecountriesin theneighbourhood 
+of the mine, but extends to the whole world. The copper of Japan 
+makes an article of commerce in Europe; theiron of Spain in that 
+of Chili and Peru. The silver of Peru finds its way, not only to 
+Europe, but from Europe to China. 
+
+Theprice of coalsin Westmoreland or Shropshire can havelittle 
+effect on their price at Newcastle; and their price in the Lionnois 
+can have none at all. The productions of such distant coal mines 
+can never be brought into competition with one another. But the 
+productions of the most distant metallic mines frequently may, 
+and in fact commonly are. 
+
+The price, therefore, of the coarse, and still more that of the 
+precious metals, at the most fertile mines in theworld, must nec- 
+essarily more or less affect their price at every other in it. The price 
+of copper in Japan must have some influence upon itspriceatthe 
+copper minesin Europe. The price of silver in Peru, orthequan- 
+tity either of labour or of other goods which it will purchase there, 
+must have some influence on itsprice, not only at thesilver mines 
+of Europe, but at those of C hina. After the discovery of the mines 
+of Peru, thesilver mines of Europe were, thegreater part of them, 
+abandoned. The value of silver was so much reduced, that their 
+produce could no longer pay the expense of working them, or 
+replace, with a profit, thefood, clothes, lodging, and other neces- 
+
+
+
+144 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+saries which were consumed in that operation. This was the case, 
+too, with theminesof Cuba and St. Domingo, and even with the 
+ancient mines of Peru, after the discovery of those of Potosi . 
+
+T he price of every metal, at every mine, therefore, being regu- 
+lated in some measure by its price at the most fertile mine in the 
+world that isactually wrought, it can, at thegreater part of mines, 
+do very little more than pay the expense of working, and can sel- 
+dom afford a very high rent to the landlord. Rent accordingly, 
+seemsat thegreater part of mines to have but a small share in the 
+price of the coarse, and a still smaller in that of the precious met- 
+als. Labour and profit makeup thegreater part of both. 
+
+A sixth part of the gross produce may be reckoned the average 
+rent of thetin mines of Cornwall, the most fertilethat are known 
+in the world, as we are told by the Rev. M r. Borlace, vice-warden 
+of the stannaries. Some, he says, afford more, and some do not 
+afford so much. A sixth part of the gross produce is the rent, too, 
+of several very fertile lead mines in Scotland. 
+
+I n thesilver minesof Peru, wearetold by Frezier and U lloa, the 
+proprietor frequently exacts no other acknowledgment from the 
+undertaker of the mine, but that he will grind the ore at his mill, 
+paying him the ordinary multure or price of grinding. Till 1736, 
+indeed, thetaxof the king of Spain amounted toonefifth of the 
+standard silver, which till then might be considered asthereal rent 
+
+
+
+of the greater part of the silver mines of Peru, the richest which 
+have been known in theworld. If therehad been no tax, this fifth 
+would naturally have belonged to the landlord, and many mines 
+might have been wrought which could not then be wrought, be- 
+cause they could not afford thistax. T hetax of thedukeof C orn wall 
+upon tin is supposed to amount to more than five per cent, or one 
+twentieth part of the value; and whatever may be his proportion, 
+it would naturally, too, belong to theproprietor of themine, if tin 
+wasdutyfree. But if you add onetwentieth to one sixth, you will 
+find that the whole average rent of thetin minesof Cornwall, was 
+to thewholeaverage rent of thesilver minesof Peru, as thirteen to 
+twelve. But thesilver minesof Peru are not now able to pay even 
+this low rent; and thetax upon silver was, in 1736, reduced from 
+one fifth to one tenth. Even thistax upon silver, too, gives more 
+temptation to smuggling than thetaxof onetwentieth upon tin; 
+and smuggling must be much easier in the precious than in the 
+bulky commodity. Thetax of the king of Spain, accordingly, is 
+said to be very ill paid, and that of thedukeof Cornwall very well. 
+Rent, therefore, it is probable, makes a greater part of the price of 
+tin at the most fertile tin mines than it does of silver at the most 
+fertile silver mines in the world. After replacing the stock em- 
+ployed in working those different mines, together with its ordi- 
+nary profits, theresiduewhich remainsto theproprietor isgreater, 
+
+
+
+145 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+it seems, in the coarse, than in the precious metal. 
+
+N either are the profits of the undertakers of silver mines com- 
+monly very great in Peru. The same most respectable and well- 
+informed authors acquaint us, that when any person undertakes 
+to work a new mine in Peru, he is universally looked upon as a 
+man destined to bankruptcy and ruin, and is upon that account 
+shunned and avoided by every body. M ining, it seems, is consid- 
+ered therein thesame light ashere, asa lottery, in which the prizes 
+do not compensate the blanks, though thegreatnessof sometempts 
+many adventurers to throw away their fortunes in such unpros- 
+perous projects. 
+
+As the sovereign, however, derivesaconsiderablepartof hisrev- 
+enuefromtheproduceof silvermines, thelawin Peru gives every 
+possibleencouragement to thediscovery and working of new ones. 
+Whoever discovers a new mine, is entitled to measure off two 
+hundred and forty-six feet in length, according to what he sup- 
+poses to be the direction ofthevein,and half asmuch in breadth. 
+He becomes proprietor of this portion of the mine, andean work 
+it without paving any acknowledgment to the landlord. T he in- 
+terest of the duke of C ornwall has given occasion to a regulation 
+nearly of the same kind in that ancient dutchy. In waste and unin- 
+closed lands, any person who discovers a tin mine may mark out 
+itslimitsto acertain extent, which iscalled bounding amineThe 
+
+
+
+bounder becomes the real proprietor of the mine, and may either 
+work it himself, or giveit in lease to another, without theconsent 
+of theowner of theland, to whom, however, avery small acknowl- 
+edgment must be paid upon working it. I n both regulations, the 
+sacred rights of private property are sacrificed to the supposed 
+interests of public revenue. 
+
+The same encouragement is given in Peru to the discovery and 
+working of new gold mines; and in gold the king's tax amounts 
+only to a twentieth part of the standard rental. Itwasonceafifth, 
+and afterwards a tenth, as in silver; but it was found that the work 
+could not bear even the lowest of these two taxes. If it is rare, 
+however, say the same authors, Frezier and U lloa, to find a person 
+who has made his fortune by a silver, it is still much rarer to find 
+onewhohasdonesobyagold mine. Thistwentieth part seemsto 
+be the whole rent which is paid by the greater part of the gold 
+mines of Chili and Peru. Gold, too, is much more liable to be 
+smuggled than even silver; not only on account of the superior 
+value of the metal in proportion to its bulk, but on accountof the 
+peculiar way in which nature produces it. Silver is very seldom 
+found virgin, but, like most other metals, is generally mineralized 
+with someother body, from which it isimpossibleto separateit in 
+such quantities as will pay for the expense, but by a very laborious 
+and tedious operation, which cannot well be carried on but in 
+
+
+
+146 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+work-houses erected for the purpose, and, therefore, exposed to 
+the inspection of the king's officers. Gold, on the contrary, is al- 
+most always found virgin. Itissometimesfoundin pieces of some 
+bulk; and, even when mixed, in small and almost insensible par- 
+ticles, with sand, earth, and other extraneous bodies, it can be 
+separated from them by a very short and simple operation, which 
+can be carried on in any private house by any body who is pos- 
+sessed of a smal I quantity of mercury. I f the king's tax, therefore, is 
+but ill paid upon silver, it is likely to be much worse paid upon 
+gold; and rent must make a much smaller part of the price of gold 
+than that of silver. 
+
+The lowest price at which the precious metals can be sold, or 
+the smallest quantity of other goods for which they can be ex- 
+changed, during any considerable time, is regulated by the same 
+principles which fix the lowest ordinary price of all other goods. 
+T hestock which must commonly be employed, thefood, clothes, 
+and lodging, which must commonly be consumed in bringing 
+them from the mine to the market, determine it. It must at least 
+be sufficient to replace that stock, with the ordinary profits. 
+
+Their highest price, however, seems not to be necessarily deter- 
+mined by any thing but the actual scarcity or plenty of these met- 
+als them selves. Itisnot determined bythat of any other commod- 
+ity, in the same manner as the price of coals is by that of wood, 
+
+
+
+beyond which no scarcity can ever raiseit. Increase the scarcity of 
+gold to a certain degree, and the smallest bit of it may become 
+more precious than a diamond, and exchange for a greater quan- 
+tity of other goods. 
+
+T hedemand for those metalsarises partly from their utility, and 
+partly from their beauty. If you except iron, they are more useful 
+than, perhaps, any other metal. As they are less liable to rust and 
+impurity, they can more easily be kept clean; and the utensils, 
+either of the table or the kitchen, are often, upon that account, 
+more agreeable when madeofthem. A silver boiler ismore cleanly 
+than a lead, copper, or tin one; and thesamequality would render 
+a gold boiler still better than a silver one. Their principal merit, 
+however, arises from their beauty, which renders them peculiarly 
+fit for the ornaments of dress and furniture. No paint or dye can 
+give so splendid a colour as gilding. The merit of their beauty is 
+greatly enhanced by their scarcity. With the greater part of rich 
+people, the chief enjoyment of riches consists in the parade of 
+riches; which, in their eye, is never so complete as when they ap- 
+pear to possess those decisive marks of opulence which nobody 
+can possess but themselves. I n their eyes, the merit of an object, 
+which is in any degree either useful or beautiful, is greatly en- 
+hanced by its scarcity, or by the great labour which it requires to 
+collect any considerablequantity of it; a labour which nobody can 
+
+
+
+147 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+afford to pay but themselves. Such objects they are willing to pur- 
+chase at a higher price than things much more beautiful and use- 
+ful, but morecommon.Thesequalitiesof utility beauty and scar- 
+city are the original foundation of the high price of those metals, 
+or of the great quantity of other goods for which they can every- 
+where be exchanged. T his value was antecedent to, and indepen- 
+dent of their being employed as coin, and was the quality which 
+fitted them for that employment. T hat employment, however, by 
+occasioning a new demand, and by diminishingthequantity which 
+could be employed in any other way, may have afterwards con- 
+tributed to keep up or in crease their value. 
+
+Thedemand for theprecious stones arises altogether from their 
+beauty. They are of no use but as ornaments; and the merit of 
+their beauty is greatly enhanced by their scarcity, or by the diffi- 
+culty and expenseof getting them from the mine. Wages and profit 
+accordingly makeup, upon most occasions, almost the whole of 
+thehigh price. Rentcomesin but for a very small share, frequently 
+for no share; and the most fertile mines only afford any consider- 
+able rent. When Tavern ier, a jeweller, visited the diamond mines 
+ofGolcondaandVisiapour, hewasinformed that the sovereign of 
+thecountry for whose benefit they were wrought, had ordered all 
+of them to be shut up except those which yielded the largest and 
+finest stones. T heother, it seems, were to theproprietor not worth 
+
+
+
+the working. 
+
+As the prices, both of the precious metals and of the precious 
+stones, is regulated all over the world by their price at the most 
+fertile mine in it, the rent which a mine of either can afford to its 
+proprietor is in proportion, not to its absolute, but to what may 
+be called its relative fertility, or to its superiority over other mines 
+ofthesamekind. If new mines were discovered, as much superior 
+to those of Potosi, as they were superior to those of Europe, the 
+value of silver might be so much degraded as to render even the 
+mines of Potosi not worth the working. Before the discovery of 
+the Spanish West Indies, the most fertile mines in Europe may 
+have afforded as great a rent to their proprietors as the richest 
+mines in Peru do at present. Though the quantity of silver was 
+much less, itmighthaveexchangedforan equal quantity of other 
+goods, and the proprietor's share might have enabled him to pur- 
+chase or command an equal quantity either of labour or of com- 
+modities. 
+
+The value, both of theproduceand of the rent, the real revenue 
+which they afforded, both to the public and to the proprietor, 
+might have been the same. 
+
+T he most abundant mines, either of the precious metals, or of 
+the precious stones, could add little to the wealth of the world. A 
+produce, of which the value is principally derived from its scar- 
+
+
+
+148 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+city, is necessarily degraded by its abundance. A service of plate, 
+and theother frivolous ornamentsof dress and furniture, could be 
+purchased for a smaller quantity of commodities; and in thiswould 
+consist thesolead vantage which theworld could derive from that 
+abundance. 
+
+It isotherwisein estates above ground. Thevalue, both of their 
+produce and of their rent, is in proportion to their absolute, and 
+not to their relative fertility. The land which produces a certain 
+quantity of food, clothes, and lodging, can always feed, clothe, 
+and lodge, a certain number of people; and whatever may be the 
+proportion of the landlord, it will always give him a proportion- 
+able command of the labour of those people, and of the com- 
+modities with which thatlabourcan supply him. Thevalueof the 
+most barren land is not diminished by the neighbourhood of the 
+most fertile. n the contrary, it is generally increased by it. The 
+great number of people maintained by the fertile lands afford a 
+market to many parts of the produce of the barren, which they 
+could never have found among those whom their own produce 
+could maintain. 
+
+Whatever in creases the fertility of land in producing food, in- 
+creases not only thevalue of the lands upon which the improve- 
+ment isbestowed, but contributeslikewise to increase that of many 
+other lands, by creating a new demand for their produce. That 
+
+
+
+abundanceof food, of which, in consequence of the improvement 
+of land, many people have the disposal beyond what they them- 
+selves can consume, isthegreatcauseof thedemand, both for the 
+precious metals and the precious stones, as well as for every other 
+conveniency and ornament of dress, lodging, household furni- 
+ture, and equipage. Food not only constitutes the principal part 
+of the riches of the world, but it is the abundance of food which 
+givestheprincipal part of theirvalueto many other sortsof riches. 
+T he poor inhabitants of C uba and St. D omingo, when they were 
+first discovered by the Spaniards, used to wear little bits of gold as 
+ornaments i n thei r hai r and other parts of thei r dress. T hey seemed 
+tovaluethem as we would do any littlepebblesof somewhat more 
+than ordinary beauty, and to consider them asjust worth thepick- 
+ing up, but not worth the refusing to any body who asked them, 
+They gave them to their new guests at the first request, without 
+seeming to think that they had made them any very valuable 
+present.They were astonished to observe therage of theSpaniards 
+to obtain them; and had no notion that there could anywhere be 
+a country in which many people had the disposal of so great a 
+superfluity of food; so scanty always among themselves, that, for a 
+very small quantity of those glittering baubles, they would will- 
+ingly give as much as might maintain a whole family for many 
+years. Could they have been madeto understand this, the passion 
+
+
+
+149 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+of the Spaniards would not have surprised them. 
+
+PART III. — Of the variations in the Proportion between the 
+respectiveValuesof that sort of Produce which always affordsRent, 
+and of that which sometimes does, and sometimes does not, af- 
+ford Rent. 
+
+The increasing abundance of food, in consequence of the in- 
+creasing improvement and cultivation, must necessarily increase 
+the demand for every part of the produce of land which is not 
+food, and which can be applied either to use or to ornament. I n 
+the whole progress of improvement, it might, therefore, be ex- 
+pected there should beonlyonevariation in the comparative val- 
+ues of those two different sorts of produce. The value of that sort 
+which sometimes does, and sometimesdoesnot afford rent, should 
+constantly rise in proportion to that which always affords some 
+rent. As art and industry advance, the materials of clothing and 
+lodging, the useful fossils and materials of the earth, the precious 
+metals and the precious stones, should gradually come to be more 
+and more in demand, should gradually exchange for a greater and 
+a greater quantity of food; or, in other words, should gradually 
+become dearer and dearer. This, accordingly, has been the case 
+with most of these things upon most occasions, and would have 
+been the case with all of them upon all occasions, if particular 
+
+
+
+accidents had not, upon some occasions, increased the supply of 
+some of them in a still greater proportion than the demand. 
+
+The value of a free-stone quarry, for example, will necessarily 
+increase with the increasing improvement and population of the 
+country round about it, especially if it should be the only one in 
+the neighbourhood. But the value of a silver mine, even though 
+thereshould not be another within athousand milesof it, will not 
+necessarily increase with the improvement of thecountry in which 
+it is situated. T he market for the produce of a free-stone quarry 
+can seldom extend more than a few miles round about it, and the 
+demand must generally be in proportion to the improvement and 
+population of that small district; but the market for the produce 
+of a silver mine may extend over the whole known world. Unless 
+the world in general, therefore, be advancing in improvement and 
+population, thedemand for silver might not beat all increased by 
+the improvement even of a largecountry in the neighbourhood of 
+the mine. Even though the world in general were improving, yet 
+if, in thecourseof its improvements, new mines should bediscov- 
+ered, much more fertile than any which had been known before, 
+though the demand for silver would necessarily increase, yet the 
+supply might increase in so much a greater proportion, that the 
+real price of that metal might gradually fall; that is, any given 
+quantity, a pound weight of it, for example, might gradually pur- 
+
+
+
+150 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+chase or command a smaller and a smaller quantity of labour, or 
+exchange for a smaller and a smaller quantity of corn, the princi- 
+pal part of the subsistence of the labourer. 
+
+Thegreat market for silver is the commercial and civilized part 
+of the world. 
+
+If, by the general progress of improvement, thedemand of this 
+market should increase, while, at the same time, the supply did 
+not increase in the same proportion, the value of silver would 
+gradually rise in proportion to that of corn. Any given quantity of 
+silver would exchange for a greater and a greater quantity of corn; 
+or, in other words, the average money price of corn would gradu- 
+ally become cheaper and cheaper. 
+
+If, on the contrary, the supply, by some accident, should in- 
+crease, for many years together, in a greater proportion than the 
+demand, that metal would gradually becomecheaper and cheaper; 
+or, in other words, the average money price of corn would, in 
+spite of all improvements, gradually become dearer and dearer. 
+
+But if, on the other hand, the supply of that metal should in- 
+creasenearly in thesame proportion as thedemand, it would con- 
+tinuetopurchaseor exchange for nearly thesamequantity of corn; 
+and the average money price of corn would, in spite of all im- 
+provements, continuevery nearly thesame. 
+
+These three seem to exhaust all the possible combinations of 
+
+
+
+events which can happen in the progress of improvement; and 
+during the course of the four centuries preceding the present, if 
+we may judge by what has happened both in France and Great 
+Britain, each of those three different combinations seemsto have 
+taken place in the European market, and nearly in the same order, 
+too, in which I have here set them down. 
+
+Digression concerningtheVariationsin thevalueof Silver dur- 
+ing the C ourse of the Four last C enturies. 
+
+First Period. — In 1350, and for some time before, the average 
+price of the quarter of wheat in England seems not to have been 
+estimated lower than fourouncesof silver, Tower weight, equal to 
+about twenty shillings of our present money. From this price it 
+seems to have fallen gradually to two ounces of silver, equal to 
+about ten shillings of our present money, the price at which we 
+find it estimated in the beginning of the sixteenth century, and at 
+which it seemsto havecontinued to be estimated till about 1570. 
+
+In 1350, being the 25th of Edward III. was enacted what is 
+called theStatuteof Labourers. In the preamble, itcomplainsmuch 
+of the insolence of servants, who endeavoured to raise their wages 
+upon their masters. It therefore ordains, that all servants and 
+labourers should, forthefuture, becontented with thesame wages 
+and liveries (liveries in those times signified not only clothes, but 
+provisions) which they had been accustomed to receive in the 20th 
+
+
+
+151 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+year of the king, and the four preceding years; that, upon this 
+account, their livery-wheat should nowhere be estimated higher 
+than ten pence a-bush el, and that it should always bein theoption 
+of the master to deliver them either the wheat or the money. 
+Tenpence: a-bushel, therefore, had, in the 25th of Edward III. 
+been reckoned a very moderate price of wheat, since it required a 
+particular statute to oblige servants to accept of it in exchange for 
+their usual livery of provisions; and it had been reckoned a reason- 
+able price ten years before that, or in the 16th year of the king, the 
+term to which the statute refers. But in the 16th year of Edward 
+III. ten pence contained about half an ounceof silver, Tower weight, 
+and was nearly equal to half-a-crown of our present money. Four 
+ouncesof silver, Tower weight, therefore, equal to six shillings and 
+eightpenceof the money of those times, and to near twenty shi I- 
+lingsof that of the present, must have been reckoned a moderate 
+price for the quarter of eight bushels. 
+
+Thisstatute is surely a better evidence of what was reckoned, in 
+those times, a moderate price of grain, than the prices of some 
+particular years, which have generally been recorded by historians 
+and other writers, on account of their extraordinary dearnessor 
+cheapness, and from which, therefore, it is difficult to form any 
+judgment concerning what may have been theordinary priceT here 
+are, besides, other reasons for believing that, in the beginning of 
+
+
+
+the fourteenth century, and for some time before, the common 
+price of wheat was not less than four ounces of silver the quarter, 
+and that of other grain in proportion. 
+
+In 1309, Ralph de Born, prior of St Augustine's, Canterbury, 
+gave a feast upon his installation-day, of which William Thorn 
+has preserved, not only the bill of fare, but the prices of many 
+particulars. In that feast were consumed, 1st, fifty-three quarters 
+of wheat, which cost nineteen pounds, or seven shillings, and 
+twopence a-quarter, equal to about one-and-twenty shillings and 
+sixpence of our present money; 2dly, fifty-eight quarters of malt, 
+which cost seventeen poundsten shillings, or six shillings a-quar- 
+ter, equal to about eighteen shillings of our present money; 3dly, 
+twenty quarters of oats, which cost four pounds, or four shillings 
+a-quarter, equal to about twelve shillings of our present money. 
+The prices of malt and oats seem here to lie higher than their 
+ordinary proportion to the price of wheat. 
+
+These prices are not recorded, on account of their extraordinary 
+dearnessor cheapness, but arementioned accidentally, as theprices 
+actually paid for large quantities of grain consumed at a feast, 
+which was famous for its magnificence. 
+
+I n 1262, being the 51st of H enry III. was revived an ancient 
+statute, called the assize of bread and ale, which, the king says in 
+thepreamble, had been madein thetimesof his progenitors, some 
+
+
+
+152 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+time kings of England. It is probably, therefore, as old at least as 
+thetime of his grandfather, H enry II. and may have been as old as 
+theConquest. It regulates the price of bread according as the prices 
+of wheat may happen to be, from one shilling to twenty shillings 
+the quarter of the money of those times. But statutes of this kind 
+are generally presumed to provide with equal care for all devia- 
+tionsfromthemiddleprice, for those below it, aswell as for those 
+above it. Ten shillings, therefore, containing six ounces of silver, 
+Tower weight, and equal to about thirty shillings of our present 
+money, must, upon this supposition, have been reckoned the 
+middle price of the quarter of wheat when this statute was first 
+enacted, and must have continued to be so in the 51st of Henry 
+1 1 1 . We cannot, therefore, be very wrong in supposing that the 
+middle price was not less than one-third of the highest price at 
+which thisstatute regulates the priceof bread, or than six shillings 
+and eightpenceof themoney of those times, containing four ounces 
+of silver, Tower weight. 
+
+From these different facts, therefore, weseem to havesomerea- 
+son to concludethat, about themiddleofthefourteenth century, 
+and for a considerable time before, the average or ordinary price 
+of the quarter of wheat was not supposed to be less than four 
+ounces of silver, Tower weight. 
+
+From about the middle of the fourteenth to the beginning of 
+
+
+
+the sixteenth century, what was reckoned the reasonable and mod- 
+erate, that is, theordinary or average price of wheat, seemsto have 
+sunk gradually to about one half of this price; so as at last to have 
+fallen to about two ounces of silver, Tower weight, equal to about 
+ten shillingsof our present money. It continued to be estimated at 
+this price till about 1570. 
+
+In the household book of Henry, the fifth earl of 
+Northumberland, drawn up in 1512 there are two different esti- 
+mations of wheat. In oneof them it iscomputed at sixshillingand 
+eightpencethequarter, in theother at five shillings and eightpence 
+only. In 1512, six shillings and eightpence contained only two 
+ounces of silver, Tower weight, and were equal to about ten shil- 
+lings of our present money. 
+
+From the 25th of Edward 1 1 1 . to the beginning of the reign of 
+Elizabeth, during the space of more than two hundred years, six 
+shillings and eightpence, it appears from several different statutes, 
+had continued to be considered as what iscalled the moderate and 
+reasonable, that is, the ordinary or average price of wheat. The 
+quantity of silver, however, contained in that nominal sum was, 
+during the course of this period, continually diminishing in con- 
+sequence of some alterations which were made in the coin. But 
+the increase of thevalue of silver had, itseems, so far compensated 
+thediminution of the quantity of it contained in thesamenomi- 
+
+
+
+153 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+nal sum, that the legislature did not think it worth whileto attend 
+to this circumstance. 
+
+Thus, in 1436, it was enacted, that wheat might be exported 
+without a licence when the price was so low as six shillings and 
+eightpence: and in 1463, it was enacted, that no wheat should be 
+imported if the price was not above six shillings and eightpence 
+thequarter: T he legislature had imagined, that when the price was 
+so low, there could be no inconveniency in exportation, but that 
+when it rose higher, it became prudent to allow of importation. 
+Six shillings and eightpence, therefore, containing about thesame 
+quanti ty of silver as thirteen shillings and fourpenceof our present 
+money (one-third part less than thesamenominal sum contained 
+in theti me of Edward III), had, in those times, been considered as 
+what is called the moderate and reasonable price of wheat. 
+
+In 1554, by the 1st and 2nd of Philip and Mary, and in 1558, 
+by the 1st of Elizabeth, the exportation of wheat was in thesame 
+manner prohibited, whenever the price of the quarter should ex- 
+ceed six shillings and eightpence, which did not then contain two 
+penny worth more silver than the same nominal sum does at 
+present. But it had soon been found, that to restrain the exporta- 
+tion of wheat till the price was so very low, was, in reality, to pro- 
+hibit it altogether. In 1562, therefore, by the 5th of Elizabeth, the 
+exportation of wheat was allowed from certain ports, whenever 
+
+
+
+the price of thequarter should not exceed ten shillings, contain- 
+ing nearly the same quantity of silver as thelikenominal sum does 
+at present. This price had atthistime, therefore, been considered 
+as what is called the moderate and reasonable price of wheat. It 
+agrees nearly with the estimation of the Northumberland book in 
+1512. 
+
+That in F ranee theaveragepriceof grain was, in thesame man- 
+ner, much lower in the end of the fifteenth and beginning of the 
+sixteenth century, than in the two centuries preceding, has been 
+observed both by M r D upre de St M aur, and by the elegant au- 
+thor of theEssay on the Policy of Grain. Itsprice, duringthesame 
+period, had probably sunk in thesamemanner through thegreater 
+part of Europe. 
+
+This rise in the value of silver, in proportion to that of corn, 
+may either have been owing altogether to the increase of the de- 
+mand for that metal, in consequence of increasing improvement 
+and cultivation, thesupply, in themean time, continuing thesame 
+as before; or, the demand continuing the same as before, it may 
+have been owing altogether to the gradual diminution of thesup- 
+ply: thegreater part of the mines which were then known in the 
+world being much exhausted, and, consequently, the expense of 
+working them much increased; or it may have been owing partly 
+to the one, and partly to the other of those two circumstances. In 
+
+
+
+154 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+the end of the fifteenth and beginning of the sixteenth centuries, 
+thegreater part of Europe was approaching towardsa moresettled 
+from of government than it had enjoyed for several ages before. 
+The increase of security would naturally increase industry and 
+improvement; and thedemand for the precious metals, as well as 
+for every other luxury and ornament, would naturally increase 
+with the increase of riches. A greater annual produce would re- 
+quire a greater quantity of coin to circulate it; and a greater num- 
+ber of rich people would require a greater quantity of plate and 
+other ornaments of silver. It is natural to suppose, too, that the 
+greater part of the mines which then supplied the European mar- 
+ket with silver might be a good deal exhausted, and have become 
+more expensive in the working. They had been wrought, many of 
+them, from the time of the Romans. 
+
+It has been the opinion, however, of the greater part of those 
+who have written upon thepricesofcommoditiesinancienttimes, 
+that, from theConquest, perhaps from theinvasion of JuliusCae- 
+sar, till the discovery of the mines of America, the value of silver 
+was continually diminishing. Thisopinion they seem to have been 
+led into, partly by the observations which they had occasion to 
+make upon the prices both of corn and of some other parts of the 
+rude produce of land, and partly by the popular notion, that as 
+the quantity of silver naturally increases in every country with the 
+
+
+
+increase of wealth, so its value diminishes as it quantity increases. 
+
+In their observations upon the prices of corn, three different 
+circumstances seem frequently to have misled them. 
+
+First, in ancient times, almost all rents were paid in kind; in a 
+certain quantity of corn, cattle, poultry, etc. It sometimes hap- 
+pened, however, that the landlord would stipulate, that he should 
+beat liberty to demand ofthetenant, either the annual payment 
+in kind or a certain sum of money instead of it. T he priceat which 
+the payment in kind was in this manner exchanged for a certain 
+sum of money, is in Scotland called the conversion price. As the 
+option isalwaysin thelandlord totakeeitherthesubstanceor the 
+price, it is necessary, for the safety of the tenant, that the conver- 
+sion price should rather be below than above the average market 
+price. In many places, accordingly, it is not much above one half 
+of this price. Through the greater part of Scotland this custom 
+still continues with regard to poultry, and in some places with 
+regard to cattle. It might probably have continued to take place, 
+too, with regard to corn, had not the institution of the public fiars 
+put an end to it. These are annual valuations, according to the 
+judgment of an assize, of theaveragepriceof all the different sorts 
+of grain, and of all thedifferent qualities of each, according to the 
+actual market pricein every different county. Thisinstitution ren- 
+dered it sufficiently safe for the tenant, and much more conve- 
+
+
+
+155 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+nient for the landlord, to convert, as they call it, the corn rent, 
+rather at what should happen to be the price of the fiars of each 
+year, than at any certain fixed price. But the writers who have 
+collected the prices of corn in ancient times seem frequently to 
+have mistaken what is called in Scotland the conversion price for 
+theactual market price. Fleetwood acknowledges, upon oneocca- 
+sion, that he had made this mistake. As he wrote his book, how- 
+ever, for a particular purpose, he does not think proper to make 
+this acknowledgment till after transcribing this conversion price 
+fifteen times. Thepriceiseight shillings thequarter of wheat. This 
+sum in 1423, the year at which he begins with it, contained the 
+same quantity of silver as sixteen shillings of our present money. 
+But in 1562, the year at which he ends with it, it contained no 
+more than the same nominal sum does at present. 
+
+Secondly, they have been misled by theslovenly manner in which 
+some ancient statutes of assizehad been sometimestranscribed by 
+lazy copiers, and sometimes, perhaps, actually composed by the 
+legislature. 
+
+The ancient statutes of assize seem to have begun always with 
+determining what ought to be the price of bread and ale when the 
+price of wheat and barley were at the lowest; and to have pro- 
+ceeded gradually to determine what it ought to be, according as 
+the prices of those two sorts of grain should gradually rise above 
+
+
+
+this lowest price. But the transcribers of those statutes seem fre- 
+quently to have thought it sufficient to copy the regulation as far 
+as the three or four first and lowest prices; saving in thismanner 
+theirown labour, and judging, I suppose, that this was enough to 
+show what proportion ought to be observed in all higher prices 
+
+T hus, in theassizeof bread and ale, of the51st of H enry 1 1 1 . the 
+price of bread was regulated according to the different prices of 
+wheat, from one shilling to twenty shillings the quarter of the 
+money of those times. But in the manuscripts from which all the 
+different editions of the statutes, preceding that of M rRuffhead, 
+were printed, the copiers had never transcribed this regulation 
+beyond thepriceof twelve shillings. Several writers, therefore, be- 
+ing misled by this faulty transcription, very naturally conclude 
+that the middle price, or six shillings the quarter, equal to about 
+eighteen shillingsof our present money, was theordinary or aver- 
+age price of wheat at that time. 
+
+In the statute of Tumbrel and Pillory, enacted nearly about the 
+sametime, thepriceof ale is regulated according to every sixpence 
+rise in thepriceof barley, from two shillings, to four shillings the 
+quarter. That four shillings, however, was not considered as the 
+highest price to which barley might frequently rise in those times, 
+and that theseprices were only given as an example of the propor- 
+tion which oughtto be observed in all other prices, whether higher 
+
+
+
+156 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+or lower, we may infer from the last words of the statute: "Et sic 
+deincepscrescetur vd diminuetur per sex denarios." The expres- 
+sion is very slovenly but the meaning is plain enough, "that the 
+price of ale is in this manner to be increased or diminished ac- 
+cording to every sixpence rise or fall in the price of barley." In the 
+composition of thisstatute, thelegislatureitsdfseemsto have been 
+as negligent as the copiers were in the transcription of the other. 
+In an ancient manuscript of the Regiam M ajestatem, an old 
+Scotch law book, there is a statute of assize, in which the price of 
+bread is regulated according to all the different prices of wheat, 
+from tenpenceto three shillings the Scotch boll, equal to about 
+half an English quarter. Three shillings Scotch, at the time when 
+this assize is supposed to have been enacted, were equal to about 
+nineshillings sterling of our present moneyM rRuddiman seems 
+{See his Preface to Anderson's D iplomata Scotiae.} to conclude 
+from this, that three shillingswasthehighest price to which wheat 
+ever rose in those times, and thattenpence, a shilling, or at most 
+two shillings, were theordinary prices. Upon consulting themanu- 
+script, however, it appears evidently, that all these prices are only 
+set down as examples of the proportion which ought to be ob- 
+served between the respective prices of wheat and bread. T he last 
+words of the statute are "rdiqua judicabis secundum praescripta, 
+habendo respectum ad pretium bladi." — "You shall judge of the 
+
+
+
+remaining cases, according to what is above written, having re- 
+spect to the price of corn." 
+
+Thirdly, they seem to have been misled too, by the very low 
+price at which wheat was sometimes sold in very ancient times; 
+and to haveimagined, that as its lowest price was then much lower 
+than in later timesitsordinarypricemustlikewisehave been much 
+lower. They might havefound, however, that in those ancient times 
+its highest price was fully as much above, as its lowest price was 
+bdow any thing that had ever been known in later times. Thus, in 
+1270, Fleetwood givesustwo prices of the quarter of wheat. The 
+one is four pounds sixteen shillings of the money of those times, 
+equal to fourteen poundsdght shillings of that of the present; the 
+other is six pounds dght shillings, equal to nineteen poundsfour 
+shillings of our present money. No price can be found in the end 
+of the fifteenth, or beginning of the sixteenth century, which ap- 
+proaches to the extravagance of these. T he price of corn, though 
+at all times liable to variation varies most in those turbulent and 
+disorderly societies, in which the interruption of all commerce 
+and communication hinders theplenty of onepart of thecountry 
+from relieving the scarcity of another. In the disorderly state of 
+England underthePlantagenets, who governed it from about the 
+middleof thetwelfth till towardstheend of thefifteenth century, 
+one district might be in plenty, while another, at no great dis- 
+
+
+
+157 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+tance, by having its crop destroyed, either by so me accident of the 
+seasons, or by the incursion of some neighbouring baron, might 
+be suffering all the horrors of a famine; and yet if the lands of 
+some hostile lord were interposed between them, the one might 
+not be able to give the least assistance to the other. U nder the 
+vigorous administration of theTudors, who governed England 
+during the latter part of the fifteenth, and through the whole of 
+the sixteenth century, no baron was powerful enough to dare to 
+disturb the public security. 
+
+The reader will find at the end of this chapter all the prices of 
+wheat which have been collected by Fleetwood, from 1202 to 1597, 
+both inclusive, reduced to the money of the present times, and 
+digested, according to the order of time, into seven divisions of 
+twelve years each. Attheend of each division, too, he will find the 
+average price of the twelve years of which it consists. In that long 
+period of time, Fleetwood has been ableto collect the pricesof no 
+more than eighty years; so that four yearsare wanting to makeout 
+the last twelve years. I haveadded, therefore, from theaccountsof 
+Eton college, the prices of 1598, 1599, 1600, and 1601. Itisthe 
+only addition which I have made. The reader will see, that from 
+the beginning of the thirteenth till after the middle of the six- 
+teenth century, theaveragepriceof each twelve yearsgrows gradu- 
+ally lower and lower; and that towards the end of the sixteenth 
+
+
+
+century it beginstoriseagain.Theprices, indeed, which Fleetwood 
+has been able to collect, seem to have been those chiefly which 
+were remarkable for extraordinary dearnessor cheapness; and I do 
+not pretend that any very certain conclusion can be drawn from 
+them. So far, however, as they prove any thing at all, they confirm 
+the account which I have been endeavouring to give. Fleetwood 
+himself, however, seems, with most other writers, to have believed, 
+that, during all this period, the value of silver, in consequence of 
+its increasing abundance, was continually diminishing. The prices 
+of corn, which he himself has collected, certainly do not agree 
+with this opinion. T hey agree perfectly with that of M r D upre de 
+St M aur, and with that which I have been endeavouring to ex- 
+plain. Bishop Fleetwood and M r DupredeSt M aur are the two 
+authors who seem to have collected, with the greatest diligence 
+and fidelity, the prices of things in ancient times. Itissomewhat 
+curiousthat, though their opinionsareso very different, theirfacts, 
+so far as they relate to the price of corn at least, should coincides) 
+very exactly. 
+
+It is not, however, so much from the low price of corn, as from 
+that of some other parts of the rude produce of land, that the 
+most judicious writers have inferred the great value of silver in 
+those very ancient times. Corn, it has been said, being a sort of 
+manufacture, was, in those rude ages, much dearer in proportion 
+
+
+
+158 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+than the greater part of other commodities; it is meant, I suppose, 
+than the greater part of unmanufactured commodities, such as 
+cattle, poultry, game of all kinds, etc. That in those times of pov- 
+erty and barbarism these were proportionably much cheaper than 
+corn, is undoubtedly true. But this cheapness was not the effect of 
+thehigh valueof silver, but of thelowvalueof those commodities. 
+It was not because silver would in such times purchase or repre- 
+sent a greater quantity of labour, but because such commodities 
+would purchaseor represent a much smaller quantity than in times 
+of more opulence and improvement. Silver must certainly be 
+cheaper in Spanish America than in Europe; in the country where 
+it is produced, than in the country to which it is brought, at the 
+expense of a long carriage both by land and by sea, of a freight, 
+and an insurance. ne-and-twentypencehalfpennysterling, how- 
+ever, we are told by U lloa, was, not many years ago, at Buenos 
+Ayres, the price of an ox chosen from a herd of three or four hun- 
+dred. Sixteen shillings sterling, we are told byM r Byron, was the 
+priceofagood horse in the capital of Chili. In acountry naturally 
+fertile, but of which thefar greater part is altogether uncultivated, 
+cattle, poultry, gameof all kinds, etc. as they can be acquired with 
+a very small quantity of labour, so theywill purchaseor command 
+but a very small quantity. The low money price for which they 
+may be sold, is no proof that the real valueof silver is there very 
+
+
+
+high, but that the real value of those commodities is very low. 
+
+Labour, it must always be remembered, and not any particular 
+commodity, or set of commodities, isthereal measure of the value 
+both of silver and of all other commodities. 
+
+But in countries almost waste, or but thinly inhabited, cattle, 
+poultry, game of all kinds, etc. as they are the spontaneous pro- 
+ductions of Nature, so she frequently produces them in much 
+greater quantities than theconsumption of theinhabitants requires. 
+I n such a state of things, the supply commonly exceeds the de- 
+mand. I n different statesof society, in different statesof improve- 
+ment, therefore, such commodities will represent, or be equiva- 
+lent, to very different quantities of labour. 
+
+I n every state of society, in every stage of improvement, corn is 
+the production of human industry. But the average produce of 
+every sort of industry is always suited, more or less exactly, to the 
+average consumption; the average supply to the average demand. 
+In every different stage of improvement, besides, the raising of 
+equal quantities of corn in the same soil and climate, will, at an 
+average, require nearly equal quantities of labour; or, what comes 
+to the same thing, the price of nearly equal quantities; the con- 
+tinual increase of the productive powers of labour, in an improved 
+state of cultivation, being more or less counterbalanced by the 
+continual increasing price of cattle, the principal instruments of 
+
+
+
+159 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+agriculture. Upon all these accounts, therefore, we may rest as- 
+sured, that equal quantities of corn will, in every state of society, 
+in every stage of improvement, more nearly represent, or be equiva- 
+lent to, equal quantities of labour, than equal quantities of any 
+other part of the rude produce of land. Corn, accordingly, it has 
+already been observed, is, in all the different stages of wealth and 
+improvement, a more accurate measure of value than any other 
+commodity or set of commodities. In all those different stages, 
+therefore, we can judge better of the real value of silver, by com- 
+paring it with corn, than by comparing it with any other com- 
+modity or set of commodities. 
+
+Corn, besides, or whatever else is the common and favourite 
+vegetablefood of thepeople, constitutes, in every civilized coun- 
+try, the principal part of the subsistence of the labourer. In conse- 
+quence of the extension of agriculture, the land of every country 
+producesamuch greater quantity of vegetablethan of animal food, 
+and the labourer everywhere lives chiefly upon the wholesome 
+food that is cheapest and most abundant. Butcher's meat, except 
+in the most thriving countries, or where labour is most highly 
+rewarded, makes but an insignificant part of hissubsistence; poultry 
+makes a still smaller part of it, and game no part of it. I n France, 
+and even in Scotland, where labour is somewhat better rewarded 
+than in France, the labouring poor seldom eat butcher's meat, 
+
+
+
+except upon holidays, and other extraordinary occasions. The 
+money price of labour, therefore, depends much more upon the 
+average money price of corn, thesubsistenceof the labourer, than 
+upon that of butcher's meat, or of any other part of the rude pro- 
+duce of land. The real value of gold and silver, therefore, the real 
+quantity of labour which they can purchase or command, depends 
+much moreupon the quantity of corn which they can purchase or 
+command, than upon that of butcher's meat, or any other part of 
+the rude produce of land. 
+
+Such slight observations, however, upon theprices either of corn 
+or of other commodities, would not probably have misled so many 
+intelligent authors, had they not been influenced at thesametime 
+by the popular notion, that as the quantity of silver naturally in- 
+creases in every country with the increase of wealth, so its value 
+diminishes as its quantity increases. This notion, however, seems 
+to be altogether groundless. 
+
+T he quantity of the precious metals may increase in any coun- 
+try from two different causes; either, first, from the increased abun- 
+dance of the mines which supply it; or, secondly, from the in- 
+creased wealth of thepeople, from the increased produce of their 
+annual labour. The first of these causes is no doubt necessarily 
+connected with the diminution of the value of the precious met- 
+als; but the second is not. 
+
+
+
+160 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+When mo re abundant mines are discovered, a greater quantity 
+of the precious metals is brought to market; and the quantity of 
+the necessaries and conveniences of life for which they must be 
+exchanged being the same as before, equal quantitiesof themetals 
+must be exchanged for smaller quantitiesof commodities. So far, 
+therefore, as the increase of the quantity of the precious metals in 
+any country arises from the increased abundance of the mines, it 
+is necessarily connected with some diminution of their value. 
+
+When, on the contrary, the wealth of any country increases, 
+when the annual produce of its labour becomes gradually greater 
+and greater, a greater quantity of coin becomes necessary in order 
+to circulatea greater quantity of commodities: and the people, as 
+they can afford it, as they have more commodities to give for it, 
+will naturally purchase a greater and a greater quantity of plate. 
+The quantity of their coin will increase from necessity; the quan- 
+tity of their plate from vanity and ostentation, or from the same 
+reason that the quantity of fine statues, pictures, and of every other 
+luxury and curiosity, islikely to increase among them. But as statu- 
+aries and painters are not likely to be worse rewarded in times of 
+wealth and prosperity, than in times of poverty and depression, so 
+gold and silver are not likely to be worse paid for. 
+
+The price of gold and silver, when the accidental discovery of 
+more abundant mines does not keep it down, as it naturally rises 
+
+
+
+with the wealth of every country; so, whatever be the state of the 
+mines, it is at all times naturally higher in a rich than in a poor 
+country. Gold and silver, likeall other commodities, naturally seek 
+the market where the best price is given for them, and the best 
+price iscommonly given for every thing in the country which can 
+best afford it. Labour, it must be remembered, istheultimate price 
+which is paid for every thing; and in countries where labour is 
+equally well rewarded, the money price of labour will be in pro- 
+portion to that of the subsistence of the labourer. But gold and 
+silver will naturally exchange for a greater quantity of subsistence 
+in a rich than in a poor country; in a country which abounds with 
+subsistence, than in one which is but indifferently supplied with 
+it. I f the two countries are at a great distance, the difference may 
+be very great; because, though the metals naturally fly from the 
+worse to the better market, yet it may be difficult to transport 
+them in such quantities as to bring their price nearly to a level in 
+both. If the countries are near, the difference will be smaller, and 
+may sometimes be scarce perceptible; becausein thiscasethetrans- 
+portation will be easy. China is a much richer country than any 
+part of Europe, and the difference between the price of subsis- 
+tence in China and in Europe is very great. RiceinChinaismuch 
+cheaper than wheat is any where in Europe. England is a much 
+richer country than Scotland, but thedifference between themoney 
+
+
+
+161 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+price of corn in those two countries is much smaller, and is but 
+just perceptible. In proportion to thequantity or measure, Scotch 
+corn generally appears to be a good deal cheaper than English; 
+but, in proportion to its quality, it is certainly somewhat dearer. 
+Scotland receives almost every year very large supplies from En- 
+gland, and every commodity must commonly be somewhat dearer 
+in the country to which it is brought than in that from which it 
+comes. English corn, therefore, must be dearer in Scotland than 
+in England; and yet in proportion to itsquality, or to thequantity 
+and goodness of the flour or meal which can be made from it, it 
+cannot commonly be sold higher there than theScotch corn which 
+comes to market in competition with it. 
+
+Thedifferencebetweenthemoneypriceof labourinChinaand 
+in Europe, is still greater than that between the money price of 
+subsistence; because the real recompence of labour is higher in 
+Europe than in China, the greater part of Europe being in an 
+improving state, whileChinaseemstobestandingstill.Themoney 
+price of labour is lower in Scotland than in England, because the 
+real recompence of labour is much lower: Scotland, though ad- 
+vancing to greater wealth, advances much more slowly than En- 
+gland. Thefrequency of emigration from Scotland, and the rarity 
+of it from England, sufficiently prove that the demand for labour 
+isvery different in thetwo countries. The proportion between the 
+
+
+
+real recompenceof labour in different countries, it must be remem- 
+bered, is naturally regulated, not by their actual wealth or poverty, 
+but by their advancing, stationary, or declining condition. 
+
+Gold and silver, as they are naturally of thegreatestvalueamong 
+therichest, sotheyarenaturallyoftheleastvalueamongthepoorest 
+nations. Among savages, the poorest of all nations, they are scarce 
+of any value. 
+
+In great towns, corn is always dearer than in remote parts of the 
+country. This, however, isthe effect, not of the real cheapness of 
+silver, but of the real dearnessof corn. It does not cost less labour 
+to bring silver to the great town than to the remote parts of the 
+country; but it costs a great deal more to bring corn. 
+
+In some very rich and commercial countries, such as H olland 
+and theterritory of G enoa, corn is dear for thesame reason that it 
+is dear in great towns. They do not produce enough to maintain 
+their inhabitants. They are rich in the industry and skill of their 
+artificers and manufacturers, in every sort of machinery which 
+can facilitate and abridge labour; in shipping, and in all theother 
+instruments and means of carriage and commerce: but they are 
+poor in corn, which, as it must be brought to them from distant 
+countries, must, by an addition to its price, pay for the carriage 
+from those countries. It does not cost less labour to bring silver to 
+Amsterdam than to D antzic; but it costsa great deal more to bring 
+
+
+
+162 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+corn. The real cost of silver must be nearly the same in both places; 
+but that of corn must be very different. D iminish the real opu- 
+lence either of H olland or of the territory of Genoa, while the 
+number of their inhabitants remainsthesame; diminish their power 
+of supplying themselves from distant countries; and the price of 
+corn, instead of sinking with that diminution in the quantity of 
+their silver, which must necessarily accompany this declension, 
+either as itscauseor as its effect, will rise to the price of a famine. 
+When we are in want of necessaries, we must part with all super- 
+fluities, of which the value, as it rises in times of opulence and 
+prosperity, so it sinks in times of poverty and distress. It is other- 
+wise with necessaries. Their real price, thequantity of labourwhich 
+they can purchase or command, risesin times of poverty and dis- 
+tress, and sinks in times of opulence and prosperity, which are 
+always times of great abundance; for they could not otherwise be 
+times of opulence and prosperity. Corn isa necessary, silver isonly 
+a superfluity. 
+
+W hatever, therefore, may have been the increase in thequantity 
+of the precious metals, which, during the period between the 
+middle of the fourteenth and that of the sixteenth century, arose 
+from the increase of wealth and improvement, it could have no 
+tendency to diminish their value, either in Great Britain, or in my 
+other part of Europe. If those who have collected the prices of 
+
+
+
+things in ancient times, therefore, had, during thisperiod, no rea- 
+son to infer the diminution of the value of silver from any obser- 
+vations which they had made upon the prices either of corn, or of 
+other commodities, they had still less reason to infer it from any 
+supposed increase of wealth and improvement. 
+
+Second Period. — But how various soever may have been the 
+opinions of the learned concerning the progress of the value of 
+silver during the first period, they are unanimous concerning it 
+during the second. 
+
+From about 1570 to about 1640, during a period of about sev- 
+enty years, the variation in the proportion between the value of 
+silver and that of corn held a quite opposite course. Silver sunk in 
+its real value, or would exchange for a smaller quantity of labour 
+than before; and corn rose in its nominal price, and, instead of 
+being commonly sold for about two ounces of silver the quarter, 
+or about ten shillingsof our present money, cameto be sold for six 
+and eight ounces of silver the quarter, or about thirty and forty 
+shillingsof our present money. 
+
+Thediscoveryoftheabundantminesof America seemsto have 
+been the sole cause of this diminution in the value of silver, in 
+proportion to that of corn. It isaccounted for, accordingly, in the 
+same manner by every body; and there never has been any dis- 
+pute, either about the fact, or about the cause of it. The greater 
+
+
+
+163 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+part of Europe was, during this period, advancing in industry and 
+improvement, and the demand for silver must consequently have 
+been increasing; but the increase of the supply had, it seems, so far 
+exceeded that of the demand, that the value of that metal sunk 
+considerably. The discovery of the mines of America, it is to be 
+observed, does not seem to have had any very sensible effect upon 
+the prices of things in England till after 1570; though even the 
+minesof Potosi had been discovered morethan twenty years before. 
+
+From 1595 to 1620, both inclusive, the average price of the 
+quarter of nine bushels of the best wheat, at Windsor market, 
+appears, from the accounts of Eton college, to have been £ 2:1:6 
+9/13. From which sum, neglecting thefraction, and deducting a 
+ninth, or 4s. 7 l/3d., the price of the quarter of eight bushels 
+comes out to have been £ 1:16:10 2/3. And from this sum, ne- 
+glecting likewise the fraction, and deducting a ninth, or 4s. 1 1/ 
+9d., for the difference between the price of the best wheat and that 
+of the middle wheat, the price of the middle wheat comes out to 
+have been about £ 1:12:8 8/9, or about six ounces and one-third 
+of an ounce of silver. 
+
+From 1621 to 1636, both inclusive, the average price of the same 
+measure of the best wheat, at the same market, appears, from the 
+same accounts, to have been £ 2:10s.; from which, making the like 
+deductionsasin theforegoingcase, the average price of the quarter 
+
+
+
+of eight bushels of middle wheat comes out to have been £ 1:19:6, 
+or about seven ounces and two-thirds of an ounce of silver. 
+
+Third Period. — Between 1630 and 1640, or about 1636, the 
+effect of the discovery of the mines of America, in reducing the 
+value of silver, appears to have been completed, and the value of 
+that metal seems never to havesunk lower in proportion to that of 
+corn than it was about that time. It seems to have risen somewhat 
+in the course of the present century, and it had probably begun to 
+do so, even some time before the end of thelast. 
+
+From 1637 to 1700, both inclusive, being the sixty-four last 
+years of the last century the average price of the quarter of nine 
+bushels of the best wheat, at W indsor market, appears, from the 
+same accounts, to have been £ 2:11:0 1/3, which is only Is. 1/ 
+3d. dearer than it had been during thesixteen years before. But, in 
+the course of these sixty-four years, there happened two events, 
+which must have produced a much greater scarcity of corn than 
+what the course of the season iswould otherwisehave occasioned, 
+and which, therefore, without supposing any further reduction in 
+the value of silver, will much morethan account for thisvery small 
+enhancement of price. 
+
+Thefirst of these events was the civil war, which, by discourag- 
+ingtillageand interrupting commerce, must have raised the price 
+of corn much above what the course of the seasons would other- 
+
+
+
+164 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+wise have occasioned. It must have had this effect, moreor less, at 
+all the different markets in the kingdom, but particularly at those 
+in the neighbourhood of London, which require to be supplied 
+from the greatest distance. In 1648, accordingly, the price of the 
+best wheat, at Windsor market, appears, from the same accounts, 
+to have been £ 4:5s., and, in 1649, to have been £ 4, the quarter of 
+nine bushels. The excess of those two years above £ 2:10s. (the 
+average price of thesixteen years preceding 1637 isf 3:5s., which, 
+divided among the sixty four last years of the last century, will 
+alone very nearly account for that small enhancement of price 
+which seemsto have taken placein them.) These, however, though 
+the highest, are by no means the only high prices which seem to 
+have been occasioned by the civil wars. 
+
+Thesecond event was the bounty upon the exportation of corn, 
+granted in 1688. The bounty, it has been thought by many people, 
+by encouraging tillage, may, in a long course of years, have occa- 
+sioned a greater abundance, and, consequently, a greater cheap- 
+ness of corn in the home market, than what would otherwise have 
+taken place there. H ow far the bounty could produce this effect at 
+anytime I shall examine hereafter: I shall only observe at present, 
+that between 1688 and 1700, it had not timeto produce any such 
+effect. During thisshort period, its only effect must have been, by 
+encouraging the exportation of the surplus produceof every year, 
+
+
+
+and thereby hindering the abundance of one year from compen- 
+sating the scarcity of another, to raise the price in the home mar- 
+ket. The scarcity which prevailed in England, from 1693 to 1699, 
+both inclusive, though no doubt principally owing to thebadness 
+of the seasons, and, therefore, extending through a considerable 
+part of Europe, must have been somewhat enhanced by the bounty. 
+In 1699, accordingly, thefurther exportation of corn was prohib- 
+ited for nine months. 
+
+There was a third event which occurred in the course of the 
+same period, and which, though it could not occasion any scar- 
+city of corn, nor, perhaps, any augmentation in the real quantity 
+of silver which wasusually paid for it, must necessarily have occa- 
+sioned some augmentation in the nominal sum. This event was 
+the great debasement of the silver coin, by clipping and wearing. 
+This evil had begun in the reign of Charles 1 1, and had gone on 
+continually increasing till 1695; at which time, as we may learn 
+from M r Lowndes, thecurrent silver coin was, at an average, near 
+five- and -twenty per cent, below its standard value. But the nomi- 
+nal sum which constitutes the market priceof every commodity is 
+necessarily regulated, not so much by thequantity of silver, which, 
+according to the standard, ought to be contained in it, as by that 
+which, it isfound by experience, actually is contained in it. This 
+nominal sum, therefore, is necessarily higher when thecoin ismuch 
+
+
+
+165 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+debased by clipping and wearing, than when near to its standard 
+value. 
+
+In the course of the present century, the silver coin has not at 
+anytimebeen more below its standard weight than it isat present. 
+But though very much defaced, its value has been kept up by that 
+ofthegold coin, for which it is exchanged. For though, before the 
+late recoinage, the gold coin was a good deal defaced too, it was 
+less so than the silver. In 1695, on the contrary, the value of the 
+silver coin was not kept up by the gold coin; a guinea then com- 
+monly exchanging for thirty shillings of the worn and dipt silver. 
+Before thelaterecoinageofthegold,thepriceof silver bullion was 
+seldom higher than five shillings and sevenpencean ounce, which 
+is but fivepence above the mint price. But in 1695, the common 
+price of silver bullion was six shillings and fivepence an ounce, 
+{Lowndes's Essay on the Silver Coin, 68.} which is fifteen pence 
+above the mint price. Even before the I ate recoinage of the gold, 
+therefore, thecoin, gold and silver together, when compared with 
+silver bullion, was not supposed to be more than eight per cent, 
+below its standard value, In 1695, on the contrary, it had been 
+supposed to be near five-and-twenty per cent, below that value. 
+But in the beginning of the present century, that is, immediately 
+after thegreat recoinage in King William'stime, thegreaterpartof 
+the current silver coin must have been still nearer to its standard 
+
+
+
+weight than it is at present. I n the course of the present century, 
+too, there has been no great public calamity, such as a civil war, 
+which could either discourage til I age, or interrupt theinterior com- 
+merce of the country. And though the bounty which has taken 
+place through the greater part of this century, must always raise 
+the price of corn somewhat higher than it otherwise would be in 
+the actual state of tillage; yet, as in the course of this century, the 
+bounty has had full time to produce all the good effects com- 
+monly imputed to it to en courage til I age, and thereby to increase 
+the quantity of corn in the home market, it may, upon the prin- 
+ciples of a system which I shall explain and examine hereafter, be 
+supposed to have done something to lower the price of that com- 
+modity the one way, as well as to raise it the other. It is by many 
+people supposed to have done more. I n the sixty-four years of the 
+present century, accordingly, the average price of the quarter of 
+nine bushels of the best wheat, at W indsor market, appears, by 
+theaccountsof Eton college, to have been £ 2:0:6 10/32, which is 
+about ten shillings and sixpence, or more than five-and-twenty 
+percent, cheaper than it had been during the sixty-four last years 
+of the last century; and about nineshillings and sixpence cheaper 
+than it had been during the sixteen years preceding 1636, when 
+thediscovery of theabundant mines of America may be supposed 
+to have produced its full effect; and about one shilling cheaper 
+
+
+
+166 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+than it had been in the twenty-six years preceding 1620, before 
+that discovery can well be supposed to have produced its full ef- 
+fect. According to this account, the average price of middle wheat, 
+during these sixty-four first years of the present century, comes 
+out to have been about thirty-two shillings the quarter of eight 
+bushels. 
+
+The value of silver, therefore, seems to have risen somewhat in 
+proportion to that of corn during the course of the present cen- 
+tury, and it had probably begun to do so even sometime before 
+the end of the last. 
+
+In 1687, thepriceofthequarter of ninebushelsof thebest wheat, 
+at Windsor market, wasf 1:5:2, the lowest price at which it had 
+ever been from 1595. 
+
+In 1688, M rGregory King, aman famousfor his knowledge in 
+mattersof thiskind, estimated theaveragepriceof wheat, in years 
+of moderate plenty, to be to the grower 3s. 6d. the bushel, or 
+eight-and-twenty shillingsthequarter. Thegrower'spricel under- 
+stand to be the same with what is sometimes called the contract 
+price, or the price at which a farmer contracts for a certain num- 
+ber of years to deliver a certain quantity of corn to a dealer. As a 
+contract of this kind saves the farmer the expense and trouble of 
+marketing, the contract price is generally lower than what is sup- 
+
+
+
+posed to be the average market price. M r King had judged aght- 
+and-twenty shillings the quarter to be at that time the ordinary 
+contract price in years of moderate plenty. Before the scarcity oc- 
+casioned by the I ate extraordinary course of bad seasons, it was, I 
+have been assured, theordinary contract pricein all common years. 
+I n 1688 was granted the parliamentary bounty upon theexpor- 
+tation of corn. Thecountry gentlemen, who then composed astill 
+greater proportion of the legislature than they do at present, had 
+fdt that the money price of corn was falling. T he bounty was an 
+expedient to raise it artificially to the high price at which it had 
+frequently been sold in the times of Charles I. and II. It was to 
+take place, therefore, till wheat was so high asfortyeight shillings 
+the quarter; that is, twenty shillings, or 5-7ths dearer than M r 
+King had, in that very year, estimated the grower's price to be in 
+times of moderate plenty. If his calculations deserve any part of 
+the reputation which they have obtained very universally, aght- 
+and-forty shillings the quarter was a price which, without some 
+such expedient as the bounty, could not at that time be expected, 
+except in years of extraordinary scarcity. But the government of 
+King William wasnotthen fully settled. It was in no condition to 
+refuse anything to the country gentlemen, from whom it was, at 
+that very time, soliciting thefirst establishment of theannual land- 
+tax. 
+
+
+
+167 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+Thevalueof silver, therefore, in proportion to that of corn, had 
+probably risen somewhat before theend of the last century; and it 
+seemsto havecontinued to do so during the course of the greater 
+part of the present, though the necessary operation of the bounty 
+must havehindered that rise from being so sensibleasit otherwise 
+would have been in the actual state of tillage. 
+
+In plentiful years, the bounty, by occasioning an extraordinary 
+exportation, necessarily raises theprice of corn above what it oth- 
+erwise would be in those years. To encourage tillage, by keeping 
+up the price of corn, even in the most plentiful years, was the 
+avowed end of the institution. 
+
+I n years of great scarcity, indeed, the bounty has generally been 
+suspended. It must, however, have had some effect upon the prices 
+of many of those years. By the extraordinary exportation which it 
+occasions in years of plenty, it must frequently hinder the plenty 
+of one year from compensating the scarcity of another. 
+
+Both in years of plenty and in years of scarcity, therefore, the 
+bounty raises the priceof corn above what it naturally would bein 
+the actual state of tillage. If during the sixty-four first years of the 
+present century, therefore, the average price has been lower than 
+during the sixty-four last years of the last century, it must, in the 
+same state of tillage, have been much more so, had it not been for 
+this operation of the bounty. 
+
+
+
+But, without the bounty, itmay besaid thestateof tillagewould 
+not have been the same. W hat may have been the effects of this 
+institution upon the agriculture of the country, I shall endeavour 
+to explain hereafter, when I cometo treat particularly of bounties. 
+I shall only observe at present, that this rise in thevalueof silver, 
+in proportion to that of corn, hasnotbeen peculiar to England. It 
+has been observed to have taken placein France during the same 
+period, and nearly in thesame proportion, too, by three very faith- 
+ful, diligent, and laborious collectors of the prices of corn, M r 
+DupredeSt Maur, M r Messance, and the author of the Essay on 
+the Police of Grain. But in France, till 1764, the exportation of 
+grain was by law prohibited; and it is somewhat difficult to sup- 
+pose, that nearly the same diminution of price which took place 
+in one country, notwithstanding this prohibition, should, in an- 
+other, be owing to the extraordinary encouragement given to ex- 
+portation. 
+
+It would bemoreproper, perhaps, to consider this variation in 
+theaveragemoney priceof corn astheeffect rather of somegradual 
+rise in the real valueof silver in the European market, than of any 
+fall in the real average value of corn. Corn, it has already been 
+observed, is, at distant periods of time, a more accurate measure 
+of valuethan either silver or, perhaps, any other commodity. W hen, 
+after the disco very of the abundant mines of America, corn rose to 
+
+
+
+168 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+three and four times its former money price, this change was uni- 
+versally ascribed, not to any rise in the real value of corn, but to a 
+fall in the real value of silver. If, during thesixty-four first yearsof 
+the present century, therefore, the average money price of corn 
+has fallen somewhat below what it had been during the greater 
+part of the last century, we should, in the same manner, impute 
+this change, not to any fall in the real value of corn, but to some 
+rise in the real value of silver in the European market. 
+
+The high price of corn during these ten or twelve years past, 
+indeed, has occasioned a suspicion that the real valueof silver still 
+continues to fall in the European market. This high priceof corn, 
+however, seems evidently to have been the effect of the extraordi- 
+nary unfavourableness of the seasons, and ought, therefore, to be 
+regarded, not as a permanent, but as a transitory and occasional 
+event. T he seasons, for these ten or twelve years past, have been 
+unfavourable through the greater part of Europe; and the disor- 
+ders of Poland have very much increased the scarcity in all those 
+countries, which, in dear years, used to be supplied from that 
+market. So long a course of bad seasons, though not a very com- 
+mon event, is by no means a singular one; and whoever has in- 
+quired much intothehistoryof thepricesof corn in former times, 
+will be at no loss to recollect several other examples of the same 
+kind. Ten years of extraordinary scarcity, besides, are not more 
+
+
+
+wonderful than ten yearsof extraordinary plenty. The low priceof 
+corn, from 1741 to 1750, both inclusive, may very well beset in 
+opposition to its high price during these last eight or ten years. 
+From 1741 to 1750, theaverage priceof thequarter of ninebush- 
+els of the best wheat, at W indsor market, it appears from the ac- 
+counts of Eton college, was only £ 1:13:9 4/5, which is nearly 
+6s.3d. below the average price of the sixty-four first years of the 
+present century. T he average price of the quarter of eight bushels 
+of middle wheat comes out, according to this account, to have 
+been, during these ten years, only £ 1:6:8. 
+
+Between 1741 and 1750, however, the bounty must have hin- 
+dered the price of corn from falling so low in the home market as 
+it naturally would havedone. D uring these ten years, thequantity 
+of all sorts of grain exported, it appears from the custom-house 
+books, amounted to no less than 8,029,156 quarters, one bushel. 
+T he bounty paid for this amounted to £ 1,514,962:17:4 1/2. 1 n 
+1749, accordingly, M r Pelham, at that time prime minister, ob- 
+served to the house of commons, that, for the three years preced- 
+ing, a very extraordinary sum had been paid as bounty for the 
+exportation of corn. H e had good reason to make this observa- 
+tion, and in the following year he might have had still better. In 
+that single year, the bounty paid amounted to no less than £ 
+324,176:10:6. £&gt;ee Tracts on the Corn Trade, Tract 3,} It is un- 
+
+
+
+169 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+necessary to observe how much thisforced exportation must have 
+raised the price of corn above what it otherwise would have been 
+in the home market. 
+
+At the end of the accounts annexed to this chapter the reader 
+will find the particular account of those ten years separated from 
+the rest. H ewill find there, too, the particular account of the pre- 
+ceding ten years, of which the average is likewise below, though 
+not so much below, thegeneral average of the sixty- four first years 
+of the century. T he year 1740, however, was a year of extraordi- 
+nary scarcity. T hese twenty years preceding 1750 may very well be 
+set in opposition to the twenty preceding 1770. As the former 
+were a good deal below the general average of the century, not- 
+withstanding the intervention of one or two dear years; so the 
+latter have been a good deal above it, notwithstanding the inter- 
+vention of one or two cheap ones, of 1759, for example. If the 
+former have not been as much below the general average as the 
+latter have been above it, we ought probably to impute it to the 
+bounty. T he change has evidently been too sudden to be ascri bed 
+to any change in the value of silver, which is always slow and 
+gradual. The suddenness of the effect can be accounted for only 
+by a cause which can operate suddenly, the accidental variations 
+of the seasons. 
+
+The money price of labour in Great Britain has, indeed, risen 
+
+
+
+during the course of the present century. This, however, seems to 
+betheeffect, not so much of any diminution in the value of silver 
+in the European market, asofan increaseinthedemand for labour 
+in Great Britain, arising from thegreat, and almost universal pros- 
+perity of the country. In France, a country not altogether so pros- 
+perous, the money price of labour has, since the middleof the last 
+century, been observed to sink gradually with the average money 
+priceof corn. Both in the last century and in the present, theday 
+wages of common labour are there said to have been pretty uni- 
+formly about the twentieth part of the average price of the septier 
+of wheat; a measure which contains a little more than four Win- 
+chester bushels. In Great Britain, the real recompenceof labour, it 
+has already been shewn, the real quantities of the necessaries and 
+con ven i en cies of life which are given to the labourer, has increased 
+considerably during thecourseofthepresent century. Therisein its 
+money priceseemsto havebeen theeffect, not of anydiminution of 
+the value of silver in thegeneral market of Europe, but of arisein 
+the real price of labour, in the particular market of Great Britain, 
+owing to the peculiarly happy circumstances of the country. 
+
+For sometime after thefirst discovery of America, silver would 
+continue to sell at its former, or not much below its former price. 
+The profits of mining would for some time be very great, and 
+much above their natural rate. Those who imported that metal 
+
+
+
+170 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+into Europe, however, would soon find that the whole annual 
+importation could not be disposed of at this high price. Silver 
+would gradually exchange for a smaller and a smaller quantity of 
+goods. Its price would sink gradually lower and lower, till it fell to 
+itsnatural price; or to what wasjust sufficient to pay, accordingto 
+their natural rates, thewagesofthelabour, theprofitsofthestock, 
+and the rent of the land, which must be paid in order to bring it 
+from the mi neto the market. In thegreater part of thesilver mines 
+of Peru, the tax of the king of Spain, amounting to a tenth of the 
+gross produce, eats up, it has already been observed, the whole 
+rent of the land. Thistax was originally a half; it soon afterwards 
+fell to a third, then to a fifth, and at last to a tenth, at which late it 
+still continues. In the greater part of the silver mines of Peru, this, 
+it seems, isall that remains, after replacing the stock of theunder- 
+taker of the work, together with its ordinary profits; and it seems 
+to beuniversally acknowledged that these profits, which were once 
+very high, are now as low as they can well be, consistently with 
+carrying on the works. 
+
+The tax of the king of Spain was reduced to a fifth of the regis- 
+tered silver in 1504 {Solorzano, vol, ii.}, one-and-forty years be- 
+fore 1545, the date of the discovery of the mines of Potosi. I n the 
+course of ninety years, or before 1636, these mines, the most fer- 
+tilein all America, had time sufficient to produce their full effect, 
+
+
+
+or to reducethevalueof silver in the European market as low as it 
+could well fall, while it continued to pay thistax to the king of 
+Spain. Ninety yearsistimesufficientto reduce any commodity, of 
+which there is no monopoly, to its natural price, or to the lowest 
+price at which, while it paysa particular tax, it can continue to be 
+sold for any considerabletime together. 
+
+Thepriceof silver in the European market might, perhaps, have 
+fallen still lower, and it might have become necessary either to 
+reduce the tax upon it, not only to one-tenth, as in 1736, but to 
+one twentieth, in the same manner as that upon gold, or to give 
+up working the greater part of the American mines which are now 
+wrought. The gradual increase of the demand for silver, or the 
+gradual enlargement of the market for the produce of the silver 
+mines of America, is probably the cause which has prevented this 
+from happening, and which has not only kept up the value of 
+silver in theEuropean market, buthasperhapseven raised it some- 
+what higher than it was about the middle of the last century. 
+
+Sincethefirst discovery of America, the market for the produce 
+of its silver mines has been growing gradually more and more ex- 
+tensive. 
+
+First, themarket of Europehasbecomegradually more and more 
+extensive. Si nee the discovery of America, thegreater part of Eu- 
+rope has been much improved. England, Holland, France, and 
+
+
+
+171 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+Germany; even Sweden, Denmark, and Russia, have all advanced 
+considerably, both in agriculture and in manufactures. Italy seems 
+not to have gone backwards. The fall of Italy preceded the con- 
+quest of Peru. Si nee that time it seems rather to have recovered a 
+little. Spain and Portugal, indeed, aresupposed to havegoneback- 
+wards. Portugal, however, is but a very small part of Europe, and 
+the declension of Spain is not, perhaps, so great as is commonly 
+imagined. In the beginning of the sixteenth century, Spain was a 
+very poor country, even in comparison with France, which has 
+been so much improved since that time. It was the well known 
+remark of the emperor C harles V. who had travelled so frequently 
+through both countries, that everything abounded in France, but 
+that everything was wanting in Spain. The increasing produceof 
+theagricultureand manufactures of Europe must necessarily have 
+required a gradual increase in the quantity of silver coin to circu- 
+late it; and the increasing number of wealthy individuals must 
+have required the like increase in the quantity of their plate and 
+other ornaments of silver. 
+
+Secondly, America is itself a new market, for the produce of its 
+own silver mines; and as its advances in agriculture, industry, and 
+population, are much more rapid than those of the most thriving 
+countries in Europe, its demand must increase much more rap- 
+idly. The English colonies are altogether a new market, which, 
+
+
+
+partly for coin, and partly for plate, requiresa continual augment- 
+ing supply of silver through a great continent where there never 
+was any demand before. T he greater part, too, of the Span ish and 
+Portuguese colonies, are altogether new markets. New Granada, 
+theYucatan, Paraguay, and the Brazils, were, before discovered by 
+the Europeans, inhabited by savage nations, who had neither arts 
+nor agriculture. A considerable degree of both has now been in- 
+troduced into all of them. Even M exico and Peru, though they 
+cannot beconsidered as altogether new markets, arecertainly much 
+more extensive ones than they ever were before. After all the won- 
+derful tales which have been published concerning the splendid 
+state of those countries in ancient times, whoever reads, with any 
+degree of sober judgment, the history of their first discovery and 
+conquest, will evidently discern that, in arts, agriculture, and com- 
+merce, their inhabitants were much more ignorant than theTar- 
+tars of the U kraine are at present. Even the Peruvians, the more 
+civilized nation of the two, though they made use of gold and 
+silver as ornaments, had no coined money of anykind.Theirwhole 
+commerce was carried on by barter, and there was accordingly 
+scarce any division of labour among them. T hose who cultivated 
+theground, were obliged to build their own houses, to maketheir 
+own household furniture, their own clothes, shoes, and instru- 
+ments of agriculture. The few artificers among them are said to 
+
+
+
+172 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+have been all maintained by the sovereign, the nobles, and the 
+priests, and were probably their servants or slaves. All the ancient 
+artsof M exicoand Peru have never furnished onesinglemanufac- 
+ture to Europe. T he Spanish armies, though they scarce ever ex- 
+ceeded five hundred men, and frequently did not amount to half 
+that number, found almost everywhere great difficulty in procur- 
+ing subsistence. The famines which they are said to have occa- 
+sioned almost wherever they went, in countries, too, which at the 
+same time are represented as very populous and well cultivated, 
+sufficiently demonstrate that the story of this populousness and 
+high cultivation isin a great measure fabulous. The Spanish colo- 
+nies are under a government in many respects less favourable to 
+agriculture, improvement, and population, than that of the En- 
+glish colonies They seem, however, to be advancing in all those 
+much more rapidly than any country in Europe. In a fertile soil 
+and happy climate, the great abundance and cheapness of land, a 
+circumstancecommontoall new colonies, is, it seems, so great an 
+advantage, as to compensate many defects in civil government. 
+Frezier, who visited Peru in 1713, represents Lima as containing 
+between twenty-five and twenty-eight thousand inhabitants. U lloa, 
+who resided in the same country between 1740 and 1746, repre- 
+sentsit as containing more than fifty thousand. Thedifferencein 
+their accounts of thepopulousn ess of several other principal towns 
+
+
+
+of Chili and Peru is nearly the same; and as there seems to be no 
+reason to doubt of the good information of either, it marks an 
+increase which is scarce inferior to that of the English colonies. 
+America, therefore, is a new market for the produce of its own 
+silver mines, of which thedemand must increase much more rap- 
+idly than that of the most thriving country in Europe. 
+
+Thirdly, the East Indies isanother market for the produceof the 
+silver minesof America, and a market which, from thetimeof the 
+first discovery of those mines, has been continually taking off a 
+greater and a greater quantity of silver. Since that time, thedirect 
+trade between America and the East Indies, which is carried on by 
+means of the Acapulco ships, has been continually augmenting, 
+and the indirect intercourse by the way of Europe has been aug- 
+menting in a still greater proportion. During the sixteenth cen- 
+tury, the Portuguese were the only European nation who carried 
+on any regular trade to the East I ndies. I n the last years of that 
+century, the Dutch began to encroach upon this monopoly, and 
+in a few years expelled them from their principal settlements in 
+India. During the greater part of the last century, those two na- 
+tions divided the most considerable part of the East India trade 
+between them; thetradeof the D utch continually augmenting in 
+a still greater proportion than that of the Portuguese declined. 
+The English and French carried on some trade with India in the 
+
+
+
+173 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+last century, but it has been greatly augmented in the course of the 
+present. The East India trade of the Swedes and Danes began in 
+the course of the present century. Even the M uscovites now trade 
+regularly with China, by a sort of caravans which go over land 
+through Siberia and Tartary to Pekin. The East India trade of all 
+these nations, if we except that of the French, which the last war 
+had well nigh annihilated, has been almost continually augment- 
+ing. The increasing consumptions of East India goods in Europe 
+is, it seems, so great, as to afford a gradual increase of employment 
+to them all. Tea, for example, was a drug very little used in Eu- 
+rope, before themiddleof thelast century. At present, thevalueof 
+thetea annually imported by theEnglish East India company, for 
+the use of their own countrymen, amountsto more than a million 
+and a half a year; and even this is not enough; a great deal more 
+being constantly smuggled into the country from the ports of 
+Holland, from Gottenburgh in Sweden, and from the coast of 
+France, too, as long as the French East India company was in 
+prosperity. The consumption of the porcelain of China, of the 
+spiceries of the M oluccas, of the piece goods of Bengal, and of 
+innumerable other articles, hasincreased very nearly in alikepro- 
+portion. The tonnage, accordingly, of all the European shipping 
+employed in the East India trade, at any one time during the last 
+century, was not, perhaps, much greater than that of the English 
+
+
+
+East India company before the late reduction of their shipping. 
+
+But in the East Indies, particularly in China and Indostan, the 
+value of the precious metals, when the Europeans first began to 
+trade to those countries, wasmuch higher than in Europe; and it 
+still continues to be so. In rice countries, which generally yield 
+two, sometimes three crops in theyear, each of them moreplenti- 
+ful than any common crop of corn, the abundance of food must 
+be much greater than in any corn country of equal extent. Such 
+countries are accordingly much more populous. In them, too, the 
+rich, having a greater superabundance of food to dispose of be- 
+yond what they themselves can consume, have the means of pur- 
+chasing a much greater quantity of the labour of other people. 
+The retinue of a grandee in China or Indostan accordingly is, by 
+all accounts, much more numerous and splendid than that of the 
+richest subjects in Europe. The same superabundance of food, of 
+which they have thedisposal, enables them to givea greater quan- 
+tity of it for all those singular and rare productions which nature 
+furnishes but in very small quantities; such as the precious metals 
+and the precious stones, the great objects of the competition of 
+the rich. Though the mines, therefore, which supplied the Indian 
+market, had been as abundant as those which supplied the Euro- 
+pean, such commodities would naturally exchange for a greater 
+quantity of food in India than in Europe. But the mines which 
+
+
+
+174 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+supplied the Indian marketwiththepreciousmetalsseemtohave 
+been a good deal less abundant, and those which supplied it with 
+the precious stones a good deal more so, than the mines which 
+supplied theEuropean.Thepreciousmetals, therefore, would natu- 
+rally exchange in India for a somewhat greater quantity of the 
+precious stones, and for a much greater quantity of food than in 
+Europe. The money price of diamonds, the greatest of all super- 
+fluities, would be somewhat lower, and that of food, thefirstof all 
+necessaries, a great deal lower in theonecountry than in theother. 
+But the real price of labour, the real quantity of the necessaries of 
+life which is given to the labourer, it has already been observed, is 
+lower both in C hina and I ndostan, thetwo great marketsof I ndia, 
+than it is through the greater part of Europe. The wages of the 
+labourer will there purchasea smaller quantity of food: and as the 
+money price of food is much lower in I ndia than in Europe, the 
+money priceof labour isthere lower upon a doubleaccount; upon 
+account both of thesmall quantity of food which it will purchase, 
+and of the low priceof that food. But in countries of equal art and 
+industry, the money priceof the greater part of manufactures will 
+be in proportion to the money price of labour; and in manufac- 
+turing art and industry, China and I ndostan, though inferior, seem 
+not to be much inferior to any part of Europe. The money price 
+of the greater part of manufactures, therefore, will naturally be 
+
+
+
+much lower in those great empires than it is anywhere in Europe. 
+Through the greater part of Europe, too, the expense of land- 
+carriage increases very much both the real and nominal price of 
+most manufactures. It costs more labour, and therefore more 
+money, to bring first the materials, and afterwards the complete 
+manufacture to market. In China and I ndostan, the extent and 
+variety of inland navigations save the greater part of this labour, 
+and consequently of this money, and thereby reduce still lower 
+both the real and the nominal price of the greater part of their 
+manufactures. Upon all these accounts, the precious metals are a 
+commodity which it always has been, and still continues to be, 
+extremely advantageous to carry from Europe to India. There is 
+scarceany commodity which brings a better pricethere; or which, 
+in proportion to thequantity of labour and commodities which it 
+costs in Europe, will purchase or command a greater quantity of 
+labour and commoditiesin India. It is more advantageous, too, to 
+carry silver thither than gold; because in China, and the greater 
+part of the other markets of India, the proportion between fine 
+silver and fine gold is but as ten, or at most as twelve to one; 
+whereasin Europeitisasfourteenorfifteentoone. In China, and 
+the greater part of the other markets of India, ten, or at most 
+twelve ounces of silver, will purchase an ounceof gold; in Europe, 
+it requires from fourteen to fifteen ounces. In the cargoes, there- 
+
+
+
+175 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+fore, of the greater part of European ships which sail to India, 
+silver has generally been one of the most valuable articles. Itisthe 
+most valuable article in theAcapuko ships which sail to Manilla. 
+The silver of the new continent seems, in this manner, to be one 
+of the principal commodities by which the commerce between 
+thetwoextremitiesoftheoldoneiscarriedon;and it is by means 
+of it, in a great measure, that those distant parts of the world are 
+connected with one another. 
+
+I n order to supply so very widely extended a market, the quan- 
+tity of silver annually brought from the mines must not only be 
+sufficient to support that continued increase, both of coin and of 
+plate, which isrequired in all thriving countries; but to repair that 
+continual waste and consumption of silver which takesplacein all 
+countries where that metal is used. 
+
+The continual consumption of the precious metals in coin by 
+wearing, and in plate both by wearing and cleaning, is very sen- 
+sible; and in commodities of which the use is so very widely ex- 
+tended, would alone require a very great annual supply. The con- 
+sumption of those metals in someparticular manufactures, though 
+it may not perhaps be greater upon the whole than this gradual 
+consumption, is, however, much moresensible, asitismuch more 
+rapid. In the manufactures of Birmingham alone, the quantity of 
+gold and silver annually employed in gilding and plating, and 
+
+
+
+thereby disqualified from ever afterwards appearing in the shape 
+of those metals, is said to amount to more than fifty thousand 
+poundssterling.Wemayfromthenceformsomenotion how great 
+must be the annual consumption in all the different parts of the 
+world, either in manufactures of thesame kind with those of Bir- 
+mingham, or in laces, embroideries, gold and silver stuffs, thegild- 
+ing of books, furniture, etc. A considerablequantity, too, must be 
+annually lost in transporting those metals from one place to an- 
+other both by sea and by land. In the greater part of the govern- 
+ments of Asia, besides, the almost universal custom of concealing 
+treasures in the bowels of the earth, of which the knowledge fre- 
+quently dies with the person who makes the concealment, must 
+occasion the loss of a still greater quantity. 
+
+The quantity of gold and silver imported at both Cadiz and 
+Lisbon (including not only what comes under register, but what 
+may be supposed to be smuggled) amounts, according to the best 
+accounts, to about six millions sterling a-year. 
+
+AccordingtoM rM eggens {Postscript to the Universal M erchant 
+p. 15 and 16.Thispostscriptwasnot printed till 1756, three years 
+after the publication of the book, which has never had a second 
+edition. The postscript is, therefore, to be found in few copies; it 
+corrects several errorsin thebook.}, theannual importation of the 
+precious metals into Spain, at an average of six years, viz. from 
+
+
+
+176 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+1748 to 1753, both inclusive, and into Portugal, at an average of 
+seven years, viz. from 1747 to 1753, both inclusive, amounted in 
+silver to 1,101,107 pounds weight, and in gold to 49,940 pounds 
+weight. The silver, at sixty two shillings the pound troy, amounts 
+to £ 3,413,431:10s. sterling. Thegold, at forty-four guineas and a 
+half the pound troy, amounts to £ 2,333,446:14s. sterling. Both 
+together amount to £ 5, 746,878:4s. sterling. Theaccount of what 
+was imported under register, he assures us, is exact. H e gives us 
+the detail of the particular places from which the gold and silver 
+were brought, and of the particular quantity of each metal, which, 
+according to the register, each of them afforded. H e makes an 
+allowance, too, for the quantity of each metal which, hesupposes, 
+may have been smuggled. The great experience of this judicious 
+merchant renders his opinion of considerable weight. 
+
+According to the eloquent, and sometimes well-informed, au- 
+thor of the Philosophical and Political H istory of the Establish- 
+ment of the Europeans in the two Indies, the annual importation 
+of registered gold and silver into Spain, at an average of eleven 
+years, viz. from 1754 to 1764, both inclusive, amounted to 
+13,984,185 3/5 piastres of ten reals. On account of what may 
+have been smuggled, however, the whole annual importation, he 
+supposes, may have amounted to seventeen millions of piastres, 
+which, at 4s. 6d. the piastre, is equal tof 3,825,000 sterling. He 
+
+
+
+gives the detail, too, of the particular places from which thegold 
+and silver were brought, and of the particular quantities of each 
+metal, which according to the register, each of them afforded. H e 
+informs us, too, that if we were to judge of the quantity of gold 
+annually imported from the Brazils to Lisbon, by the amount of 
+thetax paid to theking of Portugal, which it seems, is one-fifth of 
+the standard metal, we might value it at eighteen millions of 
+cruzadoes, or forty-five millions of French livres, equal to about 
+twenty millions sterling. On account of what may have been 
+smuggled, however, we may safely, he says, add to this sum an 
+eighth more, or £ 250,000 sterling, so that the whole will amount 
+to £ 2,250,000 sterling. According to this account, therefore, the 
+whole annual importation of the precious metals into both Spain 
+and Portugal, mounts to about £ 6,075,000 sterling. 
+
+Several other very well authenticated, though manuscript ac- 
+counts, I have been assured, agree in making this whole annual 
+importation amount, at an average, to about six millionssterling; 
+sometimes a little more, sometimes a little less. 
+
+T he annual importation of the precious metals into C adiz and 
+Lisbon, indeed, is not equal to the whole annual produce of the 
+mines of America. Some part is sent annually by the Acapulco 
+ships to M anilla; some part is employed in a contraband trade, 
+which theSpanish colonies carry on with thoseof other European 
+
+
+
+177 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+nations; and some part, no doubt, remains in the country. The 
+mines of America, besides, are by no means the only gold and 
+silver minesin theworld. They, are, however, by far the most abun- 
+dant. The produce of all the other mines which are known is in- 
+significant, it is acknowledged, in comparison with their's; and 
+thefar greater part of theirproduce, itislikewise acknowledged, is 
+annually imported into Cadiz and Lisbon. But the consumption 
+of Birmingham alone, at the rate of fifty thousand pounds a-year, 
+isequal tothehundred-and-twentieth part of this annual impor- 
+tation, at the rate of six millions a-year. The whole annual con- 
+sumption of gold and silver, therefore, in all the different coun- 
+tries of theworld where those metals are used, may, perhaps, be 
+nearly equal tothewholeannual produce. The remainder may be 
+no more than sufficient to supply the increasing demand of all 
+thriving countries. It may even have fallen so far short of this de- 
+mand, as somewhat to raise the priceof those metals in the Euro- 
+pean market. 
+
+Thequantity of brass and iron annually brought from the mine 
+to the market, is out of all proportion greater than that of gold 
+and silver. We do not, however, upon this account, imagine that 
+those coarse metals are likely to multiply beyond the demand, or 
+to become gradually cheaper and cheaper. W hy should we imag- 
+ine that the precious metals are likely to do so?T he coarse metals, 
+
+
+
+indeed, though harder, are put to much harder uses, and, as they 
+are of less value, less care is employed in their preservation. The 
+precious metals, however, are not necessarily immortal any more 
+than they, but areliable, too, to belost, wasted, and consumed, in 
+a great variety of ways. 
+
+The priceof all metals, though liableto slow and gradual varia- 
+tions, varies less from year to year than that of almost any other 
+part of the rude produce of land: and the price of the precious 
+m etal s i s even I ess I i ab I e to su d d en vari ati on s th an th at of th e coarse 
+ones. T he durableness of metals is the foundation of this extraor- 
+dinary steadiness of price. T hecorn which was brought to market 
+last year will be all, or almost all, consumed, long before the end 
+of this year. But some part of the iron which was brought from: 
+the mine two or three hundred years ago, may be still in use, and, 
+perhaps, some part of the gold which was brought from it two or 
+three thousand years ago. The different masses of corn, which, in 
+different years, must supply the consumption of the world, will 
+always be nearly in proportion to the respective produce of those 
+different years. But the proportion between the different masses 
+of iron which may be in use in two different years, will be very 
+little affected by any accidental difference in the produce of the 
+iron mines of those two years; and the proportion between the 
+masses of gold will be still less affected by any such difference in 
+
+
+
+178 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+the produce of the gold mines.Thoughtheproduceofthegreater 
+part of metallic mines, therefore, varies, perhaps, still more from 
+year to year than that of thegreater part of corn fields, those varia- 
+tions have not thesameeffect upon the price of theonespeciesof 
+commodities as upon that of the other. 
+
+Variations in the Proportion between the respective Values of 
+Gold and Silver. 
+
+Before the discovery of the mines of America, the value of fine 
+gold to finesilver was regulated in the different mines of Europe, 
+between the proportions of one to ten and one to twelve; that is, 
+an ounce of finegold was supposed to beworth from ten to twelve 
+ounces of fine silver. About the middleof the last century, it came 
+to be regulated, between the proportions of one to fourteen and 
+oneto fifteen; that is, an ounce of finegold came to be supposed 
+worth between fourteen and fifteen ounces of fine silver. Gold 
+rose in its nominal value, or in the quantity of silver which was 
+given for it. Both metalssunk in their real value, or in thequantity 
+of labour which they could purchase; but silver sunk more than 
+gold. Though both thegold and silver mines of America exceeded 
+in fertility all those which had ever been known before, thefertil- 
+ityof thesilver mineshad, it seems, been proportionally still greater 
+than that of the gold ones. 
+
+The great quantities of silver carried annually from Europe to 
+
+
+
+India, have, in someof the English settlements, gradually reduced 
+the value of that metal in proportion to gold. In the mint of 
+Calcutta, an ounce of fine gold is supposed to be worth fifteen 
+ounces of fine silver, in thesame manner asin Europe. Itisin the 
+mint, perhaps, rated too high for the value which it bears in the 
+market of Bengal. In China, the proportion of gold to silver still 
+continues as oneto ten, or oneto twelve. I n Japan, itissaid to be 
+as one to eight. 
+
+The proportion between thequantitiesofgold and silver annu- 
+ally imported into Europe, according to M r M eggens" account, is 
+as one to twenty-two nearly; that is, for one ounce of gold there 
+are imported a little more than twenty-two ounces of silver. The 
+great quantity of silver sent annually to the East I ndies reduces, he 
+supposes, the quantities of those metals which remain in Europe 
+to the proportion of one to fourteen or fifteen, the proportion of 
+their values. The proportion between their values, he seems to 
+think, must necessarily be the same as that between their quanti- 
+ties, and would therefore be as one to twenty-two, were it not for 
+this greater exportation of silver. 
+
+But the ordinary proportion between the respective values of 
+two commodities is not necessarily the same as that between the 
+quantities of them which arecommonlyin the market. The price 
+of an ox, reckoned at ten guineas, is about three score times the 
+
+
+
+179 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+price of a lamb, reckoned at 3s. 6d. It would be absurd, however, 
+to infer from thence, that there arecommonly in the market three 
+score lambs for one ox; and it would be just as absurd to infer, 
+because an ounce of gold will commonly purchase from fourteen 
+or fifteen ounces of silver, that there are commonly in the market 
+only fourteen or fifteen ounces of silver for one ounce of gold. 
+
+T he quantity of silver commonly in the market, it is probable, 
+is much greater in proportion to that of gold, than the value of a 
+certain quantity of gold is to that of an equal quantity of silver. 
+T he whole quantity of a cheap commodity brought to market is 
+commonly not only greater, but of greater value, than the whole 
+quantity of a dear one. The whole quantity of bread annually 
+brought to market, is not only greater, but of greater value, than 
+the whole quantity of butcher's meat; the whole quantity of 
+butcher's meat, than thewholequantity of poultry; and the whole 
+quantity of poultry, than the whole quantity of wild fowl. There 
+are so many more purchasers for the cheap than for the dear com- 
+modity, that, not only a greater quantity of it, but a greater value 
+can commonly be disposed of. The whole quantity, therefore, of 
+the cheap commodity, must commonly be greater in proportion 
+to the whole quantity of the dear one, than the value of a certain 
+quantity of the dear one, istothevalueof an equal quantity of the 
+cheap one. W hen we compare the precious metals with one an- 
+
+
+
+other, silver is a cheap, and gold a dear commodity. We ought 
+naturally to expect, therefore, that there should always be in the 
+market, not only a greater quantity, but a greater value of silver 
+than of gold. Let any man, who has a little of both, compare his 
+own silver with hisgold plate, and he will probably find, that not 
+onlythequantity, butthevalueof theformer, greatly exceedsthat 
+of the latter. M any people, besides, have a good deal of silver who 
+have no gold plate, which, even with those who have it, is gener- 
+ally confined to watch-cases, snuff-boxes, and such like trinkets, 
+of which thewholeamount isseldom of great value. In the British 
+coin, indeed, the value of the gold preponderates greatly, but it is 
+not so in that of all countries In the coin of some countries, the 
+value of the two metals is nearly equal. In theScotch coin, before 
+theunion with England, thegold preponderated very little, though 
+it did somewhat {See Ruddiman's Preface to Anderson's D iplomata, 
+etc. Scotiae.}, as it appears by the accounts of the mint. In thecoin 
+of many countries the silver preponderates. In France, thelargest 
+sums are commonly paid in that metal, and it isthere difficult to 
+get more gold than what is necessary to carry about in your pocket. 
+T he superior value, however, of the silver plate above that of the 
+gold, which takes placein all countries, will much more than com- 
+pensate thepreponderancy of thegold coin above the silver, which 
+takes place only in some countries. 
+
+
+
+180 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+Though, in one sense of the word, silver always has been, and 
+probably always will be, much cheaper than gold; yet, in another 
+sense, gold may perhaps, in the present state of the Spanish mar- 
+ket, be said to be somewhat cheaper than silver. A commodity 
+may be said to bedear or cheap not only according to theabsolute 
+greatness or smallness of itsusual price, but according as that price 
+is more or less above the lowest for which it is possible to bring it 
+to market for any considerable time together. This lowest price is 
+that which barely replaces, with a moderateprofit,thestock which 
+must be employed in bringing the commodity thither. It is the 
+price which affords nothing to the landlord, of which rent makes 
+not any component part, but which resolves itself altogether into 
+wages and profit. But, in the present state of the Spanish market, 
+gold is certainly somewhat nearer to this lowest price than silver. 
+Thetaxof the king of Spain upon gold isonly one-twentieth part 
+of thestandard metal, or five per cent.; whereas histax upon silver 
+amounts to one-tenth part of it, or to ten percent. In these taxes, 
+too, it has already been observed, consists the whole rent of the 
+greater part of the gold and silver mines of Spanish America; and 
+that upon gold isstill worse paid than that upon silver. The profits 
+of the undertakers of gold mines, too, as they more rarely make a 
+fortune, must, in general, be still more moderate than those of the 
+undertakers of silver mines. The price of Spanish gold, therefore, 
+
+
+
+as it affords both less rent and less profit, must, in the Spanish 
+market, be somewhat nearer to the lowest price for which it is 
+possible to bring it thither, than the price of Spanish silver. W hen 
+all expenses are computed, thewholequantityof theonemetal, it 
+would seem, cannot, in the Spanish market, be disposed of so 
+advantageously as the whole quantity of the other. T he tax, in- 
+deed, of the king of Portugal upon the gold of the Brazils, is the 
+same with theancient tax of theking of Spain upon the silver of 
+Mexico and Peru; or one-fifth part of thestandard metal. It may 
+therefore be uncertain, whether, to the general market of Europe, 
+the whole mass of American gold comes at a price nearer to the 
+lowest for which it is possible to bring it thither, than the whole 
+mass of American silver. 
+
+The price of diamonds and other precious stones may, perhaps, 
+be still nearer to the lowest price at which it is possible to bring 
+them to market, than even the price of gold. 
+
+T hough it is not very probable that any part of a tax, which is 
+not only imposed upon one of the most proper subjects of taxa- 
+tion, a mereluxury and superfluity, but which affords so very im- 
+portant a revenue as the tax upon silver, will ever be given up as 
+long as it is possibleto pay it; yet thesame impossibility of paying 
+it, which, in 1736. madeit necessary to reduceit from one-fifth to 
+one-tenth, may in time make it necessary to reduce it still further; 
+
+
+
+181 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+in thesamemanner asit madeit necessary to reduce thetax upon 
+gold to one-twentieth. That the silver mines of Spanish America, 
+likeall othermines, becomegradually more expen si vein thework- 
+ing, on account of the greater depths at which it is necessary to 
+carry on the works, and of the greater expense of drawing out the 
+water, and of supplying them with fresh air at those depths, is 
+acknowledged by everybody who has inquired into the state of 
+those mines. 
+
+These causes, which are equivalent to a growing scarcity of sil- 
+ver (for a commodity may be said to grow scarcer when it be- 
+comes morediffi cult and expen si veto collect a certain quantity of 
+it), must, in time, produce one or other of the three following 
+events: T he increase of the expense must either, first, be compen- 
+sated altogether by a proportionable increase in the price of the 
+metal; or, secondly, it must be compensated altogether by a pro- 
+portionablediminution of the tax upon silver; or, thirdly, it must 
+be compensated partly by the one and partly by the other of those 
+two expedients. This third event is very possible. As gold rose in 
+its price in proportion to silver, notwithstanding a great diminu- 
+tion of the tax upon gold, so silver might rise in its price in pro- 
+portion to labour and commodities, notwithstanding an equal 
+diminution of thetax upon silver. 
+
+Such successive reductionsof thetax, however, though they may 
+
+
+
+not prevent altogether, must certainly retard, more or less, the rise 
+of the value of silver in the European market. In consequence of 
+such reductions, many minesmay be wrought which could not be 
+wrought before, because they could not afford to pay the old tax; 
+and the quantity of silver annually brought to market, must al- 
+ways be somewhat greater, and, therefore, the value of any given 
+quantity somewhat less, than it otherwise would have been. In 
+consequence of the reduction in 1736, the value of silver in the 
+European market, though it may not at this day be lower than 
+before that reduction, is, probably, at least ten per cent, lower 
+than it would have been, had the court of Spain continued to 
+exact the old tax. 
+
+That, notwithstanding this reduction, the value of silver has, 
+during the course of the present century, begun to rise somewhat 
+in the European market, thefactsand arguments which have been 
+alleged above, dispose me to believe, or more properly to suspect 
+and conjecture; for the best opinion which I can form upon this 
+subject, scarce, perhaps, deserves the name of belief. The rise, in- 
+deed, supposing therehas been any, hashitherto been so very small, 
+that after all that has been said, it may, perhaps, appear to many 
+people uncertain, not only whether this event has actually taken 
+place, but whether the contrary may not have taken place, or 
+whether the value of silver may not still continue to fall in the 
+
+
+
+182 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+European market. 
+
+It must be observed, however, that whatever may be the sup- 
+posed annual importation of gold and silver, there must be a cer- 
+tain period at which the annual consumption of those metal swill 
+be equal to that annual importation. Their consumption must 
+increase as their mass increases, or rather in a much greater pro- 
+portion. As their mass increases, their value diminishes. They are 
+moreused, and less cared for, and their consumption consequently 
+increases in a greater proportion than their mass. After a certain 
+period, therefore, the annual consumption of those metals must, 
+in this manner, become equal to their annual importation, pro- 
+vided that importation is not continually increasing; which, in 
+the present times, is not supposed to be the case. 
+
+If, when the annual consumption has become equal to the an- 
+nual importation, the annual importation should gradually di- 
+minish, the annual consumption may, for sometime, exceed the 
+annual importation. T he mass of those metals may gradually and 
+insensibly diminish, and their value gradually and insensibly rise, 
+till theannual importation becoming again stationary, theannual 
+consumption will gradually and insensibly accommodate itself to 
+what that annual importation can maintain. 
+
+Grounds of the suspicion that theValueof Silver still continues 
+to decrease. 
+
+
+
+The increase of the wealth of Europe, and the popular notion, 
+that as thequantity of thepreciousmetalsnaturally increases with 
+the increase of wealth, so their value diminishes as their quantity 
+increases, may, perhaps, dispose many peopleto believe that their 
+value still continues to fall in the European market; and the still 
+gradually increasing price of many parts of the rude produce of 
+land may confirm them still farther in this opinion. 
+
+That that increasein thequanti ty of the precious metals, which 
+arisesin any country from theincrease of wealth, hasno tendency 
+to diminish their value, I have endeavoured to shew already. Gold 
+and silver naturally resort to a rich country, for the same reason 
+that all sorts of luxuries and curiosities resort to it; not because 
+they are cheaper there than in poorer countries, but because they 
+are dearer, or because a better price is given for them. It is the 
+superiority of price which attracts them; and as soon as that supe- 
+riority ceases, they necessarily cease to go thither. 
+
+I f you except corn, and such other vegetables as are raised alto- 
+gether by human industry, that all other sorts of rude produce, 
+cattle, poultry, gameof all kinds, the useful fossilsand mineralsof 
+the earth, etc. naturally grow dearer, as the society advances in 
+wealth and improvement, I have endeavoured to shew already. 
+Though such commodities, therefore, come to exchange for a 
+greater quantity of silver than before, it will not from thence fol- 
+
+
+
+183 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+low that silver has become really cheaper, or will purchase less 
+labour than before; but that such commodities have become re- 
+ally dearer, or will purchase more labour than before. It is not 
+their nominal price only, but their real price, which rises in the 
+progress of improvement. The rise of their nominal price is the 
+effect, not of any degradation of the valueof silver, but of therise 
+in their real price. 
+
+Different Effects of the Progress of Improvement upon three 
+different sorts of rude Produce. 
+
+These different sorts of rude produce may be divided into three 
+classes. Thefirstcomprehendsthose which it isscarcein thepower 
+of human industry to multiply at all. The second, those which it 
+can multiply in proportion to the demand. The third, those in 
+which theefficacyof industry is either limited or uncertain. In the 
+progress of wealth and improvement, the real price of the first 
+may rise to any degree of extravagance, and seems not to be lim- 
+ited by any certain boundary. That of the second, though it may 
+rise greatly, has, however, a certain boundary, beyond which it 
+cannot well pass for any considerable time together. That of the 
+third, though itsnatural tendencyisto risein the progress of im- 
+provement, yet in the same degree of improvement it may some- 
+times happen even to fall, sometimes to continue the same, and 
+sometimes to rise more or less, according as different accidents 
+
+
+
+render the efforts of human industry, in multiplying this sort of 
+rude produce, more or less successful. 
+
+First Sort. — Thefirst sort of rude produce, of which the price 
+rises in the progress of improvement, is that which it is scarce in 
+thepower of human industry to multiply at all. It consistsin those 
+things which nature produces only in certain quantities, and which 
+being of a very perishable nature, it is impossible to accumulate 
+together theproduceof many different seasons. Such arethegreater 
+part of rare and singular birds and fishes, many different sorts of 
+game, almost all wild-fowl, all birds of passage in particular, as 
+well as many other things. When wealth, and the luxury which 
+accompanies it, increase, thedemand for theseislikely to increase 
+with them, and no effort of human industry may be able to in- 
+crease the supply much beyond what it was before this increase of 
+thedemand. Thequantity of such commodities, therefore, remain- 
+ing the same, or nearly the same, while the competition to pur- 
+chase them is continually increasing, their price may rise to any 
+degreeof extravagance, and seems not to be limited by any certain 
+boundary. If woodcocks should become so fashionable as to sell 
+for twenty guineas a-piece, no effort of human industry could 
+increase the number of those brought to market, much beyond 
+what it is at present. The high price paid by the Romans, in the 
+time of their greatest grandeur, for rare birds and fishes, may in 
+
+
+
+184 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+this manner easily be accounted for. These prices were not the 
+effects of the low value of silver in those times, but of the high 
+value of such rarities and curiosities as human industry could not 
+multiply at pleasure. The real value of silver was higher at Rome, 
+for sometime before, and after the fall of the republic, than it is 
+through thegreater part of Europe at present. T hree sestertii equal 
+to about sixpence sterling, was the price which the republic paid 
+for the modius or peck of the tithe wheat of Sicily. This price, 
+however, wasprobably below the average market price, theobliga- 
+tion to deliver their wheat at this rate being considered as a tax 
+upon the Sicilian farmers. When the Romans, therefore, had oc- 
+casion to order more corn than the tithe of wheat amounted to, 
+they were bound by capitulation to pay for the surplus at the rate 
+of four sestertii, or eightpencesterling the peck; and thishad prob- 
+ably been reckoned the moderate and reasonable, that is, theordi- 
+nary or average contract price of those times; it is equal to about 
+one-and-twenty shillings the quarter. Eight-and-twenty shillings 
+the quarter was, before thelate years of scarcity, the ordinary con- 
+tract price of English wheat, which in quality is inferior to the 
+Sicilian, and generally sellsfor a lower price in the European mar- 
+ket. The value of silver, therefore, in those ancient times, must 
+have been to itsvaluein thepresent, as three to four inversely; that 
+is, threeouncesof silver would then havepurchased thesamequan- 
+
+
+
+tity of labour and commodities which four ounces will do at 
+present. When we read in Pliny, therefore, that Seius {Lib. X, c. 
+29.} bought a white nightingale, as a present for the empress 
+Agrippina, at the price of six thousand sestertii, equal to about 
+fifty pounds of our present money; and that Asinius Celer -{Lib. 
+IX, c. 17.} purchased a surmullet at the price of eight thousand 
+sestertii, equal to about sixty-six pounds thirteen shillings and 
+fourpenceof our present money; the extravagance of those prices, 
+how much soever it may surprise us, is apt, notwithstanding, to 
+appear to us about one third less than it really was. Their real 
+price, thequantity of labour and subsistencewhich was given away 
+for them, was about one-third more than their nominal price is 
+apt to express to us in the present times. Seiusgavefor thenight- 
+ingalethecommand of a quantity of labour and subsistence, equal 
+to what £ 66:13: 4d. would purchase in the present times; and 
+Asinius Celer gave for a surmullet the command of a quantity 
+equal to what £ 88:17: 9d. would purchase. W hat occasioned the 
+extravagance of those high priceswas, not so much the abundance 
+of silver, as the abundance of labour and subsistence, of which 
+those Romans had the disposal, beyond what was necessary for 
+their own use. Thequantity of silver, of which they had the dis- 
+posal, was a good deal less than what the command of the same 
+quantity of labour and subsistence would have procured to them 
+
+
+
+185 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+in the present times. 
+
+Second sort. —The second sort of rude produce, of which the 
+price rises in the progress of improvement, is that which human 
+industry can multiply in proportion tothedemand. It consists in 
+thoseuseful plants and animals, which, in uncultivated countries, 
+nature produces with such profuse abundance, that they are of 
+littleor no value, and which, ascultivation advances, are therefore 
+forced to give place to some more profitable produce. D uring a 
+long period in the progress of improvement, the quantity of these 
+is continually diminishing, while, at the same time, the demand 
+for them iscontinually increasing. Their real value, therefore, the 
+real quantity of labour which they will purchase or command, 
+gradually rises, till at last it gets so high as to render them asprof- 
+itablea produce as any thing elsewhich human industry can raise 
+uponthemostfertileand best cultivated land. When it has got so 
+high, it cannot well go higher. If it did, more land and more in- 
+dustry would soon be employed to increase their quantity. 
+
+When the price of cattle, for example, rises so high, that it is as 
+profitable to cultivate land in order to raise food for them as in 
+order to raise food for man, it cannot well go higher. If it did, 
+morecorn land would soon be turned into pasture. T heextension 
+of tillage, by diminishing thequantity of wild pasture, diminishes 
+
+
+
+the quantity of butcher's meat, which the country naturally pro- 
+duces without labour or cultivation; and, by increasing the num- 
+ber of those who have either corn, or, what comes to the same 
+thing, the price of corn, to give in exchange for it, increases the 
+demand. Thepriceofbutcher'smeat, therefore, and, consequently, 
+of cattle, must gradually rise, till it gets so high, that it becomes as 
+profitable to employ the most fertile and best cultivated lands in 
+raisingfood forthem asin raising corn. But it must always be late 
+in the progress of improvement before tillage can be so far ex- 
+tended as to raise the price of cattle to this height; and, till it has 
+got to this height, if the country is advancing at all, their price 
+must be continually rising. There are, perhaps, some parts of Eu- 
+rope in which the price of cattle has not yet got to this height. It 
+had notgotto thisheight in anypart of Scotland before theUnion. 
+H ad theScotch cattlebeen always confined to the market of Scot- 
+land, in a country in which thequantity of land, which can be 
+applied to no other purposebut thefeeding of cattle, isso great in 
+proportion to what can be applied to other purposes, it is scarce 
+possible, perhaps, that their price could ever have risen so high as 
+to render it profitable to cultivate land for the sake of feeding 
+them. In England, the price of cattle, it has already been observed, 
+seems, in the neighbourhood of London, to have gotto thisheight 
+about the beginning of the last century; but it was much later, 
+
+
+
+186 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+probably, before it got through the greater part of the remoter 
+counties, in someof which, perhaps, itmayscarceyethavegotto 
+it. Of all the different substances, however, which compose this 
+second sort of rude produce, cattle is, perhaps, that of which the 
+price, in the progress of improvement, rises first to this height. 
+
+Till the price of cattle, indeed, has got to this height, it seems 
+scarce possible that the greater part, even of those lands which are 
+capable of the highest cultivation, can be completely cultivated. 
+In all farms too distant from any town to carry manure from it, 
+that is, in the far greater part of those of every extensive country, 
+the quantity of well cultivated land must be in proportion to the 
+quantity of manure which thefarm itself produces; and this, again, 
+mustbein proportion to thestock of cattlewhich are maintained 
+upon it. T he land is manured, either by pasturing the cattle upon 
+it, or by feeding them in thestable, and from thence carrying out 
+their dung to it. But unless the price of the cattle be sufficient to 
+pay both the rent and profit of cultivated land, thefarmer cannot 
+afford to pasture them upon it; and hecan still less afford to feed 
+them in thestable. It iswith the produce of improved and culti- 
+vated land only that cattle can be fed in the stable; because, to 
+collect thescanty and scattered produceof waste and unimproved 
+lands, would require too much labour, and be too expensive. It 
+the price of the cattle, therefore, is not sufficient to pay for the 
+
+
+
+produceof improved and cultivated land, when they are allowed 
+to pasture it, that price will be still less sufficient to pay for that 
+produce, when it must be collected with a good deal of additional 
+labour, and brought into thestableto them. I n these circumstances, 
+therefore, no more cattle can with profit be fed in the stable than 
+what are necessary for tillage. But these can never afford manure 
+enough for keeping constantly in good condition all the lands 
+which they are capable of cultivating. What they afford, being 
+insufficient for the whole farm, will naturally be reserved for the 
+landsto which it can be most advantageously or conveniently ap- 
+plied; the most fertile, or those, perhaps, in the neighbourhood of 
+the farm-yard. These, therefore, will be kept constantly in good 
+condition, and f i t for ti 1 1 age. The rest will, the greater part of them, 
+be allowed to liewaste, producing scarce any thing but somemis- 
+erable pasture, just sufficient to keep alive a few straggling, half- 
+starved cattle; thefarm, though much overstocked in proportion 
+to what would be necessary for its complete cultivation, being 
+very frequently overstocked in proportion to its actual produce. A 
+portion of this waste land, however, after having been pastured in 
+this wretched manner for six or seven years together, may be 
+ploughed up, when it will yield, perhaps, a poor crop or two of 
+bad oats, or of some other coarse grain; and then, being entirely 
+exhausted, it must be rested and pastured again as before, and 
+
+
+
+187 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+another portion ploughed up, to beinthesamemanner exhausted 
+and rested again in its turn. Such, accordingly, was the general 
+system of management all over the low country of Scotland before 
+the Union. The lands which were kept constantly well manured 
+and in good condition seldom exceeded a third or fourth part of 
+the whole farm, and sometimes did not amount to a fifth or a 
+sixth part of it. T he rest were never manured, but a certain por- 
+tion of them wasin its turn, notwithstanding, regularly cultivated 
+and exhausted. U nder this system of management, it is evident, 
+even that part of the lands of Scotland which is capable of good 
+cultivation, could produce but little in comparison of what it may 
+becapableof producing. But how disadvantageoussoeverthissys- 
+tem may appear, yet, before the Union, the low price of cattle 
+seems to have rendered it almost unavoidable. If, notwithstanding 
+a great rise in the price, it still continues to prevail through a con- 
+siderablepart of thecountry, it isowing in many places, no doubt, 
+to ignorance and attachment to old customs, but, in most places, 
+to theunavoidableobstructionswhichthenaturalcourseof things 
+opposes to theimmediateor speedy establishment of a better sys- 
+tem: first, to the poverty of the tenants, to their not having yet 
+had time to acquire a stock of cattle sufficient to cultivate their 
+landsmore completely, thesameriseof price, which would render 
+it advantageousfor them to maintain a greater stock, rendering it 
+
+
+
+more difficult for them to acquire it; and, secondly, to their not 
+having yet had time to put their lands in condition to maintain 
+this greater stock properly, supposing they were capableof acquir- 
+ing it. The increase of stock and the improvement of land are two 
+events which must go hand in hand, and of which the one can 
+nowhere much outrun the other. W ithout some i ncrease of stock, 
+there can be scarce any improvement of land, but there can beno 
+considerable increase of stock, but in consequence of a consider- 
+able improvement of land; because otherwise the land could not 
+maintain it. These natural obstructions to the establishment of a 
+better system, cannot be removed but by a long course of frugality 
+and industry; and half a century or a century more, perhaps, must 
+pass away before the old system, which is wearing out gradually, 
+can be completely abolished through all the different parts of the 
+country. Of all the commercial advantages, however, which Scot- 
+land has derived from the Union with England, this rise in the 
+price of cattle is, perhaps, the greatest. It has not only raised the 
+value of all highland estates, but it has, perhaps, been the princi- 
+pal cause of the improvement of the low country. 
+
+In all new colonies, the great quantity of wasteland, which can 
+for many years be applied to no other purpose but the feeding of 
+cattle, soon renders them extremely abundant; and in everything 
+great cheapness isthe necessary consequence of great abundance. 
+
+
+
+188 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+Though all the cattle of the European colonies in America were 
+originally carried from Europe, they soon multiplied so much there, 
+and becameof so little value, that even horses were allowed to run 
+wild in the woods, without any owner thinking it worth whileto 
+claim them. It must be a long time after the first establishment of 
+such colonies, before it can become profitableto feed cattle upon 
+the produce of cultivated land. The same causes, therefore, the 
+want of manure, and the disproportion between the stock em- 
+ployed in cultivation and the land which it isdestined to cultivate, 
+are likely to introduce there a system of husbandry, not unlike 
+that which still continues to take place in so many parts of Scot- 
+land. M rK aim, the Swedish traveller, when hegives an account of 
+the husbandry of some of the English colonies in N orth America, 
+as he found it in 1749, observes, accordingly, that he can with 
+difficulty discover there the character of the English nation, so 
+well skilled in all the different branches of agriculture. They make 
+scarce any manure for their corn fields, he says; but when one 
+piece of ground has been exhausted by continual cropping, they 
+clear and cultivate another piece of fresh land; and when that is 
+exhausted, proceed to a third. Their cattle are allowed to wander 
+through the woods and other uncultivated grounds, where they 
+are half -starved; having long ago extirpated almost all the annual 
+grasses, by cropping them too early in the spring, before they had 
+
+
+
+time to form their flowers, or to shed their seeds. {Kalm'sTravels, 
+vol 1, pp. 343, 344.}T he annual grasses were, it seems, the best 
+natural grasses in that part of N orth America; and when the Euro- 
+peans first settled there, they used to grow very thick, and to rise 
+three or four feet high. A piece of ground which, when he wrote, 
+could not maintain one cow, would in former times, he was as- 
+sured, havemaintained four, each of which would have given four 
+times the quantity of milk which that one was capable of giving. 
+The poorness of the pasture had, in his opinion, occasioned the 
+degradation of their cattle, which degenerated sensibly from me 
+generation to another. T hey were probably not unlikethat stunted 
+breed which was common all over Scotland thirty or forty years 
+ago, and which is now so much mended through the greater part 
+of the low country, not so much by a change of the breed, though 
+that expedient has been employed in some places, as by a more 
+plentiful method of feeding them. 
+
+Though it is late, therefore, in the progress of improvement, be- 
+fore cattle can bring such a price as to render it profitableto culti- 
+vate land for the sake of feeding them; yet of all the different parts 
+which compose this second sort of rude produce, they are perhaps 
+the first which bring this price; because, till they bring it, it seems 
+impossiblethat improvement can be brought near even to that de- 
+gree of perfection to which it has arrived in many parts of Europe. 
+
+
+
+189 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+As cattle are among the first, so perhaps venison is among the 
+last parts of this sort of rude produce which bring this price. The 
+price of venison in Great Britain, how extravagant soever it may 
+appear, is not near sufficient to compensate the expense of a deer 
+park, as is well known to all those who have had anyexperiencein 
+thefeeding of deer. If it was otherwise, thefeeding of deer would 
+soon become an article of common farming, in the same manner 
+as the feeding of those small birds, called turdi, was among the 
+ancient Romans. Varro and Columella assure us, that it wasa most 
+profitableartide. Thefattening of ortolans, birdsof passage which 
+arrive lean in the country, is said to be so in some parts of France. 
+If venison continuesin fashion, and thewealth and luxury of Great 
+Britain increase as they have done for some time past, its price 
+may very probably rise still higher than it is at present. 
+
+Between that period in the progress of improvement, which 
+brings to its height the price of so necessary an article as cattle, 
+and that which brings to itthepriceof such a superfluity as veni- 
+son, there is a very long interval, in the course of which many 
+other sorts of rude produce gradually arrive at their highest price, 
+somesooner and somelater, accordingto different circumstances. 
+
+Thus, in every farm, the offals of the barn and stablewill main- 
+tain a certain number of poultry. These, as they are fed with what 
+would otherwise be lost, are a mere save-all; and as they cost the 
+
+
+
+farmer scarce any thing, so he can afford to sdl them for very 
+little. Almost all that hegets is pure gain, and thar price can scarce 
+be so low as to discourage him from feeding this number. But in 
+countries ill cultivated, and therefore but thinly inhabited, the 
+poultry, which are thus raised without expense, are often fully 
+sufficient to supply the whole demand. In this state of things, 
+therefore, they are often as cheap as butcher's meat, or any other 
+sort of animal food. But the whole quantity of poultry which the 
+farm in this manner produces without expense, must always be 
+much smaller than the whole quantity of butcher's meat which is 
+reared upon it; and in times of wealth and luxury, what is rare, 
+with only nearly equal merit, is always preferred to what is com- 
+mon. As wealth and luxury increase, therefore, in consequenceof 
+improvement and cultivation, the price of poultry gradually rises 
+above that of butcher's meat, till at last it gets so high, that it 
+becomes profitable to cultivate land for the sake of feedi ng them. 
+W hen it has got to this haght, it cannot wdl go higher. I f it did, 
+more land would soon be turned to this purpose. In several prov- 
+inces of France, thefeeding of poultry isconsidered asa very im- 
+portant artidein rural economy, and sufficiently profitableto en- 
+courage thefarmer to raiseaconsiderablequantity of Indian corn 
+and buckwheat for this purpose. A middling farmer will there 
+sometimes have four hundred fowls in his yard. Thefeeding of 
+
+
+
+190 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+poultry seems scarce yet to be generally considered as a matter of 
+so much importancein England. They arecertainly, however, dearer 
+in England than in France, as England receives considerable sup- 
+plies from France. In the progress of improvements, theperiod at 
+which every particular sort of animal food is dearest, must natu- 
+rally be that which immediately precedes the general practice of 
+cultivating land for the sake of raising it. For some time before 
+this practice becomes general, the scarcity must necessarily raise 
+the price. After it has become general, new methods of feeding are 
+commonly fallen upon, which enablethefarmer to raiseupon the 
+same quantity of ground a much greater quantity of that particu- 
+lar sort of animal food. The plenty not only obliges him to sell 
+cheaper, but, in consequence of these improvements, he can af- 
+ford to sell cheaper; for if he could not afford it, the plenty would 
+not be of long continuance. It has been probably in this manner 
+that the introduction of clover, turnips, carrots, cabbages, etc. has 
+contributed to sink the common price of butcher's meat in the 
+London market, somewhat below what it was about the begin- 
+ning of the last century. 
+
+The hog, that finds his food among ordure, and greedily de- 
+vours many things rejected by every other useful animal, is, like 
+poultry, originally kept as a save-all. As long as the number of 
+such animals, which can thus be reared at little or no expense, is 
+
+
+
+fully sufficient to supply the demand, this sort of butcher's meat 
+comes to market at a much lower price than any other. But when 
+the demand rises beyond what this quantity can supply, when it 
+becomes necessary to raise food on purpose for feeding and fat- 
+tening hogs, in the same manner as for feeding and fattening other 
+cattle, the price necessarily rises, and becomes proportionably ei- 
+ther higher or lower than that of other butcher's meat, according 
+as the nature of the country, and the state of its agriculture, hap- 
+pen to render thefeeding of hogs more or less expensive than that 
+of other cattle. In France, according to M r Buffon, the price of 
+pork is nearly equal to that of beef. I n most parts of G reat Britain 
+it is at present somewhat higher. 
+
+The great rise in the price both of hogs and poultry, has, in 
+Great Britain, been frequently imputed to the diminution of the 
+number of cottagers and other small occupiers of land; an event 
+which hasin every part of Europebeen theimmediateforerunner 
+of improvement and better cultivation, but which at the same 
+timemay have contributed to raise theprice of those articles, both 
+somewhat sooner and somewhat faster than it would otherwise 
+have risen. As the poo rest family can often maintain a cat or a dog 
+without any expense, so the poorest occupiers of land can com- 
+monly maintain a few poultry, or a sow and a few pigs, at very 
+little. The little offals of their own table, their whey, skimmed 
+
+
+
+191 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+milk, and butter milk, supply those animals with a part of their 
+food, and they find the rest in the neighbouring fields, without 
+doing any sensible damage to any body. By diminishing the num- 
+ber of those small occupiers, therefore, the quantity of this sort of 
+provisions, which is thus produced at little or no expense, must 
+certainly have been a good deal diminished, and their price must 
+consequently have been raised both sooner and faster than it would 
+otherwise have risen. Sooner or later, however, in the progress of 
+improvement, it must at any rate have risen to the utmost height 
+to which it is capable of rising; or to the price which pays the 
+labour and expense of cultivating the land which furnishes them 
+with food, as well as these are paid upon the greater part of other 
+cultivated land. 
+
+The business of the dairy, likethefeedingof hogs and poultry, 
+is originally carried on as a save-all. The cattle necessarily kept 
+upon thefarm produce more milk than either the rearing of their 
+own young, or the consumption of the farmer's family requires; 
+and they produce most at one particular season. But of all the 
+productions of land, milk is perhaps the most perishable. In the 
+warm season, when it is most abundant, it will scarce keep four- 
+and-twenty hours. Thefarmer, by making it into fresh butter, stores 
+a small part of it for a week; by making it into salt butter, for a 
+year; and by making it into cheese, he stores a much greater part 
+
+
+
+of it for several years. Part of all these is reserved for the use of his 
+own family; the rest goes to market, in order to find the best price 
+which isto be had, and which can scarce be so low isto discourage 
+him from sending thither whatever isover and abovetheuseof his 
+own family. If it is very low indeed, he will be likely to manage his 
+dairy in a very slovenly and dirty manner, and will scarce, per- 
+haps, think it worth while to have a particular room or building 
+on purpose for it, but will suffer the business to be carried on 
+amidst the smoke, filth, and nastinessof his own kitchen, as was 
+the case of almost all the farmers' dairies in Scotland thirty or 
+forty years ago, and as is the case of many of them still. T he same 
+causes which gradually raise the price of butcher's meat, the in- 
+creaseof thedemand, and, in consequenceof the improvement of 
+the country, the diminution of the quantity which can be fed at 
+littleor no expense, raise, in thesamemanner, that of the produce 
+of the dairy, of which the price naturally connects with that of 
+butcher's meat, or with theexpenseof feeding cattle. The increase 
+of price pays for more labour, care, and cleanliness. The dairy 
+becomes more worthy of thefarmer's attention, and thequality of 
+its producegradually improves. Theprice at last gets so high, that 
+it becomes worth while to employ some of the most fertile and 
+best cultivated lands in feeding cattle merely for the purpose of 
+the dairy; and when it has got to this height, it cannot well go 
+
+
+
+192 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+higher. If it did, moreland would soon be turned to thispurpose. 
+It seems to have got to this height through the greater part of 
+England, where much good land is commonly employed in this 
+manner. If you except the neighbourhood of a few considerable 
+towns, it seems not yet to have got to this height anywhere in 
+Scotland, wherecommon farmers seldom employ much good land 
+in raising food for cattle, merely for the purpose of the dairy. T he 
+priceof the produce, though it has risen very considerably within 
+these few years, is probably still too low to admit of it. The inferi- 
+ority of the quality, indeed, compared with that of the produce of 
+English dairies, isfully equal to that of theprice. But this inferior- 
+ity of quality is, perhaps, rather the effect of this lowness of price, 
+than the cause of it. Though the quality was much better, the 
+greater part of what is brought to market could not, I apprehend, 
+in the present circumstances of the country, be disposed of at a 
+much better price; and the present price, it isprobable, would not 
+pay the expense of the land and labour necessary for producing a 
+much better quality. Through the greater part of England, not- 
+withstanding the superiority of price, the dairy is not reckoned a 
+more profitable employment of land than the raising of corn, or 
+thefattening of cattle, thetwo great objects of agriculture. T hrough 
+the greater part of Scotland, therefore, it cannot yet be even so 
+profitable. 
+
+
+
+T he lands of no country, it is evident, can ever be completely 
+cultivated and improved, till oncethepriceof every produce, which 
+human industry is obliged to raise upon them, has got so high as 
+to pay for the expense of complete improvement and cultivation. 
+I n order to do this, the price of each particular produce must be 
+sufficient, first, to pay the rent of good corn land, as it is that 
+which regulates the rent of the greater part of other cultivated 
+land; and, secondly, to pay the labour and expense of the farmer, 
+as well as they are commonly paid upon good corn land; or, in 
+other words, to replace with the ordinary profits the stock which 
+he employs about it. T his rise in the price of each particular pro- 
+duce; must evidently be previoustotheimprovement and cultiva- 
+tion of the land which isdestined for raising it. Gain istheendof 
+all improvement; and nothing could deserve that name, of which 
+loss was to be the necessary consequence. But loss must be the 
+necessary consequence of improving land for the sake of a pro- 
+duceof which thepricecould never bring back theexpense. Ifthe 
+complete improvement and cultivation of the country be, as it 
+most certainly is, the greatest of all public advantages, this rise in 
+the price of all those different sorts of rude produce, instead of 
+being considered asa public calamity, ought to be regarded as the 
+necessary forerunner and attendant of the greatest of all public 
+advantages. 
+
+
+
+193 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+This rise, too, in the nominal or money price of all thosediffer- 
+ent sorts of rude produce, has been the effect, not of any degrada- 
+tion in the value of silver, but of a rise in their real price. They 
+have become worth, not only a greater quantity of silver, but a 
+greater quantity of labour and subsistence than before. As it costs 
+a greater quantity of labour and subsistence to bring them to mar- 
+ket, so, when they are brought thither they represent, or areequiva- 
+lenttoagreaterquantity 
+
+Third Sort. — Thethird and last sort of rude produce, of which 
+the price naturally rises in the progress of improvement, isthatin 
+which the efficacy of human industry, in augmenting the quan- 
+tity, is either limited or uncertain. Though the real price of this 
+sort of rude produce, therefore, naturally tends to rise in the 
+progress of improvement, yet, according as different accidents 
+happen to render the efforts of human industry more or less suc- 
+cessful in augmenting thequantity, it may happen sometimeseven 
+to fall, sometimes to continue the same, in very different periods 
+of improvement, and sometimes to rise more or less in the same 
+period. 
+
+There are some sorts of rude produce which nature has ren- 
+dered a kind of appendages to other sorts; so that thequantity of 
+the one which any country can afford, is necessarily limited by 
+
+
+
+that of the other. The quantity of wool or of raw hides, for ex- 
+ample, which any country can afford, is necessarily limited by the 
+number of great and small cattlethatarekeptin it. The state of its 
+improvement, and the nature of its agriculture, again necessarily 
+determinethis number. 
+
+T hesamecauses which, in theprogressof improvement, gradu- 
+ally raise the price of butcher's meat, should have the same effect, 
+it may be thought, upon the prices of wool and raw hides, and 
+raise them, too, nearly in the same proportion. It probably would 
+be so, if, in the rude beginnings of improvement, the market for 
+the latter commodities was confined within as narrow bounds as 
+that for the former. But the extent of their respective markets is 
+commonly extremely different. 
+
+T he market for butcher's meat isalmost everywhere confined to 
+the country which produces it. I reland, and some part of British 
+America, indeed, carry on a considerable trade in salt provisions; 
+but they are, I bdieve, theonlycountriesinthecommercial world 
+which do so, or which export to other countries any considerable 
+part of thar butcher's meat. 
+
+The market for wool and raw hides, on the contrary, is, in the 
+rude beginnings of improvement, very sddom confined to the 
+country which produces them. They can easily be transported to 
+distant countries; wool without any preparation, and raw hides 
+
+
+
+194 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+with very little; and as they are the materials of many manufac- 
+tures, the industry of other countries may occasion a demand for 
+them, though that of the country which produces them might 
+not occasion any. 
+
+In countries ill cultivated, and therefore but thinly inhabited, 
+the price of the wool and the hide bears always a much greater 
+proportion to that of the whole beast, than in countries where, 
+improvement and population beingfurther advanced, thereismore 
+demand for butcher's meat. M r Hume observes, that in the Saxon 
+times, the fleece was estimated at two-fifths of the value of the 
+whole sheep and that this was much above the proportion of its 
+present estimation. In some provinces of Spain, I have been as- 
+sured, the sheep is frequently killed merely for the sake of the 
+fleece and the tallow. The carcase is often left to rot upon the 
+ground, or to bedevoured by beasts and birdsof prey. If thissome- 
+timeshappenseven in Spain, it happensalmost constantly in Chili, 
+at Buenos Ayres, and in many other parts of Spanish America, 
+where thehorned cattleare almost constantly killed merelyforthe 
+sake of the hide and the tallow. This, too, used to happen almost 
+constantly in H ispaniola, while it was infested by the buccaneers, 
+and before the settlement, improvement, and populousnessof the 
+French plantations (which now extend round the coast of almost 
+the whole western half of the island) had given some value to the 
+
+
+
+cattle of the Spaniards, who still continueto possess, not only the 
+eastern part of the coast, but the whole inland mountainous part 
+of the country. 
+
+Though, in the progress of improvement and population, the 
+price of the whole beast necessarily rises, yet the price of the car- 
+caseislikely to bemuch more affected bythisrise than that of the 
+wool and the hide. The market for the carcase being in the rude 
+state of society confined always to thecountry which producesit, 
+must necessarily be extended in proportion to the improvement 
+and population of that country. But the market for the wool and 
+the hides, even of a barbarous country, often extending to the 
+whole commercial world, it can very seldom be enlarged in the 
+same proportion. The state of the whole commercial world can 
+seldom be much affected by the improvement of any particular 
+country; and the market for such commodities may remain the 
+same, or very nearly the same, after such improvements, as before. 
+It should, however, in the natural course of things, rather, upon 
+the whole, be somewhat extended in consequence of them. If the 
+manufactures, especially, of which those commodities are the 
+materials, should ever come to flourish in the country, the mar- 
+ket, though it might not be much enlarged, would at least be 
+brought much nearer to the place of growth than before; and the 
+price of those materials might at least be increased by what had 
+
+
+
+195 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+usually been the expense of transporting them to distant coun- 
+tries. Though it might not rise, therefore, in the same proportion 
+as that of butcher's meat, it ought naturally to rise somewhat, and 
+it ought certainly not to fall. 
+
+In England, however, notwithstanding the flourishing state of 
+its woollen manufacture, thepriceof English wool has fallen very 
+considerably since the time of Edward III. There are many au- 
+thentic records which demonstrate that, during the reign of that 
+prince (towards the middle of the fourteenth century, or about 
+1339), what was reckoned the moderate and reasonable price of 
+the tod, or twenty-eight pounds of English wool, was not less 
+than ten shillings of the money of those times {See Smith's M em- 
+oirsof Wool, vol. i c. 5, 6, 7. also vol. ii.}, containing, attherateof 
+twenty-pence the ounce, six ounces of silver, Tower weight, equal 
+to aboutthirtyshillingsof our present money. I n the present times, 
+one-and-twenty shillings the tod may be reckoned a good price 
+for very good English wool. The money price of wool, therefore, 
+in the time of Edward 1 1 1 . was to its money price in the present 
+times as ten to seven. The superiority of its real price was still 
+greater. Attherateof six shillings and eightpencethe quarter, ten 
+shillings was in those ancient times the price of twelve bushels of 
+wheat. At the rate of twenty-eight shillings the quarter, one-and- 
+twenty shillings is in the present times the price of six bushels 
+
+
+
+only. The proportion between the real price of ancient and mod- 
+ern times, therefore, is as twelve to six, or as two to one. In those 
+ancienttimes, atod of wool would havepurchased twice thequan- 
+tity of subsistence which it will purchase at present, and conse- 
+quently twice the quantity of labour, if the real recompence of 
+labour had been the same in both periods. 
+
+This degradation, both in the real and nominal value of wool, 
+could never have happened in consequence of the natural course 
+of things. It has accordingly been the effect of violence and arti- 
+fice. First, of the absolute prohibition of exporting wool from 
+England: secondly, of the permission of importing it from Spain, 
+dutyfree: thirdly, of the prohibition of exporting it from Ireland 
+to another country but England. In consequence of these regula- 
+tions, the market for English wool, instead of being somewhat 
+extended, in consequence of the improvement of England, has 
+been confined to the home market, where thewool of several other 
+countries is allowed to come into competition with it, and where 
+that of Ireland isforced into competition with it. As the woollen 
+manufactures, too, of Ireland, are fully as much discouraged as is 
+consistent with justice and fair dealing, the I rish can work up but 
+a smaller part of their own wool at home, and are therefore obliged 
+to send a greater proportion of it to G reat Britain, theonly market 
+they are allowed. 
+
+
+
+196 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+I havenot been ableto find any such authentic recordsconcern- 
+ing the price of raw hides in ancient times. Wool was commonly 
+paid as a subsidy to the king, and its valuation in that subsidy 
+ascertains, at I east i n somedegree, whatwasits ordinary price. But 
+this seems not to have been the case with raw hides. Fleetwood, 
+however, from an account in 1425, between theprior of Burcester 
+Oxford and oneof hiscanons, givesustheir price, at least asit was 
+stated upon that particular occasion, viz. five ox hides at twelve 
+shillings; five cow hides at seven shillings and threepence; thirtysix 
+sheep skins of two years old at nine shillings; sixteen calf skins at 
+two shillings. In 1425, twelve shillings contained about the same 
+quantity of si Iverasfour-and-twentyshillingsof our present money. 
+An oxhide, therefore, wasin thisaccount valued atthesamequan- 
+tityof silver as 4s. 4/5ths of our present money. Its nominal price 
+was a good deal lower than at present. But at the rate of six shil- 
+lings and eightpence the quarter, twelve shillings would in those 
+times have purchased fourteen bushels and four-fifths of a bushel 
+of wheat, which, at three and sixpence the bushel, would in the 
+present times cost 51s. 4d. An ox hide, therefore, would in those 
+timeshave purchased asmuch corn as ten shillings and threepence 
+would purchase at present. Its real value was equal to ten shillings 
+and threepenceof our present money. I n those ancient times, when 
+the cattle were half starved during the greater part of the winter, 
+
+
+
+we cannot suppose that they were of a very large size. An ox hide 
+which weighs four stone of sixteen pounds of avoirdupois, is not 
+in the present times reckoned a bad one; and in those ancient 
+times would probably have been reckoned averygood one. But at 
+half-a-crown the stone, which at this moment (February 1773) I 
+understand to bethecommon price, such a hidewould at present 
+cost only ten shillings. Through its nominal price, therefore, is 
+higher in the present than it was in those ancient times, its real 
+price, the real quantity of subsistence which it will purchase or 
+command, is rather somewhat lower. The price of cow hides, as 
+stated in the above account, is nearly in the common proportion 
+to that of ox hides. That of sheep skins is a good deal above it. 
+They had probably been sold with the wool. That of calves skins, 
+on the contrary, isgreatly below it. In countries where thepriceof 
+cattle is very low, the calves, which are not intended to be reared 
+in order to keep up the stock, are generally killed very young, as 
+was the case in Scotland twenty or thirty years ago. It saves the 
+milk, which their price would not pay for. Their skins, therefore, 
+are commonly good for little. 
+
+Thepriceofrawhidesisagooddeal lower at present than it was 
+a few years ago; owing probably to the taking off the duty upon 
+sealskins, and to theallowing, for a limited time, the importation 
+of raw hides from Ireland, and from the plantations, duty free, 
+
+
+
+197 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+which wasdonein 1769. Take the whole of the present century at 
+an average, their real price has probably been somewhat higher 
+than it was in those ancient times. T he nature of the commodity 
+renders it not quite so proper for being transported to distant 
+markets as wool. It suffers more by keeping. A salted hideisreck- 
+oned inferior to afresh one, and sells for a lower price. This cir- 
+cumstance must necessarily have some tendency to sink the price 
+of raw hides produced in a country which does not manufacture 
+them, but is obliged to export them, and comparatively to raise 
+that of those produced in a country which does manufacture them. 
+It must havesometendency to sink their pricein a barbarous, and 
+to raise it in an improved and manufacturing country. It must 
+have had some tendency, therefore, to sink it in ancient, and to 
+raiseitin modern times Ourtanners, besides, havenotbeen quite 
+so successful as our clothiers, in convincing the wisdom of the 
+nation, that the safety of the commonwealth depends upon the 
+prosperity of their particular manufacture. T hey have accordingly 
+been much less favoured. The exportation of raw hides has, in- 
+deed, been prohibited, and declared a nuisance; but their impor- 
+tation from foreign countries has been subjected to a duty; and 
+though this duty has been taken off from those of Ireland and the 
+plantations (for the limited time of five years only), yet Ireland 
+has not been confined to the market of Great Britain for the sale 
+
+
+
+of its surplus hides, or of those which are not manufactured at 
+home. The hides of common cattle have, but within these few 
+years, been put among the enumerated commodities which the 
+plantations can send nowhere but to the mother country; neither 
+has the commerce of Ireland been in this case oppressed hitherto, 
+in order to support the manufactures of Great Britain. 
+
+W hatever regulationstend to sink the price, either of wool or of 
+rawhides, below what it naturally would he, must, in an improved 
+and cultivated country, havesometendency to raise the price of 
+butcher'smeat.Thepriceboth of thegreatand small cattle, which 
+are fed on improved and cultivated land, must be sufficient to pay 
+the rent which the landlord, and the profit which the farmer, has 
+reason to expect from improved and cultivated land. If it is not, 
+they will soon cease to feed them. Whatever part of this price, 
+therefore, is not paid by the wool and the hide, must be paid by 
+the carcase. T he less there is paid for the one, the more must be 
+paid for theother. In what manner thispriceistobedivided upon 
+the different parts of the beast, is indifferent to the landlords and 
+farmers, provided it is all paid to them. In an improved and culti- 
+vated country, therefore, their interest as landlords and farmers 
+cannot be much affected by such regulations, though their inter- 
+est as consumers may, by the rise in the price of provisions. It 
+would bequite otherwise, however, in an unimproved and uncul- 
+
+
+
+198 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+tivated country, where the greater part of the lands could be ap- 
+plied to no other purpose but thefeeding of cattle, and where the 
+wool and the hide made the principal part of the value of those 
+cattle. Their interest as landlords and farmers would in this case 
+be very deeply affected by such regulations, and their interest as 
+consumers very little. The fall in the price of the wool and the 
+hide would not in this case raise the price of the carcase; because 
+thegreater part of the lands of the country being applicableto no 
+other purpose but the feeding of cattle, the same number would 
+still continueto be fed. The same quantity of butcher'smeat would 
+still come to market. The demand for it would be no greater than 
+before. Its price, therefore, would bethesameasbeforeThewhole 
+price of cattle would fall, and along with it both the rent and the 
+profit of all those landsof which cattle was the principal produce, 
+that is, of the greater part of the lands of the country. T he per- 
+petual prohibition of the exportation of wool, which iscommonly, 
+but very falsely, ascribed to Edward III., would, in the then cir- 
+cumstances of thecountry, have been the most destructive regula- 
+tion which could well have been thought of. It would not only 
+have reduced theactual valueof thegreater part of thelandsin the 
+kingdom, but by reducing the priceof the most important species 
+of small cattle, it would have retarded very much its subsequent 
+improvement. 
+
+
+
+Thewool of Scotland fell very considerably in itspricein conse- 
+quenceoftheunion with England, by which it was excluded from 
+the great market of Europe, and confined to the narrow one of 
+Great Britain. The value of the greater part of the lands in the 
+southern counties of Scotland, which are chiefly a sheep country, 
+would have been very deeply affected by this event, had not the 
+risein the priceof butcher'smeat fully compensated thefall in the 
+priceof wool. 
+
+As the efficacy of human industry, in increasing the quantity 
+either of wool or of raw hides, islimited, so far asit depends upon 
+theproduceofthecountrywhereitisexerted;soitisuncertainso 
+far as it depends upon the produce of other countries. It so far 
+depends not so much upon the quantity which they produce, as 
+upon that which they do not manufacture; and upon therestraints 
+which they may or may not think proper to impose upon the 
+exportation of this sort of rude produce. These circumstances, as 
+they are altogether independent of domestic industry, so they nec- 
+essarily render the efficacy of its efforts more or less uncertain. In 
+multiplying this sort of rude produce, therefore, the efficacy of 
+human industry is not only limited, but uncertain. 
+
+In multiplying another very important sort of rude produce, 
+the quantity of fish that is brought to market, it is likewise both 
+limited and uncertain. It is limited by the local situation of the 
+
+
+
+199 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+country, by the proximity or distance of its different provinces 
+from the sea, by the number of its lakes and rivers, and by what 
+may be called the fertility or barrenness of those seas, lakes, and 
+rivers, asto this sort of rude produce. As population increases, as 
+the annual produce of the land and labour of the country grows 
+greater and greater, there come to be more buyers of fish; and 
+those buyers, too, have a greater quantity and variety of other 
+goods, or, what is the same thing, the price of a greater quantity 
+and variety of other goods, to buy with. But it will generally be 
+impossibleto supply thegreat and extended market, without em- 
+ploying a quantity of labour greater than in proportion to what 
+had been requisite for supplying the narrow and confined one. A 
+market which, from requiring only one thousand, comes to re- 
+quire annually ten thousand ton offish, can seldom be supplied, 
+without employing more than ten times the quantity of labour 
+which had before been sufficient to supply it. The fish must gen- 
+erally be sought for at a greater distance, larger vessels must be 
+employed, and more expensive machinery of every kind made use 
+of. The real price of this commodity, therefore, naturally rises in 
+the progress of improvement. It has accordingly done so, I be- 
+lieve, more or less in every country. 
+
+Though the success of a particular day's fishing maybe a very 
+uncertain matter, yetthelocal situation of thecountry being sup- 
+
+
+
+posed, the general efficacy of industry in bringing a certain quan- 
+tity offish to market, taking the course of a year, or of several years 
+together, it may, perhaps, bethought iscertain enough; and it, no 
+doubt, is so. As it depends more, however, upon the local situation 
+of the country, than upon the state of its wealth and industry; as 
+uponthisaccountitmayin different countries be the same in very 
+different periods of improvement, and very different in the same 
+period; its connection with the state of improvement is uncertain; 
+and itisof this sort of uncertainty that I am here speaking. 
+
+In increasing the quantity of the different minerals and metals 
+which are drawn from the bowels of the earth, that of the more 
+precious ones particularly, the efficacy of human industry seems 
+not to be limited, but to be altogether uncertain. 
+
+Thequantityofthepreciousmetalswhich isto be found in any 
+country, is not limited by any thing in its local situation, such as 
+thefertility or barrenness of itsown mines. T hose metalsfrequently 
+abound in countries which possess no mines. Their quantity, in 
+every particular country, seemsto depend upon two different cir- 
+cumstances; first, upon its power of purchasing, upon thestateof 
+its industry, upon the annual produce of its land and labour, in 
+consequenceof which itcan afford to employagreaterorasmaller 
+quantity of labour and subsistence, in bringing or purchasing such 
+superfluities as gold and silver, either from itsown mines, or from 
+
+
+
+200 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+those of other countries; and, secondly, upon the fertility or bar- 
+renness of the mines which may happen at any particular time to 
+supply the commercial world with those metals. T he quantity of 
+those metals in the countries most remote from the mines, must 
+be more or I ess affected by this fertility or barrenness, on account 
+of theeasyand cheap transportation of those metals, of their small 
+bulk and great value. Their quantity in China and Indostan must 
+have been more or I ess affected by the abundance of theminesof 
+America. 
+
+So far as their quantity in any particular country depends upon 
+theformer of those two circumstances (the power of purchasing), 
+their real price, like that of all other luxuries and superfluities, is 
+likely to rise with the wealth and improvement of the country, 
+and to fall with its poverty and depression. Countries which have 
+a great quantity of labour and subsistence to spare, can afford to 
+purchase any particular quantity of those metals at the expense of 
+a greater quantity of labour and subsistence, than countries which 
+have I ess to spare. 
+
+So far as their quantity in any particular country depends upon 
+the latter of those two circumstances (thefertility or barrennessof 
+the mines which happen to supply the commercial world), their 
+real price, the real quantity of labour and subsistence which they 
+will purchase or exchange for, will, no doubt, sink more or lessin 
+
+
+
+proportion to thefertility, and rise in proportion to the barren- 
+ness of those mines. 
+
+The fertility or barrenness of the mines, however, which may 
+happen at any particular timeto supply the commercial world, is 
+a circumstance which, it is evident, may have no sort of connec- 
+tion with the state of industry in a particular country. It seems 
+even to have no very necessary connection with that of the world 
+in general. Asartsand commerce, indeed, gradually spread them- 
+selves over a greater and a greater part of the earth, the search for 
+new mines, being extended over a wider surface, may have some- 
+what a better chancefor being successful than when confined within 
+narrower bounds. The discovery of new mines, however, as the 
+old ones come to be gradually exhausted, isa matter of the great- 
+est uncertainty, and such asno human skill or industry can insure. 
+All indications, it is acknowledged, are doubtful; and the actual 
+discovery and successful working of a new mine can alone ascer- 
+tain the reality of its value, or even of its existence. I n this search 
+there seem to beno certain limits, either to the possible success, or 
+to the possible disappointment of human industry. In the course 
+of a century or two, it is possible that new mines may be discov- 
+ered, morefertilethan any that have ever yet been known; and it is 
+just equally possible, that the most fertile mine then known may 
+bemore barren than any that was wrought before the discovery of 
+
+
+
+201 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+the mines of America. Whether the one or the other of those two 
+eventsmay happen to takeplace, isof very little importance to the 
+real wealth and prosperity of the world, to the real value of the 
+annual produce of the land and labour of mankind. Its nominal 
+value, the quantity of gold and silver by which this annual pro- 
+ducecould be expressed or represented, would, no doubt, be very 
+different; but its real value, the real quantity of labour which it 
+could purchaseor command, would be precisely the same. A shil- 
+ling might, in theonecase, represent no morelabour than a penny 
+does at present; and a penny, in theother, might represent asmuch 
+asashillingdoesnow. But in theonecase, hewho had a shilling in 
+hispocket would beno richer than hewho hasa penny at present; 
+and in theother, hewho had a penny would bejust as rich as he 
+who has a shilling now. Thecheapness and abundance of gold and 
+silver plate would be the sole advantage which the world could 
+derive from the one event; and the dearness and scarcity of those 
+trifling superfluities, the only inconveniency it could suffer from 
+theother. 
+
+Conclusion of the Digression concerning the Variations in the 
+Value of Silver. 
+
+The greater part of the writers who have collected the money 
+price of things in ancient times, seem to have considered the low 
+
+
+
+money price of corn, and of goods in general, or, in other words, 
+the high value of gold and silver, as a proof, not only of the scar- 
+city of those metals, but of the poverty and barbarism of thecoun- 
+try at the time when it took place. This notion is connected with 
+thesystem of political economy, which represents national wealth 
+as consisting in the abundance and national poverty in the scar- 
+city, of gold and silver; a system which I shall endeavour to ex- 
+plain and examine at great length in the fourth book of this In- 
+quiry. I shall only observe at present, that the high value of the 
+precious metals can be no proof of the poverty or barbarism of 
+any particular country at thetime when it took place. It isa proof 
+only of the barrenness of the mines which happened at that time 
+to supply the commercial world. A poor country, as it cannot af- 
+ford to buy more, so it can as little afford to pay dearer for gold 
+and silver than a rich one; and thevalueof thosemetals, therefore, 
+is not likely to be higher in theformer than in the latter. In China, 
+a country much richer than any part of Europe, thevalueof the 
+precious metals is much higher than in any part of Europe. As the 
+wealth of Europe, indeed, hasincreased greatly si nee the discovery 
+oftheminesof America, so thevalueof gold and silver has gradu- 
+ally diminished. Thisdiminution of their value, however, hasnot 
+been owing to the increase of the real wealth of Europe, of the 
+annual produce of its land and labour, but to the accidental dis- 
+
+
+
+202 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+covery of more abundant mines than any that were known before. 
+The increase of the quantity of gold and silver in Europe, and the 
+increaseof its manufactures and agriculture, are two events which, 
+though they have happened nearly about the same time, yet have 
+arisen from very different causes, and have scarce any natural con- 
+nection with one another. T he one has arisen from a mere acci- 
+dent, in which neither prudence nor policy either had or could 
+have any share; the other, from the fall of the feudal system, and 
+from the establishment of a government which afforded to indus- 
+try the only encouragement which it requires, some tolerable se- 
+curity that it shall enjoy thefruits of itsown labour. Poland, where 
+the feudal system still continues to take place, is at this day as 
+beggarly a country as it was before the discovery of America. T he 
+money price of corn, however, has risen; the real value of the pre 
+cious metals has fallen in Poland, in the same manner as in other 
+parts of Europe. Their quantity, therefore, must have increased 
+there as in other places, and nearly in the same proportion to the 
+annual produce of its land and labour. This increase of the quan- 
+tity of those metals, however, has not, it seems, increased that 
+annual produce, hasneither improved the manufactures and agri- 
+culture of the country, nor mended the circumstances of its in- 
+habitants. Spain and Portugal, the countries which possess the 
+mines, are, after Poland, perhaps thetwo most beggarly countries 
+
+
+
+in Europe. The value of the precious metals, however, must be 
+lower in Spain and Portugal than in any other part of Europe, as 
+theycomefromthosecountriestoall other parts of Europe, loaded, 
+not only with a freight and an insurance, but with the expense of 
+smuggling, their exportation being either prohibited or subjected 
+to a duty. In proportion to the annual produce of the land and 
+labour, therefore, their quantity must begreater in those countries 
+than in any other part of Europe; those countries, however, are 
+poorer than the greater part of Europe. Though the feudal system 
+has been abolished in Spain and Portugal, it has not been suc- 
+ceeded by a much better. 
+
+As the low value of gold and silver, therefore, is no proof of the 
+wealth and flouri shingstate of the country where it takes place; so 
+neither istheir high value, or the low money price either of goods 
+in general, or of corn in particular, any proof of its poverty and 
+barbarism. 
+
+But though the low money price, either of goods in general, or 
+of corn in particular, be no proof of the poverty or barbarism of 
+the times, the low money price of some particular sorts of goods, 
+such as cattle, poultry, gameof all kinds, etc. in proportion to that 
+of corn, is a most decisive one. It clearly demonstrates, first, their 
+great abundancein proportion to that of corn, and, consequently, 
+the great extent of the land which they occupied in proportion to 
+
+
+
+203 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+what was occupied by corn; and, secondly, the low value of this 
+land in proportion to that of corn land, and, consequently, the 
+uncultivated and unimproved state of the far greater part of the 
+lands of the country. It clearly demonstrates, that the stock and 
+population of the country did not bear the same proportion to 
+the extent of its territory, which they commonly do in civilized 
+countries; and that society was at that time, and in that country, 
+but in its infancy. From the high or low money price, either of 
+goods in general, or of corn in particular, we can infer only, that 
+themines, which at that timehappened to supply thecommercial 
+world with gold and silver, were fertile or barren, not that the 
+country was rich or poor. But from the high or low money price 
+of some sorts of goods in proportion to that of others, we can 
+infer, with a degree of probability that approaches almost to cer- 
+tainty, that it was rich or poor, that the greater part of its lands 
+were improved or unimproved, and that it was either in a more or 
+less barbarous state, or in a more or less civilized one. 
+
+Any rise in the money price of goods which proceeded alto- 
+gether from the degradation of the value of silver, would affect all 
+sorts of goods equally, and raise their price universally, a third, or 
+a fourth, or a fifth part higher, according as silver happened to 
+loseathird, orafourth, orafifth part of its former value. But the 
+rise in the price of provisions, which has been the subject of so 
+
+
+
+much reasoning and conversation, does not affect all sortsof pro- 
+visions equally. Taking the course of the present century at an 
+average, the price of corn, it is acknowledged, even by those who 
+account for this rise by the degradation of the value of silver, has 
+risen much less than that of some other sortsof provisions. The 
+rise in the price of those other sortsof provisions, therefore, can- 
+not be owing altogether to the degradation of the value of silver. 
+Someother causes must betaken into theaccount; and those which 
+have been above assigned, will, perhaps, without having recourse 
+tothesupposed degradation of the value of silver, sufficiently ex- 
+plain this rise in those particular sorts of provisions, of which the 
+price has actually risen in proportion to that of corn. 
+
+As to the price of corn itself, it has, during the sixty- four first 
+years of the present century, and beforethe late extraordinary course 
+of bad seasons, been somewhat lower than itwasduringthesixty- 
+four last years of the preceding century. This fact is attested, not 
+only by theaccountsof Windsor market, but by the public fiars of 
+all the different counties of Scotland, and by the accounts of sev- 
+eral different markets in France, which have been collected with 
+great diligence and fidelity by M r M essance, and byM rDuprede 
+St M aur. The evidence is more complete than could well have 
+been expected in a matter which is naturally so very difficult to be 
+ascertained. 
+
+
+
+204 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+Astothehigh priceof corn duringtheselastten or twelve years, 
+it can be sufficiently accounted for from the badness of the sea- 
+sons, without supposing any degradation in the value of silver. 
+
+The opinion, therefore, that silver is continually sinking in its 
+value, seems not to be founded upon any good observations, ei- 
+ther upon the prices of corn, or upon those of other provisions. 
+
+The same quantity of silver, it may perhaps be said, will, in the 
+present times, even according to theaccount which has been here 
+given, purchasea much smaller quantity of several sortsof provi- 
+sions than it would have done during some part of the last cen- 
+tury; and to ascertain whether this change be owing to a rise in the 
+value of those goods, or to a fall in the value of silver, is only to 
+establish a vain and uselessdistinction, which can be of no sort of 
+service to the man who has only a certain quantity of silver to go 
+to market with, or a certain fixed revenuein money. I certainly do 
+not pretend that the knowledgeof this distinction will enablehim 
+to buy cheaper. It may not, however, upon that account be alto- 
+gether useless. 
+
+Itmaybeof some use to the public, by affording an easy proof 
+of the prosperous condition of thecountry. If therisein theprice 
+of some sorts of provisions be owing altogether to a fall in the 
+value of silver, it isowing to a circumstance, from which nothing 
+can be inferred but the fertility of the American mines. The real 
+
+
+
+wealth of thecountry, the annual produce of its land and labour, 
+may, notwithstanding this circumstance, be either gradually de- 
+clining, as in Portugal and Poland; or gradually advancing, as in 
+most other parts of Europe. But if this rise in the price of some 
+sorts of provisions be owing to a rise in the real value of the land 
+which produces them, to its increased fertility, or, in consequence 
+of more extended improvement and good cultivation, to its hav- 
+ing been rendered fit for producing corn; it isowing to a circum- 
+stancewhich indicates, in thedearest manner, the prosperous and 
+advancing state of the country. The land constitutes by far the 
+greatest, the most important, and the most durable part of the 
+wealth of every extensive country. Itmay surely be of someuse, or, 
+at least, it may give some satisfaction to the public, to have so 
+decisive a proof of the increasing value of by far the greatest, the 
+most important, and the most durable part of its wealth. 
+
+Itmay, too, beof someuse to thepublic, in regu latin g the pecu- 
+niary reward of someof its inferior servants. If thisrisein theprice 
+of somesortsof provisions be owing toafall in the value of silver, 
+their pecuniary reward, provided it was not too large before, ought 
+certainly to be augmented in proportion to the extent of this fall. 
+If it is not augmented, their real recompencewill evidently be so 
+much diminished. Butifthisriseof priceisowingtotheincreased 
+value, in consequence of the improved fertility of the land which 
+
+
+
+205 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+produces such provisions, itbecomesamuch nicer matter to judge, 
+either in what proportion any pecuniary reward ought to be aug- 
+mented, or whether it ought to be augmented at all. The exten- 
+sion of improvement and cultivation, as it necessarily raises more 
+or less, in proportion to the price of corn, that of every sort of 
+animal food, so it as necessarily lowers that of, I believe, every sort 
+of vegetable food. It raises the price of animal food; because a 
+great part of the land which produces it, being rendered fit for 
+producing corn, must afford to the landlord anti farmer the rent 
+and profit of corn land. It lowers the price of vegetable food; be- 
+cause, by increasing the fertility of the land, it increases its abun- 
+danceTheimprovementsof agriculture, too, introducemanysorts 
+of vegetable food, which requiring less land, and not more labour 
+than corn, come much cheaper to market. Such are potatoes and 
+maize, or what is called Indian corn, thetwo most important im- 
+provements which the agriculture of Europe, perhaps, which Eu- 
+rope itself, has received from the great extension of its commerce 
+and navigation. M any sorts of vegetable food, besides, which in 
+the rude state of agriculture are confined to the kitchen-garden, 
+and raised only by the spade, come, in its improved state, to be 
+introduced into common fields, and to be raised by the plough; 
+such as turnips, carrots, cabbages, etc. If, in the progress of im- 
+provement, therefore, the real price of one species of food neces- 
+
+
+
+sarily rises, that of another as necessarily falls; and it becomes a 
+matter of more nicety to judge how far the rise in the one may be 
+compensated by the fall in the other. When the real price of 
+butcher's meat has once got to its height (which, with regard to 
+every sort, except perhapsthat of hogs flesh, it seems to have done 
+through a great part of E ngland more than a century ago), any rise 
+which can afterwards happen in that of any other sort of animal 
+food, cannot much affect the circumstances of the inferior ranks 
+of people. T he circumstances of the poor, through a great part of 
+England, cannot surely be so much distressed by any rise in the 
+price of poultry, fish, wild-fowl, or venison, as they must be re- 
+lieved by the fall in that of potatoes. 
+
+I n thepresent season of scarcity, the high priceof corn no doubt 
+distresses the poor. But in times of moderate plenty, when corn is 
+at itsordinary or average price, thenatural risein thepriceof any 
+other sort of rude produce cannot much affect them. They suffer 
+more, perhaps, by the artificial rise which has been occasioned by 
+taxes in the price of some manufactured commodities, as of salt, 
+soap, leather, candles, malt, beer, ale, etc. 
+
+
+
+206 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+Effects of the Progress of Improvement upon the real Price of 
+Manufactures. 
+
+It is the natural effect of improvement, however, to diminish 
+gradually the real price of almost all manufactures. That of the 
+manufacturing workmanship diminishes, perhaps, in all of them 
+without exception. In consequence of better machinery, of greater 
+dexterity, and of a more proper division and distribution of work, 
+all of which arethenatural effects of improvement, a much smaller 
+quantity of labour becomes requisite for executing any particular 
+piece of work; and though, in consequenceoftheflourishing cir- 
+cumstances of the society, thereal price of labour should rise very 
+considerably, yet the great diminution of the quantity will gener- 
+ally much more than compensate thegreatest rise which can hap- 
+pen in the price. 
+
+There are, indeed, a few manufactures, in which the necessary 
+risein thereal priceof the rude materialswill more than compen- 
+sate all the ad vantages which improvement can introduce into the 
+execution of thework In carpenters' and joiners' work, and in the 
+coarser sort of cabinet work, the necessary risein thereal priceof 
+barren timber, in consequence of the improvement of land, will 
+more than compensate all the advantages which can be derived 
+from thebest machinery, thegreatest dexterity, and themost proper 
+division and distribution of work. 
+
+
+
+But in all casesin which thereal priceof the rude material either 
+does not rise at all, or does not rise very much, that of the manu- 
+factured commodity sinks very considerably. 
+
+This diminution of price has, in the course of the present and 
+preceding century, been most remarkable in those manufactures 
+of which the materials are the coarser metals. A better movement 
+of a watch, than about the middle of the last century could have 
+been bought for twenty pounds, may now perhaps be had for 
+twenty shillings. In thework of cutlers and locksmiths, in all the 
+toys which are made of the coarser metals, and in all those goods 
+which are commonly known by the name of Birmingham and 
+Sheffield ware, therehasbeen, duringthesame period, a very great 
+reduction of price, though not altogether so great as in watch- 
+work. It has, however, been sufficient to astonish the workmen of 
+every other part of Europe, who in many cases acknowledge that 
+they can produce no work of equal goodness for double or even 
+for tripletheprice. There are perhapsno manufactures, in which 
+the division of labour can be carried further, or in which the ma- 
+chinery employed admits of a greater variety of improvements, 
+than those of which the materials are the coarser metals. 
+
+In the clothing manufacture there has, duringthesame period, 
+been no such sensible reduction of price. The price of superfine 
+cloth, I have been assured, on thecontrary, has, within these five- 
+
+
+
+207 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+and-twenty or thirty years, risen somewhat in proportion to its 
+quality, owing, it was said, to a considerable rise in the priceof the 
+material, which consists altogether of Spanish wool. That of the 
+Yorkshire cloth, which ismadealtogether of English wool, issaid, 
+indeed, during the course of the present century, to have fallen a 
+good deal in proportion to itsquality. Q uality, however, isso very 
+disputable a matter, that I look upon all information of this kind 
+as somewhat uncertain. In the clothing manufacture, thedivision 
+of labour is nearly the same now as it was a century ago, and the 
+machinery employed is not very different. There may, however, 
+have been some small improvements in both, which may have 
+occasioned some reduction of price. 
+
+But the reduction will appear much more sensible and undeni- 
+able, if we compare the price of this manufacture in the present 
+times with what it wasin a much remoter period, towardstheend 
+of the fifteenth century, when the labour was probably much less 
+subdivided, and the machinery employed much more imperfect, 
+than it is at present. 
+
+I n 1487, being the4th of H enry VI I ., it was enacted, that "who- 
+soever shall sell by retail abroad yard of the finest scarlet grained, 
+or of other grained cloth of the finest making, above sixteen shil- 
+lings, shall forfeit forty shillings for every yard so sold." Sixteen 
+shillings, therefore, containing about the same quantity of silver 
+
+
+
+as four-and-twenty shillings of our present money, was, at that 
+time, reckoned not an unreasonable price for a yard of the finest 
+cloth; and as this is a sumptuary law, such cloth, it is probable, 
+had usually been sold somewhat dearer. A guinea may be reck- 
+oned thehighest pricein the present times. Even though thequal- 
+ity of the cloths, therefore, should be supposed equal, and that of 
+the present times is most probably much superior, yet, even upon 
+this supposition, the money price of the finest cloth appears to 
+have been considerably reduced since theend of thefifteenth cen- 
+tury. But its real price has been much more reduced. Six shillings 
+and eightpence was then, and long afterwards, reckoned theaver- 
+age price of a quarter of wheat. Sixteen shillings, therefore, was 
+the price of two quarters and more than three bushels of wheat. 
+Valuing a quarter of wheat in thepresent times at eight-and-twenty 
+shillings, the real priceof a yard of finecloth must, in those times, 
+have been equal to at least three pounds six shillings and sixpence 
+of our present money. T he man who bought it must have parted 
+with the command of a quantity of labour and subsistence equal 
+to what that sum would purchase in the present times. 
+
+Thereduction inthereal priceof thecoarsemanufacture, though 
+considerable, has not been so great as in that of thefine. 
+
+In 1463, being the 3rd of Edward IV. it was enacted, that "no 
+servant in husbandry nor common labourer, nor servant to any 
+
+
+
+208 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+artificer inhabiting out of a city or burgh, shall use or wear in their 
+clothing any cloth above two shillings the broad yard." In the 3rd 
+of Edward IV., two shillings contained very nearly the same quan- 
+tity of silver as four of our present money. But the Yorkshire cloth 
+which is now sold at four shillings the yard, is probably much 
+superior to any that was then made for the wearing of the very 
+poorest order of common servants. Even the money price of their 
+clothing, therefore, may, in proportion to the quality, be some- 
+what cheaper in the present than it was in those ancient times. 
+The real price is certainly a good deal cheaper. Tenpence was then 
+reckoned what is called the moderate and reasonable price of a 
+bushel of wheat. Two shillings, therefore, was the price of two 
+bushels and near two pecks of wheat, which in the present times, 
+at three shillings and sixpence the bushel, would be worth eight 
+shillings and ninepence. For a yard of this cloth the poor servant 
+must have parted with the power of purchasing a quantity of sub- 
+sistence equal to what eight shillings and ninepence would pur- 
+chase in the present times. This is a sumptuary law, too, restrain- 
+ingtheluxuryandextravaganceofthepoor.Theirdothing, there- 
+fore, had commonly been much more expensive. 
+
+The same order of peopleare, bythesamelaw, prohibited from 
+wearing hose, of which the price should exceed fourteen-pence 
+the pair, equal to about eight-and-twenty pence of our present 
+
+
+
+money. But fourteen -pence was in those times thepriceofabush el 
+and near two pecks of wheat; which in the present times, at three 
+and sixpence the bushel, would cost five shillings and threepence. 
+We should in the present times consider this as a very high price 
+for a pair of stockings to a servant of the poorest and lowest order. 
+H emust however, in those times, have paid what wasreally equiva- 
+lent to this price for them. 
+
+I nthetimeof Edward I V. the art of knitti ng stocki ngs was prob- 
+ably not known in any part of Europe. Their hose were made of 
+common cloth, which may have been one of the causes of their 
+dearness. The first person that wore stockings in England issaid 
+to have been Queen Elizabeth. She received them as a present 
+from the Spanish ambassador. 
+
+Both in the coarse and in the fine woollen manufacture, the 
+machinery employed was much more imperfect in those ancient, 
+than it is in the present times. It has since received three very 
+capital improvements, besides, probably, many smaller ones, of 
+which it may be difficult to ascertain either the number or the 
+importance. Thethreecapital improvements are, first, theexchange 
+of the rock and spindle for the spinning-wheel, which, with the 
+samequantity of labour, will perform more than doublethequan- 
+tityof work. Secondly, the use of several very ingenious machines, 
+which facilitate and abridge, in a still greater proportion, thewind- 
+
+
+
+209 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+ing of the worsted and woollen yarn, or the proper arrangement 
+of the warp and woof before they are put into the loom; an opera- 
+tion which, previous to the invention of those machines, must 
+have been extremely tedious and troublesome. Thirdly, the em- 
+ployment of the fulling-mill for thickening the cloth, instead of 
+treading it in water. Neither wind nor water mills of any kind 
+were known in England so early as the beginning of the sixteenth 
+century, nor, so far as I know, in any other part of Europe north of 
+theAlps. They had been introduced into Italy some time before. 
+
+Theconsideration of these circumstances may, perhaps, in some 
+measure, explain to uswhythereal price both of the coarse and of 
+thefinemanufacturewasso much higher in those ancient than it 
+is in the present times. It cost a greater quantity of labour to bring 
+the goods to market. W hen they were brought thither, therefore, 
+they must have purchased, or exchanged for the price of, a greater 
+quantity. 
+
+The coarse manufacture probably was, in those ancient times, 
+carried on in England in thesame manner asitalwayshas been in 
+countries where arts and manufactures are in their infancy. Itwas 
+probably a household manufacture, in which every different part 
+of the work was occasionally performed by all the different mem- 
+bersof almost every private family, but so asto be their work only 
+when they had nothing else to do, and not to be the principal 
+
+
+
+business from which any of them derived the greater part of their 
+subsistence. The work which is performed in this manner, it has 
+already been observed, comes alwaysmuch cheaper to market than 
+that which is the principal or sole fund of the workman's subsis- 
+tence. The fine manufacture, on theother hand, was not, in those 
+times, carried on in England, but in therich and commercial coun- 
+try of Flanders; and it was probably conducted then, in thesame 
+manner as now, by people who derived the whole, or theprinci pal 
+part of their subsistence from it. It was, besides, a foreign manu- 
+facture, and must have paid some duty, the ancient custom of 
+tonnage and poundage at least, to the king. This duty, indeed, 
+would not probably be very great. It was not then the policy of 
+Europe to restrain, by high duties, the importation of foreign 
+manufactures, but rather to encourage it, in order that merchants 
+might be enabled to supply, at as easy a rate as possible, the great 
+men with the conveniences and luxuries which they wanted, and 
+which the industry of their own country could not afford them. 
+Theconsideration of these circumstances may, perhaps, in some 
+measure explain to us why, in those ancient times, thereal price of 
+the coarse manufacture was, in proportion to that of the fine, so 
+much lower than in the present times. 
+
+
+
+210 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+Conclusion of the Chapter. 
+
+I shall conclude this very long chapter with observing, that every 
+improvement in the circumstances of the society tends, either di- 
+rectly or indirectly, to raise the real rent of land to increase the real 
+wealth of the landlord, his power of purchasing the labour, or the 
+produce of the labour of other people. 
+
+Theextension of improvement and cultivation tends to raiseit 
+directly. The landlord's share of the produce necessarily increases 
+with the increase of the produce. 
+
+T hat rise in the real price of those parts of the rude produce of 
+land, which is first the effect of the extended improvement and 
+cultivation, and afterwards the cause of their being still further 
+extended, the rise in the priceof cattle, for example, tends, too, to 
+raise the rent of land directly, and in a still greater proportion. The 
+real value of the landlord's share, his real command of the labour 
+of other people, not only rises with the real value of the produce, 
+but the proportion of his share to the whole produce rises with it. 
+
+That produce, after the rise in its real price, requires no more 
+labour to collect it than before. A smaller proportion of it will, 
+therefore, be sufficient to replace, with the ordinary profit, the 
+stock which employs that labour. A greater proportion of it must 
+consequently belong to the landlord. 
+
+
+
+All those improvements in the productive powers of labour, 
+which tend directly to reduce the rent priceof manufactures, tend 
+indirectly to raise the real rent of land. The landlord exchanges 
+that part of his rude produce, which is over and above his own 
+consumption, or, what comes to the samething, the price of that 
+part of it, for manufactured produce. W hatever reduces the real 
+price of the latter, raises that of the former. An equal quantity of 
+theformer becomes thereby equivalent to a greater quantity of the 
+latter; and the landlord is enabled to purchase a greater quantity 
+of the conveniences, ornaments, or luxuries which he has occa- 
+sion for. 
+
+Every increase in thereal wealth of thesociety, every in crease in 
+the quantity of useful labour employed within it, tends indirectly 
+to raise the real rent of land. A certain proportion of this labour 
+naturally goes to theland. A greater number of men and cattleare 
+employed in its cultivation, the produce increases with the in- 
+crease of the stock which is thus employed in raising it, and the 
+rent increases with the produce. 
+
+T he contrary circumstances, the neglect of cultivation and im- 
+provement, the fall in the real price of any part of the rude pro- 
+duce of land, the rise in the real price of manufactures from the 
+decay of manufacturing art and industry, the declension of the 
+real wealth of thesociety, all tend, on theother hand, to lower the 
+
+
+
+211 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+real rent of land, to reduce the real wealth of the landlord, to di- 
+minish his power of purchasing either the labour, or the produce 
+of the labour, of other people. 
+
+Thewholeannual produce of theland and labour of every coun- 
+try, or, what comes to the same thing, the whole price of that 
+annual produce, naturally divides itself, it has already been ob- 
+served, into three parts; the rent of land, the wages of labour, and 
+the profits of stock; and constitutes a revenue to three different 
+orders of people; to those who live by rent, to those who live by 
+wages, and to those who live by profit. T hese are the three great, 
+original, and constituent, orders of every civilized society, from 
+whose revenue that of every other order is ultimately derived. 
+
+The interest of the first of those three great orders, it appears 
+from what has been just now said, is strictly and inseparably con- 
+nected with the general interest of the society. Whatever either 
+promotes or obstructs the one, necessarily promotes or obstructs 
+theother. W hen thepublic deliberates concerning any regulation 
+of commerce or police, the proprietors of land never can mislead 
+it, with a view to promote the interest of their own particular 
+order; at least, if they have any tolerable knowledge of that inter- 
+est. They are, indeed, too often defective in this tolerable knowl- 
+edge. They are the only one of the three orders whose revenue 
+costs them neither labour nor care, but comes to them, asit were, 
+
+
+
+of its own accord, and independent of any plan or project of their 
+own. That indolence which is the natural effect of the ease and 
+security of their situation, renders them too often, not only igno- 
+rant, but incapable of that application of mind, which isnecessary 
+in order to foresee and understand the consequence of any public 
+regulation. 
+
+T heinterest of thesecond order, that of those who live by wages, 
+is as strictly connected with the interest of the society as that of 
+the first. The wages of the labourer, it has already been shewn, are 
+never so high as when the demand for labour iscontinually rising, 
+or when the quantity employed is every year in creasing consider- 
+ably. When this real wealth of the society becomes stationary, his 
+wages are soon reduced to what isbarely enough to enablehim to 
+bring up a family, or to continue the race of labourers. W hen the 
+society declines, they fall even below this. Theorder of proprietors 
+may perhaps gain more by the prosperity of the society than that 
+of labourers; but there is no order that suffers so cruelly from its 
+decline. But though the interest of the labourer is strictly con- 
+nected with that of the society, he is incapable either of compre- 
+hending that interest, or of understanding its connexion with his 
+own. H is condition leaves him no time to receive the necessary 
+information, and hiseducation and habits are commonly such as 
+to render him unfit to judge, even though he was fully informed. 
+
+
+
+212 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+I n the public deliberations, therefore, his voice is little heard, and 
+less regarded; except upon particular occasions, when his clamour 
+is animated, set on, and supported by his employers, not for his, 
+but their own particular purposes. 
+
+H is employers constitute the third order, that of those who live 
+by profit. It is the stock that is employed for the sake of profit, 
+which puts into motion the greater part of the useful labour of 
+every society. The plans and projects of the employers of stock 
+regulate and direct all the most important operation of labour, 
+and profit istheend proposed by all thoseplansand projects. But 
+the rate of profit does not, likerent and wages, rise with the pros- 
+perity, and fall with thededension of thesociety n thecontrary, 
+it is naturally low in rich, and high in poor countries, and it is 
+always highest in the countries which are going fastest to ruin. 
+The interest of this third order, therefore, has not the same 
+connexion with the general interest of the society, as that of the 
+other two. M erch ants and master manufacturers are, in this order, 
+the two classes of people who commonly employ the largest capi- 
+tals, and who by their wealth draw to themselves the greatest share 
+of the public consideration. As during their whole lives they are 
+engaged in plans and projects, they have frequently moreacute- 
+nessof understanding than thegreater part of country gentlemen. 
+As their thoughts, however, are commonly exercised rather about 
+
+
+
+the interest of their own particular branch of business, than about 
+that of thesociety, their judgment, even when given with thegreat- 
+est candour (which it has not been upon every occasion), is much 
+more to bedepended upon with regard to theformer of those two 
+objects, than with regard to the latter. T heir superiority over the 
+country gentleman is, not so much in their knowledge of the pub- 
+lic interest, as in their having a better knowledge of their own 
+interest than hehasof his. It is by this superior knowledgeof their 
+own interest that they have frequently imposed upon hisgeneros- 
+ity, and persuaded him to give up both his own interest and that 
+of the public, from averysimplebut honest conviction, that their 
+interest, and nothis, was theinterest of thepublic. Theinterest of 
+the dealers, however, in any particular branch of trade or manu- 
+factures, isalwaysin some respects different from, and even oppo- 
+site to, that of the public. To widen the market, and to narrow the 
+competition, is always the interest of the dealers. To widen the 
+market may frequently be agreeable enough to theinterest of the 
+public; but to narrow the competition must always be against it, 
+and can only serve to enable the dealers, by raising their profits 
+above what they naturally would be, to levy, for their own benefit, 
+an absurd tax upon the rest of their fellow-citizens. The proposal 
+of any new law or regulation of commerce which comes from this 
+order, ought always to be listened to with great precaution, and 
+
+
+
+213 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+ought never to beadopted till after having been long and carefully 1247 13 5 2 
+
+examined, not only with the most scrupulous, but with the most 1257 14 3 12 
+
+suspiciousattention. It comes from an order of men, whoseinter- 1258 10 
+
+est is never exactly the same with that of the public, who have 15 17 2 110 
+
+generally an interest to deceive and even to oppress the public, 16 
+
+and who accordingly have, upon many occasions, both deceived 1270 4 16 
+
+and oppressed it. 6 8 5 12 16 16 
+
+1286 2 8 
+
+#PRICESOFWHEAT 16 094 180 
+
+Total 35 9 3 
+Year Prices/Q uarter Average of different Average prices of Average 2 19 l l U 
+
+in each year pricesin oneyear each year in money 
+
+of 1776 1287 3 4 10 
+
+£ s d £ s d £ s d 1288 8 
+
+1202 12 1 16 10 
+
+1205 12 14 
+
+13 4 13 5 203 016 
+
+15 18 3 (M 9 VU 
+
+1223 12 1 16 2 
+
+1237 034 10 034 
+
+1243 020 060 094 
+
+1244 2 6 1289 12 
+1246 16 280 060 
+
+214 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+2 
+
+
+
+
+
+10 m 
+
+
+1 10 4 1 , 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+10 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1290 
+
+
+
+
+
+16 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+2 8 
+
+
+1294 
+
+
+
+
+
+16 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+2 8 
+
+
+1302 
+
+
+
+
+
+4 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+12 
+
+
+1309 
+
+
+
+
+
+7 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+
+
+1 1 6 
+
+
+1315 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+3 
+
+
+1316 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+
+
+
+1 10 6 
+
+
+4 11 6 
+
+
+
+
+1 
+
+
+12 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+2 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1317 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+14 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+2 
+
+
+13 
+
+
+
+
+
+1 19 6 
+
+
+5 18 6 
+
+
+
+
+4 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+6 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1336 
+
+
+
+
+
+2 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1338 
+
+
+
+
+
+3 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+Total 
+Average 
+
+
+10 
+23 4 11% 
+
+1 18 8 
+
+
+
+1339 9 17 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1349 
+
+
+
+
+
+2 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+5 2 
+
+
+1359 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+3 2 2 
+
+
+1361 
+
+
+
+
+
+2 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+4 8 
+
+
+1363 
+
+
+
+
+
+15 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1 15 
+
+
+1369 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+
+
+
+1 2 
+
+
+2 9 4 
+
+
+1379 
+
+
+
+
+
+4 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+9 4 
+
+
+1387 
+
+
+
+
+
+2 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+4 8 
+
+
+1390 
+
+
+
+
+
+13 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+14 
+
+
+
+
+
+14 5 
+
+
+1 13 7 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+16 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1401 
+
+
+
+
+
+16 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1 17 6 
+
+
+1407 
+
+
+
+
+
+4 
+
+
+4 3 /4 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+3 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+3 10 
+
+
+8 10 
+
+
+1416 
+
+
+
+
+
+16 
+
+
+
+
+
+Total 
+Average 
+
+
+1 12 
+15 9 4 
+1 5 9% 
+
+
+1423 
+
+
+
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1425 
+
+
+
+
+
+4 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1434 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+4 
+
+
+1435 
+
+
+
+
+
+5 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1439 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+215 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1 3 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+6 8 
+
+
+1440 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+2 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1444 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+4 
+4 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+
+4 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+
+
+
+4 8 
+
+
+1445 
+
+
+
+
+
+4 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+9 
+
+
+1447 
+
+
+
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+16 
+
+
+1448 
+
+
+
+
+
+6 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+13 4 
+
+
+1449 
+
+
+
+
+
+5 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+10 
+
+
+1451 
+
+
+
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+16 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Total 
+
+
+12 
+
+
+15 4 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Average 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+1 3 1 / 3 
+
+
+1453 
+
+
+
+
+
+5 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+10 8 
+
+
+1455 
+
+
+
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+2 4 
+
+
+1457 
+
+
+
+
+
+7 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1 
+
+
+15 4 
+
+
+1459 
+
+
+
+
+
+5 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+10 
+
+
+1460 
+
+
+
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+16 
+
+
+1463 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+2 
+1 
+
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+
+
+
+3 8 
+
+
+1464 
+
+
+
+
+
+6 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+10 
+
+
+1486 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1 
+
+
+17 
+
+
+1491 
+
+
+
+
+
+14 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+1494 
+
+
+
+
+
+4 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+6 
+
+
+
+1495 
+
+
+
+
+
+3 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+5 
+
+
+1497 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Total 
+Average 
+
+
+1 
+8 
+
+
+
+11 
+9 
+14 1 
+
+
+1499 
+
+
+
+
+
+4 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1504 
+
+
+
+
+
+5 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+8 6 
+
+
+1521 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+1551 
+
+
+
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1553 
+
+
+
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1554 
+
+
+
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1555 
+
+
+
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1556 
+
+
+
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1557 
+
+
+
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+4 
+
+
+
+
+
+17 8% 
+
+
+
+
+
+17 8% 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+5 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+2 
+
+
+13 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1558 
+
+
+
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1559 
+
+
+
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1560 
+
+
+
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+
+Total 
+Average 
+
+
+
+6 
+
+
+
+8 
+2 x h 
+10 0% 
+
+
+
+216 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+1561 8 8 PRICESOFTHE QUARTER OF NINE BUSHELSOFTHE 
+
+1562 8 8 BEST OR H IGH EST PRICED WH EAT AT WINDSOR MAR- 
+1574 2 16 KET,ON LADYDAYAND M ICH AELM AS, FROM 1595TO 
+
+140 200 200 1764BOTH IN CLUSIVE;TH E PRICEOF EACH YEAR BE- 
+
+1587 34 3 40 ING TH E M EDIUM BETWEEN TH E H IGH EST PRICES 
+
+1594 2 16 2 16 OF TH ESE TWO M ARKET DAYS. 
+
+1595 2 13 2 13 
+
+1596 4 4 
+
+1597 5 4 
+400 4 12 4 12 
+
+1598 2 16 8 2 16 8 
+
+1599 1 19 2 1 19 8 
+
+1600 1 17 8 1 17 8 
+
+1601 1 14 10 1 14 10 
+
+Total 28 9 4 
+
+Average 2 7 5 Vi 
+
+
+
+
+
+£ 
+
+
+s d 
+
+
+1595 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+
+
+
+1596 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1597 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+9 6 
+
+
+1598 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+16 8 
+
+
+1599 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+19 2 
+
+
+1600 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+17 8 
+
+
+1601 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+14 10 
+
+
+1602 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+9 4 
+
+
+1603 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+15 4 
+
+
+1604 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+10 8 
+
+
+1605 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+15 10 
+
+
+1606 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+13 
+
+
+1607 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+16 8 
+
+
+1608 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+16 8 
+
+
+1609 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+
+217 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+1610 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+15 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+1611 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1612 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+1613 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1614 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+8% 
+
+
+1615 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1616 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+
+
+
+4 
+
+
+1617 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1618 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1619 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+15 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+1620 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+
+
+26)54 
+
+
+6% 
+
+
+Average 2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 3 /4 
+
+
+1621 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+1622 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1623 
+
+
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+
+
+12 
+
+
+
+
+
+1624 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+
+1625 
+
+
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+
+
+12 
+
+
+
+
+
+1626 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+9 
+
+
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+
+
+1627 
+
+
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+
+
+16 
+
+
+
+
+
+1628 
+
+
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+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+
+1629 
+
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+
+
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+
+
+
+
+
+
+1630 
+
+
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+
+
+15 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1631 
+
+
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+
+
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+
+
+
+
+
+1632 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+13 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+1633 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+
+
+
+1634 
+
+
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+
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+
+
+
+
+
+1635 
+
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+
+
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+
+
+
+
+
+1636 
+
+
+2 
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+
+16 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+16)40 
+
+
+
+
+
+Average 2 
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+10 
+
+
+
+
+
+1637 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+13 
+
+
+
+
+
+1638 
+
+
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+
+
+17 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+1639 
+
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+
+
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+
+
+10 
+
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+1640 
+
+
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+
+
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+
+
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+
+
+1641 
+
+
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+
+
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+
+
+
+
+
+1646 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+
+1647 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+13 
+
+
+
+
+
+1648 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+
+
+
+1649 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1650 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+16 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1651 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+13 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+1652 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+9 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1653 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+15 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+
+218 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+1654 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+
+
+
+1655 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+13 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+1656 
+
+
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+
+
+3 
+
+
+
+
+
+1657 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1658 
+
+
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+
+
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+
+
+
+
+
+1659 
+
+
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+
+
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+
+
+
+
+
+1660 
+
+
+2 
+
+
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+
+
+6 
+
+
+1661 
+
+
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+
+
+10 
+
+
+
+
+
+1662 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+14 
+
+
+
+
+
+1663 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+17 
+
+
+
+
+
+1664 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1665 
+
+
+2 
+
+
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+
+
+4 
+
+
+1666 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+16 
+
+
+
+
+
+1667 
+
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+1 
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+
+
+
+
+
+1668 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1669 
+
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+2 
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+4 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+1670 
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+2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1671 
+
+
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+
+
+2 
+
+
+
+
+
+1672 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+
+
+
+1673 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1674 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1675 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1676 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1677 2 2 
+
+1678 2 19 
+
+1679 3 
+
+1680 2 5 
+
+1681 2 6 8 
+
+1682 2 4 
+
+1683 2 
+
+1684 2 4 
+
+1685 2 6 8 
+
+1686 1 14 
+
+1687 1 5 2 
+
+1688 2 6 
+
+1689 1 10 
+
+1690 1 14 8 
+
+1691 1 14 
+
+1692 2 6 8 
+
+1693 3 7 8 
+
+1694 3 4 
+
+1695 2 13 
+
+1696 3 11 
+
+1697 3 
+
+1698 3 8 4 
+
+1699 3 4 
+
+
+
+219 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+1700 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+60) 153 1 8 
+
+
+Average 2 
+
+
+11 
+
+
+1 / 3 
+
+
+1701 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+17 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1702 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+9 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1703 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+16 
+
+
+
+
+
+1704 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1705 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+
+
+
+1706 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+
+
+
+1707 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1708 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1709 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1710 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+
+
+
+1711 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+14 
+
+
+
+
+
+1712 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+1713 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+11 
+
+
+
+
+
+1714 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+1715 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+
+
+
+1716 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+
+1717 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1718 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+1719 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+15 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1720 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+17 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1721 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+17 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1722 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+16 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1723 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+14 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1724 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+17 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1725 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1726 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1727 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1728 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+14 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1729 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1730 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+16 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1731 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+12 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+1 12 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+1732 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1 6 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+1733 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+1 8 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+1734 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+1 18 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+1735 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+
+
+
+2 3 
+
+
+
+
+
+1736 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+
+
+
+4 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+1737 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+
+
+
+1 18 
+
+
+
+
+
+1738 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+15 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1 15 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1739 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1 18 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1740 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+2 10 
+10) IE 
+1 17 
+
+
+8 
+1 12 8 
+3% 
+
+
+
+220 
+
+
+
+1741 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+2 6 8 
+
+
+1742 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+14 
+
+
+
+
+
+1 14 
+
+
+1743 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+1 4 10 
+
+
+1744 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+1 4 10 
+
+
+1745 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+7 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1 7 6 
+
+
+1746 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+19 
+
+
+
+
+
+1 19 
+
+
+1747 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+14 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+1 14 10 
+
+
+1748 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+17 
+
+
+
+
+
+1 17 
+
+
+1749 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+17 
+
+
+
+
+
+1 17 
+
+
+1750 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+12 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+1 12 6 
+10) 16 18 
+1 13 9 3 / 4 
+
+
+1751 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+18 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+
+
+1752 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+
+
+1753 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+4 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+1754 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+13 
+
+
+8 
+
+
+
+
+1755 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+14 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+
+
+1756 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+5 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+
+
+1757 
+
+
+3 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1758 
+
+
+2 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1759 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+19 
+
+
+10 
+
+
+
+
+1760 
+
+
+1 
+
+
+16 
+
+
+6 
+
+
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+
+1761 
+
+
+1 10 3 
+
+
+1762 
+
+
+1 19 
+
+
+1763 
+
+
+2 9 
+
+
+1764 
+
+
+2 6 9 
+
+
+
+
+64) 129 1 
+
+
+Average 2 6 3 / 4 
+
+
+
+221 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+BOOK II 
+
+OFTHE NATURE, ACCUMULATION, 
+AND EMPLOYMENT OF STOCK 
+
+INTRODUCTION 
+
+n that rude state of society, in which thereisno division 
+of labour, in which exchangesareseldom made, and in which 
+every man provides every thing for himself, it is not neces- 
+sary that any stock should be accumulated, or stored up before- 
+hand, in order to carry on the business of the society. Everyman 
+endeavours to supply, by his own industry, his own occasional 
+wants, as they occur. When he is hungry, he goes to the forest to 
+hunt; when hiscoatisworn out, he clothes himself with the skin 
+of the first large animal he kills: and when hishutbeginstogoto 
+ruin, herepairsit, aswell ashecan, with thetreesand theturf that 
+are nearest it. 
+
+But when the division of labour has once been thoroughly in- 
+troduced, the produce of a man's own labour can supply but a 
+very small part of his occasional wants. The far greater part of 
+them aresupplied by the produce of other men's labour, which he 
+purchases with the produce, or, what is the same thing, with the 
+
+
+
+price of the produce, of his own. But this purchase cannot be 
+madetill such timeastheproduceof hisown labour hasnot only 
+been completed, but sold. A stock of goods of different kinds, 
+therefore, must be stored up somewhere, sufficient to maintain 
+him, and to supply him with the materials and toolsof his work, 
+till such time at I east as both these events can be brought about. A 
+weaver cannot apply himself entirely to his peculiar business, un- 
+less there is before-hand stored up somewhere, either in his own 
+possession, or in that of some other person, a stock sufficient to 
+maintain him, and to supply him with the materials and toolsof 
+his work, till he has not only completed, but sold his web. This 
+accumulation must evidently be previous to his applying his in- 
+dustry for so long a time to such a peculiar business. 
+
+As the accumulation of stock must, in the nature of things, be 
+previousto thedivision of labour, so labour can be more and more 
+subdivided in proportion only as stock is previously more and 
+more accumulated. The quantity of materials which the same 
+number of people can workup, increases in a great proportion as 
+labour comes to be more and more subdivided; and astheopera- 
+tionsof each workman are gradually reduced to a greater degree of 
+simplicity, a variety of new machines come to be invented for fa- 
+cilitating and abridging those operations. Asthedivision of labour 
+advances, therefore, in order to give constant employment to an 
+
+
+
+222 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+equal number of workmen, an equal stock of provisions, and a 
+greater stock of materials and tools than what would have been 
+necessary in a ruder state of things, must be accumulated before- 
+hand. But the number of workmen in every branch of business 
+generally increases with the division of labour in that branch; or 
+rather it is the increase of their number which enables them to 
+class and subdividethemselvesin this manner. 
+
+As the accumulation of stock is previously necessary for carry- 
+ing on thisgreat improvement in theproductive powers of labour, 
+so that accumulation naturally leads to this improvement. The 
+person who employs his stock in maintaining labour, necessarily 
+wishes to employ it in such a manner as to produce as great a 
+quantity of work as possible. H e endeavours, therefore, both to 
+make among his workmen the most proper distribution of em- 
+ployment, and to furnish them with the best machines which he 
+can either invent or afford to purchase. Hisabilities, in both these 
+respects, are generally in proportion to the extent of his stock, or 
+to the number of people whom it can employ. The quantity of 
+industry, therefore, not only increases in every country with the 
+increase of the stock which employs it, but, in consequence of 
+thatincrease, thesamequantity of industry producesamuch greater 
+quantity of work. 
+
+Such are in general the effects of the increase of stock upon 
+
+
+
+industry and its productive powers. 
+
+I n thefollowing book, I have endeavoured to explain thenature 
+of stock, the effects of its accumulation into capital of different 
+kinds, and theeffectsof the different employments of those capi- 
+tals. This book is divided into five chapters. In the first chapter, I 
+have endeavoured to shew what arethedifferent parts or branches 
+into which the stock, either of an individual, or of a great society, 
+naturally divides itself. In the second, I have endeavoured to ex- 
+plain thenature and operation of money, considered asa particu- 
+lar branch of the general stock of the society. T he stock which is 
+accumulated intoacapital, may either be employed bytheperson 
+to whom it belongs, or it may belent to someother person. In the 
+third and fourth chapters, I have endeavoured to examine the 
+manner in which it operates in both these situations. The fifth 
+and last chapter treats of the different effects which the different 
+employments of capital immediately produce upon the quantity, 
+both of national industry, and of the annual produce of land and 
+labour. 
+
+
+
+223 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I 
+
+OFTHE DIVISION OF STOCK 
+
+When the stock which a man possesses is no more than suffi- 
+cient to maintain him for a few days or a few weeks, he seldom 
+thinks of deriving any revenue from it. H e consumes it as spar- 
+ingly as he can, and endeavours, by his labour, to acquire some- 
+thing which may supply itsplacebeforeitbeconsumed altogether. 
+H is revenue is, in this case, derived from his labour only. This is 
+the state of the greater part of the labouring poor in all countries 
+But when he possesses stock sufficient to maintain him for 
+monthsor years, henaturally endeavours to derivea revenuefrom 
+the greater part of it, reserving only so much for his immediate 
+consumption asmay maintain him till thisrevenuebeginsto come 
+in. H is whole stock, therefore, is distinguished into two parts. 
+That part which he expects is to afford him this revenue is called 
+his capital. The other is that which supplies his immediate con- 
+sumption, and which consists either, first, in that portion of his 
+whole stock which was originally reserved for this purpose; or, 
+secondly, in hisrevenue, from whatever source derived, as it gradu- 
+ally comes in; or, thirdly, in such things as had been purchased by 
+either of these in former years, and which are not yet entirely con- 
+
+
+
+sumed, such as a stock of clothes, household furniture, and the 
+like. In oneor other, or all of these three articles, consists thestock 
+which men commonly reserve for their own immediate consump- 
+tion. 
+
+There are two different ways in which a capital may be em- 
+ployed so as to yield a revenue or profit to its employer. 
+
+First, it maybe employed in raising, manufacturing, or purchas- 
+ing goods, and selling them again with a profit. The capital em- 
+ployed in this manner yields no revenueor profit to its employer, 
+whileit either remains in his possession, orcontinuesin thesame 
+shape. T he goods of the merchant yield him no revenue or profit 
+till hesellsthem for money, and the money yieldshim aslittletill 
+it is again exchanged for goods. H is capital is continually going 
+from him in oneshape, and returning to him in another; and it is 
+only by means of such circulation, or successive changes, that it 
+can yield him any profit. Such capitals, therefore, may very prop- 
+erly be called circulating capitals. 
+
+Secondly, it may be employed in the improvement of land, in 
+the purchase of useful machines and instruments of trade, or in 
+such like things as yield a revenue or profit without changing 
+masters, or circulating any further. Such capitals, therefore, may 
+very properly be called fixed capitals. 
+
+D iff erentoccupationsrequire very different proportionsbetween 
+
+
+
+224 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+thefixed and circulating capitals employed in them. 
+
+The capital of a merchant, for example, is altogether a circulat- 
+ing capital. H e has occasion for no machines or instruments of 
+trade, unless his shop or warehouse be considered as such. 
+
+Some part of the capital of every master artificer or manufac- 
+turer must be fixed in the instruments of his trade. This part, 
+however, is very small in some, and very great in others, A master 
+tailor requiresno other instruments of tradebut a parcel of needles. 
+T hose of the master shoemaker area little, though but a very little, 
+more expensive. Those of the weaver rise a good deal above those 
+of the shoemaker. The far greater part of the capital of all such 
+master artificers, however, iscirculated either in the wages of their 
+workmen, or in the price of their materials, and repaid, with a 
+profit, by the price of the work. 
+
+In other works a much greater fixed capital is required. In a 
+great iron-work, for example, the furnace for melting the ore, the 
+forge, theslit-mill, areinstrumentsoftradewhich cannot be erected 
+without a very great expense. In coal works, and mines of every 
+kind, the machinery necessary, both for drawing out the water, 
+and for other purposes, is frequently still more expensive. 
+
+That part of the capital of the farmer which isemployed in the 
+instrumentsof agricultureisafixed, that which isemployed in the 
+wages and maintenance of his labouring servants is a circulating 
+
+
+
+capital. H e makes a profit of the one by keeping it in his own 
+possession, and of the other by parting with it. The price or value 
+of hislabouring cattleisafixed capital, in thesamemanner as that 
+of the instruments of husbandry; their maintenance is a circulat- 
+ing capital, in the same manner as that of the labouring servants. 
+Thefarmer makes his profit by keeping the labouring cattle, and 
+by parting with their maintenance. Both the price and the main- 
+tenance of the cattle which are bought in and fattened, not for 
+labour, but for sale, area circulating capital. Thefarmer makeshis 
+profit by parting with them. A flock of sheep or a herd of cattle, 
+that, in a breeding country, is brought in neither for labour nor 
+for sale, but in order to make a prof it by their wool, by their milk, 
+and by their increase, is a fixed capital. The profit is made by 
+keeping them. T heir maintenanceisa circulating capital. Theprofit 
+is made by parting with it; and it comes back with both its own 
+profit and the profit upon the whole price of the cattle, in the 
+price of the wool, the milk, and the increase. The whole value of 
+theseed, too, isproperly a fixed capital . T hough it goes backwards 
+and forwards between theground and thegranary, it never changes 
+masters, and therefore does not properly circulate. The farmer 
+makes his profit, not by its sale, but by its increase. 
+
+The general stock of any country or society is the same with 
+that of all its inhabitants or members; and, therefore, naturally 
+
+
+
+225 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+divides itself into the same three portions, each of which has a 
+distinct function or office. 
+
+The first is that portion which is reserved for immediate con- 
+sumption, and of which the characteristic is, that it affords no 
+revenue or profit. It consists in the stock of food, clothes, house- 
+hold furniture, etc. which have been purchased by their proper 
+consumers, but which are not yet entirely consumed. The whole 
+stock of mere dwelling-houses, too, subsisting at anyone time in 
+the country, make a part of thisfirst portion. Thestock that islaid 
+out in a house, if it isto be the dwelling-house of the proprietor, 
+ceases from that moment to serve in the function of a capital, or 
+to afford any revenue to its owner. A dwelling-house, as such, 
+contributes nothing to the revenue of its inhabitant; and though 
+it is, no doubt, extremely useful to him, it is as his clothes and 
+household furniture are useful to him, which, however, make a 
+part of his expense, and not of his revenue. If it isto be let to a 
+tenant for rent, as the house itself can produce nothing, thetenant 
+must always pay the rent out of some other revenue, which he 
+derives, either from labour, or stock, or land. Though a house, 
+therefore, may yield a revenueto its proprietor, and thereby serve 
+in the function of a capital to him, it cannot yield any to the 
+public, nor serve in thefunction of a capital to it, and the revenue 
+of the whole body of the people can never be in the smallest de- 
+
+
+
+greeincreased by it. Clothes and household furniture, in thesame 
+manner, sometimes yield a revenue, and thereby serve in thefunc- 
+tion of a capital to particular persons. In countries where mas- 
+querades are common, it is a trade to let out masquerade dresses 
+for a night. U pholsterers frequently let furniture by the month or 
+by the year. U ndertakers let the furniture of funerals by the day 
+and by the week. M any people let furnished houses, and get a 
+rent, not only for the use of the house, but for that of the furni- 
+ture. The revenue, however, which is derived from such things, 
+must always be ultimately drawn from some other source of rev- 
+enue. Of all parts of the stock, either of an individual or of a 
+society, reserved for immediate consumption, what is laid out in 
+houses is most slowly consumed. A stock of clothes may last sev- 
+eral years; a stock of furniture half a century or a century; but a 
+stock of houses, well built and properly taken care of, may last 
+many centuries. Though the period of their total consumption, 
+however, ismoredistant, they are still as really a stock reserved for 
+immediate consumption as either clothes or household furniture. 
+T he second of the three portions into which the general stock 
+of the society divides itself, is the fixed capital; of which the char- 
+acteristic is, that it affords a revenue or profit without circulating 
+or changing masters. It consists chiefly of the four following ar- 
+ticles. 
+
+
+
+226 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+First, of all useful machines and instruments of trade, which 
+facilitate and abridge labour. 
+
+Secondly, of all those profitable buildings which are the means 
+of procuring a revenue, not only to the proprietor who lets them 
+for a rent, but to the person who possesses them, and pays that 
+rent for them; such as shops, warehouses, work-houses, farm- 
+houses, with all their necessary buildings, stables, granaries, etc. 
+T hese are very different from mere dwelling-houses. T hey are a 
+sort of instruments of trade, and may be considered in the same 
+light. 
+
+Thirdly, of the improvements of land, of what has been profit- 
+ably laid out in clearing, draining, inclosing, manuring, and re- 
+ducing it into the condition most proper for tillage and culture. 
+An improved farm may very justly be regarded inthesamelightas 
+thoseuseful machines which facilitate and abridge labour, and by 
+means of which an equal circulating capital can afford a much 
+greater revenue to its employer. An improved farm is equally ad- 
+vantageous and more durable than any of those machines, fre- 
+quently requiring no other repairs than themost profitable appli- 
+cation of the farmer's capital employed in cultivating it. 
+
+Fourthly, of the acquired and useful abilities of all the inhabit- 
+ants and members of the society. T he acquisition of such talents, 
+bythemaintenanceoftheacquirer during hiseducation, study, or 
+
+
+
+apprenticeship, always costs a real expense, which isa capital fixed 
+and realized, asit were, in his person. Those talents, as they make 
+a part of his fortune, so do they likewise that of the society to 
+which he belongs. The improved dexterity of a workman maybe 
+considered in thesamelightasamachineor instrument of trade 
+which facilitates and abridges labour, and which, though it costsa 
+certain expense, repays that expense with a profit. 
+
+The third and last of the three portions into which the general 
+stock of thesociety naturally divides itself, is thecirculating capital, 
+of which the characteristic is, that it affordsarevenueonly by circu- 
+lating or changing masters. Itiscomposed likewise of four parts. 
+
+First, of the money, by means of which all the other three are 
+circulated and distributed to their proper consumers. 
+
+Secondly, of the stock of provisions which are in the possession 
+of the butcher, the grazier, the farmer, the corn-merchant, the 
+brewer, etc. and from the sale of which they expect to derive a 
+profit. 
+
+Thirdly, of the materials, whether altogether rude, or more or 
+less manufactured, of clothes, furniture, and building which are 
+notyetmadeup into any of those three shapes, but which remain 
+in the hands of the growers, the manufacturers, the mercers, and 
+drapers, the timber-merchants, the carpenters and joiners, the 
+brick- makers, etc. 
+
+
+
+227 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+Fourthly, and lastly, of the work which is made up and com- 
+pleted, but which isstill in the hands of the merchant and manu- 
+facturer, and not yet disposed of or distributed to the proper con- 
+sumers; such asthefinished work which we frequently find ready 
+madein theshopsof thesmith, thecabinet-maker, thegoldsmith, 
+thejeweller, thechina-merchant, etc.Thecirculating capital con- 
+sists, in this manner, of the provisions, materials, and finished 
+work of all kinds that are in the hands of their respective dealers, 
+and of the money that is necessary for circulating and distributing 
+them to those who are finally to use or to consume them. 
+
+Of these four parts, three— provisions, materials, and finished 
+work, are either annually or in a longer or shorter period, regu- 
+larly withdrawn from it, and placed either in the fixed capital, or 
+in the stock reserved for immediate consumption. 
+
+Every fixed capital is both originally derived from, and requires 
+to be continually supported by, a circulating capital. All useful 
+machines and instruments of trade are originally derived from a 
+circulating capital, which furnishes the materials of which they 
+are made, and the maintenance of the workmen who makethem. 
+They require, too, a capital of the same kind to keep them in 
+constant repair. 
+
+No fixed capital can yield any revenue but by means of a circu- 
+lating capital The most useful machines and instruments of trade 
+
+
+
+will produce nothing, without the circulating capital, which af- 
+fords the materials they are em ployed upon, and the maintenance 
+of theworkmen who employ them. Land, however improved, will 
+yield no revenue without a circulating capital, which maintains 
+the labourers who cultivate and collect its produce. 
+
+To maintain and augment the stock which maybe reserved for 
+immediate consumption, isthesoleend and purpose both of the 
+fixed and circulating capitals. It isthisstock which feeds, clothes, 
+and lodges the people. Their riches or poverty depend upon the 
+abundant or sparing supplies which those two capitals can afford 
+to the stock reserved for immediate consumption. 
+
+So great a part of the circulating capital being continually with- 
+drawn from it, in order to be placed in the other two branches of 
+the general stock of the society, it must in its turn require con- 
+tinual supplies without which it would soon cease to exist. These 
+supplies are principally drawn from three sources; the produce of 
+land, of mines, and of fish eries. These afford continual suppliesof 
+provisions and materials, of which part is afterwards wrought up 
+into finished work and by which are replaced the provisions, ma- 
+terials, and finished work, continually withdrawn from the circu- 
+lating capital. From mines, too, is drawn what is necessary for 
+maintaining and augmenting that part of it which consists in 
+money. For though, in theordinarycourseof business, this part is 
+
+
+
+228 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+not, I ike the other three, necessarily withdrawn from it, in order 
+to be placed in the other two branches of the general stock of the 
+society, it must, however, likeall other things, be wasted and worn 
+out at last, and sometimes, too, be either lost or sent abroad, and 
+must, therefore, require continual, though no doubt much smaller 
+supplies. 
+
+Lands, mines, and fisheries, require all both afixed and circulat- 
+ing capital to cultivate them; and their produce replaces, with a 
+profit not only those capitals, but all the others in the society. 
+Thusthefarmer annually replaces to the manufacturer the provi- 
+sions which he had consumed, and the materials which he had 
+wrought up the year before; and the manufacturer replaces to the 
+farmer the finished work which he had wasted and worn out in 
+the same time. This is the real exchange that is annually made 
+between those two orders of people, though it seldom happens 
+that the rude produce of the one, and the manufactured produce 
+of the other, are directly bartered for one another; because it sel- 
+dom happens that the farmer sells hiscorn and hiscattle, hisflax 
+and his wool, to the very same person of whom he chuses to pur- 
+chase the clothes, furniture, and instruments of trade, which he 
+wants. H esells, therefore, hisrudeproducefor money, with which 
+he can purchase, wherever it is to be had, the manufactured pro- 
+duce he has occasion for. Land even replaces, in part at least, the 
+
+
+
+capitals with which fisheries and mines are cultivated. It is the 
+produce of land which draws thefish from the waters; and itisthe 
+produce of the surface of the earth which extracts the minerals 
+from its bowels. 
+
+The produce of land, mines, and fisheries, when their natural 
+fertility isequal, is in proportion to theextent and proper appli- 
+cation of the capitals employed about them. W hen the capitals 
+are equal, and equally well applied, it is in proportion to their 
+natural fertility. 
+
+In all countries where there is a tolerable security, every man of 
+common understanding will endeavour to employ whatever stock 
+hecan command, in procuring either present enjoyment or future 
+profit. If it is employed in procuring present enjoyment, it is a 
+stock reserved for immediate consumption. If it is employed in 
+procuring future profit, it must procure this profit either by stay- 
+ingwithhim,orbygoingfromhim. In theonecaseit isafixed, in 
+theother it isa circulating capital. A man must be perfectly crazy, 
+who, where there is a tolerable security, does not employ all the 
+stock which he commands, whether it behisown, or borrowed of 
+other people, in some one or other of those three ways. 
+
+I nthoseunfortunatecountries, indeed, wheremen arecontinu- 
+ally afraid of the violence of their superiors, they frequently bury 
+or conceal a great part of their stock, in order to have it always at 
+
+
+
+229 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+hand to carry with them to some place of safety, in case of their 
+being threatened with any of those disasters to which they con- 
+sider themselves at all times exposed. T his is said to be a common 
+practice in Turkey, in Indostan, and, I believe, in most other gov- 
+ernmentsofAsia. Itseemsto have been a common practice among 
+our ancestors during the violence of thefeudal government. Trea- 
+sure-trove was, in these times, considered as no contemptible part 
+of therevenueof the greatest sovereigns in Europe. It consisted in 
+such treasure as was found concealed in the earth, and to which 
+no particular person could prove any right. This was regarded, in 
+those times, as so important an object, that it was always consid- 
+ered as belonging to thesovereign, and neither to thefinder nor to 
+the proprietor of theland, unlesstherighttoithad been conveyed 
+to thelatter by an express clausein hischarter. Itwasputuponthe 
+same footing with gold and silver mines, which, without a special 
+clausein the charter, were never supposed to be comprehended in 
+the general grant of the lands, though mines of lead, copper, tin, 
+and coal were, as things of smaller consequence. 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II 
+
+OF MONEY,CONSIDERED ASA PAR- 
+TICULAR BRANCH OFTHE GENERAL 
+STOCK OFTHE SOCIETY, OR OFTHE 
+EXPENSE OF MAINTAINING THE NA- 
+TION AL CAPITAL 
+
+It has been shown in the First Book, that the priceof the greater 
+part of commodities resolves itself into three parts, of which one 
+pays the wages of the labour, another the profits of the stock, and 
+a third the rent of theland which had been employed in produc- 
+ing and bringing them to market: that there are, indeed, some 
+commodities of which the price is made up of two of those parts 
+only, the wages of labour, and the profits of stock; and a very few 
+in which it consists altogether in one, the wages of labour; but 
+that the price of every commodity necessarily resolves itself into 
+some one or other, or all, of those three parts; every part of it 
+which goesneither to rent nor to wages, being necessarily profit to 
+some body. 
+
+Since thisisthe case, it has been observed, with regard to every 
+particular commodity, taken separately, it must be so with regard 
+to all thecommodities which compose thewholeannual produce 
+
+
+
+230 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+of the land and labour of every country, taken complexly. The 
+whole price or exchangeable value of that annual produce must 
+resolveitself into thesamethree parts, and be parcelled out among 
+the different inhabitants of the country, either as the wages of 
+their labour, the profits of their stock, or the rent of their land. 
+
+But though the whole value of the annual produce of the land 
+and labour of every country, is thus divided among, and consti- 
+tutesa revenueto, its different inhabitants; yet, as in the rent of a 
+private estate, we distinguish between the gross rent and the neat 
+rent, so may we likewise in the revenue of all the inhabitants of a 
+great country. 
+
+T he gross rent of a private estate comprehends whatever is paid 
+by the farmer; the neat rent, what remains free to the landlord, 
+after deducting the expense of management, of repairs, and all 
+other necessary charges; or what, without hurting his estate, he 
+can afford to place in his stock reserved for immediate consump- 
+tion, or to spend upon his table, equipage, the ornaments of his 
+house and furniture, his private enjoyments and amusements. H is 
+real wealth is in proportion, not to his gross, but to his neat rent. 
+
+T hegross revenue of all the inhabitants of a great country com- 
+prehendsthe whole annual produce of their land and labour; the 
+neat revenue, what remains free to them, after deducting the ex- 
+pense of maintaining first, their fixed, and, secondly, their circu- 
+
+
+
+lating capital, or what, without encroaching upon their capital, 
+they can place in their stock reserved for immediate consump- 
+tion, or spend upon their subsistence, conveniences, and amuse- 
+ments. Their real wealth, too, is in proportion, not to their gross, 
+but to their neat revenue. 
+
+T he whole expense of maintaining the fixed capital must evi- 
+dently be excluded from the neat revenue of the society. N either 
+the materials necessary for supporting their useful machines and 
+instruments of trade, their profitable buildings, etc. nor the pro- 
+duce of the labour necessary for fashioning those materials into 
+the proper form, can ever make any part of it. The price of that 
+labour may indeed makea part of it; as the workmen so employed 
+may place the whole value of their wages in their stock reserved 
+for immediate consumption. But in other sorts of labour, both 
+the price and the produce go to this stock; the price to that of the 
+workmen, the produce to that of other people, whose subsistence, 
+conveniences, and amusements, are augmented by the labour of 
+those workmen. 
+
+The intention of the fixed capital is to increase the productive 
+powers of labour, or to enable the same number of labourers to 
+perform a much greater quantity of work. In a farm where all the 
+necessary buildings, fences, drains, communications, etc. are in 
+the most perfect good order, the same number of labourers and 
+
+
+
+231 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+labouring cattle will raise a much greater produce, than in one of 
+equal extent and equally good ground, but not furnished with 
+equal conveniences. In manufactures, the same number of hands, 
+assisted with the best machinery, will work up a much greater 
+quantity of goodsthan with more imperfect instruments of trade. 
+The expense which is properly laid out upon a fixed capital of any 
+kind, is always repaid with great profit, and increases the annual 
+produce by a much greater value than that of the support which 
+such improvements require.Thissupport, however, still requiresa 
+certain portion of that produce. A certain quantity of materials, 
+and the labour of a certain number of workmen, both of which 
+might have been immediately employed to augment the food, 
+clothing, and lodging, the subsistence and conveniences of the 
+society, arethusdiverted to another employment, highly advanta- 
+geous indeed, but still different from this one. It is upon thisac- 
+countthatall such improvements in mechanics, asenablethesame 
+number of workmen to perform an equal quantity of work with 
+cheaper and simpler machinery than had been usual before, are 
+always regarded as advantageous to every society. A certain quan- 
+tity of materials, and thelabour of a certain number of workmen, 
+which had before been employed in supporting a more complex 
+and expensive machinery, can afterwards be applied to augment 
+the quantity of work which that or any other machinery is useful 
+
+
+
+only for performing. T he undertaker of some great manufactory, 
+who employs a thousand a-year in the maintenance of his ma- 
+chinery, if he can reduce this expense to five hundred, will natu- 
+rally employ the other five hundred in purchasing an additional 
+quantity of materials, to be wrought up by an additional number 
+of workmen. T he quantity of that work, therefore, which his ma- 
+chinery was useful only for performing, will naturally be aug- 
+mented, and with it all the advantage and conveniency which the 
+society can derive from that work. 
+
+Theexpenseof maintaining thefixed capital in a great country, 
+may very properly be compared to that of repairs in a private es- 
+tate. T he expense of repairs may frequently be necessary for sup- 
+portingtheproduceoftheestate, and consequently both thegross 
+and the neat rent of the landlord. When by a more proper direc- 
+tion, however, it can bediminished without occasioning any dimi- 
+nution of produce, the gross rent remains at least the same as be- 
+fore, and the neat rent is necessarily augmented. 
+
+But though the whole expense of maintaining the fixed capital 
+is thus necessarily excluded from theneat revenue of the society, it 
+is not the same case with that of maintaining the circulating capi- 
+tal. Of the four parts of which this latter capital is composed, 
+money, provisions, materials, and finished work, thethreelast, it 
+has already been observed, are regularly withdrawn from it, and 
+
+
+
+232 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+placed either in the fixed capital of the society, or in their stock 
+reserved for immediate consumption. Whatever portion of those 
+consumable goods is not employed in maintaining the former, 
+goes all to the latter, and makes a part of the neat revenue of the 
+society. The maintenance of those three parts of the circulating 
+capital, therefore, withdraws no portion of the annual produce 
+from the neat revenue of the society, besides what is necessary for 
+maintaining thefixed capital. 
+
+The circulating capital of a society is in this respect different 
+from that of an individual. That of an individual is totally ex- 
+cluded from making any part of his neat revenue, which must 
+consist altogether in hisprofits. But though thecirculating capital 
+of every individual makes a part of that of the society to which he 
+belongs, it isnot upon that account totally excluded from making 
+a part likewise of their neat revenue. Though the whole goods in a 
+merchant's shop must by no means be placed in his own stock 
+reserved for immediate consumption, they may in that of other 
+people, who, from a revenue derived from other funds, may regu- 
+larly replace their value to him, together with its profits, without 
+occasioning any diminution either of his capital or of theirs. 
+
+M on ey, therefore, istheonly part of thecirculating capital of a 
+society, of which the maintenance can occasion any diminution 
+in their neat revenue. 
+
+
+
+Thefixed capital, and that part of the circu latin g capital which 
+consists in money, so far as they affect the revenue of the society, 
+bear a very great resemblance to one another. 
+
+First, as those machines and instruments of trade, etc. require a 
+certain expense, first to erect them, and afterwardsto support them, 
+both which expenses, though they make a part of the gross, are 
+deductions from the neat revenue of the society; so the stock of 
+money which circulates in any country must require a certain ex- 
+pense, first to collect it, and afterwardsto support it; both which 
+expenses, though they make a part of the gross, are, in the same 
+manner, deductionsfrom theneat revenue of the society. A certain 
+quantity of very valuable materials, gold and silver, and of very cu- 
+riouslabour, instead of augmenting the stock reserved for immedi- 
+ate consumption, the subsistence, conveniences, and amusements 
+of individuals, is employed in supporting that great but expensive 
+instrument of commerce, by means of which every individual in 
+thesocietyhashissubsistence, conveniences, and amusements, regu- 
+larly distributed to him in their proper proportions. 
+
+Secondly, as the machines and instruments of trade, etc. which 
+compose the fixed capital either of an individual or of a society, 
+makeno part either of thegrossor of theneat revenueof either; so 
+money, by means of which the whole revenue of the society is 
+regularly distributed among all its different members, makesitself 
+
+
+
+233 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+no part of that revenue. The great wheel of circulation is alto- 
+gether different from the goods which are circulated by means of 
+it. The revenue of the society consists altogether in those goods, 
+and not in the wheel which circulates them. In computing either 
+the gross or the neat revenue of any society we must always, from 
+thewholeannual circulation of money and goods, deduct the whole 
+value of the money, of which not a single farthing can ever make 
+any part of either. 
+
+Itistheambiguityof language only which can make this propo- 
+sition appear either doubtful or paradoxical. When properly ex- 
+plained and understood, it is almost self-evident. 
+
+W hen we talk of any particular sum of money, we sometimes 
+mean nothing but the metal pieces of which it is composed, and 
+sometimes we include in our meaning some obscure reference to 
+the goods which can be had in exchange for it, or to the power of 
+purchasing which the possession of it conveys. Thus, when we say 
+that thecirculating money of England has been computed at eigh- 
+teen millions, we mean only to express the amount of the metal 
+pieces, which some writers have computed, or rather have sup- 
+posed, to circulate in that country. But when wesaythataman is 
+worth fifty or a hundred pounds a-year, we mean commonly to 
+express, not only the amount of the metal pieces which are annu- 
+ally paid to him, but thevalueofthegoods which hecan annually 
+
+
+
+purchase or consume; we mean commonly to ascertain what isor 
+ought to be his way of living, or the quantity and quality of the 
+necessaries and conveniences of lifein which hecan with propri- 
+ety indulge himself. 
+
+W hen, by any particular sum of money, we mean not only to 
+express the amount of the metal pieces of which it is composed, 
+but to include in its signification some obscure reference to the 
+goods which can be had in exchange for them, thewealth or rev- 
+enue which it in this case denotes, is equal only to one of the two 
+values which are thus intimated somewhat ambiguously by the 
+same word, and to the latter more properly than to the former, to 
+the money's worth more properly than to the money. 
+
+Thus, if a guinea be the weekly pension of a particular person, 
+hecan in the course of the week purchase with it a certain quan- 
+tity of subsistence, conveniences, and amusements. In propor- 
+tion asthisquantity isgreat or small, so arehisreal riches, hisreal 
+weekly revenue. His weekly revenue is certainly not equal both to 
+the guinea and to what can be purchased with it, but only to one 
+or other of those two equal values, and to the latter more properly 
+than to theformer, to the guinea's worth rather than to theguinea. 
+
+If the pension of such a person waspaidtohim, not in gold, but 
+in a weekly bill for a guinea, his revenuesurely would not so prop- 
+erly consist in the piece of paper, as in what he could get for it. A 
+
+
+
+234 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+guinea may be considered asa bill for a certain quantity of neces- 
+saries and conveniencies upon all the tradesmen in the 
+neighbourhood The revenue of the person to whom it is paid, 
+does not so properly consist in the piece of gold, asin whathecan 
+get for it, or in what he can exchange it for. If it could be ex- 
+changed for nothing, it would, like a bill upon a bankrupt, be of 
+no more value than the most useless piece of paper. 
+
+Though theweekly or yearly revenue of all thedifferent inhab- 
+itants of any country, in the same manner, may be, and in reality 
+frequently is, paid to them in money, their real riches, however, 
+the real weekly or yearly revenue of all of them taken together, 
+must always be great or small, in proportion to the quantity of 
+consumable goods which they can all of them purchase with this 
+money. The whole revenue of all of them taken together is evi- 
+dently not equal to both the money and the consumable goods, 
+but only to one or other of those two values, and to the latter 
+more properly than to the former. 
+
+Though we frequently, therefore, express a person's revenue by 
+the metal pieces which are annually paid to him, it is because the 
+amount of those pieces regulates the extent of his power of purchas- 
+ing, or the value of the goods which hecan annually afford to con- 
+sume. We still consider his revenue as consisting in this power of 
+purchasing or consuming, and not in the pieces which convey it. 
+
+
+
+But if this is sufficiently evident, even with regard to an indi- 
+vidual, it is still more so with regard to a society. The amount of 
+themetal pieces which are annually paid to an individual, isoften 
+precisely equal to his revenue, and is upon that account the short- 
+est and best expression of its value. But the amount of themetal 
+pieces which circulate in a society, can never be equal totherev- 
+enueof all itsmembers. Asthesameguinea which pays theweekly 
+pension of one man to-day, may pay that of another to-morrow, 
+and that of a third the day thereafter, the amount of the metal 
+pieces which annually circulate in any country, must always be of 
+much less value than the whole money pensions annually paid 
+with them. But the power of purchasing, or the goods which can 
+successively be bought with the whole of those money pensions, 
+as they are successively paid, must always be precisely of the same 
+valuewith those pensions; as must likewise be the revenue of the 
+different personsto whom they are paid. That revenue, therefore, 
+cannot consist in those metal pieces, of which the amount is so 
+much inferior to its value, but in the power of purchasing, in the 
+goods which can successively be bought with them as they circu- 
+late from hand to hand. 
+
+M oney, therefore, the great wheel of circulation, the great instru- 
+ment of commerce, like all other instruments of trade, though it 
+makesapart, and a very valuable part, of thecapital, makesno part 
+
+
+
+235 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+of the revenue of the society to which it belongs; and though the 
+metal pieces of which it is composed, in thecourseof their annual 
+circulation, distribute to every man the revenue which properly be 
+longs to him, they make themselves no part of that revenue. 
+
+Thirdly, and lastly, the machines and instruments of trade, etc. 
+which compose the fixed capital, bear this further resemblance to 
+that part of the circulating capital which consists in money; that 
+as every saving in the expense of erecting and supporting those 
+machines, which does not diminish the introductive powers of 
+labour, is an improvement of the neat revenue of the society; so 
+every saving in the expense of collecting and supporting that part 
+of the circu latin g capital which consists in money is an improve 
+ment of exactly the same kind. 
+
+It is sufficiently obvious, and it has partly, too, been explained 
+already, in what manner every saving in theexpenseof supporting 
+the fixed capital is an improvement of the neat revenue of the 
+society. T he whole capital of the undertaker of every work is nec- 
+essarily divided between hisfixed and hiscirculating capital. W hile 
+his whole capital remains the same, the smaller the one part, the 
+greater must necessarily be the other. It is the circulating capital 
+which furnishes the materials and wages of labour, and puts in- 
+dustry into motion. Every saving, therefore, in the expense of 
+maintaining the fixed capital, which does not diminish the pro- 
+
+
+
+ductive powers of labour, must increase the fund which puts in- 
+dustry into motion, and consequently theannual produceof land 
+and labour, the real revenue of every society. 
+
+T hesubstitution of paper in theroom of gold and silver money, 
+replaces a very expensive instrument of commerce with one much 
+less costly, and sometimes equally convenient. Circulation comes 
+to be carried on by a new wheel, which it costs less both to erect 
+and to maintain than theold one. But in what manner thisopera- 
+tion is performed, and in what manner it tends to increase either 
+the gross or the neat revenue of the society, is not altogether so 
+obvious, and may therefore require some further explication. 
+
+T here are several different sorts of paper money; but the circu- 
+lating notes of banks and bankers are the species which is best 
+known, and which seems best adapted for this purpose. 
+
+When the people of any particular country have such confi- 
+denceinthefortune, probity and prudenceof a particular banker, 
+as to believe that he is always ready to pay upon demand such of 
+his promissory notes as are likely to be at any time presented to 
+him, those notes come to have the same currency as gold and 
+silver money, from the confidence that such money can at any 
+time be had for them. 
+
+A particular banker lendsamonghiscustomershisown promis- 
+sory notes, totheextent, weshall suppose, of a hundred thousand 
+
+
+
+236 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+pounds. As those notes serve all the purposes of money, his debt- 
+ors pay him the same interest as if he had lent them so much 
+money. This interest is the source of his gain. Though some of 
+those notes are continually coming back upon him for payment, 
+part of them continueto circulate for monthsand years together. 
+Though he has generally in circulation, therefore, notes to the 
+extent of a hundred thousand pounds, twenty thousand pounds 
+in gold and silver may, frequently, be a sufficient provision for 
+answering occasional demands. By this operation, therefore, twenty 
+thousand pounds in gold and silver perform all thefunctionswhich 
+a hundred thousand could otherwise have performed. The same 
+exchanges may be made, the same quantity of consumable goods 
+may be circulated and distributed to their proper consumers, by 
+means of his promissory notes, to the value of a hundred thou- 
+sand pounds, asbyan equal valueof gold and silver money. Eighty 
+thousand poundsof gold and silver, therefore, can in this manner 
+be spared from the circulation of the country; and if different 
+operations of the the same kind should, at the same time, be car- 
+ried on by many different banks and bankers, the whole circula- 
+tion may thus be conducted with a fifth part only of the gold and 
+silver which would otherwise have been requisite. 
+
+Let us suppose, for example, that the whole circulating money 
+of some particular country amounted, at a particular time, to one 
+
+
+
+million sterling, that sum being then sufficient for circulating the 
+whole annual produce of their land and labour; let us suppose, 
+too, that some time thereafter, different banks and bankersissued 
+promissory notes payable to the bearer, to the extent of one mil- 
+lion, reserving in their different coffers two hundred thousand 
+pounds for answering occasional demands; there would remain, 
+therefore, in circulation, eight hundred thousand pounds in gold 
+and silver, and a million of bank notes, or eighteen hundred thou- 
+sand poundsof paper and money together. But the annual pro- 
+duce of the land and labour of the country had before required 
+only one million to circulate and distribute it to its proper con- 
+sumers, and that annual produce cannot be immediately aug- 
+mented by those operations of banking. ne million, therefore, 
+will besufficient to circulateit after them. Thegoodsto be bought 
+and sold being precisely the same as before, the same quantity of 
+money will be sufficient for buying and selling them. Thechannel 
+of circulation, if I may be all owed such an expression, will remain 
+precisely the same as before. Onemillion we have supposed suffi- 
+cient to fill that channel. Whatever, therefore, is poured into it 
+beyond this sum, cannot run into it, but must overflow. ne mil- 
+lion eight hundred thousand pounds are poured into it. Eight 
+hundred thousand pounds, therefore, must overflow, that sum 
+being over and above what can be employed in the circulation of 
+
+
+
+237 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+the country. But though thissum cannot be employed at home, it 
+is too valuable to be allowed to lie idle. It will, therefore, be sent 
+abroad, in order to seek that profitable employment which it can- 
+not find at home. But the paper cannot go abroad; because at a 
+distance from the banks which issue it, and from the country in 
+which payment of it can be exacted by law, it will not be received 
+in common payments. Gold and silver, therefore, to the amount 
+of eight hundred thousand pounds, will be sent abroad, and the 
+channel of home circulation will remain filled with a million of 
+paper instead of a million of those metals which filled it before. 
+
+But though so great a quantity of gold and silver is thus sent 
+abroad, we must not imagine that it is sent abroad for nothing, or 
+that its proprietors make a present of it to foreign nations. T hey 
+will exchange it for foreign goods of some kind or another, in 
+order to supply theconsumption either of someother foreign coun- 
+try, or of their own. 
+
+If they employ it in purchasing goodsin oneforeign country, in 
+order to supply the consumption of another, or in what is called 
+the carrying trade, whatever profit they make will be in addition 
+to the neat revenue of their own country. It is like a new fund, 
+created for carrying on a new trade; domestic business being now 
+transacted by paper, and the gold and silver being converted into 
+a fund for this new trade. 
+
+
+
+If they employ itin purchasing foreign goodsforhomeconsump- 
+tion, they may either, first, purchase such goods as are likely to be 
+consumed by idle people, who produce nothing, such as foreign 
+wines, foreign silks, etc.; or, secondly, they may purchase an addi- 
+tional stock of materials, tools, and provisions, in order to maintain 
+and employ an additional number of industrious people, who re- 
+produce, with a profit, thevalueof their annual consumption. 
+
+So far as it is employed in thefirst way, it promotes prodigality, 
+increases expense and consumption, without increasing produc- 
+tion, or establishing any permanent fund for supporting that ex- 
+pense, and is in every respect hurtful to the society. 
+
+So far as it is employed in thesecond way, it promotes industry; 
+and though it increases theconsumption of thesociety, it provides 
+a permanent fund for supporting that consumption; the people 
+who consume reproducing, with a profit, thewholevalueof their 
+annual consumption. The gross revenue of thesociety, theannual 
+produce of their land and labour, is increased by the whole value 
+which the labour of those workmen adds to the materials upon 
+which they are employed, and their neat revenue by what remains 
+of this value, after deducting what is necessary for supporting the 
+tools and instruments of their trade. 
+
+T hat the greater part of the gold and silver which being forced 
+abroad by thoseoperationsof banking, isemployed in purchasing 
+
+
+
+238 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+foreign goods for home consumption, is, and must be, employed 
+in purchasingthoseofthissecond kind, seems not only probable, 
+but almost unavoidable. T hough some particular men may some- 
+times increase their expense very considerably, though their rev- 
+enue does not increase at all, we maybe assured that no class or 
+order of men ever does so; because, though the principles of com- 
+mon prudence do not always govern the conduct of every indi- 
+vidual, they always influence that of the majority of every class or 
+order. But the revenue of idle people, considered as a class or or- 
+der, cannot, in the smallest degree, be increased by those opera- 
+tions of banking. Their expense in general, therefore, cannot be 
+much increased by them, though that of afewindividualsamong 
+them may, and in reality sometimesis.Thedemand of idlepeople, 
+therefore, for foreign goods, being the same, or very nearly the 
+sameas before, a very small part of the money which, beingforced 
+abroad by those operations of banking, isemployed in purchasing 
+foreign goods for home consumption, is likely to be employed in 
+purchasing those for their use. T he greater part of it will naturally 
+bedestinedfortheemploymentof industry, and not for themain- 
+tenance of idleness. 
+
+When we compute thequantity of industry which the circulating 
+capital of any society can employ, we must always have regard to 
+those parts of it only which consist in provisions, materials and fin- 
+
+
+
+ished work; the other, which consists in money, and which serves 
+only to circulatethose three, must always bededucted. In order to put 
+industry into motion, three things are requisite; materials to work 
+upon, toolsto work with, and the wages or recom pence for the sake 
+of which the work isdone. M oney is neither a material to work upon, 
+nor a tool to work with; and though the wages of the workman are 
+commonly paid to him in money, his real revenue, like that of all 
+other men, consists, not in themoney, but in the money's worth; not 
+in the metal pieces, but in what can be got for them. 
+
+The quantity of industry which any capital can employ, must 
+evidently be equal to the number of workmen whom it can sup- 
+ply with materials, tools, and a maintenancesuitableto the nature 
+of thework. M oney may be requisite for purchasing the materials 
+and toolsof thework, aswell asthe maintenance of theworkmen; 
+but thequantity of industry which the whole capital can employ, 
+is certainly not equal both to the money which purchases, and to 
+the materials, tools, and maintenance, which are purchased with 
+it, but only to one or other of those two values, and to the latter 
+more properly than to the former. 
+
+W hen paper issubstituted in theroom of gold and silver money, 
+thequantity of the materials, tools, and maintenance, which the 
+wholecirculating capital can supply, may be in creased bythewhole 
+valueof gold and silver which used to be employed in purchasing 
+
+
+
+239 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+them. Thewholevalueofthegreat wheel of circulation and distri- 
+bution isadded to thegoods which are circulated and distributed 
+by means of it. The operation, in some measure, resembles that of 
+the undertaker of some great work, who, in consequence of some 
+improvement in mechanics, takes down his old machinery, and 
+adds the difference between its price and that of the new to his 
+circulating capital, to the fund from which he furnishes materials 
+and wages to his workmen. 
+
+W hat is the proportion which thecirculati ng money of any coun- 
+try bears to the whole value of the annual produce circulated by 
+means of it, it is perhaps impossible to determine. It has been 
+computed by different authors at a fifth, at a tenth, at a twentieth, 
+and at a thirtieth, part of that value. But how small soever the 
+proportion which the circulating money may bear to the whole 
+value of the annual produce, as but a part, and frequently but a 
+small part, of that produce, is ever destined for the maintenance 
+of industry, it must always bear a very considerable proportion to 
+that part. W hen, therefore, by the substitution of paper, the gold 
+and silver necessary for circulation is reduced to, perhaps, a fifth 
+part of the former quantity, if the value of only the greater part of 
+the other four-fifths be added to the funds which are destined for 
+the maintenance of industry, it must make a very considerable 
+addition to the quantity of that industry, and, consequently, to 
+
+
+
+the value of the annual produce of land and labour. 
+
+An operation of this kind has, within these five-and-twenty or 
+thirty years, been performed in Scotland, by the erection of new 
+banking companies in almost every considerable town, and even 
+in somecountry villages. Theeffects of it have been preciselythose 
+above described. The business of the country is almost entirely 
+carried on by meansof the paper of those different banking com- 
+panies, with which purchases and paymentsof all kinds are com- 
+monly made. Silver very seldom appears, except in thechangeof a 
+twenty shilling bank note, and gold still seldomer. But though the 
+conduct of all those different companies has not been unexcep- 
+tionable, and has accordingly required an act of parliament to regu- 
+late it, the country, notwithstanding, has evidently derived great 
+benefit from their trade. I have heard it asserted, that the trade of 
+the city of G lasgow doubled in about fifteen years after the first 
+erection of the banks there; and that the trade of Scotland has 
+more than quadrupled since the first erection of the two public 
+banks at Edinburgh; of which the one, called the Bank of Scot- 
+land, was established by act of parliament in 1695, and the other, 
+called the Royal Bank, by royal charter in 1727. Whether thetrade, 
+either of Scotland in general, or of thecity of Glasgow in particu- 
+lar, has really increased in so great a proportion, during so short a 
+period, I do not pretend to know. If either of them has increased 
+
+
+
+240 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+in this proportion, it seems to be an effect too great to be ac- 
+counted for by the sole operation of thiscause. That thetradeand 
+industry of Scotland, however, have increased very considerably 
+during this period, and that the banks have contributed a good 
+deal to this increase, cannot be doubted. 
+
+Thevalueof thesilver money which circulated in Scotland be- 
+fore the Union in 1707, and which, immediately after it, was 
+brought into the Bank of Scotland, in order to be recoined, 
+amounted to £411,117: 10: 9 sterling. N o account has been got 
+of the gold coin; but it appears from the ancient accounts of the 
+mint of Scotland, that thevalueof thegold annually coined some- 
+what exceeded that of the silver. There were a good many people, 
+too, upon thisoccasion, who, from a diffidence of repayment, did 
+not bring their silver into the Bank of Scotland; and there was, 
+besides, some English coin, which was not called in. The whole 
+value of thegold and silver, therefore, which circulated in Scot- 
+land before the Union, cannot be estimated at less than a million 
+sterling. Itseemstohaveconstituted almost thewholecirculation 
+of that country; for though the circulation of the Bank of Scot- 
+land, which had then no rival, was considerable, it seems to have 
+made but a very small part of the whole. I n the present times, the 
+wholecirculation of Scotland cannot be estimated at less than two 
+millions, of which that part which consistsin gold and silver, most 
+
+
+
+probably, does not amount to half a million. But though the cir- 
+culating gold and silver of Scotland have suffered so great a dimi- 
+nution during this period, its real riches and prosperity do not 
+appear to have suffered any. Its agriculture, manufactures, and 
+trade, on the contrary, the annual produce of its land and labour, 
+have evidently been augmented. 
+
+It is chiefly by discounting bills of exchange, that is, by advanc- 
+ing money upon them before they are due, that the greater part of 
+banks and bankers issue their promissory notes. They deduct al- 
+ways, upon whatever sum they advance, the legal interest till the 
+bill shall become due. The payment of the bill, when it becomes 
+due, replaces to the bank the value of what had been advanced, 
+together with a clear profit of the interest. The banker, who ad- 
+vances to the merchant whose bill he discounts, not gold and sil- 
+ver, buthisown promissory notes, has the advantage of being able 
+to discount to a greater amount by the whole value of his promis- 
+sory notes, which hefinds, by experience, are commonly in circu- 
+lation. He is thereby enabled to make his clear gain of interest on 
+so much a larger sum. 
+
+The commerce of Scotland, which at present is not very great, 
+was still moreinconsiderablewhen thetwo first banking companies 
+were established; and those companies would have had but little 
+trade, had they confined their business to the discounting of billsof 
+
+
+
+241 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+exchange. T hey invented, therefore, another method of issuing their 
+promissory notes; by granting what they call cash accounts, that is, 
+by giving credit, to the extent of a certain sum (two or three thou- 
+sand pounds for example), to any individual who could procure 
+two personsof undoubted credit and good landed estate to become 
+surety for him, that whatever money should be advanced to him, 
+within the sum for which the credit had been given, should be re- 
+paid upon demand, together with thelegal interest. Creditsof this 
+kind are, I believe, commonly granted by banks and bankers in all 
+different parts of the world. But the easy terms upon which the 
+Scotch banking companies accept of repayment are, so far as I know, 
+peculiar to them, and have perhaps been the principal cause, both 
+of the great trade of those companies,and of the benefit which the 
+country has received from it. 
+
+W hoever has a credit of this kind with one of those companies, 
+and borrows a thousand pounds upon it, for example, may repay 
+this sum piece-meal, by twenty and thirty pounds at a time, the 
+company discounting a proportionable part of the interest of the 
+great sum, from theday on which each of those small sumsispaid 
+in, till the whole be in this manner repaid. All merchants, there- 
+fore, and almost all men of business, find it convenient to keep 
+such cash accounts with them, and are thereby interested to pro- 
+mote thetradeof those companies, by readily receiving their notes 
+
+
+
+in all payments, and by encouraging all those with whom they 
+have any influence to do the same. The banks, when their cus- 
+tomers apply to them for money, generally advance it to them in 
+their own promissory notes. T hese the merchants pay away to the 
+manufacturers for goods, the manufacturers to the farmers for 
+materials and provisions, the farmers to their landlords for rent; 
+the landlords repay them to the merchants for the conveniences 
+and luxuries with which they supply them, and the merchants 
+again return them to the banks, in order to balance their cash 
+accounts, or to replace what they my have borrowed of them; and 
+thusalmost the whole money businessofthecountryistransacted 
+by means of them. H ence the great trade of those companies. 
+
+By means of those cash accounts, every merchant can, without 
+imprudence, carry on a greater trade than he otherwise could do. 
+If there are two merchants, one in London and the other in 
+Edinburgh, who employ equal stocksin thesamebranch of trade, 
+the Edinburgh merchant can, without imprudence, carry on a 
+greater trade, and give employment to a greater number of people, 
+than the London merchant. The London merchant must always 
+keep by him a considerable sum of money, either in his own cof- 
+fers, or in those of his banker, who gives him no interest for it, in 
+order to answer the demands continually coming upon him for 
+payment of the goods which he purchases upon credit. Let the 
+
+
+
+242 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+ordinary amount of this sum be supposed five hundred pounds; 
+the value of the goods in his warehouse must always be less, by 
+five hundred pounds, than it would have been, had he not been 
+obliged to keep such a sum unemployed. Let us suppose that he 
+generally disposes of his whole stock upon hand, or of goods to 
+thevalueof his wholestock upon hand,onceintheyear. By being 
+obliged to keep so great a sum unemployed, he must sell in a year 
+five hundred pounds worth less goods than he might otherwise 
+have done. H is annual profits must be less by all that he could 
+have made by the sale of five hundred pounds worth more goods; 
+and the number of people employed in preparing his goods for 
+the market must be less by all those that five hundred pounds 
+more stock could have employed. The merchant in Edinburgh, 
+on the other hand, keeps no money unemployed for answering 
+such occasional demands. When they actually come upon him, 
+he satisfies them from hiscash account with thebank, and gradu- 
+ally replaces the sum borrowed with the money or paper which 
+comes in from the occasional sales of his goods. W ith the same 
+stock, therefore, he can, without imprudence, have at all times in 
+his warehouse a larger quantity of goods than the London mer- 
+chant; and can thereby both make a greater profit himself, and 
+give constant employment to a greater number of industrious 
+people who prepare those goods for the market. H ence the great 
+
+
+
+benefit which the country has derived from this trade. 
+
+Thefacility of discounting bills of exchange, it may bethought, 
+indeed, gives the English merchants a conveniency equivalent to 
+the cash accounts of the Scotch merchants. But the Scotch mer- 
+chants, it must be remembered, can discount their bills of ex- 
+change as easily as the English merchants; and have, besides, the 
+additional conveniency of their cash accounts. 
+
+The whole paper money of every kind which can easily circulate 
+in any country, never can exceed thevalueof the gold and silver, 
+of which it supplies theplace, or which (the commerce being sup- 
+posed thesame) would circulate there, if therewasno paper money. 
+If twenty shilling notes, for example, are the lowest paper money 
+current in Scotland, the whole of that currency which can easily 
+circulate there, cannot exceed the sum of gold and silver which 
+would benecessaryfortransactingtheannual exchanges of twenty 
+shillings value and upwards usually transacted within that coun- 
+try. Should the circulating paper at any time exceed that sum, as 
+the excess could neither be sent abroad nor be employed in the 
+circulation of the country, it must immediately return upon the 
+banks, to be exchanged for gold and silver. M any people would 
+immediately perceive that they had more of this paper than was 
+necessary for transacting their business at home; and as they could 
+not send it abroad, they would immediately demand payment for 
+
+
+
+243 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+it from the banks. When this superfluous paper was converted 
+into gold and silver, they could easily find a use for it, by sending 
+it abroad; but they could find none while it remained in theshape 
+of paper. There would immediately, therefore, be a run upon the 
+banks to the whole extent of this superfluous paper, and if they 
+showed any difficulty or backwardness in payment, to a much 
+greater extent; the alarm which this would occasion necessarily 
+increasing the run. 
+
+Over and above theexpenses which are common to every branch 
+of trade, such as the expense of house-rent, the wages of servants, 
+clerks, accountants, etc. the expenses peculiar to a bank consist 
+chiefly in two articles: first, in the expense of keeping at all times 
+in itscoffers, for answering theoccasional demandsoftheholders 
+of its notes, a large sum of money, of which it loses the interest; 
+and, secondly, in the expense of replenishing those coffers as fast 
+as they are emptied by answering such occasional demands. 
+
+A banking company which issues more paper than can be em- 
+ployed in thecirculation of thecountry, and of which theexcessis 
+continually returning upon them for payment, ought to increase 
+thequantity of gold and silver which they keep at all times in their 
+coffers, not only in proportion to this excessive increase of their 
+circulation, but in a much greater proportion; their notes return- 
+ing upon them much faster than in proportion to the excess of 
+
+
+
+their quantity. Such a company, therefore, ought to increase the 
+first article of their expense, not only in proportion to this forced 
+increase of their business, but in a much greater proportion. 
+
+The coffers of such a company, too, though they ought to be 
+filled much fuller, yet must empty themselves much faster than if 
+their business was confined within more reasonable bounds, and 
+must require not only a more violent, but a more constant and 
+uninterrupted exertion of expense, in order to replenish them, 
+Thecoin, too, which isthuscontinually drawn in such largequan- 
+titiesfrom their coffers, cannot be employed in thecirculation of 
+thecountry. Itcomesin place of a paper which isoverand above 
+what can be employed in that circulation, and is, therefore, over 
+and above what can be employed in it too. But as that coin will 
+not be allowed to lieidle, it must, in one shape or another, be sent 
+abroad, in order to find that profitableemployment which it can- 
+not find at home; and this continual exportation of gold and sil- 
+ver, by enhancing the difficulty, must necessarily enhance still far- 
+ther the expense of the bank, in finding new gold and silver in 
+order to replenish those coffers, which empty themselves so very 
+rapidly. Such a company, therefore, must in proportion to this 
+forced increaseof their business, in crease the second article of their 
+expense still more than thefirst. 
+
+Let ussuppose that all thepaper of a particular bank, which the 
+
+
+
+244 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+circulation of the country can easily absorb and employ amounts 
+exactly to forty thousand pounds, and that, for answering occa- 
+sional demands, this bank is obliged to keep at all times in its 
+coffers ten thousand pounds in gold and silver. Should this bank 
+attempt to circulate forty- four thousand pounds, the four thou- 
+sand pounds which are over and above what the circulation can 
+easily absorb and employ, will return upon it almost as fast as they 
+areissued. For answering occasional demands, therefore, thisbank 
+oughtto keep at all timesin its coffers, not eleven thousand pounds 
+only, but fourteen thousand pounds. It will thus gain nothing by 
+theinterestof thefour thousand poundsexcessivecirculation; and 
+it will lose the whole expense of continually collecting four thou- 
+sand pounds in gold and silver, which will be continually going 
+out of its coffers as fast as they are brought into them. 
+
+H ad every particular banking company always understood and 
+attended to its own particular interest, the circulation never could 
+have been overstocked with paper money. But every particular 
+banking company has not always understood or attended to its 
+own particular interest, and the circulation has frequently been 
+overstocked with paper money. 
+
+By issuing too great a quantity of paper, of which the excess was 
+continually returning, in order to be exchanged for gold and sil- 
+ver, the Bank of England was for many years together obliged to 
+
+
+
+coin gold to the extent of between eight hundred thousand pounds 
+and a million a-year; or, at an average, about eight hundred and 
+fifty thousand pounds. For this great coinage, the bank (inconse- 
+quence of the worn and degraded state into which the gold coin 
+had fallen a few years ago) was frequently obliged to purchase 
+gold bullion at the high price of four pounds an ounce, which it 
+soon after issued in coin at £3:17:10 1/2 an ounce, losing in this 
+manner between two and a half and threeper cent, upon thecoin- 
+age of so very large a sum. T hough the bank, therefore, paid no 
+seignorage, though thegovernment wasproperly at the expense of 
+this coinage, this liberality of government did not prevent alto- 
+gether the expense of the bank. 
+
+TheScotch banks, in consequenceof an excess of thesamekind, 
+were all obliged to employ constantly agents at London to collect 
+money for them, at an expense which was seldom below one and 
+a half or two per cent. T his money was sent down by the waggon, 
+and insured by the carriers at an additional expense of three quar- 
+ters per cent, or fifteen shillings on the hundred pounds. Those 
+agents were not always able to replenish the coffers of their em- 
+ployers so fast as they were emptied. I n this case, the resource of 
+thebankswas, to draw upon their correspondents in London bills 
+of exchange, to the extent of the sum which they wanted. W hen 
+those correspondents afterwards drew upon them for the payment 
+
+
+
+245 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+of this sum, together with the interest and commission, some of 
+those banks, from the distress into which their excessive circula- 
+tion had thrown them, had sometimes no other means of satisfy- 
+ing thisdraught, but by drawing a second set of bills, either upon 
+thesame, or upon some other correspondents in London; and the 
+samesum, or rather billsfor the samesum, would in thismanner 
+make sometimes more than two or three journeys; thedebtor bank 
+paying always the interest and commission upon the whole accu- 
+mulated sum. Even those Scotch bankswhich never distinguished 
+themselves by thei r extreme i mprudence, were someti mes obliged 
+to employ this ruinous resource. 
+
+The gold coin which was paid out, either by the Bank of En- 
+gland or by the Scotch banks, in exchange for that part of their 
+paper which was over and above what could be employed in the 
+circulation of the country, being likewise over and above what 
+could be employed in that circulation, was sometimes sent abroad 
+in the shape of coin, sometimes melted down and sent abroad in 
+the shape of bullion, and sometimes melted down and sold to the 
+Bank of England at the high priceof four poundsan ounce. It was 
+thenewest, theheaviest, and thebest piecesonly, which were care- 
+fully picked out of the wholecoin, and either sent abroad or melted 
+down. At home, and while they remained in the shape of coin, 
+thoseheavy pieces were of no morevaluethan thelight; but they 
+
+
+
+were of more value abroad, or when melted down into bullion at 
+home. The Bank of England, notwithstanding their great annual 
+coinage, found, to their astonishment, that there was every year 
+the same scarcity of coin as there had been the year before; and 
+that, notwithstanding the great quantity of good and new coin 
+which was every year issued from the bank, the state of the coin, 
+instead of growing better and better, became every year worse and 
+worse. Every year they found themselves under the necessity of 
+coining nearly the same quantity of gold as they had coined the 
+year before; and from the continual rise in the price of gold bul- 
+lion, in consequence of thecontinual wearing and clipping of the 
+coin, the expense of this great annual coinage became, every year, 
+greater and greater. The Bank of England, it is to be observed, by 
+supplying its own coffers with coin, isindirectly obliged to supply 
+the whole kingdom, into which coin is continually flowing from 
+those coffers in a great variety of ways. W hatever coin, therefore, 
+was wanted to support this excessive circulation both of Scotch 
+and English paper money, whatever vacuities thisexcessive circu- 
+lation occasioned in the necessary coin of the kingdom, the Bank 
+of England was obliged to supply them. The Scotch banks, no 
+doubt, paid all of them very dearly for their own imprudence and 
+inattention: but the Bank of England paid very dearly, not only 
+for its own imprudence, but for the much greater imprudence of 
+
+
+
+246 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+almost all the Scotch banks. 
+
+The over-trading of some bold projectors in both parts of the 
+united kingdom, was the original cause of this excessive circula- 
+tion of paper money. 
+
+W hat a bank can with propriety advance to a merchant or un- 
+dertaker of any kind, isnot either thewholecapital with which he 
+trades, or even any considerable part of that capital; but that part 
+of it only which he would otherwise be obliged to keep by him 
+unemployed and in ready money, for answering occasional de- 
+mands. If the paper money which the bank advances never ex- 
+ceeds this value, it can never exceed thevalueof thegold and silver 
+which would necessarily circulate in the country if there was no 
+paper money; it can never exceed the quantity which the circula- 
+tion of the country can easily absorb and employ. 
+
+W hen a bank discounts to a merchant a real bill of exchange, 
+drawn by a real creditor upon a real debtor, and which, as soon as 
+it becomes due, is really paid by that debtor; it only advances to 
+him apart of the value which he would otherwise be obliged to 
+keep by him unemployed and in ready money, for answering oc- 
+casional demands. The payment of the bill, when it becomes due, 
+replaces to the bank the value of what it had advanced, together 
+with the interest. T he coffers of the bank, so far as its dealings are 
+confined to such customers, resemble a water-pond, from which, 
+
+
+
+though a stream is continually running out, yet another is con- 
+tinually running in, fully equal to that which runs out; so that, 
+without any further care or attention, the pond keeps always 
+equally, or very near equally full. Littleor no expense can ever be 
+necessary for replenishing the coffers of such a bank. 
+
+A merchant, without over-trading, may frequently have occa- 
+sion for a sum of ready money, even when he has no bills to dis- 
+count. When a bank, besides discounting his bills, advances him 
+likewise, upon such occasions, such sums upon hiscash account, 
+and accepts of a piece-meal repayment, as the money comes in 
+from the occasional sale of his goods, upon the easy terms of the 
+banking companies of Scotland; it dispenses him entirely from 
+the necessity of keeping any part of his stock by him unemployed 
+and in ready money for answering occasional demands. When 
+such demands actually come upon him, he can answer them suf- 
+ficiently from his cash account. The bank, however, in dealing 
+with such customers, ought to observe with great attention, 
+whether, in the course of some short period (of four, five, six, or 
+eight months, for example), the sum of the repayments which it 
+commonly receives from them, is, or isnot, fully equal to that of 
+the advances which it commonly makes to them. If, within the 
+course of such short periods, the sum of the repayments from 
+certain customers is, upon most occasions, fully equal to that of 
+
+
+
+247 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+the advances, it may safely continue to deal with such customers. 
+Though the stream which is in this case continually running out 
+from its coffers may be very large, that which is continually run- 
+ning into them must beat least equally large, so that, without any 
+further careor attention, thosecoffers arelikely to be always equally 
+or very near equally full, and scarce ever to require any extraordi- 
+nary expense to replenish them. If, on thecontrary, thesum of the 
+repayments from certain other customers, falls commonly very 
+much short of the advances which it makes to them, it cannot 
+with any safety continue to deal with such customers, at least if 
+they continue to deal with itin thismanner.Thestream which is 
+in this case continually running out from itscoffers, isnecessarily 
+much larger than that which is continually running in; so that, 
+unless they are replenished by some great and continual effort of 
+expense, those coffers must soon be exhausted altogether. 
+
+The banking companies of Scotland, accordingly, were for a 
+long time very careful to require frequent and regular repayments 
+from all their customers, and did not care to deal with any person, 
+whatever might be his fortune or credit, who did not make, what 
+they called, frequent and regular operations with them. By this 
+attention, besides saving almost en ti rely theextraordinary expense 
+of replenishing their coffers, they gained two other very consider- 
+able advantages. 
+
+
+
+First, by this attention they were enabled to make some toler- 
+ablejudgment concerning thethriving or declining circumstances 
+of their debtors, without being obliged to look out for any other 
+evidence besides what their own books afforded them; men being, 
+for the most part, either regular or irregular in their repayments, 
+according as their circumstances are either thriving or declining. 
+Aprivateman wholendsouthismoneytoperhapshalfadozenor 
+a dozen of debtors, may, either by himself or his agents, observe 
+and inquire both constantly and carefully into the conduct and 
+situation of each of them. But a banking company, which lends 
+money to perhaps fivehundred different people, and of which the 
+attention is continually occupied by objects of a very different 
+kind, can have no regular information concerning the conduct 
+and circumstances of the greater part of itsdebtors, beyond what 
+its own books afford it. In requiring frequent and regular repay- 
+ments from all their customers, the banking companies of Scot- 
+land had probably this advantage in view. 
+
+Secondly, by this attention they secured themselves from the 
+possibility of issuing more paper money than what thecirculation 
+of the country could easily absorb and employ. When they ob- 
+served, that within moderate periods of time, the repayments of a 
+particular customer were, upon most occasions, fully equal to the 
+advanceswhich they had madeto him, they might be assured that 
+
+
+
+248 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+thepaper money which they had advanced to him had not, at any 
+time, exceeded the quantity of gold and silver which he would 
+otherwise have been obliged to keep by him for answering occa- 
+sional demands; and that, consequently, thepaper money, which 
+they had circulated by his means, had not at any time exceeded 
+the quantity of gold and silver which would have circulated in the 
+country, had there been no paper money. The frequency, regular- 
+ity, and amount of hisrepayments, would sufficiently demonstrate 
+that the amount of their advances had at no time exceeded that 
+part of his capital which hewouldotherwisehavebeen obliged to 
+keep by him unemployed, and in ready money, for answering oc- 
+casional demands; that is, for the purpose of keeping the rest of 
+his capital in constant employment. It is this part of his capital 
+only which, within moderate periods of time, is continually re 
+turning to every dealer in the shape of money, whether paper or 
+coin, and continually going from him in the same shape. If the 
+advances of the bank had commonly exceeded this part of his 
+capital, theordinary amount of hisrepayments could not, within 
+moderate periods of time, have equalled the ordinary amount of 
+its advances. The stream which, by means of his dealings, was 
+continually running into the coffers of the bank, could not have 
+been equal to the stream which, by means of the same dealings 
+was continually running out. T he advances of the bank paper, by 
+
+
+
+exceeding the quantity of gold and silver which, had there been 
+no such advances, hewould have been obliged to keep by him for 
+answering occasional demands, might soon come to exceed the 
+whole quantity of gold and silver which ( the commerce being 
+supposed the same ) would have circulated in the country, had 
+there been no paper money; and, consequently, to exceed thequan- 
+tity which the circulation of the country could easily absorb and 
+employ; and the excess of this paper money would immediately 
+have returned upon the bank, in order to be exchanged for gold 
+and silver. This second advantage, though equally real, was not, 
+perhaps, so well understood by all the different banking compa- 
+nies in Scotland asthefirst. 
+
+When, partly by theconveniency of discounting bills, and partly 
+by that of cash accounts, the creditable traders of any country can 
+be dispensed from the necessity of keeping any part of their stock 
+by them unemployed, and in ready money, for answering occa- 
+sional demands, they can reasonably expect no farther assistance 
+from hanks and bankers, who, when they have gone thus far, can- 
+not, consistently with their own interest and safety, go farther. A 
+bank cannot, consistently with its own interest, advance to a trader 
+the whole, or even the greater part of the circulating capital with 
+which he trades; because, though that capital is continually re- 
+turning to him in theshapeof money, and going from him in the 
+
+
+
+249 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+same shape, yet the whole of the returns is too distant from the 
+whole of the outgoings, and the sum of his repayments could not 
+equal the sum of his advances within such moderate periods of 
+time as suit the conveniency of a bank. Still less could a bank 
+afford to advance him any considerable part of hisfixed capital; of 
+the capital which the undertaker of an iron forge, for example, 
+employsin erecting hisforge and smelting-houses, hiswork-houses, 
+and warehouses, thedwelling-housesof hisworkmen, etc.; of the 
+capital which the undertaker of a mine employs in sinking his 
+shafts, in erecting engines for drawing out the water, in making 
+roadsand waggon-ways, etc.; of thecapital which the person who 
+undertakes to improve land employsin clearing, draining, inclos- 
+ing, manuring, and ploughing waste and uncultivated fields; in 
+buildingfarmhouses, with all their necessary appendagesof stables, 
+granaries, etc. The returns of the fixed capital are, in almost all 
+cases, much slower than thoseof the circu latin g capital: and such 
+expenses, even when laid out with thegreatest prudence and judg- 
+ment, very seldom return to the undertaker till after a period of 
+many years, a period by far too distant to suit the conveniency of 
+a bank. Traders and other undertakers may, no doubt with great 
+propriety, carry on a very considerable part of their projects with 
+borrowed money. In justice to their creditors, however, their own 
+capital ought in thiscaseto be sufficient to insure, if I may say so, 
+
+
+
+thecapital of those creditors; or to render it extremely improbable 
+that those creditors should incurany loss, even though thesuccess 
+of theproject should fall verymuch short of the expectation of the 
+projectors. Even with this precaution, too, themoney which isbor- 
+rowed, and which it is meant should not be repaid till after a period 
+of several years, ought not to be borrowed of a bank, but ought to 
+be borrowed upon bond or mortgage, of such private people as 
+propose to liveupon theinterest of theirmoney, without takingthe 
+trouble themselves to employ thecapital, and who are, upon that 
+account, willing to lend that capital to such peopleof good credit as 
+arelikelyto keep itfor several years. A bank, indeed, which lendsits 
+money without the expense of stamped paper, or of attorneys' fees 
+for drawing bonds and mortgages, and which accepts of repayment 
+upon the easy terms of the banki ng companies of Scotland, would, 
+no doubt, be a very convenient creditor to such traders and under- 
+takers. But such traders and undertakers would surely be most in- 
+convenient debtors to such a bank. 
+
+1 1 is now more than five and twenty years sincethe paper money 
+issued by the different banking companies of Scotland was fully 
+equal, or rather was somewhat more than fully equal, to what the 
+circulation of the country could easily absorb and employ. Those 
+companies, therefore, had so long ago given all the assistance to 
+thetradersand other undertakers of Scotland which it is possible 
+
+
+
+250 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+for banks and bankers, consistently with their own interest, to 
+give. They had even done somewhat more. They had over-traded 
+a little, and had brought upon themselves that loss, or at least that 
+diminution of profit, which, in this particular business, never fails 
+to attend the smallest degree of over-trading. Those traders and 
+other undertakers, having got so much assistance from banks and 
+bankers, wished to get still more. The banks, they seem to have 
+thought, could extend their credits to whatever sum might be 
+wanted, without incurring any other expense besidesthat of a few 
+reamsof paper.They complained of thecontracted views and das- 
+tardly spirit of the directors of those banks, which did not, they 
+said, extend their credits in proportion to the extension of the 
+trade of the country; meaning, no doubt, by the extension of that 
+trade, the extension of their own projects beyond what they could 
+carry on either with their own capital, or with what they had credit 
+to borrow of private people i n the usual way of bond or mortgage. 
+The banks, they seem to have thought, werein honour bound to 
+supply the deficiency, and to provide them with all the capital 
+which they wanted to trade with. T he banks, however, were of a 
+different opinion; and upon their refusing to extend their credits, 
+some of those traders had recourse to an expedient which, for a 
+time, served their purpose, though at a much greater expense, yet 
+as effectually as the utmost extension of bank credits could have 
+
+
+
+done. This expedient was no other than the well known shift of 
+drawing and redrawing; the shift to which unfortunate traders 
+have sometimes recourse, when they are upon the brink of bank- 
+ruptcy. The practice of raising money in this manner had been 
+long known in England; and, during the course of the late war, 
+when thehigh profitsof tradeafforded a great temptation to over- 
+trading, is said to have been carried on to a very great extent. 
+From England it wasbrought into Scotland, where, in proportion 
+to the very limited commerce, and to the very moderate capital of 
+the country, it was soon carried on to a much greater extent than 
+it ever had been in England. 
+
+The practice of drawing and redrawing is so well known to all 
+men of business, that it may, perhaps, bethought unnecessary to 
+give any account of it. But as this book may come into the hands 
+of many people who are not men of business, an das the effects of 
+this practice upon the banking trade are not, perhaps, generally 
+understood, even by men of business themselves, I shall endeav- 
+our to explain it as distinctly as I can. 
+
+The customs of merchants, which were established when the 
+barbarouslawsof Europedid not enforce the performance of their 
+contracts, and which, during thecourse of thetwo last centuries, 
+have been adopted into the laws of all European nations, have 
+given such extraordinary privileges to billsof exchange, that money 
+
+
+
+251 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+is more readily advanced upon them than upon any other species 
+of obligation; especially when they are made payable within so 
+short a period as two or three monthsafter their date. If, when the 
+bill becomes due, the acceptor does not pay it as soon as it is 
+presented, he becomes from that moment a bankrupt. The bill is 
+protested, and returns upon the drawer, who, if he does not im- 
+mediately pay it, becomes likewise a bankrupt. If, before it came 
+to the person who presents it to the acceptor for payment, it had 
+passed through the hands of several other persons, who had suc- 
+cessively advanced to one another the contents of it, either in money 
+or goods, and who, to express that each of them had in his turn 
+received those contents, had all of them in their order indorsed, 
+that is, written their names upon the back of the bill; each in- 
+dorser becomes in histurn liableto theowner of the bill for those 
+contents, and, if he fails to pay, he becomes too, from that mo- 
+ment, a bankrupt. Though the drawer, acceptor, and indorsersof 
+the bill, should all of them be persons of doubtful credit; yet, still 
+the shortness of the date gives some security to the owner of the 
+bill. Though all of them may be very likely to become bankrupts, 
+itisachanceif they all becomeso in so short a time. The house is 
+crazy, says a weary traveller to himself, and will not stand very 
+long; but it isachanceif itfallsto-night, and I will venture, there- 
+fore, to sleep in it to-night. 
+
+
+
+ThetraderA in Edinburgh, weshall suppose, drawsa bill upon 
+B in London, payabletwo monthsafter date. In reality B in Lon- 
+don owesnothingtoA in Edinburgh; but he agrees to accept of A 
+'sbill, upon condition, that before the term of payment he shall 
+redraw upon A in Edinburgh for the same sum, together with the 
+interest and a commission, another bill, payable likewise two 
+months after date. B accordingly, before theexpiration of thefirst 
+two months, redraws this bill upon A in Edinburgh; who, again 
+before the expiration of the second two months, draws a second 
+bill upon B in London, payable likewise two monthsafter date; 
+and before the expiration of the third two months, B in London 
+redrawsupon A in Edinburgh another bill payable also two months 
+after date. This practice has sometimes gone on, not only for sev- 
+eral months, but for several years together, the bill always return- 
+ing upon A in Edinburgh with the accumulated interest and com- 
+mission of all the former bills. The interest was five per cent, in 
+the year, and the commission was never less than one half per 
+cent, on each draught. Thiscommission being repeated more than 
+sixtimesin theyear, whatever money A might raise by this expe- 
+dient might necessarily have cost him something more than eight 
+per cent, in theyear and sometimesa great deal more, when either 
+the price of the commission happened to rise, or when he was 
+obliged to pay compound interest upon the interest and commis- 
+
+
+
+252 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+sion of former bills. This practice was called raising money by 
+circulation. 
+
+In a country where the ordinary profits of stock, in the greater 
+part of mercantile projects, are supposed to run between six and 
+ten per cent, it must have been a very fortunate speculation, of 
+which the returns could not only repay the enormous expense at 
+which the money was thus borrowed for carrying it on, but af- 
+ford, besides, a good surplus profit to the projector. M any vast 
+and extensive projects, however, were undertaken, and for several 
+years carried on, without any other fund to support them besides 
+whatwasraised atthisenormousexpenseTheprojectors, no doubt, 
+had in their golden dreams the most distinct vision of this great 
+profit. U pon their awakening, however, either at the end of their 
+projects, or when they were no longer able to carry them on, they 
+very seldom, I believe, had thegood fortuneto find it. 
+
+{The method described in the text was by no means either the 
+most common or the most expensive one in which those adven- 
+turers sometimes raised money by circulation. It frequently hap- 
+pened, that A in Edinburgh would enable B in London to pay the 
+first bill of exchange, by drawing, a few days before it became due, 
+a second bill at three months date upon the same B in London. 
+T his bill, being payable to hisown order, A sold in Edinburgh at 
+par; and with its contents purchased bills upon London, payable 
+
+
+
+at sight to the order of B, to whom he sent them by the post. 
+Towardstheend of thelate war, theexchange between Edinburgh 
+and London was frequently three per cent, against Edinburgh, 
+and those bills at sight must frequently have cost A that premium. 
+This transaction, therefore, being repeated at least four times in 
+theyear, and being loaded with a commission of at least one half 
+percent, upon each repetition, must at that period have cost A, at 
+least, fourteen per cent, in theyear. At other timesA would enable 
+to discharge the first bill of exchange, by drawing, a few days be- 
+fore it becamedue, a second bill at two months date, not upon B, 
+but upon some third person, C, for example, in London. This 
+other bill wasmadepayabletotheorderof B, who, upon its being 
+accepted by C, discounted itwithsomebankerin London; and A 
+enabled C to discharge it, by drawing, afew day's before it became 
+due, athird bill likewise at two monthsdate, sometimesupon his 
+first correspondent B, and sometimesupon some fourth or fifth 
+person, D or E, for example. This third bill was made payable to 
+the order of C , who, as soon as it was accepted, discounted it in 
+the same manner with some banker in London. Such operations 
+being repeated at least six times in theyear, and being loaded with 
+a commission of at least one half per cent, upon each repetition, 
+together with the legal interest of five per cent, this method of 
+raising money, in the same manner as that described in the text, 
+
+
+
+253 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+must have cost A something more than eight per cent. By saving, 
+however, the exchange between Edinburgh and London, it was 
+less expensive than that mentioned in the foregoing part of this 
+note; but then it required an established credit with more houses 
+than onein London, an ad vantage which many of these adventur- 
+ers could not always find it easy to procure.} 
+
+The bills which A in Edinburgh drew upon B in London, he 
+regularly discounted two months before they were due, with some 
+bank or banker in Edinburgh; and the bills which B in London 
+redrew upon A in Edinburgh, he as regularly discounted, either 
+with the Bank of England, or with someother banker in London. 
+Whatever was advanced upon such circulating bills was in 
+Edinburgh advanced in the paper of the Scotch banks; and in 
+London, when they were discounted at the Bank of England in 
+the paper of that bank. Though the bills upon which this paper 
+had been advanced were all of them repaid in their turn as soon as 
+they became due, yet the value which had been really advanced 
+upon the first bill was never really returned to the banks which 
+advanced it; because, before each bill became due, another bill 
+was always drawn to somewhat a greater amount than the bill 
+which was soon to be paid: and the discounting of this other bill 
+was essentially necessary towards the payment of that which was 
+soon to bedue. This payment, therefore, was altogether fictitious. 
+
+
+
+Thestream which, by meansof those circulating billsof exchange, 
+had oncebeen madeto run out from the coffers of the banks, was 
+never replaced by any stream which really ran into them. 
+
+The paper which was issued upon those circulating bills of ex- 
+change amounted, upon many occasions, to the whole fund des- 
+tined for carrying on some vast and extensive project of agricul- 
+ture, commerce, or manufactures; and not merely to that part of 
+it which, had there been no paper money, the projector would 
+have been obliged to keep by him unemployed, and in ready money, 
+for answering occasional demands. T he greater part of this paper 
+was, consequently, over and above the value of the gold and silver 
+which would have circulated in the country, had there been no 
+paper money. It was over and above, therefore, what the circula- 
+tion of thecountry could easily absorb and employ, and upon that 
+account, immediately returned upon the banks, in order to be 
+exchanged for gold and silver, which they were to find as they 
+could. It was a capital which those projectors had very artfully 
+contrived to draw from those banks, not only without their knowl- 
+edge or deliberate consent, but for some time, perhaps, without 
+their having the most distant suspicion that they had really ad- 
+vanced it. 
+
+When two people, who are continually drawing and redrawing 
+upon oneanother, discounttheir billsalwayswith thesamebanker, 
+
+
+
+254 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+hemustimmediately discover what they are about, and see clearly 
+that they are trading, not with any capital of their own, but with 
+the capital which he advances to them. But this discovery is not 
+altogether so easy when they discount their bills sometimes with 
+onebanker, and sometimes with another, and when thetwosame 
+persons do not constantly draw and redraw upon one another, 
+but occasionally run theround of a great circle of projectors, who 
+find it for their interest to assist one another in this method of 
+raising money and to render it, upon that account, as difficult as 
+possible to distinguish between a real and a fictitious bill of ex- 
+change, between a bill drawn by a real creditor upon a real debtor, 
+and a bill for which there was properly no real creditor but the 
+bank which discounted it, nor any real debtor but the projector 
+who made use of the money. When a banker had even made this 
+discovery, he might sometimes make it too late, and might find 
+that he had already discounted the bills of those projectors to so 
+great an extent, that, by refusing to discount any more, he would 
+necessarily make them all bankrupts; and thus by ruining them, 
+might perhaps ruin himself. Forhisown interest and safety, there- 
+fore, he might find it necessary, in this very perilous situation, to 
+go on for sometime, endeavouring, however, to withdraw gradu- 
+ally, and, upon that account, making every day greater and greater 
+difficulties about discounting, in order to force these projectors 
+
+
+
+by degrees to have recourse, either to other bankers, or to other 
+methodsof raising money: so as that hehimself might, as soon as 
+possible, get out of the circle. The difficulties, accordingly, which 
+theBankof England, which theprincipal bankersin London, and 
+which even the more prudent Scotch banks began, after a certain 
+time, and when all of them had already gone too far, to make 
+about discounting, not only alarmed, but enraged, in the highest 
+degree, those projectors. T heir own distress, of which thisprudent 
+and necessary reserve of the banks was, no doubt, the immediate 
+occasion, they called the distress of the country; and this distress 
+of the country, they said, was altogether owing to the ignorance, 
+pusillanimity, and bad conduct of the banks, which did notgivea 
+sufficiently liberal aid to the spirited undertakings of those who 
+exerted themselves in order to beautify, improve, and enrich the 
+country. It was the duty of the banks, they seemed to think, to 
+lend for as long a time, and to as great an extent, as they might 
+wish to borrow. The banks, however, by refusing in this manner 
+to give more credit to those to whom they had already given a 
+great deal too much, took the only method by which it was now 
+possible to save either their own credit, or the public credit of the 
+country. 
+
+I n the midst of this clamour and distress, a new bank was estab- 
+lished in Scotland, for theexpress purpose of relieving thedistress 
+
+
+
+255 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+of the country. The design was generous; but the execution was 
+imprudent, and thenatureand causes of the distress which it meant 
+to relieve, werenot, perhaps, well understood. Thisbank wasmore 
+liberal than any other had ever been, both in granting cash-ac- 
+counts, and in discounting bills of exchange. With regard to the 
+latter, it seems to have made scarce any distinction between real 
+and circulating bills, but to have discounted all equally. It was the 
+avowed principle of this bank to advance upon any reasonable 
+security, the whole capital which was to be employed in those 
+improvements of which the returns are the most slow and distant, 
+such astheimprovementsof land. To promotesuch improvements 
+was even said to be the chief of the public-spirited purposes for 
+which it was instituted. By itsliberality in granting cash-accounts, 
+and in discounting bills of exchange, it, no doubt, issued great 
+quantitiesofitsbank notes. But those bank notesbeing, thegreater 
+part of them, over and above what the circulation of the country 
+could easily absorb and employ, returned upon it, in order to be 
+exchanged for gold and silver, as fast as they were issued. Its cof- 
+fers were never well filled. The capital which had been subscribed 
+to thisbank, at two different subscriptions, amounted to onehun- 
+dred and sixty thousand pounds, of which eighty per cent, only 
+was paid up.Thissum ought to have been paid in at several differ- 
+ent instalments. A great part of the proprietors, when they paid in 
+
+
+
+their first instalment, opened a cash-account with the bank; and 
+the directors, thinking themselves obliged to treat their own pro- 
+prietors with the same liberality with which they treated all other 
+men, allowed many of them to borrow upon this cash-account 
+what they paid in upon all their subsequent instalments. Such 
+payments, therefore, only put into one coffer what had the mo- 
+ment before been taken out of another. But had the coffers of this 
+bank been filled ever so well, its excessive circulation must have 
+emptied them faster than they could have been replenished by any 
+other expedient but the ruinous one of drawing upon London; 
+and when the bill became due, paying it, together with interest 
+and commission, by another draught upon the same place. Its 
+coffers having been filled so very ill, it is said to have been driven 
+to this resource within a very few months after it began to do 
+business. The estates of the proprietors of this bank were worth 
+several millions, and, by their subscription to theoriginal bond or 
+contract of the bank, were really pledged for answering all its en- 
+gagements. By means of the great credit which so great a pledge 
+necessarily gave it, it was, notwithstanding its too liberal conduct, 
+enabled to carry on business for more than two years. When it was 
+obliged to stop, it had in the circulation abouttwo hundred thou- 
+sand pounds in banknotes. In order to support the circulation of 
+those notes, which were continually returning upon it as fast as 
+
+
+
+256 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+they were issued, it had been constantly in thepractice of drawing 
+bills of exchange upon London, of which the number and value 
+were continually increasing, and, when itstopt, amounted to up- 
+wardsof six hundred thousand pounds.Thisbank, therefore, had, 
+in little more than the course of two years, advanced to different 
+people upwards of eight hundred thousand pounds at five per 
+cent. U pon thetwo hundred thousand pounds which it circulated 
+in banknotes, thisfive per cent, might perhaps be considered as a 
+clear gain, without any other deduction besides the expense of 
+management. But upon upwardsof six hundred thousand pounds, 
+for which it wascontinually drawing billsof exchangeupon Lon- 
+don, it was paying, in the way of interest and commission, up- 
+wards of eight per cent, and was consequently losing more than 
+three per cent, upon more than three fourths of all its dealings. 
+
+The operations of thisbankseem to haveproduced effectsquite 
+opposite to those which were intended by the particular persons 
+who planned and directed it. They seem to have intended to sup- 
+port the spirited undertakings, for as such they considered them, 
+which were at that timecarrying on i n different parts of the coun- 
+try; and, at thesametime, by drawingthewholebanking business 
+to themselves, to supplant all the other Scotch banks, particularly 
+those established at Edinburgh, whose backwardness in discount- 
+ing billsof exchangehad given someoffence.Thisbank, no doubt, 
+
+
+
+gave some temporary relief to those projectors, and enabled them 
+to carry on their projects for about two years longer than they 
+could otherwise have done. But it thereby only enabled them to 
+get so much deeper into debt; so that, when ruin came, it fell so 
+much the heavier both upon them and upon their creditors T he 
+operations of this bank, therefore, instead of relieving, in reality 
+aggravated in the long-run the distress which those projectors had 
+brought both upon themselves and upon their country. It would 
+havebeen much better for them selves, their creditors, and theircoun- 
+try, had the greater part of them been obliged to stop two years 
+sooner than they actuallydid.Thetemporary relief, however, which 
+this bank afforded to those projectors, proved a real and permanent 
+relief to theother Scotch banks. All thedealersin circulating billsof 
+exchange, which those other bankshad becomeso backward in dis- 
+counting, had recourse to this new bank, where they were received 
+with open arms. T hose other banks, therefore, were enabled to get 
+very easily out of that fatal circle, from which they could not other- 
+wise have disengaged themselves without incurring a considerable 
+loss, and perhaps, too, even some degree of discredit. 
+
+I n thelong-run, therefore, the operations of this bank increased 
+the real distress of the country, which it meant to relieve; and 
+effectually relieved, from a very great distress, those rivals whom it 
+meant to supplant. 
+
+
+
+257 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+At the first setting out of this bank, it was the opinion of some 
+people, that how fast soever its coffers might be emptied, it might 
+easily replenish them, by raising money upon the securities of those 
+to whom it had advanced its paper. Experience, I believe, soon 
+convinced them that this method of raising money was by much 
+too slow to answer their purpose; and that coffers which originally 
+were so ill filled, and which emptied themselves so very fast, could 
+be replenished by no other expedient but theruinousoneof draw- 
+ing bills upon London, and when they became due, paying them 
+by other draughts on the same place, with accumulated interest 
+and commission. But though they had been able by this method 
+to raise money as fast as they wanted it, yet, instead of making a 
+profit, they must have suffered a loss of every such operation; so 
+that in the long-run they must have ruined themselves as a mer- 
+cantile company, though perhaps not so soon as by the more ex- 
+pensive practice of drawing and redrawing. They could still have 
+made nothing by the interest of the paper, which, being over and 
+above what the circulation of the country could absorb and em- 
+ploy, returned upon them in order to be exchanged for gold and 
+silver, as fast as they issued it; and for the payment of which they 
+were themselves continually obliged to borrow money. On the 
+contrary, thewholeexpenseof thisborrowing, of employing agents 
+to look out for people who had money to lend, of negotiating 
+
+
+
+with those people, and of drawing the proper bond or assign- 
+ment, must have fallen upon them, and have been so much clear 
+loss upon the balance of their accounts T he project of replenish- 
+ing their coffers in this manner may becompared to that of a man 
+who had a water-pond from which a stream was continually run- 
+ning out, and into which no stream was continually running, but 
+who proposed to keep it always equally full, by employing a num- 
+ber of people to go continually with buckets to a well at some 
+miles distance, in order to bring water to replenish it. 
+
+But though this operation had proved not only practicable, but 
+profitable to the bank, as a mercantile company; yet the country 
+could have derived no benefit front it, but, on the contrary, must 
+have suffered a very considerable loss by it. T his operation could 
+not augment, in the smallest degree, the quantity of money to be 
+lent. It could only have erected this bank into a sort of general 
+loan office for the whole country. Those who wanted to borrow 
+must have applied to this bank, instead of applying to the private 
+persons who had lent it their money. But a bank which lends 
+money, perhaps to five hundred different people, the greater part 
+of whom its directors can know very littleabout, isnot likely to be 
+more judicious in the choice of its debtors than a private person 
+who lends out his money among a few people whom he knows, 
+and in whose sober and frugal conduct he thinks he has good 
+
+
+
+258 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+reason to confide. T he debtors of such a bank as that whose con- 
+duct I have been giving some account of were likely, the greater 
+part of them, to be chimerical projectors, thedrawersand redrawers 
+of circulatin g bills of exchange, who would employ the money in 
+extravagant undertakings, which, with all the assistance that could 
+be given them, they would probably never be able to complete, 
+and which, if they should be completed, would never repay the 
+expense which they had really cost, would never afford a fund 
+capable of maintaining a quantity of labour equal to that which 
+had been employed about them. The sober and frugal debtors of 
+private persons, on the contrary, would be more likely to employ 
+the money borrowed in sober undertakings which were propor- 
+tioned to their capitals, and which, though they might havelessof 
+the grand and the marvellous, would have more of the solid and 
+the profitable; which would repay with a large profit whatever 
+had been laid out upon them, and which would thus afford a 
+fund capable of maintaining a much greater quantity of labour 
+than that which had been employed about them. The success of 
+this operation, therefore, without increasing in the smallest de- 
+gree thecapital of thecountry, would only have transferred a great 
+part of it from prudent and profitable to imprudent and unprof- 
+itable undertakings. 
+T hat the industry of Scotland languished for want of money to 
+
+
+
+employ it, wastheopinion of thefamous M r Law. By establishing 
+a bank of a particular kind, which he seems to have imagined 
+might issue paper to the amount of the whole value of all the 
+lands in thecountry, he proposed to remedy this want of money. 
+The parliament of Scotland, when he first proposed his project, 
+did not think proper to adopt it. It was afterwards adopted, with 
+some variations, by the D uke of rleans, at that time regent of 
+France. T he idea of the possibility of multiplying paper money to 
+almost any extent was the real foundation of what is called the 
+M ississippi scheme, the most extravagant project, both of bank- 
+ing and stock-jobbing, that perhaps the world ever saw. The dif- 
+ferent operations of this scheme are explained so fully, so clearly, 
+and with so much order and distinctness, byM rDuVerney, in his 
+Examination of the Political Reflections upon commerce and fi- 
+nances of M r DuTot, that I shall not give any account of them. 
+The principles upon which it was founded are explained by M r 
+Law himself, in a discourse concerning money and trade, which 
+hepublished in Scotland when he first proposed his project. The 
+splendid but visionary ideas which are set forth in that and some 
+other works upon the same principles, still continue to make an 
+impression upon many people, and have, perhaps, in part, con- 
+tributed to that excess of banking, which has of late been com- 
+plained of, both in Scotland and in other places. 
+
+
+
+259 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+The Bank of England is the greatest bank of circulation in Eu- 
+rope. It was incorporated, in pursuanceof an act of parliament, by 
+a charter under the great seal, dated the 27th of July 1694. It at 
+that time advanced to government the sum of £1,200,000 for an 
+annuity of £100,000, or for £ 96,000 a-year, interest at the rateof 
+eight per cent, and £4,000 year for the expense of management. 
+Thecreditof thenew government, established by the Revolution, 
+we may believe, must have been very low, when it was obliged to 
+borrow at so high an interest. 
+
+In 1697, the bank was all owed to enlarge its capital stock, by an 
+ingraftment of £1,001, 171:10s. Itswholecapital stock, therefore, 
+amounted at this time to £2,201,171: 10s. This ingraftment is 
+said to have been for the support of public credit. I n 1696, tallies 
+had been at forty, and fifty, and sixty, per cent, discount, and bank 
+notes at twenty per cent. {|ames Postlethwaite's H istory of the 
+Public Revenue, p.301.}During thegreat re-coinageof thesilver, 
+which was going on atthistime, the bank had thought proper to 
+discontinuethepaymentofitsnotes, which necessarily occasioned 
+their discredit. 
+
+In pursuanceof the 7th Anne, c. 7, the bank advanced and paid 
+into theexchequer thesum of £400,000; making in all thesum of 
+£1,600,000, which it had advanced upon its original annuity of 
+£96,000 interest, and £4,000 for expenseof management. I n 1708, 
+
+
+
+therefore, thecreditof government was as good as that of private 
+persons, since it could borrow at six per cent, interest, the com- 
+mon legal and market rate of those times. In pursuance of the 
+same act, the bank cancelled exchequer bills to the amount of £ 
+1,775,027: 17s: WAti. at six per cent, interest, and was at the 
+same time allowed to take in subscriptions for doubling its capi- 
+tal. In 1703, therefore, the capital of the bank amounted to 
+£4,402,343; and it had advanced to government the sum of 
+£3,375,027:17:10y2d. 
+
+By a call of fifteen per cent, in 1709, there was paid in, and 
+made stock, £ 656,204:l:9d.; and by another of ten per cent, in 
+1710, £501, 448:12:lld. In consequenceof those two calls, there- 
+fore, the bank capital amounted to £ 5,559,995:14:8d. 
+
+In pursuance of the 3rd George I. c.8, the bank delivered up 
+two millionsof exchequer Billsto be cancelled. It had atthistime, 
+therefore, advanced to government £5,375,027:17 lOd. I n pursu- 
+ance of the 8th George I. c.21, the bank purchased of the South- 
+sea company, stock to theamount of £4,000,000: and in 1722, in 
+consequence of the subscriptions which it had taken in for en- 
+abling it to make this purchase, its capital stock was increased byf 
+3,400,000. Atthistime, therefore, the bank had advanced to the 
+public £ 9,375,027 17s. lOVzd.; and its capital stock amounted 
+only to £ 8,959,995:14:8d. It was upon this occasion that the 
+
+
+
+260 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+sum which the bank had advanced to the public, and for which it 
+received interest, began first to exceed its capital stock, orthesum 
+for which it paid a dividend to the proprietors of bank stock; or, 
+in other words, thatthebank began to have an undivided capital, 
+over and above its divided one. Ithascontinuedtohavean undi- 
+vided capital of the same kind ever since. In 1746, the bank had, 
+upon different occasions, advanced to the public £11,686,800, 
+and its divided capital had been raised by different calls and sub- 
+scri ptions to £ 10,780,000. T he state of those two sums has con- 
+tinued to bethesameever since. In pursuanceof the4th of George 
+III. c.25, the bank agreed to pay to government for the renewal of 
+its charter £110,000, without interest or re-payment. This sum, 
+therefore did not increase either of those two other sums. 
+
+Thedividend of thebank hasvaried accordingto thevariations 
+in the rateof the interest which it has, at different times, recaved 
+for the money it had advanced to the public, aswdl as according 
+to other circumstances. This rate of interest has gradually been 
+reduced from aght to three per cent. For some years past, the 
+bank dividend has been at five and a half per cent. 
+
+T he stability of the bank of E ngland is equal to that of the Brit- 
+ish government. All that it has advanced to thepublic must belost 
+before its creditors can sustain any loss. N o other banking com- 
+pany in England can be established by act of parliament, or can 
+
+
+
+consist of more than six members. It acts, not only as an ordinary 
+bank, but as a great engine of state. Itrecavesand paysthegreater 
+part of the annuities which are due to the creditors of the public; 
+it circulates exchequer bills; and it advances to government the 
+annual amount of the land and malt taxes, which are frequently 
+not paid up till some years thereafter. In these different opera- 
+tions, itsduty to thepublicmay sometimes haveobliged it, with- 
+out any fault of its directors, to overstock the circulation with 
+paper money. It likewisediscountsmerchants' bills, and has, upon 
+several different occasions, supported the credit of the principal 
+houses, not only of England, but of H amburgh and H olland. U pon 
+oneoccasion, in 1763, it issaid to have advanced for thispurpose, 
+in one week, about £1,600,000, a great part of it in bullion. I do 
+not, however, pretend to warrant either the greatness of the sum, 
+or the shortness of theti me. Upon other occasions, thisgreat com- 
+pany has been reduced to the necessity of paying in sixpences. 
+
+It is not by augmenting the capital of the country, but by ren- 
+dering a greater part of that capital active and productive than 
+would otherwise be so, that themostjudiciousoperationsof bank- 
+ing can increase the industry of the country. That part of hiscapi- 
+tal which a dealer is obliged to keep by him unemployed and in 
+ready money, for answering occasional demands, isso much dead 
+stock, which, so long asitremainsin thissituation, producesnoth- 
+
+
+
+261 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+ing, either to him or to his country. The judicious operations of 
+banking enable him to convert this dead stock into active and 
+productive stock; into materialsto work upon; into tools to work 
+with; and into provisions and subsistence to work for; into stock 
+which produces something both to himself and to his country. 
+The gold and silver money which circulates in any country and 
+by meansof which, the produce of its land and labour isannually 
+circulated and distributed to the proper consumers, is, in thesame 
+manner astheready money of thedealer, all dead stock. It isavery 
+valuable part of the capital of the country, which produces noth- 
+ing to the country. The judicious operations of banking, by sub- 
+stituting paper in the room of a great part of this gold and silver, 
+enablethe country to convert a great part of this dead stock into 
+active and productive stock; into stock which produces something 
+to the country. The gold and silver money which circulatesin any 
+country may very properly becompared to a highway, which, while 
+it circulates and carries to market all the grass and corn of the 
+country, produces itself not a single pile of either. Thejudicious 
+operations of banking, by providing, if I may be allowed so vio- 
+lent a metaphor, a sort of waggon-way through theair, enablethe 
+country to convert, as it were, a great part of its highways into 
+good pastures, and corn fields, and thereby to increase, very con- 
+siderably, the annual produce of its land and labour. The com- 
+
+
+
+merce and industry of the country, however, it must be acknowl- 
+edged, though they may be somewhat augmented, cannot be alto- 
+gether so secure, when they are thus, as it were, suspended upon the 
+D aedalian wings of paper money, as when they travel about upon 
+thesolid ground of gold and silver. Over and above the accidents to 
+which they are exposed from theunskilfulness of theconductors of 
+this paper money, they are liable to several others, from which no 
+prudence or skill of those conductors can guard them. 
+
+An unsuccessful war, for example, in which the enemy got pos- 
+session of the capital, and consequently of that treasure which 
+supported the credit of the paper money, would occasion a much 
+greater confusion in a country where the whole circulation was 
+carried on by paper, than in one where the greater part of it was 
+carried on by gold and silver. The usual instrument of commerce 
+having lost its value, no exchanges could be made but either by 
+barter or upon credit. All taxes having been usually paid in paper 
+money, the prince would not have wherewithal either to pay his 
+troops, or to furnish his magazines; and the state of the country 
+would be much more irretrievable than if the greater part of its 
+circulation had consisted in gold and silver. A prince, anxious to 
+maintain his dominions at all times in the state in which he can 
+most easily defend them, ought upon this account to guard not 
+only against that excessive multiplication of paper money which 
+
+
+
+262 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+ruinstheverybankswhich issueit, but even against that multipli- 
+cation of it which enables them to fill thegreater part of thecircu- 
+lation of the country with it. 
+
+The circulation of every country may be considered as divided 
+into two different branches; the circulation of the dealers with 
+oneanother, and thecirculation between thedealersand thecon- 
+sumers.T hough thesame pieces of money, whether paper or metal, 
+may be employed sometimes in the one circulation and some- 
+timesintheother;yetasboth are constantly going on at thesame 
+time, each requires a certain stock of money, of one kind or an- 
+other, to carry it on. The value of the goods circulated between 
+the different dealers never can exceed the valueof those circulated 
+between thedealersand theconsumers; whatever isbought by the 
+deal ers being ultimately destined to be sold to theconsumers. The 
+circulation between the dealers, as it is carried on by wholesale, 
+requires generally a pretty large sum for every particular transac- 
+tion. That between the dealers and the consumers, on the con- 
+trary, as it isgenerally carried on by retail, frequently requires but 
+very small ones, a shilling, or even a halfpenny, being often suffi- 
+cient. But small sums circulate much faster than large ones. A 
+shilling changes masters more frequently than a guinea, and a 
+halfpenny more frequently than a shilling. Though the annual 
+purchases of all theconsumers, therefore, are at least equal in value 
+
+
+
+to those of all the dealers, they can generally be transacted with a 
+much smaller quanti ty of money; thesamepieces, byamore rapid 
+circulation, serving as the instrument of many more purchases of 
+the one kind than of the other. 
+
+Paper money may be so regulated as either to confine itself very 
+much to the circulation between the different dealers, or to ex- 
+tend itself likewise to a great part of that between the dealers and 
+the consumers. Where no bank notes are circulated under £10 
+value, as in London, paper money confines itself very much to the 
+circulation between the dealers. When a ten pound bank note 
+comes into the hands of a consumer, he is generally obliged to 
+change it at the first shop where he has occasion to purchase five 
+shillings worth of goods; so that it often returns into the hands of 
+a dealer before the consumer has spent the fortieth part of the 
+money. W here bank notes are issued for so small sumsas20s. asin 
+Scotland, paper money extends itself to a considerable part of the 
+circulation between dealers and consumers. Before the Act of par- 
+liament which put a stop to thecirculation often and five shilling 
+notes, it filled a still greater part of that circulation. In thecurren- 
+cies of N orth America, paper was commonly issued for so small a 
+sum as a shilling, and filled almost the whole of that circulation. 
+In some paper currencies of Yorkshire, it was issued even for so 
+small a sum as a sixpence. 
+
+
+
+263 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+Where the issuing of bank notes for such very small sums is al- 
+lowed, and commonly practised, many mean people are both en- 
+abled and encouraged to become bankers. A person whose promis- 
+sory note for £5, or even for 20s. would be rejected by every body, 
+will get it to be received without scruple when it is issued for so 
+small a sum as a sixpence. But thefrequent bankruptcies to which 
+such beggarly bankersmust beliable, may occasion a very consider- 
+able inconveniency, and sometimes even a very great calamity, to 
+many poor people who had received their notesin payment. 
+
+It were better, perhaps, that no bank notes were issued in any 
+partofthekingdom for a smaller sum than f 5. Paper money would 
+then, probably, confine itself, in every part of the kingdom, to the 
+circulation between the different dealers, as much as it does at 
+present in London, where no bank notes are issued under £10 
+value; £5 being, in most part of thekingdom, a sum which, though 
+itwill purchase, perhaps, littlemorethan half the quantity of goods, 
+is as much considered, and is as seldom spent all at once, as £10 
+are amidst the profuse expense of London. 
+
+W here paper money, it is to be observed, is pretty much con- 
+fined to thecirculation between dealers and dealers, as at London, 
+there is always plenty of gold and silver. Where it extends itself to 
+a considerable part of the circulation between dealers and con- 
+sumers, as in Scotland, and still more in North America, it ban- 
+
+
+
+ishes gold and silver almost entirely from the country; almost all 
+the ordinary transactions of its interior commerce being thus car- 
+ried on by paper. The suppression often and five shilling bank 
+notes, somewhat relieved the scarcity of gold and silver in Scot- 
+land; and the suppression of twenty shilling notes will probably 
+relieve it still more. Those metals are said to have become more 
+abundant in America, since the suppression of some of their pa- 
+per currencies. They are said, likewise, to have been more abun- 
+dant before the institution of those currencies. 
+
+Though paper money should be pretty much confined to the 
+circulation between dealers and dealers, yet banks and bankers 
+might still be able to give nearly the same assistance to theindus- 
+try and commerce of the country, as they had done when paper 
+money filled almost the wholecirculation. The ready money which 
+a dealer is obliged to keep by him, for answering occasional de- 
+mands, is destined altogether for thecirculation between himself 
+and other dealers of whom he buys goods. H e has no occasion to 
+keep any by him for thecirculation between himself and the con- 
+sumers, who are his customers, and who bring ready money to 
+him, instead of taking any from him. Though no paper money, 
+therefore, was allowed to be issued, but for such sums as would 
+confineit pretty much to thecirculation between dealers and deal- 
+ers; yet partly by discounting real bills of exchange, and partly by 
+
+
+
+264 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+lending upon cash-accounts, banks and bankers might still beable 
+to relieve the greater part of those dealers from the necessity of 
+keeping any considerablepart of their stock by them unemployed, 
+and in ready money, for answering occasional demands. They might 
+still beableto give theutmost assistance which banks and bankers 
+can with propriety give to traders of every kind. 
+
+To restrain private people, it may be said, from receiving in pay- 
+ment the promissory notesof a banker for any sum, whether great 
+or small, when they themselves are willing to receive them; or, to 
+restrain a banker from issuing such notes, when all hisneighbours 
+are willing to accept of them, isa manifest violation of that natu- 
+ral liberty, which it is the proper business of law not to infringe, 
+but to support. Such regulations may, no doubt, be considered as 
+in some respect a violation of natural liberty. But those exertions 
+of the natural liberty of afew individuals, which might endanger 
+the security of the whole society, are, and ought to be, restrained 
+by the laws of all governments; of the most free, as well as or the 
+most despotical. The obligation of building party walls, in order 
+to prevent the communication of fire, is a violation of natural 
+liberty, exactly of the same kind with the regulations of the bank- 
+ing trade which are here proposed. 
+
+A paper money, consisting in bank notes, issued by people of 
+undoubted credit, payable upon demand, without any condition, 
+
+
+
+and, in fact, always readily paid as soon as presented, is, in every 
+respect, equal in value to gold and silver money, since gold and 
+silver money can at anytime behad for it. W hatever iseither bought 
+or sold for such paper, must necessarily be bought or sold as cheap 
+as it could have been for gold and silver. 
+
+The increase of paper money, it has been said, by augmenting 
+thequantity, andconsequentlydiminishingthevalue, ofthewhole 
+currency, necessarily augments the money price of commodities. 
+But as the quantity of gold and silver, which is taken from the 
+currency, is always equal to the quantity of paper which is added 
+to it, paper money does not necessarily increase the quantity of 
+the whole currency. From the beginning of the last century to the 
+present time, provisions never were cheaper in Scotland than in 
+1759, though, from the circulation often and five shilling bank 
+notes, there was then more paper money in the country than at 
+present. T he proportion between the price of provisions in Scot- 
+land and that in England isthesamenow as before the great mul- 
+tiplication of banking companies in Scotland. Corn is, upon most 
+occasions, fully as cheap in England asin France, though thereis 
+a great deal of paper money in England, and scarce any in France. 
+I n 1751 and 1752, when M r H ume published his Political D is- 
+courses, and soon after thegreat multiplication of paper money in 
+Scotland, there was a very sensible rise in the price of provisions, 
+
+
+
+265 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+owing, probably, to the badness of the seasons, and not to the 
+multiplication of paper money. 
+
+It would be otherwise, indeed, with a paper money, consisting 
+in promissory notes, of which the immediate payment depended, 
+in any respect, either upon thegood will of those who issued them, 
+or upon a condition which the holder of the notes might not al- 
+ways have it in his power to fulfil, or of which the payment was 
+not exigibletill after a certain number of years, and which, in the 
+mean time, boreno interest. Such a paper money would, no doubt, 
+fall more or less below the value of gold and silver, according as 
+thedifficulty or uncertainty of obtaining immediatepayment was 
+supposed to be greater or less, or according to the greater or less 
+distance of time at which payment was exigible. 
+
+Some years ago the different banking companies of Scotland 
+were in the practice of inserting into their bank notes, what they 
+called an optional clause; by which they promised payment to the 
+bearer, either as soon as the note should be presented, or, in the 
+option of the directors, six months after such presentment, to- 
+gether with the legal interest for thesaid six months. T hedirectors 
+of someof those banks sometimes took advantageofthisoptional 
+clause, and sometimes threatened those who demanded gold and 
+silver in exchange for a considerable number of their notes, that 
+they would take advantage of it, unless such demanders would 
+
+
+
+content themselves with a part of what they demanded . T he prom- 
+issory notes of those banking companies constituted, at that time, 
+the far greater part of the currency of Scotland, which this uncer- 
+tainty of payment necessarily degraded below value of gold and 
+silver money. D uring the continuance of this abuse (which pre- 
+vailed chiefly in 1762, 1763, and 1764), while the exchange be- 
+tween London and Carlisle was at par, that between London and 
+D umfries would sometimes be four per cent, against D umfries, 
+though this town is not thirty miles distant from Carlisle. But at 
+Carlisle, bills were paid in gold and silver; whereas at Dumfries 
+they were paid in Scotch bank notes; and the uncertainty of get- 
+tingthese bank notes exchanged for gold and silver coin, had thus 
+degraded them four per cent, below the value of that coin. The 
+sameactof parliament which suppressed ten and five shilling bank 
+notes, suppressed likewise this optional clause, and thereby re- 
+stored the exchange between England and Scotland to its natural 
+rate, or to whatthecourseof tradeand remittances might happen 
+to make it. 
+
+In the paper currencies of Yorkshire, the payment of so small a 
+sum as 6d. sometimes depended upon the condition, that the 
+holder of the note should bring the change of a guinea to the 
+person who issued it; a condition which the holders of such notes 
+might frequently find it very difficult to fulfil, and which must 
+
+
+
+266 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+have degraded this currency below the value of gold and silver 
+money. An act of parliament, accordingly declared all such clauses 
+unlawful, and suppressed, in the same manner as in Scotland, all 
+promissory notes, payable to the bearer, under 20s. value. 
+
+The paper currencies of North America consisted, not in bank 
+notes payable to the bearer on demand, but in a government pa- 
+per, of which the payment was not exigibletill several years after it 
+was issued; and though the colony governments paid no interest 
+to the holders of this paper, they declared it to be, and in fact 
+rendered it, a legal tender of payment for the full valuefor which 
+it wasissued. But allowing thecolony security to be perfectly good, 
+£100, payable fifteen yearshence, for example, in a country where 
+interest is at six per cent., is worth little more than £40 ready 
+money. To oblige a creditor, therefore, to accept of this as full 
+payment for a debt of £100, actually paid down in ready money, 
+was an act of such violent injustice, as has scarce, perhaps, been 
+attempted by the government of any other country which pre 
+tended to be free. It bears the evident marksof having originally 
+been, what the honest and downright D octor D ouglas assures us 
+it was, a schemeof fraudulent debtors to cheat their creditors. T he 
+government of Pennsylvania, indeed, pretended, upon their first 
+emission of paper money, in 1722, to render their paper of equal 
+value with gold and silver, by enacting penalties against all those 
+
+
+
+who made any difference in the price of their goods when they 
+sold them for a colony paper, and when they sold them for gold 
+and silver, a regulation equally tyrannical, but much less, effec- 
+tual, than that which it was meant to support. A positive law may 
+render a shilling a legal tender for a guinea, because it may direct 
+the courts of justice to discharge the debtor who has made that 
+tender; but no positive law can oblige a person who sells goods, 
+and who isat liberty to sell or not to sell as he pleases, to accept of 
+a shilling as equivalent to a guinea in the price of them. N otwith- 
+standing any regulation of thiskind, it appeared, bythecourseof 
+exchange with Great Britain, that £100 sterling was occasionally 
+considered as equivalent, in some of the colonies, to £130, and in 
+otherstosogreatasum as £1100 currency; this difference in the 
+valuearisingfrom thedifferencein thequantity of paper emitted 
+in the different colonies, and in the distance and probability of 
+theterm of its final discharge and redemption. 
+
+N o law, therefore, could be more equitable than the act of par- 
+liament, so unjustly complained of in thecolonies, which declared, 
+that no paper currency to be emitted therein timecoming, should 
+be a legal tender of payment. 
+
+Pennsylvania was always more moderate in its emissions of pa- 
+per money than any other of our colonies. Its paper currency, ac- 
+cordingly, is said never to have sunk bdow the value of the gold 
+
+
+
+267 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+and silver which was current in the colony before the first emis- 
+sion of its paper money. Before that emission, thecolony had raised 
+thedenomination of its coin, and had, by act of assembly, ordered 
+5s. sterling to pass in the colonies for 6s:3d., and afterwards for 
+6s:8d. A pound, colony currency, therefore, even when that cur- 
+rency was gold and silver, was more than thirty per cent, below 
+the value of £1 sterling; and when that currency was turned into 
+paper, it was seldom much more than thirty per cent, below that 
+value. Thepretence for raising thedenomination of thecoin was 
+to prevent the exportation of gold and silver, by making equal 
+quantities of those metals pass for greater sums in thecolony than 
+they did in the mother country. It was found, however, that the 
+price of all goods from the mother country rose exactly in propor- 
+tion as they raised the denomination of their coin, so that their 
+gold and silver were exported as fast as ever. 
+
+The paper of each colony being received in the payment of the 
+provincial taxes, for the full value for which it had been issued, it 
+necessarily derived from this use some additional value, over and 
+above what it would have had, from the real or supposed distance 
+oftheterm of its final discharge and redemption. Thisadditional 
+value was greater or less, according asthequantity of paper issued 
+was more or I ess above what could be employed in the payment of 
+the taxes of the particular colony which issued it. It was in all the 
+
+
+
+colonies very much above what could be employed in this man- 
+ner. 
+
+A prince, who should enact that a certain proportion of histaxes 
+should be paid in a paper money of a certain kind, might thereby 
+give a certain value to this paper money, even though the term of 
+its final discharge and redemption should depend altogether upon 
+the will of the prince. If the bank which issued this paper was 
+careful to keep the quantity of it always somewhat below what 
+could easily be employed in thismanner, thedemand for it might 
+be such as to make it even bear a premium, or sell for somewhat 
+moreinthemarketthanthequantity of gold or silver currency for 
+which itwasissued.Somepeopleaccountin thismanner for what 
+iscalled theagio of thebank of Amsterdam, or for the superiority 
+of bank money over current money, though this bank money, as 
+they pretend, cannot betaken out of the bank at the will of the 
+owner. T he greater part of foreign bills of exchange must be paid 
+in bank money, that is, by a transfer in the books of the bank; and 
+the directors of thebank, they allege, are careful to keep thewhole 
+quantity of bank money always below what this use occasions a 
+demand for. It is upon this account, they say, thebank money sells 
+for a premium, or bears an agio of four or five per cent, above the 
+samenominal sum of thegold and silver currency of the country. 
+This account of thebank of Amsterdam, however, it will appear 
+
+
+
+268 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+hereafter, is in a great measure chimerical. 
+
+A paper currency which falls below the value of gold and silver 
+coin, does not thereby sink the value of those metals, or occasion 
+equal quantities of them to exchange for a smaller quantity of 
+goods of any other kind. The proportion between the value of 
+gold and silver and that of goods of any other kind, depends in all 
+cases, not upon the nature and quantity of any particular paper 
+money, which may be current in any particular country, but upon 
+the richness or poverty of the mines, which happen at any par- 
+ticular time to supply the great market of the commercial world 
+with those metals. It depends upon the proportion between the 
+quantity of labour which is necessary in order to bring a certain 
+quantity of gold and silver to market, and that which is necessary 
+in order to bring thither a certain quantity of any other sort of 
+goods. 
+
+If bankers are restrained from issuing any circulating bank notes, 
+or notes payable to the bearer, for less than a certain sum; and if 
+they are subjected to the obligation of an immediate and uncon- 
+ditional payment of such bank notes as soon as presented, their 
+trade may, with safety to the public, be rendered in all other re 
+spects perfectly free. The late multiplication of banking compa- 
+niesin both parts of theunited kingdom, an event by which many 
+people have been much alarmed, instead of diminishing, increases 
+
+
+
+the security of the public. It obliges all of them to be more cir- 
+cumspect in their conduct, and, by not extending their currency 
+beyond itsdue proportion to their cash, to guard them selves against 
+those malicious runs, which therivalship of so many competitors 
+is always ready to bring upon them. It restrains the circulation of 
+each particular company within a narrower circle, and reduces 
+their circulating notes to a smaller number. By dividing the whole 
+circulation into a greater number of parts, the failure of any one 
+company, an accident which, in the course of things, must some- 
+times happen, becomes of less consequence to the public. This 
+free competition, too, obliges all bankers to be more liberal in 
+their dealings with their customers, lest their rivals should carry 
+them away. In general, if any branch of trade, or any division of 
+labour, be advantageous to the public, thefreerand more general 
+the competition, it will always be the more so. 
+
+
+
+269 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III 
+
+OFTHE ACCUMULATION OF CAPITAL, 
+OR OF PRODUCTIVE AND UNPRODUC- 
+TIVE LABOUR 
+
+There is one sort of labour which adds to the value of the sub- 
+jectupon which it is bestowed; there is an other which hasnosuch 
+effect. T he former as it produces a value, may be called produc- 
+tive, thelatter, unproductivelabour. ■(BomeFrench authors of great 
+learningand ingenuity haveused those wordsinadifferent sense. 
+I n the last chapter of the fourth book, I shall endeavour to shew 
+that their sense is an improper one.}T hus the labour of a manu- 
+facturer addsgenerally to thevalueofthematerials which heworks 
+upon, that of hisown maintenance, and of his master's profit. T he 
+labour of a menial servant, on the contrary, adds to the value of 
+nothing.Thoughthemanufacturerhashiswagesadvancedtohim 
+by hismaster, hein reality costshim no expense, thevalueof those 
+wages being generally restored, together with a profit, in the im- 
+proved value of the subject upon which his labour is bestowed. 
+But the maintenance of a menial servant never is restored. A man 
+grows rich by employing a multitude of manufacturers; he grows 
+poor by maintaining a multitude or menial servants. The labour 
+
+
+
+of thelatter, however, has its value, and deserves its reward as well 
+asthatoftheformer. But the labour of the manufacturer fixes and 
+realizes itself in some particular subject or vendible commodity, 
+which lasts for some time at least after that labour ispast. Itis, as 
+it were, a certain quantity of labour stocked and stored up, to be 
+employed, if necessary, upon some other occasion. That subject, 
+or, what is the same thing, the price of that subject, can after- 
+wards, if necessary, put into motion a quantity of labour equal to 
+that which had originally produced it. The labour of the menial 
+servant, on the contrary, does not fix or realize itself in any par- 
+ticular subject or vendiblecommodity H is services generally per- 
+ish in the very instant of their performance, and seldom leave any 
+trace of value behind them, for which an equal quantity of service 
+could afterwards be procured. 
+
+The labour of someof the most respectable orders in thesociety 
+is, like that of menial servants, unproductive of any value, and 
+does not fix or realize itself in any permanent subject, or vendible 
+commodity, which endures after that labour ispast, and for which 
+an equal quantity of labour could afterwards be procured. The 
+sovereign, for example, with all the officers both of justiceand war 
+whoserveunderhim,thewholearmyand navy, are unproductive 
+labourers. T hey are the servants of the public, and aremaintained 
+by a part of the annual produce of the industry of other people. 
+
+
+
+270 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+Their service, how honourable, how useful, or how necessary soever, 
+producesnothingfor which an equal quantity of service can after- 
+wards be procured. The protection, security, and defence, of the 
+commonwealth, the effect of their labour this year, will not pur- 
+chase its protection, security, and defence, for the year to come. In 
+the same class must be ranked, some both of the gravest and most 
+important, and some of the most frivolous professions; church- 
+men, lawyers, physicians, men of letters of all kinds; players, buf- 
+foons, musicians, opera-singers, opera-dancers, etc. The labour of 
+the meanest of these has a certain value, regulated by the very 
+same principles which regulate that of every other sort of labour; 
+and that of the noblest and most useful, produces nothing which 
+could afterwards purchase or procure an equal quantity of labour. 
+Like the declamation of the actor, the harangue of the orator, or 
+the tune of the musician, the work of all of them perishes in the 
+very instant of its production. 
+
+Both productive and unproductive labourers, and those who do 
+not labour at all, are all equally maintained by theannual produce 
+of the land and labour of the country. This produce, how great 
+soever, can never beinfinite, but must have certain limits. Accord- 
+ing, therefore, asa smaller or greater proportion of it isin any one 
+year employed in maintaining unproductive hands, the more in 
+theonecase, and thelessin theother, will remain fortheproduc- 
+
+
+
+tive, and the next year's produce will be greater or smaller accord- 
+ingly; the whole annual produce, if we except the spontaneous 
+productions of the earth, being the effect of productive labour. 
+
+Though the whole annual produce of the land and labour of ev- 
+ery country is no doubt ultimately destined for supplying the con- 
+sumption of its inhabitants, and for procuring a revenue to them; 
+yetwhenitfirstcomeseitherfromtheground,orfromthehandsof 
+the productive labourers, it naturally divides itself into two parts. 
+One of them, and frequently the largest, is, in the first place, des- 
+tined for replacing a capital, or for renewing the provisions, materi- 
+als, and finished work, which had been withdrawn from a capital; 
+theother for constituting a revenueeither to theowner of thiscapi- 
+tal, as the profit of his stock, or to some other person, as the rent of 
+hisland.Thus, of the produce of land, one part replaces the capital 
+of thefarmer; the other pays his profit and the rent of the landlord; 
+and thus constitutes a revenue both to the owner of this capital, as 
+the profits of his stock, and to some other person as the rent of his 
+land. Of the produce of a great manufactory, in the same manner, 
+one part, and that always the largest, replaces the capital of the un- 
+dertaker of the work; theother pays his profit, and thus constitutes 
+a revenue to theowner of this capital. 
+
+T hat part of the annual produce of the land and labour of any 
+country which replaces a capital, never is immediately employed 
+
+
+
+271 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+to maintain any but productive hands. It pays the wages of pro- 
+ductive labour only. T hat which is immediately destined for con- 
+stituting a revenue, either as profit or as rent, may maintain indif- 
+ferently either productive or unproductive hands. 
+
+Whatever part of hisstockaman employs asa capital, healways 
+expects it to be replaced to him with a profit. H e employs it, there- 
+fore, in maintaining productivehandsonly; and after having served 
+in the function of a capital to him, it constitutes a revenue to 
+them. W henever heemploysany part of it in maintaining unpro- 
+ductive hands of any kind, that part is from that moment with- 
+drawn from hiscapital, and placed in hisstock reserved for imme- 
+diate consumption. 
+
+Unproductive labourers, and those who do not labour at all, are 
+all maintained by revenue; either, first, by that part of the annual 
+produce which isoriginally destined for constituting a revenue to 
+some particular persons, either as therent of land, or as theprofits 
+of stock; or, secondly, by that part which, though originally des- 
+tined for replacing a capital, and for maintaining productive 
+labourers only, yet when it comes into their hands, whatever part 
+of it is over and above their necessary subsistence, may be em- 
+ployed in maintaining indifferently either productive or unpro- 
+ductive hands Thus, not only the great landlord or the rich mer- 
+chant, but even the common workman, if his wages are consider- 
+
+
+
+able, may maintain a menial servant; or hemay sometimes go to a 
+play or a puppet-show, and so contribute his share towards main- 
+taining one set of unproductive labourers; or he may pay some 
+taxes, and thus help to maintain another set, more honourable 
+and useful, indeed, but equally unproductive. No part of the an- 
+nual produce, however, which had been originally destined to re- 
+place a capital, isever directed towardsmaintaining unproductive 
+hands, till after it has put into motion its full complement of pro- 
+ductive labour, or all that it could put into motion in the way in 
+which it was employed. Theworkman musthave earned hiswages 
+by work done, before he can employ any part of them in this 
+manner. That part, too, isgenerally but a small one. Itishisspare 
+revenue only, of which productive labourers have seldom a great 
+deal. They generally have some, however; and in the payment of 
+taxes, the greatness of their number may compensate, in some 
+measure, the smal In ess of their contribution. Therent of land and 
+the profits of stock are everywhere, therefore, theprincipal sources 
+from which unproductive hands derive their subsistence. These 
+are the two sorts of revenue of which the owners have generally 
+most to spare. They might both maintain indifferently, either pro- 
+ductiveor unproductivehands.They seem, however, to have some 
+predilection for the latter. T heexpenseof a great lord feedsgen er- 
+ally moreidlethan industriouspeopleTherich merchant, though 
+
+
+
+272 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+with his capital he maintains industrious people only, yet by his 
+expense, that is, by the employment of his revenue, hefeedscom- 
+monly the very same sort as the great lord. 
+
+The proportion, therefore, between the productive and unpro- 
+ductivehands, dependsverymuch in every country upon thepro- 
+portion between that part of the annual produce, which, as soon 
+as it comes either from the ground, or from the hands of the pro- 
+ductive labourers, isdestined for replacing a capital, and that which 
+is destined for constituting a revenue, either as rent or as profit. 
+This proportion is very different in rich from what it is in poor 
+countries. 
+
+Thus, at present, in the opulent countries of Europe, a very 
+large, frequently the largest, portion of the produce of the land, is 
+destined for replacing the capital of the rich and independent 
+farmer; the other for paying his profits, and the rent of the land- 
+lord. But anciently, during the prevalency of the feudal govern- 
+ment, a very small portion of the produce was sufficient to replace 
+the capital employed in cultivation. It consisted commonly in a 
+few wretched cattle, maintained altogether by the spontaneous 
+produce of uncultivated land, and which might, therefore, becon- 
+sidered as a part of that spontaneous produce. It generally, too, 
+belonged to the landlord, and was by him advanced totheoccupi- 
+ers of the land. All the rest of the produce properly belonged to 
+
+
+
+him too, either as rent for his land, or as profit upon this paltry 
+capital. The occupiers of land were generally bond-men, whose 
+per sonsand effects were equally hisproperty Those who were not 
+bond-men were tenants at will; and though the rent which they 
+paid was often nominally little more than a quit-rent, it really 
+amounted to the whole produce of the land. Their lord could at 
+all times command their labour in peace and their service in war. 
+Though they lived at a distance from his house, they were equally 
+dependent upon him ashisretainerswho lived in it. Butthewhole 
+produce of the land undoubtedly bdongsto him, who can dis- 
+pose of the labour and service of all those whom it maintains. In 
+the present state of Europe, the share of the landlord sddom ex- 
+ceedsathird, sometimes not a fourth part of thewholeproduceof 
+the land. T he rent of land, however, in all the improved parts of 
+thecountry, has been tripled and quadrupled si nee those ancient 
+times; and this third or fourth part of the annual produce is, it 
+seems, threeor four times greater than thewholehad been before. 
+I n the progress of improvement, rent, though it increases in pro- 
+portion to the extent, diminishesin proportion to the produce of 
+the land. 
+
+I n the opulent countries of E urope, great capitals are at present 
+employed in tradeand manufactures. In theancient state, thelittle 
+trade that was stirring, and the few homdy and coarse manufac- 
+
+
+
+273 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+tu res that were carried on, required but very small capitals. These, 
+however, must have yielded very large prof its. The rate of interest 
+was nowhere less than ten per cent, and their profits must have 
+been sufficient to afford this great interest. At present, the rate of 
+interest, in the improved parts of Europe, is nowhere higher than 
+six per cent.; and in some of the most improved, it is so low as 
+four, three, and two per cent. T hough that part of the revenue of 
+the inhabitants which is derived from the profits of stock, is al- 
+ways much greater in rich than in poor countries, it is because the 
+stock is much greater; in proportion to the stock, the profits are 
+generally much less. 
+
+That part of theannual produce, therefore, which, as soon asit 
+comes either from the ground, or from the hands of the produc- 
+tive labourers, isdestined for replacing a capital, isnot only much 
+greater in rich than in poor countries, but bears a much greater 
+proportion to that which isimmediately destined for constituting 
+a revenue either as rent or as profit. The funds destined for the 
+maintenance of productive labour are not only much greater in 
+the former than in the latter, but bear a much greater proportion 
+to those which, though they may be employed to maintain either 
+productive or unproductive hands, have generally a predilection 
+for the latter. 
+
+Theproportion between those different funds necessarily deter- 
+
+
+
+minesin every country the general character of the in habitants as 
+to industry or idleness. We are more industrious than our forefa- 
+thers, because, in the present times, the funds destined for the 
+maintenanceof industry aremuch greater in proportion to those 
+which are likely to be employed in the maintenance of idleness, 
+than they were two or three centuries ago. Our ancestors were idle 
+for want of a sufficient encouragement to industry. It is better, 
+says the proverb, to play for nothing, than to work for nothing. I n 
+mercantileand manufacturing towns, where the inferior ranksof 
+peopleare chiefly maintained by the employment of capital, they 
+are in general industrious, sober, and thriving; as in many En- 
+glish, and in most D utch towns. In those townswhich areprinci- 
+pally supported bytheconstant or occasional residence of a court, 
+and in which the inferior ranks of people are chiefly maintained 
+bythespending of revenue, theyarein general idle, dissolute, and 
+poor; as at Rome, Versailles, Compeigne, and Fontainbleau. If 
+you except Rouen and Bourdeaux, there is littletrade or industry 
+in any of the parliament towns of France; and theinferior ranksof 
+people, being chiefly maintained by the expense of the members 
+of the courts of justice, and of those who come to plead before 
+them, are in general idle and poor. The great trade of Rouen and 
+Bourdeaux seems to be altogether the effect of their situation. 
+Rouen isnecessarilytheentrepot of almost all thegoodswhich are 
+
+
+
+274 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+brought either from foreign countries, orfrom the maritime prov- 
+inces of France, for the consumption of the great city of Paris. 
+Bourdeauxis, in the same manner, theentrepotof thewines which 
+grow upon th e banks of theGarronne, and of theri vers which run 
+into it, one of the richest wine countries in the world, and which 
+seemsto produce the winefittest for exportation, or best suited to 
+the taste of foreign nations. Such advantageous situations neces- 
+sarily attract a great capital by the great employment which they 
+afford it; and the employment of this capital is the cause of the 
+industry of those two cities. In the other parliament towns of 
+France, very little more capital seemsto be employed than what is 
+necessary for supplyingth eirown consumption; that is, littlemore 
+than the smallest capital which can be employed in them. The 
+same thing may be said of Paris, Madrid, and Vienna. Of those 
+three cities, Paris is by far the most industrious, but Paris itself is 
+the principal market of all the manufactures established at Paris, 
+and its own consumption is the principal object of all the trade 
+which it carries on. London, Lisbon, and Copenhagen, are, per- 
+haps, the only three cities in Europe, which are both the constant 
+residence of a court, and can at the same time be considered as 
+trading cities, or as cities which trade not only for their own con- 
+sumption, but for that of other cities and countries. T hesituation 
+of all the three is extremely advantageous, and naturally fits them 
+
+
+
+to be the entrepots of a great part of the goods destined for the 
+consumption of distant places. I n a city where a great revenue is 
+spent, to employ with advantage a capital for any other purpose 
+than for supplying theconsumption of that city, isprobably more 
+difficultthan in onein which theinferior ranks of peoplehaveno 
+other maintenance but what they derive from the employment of 
+such a capital. T he idleness of the greater part of the people who 
+are maintained by theexpenseof revenue, corrupts, it is probable, 
+the industry of those who ought to be maintained by the employ- 
+ment of capital, and renders it lessadvantageousto employ a capi- 
+tal there than in other places. There was little trade or industry in 
+Edinburgh before the Union. When the Scotch parliament was 
+no longer to be assembled in it, when it ceased to be the necessary 
+residence of the principal nobility and gentry of Scotland, it be- 
+cameacityof sometradeand industry. It still continues, however, 
+to bethe residence of the principal courts of justice in Scotland, of 
+the boards of customs and excise, etc. A considerable revenue, 
+therefore, still continuestobespentin it. In tradeand industry, it 
+is much inferior to Glasgow, of which the inhabitants are chiefly 
+maintained by the employment of capital. The inhabitants of a 
+large village, it has sometimes been observed, after having made 
+considerableprogressin manufactures, havebecomeidleand poor, 
+in consequence of a great lord's having taken up his residence in 
+
+
+
+275 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+their neighbourhood. 
+
+The proportion between capital and revenue, therefore, seems 
+everywhere to regulate theproportion between industry and idle- 
+ness Wherever capital predominates, industry prevails; wherever 
+revenue, idleness. Every increase or diminution of capital, there- 
+fore, naturally tends to increase or diminish the real quantity of 
+industry, the number of productive hands, and consequently the 
+exchangeable value of theannual produce of the land and labour 
+of the country, the real wealth and revenue of all its inhabitants. 
+
+Capitals are increased by parsimony, and diminished by prodi- 
+gality and misconduct. 
+
+W hatever a person saves from his revenue he addsto hiscapital, 
+and either employs it himself in maintaining an additional num- 
+ber of productive hands, or enables some other person to do so, 
+by lending it to him for an interest, that is, for a share of the 
+profits. As the capital of an individual can be increased only by 
+what he saves from his annual revenue or his annual gains, so the 
+capital of a society, which isthesamewith that of all theindividu- 
+als who compose it, can be increased only in the same manner. 
+
+Parsimony, and not industry, istheimmediatecauseof theincrease 
+of capital. Industry, indeed, provides the subject which parsimony 
+accumulates; but whatever industry might acquire, if parsimony did 
+not save and store up, the capital would never be the greater. 
+
+
+
+Parsimony, by increasing thefund which isdestined for themain- 
+tenance of productive hands, tendsto increase thenumber of those 
+handswhoselabour addsto thevalueofthesubject upon winch it 
+is bestowed. It tends, therefore, to increase theexchangeablevalue 
+of the annual produce of the land and labour of the country. It 
+puts into motion an additional quantity of industry, which gives 
+an additional value to theannual produce. 
+
+What is annually saved, is as regularly consumed aswhatisan- 
+nually spent, and nearly in the same time too: but it is consumed 
+by a different set of people. T hat portion of his revenue which a 
+rich man annually spends, is, in most cases, consumed by idle 
+guests and menial servants, who leave nothing behind them in 
+return for their consumption. That portion which he annually 
+saves, as, for the sake of the profit, it isimmediately employed asa 
+capital, is consumed in the same manner, and nearly in the same 
+time too, but by a different set of people: by labourers, manufac- 
+turers, and artificers, who reproduce, with a profit, the value of 
+their annual consumption. His revenue, we shall suppose, is paid 
+him in money. Had he spent the whole, the food, clothing, and 
+lodging, which thewholecould have purchased, would have been 
+distributed among theformer set of people. By saving a part of it, 
+as that part is, for the sake of the profit, immediately employed as 
+a capital, either by himsdf or by some other person, the food, 
+
+
+
+276 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+clothing, and lodging, which may be purchased with it, areneces- 
+sarily reserved for the latter. Theconsumption isthesame, butthe 
+consumers are different. 
+
+By what a frugal man annually saves, he not only affords main- 
+tenance to an additional number of productive hands, for that of 
+the ensuing year, but like the founder of a public work-house he 
+establishes, as it were, aperpetual fund for themaintenanceof an 
+equal number in all times to come. The perpetual allotment and 
+destination of this fund, indeed, is not always guarded by any 
+positive law, by any trust-right or deed of mortmain. Itisalways 
+guarded, however, by a very powerful principle, theplain and evi- 
+dent interest of every individual to whom any shareof it shall ever 
+belong. N o part of it can ever afterwards beemployed to maintain 
+any but productive hands, without an evident loss to the person 
+who thus perverts it from its proper destination. 
+
+The prodigal perverts it in this manner: By not confining his 
+expense within his income, he encroaches upon his capital. Like 
+him who perverts the revenues of some pious foundation to pro- 
+fanepurposes, hepaysthewages of idleness with thosefunds which 
+the frugality of his forefathers had, as it were, consecrated to the 
+maintenance of industry. By diminishing the funds destined for 
+the employment of productive labour, he necessarily diminishes, 
+so far as it depends upon him, the quantity of that labour which 
+
+
+
+adds a value to the subject upon which it is bestowed, and, conse- 
+quently, thevalueoftheannual produceof the land and labour of 
+the whole country, the real wealth and revenue of its inhabitants. 
+If the prodigality of some were not compensated by the frugality 
+of others, the conduct of every prodigal, by feeding the idle with 
+the bread of the industrious, would tend not only to beggar him- 
+self, but to impoverish his country. 
+
+T hough theexpenseoftheprodigal should be altogether in home 
+made, and no part of it in foreign commodities, its effect upon 
+the productive funds of the society would still bethesame. Every 
+year there would still be a certain quantity of food and clothing, 
+which ought to have maintained productive, employed in main- 
+taining unproductive hands. Every year, therefore, there would 
+still be some diminution in what would otherwise have been the 
+valueoftheannual produceof theland and labour of thecountry 
+
+T hisexpense, it may besaid, indeed, not being in foreign goods, 
+and not occasioning any exportation of gold and silver, the same 
+quantity of money would remain in the country as before. But if 
+the quantity of food and clothing which were thus consumed by 
+unproductive, had been distributed among productive hands, they 
+would have reproduced, together with a profit, the full value of 
+their consumption. T he same quantity of money would, in this 
+case, equally have remained in thecountry, and there would, be- 
+
+
+
+277 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+sides, have been a reproduction of an equal value of consumable 
+goods. There would have been two values instead of one. 
+
+The same quantity of money, besides, can not long remain in 
+any country in which thevalueoftheannual producediminishes. 
+Thesoleuseof money is to circulate consumablegoods. By means 
+of it, provisions, materials, and finished work, are bought and 
+sold, and distributed to their proper consumers. The quantity of 
+money, therefore, which can be annually employed in any coun- 
+try, must be determined by the value of the consumable goods 
+annually circulated within it. These must consist, either in the 
+immediateproduceoftheland and labour of thecountry itself, or 
+in something which had been purchased with some part of that 
+produceTheirvalue, therefore, must diminish as thevalueof that 
+producediminishes, and along with itthequantity of money which 
+can be employed in circulating them. But the money which, by 
+this annual diminution of produce, is annually thrown out of 
+domestic circulation, will not be allowed to lie idle. The interest 
+of whoever possesses it requires that it should be employed; but 
+having no employment at home, it will, in spite of all laws and 
+prohibitions, be sent abroad, and employed in purchasing con- 
+sumable goods, which may be of some use at home. Its annual 
+exportation will, in this manner, continue for some time to add 
+something to the annual consumption of thecountry beyond the 
+
+
+
+value of its own annual produce. What in the days of its prosper- 
+ity had been saved from that annual produce, and employed in 
+purchasing gold and silver, will contribute, for somelittletime, to 
+support its consumption in adversity. The exportation of gold and 
+silver is, in thiscase, notthecause, but the effect of its declension, 
+and may even, for some little time, alleviate the misery of that 
+declension. 
+
+The quantity of money, on the contrary, must in every country 
+naturally increase as the value of the annual produce increases. 
+Thevalueof theconsumablegoodsannuallycirculated within the 
+society being greater, will require a greater quantity of money to 
+circulate them. A part of the increased produce, therefore, will 
+naturally be employed in purchasing, wherever it isto behad, the 
+additional quantity of gold and silver necessary for circulating the 
+rest. The increase of those metals will, in thiscase, be the effect, 
+not the cause, of the public prosperity. Gold and silver are pur- 
+chased everywhere in the same manner. The food, clothing, and 
+lodging, the revenue and maintenance, of all those whose labour 
+or stock is em ployed in bringing them from the mineto the mar- 
+ket, is the price paid for them in Peru as well as in England. The 
+country which has this price to pay, will never belong without the 
+quantity of those metals which it has occasion for; and no country 
+will ever long retain a quantity which it has no occasion for. 
+
+
+
+278 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+W hatever, therefore, we may imagine the real wealth and rev- 
+enue of a country to consist in, whether in the valueoftheannual 
+produce of its land and labour, as plain reason seems to dictate, or 
+in thequantityof thepreciousmetalswhich circulatewithin it, as 
+vulgar prejudices suppose; in either view of thematter, every prodi- 
+gal appears to be a public enemy, and every frugal man a public 
+benefactor. 
+
+T he effects of misconduct are often the same as those of prodi- 
+gality. Every injudicious and unsuccessful project in agriculture, 
+mines, fisheries, trade, or manufactures, tends in the same man- 
+ner to diminish the funds destined for the maintenance of pro- 
+ductive labour. In every such project, though the capital is con- 
+sumed by productive hands only, yet as, by the injudicious man- 
+ner in which they are employed, they do not reproduce the full 
+value of their consumption, there must always be some diminu- 
+tion in what would otherwise have been the productive funds of 
+the society. 
+
+Itcan seldom happen, indeed, that the circumstances of a great 
+nation can be much affected either by the prodigality or miscon- 
+duct of individuals; the profusion or imprudence of some being 
+always more than compensated by the frugality and good conduct 
+of others. 
+
+With regard to profusion, the principle which prompts to ex- 
+
+
+
+pense is the passion for present enjoyment; which, though some- 
+times violent and very difficult to be restrained, isin general only 
+momentary and occasional. But the principle which prompts to 
+save, isthedesireof bettering our condition; a desire which, though 
+generally calm and dispassionate, comes with us from the womb, 
+and never I eaves us til I we go intothegrave. In the whole interval 
+which separates those two moments, there is scarce, perhaps, a 
+single instance, in which any man is so perfectly and completely 
+satisfied with hissituation, as to be without any wish of alteration 
+or improvement of any kind. An augmentation of fortune is the 
+means by which the greater part of men propose and wish to bet- 
+ter their condition. It is the means the most vulgar and the most 
+obvious; and the most likely way of augmenting their fortune, is 
+to save and accumulate some part of what they acquire, either 
+regularly and annually, or upon some extraordinary occasion. 
+Though the principle of expense, therefore, prevails in almost all 
+men upon some occasions, and in some men upon almost all oc- 
+casions; yet in the greater part of men, taking the whole course of 
+their lifeat an average, theprincipleof frugality seems not only to 
+predominate, but to predominate very greatly. 
+
+With regard to misconduct, the number of prudent and suc- 
+cessful undertakings is everywhere much greater than that of inju- 
+diciousand unsuccessful ones. After all our complaints of the fre- 
+
+
+
+279 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+quency of bankruptcies, the unhappy men who fall into this mis- 
+fortune, make but a very small part of the whole number engaged 
+in trade, and all other sorts of business; not much more, perhaps, 
+than one in a thousand. Bankruptcy is, perhaps, the greatest and 
+most humiliating calamity which can befalan innocent man. The 
+greater part of men, therefore, are sufficiently careful to avoid it. 
+Some, indeed, do not avoid it; as some do not avoid the gal lows. 
+Great nations are never impoverished by private, though they 
+sometimes are by public prodigality and misconduct. T he whole, 
+or almost the wholepublicrevenueis, in most countries, employed 
+in maintaining unproductivehands. Such are thepeoplewho com- 
+pose a numerous and splendid court, a great ecclesiastical estab- 
+lishment, great fleets and armies, who in time of peace produce 
+nothing, and in time of war acquire nothing which can compen- 
+sate the expense of maintaining them, even while the war lasts. 
+Such people, as they themselves produce nothing, are all main- 
+tained by the produce of other men's labour. When multiplied, 
+therefore, to an unnecessary number, they may in a particular year 
+consume so great a share of this produce, as not to leave a suffi- 
+ciency for maintaining the productive labourers, who should re 
+produce it next year. The next year's produce, therefore, will be 
+less than that of the foregoing; and if the same disorder should 
+continue, that of the third year will be still less than that of the 
+
+
+
+second. T hose unproductive hands who should be maintained by 
+a part only of the spare revenue of the people, may consume so 
+great a share of their whole revenue, and thereby oblige so great a 
+number to encroach upon their capitals, upon thefundsdestined 
+for the maintenance of productive labour, that all the frugality 
+and good conduct of individuals may not be able to compensate 
+the waste and degradation of produce occasioned by this violent 
+and forced encroachment. 
+
+This frugality and good conduct, however, is, upon most occa- 
+sions, it appearsfrom experience, sufficient to compensate, not only 
+theprivate prodigality and misconduct of individuals, butthepub- 
+lic extravagance of government. The uniform, constant, and unin- 
+terrupted effort of every man to better his condition, the principle 
+from which public and national, aswell asprivateopulenceisorigi- 
+nally derived, isfrequently powerful enough to maintain thenatural 
+progress of things towards improvement, in spite both of the ex- 
+travagance of government, and of the greatest errors of administra- 
+tion. Like the unknown principle of animal life, it frequently re- 
+storeshealth and vigourtotheconstitution, in spitenotonlyof the 
+disease, but of the absurd prescriptions of the doctor. 
+
+Theannual produceof theland and labour of any nation can be 
+increased in its value by no other means, but by increasing either 
+the number of its productive labourers, or the productive powers 
+
+
+
+280 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+of those labourers who had before been employed. Thenumber of 
+its productive labourers, itisevident, can never bemuch increased, 
+but in consequence of an increase of capital, or of the funds des- 
+tined for maintaining them. The productive powers of the same 
+number of labourers cannot be increased, but in consequence ei- 
+ther of some addition and improvement to those machines and 
+instrumen ts which facilitate and abridgelabour, or of moreproper 
+division and distribution of employment. In either case, an addi- 
+tional capital is almost always required. It is by means of an addi- 
+tional capital only, that the undertaker of any work can either 
+providehisworkmen with better machinery, or make a moreproper 
+distribution of employment among them. W hen the work to be 
+done consists of a number of parts, to keep every man constantly 
+employed in oneway, requires a much greater capital than where 
+every man is occasionally employed in every different part of the 
+work. W hen we compare, therefore, the state of a nation at two 
+different periods, and find that theannual produceof its land and 
+labour is evidently greater at the latter than at the former, that its 
+lands are better cultivated, its manufactures more numerous and 
+more flourishing, and its trade more extensive; we may be assured 
+that its capital must have increased during the interval between 
+those two periods, and that more must have been added to it by 
+the good conduct of some, than had been taken from it either by 
+
+
+
+the private misconduct of others, or by the public extravagance of 
+government. But we shall find thisto have been thecaseof almost 
+all nations, in all tolerably quiet and peaceable times, even of those 
+who have not enjoyed the most prudent and parsimonious gov- 
+ernments. To form a right judgment of it, indeed, we must com- 
+pare the state of the country at periods somewhat distant from 
+one another. T he progress is frequently so gradual, that, at near 
+periods, the improvement is not only not sensible, but, from the 
+declension either of certain branchesof industry, or of certain dis- 
+tricts of the country, things which sometimes happen, though the 
+country in general is in great prosperity, there frequently arises a 
+suspicion, that the riches and industry of the whole are decaying. 
+The annual produce of the land and labour of England, for 
+example, iscertainly much greater than it was a little more than a 
+century ago, at the restoration of C harles 1 1 . T hough at present 
+few people, I believe, doubt of this, yet during this period five 
+years have seldom passed away, in which some book or pamphlet 
+hasnot been published, written, too, with such abilities as to gain 
+some authority with the public, and pretending to demonstrate 
+that the wealth of the nation was fast declining; that the country 
+was depopulated, agriculture neglected, manufactures decaying, 
+and tradeundone. Nor have thesepublicationsbeen all party pam- 
+phlets, thewretched offspring of falsehood and venality. M any of 
+
+
+
+281 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+them have been written by very candid and very intelligent people, 
+who wrote nothing but what they believed, and for no other rea- 
+son but because they believed it. 
+
+Theannual produce of the land and labour of England, again, 
+was certainly much greater at the Restoration than we can sup- 
+pose it to have been about a hundred years before, at theaccession 
+of Elizabeth. At this period, too, we have all reason to believe, the 
+country was much more advanced in improvement, than it had 
+been about a century before, towards the close of the dissensions 
+between the houses of York and Lancaster. Even then it was, prob- 
+ably, in a better condition than it had been at the N orman con- 
+quest: and at the N orman conquest, than during the confusion of 
+the Saxon heptarchy. Even at this early period, it was certainly a 
+moreimproved country than attheinvasion ofJuliusCaesar, when 
+its inhabitants were nearly in the same state with the savages in 
+North America. 
+
+In each of those periods, however, there was not only much 
+private and public profusion, many expensive and unnecessary 
+wars, great perversion of theannual produce from maintaining 
+productive to maintain unproductive hands; but sometimes, in 
+the confusion of civil discord, such absolute waste and destruc- 
+tion of stock, as might be supposed, not only to retard, as it cer- 
+tainly did, the natural accumulation of riches, but to have left the 
+
+
+
+country, at the end of the period, poorer than at the beginning. 
+Thus, in the happiest and most fortunate period of them all, that 
+which has passed si nee the Restoration, how many disorders and 
+misfortunes have occurred, which, could they have been foreseen, 
+not only the impoverishment, but the total ruin of the country 
+would have been expected from them?Thefireand theplagueof 
+London, thetwo Dutch wars, the disorders of the revolution, the 
+war in Ireland, the four expensive French wars of 1688, 1701, 
+1742, and 1756, together with thetwo rebellions of 1715 and 
+1745. In the course of the four French wars, the nation has con- 
+tracted more than £145,000,000 of debt, over and above all the 
+other extraordinary annual expense which they occasioned; so that 
+thewholecannot be computed at less than £200,000,000. So great 
+a share of the annual produce of the land and labour of the coun- 
+try, has, since the Revolution, been employed upon different oc- 
+casions, in maintaining an extraordinary number of unproductive 
+hands. But had not those wars given this particular direction to so 
+large a capital, the greater part of it would naturally have been 
+employed in maintaining productive hands, whose labour would 
+have replaced, with a profit, the whole value of their consump- 
+tion. The value of theannual produce of the land and labour of 
+the country would have been considerably increased by it every 
+year, and every years increase would have augmented still more 
+
+
+
+282 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+that of the following year. M ore houses would have been built, 
+morelandswould have been improved, and those which had been 
+improved before would have been better cultivated; more manu- 
+factures would have been established, and those which had been 
+established before would have been more extended; and to what 
+height the real wealth and revenue of the country might by this 
+timehavebeen raised, it is not perhaps very easy even to imagine. 
+But though the profusion of government must undoubtedly have 
+retarded the natural progress of England towards wealth and im- 
+provement, ithasnotbeen ableto stop it. Theannual produce of 
+its land and labour is undoubtedly much greater at present than it 
+was either at the Restoration or at the Revolution. The capital, 
+therefore, annually employed in cultivating thisland, and in main- 
+tainingthislabour, must likewise bemuch greater. In themidst of 
+all the exactions of government, this capital has been silently and 
+gradually accumulated by the private frugality and good conduct 
+of individuals, by their universal, continual, and uninterrupted 
+effort to better their own condition. It isthiseffort, protected by 
+law, and allowed by liberty to exert itself in the manner that is 
+most advantageous, which hasmaintained theprogress of England 
+towards opulence and improvement in almost all former times, 
+and which, it is to be hoped, will do so in all future times. En- 
+gland, however, as it has never been blessed with a very parsimoni- 
+
+
+
+ous government, so parsimony has at no time been thecharacter- 
+istic virtue of its inhabitants. It is the highest impertinence and 
+presumption, therefore, in kings and ministers to pretend to watch 
+over the economy of private people, and to restrain theirexpense, 
+either by sumptuary laws, or by prohibiting the importation of 
+foreign luxuries They are themselves always, and without any ex- 
+ception, the greatest spendthrifts in the society. Let them look 
+well after their own expense, and they may safely trust private 
+people with theirs. If their own extravagance does not ruin the 
+state, th at of th e su bj ect n ever will. 
+
+As frugality increases, and prodigality diminishes, the public 
+capital, so the conduct of those whose expense just equals their 
+revenue, without either accumulating or encroaching, neither in- 
+creases nor diminishes it. Some modes of expense, however, seem 
+to contribute more to the growth of public opulence than others. 
+
+The revenue of an individual may be spent, either in things 
+which are consumed immediately, and in which one day's expense 
+can neither alleviate nor support that of another; or it may be 
+spent in things mere durable, which can therefore be accumu- 
+lated, and in which every day's expense may, as he chooses, either 
+alleviate, or support and heighten, the effect of that of the follow- 
+ing day. A man of fortune, for example, may either spend hisrev- 
+enuein a profuse and sumptuoustable, and in maintaining a great 
+
+
+
+283 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+number of menial servants, and a multitude of dogs and horses; 
+or, contenting himself with a frugal table, and few attendants, he 
+may lay out the greater part of it in adorning his house or his 
+country villa, in useful or ornamental buildings, in useful or orna- 
+mental furniture, in collecting books, statues, pictures; or in things 
+more frivolous, jewels, baubles, ingenious trinkets of different 
+kinds; or, what ismosttriflingof all, in amassing a great wardrobe 
+of fine clothes, like the favourite and minister of a great prince 
+who died a few years ago. Were two men of equal fortuneto spend 
+their revenue, the one chiefly in the one way, the other in the 
+other, the magnificence of the person whose expense had been 
+chiefly in durable commodities, would be continually increasing, 
+every day's expense contributing something to support and 
+heighten the effect of that of the following day; that of the other, 
+on the contrary, would be no greater at the end of the period than 
+at the beginning. Theformer too would, attheend of theperiod, 
+be the richer man of the two. H e would have a stock of goods of 
+some kind or other, which, though it might not be worth all that 
+it cost, would always be worth something. N o trace or vestige of 
+the expense of the latter would remain, and the effects of ten or 
+twenty years' profusion would be as completely annihilated as if 
+they had never existed. 
+As the one mode of expense is more favourable than the other 
+
+
+
+to the opulence of an individual, so is it likewise to that of a na- 
+tion. The houses, thefurniture, the clothing of the rich, in a little 
+time, become useful to the inferior and middling ranks of people. 
+They are able to purchase them when their superiors grow weary 
+of them; and the general accommodation of the whole people is 
+thusgradually improved, when thismodeof expense becomesuni- 
+versal among men of fortune. In countries which have long been 
+rich, you will frequently find the inferior ranks of people in pos- 
+session both of houses and furniture perfectly good and entire, 
+but of which neither the one could have been built, northeother 
+have been made for their use. W hat was formerly a seat of the 
+family of Seymour, is now an inn upon the Bath road. The mar- 
+riage-bed of James I. of Great Britain, which his queen brought 
+with her from Denmark, asa present fit for a sovereign to maketo 
+a sovereign, was, a few years ago, the ornament of an alehouse at 
+D unfermline. I n someancient cities, which either have been long 
+stationary, or have gone somewhat to decay, you will sometimes 
+scarcefind a singlehouse which could have been built for its present 
+inhabitants. If you go into those houses, too, you will frequently 
+find many excel lent, though antiquated pieces of furniture, which 
+are still very fit for use, and which could as little have been made 
+for them. Noble palaces, magnificent villas, great collections of 
+books, statues, pictures, and other curiosities, are frequently both 
+
+
+
+284 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+an ornament and an honour, not only to the neighbourhood, but 
+to the whole country to which they belong. Versailles is an orna- 
+ment and an honour to France, Stowe and Wilton to England. 
+Italy still continues to command some sort of veneration, by the 
+number of monuments of thiskind which it possesses, though the 
+wealth which produced them hasdecayed, and though thegenius 
+which planned them seems to be extinguished, perhaps from not 
+having the same employment. 
+
+T he expense, too, which is laid out in durable commodities, is 
+favourable not only to accumulation, but to frugality. If a person 
+should at any time exceed in it, he can easily reform without ex- 
+posing himself to the censure of the public. To reduce very much 
+the number of his servants, to reform his table from great profu- 
+sion to great frugality, to lay down his equipage after he has once 
+set it up, are changes which cannot escape the observation of his 
+neighbours, and which are supposed to imply some acknowledg- 
+ment of preceding bad conduct. Few, therefore, of those who have 
+once been so unfortunate as to launch out too far into this sort of 
+expense, haveafterwardsthecourageto reform, till ruin and bank- 
+ruptcy oblige them. But if a person has, at any time, been at too 
+great an expense in building, in furniture, in books, or pictures, 
+no imprudence can be inferred from his changing his conduct. 
+These are things in which further expense is frequ en tly rendered 
+
+
+
+unnecessary by former expense; and when a person stops short, he 
+appears to do so, not because he has exceeded his fortune, but 
+because he has satisfied his fancy. 
+
+The expense, besides, that is laid out in durable commodities, 
+gives maintenance, commonly, to a greater number of peoplethan 
+that which isemployed in the most profuse hospitality. Of two or 
+three hundred weight of provisions, which may sometimes be 
+served up at a great festival, one half, perhaps, is thrown to the 
+dunghill, and there is always a great deal wasted and abused. But 
+if theexpenseof thisentertainmenthad been employed in setting 
+to work masons, carpenters, upholsterers, mechanics, etc. a quan- 
+tity of provisionsof equal valuewould have been distributed among 
+a still greater number of people, who would have bought them in 
+pennyworths and pound weights, and not have lost or thrown 
+away a single ounce of them. In the one way, besides, this expense 
+maintains productive, in the other unproductive hands. In the 
+one way, therefore, it increases, in the other it does not increase 
+the exchangeable value of the annual produce of the land and 
+labour of the country. 
+
+I would not, however, by all this, be understood to mean, that 
+the one species of expense always betokens a more liberal or gen- 
+erous spirit than the other. When a man of fortune spends his 
+revenue chiefly in hospitality, he shares the greater part of it with 
+
+
+
+285 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+his friends and companions; but when he employs it in purchas- 
+ing such durable commodities, he often spends the whole upon 
+hisown person, and gives nothing to any body without an equiva- 
+lent. T he latter species of expense, therefore, especially when di- 
+rected towards frivolous objects, the little ornaments of dress and 
+furniture, jewels, trinkets, gew-gaws, frequently indicates, not only 
+atrifling, but a base and selfish disposition. All that I mean is, that 
+the one sort of expense, as it always occasions some accumulation 
+of valuable commodities, as it is more favourable to private fru- 
+gality, and, consequently, to the increaseofthepublic capital, and 
+as it maintains productive rather than unproductive hands, 
+conduces more than the other to the growth of public opulence. 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV 
+
+OF STOCK LENT AT INTEREST 
+
+The stock which islent at interest isalways considered asa capi- 
+tal bythelender. He expects that in duetimeitisto be restored to 
+him, and that, in the mean time, the borrower is to pay him a 
+certain annual rent for the use of it. The borrower may use it 
+either asa capital, or asa stock reserved for immediate consump- 
+tion. If he uses it as a capital, heemploysit in the maintenance of 
+productive labourers, who reproduce the value, with a profit. H e 
+can, in this case, both restore the capital, and pay the interest, 
+without alienating or encroaching upon any other source of rev- 
+enue. If heuses it asastock reserved forimmediate consumption, 
+he acts the part of a prodigal, and dissipates, in the maintenance 
+of the idle, what was destined for the support of the industrious. 
+H e can, in this case, neither restore the capital nor pay the inter- 
+est, without either alienating or encroaching upon some other 
+source of revenue, such as the property or the rent of land. 
+
+The stock which is lent at interest is, no doubt, occasionally 
+employed in both these ways, but in the former much more fre- 
+quently than in the latter. The man who borrows in order to spend 
+will soon be ruined, and hewho lendstohim will generally have 
+
+
+
+286 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+occasion to repent of his folly. To borrow or to lend for such a 
+purpose, therefore, is, in all cases, where gross usury is out of the 
+question, contrary to the interest of both parties; and though it no 
+doubt happens sometimes, that people do both the one and the 
+other, yet, from the regard that all men have for their own interest, 
+we may be assured, that it cannot happen so very frequently as we 
+are sometimes apt to imagine. Ask any rich man of common pru- 
+dence, to which of the two sorts of people he has lent the greater 
+part of hisstock, to those who hethinks will employ it profitably, 
+or to those who will spend it idly, and he will laugh at you for 
+proposing the question. Even among borrowers, therefore, not 
+the people in the world most famousfor frugality, the number of 
+thefrugal and industrioussurpasses considerably that of theprodi- 
+gal and idle. 
+
+T heonlypeopleto whom stock iscommonly lent, without their 
+being expected to make any very profitable use of it, are country 
+gentlemen, who borrow upon mortgage. Even they scarce ever 
+borrow merely to spend. What they borrow, one may say, is com- 
+monly spent before they borrow it. They have generally consumed 
+so great a quantity of goods, advanced to them upon credit by 
+shop-keepers and tradesmen, that they find it necessary to borrow 
+at interest, in order to pay the debt. The capital borrowed replaces 
+the capitals of those shop-keepers and tradesmen which thecoun- 
+
+
+
+try gentlemen could not have replaced from the rents of their es- 
+tates. It isnot properly borrowed in order to bespent, but in order 
+to replace a capital which had been spent before. 
+
+Almost all loans at interest are made in money, either of paper, 
+or of gold and silver; but what the borrower really wants, and 
+what the lender readily supplies him with, is not the money, but 
+the money's worth, or thegoods which it can purchase. If he wants 
+it as a stock for immediate consumption, it is those goods only 
+which he can place in that stock. If he wants it as a capital for 
+employing industry, it is from those goods only that the industri- 
+ous can be furnished with the tools, materials, and maintenance 
+necessary for carrying on their work. By means of the loan, the 
+lender, as it were, assigns to the borrower his right to a certain 
+portion of theannual produceoftheland and labour of thecoun- 
+try, to be employed as the borrower pleases. 
+
+T hequantity of stock, therefore, or, as it iscommonly expressed, 
+of money, which can be lent at interest in any country, is not 
+regulated by thevalueofthemoney, whether paper or coin, which 
+serves as theinstrument of thedifferent loansmadein that coun- 
+try, but by the value of that part of theannual produce, which, as 
+soon as it comes either from the ground, or from the hands of the 
+productive labourers, isdestined, not only for replacing a capital, 
+but such a capital astheownerdoesnotcaretobeatthetroubleof 
+
+
+
+287 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+employing himself. As such capitals are commonly lent out and 
+paid back in money, they constitute what is called the monied 
+interest. It is distinct, not only from the landed, but from the 
+trading and manufacturing interests, as in these last the owners 
+themselves employ their own capitals. Even in the monied inter- 
+est, however, the money is, as it were, but the deed of assignment, 
+which conveys from one hand to an other those capitals which the 
+owners do not care to employ themselves. T hose capitals may be 
+greater, in almost any proportion, than theamount of the money 
+which serves as theinstrument of their conveyance; thesamepieces 
+of money successively serving for many different loans, as well as 
+for many different purchases. A, for example, lends to W £1000, 
+with which W immediately purchasesof B £1000 worth of goods. 
+B having no occasion for the money himself, lends the identical 
+pieces to X, with which X immediately purchasesof C another 
+£1000 worth of goods. C , in the same manner, and for the same 
+reason, lendsthemtoY, who again purchases goods with them of 
+D. In this manner, the same pieces, either of coin or of paper, 
+may, in the course of a few days, serve as the Instrument of three 
+different loans, and of three different purchases, each of which is, 
+in value, equal to the whole amount of those pieces. What the 
+three monied men, A, B, and C, assigned to the three borrowers, 
+W,X,andY, isthe power of making those purchases. In this power 
+
+
+
+consist both thevalueandtheuseoftheloans.Thestock lent by the 
+three monied men is equal to the value of the goods which can be 
+purchased with it, and is three times greater than that of the money 
+with which the purchases are made. T hose loans, however, may be 
+all perfectly well secured, thegoodspurchased by thedifferent debt- 
+ors being so employed as, in duetime, to bring back, with a profit, 
+an equal value either of coin or of paper. And as the same pieces of 
+money can thus serve as the instrument of different loans to three, 
+or, for the same reason, to thirty times their value, so they may 
+likewise successively serve as the instrument of repayment. 
+
+A capital lent at interest may, in this manner, be considered as 
+an assignment, from the lender to the borrower, of a certain con- 
+siderable portion of theannual produce, upon condition that the 
+burrower in return shall, during the continuance of the loan, an- 
+nually assign to the lender a small portion, called theinterest; and, 
+at the end of it, a portion equally considerable with that which 
+had originally been assigned to him, called therepayment. T hough 
+money, either coin or paper, serves generally as the deed of assign- 
+ment, both to thesmaller and to themoreconsiderableportion, it 
+is itself altogether different from what is assigned by it. 
+
+In proportion as that share of the annual produce which, as 
+soon as it comes either from the ground, or from the hands of the 
+productive labourers, is destined for replacing a capital, increases 
+
+
+
+288 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+in any country, what is called the monied interest naturally in- 
+creases with it. The increase of those parti cularcapitalsfrom which 
+the owners wish to derive a revenue, without being at the trouble 
+of em ploying them them selves, naturally accompanies thegeneral 
+increaseof capitals; or, in other words, as stock increases, thequan- 
+tity of stock to belent at interest grows gradually greater and greater. 
+Asthequantity of stock to be lent at interest increases, theinter- 
+est, or the price which must be paid for the use of that stock, 
+necessarily diminishes, not only from those general causes which 
+makethemarketpriceofthingscommonly diminish as their quan- 
+tity increases, but from other causes which are peculiar to this 
+particular case. Ascapitalsincreasein any country, theprofits which 
+can bemadebyemployingthem necessarily diminish. Itbecomes 
+gradually more and more difficult to find within the country a 
+profitable method of employing any new capital. There arises, in 
+consequence, a competition between different capitals, the owner 
+of one endeavouring to get possession of that employment which 
+isoccupied by another; but, upon most occasions, hecan hope to 
+justlethat other out of thisemployment by no other meansbut by 
+dealing upon more reasonable terms. He must not only sell what 
+he deals in somewhat cheaper, but, in order to get it to sell, he 
+must sometimes, too, buy it dearer. The demand for productive 
+labour, by the increase of the funds which are destined for main- 
+
+
+
+taining it, growsevery day greater and greater. Labourers easilyfind 
+employment; but the owners of capitals find it difficult to get 
+labourers to employ. T heir competition raises the wages of labour, 
+and sinks the prof its of stock. But when the profits which can be 
+made by the use of a capital are in this manner diminished, as it 
+were, at both ends, theprice which can be paid for the use of it, that 
+is, the rate of interest, must necessarily bediminished with them. 
+
+M r Locke, M r Lawe, and M r M ontesquieu, as well as many 
+otherwriters, seemtohaveimaginedthattheincreaseofthequan- 
+tityofgoldandsilver, inconsequenceofthediscoveryoftheSpan- 
+ish West Indies, was the real cause of the lowering of the rate of 
+interest through the greater part of Europe. Those metals, they 
+say, having become of less value themselves, the use of any par- 
+ticular portion of them necessarily became of less value too, and, 
+consequently, the price which could be paid for it. This notion, 
+which at first sight seems so plausible, has been so fully exposed 
+by M r H ume, that it is, perhaps, unnecessary to say any thing 
+more about it.Thefollowing very short and plain argument, how- 
+ever, may serve to explain more distinctly thefallacy which seems 
+to have misled those gentlemen. 
+
+Before the discovery of the Spanish West Indies, ten percent, 
+seemsto have been thecommon rateof interest through thegreater 
+part of Europe. It has si nee that time, in different countries, sunk 
+
+
+
+289 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+to six, five, four, and three per cent. Let us suppose, that in every 
+particular country thevalueof silver has sunk precisely in thesame 
+proportion astherateof interest; and that in those countries, for 
+example, where interest has been reduced from ten to five per 
+cent, the same quantity of silver can now purchase just half the 
+quantity of goods which itcould havepurchased before. This sup- 
+position will not, I believe, be found anywhere agreeable to the 
+truth; but it is the most favourable to the opinion which we are 
+going to examine; and, even upon this supposition, it is utterly 
+impossiblethat the lowering of thevalueof silver could have the 
+smallest tendency to lower therateof interest. If £100 arein those 
+countries now of no more value than £50 were then, £10 must 
+now be of no more value than £5 were then. Whatever were the 
+causes which lowered thevalueof the capital, the same must nec- 
+essarily have lowered that of the interest, and exactly in thesame 
+proportion. The proportion between thevalueof the capital and 
+that of the interest must have remained the same, though the rate 
+had never been altered. By altering the rate, on the contrary, the 
+proportion between those two valuesisnecessarily altered. If £100 
+now areworth no more than £50 were then, £5 now can beworth 
+no more than £2:10s. were then. By reducing the rate of interest, 
+therefore, from ten to five per cent, wegivefor the useof a capital, 
+which is supposed to be equal to one half of its former value, an 
+
+
+
+interest which isequal to onefourth only of thevalueof theformer 
+interest. 
+
+An increasein thequantity of silver, whilethat of thecommodi- 
+ties circulated by means of it remained the same, could have no 
+other effect than to diminish thevalueof that metal. Thenominal 
+value of all sorts of goods would be greater, but their real value 
+would be precisely the same as before. T hey would be exchanged 
+for a greater number of pieces of silver; but the quantity of labour 
+which they could command, the number of people whom they 
+could maintain and employ, would be precisely the same. The 
+capital of the country would be the same, though a greater num- 
+ber of pieces might be requisite for conveying any equal portion 
+of it from one hand to another. T he deedsof assignment, like the 
+conveyances of a verbose attorney, would be more cumbersome; 
+but thething assigned would be precisely the same as before, and 
+could produce only the same effects. The funds for maintaining 
+productive labour being thesame, thedemand for it would be the 
+same. Itspriceor wages, therefore, though nominally greater, would 
+really be the same. They would be paid in a greater number of 
+pieces of silver, but they would purchase only the same quantity 
+of goods. The profits of stock would be thesame, both nominally 
+and really. T he wages of labour are commonly computed by the 
+quantity of silver which is paid to the labourer. W hen that is in- 
+
+
+
+290 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+creased, therefore, his wages appear to be increased, though they 
+may sometimes be no greater than before. But the profits of stock 
+are not computed by the number of pieces of silver with which 
+they are paid, but by the proportion which those pieces bear to 
+the whole capital employed. Thus, in a particular country, 5s. a- 
+week aresaid to bethecommon wages of labour, and ten per cent, 
+thecommon prof its of stock; butthewholecapital of thecountry 
+being the same as before, the competition between the different 
+capitalsof individualsinto which it wasdivided would likewise be 
+the same. They would all trade with the same advantages and dis- 
+advantages. Thecommon proportion between capital and profit, 
+therefore, would bethesame, and consequently thecommon in- 
+terest of money; what can commonly be given for theuseof money 
+being necessarily regulated by what can commonly be made by 
+theuseof it. 
+
+Any increase in the quantity of commodities annually circu- 
+lated within the country, while that of the money which circu- 
+lated them remained the same, would, on the contrary, produce 
+many other important effects, besides that of raising the value of 
+the money. The capital of thecountry, though it might nominally 
+bethesame, would really be augmented. Itmightcontinuetobe 
+expressed by the same quantity of money, but it would command 
+a greater quantity of labour. The quantity of productive labour 
+
+
+
+which it could maintain and employ would beincreased, and con- 
+sequently the demand for that labour. Its wages would naturally 
+rise with the demand, and yet might appear to sink. They might 
+be paid with a smaller quantity of money, but that smaller quan- 
+tity might purchase a greater quantity of goods than a greater had 
+done before. The profits of stock would be diminished, both re- 
+ally and in appearance. The whole capital of the country being 
+augmented, thecompetition between thedifferent capitalsof which 
+it was composed would naturally be augmented along with it. 
+T he owners of those particular capitals would be obliged to con- 
+tent themselves with a smaller proportion of the produce of that 
+labour which their respective capitals employed. The interest of 
+money, keeping pace always with the profits of stock, might, in 
+thismanner, be greatly diminished, though thevalueof money, or 
+the quantity of goods which any particular sum could purchase, 
+was greatly augmented. 
+
+In some countries the interest of money has been prohibited by 
+law. Butassomethingcan everywhere bemadeby theuseof money, 
+something ought everywhere to be paid for the use of it. This 
+regulation, instead of preventing, has been found from experience 
+to in crease the evil of usury. The debtor being obliged to pay, not 
+only for the use of the money, but for the risk which his creditor 
+runs by accepting a compensation for that use, he is obliged, if 
+
+
+
+291 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+one may say so, to insure his creditor from the penalties of usury. 
+
+In countries where interest is permitted, the law in order to pre 
+vent the extortion of usury, generally fixes the highest rate which 
+can betaken without incurring a penalty. This rate ought always 
+to be somewhat above the lowest market price, or the price which 
+is commonly paid for the useof money by those who can give the 
+most undoubted security. If this legal rate should be fixed below 
+the lowest market rate, the effects of this fixation must be nearly 
+the same as those of a total prohibition of interest. The creditor 
+will not lend his money for less than the use of it isworth, and the 
+debtor must pay him for the risk which he runs by accepting the 
+full value of that use. If it is fixed precisely at the lowest market 
+price, it ruins, with honest people who respect the laws of their 
+country, thecredit of all those who cannot give the very best secu- 
+rity, and obliges them to have recourse to exorbitant usurers. In a 
+country such asG reat Britain, where money is lent to government 
+at three per cent, and to private people, upon good security, at 
+four and four and a-half, the present legal rate, five per cent, is 
+perhaps as proper as any. 
+
+Thelegal rate, itisto be observed, though itoughtto be some- 
+what above, ought not to be much above the lowest market rate. 
+If the legal rate of interest in Great Britain, for example, was fixed 
+so high as eight or ten per cent, the greater part of the money 
+
+
+
+which was to be lent, would be lent to prodigals and projectors, 
+who alonewould bewillingtogivethishigh interest. Sober people, 
+who will give for the use of money no more than a part of what 
+theyarelikelytomakebytheuseof it, would not ventureinto the 
+competition. A great part of thecapital of the country would thus 
+be kept out of the hands which were most likely to make a profit- 
+able and advantageous use of it, and thrown into those which 
+were most likely to waste and destroy it. W here the legal rate of 
+interest, on the contrary, isfixed but a very little above the lowest 
+market rate, sober people are universally preferred, as borrowers, 
+to prodigals and projectors. The person who lends money gets 
+nearly as much interest from the former as he dares to take from 
+thelatter, and his money is much saferin the hands of the one set 
+of peoplethan in those of theother. A great part of the capital of 
+the country is thus thrown into the hands in which it is most 
+likely to be employed with advantage. 
+
+No law can reduce the common rate of interest below the low- 
+est ordinary market rate at the time when that law is made. Not- 
+withstanding the edict of 1766, by which the French king at- 
+tempted to reduce the rate of interest from five to four per cent, 
+money continued to be lent in France at five per cent, the law 
+being evaded in several different ways. 
+
+T heordinary market priceof land, it isto beobserved, depends 
+
+
+
+292 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+everywhere upon the ordi nary market rate of i nterest. T he person 
+who has a capital from which he wishes to derive a revenue, with- 
+out taking the trouble to employ it himself, deliberates whether 
+heshould buy land with it, or lend it out at interest. Thesuperior 
+security of land, together with some other advantages which al- 
+most everywhere attend upon thisspecies of property, will gener- 
+ally dispose him to content himself with a smaller revenue from 
+land, than what he might have by lending out his money at inter- 
+est. T hese advantages are suffi ci ent to compensate a certai n d iffer- 
+ence of revenue; but they will compensateacertain differenceonly; 
+and iftherentof land should fall short of the interest of money by 
+a greater difference, nobody would buy land, which would soon 
+reduceits ordinary price. n thecontrary, if theadvantages should 
+much more than compensate the difference, everybody would buy 
+land, which again would soon raise its ordinary price. When in- 
+terest was at ten per cent, land was commonly sold for ten or 
+twelve years purchase. As interest sunk to six, five, and four per 
+cent, thepriceof land rose to twenty, five-and-twenty, and thirty 
+years purchase. The market rate of interest is higher in France 
+than in England, and the common price of land is lower. In En- 
+gland it commonly sells at thirty, in France at twenty years pur- 
+chase. 
+
+
+
+CHAPTERV 
+
+OFTHE DIFFERENT EM PLOYM ENTS OF 
+CAPITALS 
+
+Though all capitals aredestined for themaintenanceof produc- 
+tive labour only, yet the quantity of that labour which equal capi- 
+tals are capable of putting into motion, varies extremely according 
+to the diversity of their employment; as does likewise the value 
+which that employment adds to the annual produce of the land 
+and labour of the country. 
+
+A capital may be employed in four different ways; either, first, 
+in procuring the rude produce annually required for the use and 
+consumption of the society; or, secondly, in manufacturing and 
+preparing that rudeproduceforimmediateuse and consumption; 
+or, thirdly in transporting either the rude or manufactured pro- 
+duce from the places where they abound to those where they are 
+wanted; or, lastly, in dividing particular portions of either into 
+such small parcels as suit the occasional demands of those who 
+want them. In thefirst way are employed the capitals of all those 
+who undertake improvement or cultivation of lands, mines, or 
+fisheries; in the second, those of all master manufacturers; in the 
+third, those of all wholesale merchants; and in thefourth, thoseof 
+
+
+
+293 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+all retailers. It isdifficult to conceive that a capital should be em- 
+ployed in any way which may not be classed under some one or 
+other of those four. 
+
+Each of those four methodsof employing a capital isessentially 
+necessary either to theexistence or extension of theother three, or 
+to the general conveniency of the society. 
+
+Unless a capital was employed in furnishing rude produce to a 
+certain degree of abundance, neither manufactures nor trade of 
+any kind could exist. 
+
+Unlessa capital was employed in manufacturing that part of the 
+rude produce which requires a good deal of preparation before it 
+can befit for use and consumption, it either would never be pro- 
+duced, because there could be no demand for it; or if it was pro- 
+duced spontaneously, it would be of no value in exchange, and 
+could add nothing to the wealth of the society. 
+
+Unlessa capital was employed in transporting either therudeor 
+manufactured produce from the places where it aboundsto those 
+where it is wanted, no more of either could be produced than was 
+necessary for the con sumption of the neighbourhood. Thecapital 
+of the merchant exchanges the surplus produce of one place for 
+that of another, and thus encourages the industry, and increases 
+the enjoyments of both. 
+
+Unless a capital was employed in breaking and dividing certain 
+
+
+
+portions either of the rude or manufactured produce into such 
+small parcels as suit the occasional demands of those who want 
+them, every man would be obliged to purchase a greater quantity 
+of the goods he wanted than hisimmediateoccasionsrequired. If 
+there was no such tradeasa butcher, for example, every man would 
+beobligedtopurchaseawholeoxorawholesheepatatime.This 
+would generally be inconvenient to therich, and much more so to 
+thepoor. If a poor workman wasobligedtopurchaseamonth'sor 
+six months' provisionsat a time, agreat part of thestock which he 
+em ploys as a capital in the instruments of his trade, or in the fur- 
+niture of his shop, and which yields him a revenue, he would be 
+forced to place in that part of his stock which is reserved for im- 
+mediate consumption, and which yields him no revenue. Noth- 
+ing can be more convenient for such a person than to be able to 
+purchase his subsistence from day to day, or even from hour to 
+hour, as he wants it. H e is thereby enabled to employ almost his 
+whole stock as a capital. He is thus enabled to furnish work to a 
+greater value; and the profit which he makes by it in this way 
+much more than compensatestheadditional price which theprofit 
+of the retailer imposes upon the goods. T he prejudices of some 
+political writers again st shop keepers and tradesmen are altogether 
+without foundation. So far is it from being necessary either to tax 
+them, or to restrict their numbers, that they can never be multi- 
+
+
+
+294 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+plied so as to hurt the public, though they may so as to hurt one 
+another. The quantity of grocery goods, for example, which can 
+be sold in a particular town, is limited by the demand of that 
+town and itsneighbourhood.Thecapital, therefore, which can be 
+employed in the grocery trade, cannot exceed what is sufficient to 
+purchase that quantity. If this capital is divided between two dif- 
+ferent grocers, their competition will tend to make both of them 
+sell cheaper than if it were in the hands of one only; and if it were 
+divided among twenty, their competition would bejust so much 
+the greater, and the chance of their combining together, in order 
+to raise the price, just so much the less. T heir competition might, 
+perhaps, ruin some of themselves; but to take care of this, is the 
+business of the parties concerned, and it may safely be trusted to 
+their discretion. It can never hurt either the consumer or the pro- 
+ducer; on the contrary, it must tend to make the retailers both sell 
+cheaper and buy dearer, than if the wholetrade was monopolized 
+by one or two persons. Some of them, perhaps, may sometimes 
+decoy a weak customer to buy what he has no occasion for. T his 
+evil, however, is of too little importance to deserve the public at- 
+tention, nor would it necessarily be prevented by restricting their 
+numbers. It is not the multitude of alehouses, to give the must 
+suspiciousexample, that occasionsa general disposition to drunk- 
+enness among the common people; but that disposition, arising 
+
+
+
+from other causes, necessarily gives employment to a multitudeof 
+alehouses. 
+
+T he persons whose capitals are employed in any of those four 
+ways, are themselves productive labourers. Their labour, when 
+properly directed, fixes and realizes itself in thesubjectorvendible 
+commodity upon which it is bestowed, and generally adds to its 
+price the value at least of their own maintenance and consump- 
+tion. T he profits of the farmer, of the manufacturer, of the mer- 
+chant, and retailer, are all drawn fromthepriceofthegoodswhich 
+the two first produce, and the two last buy and sell. Equal capi- 
+tals, however, employed in each of those four different ways, will 
+immediately put into motion very different quantitiesof produc- 
+tive labour; and augment, too, in very different proportions, the 
+value of the annual produce of the land and labour of the society 
+to which they belong. 
+
+The capital of the retailer rep I aces, together with its profits, that 
+of the merchant of whom he purchases goods, and thereby en- 
+ables him to continue his business. The retailer himself istheonly 
+productive labourer whom it immediately employs. In his profit 
+consists thewholevaluewhich itsemploymentaddstotheannual 
+produce of the land and labour of the society. 
+
+The capital of the wholesale merchant replaces, together with 
+their profits, the capital's of the farmers and manufacturers of whom 
+
+
+
+295 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+he purchases the rude and manufactured produce which he deals 
+in, and thereby enables them to continuetheir respective trades. It 
+is by this service chiefly that he contributes indirectly to support 
+the productive labour of the society and to increase the value of 
+its annual produce. H iscapital employs, too, thesailorsand carri- 
+ers who transport his goods from one place to another; and it 
+augments the price of those goods by the value, not only of his 
+profits, but of their wages. T his is all the productive labour which 
+it immediately putsinto motion, and all thevaluewhich it imme- 
+diately adds to the annual produce. Its operation in both these 
+respects is a good deal superior to that of thecapital of theretailer. 
+Part of the capital of the master manufacturer is employed as a 
+fixed capital in the instruments of histrade, and replaces, together 
+with its profits, that of some other artificer of whom he purchases 
+them. Part of his circulating capital is employed in purchasing 
+materials, and replaces, with their profits, the capitals of the farm- 
+ers and miners of whom he purchases them. But a great part of it 
+isalways, either annually, or in a much shorter period, distributed 
+among the different workmen whom he employs. It augments the 
+valueof those materials by their wages, and by their masters' prof- 
+its upon the whole stock of wages, materials, and instruments of 
+tradeemployed in the business. It puts immediately into motion, 
+therefore, a much greater quantity of productive labour, and adds 
+
+
+
+a much greater valuetotheannual produceoftheland and labour 
+of thesociety than an equal capital in thehandsof any wholesale 
+merchant. 
+
+Noequal capital putsinto motion agreater quantity of produc- 
+tive labour than that of the farmer. N ot only his labouring ser- 
+vants, but his labouring cattle, are productive labourers. In agri- 
+culture, too, N aturelaboursalong with man; and though her labour 
+costs no expense, its produce has its value, as well as that of the 
+most expensive workmen. T he most important operationsof agri- 
+culture seem intended, not so much to increase, though they do 
+that too, as to direct thefertility of Nature towardsthe production 
+of the plants most profitableto man. A field overgrown with bri- 
+ars and brambles, may frequently produce as great a quantity of 
+vegetables as the best cultivated vineyard or corn field. Planting 
+and til I age frequently regulate more than they animate the active 
+fertility of N ature; and after all their labour, a great part of the 
+work always remainstobedoneby her. Thelabourers and labouring 
+cattle, therefore, employed in agriculture, not only occasion, like 
+the workmen in manufactures, the reproduction of a value equal 
+to their own consumption, or to the capital which employs them, 
+together with its owner's profits, but of a much greater value. Over 
+and above the capital of the farmer, and all its profits, they regu- 
+larly occasion the reproduction of the rent of the landlord. This 
+
+
+
+296 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+rent may be considered as theproduceof those powers of N atu re, 
+the use of which the landlord lends to the farmer. It is greater or 
+smaller, according to the supposed extent of those powers, or, in 
+other words, according to the supposed natural or improved fer- 
+tility of the land. It is the work of N ature which remains, after 
+deducting or compensating every thing which can be regarded as 
+the work of man. It is seldom less than a fourth, and frequently 
+more than a third, of the whole produce. N o equal quantity of 
+productive labour employed in manufactures, can ever occasion 
+so great reproduction. In them Nature does nothing; man does 
+all; and thereproduction must always bein proportion tothestrength 
+of the agents that occasion it. The capital employed in agriculture, 
+therefore, not only puts into motion a greater quantity of produc- 
+tive labour than any equal capital employed in manufactures; but in 
+proportion, too, to the quantity of productive labour which it em- 
+ploys, it adds a much greater value to the annual produce of the 
+land and labour of thecountry, to the real wealth and revenueof its 
+inhabitants. Of all thewaysin which a capital can beemployed, it is 
+by far the most advantageous to society. 
+
+The capitals em ployed in the agriculture and in theretail tradeof 
+any society, must always reside within that society. Their employ- 
+ment is confined almost to a precise spot, to the farm, and to the 
+shopof theretailer. They must generally, too, though therearesome 
+
+
+
+exceptions to this, belong to resident members of the society. 
+
+T he capital of a wholesale merchant, on the contrary, seems to 
+have no fixed or necessary residence anywhere, but may wander 
+about from place to place, according as it can either buy cheap or 
+sell dear. 
+
+T he capital of the manufacturer must, no doubt, reside where 
+the manufacture is carried on; but where this shall be, is not al- 
+ways necessarily determined. It may frequently beat a great dis- 
+tance, both from the place where the materials grow, and from 
+that where the complete manufacture is consumed. Lyons is very 
+distant, both from theplaces which afford the materials of itsmanu- 
+factures, and from those which consume them. Thepeopleof fash- 
+ion in Sicily are clothed in silks madein other countries, from the 
+materials which their own produces. Part of the wool of Spain is 
+manufactured in Great Britain, and some part of that cloth is af- 
+terwards sent back to Spain. 
+
+W hether the merchant whose capital exports the surplus pro- 
+duce of any society, be a native or a foreigner, is of very little im- 
+portance. If he is a foreigner, the number of their productive 
+labourers is necessarily less than if he had been a native, by one 
+man only; and thevalueof their annual produce, by the profits of 
+that one man. The sailors or carriers whom he employs, may still 
+belong indifferently either to his country, or to their country, or to 
+
+
+
+297 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+somethird country, in the same manner as if hehad been a native. 
+The capital of a foreigner gives a value to their surplus produce 
+equally with that of a native, by exchanging it for something for 
+which there is a demand at home. It as effectually replaces the 
+capital oftheperson who produces that surplus, and as effectually 
+enables him to continue his business, the service by which the 
+capital of a wholesale merchant chiefly contributes to support the 
+productive labour, and to augment the value of the annual pro- 
+duce of the society to which he belongs. 
+
+It is of more consequence that the capital of the manufacturer 
+should reside within the country. It necessarily puts into motion a 
+greater quantity of productive labour, and addsa greater value to 
+the annual produce of the land and labour of the society. It may, 
+however, be very useful to the country, though it should not reside 
+within it. Thecapitalsof the British manufacturers who workup 
+the flax and hemp annually imported from the coasts of the Bal- 
+tic, are surely very useful to the countries which produce them. 
+T hose materials are a part of the surplus produce of those coun- 
+tries, which, unlessitwas annually exchanged for something which 
+is in demand here, would beof no value, and would soon cease to 
+be produced. The merchants who export it, rep I ace the capitals of 
+the people who produce it, and thereby encourage them to con- 
+tinue the production; and the British manufacturers replace the 
+
+
+
+capitals of those merchants. 
+
+A particular country, in thesamemannerasa particular person, 
+may frequently not have capital sufficient both to improve and 
+cultivate all itslands, to manufacture and prepare their whole rude 
+produce for immediate use and consumption, and to transport 
+the surplus part either of the rude or manufactured produce to 
+those distant markets, where it can be exchanged for something 
+for which there is a demand at home. The inhabitants of many 
+different parts of G reat Britain have not capital sufficient to im- 
+prove and cultivate all their lands. The wool of thesouthern coun- 
+ties of Scotland is, a great part of it, after a long land carriage 
+through very bad roads, manufactured in Yorkshire, for want of a 
+capital to manufactureit at homeThere are many little manufac- 
+turing towns in Great Britain, of which the inhabitants have not 
+capital sufficient to transport the produce of their own industry 
+to thosedistant markets where thereisdemand and consumption 
+for it. I f there are any merchants among them, they are, properly, 
+only the agents of wealthier merchants who reside in some of the 
+great commercial cities. 
+
+W hen the capital of any country is not sufficient for all those 
+three purposes, in proportion as a greater share of it is employed 
+in agriculture, thegreater will be thequantity of productivelabour 
+which it puts into motion within the country; as will likewise be 
+
+
+
+298 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+thevaluewhich itsemploymentaddstotheannual produce of the 
+land and labour of the society. After agriculture, the capital em- 
+ployed in manufactures puts into motion the greatest quantity of 
+productive labour, and adds the greatest value to the annual pro- 
+duce. That which isemployed in the trade of exportation has the 
+least effect of any of the three. 
+
+Thecountry, indeed, which hasnot capital sufficient for all those 
+threepurposes, hasnot arrived at that degreeof opulence for which 
+it seems naturally destined. Toattempt, however, prematurely, and 
+with an insufficient capital, to do all the three, is certainly not the 
+shortest way for a society, no more than it would be for an indi- 
+vidual, to acquirea sufficient one. Thecapital of all theindividu- 
+alsof anation hasitslimits, in thesame manner as that of a single 
+individual, and iscapableof executing only certain purposes. The 
+capital of all the individuals of a nation is increased in the same 
+manner as that of a single individual, by their continually accu- 
+mulating and adding to it whatever they saveout of their revenue. 
+It is likely to in crease the fastest, therefore, when it isemployed in 
+the way that affords the greatest revenue to all the inhabitants or 
+thecountry, as they will thus be enabled to makethe greatest sav- 
+ings. But therevenueof all theinhabitants of thecountry isneces- 
+sarily in proportion to the value of the annual produce of their 
+land and labour. 
+
+
+
+Ithasbeen theprincipal cause of therapid progressof our Ameri- 
+can colonies towards wealth and greatness, that almost their whole 
+capitalshavehitherto been employed in agriculture. They have no 
+manufactures, those household and coarser manufactures excepted, 
+which necessarily accompanytheprogressof agriculture, and which 
+are the work of the women and children in every private family. 
+The greater part, both of the exportation and coasting trade of 
+America, is carried on by the capitals of merchants who reside in 
+Great Britain. Even the stores and warehouses from which goods 
+are retailed in some provinces, particularly in Virginia and Mary- 
+land, belong many of them to merchants who reside in the mother 
+country, and afford oneof thefew in stances of the retail tradeof a 
+society being carried on by the capitals of those who are not resi- 
+dent members of it. Were theAmericans, either by combination, 
+or by any other sort of violence, to stop the importation of Euro- 
+pean manufactures, and, by thus giving a monopoly to such of 
+their own countrymen as could manufacture the like goods, di- 
+vert any considerable part of their capital into this employment, 
+they would retard, instead of accelerating, the further increase in 
+thevalueof their annual produce, and would obstruct, instead of 
+promoting, the progress of their country towards real wealth and 
+greatness. This would be still morethecase, were they to attempt, 
+in the same manner, to monopolize to them selves their wholeex- 
+
+
+
+299 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+portation trade. 
+
+The course of human prosperity, indeed, seems scarce ever to 
+have been of so long continuance as to unable any great country 
+to acquire capital sufficient for all those three purposes; unless, 
+perhaps, we give credit to the wonderful accounts of the wealth 
+and cultivation of China, of those of ancient Egypt, and of the 
+ancient state of In dostan. Even those threecountries, the wealthi- 
+est, according to all accounts, that ever were in the world, are 
+chiefly renowned for their superiority in agriculture and manu- 
+factures. They do not appear to have been eminent for foreign 
+trade. The ancient Egyptians had a superstitious antipathy to the 
+sea; a superstition nearly of the same kind prevails among the In- 
+dians; and the Chinese have never excelled in foreign commerce. 
+Thegreater part of thesurplus produce of all those three countries 
+seems to have been always exported by foreigners, who gave in 
+exchange for it something else, for which they found a demand 
+there, frequently gold and silver. 
+
+It isthusthatthesame capital will in any country put into mo- 
+tion a greater or smaller quantity of productive labour, and add a 
+greater or smaller valueto theannual produceofitsland and labour, 
+according to the different proportions in which it is employed in 
+agriculture, manufactures, and wholesale trade. The difference, 
+too, is very great, according to the different sorts of wholesale 
+
+
+
+trade in which any part of it is employed. 
+
+All wholesale trade, all buying in order to sell again by whole- 
+sale, maybe reduced to three different sorts: the home trade, the 
+foreign trade of consumption, and the carrying trade. The home 
+trade is employed in purchasing in one part of the same country, 
+and selling in another, the produce of the industry of that coun- 
+try. It comprehends both the inland and the coasting trade. The 
+foreign trade of consumption isemployed in purchasing foreign 
+goods for home consumption. T he carrying trade is employed in 
+transacting the commerce of foreign countries, or in carrying the 
+surplus produce of one to another. 
+
+The capital which isemployed in purchasing in onepartofthe 
+country, in order to sell in another, the produce of the industry of 
+that country, generally replaces, by every such operation, two dis- 
+tinct capitals, that had both been employed in the agriculture or 
+manufactures of that country, and thereby enables them to con- 
+tinue that employment. W hen it sends out from the residence of 
+the merchant a certain value of commodities, it generally brings 
+hack in return at least an equal valueof other commodities. W hen 
+both are the produce of domestic industry, it necessarily replaces, 
+by every such operation, two distinct capitals, which had both 
+been employed in Supporting productive labour, and thereby en- 
+ables them to continue that support. The capital which sends 
+
+
+
+300 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+Scotch manufactures to London, and brings back English corn 
+and manufactures to Edinburgh, necessarily replaces, by every such 
+operation, two British capitals, which had both been employed in 
+the agriculture or manufactures of Great Britain. 
+
+The capital employed in purchasing foreign goods for home 
+consumption, when this purchase is made with the produce of 
+domestic industry, replaces, too, by every such operation, two dis- 
+tinct capitals; but one of them only is employed in supporting 
+domestic industry. The capital which sends British goods to Por- 
+tugal, and brings back Portuguese goods to Great Britain, replaces, 
+by every such operation, only one British capital. The other is a 
+Portugueseone. Though thereturns, therefore, of theforeign trade 
+of consumption, should be as quick as those of the home trade, 
+thecapital employed in it will give but one half of the encourage- 
+ment to the industry or productive labour of the country. 
+
+But the returns of the foreign trade of consumption are very 
+seldom so quick as those of the home trade. T he returns of the 
+hometradegenerallycomein before theend of theyear, and some 
+times three or four times in the year. T he returns of the foreign 
+trade of consumption seldom come in before the end of theyear, 
+and sometimes not till after two or three years. A capital, there- 
+fore, employed in the home trade, will sometimes make twelve 
+operations, or be sent out and returned twelve times, before a 
+
+
+
+capital employed in theforeign trade of consumption has made 
+one. If the capitals are equal, therefore, theonewill givefour-and- 
+twenty times more encouragement and support to the industry of 
+the country than the other. 
+
+T he foreign goods for home consumption may sometimes be 
+purchased, not with the produce of domestic industry but with 
+some other foreign goods. These last, however, must have been 
+purchased, either immediately with the produce of domestic in- 
+dustry, or with something else that had been purchased with it; 
+for, thecaseof war and conquest excepted, foreign goodscan never 
+be acquired, but in exchange for something that had been pro- 
+duced at home, either immediately, or after two or more different 
+exchanges. T he effects, therefore, of a capital employed in such a 
+round-about foreign trade of consumption, are, in every respect, 
+the same as those of one employed in the most direct trade of the 
+same kind, except that the final returns are likely to be still more 
+distant, as they must depend upon the returns of two or three 
+distinct foreign trades. Ifthehemp and flax of Riga are purchased 
+with thetobacco of Virginia, which had been purchased with Brit- 
+ish manufactures, the merchant must wait for the returns of two 
+distinct foreign trades, before he can employ the same capital in 
+repurchasing a like quantity of British manufactures. If the to- 
+bacco of Virginia had been purchased, not with British manufac- 
+
+
+
+301 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+tures, but with the sugar and rum of Jamaica, which had been 
+purchased with those manufactures, he must wait for the returns 
+of three. If those two or three distinct foreign trades should hap- 
+pen to be carried on by two or three distinct merchants, of whom 
+the second buys the goods imported by the first, and the third 
+buysthoseimported bythesecond, in order to export them again, 
+each merchant, indeed, will, in thiscase, receive the returns of his 
+own capital morequickly; butthefinal returns of the whole capi- 
+tal employed in thetradewill bejust as slow as ever. Whether the 
+whole capital employed in such a round about trade belong to 
+one merchant or to three, can make no difference with regard to 
+thecountry, though it may with regard to the particular merchants. 
+Three times a greater capital must in both cases be employed, in 
+order to exchange a certain value of British manufactures for a 
+certain quantity of flax and hemp, than would have been neces- 
+sary, had the manufactures and the flax and hemp been directly 
+exchanged for one another. The whole capital employed, there 
+fore, in such a round-about foreign trade of consumption, will 
+generally give less encouragement and support to the productive 
+labour of the country, than an equal capital employed in a more 
+direct trade of the same kind. 
+
+Whatever be the foreign commodity with which the foreign 
+goods for home consumption are purchased, it can occasion no 
+
+
+
+essential difference, either in the nature of the trade, or in the 
+encouragement and support which it can give to the productive 
+labour of the country from which it is carried on. If they are pur- 
+chased with the gold of Brazil, for example, or with the silver of 
+Peru, thisgold and silver, like the tobacco of Virginia, must have 
+been purchased with something that either wastheproduce of the 
+industry of the country, or that had been purchased with some- 
+thing else that was so. So far, therefore, astheproductivelabour of 
+thecountry isconcerned, theforeign tradeof consumption, which 
+is carried on by means of gold and silver, has all the advantages 
+and all the inconveniences of any other equally round-about for- 
+eign tradeof consumption; and will replace, just as fast, or just as 
+slow, the capital which is immediately employed in supporting 
+that productive labour. It seems even to have one advantage over 
+any other equally round-about foreign trade. The transportation 
+of those metals from one place to another, on account of their 
+small bulk and great value, is less expensive than that of almost 
+any other foreign goods of equal value. T heir freight is much less, 
+and their insurance not greater; and no goods, besides, are less 
+liableto suffer by thecarriage. An equal quantity of foreign goods, 
+therefore, may frequently be purchased with a smaller quantity of 
+theproduceof domestic industry, by the intervention of gold and 
+si Iver, than by that of any other foreign goods. T he demand of the 
+
+
+
+302 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+country may frequently, in this manner, be supplied more com- 
+pletely, and at a smaller expense, than in any other. W hether, by the 
+continual exportation of those metals, a trade of this kind is likely 
+to impoverish the country from which it is carried on in any other 
+way, I shall have occasion to examine at great length hereafter. 
+
+That part of the capital of any country which isemployed in the 
+carrying trade, is altogether withdrawn from supporting the pro- 
+ductive labour of that particular country, to support that of some 
+foreign countries. Though it may replace, by every operation, two 
+distinct capitals, yet neither of them belongs to that particular 
+country. The capital of the Dutch merchant, which carries the 
+corn of Poland to Portugal, and brings back the fruits and wines 
+of Portugal to Poland, replaces by every such operation two capi- 
+tals, neither of which had been employed in supporting the pro- 
+ductive labour of Holland; but oneof them in supporting that of 
+Poland, and the other that of Portugal. The profits only return 
+regularly to Holland, and constitute the whole addition which 
+this trade necessarily makes to the annual produce of the land and 
+labour of that country. W hen, indeed, the carrying trade of any 
+particular country is carried on with the ships and sailors of that 
+country, that part of the capital employed in it which pays the 
+freight isdistributed among, and putsinto motion, a certain num- 
+ber of productive labourers of that country. Almost all nations 
+
+
+
+thathavehad anyconsiderableshareof the carrying trade have, in 
+fact, carried it on in this manner. The trade itself has probably 
+derived its name from it, the people of such countries being the 
+carriers to other countries. It does not, however, seem essential to 
+the nature of the trade that it should be so. A D utch merchant 
+may, for example, employ hiscapital in transacting thecommerce 
+of Poland and Portugal, by carrying part of thesurplusproduceof 
+the one to the other, not in Dutch, but in British bottoms. It 
+maybe presumed, that he actually does so upon some particular 
+occasions. Itisuponthisaccount, however, that the carrying trade 
+has been supposed peculiarly advantageous to such a country as 
+Great Britain, of which thedefenceand security depend upon the 
+number of its sailors and shipping. But the same capital may em- 
+ploy as many sailors and shipping, either in the foreign trade of 
+consumption, or even in thehometrade, when carried on bycoast- 
+ingvessels, asit could in thecarryingtrade.Thenumber of sailors 
+and shipping which any particular capital can employ, does not 
+depend upon the nature of thetrade, but partly upon the bulk of 
+the goods, in proportion to their value, and partly upon the dis- 
+tance of the ports between which they are to be carried; chiefly 
+upon the former of those two circumstances. The coal trade from 
+Newcastleto London, for example, employs more shipping than 
+all the carrying trade of England, though the ports are at no great 
+
+
+
+303 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+distance. To force, therefore, by extraordinary encouragements, a 
+larger share of the capital of any country into the carrying trade, 
+than what would naturally go to it, will not always necessarily 
+increase theshipping of that country. 
+
+Thecapital, therefore, employed in thehometradeof any coun- 
+try, will generally give encouragement and support to a greater 
+quantity of productive labour in that country, and increase the 
+value of its annual produce, more than an equal capital employed 
+in theforeign trade of consumption; and thecapital employed in 
+this latter trade has, in both these respects, a still greater advantage 
+over an equal capital employed in the carrying trade. The riches, 
+and so far as power dependsupon riches, thepower of every country 
+must always be in proportion to the value of its annual produce, 
+the fund from which all taxes must ultimately be paid. But the 
+great object of the political economy of every country, is to in- 
+crease the riches and power of that country. Itought, therefore, to 
+giveno preferencenor superior encouragement to theforeign trade 
+of consumption above the home trade, nor to the carrying trade 
+above either of the other two. It ought neither to force nor to 
+allureinto either of those two channels a greater share of thecapi- 
+tal of thecountry, than what would naturally flow into them of its 
+own accord. 
+
+Each of those different branches of trade, however, is not only 
+
+
+
+advantageous, but necessary and unavoidable, when thecourseof 
+things, without any constraint or violence, naturally introducesit. 
+
+W hen the produce of any particular branch of industry exceeds 
+what the demand of the country requires, the surplus must be 
+sent abroad, and exchanged for something for which there is a 
+demand at home. Without such exportation, a part of the pro- 
+ductive labour of the country must cease, and the value of its an- 
+nual producediminish.Theland and labour of Great Britain pro- 
+duce generally more corn, woollens, and hardware, than the de- 
+mand of the home market requires. The surplus part of them, 
+therefore, must be sent abroad, and exchanged for something for 
+which there is a demand at home. It is only by means of such 
+exportation, that thissurpluscan acquired valuesufficientto com- 
+pensate the labour and expense of producing it. The 
+neighbourhood of the sea-coast, and the banks of all navigable 
+rivers, are advantageous situations for industry, only because they 
+facilitate the exportation and exchange of such surplus produce 
+for something dse which is more in demand there. 
+
+W hen theforeign goods which are thus purchased with thesur- 
+plusproduceofdomesticindustryexceedthedemandofthehome 
+market, the surplus part of them must be sent abroad again, and 
+exchanged for something more in demand at home. About 96,000 
+hogsheadsof tobacco are annually purchased in Virginia and M ary- 
+
+
+
+304 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+land with a part of the surplus produce of British industry. But 
+thedemand of Great Britain does not require, perhaps, more than 
+14,000. If the remaining 82,000, therefore, could not be sent 
+abroad, and exchanged for something more in demand at home, 
+the importation of them must cease immediately, and with it the 
+productive labour of all those inhabitants of Great Britain who 
+are at present employed in preparing the goods with which these 
+82,000 hogsheads are annually purchased. Those goods, which 
+are part of the produce of the land and labour of G reat Britain, 
+having no market at home, and being deprived of that which they 
+had abroad, must cease to be produced. The most round-about 
+foreign trade of consumption, therefore, may, upon some occa- 
+sions, be as necessary for supporting the productive labour of the 
+country, and the value of its annual produce, as the most direct. 
+When the capital stock of any country is increased to such a 
+degree that it cannot be all employed in supplying the consump- 
+tion, and supportingtheproductivelabourof that particular coun- 
+try, the surplus part of it naturally disgorgesitself into thecarrying 
+trade, and is employed in performing the same offices to other 
+countries. Thecarryingtradeisthenatural effect and symptom of 
+great national wealth; but it does not seem to be the natural cause 
+of it. Those statesmen who have been disposed to favour it with 
+particular encouragement, seem to have mistaken the effect and 
+
+
+
+symptom for the cause. H olland, in proportion to the extent of 
+theland and thenumber of it's inhabitants, by far theri chest coun- 
+try in Europe, has accordingly the greatest share of the carrying 
+trade of Europe. England, perhaps the second richest country of 
+Europe, is likewise supposed to have a considerable share in it; 
+though what commonly passes for the carrying tradeof England 
+will frequently, perhaps, be found to be no more than a round- 
+about foreign tradeof consumption. Such are, in a great measure, 
+the trades which carry the goods of the East and West I ndies and 
+of America to the different European markets. Those goods are 
+generally purchased, either immediately with theproduceof Brit- 
+ish industry, or with something else which had been purchased 
+with that produce, and thefinal retu rns of those trades are gener- 
+ally used or consumed in Great Britain. Thetrade which iscarried 
+on in British bottoms between the different ports of the Mediter- 
+ranean, and some trade of the same kind carried on by British 
+merchants between the different ports of India, make, perhaps, 
+the principal branches of what is properly the carrying trade of 
+Great Britain. 
+
+T he extent of the home trade, and of the capital which can be 
+employed in it, is necessarily limited by the value of the surplus 
+produce of all those distant places within the country which have 
+occasion to exchange their respective productions with one an- 
+
+
+
+305 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+other; that of the foreign trade of consumption, by the value of the 
+surplus produce of the whole country, and of what can be pur- 
+chased with it; that of the carrying trade, bythevalueof thesurplus 
+produce of all the different countries in the world. Its possible ex- 
+tent, therefore, is in a manner infinite in comparison of that of the 
+other two, and is capable of absorbing the greatest capitals 
+
+The consideration of his own private profit is the sole motive 
+which determines the owner of any capital to employ it either in 
+agriculture, in manufactures, or in some particular branch of the 
+wholesale or retail trade. The different quantities of productive 
+labour which it may put into motion, and the different values 
+which itmayaddtotheannual produce of the land and labour of 
+the society, according as it is employed in one or other of those 
+different ways, never enter into his thoughts. In countries, there 
+fore, where agriculture is the most profitable of all employments, 
+and farming and improving the most direct roads to a splendid 
+fortune, the capitals of individuals will naturally be employed in 
+the manner most advantageous to the whole society. T he profits 
+of agriculture, however, seem to have no superiority over those of 
+other employments in any part of Europe. Projectors, indeed, in 
+every corner of it, have, within thesefew years, amused the public 
+with most magnificent accounts of the profits to be made by the 
+cultivation and improvement of land. W ithout entering into any 
+
+
+
+particular discussion of their calculations, a very simple observa- 
+tion may satisfy us that the result of them must be false. We see, 
+every day, the most splendid fortunes, that have been acquired in 
+the course of a single life, by trade and manufactures, frequently 
+from a very small capital, sometimes from no capital. A single 
+instance of such a fortune, acquired by agriculture in the same 
+time, and from such a capital, has not, perhaps, occurred in Eu- 
+rope, during the course of the present century. In all the great 
+countries of Europe, however, much good land still remains un- 
+cultivated; and the greater part of what is cultivated, is far from 
+being improved to the degree of which it is capable. Agriculture, 
+therefore, isalmost everywhere capableof absorbing a much greater 
+capital than has ever yet been employed in it. What circumstances 
+in the policy of Europe have given thetrades which are carried on 
+in townsso great an advantage over that which iscarried on in the 
+country, that private persons frequently find it more for their ad- 
+vantage to employ their capitals in the most distant carrying trades 
+of Asia and America than in the improvement and cultivation of 
+themostfertilefieldsintheirown neighbourhood, I shall endeav- 
+our to explain at full length in the two following books. 
+
+
+
+306 
+
+
+
+Adam 
+
+
+
+BOOK III 
+
+
+
+OFTHE DIFFERENT PROGRESSOF 
+OPULENCE IN DIFFERENT NATIONS 
+
+CHAPTER I 
+
+OFTHE NATURAL PROGRESSOF OPU- 
+LENCE 
+
+The great commerce of every civilized society is that car 
+ried on between the inhabitants of the town and those 
+of the country. It consists in the exchange of rude for 
+manufactured produce, either immediately or by the interven- 
+tion of money or of some sort of paper which represents money. 
+Thecountry supplies thetown with the means of subsistence and 
+the materials of manufacture. The town repays this supply by 
+sending back a part of the manufactured produce to the inhabit- 
+ants of the country. The town, in which thereneither isnor can be 
+any reproduction of substances, may very properly be said to gain 
+its whole wealth and subsistence from the country. We must not, 
+however, upon this account, imagine that the gain of thetown is 
+thelossof the country. The gains of both aremutual and recipro- 
+
+
+
+Smith 
+
+cal, and the division of labour is in this, as in all other cases, ad- 
+vantageous to all the different persons employed in the various 
+occupations into which it is subdivided. T he inhabitants of the 
+country purchaseof thetown a greater quantity of manufactured 
+goods with the produce of a much smaller quantity of their own 
+labour, than they must have employed had they attempted to pre- 
+pare them themselves. T he town affords a market for the surplus 
+produce of the country, or what is over and above the mainte- 
+nance of the cultivators; and it istherethat theinhabitantsof the 
+country exchangeitforsomethingelsewhichisin demand among 
+them. T he greater the number and revenue of the inhabitants of 
+the town, the more extensive is the market which it affords to 
+those of the country; and the more extensive that market, it is 
+always themore ad vantageousto a great number. Thecorn which 
+grows within amileof thetown, sellsthere for thesameprice with 
+that which comes from twenty miles distance. Butthepriceofthe 
+latter must, generally, not only pay the expense of raising it and 
+bringing it to market, but afford, too, the ordinary profits of agri- 
+culture to thefarmer. The proprietors and cultivators of thecoun- 
+try, therefore, which lies in the neighbourhood of thetown, over 
+and above the ordinary profits of agriculture, gain, in thepriceof 
+what they sell, the whole value of the carriage of the like produce 
+that is brought from more distant parts; and they save, besides, 
+
+
+
+307 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+the whole value of this carriage in the price of what they buy. 
+Compare the cultivation of the lands in the neighbourhood of 
+any considerable town, with that of those which lie at some dis- 
+tance from it, and you will easily satisfy yourself bow much the 
+country is benefited by the commerce of the town. Among all the 
+absurd speculations that have been propagated concerning the 
+balance of trade, it has never been pretended that either the coun- 
+try losesbyits commerce with thetown, or thetown bythatwith 
+the country which maintains it. 
+
+As subsistence is, in the nature of things, prior to conveniency 
+and luxury, so the industry which procures the former, must nec- 
+essarily be prior to that which ministers to the latter. T he cultiva- 
+tion and improvement of the country, therefore, which affords 
+subsistence, must, necessarily, beprior to theincrease of thetown, 
+which furnishes only the means of conveniency and luxury. It is 
+thesurplusproduceofthecountryonly, or whatisover and above 
+themaintenanceofthecultivators, that constitutes the subsistence 
+of thetown, which can therefore in crease only with theincreaseof 
+the surplus produceThe town, indeed, may not always derive its 
+wholesubsistencefromthecountryin itsneighbourhood,oreven 
+from theterritory to which it belongs, but from very distant coun- 
+tries; and this, though it forms no exception from thegeneral rule, 
+has occasioned considerablevariationsin the progress of opulence 
+
+
+
+in different ages and nations. 
+
+That order of things which necessity imposes, in general, though 
+not in every particular country, is in every particular country pro- 
+moted by the natural inclinations of man. If human institutions 
+had never thwarted those natural inclinations, the towns could 
+nowhere have increased beyond what the improvement and culti- 
+vation of theterritory in which they were situated could support; 
+till such time, at least, as the whole of that territory was com- 
+pletely cultivated and improved. Upon equal, or nearly equal prof- 
+its, most men will choose to employ their capitals, rather in the 
+improvement and cultivation of land, than either in manufactures 
+or in foreign trade. The man who employs his capital in land, has 
+it more under his view and command; and his fortune is much 
+less liable to accidents than that of the trader, who is obliged fre- 
+quently to commit it, notonlytothewindsandthewaves, but to 
+themoreuncertainelementsof human folly and injustice, by giv- 
+ing great credits, in distant countries, to men with whose charac- 
+ter and situation he can seldom be thoroughly acquainted. The 
+capital of the landlord, on thecontrary, which isfixed in the im- 
+provement of his land, seemsto be as well secured as thenature of 
+human affairs can admit of. The beauty of the country, besides, 
+the pleasure of a country life, the tranquillity of mind which it 
+promises, and, wherever theinjusticeof human laws does not dis- 
+
+
+
+308 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+turb it, the independency which it really affords, have charms that, 
+more or less, attract everybody; and as to cultivate theground was 
+theoriginal destination of man, so, in every stage of his existence, 
+he seems to retain a predilection for this primitive employment. 
+W ithout the assistance of some artificers, indeed, the cultiva- 
+tion of land cannot be carried on, but with great inconveniency 
+and continual interruption. Smiths, carpenters, wheelwrights and 
+ploughwrights, masons and bricklayers, tanners, shoemakers, and 
+tailors, are people whose service the farmer has frequent occasion 
+for. Such artificers, too, stand occasionally in need of the assis- 
+tance of one another; and as their residence is not, likethatof the 
+farmer, necessarily tied down to aprecise spot, they naturally settle 
+in the neighbourhood of oneanother, and thus form a small town 
+or village. The butcher, thebrewer, and thebaker, soon join them, 
+together with many other artificers and retailers, necessary or use- 
+ful for supplying their occasional wants, and who contribute still 
+further to augment the town. T he inhabitants of the town, and 
+those of the country, are mutually the servants of one another. 
+The town is a continual fair or market, to which the inhabitants 
+of the country resort, in order to exchange their rude for manu- 
+factured produce. It isthis commerce which supplies the inhabit- 
+ants of the town, both with the materials of their work, and the 
+meansof their subsistence. The quantity of thefinished work which 
+
+
+
+theysell totheinhabitantsof thecountry, necessarily regulatesthe 
+
+quantity of the materials and provisions which they buy. Neither 
+their employment nor subsistence, therefore, can augment, but in 
+proportion to the augmentation of the demand from thecountry 
+for finished work; and thisdemand can augment only in propor- 
+tion to the extension of improvement and cultivation. H ad hu- 
+man institutions, therefore, never disturbed the natural course of 
+things, the progressive wealth and increaseof thetownswould, in 
+every political society, be consequential, and in proportion to the 
+improvement and cultivation of theterritory of country. 
+
+I n our N orth American colonies, where uncultivated land isstill 
+to be had upon easy terms, no manufactures for distant sale have 
+ever yet been established in any of their towns. W hen an artificer 
+has acquired a little more stock than is necessary for carrying on 
+his own business in supplying the neighbouring country, he does 
+not, in N orth America, attempt to establish with it a manufacture 
+for moredistant sale, but employsit in thepurchase and improve- 
+ment of uncultivated land. From artificer he becomes planter; and 
+neither the large wages nor the easy subsistence which that coun- 
+try affords to artificers, can bribe him rather to work for other 
+peoplethan for himself. Hefeelsthatan artificer is the servant of 
+his customers, from whom he derives his subsistence; but that a 
+planter who cultivates his own land, and deriveshisnecessarysub- 
+
+
+
+309 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+sistencefrom the labour of his own family, is really a master, and 
+independent of all the world. 
+
+In countries, on the contrary, where there is either no unculti- 
+vated land, or none that can be had upon easy terms, every artifi- 
+cer who has acquired more stock than hecan employ in th e occa- 
+sional jobs of the neighbourhood, endeavours to preparework for 
+more distant sale. The smith erects some sort of iron, the weaver 
+somesort of linen or woollen manufactory. T hosedifferent manu- 
+factures come, in process of time, to be gradually subdivided, and 
+thereby improved and refined in a great variety of ways, which 
+may easily be conceived, and which it istherefore unnecessary to 
+explain any farther. 
+
+In seeking for employment to a capital, manufactures are, upon 
+equal or nearly equal profits, naturally preferred to foreign com- 
+merce, for the same reason that agriculture is naturally preferred 
+to manufactures. As the capital of the landlord or farmer is more 
+secure than that of the manufacturer, so the capital of the manu- 
+facturer, being at all times more within hisviewand command, is 
+more secure than that of the foreign merchant. In every period, 
+indeed, of every society, the surplus part both of the rude and 
+manufactured produce, or that for which there is no demand at 
+home, must be sent abroad, in order to be exchanged for some- 
+thing for which there is some demand at home. But whether the 
+
+
+
+capital which carries this surplus produce abroad beaforeign ora 
+domestic one, is of very little importance. If the society has not 
+acquired sufficient capital, both to cultivate all its lands, and to 
+manufacture in the completest manner the whole of its rude pro- 
+duce, thereiseven a considerableadvantagethat the rude produce 
+should be exported by a foreign capital, in order that the whole 
+stock of the society may be employed in more useful purposes. 
+The: wealth of ancient Egypt, that of China and Indostan, suffi- 
+ciently demonstrate that a nation may attain a very high degreeof 
+opulence, though the greater part of its exportation trade be car- 
+ried on by foreigners. The progress of our North American and 
+West Indian colonies, would have been much less rapid, had no 
+capital but what belonged to themselves been employed in ex- 
+porting their surplus produce. 
+
+According to the natural course of things, therefore, thegreater 
+part of the capital of every growing society is, first, directed to 
+agriculture, afterwardsto manufactures, and, last of all, to foreign 
+commerce. This order of things is so very natural, that in every 
+society that had any territory, it has always, I believe, been in some 
+degree observed. Some of their lands must have been cultivated 
+before any considerabletownscould be established, and somesort 
+of coarse industry of themanufacturingkind must have been car- 
+ried on in those towns, before they could well think of employing 
+
+
+
+310 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+themselves in foreign commerce. 
+
+But though this natural order of things must have taken place 
+in some degree in every such society, it has, in all the modern 
+states of Europe, been in manyrespectsentirelyinverted.Thefor- 
+eign commerce of someof their citieshasintroduced all their finer 
+manufactures, or such as were fit for distant sale; and manufac- 
+tures and foreign commerce together have given birth to theprin- 
+cipal improvements of agriculture. The manners and customs 
+which the nature of their original government introduced, and 
+which remained after that government was greatly altered, neces- 
+sarily forced them into this unnatural and retrograde order. 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II 
+
+OFTHE DISCOURAGEMENT OF AGRI- 
+CULTURE IN THE ANCIENT STATE OF 
+EUROPE f AFTERTHE FALLOFTHE RO- 
+MAN EMPIRE 
+
+When the Germ an and Scythian nations overran the western prov- 
+incesoftheRoman empire, theconfusionswhich followed so great 
+a revolution lasted for several centuries. The rapine and violence 
+which the barbarians exercised against the ancient inhabitants, 
+interrupted the commerce between the towns and the country. 
+T he towns were deserted, and the country was left uncultivated; 
+and the western provinces of Europe, which had enjoyed a con- 
+siderable degree of opulence under the Roman empire, sunk into 
+the lowest state of poverty and barbarism. During the continu- 
+ance of those confusions, thechiefsand principal leaders of those 
+nations acquired, or usurped to themselves, the greater part of the 
+lands of those countries. A great part of them was uncultivated; 
+but no part of them, whether cultivated or uncultivated, was left 
+without a proprietor. All of them were engrossed, and the greater 
+part by a few great proprietors. 
+This original engrossing of uncultivated lands, though a great, 
+
+
+
+311 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+might have been but a transitory evil. They mightsoon have been 
+divided again, and broke into small parcels, either by succession 
+or by alienation. The law of primogeniture hindered them from 
+being divided by succession; theintroduction of entails prevented 
+their being broke into small parcels by alienation. 
+
+When land, like moveables, is considered as the means only of 
+subsistence and enjoyment, the natural law of succession divides 
+it, likethem, among all thechildren of thefamily; of all of whom 
+the subsistence and enjoyment may be supposed equally dear to 
+the father. This natural law of succession, accordingly, took place 
+amongtheRomanswhomadenomoredistinction between elder 
+and younger, between maleand female, in the inheritance of lands, 
+than we do in the distribution of moveables. But when land was 
+considered as the means, not of subsistence merely, but of power 
+and protection, it was thought better that it should descend undi- 
+vided to one. In thosedisorderly times, every great landlord was a 
+sort of petty prince. H is tenants were his subjects. H e was their 
+judge, and in some respects their legislator in peace and their leader 
+in war. He made war according to his own discretion, frequently 
+against his neighbours, and sometimes against his sovereign. The 
+security of a landed estate, therefore, the protection which itsowner 
+could afford to those who dwelt on it, depended upon its great- 
+ness. To divideit was to ruin it, and to expose every part of it to be 
+
+
+
+oppressed and swallowed up by the incursions of its neighbours. 
+T he law of primogeniture, therefore, came to take place, not im- 
+mediately indeed, but in process of time, in thesuccession of landed 
+estates, for thesame reason that it has generally taken place in that 
+of monarchies, though not always at their first institution. That 
+the power, and consequently the security of the monarchy, may 
+not be weakened by division, it must descend entiretooneof the 
+children. To which of them so important a preference shall be 
+given, must be determined by some general rule, founded not 
+upon the doubtful distinctions of personal merit, but upon some 
+plain and evident differencewhich can admit of no dispute. Among 
+thechildren of the same family there can beno indisputable dif- 
+ference but that of sex, and that of age. T hemalesex isuniversally 
+preferred to the female; and when all other things are equal, the 
+elder everywhere takes place of the younger. Hence the origin of 
+theright of primogeniture, and of what is called lineal succession. 
+Laws frequently continue in force long after the circumstances 
+which first gave occasion to them, and which could alone render 
+them reasonable, are no more. I n the present state of Europe, the 
+proprietor of a single acre of land is as perfectly secure in his pos- 
+session as the proprietor of 100,000. T he right of primogeniture, 
+however, still continues to be respected; and asof all institutionsit 
+is the fittest to support the pride of family distinctions, it is still 
+
+
+
+312 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+likely to endure for many centuries. In every other respect, noth- 
+ingcan be more contrary to the real interest of a numerousfamily, 
+than a right which, in order to enrich one, beggars all the rest of 
+the children. 
+
+Entails are the natural consequences of the law of primogeni- 
+ture. They were introduced to preservea certain lineal succession, 
+of which thelaw of primogeniture first gave theidea, and to hinder 
+any part of the original estate from being carried out of the pro- 
+posed line, either by gift, or device, or alienation; either by the 
+folly, or by the misfortune of any of its successive owners. They 
+were altogether unknown to the Romans. N either their substitu- 
+tions, nor fidei commisses, bear any resemblance to entails, though 
+some French lawyers have thought proper to dress the modern 
+institution in the language and garb of those ancient ones. 
+
+W hen great landed estates were a sort of principalities, entails 
+might not be unreasonable. Like what are called thefundamental 
+laws of some monarchies, they might frequently hinder the secu- 
+rity of thousands from being endangered by the caprice or ex- 
+travagance of one man. But in the present state of Europe, when 
+small as well as great estates derive their security from thelaws of 
+their country, nothing can be more completely absurd. They are 
+founded upon the most absurd of all suppositions, the supposi- 
+tion that every successive generation of men have not an equal 
+
+
+
+right to theearth, and to all that it possesses; but that the property 
+of the present generation should be restrained and regulated ac- 
+cording to thefancy of those who died, perhapsfive hundred years 
+ago. Entails, however, are still respected, through the greater part 
+of Europe; Inthosecountries, particularly, in which noble birth is 
+a necessary qualification for the enjoyment either of civil or mili- 
+tary honours. Entails are thought necessary for maintaining this 
+exclusive privilege of the nobility to the great offices and honours 
+of their country; and that order having usurped one unjust advan- 
+tage over the rest of their fellow- citizens, lest their poverty should 
+render it ridiculous, it isthought reasonablethat they should have 
+another. The common law of England, indeed, is said to abhor 
+perpetuities, and they are accordingly more restricted there than 
+in any other European monarchy; though even England is not 
+altogether without them. In Scotland, more than one fifth, per- 
+haps more than onethird part of the whole lands in the country, 
+are at present supposed to be under strict entail . 
+
+Great tracts of uncultivated land were in this manner not only 
+engrossed by particular families, but the possibility of their being 
+divided again was as much as possible precluded for ever. It sel- 
+dom happens, however, that a great proprietor isa great improver. 
+In the disorderly times which gave birth to those barbarous insti- 
+tutions, thegreat proprietor was sufficiently employed indefend- 
+
+
+
+313 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+ing his own territories, or in extending his jurisdiction and au- 
+thority over those of his neighbours. He had no leisure to attend 
+to the cultivation and improvement of land. When the establish- 
+ment of law and order afforded him this leisure, he often wanted 
+the inclination, and almost always the requisite abilities. If the 
+expense of his house and person either equalled or exceeded his 
+revenue, as it did very frequently, he had no stock to employ in 
+this manner. If he was an economist, he generally found it more 
+profitableto employ his annual savingsin new purchases than in 
+the improvement of his old estate. To improve land with profit, 
+like all other commercial projects, requires an exact attention to 
+small savings and small gains, of which a man born to a great 
+fortune, even though naturally frugal, isvery seldom capableThe 
+situation of such a person naturally disposes him to attend rather 
+to ornament, which pleases his fancy, than to profit, for which he 
+hassolittleoccasion.Theeleganceof hisdress, of hisequipage, of 
+his house and household furniture, are objects which, from his 
+infancy, he has been accustomed to have someanxiety about. T he 
+turn of mind which this habit naturally forms, follows him when 
+he comes to think of the improvement of land. H e embellishes, 
+perhaps, four or five hundred acres in the neighbourhood of his 
+house, at ten times the expense which the land is worth after all 
+his improvements; and finds, that if hewas to improve his whole 
+
+
+
+estate i n the same manner, and he has little taste for any other, he 
+would be a bankrupt before he had finished the tenth part of it. 
+There still remain, in both parts of the united kingdom, some 
+great estates which have continued, without interruption, in the 
+handsof thesamefamily since thetimes of feudal anarchy. Com- 
+pare the present condition of those estates with the possessions of 
+the small proprietors in their neighbourhood, and you will re- 
+quire no other argument to convince you how unfavourable such 
+extensive property is to improvement. 
+
+If little improvement was to be expected from such great pro- 
+prietors, still less was to be hoped for from those who occupied 
+the land under them. In theancient state of Europe, theoccupiers 
+of land were all tenants at will. They were all, or almost all, slaves, 
+but their slavery was of a milder kind than that known among the 
+ancient Greeks and Romans, or even in our West Indian colonies. 
+They were supposed to belong more directly to the land than to 
+their master. They could, therefore, be sold with it, but not sepa- 
+rately They could marry, provided it was with theconsent of their 
+master; and he could not afterwards dissolve the marriage by sell- 
+ing the man and wife to different persons. If he maimed or mur- 
+dered any of them, he was liable to some penalty, though gener- 
+ally but to a small one. T hey werenot, however, capableof acquir- 
+ing property. W hatever they acquired was acquired to their mas- 
+
+
+
+314 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+ter, and he could take it from them at pleasure. W hatever cultiva- 
+tion and improvement could be carried on by meansof such slaves, 
+was properly carried on by their master. ltwasathisexpense.The 
+seed, the cattle, and the instruments of husbandry, were all his. It 
+was for his benefit. Such slaves could acquire nothing but their 
+daily maintenance. It was properly the proprietor himself, there 
+fore, that in this case occupied hisown lands, and cultivated them 
+by his own bondmen. This species of slavery still subsists in Rus- 
+sia, Poland, Hungary, Bohemia, Moravia, and other parts of Ger- 
+many. It is only in the western and south-western provinces of 
+Europe that it has gradually been abolished altogether. 
+
+But if great improvements are seldom to be expected from great 
+proprietors, they are least of all to be expected when they employ 
+slaves for their workmen. Theexperience of all ages and nations, I 
+believe, demonstrates that the work done by slaves, though it ap- 
+pears to cost only their maintenance, is in the end the dearest of 
+any. A person who can acquire no property can have no other 
+interest but to eat as much and to labour as little as possible. 
+W hatever work he does beyond what is sufficient to purchase his 
+own maintenance, can be squeezed out of him by violence only, 
+and not by any interest of hisown. I n ancient Italy, how much the 
+cultivation of corn degenerated, how unprofitable it became to 
+the master, when it fell under the management of slaves, is re 
+
+
+
+marked both by Pliny and Columella. In thetime of Aristotle, it 
+had not been much better in ancient Greece. Speaking of theideal 
+republic described in thelawsof Plato, to maintain 5000 idlemen 
+(the number of warriors supposed necessary for its defence), to- 
+gether with their women and servants, would require, he says, a 
+territoryofboundlessextentand fertility, liketheplainsof Babylon. 
+The pride of man makes him love to domineer, and nothing 
+mortifieshim so much asto be obliged to condescend to persuade 
+his inferiors. Wherever the law allows it, and the nature of the 
+work can afford it, therefore, he will generally prefer the service of 
+slaves to that of freemen. The planting of sugar and tobacco can 
+afford theexpenseof slave cultivation. Theraisingof corn, it seems, 
+in the present times, cannot. In the English colonies, of which the 
+principal produce is corn, the far greater part of the work is done 
+by freemen. The late resolution of the Quakers in Pennsylvania, 
+to set at liberty all their negro slaves, may satisfy us that their 
+number cannot be very great. H ad they made any considerable 
+part of their property, such a resolution could never have been 
+agreed to. In our sugar colonies, on the contrary, the whole work 
+is done by slaves, and in our tobacco colonies a very great part of 
+it. The profits of a sugar plantation in any of our West Indian 
+colonies, aregenerally much greater than thoseof any other culti- 
+vation thatisknown either in Europe or America; and theprofits 
+
+
+
+315 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+of a tobacco plantation, though inferior to those of sugar, are su- 
+perior to those of corn, as has already been observed. Both can 
+afford the expense of slave cultivation but sugar can afford it still 
+better than tobacco. The number of negroes, accordingly, ismuch 
+greater, in proportion to that of whites, in our sugar than in our 
+tobacco colonies. 
+
+To the slave cultivators of ancient times gradually succeeded a 
+species of farmers, known at present in France by the name of 
+metayers. They are called in Latin Coloni Partiarii. They have been 
+so long in disuse in England, that at present I know no English 
+namefor them. Theproprietor furnished them with theseed, cattle, 
+and instruments of husbandry, the whole stock, in short, neces- 
+sary for cultivating the farm. The produce was divided equally 
+between the proprietor and the farmer, after setting aside what 
+wasjudged necessary for keeping up thestock, which was restored 
+to the proprietor, when the farmer either quitted or was turned 
+out of the farm. 
+
+Land occupied by such tenants is properly cultivated at the ex- 
+pense of the proprietors, asmuch as that occupied by slaves. There 
+is, however, on every essential difference between them. Such ten- 
+ants, being freemen, are capable of acquiring property; and hav- 
+ing a certain proportion of the produce of the land, they have a 
+plain interest that the whole produce should be as great as pos- 
+
+
+
+sible, in order that their own proportion may be so. A slave, on 
+thecontrary, who can acquire nothing but his maintenance, con- 
+sultshisown ease, by making the land produce as little as possible 
+over and above that maintenance. It is probable that it was partly 
+upon account of this advantage, and partly upon account of the 
+encroachments which the sovereigns, always jealous of the great 
+lords, gradually encouraged their villains to make upon their au- 
+thority, and which seem, at least, to have been such as rendered 
+this species of servitude altogether inconvenient, that tenure in 
+villanage gradually wore out through the greater part of Europe. 
+The time and manner, however, in which so important a revolu- 
+tion was brought about, isoneof themostobscurepointsin mod- 
+ern history. The church of Rome claims great merit in it; and it is 
+certain, that so early as the twelfth century, Alexander III. pub- 
+lished a bull forthegeneral emancipation of slaves. It seems, how- 
+ever, to have been rather a pious exhortation, than a law to which 
+exact obediencewas required from thefaithful. Slavery continued 
+to take place almost universally for several centuries afterwards, 
+till it was gradually abolished by the joint operation of the two 
+interests abovementioned; that of theproprietor on theonehand, 
+and that of thesovereign on theother. A villain, enfranchised, and 
+at the same time allowed to continue in possession of the land, 
+having no stock of his own, could cultivate it only by means of 
+
+
+
+316 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+what the landlord advanced to him, and must therefore have been 
+what the French call a metayer. 
+
+It could never, however, be the interest even of this last species 
+of cultivators, to layout, in thefurther improvement of the land, 
+any part of the little stock which they might save from their own 
+share of the produce; because the landlord, who laid out nothing, 
+was to get one half of whatever it produced. The tithe, which is 
+but a tenth of the produce, is found to be a very great hindrance 
+to improvement. A tax, therefore, which amounted to one half, 
+must have been an effectual bar to it. It might be the interest of a 
+metayer to make the land produce as much as could be brought 
+out of it by means of the stock furnished by the proprietor; but it 
+could never be his interest to mix any part of his own with it. In 
+France, where five parts out of six of the whole kingdom are said 
+to be still occupied by this species of cultivators, the proprietors 
+complain, that their metayers take every opportunity of employ- 
+ing their master's cattle rather in carriage than in cultivation; be- 
+cause, in theonecase, they get the whole profits to themselves, in 
+the other they share them with their landlord. Thisspecies of ten- 
+ants still subsists in some parts of Scotland. They are called steel- 
+bow ten ants. Those ancient English ten ants, who are said by Chief- 
+Baron Gilbert and Dr Blackstoneto have been rather bailiffs of 
+the landlord than farmers, properly so called, were probably of the 
+
+
+
+same kind. 
+
+To this species of tenantry succeeded, though by very slow de- 
+grees, farmers, properly so called, who cultivated the land with 
+their own stock, paying a rent certain to the landlord. W hen such 
+farmers have a lease for a term of years, they may sometimes find 
+it for their interest to lay out part of their capital in the further 
+i mprovement of the farm; because they may sometimes expect to 
+recover it, with a large profit, before the expiration of the lease. 
+The possession, even of such farmers, however, was long extremely 
+precarious, and still is so in many parts of Europe. They could, 
+before theexpi ration of theirterm, belegally ousted of their leases 
+by a new purchaser; in England, even, by thefictitious action of a 
+common recovery. If they were turned out illegally by theviolence 
+of their master, the action by which they obtained redress was 
+extremely imperfect. It did not always rein state them in the pos- 
+session of theland, but gave them damages, which never amounted 
+to a real loss. Even in England, the country, perhaps of Europe, 
+where the yeomanry has always been most respected, it was not 
+till about the 14th of Henry VI I. that the action of ejectment was 
+invented, by which the tenant recovers, not damages only, but 
+possession, and in which hisclaim isnot necessarily concluded by 
+theuncertain decision of asingleassize. Thisaction has been found 
+so effectual a remedy, that, in themodern practice, when theland- 
+
+
+
+317 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+lord has occasion to sue for the possession of the land, he seldom 
+makes use of the actions which properly belong to him as a land- 
+lord, the writ of right or the writ of entry, but sues in the name of 
+his tenant, by the writ of ejectment. In England, therefore the 
+security of the tenant is equal to that of the proprietor. In En- 
+gland, besides, a lease for life of forty shillings a-year value is a 
+freehold, and entitles the lessee to a vote for a member of parlia- 
+ment; and as a great part of the yeomanry have freeholds of this 
+kind, the whole order becomes respectable to their landlords, on 
+account of the political consideration which thisgives them. There 
+is, I believe, nowhere in Europe, except in England, any instance 
+of the tenant building upon the land of which he had no lease, 
+and trusting that the honour of his landlord would takeno advan- 
+tage of so important an improvement. Those laws and customs, 
+sofavourabletotheyeomanry, have perhaps contributed more to 
+the present grandeur of England, than all their boasted regula- 
+tions of commerce taken together. 
+
+The law which secures the longest leases against successors of 
+every kind, is, so far as I know, peculiar to Great Britain. It was 
+introduced into Scotland so early as 1449, byalawofjamesll. Its 
+beneficial influence, however, has been much obstructed by en- 
+tails; theheirsof en tail being generally restrained from letting leases 
+for any long term of years, frequently for more than one year. A 
+
+
+
+late act of parliament has, in this respect, somewhat slackened 
+their fetters, though they are still by much too strait. In Scotland, 
+besides, as no leasehold gives a vote for a member of parliament, 
+theyeomanry are upon this account less respectableto their land- 
+lordsthan in England. 
+
+I n other parts of Europe, after it wasfound convenient to secure 
+tenants both against heirs and purchasers, theterm of their secu- 
+rity wasstill limited to a very short period; in France, for exam pie, 
+to nine years from the commencement of the lease. It has in that 
+country, indeed, been lately extended to twentyseven, a period 
+still too short to encourage the tenant to make the most impor- 
+tant improvements. The proprietors of land were anciently the 
+legi si atorsof every part of Europe. Thelaws relating to land, there- 
+fore, were all calculated for what they supposed the interest of the 
+proprietor. It wasfor hisinterest, they had imagined, that no lease 
+granted by any of his predecessors should hinder him from enjoy- 
+ing, during a long term of years, thefull value of his land. Avarice 
+and injustice are always short-sighted, and they did not foresee 
+how much this regulation must obstruct improvement, and thereby 
+hurt, in the long-run, the real interest of the landlord. 
+
+Thefarmers, too, besides paying the rent, were anciently, it was 
+supposed, bound to perform a great number of services to the 
+landlord, which were seldom either specified in the lease, orregu- 
+
+
+
+318 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+lated by any precise rule, but by the use and wont of the manor or 
+barony. These services, therefore, being almost entirely arbitrary, 
+subjected thetenantto many vexations. In Scotland the abolition 
+of all services not precisely stipulated in thelease, has, in thecourse 
+of a few years, very much altered for the better the condition of 
+the yeomanry of that country. 
+
+T he public services to which the yeomanry were bound, were 
+not less arbitrary than the private ones. To make and maintain the 
+high roads, a servitude which still subsists, I believe, everywhere, 
+though with different degrees of oppression in different countries, 
+was not the only one. W hen the king's troops, when his house- 
+hold, or his officers of any kind, passed through any part of the 
+country, the yeomanry were bound to provide them with horses, 
+carriages, and provisions, at a price regulated by the purveyor. 
+Great Britain is, I believe, theonly monarchy in Europe where the 
+oppression of purveyance has been entirely abolished. It still sub- 
+sists in France and Germany. 
+
+The public taxes, to which they were subject, were as irregular 
+and oppressive as theservicesTheancient lords, though extremely 
+unwilling to grant, themselves, any pecuniary aid to their sover- 
+eign, easily allowed him to tallage, as they called it, their tenants, 
+and had not knowledge enough to foreseehow much thismust, in 
+the end, affect their own revenue. The taille, as it still subsists in 
+
+
+
+France, may serve as an example of those ancient tallages. It is a 
+tax upon thesupposed profits of the farmer, which they estimate 
+bythestock that he has upon thefarm. It ishisinterest, therefore, 
+to appear to have aslittleas possible, and consequently to employ 
+aslittleaspossiblein itscultivation, and nonein its improvement. 
+Should any stock happen to accumulate in the handsof a French 
+farmer, thetailleisalmost equal to a prohibition of its ever being 
+employed upon the land. This tax, besides, is supposed to 
+dishonour whoever is subject to it, and to degrade him below, not 
+only the rank of a gentleman, but that of a burgher; and whoever 
+rents the lands of another becomes subject to it. N o gentleman, 
+nor even any burgher, who has stock, will submit to thisdegrada- 
+tion. This tax, therefore, not only hinders the stock which accu- 
+mulates upon the land from being employed in its improvement, 
+but drives away all other stock from it. The ancient tenths and 
+fifteenths, so usual in England in former times, seem, so far as 
+they affected the land, to have been taxes of the same nature with 
+thetaille. 
+
+U nder all thesediscouragements, littleimprovement could be ex- 
+pected from the occupiers of land. T hat order of people, with all the 
+liberty and security which law can give, must alwaysimproveunder 
+great disadvantage. The farmer, compared with the proprietor, is as 
+a merchant who trades with burrowed money, compared with one 
+
+
+
+319 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+who trades with his own. The stock of both may improve; but that 
+of the one, with only equal good conduct, must always improve 
+more slowly than that of the other, on account of the large share of 
+theprofits which isconsumed by the interest of the loan. The lands 
+cultivated by thefarmer must, in the same manner, with only equal 
+good conduct, be improved more slowly than those cultivated by 
+the proprietor, on accountof thelargeshareof theproduce which is 
+consumed in the rent, and which, had thefarmer been proprietor, 
+he might have employed in the further improvement of the land. 
+The station of a farmer, besides, is, from the nature of things, infe- 
+rior to that of a proprietor. T hrough the greater part of Europe, the 
+yeomanry are regarded as an inferior rank of people, even to the 
+better sort of tradesmen and mechanics, and in all parts of Europe 
+to the great merchants and master manufacturers It can seldom 
+happen, therefore, that a man of any considerablestock should quit 
+thesuperior, in order to placehimsdf in an inferior station. Even in 
+the present state of Europe, therefore, littlestock islikely to go from 
+any other profession to thei mprovement of land in the way of farm- 
+ing. M oredoes, perhaps, in Great Britain than in any other country, 
+though even there the great stocks which are in some places em- 
+ployed in farming, have generally been acquired by fanning, the 
+trade, perhaps, in which, of all others, stock is commonly acquired 
+most slowly. After small proprietors, however, rich and great farm- 
+
+
+
+ers are in every country the principal improvers. There are more 
+such, perhaps, in England than in any other European monarchy. 
+In therepublican governments of H olland, and of Bernein Switzer- 
+land, the farmers are said to be not inferior to those of England. 
+
+The ancient policy of Europe was, over and above all this, 
+unfavourableto the improvement and cultivation of land, whether 
+carried on by the proprietor or by thefarmer; first, by the general 
+prohibition of the exportation of corn, without a special licence, 
+which seems to have been a very universal regulation; and, sec- 
+ondly, by the restraints which were laid upon the inland com- 
+merce, not only of corn, but of almost every other part of the 
+produceof thefarm, bytheabsurd laws against engrossers, regraters, 
+and forestallers, and by the privileges of fairs and markets. It has 
+already been observed in what manner the prohibition of the ex- 
+portation of corn, together with some encouragement given to 
+the importation of foreign corn, obstructed the cultivation of an- 
+cient Italy, naturally the most fertile country in Europe, and at 
+that time the seat of the greatest empire in the world. To what 
+degree such restraints upon the inland commerce of this com- 
+modity, joined to the general prohibition of exportation, must 
+have discouraged the cultivation of countries less fertile, and less 
+favourably circumstanced, it isnot, perhaps, very easy to imagine. 
+
+
+
+320 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III 
+
+OF THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF CITIES 
+
+AND TOWNS, AFTER THE FALL OF THE 
+
+ROMAN EMPIRE 
+
+The inhabitants of cities and towns were, after the fall of the 
+Roman empire, not morefavoured than thoseofthecountry. They 
+consisted, indeed, of a very different order of peoplefrom thefirst 
+inhabitants of theancient republics of Greece and Italy. These last 
+were composed chiefly of the proprietors of lands, among whom 
+the public territory was originally divided, and who found it con- 
+venient to build their houses in the neighbourhood of one an- 
+other, and to surround them with a wall, for the sake of common 
+defence. After thefall of the Roman empire, on thecontrary, the 
+proprietors of land seem generally to have lived in fortified castles 
+on their own estates, and in the midst of their own tenants and 
+dependants. The towns were chiefly inhabited by tradesmen and 
+mechanics, who seem, in those days, to have been of servile, or 
+very nearly of servile condition. The privileges which we find 
+granted by ancient charters to the inhabitants of someof the prin- 
+cipal towns in Europe, sufficiently show what they were before 
+those grants. T he people to whom it is granted as a privilege, that 
+
+
+
+they might give away their own daughters in marriage without the 
+consent of their lord, that upon their death their own children, 
+and not their lord, should succeed to their goods, and that they 
+might dispose of theirown effects by will, must, before those grants, 
+have been either altogether, or very nearly, in the same state of 
+villanage with the occupiers of land in the country. 
+
+They seem, indeed, to have been a very poor, mean set of people, 
+who seemed to travel about with their goods from place to place, 
+and from fair to fair, like the hawkers and pedlars of the present 
+times. In all the different countries of Europe then, in the same 
+manner asin several of theTartar governments of Asia at present, 
+taxes used to be levied upon the persons and goods of travellers, 
+when they passed through certain manors, when they went over 
+certain bridges, when they carried abouttheirgoodsfrom place to 
+place in a fair, when they erected in it a booth or stall to sell them 
+in. These different taxes were known in England bythenamesof 
+passage, pontage, lastage, and stallage. Sometimes the king, some- 
+times a great lord, who had, it seems, upon some occasions, au- 
+thority to do this, would grant to particular traders, to such par- 
+ticularly aslived in theirown demesnes, a general exemption from 
+such taxes. Such traders, though in other respects of servile, or 
+verynearly of servilecondition, wereupon thisaccount called free 
+traders. T hey, in return, usually paid to their protector a sort of 
+
+
+
+321 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+annual poll-tax. In those days protection was seldom granted with- 
+out a valuable consideration, and this tax might perhaps be con- 
+sidered as compensation for what their patronsmightloseby their 
+exemption from other taxes. At first, both those poll-taxes and 
+those exemptions seem to have been altogether personal, and to 
+have affected only particular individuals, during either their lives, 
+or the pleasure of their protectors. In the very imperfect accounts 
+which have been published from Doomsday-book, of several of 
+the townsof England, mention is frequently made, sometimes of 
+thetax which particular burghers paid, each of them, either to the 
+king, or to some other great lord, for this sort of protection, and 
+sometimes of thegeneral amountonlyof all those taxes. {seeBradys 
+Historical Treatise of Cities and Boroughs p. 3. etc.} 
+
+But how servile soever may have been originally the condition 
+of the inhabitants of the towns, it appears evidently, that they 
+arri ved at liberty and independency much earlier than theoccupi- 
+ersof land in the country. That part of the king's revenue which 
+arose from such poll-taxes in any particular town, used commonly 
+to be let in farm, during a term of years, for a rent certain, some- 
+times to thesheriff of the county, and sometimes to other persons. 
+The burghers themselves frequently got credit enough to be ad- 
+mitted to farm the revenues of this sort winch arose out of their 
+own town, they becomingjointly and severally answerablefor the 
+
+
+
+whole rent. -(Bee M adox, Firma Burgi, p. 18; also H istory of the 
+Exchequer, chap. 10, sect, v, p. 223, first edition. }To let a farm in 
+this manner, was quite agreeable to the usual economy of, I be- 
+lieve, the sovereigns of all the different countries of Europe, who 
+used frequently to let whole manors to all the tenants of those 
+manors, they becoming jointly and severally answerable for the 
+whole rent; but in return being allowed to collect it in their own 
+way, and to pay it into the king's exchequer by the hands of their 
+own bailiff, and being thus altogether freed from the insolence of 
+the king's officers; a circumstance in those days regarded asof the 
+greatest importance. 
+
+At first, the farm of the town was probably let to the burghers, 
+in the same manner as it had been to other farmers, for a term of 
+years only. In process of time, however, it seems to have become 
+the general practice to grant it to them in fee, that is for ever, 
+reserving a rent certain, never afterwards to be augmented. The 
+payment having thus become perpetual, the exemptions, in re- 
+turn, for which it was made, naturally became perpetual too. T hose 
+exemptions, therefore, ceased to be personal, and could not after- 
+wards be considered as belonging to individuals, as individuals, 
+but as burghers of a particular burgh, which, upon this account, 
+was called a free burgh, for the same reason that they had been 
+called free burghers or freetraders. 
+
+
+
+322 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+Along with thisgrant, theimportant privileges, abovementioned, 
+that they might giveaway their own daughters in marriage, that 
+their children should succeed to them, and that they might dis- 
+pose of their own effects by will, were generally bestowed upon 
+the burghers of the town to whom it was given. W hether such 
+privileges had before been usually granted, along with the free- 
+dom of trade, to particular burghers, as individuals, I know not. I 
+reckon itnotimprobablethat they were, though I cannot produce 
+any direct evidence of it. But however this may have been, the 
+principal attributesof villanageand slavery being thus taken away 
+from them, they now at least became really free, in our present 
+sense of the word freedom. 
+
+N or was this all. T hey were generally at the same time erected 
+into a commonalty or corporation, with the privilege of having 
+magistrates and a town-council of their own, of making bye-laws 
+for their own government, of building walls for their own de- 
+fence, and of reducing all their inhabitants under a sort of military 
+discipline, by obliging them to watch and ward; that is, as an- 
+ciently understood, to guard and defend those walls against all 
+attacks and surprises, by night as well as by day. In England they 
+were generally exempted from suit to the hundred and county 
+courts: and all such pleas as should arise among them, thepleasof 
+the crown excepted, were left to the decision of their own magis- 
+
+
+
+trates. In other countries, much greater and moreextensivejuris- 
+d i cti on s were frequently gran ted to them. {SeeMadox, Firma Burgi. 
+See also Pfeffel in theRemarkableeventsunder Frederick 1 1 . and his 
+Successorsof the H ouseof Suabia.} 
+
+It might, probably, be necessary to grant to such towns as were 
+admitted to farm their own revenues, some sort of compulsive 
+jurisdiction to oblige their own citizensto make payment. I n those 
+disorderly times, it might have been extremely inconvenient to 
+have left them to seek thissort of justice from any other tribunal. 
+But it must seem extraordinary, that the sovereigns of all the dif- 
+ferent countries of Europe should have exchanged in thismanner 
+for a rent certain, never more to be augmented, that branch of 
+their revenue, which was, perhaps, of all others, the most likely to 
+be improved by the natural course of things, without either ex- 
+pense or attention of their own; and that they should, besides, 
+have in this manner voluntarily erected a sort of independent re- 
+publics in the heart of their own dominions. 
+
+In order to understand this, it must be remembered, that, in 
+those days, the sovereign of perhaps no country in Europe was 
+able to protect, through the whole extent of his dominions, the 
+weaker part of his subjects from the oppression of the great lords. 
+T hose whom the law could not protect, and who were not strong 
+enough to defend themselves, were obliged either to have recourse 
+
+
+
+323 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+to the protection of some great lord, and in order to obtain it, to 
+become either his slaves or vassals; or to enter into a league of 
+mutual defence for the common protection of one another. The 
+inhabitants of cities and burghs, considered as single individuals, 
+had no power to defend themselves; but by entering into a league 
+of mutual defence with their neighbours, they were capable of 
+making no contemptible resistance. The lords despised the 
+burghers, whom they considered not only asa different order, but 
+asaparcel of emancipated slaves, almost of a different speciesfrom 
+themselves. The wealth of the burghers never failed to provoke 
+their envy and indignation, and they plundered them upon every 
+occasion without mercy or remorse. T he burghers naturally hated 
+and feared the lords The king hated and feared them too; but 
+though, perhaps, he might despise, he had no reason either to 
+hate or fear the burghers. M utual interest, therefore, disposed them 
+to support the king, and the king to support them against the 
+lords. T hey were the enemies of hisenemies, and it was his interest 
+to render them as secure and independent of those enemies as he 
+could. By granting them magistrates of their own, the privilege of 
+making bye-laws for their own government, that of building walls 
+for their own defence, and that of reducing all their inhabitants 
+under a sort of military discipline, he gave them all the means of 
+security and independency of thebaronswhich it wasin hispower 
+
+
+
+to bestow. W ithout the establishment of some regular government 
+of this kind, without some authority to compel their inhabitants 
+to act according to some certain plan or system, no voluntary 
+league of mutual defence could either have afforded them any 
+permanent security, or have enabled them to give the king any 
+considerable support. By granting them the farm of their own 
+town in fee, hetook away from those whom he wished to have for 
+his friends, and, if one may say so, for his allies, all ground of 
+jealousy and suspicion, that hewaseverafterwardsto oppress them, 
+either by raising the farm-rent of their town, or by granting it to 
+some other farmer. 
+
+The princes who lived upon the worst terms with their barons, 
+seem accordingly to have been the most liberal in grants of this 
+kind to their burghs. Kingjohn of England, for example, appears 
+to have been a most munificent benefactor to his towns. {See 
+Madox.} Philip I. of France lost all authority over his barons. To- 
+wardstheend of hisreign, hisson Lewis, known afterwards by the 
+name of Lewis the Fat, consulted, according to Father Daniel, 
+with thebishopsof theroyal demesnes, concerningthemost proper 
+means of restraining the violence of the great lords. Their advice 
+consisted of two different proposals. ne was to erect a new order 
+of jurisdiction, by establishing magistrates and a town-council in 
+every considerabletown of hisdemesnes.Theotherwastoform a 
+
+
+
+324 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+new militia, by making the inhabitants of those towns, under the 
+command of their own magistrates, march out upon proper occa- 
+sionstotheassistanceof theking. It isfrom this period, according 
+to the French antiquarians, that we are to date the institution of 
+the magistrates and councils of cities in France. It was during the 
+unprosp erousreignsof the princes of thehouseofSuabia, that the 
+greater part of the free towns of G ermany received the first grants 
+of their privileges, and that the famous H anseatic league first be- 
+came formidable. {See Pfeffel.} 
+
+Themilitiaof thecities seems, in those times, not to have been 
+inferior to that of the country; and as they could be more readily 
+assembled upon any sudden occasion, they frequently had the 
+advantagein their disputes with theneighbouring lords. In coun- 
+tries such as Italy or Switzerland, in which, on account either of 
+their distance from theprinci pal seat of government, of the natu- 
+ral strength of the country itself, or of some other reason, the 
+sovereign cameto lose the wholeof hisauthority; theci ties gener- 
+ally became independent republics, and conquered all thenobility 
+in their neighbourhood; obliging them to pull down their castles 
+in thecountry, and to live, likeother peaceableinhabitants, in the 
+city. This is the short history of the republic of Berne, as well as of 
+several other citiesin Switzerland. If you exceptVenice, for of that 
+city the history is somewhat different, it is the history of all the 
+
+
+
+considerable Italian republics, of which so great a number arose 
+and perished between theend of thetwelfth and thebeginningof 
+the sixteenth century. 
+
+I n countries such asFranceand England, where the authority of 
+the sovereign, though frequently very low, never was destroyed 
+altogether, thecities had no opportunity of becoming entirely in- 
+dependent. They became, however, so considerable, that the sov- 
+ereign could impose no tax upon them, besides the stated farm- 
+rent of the town, without their own consent. They were, there- 
+fore, called upon to send deputies to the general assembly of the 
+states of the kingdom, where they might join with the clergy and 
+the barons in granting, upon urgent occasions, some extraordi- 
+nary aid to theking. Being generally, too, more favourable to his 
+power, their deputies seem sometimes to have been employed by 
+him as a counterbalance in those assemblies to the authority of 
+the great lords. H ence the origin of the representation of burghs 
+in the states- general of all great monarchies in Europe. 
+
+rder and good government, and along with them the liberty 
+and security of individuals, were in this manner established in 
+cities, at a time when the occupiers of land in the country, were 
+exposed to every sort of violence. But men in this defenceless state 
+naturally content themselves with their necessary subsistence; be- 
+cause, to acquire more, might only tempt the injustice of their 
+
+
+
+325 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+oppressors. On the contrary, when they are secure of en joying the 
+fruits of their industry they naturally exert it to better their condi- 
+tion, and to acquirenot only the necessaries, but theconveniencies 
+and elegancies of life. T hat industry, therefore, which aimsat some 
+thing more than necessary subsistence, was established in cities 
+long beforeitwascommonly practised by theoccupiersof land in 
+the country. If, in the hands of a poor cultivator, oppressed with 
+the servitude of villanage, some little stock should accumulate, he 
+would naturally conceal it with great carefrom hismaster, to whom 
+it would otherwise have belonged, and take the first opportunity 
+of running away to a town. The law was at that time so indulgent 
+to the inhabitants of towns, and so desirous of diminishing the 
+authority of the lords over those of the country, that if he could 
+conceal himself there from the pursuit of his lord for a year, he 
+was free for ever. Whatever stock, therefore, accumulated in the 
+hands of the industrious part of the inhabitants of the country, 
+naturally took refuge in cities, as the only sanctuaries in which it 
+could be secure to the person that acquired it. 
+
+The inhabitants of a city, itistrue, must always ultimately de- 
+rive their subsistence, and the whole materials and meansof their 
+industry, from thecountry Butthoseofacity situated near either 
+the sea-coast or the banks of a navigable river, are not necessarily 
+confined to derive them from thecountry in their neighbourhood. 
+
+
+
+They have a much wider range, and may draw them from the 
+mostremotecornersoftheworld, either in exchangefor themanu- 
+factured produce of their own industry, or by performing the of- 
+fice of carriers between distant countries, and exchanging the pro- 
+duceof onefor that of another. A city might, in this manner, grow 
+up to great wealth and splendour, while not only the country in 
+its neighbourhood, but all those to which it traded, were in pov- 
+erty and wretchedness. Each of those countries, perhaps, taken 
+singly, could afford it but a small part, either of its subsistence or 
+of its employment; but all of them taken together, could afford it 
+both a great subsistence and a great employment. There were, how- 
+ever, within the narrow circle of the commerce of those times, 
+some countries that were opulent and industrious. Such was the 
+Greek empire as long as it subsisted, and that of the Saracens dur- 
+ing the reigns of the Abassides. Such, too, was Egypt till it was 
+conquered bytheTurks, some part of the coast of Barbary and all 
+those provinces of Spain which were under the government of the 
+M oors. 
+
+The cities of Italy seem to have been the first in Europe which 
+were raised by commerce to any considerable degree of opulence. 
+Italy lay in the centre of what was at that time the improved and 
+civilized part of the world. Thecrusades, too, though, bythegreat 
+waste of stock and destruction of inhabitants which they occa- 
+
+
+
+326 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+sioned, they must necessarily have retarded the progress of the 
+greater part of Europe, were extremely favourable to that of some 
+Italian cities. The great armies which marched from all parts to 
+the conquest of the H oly Land, gave extraordinary encourage- 
+ment to the shipping of Venice, Genoa, and Pisa, sometimes in 
+transporting them thither, and always in supplying them with pro- 
+visions. They were the commissaries, if one may say so, of those 
+armies; and the most destructive frenzy that ever befd the Euro- 
+pean nations, was a source of opulence to those republics. 
+
+The inhabitants of trading cities, by importing the improved 
+manufactures and expensive luxuries of richer countries, afforded 
+somefood to the vanity of the great proprietors, who eagerly pur- 
+chased them with great quantities of the rude produce of their 
+own lands. Thecommerceof a great part of Europein those times, 
+accordingly, consisted chiefly in the exchange of their own rude, 
+for the manufactured produce of more civilized nations. Thusthe 
+wool of England used to be exchanged for the wines of France, 
+and thefinedothsof Flanders, in thesame manner as thecorn in 
+Poland is at this day, exchanged for the wines and brandies of 
+France, and for the silks and velvets of France and Italy. 
+
+A taste for the finer and more improved manufactures was, in 
+thismanner, introduced byforeign commerceinto countries where 
+no such works were carried on. But when this taste became so 
+
+
+
+general as to occasion a considerable demand, the merchants, in 
+order to save the expense of carriage, naturally endeavoured to 
+establish some manufactures of the same kind in their own coun- 
+try. H ence the origin of the first manufactures for distant sale, 
+that seem to have been established in the western provinces of 
+Europe, after thefall of the Roman empire. 
+
+No large country, it must be observed, ever did or could subsist 
+without some sort of manufactures being carried on in it; and 
+when it is said of any such country that it has no manufactures, it 
+must always be understood of the finer and more improved, or of 
+such as are fit for distant sale. In every large country both the 
+clothing and household furniture or the far greater part of the 
+people, are the produce of their own industry. This is even more 
+universally the case in those poor countries which are commonly 
+said to haveno manufactures, than in those rich ones that are said 
+to abound in them. In the latter you will generally find, both in 
+the clothes and household furniture of the lowest rank of people, 
+a much greater proportion of foreign productions than in the 
+former. 
+
+Those manufactures which are fit for distant sale, seem to have 
+been introduced into different countries in two different ways. 
+
+Sometimes they have been introduced in themanner above men- 
+tioned, bytheviolent operation, if onemay say so, of thestocksof 
+
+
+
+327 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+particular merchants and undertakers, who established them in 
+imitation of some foreign manufactures of the same kind. Such 
+manufactures, therefore, are the offspring of foreign commerce; 
+and such seem to have been the ancient manufactures of silks, 
+velvets, and brocades, which flourished in Lucca during the thir- 
+teenth century. T hey were banished from thence by thetyranny of 
+one of M achiavd's heroes, Castruccio Castracani. In 1310, nine 
+hundred families were driven out of Lucca, of whom thirty-one 
+retired to Venice, and offered to introduce there thesilk manufac- 
+ture. {SeeSandi Istoria civiledeVinezia, part 2 vol. i, page247 and 
+256.}Thdr offer was accepted, many privileges were conferred 
+upon them, and they began the manufacture with three hundred 
+workmen. Such, too, seem to have been the manufactures of fine 
+cloths that anciently flourished in Flanders, and which were in- 
+troduced into England in the beginning of therdgn of Elizabeth, 
+and such are thepresent silk manufactures of Lyonsand Spitalfidds. 
+Manufactures introduced in this manner are generally employed 
+upon fordgn materials, bang imitations of foreign manufactures. 
+When theVenetian manufacture was first established, themateri- 
+alswereall broughtfrom Sicily and the Levant. The more ancient 
+manufacture of Lucca was likewise carried on with fordgn mate- 
+rials. The cultivation of mulberry trees, and the breeding of silk- 
+worms, seem not to have been common in the northern parts of 
+
+
+
+Italy before the sixteenth century. Those arts were not introduced 
+into France till the rdgn of Charles IX. The manufactures of 
+Flanders were carried on chiefly with Spanish and English wool. 
+Spanish wool was the material, not of the first woollen manufac- 
+ture of England, but of the first that was fit for distant sale. M ore 
+than one half the materialsof the Lyons manufacture isat this day 
+fordgn silk; when it was first established, the whole, or very nearly 
+thewhole, was so. NopartofthematerialsoftheSpitalfiddsmanu- 
+facture is ever likdy to be the produce of England. The seat of 
+such manufactures, as they are generally introduced bythescheme 
+and project of a few individuals, is somdimes established in a 
+maritimecity, and somdimesin an inland town, according as thdr 
+interest, judgment, or caprice, happen to ddermine. 
+
+At other times, manufactures for distant salegrow up naturally, 
+and as it were of thdr own accord, by the gradual refinement of 
+those household and coarser manufactures which must at all times 
+becarried on even in thepoorestand rudest countries. Such manu- 
+factures are generally employed upon thematerialswhich thecoun- 
+try produces, and they seem frequently to have been first refined 
+and improved In such inland countries as were not, indeed, at a 
+very great, but at a considerable distance from the sea-coast, and 
+somdimes even from all water carriage. An inland country, natu- 
+rally fertile and easily cultivated, produces a great surplus of pro- 
+
+
+
+328 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+visions beyond what is necessary for maintaining the cultivators; 
+and on account of theexpenseof land carriage, and inconveniency 
+of river navigation, it may frequently be difficult to send this sur- 
+plusabroad. Abundance, therefore, renders provisionscheap, and 
+encourages a great number of workmen to settle in the 
+neighbourhood, who find that their industry can there procure 
+them more of the necessaries and conveniences of life than in 
+other places. They work up the materials of manufacture which 
+the land produces, and exchange their finished work, or, what is 
+the same thing, the price of it, for more materials and provisions. 
+T hey give a new value to the surplus part of the rude produce, by 
+saving the expense of carrying it to the water-side, or to some 
+distant market; and they furnish thecultivatorswith something in 
+exchange for it that is either useful or agreeable to them, upon 
+easier terms than they could have obtained it before. The cultiva- 
+tors get a better price for their surplus produce, andean purchase 
+cheaper other conveniences which they have occasion for. They 
+are thus both encouraged and enabled to increase this surplus pro- 
+duce by a further improvement and better cultivation of theland; 
+an das the fertility of sheland had given birth to the manufacture, 
+so the progress of the manufacture reacts upon the land, and in- 
+creases still further it's fertility. The manufacturers first supply the 
+neighbourhood, and afterwards, as their work improves and re 
+
+
+
+fines, moredistant markets. For though neither the rude produce, 
+nor even the coarse manufacture, could, without the greatest dif- 
+ficulty, support the expense of a considerable land-carriage, the 
+refined and improved manufacture easily may. In a small bulk it 
+frequently contains the price of a great quantity of rude produce. 
+A pieceof finecloth, for examplewhich weighsonly eighty pounds, 
+containsin ittheprice, not only of eighty pounds weight of wool, 
+but sometimes of several thousand weight of corn, the mainte- 
+nance of the different working people, and of their immediate 
+employers. The corn which could with difficulty have been car- 
+ried abroad in its own shape, is in this manner virtually exported 
+in that of thecomplete manufacture, and may easily besenttothe 
+remotest corners of the world. In thismannerhavegrown up natu- 
+rally, and, as it were, of their own accord, the manufactures of 
+Leeds, H alifax, Sheffield, Birmingham, and Wolverhampton. Such 
+manufactures are theoffspring of agriculture. In themodern his- 
+tory of Europe, their extension and improvement have generally 
+been posterior to those which were the offspring of foreign com- 
+merce. England wasnoted for the manufacture of fineclothsmade 
+of Spanish wool, more than a century before any of those which 
+now flourish in the places above mentioned were fit for foreign 
+sale. The extension and improvement of these last could not take 
+place but in consequence of the extension and improvement of 
+
+
+
+329 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+agriculture, the last and greatest effect of foreign commerce, and C H APT E R I V 
+
+of the manufactures immediately introduced by it, and which I 
+
+shall now proceed to explain. HOW THE COMMERCE OF TOWNS 
+
+CONTRIBUTED TO THE IMPROVE- 
+MENT OFTHECOUNTRY 
+
+The increase and riches of commercial and manufacturing towns 
+contributed to the improvement and cultivation of the countries 
+to which they belonged, in three different ways: 
+
+First, by affording a great and ready market for the rude pro- 
+duce of the country, they gave encouragement to its cultivation 
+and further improvement. This benefit was not even confined to 
+thecountriesin which they were situated, but extended moreor 
+less to all those with which they had any dealings. To all of them 
+they afforded a market for somepart either of their rudeor manu- 
+factured produce, and, consequently, gave some encouragement 
+to the industry and improvement of all. Their own country, how- 
+ever, on account of its neighbourhood, necessarily derived the 
+greatest benefit from this market. I ts rude produce bei ng charged 
+with less carriage, the traders could pay thegrowersa better price 
+for it, and yet afford it as cheap to the consumers as that of more 
+distant countries. 
+
+Secondly, the wealth acquired by the inhabitants of cities was 
+
+330 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+frequently employed in purchasing such lands as were to be sold, 
+of which a great part would frequently be uncultivated. Merchants 
+are commonly ambitious of becoming country gentlemen, and, 
+when they do, they are generally the best of all improvers A mer- 
+chant is accustomed to employ his money chiefly in profitable 
+projects; whereas a mere country gentleman is accustomed to 
+employ it chiefly in expense. The one often sees his money go 
+from him, and return to him again with a profit; the other, when 
+once he parts with it, very seldom expects to see any more of it. 
+Those different habits naturally affect their temper and disposi- 
+tion in every sort of business.Themerchantiscommonlyabold, 
+a country gentleman a timid undertaker. The one is not afraid to 
+lay out at once a large capital upon the improvement of his land, 
+when he has a probable prospect of raising the value of it in pro- 
+portion to the expense; the other, if he has any capital, which is 
+not always the case, seldom ventures to employ it in this manner. 
+If he improves at all, it is commonly not with a capital, but with 
+what he can save out or his annual revenue. Whoever has had the 
+fortune to live in a mercantile town, situated in an unimproved 
+country, must have frequently observed how much more spirited 
+the operations of merchants were in this way, than those of mere 
+country gentlemen. The habits, besides, of order, economy, and 
+attention, to which mercantile business naturally forms a mer- 
+
+
+
+chant, render him much fitter to execute, with profit and success, 
+any project of improvement. 
+
+Thirdly, and lastly, commerce and manufactures gradually in- 
+troduced order and good government, and with them the liberty 
+and security of individuals, among the inhabitants of the country, 
+who had beforelived almost in a continual state of war with their 
+neighbours, and of servile dependency upon their superiors. This, 
+though it has been the least observed, is by far the most i mportant 
+of all their effects. M r H ume is the only writer who, so far as I 
+know, has hitherto taken notice of it. 
+
+I n a country which has neither foreign commerce nor any of the 
+finer manufactures, a great proprietor, having nothing for which 
+hecan exchange thegreater part of theproduceof hislands which 
+is over and above the maintenance of the cultivators, consumes 
+the whole in rustic hospitality at home. If this surplus produce is 
+sufficientto maintain a hundred or athousand men, hecan make 
+use of it in no other way than by maintaining a hundred or a 
+thousand men. H e is at all times, therefore, surrounded with a 
+multitude of retainers and dependants, who, having no equiva- 
+lent to give in return for their maintenance, but being fed entirely 
+by his bounty, must obey him, for the same reason that soldiers 
+must obey theprince who pays them. Before theextension of com- 
+merce an dm an ufactu res in Europe, the hospitality of therich and 
+
+
+
+331 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+thegreat,fromthesovereign down to thesmallest baron, exceeded 
+everything which, in the present times, we can easily form a no- 
+tion of Westminster-hall was the dining-room of William Rufus, 
+and might frequently, perhaps, not be too large for his company. 
+It was reckoned a piece of magnificence in Thomas Becket, that 
+he strewed the floor of his hall with clean hay or rushes in the 
+season, in order that the knights and squires, who could not get 
+seats, might not spoil their fineclothes when they sat down on the 
+floor to eat their dinner. T he great Earl of Warwick is said to have 
+entertained everyday, at hisdifferent manors, 30,000 people; and 
+though thenumberhere may have been exaggerated, itmust, how- 
+ever, have been very great to admit of such exaggeration. A hospi- 
+tality nearly of the same kind was exercised not many years ago in 
+many different parts of the H ighlands of Scotland. It seems to be 
+common in all nationsto whom commerce and manufactures are 
+little known. I have seen, says Doctor Pocock, an Arabian chief 
+dine in the streets of a town where he had come to sell his cattle, 
+and invite all passengers, even common beggars, to sit down with 
+him and partake of his banquet. 
+
+T he occupiers of land were in every respect as dependent upon 
+thegreat proprietor ashis retainers. Even such of them aswerenot 
+in a state of vi 1 1 an age, were tenants at will, who paid a rent in no 
+respect equivalent to thesubsistence which theland afforded them. 
+
+
+
+A crown, half a crown, a sheep, a lamb, was some years ago, in the 
+H ighlands of Scotland, a common rent for lands which main- 
+tained a family. In some places it is so at this day; nor will money 
+at present purchase a greater quantity of commodities there than 
+in other places. In a country where thesurplusproduceof a large 
+estate must be consumed upon the estate itself, it will frequently 
+bemoreconvenientfortheproprietor, that part of it be consumed 
+at a distance from his own house, provided they who consume it 
+are as dependent upon him as either his retainers or his menial 
+servants. H e is thereby saved from the embarrassment of either 
+too large a company, or too large a family. A tenant at will, who 
+possessesland sufficient to maintain hisfamily for littlemore than 
+a quit-rent, is as dependent upon the proprietor as any servant or 
+retainer whatever, and must obey him with as little reserve. Such a 
+proprietor, as he feeds his servants and retainers at hi sown house, 
+so he feeds his tenants at their houses. The subsistence of both is 
+derived from his bounty, and its continuance depends upon his 
+good pleasure. 
+
+U pon theauthority which thegreat proprietorsnecessarily had, 
+in such a state of things, over their tenants and retainers, was 
+founded the power of the ancient barons. They necessarily be- 
+came thejudgesin peace, and theleadersin war, of all who dwelt 
+upon their estates. They could maintain order, and execute the 
+
+
+
+332 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+law, within their respective demesnes, because each of them could 
+there turn the whole force of all the inhabitants against theinjus- 
+tice of anyone. No other person had sufficient authority to do 
+this. The king, in particular, had not. In those ancient times, he 
+was little more than the greatest proprietor in his dominions, to 
+whom, for the sake of common defence against their common 
+enemies, the other great proprietors paid certain respects. To have 
+enforced payment of a small debt within the lands of a great pro- 
+prietor, where all the inhabitants were armed, and accustomed to 
+stand byoneanother, would havecost the king, had heattempted 
+it by his own authority, almost the same effort as to extinguish a 
+civil war. H e was, therefore, obliged to abandon the administra- 
+tion of justice, through the greater part of the country, to those 
+who were capableof administering it; and, for thesame reason, to 
+leave the command of the country militia to those whom that 
+militia would obey. 
+
+It isa mistaketo imaginethat those territorial jurisdictions took 
+their origin from the feudal law. N ot only the highest jurisdic- 
+tions, both civil and criminal, but the power of levying troops, of 
+coining money, and even that of making bye-laws for the govern- 
+ment of their own people, were all rights possessed allodially by 
+thegreat proprietorsof land, several centuries beforeeven thename 
+of the feudal law was known in Europe. The authority and juris- 
+
+
+
+diction of theSaxon lordsin England appear to have been as great 
+before the C onquest as that of any of the N orman lords after it. 
+But the feudal law is not supposed to have become the common 
+law of England till after the Conquest. That the most extensive 
+authority and jurisdictions were possessed by the great lords in 
+France allodially, long before the feudal law was introduced into 
+that country, is a matter of fact that admits of no doubt. That 
+authority, and those jurisdictions, all necessarily flowed from the 
+state of property and manners just now described. Without re- 
+mounting to the remote antiquities of either the French or En- 
+glish monarchies, we may find, in much later times, many proofs 
+that such effects must always flow from such causes. 1 1 isnot thirty 
+years ago since M r Cameron of Lochiel, a gentleman of Lochaber 
+in Scotland, without any legal warrant whatever, not being what 
+was then called a lord of regality, nor even a tenant in chief, but a 
+vassal of the Duke of Argyll, and with out being so much as a 
+justice of peace, used, notwithstanding, to exercise the highest 
+criminal jurisdictions over hisown people. H eissaid to havedone 
+so with great equity, though without any of theformalities of jus- 
+tice; and it is not improbable that the state of that part of the 
+country at that time made it necessary for him to assume this 
+authority, in order to maintain the public peace. That gentleman, 
+whose rent never exceeded £500 a-year, carried, in 1745, 800 of 
+
+
+
+333 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+hisown people into the rebellion with him. 
+
+The introduction of thefeudal law, so far from extending, may 
+be regarded as an attempt to moderate, the authority of the great 
+allodial lords. It established a regular subordination, accompanied 
+with a long train of services and duties, from theking down to the 
+smallest proprietor. During the minority of the proprietor, the 
+rent, together with the management of his lands, fell into the hands 
+of his immediate superior; and, consequently, those of all great 
+proprietors into the hands of the king, who was charged with the 
+maintenance and education of the pupil, and who, from his au- 
+thority as guardian, was supposed to have a right of disposing of 
+him in marriage, provided it was in a manner not unsuitable to 
+his rank. But though this institution necessarily tended to 
+strengthen the authority of the king, and to weaken that of the 
+great proprietors, it could not do either sufficiently for establish- 
+ing order and good government amongtheinhabitantsofthecoun- 
+try; because it could not alter sufficiently that state of property 
+and manners from which the disorders arose. The authority of 
+government still continued to be, as before, too weak in the head, 
+and too strong in theinferior members; and the excessive strength 
+of the inferior members was thecauseof the weaknessof the head. 
+After the institution of feudal subordination, theking was asinca- 
+pableof restraining the violence of the great lords as before. They 
+
+
+
+still continued to make war according to their own discretion, 
+almost continually upon one another, and very frequently upon 
+the king; and the open country still continued to be a scene of 
+violence, rapine, and disorder. 
+
+But what all the violence of thefeudal institutions could never 
+have effected, the silent and insensible operation of foreign com- 
+merce and manufactures gradually brought about. T hese gradu- 
+ally furnished thegreat proprietors with something for which they 
+could exchange thewholesurplusproduceof their lands, and which 
+they could consume themselves, without sharing it either with 
+tenants or retainers. All for ourselves, and nothing for other people, 
+seems, in every age of the world, to have been the vile maxim of 
+the masters of mankind. As soon, therefore, as they could find a 
+method of consuming the whole value of their rents themselves, 
+they had no disposition to share them with any other persons. For 
+a pair of diamond buckles, perhaps, or for something as frivolous 
+and useless, they exchanged the maintenance, or, whatisthesame 
+thing, the price of the maintenance of 1000 men for a year, and 
+with it the whole weight and authority which it could give them. 
+Thebuckles, however, were to be all their own, and no other hu- 
+man creaturewasto have any share of them; whereas, in themore 
+ancient method of expense, they must have shared with at least 
+1000 people. With the judges that were to determine the prefer- 
+
+
+
+334 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+ence, this difference was perfectly decisive; and thus, for the gratifi- 
+cation of the most childish, the meanest, and the most sordid of all 
+vanities they gradually bartered their whole power and authority. 
+
+I n a country where thereis no foreign commerce, nor any of the 
+finer manufactures, a man of £10,000 a-year cannot well employ 
+his revenue in any other way than in maintaining, perhaps, 1000 
+families, who are all of them necessarily at his command. In the 
+present state of Europe, a man of £10,000 a-year can spend his 
+whole revenue, and he generally does so, without directly main- 
+taining twenty people, or being able to command more than ten 
+footmen, not worth thecommanding. Indirectly, perhaps, hemain- 
+tains as great, or even a greater number of people, than he could 
+havedonebytheancient method of expense. For though thequan- 
+tity of precious productions for which he exchanges his whole 
+revenue be very small, the number of workmen employed in col- 
+lecting and preparing it must necessarily have been very great. Its 
+great price generally arises from the wages of their labour, and the 
+profits of all their immediate employers. By paying that price, he 
+indirectly pays all thosewages and profits, and thusindirectly con- 
+tributes to the maintenanceof all the workmen and their employ- 
+ers. H e generally contributes, however, but a very small propor- 
+tion to that of each; to a very few, perhaps, not a tenth, to many 
+not a hundredth, and to some not a thousandth, or even a ten 
+
+
+
+thousandth part of their whole annual maintenance. Though he 
+contributes, therefore, to the maintenance of them all, they are all 
+moreorlessindependentof him, because generallythey can all be 
+maintained without him. 
+
+W hen the great proprietors of land spend their rents in main- 
+taining their tenants and retainers, each of them maintains en- 
+tirdyall hisown tenants and all hisown retainers. But when they 
+spend them in maintaining tradesmen and artificers, they may, all 
+of them taken together, perhaps maintain as great, or, on account 
+of the waste which attends rustic hospitality, a greater number of 
+people than before. Each of them, however, taken singly, contrib- 
+utes often but a very small share to the maintenance of any indi- 
+vidual of this greater number. Each tradesman or artificer derives 
+his subsistence from the employment, not of one, but of a hun- 
+dred or a thousand different customers. Though in some measure 
+obliged to them all, therefore, heisnot absolutdy dependent upon 
+any one of them. 
+
+Thepersonalexpenseofthegreatproprietorshavinginthisman- 
+ner gradually increased, it wasimpossiblethat the number of their 
+retainers should not as gradually diminish, till they were at last 
+dismissed altogether. The same cause gradually led them to dis- 
+miss the unnecessary part of thar tenants. Farms were enlarged, 
+and the occupiers of land, notwithstanding the complaints of de- 
+
+
+
+335 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+population, reduced to the number necessary for cultivating it, 
+according to the imperfect state of cultivation and improvement 
+in those times. Bythe removal of the unnecessary mouths, and by 
+exacting from the farmer the full value of the farm, a greater sur- 
+plus, or, whatisthesamething, the price of a greater surplus, was 
+obtained for the proprietor, which the merchants and manufac- 
+turers soon furnished him with a method of spending upon his 
+own person, in the same manner as he had done the rest. The 
+causecontinuing to operate, hewasdesirousto raisehisrents above 
+what his lands, in the actual state of their improvement, could 
+afford. H is tenants could agree to this upon one condition only, 
+that they should be secured in their possession for such a term of 
+years as might give them time to recover, with profit, whatever 
+they should lay not in the further improvement of the land. The 
+expensive vanity of the landlord made him willing to accept of 
+thiscondition; and hence the origin of long leases. 
+
+Even a tenant at will, who pays the full value of the land, isnot 
+altogether dependent upon the landlord. The pecuniary advan- 
+tages which they receive from one another are mutual and equal, 
+and such atenant will exposeneither hislifenor hisfortunein the 
+service of the proprietor. But if he has a lease for along term of 
+years, he is altogether independent; and his landlord must not 
+expect from him even the most trifling service, beyond what is 
+
+
+
+either expressly stipulated in the lease, or imposed upon him by 
+the common and known law of the country. 
+
+The tenants having in this manner become independent, and 
+the retainers being dismissed, thegreatproprietorswereno longer 
+capable of interrupting the regular execution of justice, or of dis- 
+turbing the peace of the country. H aving sold their birth-right, 
+not like Esau, for a mess of pottage in time of hunger and neces- 
+sity, but, in the wantonness of plenty, for trinkets and baubles, 
+fitter to be theplaythings of children than the serious pursuits of 
+men, they became as insignificant as any substantial burgher or 
+tradesmen in a city. A regular government was established in the 
+country as well as in the city, nobody having sufficient power to 
+disturb itsoperations in the one, any more than in the other. 
+
+It does not, perhaps, relate to the present subject, but I cannot 
+help remarking it, that very old families, such as have possessed 
+some considerable estate from father to son for many successive 
+generations, are very rare in commercial countries. In countries 
+which havelittlecommerce, on thecontrary, such asWales, or the 
+H ighlands of Scotland, they are very common. T he Arabian his- 
+tories seem to be all full of genealogies; and there is a history writ- 
+ten by aTartar Khan, which has been translated into several Euro- 
+pean languages, and which contains scarce any thing else; a proof 
+that ancient families are very common among those nations. In 
+
+
+
+336 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+countries where a rich man can spend his revenue in no other way 
+than by maintaining as many peopleas it can maintain, heisapt to 
+run out, and his benevolence, it seems, is seldom so violent as to 
+attempt to maintain more than he can afford. But where he can 
+spend the greatest revenue upon hisown person, he frequently has 
+no bounds to his expense, because he frequently has no bounds to 
+his vanity, or to his affection for his own person. In commercial 
+countries, therefore, riches, in spite of the most violent regulations 
+of law to prevent their dissipation, very seldom remain long in the 
+samefamily. Among simplenations, on thecontrary, they frequently 
+do, without any regulationsof law; for among nationsof shepherds, 
+such astheTartarsand Arabs, theconsumablenatureof their prop- 
+erty necessarily renders all such regulations impossible. 
+
+A revolution of thegreatestimportancetothepublichappiness, 
+wasin thismanner brought about by two different ordersof people, 
+who had not the least intention to serve the public. To gratify the 
+most childish vanity was the sole motive of thegreat proprietors. 
+The merchants and artificers, much less ridiculous, acted merely 
+from a view to their own interest, and in pursuit of their own 
+pedlar principle of turning a penny wherever a penny was to be 
+got. N either of them had either knowledge or foresight of that 
+great revolution which the folly of theone, and the industry of the 
+other, was gradually bringing about. 
+
+
+
+It was thus, that, through the greater part of Europe, the com- 
+merce and manufactures of cities, instead of being the effect, have 
+been the cause and occasion of the improvement and cultivation 
+of the country. 
+
+This order, however, being contrary to the natural course of 
+things, is necessarily both slow and uncertain. Compare the slow 
+progressof thoseEuropean countriesof which thewealth depends 
+very much upon their commerce and manufactures, with therapid 
+advances of our North American colonies, of which thewealth is 
+founded altogether in agriculture. Through the greater part of 
+Europe, the number of inhabitants is not supposed to double in 
+less than five hundred years. In several of our North American 
+colonies, it isfound to double in twenty or five- and -twenty years. 
+In Europe, thelaw of primogeniture, and perpetuities of different 
+kinds, prevent thedivision of great estates, and thereby hinder the 
+multiplication of small proprietors. A small proprietor, however, 
+who knows every part of his little territory, views it with all the 
+affection which property, especially small property, naturally in- 
+spires, and who upon that account takes pleasure, not only in 
+cultivating, but in adorning it, is generally of all improvers the 
+most industrious, the most intelligent, and the most successful. 
+Thesame regulations, besides, keep so much land out of the mar- 
+ket, that there are always mo re capitals to buy than thereisland to 
+
+
+
+337 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+sell, so that what issold always sellsat a monopoly price.Therent 
+never pays the interest of the purchase-money and is, besides, 
+burdened with repairs and other occasional charges, to which the 
+interest of money is not liable. To purchase land, is, everywhere in 
+Europe, a most unprofitable employment of a small capital. For 
+the sake of the superior security, indeed, a man of moderate cir- 
+cumstances, when hereti res from business, will sometimes choose 
+to layout his littlecapital in land. A man of profession, too whose 
+revenue is derived from another source often loves to secure his 
+savingsin the same way. Butayoungman, who, instead of apply- 
+ing to trade or to some profession, should employ a capital of two 
+or three thousand pounds in the purchase and cultivation of a 
+small piece of land, might indeed expect to live very happily and 
+very independently, but must bid adieu for ever to all hope of 
+either great fortune or great illustration, which, by a different 
+employment of his stock, he might have had the same chance of 
+acquiring with other people. Such a person, too, though he can- 
+not aspire at being a proprietor, will often disdain to be a farmer. 
+Thesmall quantity of land, therefore, which isbrought to market, 
+and the high price of what is brought thither, prevents a great 
+number of capitals from being employed in its cultivation and 
+improvement, which would otherwise have taken that direction. 
+I n N orth America, on the contrary, fifty or sixty pounds is often 
+
+
+
+found a sufficient stock to begin a plantation with. The purchase 
+and improvement of uncultivated land is there the most profit- 
+able employment of the smallest as well as of the greatest capitals, 
+and the most direct road to all thefortuneand illustration which 
+can be required in that country. Such land, indeed, is in North 
+America to be had almost for nothing, or at a price much below 
+thevalueof the natural produce; a thing impossible in Europe, or 
+indeed in any country where all landshavelong been private prop- 
+erty. If landed estates, however, were divided equally among all 
+thechildren, upon the death of any proprietor who left a numer- 
+ousfamily, the estate would generally be sold. So much land would 
+come to market, that it could no longer sell at a monopoly price. 
+Thefreerent of theland would go no nearer to pay the interest of 
+the purchase-money and a small capital might be employed in 
+purchasing land as profitable as in any other way. 
+
+England, on account of the natural fertility of the soil, of the 
+great extent of the sea-coast in proportion to that of the whole 
+country, and of the many navigable rivers which run through it, 
+and afford the conveniency of water carriage to some of the most 
+inland parts of it, is perhaps as well fitted by nature as any large 
+country in Europe to be the seat of foreign commerce, of manu- 
+factures for distant sale, and of all the improvements which these 
+can occasion. From the beginning of the reign of Elizabeth, too, 
+
+
+
+338 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+the English legislature has been peculiarly attentive to theinterest 
+of commerce and manufactures, and in reality thereisno country 
+in Europe, Holland itself not excepted, of which the law is, upon 
+the whole, more favourable to this sort of industry. Commerce 
+and manufactures have accordingly been continually advancing 
+during all this period. The cultivation and improvement of the 
+country has, no doubt, been gradually advancing too; but it seems 
+to have followed slowly, and at a distance, the more rapid progress 
+of commerce and manufactures. T he greater part of the country 
+must probably have been cultivated before the reign of Elizabeth; 
+and a very great part of it still remains uncultivated, and theculti- 
+vation of the far greater part much inferior to what it might be, 
+The law of England, however, favours agriculture, not only indi- 
+rectly, by the protection of commerce, but by several direct en- 
+couragements. Except in times of scarcity, theexportation of corn 
+isnot only free, but encouraged by a bounty. I n times of moderate 
+plenty, the importation of foreign corn is loaded with duties that 
+amount to a prohibition. The importation of live cattle, except 
+from Ireland, isprohibited at all times; and itisbutof late that it 
+was permitted from thence. T hose who cultivate the land, there 
+fore, haveamonopoly against their countrymen for thetwo greatest 
+and most important articles of land produce, bread and butcher's 
+meat. These encouragements, although at bottom, perhaps, as I 
+
+
+
+shall endeavour to show hereafter, altogether illusory, sufficiently 
+demonstrate at least the good intention of the legislature to favour 
+agriculture. But what isof much more importance than all of them, 
+theyeomanry of England are rendered as secure, as independent, 
+and as respectable, as law can make them. N o country, therefore, 
+which the right of primogeniture takes place, which pays tithes, 
+and where perpetuities, though contrary to the spirit of the law, 
+are admitted in some cases, can give more encouragement to agri- 
+culture than England. Such, however, notwithstanding, isthestate 
+of its cultivation. What would it have been, had the law given no 
+direct encouragement to agriculture besides what arises indirectly 
+from the progress of commerce, and had left theyeomanry in the 
+same condition as in most other countries of Europe? It is now 
+more than two hundred years since the beginning of the reign of 
+Elizabeth, a period aslong asthecourseof human prosperity usu- 
+ally endures. 
+
+France seems to have had a considerable share of foreign com- 
+merce, near a century before England was distinguished as a com- 
+mercial country. The marine of France was considerable, according 
+to thenotionsof thetimes, before theexpedition of C harlesV 1 1 1 . to 
+N aples. The cultivation and improvement of France, however, is 
+upon the whole, inferior to that of England. Thelaw of thecountry 
+has never given the same direct encouragement to agriculture. 
+
+
+
+339 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+The foreign commerce of Spain and Portual to the other parts 
+of Europe, though chiefly carried on in foreign ships, is very con- 
+siderable. That to their colonies is carried on in their own, and is 
+much greater, on account of the great riches and extent of those 
+colonies. But it has never introduced any considerable manufac- 
+tures for distant sale into either of those countries, and the greater 
+part of both still remains uncultivated. The foreign commerce of 
+Portugal is of older standing than that of any great country in 
+Europe, except Italy. 
+
+Italy is the only great country of Europe which seems to have 
+been cultivated and improved in every part, by means of foreign 
+commerce and manufactures for distant sale. Before the invasion 
+of Charles VI 1 1., Italy, according to Guicciardini, was cultivated 
+notlessin the most mountainousand barren parts of the country, 
+than in the plainest and most fertile. The advantageous situation 
+ofthecountry, and thegreat number of independent status which 
+at that time subsisted in it, probably contributed not a littleto this 
+general cultivation. It isnot impossible, too, notwithstanding this 
+general expression of one of the most judicious and reserved of 
+modern historians, that Italy was not at that time better cultivated 
+than England is at present. 
+
+The capital, however, that is acquired to any country by com- 
+merce and manufactures, is always a very precarious and uncer- 
+
+
+
+tain possession, till some part of it has been secured and realized 
+in the cultivation and improvement of its lands. A merchant, it 
+has been said very properly, is not necessarily the citizen of any 
+particular country. Itisin agreatmeasureindifferentto him from 
+what place he carries on his trade; and a very trifling disgust will 
+make him remove his capital, and, together with it, all the indus- 
+try which it supports, from one country to another. N o part of it 
+can be said to belong to any particular country, till it has been 
+spread, asitwere, over theface of that country, either in buildings, 
+or in the lasting improvement of lands. N o vestige now remainsof 
+thegreat wealth said to have been possessed by the greater part of 
+theH anseTowns, except in theobscurehistoriesof thethirteenth 
+and fourteenth centuries. 1 1 i s even uncertain where someof them 
+were situated, or to what towns in Europe the Latin names given 
+to some of them belong. But though the misfortunes of Italy, in 
+theend of the fifteenth and beginning of the sixteenth centuries, 
+greatly diminished the commerce and manufactures of the cities 
+of Lombardy and Tuscany, those countries still continue to be 
+among the most populous and best cultivated in Europe. Thecivil 
+wars of Flanders, and the Spanish government which succeeded 
+them, chased away thegreat commerce of Antwerp, Ghent, and 
+Bruges. But Flanders still continues to be one of the richest, best 
+cultivated, and most populous provincesof Europe. Theordinary 
+
+
+
+340 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+revolutions of war and government easily dry up the sources of 
+that wealth which arises from commerce only. T hat which arises 
+from the more solid improvements of agriculture is much more 
+durable, and cannot be destroyed but by those more violent con- 
+vulsions occasioned by the depredations of hostile and barbarous 
+nations continued for a century or two together; such as those 
+that happened for some time before and after the fall of the Ro- 
+man empire in the western provinces of Europe. 
+
+
+
+BOOK IV 
+
+OF SYSTEMSOF POLITICAL ECONOMY 
+
+Political economy, considered asa branch of thescience 
+of a statesman or legislator, proposes two distinct objects; 
+first, to provide a plentiful revenue or subsistence for the 
+people, or, more properly, to enable them to provide such a rev- 
+enue or subsistence for themselves; and, secondly, to supply the 
+state or commonwealth with a revenue sufficient for the public 
+services. It proposes to enrich both thepeopleand the sovereign. 
+Thedifferent progress of opulencein different ages and nations, 
+has given occasion to two different systems of political economy, 
+with regard to enriching the people. The one may be called the 
+system of commerce, the other that of agriculture. I shall endeav- 
+our to explain both as fully and distinctly as I can, and shall begin 
+with the system of commerce. Itisthemodern system, and isbest 
+understood in our own country and in our own times. 
+
+
+
+341 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I 
+
+OF THE PRINCIPLE OF THE COMMER- 
+CIAL OR M ERCANTILE SYSTEM 
+
+That wealth consistsin money, or in gold and silver, isa popular 
+notion which naturally arises from thedoublefunction of money, 
+as the instrument of commerce, and as the measure of value. I n 
+consequence of its being the instrument of commerce, when we 
+have money we can more readily obtain whatever else we have 
+occasion for, than by means of any other commodity. T he great 
+affair, we always find, is to get money. When that is obtained, 
+there is no difficulty in making any subsequent purchase. In con- 
+sequence of its being the measure of value, we estimate that of all 
+other commodities by the quantity of money which they will ex- 
+changefor. Wesay of a rich man, that heisworth a great deal, and 
+of a poor man, that he is worth very little money. A frugal man, or 
+a man eager to be rich, is said to love money; and a careless, a 
+generous, or a profuse man, is said to be indifferent about it. To 
+grow rich isto get money; and wealth and money, in short, are, in 
+common language, considered asin every respect synonymous. 
+
+A rich country, in the same manner as a rich man, is supposed 
+to be a country abounding in money; and to heap up gold and 
+
+
+
+silver in any country is supposed to be the readiest way to en rich 
+it. For some time after thediscovery of America, thefirst inquiry 
+of the Spaniards, when they arrived upon any unknown coast, 
+used to be, if there was any gold or silver to be found in the 
+neighbourhood? By the information which they received, they 
+judged whether it was worth while to make a settlement there, or 
+if the country was worth the conquering. Piano Carpino, a monk 
+sent ambassador from the king of France to one of the sons of the 
+famousGengisKhan, says, that theTartars used frequently to ask 
+him, if there was plenty of sheep and oxen in the kingdom of 
+France?T heir inquiry had the same object with that of the Span- 
+iards. T hey wanted to know if the country was rich enough to be 
+worth the conquering. Among theTartars, as among all other na- 
+tionsof shepherds, who are generally ignorant of theuse of money, 
+cattleare the instruments of commerce and the measuresof value. 
+Wealth, therefore, according to them, consisted in cattle, as, ac- 
+cording to the Spaniards, it consisted in gold and silver. Of the 
+two, theTartar notion, perhaps, was the nearest to the truth. 
+
+M r Locke rem arks a distinction between money and other move- 
+able goods. All other moveable goods, he says, are of so consum- 
+able a nature, that the wealth which consists in them cannot be 
+much depended on; and a nation which abounds in them one 
+year may, without any exportation, but merely by their own waste 
+
+
+
+342 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+and extravagance, be in great want of them the next. M oney, on 
+thecontrary, isa steady friend, which, though it may travel about 
+from hand to hand, yet if it can be kept from going out of the 
+country, isnot very liable to bewasted and consumed. Gold and 
+silver, therefore, are, according to him, the must solid and sub- 
+stantial part of the moveable wealth of a nation; and to multiply 
+those metals ought, he thinks, upon that account, to be the great 
+object of its political economy. 
+
+Others admit, that if a nation could be separated from all the 
+world, it would be of no consequence how much or how little 
+money circulated in it. The consumable goods, which were circu- 
+lated by means of this money, would only be exchanged for a 
+greater or a smaller number of pieces; but the real wealth or pov- 
+erty of thecountry, they allow, would depend altogether upon the 
+abundance or scarcity of those consumable goods. But it is other- 
+wise, they think, with countries which haveconnectionswith for- 
+eign nations, and which are obliged to carry on foreign wars, and 
+to maintain fleets and armies in distant countries. This, they say, 
+cannot bedone, but by sending abroad money to pay them with; 
+and a nation cannot send much money abroad, unless it has a 
+good deal at home. Every such nation, therefore, must endeavour, 
+in time of peace, to accumulate gold and silver, that when occa- 
+sion requires, it may have wherewithal to carry on foreign wars. 
+
+
+
+I n consequence of those popular notions, all the different na- 
+tions of Europe have studied, though to little purpose, every pos- 
+sible means of accumulating gold and silver in their respective 
+countries. Spain and Portugal, theproprietorsof theprincipal mines 
+which supply Europe with those metals, have either prohibited 
+their exportation under the severest penalties, or subjected it to a 
+considerable duty. The like prohibition seems anciently to have 
+made a part of the policy of most other European nations. It is 
+even to be found, where we should least of all expect to find it, in 
+some old Scotch acts of Parliament, which forbid, under heavy 
+penalties, the carrying gold or silver forth of the kingdom. The 
+like policy anciently took place both in France and England. 
+
+W hen thosecountriesbecamecommercial, themerchantsfound 
+this prohibition, upon many occasions, extremely inconvenient. 
+They could frequently buy more advantageously with gold and 
+silver, than with any other commodity, the foreign goods which 
+they wanted, either to import into their own, or to carry to some 
+other foreign country. They remonstrated, therefore, against this 
+prohibition as hurtful to trade. 
+
+T hey represented, first, that the exportation of gold and silver, 
+in order to purchase foreign goods, did not always diminish the 
+quantity of those metals in the kingdom; that, on thecontrary, it 
+might frequently increase the quantity; because, if theconsump- 
+
+
+
+343 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+tion of foreign goods was not thereby increased in the country, 
+those goods might be re-exported to foreign countries, and being 
+there sold for a large profit, might bring back much more treasure 
+than wasoriginally sent out to purchase them. M rM un compares 
+this operation of foreign trade to the seed-time and harvest of 
+agriculture. "If we only behold," says he, "the actions of the hus- 
+bandman in theseed time, when hecasteth away much good corn 
+into the ground, we shall account him rather a madman than a 
+husbandman. But when we consider his labours in the harvest, 
+which is the end of his endeavours, we shall find the worth and 
+plentiful increase of his actions." 
+
+They represented, secondly, that this prohibition could not 
+hinder the exportation of gold and silver, which, on account of 
+the smallness of their bulk in proportion to their value, could 
+easily be smuggled abroad. That this exportation could only be 
+prevented by a proper attention to what they called the balance of 
+trade. T hat when the country exported to a greater value than it 
+imported, a balance became due to it from foreign nations, which 
+was necessarily paid to it in gold and silver, and thereby increased 
+the quantity of those metals in the kingdom. But that when it 
+imported to a greater value than it exported, a contrary balance 
+becamedueto foreign nations, which was necessarily paid to them 
+in the same manner, and thereby diminished that quantity: that 
+
+
+
+inthiscase, to prohibit the exportation of those metals, could not 
+prevent it, but only, by making it more dangerous, render it more 
+expensive: that the exchange was thereby turned more against the 
+country which owed the balance, than it otherwise might have 
+been; the merchant who purchased a bill upon the foreign coun- 
+try being obliged to pay the banker who sold it, not only for the 
+natural risk, trouble, and expense of sending the money thither, 
+but for the extraordinary risk arising from the prohibition; but 
+that the more the exchange was against any country, the more the 
+balance of trade became necessarily against it; the money of that 
+country becoming necessarily of so much less value, in compari- 
+son with that of thecountry to which the balance was due. That if 
+the exchange between England and Holland, for example, was 
+five per cent, against England, it would require 105 ounces of 
+silver in England to purchase a bill for 100 ounces of silver in 
+Holland: that 105 ounces of silver in England, therefore, would 
+be worth only 100 ounces of silver in H olland, and would pur- 
+chase only a proportionable quantity of Dutch goods; but that 
+100 ounces of silver in Holland, on the contrary, would be worth 
+105 ounces in England, and would purchase a proportionable 
+quantity of English goods; that the English goods which were sold 
+to H olland would be sold so much cheaper, and the D utch goods 
+which were sold to England so much dearer, by the difference of 
+
+
+
+344 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+theexchange: thattheonewould draw so much lessD utch money 
+to England, and the other so much more English money to Hol- 
+land, as this difference amounted to: and that the balance of trade, 
+therefore, would necessarily be so much more against England, 
+and would require a greater balance of gold and silver to be ex- 
+ported to Holland. 
+
+Those arguments were partly solid and partly sophistical. They 
+were solid, so far as they asserted that the exportation of gold and 
+silver in trade might frequently be advantageous to the country. 
+They were solid, too, in asserting that no prohibition could pre- 
+vent their exportation, when private people found any advantage 
+in exporting them. But they were sophistical, in supposing, that 
+either to preserve or to augment the quantity of those metals re 
+quired more the attention of government, than to preserve or to 
+augment thequantity of any other useful commodities, which the 
+freedom of trade, without any such attention, never failsto supply 
+in the proper quantity. They were sophistical, too, perhaps, in 
+assertingth at thehigh price of exchange necessarily increased what 
+they called the unfavourable balance of trade, or occasioned the 
+exportation of a greater quantity of gold and silver. That high 
+price, indeed, was extremely disadvantageous to the merchants 
+who had any money to pay in foreign countries. They paid so 
+much dearer for thebillswhich their bankers granted them upon 
+
+
+
+those countries. But though the risk arising from the prohibition 
+might occasion someextraordinary expense to thebankers, itwould 
+not necessarily carry any more money out of the country. This 
+expense would generally be all laid out in the country, in smug- 
+gling themoney out of it, and could seldom occasion theexporta- 
+tion of a single sixpence beyond the precise sum drawn for. The 
+high priceof exchange, too, would naturallydisposethemerchants 
+to endeavour to make their exports nearly balance their imports, 
+in order that they might have this high exchange to pay upon as 
+small asum as possible. Thehigh price of exchange, besides, must 
+necessarily have operated as a tax, in raising the price of foreign 
+goods, and thereby diminishing their consumption. It would tend, 
+therefore, not to increase, but to diminish, what they called the 
+unfavourable balance of trade, and consequently the exportation 
+of gold and silver. 
+
+Such as they were, however, those arguments convinced the 
+people to whom they were addressed. They were addressed by 
+merchants to parliaments and to thecouncilsof princes, to nobles, 
+and to country gentlemen; by those who were supposed to under- 
+stand trade, to those who were conscious to them selves that they 
+knew nothing about the matter. That foreign trade enriched the 
+country, experiencedemonstrated tothenoblesand country gentle- 
+men, as well as to the merchants; but how, or in what manner, 
+
+
+
+345 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+none of them well knew. The merchants knew perfectly in what 
+manner it enriched themselves, it was their business to know it. 
+But to know in what manner it enriched the country, was no part 
+of their business. T hesubject never cameinto their consideration, 
+but when they had occasion to apply to their country for some 
+changein thelawsrelatingto foreign trade. It then becameneces- 
+sary to say something about the beneficial effects of foreign trade, 
+andthemannerin which those effects were obstructed bythelaws 
+as they then stood. To thejudges who were to decidethe business, 
+it appeared a most satisfactory account of the matter, when they 
+were told that foreign trade brought money into the country, but 
+that the laws in question hindered it from bringing so much as it 
+otherwise would do. Those arguments, therefore, produced the 
+wished-for effect. The prohibition of exporting gold and silver 
+was, in France and England, confined to thecoin of those respec- 
+tive countries. The exportation of foreign coin and of bullion was 
+made free. In Holland, and in some other places, this liberty was 
+extended even to thecoin of thecountry.Theattention of govern- 
+ment was turned away from guarding against the exportation of 
+gold and silver, to watch over the balance of trade, as the only 
+cause which could occasion any augmentation or diminution of 
+those metals. From one fruitless care, it was turned away to an- 
+other care much more intricate, much more embarrassing, and 
+
+
+
+just equally fruitless. Thetitleof Mun's book, England'sTreasure 
+in Foreign Trade, became a fundamental maxim in the political 
+economy, not of England only, but of all other commercial coun- 
+tries. The inland or home trade, the most important of all, the 
+trade in which an equal capital affords the greatest revenue, and 
+creates the greatest employment to the people of the country, was 
+considered as subsidiary only to foreign trade. It neither brought 
+money into thecountry, it was said, nor carried any out of it. T he 
+country, therefore, could never become either richer or poorer by 
+means of it, except so far as its prosperity or decay might indi- 
+rectly influence the state of foreign trade. 
+
+A countrythathasnominesof its own, must undoubtedly draw 
+its gold and silver from foreign countries, in the same manner as 
+one that has no vineyards of its own must draw its wines. It does 
+not seem necessary, however, that the attention of government 
+should be more turned towards the one than towards the other 
+object. A country that has wherewithal to buy wine, will always 
+get the wine which it has occasion for; and a country that has 
+wherewithal to buy gold and silver, will never be in want of those 
+metals. They are to be bought for a certain price, like all other 
+commodities; and as they are the price of all other commodities, 
+so all other commodities are the price of those metals. We trust, 
+with perfect security, that the freedom of trade, without any at- 
+
+
+
+346 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+tention of government, will always supply us with thewinewhich 
+wehaveoccasion for; and wemay trust, with equal security, that it 
+will always supply us with all the gold and silver which we can 
+afford to purchase or to employ, either in circulating our com- 
+modities or in other uses. 
+
+The quantity of every commodity which human industry can 
+ei therpurchaseor produce, naturally regulates itself in every coun- 
+try according to the effectual demand, or according to the de- 
+mand of those who are willing to pay the whole rent, labour, and 
+profits, which must be paid in order to prepare and bring it to 
+market. But no commodities regulate themselves more easily or 
+more exactly, according to this effectual demand, than gold and 
+silver; because, on account of the small bulk and great value of 
+thosemetals, no commodities can bemore easily transported from 
+one place to another; from the places where they are cheap, to 
+those where they are dear; from the places where they exceed, to 
+those where they fall short of this effectual demand. If there were 
+in England, for example, an effectual demand for an additional 
+quantity of gold, a packet-boat could bring from Lisbon, or from 
+wherever else it was to be had, fifty tons of gold, which could be 
+coined into more than five millions of guineas. But if there were 
+an effectual demand for grain tothesamevalue, to import it would 
+require, at five guineas a-ton, a million of tons of shipping, or a 
+
+
+
+thousand ships of a thousand tons each. The navy of England 
+would not be sufficient. 
+
+When the quantity of gold and silver imported into any coun- 
+try exceeds the effectual demand, no vigilance of government can 
+prevent their exportation. All the sanguinary laws of Spain and 
+Portugal are not able to keep their gold and silver at home. The 
+continual importations from Peru and Brazil exceed the effectual 
+demand of those countries, and sink the price of those metals 
+there below that in the neighbouring countries. If, on the con- 
+trary, in any particular country, their quantity fell short of the 
+effectual demand, so as to raise their price above that of the 
+neighbouring countries, thegovernment would have no occasion 
+to take any pains to import them. If it were even totakepainsto 
+prevent their importation, it would not be able to effectuate it. 
+Those metals, when the Spartans had got wherewithal to pur- 
+chase them, broke through all the barriers which the laws of 
+Lycurgus opposed to their entrance into Lacedaemon. All thesan- 
+guinary laws of the customs are not able to prevent the importa- 
+tion of the teas of the Dutch and Gottenburg East India compa- 
+nies; because somewhat cheaper than those of the British com- 
+pany. A pound of tea, however, is about a hundred times the bulk 
+of one of the highest prices, sixteen shillings, that is commonly 
+paid for it in silver, and more than two thousand times thebulk of 
+
+
+
+347 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+thesamepricein gold, and, consequently, just so manytimesmore 
+difficult to smuggle. 
+
+It is partly owing to the easy transportation of gold and silver, 
+from theplaces where they abound to those where they arewanted, 
+that the price of those metals does not fluctuate continually, like 
+that of the greater part of other commodities, which are hindered 
+by their bulk from shifting their situation, when the market hap- 
+pens to be either over or under-stocked with them. T he price of 
+those metals, indeed, is not altogether exempted from variation; 
+but the changes to which it is liable are generally slow, gradual, 
+and uniform. I n Europe, for example, it issupposed, without much 
+foundation, perhaps, that during the course of the present and 
+preceding century, they have been constantly, but gradually, sink- 
+ing in their value, on account of thecontinual importations from 
+the Spanish West Indies. But to make any sudden change in the 
+price of gold and silver, so as to raise or lower at once, sensibly and 
+remarkably, the money price of all other commodities, requires 
+such a revolution in commerce as that occasioned bythediscov- 
+ery of America. 
+
+If, not withstanding all this, gold and silver should at any time 
+fall short in a country which has wherewithal to purchase them, 
+there are more expedients for supplying their place, than that of 
+almost any other commodity. If the materials of manufacture are 
+
+
+
+wanted, industry must stop. If provisions are wanted, the people 
+must starve. But if money is wanted, barter will supply its place, 
+though with a good deal of inconveniency Buying and selling 
+upon credit, and the different dealers compensating their credits 
+with one another, once a-month, or once a-year, will supply it 
+with less inconveniency. A well-regulated paper-money will sup- 
+ply it not only without any inconveniency, but, in some cases, 
+with some advantages. Upon every account, therefore, the atten- 
+tion of government never was so unnecessarily employed, aswhen 
+directed to watch over the preservation or increase of the quantity 
+of money in any country. 
+
+N o complaint, however, is more common than that of a scarcity 
+of money. M oney, like wine, must always be scarce with those 
+who have neither wherewithal to buy it, nor credit to borrow it. 
+Those who have either, will seldom bein want either of the money, 
+or ofthewinewhich they have occasion for. Thiscomplaint, how- 
+ever, of the scarcity of money, is not always confined to improvi- 
+dent spendthrifts. It is sometimes general through a whole mer- 
+cantiletown and the country in its neighbourhood. Over-trading 
+is the common cause of it. Sober men, whose projects have been 
+disproportioned to their capitals, areaslikely to haveneither where- 
+withal to buy money, nor credit to borrow it, as prodigals, whose 
+expense has been disproportioned to their revenue. Before their 
+
+
+
+348 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+projects can be brought to bear, their stock isgone, and their credit 
+with it. T hey run about everywhere to borrow money, and every- 
+body tells them that they have none to lend. Even such general 
+complaints of the scarcity of money do not always prove that the 
+usual number of gold and silver pieces are not circulating in the 
+country, but that many people want those pieces who have noth- 
+ingto giveforthem. W hen the profits of trade happen to begreater 
+than ordinary over-trading becomes a general error, both among 
+great and small dealers. They do not always send more money 
+abroad than usual, but they buy upon credit, both at home and 
+abroad, an unusual quantity of goods, which they send to some 
+distant market, in hopes that the returns will come in before the 
+demand for payment. T he demand comes before the returns, and 
+they have nothing at hand with which they can either purchase 
+money or give solid security for borrowing. It is not any scarcity 
+of gold and silver, but the difficulty which such people find in 
+borrowing, and which their creditor find in getting payment, that 
+occasions the general complaint of the scarcity of money. 
+
+It would be too ridiculous to go about seriously to prove, that 
+wealth does not consist in money, or in gold and silver; but in 
+what money purchases, and isvaluableonly for purchasing. M oney, 
+no doubt, makes always a part of the national capital; but it has 
+already been shown that it generally makes but a small part, and 
+
+
+
+always the most unprofitable part of it. 
+
+It is not because wealth consistsmore essentially in money than 
+in goods, that the merchant finds it generally more easy to buy 
+goods with money, than to buy money with goods; but because 
+money isthe known and established instrument of commerce, for 
+which every thing is readily given in exchange, but which is not 
+always with equal readiness to begot in exchange for everything. 
+Thegreater part of goods, besides, are more perishablethan money, 
+and hemay frequently sustain amuch greater loss by keeping them. 
+W hen his goods are upon hand, too, he is more liable to such 
+demands for money as he may not be able to answer, than when 
+he has got their price in his coffers. Over and above all this, his 
+profit arises more directly from selling than from buying; and he 
+is, upon all these accounts, generally much more anxious to ex- 
+changehisgoodsfor money than hismoneyfor goods. But though 
+a particular merchant, with abundanceof goods in his warehouse, 
+may sometimes be ruined by not being ableto sell them in time, a 
+nation or country is not liable to the same accident, T he whole 
+capital of a merchant frequently consists in perishable goods des- 
+tined for purchasing money. But it is but a very small part of the 
+annual produce of the land and labour of a country, which can 
+ever be destined for purchasing gold and silver from their 
+neighbours. Thefar greater part iscirculated and consumed among 
+
+
+
+349 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+themselves; and even of thesurpluswhich is sen tab road, thegreater 
+part is generally destined for the purchaseof other foreign goods. 
+Though gold and silver, therefore, could not be had in exchange 
+for thegoodsdestined to purchase them, the nation would not be 
+ruined. It might, indeed, suffer someloss and inconveniency, and 
+be forced upon some of those expedients which are necessary for 
+supplying the place of money. T heannual produce of its land and 
+labour, however, would be the same, or very nearly the same as 
+usual; because thesame, or very nearlythesameconsumablecapi- 
+tal would be employed in maintaining it. And though goods do 
+not always draw money so readily as money draws goods, in the 
+long-run they draw it more necessarily than even it draws them. 
+G oods can serve many other purposes besides purchasing money, 
+but money can serve no other purpose besides purchasing goods. 
+M oney, therefore, necessarily runs after goods, but goods do not 
+always or necessarily run after money. The man who buys, does 
+not always mean to sell again, but frequently to use or to con- 
+sume; whereas he who sells always means to buy again. The one 
+may frequently havedonethewhole, but the other can never have 
+done more than the one half of his business. It is not for its own 
+sake that men desire money, but for the sake of what they can 
+purchase with it. 
+Consumablecommodities, itissaid, aresoon destroyed; whereas 
+
+
+
+gold and silver are of a more durable nature, and were it not for 
+thiscontinual exportation, might be accumulated for ages together, 
+to the incredible augmentation of the real wealth of the country. 
+Nothing, therefore, it is pretended, can be more disadvantageous 
+to any country, than the trade which consists in the exchange of 
+such lasting for such perishable commodities. We do not, how- 
+ever, reckon that trade disadvantageous, which consists in the ex- 
+change of the hardware of England for the wines of France, and 
+yet hardware is a very durable commodity, and were it not for this 
+continual exportation, mighttoo beaccumulated foragestogether, 
+to the incredible augmentation of the pots and pans of the coun- 
+try. But it readily occurs, that the number of such utensils is in 
+every country necessarily limited by the use which there is for 
+them; that it would be absurd to have more pots and pans than 
+were necessary for cooking the victuals usually consumed there; 
+and that, if the quantity of victuals were to increase, the number 
+of pots and panswould readily increase along with it; a part of the 
+increased quantity of victuals being em ployed in purchasing them, 
+or in maintaining an additional number of workmen whose busi- 
+nessitwastomakethem. It should as readily occur, thatthequan- 
+tityof gold and silver is, in every country, limited bytheusewhich 
+thereisforthosemetals; that their use consistsin circulating com- 
+modities, as coin, and in affording a species of household furni- 
+
+
+
+350 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+ture, as plate; that the quantity of coin in every country is regu- 
+lated by the value of the commodities which are to be circulated 
+by it; increase that value, and immediately a part of it will be sent 
+abroad to purchase, wherever it isto be had, the additional quan- 
+tity of coin requisite for circulating them: that the quantity of 
+plate is regulated by the number and wealth of those private fami- 
+lies who choose to indulge themselves in that sort of magnifi- 
+cence; increase thenumber and wealth of such families, and apart 
+of this increased wealth will most probably be employed in pur- 
+chasing, wherever it isto befound, an additional quantity of plate; 
+that to attempt to increase the wealth of any country, either by 
+introducing or by detaining in it an unnecessary quantity of gold 
+and silver, is as absurd as it would be to attempt to increase the 
+good cheer of private families, by obliging them to keep an un- 
+necessary number of kitchen utensils. As the expense of purchas- 
+ing thoseunnecessaryutensilswould diminish, instead of increas- 
+ing, either the quantity or goodness of the family provisions; so 
+the expense of purchasing an unnecessary quantity of gold and 
+silver must, in every country, as necessarily diminish the wealth 
+which feeds, clothes, and lodges, which maintains and employs 
+the people. Gold and silver, whether in the shape of coin or of 
+plate, are utensils, it must be remembered, as much as the f urn i- 
+tureof thekitchen. Increasetheuseof them, increasetheconsum- 
+
+
+
+able commodities which are to be circulated, managed, and pre- 
+pared by meansof them, and you will infallibly increase thequan- 
+tity; but if you attempt by extraordinary means to increase the 
+quantity, you will asinfallibly diminish theuse, and even thequan- 
+titytoo, which in those metals can never be greater than what the 
+use requires. Were they ever to be accumulated beyond thisquan- 
+tity, their transportation isso easy, and theloss which attendstheir 
+lying idle and unemployed so great, that no law could prevent 
+their being immediately sent out of the country. 
+
+It is not always necessary to accumulate go Id and silver, in order 
+to enable a country to carry on foreign wars, and to maintain 
+fleets and armiesin distant countries. Fleets and armies are main- 
+tained, not with gold and silver, but with consumable goods. The 
+nation which, from the annual produce of its domestic industry, 
+from the annual revenue arising out of its lands, and labour, and 
+consumablestock, has wherewithal to purchasethose consumable 
+goods in distant countries, can maintain foreign wars there. 
+
+A nation may purchase the pay and provisions of an army in a 
+distant country three different ways; by sending abroad either, 
+first, some part of its accumulated gold and silver; or, secondly, 
+some part of the annual produce of its manufactures; or, last of all, 
+some part of its annual rude produce. 
+
+The gold and silver which can properly be considered asaccu- 
+
+
+
+351 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+mulated, or stored up in any country, may be distinguished into 
+three parts; first, the circulating money; secondly, the plate of pri- 
+vate families; and, last of all, the money which may have been 
+collected by many years parsimony, and laid up in the treasury of 
+the prince. 
+
+It can seldom happen that much can be spared from the circu- 
+lating money of the country; because in that there can seldom be 
+much redundancy. T he value of goods annually bought and sold 
+in any country requires a certain quantity of money to circulate 
+and distribute them to their proper consumers, and can give em- 
+ployment to no more. T hechannel of circulation necessarily draws 
+to itself a sum sufficient to fill it, and never admits any more. 
+Something, however, is generally withdrawn from thischannel in 
+the case of foreign war. By the great number of people who are 
+maintained abroad, fewer are maintained at home. Fewer goods 
+are circulated there, and less money becomes necessary to circu- 
+late them. An extraordinary quantity of paper money of somesort 
+or other, too, such as exchequer notes, navy bills, and bank bills, 
+in England, is generally issued upon such occasions, and, by sup- 
+plying the place of circulating gold and silver, gives an opportu- 
+nity of sending a greater quantity of it abroad. All this, however, 
+could afford but a poor resource for maintaining a foreign war, of 
+great expense, and several years duration. 
+
+
+
+The melting down of the plate of private families has, upon 
+every occasion, been found a still more insignificant one. The 
+French, in the beginning of the last war, did not derive so much 
+advantage from this expedient as to compensate the loss of the 
+fashion. 
+
+T he accumulated treasures of the prince have in former times 
+afforded a much greater and more lasting resource. I n the present 
+times, if you except the king of Prussia, to accumulate treasure 
+seems to be no part of the policy of European princes. 
+
+The funds which maintained the foreign wars of the present 
+century, the most expensive perhaps which history records, seem 
+to have had little dependency upon the exportation either of the 
+circulating money, or of the plate of private families, or of the 
+treasure of the prince. T he last French war cost G reat Britain up- 
+wards of £90,000,000, including not only the £75,000,000 of 
+new debt that was contracted, but theadditional 2s. inthepound 
+land-tax, and what was annually borrowed of the sinking fund. 
+M ore than two-thirdsof this expense were I aid out in distant coun- 
+tries; in Germany, Portugal, America, in theportsof theM editer- 
+ranean, in theEastand West Indies. Thekingsof England had no 
+accumulated treasure. We never heard of any extraordinary quan- 
+tity of plate being melted down. Thecirculating gold and silver of 
+thecountry had not been supposed to exceed £18,000,000. Since 
+
+
+
+352 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+the late recoinageof thegold, however, it is believed to have been 
+a good deal under-rated. Let us suppose, therefore, according to 
+the most exaggerated computation which I remember to have ei- 
+ther seen or heard of, that, gold and silver together, it amounted 
+to £30,000,000. H ad the war been carried on by means of our 
+money, the wholeof it must, even according to thiscomputation, 
+have been sent out and returned again, at least twice in a period of 
+between six and seven years. Should this be supposed, it would 
+afford the most decisive argument, to demonstrate how unneces- 
+sary it isfor government to watch over the preservation of money, 
+since, upon this supposition, the whole money of the country 
+must have gone from it, and returned to it again, two different 
+times in so short a period, without any body's knowing any thing 
+of thematter.Thechannel of circulation, however, never appeared 
+more empty than usual during any part of this period. Few people 
+wanted money who had wherewithal to pay for it. T he profits of 
+foreign trade, indeed, were greater than usual during the whole 
+war, but especially towards the end of it. T his occasioned, what it 
+always occasions, a general over-trading in all the ports of Great 
+Britain; and thisagain occasioned theusual complaint of thescar- 
+city of money, which always follows over-trading. M any people 
+wanted it, who had neither wherewithal to buy it, nor credit to 
+borrow it; and because the debtors found it difficult to borrow, 
+
+
+
+the creditors found it difficult to get payment. Gold and silver, 
+however, were generally to be had for their value, by those who 
+had that value to give for them. 
+
+The enormous expense of the late war, therefore, must have 
+been chiefly defrayed, not by the exportation of gold and silver, 
+but by that of British commodities of some kind or other. W hen 
+the government, or those who acted under them, contracted with 
+a merchant for a remittance to some foreign country, he would 
+naturally endeavour to pay hisforelgn correspondent, upon whom 
+hegranted a bill, by sending abroad rather commoditiesthan gold 
+and silver. If the commodities of Great Britain were not in de- 
+mand in that country, he would endeavour to send them to some 
+other country in which he could purchase a bill upon that coun- 
+try. The transportation of commodities, when properly suited to 
+the market, is always attended with a considerable profit; whereas 
+that of gold and silver is scarce ever attended with any. When 
+those metals are sent abroad in order to purchase foreign com- 
+modities, the merchant's prof it arises, not from the purchase, but 
+from the sale of the returns. But when they are sent abroad merely 
+to pay a debt, he gets no returns, and consequently no profit. H e 
+naturally, therefore, exerts his invention to find out a way of pay- 
+ing his foreign debts, rather by the exportation of commodities, 
+than by that of gold and silver.Thegreatquantity of British goods, 
+
+
+
+353 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+exported duringthecourseof thelate war, without bringing back 
+any returns, is accordingly remarked by the author of the Present 
+State of the Nation. 
+
+Besides thethree sorts of gold and silver above mentioned, there 
+is in all great commercial countries a good deal of bullion alter- 
+nately imported and exported, for the purposes of foreign trade. 
+This bullion, as it circulates among different commercial coun- 
+tries, in the same manner as the national coin circulates in every 
+country, may be considered as the money of the great mercantile 
+republic. The national coin receives its movement and direction 
+from thecommodities circulated within theprecincts of each par- 
+ticular country; the money in the mercantile republic, from those 
+circulated between different countries. Both are employed in fa- 
+cilitating exchanges, the one between different individuals of the 
+same, the other between those of different nations. Part of this 
+money of thegreatmercantilerepublicmay have been, and prob- 
+ably was, employed in carrying on the late war. In time of a gen- 
+eral war, it is natural to suppose that a movement and direction 
+should be impressed upon it, different from what it usually fol- 
+lows in profound peace, that it should circulate more about the 
+seat of the war, and be more employed in purchasing there, and in 
+the neighbouring countries, the pay and provisions of the differ- 
+ent armies. But whatever part of this money of the mercantile 
+
+
+
+republic Great Britain may have annually employed in this man- 
+ner, it must have been annually purchased, either with British com- 
+modities, or with something else that had been purchased with 
+them; which still brings us back to commodities, to the annual 
+produce of the land and labour of the country, as the ultimate 
+resources which enabled us to carry on the war. It is natural, in- 
+deed, to suppose, that so great an annual expense must have been 
+defrayed from a great annual produce. T he expense of 1761, for 
+example, amounted to more than £19,000,000. No accumula- 
+tion could have supported so great an annual profusion. There is 
+no annual produce, even of gold and silver, which could havesup- 
+ported it. The whole gold and silver annually imported into both 
+Spain and Portugal, according to the best accounts, doesnot com- 
+monly much exceed £6,000,000 sterling, which, in some years, 
+would scarce have paid four months expense of the late war. 
+
+T he commodities most proper for being transported to distant 
+countries, in order to purchasethereeitherthepayand provisions 
+of an army, or some part of the money of the mercantile republic 
+to be employed in purchasing them, seem to bethefiner and more 
+improved manufactures; such as contain a great value in a small 
+bulk, and can therefore be exported to a great distance at little 
+expense. A country whose industry produces a great annual sur- 
+plus of such manufactures, which are usually exported to foreign 
+
+
+
+354 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+countries, may carry on for many years a very expensive foreign 
+war, without either exporting any considerable quantity of gold 
+and silver, or even havinganysuch quantity to export. A consider- 
+able part of the annual surplus of its manufactures must, indeed, 
+in thiscase, be exported without bringing back any returnsto the 
+country, though it does to the merchant; the government pur- 
+chasing of the merchant his bills upon foreign countries, in order 
+topurchasetherethepayand provisions of an army. Some part of 
+this surplus, however, may still continue to bring back a return. 
+The manufacturers during; the war will have a double demand 
+upon them, and be called upon first to work up goods to be sent 
+abroad, for paying the bills drawn upon foreign countries for the 
+pay and provisions of the army: and, secondly, to work up such as 
+arenecessaryforpurchasingthecommon returns that had usually 
+been consumed in the country. In the midst of the most destruc- 
+tive foreign war, therefore, the greater part of manufactures may 
+frequently flourish greatly; and, on thecontrary, they may decline 
+on the return of peace. They may flourish amidst the ruin of their 
+country, and begin to decay upon the return of its prosperity. The 
+different state of many different branches of the British manufac- 
+tures during the late war, and for some time after the peace, may 
+serve as an illustration of what has been just now said. 
+N o foreign war, of great expense or duration, could conveniently 
+
+
+
+be carried on by the exportation of the rude produce of the soil. 
+The expense of sending such a quantity of it into a foreign coun- 
+try as might purchase the pay and provisions of an army would be 
+too great. Few countries, too, produce much more rude produce 
+than what is sufficient for the subsistence of their own inhabit- 
+ants. To send abroad any great quantity of it, therefore, would be 
+to send abroad a part of the necessary subsistence of the people. 1 1 
+is otherwise with the exportation of manufactures. T he mainte- 
+nance of the people employed in them is kept at home, and only 
+the surplus part of their work is exported. M r H ume frequently 
+takes notice of the inability of the ancient kings of England to 
+carry on, without interruption, any foreign war of long duration. 
+The English in those days had nothing wherewithal to purchase 
+the pay and provisions of their armies in foreign countries, but 
+either the rude produce of the soil, of which no considerable part 
+could be spared from the home consumption, or a few manufac- 
+turesof thecoarsest kind, of which, aswell asof the rude produce, 
+the transportation was too expensive. This inability did notarise 
+from the want of money, but of the finer and more improved 
+manufactures. Buying and selling was transacted by means of 
+money in England then aswell as now. The quantity of circulat- 
+ing money must have borne the same proportion, to the number 
+and value of purchases and sales usually transacted at that time, 
+
+
+
+355 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+which it does to those transacted at present; or, rather, it must 
+havebornea greater proportion, because there was then no paper, 
+which now occupies a great part of the employment of gold and 
+silver. Among nations to whom commerce and manufactures are 
+littleknown, thesovereign, upon extraordinary occasions, can sel- 
+dom draw any considerableaid from hissubjects, for reasons which 
+shall be explained hereafter. It is in such countries, therefore, that 
+he generally endeavours to accumulate a treasure, as the only re 
+source again st such emergencies. Independent of this necessity, he 
+is, in such a situation, naturally disposed to the parsimony requi- 
+site for accumulation. In that simple state, the expense even of a 
+sovereign is not directed by the vanity which delights in the gaudy 
+finery of a court, but is employed in bounty to his tenants, and 
+hospitality to his retainers. But bounty and hospitality very sel- 
+dom lead to extravagance; though vanity almost always does. Ev- 
+ery Tartar chief, accordingly, hasatreasureThetreasuresof M azepa, 
+chief of the Cossacks in the U kraine, the famous ally of C harles 
+XII., are said to have been very great. The French kings of the 
+M erovingian racehad all treasures. W hen they divided their king- 
+dom among their different children, they divided their treasures 
+too. The Saxon princes, and the first kings after the Conquest, 
+seem likewise to have accumulated treasures. The first exploit of 
+every new reign wascommonly to seize thetreasure of thepreced- 
+
+
+
+ing king, as the most essential measure for securing the succes- 
+sion. The sovereigns of improved and commercial countries are 
+not under the same necessity of accumulating treasures, because 
+they can generally draw from their subjects extraordinary aidsupon 
+extraordinary occasions. T hey are likewise less disposed to do so. 
+They naturally, perhaps necessarily, follow the mode of the times; 
+and their expense comes to be regulated by the same extravagant 
+vanity which directs that of all theother great proprietors in their 
+dominions. The insignificant pageantry of their court becomes 
+everyday more brilliant; and the expense of it not only prevents 
+accumulation, but frequently encroaches upon thefundsdestined 
+for more necessary expenses. W hat D ercyllidas said of thecourt of 
+Persia, may be applied to that of several European princes, that he 
+saw there much splendour, but little strength, and many servants, 
+but few soldiers. 
+
+The importation of gold and silver is not the principal, much 
+I ess the sole benefit, which a nation derives from itsforeign trade. 
+Between whatever places foreign trade is carried on, they all of 
+them derive two distinct benefits from it. It carries out that sur- 
+plus part of theproduce of their land and labour for which there is 
+no demand among them, and brings back in return for it some- 
+thing else for which there is a demand. It gives a value to their 
+superfluities, by exchanging them for something else, which may 
+
+
+
+356 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+satisfya part of their wantsand in crease their enjoyments. Bymeans 
+of it, the narrowness of the home market does not hinder the 
+division of labour in any particular branch of art or manufacture 
+from being carried to the highest perfection. By opening a more 
+extensive market for whatever part of the produce of their labour 
+may exceed the home consumption, it encourages them to im- 
+prove itsproductive power, and to augment its annual produce to 
+theutmost, and thereby to in crease the real revenueand wealth of 
+the society. These great and important services foreign trade is 
+continually occupied in performing to all the different countries 
+between which it is carried on. They all derive great benefit from 
+it, though that in which themerchant resides generally derives the 
+greatest, asheisgenerally more employed in supplying the wants, 
+and carrying out the superfluities of his own, than of any other 
+particular country. To import the gold and silver which may be 
+wanted into the countries which have no mines, is, no doubt a 
+part of the business of foreign commerce. It is, however, a most 
+insignificant part of it. A country which carried on foreign trade 
+merely upon this account, could scarce have occasion to freight a 
+ship in a century. 
+
+Itisnotbytheimportation of gold and silver that the discovery 
+of America has enriched Europe. By the abundance of the Ameri- 
+can mines, those metals have become cheaper. A service of plate 
+
+
+
+can now bepurchased for about a third part of thecorn, or a third 
+part of the labour, which it would have cost in the fifteenth cen- 
+tury. With the same annual expense of labour and commodities, 
+Europe can annually purchase about three times the quantity of 
+plate which itcould havepurchased at that time. But when acom- 
+moditycomestobesoldforathird part of what bad been its usual 
+price, not only those who purchased it before can purchase three 
+times their former quantity, but it is brought down to the level of 
+a much greater number of purchasers, perhaps to more than ten, 
+perhaps to more than twenty times the former number. So that 
+there may bein Europe at present, not only more than three times, 
+but more than twenty or thirty times thequantity of plate which 
+would have been in it, even in its present state of improvement, 
+had the discovery of the American mines never been made. So far 
+Europe has, no doubt, gained a real conveniency, though surely a 
+very trifling one. The cheapness of gold and silver renders those 
+metals rather less fit for the purposes of money than they were 
+before. I n order to make the same purchases, we must load our- 
+selves with a greater quantity of them, and carry about a shilling 
+in our pocket, where a groat would have done before. 1 1 is difficult 
+to say which is most trifling, this inconveniency, or the opposite 
+conveniency. Neither the one nor the other could have made any 
+very essential change in the state of Europe. The discovery of 
+
+
+
+357 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+America, however, certainly made a most essential one. By open- 
+ing a new and inexhaustible market to all the commodities of 
+Europe, it gave occasion to new divisionsof labour and improve 
+ments of art, which in the narrow circle of the ancient commerce 
+could never have taken place, for want of a market to take off the 
+greater part of their produce. The productive powers of labour 
+wereimproved, and its produce increased in all thedifferent coun- 
+tries of Europe, and together with it the real revenue and wealth of 
+the inhabitants. The commodities of Europe were almost all new 
+to America, and many of those of America were new to Europe. A 
+new set of exchanges, therefore, began to take place, which had 
+never been thought of before, and which should naturally have 
+proved as advantageous to the new, as it certainly did to the old 
+continent.ThesavageinjusticeoftheEuropeansrendered an event, 
+which ought to have been beneficial to all, ruinous and destruc- 
+tive to several of those unfortunate countries. 
+
+T he discovery of a passage to the East I ndies by the C ape of 
+Good H ope, which happened much about thesametime, opened 
+perhaps a still more extensive range to foreign commerce, than 
+even that of America, notwithstanding thegreater distance. There 
+were but two nations in America, in any respect, superior to the 
+savages, and these were destroyed almost as soon as discovered. 
+The rest were mere savages. But the empires of China, Indostan, 
+
+
+
+Japan, as well as several others in the East Indies, without having 
+richer mines of gold or silver, were, in every other respect, much 
+richer, better cultivated, and more advanced in all arts and manu- 
+factures, than either M exico or Peru, even though we should credit, 
+what plainly deserves no credit, the exaggerated accounts of the 
+Spanish writers concerning theancient state of those empires. But 
+rich and civilized nations can always exchange to a much greater 
+value with one another, than with savages and barbarians. Eu- 
+rope, however, has hitherto derived much I ess advantage from its 
+commerce with the East I ndies, than from that with America. T he 
+Portuguese monopolized the East India trade to themselves for 
+about a century; and it was only indirectly, and through them, 
+that the other nations of Europe could either send out or receive 
+any goods from that country. When the Dutch, in the beginning 
+of the last century, began to encroach upon them, they vested 
+their whole East India commerce in an exclusive company. The 
+English, French, Swedes, and Danes, have all followed their ex- 
+ample; so that no great nation of Europe has ever yet had the 
+benefit of a free commerce to the East Indies. N o other reason 
+need be assigned why it has never been so advantageous as the 
+trade to America, which, between almost every nation of Europe 
+and its own colonies, isfreetoall its subjects. T he exclusive privi- 
+leges of those East India companies, their great riches, the great 
+
+
+
+358 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+favour and protection which these have procured them from their 
+respective governments, have excited much envy against them. 
+T hisenvy has frequently represented their tradeas altogether per- 
+nicious, on account of the great quantities of silver which it every 
+year exports from the countries from which it is carried on. The 
+parties concerned have replied, that their trade by this continual 
+exportation of silver, might indeed tend to impoverish Europe in 
+general, but not the particular country from which it was carried 
+on; because, by the exportation of a part of the returns to other 
+European countries, it annually brought home a much greater 
+quantity of that metal than it carried out. Both the objection and 
+the reply are founded in the popular notion which I have been 
+just now examining. It is therefore unnecessary to say any thing 
+further about either. By the annual exportation of silver to the 
+East Indies, plate is probably somewhat dearer in Europe than it 
+otherwise might have been; and coined silver probably purchases 
+a larger quantity both of labour and commodities. T he former of 
+these two effects is a very small loss, the latter a very small advan- 
+tage; both too insignificant to deserve any part of the public at- 
+tention. T he trade to the East I ndies, by opening a market to the 
+commoditiesof Europe, or, what comes nearly to the same thing, 
+tothegold and silver which is purchased with those commodities, 
+must necessarily tend to increase the annual production of Euro- 
+
+
+
+pean commodities, and consequently the real wealth and revenue 
+of Europe. That it has hitherto increased them so little, is prob- 
+ably owing to the restraints which it everywhere labours under. 
+
+I thought it necessary, though at the hazard of being tedious, to 
+examine at full length this popular notion, that wealth consists in 
+money or in gold and silver. M oney, in common language, as I 
+have already observed, frequently signifies wealth; and this ambi- 
+guity of expression hasrendered thispopular notion so familiar to 
+us, that even they who are convinced of its absurdity, are very apt 
+to forget their own principles, and, in the course of their reason- 
+ings, to take it for granted asacertain and undeniabletruth. Some 
+of the best English writers upon commerce set out with observ- 
+ing, that the wealth of a country consists, not in its gold and silver 
+only, but in its lands, houses, and consumable goods of all differ- 
+ent kinds. In the course of their reasonings, however, the lands, 
+houses, and consumable goods, seem to slip out of their memory; 
+and thestrain of their argument frequently supposes that all wealth 
+consistsin gold and silver, and that to multiply those metals is the 
+great object of national industry and commerce. 
+
+T hetwo principles being established, however, that wealth con- 
+sisted in gold and silver, and that those metals could be brought 
+into a country which had no mines, only by the balance of trade, 
+or by exporting to a greater value than it imported; it necessarily 
+
+
+
+359 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+becamethe great object of political economy to diminish asmuch 
+as possible the importation of foreign goods for home consump- 
+tion, and to increase as much as possible the exportation of the 
+produceof domestic industry. Its two great engines for enriching 
+the country therefore, were restraints upon importation, and en- 
+couragement to exportation. 
+
+The restraints upon importation were of two kinds. 
+
+First, restraints upon the importation of such foreign goodsfor 
+home consumption as could be produced at home, from what- 
+ever country they were imported. 
+
+Secondly, restraints upon the importation of goods of almost all 
+kinds, from those particular countries with which the balance of 
+trade was supposed to be disadvantageous. 
+
+Those different restraints consisted sometimes in high duties, 
+and sometimes in absolute prohibitions. 
+
+Exportation was encouraged sometimes by drawbacks, some- 
+times by bounties, sometimes by advantageous treaties of com- 
+merce with foreign states, and sometimes by the establishment of 
+colonies in distant countries. 
+
+D rawbacks were given upon two different occasions. W hen the 
+home manufactures were subject to any duty or excise, either the 
+whole or a part of it was frequently drawn back upon their expor- 
+tation; and when foreign goods liableto a duty were imported, in 
+
+
+
+order to be exported again, either the whole or a part of this duty 
+was sometimes given back upon such exportation. 
+
+Bounties were given for the encouragement, either of some be- 
+ginning manufactures, or of such sorts of industry of other kinds 
+as were supposed to deserve particular favour. 
+
+By advantageoustreaties of commerce, particular privileges were 
+procured in someforeign state for thegoodsand merchants of the 
+country, beyond what were granted to those of other countries. 
+
+By the establishment of colonies in distant countries, not only 
+particular privileges, but a monopoly was frequently procured for 
+thegoodsand merchants of the country which established them. 
+
+Thetwo sorts of restraints upon importation above mentioned, 
+together with these four encouragements to exportation, consti- 
+tute thesix principal meansby which thecommercial system pro- 
+poses to increase thequantity of gold and silver in any country, by 
+turning the balance of trade in its favour. I shall consider each of 
+them in a particular chapter, and, without taking much farther 
+notice of their supposed tendency to bring money into the coun- 
+try, I shall examinechiefly what arelikely to betheeffectsof each 
+of them upon the annual produce of its industry. According as 
+they tend either to increase or diminish the value of this annual 
+produce, they must evidently tend either to increase or diminish 
+the real wealth and revenue of the country. 
+
+
+
+360 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II 
+
+OF RESTRAINTS UPON IMPORTATION 
+
+FROM FOREIGN COUNTRIES OF SUCH 
+
+GOODSASCAN BE PRODUCED AT 
+
+HOME 
+
+By restraining, either byhigh duties, or by absolute prohibitions, 
+the importation of such goods from foreign countries as can be 
+produced at home, the monopoly of the home market is more or 
+less secured to thedomestic industry employed in producing them. 
+Thus the prohibition of importing either live cattle or salt provi- 
+sionsfrom foreign countries, secures to the graziers of Great Brit- 
+ain the monopoly of the home market for butcher's meat. The 
+high duties upon the importation of corn, which, in times of 
+moderate plenty, amount to a prohibition, givealikeadvantage to 
+the growers of that commodity. T he prohibition of the importa- 
+tion of foreign woollen isequally favourableto the woollen manu- 
+facturers Thesilk manufacture, though altogether employed upon 
+foreign materials, has lately obtained the same advantage. The linen 
+manufacture has not yet obtained it, but is making great strides 
+towards it. M any other sorts of manufactures have, in the same 
+manner obtained in Great Britain, either altogether, or very nearly, 
+
+
+
+a monopoly against their countrymen. The variety of goods, of 
+which the importation into Great Britain is prohibited, either ab- 
+solutely, or under certain circumstances, greatly exceeds what can 
+easily be suspected bythosewhoarenotwell acquainted with the 
+laws of the customs. 
+
+T hat this monopoly of the home market frequently gives great 
+encouragement to that particular species of industry which enjoys 
+it, and frequently turns towards that employment a greater share 
+of both the labour and stock of the society than would otherwise 
+havegoneto it, cannot be doubted. But whether it tends either to 
+increase the general industry of the society, or to give it the most 
+advantageous direction, is not, perhaps, altogether so evident. 
+
+The general industry of the society can never exceed what the 
+capital of the society can employ. Asthenumber of workmen that 
+can be kept in employment by any particular person must bear a 
+certain proportion to his capital, so the number of those that can 
+be continually employed by all the members of a great society 
+must bear a certain proportion to the whole capital of thesociety, 
+and never can exceed that proportion. N o regulation of commerce 
+can increase the quantity of industry in any society beyond what 
+its capital can maintain. It can only divert a part of it into a direc- 
+tion into which it might not otherwise have gone; and it is by no 
+means certain that this artificial direction is likely to be more ad- 
+
+
+
+361 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+vantageous to the society, than that into which it would havegone 
+of its own accord. 
+
+Every individual is continually exerting himself to find out the 
+most ad vantageous employment for whatever capital he can com- 
+mand. Itishisown advantage, indeed, and not that of thesociety, 
+which he has in view. But the study of his own advantage natu- 
+rally, or rather necessarily, leads him to prefer that employment 
+which is most advantageous to thesociety. 
+
+First, every individual endeavours to employ hiscapital as near 
+home as he can, and consequently as much as he can in the sup- 
+port of domestic industry, provided always that he can thereby 
+obtain the ordinary, or not a great deal lessthan the ordinary prof- 
+its of stock. 
+
+Thus, upon equal, or nearly equal profits, every wholesale mer- 
+chant naturally prefers the hometradetotheforeigntradeof con- 
+sumption, and the foreign trade of consumption to the carrying 
+trade. In the home trade, his capital is never so long out of his 
+sight as it frequently is in the foreign trade of consumption. He 
+can know better the character and situation of the persons whom 
+hetrusts; and if heshould happen to bedeceived, heknowsbetter 
+the laws of the country from which he must seek redress. I n the 
+carrying trade, the capital of the merchant is, as it were, divided 
+between two foreign countries, and no part of it isever necessarily 
+
+
+
+brought home, or placed under hisown immediate view and com- 
+mand. The capital which an Amsterdam merchant employs in 
+carrying corn from Koningsberg to Lisbon, and fruit and wine 
+from Lisbon to Koningsberg, must generally be the one half of it 
+at Koningsberg, and the other half at Lisbon. No part of it need 
+ever come to Amsterdam. The natural residence of such a mer- 
+chant should either beat Koningsberg or Lisbon; and it can only 
+besomevery particular circumstances which can makehim prefer 
+the residence of Amsterdam. The uneasiness, however, which he 
+feels at being separated so far from his capital, generally deter- 
+mines him to bring part both of the Koningsberg goods which he 
+destines for the market of Lisbon, and of theLisbon goods which 
+he destines for that of Koningsberg, to Amsterdam; and though 
+this necessarily subjects him to a double charge of loading and 
+unloading as well as to the payment of some duties and customs, 
+yet, for the sake of having some part of his capital always under 
+hisown view and command, he willingly submits to this extraor- 
+dinary charge; and it is in this manner that every country which 
+has any considerable share of the carrying trade, becomes always 
+theemporium, or general market, for thegoodsof all thedifferent 
+countries whose tradeit carries on. Themerchant, in order to save 
+a second loading and unloading, endeavours always to sell in the 
+home market, as much of the goods of all those different coun- 
+
+
+
+362 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+tries as he can; and thus, so far as he can, to convert his carrying 
+trade into a foreign trade of consumption. A merchant, in the 
+same manner, who is engaged in the foreign trade of consump- 
+tion, when he collects goods for foreign markets, will always be 
+glad, upon equal or nearly equal profits, to sell as great a part of 
+them at home as he can. He saves himself the risk and trouble of 
+exportation, when, so far as he can, he thus converts his foreign 
+trade of consumption into a home trade. Home is in this manner 
+the centre, if I may say so, round which the capitals of the inhab- 
+itants of every country are continually circulating, and towards 
+which they are always tending, though, by particular causes, they 
+may sometimes be driven off and repelled from it towards more 
+distant employments. But a capital employed in thehometrade, 
+it has already been shown, necessarily puts into motion a greater 
+quantity of domestic industry, and gives revenueand employment 
+to a greater number of the inhabitants of the country, than an 
+equal capital employed in theforeign trade of consumption; and 
+one employed in theforeign trade of consumption has the same 
+advantage over an equal capital employed in the carrying trade. 
+Upon equal, or only nearly equal profits, therefore, every indi- 
+vidual naturally inclines to employ his capital in the manner in 
+which it is likely to afford thegreatest support to domestic indus- 
+try, and to give revenue and employment to the greatest number 
+
+
+
+of people of his own country. 
+
+Secondly, every individual who employs his capital in the sup- 
+port of domestic industry, necessarily endeavours so to direct that 
+industry, that its produce may be of thegreatest possible value. 
+
+T he produce of industry is what it adds to the subject or mate- 
+rialsupon which itisemployed. In proportion asthevalueof this 
+produce is great or small, so will likewise be the profits of the 
+employer. But it is only for the sake of profit that any man em- 
+ploysa capital in thesupport of industry; and hewill always, there- 
+fore, endeavour to employ it in the support of that industry of 
+which the produce is likely to be of the greatest value, or to ex- 
+change for thegreatest quantity either of money or of other goods. 
+
+But theannual revenueof every society isalways precisely equal 
+to the exchangeable value of the whole annual produce of its in- 
+dustry, or rather is precisely the same thing with that exchange- 
+able value. As every individual, therefore, endeavours as much as 
+he can, both to employ his capital in the support of domestic 
+industry, and so to direct that industry that its produce maybe of 
+thegreatest value; every individual necessarily labours to render 
+theannual revenue of the society as great as he can. He generally, 
+indeed, neither intendsto promote thepublic interest, nor knows 
+how much he is promoting it. By preferring the support of do- 
+mestic to that of foreign industry, he intends only his own secu- 
+
+
+
+363 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+rity; and by directing that industry in such a manner as its pro- 
+duce may be of the greatest value, he intends only his own gain; 
+and he is in this, as in many other cases, led by an invisible hand 
+to promote an end which was no part of his intention. N or is it 
+always theworse for thesociety that itwasno part of it. Bypursu- 
+ing his own interest, he frequently promotes that of the society 
+more effectually than when he really intendsto promoteit. I have 
+never known much good done by those who affected to trade for 
+the public good. It is an affectation, indeed, not very common 
+among merchants, and very few words need be employed in dis- 
+suading them from it. 
+
+What is the species of domestic industry which his capital can 
+employ, and of which the produce is likely to be of the greatest 
+value, every individual, it isevident, can in hislocal situation judge 
+much better than any statesman or lawgiver can do for him. The 
+statesman, who should attempt to direct private people in what 
+manner they ought to employ their capitals, would not only load 
+himself with a most unnecessary attention, butassumean author- 
+ity which could safely betrusted, not only to no single person, but 
+to no council or senate whatever, and which would nowhere be so 
+dangerous as in the hands of a man who had folly and presump- 
+tion enough to fancy himself fit to exercise it. 
+
+To give the monopoly of the home market to the produce of 
+
+
+
+domestic industry, in any particular art or manufacture, isin some 
+measure to direct private people in what manner they ought to 
+employ their capitals, and must in almost all cases be either a use- 
+less or a hurtful regulation. If the produce of domestic can be 
+brought there as cheap as that of foreign industry, the regulation is 
+evidently useless. If it cannot, it must generally behurtful. 1 1 isthe 
+maxim of every prudent master of a family, never to attempt to 
+make at home what it will cost him more to make than to buy. 
+Thetailordoesnot attempt to makehisown shoes, but buys them 
+of the shoemaker. The shoemaker does not attempt to make his 
+own clothes, but employs a tailor. The farmer attempts to make 
+neither the one nor the other, but employs those different artifi- 
+cers. All of them find it for their interest to employ their whole 
+industry in a way in which they have some advantage over their 
+neighbours, and to purchase with a part of its produce, or, what is 
+the same thing, with the price of a part of it, whatever else they 
+have occasion for. 
+
+W hat isprudencein theconduct of every privatefamily, can scarce 
+be folly In that of a great kingdom. If a foreign country can supply 
+us with a commodity cheaper than we ourselves can make it, better 
+buy it of them with some part of the produce of our own industry, 
+employed in a way in which we have some advantage. T he general 
+industry of the country being always in proportion to the capital 
+
+
+
+364 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+which employs it, will not thereby be diminished, no more than 
+that of the abovementioned artificers; but only left to find out the 
+way in which it can be employed with the greatest advantage. It is 
+certainly not employed to the greatest advantage, when it is thus 
+directed towards an object which it can buy cheaper than it can 
+make. T he value of its annual produce is certainly more or less di- 
+minished, when it is thus turned away from producing commodi- 
+ties evidently of more value than the commodity which it is di- 
+rected to produce. According to the supposition, that commodity 
+could be purchased from foreign countries cheaper than it can be 
+made at home; it could therefore have been purchased with a part 
+only of the commodities, or, what is the same thing, with a part 
+only of thepriceof the commodities, which the industry employed 
+by an equal capital would have produced at home, had it been left 
+to follow itsnatural course. The industry of the country, therefore, 
+is thus turned away from a more to a less advantageous employ- 
+ment; and theexchangeablevalueof its annual produce, instead of 
+being increased, according to the intention of the lawgiver, must 
+necessarily be diminished by every such regulation. 
+
+By means of such regulations, indeed, a particular manufacture 
+may sometimes be acquired sooner than it could have been other- 
+wise, and after a certain time may be made at home as cheap, or 
+cheaper, than in theforeign country. But though theindustry of the 
+
+
+
+society may bethuscarried with advantageinto a particular channel 
+sooner than it could havebeen otherwise, it will bynomeansfollow 
+that the sum-total, either of its industry, or of its revenue, can ever 
+be augmented by any such regulation. Theindustry of the society 
+can augment only in proportion as its capital augments, and its 
+capital can augment only in proportion to what can be gradually 
+saved out of its revenue. But the immediate effect of every such 
+regulation is to diminish its revenue; and what diminishes its rev- 
+enue is certainly not very likely to augment its capital faster than it 
+would have augmented of its own accord, had both capital and 
+industry been left to find out their natural employments. 
+
+Though, for want of such regulations, the society should never 
+acquire the proposed manufacture, it would not upon that ac- 
+count necessarily be the poorer in anyone period of its duration. 
+In every period of its duration itswholecapital and industry might 
+still have been employed, though upon different objects, in the 
+manner that was most advantageous at the time. In every period 
+its revenue might have been the greatest which its capital could 
+afford, and both capital and revenue might havebeen augmented 
+with the greatest possible rapidity. 
+
+The natural advantages which one country has over another, in 
+producing particular commodities, are sometimes so great, that it 
+is acknowledged by all the world to be in vain to struggle with 
+
+
+
+365 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+them. By means of glasses, hot-beds, and hot-walls, very good 
+grapes can be raised in Scotland, and very good wine, too, can be 
+madeof them, at about thirty times theexpense for which at least 
+equally good can be brought from foreign countries. Would it be 
+a reasonable law to prohibit the importation of all foreign wines, 
+merely to encourage the making of claret and Burgundy in Scot- 
+land? But if there would be a manifest absurdity in turning to- 
+wards any employment thirty times more of the capital and in- 
+dustry of the country than would be necessary to purchase from 
+foreign countries an equal quantity of the commodities wanted, 
+there must be an absurdity, though not altogether so glaring, yet 
+exactly of the same kind, in turning towards any such employ- 
+ment a thirtieth, or even a three hundredth part more of either. 
+W hether the advantages which one country has over another be 
+natural or acquired, is in this respect of no consequence. As long 
+as theonecountry has those advantages, and theother wants them, 
+it will always be more advantageous for the latter rather to buy of 
+theformer than to make. It isan acquired advantage only, which 
+one artificer has over his neighbour, who exercises another trade; 
+and yet they both find it more advantageous to buy of one an- 
+other, than to make what does not belong to their particular trades. 
+M erchants and manufacturers are the people who derive the 
+greatest advantage from this monopoly of the home market T he 
+
+
+
+prohibition of the importation of foreign cattle and of salt provi- 
+sions, together with the high duties upon foreign corn, which in 
+times of moderate plenty amount to a prohibition, are not near so 
+advantageoustothegraziersandfarmersof Great Britain, asother 
+regulationsofthesamekind are to its merchants and manufactur- 
+ers. M anufactures, those of the finer kind especially, are more eas- 
+ily transported from onecountry to another than corn or cattle. It 
+is in the fetching and carrying manufactures, accordingly, that 
+foreign trade is chiefly employed. In manufactures, a very small 
+advantage will enable foreigners to undersell our own workmen, 
+even in the home market. It will require a very great one to en able 
+them to do so in the rude produce of the soil. If the free importa- 
+tion of foreign manufactures were permitted, several of the home 
+manufactures would probably suffer,and some of them perhaps 
+go to ruin altogether, and a considerable part of the stock and 
+industry at present employed in them, would be forced to find 
+out some other employment. But the freest importation of the 
+rude produce of the soil could have no such effect upon the agri- 
+culture of the country. 
+
+If the importation of foreign cattle, for example, were made 
+ever so free, so few could be imported, that the grazing trade of 
+Great Britain could be little affected by it. Live cattle are, perhaps, 
+the only commodity of which the transportation is more expen- 
+
+
+
+366 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+sivebyseathan by land. By land they carry themselves to market. 
+By sea, not only the cattle, but their food and their water too, 
+must be carried at no small expense and inconveniency. Theshort 
+sea between Ireland and Great Britain, indeed, renders the impor- 
+tation of Irish cattle more easy. But though the free importation 
+of them, which was lately permitted only for a limited time, were 
+rendered perpetual, it could have no considerable effect upon the 
+interest of the graziers of G reat Britain. T hose parts of G reat Brit- 
+ain which border upon the Irish sea areall grazing countries. Irish 
+cattle could never be imported for their use, but must be drove 
+through those very extensive countries, at no small expense and 
+inconveniency, before they could arrive at their proper market. 
+Fat cattle could not be drove so far. Lean cattle, therefore, could 
+only be imported; and such importation could interfere not with 
+the interest of the feeding or fattening countries, to which, by 
+reducing the price of lean cattle it would rather be advantageous, 
+but with that of thebreedingcountriesonly.Thesmall number of 
+Irish cattle imported since their importation was permitted, to- 
+gether with the good price at which lean cattle still continue to 
+sell, seem to demonstrate, that even the breeding countries of Great 
+Britain are never likely to be much affected by the free importa- 
+tion of Irish cattle. The common people of Ireland, indeed, are 
+said to have sometimes opposed with violence the exportation of 
+
+
+
+their cattle. But if the exporters had found any great advantage in 
+continuing thetrade, they could easily, when the law was on their 
+side, have conquered thismobbish opposition. 
+
+Feeding and fattening countries, besides, must always be highly 
+improved, whereas breeding countries are generally uncultivated. 
+Thehigh priceof lean cattle, by augmenting the value of unculti- 
+vated land, islikeabounty against improvement. Toany country 
+which was highly improved throughout, it would be more advan- 
+tageousto import its lean cattlethan to breed them. The province 
+of H olland, accordingly, is said to follow this maxim at present. 
+Themountainsof Scotland, Wales, and Northumberland, indeed, 
+are countries not capable of much improvement, and seem des- 
+tined by nature to be the breeding countries of Great Britain. The 
+freest importation of foreign cattlecould have no other effect than 
+to hinder those breeding countries from taking advantage of the 
+increasing population and improvement of the rest of the king- 
+dom, from raising their price to an exorbitant height, and from 
+laying a real tax upon all the more improved and cultivated parts 
+of the country. 
+
+The freest importation of salt provisions, in the same manner, 
+could have as little effect upon the interest of thegraziers of Great 
+Britain as that of live cattle. Salt provisions are not only a very 
+bulky commodity, but when compared with fresh meat they area 
+
+
+
+367 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+commodity both of worse quality, and, as they cost more labour 
+and expense, of higher price. They could never, therefore, come 
+into competition with thefresh meat, though they might with the 
+salt provisions of the country. T hey might be used for victualling 
+shipsfordistantvoyages, and such likeuses, but could never make 
+any considerable part of the food of the people. The small quan- 
+tity of salt provisions imported from Ireland since their importa- 
+tion was rendered free, is an experimental proof that our graziers 
+have nothing to apprehend from it. It does not appear that the 
+price of butcher's meat has ever been sensibly affected by it. 
+
+Even thefreeimportation of foreign corn could very little affect 
+the interest of the farmers of Great Britain. Corn is a much more 
+bulky commodity than butcher's meat. A pound of wheat at a 
+penny is as dear as a pound of butcher's meat at fourpence. The 
+small quantity of foreign corn imported even in times of the greatest 
+scarcity, may satisfy our farmers that they can have nothing to fear 
+from the freest importation. The average quantity imported, one 
+year with another, amounts only, according to the very well in- 
+formed author of theTracts upon theCorn Trade, to 23,728 quar- 
+ters of all sorts of grain, and does not exceed the five hundredth 
+and seventy-one part of theannual consumption. But as the bounty 
+upon corn occasions a greater exportation in years of plenty, so it 
+must, of consequence, occasion a greater importation in years of 
+
+
+
+scarcity, than in the actual state of tillage would otherwise take 
+place. By means of it, the plenty of oneyear does not compensate 
+the scarcity of another; and as the average quantity exported is 
+necessarily augmented by it, so must likewise, in the actual state 
+of tillage, the average quantity imported. If therewereno bounty, 
+aslesscorn would be exported, suit is probable that, oneyear with 
+another, less would be imported than at present. The corn-mer- 
+chants, the fetchers and carriers of corn between Great Britain 
+and foreign countries, would have much less employment, and 
+might suffer considerably; but the country gentlemen and farm- 
+ers could suffer very little. It is in the corn-merchants, accord- 
+ingly, rather than the country gentlemen and farmers, that I have 
+observed the greatest anxiety for the renewal and continuation of 
+the bounty. 
+
+Country gentlemen and farmers are, to their great honour, of 
+all people, the least subject to the wretched spirit of monopoly. 
+The undertaker of a great manufactory is sometimes alarmed if 
+another work of the same kind isestablished within twenty miles 
+of him; the Dutch undertaker of the woollen manufacture at 
+Abbeville, stipulated that no work of the same kind should be 
+established within thirty leaguesof that city. Farmers and country 
+gentlemen, on the contrary, are generally disposed rather to pro- 
+mote, than to obstruct, the cultivation and improvement of their 
+
+
+
+368 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+neighbours farms and estates. They haveno secrets, such as those 
+of the greater part of manufacturers, but are generally rather fond 
+of communicating to their neighbours, and of extending as far as 
+possible any new practice which they may have found to be ad- 
+vantageous. "Pius quaestus", says old Cato, "stabilissimusque, 
+minimequeinvidiosus; minimeque male cogitantes sunt, qui in 
+eo studio occupati sunt." Country gentlemen and farmers, dis- 
+persed in different parts of the country, cannot so easily combine 
+as merchants and manufacturers, who being collected into towns, 
+and accustomed to that exclusive corporation spirit which pre- 
+vailsin them, naturally endeavourto obtain, against all their coun- 
+trymen, the same exclusive privilege which they generally possess 
+against the inhabitants of their respective towns. They accordingly 
+seem to have been the original inventors of those restraints upon 
+the importation of foreign goods, which secure to them the mo- 
+nopoly of the home market. It was probably in imitation of them, 
+and to put themselves upon a level with those who, they found, 
+were disposed to oppress them, that the country gentlemen and 
+farmers of Great Britain so far forgot the generosity which isnatu- 
+ral to their station, as to demand theexdusiveprivilege of supply- 
+ing their countrymen with corn and butcher's meat. They did not, 
+perhaps, taketimeto consider how much less their interest could 
+be affected bythefreedom of trade, than that of thepeoplewhose 
+
+
+
+example they followed. 
+
+To prohibit, by a perpetual law, the importation of foreign corn 
+and cattle, is in reality to enact, that the population and industry 
+of the country shall, at no time, exceed what the rude produce of 
+its own soil can maintain. 
+
+There seem, however, to be two cases, in which it will generally 
+be advantageous to lay someburden upon foreign, for theencour- 
+agement of domestic industry. 
+
+T hefirst is, when some particular sort of industry isnecessary for 
+the defence of the country. T he defence of G reat Britain, for ex- 
+ample, dependsvery much upon thenumber of its sailors and ship- 
+ping. The act of navigation, therefore, very properly endeavours to 
+give the sailors and shipping of Great Britain the monopoly of the 
+tradeof their own country, in somecases, by absolute prohibitions, 
+and in others, by heavy burdens upon theshipping of foreign coun- 
+tries. The following are the principal dispositions of this act. 
+
+First, All ships, of which theowners, masters, and three-fourths 
+of the mariners, arenot British subjects, are prohibited, upon pain 
+of forfeiting ship and cargo, from trading to the British settle- 
+ments and plantations, or from being employed in the coasting 
+tradeof Great Britain. 
+
+Secondly, A great variety of the most bulky articles of importa- 
+tion can bebrought into Great Britain only, either in such shipsas 
+
+
+
+369 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+are above described, or in ships of the country where those goods 
+areproduced, and of which theowners, masters, and three-fourths 
+of the mariners, areof that particular country; and when imported 
+even in ships of this latter kind, they are subject to double aliens 
+duty. If imported in ships of any other country, the penalty is 
+forfeiture of ship and goods. W hen this act was made, the D utch 
+were, what they still are, the great carriers of Europe; and by this 
+regulation they were entirely excluded from being the carriers to 
+Great Britain, or from importing to us the goods of any other 
+European country. 
+
+Thirdly, A great variety of the most bulky articles of importa- 
+tion are prohibited from being imported, even in British ships, 
+from any country but that in which they are produced, under 
+pain of forfeiting ship and cargo. This regulation, too, was prob- 
+ably intended against the D utch. H olland was then, as now, the 
+great emporium for all European goods; and by this regulation, 
+British ships were hindered from loading in H olland thegoodsof 
+any other European country. 
+
+Fourthly, Salt fish of all kinds, whale fins, whalebone, oil, and 
+blubber, not caught by and cured on board British vessels, when 
+imported into Great Britain, are subject to double aliens duty. 
+TheDutch, as they are still the principal, were then theonlyfish- 
+ersin Europe that attempted to supply foreign nations with fish. 
+
+
+
+By this regulation, a very heavy burden was laid upon their sup- 
+plying Great Britain. 
+
+When the act of navigation was made, though England and 
+Holland werenot actually at war, themost violent animosity sub- 
+sisted between the two nations. It had begun during the govern- 
+ment of the long parliament, which first framed this act, and it 
+brokeoutsoon after in theDutch wars, duringthat of theProtec- 
+tor and of C harles 1 1 . It is not impossible, therefore, that some of 
+the regulations of this famous act may have proceeded from na- 
+tional animosity.Theyareaswise, however, as if they had all been 
+dictated by the most deliberate wisdom. National animosity, at 
+that particular time, aimed at thevery same object which themost 
+deliberate wisdom would have recommended, the diminution of 
+the naval power of H olland, the only naval power which could 
+endanger the security of England. 
+
+The act of navigation is not favourableto foreign commerce, or 
+to the growth of that opulence which can arise from it. The inter- 
+est of a nation, in its commercial relations to foreign nations, is, 
+like that of a merchant with regard to the different people with 
+whom hedeals, to buy as cheap, and to sell asdear as possible. But 
+it will be most likely to buy cheap, when, by the most perfect 
+freedom of trade, it encourages all nationstobringtoitthegoods 
+which it has occasion to purchase; and, for the same reason, it will 
+
+
+
+370 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+bemost likely to sell dear, when its markets are thusfilled with the 
+greatest number of buyers. Theact of navigation, itistrue, lays no 
+burden upon foreign ships that come to export the produce of 
+British industry. Even the ancient aliens duty, which used to be 
+paid upon all goods, exported as well as imported, has, by several 
+subsequent acts, been taken off from the greater part of the ar- 
+ticles of exportation. But if foreigners, either by prohibitions or 
+high duties, are hindered from coming to sell, they cannot always 
+afford to come to buy; because, coming without a cargo, they 
+must lose the freight from their own country to Great Britain. By 
+diminishing the number of sellers, therefore, we necessarily di- 
+minish that of buyers, and arethuslikely not only to buy foreign 
+goods dearer, but to sell our own cheaper, than if there was a more 
+perfect freedom of trade. As defence, however, is of much more 
+importance than opulence, theact of navigation is, perhaps, the 
+wisest of all the commercial regulations of England. 
+
+Thesecond case, in which it will generally be advantageousto lay 
+some burden upon foreign for the encouragement of domestic in- 
+dustry, is when some tax is imposed athomeupon theproduceof 
+the latter. In this case, it seems reasonable that an equal tax should 
+be imposed upon the like produce of the former. This would not 
+give the monopoly of the borne market to domestic industry, nor 
+turn towards a particular employment a greater share of the stock 
+
+
+
+and labour of the country, than what would naturally go to it. It 
+would only hinder any part of what would naturally go to it from 
+being turned away by thetax into a lessnatural direction, and would 
+leave thecompetition between foreign and domestic industry, after 
+thetax, as nearly as possible upon the same footing as before it. In 
+G reat Britain, when any such tax is laid upon the produce of do- 
+mestic industry, it is usual, at the same time, in order to stop the 
+clamorous complaints of our merchants and manufacturers, that 
+they will be undersold at home, to lay a much heavier duty upon 
+the importation of all foreign goods of the same kind. 
+
+This second limitation of the freedom of trade, according to 
+some people, should, upon most occasions, be extended much 
+farther than to the precise foreign commodities which could come 
+into competition with those which had been taxed at home. W hen 
+the necessaries of life have been taxed in any country, it becomes 
+proper, they pretend, to tax not only the like necessaries of life 
+imported from other countries, but all sortsof foreign goods which 
+can come into competition with any thing that isthe produce of 
+domestic industry. Subsistence, they say, becomes necessarily dearer 
+in consequence of such taxes; and the price of labour must always 
+rise with theprice of thelabourer's subsistence. Every commodity, 
+therefore, which isthe produce of domestic industry, though not 
+immediately taxed itself, becomes dearer in consequence of such 
+
+
+
+371 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+taxes, because thelabour which producesit becomes so. Such taxes, 
+therefore, are really equivalent, they say, to a tax upon every par- 
+ticular commodity produced at home. In order to put domestic 
+upon the same footing with foreign industry, therefore, it becomes 
+necessary, they think, to lay some duty upon every foreign com- 
+modity, equal to this enhancement of the price of the home com- 
+modities with which it can come into competition. 
+
+Whether taxes upon the necessaries of life, such asthosein Great 
+Britain upon soap, salt, leather, candles, etc. necessarily raise the 
+price of labour, and consequently that of all other commodities, I 
+shall consider hereafter, when I cometo treat of taxes. Supposing, 
+however, in the mean time, that they have this effect, and they 
+have it undoubtedly, this general enhancement of the price of all 
+commodities, in consequence of that labour, is a case which dif- 
+fers in the two following respects from that of a particular com- 
+modity, of which the price was enhanced by a particular tax im- 
+mediately imposed upon it. 
+
+First, It might always be known with great exactness, how far 
+the price of such a commodity could be enhanced by such a tax; 
+but how far thegeneral enhancement of the priceof labour might 
+affect that of every different commodity about which labour was 
+employed, could never be known with any tolerable exactness. It 
+would be impossible, therefore, to proportion, with any tolerable 
+
+
+
+exactness, thetax of every foreign, to theenhancement of theprice 
+of every home commodity. 
+
+Secondly, Taxesuponthenecessaries of life havenearlythesame 
+effect upon the circumstances of the people as a poor soil and a 
+bad climate. Provisions are thereby rendered dearer, in the same 
+manner as if it required extraordinary labour and expense to raise 
+them. As, in the natural scarcity arising from soil and climate, it 
+would be absurd to direct the people in what manner they ought 
+to employ their capitalsand industry, so is it likewise in the artifi- 
+cial scarcity arising from such taxes. To beleftto accommodate, as 
+well as they could, their industry to their situation, and to find 
+out those employments in which, notwithstanding their 
+unfavourable circumstances, they might have some advantage ei- 
+ther in thehomeor in theforeign market, iswhat, in both cases, 
+would evidently be most for their advantage. To lay a new-tax 
+upon them, because they are already overburdened with taxes, and 
+because they already pay too dear for the necessaries of life, to 
+make them likewisepay too dear for thegreater part of other com- 
+modities, is certainly a most absurd way of making amends. 
+
+Such taxes, when they have grown up to a certain height, are a 
+curse equal to the barrenness of the earth, and the inclemency of 
+theheavens, and yet it isin therichest and most industriouscoun- 
+triesthat they have been most generally imposed. No other coun- 
+
+
+
+372 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+tries could support so great a disorder. As the strongest bodies 
+only can live and enjoy health under an unwholesomeregimen, so 
+the nations only, that in every sort of industry have the greatest 
+natural and acquired advantages, can subsist and prosper under 
+such taxes H olland isthe country in Europein which they abound 
+most, and which, from peculiar circumstances, continuesto pros- 
+per, not by means of them, as has been most absurdly supposed, 
+but in spite of them. 
+
+As there are two cases in which it will generally be advantageous 
+to lay some burden upon foreign for the encouragement of do- 
+mestic industry, so there are two others in which it may some- 
+times be a matter of deliberation, in the one, how far it is proper 
+to continuethefree importation of certain foreign goods; and, in 
+theother, how far, or in what manner, it may beproper to restore 
+that free importation, after it has been for sometime interrupted. 
+
+Thecasein which it may sometimes beamatter of deliberation 
+how far it is proper to continue the free importation of certain 
+foreign goods, is when someforeign nation restrains, by high du- 
+tiesor prohibitions, theimportation of someof our manufactures 
+into their country. Revenge, in thiscase, naturally dictates retalia- 
+tion, and that we should impose the like duties and prohibitions 
+upon the importation of some or all of their manufactures into 
+ours. N ations, accordingly, seldom fail to retaliate in this manner. 
+
+
+
+The French have been particularly forward to favour their own 
+manufactures, by restrainingtheimportation of such foreign goods 
+as could come into competition with them. In this consisted a 
+great part of the policy of M r Colbert, who, notwithstanding his 
+great abilities, seems in this case to have been imposed upon by 
+the sophistry of merchants and manufacturers, who are always 
+demanding a monopoly against their countrymen. It isat present 
+theopinion of the most intelligent men in France, that hisopera- 
+tions of this kind have not been beneficial to his country. That 
+minister, by the tariff of 1667, imposed very high duties upon a 
+great number of foreign manufactures. Upon hisrefusingto mod- 
+erate them in favour of the Dutch, they, in 1671, prohibited the 
+importation of the wines, brandies, and manufactures of France. 
+The war of 1672 seems to have been in part occasioned by this 
+commercial dispute. T he peace of N imeguen put an end to it in 
+1678, by moderating someof thosedutiesin favour of theDutch, 
+who in consequence took off their prohibition. It was about the 
+sametimethat the French and English began mutually to oppress 
+each other's industry, bythelikedutiesand prohibitions, of which 
+theFrench, however, seem to have set thefirstexample, Thespirit 
+of hostility which has subsisted between thetwo nationsever since, 
+has hitherto hindered them from being moderated on either side. 
+I n 1697, the Ehglish prohibited the importation of bonelace, the 
+
+
+
+373 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+manufacture of Flanders. T he govern merit of that country, at that 
+time under thedominion of Spain, prohibited, in return, the im- 
+portation of English woollens. In 1700, the prohibition of im- 
+porting bone lace into England was taken oft; upon condition 
+that the importation of English woollens into Flanders should be 
+put on the same footing as before. 
+
+There may be good policy in retaliations of this kind, when 
+there is a probability that they will procure the repeal of the high 
+duties or prohibitions complained of. T he recovery of a great for- 
+eign market will generally more than compensate the transitory 
+inconveniency of paying dearer during a short time for some sorts 
+of goods. To judge whether such retaliationsare likely to produce 
+such an effect, doesnot, perhaps, belong so much to thescienceof 
+a legislator, whose deliberations ought to be governed by general 
+principles, which are always the same, astotheskill of that insidi- 
+ous and crafty animal vulgarly called a statesman or politician, 
+whose councils are directed by the momentary fluctuations of af- 
+fairs. When there is no probability that any such repeal can be 
+procured, itseemsabad method of com pen sating the injury done 
+to certain classes of our people, to do another injury ourselves, 
+not only to those classes, but to almost all the other classes of 
+them. W hen our neighbours prohibit some manufacture of ours, 
+we generally prohibit, not only the same, for that alone would 
+
+
+
+seldom affect them considerably, but some other manufacture of 
+theirs. This may, no doubt, give encouragement to some particu- 
+lar class of workmen among ourselves, and, by excluding some of 
+their rivals, may enablethem to raise their pricein the homemar- 
+ket. Those workmen however, who suffered by our neighbours 
+prohibition, will not be benefited by ours. On the contrary, they, 
+and almost all the other classes of our citizens, will thereby be 
+obliged to pay dearer than before for certain goods. Every such 
+law, therefore, imposes a real tax upon the whole country, not in 
+favour of that particular class of workmen who were injured by 
+our neighbours prohibitions, but of some other class. 
+
+Thecasein which itmay sometimes beamatter of deliberation, 
+how far, or in what manner, it is proper to restore the free impor- 
+tation of foreign goods, after it has been forsometimeinterrupted, 
+is when particular manufactures, by means of high duties or pro- 
+hibitions upon all foreign goods which can come into competi- 
+tion with them, have been so far extended as to employ a great 
+multitude of hands. Humanity may in this case require that the 
+freedom of trade should be restored only by slow gradations, and 
+with a good deal of reserve and circumspection. Were those high 
+duties and prohibitions taken away all at once, cheaper foreign 
+goods of the same kind might be poured so fast into the home 
+market, as to deprive all at once many thousands of our people of 
+
+
+
+374 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+their ordinary employment and means of subsistence. The disor- 
+der which this would occasion might no doubt be very consider- 
+able. It would in all probability, however, be much less than is 
+commonly imagined, for the two following reasons. 
+
+First, All those manufactures of which any part is commonly 
+exported to other European countries without a bounty, could be 
+very little affected by the freest importation of foreign goods. Such 
+manufactures must be sold as cheap abroad as any other foreign 
+goods of the same quality and kind, and consequently must be 
+sold cheaper at home. They would still, therefore, keep possession 
+of the home market; and though acapriciousman of fashion might 
+sometimes prefer foreign wares, merely because they were foreign, 
+to cheaper and better goods of the same kind that were made at 
+home, thisfolly could, from the natureof things, extend to so few, 
+that it could make no sensible impression upon the general em- 
+ployment of thepeople. But a great part of all thedifferent branches 
+of our woollen manufacture, of our tanned leather, and of our 
+hardware, are annually exported to other European countries with- 
+out anybounty, and these are themanufactureswhich employ the 
+greatest number of hands. The silk, perhaps, is the manufacture 
+which would suffer the most by this freedom of trade, and after it 
+the linen, though the latter much less than theformer. 
+
+Secondly, Though a great number of people should, by thus 
+
+
+
+restoring the freedom of trade, be thrown all at once out of their 
+ordinary employment and common method of subsistence, it 
+would by no means follow that they would thereby be deprived 
+either of employment or subsistence. By the reduction of the army 
+and navy at the end of the late war, more than 100,000 soldiers 
+and seamen, a number equal to what is employed in the greatest 
+manufactures, were all at once thrown out of their ordinary em- 
+ployment: but though they no doubt suffered someinconveniency, 
+they werenot thereby deprived of all employment and subsistence. 
+The greater part of the seamen, it is probable, gradually betook 
+themselves to the merchant service as they could find occasion, 
+and in themean time both they and thesoldiers were absorbed in 
+the great mass of the people, and employed in a great variety of 
+occupations. N ot only no great convulsion, but no sensibledisor- 
+der, arose from so great a change in the situation of more than 
+100,000 men, all accustomed to the use of arms, and many of 
+them to rapine and plunder. The number of vagrants was scarce 
+anywhere sensibly increased by it; even the wages of labour were 
+not reduced by it in any occupation, so far as I have been ableto 
+learn, except in that of seamen in the merchant service. But if we 
+compare together the habits of a soldier and of any sort of manu- 
+facturer, we shall find that those of the latter do not tend so much 
+to disqualify him from being employed in a new trade, asthoseof 
+
+
+
+375 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+the former from being employed in any. The manufacturer has 
+always been accustomed to lookforhissubsistencefrom hislabour 
+only; thesoldier to expect it from his pay. Application and indus- 
+try have been familiar to the one; idleness and dissipation to the 
+other. But it is surely much easier to change the direction of in- 
+dustry from one sort of labour to another, than to turn idleness 
+and dissipation to any. To the greater part of manufactures, be- 
+sides, it has already been observed, there are other collateral manu- 
+factures of so similar a nature, that a workman can easily transfer 
+hisindustry from oneof them to another. Thegreater part of such 
+workmen, too, are occasionally employed in country labour. The 
+stock which employed them in a particular manufacture before, 
+will still remain in the country, to employ an equal number of 
+people in some other way. The capital of the country remaining 
+the same, the demand for labour will likewise be the same, or very 
+nearly the same, though it may be exerted in different places, and 
+for different occupations. Soldiers and seamen, indeed, when dis- 
+charged from the king's service, are at liberty to exercise any trade 
+within any town or pi ace of Great Britain or Ireland. Letthesame 
+natural liberty of exercising what species of industry they please, 
+be restored to all his M ajesty's subjects, in thesame manner as to 
+soldiers and seamen; that is, break down the exclusive privileges of 
+corporations, and repeal the statute of apprenticeship, both which 
+
+
+
+are really encroachments upon natural Liberty, and add to those the 
+repeal of the law of settlements, so that a poor workman, when 
+thrown out of employment, either in onetradeorin oneplace, may 
+seek for it in another trade or in another place, without the fear 
+either of a prosecution or of a removal; and neither the public nor 
+theindividuals will suffer much more from the occasional disband- 
+ing some particular classes of manufacturers, than from that of the 
+soldiers. ur manufacturers have no doubt great merit with their 
+country, but they cannot have more than those who defend it with 
+their blood, nor deserve to be treated with moredelicacy 
+
+To expect, indeed, that thefreedom of trade should ever be en- 
+tirely restored in Great Britain, is as absurd as to expect that an 
+Oceana or Utopia should ever be established in it. Not only the 
+prejudicesof thepublic, but, what is much more unconquerable, 
+the private interests of many individuals, irresistibly oppose it. 
+Were the officers of the army to oppose, with the same zeal and 
+unanimity, any reduction in the number of forces, with which 
+master manufacturers set themselves against every law that is likely 
+to increase the number of their rivals in the home market; were 
+the former to animate their soldiers. In the same manner as the 
+latter inflametheir workmen, to attack with violence and outrage 
+the proposers of any such regulation; to attempt to reduce the 
+army would be as dangerous as it has now become to attempt to 
+
+
+
+376 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+diminish, in any respect, the monopoly which our manufacturers 
+have obtained against us. This monopoly has so much increased 
+the number of some particular tribes of them, that, like an over- 
+grown standing army, they have become formidable to the gov- 
+ernment, and, upon many occasions, intimidate the legislature. 
+The member of parliament who supports every proposal for 
+strengthening this monopoly, issureto acquire not only the repu- 
+tation of understanding trade, but great popularity and influence 
+with an order of men whose numbers and wealth render them of 
+great importance. If he opposes them, on the contrary, and still 
+more, if he has authority enough to be able to thwart them, nei- 
+ther the most acknowledged probity, nor the highest rank, northe 
+greatest public services, can protect him from the most infamous 
+abuse and detraction, from personal insults, nor sometimes from 
+real danger, arising from the insolent outrage of furious and dis- 
+appointed monopolists. 
+
+T he undertaker of a great manufacture, who, by the home mar- 
+kets being suddenly laid open to the competition of foreigners, 
+should be obliged to abandon his trade, would no doubt suffer 
+very considerably. That part of his capital which had usually been 
+employed in purchasing materials, and in paying his workmen, 
+might, without much difficulty, perhaps, find another employ- 
+ment; but that part of it which was fixed in workhouses, and in 
+
+
+
+the instruments of trade, could scarce be disposed of without con- 
+siderable loss. The equitable regard, therefore, to his interest, re- 
+quires that changes of this kind should never be introduced sud- 
+denly, but slowly, gradually, and after a very long warning. The 
+legislature, were it possible that its deliberations could be always 
+directed, not by the clamorous importunity of partial interests, 
+but by an extensive view of the general good, ought, upon this 
+very account, perhaps, to be particularly careful, neither to estab- 
+lish any new monopolies of this kind, nor to extend further those 
+which are already established. Every such regulation introduces 
+some degree of real disorder into the constitution of the state, 
+which it will be difficult afterwards to cure without occasioning 
+another disorder. 
+
+How far it may beproperto impose taxes upon the importation 
+of foreign goods, in order not to prevent their importation, but to 
+raise a revenue for government, I shall consider hereafter when I 
+come to treat of taxes. Taxes imposed with a view to prevent, or 
+even to diminish importation, are evidently as destructive of the 
+revenue of the customs as of the freedom of trade. 
+
+
+
+377 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III 
+
+OFTHE EXTRAORDINARY RESTRAINTS 
+UPON THE IMPORTATION OFGOODS 
+OF ALMOST ALL KINDS, FROM THOSE 
+COUNTRIESWITH WHICH THE BAL- 
+ANCE IS SUPPOSED TO BE DISADVAN- 
+TAGEOUS 
+
+Part I — Of the Unreasonableness of those Restraints, even 
+upon the- Principles of the Commercial System. 
+
+To lay extraordinary restraints upon the importation of goods 
+of almost all kinds, from those particular countries with which 
+the balance of trade is supposed to be disadvantageous, is the sec- 
+ond expedient by which the commercial system proposes to in- 
+crease thequantity of gold and silver. Thus, in Great Britain, Silesia 
+lawnsmaybeimportedforhomeconsumption, upon paying cer- 
+tain duties; but French cambrics and lawns are prohibited to be 
+imported, except into the port of London, thereto be warehoused 
+for exportation. H igher duties are imposed upon the wines of 
+France than upon thoseof Portugal, or indeed of any other coun- 
+try. By what is called the impost 1692, a duty of five and -twenty 
+
+
+
+per cent, of the rate or value, was laid upon all French goods; 
+while the goods of other nations were, the greater part of them, 
+subjected to much lighter duties, seldom exceeding five per cent. 
+The wine, brandy, salt, and vinegar of France, were indeed ex- 
+cepted; these commodities being subjected to other heavy duties, 
+either by other laws, or by particular clauses of the same law. I n 
+1696, a second duty of twenty-five per cent, the first not having 
+been thought a sufficient discouragement, was imposed upon all 
+French goods, except brandy; together with a new duty of five- 
+and-twenty pounds upon the ton of French wine, and another of 
+fifteen pounds upon theton of French vinegar. French goods have 
+never been omitted in any of those general subsidies or duties of 
+five per cent, which have been imposed upon all, or the greater 
+part, of the goods enumerated in the book of rates. If we count 
+the one-third and two-third subsidies as making a complete sub- 
+sidy between them, therehavebeen fiveof these general subsidies; 
+so that, before the commencement of the present war, seventy- 
+five per cent, may be considered as the lowest duty to which the 
+greater part of the goods of the growth, produce, or manufacture 
+of France, were liable. But upon the greater part of goods, those 
+duties are equivalent to a prohibition. The French, in their turn, 
+have, I believe, treated our goods and manufacturesjust as hardly; 
+though I am not so well acquainted with the particular hardships 
+
+
+
+378 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+which they have imposed upon them. Those mutual restraints 
+have put an end to almost all fair commerce between the two 
+nations; and smugglers are now the principal importers, either of 
+British goods into France, or of French goods into Great Britain. 
+The principles which I have been examining, in the foregoing 
+chapter, took their origin from private interest and the spirit of 
+monopoly; those which I am going te examine in this, from na- 
+tional prejudice and animosity. They are, accordingly, as might 
+well be expected, still more unreasonable. They are so, even upon 
+the principles of the commercial system. 
+
+First, Though it were certain that in the case of a free trade 
+between France and England, for example, the balance would be 
+in favour of France, it would by no meansfollow that such a trade 
+would bedisadvantageousto England, or that the general balance 
+of its wholetrade would thereby be turned more against it. If the 
+wines of France are better and cheaper than those of Portugal, or 
+its linensthan those of Germany, it would be more advantageous 
+for Great Britain to purchase both the wine and theforegn linen 
+which it had occasion for of France, than of Portugal and Ger- 
+many. Though thevalue of theannual importations from France 
+would thereby be greatly augmented, the value of the whole an- 
+nual importations would be diminished, in proportion as the 
+French goods of the same quality were cheaper than those of the 
+
+
+
+other two countries. This would be the case, even upon the sup- 
+position that the whole French goods imported were to be con- 
+sumed in Great Britain. 
+
+But, Secondly, A great part of them might be re-exported to 
+other countries, where, being sold with profit, they might bring 
+back a return, equal in value, perhaps, to the prime cost of the 
+whole French goods imported. What has frequently been said of 
+the East India trade, might possibly be true of the French; that 
+though thegreater part of East India goods were bought with gold 
+and silver, the re-exportation of a part of them to other countries 
+brought back more gold and silver to that which carried on the 
+trade, than the prime cost of the whole amounted to. ne of the 
+most important branches of the D utch trade at present, consists 
+in thecarriageof French goodsto other European countries. Some 
+part even of the French wine drank in Great Britain, is clandes- 
+tinely imported from Holland and Zealand. If there was either a 
+free trade between France and England, or if French goodscould 
+be imported upon paying only the same duties as those of other 
+European nations, to be drawn back upon exportation, England 
+might have some share of a trade which isfound so advantageous 
+to Holland. 
+
+Thirdly, and lastly, There is no certain criterion by which we 
+can determine on which side what is called the balance between 
+
+
+
+379 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+any two countries lies, or which of them exports to the greatest 
+value. National prejudice and animosity, prompted always by the 
+private interest of particular traders, are theprinci pies which gener- 
+ally direct our judgment upon all questionsconcerning it. There are 
+two criterions, however, which have frequently been appealed to 
+upon such occasions, the custom-house books and the course of 
+exchange. The custom-house books, I think, it is now generally ac- 
+knowledged, are a very uncertain criterion, on account of the inac- 
+curacy of the valuation at which the greater part of goods are rated 
+in them. T he course of exchange is, perhaps, almost equally so. 
+
+W hen the exchange between two places, such as London and 
+Paris, is at par, it is said to be a sign that the debts due from Lon- 
+don to Paris are compensated by those duefrom Paristo London. 
+n the contrary, when a premium is paid at London for a bill 
+upon Paris, it is said to be a sign that the debts due from London 
+to Paris are not compensated by those due from Paris to London, 
+but that a balance in money must be sent out from thelatter place; 
+for the risk, trouble, and expense, of exporting which, the pre- 
+mium isboth demanded and given. But theordinary state of debt 
+and credit between those two cities must necessarily be regulated, 
+it is said, by the ordinary course of their dealings with one an- 
+other. W hen neither of them imports from from other to a greater 
+amountthan it exports to that other, thedebtsand creditsof each 
+
+
+
+maycompensateoneanother. But when oneof them importsfrom 
+theother to a greater valuethan it exportsto that other, theformer 
+necessarily becomes indebted to the latter in a greater sum than 
+thelatter becomes indebted to it: thedebtsand creditsof each do 
+not compensate one another, and money must be sent out from 
+that place of which the debts overbalance the credits. The ordi- 
+nary course of exchange, therefore, being an indication of the or- 
+dinary state of debt and credit between two places, must likewise 
+be an indication of the ordinary course of their exports and im- 
+ports, as these necessarily regulate that state. 
+
+But though the ordinary course of exchange shall be allowed to 
+be a sufficient indication of the ordinary state of debt and credit 
+between any two places, it would not from thence follow, that the 
+balance of trade was in favour of that place which had the ordi- 
+nary state of debt and credit in its favour. T he ordinary state of 
+debt and credit between any two places isnot always entirely regu- 
+lated by the ordinary course of their dealings with one another, 
+but isoften influenced bythatof thedealings of either with many 
+other places. If it is usual, for example, for the merchants of En- 
+gland to pay for the goods which they buy of H amburg, Dantzic, 
+Riga, etc. by bills upon H olland, the ordinary state of debt and 
+credit between England and Holland will not be regulated en- 
+tirely by theordinary course of thedealingsof those two countries 
+
+
+
+380 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+with one another, but will be influenced bythatofthedealingsin 
+England with thoseother places. England maybeobligedtosend 
+out every year money to H olland, though its annual exports to 
+that country may exceed very much the annual value of its im- 
+ports from thence, and though what is called the balance of trade 
+may be very much in favour of England. 
+
+In the way, besides, in which the par of exchange has hitherto 
+been computed, the ordinary course of exchange can afford no 
+sufficient indication that theordinary state of debt and credit isin 
+favour of that country which seems to have, or which is supposed 
+to have, theordinary course of exchangein its favour; or, in other 
+words, the real exchange may be, and in fact often is, so very dif- 
+ferent from the computed one, that, from the course of the latter, 
+no certain conclusion can, upon many occasions, bedrawn con- 
+cerning that of the former. 
+
+W hen for a sum or money paid in England, containing, accord- 
+ing to the standard of theEnglish mint, acertain number of ounces 
+of pure silver, you receive a bill for a sum of money to be paid in 
+France, containing, according to the standard of the French mint, 
+an equal number of ounces of pure silver, exchange is said to beat 
+par between England and France. When you pay more, you are 
+supposed to give a premium, and exchange is said to be against 
+England, and in favour of France. When you pay less, you are 
+
+
+
+supposed to get a premium, and exchange is said to be against 
+France, and in favour of England. 
+
+But, first, We cannot always judge of the value of the current 
+money of different countries by the standard of their respective 
+mints. In some it is more, in others it is less worn, dipt, and oth- 
+erwise degenerated from that standard. But the value of the cur- 
+rent coin of every country, compared with that of any other coun- 
+try, is in proportion, not to the quantity of pure silver which it 
+ought to contain, but to that which it actually does contain. Be- 
+fore the reformation of the silver coin in King William's time, 
+exchange between England and Holland, computed in the usual 
+manner, according to the standard of their respective mints, was 
+five-and twenty per cent, against England. But the value of the 
+current coin of England, as we learn from M r Lowndes, was at 
+that time rather more than five-and-twenty per cent, below its 
+standard value.Thereal exchange, therefore, may even at that time 
+have been in favour of England, notwithstanding the computed 
+exchange was so much against it; a smaller number or ounces of 
+pure silver, actually paid in England, may have purchased a bill 
+for a greater number of ounces of pure silver to be paid in H ol- 
+land, and the man who was supposed to give, may in reality have 
+got the premium. The French coin was, before the late reforma- 
+tion of theEnglish gold coin, much less wore than theEnglish, 
+
+
+
+381 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+and was perhaps two or three per cent, nearer its standard. If the 
+computed exchange with France, therefore, wasnot more than two 
+or three per cent, against England, the real exchange might have 
+been in its favour. Since the reformation of the gold coin, the ex- 
+change has been constantly in favour of England, and against France. 
+Secondly, In some countries the expense of coinage is defrayed 
+by the government; in others, itisdefrayed by the private people, 
+who carry their bullion to the mint, and the government even 
+derives some revenue from thecoinage. In England it isdefrayed 
+by the government; and if you carry a pound weight of standard 
+silver to the mint, you get back sixty-two shillings, containing a 
+pound weight of the likestandard silver. I n Francea duty of eight 
+percent, is deducted for the coinage, which not only defrays the 
+expense of it, but affords a small revenue to the government. I n 
+England, as the coin age costs nothing, the current coin can never 
+be much morevaluablethan thequantity of bullion which it ac- 
+tually contains. In France, the workmanship, as you pay for it, 
+addstothevalue, in thesamemannerasto that of wrought plate. 
+A sum of French money, therefore, containing an equal weight of 
+pure silver, is more valuable than a sum of English money con- 
+taining an equal weight of pure silver, and must require more bul- 
+lion, or other commodities, to purchase it. Though the current 
+coin of thetwo countries, therefore, wereequally near the standards 
+
+
+
+of their respective mints, a sum of English money could not well 
+purchase a sum of French money containing an equal number of 
+ounces of pure silver, nor, consequently, a bill upon France for such 
+a sum. If, for such a bill, no more additional money was paid than 
+what was sufficient to compensate the expense of the French coin- 
+age, the real exchange might be at par between the two countries; 
+their debts and credits might mutually compensate one another, 
+whilethecomputed exchangewas considerably in favour of France. 
+If less than this was paid, the real exchange might be in favour of 
+England, whilethecomputed was in favour of France. 
+
+Thirdly, and lastly, In someplaces, as at Amsterdam, H amburg, 
+Venice, etc. foreign bills of exchange are paid in what they call 
+bank money; while in others, as at London, Lisbon, Antwerp, 
+Leghorn, etc. they are paid in thecommon currency of the coun- 
+try. What is called bank money, is always of more value than the 
+same nominal sum of common currency. A thousand guilders in 
+the bank of Amsterdam, for example, are of more value than a 
+thousand guildersof Amsterdam currency. The difference between 
+them is called the agio of the bank, which at Amsterdam is gener- 
+ally about five per cent. Supposing the current money of thetwo 
+countries equally near to the standard of their respective mints, 
+and that the one pays foreign billsin thiscommon currency, while 
+the other pays them in bank money, it is evident that the com- 
+
+
+
+382 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+puted exchange may bein favour of that which paysin bank money, 
+though the real exchange should bein favour of that which pays 
+in current money; for the same reason thatthecomputed exchange 
+may bein favour of that which paysin better money, or in money 
+nearer to itsown standard, though the real exchange should bein 
+favour of that which paysin worse. The computed exchange, be- 
+fore the late reformation of the gold coin, was generally against 
+London with Amsterdam, H amburg, Venice, and, I believe, with 
+all other places which pay in what iscalled bank money. It will by 
+no means follow, however, that the real exchange was against it. 
+Since the reformation of the gold coin, it has been in favour of 
+London, even with those places. The computed exchangehas gen- 
+erally been in favour of London with Lisbon, Antwerp, Leghorn, 
+and, if you except France, I believe with most other parts of Eu- 
+rope that pay in common currency; and it is not improbable that 
+the real exchange was so too. 
+
+Digression concerning Banks of Deposit, particularly concern- 
+ing that of Amsterdam. 
+
+T hecurrency of a great state, such as France or E ngland, generally 
+consistsalmost entirely of itsown coin. Should thiscurrency, there 
+fore, be at any time worn, dipt, or otherwise degraded below its 
+
+
+
+standard value, thestate, by a reformation of its coin, can effectu- 
+ally re-establish its currency. But the currency of a small state, 
+such as Genoa or H amburg, can seldom consist altogether in its 
+own coin, but must be made up, in a great measure, of the coins 
+of all the neighbouring states with which its inhabitants have a 
+continual intercourse. Such a state, therefore, by reforming itscoin, 
+will not always be able to reform its currency. If foreign bills of 
+exchange arepaid in thiscurrency, theuncertain valueofanysum, 
+of what is in its own nature so uncertain, must render the ex- 
+change always very much against such a state, its currency being 
+in all foreign states necessarily valued even below what it is worth. 
+I n order to remedy theinconvenience to which thisdisadvanta- 
+geous exchange must have subjected their merchants, such small 
+states, when they began to attend to the interest of trade, have 
+frequently enacted that foreign bills of exchange of a certain value 
+should be paid, not in common currency, but by an order upon, 
+or by a transfer in the books of a certain bank, established upon 
+the credit, and under the protection of thestate, this bank being 
+always obliged to pay, in good and true money, exactly according 
+to the standard of the state. The banks of Venice, Genoa, 
+Amsterdam, H amburg, and N uremberg, seem to have been all 
+originally established with this view, though some of them may 
+have afterwards been made subservient to other purposes. The 
+
+
+
+383 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+money of such banks, being better than the common currency of 
+the country, necessarily bore an agio, which was greater or smaller, 
+according as the currency was supposed to be more or less de- 
+graded below the standard of the state. The agio of the bank of 
+H amburg, for example, which issaid to becommonly about four- 
+teen per cent, is the supposed difference between the good stan- 
+dard money of the state, and the dipt, worn, and diminished cur- 
+rency, poured into it from all the neighbouring states. 
+
+Before 1609, the great quantity of dipt and worn fordgn coin 
+which the extensive trade of Amsterdam broughtfrom all parts of 
+Europe, reduced the value of its currency about nine per cent, 
+below that of good money fresh from the mint. Such money no 
+sooner appeared, than it was mdted down or carried away, as it 
+always is in such circumstances. The merchants, with plenty of 
+currency, could not always find a sufficient quantity of good money 
+to pay thdr bills of exchange; and the value of those bills, in spite 
+of several regulations which were made to prevent it, becamein a 
+great m easu re u n certai n . 
+
+In order to remedy these inconveniences, a bank was estab- 
+lished in 1609, under theguaranteeofthecity.Thisbankrecdved 
+both fordgn coin, and the light and worn coin of the country, at 
+its real intrinsic value in thegood standard money of the country, 
+deducting only so much as was necessary for defraying the ex- 
+
+
+
+pen seof coinage and theother necessary expenseof management. 
+For the value which remained after this small deduction was made, 
+it gave a credit in its books. This credit was called bank money, 
+which, as it represented money exactly according to thestandard of 
+themint, was always of the same real value, and intrinsically worth 
+more than current money. It was at the same time enacted, that all 
+billsdrawn upon or negotiated at Amsterdam, of the value of 600 
+guilders and upwards, should bepaid in bank money, which at once 
+took away all uncertainty in the value of those bills. Every mer- 
+chant, in consequence of this regulation, was obliged to keep an 
+account with thebank, in order to payhisfordgn bills of exchange, 
+which necessarily occasioned a certain demand for bank money. 
+
+Bank money, over and above both its intrinsic superiority to 
+currency, and theadditional valuewhich thisdemand necessarily 
+givesit, haslikewise some other advantages, It is secure from fire, 
+robbery, and other accidents; the city of Amsterdam is bound for 
+it; it can bepaid away by a simple transfer, without the trouble of 
+counting, or the risk of transporting it from one place to another. 
+I n consequence of those different advantages, it seems from the 
+beginning to have borne an agio; and it is generally believed that 
+all the money originally deposited in the bank, was allowed to 
+remain there, nobody caring to demand payment of a debt which 
+he could sdl for a premium in the market. By demanding pay- 
+
+
+
+384 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+merit of the bank, the owner of a bank credit would lose this pre- 
+mium. As a shilling fresh from the mint will buy no more goods 
+in the market than one of our common worn shillings, so the 
+good and true money which might be brought from the coffers of 
+the bank into those of a private person, being mixed and con- 
+founded with the common currency of the country, would be of 
+no more value than that currency, from which it could no longer 
+be readily distinguished. W hile it remained in the coffers of the 
+bank, its superiority was known and ascertained. When it had 
+come into those of a private person, its superiority could not well 
+be ascertained without more trouble than perhaps the difference 
+was worth. By being brought from the coffers of the bank, be- 
+sides, it lost all the other advantages of bank money; its security, 
+its easy and safe transferability, its use in paying foreign bills of 
+exchange. Over and above all this, it could not be brought from 
+those coffers, as will appear by and by, without previously paying 
+for the keeping. 
+
+Those deposits of coin, or those deposits which the bank was 
+bound to restore in coin, constituted the original capital of the 
+bank, or the whole valueof what was represented by what iscalled 
+bank money. At present they are supposed to constitute but a very 
+small part of it. In order to facilitate thetrade in bullion, thebank 
+has been for these manyyearsin the practice of giving credit in its 
+
+
+
+books, upon deposi tsof gold and silver bullion. Thiscredit isgen- 
+erally about five per cent, below the mint price of such bullion. 
+Thebank grants at the same time what iscalled arecipiceor re- 
+ceipt, entitlingtheperson who makes thedeposit, or thebearer, to 
+take out the bullion again at any time within six months, upon 
+transferring to the bank a quantity of bank money equal to that 
+for which credit had been given in its books when the deposit was 
+made, and upon paying one-fourth per cent, for the keeping, if 
+thedeposit was in silver; and one-half per cent, if it was in gold; but 
+at the same time declaring, that in default of such payment, and 
+upon the expiration of thisterm, thedeposit should belong to the 
+bank, at the price at which it had been received, or for which credit 
+had been given in the transfer books. What is thus paid for the 
+keeping of the deposit may be considered as a sort of warehouse 
+rent; and why this warehouse rent should be so much dearer for 
+gold than for silver, several different reasons have been assigned. 
+The fineness of gold, it has been said, is more difficult to be ascer- 
+tained than that of silver. Fraudsare more easily practised, and occa- 
+sion a greater loss in the most precious metal. Silver, besides, being 
+the standard metal, the state, it has been said, wishes to encourage 
+more the making of deposits of silver than those of gold. 
+
+Deposi tsof bullion aremost commonly madewhen the priceis 
+somewhat lower than ordinary, and they are taken out again when 
+
+
+
+385 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+it happensto rise. In Holland themarketpriceof bullion isgener- 
+ally above the mint price, for the same reason that it was so in 
+England before the late reformation of thegold coin. The differ- 
+ence i s sai d to be commonly from about sixto sixteen stiversupon 
+the mark, or eight ounces of silver, of eleven parts of fine and one 
+part alloy. The bank price, or the credit which the bank gives for 
+the deposits of such silver (when made in foreign coin, of which 
+the fineness is well known and ascertained, such as M exico dol- 
+lars), is twenty-two guilders the mark: the mint price is about 
+twenty-three guilders, and the market price is from twenty-three 
+guilders six, to twenty-three guilders sixteen stivers, or from two 
+to three per cent, above the mint price. 
+
+Thefollowing are the prices at which the bank of Amsterdam at 
+present {September 1775} receives bullion and coin of different 
+kinds: 
+
+SILVER 
+
+Mexico dollars 22 Guilders/ mark 
+
+French crowns 22 
+
+English silver coin 22 
+
+Mexico dollars, new coin 21 10 
+
+Ducatoons 3 
+
+Rix-dollars 2 8 
+
+
+
+Bar silver, containing ll-12ths fine silver, 21 Guilders/ mark, 
+and in this proportion down to l-4th fine, on which 5 guilders 
+are given. Finebars, 28 Guilders/ mark. 
+
+GOLD 
+
+Portugal coin 310 Guilders/ mark 
+
+Guineas 310 
+
+Louisd'ors, new 310 
+
+Ditto old 300 
+
+New ducats 4 19 8 per ducat 
+
+Bar or ingot gold is received in proportion to its fineness, com- 
+pared with the above foreign gold coin. Upon fine bars the bank 
+gives 340 per mark. In general, however, something more isgiven 
+upon coin of a known fineness, than upon gold and silver bars, of 
+which thefinen ess cannot be ascertained but by a process of melt- 
+ing and assaying. 
+
+The proportions between the bank price, the mint price, and 
+the market price of gold bullion, are nearly the same. A person 
+can generally sell his receipt for the difference between the mint 
+price of bullion and the market price. A receipt for bullion is al- 
+most always worth something, and it very seldom happens, there- 
+fore, that anybody suffers his receipts to expire, or allows his bul- 
+
+
+
+386 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+lion to fall to the bank at the price at which it had been received, 
+either by not taking it out before the end of the six months, or by 
+neglecting to pay one fourth or one half per cent, in order to 
+obtain a new receipt for another six months. T his, however, though 
+it happens seldom, is said to happen sometimes, and more fre- 
+quently with regard to gold than with regard to silver, on account 
+of the higher warehouse rent which is paid for the keeping of the 
+more precious metal. 
+
+Theperson who, by making a deposit of bullion, obtainsboth a 
+bank credit and a receipt, pays his bills of exchange as they be- 
+come due, with his bank credit; and either sells or keeps his re- 
+ceipt, according as he judges that the price of bullion is likely to 
+rise or to fall. The receipt and the bank credit seldom keep long 
+together, and there is no occasion that they should. The person 
+who has a receipt, and who wantsto takeout bullion, findsalways 
+plenty of bank credits, or bank money, to buy at the ordinary 
+price, and theperson who has bank money, and wantsto takeout 
+bullion, finds receipts always in equal abundance. 
+
+The owners of bank credits, and the holders of receipts, consti- 
+tute two different sorts of creditors against the bank. T he holder 
+of a receipt cannot draw out the bullion for which it is granted, 
+without re-assigning to the bank a sum of bank money equal to 
+theprice at which thebullion had been received. If hehasno bank 
+
+
+
+money of his own, he must purchase it of those who have it. T he 
+owner of bank money cannot draw out bullion, without produc- 
+ingto the bank receipts for thequantity which hewants. If hehas 
+noneof hisown, hemust buy them of those who have them. The 
+holder of a receipt, when he purchases bank money, purchasesthe 
+power of taking out a quantity of bullion, of which the mint price 
+is five per cent, above the bank price. T he agio of five per cent, 
+therefore, which hecommonlypaysforit, is paid, not for an imagi- 
+nary, but for a real value. The owner of bank money, when he 
+purchases a receipt, purchasesthe power of taking out a quantity 
+of bullion, of which the market price is commonly from two to 
+three per cent, above the mint price. T he price which he pays for 
+it, therefore, is paid likewiseforareal value. The price of the re- 
+ceipt, and the price of the bank money, compound or make up 
+between them thefull value or price of thebullion. 
+
+U pon depositsof thecoin current in thecountry, thebank grant 
+receipts likewise, as well as bank credits; but those receipts are 
+frequently of novalueand will bring no priceinthemarket. Upon 
+ducatoons, for example, which in the currency pass for three guil- 
+ders three stivers each, the bank gives a credit of three guilders 
+only, or five per cent, below their current value. It grants a receipt 
+likewise, enti tling the bearer to takeout thenumber of ducatoons 
+deposited at any time within six months, upon paying one fourth 
+
+
+
+387 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+per cent, for the keeping. This receipt will frequently bring no 
+price in the market. Three guilders, bank money, generally sell in 
+the market for three guilders three stivers, the full value of the 
+ducatoons, if they were taken out of thebank; and beforetheycan 
+be taken out, one-fourth per cent, must be paid for the keeping, 
+which would be mere loss to the holder of the receipt. If theagio 
+of the bank, however, should at any time fall to three per cent, 
+such receipts might bring some price in the market, and might sell 
+for one and three-fourths per cent. But the agio of the bank being 
+now generally about five per cent, such receipts are frequently al- 
+lowed to expire, or, as they express it, to fall to the bank. The re- 
+ceipts which are given for deposits of gold ducats fall toityetmore 
+frequently, because a higher warehouse rent, or one half per cent, 
+must be paid for the keeping of them, beforetheycan betaken out 
+again. Thefive per cent, which thebank gains, when deposits either 
+of coin or bullion are allowed to fall to it, maybe considered as the 
+warehouse rent for the perpetual keepi ng of such deposits. 
+
+The sum of bank money, for which the receipts are expired, 
+must be very considerable. It must comprehend the whole origi- 
+nal capital of thebank, which, it is generally supposed, has been 
+allowed to remain therefrom the time it was first deposited, no- 
+body caring either to renew his receipt, or to takeout hisdeposit, 
+as, for the reasons already assigned, neither the one nor the other 
+
+
+
+could be done without loss. But whatever may be the amount of 
+thissum,theproportion which itbearstothewholemassof bank 
+money is supposed to be very small. The bank of Amsterdam has, 
+for these many years past, been the great warehouse of E urope for 
+bullion, for which the receipts are very seldom allowed to expire, 
+or, as they express it, to fall to thebank. T hefar greater part of the 
+bank money, or of the credits upon the books of thebank, issup- 
+posed to have been created, for these many years past, by such 
+deposits, which the dealers in bullion are continually both mak- 
+ing and withdrawing. 
+
+N o demand can be made upon the bank, but by means of a 
+recipice or receipt. The smaller mass of bank money, for which 
+the receipts are expired, ismixed and confounded with themuch 
+greater mass for which they are still in force; so that, though there 
+may be a considerable sum of bank money, for which there areno 
+receipts, there is no specific sum or portion of it which may not at 
+any time be demanded by one. The bank cannot bedebtor to two 
+persons for the same thing; and the owner of bank money who 
+has no receipt, cannot demand payment of the bank till he buys 
+one. In ordinary and quiet times, hecan find no difficulty in get- 
+ting oneto buy at the market price, which generally corresponds 
+with the price at which he can sell the coin or bullion it entitles 
+him to take out of the bank. 
+
+
+
+388 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+It might beotherwiseduring a public calamity; an invasion, for 
+example, such as that of the French in 1672. The owners of bank 
+money being then all eager to draw it out of the bank, in order to 
+have it in their own keeping, the demand for receipts might raise 
+their price to an exorbitant height. The holders of them might 
+form extravagant expectations, and, instead of two or three per 
+cent, demand half the bank money for which credit had been 
+given upon the deposits that the receipts had respectively been 
+granted for.Theenemy, informed of the constitution of thebank, 
+might even buy them up, in order to prevent the carrying away of 
+thetreasure. In such emergencies, thebank, it is supposed, would 
+break through its ordinary rule of making payment only to the 
+holders of receipts. The holders of receipts, who had no bank 
+money, must have received within two or three per cent, of the 
+value of the deposit for which their respective receipts had been 
+granted. Thebank, therefore, itissaid, would in thiscasemakeno 
+scruple of paying, either with money or bullion, thefull valueof 
+what the owners of bank money, who could get no receipts, were 
+credited for in its books; paying, at the same time, two or three 
+per cent, to such holders of receipts as had no bank money, that 
+being the whole value which, in this state of things, could justly 
+be supposed due to them. 
+
+Even in ordinary and quiet times, it istheinterest of theholders 
+
+
+
+of receipts to depress the agio, in order either to buy bank money 
+(and consequently the bullion which their receipts would then 
+enable them to take out of thebank) so much cheaper, or to sell 
+their receipts to those who have bank money, and who want to 
+takeout bullion, so much dearer; the price of a receipt being gen- 
+erally equal to the difference between the market price of bank 
+money and that of the coin or bullion for which the receipt had 
+been granted. It istheinterest of the owners of bank money, on 
+the contrary, to raise the agio, in order either to sell their bank 
+money so much dearer, or to buy a receipt so much cheaper. To 
+prevent the stock-jobbing tricks which those opposite interests 
+might sometimes occasion, thebank has of late years cometo the 
+resolution, to sell at all times bank money for currency at five per 
+cent, agio, and to buy it in again at four per cent. agio. I n conse- 
+quenceof thisresolution, theagio can never either rise above five, 
+or sink below four per cent.; and theproportion between themar- 
+ket price of bank and that of current money is kept at all times 
+very near the proportion between their intrinsic values. Before 
+this resolution was taken, the market price of bank money used 
+sometimesto rise so high asnineper cent, agio, and sometimes to 
+sink so low as par, according as opposite interests happened to 
+influence the market. 
+T he bank of Amsterdam professes to lend out no part of what is 
+
+
+
+389 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+deposited with it, but for every guilder for which it gives credit in 
+its books, to keep in its repositories the valueof a guilder either in 
+money or bullion. That itkeepsin its repositories all themoney or 
+bullion for which there are receipts in force for which it is at all 
+times liable to be called upon, and which in reality is continually 
+going from it, and returning to it again, cannot well be doubted. 
+But whether it does so likewise with regard to that part of its capi- 
+tal for which the receipts are long ago expired, for which, in ordi- 
+nary and quiet times, it cannot be called upon, and which, in 
+reality, is very likely to remain with it for ever, or as long as the 
+states of the U nited Provinces subsist, may perhaps appear more 
+uncertain. At Amsterdam, however, no point of faith is better es- 
+tablished than that, for every guilder circulated as bank money, 
+there is a correspondent guilder in gold or silver to be found in the 
+treasures of the bank. T he city is guarantee that it should be so. 
+Thebankisunderthedirection of thefour reigning burgomasters 
+who are changed every year. Each new set of burgomasters visits 
+the treasure, compares it with the books, receives it upon oath, 
+and deli vers it over, with thesameawful solemnity to theset which 
+succeeds; and in that sober and religious country, oaths are not yet 
+disregarded. A rotation of this kind seemsalonea sufficient secu- 
+rity against any practices which cannot be avowed. Amidst all the 
+revolutions which faction has ever occasioned in the government 
+
+
+
+of Amsterdam, the prevailing party has at no time accused their 
+predecessors of infidelity in the administration of the bank. N o 
+accusation could have affected more deeply the reputation and 
+fortune of the disgraced party; and if such an accusation could 
+have been supported, we may be assured that it would have been 
+brought. In 1672, when the French king was at Utrecht, the bank 
+of Amsterdam paid so readily, as left no doubt of thefidelity with 
+which it had observed its engagements. Some of the pieces which 
+were then brought from its repositories, appeared to have been 
+scorched with the fire which happened in the town-house soon 
+after the bank was established. Those pieces, therefore, must have 
+lain therefrom that time. 
+
+What may be the amount of thetreasure in thebank, isa ques- 
+tion which has long employed the speculations of the curious. 
+Nothing but conjecture can be offered concerning it. It is gener- 
+ally reckoned, that there are about 2000 peoplewho keep accounts 
+with thebank; and allowing them to have, one with another, the 
+value of £1500 sterling lying upon their respective accounts (a 
+very large allowance), the wholequantity of bank money, and con- 
+sequently of treasurein thebank, will amountto about £3,000,000 
+sterling, or, at eleven guilders the pound sterling, 33,000,000 of 
+guilders; a great sum, and sufficient to carry on a very extensive 
+circulation, but vastly below the extravagant ideas which some 
+
+
+
+390 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+people have formed of this treasure. 
+
+Thecity of Amsterdam derivesaconsiderablerevenuefrom the 
+bank. Besides what may be called the warehouse rent above men- 
+tioned, each person, upon first opening an account with thebank, 
+paysafeeof ten guilders; and for every new account, three guilder's 
+three stivers; for every transfer, two stivers; and if the transfer isfor 
+less than 300 guilders, six stivers, in order to discourage the mul- 
+tiplicity of small transactions. The per son who neglects to balance 
+his account twice in the year, forfeits twenty-five guilders. The 
+person who orders a transfer for more than isupon hisaccount, is 
+obliged to pay three per cent, for the sum overdrawn, and his 
+order is set aside into the bargain. Thebank is supposed, too, to 
+make a considerable profit by the sale of the foreign coin or bul- 
+lion which sometimes falls to it by the expiring of receipts, and 
+which isalways kept till it can be sold with advantage. Itmakesa 
+profit, likewise, by selling bank money at five per cent, agio, and 
+buying it in at four. These different emoluments amount to a good 
+deal more than what is necessary for paying thesalariesof officers, 
+and defraying the expense of management. W hat is paid for the 
+keeping of bullion upon receipts, is alone supposed to amount to 
+a neat annual revenue of between 150,000 and 200,000 guilders. 
+Public utility, however, and not revenue, was the original object of 
+this institution. Its object was to relieve the merchants from the 
+
+
+
+inconvenienceofadisadvantageousexchange.Therevenuewhich 
+has arisen from it was unforeseen, and may be considered as acci- 
+dental. But it is now timeto return from this long digression, into 
+which I have been insensibly led, in endeavouring to explain the 
+reasons why the exchange between the countries which pay in 
+what is called bank money, and those which pay in common cur- 
+rency, should generally appear to be in favour of the former, and 
+against the latter. The former pay in a species of money, of which 
+the intrinsic value is always the same, and exactly agreeable to the 
+standard of their respective mints; the latter is a species of money, 
+of which the intrinsic value is continually varying, and is almost 
+always more or less below that standard. 
+
+
+
+PART II.— Of theUnreasonablenessofthoseextraordinary 
+Restraints, upon other Principles. 
+
+In theforegoing part of thischapter, I haveendeavouredtoshow, 
+even upon theprinciplesof thecommercial system, how unneces- 
+sary it is to lay extraordinary restraints upon the importation of 
+goods from those countries with which the balance of trade is 
+supposed to be disadvantageous. 
+N othing, however, can bemore absurd than thiswholedoctrine 
+
+
+
+391 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+of the balance of trade, upon which, not only these restraints, but 
+almost all theother regulationsof commerce, are founded. W hen 
+two places trade with oneanother, this doctrine supposes that, if 
+the balance be even, neither of them either loses or gains; but if it 
+leans in any degree to one side, that one of them loses, and the 
+other gains, in proportion to its declension from the exact equi- 
+librium. Both suppositions are false. A trade, which is forced by 
+means of bounties and monopolies, may be, and commonly is, 
+disadvantageous to the country in whose favour it is meant to be 
+established, as I shall endeavour to show hereafter. But that trade 
+which, without force or constraint, is naturally and regularly car- 
+ried on between any two places, is always advantageous, though 
+not always equally so, to both. 
+
+By advantage or gain, I understand, not theincreaseofthequan- 
+tity of gold and silver, but that of the exchangeable value of the 
+annual produce of the land and labour of the country, or the in- 
+crease of the annual revenue of its inhabitants. 
+
+If the balance be even, and if the trade between the two places 
+consist altogether in the exchange of their native commodities, 
+they will, upon most occasions, not only both gain, but they will 
+gain equally, or very nearly equally; each will, in thiscase, afford a 
+market for a part of the surplus produce of the other; each will 
+replace a capital which had been employed in raising and prepar- 
+
+
+
+ing for the market this part of the surplus produce of the other, 
+and which had been distributed among, and given revenue and 
+maintenanceto, a certain number of its inhabitants. Somepartof 
+the inhabitants of each, therefore, will directly derive their rev- 
+enue and maintenance from the other. As the commodities ex- 
+changed, too, are supposed to be of equal value, so the two capi- 
+talsemployed in thetradewill, upon most occasions, be equal, or 
+very nearly equal; and both being employed in raising the native 
+commodities of the two countries, the revenue and maintenance 
+which their distribution will afford to theinhabitantsof each will 
+be equal, or very nearly equal. This revenue and maintenance, 
+thus mutually afforded, will be greater or smaller, in proportion 
+to the extent of their dealings. If these should annually amountto 
+£100,000, for example, or to £1,000,000, on each side, each of 
+them will afford an annual revenue, in theonecase, of £100,000, 
+and, in theother, of £1,000,000, to the inhabitants of theother. 
+If their trade should be of such a nature, that one of them ex- 
+ported to the other nothing but native commodities, while the 
+returns of that other consisted altogether in foreign goods; the 
+balance, in thiscase, would still be supposed even, commodities 
+being paid for with commodities. T hey would, in this case too, 
+both gain, butthey would not gain equally; and theinhabitantsof 
+the country which exported nothing but native commodities, 
+
+
+
+392 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+would derive the greatest revenuefrom thetrade. If England, for 
+example, should import from Francenothing but thenative com- 
+modities of that country, and not having such commodities of its 
+own as were in demand there, should annually repay them by 
+sending thither a large quantity of foreign goods, tobacco, we shall 
+suppose, and East India goods; this trade, though it would give 
+some revenue to the inhabitants of both countries, would give 
+more to those of France than to those of England. The whole 
+French capital annually employed in it would annually bedistrib- 
+uted among the people of France; but that part of the English 
+capital only, which was employed in producing the English com- 
+modities with which those foreign goods were purchased, would 
+be annually distributed among thepeopleof England. Thegreater 
+part of it would replace the capitals which had been employed in 
+Virginia, Indostan, and China, and which had given revenueand 
+maintenance to the inhabitants of those distant countries. If the 
+capitalswereequal, or nearly equal, therefore, this employment of 
+the French capital would augment much more the revenue of the 
+people of France, than that of the English capital would the rev- 
+enue of thepeopleof England. France would, in this case, carry 
+on a direct foreign trade of consumption with England; whereas 
+England would carry on a round-about trade of the same kind 
+with France. The different effects of a capital employed in the 
+
+
+
+direct, and of one employed in the round-about foreign trade of 
+consumption, have already been fully explained. 
+
+Thereisnot, probably, between anytwo countries, atradewhich 
+consists altogether in the exchange, either of native commodities 
+on both sides, or of native commodities on one side, and of for- 
+eign goods on the other. Almost all countries exchange with one 
+another, partly native and partly foreign goodsT hat country, how- 
+ever, in whose cargoes there is the greatest proportion of native, 
+and the least of foreign goods, will always be the principal gainer. 
+
+If it was not with tobacco and East India goods, but with gold 
+and silver, that England paid for the commodities annually im- 
+ported from France, thebalance, in thiscase, would be supposed 
+uneven, commodities not being paid for with commodities, but 
+with gold and silver. The trade, however, would in thiscase, as in 
+theforegoing, give somerevenuetotheinhabitants of both coun- 
+tries, but more to those of France than to those of England. It 
+would give some revenue to those of England. T he capital which 
+had been employed in producingtheEnglish goods that purchased 
+thisgold and silver, thecapital which had been distributed among, 
+and given revenueto, certain inhabitantsof England, would thereby 
+be replaced, and enabled to continuethat employment. The whole 
+capital of England would nomorebediminished by this exporta- 
+tion of gold and silver, than by the exportation of an equal value 
+
+
+
+393 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+of any other goods. n the contrary, it would, in most cases, be 
+augmented. N o goods are sent abroad but those for which the 
+demand is supposed to be greater abroad than at home, and of 
+which the returns, consequently, it is expected, will be of more 
+valueathometh an thecommodities exported. If thetobacco which 
+in England is worth only £100,000, when sent to France, will 
+purchase winewhich isin England worth £110,000, theexchange 
+will augment the capital of England by £10,000. If £100,000 of 
+English gold, in the same manner, purchase French wine, which 
+in England is worth £110,000, this exchange will equally aug- 
+ment the capital of England by £10,000. As a merchant, who has 
+£110,000 worth of wine in hiscellar, isa richer man than hewho 
+has only £100,000 worth of tobacco in his warehouse, so is he 
+likewise a richer man than he who has only £100,000 worth of 
+gold in his coffers. He can put into motion a greater quantity of 
+industry, and give revenue, maintenance, and employment, to a 
+greater number of people, than either of the other two. But the 
+capital of the country is equal to the capital of all its different 
+inhabitants; and the quantity of industry which can be annually 
+maintained in it is equal to what all those different capitals can 
+maintain. Both thecapital of thecountry, therefore, and thequan- 
+tityof industry which can be annually maintained in it, must gen- 
+erally be augmented by this exchange. It would, indeed, be more 
+
+
+
+advantageousfor England that it could purchasethewinesof France 
+with its own hardware and broad cloth, than with either theto- 
+bacco of Virginia, or the gold and silver of Brazil and Peru. A 
+direct foreign trade of consumption is always more advantageous 
+than a round-about one. But a round-about foreign tradeof con- 
+sumption, which is carried on with gold and silver, does not seem 
+to be less advantageous than any other equally round-about one. 
+N either is a country which has no mines, more likely to be ex- 
+hausted of gold and silver by thisannual exportation of those met- 
+als, than one which does not grow tobacco by the like annual 
+exportation of that plant. Asa country which has wherewithal to 
+buy tobacco will never belongin want of it, so neither will onebe 
+long in want of gold and silver which has wherewithal to purchase 
+those metals. 
+
+It is a losing trade, it is said, which a workman carries on with 
+thealehouse; and the trade which a manufacturing nation would 
+naturally carry on with a wine country, may be considered as a 
+trade of the same nature. I answer, that thetrade with thealehouse 
+is not necessarily a losing trade. In its own nature it is just as ad- 
+vantageous as any other, though, perhaps, somewhat more liable 
+to be abused. The employment of a brewer, and even that of a 
+retailer of fermented liquors, are as necessary division's of labour 
+as any other. It will generally be more advantageousfor a work- 
+
+
+
+394 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+man to buy of the brewer the quantity he has occasion for, than to 
+brew it himself; and if he is a poor workman, it will generally be 
+more advantageous for him to buy it by little and little of the 
+retailer, than a large quantity of the brewer. He may no doubt buy 
+too much of either, as he may of any other dealers in his 
+neighbourhood; of the butcher, if he is a glutton; or of the draper, 
+if he affects to be a beau among his companions. It is advanta- 
+geous to the great body of workmen, notwithstanding, that all 
+these trades should befree, though thisfreedom may be abused in 
+all of them, and is more likely to be so, perhaps, in some than in 
+others. Though individuals, besides, may sometimes ruin their 
+fortunesby an excessive consumption of fermented liquors, there 
+seems to be no risk that a nation should do so. Though in every 
+country there aremanypeoplewho spend upon such liquorsmore 
+than they can afford, there are always many more who spend less. 
+It deserves to be remarked, too, that if we consult experience, the 
+cheapness of wineseemsto bea cause, not of drunkenness, but of 
+sobriety. The inhabitants of the wine countries are in general the 
+soberest peopleof Europe; witness theSpaniards, the Italians, and 
+the inhabitants of the southern provinces of France. People are 
+seldom guilty of excess in what is their daily fare. N obody affects 
+the character of liberality and good fellowship, by being profuse 
+of a liquor which is as cheap as small beer. On the contrary, in the 
+
+
+
+countries which, either from excessive heat or cold, produce no 
+grapes, and where wine consequently is dear and a rarity, drunk- 
+enness is a common vice, as among the northern nations, and all 
+those who live between the tropics, the negroes, for example on 
+the coast of Guinea. When a French regiment comes from some 
+of thenorthern provinces of France, where wineissomewhat dear, 
+to be quartered in the southern, where it is very cheap, the sol- 
+diers, I havefrequently heard it observed, are at first debauched by 
+the cheapness and novelty of good wine; but after a few months 
+residence, the greater part of them become as sober as the rest of 
+the inhabitants. Were the duties upon foreign wines, and the ex- 
+cises upon malt, beer, and ale, to be taken away all at once, it 
+might, in the same manner, occasion in Great Britain a pretty 
+general and temporary drunkenness among the middling and in- 
+ferior ranks of people, which would probably be soon followed by 
+a permanent and almost universal sobriety. At present, drunken- 
+ness is by no means the vice of people of fashion, or of those who 
+can easily afford the most expensive liquors. A gentleman drunk 
+with ale has scarce ever been seen among us. The restraints upon 
+the wine trade in Great Britain, besides, do not so much seem 
+calculated to hinder the people from going, if I may say so, to the 
+alehouse, as from going where they can buythebestand cheapest 
+liquor. They favour the wine trade of Portugal, and discourage 
+
+
+
+395 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+that of France. The Portuguese, it is said, indeed, are better custom- 
+ers for our manufactures than the French, and should therefore be 
+encouraged in preference to them. Astheygiveustheircustom, itis 
+pretended we should give them ours. The sneaking arts of under- 
+ling tradesmen are thus erected into political maxims for the con- 
+duct of a great empire; for it is the most underling tradesmen only 
+who make it a rule to employ chiefly their own customers. A great 
+trader purchaseshisgoodsalways where they are cheapest and best, 
+without regard to any little interest of this kind. 
+
+By such maxims as these, however, nations have been taught 
+that their interest consisted in beggaring all their neighbours. Each 
+nation has been made to look with an invidious eye upon the 
+prosperity of all the nations with which it trades, and to consider 
+their gain asitsown loss. Commerce, which ought naturally to be, 
+among nationsas among individuals, a bond of union and friend- 
+ship, has becomethemostfertilesourceof discord and animosity. 
+The capricious ambition of kings and ministers has not, during 
+the present and the preceding century, been more fatal to the re- 
+pose of Europe, than the impertinent jealousy of merchants and 
+manufacturers. The violence and injustice of the rulers of man- 
+kind is an ancient evil, for which, I am afraid, the nature of hu- 
+man affairs can scarce admit of a remedy: but the mean rapacity, 
+the monopolizing spirit, of merchants and manufacturers, who 
+
+
+
+neither are, nor ought to be, the rulers of mankind, though it 
+cannot, perhaps, be corrected, may very easily be prevented from 
+disturbing the tranquillity of anybody but themselves. 
+
+That it was the spirit of monopoly which originally both in- 
+vented and propagated thisdoctrine, cannot bedoubted and they 
+who first taught it, were by no means such fools as they who be- 
+lieved it. In every country it always is, and must be, the interest of 
+the great body of the people, to buy whatever they want of those 
+who sell it cheapest. The proposition is so very manifest, that it 
+seems ridiculous to take any pains to prove it; nor could it ever 
+have been called in question, had not the interested sophistry of 
+merchants and manufacturers confounded the common sense of 
+mankind. Their interest is, in this respect, directly opposite to 
+that of the great body of the people. As it is the interest of the 
+freemen of acorporation to hinder therest of the inhabitants from 
+employingany workmen butthem selves; so itistheinterest of the 
+merchants and manufacturers of every country to secure to them- 
+selves themonopoly of the home market. Hence, in Great Britain, 
+and in most other European countries, the extraordinary duties 
+upon almost all goods imported by alien merchants. H ence the 
+high duties and prohibitionsupon all those foreign manufactures 
+which can come into competition with our own. H ence, too, the 
+extraordinary restraints upon the importation of almost all sorts 
+
+
+
+396 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+of goods from those countries with which the balance of trade is 
+supposed to bedisadvantageous; that is, from those against whom 
+national animosity happens ta be most violently inflamed. 
+
+The wealth of neighbouring nations, however, though danger- 
+ous in war and politics, is certainly advantageous in trade. In a 
+state of hostility, it may enableour enemiesto maintain fleets and 
+armies superior to our own; butin a state of peace and commerce 
+it must likewise en ablethem to exchange with usto a greater value, 
+and to afford a better market, either for the immediate produceof 
+our own industry, or for whatever ispurchased with that produce. 
+As a rich man is likely to be a better customer to the industrious 
+people in his neighbourhood, than a poor, so is likewise a rich 
+nation. A rich man, indeed, who is himself a manufacturer, is a 
+very dangerous neighbour to all those who deal in the same way. 
+All the rest of the neighbourhood, however, by far the greatest 
+number, profit by the good market which hisexpenseaffordsthem. 
+They even profit by his underselling the poorer workmen who 
+deal in the same way with him. T he manufacturers of a rich na- 
+tion, in the same manner, may no doubt be very dangerous rivals 
+to those of their neighbours. This very competition, however, is 
+advantageous to the great body of the people, who profit greatly, 
+besides, by the good market which the great expense of such a 
+nation affordsthem in every other way. Private people, who want 
+
+
+
+to make a fortune, never think of retiring to the remote and poor 
+provinces of the country, but resort either to the capital, or to 
+some of the great commercial towns T hey know, that where little 
+wealth circulates, there is little to be got; but that where a great 
+deal is in motion, some share of it may fall to them. The same 
+maxim which would in this manner direct the common sense of 
+one, or ten, or twenty individuals, should regulate the judgment 
+of one, or ten, or twenty millions, and should make a whole na- 
+tion regard the riches of its neighbours, as a probable cause and 
+occasion for itself to acquire riches. A nation that would enrich 
+itself by foreign trade, is certainly most likely to do so, when its 
+neighbours are all rich, industrious and commercial nations. A 
+great nation, surrounded on all sides by wandering savages and 
+poor barbarians, might, no doubt, acquire riches by the cultiva- 
+tion of its own lands, and by its own interior commerce, but not 
+by foreign trade. It seems to have been in this manner that the 
+ancient Egyptians and the modern Chinese acquired their great 
+wealth. The ancient Egyptians, it is said, neglected foreign com- 
+merce, and the modern Chinese, it is known, hold it in the ut- 
+most contempt, and scarce deign to afford it the decent protec- 
+tion of the laws. The modern maxims of foreign commerce, by 
+aiming at theimpoverishment of all our neighbours, so far as they 
+are capableof producing their intended effect, tend to render that 
+
+
+
+397 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+very commerce insignificant and contemptible. 
+
+It is in consequence of these maxims, that the commerce be- 
+tween France and England has, in both countries, been subjected 
+to so many discouragements and restraints. If those two coun- 
+tries, however, were to consider their real interest, without either 
+mercantilejealousy or national animosity, thecommerceof France 
+might be more advantageous to Great Britain than that of any 
+other country, and, for the same reason, that of Great Britain to 
+France. France is the nearest neighbour to Great Britain. In the 
+trade between the southern coast of England and the northern 
+and north-western coast of France, the returns might be expected, 
+in the same manner as in the inland trade, four, five, or six times 
+in theyear.T he capital, therefore, employed in thistradecould, in 
+each of the two countries, keep in motion four, five, or six times 
+the quantity of industry, and afford employment and subsistence 
+to four, five, or six times the number of people, which all equal 
+capital could do in the greater part of the other branches of for- 
+eign trade. Between the parts of France and Great Britain most 
+remote from one another, the returns might be expected, at least, 
+oncein theyear; and even thistradewould so far beat least equally 
+advantageous, as the greater part of the other branches of our for- 
+eign European trade. It would be, at least, three times more ad- 
+vantageous than theboasted tradewith our N orth American colo- 
+
+
+
+nies, in which the returns were seldom made in less than three 
+years, frequently not in less than four or five years. France, be- 
+sides, issupposed to contain 24,000,000 of inhabitants O ur N orth 
+American colonies were never supposed to contain more than 
+3,000,000; and France is a much richer country than North 
+America; though, on account of the more unequal distribution of 
+riches, there is much more poverty and beggary in the one coun- 
+try than in the other. France, therefore, could afford a market at 
+least eight times more extensive, and, on account of the superior 
+frequency of the returns, four-and-twenty times more advanta- 
+geousthan that which our N orth American colonies ever afforded. 
+Thetradeof Great Britain would bejust as advantageous to France, 
+and, in proportion to the wealth, population, and proximity of 
+therespective countries, would havethesamesuperiority over that 
+which France carries on with her own colonies. Such is the very 
+great difference between that trade which the wisdom of both 
+nations has thought proper to discourage, and that which it has 
+favoured the most. 
+
+But theverysamecircumstances which would have rendered an 
+open and free commerce between the two countries so advanta- 
+geous to both, have occasioned the principal obstructions to that 
+commerce. Being neighbours, they are necessarily enemies, and 
+the wealth and power of each becomes, upon that account, more 
+
+
+
+398 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+formidable to the other; and what would increase the advantage 
+of national friendship, serves only to inflame the violence of na- 
+tional animosity. They are both rich and industrious nations; and 
+the merchants and manufacturers of each dread the competition 
+of theskill and activity of those of the other. M ercantilejealousyis 
+excited, and both inflames, and is itself inflamed, by the violence 
+of national animosity, and the traders of both countries have an- 
+nounced, with all the passionate confidence of interested false- 
+hood, thecertain ruin of each, in consequenceof that unfavourable 
+balance of trade, which, they pretend, would be the infal I ible ef- 
+fect of an unrestrained commerce with the other. 
+
+There is no commercial country in Europe, of which the ap- 
+proaching ruin has not frequently been foretold by the pretended 
+doctors of this system, from all unfavourably balance of trade. 
+After all theanxiety, however, which they have excited about this, 
+after all thevain attempts of almost all trading nationsto turn that 
+balance in their own favour, and against their neighbours, it does 
+not appear that any one nation in Europehasbeen, in anyrespect, 
+impoverished by this cause. Every town and country, on the con- 
+trary, in proportion as they have opened their ports to all nations, 
+instead of being ruined by this free trade, as the principles of the 
+commercial system would lead us to expect, have been enriched 
+by it. Though there are in Europe indeed, a few towns which, in 
+
+
+
+same respects, deserve the name of free ports, there is no country 
+which does so. Holland, perhaps, approaches the nearest to this 
+character of any, though still very remote from it; and H olland, it 
+is acknowledged, not only derives its whole wealth, but a great 
+part of its necessary subsistence, from foreign trade. 
+
+There is another balance, indeed, which has already been ex- 
+plained, very different from the balance of trade, and which, ac- 
+cording as it happensto be either favourableor unfavourable, nec- 
+essarily occasions the prosperity or decay of every nation. This is 
+the balance of the annual produce and consumption. If the ex- 
+changeable value of the annual produce, it has already been ob- 
+served, exceedsthat of the annual consumption, thecapital of the 
+society must annually increase in proportion to this excess. The 
+society in this case lives within its revenue; and what is annually 
+saved out of its revenue, is naturally added to its capital, and em- 
+ployed so as to increase still further the annual produce. If the 
+exchangeable value of the annual produce, on the contrary, fall 
+short of the annual consumption, the capital of the society must 
+annually decay in proportion to this deficiency. The expense of 
+the society, in this case, exceeds its revenue, and necessarily en- 
+croaches upon its capital. Its capital, therefore, must necessarily 
+decay, and, together with it, theexchangeablevalue of the annual 
+produce of its industry. 
+
+
+
+399 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+This balance of produce and consumption is entirely different 
+from what is called the balance of trade. It might take place in a 
+nation which had no foreign trade, but which was entirely sepa- 
+rated from all the world. It may take place in the whole globe of 
+the earth, of which the wealth, population, and improvement, 
+may be either gradually increasing or gradually decaying. 
+
+T hebalanceof produce and consumption may be constantly in 
+favour of a nation, though what is called the balance of trade be 
+generally against it. A nation may import to a greater valuethan it 
+exports for half a century, perhaps, together; the gold and silver 
+which comes into it during all this time, may be all immediately 
+sent out of it; its circulating coin may gradually decay, different 
+sorts of paper money being substituted in its place, and even the 
+debts, too, which it contracts in the principal nations with whom 
+it deals, may be gradually increasing; and yet its real wealth, the 
+exchangeable value of the annual produce of its lands and labour, 
+may, duringthesame period, have been increasing in amuch greater 
+proportion. The state of our North American colonies, and of the 
+trade which they carried on with Great Britain, before the com- 
+mencement of thepresent disturbances, {This paragraph was writ- 
+ten in theyear 1775. }may serve asa proof that this is by no means 
+an impossible supposition. 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV 
+
+OF DRAWBACKS 
+
+M erchantsand manufacturers are not contented with the mo- 
+nopoly of the home market, but desire likewise the most extensive 
+foreign sale for their goods. Their country has no jurisdiction in 
+foreign nations, and therefore can seldom procure them any mo- 
+nopoly there. T hey aregenerally obliged, therefore, to content them- 
+selves with petitioning for certain encouragements to exportation. 
+Of these encouragements, what are called drawbacks seem to be 
+the most reasonable. To allow the merchant to draw back upon 
+exportation, either the whole, or a part of whatever excise or in- 
+land duty is imposed upon domestic industry, can never occasion 
+the exportation of a greater quantity of goods than what would 
+have been exported had no duty been imposed. Such encourage- 
+ments do not tend to turn towards any particular employment a 
+greater share of the capital of the country, than what would goto 
+that employment of its own accord, but only to hinder the duty 
+from driving away any part of that share to other employments. 
+They tend not to overturn that balance which naturally estab- 
+lishes itself among all thevariousemployments of thesociety, but 
+to hinder it from being overturned by the duty. They tend not to 
+
+
+
+400 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+destroy, but to preserve, what it is in most cases advantageous to 
+preserve, the natural division and distribution of labour in the 
+society. 
+
+The same thing may be said of the drawbacks upon there-ex- 
+portation of foreign goods imported, which, in Great Britain, gen- 
+erally amount to by much the largest part of the duty upon im- 
+portation. By the second of the rules, annexed to the act of parlia- 
+ment, which imposed what is now called the old subsidy, every 
+merchant, whether English or alien, was allowed to draw back 
+half that duty upon exportation; the English merchant, provided 
+the exportation took place within twelvemonths; the alien, pro- 
+vided it took place within nine months. Wines, currants, and 
+wrought silks, were the only goods which did not fall within this 
+rule, having other and moreadvantageousallowances.Theduties 
+imposed by this act of parliament were, at that time, the only 
+duties upon the importation of foreign goods. The term within 
+which this, and all other drawbacks could be claimed, was after- 
+wards (by 7 Geo. I. chap. 21. sect. 10.) extended to three years. 
+
+Theduties which have been imposed since theold subsidy, are, 
+the greater part of them, wholly drawn back upon exportation. 
+This general rule, however, is liable to a great number of excep- 
+tions; and thedoctrineofdrawbackshasbecomea much less simple 
+matter than it was at their first institution. 
+
+
+
+Upon the exportation of some foreign goods, of which it was 
+expected thattheimportation would greatly exceed what wasnec- 
+essary for the home consumption, the whole duties are drawn 
+back, without retaining even half theold subsidy. Before the re- 
+volt of our N orth American colonies, wehad the monopoly of the 
+tobacco of M aryland and Virginia. Weimported about ninety-six 
+thousand hogsheads, and the home consumption was not sup- 
+posed to exceed fourteen thousand. To facilitate the great exporta- 
+tion which was necessary, in order to rid us of the rest, the whole 
+duties were drawn back, provided theexportation took placewithin 
+three years. 
+
+We still have, though not altogether, yet very nearly, the mo- 
+nopoly of the sugars of our West I ndian islands. I f sugars are ex- 
+ported within a year, therefore, all the duties upon importation 
+aredrawn back; and if exported within three years, all theduties, 
+except half the old subsidy, which still continues to be retained 
+upon the exportation of the greater part of goods. Though the 
+importation of sugar exceeds a good deal what is necessary for the 
+home consumption, the excess is inconsiderable, in comparison 
+of what it used to be in tobacco. 
+
+Some goods, the particular objects of the jealousy of our own 
+manufacturers, areprohibited to beimported for homeconsump- 
+tion. They may, however, upon paying certain duties,be imported 
+
+
+
+401 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+and warehoused for exportation. But upon such exportation no 
+part of these duties is drawn back. Our manufacturers areunwill- 
+ing, it seems, that even this restricted importation should be en- 
+couraged, and are afraid lest some part of these goods should be 
+stolen out of thewarehouse, and thuscomeinto competition with 
+their own. It is under these regulations only that we can import 
+wrought silks, French cambrics and lawns, calicoes, painted, 
+printed, stained, or dyed, etc. 
+
+We are unwilling even to be the carriers of French goods, and 
+choose rather to forego a profit to ourselves than to suffer those 
+whom weconsiderasourenemiestomakeany profit by our means. 
+N ot only half theold subsidy, but thesecond twenty-five per cent, 
+is retained upon the exportation of all French goods. 
+
+By thefourth of the rules annexed to theold subsidy, the draw- 
+back allowed upon the exportation of all wines amounted to a 
+great deal more than half the duties which were at that time paid 
+upon their importation; and it seemsat that timeto have been the 
+object of the legislature to give somewhat more than ordinary en- 
+couragement to the carrying trade in wine. Several of the other 
+duties, too which wereimposed either at the same time or subse- 
+quent to the old subsidy, what is called the additional duty, the 
+new subsidy, the one-third and two-thirds subsidies, the impost 
+1692, thetonnageon wine, were allowed to be wholly drawn back 
+
+
+
+upon exportation. All thoseduties, however, except theadditional 
+duty and impost 1692, being paid down in ready money upon 
+importation, the interest of so large a sum occasioned an expense, 
+which madeitunreasonableto expect any profitable carrying trade 
+in thisartide. nly apart, therefore of the duty called the impost 
+on wine, and no part of the twenty-five pounds the ton upon 
+French wines, or of the duties imposed in 1745, in 1763, and in 
+1778, were allowed to be drawn back upon exportation. The two 
+imposts of five per cent, imposed in 1779 and 1781, upon all the 
+former duties of customs, being allowed to be wholly drawn back 
+upon the exportation of all other goods, were likewise allowed to 
+be drawn back upon that of wine. The last duty that has been 
+particularly imposed upon wine, that of 1780, is allowed to be 
+wholly drawn back; an indulgence which, when so many heavy 
+duties are retained, most probably could never occasion the ex- 
+portation of a singleton of wine. These rules took place with re- 
+gard to all pi aces of lawful exportation, except the British colonies 
+in America. 
+
+T he 15th C harles 1 1 , chap. 7, called an act for the encourage- 
+ment of trade, had given Great Britain the monopoly of supplying 
+the colonies with all the commodities of the growth or manufac- 
+ture of Europe, and consequently with wines. In a country of so 
+extensive a coast as our N orth American and West Indian colo- 
+
+
+
+402 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+nies, where our authority was always so very slender, and where 
+the inhabitants were allowed to carry out in their own shipstheir 
+non-enumerated commodities, at first to all partsof Europe, and 
+afterwards to all partsof Europe south of CapeFinisterre, itisnot 
+very probable that this monopoly could ever be much respected; 
+and they probably at all times found meansof bringing back some 
+cargo from the countries to which they were allowed to carry out 
+one. They seem, however, to have found some difficulty in im- 
+porting European wines from the places of their growth; and they 
+could not well import them from Great Britain, where they were 
+loaded with many heavy duties, of which a considerable part was 
+not drawn back upon exportation. M adeira wine, not being an 
+European commodity, could be imported directly into America 
+and theWest I ndies, countries which, in all their non-enumerated 
+commodities, enjoyed a free trade to the island of M adeira. These 
+circumstances had probably introduced that general taste for M a- 
+deira wine, which our officers found established in all our colo- 
+nies at the commencement of the war which began in 1755, and 
+which they brought back with them to the mother country, where 
+that winehad not been much in fashion before. U pon thecondu- 
+sion of that war, in 1763 (by the 4th Geo. Ill, chap. 15, sect. 12), 
+all the duties except £3, 10s. were allowed to bedrawn back upon 
+the exportation to the colonies of all wines, except French wines, 
+
+
+
+to the commerce and consumption of which national prejudice 
+would allow no sort of encouragement. The period between the 
+granting of this indulgence and the revolt of our North American 
+colonies, was probably too short to admit of any considerable 
+change in the customs of those countries. 
+
+The same act which, in the drawbacks upon all wines, except 
+French wines, thusfavoured thecoloniesso much more than other 
+countries, in those upon the greater part of other commodities, 
+favoured them much less. Upon the exportation of the greater 
+part of commodities to other countries, half the old subsidy was 
+drawn back. Butthislaw enacted, that no part of that duty should 
+bedrawn back upon the exportation to the colonies of any com- 
+modities of the growth or manufacture either of Europe or the 
+East Indies, except wines, white calicoes, and muslins. 
+
+Drawbacks were, perhaps, originally granted for theencourage- 
+ment of the carrying trade, which, as the freight of the ship is 
+frequently paid by foreigners in money, was supposed to be pecu- 
+liarly fitted for bringing gold and silver into thecountry But though 
+the carrying trade certainly deserves no peculiar encouragement, 
+though the motive of the institution was, perhaps, abundantly 
+foolish, the institution itself seemsreasonableenough. Such draw- 
+backs cannot force into this trade a greater share of the capital of 
+the country than what would have gone to it of its own accord, 
+
+
+
+403 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+had there been no duties upon importation; they only prevent its 
+being excluded altogether by those duties. The carrying trade, 
+though it deserves no preference, ought not to be precluded, but 
+to be left free, like all other trades. It is a necessary resource to 
+those capitals which cannot find employment, either in the agri- 
+culture or in the manufactures of the country, either in its home 
+trade, or in its foreign trade of consumption. 
+
+The revenue of the customs, instead of suffering, profits from 
+such drawbacks, by that part of the duty which is retained. I f the 
+whole duties had been retained, the foreign goods upon which 
+they are paid could seldom have been exported, nor consequently 
+imported, for want of a market. The duties, therefore, of which a 
+part is retained, would never have been paid. 
+
+These reasonsseem sufficiently to justify drawbacks, and would 
+justify them, though thewholeduties, whether upon theproduce 
+of domestic industry or upon foreign goods, were always drawn 
+back upon exportation. The revenue of excise would, in this case 
+indeed, suffer a little, and that of the customs a good deal more; 
+but the natural balance of industry, the natural division and dis- 
+tribution of labour, which isalwaysmoreor lessdisturbed by such 
+duties, would be more nearly re-established by such a regulation. 
+
+These reasons, however, will justify drawbacks only upon ex- 
+porting goodsto those countries which are altogether foreign and 
+
+
+
+independent, nottothosein which our merchants and manufac- 
+turers enjoy a monopoly. A drawback, for example, upon the ex- 
+portation of European goodsto our American colonies, will not 
+always occasion a greater exportation than what would have taken 
+placewithoutit. By meansofthemonopoly which our merchants 
+and manufacturers enjoy there, thesamequantity might frequently, 
+perhaps, be sent thither, though the whole duties were retained. 
+T he drawback, therefore, may frequently be pure loss to the rev- 
+enueof excise and customs, without altering the state of the trade, 
+or rendering it in any respect more extensive. H ow far such draw- 
+backs can be justified as a proper encouragement to the industry 
+of our colonies, or how far it is advantageous to the mother coun- 
+try that they should be exempted from taxes which are paid by all 
+therestof their fellow-subjects, will appear hereafter, when I come 
+to treat of colonies. 
+
+D rawbacks, however, it must always be understood, are useful 
+only in those cases in which the goods, for the exportation of 
+which they are given, are really exported to someforeign country, 
+and not clandestinely re-imported into our own. That somedraw- 
+backs, particularly thoseupon tobacco, havefrequently been abused 
+in this manner, and have given occasion to many frauds, equally 
+hurtful both to the revenue and to the fair trader, is well known. 
+
+
+
+404 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+CHAPTERV 
+
+OF BOUNTIES 
+
+Bounties upon exportation are, in Great Britain, frequently pe- 
+titioned for, and sometimes granted, to the produce of particular 
+branches of domestic industry. By means of them, our merchants 
+and manufacturers, it is pretended, will be enabled to sell their 
+goods as cheap or cheaper than their rivals in theforeign market. 
+A greater quantity, it issaid, will thusbe exported, and thebalance 
+of trade consequently turned morein favour of our own country. 
+We cannot give our workmen a monopoly in the foreign, as we 
+havedonein the home market. Wecannot force foreigners to buy 
+their goods, as we have done our own countrymen. The next best 
+expedient, it has been thought, therefore, is to pay them for buy- 
+ing. It is in this manner that the mercantile system proposes to 
+enrich the whole country, and to put money into all our pockets, 
+by means of the balance of trade. 
+
+Bounties, it is allowed, ought to be given to those branches of 
+trade only which cannot be carried on without them. But every 
+branch of trade in which the merchant can sell his goods for a 
+price which replaces to him, with theordinary profitsof stock, the 
+whole capital employed in preparing and sending them to mar- 
+
+
+
+ket, can be carried on without a bounty. Every such branch is 
+evidently upon a level with all theotherbranchesoftradewhich are 
+carried on without bounties, and cannot, therefore, requireonemore 
+than they. Those trades only require bounties, in which the mer- 
+chant is obliged to sell his goods for a price which does not replace 
+to him hiscapital, together with theordinary profit, or in which he 
+isobliged to sell them for lessthan it really cost him to send them to 
+market. The bounty is given in order to makeup this loss, and to 
+encourage him to continue, or, perhaps, to begin a trade, of which 
+the expense is supposed to be greater than the returns, of which 
+every operation eats up a part of the capital employed in it, and 
+which isof such a nature, that if all other trades resembled it, there 
+would soon be no capital left in the country. 
+
+The trades, it is to be observed, which are carried on by means 
+of bounties, are the only ones which can be carried on between 
+two nationsfor any considerabletime together, in such a manner 
+asthatoneof them shall alway'sand regularly lose, or sell its goods 
+for lessthan it really cost to send them to market. Butif thebounty 
+did not repay to themerchant what hewouldotherwiseloseupon 
+the price of his goods, hisown interest would soon obligehim to 
+employ his stock in another way, or to find out a trade in which 
+the price of the goods would replace to him, with the ordinary 
+profit, thecapital employed in sending them to market. The effect 
+
+
+
+405 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+of bounties, like that of all the other expedients of the mercantile 
+system, can only be to force the trade of a country into a channel 
+much lessadvantageousthan that in which it would naturally run 
+of its own accord. 
+
+Theingeniousand well-informed author of theTractsupon the 
+Corn Trade has shown very clearly, that since thebounty upon the 
+exportation of corn was first established, the price of the corn 
+exported, valued moderately enough, has exceeded that of thecorn 
+imported, valued very high, by a much greater sum than the 
+amount of the whole bounties which have been paid during that 
+peri od. This, heimagines, upon thetrueprinciplesofthemercan- 
+tilesystem, isa clear proof that thisforced corn trade is beneficial 
+to the nation, the value of the exportation exceeding that of the 
+importation by a much greater sum than the whole extraordinary 
+expense which the public has been at in order to get it exported. 
+H edoesnot consider that this extraordinary expense, or thebounty, 
+is the smallest part of the expense which the exportation of corn 
+really costs the society. The capital which the farmer employed in 
+raising it must likewise betaken intotheaccount. Unlesstheprice 
+of thecorn, when sold in the foreign markets, replaces not only 
+the bounty, but this capital, together with the ordinary profits of 
+stock, the society isa loser by the difference, or the national stock 
+issomuch diminished. But the very reason for which it has been 
+
+
+
+thought necessary to grant a bounty, isthesupposed insufficiency 
+of the price to do this. 
+
+The average price of corn, it has been said, has fallen consider- 
+ably since the establishment of the bounty. T hat the average price 
+of corn began to fall somewhat towards the end of the last cen- 
+tury, and has continued to do so during the course of the sixty- 
+four first years of the present, I have already endeavoured to show. 
+But this event, supposing it to be real, as I believe it to be, must 
+have happened in spite of the bounty, and cannot possibly have 
+happened in consequence of it. It has happened in France, as well 
+as in England, though in France there was not only no bounty, 
+but, till 1764, the exportation of corn was subjected to a general 
+prohibition. This gradual fall in the average price of grain, it is 
+probable, therefore, is ultimately owing neither to the one regula- 
+tion nor to the other, but to that gradual and insensiblerisein the 
+real value of silver, which, in thefirst book of this discourse, I have 
+endeavoured to show, has taken place in the general market of 
+Europe during the course of the present century. It seems to be 
+altogether impossible that the bounty could ever contribute to 
+lower the price of grain. 
+
+I n years of plenty, it has already been observed, the bounty, by 
+occasioning an extraordinary exportation, necessarily keeps up the 
+price of corn in the home market above what it would naturally 
+
+
+
+406 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+fall to. To do so was the avowed purpose of the institution. In 
+years of scarcity, though the bounty is frequently suspended, yet 
+the great exportation which it occasions in years of plenty, must 
+frequently hinder, moreorless, theplenty of oneyear from reliev- 
+ing thescarcity of another. Both in years of plenty and in years of 
+scarcity, therefore, thebounty necessarily tendsto raise themoney 
+price of corn somewhat higher than it otherwise would be in the 
+home market. 
+
+That in the actual state of tillage the bounty must necessarily 
+havethistendency, will not, I apprehend, bedisputed by any rea- 
+sonable person. But it has been thought by many people, that it 
+tendsto en courage til I age, and that in two different ways; first, by 
+opening a more extensive foreign market to the corn ofthefarmer, 
+it tends, they imagine, to increase the demand for, and conse- 
+quently the production of, that commodity; and, secondly by se- 
+curing to him a better price than hecould otherwise expect in the 
+actual state of tillage, it tends, they suppose, to en courage til I age. 
+This double encouragement must they imagine, in a long period 
+of years, occasion such an increase in the production of corn, as 
+may lower its price in the home market, much more than the 
+bounty can raise it in theactual statewhich tillagemay, attheend 
+of that period, happen to be in. 
+
+I answer, that whatever extension of the foreign market can be 
+
+
+
+occasioned by thebounty must, in every particular year, be alto- 
+gether at the expense of the home market; as every bushel of corn, 
+which is exported by means of thebounty, and which would not 
+have been exported without the bounty, would have remained in 
+the home market to increase the consumption, and to lower the 
+price of that commodity. The corn bounty, itisto be observed, as 
+well as every other bounty upon exportation, imposes two differ- 
+ent taxesupon thepeople; first, thetax which they are obliged to 
+contribute, in order to pay thebounty; and, secondly, thetax which 
+arises from the advanced price of the commodity in the home 
+market, and which, as the whole body of the people are purchas- 
+ers of corn, must, in this particular commodity, be paid by the 
+whole body of the people. In this particular commodity, there- 
+fore, this second tax is by much the heaviest of the two. Let us 
+suppose that, taking oneyear with another, the bounty of 5s. upon 
+the exportation of the quarter of wheat raises the price of that 
+commodity in the home market only 6d. the bushel, or 4s. the 
+quarter higher than it otherwise would have been in the actual 
+state of the crop. Even upon this very moderate supposition, the 
+great body of thepeople, over and abovecontributing thetax which 
+pays the bounty of 5s. upon every quarter of wheat exported, must 
+pay another of 4s. upon every quarter which they themselves con- 
+sume. But according to thevery well informed author of theTracts 
+
+
+
+407 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+upon the Corn Trade, the average proportion of thecorn exported 
+to that consumed at home, is not morethan that of oneto thirty- 
+one. For every 5s. therefore, which they contribute to the pay- 
+ment of the first tax, they must contribute f 6:4s. to the payment 
+of the second. So very heavy a tax upon the first necessary of life- 
+must either reduce the subsistence of the labouring poor, or it 
+must occasion some augmentation in their pecuniary wages, pro- 
+portionableto that in the pecuniary priceof their subsistence. So 
+far as it operates in the one way, it must reduce the ability of the 
+labouring poor to educate and bring up their children, and must, 
+so far, tend to restrain the population of the country. So far as it 
+operate's in the other, it must reduce the ability of the employers 
+of the poor, to employ so great a number as they otherwise might 
+do, and must so far tend to restrain the industry of the country. 
+The extraordinary exportation of corn, therefore occasioned by 
+thebounty, not only in every particular year diminish esthehome, 
+just as much as it extends the foreign market and consumption, 
+but, by restraining the population and industry of the country, its 
+final tendency isto stint and restrain the gradual extension of the 
+home market; and thereby, in the long-run, rather to diminish 
+than to augment the whole market and consumption of corn. 
+
+This enhancement of the money priceof corn, however, it has 
+been thought, by rendering that commodity more profitable to 
+
+
+
+thefarmer, must necessarily encourage its production. 
+
+I answer, that this might be the case, if the effect of the bounty 
+was to raise the real priceof corn, or to enable the farmer, with an 
+equal quantity of it, to maintain a greater number of labourers in 
+the same manner, whether liberal, moderate, or scanty, than other 
+labourers are commonly maintained in his neighbourhood. But 
+nei ther thebounty, it isevident, nor any other human institution, 
+can have any such effect. It is not the real, but the nominal price 
+of corn, which can in any considerable degree be affected by the 
+bounty. And though thetax, which that institution imposesupon 
+the whole body of the people, may be very burdensome to those 
+who pay it, it is of very little advantage to those who receive it. 
+
+The real effect of the bounty is not so much to raise the real 
+valueof corn, as to degrade the real value of silver; ortomakean 
+equal quantity of it exchange for a smaller quantity, not only of 
+corn, but of all other home made commodities; for the money 
+priceof corn regulates that of all other home made commodities. 
+
+It regulates the money price of labour, which must always be 
+such as to enable the labourer to purchase a quantity of corn suf- 
+ficient to maintain him and hisfamily, either in the liberal, mod- 
+erate, or scanty manner, in which the advancing, stationary, or 
+declining, circumstances of the society, oblige his employers to 
+maintain him. 
+
+
+
+408 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+It regulates the money price of all the other parts of the rude 
+produce of land, which, in every period of improvement, must 
+bear a certain proportion to that of corn, though this proportion 
+isdifferent in different periods. It regulates, for example, themoney 
+price of grass and hay, of butcher's meat, of horses, and themain- 
+tenance of horses, of land carriage consequently, or of the greater 
+part of the inland commerce of the country. 
+
+By regulating the money price of all the other parts of the rude 
+produce of land, it regulates that of the materials of almost all 
+manufactures; by regulating the money price of labour, it regu- 
+lates that of manufacturing art and industry; and by regulating 
+both, it regulates that of the complete manufacture. The money 
+price of labour, and of every thing that is the produce, either of 
+land or labour, must necessarily either rise or fall in proportion to 
+the money price of corn. 
+
+Though in consequence of the bounty, therefore, the farmer 
+should be enabled to sell his corn for 4s. the bushel, instead of 
+3s:6d. and to pay hislandlord a money rent proportionableto this 
+rise in the money price of his produce; yet if, in consequence of 
+this rise in the price of corn, 4s. will purchase no more home 
+made goods of any other kind than 3s. 6d. would have done be- 
+fore, neither the circumstances of the farmer, nor those of the 
+landlord, will be much mended by this change. The farmer will 
+
+
+
+not be ableto cultivate much better; the landlord will not be able 
+to live much better. In the purchase of foreign commodities, this 
+enhancement in the price of corn may give them some little ad- 
+vantage. In that of home made commodities, it can give them 
+none at all. And almost the whole expense of the farmer, and the 
+far greater part even of that of the landlord, is in home made 
+commodities. 
+
+That degradation inthevalueof silver, which is the effect of the 
+fertility of the mines, and which operates equally, or very nearly 
+equally, through the greater part of the commercial world, is a 
+matter of very little consequence to any particular country. T he 
+consequent riseof all money prices, though it doesnot makethose 
+who receive them really richer, doesnot make them really poorer. 
+A service of plate becomes really cheaper, and every thing else 
+remains precisely of the same real value as before. 
+
+But that degradation in thevalueof silver, which, being the effect 
+either of the peculiar situation or of the political institutions of a 
+particular country, takes place only in that country, is a matter of 
+very great consequence, which, far from tending to make anybody 
+really richer, tendsto makeevery body really poorer. The rise in the 
+money price of all commodities, which is in this case peculiar to 
+that country, tendsto discourage more or less every sort of industry 
+which iscarried on within it, and to en able foreign nations, byfur- 
+
+
+
+409 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+nishing almost all sorts of goods for a smaller quantity of silver than 
+its own workmen can afford to do, to undersell them, not only in 
+theforeign, but even in the home market. 
+
+It isthepeculiar situation of Spain and Portugal, as proprietors 
+of the mines, to be the distributers of gold and silver to all the 
+other countries of Europe. Those metals ought naturally, there- 
+fore, to be somewhat cheaper in Spain and Portugal than in any 
+other part of Europe. The difference, however, should beno more 
+than theamount of the freight and insurance; and, on account of 
+the great value and small bulk of those metals, their freight is no 
+great matter, and their insurance is the same as that of any other 
+goods of equal value. Spain and Portugal, therefore, could suffer 
+very little from their peculiar situation, if they did not aggravate 
+its disadvantages by their political institutions. 
+
+Spain by taxing, and Portugal by prohibiting, the exportation 
+of gold and silver, load that exportation with the expense of smug- 
+gling, and raise the value of those metals in other countries so 
+much more above what it is in their own, by the whole amount of 
+this expense. When you dam up a stream of water, as soon as the 
+dam isfull, as much water must run over the dam-head as if there 
+wasno dam at all. Theprohibition of exportation cannot detain a 
+greater quantity of gold and silver in Spain and Portugal, than 
+what they can afford to employ, than what the annual produce of 
+
+
+
+their land and labour will allow them to employ, in coin, plate, 
+gilding, and other ornaments of gold and silver. W hen they have 
+got this quantity, the dam is full, and the whole stream which 
+flowsin afterwards must run over. The annual exportation of gold 
+and silver from Spain and Portugal, accordingly, is, by all accounts, 
+notwithstanding these restraints, very near equal tothewholean- 
+nual importation. As the water, however, must always be deeper 
+behind the dam-head than before it, so the quantity of gold and 
+silver which these restraints detain in Spain and Portugal, must, in 
+proportion to the annual produce of their land and labour, be 
+greater than what is to be found in other countries. The higher 
+and stronger the dam-head, the greater must be the difference in 
+the depth of water behind and before it. T he higher the tax, the 
+higher the penalties with which the prohibition is guarded, the 
+more vigilant and severe the police which looks after the execu- 
+tion of the law, the greater must be the difference in the propor- 
+tion of gold and silver to the annual produce of the land and 
+labour of Spain and Portugal, and to that of other countries. It is 
+said, accordingly, to be very considerable, and that you frequently 
+find there a profusion of plate in houses, where there is nothing 
+else which would in other countries be thought suitable or corre- 
+spondent to this sort of magnificence. T he cheapness of gold and 
+silver, or, whatisthesamething, thedearnessof all commodities, 
+
+
+
+410 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+which is the necessary effect of this redundancy of the precious 
+metals, discourages both theagricultureand manufactures of Spain 
+and Portugal, and enables foreign nations to supply them with 
+many sorts of rude, and with almost all sorts of manufactured 
+produce, for a smaller quantity of gold and silver than what they 
+themselves can either raiseor make them for at home. T hetax and 
+prohibition operate in two different ways. They not only lower 
+very much thevalueof the precious metals in Spain and Portugal, 
+but by detaining there a certain quantity of those metals which 
+would otherwise flow over other countries, they keep up their value 
+in those other countries somewhat above what it otherwisewould 
+be, and thereby give those countries a double advantage in their 
+commerce with Spain and Portugal. Open the flood-gates, and 
+there will presently be less water above, and more below the dam- 
+head, and it will soon come to a level in both places. Remove the 
+tax and theprohibition, and as the quantity of gold and silver will 
+diminish considerably in Spain and Portugal, so it will increase 
+somewhat in other countries; and thevalueof those metals, their 
+proportion to the annual produce of land and labour, will soon 
+cometo a level, or very near to a level, in all. T he loss which Spain 
+and Portugal could sustain by this exportation of their gold and 
+silver, would be altogether nominal and imaginary. The nominal 
+value of their goods, and of the annual produce of their land and 
+
+
+
+labour, would fall, and would be expressed or represented by a 
+smaller quantity of silver than before; but their real value would 
+be the same as before, and would be sufficient to maintain, com- 
+mand, and employ the same quantity of labour. As the nominal 
+valueof their goods would fall, thereal valueof what remained of 
+their gold and silver would rise, and a smaller quantity of those 
+metals would answer all the same purposes of commerce and cir- 
+culation which had employed a greater quantity before. The gold 
+and silver which would go abroad would not go abroad for noth- 
+ing, but would bring back an equal valueof goodsof somekind or 
+other. Those goods, too, would not be all matters of mere luxury 
+and expense, to be consumed by idle people, who produce nothing 
+in return for their con sumption. As the real wealth and revenueof 
+idle people would not be augmented by this extraordinary exporta- 
+tion of gold and silver, so neither would their consumption bemuch 
+augmented by it. Those goods would probably, the greater part of 
+them, and certainly some part of them, consist in materials, tools, 
+and provisions, for the employment and maintenance of industri- 
+ous people, who would reproduce, with a profit, the full valueof 
+their consumption. A part of the dead stock of the society would 
+thusbeturned into active stock, and would put into motion a greater 
+quantity of industry than had been employed before. The annual 
+produceof their land and labour would immediately beaugmented 
+
+
+
+411 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+a little, and in a few years would probably be augmented a great 
+deal; their industry being thus relieved from one of the most op- 
+pressive burdens which it at present labours under. 
+
+The bounty upon the exportation of corn necessarily operates 
+exactly in the same way as this absurd policy of Spain and Portu- 
+gal. Whatever be the actual state of tillage, it renders our corn 
+somewhat dearer in the home market than it otherwise would be 
+in that state, and somewhat cheaper in the foreign; and as the 
+average money price of corn regulates, more or less, that of all 
+other commodities, it lowers the value of silver considerably in 
+theone, and tendsto raiseitalittlein theother. It enables foreign- 
+ers, the D utch in particular, not only to eat our corn cheaper than 
+they otherwise could do, but sometimes to eat it cheaper than 
+even our own people can do upon the same occasions; as we are 
+assured by an excellent authority, that of Sir M atthew D ecker. It 
+hinders our own workmen from furnishing their goodsfor so small 
+a quantity of silver as they otherwise might do, and enables the 
+Dutch to furnish theirsfor a smaller. It tendsto render our manu- 
+factures somewhat dearer in every market, and theirs somewhat 
+cheaper, than they otherwise would be, and consequently to give 
+their industry a double advantage over our own. 
+
+The bounty, as it raises in the home market, not so much the 
+real, as the nominal price of our corn; as it augments, not the 
+
+
+
+quantity of labour which a certain quantity of corn can maintain 
+and employ, but only the quantity of silver which itwill exchange 
+for; it discourages our manufactures, without rendering any con- 
+siderable service, either to our farmers or country gentlemen. It 
+puts, indeed, a little more money into thepockets of both, and it 
+will perhaps be somewhat difficult to persuade the greater part of 
+them that this is not rendering them a very considerable service. 
+But if this money sinks in its value, in the quantity of labour, 
+provisions, and home-made commodities of all different kinds 
+which it is capable of purchasing, as much as it rises in its quan- 
+tity, the service will be little more than nominal and imaginary. 
+
+T here is, perhaps, but one set of men in the whole common- 
+wealth to whom the bounty either was or could be essentially ser- 
+viceable. These were the corn merchants, the exporters and im- 
+porters of corn. In years of plenty, the bounty necessarily occa- 
+sioned a greater exportation than would otherwise have taken place; 
+and by hindering the plenty of the one year from relieving the 
+scarcity of another, it occasioned in years of scarcity a greater im- 
+portation than would otherwise have been necessary. It increased 
+the business of the corn merchant in both; and in the years of 
+scarcity, it not only enabled him to import a greater quantity, but 
+to sell it for a better price, and consequently with a greater profit, 
+than he could otherwise have made, if the plenty of one year had 
+
+
+
+412 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+not been more or less hindered from relieving the scarcity of an- 
+other. It isin thisset of men, accordingly, that I have observed the 
+greatest zeal for the continuance or renewal of the bounty. 
+
+Our country gentlemen, when they imposed the high duties 
+upon the exportation of foreign corn, which in times of moderate 
+plenty amount to a prohibition, and when they established the 
+bounty, seem to haveimitated theconduct of our manufacturers. 
+By the one institution, they secured to themselves the monopoly 
+of the home market, and by the other they endeavoured to pre- 
+vent that market from ever being overstocked with their com- 
+modity. By both they endeavoured to raise its real value, in the 
+same manner as our manufacturers had, by the like institutions, 
+raised thereal valueof many different sorts of manufactured goods. 
+They did not, perhaps, attend to the great and essential difference 
+which nature has established between corn and almost every other 
+sort of goods. W hen, either by the monopoly of the home market, 
+or by a bounty upon exportation, you enableour woollen or linen 
+manufacturers to sell their goodsfor somewhat a better pricethan 
+they otherwise could get for them, you raise, not only the nomi- 
+nal, but the real price of those goods; you render them equivalent 
+to a greater quantity of labour and subsistence; you increase not 
+only the nominal, but the real profit, thereal wealth and revenue 
+of those manufacturers; and you enable them, either to live better 
+
+
+
+themselves, or to employ a greater quantity of labour in those 
+particular manufactures. You really encourage thosemanufactures, 
+and direct towards them a greater quantity of the industry of the 
+country than what would properly go to them of its own accord. 
+But when, by the like institutions, you raise thenominal or money 
+price of corn, you do not raise its real value; you do not increase 
+the real wealth, the real revenue, either of our farmers or country 
+gentlemen; you do not en courage the growth of corn, because you 
+do not enable them to maintain and employ more labourers in 
+raising it.Thenatureof thingshas stamped upon corn areal value, 
+which cannot be altered by merely altering its money price. N o 
+bounty upon exportation, no monopoly of the home market, can 
+raise that value. T hefreest competition cannot lower it, T hrough 
+the world in general, that value is equal to the quantity of labour 
+which it can maintain, and in every particular place it is equal to 
+the quantity of labour which it can maintain in the way, whether 
+liberal, moderate, or scanty, in which labour is commonly main- 
+tained in that place. Woollen or linen cloth are not the regulating 
+commodities by which the real value of all other commodities 
+must be finally measured and determined; corn is. The real value 
+of every other commodity is finally measured and determined by 
+theproportion which its average money price bears to the average 
+money price of corn. The real value of corn does not vary with 
+
+
+
+413 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+those variations in its average money price, which sometimes oc- 
+curfrom onecenturyto another; it isthereal valueof silver which 
+varies with them. 
+
+Bounties upon the exportation of any homemade commodity 
+areliable, first, to that general objection which may be made to all 
+the different expedients of the mercantile system; theobjection of 
+forcing some part of the industry of the country into a channel 
+less advantageous than that in which it would run of its own ac- 
+cord; and, secondly, to the particular objection of forcing it not 
+only into a channel that is less advantageous, but into onethat is 
+actually disadvantageous; the trade which cannot be carried on 
+but by means of a bounty being necessarily a losing trade. The 
+bounty upon the exportation of corn is liable to this further ob- 
+jection, that it can in no respect promote the raising of that par- 
+ticular commodity of which it was meant to encourage the pro- 
+duction. W hen our country gentlemen, therefore, demanded the 
+establishment of the bounty, though they acted in imitation of 
+our merchants and manufacturers, they did not act with that com- 
+plete comprehension of their own interest, which commonly di- 
+rects the con duct of those two other orders of people. T hey loaded 
+thepublicrevenuewith a very considerable expense: theyimposed 
+a very heavy tax upon the whole body of the people; but they did 
+not, in any sensible degree, increase the real value of their own 
+
+
+
+commodity; and by lowering somewhat the real value of silver, 
+they discouraged, in somedegree,thegeneral industry of thecoun- 
+try, and, instead of advancing, retarded more or less the improve- 
+ment of their own lands, which necessarily depend upon thegen- 
+eral industry of the country. 
+
+To encourage the production of any commodity, a bounty upon 
+production, oneshould imagine, would haveamoredirect opera- 
+tion than one upon exportation. It would, besides, impose only 
+one tax upon the people, that which they must contribute in or- 
+der to pay the bounty. I nstead of raising, it would tend to lower 
+the price of the commodity in the home market; and thereby, 
+instead of imposing a second tax upon the people, it might, at 
+least in part, repay them for what they had contributed to the 
+first. Bounties upon production, however, have been very rarely 
+granted. Theprejudices established bythecommercial system have 
+taught usto believe, that national wealth arises moreimmediately 
+from exportation than from production. It hasbeen morefavoured, 
+accordingly, as the more immediate meansof bringing money into 
+thecountry Bountiesupon production, it hasbeen said too, have 
+been found by experience more liable to frauds than those upon 
+exportation. How far this istrue, I know not. That bountiesupon 
+exportation have been abused, to many fraudulent purposes, is 
+very well known. But it isnottheinterest of merchants and manu- 
+
+
+
+414 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+facturers, the great inventors of all these expedients, thatthehome 
+market should be overstocked with their goods; an event which a 
+bounty upon production might sometimes occasion. A bounty 
+upon exportation, by enabling them to send abroad their surplus 
+part, and to keep up the price of what remains in the home mar- 
+ket, effectually prevents this. Of all the expedients of themercan- 
+tilesystem, accordingly, it istheoneof which they are thefondest. 
+I have known the different undertakers of some particular works 
+agree privately among themselves to give a bounty out of their 
+own pockets upon the exportation of a certain proportion of the 
+goods which they dealt in. This expedient succeeded so well, that 
+it more than doubled the priceof their goods in the homemarket, 
+notwithstanding a very considerable increase in the produce. T he 
+operation of the bounty upon corn must have been wonderfully 
+different, if it has lowered the money price of that commodity. 
+
+Something like a bounty upon production, however, has been 
+granted upon some particular occasions. The tonnage bounties 
+given to the white herring and whale fisheries may, perhaps, be 
+considered as somewhat of this nature. They tend directly, it may 
+be supposed, to render the goods cheaper in the home market 
+than they otherwise would be. In other respects, their effects, it 
+must be acknowledged, are the same as those of bounties upon 
+exportation. By means of them, a part of the capital of the coun- 
+
+
+
+try is employed in bringing goods to market, of which the price 
+does not repay thecost, together with theordinaryprofitsof stock. 
+
+But though thetonnage bounties to those fisheries do not con- 
+tribute to the opulence of the nation, it may, perhaps, bethought 
+that they contribute to itsdefence, by augmenting the number of 
+its sailorsand shipping. This, it may be alleged, may sometimes be 
+done by means of such bounties, at a much smaller expense than 
+by keeping up a great standing navy, if I may use such an expres- 
+sion, in the same way as a standing army. 
+
+N otwithstanding these favourableallegations, however, the fol- 
+lowing considerations dispose me to believe, that in granting at 
+least one of these bounties, the legislature has been very grossly 
+imposed upon: 
+
+First, 
+
+T he herring-buss bounty seems too large. 
+
+From the commencement of the winter fishing 1771, to the 
+end of thewinter fishing 1781, thetonnage bounty upon theher- 
+ring-buss fishery has been at thirty shillingstheton. During these 
+eleven years, the whole number of barrels caught by the herring- 
+buss fishery of Scotland amounted to 378,347. Theherrings caught 
+and cured at sea are called sea-sticks. I n order to render them what 
+are called merchantable herrings, it is necessary to repack them 
+with an additional quantity of salt; and in thiscase, it is reckoned, 
+
+
+
+415 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+that three barrels of sea-sticks are usually repacked into two bar- 
+rels of merchantable herrings. T he number of barrelsof merchant- 
+able herrings, therefore, caught during these eleven years, will 
+amount only, according to this account, to 252,231V4. During 
+these eleven years, the tonnage bounties paid amounted to 
+£155, 463:11s. or 8s:2V4d. upon every barrel of sea-sticks, and to 
+12s:3 3 /4d. upon every barrel of merchantable herrings. 
+
+Thesalt with which theseherrings are cured issometimesScotch, 
+and sometimes foreign salt; both which are delivered, free of all 
+exciseduty, tothefish-curers.Theexciseduty upon Scotch salt is 
+at present ls:6d., that upon foreign salt 10s. the bushel. A barrel 
+of herrings issupposed to require about onebush el and one-fourth 
+of a bushel foreign salt. Two bushels are the supposed average of 
+Scotch salt. If the herrings are entered for exportation, no part of 
+this duty is paid up; if entered for home consumption, whether 
+the herrings were cured with foreign or with Scotch salt, only one 
+shilling the barrel is paid up. It was the old Scotch duty upon a 
+bushel of salt, the quantity which, at a low estimation, had been 
+supposed necessary for curing a barrel of herrings. In Scotland, 
+foreign salt is very little used for any other purpose but the curing 
+of fish. But from the 5th April 1771 to the 5th April 1782, the 
+quantity of foreign salt imported amounted to 936,974 bushels, 
+at eighty-four pounds the bushel; the quantity of Scotch salt de- 
+
+
+
+livered from the worksto thefish-curers, to no more than 168,226, 
+at fifty-six pounds the bushel only. It would appear, therefore, 
+that it is principally foreign salt that is used in the fisheries. Upon 
+every barrel of herrings exported, there is, besides, a bounty of 
+2s:8d. and more than two-thirds of the buss-caught herrings are 
+exported. Put all these things together, and you will find that, 
+during these eleven years, every barrel of buss-caught herrings, 
+cured with Scotch salt, when exported, has cost government 
+17s:ll 3 /4d.; and, when entered for homeconsumption, 14s:3 3 /4d.; 
+and that every barrel cured with foreign salt, when exported, has 
+cost government £l:7:5 3 /4d.; and, when entered for home con- 
+sumption, £l:3:9 3 /4d. The price of a barrel of good merchantable 
+herrings runs from seventeen and eighteen to four and five-and- 
+twenty shillings; about a guinea at an average. {Seetheaccountsat 
+theend of this Book.} 
+
+Secondly, 
+
+T he bounty to the white-herring fishery is a tonnage bounty, 
+and is proportioned to theburden of theship, notto her diligence 
+or success in thefishery; and it has, I am afraid, been too common 
+for the vessels to fit out for the sole purpose of catching, not the 
+fish but the bounty. In the year 1759, when the bounty was at 
+fifty shillings the ton, the wholebuss fishery of Scotland brought 
+in only four barrels of sea-sticks. In that year, each barrel of sea- 
+
+
+
+416 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+sticks cost government, in bounties alone, f 113:15s.; each barrel 
+of merchantable herrings £159:7:6. 
+
+Thirdly, 
+T he mode of fishing, for which this tonnage bounty in the white 
+herring fishery has been given (by busses or decked vessels from 
+twenty to eighty tons burden ), seems not so well adapted to the 
+situation of Scotland, as to that of H olland, from the practice of 
+which country it appears to have been borrowed. Holland lies at a 
+great distance from theseasto which herrings are known princi- 
+pally to resort, and can, therefore, carry on that fishery only in 
+decked vessels, which can carry water and provisionssufficientfor 
+a voyage to a distant sea; but the Hebrides, or Western Islands, the 
+islands of Shetland, and thenorthern and north-western coastsof 
+Scotland, thecountriesin whoseneighbourhoodtheherringfish- 
+ery is principally carried on, areeverywhereintersected byarmsof 
+the sea, which run up aconsiderablewayintotheland, and which, 
+in the language of the country, are called sea-lochs. It is to these 
+sea-lochsthat the herrings principally resort during the seasons in 
+which they visit these seas; for the visits of this, and, I am assured, 
+of many other sorts of fish, are not quite regular and constant. A 
+boat-fishery, therefore, seemsto be themodeof fishing best adapted 
+to the peculiar situation of Scotland, the fishers carrying the her- 
+rings on shore as fast as they are taken, to be either cured or con- 
+
+
+
+sumed fresh. But thegreat encouragement which a bounty of 30s. 
+theton gives to thebuss- fishery, isnecessarily a discouragement to 
+the boat-fishery, which, having no such bounty, cannot bring its 
+cured fish to market upon the same terms as the buss-fishery The 
+boat-fishery; accordingly, which, before the establishment of the 
+buss-bounty, was very considerable, and issaid to have employed a 
+number of seamen, not i nferior to what the buss-fishery employs at 
+present, isnowgonealmost entirely to decay. Of theformer extent, 
+however, of thisnow ruined and abandoned fishery, I must acknowl- 
+edge that I cannot pretend to speak with much precision. As no 
+bounty was-paid upon the outfit of the boat-fishery, no account 
+was taken of it by the officers of the customs or salt duties 
+
+Fourthly, 
+
+I n many parts of Scotland, during certain seasons of the year, 
+herrings make no inconsiderable part of thefood of thecommon 
+people. A bounty which tended to lower their price in the home 
+market, might contribute a good deal to the relief of a great num- 
+ber of our fellow-subjects, whose circumstances are by no means 
+affluent. But the herring-bus bounty contributes to no such good 
+purpose. It has ruined the boat fishery, which is by far the best 
+adapted for the supply of the home market; and the additional 
+bounty of 2s:8d. the barrel upon exportation, carries the greater 
+part, more than two-thirds, of the produce of the buss-fishery 
+
+
+
+417 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+abroad. Between thirty and forty years ago, before the establish- 
+ment of the buss-bounty 16s. the barrel, I have been assured, was 
+thecommon priceof white herrings. Between ten and fifteen years 
+ago, before the boat-fishery was entirely ruined, thepricewas said 
+to have run from seventeen to twenty shillingsthebarrel. For these 
+last five years, it has, at an average, been at twenty-five shillings 
+the barrel. This high price, however, may have been owing to the 
+real scarcity of the herrings upon the coast of Scotland. I must 
+observe, too, that the cask or barrel, which is usually sold with the 
+herrings, and of which the price is included in all the foregoing 
+prices, has, since the commencement of the American war, risen 
+to about double its former price, or from about 3s. to about 6s. I 
+must likewise observe, that the accounts I have received of the 
+prices of former times, have been bynomeansquite uniform and 
+consistent, and an old man of great accuracy and experience has 
+assured me, that, more than fifty years ago, a guinea was the usual 
+priceof a barrel of good merchantable herrings; and this, I imag- 
+ine, may still be looked upon as the average price. All accounts, 
+however, I think, agree that the price has not been lowered in the 
+home market in consequence of the buss-bounty 
+
+When the undertakers of fisheries, after such liberal bounties 
+have been bestowed upon them, continueto sell their commodity 
+at the same, or even at a higher price than they were accustomed 
+
+
+
+to do before, it might be expected that their profits should be very 
+great; and it is not improbablethat those of some individuals may 
+have been so. I n general, however, I have every reason to believe 
+they have been quite otherwise. The usual effect of such bounties 
+is, to en courage rash undertakers to adventurein a business which 
+they do not understand; and what they lose by their own negli- 
+gence and ignorance, more than compensates all that they can 
+gain by theutmost liberality of government. In 1750, by the same 
+act which first gave the bounty of 30s. theton for the encourage- 
+ment of the white herring fishery (the 23d Geo. 1 1 . chap. 24), a 
+joint stock company was erected, with a capital of £500,000, to 
+which the subscribers (over and above all other encouragements, 
+the tonnage bounty just now mentioned, the exportation bounty 
+of 2s:8d. the barrel, the delivery of both British and foreign salt 
+dutyfree) were, during the space of fourteen years, for every hun- 
+dred pounds which they subscribed and paid into the stock of the 
+society, entitled to three pounds a-year, to be paid by the receiver- 
+general of the customs in equal half-yearly payments. Besides this 
+great company, the residence of whose governor and directors was 
+to be in London, it was declared lawful to erect different fishing 
+chambersin all thedifferent out-portsof thekingdom, provided a 
+sum not less than £10,000 was subscribed into the capital of each, 
+to be managed at itsown risk, and for its own profit and loss. The 
+
+
+
+418 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+sameannuity, and thesameencouragementsof all kinds, weregiven 
+to the trade of those i nferior chambers as to that of the great com- 
+pany. The subscription of the great company was soon filled up, 
+and several different fishing chambers were erected in the different 
+out-ports of the kingdom. In spite of all these encouragements, al- 
+most all those different companies, both great and small, lost either 
+the whole or the greater part of their capitals; scarce a vestige now 
+remains of any of them, and the white-herring fishery is now en- 
+tirely, or almost entirely, carried on by private adventurers. 
+
+If any particular manufacture was necessary, indeed, for the de- 
+fence of the society, it might not always be prudent to depend 
+upon ourneighboursforthesupply; and if such manufacture could 
+not otherwise be supported at home, it might not be unreason- 
+able that all the other branches of industry should be taxed in 
+order to support it. T he bounties upon the exportation of British 
+made sail-cloth, and British madegunpowder, may, perhaps, both 
+be vindicated upon this principle. 
+
+But though it can very seldom be reasonable to tax the industry 
+of the great body of the people, in order to support that of some 
+particular class of manufacturers; yet, in the wantonness of great 
+prosperity, when the public enjoys a greater revenuethan it knows 
+well what to do with, to give such bounties to favourite manufac- 
+tures, may, perhaps, beasnatural as to incuranyotheridleexpense. 
+
+
+
+In public, as well asin private expenses, great wealth, may, perhaps, 
+frequently be admitted as an apology for great folly. Buttheremust 
+surely be something more than ordinary absurdity in continuing 
+such profusion in times of general difficulty and distress. 
+
+W hat is called a bounty, is sometimes no more than a draw- 
+back, and, consequently, is not liable to the same objections as 
+what is properly a bounty. The bounty, for example, upon refined 
+sugar exported, may be considered as a drawback of the duties 
+upon the brown and M uscovado sugars, from which it is made; 
+thebounty upon wrought silk exported, a drawback of theduties 
+upon raw and thrown silk imported; thebounty upon gunpow- 
+der exported, a drawback of the duties upon brimstone and salt- 
+petre imported. In the language of the customs, those allowances 
+onlyare called drawbackswhich are given upon goodsexported in 
+the same form in which they are imported. When that form has 
+been so altered by manufacture of any kind as to come under a 
+new denomination, they are called bounties. 
+
+Premiumsgiven by thepublicto artistsand manufacturers, who 
+excel in their particular occupations, are not liable to the same 
+objectionsas bounties. By encouraging extraordinary dexterity and 
+ingenuity, they serve to keep up the emulation of the workmen 
+actually employed in those respective occupations, and are not 
+considerable enough to turn towards any one of them a greater 
+
+
+
+419 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+share of the capital of the country than what would go to it of its 
+own accord. T heir tendency is not to overturn the natural balance 
+of employments, but to render the work which is done in each as 
+perfect and complete as possible. T he expense of premiums, be- 
+sides, is very trifling, that of bounties very great. T he bounty upon 
+corn alone has sometimes cost the public, in oneyear, more than 
+£300,000. 
+
+Bounties are sometimes called premiums, asdrawbacks are some 
+times called bounties. But we must, in all cases, attend to the na- 
+ture of the thing, without paying any regard to the word. 
+
+Digression concerning the Corn Trade and Corn Laws. 
+
+I cannot conclude this chapter concerning bounties, without ob- 
+serving, that the praises which have been bestowed upon the law 
+which establishes the bounty upon the exportation of corn, and 
+upon that system of regulations which isconnected with it, are alto- 
+gether unmerited. A particular examination of the nature of the 
+corn trade, and of the principal British laws which relate to it, will 
+sufficiently demonstrate the truth of this assertion. The great im- 
+portance of this subject must justify the length of the digression. 
+
+T he trade of the corn merchant is composed of four different 
+branches, which, though they may sometimes be all carried on by 
+
+
+
+the same person, are, in their own nature, four separate and dis- 
+tinct trades. These are, first, the trade of the inland dealer; sec- 
+ondly, that of the merchant-importer for home consumption; 
+thirdly, that of the merchant-exporter of home produce for for- 
+eign consumption; and, fourthly, that of the merchant- carrier, or 
+of the importer of corn, in order to export it again. 
+
+I . T he interest of the inland dealer, and that of thegreat body of 
+thepeople, how opposite soever they may at first appear, are, even 
+in years of the greatest scarcity, exactly the same. It is his interest 
+to raise the price of his corn as high as the real scarcity of the 
+season requires, and it can never be his interest to raise it higher. 
+By raising the price, he discourages the consumption, and puts 
+every body more or less, but particularly the inferior ranks of 
+people, upon thrift and good management If, by raising it too 
+high, hediscouragestheconsumption so much that the supply of 
+the season is likely to go beyond the consumption of the season, 
+and to last for sometime after the next crop beginsto come in, he 
+runs the hazard, not only of losing a considerable part of his corn 
+by natural causes, but of being obliged to sell what remains of it 
+for much less than what he might have had for it several months 
+before. If, by not raising the price high enough, hediscourages the 
+consumption so little, that the supply of the season is likely to fall 
+short of theconsumption of theseason, henot only losesa part of 
+
+
+
+420 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+the profit which he might otherwise have made, but he exposes 
+the people to suffer before the end of the season, instead of the 
+hardships of a dearth, the dreadful horrors of a famine. It is the 
+interest of the people that their daily, weekly, and monthly con- 
+sumption should be proportioned as exactly as possible to the sup- 
+ply of the season. The interest of the inland corn dealer is the 
+same. By supplying them, as nearly as he can judge, in this pro- 
+portion, he is likely to sell all his corn for the highest price, and 
+with thegreatest profit; and hisknowledge of thestate of thecrop, 
+and of his daily, weekly, and monthly sales, enables him to judge, 
+with more or I ess accuracy, how far they really are supplied in this 
+manner. Without intending theinterest of the people, he is neces- 
+sarily led, by a regard to his own interest, to treat them, even in 
+years of scarcity, pretty much in the same manner as the prudent 
+master of a vessel is sometimes obliged to treat hiscrew. When he 
+foreseesthat provisionsarelikdy to run short, heputsthem upon 
+short allowance. Though from excess of caution he should some- 
+times do this without any real necessity, yet all theinconvenien- 
+cies which hiscrew can thereby suffer are inconsiderable, in com- 
+parison of thedanger, misery, and ruin, to which they might some- 
+times be exposed by a less provident conduct. T hough, from ex- 
+cess of avarice, in the same manner, the inland corn merchant 
+should sometimes raise theprice of hiscorn somewhat higher than 
+
+
+
+thescarci ty of theseason requires, yet all theinconveniencies which 
+thepeoplecan suffer from thisconduct, which effectually secures 
+them from a famine in the end of theseason, are inconsiderable, 
+i n comparison of what they might have been exposed to by a more 
+liberal way of dealing in the beginning of it the corn merchant 
+himself is likely to suffer the most by this excess of avarice; not 
+only from the indignation which it generally excites against him, 
+but, though heshould escapetheeffects of this indignation, from 
+the quantity of corn which it necessarily leaves upon his hands in 
+the end of the season, and which, if the next season happens to 
+prove favourable, he must always sell for a much lower price than 
+he might otherwise have had. 
+
+Wereit possible, indeed, for onegreat company of merchants to 
+possess themselves of the whole crop of an extensive country, it 
+might perhaps be their interest to deal with it, as the D utch are 
+said to do with the spiceries of the M oluccas, to destroy or throw 
+away a considerable part of it, in order to keep up the price of the 
+rest. But it isscarce possible, even by the violence of law, to estab- 
+lish such an extensive monopoly with regard to corn; and wher- 
+ever the I aw I eaves the trade free, itisof all commodities the least 
+liable to be engrossed or monopolized by the forced a few large 
+capitals, which buy up thegreater part of it. N ot only itsvaluefar 
+exceeds what the capitals of a few private men are capable of pur- 
+
+
+
+421 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+chasing; but, supposing they were capable of purchasing it, the 
+manner in which it is produced renders this purchase altogether 
+impracticable. As, in every civilized country, it isthe commodity 
+of which theannual consumption is the greatest; so a greater quan- 
+tity of industry is annually employed in producing corn than in 
+producing any other commodity. When it first comes from the 
+ground, too, it is necessarily divided among a greater number of 
+owners than any other commodity; and these owners can never be 
+collected into one place, like a number of independent manufac- 
+turers, but are necessarily scattered through all the different cor- 
+ners of the country. These first owners either immediately supply 
+the consumers in their own neighbourhood, or they supply other 
+inland dealers, who supply those consumers. The inland dealers 
+in corn, therefore, including both the farmer and the baker, are 
+necessarily more numerous than the dealers in any other com- 
+modity; and their dispersed situation renders it altogether impos- 
+sible for them to enter into any general combination. If, in ayear 
+of scarcity, therefore, any of them should find that he had a good 
+deal more corn upon hand than, at the current price, he could 
+hope to dispose of before the end of the season, he would never 
+think of keeping up this price to his own loss, and to the sole 
+benefit of hisrivalsand competitors, but would immediately lower 
+it, in order to get rid of his corn before the new crop began to 
+
+
+
+come in. The same motives, the same interests, which would thus 
+regulate the conduct of any one dealer, would regulate that of 
+every other, and oblige them all in general to sell their corn at the 
+price which, according to the best of their judgment, was most 
+suitable to the scarcity or plenty of the season . 
+
+W hoever examines, with attention, the history of the dearths 
+andfamineswhich have afflicted any part of Europeduring either 
+thecourseof thepresent or that of thetwo preceding centuries, of 
+several of which we have pretty exact accounts, will find, I believe, 
+that a dearth never has arisen from any combination among the 
+inland dealersin corn, nor from any other cause but a real scarcity, 
+occasioned sometimes, perhaps, and in some particular places, by 
+the waste of war, butin by far the greatest number of cases by the 
+fault of the seasons; and that a famine has never arisen from any 
+other cause but the violence of government attempting, by im- 
+proper means, to remedy the inconvenienciesof a dearth. 
+
+In an extensive corn country, between all the different parts of 
+which there is a free commerce and communication, the scarcity 
+occasioned by themost unfavourableseasonscan never be so great 
+as to produce a famine; and the scantiest crop, if managed with 
+frugality and economy, will maintain, through theyear, thesame 
+number of peoplethat are commonly fed in a more affluent man- 
+ner by one of moderate plenty. T he seasons most unfavourable to 
+
+
+
+422 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+the crop are those of excessive drought or excessive rain. But as 
+corn grows equally upon high and low lands, upon grounds that 
+aredisposed to be too wet, and upon those that aredisposed to be 
+too dry, either the drought or the rain, which is hurtful to one 
+part of the country, is favourable to another; and though, both in 
+the wet and in the dry season, the crop is a good deal less than in 
+one more properly tempered; yet, in both, what is lost in onepart 
+of thecountryisin some measure compensated by what is gained 
+in theother. In rice countries, where the crop not only requiresa 
+very moist soil, but where, in a certain period of its growing, it 
+must be laid underwater, the effects of a drought are much more 
+dismal. Even in such countries, however, thedrought is, perhaps, 
+scarce ever so universal as necessarily to occasion a famine, if the 
+government would allow a free trade. Thedrought in Bengal, a 
+few years ago, might probably have occasioned a very great dearth. 
+Some improper regulations, some injudicious restraints, imposed 
+by the servants of the East India Company upon the rice trade, 
+contributed, perhaps, to turn that dearth into a famine. 
+
+When the government, in order to remedy the inconveniencies 
+of a dearth, orders all the dealers to sell their corn at what it sup- 
+poses a reason able price, it either hinders them from bringing it to 
+market, which may sometimes produce a famine even in the be- 
+ginning of the season; or, if they bring it thither, it enables the 
+
+
+
+people, and thereby encourages them to consumeit so fast asmust 
+necessarily produce a famine before the end of the season. The 
+unlimited, unrestrained freedom of thecorn trade, asit istheonly 
+effectual preventive of the miseries of a famine, so it is the best 
+palliative of the inconveniencies of a dearth; for the inconvenien- 
+cies of a real scarcity cannot be remedied; they can only be palli- 
+ated. No trade deserves more thefull protection of thelaw, and no 
+trade requires it so much; because no trade is so much exposed to 
+popular odium. 
+
+In years of scarcity, the inferior ranks of people impute their 
+distress to the avarice of the corn merchant, who becomes the 
+object of their hatred and indignation. Instead of making profit 
+upon such occasions, therefore, he is often in danger of being 
+utterly ruined, and of having his magazines plundered and de- 
+stroyed by their violence. It is in years of scarcity, however, when 
+pricesarehigh, that thecorn merchant expects to makehisprinci- 
+pal profit. H e is generally in contract with some farmers to fur- 
+nish him, for a certain number of years, with a certain quantity of 
+corn, atacertain price. This contract price is settled according to 
+what is supposed to be the moderate and reasonable, that is, the 
+ordinary or average price, which, before the late years of scarcity, 
+was commonly about 28s. for thequarter of wheat, and for that of 
+other grain in proportion. In years of scarcity, therefore, thecorn 
+
+
+
+423 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+merchant buys a great part of his corn for the ordinary price, and 
+sells it for a much higher. That this extraordinary profit, however, 
+is no more than sufficient to put his trade upon a fair level with 
+other trades, and to compensate the many losses which hesu stains 
+upon other occasions, both from theperishablenatu re of thecom- 
+modity itself, and from the frequent and unforeseen fluctuations 
+of its price, seemsevident enough, from this single circumstance, 
+that great fortunes are as seldom made in this as in any other 
+trade. The popular odium, however, which attends it in years of 
+scarcity, the only years in which it can be very profitable, renders 
+people of character and fortune averse to enter into it. It is aban- 
+doned to an inferior set of dealers; and millers, bakers, meal-men, 
+and meal-factors, together with a number of wretched hucksters, 
+arealmosttheonlymiddlepeoplethat, in the home market, come 
+between the grower and the consumer. 
+
+T heancient policy of Europe, instead of discountenancing this 
+popular odium against a trade so beneficial to the public, seems, 
+on the contrary, to have authorised and encouraged it. 
+
+By the 5th and 6th of Edward VI cap. 14, it was enacted, that 
+whoever should buy any corn or grain, with intent to sell it again, 
+should be reputed an unlawful engrosser, and should, for thefirst 
+fault, suffer two months imprisonment, and forfeit the value of 
+the corn; for the second, suffer six months imprisonment, and 
+
+
+
+forfeit double the value; and, for the third, be set in the pillory, 
+suffer imprisonment during the king's pleasure, and forfeit all his 
+goods and chattels. T he ancient policy of most other parts of Eu- 
+rope was no better than that of England. 
+
+ur ancestors seem to have imagined, that the people would 
+buy their corn cheaper of the farmer than of the corn merchant, 
+who, they were afraid, would require, over and above the price 
+which he paid to thefarmer, an exorbitant profit to himself. They 
+endeavoured, therefore, to annihilate his trade altogether. They 
+even endeavoured to hinder, asmuch as possible, any middleman 
+of any kind from coming in between the grower and the con- 
+sumer; and this was the meaning of the many restraints which 
+they imposed upon the trade of those whom they called kidders, 
+or carriers of corn; a trade which nobody was allowed to exercise 
+without a licence, ascertaining his qualifications as a man of pro- 
+bity and fair dealing. T he authority of three justices of the peace 
+was, by the statute of Edward VI. necessary in order to grant this 
+licence. But even this restraint was afterwards thought insufficient, 
+and, byastatuteof Elizabeth, the privilegeof granting it was con- 
+fined to the quarter-sessions. 
+
+T he ancient policy of Europe endeavoured, in this manner, to 
+regulate agriculture, the great trade of the country, by maxims 
+quitedifferentfrom those which it established with regard to manu- 
+
+
+
+424 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+factures, the great trade of the towns. By leaving a farmer no other 
+customers but either the consumers or their immediate factors, 
+the kidders and carriers of corn, it endeavoured to force him to 
+exercise the trade, not only of a farmer, but of acorn merchant, or 
+corn retailer. On the contrary, it, in many cases, prohibited the 
+manufacturer from exercising the trade of a shopkeeper, or from 
+selling his own goods by retail. It meant, by the one law, to pro- 
+mote the general interest of the country, or to render corn cheap, 
+without, perhaps, its being well understood how this was to be 
+done. By the other, it meant to promote that of a particular order 
+of men, the shopkeepers, who would be so much undersold by 
+the manufacturer, it was supposed, that their trade would be ru- 
+ined, if he was allowed to retail at all. 
+
+Themanufacturer, however, though hehad been allowed to keep 
+a shop, and to sell hisown goods by retail, could nothaveunder- 
+sold thecommon shopkeeper. W hatever part of hiscapital hemight 
+haveplaced in hisshop, he must have withdrawn itfrom hismanu- 
+facture. I n order to carry on his business on a level with that of 
+other people, as he must have had the profit of a manufacturer on 
+the one part, so he must have had that of a shopkeeper upon the 
+other. Let us suppose, for example, that in the particular town 
+wherehelived, ten percent, was theordinary profit both of manu- 
+facturing and shopkeeping stock; hemust in thiscasehave charged 
+
+
+
+upon every piece of hisown goods, which he sold in hisshop, a 
+profit of twenty per cent. W hen he carried them from his work- 
+house to hisshop, hemust have valued them at theprice for which 
+he could have sold them to a dealer or shopkeeper, who would 
+have bought them by wholesale. If he valued them lower, he lost a 
+part of the profit of his manufacturing capital. When, again, he 
+sold them from his shop, unless he got the same price at which a 
+shopkeeper would have sold them, he lost a part of the profit of 
+his shop-keeping capital. Though hemight appear, therefore, to 
+make a double profit upon the same piece of goods, yet, as these 
+goods made successively a part of two distinct capitals, he made 
+but a single profit upon the whole capital employed about them; 
+and if he made less than his profit, he was a loser, and did not 
+employ his whole capital with the same advantage as the greater 
+part of his neighbours. 
+
+W hat the manufacturer was prohibited to do, thefarmer was in 
+some measure enjoined to do; to divide his capital between two 
+different employments; to keep one part of it in his granaries and 
+stack-yard, for supplying the occasional demands of the market, 
+and to employ the other in the cultivation of his land. But as he 
+could not afford to employ the latter for less than the ordinary 
+profits of farming stock, so he could as little afford to employ the 
+former for less than the ordinary profits of mercantile stock. 
+
+
+
+425 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+W hether the stock which really carried on the business of a corn 
+merchant belonged to the person who was called a farmer, or to the 
+person who was called acorn merchant, an equal profit wasin both 
+cases requisite, in order to indemnify its owner for employing it in 
+thismanner, in order to put hisbusinesson a level with other trades, 
+and in order to hinder him from having an interest to change it as 
+soon as possible for some other. The farmer, therefore, who was 
+thus forced to exercise the trade of acorn merchant, could not af- 
+ford to sell his corn cheaper than any other corn merchant would 
+have been obliged to do in the case of a free competition. 
+
+T hedealer who can employ his whole stock in one single branch 
+of business, has an advantageof thesamekind with theworkman 
+who can employ his whole labour in one single operation. Asthe 
+latter acquires a dexterity which enables him, with the same two 
+hands, to perform a much greater quantity of work, so the former 
+acquires so easy and ready a method of transacting hisbusiness, of 
+buying and disposing of his goods, that with the same capital he 
+can transact a much greater quantity of business. As the one can 
+commonly afford his work a good deal cheaper, so the other can 
+commonly afford his goods somewhat cheaper, than if his stock 
+and attention were both employed about a greater variety of ob- 
+jects. T he greater part of manufacturers could not afford to retail 
+their own goodsso cheap asa vigilant and active shopkeeper, whose 
+
+
+
+sole business it was to buy them by wholesale and to retail them 
+again. The greater part of farmers could still less afford to retail 
+their own corn, to supply the inhabitants of a town, at perhaps 
+four or five miles distance from the greater part of them, so cheap 
+asa vigilant and activecorn merchant, whose sole business it was 
+to purchase corn by wholesale, to collect it into a great magazine, 
+and to retail it again. 
+
+Thelaw which prohibited the manufacturer from exercisingthe 
+trade of a shopkeeper, endeavoured to force this division in the 
+employment of stock to go on faster than it might otherwise have 
+done. T he law which obi iged the farmer to exercise the trade of a 
+corn merchant, endeavoured to hinder it from going on so fast. 
+Both laws were evident violations of natural liberty, and therefore 
+unjust; and they were both, too, as impolitic as they were unjust. 
+It is the interest of every society, that things of this kind should 
+never either heforced or obstructed. Theman who employs either 
+his labour or his stock in a greater variety of ways than his situa- 
+tion renders necessary, can never hurt his neighbour by undersell- 
+ing him. He may hurt himself, and hegenerally doesso. Jack-of- 
+al I -trades will never be rich, says the proverb. But the law ought 
+always to trust people with the care of their own interest, as in 
+their local situations they must generally be able to judge better of 
+itthan the legislature can do.Thelaw, however, which obliged the 
+
+
+
+426 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+farmer to exercise the trade of a corn merchant was by far the 
+most pernicious of the two. 
+
+It obstructed not only that division in the employment of stock 
+which is so advantageous to every society but it obstructed like- 
+wise the improvement and cultivation of theland. Byobligingthe 
+farmer to carry on two trades instead of one, it forced him to 
+divide his capital into two parts, of which one only could be em- 
+ployed in cultivation. But if hehad been at liberty to sell his whole 
+crop to a corn merchant asfast ashecould thresh it out, his whole 
+capital might have returned immediately to the land, and have 
+been employed in buying more cattle, and hiring more servants, 
+in order to improve and cultivate it better. But by being obliged to 
+sell his corn by retail, he was obliged to keep a great part of his 
+capital in hisgranariesand stack-yard through theyear, and could 
+not therefore cultivate so well as with the same capital he might 
+otherwise have done. This law, therefore, necessarily obstructed 
+the improvement of the land, and, instead of tending to render 
+corn cheaper, must have tended to render it scarcer, and therefore 
+dearer, than it would otherwise have been. 
+
+After the business of thefarmer, that of the corn merchant is in 
+reality the trade which, if properly protected and encouraged, 
+would contribute the most to the raising of corn. It would sup- 
+port the trade of the farmer, in the same manner as the trade of 
+
+
+
+the wholesale dealer supports that of the manufacturer. 
+
+T he wholesale dealer, by affording a ready market to the manu- 
+facturer, by taking his goods off his hand as fast as he can make 
+them, and by sometimes even advancing their price to him before 
+he has made them, enables him to keep his whole capital, and 
+sometimes even more than his wholecapital, constantly employed 
+in manufacturing, and consequently to manufactureamuch greater 
+quantity of goods than if he was obliged to dispose of them him- 
+self to the immediate consumers, or even to the retailers. As the 
+capital of the wholesale merchant, too, is generally sufficient to 
+replacethat of many manufacturers, thisintercourse between him 
+and them intereststheowner of a largecapital to support theowners 
+of a great number of small ones, and to assist them in those losses 
+and misfortunes which might otherwise prove ruinous to them. 
+
+An intercourseof thesamekind universally established between 
+the farmers and the corn merchants, would be attended with ef- 
+fects equally beneficial to the farmers. They would be enabled to 
+keep their wholecapitals, and even morethan their wholecapitals 
+constantly employed in cultivation. In case of any of those acci - 
+den tsto which no trade ismoreliablethan theirs, they would find 
+in their ordinary customer, the wealthy corn merchant, a person 
+who had both an interesttosupportthem, and theability todo it; 
+and they would not, as at present, be entirely dependent upon the 
+
+
+
+427 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+forbearance of their landlord, or the mercy of his steward. Were it 
+possible, as perhaps it is not, to establish this intercourse univer- 
+sally, and all at once; wereit possibleto turn all at once the whole 
+farming stock of the kingdom to its proper business, the cultiva- 
+tion of land, withdrawing it from every other employment into 
+which any part of it may be at present diverted; and were it pos- 
+sible, in order to support and assist, upon occasion, theoperations 
+of this great stock, to provide all at once another stock almost 
+equally great; it is not, perhaps, very easy to imagine how great, 
+how extensive, and how sudden, would betheimprovement which 
+thischangeof circumstanceswould aloneproduceupon thewhole 
+face of the country. 
+
+The statute of Edward VI . therefore, by prohibiting as much as 
+possibleany middleman from coming in between the grower and 
+theconsumer, endeavoured to annihilateatrade, of which thefree 
+exercise is not only the best palliative of the inconvenienciesof a 
+dearth, but the best preventive of that calamity; after the trade of 
+thefarmer, notradecontributingsomuchtothegrowingof corn 
+as that of the corn merchant. 
+
+The rigour of this law was after wards softened by several subse- 
+quent statutes, which successively permitted the engrossi ng of corn 
+when the price of wheat should not exceed 20s. and 24s. 32s. and 
+40s. the quarter. At last, by the 15th of C harles 1 1 . c.7, the en- 
+
+
+
+grossing or buying of corn, in order to sell it again, as long as the 
+price of wheat did not exceed 48s. the quarter, and that of other 
+grain in proportion, was declared lawful to all persons not being 
+forestallers, that is, not selling again in the same market within 
+three months. All thefreedom which thetradeof the inland corn 
+dealer has ever yet enjoyed was bestowed upon it by this statute. 
+The statute of the twelfth of the present king, which repeals al- 
+most all theother ancient laws against engrossers and forestallers, 
+does not repeal the restrictions of this particular statute, which 
+therefore still continue in force. 
+
+Thisstatute, however, authorises in some measure two very ab- 
+surd popular prejudices. 
+
+First, 
+
+It supposes, that when the price of wheat has risen so high as 
+48s. the quarter, and that of other grain in proportion, corn is 
+likely to be so engrossed as to hurt the people. But, from what has 
+been already said, it seems evident enough, that corn can at no 
+price be so engrossed by the inland dealers as to hurt the people; 
+and 48s. the quarter, besides, though it may be considered as a 
+very high price, yet, in years of scarcity, it is a price which fre- 
+quently takes place immediately after harvest, when scarce any 
+part of the new crop can be sold off, and when it is impossible 
+even for ignorance to suppose that any part of it can be so en- 
+
+
+
+428 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+grossed as to hurt the people. 
+
+Secondly, 
+
+It supposes that there is a certain price at which corn is likely to 
+be forestalled, that is, bought up in order to be sold again soon 
+after in the same market, so as to hurt the people. But if a mer- 
+chant ever buysup corn, either going to a particular market, or in 
+a particular market, in order to sell it again soon after in thesame 
+market, it must be because hejudges that the market cannot be so 
+liberally supplied through the whole season as upon that particu- 
+lar occasion, and that the price, therefore, must soon rise. If he 
+judges wrong in this, and if the price does not rise, he not only 
+loses the whole profit of the stock which heemploysin this man- 
+ner, but a part of the stock itself, by the expense and loss which 
+necessarily attend the storing and keeping of corn. He hurts him- 
+self, therefore, much more essentially than he can hurt even the 
+particular peoplewhom hemayhinder from supplyingthem selves 
+upon that particular market day, because they may afterwards sup- 
+ply themselves just as cheap upon any other market day. If he 
+judges right, instead of hurting the great body of the people, he 
+renders them a most important service. By making them feel the 
+inconveniences of a dearth somewhat earlier than they otherwise 
+might do, he prevents their feeling them afterwardsso severely as 
+they certainly would do, if the cheapness of price encouraged them 
+
+
+
+toconsumefasterthan suited thereal scarcity of the season. When 
+the scarcity is real, the best thing that can bedoneforthepeople 
+is, to dividetheinconvenienceof it as equally as possible, through 
+all the different months and weeks and days of the year. The 
+interest of the corn merchant makes him study to do this as 
+exactly as he can; and as no other person can have either the 
+same interest, or the same knowledge, or the same abilities, to 
+do it so exactly as he, this most important operation of com- 
+merce ought to be trusted entirely to him; or, in other words, 
+the corn trade, so far at least as concerns the supply of the home 
+market, ought to be left perfectly free. 
+
+The popular fear of engrossing and forestalling may be com- 
+pared to the popular terrors and suspicionsof witchcraft. The un- 
+fortunate wretches accused of this latter crime were not more in- 
+nocent of the misfortunes imputed to them, than those who have 
+been accused of theformer. The law which put an end to all pros- 
+ecutions against witchcraft, which put it out of any man's power 
+to gratify hi sown malice by accusing his neighbour of that imagi- 
+nary crime, seems effectually to have put an end to those fears and 
+suspicions, by taking away the great cause which encouraged and 
+supported them. The law which would restore entire freedom to 
+theinland tradeof corn, would probably prove as effectual to put 
+an end to the popular fears of engrossing and forestalling. 
+
+
+
+429 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+The 15th of Charles 1 1 . c. 7, however, with all its imperfections, 
+has, perhaps, contributed more, both to the plentiful supply of 
+the home market, and to theincreaseof tillage, than any other law 
+in the statute book. It is from this law that the inland corn trade 
+has derived all the liberty and protection which it has ever yet 
+enjoyed; and both the supply of the home market and the interest 
+of tillage aremuch more effectually promoted by the inland, than 
+either by the importation or exportation trade. 
+
+The proportion of the average quantity of all sorts of grain im- 
+ported into Great Britain to that of all sorts of grain consumed, it 
+has been computed by the author of the Tracts upon the Corn 
+Trade, does not exceed that of one to five hundred and seventy. 
+For supplying the home market, therefore, the importance of the 
+inland trade must be to that of the importation trade as five hun- 
+dred and seventy to one. 
+
+T he average quantity of all sorts of grain exported from G reat 
+Britain does not, according to the same author, exceed the one- 
+and-thirtieth part of the annual produce. For the encouragement 
+of tillage, therefore, by providing a market for the home produce, 
+theimportanceoftheinlandtrademustbetothatoftheexporta- 
+tion trade as thirty to one. 
+
+I have no great faith in political arithmetic, and I mean not to 
+warrant the exactness of either of these computations. I mention 
+
+
+
+them only in order to show of how much less consequence, in the 
+opinion of the most judicious and experienced persons, the for- 
+eign trade of corn is than the home trade. The great cheapness of 
+corn in theyears immediately preceding the establishment of the 
+bounty may, perhaps with reason, heascribed in some measure to 
+theoperation of thisstatuteof Charlesll. which had been enacted 
+about five-and-twenty years before, and which had, therefore, full 
+time to produce its effect. 
+
+A very few words will sufficiently explain all that I have to say 
+concerning the other three branches of the corn trade. 
+
+1 1 .Thetradeofthemerchant-importer of foreign corn for home 
+consumption, evidently contributes to the immediate supply of 
+the home market, and must so far be immediately beneficial to 
+the great body of the people. It tends, indeed, to lower somewhat 
+theaverage money priceof corn, but not to diminish its real value, 
+or the quantity of labour which it is capable of maintaining. If 
+importation was at all times free, our farmers and country gentle- 
+men would probably, one year with another, get less money for 
+their corn than they do at present, when importation is at most 
+times in effect prohibited; but the money which they got would 
+be of more value, would buy more goods of all other kinds, and 
+would employ more labour. Their real wealth, their real revenue, 
+therefore, would be the same as at present, though it might be 
+
+
+
+430 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+expressed by a smaller quantity of silver, and they would neither 
+bedisabled nor discouraged from cultivating corn as much as they 
+do at present. On the contrary astherisein thereal value of silver, 
+in consequence of loweringthemoneypriceof corn, lowers some- 
+what themoney price of all other commodities, it gives theindus- 
+try of the country where it takes place some advantage in all for- 
+eign markets and thereby tends to encourage and increase that 
+industry. But the extent of the home market for corn must be in 
+proportion to the general industry of the country where it grows, 
+ortothenumber of those who producesomething else, and there 
+fore, have something else, or, what comes to the same thing, the 
+priceof something else, to givein exchange for corn. But in every 
+country, the home market, as it is the nearest and most conve- 
+nient, so isit likewise the greatest and most important market for 
+corn. That rise in the real value of silver, therefore, which is the 
+effect of lowering the average money price of corn, tends to en- 
+large the greatest and most important market for corn, and thereby 
+to encourage, instead of discouraging its growth. 
+
+Bythe22d of Charles I I.e. 13, the importation of wheat, when- 
+ever thepriceinthehomemarketdid not exceed 53s:4d.thequar- 
+ter, was subjected to a duty of 16s. thequarter; and to a duty of 8s. 
+whenever the price did not exceed £4. The former of these two 
+prices has, for more than a century past, taken placeonly in times 
+
+
+
+of very great scarcity; and the latter has, so far as I know, not taken 
+place at all. Yet, till wheat has risen above this latter price, it was, 
+by this statute, subjected to a very high duty; and, till it had risen 
+above the former, to a duty which amounted to a prohibition. 
+T h e i m portati on of oth er sorts of grai n was restrai n ed at rates an d 
+by duties, in proportion to the value of the grain, almost equally 
+high. Before the 13th of the present king, the following were the 
+duties payableupon the importation of the different sorts of grain: 
+
+Grain. Duties. Duties Duties. 
+
+Beansto 28s. per qr. 19s:10d. after till 40s. 16s:8d. then 12d. 
+Barley to 28s. - 19s:10d. - 32s. 16s. - 12d. 
+Malt is prohibited by the annual malt-tax bill. 
+Oats to 16s. - 5sl0d. after - 9%d. 
+
+Pease to 40s. - 16s: Od. after - 9 3 /4d. 
+
+Rye to 36s. - 19s: lOd. till 40s. 16s:8d - 12d. 
+Wheat to 44s. - 21s: 9d. till 53s:4d. 17s. - 8s. 
+
+till £4, and after that about ls4d. 
+Buck-wheat to 32s. per qr. to pay 16s. 
+
+These different duties wereimposed, partly by the 22d of Charles 
+1 1 . in place of the old subsidy, partly by the new subsidy, by the 
+one-third and two-thirds subsidy, and by the subsidy 1747. Sub- 
+
+
+
+431 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+sequent laws still further increased those duties. 
+
+The distress which, in years of scarcity, the strict execution of 
+those laws might have brought upon the people, would probably 
+have been very great; but, upon such occasions, its execution was 
+generally suspended by temporary statutes, which permitted, for 
+a limited time, the importation of foreign corn. The necessity of 
+these temporary statutes sufficiently demonstrates the impropri- 
+ety of this general one. 
+
+These restraints upon importation, though prior to the estab- 
+lishment of the bounty, were dictated by the same spirit, by the 
+same principles, which afterwards enacted that regulation. How 
+hurtful soever in themselves, these, or some other restraints upon 
+importation, became necessary in consequence of that regulation. 
+If, when wheat was either below 48s. the quarter, or not much 
+above it, foreign corn could have been imported, either duty free, 
+or upon paying only a small duty, it might have been exported 
+again, with the benefit of the bounty, to the great loss of the pub- 
+licrevenue, and to the entire perversion of theinstitution, of which 
+theobject was to extend the market for the homegrowth, not that 
+for the growth of foreign countries. 
+
+1 1 1 . T hetrade of the merchant-exporter of corn for foreign con- 
+sumption, certainly does not contribute directly to the plentiful 
+supply of the home market. It does so, however, indirectly. From 
+
+
+
+whatever source this supply maybe usually drawn, whether from 
+homegrowth, or from foreign importation, unless more corn is 
+either usually grown, or usually imported into the country, than 
+what is usually consumed in it, the supply of the home market 
+can never be very plentiful. But unless thesurpluscan, in all ordi- 
+nary cases, be exported, the growers will be careful never to grow 
+more, and the importers never to import more, than what the 
+bare consumption of the home market requires. That market will 
+very seldom be overstocked; but it will generally be understocked; 
+thepeople, whose businessitisto supply it, being generally afraid 
+lest their goods should be left upon their hands. T he prohibition 
+of exportation limitstheimprovementand cultivation of thecoun- 
+trytowhatthesupplyof its own inhabitants require. Thefreedom 
+of exportation enables it to extend cultivation for the supply of 
+foreign nations. 
+
+By the 12th of C harles 1 1 . c.4, the exportation of corn was per- 
+mitted whenever the price of wheat did not exceed 40s. the quar- 
+ter, and that of other grain in proportion. By the 15th of the same 
+prince, this liberty was extended till the price of wheat exceeded 
+48s. the quarter; and bythe22d, to all higher prices. A poundage, 
+indeed, was to be paid to the king upon such exportation; but all 
+grain was rated so low in the book of rates, that this poundage 
+amounted only, upon wheat to Is., upon oatsto4d., and upon all 
+
+
+
+432 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+other grain to 6d. the quarter. By the 1st of William and M ary, the 
+act which established this bounty this small duty was virtually 
+taken off whenever the price of wheat did not exceed 48s. the 
+quarter; and by the 11th and 12th of Willi am III. c. 20, it was 
+expressly taken off at all higher prices. 
+
+The trade of the merchant-exporter was, in this manner, not 
+only encouraged by a bounty, but rendered much more free than 
+that of the inland dealer. By the last of these statutes, corn could 
+be engrossed at any price for exportation; but it could not be en- 
+grossed for inland sale, except when thepricedid not exceed 48s. 
+the quarter. The interest of the inland dealer, however, it has al- 
+ready been shown, can never be opposite to that of the great body 
+of the people. That of the merchant-exporter may, and in fact 
+sometimes is. If, while his own country labours under a dearth, a 
+neighbouring country should be afflicted with a famine, it might 
+be his interest to carry corn to the latter country, in such quanti- 
+ties as might very much aggravate the calamities of the dearth. 
+The plentiful supply of the home market was not thedirect object 
+of those statutes; but, under the pretence of encouraging agricul- 
+ture, to raise the money price of corn as high as possible, and 
+thereby to occasion, as much as possible, a constant dearth in the 
+home market. By the discouragement of importation, the supply 
+of that market; even in times of great scarcity, was confined to the 
+
+
+
+home growth; and by the encouragement of exportation, when 
+the price was so high as 48s. the quarter, that market was not, 
+even in times of considerable scarcity, allowed to enjoy the whole 
+of that growth. The temporary laws, prohibiting, for a limited 
+time, the exportation of corn, and taking off, for a limited time, 
+the duties upon its importation, expedients to which Great Brit- 
+ain has been obliged so frequently to have recourse, sufficiently 
+demonstrate the impropriety of her general system. H ad that sys- 
+tem been good, she would not so frequently have been reduced to 
+the necessity of departing from it. 
+
+Were all nationsto follow the liberal system of free exportation 
+and freeimportation, thedifferent st atesinto which a great conti- 
+nent wasdivided, would so far resemble the different provincesof 
+a great empire. As among the different provinces of a great em- 
+pire, the freedom of the inland trade appears, both from reason 
+and experience, not only the best palliative of a dearth, but the 
+most effectual preventiveofafamine;sowouldthefreedomofthe 
+exportation and importation trade be among the different states 
+into which a great continent was divided. The larger the conti- 
+nent, theeasierthecommunication through all the different parts 
+of it, both by land and by water, the less would any one particular 
+part of it ever be exposed to either of these calami ties, the scarcity 
+of any one country being more likely to be relieved by the plenty 
+
+
+
+433 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+of some other. But very few countries have entirely adopted this 
+liberal system. Thefreedom of thecorn tradeisalmost everywhere 
+moreorlessrestrained,andin many countriesisconfined by such 
+absurd regulations, as frequently aggravate the unavoidable mis- 
+fortune of a dearth into the dreadful calamity of a famine. The 
+demand of such countriesforcorn may frequently become so great 
+and so urgent, that a small state in their neighbourhood, which 
+happened at the same time to be labouring under some degree of 
+dearth, could not venture to supply them without exposing itself 
+to the like dreadful calamity. The very bad policy of one country 
+may thus render it, in some measure, dangerous and imprudent 
+to establish what would otherwise be the best policy in another. 
+The unlimited freedom of exportation, however, would be much 
+less dangerous in great states, in which the growth being much 
+greater, the supply could seldom be much affected by any quan- 
+tity or corn that was likely to beexported. In aSwisscanton,orin 
+some of the little states in Italy, it may, perhaps, sometimes be 
+necessary to restrain the exportation of corn. In such great coun- 
+tries as France or England, it scarce ever can. To hinder, besides, 
+thefarmer from sending hisgoodsat all times to the best market, 
+is evidently to sacrifice the ordinary laws of justice to an idea of 
+public utility, to a sort of reasons of state; an act or legislative 
+authority which ought to be exercised only, which can be par- 
+
+
+
+doned only, in cases of the most urgent necessity. The price at 
+which exportation of corn is prohibited, if it is ever to be prohib- 
+ited, ought always to be a very high price. 
+
+T he laws concerning corn may everywhere be compared to the 
+laws concerning religion. Thepeoplefeel them selves so much in- 
+terested in what relates either to their subsistence in thislife, or to 
+their happiness in a life to come, that government must yield to 
+their prejudices, and, in order to preserve the public tranquillity, 
+establish that system which they approve of. It is upon this ac- 
+count, perhaps, that we so seldom find a reasonable system estab- 
+lished with regard to either of those two capital objects. 
+
+I V. T he trade of the merchant- carrier, or of the i mporter of for- 
+eign corn, in order to export it again, contributes to the plentiful 
+supply of the home market. It isnot, indeed, thedirect purposeof 
+his trade to sdl his corn there; but he will generally be willing to 
+do so, and even for a good deal less money than he might expect 
+in a foreign market; because he saves in this manner the expense 
+of loading and unloading, of freight and insurance. The inhabit- 
+ants of the country which, by means of the carrying trade, be- 
+comes the magazine and storehouse for the supply of other coun- 
+tries, can very seldom bein want themselves. Though thecarrying 
+trade must thus contribute to reduce the average money price of 
+corn in the home market, it would not thereby lower its real value; 
+
+
+
+434 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+it would only raise somewhat the real value of silver. 
+
+The carrying trade was in effect prohibited in Great Britain, 
+upon all ordinary occasions, by thehigh dutiesupon theimporta- 
+tion of foreign corn, of the greater part of which there was no 
+drawback; and upon extraordinary occasions, when a scarcity made 
+it necessary to suspend those duties by temporary statutes, expor- 
+tation wasalwaysprohibited. Bythissystem of laws, therefore, the 
+carrying trade was in effect prohibited. 
+
+That system of laws, therefore, which is connected with the es- 
+tablishment of the bounty, seems to deserve no part of the praise 
+which has been bestowed upon it. The improvement and prosper- 
+ity of Great Britain, which has been so often ascribed to those 
+laws, may very easily be accounted for by other causes. T hat secu- 
+rity which the laws in Great Britain give to every man, that he 
+shall enjoy thefruitsof hisown labour, is alone sufficient to make 
+any country flourish, notwithstanding these and twenty other 
+absurd regulations of commerce; and this security was perfected 
+by the Revolution, much about the same time that the bounty 
+was established. T henatural effort of every individual to better his 
+own condition, when suffered to exert itself with freedom and 
+security, is so powerful a principle, that it is alone, and without 
+any assistance, not only capableof carrying on the society to wealth 
+and prosperity, but of surmounting a hundred impertinent ob- 
+
+
+
+structions, with which thefolly of human laws too often encum- 
+bers its operations: though the effect of those obstructions is al- 
+ways, more or less, either to encroach upon its freedom, or to 
+diminish its security. In Great Britain industry is perfectly secure; 
+and though it isfarfrom being perfectly free, it is as free or freer 
+than in any other part of Europe. 
+
+T hough the period of the greatest prosperity and improvement of 
+Great Britain has been posterior to that system of laws which iscon- 
+nected with thebounty, wemust not upon that account, imputeitto 
+thoselaws. Ithasbeen posterior likewise to thenational debt; but the 
+national debt has most assuredly not been the cause of it. 
+
+Though thesystem of laws which isconnected with thebounty, 
+has exactly the same tendency with the practice of Spain and Por- 
+tugal, to lower somewhat the value of the precious metals in the 
+country where it takes place; yet Great Britain is certainly one of 
+therichest countriesin Europe, whileSpain and Portugal areper- 
+hapsamongstthemost beggarly. Thisdifferenceof situation, how- 
+ever, may easily be accounted for from two different causes. First, 
+thetaxin Spain, theprohibition in Portugal of exporting gold and 
+silver, and thevigilant police which watches over the execution of 
+thoselaws, must, in two very poor countries, which between them 
+import annually upwards of six millions sterling, operate not only 
+more directly, but much more forcibly, in reducing the value of 
+
+
+
+435 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+those metals there, than the corn laws can do in Great Britain. 
+And, secondly, this bad policy is not in those countries counter- 
+balanced by the general liberty and security of the people. Indus- 
+try is there neither free nor secure; and the civil and ecclesiastical 
+governments of both Spain and Portugal are such as would alone 
+be sufficient to perpetuate their present state of poverty, even 
+though their regulations of commerce were as wise as the greatest 
+part of them are absurd and foolish. 
+
+The 13th of the present king, c. 43, seems to have established a 
+new system with regard to the corn laws, in many respects better 
+than the ancient one, but in oneor two respects perhaps not quite 
+so good. 
+
+By this statute, the high duties upon importation for homecon- 
+sumption are taken off, so soon as the price of middling wheat 
+rises to 48s. the quarter; that of middling rye, pease, or beans, to 
+32s.; that of barley to 24s.; and that of oats to 16s.; and instead of 
+them, a small duty is imposed of only 6d upon the quarter of 
+wheat, and upon that or other grain in proportion. W ith regard to 
+all those different sorts of grain, but particularly with regard to 
+wheat, the home market is thus opened to foreign supplies, at 
+prices considerably lower than before. 
+
+By the same statute, the old bounty of 5s. upon the exportation 
+of wheat, ceases so soon as the price rises to 44s. the quarter, in- 
+
+
+
+stead of 48s. the price at which it ceased before; that of 2s:6d. 
+upon the exportation of barley, ceases so soon as the price rises to 
+22s. instead of 24s. the price at which it ceased before; that of 
+2s:6d. upon theexportation of oatmeal, ceases so soon astheprice 
+rises to 14s. instead of 15s. thepriceat which it ceased before. The 
+bounty upon rye is reduced from 3s:6d. to 3s. and it ceases so 
+soon as the price rises to 28s. instead of 32s. the price at which it 
+ceased before. If bounties are as improper as I have endeavoured 
+to prove them to be, thesooner they cease, and the lower they are, 
+so much the better. 
+
+T he same statute permits, at the lowest prices, the importation 
+of corn in order to be exported again, dutyfree, provided it is in 
+the mean time lodged in a warehouse under thejoint locks of the 
+king and the importer. This liberty, indeed, extends to no more 
+than twenty-five of the different ports of Great Britain. They are, 
+however, theprincipal ones; and theremay not, perhaps, beware- 
+houses proper for this purpose in the greater part of the others. 
+
+So far this law seems evidently an improvement upon the an- 
+cient system. 
+
+But by the same law, a bounty of 2s. the quarter is given for the 
+exportation of oats, whenever the price does not exceed fourteen 
+shillings. No bounty had ever been given before for the exporta- 
+tion of this grain, no more than for that of pease or beans. 
+
+
+
+436 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+By the same law, too, the exportation of wheat is prohibited so 
+soon as the price rises to forty-four shillings the quarter; that of 
+rye so soon as it rises to twenty-eight shillings; that of barley so 
+soon asit rises to twenty-two shillings; and that of oats so soon as 
+they rise to fourteen shillings Those several pricesseemallofthem 
+a good deal too low; and there seems to be an impropriety, be- 
+sides, in prohibiting exportation altogether at those precise prices 
+at which that bounty, which was given in order to forceit, iswith- 
+drawn.Thebounty ought certainly either to have been withdrawn 
+at a much lower price, or exportation ought to have been allowed 
+at a much higher. 
+
+So far, therefore, this law seems to be inferior to the ancient 
+system. With all its imperfections, however, we may perhaps say 
+of it what was said of the laws of Solon, that though not the best 
+in itself, it isthe best which the interest, prejudices, and temper of 
+thetimes, would admit of. It may perhaps in duetime prepare the 
+way for a better. 
+
+
+
+CHAPTERVI 
+
+OFTREATIESOFCOMMERCE 
+
+When a nation binds itself by treaty, either to permit the entry 
+of certain goodsfrom oneforeign country which it prohibits from 
+all others, or to exempt the goods of one country from duties to 
+which it subjects those of all others, the country, or at least the 
+merchants and manufacturers of the country, whose commerce is 
+so favoured, must necessarily derive great advantagefrom thetreaty. 
+T hose merchants and manufacturers enjoy a sort of monopoly in 
+thecountry which is so indulgent to them. T hat country becomes 
+a market, both more extensive and more advantageous for their 
+goods: more extensive, because the goods of other nations being 
+either excluded or subjected to heavier duties, it takes off a greater 
+quantity of theirs; more advantageous, because the merchants of 
+thefavoured country, enjoying a sort of monopoly there, will of- 
+ten sell their goods for a better price than if exposed to the free 
+competition of all other nations. 
+
+Such treaties, however, though theymaybeadvantageoustothe 
+merchants and manufacturers of thefavoured, are necessarily dis- 
+advantageous to those of the favouring country. A monopoly is 
+thus granted against them to a foreign nation; and they must fre- 
+
+
+
+437 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+quently buy thefordgn goodsthey have occasion for, dearer than 
+if thefree competition of other nations was admitted. That part of 
+its own produce with which such a nation purchases foreign goods, 
+must consequently be sold cheaper; because, when two things are 
+exchanged for oneanother, thecheapnessoftheoneisa necessary 
+consequence, or rather isthesame thing, with thedearness of the 
+other. The exchangeable value of its annual produce, therefore, is 
+likely to be diminished by every such treaty. This diminution, 
+however, can scarce amount to any positive loss, but only to a 
+lessening of the gain which it might otherwise make. T hough it 
+sellsitsgoodscheaperthanitotherwisemightdo, itwill not prob- 
+ably sell them for less than they cost; nor, as in the case of boun- 
+ties, for a price which will not replace the capital employed in 
+bringing them to market, together with the ordinary profits of 
+stock. T hetradecould not go on long if it did. Even thefavouring 
+country, therefore, may still gain by thetrade, though less than if 
+there was a free competition . 
+
+Some treaties of commerce, however, have been supposed ad- 
+vantageous, upon principles very different from these; and a com- 
+mercial country has sometimes granted a monopoly of this kind, 
+against itself, to certain goods of a foreign nation, because it ex- 
+pected, that in the whole commerce between them, it would an- 
+nually sell more than it would buy, andthatabalancein gold and 
+
+
+
+silver would be annually returned to it. It is upon this principle 
+that the treaty of commerce between England and Portugal, con- 
+cluded in 1703 by M r M ethuen, has been so much commended. 
+Thefollowing is a literal translation of that treaty, which consists 
+of three articles only. 
+
+ART. I. 
+
+H is sacred royal majesty of Portugal promises, both in his own 
+name and that of his successors, to admit for ever hereafter, into 
+Portugal, thewoollen cloths, and therest of thewoollen manufac- 
+tures of the British, as was accustomed, till they were prohibited 
+by the law; nevertheless upon this condition: 
+
+ART. II. 
+
+That isto say, that her sacred royal majesty of Great Britain shall, 
+in her own name, and that of her successors, be obliged, for ever 
+hereafter, to admit the wines of the growth of Portugal into Brit- 
+ain; so that at no time, whether there shall be peace or war be- 
+tween the kingdoms of Britain and France, anything more shall 
+be demanded for these wines by the name of custom or duty, or 
+by whatsoever other title, directly or indirectly, whether they shall 
+
+
+
+438 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+be imported into Great Britain in pipes or hogsheads, or other 
+casks, than what shall be demanded for the like quantity or mea- 
+sureof French wine, deducting or abating a third part of thecus- 
+tom or duty. But if, at any time, this deduction or abatement of 
+customs, which isto be madeasaforesaid, shall in any manner be 
+attempted and prejudiced, it shall bejustand lawful for hissacred 
+royal majesty of Portugal, again to prohibit the woollen cloths, 
+and the rest of the British woollen manufactures. 
+
+ART. III. 
+
+T he most excellent lords the plenipotentiaries promise and take 
+upon themselves, that their above named masters shall ratify this 
+treaty; and within the space of two months the ratification shall 
+be exchanged. 
+
+By this treaty, the crown of Portugal becomes bound to admit 
+theEnglish woollensuponthesamefootingas before theprohibi- 
+tion; that is, not to raise the duties which had been paid before 
+that time. But it does not become bound to admit them upon any 
+better termsthan those of any other nation, of France or H olland, 
+for example. The crown of Great Britain, on the contrary, be- 
+comes bound to admit the wines of Portugal, upon paying only 
+two-thirdsoftheduty which is paid for those of France, the wines 
+
+
+
+most likely to come into competition with them. So far thistreaty, 
+therefore, is evidently advantageous to Portugal, and disadvanta- 
+geous to Great Britain. 
+
+It has been celebrated, however, as a masterpiece of the com- 
+mercial policy of England. Portugal receives annually from the 
+Brazils a greater quantity of gold than can be employed in its do- 
+mestic commerce, whether in the shape of coin or of plate. T he 
+surplus is too valuable to be allowed to lie idle and locked up in 
+coffers; and as it can find no advantageous market at home, it 
+must, notwithstanding; any prohibition, be sent abroad, and ex- 
+changed for something for which there is a more advantageous 
+market at home. A large shareof it comes annually to England, in 
+return either for English goods, or for those of other European 
+nations that receive their returns through England. M r Barretti 
+was informed, that the weekly packet-boat from Lisbon brings, 
+one week with another, more than £50,000 in gold to England. 
+Thesum had probably been exaggerated. It would amountto more 
+than £2,600,000 a year, which is more than the Brazils are sup- 
+posed to afford. 
+
+O ur merchants were, some years ago, out of humour with the 
+crown of Portugal. Some privileges which had been granted them, 
+not by treaty, but by the free grace of that crown, at the solicita- 
+tion, indeed, it isprobable, and in return for much greater favours, 
+
+
+
+439 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+defence and protection from the crown of Great Britain, had been 
+either infringed or revoked. The people, therefore, usually most 
+interested in celebrating the Portugal trade, were then rather dis- 
+posed to represent it as less advantageous than it had commonly 
+been imagined. The far greater part, almost the whole, they pre- 
+tended, of this annual importation of gold, was not on account of 
+Great Britain, but of other European nations; thefruits and wines 
+of Portugal annually imported into Great Britain nearly compen- 
+sating the value of the British goods sent thither. 
+
+Letussuppose, however, that the whole was on account of Great 
+Britain, and that it amounted to a still greater sum than M r Barretti 
+seemsto imagine; this trade would not, upon that account, bemore 
+advantageous than any other, in which, for the same value sent out, 
+we received an equal valueof consumable goods in return. 
+
+It is but a very small part of this importation which, it can be 
+supposed, isemployed as an annual addition, either to the plate or 
+tothecoin of the kingdom. The rest must all be sent abroad, and 
+exchanged for consumable goods of some kind or other. But if 
+those consumable goods were purchased directly with the pro- 
+duce of English industry, it would be more for the advantage of 
+England, than first to purchase with that produce thegold of Por- 
+tugal, and afterwards to purchase with that gold those consum- 
+able goods. A direct foreign trade of consumption is always more 
+
+
+
+advantageousthan a round-about one; and to bring thesamevalue 
+of foreign goodsto the home market requiresamuch smaller capital 
+in the one way than in theether. If a smaller shareof its industry, 
+therefore, had been employed in producing goods fit for the Por- 
+tugal market, and a greater in producing those lit for the other 
+markets, where those consumable goods for which there is a de- 
+mand in Great Britain are to be had, it would have been more for 
+the advantage of England. To procure both thegold which it wants 
+for its own use, and the consumable goods, would, in this way, 
+employ a much smaller capital than at present. T here would be a 
+spare capital, therefore, to be employed for other purposes, in ex- 
+citing an additional quantity of industry, and in raising a greater 
+annual produce. 
+
+Though Britain were entirely excluded from the Portugal trade, 
+it could find very little difficulty in procuring all the annual sup- 
+pliesof gold which it wants, either for the purposes of plate, or of 
+coin, or of foreign trade. Gold, like every other commodity, is 
+always somewhere or another to be got for its value by those who 
+have that valueto give for it.Theannual surplusof gold in Portu- 
+gal, besides, would still be sent abroad, and though not carried 
+away by Great Britain, would be carried away by some other na- 
+tion, which would beglad to sell it again for its price, in thesame 
+manner as Great Britain does at present. In buying gold of Portu- 
+
+
+
+440 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+gal, indeed, we buy it at the first hand; whereas, in buying it of 
+any other nation, except Spain, we should buy it at the second, 
+and might pay somewhat dearer. This difference, however, would 
+surely be too insignificant to deserve the public attention. 
+
+Almost all our gold, it is said, comes from Portugal. With other 
+nations, the balance of trade is either against as, or not much in our 
+favour. But we should remember, that the more gold we import 
+from onecountry, the less we must necessarily import from all oth- 
+ers. T he effectual demand for gold, like that for every other com- 
+modity, is in every country limited to a certain quantity. If nine 
+tenths of this quantity are imported from one country, there re- 
+mains a tenth only to be imported from all others. The more gold, 
+besides, that is annually imported from some particular countries, 
+over and above what is requisite for plate and for coin, the more 
+must necessarily be exported to some others: and the more that 
+most insignificant object of modern policy, the balance of trade, 
+appearsto bein ourfavour with some particular countries, themore 
+it must necessarily appear to be against us with many others. 
+
+It was upon this silly notion, however, that England could not 
+subsist without the Portugal trade, that, towards the end of the 
+late war, France and Spain, without pretending either offence or 
+provocation, required the king of Portugal to exclude all British 
+ships from his ports, and, for the security of this exclusion, to 
+
+
+
+receive into them French or Spanish garrisons. H ad the king of 
+Portugal submitted to thoseignominioustermswhich hisbrother- 
+in-law the king of Spain proposed to him, Britain would have 
+been freed from a much greater inconveniency than thelossof the 
+Portugal trade, the burden of supporting a very weak ally, so un- 
+provided of every thing for his own defence, that the whole power 
+of England, had it been directed to that single purpose, could 
+scarce, perhaps, have defended him for another campaign. The 
+loss of the Portugal trade would, no doubt, have occasioned a 
+considerableembarrassment to themerchants at that timeen gaged 
+in it, who might not, perhaps, have found out, for a year or two, 
+any other equally advantageous method of employing their capi- 
+tals; and in this would probably have consisted all the inconve- 
+niency which England could have suffered from this notable piece 
+of commercial policy. 
+
+The great annual importation of gold and silver is neither for 
+the purpose of plate nor of coin, but of foreign trade. A round- 
+about foreign trade of consumption can be carried on more ad- 
+vantageously by means of these metals than of almost any other 
+goods. As they are the universal instruments of commerce, they 
+are more readily received in return for all commodities than any 
+other goods; and, on account of their small bulk and great value, 
+it costs less to transport them backward and forward from one 
+
+
+
+441 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+place to another than almost any other sort of merchandize, and 
+they lose less of their value by being so transported. Of all the 
+commodities, therefore, which are bought in oneforeign country, 
+for no other purpose but to be sold or exchanged again for some 
+other goods in another, there are none so convenient as gold and 
+silver. In facilitating all thedifferent round-about foreign tradesof 
+consumption which are carried on in Great Britain, consists the 
+principal advantage of the Portugal trade; and though it is not a 
+capital advantage, it is, no doubt, a considerable one. 
+
+That any annual addition which, it can reasonably be supposed, 
+is made either to the plate or to the coin of the kingdom, could 
+require but a very small annual importation of gold and silver, 
+seems evident enough; and though we had no direct trade with 
+Portugal, thissmall quantity could always, somewhere or another, 
+be very easily got. 
+
+Though thegoldsmithstradebe very considerable in Great Brit- 
+ain, thefar greater part of the new plate which they annually sell, 
+is made from other old plate melted down; so that the addition 
+annually made to the whole plate of the kingdom cannot be very 
+great, and could require but a very small annual importation. 
+
+It is the same case with the coin. Nobody imagines, I believe, 
+that even the greater part of the annual coinage, amounting, for 
+ten years together, before the late reformation of thegold coin, to 
+
+
+
+upwards of £800,000 a-year in gold, was an annual addition to 
+themoneybeforecurrentin thekingdom. In a country where the 
+expense of the coinage is defrayed by the government, thevalueof 
+the coin, even when it contains its full standard weight of gold 
+and silver, can never be much greater than that of an equal quan- 
+tity of those metals uncoined, because it requires only the trouble 
+of going to the mint, and the delay, perhaps, of a few weeks, to 
+procure for any quantity of uncoined gold and silver an equal 
+quantity of those metals in coin; but in every country the greater 
+part of the current coin is almost always more or less worn, or 
+otherwise degenerated from its standard. In Great Britain it was, 
+before the late reformation, a good deal so, the gold being more 
+than two per cent., and thesilver more than eight per cent, below 
+its standard weight. But if forty-four guineas and a- half, contain- 
+ing their full standard weight, a pound weight of gold, could pur- 
+chase very little more than a pound weight of uncoined gold; forty- 
+four guineas and a-half, wanting a part of their weight, could not 
+purchase a pound weight, and something was to be added, in or- 
+der to makeupthedeficiency.Thecurrentpriceof gold bullion at 
+market, therefore, instead of being the same with the mint price, 
+or £46:14:6, was then about f 47:14s., and sometimes about £48. 
+W hen thegreater part of thecoin, however, was in this degenerate 
+condition, fortyfour guineasand a-half, fresh from themint, would 
+
+
+
+442 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+purchase no more goods in the market than any other ordinary 
+guineas; because, when they came into the coffers of the mer- 
+chant, being confounded with other money, they could not after- 
+wards be distinguished without more trouble than thedifference 
+was worth. Like other guineas, they were worth no more than 
+£46:14:6. If thrown into themelting pot, however, they produced, 
+without any sensible loss, a pound weight of standard gold, which 
+could be sold at any timefor between £47:14s. and £48, either in 
+gold or silver, as fit for all the purposes of coin as that which had 
+been melted down. There was an evident profit, therefore, in melt- 
+ing down new-coined money; and it wasdoneso instantaneously, 
+that no precaution of government could prevent it. The opera- 
+tions of the mint were, upon thisaccount, somewhat likethe web 
+of Pen elope; thework that wasdoneinthedaywasundonein the 
+night. The mint was employed, not so much in making daily ad- 
+ditions to the coin, as in replacing the very best part of it, which 
+was daily melted down. 
+
+Were the private people who carry their gold and silver to the 
+mint to pay themselves for thecoinage, it would add to the value 
+of those metals, in thesame manner as thefashion doestothatof 
+plate. Coined gold and silver would be more valuable than 
+uncoined. T he seignorage, if it was not exorbitant, would add to 
+the bullion the whole value of the duty; because, thegovernment 
+
+
+
+having everywhere the exclusive privilegeof coining, no coin can 
+cometo market cheaper than they think proper to afford it. I f the 
+duty was exorbitant, indeed, that is, if it was very much above the 
+real value of the labour and expense requisite for coinage, false 
+coiners, both at home and abroad, might be encouraged, by the 
+great difference between the value of bullion and that of coin, to 
+pour in so great a quantity of counterfeit money as might reduce 
+the value of thegovernment money. In France, however, though 
+theseignorage is eight per cent., no sensible inconveniency of this 
+kind isfound to arise from it. The dangers to which a false coiner 
+is everywhere exposed, if helivesinthecountry of which hecoun- 
+terfeits the coin, and to which his agents or correspondents are 
+exposed, if he lives in a foreign country, are by far too great to be 
+incurred for the sake of a profit of six or seven per cent. 
+
+The seignorage in France raises the value of thecoin higher than 
+in proportion to thequantity of puregold which it contains. T hus, 
+bytheedictof January 1726, themint priceof finegold of twenty- 
+four carats was fixed at seven hundred and forty livres nine sous 
+and one denier one-eleventh the mark of eight Paris ounces. {See 
+DictionnairedesMonnoies, torn. ii. article Seigneu rage, p. 439, 
+par 81. Abbot deBazinghen, Conseiller-Commissaireen laCour 
+des M onnoiesa Pari s.}T he gold coin of France, making an allow- 
+ance for the remedy of the mint, contains twenty-one carats and 
+
+
+
+443 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+three-fourthsof finegold, and two carats one-fourth of alloy. The 
+mark of standard gold, therefore, is worth no more than about six 
+hundred and seventy-one I ivres ten deniers. But in France this 
+mark of standard gold is coined into thirty louisd'ors of twenty- 
+four livres each, or into seven hundred and twenty livres. The 
+coinage, therefore, increases the value of a mark of standard gold 
+bullion, by the difference between six hundred and seventy-one 
+livres ten deniers and seven hundred and twenty livres, or by forty- 
+eight livres nineteen sous and two deniers. 
+
+A seignoragewill, in many cases, takeaway altogether, and will 
+in all cases diminish, the profit of melting down the new coin. 
+Thisprofit always arises from the difference between thequantity 
+of bullion which thecommon currency ought to contain and that 
+which it actually does contain. If this difference is less than the 
+seignorage, there will belossinstead of profit. If itisequal to the 
+seignorage, there will beneither profit nor loss. If it isgreater than 
+the seignorage, there will, indeed, be some profit, but less than if 
+therewasno seignorage. If, before the late reformation of thegold 
+coin, for example, there had been a seignorage of five per cent, 
+upon the coinage, there would have been a loss of three per cent, 
+upon the melting down of the gold coin. If the seignorage had 
+been two per cent., there would have been neither profit nor loss. 
+If the seignorage had been one per cent., there would have been a 
+
+
+
+profit but of one per cent, only, instead of two per cent. Wherever 
+money is received by tale, therefore, and not by weight, a seignor- 
+age is the most effectual preventive of the melting down of the 
+coin, and, for thesame reason, of its exportation. It is the best and 
+heaviest piecesthatarecommonly either melted down or exported, 
+because it is upon such that the largest profits are made. 
+
+T he law for the encouragement of the coinage, by rendering it 
+duty-free, was first enacted during the reign of Charles II. for a 
+limited time, and afterwards continued, by different prolonga- 
+tions, till 1769, when it was rendered perpetual. The bank of En- 
+gland, in order to replenish their coffers with money, are frequently 
+obliged to carry bullion to the mint; and it was more for their 
+interest, they probably imagined, that the coinage should be at 
+theexpenseof the government than attheirown. Itwas probably 
+out of complaisance to this great company, that the government 
+agreed to render this law perpetual. Should the custom of weigh- 
+ing gold, however, come to be disused, asit is very likely to beon 
+account of its inconveniency; should the gold coin of England 
+cometo be received by tale, as it was before the late recoinage this 
+great company may, perhaps, find that they have, upon this, as 
+upon someother occasions, mistaken their own interest not a little. 
+
+Before the late recoinage, when the gold currency of England 
+was two per cent, below its standard weight, as there was no sei- 
+
+
+
+444 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+gnorage, it was two per cent, below the value of that quantity of 
+standard gold bullion which it ought to have contained. When 
+this great company, therefore, bought gold bullion in order to 
+have it coined, they were obliged to pay for it two per cent, more 
+than it was worth after thecoinage. But if therehad been aseignor- 
+ageof two per cent, upon thecoinage, the common gold currency, 
+though two per cent, below its standard weight, would, notwith- 
+standing, have been equal in valuetothequantity of standard gold 
+which it oughtto have contained; thevalueofthefashion compen- 
+sating in this case the diminution of the weight. They would, in- 
+deed, have had the seignorage to pay, which being two per cent., 
+their lossupon thewholetransaction would have been two percent, 
+exactly the same, but no greater than it actually was. 
+
+If the seignorage had been five per cent, and the gold currency 
+only two per cent, below its standard weight, the bank would, in 
+thiscase, have gained three per cent, upon theprice of thebullion; 
+but as they would have had a seignorage of five per cent, to pay 
+upon thecoinage, their lossupon thewholetransaction would, in 
+the same manner, have been exactly two per cent. 
+
+I f the seignorage had been only one per cent., and the gold cur- 
+rency two per cent, below its standard weight, the bank would, in 
+thiscase, have lost only one per cent, upon the price of the bullion; 
+but as they would likewise have had a seignorageof one per cent, to 
+
+
+
+pay, their lossupon thewholetransaction would have been exactly 
+two percent., in the same manner as in all other cases. 
+
+If there was a reason able seignorage, whileat the same time the 
+coin contained its full standard weight, as it has done very nearly 
+since the late recoinage, whatever the bank might lose by the sei- 
+gnorage, they would gain upon theprice of thebullion; and what- 
+ever they might gain upon the price of the bullion, they would 
+lose by the seignorage. T hey would neither lose nor gain, there- 
+fore, upon thewholetransaction, and they would in this, asin all 
+theforegoing cases, be exactly in thesamesituation asif therewas 
+no seignorage. 
+
+W hen the tax upon a commodity is so moderate as not to en- 
+courage smuggling, the merchant who deals in it, though he ad- 
+vances, does not properly pay the tax, as he gets it back in the 
+price of the commodity. The tax is finally paid by the last pur- 
+chaser or consumer. But money is a commodity, with regard to 
+which every man is a merchant. N obody buys it but in order to 
+sell it again; and with regard to itthereis, in ordinary cases, no last 
+purchaser or consumer. W hen the tax upon coinage, therefore, is 
+so moderate asnot to encourage false coining, though every body 
+advances the tax, nobody finally pays it; because every body gets it 
+back in the advanced value of the coin. 
+
+A moderate seignorage, therefore, would not, in any case, aug- 
+
+
+
+445 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+merit theexpenseof the bank, or of any other private persons who 
+carry their bullion to themint in order to be coined; and thewant 
+of amoderateseignoragedoesnotin any casediminish it. Whether 
+there is or is not a seignorage, if the currency contains its full 
+standard weight, the coinagecosts nothing to anybody; and if it is 
+short of that weight, the coinage must always cost the difference 
+between the quantity of bullion which ought to be contained in 
+it, and that which actually is contained in it. 
+
+The government, therefore, when it defrays theexpenseof coin- 
+age, not only incurs some small expense, but loses some small 
+revenuewhich it might get by a proper duty; and neither thebank, 
+nor any other private persons, are in the smallest degree benefited 
+by this useless piece of public generosity. 
+
+The directors of thebank, however, would probably be unwill- 
+ing to agree to the imposition of a seignorage upon the authority 
+of a speculation which promises them no gain, but only pretends 
+to insure them from any loss. In thepresent state of thegold coin, 
+and as long as it continues to be received by weight, they certainly 
+would gain nothing by such a change. But if thecustom of weigh- 
+ing thegold coin should ever go into disuse, as it is very likely to 
+do, and if the gold coin should ever fall into the same state of 
+degradation in which i t was before the I ate recoin age, thegain, or 
+more properly the savings, of thebank, inconsequence of theim- 
+
+
+
+position of a seignorage, would probably be very considerable. 
+Thebank of England istheonly company which sends any con- 
+siderable quantity of bullion to the mint, and the burden of the 
+annual coinage falls entirely, or almost entirely, upon it. If this 
+annual coinage had nothing to do but to repair the unavoidable 
+losses and necessary wear and tear of the coin, it could seldom 
+exceed fifty thousand, or at most a hundred thousand pounds. 
+But when the coin is degraded below its standard weight, the an- 
+nual coinage must, besides this, fill up the large vacuities which 
+exportation and the melting pot are continually making in the 
+current coin. It was upon this account, that during the ten or 
+twelve years immediately preceding the late reformation of the 
+gold coin, the annual coinage amounted, at an average, to more 
+than £850,000. But if there had been a seignorage of four or five 
+percent, upon thegold coin, it would probably, even in the state 
+in which things then were, have put an effectual stop to the busi- 
+ness both of exportation and of the melting pot. The bank, in- 
+stead of losing every year about two and a half per cent, upon the 
+bullion which was to be coined into more than eight hundred and 
+fifty thousand pounds, or incurring an annual loss of more than 
+£21,250 pounds, would not probably have incurred thetenth part 
+of that loss. 
+T he revenue allotted by parliament for defraying theexpenseof 
+
+
+
+446 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+the coinage is but fourteen thousand pounds a-year; and the real 
+expense which it costs the government, or the fees of the officers 
+of the mint, do not, upon ordinary occasions, I am assured, ex- 
+ceed the half of that sum. The saving of so very small a sum, or 
+even thegaining of another, which could not well bemuch larger, 
+are objects too inconsiderable, it may bethought, to deserve the 
+serious attention of government. But the saving of eighteen or 
+twenty thousand pounds a-year, in case of an event which is not 
+improbable, which has frequently happened before, and which is 
+very likely to happen again, issurely an object which well deserves 
+the serious attention, even of so great a company as the bank of 
+England. 
+
+Some of the foregoing reasonings and observations might, per- 
+haps, have been more properly placed in those chapters of the first 
+book which treat of the origin and use of money, and of thediffer- 
+encebetween thereal and thenominal priceof commodities. Butas 
+the law for the encouragement of coinage derives its origin from 
+those vulgar prejudices which have been introduced bythemercan- 
+tilesystem, I judged it moreproperto reserve them for thischapter. 
+N othing could bemoreagreeableto thespirit of that system than a 
+sort of bounty upon theproduction of money, thevery thing which, 
+it supposes, constitutes the wealth of every nation. It is one of its 
+many admirableexpedientsfor enriching the country. 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII 
+OFCOLONIES 
+
+PART I 
+
+Of the Motives for Establishing New Colonies 
+
+The interest which occasioned the first settlement of the differ- 
+ent European colonies in America and the West Indies, was not 
+altogether so plain and distinct as that which directed the estab- 
+lishment of those of ancient G reece and Rome. 
+
+A 1 1 th e d i f f eren t states of an ci en t G reece possessed , each of th em , 
+but a very small territory; and when the people in anyone of them 
+multiplied beyond what that territory could easily maintain, apart 
+of them were sent in quest of a new habitation, in some remote 
+and distant part of the world; the warlike neighbours who sur- 
+rounded them on all sides, rendering it difficult for any of them to 
+enlarge very much itsterritory at home. T hecoloniesof the D orians 
+resorted chiefly to Italy and Sicily, which, in the times preceding 
+thefoundation of Rome, wereinhabited by barbarous and uncivi- 
+lized nations; those of the lonians and Aeolians, the two other 
+great tribes of the Greeks, to Asia M inor and the islands of the 
+
+
+
+447 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+Aegean sea, of which the inhabitants sewn at that time to have 
+been pretty much in thesamestate as those of Sicily and Italy. The 
+mother city though she considered the colony as a child, at all 
+times entitled to great favour and assistance, and owing in return 
+much gratitude and respect, yet considered it as an emancipated 
+child, over whom she pretended to claim no direct authority or 
+jurisdiction. The colony settled its own form of government, en- 
+acted its own laws, elected its own magistrates, and madepeaceor 
+war with its neighbours, as an independent state, which had no 
+occasion to wait for the approbation or consent of the mother 
+city. Nothing can be more plain and distinct than the interest 
+which directed every such establishment. 
+
+Rome, like most of the other ancient republics, was originally 
+founded upon an agrarian law, which divided the public territory, 
+in a certain proportion, among the different citizens who com- 
+posed the state. The course of human affairs, by marriage, by suc- 
+cession, and by alienation, necessarily deranged thisoriginal divi- 
+sion, and frequently threw the lands which had been allotted for 
+the maintenance of many different families, into thepossession of 
+a single person. To remedy this disorder, for such it was supposed 
+to be, a law was made, restricting the quantity of land which any 
+citizen could possess to five hundred jugera; about 350 English 
+acres. This law, however, though we read of its having been ex- 
+
+
+
+ecuted upon oneor two occasions, was either neglected or evaded, 
+and theinequality of fortuneswent on continually increasing. The 
+greater part of the citizens had no land; and without it the man- 
+ners and customsof those times rendered it difficult for a freeman 
+to maintain his independency. In the present times, though a poor 
+man has no land of his own, if he has a little stock, he may either 
+farm the lands of another, or he may carry on some little retail 
+trade; and if he has no stock, he may find employment either as a 
+country labourer, or as an artificer. But among the ancient Ro- 
+mans, the lands of the rich were all cultivated by slaves, who 
+wrought under an overseer, who was likewise a slave; so that a 
+poor freeman had littlechanceof being employed either asa farmer 
+or as a labourer. All trades and manufactures, too, even the retail 
+trade, were carried on by the slaves of the rich for the benefit of 
+their masters, whose wealth, authority, and protection, made it 
+difficult for a poor freeman to maintain the competition against 
+them. The citizens, therefore, who had no land, had scarce any 
+other means of subsistence but the bounties of the candidates at 
+theannual elections. The tribunes, when they had a mind to ani- 
+mate the people against the rich and thegreat, put them in mind 
+of the ancient divisions of lands, and represented that law which 
+restricted this sort of private property as the fundamental law of 
+the republic. T he people became clamorous to get land, and the 
+
+
+
+448 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+rich and thegreat, we may believe, were perfectly determined not 
+to give them any part of theirs. To satisfy them in some measure, 
+therefore, they frequently proposed to send out a new colony. But 
+conquering Rome was, even upon such occasions, under no ne- 
+cessity of turning out her citizens to seek their fortune, if one may 
+so, through the wide world, without knowing where they were to 
+settle. She assigned them lands generally in the conquered prov- 
+inces of Italy, where, being within the dominions of the republic, 
+they could never form any independent state, but were at best but 
+a sort of corporation, which, though it had the power of enacting 
+bye-laws for its own government, was at all times subject to the 
+correction, jurisdiction, and legislative authority of the mother 
+city. The sending out a colony of this kind not only gave some 
+satisfaction to the people, but often established a sort of garrison, 
+too, in a newly conquered province, of which theobediencemight 
+otherwise have been doubtful. A Roman colony, therefore, whether 
+we consider the nature of the establishment itself, or the motives 
+for making it, was altogether different from a Greek one. The 
+words, accordingly, which in the original languages denote those 
+different establishments, have very different meanings. The Latin 
+word (colonia) signifies simply a plantation. The Greek word 
+(apoixia), on thecontrary, signifies a separation of dwelling, a de- 
+parture from home, a going out of the house. But though the 
+
+
+
+Roman colonies were, in many respects, different from the Greek 
+ones, the interest which prompted to establish them was equally 
+plain and distinct. Both institutions derived their origin, either 
+from irresistible necessity, or from clear and evident utility. 
+
+The establishment of the European colonies in America and the 
+West Indies arose from no necessity; and though the utility which 
+has resulted from them has been very great, it is not altogether so 
+clear and evident. It was not understood at their first establishment, 
+and was not the motive, either of that establishment, or of the dis- 
+coveries which gaveoccasion to it; and thenature, extent, and limits 
+of that utility, are not, perhaps, well understood at this day. 
+
+The Venetians, during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, 
+carried on a very advantageous commerce in spiceries and other 
+East India goods, which they distributed among theother nations 
+of Europe. They purchased them chiefly in Egypt, at that time 
+under thedominion of the Mamelukes, the enemies of theTurks, 
+of whom the Venetians were the enemies; and this union of inter- 
+est, assisted by the money of Venice, formed such a connexion as 
+gave the Venetians almost a monopoly of the trade. 
+
+Thegreat profits of the Venetians tempted theavidity of the Por- 
+tuguese. They had been endeavouring, during the courseof thefif- 
+teenth century, to find out by sea a way to thecountriesfrom which 
+theM oors brought them ivory and gold dust across the desert. They 
+
+
+
+449 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+discovered theM adeiras, theCanaries, theAzores, theCapedeVerd 
+islands, the coast of Guinea, that of Loango, Congo, Angola, and 
+Benguela, and, finally, the Cape of Good Hope. They had long 
+wished to share in the profitable traffic of the Venetians, and this 
+last discovery opened to them a probable prospect of doing so. In 
+1497, Vascode Gamo sailed from the port of Lisbon with a fleet of 
+four ships, and, after a navigation of eleven months, arrived upon 
+the coast of Indostan; and thus completed a course of discoveries 
+which had been pursued with great steadiness, and with very little 
+interruption, for near a century together. 
+
+Some years before this, while the expectations of Europe were 
+in suspense about the projects of the Portuguese, of which the 
+success appeared yet to be doubtful, a Genoese pilot formed the 
+yet more daring project of sailing to the East Indies by the west. 
+The situation of those countries was at that time very imperfectly 
+known in EuropeThefew European travellers who had been there, 
+had magnified thedistance, perhaps through simplicity and igno- 
+rance; what was reallyvery great, appearing almost infinite to those 
+who could not measure it; or, perhaps, in order to increase some- 
+what more the marvellous of their own adventures in visiting re 
+gionsso immensely remote from Europe. The longer the way was 
+bytheeast, Columbus veryjustly concluded, theshorter it would 
+be by the west. H e proposed, therefore, to take that way, as both 
+
+
+
+the shortest and the surest, and he had the good fortune to con- 
+vince Isabella of Castile of the probability of hisproject. Hesailed 
+from the port of Palos in August 1492, near five years before the 
+expedition of Vasco de Gamo set out from Portugal; and, after a 
+voyage of between two and three months, discovered first some of 
+the small Bahama or Lucyan islands, and afterwards the great is- 
+land of St. Domingo. 
+
+But thecountries which Columbus discovered, either in thisor 
+in any of his subsequent voyages, had no resemblance to those 
+which he had gone in quest of. Instead of the wealth, cultivation, 
+and populousness of China and Indostan, he found, in St. 
+D omingo, and in all the other parts of the new world which he 
+ever visited, nothing but a country quite covered with wood, un- 
+cultivated, and inhabited only by sometribesof naked and miser- 
+able savages. H e was not very willing, however, to believe that 
+they were not the same with some of the countries described by 
+M arco Polo, thefirst European who had visited, or at least had left 
+behind him any description of China or the East Indies; and a 
+very slight resemblance, such as that which hefound between the 
+nameof C ibao, a mountain in St. D omingo, and that of C ipange, 
+mentioned by M arco Polo, was frequently sufficient to make him 
+return to this favourite prepossession, though contrary to the 
+clearest evidence. In hislettersto Ferdinand and Isabella, hecalled 
+
+
+
+450 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+the countries which he had discovered the Indies. He entertained 
+no doubt but that they were the extremity of those which had 
+been described by M arco Polo, and that they were not very distant 
+from theGanges, or from thecountries which had been conquered 
+by Alexander. Even when at last convinced that they were differ- 
+ent, he still flattered himself that those rich countries were at no 
+great distance; and in a subsequent voyage, accordingly, went in 
+quest of them along the coast of Terra Firma, and towards the 
+Isthmus of Dari en. 
+
+In consequence of this mistake of Columbus, the name of the 
+Indies has stuck to those unfortunate countries ever since; and 
+when it was at last clearly discovered that the new were altogether 
+different from the old Indies, the former were called the West, in 
+contradistinction to the latter, which were called the East Indies. 
+
+It was of importance to Columbus, however, that the countries 
+which he had discovered, whatever they were, should be repre- 
+sented to the court of Spain as of very great consequence; and, in 
+what constitutes the real riches of every country, the animal and 
+vegetable productions of the soil, there was at that time nothing 
+which could well justify such a representation of them. 
+
+Thecori, something between a rat and a rabbit, and supposed 
+by M r Buffon to be the same with theaperea of Brazil, was the 
+largest viviparous quadruped in St. Domingo. This species seems 
+
+
+
+never to have been very numerous; and the dogs and cats of the 
+Spaniardsare said to have long ago almost entirely extirpated it, as 
+well as some other tribes of a still smaller size. These, however, 
+together with a pretty large lizard, called the ivana or iguana, con- 
+stituted the principal part of the animal food which the land af- 
+forded. 
+
+The vegetable food of the inhabitants, though, from their want 
+of industry, not very abundant, was not altogether so scanty. It 
+consisted in Indian corn, yams, potatoes, bananas, etc., plants 
+which were then altogether unknown in Europe, and which have 
+never since been very much esteemed in it, or supposed to yield a 
+sustenance equal to what isdrawn from thecommon sortsof grain 
+and pulse, which have been cultivated in this part of the world 
+timeout of mind. 
+
+The cotton plant, indeed, afforded the material of a very im- 
+portant manufacture, and was at that time, to Europeans, un- 
+doubtedly the most valuable of all the vegetable productions of 
+thoseislands. But though, in theend of the fifteenth century, the 
+muslins and other cotton goods of the East Indies were much 
+esteemed in every part of Europe, the cotton manufacture itself 
+was not cultivated in any part of it. Even this production, there- 
+fore, could not at that time appear in the eyes of Europeans to be 
+of very great consequence. 
+
+
+
+451 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+Finding nothing, either in theanimalsor vegetables of thenewly 
+discovered countries which could justify a very advantageous rep- 
+resentation of them, C olumbusturned hisview towards their min- 
+erals; and in the richness of their productions of this third king- 
+dom, he flattered himself he had found a full compensation for 
+the insignificancy of those of the other two. T he little bits of gold 
+with which theinhabitantsornamented their dress, and which, he 
+was informed, they frequently found in the rivulets and torrents 
+which fell from the mountains, were sufficient to satisfy him that 
+those mountains abounded with the richest gold mines. St. 
+D omingo, therefore, was represented as a country aboundi ng with 
+gold, and upon that account (according to theprejudicesnot only 
+of the present times, but of those times), an inexhaustible source 
+of real wealth to the crown and kingdom of Spain. W hen C ol urn- 
+bus, upon hisreturn from his first voyage, wasintroduced with a 
+sort of triumphal honours to the sovereigns of Castileand Arragon, 
+the principal productions of the countries which he had discov- 
+ered were carried in solemn procession beforehim.Theonly valu- 
+able part of them consisted in some little fillets, bracelets, and 
+other ornaments of gold, and in some bales of cotton. The rest 
+were mere objects of vulgar wonder and curiosity; some reeds of 
+an extraordinary size, somebirdsof a very beautiful plumage, and 
+some stuffed skins of the huge alligator and manati; all of which 
+
+
+
+were preceded by six or seven of the wretched natives, whose sin- 
+gular colour and appearance added greatly to the novelty of the 
+show. 
+
+In consequence of the representations of Columbus, the coun- 
+cil of Castile determined to take possession of the countries of 
+which the inhabitants were plainly incapable of defending them- 
+selves. T he pious purposeof converting them to C hristianity sanc- 
+tified theinjusticeof theproject. Butthehopeof finding treasures 
+of gold therewasthesolemotivewhich prompted to undertakeit; 
+and to give this motive the greater weight, it was proposed by 
+Columbus, that the half of all the gold and silver that should be 
+found there, should belong to the crown. This proposal was ap- 
+proved of by the council. 
+
+As long as the whole, or the greater part of the gold which the 
+first adventurers imported into Europe was got by so very easy a 
+method as the plundering of the defenceless natives, it was not 
+perhaps very difficult to pay even this heavy tax; but when the 
+natives were once fairly stript of all that they had, which, in St. 
+Domingo, and in all theothercountriesdiscovered by Columbus, 
+was done completely in six or eight years, and when, in order to 
+find more, it had become necessary to dig for it in the mines, 
+there was no longer any possibility of paying this tax. The rigor- 
+ousexaction of it, accordingly, first occasioned, itissaid, thetotal 
+
+
+
+452 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+abandoning of the minesof St. Domingo, which have never been 
+wrought since. Itwassoon reduced, therefore, to athird; then to a 
+fifth; afterwards to a tenth; and at last to a twentieth part of the 
+gross produce of the gold mines. The tax upon silver continued 
+foralongtimetobeafifthofthegrossproduce. It was reduced to 
+a tenth only in the course of the present century. But the first 
+adventurers do not appear to have been much interested about 
+silver. Nothing less precious than gold seemed worthy of their 
+attention. 
+
+All the other enterprizes of the Spaniards in the N ew World, 
+subsequent to those of C olumbus, seem to have been prompted 
+by the same motive. It was the sacred thirst of gold that carried 
+vieda, N icuessa, and Vasco N ugnesde Balboa, to the I sthmus of 
+Darien; that carried Cortes to M exico, Almagro and Pizarro to 
+Chili and Peru. When those adventurers arrived upon any un- 
+known coast, their first inquiry was always if there was any gold to 
+be found there; and according to the information which they re- 
+ceived concerning this particular, they determined either to quit 
+the country or to settle in it. 
+
+Of all those expensive and uncertain projects, however, which 
+bring bankruptcy upon the greater part of the people who engage 
+in them, there is none, perhaps, more perfectly ruinous than the 
+search after new silver and gold mines. It is, perhaps, the most 
+
+
+
+disadvantageous lottery in theworld, ortheonein which thegain 
+of those who draw the prizes bears the least proportion to the loss 
+of those who draw the blanks; for though the prizes are few, and 
+the blanks many, the common price of a ticket is the whole for- 
+tune of a very rich man. Projects of mining, instead of replacing 
+the capital employed in them, together with the ordinary profits 
+of stock, commonly absorb both capital and profit. They are the 
+projects, therefore, to which, of all others, a prudent lawgiver, who 
+desired to in crease the capital of his nation, would least choose to 
+give any extraordinary encouragement, or to turn towardsthem a 
+greater share of that capital than what would go to them of its 
+own accord. Such, in reality, is the absurd confidence which al- 
+most all men have in their own good fortune, that wherever there 
+istheleast probability of success, too great a share of it isapt to go 
+to them of its own accord. 
+
+But though the judgment of sober reason and experience con- 
+cerningsuch projectshasalwaysbeen extremely unfavourable, that 
+of human avidity has commonly been quite otherwise. The same 
+passion which has suggested to so many people the absurd idea of 
+the philosopher's stone, has suggested to others theequally absurd 
+one of immense rich minesof gold and silver. They did not con- 
+sider that the value of those metals has, in all ages and nations, 
+arisen chiefly from their scarcity, and that their scarcity has arisen 
+
+
+
+453 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+from thevery small quantities of them which naturehas anywhere 
+deposited in one place, from the hard and intractable substances 
+with which she has almost everywhere surrounded those small 
+quantities, and consequently from the labour and expense which 
+are everywhere necessary in order to penetrate, and get at them. 
+T hey flattered them selves that vei ns of those metals might i n many 
+places be found, as large and as abundant as those which are com- 
+monly found of lead, or copper, or tin, or iron. The dream of Sir 
+Waiter Raleigh, concerning the golden city and country of El 
+Dorado, may satisfy us, that even wise men are not always exempt 
+from such strange delusions. M ore than a hundred years after the 
+death of that great man, thejesuit Gumila was still convinced of 
+the reality of that wonderful country, and expressed, with great 
+warmth, and, I daresay, with great sincerity, how happy heshould 
+be to carry the light of the gospel to a people who could so well 
+reward the pious labours of their missionary. 
+
+In the countries first discovered by the Spaniards, no gold and 
+silver mines are at present known which are supposed to be worth 
+the working. Thequanti ties of those metals which thefirst adven- 
+turers are said to have found there, had probably been very much 
+magnified, aswell as the fertility of themines which were wrought 
+immediately after thefirst discovery. W hat those adventurers were 
+reported to have found, however, was sufficient to inflame the 
+
+
+
+avidity of all their countrymen. Every Spaniard who sailed to 
+America expected to find an El Dorado. Fortune, too, did upon 
+this what she has done upon very few other occasions. She real- 
+ized in somemeasuretheextravaganthopesof her votaries; and in 
+thediscovery and conquest of Mexico and Peru (of which theone 
+happened about thirty, and the other about forty, years after the 
+first expedition of Columbus), she presented them with some- 
+thing not very unlike that profusion of the precious metals which 
+they sought for. 
+
+A project of commerce to the East Indies, therefore, gave occa- 
+sion to thefirst discovery of theWest. A project of conquest gave 
+occasion to all the establishments of the Spaniardsin thosenewly 
+discovered countries. The motive which excited them to this con- 
+quest wasa project of gold and silver mines; and a course of acci- 
+dents which no human wisdom could foresee, rendered thisproject 
+much more successful than the undertakers had any reasonable 
+grounds for expecting. 
+
+The first adventurers of all the other nations of Europe who 
+attempted to make settlements in America, were animated by the 
+like chimerical views; but they were not equally successful. It was 
+more than ahundred years after thefirst settlement of the Brazils, 
+before any silver, gold, or diamond mines, were discovered there. 
+In the English, French, Dutch, and Danish colonies, none have 
+
+
+
+454 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+ever yet been discovered, at least nonethat are at present supposed 
+to be worth the working. The first English settlers in North 
+America, however, offered a fifth of all the gold and silver which 
+should be found there to the king, as a motive for granting them 
+their patents. In the patents of Sir Waiter Raleigh, to the London 
+and Plymouth companies, to the council of Plymouth, etc. this 
+fifth was accordingly reserved to thecrown. To the expectation of 
+finding gold and silver mines, those first settlers, too, joined that 
+of discovering a north-west passage to the East Indies. They have 
+hitherto been disappointed in both. 
+
+
+
+PART II 
+
+C auses of the Prosperity of N ew C olonies 
+
+Thecolony of a civilized nation which takes possession either of a 
+wastecountry, or of oneso thinly inhabited that thenatives easily 
+give pi ace to the new settlers, advances more rapidly to wealth and 
+greatness than any other human society. 
+
+The colonies carry out with them a knowledge of agriculture 
+and of other useful arts, superior to what can grow up of its own 
+accord, in thecourseof many centuries, among savage and barba- 
+rous nations. T hey carry out with them, too, the habit of subordi- 
+nation, some notion of the regular government which takes place 
+in their own country, of the system of laws which support it, and 
+of a regular administration of justice; and they naturally establish 
+something of the same kind in the new settlement. But among 
+savage and barbarous nations, thenatural progressof law and gov- 
+ernment is still slower than the natural progress of arts, after law 
+and government have been so far established as is necessary for 
+their protection. Every colonist gets more land than hecan possi- 
+bly cultivate. H e has no rent, and scarce any taxes, to pay. N o 
+landlord shares with him in its produce, and, the share of the 
+sovereign iscommonly but a trifle. Hehas every motive to render 
+
+
+
+455 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+as great as possible a produce which is thus to be almost entirely 
+his own. But his land is commonly so extensive, that, with all his 
+own industry, and with all the industry of other people whom he 
+can get to employ, he can seldom make it produce the tenth part 
+of what it iscapableof producing. H eiseager, therefore, to collect 
+labourers from all quarters, and to reward them with the most 
+liberal wages. But those liberal wages, joined to the plenty and 
+cheapness of land, soon make those labourers leave him, in order 
+to become landlordsthemselves, and to reward with equal liberal- 
+ity other labourers, who soon leave them for the same reason that 
+they left their first master. The liberal reward of labour encourages 
+marriage. The children, during the tender years of infancy, are 
+well fed and properly taken care of; and when they are grown up, 
+thevalueof their labour greatly overpays their maintenance. W hen 
+arrived at maturity, the high price of labour, and the low price of 
+land, enable them to establish themselves in the same manner as 
+their fathers did before them. 
+
+In other countries, rent and profit eat up wages, and the two 
+superior orders of people oppress the inferior one; but in new 
+colonies, the interest of the two superior orders obliges them to 
+treat theinferioronewith more generosity and humanity, at least 
+where that inferior one is not in a state of slavery. Wastelands, of 
+thegreatest natural fertility, are to be had for a trifle. The increase 
+
+
+
+of revenue which the proprietor, who is always the undertaker, 
+expects from their improvement, constitutes his profit, which, in 
+these circumstances, iscommonly very great; butthisgreat profit 
+cannot bemade, without employingthelabour of other peoplein 
+clearing and cultivating the land; and the disproportion between 
+the great extent of the land and the small number of the people, 
+which commonly takes place in new colonies, makes it difficult 
+for him to get this labour. He does not, therefore, dispute about 
+wages, but is willing to employ labour at any price. T hehigh wages 
+of labour encourage population. Thecheapness and plenty of good 
+land encourage improvement, and enable the proprietor to pay 
+those high wages. I n those wages consists almost the whole price 
+of the land; and though they are high, considered as the wages of 
+labour, they are low, considered as the price of what is so very 
+valuable. What encourages the progress of population and im- 
+provement, encourages that of real wealth and greatness. 
+
+The progress of many of the ancient Greek colonies towards 
+wealth and greatness seems accordingly to have been very rapid. 
+I n the course of a century or two, several of them appear to have 
+rivalled, and even to have surpassed, their mother cities. Syracuse 
+and Agrigentum in Sicily, Tarentum and Locri in Italy, Ephesus 
+and M iletusin Lesser Asia, appear, by all accounts, to have been at 
+least equal to any of thecitiesof ancient G reece. T hough posterior 
+
+
+
+456 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+in their establishment, yet all the arts of refinement, philosophy, 
+poetry, and eloquence, seem to have been cultivated as early, and 
+to have been improved as highly in them as in any part of the 
+mother countryT heschoolsof thetwo oldest G reek philosophers, 
+thoseofThalesand Pythagoras, were established, itisremarkable, 
+not in ancient Greece, but the one in an Asiatic, the other in an 
+Italian colony. All those colonies had established themselves in 
+countries inhabited by savage and barbarous nations, who easily 
+gave place to the new settlers. T hey had plenty of good land; and 
+as they were altogether i ndependent of the mother city, they were 
+at liberty to manage their own affairsin the way that theyjudged 
+was most suitableto their own interest. 
+
+T he history of the Roman colonies is by no means so brilliant. 
+Some of them, indeed, such as Florence, have, in the course of 
+many ages, and after the fall of the mother city, grown up to be 
+considerable states. But the progress of nooneofthemseemsever 
+to have been very rapid. They were all established in conquered 
+provinces, which in most cases had been fully inhabited before. 
+The quantity of land assigned to each colonist was seldom very 
+considerable, and, as the colony was not independent, they were 
+not always at liberty to manage their own affairs in the way that 
+theyjudged was most suitable to their own interest. 
+
+In the plenty of good land, theEuropean colonies established in 
+
+
+
+America and the West Indies resemble, and even greatly surpass, 
+those of ancient Greece. In their dependency upon the mother 
+state, they resemble those of ancient Rome; but their great dis- 
+tance from Europe has in all of them alleviated more or less the 
+effects of this dependency. Their situation has placed them less in 
+the view, and less in the power of their mother country. In pursu- 
+ing their interest their own way, their conduct has upon many 
+occasions been overlooked, either because not known or not un- 
+derstood in Europe; and upon some occasions it has been fairly 
+suffered and submitted to, because their distance rendered it diffi- 
+cult to restrain it. Even the violent and arbitrary government of 
+Spain has, upon many occasions, been obliged to recall or soften 
+the orders which had been given for the government of her colo- 
+nies, for fear of a general insurrection. The progress of all the Eu- 
+ropean colonies in wealth, population, and improvement, has ac- 
+cordingly been very great. 
+
+The crown of Spain, by its share of the gold and silver, derived 
+some revenue from its colonies from the moment of their first 
+establishment. It was a revenue, too, of a nature to excite in hu- 
+man avidity themost extravagant expectation of still greater riches. 
+The Spanish colonies, therefore, from the moment of their first 
+establishment, attracted very much the attention of their mother 
+country; while those of the other European nations were for a 
+
+
+
+457 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+long time in a great measure neglected. The former did not, per- 
+haps, thrive the better in consequence of this attention, nor the 
+latter the worse in consequence of this neglect. In proportion to 
+theextent of thecountry which they in some measure possess, the 
+Spanish colonies are considered aslesspopulousand thrivingthan 
+those of almost any other European nation. The progress even of 
+the Spanish colonies, however, in population and improvement, 
+has certainly been very rapid and very great. The city of Lima, 
+founded since the conquest, isrepresented by Ulloa as containing 
+fifty thousand in habitants near thirty years ago. Quito, which had 
+been but a miserable hamlet of Indians, isrepresented bythesame 
+author as in his time equally populous. Gemel i Carreri, a pre- 
+tended traveller, it is said, indeed, but who seems everywhere to 
+have written upon extreme good information, represents the city 
+of M exico as containing a hundred thousand inhabitants; a num- 
+ber which, in spite of all the exaggerations of the Spanish writers, 
+is probably more than five times greater than what it contained in 
+the time of Montezuma. These numbers exceed greatly those of 
+Boston, New York, and Philadelphia, the three greatest cities of 
+the English colonies. Before the conquest of the Spaniards, there 
+were no cattlefitfor draught, either in M exico or Peru. The lama 
+wastheir only beast of burden, and its strength seemsto have been 
+a good deal inferior to that of a common ass. The plough was 
+
+
+
+unknown among them. They were ignorant of the use of iron. 
+They had no coined money, nor any established instrument of 
+commerceof any kind. Their commerce was carried on by barter. 
+A sort of wooden spade wastheir principal instrument of agricul- 
+ture. Sharp stones served them for knives and hatchets to cut with; 
+fish bones, and the hard sinews of certain animals, served them 
+with needles to sew with; and these seem to have been their prin- 
+cipal instruments of trade. In this state of things, it seems impos- 
+sible that either of those empires could have been so much im- 
+proved or so well cultivated as at present, when they are plentifully 
+furnished with all sorts of European cattle, and when the use of 
+iron, of the plough, and of many of the arts of Europe, have been 
+introduced among them. But the populousness of every country 
+must bein proportion to thedegreeof its improvement and cultiva- 
+tion. In spite of the cruel destruction of the natives which followed 
+the conquest, these two great empires are probably more populous 
+now than they ever were before; and the people are surely very dif- 
+ferent; for we must acknowledge, I apprehend, that the Spanish 
+Creoles are in many respects superior to the ancient I ndians 
+
+After the settlements of theSpaniards, that of the Portuguese in 
+Brazil istheoldest of any European nation in America. But as for 
+a long time after the first discovery neither gold nor silver mines 
+were found in it, and as it afforded upon that account little or no 
+
+
+
+458 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+revenue to the crown, it was for a long time in a great measure 
+neglected; and during thisstateof neglect, it grew up to bea great 
+and powerful colony. While Portugal was under the dominion of 
+Spain, Brazil was attacked by the Dutch, who got possession of 
+seven of thefourteen provinces into which it isdivided. They ex- 
+pected soon to conquer the other seven, when Portugal recovered 
+its independency by theelevation of thefamily of Braganza to the 
+throne. The D utch, then, as enemies to the Spaniards, became 
+friends to the Portuguese, who were likewise the enemies of the 
+Spaniards. T hey agreed, therefore, to leave that part of Brazil which 
+they had not conquered to the king of Portugal, who agreed to 
+leave that part which they had conquered to them, as a matter not 
+worth disputing about, with such good allies. But the D utch gov- 
+ernment soon began to oppress the Portuguese colonists, who, 
+instead of amusingthem selves with complaints, took armsagainst 
+their new masters, and by their own valour and resolution, with 
+the connivance, indeed, but without any avowed assistance from 
+the mother country, drove them out of Brazil. T he D utch, there 
+fore, finding it impossibleto keep any part of thecountry to them- 
+selves, were contented that it should be entirely restored to the 
+crown of Portugal. I n this colony there are said to be more than 
+six hundred thousand people, either Portugueseor descended from 
+Portuguese, Creoles, mulattoes, and a mixed race between Portu- 
+
+
+
+guese and Brazilians. N o one colony in America is supposed to 
+contain so great a number of people of European extraction. 
+
+Towardstheend of the fifteenth, and during thegreater part of 
+thesixteenth century, Spain and Portugal werethetwo great naval 
+powers upon the ocean; for though the commerce of Venice ex- 
+tended to every part of Europe, its fleet had scarce ever sailed be- 
+yond the Mediterranean. The Spaniards, in virtue of thefirst dis- 
+covery, claimed all America as their own; and though they could 
+not hinder so great a naval power as that of Portugal from settling 
+in Brazil, such wasat that time the terror of their name, that the 
+greater part of the other nations of Europe were afraid to establish 
+themselves in any other part of that great continent. T he French, 
+who attempted to settlein Florida, were all murdered by theSpan- 
+iards. But the declension of the naval power of this latter nation, 
+in consequence of the defeat or miscarriage of what they called 
+their invincible armada, which happened towardstheend of the 
+sixteenth century, put it out of their power to obstruct any longer 
+the settlements of the other European nations. I n the course of 
+the seventeenth century, therefore, the English, French, Dutch, 
+Danes, and Swedes, all the great nations who had any ports upon 
+theocean, attempted to make some settlements in thenew world. 
+
+The Swedes established themselves in Newjersey;andthenum- 
+berof Swedish families still to be found there sufficiently demon- 
+
+
+
+459 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+strates, that this colony was very likely to prosper, had it been 
+protected by the mother country. But being neglected by Sweden, 
+it was soon swallowed up by the D utch colony of N ew York, which 
+again, in 1674, fell under the dominion of the English. 
+
+The small islands of St. Thomas and Santa Cruz, are the only 
+countries in the new world that have ever been possessed by the 
+D anes. T hese little settlements, too, were under the government 
+of an exclusive company, which had the sole right, both of pur- 
+chasingthesurplusproduceofthecolonies, and of supplying them 
+with such goods of other countries as they wanted, and which, 
+therefore, both in its purchases and sales, had not only the power 
+of oppressing them, but the greatest temptation to do so. The 
+government of an exclusive company of merchants is, perhaps, 
+theworstof all governmentsfor any country whatever. Itwasnot, 
+however, able to stop altogether the progress of these colonies, 
+though it rendered it more slow and languid. The late king of 
+Denmark dissolved this company, and since that time the pros- 
+perity of these colonies has been very great. 
+
+TheDutch settlements in theWest, as well asthosein theEast 
+I ndies, were originally put under the government of an exclusive 
+company. T he progress of some of them, therefore, though it has 
+been considerable in comparison with that of almost any country 
+that has been long peopled and established, has been languid and 
+
+
+
+slow in comparison with that of the greater part of new colonies. 
+The colony of Surinam, though very considerable, is still inferior 
+to the greater part of the sugar colonies of the other European 
+nations. The colony of Nova Belgia, now divided into the two 
+provincesof N ew York and N ewj ersey, would probably have soon 
+become considerable too, even though it had remained under the 
+government of theDutch.Theplenty and cheapness of good land 
+are such powerful causes of prosperity, that the very worst govern- 
+ment is scarce capable of checking altogether the efficacy of their 
+operation. T hegreat distance, too, from themother country, would 
+enablethecoloniststoevademoreorless, by smuggling, the mo- 
+nopoly which the company enjoyed against them. At present, the 
+company allowsall Dutch ships to trade to Surinam, upon paying 
+two and a-half per cent, upon thevalueof their cargo for a license; 
+and only reserves to itself exclusively, the direct trade from Africa 
+to America, which consists almost entirely in the slave trade. This 
+relaxation in the exclusive privileges of the company, is probably 
+theprincipal cause of that degree of prosperity which that colony 
+at present enjoys. Curacoaand Eustatia, thetwo principal islands 
+belonging to the D utch, are free ports, open to the ships of all 
+nations; and this freedom, in the midst of better colonies, whose 
+ports are open to those of one nation only, has been the great 
+cause of the prosperity of those two barren islands. 
+
+
+
+460 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+The French colony of Canada was, during the greater part of 
+the last century, and some part of the present, under the govern- 
+ment of an exclusive company. Under so unfavourable an admin- 
+istration, its progresswasnecessarily very slow, in comparison with 
+that of other new colonies; but it became much more rapid when 
+this company was dissolved, after the fall of what is called the 
+M ississippi scheme. When the English got possession of thiscoun- 
+try, they found in it near doublethenumber of inhabitants which 
+father Charlevoix had assigned to it between twenty and thirty 
+years before. T hat Jesuit had travelled over the wholecountry, and 
+had no inclination to represent it as less inconsiderable than it 
+really was. 
+
+The French colony of St. Domingo was established by pirates 
+and freebooters, who, for a long time, neither required the protec- 
+tion, nor acknowledged the authority of France; and when that 
+race of banditti became so far citizens as to acknowledge this au- 
+thority, it was for a long time necessary to exercise it with very 
+great gentleness. D uringthisperiod, thepopulation and improve- 
+ment of this colony increased very fast. Eventheoppressionofthe 
+exclusive company, to which it was for some time subjected with 
+all the other colonies of France, though it no doubt retarded, had 
+not been able to stop its progress altogether. The course of its 
+prosperity returned as soon as it was relieved from that oppres- 
+
+
+
+sion. It is now the most important of the sugar colonies of the 
+West Indies, and its produce is said to be greater than that of all 
+the English sugar colonies put together. T he other sugar colonies 
+of France are in general all very thriving. 
+
+But there are no colonies of which the progress has been more 
+rapid than that of the English in N orth America. 
+
+Plenty of good land, and liberty to manage their own affairs 
+their own way, seem to be thetwo great causes of the prosperity of 
+all new colonies. 
+
+In the plenty of good land, the English colonies of North 
+America, though no doubt very abundantly provided, are, how- 
+ever, inferior to those of the Spaniards and Portuguese, and not 
+superior to some of those possessed by the French before the late 
+war. But the political institutionsof theEnglish colonies have been 
+more favourable to the improvement and cultivation of this land, 
+than those of the other three nations. 
+
+First, 
+
+T heengrossing of uncultivated land, though it hasby no means 
+been prevented altogether, has been more restrained in the En- 
+glish colonies than in any other. The colony law, which imposes 
+upon every proprietor the obligation of improving and cultivat- 
+ing, within a limited time, a certain proportion of his lands, and 
+which, in case of failure, declares those neglected lands grantable 
+
+
+
+461 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+to any other person; though it has not perhaps been very strictly 
+executed, has, however, had some effect. 
+
+Secondly, 
+
+In Pennsylvania there is no right of primogeniture, and lands, 
+like moveables, are divided equally among all the children of the 
+family. In three of the provinces of New England, the oldest has 
+onlyadoubleshare, asin theM osaical law.Though in thoseprov- 
+inces, therefore, too great a quantity of land should sometimes be 
+engrossed by a particular individual, it is likely, in the course of a 
+generation or two, to be sufficiently divided again. In the other 
+English colonies, indeed, the right of primogeniture takes place, 
+asin the law of England: But in all the English colonies, theten- 
+ureof thelands, which are all held byfreesoccage, facilitates alien- 
+ation; and the grantee of an extensive tract of land generally finds 
+it for his interest to alienate, as fast ashecan, thegreater part of it, 
+reserving only a small quit-rent. In the Spanish and Portuguese 
+colonies, what is called the right of majorazzo takes place in the 
+succession of all those great estates to which anytitleof honour is 
+annexed. Such estates go all to one person, and are in effect en- 
+tailed and unalienable. The French colonies, indeed, aresubjectto 
+the custom of Paris, which, in the inheritance of land, is much 
+morefavourabletotheyounger children than thelaw of England. 
+But, in the French colonies, if any part of an estate, held by the 
+
+
+
+nobletenureof chivalry and homage, isalienated, it is, for a lim- 
+ited time, subject to the right of redemption, either by the heir of 
+thesuperior, or by the heir of thefamily; and all the largest estates 
+of the country are held by such noble tenures, which necessarily 
+embarrass alienation. But, in a new colony, a great uncultivated 
+estate is likely to be much more speedily divided by alienation 
+than by succession. T he plenty and cheapnessof good land, it has 
+already been observed, are the principal causes of the rapid pros- 
+perity of new colonies. The engrossing of land, in effect, destroys 
+this plenty and cheapness. Theengrossing of uncultivated land, be- 
+sides, is the greatest obstruction to its improvement; butthelabour 
+that is employed in the improvement and cultivation of land af- 
+fords the greatest and most valuable produce to the society. The 
+produce of labour, in thiscase, paysnot only its own wages and the 
+profit of the stock which employs it, but the rent of the land too 
+upon which it is employed. The labour of the English colonies, 
+therefore, being more employed in the improvement and cultiva- 
+tion of land, i s I i kely to afford a greater and more valuable produce 
+than that of any of theother three nations, which, by theengrossing 
+of land, is more or less diverted towards other employments. 
+
+Thirdly, 
+
+The labour of the English colonists isnot only likely to afford a 
+greater and more valuable produce, but, in consequence of the 
+
+
+
+462 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+moderation of their taxes, a greater proportion of this produce 
+belongs to themselves, which they may store up and employ in 
+putting into motion a still greater quantity of labour. T he English 
+colonists have never yet contributed any thing towards the de- 
+fence of the mother country, or towards the support of its civil 
+government. They themselves, on thecontrary, have hitherto been 
+defended almost entirely at the expense of the mother country; 
+but the expense of fleets and armiesisout of all proportion greater 
+than the necessary expense of civil government. T he expense of 
+their own civil government has always been very moderate. It has 
+generally been confined to what was necessary for paying compe- 
+tent salaries to the governor, to the judges, and to some other 
+officers of police, and for maintaining a few of the most useful 
+public works.Theexpense of thecivil establishment of M assachu- 
+setts Bay, before the commencement of the present disturbances, 
+used to bebut about £18;000 a-year; that of N ew H ampshireand 
+Rhode Island, £3500 each; that of Connecticut, £4000; that of 
+New York and Pennsylvania, £4500 each; that of New Jersey, 
+£1200; that of Virginia and South Carolina, £8000 each. The 
+civil establishments of Nova Scotia and Georgia are partly sup- 
+ported by an annual grant of parliament; but N ova Scotia pays, 
+besides, about £7000 a-year towards the public expenses of the 
+colony, and Georgia about £2500 a-year. All the different civil 
+
+
+
+establishments in North America, in short, exclusive of those of 
+Maryland and North Carolina, of which no exact account has 
+been got, did not, before the commencement of the present dis- 
+turbances, cost the inhabitants about £64,700 a-year; an ever 
+memorable example, at how small an expense three millions of 
+people may not only be governed but well governed. The most 
+important part of the expense of government, indeed, that of de- 
+fence and protection, hasconstantly fallen upon themother coun- 
+try. The ceremonial, too, of thecivil government in the colonies, 
+upon the reception of a new governor, upon theopening of anew 
+assembly, etc. though sufficiently decent, is not accompanied with 
+any expensive pomp or parade. Their ecclesiastical government is 
+conducted upon apian equallyfrugal. Tithes areunknown among 
+them; and their clergy, who are far from being numerous, are 
+maintained either by moderate stipends, or by thevoluntary con- 
+tributions of the people. The power of Spain and Portugal, on the 
+contrary, derives some support from the taxes levied upon their 
+colonies. France, indeed, has never drawn any considerable rev- 
+enuefrom its colonies, the taxes which it levies upon them being 
+generally spent among them. But the colony government of all 
+these threenationsisconducted upon amuch moreextensiveplan, 
+and isaccompanied with amuch more expensiveceremonial. The 
+sums spent upon the reception of a new viceroy of Peru, for ex- 
+
+
+
+463 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+ample, have frequently been enormous. Such ceremonials are not 
+only real taxes paid by the rich colonists upon those particular 
+occasions, but they serve to introduce among them the habit of 
+vanity and expense upon all other occasions. They are not only 
+very grievous occasional taxes, but they contribute to establish 
+perpetual taxes, of the same kind, still more grievous; theruinous 
+taxes of private luxury and extravagance. In the colonies of all 
+those three nations, too, the ecclesiastical government isextremely 
+oppressive.Tithestakeplacein all of them, and arelevied with the 
+utmost rigour in those of Spain and Portugal. All of them, be- 
+sides, are oppressed with a numerous race of mendicant friars, 
+whose beggary being not only licensed but consecrated by reli- 
+gion, is a most grievous tax upon the poor people, who are most 
+carefully taught that it is a duty to give, and a very great sin to 
+refuse them their charity. Over and above all this, thedergyare, in 
+all of them, the greatest engrossers of land. 
+
+Fourthly, 
+
+I n the disposal of their surplus produce, or of what is over and 
+above theirown consumption, theEnglish colonieshave been more 
+favoured, and have been allowed a more extensive market, than 
+those of any other European nation. Every European nation has 
+endeavoured, more or less, to monopolize to itself the commerce 
+of its colonies, and, upon that account, hasprohibited theshipsof 
+
+
+
+foreign nations from trading to them, and has prohibited them 
+from importing European goodsfrom any foreign nation. But the 
+manner in which this monopoly has been exercised in different 
+nations, has been very different. 
+
+Some nations have given up the whole commerce of their colo- 
+nies to an exclusive company, of whomthecolonistswereobliged 
+to buy all such European goods as they wanted, and to whom 
+they wereobliged to sell the wholeof their surplusproduce. It was 
+the interest of the company, therefore, not only to sell theformer 
+as dear, and to buy the latter as cheap as possible, but to buy no 
+more of the latter, even at this low price, than what they could 
+dispose of for a very high pricein Europe. It was their interest not 
+onlytodegradein all cases thevalueofthesurplusproduce of the 
+colony, but in many cases to discourage and keep down the natu- 
+ral increase of its quantity. Of all the expedients that can well be 
+contrived to stunt the natural growth of a new colony, that of an 
+exclusive company is undoubtedly the most effectual. This, how- 
+ever, has been the policy of H olland, though their company, in 
+the course of the present century, has given up in many respects 
+the exertion of their exclusive privilege. This, too, was the policy 
+of Denmark, till thereign of thelate king. It has occasionally been 
+the policy of France; and of late, since 1755, after it had been 
+abandoned by all other nations on account of its absurdity, it has 
+
+
+
+464 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+become the policy of Portugal, with regard at least to two of the 
+principal provinces of Brazil, Pernambucco, and M arannon. 
+
+ther nations, without establishing an exclusivecompany, have 
+confined the whole commerce of their colonies to a particular 
+port of the mother country, from whence no ship was allowed to 
+sail, but either in a fleet and at a particular season, or, if single, in 
+consequence of a particular license, which in most cases was very 
+well paid for. This policy opened, indeed, thetradeofthecolonies 
+to all the natives of the mother country, provided they traded from 
+the proper port, at the proper season, and in the proper vessels. 
+But as all thedifferent merchants, who joined their stocks in order 
+to fit out those licensed vessels, would find it for their interest to 
+act in concert, thetradewhich was carried on in thismanner would 
+necessarily be conducted very nearly upon the same principles as 
+that of an exclusive company. Theprofit of those merchants would 
+be almost equally exorbitant and oppressive. T he colonies would 
+be ill supplied, and would be obliged both to buy very dear, and 
+to sell very cheap. This, however, till within these few years, had 
+always been the policy of Spain; and the price of all European 
+goods, accordingly, is said to have been enormous in the Spanish 
+West Indies. At Quito, we are told byUlloa, a pound of iron sold 
+for about 4s:6d., and a pound of steel for about 6s:9d. sterling. 
+But it is chiefly in order to purchase European goods that the 
+
+
+
+colonies part with their own produce. The more, therefore, they 
+payfortheone, theless they really get for theother, andthedear- 
+ness of the one is the same thing with the cheapness of the other. 
+The policy of Portugal is, in thisrespect, the same as the ancient 
+policy of Spain, with regard to all its colonies, except Pernambucco 
+and M arannon; and with regard to these it has lately adopted a 
+still worse. 
+
+Other nations leave the trade of their colonies free to all their 
+subjects, who may carry it on from all the different ports of the 
+mother country, and who have occasion for no other license than 
+the common despatches of the custom-house. In this case the 
+number and dispersed situation of the different traders renders it 
+impossible for them to enter into any general combination, and 
+their competition is sufficient to hinder them from making very 
+exorbitant profits. Under so liberal a policy, the colonies are en- 
+abled both to sell their own produce, and to buy the goods of 
+Europe at a reasonable price; but since the dissolution of the Ply- 
+mouth company, when our colonies were but in their infancy, this 
+has always been the policy of England. It has generally, too, been 
+that of France, and has been uniformly so since the dissolution of 
+what in England is commonly called their M ississippi company. 
+The profits of the trade, therefore, which France and England 
+carry on with their colonies, though no doubt somewhat higher 
+
+
+
+465 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+than if the competition were free to all other nations, are, how- 
+ever, by no means exorbitant; and the price of European goods, 
+accordingly, is not extravagantly high in the greater past of the 
+colonies of either of those nations. 
+
+I n the exportation of their own surplus produce, too, it is only 
+with regard to certain commodities that thecolonies of Great Brit- 
+ain areconfined to themarket of themother country. T hese com- 
+modities having been enumerated in the act of navigation, and in 
+some other subsequent acts, have upon that account been called 
+enumerated commodities. The rest are called non-enumerated, 
+and may be exported directly to other countries, provided it is in 
+British or plantation ships, of which theownersand three fourths 
+of the mariners are British subjects. 
+
+Among thenon-enumeratedcommoditiesaresomeof the most 
+important productions of America and the West Indies, grain of 
+all sorts, lumber, salt provisions, fish, sugar, and rum. 
+
+Grain is naturally thefirst and principal object of the culture of al I 
+new colonies. By allowingthem avery extensive market for it, thelaw 
+encourages them to extend this culture much beyond the consump- 
+tion of athinly inhabited country, and thusto provide beforehand an 
+ample subsistence for a continually increasing population. 
+
+In a country quite covered with wood, where timber conse- 
+quently isof little or no value, theexpenseof clearing theground 
+
+
+
+istheprincipal obstacleto improvement. Byallowingthecolonies 
+a very extensive market for their lumber, the law endeavours to 
+facilitate improvement by raising the priceof a commodity which 
+would otherwise be of little value, and thereby enabling them to 
+make some profit of what would otherwise be mere expense. 
+
+I n a country neither half peopled nor half cultivated, cattle natu- 
+rally multiply beyond the consumption of the inhabitants, and are 
+often, upon that account, of little or no value. But it is necessary, it 
+has already been shown, that thepriceof cattleshould bearacertain 
+proportion to that of corn, before the greater part of the lands of 
+any country can beimproved. By allowing to American cattle, in all 
+shapes, dead and alive, avery extensive market, thelaw endeavours 
+to raise the value of a commodity, of which the high priceissovery 
+essential to improvement. The good effects of this liberty, however, 
+must be somewhat diminished by the 4th of Geo. III. c. 15, which 
+puts hides and skins among the enumerated commodities, and 
+thereby tends to reduce the value of American cattle. 
+
+To increase the shipping and naval power of Great Britain by 
+the extension of the fisheries of our colonies, is an object which 
+thelegislatureseemsto have had almost constantly in view.Those 
+fisheries, upon thisaccount, havehad all theencouragement which 
+freedom can give them, and they have flourished accordingly. The 
+New England fishery, in particular, was, before the late distur- 
+
+
+
+466 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+bances, one of the most important, perhaps, in the world. The 
+whalefishery which, notwithstanding an extravagant bounty, isin 
+Great Britain carried on to so little purpose, that in theopinion of 
+many people ( which I do not, however, pretend to warrant), the 
+whole produce does not much exceed the value of the bounties 
+which are annually paid for it, is in N ew England carried on, with- 
+out any bounty, to a very great extent. Fish is one of the principal 
+articles with which the North Americans trade to Spain, Portugal, 
+and the Mediterranean. 
+
+Sugar was originally an enumerated commodity, which could 
+only be exported to Great Britain; but in 1751, upon a represen- 
+tation of the sugar- planters, its exportation was permitted to all 
+parts of the world. The restrictions, however, with which this lib- 
+erty \was granted, joined to the high price of sugar in Great Brit- 
+ain, have rendered it in a great measure in effectual. Great Britain 
+and her colonies still continue to be almost thesolemarket for all 
+sugar produced in the British plantations. T heir consumption in- 
+creases so fast, that, though in consequence of the increasing im- 
+provement ofjamaica, aswell asoftheceded islands, theimporta- 
+tion of sugar has increased very greatly within these twenty years, 
+the exportation to foreign countries is said to be not much greater 
+than before. 
+
+Rum is a very important article in the trade which the Ameri- 
+
+
+
+cans carry on to the coast of Africa, from which they bring back 
+negro slaves in return. 
+
+If thewholesurplusproduceof America, in grain of all sorts, in 
+salt provisions, and in fish, had been put into the enumeration, 
+and thereby forced into the market of Great Britain, it would have 
+interfered too much with the produce of the industry of our own 
+people. 1 1 was probably not so much from any regard to the inter- 
+est of America, as from a jealousy of this interference, that those 
+important commodities have not only been kept out of the enu- 
+meration, but that the importation into Great Britain of all grain, 
+except rice, and of all salt provisions, has, in the ordinary state of 
+the law, been prohibited. 
+
+The non-enumerated commodities could originally be exported 
+to all parts of the world. Lumber and rice having been once put 
+into the enumeration, when they were afterwards taken out of it, 
+wereconfined, as to the European market, to thecountries that lie 
+south of Cape Finisterre. By the 6th of G eorge III. c. 52, all non- 
+enumerated commodities were subjected to the like restriction. 
+The parts of Europe which lie south of Cape Finisterre are not 
+manufacturing countries, and we are less jealous of the colony 
+ships carrying home from them any manufactures which could 
+interfere with our own. 
+
+The enumerated commodities are of two sorts; first, such as are 
+
+
+
+467 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+either the peculiar produceof America, or as cannot beproduced, 
+or at least are not produced in the mother country. Of this kind 
+are molasses, coffee, cocoa-nuts, tobacco, pimento, ginger, 
+whalefins, raw silk, cotton, wool, beaver, and other peltry of 
+America, indigo, fustick, and other dyeing woods; secondly, such 
+as are not the peculiar produce of America, but which are, and 
+may beproduced in the mother country, though not in such quan- 
+tities as to supply the greater part of her demand, which is princi- 
+pally supplied from foreign countries. Of this kind are all naval 
+stores, masts, yards, and bowsprits, tar, pitch, and turpentine, pig 
+and bariron, copper ore, hides and skins, pot and pearl ashes. The 
+largest importation of commodities of the first kind could not 
+discourage thegrowth, or interfere with thesale, of any part of the 
+produce of the mother country. By confining them to the home 
+market, our merchants, it was expected, would not only be en- 
+abled to buy them cheaper in the plantations, and consequently 
+to sell them with a better profit at home, but to establish between 
+the plantations and foreign countries an advantageous carrying 
+trade, of which Great Britain was necessarily to be the centre or 
+emporium, as the European country into which those commodi- 
+tieswerefirsttobeimported.Theimportationofcommoditiesof 
+the second kind might be so managed too, it was supposed, as to 
+interfere, not with the sale of those of the same kind which were 
+
+
+
+produced at home, but with that of those which were imported 
+from foreign countries; because, by means of proper duties, they 
+might be rendered always somewhat dearer than the former, and 
+yet a good deal cheaper than the latter. By confining such com- 
+modities to the home market, therefore, it was proposed to dis- 
+courage the produce, not of Great Britain, but of some foreign 
+countries with which the balance of trade was believed to be 
+unfavourable to Great Britain. 
+
+The prohibition of exporting from the colonies to any other 
+country but Great Britain, masts, yards, and bowsprits, tar, pitch, 
+and turpentine, naturally tended to lower the price of timber in 
+thecolonies, and consequently to in crease the expense of clearing 
+their lands, theprincipal obstacleto their improvement. But about 
+the beginning of the present century, in 1703, the pitch and tar 
+company of Sweden endeavoured to raise the price of their com- 
+modities to Great Britain, by prohibiting their exportation, ex- 
+cept in their own ships, at their own price, and in such quantities 
+as they thought proper. In order to counteract this notable piece 
+of mercantile policy, and to render herself as much as possible 
+independent, not only of Sweden, but of all the other northern 
+powers, Great Britain gavea bounty upon the importation of na- 
+val stores from America; and the effect of this bounty was to raise 
+thepriceof timber in America much more than the confinement 
+
+
+
+468 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+to the home market could lower it; and as both regulations were 
+enacted at thesametime, their joint effect was rather to encourage 
+than to discourage the clearing of land in America. 
+
+Though pig and bar iron, too, have been put among the enu- 
+merated commodities, yet as, when imported from America, they 
+are exempted from considerable duties to which they are subject 
+when imported front any other country, the one part of the regu- 
+lation contributes more to encourage the erection of furnaces in 
+America than the other to discourage it. T here is no manufacture 
+which occasions so great a consumption of wood as a furnace, or 
+which can contribute so much to the clearing of a country over- 
+grown with it. 
+
+T he tendency of some of these regulations to raise the value of 
+timber in America, and thereby to facilitate the clearing of the 
+land, was neither, perhaps, intended nor understood by the legis- 
+lature. Though their beneficial effects, however, have been in this 
+respect accidental, they have not upon that account been less real. 
+
+The most perfect freedom of trade is permitted between the 
+British colonies of America and the West Indies, both in the enu- 
+merated and in the non-enumerated commoditiesT hose colonies 
+are now become so populous and thriving, that each of them finds 
+in someoftheothersa great and exten si vemarket for every part of 
+i ts p rod u ce. A 1 1 of th em taken togeth er, th ey m ake a great i n tern al 
+
+
+
+market for the produce of one another. 
+
+The liberality of England, however, towards the trade of her 
+colonies, has been confined chiefly to what concerns the market 
+for their produce, either in its rude state, or in what may be called 
+the very first stage of manufacture. T he more advanced or more 
+refined manufactures, even of the colony produce, the merchants 
+and manufacturers of Great Britain chuseto reserve to themselves, 
+and have prevailed upon thelegislatureto prevent their establish- 
+ment in the colonies, sometimes by high duties, and sometimes 
+by absolute prohibitions. 
+
+W hile, for example, M uscovado sugars from the British planta- 
+tions pay, upon importation, only 6s:4d. thehundred weight, white 
+sugars pay £1:1:1; and refined, either double or single, in loaves, 
+£4:2:5 8/20ths. W hen thosehigh duties were imposed, Great Brit- 
+ain was the sole, and she still continues to be, the principal mar- 
+ket, to which the sugars of the British colonies could be exported. 
+They amounted, therefore, to a prohibition, at first of claying or 
+refining sugar for any foreign market, and at present of claying or 
+refining it for the market which takes off, perhaps, more than 
+nine-tenths of the whole produce. The manufacture of claying or 
+refining sugar, accordingly, though it hasflourished in all thesugar 
+colonies of France, has been little cultivated in any of those of 
+England, except for the market of the colonies themselves. W hile 
+
+
+
+469 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+Grenada was in the hands of the French, there was a refinery of 
+sugar, by claying, at least upon almost every plantation. Since it 
+fell into those of the English, almost all works of this kind have 
+been given up; and there are at present (October 1773), I am 
+assured, not above two or three remaining in theisl and. At present, 
+however, by an indulgenceofthecustom-house, clayed or refined 
+sugar, if reduced from loaves into powder, is commonly imported 
+as M uscovado. 
+
+While Great Britain encourages in America the manufacturing 
+of pig and bar iron, by exempting them from duties to which the 
+I ike commodities are subject when imported from any other coun- 
+try, sheimposesan absoluteprohibition upon theerection of steel 
+furnaces and slit-mills in any of her American plantations. She 
+will not suffer her colonies to work in those more refined manu- 
+factures, even for their own consumption; but insists upon their 
+purchasing of her merchants and manufacturers all goods of this 
+kind which they have occasion for. 
+
+She prohibits the exportation from oneprovinceto another by 
+water, and even the carriage by land upon horseback, or in a cart, 
+of hats, of wools, and woollen goods, of the produce of America; 
+a regulation which effectually prevents the establishment of any 
+manufacture of such commodities for distant sale, and confines 
+the industry of her colonists in this way to such coarse and house- 
+
+
+
+hold manufactures as a private family commonly makes for its 
+own use, or for that of some of its neighbours in the same prov- 
+ince. 
+
+To prohibit a great people, however, from making all that they 
+can of every part of their own produce, or from employing their 
+stock and industry in the way that theyjudge most advantageous 
+to themselves, is a manifest violation of the most sacred rights of 
+mankind. Unjust, however, as such prohibitionsmay be, they have 
+not hitherto been very hurtful to thecolonies. Land isstill so cheap, 
+and, consequently, labour so dear among them, that they can im- 
+port from themother country almost all themore refined or more 
+advanced manufactures cheaper than they could make them for 
+themselves. Though they had not, therefore, been prohibited from 
+establishing such manufactures, yet, in their present state of im- 
+provement, a regard to their own interest would probably have 
+prevented them from doing so. In their present state of improve- 
+ment, those prohibitions, perhaps, without crampingtheir indus- 
+try, or restraining it from any employment to which it would have 
+gone of its own accord, are only impertinent badges of slavery 
+imposed upon them, without any sufficient reason, bytheground- 
+less jealousy of the merchants and manufacturers of the mother 
+country. In a more advanced state, they might be really oppressive 
+and insupportable. 
+
+
+
+470 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+Great Britain, too, as she confines to her own market some of 
+themost important productionsofthecolonies, so, in compensa- 
+tion, shegivesto someof them an advantage in that market, some- 
+times by imposing higher duties upon the like productions when 
+imported from other countries, and sometimes by giving boun- 
+tiesupon their importation from thecolonies. In the first way, she 
+gives an advantage in the home market to the sugar, tobacco, and 
+iron of her own colonies; and, in the second, to their raw silk, to 
+their hemp and flax, to their indigo, to their naval stores, and to 
+their buildingtimber. Thissecond way of encouraging thecolony 
+produce, by bounties upon importation, is, so far as I have been 
+able to learn, peculiar to Great Britain: the first is not. Portugal 
+does not content herself with imposing higher duties upon the 
+importation of tobacco from any other country, but prohibits it 
+under the severest penalties. 
+
+With regard to the importation of goodsfrom Europe, England has 
+likewise dealt moreliberally with her colonies than any other nation. 
+
+Great Britain allows a part, almost always the half, generally a 
+larger portion, and sometimes the whole, of the duty which is 
+paid upon the importation of foreign goods, to be drawn back 
+upon their exportation to any foreign country. No independent 
+foreign country, it was easy to foresee, would receive them, if they 
+cameto it loaded with the heavy dutiesto which almost all foreign 
+
+
+
+goods are subjected on their importation into Great Britain. Un- 
+less, therefore, some part of those duties was drawn back upon 
+exportation, there was an end of the carrying trade; a trade so 
+much favoured by the mercantile system. 
+
+ur colonies, however, are by no means independent foreign 
+countries; and Great Britain having assumed to herself the exclu- 
+sive right of supplying them with all goods from Europe, might 
+have forced them (in the same manner as other countries have 
+donetheir colonies) to receive such goods loaded with all thesame 
+duties which they paid in the mother country. But, on the con- 
+trary, till 1763, the same drawbacks were paid upon the exporta- 
+tion of the greater part of foreign goods to our colonies, as to any 
+independent foreign country. In 1763, indeed, by the4th of Geo. 
+1 1 1 . c. 15, this indulgence was a good deal abated, and it was en- 
+acted, "That no part of the duty called the old subsidy should be 
+drawn back for any goods of the growth, production, ormanufac- 
+tureof Europe or the East Indies, which should be exported from 
+thiskingdom to any British colony or plantation in America; wines, 
+white calicoes, and muslins, excepted." Before this law, many dif- 
+ferent sorts of foreign goods might have been bought cheaper in 
+the plantations than in the mother country, and some may still. 
+
+Of the greater part of the regulations concerning the colony 
+trade, the merchants who carry it on, it must be observed, have 
+
+
+
+471 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+been the principal advisers. We must not wonder, therefore, if, in 
+a great part of them, their interest has been more considered than 
+either that of the colonies or that of the mother country. I n their 
+exclusive privilege of supplying the colonies with all the goods 
+which they wanted from Europe, and of purchasing all such parts 
+of their surplus produce as could not interfere with any of the 
+trades which they themselves carried on at home, the interest of 
+the colonies was sacrificed to the interest of those merchants. I n 
+allowing thesamedrawbacksupon there-exportation of thegreater 
+part of European and East India goods to the colonies, as upon 
+their re-exportation to any independent country, the interest of 
+the mother country was sacrificed to it, even according to the 
+mercantile ideas of that interest. It was for the interest of the mer- 
+chants to pay as little as possiblefor theforeign goods which they 
+sent to the colonies, and, consequently, to get back as much as 
+possible of the duties which they advanced upon their importa- 
+tion into Great Britain. They might thereby be enabled to sell in 
+thecolonies, either the same quantity of goods with agreater profit, 
+or a greater quantity with the same profit, and, consequently, to 
+gain something either in theone way or the other. It waslikewise 
+for the interest of the colonies to get all such goods as cheap, and 
+in asgreat abundance as possible. But this might not always befor 
+the interest of the mother country. She might frequently suffer, 
+
+
+
+both in her revenue, by giving backagreat part of theduties which 
+had been paid upon the importation of such goods; and in her 
+manufactures, by being undersold in the colony market, in conse- 
+quence of the easy terms upon which foreign manufactures could 
+be carried thither by means of those drawbacks. T he progress of 
+the linen manufacture of Great Britain, it is commonly said, has 
+been a good deal retarded by the drawbacks upon there-exporta- 
+tion of German linen to the American colonies. 
+
+But though the policy of Great Britain, with regard to the trade 
+of her colonies, has been dictated bythesamemercantilespiritas 
+that of other nations, it has, however, upon the whole, been less 
+illiberal and oppressive than that of any of them. 
+
+I n every thing except their foreign trade, the liberty of the En- 
+glish colonists to manage their own affairs their own way, iscom- 
+plete. It is in every respect equal to that of their fellow-citizens at 
+home, and is secured in the same manner, by an assembly of the 
+representatives of the people, who claim the sole right of impos- 
+ing taxes for thesupport of thecolony government. Theauthority 
+of this assembly overawes the executive power; and neither the 
+meanest nor the most obnoxious colonist, as long as he obeys the 
+law, has anythingto fear from the resentment, either of thegover- 
+nor, or of any other civil or military officer in the province. The 
+colony assemblies, though, likethehouseofcommonsin England, 
+
+
+
+472 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+they are not always a very equal representation of the people, yet 
+they approach more nearly to that character; and as the executive 
+power either has not themeans to corrupt them, or, on account of 
+the support which it receives from the mother country, isnot un- 
+der the necessity of doing so, they are, perhaps, in general more 
+influenced by the inclinationsof their constituents. The councils, 
+which, in thecolony legislatures, correspond to thehouseof lords 
+in Great Britain, are not composed of a hereditary nobility. In 
+some of the colonies, as in three of the governments of New En- 
+gland, those councils are not appointed by the king, but chosen 
+by the representatives of the people. In noneof theEnglish colo- 
+nies isthereany hereditary nobility. In all of them, indeed, asin all 
+other free countries, the descendant of an old colony family is 
+more respected than an upstart of equal merit and fortune; but he 
+is only more respected, and he has no privileges by which he can 
+be troublesome to his neighbours. Before the commencement of 
+the present disturbances, the colony assemblies had not only the 
+legislative, but a part of the executive power. In Connecticut and 
+Rhode Island, they elected the governor. In the other colonies, 
+they appointed the revenue officers, who collected the taxes im- 
+posed by those respective assemblies, to whom those officers were 
+immediately responsibleThereismoreequality, therefore, among 
+the English colonists than among the inhabitants of the mother 
+
+
+
+country. Their manners are more re publican; and their govern- 
+ments, thoseof three of the provinces of N ew England in particu- 
+lar, have hitherto been more republican too. 
+
+The absolute governments of Spain, Portugal, and France, on 
+the contrary, take place in their colonies; and the discretionary 
+powers which such governments commonly delegate to all their 
+inferior officers are, on account of the great distance, naturally 
+exercised therewith more than ordinary violence. Under all abso- 
+lute governments, there is more liberty in the capital than in any 
+other part of the country. The sovereign himself can never have 
+either interest or inclination to pervert the order of justice, or to 
+oppress the great body of the people. I n the capital, his presence 
+overawes, moreorless, all hisinferior officers, who, in theremoter 
+provinces, from whence thecomplaints of the people are I ess likely 
+to reach him, can exercise their tyranny with much more safety. 
+But the European colonies in America are more remote than the 
+mostdistantprovincesofthegreatestempireswhich had ever been 
+known before. The government of the English colonies is, per- 
+haps, the only one which, since the world began, could give per- 
+fect security to the inhabitants of so very distant a province. The 
+administration of the French colonies, however, has always been 
+conducted with much more gentleness and moderation than that 
+of the Spanish and Portuguese. T his superiority of conduct issuit- 
+
+
+
+473 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+able both to thecharacter of the French nation, and to what forms 
+the character of every nation, the nature of their government, 
+which, though arbitrary and violent in comparison with that of 
+Great Britain, is legal and free in comparison with those of Spain 
+and Portugal. 
+
+It is in the progress of the N orth American colonies, however, 
+that thesuperiority of theEnglish policy chiefly appears."!" heprogress 
+of thesugar colonies of Francehas been at least equal, perhapssupe- 
+ri or, to th at of th e greater part of th ose of E n gl an d ; an d yet th e su gar 
+colonies of England enjoy a free government, nearly of the same 
+kind with that which takes place in her colonies of North America. 
+But the sugar colonies of France are not discouraged, like those of 
+England, from refining their own sugar; and what is still of greater 
+importance, the geniusof their government naturally introducesa 
+better management of their negro slaves. 
+
+In all European colonies, thecultureofthesugar-caneiscarried 
+on by negro slaves. The constitution of those who have been born 
+in thetemperatedimateof Europe could not, it issupposed, sup- 
+port the labour of digging the ground under the burning sun of 
+the West I ndies; and the culture of the sugar-cane, as it is man- 
+aged at present, isall hand labour; though, in theopinion of many, 
+thedrill plough might beintroduced into it with great advantage. 
+But, as the profit and successof thecultivation which iscarried on 
+
+
+
+by means of cattle, depend very much upon the good manage- 
+ment of those cattle; so the profit and success of that which is 
+carried on by slaves must depend equally upon the good manage- 
+ment of those slaves; and in the good management of their slaves 
+the French planters, I think it is generally allowed, are superior to 
+the English. T he law, so far as it gives some weak protection to the 
+slave against the violence of his master, is likely to be better ex- 
+ecuted in a colony where the government is in a great measure 
+arbitrary, than in one where it is altogether free. I n ever country 
+where theunfortunatelaw of slavery isestablished, the magistrate, 
+when he protects the slave, intermeddles in some measure in the 
+management of the private property of the master; and, in a free 
+country, where the master is, perhaps, either a member of thecolony 
+assembly, or an elector of such a member, hedaresnotdothisbut 
+with the greatest caution and circumspection. The respect which 
+heisobligedtopaytothemaster, renders it moredifficult for him 
+to protect the slave. But in a country where thegovernmentisin a 
+great measure arbitrary, whereit isusual for the magistrate to in- 
+termeddle even in the management of the private property of in- 
+dividuals, and to send them, perhaps, a lettrede cachet, if they do 
+not manage it according to his liking, it is much easier for him to 
+give some protection to the slave; and common humanity natu- 
+rally disposes him to do so. T he protection of the magistrate ren- 
+
+
+
+474 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+ders the slave less contemptible in the eyes of his master, who is 
+thereby induced to consider him with more regard, and to treat 
+him with more gentleness. Gentleusage renders theslavenot only 
+more faithful, but more intelligent, and, therefore, upon a double 
+account, more useful. He approaches more to the condition of a 
+free servant, and may possess some degree of integrity and attach- 
+ment to his master's interest; virtues which frequently belong to 
+free servants, but which never can belong to a slave, who istreated 
+as slaves commonly are in countries where the master is perfectly 
+free and secure. 
+
+That the condition of a slave is better under an arbitrary than 
+under a free government, is, I believe, supported by the history of 
+all ages and nations. In theRoman history, the first time we read 
+of the magistrate interposing to protect the slave from the vio- 
+lence of his master, is under theemperors. When Vidius Pollio, in 
+the presence of Augustus, ordered one of his slaves, who had com- 
+mitted a slight fault, to be cut into pieces and thrown into hisfish- 
+pond, in order to feed his fishes, the emperor commanded him, 
+with indignation, to emancipateimmediately, not only that slave, 
+but all the others that belonged to him. U nder the republic no 
+magistrate could have had authority enough to protect the slave, 
+much less to punish the master. 
+
+The stock, it is to be observed, which has improved the sugar 
+
+
+
+colonies of France, particularly the great colony of St Domingo, 
+has been raised almost entirely from the gradual improvement 
+and cultivation of those colonies. Ithasbeen almost altogether the 
+produce of the soil and of the industry of the colonists, or, what 
+comes to the same thing, the price of that produce, gradually ac- 
+cumulated by good management, and employed in raising a still 
+greater produce. But thestock which hasimproved and cultivated 
+thesugar colonies of England, has, a great part of it, been sent out 
+from England, and has by no means been altogether the produce 
+of the soil and industry of the colonists. The prosperity of the 
+English sugar colonies has been in a great measure owing to the 
+great riches of England, of which a part has overflowed, if one 
+may say so, upon these colonies. But the prosperity of the sugar 
+coloniesof Francehas been entirely owing to the good conduct of 
+thecolonists, which must therefore have had somesuperiority over 
+that of the English; and this superiority has been remarked in 
+nothing so much as in the good management of their slaves. 
+
+Such have been the general outlines of the policy of the differ- 
+ent European nations with regard to their colonies. 
+
+The policy of Europe, therefore, has very little to boast of, ei- 
+ther in the original establishment, or, so far as concerns their in- 
+ternal government, in the subsequent prosperity of thecoloniesof 
+America. 
+
+
+
+475 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+Folly and injustice seem to have been the principles which pre- 
+sided over and directed thefirst project of establishing those colo- 
+nies; the folly of hunting after gold and silver mines, and the in- 
+justice of coveting the possession of a country whose harmless 
+natives, far from having ever injured the people of Europe, had 
+received the first adventurers with every mark of kindness and 
+hospitality. 
+
+The adventurers, indeed, who formed some of the latter estab- 
+lishments, joined to the chimerical project of finding gold and sil- 
+ver mines, other motives more reasonable and more laudable; but 
+even these motives do very little honour to the policy of Europe. 
+
+The English puritans, restrained at home, fled for freedom to 
+America, and established there the four governments of New En- 
+gland. The English catholics, treated with much greater injustice, 
+established that of M aryland; the quakers, that of Pennsylvania. 
+T he Portuguesejews, persecuted by theinquisition, stript of their 
+fortunes, and banished to Brazil, introduced, by their example, 
+somesort of order and industry amongthetran sported felonsand 
+strumpets by whom that colony wasoriginally peopled, and taught 
+them the culture of the sugar-cane. Upon all these different occa- 
+sions, it was not the wisdom and policy, but the disorder and in- 
+justice of the European governments, which peopled and culti- 
+vated America. 
+
+
+
+I n effectuation some of the most important of these establish- 
+ments, the different governments of Europe had as little merit as 
+in projecting them. The conquest of M exico was the project, not 
+of the council of Spain, but of a governor of Cuba; and it was 
+effectuated by the spirit of the bold adventurer to whom it was 
+entrusted, in spite of everything which that governor, who soon 
+repented of having trusted such a person, could do to thwart it. 
+The conquerors of Chili and Peru, and of almost all the other 
+Spanish settlements upon the continent of America, carried out 
+with them no other public encouragement, but a general permis- 
+sion to make settlements and conquestsin thenameof thekingof 
+Spain. Those adventures were all at the private risk and expense of 
+theadventurers.Thegovernment of Spain contributed scarce any 
+thing to any of them. That of England contributed as little to- 
+wards effectuating the establishment of some of its most impor- 
+tant colonies in N orth America. 
+
+When those establishments were effectuated, and had become 
+so considerable as to attract the attention of the mother country, 
+the first regulations which she made with regard to them, had 
+always in view to secure to herself the monopoly of their com- 
+merce; to confine their market, and to enlarge her own at their 
+expense, and, consequently, rather to damp and discourage, than 
+to quicken and forward the course of their prosperity. In thedif- 
+
+
+
+476 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+ferent ways in which this monopoly has been exercised, consists 
+one of the most essential differences in the policy of the different 
+European nations with regard to their colonies The best of them 
+all, that of England, is only somewhat less illiberal and oppressive 
+than that of any of the rest. 
+
+In what way, therefore, has the policy of Europe contributed 
+either to thefirst establishment, or to the present grandeur of the 
+colonies of America? In oneway, and in oneway only, it has con- 
+tributed a good deal. M agnavirum mater! It bred and formed the 
+men who were capable of achieving such great actions, and of 
+laying thefoundation of so great an empire; and there is no other 
+quarter of the world; of which the policy is capable of forming, or 
+has ever actually, and in fact, formed such men. The colonies owe 
+to the policy of Europe the education and great views of their 
+active and enterprizing founders; and some of the greatest and 
+most important of them, so far as concerns their internal govern- 
+ment, owe to it scarce anything else. 
+
+
+
+PART III 
+
+Of the Advantages which Europe has derived From the 
+
+D iscovery of America, and from that of a Passage to the 
+
+East Indies by the Cape of Good Hope 
+
+Such are the advantages which the colonies of America have 
+derived from the policy of Europe. 
+
+What are those which Europe has derived from the discovery 
+and colonization of America? 
+
+Those advantages may be divided, first, into the general advan- 
+tages which Europe, considered as one great country, has derived 
+from those great events; and, secondly, into the particular advan- 
+tages which each colonizing country has derived from the colo- 
+nies which particularly belong to it, in consequenceof theauthor- 
+ity or dominion which it exercises over them. 
+
+The general advantages which Europe, considered as one great 
+country, has derived from the discovery and colonization of 
+America, consist, first, in the increase of its enjoyments; and, sec- 
+ondly, in the augmentation of its industry. 
+
+The surplus produce of America imported into Europe, fur- 
+nishes the inhabitants of this great continent with a variety of 
+commodities which they could not otherwisehave possessed; some 
+
+
+
+477 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+for conveniency and use, some for pleasure, and some for orna- 
+ment; and thereby contributes to increase their enjoyments. 
+
+The discovery and colonization of America, it will readily be 
+allowed, have contributed to augment the industry, first, of all the 
+countries which tradeto it directly, such as Spain, Portugal, France, 
+and England; and, secondly, of all those which, without trading 
+to it directly, send, through themedium of other countries, goods 
+to it of their own produce, such as Austrian Flanders, and some 
+provinces of Germany, which, through themedium of the coun- 
+tries before mentioned, send to it a considerable quantity of linen 
+and other goods. All such countries have evidently gained a more 
+exten si vemarket for their surplusproduce, and must consequently 
+have been encouraged to increase its quantity. 
+
+But that those great events should likewise have contributed to 
+encourage the industry of countries such asH ungaryand Poland, 
+which may never, perhaps, have sent a single commodity of their 
+own produce to America, is not, perhaps, altogether so evident. 
+That those events have done so, however, cannot bedoubted. Some 
+part of the produce of America is consumed in Hungary and Po- 
+land, and thereissomedemand therefor thesugar, chocolate, and 
+tobacco, of that new quarter of theworld. Butthosecommodities 
+must be purchased with something which iseither theproduceof 
+the industry of H ungary and Poland, or with something which 
+
+
+
+had been purchased with some part of that produce. T hose com- 
+modities of America are new values, new equivalents, introduced 
+into Hungary and Poland, to be exchanged therefor the surplus 
+produce of these countries. By being carried thither, they create a 
+new and more extensive market for that surplus produce. They 
+raise its value, and thereby contribute to encourage its increase. 
+Though no part of it may ever be carried to America, it may be 
+carried to other countries, which purchase it with a part of their 
+shareofthesurplusproduceof America, and it may find a market 
+bymeansof the circulation of that trade which was originally put 
+into motion by the surplus produce of America. 
+
+T hose great events may even have contributed to increase the 
+enjoyments, and to augment the industry, of countries which not 
+only never sent any commodities to America, but never received 
+anyfrom it. Even such countriesmay have received a greater abun- 
+dance of other commodities from countries, of which the surplus 
+produce had been augmented by means of the American trade. 
+T h i s greater ab u n d an ce, as i t m u st n ecessari I y h ave i n creased th ei r 
+enjoyments, so it must likewise have augmented their industry. A 
+greater number of new equivalents, of some kind or other, must 
+have been presented to them to be exchanged for the surplus pro- 
+duce of that industry. A more extensive market must have been 
+created for that surplusproduce, so asto raiseits value, and thereby 
+
+
+
+478 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+encourage itsincrease. The mass of commodities annually thrown 
+into the great circle of European commerce, and by its various 
+revolutions annually distributed among all the different nations 
+comprehended within it, must have been augmented bythewhole 
+surplus produce of America. A greater share of this greater mass, 
+therefore, is likely to have fallen to each of those nations, to have 
+increased their enjoyments, and augmented their industry. 
+
+The exclusive trade of the mother countries tendsto diminish, 
+or at least to keep down below what they would otherwise rise to, 
+both the enjoyments and industry of all those nations in general, 
+and of the American colonies in particular. It is a dead weight 
+upon the action of one of the great springs which puts into mo- 
+tion a great part of the business of mankind. By rendering the 
+colony produce dearer in all other countries, it lessens its con- 
+sumption, and thereby cramps the industry of the colonies, and 
+both theenjoyments and theindustry of all other countries, which 
+both enjoy less when they pay more for what they enjoy, and pro- 
+duce less when they get less for what they produce. By rendering 
+theproduceofall other countriesdearer in thecolonies, it cramps 
+in the same manner the industry of all other colonies, and both 
+the enjoyments and theindustry of thecolonies. It isaclog which, 
+for the supposed benefit of some particular countries, embarrasses 
+the pleasures and encumbers the industry of all other countries, 
+
+
+
+but of thecoloniesmorethan of any other. It not only excludes as 
+much as possible all other countries from one particular market, 
+but it confines as much as possible the colonies to one particular 
+market; and the difference is very great between being excluded 
+from one particular market when all others are open, and being 
+confined to one particular market when all others are shut up. 
+Thesurplusproduceof thecolonies, however, istheoriginal source 
+of all that increase of enjoyments and industry which Europe de- 
+rives from the discovery and colonization of America, and the 
+exclusive tradeofthemother countri es tendsto render thissource 
+much less abundant than it otherwise would be. 
+
+Theparticular advantages which each colonizing country derives 
+from the colonies which particularly belong to it, are of two differ- 
+ent kinds; first, those common advantages which every empire de- 
+rivesfromtheprovinces subject to itsdominion; and, secondly, those 
+peculiar ad vantages which are supposed to result from provinces of 
+so very peculiar a nature as the European colonies of America. 
+
+The common advantages which every empire derives from the 
+provinces subject to its dominion consist, first, in the military 
+force which they furnish for its defence; and, secondly, in the rev- 
+enue which they furnish for the support of its civil government. 
+TheRoman colonies furnished occasionally both theoneand the 
+other. The Greek colonies sometimes furnished a military force, 
+
+
+
+479 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+but seldom any revenue. They seldom acknowledged themselves 
+subject to the dominion of the mother city. They were generally 
+her allies in war, but very seldom her subjects in peace. 
+
+TheEuropeancoloniesofAmericahavenever yet furnished any 
+military force for the defence of the mother country. The military 
+force has never yet been sufficient for their own defence; and in 
+the different wars in which the mother countries have been en- 
+gaged, the defence of their colonies has generally occasioned a 
+very considerable distraction of the military force of those coun- 
+tries. In this respect, therefore, all the European colonies have, 
+without exception, been a cause rather of weakness than of strength 
+to their respective mother countries. 
+
+The colonies of Spain and Portugal only have contributed any 
+revenue towards the defence of the mother country, or the sup- 
+port of her civil government. The taxes which have been levied 
+upon those of other European nations, upon those of England in 
+particular, have seldom been equal to the expense laid out upon 
+them in time of peace, and never sufficient to defray that which 
+they occasioned in timeof war. Such colonies, therefore, have been 
+a source of expense, and not of revenue, to thei r respective mother 
+countries. 
+
+T headvantagesof such colonies to their respective mother coun- 
+tries, consist altogether in those peculiar advantages which aresup- 
+
+
+
+posed to result from provinces of so very peculiar a nature as the 
+European colonies of America; and the exclusive trade, it is ac- 
+knowledged, is the sole source of all those peculiar advantages. 
+
+In consequence of this exclusive trade, all that part of the sur- 
+plus produceof the English colonies, for example, which consists 
+in what are called enumerated commodities, can be sent to no 
+other country but England. ther countries must afterwards buy 
+it of her. It must be cheaper, therefore, in England than it can be 
+in any other country, and must contribute more to increase the 
+enjoyments of England than those of any other country. It must 
+likewise contribute more to encourage her industry. For all those 
+parts of her own surplus produce which England exchanges for 
+those enumerated commodities, she must get a better price than 
+any other countries can get for the I ike parts of theirs, when they 
+exchange them for the same commodities. The manufactures of 
+England, for example, will purchase a greater quantity of the sugar 
+and tobacco of her own colonies than the like manufactures of 
+other countries can purchase of that sugar and tobacco. So far, 
+therefore, as themanufacturesof England and those of other coun- 
+tries are both to be exchanged for the sugar and tobacco of the 
+English colonies, this superiority of pricegives an encouragement 
+to the former beyond what the latter can, in these circumstances, 
+enjoy. The exclusive trade of the colonies, therefore, as it dimin- 
+
+
+
+480 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+ishes, or at least keepsdown below what they would otherwise rise 
+to, both the enjoyments and the industry of the countries which 
+do not possess it, so it gives an evident advantage to the countries 
+which do possess it over those other countries. 
+
+This advantage, however, will, perhaps, be found to be rather 
+what may be called a relative than an absolute advantage, and to 
+give a superiority to the country which enjoys it, rather by de- 
+pressing the industry and produce of other countries, than by rais- 
+ing those of that particular country above what they would natu- 
+rally rise to in the case of a free trade. 
+
+Thetobacco of M aryland and Virginia, for example, by means 
+of the monopoly which England enjoys of it, certainly comes 
+cheaper to England than it can do to France to whom England 
+commonly sells a considerable part of it. But had France and all 
+other European countries been at all times allowed a free trade to 
+M aryland and Virginia, thetobacco of those colonies might by 
+thistimehavecomecheaperthan it actually does, not only to all 
+those other countries, but likewise to England. The produce of 
+tobacco, in consequenceof a market so much more extensive than 
+any which it has hitherto enjoyed, might, and probably would, by 
+thistimehavebeen so much increased as to reduce the profits of a 
+tobacco plantation to their natural level with those of acorn plan- 
+tation, which it is supposed they are still somewhat above. The 
+
+
+
+price of tobacco might, and probably would, by this time have 
+fallen somewhat lower than it is at present. An equal quantity of 
+the commodities, either of England or of those other countries, 
+might have purchased in M aryland and Virginia a greater quan- 
+tity of tobacco than it can do at present, and consequently have 
+been sold therefor so much a better price. So far as that weed, 
+therefore, can, by its cheapness and abundance, increase the en- 
+joyments, or augment the industry, either of England or of any 
+other country, it would probably, in the case of a free trade, have 
+produced both these effects in somewhat a greater degree than it 
+can do at present. England, indeed, would not, in thiscase, have 
+had any advantage over other countries. She might have bought 
+thetobacco of her colonies somewhat cheaper, and consequently 
+have sold some of her own commodities somewhat dearer, than 
+she actually does; but she could neither have bought the one 
+cheaper, nor sold the other dearer, than any other country might 
+have done. She might, perhaps, have gained an absolute, but she 
+would certainly have lost a relative advantage. 
+
+I n order, however, to obtain this relative advantage in thecolony 
+trade, in order to execute the invidious and malignant project of 
+excluding, asmuch as possible, other nationsfrom anysharein it, 
+England, there are very probable reasons for believing, has not 
+only sacrificed a part of the absolute advantage which she, as well 
+
+
+
+481 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+as every other nation, might havederived from that trade, but has 
+subjected herself both to an absolute and to a relative disadvan- 
+tage in almost every other branch of trade. 
+
+When, by the act of navigation, England assumed to herself the 
+monopoly of the colony trade, the foreign capitals which had be- 
+fore been employed in it, were necessarily withdrawn from it. The 
+English capital, which had before carried on but a part of it, was 
+now to carry on the whole. T he capital which had before supplied 
+the colonies with but a part of the goods which they wanted from 
+Europe, was now all that was employed to supply them with the 
+whole. But it could not supply them with the whole; and thegoods 
+with which it did supply them were necessarily sold very dear. T he 
+capital which had before bought but a part of the surplus produce 
+of the colonies, was now all that was employed to buy the whole. 
+But it could not buy thewholeat any thing near theold price; and 
+therefore, whatever it did buy, it necessarily bought very cheap. But 
+in an employment of capital, in which the merchant sold very dear, 
+and bought very cheap, the profit must have been very great, and 
+much above the ordinary level of profit in other branches of trade. 
+This superiority of profit in the colony trade could not fail to draw 
+from other branches of trade a part of the capital which had before 
+been employed in them. But this revulsion of capital, as it must 
+have gradually increased the competition of capitals in the colony 
+
+
+
+trade, so it must have gradually diminished that competition in all 
+those other branches of trade; as it must have gradually lowered the 
+profitsoftheone, so it must have gradually raised thoseoftheother, 
+till the profits of all cameto a new level, different from, and some- 
+what higher, than that at which they had been before. 
+
+This double effect of drawing capital from all other trades, and 
+of raising the rate of profit somewhat higher than it otherwise 
+would have been in all trades, was not only produced by this mo- 
+nopoly upon its first establishment, but has continued to be pro- 
+duced by it ever since. 
+
+First, 
+
+This monopoly has been continually drawing capital from all 
+other trades, to be employed in that of the colonies. 
+
+Though the wealth of Great Britain has increased very much 
+since the establishment of the act of navigation, it certainly has 
+not increased in the same proportion as that or the colonies. But 
+the foreign trade of every country naturally increases in propor- 
+tion to its wealth, its surplus produce in proportion to its whole 
+produce; and Great Britain having engrossed to herself almost the 
+whole of what may be called theforeign trade of the colonies, and 
+her capital not having increased in the same proportion as the 
+extent of that trade, she could not carry it on without continually 
+withdrawing from other branchesoftradesome part of thecapital 
+
+
+
+482 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+which had before been employed in them, as well as withholding 
+from them a great deal more which would otherwise have goneto 
+them. Since the establishment of the act of navigation, accord- 
+ingly, the colony trade has been continually increasing, whilemany 
+other branches of foreign trade, particularly of that to other parts 
+of Europe, have been continually decaying. ur manufacturesfor 
+foreign sale, instead of being suited, as before the act of naviga- 
+tion, to the neighbouring market of Europe, or to the more dis- 
+tant one of the countries which lie round the M editerranean sea, 
+have the greater part of them, been accommodated to the still 
+moredistantoneofthecolonies; to the market in which they have 
+the monopoly, rather than to that in which they have many com- 
+petitors. The causes of decay in other branches of foreign trade, 
+which, by Sir M atthew Decker and other writers, have been sought 
+for in theexcessand improper modeof taxation, in thehigh price 
+of labour, in the increase of luxury, etc. may all be found in the 
+overgrowth of the colony trade. T he mercantile capital of G reat 
+Britain, though very great, yet not being infinite, and though greatly 
+increased since the act of navigation, yet not being increased in 
+the same proportion as thecolony trade, that trade could not pos- 
+sibly be carried on without withdrawing some part of that capital 
+from other branches of trade, nor consequently without some de- 
+cay of those other branches. 
+
+
+
+England, it must be observed, was a great trading country, her 
+mercantile capital was very great, and likely to becomestill greater 
+and greater every day, not only before the act of navigation had 
+established the monopoly of the corn trade, but before that trade 
+was very considerable. In the Dutch war, during the government 
+of Cromwell, her navy was superior to that of H olland; and in 
+that which broke out in the beginning of the reign of Charles 1 1., 
+itwas at least equal, perhaps superior to theunited naviesof France 
+and H olland. Its superiority, perhaps, would scarce appear greater 
+in the present times, at least if the D utch navy were to bear the 
+same proportion to the Dutch commerce now which it did then. 
+But this great naval power could not, in either of those wars, be 
+owing to the act of navigation. D uring thefirst of them, the plan 
+of thatacthad been but just formed; and though, before the break- 
+ing out of the second, it had been fully enacted bylegal authority, 
+yet no part of it could have had time to produce any considerable 
+effect, and least of all that part which established the exclusive 
+trade to the colonies. Both the colonies and their trade were in- 
+considerable then, in comparison of what they are how. The is- 
+land of Jamaica was an unwholesome desert, little inhabited, and 
+less cultivated. New York and New Jersey were in the possession of 
+the D utch, the half of St. C hristopher's in that of the French. T he 
+island of Antigua, the two Carol in as, Pennsylvania, Georgia, and 
+
+
+
+483 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+Nova Scotia, were not planted. Virginia, Maryland, and New 
+England were planted; and though they were very thriving colo- 
+nies, yet there was not perhaps at that time, either in Europe or 
+America, a singleperson who foresaw, or even suspected, therapid 
+progress which they have since made in wealth, population, and 
+improvement. The island of Barbadoes, in short, was the only 
+British colony of any consequence, of which thecondition at that 
+time bore any resemblance to what it is at present. T he trade of 
+thecolonies, of which England, even for some time after the act of 
+navigation, enjoyed but a part (for the act of navigation was not 
+very strictly executed till several years after it was enacted), could 
+not at that ti me be the cause of the great trade of E ngland, nor of 
+the great naval power which was supported by that trade. The 
+trade which atthattimesupported that great naval power was the 
+trade of Europe, and of the countries which lie round the Medi- 
+terranean sea. But the share which Great Britain at present enjoys 
+of that trade could not support any such great naval power. H ad 
+the growing trade of thecolonies been left free to all nations, what- 
+ever share of it might have fallen to Great Britain, and a very con- 
+siderable share would probably have fallen to her, must have been 
+all an addition to this great trade of which she was before in pos- 
+session. In consequenceof themonopoly, theincreaseofthecolony 
+trade has not so much occasioned an addition to the trade which 
+
+
+
+Great Britain had before, as a total change in its direction. 
+
+Secondly, 
+
+T his monopoly has necessarily contributed to keep up the rate 
+of profit, in all thedifferent branches of British trade, higher than 
+it naturally would have been, had all nations been allowed a free 
+trade to the British colonies. 
+
+The monopoly of the colony trade, as it necessarily drew to- 
+wards that trade a greater proportion of the capital of G reat Brit- 
+ain than what would have gone to it of its own accord, so, by the 
+expulsion of all foreign capitals, it necessarily reduced the whole 
+quantity of capital employed in that trade below what it naturally 
+would have been in the case of a free trade. But, by lessening the 
+competition of capitalsin that branch of trade, it necessarily raised 
+the rate of profit in that branch. By lessening, too, the competi- 
+tion of British capitalsin all other branches of trade, it necessarily 
+raised the rate of British profit in all those other branches. What- 
+ever may have been, at any particular period since the establish- 
+ment of the act of navigation, thestateor extent of the mercantile 
+capital of Great Britain, the monopoly of the colony trade must, 
+during thecontinuanceof that state, haveraisedtheordinaryrate 
+of British profit higher than it otherwise would have been, both in 
+that and in all the other branches of British trade. If, since the 
+establishment of the act of navigation, the ordinary rate of British 
+
+
+
+484 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+profit hasfallen considerably, as it certainly has, it must havefallen 
+still lower, had not the monopoly established by that act contrib- 
+uted to keep it up. 
+
+But whatever raises, in any country, the ordinary rate of profit 
+higher than it otherwise would be, necessarily subjects that coun- 
+try both to an absolute, and to a relative disadvantage in every 
+branch of trade of which she has not the monopoly. 
+
+It subjects her to an absolute disadvantage; because, in such 
+branches of trade, her merchants cannot get this greater profit 
+without selling dearer than they otherwise would do, both the 
+goods of foreign countries which they import into their own, and 
+thegoodsof their own country which they export to foreign coun- 
+tries. Their own country must both buy dearer and sell dearer; 
+must both buy less, and sell less; must both enjoy less and produce 
+less, than she otherwise would do. 
+
+It subjects her to a relative disadvantage; because, in such 
+branches of trade, it sets other countries, which are not subject to 
+the same absolute disadvantage, either more above her or less be- 
+low her, than they otherwise would be. It enables them both to 
+enjoy more and to produce more, in proportion to what she en- 
+joys and produces. It renderstheir superiority greater, or their in- 
+feriority less, than it otherwise would be. By raising the price of 
+herproduceabovewhatitotherwisewould be, it enables the mer- 
+
+
+
+chants of other countries to undersell her in foreign markets, and 
+thereby to justle her out of almost all those branches of trade, of 
+which she has not the monopoly. 
+
+Our merchants frequently complain of the high wages of Brit- 
+ish labour, as the cause of their manufactures being undersold in 
+foreign markets; butthey aresilentaboutthehigh profits of stock. 
+They complain of the extravagant gain of other people; butthey 
+say nothing of their own. The high profits of British stock, how- 
+ever, may contribute towards raisingthepriceof British manufac- 
+tures, in many cases, as much, and in some perhaps more, than 
+the high wages of British labour. 
+
+It is in this manner that the capital of Great Britain, one may 
+justly say, has partly been drawn and partly been driven from the 
+greater part of thedifferent branchesof tradeof which she has not 
+themonopoly; from thetradeof Europe, in particular, and from 
+that of the countries which lie round the Mediterranean sea. 
+
+It has partly been drawn from those branches of trade, by the 
+attraction of superior profit in the colony trade, in consequenceof 
+the continual increase of that trade, and of the continual insuffi- 
+ciency of thecapital which had carried it on oneyear to carry it on 
+thenext. 
+
+It has partly been driven from them, by the advantage which 
+the high rate of profit established in Great Britain gives to other 
+
+
+
+485 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+countries, in all the different branches of trade of which Great 
+Britain has not the monopoly. 
+
+Asthe monopoly of thecolonytradehasdrawn from those other 
+branches a part of the British capital, which would otherwise have 
+been employed in them, so it has forced into them many foreign 
+capitals which would never have gone to them, had they not been 
+expelled from the colony trade. In those other branches of trade, 
+it has diminished the competition of British capitals, and thereby 
+raised the rate of British profit higher than it otherwise would 
+have been. n the contrary, it has increased the competition of 
+foreign capitals, and thereby sunk the rate of foreign profit lower 
+than it otherwise would have been. Both in the one way and in 
+the other, it must evidently have subjected Great Britain to a rela- 
+tive disadvantage in all those other branches of trade. 
+
+T he colony trade, however, it may perhaps be said, is more ad- 
+vantageous to Great Britain than any other; and themonopoly, by 
+forcing into that tradea greater proportion of thecapital of Great 
+Britain than what would otherwise have gone to it, has turned 
+that capital into an employment, more advantageous to the coun- 
+try than any other which it could have found. 
+
+T hemost advantageousemployment of any capital to thecoun- 
+try to which it belongs, isthat which main tains there the greatest 
+quantity of productive labour, and in creases the most the annual 
+
+
+
+produce of the land and labour of that country. But the quantity 
+of productive labour which any capital employed in the foreign 
+trade of consumption can maintain, is exactly in proportion, it 
+has been shown in the second book, to the frequency of its re- 
+turns. A capital of a thousand pounds, for example, employed in a 
+foreign tradeof consumption, of which the returns are made regu- 
+larly once in the year, can keep in constant employment, in the 
+country to which it belongs, a quantity of productive labour, equal 
+to what a thousand pounds can maintain therefor a year. If the 
+returnsaremadetwiceorthricein theyear, itcan keep in constant 
+employment a quantity of productive labour, equal to what two 
+or three thou sand pounds can maintain therefor a year. A foreign 
+tradeof consumption carried on with a neighbouring, is upon 
+that account, in general, more advantageous than onecarried on 
+with a distant country; and, for the same reason, a direct foreign 
+tradeof consumption, asithaslikewise been shown inthesecond 
+book, isin general more advantageous than a round-about one. 
+But the monopoly of the colony trade, so far as it has operated 
+upon the employment of thecapital of Great Britain, has, in all 
+cases, forced some part of it from a foreign trade of consumption 
+carried on with a neighbouring, to one carried on with a more 
+distant country, and in many cases from a direct foreign trade of 
+consumption to a round-about one. 
+
+
+
+486 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+First, 
+
+The monopoly of the colony trade has, in all cases, forced some 
+part of the capital of Great Britain from a foreign trade of con- 
+sumption carried on with a neighbouring, to onecarried on with 
+a more distant country. 
+
+It has, in all cases, forced some part of that capital from the 
+trade with Europe, and with the countries which lie round the 
+M editerranean sea, to that with themoredistantregionsof America 
+and the West Indies; from which the returns are necessarily less 
+frequent, not only on account of the greater distance, but on ac- 
+count of the peculiar circumstances of those countries. New colo- 
+nies, it has already been observed, are always understocked. Their 
+capital is always much less than what they could employ with 
+great profit and advantage in the improvement and cultivation of 
+their land. T hey havea constant demand, therefore, for more capital 
+than they have of their own; and, in order to supply thedeficiency 
+oftheirown, they endeavourto borrow asmuch as they can of the 
+mother country, to whom they are, therefore, always in debt. T he 
+most common way in which thecolonies contract thisdebt, isnot 
+by borrowing upon bond of the rich people of the mother coun- 
+try, though they sometimes do thistoo, but by running as much 
+in arrear to their correspondents, who supply them with goods 
+from Europe, as those correspondents will allow them. Their an- 
+
+
+
+nual returns frequently do not amount to more than a third, and 
+sometimes not to so great a proportion of what they owe. The 
+whole capital, therefore, which their correspondents advance to 
+them, is seldom returned to Britain in less than three, and some- 
+times not in less than four or five years. But a British capital of a 
+thousand pounds, for example, which is returned to G reat Britain 
+only once in five years, can keep in constant employment only 
+one-fifth part of the British industry which it could maintain, if 
+the whole was returned oncein theyear; and, instead of thequan- 
+tity of industry which a thousand pounds could maintain for a 
+year, can keep in constant employment the quantity only which 
+two hundred pounds can maintain for a year. The planter, no 
+doubt, by the high price which he pays for the goods from Eu- 
+rope, bytheinterestupon thebillswhich hegrantsat distant dates, 
+and by thecommission upon therenewal of those which hegrants 
+at near dates, makesup, and probably more than makesup, all the 
+loss which hiscorrespondentcan sustain bythisdday. But, though 
+he make up the loss of his correspondent, he cannot makeup that 
+of Great Britain. In a trade of which the returns are very distant, 
+the profit of the merchant may be as great or greater than in one 
+in which they are very frequent and near; but the advantage of the 
+country in which he resides, the quantity of productive labour 
+constantly maintained there, the annual produce of the land and 
+
+
+
+487 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+labour, must always be much less. That the returns of thetradeto 
+America, and still more those of that to the West Indies, are, in 
+general, not only more distant, but more irregular and more un- 
+certain, too, than those of thetradeto any part of Europe, or even 
+of thecountries which lieround theM editerranean sea, will readily 
+be allowed, I imagine, by everybody who has any experience of 
+those different branches of trade. 
+
+Secondly, 
+
+The monopoly of the colony trade, has, in many cases, forced 
+some part of the capital of Great Britain from a direct foreign 
+trade of consumption, into a round-about one. 
+
+Among the enumerated commodities which can be sent to no 
+other market but Great Britain, there are several of which thequan- 
+tity exceeds very much the consumption of Great Britain, and of 
+which, a part, therefore, must be exported to other countries. But 
+this cannot be done without forcing some part of the capital of 
+Great Britain into a round-about foreign trade of consumption. 
+M aryland, and Virginia, for example, send annually to Great Brit- 
+ain upwardsof ninety-sixthousand hogsheadsof tobacco, and the 
+consumption of Great Britain issaid not to exceed fourteen thou- 
+sand. Upwardsof eighty-two thousand hogsheads, therefore, must 
+be exported to other countries, to France, to H olland, and, to the 
+countries which lieround the Baltic and Mediterranean seas. But 
+
+
+
+that part of the capital of Great Britain which brings those eighty- 
+two thousand hogsheads to Great Britain, which re-exports them 
+from thenceto thoseother countries, and which brings back from 
+those other countries to Great Britain either goods or money in 
+return, is employed in a round-about foreign trade of consump- 
+tion; and is necessarily forced into this employment, in order to 
+dispose of this great surplus. If we would compute in how many 
+years the whole of this capital is likely to come back to Great 
+Britain, we must add to the distance of the American returns that 
+of the returns from those other countries. If, in the direct foreign 
+tradeof consumption which wecarry on with America, the whole 
+capital employed frequently does not come back in I ess than three 
+or four years, the wholecapital employed in this round-about one 
+isnot likely to comeback in less than four or five. If theonecan 
+keep in constant employment but a third or a fourth part of the 
+domestic industry which could bemaintained by acapital returned 
+once in the year, the other can keep in constant employment but 
+a fourth or a fifth part of that industry. At some of the outports a 
+credit iscommonly given to thoseforeign correspondents to whom 
+they export them tobacco. At the port of London, indeed, it is 
+commonly sold for ready money: the rule is Weigh and pay. At 
+theport of London, therefore, thefinal returns of the wholeround- 
+about trade are more distant than the returns from America, by 
+
+
+
+488 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+the time only which the goods may lie unsold in the warehouse; 
+where, however, they may sometimes lie long enough. But, had 
+not the colonies been confined to the market of Great Britain for 
+the sale of their tobacco, very little more of it would probably 
+have come to us than what was necessary for the home consump- 
+tion. The goods which Great Britain purchases at present for her 
+own consumption with the great surplus of tobacco which she 
+exports to other countries, she would, in this case, probably have 
+purchased with the immediate produce of her own industry, or 
+with some part of her own manufactures. That produce, those 
+manufactures, instead of being almost entirely suited toonegreat 
+market, as at present, would probably have been fitted to a great 
+number of smaller markets. I nstead of one great round-about for- 
+eign trade of consumption, Great Britain would probably have 
+carried on a great number of small direct foreign trades of the 
+same kind. n account of the frequency of the returns, a part, 
+and probably but a small part, perhaps not above a third or a 
+fourth of the capital which at present carries on this great round- 
+about trade, might have been sufficient to carry on all those small 
+direct ones; might have kept inconstant employment an equal 
+quantity of British industry; and have equally supported the an- 
+nual produce of the land and labour of Great Britain. All the pur- 
+poses of this trade being, in this manner, answered by a much 
+
+
+
+smaller capital, there would have been a large spare capital to ap- 
+ply to other purposes; to improve thelands, to increase themanu- 
+factures, and to extend the commerce of Great Britain; to come 
+into competition at least with theother British capitals em ployed 
+in all those different ways, to reduce the rate of profit in them all, 
+and thereby to give to Great Britain, in all of them, a superiority 
+over other countries, still greater than what she at present enjoys. 
+
+The monopoly of thecolonytrade, too, has forced some part of 
+thecapital of Great Britain from all foreign trade of consumption 
+to a carrying trade; and, consequently from supporting more or 
+less the industry of Great Britain, to be employed altogether in 
+supporting partly that of the colonies, and partly that of some 
+other countries. 
+
+Thegoods, for example, which are annually purchased with the 
+great surplus of eighty-two thousand hogsheads of tobacco annu- 
+ally re-exported from Great Britain, are not all consumed in Great 
+Britain. Part of them, linen from Germany and Holland, for ex- 
+ample, is returned to the colonies for their particular consump- 
+tion. But that part of thecapital of Great Britain which buys the 
+tobacco with which this linen is afterwards bought, is necessarily 
+withdrawn from supporting the industry of Great Britain, to be 
+employed altogether in supporting, partly that of the colonies, 
+and partly that of the particular countries who pay for this to- 
+
+
+
+489 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+bacco with the produce of their own industry. 
+
+The monopoly of the colony trade, besides, by forcing towards it 
+a much greater proportion of the capital of Great Britain than 
+what would naturally have gone to it, seems to have broken alto- 
+gether that natural balance which would otherwisehave taken place 
+among all thedifferent branches of British industry. The industry 
+of G reat Britain, instead of being accommodated to a great num- 
+ber of small markets, has been principally suited to onegreat mar- 
+ket. Her commerce, instead of running in a great number of small 
+channels, has been taught to run principally in onegreat channel. 
+But the whole system of her industry and commerce has thereby 
+been rendered lesssecure; thewholestateof her body politic less 
+healthful than it otherwisewould have been. In her present condi- 
+tion, Great Britain resembles oneofthoseunwholesomebodiesin 
+which some of the vital parts are overgrown, and which, upon 
+that account, are liableto many dangerous disorders, scarce inci- 
+dent to those in which all the parts are more properly propor- 
+tioned. A small stop in that great blood-vessel, which has been 
+artificially swelled beyond its natural dimensions, and through 
+which an unnatural proportion of the industry and commerce of 
+the country has been forced to circulate, is very likely to bring on 
+the most dangerous disorders upon the whole body politic. T he 
+
+
+
+expectation of a rupture with thecolonies, accordingly, has struck 
+thepeopleof Great Britain with more terrorthan they everfelt for 
+a Spanish armada, or a French invasion. It was this terror, whether 
+well or ill grounded, which rendered the repeal of the stamp act, 
+among the merchants at least, a popular measure. I n the total ex- 
+clusion from thecolony market, wasitto last only for a few years, 
+the greater part of our merchants used to fancy that they foresaw 
+an entire stop to their trade; the greater part of our master manu- 
+facturers, the entire ruin of their business; and the greater part of 
+our workmen, an end of their employment. A rupture with any of 
+our neighbours upon the continent, though likely, too, to occa- 
+sion somestop or interruption in the employments of someof all 
+these different orders of people, isforeseen, however, without any 
+such general emotion. Theblood, of which the circulation isstopt 
+in someof thesmaller vessels, easily disgorges itself into thegreater, 
+without occasioning any dangerousdisorder; but, when it isstopt 
+in any of the greater vessels, convulsions, apoplexy, or death, are 
+theimmediateandunavoidableconsequences. If but one of those 
+overgrown manufactures, which, by means either of bounties or 
+of the monopoly of thehomeand colony markets, have been arti- 
+ficially raised up to any unnatural height, findssome small stop or 
+interruption in its employment, it frequently occasions a mutiny 
+and disorder alarming to government, and embarrassing even to 
+
+
+
+490 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+the deliberations of the legislature. H ow great, therefore, would 
+bethedisorder and confusion, it was thought, which must neces- 
+sarily be occasioned by a sudden and entire stop in the employ- 
+ment of so great a proportion of our principal manufacturers? 
+
+Some moderate and gradual relaxation of the laws which give to 
+Great Britain the exclusive tradetothecolonies, till it isrendered 
+in a great measure free, seemsto be theonly expedient which can, 
+in all future times, deliver her from this danger; which can enable 
+her, or even force her, to withdraw some part of her capital from 
+thisovergrown employment, and to turn it, though with lessprofit, 
+towards other employments; and which, by gradually diminish- 
+ing one branch of her industry, and gradually increasing all the 
+rest, can, by degrees, restore all the different branches of it to that 
+natural, healthful, and proper proportion, which perfect liberty 
+necessarily establishes, and which perfect liberty can alone pre- 
+serve. To open the colony trade all at once to all nations, might 
+not only occasion sometransitoryinconveniency, but a great per- 
+manent loss, to the greater part of those whose industry or capital 
+is at present engaged in it. The sudden loss of the employment, 
+even of the ships which import the eighty-two thousand hogs- 
+heads of tobacco, which are over and above the consumption of 
+Great Britain, might alone be felt very sensibly. Such are the un- 
+fortunate effects of all the regulations of the mercantile system. 
+
+
+
+They not only introduce very dangerous disorders into the state 
+of the body politic, but disorders which it is often difficult to 
+remedy, without occasioning, for a timeat least, still greater disor- 
+ders. In what manner, therefore, the colony trade ought gradually 
+to be opened; what are therestraints which ought first, and what 
+are those which ought last, to betaken away; or in what manner 
+thenatural system of perfect liberty and justiceoughtgradually to 
+be restored, we must leave to the wisdom of future statesmen and 
+legislators to determine. 
+
+Five different events, unforeseen and unthought of, have very 
+fortunately concurred to hinder G reat Britain from feeling, so sen- 
+sibly as it was generally expected she would, the total exclusion 
+which has now taken place for more than a year (from the first of 
+D ecember 1774) from a very important branch of thecolony trade, 
+that of the twelve associated provinces of N orth America. First, 
+those colonies, in preparing themselves for their non-importation 
+agreement, drained Great Britain completely of all the commodi- 
+ties which were fit for their market; secondly, the extra ordinary 
+demand of theSpanish flotahas, thisyear, drained Germany and 
+the north of many commodities, linen in particular, which used 
+to come into competition, even in the British market, with the 
+manufactures of Great Britain; thirdly, the peace between Russia 
+and Turkey has occasioned an extraordinary demand from the 
+
+
+
+491 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+Turkey market, which, during thedistress of thecountry, and while 
+a Russian fleet was cruizing in the Archipelago, had been very 
+poorly supplied; fourthly, the demand of the north of Europe for 
+the manufactures of Great Britain has been increasing from year 
+to year, for some time past; and, fifthly, the late partition, and 
+consequential pacification of Poland, by opening the market of 
+that great country, have, thisyear, added an extraordinary demand 
+from thence to the increasing demand of the north. T hese events 
+are all, except the fourth, in their nature transitory and accidental; 
+and theexdusion from so important a branch of the colony trade, 
+if unfortunately it should continue much longer, may still occa- 
+sion somedegree of distress. Thisdistress, however, asit will come 
+on gradually, will be felt much less severely than if ithadcomeon 
+all at once; and, in the mean time, the industry and capital of the 
+country may find a new employment and direction, so as to pre- 
+vent this distress from ever rising to any considerable height. 
+
+The monopoly of the colony trade, therefore, so far as it has 
+turned towards that trade a greater proportion of the capital of 
+Great Britain than what would otherwise have gone to it, has in 
+all cases turned it, from a foreign trade of consumption with a 
+neighbouring, into one with a moredistant country; in many cases 
+from a direct foreign trade of consumption into a round-about 
+one; and, in some cases, from all foreign trade of consumption 
+
+
+
+into a carrying trade. It has, in all cases, therefore, turned it from 
+a direction in which it would have maintained a greater quantity 
+of productive labour, into one in which it can maintain a much 
+smaller quantity. By suiting, besides, to oneparticular market only, 
+so great a part of the industry and commerce of Great Britain, it 
+has rendered thewholestate of that industry and commerce more 
+precarious and less secure, than if their produce had been accom- 
+modated to a greater variety of markets. 
+
+We must carefully distinguish between the effects of the colony 
+trade and those of the monopoly of that trade. The former are 
+always and necessarily beneficial; the latter always and necessarily 
+hurtful. But the former are so beneficial, that the colony trade, 
+though subject to a monopoly, and, notwithstanding the hurtful 
+effects of that monopoly, is still, upon the whole, beneficial, and 
+greatly beneficial, though a good deal less so than it otherwise 
+would be. 
+
+The effect of the colony trade, in its natural and free state, isto 
+open a great though distant market, for such parts of the produce 
+of British industry asmay exceed thedemand of the markets nearer 
+home, of those of Europe, and of the countries which lie round 
+the M editerranean sea. In its natural and free state, the colony 
+trade, without drawing from those markets any part of the pro- 
+duce which had ever been sent to them, encourages Great Britain 
+
+
+
+492 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+to increase the surplus continually, by continually presenting new 
+equivalents to be exchanged for it. In its natural and free state, the 
+colony trade tends to increase the quantity of productive labour 
+in Great Britain, but without altering in any respect thedirection 
+of that which had been employed there before. In the natural and 
+free state of the colony trade, the competition of all other nations 
+would hinder the rate of profit from rising above the common 
+level, either in the new market, or in the new employment. The 
+new market, without drawing any thing from the old one, would 
+create, if one may say so, a new produce for its own supply; and 
+that new produce would constitute a new capital for carrying on 
+the new employment, which, in the same manner, would draw 
+nothing from the old one. 
+
+The monopoly of the colony trade, on the contrary, by exclud- 
+ing the competition of other nations, and thereby raising the rate 
+of profit, both in the new market and in the new employment, 
+draws produce from theold market, and capital from theold em- 
+ployment. To augment our share of the colony trade beyond what 
+it otherwise would be, is the avowed purpose of the monopoly. If 
+our share of that trade were to be no greater with, than it would 
+have been without the monopoly, there could have been no rea- 
+son for establishing the monopoly. But whatever forces into a 
+branch of trade, of which the returns are slower and more distant 
+
+
+
+than those of the greater part of other trades, a greater proportion 
+of the capital of any country, than what of its own accord would 
+go to that branch, necessarily renders the whole quantity of pro- 
+ductive labour annually maintained there, the whole annual pro- 
+duce of the land and labour of that country, less than they other- 
+wise would be. It keeps down the revenue of the inhabitants of 
+that country below what it would naturally rise to, and thereby 
+diminishes theirpower of accumulation. It not only hinders, at all 
+times, their capital from maintaining so great a quantity of pro- 
+ductive labour as it would otherwise maintain, but it hinders it 
+from in creasing so fast as it would otherwise increase, and, conse- 
+quently, from maintaining a still greater quantity of productive 
+labour. 
+
+The natural good effects of the colony trade, however, more 
+than counterbalance to Great Britain the bad effects of the mo- 
+nopoly; so that, monopoly and altogether, that trade, even as it is 
+carried on at present, is not only advantageous, but greatly advan- 
+tageous. The new market and the new employment which are 
+opened by the colony trade, are of much greater extent than that 
+portion of the old market and of the old employment which is 
+lost by the monopoly. The new produce and the new capital which 
+has been created, if one may say so, by the colony trade, maintain 
+in Great Britain agreater quantity of productive labour than what 
+
+
+
+493 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+can havebeen thrown out of employment by therevulsion of capital 
+from other trades of which the returns are more frequent. If the 
+colony trade, however, even as it is carried on at present, is advan- 
+tageous to G reat Britain, it is not by means of the monopoly, but 
+in spite of the monopoly. 
+
+It is rather for the manufactured than for the rude produce of 
+Europe, that the colony trade opens a new market. Agriculture is 
+theproper business of all new colonies; a business which thecheap- 
+ness of land renders more advantageous than any other. They 
+abound, therefore, in the rude produce of land; and instead of 
+importing it from other countries, they have generally a large sur- 
+plus to export. In new colonies, agriculture either draws hands 
+from all other employments, or keeps them from going to any 
+other employment. T here are few handsto spare for the necessary, 
+and none for the ornamental manufactures. The greater part of 
+the manufactures of both kindstheyfind it cheaper to purchaseof 
+other countries than to make for themselves. It is chiefly by en- 
+couraging the manufactures of Europe, that thecolony trade indi- 
+rectly encourages its agriculture. The manufacturers of Europe, to 
+whom that trade gives employment, constitute a new market for 
+the produce of the land, and the most advantageous of all mar- 
+kets; the home market for the corn and cattle, for the bread and 
+butcher'smeat of Europe, isthusgreatly extended by meansof the 
+
+
+
+trade to America. 
+
+But that the monopoly of the trade of populous and thriving 
+colonies is not alone sufficient to establish, or even to maintain, 
+manufactures in any country, the examples of Spain and Portugal 
+sufficiently demonstrate. Spain and Portugal weremanufacturing 
+countries before they had any considerable colonies. Since they 
+had the richest and most fertile in the world, they have both ceased 
+to be so. 
+
+In Spain and Portugal, the bad effects of the monopoly, aggra- 
+vated by other causes, have, perhaps, nearly overbalanced the natu- 
+ral good effects of the colony trade. These causes seem to be other 
+monopoliesof differentkinds: thedegradation of thevalueof gold 
+and silver below what it is in most other countries; the exclusion 
+from foreign markets by improper taxes upon exportation, and 
+the narrowing of the home market, by still more improper taxes 
+upon thetransportation of goodsfrom onepart of the country to 
+another; but above all, that irregular and partial administration of 
+justice which often protects the rich and powerful debtor from 
+the pursuit of his injured creditor, and which makes the industri- 
+ous part of the nation afraid to prepare goods for the consump- 
+tion of those haughty and great men, to whom they dare not refuse 
+to sell upon credit, and from whom they are altogether uncertain 
+of repayment. 
+
+
+
+494 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+In England, on thecontrary, thenatural good effects of thecolony 
+trade, assisted by other causes, have in a great measure conquered 
+the bad effects of the monopoly. These causes seem to be, the 
+general liberty of trade, which, notwithstanding some restraints, 
+is at least equal, perhaps superior, to what it is in any other coun- 
+try; the liberty of exporting, duty free, almost all sorts of goods 
+which are theproduceof domestic industry, to almost anyforeign 
+country; and what, perhaps, isof still greater importance, theun- 
+bounded liberty of transporting them from one part of our own 
+country to any other, without being obliged to give any account 
+to any public office, without being liableto question or examina- 
+tion of any kind; but, above all, that equal and impartial adminis- 
+tration of justice, which renders the rights of the meanest British 
+subject respectableto thegreatest, and which, by securing to every 
+man the fruits of his own industry, gives the greatest and most 
+effectual encouragement to every sort of industry. 
+
+If the manufactures of Great Britain, however, have been ad- 
+vanced, as they certainly have, bythecolonytrade, ithasnotbeen 
+by means of the monopoly of that trade, but in spite of the mo- 
+nopoly. T he effect of the monopoly has been, not to augment the 
+quantity, but to alter the quality and shape of a part of the manu- 
+factures of Great Britain, and to accommodate to a market, from 
+which the returns are slow and distant, what would otherwise have 
+
+
+
+been accommodated to one from which the returns are frequent 
+and near. Its effect has consequently been, to turn a part of the 
+capital of Great Britain from an employment in which it would 
+have maintained a greater quantity of manufacturing industry, to 
+one in which it maintains a much smaller, and thereby to dimin- 
+ish, instead of increasing, the whole quantity of manufacturing 
+industry maintained in Great Britain. 
+
+The monopoly of the colony trade, therefore, like all the other 
+mean and malignant expedients of themercantilesystem, depresses 
+the industry of all other countries, but chiefly that of thecolonies, 
+without in the least increasing, but on the contrary diminishing, 
+that of the country in whose favour it is established. 
+
+The monopoly hinders the capital of that country, whatever 
+may, at any particular time, be the extent of that capital, from 
+maintaining so great a quantity of productive labour as it would 
+otherwise maintain, and from affording so great a revenueto the 
+industrious inhabitants as it would otherwise afford. But as capi- 
+tal can be increased only by savings from revenue, the monopoly, 
+by hindering it from affording so great a revenue as it would oth- 
+erwise afford, necessarily hinders it from increasing so fast as it 
+would otherwise increase, and consequently from maintaining a 
+still greater quantity of productive labour, and affording a still 
+greater revenueto the industriousinhabitantsof that country. One 
+
+
+
+495 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+great original source of revenue, therefore, the wages of labour, 
+the monopoly must necessarily have rendered, at all times, less 
+abundant than it otherwise would have been. 
+
+By raising the rate of mercantile profit, the monopoly discour- 
+ages the improvement of land. The profit of improvement de- 
+pends upon the difference between what the land actually pro- 
+duces, and what, by the application of a certain capital, it can be 
+made to produce. If this difference affords a greater profit than 
+what can be drawn from an equal capital in any mercantile em- 
+ployment, the improvement of land will draw capital from all 
+mercantile employments. If the profit is less, mercantile em p I oy- 
+mentswill draw capital from the improvement of land. Whatever, 
+therefore, raises the rate of mercantile profit, either lessens the 
+superiority, or increases the inferiority of the profit of improve- 
+ment: and, in theonecase, hinders capital from going to improve 
+merit, and in the other draws capital from it; but by discouraging 
+improvement, the monopoly necessarily retards the natural in- 
+crease of another great original sourceof revenue, therent of land. 
+By raising the rate of profit, too, the monopoly necessarily keeps 
+up the market rate of interest higher than it otherwise would be. 
+But the price of land, in proportion to the rent which it affords, 
+thenumber of years purchase which iscommonlypaidforit, nec- 
+essarily falls as the rate of interest rises, and rises as the rate of 
+
+
+
+interest falls. The monopoly, therefore, hurts the interest of the 
+landlord two different ways, by retarding the natural increase, first, 
+of his rent, and, secondly, of the price which he would get for his 
+land, in proportion to the rent which it affords. 
+
+The monopoly, indeed, raises the rate of mercantile profit and 
+thereby augments somewhat the gain of our merchants. But as it 
+obstructs the natural increase of capital, it tends rather to dimin- 
+ish than to increase thesum total of the revenue which theinhab- 
+itants of thecountry derive from theprofitsof stock; asmall profit 
+upon a great capital generally affording a greater revenue than a 
+great profit upon a small one. The monopoly raises the rate of 
+profit, but it hinders the sum of profit from rising so high as it 
+otherwise would do. 
+
+All theoriginal sources of revenue, the wages of labour, therent 
+of land, and the profits of stock, the monopoly renders much less 
+abundant than they otherwise would be. To promote the little 
+interest of one little order of men in one country, it hurts the 
+interest of all other orders of men in that country, and of all the 
+men in all other countries. 
+
+It is solely by raising the ordinary rate of profit, that the mo- 
+nopoly either has proved, or could prove, advantageous to any 
+one particular order of men. But besides all the bad effects to the 
+country in general, which have already been mentioned asneces- 
+
+
+
+496 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+sarily resulting from a higher rateof profit, there isone more fatal, 
+perhaps, than all these put together, but which, if we may judge 
+from experience, is inseparably connected with it. The high rate 
+of profit seems everywhere to destroy that parsimony which, in 
+other circumstances, is natural to the character of the merchant. 
+When profits are high, that sober virtue seems to be superfluous, 
+and expensive luxury to suit better the affluence of his situation. 
+But the owners of the great mercantile capitals are necessarily the 
+leaders and conductors of the wholeindustry of every nation; and 
+their example has a much greater influence upon the manners of 
+the whole industrious part of it than that of any other order of 
+men. If hisemployer isattentiveand parsimonious, the workman 
+is very likely to be so too; but if the master is dissolute and disor- 
+derly, the servant, who shapes his work according to the pattern 
+which hismaster prescribesto him, will shapehislife, too, accord- 
+ing to the example which he sets him. Accumulation is thus pre- 
+vented in the hands of all those who are naturally the most dis- 
+posed to accumulate; and thefundsdestined for the maintenance 
+of productive labour, receive no augmentation from the revenue 
+of those who ought naturally to augment them the most. The 
+capital of the country, instead of increasing, gradually dwindles 
+away, and the quantity of productivelabour maintained in itgrows 
+every day less and less. H ave the exorbitant profits of the mer- 
+
+
+
+chants of Cadiz and Lisbon augmented the capital of Spain and 
+Portugal? H ave they alleviated the poverty, have they promoted 
+the industry, of those two beggarly countries? Such has been the 
+tone of mercantile expense in those two trading cities, that those 
+exorbitant profits, far from augmenting the general capital of the 
+country, seem scarce to have been sufficient to keep up the capi- 
+tals upon which they were made. Foreign capitals are every day 
+intruding themselves, if I may say so, more and more into the 
+trade of Cadiz and Lisbon. It is to expel those foreign capitals 
+from a trade which their own grows every day more and more 
+insufficient for carrying on, that the Spaniards and Portuguese 
+endeavour every day to straiten more and more the galling bands 
+of their absurd monopoly. Compare the mercantile manners of 
+Cadiz and Lisbon with those of Amsterdam, and you will be sen- 
+sible how differently the conduct and character of merchants are 
+affected by the high and by the low profits of stock. The mer- 
+chants of London, indeed, have not yet generally become such 
+magnificent lords as those of Cadiz and Lisbon; but neither are 
+they in general such attetitiveand parsimonious burghersas those 
+of Amsterdam. They are supposed, however, many of them, to be 
+a good deal richer than the greater part of the former, and not 
+quire so rich as many of the latter: but the rate of their profit is 
+commonly much lower than that of the former, and a good deal 
+
+
+
+497 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+higher than that of the latter. Light come, light go, says the prov- 
+erb; and theordinarytoneof expense seems everywhere to be regu- 
+lated, not so much according to the real ability of spending, as to 
+the supposed facility of getting money to spend. 
+
+It is thus that the single advantage which the monopoly pro- 
+cures to a singleorder of men, isin many different ways hurtful to 
+the general interest of the country. 
+
+To found a great empire for the sole purpose of raising up a 
+people of customers, may at first sight, appear a project fit only 
+for a nation of shopkeepers. It is, however, a project altogether 
+unfit for a nation of shopkeepers, but extremely fit for a nation 
+whose government isinfluenced by shopkeepers. Such statesmen, 
+and such statesmen only, are capable of fancying that they will 
+find some advantage in em ploying the blood and treasure of their 
+fellow-citizens, to found and maintain such an empire. Say to a 
+shopkeeper, Buy meagood estate, and I shall alwaysbuymyclothes 
+at your shop, even though I should pay somewhat dearer than 
+what I can have them for at other shops; and you will not find 
+him very forward to em brace your proposal. But should any other 
+person buy you such an estate, the shopkeeper will bemuch obliged 
+to your benefactor if he would enjoin you to buy all your clothes 
+at hisshop. England purchased for someof her subjects, who found 
+themselves uneasy at home, a great estate in a distant country. T he 
+
+
+
+price, indeed, was very small, and instead of thirty years purchase, 
+the ordinary price of land in the present times, it amounted to 
+little more than the expense of the different equipments which 
+made the first discovery, reconnoitered thecoast, and took aficti- 
+tious possession of the country. T he land was good, and of great 
+extent; and the cultivators having plenty of good ground to work 
+upon, and being for some time at liberty to sell their produce 
+where they pleased, became, in thecourseof littlemore than thirty 
+or forty years (between 1620 and 1660), so numerous and thriv- 
+ing a people, that the shopkeepers and other traders of England 
+wished to secure to themselves the monopoly of their custom. 
+W ithout pretending, therefore, that they had paid any part, either 
+of the original purchase money, or of the subsequent expense of 
+improvement, they petitioned the parliament, that the cultivators 
+of America might for the future be confined to their shop; first, 
+for buying all the goods which they wanted from Europe; and, 
+secondly, for selling all such parts of their own produce as those 
+traders might find it convenient to buy. For they did not find it 
+convenient to buy every part of it. Some parts of it imported into 
+England, might have interfered with some of the trades which 
+they themselves carried on at home. T hose particular parts of it, 
+therefore, they were willing that the colonists should sell where 
+they could; thefarther off the better; and upon that account pro- 
+
+
+
+498 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+posed that their market should be confined to the countries south 
+of CapeFinisterre. A clausein thefamousact of navigation estab- 
+lished this truly shopkeeper proposal into a law. 
+
+T he maintenance of this monopoly has hitherto been the prin- 
+cipal, or more properly perhaps, the sole end and purpose of the 
+dominion which Great Britain assumes over her colonies. In the 
+exclusive trade, itissupposed, consiststhegreatadvantageof prov- 
+inces, which have never yet afforded either revenue or military 
+forceforthesupportof thecivil government, or the defence of the 
+mother country. The monopoly is the principal badge of their 
+dependency, and it is the sole fruit which has hitherto been gath- 
+ered from that dependency. W hatever expense Great Britain has 
+hitherto laid out in maintaining this dependency, has really been 
+laid out in order to support this monopoly. The expense of the 
+ordinary peace establishment of the colonies amounted, before 
+thecommencement of the present disturbances to the pay of twenty 
+regiments of foot; to the expense of the artillery, stores, and ex- 
+traordinary provisions, with which it wasnecessary to supply them; 
+and to the expense of a very considerable naval force, which was 
+constantly kept up, in order to guard from the smuggling vessels 
+of other nations, the immense coast of N orth America, and that 
+of ourWest Indian islands. T he wholeexpenseof thispeace estab- 
+lishment was a charge upon therevenueof Great Britain, and was, 
+
+
+
+at the same time, the smallest part of what the dominion of the 
+colonieshascostthemother country. If we would know theamount 
+of the whole, we must add to the annual expense of this peace 
+establishment, the interest of the sums which, in consequence of 
+their considering her colonies as provinces subject to her domin- 
+ion, Great Britain has, upon different occasions, laid out upon 
+their defence. Wemust add to it, in particular, the whole expense 
+of the late war, and a great part of that of the war which preceded 
+it. The late war was altogether a colony quarrel; and the whole 
+expense of it, in whatever part of the world it might have been laid 
+out, whether in G ermany or the East I ndies, ought justly to be 
+stated to the account of the colonies. It amounted to more than 
+ninety millions sterling, including not only the new debt which 
+wascontracted, butthetwoshillingsin thepound additional land 
+tax, and thesums which were every year borrowed from thesink- 
+ingfund.TheSpanish war which began in 1739 was principally a 
+colony quarrd. Its principal object was to prevent the search of 
+the colony ships, which carried on a contraband trade with the 
+Spanish Main. This whole expense is, in reality, a bounty which 
+has been given in order to support a monopoly. The pretended 
+purpose of it was to encourage the manufactures, and to increase 
+the commerce of Great Britain. But its real effect has been to raise 
+the rate of mercantile profit, and to enable our merchants to turn 
+
+
+
+499 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+into a branch of trade, of which the returns are more slow and 
+distant than those of the greater part of other trades, a greater 
+proportion of their capital than they otherwise would have done; 
+two events which, if a bounty could have prevented, it might per- 
+haps have been very well worth while to give such a bounty. 
+
+U nder the present system of management, therefore, G reat Brit- 
+ain derives nothing but loss from the dominion which she as- 
+sumes over her colonies. 
+
+To propose that Great Britain should voluntarily give up all au- 
+thority over her colonies, and leave them to elect their own magis- 
+trates, to enact their own laws, and to make peace and war, as they 
+might think proper, would be to propose such a measure as never 
+was, and never will be, adopted by any nation in the world. No 
+nation ever voluntarily gave up the dominion of any province, 
+how troublesome soever it might be to govern it, and how small 
+soever the revenue which it afforded might be in proportion to 
+theexpense which it occasioned. Such sacrifices, though they might 
+frequently be agreeable to the interest, are always mortifying to 
+the pride of every nation; and, what is perhaps of still greater con- 
+sequence, they are always contrary to the private interest of the 
+governing part of it, who would thereby be deprived of the dis- 
+posal of many places of trust and profit, of many opportunities of 
+acquiring wealth and distinction, which thepossession of themost 
+
+
+
+turbulent, and, to the great body of the people, themost unprof- 
+itable province, seldom failsto afford. Themost visionary enthu- 
+siasts would scarce be capable of proposing such a measure, with 
+any serioushopes at least of its ever being adopted. I f it was adopted, 
+however, Great Britain would not only be immediately freed from 
+the whole annual expense of the peace establishment of the colo- 
+nies, but might settle with them such a treaty of commerce as 
+would effectually secure to her a free trade, more advantageous to 
+the great body of the people, though less so to the merchants, 
+than the monopoly which she at present enjoys. By thus parting 
+good friends, the natural affection of the colonies to the mother 
+country, which, perhaps, our late dissensions have well nigh ex- 
+tinguished, would quickly revive. It might dispose them not only 
+to respect, for whole centuries together, that treaty of commerce 
+which they had concluded with us at parting, but to favour us in 
+war as well as in trade, and instead of turbulent and factious sub- 
+jects, to become our most faithful, affectionate, and generous al- 
+lies; and the same sort of parental affection on the one side, and 
+filial respect on theother, might revive between Great Britain and 
+her colonies, which used to subsist between thoseof ancient G reece 
+and the mother city from which they descended. 
+
+In order to render any province advantageous to the empire to 
+which it belongs, it ought to afford, in ti me of peace, a revenue to 
+
+
+
+500 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+the public, sufficient not only for defraying the whole expense of 
+its own peace establishment, but for contributing its proportion 
+to the support of the general government of the empire. Every 
+province necessarily contributes, more or less, to in crease the ex- 
+pense of that general government. If any particular province, there 
+fore, does not contribute its share towards defraying this expense, 
+an unequal burden must be thrown upon some other part of the 
+empire. The extraordinary revenue, too, which every province af- 
+fords to the public in time of war, ought, from parity of reason, to 
+bear thesameproportion to theextraordinaryrevenueof the whole 
+empire, which its ordinary revenue does in time of peace. That 
+neither theordinary nor extraordinary revenue which Great Brit- 
+ain derives from her colonies, bears this proportion to the whole 
+revenue of the British empire, will readily be allowed. The mo- 
+nopoly, it has been supposed, indeed, by increasing the private 
+revenueofthepeopleof Great Britain, and thereby en ablingthem 
+to pay greater taxes, compensates thedeficiency of thepublic rev- 
+enue of the colonies. But this monopoly, I have endeavoured to 
+show, though a very grievous tax upon thecolonies, and though it 
+may increase the revenue of a particular order of men in Great 
+Britain, diminishes, instead of increasing, that of the great body 
+of thepeople, and consequently diminishes, instead of increasing, 
+the ability of the great body of the people to pay taxes. T he men, 
+
+
+
+too, whose revenue the monopoly increases, constitute a particu- 
+lar order, which it is both absolutely impossibleto tax beyond the 
+proportion of other orders, and extremely impolitic even to at- 
+tempt to tax beyond that proportion, as I shall endeavour to show 
+in the following book. No particular resource, therefore, can be 
+drawn from this particular order. 
+
+The colonies may be taxed either bytheirown assemblies, or by 
+the parliament of G reat Britain. 
+
+That the colony assemblies can never be so managed as to levy 
+upon their constituents a public revenue, sufficient, not only to 
+maintain at all times their own civil and military establishment, 
+but to pay their proper proportion of the expense of the general 
+government of the British empire, seems not very probable. 1 1 was 
+alongtimebeforeeventheparliamentof England, though placed 
+immediately under theeyeofthesovereign, could bebrought under 
+such a system of management, or could be rendered sufficiently 
+liberal in their grants for supporting the civil and military estab- 
+lishments even of their own country. It was only by distributing 
+among the particular membersof parliament a great part either of 
+the offices, or of the disposal of the offices arising from this civil 
+and military establishment, that such a system of management 
+could be established, even with regard to the parliament of En- 
+gland. But the distance of the colony assemblies from the eye of 
+
+
+
+501 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+the sovereign, their number, their dispersed situation, and their 
+various constitutions, would render it very difficult to manage 
+them in thesame manner, even though thesovereign had thesame 
+meansofdoingit;andthosemeansarewanting. It would be abso- 
+lutely impossible to distribute among all the leading members of 
+all the colony assemblies such a share, either of the offices, or of 
+thedisposal of theoffices, arisingfrom thegeneral government of 
+the British empire, as to dispose them to giveup their popularity 
+at home, and to tax their constituents for thesupport of that gen- 
+eral government, of which almost the whole emoluments were to 
+be divided among people who were strangers to them. T he un- 
+avoidable ignorance of administration, besides, concerning the 
+relative importance of the different members of those different 
+assemblies, theoffences which must frequently begiven, theblun- 
+ders which must constantly be committed, in attempting to man- 
+age them in this manner, seems to render such a system of man- 
+agement altogether impracticable with regard to them. 
+
+T he colony assemblies, besides, cannot be supposed the proper 
+judges of what is necessary for the defence and support of the 
+whole empire. The care of that defence and support is not en- 
+trusted to them. It is not their business, and they have no regular 
+means of information concerning it. The assembly of a province, 
+I ike the vestry of a pari sh,mayjudge very properly concerning the 
+
+
+
+affairs of its own particular district, but can have no proper means 
+of judging concerning those of the whole empire. It cannot even 
+judgeproperly concerningtheproportion which its own province 
+bears to the whole empire, or concerning the relative degree of its 
+wealth and importance, compared with the other provinces; be- 
+cause those other provinces are not under the inspection and su- 
+perintendency of the assembly of a particular province. W hat is 
+necessary for the defence and support of thewholeempire, and in 
+what proportion each part ought to contribute, can bejudged of 
+only by that assembly which inspects and super- in tends the affairs 
+of thewholeempire. 
+
+It has been proposed, accordingly, that the colonies should be 
+taxed by requisition, the parliament of Great Britain determining 
+the sum which each colony ought to pay, and the provincial as- 
+sembly assessing and levying it in the way that suited best the 
+circumstances of the province. What concerned thewholeempire 
+would in this way be determined by the assembly which inspects 
+and superintends the affairs of thewholeempire; and theprovin- 
+cial affairs of each colony might still be regulated by its own as- 
+sembly. Though the colonies should, in this case, have no repre- 
+sentatives in the British parliament, yet, if we may judge by expe- 
+rience, there is no probability that the parliamentary requisition 
+would be unreasonable. The parliament of England hasnot, upon 
+
+
+
+502 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+any occasion, shewn the smallest disposition to overburden those 
+parts of the empire which are not represented in parliament. The 
+islandsof G uernsey and Jersey, without any meansof resisting the 
+authority of parliament, are more lightly taxed than any part of 
+Great Britain. Parliament, in attempting to exercise its supposed 
+right, whether well or ill grounded, of taxing the colonies, has 
+never hitherto demanded of them anything which even approached 
+to a just proportion to what was paid by their fellow subjects at 
+home. If the contribution of the colonies, besides, was to rise or 
+fall in proportion to the rise or fall of the land-tax, parliament 
+could not tax them without taxing, atthesametime, its own con- 
+stituents, and the colonies might, in this case, be considered as 
+virtually represented in parliament. 
+
+Examples are not wanting of empires in which all the different 
+provinces are not taxed, if I may be allowed the expression, in one 
+mass; but in which the sovereign regulates the sum which each 
+province ought to pay, and in some provinces assesses and leviesit 
+as hethinks proper; while in others he leaves it to be assessed and 
+levied as the respective states of each province shall determine. In 
+some provinces of France, the king not only imposes what taxes 
+he thinks proper, but assesses and levies them in the way hethinks 
+proper. From others hedemandsa certain sum, but leaves it to the 
+states of each province to assess and levy that sum as they think 
+
+
+
+proper. According to the schemeof taxing by requisition, the par- 
+liament of Great Britain would stand nearly in the same situation 
+towards the colony assemblies, as the king of France does towards 
+thestates of those provinces which still enjoy the privilegeof hav- 
+ing states of their own, the provinces of France which are sup- 
+posed to be the best governed. 
+
+But though, according to this scheme, the colonies could have 
+no just reason to fear that their share of the public burdensshould 
+ever exceed the proper proportion to that of their fellow- citizens 
+at home, Great Britain might havejust reason to fear that it never 
+would amount to that proper proportion. T heparliament of G reat 
+Britain has not, for some time past, had the same established au- 
+thority in the colonies, which the French king has in those prov- 
+inces of France which still enjoy the privilege of having states of 
+their own. Thecolony assemblies, if they were not very favourably 
+disposed (and unless more skilfully managed than they ever have 
+been hitherto, they are not very likely to be so), might still find 
+many pretences for evading or rejecting the most reasonable req- 
+uisitions of parliament. A French war breaks out, we shall sup- 
+pose; ten millions must immediately be raised, in order to defend 
+theseatoftheempireThissum must be borrowed upon thecredit 
+of some parliamentary fund mortgaged for paying the interest. 
+Part of this fund parliament proposes to raise by a tax to be levied 
+
+
+
+503 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+in Great Britain; and part of it by a requisition to all the different 
+colony assemblies of America and theWest Indies. Would people 
+readily advance theirmoneyuponthecredit of afund which partly 
+depended upon the good humour of all those assemblies, far dis- 
+tant from the seat of the war, and sometimes, perhaps, thinking 
+themselves not much concerned in the event of it? U pon such a 
+fund, no more money would probably be advanced than what the 
+taxtobelevied in Great Britain might be supposed to answer for. 
+T he whole burden of the debt contracted on account of the war 
+would in this manner fall, as it always has done hitherto, upon 
+Great Britain; upon a part of the empire, and not upon the whole 
+empire. Great Britain is, perhaps, since theworld began, theonly 
+state which, as it has extended its empire, has only increased its 
+expense, without onceaugmenting its resources. Other stateshave 
+generally disburdened themselves, upon their subject and subor- 
+dinate provinces, of the most considerable part of the expense of 
+defending theempire. Great Britain has hitherto suffered her sub- 
+ject and subordinate provinces to disburden themselves upon her 
+of almost this wholeexpense. In order to put Great Britain upon a 
+footing of equality with her own colonies, which the law has hith- 
+erto supposed to be subject and subordinate, it seems necessary, 
+upon the scheme of taxing them by parliamentary requisition, 
+that parliament should have some means of rendering its requisi- 
+
+
+
+tions immediately effectual, in case the colony assemblies should 
+attempt to evade or reject them; and what those means are, it is 
+not very easy to conceive, and it has not yet been explained. 
+
+Should the parliament of Great Britain, at the same time, be 
+ever fully established in the right of taxing the colonies, even inde- 
+pendent of theconsent of theirown assemblies, theimportance of 
+those assemblies would, from that moment, be at an end, and 
+with it, that of all the leading men of British America. Men desire 
+to have somesharein themanagement of public affairs, chiefly on 
+account of the importance which it gives them. U pon the power 
+which the greater part of the leading men, the natural aristocracy 
+of every country, have of preserving or defending their respective 
+importance, dependsthestability and duration of every system of 
+free government. In theattacks which thoseleading men are con- 
+tinually making upon the importance of one another, and in the 
+defence of their own, consists the whole play of domestic faction 
+and ambition. The leading men of America, likethoseof all other 
+countries, desire to preserve their own importance. They feel, or 
+imagine, that if their assemblies, which they are fond of calling 
+parliaments, and of considering as equal in authority to the par- 
+liament of Great Britain, should be so far degraded as to become 
+the humble ministers and executive officers of that parliament, 
+thegreater part of their own importance would be at an end. They 
+
+
+
+504 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+have rejected, therefore, theproposal of beingtaxed by parliamen- 
+tary requisition, and, likeother ambitiousand high-spirited men, 
+have rather chosen to draw the sword in defence of their own 
+importance. 
+
+Towards the declension of the Roman republic, the allies of 
+Rome, who had bornetheprincipal burden of defending thestate 
+and extending the empire, demanded to be admitted to all the 
+privileges of Roman citizens. Upon being refused, the social war 
+broke out. During the course of that war, Rome granted those 
+privileges to the greater part of them, onebyone, and in propor- 
+tion as they detached themselves from the general confederacy. 
+T he parliament of G reat Britain insists upon taxing the colonies; 
+and they refuse to be taxed by a parliament in which they are not 
+represented. If to each colony which should detach itself from the 
+general confederacy, Great Britain should allow such a number of 
+representatives as suited the proportion of what it contributed to 
+the public revenueoftheempire, in consequenceof its being sub- 
+jected to the same taxes, and in compensation admitted to the 
+samefreedom of tradewith its fellow-subjects at home; thenum- 
+ber of its representatives to be augmented as the proportion of its 
+contribution might afterwards augment; a new method of acquir- 
+ing importance, a new and moredazzling object of ambition, would 
+be presented to the leading men of each colony. Instead of pid- 
+
+
+
+dling for the little prizes which are to be found in what may be 
+called the paltry raffle of colony faction, they might then hope, 
+from the presumption which men naturally have in their own 
+ability and good fortune, to draw some of the great prizes which 
+sometimes come from the wheel of the great state lottery of Brit- 
+ish politics. Unless this or some other method is fallen upon, and 
+there seems to be none more obvious than this, of preserving the 
+importance and of gratifying the ambition of the leading men of 
+America, it is not very probable that they will ever voluntarily 
+submit to us; and we ought to consider, that the blood which 
+must be shed in forcing them to do so, is, every drop of it, the 
+blood either of those who are, or of those whom we wish to have 
+for our fellow citizens. T hey are very weak who flatter themselves 
+that, in thestate to which things have come, our colonies will be 
+easily conquered by force alone. T he persons who now govern the 
+resolutions of what they call their continental congress, feel in 
+themselves at this moment a degree of importance which, per- 
+haps, the greatest subjects in Europe scarce feel. From shopkeep- 
+ers, trades men, and attorneys, they are become statesmen and 
+legislators, and areemployed in contriving a new form of govern- 
+ment for an extensive empire, which, they flatter themselves, will 
+become, and which, indeed, seems very likely to become, one of 
+the greatest and most formidable that ever was in the world. Five 
+
+
+
+505 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+hundred different people, perhaps, who, in different ways, act 
+immediately under the continental congress, and five hundred 
+thousand, perhaps, who act under those five hundred, all feel, in 
+the same manner, a proportionable rise in their own importance. 
+Almost every individual of thegoverning party in America fills, at 
+present, in his own fancy, a station superior, not only to what he 
+had ever filled before, but to what he had ever expected to fill; and 
+unless some new object of ambition is presented either to him or 
+to his leaders, if he has the ordinary spirit of a man, he will die in 
+defence of that station. 
+
+It is a remark of the President Heynaut, that we now read with 
+pleasure theaccount of many littletransactionsoftheLigue, which, 
+when they happened, were not, perhaps, considered as very im- 
+portant pieces of news. Buteveryman then, says he, fancied him- 
+self of some importance; and the innumerable memoirs which 
+have come down to us from those times, were the greater part of 
+them written by people who took pleasure in recording and mag- 
+nifying events, in which they flattered themselves they had been 
+considerable actors. H ow obstinately the city of Paris, upon that 
+occasion, defended itself, what a dreadful famine it supported, 
+rather than submit to the best, and after wards the most beloved of 
+all the French kings, is well known. The greater part of the citi- 
+zens, or those who governed the greater part of them, fought in 
+
+
+
+defence of their own importance, which, they foresaw, was to be 
+at an end whenever the ancient government should be re-estab- 
+lished. Our colonies, unless they can be induced to consent to a 
+union, are very likely to defend themselves, against the best of all 
+mother countries, as obstinatelyasthecity of Parisdid against one 
+of the best of kings. 
+
+Theidea of representation wasunknown in ancient times. When 
+thepeopleof onestate were admitted to theright of citizen ship in 
+another, they had no other means of exercising that right, but by 
+coming in a body to vote and deliberate with the people of that 
+other state. Theadmission of thegreater part of the inhabitants of 
+Italy to the privileges of Roman citizens, completely ruined the 
+Roman republic. It was no longer possibleto distinguish between 
+who was, and who wasnot, a Roman citizen. N o tribe could know 
+its own members. A rabble of any kind could be introduced into 
+the assemblies of the people, could drive out the real citizens, and 
+decide upon the affairs of the republic, as if they themselves had 
+been such. But though America were to send fifty or sixty new 
+representatives to parliament, the door-keeper of thehouseof com- 
+monscould not find any great difficulty in distinguishing between 
+who was and who was not a member. Though the Roman consti- 
+tution, therefore, was necessarily ruined by the union of Rome 
+with theallied statesof Italy, there is not the least probability that 
+
+
+
+506 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+the British constitution would be hurt by the union of Great Brit- 
+ain with her colonies. That constitution, on the contrary, would 
+be completed by it, and seems to be imperfect without it. The 
+assembly which deliberates and decides concerning the affairs of 
+every part of the empire, in order to be properly informed, ought 
+certainly to have representatives from every part of it. That this 
+union, however, could be easily effectuated, or that difficulties, 
+and great difficulties, might not occur in the execution, I do not 
+pretend. I have yet heard of none, however, which appear insur- 
+mountable. The principal, perhaps, arise, not from the nature of 
+things, but from the prejudices and opinions of the people, both 
+on this and on the other side of the Atlantic. 
+
+We on this side the water are afraid lest themultitudeof Ameri- 
+can representatives should overturn the balance of the constitu- 
+tion, and in crease too much either the influence of the crown on 
+the one hand, or the force of the democracy on the other. But if 
+the number of American representatives were to be in proportion 
+to the produce of American taxation, the number of peopleto be 
+managed would increase exactly in proportion to the means of 
+managing them, and the means of managing to the number of 
+peopleto be managed. The monarchical and democratical parts 
+of the constitution would, after the union, stand exactly in the 
+same degree of relative force with regard to one another as they 
+
+
+
+had done before. 
+
+The people on the other side of the water are afraid lest their 
+distance from theseat of government might expose them to many 
+oppressions; but their representatives in parliament, of which the 
+number ought from the first to be considerable, would easily be 
+ableto protect them from all oppression. The distance could not 
+much weaken the dependency of therepresentativeupon thecon- 
+stituent, and the former would still feel that he owed his seat in 
+parliament, and all the consequence which he derived from it, to 
+thegood-will of thelatter. It would be the interest of the former, 
+therefore, to cultivate that good-will, by complaining, with all the 
+authority of a member of the legislature, of every outrage which 
+any civil or military officer might be guilty of in those remote 
+parts of the empire. The distance of America from the seat of 
+government, besides, thenatives of that country mightfl after them- 
+selves, with some appearance of reason too, would not be of very 
+long continuance. Such has hitherto been the rapid progress of 
+that country in wealth, population, and improvement, that in the 
+course of little more than a century, perhaps, the produce of the 
+American might exceed that of the British taxation. The seat of 
+the empire would then naturally remove itself to that part of the 
+empire which contributed most to the general defence and sup- 
+port of the whole. 
+
+
+
+507 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+The discovery of America, and that of a passage to the East 
+Indies by the Cape of Good Hope, are the two greatest and most 
+important events recorded in the history of mankind. Their con- 
+sequences have already been great; but, in the short period of be- 
+tween two and three centuries which has elapsed since these dis- 
+coveries were made, it is impossiblethat the whole extent of their 
+consequences can have been seen. What benefits or what misfor- 
+tunes to mankind may hereafter result from those great events, no 
+human wisdom can foresee. By uniting in some measure the most 
+distant parts of the world, by en ablingthem to relieve one an other's 
+wants, to increase one another's enjoyments, and to encourage 
+one another's industry, their general tendency would seem to be 
+beneficial. To the natives, however, both of the East and West 
+Indies, all the commercial benefits which can have resulted from 
+those events have been sunk and lost in the dreadful misfortunes 
+which they have occasioned. Thesemisfortunes, however, seem to 
+have arisen rather from accident than from any thing in the na- 
+tureof those events them selves. Atthe particular time when these 
+discoveries were made, the superiority of force happened to be so 
+great on thesideof the Europeans, that they were enabled to com- 
+mit with impunity every sort of injustice in those remote coun- 
+tries. H ereafter, perhaps, the natives of those countries may grow 
+stronger, or those of Europe may grow weaker; and the inhabit- 
+
+
+
+ants of all the different quarters of the world may arrive at that 
+equality of courage and force which, by inspiring mutual fear, can 
+alone overawe the injustice of independent nations into some sort 
+of respect for the rights of one another. But nothing seems more 
+likely to establish this equality of force, than that mutual commu- 
+nication of knowledge, and of all sorts of improvements, which 
+an extensive commerce from all countries to all countries natu- 
+rally, or rather necessarily, carries along with it. 
+
+In themean time, oneof the principal effects of those discover- 
+ieshas been, to raise themercantilesystem to adegreeof splendour 
+and glory which it could never otherwisehave attained to. Itisthe 
+object of that system to enrich a great nation, rather by trade and 
+manufactures than by the improvement and cultivation of land, 
+rather by the industry of the towns than by that of the country. 
+But in consequenceof those discoveries, thecommercial townsof 
+Europe, instead of being the man ufacturers and carriersfor but a 
+very small part of the world (that part of Europe which iswashed 
+by the Atlantic ocean, and the countries which lieround the Bal- 
+tic and M editerranean seas), havenow becomethe manufacturers 
+for the numerous and thriving cultivators of America, and the 
+carriers, and in some respects the manufacturers too, for almost 
+all the different nations of Asia, Africa, and America. Two new 
+worlds have been opened to their industry, each of them much 
+
+
+
+508 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+greater and more extensive than the old one, and the market of 
+one of them growing still greater and greater every day. 
+
+Thecountries which possess thecolonies of America, and which 
+tradedirectly to the East Indies, enjoy indeed the whole show and 
+splendour of this great commerce. Other countries, however, not- 
+withstanding all the invidious restraints by which it is meant to 
+exclude them, frequently enjoy a greater share of the real benefit 
+of it. The colonies of Spain and. Portugal, for example, give more 
+real encouragement to theindustry of other countries than to that 
+of Spain and Portugal. In thesingleartideof linen alone, thecon- 
+sumption of those colonies amounts, it is said (but I do not pre- 
+tend to warrant the quantity ), to more than three millions ster- 
+linga-year. But this great consumption is almost entirely supplied 
+by France, Flanders, H olland, and Germany. Spain and Portugal 
+furnish but a small part of it. The capital which supplies thecolo- 
+nies with thisgreat quantity of linen, isannually distributed among, 
+and furnishes a revenue to, the inhabitants of those other coun- 
+tries. The profits of it only are spent in Spain and Portugal, where 
+they help to support the sumptuous profusion of the merchants 
+of Cadiz and Lisbon. 
+
+Even the regulations by which each nation endeavours to secure 
+to itself the exclusive trade of its own colonies, arefrequently more 
+hurtful to the countries in favour of which they are established, 
+
+
+
+than to those against which they are established. The unjust op- 
+pression of the industry of other countries falls back, if I may say 
+so, upon the heads of the oppressors, and crushes their industry 
+more than it does that of those other countries. By those regula- 
+tions, for example, the merchant of H amburg must send thelinen 
+which he destines for the American market to London, and he 
+must bring back from thence the tobacco which he destines for 
+the German market; because he can neither send the one directly 
+to America, nor bring the other directly from thence. By this re- 
+straint he is probably obliged to sell the one somewhat cheaper, 
+and to buy the other somewhat dearer, than he otherwise might 
+have done; and his profits are probably somewhat abridged by 
+means of it. In this trade, however, between H amburg and Lon- 
+don, he certainly receives the returns of his capital much more 
+quickly than he could possibly have done in the direct trade to 
+America, even though we should suppose, what is by no means 
+the case, that the payments of America were as punctual as those 
+of London. In thetrade, therefore, to which those regulations con- 
+fine the merchant of H amburg, his capital can keep in constant 
+employment a much greater quantity of German industry than he 
+possibly could havedonein thetradefrom which heisexduded. 
+Though the one employment, therefore, may to him perhaps be 
+less profitable than theother, it cannot be less advantageous to his 
+
+
+
+509 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+country. It isquite otherwise with theemployment into which the 
+monopoly naturally attracts, if I may say so, the capital of the 
+London merchant. That employment may, perhaps, bemoreprof- 
+itableto him than the greater part of other employments; but on 
+account of the slowness of the returns, it cannot be more advanta- 
+geous to his country. 
+
+After all the unjust attempts, therefore, of every country in Eu- 
+rope to engross to itself the whole advantage of the trade of its 
+own colonies, no country has yet been able to en gross to itself any 
+thing but the expense of supporting in time of peace, and of de- 
+fending in time of war, theoppressive authority which it assumes 
+over them. The inconveniencies resulting from the possession of 
+its colonies, every country has engrossed to itself completely. The 
+advantages resulting from their trade, it has been obliged to share 
+with many other countries. 
+
+Atfirst sight, no doubt, themonopoly of the great commerce of 
+America naturally seemsto bean acquisition of the highest value. 
+To the undiscerning eye of giddy ambition it naturally presents 
+itself, amidst the confused scramble of politics and war, as a very 
+dazzling object to fight for. T he dazzling splendour of the object, 
+however, the immense greatness of thecommerce, isthevery quality 
+which renders the monopoly of it hurtful, or which makes one 
+employment, in its own nature necessarily less advantageous to 
+
+
+
+the country than the greater part of other employments, absorb a 
+much greater proportion of the capital of the country than what 
+would otherwise have gone to it. 
+
+The mercantile stock of every country, it has been shown in the 
+second book, naturally seeks, if one may say so, the employment 
+most advantageous to that country. If it is employed in thecarry- 
+ing trade, thecountry to which it belongs becomes theemporium 
+of the goods of all the countries whose trade that stock carries on. 
+But the owner of that stock necessarily wishes to dispose of as 
+great a part of those goods as he can at home. H e thereby saves 
+himself the trouble, risk, and expense of exportation; and he will 
+upon that account be glad to sell them at home, not only for a 
+much smaller price, but with somewhat a smaller profit, than he 
+might expect to makeby sending them abroad. H enaturally, there- 
+fore, endeavours as much ashecan to turn hiscarrying trade into 
+a foreign trade of consumption, If hisstock, again, isemployed in 
+a foreign trade of consumption, he will, for the same reason, be 
+glad to dispose of, at home, as great a part as he can of the home 
+goods which he collects in order to export to some foreign mar- 
+ket, and he will thus endeavour, as much as he can, to turn his 
+foreign trade of consumption into a home trade. The mercantile 
+stock of every country naturally courts in this manner the near, 
+and shuns the distant employment: naturally courts the employ- 
+
+
+
+510 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+merit in which the returns are frequent, and shuns that in which 
+they are distant and slow; naturally courtstheemployment in which 
+it can maintain the greatest quantity of productive labour in the 
+country to which it belongs, or in which its owner resides, and 
+shunsthatin which it can maintain there thesmallest quantity. It 
+naturally courtstheemployment which in ordinary cases is most 
+advantageous, and shuns that which in ordinary cases is least ad- 
+vantageous to that country. 
+
+But if, in any one of those distant employments, which in ordi- 
+nary cases are less advantageous to the country, the profit should 
+happen to rise somewhat higher than what is sufficient to balance 
+the natural preference which is given to nearer employments, this 
+superiority of profit will draw stock from those nearer employ- 
+ments, till the profits of all return to their proper level. This supe- 
+riority of profit, however, is a proof that, in the actual circum- 
+stances of the society, those distant employments are somewhat 
+understocked in proportion to other employments, and that the 
+stock of the society is not distributed in the properest manner 
+among all thedifferent employments carried on in it. It isa proof 
+that something is either bought cheaper or sold dearer than it 
+ought to be, and that some particular class of citizens is more or 
+less oppressed, either by paying more, or by getting less than what 
+is suitable to that equality which ought to take place, and which 
+
+
+
+naturally does take place, amongall thedifferent classes of them. 
+Though the same capital never will maintain the same quantity of 
+productive labour in a distant as in a near employment, yet a dis- 
+tant employment maybe asnecessary for the welfare of the society 
+as a near one; the goods which the distant employment deals in 
+being necessary, perhaps, for carrying on many of the nearer em- 
+ployments. But if the profits of those who deal in such goods are 
+above their proper level, those goods will be sold dearer than they 
+ought to be, or somewhat above their natural price, and all those 
+engaged in thenearer employments will be more or less oppressed 
+by this high price. Their interest, therefore, in this case, requires, 
+that some stock should be withdrawn from those nearer employ- 
+ments, and turned towardsthat distant one, in order to reduce its 
+profits to their proper level, and the price of the goods which it 
+deals in to their natural price. In this extraordinary case, the pub- 
+lic interest requires that some stock should be withdrawn from 
+those employments which, in ordinary cases, are more advanta- 
+geous, and turned towards one which, in ordinary cases, is less 
+advantageous to the public; and, in this extraordinary case, the 
+natural interests and inclinations of men coincide as exactly with 
+thepublic interestsasin all other ordinary cases, and lead them to 
+withdraw stock from the near, and to turn it towards the distant 
+employments. 
+
+
+
+511 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+It is thus that the private interests and passions of individuals 
+naturally dispose them to turn their stock towards the employ- 
+ments which in ordinary cases, are most advantageoustothesoci- 
+ety. Butiffromthisnatural preference they should turn too much 
+of it towards those employments, the fall of profit in them, and 
+the rise of it in all others, immediately dispose them to alter this 
+faulty distribution. Without any intervention of law, therefore, 
+the private interests and passions of men naturally lead them to 
+divideand distribute the stock of every society among all the dif- 
+ferent employments carried on in it; as nearly as possible in the 
+proportion which is most agreeable to the interest of the whole 
+society. 
+
+A 1 1 the different regu lati ons of the mercanti le system necessari ly 
+derangemoreorlessthisnatural and mostadvantageousdistribu- 
+tion of stock. But those which concern the trade to America and 
+the East I ndies derange it, perhaps, more than any other; because 
+the trade to those two great continents absorbs a greater quantity 
+of stock than any two other branches of trade. The regulations, 
+however, by which this derangement is effected in those two dif- 
+ferent branches of trade, are not altogether the same. M onopoly is 
+the great engine of both; but it is a different sort of monopoly. 
+M onopoly of one kind or another, indeed, seems to be the sole 
+engine of the mercantile system. 
+
+
+
+In the trade to America, every nation endeavours to engross as 
+much as possible the whole market of its own colonies, by fairly 
+excluding all other nationsfrom any direct tradeto them. During 
+the greater part of the sixteenth century, the Portuguese endeav- 
+oured to manage thetradeto the East I ndies in thesame manner, 
+by claiming thesole right of sailing in the Indian seas, on account 
+of the merit of having first found out theroad to them. T he D utch 
+still continue to exclude all other European nationsfrom any di- 
+rect tradeto their spice islands. M onopolies of this kind are evi- 
+dently established against all other European nations, who are 
+thereby not only excluded from a tradeto which it might be con- 
+venient for them to turn some part of their stock, but are obliged 
+to buy thegoodswhich that tradedealsin, somewhat dearer than 
+if they could import them themselves directly from the countries 
+which produced them. 
+
+But since thefall of the power of Portugal, no European nation 
+has claimed the exclusive right of sailing in the Indian seas, of 
+which the principal ports are now open to the ships of all Euro- 
+pean nations. Except in Portugal, however, and within these few 
+yearsin France, thetradeto theEast I ndieshas, in every European 
+country, been subjected to an exclusive company. M onopolies of 
+this kind are properly established against the very nation which 
+erects them. T he greater part of that nation are thereby not only 
+
+
+
+512 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+excluded from a trade to which it might be convenient for them 
+to turn some part of their stock, but are obliged to buy the goods 
+which that trade deals i n somewhat dearer than if it was open and 
+free to all their countrymen. Since the establishment of the En- 
+glish East India company, for example, the other inhabitants of 
+England, over and above being excluded from the trade, must 
+have paid, in the price of the East India goods which they have 
+consumed, not only for all the extraordinary profits which the 
+company may have made upon those goods in consequence of 
+their monopoly, but for all theextraordinary waste which thefraud 
+and abuse inseparable from the management of the affairs of so 
+great a company must necessarily have occasioned. The absurdity 
+of this second kind of monopoly, therefore, is much more mani- 
+fest than that of the first. 
+
+Both these kindsof monopolies derange more or less the natu- 
+ral distribution of the stock of the society; but they do not always 
+derange it in the same way. 
+
+M onopolies of the first kind always attract to theparticular trade 
+in which they are established a greater proportion of the stock of 
+the society than what would go to that trade of its own accord. 
+
+M onopolies of the second kind may sometimes attract stock 
+towards the particular trade in which they are established, and 
+sometimes repel it from that trade, according to different circum- 
+
+
+
+stances. I n poor countries, they naturally attract to wards that trade 
+more stock than would otherwise go to it. In rich countries, they 
+naturally repel from it a good deal of stock which would other- 
+wise go to it. 
+
+Such poor countries as Sweden and Denmark, for example, 
+would probably have never sent a single ship to the East Indies, 
+had not the trade been subjected to an exclusive company. The 
+establishment of such a company necessarily encourages adven- 
+turers. Their monopoly secures them against all competitors in 
+the home market, and they have thesamechancefor foreign mar- 
+kets with thetradersof other nations. Their monopoly shows them 
+thecertainty of agreat profit upon aconsiderablequantity of goods, 
+and the chance of a considerable profit upon a great quantity. 
+Without such extraordinary encouragement, the poor traders of 
+such poor countries would probably never have thought of 
+hazarding their small capitals in so very distant and uncertain an 
+adventure as the trade to the East Indies must naturally have ap- 
+peared to them. 
+
+Such a rich country as H olland, on the contrary, would prob- 
+ably, in the case of a free trade, send many more ships to the East 
+Indies than it actually does. The limited stock of the D utch East 
+I ndia company probably repels from that trade many great mer- 
+cantile capitals which would otherwise go to it. The mercantile 
+
+
+
+513 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+capital of H olland is so great, that it is, as it were, continually 
+overflowing, sometimes into the public funds of foreign coun- 
+tries, sometimes into loans to private traders and adventurers of 
+foreign countries, sometimes into the most round-about foreign 
+tradesof consumption, and sometimes in to the carrying trade. All 
+near employments beingcompletelyfilled up, all thecapital which 
+can beplaced in them with anytolerableprofit being already placed 
+in them, thecapital of H olland necessarilyflowstowardsthemost 
+distant employments. T he tradeto the East I ndies, if it were alto- 
+gether free, would probably absorb the greater part of this redun- 
+dant capital. T he East I ndies offer a market both for the manufac- 
+tures of Europe, and for the gold and silver, as well as for the 
+several other productions of America, greater and more extensive 
+than both Europe and America put together. 
+
+Every derangement of the natural distribution of stock is neces- 
+sarily hurtful to the society in which it takes place; whether it be 
+by repelling from a particular tradethestock which would other- 
+wise go to it, or by attracting towardsa parti culartradethat which 
+would not otherwise come to it. If, without any exclusive com- 
+pany, the trade of H olland to the East Indies would be greater 
+than it actually is, that country must suffer a considerable loss, by 
+part of its capital being excluded from the employment most con- 
+venient for that port. And, in the same manner, if, without an 
+
+
+
+exclusivecompany, thetradeof Sweden and Denmark to the East 
+I ndies would be less than it actually is, or, what perhaps is more 
+probable, would not exist at all, those two countries must likewise 
+suffer a considerable loss, by part of their capital beingdrawn into 
+an employment which must be more or less unsuitable to their 
+present circumstances. Better for them, perhaps, in the present 
+circumstances, to buy East India goods of other nations, even 
+though they should pay somewhat dearer, than to turn so great a 
+part of their small capital to so very distant a trade, in which the 
+returns are so very slow, in which that capital can maintain so 
+small a quantity of productive labour at home, where productive 
+labour is so much wanted, where so little is done, and where so 
+much istodo. 
+
+Though without an exclusivecompany, therefore, a particular 
+country should not be ableto carry on any direct tradeto the East 
+Indies, it will not from thence follow, that such a company ought 
+to be established there, but only that such a country ought not, in 
+thesecircumstances, to tradedirectly to the East I ndies. T hat such 
+companies are not in general necessary for carrying on the East 
+India trade, is sufficiently demonstrated by the experience of the 
+Portuguese, who enjoyed almost the whole of it for more than a 
+century together, without any exclusive company. 
+
+N o private merchant, it has been said, could well have capital 
+
+
+
+514 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+sufficient to maintain factors and agents in the different ports of 
+the East Indies, in order to provide goods for the ships which he 
+might occasionally send thither; and yet, unless he was able to do 
+this, the difficulty of finding a cargo might frequently make his 
+ships lose the season for returning; and the expense of so long a 
+delaywouldnotonlyeatupthewholeprofitoftheadventure, but 
+frequently occasion a very considerable loss. Thisargument, how- 
+ever, if it proved anything at all, would prove that no one great 
+branch of trade could be carried on without an exclusive com- 
+pany, which is contrary to the experience of all nations. T here is 
+no great branch of trade, in which the capital of any one private 
+merchant issufficientfor carrying on all the subordinate branches 
+which must be carried on, in order to carry on the principal one. 
+But when a nation is ripe for any great branch of trade, some 
+merchants naturally turn their capitalstowardstheprincipal, and 
+some towards the subordinate branches of it; and though all the 
+different branches of it are in this manner carried on, yet it very 
+seldom happens that they are all carried on by the capital of one 
+private merchant. If a nation, therefore, is ripe for the East India 
+trade, a certain portion of its capital will naturally divide itself 
+among all the different branches of that trade. Some of its mer- 
+chants will find it for their interest to reside in the East Indies, and 
+to employ their capitals there in providing goods for the ships 
+
+
+
+which are to be sent out by other merchants who reside in Eu- 
+rope. The settlements which different European nations have ob- 
+tained in the East Indies, if they were taken from the exclusive 
+companies to which they at present belong, and put under the 
+immediate protection of the sovereign, would render this residence 
+both safe and easy, at least to the merchants of the particular na- 
+tionsto whom those settlements belong. If, at any particular time, 
+that part of the capital of any country which of its own accord 
+tended and inclined, if I may say so, towards the East India trade, 
+wasnotsufficientforcarryingon all those different branches of it, 
+it would bea proof that, at that particular time, that country was 
+not ripefor that trade, and that it would do better to buy for some 
+time, even at a higher price, from other European nations, the 
+East India goods it had occasion for, than to import them itself 
+directly from the East I ndies. W hat it might lose by the high price 
+of those goods, could seldom be equal to the loss which it would 
+sustain by the distraction of a large portion of its capital from 
+other employments more necessary, or more useful, or more suit- 
+able to its circumstances and situation, than a direct trade to the 
+East Indies. 
+
+T hough the Europeans possess many considerable settlements 
+both upon thecoast of Africa and in the East Indies, they havenot 
+yet established, in either of those countries, such numerous and 
+
+
+
+515 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+thriving colonies as thosein theislandsand continent of America. 
+Africa, however, as well as several of the countries comprehended 
+under the general name of the East Indies, is inhabited by barba- 
+rous nations. But those nations were by no means so weak and 
+defenceless as the miserable and helpless Americans; and in pro- 
+portion tothenatural fertility of thecountries which they inhab- 
+ited, they were, besides, much more populous. The most barba- 
+rous nationsather of Africa or of the East I ndies, were shepherds; 
+even the H ottentots were so. But the natives of every part of 
+America, except M exicoand Peru, were only hunters and the dif- 
+ference is very great between the number of shepherds and that of 
+hunters whom the same extent of equally fertile territory can main- 
+tain. In Africa and the East Indies, therefore, it was more difficult 
+to displace the natives, and to extend the European plantations 
+over the greater part of the lands of the original inhabitants. T he 
+genius of exclusive companies, besides, is unfavourable, it has al- 
+ready been observed, tothegrowth of new colonies, and has prob- 
+ably been theprinci pal causeof thelittleprogress which they have 
+made in the East I ndies. T he Portuguese carried on thetrade both 
+to Africa and the East Indies, without any exclusive companies; 
+and their settlements at Congo, Angola, and Benguela, on the 
+coast of Africa, and at Goa in the East I ndies though much de- 
+pressed by superstition and every sort of bad government, yet bear 
+
+
+
+some resemblance to the colonies of America, and are partly in- 
+habited by Portuguese who have been established therefor several 
+generations. T he D utch settlements at the C ape of G ood H ope 
+and at Batavia, are at presentthemostconsiderablecolonies which 
+the Europeans have established, either in Africa or in the East 
+Indies; and both those settlements an peculiarly fortunate in thar 
+situation. The Cape of Good H ope was inhabited by a race of 
+people almost as barbarous, and quite as incapable of defending 
+thansdves, as the natives of America. It is, besides, the half-way 
+house, if one may say so, between Europe and the East Indies, at 
+which almost every European ship makes some stay, both in going 
+and returning. The supplying of those ships with every sort of 
+fresh provisions, with fruit, and sometimes with wine, affordsalone 
+a very extensive market for the surplus produce of the colonies. 
+What the Cape of Good Hope is between Europe and every part 
+of the East Indies, Batavia is between the principal countries of 
+theEast Indies. It liesupon themost frequented road from I ndostan 
+to C hina and Japan, and is nearly about mid-way upon that road. 
+Almost all the ships too, that sail between Europe and China, 
+touch at Batavia; and it is, over and above all this, the centre and 
+principal mart of what iscalled thecountry tradeof the East I ndies; 
+not only of that part of it which iscarried on by Europeans, but of 
+that which is carried on by the native Indians; and vessds navi- 
+
+
+
+516 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+gated by the inhabitants of China and Japan, of Tonquin, Mal- 
+acca, Cochin-China, and the island of Celebes, are frequently to 
+be seen in its port. Such advantageous situations have enabled 
+those two colonies to surmount all the obstacles which the op- 
+pressive genius of an exclusive company may have occasionally 
+opposed to their growth. They have enabled Bataviato surmount 
+the additional disadvantage of perhaps the most unwholesome 
+climate in the world. 
+
+The English and Dutch companies, though they have estab- 
+lished no considerable colonies, except thetwo above mentioned, 
+have both made considerable conquests in the East Indies. But in 
+the manner in which they both govern their new subjects, the 
+natural geniusof an exclusive company has shewn itself most dis- 
+tinctly. In the spice islands, the Dutch are said to burn all the 
+spiceries which a fertile season produces, beyond what they expect 
+to disposeof in Europe with such a profit as they think sufficient. 
+In the islands where they have no settlements, they give a pre- 
+mium to those who collect the young blossoms and green leaves 
+of the clove and nutmeg trees, which naturally grow there, but 
+which this savage policy has now, it is said, almost completely 
+extirpated. Even in the islands where they have settlements, they 
+have very much reduced, it is said, the number of those trees. If 
+the produce even of theirown islandswasmuch greater than what 
+
+
+
+suited their market, the natives, they suspect, might find meansto 
+convey some part of it to other nations; and the best way, they 
+imagine, to secure their own monopoly, is to take care that no 
+more shall grow than what they themselves carry to market. By 
+different arts of oppression, they have reduced the population of 
+several of the M oluccas nearly to the number which is sufficient 
+to supply with fresh provisions, and other necessaries of life, their 
+own insignificant garrisons, and such of their shipsas occasionally 
+come there for a cargo of spices. U nder the government even of 
+the Portuguese, however, those islands are said to have been toler- 
+ably well inhabited. The English company have not yet had time 
+to establish in Bengal so perfectly destructive a system. The plan 
+of their government, however, has had exactly the same tendency. 
+It has not been uncommon, I am well assured, for the chief, that 
+is, thefirst clerk or a factory, to order a peasant to plough up a rich 
+field of poppies, and sow it with rice, or some other grain. The 
+pretence was, to prevent a scarcity of provisions; but the real rea- 
+son, to give the chief an opportunity of selling at a better price a 
+large quantity of opium which he happened then to have upon 
+hand. U pon other occasions, the order has been reversed; and a 
+rich field of rice or other grain has been ploughed up, in order to 
+make room for a plantation of poppies, when the chief foresaw 
+that extraordinary profit was likely to be made by opium. The 
+
+
+
+517 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+servants of the company have, upon several occasions, attempted 
+to establish in theirown favour the monopoly of someof the most 
+important branches, not only of the foreign, but of the inland 
+tradeof thecountry H ad they been allowed to go on, it isimpos- 
+si blethat they should not, at sometimeor another, have attempted 
+to restrain the production of the particular articles of which they 
+had thus usurped the monopoly, not only to the quantity which 
+they themselves could purchase, but to that which they could ex- 
+pect to sell with such a profit as they might think sufficient. I n the 
+course of a century or two, the policy of the English company 
+would, in this manner, have probably proved as completely de- 
+structive as that of the D utch. 
+
+Nothing, however, can be more directly contrary to the real in- 
+terest of those companies, considered as the sovereigns of thecoun- 
+tries which they have conquered, than this destructive plan. In 
+almost all countries, the revenue of the sovereign is drawn from 
+that of the people. The greater the revenue of the people, there- 
+fore, the greater the annual produce of their land and labour, the 
+more they can afford to the sovereign. It is his interest, therefore, 
+to increase as much as possible that annual produce. But if this is 
+the interest of every sovereign, it is peculiarly so of one whose 
+revenue, likethatof thesovereign of Bengal, arises chiefly from a 
+land-rent. T hat rent must necessarily be in proportion to thequan- 
+
+
+
+tity and value of the produce; and both the one and the other 
+must depend upon the extent of the market. The quantity will 
+always be suited, with more or less exactness, to the consumption 
+of those who can afford to pay for it; and thepricewhich they will 
+pay will always bein proportion to the eagerness of their compe- 
+tition. It is the interest of such a sovereign, therefore, to open the 
+most extensive market for the produceof hiscountry to allow the 
+most perfect freedom of commerce, in order to increase as much 
+as possiblethe number and competition of buyers; and upon this 
+account to abolish, not only all monopolies, but all restraints upon 
+thetransportation of the home produce from onepartof thecoun- 
+try to mother, upon its exportation to foreign countries, or upon 
+the importation of goods of any kind for which it can be ex- 
+changed. H e is in this manner most likely to increase both the 
+quantity and value of that produce, and consequently of his own 
+share of it, or of his own revenue. 
+
+But a company of merchants, are, it seems, incapable of consid- 
+ering themselves as sovereigns, even after they have become such. 
+Trade, or buying in order to sell again, they still consider as their 
+principal business, and by a strange absurdity, regard thecharacter 
+of the sovereign as but an appendix to that of the merchant; as 
+something which ought to be made subservient to it, or by means 
+of which they may be enabled to buy cheaper in I ndia, and thereby 
+
+
+
+518 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+to sell with a better profit in Europe. They endeavour, for this 
+purpose, to keep out as much as possible all competitors from the 
+market of the countries which are subject to their government, 
+and consequently to reduce, at least, some part of thesurplus pro- 
+duce of those countries to what is barely sufficient for supplying 
+their own demand, or to what they can expect to sell in Europe, 
+with such a profit as they may think reasonable. Their mercantile 
+habits draw them in this manner, almost necessarily, though per- 
+haps insensibly, to prefer, upon all ordinary occasions, the little 
+and transitory profit of the monopolist to the great and perma- 
+nent revenue of the sovereign; and would gradually lead them to 
+treat thecountries subject to their government nearly as the D utch 
+treat the M oluccas. It is the interest of the East India company, 
+considered as sovereigns, that the European goods which are car- 
+ried to their Indian dominions should be sold there as cheap as 
+possible; and thatthelndiangoodswhicharebroughtfrom thence 
+should bring there as good a price, or should be sold there as dear 
+as possible. But the reverse of this istheir interest as merchants. As 
+sovereigns, their interest is exactly the same with that of thecoun- 
+try which they govern. As merchants, their interest isdirectly op- 
+posite to that interest. 
+
+But if the genius of such a government, even as to what con- 
+cerns its direction in Europe, is in this manner essentially, and 
+
+
+
+perhaps incurably faulty, that of its administration in Indiaisstill 
+more so. That administration is necessarily composed of acouncil 
+of merchants, a profession no doubt extremely respectable, but 
+which in no country in the world carries along with it that sort of 
+authority which naturally overawes the people, and without force 
+commandstheir willing obedience. Such a council can command 
+obedience only by the military force with which they are accom- 
+panied; and their government is, therefore, necessarily military 
+and despotical. Their proper business, however, is that of mer- 
+chants. It is to sell, upon their master's account, the European 
+goods consigned to them, and to buy, in return, Indian goods for 
+the European market. It is to sell the one as dear, and to buy the 
+other as cheap as possible, and consequently to exclude, as much 
+as possible, all rivals from the particular market where they keep 
+their shop. The genius of the administration, therefore, so far as 
+concerns thetradeofthecompany, is thesameas that of thedirec- 
+tion. It tends to make government subservient to the interest of 
+monopoly, and consequently to stunt the natural growth of some 
+parts, at least, of the surplus produce of the country, to what is 
+barely sufficient for answering the demand of the company, 
+
+All the members of the administration besides, trade more or 
+less upon their own account; and it is in vain to prohibit them 
+from doing so. N othing can be more completely foolish than to 
+
+
+
+519 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+expect that the clerk of a great counting-house, at ten thousand 
+miles distance, and consequently almost quiteout of sight, should, 
+upon a simple order from their master, give up at once doing any 
+sort of business upon their own account abandon for ever all hopes 
+of making a fortune, of which they have the means in their hands; 
+and content themselves with the moderate salaries which those 
+masters allow them, and which, moderate as they are, can seldom 
+be augmented, being commonly as large as the real profits of the 
+company trade can afford. In such circumstances, to prohibit the 
+servants of the company from trading upon their own account, 
+can have scarce any other effect than to enable its superior ser- 
+vants, under pretenceof executing their master's order, to oppress 
+such of the inferior ones as have had the misfortune to fall under 
+their displeasure. The servants naturally endeavour to establish 
+the same monopoly in favour of their own private trade as of the 
+public trade of the company. If they are suffered to act as they 
+could wish, they will establish this monopoly openly and directly, 
+by fairly prohibiting all other people from trading in the articles 
+in which they choose to deal; and this, perhaps, is the best and 
+least oppressive way of establishing it. But if, by an order from 
+Europe, they are prohibited from doing this, they will, notwith- 
+standing, endeavour to establish a monopoly of the same kind 
+secretly and indirectly, in a way that is much more destructive to 
+
+
+
+thecountry They will employ the wholeauthority of government, 
+and pervert the administration of Justice, in order to harass and 
+ruin those who interfere with them in any branch of commerce, 
+which by means of agents, either concealed, or at least not pub- 
+licly avowed, they may choose to carry on. Buttheprivatetradeof 
+the servants will naturally extend to a much greater variety of ar- 
+ticles than the public trade of the company. T he public trade of 
+the company extends no further than the trade with Europe, and 
+comprehends a part only of the foreign trade of the country. But 
+the private trade of the servants may extend to all the different 
+branches both of its inland and foreign trade. The monopoly of 
+the company can tend only to stunt the natural growth of that 
+part of the surplus produce which, in the case of a free trade, 
+would be exported to Europe. That of the servants tends to stunt 
+the natural growth of every part of the produce in which they 
+choose to deal; of what is destined for home consumption, as well 
+as of what is destined for exportation; and consequently to de- 
+gradethecultivationofthewholecountry, and to reduce thenum- 
+ber of its inhabitants. It tends to reduce the quantity of every sort 
+of produce, even that of the necessaries of life, whenever the ser- 
+vants of the country choose to deal in them, to what those ser- 
+vants can both afford to buy and expect to sell with such a profit 
+as pleases them. 
+
+
+
+520 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+From the nature of their situation, too, the servants must be 
+more disposed to support with rigourous severity their own inter- 
+est, against that of thecountry which they govern, than their mas- 
+ters can be to support theirs. Thecountry belongs to their mas- 
+ters, who cannot avoid having some regard for the interest of what 
+belongs to them; but it does not belong to the servants. T he real 
+interest of their masters, if they were capable of understanding it, 
+isthesame with that of thecountry; {T heinterest of every propri- 
+etor of India stock, however, is by no means the same with that of 
+the country in the government of which his vote gives him some 
+influence. — See book v, chap. 1, part ii.}and itisfrom ignorance 
+chiefly, and the meanness of mercantile prejudice, that they ever 
+oppress it. Butthereal interest of the servants is by no meansthe 
+same with that of the country, and the most perfect information 
+would not necessarily put an end to their oppressions. T deregula- 
+tions, accordingly, which have been sentoutfrom Europe, though 
+they have been frequently weak, have upon most occasions been 
+well meaning. M ore intelligence, and perhaps less good meaning, 
+has sometimes appeared in those established by the servants in 
+India. It isa very singular government in which every member of 
+the administration wishes to get out of the country, and conse- 
+quently to have done with the government, as soon as he can, and 
+to whose interest, theday after hehasleft it, and carried his whole 
+
+
+
+fortunewith him, itisperfectly indifferentthough thewholecoun- 
+
+try was swallowed up by an earthquake. 
+
+I mean not, however, by any thing which I have here said, to 
+throw any odious imputation upon the general character of the 
+servants of the East I ndia company, and touch less upon that of 
+any particular persons. It isthe system of government, the situa- 
+tion in which they are placed, that I mean to censure, not the 
+character of those who have acted in it. They acted as their situa- 
+tion naturally directed, and they who have clamoured the loudest 
+against them would probably not have acted better themsdves. In 
+war and negotiation, the councils of M adras and Calcutta, have 
+upon several occasions, conducted themsdves with a resolution 
+and decisive wisdom, which would have done honour to the sen- 
+ate of Rome in the best days of that republic. The members of 
+those councils, however, had been bred to professions very differ- 
+ent from war and politics. But thdr situation alone, without edu- 
+cation, experience, or even example, seemsto haveformed in them 
+all at once the great qualities which it required, and to have in- 
+spired them both with abilities and virtues which they themsdves 
+could not well know that they possessed. If upon some occasions, 
+therefore, it has animated them to actions of magnanimity which 
+could not wdl have been expected from them, we should not 
+wonder if, upon others, it has prompted them to exploits of some- 
+
+
+
+521 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+what a different nature. 
+
+Such exclusive companies, therefore, are nuisances in every re- 
+spect; always more or less inconvenient to the countries in which 
+they are established, and destructive to those which havethemis- 
+fortuneto fall under their government. 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIM 
+
+CONCLUSION OFTHE MERCANTILE 
+SYSTEM 
+
+Though the encouragement of exportation, and the discour- 
+agement of importation, are the two great engines by which the 
+mercantile system proposes to enrich every country, yet, with re- 
+gard to some particular commodities, it seems to follow an oppo- 
+site plan: to discourage exportation, and to encourage importa- 
+tion. Its ultimate object, however, it pretends, is always the same, 
+to enrich the country by an advantageous balance of trade. It dis- 
+courages the exportation of the materials of manufacture, and of 
+the instruments of trade, in order to give our own workmen an 
+advantage, and to enablethem to undersell thoseof other nations 
+in all foreign markets; and by restraining, in this manner, the ex- 
+portation of a few commodities, of no great price, it proposes to 
+occasion a much greater and more valuable exportation of others. 
+It encourages the importation of the materials of manufacture, in 
+order that our own people may be enabled to work them up more 
+cheaply, and thereby prevent a greater and more valuable impor- 
+tation of the manufactured commodities. I do not observe, at least 
+in our statute book, any encouragement given to the importation 
+
+
+
+522 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+of the instruments of trade. W hen manufactures have advanced 
+to a certain pitch of greatness, the fabrication of the instruments 
+of trade becomes itself theobject of a great number of very impor- 
+tant manufactures. To give any particular encouragement to the 
+importation of such instruments, would interfere too much with 
+the interest of those manufactures. Such importation, therefore, 
+instead of being encouraged, has frequently been prohibited. Thus 
+the importation of wool cards, except from Ireland, or when 
+brought in as wreck or prize goods, was prohibited by the 3rd of 
+Edward IV.; which prohibition was renewed by the 39th of Eliza- 
+beth, and has been continued and rendered perpetual by subse- 
+quent laws. 
+
+The importation of thematerialsof manufacturehas sometimes 
+been encouraged by an exemption from the duties to which other 
+goods are subject, and sometimes by bounties. 
+
+The importation of sheep's wool from several different coun- 
+tries, of cotton wool from all countries, of undressed flax, of the 
+greater part of dyeing drugs, ofthegreater part of undressed hides 
+from Ireland, or the British colonies, of seal skinsfrom the British 
+Greenland fishery, of pig and bar iron from the British colonies, as 
+well as of several other materials of manufacture, has been encour- 
+aged by an exemption from all duties, if properly entered at the 
+custom-house. T he private interest of our merchants and manu- 
+
+
+
+facturers may, perhaps, have extorted from the legislature these 
+exemptions, as well as the greater part of our other commercial 
+regulations. They are, however, perfectly just and reasonable; and 
+if, consistently with the necessities of the state, they could be ex- 
+tended to all the other materials of manufacture, thepublic would 
+certainly be a gainer. 
+
+The avidity of our great manufacturers, however, has in some 
+cases extended these exemptions a good deal beyond what can 
+justly be considered as the rude materials of their work. By the 
+24th Geo. II. chap. 46, a small duty of only Id. the pound was 
+imposed upon the importation of foreign brown linen yarn, in- 
+stead of much higher duties, to which it had been subjected be- 
+fore, viz. of 6d. the pound upon sail yarn, of Is. the pound upon 
+all French and Dutch yarn, and of £2:13:4 upon the hundred 
+weight of all spruce orM uscoviayarn. But our manufacturers were 
+not long satisfied with this reduction: by the 29th of the same 
+king, chap. 15, thesamelaw which gavea bounty upon theexpor- 
+tation of British and I rish linen, of which the pricedid not exceed 
+18d. theyard, even thissmall dutyupon theimportation of brown 
+linen yarn was taken away. In the different operations, however, 
+which are necessary for the preparation of linen yarn, a good deal 
+more industry is employed, than in the subsequent operation of 
+preparing linen cloth from linen yarn. To say nothing of the in- 
+
+
+
+523 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+dustry of the flax-growers and flaxdressers, three or four spinners 
+at least are necessary in order to keep one weaver in constant em- 
+ployment; and more than four-fifthsof thewholequantity of labour 
+necessary for the preparation of linen cloth, isemployed in that of 
+linen yarn; but our spinners are poor people; women commonly 
+scattered about in all different parts of the country without sup- 
+port or protection. It is not by the sale of their work, but by that 
+of the complete work of the weavers, that our great master manu- 
+facturers make their profits. As it is their interest to sell the com- 
+plete manufacture as dear, so it is to buy the materials as cheap as 
+possible. By extorting from the legislature bounties upon the ex- 
+portation of their own linen, high dutiesupon theimportation of 
+all foreign linen, and a total prohibition of the home consump- 
+tion of some sorts of French linen, they endeavour to sell their 
+own goods as dear as possible. By encouraging the importation of 
+foreign linen yarn, and thereby bringing it into competition with 
+that which is made by our own people, they endeavour to buy the 
+work of the poor spinners as cheap as possible. T hey are as intent 
+to keep down the wages of their own weavers, as the earnings of 
+the poor spinners; and it is by no means for the benefit of the 
+workmen that they endeavour either to raise the priceof thecom- 
+pletework, ortolowerthatoftherudematerials. Itistheindustry 
+which is carried on for the benefit of the rich and the powerful, 
+
+
+
+that isprincipally encouraged by our mercantile system. That which 
+is carried on for the benefit of the poor and the indigent is too 
+often either neglected or oppressed. 
+
+Both thebounty upon the exportation of linen, and theexemp- 
+tion from the duty upon theimportation of foreign yarn, which 
+weregranted onlyfor fifteen years, but continued by two different 
+prolongations, expire with the end of the session of parliament 
+which shall immediately follow the 24th of June 1786. 
+
+The encouragement given to the importation of the materials 
+of manufactureby bounties, has been principally confined to such 
+as were imported from our American plantations. 
+
+The first bounties of this kind were those granted about the 
+beginning of the present century, upon the importation of naval 
+storesfrom America. U nderthisdenomination werecompreh ended 
+timber fit for masts, yards, and bowsprits; hemp, tar, pitch, and 
+turpentine. The bounty, however, of £1 the ton upon masting- 
+timber, and that of £6 the ton upon hemp, were extended to such 
+as should be imported into England from Scotland. Both these 
+bounties continued, without any variation, at the same rate, till 
+they were severally allowed to expire; that upon hemp on the 1st 
+of January 1741, and thatupon masting-timberattheend of the 
+session of parliament immediately following the 24th June 1781. 
+
+The bounties upon theimportation of tar, pitch, and turpentine, 
+
+
+
+524 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+underwent, during their continuance, several alterations. riginally, 
+that upon tar was £4 the ton; that upon pitch the same; and that 
+upon turpentinef 3 theton. T hebounty of £4 theton upon tar was 
+afterwards confined to such as had been prepared in a particular 
+manner; that upon other good, clean, and merchantable tar was 
+reduced to f2:4&amp; the ton. The bounty upon pitch was likewise re- 
+duced to £1, and that upon turpentineto f 1:10s. theton. 
+
+Thesecond bounty upon the importation of anyofthemateri- 
+alsof manufacture, according to the order of time, wasthat granted 
+bythe21stGeo. 1 1, chap. 30, upon the importation of indigo from 
+the British plantations. When the plantation indigo was worth 
+three-fourthsof the price of the best French indigo, it was, by this 
+act, entitled to a bounty of 6d. the pound. This bounty, which, 
+I ike most others, was granted only for a limited time, was contin- 
+ued by several prolongations, but was reduced to 4d. the pound. 
+It was allowed to expire with the end of the session of parliament 
+which followed the 25th M arch 1781. 
+
+Thethird bounty of thiskind wasthat granted (much aboutthe 
+time that we were beginning sometimes to court, and sometimes 
+to quarrel with our American colonies), by the4th. Geo. III. chap. 
+26, upon the importation of hemp, or undressed flax, from the 
+British plantations.Thisbounty was granted fortwenty-oneyears, 
+from the 24th June 1764 to the 24th June 1785. For the first 
+
+
+
+seven years, it was to be at the rate of £8 theton; for thesecond at 
+£6; and for the third at £4. It was not extended to Scotland, of 
+which the climate (although hemp is sometimes raised there in 
+small quantities, and of an inferior quality) is not very fit for that 
+produce. Such a bounty upon the importation of Scotch flax in 
+England would have been too great a discouragement to the na- 
+tive produce of the southern part of the united kingdom. 
+
+The fourth bounty of this kind was that granted by the 5th 
+G eo. III. chap. 45, upon the importation of wood from America. 
+It was granted for nineyearsfrom the 1st January 1766 to the 1st 
+January 1775. During the first three years, it was to be for every 
+hundred-and-twenty good deals, at the rate of £1, and for every 
+load containing fifty cubic feet of other square timber, at the rate 
+of 12s. For thesecond three years, it was for deals, to be at the rate 
+of 15s., and for other squared timber at the rate of 8s.; and for the 
+third three years, it was for deals, to be at the rate of 10s.; and for 
+every other squared timber at the rate of 5s. 
+
+The fifth bounty of thiskind was that granted by the 9th Geo. 
+III. chap. 38, upon the importation of raw silk from the British 
+plantations. It was granted fortwenty-oneyears, from thelstjanu- 
+ary 1770, to the 1st January 1791. For the first seven years, it was 
+to be at the rate of £25 for every hundred pounds value; for the 
+second, at £20; and for thethird, at £15. T he management of the 
+
+
+
+525 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+silk-worm, and the preparation of silk, requires so much hand- 
+labour, and labour is so very dear in America, that even this great 
+bounty, I have been informed, wasnot likely to produce any con- 
+siderable effect. 
+
+The sixth Bounty of this kind was that granted by 11th Geo. 
+III. chap. 50, for the importation of pipe, hogshead, and 
+barrel staves and leadingfrom theBritish plantations. It was granted 
+for nineyears, from 1st J anuary 1772 to the 1st J anuary 1781. For 
+thefirst three years, it was, for a certain quantity of each, to beat 
+the rate of £6; for the second three years at £4; and for the third 
+three years at £2. 
+
+The seventh and last bounty of this kind was that granted by 
+the 19th Geo. Ill chap. 37, upon the importation of hemp from 
+Ireland. It was granted in thesame manner as that for theimpor- 
+tation of hemp and undressed flax from America, for twenty-one 
+years, from the 24th J une 1779 to the 24th June 1800. T he term 
+is divided likewise into three periods, of seven years each; and in 
+each of those periods, the rate of the Irish bounty isthesamewith 
+that of the American. It does not, however, like the American 
+bounty, extend to the importation of undressed flax. It would have 
+been too great a discouragement to thecultivation of that plantin 
+Great Britain. When this last bounty was granted, theBritish and 
+Irish legislatures were not in much better humour with one an- 
+
+
+
+other, than the British and American had been before. But this 
+boon to I reland, it is to be hoped, has been granted under more 
+fortunate auspices than all those to America. Thesamecommodi- 
+ties, upon which we thus gave bounties, when imported from 
+America, were subjected to considerable duties when imported 
+from any other country. The interest of our American colonies 
+was regarded as the same with that of the mother country. Their 
+wealth was considered as our wealth. W hatever money was sent 
+out to them, it was said, came all back to us by the balance of 
+trade, and we could never become a farthing the poorer by any 
+expense which we could lay out upon them. T hey were our own 
+in every respect, and it was an expense laid out upon the improve- 
+ment of our own property, and for the profitable employment of 
+our own people. It is unnecessary, I apprehend, at present to say 
+anything further, in order to expose the folly of a system which 
+fatal experience has now sufficiently exposed. H ad our American 
+colonies really been a part of Great Britain, those bounties might 
+have been considered as bounties upon production, and would 
+still have been liable to all the objections to which such bounties 
+are liable, but to no other. 
+
+T he exportation of the materials of manufacture is sometimes 
+discouraged byabsoluteprohibitions, and sometimes by high du- 
+ties. 
+
+
+
+526 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+Our woollen manufacturershavebeen more successful than any 
+other classof workmen, in persuadingthelegislaturethatthepros- 
+perity of the nation depended upon the success and extension of 
+their particular business. T hey havenot only obtained a monopoly 
+against the consumers, by an absolute prohibition of importing 
+woollen cloths from any foreign country; but they have likewise 
+obtained another monopoly against the sheep farmers and grow- 
+ers of wool, by a similar prohibition of the exportation of live 
+sheep and wool. Theseverity of many of thelawswhich have been 
+enacted for the security of the revenue is very justly complained 
+of, asimposing heavy penaltiesupon actionswhich, antecedentto 
+the statutes that declared them to be crimes, had always been un- 
+derstood to be innocent. But the cruellest of our revenue laws, I 
+will venture to affirm, aremild and gentle, in comparison to some 
+of those which the clamour of our merchants and manufacturers 
+has extorted from the legislature, for the support of their own 
+absurd and oppressive monopolies. Like the laws of Draco, these 
+laws may be said to be all written in blood. 
+
+By the 8th of Elizabeth, chap. 3, the exporter of sheep, lambs, 
+or rams, wasfor thefirst offence, to forfeit all his goodsfor ever, to 
+suffer a year's imprisonment, and then to havehisleft hand cutoff 
+in a market town, upon a market day, to be there nailed up; and 
+forthesecond offence, to be adjudged a felon, and to suffer death 
+
+
+
+accordingly. To prevent the breed of our sheep from being propa- 
+gated in foreign countries, seems to have been the object of this 
+law. By the 13th and 14th of C harles 1 1 . chap. 18, the exportation 
+of wool was made felony, and the exporter subjected to the same 
+penalties and forfeitures as a felon. 
+
+For the honour of the national humanity, it is to be hoped that 
+neither of these statutes was ever executed. T hefirst of them, how- 
+ever, so far as I know, has never been directly repealed, and Ser- 
+jeant Hawkins seems to consider it as still in force. It may, how- 
+ever, perhaps be considered as virtually repealed by the 12th of 
+C harlesl I . chap. 32, sect. 3, which, without expressly taking away 
+the penalties imposed by former statutes, imposes a new penalty, 
+viz. that of 20s. for every sheep exported, or attempted to be ex- 
+ported, together with theforfeitureof thesheep, and of theowner's 
+share of the sheep. T he second of them was expressly repealed by 
+the 7th and 8th of William III. chap. 28, sect. 4, by which it is 
+declared that "W hereas the statute of the 13th and 14th of king 
+C harles 1 1 . made against the exportation of wool, among other 
+things in thesaid act mentioned, doth enact the same to bedeemed 
+felony, by the severity of which penalty the prosecution of offend- 
+ers hath not been so effectually put in execution; be it therefore 
+enacted, by the authority aforesaid, that so much of the said act, 
+which relates to the making the said offence felony, be repealed 
+
+
+
+527 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+and made void." 
+
+Thepenalties, however, which areeither imposed by thismilder 
+statute, or which, though imposed by former statutes, are not re- 
+pealed by this one, are still sufficiently severe. Besides the forfei- 
+ture of the goods, the exporter incurs the penalty of 3s. for every 
+pound weight of wool, either exported or attempted to be ex- 
+ported, that is, about four or five times the value. Any merchant, 
+or other person convicted of this offence, isdisabled from requir- 
+ing any debt or account belonging to him from any factor or other 
+person. Let hisfortune be what it will, whether he isor is not able 
+to pay those heavy penalties, the law means to ruin him com- 
+pletely But, as the morals of the great body of the people are not 
+yet so corrupt as those of the contrivers of this statute, I havenot 
+heard that any advantage has ever been taken of this clause. If the 
+person convicted of this offence is not able to pay the penalties 
+within three months after judgment, he is to be transported for 
+seven years; and if hereturnsbeforetheexpiration of that term, he 
+is liableto the painsof felony, without benefit of clergy. T heowner 
+of the ship, knowing this offence, forfeits all his interest in the 
+ship and furniture. The master and mariners, knowing this of- 
+fence, forfeit all their goods and chattels, and suffer three months 
+imprisonment. By a subsequent statute, the master suffers six 
+months imprisonment. 
+
+
+
+I n order to prevent exportation, the whole inland commerce of 
+wool islaid under very burdensomeand oppressive restrictions. It 
+cannot be packed in anybox, barrel, cask, case, chest, or any other 
+package, but only in packsof leather or pack-cloth, on which must 
+be marked on the outside the words WOOL or YARN, in large 
+letters, not less than three inches long, on pain of forfeiting the 
+same and the package, and 8s. for every pound weight, to be paid 
+by the owner or packer. It cannot be loaden on any horse or cart, 
+or carried by land within five miles of the coast, but between sun- 
+rising, and sun-setting, on pain of forfei ting the same, the horses 
+and carriages. Thehundred next adjoining to thesea coast, out of, 
+or through which the wool is carried or exported, forfeits £20, if 
+the wool is under the value of £10; and if of greater value, then 
+treblethat value, together with treblecosts, to be sued for within 
+the year. The execution to be against any two of the inhabitants, 
+whom the sessions must reimburse, by an assessment on theother 
+inhabitants, as in the cases of robbery. And if any person com- 
+pounds with the hundred for less than this penalty, he is to be 
+imprisoned for five years; and any other person may prosecute. 
+These regulations take place through the whole kingdom. 
+
+But in the particular counties of Kent and Sussex, the restric- 
+tions are still more troublesome. Every owner of wool within ten 
+miles of the sea coast must give an account in writing, three days 
+
+
+
+528 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+after shearing, to thenext officer of thecustoms, of thenumber of 
+hisfleeces, and of the places where they are lodged. And before he 
+removes any part of them, he must give the like notice of the 
+number and weight of the fleeces, and of the name and abode of 
+the person to whom they are sold, and of the place to which it is 
+intended they should becarried. No person within fifteen milesof 
+the sea, in the said counties, can buy any wool, before he enters 
+into bond to the king, that no part of the wool which he shall so 
+buy shall be sold by him to any other person within fifteen miles 
+ofthesea. If any wool isfound carrying towards the sea side in the 
+said counties, unless it has been entered and security given as afore- 
+said, it isforfeited, and theoffender also forfeits 3s for every pound 
+weight, if any person lay any wool, not entered asaforesaid, within 
+fifteen milesof the sea, it must be seized and forfeited; and if, after 
+such seizure, any person shall claim the same, he must give secu- 
+rity to the exchequer, that if heiscast upon trial heshall pay treble 
+costs, besides all other penalties. 
+
+When such restrictions are imposed upon the inland trade, the 
+coasting trade, we may believe, cannot be left very free. Every owner 
+of wool, who carrieth, or causeth to be carried, any wool to any 
+port or place on the sea coast, in order to be from thence trans- 
+ported by sea to any other place or port on the coast, must first 
+cause an entry thereof to be made at the port from whence it is 
+
+
+
+intended to be conveyed, containingtheweight, marks, and num- 
+ber, of the packages, beforehebringsthesamewithin fivemilesof 
+that port, on pain of forfeiting the same, and also the horses, carts, 
+and other carriages; and also of suffering and forfeiting, as by the 
+other lawsin force against the exportation of wool. Thislaw, how- 
+ever (1st of William III. chap. 32), is so very indulgent as to de- 
+clare, that thisshall not hinder any person from carrying hiswool 
+homefrom the place of shearing, though it be within fivemilesof 
+the sea, provided that in ten days after shearing, and before he 
+remove the wool, he do under his hand certify to the next officer 
+of the customs the true number of fleeces, and where it is housed; 
+and do not remove the same, without certifying to such officer, 
+under his hand, his intention so to do, three days before. Bond 
+must be given thatthewool to becarried coast-ways isto belanded 
+at the particular port for which it is entered outwards; and if my 
+part of it islanded without the presence of an officer, not only the 
+forfeiture of the wool isincurred, asin other goods, buttheusual 
+additional penalty of 3s. for every pound weight is likewise in- 
+curred. 
+
+Our woollen manufacturers, in order to justify their demand of 
+such extraordinary restrictions and regulations, confidently as- 
+serted, that English wool was of a peculiar quality, superior to that 
+of any other country; that the wool of other countries could not, 
+
+
+
+529 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+without somemixtureof it, bewrought up into any tolerable manu- 
+facture; that fine cloth could not be made without it; that En- 
+gland, therefore, if the exportation of itcould be totally prevented, 
+could monopolize to herself almost the whole woollen trade of 
+the world; and thus, having no rivals, could sell at what price she 
+pleased, and in ashorttimeacquirethemostincredibledegreeof 
+wealth by the most advantageous balance of trade. T his doctrine, 
+like most other doctrines which are confidently asserted by any 
+considerable number of people, was, and still continues to be, 
+most implicitly believed by a much greater number: by almost all 
+those who are either unacquainted with the woollen trade, or who 
+havenotmadeparticular inquiries. It is, however, so perfectly false, 
+that English wool is in any respect necessary for the making of 
+finecloth, that it is altogether unfit for it. Finedoth ismadealto- 
+gether of Spanish wool. English wool, cannot be even so mixed 
+with Spanish wool, asto enter into the composition without spoil- 
+ing and degrading, in some degree, the fabric of the cloth. 
+
+It has been shown in the foregoing part of this work, that the 
+effect of these regulations has been to depress the price of English 
+wool, not only below what it naturally would be in the present 
+times, but very much below what it actually was in the time of 
+Edward 1 1 1 . T he price of Scotch wool, when, in consequenceof the 
+Union, it became subject to the same regulations, is said to have 
+
+
+
+fallen about onehalf. It isobserved by the very accurate and intelli- 
+gent author of the M emoirsofWool, theReverend M r.John Smith, 
+that the price of the best English wool in England, is generally be- 
+low what wool of a very inferior quality commonly sellsfor in the 
+market of Amsterdam. To depress the price of this commodity be- 
+low what may becalled itsnatural and proper price, wastheavowed 
+purpose of those regulations; and there seems to be no doubt of 
+thar having produced the effect that was expected from them. 
+
+Thisreduction of price, it may perhaps be thought, by discour- 
+aging the growing of wool, must have reduced very much the an- 
+nual produce of that commodity, though not below what it for- 
+merly was, yet below what, in the present state of things, it would 
+probably have been, had it, in consequence of an open and free 
+market, been allowed to rise to the natural and proper price. I am, 
+however, disposed to bdieve, that the quantity of the annual pro- 
+duce cannot have been much, though it may, perhaps, have been 
+a little affected by these regulations. The growing of wool is not 
+thechief purpose for which thesheep farmer employs hisindustry 
+and stock. H e expects his profit, not so much from the price of 
+the fleece, as from that of the carcase; and the average or ordinary 
+price of the latter must even, in many cases, makeup to him what- 
+ever deficiency there may be in the average or ordinary price of 
+the former. It has been observed, in the foregoing part of this 
+
+
+
+530 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+work, that 'whatever regulations tend to sink the price, either of 
+wool or of raw hides, below what it naturally would be, must, in 
+an improved and cultivated country, have some tendency to raise 
+the price of butcher's meat. The price, both of thegreatand small 
+cattle which are fed on improved and cultivated land, must be 
+sufficient to pay the rent which the landlord, and the profit which 
+the farmer, has reason to expect from improved and cultivated 
+land. If it is not, they will soon cease to feed them. Whatever part 
+of this price, therefore, isnotpaid bythewool andthehide, must 
+be paid by the carcase. T he less there is paid for the one, the more 
+must be paid for the other. I n what manner this price is to be di- 
+vided uponthedifferentpartsofthebeast, is indifferent to the land- 
+lords and farmers, provided it is all paid to them. In an improved 
+and cultivated country, therefore, their interest aslandlordsand farm- 
+ers cannot bemuch affected by such regulations, though their inter- 
+est asconsumersmay, by therisein thepriceof provisions.' Accord- 
+ingtothisreasoning, therefore, this degradation in thepriceof wool 
+isnot likely, in an improved and cultivated country, to occasion any 
+diminution intheannual produce of that commodity; except so far 
+as, by raising the price of mutton, it may somewhat diminish the 
+demand for, and consequently the production of, that particular 
+species of butcher's meat, Its effect, however, even in this way, it is 
+probable, is not very considerable. 
+
+
+
+But though its effect upon the quantity of the annual produce 
+may not have been very considerable, its effect upon the quality, it 
+may perhaps bethought, must necessarily have been very great. The 
+degradation in thequality of English wool, if not below what it was 
+in former times, yet below what it naturally would have been in the 
+present state of improvement and cultivation, must have been, it 
+may perhaps be supposed, very nearlyin proportion to thedegrada- 
+tion of price. As the quality depends upon the breed, upon the 
+pasture, and upon the management and cleanliness of the sheep, 
+duringthewholeprogressof thegrowth of thefleece, theattention 
+to these circumstances, it may naturally enough be imagined, can 
+never be greater than in proportion to the recompence which the 
+priceof thefleeceislikelyto makeforthelabour and expense which 
+that attention requires. It happens, however, that the goodness of 
+thefleecedepends, in a great measure, upon thehealth, growth, and 
+bulk of the animal: the same attention which is necessary for the 
+improvement of thecarcaseis, in somerespect, sufficient for that of 
+thefleece. Notwithstanding the degradation of price, English wool 
+is said to have been improved considerably during the course even 
+of thepresentcentury.Theimprovement, might, perhaps, have been 
+greater if the price had been better; butthelownessof price, though 
+it may haveobstructed, yet certainly it hasnot altogether prevented 
+that improvement. 
+
+
+
+531 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+The violence of these regulations, therefore, seems to have af- 
+fected neither thequantity nor the quality of the annual produceof 
+wool, so much asit might havebeen expected to do (though I think 
+it probable that it may have affected the latter a good deal more 
+than theformer); and the interest of the growers of wool, though it 
+must havebeen hurt in somedegree, seems upon the whole, to have 
+been much less hurt than could well havebeen imagined. 
+
+Theseconsiderations, however, will notjustify theabsolutepro- 
+hibition of the exportation of wool; but they will fully justify the 
+imposition of a considerable tax upon that exportation. 
+
+To hurt, in any degree, the interest of any one order of citizens, 
+for no other purpose but to promote that of some other, is evi- 
+dently contrary to that justice and equality of treatment which the 
+sovereign owes to all the different orders of his subjects. But the 
+prohibition certainly hurts, in some degree, the interest of the 
+growers of wool, for no other purpose but to promote that of the 
+manufacturers. 
+
+Every different order of citizens is bound to contribute to the 
+support of the sovereign or commonwealth. A tax of five, or even 
+often shillings, upon the exportation of every tod of wool, would 
+produce a very considerable revenue to the sovereign. It would 
+hurt the interest of the growers somewhat less than the prohibi- 
+tion, because it would not probably lower the price of wool quite 
+
+
+
+so much. It would afford a sufficient advantage to the manufac- 
+turer, because, though he might not buy his wool altogether so 
+cheap asunder theprohibition,hewould still buy it at I east five or 
+ten shillings cheaper than any foreign manufacturer could buy it, 
+besides saving the freight and insurancewhich theother would be 
+obliged to pay. It is scarce possible to devise a tax which could 
+produce any considerablerevenuetothesovereign, and atthesame 
+time occasion so little i neon veniency to anybody. 
+
+The prohibition, notwithstanding all the penalties which guard 
+it, does not prevent the exportation of wool. It is exported, it is 
+well known, in great quantities. The great difference between the 
+price in the home and that in the foreign market, presents such a 
+temptation to smuggling, that all the rigour of the law cannot 
+prevent it. This illegal exportation is advantageous to nobody but 
+the smuggler. A legal exportation, subject to a tax, by affording a 
+revenue to the sovereign, and thereby saving the imposition of 
+some other, perhaps more burdensome and inconvenient taxes, 
+might prove advantageous to all thedifferent subjects of the state. 
+The exportation of fuller's earth, or fuller's clay, supposed to be 
+necessary for preparing and cleansing the woollen manufactures, 
+has been subjected to nearly thesame penalties as the exportation 
+of wool. Even tobacco-pipeclay, though acknowledged to bedif- 
+
+
+
+532 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+ferentfrom fuller's clay, yet, on account of their resemblance, and 
+becausefuller's clay might sometimes be exported as tobacco-pipe 
+clay, has been laid under thesameprohibitionsand penalties 
+
+By the 13th and 14th of C harles 1 1 . chap, 7, the exportation, 
+not only of rawhides, but of tanned leather, except in theshapeof 
+boots, shoes, or slippers, was prohibited; and the law gave a mo- 
+nopoly to our boot-makersand shoe-makers, not only against our 
+graziers, but against our tanners. By subsequent statutes, our tan- 
+ners have got themselves exempted from this monopoly, upon 
+paying a small tax of only one shilling on the hundred weight of 
+tanned leather, weighing one hundred and twelve pounds. They 
+have obtained likewise the drawback of two-thirds of the excise 
+duties imposed upon their commodity, even when exported with- 
+out further manufacture. All manufactures of leather may be ex- 
+ported duty free; and the exporter is besides entitled to the draw- 
+back of the wholedutiesof excise. Our graziers still continuesub- 
+jectto the old monopoly. Graziers, separated from one another, 
+and dispersed through all thedifferent corners of the country, can- 
+not, without great difficulty, combine together for the purpose 
+either of imposing monopolies upon their fellow-citizens, or of 
+exempting themselves from such asmay have been imposed upon 
+them by other people. M anufacturers of all kinds, collected to- 
+gether in numerous bodies in all great cities, easily can. Even the 
+
+
+
+horns of cattle are prohibited to be exported; and the two insig- 
+nificant trades of the horner and comb-maker enjoy, in this re- 
+spect, a monopoly against the graziers. 
+
+Restraints, either by prohibitions, or by taxes, upon the expor- 
+tation of goods which are partially, but not completely manufac- 
+tured, are not peculiar to the manufacture of leather. As long as 
+anything remains to be done, in order to fit any commodity for 
+immediate use and consumption, our manufacturers think that 
+they themselves ought to have the doing of it. Woollen yarn and 
+worsted areprohibited to be exported, under thesamepenalties as 
+wool even white cloths we subject to a duty upon exportation; 
+and our dyers have so far obtained a monopoly against our cloth- 
+iers. ur clothiers would probably have been ableto defend them- 
+selves against it; but it happens that the greater part of our princi- 
+pal clothiers are themselves likewisedyers. Watch-cases, clock-cases, 
+and dial-platesfor clocks and watches, have been prohibited to be 
+exported. Our clock-makers and watch-makers are, it seems, un- 
+willingthatthepriceofthissort of workmanship should be raised 
+upon them by the competition of foreigners. 
+
+By some old statutes of Edward 1 1 1 , H enry VI 1 1 . and Edward 
+VI. the exportation of all metals was prohibited. Lead and tin 
+were alone excepted, probably on account of thegreat abundance 
+of those metals; in the exportation of which a considerable part of 
+
+
+
+533 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+thetrade of the kingdom in those days consisted. Fortheencour- 
+agement of the mining trade, the 5th of William and M ary, 
+chap.17, exempted from this prohibition iron, copper, and mundic 
+metal madefrom British ore. The exportation of all sorts of cop- 
+per bars, foreign as well as British, was afterwards permitted by 
+the 9th and 10th of William III. chap 26. The exportation of 
+unmanufactured brass, of what is called gun-metal, bell-metal, 
+and shroff metal, still continuestobeprohibited. Brass manufac- 
+tures of all sorts may be exported duty free. 
+
+The exportation of the materials of manufacture, whereitisnot 
+altogether prohibited, is, in many cases, subjected to considerable 
+duties. 
+
+By the 8th Geo. I. chap.15, the exportation of all goods, the 
+produce of manufacture of Great Britain, upon which any duties 
+had been imposed by former statutes, was rendered duty free. The 
+following goods, however, wereexcepted: alum, lead, lead-ore, tin, 
+tanned leather, copperas, coals, wool, cards, whitewoollen cloths, 
+lapis calaminaris, skins of all sorts, glue, coney hair or wool, hares 
+wool, hair of all sorts, horses, and litharge of lead. If you except 
+horses, all these are either materials of manufacture, or incom- 
+plete manufactures (which may be considered as materialsfor still 
+further manufacture), or instruments of trade. This statute leaves 
+them subject to all the old duties which had ever been imposed 
+
+
+
+upon them, the old subsidy, and one per cent, outwards. 
+
+By the same statute, a great number of foreign drugs for dyers 
+use are exempted from all dutiesupon importation. Each of them, 
+however, is afterwards subjected to a certain duty, not indeed a 
+very heavy one, upon exportation. Our dyers, it seems, whilethey 
+thought it for their interest to encourage the importation of those 
+drugs, by an exemption from all duties, thought it likewise for 
+their own interest to throw somesmall discouragement upon their 
+exportation. The avidity, however, which suggested this notable 
+piece of mercantile ingenuity, most probably disappointed itself 
+of itsobject. It necessarily taught the importers to be more careful 
+than they might otherwisehave been, that theirimportati on should 
+not exceed what was necessary for the supply of the home market. 
+The home market was at all times likely to be more scantily sup- 
+plied; the commodities were at all times likely to be somewhat 
+dearer there than they would have been, had the exportation been 
+rendered as free as the importation. 
+
+By the above-mentioned statute, gum senega, or gum arabic, 
+being among the enumerated dyeing drugs, might be imported 
+duty free. They were subjected, indeed, to asmall poundageduty, 
+amounting only to threepence in the hundred weight, upon their 
+re-exportation. France enjoyed, at that time, an exclusive tradeto 
+thecountry most productive of those drugs, that which lies in the 
+
+
+
+534 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+neighbourhood of the Senegal; and the British market could not 
+beeasilysuppliedbytheimmediateimportationofthem from the 
+place of growth. By the 25th G eo. II. therefore, gum senega was 
+allowed to be imported (contrary to the general dispositions of 
+the act of navigation) from any part of Europe. As the law, how- 
+ever, did not mean to encourage this species of trade, so contrary 
+to the general principles of the mercantile policy of England, it 
+imposed a duty of ten shillings the hundred weight upon such 
+importation, and no part of this duty was to be afterwards drawn 
+back upon itsexportation.Thesuccessful war which began in 1755 
+gaveGreat Britain thesameexdusivetradeto those countries which 
+Francehad enjoyed before. ur manufactures, as soon asthepeace 
+was made, endeavoured to avail themselves of this advantage, and 
+to establish a monopoly in their own favour both against the grow- 
+ers and against the importers of this commodity. By the 5th of 
+Geo. 1 1 1 . therefore, chap. 37, the exportation of gum senega, from 
+his majesty's dominions in Africa, was confined to Great Britain, 
+and was subjected to all the same restrictions, regulations, forfei- 
+tures, and penalties, as that of the enumerated commodities of the 
+British colonies in America and the West Indies Its importation, 
+indeed, was subjected to a small duty of sixpence the hundred 
+weight; but its re-exportation was subjected to theenormousduty 
+of one pound ten shillings the hundred weight. It was the inten- 
+
+
+
+tion of our manufacturers, that thewholeproduceof those coun- 
+tries should beimported into Great Britain; and in order that they 
+themselves might be enabled to buy it at their own price, that no 
+part of it should be exported again, but at such an expense as 
+would sufficiently discourage that exportation. Their avidity, how- 
+ever, upon this, aswdl asupon many other occasions, disappointed 
+itsdf of its object. T his enormous duty presented such a tempta- 
+tion to smuggling, that great quantities of this commodity were 
+clandestinely exported, probably to all the manufacturing coun- 
+tries of Europe, but particularly to Holland, not only from Great 
+Britain, but from Africa. Upon this account, by the 14th Geo. III. 
+chap. 10, this duty upon exportation was reduced to five shillings 
+the hundred weight. 
+
+In the book of rates, according to which the old subsidy was 
+levied, beaver skinswere estimated at sixshillings and aght pence 
+apiece; and the different subsidies and imposts which, before the 
+year 1722, had been laid upon thar importation, amounted to 
+one-fifth part of the rate, or to sixteen pence upon each skin; all of 
+which, except half the old subsidy, amounting only to twopence, 
+was drawn back upon exportation. This duty, upon the importa- 
+tion of so important a material of manufacture, had been thought 
+too high; and, in theyear 1722, the rate was reduced to two shil- 
+lings and sixpence, which reduced the duty upon importation to 
+
+
+
+535 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+sixpence, and of this only one-half was to be drawn back upon 
+exportation. The same successful war put the country most pro- 
+ductive of beaver under the dominion of Great Britain; and bea- 
+ver skins being among theenumerated commodities, theexporta- 
+tion from America was consequently confined to the market of 
+Great Britain. Our manufacturers soon bethought themselves of 
+the advantage which they might make of this circumstance; and 
+in the year 1764, the duty upon the importation of beaver skin 
+was reduced to one penny, but the duty upon exportation was 
+raised to seven pence each skin, without any drawback of theduty 
+upon importation. Bythesamelaw, a duty of eighteen pence the 
+pound was imposed upon the exportation of beaver wool or 
+woumbs, without making any alteration in the duty upon the 
+importation of that commodity, which, when imported by Brit- 
+ish, and in British shipping, amounted at that time to between 
+fourpenceand fivepence the piece. 
+
+Coals may be considered both as a material of manufacture, 
+and as an instrument of trade. Heavy duties, accordingly, have 
+been imposed upon their exportation, amounting at present (1783) 
+to more than five shillings the ton, or more than fifteen shillings 
+the chaldron, N ewcastle measure; which is, in most cases, more 
+than the original value of the commodity at the coal-pit, or even 
+at the shipping port for exportation. 
+
+
+
+The exportation, however, of the instruments of trade, properly 
+so called, is commonly restrained, not by high duties, but by ab- 
+solute prohibitions. Thus, by the 7th and 8th of William III 
+chap. 20, sect.8, the exportation of frames or engines for knitting 
+gloves or stockings, is prohibited, under the penalty, not only of 
+the forfeiture of such frames or engines, so exported, or attempted 
+to be exported, but of forty pounds, one half to the king, the 
+other to the person who shall inform or sue for the same. I n the 
+same manner, by the 14th G eo. III. chap. 71, the exportation to 
+foreign parts, of any utensils made use of in the cotton, linen, 
+woollen, and silk manufactures, is prohibited under the penalty, 
+not only of the forfeiture of such utensils, but of two hundred 
+pounds, to be paid by theperson who shall offend in thismanner; 
+and likewise of two hundred pounds, to be paid by the master of 
+theship, who shall knowingly suffer such utensilsto be loaded on 
+board his ship. 
+
+When such heavy penalties wereimposed upon the exportation 
+of the dead instruments of trade, it could not well be expected 
+that the living instrument, the artificer, should be allowed to go 
+free. Accordingly, by the 5th Geo. I. chap. 27, the person who 
+shall be convicted of enticing any artificer, of or in any of the 
+manufactures of Great Britain, to go into any foreign parts, in 
+order to practise or teach histrade, is liable, for thefirst offence, to 
+
+
+
+536 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+be fined in any sum not exceeding one hundred pounds, and to 
+three months imprisonment, and until thefineshall be paid; and 
+forthesecond offence, to be fined in any sum, at the discretion of 
+the court, and to imprisonment for twelve months, and until the 
+fine shall be paid. By the 23d Geo. II. chap. 13, this penalty is 
+increased, for the first offence, to five hundred pounds for every 
+artificer so enticed, and to twelve monthsimprisonment, and until 
+thefineshall be paid; and forthesecond offence, to onethousand 
+pounds, and to two years imprisonment, and until thefineshall 
+be paid. 
+
+Bytheformer of these two statutes, upon proof that any person 
+has been enticing any artificer, or that any artificer has promised 
+or contracted to go into foreign parts, for the purposes aforesaid, 
+such artificer may be obliged to give security, at the discretion of 
+the court, that he shall not go beyond the seas, and may be com- 
+mitted to prison until he give such security. 
+
+If any artificer has gone beyond the seas, and is exercising or 
+teaching his trade in any foreign country, upon warning being 
+given to him by any of his majesty's ministers or consuls abroad, 
+or by one of his majesty's secretaries of state, for the time being, if 
+he does not, within six months after such warning, return into 
+this realm, and from henceforth abide and inhabit continually 
+within thesame, heisfrom thenceforth declared incapable of tak- 
+
+
+
+ing any legacy devised to him within this kingdom, or of being 
+executor or administrator to any person, or of taking any lands 
+within thiskingdom, by descent, devise, or purchase. H e likewise 
+forfeits to the king all hislands, goods, and chattels; isdeclared an 
+alien in every respect; and is put out of the king's protection. 
+
+It is unnecessary, I imagine, to observe how contrary such regu- 
+lation s are to the boasted liberty of thesubject, of which we affect 
+to beso veryjealous; but which, in thiscase, isso plainly sacrificed 
+to the futile interests of our merchants and manufacturers. 
+
+The laudable motive of all these regulations, is to extend our 
+own manufactures, not by their own improvement, but by the 
+depression of those of all our neighbours, and by putting an end, 
+asmuch as possible, to thetroublesomecompetition of such odi- 
+ous and disagreeable rivals Our master manufacturers think it 
+reasonable that they themselves should have the monopoly of the 
+ingenuity of all their countrymen. Though by restraining, in some 
+trades, the number of apprentices which can be employed at one 
+time, and by imposing thenecessity of a long apprenticeship in all 
+trades, they endeavour, all of them, to confine the knowledge of 
+their respective employments to as small a number as possible; 
+they are unwilling, however, that any part of this small number 
+should go abroad to instruct foreigners. 
+
+Consumption is the sole end and purpose of all production; 
+
+
+
+537 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+and the interest of the producer ought to be attended to, only so 
+far as it may be necessary for promoting that of the consumer. 
+
+The maxim is so perfectly self-evident, that it would be absurd 
+to attempt to prove it. But in the mercantile system, the interest of 
+the consumer is almost constantly sacrificed to that of the pro- 
+ducer; and it seems to consider production, and not consump- 
+tion, astheultimateend and object of all industry and commerce. 
+
+In the restraints upon the importation of all foreign commodi- 
+ties which can comeinto competition with thoseof our own growth 
+or manufacture, the interest of the home consumer is evidently 
+sacrificed to that of the producer. 1 1 is altogether for the benefit of 
+the latter, that the former is obliged to pay that enhancement of 
+price which this monopoly almost always occasions. 
+
+It is altogether for the benefit of the producer, that bounties are 
+granted upon the exportation of some of his productions. The 
+home consumer isobliged to pay, first thetax which is necessary 
+for paying the bounty; and, secondly, the still greater tax which 
+necessarily arises from the enhancement of the price of the com- 
+modity in the home market. 
+
+By the famous treaty of commerce with Portugal, theconsumer 
+is prevented by duties from purchasing of a neighbouring coun- 
+try, a commodity which our own dimatedoes not produce; but is 
+obliged to purchase it of a distant country, though it is acknowl- 
+
+
+
+edged, that the commodity of the distant country is of a worse 
+quality than that of the near one. T he home consumer is obliged 
+to submit to this inconvenience, in order that the producer may 
+import into the distant country some of his productions, upon 
+more advantageous terms than he otherwise would have been al- 
+lowed to do. The consumer, too, is obliged to pay whatever en- 
+hancement in the price of those very productions this forced ex- 
+portation may occasion in the home market. 
+
+But in the system of laws which has been established for the 
+management of our American and West Indian colonies, the in- 
+terest of the home consumer has been sacrificed to that of the 
+producer, with a more extravagant profusion than in all our other 
+commercial regulations. A great empire has been established for 
+the sole purpose of raising up a nation of customers, who should 
+be obliged to buy, from the shops of our different producers, all 
+the goods with which these could supply them. For the sake of 
+that little enhancement of price which this monopoly might af- 
+ford our producers, the homeconsumers have been burdened with 
+the whole expense of maintaining and defending that empire. For 
+this purpose, and for this purpose only, in thetwo last wars, more 
+than two hundred millions have been spent, and a new debt of 
+more than a hundred and seventy millions has been contracted, 
+over and above all that had been expended for the same purpose 
+
+
+
+538 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+in former wars. T he interest of this debt alone is not only greater 
+than the whole extraordinary profit which, it never could be pre- 
+tended, was made by the monopoly of the colony trade, but than 
+thewholevalueof that trade, or than thewholevalueof thegoods 
+which, at an average, have been annually exported tothecolonies. 
+It cannot be very difficult to determine who have been thecon- 
+trivers of this whole mercantile system; not the consumers, we 
+may believe, whose interest has been entirely neglected; but the 
+producers, whose interest has been so carefully attended to; and 
+among this latter class, our merchants and manufacturers have 
+been by far the principal architects In the mercantile regulations 
+which have been taken noticeof in this chapter, the interest of our 
+manufacturers has been most peculiarly attended to; and the in- 
+terest, notso much of the consumers, as that of some other sets of 
+producers, has been sacrificed to it. 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX 
+
+OFTHE AGRICULTURAL SYSTEMS,OR 
+
+OFTHOSE SYSTEMSOF POLITICAL 
+
+ECONOMYWHICH REPRESENTTHE 
+
+PRODUCE OF LAND, AS EITHER THE 
+
+SOLE ORTHE PRINCIPAL SOURCE OF 
+
+THE REVENUE AND WEALTH OF EVERY 
+
+COUNTRY 
+
+The agricultural systems of political economy will not require 
+so long an explanation as that which I have thought it necessary to 
+bestow upon the mercantile or commercial system. 
+
+That system which represents the produce of land as the sole 
+source of the revenue and wealth of every country, has so far as I 
+know, never been adopted by any nation, and it at present exists 
+only in the speculations of a few men of great learning and inge- 
+nuity in France. It would not, surely, beworth whileto examineat 
+great length the errors of a system which never has done, and 
+probably never will do, any harm in any part of the world. I shall 
+endeavour to explain, however, as distinctly as I can, the great 
+outlines of this very ingenious system. 
+
+M r. Colbert, the famous minister of LewisXIV. wasa man of 
+
+
+
+539 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+probity, of great industry, and knowledge of detail; of great expe- 
+rience and acutenessin the examination of public accounts; and 
+of abilities, in short, every way fitted for introducing method and 
+good order into the collection and expenditure of the public rev- 
+enue. That minister had unfortunately embraced all the preju- 
+dices of the mercantile system, in its nature and essence a system 
+of restraint and regulation, and such as could scarce fail to be 
+agreeable to a laborious and plodding man of business, who had 
+been accustomed to regulate the different departments of public 
+offices, and to establish the necessary checks and controlsfor con- 
+fining each to its proper sphere. The industry and commerce of a 
+great country, heendeavoured to regulateupon thesamemodel as 
+the departments of a public office; and instead of allowing every 
+man to pursue his own interest his own way, upon the liberal plan 
+of equality, liberty, and justice, hebestowed upon certain branches 
+of industry extraordinary privileges, while he laid others under as 
+extraordinary restraints. Hewasnot only disposed, likeother Eu- 
+ropean ministers, to encourage more the industry of the towns 
+than that of the country; but, in order to support the industry of 
+the towns, he was willing even to depress and keep down that of 
+thecountry. In order to render provisionscheap to theinhabitants 
+of thetowns, and thereby to encourage manufactures and foreign 
+commerce, he prohibited altogether the exportation of corn, and 
+
+
+
+thus excluded the inhabitants of the country from every foreign 
+market, for by far the most important part of the produce of their 
+industry. Thisprohibition, joined to the restraints imposed by the 
+ancient provincial lawsof Franceupon thetransportation of corn 
+from one province to another, and to the arbitrary and degrading 
+taxes which are levied upon the cultivators in almost all the prov- 
+inces, discouraged and kept down the agriculture of that country 
+very much below the state to which it would naturally have risen 
+in so very fertile a soil, and so very happy a dim ate. This state of 
+discouragement and depression wasfeltmoreorlessin every dif- 
+ferent part of the country, and many different inquiries were set 
+on foot concerni ng the causes of it. ne of those causes appeared 
+to be the preference given, by the institutions of M r. Colbert, to 
+the industry of the towns above that of the country. 
+
+If the rod be bent too much oneway, says the proverb, in order 
+to make it straight, you must bend it as much theother. The French 
+philosophers, who have proposed the system which represents 
+agriculture as the sole source of the revenue and wealth of every 
+country, seem to have adopted this proverbial maxim; and, as in 
+the plan of M r. Colbert, the industry of the towns was certainly 
+overvalued in comparison with that of the country, so in their 
+system it seems to be as certainly under-valued. 
+
+T hedifferent ordersof people, who have ever been supposed to 
+
+
+
+540 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+contributein any respect to wards the annual produce of the land 
+and labour of the country, they divide into three classes. The first 
+istheclassof theproprietorsof land.Thesecondisthedassofthe 
+cultivators, of farmers and country labourers, whom they honour 
+with the peculiar appellation of the productive class. The third is 
+the class of artificers, manufacturers, and merchants, whom they 
+endeavour to degrade by the humiliating appellation of the barren 
+or unproductive class. 
+
+The class of proprietors contributes to the annual produce, by 
+the expense which they may occasionally lay out upon the im- 
+provement of theland, upon thebuildings, drains, indosures, and 
+other ameliorations, which they may either makeor maintain upon 
+it, and by means of which the cultivators are enabled, with the 
+samecapital, to raiseagreater produce, and consequently to pay a 
+greater rent. This advanced rent may be considered as the interest 
+or profit dueto the proprietor, upon the expense or capital which 
+he thus employs in the improvement of his land. Such expenses 
+are in this system called ground expenses (depensesfoncieres). 
+
+Thecultivatorsorfarmerscontributetotheannual produce, by 
+what are in this system called the original and annual expenses 
+(depenses primitives, et depenses annuelles), which they lay out 
+upon the cultivation of the land. The original expenses consist in 
+the instruments of husbandry, in the stock of cattle, in the seed, 
+
+
+
+and in the maintenance of the farmer's family, servants, and cattle, 
+during at least a great part of the first year of his occupancy, or till 
+he can receive some return from the land. T he annual expenses 
+consist in the seed, in the wear and tear of instruments of hus- 
+bandry, and in the annual maintenance of the farmer's servants 
+and cattle, and of his family too, so far as any part of them can be 
+considered as servants employed in cultivation. T hat part of the 
+produce of theland which remains to him after paying the rent, 
+oughtto be sufficient, first, to replaceto him, within a reasonable 
+time, at least during the term of his occupancy, the whole of his 
+original expenses, together with theordinary profits of stock; and, 
+secondly, to replaceto him annually the whole of his annual ex- 
+penses, together likewise with the ordinary profits of stock. Those 
+two sorts of expenses are two capitals which thefarmer employs in 
+cultivation; and unless they are regularly restored to him, together 
+with a reasonable profit, hecannot carry on hisemploymentupon 
+a levd with other employments; but, from a regard to his own 
+interest, must desert it as soon as possible, and seek some other. 
+T hat part of the produce of the land which is thus necessary for 
+enabling thefarmer to continuehis business, ought to beconsid- 
+ered asafund sacred to cultivation, which, if the landlord violates, 
+he necessarily reduces the produce of his own land, and, in a few 
+years, not only disables the farmer from paying this racked rent, 
+
+
+
+541 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+but from paying the reasonable rent which he might otherwise 
+have got for hisland. The rent which properly belongsto the land- 
+lord, is no more than the neat produce which remains after pay- 
+ing, in the completest manner, all the necessary expenses which 
+must bepreviously laid out, in order to raise thegrossor the whole 
+produce. Itisbecausethelabourof thecultivators, over and above 
+paying completely all those necessary expenses, affordsaneat pro- 
+duce of this kind, that this class of peoplearein thissystem pecu- 
+liarly distinguished by the honourable appellation of the produc- 
+tive class. Their original and annual expenses are for the same 
+reason called, In thissystem, productive expenses, because, over 
+and above replacing their own value, they occasion the annual 
+reproduction of this neat produce. 
+
+The ground expenses, as they are called, or what the landlord 
+lays out upon the improvement of his land, are, in this system, 
+too, honoured with the appellation of productive expenses. Till 
+the whole of those expenses, together with the ordi nary profits of 
+stock, have been completely repaid to him by the advanced rent 
+which he gets from his land, that advanced rent ought to be re 
+garded as sacred and inviolable, both by the church and by the 
+king; ought to be subject neither to tithe nor to taxation. If it is 
+otherwise, by discouraging the improvement of land, the church 
+discourages thefutureincreaseof her own tithes, and thekingthe 
+
+
+
+future increase of hi sown taxes. Asin a well ordered state of things, 
+therefore, those ground expenses, over and above reproducing in 
+the completest manner their own value, occasion likewise, after a 
+certain time, a reproduction of a neat produce, they are in this 
+system considered as productive expenses. 
+
+The ground expenses of the landlord, however, together with 
+the original and the annual expenses of the farmer, are the only 
+three sorts of expenses which in thissystem are considered as pro- 
+ductive. All other expenses, and all other orders of people, even 
+those who, in thecommon apprehensionsof men, areregarded as 
+the most productive, are, in this account of things, represented as 
+altogether barren and unproductive. 
+
+Artificers and manufacturers, in particular, whose industry, in 
+thecommon apprehensionsof men, increases so much the value 
+of the rude produce of land, are in this system represented as a 
+classof people altogether barren and unproductive. Their labour, 
+it is said, replaces only the stock which employs them, together 
+with itsordinary profits. T hat stock consists in thematerials, tools, 
+and wages, advanced to them by their employer; and isthefund 
+destined for their employment and maintenance. Its profits are 
+the fund destined for the maintenance of their employer. Their 
+employer, as he advances to them thestock of materials, tools, and 
+wages, necessary for their employment, so he advances to himself 
+
+
+
+542 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+what is necessary for his own maintenance; and this maintenance 
+he generally proportions to the profit which he expects to make 
+by thepriceof their work. U nlessitsprice repays to him themain- 
+tenance which he advances to himself, as well as the materials, 
+tools, and wages, which he advances to his workmen, it evidently 
+does not repay to him the whole expense which he lays out upon 
+it. T he profitsof manufacturing stock, therefore, arenot, likethe 
+rent of land, a neat produce which remains after completely re- 
+paying the whole expense which must be laid out in order to ob- 
+tain them. The stock of the farmer yields him a profit, as well as 
+that of the master manufacturer; and it yields a rent likewise to 
+another person, which that of the master manufacturer does not. 
+The expense, therefore, laid out in employing and maintaining 
+artificers and manufacturers, does no more than continue, if one 
+may say so, the existence of its own value, and does not produce 
+any new value. It is, therefore, altogether a barren and unproduc- 
+tive expense. The expense, on thecontrary, laid out in employing 
+farmers and country labourers, over and abovecontinuingtheex- 
+istence of its own value, produces a new value the rent of the 
+landlord. It is, therefore, a productive expense. 
+
+M ercan tile stock is equally barren and unproductive with manu- 
+facturing stock. It only continues the existence of its own value, 
+without producing any new value. Its profits are only the repay- 
+
+
+
+ment of the maintenance which its employer advances to himself 
+duringthetimethat heemploysit, or till hereceivesthereturnsof 
+it. They are only the repayment of a part of the expense which 
+must be laid out in employing it. 
+
+T helabour of artificers and man ufacturersneveraddsany thing 
+to the value of the whole annual amount of the rude produce of 
+the land. It adds, indeed, greatly to the value of some particular 
+parts of it. Buttheconsumption which, in themean time, it occa- 
+sions of other parts, isprecisely equal tothevaluewhich itaddsto 
+those parts; so that the value of the whole amount is not, at any 
+one moment of time, in the least augmented by it. The person 
+who works the I ace of a pair of fine ruffles for example, will some- 
+times raise the value of, perhaps, a pennyworth of flax to £30 
+sterling. But though, at first sight, heappears thereby to multiply 
+the value of a part of the rude produce about seven thousand and 
+two hundred times, he in reality adds nothing to the value of the 
+whole annual amount of the rude produce. T he working of that 
+lace costs him, perhaps, two years labour. The £30 which he gets 
+for it when it is finished, is no more than the repayment of the 
+subsistence which he advances to himself during the two years 
+that he is employed about it. The value which, by every day's, 
+month's, or year's labour, he adds to the flax, does no more than 
+replace thevalueofhisown consumption during that day, month, 
+
+
+
+543 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+or year. At no moment of time, therefore, does he add any thing 
+to the value of the whole annual amount of the rude produce of 
+theland: theportion of that producewhich heiscontinually con- 
+suming, being always equal to the value which heiscontinually 
+produci ng. T he extreme poverty of the greater part of the persons 
+employed in this expensive, though trifling manufacture, may sat- 
+isfy us that the price of their work does not, in ordinary cases, 
+exceed thevalueof their subsistence. It isotherwise with thework 
+of farmers and country labourers. The rent of the landlord is a 
+value which, in ordinary cases, it is continually producing over 
+and above replacing, in the most complete manner, the whole 
+consumption, the whole expense laid out upon the employment 
+and maintenance both of the workmen and of their employer. 
+
+Artificers, manufacturers, and merchants, can augment the rev- 
+enue and wealth of their society by parsimony only; or, as it is 
+expressed in thissystem, by privation, that is, by depriving them- 
+selves of a part of the funds destined for their own subsistence. 
+They annually reproduce nothing but those funds. Unless, there 
+fore, they annually save some part of them, unless they annually 
+deprive themselves of the enjoyment of some part of them, the 
+revenue and wealth of their society can never be, in the smallest 
+degree, augmented by means of their industry. Farmers and coun- 
+try labourers, on the contrary, may enjoy completely the whole 
+
+
+
+funds destined for their own subsistence, and yet augment, at the 
+sametime, therevenueand wealth of their society. Over and above 
+what isdestined for their own subsistence, their industry annually 
+affordsa neat produce, of which theaugmentation necessarily aug- 
+ments the revenue and wealth of their society. N ations, therefore, 
+which, like France or England, consist in a great measure, of pro- 
+prietors and cultivators, can be enriched by industry and enjoy- 
+ment. Nations, on the contrary, which, like Holland and 
+H amburgh, are composed chiefly of merchants, artificers, and 
+manufacturers, can grow rich only through parsimony and priva- 
+tion. Astheinterest of nationsso differently circumstanced is very 
+different, so is likewise the common character of the people. In 
+those of the former kind, liberality, frankness, and good fellow- 
+ship, naturally makea part of their common character; in the lat- 
+ter, narrowness, meanness, and a selfish disposition, averse to all 
+social pleasure and enjoyment. 
+
+Theunproductiveclass, that of merchants, artificers, and manu- 
+facturers, ismaintained and employed altogether at theexpenseof 
+thetwo other classes, of that of proprietors, and of that of cultiva- 
+tors They furnish it both with the materialsof its work, and with 
+thefund of its subsistence, with the corn and cattle which it con- 
+sumes while it is employed about that work. T he proprietors and 
+cultivators finally pay both the wages of all the workmen of the 
+
+
+
+544 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+unproductive class, and the profits of all their employers. Those 
+workmen and their employers areproperly theservantsof thepro- 
+prietors and cultivators. They are only servants who work without 
+doors, as menial servants work within. Boththeoneandtheother, 
+however, are equally maintained at the expense of the same mas- 
+ters. The labour of both is equally unproductive. It adds nothing 
+to the value of the sum total of the rude produce of the land. 
+Instead of in creasing the value of that sum total, it is a charge and 
+expense which must be paid out of it. 
+
+The unproductive class, however, is not only useful, but greatly 
+useful, to the other two classes. By means of the industry of mer- 
+chants, artificers, and manufacturers, the proprietors and cultiva- 
+tors can purchase both the foreign goods and the manufactured 
+produce of their own country, which they have occasion for, with 
+the produce of a much smaller quantity of their own labour, than 
+what they would be obliged to employ, if they were to attempt, in 
+an awkward and unskilful manner, either to import the one, or to 
+make the other, for their own use. By means of the unproductive 
+class, the cultivators are delivered from many cares, which would 
+otherwise distract their attention from the cultivation of land. The 
+superiority of produce, which in consequenceof thisundivided at- 
+tention, they are enabled to raise, isfully sufficient to paythewhole 
+expen se which the maintenance and employment of theunproduc- 
+
+
+
+tive class costs either the proprietors or themselves. T he i ndustry of 
+merchants, artificers, and manufacturers, though in its own nature 
+altogether unproductive, yet contributes in this manner indirectly 
+to increasetheproduceoftheland.lt increases theproductive pow- 
+ers of productive labour, by leaving it at liberty to confineitself to its 
+proper employment, the cultivation of land; and the plough goes 
+frequently the easier and the better, by means of the labour of the 
+man whose business is most remote from the plough. 
+
+It can never be the interest of the proprietors and cultivators, to 
+restrain or to discourage, in any respect, theindustry of merchants, 
+artificers, and manufacturers. The greater the liberty which this 
+unproductive class enjoys, the greater will be the competition in 
+all the different trades which compose it, and the cheaper will the 
+other two classes be supplied, both with foreign goods and with 
+the manufactured produce of their own country. 
+
+Itcan never be theinterest of the unproductive class to oppress 
+the other two classes. It isthesurplusproduceof theland, or what 
+remains after deducting the maintenance, first of the cultivators, 
+and afterwards of the proprietors, that maintainsand employs the 
+unproductiveclass. Thegreaterthissurplus, thegreater must like- 
+wise be the maintenance and employment of that class. Theestab- 
+lishment of perfect justice, of perfect liberty, and of perfect equal- 
+ity, is the very simple secret which most effectually secures the 
+
+
+
+545 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+highest degree of prosperity to all the three classes. 
+
+The merchants, artificers, and manufacturers of those mercan- 
+tile states, which, like Holland and Hamburgh, consist chiefly of 
+this unproductive class, are in the same manner maintained and 
+employed altogether at theexpenseof theproprietors and cultiva- 
+tors of land. The only difference is, that those proprietors and 
+cultivators are, thegreater part of them, placed at a most inconve- 
+nient distance from the merchants, artificers, and manufacturers, 
+whom they supply with the materials of their work and the fund 
+of their subsistence; are theinhabitantsof other countries, and the 
+subjects of other governments. 
+
+Such mercantile states, however, arenot only useful, but greatly 
+useful, to theinhabitantsof those other countries. They fill up, in 
+some measure, a very important void; and supply the place of the 
+merchants, artificers, and manufacturers, whom the inhabitants 
+of those countries ought to find at home, but whom, from some 
+defect in their policy, they do not find at home. 
+
+Itcan never be the interest of thoselanded nations, if I may call 
+them so, to discourage or distress the industry of such mercantile 
+states, by imposing high dutiesupon their trade, or upon thecom- 
+modities which they furnish. Such duties, by rendering thosecom- 
+modi ties dearer, could serve only to sink the real valueof the sur- 
+plusproduceoftheirown land, with which, or, what comes to the 
+
+
+
+same thing, with the price of which those commodities are pur- 
+chased. Such duties could only serve to discourage theincreaseof 
+that surplus produce, and consequently the improvement and 
+cultivation of their own land. The most effectual expedient, on 
+the contrary, for raising the value of that surplus produce, for en- 
+couraging its increase, and consequently the improvement and 
+cultivation of their own land, would be to allow the most perfect 
+freedom to the trade of all such mercantile nations. 
+
+This perfect freedom of trade would even be the most effectual 
+expedient for supplying them, in due time, with all the artificers, 
+manufacturers, and merchants, whom they wanted at home; and 
+for filling up, in the properest and most advantageous manner, 
+that very important void which they felt there. 
+
+Thecontinualincreaseofthesurplusproduce of their land would, 
+in due time, create a greater capital than what would be employed 
+with theordinary rateof profit in the improvement and cultivation 
+of land; and the surplus part of it would naturally turn itself to the 
+employment of artificers and manufacturers, at home. But these 
+artificers and manufacturers, finding at homeboth the materials of 
+their work and the fund of their subsistence, might immediately, 
+even with much less art and skill be able to work as cheap as the 
+little artificers and manufacturers of such mercantile states, who 
+had both to bring from a greater distance. Even though, from want 
+
+
+
+546 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+of art and skill, they might not for some time be able to work as 
+cheap, yet, finding a market at home, they might beableto sell their 
+work there as cheap as that of the artificers and manufacturers of 
+such mercantile states, which could not be brought to that market 
+but from so great a distance; and as their art and skill improved, 
+they would soon beableto sell itcheaper.Theartificersandmanu- 
+facturersof such mercantile states, therefore, would immediately be 
+rivalled in the market of those landed nations, and soon after un- 
+dersold and justled out of it altogether. The cheapness of the manu- 
+factures of those landed nations, in consequence of the gradual im- 
+provements of art and skill, would, in due time, extend their sale 
+beyond the home market, and carry them to many foreign markets, 
+from which they would, in the same manner, gradually justle out 
+many of the manufacturers of such mercantile nations. 
+
+This continual increase, both of the rude and manufactured 
+produce of those landed nations, would, in due time, create a 
+greater capital than could, with the ordinary rate of profit, be 
+employed either in agriculture or in manufactures. Thesurplusof 
+this capital would naturally turn itself to foreign trade and be 
+employed in exporting, to foreign countries, such parts of the rude 
+and manufactured produce of its own country, as exceeded the 
+demand of the home market. I n the exportation of the produce of 
+their own country, the merchants of a landed nation would have 
+
+
+
+an advantage of the same kind over those of mercantile nations, 
+which its artificers and manufacturers had over the artificers and 
+manufacturers of such nations; the advantage of finding at home 
+that cargo, and those stores and provisions, which theotherswere 
+obliged to seek for at a distance. With inferior art and skill in 
+navigation, therefore, they would beableto sell that cargo as cheap 
+in foreign markets as the merchants of such mercantile nations; 
+and with equal art and skill they would beableto sell it cheaper. 
+They would soon, therefore, rival those mercantile nations in this 
+branch of foreign trade, and, in due time, would justle them out 
+of it altogether. 
+
+According to this liberal and generous system, therefore, the 
+most advantageous method in which a landed nation can raise up 
+artificers, manufacturers, and merchants of itsown, isto grant the 
+most perfect freedom of tradeto theartificers, manufacturers, and 
+merchants of all other nations. It thereby raises the value of the 
+surplus produce of itsown land, of which the continual increase 
+gradually establishes a fund, which, in duetime, necessarily raises 
+up all theartificers, manufacturers, and merchants, whom it has 
+occasion for. 
+
+When a landed nation on thecontrary, oppresses, either by high 
+duties or by prohibitions, thetradeof foreign nations, it necessar- 
+ily hurts itsown interest in two different ways. First, by raising the 
+
+
+
+547 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+price of all foreign goods, and of all sorts of manufactures, it nec- 
+essarily sinks the real valueofthesurplusproduceof itsown land, 
+with which, or, what comes to the same thing, with the price of 
+which, it purchases those foreign goods and manufactures. Sec- 
+ondly, by giving a sort of monopoly of the home market to its 
+own merchants, artificers, and manufacturers, it raises the rate of 
+mercantileand manufacturing profit, in proportion to that of ag- 
+ricultural profit; and, consequently, either drawsfrom agriculture 
+a part of the capital which had before been employed in it, or 
+hindersfrom goingto itapart of what would otherwisehave gone 
+to it. This policy, therefore, discourages agriculture in two differ- 
+ent ways; first, by sinking thereal valueof its produce, and thereby 
+lowering the rate of its profits; and, secondly, by raising the rate of 
+profit in all other employments. Agriculture is rendered less ad- 
+vantageous, and tradeand manufactures more advantageous, than 
+they otherwise would be; and every man is tempted by his own 
+interest to turn, as much as he can, both hiscapital and hisindus- 
+try from the former to the latter employments. 
+
+Though, by this oppressive policy, a landed nation should be able 
+to raiseup artificers, manufacturers, and merchantsof itsown, some- 
+what sooner than it could do by the freedom of trade; a matter, 
+however, which is not a littledoubtful; yet it would raise them up, if 
+one may say so, prematurely, and before it was perfectly ripe for 
+
+
+
+them. By raising up too hastily one species of industry, it would 
+depress another more valuablespeciesof industry. By raising up too 
+hastily a species of industry which duly replaces the stock which 
+employs it, together with the ordinary profit, it would depress a 
+species of industry which, over and above replacing that stock, with 
+its profi t, affords likewisea neat produce, afreerenttothelandlord. 
+It would depress productive labour, by encouraging too hastily that 
+labour which is altogether barren and unproductive. 
+
+In what manner, according to this system, the sum total of the 
+annual produce of the land is distributed among the three classes 
+above mentioned, and in what manner the labour of the unpro- 
+ductive class does no more than replace the value of itsown con- 
+sumption, without increasing in any respect the value of that sum 
+total, is represented by M rQuesnai, the very ingenious and pro- 
+found author of this system, in some arithmetical formularies. 
+The first of these formularies, which, by way of eminence, hepe- 
+culiarly distinguishes by the nameof the Economical Table, repre- 
+sents themanner in which hesupposesthisdistribution takes place, 
+in a state of the most perfect liberty, and, therefore, of the highest 
+prosperity; in a state where theannual produceissuch as to afford 
+the greatest possible neat produce, and where each class enjoys its 
+proper share of the whole annual produce. Some subsequent for- 
+mularies represent the manner in which hesupposesthisdistribu- 
+
+
+
+548 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+tion ismadein different statesof restraint and regulation; in which, 
+either the class of proprietors, or the barren and unproductive 
+class, is more favoured than the class of cultivators; and in which 
+either the one or the other encroaches, more or less, upon the 
+share which ought properly to belong to this productive class. 
+Every such encroachment, every violation of that natural distri- 
+bution, which the most perfect liberty would establish, must, ac- 
+cording to thissystem, necessarily degrade, more or less, from one 
+year to another, the value and sum total of the annual produce, 
+and must necessarily occasion a gradual declension in the real 
+wealth and revenue of the society; a declension, of which the 
+progress must bequicker or slower, according to thedegreeof this 
+encroachment, according as that natural distribution, which the 
+most perfect liberty would establish, ismoreorless violated. Those 
+subsequent formularies represent the different degrees of declen- 
+sion which, according to thissystem, correspond to the different 
+degrees in which this natural distribution of things is violated. 
+
+Some speculative physicians seem to have imagined that the 
+health of the human body could be preserved only by a certain 
+precise regimen of diet and exercise, of which every, the smallest 
+violation, necessarily occasioned some degree of disease or disor- 
+der proportionate to thedegreeof theviolation. Experience, how- 
+ever, would seem to shew, that the human body frequently pre- 
+
+
+
+serves, to all appearance at least, the most perfect state of health 
+under a vast variety of different regimens; even under some which 
+are generally believed to be very far from being perfectly whole- 
+some. But the healthful state of the human body, it would seem, 
+containsin itself someunknown principleof preservation, capable 
+either of preventing or of correcting, in many respects, the bad 
+effects even of a very faulty regimen. M r Q uesnai, who was him- 
+self a physician, and a very speculative physician, seems to have 
+entertained a notion of the same kind concerning the political 
+body, and to haveimagined that it would thrive and prosper only 
+under a certain precise regimen, the exact regimen of perfect lib- 
+erty and perfect justice. He seems not to have considered, that in 
+the political body, the natural effort which every man is continu- 
+ally making to better hisown condition, isa principleof preserva- 
+tion capable of preventing and correcting, in many respects, the 
+bad effects of apolitical economy, in some degree both partial and 
+oppressive. Such a political economy, though it no doubt retards 
+moreor less, isnot always capableof stopping altogether, thenatural 
+progress of a nation towards wealth and prosperity, and still lessof 
+making it go backwards. I f a nation could not prosper without the 
+enjoyment of perfect liberty and perfect justice, thereisnot in the 
+world a nation which could ever have prospered. In the political 
+body, however, the wisdom of nature has fortunately made ample 
+
+
+
+549 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+provision for remedying many of the bad effects of the folly and 
+injustice of man; it the same manner as it has done in the natural 
+body for remedying those of his sloth and intemperance. 
+
+The capital error of this system, however, seems to lie in its 
+representing the class of artificers, manufacturers, and merchants, 
+as altogether barren and unproductive. The following observa- 
+tions may serve to shew the impropriety of this representation:— 
+
+First, thisdass, it is acknowledged, reproduces annually thevalue 
+of itsown annual consumption, and continues, at least, th e exist- 
+ence of the stock or capital which maintainsand employsit. But, 
+upon this account alone, the denomination of barren or unpro- 
+ductive should seem to be very improperly applied to it. Weshould 
+not call a marriage barren or unproductive, though it produced 
+only a son and a daughter, to replace the father and mother, and 
+though it did not increase the number of the human species, but 
+only continued it asitwas before. Farmers and country labourers, 
+indeed, over and above the stock which maintainsand employs 
+them, reproduce annually a neat produce, a free rent to the land- 
+lord. Asa marriage which affordsthree children is certainly more 
+productive than onewhich affordsonly two, so thelabour of farm- 
+ers and country labourers is certainly more productive than that 
+of merchants, artificers, and manufacturers. Thesuperior produce 
+of the one class, however, does not, render the other barren or 
+
+
+
+unproductive. 
+
+Secondly, it seems, on thisaccount, altogether improper to con- 
+sider artificers, manufacturers, and merchants, in the same light 
+as menial servants. T he labour of menial servants does not con- 
+tinue the existence of thefund which maintainsand employs them. 
+T heir maintenance and employment is altogether at the expense 
+of their masters, and the work which they perform is not of a 
+nature to repay that expense. That work consists in services which 
+perish generally in the very instant of their performance, and does 
+not fix or realize itself in any vendible commodity, which can re- 
+place the value of their wages and maintenance. Thelabour, on 
+the contrary, of artificers, manufacturers, and merchants, natu- 
+rally does fix and realize itself in some such vendible commodity. 
+It is upon this account that, in the chapter in which I treat of 
+productive and unproductive labour, I have classed artificers, manu- 
+facturers, and merchants among the productive labourers, and 
+menial servants among the barren or unproductive. 
+
+Thirdly, it seems, upon every supposition, improper to say, that 
+the labour of artificers, manufacturers, and merchants, does not 
+increase the real revenue of the society. Though we should sup- 
+pose, for example, as it seems to be supposed in this system, that 
+the value of the daily, monthly, and yearly consumption of this 
+class was exactly equal to that of its daily, monthly, and yearly 
+
+
+
+550 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+production; yet it would not from thence follow, that its labour 
+added nothing to the real revenue, to the real value of the annual 
+produce of the land and labour of the society. An artificer, for 
+example, who, in the first six months after harvest, executes ten 
+pounds worth of work, though he should, in the same time, con- 
+sume ten pounds worth of corn and other necessaries, yet really 
+adds the value of ten pounds to the annual produce of the land 
+and labour of the society. W hile he has been consuming a half- 
+yearly revenue of ten pounds worth of corn and other necessaries, 
+he has produced an equal value of work, capable of purchasing, 
+either to himself, or to some other person, an equal half-yearly 
+revenue. The value, therefore, of what has been consumed and 
+produced during these six months, is equal, not to ten, but to 
+twenty pounds. It is possible, indeed, that no more than ten pounds 
+worth of this value may ever have existed at any one moment of 
+time. But if the ten pounds worth of corn and other necessaries 
+which were consumed by the artificer, had been consumed by a 
+soldier, or by a menial servant, thevalueof that part of theannual 
+produce which existed at the end of the six months, would have 
+been ten pounds lessthan it actually isin consequenceofthelabour 
+of the artificer. T hough the value of what the artificer produces, 
+therefore, should not, at any one moment of time, be supposed 
+greater than thevalueheconsumes, yet, at every moment of time, 
+
+
+
+the actually existing value of goods in the market is, in conse- 
+quence of what he produces, greater than it otherwise would be. 
+
+W hen the patrons of this system assert, that the consumption 
+of artificers, manufacturer's, and merchants, is equal to the value 
+of what they produce, they probably mean no more than that 
+their revenue, or thefund destined for their consumption, is equal 
+to it. But if they had expressed themselves more accurately, and 
+only asserted, that the revenue of this class was equal to the value 
+of what they produced, it might readily have occurred to thereader, 
+that what would naturally be saved out of this revenue, must nec- 
+essarily increase more or less the real wealth of the society. I n or- 
+der, therefore, to make out something like an argument, it was 
+necessary that they should express themselves as they have done; 
+and thisargument, even supposing things actually were as it seems 
+to presume them to be, turns out to be a very inconclusive one. 
+
+Fourthly, farmers and country labourers can no more augment, 
+without parsimony, the real revenue, the annual produce of the 
+land and labour of their society, than artificers, manufacturers, 
+and merchants. Theannual produce of theland and labour of any 
+society can be augmented only in two ways; either, first, by some 
+improvement in the productive powers of the useful labour actu- 
+ally maintained within it; or, secondly, by some increase in the 
+quantity of that labour. 
+
+
+
+551 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+The improvement in the productive powers of useful labour 
+depends, first, upon the improvement in the ability of the work- 
+man; and, secondly, upon that of the machinery with which he 
+works. But the labour of artificers and manufacturers, as it is ca- 
+pable of being more subdivided, and the labour of each workman 
+reduced to a greater simplicity of operation, than that of farmers 
+and country labourers; so it is likewise capable of both these sorts 
+of improvement in a much higher degree {See book i chap. 1.} In 
+this respect, therefore, the class of cultivators can have no sort of 
+advantage over that of artificers and manufacturers. 
+
+Theincreasein the quantity of useful labour actually employed 
+within any society must depend altogether upon the increase of 
+thecapital which employsit; and theincreaseof that capital, again, 
+must be exactly equal to the amount of the savings from the rev- 
+enue, either of the particular persons who manage and direct the 
+employment of that capital, or of some other persons, who lend it 
+to them. If merchants, artificers, and manufacturers are, as this 
+system seems to suppose, naturally more inclined to parsimony 
+and saving than proprietors and cultivators, they are, so far, more 
+likely to augment the quantity of useful labour employed within 
+their society, and consequently to increase its real revenue, the 
+annual produce of its land and labour. 
+
+Fifthly and lastly, though therevenueoftheinhabitants of every 
+
+
+
+country was supposed to consist altogether, as this system seems 
+to suppose, in the quantity of subsistence which their industry 
+could procure to them; yet, even upon this supposition, the rev- 
+enue of a trading and manufacturing country must, other things 
+being equal, always be much greater than that of one without 
+trade or manufactures. By means of trade and manufactures, a 
+greater quantity of subsistence can be annually imported into a 
+particular country, than what its own lands, in the actual state of 
+their cultivation, could afford. Theinhabitantsofatown, though 
+they frequently possess no lands of their own, yet draw to them- 
+selves, by their industry, such a quantity of the rude produce of 
+the lands of other people, as supplies them, not only with the 
+materials of their work, but with the fund of their subsistence. 
+What a town always is with regard to the country in its 
+neighbourhood, one independent state or country may frequently 
+be with regard to other independent states or countries. It is thus 
+that H olland draws a great part of its subsistence from other coun- 
+tries; live cattle from Holstein and Jutland, and corn from almost 
+all the different countries of Europe. A small quantity of manu- 
+factured produce, purchases a great quantity of rude produce. A 
+trading and manufacturing country, therefore, naturally purchases, 
+with a small part of its manufactured produce, a great part of the 
+rudeproduceof other countries; while, on the contrary, a country 
+
+
+
+552 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+without trade and manufactures is generally obliged to purchase, 
+at the expense of a great part of its rude produce, a very smal I part 
+of the manufactured produce of other countries. T he one exports 
+what can subsist and accommodate but a very few, and imports 
+the subsistence and accommodation of a great number. The other 
+exports the accommodation and subsistence of a great number, 
+and imports that of a very few only. The inhabitants of the one 
+must always enjoy a much greater quantity of subsistence than 
+what their own lands, in theactual stateof their cultivation, could 
+afford. The inhabitants of the other must always enjoy a much 
+smaller quantity. 
+
+Thissystem, however, with all its imperfections, isperhapsthe 
+nearest approximation to the truth that has yet been published 
+upon the subject of political economy; and is upon that account, 
+well worth theconsideration of every man who wishesto examine 
+with attention the principles of that very important science. 
+Though in representing the labour which is employed upon land 
+astheonly productive labour, the notions which it inculcates are, 
+perhaps, too narrow and confined; yet in representing the wealth 
+of nationsas consisting, not in theunconsumablerichesof money, 
+but in the consumable goods annually reproduced by the labour 
+ofthesociety, and in representing perfect liberty astheonly effec- 
+tual expedientfor renderingthisannual reproduction thegreatest 
+
+
+
+possible, its doctrine seems to be in every respect as just as it is 
+generousand liberal. Its followers are very numerous; and as men 
+are fond of paradoxes, and of appearing to understand what sur- 
+passesthecomprehensionsof ordinary people, theparadox which 
+it maintains, concerning the unproductive nature of manufactur- 
+ing labour, has not, perhaps, contributed a little to increase the 
+number of its admirers. They have for some years past made a 
+pretty considerable sect, distinguished in the French republic of 
+letters by the name of the Economists. Their works have certainly 
+been of some service to their country; not only by bringing into 
+general discussion, many subjects which had never been well ex- 
+amined before, but by influencing, in some measure, the public 
+administration in favour of agriculture. It has been in consequence 
+of their representations, accordingly, that the agriculture of France 
+has been delivered from several of the oppressions which it before 
+laboured under. The term, during which such a lease can be 
+granted, as will be valid against every future purchaser or propri- 
+etor of the land, has been prolonged from nine to twenty-seven 
+years.Theancientprovincial restraints upon thetransportation of 
+corn from one province of the kingdom to another, have been 
+entirely taken away; and the liberty of exporting it to all foreign 
+countries, has been established as the common law of the king- 
+dom in all ordinary cases. This sect, in their works, which are very 
+
+
+
+553 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+numerous, and which treat not only of what is properly called 
+Political Economy or of the nature and causes or the wealth of 
+nations, but of every other branch of the system of civil govern- 
+ment, all follow implicitly, and without any sensiblevariation, the 
+doctrineof M r. Qttesnai. There is, upon thisaccount, little vari- 
+ety in the greater part of their works. The most distinct and best 
+connected account of this doctrine is to be found in a little book 
+written by M r. M ercier de la Riviere, some time intendant of 
+M artinico, entitled, The natural and essential Order of Political 
+Societies. The admiration of thiswholesect for their master, who 
+was himself a man of the greatest modesty and simplicity, is not 
+inferior to that of any of theancientphilosophersforthefounders 
+of their respective systems. There have been since the world be- 
+gan,' says a very diligent and respectable author, the M arquisde 
+M irabeau, 'threegreatinventionswhich have principally given sta- 
+bility to political societies, independent of many other inventions 
+which have enriched and adorned them.Thefirst istheinvention 
+of writing, which alone gives human nature the power of trans- 
+mitting, without alteration, its laws, its contracts, its annals, and 
+itsdiscoveries.Thesecond istheinvention of money, which binds 
+together all the relations between civilized societies. The third is 
+theeconomical table, theresult of theother two, which completes 
+them both by perfecting their object; the great discovery of our 
+
+
+
+age, but of which our posterity will reap the benefit.' 
+
+As the political economy of the nations of modern Europe has 
+been more favourable to manufactures and foreign trade, the in- 
+dustry of the towns, than to agriculture, the industry of the coun- 
+try; so that of other nations has followed a different plan, and has 
+been more favourable to agriculture than to manufactures and 
+foreign trade. 
+
+The policy of China favours agriculture more than all other em- 
+ployments. In China, the condition of a labourer is said to be as 
+much superior to that of an artificer, asin most partsof Europe that 
+of an artificer isto that of a labourer. In China, thegreat ambition 
+of every man isto get possession of a little bit of land, either in 
+property or in lease; and leases are there said to be granted upon 
+very moderate terms, and to be sufficiently secured to the lessees 
+T heC hinesehavelittlerespect for foreign trade. Your beggarly com- 
+merce! was the language in which the mandarins of Pekin used to 
+talk to M r. De Lange, the Russian envoy, concerning it {See the 
+Journal of M r. DeLange, in BeN'sTravels, vol. ii. p. 258, 276, 293.}. 
+Except with Japan, the Chinese carry on, themselves, and in their 
+own bottoms, little or no foreign trade; and it is only into one or 
+two ports of their kingdom that they even admit the ships of for- 
+eign nations. Foreign trade, therefore, is, in China, every way con- 
+fined within a much narrower circle than that to which it would 
+
+
+
+554 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+naturally extend itself, if more freedom was allowed to it, either in 
+their own ships, or in those of foreign nations. 
+
+M anufactures, asin asmall bulk they frequently contain a great 
+value, and can upon that account be transported at less expense 
+from one country to another than most parts of rude produce, 
+are, in almost all countries, the principal support of foreign trade. 
+In countries, besides, less extensive, and less favourably circum- 
+stanced for inferior commerce than China, they generally require 
+the support of foreign trade. Without an extensive foreign mar- 
+ket, they could not well flourish, either in countries so moderately 
+extensive as to afford but a narrow home market, or in countries 
+where thecommunication between oneprovinceand anotherwas 
+so difficult, as to render it impossibleforthegoods of any particu- 
+lar place to enjoy thewholeof that home market which thecoun- 
+try could afford. Theperfection of manufacturing industry, it must 
+be remembered, depends altogether upon the division of labour; 
+and the degree to which the division of labour can be introduced 
+into any manufacture, is necessarily regulated, it has already been 
+shewn, by the extent of the market. But the great extent of the 
+empire of China, the vast multitude of its inhabitants, the variety 
+of climate, and consequently of productions in its different prov- 
+inces, and the easy communication by means of water-carriage 
+between the greater part of them, render the home market of that 
+
+
+
+country of so great extent, as to bealonesufficient to support very 
+great manufactures, and to admit of very considerable subdivi- 
+sions of labour. The home market of Chinais, perhaps, in extent, 
+not much inferior to the market of all the different countries of 
+Europe put together. A more extensive foreign trade, however, 
+which to this great home market added the foreign market of all 
+the rest of the world, especially if any considerable part of this 
+trade was carried on in Chinese ships, could scarce fail to increase 
+very much the manufactures of China, and to improve very much 
+the productive powers of its manufacturing industry. By a more 
+extensive navigation, theChinese would naturally learn theartof 
+using and constructing, themselves, all thedifferent machinesmade 
+useof in other countries, as well astheother improvements of art 
+and industry which are practised in all thedifferent parts of the 
+world. Upon their present plan, they have little opportunity of 
+improving themselves by the example of any other nation, except 
+that of the Japanese. 
+
+The policy of ancient Egypt, too, and that of the Gen too gov- 
+ernment of I ndostan, seem to havefavoured agriculture more than 
+all other employments. 
+
+Both in ancient Egypt and I ndostan, the whole body of the 
+people was divided into different casts or tribes each of which was 
+confined, from father to son, to a particular employment, or class 
+
+
+
+555 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+of employments. T he son of a priest was necessarily a priest; the 
+son of a soldier, a soldier; the son of a labourer, a labourer; the son 
+of a weaver, a weaver; the son of a tailor, a tailor, etc. In both 
+countries, the cast of the priests holds the highest rank, and that 
+of thesoldiersthenext; and in both countries thecast of thefarm- 
+ersand labourers was superior to thecasts of merchants and manu- 
+facturers. 
+
+The government of both countries was particularly attentive to 
+the interest of agriculture. T he works constructed by the ancient 
+sovereigns of Egypt, for the proper distribution of the waters of 
+the N ile, were famous in antiquity, and the ruined remains of 
+some of them are still the admiration of travellers. Those of the 
+same kind which were constructed by the ancient sovereigns of 
+I ndostan, for the proper distribution of the waters of the Ganges, 
+as well as of many other rivers, though they have been less cel- 
+ebrated, seem to have been equally great. Both countries, accord- 
+ingly, though subject occasionally to dearths, have been famous 
+for their great fertility. Though both were extremely populous, 
+yet, in years of moderate plenty, they were both able to export 
+great quantities of grain to their neighbours. 
+
+T he ancient Egyptians had a superstitious aversion to the sea; 
+and astheGentoo religion does not permit its followers to light a 
+fire, nor consequently to dress any victuals, upon thewater, it, in 
+
+
+
+effect, prohibitsthem from all distant sea voyages. Both theEgyp- 
+tiansand Indians must havedepended almost altogether upon the 
+navigation of other nations for the exportation of their surplus 
+produce; and this dependency, as it must have confined the mar- 
+ket, so it must have discouraged the increase of this surplus pro- 
+duce. It must have discouraged, too, the increase of the manufac- 
+tured produce, more than that of the rude produce. M anufactures 
+require a much more extensive market than the most important 
+parts of the rude produce of the land. A single shoemaker will 
+makemorethan 300 pai rsof shoes in theyear; and hisown family 
+will not, perhaps, wear out six pairs. Unless, therefore, he has the 
+custom of, at least, 50 such families ashisown, he can not dispose 
+of the whole product of hisown labour. T he most numerous class 
+of artificers will seldom, in a large country, makemorethan one 
+in 50, oronein alOO, of thewholenumber of families contained 
+in it. But in such largecountries, asFranceand England, thenum- 
+ber of people employed in agriculture has, by some authors been 
+computed at a half, by others at a third and by no author that I 
+know of, at less that a fifth of the whole inhabitants of the coun- 
+try. But as the produce of the agriculture of both France and En- 
+gland is, thefar greater part of it, consumed at home, each person 
+employed in it must, according to these computations, require 
+little more than the custom of one, two, or, at most, of four such 
+
+
+
+556 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+families ashisown, in order to dispose of the whole produce of his 
+own labour. Agriculture, therefore, can support itself under the 
+discouragement of a confined market much better than manufac- 
+tures. In both ancient Egypt and Indostan, indeed, the confine- 
+ment of the foreign market wasin some measure compensated by 
+the conveniency of many inland navigations, which opened, in 
+the most advantageous manner, the whole extent of the home 
+market to every part of the produce of every different district of 
+those countries. The great extent of I ndostan, too, rendered the 
+home market of that country very great, and sufficient to support 
+a great variety of manufactures. But the small extent of ancient 
+Egypt, which wasnever equal to England, must at all times, have 
+rendered the home market of that country too narrow for sup- 
+portingany great variety of manufactures. Bengal accordingly, the 
+province of Indostan which commonly exports thegreatest quan- 
+tity of rice, has always been more remarkable for the exportation 
+of a great variety of manufactures, than for that of its grain. An- 
+cient Egypt, on the contrary, though it exported some manufac- 
+tures, fine linen in particular, as well as some other goods, was 
+always most distinguished for its great exportation of grain. It was 
+long the granary of the Roman empire. 
+
+The sovereigns of China, of ancient Egypt, and of the different 
+kingdoms into which Indostan has, at different times, been di- 
+
+
+
+vided, havealwaysderivedthewhole, orbyfarthemostconsider- 
+ablepart, of their revenue, from somesortof land tax or land rent. 
+This land tax, or land rent, likethetithein Europe, consisted in a 
+certain proportion, a fifth, it is said, of the produce of the land, 
+which was either delivered in kind, or paid in money, according to 
+a certain valuation, and which, therefore, varied from year to year, 
+accordingto all thevariationsof theproduce. It wasnatural, there- 
+fore, that the sovereigns of those countries should be particularly 
+attentive to the interests of agriculture, upon the prosperity or 
+declension of which immediately depended theyearly increase or 
+diminution of their own revenue. 
+
+The policy of theancient republics of Greece, and that of Rome, 
+though it honoured agriculture more than manufactures or for- 
+eign trad e, yet seem s rath er to h ave d i sco u raged th e I atter em pi oy- 
+ments, than to have given any direct or intentional encourage- 
+ment to the former. In several of the ancient states of Greece, for- 
+eign trade was prohibited altogether; and in several others, the 
+employments of artificers and manufacturers were considered as 
+hurtful to the strength and agility of the human body, as render- 
+ing it incapable of those habits which their military and gymnas- 
+tic exercises endeavoured to form in it, and as thereby disqualify- 
+ing it, more or less, for undergoing the fatigues and encountering 
+the dangers of war. Such occupations were considered as fit only 
+
+
+
+557 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+for slaves, and the free citizens of the states were prohibited from 
+exercising them. Even in those states where no such prohibition 
+took place, as in Rome and Athens, the great body of the people 
+were in effect excluded from all the trades which are now com- 
+monly exercised by the lower sort of the inhabitants of towns. 
+Such tradeswere, at Athensand Rome, all occupied by theslaves 
+of the rich, who exercised them for the benefit of their masters, 
+whose wealth, power, and protection, made it almost impossible 
+for a poor freeman to find a market for his work, when it came 
+into competition with that of the slaves of the rich. Slaves, how- 
+ever, are very seldom inventive; and all the most important im- 
+provements, either in machinery, or in the arrangement and dis- 
+tribution of work, which facilitate and abridge labour have been 
+the discoveries of freemen. Should a slave propose any improve- 
+ment of this kind, his master would be very apt to consider the 
+proposal as the suggestion of laziness, and of a desire to save his 
+own labour at the master's expense. The poor slave, instead of 
+reward would probably meet with much abuse, perhaps with some 
+punishment. In the manufactures carried on by slaves, therefore, 
+more labour must generally have been employed to execute the 
+same quantity of work, than in those carried on by freemen. The 
+work of thefarmer must, upon that account, generally have been 
+dearer than that of the I atter.T he H ungarian mines, it isremarked 
+
+
+
+by M r. M ontesquieu, though not richer, have always been wrought 
+with less expense, and therefore with more profit, than theTurk- 
+ish minesin their neighbourhood. TheTurkish mines are wrought 
+by slaves; and thearmsof those slaves are theonly machines which 
+theTurks have ever thought of employing.TheH ungarian mines 
+are wrought by freemen, who employ a great deal of machinery, 
+by which they facilitate and abridge their own labour. From the 
+very little that is known about the price of manufactures in the 
+times of the Greeks and Romans, itwould appear that those of the 
+finer sort were excessively dear. Silk sold for its weight in gold. It 
+was not, indeed, in those times an European manufacture; and as 
+it was all brought from the East I ndies, thedistance of thecarriage 
+may in some measure account for the greatness of the price. T he 
+price, however, which alady, itissaid, would sometimes pay for a 
+piece of very fine linen, seems to have been equally extravagant; 
+and aslinen wasalwayseitheran European, or at farthest, an Egyp- 
+tian manufacture, this high price can beaccountedforonlybythe 
+great expenseofthelabour which must have been employed about 
+It, and the expense of this labour again could arise from nothing 
+but the awkwardness of the machinery which is made use of. The 
+priceof finewoollens, too, though not quiteso extravagant, seems, 
+however, to have been much above that of the present times. Some 
+cloths, we are told by Pliny {P I i n . 1. ix.c.39.}, dyed in a particular 
+
+
+
+558 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+manner, cost a hundred denarii, or £3:6s:8d. the pound weight. 
+Others, dyed in another manner, cost a thousand denarii thepound 
+weight, or£33:6s:8d.TheRoman pound, it must be remembered, 
+contained onlytwelve of our avoirdupoisounces. Thishigh price, 
+indeed, seems to have been principally owing to thedye. But had 
+not the cloths themselves been much dearer than any which are 
+made in the present times, so very expensive a dye would not 
+probably have been bestowed upon them.Thedisproportion would 
+have been too great between the value of the accessory and that of 
+the principal. The price mentioned by the same author {Plin. 1. 
+viii.c.48.}, of some triclinaria, a sort of woollen pillows or cush- 
+ions made use of to lean upon as they reclined upon their couches 
+at table, passes all credibility; someofthem being said to have cost 
+more than £30,000, others more than £300,000. This high price, 
+too, is not said to have arisen from the dye. In the dress of the 
+people of fashion of both sexes, there seems to have been much 
+less variety, it is observed by Dr. Arbuthnot, in ancient than in 
+modern times; and thevery little variety which we find in that of 
+theancient statues, confirmshisobservation. He infers from this, 
+that their dress must, upon the whole, have been cheaper than 
+ours; but the conclusion does not seem to follow. W hen the ex- 
+pense of fashionable dress is very great, the variety must be very 
+small. But when, by the improvements in the productive powers 
+
+
+
+of manufacturing art and industry, the expense of any one dress 
+comes to be very moderate, the variety will naturally be very great. 
+Therich, not being ableto distinguish themselves by theexpense 
+of any one dress, will naturally endeavour to do so by the multi- 
+tude and variety of their dresses. 
+
+The greatest and most important branch of the commerce of 
+every nation, it has already been observed, is that which is carried 
+on between the inhabitants of thetown and those of the country. 
+T he inhabitants of thetown draw from the country the rude pro- 
+duce, which constitutes both the materials of their work and the 
+fund of their subsistence; and they pay for this rude produce, by 
+sending back to the country a certain portion of it manufactured 
+and prepared for immediate use. The trade which is carried on 
+between these two different sets of people, consists ultimately in a 
+certain quantity of rude produce exchanged for a certain quantity 
+of manufactured produce. The dearer the latter, therefore, the 
+cheaper the former; and whatever tends in any country to raise 
+the price of manufactured produce, tends to lower that of the 
+rude produce of the land, and thereby to discourage agriculture. 
+The smaller the quantity of manufactured produce, which any 
+given quantity of rudeproduce, or, what comes to thesamething, 
+which the price of any given quantity of rude produce, is capable 
+of purchasing, the smaller the exchangeable value of that given 
+
+
+
+559 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+quantity of rude produce; the smaller the encouragement which 
+either the landlord has to increase its quantity by improving, or 
+the farmer by cultivating the land. Whatever, besides, tends to 
+diminish in any country thenumber of artificers and manufactur- 
+ers, tends to diminish the home market, the most important of all 
+markets, fortherudeproduceof theland, and thereby still further 
+to discourage agriculture. 
+
+T hose systems, therefore, which preferring agriculture to all other 
+employments, in order to promote it, impose restraints upon 
+manufactures and foreign trade, act contrary to the very end which 
+they propose, and indirectly discourage that very speciesof indus- 
+try which they mean to promote. They are so far, perhaps, more 
+inconsistent than even the mercantile system. That system, by 
+encouraging manufactures and foreign trade more than agricul- 
+ture, turns a certain portion of the capital of the society, from 
+supporting a more advantageous, to support a less advantageous 
+speciesof industry. But still it really, and in the end, encourages 
+that speciesof industry which it means to promote. Those agri- 
+cultural systems, on the contrary, really, and in the end, discour- 
+age their own favourite species of industry. 
+
+It is thus that every system which endeavours, either, by ex- 
+traordinary encouragements to draw towards a particular species 
+of industry a greater share of the capital of the society than what 
+
+
+
+would naturally go to it, or, by extraordinary restraints, to force 
+from a particular speciesof industry some share of the capital which 
+would otherwise be employed in it, is, in reality, subversive of the 
+great purpose which it means to promote. It retards, instead of 
+accelerating the progress of the society towards real wealth and 
+greatness; and diminishes, instead of increasing, the real value of 
+the annual produce of its land and labour. 
+
+All systems, either of preference or of restraint, therefore, being 
+thus completely taken away, the obvious and simple system of 
+natural liberty establishes itself of its own accord. Every man, as 
+long as he does not violate the laws of j ustice, is left perfectly free 
+to pursue his own interest his own way, and to bring both his 
+industry and capital into competition with thoseof any other man, 
+or order of men. The sovereign is completely discharged from a 
+duty, in the attempting to perform which he must always be ex- 
+posed to innumerable delusions, and for the proper performance 
+of which, no human wisdom or knowledge could ever be suffi- 
+cient; the duty of superintending the industry of private people, 
+and of directing it towards the employments most suitable to the 
+interests of the society. According to thesystem of natural liberty, 
+the sovereign has only three duties to attend to; three duties of 
+great importance, indeed, but plain and intelligible to common 
+understandings: first, the duty of protecting the society from the 
+
+
+
+560 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+violence and invasion of other independent societies; secondly, 
+the duty of protecting, as far as possible, every member of the 
+society from theinjusticeor oppression of every other member of 
+it, or the duty of establishing an exact administration of justice; 
+and, thirdly, the duty of erecting and maintaining certain public 
+works, and certain public institutions, which it can never be for 
+the interest of any individual, or small number of individuals to 
+erect and maintain; because the profit could never repay the ex- 
+penseto any individual, or small number of individuals, though it 
+may frequently do much more than repay it to a great society. 
+
+Theproper performanceof those several duties of thesovereign 
+necessarily supposesa certain expense; and thisexpense again nec- 
+essarily requ ires a certain revenue to support it. In the following 
+book, therefore, I shall endeavour to explain, first, what are the 
+necessary expenses of thesovereign or commonwealth; and which 
+of those expenses ought to be defrayed by the general contribu- 
+tion of the whole society; and which of them, by that of some 
+particular part only, or of some particular members of thesociety: 
+secondly, what are the different methods in which thewholesoci- 
+ety may be made to contribute towards defraying the expenses 
+incumbent on the whole society; and what are the principal ad- 
+vantages and inconvenienciesof each of those methods: and thirdly, 
+what are the reasons and causes which have induced almost all 
+
+
+
+modern governments to mortgage some part of this revenue, or to 
+contract debts; and what have been the effects of those debts upon 
+the real wealth, the annual produce of the land and labour of the 
+society. The following book, therefore, will naturally be divided 
+into three chapters. 
+
+
+
+561 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+APPENDIX TO BOOK IV 
+
+The two following accounts are subjoined, in order to illustrate 
+and confirm what is said in the fifth chapter of the fourth book, 
+concerning theTonnage Bounty to theW hit-herring Fishery. The 
+reader, I believe, maydepend upon the accuracy of both accounts. 
+
+
+
+1779 206 
+
+1780 181 
+
+1781 135 
+
+
+
+55,194 29,367 
+48,315 19,885 
+33,992 16,593 
+
+
+
+15,287 
+13,445 12 6 
+9,613 15 6 
+
+
+
+Totals 2,186 550,943 378,347 £165,463 14 
+
+
+
+Sea-sticks 
+
+
+
+An account of Busses fitted out in Scotland for eleven Years, with 
+the N umber of empty Barrels carried out, and the N umber of 
+Barrels of H errings caught; also the Bounty, at a M edium, on each 
+Barrel of Sea-sricks, and on each Barrel when fully packed. 
+
+
+
+378,347 Bounty, at a medium, for each 
+barrel of sea- sticks, £0 8 2 x k 
+But a barrel of sea-sticks 
+being only reckoned two thirds 
+of a barrel fully packed, one 
+third to be deducted, which 
+Years Numberof EmptyBarrels Barrelsof Her- Bountypaidon V 3 deducted 126,115 brings the bounty to £0 12 3 3 /4 
+
+Barrels fully packed 252,231 
+
+And if the herrings are exported, there is besides a 
+
+premium of £ 2 8 
+
+So the bounty paid by government in money for each 
+
+barrel is £ 14 ll 3 / 4 
+
+But if to this, the duty of the salt usually taken credit for as ex- 
+pended in curing each barrel, which at a medium, is, of foreign, 
+one bushel and one-fourth of a bushel, at 10s. a-bushel, be added, 
+
+
+
+B 
+
+
+usses carried out 
+
+
+rings caught 
+
+
+the Busses 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+£. s. 
+
+
+d. 
+
+
+1771 
+
+
+29 
+
+
+5,948 
+
+
+2,832 
+
+
+2,885 
+
+
+1772 
+
+
+168 
+
+
+41,316 
+
+
+22,237 
+
+
+11,055 7 6 
+
+
+1773 
+
+
+190 
+
+
+42,333 
+
+
+42,055 
+
+
+12,510 8 6 
+
+
+1774 
+
+
+240 
+
+
+59,303 
+
+
+56,365 
+
+
+26,932 2 6 
+
+
+1775 
+
+
+275 
+
+
+69,144 
+
+
+52,879 
+
+
+19,315 15 
+
+
+1776 
+
+
+294 
+
+
+76,329 
+
+
+51,863 
+
+
+21,290 7 6 
+
+
+1777 
+
+
+240 
+
+
+62,679 
+
+
+43,313 
+
+
+17,592 2 6 
+
+
+1778 
+
+
+220 
+
+
+56,390 
+
+
+40,958 
+
+
+16,316 2 6 
+
+
+
+562 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+viz 12 6 
+
+the bounty on each barrel would amount to 
+
+
+
+£1 7 5 3 / 4 
+
+
+
+If the herrings are cured with British salt, it will stand thus, viz. 
+Bounty as before £ 14 ll 3 / 4 
+
+But if to this bounty, the duty on two bushels of Scotch salt, at 
+ls.6d. per bushel, supposed to be the quantity, at a medium, used 
+in curing each barrel is added, viz. 3 
+
+The bounty on each barrel will amount to £ 17 11% 
+
+And when buss herrings are entered for home consumption in 
+Scotland, and pay the shilling a barrel of duty, the bounty stands 
+thus, to wit, as before £ 12 3 3 /4 
+
+From which theshilling a barrel isto bededucted 10 
+
+£0 11 3 3 /4 
+
+But to that there isto be added again, theduty of the foreign salt 
+used curing a barrel of herring viz 12 6 
+
+So that the premium allowed for each barrel of her- 
+rings entered for home consumption is £13 9 3 /4 
+
+
+
+£0 12 3 3 / 4 
+From which deduct Is. a-barrel, paid at the time they are entered 
+for home consumption 10 
+
+£0 11 3 3 / 4 
+
+But if to the bounty, the the duty on two bushel of Scotch salt, at 
+ls.6d. per bushel supposed to be the quantity, at a medium, used 
+in curing each barrel, is added, viz 3 
+
+the premium for each barrel entered for home consumption will 
+be £ 1 14 3 3 /4 
+
+Though the loss of duties upon herrings exported cannot, per- 
+haps, properly be considered as bounty, that upon herrings en- 
+tered for home consumption certainly may. 
+
+An account of the Q uantity of Foreign Salt imported into Scot- 
+land, and of Scotch Salt delivered D uty-freefrom theWorks there, 
+for the Fishery, from the 5th. of April 1771 to the 5th. of April 
+1782 with the M edium of both for one Year. 
+
+
+
+If the herrings are cured in British salt, it will stand as follows viz. 
+Bounty on each barrel brought in by the busses, as above 
+
+
+
+563 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+Foreign Salt Scotch Salt delivered 
+
+
+
+PERIOD imported 
+
+
+from the Works 
+
+
+Bushels 
+
+
+Bushels 
+
+
+From 5th. April 1771 to 
+
+
+
+
+5th. April 1782 936,974 
+
+
+168,226 
+
+
+Medium for one year 85,159V2 
+
+
+15,293y4 
+
+
+
+It isto be observed, that the bushel of foreign salt weighs 48lbs., 
+that of British weighs 56lbs. only. 
+
+
+
+BOOKV 
+
+OF THE REVENUE OF THE SOVEREIGN 
+ORCOMMONWEALTH 
+
+CHAPTER I 
+
+OFTHE EXPENSESOFTHE SOVEREIGN 
+ORCOMMONWEALTH 
+
+PART I 
+
+
+
+f the Expense of D efence 
+
+The first duty of the sovereign, that of protecting the 
+society from the violence and invasion of other inde- 
+pendent societies, can be performed only by means of a 
+military force. But the expense both of preparing this military 
+forcein time of peace, and of employing itin time of war, isvery 
+different in the different states of society, in the different periods 
+of improvement. 
+
+Among nations of hunters, the lowest and rudest state of soci- 
+ety, such as we find it among the native tribes of North America, 
+
+
+
+564 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+every man is a warrior, as well as a hunter. When he goes to war, 
+either to defend hissociety, or to revenge the injuries which have 
+been done to it by other societies, hemaintainshimself byhisown 
+labour, in the same manner as when he lives at home. Hissociety 
+(for in this state of things there is properly neither sovereign nor 
+commonwealth) is at no sort of expense, either to prepare him for 
+the field, or to maintain him whileheisin it. 
+
+Among nations of shepherds, a more advanced state of society, 
+such as we find it among theTartars and Arabs, every man is, in 
+thesame manner, a warrior. Such nationshavecommonly no fixed 
+habitation, but liveeither in tents, or in a sort of covered waggons, 
+which are easily transported from place to placeThewholetribe, 
+or nation, changes its situation according to the different seasons 
+of theyear, as well as according to other accidents. W hen its herds 
+and flocks haveconsumedtheforageof one part of thecountry, it 
+removes to another, and from that to a third. In the dry season, it 
+comes down to the banks of the rivers; in the wet season, it retires 
+to the upper country. W hen such a nation goes to war, the war- 
+riors will not trust their herds and flocks to the feeble defence of 
+their old men, their women and children; and their old men, their 
+women and children, will not beleft behind without defence, and 
+without subsistence. The whole nation, besides, being accustomed 
+to a wandering life, even in timeof peace, easily takes the field in 
+
+
+
+time of war. Whether it marches as an army, or moves about as a 
+company of herdsmen, the way of life is nearly the same, though 
+the object proposed by it be very different. They all go to war 
+together, therefore, and everyone does as well as he can. Among 
+theTartars, even the women have been frequently known to en- 
+gage in battle. If they conquer, whatever belongs to the hostile 
+tribe is the recompence of the victory; but if they are vanquished, 
+all is lost; and not only their herds and flocks, but their women 
+and children becomethe booty of theconqueror. Even thegreater 
+part of those who survive the action are obliged to submit to him 
+for thesakeof immediate subsistence. The rest are commonly dis- 
+sipated and dispersed in the desert. 
+
+Theordinary life, theordinary exercise of a Tartar or Arab, pre- 
+pares him sufficiently for war. Running, wrestling, cudgel-play- 
+ing, throwing the javelin, drawing the bow, etc. are the common 
+pastimes of those who livein theopen air, and are all of them the 
+images of war. When a Tartar or Arab actually goes to war, he is 
+maintained by his own herds and flocks, which he carries with 
+him, in the same manner as in peace. H is chief or sovereign (for 
+thosenationshaveall chiefs or sovereigns) isat no sort of expense 
+in preparing him for thefield; and when he is in it, the chance of 
+plunder is the only pay which he either expects or requires. 
+
+An army of hunters can seldom exceed two or three hundred 
+
+
+
+565 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+men. The precarious subsistence which the chace affords, could 
+seldom allow a greater number to keep together for any consider- 
+abletime. An army of shepherds, on thecontrary, may sometimes 
+amount to two or three hundred thousand. As long as nothing 
+stops their progress, as long as they can go on from onedistrict, of 
+which they have consumed the forage, to another, which is yet 
+entire; there seems to be scarce any limit to the number who can 
+march on together. A nation of hunters can never be formidable 
+to the civilized nations in their neighbourhood; a nation of shep- 
+herds may. Nothing can be more contemptible than an Indian 
+war in North America; nothing, on the contrary, can be more 
+dreadful than a Tartar invasion has frequently been in Asia. The 
+judgment of Thucydides, that both Europe and Asia could not 
+resist the Scythians united, has been verified by the experience of 
+all ages. The in habitants of the extensive, but defenceless plains of 
+ScythiaorTartary, have been frequently united under thedomin- 
+ionofthechiefofsomeconqueringhordeorclan;andthehavock 
+and devastation of Asia have always signalized their union. The 
+inhabitants of the inhospitable deserts of Arabia, the other great 
+nation of shepherds, have never been united but once, under 
+Mahomet and his immediate successors. Their union, which was 
+more the effect of religious enthusiasm than of conquest, was sig- 
+nalized in the same manner. If the hunting nations of America 
+
+
+
+should ever become shepherds, their neighbourhood would be 
+much moredangerousto theEuropean coloniesthan it isat present. 
+
+In a yet more advanced state of society, among those nations of 
+husbandmen who have little foreign commerce, and no other 
+manufactures but thosecoarse and household ones, which almost 
+every private family prepares for its own use, every man, in the 
+same manner, either is a warrior, or easily becomes such. Those 
+who live by agriculture generally pass the whole day in the open 
+air, exposed to all the inclemencies of the seasons. The hardiness 
+of their ordinary life prepares them for thefatiguesof war, to some 
+of which their necessary occupations bear a great analogy. The 
+necessary occupation of a ditcher prepares him to work in the 
+trenches, and to fortify a camp, as well as to inclose a field. The 
+ordinary pastimes of such husbandmen are the same as those of 
+shepherds, and are in the same manner the images of war. But as 
+husbandmen have less lei sure than shepherds, they are not so fre- 
+quently employed in those pastimes.Theyaresoldiersbut soldiers 
+not quite so much mastersof their exercise. Such as they are, how- 
+ever, it seldom costs the sovereign or commonwealth any expense 
+to prepare them for the field. 
+
+Agriculture, even in its rudest and lowest state, sup poses a settle- 
+ment, some sort of fixed habitation, which cannot be abandoned 
+without great loss. When a nation of mere husbandmen, there- 
+
+
+
+566 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+fore, goestowar, thewholepeoplecannottakethefield together. 
+The old men, the women and children, at least, must remain at 
+home, to take care of the habitation. All the men of the military 
+age, however, may take thefield, and in small nationsof thiskind, 
+have frequently done so. In every nation, themen of themilitary 
+age are supposed to amount to about a fourth or a fifth part of the 
+whole body of the people. If thecampaign, too, should begin after 
+seedtime, and end before harvest, both the husbandman and his 
+principal labourers can be spared from the farm without much 
+loss. H e trusts that the work which must be done in the mean 
+time, can be well enough executed by the old men, the women, 
+and thechildren. H e is not unwilling, therefore, to serve without 
+pay during a short campaign; and it frequently costs thesovereign 
+or commonwealth as little to maintain him in thefield as to pre 
+pare him for it. The citizens of all the different states of ancient 
+Greece seem to have served in this manner till after the second 
+Persian war; and the people of Peloponnesus till after the 
+Peloponnesian war. The Peloponnesians, Thucydides observes, 
+generally left thefield in the summer, and returned home to reap 
+the harvest. T he Roman people, under their kings, and during the 
+first ages of the republic, served in the same manner. It wasnot till 
+theseigeof Veii, that they who staid at home began to contribute 
+something towards maintaining those who went to war. In the 
+
+
+
+European monarchies, which werefounded upon the ruins of the 
+Roman empire, both before, and for some time after, the estab- 
+lishment of what is properly called thefeudal law, thegreat lords, 
+with all their immediate dependents, used to serve the crown at 
+their own expense. In thefield, in the same manner as at home, 
+they maintained themselves by their own revenue, and not by any 
+stipend or pay which they received from the king upon that par- 
+ticular occasion. 
+
+I n a more advanced state of society, two different causes con- 
+tribute to render it altogether impossible that they who take the 
+field should maintain themselves at their own expense. Those two 
+causes are, the progress of manufactures, and the improvement in 
+the art of war. 
+
+Though a husbandman should be employed in an expedition, 
+provided it begins after seedtime, and ends before harvest, the 
+interruption of hisbusiness will not always occasion any consider- 
+able diminution of his revenue. W ithout the intervention of his 
+labour, Nature does herself the greater part of the work which 
+remains to be done. But the moment that an artificer, a smith, a 
+carpenter, or a weaver, for example, quits his workhouse, the sole 
+sourceof hisrevenueiscompletely dried up. Naturedoesnothing 
+for him; hedoesall for himself. W hen hetakes thefield, therefore, 
+in defence of thepublic, ashehasno revenueto maintain himself, 
+
+
+
+567 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+hemust necessarily bemaintained by thepublic. But in a country, 
+of which agreat part of theinhabitants are artificers and manufac- 
+turers, a great part of the people who go to war must be drawn 
+from those classes, and must, therefore, bemaintained by thepublic 
+as long as they are employed in its service, 
+
+W hen the art of war, too, has gradually grown up to be a very 
+intricate and complicated science; when theevent of war ceases to 
+be determined, as in the first ages of society, by a single irregular 
+skirmish or battle; but when the contest is generally spun out 
+through several different campaigns, each of which lasts during 
+the greater part of the year; it becomes universally necessary that 
+the public should maintain those who serve the public in war, at 
+least whilethey are employed in that service. W hatever, in timeof 
+peace, might be the ordinary occupation of those who go to war, 
+so very tedious and expensive a service would otherwise be by far 
+too heavy a burden upon them. After the second Persian war, ac- 
+cordingly, the armies of Athens seem to have been generally com- 
+posed of mercenary troops, consisting, indeed, partly of citizens, 
+but partly, too, of foreigners; and all of them equally hired and 
+paid at the expense of the state. FromthetimeofthesiegeofVeii, 
+the armies of Rome received pay for their service during the time 
+which they remained in thefield. U nder thefeudal governments, 
+the military service, both of the great lords, and of their immedi- 
+
+
+
+ate dependents, was, after a certain period, universally exchanged 
+for a payment in money, which was employed to maintain those 
+who served in their stead. 
+
+T he number of those who can go to war, in proportion to the 
+whole number of the people, isnecessarilymuch smaller in a civi- 
+lized than in a rude state of society. In a civilized society, as the 
+soldiers are maintained altogether by the labour of those who are 
+not soldiers, the number of theformer can never exceed what the 
+latter can maintain, over and above maintaining, in a manner suit- 
+able to their respective stations, both themselves and the other 
+officers of government and law, whom they are obliged to main- 
+tain. In the little agrarian states of ancient Greece, a fourth or a 
+fifth part of the whole body of the people considered the them- 
+selves as soldiers, and would sometimes, it is said, take the field. 
+Among the civilized nations of modern Europe, it is commonly 
+computed, that not more than the one hundredth part of thein- 
+habitants of any country can be employed as soldiers, without 
+ruin to the country which pays the expense of their service. 
+
+T he expense of preparing the army for the field seems not to 
+have become considerable in any nation, till long after that of 
+maintaining it in thefield had devolved entirely upon the sover- 
+eign or commonwealth. In all the different republics of ancient 
+Greece, to learn his military exercises, was a necessary part of edu- 
+
+
+
+568 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+cation imposed by the state upon every free citizen. In every city 
+there seems to have been a public field, in which, under the pro- 
+tection of the public magistrate, the young people were taught 
+their different exercises by different masters. In this very simple 
+institution consisted the whole expense which any Grecian state 
+seems ever to have been at, in preparing its citizens for war. In 
+ancient Rome, the exercises of the Campus M arti us answered the 
+same purpose with those of the Gymnasium in ancient Greece. 
+Under the feudal governments, the many public ordinances, that 
+the citizens of every district should practise archery, aswell as sev- 
+eral other military exercises, wereintended for promoting thesame 
+purpose, but do not seem to havepromoted it so well . Either from 
+want of interest in the officers entrusted with the execution of 
+those ordinances, or from some other cause, they appear to have 
+been universally neglected; and in the progress of all those govern- 
+ments, military exercises seem to have gone gradually into disuse 
+among the great body of the people. 
+
+In the republics of ancient Greece and Rome, during the whole 
+period of their existence, and under thefeudal governments, for a 
+considerable timeafter their first establishment, thetrade of a sol- 
+dier was not a separate, distinct trade, which constituted the sole 
+or principal occupation of a particular class of citizens; every sub- 
+ject of the state, whatever might be the ordinary trade or occupa- 
+
+
+
+tion by which he gained his livelihood, considered himself, upon 
+all ordinary occasions, as fit likewise to exercise the trade of a sol- 
+dier, and, upon many extraordinary occasions, as bound to exer- 
+cise it. 
+
+T he art of war, however, as it is certainly the noblest of all arts, 
+so, in the progress of improvement, it necessarily becomes one of 
+the most complicated among them. T he state of the mechanical, 
+aswell as some other arts, with which it is necessarily connected, 
+determines thedegreeof perfection to which it is capable of being 
+carried at any particular time. But in order to carry it to this de- 
+gree of perfection, it is necessary that it should become the sole or 
+principal occupation of a particular class of citizens; and thedivi- 
+sion of labour is as necessary for the improvement of this, as of 
+every other art. Into other arts, the division of labour is naturally 
+introduced by the prudence of individuals, who find that they 
+promote their private interest better by confining themsdves to a 
+particular trade, than by exercising a great number. But it is the 
+wisdom of the state only, which can render thetradeof a soldier a 
+particular trade, separate and distinct from all others. A private 
+citizen, who, in timeof profound peace, and without any particu- 
+lar encouragement from the public, should spend the greater part 
+of his time in military exercises, might, no doubt, both improve 
+himsdf very much in them, and amuse himsdf very well; but he 
+
+
+
+569 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+certainly would not promote his own interest. It isthewisdom of 
+the state only, which can render it for his interest to give up the 
+greater part of histimetothispeculiar occupation; and states have 
+not always had this wisdom, even when their circumstances had 
+becomesuch, that the preservation of their existence required that 
+they should have it. 
+
+A shepherd has a great deal of leisure; a husbandman, in the 
+rude state of husbandry, has some; an artificer or manufacturer 
+has none at all. The first may, without any loss, employ a great 
+deal of histimein martial exercises; the second may employ some 
+part of it; but the last cannot employ a single hour in them with- 
+out someloss, and hisattention to hisown interest naturally leads 
+him to neglect them altogether.Thoseimprovem en tsin husbandry, 
+too, which the progress of arts and manufactures necessarily in- 
+troduces, leave the husbandman as little leisure as the artificer. 
+M ilitary exercises come to be as much neglected by the inhabit- 
+ants of the country as by those of the town, and the great body of 
+the people becomes altogether unwarlike.That wealth, at thesame 
+time, which always follows the improvements of agriculture and 
+manufactures, and which, in reality, isno more than theaccumu- 
+lated produce of those improvements, provokes theinvasion of all 
+their neighbours. An industrious, and, upon that account, a wealthy 
+nation, isof all nations the most likely to be attacked; and unless 
+
+
+
+thestate takes somenew measure for thepublicdef ence, thenatu- 
+ral habits of the people render them altogether incapable of de- 
+fending themselves. 
+
+I n these circumstances, there seem to be but two methods by 
+which the state can make any tolerable provision for the public 
+defence. 
+
+It may either, first, by means of a very rigorous police, and in 
+spite of the whole bent of the interest, genius, and inclinationsof 
+the people, enforce the practice of military exercises, and oblige 
+either all the citizens of the military age, or a certain number of 
+them, to join in some measure the trade of a soldier to whatever 
+other trade or profession they may happen to carry on. 
+
+r, secondly, by maintaining and employing a certain number 
+of citizens in the constant practice of military exercises, it may 
+render the trade of a soldier a particular trade, separate and dis- 
+tinct from all others. 
+
+1 f the state has recourse to the first of those two expedients, its 
+military force is said to consist in a militia; if to the second, it is 
+said to consist in a standing army. The practice of military exer- 
+cises is the sole or principal occupation of the soldiers of a stand- 
+ing army, and themaintenanceor pay which thestate affordsthem 
+is the principal and ordinary fund of their subsistence. The prac- 
+tice of military exercises is only the occasional occupation of the 
+
+
+
+570 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+soldiers of a militia, and they derive the principal and ordinary 
+fund of their subsistence from some other occupation. In a mili- 
+tia, thecharacter of the labourer, artificer, or tradesman, predomi- 
+nates over that of the soldier; in a standing army, that of the sol- 
+dier predominates over every other character; and in this distinc- 
+tion seems to consist the essential difference between those two 
+different species of military force. 
+
+M ilitias have been of several different kinds. In some countries, 
+the citizens destined for defending the state seem to have been 
+exercised only, without being, if I may say so, regimented; that is, 
+without being divided into separate and distinct bodies of troops, 
+each of which performed its exercises under its own proper and 
+permanent officers. In the republics of ancient Greece and Rome, 
+each citizen, as long as he remained at home, seems to have prac- 
+tised his exercises, either separately and independently, or with 
+such of his equals as he liked best; and not to have been attached 
+to any particular body of troops, till he was actually called upon to 
+take the field. In other countries, the militia has not only been 
+exercised, but regimented. In England, in Switzerland, and, I be- 
+lieve, in every other country of modern Europe, where any imper- 
+fect military forceof this kind has been established, every militia- 
+man is, even in time of peace, attached to a particular body of 
+troops, which performsitsexercisesunderitsown proper and per- 
+
+
+
+manent officers. 
+
+Beforetheinvention of fire-arms, that army was superior in which 
+thesoldiershad, each individually, thegreatest skill and dexterity in 
+the use of their arms. Strength and agility of body were of thehigh- 
+est consequence, and commonly determined thefateof battles. But 
+this skill and dexterity in the use of their arms could be acquired 
+only, in thesamemanner as fencing isat present, by practising, not 
+in great bodies, but each man separately, in a particular school, un- 
+der a particular master, or with his own particular equals and com- 
+panions. Since the invention of firearms, strength and agility of 
+body, or even extraordinary dexterity and skill in the use of arms, 
+though they are far from being of no consequence, are, however, of 
+lessconsequenceThenatureoftheweapon, though it by no means 
+putstheawkward upon a level with theskilful, putshim morenearly 
+so than heever was before. All thedexterity and skill, it issupposed, 
+which are necessary for using it, can be well enough acquired by 
+practising in great bodies. 
+
+Regularity, order, and prompt obedienceto command, arequali- 
+ties which, in modern armies, are of more importance towards 
+determining thefateof battles, than the dexterity and skill of the 
+soldiers in the use of their arms. But the noise of fire-arms, the 
+smoke, and the invisible death to which every man feels himself 
+every moment exposed, as soon as he comes within cannon-shot, 
+
+
+
+571 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+and frequently a long time before the battle can be well said to be 
+engaged, must render it very difficult to maintain any consider- 
+able degree of this regularity order, and prompt obedience, even 
+in the beginning of a modern battle. In an ancient battle, there 
+was no noise but what arose from the human voice; there was no 
+smoke, there was no invisible cause of wounds or death. Every 
+man, till some mortal weapon actually did approach him, saw 
+clearly that no such weapon was near him. I n these circumstances, 
+and among troops who had some confidence in their own skill 
+and dexterity in the use of their arms, it must have been a good 
+deal less difficult to preserve some degree of regularity and order, 
+not only in the beginning, but through the whole progress of an 
+ancient battle, and till one of the two armies was fairly defeated. 
+But the habits of regularity, order, and prompt obedience to com- 
+mand, can be acquired only by troops which are exercised in great 
+bodies. 
+
+A militia, however, in whatever manner it may be either disci- 
+plined or exercised, must always be much inferior to a well disci- 
+plined and well exercised standing army. 
+
+The soldiers who are exercised only once a week, or once a- 
+month, can never be so expert in the use of their arms, as those 
+who are exercised every day, or every other day; and though this 
+circumstance may not be of so much consequence in modern, as 
+
+
+
+it was in ancient times, yet the acknowledged superiority of the 
+Prussian troops, owing, it is said, very much to their superior ex- 
+pertness in their exercise, may satisfy usthat it is, even at this day, 
+of very considerable consequence. 
+
+T he soldiers, who are bound to obey their officer only once a- 
+week, or oncea-month, and who are at all other times atliberty to 
+manage their own affairs their own way, without being, in any 
+respect, accountabletohim, can never be under the same awe in 
+his presence, can never have the same disposition to ready obedi- 
+ence, with those whose whole life and conduct are every day di- 
+rected by him, and who every day even rise and go to bed, or at 
+least retire to their quarters, according to his orders. In what is 
+called discipline, or in thehabit of ready obedience, a militia must 
+always be still moreinferiortoastandingarmy than itmay some- 
+times be in what is called the manual exercise, or in the manage- 
+ment and use of its arms. But, in modern war, the habit of ready 
+and instant obedienceisof much greater consequence than a con- 
+siderable superiority in the management of arms. 
+
+Those militias which, liketheTartar or Arab militia, goto war 
+under the same chieftains whom they are accustomed to obey in 
+peace, are by far the best. I n respect for their officers, in the habit 
+of ready obedience, they approach nearest to standing armiesT he 
+Highland militia, when it served under its own chieftains, had 
+
+
+
+572 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+some advantage of the same kind. As the Highlanders, however, 
+were not wandering, but stationary shepherds, as they had all a 
+fixed habitation, and were not, in peaceable times, accustomed to 
+follow their chieftain from place to place; so, in time of war, they 
+were less willing to follow him to any considerable distance, or to 
+continuefor any long time in thefield. When they had acquired 
+any booty, they were eager to return home, and his authority was 
+seldom sufficient to detain them. In point of obedience, they were 
+alwaysmuch inferior to what isreported of theTartarsand Arabs. 
+As the H ighlanders, too, from their stationary life, spend less of 
+their time in the open air, they were always less accustomed to 
+military exercises, and were less expert in the use of their arms 
+than theTartarsand Arabs are said to be. 
+
+A militia of any kind, it must be observed, however, which has 
+served for several successive campaigns in the field, becomes in 
+every respect a standing army. T he soldiers are every day exercised 
+in the use of their arms, and, being constantly under the com- 
+mand of their officers, are habituated to the same prompt obedi- 
+ence which takes placein standing armies. What they were before 
+they took thefield, is of little importance. They necessarily be- 
+come in every respect a standing army, after they have passed a 
+few campaigns in it. Should the war in America drag out through 
+another campaign, the American militia may become, in every 
+
+
+
+respect, a match for that standing army, of which the valour ap- 
+peared, in the last war at least, not inferior to that of the hardiest 
+veterans of France and Spain. 
+
+Thisdistinction being well understood, thehistory of all ages, it 
+will befound, hears testimonytotheirresistiblesuperiority which 
+a well regulated standing army has over a militia. 
+
+neof thefirst standing armies, of which we have any distinct 
+account in any well authenticated history, is that of Philip of 
+Macedon. His frequent wars with theThracians, lllyrians, 
+Thessalians, and some of the Greek cities in the neighbourhood 
+of M acedon, gradually formed histroops, which in the beginning 
+were probably militia, to the exact discipline of a standing army. 
+When he was at peace, which he was very seldom, and never for 
+any long time together, he was careful not to disband that army. It 
+vanquished and subdued, after a long and violent struggle, in- 
+deed, the gallant and well exercised militias of the principal re- 
+publicsof ancient Greece; and afterwards, with very littlestruggle, 
+the effeminate and ill exercised militiaofthegreat Persian empire. 
+Thefall of theGreek republics, and of the Persian empirewasthe 
+effect of the irresistible superiority which astandingarm has over 
+every other sort of militia. It is the first great revolution in the 
+affairsof mankind of which history has preserved any distinct and 
+circumstantial account. 
+
+
+
+573 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+Thefall of Carthage, and the con sequent elevation of Rome, is 
+the second. All the varieties in the fortune of those two famous 
+republics may very well be accounted for from the same cause. 
+
+From the end of the first to the beginning of the second 
+Carthaginian war, thearmies of Carthage werecontinually in the 
+field, and employed under three great generals, who succeeded 
+one another in the command; Amilcar, his son-in-law Asdrubal, 
+and hisson Annibal: first in chastising their own rebellious slaves, 
+afterwards in subduing the revolted nations of Africa; and lastly, 
+in conquering the great kingdom of Spain. The army which 
+Annibal led from Spain into Italy must necessarily, in thosediffer- 
+ent wars, have been gradually formed to the exact discipline of a 
+standing army. The Romans, in the meantime, though they had 
+not been altogether at peace, yet they had not, during this period, 
+been engaged in any war of very great consequence; and their mili- 
+tary discipline, it is generally said, was a good deal relaxed. The 
+Roman armies which Annibal encountered atTrebi,Thrasymenus, 
+and Cannae, were militia opposed to a standing army. This cir- 
+cumstance, it is probable, contributed more than any other to 
+determine the fate of those battles. 
+
+The standing army which Annibal left behind him in Spain had 
+the like superiority over the militia which the Romans sent to 
+opposeit; and, in a few years, under the command of hisbrother, 
+
+
+
+the younger Asdrubal, expelled them almost entirely from that 
+country. 
+
+Annibal wasill supplied from home. The Roman militia, being 
+continually in thefield, became, in the progress of the war, a well 
+disciplined and well exercised standing army; and the superiority 
+of Annibal grew every day I ess and less. Asdrubal judged it neces- 
+sary to lead the whole, or almost the whole, of the standing army 
+which hecommanded in Spain, to the assistance of hisbrother in 
+Italy. In this march, he is said to have been misled by his guides; 
+and in a country which he did not know, was surprised and at- 
+tacked, by another standing army, in every respect equal or supe- 
+rior to his own, and was entirely defeated. 
+
+W hen Asdrubal had left Spain, the great Sci pi o found nothing 
+to opposehim but a militia inferiorto hisown. H econquered and 
+subdued that militia, and, in thecourseof thewar, hisown militia 
+necessarily became a well disciplined and well exercised standing 
+army. T hat standing army was afterwards carried to Africa, where 
+it found nothing but a militia to oppose it. In order to defend 
+Carthage, it became necessary to recal the standing army of 
+Annibal. The disheartened and frequently defeated African mili- 
+tia joined it, and, atthebattleof Zama, composed the greater part 
+of the troops of Annibal. The event of that day determined the 
+fate of the two rival republics. 
+
+
+
+574 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+From the end of the second Carthaginian war till thefall of the 
+Roman republic, the armies of Rome were in every respect stand- 
+ing armies. Thestanding army of M acedon made some resistance 
+to their arms. In the height of their grandeur, it cost them two 
+great wars, and three great battles, to subdue that little kingdom, 
+of which the conquest would probably have been still more diffi- 
+cult, had it not been for thecowardice of its last king. The militias 
+of all thecivilized nationsof theancient world, of Greece, of Syria, 
+and of Egypt, made but a feeble resistance to the standing armies 
+of RomeThemilitias of some barbarousnationsdef ended them- 
+selves much better. The Scythian or Tartar militia, which 
+M ithridates drew from the countries north of the Euxine and 
+C aspian seas, were the most formidable enemies whom the Ro- 
+mans had to encounter after the second Carthaginian war. The 
+Parthian and German militias, too, were always respectable, and 
+upon several occasions, gained very considerable advantages over 
+the Roman armies. In general, however, and when the Roman 
+armies were well commanded, they appear to have been very much 
+superior; and if the Romans did not pursue the final conquest 
+either of Parthia or G ermany, it was probably because they judged 
+that it was not worth while to add those two barbarous countries 
+to an empire which was already too large. T he ancient Parthians 
+appear to have been a nation of Scythian or Tartar extraction, and 
+
+
+
+to have always retained a good deal of the manners of their ances- 
+tors. Theancient Germans were, I ike the Scythians or Tartars, a 
+nation of wandering shepherds, who went to war under the same 
+chiefs whom they were accustomed to follow in peace. Their mi- 
+litia was exactly of the same kind with that of the Scythians or 
+Tartars, from whom, too, they were probably descended. 
+
+M any different causes contributed to relax the discipline of the 
+Roman armies. Its extreme severity was, perhaps, one of those 
+causes. In the days of their grandeur, when no enemy appeared 
+capable of opposing them, their heavy armour was laid aside as 
+unnecessarily burdensome, their laboriousexerciseswereneglected, 
+as unnecessarily toilsome. Under the Roman emperors, besides, 
+the standing armies of Rome, those particularly which guarded 
+theGerman and Pannonian frontiers, became dangerous to their 
+masters, against whom they used frequently to set up their own 
+generals. In order to render them less formidable, according to 
+some authors, Diodesian, according to others, Constantine, first 
+withdrew them from the frontier, where they had always before 
+been encamped in great bodies, generally of two or three legions 
+each, and dispersed them in small bodies through the different 
+provincial towns, from whence they were scarce ever removed, 
+but when it became necessary to repel an invasion. Small bodies 
+of soldiers, quartered in trading and manufacturing towns, and 
+
+
+
+575 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+seldom removed from those quarters, became themselves trades 
+men, artificers, and manufacturers. The civil came to predomi- 
+nate over themilitary character; and thestanding armies of Rome 
+gradually degenerated into acorrupt, neglected, and undisciplined 
+militia, incapableof resisting theattack of theGerman and Scythian 
+militias, which soon afterwards invaded the western empire. It 
+was only by hiring the militia of some of those nations to oppose 
+to that of others, that the emperors were for some time able to 
+defend themselves. The fall ofthewestern empireisthethird great 
+revolution in theaffairs of mankind, of which ancient history has 
+preserved any distinct or circumstantial account. It was brought 
+about by the irresistible superiority which the militia of a barba- 
+rous has over that of a civilized nation; which the militia of a 
+nation of shepherds has over that of a nation of husbandmen, 
+artificers, and manufacturers. Thevictories which have been gained 
+by militiashave generally been, not over standing armies, but over 
+other militias, in exercise and discipline inferior to themselves. 
+Such were the victories which the Greek militia gained over that 
+of the Persian empire; and such, too, were those which, in later 
+times, the Swiss militia gained over that of the Austrians and 
+Burgundians. 
+
+Themilitary force of theGerman and Scythian nations, who 
+established themselves upon ruins of the western empire, contin- 
+
+
+
+ued for sometimeto beofthesamekind in their new settlements, 
+as it had been in their original country. It was a militia of shep- 
+herds and husbandmen, which, in time of war, took the field un- 
+der thecommand of thesamechieftainswhom it was accustomed 
+to obey in peace. It was, therefore, tolerably well exercised, and 
+tolerably well disciplined. As arts and industry advanced, how- 
+ever, the authority of the chieftains gradually decayed, and the 
+great body of the people had less time to spare for military exer- 
+cises. Both the discipline and the exercise of the feudal militia, 
+therefore, went gradually to ruin, and standing armies were gradu- 
+ally introduced to supply the place of it. W hen the expedient of a 
+standing army, besides, had once been adopted by one civilized 
+nation, it became necessary that all its neighbours should follow 
+the example. They soon found that their safety depended upon 
+their doing so, and that their own militia was altogether incapable 
+of resisting the attack of such an army. 
+
+The soldiers of a standing army, though they may never have 
+seen an enemy, yet have frequently appeared to possess all thecour- 
+age of veteran troops, and, the very moment that they took the 
+field, to have been fit to face the hardiest and most experienced 
+veterans In 1756, when the Russian army marched into Poland, 
+thevalour of the Russian soldiersdid not appear inferior to that of 
+the Prussians, at that time supposed to be the hardiest and most 
+
+
+
+576 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+experienced veterans in Europe. The Russian empire, however, 
+had enjoyed a profound peace for near twenty years before, and 
+could at that time have very few soldiers who had ever seen an 
+enemy. When the Spanish war broke out in 1739, England had 
+enjoyed a profound peace for about eight-and-twenty years. The 
+valour of her soldiers, however, far from being corrupted by that 
+long peace, wasnever moredistinguished than in theattempt upon 
+Carthagena, thefirst unfortunate exploit of that unfortunate war. 
+In along peace, thegenerals, perhaps, may sometimes forget their 
+skill; but where a well regulated standing army has been kept up, 
+the soldiers seem never to forget their valour. 
+
+When a civilized nation depends for its defence upon a militia, 
+it is at all times exposed to be conquered by any barbarous nation 
+which happens to be in its neighbourhood. The frequent con- 
+quests of all the civilized countries in Asia by the Tartars, suffi- 
+ciently demonstrates thenatural superiority which themilitiaof a 
+barbarous has over that of a civilized nation. A well regulated stand- 
+ing army is superior to every militia. Such an army, as it can best 
+be maintained by an opulent and civilized nation, so it can alone 
+defend such a nation against the invasion of a poor and barbarous 
+neighbour. It is only by means of a standing army, therefore, that 
+the civilization of any country can be perpetuated, or even pre 
+served, for any considerable time. 
+
+
+
+As it is only by means of a well regulated standing army, that a 
+civilized country can bedefended, so it isonly by meansof it that a 
+barbarouscountrycan besuddenly and tolerably civilized. A stand- 
+ing army establishes, with an irresistible force, the law of the sover- 
+eign through the remotest provinces of the empire, and maintains 
+some degree of regular government in countries which could not 
+otherwise admit of any. W hoever examines with attention, the im- 
+provements which Peter the Great introduced into the Russian 
+empire, will find that they almost all resolve themselves into the 
+establishment of a well regulated standingarmy. It istheinstrument 
+which executes and maintainsall hisother regulations. That degree 
+of order and internal peace, which that empire has ever since en- 
+joyed, is altogether owing to the influence of that army. 
+
+M en of republican principles have been jealous of a standing 
+army, asdangerousto liberty. It certainly isso, wherever the inter- 
+est of the general, and that of the principal officers, are not neces- 
+sarily connected with the support of the constitution of the state. 
+T he standing army of C aesar destroyed the Roman republic. T he 
+standing army of Cromwell turned the long parliament out of 
+doors. But where the sovereign is himself the general, and the 
+principal nobility and gentry of the country the chief officers of 
+the army; where the military force is placed under the command 
+of those who have the greatest interest in the support of the civil 
+
+
+
+577 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+authority, because they have themselves the greatest share of that 
+authority, a standing army can never be dangerous to liberty. n 
+the contrary, it may, in some cases, be favourable to liberty. The 
+security which it gives to the sovereign renders unnecessary that 
+troublesomejealousy, which, in somemodern republics, seems to 
+watch over the minutest actions, and to be at all times ready to 
+disturb the peace of every citizen . W here the security of the mag- 
+istrate, though supported by the principal people of the country, 
+is endangered by every popular discontent; where a small tumult 
+iscapableof bringing about in afew hoursa great revolution, the 
+wholeauthority of government must be employed to suppress and 
+punish every murmur and complaint against it. To a sovereign, on 
+the contrary, who feels himself supported, not only by the natural 
+aristocracy of the country, but by a well regulated standing army, 
+the rudest, the most groundless, and the most licentious remon- 
+strances, can give little disturbance. H ecan safely pardon or neglect 
+them, and his consciousness of his own superiority naturally dis- 
+poses him to do so. That degree of liberty which approaches to 
+licentiousness, can be tolerated only in countries where the sover- 
+eign is secured by a well regulated standing army. It isin such coun- 
+tries only, that the public safety does not require that the sovereign 
+should be trusted with any discretionary power, for suppressing even 
+the impertinent wantonness of this licentious liberty. 
+
+
+
+The first duty of the sovereign, therefore, that of defending the 
+society from theviolence and injustice of other independent societ- 
+ies, grows gradually more and more expensive, as the society ad- 
+vancesin civilization. Themilitary force of thesociety, which origi- 
+nally cost the sovereign no expense, either in time of peace, or in 
+time of war, must, in the progress of improvement, first be main- 
+tained byhim in time of war, and afterwards even in timeof peace. 
+
+T he great change introduced into the art of war by the inven- 
+tion of fire-arms, has enhanced still further both the expense of 
+exercising and disciplining any particular number of soldiers in 
+time of peace, and that of employing them in time of war. Both 
+their arms and their ammunition are become more expensive. A 
+musket is a more expensive machine than a javelin or a bow and 
+arrows; a cannon or a mortar, than a balista or a catapulta. The 
+powder which is spent in a modern review is lost irrecoverably, 
+and occasions a very considerable expense. The javelins and ar- 
+rows which were thrown or shot in an ancient one, could easily be 
+picked up again, and were, besides, of very little value. The can- 
+non and the mortar are not only much dearer, but much heavier 
+machines than the balista or catapulta; and require a greater ex- 
+pense, not only to prepare them for thefield, but to carry them to 
+it. Asthe superiority of the modern artillery, too, over that of the 
+ancients, is very great; it has become much more difficult, and 
+
+
+
+578 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+consequently much more expensive, to fortify a town, so as to 
+resist, even for a few weeks, the attack of that superior artillery. I n 
+modern times, many different causes contribute to render the de- 
+fence of the society more expensive. The unavoidable effects of 
+the natural progress of improvement have, in this respect, been a 
+good deal enhanced by a great revolution in the art of war, to 
+which a mere accident, theinvention of gunpowder, seemsto have 
+given occasion. 
+
+I n modern war, the great expense of firearms gives an evident 
+advantage to the nation which can best afford that expense; and, 
+consequently, to an opulent and civilized, over a poor and barba- 
+rous nation. In ancient times, the opulent and civilized found it 
+difficult to defend themselves against the poor and barbarous na- 
+tions. In modern times, thepoor and barbarousfind itdifficultto 
+defend themselves against the opulent and civilized. The inven- 
+tion of fire-arms, an invention which at first sight appears to be so 
+pernicious, is certainly favourable, both to thepermanency and to 
+the extension of civilization. 
+
+
+
+PART II 
+
+Of the Expense of Justice 
+
+The second duty of the sovereign, that of protecting, as far as 
+possible, every member of the society from the injustice or op- 
+pression of every other member of it, or the duty of establishing 
+an exact administration of justice, requires two very different de- 
+grees of expense in the different periods of society. 
+
+Among nations of hunters, as there is scarce any property, or at 
+least none that exceeds the value of two or three days labour; so 
+there is seldom any established magistrate, or any regular admin- 
+istration of justice. M en who have no property, can injure one 
+another only in their persons or reputations. But when one man 
+kills, wounds, beats, or defames another, though he to whom the 
+injury is done suffers, he who does it receives no benefit. It is 
+otherwise with theinjuries to property. The ben efit of theperson 
+who does the injury isoften equal to thelossof him who suffers it. 
+Envy, malice, or resentment, are the only passions which can 
+prompt one man to injure another in his person or reputation. 
+But the greater part of men are not very frequently under the 
+influence of those passions; and the very worst men are so only 
+occasionally. As their gratification, too, how agreeable soever it 
+
+
+
+579 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+may be to certain characters, is not attended with any real or per- 
+manent advantage, it is, in the greater part of men, commonly 
+restrained by prudential considerations. M en may live together in 
+society with some tolerable degree of security, though there is no 
+civil magistrate to protect them from the injustice of those pas- 
+sions. But avarice and ambition in the rich, in the poor the hatred 
+of labour and the love of present ease and enjoyment, arethepas- 
+sionswhich promptto invade property; passionsmuch moresteady 
+in their operation, and much more universal in their influence. 
+Wherever there is a great property, there is great inequality. For 
+one very rich man, there must be at least five hundred poor, and 
+the affluence of the few supposes the indigence of the many. T he 
+affluence of the rich excites the indignation of the poor, who are 
+often both driven by want, and prompted by envy to invade his 
+possessions. Itisonly under theshelter of thecivil magistrate, that 
+theownerof that valuable property, which isacquired bythelabour 
+of many years, or perhaps of many successive generations, can 
+sleep a single night in security. H e is at all times surrounded by 
+unknown enemies, whom, though he never provoked, hecan never 
+appease, and from whoseinjusticehecan beprotected only by the 
+powerful arm of thecivil magistrate, continually held up to chas- 
+tise it. The acquisition of valuable and extensive property, there- 
+fore, necessarily requires the establishment of civil government. 
+
+
+
+W here there is no property, or at least none that exceeds the value 
+of two or three days labour, civil government is not so necessary. 
+
+Civil government supposes a certain subordination. But as the 
+necessity of civil government gradually growsup with theacquisi- 
+tion of valuable property; so the principal causes, which naturally 
+introduce subordination, gradually grow up with the growth of 
+that valuable property. 
+
+T he causes or circumstances which naturally introduce subor- 
+dination, or which naturally and antecedent to any civil institu- 
+tion, give somemen somesuperiority over thegreater part of their 
+brethren, seem to be four in number. 
+
+T he first of those causes or circumstances, is the superiority of 
+personal qualifications, of strength, beauty, and agility of body; of 
+wisdom and virtue; of prudence, justice, fortitude, and modera- 
+tion of mind. T hequalificationsof thebody, unless supported by 
+those of the mind, can give little authority in any period of soci- 
+ety. H e is a very strong man, who, by mere strength of body, can 
+force two weak ones to obey him. The qualifications of the mind 
+can alone give very great authority They are however, invisible 
+qualities; always disputable, and generally disputed. No society, 
+whether barbarous or civilized, has ever found it convenient to 
+settle the rules of precedency of rank and subordination, accord- 
+ing to thoseinvisiblequalities; but according to something that is 
+
+
+
+580 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+more plain and palpable. 
+
+Thesecond of those causes or circumstances, is the superiority 
+of age. An old man, provided his age is not so far advanced as to 
+give suspicion of dotage, iseverywhere more respected than ayoung 
+man of equal rank, fortune, and abilities. Among nationsof hunt- 
+ers, such as the native tribes of N orth America, age is the sole 
+foundation of rank and precedency. Among them, father is the 
+appellation of a superior; brother, of an equal; and son, of an infe- 
+rior. In the most opulent and civilized nations, age regulates rank 
+among those who are in every other respect equal; and among 
+whom, therefore, thereisnothingelseto regulateit. Among broth- 
+ers and among sisters, the eldest always takes place; and in the 
+succession of the paternal estate, everything which cannot be di- 
+vided, but must go entire to one person, such asatitleof honour, 
+is in most cases given to the eldest. Age is a plain and palpable 
+quality, which admits of no dispute. 
+
+Thethird of those causes or circumstances, is the superiority of 
+fortune. The authority of riches, however, though great in every 
+age of society, is, perhaps, greatest in the rudest ages of society, 
+which admits of any considerable inequality of fortune. A Tartar 
+chief, theincreaseof whose flocks and herds is sufficient to main- 
+tain a thousand men, cannot well employ that increase in any 
+otherwaythan in maintaining a thousand men. The rude state of 
+
+
+
+his society does not afford him any manufactured produce any 
+trinkets or baubles of any kind, for which he can exchange that 
+part of his rude produce which is over and above his own con- 
+sumption. Thethousand men whom hethus maintains, depend- 
+ing entirely upon him for their subsistence, must both obey his 
+ordersin war, and submit to hisjurisdiction in peace. Heisneces- 
+sarilyboth their general and their judge, and his chieftainship is 
+thenecessary effect of thesuperiority of hisfortune. In an opulent 
+and civilized society, a man may possess a much greater fortune, 
+and yet not be able to command a dozen of people. Though the 
+produce of hisestate may be sufficient to maintain, and may, per- 
+haps, actually maintain, more than a thousand people, yet, as those 
+people pay for every thing which they get from him, as he gives 
+scarce any thing to any body but in exchange for an equivalent, 
+there is scarce anybody who considers himself as entirely depen- 
+dent upon him, and his authority extends only over a few menial 
+servants. The authority of fortune, however, is very great, even in 
+an opulent and civilized society. T hat it is much greater than that 
+either of age or of personal qualities, has been the constant com- 
+plaint of every period of society which admitted of any consider- 
+ableinequality of fortune. Thefirst period of society, that of hunt- 
+ers, admits of no such inequality. Universal poverty establishes 
+their universal equality; and the superiority, either of age or of 
+
+
+
+581 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+personal qualities, are the feeble, but the sole foundations of au- 
+thority and subordination. There is, therefore, littleor no author- 
+ity or subordination in this period of society. The second period 
+of society, that of shepherds, admits of very great inequalities of 
+fortune, and thereisno period in which the superiority of fortune 
+gi ves so great authority to those who possess it. T here is no period, 
+accordingly, in which authority and subordination are more per- 
+fectly established. Theauthority of an Arabian scherif isvery great; 
+that of a Tartar khan altogether despotical. 
+
+The fourth of those causes or circumstances, is the superiority 
+of birth. Superiority of birth supposes an ancient superiority of 
+fortunein thefamily of the person who claimsit. All families are 
+equally ancient; and the ancestors of the prince, though they may 
+be better known, cannot well bemorenumerousthan those of the 
+beggar. Antiquity of family means everywhere theantiquity either 
+of wealth, or of that greatness which iscommonly either founded 
+upon wealth, or accompanied with it. U pstart greatness is every- 
+where less respected than ancient greatness. T he hatred of usurp- 
+ers, the love of the family of an ancient monarch, are in a great 
+measure founded upon the contempt which men naturally have 
+fortheformer, and upon their veneration for the latter. As a mili- 
+tary officer submits, without reluctance, to the authority of a su- 
+perior by whom he has always been commanded, but cannot bear 
+
+
+
+that his inferior should be set over his head; somen easily submit 
+to a family to whom they and their ancestors have always submit- 
+ted; but are fired with indignation when an other family, in whom 
+they had never acknowledged any such superiority, assumes a do- 
+minion over them. 
+
+The distinction of birth, being subsequent to the inequality of 
+fortune, can haveno placein nationsof hunters, among whom all 
+men, being equal in fortune, must likewise be very nearly equal in 
+birth. Theson of a wise and brave man may, indeed, even among 
+them, be somewhat more respected than a man of equal merit, 
+who has the misfortune to be the son of a fool or a coward. The 
+difference, however will not be very great; and there never was, I 
+believe, a great family in the world, whoseillustration was entirely 
+derived from the inheritance of wisdom and virtue. 
+
+The distinction of birth not only may, but always does, take 
+place among nationsof shepherds. Such nations are always strangers 
+to every sort of luxury, and great wealth can scarce ever be dissi- 
+pated among them by improvident profusion. There are no na- 
+tions, accordingly, who abound more in families revered and 
+honoured on account of their descent from a long race of great 
+and illustriousancestors; becausetherearenonationsamongwhom 
+wealth is likely to continue longer in thesamefamilies. 
+
+Birth and fortune are evidently the two circumstances which 
+
+
+
+582 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+principally set one man above another. They are the two great 
+sources of personal distinction, and are, therefore, the principal 
+causes which naturally establish authority and subordination 
+among men. Among nations of shepherds, both those causes op- 
+erate with their full force. The great shepherd or herdsman, re 
+spected on account of hisgreat wealth, and of thegreat number of 
+those who depend upon him for subsistence, and revered on ac- 
+count of the nobleness of his birth, and of the immemorial antiq- 
+uity or his illustrious family, has a natural authority over all the 
+inferior shepherds or herdsmen of hishordeordan. Hecan com- 
+mand the united force of a greater number of people than any of 
+them. H is military power is greater than that of any of them. In 
+time of war, they are all of them naturally disposed to muster 
+themselves under his banner, rather than under that of any other 
+person; and his birth and fortune thus naturally procure to him 
+some sort of executive power. By commanding, too, the united 
+force of a greater number of people than any of them, he is best 
+able to compel any one of them, who may have injured another, 
+to compensate the wrong. H e is the person, therefore, to whom 
+all those who are too weak to defend themselves naturally look up 
+for protection. It is to him that they naturally complain of the 
+injuries which they imagine have been donetothem; and his in- 
+terposition, in such cases, is more easily submitted to, even by the 
+
+
+
+person complained of, than that of any other person would be. 
+H is birth and fortune thus naturally procure him some sort of 
+judicial authority. 
+
+It isin the age of shepherds, in thesecond period of society, that 
+theinequality of fortunefirst beginsto takeplace, and introduces 
+among men a degree of authority and subordination, which could 
+not possibly exist before. It thereby introduces some degree of 
+that civil government which isindisp en sably necessary for its own 
+preservation; and it seemsto do this naturally, and even indepen- 
+dent of the consideration of that necessity. T he consideration of 
+that necessity comes, no doubt, afterwards, to contribute very much 
+to maintain and secure that authority and subordination. Therich, 
+in particular, are necessarily interested to support that order of 
+things, which can alone secure them in the possession of their 
+own advantages. M en of inferior wealth combineto defend those 
+of superior wealth in thepossession of their property, in order that 
+men of superior wealth may combineto defend them in the pos- 
+session of theirs. All the inferior shepherds and herdsmen feel, 
+that the security of their own herds and flocks depends upon the 
+security of those of thegreat shepherd or herdsman; that themain- 
+tenance of their lesser authority depends upon that of his greater 
+authority; and that upon their subordination to him depends his 
+power of keeping their inferiors in subordination to them. They 
+
+
+
+583 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+constituteasortof littlenobility, whofeel themselves interested to 
+defend the property, and to support the authority, of their own 
+little sovereign, in order that he may be ableto defend their prop- 
+erty, and to support their authority. C ivil government, so far as it 
+isinstituted for thesecurity of property, is, in reality, instituted for 
+the defence of the rich against the poor, or of those who have 
+some property against those who have none at all. 
+
+The judicial authority of such a sovereign, however, far from 
+being a causeof expense, was, for a long time, a source of revenue 
+to him. The persons who applied to him for justice were always 
+willing to pay for it, and a present never failed to accompany a 
+petition. After theauthority of thesovereign, too, was thoroughly 
+established, the person found guilty, over and above the satisfac- 
+tion which he was obliged to make to the party, was like-wise 
+forced to pay an amercement to the sovereign. He had given 
+trouble, he had disturbed, he had broke the peace of his lord the 
+king, and for those offences an amercement was thought due. I n 
+the Tartar governments of Asia, in the governments of Europe 
+which were founded by the German and Scythian nations who 
+overturned the Roman empire, the ad ministration of justice wasa 
+considerable source of revenue, both to thesovereign, and to all 
+the lesser chiefs or lords who exercised under him any particular 
+jurisdiction, either over some particular tribe or clan, or over some 
+
+
+
+particular territory or district. Originally, both thesovereign and 
+the inferior chiefs used to exercise this jurisdiction in their own 
+persons. Afterwards, they universally found it convenient to del- 
+egate it to so me substitute, bailiff, or judge. T his substitute, how- 
+ever, was still obliged to account to his principal or constituent for 
+theprofitsofthejurisdiction. W hoever readstheinstructions(They 
+areto befound in Tyrol's H istory of England) which were given to 
+the judges of the circuit in the time of Henry II will see clearly 
+that those judges were a sort of itinerant factors, sent round the 
+country for the purpose of levying certain branches of the king's 
+revenue. In those days, the administration of justice not only af- 
+forded a certain revenueto thesovereign, but, to procure this rev- 
+enue, seems to have been one of the principal advantages which 
+heproposed to obtain by the administration of justice. 
+
+T his scheme of making the administration of justice subservi- 
+ent to the purposes of revenue, could scarce fail to be productive 
+of several very gross abuses. The person who applied for justice 
+with a large present in his hand, waslikdyto get something more 
+than justice; while he who applied for it with a small one was 
+likdy to get something less. Justice, too, might frequently be de- 
+layed, in order that this present might be repeated. The amerce- 
+ment, besides, of the person complained of, might frequently sug- 
+gest a very strong reason for finding him in the wrong, even when 
+
+
+
+584 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+he had not really been so. That such abuses were far from being 
+uncommon, theancient history of every country in Europe bears 
+witness. 
+
+When the sovereign or chief exercises his judicial authority in 
+his own person, how much soever he might abuse it, it must have 
+been scarce possibleto get any redress; because therecould seldom 
+beany body powerful enough to call him to account. When he 
+exercised it byabailiff, indeed, redressmightsometimesbehad. If 
+it was for his own benefit only, that the bailiff had been guilty of 
+an act of injustice, the sovereign himself might not always be un- 
+willing to punish him, ortoobligehim to repair the wrong. But if 
+it was for the benefit of his sovereign; if it was in order to make 
+court to the person who appointed him, and who might prefer 
+him, thathehad committed any act of oppression; redress would, 
+upon most occasions, beasimpossibleasif thesovereign had com- 
+mitted it himself. In all barbarousgovernments, accordingly, in all 
+those ancient governments of Europe in particular, which were 
+founded upon theruinsoftheRoman empire, the ad ministration 
+of justice appears for a long time to have been extremely corrupt; 
+far from being quite equal and impartial, even under the best 
+monarchs, and altogether profligate under the worst. 
+
+Among nations of shepherds, where the sovereign or chief is 
+only the greatest shepherd or herdsman of the horde or clan, he is 
+
+
+
+maintained in the same manner as any of his vassals or subjects, 
+by the increase of hisown herdsor flocks. Amongthosenationsof 
+husbandmen, who are but just come out of the shepherd state, 
+and who are not much advanced beyond that state, such as the 
+Greek tribes appear to have been about thetimeoftheTrojan war, 
+and our German and Scythian ancestors, when they first settled 
+upon the ruins of the western empire; thesovereign or chief is, in 
+thesamemanner, only thegreatest landlord of thecountry, and is 
+maintained in the same manner as any other landlord, by a rev- 
+enuederived from hisown private estate, or from what, in mod- 
+ern Europe, was called the demesne of the crown. H is subjects, 
+upon ordinary occasions, contribute nothing to his support, ex- 
+cept when, in order to protect them from the oppression of some 
+of their fellow- subjects, they stand in need of his authority. The 
+presentswhich they makehim upon such occasionsconstitutethe 
+wholeordinary revenue, the whole of the emoluments which, ex- 
+cept, perhaps, upon some very extraordinary emergencies, hede- 
+rivesfrom hisdominion over them. W hen Agamemnon, in H omer, 
+off ers to Achilles, for hisfriendship, the sovereignty of seven Greek 
+cities, thesoleadvantage which hementionsaslikely to bederived 
+from it was, that the people would honour him with presents. As 
+long as such presents, as long as the emoluments of justice, or 
+what may be called the fees of court, constituted, in this manner, 
+
+
+
+585 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+the whole ordinary revenue which the sovereign derived from his 
+sovereignty, it could not well be expected, it could not even de- 
+cently be proposed, that he should give them up altogether. It 
+might, and it frequently was proposed, that he should regulate 
+and ascertain them. But after they had been so regulated and as- 
+certained, how to hinder a person who was all -powerful from ex- 
+tending them beyond those regulations, was still very difficult, 
+not to say impossible. Duringthecontinuanceofthisstateof things, 
+therefore, the corruption of justice, naturally resulting from the 
+arbitrary and uncertain nature of those presents, scarce admitted 
+of any effectual remedy. 
+
+But when, from different causes, chiefly from the continually 
+increasing expense of defending the nation against theinvasion of 
+other nations, the private estate of the sovereign had become alto- 
+gether insufficient for defraying the expense of the sovereignty; 
+and when it had become necessary that the people should, for 
+their own security, contribute towards this expense by taxes of 
+different kinds; it seems to have been very commonly stipulated, 
+that no present for the administration of justice should, under 
+anypretence, be accepted either by thesovereign, orbyhisbailiffs 
+and substitutes, thejudges. Those presents, itseemsto have been 
+supposed, could moreeasily be abolished altogether, than effectu- 
+ally regulated and ascertained. Fixed salaries were appointed to 
+
+
+
+thejudges, which were supposed to compensate to them the loss 
+of whatever might have been their share of the ancient emolu- 
+ments of justice; as the taxes more than compensated to thesover- 
+eign thelossof his. J ustice was then said to be administered gratis. 
+
+Justice, however, never was in reality administered gratis in any 
+country. Lawyers and attorneys, at least, must always be paid by the 
+parties; and if they were not, they would perform their duty still 
+worse than they actually perform it. Thefees annually paid to law- 
+yers and attorneys, amount, in every court, to a much greater sum 
+than the salaries of the judges. T he circumstance of those salaries 
+being paid bythecrown, can nowheremuch diminish thenecessary 
+expense of a law-suit. But it was not so much to diminish the ex- 
+pense, as to prevent the corruption of justice, that thejudges were 
+prohibited from receiving my present or fee from the parties. 
+
+The office of judge is in itself so very honourable, that men are 
+willing to accept of it, though accompanied with very small emolu- 
+ments. The inferior office of justice of peace, though attended 
+with a good deal of trouble, and in most cases with no emolu- 
+ments at all, is an object of ambition to the greater part of our 
+country gentlemen. The salaries of all the different judges, high 
+and low, together with the whole expense of the administration 
+and execution of justice, even where it is not managed with very 
+good economy, makes, in any civilized country, butaveryincon- 
+
+
+
+586 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+siderable part of the whole expense of government. 
+
+The whole expense of justice, too, might easily be defrayed by 
+thefeesof court; and, without exposing the ad ministration of jus- 
+tice to any real hazard of corruption, the public revenue might 
+thus be entirely discharged from a certain, though perhaps but a 
+small incumbrance. It is difficult to regulate the fees of court ef- 
+fectually, wherea person so powerful as the sovereign isto sharein 
+them and to derive any considerable part of his revenuefrom them. 
+It is very easy, where the judge is the principal person who can 
+reap any benefit from them. The law can very easily oblige the 
+judge to respect the regulation though it might not always be able 
+to make the sovereign respect it. W here the fees of court are pre- 
+cisely regulated and ascertained where they are paid all at once, at 
+a certain period of every process, into the hands of a cashier or 
+receiver, to be by him distributed in certain known proportions 
+amongthediff erentjudges after theprocessisdecided and not till 
+it isdecided; there seemsto be no moredanger of corruption than 
+when such fees are prohibited altogether. Those fees, without 
+occasioning any considerable increase in theexpense of a law-suit, 
+might be rendered fully sufficient for defraying the wholeexpense 
+of justice. But not being paid to the judges till the process was 
+determined, they might be some incitement to the diligence of 
+thecourt in examining and deciding it. In courts which consisted 
+
+
+
+of a considerable number of judges, by proportioning theshareof 
+each judge to the number of hours and days which he had em- 
+ployed in examining the process, either in thecourt, or in a com- 
+mittee, by order of thecourt, those fees might give some encour- 
+agement to the diligence of each particular judge. Public services 
+are never better performed, than when their reward comes only in 
+consequence of their being performed, and is proportioned to the 
+diligence employed in performing them. In the different parlia- 
+ments of France, the fees of court (called epices and vacations) 
+constitute the far greater part of the emoluments of the judges. 
+After all deductionsaremade, theneat salary paid bythecrown to 
+a counsellor or judgein the parliament of Thoulouse, in rankand 
+dignity the second parliament of the kingdom, amounts only to 
+150 livres, about £6:lls sterling a-year. About seven years ago, 
+that sum was in the same place the ordinary yearly wages of a 
+common footman. The distribution of these epices, too, is ac- 
+cording to the diligence of the judges. A diligent judge gains a 
+comfortable, though moderate revenue, by his office; an idle one 
+gets little more than his salary. Those parliaments are, perhaps, in 
+many respects, not very convenient courts of justice; buttheyhave 
+never been accused; they seem never even to have been suspected 
+of corruption. 
+The fees of court seem originally to have been the principal 
+
+
+
+587 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+support of the different courts of justice in England. Each court 
+endeavoured to draw to itself as much business as it could, and 
+was, upon that account, willing to take cognizance of many suits 
+which were not originally intended to fall under itsjurisdiction. 
+Thecourt of king's bench, instituted for thetrial of criminal causes 
+only, took cognizance of civil suits; the plaintiff pretending that 
+the defendant, in not doing him justice, had been guilty of some 
+trespass or misdemeanour. Thecourt of exchequer, instituted for 
+the levying of the king's revenue, and for enforcing the payment 
+of such debts only as were dueto the king, took cognizance of all 
+other contract debts; the planitiff alleging that he could not pay 
+the king, because the defendant would not pay him. In conse- 
+quence of such fictions, it came, in many cases, to depend alto- 
+gether upon the parties, before what court they would choose to 
+have their cause tried, and each court endeavoured, by superior 
+dispatch and impartiality, to draw to itself as many causes as it 
+could. Thepresentadmirableconstitution of thecourtsof justice 
+in England was, perhaps, originally, in agreat measure, formed by 
+this emulation, which anciently took place between their respec- 
+tivejudges: each judgeendeavouring to give, in hisown court, the 
+speediest and most effectual remedy which the law would admit, 
+for every sort of injustice. riginally, thecourtsof law gavedam- 
+ages only for breach of contract. The court of chancery, as a court 
+
+
+
+of conscience, first took upon it to enforce the specific perfor- 
+mance of agreements. W hen the breach of contract consisted in 
+the non-payment of money, the damage sustained could Decom- 
+pensated in no other way than by ordering payment, which was 
+equivalent to a specific performance of the agreement. In such 
+cases, therefore, the remedy of thecourtsof law was sufficient. It 
+was not so in others. When the tenant sued his lord for having 
+unjustly outed him of his lease, the damages which he recovered 
+were by no means equivalent to the possession of the land. Such 
+causes, therefore, for sometime, went all to thecourt of chancery, 
+to theno small loss of the courts of law. It was to draw back such 
+causes to themselves, that the courts of law are said to have in- 
+vented the artificial and fictitious writ of ejectment, the most ef- 
+fectual remedy for an unjust outer or dispossession of land. 
+
+A stamp-duty upon thelaw proceedings of each particular court, 
+to be levied by that court, and applied towards the maintenance 
+of thejudges, and other officers belonging to it, might in thesame 
+manner, afford a revenue sufficient for defraying the expense of 
+the administration of justice, without bringing any burden upon 
+the general revenue of the society. Thejudges, indeed, might in 
+this case, be under the temptation of multiplying unnecessarily 
+the proceedings upon every cause, in order to increase, asmuch as 
+possible, the produce of such a stamp-duty. It has been the cus- 
+
+
+
+588 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+torn in modern Europeto regulate, upon most occasions, thepay- 
+ment of theattorneys and clerks of court according to thenumber 
+of pages which they had occasion to write; the court, however, 
+requiring that each page should contain so many lines, and each 
+lineso many words. In order to increase their payment, theattor- 
+neys and clerks have contrived to multiply words beyond all ne- 
+cessity, to the corruption of the law language of, I believe, every 
+court of justice in Europe. A like temptation might, perhaps, oc- 
+casi on a I i ke corru pti on i n th e f orm of I aw p roceed i n gs. 
+
+But whether the administration of justice be so contrived as to 
+defray its own expense, or whether the judges be maintained by 
+fixed salaries paid to them from someother fund, it does not seen 
+necessary that the person or persons entrusted with the executive 
+power should be charged with the management of that fund, or 
+with the payment of those salaries. That fund might arise from 
+the rent of landed estates, the management of each estate being 
+entrusted to the particular court which was to be maintained by 
+it. T hat fund might arise even from the interest of a sum of money, 
+thelendingout of which might, in thesamemanner, be entrusted 
+to the court which was to be maintained by it. A part, though 
+indeed but a small part of the salary of the judges of the court of 
+session in Scotland, arises from the interest of a sum of money. 
+Thenecessary instability of such a fund seems, however, to render 
+
+
+
+it an improper one for the maintenance of an institution which 
+ought to last for ever. 
+
+The separation of thejudicial from the executive power, seems 
+originally to have arisen from the increasing business of the soci- 
+ety, in consequence of its increasing improvement. The adminis- 
+tration of justice becameso laborious and so complicated a duty, 
+as to require theundivided attention of theperson to whom it was 
+entrusted. The person entrusted with the executive power, not 
+having lei sure to attend to thedecision of private causeshimself, a 
+deputy was appointed to decidethem in hisstead. Intheprogress 
+of the Roman greatness, the consul was too much occupied with 
+thepolitical affairs of the state, to attend to the administration of 
+justice. A praetor, therefore, was appointed to administer it in his 
+stead. In the progress of the European monarchies, which were 
+founded upontheruinsoftheRoman empire, the sovereign sand 
+thegreat lords came universally to consider the administration of 
+justice as an officeboth too laboriousand too ignoblefor them to 
+executein theirown persons. They universally, therefore, discharged 
+themselves of it, by appointing a deputy, bailiff or judge. 
+
+When thejudicial is united to the executive power, it is scarce 
+possible that justice should notfrequently besacrificed to what is 
+vulgarly called politics. The persons entrusted with thegreat in- 
+terests of the state may even without any corrupt views, some- 
+
+
+
+589 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+times imagine it necessary to sacrifice to those interests the rights 
+of a private man. But upon theimpartial administration of justice 
+depends the liberty of every individual, thesense which hehasof 
+his own security. In order to make every individual feel himself 
+perfectly secure in the possession of every right which belongs to 
+him, it is not only necessary that thejudicial should be separated 
+from the executive power, but that it should be rendered as much 
+as possible independent of that power. The judge should not be 
+liable to be removed from his office according to the caprice of 
+that power. T he regular payment of his salary should not depend 
+upon thegood will, or even upon thegood economy of that power. 
+
+
+
+PART III 
+
+f the Expense of public Works and public Institutions 
+
+The third and last duty of the sovereign or commonwealth, is 
+that of erecting and maintaining those public institutionsand those 
+public works, which though they may be in the highest degree ad- 
+van tageousto a great society, are, however, of such a nature, that the 
+profit could never repay the expense to any individual, or small 
+number of individuals; and which it, therefore, cannot be expected 
+that any individual, or small number of individuals, should erect or 
+maintain. Theperformanceofthisduty requires, too, verydifferent 
+degrees of expense i n the different periods of society. 
+
+After the public institutionsand public works necessary for the 
+defence of the society, and for the administration of justice, both 
+of which have already been mentioned, theother works and insti- 
+tutionsofthiskind are chiefly for facilitating thecommerceof the 
+society, and those for promoting the instruction of the people. 
+The institutions for instruction are of two kinds: those for the 
+education of theyouth, and those for the instruction of peopleof 
+all ages.Theconsideration of the manner in which theexpenseof 
+those different sortsof public works and institutionsmay bemost 
+properly defrayed will dividethisthird part of the present chapter 
+
+
+
+590 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+into three different articles. 
+
+ARTICLE I. - Of the public Works and Institutions for fa- 
+cilitating the Commerce of the Society. 
+
+And, first, of those which are necessary for facilitating Com- 
+merce in general. 
+
+That the erection and maintenance of the public works which 
+facilitate thecommerceof any country, such asgood roads, bridges, 
+navigable canals, harbours, etc. must require very different de- 
+greesof expensein thedifferent periodsof society, isevident with- 
+out any proof. T heexpenseof making and maintaining the public 
+roadsof any country must evidently increase with theannual pro- 
+duce of the land and labour of that country, or with the quantity 
+and weight of the goods which it becomes necessary to fetch and 
+carry upon those roads. The strength of abridgemust be suited to 
+the number and weight of the carriages which are likdy to pass 
+over it. The depth and the supply of water for a navigable canal 
+must be proportioned to the number and tonnage of the lighters 
+which arelikdy to carry goodsupon it; the extent of a harbour, to 
+the number of the shipping which are I i kely to take shelter i n it. 
+
+1 1 does not seem necessary th at theexpenseofthosepublic works 
+should be defrayed from that public revenue, as it is commonly 
+called, of which the collection and application are in most coun- 
+
+
+
+tries, assigned to the executive power. The greater part of such 
+public works may easily be so managed, as to afford a particular 
+revenue, sufficient for defraying thar own expense without bring- 
+ing any burden upon the general revenue of the society. 
+
+A highway, a bridge, a navigable canal, for example, may, in 
+most cases, be both madeadd maintained byasmall toll upon the 
+carriages which makeuseof them; a harbour, by a moderate port- 
+duty upon thetonnageoftheshipping which load or unload in it. 
+Thecoinage, another institution for facilitating commerce, in many 
+countries, not only defrays its own expense, but affords a small 
+revenue or a sagnorageto the soveragn. The post-office, another 
+institution for thesame purpose, over and above defraying its own 
+expense, affords, in almost all countries, a very considerable rev- 
+enue to the soveragn. 
+
+When the carriages which pass over a highway or a bridge, and 
+thelighters which sail upon a navigable canal, pay toll in propor- 
+tion to thar waght or thar tonnage, they pay for the mainte- 
+nanceofthosepublic works exactly in proportion to the wear and 
+tear which they occasion of them. It seems scarce possible to in- 
+vent a more equitable way of maintaining such works. T his tax or 
+toll, too, though itisadvanced bythecarrier, isfinally paid by the 
+consumer, to whom it must always be charged in the price of the 
+goods. As the expense of carriage, however, is very much reduced 
+
+
+
+591 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+by means of such public works, the goods, notwithstanding the 
+toll, come cheaper to the consumer than they could otherwise 
+have done, their price not being so much raised by the toll, as it is 
+lowered by the cheapness of the carriage. The person who finally 
+pays this tax, therefore, gains by the application more than he 
+loses by the payment of it. His payment isexactly in proportion to 
+hisgain. Itis, in reality, no more than a part of that gain which he 
+is obliged to give up, in order to get the rest. It seems impossible 
+to imagine a more equitable method of raising a tax. 
+
+When the toll upon carriages of luxury, upon coaches, post- 
+chaises, etc. ismadesomewhat higher in proportion to theirweight, 
+than upon carriages of necessary use, such as carts, waggons, etc. 
+the indolence and vanity of the rich is made to contribute, in a 
+very easy manner, to the relief of the poor, by rendering cheaper 
+the transportation of heavy goods to all the different parts of the 
+country. 
+
+When high-roads, bridges, canals, etc. are in this manner made 
+and supported by the commerce which is carried on by means of 
+them, they can bemadeonly where that commerce requires them, 
+and, consequently, where it is proper to make them. Their ex- 
+pense, too, their grandeur and magnificence, must be suited to 
+what that commerce can afford to pay. T hey must be made, con- 
+sequently, as it is proper to make them. A magnificent high-road 
+
+
+
+cannot be made through a desert country, where there is little or 
+no commerce, or merely because it happens to lead to the country 
+villa of the intendant of the province, or to that of some great 
+lord, to whom theintendantfindsitconvenienttomakehiscourt. 
+A great bridge cannot be thrown over a river at a place where 
+nobody passes, or merely to embellish theview from the windows 
+of a neighbouring pal ace; things which sometimes happen in coun- 
+tries, where works of this kin dare carried on by any other revenue 
+than that which they themselves are capable of affording. 
+
+I n several different parts of Europe, thetoll or lock-duty upon a 
+canal is the property of private persons, whose private interest 
+obliges them to keep up the canal. If it is not kept in tolerable 
+order, thenavigation necessarily ceases altogether, and, along with 
+it, the whole profit which they can make by the tolls If those tolls 
+wereput under themanagement of commissioners, who had them- 
+selves no interest in them, they might beless attentive to themain- 
+tenance of the works which produced them. The canal of 
+Languedoc cost the king of France and the province upwards of 
+thirteen millionsof livres, which (at twenty-eight livres the mark 
+of silver, the value of French money in the end of the last century) 
+amounted to upwardsof ninehundred thousand poundssterling. 
+When that great work was finished, the most likely method, it 
+was found, of keeping it in constant repair, was to make a present 
+
+
+
+592 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+of the tolls to Riquet, the engineer who planned and conducted 
+the work. T hose tolls constitute, at present, a very large estate to 
+the different branches of the family of that gentleman, who have, 
+therefore, a great interest to keep the work in constant repair. But 
+had those tolls been put under the management of commission- 
+ers, who had no such interest, they might perhaps, have been dis- 
+sipated in ornamental and unnecessary expenses, while the most 
+essential parts of the works were allowed to go to ruin. 
+
+T he tolls for the maintenance of a highroad cannot, with any 
+safety, be madethe property of privatepersons. A high-road, though 
+entirely neglected, does not become altogether impassable, though 
+a canal does. T he proprietors of the tolls upon a high-road, there 
+fore, might neglect altogether the repair of the road, and yet con- 
+tinueto levy very nearly the sametolls. It is proper, therefore, that 
+thetollsfor the maintenance of such a work should beput under 
+the management of commissioners or trustees. 
+
+In Great Britain, the abuses which the trustees have committed 
+in the management of those tolls, have, in many cases, been very 
+justly complained of. At many turnpikes, it has been said, the 
+money levied ismorethan doubleof what is necessary for execut- 
+ing, in the completest manner, the work, which is often executed 
+in a very slovenly manner, and sometimes not executed at all. The 
+system of repairing the high-roads by tolls of this kind, it must be 
+
+
+
+observed, is not of very long standing. We should not wonder, 
+therefore, if it has not yet been brought to that degree of perfec- 
+tion of which it seems capable. If mean and improper persons are 
+frequently appointed trustees; and if proper courts of inspection 
+and account have not yet been established for controlling their 
+conduct, and for reducing thetollsto what is barely sufficient for 
+executing the work to be done by them; the recency of the institu- 
+tion both accounts and apologizes for those defects, of which, by 
+the wisdom of parliament, the greater part may, in due time, be 
+gradually remedied. 
+
+The money levied at the different turnpikes in Great Britain, is 
+supposed to exceed so much what is necessary for repairing the 
+roads, that the savings which, with proper economy, might be 
+madefrom it, have been considered, even by some ministers, asa 
+very great resource, which might, at some time or another, be 
+applied to the exigencies of the state. Government, it has been 
+said, by takingthemanagement of theturnpikesintoitsown hands, 
+and by employing the soldiers, who would work for a very small 
+addition to their pay, could keep the roads in good order, at a 
+much less expense than it can be done by trustees, who have no 
+other workmen to employ, but such as derive their whole subsis- 
+tence from their wages. A great revenue, half a million, perhaps 
+{Since publishing the two first editions of this book, I have got 
+
+
+
+593 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+good reasons to believe that all the turnpike tolls levied in Great 
+Britain do not producea neat revenuethat amounts to half a mil- 
+lion; a sum which, under the management of government, would 
+not besufficientto keep, in repairfiveof theprincipal roadsin the 
+kingdom}, it has been pretended, might in thismanner be gained, 
+without laying any new burden upon the people; and the turn- 
+pikeroads might bemade to contribute to thegeneral expenseof 
+the state, in the same manner as the post-office does at present. 
+
+That a considerable revenue might be gained in thismanner, I 
+have no doubt, though probably not near so much as the projec- 
+tors of this plan have supposed. The plan itself, however, seems 
+liable to several very important objections. 
+
+First, If thetollswhich arelevied attheturnpikesshould ever be 
+considered as one of the resources for supplying the exigencies of 
+the state, they would certainly be augmented as those exigencies 
+were supposed to require. According to the policy of Great Brit- 
+ain, therefore, they would probably he augmented very fast. The 
+facility with which a great revenue could be drawn from them, 
+would probably encourage administration to recur very frequently 
+te this resource. Though it may, perhaps, be more than doubtful 
+whether half a million could by any economy be saved out of the 
+present tolls, it can scarcely be doubted, but that a million might 
+be saved out of them, if they were doubled; and perhaps two mil- 
+
+
+
+lions, if they were tripled {I have now good reason to believe that 
+all these conjectural sums are by much too large.}. This great rev- 
+enue, too, might be levied without the appointment of a single new 
+officer to collect and receive it. But the turnpike tolls, being con- 
+tinually augmented in thismanner, instead of faci I itati ng the i n land 
+commerce of the country, as at present, would soon become a very 
+great incumbrance upon it. The expense of transporting all heavy 
+goods from one part of the country to another, would soon be so 
+much increased, themarketfor all such goods, consequently, would 
+soon be so much narrowed, that their production would be in a 
+great measurediscouraged, and themost important branches of the 
+domestic industry of the country annihilated altogether. 
+
+Secondly, A tax upon carriages, in proportion to their weight, 
+though a very equal tax when applied to the sole purpose of re- 
+pai ring the roads, isa very unequal onewhen applied to any other 
+purpose, or to supply the common exigencies of the state. W hen 
+it is applied to the sole purpose above mentioned, each carriage is 
+supposed to pay exactly for the wear and tear which that carriage 
+occasions of the roads. But when it is applied to any other pur- 
+pose, each carriage is sup posed to pay for more than that wear and 
+tear, and contributes to the supply of some other exigency of the 
+state. Butastheturnpiketoll raises the price of goods in propor- 
+tion to their weight and not to their value, it ischiefly paid by the 
+
+
+
+594 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+consumers of coarse and bulky, not by those of precious and light 
+commodities. W hatever exigency of the state, therefore, this tax 
+might be intended to supply, that exigency would be chiefly sup- 
+plied at the expense of the poor, not of the rich; at the expense of 
+those who are least able to supply it, not of those who are most 
+able. 
+
+Thirdly, If government should at any time neglect the repara- 
+tion of the high-roads, it would be still more difficult, than itisat 
+present, to compel the proper application of any part of theturn- 
+pike tolls. A large revenue might thus be levied upon the people, 
+without any part of it being applied to the only purpose to which 
+a revenue levied in this manner ought ever to be applied. If the 
+meanness and poverty of the trustees of turnpike roads render it 
+sometimesdiffi cult, at present, to oblige them to repair their wrong; 
+their wealth and greatness would render it ten times more so in 
+the case which is here supposed. 
+
+In France, the funds destined for the reparation of the high- 
+roads are under the immediate direction of the executive power. 
+Those funds consist, partly in a certain number of days labour, 
+which the country people are in most parts of Europe obliged to 
+give to the reparation of the highways; and partly in such a por- 
+tion of thegeneral revenueof thestate as theking chooses to spare 
+from his other expenses. 
+
+
+
+By the ancient law of France, as well as by that of most other 
+parts of Europe, the labour of the country people was under the 
+direction of a local or provincial magistracy, which had no imme- 
+diate dependency upon the king's council. But, by the present 
+practice, both thelabourof thecountry people, and whatever other 
+fund the king may choose to assign for thereparation of thehigh- 
+roads in any particular province or generality, are entirely under 
+the management of the intendant; an officer who is appointed 
+and removed by theking's council who receives hisorders from it, 
+and is in constant correspondence with it. In the progress of des- 
+potism, the authority of the executive power gradually absorbs 
+that of every other power in the state, and assumes to itself the 
+management of every branch of revenue which isdestined for any 
+public purpose. I n France, however, thegreat post-roads, theroads 
+which make the communication between the principal towns of 
+the kingdom, are in general kept in good order; and, in some 
+provinces, are even a good deal superior to the greater part of the 
+turnpike roads of England. But what we call the cross roads, that 
+is, the far greater part of the roads in the country, are entirely 
+neglected, and are in many places absolutely impassable for any 
+heavy carriage. In some places it is even dangerous to travel on 
+horseback, and mules are theonly conveyance which can safely be 
+trusted. The proud minister of an ostentatious court, may fre- 
+
+
+
+595 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+quently take pleasure in executing a work of splendour and mag- 
+nificence, such as a great highway, which is frequently seen by the 
+principal nobility, whose applauses not only flatter his vanity, but 
+even contribute to support his interest at court. But to execute a 
+great number of little works, in which nothing that can be done 
+can make any great appearance, or excite the smallest degree of 
+admiration in any traveller, and which, in short, have nothing to 
+recommend them but their extreme utility, is a business which 
+appears, in every respect, too mean and paltry to merit the atten- 
+tion of so great a magistrate. Under such an administration there- 
+fore, such works are almost always entirely neglected. 
+
+In China, and in several other governments of Asia, the execu- 
+tive power charges itself both with the reparation of the high- 
+roads, and with the maintenance of the navigable canals In the 
+instructions which are given to the governor of each province, 
+those objects, it is said, are constantly recommended to him, and 
+the judgment which the court forms of his conduct is very much 
+regulated by the attention which he appears to have paid to this 
+part of hisinstructions Thisbranch of public police, accordingly, 
+is said to be very much attended to in all those countries, but 
+particularly in China, where the high-roads, and still more the 
+navigable canals, it is pretended, exceed very much everything of 
+the same kind which is known in Europe. T he accounts of those 
+
+
+
+works, however, which have been transmitted to Europe, have gen- 
+erally been drawn up by weak and wondering travellers; frequently 
+by stupid and lying missionaries. If they had been examined by 
+more intelligent eyes, and if the accounts of them had been re- 
+ported by more faithful witnesses, they would not, perhaps, ap- 
+pear to be so wonderful. Theaccount which Bernier gives of some 
+works of this kind in Indostan, falls very short of what had been 
+reported of them by other travellers, moredisposed tothemarvel- 
+lousthan he was. It may too, perhaps, be in those countries, as it 
+is in France, where the great roads, the great communications, 
+which arelikelyto be thesubjectsof conversation at thecourt and 
+in thecapital, are attended to, and all therest neglected. In C hina, 
+besides, in Indostan, and in several other governments of Asia, the 
+revenue of the sovereign arises almost altogether from a land tax 
+or land rent, which rises or falls with theriseand fall of theannual 
+produceof the land. Thegreat interest of the sovereign, therefore, 
+his revenue, is in such countries necessarily and immediately con- 
+nected with the cultivation of the land, with the greatness of its 
+produce, and with the value of its produce. But in order to render 
+that produce both as great and as valuable as possible, it is neces- 
+sary to procure to it as extensive a market as possible, and conse- 
+quently to establish thefreest, theeasiest, and the least expensive 
+communication between all the different parts of the country; 
+
+
+
+596 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+which can be done only by means of the best roads and the best 
+navigable canals. But the revenue of thesovereign doesnot, in any 
+part of Europe, arise chiefly from a land tax or land rent. I n all the 
+great kingdoms of Europe, perhaps, the greater part of it may 
+ultimately depend upon the produce of the land: but that depen- 
+dency is neither so immediate nor so evident. In Europe, there- 
+fore, thesovereign does not fed himself so directly called upon to 
+promote the increase, both in quantity and value of the produce 
+of theland, or, by maintaining good roadsand canals, to provide 
+the most extensive market for that produce. T hough it should be 
+true, therefore, what I apprehend is not a little doubtful, that in 
+some parts of Asia this department of the public police is very 
+properly managed by the executive power, there is not the least 
+probability that, during the present state of things, it could be 
+tolerably managed by that power in any part of Europe. 
+
+Even those public works, which are of such a nature that they 
+cannot afford any revenueformaintainingthem selves, but of which 
+the conveniency is nearly confined to some particular place or 
+district, are always better maintained by a local or provincial rev- 
+enue, under the management of a local and provincial administra- 
+tion, than by the general revenue of the state, of which the execu- 
+tive power must alwayshave the management. Were thestreets of 
+London to be lighted and paved at the expense of the treasury, is 
+
+
+
+there any probability that they would be so well lighted and paved 
+as they are at present, or even at so small an expense?T he expense, 
+besides, instead of being raised by a local tax upon the inhabitants 
+of each particular street, parish, or district in London, would, in 
+this case, be defrayed out of the general revenue of the state, and 
+would consequently be raised byataxupon all theinhabitantsof 
+the kingdom, of whom the greater part derive no sort of benefit 
+from the lighting and paving of the streets of London. 
+
+Theabuses which sometimes creep intothelocal and provincial 
+administration of a local and provincial revenue, how enormous 
+soever they may appear, arein reality, however, almost always very 
+trifling in comparison of those which commonly take place in the 
+administration and expenditure of the revenue of a great empire. 
+They are, besides, much more easily corrected. Under the local or 
+provincial administration of thejustices of thepeacein Great Brit- 
+ain, the six days labour which the country people are obliged to 
+give to the reparation of the highways, isnot always, perhaps, very 
+judiciously applied, but it is scarce ever exacted with any circum- 
+stance of cruelty or oppression. In France, under the administra- 
+tion of the intendants, the application is not always more judi- 
+cious, and the exaction is frequently the most cruel and oppres- 
+sive. Such corvees, as they are called, make one of the principal 
+instruments of tyranny by which those officers chastise any parish 
+
+
+
+597 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+or communeaute, which hashadthemisfortuneto fall under their 
+displeasure. 
+
+Of the public Works and Institution which are necessary for 
+facilitating particular Branches of Commerce. 
+
+T heobject of the public works and institutions above mentioned, 
+isto facilitate commercein general. Butin order to facilitate some 
+particular branchesof it, particular institutionsarenecessary, which 
+again require a particular and extraordinary expense. 
+
+Some particular branches of commerce which are carried on 
+with barbarousand uncivilized nations, require extraordinary pro- 
+tection. An ordinary store or counting-house could give little se- 
+curity to the goods of the merchants who trade to the western 
+coast of Africa. To defend them from the barbarous natives, it is 
+necessary that the place where they are deposited should be in 
+some measure fortified. The disorders in the government of 
+Indostan have been supposed to render a like precaution neces- 
+sary, even among that mild and gentle people; and it was under 
+pretence of securing their persons and property from violence, 
+that both the English and French East India companies were al- 
+lowed to erect thefirst forts which they possessed in that country. 
+Among other nations, whose vigorous government will suffer no 
+
+
+
+strangers to possess any fortified place within their territory, it 
+may be necessary to maintain some ambassador, minister, or con- 
+sul, who may both decide, according to their own customs, the 
+differences arising among his own countrymen, and, in their dis- 
+putes with the natives, may by means of his public character, in- 
+terfere with moreauthorityand afford them a more powerful pro- 
+tection than they could expect from any private man. T he inter- 
+ests of commerce have frequently made it necessary to maintain 
+ministersin foreign countries, where thepurposes either of war or 
+alliance would not have required any. T he commerce of theTur- 
+key company first occasioned the establishment of an ordinary 
+ambassador at Constantinople. The first English embassies to 
+Russia arose altogether from commercial interests. The constant 
+interference with those interests, necessarily occasioned between 
+the subjects of the different states of Europe, has probably intro- 
+duced the custom of keeping, in all neighbouring countries, am- 
+bassadorsor ministersconstantly resident, even in thetimeof peace. 
+This custom, unknown to ancient times, seems not to be older 
+than the end of the fifteenth, or beginning of the sixteenth cen- 
+tury; that is, than thetimewhen commerce first began to extend 
+itself to the greater part of the nations of Europe, and when they 
+first began to attend to its interests. 
+It seems not unreasonable, that the extraordinary expensewhich 
+
+
+
+598 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+the protection of any particular branch of commerce may occa- 
+sion, should be defrayed by a moderate tax upon that particular 
+branch; by a moderate fine, for example, to be paid bythetraders 
+when they first enter into it; or, what ismore equal, by a particular 
+duty of so much per cent, upon the goods which they either im- 
+port into, or export out of, the particular countries with which it 
+iscarried on. The protection of trade, in general, from pirates and 
+freebooters, issaid to have given occasion to thefirst institution of 
+the duties of customs. But, if it was thought reasonable to lay a 
+general tax upon trade, in order to defray the expense of protect- 
+ing trade in general, it should seem equally reasonable to lay a 
+particular tax upon a particular branch of trade, in order to defray 
+the extraordinary expense of protecting that branch. 
+
+The protection of trade, in general, has always been considered 
+as essential to the defence of the commonwealth, and, upon that 
+account, a necessary part of the duty of the executive power. T he 
+collection and application ofthegeneral dutiesof customs, there 
+fore, have always been left to that power. But the protection of 
+any particular branch of trade is a part of the general protection of 
+trade; a part, therefore, of the duty of that power; and if nations 
+always acted consistently, the particular duties levied for the pur- 
+poses of such particular protection, should always have been left 
+equally to itsdisposal. But in thisrespect, as well asin many oth- 
+
+
+
+ers, nations have not always acted consistently; and in the greater 
+part of the commercial states of Europe, particular companies of 
+merchants have had the address to persuade the legislature to en- 
+trust to them the performance of this part of the duty of the sov- 
+ereign, together with all the powers which are necessarily con- 
+nected with it. 
+
+These companies, though they may, perhaps, have been useful 
+for thefirst introduction of some branches of commerce, by mak- 
+ing, at their own expense, an experiment which the state might 
+not think it prudent to make, have in the long-run proved, uni- 
+versally, either burdensome or useless, and have either misman- 
+aged or confined the trade. 
+
+When those companies do not trade upon a joint stock, but are 
+obliged to admit any person, properly qualified, upon paying a 
+certain fine, and agreeingto submit to theregulationsofthecom- 
+pany, each member trading upon his own stock, and at his own 
+risk, they are called regulated companies. W hen they tradeupon a 
+joint stock, each member sharing in the common profit or loss, in 
+proportion to his share in this stock, they are called joint-stock 
+companies. Such companies, whether regulated or joint-stock, 
+sometimes have, and sometimes have not, exclusive privileges. 
+
+Regulated companies resemble, in every respect, the corpora- 
+tion of trades, so common in the cities and towns of all thediffer- 
+
+
+
+599 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+ent countries of Europe; and area sort of enlarged monopoliesof 
+the same kind. As no inhabitant of a town can exercise an incor- 
+porated trade, without first obtaining hisfreedom in theincorpo- 
+ration, so, in most cases, no subject of the state can lawfully carry 
+on any branch of foreign trade, for which a regulated company is 
+established, without first becoming a member of that company. 
+The monopoly is more or less strict, according as the terms of 
+admission aremore or lessdiffi cult, and according as thedirectors 
+of thecompany havemoreor less authority, or haveit more or less 
+in their power to man agein such a manner as to confinethegreater 
+part of the trade to themselves and their particular friends. In the 
+most ancient regulated companies, the privileges of apprentice- 
+ship were the same as in other corporations, and entitled the per- 
+son who had served his time to a member of the company, to 
+becomehimself a member, either without paying any fine, or upon 
+paying a much smaller onethan what was exacted of other people. 
+Theusual corporation spirit, wherever the law does not restrain it, 
+prevails in all regulated companies. When they have been allowed 
+to act according to their natural genius, they have always, in order 
+to confine the competition to as small a number of persons as 
+possible, endeavoured to subject the trade to many burdensome 
+regulations. When the law has restrained them from doing this, 
+they have become altogether useless and insignificant. 
+
+
+
+T heregulated companiesfor foreign commerce which at present 
+subsist in G reat Britain, aretheanci ent merchant-adventurerscom- 
+pany, now commonly called the H amburgh company, the Russia 
+company, the Eastland company, the Turkey company, and the 
+African company. 
+
+The terms of admission into the Hamburgh company are now 
+said to be quite easy; and the directors either haveit not in their 
+power to subject the trade to any troublesome restraint or regula- 
+tions, or, at least, have not of late exercised that power. It has not 
+always been so. About the middle of the last century, the fine for 
+admission was fifty, and atonetimeonehundred pounds, and the 
+conduct of the company was said to be extremely oppressive. In 
+1643, in 1645, and in 1661, the clothiers and free traders of the 
+west of England complained of them to parliament, as of mo- 
+nopolists, who confined the trade, and oppressed the manufac- 
+turesofthecountry.Though those complaintsproducednoact of 
+parliament, they had probably intimidated thecompany so far, as 
+to oblige them to reform their conduct. Since that time, at least, 
+there have been no complaints against them. By the 10th and 
+11th of W illiam III. c.6, the fine for admission into the Russia 
+company was reduced to five pounds; and by the 25th of C harles 
+II. c.7, that for admission into the Eastland company to forty 
+shillings; while, at the same time, Sweden, Denmark, and Nor- 
+
+
+
+600 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+way, all the countries on the north side of the Baltic, were ex- 
+empted from their exclusive charter. The conduct of those com- 
+panies had probably given occasion to those two acts of parlia- 
+ment. Before that time, Sir Josiah Child had represented both 
+these and the H amburgh company as extremely oppressive, and 
+imputed to their bad management thelowstateofthetrade, which 
+we at that time carried on to the countries comprehended within 
+their respective charters. But though such companies may not, in 
+the present times, be very oppressive, they are certainly altogether 
+useless. To be merely useless, indeed, is perhaps, the highest eu- 
+logy which can ever justly be bestowed upon a regulated com- 
+pany; and all thethree companies above mentioned seem, in their 
+present state, to deserve this eulogy. 
+
+T he fine for admission into theTurkey company was formerly 
+twenty-five pounds for all persons under twenty-six years of age, 
+and fifty poundsfor all persons above that age. N obody but mere 
+merchantscould be admitted; a restriction which excluded all shop- 
+keepers and retailers. Byabye-law, no British manufactures could 
+be exported to Turkey but in the general ships of the company; 
+and as those ships sailed always from the port of London, this 
+restriction confined thetradeto that expensive port, and thetrad- 
+ersto those who lived in London and in its neighbourhood. By 
+another bye- 1 aw, no person living within twenty milesof London, 
+
+
+
+and not free of the city, could be admitted a member; another 
+restriction which, joined to theforegoing, necessarily excluded all 
+but the freemen of London. As the time for the loading and sail- 
+ing of those general shipsdep ended altogether upon thedirectors, 
+they could easily fill them with their own goods, and those of 
+their particular friends, to theexdusion of others, who, they might 
+pretend, had made their proposals too late. In thisstateof things, 
+therefore, this company was, in every respect, a strict and oppres- 
+sive monopoly. T hose abuses gave occasion to the act of the 26th 
+of George II. c. 18, reducing the fine for admission to twenty 
+pounds for all persons, without any distinction of ages, or any 
+restriction, either to mere merchants, or to the freemen of Lon- 
+don; and granting to all such persons the liberty of exporting, 
+from all the ports of Great Britain, to any port in Turkey, all Brit- 
+ish goods, of which the exportation wasnot prohibited, upon pay- 
+ing both the general duties of customs, and the particular duties 
+assessed for defrayi ng the necessary expenses of the company; and 
+submitting, at thesametime, to thelawful authority of theBritish 
+ambassador and consuls resident in Turkey, and to thebye-lawsof 
+the company duly enacted. To prevent any oppression by those 
+bye-laws, it was by the same act ordained, that if any seven mem- 
+bers of the company conceived themselves aggrieved by any bye- 
+law which should be enacted after the passing of this act, they 
+
+
+
+601 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+might appeal to the board of trade and plantations (to the author- 
+ity of which acommitteeoftheprivy council has now succeeded), 
+provided such appeal was brought within twelve months after the 
+bye-law was enacted; and that, if any seven members conceived 
+themselves aggrieved by any bye-law which had been enacted be- 
+fore the passing of this act, they might bring a like appeal, pro- 
+vided it was within twelve monthsafter the day on which thisact 
+was to take place. T he experience of one year, however, may not 
+always be sufficient to discover to all the members of a great com- 
+pany the pernicious tendency of a particular bye-law; and if sev- 
+eral of them should afterwards discover it, neither the board of 
+trade, nor the committee of council, can afford them any redress. 
+The object, besides, of the greater part of the bye-laws of all regu- 
+lated companies, as well as of all other corporations, is not so much 
+to oppress those who are already members, as to discourage others 
+from becoming so; which may be done, not only by a high fine, 
+but by many other contrivances. T he constant view of such com- 
+panies is always to raise therateof their own profit as high as they 
+can; to keep the market, both for the goods which they export, 
+and for those which they import, as much understocked as they 
+can; which can bedoneonly by restraining thecompetition, or by 
+discouraging new ad venturersfrom entering into thetrade. A fine, 
+even of twenty pounds, besides, though it may not, perhaps, be 
+
+
+
+sufficient to discourage any man from entering into theTurkey 
+trade, with an intention to continue in it, may be enough to dis- 
+couragea speculative merchant from hazarding a singleadventu re 
+in it. In all trades, the regular established traders, even though not 
+incorporated, naturally combineto raiseprofits, which arenoway 
+so likely to be kept, at all times, down to their proper level, as by 
+the occasional competition of speculative adventurers. The Tur- 
+key trade, though in some measure laid open by thisact of parlia- 
+ment, is still considered by many people as very far from being 
+altogether free. TheTurkey company contribute to maintain an 
+ambassador and two or threeconsuls, who, likeother public min- 
+isters, ought to be maintained altogether by the state, and the 
+trade laid open to all his majesty's subjects. The different taxes 
+levied by the company, for this and other corporation purposes, 
+might afford a revenue much more than sufficient to enable a 
+state to maintain such ministers. 
+
+Regulated companies, it wasobserved by Sir Josi ah Child, though 
+they had frequently supported public ministers, had never main- 
+tained anyfortsor garrisonsin thecountriesto which they traded; 
+whereasjoint-stock companies frequently had. And, in reality, the 
+former seem to be much more unfit for this sort of service than 
+thelatter. First, the directors of a regulated companyhaveno par- 
+ticular interest in the prosperity of the general trade of the com- 
+
+
+
+602 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+pany, for the sake of which such forts and garrisons are main- 
+tained. T he decay of that general trade may even frequently con- 
+tribute to the advantage of their own private trade; as, by dimin- 
+ishing the number of their competitors, it may enable them both 
+to buy cheaper, and to sell dearer. The directors of a joint-stock 
+company, on the contrary, having only their share in the profits 
+which are made upon the common stock committed to their man- 
+agement, haveno private tradeof their own, of which the interest 
+can be separated from that of the general trade of the company. 
+T heir private interest is connected with the prosperity of the gen- 
+eral tradeof the company, and with the maintenance of the forts 
+and garrisons which are necessary for its defence. T hey are more 
+likely, therefore, to have that continual and careful attention which 
+that maintenance necessarily requires. Secondly, The directors of 
+a joint-stock company have always the management of a large 
+capital, thejoint stock of the company, a part of which they may 
+frequently employ, with propriety, in building, repairing, and 
+maintaining such necessary forts and garrisons. But the directors 
+of a regulated company, having the management of no common 
+capital, have no other fund to employ in this way, but the casual 
+revenue arising from the admission fines, and from the corpora- 
+tion duties imposed upon thetrade of the company. Though they 
+had the same interest, therefore, to attend to the maintenance of 
+
+
+
+such forts and garrisons, they can seldom havethesameability to 
+render that attention effectual. T he maintenance of a public min- 
+ister, requiring scarce any attention, and but a moderate and lim- 
+ited expense, isa business much more suitable both to thetemper 
+and abilities of a regulated company. 
+
+Long after the time of Sir J osiah Child, however, in 1750, a 
+regulated company was established, the present company of mer- 
+chants trading to Africa; which was expressly charged at first with 
+the maintenance of all the British forts and garrisons that lie be- 
+tween Cape Blanc and the Cape of Good H ope, and afterwards 
+with that of those only which lie between Cape Rouge and the 
+Capeof Good H ope. Theact which establishes thiscompany (the 
+23rd of George 1 1, c.51 ), seems to have had two distinct objects 
+in view; first, to restrain effectually theoppressive and monopoliz- 
+ing spirit which isnatural to thedirectors of a regulated company; 
+and, secondly, to force them, asmuch aspossible, to give an atten- 
+tion, which is not natural to them, to wards the maintenance of 
+forts and garrisons. 
+
+For thefirst of these purposes, thefinefor admission is limited 
+to forty shillings. Thecompany is prohibited from trading in their 
+corporate capacity, or upon a joint stock; from borrowing money 
+upon common seal, or from laying any restraints upon thetrade, 
+which may be carried on freely from all places, and by all persons 
+
+
+
+603 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+being British subjects, and paying thefine.Thegovernment isin 
+a committee of nine persons, who meet at London, but who are 
+chosen annually by thefreem en of thecompany at London, Bristol, 
+and Liverpool; three from each place. N o committeeman can be 
+continued in office for more than three years together. Any com- 
+mittee-man might be removed by the board of trade and planta- 
+tions, now by a committeeof council, after being heard in hisown 
+defence. The committee are forbid to export negroes from Africa, 
+or to import any African goodsinto Great Britain. But as they are 
+charged with the maintenance of forts and garrisons, they may, 
+for that purpose export from Great Britain to Africa goods and 
+stores of different kinds. Out of the moneys which they shall re 
+ceive from the company, they are allowed a sum, not exceeding 
+eight hundred pounds, for the salaries of their clerks and agents at 
+London, Bristol, and Liverpool, the house-rent of their offices at 
+London, and all other expenses of management, commission, and 
+agency, in England. What remains of this sum, after defraying 
+these different expenses, they may divide among themselves, as 
+compensation for their trouble, in what manner they think proper. 
+By this constitution, it might have been expected, that the spirit 
+of monopoly would have been effectually restrained, and thefirst 
+of these purposes sufficiently answered. It would seem, however, 
+that it had not. Though by the 4th of George 1 1 I.e. 20, the fort of 
+
+
+
+Senegal, with all its dependencies, had been invested in the com- 
+pany of merchants trading to Africa, yet, in theyear following (by 
+the 5th of G eorge III. c.44), not only Senegal and its dependen- 
+cies, but the whole coast, from the port of Sallee, in South Bar- 
+bary, to Cape Rouge, was exempted from the jurisdiction of that 
+company, was vested in thecrown, and thetradeto it declared free 
+to all his majesty's subjects. Thecompany had been suspected of 
+restraining the trade and of establishing some sort of improper 
+monopoly. It is not, however, very easy to conceive how, under 
+the regulations of the 23d George II. they could do so. In the 
+printed debates of the house of commons, not always the most 
+authentic recordsof truth, I observe, however, that they have been 
+accused of this. The members of the committee of nine being all 
+merchants, and the governors and factors in their different forts 
+and settlements being all dependent upon them, it is not unlikely 
+that thelatter might have given peculiar attention totheconsign- 
+ments and commissions of the former, which would establish a 
+real monopoly. 
+
+For the second of these purposes, the maintenance of the forts 
+and garrisons, an annual sum has been allotted to them by parlia- 
+ment, generally about £13,000. For the proper application of this 
+sum, the committee is obliged to account annually to thecursitor 
+baron of exchequer; which account is afterwards to belaid before 
+
+
+
+604 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+parliament. But parliament, which gives so little attention to the 
+application of millions, isnot likely to givemuch to that of £13,000 
+a-year; and the cursitor baron of exchequer, from his profession 
+and education, isnot likely to be profoundly skilled in the proper 
+expense of forts and garrisons. The captains of his majesty's navy, 
+indeed, or any other commissioned officers, appointed bytheboard 
+of admiralty, may inquire into thecondition of thefortsand gar- 
+risons, and report their observations to that board. But that board 
+seems to haveno direct jurisdiction over the committee, nor any 
+authority to correct those whose conduct it may thusinquireinto; 
+and thecaptainsof his majesty'snavy, besides, arenot supposed to 
+be always deeply learned in the science of fortification. Removal 
+from an office, which can be enjoyed only for the term of three 
+years, and of which thelawful emoluments, even during that term, 
+are so very small, seems to be the utmost punishment to which 
+any committee-man isliable, for any fault, except direct malversa- 
+tion, or embezzlement, either of the public money, or of that of 
+the company; and thefear of the punishment can never be a mo- 
+tive of sufficient weight to force a continual and careful attention 
+to a business to which he has no other interest to attend. The 
+committee are accused of having sent out bricks and stones from 
+England for the reparation of Cape Coast Castle, on the coast of 
+Guinea; a business for which parliament had several times granted 
+
+
+
+an extraordinary sum of money.These bricks and stones, too, which 
+had thus been sent upon so long a voyage, were said to have been 
+of so bad a quality, that it was necessary to rebuild, from thefoun- 
+dation, the walls which had been repaired with them. The forts 
+and garrisons which lie north of C ape Rouge, are not only main- 
+tained at the expense of the state, but are under the immediate 
+government of the executive power; and why those which liesouth 
+of that cape, and which, too, are, in part at least, maintained at 
+the expense of the state, should be under a different government, 
+it seems not very easy even to imagine a good reason. T he protec- 
+tion of the M editerranean trade was the original purpose or pre- 
+tence of the garrisons of Gibraltar and M inorca; and the mainte- 
+nance and government of those garrisons have always been, very 
+properly, committed, not to the Turkey company, but to the ex- 
+ecutive power. In the extent of its dominion consists, in a great 
+measure, the pride and dignity of that power; and it is not very 
+likely to fail in attention to what is necessary for the defence of 
+that dominion. The garrisons at Gibraltar and M inorca, accord- 
+ingly, have never been neglected. Though M inorca has been twice 
+taken, and is now probably lost for ever, that disaster has never 
+been imputed to any neglect in the executive power. I would not, 
+however, be understood to insinuate, that either of those expen- 
+sive garrisons was ever, even in the smallest degree, necessary for 
+
+
+
+605 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+thepurposefor which they were originally dismembered from the 
+Spanish monarchy. That dismemberment, perhaps, never served 
+any other real purpose than to alienate from England her natural 
+ally the king of Spain, and to unite thetwo principal branches of 
+the house of Bourbon in a much stricter and more permanent 
+alliance than the ties of blood could ever have united them. 
+
+J oint-stock companies, established either by royal charter, or by 
+act of parliament, are different in several respects, not only from 
+regulated companies, but from private copartneries. 
+
+First, in a private copartnery, no partner without the consent of 
+the company, can transfer his share to another person, or intro- 
+duce a new member into the company. Each member, however, 
+may, upon proper warning, withdraw from the copartnery, and 
+demand payment from them of hisshareof thecommon stock. In 
+a joint-stock company, on the contrary, no member can demand 
+payment of his share from the company; but each member can, 
+without their consent, transfer his share to another person, and 
+thereby introduce a new member. The value of a share in a joint 
+stock isalwaysthepricewhich it will bring in themarket; and this 
+may be either greater or less in any proportion, than thesum which 
+its owner stands credited for in the stock of the company. 
+
+Secondly, in a private copartnery, each partner is bound for the 
+debts contracted by the company, to the whole extent of his for- 
+
+
+
+tune. In a joint-stock company, on the contrary, each partner is 
+bound only to the extent of his share. 
+
+T hetradeof ajoint-stock company is always man aged by a court 
+of directors. This court, indeed, is frequently subject, in many 
+respects, to the control of a general court of proprietors. But the 
+greater part of these proprietors seldom pretend to understand 
+any thing of the business of the company; and when the spirit of 
+faction happens not to prevail among them, give themselves no 
+trouble about it, but receive contentedly such halfyearly or yearly 
+dividend as the directors think proper to maketo them. Thistotal 
+exemption front trouble and front risk, beyond a limited sum, 
+encourages many people to become adventurers in joint-stock 
+companies, who would, upon no account, hazard their fortunes 
+in any private copartnery. Such companies, therefore, commonly 
+draw to themselves much greater stocks, than any private 
+copartnery can boast of. The trading stock of the South Sea com- 
+pany at one time amounted to upwards of thirty-three millions 
+eight hundred thousand pounds. T he divided capital of the Bank 
+of England amounts, at present, to ten millions seven hundred 
+and eighty thousand pounds The directors of such companies, 
+however, being the managers rather of other people's money than 
+of their own, it cannot well be expected that they should watch 
+over it with thesameanxiousvigilancewith which thepartnersin 
+
+
+
+606 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+a private copartnery frequently watch over their own. Like the stew- 
+ards of a rich man, they are apt to consider attention to small mat- 
+ters as not for their master's honour, and very easily give themselves 
+adispensation from having it. N egligenceand profusion, therefore, 
+must always prevail, more or less, in the management of the affairs 
+of such a company. It is upon this account, that joint-stock compa- 
+nies for foreign tradehavesddom been ableto maintain thecompe- 
+tition against private adventurers. T hey have, accordingly, very sel- 
+dom succeeded without an exclusive privilege; and frequently have 
+not succeeded with one. W ithout an exclusive privilege, they have 
+commonly mismanaged thetrade. W ith an exclusive privilege, they 
+have both mismanaged and confined it. 
+
+T he Royal African company, the predecessors of the present Af- 
+rican company, had an exclusive privilege by charter; but as that 
+charter had not been confirmed by act of parliament, thetrade, in 
+consequenceof thedeclaration of rights, was, soon after the Revo- 
+lution, laid open to all his majesty's subjects. The H udson's Bay 
+company are, as to their legal rights, in the same situation as the 
+Royal African company. T heir exclusive charter has not been con- 
+firmed by act of parliament. The South Sea company, as long as 
+they continued to be a trading company, had an exclusive privi- 
+lege confirmed by act of parliament; as have likewise the present 
+united company of merchants trading to the East I ndies. 
+
+
+
+The Royal African company soon found that they could not 
+maintain thecompetition against private adventurers, whom, not- 
+withstanding the declaration of rights, they continued for some 
+time to call interlopers, and to persecute as such. In 1698, how- 
+ever, the private adventurers were subjected to a duty of ten per 
+cent, upon almost all the different branches of their trade, to be 
+employed by the company in the maintenance of their forts and 
+garrisons. But, notwithstanding thisheavy tax, thecompany were 
+still unable to maintain the competition. Their stock and credit 
+gradually declined. In 1712, their debts had becomeso great, that 
+a particular act of parliament was thought necessary, both for their 
+security and for that of their creditors. It was enacted, that the 
+resolution of two-thirds of these creditors in number and value 
+should bind the rust, both with regard to the time which should 
+be allowed to the company for the payment of their debts, and 
+with regard to any other agreement which it might bethought 
+proper to make with them concerning those debts. In 1730, their 
+affairs were in so great disorder, that they were altogether inca- 
+pable of maintaining their forts and garrisons, the sole purpose 
+and pretext of their institution. From that year till their final dis- 
+solution, the parliament judged it necessary to allow the annual 
+sum of £10,000 for that purpose. In 1732, after having been for 
+many years losers by the trade of carrying negroes to the West 
+
+
+
+607 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+I ndies, they at last resolved to give it up altogether; to sell to the 
+private traders to America thenegroes which they purchased upon 
+the coast; awl to employ their servants in a trade to the inland 
+parts of Africa for gold dust, elephants teeth, dyeing drugs, etc. 
+But their success in this more confined trade was not greater than 
+in their former extensive one. Their affairs continued to go gradu- 
+ally to decline, till at last, being in every respect a bankrupt com- 
+pany, they were dissolved by act of parliament, and their forts and 
+garrisons vested in the present regulated company of merchants 
+trading to Africa. Before the erection of the Royal African com- 
+pany, there had been three other joint-stock companies succes- 
+sively established, one after another, for the African trade. They 
+were all equally unsuccessful. They all, however, had exclusive 
+charters, which, though not confirmed by act of parliament, were 
+in those days supposed to convey a real exclusive privilege. 
+
+TheH udson'sBay company, before their misfortunesin thelate 
+war, had been much more fortunate than the Royal African com- 
+pany. Their necessary expense is much smaller. The whole num- 
+ber of people whom they maintain in their different settlements 
+and habitations, which they havehonoured with thenameof forts, 
+is said not to exceed a hundred and twenty persons. This number, 
+however, is sufficient to prepare beforehand the cargo of furs and 
+other goods necessary for loading their ships, which, on account 
+
+
+
+of the ice, can seldom remain above six or eight weeks in those 
+seas. This advantage of having a cargo ready prepared, could not, 
+for several years, be acquired by private adventurers; and without 
+it there seemsto beno possibility of trading to H udson's Bay. T he 
+moderate capital of the company, which, it is said, does not ex- 
+ceed one hundred and ten thousand pounds, may, besides, be suf- 
+ficient to enable them to engross the whole, or almost the whole 
+tradeand surplus produce, of themiserablethough extensive coun- 
+try comprehended within their charter. No private adventurers, 
+accordingly, have ever attempted to tradeto that country in com- 
+petition with them.Thiscompany, therefore, have always enjoyed 
+an exclusive trade, in fact, though they may have no right to it in 
+law. Over and above all this, the moderate capital of thiscompany 
+is said to be divided among a very small number of proprietors. 
+But a joint-stock company, consisting of a small number of pro- 
+prietors, with a moderate capital, approaches very nearly to the 
+nature of a private copartnery, and may be capable of nearly the 
+same degree of vigilance and attention. It is not to be wondered 
+at, therefore, if, in consequence of these different advantages, the 
+H udson's Bay company had, before the I ate war, been ableto carry 
+on their trade with a considerable degree of success. It does not 
+seem probable, however, that their profits ever approached to what 
+thelateM rDobbs imagined them. A much more sober and judi- 
+
+
+
+608 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+cious writer, M r Anderson, author of the H istorical and Chrono- 
+logical Deduction of Commerce, very justly observes, that upon 
+examining the accounts which Mr Dobbs himself has given for 
+several years together, of their exports and imports, and upon 
+maki n g proper al I owan ces for th ei r extraord i n ary ri sk and expen se, 
+it does not appear that their profits deserve to be envied, or that 
+they can much, if at all, exceed the ordinary profits of trade. 
+
+The South Sea company never had any forts or garrisons to 
+maintain, and therefore were entirely exempted from one great 
+expense, to which other joint-stock companies for foreign trade 
+are subject; but they had an immense capital divided among an 
+immense number of proprietors. It was naturally to be expected, 
+therefore, that folly, negligence, and profusion, should prevail in 
+the whole management of their affairs. The knavery and extrava- 
+gance of their stock-jobbing projects are sufficiently known, and 
+the explication of them would be foreign to the present subject. 
+Their mercantile projects were not much better conducted. The 
+first trade which they engaged in, was that of supplying theSpan- 
+ish West Indies with negroes, of which (in consequence of what 
+was called the Assiento Contract granted them by the treaty of 
+Utrecht) they had the exclusive privilege. But as it was not ex- 
+pected that much profit could be made by this trade, both the 
+Portuguese and French companies, who had enjoyed it upon the 
+
+
+
+same terms before them, having been ruined by it, they were al- 
+lowed, as compensation, to send annually a ship of a certain bur- 
+den, to trade directly to the Spanish West Indies. Of the ten voy- 
+ages which this annual ship was allowed to make, they are said to 
+have gained considerably by one, that of the Royal Caroline, in 
+1731; and to have been losers, more or less, by almost all the rest. 
+Their ill success was imputed, by their factors and agents, to the 
+extortion and oppression of the Spanish government; but was, 
+perhaps, principally owing to the profusion and depredations of 
+those very factors and agents; some of whom are said to have ac- 
+quired great fortunes, even in one year. In 1734, the company 
+petitioned the king, that they might be allowed to dispose of the 
+trade and tonnage of their annual ship, on account of the little 
+profit which they made by it, and to accept of such equivalent as 
+they could obtain from the king of Spain. 
+
+In 1724, this company had undertaken the whale fishery. Of 
+this, indeed, they had no monopoly; but as long as they carried it 
+on, no other British subjects appear to have engaged in it. Of the 
+eight voyages which their ships made to Greenland, they were 
+gainers by one, and losers by all the rest. After their eighth and last 
+voyage, when they had sold their ships, stores, and utensils, they 
+found that their whole loss upon this branch, capital and interest 
+included, amounted to upwards of £237,000. 
+
+
+
+609 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+In 1722, this company petitioned the parliament to be allowed 
+to dividetheir immense capital of more than thirty-three millions 
+eight hundred thousand pounds, the whole of which had been 
+lent to government, into two equal parts; theonehalf, or upwards 
+of £16,900,000, to be put upon the same footing with other gov- 
+ernment annuities, and not to be subject to the debts contracted, 
+or losses incurred, by the directors of the company, in the pros- 
+ecution of their mercantile projects; the other half to remain as 
+before, a trading stock, and to be subject to thosedebtsand losses. 
+T he petition was too reasonable not to be granted. I n 1733, they 
+again petitioned the parliament, that three- fourths of their trad- 
+ing stock might be turned into annuity stock, and only one-fourth 
+remain as trading stock, or exposed to the hazards arising from 
+the bad management of their directors. Both their annuity and 
+trading stocks had, by this time, been reduced more than two 
+millionseach, by several different payments from government; so 
+that this fourth amounted only to £3,662,784:8:6. In 1748, all 
+the demands of the company upon the king of Spain, in conse- 
+quence of the assiento contract, were, by the treaty of Aix-la- 
+Chapelle, given up for what was supposed an equivalent. An end 
+wasputtotheirtradewiththeSpanish West Indies; theremainder 
+of their trading stock was turned into an annuity stock; and the 
+company ceased, in every respect, to be a trading company. 
+
+
+
+It ought to be observed, that in the trade which the South Sea 
+company carried on by means of their annual ship, the only trade 
+by which it ever was expected that they could make any consider- 
+able profit, they were not without competitors, either in the for- 
+eign or in the home market. At Carthagena, Porto Bel lo, and La 
+Vera Cruz, they had to encounter the competition of the Spanish 
+merchants, who brought from Cadiz to those markets European 
+goods, of the same kind with the outward cargo of their ship; and 
+in England they had to encounter that of the English merchants, 
+who imported from Cadiz goods of the Spanish West Indies, of 
+thesamekind with theinward cargo. Thegoods, both of theSpan- 
+ish and English merchants, indeed, were, perhaps, subject to higher 
+duties. But the loss occasioned by the negligence, profusion, and 
+malversation of the servants of the company, had probably been a 
+tax much heavier than all those duties. That a joint-stock com- 
+panyshould beableto carry on successfully any branch of foreign 
+trade, when private adventurers can come into any sort of open 
+and fair competition with them, seems contrary to all experience. 
+
+The old English East India company was established in 1600, 
+by a charter from Queen Elizabeth. In the first twelve voyages 
+which they fitted out for India, they appear to have traded as a 
+regulated company, with separate stocks, though only in the gen- 
+eral ships of the company. In 1612, they united into a joint stock. 
+
+
+
+610 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+Their charter was exclusive, and, though not confirmed by act of 
+parliament, was in those days supposed to convey a real exclusive 
+privilege. For many years, therefore, they were not much disturbed 
+by interlopers. T heir capital, which never exceeded £744,000, and 
+ofwhich £50 wasa share, wasnot so exorbitant, nor their dealings 
+so extensive, as to afford either a pretext for gross negligence and 
+profusion, or a cover to gross malversation. Notwithstanding some 
+extraordinary losses, occassioned partly by themaliceof the Dutch 
+East India company, and partly by other accidents, they carried 
+on for many years a successful trade. But in process of time, when 
+the principles of liberty were better understood, it became every 
+day more and more doubtful, how far a royal charter, not con- 
+firmed by act of parliament, could convey an exclusive privilege. 
+Upon this question the decisions of the courts of justice were not 
+uniform, but varied with the authority of government, and the 
+humours of thetimes. Interlopers multiplied upon them; and to- 
+wards the end of the reign of C harles 1 1 ., through the whole of 
+that of James II., and during a part of that of William III., re- 
+duced them to great distress. In 1698, a proposal was made to 
+parliament, of advancing two millionsto government, at eight per 
+cent, provided the subscribers were erected into a new East India 
+company, with exclusive privileges. The old East India company 
+offered seven hundred thousand pounds, nearly the amount of 
+
+
+
+their capital, at four per cent, upon thesameconditions. But such 
+was at that time the state of public credit, that it wasmore conve- 
+nient for government to borrow two millions at eight per cent, 
+than seven hundred thousand poundsatfour.Theproposal of the 
+new subscribers was accepted, and a new East India company es- 
+tablished in consequence. The old East India company, however, 
+had arightto continuetheir tradetill 1701. They had, at thesame 
+time, in the name of their treasurer, subscribed very artfully three 
+hundred and fifteen thousand pounds into the stock of the new. 
+By a negligence in the expression of the act of parliament, which 
+vested the East India trade in the subscribers to this loan of two 
+millions, it did not appear evident that they were all obliged to 
+uniteinto ajoint stock. A few private traders, whose subscriptions 
+amounted only to seven thousand two hundred pounds, insisted 
+upon the privilege of trading separately upon their own stocks, 
+and at their own risks. T heold East I ndia company had a right to 
+a separate trade upon their own stock till 1701; and they had 
+likewise, both before and after that period, a right, like that or 
+other private traders, to aseparatetradeupon thef 315,000, which 
+they had subscribed into thestock of thenew company. T hecom- 
+petition of the two companies with the private traders, and with 
+one another, is said to have well nigh ruined both. Upon a subse- 
+quent occasion, in 1750, when a proposal was made to parlia- 
+
+
+
+611 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+merit for putting the trade under the management of a regulated 
+company, and thereby laying it in some measure open, the East 
+Indiacompany, in opposition to thisproposal, represented, in very 
+strongterms, what had been, atthistime, the miserable effects, as 
+they thought them, of this competition. In India, they said, it 
+raised the price of goods so high, that they were not worth the 
+buying; and in England, by overstocking the market, it sunk their 
+price so low, that no profit could be made by them. That by a 
+more plentiful supply, to the great advantage and conveniencyof 
+the public, it must have reduced very much the price of India 
+goods in the English market, cannot well be doubted; but that it 
+should have raised very much their price in the Indian market, 
+seems not very probable, as all the extraordinary demand which 
+that competition could occasion must have been but as a drop of 
+water in the immense ocean of Indian commerce. The increase of 
+demand, besides, though in thebeginning it may sometimes raise 
+the price of goods, never fails to lower it in the long-run. It en- 
+courages production, and thereby increases thecompetition of the 
+producers, who, in order to undersell one another, have recourse 
+to new divisions or labour and new improvements of art, which 
+might never otherwise have been thought of. The miserable ef- 
+fects of which the company complained, were the cheapness of 
+consumption, and the encouragement given to production; pre- 
+
+
+
+cisely the two effects which it is the great business of political 
+economy to promote. The competition, however, of which they 
+gave this doleful account, had not been allowed to beof long con- 
+tinuance. In 1702, the two companies were, in some measure, 
+united by an in denture tripartite, to which thequeen wasthethird 
+party; and in 1708, they were by act of parliament, perfectly con- 
+solidated into one company, by their present name of the United 
+C ompany of M erchants trading to the East I ndies. I nto this act it 
+was thought worth whileto insert a clause, allowing the separate 
+traders to continue their trade till M ichaelmas 1711; but at the 
+same time empowering the directors, upon three years notice, to 
+redeem their littlecapital of seven thousand two hundred pounds, 
+and thereby to convert the whole stock of the company into a 
+joint stock. By the same act, the capital ofthecompany, in conse- 
+quence of a new loan to government, was augmented from two 
+millionsto threemillionstwo hundred thousand pounds. In 1743, 
+the company advanced another million to government. But this 
+million being raised, not by a call upon the proprietors, but by 
+selling annuities and contracting bond-debts, it did not augment 
+the stock upon which the proprietors could claim a dividend. It 
+augmented, however, their trading stock, it being equally liable 
+with the other threemillionstwo hundred thousand pounds, to 
+thelosses sustained, and debts contracted by the company in pros- 
+
+
+
+612 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+ecution of their mercantile projects. From 1708, or at least from 
+1711, this company, being delivered from all competitors, and 
+fully established in the monopoly of theEnglishcommerceto the 
+East Indies, carried on a successful trade, and from their profits, 
+made annually a moderate dividend to their proprietors. D uring 
+the French war, which began in 1741, theambition of M r. D upleix, 
+the French governor of Pondicherry, involved them in thewarsof 
+theCarnatic, and in thepoliticsof thelndian princes. After many 
+signal successes, and equally signal losses, they at last lost M adras, 
+at that time their principal settlement in India. It was restored to 
+them by the treaty of Aix-la-C hapelle; and, about this time the 
+spirit of war and conquest seems to have taken possession of their 
+servants in India, and never since to have left them. During the 
+French war, which began in 1755, their arms partook of the gen- 
+eral good fortune of those of G reat Britain. T hey defended M a- 
+dras, took Pondicherry, recovered Calcutta, and acquired the rev- 
+enues of a rich and extensive territory, amounting, it was then 
+said, to upwards of three millions a-year. They remained for sev- 
+eral yearsin quiet possession of this revenue; but in 1767, admin- 
+istration laid claim to their territorial acquisitions, and the rev- 
+enue arising from them, as of right belonging to the crown; and 
+the company, in compensation for this claim, agreed to pay to 
+government £400,000 a-year. T hey had, before this, gradually aug- 
+
+
+
+mented their dividend from about six to ten per cent.; that is, 
+upon theircapital of threemillionstwo hundred thousand pounds, 
+they had increased it by £128,000, or had raised it from one hun- 
+dred and ninety-two thousand to threehundred and twen ty thou- 
+sand poundsa-year. They were attempting about thistimeto raise 
+it still further, to twelve and a-half per cent., which would have 
+made their annual payments to their proprietors equal to what 
+they had agreed to pay annually to government, or to £400,000 a- 
+year. But during thetwo yearsin which their agreement with gov- 
+ernment was to take pi ace, they were restrained from any further 
+increaseof dividend bytwo successive acts of parliament, of which 
+the object was to enable them to make a speedier progress in the 
+payment of their debts, which were at this time estimated atup- 
+wardsof six or seven millionssterling. In 1769, they renewed their 
+agreement with government for five years more, and stipulated, 
+that during thecourseof that period, they should be allowed gradu- 
+ally to increase their dividend to twelve and a-half percent; never 
+increasing it, however, more than one per cent, in one year. This 
+increase of dividend, therefore, when it had risen to its utmost 
+height, could augment their annual payments, to their propri- 
+etors and government together, but by £680,000, beyond what 
+they had been before their late territorial acquisitions What the 
+gross revenue of those territorial acquisitions was supposed to 
+
+
+
+613 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+amount to, has already been mentioned; and by an account brought 
+bytheCruttenden Eastlndiaman in 1769, the neat revenue, clear 
+of all deductions and military charges, was stated at two millions 
+forty-eight thousand seven hundred and forty-seven pounds. They 
+were said, at the same time, to possess another revenue, arising 
+partlyfrom lands, but chieflyfrom thecustomsestablished at their 
+different settlements, amounting to £439,000. The profits of their 
+trade, too, accordingtotheevidenceoftheirchairman before the 
+house of commons, amounted, atthistime, to at least £400,000 
+a-year; according to that of their accountant, to at least £500,000; 
+according to the lowest account, at least equal to the highest divi- 
+dend that was to be paid to their proprietors So great a revenue 
+might certainly have afforded an augmentation of £680,000 in 
+their annual payments; and, at the same time, have left a large 
+sinking fund, sufficient for the speedy reduction of their debt. In 
+1773, however, their debts, instead of being reduced, were aug- 
+mented by an arrear to the treasury in the payment of the four 
+hundred thousand pounds; by another to the custom-house for 
+duties unpaid; by a large debt to the bank, for money borrowed; 
+and by a fourth, for bills drawn upon them from India, and wan- 
+tonly accepted, to theamount of upwardsoftwelvehundred thou- 
+sand pounds. Thedistress which these accumulated daimsbrought 
+upon them, obliged them not only to reduce all at oncetheir divi- 
+
+
+
+dend to six per cent, but to throw themselves upon the mercy of 
+government, and to supplicate, first, a release from the further 
+payment of the stipulated £400,000 a-year; and, secondly, a loan 
+of fourteen hundred thousand, to save them from i m mediate ban k- 
+ruptcy.Thegreatincreaseoftheirfortunehad, it seems, only served 
+to furnish their servants with a pretext for greater profusion, and a 
+cover for greater malversation, than in proportion even to that 
+increase of fortune. The conduct of their servants in India, and 
+the general state of their affairs both in India and in Europe, be- 
+came the subject of a parliamentary inquiry: in consequence of 
+which, several very important alterations were made in theconsti- 
+tution of their government, both at home and abroad. In India, 
+their principal settlementsor M adras, Bombay, and C alcutta, which 
+had before been altogether independent of one another, were sub- 
+jected to a governor-general, assisted by a council of four asses- 
+sors, parliament assuming to itself the first nomination of this 
+governor and council, who were to reside at Calcutta; that city 
+having now become, what M adras was before, the most impor- 
+tant of the English settlements in India. The court of the M ayor 
+of C alcutta, originally instituted for thetrial of mercantile causes, 
+which arosein thecityand neighbourhood, had gradually extended 
+its jurisdiction with the extension of the empire. It was now re- 
+duced and confined to the original purpose of its institution. In- 
+
+
+
+614 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+stead of it, a new supreme court of judicature was established, 
+consisting of a chief justice and three judges, to be appointed by 
+thecrown. In Europe, the qualification necessary to entitle a pro- 
+prietor to vote at their general courts was raised, from five hun- 
+dred pounds, theoriginal priceof a share in the stock of the com- 
+pany, to a thousand pounds. In order to vote upon this qualifica- 
+tion, too, it was declared necessary, that he should have possessed 
+it, if acquired by his own purchase, and not by inheritance, for at 
+least one year, instead of six months, the term requisite before. 
+The court of twenty-four directors had before been chosen annu- 
+ally; but it was now enacted, that each director should, for the 
+future, be chosen for four years; six of them, however, to go out of 
+office by rotation every year, and not be capable of being re-cho- 
+sen at the election of the six new directors for the ensuing year. In 
+consequence of these alterations, the courts, both of the propri- 
+etors and directors, it was expected, would be likely to act with 
+more dignity and steadiness than they had usually done before. 
+But it seems impossible, by any alterations, to render those courts, 
+in any respect, fit to govern, or even to share in the government of 
+a great empire; because the greater part of their members must 
+always have too little interest in the prosperity of that empire, to 
+give any serious attention to what may promote it. Frequently a 
+man of great, sometimes even a man of small fortune, is willing to 
+
+
+
+purchase a thousand pounds share in I ndia stock, merely for the 
+influence which he expects to aquire by a vote in the court of 
+proprietors. It giveshim ashare, though not in theplunder, yet in 
+theappointment of the plunderers of I ndia; thecourt of directors, 
+though they make that appointment, being necessarily more or 
+less under the influence of the proprietors, who not only elect 
+those directors, but sometimes over-ruletheappointmentsofthar 
+servants in India. Provided he can enjoy this influence for a few 
+years, and thereby provide for a certain number of his friends, he 
+frequently cares little about the dividend, or even about the value 
+ofthestock upon which hisvoteisfounded. About theprosperity 
+of the great empire, in the government of which that vote gives 
+him a share, heseldom cares at all. No other sovereign sever were, 
+or, from the nature of things, ever could be, so perfectly indiffer- 
+ent about the happiness or misery of thar subjects, the improve- 
+ment or waste of their dominions, the glory or disgrace of their 
+administration, as, from irresistible moral causes, the greater part 
+of the proprietors of such a mercantile company are, and neces- 
+sarily must be. This indifference, too, was more likely to be in- 
+creased than diminished by some of the new regulations which 
+weremadein consequence of unparliamentary inquiry. By a reso- 
+lution of the house of commons, for example, it was declared, 
+that when the £1,400,000 lent to the company by government, 
+
+
+
+615 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+should be paid, and their bond-debts be reduced to £1,500,000, 
+they might then, and not till then, divide eight per cent, upon 
+their capital; and that whatever remained of their revenues and 
+neat profits at home should be divided into four parts; three of 
+them to be paid into the exchequer for the use of the public, and 
+thefourth to be reserved as a fund, either for thefurther reduction 
+of their bond-debts, or for the discharge of other contingent exi- 
+gencies which the company might labour under. But if the com- 
+pany were bad stewards and bad sovereigns, when the whole of 
+their neat revenueand profits belonged to themselves, and were at 
+their own disposal, they were surely not likely to be better when 
+three-fourths of them were to belong to other people, and the 
+other fourth, though to belaid out for the benefit of thecompany, 
+yet to be so under the inspection and with the approbation of 
+other people. 
+
+1 1 might be more agreeable to the company, that their own ser- 
+vants and dependants should have either the pleasure of wasting, 
+or the profit of embezzling, whatever surplus might remain, after 
+paying the proposed dividend of eight per cent, than that it should 
+come into the hands of a set of people with whom those resolu- 
+tions could scarce fail to set them in some measure at variance. 
+The interest of those servants and dependants might so far pre 
+dominatein thecourt of proprietors, as sometimes todisposeitto 
+
+
+
+support the authors of depredations which had been committed 
+in direct violation of itsown authority. With the majority of pro- 
+prietors, thesupport even of the authority of their own courtmight 
+sometimes be a matter of less consequence than the support of 
+those who had set that authority at defiance. 
+
+T he regulations of 1773, accordingly, did not put an end to the 
+disorder of thecompany's government in India. Notwithstanding 
+that, during a momentary fit of good conduct, they had at one 
+timecollected into thetreasury of Calcutta more than £3,000,000 
+sterling; notwithstanding that they had afterwards extended ei- 
+ther their dominion or their depredations over a vast accession of 
+some of the richest and most fertile countries in India, all was 
+wasted and destroyed. They found themselves altogether unpre- 
+pared to stop or resist the incursion of H yder AN; and in conse- 
+quence of those disorders, thecompany is now (1784) in greater 
+distress than ever; and, in order to prevent immediate bankruptcy, 
+is once more reduced to supplicate the assistance of government. 
+Different plans have been proposed by thedifferent parties in par- 
+liamentforthebetter management of its affairs; and all thoseplans 
+seem to agree in supposing, what was indeed always abundantly 
+evident, that it is altogether unfit to govern its territorial posses- 
+sions. Even the company itself seems to be convinced of its own 
+incapacity so far, and seems, upon that account willing to give 
+
+
+
+616 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+them up to government. 
+
+W ith the right of possessing forts and garrisons in distant and 
+barbarous countries is necessarily connected the right of making 
+peaceand war in thosecountries.T hejoint-stock companies, which 
+have had the one right, have constantly exercised the other, and 
+have frequently had it expressly conferred upon them. H ow un- 
+justly, how capriciously, how cruelly, they have commonly exer- 
+cised it, is too well known from recent experience. 
+
+When a company of merchants undertake, at their own risk 
+and expense, to establish a new trade with some remote and bar- 
+barous nation, it may not be unreasonable to incorporate them 
+into a joint-stock company, and to grant them, in case of their 
+success, a monopoly of the trade for a certain number of years. It 
+is the easiest and most natural way in which thestatecan recom- 
+pense them for hazarding a dangerous and expensive experiment, 
+of which the public is afterwards to reap the benefit. A temporary 
+monopoly of this kind may be vindicated, upon the same prin- 
+ciples upon which a like monopoly of anew machineisgranted to 
+its inventor, and that of a new book to its author. But upon the 
+expiration of the term, the monopoly ought certainly to deter- 
+mine; thefortsand garrisons, if it wasfound necessary to establish 
+any, to betaken into the hands of government, their value to be 
+paid to the company, and the trade to belaid open to all the sub- 
+
+
+
+jects of the state. By a perpetual monopoly, all the other subjects 
+of the state are taxed very absurdly in two different ways: first, by 
+the high price of goods, which, in the case of a free trade, they 
+could buy much cheaper; and, secondly, by their total exclusion 
+from a branch of business which it might be both convenient and 
+profitablefor many of them to carry on. It isfor the most worth- 
+less of all purposes, too, that they are taxed in this manner. It is 
+merely to enable the company to support the negligence, profu- 
+sion, and malversation of their own servants, whose disorderly 
+conduct seldom allows thedividend of thecompany to exceed the 
+ordinary rate of profit in trades which are altogether free, and very 
+frequently makes a fall even a good deal short of that rate. W ith- 
+out a monopoly, however, a joint-stock company, it would appear 
+from experience, cannot long carry on any branch of foreign trade. 
+To buy in one market, in order to sell with profit in another, when 
+there are many competitors in both; to watch over, not only the 
+occasional variations in the demand, but the much greater and 
+morefrequent variations in thecompetition, or in thesupply which 
+that demand is likely to get from other people; and to suit with 
+dexterity and judgment both the quantity and quality of each as- 
+sortment of goods to all these circumstances, is a species of war- 
+fare, of which theoperationsarecontinually changing, and which 
+can scarce ever be conducted successfully, without such an unre- 
+
+
+
+617 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+mitting exertion of vigilance and attention as cannot long be ex- 
+pected from the directors of a joint-stock company. The East In- 
+dia company, upon the redemption of their funds, andtheexpira- 
+tion of their exclusive privilege, havea right, by act of parliament, 
+to continue a corporation with ajoint stock, and totradein their 
+corporate capacity to the East Indies, in common with therestof 
+their fellow subjects. But in this situation, the superior vigilance 
+and attention of a private adventurer would, in all probability, 
+soon make them weary of the trade. 
+
+An eminent French author, of great knowledge in matters of 
+political economy, theAbbeM orellet, givesalist of fi fty-fivejoint- 
+stock companies for foreign trade, which have been established in 
+different parts of Europe si nee the year 1600, and which, accord- 
+ing to him, have all failed from mismanagement, notwithstand- 
+ing they had exclusive privileges. H e has been misinformed with 
+regard to the history of two or three of them, which were not 
+joint-stock companies and have not failed. But, in compensation, 
+there have been several joint-stock companies which have failed, 
+and which he has omitted. 
+
+The only trades which it seems possible for a joint-stock com- 
+pany to carry on successfully, without an exclusive privilege, are 
+those, of which all the operations are capable of being reduced to 
+what is called a routine, or to such a uniformity of method as 
+
+
+
+admits of little or no variation. Of this kind is, first, the banking 
+trade; secondly, thetradeof in su ranee from fire and from sea risk, 
+and capturein timeof war; thirdly, thetradeof making and main- 
+taining a navigablecut or canal; and, fourthly, thesimilar tradeof 
+bringing water for the supply of a great city. 
+
+T hough the principles of the banking trade may appear some- 
+what abstruse, the practice is capable of being reduced to strict 
+rules. To depart upon any occasion from those rules, in conse- 
+quence of some flattering speculation of extraordinary gain, is al- 
+most always extremely dangerous and frequently fatal tothebank- 
+ing company which attempts it. But the constitution of joint- 
+stock companies renders them in general, more tenacious of es- 
+tablished rulesthan any privatecopartnery Such companies, there- 
+fore, seem extremely well fitted for this trade. The principal bank- 
+ing companies in Europe, accordingly, arejoint-stock companies, 
+many of which manage their trade very successfully without any 
+exclusive privilege. The bank of England has no other exclusive 
+privilege, except that no other banking company in England shall 
+consist of more than six persons. The two ban ksof Edinburgh are 
+joint-stock companies, without any exclusive privilege. 
+
+Thevalueoftherisk, either from fire, or from loss by sea, or by 
+capture, though it cannot, perhaps, be calculated very exactly, ad- 
+mits, however, of such a gross estimation, as renders it, in some 
+
+
+
+618 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+degree, reducible to strict rule and method. The trade of insur- 
+ance, therefore, may be carried on successfully by a joint-stock 
+company, without any exclusive privilege. Neither the London 
+Assurance, northeRoyal ExchangeAssurancecompanieshaveany 
+such privilege. 
+
+W hen a navigable cut or canal has been once made, the man- 
+agement of it becomesquitesimpleand easy, and it isreducibleto 
+strict rule and method. Even the making of it is so, as it may be 
+contracted for with undertakers, at so much a mile, and so much 
+a lock. The same thing may be said of a canal, an aqueduct, or a 
+great pipe for bringing water to supply a great city. Such under- 
+takings, therefore, may be, and accordingly frequently are, very 
+successfully managed by joint-stock companies, without any ex- 
+clusive privilege. 
+
+To establish ajoint-stock company, however, for any undertak- 
+ing, merely because such a company might be capable of manag- 
+ing it successfully; or, to exempt a particular set of dealers from 
+some of the general laws which take place with regard to all their 
+neighbours, merely because they might be capable of thriving, if 
+they had such an exemption, would certainly not be reasonable. 
+To render such an establishment perfectly reasonable, with the 
+circumstance of being reducible to strict rule and method, two 
+other circumstancesoughtto concur. First, it ought to appear with 
+
+
+
+the clearest evidence, that the undertaking is of greater and more 
+general utility than the greater part of common trades; and, sec- 
+ondly, that it requ ires a greater capital than can easily Decollated 
+into a private copartnery. If a moderate capital were sufficient, the 
+great utility of the undertaking would not be a sufficient reason 
+for establishing ajoint-stock company; because, in this case, the 
+demand for what it was to produce, would readily and easily be 
+supplied by private adventurers. In the four trades above men- 
+tioned, both those circumstances concur. 
+
+The great and general utility of the banking trade, when pru- 
+dently managed, has been fully explained in the second book of 
+this I nquiry. But a public bank, which isto support public credit, 
+and, upon particular emergencies, to advance to government the 
+whole produce of a tax, to the amount, perhaps, of several mil- 
+lions, a year or two before it comes in, requires a greater capital 
+than can easily be collected into any private copartnery. 
+
+The trade of insurance gives great security to the fortunes of 
+private people, and, by dividing among a great many that loss 
+which would ruin an individual, makes it fall light and easy upon 
+the whole society. In order to give this security, however, itisnec- 
+essary that theinsurers should have a very large capital. Before the 
+establishment of the two joint-stock companies for insurance in 
+London, a list, it is said, was laid before the attorney-general, of 
+
+
+
+619 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+onehundred and fifty private usurers, who had failed in thecourse 
+of a few years. 
+
+That navigable cuts and canals, and the works which are some- 
+times necessary for supplying a great city with water, are of great 
+and general utility, while, at the same time, they frequently re- 
+quireagreater expense than suits thefortunes of private people, is 
+sufficiently obvious. 
+
+Except thefourtradesabovementioned, I havenotbeen ableto 
+recollect any other, in which all the three circumstances requisite 
+for rendering reasonable the establishment of a joint-stock com- 
+pany concur. The English copper company of London, the lead- 
+smelting company, the glass-grinding company, have not even the 
+pretext of any great or singular utility in the object which they 
+pursue; nor does the pursuit of that object seem to require any 
+expense unsuitabletothefortunesof many private men. Whether 
+the trade which those companies carry on, is reducible to such 
+strict rule and method as to render it fit for the management of a 
+joint-stock company, or whether they have any reason to boast of 
+their extraordinary profits, I do not pretend to know. The mine- 
+adventurers company has been long ago bankrupt. A share in the 
+stock of the British Linen company of Edinburgh sells, at present, 
+very much below par, though less so than it did some years ago. 
+The joint-stock companies, which are established for the public- 
+
+
+
+spirited purpose of promoting some particular manufacture, over 
+and abovemanaging their own affairs ill, to thediminution of the 
+general stock of the society, can, in other respects, scarce ever fail 
+to do more harm than good. N otwithstanding the most upright 
+intentions, the unavoidable parti ality of their directors to particu- 
+lar branches of the manufacture, of which the undertakers mis- 
+lead and impose upon them, is a real discouragement to the rest, 
+and necessarily breaks, moreor less, that natural proportion which 
+would otherwise establish itself between judicious industry and 
+profit, and which, to the general industry of the country, is of all 
+encouragements the greatest and the most effectual . 
+
+ART. II. — Of the Expense of the Institution for the Educa- 
+tion of Youth. 
+
+Theinstitutionsfortheeducation of theyouth may, in thesame 
+manner, furnish a revenue sufficient for defraying their own ex- 
+pense. T he fee or honorary, which the scholar pays to the master, 
+naturally constitutes a revenue of this kind. 
+
+Even where the reward of the master does not arise altogether 
+from this natural revenue, it still is not necessary that it should be 
+derived from that general revenue of the society, of which the col- 
+lection and application are, in most countries, assigned to the ex- 
+ecutive power. Through the greater part of Europe, accordingly, 
+
+
+
+620 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+the endowment of schools and colleges makes either no charge 
+upon that general revenue, or but a very small one. It everywhere 
+arises chiefly from somelocal or provincial revenue, from therent 
+of some landed estate, or from the interest of some sum of money, 
+allotted and put under the management of trustees for this par- 
+ticular purpose, sometimes by the sovereign himself, and some- 
+times by some private donor. 
+
+H ave those public endowments contributed in general, to pro- 
+mote the end of their institution? Have they contributed to en- 
+courage the diligence, and to improve the abilities, of the teach- 
+ers? H ave they directed the course of education towards objects 
+more useful, both to the individual and to the public, than those 
+to which it would naturally have gone of its own accord? It should 
+not seem very difficult to give at least a probable answer to each of 
+those questions. 
+
+I n every profession, theexertion of thegreater part of those who 
+exercise it, is always in proportion to the necessity they are under 
+of making that exertion. This necessity is greatest with those to 
+whom theemolumentsof their profession are theonlysourcefrom 
+which they expect their fortune, or even their ordinary revenue 
+and subsistence. In order to acquire this fortune, or even to get 
+this subsistence, they must, in the course of a year, execute a cer- 
+tain quantity of work of aknown value; and, where the competi- 
+
+
+
+tion isfree, the rival ship of competitors, who are all endeavouring 
+to justle one another out of employment, obliges every man to 
+endeavour to execute his work with a certain degree of exactness. 
+Thegreatnessoftheobjectswhich are to be acquired bysuccessin 
+some particular professions may, no doubt, sometimes animate 
+the exertions of a few men of extraordinary spirit and ambition. 
+Great objects, however, are evidently not necessary, in order to 
+occasion the greatest exertions. Rivalship and emulation render 
+excellency, even in mean professions, an object of ambition, and 
+frequently occasion the very greatest exertions. Great objects, on 
+the contrary, alone and unsupported by the necessity of applica- 
+tion, have seldom been sufficient to occasion any considerable 
+exertion. In England, success in the profession of the law leadsto 
+some very great objects of ambition; and yet how few men, born 
+to easy fortunes, have ever in this country been eminent in that 
+profession? 
+
+The endowments of schools and colleges have necessarily di- 
+minished, more or less, the necessity of application in the teach- 
+ers. Their subsistence, so far as it arises from their salaries, is evi- 
+dently derived from a fund, altogether independent of their suc- 
+cess and reputation in their particular professions. 
+
+I n some universities, thesalary makesbut a part, and frequently 
+but a small part, of the emoluments of the teacher, of which the 
+
+
+
+621 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+greater part arises from thehonorariesor fees of his pupils. The 
+necessity of application, though always more or less diminished, 
+is not, in this case, entirely taken away. Reputation in his profes- 
+sion is still of some importance to him, and he still has some de- 
+pendency upon the affection, gratitude, and favourable report of 
+those who have attended upon his instructions; and these 
+favourable sentiments he is likely to gain in no way so well as by 
+deserving them, that is, by the abilities and diligence with which 
+he discharges every part of his duty. 
+
+In other universities, the teacher is prohibited from receiving 
+any honorary or fee from his pupils, and hissalary constitutes the 
+wholeof the revenue which he derives from hisoffice. H isinterest 
+is, in this case, set as directly in opposition to his duty as it is 
+possibleto set it. It is the interest of every man to live as much at 
+his ease as he can; and if his emoluments are to be precisely the 
+same, whether he does or does not perform some very laborious 
+duty, it is certainly his interest, at least as interest is vulgarly un- 
+derstood, either to neglect it altogether, or, if he is subject to some 
+authority which will not suffer him to do this, to perform it in as 
+careless and slovenly a manner as that authority will permit. If he 
+is naturally active and a lover of labour, it is his interest to employ 
+that activity in any way from which he can derive some advan- 
+tage, rather than in the performance of his duty, from which he 
+
+
+
+can derive none. 
+
+I f the authority to which he is subject resides in the body corpo- 
+rate, thecollege, or university, of which hehimself isa member, and 
+in which the greater part of the other members are, like himself, 
+persons who either are, or ought to be teachers, they are likely to 
+makea common cause, to be all very indulgent to oneanother, and 
+every man to consent that his neighbour may neglect his duty, pro- 
+vided hehimself is allowed to neglect his own. In the university of 
+Oxford, thegreaterpartof thepublicprofessorshave, forthesemany 
+years, given up altogether even the pretence of teaching. 
+
+If the authority to which he is subject resides, not so much in 
+the body corporate, of which he is a member, as in some other 
+extraneous persons, in the bishop of the diocese, for example, in 
+the governor of the province, or, perhaps, in some minister of 
+state, it is not, indeed, in this case, very likely that he will be suf- 
+fered to neglect his duty altogether. All that such superiors, how- 
+ever, can force him to do, is to attend upon his pupils a certain 
+number of hours, that is, to give a certain number of lectures in 
+the week, or in the year. W hat those lectures shall be, must still 
+depend upon the diligence of the teacher; and that diligence is 
+likely to beproportioned to the motives which he has for exerting 
+it. An extraneous jurisdiction of this kind, besides, is liable to be 
+exercised both ignorantlyand capriciously. In its nature, itisarbi- 
+
+
+
+622 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+trary and discretionary; and the persons who exercise it, neither 
+attending upon the lectures of the teacher themselves, nor per- 
+haps understanding the sciences which it is his business to teach, 
+are seldom capable of exercising it with judgment. From theinso- 
+lenceof office, too, they are frequently indifferent how they exer- 
+cise it, and are very apt to censure or deprive him of his office 
+wantonly and without any just cause. The person subject to such 
+jurisdiction is necessarily degraded by it, and, instead of being one 
+of the most respectable, is rendered one of the meanest and most 
+contemptible persons in the society. It is by powerful protection 
+only, thathecan effectually guard himself against thebad usage to 
+which he is at all times exposed; and this protection he is most 
+likely to gain, not by ability or diligence in his profession, but by 
+obsequiousness to the will of his superiors, and by being ready, at 
+all times, to sacrifice to that will the rights, the interest, and the 
+honour of the body corporate, of which he is a member. W hoever 
+has attended for any considerabletime to the administration of a 
+French university, must have had occasion to remark the effects 
+which naturally result from an arbitrary and extraneous jurisdic- 
+tion of this kind. 
+
+W hatever forces a certain number of students to any college or uni- 
+versity, independent of the merit or reputation of the teachers tends 
+more or less to diminish the necessity of that merit or reputation. 
+
+
+
+The privileges of graduates in arts, in law, physic, and divinity, 
+when they can be obtained only by residing a certain number of 
+years in certain universities, necessarily force a certain number of 
+students to such universities, independent of the merit or reputa- 
+tion of the teachers T he privileges of graduates are a sort of stat- 
+utes of apprenticeship, which have contributed to the improve- 
+ment of education just astheother statutes of apprenticeship have 
+to that of arts and manufactures. 
+
+The charitable foundations of scholarships, exhibitions, bursa- 
+ries, etc. necessarily attach a certain number of students to certain 
+colleges, independent altogether of the merit of those particular 
+colleges. Were the students upon such charitablefoundations left 
+free to choose what college they liked best, such liberty might 
+perhaps contribute to excitesomeemulation among different col- 
+leges. A regulation, on the contrary, which prohibited even the 
+independent members of every particular college from leaving it, 
+and going to any other, without leave first asked and obtained of 
+that which they meant to abandon, would tend very much to 
+extinguish that emulation. 
+
+If in each college, thetutor or teacher, who was to instruct each 
+student in all arts and sciences, should not be voluntarily chosen 
+by thestudent, but appointed bythehead of thecollege; and if, in 
+case of neglect, inability, or bad usage, thestudent should not be 
+
+
+
+623 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+allowed to change him for another, without leave first asked and 
+obtained; such a regulation would not only tend very much to 
+extinguish all emulation among the different tutors of the same 
+college, but to diminish very much, in all of them, the necessity of 
+diligence and of attention to their respective pupils. Such teach- 
+ers, though very well paid by their students, might be as much 
+disposed to neglect them, as those who arenot paid by them at all 
+or who have no other recompense but their salary. 
+
+I f the teacher happens to be a man of sense, it must be an un- 
+pleasant thing to him to be conscious, while he is lecturing to his 
+students, that heiseither speaking or reading nonsense, or what is 
+very little better than nonsense. ltmust,too, beunpleasanttohim 
+to observe, that the greater part of his students desert his lectures; 
+or perhaps, attend upon them with plain enough marks of ne- 
+glect, contempt, and derision. If heisobliged, therefore, togivea 
+certain number of lectures, thesemotives alone, without any other 
+interest, might dispose him to take some pains to give tolerably 
+good ones. Several different expedients, however, may befallen 
+upon, which will effectually blunt the edge of all those incite- 
+ments to diligence. Theteacher, instead of explaining to hispupils 
+himself the science in which he proposes to instruct them, may 
+read some book upon it; and if this book is written in a foreign 
+and dead language, by interpreting it to them into their own, or, 
+
+
+
+what would givehim still less trouble, by makingthem interpret it 
+to him, and by now and then making an occasional remark upon 
+it, he may flatter himself that he is giving a lecture. T he slightest 
+degree of knowledge and application will enable him to do this, 
+without exposing himself to contempt or derision, by saying any 
+thing that is really foolish, absurd, or ridiculous. Thedisciplineof 
+the college, at the same time, may enable him to force all his pu- 
+pils to the most regular attendance upon his sham lecture, and to 
+maintain the most decent and respectful behaviour during the 
+whole time of the performance. 
+
+Thedisciplineof colleges and universitiesisin general contrived, 
+not for the benefit of the students, but for the interest, or, more 
+properly speaking, for the ease of the masters. Its object is, in all 
+cases, to maintain the authority of the master, and, whether he 
+neglects or performs his duty, to oblige thestudentsin all cases to 
+behaveto him asif heperformed it with th e greatest diligenceand 
+ability. It seemsto presume perfect wisdom and virtuein theone 
+order, and the greatest weakness and folly in the other. W here the 
+masters, however, really perform their duty, there areno examples, 
+I believe, that the greater part of the students ever neglect theirs. 
+No discipline is ever requisite to force attendance upon lectures 
+which are really worth the attending, as is well known wherever 
+any such lectures are given. Force and restraint may, no doubt, be 
+
+
+
+624 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+in somedegree requisite, in order to obligechildren, or very young 
+boys, to attend to those parts of education, which it is thought 
+necessary for them to acquire during that early period of life; but 
+after twelve or thirteen years of age, provided the master does his 
+duty, forceor restraint can scarce ever be necessary to carry on any 
+part of education. Such is the generosity of the greater part of 
+young men, that so far from being disposed to neglect or despise 
+the instructions of their master, provided he shews some serious 
+intention of being of use to them, they are generally inclined to 
+pardon a great deal of incorrectness in theperformanceof hisduty, 
+and sometimes even to conceal from the public a good deal of 
+gross negligence. 
+
+Those parts of education, it is to be observed, for the teaching 
+of which there are no public institutions, are generally the best 
+taught. W hen a young man goes to a fencing or a dancing school, 
+he does not, indeed, always learn to fence or to dance very well; 
+but he seldom fails of learning to fence or to dance. The good 
+effects of the riding school are not commonly so evident. The 
+expense of a riding school is so great, that in most places it is a 
+public institution. Thethree most essential parts of literary educa- 
+tion, to read, write, and account, it still continues to be more 
+common to acquire in private than in public schools; and it very 
+seldom happens, that anybody fails of acquiring them to the de- 
+
+
+
+gree in which it is necessary to acquire them. 
+
+In England, thepublicschoolsaremuch less corrupted than the 
+universities. In the schools, the youth are taught, or at least may 
+be taught, Greek and Latin; that is, everything which the masters 
+pretend to teach, or which it isexpected they should teach. In the 
+universities, theyouth neither are taught, nor always can find any 
+proper meansofbeingtaughtthesciences, which itisthebusiness 
+of those incorporated bodies to teach. The reward of the school- 
+master, in most cases, depends principally, in some cases almost 
+entirely, upon thefeesor honoraries of his scholars. Schools have 
+no exclusive privileges. In order to obtain the honours of gradua- 
+tion, it is not necessary that a person should bring a certificate of 
+his having studied a certain number of years at a public school. If, 
+upon examination, he appears to understand what istaught there, 
+no questions are asked about the place where he learnt it. 
+
+Thepartsof education which arecommonly taught in universi- 
+ties, it may perhaps be said, are not very well taught. But had it 
+not been for those institutions, they would not have been com- 
+monly taught at all; and both theindividual and thepublic would 
+have suffered a good deal from the want of those important parts 
+of education. 
+
+The present universities of Europe were originally, the greater 
+part of them, ecclesiastical corporations, instituted fortheeduca- 
+
+
+
+625 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+tion of churchmen. They were founded by the authority of the 
+pope; and were so entirely under his immediate protection, that 
+their members, whether masters or students, had all of them what 
+was then called the benefit of clergy, that is, were exempted from 
+thecivil jurisdiction of the countries in which their respecti veuni- 
+versities were situated, and were amenable only to the ecclesiasti- 
+cal tribunals. W hat was taught in the greater part of those univer- 
+sities was suitable to the end of their institution, either theology, 
+or something that was merely preparatory to theology. 
+
+When Christianity was first established bylaw, a corrupted Latin 
+had become the common language of all the western parts of Eu- 
+rope. The service of the church, accordingly, and the translation of 
+theBiblewhich were read in churches, were both in that corrupted 
+Latin; that is, in the common language of the country, After the 
+irruption of the barbarous nations who overturned the Roman 
+empire, Latin gradually ceased to be the language of any part of 
+Europe. But the reverence of the people naturally preserves the es- 
+tablished forms and ceremonies of religion long after the circum- 
+stances which first introduced and rendered them reasonable, are 
+no more. Though Latin, therefore, was no longer understood any- 
+where by the great body of the people, the whole service of the 
+church still continued to be performed in that language. Two differ- 
+ent languages were thus established in Europe, in thesamemanner 
+
+
+
+asin ancient Egypt: a language of the priests, and a language of the 
+people; a sacred and a profane, a learned and an unlearned lan- 
+guage. But it wasnecessary that thepriests should understand some- 
+thing of that sacred and learned language in which they were to 
+officiate; and the study of the Latin language therefore made, from 
+the beginning, an essential part of university education. 
+
+It was not so with that either of the Greek or of the H ebrew 
+language. The infallible decrees of the church had pronounced 
+the Latin translation of the Bible, commonly called the Latin 
+Vulgate, to have been equally dictated by divine inspiration, and 
+therefore of equal authoritywith theGreekand H ebrew originals. 
+The knowledge of those two languages, therefore, not being in- 
+dispensably requisite to a churchman, the study of them did not 
+for along time make a necessary part of the common course of 
+university education. There are some Spanish universities, I am 
+assured, in which the study of the Greek language has never yet 
+madeany part of that course. T hefirst reformers found theG reek 
+text of the New Testament, and even the Hebrew text of the Old, 
+more favourable to their opinions than the vulgate translation, 
+which, as might naturally be supposed, had been gradually ac- 
+commodated to support the doctrines of the Catholic Church. 
+T hey set themselves, therefore, to expose the many errors of that 
+translation, which the Roman catholic clergy were thus put under 
+
+
+
+626 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+the necessity of defending or explaining. But this could not well 
+be done without some knowledge of the original languages, of 
+which thestudy was thereforegradually introduced into the greater 
+part of universities; both of those which embraced, and of those 
+which rejected, the doctrines of the reformation. T he G reek lan- 
+guage was connected with every part of that classical learning, 
+which, though at first principally cultivated by catholics and Ital- 
+ians, happened to come into fashion much about the same time 
+that the doctrines of thereformation wereseton foot. In thegreater 
+part of universities, therefore, that language was taught previous 
+to the study of philosophy, and as soon as the student had made 
+some progress in the Latin. T he H ebrew language having no con- 
+nection with classical learning, and, except the H oly Scriptures, 
+being the language of not a single book in any esteem thestudy of 
+it did not commonly commence till after that of philosophy, and 
+when the student had entered upon thestudy of theology. 
+
+riginally, thefirst rudiments, both of theGreek and Latin lan- 
+guages, were taught in universities; and in some universities they 
+still continue to be so. In others, it is expected that the student 
+should have previously acquired, at least, the rudiments of oneor 
+both of those languages, of which the study continues to make 
+everywhere a very considerable part of university education. 
+
+The ancient Greek philosophy was divided into three great 
+
+
+
+branches; physics, or natural philosophy; ethics, or moral phi- 
+losophy; and logic. This general division seems perfectly agreeable 
+to the nature of things. 
+
+T hegreat phenomena of nature, therevolutionsof the heavenly 
+bodies, eclipses, comets; thunder and lightning, and other extraor- 
+dinary meteors; the generation, the life, growth, and dissolution 
+of plants and animals; are objects which, as they necessarily excite 
+the wonder, so they naturally call forth the curiosity of mankind 
+to inquire into their causes. Superstition first attempted to satisfy 
+this curiosity, by referring all those wonderful appearances to the 
+immediate agency of thegods. Philosophy afterwardsendeavoured 
+to account for them from more familiar causes, or from such as 
+mankind were better acquainted with, than theagency of thegods. 
+Asthose great phenomena are the first objects of human curiosity, 
+so thescience which pretendsto explain them must naturally have 
+been thefirst branch of philosophy that was cultivated. The first 
+philosophers, accordingly, of whom history has preserved any ac- 
+count, appear to have been natural philosophers. 
+
+In every age and country of the world, men must have attended 
+to the characters, designs, and actions of one another; and many 
+reputable rules and maxims for the conduct of human life must 
+have been laid down and approved of by common consent. As 
+soon as writing came into fashion, wise men, or those whofancied 
+
+
+
+627 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+themselves such, would naturally endeavour to increase the num- 
+ber of those established and respected maxims, and to express their 
+own sense of what was either proper or improper conduct, some- 
+timesinthemore artificial form of apologues, like what are called 
+the fables of Aesop; and sometimes in the more simple one of 
+apophthegms or wise sayings, like the proverbs of Solmnon, the 
+verses of Theogn is and Phocyllides, and some part of the worksof 
+H esiod. They might continue in this manner, for a long time, 
+merely to multiply the number of those maxims of prudence and 
+morality, without even attempting to arrange them in any very 
+distinct or methodical order, much less to connect them together 
+by one or more general principles, from which they were all de- 
+ducible, like effects from their natural causes The beauty of a 
+systematical arrangement of different observations, connected by 
+a few common principles, was first seen in the rude essays of those 
+ancient times to wards a system of natural philosophy. Something 
+of the same kind was afterwards attempted in morals. The max- 
+imsof common life were arranged in some methodical order, and 
+connected together by afew common principles, in thesameman- 
+ner as they had attempted to arrange and connect the phenomena 
+of nature. The science which pretends to investigate and explain 
+those connecting principles, is what is properly called Moral Phi- 
+losophy. 
+
+
+
+Different authors gave different systems, both of natural and 
+moral philosophy. But the arguments by which they supported 
+thosedifferent systems, far from being alwaysdemonstrations, were 
+frequently at best but very slender probabilities, and sometimes 
+mere sophisms, which had no other foundation but the inaccu- 
+racy and ambiguity of common language. Speculative systems, 
+have, in all ages of the world, been adopted for reasonstoo frivo- 
+lous to have determined the judgment of any man of common 
+sense, in a matter of the smallest pecuniary interest. Gross soph- 
+istry has scarce ever had any influenceupon theopinionsof man- 
+kind, except in mattersof philosophy and speculation; and in these 
+it has frequently had the greatest. The patrons of each system of 
+natural and moral philosophy, naturally endeavoured to expose 
+the weakness of the arguments adduced to support the systems 
+which were opposite to their own. In examining those arguments, 
+they were necessarily led to consider thedifference between a prob- 
+able and a demonstrative argument, between a fallacious and a 
+conclusive one; and logic, or the science of the general principles 
+of good and bad reasoning, necessarily arose out of the observa- 
+tionswhich ascrutiny of thiskind gave occasion to; though, in its 
+origin, posterior both to physics and to ethics, it was commonly 
+taught, not indeed in all, but in the greater part of the ancient 
+schools of philosophy, previously to either of those sciences. T he 
+
+
+
+628 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+student, it seems to have been thought, ought to understand well 
+the difference between good and bad reasoning, before he was led 
+to reason upon subjects of so great importance. 
+
+Thisancient division of philosophy into three parts was, in the 
+greater part of the universities of Europe, changed for another 
+into five. 
+
+In the ancient philosophy, whatever was taught concerning the 
+nature either of the human mind or of the D eity, made a part of 
+thesystem of physics.Those beings, in whatever their essence might 
+be supposed to consist, were parts of the great system of the uni- 
+verse, and parts, too, productive of the most important effects. 
+W hatever human reason could either condudeor conjecture con- 
+cerning them, made, as it were, two chapters, though no doubt 
+two very important ones, of the science which pretended to give 
+an account of the origin and revolutionsof the great system of the 
+universe. Butin theuniversitiesof Europe, where philosophy was 
+taught only as subservient to theology, itwasnatural to dwell longer 
+upon these two chaptersthan upon any other of thescience. T hey 
+were gradually more and more extended, and were divided into 
+many inferior chapters; till at last the doctrineof spirits, of which 
+so little can be known, came to take up as much room in the 
+system of philosophy as thedoctrineof bodies, of which so much 
+can be known. The doctrines concerning those two subjects were 
+
+
+
+considered as making two distinct sciences. W hat are called meta- 
+physics, or pneumatics, wereset in opposition to physics, and were 
+cultivated not only as themore sublime, but, for thepurposesof a 
+particular profession, as the more useful science of the two. T he 
+proper subject of experiment and observation, a subject in which 
+a careful attention is capable of making so many useful discover- 
+ies, was almost entirely neglected. The subject in which, after a 
+very few simpleand almost obvioustruths, themost careful atten- 
+tion can discover nothing but obscurity and uncertainty, and can 
+consequently produce nothing but subtleties and sophisms, was 
+greatly cultivated. 
+
+W hen those two scienceshad thusbeen set in opposition to one 
+another, the comparison between them naturally gave birth to a 
+third, to what was called ontology, or the science which treated of 
+thequalitiesand attributes which werecommon to both the sub- 
+jects of theother two sciences. But if subtleties and sophismscom- 
+posed the greater part of the metaphysics or pneumatics of the 
+schools, they composed the whole of this cobweb science of on- 
+tology, which was likewise sometimes called metaphysics. 
+
+Wherein consisted the happiness and perfection of a man, con- 
+sidered not only as an individual, but as the member of a family, 
+of a state, and of the great society of mankind, was the object 
+which the ancient moral philosophy proposed to investigate. In 
+
+
+
+629 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+that philosophy, thedutiesof human life were treated of as subser- 
+vient to the happiness and perfection of human life, But when 
+moral, as well as natural philosophy, came to be taught only as 
+subservient to theology, thedutiesof human life were treated of as 
+chiefly subservient to the happiness of a life to come. I n the an- 
+cient philosophy, the perfection of virtue was represented as nec- 
+essarily productive, to the person who possessed it, of the most 
+perfect happiness in this life. In the modern philosophy, it was 
+frequently represented as generally, or rather as almost always, in- 
+consistent with any degree of happiness in this life; and heaven 
+was to be earned only by penance and mortification, by the aus- 
+terities and abasement of a monk, not by the liberal, generous, 
+and spirited conduct of a man. Casuistry, and an ascetic morality, 
+made up, in most cases, the greater part of the moral philosophy 
+of the schools. By far the most important of all the different 
+branches of philosophy became in this manner by far the most 
+corrupted. 
+
+Such, therefore, was the common course of philosophical edu- 
+cation in the greater part of the universities in Europe. Logic was 
+taught first; ontology came in the second place; pneumatology, 
+comprehending thedoctrine concerning the nature of the human 
+soul and of the Deity, in the third; in the fourth followed a de- 
+based system of moral philosophy, which was considered as im- 
+
+
+
+mediately connected with the doctrines of pneumatology, with 
+the immortality of the human soul, and with the rewards and 
+punishments which, from the justice of the Deity, were to be ex- 
+pected in a life to come: a short and superficial system of physics 
+usually concluded the course. 
+
+T healterations which theuniversities of Europethus introduced 
+into the ancient course of philosophy were all meant for the edu- 
+cation of ecclesiastics, and to render it a moreproper introduction 
+to the study of theology But the additional quantity of subtlety 
+and sophistry, the casuistry and ascetic morality which those alter- 
+ations introduced into it, certainly did not render it more for the 
+education of gentlemen or men of the world, or morelikely either 
+to improve the understanding or to mend the heart. 
+
+Thiscourse of philosophy is what still continues to be taught in 
+the greater part of the universities of Europe, with more or less 
+diligence, according as the constitution of each particular univer- 
+sity happensto render diligence moreor lessnecessary to theteach- 
+ers. In some of the richest and best endowed universities, the tu- 
+tors content themselves with teaching a few unconnected shreds 
+and parcels of this corrupted course; and even these they com- 
+monly teach very negligently and superficially. 
+
+The improvements which, in modern times have been madein 
+several different branchesof philosophy, havenot, the greater part 
+
+
+
+630 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+of them, been madein universities, though some, no doubt, have. 
+The greater part of universities have not even been very forward 
+to adopt those improvements after they were made; and several of 
+those learned societies have chosen to remain, for a longtime, the 
+sanctuaries in which exploded systems and obsolete prejudices 
+found shelter and protection, after they had been hunted out of 
+every other corner of the world. In general, the richest and best 
+endowed universitieshavebeen slowest in adoptingthoseimprove- 
+ments, and the most averse to permit any considerable change in 
+the established plan of education. Those improvements were more 
+easily introduced into some of the poorer universities, in which 
+theteachers, depending upon their reputation for thegreater part 
+of their subsistence, were obliged to pay more attention to the 
+current opinions of the world. 
+
+But though the public schools and universities of Europe were 
+originally intended only for the education of a particular profes- 
+sion, that of churchmen; and though they were not always very 
+diligent in instructing their pupils, even in thesciences which were 
+supposed necessary for that profession; yet they gradually drew to 
+themselves the education of almost all other people, particularly 
+of almost all gentlemen and men of fortune. N o better method, it 
+seems, could befallen upon, of spending, with any advantage, the 
+long interval between infancy and that period of life at which men 
+
+
+
+begin to apply in good earnest to the real business of the world, 
+the business which is to employ them during the remainder of 
+their days. Thegreater part of what istaught in schools and uni- 
+versities, however, does not seem to be the most proper prepara- 
+tion for that business. 
+
+In England, it becomes every day more and morethecustomto 
+send young peopleto travel in foreign countriesimmediately upon 
+their leaving school, and without sending them to any university. 
+Our young people, it is said, generally return home much im- 
+proved by their travels. A young man, who goes abroad at seven- 
+teen or eighteen, and returns home at one-and-twenty, returns 
+three or fouryears older than he was when he went abroad; and at 
+that age it is very difficult not to improve a good deal in three or 
+fouryears. In the course of his travels, hegenerally acquires some 
+knowledge of one or two foreign languages; a knowledge, how- 
+ever, which is seldom sufficient to enable him either to speak or 
+write them with propriety. In other respects, he commonly re- 
+turns home more conceited, moreunprincipled, moredissipated, 
+and more incapable of my serious application, either to study or 
+to business, than hecould well havebecomein so short atimehad 
+he lived at home. By travelling so very young, by spending in the 
+most frivolous dissipation the most previous years of his life, at a 
+distance from the inspection and control of his parents and rda- 
+
+
+
+631 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+tions, every useful habit, which the earlier parts of his education 
+might have had some tendency to form in him, instead of being 
+riveted and confirmed, is almost necessarily either weakened or 
+effaced. N othing but the discredit into which the universities are 
+allowing them selvesto fall, could ever havebrought into repute so 
+very absurd a practice as that of travelling at this early period of 
+life. By sending his son abroad, a father delivers himself, at least 
+for some time, from so disagreeable an object as that of a son 
+unemployed, neglected, and going to ruin before his eyes. 
+
+Such have been the effects of some of the modern institutions 
+for education. 
+
+D ifferent plansand different institutionsfor education seem to 
+have taken placein other ages and nations. 
+
+In the republics of ancient Greece, every free citizen was in- 
+structed, under thedirection of the public magistrate, in gymnas- 
+tic exercises and in music. By gymnastic exercises, it was intended 
+to harden hisbody, to sharpen hiscourage, and to preparehim for 
+the fatigues and dangers of war; and as the Greek militia was, by 
+all accounts, oneofthebest that ever wasin theworld, thispart of 
+their public education must have answered completely the pur- 
+pose for which it was intended. By the other part, music, it was 
+proposed, at least by the philosophers and historians, who have 
+given us an account of those institutions, to humanize the mind, 
+
+
+
+to soften the tern per, and to dispose it for performing all the social 
+and moral duties of public and private life. 
+
+In ancient Rome, theexercises of theCampusM arti us answered 
+the same purpose as those of the Gymnasium in ancient Greece, 
+and they seem to have answered it equally well. But among the 
+Romans there was nothing which corresponded to the musical 
+education of the Greeks. The morals of the Romans, however, 
+both in private and public life, seem to have been, not only equal, 
+but, upon the whole, a good deal superior to those of the G reeks. 
+That they were superior in private life, we have the express testi- 
+mony of Polybius, and of Dionysius of H alicarnassus, two au- 
+thors well acquainted with both nations; and the whole tenor of 
+the G reek and Roman history bears witness to the superiority of 
+the public morals of the Romans. T he good temper and modera- 
+tion of contending factionsseem to be the most essential circum- 
+stances in the public morals of a free people. But the factions of 
+the G reeks were almost always violent and sanguinary; whereas, 
+till the time of the Gracchi, no blood had ever been shed in any 
+Roman faction; and from the time of the Gracchi, the Roman 
+republic may be considered asin reality dissolved. Notwithstand- 
+ing, therefore, the very respectable authority of Plato, Aristotle, 
+and Polybius, and notwithstanding the very ingenious reasons by 
+which M r. M ontesquieu endeavours to support that authority, it 
+
+
+
+632 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+seems probable that the musical education of the Greeks had no 
+great effect in mending their morals, since, without any such edu- 
+cation, those of the Romans were, upon thewhole, superior.The 
+respect of those ancient sagesfor the institutionsof their ancestors 
+had probably disposed them to find much political wisdom in 
+what was, perhaps, merely an ancient custom, continued, without 
+interruption, from theearliest period of those societies, to thetimes 
+in which they had arrived at a considerable degree of refinement. 
+Music and dancing arethegreat amusements of almost all barba- 
+rous nations, and the great accomplishments which are supposed 
+tofitanyman for entertaining hissociety Itisso at thisday among 
+the negroes on the coast of Africa. It was so among the ancient 
+Celtes, among the ancient Scandinavians, and, as we may learn 
+from Homer, among the ancient Greeks, in the times preceding 
+the Trojan war. When the Greek tribes had formed themselves 
+into little republics, it was natural that the study of those accom- 
+plishments should for a long time make a part of the public and 
+common education of the people. 
+
+The masters who instructed the young people, either in music 
+or in military exercises, do not seem to have been paid, or even 
+appointed by the state, either in Romeor even at Athens, theG reek 
+republic of whose laws and customs wearethebest informed. The 
+state required that every free citizen should fit himself for defend- 
+
+
+
+ing it in war, and should upon that account, learn his military 
+exercises. But it left him to learn them of such masters as he could 
+find; and it seems to have advanced nothing for this purpose, but 
+a public field or place of exercise, in which heshould practise and 
+perform them. 
+
+I n the early ages, both of the G reek and Roman republics, the 
+other parts of education seem to have consisted in learning to 
+read, write, and account, according to thearithmetic of thetimes. 
+These accomplishmen ts thericher ci tizensseem frequentlyto have 
+acquired at home, by the assistance of some domestic pedagogue, 
+who was, generally, either a slave or a freedman; and the poorer 
+citizensin the schools of such masters as made a trade of teaching 
+for hire. Such parts of education, however, were abandoned alto- 
+gether to thecare of theparents or guardiansof each individual. It 
+does not appear that the state ever assumed any inspection or di- 
+rection of them. By a law of Solon, indeed, the children were ac- 
+quitted from maintaining those parents who had neglected to in- 
+struct them in some profitable trade or business. 
+
+In the progress of refinement, when philosophy and rhetoric 
+came into fashion, the better sort of people used to send their 
+children to the schools of philosophers and rhetoricians, in order 
+to be instructed in these fash ion able sciences. But those schools 
+were not supported by the public. They were, for a long time, 
+
+
+
+633 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+barely tolerated by it. The demand for philosophy and rhetoric 
+was, for a long time, so small, that the first professed teachers of 
+either could not find constant employment in any one city, but 
+were obliged to travel about from place to place. I n this manner 
+lived Zeno of Elea, Protagoras, Gorgias, H ippias, and many oth- 
+ers. As the demand increased, the school, both of philosophy and 
+rhetoric, becamestationary, first in Athens, and afterwards in sev- 
+eral other cities. T he state, however, seems never to have encour- 
+aged them further, than by assigning to some of them a particular 
+place to teach in, which was sometimes done, too, by private do- 
+nors. The state seems to have assigned the Academy to Plato, the 
+Lyceum to Aristotle, and the Portico to Zeno of C itta, thefounder 
+of the Stoics. But Epicurus bequeathed his gardens to his own 
+school. Till about the time of M arcus Antoninus, however, no 
+teacher appears to have had any salary from the public, or to have 
+had any other emoluments, but what arose from the honorarius 
+or fees of his scholars. T he bounty which that philosophical em- 
+peror, aswelearn from Lucian, bestowed upon one of the teachers 
+of philosophy, probably lasted no longer than his own life. There 
+was nothing equivalent to theprivileges of graduation; and to have 
+attended any of those schools was not necessary, in order to be 
+permitted to practise any particular tradeor profession. If theopin- 
+ion of their own utility could not draw scholars to them, the law 
+
+
+
+neither forced anybody to go to them, nor rewarded anybody for 
+having gone to them. The teachers had no jurisdiction over their 
+pupils, nor any other authority besides that natural authority which 
+superior virtueand abilitiesneverfail to procurefrom young people 
+towards those who are entrusted with any part of their education. 
+At Rome, thestudy of thecivil lawmadeapartoftheeducation, 
+not of the greater part of the citizens, but of some particular fami- 
+lies. T heyoung people, however, who wished to acquire knowledge 
+in the law, had no public school to go to, and had no other method 
+of studying it, than by frequenting the company of such of their 
+relations and friends as were supposed to understand it. It is, per- 
+haps, worth while to remark, that though the laws of the twelve 
+tables were many of them copied from thoseof someancient G reek 
+republics, yet law never seems to have grown up to be a science in 
+any republic of ancient G reece. I n Rome it became a science very 
+early, and gave a considerable degree of illustration to those citizens 
+who had the reputation of understanding it. In the republics of 
+an cientGreece, parti cularly in Athens, theordinarycourtsof justice 
+consisted of numerous, and therefore disorderly, bodies of people, 
+who frequently decided almost at random, or as clamour, faction, 
+and party-spirit, happened to determine. The ignominy of an un- 
+just decision, when it was to be divided among five hundred, a 
+thousand, or fifteen hundred people (for some of their courts were 
+
+
+
+634 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+so very numerous), could not fall very heavy upon any individual. 
+At Rome, on the contrary, the principal courts of justice consisted 
+either of asinglejudge, or of a small number of judges, whosechar- 
+acters, especially as they deliberated always in public, could not fail 
+to be very much affected by any rash or unjust decision. In doubtful 
+cases such courts, from their anxiety to avoid blame, would natu- 
+rally endeavour to shelter themselves under the example or prece- 
+dent of the judges who had sat before them, either in thesameor in 
+some other court. This attention to practice and precedent, neces- 
+sarily formed the Roman law into that regular and orderly system in 
+which it has been delivered down to us; and the like attention has 
+had the I ike effects upon thelawsof every other country where such 
+attention has taken place. The superiority of character in the Ro- 
+mans over that of the G reeks, so much remarked by Polybius and 
+Dionysiusof H alicarnassus, was probably more owing to the better 
+constitution of their courts of justice, than to any of the circum- 
+stances to which those authors ascribe it. The Romans are said to 
+have been particularly distinguished for their superior respect to an 
+oath. But the people who were accustomed to make oath only be- 
+fore somediligent and well informed court of justice, would natu- 
+rally be much more attentive to what they swore, than they who 
+were accustomed to do the same thing before mobbish and disor- 
+derly assemblies. 
+
+
+
+The abilities, both civil and military, of the Greeks and Ro- 
+mans, will readily be allowed to have been at least equal to those 
+of any modern nation. Our prejudice is perhaps rather to overrate 
+them. But except in what related to military exercises, the state 
+seems to have been at no painstoform those great abilities; fori 
+cannot be induced to believe that the musical education of the 
+Greeks could beof much consequence in forming them. Masters, 
+however, had been found, it seems, for instructing the better sort 
+of people among those nations, in every art and science in which 
+the circumstances of their society rendered it necessary or conve- 
+nient for them to be instructed. Thedemand for such instruction 
+produced, what it always produces, the talent for giving it; and 
+the emulation which an unrestrained competition never fails to 
+excite, appears to have brought that talent to a very high degree of 
+perfection. In the attention which the ancient philosophers ex- 
+cited, in the empire which they acquired over the opinions and 
+principlesof their auditors, in thefaculty which they possessed of 
+giving a certain tone and character to the conduct and conversa- 
+tion of those auditors, they appear to have been much superior to 
+any modern teachers. In modern times, the diligence of public 
+teachers is more or less corrupted bythecircumstanceswhich ren- 
+der them more or less independent of theirsuccess and reputation 
+in their particular professions. Their salaries, too, put the private 
+
+
+
+635 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+teacher, who would pretend to comeinto competition with them, 
+in the same state with a merchant who attempts to trade without 
+a bounty, in competition with those who trade with a consider- 
+able one. If he sells his goods at nearly the same price, he cannot 
+have thesame profit; and poverty and beggary at least, if not bank- 
+ruptcy and ruin, will infallibly be his lot. If he attempts to sell 
+them much dearer, he is likely to have so few customers, that his 
+circumstanceswill notbemuch mended. Theprivilegesof gradu- 
+ation, besides, arein many countries necessary, or at least extremely 
+convenient, to most men of learned professions, that is, to thefar 
+greater part of those who have occasion for a learned education. 
+But those privileges can be obtained only by attending the lec- 
+turesofthepublicteachers.Themost careful attendance upon the 
+ablest instructions of any private teacher cannot always give any 
+title to demand them. It is from these different causes that the 
+private teacher of any of thesciences, which are commonly taught 
+in universities, is, in modern times, generally considered as in the 
+very lowest order of men of letters. A man of real abilities can 
+scarce find out a more humiliating or a more unprofitable em- 
+ployment to turn them to. T he endowments of schools and col- 
+leges have in this manner not only corrupted thediligence of pub- 
+lic teachers, but have rendered it almost impossible to have any 
+good private ones. 
+
+
+
+Were there no public institutionsfor education, no system, no 
+science, would be taught, for which there was not some demand, 
+or which the circumstances of the times did not render it either 
+necessary or convenient, or at least fashionableto learn. A private 
+teacher could never find hisaccountin teaching either an exploded 
+and antiquated system of a science acknowledged to be useful, or 
+a science universally believed to be a mere useless and pedantic 
+heap of sophistry and nonsense. Such systems, such sciences, can 
+subsist nowhere but in those incorporated societies for education, 
+whose prosperity and revenuearein a great measure independent 
+of their industry. Were there no public institutionsfor education, 
+a gentleman, after going through, with application and abilities, 
+the most complete course of education which the circumstances 
+of the times were supposed to afford, could not come into the 
+world completely ignorant of everything which is the common 
+subject of conversation among gentlemen and men of the world. 
+
+T here are no public institutions for the education of women, 
+and there is accordingly nothing useless, absurd, or fantastical, in 
+thecommon courseof their education. They are taught what their 
+parentsor guardiansjudge it necessary or useful for them to learn, 
+and they are taught nothing else. Every part of their education 
+tends evidently to someuseful purpose; either to improve thenatu- 
+ral attractions of their person, or to form their mind to reserve, to 
+
+
+
+636 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+modesty, to chastity, and to economy; to render them both likely 
+to becamethemistressesof a family, and to behave properly when 
+they have become such. In every part of her life, a woman feels 
+someconveniency or advantage from every part of her education. 
+It seldom happensthataman, in any part of his life, derives any 
+conveniency or advantage from some of the most laborious and 
+troublesome parts of hiseducation. 
+
+Ought the public, therefore, to give no attention, it may be 
+asked, to the education of the people? Or, if it ought to give any, 
+what are the different parts of education which it ought to attend 
+toin thedifferentordersof thepeople? and in what manner ought 
+it to attend to them? 
+
+I n some cases, the state of society necessarily places the greater 
+part of individuals in such situations as naturally form in them, 
+without any attention of government, almost all the abilities and 
+virtues which that state requires, or perhaps can admit of. In other 
+cases, the state of the society does not place the greater part of 
+individuals in such situations; and some attention of government 
+is necessary, in order to prevent the almost entire corruption and 
+degeneracy of the great body of the people. 
+
+In the progress of thedivision of labour, the employment of the 
+far greater part of those who live by labour, that is, of the great 
+body of the people, comes to be confined to a few very simple 
+
+
+
+operations; frequently to one or two. But the understandings of 
+the greater part of men are necessarily formed by their ordinary 
+employments. T he man whose whole life is spent in performing a 
+few simple operations, of which the effects, too, are perhaps al- 
+ways the same, or very nearly the same, has no occasion to exert 
+his understanding, or to exercise his invention, in finding out ex- 
+pedientsfor removing difficulties which never occur. Henaturally 
+loses, therefore, the habit of such exertion, and generally becomes 
+as stupid and ignorant as it is possible for a human creature to 
+become. T he torpor of his mind renders him not only incapable 
+of relishing or bearing a part in any rational conversation, but of 
+conceiving any generous, noble, or tender sentiment, and conse- 
+quently of forming any just judgment concerning many even of 
+the ordinary duties of private life. Of the great and extensive in- 
+terests of his country he is altogether incapable of judging; and 
+unless very particular painshavebeen taken to render him other- 
+wise, he is equally incapable of defending hiscountry in war.The 
+uniformity of his stationary life naturally corrupts the courage of 
+his mind, and makes him regard, with abhorrence, the irregular, 
+uncertain, and adventurous life of a soldier. It corrupts even the 
+activity of his body, and renders him incapable of exerting his 
+strength with vigour and perseverance in any other employment, 
+than that to which he has been bred. H is dexterity at his own 
+
+
+
+637 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+particular trade seems, in this manner, to be acquired at the ex- 
+pense of his intellectual, social, and martial virtues. But in every 
+improved and civilized society, this is the state into which the 
+labouring poor, that is, the great body of the people, must neces- 
+sarily fall, unless government takes some pains to prevent it. 
+
+1 1 is otherwise in the barbarous societies, as they are commonly 
+called, of hunters, of shepherds, and even of husbandmen in that 
+rudestateof husbandry which precedes theimprovement of manu- 
+factures, and the extension of foreign commerce. In such societ- 
+ies, the varied occupations of every man oblige every man to exert 
+his capacity, and to invent expedients for removing difficulties 
+which are continually occurring. Invention is kept alive, and the 
+mind is not suffered to fall into that drowsy stupidity, which, in a 
+civilized society, seemsto benumbtheunderstandingof almost all 
+the inferior ranks of people. I n those barbarous societies, as they 
+are called, every man, it has already been observed, is a warrior. 
+Every man, too, is in some measure a statesman, and can form a 
+tolerable judgment concerning the interest of the society, and the 
+conduct of those who govern it. H ow far their chiefs are good 
+judgesin peace, or good leadersin war, is obvious to the observa- 
+tion of almost every single man among them. In such a society, 
+indeed, no man can well acquire that improved and refined un- 
+derstanding which a few men sometimes possess in a more civi- 
+
+
+
+lized state. Though in a rude society there is a good deal of variety 
+in the occupations of every individual, there is not a great deal in 
+those of the whole society. Everyman does, or iscapableof doing, 
+almost every thing which any other man does, or is capable of 
+being. Every man has a considerable degree of knowledge, inge- 
+nuity, and invention but scarce any man has a great degree. T he 
+degree, however, which is commonly possessed, is generally suffi- 
+cient for conducting thewholesimplebusinessof thesociety. In a 
+civilized state, on thecontrary, though there is little variety in the 
+occupations of the greater part of individuals, there is an almost 
+infinite variety in those of the whole society These varied occupa- 
+tions present an almost infinite variety of objects to the contem- 
+plation of those few, who, being attached to no particular occupa- 
+tion themselves, haveleisure and inclination to examinetheoccu- 
+pationsof other people. The contemplation of so great a variety of 
+objects necessarily exercises their minds in endless comparisons 
+and combinations, and renders their understandings, in an ex- 
+traordinary degree, both acute anti comprehensive. Unless those 
+few, however, happen to be placed in some very particular situa- 
+tions, their great abilities, though honourableto themselves, may 
+contributevery littletothegood government or happinessof their 
+society. N otwithstanding the great abilities of those few, all the 
+nobler parts of the human character may be, in a great measure, 
+
+
+
+638 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+obliterated and extinguished in the great body of the people. 
+
+The education of the common people requires, perhaps, in a 
+civilized and commercial society, theattention of thepublic, more 
+than that of people of some rank and fortune. People of some 
+rank and fortune are generally eighteen or nineteen years of age 
+before they enter upon that particular business, profession, or trade, 
+by which they propose to distinguish themselves in the world. 
+T hey have, before that, full timeto acquire, or at least to fit them- 
+selves for afterwards acquiring, every accomplishment which can 
+recommend them to the public esteem, or render them worthy of 
+it. Their parents or guardians are generally sufficiently anxious 
+that they should be so accomplished, and are in most cases, will- 
+ing enough to lay out the expense which is necessary for that pur- 
+pose. If they are not always properly educated, it is seldom from 
+the want of expense laid out upon their education, but from the 
+improper application of that expense. It is seldom from the want 
+of masters, but from the negligence and incapacity of the masters 
+who are to be had, and from the difficulty, or rather from the 
+impossibility, which thereis, in the present state of things, of find- 
+ing any better. The employments, too, in which people of some 
+rank or fortune spend the greater part of their lives, are not, like 
+those of the common people, simple and uniform. They are al- 
+most all of them extremely complicated, and such as exercise the 
+
+
+
+head more than the hands. T he understandings of those who are 
+engaged in such employments, can seldom grow torpid for want 
+of exercise. The employments of people of some rank and for- 
+tune, besides, are seldom such as harass them from morning to 
+night. They generally have a good deal of leisure, during which 
+they may perfect themselves in every branch, either of useful or 
+ornamental knowledge, of which they may have laid the founda- 
+tion, or for which they may have acquired sometastein theearlier 
+part of life. 
+
+1 1 is otherwise with the common people. T hey have little time 
+to spare for education. Their parents can scarce afford to maintain 
+them, even in infancy. As soon as they are able to work, they must 
+apply to some trade, by which they can earn their subsistence. 
+That trade, too, isgenerally so simpleand uniform, as to give little 
+exercise to the understanding; while, atthesametime, their labour 
+is both so constant and so severe, that it leaves them little leisure 
+and less inclination to apply to, or even to think of any thing else. 
+
+But though thecommon peoplecannot, in any civilized society, 
+be so well instructed as peopleof some rank and fortune; themost 
+essential parts of education, however, to read, write, and account, 
+can be acquired at so early a period of life, that the greater part, 
+even of those who are to be bred to the lowest occupations, have 
+timeto acquire them before they can be employed in those occu- 
+
+
+
+639 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+pations. For a very small expense, the public can facilitate, can 
+encourage and can even impose upon almost the whole body of 
+the people, thenecessity of acquiring those most essential parts of 
+education. 
+
+Thepubliccan facilitate this acquisition, by establishing in ev- 
+ery parish or district a little school, where children maybe taught 
+for a reward so moderate, that even a common labourer may af- 
+ford it; themaster being partly, but not wholly, paid by thepublic; 
+because, if hewas wholly, or even principally, paid by it, hewould 
+soon learn to neglect his business. In Scotland, the establishment 
+of such parish schoolshas taught almost thewholecommon people 
+to read, and a very great proportion of them to writeand account. 
+In England, theestablishment of charity schoolshashad an effect 
+of thesame kind, though not so universally, because the establish- 
+ment is not so universal. If, in those little schools, the books by 
+which the children are taught to read, were a little more instruc- 
+tive than they commonly are; and if, instead of a little smattering 
+in Latin, which thechildren of thecommon people are sometimes 
+taught there, and which can scarce ever be of any use to them, 
+they were instructed in the elementary parts of geometry and 
+mechanics; the literary education of this rank of people would, 
+perhaps, be as complete as can be. T here isscarcea common trade, 
+which does not afford some opportunities of applying to it the 
+
+
+
+principlesof geometry and mechanics, and which would not, there- 
+fore, gradually exercise and improve the common peoplein those 
+principles, thenecessary introduction to themost sublime, as well 
+as to the most useful sciences. 
+
+T he public can encourage the acquisition of those most essen- 
+tial parts of education, bygivingsmall premiums, and littlebadges 
+of distinction, to thechildren of thecommon people who excel in 
+them. 
+
+Thepubliccan imposeupon almost thewholebody of thepeople 
+thenecessity of acquiringthemost essential parts of education, by 
+obliging every man to undergo an examination or probation in 
+them, beforehecan obtain thefreedom in any corporation, or be 
+allowed to set up any trade, either in a village or town corporate. 
+
+It was in this manner, by facilitating the acquisition of their 
+military and gymnastic exercises, by encouraging it, and even by 
+imposing upon thewholebody of the peoplethe necessity of learn- 
+ing those exercises, that the Greek and Roman republics main- 
+tained the martial spirit of their respective citizens. They facili- 
+tated the acquisition of those exercises, by appointing a certain 
+place for learning and practising them, and by granting to certain 
+masters the privilege of teaching in that place. Those masters do 
+not appear to havehad either salaries or exclusive privilegesof any 
+kind. Their reward consisted altogether in what they got from 
+
+
+
+640 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+their scholars; and a citizen, who had learnt his exercises in the 
+public gymnasia, had no sort of legal advantageover one who had 
+learnt them privately, provided the latter had learned them equally 
+well. Those republics encouraged the acquisition of those exer- 
+cises, by bestowing littlepremiumsand badgesof distinction upon 
+those who excelled in them. To have gained a prize in the Olym- 
+pic, Isthmian, or Nemaean games, gave illustration, not only to 
+the person who gained it, but to his whole family and kindred. 
+The obligation which every citizen was under, to serve a certain 
+number of years, if called upon, in the armies of the republic, 
+sufficiently imposed the necessity of learning those exercises, with- 
+out which he could not befit for that service. 
+
+That in the progress of improvement, the practice of military 
+exercises, unless government takes proper painsto support it, goes 
+gradually to decay, and, together with it, the martial spirit of the 
+great body of the people, the example of modern Europe suffi- 
+ciently demonstrates. But the security of every society must al- 
+ways depend, more or less, upon the martial spirit of the great 
+body of the people. In the present times, indeed, that martial spirit 
+alone, and unsupported by a well-disciplined standing army, would 
+not, perhaps, be sufficient for the defence and security of any so- 
+ciety. But where every citizen had the spirit of a soldier, a smaller 
+standing army would surely be requisite. T hat spirit, besides, would 
+
+
+
+necessarily diminish very much the dangers to liberty, whether 
+real or imaginary, which arecommonly apprehended from a stand- 
+ing army. As it would very much facilitate the operations of that 
+army again st a foreign invader; so it would obstruct them asmuch, 
+if unfortunately they should ever be directed against the constitu- 
+tion of the state. 
+
+T heancientinstitutionsof Greece and Romeseem to have been 
+much moreeffectual for maintaining themartial spirit of the great 
+body of the people, than the establishment of what are called the 
+militias of modern times. They were much more simple. When 
+they were once established, they executed themselves, and it re- 
+quired little or no attention from government to maintain them 
+in themost perfect vigour. W hereasto maintain, even in tolerable 
+execution, thecomplexregulationsof any modern militia, requires 
+thecontinual and painful attention of government, without which 
+they are constantly falling into total neglect and disuse. Theinflu- 
+ence, besides, of the ancient institutions, was much more univer- 
+sal. By means of them, the whole body of the people was com- 
+pletely instructed in theuseof arms; whereas it is but a very small 
+part of them who can ever be so instructed by the regulations of 
+any modern militia, except, perhaps, that of Switzerland. But a 
+coward, a man in capable either of defending or of revenging him- 
+sdf, evidently wants one of the most essential parts of the charac- 
+
+
+
+641 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+terof a man. He is as much mutilated and deformed in his mind 
+as another is in his body, who is either deprived of some of its 
+most essential members, or has lost the use of them. H e is evi- 
+dently the more wretched and miserableof thetwo; becausehap- 
+pinessand misery, which reside altogether in themind, must nec- 
+essarily depend moreupon thehealthful or un healthful, themuti- 
+lated or entire state of themind, than upon that of the body. Even 
+though the martial spirit of the people were of no use towardsthe 
+defence of the society, yet, to prevent that sort of mental mutila- 
+tion, deformity, and wretchedness, which cowardice necessarily 
+involves in it, from spreading themselves through the great body 
+of the people, would still deserve the most serious attention of 
+government; in thesamemannerasit would deserve itsmost seri- 
+ous attention to prevent a leprosy, or any other loathsome and 
+offensive disease, though neither mortal nor dangerous, from 
+spreading itself among them; though, perhaps, no other public 
+good might result from such attention, besides the prevention of 
+so great a public evil. 
+
+Thesamethingmaybesaid of the gross ignorance and stupid- 
+ity which, in a civilized society, seem so frequently to benumb the 
+understandings of all the inferior ranks of people. A man without 
+the proper use of the intellectual faculties of aman, is, if possible, 
+more contemptible than even a coward, and seems to be muti- 
+
+
+
+lated and deformed in a still more essential part of thecharacterof 
+human nature. Though the state was to derive no advantage from 
+the instruction of the inferior ranks of people, it would still de- 
+serveits attention that they should not be altogether uninstructed. 
+Thestate, however, derivesno inconsiderableadvantagefrom their 
+instruction. The more they are instructed, the less liable they are 
+to the delusions of enthusiasm and superstition, which, among 
+ignorant nationsfrequently occasion the most dreadful disorders. 
+An instructed and intelligent people, besides, are always more de- 
+cent and orderly than an ignorant and stupid one. They feel them- 
+selves, each individually, more respectable, and more likely to ob- 
+tain the respect of their lawful superiors, and they are, therefore, 
+more disposed to respect those superiors. T hey are more disposed 
+to examine, and more capable of seeing through, the interested 
+complaints of faction and sedition; and they are, upon that ac- 
+count, lessaptto bemisled into any wanton or unnecessary oppo- 
+sition to the measures of government. In free countries, where the 
+safety of government depends very much upon thefavourablejudg- 
+ment which the people may form of its conduct, it must surely be 
+of the highest importance, that they should not be disposed to 
+judge rashly or capriciously concerning it. 
+
+
+
+642 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+A it. 1 1 1 . — f the Expense of the I nstitutions for the I nstruc- 
+tion of People of all Ages. 
+
+The institutions for the instruction of people of all ages, are 
+chiefly those for religious instruction. T his is a species of instruc- 
+tion, of which theobject isnotso much to render the people good 
+citizens in this world, as to prepare them for another and a better 
+world in thelife to come.Theteachers of thedoctrinewhich con- 
+tains this instruction, in the same manner as other teachers, may 
+either depend altogether for their subsistence upon the voluntary 
+contributions of their hearers; or they may derive it from some 
+other fund, to which the law of their country may entitle them; 
+such asa landed estate, a tytheor land tax, an established salary or 
+stipend. Their exertion, their zeal and industry, are likely to be 
+much greater in the former situation than in the latter. In this 
+respect, the teachers of anew religion have always had a consider- 
+able advantage in attacking those ancient and established systems, 
+ofwhichthedergy, reposingthemselvesupon their benefices, had 
+neglected to keep up thefervour of faith and devotion in thegreat 
+body of the people; and having given themselves up to indolence, 
+were become altogether incapable of making any vigorous exer- 
+tion in defence even of their own establishment. The clergy of an 
+established and well endowed religion frequently become men of 
+learning and elegance, who possess all thevirtuesof gentlemen, or 
+
+
+
+which can recommend them to theesteem of gentlemen; but they 
+are apt gradually to lose the qualities, both good and bad, which 
+gavethem authority and influence with theinferiorranksof people, 
+and which had perhaps been theoriginal causes of the success and 
+establishment of their religion. Such a clergy, when attacked by a 
+set of popular and bold, though perhaps stupid and ignorant en- 
+thusiasts, feel themselves as perfectly defenceless as the indolent, 
+effeminate, and full fed nationsof thesouthern partsof Asia, when 
+they were invaded by the active, hardy, and hungry Tartars of the 
+north. Such a clergy, upon such an emergency, have commonly 
+no other resource than to call upon the civil magistrate to perse- 
+cute, destroy, or drive out their adversaries, as disturbers of the 
+public peace. It was thus that the Roman catholic clergy called 
+upon the civil magistrate to persecute the protestants, and the 
+church of England to persecute the dissenters; and that in general 
+every religious sect, when it has once enjoyed, for a century or 
+two, the security of a legal establishment, has found itself inca- 
+pable of making any vigorous defence against any new sect which 
+chose to attack its doctrine or discipline. Upon such occasions, 
+the advantage, in point of learning and good writing, may some- 
+times be on the side of the established church. But the arts of 
+popularity, all theartsof gaining proselytes, are constantly on the 
+side of its adversaries. In England, those arts have been long ne- 
+
+
+
+643 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+glected by thewell endowed clergy of the established church, and 
+are at present chiefly cultivated bythedissentersand bythemeth- 
+odists.Theindependentprovisions, however, which in manyplaces 
+have been made for dissenting teachers, by means of voluntary 
+subscriptions, of trust rights, and other evasions of the law, seem 
+very much to have abated the zeal and activity of those teachers. 
+They have many of them become very learned, ingenious, and 
+respectable men; but they have in general ceased to be very popu- 
+lar preachers. The methodists, without half the learning of the 
+dissenters, are much more in vogue. 
+
+In the church of Rome the industry and zeal of the inferior 
+clergy are kept more alive by the powerful motive of self-interest, 
+than perhaps in any established protestant church. The parochial 
+clergy derive many of them, a very considerable part of their sub- 
+sistence from the voluntary oblations of the people; a source of 
+revenue, which confession gives them many opportunities of im- 
+proving. Themendicant ordersderive their wholesubsistencefrom 
+such oblations. It iswith them as with thehussarsand light infan- 
+try of some armies; no plunder, no pay. The parochial clergy are 
+I ike those teachers whose reward depends partly upon their salary, 
+and partly upon the fees or honoraries which they get from their 
+pupils; and these must always depend, more or less, upon their 
+industry and reputation. Themendicant orders arelikethose teach- 
+
+
+
+ers whosesubsistencedependsaltogether upon their industry. T hey 
+are obliged, therefore, to use every art which can animate the de- 
+votion of thecommon people. Theestablishment of thetwo great 
+mendicant ordersof St Dominic and St. Francis, it isobserved by 
+M achiavel, revived, in thethirteenth and fourteenth centuries, the 
+languishing faith and devotion of the catholic church. In Roman 
+catholic countries, the spirit of devotion is supported altogether 
+by themonks, and bythepoorer parochial clergy. The great digni- 
+taries of the church, with all the accomplishments of gentlemen 
+and men of the world, and sometimes with those of men of learn- 
+ing, are careful to maintain the necessary discipline over their in- 
+feriors, but seldom give themselves any troubleabout the instruc- 
+tion of the people. 
+
+"M ostoftheartsand professions in a state," says by far the most 
+illustrious philosopher and historian of the present age, "are of 
+such a nature, that, whilethey promote theinterests of thesociety, 
+they are also useful or agreeableto some individuals; and, in that 
+case, the constant rule of the magistrate, except, perhaps, on the 
+first introduction of any art, is, to leave the profession to itself, 
+and trust its encouragement to the individuals who reap the ben- 
+efit of it. The artizans, finding their profits to rise by thefavour of 
+their customers, increase, as much as possible, their skill and in- 
+dustry; and as matters are not disturbed by any injudicious tam- 
+
+
+
+644 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+pering, thecommodityisalwayssureto beat all timesnearly pro- 
+portioned to the demand. 
+
+"But there are also somecallings which, though useful and even 
+necessary in a state, bring no advantage or pleasure to any indi- 
+vidual; and thesupreme power isobliged to alter its conduct with 
+regard to theretainersofthoseprofessions. Itmustgivethem public 
+encouragement in order to their subsistence; and it must provide 
+against that negligence to which they will naturally be subject, 
+either by annexing particular honours to profession, by establish- 
+ing a long subordination of ranks, and a strict dependence, or by 
+someother expedient. T hepersonsemployed in thefinances, fleets, 
+and magistracy, are instances of this order of men. 
+
+"It may naturally bethought, at first sight, that the ecclesiastics 
+belong to the first class, and that their encouragement, as well as 
+that of lawyers and physicians, may safely be entrusted to theliber- 
+ality of individuals, who are attached to their doctrines, and who 
+find benefit or consolation from their spiritual ministry and assis- 
+tance. Their industry and vigilance will, no doubt, be whetted by 
+such an additional motive; and their skill in the profession, as well 
+as their address in governing the minds of the people, must receive 
+daily increase, from their increasing practice, study, and attention. 
+
+"But if we consider the matter more closely, we shall find that 
+this interested diligence of the clergy is what every wise legislator 
+
+
+
+will study to prevent; because, in every religion except the true, it 
+is highly pernicious, and it has even a natural tendency to pervert 
+thetruth, by infusing into it a strong mixture of superstition, folly, 
+and delusion. Each ghostly practitioner, in order to render him- 
+self more precious and sacred in the eyes of his retainers, will in- 
+spire them with the most violent abhorrence of all other sects, and 
+continually endeavour, by some novelty, to excite the languid de- 
+votion of his audience. No regard will be paid to truth, morals, or 
+decency, in the doctrines inculcated. Every tenet will be adopted 
+that best suits the disorderly affections of the human frame. Cus- 
+tomers will be drawn to each conventicle by new industry and 
+address, in practising on the passions and credulity of the popu- 
+lace. And, in the end, the civil magistrate will find that he has 
+dearly paid for his intended frugality, in saving a fixed establish- 
+ment for the priests; and that, in reality, the most decent and ad- 
+vantageous composition, which he can make with the spiritual 
+guides, is to bribe their indolence, by assigning stated salaries to 
+their profession, and rendering it superfluous for them to be far- 
+ther active, than merely to prevent their flock from straying in 
+quest of new pastors. And in this manner ecclesiastical establish- 
+ments, though commonly they arose at first from religious views, 
+provein theend advantageousto thepolitical interests of society." 
+But whatever may have been thegood or bad effects of the inde- 
+
+
+
+645 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+pendent provision of the clergy, it has, perhaps, been very seldom 
+bestowed upon them from any view to those effects. Times of 
+violent religious controversy have generally been times of equally 
+violent political faction. Upon such occasions, each political party 
+has either found it, or imagined it, for his interest, to league itself 
+with someoneor other of thecontending religioussects. But this 
+could be done only by adopting, or, at least, by favouring the 
+tenets of that particular sect. T hesect which had thegood fortune 
+to be leagued with the conquering party necessarily shared in the 
+victory of its ally, by whose favour and protection it was soon 
+enabled, in some degree, to silence and subdue all its adversaries. 
+Those adversaries had generally leagued themselves with the en- 
+emies of the con quering party, and were, therefore theenemies of 
+that party. The clergy of this particular sect having thus become 
+complete masters of the field, and their influence and authority 
+with thegreat body of the people being in its highest vigour, they 
+were powerful enough to overawe the chiefs and leaders of their 
+own party, and to oblige thecivil magistrateto respect their opin- 
+ions and inclinations. Their first demand was generally that he 
+should silence and subdue all their adversaries; and their second, 
+that he should bestow an independent provision on themselves. 
+As they had generally contributed a good deal to the victory, it 
+seemed not unreason able that they should have some share in the 
+
+
+
+spoil. They were weary, besides, of humouring the people, and of 
+depending upon their caprice for a subsistence. I n making this de- 
+mand, therefore, they consulted their own ease and comfort, with- 
+out troubling themselves about the effect which it might have, in 
+future times, upon the influence and authority of their order. The 
+civil magistrate, who could comply with their demand only by giv- 
+ing them something which he would have chosen much rather to 
+take, or to keep to himself, was seldom very forward to grant it. 
+N ecessity, however, alwaysforced him to submit at last, though fre- 
+quently not till after many delays, evasions, and affected excuses. 
+
+But if politics had never called in the aid of religion, had the 
+conquering party never adopted the tenets of one sect more than 
+those of another, when it had gained the victory, it would prob- 
+ably have dealt equally and impartially with all the different sects, 
+and have allowed every man to choosehisown priest, and hisown 
+religion, ashethought proper. There would, and, in thiscase, no 
+doubt, have been, a great multitude of religioussects. Almost ev- 
+ery different congregation might probably have had a little sect by 
+itself, or have entertained some peculiar tenets of its own. Each 
+teacher, would, no doubt, have felt himself under the necessity of 
+making the utmost exertion, and of using every art, both to pre- 
+serve and to increase the number of his disciples. But as every 
+other teacher would have felt himself under the same necessity, 
+
+
+
+646 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+the success of no oneteacher, or sect of teachers, could have been 
+very great. The interested and active zeal of religi ous teachers can 
+be dangerous and troublesome only where there is either but one 
+sect tolerated in thesociety or where the wholeof a large society is 
+divided into two or three great sects; theteachers of each acting by 
+concert, and under a regular discipline and subordination. But 
+that zeal must be altogether innocent, where thesociety isdivided 
+into two or three hundred, or, perhaps, into as many thousand 
+small sects, of which no one could be considerable enough to dis- 
+turb the public tranquillity. T heteachersof each sect, seeingthem- 
+selves surrounded on all sides with more adversaries than friends, 
+would beobliged to learn that candour and moderation which are 
+so seldom to be found among the teachers of those great sects, 
+whose tenets, being supported by the civil magistrate, are held in 
+veneration by almost all the inhabitants of extensive kingdoms 
+and empires, and who, therefore, see nothing round them but 
+followers, disciples, and humble admirers. The teachers of each 
+little sect, finding themselves almost alone, would be obliged to 
+respect those of almost every other sect; and theconcessionswhich 
+they would mutually find in both convenient and agreeable to 
+makeoneto another, might in time, probably reduce thedoctrine 
+of the greater part of them to that pure and rational religion, free 
+from every mixture of absurdity, imposture, or fanaticism, such as 
+
+
+
+wise men have, in all ages of the world, wished to see established; 
+but such as positive law has, perhaps, never yet established, and 
+probably never will establish in any country; because, with regard 
+to religion, positivelaw always has been, and probably always will 
+be, more or less influenced by popular superstition and enthusi- 
+asm. This plan of ecclesiastical government, or, more properly, of 
+no ecclesiastical government, was what the sect called Indepen- 
+dents (a sect, no doubt, of very wild enthusiasts), proposed to 
+establish in England towards the end of the civil war. If it had 
+been established, though of a very unphilosophical origin, it would 
+probably, by this time, have been productive of the most philo- 
+sophical good temper and moderation with regard to every sort of 
+religious principle. It hasbeen established in Pennsylvania, where, 
+though the quakers happen to be the most numerous, the law, in 
+reality, favours no one sect more than another; and it is there said 
+to have been productive of this philosophical good temper and 
+moderation, 
+
+But though this equality of treatment should not be productive 
+of this good temper and moderation in all, or even in the greater 
+part of the religious sects of a particular country; yet, provided 
+those sects were sufficiently numerous, and each of them conse- 
+quently too small to disturb the public tranquillity, the excessive 
+zeal of each for its particular tenets could not well be productive 
+
+
+
+647 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+of any very hurtful effects, but, on the contrary, of several good 
+ones; and if the government was perfectly decided, both to let 
+them all alone, and to oblige them all to let alone one another, 
+there is little danger that they would not of their own accord, 
+subdivide them selves fast enough, so as soon to becomesufficiently 
+numerous. 
+
+In every civilized society, in every society where the distinction 
+of ranks has once been completely established, there have been 
+always two different schemes or systemsof morality current at the 
+sametime; of which theone may be called the strict or austere; the 
+other the liberal, or, if you will, the loose system. The former is 
+generally admired and revered by thecommon people; the latter is 
+commonly more esteemed and adopted by what are called the 
+people of fashion. The degree of disapprobation with which we 
+ought to mark the vices of levity, the vices which are apt to arise 
+from great prosperity, and from the excess of gaiety and good 
+humour, seemsto constitute theprinci pal distinction between those 
+two opposite schemes or systems. In the liberal or loose system, 
+luxury, wanton, and even disorderly mirth, thepursuit of pleasure 
+to some degree of intemperance, the breach of chastity, at least in 
+oneof the two sexes, etc. provided they are not accompanied with 
+gross indecency, and do not lead to falsehood and injustice, are 
+generally treated with a good deal of indulgence, and are easily 
+
+
+
+either excused or pardoned altogether. In the austere system, on 
+the contrary, those excesses are regarded with the utmost abhor- 
+renceand detestation. Thevices of levity are always ruinousto the 
+common people, and a singleweek's thoughtlessness and dissipa- 
+tion is often sufficient to undo a poor workman for ever, and to 
+drivehim, through despair, upon committing the most enormous 
+crimes. T he wiser and better sort of the common people, there- 
+fore, have always the utmost abhorrence and detestation of such 
+excesses, which their experience tellsthem are so immediately fa- 
+tal to peopleof their condition. Thedisorder and extravagance of 
+several years, on the contrary, will not always ruin a man of fash- 
+ion; and peopleof that rank are very apt to consider the power of 
+indulging in some degree of excess, as one of the advantages of 
+their fortune; and the liberty of doing so without censure or re- 
+proach, as one of the privileges which bdong to thar station. In 
+people of thar own station, therefore, they regard such excesses 
+with but a small degree of disapprobation, and censure them a- 
+ther very slightly or not at all. 
+
+Almost all rdigioussectshave begun among thecommon people, 
+from whom they have generally drawn thar earliest, as wdl as 
+thar most numerous prosdytes. The austere system of morality 
+has, accordingly, been adopted by those sects almost constantly, 
+or with very few exceptions; for there have been some. It was the 
+
+
+
+648 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+system by which they could best recommend themselves to that 
+order of people, to whom they first proposed their plan of refor- 
+mation upon what had been before established. M any of them, 
+perhaps the greater part of them, have even endeavoured to gain 
+credit by refining upon this austere system, and by carrying it to 
+some degree of folly and extravagance; and this excessive rigour 
+has frequently recommended them, more than any thing else, to 
+the respect and veneration of the common people. 
+
+A man of rank and fortune is, by his station, the distinguished 
+member of a great society, who attend to every part of his con- 
+duct, and who thereby oblige him to attend to every part of it 
+himself. H is authority and consideration depend very much upon 
+the respect which this society bears to him. H e dares not do any- 
+thing which would disgraceor discredit him in it; and heisobliged 
+to a very strict observation of that species of morals, whether lib- 
+eral or austere, which the general consent of thissociety prescribes 
+to persons of his rank and fortune. A man of low condition, on 
+the contrary, is far from being a distinguished member of any 
+great society. W hile he remains in a country village, his conduct 
+may be attended to, and hemay be obliged to attend to it himself. 
+In this situation, and in this situation only, hemay have what is 
+called a character to lose. But as soon as he comes into a great city, 
+heissunk in obscurity and darkness. Hisconductisobservedand 
+
+
+
+attended to by nobody; and he is, therefore, very likely to neglect 
+it himself, and to abandon himself to every sort of low profligacy 
+and vice. H e never emerges so effectually from this obscurity, his 
+conduct never excites so much the attention of any respectable 
+society, as by his becoming the member of a small religious sect. 
+H efrom that moment acquires a degree of consideration which 
+he never had before. All his brother sectaries are, for the credit of 
+the sect, interested to observe his conduct; and, if he gives occa- 
+sion to any scandal, if he deviates very much from those austere 
+morals which they almost always require of one another, to pun- 
+ish him by what is always a very severe punishment, even where 
+no evil effects attend it, expulsion or excommunication from the 
+sect. In little religious sects, accordingly, the morals of the com- 
+mon people have been almost always remarkably regular and or- 
+derly; generally much more so than in the established church. The 
+morals of those little sects, indeed, have frequently been rather 
+disagreeably rigorous and unsocial. 
+
+There are two very easy and effectual remedies, however, by 
+whose joint operation the state might, without violence, correct 
+whatever wasunsocial or disagreeably rigorousin the moralsof all 
+the little sects into which the country wasdivided. 
+
+T he first of those remedies is the study of science and philoso- 
+phy, which thestatemight render almost universal among all people 
+
+
+
+649 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+of middling or more than middling rank and fortune; not by giv- 
+ing salaries to teachers in order to make them negligent and idle, 
+but by instituting some sort of probation, even in the higher and 
+morediffi cult sciences, to beundergoneby every person beforehe 
+was permitted to exercise any liberal profession, or beforehecould 
+be received as a candidate for any honourable office, of trust or 
+profit, if the state imposed upon this order of men the necessity of 
+learning, it would haveno occasion to giveitself any troubleabout 
+providing them with proper teachers. They would soon find bet- 
+ter teachers for themselves, than any whom the state could pro- 
+videfor them. Science is the great antidote to thepoison of enthu- 
+siasm and superstition; and where all thesuperior ranks of people 
+were secured from it, the inferior ranks could not be much ex- 
+posed to it. 
+
+The second of those remedies is the frequency and gaiety of 
+public diversions. The state, by encouraging, that is, by giving 
+entire liberty to all those who, from their own interest, would 
+attempt, without scandal or indecency, to amuse and divert the 
+people by painting, poetry, music, dancing; by all sorts of dra- 
+matic representations and exhibitions; would easily dissipate, in 
+the greater part of them, that melancholy and gloomy humour 
+which is almost always the nurse of popular superstition and en- 
+thusiasm. Public diversions have always been the objects of dread 
+
+
+
+and hatred to all the fanatical promotersofthosepopular frenzies. 
+Thegaietyand good humour which thosediversionsinspire, were 
+altogether inconsistent with that temper of mind which was fit- 
+test for their purpose, or which they could best work upon. D ra- 
+matic representations, besides, frequently exposing their artifices 
+to public ridicule, and sometimes even to public execration, were, 
+upon that account, more than all other diversions, the objects of 
+their peculiar abhorrence. 
+
+In a country where the law favoured the teachers of no one reli- 
+gion more than those of another, it would not be necessary that any 
+of them should haveany particular or immediatedependency upon 
+the sovereign or executive power; or that he should have anything 
+to do either in appointing or in dismissing them from their offices. 
+In such a situation, he would have no occasion to give himself any 
+concern about them, further than to keep the peace among them, 
+in the same manner as among the rest of his subjects, that is, to 
+hinder them from persecuting, abusing, or oppressing oneanother. 
+But it isquiteotherwisein countries where thereisan established or 
+governing religion. The sovereign can in this case never be secure, 
+unless he has the means of influencing in a considerable degree the 
+greater part of the teachers of that religion. 
+
+The clergy of every established church constitute a great incor- 
+poration. They can act in concert, and pursue their interest upon 
+
+
+
+650 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+one plan, and with one spirit as much as if they were under the 
+direction of one man; and they are frequently, too, under such 
+direction. Their interest as an incorporated bodyisneverthesame 
+with that of the sovereign, and is sometimes directly opposite to 
+it. T heir great interest isto maintain their authority with thepeople, 
+and this authority depends upon the supposed certainty and im- 
+portance of the whole doctrine which they inculcate, and upon 
+the supposed necessity of adopting every part of it with the most 
+implicit faith, in order to avoid eternal misery. Should the sover- 
+eign have the imprudence to appear either to deride, or doubt 
+himself of themost trifling part of theirdoctrine, or from human- 
+ity, attempt to protect those who did either the one or the other, 
+the punctilious honour of a clergy, who have no sort of depen- 
+dency upon him, is immediately provoked to proscribe him as a 
+profane person, and to employ all the terrors of religion, in order 
+to oblige the people to transfer their allegiance to some more or- 
+thodox and obedient prince. Should he oppose any of their pre- 
+tensions or usurpations, the danger is equally great. T he princes 
+who have dared in this manner to rebel against the church, over 
+and above this crime of rebellion, have generally been charged, 
+too, with the additional crime of heresy, notwithstanding their 
+solemn protestationsoftheirfaith, and humblesubmission to every 
+tenet which she thought proper to prescribe to them. But the au- 
+
+
+
+thority of religion is superior to every other authority. The fears 
+which it suggests conquer all other fears. When the authorized 
+teachers of religion propagate through thegreat body of thepeople, 
+doctrines subversive of the authority of the sovereign, it is by vio- 
+lence only, or by the force of a standing army, that he can main- 
+tain his authority. Even a standing army cannot in this case give 
+him any lasting security; because if the soldiers are not foreigners, 
+which can seldom be the case, but drawn from thegreat body of 
+thepeople, which must almost always be the case, they are likely 
+to be soon corrupted by those very doctrines.Therevolutionswhich 
+the turbulence of the Greek clergy was continually occasioning at 
+Constantinople, as long as the eastern empire subsisted; thecon- 
+vulsionswhich, during the course of several centuries, theturbu- 
+lence of the Roman clergy was continually occasioning in every 
+part of Europe, sufficiently demonstrate how precariousand inse- 
+cure must always be the situation of the sovereign, who has no 
+proper meansof influencingtheclergy of theestablished and gov- 
+erning religion of his country. 
+
+Articles of faith, as well as all other spiritual matters, it is evi- 
+dent enough, are not within the proper department of a temporal 
+sovereign, who, though he may be very well qualified for protect- 
+ing, is seldom supposed to be so for instructing thepeople. With 
+regard to such matters, therefore, his authority can seldom besuf- 
+
+
+
+651 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+ficient to counterbalance the united authority of the clergy of the 
+established church. The public tranquillity however, and hisown 
+security may frequently depend upon the doctrines which they 
+may think proper to propagate concerning such matters. As he 
+can seldom directly op pose their decision, therefore, with proper 
+weight and authority, it is necessary that he should be able to in- 
+fluence it; and he can influence it only by the fears and expecta- 
+tions which he may excite in the greater part of the individuals of 
+the order. Those fears and expectations may consist in thefearof 
+deprivation or other punishment, and in the expectation of fur- 
+ther preferment. 
+
+In all Christian churches, thebenefices of the clergy area sort of 
+freeholds, which they enjoy, not during pleasure, but during life 
+or good behaviour. Iftheyheldthembyamoreprecarioustenure, 
+and were liable to be turned out upon every slight disobligation 
+either of the sovereign or of his ministers, it would perhaps be 
+impossible for them to maintain their authority with the people, 
+who would then consider them as mercenary dependents upon 
+the court, in the sincerity of whose instructions they could no 
+longer have any confidence. But should the sovereign attempt ir- 
+regularly, and by violence, to deprive any number of clergymen of 
+their freeholds, on account, perhaps, of their having propagated, 
+with more than ordinary zeal, somefactiousorseditiousdoctrine, 
+
+
+
+he would only render, by such persecution, both them and their 
+doctrine ten times more popular, and therefore ten times more 
+troublesome and dangerous, than they had been before. Fearisin 
+almost all cases a wretched instrument of government, and ought 
+in particular never to be em ployed against any order of men who 
+have the smallest pretensions to independency. To attempt to ter- 
+rify them, servesonly to irritatetheir bad humour, and to confirm 
+them in an opposition, which more gentle usage, perhaps, might 
+easily induce them either to soften, or to lay aside altogether. T he 
+violence which the French government usually employed in order 
+to oblige all their parliaments, or sovereign courts of justice, to 
+en register any unpopular edict, very seldom succeed ed.Themeans 
+commonly employed, however, the imprisonment of all the re- 
+fractory members, one would think, were forcible enough. The 
+princesof the houseof Stuart sometimes employed the like means 
+in order to influence some of the members of the parliament of 
+England, and they generally found them equally intractable. The 
+parliament of England is now managed in another manner; and a 
+very small experiment, which the duke of Choiseul made, about 
+twelve years ago, upon the parliament of Paris, demonstrated suf- 
+ficiently that all the parliaments of France might have been man- 
+aged still more easily in the same manner. That experiment was 
+not pursued. For though management and persuasion are always 
+
+
+
+652 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+the easi est and safest instrumentsof government asforce and vio- 
+lence are the worst and the most dangerous; yet such, it seems, is 
+the natural insolence of man, that he almost always disdains to 
+use the good instrument, except when he cannot or dare not use 
+the bad one. The French government could and durst use force, 
+and therefore disdained to use management and persuasion. But 
+there is no order of men, it appears I believe, from the experience 
+of all ages, upon whom it is so dangerous or rather so perfectly 
+ruinous, to employ force and violence, as upon the respected clergy 
+of an established church. The rights, the privileges, the personal 
+liberty of every individual ecclesiastic, who is upon good terms 
+with his own order, are, even in the most despotic governments, 
+more respected than those of any other person of nearly equal 
+rank and fortune. It is so in every gradation of despotism, from 
+that of the gentle and mild government of Paris, to that of the 
+violent and furious government of Constantinople. But though 
+thisorder of men can scarceever be forced, they may be managed 
+as easily as any other; and the security of the sovereign, as well as 
+thepublic tranquillity, seemsto depend very much upon themeans 
+which he has of managing them; and those means seem to consist 
+altogether in the preferment which he has to bestow upon them. 
+I n the ancient constitution of the C hristian church, the bishop 
+of each diocese was elected by the joint votes of the clergy and of 
+
+
+
+the people of the episcopal city. The people did not long retain 
+their right of election; and while they did retain it, they almost 
+always acted under theinfluence of thedergy, who, in such spiri- 
+tual matters, appeared to be their natural guides. Thedergy, how- 
+ever, soon grew weary of thetroubleof managing them, and found 
+it easier to elect their own bishops themselves. The abbot, in the 
+same manner, wasdected by the monksof the monastery, at least 
+in the greater part of abbacies. All the inferior ecclesiastical ben- 
+efices comprehended within thediocese were collated bythebishop, 
+who bestowed them upon such ecclesiastics as hethought proper. 
+All church preferments were in thismannerin thedisposal of the 
+church. Thesoverdgn, though he might have some indirect influ- 
+ence in those elections, and though it was sometimes usual to ask 
+both his consent to dect, and his approbation of the election, yet 
+had no direct or sufficient means of managing the clergy. The 
+ambition of every clergyman naturally led him to pay court, not 
+so much to hissoverdgn as to his own order, from which only he 
+could expect preferment. 
+
+T hrough the greater part of Europe, the pope gradually drew to 
+himsdf, first thecollation of almost all bishoprics and abbacies, or 
+of what were called consistorial benefices, and afterwards, by vari- 
+ous machinations and pretences, of the greater part of inferior 
+bendices comprehended within each diocese, little more bang 
+
+
+
+653 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+left to the bishop than what was barely necessary to give him a 
+decent authority with his own clergy. By this arrangement the 
+condition of the sovereign was still worse than it had been before. 
+T heel ergy of all thedifferent countries of Europe were thusformed 
+into a sort of spiritual army dispersed in different quarters in- 
+deed, but of which all the movements and operations could now 
+be directed by one head, and conducted upon one uniform plan. 
+The clergy of each particular country might be considered as a 
+particular detachment of that army, of which theoperationscould 
+easily be supported and seconded by all the other detachments 
+quartered in the different countries round about. Each detach- 
+ment was not only independent of the sovereign of the country in 
+which it was quartered, and by which it was maintained, but de- 
+pendent upon a foreign sovereign, who could atanytimeturn its 
+arms again st the sovereign of that particular country, and support 
+them by the arms of all the other detachments. 
+
+Those arms were the most formidable that can well be imag- 
+ined. I n the ancient state of Europe, before the establishment of 
+arts and manufactures, the wealth of the clergy gave them the 
+samesort of influence over the common peoplewhichthatofthe 
+great barons gave them over their respective vassals, tenants, and 
+retainers. In the great landed estates, which the mistaken piety 
+both of princes and private persons had bestowed upon thechurch, 
+
+
+
+jurisdictions were established, of the same kind with those of the 
+great barons, and for the same reason. In those great landed es- 
+tates, the clergy, or their bailiffs, could easily keep thepeace, with- 
+out the support or assistance either of the king or of any other 
+person; and neither the king nor any other person could keep the 
+peace there without the support and assistance of the clergy. T he 
+jurisdictionsof theel ergy, therefore, in their particular baroniesor 
+manors, were equally independent, and equally exclusive of the 
+authority of the king'scourts, as those of the great temporal lords. 
+The tenants of the clergy were, like those of the great barons, al- 
+most all tenants at will, entirely dependent upon their immediate 
+lords, and, therefore, liableto be called out at pleasure, in order to 
+fight in any quarrel in which the clergy might think proper to 
+en gage them. Over and above the rents of those estates, thedergy 
+possessed in the tithes a very large portion of the rents of all the 
+other estates in every kingdom of Europe. The revenues arising 
+from both those species of rents were, the greater part of them, 
+paid in kind, in corn, wine, cattle, poultry, etc. The quantity ex- 
+ceeded greatly what the clergy could themselves consume; and 
+there were neither arts nor manufactures, for the produce of which 
+they could exchange the surplus. The clergy could derive advan- 
+tage from this immense surplus in no other way than by employ- 
+ing it, as the great barons employed the like surplus of their rev- 
+
+
+
+654 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+enues, in the most profuse hospitality, and in the most extensive 
+charity. Both the hospitality and the charity of the ancient clergy, 
+accordingly, are said to have been very great. They not only main- 
+tained almost thewholepoor of every kingdom, but manyknights 
+and gentlemen had frequently no other meansof subsistence than 
+by travel ling about from monastery to monastery, under pretence 
+of devotion, but in reality to enjoy the hospitality of the clergy. 
+T he retainers of some particular prelates were often as numerous 
+as those of the greatest lay-lords; and the retainers of all the clergy 
+taken together were, perhaps, more numerous than those of all 
+thelay-lords.Therewasalwaysmuch moreunion among thedergy 
+than among the lay-lords. T he former were under a regular disci- 
+pline and subordination to the papal authority. The latter were 
+under no regular discipline or subordination, but almost always 
+equally jealous of one another, and of the king. Though the ten- 
+ants and retainers of thedergy, therefore, had both together been 
+less numerous than those of the great lay-lords, and thar tenants 
+were probably much less numerous, yet thar union would have 
+rendered them more formidable. The hospitality and charity of 
+the clergy, too, not only gave them the command of a great tem- 
+poral force, but increased very much the weight of their spiritual 
+weapons. Those virtues procured them the highest respect and 
+veneration among all the inferior ranks of people, of whom many 
+
+
+
+were constantly, and almost all occasionally, fed by them. Every- 
+thing bdonging or rdated to so popular an order, its possessions, 
+its privileges, itsdoctrines, necessarily appeared sacred in theeyes 
+of the common people; and every violation of them, whether real 
+or pretended, the highest act of sacrilegious wickedness and pro- 
+faneness. In this state of things, if the sovereign frequently found 
+it difficult to resist the confederacy of a few of the great nobility, 
+wecannot wonder that heshould find it still more so to resist the 
+united force of the clergy of his own dominions, supported by 
+that of the clergy of all the neighbouring dominions. In such cir- 
+cumstances, the wonder is, not that he was sometimes obliged to 
+yidd, but that he ever was able to resist. 
+
+The privileges of the clergy in those ancienttimes(which to us, 
+who live in the present times, appear the most absurd), thar total 
+exemption from the secular jurisdiction, for example, or what in 
+England was called thebenefit of clergy, were the natural, or rather 
+the necessary, consequences of this state of things. How danger- 
+ous must it have been for the soverdgn to attempt to punish a 
+clergyman for any crime whatever, if his order were disposed to 
+protect him, and to represent ather the proof as insufficient for 
+convicting so holy a man, or the punishment as too severe to be 
+inflicted upon one whose person had been rendered sacred byre- 
+ligion?T he soverdgn could, in such circumstances, do no better 
+
+
+
+655 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+than leavehimtobetried by the ecclesiastical courts, who, for the 
+honour of their own order, were interested to restrain, as much as 
+possible, every member of it from committing enormous crimes, 
+or even from giving occasion to such gross scandal as might dis- 
+gust the minds of the people. 
+
+In the state in which things were, through the greater part of 
+Europe, during thetenth, eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth centu- 
+ries, and for sometime both before and after that period, thecon- 
+stitution of the church of Rome may be considered as the most 
+formidablecombination that ever was formed against theauthor- 
+ityand security of civil government, as well as against the liberty, 
+reason, and happiness of mankind, which can flourish only where 
+civil government is able to protect them. In that constitution, the 
+grossest delusions of superstition were supported in such a man- 
+ner by the private interests of so great a number of people, as put 
+them out of all danger from any assault of human reason; because, 
+though human reason might, perhaps, have been ableto unveil, 
+even to the eyes of the common people, some of the delusions of 
+superstition, it could never have dissolved theties of privateinter- 
+est. H ad this constitution been attacked by no other enemies but 
+the feeble efforts of human reason, it must have endured for ever. 
+But that immense and well-built fabric, which all the wisdom and 
+virtueof man could never have shaken, much I ess have overturned, 
+
+
+
+was, by the natural course of things, first weakened, and after- 
+wards in part destroyed; and is now likely, in the course of a few 
+centuries more, perhaps, to crumble into ruins altogether. 
+
+Thegradual improvements of arts, manufactures, and commerce, 
+the same causes which destroyed the power of the great barons, 
+destroyed, in the same manner, through the greater part of Eu- 
+rope, thewholetemporal manufactures, and commerce, theclergy, 
+like the great barons, found something for which they could ex- 
+change their rude produce, and thereby discovered the means of 
+spending their whole revenues upon their own persons, without 
+giving any considerable share of them to other people. T heir char- 
+ity becamegradually less extensive, their hospitality less liberal, or 
+less profuse. T heir retainers became consequently less numerous, 
+and, by degrees, dwindled away altogether. Theclergy, too, like 
+the great barons, wished to get a better rent from their landed 
+estates, in order to spend it, in thesame manner, upon the gratifi- 
+cation of their own private vanity and folly. But this increase of 
+rent could be got only by granting leases to their tenants, who 
+thereby became, in a great measure, independent of them. The 
+ties of interest, which bound the inferior ranks of people to the 
+clergy, were in this manner gradually broken and dissolved. They 
+were even broken and dissolved sooner than those which bound 
+thesameran ks of peopleto thegreat barons; because thebenefices 
+
+
+
+656 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+of the church being, the greater part of them, much smaller than 
+the estates of the great barons, the possessor of each benefice was 
+much sooner ableto spend thewholeof its revenueupon hisown 
+person. D uring the greater part of the fourteenth and fifteenth 
+centuries, the power of the great barons was, through the greater 
+part of Europe, in full vigour. Butthetemporal power of the clergy, 
+the absolute command which they had once had over the great 
+body of the people was very much decayed. The power of the 
+church was, by that time, very nearly reduced, through thegreater 
+part of Europe, to what arose from their spiritual authority; and 
+even that spiritual authority was much weakened, when it ceased 
+to be supported by the charity and hospitality of the clergy. T he 
+inferior ranks of people no longer looked upon that order as they 
+had donebefore; as the comforters of their distress, and thereliev- 
+ers of their indigence. n the contrary, they were provoked and 
+disgusted by the vanity, luxury, and expense of the richer clergy, 
+who appeared to spend upon their own pleasures what had always 
+before been regarded as the patrimony of the poor. 
+
+In this situation of things, the sovereigns in the different states 
+of Europe endeavoured to recover the influence which they had 
+once had in the disposal of the great benefices of the church; by 
+procuring to the deans and chapters of each diocese the restora- 
+tion of their ancient right of electing the bishop; and to the monks 
+
+
+
+of each abbacy that of electing the abbot. T he re-establishing this 
+ancient order was theobject of several statutes enacted in England 
+during the course of the fourteenth century, particularly of what 
+is called the statute of provisors; and of the pragmatic sanction, 
+established in France in the fifteenth century. In order to render 
+the election valid, it was necessary that the sovereign should both 
+consent to it before hand, and afterwards approve of the person 
+elected; and though the election was still supposed to be free, he 
+had, however all the indirect means which his situation necessar- 
+ily afforded him, of influencing the clergy in hisown dominions. 
+Other regulations, of a similar tendency, were established in other 
+parts of Europe. But the power of the pope, in the collation of the 
+great benefices of the church, seems, before the reformation, to 
+have been nowhere so effectually and so universally restrained as 
+in France and England. Theconcordat afterwards, in thesixteenth 
+century, gaveto the kings of France the absolute right of present- 
+ing to all thegreat, or what are called theconsistorial, beneficesof 
+theGallican church. 
+
+Since the establishment of the pragmatic sanction and of the 
+concordat, the clergy of France have in general shewn less respect 
+to the decrees of the papal court, than the clergy of any other 
+catholic country. In all the disputes which their sovereign has had 
+with the pope, they have almost constantly taken part with the 
+
+
+
+657 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+former. T his independency of the clergy of France upon thecourt 
+of Romeseemstobeprincipallyfoundeduponthepragmaticsanc- 
+tion and the concordat. Intheearlierperiodsofthemonarchy the 
+clergy of France appear to have been as much devoted to the pope 
+asthoseof any other country. When Robert, the second princeof 
+theCapetian race, wasmost unjustly excommunicated by thecourt 
+of Rome, his own servants, it is said, threw the victuals which 
+came from his table to the dogs, and refused to taste any thing 
+themselves which had been polluted by the contact of a person in 
+his situation. They were taught to do so, it may very safely be 
+presumed, by the clergy of his own dominions. 
+
+The claim of collating to the great benefices of the church, a 
+claim in defenceof which thecourt of Rom eh ad frequently shaken, 
+and sometimes overturned, the thrones of some of the greatest 
+sovereigns in Christendom, was in this manner either restrained 
+or modified, or given up altogether, in many different parts of 
+Europe, even before the time of the reformation. As the clergy had 
+now lessinfluenceoverthepeople, sothestatehad moreinfluence 
+overtheclergy.Thedergy, therefore, had both less power, and less 
+inclination, to disturb the state. 
+
+Theauthorityofthechurch of Romewasin misstate of declen- 
+sion, when the disputes which gave birth to the reformation be- 
+gan in Germany, and soon spread themsdves through every part 
+
+
+
+of Europe. The new doctrines were everywhere recdved with a 
+high degree of popular favour. They were propagated with all that 
+enthusiastic zeal which commonly animates the spirit of party, 
+when it attacks established authority. T he teachers of those doc- 
+trines, though perhaps, in other respects not more learned than 
+many of thedivineswhodef ended the established church, seem in 
+general to have been better acquainted with ecclesiastical history, 
+and with the origin and progress of that system of opinions upon 
+which the authority of the church was established; and they had 
+thereby the advantage in almost every dispute. The austerity of 
+thdr manners gave them authority with thecommon people, who 
+contrasted the strict regularity of their conduct with the disor- 
+derly lives of the greater part of thdr own clergy. T hey possessed, 
+too, in a much higher degree than thdr adversaries, all the arts of 
+popularity and of gaining prosdytes; arts which thelofty and dig- 
+nified sons of the church had long neglected, as bang to them in 
+a great measure usdess. The reason of the new doctrines recom- 
+mended them to some, thdr novdty to many; the hatred and con- 
+tempt of the established clergy to a still greater number: but the 
+zealous, passionate, and fanatical, though frequently coarse and 
+rustic doquence, with which they were almost everywhere incul- 
+cated, recommended them to by far the greatest number. 
+T hesuccessof thenew doctrineswas almost everywhereso great, 
+
+
+
+658 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+that the princes, who at that time happened to be on bad terms 
+with the court of Rome, were, by means of them, easily enabled, 
+in their own dominions, to overturn the church, which having 
+lost the respect and veneration of the inferior ranks of people, 
+could makescarce any resistance. Thecourt of Romehad disobliged 
+some of the smaller princes in the northern parts of Germany, 
+whom it had probably considered as too insignificant to beworth 
+the managing. They universally, therefore, established the refor- 
+mation in their own dominions. The tyranny of Christiern II., 
+and of Troll archbishop of Upsal, enabled GustavusVasato expel 
+them both from Sweden. The pope favoured the tyrant and the 
+archbishop, and GustavusVasa found no difficulty in establishing 
+the reformation in Sweden. Christiern II. was afterwards deposed 
+from the throne of Denmark, where his conduct had rendered 
+him asodiousasin Sweden. The pope, however, was still disposed 
+to favour him; and Frederic of H olstein, who had mounted the 
+thronein hisstead, revenged himself, by following theexampleof 
+GustavusVasa. The magistrates of Berneand Zurich, who had no 
+particular quarrel with the pope, established with great ease the 
+reformation in their respective cantons, wherejust before someof 
+the clergy had, by an imposture somewhat grosser than ordinary, 
+rendered thewholeorder both odiousand contemptible. 
+In thiscritical situation of its affairs the papal court was at suf- 
+
+
+
+ficient painsto cultivate thefriendship of thepowerful sovereigns 
+of France and Spain, of whom the latter was at that time emperor 
+of Germany. With their assistance, it was enabled, though not 
+without great difficulty, and much bloodshed, either to suppress 
+altogether, or to obstruct very much, the progress of the reforma- 
+tion in their dominions. It was well enough inclined, too, to be 
+complaisant to the king of England. But from the circumstances 
+of the times, it could not be so without giving offence to a still 
+greater sovereign, Charles V., king of Spain and emperor of Ger- 
+many. Henry VI 1 1., accordingly, though he did not embrace him- 
+self the greater part of the doctrines of the reformation, was yet 
+enabled, by their general prevalence, to suppress all the monaster- 
+ies, and to abolish the authority of the church of Rome in his 
+dominions That he should go so far, though he went no further, 
+gave some satisfaction to the patrons of the reformation, who, 
+having got possession of the government in the reign of his son 
+and successor completed, without any difficulty, the work which 
+Henry VII I. had begun. 
+
+In some countries, as in Scotland, where the government was 
+weak, unpopular, and not very firmly establish ed, the reformation 
+was strong enough to overturn, not only thechurch, butthestate 
+likewise, for attempting to support thechurch. 
+
+Among the followers of the reformation, dispersed in all the 
+
+
+
+659 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+different countriesof Europe, there was no general tribunal, which, 
+likethatof thecourtof Rome, or an oecumenical council, could 
+settle all disputes among them, and, with irresistible authority, 
+prescribe to all of them the precise limitsof orthodoxy. When the 
+followers of the reformation in one country, therefore, happened 
+to differ from their brethren in another, as they had no common 
+judge to appeal to, the dispute could never be decided; and many 
+such disputes arose among them. T hose concerning the govern- 
+ment of the church, and the right of conferring ecclesiastical ben- 
+efices, were perhaps the most interesting to the peace and welfare 
+of civil society. They gave birth, accordingly, tothetwo principal 
+parties or sects among the followers of the reformation, the 
+Lutheran and Calvinistic sects, theonly sects among them, of which 
+the doctrine and discipline have ever yet been established bylaw 
+in any part of Europe. 
+
+Thefollowers of Luther, together with what iscalled thechurch 
+of England, preserved more or less of the episcopal government, 
+established subordination among the clergy, gave the sovereign 
+the disposal of all the bishoprics, and other consistorial benefices 
+within his dominions, and thereby rendered him the real head of 
+the church; and without depriving the bishop of the right of col- 
+lating to the smaller benefices within his diocese, they, even to 
+those benefices, not only admitted, but favoured the right of pre- 
+
+
+
+sentation, both in the sovereign and in all other lay patrons. This 
+system of church government was, from the beginning, favourable 
+to peace and good order, and to submission to thecivil sovereign. 
+It has never, accordingly, been the occasion of any tumult or civil 
+commotion in any country in which it has once been established. 
+Thechurch of England, in particular, has always valued herself, 
+with great reason, upon the unexceptionable loyalty of her prin- 
+ciples. Under such a government, the clergy naturally endeavour 
+to recommend themselves to the sovereign, to the court, and to 
+the nobility and gentry of the country, by whose influence they 
+chiefly expect to obtain preferment. T hey pay court to those pa- 
+trons, sometimes, no doubt, by the vilest flattery and assentation; 
+but frequently, too, by cultivating all those arts which best de- 
+serve, and which are therefore most likely to gain them, the es- 
+teem of people of rank and fortune; by their knowledge in all the 
+different branches of useful and ornamental learning, by the de- 
+cent liberality of their manners, by the social good humour of 
+their conversation, and bytheiravowed contempt of those absurd 
+and hypocritical austerities which fanatics inculcate and pretend 
+to practise, in order to draw upon themselves the veneration, and 
+upon the greater part of men of rank and fortune, who avow that 
+they do not practise them, theabhorrence of thecommon people. 
+Such a clergy, however, whilethey pay their court in this manner 
+
+
+
+660 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+to the higher ranks of life, are very apt to neglect altogether the 
+meansof maintaining their influence and authori ty with thelower. 
+They are listened to, esteemed, and respected by their superiors; 
+but before their inferiors they are frequently incapableof defend- 
+ing, effectually, and to the conviction of such hearers, their own 
+sober and moderate doctrines, against the most ignorant enthusi- 
+ast who chooses to attack them. 
+
+Thefollowersof Zuinglius, or more properly thoseof Calvin, on 
+the contrary, bestowed upon the people of each parish, whenever 
+the church became vacant, the right of electing their own pastor; 
+and established, at the same time, the most perfect equality among 
+the clergy. Theformer part of thisinstitution, aslong asit remained 
+in vigour, seems to have been productive of nothing but disorder 
+and confusion, and to have tended equally to corrupt the morals 
+both of the clergy and of the people. The latter part seems never to 
+have had any effects but what were perfectly agreeable. 
+
+Aslong as thepeopleof each parish preserved the right of elect- 
+ing their own pastors, they acted almost always under the influ- 
+ence of the clergy, and generally of the most factiousand fanatical 
+of the order. The clergy, in order to preserve their influence in 
+those popular elections, became, or affected to become, many of 
+them, fanatics themselves, encouraged fanaticism among the 
+people, and gave the preference almost always to the most fanati- 
+
+
+
+cal candidate. So small a matter as the appointment of a parish 
+priest, occasioned almost alwaysa violent contest, not only in one 
+parish, but in all theneighbouring parisheswho seldom failed to 
+take part in the quarrel. W hen the parish happened to be situated 
+in a great city, it divided all the inhabitants into two parties; and 
+when that city happened, either to constitute itself a little repub- 
+lic, or to be the head and capital of a little republic, as in the case 
+with many of the considerable cities in Switzerland and Holland, 
+every paltry disputeof this kind, over and above exasperating the 
+animosity of all thar other factions, threatened to leave behind it, 
+both a new schism in thechurch, and a new faction in thestate. I n 
+those small republics, therefore, the magistrate very soon found it 
+necessary, for thesakeof preserving thepublic peace, to assumeto 
+himself theright of presenting to all vacant benefices I n Scotland, 
+the most extensive country in which this presbyterian form of 
+church government has ever been established, the rights of pa- 
+tronage were in effect abolished by the act which established 
+presbytery in the beginning of the reign of William 1 1 1. That act, 
+at least, put in the power of certain classes of people in each parish 
+to purchase, for a very small price, the right of electing their own 
+pastor. Theconstitution which thisact established, was allowed to 
+subsist for about two-and-twenty years, but was abolished by the 
+10th of queen Anne, ch.12, on account of the confusions and 
+
+
+
+661 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+disorders which this more popular mode of election had almost 
+everywhereoccasioned. In so extensive a country as Scotland, how- 
+ever, a tumult in a remote parish was not so likely to give distur- 
+bance to government as in a smaller state. T he 10th of queen Anne 
+restored the rights of patronage. But though, in Scotland, thelaw 
+gives the benefice, without any exception to the person presented 
+by the patron; yet the church requires sometimes (for she has not 
+in this respect been very uniform in her decisions) a certain con- 
+currence of the people, before she will confer upon the presentee 
+what iscalled thecureof souls, or theecclesiastical jurisdiction in 
+the parish. She sometimes, at least, from an affected concern for 
+the peace of the parish, delays thesettlement till this concurrence 
+can be procured. The private tampering of some of the 
+neighbouring clergy, sometimes to procure, but more frequently 
+to prevent this concurrence, and the popular arts which they cul- 
+tivate, in order to enable them upon such occasions to tamper 
+more effectually, are perhaps thecauses which principally keep up 
+whatever remainsof theold fanatical spirit, either in thedergy or 
+in the people of Scotland. 
+
+The equality which the presbyterian form of church govern- 
+ment establishes among thedergy, consists, first, in the equality 
+of authority or ecclesiastical jurisdiction; and, secondly, in the 
+equality of benefice. In all presbyterian churches, the equality of 
+
+
+
+authority is perfect; that of benefice isnot so. T hedifference, how- 
+ever, between one benefice and another, is sddom so consider- 
+able, as commonly to tempt thepossessor even of thesmall oneto 
+pay court to hispatron, by the vile arts of flattery and assentation, 
+in order to get a better. In all the presbyterian churches, where the 
+rights of patronage are thoroughly established, it is by nobler and 
+better arts, that theestablished clergy in general endeavour to gain 
+thefavour of thar superiors; by their learning, by the irreproach- 
+able regularity of thar life, and by the faithful and diligent dis- 
+charge of thar duty. Thar patrons even frequently complain of 
+the independency of their spirit, which they are apt to construe 
+into ingratitude for past favours, but which, at worse, perhaps, is 
+seldom anymore than that indifference which naturally arises from 
+theconsciousnessthatnofurtherfavoursofthekindareevertobe 
+expected. There is scarce, perhaps, to be found anywhere in Eu- 
+rope, a more learned, decent, independent, and respectable set of 
+men, than the greater part of the presbyterian clergy of H olland, 
+Geneva, Switzerland, and Scotland. 
+
+Where the church benefices are all nearly equal, none of them 
+can be very great; and this mediocrity of benefice, though it may 
+be, no doubt, carried too far, has, however, some very agreeable 
+effects. N othing but exemplary morals can give dignity to a man 
+of small fortune. T he vices of levity and vanity necessarily render 
+
+
+
+662 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+him ridiculous, and are, besides, almost as ruinousto him as they 
+are to the common people. In his own conduct, therefore, he is 
+obliged to follow that system of morals which thecommon people 
+respect the most. Hegainstheir esteem and affection, by that plan 
+of life which his own interest and situation would lead him to 
+follow. Thecommon people look upon him with that kindness 
+with which we naturally regard one who approaches somewhat to 
+our own condition, but who, we think, ought to be in a higher. 
+Theirkindnessnaturallyprovokeshiskindness. He becomes care- 
+ful to instruct them, and attentive to assist and relieve them. H e 
+doesnotevendespisetheprejudicesofpeoplewhoaredisposedto 
+be so favourable to him, and never treats them with those con- 
+temptuous and arrogant airs, which we so often meet with in the 
+proud dignitaries of opulent and well endowed churches. The 
+presbyterian clergy, accordingly, havemoreinfluenceovertheminds 
+of the common people, than perhaps the clergy of any other es- 
+tablished church. It is, accordingly, in presbyterian countries only, 
+that weever find thecommon peopleconverted, without persecu- 
+tion completely, and almost to a man, to the established church. 
+In countries wherechurch beneficesare, thegreater part of them, 
+very moderate, a chair in a university is generally a better estab- 
+lishment than a church benefice. The universities have, in this 
+case, thepicking and chusing of their members from all thechurch- 
+
+
+
+men of the country, who, in every country, constitute by far the 
+most numerous class of men of letters. W here church benefices, 
+on the contrary, are many of them very considerable, the church 
+naturally draws from the universities thegreater part of their emi- 
+nent men of letters; who generally find some patron, who does 
+himself honour by procuring them church preferment. In the 
+former situation, we are likely to find the universities filled with 
+themost eminent men of letters that are to be found in thecoun- 
+try. In the latter, we are likely to find few eminent men among 
+them, and those few among theyoungest members of the society, 
+who are likely, too, to be drained away from it, before they can 
+have acquired experience and knowledge enough to be of much 
+use to it. It is observed by M r. de Voltaire, that father Poree, a 
+Jesuit of no great eminencein therepublic of letters, wastheonly 
+professor they had ever had in France, whose works were worth 
+the reading. I n a country which has produced so many eminent 
+men of letters, it must appear somewhat singular, that scarce one 
+of them should have been a professor in a university. The famous 
+Cassendi was, in the beginning of his life, a professor in the uni- 
+versity of Aix. Upon the first dawning of his genius, it was repre- 
+sented to him, that by going into thechurch hecould easily find a 
+much more quiet and comfortable subsistence, as well as a better 
+situation for pursuing his studies; and he immediately followed 
+
+
+
+663 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+the advice. The observation of M r. de Voltaire may be applied, I 
+believe, not only to France, but to all other Roman Catholic coun- 
+tries. We very rarely find in any of them an eminent man of let- 
+ters, who is a professor in a university, except, perhaps, in the 
+professionsof law and physic; professionsfrom which thechurch 
+is not so likely to draw them. After the church of Rome, that of 
+England is by far the richest and best endowed church in 
+Christendom. In England, accordingly, thechurch is continually 
+draining the universities of all their best and ablest members; and 
+an old college tutor who is known and distinguished in Europe as 
+an eminent man of letters, isas rarely to be found there as in any 
+Roman catholic country, In Geneva, on the contrary, in theprot- 
+estant cantons of Switzerland, in theprotestant countries of Ger- 
+many, in Holland, in Scotland, in Sweden, and Denmark, the 
+most eminent men of letters whom those countries haveproduced, 
+have, not all indeed, but thefar greater part of them, been profes- 
+sors in universities. In those countries, the universities are con- 
+tinually drainingthechurch of all its most eminent men of letters. 
+Itmay, perhaps, beworth whileto remark, that, if weexceptthe 
+poets, a few orators, and a few historians, thefar greater part of 
+the other eminent men of letters, both of Greece and Rome, ap- 
+pear to have been either public or private teachers; generally either 
+of philosophy or of rhetoric. This remark will be found to hold 
+
+
+
+true, from the days of Lysiasand Isocrates, of Plato and Aristotle, 
+down to those of Plutarch and Epictetus, Suetonius, and 
+Q uintilian. To impose upon any man the necessity of teaching, 
+year after year, in any particular branch of science seems in reality 
+to be the most effectual method for rendering him completely 
+master of it himself. By being obliged to go every year over the 
+same ground, if he is good for any thing, he necessarily becomes, 
+in a few years, well acquainted with every part of it, and if, upon 
+any particular point, he should form too hasty an opinion one 
+year, when hecomes, in thecourse of hislectures to reconsider the 
+same subject the year thereafter, he is very likely to correct it. Asto 
+be a teacher of science is certainly the natural employment of a 
+mere man of letters; so is it likewise, perhaps, theeducation which 
+is most likely to render him a man of solid learning and knowl- 
+edge. The mediocrity of church benefices naturally tends to draw 
+the greater part of men of letters in the country where it takes 
+place, to the employment in which they can be the most useful to 
+thepublic, and at the same time to give them the best education, 
+perhaps, they arecapableof receiving. Ittendsto render their learn- 
+ing both as sol id as possible, and as useful as possible. 
+
+T he revenueof every established church, such partsof it excepted 
+as may arise from particular lands or manors, is a branch, it ought 
+to be observed, of the general revenue of the state, which is thus 
+
+
+
+664 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+diverted to a purpose very different from the defence of the state. 
+The tithe, for example, is a real land tax, which puts it out of the 
+power of the proprietors of land to contributes) largely towardsthe 
+defence of the state as they otherwise might be able to do. The rent 
+of land, however, is, according to some, thesolefund; and, accord- 
+ing to others, the principal fund, from which, in all great monar- 
+chies, the exigencies of the state must be ultimately supplied. T he 
+more of this fund that is given to the church, the less, it is evident, 
+can be spared to the state. Itmay belaid down asacertain maxim, 
+that all other things being supposed equal, the richer the church, 
+thepoorer must necessarily be, either thesovereign on theonehand, 
+or the people on the other; and, in all cases, the less able must the 
+state be to defend itself. In several protestant countries, particularly 
+in all the protestant cantons of Switzerland, the revenue which an- 
+ciently belonged to the Roman catholic church, thetithesand church 
+lands, has been found a fund sufficient, not only to afford compe- 
+tent salaries to theestablished clergy, but to defray, with littleorno 
+addition, all the other expenses of the state. The magistrates of the 
+powerful canton of Berne, in particular, have accumulated, out of 
+th e savi n gs f rom th i s f u n d , a very I arge su m , su pposed to am ou n t to 
+several millions; part or which isdeposited in a public treasure, and 
+part is placed at interest in what are called the public funds of the 
+different indebted nations of Europe; chiefly in those of France and 
+
+
+
+Great Britain. W hat may be theamount of thewholeexpensewhich 
+thechurch, either of Berne, or of any other protestant canton, costs 
+the state, I do not pretend to know. By a very exact account it ap- 
+pears, that, in 1755, the whole revenue of the clergy of thechurch 
+of Scotland, including their glebe or church lands, and the rent of 
+their manses or dwelling-houses, estimated according to a reason- 
+able valuation, amounted only to £68,514:1:5 l/12d. This very 
+moderate revenue affords a decent subsistence to ninehundred and 
+fortyfour ministers. The whole expense of the church, including 
+what is occasionally laid out for the building and reparation of 
+churches, and of the manses of ministers, cannot well be supposed 
+to exceed eighty or eighty-five thousand pounds a-year. T he most 
+opulent church in Christendom does not maintain better the uni- 
+formity of faith, thefervour of devotion, thespirit of order, regular- 
+ity, and austere morals, in the great body of the people, than this 
+very poorly endowed church of Scotland. All thegood effects, both 
+civil and religious, which an established church can be supposed to 
+produce, are produced by it as completely as by any other. The 
+greater part of the protestant churches of Switzerland, which, in 
+general, are not better endowed than thechurch of Scotland, pro- 
+duce those effects in a still higher degree. In the greater part of the 
+protestant cantons, there is not a single person to be found, who 
+does not profess himself to be of theestablished church. If hepro- 
+
+
+
+665 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+fesses himself to beof any other, indeed, thelaw obligeshim to leave 
+the canton. But so severe, or, rather, indeed, so oppressive a law, 
+could never have been executed in such free countries, had not the 
+diligenceof thedergy beforehand converted to theestablished church 
+the whole body of the people, with theexception of, perhaps, afew 
+individuals only. In some parts of Switzerland, accordingly, where, 
+fromtheaccidental union of aprotestantand Roman catholic coun- 
+try, theconversion hasnot been so complete, both religions are not 
+only tolerated, but established bylaw. 
+
+T he proper performance of every service seems to require, that 
+its pay or recompence should be, as exactly as possible, propor- 
+tioned to the nature of the service. If any service is very much 
+underpaid, it is very apt to suffer by the meanness and incapacity 
+of the greater part of those who are employed in it. If it is very 
+much overpaid, it isapt to suffer, perhaps still more, by their neg- 
+ligenceand idleness. A man of a large revenue, whatever may be 
+hisprofession, thinksheoughtto livelikeother men of large rev- 
+enues; and to spend a great part of histimein festivity, in vanity, 
+and in dissipation. But in a clergyman, this train of life not only 
+consumes the time which ought to be employed in the duties of 
+his function, but in the eyes of the common people, destroys al- 
+most entirely that sanctity of character, which can alone enable 
+him to perform those duties with proper weight and authority. 
+
+
+
+PART IV 
+
+f the Expense of supporting the D ignity of the Sovereign 
+
+Over and above the expenses necessary for enabling thesovereign 
+to perform hisseveral duties, acertain expense is requisite for the 
+support of hisdignity. Thisexpen se varies, both with thedifferent 
+periods of improvement, and with the different forms of govern- 
+ment. 
+
+In an opulent and improved society, where all thedifferent or- 
+dersof peopleare growing every day moreexpen si vein their houses, 
+in their furniture, in their tables, in their dress, and in their equi- 
+page; it cannot well be expected that thesovereign should alone 
+hold out against the fashion. H e naturally, therefore, or rather 
+necessarily, becomes more expensive in all those different articles 
+too. His dignity even seems to require that he should become so. 
+
+As, in point of dignity, amonarch ismore raised abovehissub- 
+jects than the chief magistrate of any republic is ever supposed to 
+be above his fellow-citizens; so a greater expense is necessary for 
+supporting that higher dignity. Wenaturally expect more splendour 
+in the court of a king, than in the mansion-house of a doge or 
+burgo- master. 
+
+
+
+666 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+CONCLUSION 
+
+The expense of defending the society, and that of supporting the 
+dignity of the chief magistrate, are both laid out for the general 
+benefit of the whole society. It is reasonable, therefore, that they 
+should bedefrayed bythegeneral contribution of the whole soci- 
+ety; all the different members contributing, as nearly as possible, 
+in proportion to their respective abilities. 
+
+Theexpenseoftheadministration of justice, too, may no doubt 
+be considered aslaid outforthebenefit of thewholesociety There 
+is no impropriety, therefore, in its being defrayed by the general 
+contribution of thewholesociety.Thepersons, however, whogive 
+occasion to this expense, are those who, by their injustice in one 
+way or another, make it necessary to seek redress or protection 
+from the courts of justice. The persons, again, most immediately 
+benefited by this expense, are those whom the courts of justice 
+either restore to their rights, or maintain in their rights. Theex- 
+penseoftheadministration of justice, therefore, may very prop- 
+erly be defrayed by the particular contribution of one or other, or 
+both, of those two different sets of persons, according asdifferent 
+occasions may require, that is, by the fees of court. It cannot be 
+necessary to have recourse to thegeneral contribution of thewhole 
+society, except for the conviction of those criminalswhohavenot 
+
+
+
+themselves any estate or fund sufficient for paying those fees. 
+
+T hose local or provincial expenses, of which the benefit is local 
+or provincial (what is laid out, for example, upon the police of a 
+particular town or district), ought to be defrayed by a local or 
+provincial revenue, and ought to be no burden upon thegeneral 
+revenue of the society. It is unjust that the whole society should 
+contribute towardsan expense, of which thebenefitisconfined to 
+a part of the society. 
+
+The expense of maintaining good roads and communications 
+is, no doubt, beneficial to thewholesociety, and may, therefore, 
+without any injustice, bedefrayed bythegeneral contributionsof 
+thewholesociety.Thisexpense, however, ismost immediately and 
+directly beneficial to those who travd or carry goods from one 
+placeto another, and to those who consumesuch goods. Theturn- 
+pike tolls in England, and the duties called peagesin other coun- 
+tries, lay it altogether upon those two different sets of people, and 
+thereby discharge the general revenue of the society from a very 
+considerable burden. 
+
+T he expense of the institutions for education and rdigious in- 
+struction, is likewise, no doubt, beneficial to thewholesociety, 
+and may, therefore, without injustice, bedefrayed bythegeneral 
+contribution of thewholesociety. This expense, however, might, 
+perhaps, with equal propriety, and even with some advantage, be 
+
+
+
+667 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+defrayed altogether by thosewho receive the immediate benefit of 
+such education and instruction, or by the voluntary contribution 
+of those who think they have occasion for either the one or the 
+other. 
+
+When the institutions, or public works, which are beneficial to 
+the whole society, either cannot be maintained altogether, or are 
+not maintained altogether, bythecontribution of such particular 
+members of thesociety as are most immediately benefited by them; 
+the deficiency must, in most cases, be made up by the general 
+contribution of thewholesociety.Thegeneral revenueof thesoci- 
+ety, over and above defraying the expense of defending thesociety, 
+and of supporting the dignity of the chief magistrate, must make 
+up for the deficiency of many particular branches of revenue. T he 
+sources of this general or public revenue, I shall endeavour to ex- 
+plain in thefollowing chapter. 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II 
+
+
+
+OF THE SOURCES OF THE GENERAL OR 
+PUBLIC REVENUE OFTHE SOCIETY 
+
+The revenue which must defray, not only the expense of defend- 
+ing the society and of supporting the dignity of the chief magis- 
+trate, but all theother necessary expensesof government, for which 
+the constitution of the state has not provided any particular rev- 
+enuemay bedrawn, either, first, from somefund which peculiarly 
+belongs to the sovereign or commonwealth, and which is inde- 
+pendent of the revenue of the people; or, secondly, from the rev- 
+enue of the people. 
+
+
+
+PART I 
+
+Of the Funds, or Sources, of Revenue, which may peculiarly 
+belong to the Sovereign or Commonwealth 
+
+The funds, or sources, of revenue, which may peculiarly belong 
+to the sovereign or commonwealth, must consist, either in stock, 
+or in land. 
+
+
+
+668 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+Thesovereign, like, any other owner of stock, may derive a rev- 
+enuefrom it, either by employing it himself, or by lending it. H is 
+revenue is, in the one case, profit, in the other interest. 
+
+The revenue of a Tartar or Arabian chief consists in profit. It 
+arisesprincipally from themilk and increase of hi sown herdsand 
+flocks, of which he himself superintends the management, and is 
+the principal shepherd or herdsman of hisown horde or tribe. It 
+is, however, in this earliest and rudest state of civil government 
+only, that profit has ever made the principal part of the public 
+revenue of a monarchical state. 
+
+Small republics have sometimes derived a considerable revenue 
+from the profit of mercantile projects. The republic of Hamburgh 
+is said to do so from the profits of a public wine-cellar and 
+apothecary's shop. {5eeM emoiresconcernantlesDroitset Impo- 
+sitions en Europe, tome i. page 73. This work was compiled by 
+the order of the court, for the use of a commission employed for 
+some years past in considering the proper means for reforming 
+the finances of France. The account of the French taxes, which 
+takes up three volumes in quarto, may be regarded as perfectly 
+authentic. That of those of other European nations was com pi led 
+from such information as the French ministers at the different 
+courts could procure. It is much shorter, and probably not quite 
+so exact as that of the French taxes.} That state cannot be very 
+
+
+
+great, of which thesovereign has leisure to carry on the trade of a 
+wine-merchant or an apothecary. T he profit of a public bank has 
+been a source of revenue to more considerable states. It has been 
+so, not only to Hamhurgh, but to Venice and Amsterdam. A rev- 
+enue of this kind has even by some people been thought not be- 
+low the attention of so great an empire as that of Great Britain. 
+Reckoning the ordinary dividend of the bank of England at five 
+and a-half percent., and its capital at ten millions seven hundred 
+and eighty thousand pounds, the neat annual profit, after paying 
+the expense of management, must amount, it is said, to five hun- 
+dred and ninety-two thousand nine hundred pounds. Govern- 
+ment, it is pretended, could borrow this capital at three per cent, 
+interest, and, by taking the management of the bank into its own 
+hands, might make a clear profit of two hundred and sixty-nine 
+thousand five hundred pounds a-year. The orderly, vigilant, and 
+parsimoniousadministration of such aristocracies as those of Venice 
+and Amsterdam, is extremely proper, it appears from experience, 
+for the management of a mercantile project of this kind. But 
+whether such a government us that of England, which, whatever 
+may beits virtues, hasneverbeen famousforgood economy; which, 
+in time of peace, has generally conducted itself with the slothful 
+and negligent profusion that is, perhaps, natural to monarchies; 
+and, in time of war, has constantly acted with all the thoughtless 
+
+
+
+669 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+extravagance that democracies are apt to fall into, could be safely 
+trusted with the management of such a project, must at least be a 
+good deal more doubtful. 
+
+The post-office is properly a mercantile project. The govern- 
+ment advances the expense of establishing the different offices, 
+and of buying or hiring the necessary horses or carriages, and is 
+repaid, with a largeprofit, by thedutiesupon what iscarried. It is, 
+perhaps, the only mercantile project which has been successfully 
+managed by, I believe, every sort of government. The capital to be 
+advanced isnot very considerableThereisno mystery in the busi- 
+ness. T he returns are not only certain but immediate. 
+
+Princes, however, have frequently engaged in many other mer- 
+cantile projects, and have been willing, like private persons, to 
+mend their fortunes, by becoming adventurers in the common 
+branches of trade. T hey have scarce ever succeeded. T heprofusion 
+with which the affairs of princes are always managed, renders it 
+almost impossible that they should. The agents of a prince regard 
+the wealth of their master as inexhaustible; are careless at what 
+price they buy, are careless at what price they sell, are careless at 
+what expense they transport his goods from one place to another. 
+Those agents frequently live with the profusion of princes; and 
+sometimes, too, in spiteof that profusion, and by a proper method 
+of making up their accounts, acquire the fortunes of princes. It 
+
+
+
+was thus, as we are told by M achiavd, that the agents of Lorenzo 
+of M edicis, not a prince of mean abilities, carried on his trade. 
+Therepublic of Florencewas several timesobliged to pay thedebt 
+into which their extravagance had involved him. H efound it con- 
+venient, accordingly to giveup thebusiness of merchant, thebusi- 
+ness to which hisfamily had originally owed their fortune, and, in 
+the latter part of his life, to employ both what remained of that 
+fortune, and the revenue of the state, of which he had the dis- 
+posal, in projects and expenses more suitable to hisstation. 
+
+N o two characters seem more inconsistent than those of trader 
+and sovereign. If the trading spirit of the English East India com- 
+pany renders them very bad sovereigns, the spirit of sovereignty 
+seemsto have rendered them equally bad traders. W hilethey were 
+traders only, they managed their trade successfully, and were able 
+to pay from their profits a moderate dividend to the proprietors of 
+their stock. Since they became sovereigns, with a revenue which, 
+it is said, was originally more than three millions sterling, they 
+have been obliged to beg the ordinary assistance of government, 
+in order to avoid immediate bankruptcy. In their former situa- 
+tion, their servants in India considered themselves as thederks of 
+merchants; in thdr present situation, thoseservants consider them- 
+sdves as the ministers of soverdgns. 
+
+A state may somdimes derive some part of its public revenue 
+
+
+
+670 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+from the interest of money, as well as from the profits of stock. If 
+it has amassed a treasure, it may lend a part of that treasure, either 
+to foreign states, or to its own subjects. 
+
+T he canton of Berne derives a considerable revenue by lending 
+a part of its treasure to foreign states, that is, by placing it in the 
+public funds of the different indebted nations of Europe, chiefly 
+in thoseof France and England. T hesecurity of this revenue must 
+depend, first, upon thesecurity of thefunds in which itisplaced, 
+or upon the good faith of the government which has the manage- 
+ment of them; and, secondly, upon thecertainty or probability of 
+the continuance of peace with the debtor nation. In the case of a 
+war, the very first act of hostility on the part of the debtor nation 
+might be the forfeiture of thefunds of its credit or. This policy of 
+lending money to foreign states is, so far as I know peculiar to the 
+canton of Berne. 
+
+Thecityof H amburgh {SeeM emoireconcernantlesDroiteset 
+I mpositionsen Europe tomei p. 73. }has established asort of pub- 
+lic pawn-shop, which lends money to the subjects of the state, 
+upon pledges, at six per cent, interest. T hispawn-shop, or lombard, 
+as it is called, affords a revenue, it is pretended, to the state, of a 
+hundred and fifty thousand crowns, which, at four and sixpence 
+the crown, amounts to £33,750 sterling. 
+
+The government of Pennsylvania, without amassing any trea- 
+
+
+
+sure, invented a method of lending, not money, indeed, but what 
+is equivalent to money, to its subjects. By advancing to private 
+people, at interest, and upon land security to double the value, 
+paper bills of credit, to be redeemed fifteen years after their date; 
+and, in themean time, made transferable from hand to hand, like 
+banknotes, and declared by act of assembly to be a legal tender in 
+all payments from one inhabitant of the province to another, it 
+raised a moderate revenue, which went a considerable way to- 
+wards defraying an annual expense of about £4,500, the whole 
+ordinary expense of that frugal and orderly government. The suc- 
+cess of an expedient of this kind must have depended upon three 
+different circumstances: first, upon the demand for some other 
+instrument of commerce, besides gold and silver money, or upon 
+the demand for such a quantity of consumable stock as could not 
+be had without sending abroad the greater part of their gold and 
+silver money, in order to purchase it; secondly, upon the good 
+credit of the government which made use of this expedient; and, 
+thirdly, upon the moderation with which it was used, the whole 
+value of the paper bills of credit never exceeding that of the gold 
+and silver money which would have been necessary for carrying 
+on their circulation, had there been no paper bills of credit. The 
+same expedient was, upon different occasions, adopted by several 
+other American colonies; but, from want of this moderation, it 
+
+
+
+671 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+produced, in the greater part of them, much more disorder than 
+convenience 
+
+The unstable and perishable nature of stock and credit, how- 
+ever, renders them unfit to be trusted to as the principal funds of 
+that sure, steady, and permanent revenue, which can alone give 
+security and dignity to government. The government of no great 
+nation, that was advanced beyond the shepherd state, seems ever 
+to have derived the greater part of its public revenue from such 
+sources. 
+
+Land is a fund of more stable and permanent nature; and the 
+rent of public lands, accordingly, has been the principal source of 
+thepublicrevenueof manyagreatnation that wasmuch advanced 
+beyond the shepherd state. From theproduceor rent of thepublic 
+lands, theancient republics of Greece and Italy derived foralong 
+the the greater part of that revenue which defrayed the necessary 
+expenses of the commonwealth. The rent of thecrown lands con- 
+stituted for a long time the greater part of the revenue of the an- 
+cient sovereigns of Europe. 
+
+War, and the preparation for war, are the two circumstances 
+which, in modern times, occasion the greater part of the necessary 
+expense or all great states. But in theancient republics of Greece 
+and Italy, every citizen was a soldier, and both served, and pre- 
+pared himself for service, at hi sown expense. Neither of those two 
+
+
+
+circumstances, therefore, could occasion any very considerableex- 
+pen se to thestate. T he rent of a very moderate landed estate might 
+be fully sufficient for defraying all theother necessary expenses of 
+government. 
+
+I n theancient monarchiesof Europe, the manners and customs 
+of the time sufficiently prepared the great body of the people for 
+war; and when they took the field, they were, by the condition of 
+their feudal tenures, to be maintained either at their own expense, 
+or at that of their immediate lords, without bringing any new 
+chargeuponthesovereign. Theother expenses of government were, 
+the greater part of them, very moderate. The administration of 
+justice, it has been shewn, instead of being a cause of expense was 
+a source of revenue. T he labour of the country people, for three 
+days before, and for three days after, harvest, was thought a fund 
+sufficient for making and maintaining all the bridges, highways, 
+and other public works, which the commerce of the country was 
+supposed to require. In those days the principal expense of the 
+sovereign seems to have consisted in the maintenance of his own 
+family and household. Theofficersofhishousehold, accordingly, 
+were then the great officers of state. T he lord treasurer received his 
+rents. The lord steward and lord chamberlain looked after the ex- 
+pense of his family. T he care of his stables was committed to the 
+lord constable and the lord marshal. His houses were all built in 
+
+
+
+672 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+the form of castles, and seem to have been the principal fortresses 
+which he possessed. T he keepers of those houses or castles might 
+be considered as a sort of military governors T hey seem to have 
+been theonly military officers whom it was necessary to main tain 
+in timeof peace. I n these circumstances, therent of a great landed 
+estate might, upon ordinary occasions, very well defray all the 
+necessary expenses of government. 
+
+I n the present state of the greater part of the civilized monar- 
+chies of Europe, the rent of all thelandsin thecountry, managed 
+as they probably would be, if they all belonged to one proprietor, 
+would scarce, perhaps, amount to the ordinary revenuewhich they 
+levy upon the people even in peaceable times. The ordinary rev- 
+enue of Great Britain, for example, including not only what is 
+necessary for defraying the current expense of the year, but for 
+paying the interest of the public debts, and for sinking a part of 
+the capital of those debts, amounts to upwards of ten millions a- 
+year. But the land tax, at four shillings in the pound, fallsshort of 
+two millions a-year. This land tax, as it is called however, is sup- 
+posed to be one-fifth, not only of the rent of all the land, but of 
+that of all the houses, and of the interest of all the capital stock of 
+Great Britain, that part of it only excepted which is either lent to 
+the public, or employed as farming stock in the cultivation of 
+land. A very considerable part of the produce of this tax arises 
+
+
+
+from the rent of houses and the interest of capital stock. T he land 
+tax of the city of London, for example, at four shillings in the 
+pound, amounts to £123,399: 6: 7; that of the city of Westminster 
+to £63,092: 1: 5; that of the palaces of Whitehall and St. James's, 
+to £30,754: 6: 3. A certain proportion of the land tax is, in the 
+same manner, assessed upon all the other cities and towns corpo- 
+rate in the kingdom; and arises almost altogether, either from the 
+rent of houses, or from what is supposed to be the interest of 
+trading and capital stock. According to the estimation, therefore, 
+by which Great Britain is rated to the land tax, the whole mass of 
+revenue arising from the rent of all the lands, from that of all the 
+houses, and from the interest of all the capital stock, that part of it 
+only excepted which is either lent to the public, or employed in 
+the cultivation of land, does not exceed ten millions sterling a- 
+year, the ordinary revenue which government levies upon the 
+people, even in peaceable times. The estimation by which Great 
+Britain is rated to the land tax is, no doubt, taking the whole 
+kingdom at an average, very much below the real value; though in 
+several particular counties and districts it is said to benearly equal 
+to that value. The rent of the lands alone, exclusive of that of 
+houses and of the interest of stock, has by many people been esti- 
+mated at twenty millions; an estimation made in a great measure 
+at random, and which, I apprehend, is as likely to be above as 
+
+
+
+673 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+below the truth. But if the lands of Great Britain, in the present 
+state of their cultivation, do not afford a rent of more than twenty 
+mil lions a-year, they could not well afford thehalf, most probably 
+not the fourth part of that rent, if they all belonged to a single 
+proprietor, and were put under the negligent, expensive, and op- 
+pressive management of his factors and agents T he crown lands 
+of Great Britain do not at present afford the fourth part of the 
+rent which could probably be drawn from them if they were the 
+property of private persons. If the crown lands were more exten- 
+sive, it is probable, they would be still worse managed. 
+
+T he revenue which the great body of the people derives from 
+land is, in proportion, not to the rent, but to the produce of the 
+land. The whole annual produce of the land of every country, if 
+we except what is reserved for seed, is either annually consumed 
+by the great body of the people, or exchanged for something else 
+that is consumed by them. Whatever keeps down the produce of 
+the land below what it would otherwise rise to, keeps down the 
+revenue of the great body of the people, still more than it does 
+that of the proprietors of land. The rent of land, that portion of 
+the produce which belongs to the proprietors, is scarce anywhere 
+in Great Britain supposed to be more than a third part of the 
+whole produce. If the land which, in one state of cultivation, af- 
+fords a revenue of ten millions sterling a-year, would in another 
+
+
+
+afford a rent of twenty millions; the rent being, in both cases, 
+supposed a third part of the produce, the revenue of the propri- 
+etors would be less than it otherwise might be, by ten millions a- 
+year only; but the revenue of the great hotly of the people would 
+be less than it otherwise might be, by thirty millions a-year, de- 
+ductingonly what would benecessary for seed. Thepopulation of 
+the country would be less by the number of people which thirty 
+millions a-year, deducting always the seed, could maintain, ac- 
+cording to theparticularmodeof living, and expense which might 
+take place in the different ranks of men, among whom the re- 
+mainder was distributed. 
+
+Though there is not at present in Europe, any civilized state of 
+any kind which derives the greater part of itspublicrevenuefrom 
+the rent of lands which are the property of the state; yet, in all the 
+great monarchies of Europe, there are still many large tracts of 
+land which belong to the crown. They are generally forest, and 
+sometimes forests where, after travelling several miles, you will 
+scarce find a single tree; a mere waste and loss of country, in re- 
+spect both of produce and population. In every great monarchy of 
+Europe, the sale of the crown lands would produce a very large 
+sum of money, which, if applied to the payment of the public 
+debts, would deliver from mortgage a much greater revenuethan 
+any which those lands have even afforded to the crown. In coun- 
+
+
+
+674 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+tries where lands, improved and cultivated very highly, and yield- 
+ing, at the time of sale, as great a rent as can easily be got from 
+them, commonly sell at thirty years purchase; the unimproved, 
+uncultivated, and low-rented crown lands, might well beexpected 
+to sell at forty, fifty, or sixty years purchase. The crown might 
+immediately enjoy the revenue which this great price would re 
+deem from mortgage. In the course of a few years, it would prob- 
+ably enjoy another revenue. W hen the crown lands had become 
+private property, they would, in the course of a few years, become 
+well improved and well cultivated. The increase of their produce 
+would increase the population of thecountry, by augmenting the 
+revenue and consumption of the people. But the revenue which 
+the crown derives from the duties or custom and excise, would 
+necessarily increase with the revenue and consumption of the 
+people. 
+
+The revenue which, in any civilized monarchy, the crown de- 
+rives from the crown lands, though it appears to cost nothing to 
+individuals, in reality costs more to the society than perhaps any 
+other equal revenue which thecrown enjoys. It would, in all cases, 
+be for the interest of the society, to replace this revenue to the 
+crown by someother equal revenue, and to dividethelandsamong 
+the people, which could not well bedone better, perhaps, than by 
+exposing them to public sale. 
+
+
+
+Lands, for the purposes of pleasure and magnificence, parks, 
+gardens, public walks, etc. possessions which are everywhere con- 
+sidered as causes of expense, not as sources of revenue, seem to be 
+the only lands which, in a great and civilized monarchy, ought to 
+belong to the crown. 
+
+Public stock and public lands, therefore, thetwo sources of rev- 
+enue which may peculiarly belong to the sovereign or common- 
+wealth, being both improper and insufficient fundsfor defraying 
+the necessary expense of any great and civilized state; it remains 
+that this expense must, the greater part of it, be defrayed by taxes 
+of one kind or another; the people contributing a part of their 
+own private revenue, in order to make up a public revenue to the 
+sovereign or commonwealth. 
+
+
+
+675 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+PART II 
+
+Of Taxes 
+
+The private revenue of individuals, it has been shown in the 
+first book of this Inquiry, arises, ultimately from three different 
+sources; rent, profit, and wages. Every tax must finally be paid 
+from some one or other of those three different sources of rev- 
+enue, or from all of them indifferently. I shall endeavour to give 
+the best account I can, first, of those taxes which, it is intended 
+should fall upon rent; secondly, of those which, it isintended should 
+fall upon profit; thirdly, of those which, it isintended should fall 
+upon wages; and fourthly, of those which, it isintended should 
+fall indifferently upon all those three different sources of private 
+revenue. The particular consideration of each of these four differ- 
+ent sorts of taxes will dividethe second part of the present chapter 
+into four articles, three of which will require several other subdivi- 
+sions. M any of these taxes, it will appear from the following re- 
+view, are not finally paid from the fund, or source of revenue, 
+upon which it isintended they should fall. 
+
+Before I enter upon the examination of particular taxes,it isnec- 
+essary to premise thefourfollowingmaximiswith regard to taxes 
+in general. 
+
+
+
+1. Thesubjectsof every state ought to contributetowardsthesup- 
+port of the government, as nearly as possible, in proportion to 
+their respective abilities; that is, in proportion to therevenuewhich 
+they respectively enjoy under the protection of the state. T he ex- 
+pense of government to the individuals of a great nation, is like 
+the expense of management to the joint tenants of a great estate, 
+who are all obliged to contributein proportion to their respective 
+interests in the estate. In the observation or neglect of thismaxim, 
+consists what iscalled theequality or inequality of taxation. Every 
+tax, it must be observed once for all, which falls finally upon one 
+only of the three sorts of revenue above mentioned, is necessarily 
+unequal, in so far asit doesnot affect theother two. I n thefollow- 
+ing examination of different taxes, I shall seldom take much far- 
+ther notice of this sort of inequality; but shall, in most cases, con- 
+fine my observations to that inequality which is occasioned by a 
+particular tax falling unequally upon that particular sort of pri- 
+vate revenue which is affected by it. 
+
+2. The tax which each individual is bound to pay, ought to be 
+certain and not arbitrary. The time of payment, the manner of 
+payment, the quantity to be paid, ought all to be clear and plain 
+to the contributor, and to every other person. Where it is other- 
+wise, every person subject to the tax is put more or less in the 
+
+
+
+676 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+power of the tax-gatherer, who can either aggravate the tax upon 
+any obnoxiouscontributor, or extort, by the terror of such aggra- 
+vation, some present or perquisite to himself. The uncertainty of 
+taxation encourages the insolence, and favours the corruption, of 
+an order of men who arenaturally unpopular, even where they are 
+neither insolent nor corrupt. T hecertainty of what each individual 
+ought to pay is, in taxation, a matter of so great importance, that 
+a very considerable degree of inequality, it appears, I believe, from 
+the experience of all nations, is not near so great an evil as a very 
+small degree of uncertainty. 
+
+3. Every tax ought to be levied at the time, or in the manner, in 
+which it is most likely to be convenient for the contributor to pay 
+it. A tax upon the rent of land or of houses, payable at the same 
+term at which such rents are usually paid, is levied at the time 
+when it is most likely to beconvenient for the contributor to pay; 
+or when heismost likely to have wherewithal! to pay. Taxes upon 
+such consumable goods as are articles of luxury, are all finally paid 
+by the consumer, and generally in a manner that is very conve- 
+nientfor him. Hepaysthem bylittleand little, as he has occasion 
+to buy the goods. As he is at liberty too, either to buy or not to 
+buy, as he pleases, it must be his own fault if he ever suffers any 
+considerable inconveniency from such taxes. 
+
+
+
+4. Every tax ought to be so contrived, as both to take out and to 
+keep out of the pockets of the people as little as possible, over and 
+above what it brings into the public treasury of the state. A tax 
+may either take out or keep out of the pockets of the people a 
+great deal more than it brings into the public treasury, inthefour 
+following ways. First, thelevying of it may requirea great number 
+of officers, whose salaries may eat up the greater part of the pro- 
+duce of thetax, and whose perquisites may impose another addi- 
+tional tax upon the people. Secondly, it may obstruct the industry 
+of the people, and discourage them from applying to certain 
+branches of business which might give maintenance and employ- 
+ment to great multitudes. W hile it obliges the people to pay, it 
+may thus diminish, or perhaps destroy, some of the funds which 
+might en ablethem moreeasilyto do so. Thirdly, bytheforfeitures 
+and other penalties which those unfortunate individuals incur, 
+who attempt unsuccessfully to evade the tax, it may frequently 
+ruin them, and thereby put an end to the benefit which the com- 
+munity might have received from the employment of their capi- 
+tals. An injudicious tax offers a great temptation to smuggling. 
+But the penalties of smuggling must arise in proportion to the 
+temptation. The law, contrary to all the ordinary principles of 
+justice, first creates the temptation, and then punishes those who 
+yield to it; and it commonly enhances the punishment, too, in 
+
+
+
+677 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+proportion to the very circumstance which ought certainly to al- 
+leviate it, the temptation to commit the crime. {See Sketches of 
+the H istory of M an page 474, and Seq.} Fourthly, by subjecting 
+the people to the frequent visits and the odious examination of 
+the tax- gatherers, it may expose them to much unnecessary trouble, 
+vexation, and oppression; and though vexation isnot, strictly speak- 
+ing, expense, it is certainly equivalent to the expense at which 
+every man would be willing to redeem himself from it. It is in 
+some one or other of these four different ways, that taxes are fre- 
+quently so much more burdensome to the people than they are 
+beneficial to the sovereign. 
+
+The evident justice and utility of the foregoing maxims have 
+recommended them, more or less, to the attention of all nations. 
+All nations have endeavoured, to the best of their judgment, to 
+render their taxes as equal as they could contrive; as certain, as 
+convenient to the contributor, both the time and the mode of 
+payment, and in proportion to the revenue which they brought to 
+the prince, as littleburdensometo the people. Thefollowing short 
+review of some of the principal taxes which have taken place in 
+different ages and countries, will show, that the endeavours of all 
+nations have not in this respect been equally successful. 
+
+
+
+ARTICLE I. — Taxes upon Rent— Taxes upon the Rent of 
+Land. 
+
+A tax upon the rent of land may either be imposed according to 
+acertain canon, every district being valued atacurtain rent, which 
+valuation is not afterwards to be altered; or it may be imposed in 
+such a manner, as to vary with every variation in the real rent of 
+theland, and to riseor fall with the improvement or declension of 
+its cultivation. 
+
+A land tax which, like that of Great Britain, isassessed upon each 
+district according to a certain invariablecanon, though it should be 
+equal at thetimeof its first establishment, necessarily becomes un- 
+equal in process of time, according to the unequal degrees of im- 
+provement or neglect in the cultivation of the different parts of the 
+country. In England, the valuation, according to which the differ- 
+ent counties and parishes were assessed to theland tax by the4th of 
+William and M ary, was very unequal even at itsfirst establishment. 
+T his tax, therefore, so far offends against the first of the four max- 
+ims above mentioned. It is perfectly agreeable to the other three. It 
+isperfectly certain. T hetimeof payment for thetax, being thesame 
+as that for the rent, isasconvenientasitcan be to the contributor. 
+Though the landlord is, in all cases, the real contributor, thetax is 
+commonly advanced bythetenant, to whom thelandlord isobliged 
+to allow it in the payment of the rent. T his tax is levied by a much 
+
+
+
+678 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+smaller number of officers than any other which affords nearly the 
+same revenue. As the tax upon each district does not rise with the 
+rise of the rent, the sovereign does not share in the profits of the 
+landlord'simprovem en ts.Thoseimprovem en ts sometimes contrib- 
+ute, indeed, to the discharge of the other landlords of the district. 
+But the aggravation of thetax, which this may sometimes occasion 
+upon a particular estate, is always so very small, that it never can 
+discourage thoseimprovem en ts, nor keep down theproduceof the 
+land below what it would otherwise rise to. Asithasno tendency to 
+diminish the quantity, it can have none to raise the price of that 
+produce. It does not obstruct the industry of the people; it subjects 
+thelandlord to no other inconveniency besides theunavoidableone 
+of paying thetax. 
+
+The advantage, however, which the land-lord hasderived from 
+the invariable constancy of thevaluation, by which all thelands 
+of Great Britain are rated to the land-tax, has been principally 
+owing to some circumstances altogether extraneous to the na- 
+ture of thetax. 
+
+It hasbeen owingin part, to the great prosperity of almost every 
+part of the country, the rents of almost all the estates of Great 
+Britain having, si nee the time when this valuation was first estab- 
+lished, been continually rising, and scarce any of them havingfallen. 
+The landlords, therefore, have almost all gained the difference 
+
+
+
+between the tax which they would have paid, according to the 
+present rent of thar estates, and that which they actually pay ac- 
+cording to the ancient valuation. H ad the state of the country 
+been different, had rents been gradually falling in consequence of 
+the declension of cultivation, the landlords would almost all have 
+lost this difference. I n the state of things which has happened to 
+takeplacesincetherevolution, theconstancy of thevaluation has 
+been advantageous to the landlord and hurtful to thesoveragn. 
+I n a different state of things it might have been advantageous to 
+thesoveragn and hurtful to the landlord. 
+
+As the tax is made payable in money, so the valuation of the 
+land isexpressed in money. Since theestablishment of this valua- 
+tion, the value of silver has been pretty uniform, and there has 
+been no alteration in the standard of the coin, either as to weight 
+or fineness. H ad silver risen considerably in its value, asitseemsto 
+have done in the course of the two centuries which preceded the 
+discovery of the mines of America, the constancy of the valuation 
+might haveproved very oppressive to thelandlord. H ad silver fall en 
+considerably in its value, as it certainly did for about a century at 
+least after the discovery of those mines, the same constancy of 
+valuation would have reduced very much this branch of the rev- 
+enue of thesoveragn. H ad any considerablealteration been made 
+in the standard of the money, ather by sinking the same quantity 
+
+
+
+679 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+of silver to a lower denomination, or by raising it to a higher; had 
+an ounce of silver, for example, instead of being coined into five 
+shillings and two pence, been coined either into pieces which bore 
+so low a denomination as two shillings and seven pence, or into 
+pieces which bore so high aoneasten shillings and four pence, it 
+would, in theonecase, havehurttherevenueof the proprietor, in 
+the other that of the soverei gn . 
+
+In circumstances, therefore, somewhat different from those 
+which have actually taken place, thisconstancy of valuation might 
+have been a very great inconveniency, either to the contributors or 
+to the commonwealth. In the course of ages, such circumstances, 
+however, must at some time or other happen. But though em- 
+pires, like all the other works of men, have all hitherto proved 
+mortal, yet every empire aimsat immortality. Every constitution, 
+therefore, which it ismeant should be as permanent as theempire 
+itself, ought to be convenient, not in certain circumstances only, 
+but in all circumstances; or ought to be suited, not to those cir- 
+cumstances which are transitory, occasional, or accidental, but to 
+those which are necessary, and therefore always the same. 
+
+A tax upon the rent of land, which varies with every variation of 
+the rent, or which rises and fallsaccordingtotheimprovement or 
+neglect of cultivation, is recommended by that sect of men of 
+letters in France, who call themselves the economists, as the most 
+
+
+
+equitable of all taxes. All taxes, they pretend, fall ultimately upon 
+therent of land, and ought, therefore, to beimposed equally upon 
+thefund which must finally pay them. T hat all taxes ought to fall 
+asequally aspossibleupon thefund which must finally pay them, 
+is certainly true. But without entering into the disagreeable dis- 
+cussion of the metaphysical arguments by which they support their 
+very ingenioustheory, it will sufficiently appear, from the follow- 
+ing review, what are the taxes which fall finally upon therent of 
+the land, and what are those which fall finally upon some other 
+fund. 
+
+In the Venetian territory, all the arable lands which are given in 
+lease to farmers are taxed at a tenth of the rent. {M emoires 
+concernant les Droits, p. 240, 241. }T he leases are recorded in a 
+public register, which is kept by the officers of revenue in each 
+province or district. W hen theproprietor cultivateshisown lands, 
+they are valued according to an equitable estimation, and he is 
+allowed a deduction of one-fifth of the tax; so that for such land 
+he pays only eight instead of ten per cent, of the supposed rent. 
+
+A land-tax of thiskind iscertainly more equal than theland-tax 
+of England. It might not, perhaps, be altogether so certain, and 
+the assessment of the tax might frequently occasion a good deal 
+more trouble to the landlord. It might, too, be a good deal more 
+expensive in the levying. 
+
+
+
+680 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+Such a system of administration, however, might, perhaps, be 
+contrived, as would in a great measure both prevent this uncer- 
+tainty, and moderate this expense. 
+
+The landlord and tenant, for example, might jointly be obliged 
+to record their lease in a public register. Proper penalties might be 
+enacted against concealing or misrepresenting any of the condi- 
+tions; and if part of those penalties were to be paid to either of the 
+two parties who informed against and convicted theother of such 
+concealment or misrepresentation, itwould effectually deter them 
+from combining together in order to defraud the public revenue. 
+All the conditions of the lease might be sufficiently known from 
+such a record. 
+
+Some landlords, instead of raising the rent, take a fine for the 
+renewal of the I ease. This practice is, in most cases, the expedient 
+of a spendthrift, who, for a sum of ready money sells a future 
+revenueof much greater value. It is, in most cases, therefore, hurt- 
+ful to the landlord; it is frequently hurtful to the tenant; and it is 
+alwayshurtfultothecommunity. Itfrequentlytakesfromtheten- 
+ant so great a part of his capital, and thereby diminishes so much 
+his ability to cultivate the land, that he finds it more difficult to 
+pay a small rent than it would otherwise have been to pay a great 
+one. W hatever diminish eshisability to cultivate, necessarily keeps 
+down, below what it would otherwise have been, the most impor- 
+
+
+
+tant part of the revenue of the community. By rendering the tax 
+upon such fines a good deal heavier than upon the ordinary rent, 
+this hurtful practice might be discouraged, to the no small advan- 
+tage of all the different parties concerned, of the landlord, of the 
+tenant, of the sovereign, and of the whole community. 
+
+Some leases prescribe to the tenant a certain mode of cultiva- 
+tion, and a certain succession of crops, during the wholecontinu- 
+anceof the lease. This condition, which is generally the effect of 
+the landlord's conceit of hisown superior knowledge (a conceit in 
+most cases very ill-founded), ought always to be considered as an 
+additional rent, asarentin service, instead of a rent in money. In 
+order to discourage the practice, which is generally a foolish one, 
+thisspeciesof rent might be valued rather high, and consequently 
+taxed somewhat higher than common money-rents. 
+
+Some landlords, instead of a rent in money, require a rent in 
+kind, in corn, cattle, poultry, wine, oil, etc.; others, again, require 
+a rent in service. Such rents are always more hurtful to thetenant 
+than beneficial to the landlord. They either take more, or keep 
+more out of the pocket of the former, than they put into that of 
+the latter. I n every country where they take place, the tenants are 
+poor and beggarly, pretty much according to the degree in which 
+they take place. Byvaluing, in the same manner, such rents rather 
+high, and consequently taxing them somewhat higher than com- 
+
+
+
+681 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+mon money-rents, a practice which is hurtful to the whole com- 
+munity, might, perhaps, be sufficiently discouraged. 
+
+W hen the landlord chose to occupy himself a part of his own 
+lands, therent might be valued according to an equitable arbitra- 
+tion of the farmers and landlords in the neighbourhood, and a 
+moderate abatement of the tax might be granted to him, in the 
+same manner as in the Venetian territory, provided the rent of the 
+lands which he occupied did not exceed a certain sum. It is of 
+importance that the landlord should be encouraged to cultivate a 
+part of his own land. H is capital is generally greater than that of 
+the tenant, and, with less skill, he can frequently raise a greater 
+produce. The landlord can afford to try experiments, and is gen- 
+erally disposed to do so. H is unsuccessful experiments occasion 
+only a moderate I oss to himself. H issuccessful ones contribute to 
+the improvement and better cultivation of the whole country. It 
+might be of importance, however, that the abatement of the tax 
+should encourage him to cultivate to a certain extent only. If the 
+landlordsshould, thegreater part of them, be tempted to farm the 
+wholeof their own lands, the country (instead of sober and indus- 
+trioustenants, who are bound by their own interest to cultivate as 
+well as their capital and skill will allow them) would be filled with 
+idleand profligate bailiffs, whose abusive management would soon 
+degrade the cultivation, and reduce the annual produce of the 
+
+
+
+land, to thediminution, not only of the revenue of their masters, 
+but of the most important part of that of the whole society. 
+
+Such a system of administration might, perhaps, free a tax of 
+this kind from any degree of uncertainty, which could occasion 
+either oppression or inconveniency to thecontributor; and might, 
+at the same time, serve to introduce into the common manage- 
+ment of land such a plan of policy asmight contribute a good deal 
+to the general improvement and good cultivation of the country. 
+
+T heexpenseof levying a land-tax, which varied with every varia- 
+tion of the rent, would, no doubt, be somewhat greater than that 
+of levying one which was always rated according to a fixed valua- 
+tion. Someadditional expensewould necessarily beincurred, both 
+by thedifferent register-offices which itwould be proper to estab- 
+lish in the different districts of the country, and by the different 
+valuations which might occasionally be made of the lands which 
+the proprietor chose to occupy himself. T he expense of all this, 
+however, might be very moderate, and much below what is in- 
+curred in the levying of many other taxes, which afford a very 
+inconsiderable revenue in comparison of what might easily be 
+drawn from a tax of this kind. 
+
+Thediscouragement which a variable land-tax of thiskind might 
+give to the improvement of land, seems to be the most important 
+objection which can bemadeto it. The landlord would certainly 
+
+
+
+682 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+be less disposed to improve, when the sovereign, who contributed 
+nothing to the expense, was to share in the profit of the improve- 
+ment. Even this objection might, perhaps, be obviated, by allow- 
+ing the landlord, before he began his improvement, to ascertain, 
+in conjunction with the officers of revenue, theactual valueof his 
+lands, according to the equitable arbitration of a certain number 
+of landlordsand farmers in the neighbourhood, equally chosen by 
+both parties: and by rating him, according to this valuation, for 
+such a number of years as might be fully sufficient for his com- 
+plete indemnification. To draw the attention of the sovereign to- 
+wards the improvement of the land, from a regard to the increase 
+of his own revenue, is one or the principal advantages proposed 
+by this species of land-tax. T he term, therefore, allowed, for the 
+indemnification of thelandlord, oughtnotto beagreat deal longer 
+than what was necessary for that purpose, lest the remoteness of 
+theinterest should discourage too much this attention. It had bet- 
+ter, however, be somewhat too long, than in any respect too short. 
+No incitement to theattention of the sovereign can ever counter- 
+balance the smallest discouragement to that of the landlord. T he 
+attention of the sovereign can be, at best, but a very general and 
+vague consideration of what is likely to contribute to the better 
+cultivation of the greater part of his dominions. Theattention of 
+the landlord is a particular and minute consideration of what is 
+
+
+
+likely to be the most advantageous application of every inch of 
+ground upon his estate. The principal attention of the sovereign 
+oughtto be, to encourage, by every meansin hispower, theatten- 
+tion both of the landlord and of the farmer, by allowing both to 
+pursue their own interest in their own way, and according to their 
+own judgment; by giving to both the most perfect security that 
+they shall enjoy thefull recompenceof their own industry; and by 
+procuring to both the most extensive market for every part of 
+their produce, in consequenceof establishing theeasi est and safest 
+communications, both by land and by water, through every part 
+of hisown dominions, as well as the most unbounded freedom of 
+exportation to the dominions of all other princes. 
+
+If, by such a system of administration, a tax of this kind could 
+be so managed as to give, not only no discouragement, but, on the 
+contrary, someencouragementtotheimprovementorland, itdoes 
+not appear likely to occasion any other inconveniency to theland- 
+lord, except always the unavoidable one of being obliged to pay 
+the tax. 
+
+In all the variations of the state of the society, in the improve- 
+ment and in the declension of agriculture; in all the variations in 
+the value of silver, and in all thosein thestandard of thecoin, atax 
+of this kind would, of its own accord, and without any attention 
+of government, readily suit itself to theactual situation of things, 
+
+
+
+683 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+and would be equally just and equitable in all those different 
+changes. It would, therefore, be much more proper to be estab- 
+lished asa perpetual and unalterableregulation, or aswhat iscalled 
+afundamental law of the common wealth, than anytax which was 
+always to be levied according to a certain valuation. 
+
+Some states, instead of the simple and obvious expedient of a 
+register of leases, havehad recoursetothelaboriousand expensive 
+one of an actual survey and valuation of all the lands in the coun- 
+try. T hey have suspected, probably, that the lessor and lessee, in 
+order to defraud the public revenue, might combine to conceal 
+the real terms of the lease. D oomsday-book seems to have been 
+the result of a very accurate survey of this kind. 
+
+I n the ancient dominions of the king of Prussia, the land-tax is 
+assessed according to an actual survey and valuation, which is re 
+viewed and altered from time to time. {M emoiresconcurent les 
+Droits, etc. torn, i. p. 114, 115, 116, etc.}According to that valu- 
+ation, the lay proprietors pay from twenty to twenty-five per cent, 
+of their revenue; ecclesiastics from forty to forty-five per cent. The 
+survey and valuation of Silesia was made by order of the present 
+king, it is said, with great accuracy. According to that valuation, 
+the lands belonging to the bishop of Breslaw are taxed at twenty- 
+five per cent, of their rent. T he other revenues of the ecclesiastics 
+of both religions at fifty per cent. T he commanderies of theTeu- 
+
+
+
+tonic order, and of that of M alta, at forty per cent. Lands held by 
+anobletenure, at thirty-eight and one-third percent. Lands held 
+by a base tenure, at thirty-five and one-third per cent. 
+
+The survey and valuation of Bohemia is said to have been the 
+work of more than a hundred years. It wasnot perfected till after 
+the peace of 1748, by the orders of the present empress queen. 
+{Id. torn i. p.85, 84.}The survey of the duchy of M ilan, which 
+was begun in the time of Charles VI., wasnot perfected till after 
+1760 It is esteemed one of the most accurate that has ever been 
+made. Thesurvey of Savoy and Piedmont was executed under the 
+orders of the late king of Sardinia. {Id. p. 280, etc.; also p, 287. 
+etc. to 316.} 
+
+I nthedominionsoftheking of Prussia, the revenue of the church 
+istaxed much higher than that of lay proprietors. The revenue of 
+the church is, the greater part of it, a burden upon the rent of 
+land. It seldom happens that any part of it is applied towards the 
+improvement of land; or is so employed as to contribute, in any 
+respect, towards increasing the revenue of the great body of the 
+people. H is Prussian majesty had probably, upon that account, 
+thought it reasonable that it should contribute a good deal more 
+towards relieving the exigencies of the state. In some countries, 
+the lands of the church are exempted from all taxes. In others, 
+they are taxed morelightlythan other lands. In theduchy of M ilan, 
+
+
+
+684 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+the lands which thechurch possessed before 1575, are rated to the 
+tax at a third only or their value. 
+
+In Silesia, landsheld byanobletenurearetaxed three per cent, 
+higher than those held by a base tenure. T he honours and privi- 
+leges of different kinds annexed to the former, his Prussian maj- 
+esty had probably imagined, would sufficiently compensateto the 
+proprietor a small aggravation of the tax; while, at the same time, 
+thehumiliating inferiority of thelatter would bein somemeasure 
+alleviated, by being taxed somewhat more lightly. In other coun- 
+tries, the system of taxation, instead of alleviating, aggravates this 
+inequality. In the dominions of the king of Sardinia, and in those 
+provinces of France which are subject to what is called the real or 
+predial taille, thetax falls altogether upon the lands held by a base 
+tenure. T hose held by a noble one are exempted. 
+
+A land tax assessed according to a general survey and valuation, 
+how equal soever it may be at first, must, in the course of a very 
+moderate period of time, become unequal. To prevent its becom- 
+ing so would require the continual and painful attention of gov- 
+ernment to all the variations in the state and produce of every 
+different farm in the country. The governments of Prussia, of 
+Bohemia, of Sardinia, and of theduchyof M ilan, actually exert an 
+attention of thiskind; an attention so unsuitable to the nature of 
+government, that it is not likely to be of long continuance, and 
+
+
+
+which, if it is continued, will probably, in the long-run, occasion 
+much more trouble and vexation than it can possibly bring relief 
+to the contributors. 
+
+I n 1666, the generality of M ontauban was assessed to the real or 
+predial taille, according, it issaid, to a very exact survey and valu- 
+ation. {Memoiresconcernant les Droits, etc. torn, ii p. 139, etc.} 
+By 1727, this assessment had become altogether unequal. In or- 
+der to remedy this inconveniency, government has found no bet- 
+ter expedient, than to imposeupon the whole generality an addi- 
+tional tax of a hundred and twenty thousand livres. This addi- 
+tional tax is rated upon all the different districts subject to the 
+taille according to the old assessment. But it is levied only upon 
+those which, in the actual state of things, are by that assessment 
+under-taxed; and it is applied to the relief of those which, by the 
+same assessment, are over-taxed. Two districts, for example, one 
+of which ought, in the actual state of things, to be taxed at nine 
+hundred, theother at eleven hundred livres, are, by the old assess- 
+ment, both taxed at a thousand livres. Both these districts are, by 
+the additional tax, rated at eleven hundred livres each. But this 
+additional tax is levied only upon the district under-charged, and 
+it is applied altogether to the relief of that overcharged, which 
+consequently pays only nine hundred livres. Thegovernment nei- 
+ther gains nor loses by the additional tax, which is applied alto- 
+
+
+
+685 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+gether to remedy theinequalitiesarisingfrom theold assessment. 
+The application is pretty much regulated according to the di sere 
+tion of the intendant of the generality and must, therefore, be in 
+a great measure arbitrary. 
+
+Taxes which are proportioned, not in the Rent, but to the 
+Produce of Land. 
+
+Taxes upon the produce of land are, I n reality, taxes upon the rent; 
+and though they may be originally advanced by the farmer, are fi- 
+nally paid bythelandlord. When acertain portion of the produce is 
+to be paid away for a tax, the farmer computes as well as he can, 
+what the value of this portion is, one year with another, likely to 
+amount to, and he makes a proportionable abatement in the rent 
+which heagreestopaytothelandlord.Thereisno farmer who does 
+not compute beforehand whatthechurch tythe, which isaland tax 
+of this kind, is, oneyear with another, likely to amount to. 
+
+Thetythe, and every other land tax of this kind, under the ap- 
+pearanceof perfect equality, are very unequal taxes; a certain por- 
+tion of the produce being in differrent situations, equivalent to a 
+very different portion of the rent. In some very rich lands, the 
+produce is so great, that the one half of it is fully sufficient to 
+replace to thefarmer hiscapital employed in cultivation, together 
+
+
+
+with the ordinary profits of farming stock in the neighbourhood. 
+Theother half, or, what comes to the samething, thevalueof the 
+other half, he could afford to pay as rent to the landlord, if there 
+was no tythe. But if a tenth of the produce is taken from him in 
+the way of tythe, he must require an abatement of the fifth part of 
+his rent, otherwise he cannot get back his capital with the ordi- 
+nary profit. In this case, the rent of thelandlord, instead of amount- 
+ing to a half, or five-tenths of the whole produce, will amount 
+only to four-tenths of it. In poorer lands, on the contrary, the 
+produce is sometimes so small, and the expense of cultivation so 
+great, that it requires four-fifths of the whole produce, to replace 
+to the farmer his capital with the ordinary profit. In this case, 
+though there was no tythe, the rent of the landlord could amount 
+to no more than one-fifth or two-tenths of the whole produce. 
+But if the farmer pays one-tenth of the produce in the way of 
+tythe, he must require an equal abatement of the rent of theland- 
+lord, which will thus be reduced to one-tenth only of the whole 
+produce. Upon the rent of rich landsthetythe may sometimes be 
+a tax of no more than one-fifth part, or four shillings in the pound; 
+whereas upon that of poorer lands, it may sometimes be a tax of 
+one half, or of ten shillings in the pound. 
+
+Thetythe, as it is frequently a very unequal tax upon the rent, so 
+it is always a great discouragement, both to the improvements of 
+
+
+
+686 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+the landlord, and to the cultivation of the farmer. The one cannot 
+venture to makethemost important, which are generally the most 
+expensive improvements; nor the other to raise the most valuable, 
+which aregenerally, too, the most expensivecrops; when thechurch, 
+which lays out no part of the expense, is to share so very largely in 
+the profit. T hecultivation of madder was, for a long time, confined 
+by the tythe to the United Provinces, which, being presbyterian 
+countries, and upon that account exempted from this destructive 
+tax, enjoyed a sort of monopoly of that useful dyeing drug against 
+therestof Europe. The I ate attempts to introduce thecultureof this 
+plant into England, have been made only in consequence of the 
+statute, which enacted that five shillings an acre should be received 
+in lieu of all manner of tythe upon madder. 
+
+As through the greater part of Europe, thechurch, so in many 
+different countries of Asia, the state, is principally supported bya 
+land tax, proportioned not to the rent, but to the produce of the 
+land. In China, theprincipal revenueof thesovereign consistsin a 
+tenth partof theproduceof all thelandsof theempire. Thistenth 
+part, however, isestimated so very moderately, that, in many prov- 
+inces, it is said not to exceed a thirtieth partof the ordinary pro- 
+duce. The land tax or land rent which used to be paid to the 
+M ahometan government of Bengal, before that country fell into 
+the hands of the English East India company, is said to have 
+
+
+
+amounted to about a fifth part of the produce. The land tax of 
+ancient Egypt is said likewise to have amounted to a fifth part. 
+
+In Asia, thissort of land tax issaid to interest thesovereign in the 
+improvement and cultivation of land. T h e sovereigns of C hina, those 
+of Bengal while under the M ahometan government, and those of 
+ancient Egypt, are said, accordingly, to have been extremely atten- 
+tive to the making and maintaining of good roads and navigable 
+canals, in order to increase, as much as possible, both the quantity 
+and value of every part of the produce of the land, by procuring to 
+every part of it the most extensive market which their own domin- 
+ionscould afford. Thetytheof thechurch isdivided into such small 
+portionsthat no one of its proprietors can have any interest of this 
+kind. The parson of a parish could never find his account, in mak- 
+ing a road or canal to a distant part of the country, in order to 
+extend the market for the produce of his own particular parish. 
+Such taxes, when destined for the maintenance of the state, have 
+someadvantages, which may servein somemeasureto balance their 
+inconveniency When destined for the maintenance of thechurch, 
+they are attended with nothing but inconveniency. 
+
+Taxes upon the produce of land may be levied, either in kind, 
+or, according to a certain valuation in money. 
+
+The parson of a parish, or a gentleman of small fortune who 
+lives upon his estate, may sometimes, perhaps find someadvan- 
+
+
+
+687 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+tagein receiving, theonehistythe, and theother hisrent, in kind. 
+The quantity to be collected, and thedistrict within which itisto 
+be collected, are so small, that they both can oversee, with their 
+own eyes, the collection and disposal of every part of what is due 
+to them. A gentleman of great fortune, who lived in the capital, 
+would bein danger of suffering much bytheneglect, and more by 
+the fraud, of his factors and agents, if the rents of an estate in a 
+distantprovinceweretobepaidtohiminthismanner.Thelossof 
+the sovereign, from the abuse and depredation of his tax-gather- 
+ers, would necessarily be much greater. The servants of the most 
+careless private person are, perhaps, more under the eye of their 
+master than those of the most careful prince; and a public rev- 
+enue, which was paid in kind, would suffer so much from the 
+mismanagement of the collectors, that a very small part of what 
+waslevied upon thepeoplewould ever arrive at thetreasury of the 
+prince. Somepartof thepublicrevenueof China, however, issaid 
+tobepaid in thismanner.Themandarinsand other tax-gatherers 
+will, no doubt, find their advantage in continuing the practiceof 
+a payment, which is so much more liable to abuse than any pay- 
+ment in money. 
+
+A tax upon the produce of land, which is levied in money, may 
+belevied, either according to a valuation, which varies with all the 
+variations of the market price; or according to a fixed valuation, a 
+
+
+
+bushel of wheat, for example, being always valued at oneand the 
+same money price, whatever may be the state of the market. T he 
+produce of a tax levied in theformer way will vary only according 
+to the variations in thereal produce of the land, according to the 
+improvement or neglect of cultivation. The produce of a tax lev- 
+ied in thelatter way will vary, not only according to the variations 
+in the produce of the land, but according both to those in the 
+value of the precious metals, and those in the quantity of those 
+metals which is at different times contained in coin of the same 
+denomination. The produce of the former will always bear the 
+same proportion to the value of the real produceof the land. T he 
+produce of the latter may, at different times, bear very different 
+proportions to that value. 
+
+When, instead either of a certain portion of theproduceof land, 
+or of th e pri ce of a certai n portion, acertain sum of moneyisto be 
+paid in full compensation for all tax or tythe; the tax becomes, in 
+this case, exactly of the same nature with the land tax of England. 
+It neither rises nor falls with the rent of the land. It neither en- 
+courages nor discourages improvement. T he tythe in the greater 
+part of thoseparishes which pay what iscalled a modus, in lieu of 
+all other tythe is a tax of this kind. D uring the M ahometan gov- 
+ernment of Bengal, instead of the payment in kind of the fifth 
+part of the produce, a modus, and, it issaid, a very moderate one, 
+
+
+
+688 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+was established in the greater part of the districts or zemindaries 
+of the country. Some of the servants of the East I ndia company, 
+under pretenceof restoring the public revenueto its proper value, 
+have, in some provinces, exchanged this modusfor a payment in 
+kind. Under their management, this change is likely both to dis- 
+courage cultivation, and to give new opportunities for abuse in 
+the collection of the public revenue, which has fallen very much 
+below what it was said to have been when it first fell under the 
+management of the company. T he servants of the company may, 
+perhaps, have profited by the change, but at the expense, it is 
+probable, both of their masters and of the country. 
+
+Taxes upon the Rent of H ouses. 
+
+Therentof ahousemaybedistinguished into two parts, of which 
+theonemay very properly be called the building-rent; theotheris 
+commonly called the ground-rent. 
+
+T he building-rent isthe interest or profit of thecapital expended 
+in building the house. In order to put thetrade of a builder upon 
+a level with other trades, it is necessary that this rent should be 
+sufficient, first, to pay him the same interest which hewould have 
+got for his capital, if he had lent it upon good security; and, sec- 
+ondly, to keep the house in constant repair, or, what comes to the 
+
+
+
+same thing, to replace, within a certain term of years, thecapital 
+which had been employed in building it. The building-rent, or 
+theordinary profit of building, is, therefore, everywhere regulated 
+by theordinary interest of money. W here themarket rate of inter- 
+est is four per cent, the rent of a house, which, over and above 
+paying the ground-rent, affordssix or six and a-half per cent, upon 
+the whole expense of building, may, perhaps, afford a sufficient 
+profit to the builder. W here the market rate of interest is five per 
+cent, it may perhaps require seven or seven and a half per cent. If, 
+in proportion to the interest of money, thetrade of the builders 
+affordsatanytimemuch greater profit than this, itwill soon draw 
+so much capital from other trades as will reduce the profit to its 
+proper level. If it affords at any time much less than this, other 
+trades will soon draw so much capital from it as will again raise 
+that profit. 
+
+W hatever part of the whole rent of a house is over and above 
+what is sufficient for affording this reasonable profit, naturally 
+goes to the ground-rent; and, where the owner of the ground and 
+the owner of the building are two different persons, is, in most 
+cases, completely paid to theformer. This surplus rent isthe price 
+which the inhabitant of the house pays for some real or supposed 
+advantage of the situation. I n country houses, at a distance from 
+any great town, where there is plenty of ground to chuse upon, 
+
+
+
+689 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+the ground-rent is scarce anything, or no more than what the 
+ground which the house stands upon would pay, if employed in 
+agriculture. In country villas, in the neighbourhood of somegreat 
+town, it is sometimes a good deal higher; and the peculiar 
+conveniency or beauty of situation is there frequently very well 
+paid for. Ground-rents are generally highest in thecapital, and in 
+those particular parts of it where there happens to be the greatest 
+demand for houses, whatever bethereason of that demand, whether 
+fortradeand business, for pleasure and society, or for mere vanity 
+and fashion. 
+
+A tax upon house-rent, payablebythetenant, and proportioned 
+to the whole rent of each house, could not, for any considerable 
+timeat least, affect thebuilding-rent. If thebuilder did not get his 
+reasonable profit, hewould be obliged toquitthetrade; which, by 
+raising the demand for building, would, in a short time, bring 
+back his profit to its proper level with that of other trades. N either 
+would such a tax fall altogether upon theground-rent; but it would 
+divideitself in such a manner, as to fall partly upon the inhabitant 
+of the house, and partly upon the owner of the ground. 
+
+Let ussuppose, for example, that a particular person judges that 
+he can afford for house-rent all expense of sixty pounds a-year; 
+and let us suppose, too, that a tax of four shillings in the pound, 
+or of one-fifth, payablebytheinhabitant, islaid upon house-rent. 
+
+
+
+A house of sixty pounds rent will, in that case, cost him seventy- 
+two pounds a-year, which is twelve pounds more than he thinks 
+he can afford. H e will, therefore, content himself with a worse 
+house, or a house of fifty pounds rent, which, with the additional 
+ten poundsthathemustpayforthetax, will makeup thesum of 
+sixty pounds a-year, the expense which he judges he can afford, 
+and, in orderto paythetax, hewill giveup apartof theadditional 
+conveniency which hemighthavehad from ahouse of ten pounds 
+a-year more rent. Hewill giveup, I say, apart of this additional 
+conveniency; for hewill sddom be obliged to give up the whole, 
+but will, in consequence of the tax, get a better house for fifty 
+pounds a-year, than he could have got if there had been no tax for 
+as a tax of this kind, by taking away this particular competitor, 
+must diminish thecompetition for houses of sixty pounds rent, so 
+it must likewise diminish it for those of fifty pounds rent, and in 
+the same manner for those of all other rents, except the lowest 
+rent, for which it would for some time increase the competition. 
+But the rents of every class of houses for which the competition 
+wasdiminished, would necessarily be more or less reduced. Asno 
+part of this reduction, however, could for any considerabletimeat 
+least, affect the building-rent, the whole of it must, in the long- 
+run, necessarily fall upon theground-rent. The final payment of 
+this tax, therefore, would fall partly upon the inhabitant of the 
+
+
+
+690 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+house, who, in order to pay his share, would be obliged to give up 
+a part of hisconveniency; and partly upon theowner of theground, 
+who, in order to pay his share, would be obliged to give up a part 
+of his revenue. In what proportion this final payment would be 
+divided between them, it is not, perhaps, very easy to ascertain. 
+The division would probably be very different in different cir- 
+cumstances, and a tax of this kind might, according to those dif- 
+ferent circumstances, affect very unequally, both theinhabitantof 
+the house and the owner of the ground. 
+
+Theinequality with which a tax of thiskind mightfall upon the 
+ownersof different ground-rents, would arise altogether from the 
+accidental inequality of thisdivision. But theinequality with which 
+it might fall upon theinhabitantsof different houses, would arise, 
+notonlyfrom this, but from another cause. The proportion of the 
+expense of house-rent to the whole expense of living, is different 
+in the different degrees of fortune. It is, perhaps, highest in the 
+highest degree, and it diminishes gradually through the inferior 
+degrees, so as in general to be lowest in the lowest degree. The 
+necessaries of life occasion the great expense of the poor. They 
+find it difficult to get food, and the greater part of their little rev- 
+enue is spent in getting it. The luxuries and vanities of life occa- 
+sion the principal expense of the rich; and a magnificent house 
+embellish es and sets off to thebest advantage all theother luxuries 
+
+
+
+and vanities which they possess. A tax upon house-rents, there- 
+fore, would in general fall heaviest upon the rich; and in this sort 
+of inequality there would not, perhaps, be any thing very unrea- 
+sonablelt isnotvery unreasonablethattherich should contribute 
+to the public expense, not only in proportion to their revenue, but 
+something more than in that proportion. 
+
+The rent of houses, though it in some respects resembles the 
+rent of land, isin onerespect essentially different from it.Therent 
+of land is paid for the use of a productive subject. The land which 
+pays it produces it. The rent of houses is paid for the use of an 
+unproductive subject. Neither the house, nor theground which it 
+stands upon, produce anything. The person who pays the rent, 
+therefore, must draw it from some other source of revenue, dis- 
+tinct from and independent of thissubject. A taxupon therent of 
+houses, so far asitfallsupon theinhabitants, must be drawn from 
+the same source as the rent itself, and must be paid from their 
+revenue, whether derived from the wages of labour, the profits of 
+stock, or the rent of land. So far as it falls upon the inhabitants, it 
+is one of those taxes which fall, not upon one only, but indiffer- 
+ently upon all the three different sources of revenue; and is, in 
+every respect, of the same nature as a tax upon any other sort of 
+consumable commodities. In general, there is not perhaps, any 
+one article of expense or consumption by which the liberality or 
+
+
+
+691 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+narrowness of a man's whole expense can be better judged of than 
+by his house-rent. A proportional tax upon this particular article 
+of expense might, perhaps, produce a more considerable revenue 
+than any which has hitherto been drawn from it in any part of 
+Europe. If thetax, indeed, was very high, thegreater part of people 
+would endeavour to evade it as much as they could, by contenting 
+themselves with smaller houses, and by turning thegreater part of 
+their expense into some other channel. 
+
+The rent of houses might easily be ascertained with sufficient 
+accuracy, by a policy of the same kind with that which would be 
+necessary for ascertaining the ordinary rent of land. H ouses not 
+inhabited ought to pay no tax. A tax upon them would fall alto- 
+gether upon the proprietor, who would thus be taxed for a subject 
+which afforded him neither conveniency nor revenue. Houses in- 
+habited by the proprietor ought to be rated, not according to the 
+expense which they might havecost in building, but according to 
+therentwhich an equitablearbitration mightjudgethem likely to 
+bring if leased to a tenant. If rated according to theexpense which 
+they might havecost in building, atax of three or four shillings in 
+the pound, joined with other taxes, would ruin almost all the rich 
+and great families of this, and, I believe, of every other civilized 
+country. Whoever will examine with attention the different town 
+and country houses of some of the richest and greatest families in 
+
+
+
+this country, will find that, at the rate of only six and a-half, or 
+seven percent, upontheoriginal expense of building, their house- 
+rent is nearly equal to the whole neat rent of their estates. It is the 
+accumulated expense of several successive generations, laid out 
+upon objects of great beauty and magnificence, indeed, but, in 
+proportion to what they cost, of very small exchangeable value. 
+{Since the first publication of this book, a tax nearly upon the 
+above-mentioned principles has been imposed.} 
+
+Ground-rents are a still more proper subject of taxation than 
+the rent of houses. A tax upon ground-rents would not raise the 
+rent of houses; it would fall altogether upon the owner of the 
+ground-rent, who acts always asa monopolist, and exacts the great- 
+est rent which can be got for the use of his ground. M ore or less 
+can be got for it, according as the competitors happen to be richer 
+or poorer, or can afford to gratify their fancy for a particular spot 
+of ground at a greater or smaller expense. In every country, the 
+greatest number of rich competitors is in the capital, and it is 
+there accordingly that the highest ground-rents are always to be 
+found. Asthe wealth of those competitors would in no respect be 
+increased by a tax upon ground-rents, they would not probably be 
+disposed to pay more for the use of the ground. W hether the tax 
+wastobeadvancedbytheinhabitantorbytheowneroftheground, 
+would beof littleimportance.Themoretheinhabitantwasobliged 
+
+
+
+692 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+to pay for thetax, the less he would incline to pay for the ground; 
+so that the final payment of thetax would fall altogether upon the 
+owner of theground-rent. T heground-rentsof uninhabited houses 
+ought to pay no tax. 
+
+Both ground-rents, and the ordinary rent of land, area species 
+of revenue which the owner, in many cases, enjoys without any 
+care or attention of hisown. Though apart of thisrevenueshould 
+betaken from him in order to defray the expenses of the state, no 
+discouragement will thereby be given to any sort of industry. The 
+annual produceof the land and labour of thesociety, thereal wealth 
+and revenue of the great body of the people, might be the same 
+after such a tax as before. G round-rents, and the ordinary rent of 
+land, are therefore, perhaps, the species of revenue which can best 
+bear to have a peculiar tax imposed upon them. 
+
+Ground-rents seem, in this respect, a more proper subject of 
+peculiar taxation, than even the ordinary rent of land. T he ordi- 
+nary rent of land is, in many cases, owing partly, at least, to the 
+attention and good management of the landlord. A very heavy tax 
+might discourage, too much, this attention and good manage- 
+ment. Ground-rents, so far as they exceed the ordinary rent of 
+land, are altogether owing to the good government of the sover- 
+eign, which, by protecting the industry either of the whole people 
+or of the inhabitants of some particular place, enables them to pay 
+
+
+
+so much more than its real valuefortheground which they build 
+their houses upon; or to make to its owner so much more than 
+compensation for thelosswhich hemight sustain bythisuseof it. 
+Nothing can be more reasonable, than that a fund, which owes its 
+existence to the good government of the state, should be taxed 
+peculiarly, or should contribute something more than the greater 
+part of other funds, towards the support of that government. 
+
+Though, in many different countries of Europe, taxeshave been 
+imposed upon the rent of houses, I do not know of any in which 
+ground-rents have been considered as a separate subject of taxa- 
+tion. Thecontri vers of taxeshave, probably, found somedifficulty 
+in ascertaining what part of the rent ought to be considered as 
+ground-rent, and what part ought to be considered as building- 
+rent. It should not, however, seem very difficult to distinguish 
+those two parts of the rent from one another. 
+
+I n Great Britain the rent of houses issupposed to be taxed in the 
+same proportion as the rent of land, by what is called the annual 
+land tax. Thevaluation, according to which each different parish 
+and district is assessed to this tax, isalwaysthesame. It was origi- 
+nally extremely unequal, and it still continues to be so. Through 
+the greater part of the kingdom this tax falls still more lightly 
+upon the rent of houses than upon that of land. In some few 
+districts only, which were originally rated high, and in which the 
+
+
+
+693 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+rents of houses have fallen considerably, the land tax of three or 
+four shillings in the pound issaid to amount to an equal propor- 
+tion of the real rent of houses. Untenanted houses, though bylaw 
+subject to the tax, are, in most districts, exempted from it by the 
+favour of the assessors; and this exemption sometimes occasions 
+some little variation in the rate of particular houses, though that 
+of the district is always the same. I mprovements of rent, by new 
+buildings, repairs, etc. go to the discharge of the district, which 
+occasions still further variations in the rate of particular houses. 
+In the province of Holland, {Memoiresconcernant les Droits, 
+etc. p. 223.}everyhouseistaxed at two and a-half percent, of its 
+value, without any regard, either to the rent which it actually pays, 
+or to the circumstance of its being ten anted or untenanted. There 
+seems to bea hardship in obliging the proprietor to pay a tax for 
+an untenanted house, from which hecan deriveno revenue, espe- 
+cially so very heavy a tax. In Holland, where the market rate of 
+interest does not exceed three per cent., two and a-half per cent, 
+uponthewholevalueofthehousemust, in most cases, amount to 
+more than a third of the building-rent, perhaps of the whole rent. 
+The valuation, indeed, according to which the houses are rated, 
+though very unequal, is said to be always below the real value. 
+When a house is rebuilt, improved, or enlarged, there is a new 
+valuation, and thetaxisrated accordingly. 
+
+
+
+The contrivers of the several taxes which in England have, at 
+different times, been imposed upon houses, seem to have imag- 
+ined that there was somegreat difficulty in ascertaining, with tol- 
+erable exactness, what was the real rent of every house. They have 
+regulated their taxes, therefore, according to some more obvious 
+circumstance, such as they had probably imagined would, in most 
+cases, bear some proportion to the rent. 
+
+The first tax of this kind was hearth-money; or a tax of two 
+shillingsupon every hearth. In order to ascertain how many hearths 
+were in the house, it was necessary that the tax-gatherer should 
+enter every room in it. This odious visit rendered the tax odious. 
+Soon after the Revolution, therefore, it was abolished as a badge 
+of slavery. 
+
+The next tax of this kind was a tax of two shillings upon every 
+dwelling-house inhabited. A house with ten windows to pay four 
+shillingsmore. A housewithtwentywindowsandupwardstopay 
+eight shillings. This tax was afterwards so far altered, that houses 
+with twenty windows, and with less than thirty, were ordered to 
+pay ten shillings, and those with thirty windows and upwards to 
+pay twenty shillings. The number of windows can, in most cases, 
+be counted from the outside, and, in all cases, without entering 
+every room in the house. T he visit of the tax-gatherer, therefore, 
+was I ess offensive in thistaxthan in the hearth-money. 
+
+
+
+694 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+This tax was afterwards repealed, and in the room of it was 
+established the window-tax, which has undergone two several al- 
+terations and augmentations. The window tax, as it stands at 
+present (January 1775), over and above theduty of three shillings 
+upon every house in England, and of oneshilling upon every house 
+in Scotland, lays a duty upon every window, which in England 
+augments gradually from twopence, the lowest rate upon houses 
+with not more than seven windows, to two shillings, the highest 
+rate upon houses with twenty-five windows and upwards. 
+
+The principal objection to all such taxes is their inequality; an 
+inequality of the worst kind, as they must frequently fall much 
+heavier upon the poor than upon the rich. A houseoften pounds 
+rent in acountrytown, may sometimeshave more windows than 
+a house of five hundred pounds rent in London; and though the 
+inhabitant of the former is likely to be a much poorer man than 
+that of the latter, yet, so far ashiscontribution isregulated by the 
+window tax, he must contribute more to the support of the state. 
+Such taxes are, therefore, directly contrary to the first of the four 
+maxims above mentioned. They do not seem to offend much 
+agai n st an y of th e oth er th ree. 
+
+The natural tendency of the window tax, and of all other taxes 
+upon houses, is to lower rents. The more a man pays for the tax, 
+the less, it is evident, he can afford to pay for the rent. Since the 
+
+
+
+imposition of the window tax, however, the rents of houses have, 
+upon the whole, risen more or less, in almost every town and vil- 
+lage of Great Britain, with which I am acquainted. Such has been, 
+almost everywhere, the increase of the demand for houses, that it 
+has raised the rents more than the window tax could sink them; 
+one of the many proofs of the great prosperity of the country, and 
+of the increasing revenue of its inhabitants. H ad it not been for 
+thetax, rents would probably have risen still higher. 
+
+ARTICLE II. — Taxes upon Profit, or upon the Revenue 
+arising from Stock. 
+
+T he revenue or profit arising from stock naturally divides itself 
+into two parts; that which pays the interest, and which belongs to 
+the owner of the stock; and that surplus part which is over and 
+above what is necessary for paying the interest. 
+
+This latter part of profit is evidently a subject not taxable di- 
+rectly. It is the compensation, and, in most cases, it is no more 
+than a very moderate compensation for the risk and trouble of 
+employing thestock.Theemployer must have this compensation, 
+otherwise he cannot, consistently with hisown interest, continue 
+the employment. If hewas taxed directly, therefore, in proportion 
+to the whole profit, hewould be obliged either to raise the rate of 
+his profit, or to charge the tax upon the interest of money; that is, 
+
+
+
+695 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+to pay less interest. If he raised the rate of his profit in proportion 
+to the tax, the whole tax, though it might be advanced by him, 
+would befinally paid by oneor other of two different sets of people, 
+according to the different ways in which he might employ the 
+stock of which he had the management. If he employed it as a 
+farming stock, in the cultivation of land, hecould raise the rate of 
+his profit only by retaining a greater portion, or, what comes to 
+the same thing, the price of a greater portion, of the produce of 
+theland; and asthiscould bedoneonly by a reduction of rent, the 
+final payment of the tax would fall upon the landlord. If heem- 
+ployed it as a mercantile or manufacturing stock, he could raise 
+the rate of his profit only by raising the price of his goods; in 
+which case, thefinal payment of thetax would fall altogether upon 
+the consumers of those goods. I f he did not raise the rate of his 
+profit, he would be obliged to charge the wholetax upon that part 
+of it which was allotted for the interest of money. H e could afford 
+less i nterest for whatever stock he borrowed, and the whole weight 
+of thetax would, in this case, fall ultimately upon the interest of 
+money. So far as he could not relieve himself from thetax in the 
+oneway, he would be obliged to relieve himself in the other. 
+
+The interest of money seems, at first sight, a subject equally 
+capableof beingtaxed directly as therent of land. Liketherentof 
+land, it is a neat produce, which remains, after completely corn- 
+
+
+
+pen sating thewholerisk and troubleof employing thestock. Asa 
+tax upon the rent of land cannot raise rents, because the neat pro- 
+duce which remains, after replacing the stock of the farmer, to- 
+gether with his reasonable profit, cannot be greater after the tax 
+than before it, so, for the same reason, a tax upon the interest of 
+money could not raise the rate of interest; thequantity of stock or 
+money in the country, like the quantity of land, being supposed 
+to remain the same after the tax as before it. T he ordinary rate of 
+profit, it has been shewn, in thefirstbook, is everywhere regulated 
+by the quantity of stock to be employed, in proportion to the 
+quantity of the employment, or of the business which must be 
+donebyit. Butthequantityoftheemployment, or of the business 
+to be done by stock, could neither be increased nor diminished by 
+any tax upon the i nterest of money. I f the quantity of the stock to 
+be employed, therefore, was neither increased nor diminished by 
+it, the ordinary rate of profit would necessarily remain the same. 
+Buttheportion of thisprofit, necessary for compensating the risk 
+and troubleof theemployer, would likewise remain thesame; that 
+risk and trouble being in no respect altered. The residue, there- 
+fore, that portion which belongs to the owner of the stock, and 
+which pays the interest of money, would necessarily remain the 
+same too. At first sight, therefore, the interest of money seems to 
+be a subject as fit to be taxed directly as the rent of land. 
+
+
+
+696 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+There are, however, two different circumstances, which render 
+the interest of money a much less proper subject of direct taxation 
+than the rent of land. 
+
+First, the quantity and value of the land which any man pos- 
+sesses, can never be a secret, and can always be ascertained with 
+great exactness. But the whole amount of the capital stock which 
+hepossessesisalmostalwaysasecret, and can scarceever be ascer- 
+tained with tolerable exactness. Itisliable, besides, to almost con- 
+tinual variations. A year seldom passes away, frequently not a 
+month, sometimes scarce a single day, in which it does not rise or 
+fall more or less. An inquisition into every man's private circum- 
+stances, and an inquisition which, in order to accommodate the 
+tax to them, watched overall thefluctuationsof hisfortune, would 
+be a source of such continual and endless vexation as no person 
+could support. 
+
+Secondly, land is a subject which cannot be removed; whereas 
+stock easily may. The proprietor of land is necessarily a citizen of 
+the particular country in which his estate lies. The proprietor of 
+stock is properly a citizen of the world, and is not necessarily at- 
+tached to any particular country. H e would be apt to abandon the 
+country in which he was exposed to a vexatious inquisition, in 
+order to be assessed to a burdensome tax; and would remove his 
+stock to some other country, where he could either carry on his 
+
+
+
+business, or enjoy hisfortune more at his ease. By removing his 
+stock, hewould put an end to all the industry which it had main- 
+tained in the country which he left. Stock cultivates land; stock 
+employs labour. A tax which tended to drive away stock from any 
+particular country, would so far tend to dry up every source of 
+revenue, both to the sovereign and to the society. N ot only the 
+profits of stock, but the rent of land, and the wages of labour, 
+would necessarily be more or less diminished by its removal. 
+
+The nations, accordingly, who have attempted to tax the rev- 
+enue arising from stock, instead of any severe inquisition of this 
+kind, have been obliged to content themselves with some very 
+loose, and, therefore, more or less arbitrary estimation. The ex- 
+treme inequality and uncertainty of a tax assessed in this manner, 
+can be compensated only by its extreme moderation; in conse- 
+quence of which, every man finds himself rated so very much 
+below his real revenue, that he gives himself little disturbance 
+though his neighbour should berated somewhat lower. 
+
+By what is called the land tax in England, it was intended that 
+the stock should be taxed in the same proportion as land. When 
+the tax upon land was at four shillings in the pound, or at one- 
+fifth of the supposed rent, it was intended that stock should be 
+taxed at one-fifth of the supposed interest. When the present an- 
+nual land tax was first imposed, the legal rate of interest was six 
+
+
+
+697 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+percent. Every hundred pounds stock, accordingly, was supposed 
+to be taxed at twenty-four shillings, the fifth part of six pounds. 
+Since the legal rate of interest has been reduced to five per cent, 
+every hundred pounds stock is supposed to be taxed at twenty 
+shillings only. The sum to be raised, by what is called the land tax, 
+was divided between the country and the principal towns The 
+greater part of it was laid upon the country; and of what was laid 
+upon the towns, the greater part was assessed upon the houses. 
+W hat remained to beassessed upon the stock or trade of thetowns 
+(for the stock upon the land was not meant to be taxed) was very 
+much below the real value of that stock or trade. W hatever in- 
+equalities, therefore, there might be in the original assessment, 
+gave little disturbance. Every parish and district still continues to 
+be rated for its land, its houses, and its stock, according to the 
+original assessment; and the almost universal prosperity of the 
+country, which, in most places, has raised very much the value of 
+all these, has rendered those inequalities of still less importance 
+now. The rate, too, upon each district, continuing always thesame, 
+the uncertainty of this tax, so far as it might he assessed upon the 
+stock of any individual, has been very much diminished, as well as 
+rendered of much less consequence. If the greater part of the lands 
+of England are not rated to the land tax at half their actual value, 
+the greater part of the stock of England is, perhaps, scarce rated at 
+
+
+
+the fiftieth part of its actual value. In sometowns, thewholeland 
+tax is assessed upon houses; as in Westminster, where stock and 
+trade are free. It is otherwise in London. 
+
+I n all countries, a severe inquisition into the circumstances of 
+private persons has been carefully avoided. 
+
+At H amburg, {M emoires concernant les Droits, torn, i, p.74} 
+every inhabitant isobliged to pay to the state one fourth percent, 
+of all that he possesses; and as the wealth of the people of H am- 
+burg consists principally in stock, this tax maybe considered as a 
+tax upon stock. Every man assesses himself, and, in the presence 
+of the magistrate, puts annually into the public coffer a certain 
+sum of money, which he declares upon oath,tobeonefourth per 
+cent, of all that hepossesses, but without declaring what it amounts 
+to, or being liableto any examination upon that subject. This tax 
+is generally supposed to be paid with great fidelity. I n a small re- 
+public, where the people have entire confidence in their magis- 
+trates, are convinced of the necessity of the tax for the support of 
+thestate, and believethatitwill befaithfully applied to that pur- 
+pose, such conscientious and voluntary payment may sometimes 
+be expected. 1 1 is not peculiar to the people of H amburg. 
+
+Thecanton of Underwald, in Switzerland, isfrequently ravaged 
+by storms and inundations, and it isthereby exposed to extraordi- 
+nary expenses. Upon such occasionsthepeopleassemble, and ev- 
+
+
+
+698 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+ery one is said to declare with the greatest frankness what he is 
+worth, in order to be taxed accordingly. At Zurich, the law orders, 
+that in cases of necessity, every one should be taxed in proportion 
+to his revenue; the amount of which heisobliged to declare upon 
+oath. They have no suspicion, it is said, that any of their fellow 
+citizens will deceive them. At Basil, the principal revenue of the 
+state arises from a small custom upon goods exported. All the 
+citizens make oath, that they will pay every three months all the 
+taxes imposed bylaw. All merchants, and even all inn-keepers, are 
+trusted with keeping themselves the account of the goods which 
+they sell, either within or without theterritory At theend of every 
+three months, they send this account to the treasurer, with the 
+amount of the tax computed at the bottom of it. It is not sus- 
+pected that the revenue suffers by this confidence. {M emoires 
+concernant les Droits, torn, i p. 163, 167,171.} 
+
+To oblige every citizen to declare publicly upon oath, theamount 
+of hisfortune, must not, it seems, in those Swiss cantons, be reck- 
+oned a hardship. At Hamburg it would be reckoned the greatest. 
+M erchants engaged in the hazardous projects of trade, all tremble 
+at the thoughts of being obliged, at all times, to expose the real 
+state of their circumstances. The ruin of their credit, and the mis- 
+carriage of their projects, they foresee, would too often be the 
+consequence. A sober and parsimonious people, who are strangers 
+
+
+
+to all such projects, do not feel that they have occasion for any 
+such concealment. 
+
+I n H olland, soon after the exaltation of the late prince of r- 
+ange to the stadtholdership, a tax of two per cent, or the fiftieth 
+penny, as it was called, was imposed upon the whole substance of 
+every citizen. Every citizen assesed himself, and paid histax, in the 
+same manner as at H amburg, and it was in general supposed to 
+have been paid with great fidelity. T he people had at that time the 
+greatest affection for their new government, which they had just 
+established by a general insurrection. The tax was to be paid but 
+once, in order to relieve the state in a particular exigency. It was, 
+indeed, too heavy to be permanent. In a country where the mar- 
+ket rate of interest seldom exceeds three per cent., a tax of two per 
+cent, amounts to thirteen shillings and four pence in the pound, 
+upon the highest neat revenue which is commonly drawn from 
+stock. It is a tax which very few people could pay, without en- 
+croaching more or less upon their capitals. In a particular exi- 
+gency, the people may, from great public zeal, make a great effort, 
+and give up even a part of their capital, in order to relieve the 
+state. But it is impossible that they should continue to do so for 
+any considerable time; and if they did, the tax would soon ruin 
+them so completely, as to render them altogether incapableof sup- 
+porting the state. 
+
+
+
+699 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+The tax upon stock, imposed by the land tax bill in England, 
+though it is proportioned to thecapital, isnot intended to dimin- 
+ish or, takeaway any part of that capital. It is meant only to bea 
+tax upon the interest of money, proportioned to that upon the 
+rent of land; so that when thelatterisat four shillings in thepound, 
+the former may be at four shillings in thepound too. The tax at 
+H amburg, and the still more moderate taxes of U nderwald and 
+Zurich, aremeant, in the same manner, to be taxes, not upon the 
+capital, but upon the interest or neat revenue of stock. That of 
+Holland was meant to be a tax upon thecapital. 
+
+Taxes upon the Profit of particular Employments. 
+
+In somecountries, extraordinary taxes areimposed upon theprofits 
+of stock; sometimes when employed in particular branchesof trade, 
+and sometimes when employed in agriculture. 
+
+Of the former kind, are in England, the tax upon hawkers and 
+pedlars, that upon hackney-coaches and chairs, and that which 
+the keepers of ale-houses pay for a licence to retail ale and spiritous 
+liquors. During the late war, another tax of the same kind was 
+proposed upon shops. The war having been undertaken, it was 
+said, in defence of the trade of the country, the merchants, who 
+were to profit by it, ought to contribute towards the support of it. 
+
+
+
+A tax, however, upon the profits of stock employed in any par- 
+ticular branch of trade, can never fall finally upon thedealers(who 
+must in all ordinary cases have their reasonable profit, and, where 
+the competition is free, can seldom have more than that profit), 
+but always upon the consumers, who must be obliged to pay in 
+thepriceofthegoodsthetax which thedealer advances; and gen- 
+erally with some overcharge. 
+
+A tax of this kind, when it is proportioned to the trade of the 
+dealer, is finally paid by the consumer, and occasions no oppres- 
+sion to thedealer. W hen it isnot so proportioned, but isthesame 
+upon all dealers, though in this case, too, it is finally paid by the 
+consumer, yet it favours the great, and occasionssomeoppression 
+to the small dealer. The tax of five shillings a-week upon every 
+hackney coach, and that of ten shillings a- year upon every hack- 
+ney chair, so far as it is advanced by the different keepers of such 
+coaches and chairs, is exactly enough proportioned to the extent 
+of their respective dealings. It neither favours the great, nor op- 
+presses the smaller dealer. The tax of twenty shillings a- year for a 
+licence to sell ale; of forty shillings for a licence to sell spiritous 
+liquors; and of forty shillingsmore for a licence to sell wine, being 
+the same upon all retailers, must necessarily give some advantage 
+to the great, and occasion some oppression to the small dealers. 
+Theformer must find it more easy to get back thetax in the price 
+
+
+
+700 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+of their goods than the latter. The moderation of thetax, however, 
+renders this inequality of less importance; and it may to many 
+people appear not improper to give some discouragement to the 
+multiplication of little ale-houses. The tax upon shops, it was in- 
+tended, should bethesameupon all shops. It could not well have 
+been otherwise. It would have been impossible to proportion, with 
+tolerable exactness, the tax upon a shop to the extent of the trade 
+carried on in it, without such an inquisition as would have been 
+altogether insupportable in a free country. If the tax had been 
+considerable, it would have oppressed the small, and forced al- 
+most the wholeretail trade into the hands of the great dealers. The 
+competition of theformer being taken away, the latter would have 
+enjoyed a monopoly of the trade; and, I ike all other monopolists, 
+would soon have combined to raise their profits much beyond 
+what was necessary for the payment of thetax. Thefinal payment, 
+instead of falling upon the shop-keeper, would have fallen upon 
+the consumer, with a considerable overcharge to the profit of the 
+shop-keeper. For these reasons, the project of a tax upon shops 
+was laid aside, and in the room of it was substituted the subsidy, 
+1759. 
+
+What in Franceiscalled thepersonal taille, is perhaps, the most 
+important tax upon the profits of stock employed in agriculture, 
+that is levied in any part of Europe. 
+
+
+
+I n the disorderly state of Europe, during the prevalence of the 
+feudal government, the sovereign was obliged to content himself 
+with taxing those who were too weak to refuse to pay taxes. T he 
+great lords, though willing to assist him upon particular emergen- 
+cies, refused to subject themselves to any constant tax, and he was 
+not strong enough to force them. The occupiers of land all over 
+Europe were, the greater part of them, originally bond-men. 
+T hrough the greater part of Europe, they were gradually emanci- 
+pated. Someof them acquired the property of landed estates, which 
+they held by some base or ignoble tenure, sometimes under the 
+king, and sometimes under some other great lord, liketheancient 
+copy-holders of England. Others, without acquiring the property, 
+obtained leases for terms of years, of the lands which they occu- 
+pied under their lord, and thus became less dependent upon him. 
+T he great lords seem to have beheld the degree of prosperity and 
+independency, which thisinferior order of men had thuscometo 
+enjoy, with a malignant and contemptuous indignation, and will- 
+ingly consented that the sovereign should tax them. In somecoun- 
+tries, this tax was confined to the lands which were held in prop- 
+erty by an ignoble tenure; and, in thiscase, thetaille was said to be 
+real. The land tax established by the late king of Sardinia, and the 
+taille in the provinces of Languedoc, Provence, Dauphine, and 
+Britanny; in the generality of Montauban, and in the elections of 
+
+
+
+701 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+Agen and Condom, as well as in some other districts of France; 
+are taxes upon lands held in property by an ignoble tenure. In 
+other countries, the tax was laid upon the supposed profits of all 
+those who held, in farm or lease, lands belonging to other people, 
+whatever might be thetenure by which the proprietor held them; 
+and in this case, the taille was said to be personal. In the greater 
+part of those provincesof France, which are called the countries of 
+elections, the taille is of this kind. T he real taille, as it is imposed 
+only upon a part of the lands of the country, is necessarily an 
+unequal, but it is not always an arbitrary tax, though it is so upon 
+someoccasions. Thepersonal taille, as it is intended to be propor- 
+tioned to the profits of a certain class of people, which can only be 
+guessed at, is necessarily both arbitrary and unequal. 
+
+In France, the personal taille at present (1775) annually im- 
+posed upon the twenty generalities, called the countries of elec- 
+tions, amounts to 40,107,239 livres, 16 sous. {Memoires 
+concernant les D roits, etc torn, ii, p.l7.}the proportion in which 
+this sum is assessed upon those different provinces, varies from 
+year to year, according to the reports which are madeto the king's 
+council concerning the goodness or badness of the crops, as well 
+asother circumstances, which may either increaseor diminish their 
+respective abilities to pay. Each generality isdivided into a certain 
+number of elections; and the proportion in which the sum im- 
+
+
+
+posed upon thewholegenerality isdivided among those different 
+elections, varies likewise from year to year, according to the re- 
+ports made to the council concerning their respective abilities. It 
+seems impossible, that the council, with the best intentions, can 
+ever proportion, with tolerable exactness, either of these two as- 
+sessments to thereal abilitiesoftheprovinceor district upon which 
+they are respectively laid. Ignorance and misinformation must al- 
+ways, more or less, mislead the most upright council. Thepropor- 
+tion which each parish ought to support of what is assessed upon 
+the whole election, and that which each individual ought to sup- 
+port of what is assessed upon his particular parish, are both in the 
+same manner varied from year to year, according as circumstances 
+are supposed to require. These circumstances arejudged of, in the 
+one case, by the officers of the election, in the other, by those of 
+theparish; and both theoneand theother are, more or less, under 
+the direction and influence of the intendant. Not only ignorance 
+and misinformation, but friendship, party animosity, and private 
+resentment, are said frequently to mislead such assessors. N o man 
+subject to such atax, it is evident, can ever be certain, beforeheis 
+assessed, of what he isto pay. Hecannoteven be certai n after he i s 
+assessed. If any person has been taxed who ought to have been 
+exempted, or if any person has been taxed beyond his proportion, 
+though both must pay in the mean time, yet if they complain, and 
+
+
+
+702 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+make good their complaints, the whole parish isreimposed next 
+year, in order to reimburse them. If any of the contributors be- 
+come bankrupt or insolvent, the collector is obliged to advance 
+his tax; and the whole parish is reimposed next year, in order to 
+reimburse the collector. If the collector himself should become 
+bankrupt, the parish which elects him must answer for his con- 
+duct to the receiver- general of the election. But, as it might be 
+troublesomefor thereceiver to prosecute thewholeparish, hetakes 
+at his choice five or six of the richest contributors, and obliges 
+them to make good what had been lost by the insolvency of the 
+collector. The parish is afterwards reimposed, in order to reim- 
+burse those five or six. Such reim positions are always over and 
+above the taille of the particular yearin which they arelaid on. 
+
+When a tax is imposed upon the profits of stock in a particular 
+branch of trade, the traders are all careful to bring no more goods 
+to market than what they can sell at a price sufficient to reimburse 
+them from advancing the tax. Some of them withdraw a part of 
+their stocks from the trade, and the market is more sparingly sup- 
+plied than before. The price of the goods rises, and the final pay- 
+ment of the tax falls upon the consumer. But when a tax is im- 
+posed upon the profits of stock employed in agriculture, it is not 
+the interest of the farmers to withdraw any part of their stock 
+from that employment. Each farmer occupies a certain quantity 
+
+
+
+of land, for which he pays rent. For the proper cultivation of this 
+land, a certain quantity of stock is necessary; and by withdrawing 
+any part of this necessary quantity, the farmer is not likely to be 
+more able to pay either the rent or thetax. I n order to pay the tax, 
+it can never be his interest to diminish the quantity of his pro- 
+duce, nor consequently to supply themarket more sparingly than 
+before. Thetax, therefore, will never enablehim to raise theprice 
+of his produce, so as to reimburse himself, by throwing the final 
+paymentupon theconsumer.Thefarmer, however, musthavehis 
+reasonable profit as well as every other dealer, otherwise he must 
+giveupthetrade. Aftertheimposition of ataxof thiskind, hecan 
+get this reasonable profit only by paying less rent to the landlord. 
+The more he is obliged to pay in the way of tax, the less he can 
+afford to pay in the way of rent. A tax of thiskind, imposed dur- 
+ing the currency of a lease, may, no doubt, distress or ruin the 
+farmer. Upon the renewal of the lease, it must always fall upon the 
+landlord. 
+
+In thecountrieswherethepersonal tailletakesplace, thefarmer 
+iscommonly assessed in proportion to thestock which heappears 
+to employ in cultivation. H eis, upon thisaccount, frequently afraid 
+to havea good team of horses or oxen, but endeavours to cultivate 
+with the meanest and most wretched instruments of husbandry 
+that hecan. Such is his distrust in thejusticeof hisassessors, that 
+
+
+
+703 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+he counterfeits poverty, and wishes to appear scarce able to pay 
+anything, for fear of being obliged to pay too much. By this mis- 
+erablepolicy, hedoesnot, perhaps, always consult his own inter- 
+est in the most effectual manner; and he probably loses more by 
+the diminution of his produce, than he saves by that of his tax. 
+Though, in consequence of this wretched cultivation, the market 
+is, no doubt, somewhat worse supplied; yet the small rise of price 
+which this may occasion, as it is not likely even to indemnify the 
+farmer for the diminution of his produce, it is still less likely to 
+enablehimtopaymorerenttothelandlord.Thepublicthefarmer, 
+the landlord, all suffer more or less by this degraded cultivation. 
+T hat the personal tailletends, in many different ways, to discour- 
+age cultivation, and consequently to dry up the principal source 
+of the wealth of every great country, I have already had occasion 
+to observe in thethird book of this Inquiry. 
+
+W hat are called poll-taxes in the southern provinces of N orth 
+America, and the West India islands, annual taxes of so much a- 
+head upon every negro, are properly taxes upon the profits of a 
+certain species of stock employed in agriculture. As the planters, 
+are the greater part of them, both farmers and landlords, thefinal 
+payment of the tax falls upon them in their quality of landlords, 
+without any retribution. 
+
+Taxes of so much a head upon the bondmen employed in culti- 
+
+
+
+vation, seem anciently to have been common all over EuropeThere 
+subsists at present a tax of this kind in the empire of Russia. It is 
+probably upon thisaccount that poll-taxes of all kinds have often 
+been represented as badges of slavery. Every tax, however, is, to the 
+person who pays it, a badge, not of slavery, but of liberty. It de- 
+notes that he is subject to government, indeed; but that, ashehas 
+some property, he cannot himself be the property of a master. A 
+poll tax upon slaves is altogether different from a poll-tax upon 
+freemen. The latter is paid by the persons upon whom it is im- 
+posed; the former, by a different set of persons. T he latter is either 
+altogether arbitrary, or altogether unequal, and, in most cases, is 
+both the one and the other; the former, though in some respects 
+unequal, different slaves being of different values, is in no respect 
+arbitrary. Every master, who knows the number of hisown slaves, 
+knows exactly what he has to pay. T hose different taxes, however, 
+being called by the same name, have been considered as of the 
+same nature. 
+
+The taxes which in Holland are imposed upon men and maid 
+servants, are taxes, not upon stock, but upon expense; and so far 
+resemble the taxes upon consumable commodities. T he tax of a 
+guinea a-head for every man-servant, which has lately been im- 
+posed in Great Britain, is of the same kind. It falls heaviest upon 
+themiddling rank. A man of two hundred a-year may keep asingle 
+
+
+
+704 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+man-servant. A man often thousand a-year will not keep fifty. It 
+does not affect the poor. 
+
+Taxesupon the profits of stock, in particular employments, can 
+never affect the interest of money. N obody will lend his money 
+for less interest to those who exercise the taxed, than to those who 
+exercise the untaxed employments. Taxes upon the revenue aris- 
+ing from stock in all employments, where thegovernment attempts 
+to levy them with any degree of exactness, will, in many cases, fall 
+upon theinterestof money.Thevingtieme, or twentieth penny, in 
+France, is a tax of the same kind with what iscalled the land tax in 
+England, and is assessed, in the same manner, upon the revenue 
+arising upon land, houses, and stock. So far as it affects stock, it is 
+assessed, though not with great rigour, yet with much more exact- 
+ness than that part of the land tax in England which is imposed 
+upon the same fund. It, in many cases, falls altogether upon the 
+interest of money. M oney isfrequently sunk in France, upon what 
+are called contractsfortheconstitution of a rent; that is, perpetual 
+annuities, redeemableatanytimebythedebtor, upon payment of 
+the sum originally advanced, but of which this redemption is not 
+exigible by the creditor except in particular cases. The vingti erne 
+seems not to have raised the rate of those annuities, though it is 
+exactly levied upon them all. 
+
+
+
+APPENDIX TO ARTICLES I. AND II.- Taxes upon the 
+Capital Value of Lands, H ouses, and Stock. 
+
+While property remains in the possession of the same person, 
+whatever permanent taxes may have been imposed upon it, they 
+have never been intended to diminish or takeaway any part of its 
+capital value, but only some part of the revenue arising from it. 
+But when property changes hands, when it is transmitted either 
+from the dead to the living, or from the living to the living, such 
+taxes have frequently been imposed upon it as necessarily take 
+away some part of its capital value. 
+
+T he transference of all sorts of property from the dead to the 
+living, and that of immoveable property of land and houses from 
+the living to the living, are transactions which are in their nature 
+either public and notorious, or such as cannot belong concealed. 
+Such transactions, therefore, may be taxed directly. The transfer- 
+ence of stock or moveable property, from the living to the living, 
+by the lending of money, is frequently a secret transaction, and 
+may always be made so. It cannot easily, therefore, be taxed di- 
+rectly. It has been taxed indirectly in two different ways; first, by 
+requiring that thedeed, containing theobligation to repay, should 
+be written upon paper or parchment which had paid a certain 
+stamp duty, otherwise not to be valid; secondly, by requiring, un- 
+
+
+
+705 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+der the like penalty of invalidity, that it should be recorded either 
+in a public or secret register, and by imposing certain duties upon 
+such registration. Stamp duties, and duties of registration, have 
+frequently been imposed likewiseupon thedeedstransf erring prop- 
+erty of all kindsfrom thedead to theliving, and upon those trans- 
+ferring immoveable property from the living to the living; trans- 
+actions which might easily have been taxed directly. 
+
+The vicesima hereditatum, or the twentieth penny of inherit- 
+ances, imposed by Augustus upon the ancient Romans, was a tax 
+upon the transference of property from the dead to the living. 
+Dion Cassius, {Lib. 55. See also Burman. de Vectigalibus Pop. 
+Rom. cap. xi. and Bouchaud deTimpot du vingtiemesur lessuc- 
+cessions.}theauthor who writes concerning it theleast indistinctly, 
+says, that it was imposed upon all successions, legacies and dona- 
+tions, in case of death, except upon those to the nearest rdations, 
+and to the poor. 
+
+Of the same kind is the Dutch tax upon successions. {See 
+Memoiresconcernant les Droits, etc. torn i, p. 225.} Collateral 
+successions are taxed accordingto thedegreeof relation, from five 
+to thirty per cent, upon the whole value of the succession. Testa- 
+mentary donations, or legacies to collaterals, aresubjecttothelike 
+duties. Those from husband to wife, or from wife to husband, to 
+the fiftieth penny. The luctuosa hereditas, the mournful succes- 
+
+
+
+sion of ascendants to descendants, to the twentieth penny only. 
+Direct successions, or those of descendants to ascendants, pay no 
+tax. The death of a father, to such of his children as live in the 
+same house with him, issddom attended with any increase, and 
+frequently with aconsiderablediminution of revenue; bytheloss 
+of his industry, of his office, or of some life-rent estate, of which 
+he may have been in possession. That tax would becrud and op- 
+pressive, which aggravated thar loss, by taking from them any part 
+of his succession. It may, however, sometimes be otherwise with 
+those children, who, in the language of the Roman law, are said to 
+be emancipated; in that of the Scotch law, to be foris-familiated; 
+that is, who have recaved their portion, have got families of their 
+own, and aresupported byfundsseparateand independent of those 
+of their father. W hatever part of his succession might come to such 
+children, would beareal addition to tharfortune, and might, there- 
+fore, perhaps, without more inconveniency than what attends all 
+duties of this kind, beliabletosometax. 
+
+T he casualties of the feudal law were taxes upon the transfer- 
+enceof land, both from thedead to theliving, and from theliving 
+to the living. In ancient times, they constituted, in every part of 
+Europe, one of the principal branches of therevenueof thecrown. 
+
+T he heir of every immediate vassal of the crown paid a certain 
+duty, generally a year's rent, upon recaving the investiture of the 
+
+
+
+706 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+estate. I f the heir was a minor, the whole rents of the estate, during 
+the continuance of theminority, devolved to the superior, without 
+any other charge besides the maintenance of the minor, and the 
+payment of the widow's dower, when therehappened to beadowa- 
+ger upon the land. W hen the minor cameto de of age, another tax, 
+called relief, was still dueto thesuperior, which generally amounted 
+likewiseto ayear's rent. A long minority, which, in the present times, 
+so frequently disburdens a great estate of all its incumbrances, and 
+restores the family to their ancient splendour, could in those times 
+have no such effect. The waste, and notthedisincumbranceof the 
+estate, was the common effect of a long minority. 
+
+By a feudal law, the vassal could not alienate without the con- 
+sent of his superior, who generally extorted a fine or composition 
+on granting it. This fine, which was at first arbitrary, came, in 
+many countries, to be regulated at a certain portion of thepriceof 
+the land. I n some countries, where the greater part of the other 
+feudal customs have gone into disuse, thistaxupon thealienation 
+of land still continues to make a very considerable branch of the 
+revenue of the sovereign. In the canton of Berne it is so high as a 
+sixth part of thepriceof all noble fiefs, and a tenth part of that of 
+all ignobleones. {M emoiresconcernant lesD roits, etc, tom.i p.154} 
+I n the canton of Lucern, the tax upon the sale of land is not uni- 
+versal, and takes place only in certain districts. But if any person 
+
+
+
+sells his land in order to remove out of the territory, he pays ten 
+percent, upon thewholepriceof thesale. {id. p.l57.}Taxesof the 
+same kind, upon the sale either of all lands, or of lands held by 
+certain tenures, take place in many other countries, and make a 
+more or less considerable branch of the revenue of the sovereign. 
+
+Such transactions may be taxed indirectly, by means either of 
+stamp duties, or of duties upon registration; and those duties ei- 
+ther may, or may not, be proportioned to the value of the subject 
+which is transferred. 
+
+In Great Britain, the stamp duties are higher or lower, not so 
+much accordingtothevalueof theproperty transferred (an eigh- 
+teen-penny or half-crown stamp being sufficient upon a bond for 
+the largest sum of money), as according to the nature of the deed. 
+T he highest do not exceed six pounds upon every sheet of paper, 
+or skin of parchment; and thesehigh dutiesfall chiefly upon grants 
+from the crown, and upon certain law proceedings, without any 
+regard to the value of the subject. There are, in Great Britain, no 
+duties on the registration of deeds or writings, except the fees of 
+the officers who keep theregister; and these are seldom more than 
+a reasonable recom pence for their labour. The crown derives no 
+revenue from them. 
+
+In Holland {M emoiresconcernant les Droits, etc. tom.i. p 223, 
+224, 225.}there are both stamp duties and duties upon registra- 
+
+
+
+707 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+tion; which in some cases are, and in some are not, proportioned 
+to the value of the property transferred. All testaments must be 
+written upon stamped paper, of which the price is proportioned 
+to the property disposed of; so that there are stamps which cost 
+from three pence or three stivers a-sheet, to three hundred florins, 
+equal to about twenty-seven poundsten shillings of our money. If 
+the stamp isof an inferior price to what thetestator ought to have 
+made use of, his succession is confiscated. This is over and above 
+all their other taxes on succession. Except bills of exchange, and 
+someother mercantile bills, all other deeds, bonds, and contracts, 
+are subject to a stamp duty. This duty, however, does not rise in 
+proportion to the value of the subject. All sales of land and of 
+houses, and all mortgages upon either, must be registered, and, 
+upon registration, pay a duty to the state of two and a- half per 
+cent, upon the amount of the price or of the mortgage. T his duty 
+is extended to the sale of all ships and vessels of more than two 
+tons burden, whether decked or undecked. These, it seems, are 
+considered asasort of housesupon thewater.Thesaleof moveables, 
+when it isordered by a court of justice, issubject to thelikeduty 
+of two and a-half per cent. 
+
+In France, there are both stamp dutiesanddutiesupon registra- 
+tion. The former are considered as a branch of the aids of excise, 
+and, in the provinces where those duties take pi ace, are levied by 
+
+
+
+the excise officers. The latter are considered as a branch of the 
+domain of the crown and are levied by a different set of officers. 
+
+T hose modes of taxation by stamp duties and by duties upon 
+registration, are of very modern invention. In the course of little 
+more than a century, however, stamp duties have, in Europe, be- 
+comealmost universal, and duties upon registration extremely com- 
+mon. T here is no art which one government sooner learns of an- 
+other, than that of draining money from thepockets of thepeople. 
+
+Taxes upon the transference of property from the dead to the 
+living, fall finally, aswdl asimmediatdy, upon thepersonsto whom 
+the property is transferred. Taxes upon the sale of land fall alto- 
+gether upon thesdler.Thesdlerisalmost always under the neces- 
+sity of sd ling, and must, therefore, take such a price as he can get. 
+The buyer is scarce ever under the necessity of buying, and will, 
+therefore, only give such apriceashelikes. H e considers what the 
+land will cost him, in tax and price together.Themoreheisobliged 
+to pay in the way of tax, the less he will be disposed to give in the 
+way of price. Such taxes, therefore, fall almost always upon a ne- 
+cessitous person, and must, therefore, be frequently very crud and 
+oppressive. Taxes upon the sale of new-built houses, where the 
+building issold withouttheground, fall generally upon thebuyer, 
+because the builder must generally have his profit; otherwise he 
+must give up thetrade. If he advances the tax, therefore, thebuyer 
+
+
+
+708 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+must generally repay it to him. Taxes upon the sale of old houses, 
+for the same reason as those upon the sale of land, fall generally 
+upon the seller; whom, in most cases, either conveniency or ne- 
+cessity obliges to sell. The number of new-built houses that are 
+annually brought to market, is more or less regulated by the de- 
+mand. Unless thedemand issuch as to afford thebuilder hisprofit, 
+after paying all expenses, he will build no more houses. The num- 
+ber of old houses which happen at any time to come to market, is 
+regulated by accidents, of which the greater part have no relation 
+to the demand. Two or three great bankruptcies in a mercantile 
+town, will bring many houses to sale, which must be sold for what 
+can be got for them. Taxes upon the saleof ground-rents fall alto- 
+gether upon the seller, for the same reason as those upon the sale 
+of lands. Stamp duties, and duties upon the registration of bonds 
+and contracts for borrowed money, fall altogether upon the bor- 
+rower, and, in fact, are always paid by him. D uties of the same 
+kind upon law proceedings fall upon the suitors. They reduce to 
+both the capital value of the subject in dispute. The more it costs 
+to acquire any property, the less must be the neat value of it when 
+acquired. 
+
+All taxesupon the transference of property of every kind, so far 
+as they diminish thecapital valueof that property, tend to dimin- 
+ish the funds destined for the maintenance of productive labour. 
+
+
+
+They are all more or I ess unthrifty taxes that in crease the revenue 
+of the sovereign, which seldom maintains any but unproductive 
+labourers, at the expense of thecapital of the people, which main- 
+tains none but productive. 
+
+Such taxes, even when they are proportioned to the value of the 
+property transferred, are still unequal; the frequency of transfer- 
+ence not being always equal in property of equal value. When 
+they arenot proportioned to this value, which isthe case with the 
+greater part of thestamp duties and dutiesof registration, they are 
+still more so. They are in no respect arbitrary, but are, or may be, 
+in all cases, perfectly clear and certain. Though they sometimes 
+fall upon the person who is not very able to pay, thetimeof pay- 
+ment is, in most cases, sufficiently convenient for him. When the 
+payment becomes due, he must, in most cases, have the more to 
+pay. They are levied at very little expense, and in general subject 
+the contributors to no other inconveniency, besides always the 
+unavoidable one of paying the tax. 
+
+I n France, thestamp duties are not much complained of. Those 
+of registration, which they call theControle, are. They give occa- 
+sion, it ispretended, to much extortion in theofficersof thefarm- 
+ers-general who collect the tax, which is in a great measure arbi- 
+trary and uncertain. In the greater part of the libels which have 
+
+
+
+709 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+been written against the present system of finances in France, the 
+abuses of the control e make a principal article. Uncertainty, how- 
+ever, doesnot seem to benecessarily inherent in thenature of such 
+taxes. If thepopular complaints are well founded, the abusemust 
+arise, not so much from the nature of the tax as from the want of 
+precision and distinctness in the words of the edicts or lawswhich 
+impose it. 
+
+The registration of mortgages, and in general of all rights upon 
+immoveable property, as it gives great security both to creditors 
+and purchasers, is extremely advantageous to the public. That of 
+thegreater part of deedsof other kinds, isfrequently inconvenient 
+and even dangerousto individuals, without any advantage to the 
+public. All registers which, it is acknowledged, ought to be kept 
+secret, ought certainly never to exist. The credit of individuals 
+ought certainly never to depend upon so very slender a security, as 
+the probity and religion of the inferior officers of revenue. But 
+where the fees of registration have been made a source of revenue 
+to the sovereign, register-offices have commonly been multiplied 
+without end, both for thedeeds which ought to be registered, and 
+for those which ought not. In France there are several different 
+sorts of secret registers. This abuse, though not perhaps a neces- 
+sary, it must be acknowledged, isa very natural effect of such taxes. 
+
+Such stamp duties as those in England upon cards and dice, 
+
+
+
+upon newspapersand periodical pamphlets, etc. are properly taxes 
+upon consumption; thefinal payment falls upon the persons who 
+use or consume such commodities. Such stamp duties as those 
+upon licences to retail ale, wine, and spiritous liquors, though 
+intended, perhaps, to fall upon theprofits of theretailers, arelike- 
+wise finally paid by the consumers of those liquors Such taxes, 
+though called by the same name, and levied by the same officers, 
+and in the same manner with the stamp duties above mentioned 
+upon the transference of property, are, however, of a quite differ- 
+ent nature, and fall upon quite different funds. 
+
+ARTICLE III. — Taxes upon the Wages of Labour. 
+
+The wages of the inferior classes of work men, I have endeav- 
+oured to show in the first book are everywhere necessarily regu- 
+lated by two different circumstances; the demand for labour, and 
+theordinary or average price of provisions. Thedemand for labour, 
+according as it happens to be either increasing stationary or de- 
+clining; or to require an increasing, stationary, or declining popu- 
+lation, regulates the subsistence of thelabourer, and determinesin 
+what degree it shall be either liberal, moderate, or scanty. The 
+ordinary average price of provisions determines the quantity of 
+money which must be paid to the workman, in order to enable 
+him, oneyear with another, to purchase this liberal, moderate, or 
+
+
+
+710 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+scanty subsistence. W hilethedemand for the labour and the price 
+of provisions, therefore, remain the same, a direct tax upon the 
+wagesof labour can have no other effect, than to raise them some- 
+what higher than the tax. Let us suppose, for example, that, in a 
+particular place, the demand for labour and the price of provi- 
+sionsweresuch as to render ten shillings a-weektheordinary wages 
+of labour; and thatatax of one-fifth, orfour shillingsin thepound, 
+was imposed upon wages. If the demand for labour and the price 
+of provisions remained the same, it would still be necessary that 
+the labourer should, in that place, earn such a subsistence ascould 
+be bought only for ten shillings a-week; so that, after paying the 
+tax, he should have ten shillings a-week free wages. But, in order 
+to leave him such free wages, after paying such a tax, the price of 
+labour must, in that place, soon rise, nottotwelveshillingsaweek 
+only, but to twelve and sixpence; that is, in order to enable him to 
+pay a tax of one-fifth, his wages must necessarily soon rise, not 
+one-fifth part only, but one-fourth. Whatever was theproportion 
+of the tax, the wages of labour must, in all cases rise, not only in 
+that proportion, but in a higher proportion. I fthetax for example, 
+was one-tenth, the wages of labour must necessarily soon rise, not 
+one-tenth part only, but one-eighth. 
+
+A direct tax upon the wages of labour, therefore, though the 
+labourer might, perhaps, pay it out of his hand, could not prop- 
+
+
+
+erly be said to be even advanced by him; at least if thedemand for 
+labour and theaveragepriceof provisionsremained thesameafter 
+the tax as before it. In all such cases, not only the tax, but some- 
+thing more than the tax, would in reality be advanced bytheper- 
+son who immediately employed him. The final payment would, 
+in different cases, fall upon different persons. The rise which such 
+a tax might occasion in the wages of manufacturing labour would 
+be advanced by the master manufacturer, who would both be en- 
+titled and obliged to charge it, with a profit, upon the price of his 
+goods. The final payment of this rise of wages, therefore, together 
+with the additional profit of the master manufacturer would fall 
+upon the consumer. T he rise which such a tax might occasion in 
+the wages of country labour would be advanced by the farmer, 
+who, in order to maintain the same number of labourers as be- 
+fore, would be obliged to employ a greater capital. In order to get 
+back thisgreater capital, together with theordinary profitsof stock, 
+it would be necessary that he should retain a larger portion, or, 
+what comes to the same thing, the priceof a larger portion, of the 
+produce of the land, and, consequently, that he should pay less 
+rent to the landlord. T hefinal payment of this rise of wages, there- 
+fore, would, in thiscase, fall upon thelandlord, together with the 
+additional profit of thefarmer who had advanced it. In all cases, a 
+direct tax upon the wages of labour must, in the long-run, occa- 
+
+
+
+711 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+sion both a greater reduction in the rent of land, and a greater rise 
+in the price of manufactured goods than would have followed 
+from the proper assessment of a sum equal to the produce of the 
+tax, partly upon the rent of land, and partly upon consumable 
+commodities. 
+
+If direct taxes upon the wages of labour have not always occa- 
+sioned aproportionablerisein thosewages, itisbecause they have 
+generally occasioned a considerable fall in the demand of labour. 
+The declension of industry, the decrease of employment for the 
+poor, thediminution of theannual produce of the land and labour 
+of the country, have generally been the effects of such taxes. In 
+consequence of them, however, the price of labour must always be 
+higher than itotherwisewould have been in theactual state of the 
+demand; and this enhancement of price, together with the profit 
+of those who advance it, must always be finally paid by the land- 
+lords and consumers. 
+
+A tax upon the wages of country labour does not raise the price 
+of the rude produce of land in proportion to thetax; for thesame 
+reason that a tax upon the farmer's profit does not raise that price 
+in that proportion. 
+
+Absurd and destructive as such taxes are, however, they take 
+placein many countries. In France, that part of thetaille which is 
+charged upon theindustry of workmen and day-labourersin coun- 
+
+
+
+try villages, is properly a tax of this kind. Their wages are com- 
+puted according to the common rateof the district in which they 
+reside; and, that they may be aslittleliableaspossibleto any over- 
+charge, their yearly gains are estimated at no more than two hun- 
+dred working days in the year. {M emoiresconcernant les Droits, 
+etc. torn. ii. p. 108.}Thetaxofeach individual isvaried from year 
+to year, according to different circumstances, of which thecollec- 
+tor or the commissary, whom intendant appoints to assist him, 
+are the judges. In Bohemia, in consequence of the alteration in 
+thesystem of finances which was begun in 1748, a very heavy tax 
+is imposed upon the industry of artificers. They aredivided into 
+four dasses.Thehighest class payahundredflorinsayear, which, 
+at two-and-twenty pence half penny a-florin, amounts to £9:7:6. 
+The second class are taxed at seventy; the third at fifty; and the 
+fourth, comprehending artificers in villages, and the lowest class 
+of those in towns, at twenty-five florins. {M emoires concemant 
+les Droits, etc. torn. iii. p. 87.} 
+
+Therecompenceof ingeniousartists, and of men of liberal pro- 
+fessions, I have endeavoured to show in thefirst book, necessarily 
+keepsa certain proportion to theemolumentsof inferior trades. A 
+tax upon this recompence, therefore, could have no other effect 
+than to raise it somewhat higher than in proportion to thetax. If 
+it did not rise in this manner, the ingenious arts and the liberal 
+
+
+
+712 
+
+
+
+Adam 
+
+professions, being; no longer upon a level with other trades, would 
+be so much deserted, that they would soon return to that level. 
+
+Theemolumentsof offices arenot, likethoseof trades and pro- 
+fessions, regulated by the free competition of the market, and do 
+not, therefore, always bear a just proportion to what the nature of 
+the employment requires. They are, perhaps, in most countries, 
+higher than it requires; the persons who have the administration 
+of government being generally disposed to regard both themselves 
+and their immediate dependents, rather more than enough. The 
+emoluments of offices, therefore, can, in most cases, very well bear 
+to be taxed. The persons, besides, who enjoy public offices, espe- 
+cially the more lucrative, are, in all countries, the objects of gen- 
+eral envy; and a tax upon their emoluments, even though it should 
+be somewhat higher than upon any other sort of revenue, is al- 
+ways a very popular tax. In England, for example, when, by the 
+land-tax, every other sort of revenue was supposed to be assessed 
+at four shillingsin thepound, it was very popular to layareal tax 
+of five shillings and sixpence in the pound upon the salaries of 
+offices which exceeded a hundred pounds a-year; the pensions of 
+the younger branches of the royal family, the pay of the officers of 
+the army and navy, and a few others less obnoxious to envy, ex- 
+cepted. There are in England no other direct taxes upon the wages 
+of labour. 
+
+
+
+Smith 
+
+ARTICLE IV. — Taxes which it isintended should fall in- 
+differently upon every different Species of Revenue. 
+
+The taxes which it is intended should fall indifferently upon 
+every different species of revenue, are capitation taxes, and taxes 
+upon consumablecommodities.Thosemust be paid indifferently, 
+from whatever revenue the contributors may possess; from the 
+rent of their land, from the profits of their stock, or from the 
+wages of their labour. 
+
+Capitation Taxes. 
+
+Capitation taxes, if it is attempted to proportion them to thefor- 
+tuneor revenue of each contributor, become altogether arbitrary. 
+The state of a man's fortune varies from day to day; and, without 
+an inquisition, moreintolerablethan any tax, and renewed at least 
+once every year, can only be guessed at. H isassessment, therefore, 
+must, in most cases, depend upon thegood or bad humour of his 
+assessors, and must, therefore, be altogether arbitrary and uncer- 
+tain. 
+
+Capitation taxes, if they are proportioned, not to the supposed 
+fortune, but to the rank of each contributor, become altogether 
+unequal; the degrees of fortune being frequently unequal in the 
+same degree of rank. 
+
+
+
+713 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+Such taxes, therefore, if it is attempted to render them equal, 
+become altogether arbitrary and uncertain; and if it is attempted 
+to render them certain and not arbitrary, become altogether un- 
+equal. Let the tax be light or heavy, uncertainty is always a great 
+grievance. In a light tax, a considerable degree of inequality may 
+be supported; in a heavy one, it is altogether intolerable. 
+
+In the different poll-taxes which took place in England during 
+the reign of William 1 1 1, the contributors were, the greater part of 
+them, assessed according to the degree of their rank; as dukes, 
+marquises, earls, viscounts, barons, esquires, gentlemen, the el- 
+dest and youngest sons of peers, etc. All shop-keepers and trades- 
+men worth more than three hundred pounds, that is, the better 
+sort of them, weresubject to the same assessment, how great soever 
+might be the difference in their fortunes. Their rank was more 
+considered than their fortune. Several of those who, in the first 
+poll-tax, were rated according to their supposed fortune were af- 
+terwards rated according to their rank. Serjeants, attorneys, and 
+proctors at law, who, in the first poll-tax, were assessed at three 
+shillings in the pound of their supposed income, were afterwards 
+assessed as gentlemen. I n the assessment of a tax which was not 
+very heavy, a considerable degree of inequality had been found 
+less insupportable than any degree of uncertainty. 
+
+In thecapitation which has been levied in France, without-any 
+
+
+
+interruption, sincethebeginning of thepresent century, thehigh- 
+est orders of peopleare rated accordingtotheirrank, by an invari- 
+able tariff; the lower orders of people, according to what is sup- 
+posed to be their fortune, by an assessment which varies from year 
+to year. The officers of the king's court, thejudges, and other of- 
+ficers in the superior courts of justice, the officers of the troops, 
+etc are assessed in thefirst manner.Theinferior ran ksof peoplein 
+the provinces are assessed inthesecond. In France, the great easily 
+submitto aconsiderabledegreeof inequality in atax which, so far 
+as it affects them, is not a very heavy one; but could not brook the 
+arbitrary assessment of an intendant. 
+
+The inferior ranks of people must, in that country, suffer pa- 
+tiently the usage which their superiors think proper to give them. 
+
+In England, the different poll-taxes never produced the sum 
+which had been expected from them, or which it was supposed 
+they might have produced, had they been exactly levied. In France, 
+thecapitation alwaysproducesthesum expected from it.Themild 
+government of England, when it assessed the different ranks of 
+people to the poll-tax, contented itself with what that assessment 
+happened to produce, and required no compensation for the loss 
+which the state might sustain, either by those who could not pay, 
+or by those who would not pay (for there were many such), and 
+who, by the indulgent execution of the law, were not forced to 
+
+
+
+714 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+pay. The more severe government of France assesses upon each 
+generality a certain sum, which theintendant must find ashecan. 
+If any province complains of being assessed too high, it may, in 
+theassessment of next year, obtain an abatement proportioned to 
+the overcharge of the year before; but it must pay in the mean 
+time. T he intendant, in order to be sure of finding the sum as- 
+sessed upon his generality, was empowered to assess it in a larger 
+sum, that thefailure or inability of someofthecontributorsmight 
+be compensated by the overcharge of the rest; and till 1765, the 
+fixation of this surplus assessment was I eft altogether to hisdiscre- 
+tion. In that year, indeed, thecouncil assumed thispower to itself. 
+I n the capitation of the provinces, it is observed by the perfectly 
+well informed author of the M emoirs upon the Impositions in 
+France, the proportion which falls upon the nobility, and upon 
+those whose privileges exempt them from the taille, is the least 
+considerable. T he largest falls upon thosesubject to thetaille, who 
+are assessed to the capitation at so much a-pound of what they 
+pay to that other tax. 
+
+Capitation taxes, so far as they are levied upon the lower ranks 
+of people, are direct taxes upon the wages of labour, and are at- 
+tended with all theinconvenienciesof such taxes. 
+
+Capitation taxes are levied at little expense; and, where they are 
+rigorously exacted, afford a very sure revenue to the state. It is 
+
+
+
+upon thisaccountthat, in countries where thecase, comfort, and 
+security of the inferior ranks of peoplearelittleattendedto, capi- 
+tation taxes are very common. Itisin general, however, butasmall 
+part of the public revenue, which, in a great empire, has ever been 
+drawn from such taxes; and thegreatest sum which they have ever 
+afforded, might always have been found in someother way much 
+more convenient to the people. 
+
+Taxes upon Consumable Commodities. 
+
+Theimpossibility of taxingthe people, in proportion to their rev- 
+enue, by any capitation, seems to have given occasion to the in- 
+vention of taxes upon consumable commodities. The state not 
+knowing how to tax, directly and proportionably, the revenue of 
+its subjects, endeavoursto tax it indirectly by taxing their expense, 
+which, it is supposed, will, in most cases, be nearly in proportion 
+to their revenue. Their expense is taxed, by taxing theconsumable 
+commodities upon which it is laid out. 
+
+C onsumable commodities are either necessaries or luxuries. 
+
+By necessaries I understand, not only the commodities which 
+are indispensibly necessary for the support of life, but whatever 
+thecustom of thecountry renders it indecent for creditable people, 
+even of the lowest order, to be without. A linen shirt, for example, 
+
+
+
+715 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+is, strictly speaking, not a necessary of life. The Greeks and Ro- 
+manslived, I suppose, very comfortably, though they had no linen. 
+But in the present times, through the greater part of Europe, a 
+creditable day-labourer would be ashamed to appear in public 
+without a linen shirt, the want of which would be supposed to 
+denote that disgraceful degree of poverty, which, it is presumed, 
+nobody can well fall into without extreme bad conduct. Custom, 
+in the same manner, has rendered leather shoes a necessary of life 
+in England. Thepoorestcreditableperson, of either sex, would be 
+ashamed to appear in public without them. I n Scotland, custom 
+has rendered them a necessary of life to the lowest order of men; 
+but not to the same order of women, who may, without any dis- 
+credit, walk about barefooted. In France, they are necessaries nei- 
+ther to men nor to women; the lowest rank of both sexes appear- 
+ing there publicly, without any discredit, sometimes in wooden 
+shoes, and sometimes barefooted. Under necessaries, therefore, I 
+comprehend, not onlythose things which nature, butthose things 
+which the established rulesof decency have rendered necessary to 
+the lowest rank of people. All other things I call luxuries, without 
+meaning, by this appellation, to throw the smallest degree of re- 
+proach upon the temperate use of them. Beer and ale, for example, 
+in Great Britain, and wine, even in the wine countries, I call luxu- 
+ries. A man of any rank may, without any reproach, abstain totally 
+
+
+
+from tasting such liquors. Nature does not render them necessary 
+for thesupport of life; and custom nowhere renders it indecent to 
+live without them. 
+
+As the wages of labour are everywhere regulated, partly by the 
+demand for it, and partly by the average price of the necessary 
+articles of subsistence; whatever raises thisaveragepricemust nec- 
+essarily raise those wages; so that the labourer may still beableto 
+purchase that quantity of those necessary articles which the state 
+of the demand for labour, whether increasing, stationary, or de- 
+clining, requires that he should have. {See book i.chap. 8} A tax 
+upon those articles necessarily raises their price somewhat higher 
+than the amount of the tax, because the dealer, who advances the 
+tax, must generally get it back, with a profit. Such a tax must, 
+therefore, occasion a risein the wages of labour, proportionableto 
+this rise of price. 
+
+Itisthusthatataxupon the necessaries of life operates exactly 
+in the same manner as a direct tax upon the wages of labour. T he 
+labourer, though he may pay it out of his hand, cannot, for any 
+considerable time at least, be properly said even to advance it. It 
+must always, in thelong-run, be advanced to him byhisimmedi- 
+ateemployer, in theadvanced state of wages. H isemployer, if heis 
+a manufacturer, will chargeupon thepriceof hisgoodstheriseof 
+wages, together with a profit, so that the final payment of the tax, 
+
+
+
+716 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+together with this overcharge, will fall upon theconsumer. If his 
+employer is a farmer, the final payment, together with a like over- 
+charge, will fall upon the rent of the landlord. 
+
+It is otherwise with taxes upon what I call luxuries, even upon 
+those of the poor. T he rise in the price of the taxed commodities, 
+will not necessarily occasion any rise in the wages of labour. A tax 
+upon tobacco, for example, though a luxury of the poor, as well as 
+of therich, will not raise wages. Though it istaxed in England at 
+three times, and in France at fifteen times its original price, those 
+high duties seem to have no effect upon the wages of labour. The 
+same thing maybe said of the taxes upon tea and sugar, which, in 
+England and Holland, have become luxuries of the lowest ranks 
+of people; and of those upon chocolate, which, in Spain, issaid to 
+have become so. 
+
+The different taxes which, in Great Britain, have, in thecourseof 
+the present century, been imposed upon spiritous liquors, are not 
+supposed to have had any effect upon the wages of labour. T he rise 
+in the price of porter, occasioned by an additional tax of three shil- 
+lings upon the barrel of strong beer, has not raised the wages of 
+common labour in London. These were about eighteen pence or 
+twenty pence a-day before the tax, and they are not more now. 
+
+The high price of such commodities does not necessarily di- 
+minish theability of the inferior ran ksof peopleto bring up fami- 
+
+
+
+lies. Upon the sober and industrious poor, taxes upon such com- 
+modities act as sumptuary laws, and dispose them either to mod- 
+erate, or to refrain altogether from the use of superfluities which 
+they can no longer easily afford. Their ability to bring up families, 
+in consequence of this forced frugality, instead of being dimin- 
+ished, is frequently, perhaps, increased by the tax. It is the sober 
+and industrious poor who generally bring up the most numerous 
+families, and who principally supply thedemand for useful labour. 
+All the poor, indeed, are not sober and industrious; and the disso- 
+lute and disorderly might continue to indulge themselves in the 
+useof such commodities, after this rise of price, in thesame man- 
+ner as before, without regarding the distress which thisindulgence 
+might bring upon their families. Such disorderly persons, how- 
+ever, seldom rear up numerous families, their children generally 
+perishing from neglect, mismanagement, and the scantiness or 
+unwholesomeness of their food. If by the strength of their consti- 
+tution, they survive the hardships to which the bad conduct of 
+their parents exposes them, yet the example of that bad conduct 
+commonly corrupts their morals; so that, instead of being useful 
+to society by their industry, they becomepublicnuisancesby their 
+vices and disorders. Through theadvanced price of theluxuriesof 
+the poor, therefore, might increase somewhat the distress of such 
+disorderly families, and thereby diminish somewhat their ability 
+
+
+
+717 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+to bring up children, it would not probably diminish much the 
+useful population of the country. 
+
+Anyrisein the average price of necessaries, unless it Decompen- 
+sated byaproportionableriseinthewages of labour, must neces- 
+sarily diminish, more or less, the ability of the poor to bring up 
+numerous families, and, consequently, to supply the demand for 
+useful labour; whatever may be the state of that demand, whether 
+increasing, stationary, or declining; or such as requires an increas- 
+ing, stationary, or declining population. 
+
+Taxes upon luxuries have no tendency to raise the price of any 
+other commodities, except that of the commodities taxed. Taxes 
+upon necessaries, by raising the wages of labour, necessarily tend 
+to raise thepriceof all manufactures, and consequently to dimin- 
+ish the extent of their sale and consumption. Taxes upon luxuries 
+are finally paid by theconsumersof thecommodities taxed, with- 
+out any retribution. They fall indifferently upon every species of 
+revenue, the wages of labour, the profits of stock, and the rent of 
+land. Taxes upon necessaries, so far as they affect the labouring 
+poor, are finally paid, partly by landlords, in the diminished rent 
+of their lands, and partly by rich consumers, whether landlordsor 
+others, in the advanced price of manufactured goods; and always 
+with aconsiderableoverchargeTheadvanced priceof such manu- 
+factures as are real necessaries of life, and aredestined forthecon- 
+
+
+
+sumption of the poor, of coarse woollens, for example, must be 
+compensated to the poor by a farther advancement of thei r wages. 
+The middling and superior ranks of people, if they understood 
+their own interest, ought always to oppose all taxes upon the nec- 
+essaries of life, as well as all taxes upon the wages of labour. The 
+final payment of both the one and the other falls altogether upon 
+themselves, and always with a considerable overcharge. They fall 
+heaviest upon the landlords, who always pay in adoublecapacity; 
+in that of landlords, by the reduction, of their rent; and in that of 
+rich consumers, by theincreaseof their expense. The observation 
+of Sir M atthew D ecker, that certain taxes are, in the price of cer- 
+tain goods, sometimes repeated and accumulated fourorfivetimes, 
+is perfectly just with regard to taxes upon the necessariesof life. I n 
+thepriceof leather, for example, you must pay not only for thetax 
+upon the leather of your own shoes, but for a part of that upon 
+those of the shoemaker and the tanner. You must pay, too, for the 
+tax upon the salt, upon the soap, and upon the candles which 
+those workmen consume whileemployed in your service; and for 
+the tax upon the leather, which the saltmaker, the soap-maker, 
+and the candle-maker consume, whileemployed in their service. 
+In Great Britain, the principal taxes upon the necessaries of life, 
+are those upon the four commodities just now mentioned, salt, 
+leather, soap, and candles. 
+
+
+
+718 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+Salt is a very ancient and a very universal subject of taxation. It 
+was taxed among the Romans, and it is so at present in, I believe, 
+every part of Europe. The quantity annually consumed by any 
+individual is so small, and may be purchased so gradually, that 
+nobody, it seems to have been thought, could feel very sensibly 
+even a pretty heavy tax upon it. It is in England taxed at three 
+shillings and fourpence a bushel; about three times the original 
+price of the commodity. In some other countries, the tax is still 
+higher. Leather is a real necessary of life. The use of linen renders 
+soap such. In countries where thewinter nights are long, candles 
+are a necessary instrument of trade. Leather and soap are in Great 
+Britain taxed atthreehalfpencea-pound; candlesatapenny; taxes 
+which, upon the original price of leather, may amount to about 
+eight or ten per cent.; upon that of soap, to about twenty or five 
+and-twenty per cent.; and upon that of candles to about fourteen 
+or fifteen per cent.; taxes which, though lighter than that upon 
+salt, are still very heavy. As all those four commodities are real 
+necessaries of life, such heavy taxes upon them must increase some 
+what the expense of the sober and industrious poor, and must 
+consequently raise more or less the wages of their labour. 
+
+In a country where the winters are so cold as in Great Britain, 
+fuel is, during that season, in the strictest sense of the word, a 
+necessary of life, not only for the purpose of dressing victuals, but 
+
+
+
+for the comfortable subsistence of many different sorts of work- 
+men who work within doors; and coals are the cheapest of all fuel. 
+Thepriceof fuel has so important an influenceupon that of labour, 
+that all over Great Britain, manufactures haveconfined themselves 
+principally to the coal counties; other parts of the country, on 
+account of the high price of this necessary article, not being able 
+to work so cheap. I n some manufactures, besides, coal is a neces- 
+sary instrument of trade; as in those of glass, iron, and all other 
+metals. If a bounty could in any case be reasonable, it might per- 
+haps be so upon the transportation of coals from those parts of 
+the country in which they abound, to those in which they are 
+wanted. But the legislature, instead of abounty, hasimposed atax 
+of threeshillingsand threepence a-ton upon coalscarried coastways; 
+which, upon most sorts of coal, is more than sixty per cent, of the 
+original price at the coal pit. Coalscarried, either by land or by 
+inland navigation, pay no duty. Where they are naturally cheap, 
+they are consumed duty free; where they are naturally dear, they 
+are loaded with a heavy duty. 
+
+Such taxes, though they raise the price of subsistence, and con- 
+sequently the wages of labour, yet they afford a considerable rev- 
+enue to government, which it might not be easy to find in any 
+other way. There may, therefore, be good reasons for continuing 
+them. T he bounty upon theexportation of corn, so far us it tends, 
+
+
+
+719 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+in the actual state of tillage, to raise the price of that necessary 
+article, produces all the like bad effects; and instead of affording 
+any revenue, frequently occasions a very great expense to govern- 
+ment.Thehigh dutiesupon theimportation of foreign corn, which, 
+in years of moderate plenty, amount to a prohibition; and the 
+absolute prohibition of theimportation, either of live cattle, or of 
+salt provisions, which takes place in the ordinary state of the law, 
+and which, on account of the scarcity, is at present suspended for 
+a limited time with regard to Ireland and the British plantations, 
+have all had the bad effects of taxes upon the necessaries of life, 
+and produce no revenueto government. Nothing seems necessary 
+for the repeal of such regulations, but to convince the public of 
+thefutilityof that system in consequenceof which they have been 
+established. 
+
+Taxes upon the necessaries of life aremuch higher in many other 
+countries than in Great Britain. Dutiesupon flour and meal when 
+ground at the mill, and upon bread when baked at the oven, take 
+placein many countries. In Holland themoney-priceof the: bread 
+consumed in towns is supposed to be doubled by means of such 
+taxes. In lieu of a part of them, the people who live in the country, 
+pay every year so much a-head, according to the sort of bread they 
+are supposed to consume. Those who consume wheaten bread 
+pay threeguilders fifteen stivers; about six shillings and ninepence 
+
+
+
+halfpenny. T hose, and some other taxes of the same kind, by rais- 
+ing the price of labour, are said to have ruined the greater part of 
+the manufactures of H olland {M emoires concernant les D roits, 
+etc. p. 210, 211.}. Similar taxes, though not quite so heavy, take 
+place in the M ilanese, in the states of Genoa, in the duchy of 
+M odena, in the duchies of Parma, Placentia, and Guastalla, and 
+the Ecclesiastical state. A French author {LeReformateur}of some 
+note, has proposed to reform the finances of his country, by sub- 
+stituting in the room of the greater part of other taxes, this most 
+ruinousof all taxes.Thereisnothing so absurd, saysCicero, which 
+has not sometimes been asserted by some philosophers. 
+
+Taxes upon butcher's meat are still more common than those 
+upon bread. It may indeed bedoubted, whether butcher's meat is 
+any where a necessary of life. Grain and other vegetables, with the 
+help of milk, cheese, and butter, or oil, where butter is not to be 
+had, it is known from experience, can, without any butcher's meat, 
+afford the most plentiful, the most wholesome, the most nourish- 
+ing, and the most invigorating diet. Decency nowhere requires 
+that any man should eat butcher's meat, as it in most places re- 
+quires that heshould wear a linen shirt or a pair of leather shoes. 
+
+Consumablecommodities, whether necessariesor luxuries, may 
+be taxed in two different ways. The consumer may either pay an 
+annual sum on account of his using or consuming goods of a 
+
+
+
+720 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+certain kind; or the goods may be taxed whilethey remain in the 
+handsof thedealer, and beforethey aredelivered totheconsumer. 
+The consumable goods which last a considerabletime beforethey 
+are consumed altogether, are most properly taxed in the one way; 
+those of which the consumption is either immediate or more 
+speedy, in the other. The coach-tax and plate tax are examples of 
+the former method of imposing; the greater part of the other du- 
+ties of excise and customs, of the latter. 
+
+A coach may, with good management, last ten or twelve years. It 
+might be taxed, once for all, beforeit comes out of the handsof the 
+coach-maker. But it is certainly more convenient for the buyer to 
+pay four pounds a-year for the privilege of keeping a coach, than to 
+pay all at once forty or forty-eight pounds additional price to the 
+coach-maker; or a sum equivalent to what the tax is likely to cost 
+him duringthetimeheusesthesamecoach. A serviceof platein the 
+samemanner, may last more than a century. Itiscertainly-easierfor 
+the consumer to pay five shillings a-year for every hundred ounces 
+of plate, near one per cent, of the value, than to redeem this long 
+annuity at five-and-twenty or thirty years purchase, which would 
+enhance the price at least five-and-twenty or thirty per cent. The 
+different taxes which affect houses, are certainly more conveniently 
+paid by moderate annual payments, than by a heavy tax of equal 
+value upon thefirst building or sale of the house. 
+
+
+
+It was the well-known proposal of Sir M atthew Decker, that all 
+commodities, even those of which the consumption is either im- 
+mediate or speedy, should be taxed in this manner; thedealer ad- 
+vancing nothing, but the consumer paying a certain annual sum 
+for thelicencetoconsumecertain goods. Theobject of hisscheme 
+was to promote all the different branches of foreign trade, par- 
+ticularly thecarrying trade, by taking away all dutiesupon impor- 
+tation and exportation, and thereby enabling the merchant to 
+employ his whole capital and credit in the purchaseof goods and 
+the freight of ships, no part of either being diverted towards the 
+advancing of taxes, The project, however, of taxing, in this man- 
+ner, goods of immediate or speedy consumption, seems liable to 
+thefour following very important objections. First, the tax would 
+be more unequal, or not so well proportioned to the expense and 
+consumption ofthedifferentcontributors, asintheway in which 
+it is commonly imposed. The taxes upon ale, wine, and spiritous 
+liquors, which are advanced bythedealers, are finally paid by the 
+different consumers, exactly in proportion to their respective con- 
+sumption. Butifthetaxweretobepaid by purchasing a licenceto 
+drink those liquors, the sober would, in proportion to his con- 
+sumption, be taxed much more heavily than the drunken con- 
+sumer. A family which exercised great hospitality, would be taxed 
+much more lightly than one who entertained fewer guests. Sec- 
+
+
+
+721 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+ondly, this mode of taxation, bypayingforan annual, half-yearly, 
+or quarterly licence to consume certain goods, would diminish 
+very much one of the principal conveniences of taxes upon goods 
+of speedy consumption; the piece-meal payment. In the price of 
+threepence halfpenny, which is at present paid for a pot of porter, 
+the different taxes upon malt, hops, and beer, together with the 
+extraordinary profit which thebrewer chargesfor having advanced 
+than, may perhaps amount to about three halfpence. If a work- 
+man can conveniently spare those three halfpence, he buys a pot 
+of porter. If he cannot, he contents himself with a pint; and, as a 
+pennysaved isapennygot, hethusgainsa farthing by histemper- 
+ance. H e pays the tax piece-meal, as he can afford to pay it, and 
+when he can afford to pay it, and every act of payment is perfectly 
+voluntary, and what he can avoid if he chusesto do so. Thirdly, 
+such taxes would operate less as sumptuary laws. When the li- 
+cence was once purchased, whether the purchaser drunk much or 
+drunk little, his tax would be the same. Fourthly, if a workman 
+were to pay all at once, by yearly, half-yearly, or quarterly pay- 
+ments, a tax equal to what he at present pays, with little or no 
+inconveniency, upon all thedifferent pots and pintsof porter which 
+he drinks in any such period of time, the sum might frequently 
+distresshim very much. Thismodeof taxation, therefore, itseems 
+evident, could never, without the most grievous oppression, pro- 
+
+
+
+duce a revenue nearly equal to what is derived from the present 
+modewithout any oppression. In several countries, however, com- 
+modities of an immediate or very speedy consumption are taxed 
+in this manner. In Holland, people pay so much a-head for a li- 
+cence to drink tea. I have already mentioned a tax upon bread, 
+which, so far as it is consumed in farm houses and country vil- 
+lages, istherelevied in the same manner. 
+
+T he duties of excise are imposed chiefly upon goods of home 
+produce, destined for homeconsumption. They areimposed only 
+upon a few sorts of goods of the most general use.Therecan never 
+be any doubt, either concerning the goods which are subject to 
+thoseduties, or concerning the particular duty which each species 
+of goods issubject to. T hey fall almost altogether upon whatl call 
+luxuries, excepting always the four duties above mentioned, upon 
+salt, soap, leather, candles, and perhaps that upon green glass. 
+
+The duties of customs are much more ancient than those of 
+excise. They seem to have been called customs, as denoting cus- 
+tomary payments, which had been in use for time immemorial. 
+They appear to have been originally considered astaxesupon the 
+profits of merchants. During the barbarous times of feudal anar- 
+chy, merchants, likeall theother inhabitantsof burghs, werecon- 
+sidered as little better than emancipated bondmen, whose persons 
+were despised, and whose gains were envied. The great nobility, 
+
+
+
+722 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+who had consented thattheking should tall age the profits of their 
+own tenants, were not unwilling that he should tallage likewise 
+those of an order of men whom it was much less their interest to 
+protect. I n those ignorant times, it was not understood, that the 
+profits of merchants are a subject not taxable directly; or that the 
+final payment of all such taxes must fall, withaconsiderableover- 
+charge, upon the consumers. 
+
+The gains of alien merchants were looked upon more 
+unfavourably than those of English merchants. It was natural, there 
+fore, that those of the former should be taxed more heavily than 
+those of thelatter. Thisdistinction between thedutiesupon aliens 
+and those upon English merchants, which was begun from igno- 
+rance, has been continued front the spirit of monopoly, or in or- 
+der to give our own merchants an advantage, both in the home 
+and in theforeign market. 
+
+W ith this distinction, the ancient duties of customs were im- 
+posed equally upon all sorts of goods, necessaries as well its luxu- 
+ries, goods exported as well as goods imported. Why should the 
+dealers in one sort of goods, it seems to have been thought, be 
+more favoured than those in another? or why should the mer- 
+chant exporter be more favoured than the merchant importer? 
+
+T heancient customs weredivided into threebranches. The first, 
+and, perhaps, the most ancient of all those duties, was that upon 
+
+
+
+wool and leather. It seems to have been chiefly or altogether an 
+exportation duty. When the woollen manufacture came to be es- 
+tablished in England, lest the king should lose any part of his 
+customs upon wool by the exportation of woollen cloths, a like 
+duty wasimposed upon them. Theother two brancheswere, first, 
+a duty upon wine, which being imposed at so much a-ton, was 
+called atonnage; and, secondly, adutyupon all other goods, which 
+being imposed at so much a-pound of their supposed value, was 
+called a poundage. I n theforty-seventh year of Edward 1 1 1 ., a duty 
+of sixpence in the pound was imposed upon all goods exported 
+and imported, except wools, wool-felts, leather, and wines which 
+were subject to particular duties. In thefourteenth of Richard II., 
+thisduty was raised to one shilling in thepound; but, three years 
+afterwards, it was again reduced to sixpence. It was raised to 
+eightpencein thesecond year of Henry IV.; and, in thefourth of 
+the same prince, to one shilling. From this time to the ninth year 
+of William III., this duty continued at one shilling in thepound. 
+The duties of tonnage and poundage were generally granted to 
+the king by one and the same act of parliament, and were called 
+the subsidy of tonnage and poundage. T he subsidy of poundage 
+having continued for so long a time at one shilling in thepound, 
+or at five per cent., a subsidy came, in the language of the cus- 
+toms, to denote a general duty of this kind of five per cent. This 
+
+
+
+723 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+subsidy, which is now called the old subsidy, still continues to be 
+levied, according to thebook of rates established bythetwelfth of 
+Charles II. The method of ascertaining, by a book of rates, the 
+valueof goodssubjecttothisduty, issaid to be older than thetime 
+of James I. The new subsidy, imposed bytheninth and tenth of 
+W illiam III., was an additional five per cent, upon thegreater part 
+of goods. The one-third and the two-third subsidy made up be- 
+tween them another five per cent, of which they were proportion- 
+able parts. T he subsidy of 1747 made a fourth five per cent, upon 
+the greater part of goods; and that of 1759, a fifth upon some 
+particular sorts of goods. Besides those five subsidies, a great vari- 
+ety of other duties have occasionally been imposed upon particu- 
+lar sorts of goods, in order sometimes to relieve the exigence's of 
+the state, and sometimes to regulate the trade of the country, ac- 
+cording to the principles of the mercantile system. 
+
+That system has come gradually more and more into fashion. 
+The old subsidy was imposed indifferently upon exportation, as 
+well asimportation.Thefour subsequent subsidies, aswdl as the 
+other duties which have since been occasionally imposed upon 
+particular sorts of goods, have, with a few exceptions, been laid 
+altogether upon importation. The greater part of the ancient du- 
+ties which had been imposed upon the exportation of the goods 
+of home produce and manufacture, haveatherbeen lightened or 
+
+
+
+taken away altogether. I n most cases, they have been taken away. 
+Bounties have even been given upon the exportation of some of 
+them. D rawbacks, too, sometimes of thewhole, and, in most cases, 
+of a part of the duties which are paid upon the importation of 
+foragn goods, have been granted upon thar exportation. Only 
+half the duties imposed bytheold subsidy upon importation, are 
+drawn back upon exportation; but the whole of those imposed by 
+the latter subsidies and other imposts are, upon the greater parts 
+of thegoods, drawn back in thesamemanner.Thisgrowingfavour 
+of exportation, and discouragement of importation, have suffered 
+only a few exceptions, which chiefly concern the materialsof some 
+manufactures. These our merchants and manufacturers are willing 
+should come as cheap as possible to themsdves, and asdearaspos- 
+sibletotheir rivalsand competitorsin other countries. Foreign ma- 
+terials are, upon this account, sometimes allowed to be imported 
+duty-free; Spanish wool, for example, flax, and raw linen yarn. The 
+exportation of the materials of home produce, and of those which 
+aretheparticularproduceof our colonies, has sometimes been pro- 
+hibited, and sometimes subjected to higherdutiesTheexportation 
+of English wool has been prohibited. That of beaver skins, of beaver 
+wool, and of gum-senega, has been subjected to higher duties; G reat 
+Britain, by theconquests of Canada and Senegal, having got almost 
+the monopoly of those commodities. 
+
+
+
+724 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+That the mercantile system has not been very favourable to the 
+revenue of the great body of the people, to the annual produce of 
+theland and labour of thecountry, I haveendeavouredtoshowin 
+the fourth book of this Inquiry. It seems not to have been more 
+favourable to the revenue of the sovereign; so far, at least, as that 
+revenue depends upon the duties of customs. 
+
+In consequence of that system, the importation of several sorts 
+of goods has been prohibited altogether. This prohibition has, in 
+some cases, entirely prevented, and in others has very much di- 
+minished, theimportation of those commodities, by reducingthe 
+importers to the necessity of smuggling. It has entirely prevented 
+theimportation of foreign wollens; and it has very much dimin- 
+ished that of foreign silks and velvets, In both cases, it has entirely 
+annihilated the revenue of customs which might have been levied 
+upon such importation. 
+
+The high duties which have been imposed upon theimporta- 
+tion of many different sorts of foreign goods in order to discour- 
+age their consumption in Great Britain, have, in many cases, served 
+only to encourage smuggling, and, in all cases, have reduced the 
+revenues of the customs below what more moderate duties would 
+have afforded. The saying of D r. Swift, that in the arithmetic of 
+the customs, two and two, instead of making four, make some- 
+times only one, holds perfectly true with regard to such heavy 
+
+
+
+duties, which never could have been imposed, had not the mer- 
+cantile system taught us, in many cases, to employ taxation as an 
+instrument, not of revenue, but of monopoly. 
+
+The bounties which are sometimes given upon the exportation 
+of homeproduceand manufactures, and the drawbacks which are 
+paid upon there-exportation of the greater part of foreign goods, 
+have given occasion to many frauds, and to a species of smug- 
+gling, more destructive of the public revenue than any other. In 
+order to obtain thebounty or drawback, thegoods, it is well known, 
+are sometimes shipped, and sent to sea, but soon afterwards clan- 
+destinely re-landed in some other part of thecountry. The defal- 
+cation of therevenueof customsoccasioned by bounties and draw- 
+backs, of which agreat part are obtained fraudulently, isvery great. 
+The gross produce of the customs, in theyear which ended on the 
+5th of J anuary 1755, amounted to £5,068,000. T hebounties which 
+were paid out of this revenue, though in that year there was no 
+bounty upon corn, amounted to £167,806. T he drawbacks which 
+were paid upon debentures and certificates, to £2,156,800. Boun- 
+ties and drawbacks together amounted to £2,324,600. In conse- 
+quenceofthesedeductions, therevenueof thecustoms amounted 
+only to £2,743,400; from which deducting £287,900 for the ex- 
+pense of management, in salaries and other incidents, the neat 
+revenue of the customsfor that year comes out to be £2,455,500. 
+
+
+
+725 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+The expense of management, amounts, in this manner, to be- 
+tween five and six per cent, upon the gross revenue of the cus- 
+toms; and to something more than ten per cent, upon what re 
+mainsof that revenue, after deducting what is paid away in boun- 
+ties and drawbacks. 
+
+H eavy duties being imposed upon almost all goods imported, 
+our merchant importers smuggle as much, and make entry of as 
+littleas they can. ur merchant exporters, on the contrary, make 
+entry of more than they export; sometimes out of vanity, and to 
+pass for great dealers in goods which pay no duty gain a bounty 
+back. ur exports, in consequence of these different frauds, ap- 
+pear upon the custom-house books greatly to overbalance our 
+imports, to theunspeakablecomfort of those politicians, who mea- 
+sure thenational prosperity by what they call thebalanceof trade. 
+
+All goods imported, unless particularly exempted, and such ex- 
+emptions are not very numerous, are liable to some duties of cus- 
+toms. If any goods are imported, not mentioned in the book of 
+rates, they are taxed at 4s:9 3 /4d. for every twenty shillings value, 
+according to the oath of the importer, that is, nearly at five subsi- 
+dies, or five poundageduties. T he book of rates is extremely com- 
+prehensive, and enumerates a great variety of articles, many of 
+them little used, and, therefore, not well known. It is, upon this 
+account, frequently uncertain under what article a particular sort 
+
+
+
+of goods ought to be classed, and, consequently what duty they 
+ought to pay. M istakes with regard to this sometimes ruin the 
+custom-house officer, and frequently occasion much trouble, ex- 
+pense, and vexation to the importer. In point of perspicuity, preci- 
+sion, and distinctness, therefore, the duties of customs are much 
+inferior to those of excise. 
+
+I n order that the greater part of the members of any society 
+should contribute to the public revenue, in proportion to their 
+respective expense, it does not seem necessary that every single 
+artideof that expense should be taxed. The revenue which is lev- 
+ied by the duties of excise is supposed to fall as equally upon the 
+contributors as that which is levied by the duties of customs; and 
+the duties of excise are imposed upon a few articles only of the 
+most general used and consumption. It has been the opinion of 
+many people, that, by proper management, the duties of customs 
+might likewise, without any loss to the public revenue, and with 
+great advantage to ford gn trade, be confined to a few articles only. 
+
+Thefordgn articles, of the most general use and consumption 
+in G reat Britain, seem at present to consist chiefly in ford gn wines 
+and brandies; in someof theproductionsof America and theWest 
+Indies, sugar, rum, tobacco, cocoa-nuts, etc. and in someof those 
+of the East Indies, tea, coffee, china-ware, spiceries of all kinds, 
+several sorts of piece-goods, etc. These different articles afford, the 
+
+
+
+726 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+greater part of the perhaps, at present, revenue which is drawn 
+from the duties of customs. The taxes which at present subsist 
+upon foreign manufactures, if you except those upon thefew con- 
+tained in theforegoing enumeration, have, thegreater part of them, 
+been imposed for the purpose, not of revenue, but of monopoly, 
+or to give our own merchants an advantage in the home market. 
+By removing all prohibitions, and by subjecting all foreign manu- 
+factures to such moderate taxes, as it was found from experience, 
+afforded upon each article the greatest revenue to the public, our 
+own workmen might still have a considerable advantage in the 
+home market; and many articles, some of which at present afford 
+no revenue to government, and othersa very inconsiderable one, 
+might afford a very great one. 
+
+High taxes, sometimes by diminishing the consumption of the 
+taxed commodities, and sometimes by encouraging smuggling fre- 
+quently afford a smaller revenue to government than what might 
+be drawn from more moderate taxes. 
+
+Whenthediminutionof revenueistheeffectofthediminution 
+of consumption, there can be but one remedy, and that is the 
+lowering of the tax. 
+
+When thediminution of revenue is the effect of the encourage- 
+ment given to smuggling, it may, perhaps, be remedied in two 
+ways; either by diminishing the temptation to smuggle, or by in- 
+
+
+
+creasing the difficulty of smuggling. The temptation to smuggle 
+can be diminished only by the lowering of the tax; and the diffi- 
+culty of smuggling can be increased only by establishing that sys- 
+tem of administration which is most proper for preventing it. 
+
+The excise laws, it appears, I believe, from experience, obstruct 
+and embarrass theoperationsof the smuggler much more effectu- 
+ally than those of the customs. By introducing into the customs a 
+system of administration as similar to that of the excise as the 
+nature of the different duties will admit, the difficulty of smug- 
+gling might be very much increased. This alteration, it has been 
+supposed by many people, might very easily be brought about. 
+
+T he importer of commodities liableto any duties of customs, it 
+has been said, might, at his option, be allowed either to carry 
+them to his own private warehouse; or to lodge them in a ware- 
+house, provided either at his own expenseor at that of the public, 
+but under the key of the custom-house officer, and never to be 
+opened but in his presence. If the merchant carried them to his 
+own private warehouse, the duties to be immediately paid, and 
+never afterwardsto bedrawn back; and that warehouseto beat all 
+times subject to the visit and examination of the custom-house 
+officer, in order to ascertain how far the quantity contained in it 
+corresponded with that for which the duty had been paid. If he 
+carried them to the public warehouse, no duty to be paid till they 
+
+
+
+727 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+were taken out for home consumption. If taken out for exporta- 
+tion, to beduty-free; proper security being always given that they 
+should be so exported. The dealers in those particular commodi- 
+ties, either by wholesale or retail, to beat all times subject to the 
+visit and examination of thecustom-houseofficer; and to beobliged 
+to justify, by proper certificates, thepayment of theduty upon the 
+whole quantity contained in their shops or warehouses. W hat are 
+called the excise duties upon rum imported, are at present levied 
+in this manner; and the same system of administration might, 
+perhaps, be extended to all dutiesupon goods imported; provided 
+always that thoseduties were, liketheduties of excise, confined to 
+a few sorts of goods of the most general use and consumption. If 
+they were extended to almost all sortsof goods, as at present, pub- 
+lic warehouses of sufficient extent could not easily be provided; 
+and goods of a very delicate nature, or of which the preservation 
+required much care and attention, could not safely be trusted by 
+the merchant in any warehouse but his own. 
+
+If, by such a system of administration, smuggling to any con- 
+siderable extent could be prevented, even under pretty high du- 
+ties; and if every duty was occasionally either heightened or low- 
+ered according as it was most likely, either the one way or the 
+other, to afford the greatest revenue to the state; taxation being 
+always employed as an instrument of revenue, and never of mo- 
+
+
+
+nopoly; it seems not improbable that a revenue, at least equal to 
+the present neat revenue of the customs, might be drawn from 
+duties upon the importation of only a few sorts of goods of the 
+most general use and consumption; and that the duties of cus- 
+toms might thus be brought to the same degree of simplicity, cer- 
+tainty, and precision, as those of excise. W hat the revenue at present 
+loses by drawbacks upon there-exportation of foreign goods, which 
+are afterwards re-landed and consumed at home, would, under 
+this system, be saved altogether. If to this saving, which would 
+alone be very considerable, were added the abolition of all boun- 
+ties upon the exportation of home produce; in all cases in which 
+those bounties were not in reality drawbacks of some duties of 
+excise which had before been advanced; it cannot well bedoubted, 
+but that the neat revenue of customs might, after an alteration of 
+this kind, be fully equal to what it had ever been before. 
+
+If, by such a change of system, the public revenue suffered no 
+loss, the trade and manufactures of the country would certainly 
+gain a very considerable advantage. T hetrade in the commodities 
+not taxed, by far the greatest number would be perfectly free, and 
+might be carried on to and from all parts of the world with every 
+possible advantage. Among those commodities would be compre- 
+hended all the necessaries of life, and all the materials of manufac- 
+ture. So far as the free importation of the necessaries of life re- 
+
+
+
+728 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+duced their average money price in the home market, it would 
+reduce the money price of labour, but without reducing in any 
+respect its real recompence. The value of money is in proportion 
+to the quantity of the necessaries of life which it will purchase. 
+That of the necessaries of life is altogether independent of the 
+quantity of money which can be had for them. The reduction in 
+the money price of labour would necessarily be attended with a 
+proportionableonein thatof all home manufactures, which would 
+thereby gain some advantage in all foreign markets. The price of 
+some manufactures would be reduced, in a still greater propor- 
+tion, by thefree importation of the raw materials. If raw silk could 
+be imported from China and Indostan, duty-free, the silk manu- 
+facturers^ England could greatly undersell those of both France 
+and I taly. There would beno occasion to prohibittheimportation 
+of foreign silks and velvets. The cheapness of their goods would 
+securetoourown workmen, not only the possession of a home, but 
+a very great command of the foreign market. Even the trade in the 
+commodities taxed, would be carried on with much more advan- 
+tage than at present. If those commodities weredelivered out of the 
+public warehousefor foreign exportation, beingin this case exempted 
+from all taxes, thetradein them would be perfectly free. The carry- 
+ing trade, in all sorts of goods, would, under this system, enjoy 
+every possible advantage. If these commodities were delivered out 
+
+
+
+for homeconsumption, the importer not being obliged to advance 
+thetax till hehad an opportunity of selling hisgoods, either to some 
+dealer, or to some consumer, he could always afford to sell them 
+cheaper than if hehad been obliged to advance it at the moment of 
+importation. Under the same taxes, theforeign trade of consump- 
+tion, even in the taxed commodities, might in this manner be car- 
+ried on with much more advantage than it is at present. 
+
+It was the object of the famous excise scheme of Sir Robert 
+Walpole, to establish, with regard to wine and tobacco, a system 
+not very unlike that which is here proposed. But though the bill 
+which was then brought into Parliament, comprehended those 
+two commodities only, it was generally supposed to be meant as 
+an introduction to a more extensive scheme of the same kind. 
+Faction, combined with theinterest of smuggling merchants, raised 
+so violent, though so unjust a clamour, against that bill, that the 
+minister thought proper to drop it; and, from a dread of exciting 
+a clamour of the same kind, none of his successors have dared to 
+resumethe project. 
+
+Thedutiesupon foreign luxuries, imported for homeconsump- 
+tion, though they sometimes fall upon the poor, fall principally 
+upon people of middling or more than middling fortune. Such 
+are, for example, thedutiesupon foreign wines, upon coffee, choco- 
+late, tea, sugar, etc. 
+
+
+
+729 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+The duties upon the cheaper luxuries of home produce, des- 
+tined for home consumption, fall pretty equally upon people of 
+all ranks, in proportion to their respective expense. The poor pay 
+the duties upon malt, hops, beer, and ale, upon their own con- 
+sumption; the rich, upon both their own consumption and that 
+of their servants. 
+
+The whole consumption of the inferior ranks of people, or of 
+those below the middling rank, it must be observed, is, in every 
+country, much greater, not only in quantity, but in value, than 
+that of the middling, and of those above the middling rank. The 
+whole expense of the inferior is much greater titan that of the 
+superior ranks. In the first place, almost the whole capital of every 
+country isannually distributed among theinferior ranks of people, 
+as the wages of productive labour. Secondly, a great part of the 
+revenue, arisingfrom both therent of land and the profits of stock, 
+is annually distributed among the same rank, in the wages and 
+maintenanceof menial servants, and other unproductivelabourers. 
+Thirdly, some part of the profits of stock belongs to the same 
+rank, as a revenue arising from the employment of their small 
+capitals. T he amount of the profits annually made by small shop- 
+keepers, tradesmen, and retailers of all kinds, is everywhere very 
+considerable, and makesaveryconsiderableportion of theannual 
+produce. Fourthly and lastly, some part even of the rent of land 
+
+
+
+belongs to the same rank; a considerable part to those who are 
+somewhat below the middling rank, and a small part even to the 
+lowest rank; common labourers sometimes possessing in property 
+an acreor two of land. Though theexpense of those inferior ranks 
+of people, therefore, taking them individually, is very small, yet 
+the whole mass of it, taking them collectively, amounts always to 
+by much the largest portion of the whole expense of the society; 
+what remains of theannual produce of the land and labour of the 
+country, for the consumption of the superior ranks, being always 
+much less, not only in quantity, but in value. Thetaxes upon ex- 
+pense, therefore, which fall chiefly upon that of thesuperior ranks 
+of people, upon the smaller portion of the annual produce, are 
+likely to be much less productive than either those which fall in- 
+differently upon the expense of all ranks, or even those which fall 
+chiefly upon that of theinferior ranks, than either those which fall 
+indifferently upon the whole annual produce, or those which fall 
+chiefly upon the larger portion of it. T he excise upon the materi- 
+als and manufacture of home-made fermented and spirituous li- 
+quors, is, accordingly, of all the different taxes upon expense, by 
+far the most productive; and this branch of the excise falls very 
+much, perhaps principally, upon the expense of the common 
+people. In theyear which ended on the 5th of July 1775, the gross 
+produceofthisbranch of theexcise amounted to £3,341,837:9:9. 
+
+
+
+730 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+It must always be remembered, however, that it is the luxuries, 
+and not the necessary expense of the inferior ranks of people, that 
+ought ever to be taxed. The final payment of any tax upon their 
+necessary expense, would fall altogether upon the superior ranks 
+of people; upon the smaller portion of the annual produce, and 
+not upon the greater. Such a tax must, in all cases, either raise the 
+wages of labour, or lessen the demand for it. It could not raise the 
+wages of labour, without throwing the final payment of the tax 
+upon thesuperior ranks of people. It could not lessen the demand 
+for labour, without lessening the annual produce of the land and 
+labour of the country, the fund upon which all taxes must be fi- 
+nally paid. W hatever might bethestateto which a tax of this kind 
+reduced the demand for labour, it must always raise wages higher 
+than they otherwise would bein that state; and thefinal payment 
+of this enhancement of wages must, in all cases, fall upon the 
+superior ranks of people. 
+
+Fermented liquors brewed, and spiritous liquors distilled, not 
+for sale, but for private use, are not in Great Britain liableto any 
+duties of excise. This exemption, of which the object is to save 
+privatefamiliesfrom theodiousvisit and examination of the tax- 
+gatherer, occasions the burden of those duties to fall frequently 
+much lighter upon therich than upon thepoor. Itisnot, indeed, 
+very common to distil for private use, though it is done some- 
+
+
+
+times. But in the country, many middling and almost all rich and 
+great families, brew thar own beer. Thar strong beer, therefore, 
+costs them eight shillings a-barrel less than it costs the common 
+brewer, who must have his profit upon thetax, as well as upon all 
+the other expense which he advances. Such families, therefore, 
+must drink their beer at least nineor ten shillings a-barrel cheaper 
+than any liquor of the same quality can be drank by the common 
+people, to whom it is everywhere more convenient to buy their 
+beer, by little and little, from the brewery or the ale-house. M alt, 
+in the same manner, that is madefor the use of a private family, is 
+not liableto the visit or examination of the tax-gatherer but, in 
+this case thefamily must compound at seven shillings and sixpence 
+a-head for the tax. Seven shillings and sixpence are equal to the 
+excise upon ten bushels of malt; a quantity fully equal to what all 
+the different members of any sober family, men, women, and chil- 
+dren, are, at an average, likdy to consume. But in rich and great 
+families, where country hospitality is much practised, the malt li- 
+quors consumed by the members of the family make but a small 
+part of the consmnption of the house. Either on account of this 
+composition, however, or for other reasons, it is not near so com- 
+mon to malt as to brew for private use. It isdifficultto imagineany 
+equitable reason, why those who ather brew or distil for privateuse 
+should not be subject to a composition of thesamekind. 
+
+
+
+731 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+A greater revenue than what is at present drawn from all the 
+heavy taxes upon malt, beer, and ale, might be raised, it has fre- 
+quently been said, by a much lighter tax upon malt; the opportu- 
+nities of defrauding the revenue being much greater in a brewery 
+than in a malt-house; and those who brew for private use being 
+exempted from all duties or composition for duties, which is not 
+the case with those who malt for private use. 
+
+In the porter brewery of London, a quarter of malt is com- 
+monly brewed into more than two barrels and a-half, sometimes 
+into three barrels of porter. The different taxes upon malt amount 
+to six shillings a-quarter; those upon strong ale and beer to eight 
+shillings a-barrel. In the porter brewery, therefore, the different 
+taxes upon malt, beer, and ale, amount to between twenty-six and 
+thirty shillingsupon theproduceof a quarter of malt. In thecountry 
+brewery for common country sale, a quarter of malt is seldom 
+brewed into less than two barrels of strong, and one barrel of small 
+beer; frequently into two barrels and a-half of strong beer. The 
+different taxes upon small beer amount to one shilling and 
+fourpence a-barrel. In thecountry brewery, therefore, the differ- 
+ent taxes upon malt, beer, and ale, seldom amount to less than 
+twenty-three shillings and fourpence, frequently to twenty-six shil- 
+lings, upon the produce of a quarter of malt. Taking the whole 
+kingdom at an average, therefore, the whole amount of theduties 
+
+
+
+upon malt, beer, and ale, cannot be estimated at less than twenty- 
+four or twenty-five shillings upon theproduceof a quarter of malt. 
+But by taking off all thedifferent duties upon beer and ale, and by 
+trebling the malt tax, or by raising it from six to eighteen shilling's 
+upon the quarter of malt, a greater revenue, it is said, might be 
+raised by this single tax, than what is at present drawn from all 
+those heavier taxes. 
+
+In 1772, the old malt tax produced £722,023:11:11 
+
+Theadditional £356,776: 7: 9% 
+
+In 1775, the old tax produced £561,627: 3: Th 
+
+Theadditional £278,650: 15: 3% 
+
+In 1774, the old tax produced £624,614:17: 5% 
+
+Theadditional £310,745: 2: 8% 
+
+In 1775, the old tax produced £657,357: 0: 8% 
+
+Theadditional £323,785: 12: 6% 
+
+£5,855,580: 12: 0% 
+Average of these four years £958,895: 3:0 
+
+In 1772, the country excise produced £1,243,120: 5: 3 
+
+The London brewery 408,260: 7:2% 
+
+In 1773, the country excise £1,245,808: 3: 3 
+
+The London brewery 405,406: 17:10% 
+
+
+
+732 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+In 1774, the country excise £1,246,373: 14: 5V2 thatliquor. Butto balance whatever may be the ordinary amount 
+
+The London brewery 320,601:18: 0V* of those two taxes, there is comprehended under what iscalled the 
+
+In 1775, the country excise £1,214,583: 6: V-A country excise, first, the old excise of six shillings and eightpence 
+
+The London brewery 463,670: 7: l A upon the hogshead of cyder; secondly, a like tax of six shillings 
+
+4) £6,547,832:19: 2Va and eightpence upon the hogshead of verjuice; thirdly, another of 
+
+Average of these four years £1,636,958: 4: 9V2 eight shillings and ninepence upon the hogshead of vinegar; and, 
+
+To which adding the average malt tax.. 958,895: 3: 0Y4 lastly, a fourth tax of elevenpence upon the gallon of mead or 
+
+metheglin.Theproduceofthosedifferent taxes will probably much 
+
+The whole amount of those different taxes comes out to more than counterbalance that of theduties imposed, by what is 
+
+be £2,595,835: 7: 10 called the annual malt tax, upon cyder and mum. 
+
+Malt is consumed, not only in the brewery of beer and ale, but 
+
+But, by trebling the malt tax, or by raising it from six to eighteen in themanufactureof low winesand spirits. If the malt tax were to 
+
+shillings upon the quarter of malt, that single tax would pro- beraised to eighteen shillingsupon thequarter, it might beneces- 
+
+duce £2,876,685: 9: sary to make some abatement in the different excises which are 
+
+A sum which exceeds the foregoing by... 280,832: 1: 3 imposed upon those particular sorts of low winesand spirits, of 
+
+which malt makes any part of the materials. In what are called 
+
+Under the old malt tax, indeed, is comprehended a tax of four malt spirits, it makes commonly but a third part of the materials; 
+
+shillingsupon the hogshead of cyder, and another of ten shillings the other two-thirds being either raw barley, or one-third barley 
+
+upon the barrel of mum. In 1774, the tax upon cyder produced and one-third wheat. In thedistillery of malt spirits, both theop- 
+
+only £3,083:6:8. It probably fell somewhat short of its usual portunity and the temptation to smuggle are much greater than 
+
+amount; all the different taxes upon cyder, having, that year, pro- either in a brewery or in a malt-house; the opportunity, on ac- 
+
+duced lessthan ordinary. Thetax upon mum, though much heavier, count of the smaller bulk and greater valueof thecommodity, and 
+
+is still less productive, on account of the smaller consumption of the temptation, on account of the superior height of theduties, 
+
+
+
+733 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+which amounted to 3s. 10 2/ 3d. upon thegallon of spirits. {Though 
+thedutiesdirectly imposed upon proof spirits amount only to 2s. 
+6d per gallon, these, added to thedutiesupon the low wines, from 
+which they are distilled, amount to 3s 10 2/3d. Both low wines 
+and proof spirits are, to prevent frauds, now rated according to 
+what they gauge in thewash.} 
+
+By increasing the duties upon malt, and reducing those upon 
+the distillery, both theopportunitiesand thetemptation to smuggle 
+would be diminished, which might occasion a still further aug- 
+mentation of revenue. 
+
+It has for some time past been the policy of Great Britain to 
+discourage the consumption of spiritous liquors, on account of 
+their supposed tendency to ruin the health and to corrupt the 
+moralsofthecommon people. Accordingtothispolicy, theabate- 
+ment of the taxes upon the distillery ought not to be so great as to 
+reduce, in any respect, the price of thoseliquors. Spiritousliquors 
+might remain as dear as ever; while, at the same time, the whole- 
+some and invigorating liquors of beer and ale might be consider- 
+ably reduced in their price. The people might thus be in part re- 
+lieved from one of the burdens of which they at present complain 
+the most; while, at thesametime, the revenue might beconsider- 
+ably augmented. 
+
+T he objections of D r. D avenant to this alteration in the present 
+
+
+
+system of excise duties, seem to be without foundation. Those 
+objections are, that the tax, instead of dividing itself, as at present, 
+pretty equally upon the profit of the maltster, upon that of the 
+brewer and upon that of the retailer, would so far as it affected 
+profit, fall altogether upon that of the maltster; that the maltster 
+could not so easily get back theamount of thetax in theadvanced 
+price of his malt, as the brewer and retailer in theadvanced price 
+of their liquor; and that so heavy a tax upon malt might reduce 
+the rent and profit of barley land. 
+
+N o tax can ever reduce, for any considerable time, the rate of 
+profit in any particular trade, which must always keep its level 
+with other trades in the neighbourhood. T he present duties upon 
+malt, beer, and ale, do not affect the profits of the dealers in those 
+commodities, who all get back thetax with an additional profit, 
+in the enhanced price of their goods. A tax, indeed, may render 
+the goods upon which it is imposed so dear, as to diminish the 
+consumption of them. But the consumption of malt is in malt 
+liquors; and a tax of eighteen shillings upon the quarter of malt 
+could not well render thoseliquorsdearer than the different taxes, 
+amounting to twenty-four or twenty-five shillings, do at present. 
+Thoseliquors, on the contrary, would probably become cheaper, 
+and the consumption of them would be more likely to increase 
+than to diminish. 
+
+
+
+734 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+1 1 isnot very easy to understand why it should be moredifficult 
+for themaltster to get back eighteen shillingsin theadvanced price 
+of his malt, than it is at present for the brewer to get back twenty- 
+four or twenty-five, sometimes thirty shillings, in that of his li- 
+quor. The maltster, indeed, instead of a tax of six shillings, would 
+beobliged to advance one of eighteen shilling upon every quarter 
+of malt. But the brewer is at present obliged to advance a tax of 
+twenty-four ortwentyfive, sometimes thirty shillings, upon every 
+quarter of malt which he brews. It could not be more inconve- 
+nient for the maltster to advance a lighter tax, than it is at present 
+for the brewer to advance a heavier one. The maltster does not 
+alwayskeepin hisgranariesa stock of malt, which itwill requirea 
+longer timeto disposeof than thestock of beer and ale which the 
+brewer frequently keeps in his cellars The former, therefore, may 
+frequently get the returns of his money as soon as the latter. But 
+whatever inconveniency might arise to the maltster from being 
+obliged to advance a heavier tax, it could easily be remedied, by 
+granting him a few months longer credit than is at present com- 
+monly given to the brewer. 
+
+N othing could reduce the rent and profit of barley land, which 
+did not reduce the demand for barley. But a change of system, 
+which reduced thedutiesupon a quarter of malt brewed into beer 
+and ale, from twentyfour and twenty-five shillings to eighteen shil- 
+
+
+
+lings, would be more likdy to increase than diminish that de- 
+mand. The rent and profit of barley land, besides, must always be 
+nearly equal to those of other equally fertile and equally wdl cul- 
+tivated land. If they were less, some part of the barley land would 
+soon be turned to some other purpose; and if they were greater, 
+more land would soon be turned to the raising of barley. W hen 
+the ordinary price of any particular produce of land is at what 
+may be called a monopoly price, a tax upon it necessarily reduces 
+the rent and profit of the land which grows it. A tax upon the 
+produce of those precious vineyards, of which the wine falls so 
+much short of the effectual demand, that its price is always above 
+the natural proportion to that of the produce of other equally 
+fertile and equally wdl cultivated land, would necessarily reduce 
+the rent and profit of those vineyards. T he price of the wines be- 
+ing already the highest that could be got for the quantity com- 
+monly sent to market, it could not be raised higher without di- 
+minishing that quantity; and the quantity could not be dimin- 
+ished without still greater loss, because the lands could not be 
+turned to any other equally valuable produce. T he whole weight 
+of thetax, therefore, would fall upon the rent and profit; properly 
+upon the rent of the vineyard. W hen it has been proposed to lay 
+any new tax upon sugar, our sugar planters have frequently com- 
+plained that the whole wdght of such taxes fdl not upon the con- 
+
+
+
+735 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+sumer, but upon the producer; they never having been able to 
+raise the price of their sugar after the tax higher than it was before. 
+The price had, it seems, before the tax, been a monopoly price; 
+and the arguments adduced to show that sugar was an improper 
+subject of taxation, demonstrated perhaps that it was a proper 
+one; the gains of monopolists, whenever they can be come at, 
+being certainly of all subjects the most proper. But the ordinary 
+price of barley has never been a monopoly price; and the rent and 
+profit of barley land have never been above their natural propor- 
+tion to those of other equally fertile and equally well cultivated 
+land. The different taxes which have been imposed upon malt, 
+beer, and ale, have never lowered the price of barley; have never 
+reduced the rent and profit of barley land. T he priceof malt to the 
+brewer has constantly risen in proportion to the taxes imposed 
+upon it; and those taxes, together with the different duties upon 
+beer and ale, have constantly either raised theprice, or, what comes 
+to the same thing, reduced the quality of those commodities to 
+the consumer. The final payment of those taxes has fallen con- 
+stantly upon the consumer, and not upon the producer. 
+
+The only people likely to suffer by the change of system here 
+proposed, are those who brew for their own private use. But the 
+exemption, which this superior rank of people at present enjoy, 
+from very heavy taxes which are paid by the poor labourer and 
+
+
+
+artificer, issurely most unjust and unequal, and ought to betaken 
+away, even though thischange was never to takeplace. It has prob- 
+ably been the interest of this superior order of people, however, 
+which has hitherto prevented a change of system that could not 
+well fail both to increase the revenue and to relieve the people. 
+
+Besides such duties as those of custom and excise above men- 
+tioned, there are several others which affect the price of goods 
+more unequally and more indirectly. Of this kind are the duties, 
+which, in French, are called peages, which in old Saxon timeswere 
+called the duties of passage, and which seem to have been origi- 
+nally established for thesamepurpose as our turn pike tolls, or the 
+tolls upon our canals and navigable rivers, for the maintenance of 
+the road or of the navigation. Thoseduties, when applied to such 
+purposes, are most properly imposed according to the bulk or 
+weight of the goods. As they were originally local and provincial 
+duties, applicable to local and provincial purposes, the adminis- 
+tration of them was, in most cases, entrusted to the particular 
+town, parish, or lordship, in which they were levied; such com- 
+munities being, in someway or other, supposed to be accountable 
+for the application. T he sovereign, who is altogether unaccount- 
+able, has in many countries assumed to himself the administra- 
+tion of those duties; and though he has in most cases enhanced 
+very much the duty, he has in many entirely neglected theapplica- 
+
+
+
+736 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+tion. If theturnpiketollsof Great Britain should ever becomeone 
+
+of the resources of government, we may learn, by the example of 
+many other nations, what would probably be the consequence. 
+Such tolls, no doubt, are finally paid by the consumer; but the 
+consumer is not taxed in proportion to his expense, when he pays, 
+not according to thevalue, but according to thebulk or weight of 
+what he consumes. When such duties are imposed, not according 
+to the bulk or weight, but according to the supposed value of the 
+goods, they become properly a sort of inland customs or excise, 
+which obstruct very much the most important of all branches of 
+commerce, the interior commerce of the country. 
+
+I n some small states, duties similar to those passage duties are 
+imposed upon goods carried across the territory, either by land or 
+by water, from oneforeign country to an other. These are in some 
+countri es called transit-duties. Some of the little I tali an states which 
+are situated upon thePo, and the rivers which run into it, derive 
+some revenue from duties of this kind, which are paid altogether 
+by foreigners, and which, perhaps, are the only duties that one 
+state can impose upon the subjects of another, without obstruc- 
+tion in any respect, the industry or commerce of its own. The 
+most important transit-duty in the world, is that levied by the 
+king of D enmark upon all merchant shipswhich pass through the 
+Sound. 
+
+
+
+Such taxes upon luxuries, as the greater part of the duties of 
+customs and excise, though they all fall indifferently upon every 
+different species of revenue, and are paid finally, or without any 
+retribution, by whoever consumes the commodities upon which 
+they are imposed; yet they do not always fall equally or propor- 
+tionally upon the revenue of every individual. As every man's 
+humour regulates the degree of his consumption, every man con- 
+tributes rather according to his humour, than proportion to his 
+revenue: the profuse contribute more, the parsimonious less, than 
+their proper proportion. D uring the minority of a man of great 
+fortune, he contributes commonly very little, by his consump- 
+tion, towards the support of that state from whose protection he 
+derives a great revenue. Those who live in another country, con- 
+tribute nothing by their consumption towards the support of the 
+government of that country, in which is situated the source of 
+theirrevenue. If in this latter country there should beno land tax, 
+nor any considerable duty upon the transference either of move- 
+ableor immoveable property, asisthecasein Ireland, such absen- 
+tees may derive a great revenue from the protection of a govern- 
+ment, to the support of which they do not contribute a single 
+shilling. This inequality is likely to be greatest in a country of 
+which the government is, in some respects, subordinate and de- 
+pendant upon that of some other. The people who possess the 
+
+
+
+737 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+most extensive property in the dependant, will, in thiscase, gener- 
+ally chuse to live in the governing country. Ireland is precisely in 
+this situation; and we cannot therefore wonder, that the proposal 
+of ataxupon absentees should be so very popular in that country. 
+It might, perhaps, be a little difficult to ascertain either what sort, 
+or what degree of absence, would subject a man to be taxed as an 
+absentee, or at what precise time the tax should either begin or 
+end. If you except, however, this very peculiar situation, any in- 
+equality in the contribution of individuals which can arise from 
+such taxes, is much more than compensated by the very circum- 
+stance which occasions that inequality; the circumstance that ev- 
+ery man's contribution isaltogether voluntary; it being altogether 
+in hispower, either to consume, or not to consume, thecommod- 
+ity taxed. W here such taxes, therefore, are properly assessed, and 
+upon proper commodities, they are paid with lessgrumblingthan 
+any other. W hen they are advanced by the merchant or manufac- 
+turer, the consumer, who finally pays them, soon comes to con- 
+found them with thepriceof thecommodities, and almost forgets 
+that he pays any tax. 
+
+Such taxes are, or may be, perfectly certain; or may be assessed, 
+so as to leave no doubt concerning either what ought to be paid, 
+or when it ought to be paid; concerning either the quantity or the 
+time of payment. W hat ever uncertainty there may sometimes be, 
+
+
+
+either in the duties of customs in Great Britain, or in other duties 
+of the same kind in other countries, it cannot arise from the na- 
+ture of those duties, but from the inaccurate or unskilful manner 
+in which the I aw that imposes them is expressed. 
+
+Taxesupon luxuries generally are, and alwaysmay be, paid piece 
+meal, or in proportion as the contributors have occasion to pur- 
+chase the goods upon which they are imposed. I n the time and 
+mode of payment, they are, or may be, of all taxes the most conve- 
+nient. U pon thewhole, such taxes, therefore, are perhaps as agree- 
+able to the three first of thefour general maxims concerning taxa- 
+tion, as any other. They offend in every respect against the fourth. 
+
+Such taxes, in proportion to what they bring into the public 
+treasury of the state, always take out, or keep out, of the pockets 
+of the people, more than almost any other taxes. They seem to do 
+this in all thefour different ways in which it is possibleto do it. 
+
+First, the levying of such taxes, even when imposed in the most 
+judicious manner, requires a great number of custom-house and 
+excise officers, whose salaries and perquisites are a real tax upon 
+the people, which brings nothing into the treasury of the state. 
+This expense, however, it must be acknowledged, is more moder- 
+ated Great Britain than in most other countries. In theyear which 
+ended on the 5th of J uly, 1775, the gross produce of the different 
+duties, under the management of the commissioners of excise in 
+
+
+
+738 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+England, amounted to f 5,507, 308:18:8y4, which waslevied at an 
+expense of little more than five and a-half per cent. From this 
+gross produce, however, there must be deducted what was paid 
+away in bounties and drawbacks upon theexportation of exciseable 
+goods, which will reduce the neat produce below five millions. 
+{The neat produce of that year, after deducting all expenses and 
+allowances, amounted to £4,975,652:19:6.} The levying of the 
+salt duty, and excise duty, but under a different management, is 
+much more expensive. T he neat revenue of the customs does not 
+amount to two millions and a-half, which is levied at an expense 
+of more than ten per cent., in the salaries of officers and other 
+incidents. But the perquisites of custom-house officers are every- 
+where much greater than their salaries; at some ports more than 
+doubleor triplethose salaries If the salaries of officers, and other 
+incidents, therefore, amount to more than ten per cent, upon the 
+neat revenue of the customs, the whole expense of levying that 
+revenue may amount, in salaries and perquisites together, to more 
+than twenty or thirty per cent. T heofficers of excise receive few or 
+no perquisites; and theadministration of that branch of therevenue 
+being of more recent establishment, isin general lesscorrupted than 
+that of the customs, into which length of time has introduced and 
+authorised manyabuses. By charging upon malt the whole revenue 
+which is at present levied by the different duties upon malt and 
+
+
+
+malt liquors, a saving, it issupposed, of more than £50,000, might 
+bemadeintheannual expenseoftheexcise. By confining theduties 
+of customs to a few sorts of goods, and by levying those duties 
+according to the excise laws, a much greater saving might probably 
+be made in the annual expense of the customs. 
+
+Secondly, such taxes necessarily occasion some obstruction or 
+discouragement to certain branches of industry. As they always 
+raise the price of the commodity taxed, they so far discourage its 
+consumption, and consequently its production. If it is a com- 
+modity of home growth or manufacture, less labour comes to be 
+employed in raising and producing it. If it isa foreign commodity 
+of which the tax increases in this manner the price, thecommodi- 
+ties of the same kind which are made at home may thereby, in- 
+deed, gain someadvantagein the home market, and a greater quan- 
+tity of domestic industry may thereby be turned toward preparing 
+them. But though this rise of price in a foreign commodity, may 
+encourage domestic industry in one particular branch, it neces- 
+sarily discourages that industry in almost every other. The dearer 
+the Birmingham manufacturer buyshisforeign wine, the cheaper 
+he necessarily sells that part of his hard ware with which, or, what 
+comes to the same thing, with the price of which, he buys it. T hat 
+part of his hardware, therefore, becomes of less value to him, and 
+he has less encouragement to work at it. The dearer the consumers 
+
+
+
+739 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+in onecountry pay for thesurplusproduceof another, thecheaper 
+they necessarily sell that part of their own surplus produce with 
+which, or, what comes to thesamething, with thepriceof which, 
+they buy it. T hat part of their own surplus produce becomes of 
+less value to them, and they have less encouragement to increase 
+its quantity. All taxes upon consumable commodities, therefore, 
+tend to reduce the quantity of productive labour below what it 
+otherwise would be, either in preparingthecommodities taxed, if 
+they are home commodities, or in preparing those with which 
+they are purchased, if they are foreign commodities. Such taxes, 
+too, always alter, more or less, the natural direction of national 
+industry, and turn it into a channel always different from, and 
+generally less advantageous, than that in which it would have run 
+of its own accord. 
+
+Thirdly, the hopeof evading such taxes by smuggling, gives fre- 
+quent occasion to forfeitures and other penalties, which entirely 
+ruin thesmuggler; a person who, though no doubt highly blame- 
+able for violating the laws of his country, is frequently incapable 
+of vi dating those of natural justice, and would have been, in every 
+respect, an excellent citizen, had not the laws of his country made 
+that a crime which nature never meant to be so. In those cor- 
+rupted governments, where there is at least a general suspicion of 
+much unnecessary expense, and great misapplication of the pub- 
+
+
+
+lic revenue, the laws which guard it are little respected. N ot many 
+people are scrupulous about smuggling, when, without perjury, 
+they can find an easy and safe opportunity of doing so. To pretend 
+to have any scrupleabout buying smuggled goods, though a mani- 
+fest encouragement to the violation of the revenue laws, and to 
+the perjury which almost always attends it, would, in most coun- 
+tries, be regarded as oneof those pedanticpiecesof hypocrisy which, 
+instead of gaining credit with anybody, serve only to expose the 
+person who affects to practise them to the suspicion of being a 
+greater knave than most of his neighbours. By this indulgence of 
+the public, thesmuggler is often encouraged to continue a trade, 
+which heisthustaught to consider asin some measure innocent; 
+and when the severity of the revenue laws is ready to fall upon 
+him, he is frequently disposed to defend with violence, what he 
+has been accustomed to regard as hisjust property. From being at 
+first, perhaps, rather imprudent than criminal, he at last too often 
+becomes oneof the hardiest and most determined violators of the 
+laws of society. By the ruin of the smuggler, hiscapital, which had 
+before been employed in maintaining productive labour, is ab- 
+sorbed either in the revenue of the state, or in that of the revenue 
+officer; and isemployed in maintaining unproductive, to thedimi- 
+nution of the general capital of the society, and of the useful in- 
+dustry which it might otherwise have maintained. 
+
+
+
+740 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+Fourthly, such taxes, by subjecting at least the dealers in the 
+taxed commodities, to thefrequentvi sits and odious examination 
+of the tax-gatherers, expose them sometimes, no doubt, to some 
+degree of oppression, and always to much trouble and vexation; 
+and though vexation, as has already been said, is not strictly speak- 
+ing expense, it is certainly equivalent to the expense at which ev- 
+ery man would be willing to redeem himself from it. The laws of 
+excise, though more effectual for the purpose for which they were 
+instituted, are, in this respect, more vexatious than those of the 
+customs. W hen a merchant hasimported goods subject to certain 
+duties of customs; when he has paid those duties, and lodged the 
+goods in his warehouse; he is not, in most cases, liable to any 
+further trouble or vexation from the custom-house officer. It is 
+otherwise with goods subject to duties of excise. The dealers have 
+no respite from thecontinual visits and examination of theexcise 
+officers. The duties of excise are, upon this account, more un- 
+popular than those of the customs; and so are the officers who 
+levy them. Those officers, it is pretended, though in general, per- 
+haps, they do their duty fully as well as those of the customs; yet, 
+as that duty obliges them to be frequently very troublesome to 
+some of their neighbours, commonly contract a certain hardness 
+of character, which the others frequently have not. This observa- 
+tion, however, may very probably be themeresuggestion of fraudu- 
+
+
+
+lent dealers, whose smuggling is either prevented or detected by 
+their diligence. 
+
+Theinconveniencies, however, which are, perhaps, in some de- 
+gree inseparable from taxes upon consumable communities, fall 
+as light upon the people of Great Britain as upon those of any 
+other country of which the government is nearly as expensive. 
+Our state is not perfect, and might be mended; but it is as good, 
+or better, than that of most of our neighbours. 
+
+In consequence of the notion, that duties upon consumable 
+goods were taxes upon the profits of merchants, those duties have, 
+in some countries, been repeated upon every successive sale of the 
+goods. I f the prof its of the merchant-i mporter or merchant-manu- 
+facturer were taxed, equality seemed to requirethatthoseof all the 
+middle buyers, who intervened between either of them and the 
+consumer, should likewise betaxed.Thefamousalcavala of Spain 
+seems to have been established upon thisprinciple. 1 1 was at f i rst a 
+tax of ten per cent, afterwards of fourteen per cent, and it is at 
+present only six per cent, upon the sale of every sort of property 
+whether moveable or immoveable; and it is repeated every time 
+the property is sold. {M em o ires concern ant les D roits, etc. torn, i, 
+p. 15}T he levying of this tax requires a multitude of revenue of- 
+ficers, sufficient to guard the transportation of goods, not only 
+from one province to another, but from one shop to another. It 
+
+
+
+741 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+subjects, not only the dealers in some sorts of goods, butthosein 
+all sorts, every farmer, every manufacturer, every merchant and 
+shopkeeper, tothecontinual visit and examination of thetax-gath- 
+erers. Through the greater part of the country in which a tax of 
+this kind is established, nothing can be produced for distant sale. 
+Theproduceof every part of thecountry must be proportioned to 
+the consumption of the neighbourhood. It is to the alcavala, ac- 
+cordingly, that Ustaritz imputes the ruin of the manufactures of 
+Spain. He might have imputed to it, likewise, the declension of 
+agriculture, it being imposed not only upon manufactures, but 
+upon the rude produce of the land. 
+
+In the kingdom of Naples, there is a similar tax of three per 
+cent, upon thevalueof all contracts, and consequently upon that 
+of all contracts of sale. It is both lighter than the Spanish tax, and 
+thegreater part of townsand parishes are allowed to pay a compo- 
+sition in lieu of it. They levy this composition in what manner 
+they please, generally in a way that gives no interruption to the 
+interior commerce of the place. The N eapolitan tax, therefore, is 
+notnearsoruinousastheSpanish one. 
+
+The uniform system of taxation, which, with a few exception of 
+no great consequence, takes place in all the different parts of the 
+united kingdom of Great Britain, leaves the interior commerceof 
+the country, the inland and coasting trade, almost entirely free. 
+
+
+
+The inland trade is almost perfectly free; and the greater part of 
+goods may be carried from one end of the kingdom to the other, 
+without requiring any permit or let-pass, without being subject to 
+question, visit or examination, from the revenue officers There 
+are a few exceptions, but they are such as can give no interruption 
+to any important branch of inland commerceof thecountry. Goods 
+carried coastwise, indeed, require certificates or coast-cockets. If 
+you except coals, however, the rest are almost all duty-free. This 
+freedom of interior commerce, the effect of the uniformity of the 
+system of taxation, is perhaps one of the principal causes of the 
+prosperity of Great Britain; every great country being necessarily 
+the best and most extensive market for the greater part of the pro- 
+ductions of its own industry. If the same freedom in consequence 
+of thesameuniformity, could be extended to I reland and theplan- 
+tations, both thegrandeur of thestate, and the prosperity of every 
+part of theempire, would probably be still greater than at present. 
+In France, the different revenue laws which take place in the 
+different provinces, requireamultitudeof revenueofficers to sur- 
+round, not only thefrontiersof thekingdom, but those of almost 
+each particular province, in order either to prevent the importa- 
+tion of certain goods, or to subject it to the payment of certain 
+duties, to the no small interruption of the interior commerce of 
+the country. Some provinces are allowed to compound for the 
+
+
+
+742 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+gabelle, or salt tax; others are exempted from it altogether. Some 
+provinces are exempted from the exclusive sale of tobacco, which 
+the farmers- general enjoy through the greater part of the king- 
+dom. The aides, which correspond to the excise in England, are 
+very different in different provinces. Someprovinces are exempted 
+from them, and pay a composition or equivalent. Inthosein which 
+they take place, and arein farm, there are many local duties which 
+do not extend beyond a particular town or district. The traites, 
+which correspond to our customs, divide the kingdom into three 
+great parts; first, the provinces subject to the tariff of 1664, which 
+are called the provinces of the five great farms, and under which 
+are comprehended Picardy, Normandy, and the greater part of the 
+interior provincesofthekingdom; secondly, theprovinces subject 
+tothetariff of 1667, which are called the provinces reckoned for- 
+eign, and under which are comprehended the greater part of the 
+frontier provinces; and, thirdly, those provinces which are said to 
+be treated as foreign, or which, because they are allowed a free 
+commerce with foreign countries, are, in their commerce with the 
+other provinces of France, subjected to the same duties as other 
+foreign countries. These are Alsace, thethree bishoprics of M entz, 
+Toul, and Verdun, and thethree cities of Dunkirk, Bayonne, and 
+M arseilles. Both in theprovinces of thefive great farms(called so 
+on account of an ancient division of the duties of customs into 
+
+
+
+five great branches, each of which was originally the subject of a 
+particular farm, though they are now all united into one), and in 
+those which are said to be reckoned foreign, there are many local 
+duties which do not extend beyond a particular town or district. 
+There are some such even in the provinces which are said to be 
+treated as foreign, particularly in the city of Marseilles. It is un- 
+necessary to observe how much both the restraints upon the inte- 
+rior commerce of the country, and the number of the revenue 
+officers, must be multiplied, in order to guard the frontiers of 
+those different provinces and districts which are subject to such 
+different systems of taxation . 
+
+Over and above the general restraints arising from this compli- 
+cated system of revenue laws, the commerce of wine (after corn, 
+perhaps, themost important production of France) is, in thegreater 
+part of theprovinces, subject to particular restraints arising from 
+the favour which has been shown to the vineyards of particular 
+provinces and districts above those of others. T he provinces most 
+famous for their wines, it will be found, I believe, are those in 
+which thetrade in that article is subject to the fewest restraints of 
+this kind. The extensive market which such provinces enjoy, en- 
+courages good management both in the cultivation of their vine- 
+yards, and in the subsequent preparation of their wines. 
+
+Such various and complicated revenue laws are not peculiar to 
+
+
+
+743 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+France. The little duchy of M Nan is divided into six provinces, in 
+each of which there is a different system of taxation, with regard to 
+several different sortsof consumablegoods.Thestill smaller territo- 
+ries of the duke of Parma are divided into three or four, each of 
+which has, in the same manner, a system of its own. Under such 
+absurd management, nothing but thegreat fertility of thesoil, and 
+happiness of the climate, could preserve such countries from soon 
+relapsing into the lowest state of poverty and barbarism. 
+
+Taxes upon consumable commodities may either he levied by 
+an administration, of which the officers are appointed by 
+government, and are immediately accountableto government, of 
+which the revenue must, in this case, vary from year to year, ac- 
+cording to the occasional variations in the produce of the tax; or 
+they may be let in farm for a rent certain, the farmer being al- 
+lowed to appoint his own officers, who, though obliged to levy 
+thetaxin themanner directed bythelaw, areunderhisimmediate 
+inspection, and are immediately accountableto him. T hebest and 
+most frugal way of levying a tax can never be by farm. ver and 
+above what isnecessary for paying the stipulated rent, the salaries 
+of theofficers, and the wholeexpenseof administration, thefarmer 
+must always draw from the produce of the tax a certain profit, 
+proportioned at least to the advance which he makes, to the risk 
+which heruns, tothetroublewhich heisat, and to the knowledge 
+
+
+
+and skill which it requires to manage so very complicated a con- 
+cern. Government, by establishing an administration under their 
+own immediate inspection, of thesamekind with that which the 
+farmer establishes, might at least save this profit, which is almost 
+alwaysexorbitant.Tofarm any considerable branch of the public 
+revenue requires either a great capital, or a great credit; circum- 
+stances which would alone restrain the competition for such an 
+undertaking to a very small number of people. Of the few who 
+have this capital or credit, a still smaller number have the neces- 
+sary knowledge or experience; another circumstance which restrains 
+the com petition still further. The very few who arein condition to 
+become competitors, find it more for their interest to combine 
+together; to become copartners, instead of competitors; and, when 
+the farm is set up to auction, to offer no rent but what is much 
+below the real value. In countries where the public revenues are in 
+farm, the farmers are generally the most opulent people. Their 
+wealth would alone excite the public indignation; and the vanity 
+which almost always accompanies such upstart fortunes, thefool- 
+ish ostentation with which they commonly display that wealth, 
+excite that indignation still more. 
+
+The farmers of the public revenue never find the laws too se- 
+vere, which punish any attempt to evade the payment of a tax. 
+T hey have no bowels for the contributors, who are not their sub- 
+
+
+
+744 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+jects, and whose universal bankruptcy, if it should happen theday 
+after the farm is expired, would not much affect their interest. In 
+the greatest exigencies of the state, when the anxiety of the sover- 
+eign for the exact payment of his revenue is necessarily the great- 
+est, they seldom fail to complain, that without laws more rigorous 
+than those which actually took place, it will be impossible for 
+them to pay even the usual rent. In those moments of public dis- 
+tress, their commandscannot bedisputed. The revenue laws, there- 
+fore, become gradually more and more severe. T he most sangui- 
+nary are always to be found in countries where thegreater part of 
+the public revenue is in farm; the mildest, in countries where it is 
+levied under the immediate inspection of the sovereign. Even a 
+bad sovereign feels more compassion for his people than can ever 
+be expected from the farmers of his revenue. H e knows that the 
+permanent grandeur of hisfamily depends upon the prosperity of 
+his people, and he will never knowingly ruin that prosperity for 
+the sake of any momentary interest of his own. It is otherwise 
+with the farmers of his revenue, whose grandeur may frequently 
+be the effect of the ruin, and not of the prosperity, of his people. 
+A tax is sometimes not only farmed for a certain rent, but the 
+farmer has, besides, the monopoly of the commodity taxed. In 
+France, thedutiesupon tobacco and salt arelevied in thismanner. 
+In such cases, the farmer, instead of one, levies two exorbitant 
+
+
+
+profitsupon thepeople; theprofitof thefarmer, and the still more 
+exorbitant one of the monopolist. Tobacco being a luxury, every 
+man is allowed to buy or not to buy as he chuses; but salt being a 
+necessary, every man isobliged to buy of thefarmer a certain quan- 
+tity of it; because, if hedid not buy thisquantity of thefarmer, he 
+would, it is presumed, buy it of some smuggler. T he taxes upon 
+both commodities are exorbitant. The temptation to smuggle, 
+consequently, is to many people irresistible; while, at the same 
+time, the rigour of the law, and the vigilance of the farmer's offic- 
+ers, render the yielding to the temptation almost certainly ruin- 
+ous. The smuggling of salt and tobacco sends every year several 
+hundred people to the gal leys, besides a very considerable number 
+whom it sends to the gibbet. Those taxes, levied in thismanner, 
+yield a very considerable revenue to government. In 1767, the 
+farm of tobacco was let for twenty-two millionsfive hundred and 
+forty-one thousand two hundred and seventy-eight livresa-year; 
+that of salt for thirty-six millions four hundred and ninety-two 
+thousand four hundred and four livres. The farm, in both cases, 
+was to commence in 1768, and to last for six years. Those who 
+consider the blood of the people as nothing, in comparison with 
+the revenue of the prince, may, perhaps, approve of this method 
+of levying taxes. Similar taxes and monopolies of salt and tobacco 
+have been established in many other countries, particularly in the 
+
+
+
+745 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+Austrian and Prussian dominions, and in the greater part of the 
+states of Italy. 
+
+In France, th e greater part of the actual revenue of the crown is 
+derived from eight different sources; thetaille, the capitation, the 
+two vingtiemes, the gabelles, the aides, thetraites, thedomaine, 
+and thefarm of tobacco. T he livelast are, i n th e greater p art of th e 
+provinces, under farm. Thethree first are everywhere levied by an 
+administration, under the immediate inspection and direction of 
+government; and it is universally acknowledged, that in propor- 
+tion to what they takeout of the pockets of the people, they bring 
+moreintothetreasuryof theprincethan theother five, of which 
+the administration is much more wasteful and expensive. 
+
+The finances of France seem, in their present state, to admit of 
+three very obvious reformations. First, by abolishing thetailleand 
+the capitation, and byincreasingthenumberof the vingtiemes, so 
+as to produce an additional revenue equal to the amount of those 
+other taxes, the revenue of the crown might be preserved; the ex- 
+pense of collection might be much diminished; the vexation of 
+theinferior ranksof people, which thetailleand capitation occa- 
+sion, might be entirely prevented; and the superior ranks might 
+not bemore burdened than thegreater part of them are at present. 
+Thevingtieme, I have already observed, isa tax very nearly of the 
+same kind with what is called the land tax of England. T he bur- 
+
+
+
+den of thetaille, it is acknowledged, fallsfinally upon thepropri- 
+etors of land; and as the greater part of the capitation is assessed 
+upon those who are subject to thetaille, at so much a-pound of 
+that other tax, the final payment of the greater part of it must 
+likewise fall upon the same order of people. Though the number 
+of the vingtiemes, therefore, was increased, so as to produce an 
+additional revenue equal to the amount of both those taxes, the 
+superior ranks of people might not be more burdened than they 
+are at present; many individuals, no doubt, would, on account of 
+the great inequalities with which thetaille is commonly assessed 
+upon the estates and ten ants of different individuals. The interest 
+and opposition of such favoured subjects, are the obstacles most 
+likely to prevent this, or any other reformation of the same kind. 
+Secondly, by rendering the gabel I e, theaides, thetraites, the taxes 
+upon tobacco, all thedifferentcustomsand excises, uniform in all 
+the different parts of the kingdom, those taxes might be levied at 
+much less expense, and the interior commerce of the kingdom 
+might be rendered as free as that of England. Thirdly, and lastly, 
+by subjecting all those taxes to an administration under the im- 
+mediate inspection and direction or government, the exorbitant 
+profits of the farmers- general might be added to the revenue of 
+the state. The opposition arising from the private interest of indi- 
+viduals, islikely to be as effectual for preventing thetwo last as the 
+
+
+
+746 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+first-mentioned scheme of reformation. 
+
+The French system of taxation seems, in every respect, inferior 
+to the British. In Great Britain, ten millions sterling are annually 
+levied upon less than eight millions of people, without its being 
+possible to say that any particular order is oppressed. From the 
+Collections of the Abbe Expilly, and the observations of the au- 
+thor of the Essay upon the Legislation and C ommerceof C orn, it 
+appears probablethat France, including the provinces of Lorraine 
+and Bar, contains about twenty-three or twenty-four millions of 
+people; three times thenumber, perhaps, contained in Great Brit- 
+ain. The soil and dim ate of France are better than those of Great 
+Britain. The country has been much longer in a state of improve 
+ment and cultivation, and is, upon that account, better stocked 
+with all those things which it requires a long time to raise up and 
+accumulate; such as great towns, and convenient and well-built 
+houses, both in town and country. W ith these advantages, it might 
+be expected, that in France a revenue of thirty millions might be 
+levied for thesupport of thestate, with aslittleinconvenienceasa 
+revenueoften millions is in Great Britain. In 1765 and 1766, the 
+whole revenue paid into the treasury of France, according to the 
+best, though, I acknowledge, very imperfect accounts which I could 
+get of it, usually run between 308 and 325 millionsof livres; that 
+is, it did not amount to fifteen millions sterling; not the half of 
+
+
+
+what might have been expected, had the people contributed in 
+thesame proportion to their numbers as the people of Great Brit- 
+ain. The people of France, however, it is generally acknowledged, 
+are much more oppressed by taxes than the people of G reat Brit- 
+ain. France, however, iscertainlythegreatempirein Europe, which, 
+after that of Great Britain, enjoys the mildest and most indulgent 
+government. 
+
+I n H olland, the heavy taxes upon the necessaries of life have ru- 
+ined, it is said, their principal manufacturers, and are likely to dis- 
+courage, gradually, even theirfisheriesand theirtradein ship-build- 
+in g. T h e taxes u pon th e n ecessari es of I i fe are i n con si d erabl e i n G reat 
+Britain, and no manufacturehashitherto been ruined bythem. The 
+British taxes which bear hardest on manufactures, are some duties 
+upon the importation of raw materials, particularly upon that of 
+raw silk. The revenue of the States-General and of the different cit- 
+ies, however, issaid to amount to more than fivemillionstwo hun- 
+dred and fifty thousand pounds sterling; and as the inhabitants of 
+the U nited Provinces cannot well be supposed to amount to more 
+than athird part of thoseof Great Britain, they must, in proportion 
+to their number, be much more heavily taxed. 
+
+After all the proper subjects of taxation have been exhausted, if 
+the exigencies of the state still continueto require new taxes, they 
+must be imposed upon improper ones. Thetaxes upon the neces- 
+
+
+
+747 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+sariesof life, therefore, may be no impeachment of the wisdom of 
+that republic, which, in order to acquire and to maintain itsinde- 
+pendency, has, in spite of its meat frugality, been involved in such 
+expensive wars as have obliged it to contract great debts. T he sin- 
+gular countries of H olland and Zealand, besides, requirea consid- 
+erable expense even to preserve their existence, or to preventtheir 
+being swallowed up by the sea, which must have contributed to 
+increase considerably the load of taxesin those two provinces.The 
+republican form of government seems to be the principal support 
+of the present grandeur of H olland. T he owners of great capitals, 
+the great mercantile families, have generally either some direct 
+share, or some indirect influence, in the administration of that 
+government. For the sake of the respect and authority which they 
+derive from this situation, they are willing to live in a country 
+where their capital, if they employ it thansdves, will bring them 
+less profit, and if they lend it to another, less interest; and where 
+the very moderate revenue which they can draw from it will pur- 
+chase I ess of the necessaries and conveniencies of life than in any 
+other part of Europe. Theresidenceof such wealthy peopleneces- 
+sarily keeps alive, in spite of all disadvantages, a certain degree of 
+industry in the country. Any public calamity which should de- 
+stroy the republican form of government, which should throw the 
+whole administration into the hands of nobles and of soldiers, 
+
+
+
+which should annihilate altogether theimportanceof thosewealthy 
+merchants, would soon render it disagreeable to them to live in a 
+country where they were no longer likdy to be much respected. 
+They would remove both thar residence and thar capital to some 
+other country, and the industry and commerce of H olland would 
+soon follow the capitals which supported them. 
+
+
+
+748 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III 
+
+OF PUBLIC DEBTS 
+
+In that rude state of society which precedes the extension of 
+commerce and the improvement of manufactures; when those ex- 
+pensive luxuries, which commerce and manufactures can alone 
+introduce, are altogether unknown; the person who possesses a 
+large revenue, I have endeavoured to show in the third book of 
+this Inquiry, can spend or enjoy that revenue in no other way than 
+by maintaining nearly as many people as it can maintain. A large 
+revenue may at all times be said to consist in the command of a 
+largequantity of thenecessariesof life. In that rudestate of things, 
+itiscommonlypaid in a large quantity of those necessaries, in the 
+materials of plain food and coarse clothing, in corn and cattle, in 
+wool and raw hides. When neither commerce nor manufactures 
+furnish any thing for which the owner can exchange the greater 
+part of those materials which are over and above his own con- 
+sumption, hecan do nothing with thesurplus, but feed and clothe 
+nearly as many people as it will feed and clothe. A hospitality in 
+which there is no luxury, and a liberality in which there is no 
+ostentation, occasion, in this situation of things, the principal ex- 
+penses of the rich and the great. Butthesel have I ikewise endeav- 
+
+
+
+oured to show, in thesamebook, are expenses by which peopleare 
+not very apt to ruin themselves. There is not, perhaps, any selfish 
+pleasure so frivolous, of which the pursuit has not sometimes ru- 
+ined even sensible men. A passion for cock-fighting has ruined 
+many. But the instances, I believe, arenot very numerous, of people 
+who have been ruined by a hospitality or liberality of this kind; 
+though the hospitality of luxury, and the liberality of ostentation 
+have ruined many. Among our feudal ancestors, the long time 
+during which estates used to continue in the same family, suffi- 
+ciently demonstrates thegeneral disposition of peopleto livewithin 
+their income. Though the rustic hospitality, constantly exercised 
+by thegreat landholders, may not, to usin the present times, seem 
+consistent with that order which we are apt to consider as insepa- 
+rably connected with good economy; yet we must certainly allow 
+them to have been at least so far frugal, as not commonly to have 
+spent their whole income. A part of their wool and rawhides, they 
+had generally an opportunity of selling for money. Some part of 
+this money, perhaps, they spent in purchasing the few objects of 
+vanity and luxury, with which thecircumstancesofthetimescould 
+furnish them; but some part of it they seem commonly to have 
+hoarded. They could not well, indeed, do anything else but hoard 
+whatever money they saved. To trade, was disgraceful to a gentle- 
+man; and to lend money at interest, which at that time was con- 
+
+
+
+749 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+sidered asusury, and prohibited bylaw, would have been still more 
+so. In those times of violence and disorder, besides, it was conve- 
+nient to have a hoard of money at hand, that in case they should 
+be driven from their own home, they might have something of 
+known valueto carry with them to some placeof safety. The same 
+violence which made it convenient to hoard, made it equally con- 
+venient to conceal the hoard. The frequency of treasure-trove, or 
+of treasurefound, of which no owner was known, sufficiently dem- 
+onstrates the frequency, in those times, both of hoarding and of 
+concealing the hoard. Treasure-trove was then considered as an 
+important branch of the revenueof the sovereign. All thetreasure- 
+trove of the kingdom would scarce, perhaps, in the present times, 
+make an important branch of the revenue of a private gentleman 
+of a good estate. 
+
+The same disposition, to save and to hoard, prevailed in the 
+sovereign, as well as in the subjects. Among nations, to whom 
+commerce and manufacture are little known, the sovereign, it has 
+already been observed in the Fourth book, is in a situation which 
+naturally disposes him to the parsimony requisite for accumula- 
+tion. In that situation, the expense, even of a sovereign, cannot be 
+directed by that vanity which delights in the gaudy finery of a 
+court.Theignoranceofthetimesaffordsbutfewofthetrinketsin 
+which that finery consists. Standing armies are not then neces- 
+
+
+
+sary; so that the expense, even of asovereign, likethatof anyother 
+great lord can be employed in scarce any thing but bounty to his 
+tenants, and hospitality to his retainers. But bounty and hospital- 
+ity very seldom lead to extravagance; though vanity almost always 
+does. All the ancient sovereigns of Europe, accordingly, it has al- 
+ready been observed, had treasures. Every Tartar chief, in thepresent 
+times, is said to have one. 
+
+I n a commercial country, abounding with every sort of expen- 
+sive luxury, the sovereign, in the same manner as almost all the 
+great proprietors in his dominions, naturally spends a great part 
+of his revenue in purchasing those luxuries. H is own and the 
+neighbouring countries supply him abundantly with all thecostly 
+trinkets which composethesplendid, but insignificant, pageantry 
+of acourt. For the sake of an inferior pageantry of thesamekind, 
+hisnoblesdismiss their retainers, make their tenants independent, 
+and become gradually themselves as insignificant as the greater 
+part of the wealthy burghers in hisdominions.Thesamefrivolous 
+passions, which influencetheir conduct, influencehis. H ow can it 
+be supposed that heshould betheonly rich man in hisdominions 
+who isinsensibleto pleasuresof thiskind? If hedoesnot, what he 
+is very likely to do, spend upon those pleasures so great a part of 
+his revenue as to debilitate very much the defensive power of the 
+state, it cannot well be expected that he should not spend upon 
+
+
+
+750 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+them all that part of it which is over and above what is necessary 
+for supporting that defensive power. H is ordinary expense becomes 
+equal to his ordinary revenue, and it is well if it does not fre- 
+quently exceed it. T he amassing of treasure can no longer be ex- 
+pected; and when extraordinary exigencies require extraordinary 
+expenses, hemust necessarily call upon hissubjectsfor an extraor- 
+dinary aid. The present and the late king of Prussia are the only 
+great princes of Europe, who, since the death of H enry IV. of 
+France, in 1610, are supposed to have amassed any considerable 
+treasure. The parsimony which leadsto accumulation has become 
+almost as rare in republican as in monarchical governments. The 
+Italian republics, the United Provinces of the Netherlands, are all 
+in debt. Thecanton of Berneisthesinglerepublic in Europe which 
+has amassed any considerable treasure. T he other Swiss republics 
+havenot.Thetasteforsomesortof pageantry, for splendid build- 
+ings, at least, and other public ornaments, frequently prevails as 
+much in the apparently sober senate-house of a little republic, as 
+in the dissipated court of the greatest king. 
+
+Thewant of parsimony, in timeof peace, imposes the necessity 
+of contracting debt in timeof war. When war comes, there is no 
+money in the treasury, but what is necessary for carrying on the 
+ordinary expense of the peace establishment. In war, an establish- 
+ment of three or four times that expense becomes necessary for 
+
+
+
+the defence of the state; and consequently, a revenue three or four 
+times greater than the peace revenue. Supposing that the sover- 
+eign should have, what hescarce ever has, theimmediatemeansof 
+augmenting his revenue in proportion to the augmentation of his 
+expense; yet still the produce of the taxes, from which thisincrease 
+of revenue must be drawn, will not begin to come into the trea- 
+sury, till perhaps ten ortwelvemonthsaftertheyareimposed. But 
+the moment in which war begins, or rather the moment in which 
+it appears likely to begin, the army must be augmented, the fleet 
+must befitted out, the garrisoned towns must be put intoapos- 
+tu re of defence; that army, that fleet, those garrisoned towns, must 
+be furnished with arms, ammunition, and provisions. An imme- 
+diate and great expense must be incurred in that moment of im- 
+mediate danger, which will not wait for the gradual and slow re- 
+turns of the new taxes. In this exigency, government can have no 
+other resource but in borrowing. 
+
+T he same commercial state of society which, by the operation 
+of moral causes, brings government in thismanner into theneces- 
+sity of borrowing, produces in the subjects both an ability and an 
+inclination to lend. If it commonly bringsalong with ittheneces- 
+sity of borrowing, itlikewisebringswith it thefacility of doing so. 
+
+A country abounding with merchants and manufacturers, nec- 
+essarily abounds with a set of people through whose hands, not 
+
+
+
+751 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+only their own capitals, but the capitals of all those who either 
+lend them money, or trust them with goods, pass as frequently, or 
+more frequently, than the revenue of a private man, who, without 
+tradeor business, livesupon hisincome, passes through hishands. 
+The revenue of such a man can regularly pass through hishands 
+only once in a year. But the whole amount of the capital and 
+credit of a merchant, who deals in a trade of which the returns are 
+very quick, may sometimes pass through his hands two, three, or 
+four times in a year. A country abounding with merchants and 
+manufacturers, therefore, necessarily aboundswith aset of people, 
+who have it at all times in their power to advance, if they chuseto 
+do so, a very large sum of money to government. Hence the abil- 
+ity in the subjects of a commercial state to lend. 
+
+Commerce and manufactures can seldom flourish long in any 
+state which does not enjoy a regular administration of justice; in 
+which the people do not feel themselves secure in the possession 
+of their property; in which thefaith of contracts is not supported 
+bylaw; and in which the authority of the state is not supposed to 
+be regularly employed in enforcing the payment of debts from all 
+those who areableto pay. Commerce and manufactures, in short, 
+can seldom flourish in any state, in which there is not a certain 
+degree of confidence in thejustice of government. The same con- 
+fidence which disposes great merchants and manufacturers upon 
+
+
+
+ordinary occasions, to trust their property to the protection of a 
+particular government, disposes them, upon extraordinary occa- 
+sions, to trust that government with the use of their property. By 
+lending money to government, they do not even for a moment 
+diminish their ability to carry on theirtradeand manufactures; on 
+the contrary, they commonly augment it. The necessities of the 
+state render government, upon most occasions willing to borrow 
+upon terms extremely advantageous to the lender. The security 
+which it grants to theoriginal creditor, is made transferable to any 
+other creditor; and from the universal confidence in thejustice of 
+thestate, generally sellsin themarket for more than was originally 
+paid for it. T he merchant or monied man makes money by lend- 
+ing money to government, and instead of diminishing, increases 
+histrading capital. H e generally considers it asa favour, therefore, 
+when the administration admits him to a share in the first sub- 
+scription for a new loan. Hence the inclination or willingness in 
+the subjects of a commercial state to lend. 
+
+T he government of such a state is very apt to repose itself upon 
+thisabilityand willingness of its subjects to lend it theirmoney on 
+extraordinary occasions. It foresees the facility of borrowing, and 
+therefore dispenses itself from the duty of saving. 
+
+I n a rude state of society, there areno great mercantileor manu- 
+facturing capitals. The individuals, who hoard whatever money 
+
+
+
+752 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+they can save, and who conceal their hoard, do so from a distrust 
+of the justice of government; from a fear, that if it was known that 
+they had a hoard, and where that hoard was to be found, they 
+would quickly be plundered. In such a state of things, few people 
+would be able, and nobody would be willing to lend their money 
+to government on extraordinary exigencies. The sovereign feels 
+that he must provide for such exigencies by saving, because he 
+foresees the absolute impossibility of borrowing. This foresight 
+increases still further his natural disposition to save. 
+
+T he progress of the enormous debts which at present oppress, 
+and will in the long-run probably ruin, all the great nations of 
+Europe, has been pretty uniform. Nations, like private men, have 
+generally begun to borrow upon what may becalled personal credit, 
+without assigning or mortgaging any particular fund for the pay- 
+ment of the debt; and when this resource has failed them, they 
+have gone on to borrow upon assignments or mortgages of par- 
+ticular funds. 
+
+W hat iscalled theunfunded debt of Great Britain, iscontracted 
+in theformer of those two ways. It consists partly in a debt which 
+bears, or issupposed to bear, no interest, and which resembles the 
+debts that a private man contracts upon account; and partly in a 
+debt which bears interest, and which resembles what a private man 
+contracts upon his bill or promissory-note. The debts which are 
+
+
+
+due, either for extraordinary services, or for services either not 
+provided for, or not paid at the time when they are performed; 
+part of the extraordinaries of the army, navy, and ordnance, the 
+arrears of subsidies to foreign princes, those of seamen's wages, 
+etc. usually constitute a debt of thefirst kind. Navy and exchequer 
+bills, which are issued sometimes in payment of a part of such 
+debts, and sometimes for other purposes, constitute a debt of the 
+second kind; exchequer billsbearing interest from thedayon which 
+they are issued, and navy bills six months after they are issued. 
+T hebank of England, ather by voluntarily discounting those bills 
+at their current value, or by agreeing with government for certain 
+considerationsto circulate exchequer bills, that is, to receive them 
+at par, paying the interest which happens to be due upon them, 
+keeps up their value, and facilitates their circulation, and thereby 
+frequently enables government to contract a very largedebt of this 
+kind. In France, where there is no bank, the state bills (billets 
+d'etat {See Examen des Reflections Politiques sur les Finances.}) 
+have sometimes sold at sixty and seventy per cent, discount. Dur- 
+ing the great recoinage in king William's time, when the bank of 
+England thought proper to put a stop to its usual transactions, 
+exchequer billsand tallies are said to have sold from twenty-five to 
+sixty per cent, discount; owing partly, no doubt, to the supposed 
+instability of the new government established by the Revolution, 
+
+
+
+753 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+but partly, too, tothewantofthesupportofthebankof England. 
+
+W hen this resource is exhausted, and it becomes necessary, in 
+order to raise money, to assign or mortgage someparticular branch 
+of the public revenue for the payment of the debt, government 
+has, upon different occasions, done this in two different ways. 
+Sometimes it has made this assignment or mortgage for a short 
+period of time only, a year, or a few years, for example; and some- 
+times for perpetuity. In theonecase, thefund was supposed suffi- 
+cient to pay, within the limited time, both principal and interest 
+of the money borrowed. In theother, it was supposed sufficientto 
+pay the interest only, or a perpetual annuity equivalent to the in- 
+terest, government being at liberty to redeem, at any time, this 
+annuity, upon paying back the principal sum borrowed. When 
+money was raised in theoneway, it was said to beraised by antici- 
+pation; when in theother, by perpetual funding, or, more shortly, 
+by funding. 
+
+In Great Britain, the annual land and malt taxes are regularly 
+anticipated every year, by virtue of a borrowing clause constantly 
+inserted into the acts which impose them. The bank of England 
+generally advances at an interest, which, sincethe Revolution, has 
+varied from eight to three per cent., thesums of which those taxes 
+are granted, and receives payment astheirproducegradually comes 
+in. If there is a deficiency, which there always is, it is provided for 
+
+
+
+in the supplies of the ensuing year. T he only considerable branch 
+of the public revenue which yet remains unmortgaged, is thus 
+regularly spent before it comes in. Like an improvident spend- 
+thrift, whose pressing occasions will not allow him to wait for the 
+regular payment of his revenue, the state is in the constant prac- 
+tice of borrowing of its own factors and agents, and of paying 
+interest for the use of its own money. 
+
+In the reign of king William, and during a great part of that of 
+queen Anne, beforewehad becomeso familiar aswearenow with 
+thepracticeof perpetual funding, thegreater part of the new taxes 
+were imposed but for a short period of time (for four, five, six, or 
+seven years only), and a great part of the grants of every year con- 
+sisted in loans upon anticipations of the produce of those taxes. 
+The producebeing frequently insufficient for paying, within the 
+limited term, the principal and interest of the money borrowed, 
+deficiencies arose; to make good which, it became necessary to 
+prolong the term. 
+
+I n 1697, by the 8th of William 1 1 1 ., c. 20, the deficiencies of 
+several taxes were charged upon what was then called the first 
+general mortgageorfund, consisting of a prolongation to thefirst 
+of August 1706, of several different taxes, which would have ex- 
+pired within a shorter term, and of which the produce was accu- 
+mulated into one general fund. The deficiencies charged upon 
+
+
+
+754 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+this prolonged term amounted to £5,160,459: 14: 9V2. 
+
+In 1701, those duties, with some others, were still further pro- 
+longed, for the like purposes, till the first of August 1710, and 
+were called the second general mortgageorfund.Thedeficiencies 
+charged upon it amounted to £2,055,999: 7: 11%. 
+
+In 1707, thoseduties were still further prolonged, as a fund for 
+new loans, to thefirst of August 1712, and were called the third 
+general mortgage or fund. The sum borrowed upon it was 
+£983,254:ll:9y4. 
+
+In 1708, those duties were all (except the old subsidy of ton- 
+nage and poundage, of which one moiety only was made a part of 
+thisfund, and a duty upon the importation of Scotch linen, which 
+had been taken off by the articles of union) still further contin- 
+ued, asafund for new loans, to thefirst of August 1714, and were 
+called the fourth general mortgage or fund. The sum borrowed 
+uponitwas£925,176:9:2y4. 
+
+I n 1709, those duties were all ( except the old subsidy of ton- 
+nage and poundage, which was now left out of this fund alto- 
+gether ) still further continued, for the same purpose, to thefirst 
+of August 1716, and were called the fifth general mortgage or 
+fund. The sum borrowed upon it was f 922,029:6s. 
+
+I n 1710, those duties were again prolonged to the first of Au- 
+gust 1720, and were called the sixth general mortgage or fund. 
+
+
+
+The sum borrowed upon it was £l,296,552:9:ll 3 /4. 
+
+In 1711, the same duties (which at this time were thus subject 
+to four different anticipations), together with several others, were 
+continued for ever, and madeafundforpayingtheinterestofthe 
+capital of the South-sea company, which had that year advanced 
+to government, for paying debts, and making good deficiencies, 
+thesum of £9,177,967:15:4d, thegreatest loan which at that time 
+had ever been made. 
+
+Before this period, the principal, so far as I have been able to 
+observe, the only taxes, which, in orderto paytheinterestof adebt, 
+had been imposed for perpetuity, were those for paying theinterest 
+of themoney which had been advanced to government by thebank 
+and East-India company, and of what it was expected would be 
+advanced, but which was never advanced, by a projected land bank. 
+The bank fund at this time amounted to£3,375,027:17:10 1 /2 I for 
+which was paid an annuity or interest of £206,501:15:5d.TheEast- 
+I ndia fund amounted to £3,200,000, for which was paid an annu- 
+ity or interest of £160,000; the bank fund being at six per cent., the 
+East-India fund at five per cent, interest. 
+
+In 1715, by thefirst of George I., c. 12, thedifferent taxes which 
+had been mortgaged for paying the bank annuity, together with 
+several others, which, by thisact, werelikewise rendered perpetual, 
+were accumulated into one common fund, called the aggregate 
+
+
+
+755 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+fund, which was charged not only with the payment of the bank 
+annuity, but with several other annuities and burdens of different 
+kinds. Thisfund was afterwards augmented by thethird of George 
+I., c.8., and by thefifth of Georgel ., c. 3, and the different duties 
+which were then added to it were likewise rendered perpetual. 
+
+In 1717, by thethird of Georgel., c. 7, several other taxes were 
+rendered perpetual, and accumulated into another common fund, 
+called the general fund, for the payment of certain annuities, 
+amounting in thewholeto £724,849:6:10y2. 
+
+I n consequence of those different acts, the greater part of the 
+taxes, which before had been anticipated only for a short term of 
+years were rendered perpetual, as a fund for paying, not the capi- 
+tal, but the interest only, of the money which had been borrowed 
+upon them by different successive anticipations. 
+
+H ad money never been raised but by anticipation, thecourseof 
+a few years would have liberated the public revenue, without any 
+other attention of government besides that of not overloading the 
+fund, by charging it with more debt than it could pay within the 
+limited term, and not of anticipating a second time before the 
+expiration of the first anticipation. But the greater part of Euro- 
+pean governments have been incapable of those attentions They 
+have frequently overloaded thefund, even upon thefirst anticipa- 
+tion; and when thishappened not to bethecase, they have gener- 
+
+
+
+ally taken care to overload it, by anticipating a second and athird 
+time, before the expiration of thefirst anticipation. Thefund be- 
+coming in thismanner altogether insufficientfor paying both prin- 
+cipal and interest of the money borrowed upon it, it became nec- 
+essary to charge it with the interest only, or a perpetual annuity 
+equal to the interest; and such improvident anticipations neces- 
+sarily gave birth to the more ruinous practice of perpetual fund- 
+ing. But though this practice necessarily puts off the liberation of 
+thepublic revenue from a fixed period, to oneso indefinitethat it 
+is not very likely ever to arrive; yet, as a greater sum can, in all 
+cases, be raised by this new practice than by the old one of antici- 
+pation, theformer, when men have once become familiar with it, 
+has, in the great exigencies of the state, been universally preferred 
+to the latter. To relieve the present exigency, is always the object 
+which principally interests those immediately concerned in the 
+administration of public affairs. Thefuture liberation of thepub- 
+lic revenue they leave to the care of posterity. 
+
+D uring thereign of queen Anne, the market rateof interest had 
+fallen from six to five per cent.; and, in the twelfth year of her 
+reign, five per cent, wasdeclared to be thehighest rate which could 
+lawfully betaken for money borrowed upon private security. Soon 
+after the greater part of the temporary taxes of G reat Britain had 
+been rendered perpetual, and distributed into the aggregate, South- 
+
+
+
+756 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+sea, and general funds, the creditors of the public, like those of 
+private persons, were induced to accept of five per cent, for the 
+interest of their money, which occasioned a saving of one per cent, 
+upon the capital of the greater part or the debts which had been 
+thus funded for perpetuity, or of one-sixth of the greater part of 
+the annuities which were paid out of the three great funds above 
+mentioned. Thissaving left aconsiderablesurplusin theproduce 
+of thedifferent taxes which had been accumulated intothosefunds, 
+over an d above wh at was n ecessary f or payi n g th e an n u i ti es wh i ch 
+were now charged upon them, and laid the foundation of what 
+has since been called the sinking fund. In 1717, it amounted to 
+£523,454:7:7y 2 . In 1727, the interest of the greater part of the 
+public debts was still further reduced to four per cent.; and, in 
+1753 and 1757, to three and a- half, and three per cent., which 
+reductions still further augmented the sinking fund. 
+
+A sinkingfund, though instituted for thepayment of old, facili- 
+tates very much the contracting of new debts. It is a subsidiary 
+fund, always at hand, to be mortgaged in aid of any other doubt- 
+ful fund, upon which money is proposed to be raised in any exi- 
+gency of the state. W hether the sinking fund of Great Britain has 
+been more frequently applied to the one or to other of those two 
+purposes, will sufficiently appear by and by. 
+
+Besides those two methods of borrowing, by anticipations and 
+
+
+
+by a perpetual funding, there are two other methods, which hold 
+a sort of middle place between them; these are, that of borrowing 
+upon annuities for terms of years, and that of borrowing upon 
+annuities for lives. 
+
+During the reigns of king William and queen Anne, large sums 
+were frequently borrowed upon annuitiesfortermsof years, which 
+were sometimes longer and sometimes shorter. In 1695, an act 
+was passed for borrowing one million upon an annuity of four- 
+teen per cent., or £140,000 a-year, for sixteen years. In 1691, an 
+act was passed for borrowing a million upon annuities for lives, 
+upon terms which, in the present times, would appear very ad- 
+vantageous; but the subscription wasnot filled up. In thefollow- 
+ing year, the deficiency was made good, by borrowing upon annu- 
+ities for lives, at fourteen percent, or a little more than seven years 
+purchase. In 1695, the persons who had purchased those annu- 
+ities were all owed to exchange them for others of ninety- six years, 
+upon paying into the exchequer sixty-three pounds in the hun- 
+dred; that is, the difference between fourteen per cent, for life, 
+and fourteen per cent, for ninety-six years, was sold for sixty-three 
+pounds, or for four and a-half years purchase. Such was the sup- 
+posed instability of government, that even these terms procured 
+few purchasers. In the reign of queen Anne, money was, upon 
+different occasions, borrowed both upon annuities for lives, and 
+
+
+
+757 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+upon annuities for terms of thirty-two, of eighty-nine, of ninety- 
+eight, and of ninety-nine years. In 1719, the proprietors of the 
+annuities for thirty-two years were induced to accept, in lieu of 
+them, South-sea stock to the amount of eleven and a- half years 
+purchase of the annuities, together with an additional quantity of 
+stock, equal to the arrears which happened then to be due upon 
+them. In 1720, the greater part of the other annuities for terms of 
+years, both long and short, were subscribed into the same fund. 
+The long annuities, at that time, amounted to £666,821: 8:3V2a- 
+year. n the 5th of January 1775, the remainder of them, or what 
+was not subscribed at that time, amounted onlytof 136,453:12:8d. 
+During the two wars which began in 1739 and in 1755, little 
+money was borrowed, either upon annuitiesfortermsof years, or 
+upon those for lives. An annuity for ninety-eight or ninety-nine 
+years, however, isworth nearly asmuch as a perpetuity, and should 
+therefore, onemightthink, beafund for borrowing nearly asmuch. 
+But those who, in order to make family settlements, and to pro- 
+vide for remote futurity, buy into the public stocks, would not 
+care to purchase into one of which the value was continually di- 
+minishing; and such people make a very considerable proportion, 
+both of the proprietors and purchasers of stock. An annuity for a 
+long term of years, therefore, though its intrinsic value may be 
+very nearly the same with that of a perpetual annuity, will not find 
+
+
+
+nearly the same number of purchasers. T he subscribers to a new 
+loan, who mean generally to sell their subscription as soon as pos- 
+sible, prefer greatly a perpetual annuity, redeemableby parliament, 
+to an irredeemable annuity, for a long term of years, of only equal 
+amount. The value of the former may be supposed always the 
+same, or very nearly the same; and it makes, therefore, a more 
+convenient transferable stock than the latter. 
+
+D uring the two last-mentioned wars, annuities, either for terms 
+of years or for lives, were seldom granted, but as premiums to the 
+subscribers of a new loan, over and above theredeemableannuity or 
+interest, upon thecredit of which theloan was supposed to be made. 
+They were granted, not as the proper fund upon which the money 
+was borrowed, but as an additional encouragement to the lender. 
+
+Annuitiesfor lives have occasionally been granted in two differ- 
+ent ways; either upon separate lives, or upon lots of lives, which, 
+in French, are called tontines, from the name of their inventor. 
+When annuities are granted upon separate lives, the death of ev- 
+ery individual annuitant disburdens the public revenue, so far as 
+it was affected by his annuity. W hen annuities are granted upon 
+tontines, the liberation ofthepublicrevenuedoesnot commence 
+till thedeath of all theannuitants comprehended in onelot, which 
+may sometimes consist of twenty or thirty persons, of whom the 
+su rvivors succeed to theannuities of all those whodiebefore them; 
+
+
+
+758 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+thelast survivor succeeding to theannuitiesof the wholelot. Upon 
+the same revenue, more money can always be raised by tontines 
+than by annuities for separate lives An annuity, with a right of 
+survivorship, is really worth more than an equal annuity for a 
+separate life; and, from theconfidence which every man naturally 
+hasin hisown good fortune, theprincipleupon which isfounded 
+the success of all lotteries, such an annuity generally sellsfor some- 
+thing more than it is worth. In countries where it is usual for 
+government to raise money by granting annuities, tontines are, 
+upon this account, generally preferred to annuities for separate 
+lives. Theexpedient which will raisemost money, is almost always 
+preferred to that which is likely to bring about, in the speediest 
+manner, the liberation of the public revenue. 
+
+I n France, a much greater proportion of the public debts con- 
+sistsin annuities for livesthan in England. According to a memoir 
+presented by the parliament of Bourdeaux to the king, in 1764, 
+the whole public debt of France is estimated at twenty-four hun- 
+dred millions of livres; of which the capital, for which annuities 
+for lives had been granted, is supposed to amount to three hun- 
+dred millions, theeighth partofthewholepublicdebt.Theannu- 
+ities them selves arecomputed to amount to thirty millions a-year, 
+thefourth part of onehundred and twenty millions, thesupposed 
+interest of that whole debt. These estimations, I know very well, 
+
+
+
+are not exact; but having been presented by so very respectable a 
+body as approximations to the truth, they may, I apprehend, be 
+considered as such. It is not thedifferent degrees of anxiety in the 
+two governments of France and England for the liberation of the 
+public revenue, which occasions this difference in their respective 
+modes of borrowing; it arises altogether from the different views 
+and interests of the lenders. 
+
+In England, the seat of government being in the greatest mer- 
+cantile city in the world, the merchants are generally the people 
+who advance money to government. By advancing it, they do not 
+mean to diminish, but, on the contrary, to increase their mercan- 
+tile capitals; and unless they expected to sell, with some profit, 
+their share in the subscription for a new loan, they never would 
+subscribe. But if, by advancing their money, they were to pur- 
+chase, instead of perpetual annuities, annuities for lives only, 
+whether their own or those of other people, they would not al- 
+ways be so likely to sell them with a profit. Annuities upon their 
+own lives they would always sell with loss; because no man will 
+give for an annuity upon the life of another, whose age and state 
+of health are nearly the same with his own, the same price which 
+hewould give for one upon hisown. An annuity upon the life of 
+a third person, indeed, is, no doubt, of equal value to the buyer 
+and the seller; but its real value begins to diminish from themo- 
+
+
+
+759 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+merit it isgranted, and continues to do so, more and more, aslong 
+as it subsists. It can never, therefore, make so convenient a trans- 
+ferable stock as a perpetual annuity, of which the real value may 
+be supposed always the same, or very nearly the same. 
+
+In France, the seat of government not being in a great mercan- 
+tilecity, merchantsdo not makeso great a proportion of thepeople 
+who advance money to government. T he people concerned in the 
+finances, the farmers- general, the receivers of the taxes which are 
+notin farm, the court-bankers, etc. makethe greater part of those 
+who advance their money in all public exigencies. Such peopleare 
+commonly men of mean birth, but of great wealth, and frequently 
+of great pride. They are too proud to marry their equals, and women 
+of quality disdain to marry them. T hey frequently resolve, there 
+fore, to live bachelors; and having neither any families of their 
+own, nor much regard for those of their relations, whom they are 
+not always very fond of acknowledging, they desire only to livein 
+splendour during their own time, and are not unwilling that their 
+fortune should end with themselves. T he number of rich people, 
+besides, who are either averse to marry, or whose condition of life 
+renders it either improper or inconvenient for them to do so, is 
+much greater in France than in England. To such people, who 
+have little or no care for posterity, nothing can be more conve- 
+nient than to exchange their capital for a revenue, which isto last 
+
+
+
+just as long, and no longer, than they wish it to do. 
+
+The ordinary expense of the greater part of modern govern- 
+ments, in timeof peace, being equal, or nearly equal, to their ordi- 
+nary revenue, when war comes, they are both unwilling and un- 
+ableto increase their revenuein proportion to theincrease of their 
+expense. T hey areunwilling, for fear of offending thepeople, who, 
+by so great and so sudden an increase of taxes, would soon be 
+disgusted with the war; and they are unable, from not well know- 
+ing what taxes would be sufficient to producetherevenue wanted. 
+Thefacility of borrowing delivers them from the embarrassment 
+which thisfear and inability would otherwise occasion. By means 
+of borrowing, they are enabled, with a very moderate increase of 
+taxes, to raise, from year to year, money sufficient for carrying on 
+the war; and by the practice of perpetual funding, they are en- 
+abled, with the smallest possible increase of taxes, to raise annu- 
+ally thelargestpossiblesum of money. In great empires, thepeople 
+who livein thecapital, and in the provinces remote from thescene 
+of action, feel, many of them, scarce any inconveniency from the 
+war, but enjoy, at their ease, theamusement of reading in thenews- 
+papers the exploits of their own fleets and armies. To them this 
+amusement compensates the small difference between the taxes 
+which they pay on account of the war, and those which they had 
+been accustomed to pay in time of peace. They are commonly 
+
+
+
+760 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+dissatisfied with the return of peace, which puts an end to their 
+amusement, and to a thousand visionary hopes of conquest and 
+national glory, from a longer continuance of the war. 
+
+The return of peace, indeed, seldom relieves them from the 
+greater part of the taxes imposed during the war. These are mort- 
+gaged for the interest of the debt contracted, in order to carry it 
+on. If, over and above paying the interest of thisdebt, and defray- 
+ingtheordinaryexpenseof government, theold revenue, together 
+with the new taxes, produce some surplus revenue, it may, per- 
+haps, be converted into a sinking fund for paying off the debt. 
+But, in thefirst place, thissinking fund, even supposing it should 
+be applied to no other purpose, is generally altogether inadequate 
+for paying, in thecourseof any period during which it can reason- 
+ably be expected that peace should continue, the wholedebt con- 
+tracted during the war; and, in the second place, this fund is al- 
+most always applied to other purposes. 
+
+T he new taxes were imposed for the sole purpose of paying the 
+interest of the money borrowed upon them. If they produce more, 
+it isgenerally something which was neither intended nor expected, 
+and is, therefore, seldom very considerable. Sinking funds have 
+generally arisen, not so much from any surplus of the taxes which 
+was over and above what was necessary for paying the interest or 
+annuity originally charged upon them, as from a subsequent re- 
+
+
+
+duction of that interest; that of Holland in 1655, and that of the 
+ecclesiastical state i n 1685, wereboth formed in thismanner. H ence 
+the usual insufficiency of such funds. 
+
+During the most profound peace, various events occur, which 
+require an extraordinary expense; and government finds it always 
+more convenient to defray this expense by misapplying the sink- 
+ing fund, than by imposing a new tax. Every new tax is immedi- 
+ately felt more or less by the people. It occasions always some 
+murmur, and meets with some opposition. The more taxes may 
+have been multiplied, the higher they may have been raised upon 
+every different subject of taxation; the more loudly the people 
+complain of every new tax, the more difficult it becomes, too, 
+either to find out new subjects of taxation, ortoraisemuch higher 
+the taxes already imposed upon theold. A momentary suspension 
+of the payment of debt is not immediately felt by the people, and 
+occasions neither murmur nor complaint. To borrow of thesink- 
+ingfund isalwaysan obviousandeasyexpedientforgettingoutof 
+the present difficulty. The more the public debts may have been 
+accumulated, the more necessary it may have become to study to 
+reduce them; the more dangerous, the more ruinous it may be to 
+misapply any part of the sinking fund; the less likely isthe public 
+debt to be reduced to any considerabledegree, the more likely, the 
+more certainly, is the sinking fund to be misapplied towards de- 
+
+
+
+761 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+frayingall theextraordinaryexpenseswhich occurin timeof peace. 
+When a nation is already overburdened with taxes, nothing but 
+the necessities of a new war, nothing but either the animosity of 
+national vengeance, or the anxiety for national security, can in- 
+duce the people to submit, with tolerable patience, to a new tax. 
+Hence the usual misapplication of the sinking fund. 
+
+In Great Britain, from thetimethat we had first recourse to the 
+ruinousexpedientof perpetual funding, thereduction of thepub- 
+lic debt, in time of peace, has never borne any proportion to its 
+accumulation in time of war. It was in the war which began in 
+1668, and was concluded by the treaty of Ryswick, in 1697, that 
+thefoundation of the present enormous debt of Great Britain was 
+first laid. 
+
+n the 31st of D ecember 1697, the public debts of G reat Brit- 
+ain, funded and unfunded, amounted to f 21,515,742:13:8V2. A 
+great part of those debts had been contracted upon short anticipa- 
+tions, and some part upon annuities for lives; so that, before the 
+31st of December 1701, in less than four years, there had partly 
+been paid off; and partly reverted to the public, the sum of 
+£5,121,041:12:0 3 /4d; a greater reduction of the public debt than 
+has ever since been brought about in so short a period of time. 
+The remaining debt, therefore, amounted only to 
+£16,394,701:l:7y4d. 
+
+
+
+I n the war which began in 1702, and which was concluded by 
+the treaty of Utrecht, the public debts were still more accumu- 
+lated. On the 31st of December 1714, they amounted to 
+£53,681, 076:5:6y2. The subscription into the South-sea fund, of 
+the short and long annuities, increased the capital of the public 
+debt; so that, on the 31st of December 1722, it amounted to 
+£55,282,978:1:3 5/6. Thereduction of the debt began in 1723, 
+and went on so slowly, that, on the 31st of D ecember 1739, dur- 
+ing seventeen years-of profound peace, the whole sum paid off 
+wasno more than £8,328,554:17:11 3/12, thecapital of thepub- 
+lic debt, at that time, amounting to £46,954,623:3:4 7/12. 
+
+TheSpanish war, which began in 1739, and the French war which 
+soon followed it, occasioned a further increase of the debt, which, 
+on the 31st of D ecember 1748, after the war had been concluded 
+bythetreatyofAix-la-Chapdle, amounted to £78,293,313:l:10 3 /4. 
+The most profound peace, of 17 years continuance, had taken no 
+more than £8,328,354, 17:liy4 from it. A war, of less than nine 
+years continuance, added £31,338,689:18: 6 1/6 to it. -(Beejames 
+Postlethwaite'sH istory of the Public Revenue.} 
+
+D uring the administration of M r. Pelham, the interest of the 
+public debt was reduced, or at least measures were taken for re- 
+ducing it, from four to three per cent.; the sinking fund was in- 
+creased, and some part of the public debt was paid off. I n 1755, 
+
+
+
+762 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+before the breaking out of the late war, the funded debt of G reat 
+Britain amounted to £72,289,675. On the 5th of January 1763, 
+at the conclusion of the peace, thefunded debt amounted debt to 
+£122,603,336:8:2 1 /4. The unfunded debt has been stated at 
+£13,927,589:2:2. But the expense occasioned by the war did not 
+end with the conclusion of the peace; so that, though on the 5th 
+of January 1764, thefunded debt was increased (partly by a new 
+loan, and partly by funding a part of the unfunded debt) to 
+£129,586,789:10:l 3 /4, there still remained (according to the very 
+well informed author of C onsiderationson theTradeand Finances 
+of Great Britain) an unfunded debt, which was brought to ac- 
+count in that and thefollowing year, of £9,975,017: 12:2 15/44d. 
+In 1764, therefore, the public debt of Great Britain, funded and 
+unfunded together, amounted, according to this author, to 
+£139,561,807:2:4. The annuities for lives, too, which had been 
+granted aspremiumstothesubscriberstothenewloansin 1757, 
+estimated at fourteen years purchase, were valued at £472,500; 
+and the annuities for long terms of years, granted as premiums 
+likewise, in 1761 and 1762, estimated at twenty-seven and a-half 
+years purchase, were valued at£6,826,875. During a peaceof about 
+seven years continuance, theprudent and truly patriotic adminis- 
+tration of M r. Pelham was not able to pay off an old debt of six 
+millions. During a war of nearly the same continuance, a new 
+
+
+
+debt of more than seventy-five millions was contracted. 
+
+n the 5th of J anuary 1775, the funded debt of G reat Britain 
+amounted to £124,996,086, l:6 l A6. The unfunded, exclusive of 
+a large civil-list debt, to £4,150,236:3:11 7/8. Both together, to 
+£129,146,322:5:6. According to thisaccount, thewholedebt paid 
+off, during eleven years of profound peace, amounted only to 
+£10,415,476:16:9 7/8. Even this small reduction of debt, how- 
+ever, has not been all made from the savings out of the ordinary 
+revenue of the state. Several extraneous sums, altogether indepen- 
+dent of that ordinary revenue, have contributed towards it. 
+Amongst thesewe may reckon an additional shilling in thepound 
+land tax, for three years; thetwo millions received from theEast- 
+Indiacompany, asindemnifi cation for their territorial acquisitions; 
+and the one hundred and ten thousand pounds received from the 
+bank for the renewal of their charter. To these must be added sev- 
+eral other sums, which, as they arose out of the late war, ought 
+perhaps to be considered as deductions from the expenses of it. 
+The principal are, 
+
+The produce of French prizes £690,449: 18: 9 Com- 
+position for French prisoners 670,000: 0:0 
+
+
+
+763 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+What has been received from the sale of the ceded islands 
+95,500: 0:0 
+
+Total £1,455,949: 18: 9 
+
+If we add to this sum the balance of the earl of Chatham's and 
+M r. Calcraft's accounts, and other army savings of the same kind, 
+together with what has been received from the bank, the East- 
+India company, and the additional shilling in thepound land tax, 
+thewholemustbeagood deal more than fivemillions. Thedebt, 
+therefore, which, si nee the peace, has been paid out of the savings 
+from the ordinary revenue of the state, has not, one year with 
+another, amounted to half a million a-year.Thesinkingfund has, 
+no doubt, been considerably augmented since the peace, by the 
+debt which had been paid off, by the reduction of the redeemable 
+four per cents to three per cents, and by the annuities for lives 
+which have fallen in; and, if peace were to continue, a million, 
+perhaps, might now be annually spared out of it towards the dis- 
+charge of thedebt. Another million, accordingly, was paid in the 
+courseof last year; but at thesametime, a large civil-list debt was 
+left unpaid, and we are now involved in a new war, which, in its 
+progress, may prove as expensive as any of our former wars. {It has 
+proved more expensive than any one of our former wars, and has 
+
+
+
+involved us in an additional debt of more than onehundred mil- 
+lions. During a profound peace of eleven years, little more than 
+ten millions of debt was paid; during a war of seven years, more 
+than onehundred millionswas contracted. }Thenew debt which 
+will probably be contracted before theend of the next campaign, 
+may, perhaps, be nearly equal to all the old debt which has been 
+paid off from the savings out of theordinary revenueof thestate. 
+It would be altogether chimerical, therefore, to expect that the 
+public debt should ever be completely discharged, by any savings 
+which arelikely to be madefrom that ordinary revenueasit stands 
+at present. 
+
+The public funds of the different indebted nations of Europe, 
+particularly those of England, have, by one author, been repre- 
+sented as the accumulation of a great capital, superadded to the 
+other capital of the country, by means of which its trade is ex- 
+tended, its manufactures are multiplied, and its lands cultivated 
+and improved, much beyond what they could have been by means 
+of that other capital only. H e does not consider that the capital 
+which the first creditors of the public advanced to government, 
+was, from the moment in which headvanced it, a certain portion 
+of the annual produce, turned away from serving in thefunction 
+of a capital, to serve in that of a revenue; from maintaining pro- 
+ductive labourers, to maintain unproductiveones, and to bespent 
+
+
+
+764 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+and wasted, generally in the course of the year, without even the 
+hope of any future reproduction. In return for the capital which 
+they advanced, they obtained, indeed, an annuity of the public 
+funds, in most cases, of more than equal value. This annuity, no 
+doubt, replaced to them their capital, and enabled them to carry 
+on their trade and business to the same, or, perhaps, to a greater 
+extent than before; that is, they were enabled, either to borrow of 
+other people a new capital, upon the credit of this annuity or, by 
+selling it, to get from other people a new capital of their own, 
+equal, or superior, to that which they had advanced to govern- 
+ment. This new capital, however, which they in this manner ei- 
+ther bought or borrowed of other people, must have existed in the 
+country before, and must have been employed, as all capitals are, 
+in maintaining productive labour. W hen it came into the hands 
+of those who had advanced their money to government, though it 
+was, in some respects, a new capital to them, it was not so to the 
+country, but was only a capital withdrawn from certain employ- 
+ments, in order to be turned towards others. Though it replaced 
+to them what they had advanced to government, it did not replace 
+it to the country. H ad they not advanced this capital to govern- 
+ment, there would have been in the country two capitals, two 
+portionsof theannual produce, instead of one, employed in main- 
+taining productive labour. 
+
+
+
+When, for defraying theexpenseof government, a revenue is raised 
+within the year, from the produce of free or unmortgaged taxes, a 
+certain portion of therevenueof private peopleisonly turned away 
+from maintaining onespeciesof unproductivelabour, towards main- 
+taining another. Some part of what they pay in those taxes, might, 
+no doubt, have been accumulated into capital, and consequently 
+employed in maintaining productive labour; but the greater part 
+would probably have been spent, and consequently employed in 
+maintaining unproductive labour. The public expense, however, 
+when defrayed in this manner, no doubt hinders, more or less, the 
+further accumulation of new capital; but it does not necessarily oc- 
+casion the destruction of any actually-existing capital. 
+
+When the public expense is defrayed by funding, it is defrayed 
+by the annual destruction of some capital which had before ex- 
+isted in the country; by the perversion of some portion of the 
+annual produce which had before been destined for the mainte- 
+nance of productive labour, towardsthat of unproductive labour. 
+Asin thiscase, however, thetaxes are lighter than they would have 
+been, had a revenuesufficient for defraying thesameexpense been 
+raised within theyear; the private revenueof individualsisneces- 
+sarily less burdened, and consequently their ability to save and 
+accumulate some part of that revenue into capital, is a good deal 
+lessimpaired. Ifthemethod of funding destroys more old capital, 
+
+
+
+765 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+it, at the same time, hinders less the accumulation or acquisition 
+of new capital, than that of defraying the public expense by a 
+revenue raised within the year. Under the system of funding, the 
+frugality and industry of private people can more easily repair the 
+breaches which the waste and extravagance of government may 
+occasionally make in the general capital of the society. 
+
+It is only during the continuance of war, however, that the sys- 
+tem of funding has thisadvantage over theother system. Were the 
+expense of war to be defrayed always by a revenue raised within 
+theyear, thetaxesfrom which that extraordinary revenue wasdrawn 
+would last no longer than the war. The ability of private people to 
+accumulate, though less during the war, would have been greater 
+during the peace, than under the system of funding. War would 
+not necessarily have occasioned the destruction of any old capi- 
+tals, and peace would have occasioned the accumulation of many 
+more new. Wars would, in general, be more speedily concluded, 
+and less wantonly undertaken. The people feeling, during con- 
+tinuance of war, the complete burden of it, would soon grow weary 
+of it; and government, in order to humour them, would not be 
+under the necessity of carrying it on longer than it was necessary 
+to do so. T he foresight of the heavy and unavoidable burdens of 
+war would hinder the people from wantonly calling for it when 
+there was no real or solid interest to fight for. T he seasons during 
+
+
+
+which the ability of private people to accumulate was somewhat 
+impaired, would occur more rarely, and be of shorter continu- 
+ance. Those, on the contrary, during which that ability was in the 
+highest vigour would be of much longer duration than they can 
+well be under the system of funding. 
+
+When funding, besides, has made a certain progress, the multi- 
+plication of taxes which it brings along with it, sometimes impairs 
+asmuch the ability of private peopleto accumulate, even in time 
+of peace, as the other system would in time of war. The peace 
+revenue of Great Britain amounts at present to more than ten 
+millions a-year. If free and unmortgaged, it might be sufficient, 
+with proper management, and without contracting a shilling of 
+new debt, to carry on the most vigorous war. T he private revenue 
+of the inhabitants of Great Britain is at present asmuch incum- 
+bered in time of peace, their ability to accumulate is as much im- 
+paired, as it would have been in the time of the most expensive 
+war, had the pernicious system of funding never been adopted. 
+
+I n the payment of the interest of the public debt, it has been 
+said, itistherighthand which pays the left. The money does not 
+go out of the country. It is only a part of the revenue of one set of 
+the inhabitants which istransferred to another; and the nation is 
+not a farthing the poorer. This apology is founded altogether in 
+the sophistry of the mercantile system; and, after the long exami- 
+
+
+
+766 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+nation which I have already bestowed upon that system, it may, 
+perhaps, be unnecessary to say anything further about it. It sup- 
+poses, besides, that the whole public debt is owing to the inhabit- 
+ants of the country, which happens not to be true; the Dutch, as 
+well as several other foreign nations, having a very considerable 
+sharein our public funds. But though the whole debt were owing 
+to the inhabitants of the country, it would not, upon that ac- 
+count, be less pernicious. 
+
+Land and capital stock are the two original sources of all rev- 
+enue, both private and public. Capital stock pays the wages of 
+productive labour, whether employed in agriculture, manufactures, 
+or commerce. T he management of those two original sources of 
+revenue belongs to two different sets of people; the proprietorsof 
+land, and the owners or employers of capital stock. 
+
+The proprietor of land is interested, for the sake of his own 
+revenue, to keep his estate in as good condition as he can, by 
+building and repairing his tenants houses, by making and main- 
+taining the necessary drains and inclosures, and all those other 
+expensive improvements which it properly belongs to the land- 
+lord to make and maintain. But, by different land taxes, the rev- 
+enue of the landlord may be so much diminished, and, by differ- 
+ent duties upon the necessaries and conveniences of life, that di- 
+minished revenue may be rendered of so little real value, that he 
+
+
+
+may find himself altogether unable to make or maintain those 
+expensive improvements. When the landlord, however, ceases to 
+dohispart, it isaltogetherimpossiblethatthetenant should con- 
+tinue to do his. As the distress of the landlord increases, the agri- 
+culture of the country must necessarily decline. 
+
+W hen, by differenttaxesupon the necessaries and conveniences 
+of life, theownersand employers of capital stock find, that what- 
+ever revenue they derive from it, will not, in a particular country, 
+purchase thesamequantity of those necessaries and conveniences 
+which an equal revenue would in almost any other, they will be 
+disposed to remove to some other. And when, in order to raise 
+those taxes, all or the greater part of merchants and manufactur- 
+ers, that is, all or thegreater part of theemployers of great capitals, 
+come to be continually exposed to the mortifying and vexatious 
+visits of the tax-gatherers, this disposition to remove will soon be 
+changed into an actual removing. The industry of the country 
+will necessarily fall with the removal of the capital which sup- 
+ported it, and the ruin of trade and manufactures will follow the 
+declension of agriculture. 
+
+To transfer from the owners of those two great sources of rev- 
+enue, land, and capital stock, from the persons immediately inter- 
+ested in the good condition of every particular portion of land, 
+and in the good management of every particular portion of capi- 
+
+
+
+767 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+tal stock, to another set of persons (the creditors of the public, 
+who have no such particular interest ), the greater part of the rev- 
+enuearisingfrom either, must, in thelong-run, occasion both the 
+neglect of land, and the waste or removal of capital stock. A credi- 
+tor of the public has, no doubt, a general interest in theprosperity 
+of the agriculture, manufactures, and commerce of the country; 
+and consequently in the good condition of its land, and in the 
+good management of its capital stock. Should there be any gen- 
+eral failureor declension in any of these things, theproduce of the 
+different taxes might no longer be sufficient to pay him theannu- 
+ity or interest which is due to him. But a creditor of the public, 
+considered merely as such, has no interest in the good condition 
+of any particular portion of land, or in the good management of 
+any particular portion of capital stock. Asa creditor of thepublic, 
+he has no knowledge of any such particular portion. H e has no 
+inspection of it. H e can have no care about it. Its ruin may in 
+some cases be unknown to him, and cannot directly affect him. 
+Thepracticeof funding has gradually enfeebled every state which 
+has adopted it. The Italian republicsseem to have begun it. Genoa 
+and Venice, the only two remaining which can pretend to an in- 
+dependent existence, have both been enfeebled by it. Spain seems 
+to have learned the practice from the Italian republics, and (its 
+taxes being probably less judicious than theirs) it has, in propor- 
+
+
+
+tion to its natural strength, been-still more enfeebled. The debts 
+of Spain areof very old standing. It was deeply in debt before the 
+end of the sixteenth century, about a hundred years before En- 
+gland owed a shilling. France, notwithstanding all its natural re- 
+sources, languishes under an oppressive load of the same kind. 
+The republic of the United Provinces is as much enfeebled by its 
+debts as either Genoa or Venice. Is it likely that, in Great Britain 
+alone, a practice, which has brought either weakness or dissolu- 
+tion into every other country, should prove altogether innocent? 
+The system of taxation established in those different countries, 
+it may be said, isinferior to that of England. I believe it is so. But 
+it ought to be remembered, that when the wisest government has 
+exhausted all the proper subjects of taxation, it must, in cases of 
+urgent necessity, have recourse to improper ones. T he wise repub- 
+lic of Holland has, upon some occasions, been obliged to have 
+recourse to taxes as inconvenient as the greater part of those of 
+Spain. Another war, begun before any considerable liberation of 
+the public revenue had been brought about, and growing in its 
+progress as expensive as the last war, may, from irresistible neces- 
+sity, render the British system of taxation as oppressive as that of 
+H olland, or even as that of Spain. To the honour of our present 
+system of taxation, indeed, it has hitherto given so little embar- 
+rassment to industry, that, during the course even of the most 
+
+
+
+768 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+expen si vewars, thefrugality and good conduct of individualsseem 
+to have been able, by saving and accumulation, to repair all the 
+breaches which the waste and extravagance of government had 
+madein thegeneral capital ofthesociety. At the conclusion of the 
+late war, the most expensive that Great Britain ever waged, her 
+agriculturewas as flourishing, her manufacturers asnumerousand 
+as fully employed, and her commerce as extensive, as they had 
+ever been before. The capital, therefore, which supported all those 
+different branches of industry, must have been equal to what it 
+had ever been before. Since the peace, agriculture has been still 
+further improved; therents of houses have risen in every town and 
+village of the country, a proof of the increasing wealth and rev- 
+enue of the people; and the annual amount of the greater part of 
+theold taxes, of the principal branches of the excise and customs, 
+in particular, hasbeen continually increasing, an equally clear proof 
+of an increasing consumption, and consequently of an increasing 
+produce, which could alone support that consumption. Great 
+Britain seemsto support with ease, a burden which, half a century 
+ago, nobody believed her capable of supporting, Letusnot, how- 
+ever, upon this account, rashly conclude that she is capable of 
+supporting any burden; nor even be too confident that she could 
+support, without great distress, a burden a little greater than what 
+has already been laid upon her. 
+
+
+
+When national debts have once been accumulated to a certain 
+degree, there is scarce, I believe, a single instance of their having 
+been fairly and completely paid. The liberation of the public rev- 
+enue, if it has ever been brought about at all, has always been 
+brought about by a bankruptcy; sometimes by an avowed one, 
+though frequently by a pretended payment. 
+
+The raising of the denomination of the coin hasbeen the most 
+usual expedient by which a real public bankruptcy has been dis- 
+guised under the appearance of a pretended payment. If a six- 
+pence, for example, should, either by act of parliament or royal 
+proclamation, be raised to the denomination of a shilling, and 
+twenty sixpences to that of a pound sterling; the person who, un- 
+der theold denomination, had borrowed twenty shillings, or near 
+four ounces of silver, would, under the new, pay with twenty six- 
+pences, or with something less than two ounces. A national debt 
+of about a hundred and twenty-eight millions, near the capital of 
+the funded and unfunded debt of Great Britain, might, in this 
+manner, be paid with about sixty-four millions of our present 
+money. It would, indeed, be a pretended payment only, and the 
+creditors of the public would really be defrauded of ten shillings 
+in thepound of what was due to them. The calamity, too, would 
+extend much further than to the creditors of thepublic, and those 
+of every private person would suffer a proportionable loss; and 
+
+
+
+769 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+this without any advantage, but in most cases with a great addi- 
+tional loss, to the creditors of the public. If the creditors of the 
+public, indeed, were generally much in debt to other people, they 
+might in somemeasurecompen sate their lossby paying their credi- 
+tors in the same coin in which the public had paid them. But in 
+most countries, the creditors of the public are, the greater part of 
+them, wealthy people, who stand more in the relation of creditors 
+than in that of debtors, towards the rest of their fellow citizens. A 
+pretended payment of this kind, therefore, instead of alleviating, 
+aggravates, in most cases, the loss of the creditors of the public; 
+and, without any advantage to the public, extendsthe calamity to 
+a great number of other innocent people. It occasions a general 
+and most pernicious subversion of thefortunes of private people; 
+enriching, in most cases, the idle and profuse debtor, at the ex- 
+pense of the industrious and frugal creditor; and transporting a 
+great part of the national capital from the hands which were I ikely 
+to increase and improveit, to thosewhoarelikely to dissipate and 
+destroy it. W hen it becomes necessary for a state to declare itself 
+bankrupt, in the same manner as when it becomes necessary for 
+an individual to do so, a fair, open, and avowed bankruptcy, is 
+always themeasure which isboth least dishonourabletothedebtor, 
+and least hurtful to the creditor. The honour of a state is surely 
+very poorly provided for, when, in order to cover the disgrace of a 
+
+
+
+real bankruptcy, it hasrecourseto a juggling trick of this kind, so 
+
+easily seen through, and at thesametimeso extremely pernicious. 
+Almost all states, however, ancient as well as modern, when re- 
+duced to this necessity, have, upon some occasions, played this 
+very juggling trick. T he Romans, at theend of thefirst Punic war, 
+reduced the As, the coin or denomination by which they com- 
+puted the value of all their other coins, from containing twelve 
+ounces of copper, to contain only two ounces; that is, they raised 
+two ouncesof copper to a denomination which had always before 
+expressed the value of twelve ounces. The republic was, in this 
+manner, enabled to pay the great debts which it had contracted 
+with the sixth part of what it really owed. So sudden and so great 
+a bankruptcy, we should in the present times be apt to imagine, 
+must have occasioned a very violent popular clamour. It does not 
+appear to have occasioned any. The law which enacted it was, like 
+all other laws relating to thecoin, introduced and carried through 
+the assembly of the people by a tribune, and was probably a very 
+popular law. In Rome, as in all other ancient republics, the poor 
+people were constantly in debt to the rich and the great, who, in 
+order to secure their votes at the annual elections, used to lend 
+them money at exorbitant interest, which, being never paid, soon 
+accumulated into a sum too great either for the debtor to pay, or 
+for any body else to pay for him. T he debtor, for fear of a very 
+
+
+
+770 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+severe execution, wasobliged, without any further gratuity, to vote 
+for thecandidatewhomthecreditor recommended. In spite of all 
+the laws against bribery and corruption, the bounty of thecandi- 
+dates, together with the occasional distributions of coin which 
+were ordered by the senate, were the principal fundsfrom which, 
+during the latter timesof the Roman republic, the poorer citizens 
+derived their subsistence. To deliver themselves from this subjec- 
+tion to their creditors, the poorer citizens were continually calling 
+out, either for an entire abolition of debts, or for what they called 
+new tables; that is, for a law which should entitle them to a com- 
+plete acquittance, upon paying only a certain proportion of their 
+accumulated debts. The law which reduced the coin of all de- 
+nominationstoasixth partof its former value, as it enabled them 
+to pay their debts with a sixth part of what they really owed, was 
+equivalent to the most advantageous new tables. I n order to sat- 
+isfy the people, the rich and the great were, upon several different 
+occasions, obliged to consent to laws, both for abolishing debts, 
+and for introducing new tables; and they probably were induced 
+to consent to this law, partly for the same reason, and partly that, 
+by liberating the public revenue, they might restore vigour to that 
+government, of which they themselves had the principal direc- 
+tion. An operation of this kind would at once reduce a debt of 
+£128,000,000 to £21,333,333:6:8. In the course of the second 
+
+
+
+Punic war, theAs was still further reduced, first, from two ounces 
+of copper to one ounce, and afterwards from oneounceto half an 
+ounce; that is, to the twenty-fourth part of its original value. By 
+combiningthethreeRomanoperationsintoone, adebtof ahun- 
+dred and twenty-eight millions of our present money, might in 
+this manner be reduced all at once to a debt of £5,333,333:6:8. 
+Even the enormous debt of Great Britain might in this manner 
+soon be paid. 
+
+By means of such expedients, the coin of, I believe, all nations, 
+has been gradually reduced more and more below its original value, 
+andthesamenominalsum has been gradually brought to contain 
+a smaller and a smaller quantity of silver. 
+
+Nations have sometimes, for the same purpose, adulterated the 
+standard of their coin; that is, have mixed a greater quantity of 
+alloy in it. If in the pound weight of our silver coin, for example, 
+instead of eighteen penny-weight, according to the present stan- 
+dard, there were mixed eight ounces of alloy; a pound sterling, or 
+twenty shillings of such coin, would be worth little more than six 
+shillings and eightpenceof our present money. The quantity of 
+silver contained in six shillings and eightpence of our present 
+money, would thus be raised very nearly to thedenomination of a 
+pound sterling. The adulteration of the standard has exactly the 
+same effect with what the French call an augmentation, or a direct 
+
+
+
+771 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+raising of the denomination of the coin. 
+
+An augmentation, or a direct raising of the denomination of the 
+coin, always is, and from its nature must be, an open and avowed 
+operation. Bymeansof it, pieces of a smaller weight and bulk are 
+called by the same name, which had before been given to piecesof 
+a greater weight and bulk. The adulteration of the standard, on 
+the contrary, has generally been a concealed operation. By means 
+of it, pieces are issued from the mint, of the same denomination, 
+and, asnearly as could be contrived, of the same weight, bulk, and 
+appearance, with pieces which had been current before of much 
+greater value. When king John of France, {See Du Cange Glos- 
+sary, voceMoneta; the Benedictine Edition.} in order to pay his 
+debts, adulterated hiscoin, all theofficersof hismint were sworn 
+to secrecy. Both operations are unjust. Butasimpleaugmentation 
+is an injustice of open violence; whereas an adulteration is an in- 
+justice of treacherous fraud. This latter operation, therefore, as 
+soon as it has been discovered, and it could never be concealed 
+very long, has always excited much greater indignation than the 
+former. The coin, after any considerable augmentation, has very 
+seldom been brought back to its former weight; but after the great- 
+est adulterations, it has almost always been brought back to its 
+former fineness It has scarce ever happened, that the fury and 
+indignation of the people could otherwise be appeased. 
+
+
+
+In the end of the reign of Henry VI 1 1., and in the beginning of 
+that of Edward VI., the English coin was not only raised in its 
+denomination, but adulterated in its standard. Thelikefraudswere 
+practised in Scotland during the minority of J ames V I . T hey have 
+occasionally been practised in most other countries. 
+
+That the public revenue of Great Britain can never be com- 
+pletely liberated, or even that any considerable progress can ever 
+be made towards that liberation, while the surplus of that rev- 
+enue, or what is over and above defraying the annual expense of 
+the peace establishment, is so very small, it seems altogether in 
+vain to expect. That liberation, itisevident, can never be brought 
+about, without either someveryconsiderableaugmentation of the 
+public revenue, or some equally considerable reduction of the 
+public expense. 
+
+A more equal land tax, a moreequal tax upon therent of houses, 
+and such alterationsin the present system of customsand excise as 
+those which have been mentioned in the foregoing chapter, might, 
+perhaps, without increasing the burden of the greater part of the 
+people, but only distributing the weight of it more equally upon 
+the whole, produce a considerable augmentation of revenue. The 
+most sanguine projector, however, could scarce flatter himself, that 
+any augmentation of this kind would be such as could give any 
+reasonable hopes, either of liberating thepublic revenue altogether, 
+
+
+
+772 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+or even of making such progress towardsthat liberation intimeof 
+peace, as either to prevent or to compensate thefurther accumula- 
+tion of the public debt in the next war. 
+
+By extending the British system of taxation to all the different 
+provinces of the empire, inhabited by people either of British or 
+European extraction, a much greater augmentation of revenue 
+might be expected. This, however, could scarce, perhaps, bedone, 
+consistently with the principles of the British constitution, with- 
+out admitting into the British parliament, or, if you will, into the 
+states- general of the British empire, a fair and equal representa- 
+tion of all those different provinces; that of each province bearing 
+the same proportion to the produce of its taxes, as the representa- 
+tion of G reat Britain might bear to the produce of the taxes levied 
+upon Great Britain. The private interest of many powerful indi- 
+viduals, theconfirmed prejudicesof great bodies of people, seem, 
+indeed, at present, to oppose to so great a change, such obstacles 
+as it may be very difficult, perhaps altogether impossible, to sur- 
+mount. W ithout, however, pretending to determine whether such 
+a union be practicable or impracticable, it may not, perhaps, be 
+improper, in a speculative work of this kind, to consider how far 
+theBritish system of taxation might be applicableto all thediffer- 
+ent provinces of theempire; what revenuemight be expected from 
+it, if so applied; and in what manner a general union of this kind 
+
+
+
+might be likely to affect the happiness and prosperity of the 
+differrent provinces comprehended within it. Such a speculation, 
+can, at worst, be regarded but as a new Utopia, less amusing, cer- 
+tainly, but no more useless and chimerical than the old one. 
+
+T he land-tax, the stamp duties, and the different duties of cus- 
+tomsand excise, constitute thefour principal branches of theBritish 
+taxes. 
+
+Ireland is certainly as able, and our American and West India 
+plantations more able, to pay aland tax, than Great Britain. W here 
+the landlord is subject neither to tythe nor poor's rate, he must cer- 
+tainly be more able to pay such a tax, than where he is subject to 
+both those other burdens. Thetythe, where there isno modus, and 
+whereitislevied in kind, diminishesmore what would otherwise be 
+the rent of the landlord, than a land tax which really amounted to 
+five shillings in the pound. Such a tythe will be found, in most 
+cases, to amount to more than a fourth part of the real rent of the 
+land, or of what remains after replacing completely the capital of 
+the farmer, together with his reasonable profit. If all modusesand 
+all impropriations were taken away, the complete church tythe of 
+Great Britain and Ireland could not well be estimated at less than six 
+or seven millions If there was no tythe either in Great Britain or 
+Ireland, thelandlordscould afford to pay six or seven millionsaddi- 
+tional land tax, without being more burdened than a very great part 
+
+
+
+773 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+of them are at present. America pays no tythe, and could, therefore, 
+very well afford to pay a land tax. The lands in America and the 
+West Indies, indeed, are, in general, not tenanted nor leased out to 
+farmers. They could not, therefore, be assessed according to any 
+rent roll. But neither were the lands of Great Britain, in the 4th of 
+W illiam and M ary, assessed according to any rent roll, but accord- 
+ing to a very loose and inaccurate estimation. The lands in America 
+might be assessed either in the same manner, or according to an 
+equitablevaluation, in consequence of an accurate survey, likethat 
+which was lately made in the M ilanese, and in the dominions of 
+Austria, Prussia, and Sardinia. 
+
+Stamp duties, it is evident, might be levied without any varia- 
+tion, in all countrieswheretheformsof law process, and thedeeds 
+by which property, both real and personal, is transferred, are the 
+same, or nearly the same. 
+
+Theextension of the custom-house laws of Great Britain to Ire 
+land and the plantations, provided it was accompanied, as in jus- 
+tice it ought to be, with an extension of the freedom of trade, 
+would be in the highest degree advantageous to both. All the in- 
+vidious restraints which at present oppress the trade of Ireland, 
+thedistinction between theenumerated and non-enumerated com- 
+modities of America, would be entirely at an end. T he countries 
+north of Cape Finisterre would be as open to every part of the 
+
+
+
+produce of America, as those south of that cape are to some parts 
+of that produce at present. The trade between all the different 
+parts of the British empire would, in consequence of this unifor- 
+mity in the custom-house laws, be as free as the coasting trade of 
+Great Britain is at present. The British empire would thus afford, 
+within itself, an immense internal market for every part of the 
+produce of all its different provinces. So great an extension of 
+market would soon compensate, both to Ireland and the planta- 
+tions, all that they could suffer from the increase of the duties of 
+customs. 
+
+The excise is the only part of the British system of taxation, 
+which would require to be varied in any respect, according as it 
+was applied to the different provinces of the empire. It might be 
+applied to Ireland without any variation; the produce and con- 
+sumption of that kingdom being exactly of tho same nature with 
+those of Great Britain. In itsapplication to America and the West 
+Indies, of which the produce and consumption are so very d iff er- 
+ent from those of Great Britain, some modification might be nec- 
+essary, in the same manner as in itsapplication to the cyder and 
+beer counties of England. 
+
+A fermented liquor, for example, which iscalled beer, but which, 
+asit is made of molasses, bears very little resemblance to our beer, 
+makes a considerable part of the common drink of the people in 
+
+
+
+774 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+America. This liquor, as it can be kept only for a few days, cannot, 
+likeour beer, beprepared and stored upforsalein great breweries; 
+but every private family must brew it for their own use, in the 
+same manner as they cook their victuals But to subject every pri- 
+vate family to theodiousvisitsand examination of the tax-gather- 
+ers, in the same manner as we subject the keepers of ale-houses 
+and the brewers for public sale, would be altogether inconsistent 
+with liberty. If, forthesakeof equality, it was thought necessary to 
+lay atax upon thisliquor, it might be taxed by taxing the material 
+of which it is made, either at the place of manufacture, or, if the 
+circumstances of the trade rendered such an excise improper, by 
+laying a duty upon its importation intothecolonyin which itwas 
+tobeconsumed. Besides theduty of one penny a-gallon imposed 
+by the British parliament upon the importation of molasses into 
+America, thereisa provincial tax of thiskind upon their importa- 
+tion into M assachu setts Bay, in shipsbdongingto any other colony, 
+of eight- pence the hogshead; and another upon their importation 
+from the northern coloniesinto South Carolina, of five-pence the 
+gallon. Or, if neither of these methods wasfound convenient, each 
+family might compound for its consumption of thisliquor, either 
+according to the number of persons of which it consisted, in the 
+same manner as private families compound for the malt tax in 
+England; or according to the different ages and sexesof those per- 
+
+
+
+sons, in the same manner as several different taxes are levied in 
+H olland; or, nearly as Sir M atthew D ecker proposes, that all taxes 
+upon consumable commodities should belevied in England. This 
+mode of taxation, it has already been observed, when applied to 
+objects of a speedy consumption, is not a very convenient one. It 
+might be adopted, however, in cases where no better could bedone. 
+Sugar, rum, and tobacco, are commodities which are nowhere 
+necessaries of life, which are become objects of almost universal 
+consumption, and which are, therefore, extremely proper subjects 
+of taxation. If a union with the colonies were to take place, those 
+com modi ties might be taxed, either before they go out of the hands 
+of the manufacturer or grower; or, if this modeof taxation did not 
+suit the circumstances of those persons, they might be deposited 
+in public warehouses, both at the pi ace of manufacture, and at all 
+the different ports of the empire, to which they might afterwards 
+be transported, to remain there, under the joint custody of the 
+owner and the revenue officer, till such time as they should be 
+ddivered out, ether to the consumer, to the merchant-retailer for 
+home consumption, or to the merchant- exporter; the tax not to 
+be advanced till such ddivery When ddivered out for exporta- 
+tion, to go duty-free, upon proper security bang given, that they 
+should really be exported out of the empire. T hese are, perhaps, 
+the principal commodities, with regard to which the union with 
+
+
+
+775 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+thecoloniesmightrequiresomeconsiderablechangeinthepresent 
+system of British taxation. 
+
+W hat might be theamount of the revenue which this system of 
+taxation, extended to all the different provinces of the empire, 
+might produce, it must, no doubt, be altogether impossible to 
+ascertain with tolerable exactness. By means of this system, there 
+is annually levied in Great Britain, upon less than eight millions 
+of people, more than ten millions of revenue. Ireland contains 
+more than two millionsof people, and, according to the accounts 
+laid before thecongress, thetwelve associated provinces of America 
+contain more than three. Those accounts, however, may have been 
+exaggerated, in order, perhaps, either to encourage their own 
+people, or to intimidate those of this country; and we shall sup- 
+pose, therefore, that our North American and West Indian colo- 
+nies, taken together, contain no more than three millions; or that 
+the whole British empire, in Europe and America, contains no 
+more than thirteen millionsof inhabitants. If, upon lessthan eight 
+millionsof inhabitants, thissystem of taxation raises a revenue of 
+more than ten millions sterling; it ought, upon thirteen millions 
+of inhabitants, to raise a revenue of more than sixteen millions 
+two hundred and fifty thousand pounds sterling. From this rev- 
+enue, supposing that this system could produce it, must be de- 
+ducted the revenue usually raised in Ireland and the plantations, 
+
+
+
+for defraying the expense of the respective civil governments. The 
+expense of the civil and military establishment of Ireland, together 
+with the interest of the public debt, amounts, at a medium of the 
+two years which ended March 1775, to something lessthan seven 
+hundred and fifty thousand pounds a year. By a very exact ac- 
+count of the revenue of the principal colonies of America and the 
+West Indies, it amounted, before thecommencement of the present 
+disturbances, to a hundred and forty-onethousand eight hundred 
+pounds. In this account, however, the revenue of M aryland, of 
+North Carolina, and of all our late acquisitions, both upon the 
+continent, and in the islands, is omitted; which may, perhaps, 
+make a difference of thirty or forty thousand pounds. Forthesake 
+of even numbers, therefore, let ussuppose that the revenue neces- 
+sary for supporting the civil government of I reland and the plan- 
+tations may amount to a million. There would remain, conse- 
+quently, a revenue of fifteen millions two hundred and fifty thou- 
+sand pounds, to be applied towards defraying the general expense 
+of the empire, and towards paying the public debt. But if, from 
+the present revenueof G reat Britain, a million could, in peaceable 
+times, be spared towards the payment of that debt, six millions 
+two hundred and fifty thousand poundscould very well be spared 
+from this improved revenue. This great sinking fund, too, might 
+be augmented every year by the interest of the debt which had 
+
+
+
+776 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+been discharged the year before; and might, in this manner, in- 
+crease so very rapidly, as to be sufficient in afew years to discharge 
+the whole debt, and thus to restore completely the at-present de- 
+bilitated and languishing vigour of the empire. In the meantime, 
+the people might be relieved from some of the most burdensome 
+taxes; from those which are imposed either upon the necessaries 
+of life, or upon the materials of manufacture. T he labouring poor 
+would thus be enabled to live better, to work cheaper, and to send 
+th eirgoodscheaper to market. Thecheapnessof their goods would 
+increase thedemand for them, and consequently for the labour of 
+those who produced them.Thisincreasein thedemand for labour 
+would both increase the numbers, and improvethe circumstances 
+of the labouring poor. Their consumption would increase, and, 
+together with it, the revenue arising from all those articles of their 
+consumption upon which the taxes might be allowed to remain. 
+Therevenuearisingfrom thissystem of taxation, however, might 
+not immediately increase in proportion to the number of people 
+who were subjected to it. Great indulgence would for sometime 
+bedueto those provinces of theempire which were thussubjected 
+to burdens to which they had not before been accustomed; and 
+even when the same taxes came to belevied everywhere as exactly 
+as possible, they would noteverywhereproducearevenuepropor- 
+tioned to the numbers of the people. In a poor country, the con- 
+
+
+
+sumption of the principal commodities subject to the duties of 
+customsand excise, isvery small; and in a thinly inhabited coun- 
+try, the opportunities of smuggling are very great. T he consump- 
+tion of malt liquors among the inferior ranks of people in Scot- 
+land isvery small; and the excise upon malt, beer, and ale, pro- 
+duces I ess there than in England, in proportion to the numbers of 
+the people and the rate of the duties, which upon malt isdifferent, 
+on account of a supposed difference of quality. In these particular 
+branchesof theexcise, thereisnot, I apprehend, much moresmug- 
+gling in the one country than in the other. The duties upon the 
+distillery, and thegreater part of theduties of customs, in propor- 
+tion to thenumbersof peoplein therespectivecountries, produce 
+lessin Scotland than in England, not only on account of thesmaller 
+consumption of the taxed commodities, but of the much greater 
+facility of smuggling. In Ireland, the inferior ranks of people are 
+still poorer than in Scotland, and many parts of the country are 
+almost as thinly inhabited. In I reland, therefore, theconsumption 
+of the taxed commodities might, in proportion to the number of 
+thepeople, be still less than in Scotland, and thefacility of smug- 
+gling nearly the same. I n America and the West I ndies, the white 
+people, even of the lowest rank, are in much better circumstances 
+than those of thesamerank in England; and their consumption of 
+all the luxuries in which they usually indulge themselves, is prob- 
+
+
+
+777 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+ably much greater. The blacks, indeed, who make the greater part 
+of the inhabitants, both of the southern colonies upon the conti- 
+nent and of theWest I ndia islands, as they arein a state of slavery, 
+are, no doubt, in a worse condition than thepoorest peopleeither 
+in Scotland or Ireland. Wemust not, however, upon that account, 
+imagine that they are worse fed, or that their consumption of ar- 
+ticles which might be subjected to moderate duties, is less than 
+that even of the lower ranks of people in England. I n order that 
+they may work well, it is the interest of their master that they 
+should befed well, and kept in good heart, in thesame manner as 
+it is his interest that his working cattle should be so. T he blacks, 
+accordingly, have almost everywhere their allowance of rum, and 
+of molasses or spruce-beer, in the same manner as the white ser- 
+vants; and this allowance would not probably be withdrawn, 
+though those articles should be subjected to moderateduties. The 
+consumption of the taxed commodities, therefore, in proportion 
+to the number of inhabitants, would probably be as great in 
+America and the West I ndies as in any part of the British empire. 
+The opportunities of smuggling, indeed, would be much greater; 
+America, in proportion to the extent of the country, being much 
+more thinly inhabited than either Scotland or Ireland. Iftherev- 
+enue, however, which is at present raised by the different duties 
+upon malt and malt liquors, were to be levied by a single duty 
+
+
+
+upon malt, the opportunity of smuggling in the most important 
+branch of the excise would be almost entirely taken away; and if 
+the duties of customs, instead of being imposed upon almost all 
+the different articles of importation, were confined to a few of the 
+most general use and consumption, and if the levying of those 
+duti eswere subjected to the excise laws, the opportunity of smug- 
+gling, though not so entirely taken away, would be very much 
+diminished. In consequence of those two apparently very simple 
+and easy alterations, theduties of customsand excisemight prob- 
+ably produce a revenue as great, in proportion to the consump- 
+tion of the most thinly inhabited province, as they do at present, 
+in proportion to that of the most populous. 
+
+The Americans, it has been said, indeed, have no gold or silver 
+money, the interior commerce of the country being carried on by 
+a paper currency; and thegold and silver, which occasionally come 
+among them, being all sent to Great Britain, in return for the 
+commodities which they receive from us. But without gold and 
+silver, it is added, there is no possibility of paying taxes. We al- 
+ready get all the gold and silver which they have. H ow is it pos- 
+sibleto draw from them what they have not? 
+
+T he present scarcity of gold and si Iver money in America, is not 
+the effect of the poverty of that country, or of the inability of the 
+people there to purchase those metals. In a country where the 
+
+
+
+778 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+wages of labour are so much higher, and the price of provisions so 
+much lower than in England, the greater part of the people must 
+surely have wherewithal to purchase a greater quantity, if it were 
+either necessary or convenient for them to do so. The scarcity of 
+those metals, therefore, must be the effect of choice, and not of 
+necessity. 
+
+It is for transacting either domestic or foreign business, that 
+gold or silver money is either necessary or convenient. 
+
+The domestic business of every country, it has been shewn in 
+the second book of this Inquiry, may, at least in peaceable times, 
+be transacted by means of a paper currency, with nearly the same 
+degree of conveniency as by gold and silver money. It is conve- 
+nient for the Americans, who could always employ with profit, in 
+the improvement of their lands, a greater stock than they can eas- 
+ily get, to save as much as possible the expense of so costly an 
+instrument of commerce as gold and silver; and rather to employ 
+that part of their surplus produce which would be necessary for 
+purchasing those metals, in purchasing the instruments of trade, 
+the materials of clothing, several partsof household furniture, and 
+the iron work necessary for building and extending their settle- 
+ments and plantations; in purchasing not dead stock, but active 
+and productive stock. The colony governments find it for their 
+interest to supply thepeoplewith such aquantity of paper money 
+
+
+
+as isfully sufficient, and generally more than sufficient, for trans- 
+acting their domestic business. Some of those governments, that 
+of Pennsylvania, particularly, derive a revenue from lending this 
+paper money to their subjects, at an interest of so much per cent. 
+Others, like that of M assachu setts Bay, advance, upon extraordi- 
+nary emergencies, a paper money of this kind for defraying the 
+public expense; and afterwards, when it suits the conveniency of 
+the colony, redeem it at the depreciated value to which it gradu- 
+ally falls. In 1747, {See H utchinson's H istory of M assachusetts 
+Bay vol. ii. page436 etseq.}that colony paid in this manner the 
+greater part of its public debts with the tenth part of the money 
+for which itsbillshad been granted. Itsuitstheconveniencyof the 
+planters, to save the expense of employing gold and silver money 
+in their domestic transactions; and itsuitstheconveniencyof the 
+colony governments, to supply them with a medium, which, 
+though attended with some very considerable disadvantages, en- 
+ables them to save that expense. T he redundancy of paper money 
+necessarily banishes gold and silver from the domestic transac- 
+tionsofthecolonies,forthesamereason that it has banished those 
+metals from the greater part of the domestic transactions in Scot- 
+land; and in both countries, it is not the poverty, but the 
+enterprizing and projecting spirit of the people, their desire of 
+employing all the stock which they can get, as active and produc- 
+
+
+
+779 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+tivestock, which has occasioned this redundancy of paper money. 
+
+I n the exterior commerce which the different colonies carry on 
+with Great Britain, gold and silver are more or less employed, 
+exactly in proportion as they are more or less necessary. W here 
+those metals are not necessary, they seldom appear. W here they 
+are necessary, they are generally found. 
+
+In the commerce between Great Britain and the tobacco colo- 
+nies, the British goods are generally advanced to the colonists at a 
+pretty long credit, and are afterwards paid for in tobacco, rated at 
+a certain price. It is more convenient for the colonists to pay in 
+tobacco than in gold and silver. It would be more convenient for 
+any merchant to pay for the goods which his correspondents had 
+sold to him, in some other sort of goods which he might happen 
+to deal in, than in money. Such a merchant would have no occa- 
+sion to keep any part of his stock by him unemployed, and in 
+ready money, for answering occasional demands. H e could have, 
+at all times, a larger quantity of goods in his shop or warehouse, 
+and hecould deal to a greater extent. But it seldom happenstobe 
+convenient for all the correspondents of a merchant to receive 
+payment for the goods which they sell to him, in goods of some 
+other kind which he happens to deal in. The British merchants 
+who tradeto Virginia and M aryland, happen to bea particular set 
+of correspondents, to whom it is more convenient to receive pay- 
+
+
+
+ment for the goods which they sell to those colonies in tobacco, 
+than in gold and silver. They expect to makea profit by thesaleof 
+the tobacco; they could make none by that of the gold and silver. 
+Gold and silver, therefore, very seldom appear in the commerce 
+between Great Britain and the tobacco colonies. Maryland and 
+Virginia haveaslittleoccasion for thosemetalsin their foreign, as 
+in their domestic commerce. They are said, accordingly, to have 
+less gold and silver money than any other colonies in America. 
+They are reckoned, however, as thriving, and consequently as rich, 
+as any of their neighbours. 
+
+In the northern colonies, Pennsylvania, New York, New Jersey, 
+thefour governments of N ew England, etc. thevalueof their own 
+produce which they export to G reat Britain is not equal to that of 
+the manufactures which they import for their own use, and for 
+that of some of the other colonies, to which they are the carriers. 
+A balance, therefore, must be paid to the mother-country in gold 
+and silver and this balance they generally find. 
+
+In thesugar colonies, thevalueof theproduce annually exported 
+to Great Britain is much greater than that of all the goods im- 
+ported from thence. If the sugar and rum annually sent to the 
+mother-country were paid for in those colonies, Great Britain 
+would be obliged to send out, every year, a very large balance in 
+money; and the trade to the West Indies would, by a certain spe- 
+
+
+
+780 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+cies of politicians, be considered as extremely disadvantageous. 
+But it so happens, that many of the principal proprietors of the 
+sugar plantations reside in Great Britain. Their rents are remitted 
+to them in sugar and rum, the produce of their estates. The sugar 
+and rum which theWest India merchants purchase in thosecolo- 
+niesupon their own account, are not equal in value to the goods 
+which they annually sell there. A balance, therefore, must neces- 
+sarily be paid to them in gold and silver, and this balance, too, is 
+generally found. 
+
+The difficulty and irregularity of payment from the different 
+colonies to Great Britain, havenotbeenatall in proportion to the 
+greatness or smallness of the balances which were respectively due 
+from them. Payments have, in general, been more regular from 
+the northern than from the tobacco colonies, though the former 
+have generally paid a pretty large balance in money, whilethe lat- 
+ter haveeither paid no balance, or a much smaller one. The diffi- 
+culty of getting payment from our different sugar colonies has 
+been greater or less in proportion, not so much to the extent of 
+the balances respectively due from them, as to the quantity of 
+uncultivated land which they contained; that is, to the greater or 
+smaller temptation which the planters have been under of over- 
+trading, or of undertaking the settlement and plantation of greater 
+quantities of waste land than suited the extent of their capitals. 
+
+
+
+The returns from the great island of Jamaica, where there is still 
+much uncultivated land, have, upon this account, been, in gen- 
+eral, more irregular and uncertain than those from the smaller 
+islands of Barbadoes, Antigua, and St. Christopher's, which have, 
+for these many years, been completely cultivated, and have, upon 
+that account, afforded less field for thespeculationsoftheplanter. 
+The new acquisitions of Grenada, Tobago, St. Vincent's, and 
+Dominica, have opened a new field for speculations of this kind; 
+and the returns front those islands have of late been as irregular 
+and uncertain as those from the great island of Jamaica. 
+
+It isnot, therefore, thepoverty of thecolonies which occasions, 
+in the greater part of them, the present scarcity of gold and silver 
+money. T heir great demand for active and productive stock makes 
+it convenient for them to have as little dead stock as possible, and 
+disposes them, upon that account, to content themselves with a 
+cheaper, though lesscommodiousinstrumentof commerce, than 
+gold and silver. They are thereby enabled to convert the value of 
+that gold and silver into theinstrumentsof trade, intothemateri- 
+als of clothing, into household furniture, and into the iron work 
+necessary for building and extending their settlements and plan- 
+tations. In those branchesof business which cannot be transacted 
+without gold and silver money, it appears, that they can always 
+find the necessary quantity of those metals; and if they frequently 
+
+
+
+781 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+do not find it, their failure is generally the effect, not of their 
+necessary poverty, but of their unnecessary and excessive enter- 
+prise. It is not because they are poor that their payments are ir- 
+regular and uncertain, but because they are too eager to become 
+excessively rich. T hough all that part of the produce of the colony 
+taxes, which was over and above what was necessary for defraying 
+theexpenseof their own civil and military establishments, were to 
+be remitted to Great Britain in gold and silver, the colonies have 
+abundantly wherewithal to purchase the requisitequantity of those 
+metals. They would in this case be obliged, indeed, toexchangea 
+part of their surplus produce, with which they now purchase ac- 
+tive and productive stock, for dead stock. In transacting their do- 
+mestic business, they would beobliged to employ a costly, instead 
+of a cheap instrument of commerce; and the expense of purchas- 
+ing this costly instrument might damp somewhat the vivacity and 
+ardour of their excessive enterpriseintheimprovement of land. It 
+might not, however, be necessary to remit any part of the Ameri- 
+can revenuein gold and silver. It might be remitted in billsdrawn 
+upon, and accepted by, particular merchants or companiesin Great 
+Britain, to whom a part of the surplus produce of America had 
+been consigned, who would pay into the treasury the American 
+revenuein money, after having them selves received the value of it 
+in goods; and the whole business might frequently be transacted 
+
+
+
+without exporting a single ounce of gold or silver from America. 
+
+I tisnot contrary to justice, that both Ireland and America should 
+contribute towards the discharge of the public debt of Great Brit- 
+ain. That debt has been contracted in support of the government 
+established by the Revolution; a government to which the 
+protestants of Ireland owe, not only the whole authority which 
+they at present enjoy in theirown country, but every security which 
+they possess for their liberty, their property, and their religion; a 
+government to which several of thecoloniesof America owe their 
+present charters, and consequently their present constitution; and 
+to which all thecoloniesof America owe the liberty, security, and 
+property, which they have ever since enjoyed. That public debt 
+has been contracted in thedefence, not of Great Britain alone, but 
+of all the different provinces of the empire. The immense debt 
+contracted in the late war in particular, and a great part of that 
+contracted in the war before, were both properly contracted in 
+defence of America. 
+
+By a union with Great Britain, Ireland would gain, besides the 
+freedom of trade, other advantages much more important, and 
+which would much more than compensate any increase of taxes 
+that might accompany that union. By the union with England, 
+the middling and inferior ranks of people in Scotland gained a 
+completedeliverancefrom the power of an aristocracy, which had 
+
+
+
+782 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+always before oppressed them. By a union with Great Britain, the 
+greater part of people of all ranksin Ireland would gain an equally 
+complete deliverance from a much more oppressive aristocracy; 
+an aristocracy not founded, like that of Scotland, in the natural 
+and respectabledistinctionsof birth and fortune, but in the most 
+odious of all distinctions, those of religious and political preju- 
+dices; distinctions which, more than any other, animate both the 
+insolenceof the oppressors, and the hatred and indignation of the 
+oppressed, and which commonly render the inhabitants of the 
+same country more hostileto one another than those of different 
+countries ever are. Without a union with Great Britain, thein- 
+habitantsof I reland arenot likely, for many ages, to consider them- 
+selves as one people. 
+
+N o oppressive aristocracy has ever prevailed in thecolonies. Even 
+they, however, would, in point of happiness and tranquillity, gain 
+considerably by a union with Great Britain. It would, at least, 
+deliver them from those rancourous and virulent factions which 
+are inseparable from small democracies, and which have so fre- 
+quently divided the affections of their people, and disturbed the 
+tranquillity of their governments, in their form so nearly demo- 
+cratical. In the case of a total separation from Great Britain, which, 
+unless prevented byaunion of thiskind, seems very likely to take 
+place, those factions would be ten times more virulent than ever. 
+
+
+
+Before the commencement of the present disturbances, the coer- 
+cive power of the mother-country had always been ableto restrain 
+those factions from breaking out into any thing worse than gross 
+brutality and insult. If that coercive power were entirely taken 
+away, they would probably soon break out into open violence and 
+bloodshed. In all great countries which are united under one uni- 
+form government, the spirit of party commonly prevails less in 
+the remote provinces than in the centre of the empire. The dis- 
+tance of those provinces from the capital, from the principal seat 
+of the great scramble of faction and ambition, makes them enter 
+less into the views of any of the contending parties, and renders 
+them more indifferent and impartial spectators of the conduct of 
+all. Thespiritof party prevails less in Scotlandthan in England. In 
+the case of a union, it would probably prevail less in Ireland than 
+in Scotland; and thecolonieswould probably soon enjoyadegree 
+of concord and unanimity, at present unknown in any part of the 
+British empire. Both Ireland and thecolonies, indeed, would be 
+subjected to heavier taxes than any which they at present pay. In 
+consequence, however, of a diligent and faithful application of the 
+public revenue towards the discharge of the national debt, the 
+greater part of those taxes might not be of long continuance, and 
+the public revenueof Great Britain mightsoon be reduced to what 
+was necessary for maintaining a moderate peace- establishment. 
+
+
+
+783 
+
+
+
+The Wealth of Nations 
+
+
+
+The territorial acquisitions of the East India Company, theun- 
+doubted right of the Crown, that is, of the state and people of 
+G reat Britain, might be rendered another sourceof revenue, more 
+abundant, perhaps, than all those already mentioned. T hosecoun- 
+tries are represented as more fertile, more extensive, and, in pro- 
+portion to their extent, much richer and more populousthan Great 
+Britain. In order to draw a great revenue from them, it would not 
+probably be necessary to introduce any new system of taxation 
+into countries which are already sufficiently, and more than suffi- 
+ciently, taxed. It might, perhaps, be more proper to lighten than 
+to aggravate the burden of those unfortunate countries, and to 
+endeavour to draw a revenue from them, not by imposing new 
+taxes, but by preventing the embezzlement and misapplication of 
+the greater part of those which they already pay. 
+
+If it should be found impracticable for Great Britain to draw 
+any considerable augmentation of revenue from any of the re- 
+sources above mentioned, the only resource which can remain to 
+her, isadiminution of her expense. In the modeof collecting and 
+in that of expending the public revenue, though in both there 
+may be still room for improvement, Great Britain seems to beat 
+least as economical as any of her neighbours. T he military estab- 
+lishmentwhich shemaintainsfor her own defencein timeof peace, 
+is more moderate than that of any European state, which can pre- 
+
+
+
+tend to rival her either in wealth or in power. N one of these ar- 
+ticles, therefore, seem to admit of any considerable reduction of 
+expense. T he expense of the peace-establishment of the colonies 
+was, before the commencement of the present disturbances, very 
+considerable, and isan expense which may, and, if no revenuecan 
+bedrawn from them, ought certainly to be saved altogether. This 
+constant expense in timeof peace, though very great, is insignifi- 
+cant in comparison with what thedefence of thecolonies has cost 
+us in timeof war. The last war, which was undertaken altogether 
+on account of thecolonies, cost Great Britain, it has already been 
+observed, upwards of ninety millions. The Spanish war of 1739 
+was principally undertaken on their account; in which, and in the 
+French war that was the consequence of it, Great Britain, spent 
+upwards of forty millions; a great part of which ought justly to be 
+charged to thecolonies. I n those two wars, thecoloniescost Great 
+Britain much more than doublethesum which the national debt 
+amounted to before the commencement of thefirst of them. Had 
+it not been for those wars, that debt might, and probably would 
+by this time, have been completely paid; and had it not been for 
+the colonies, the former of those wars might not, and the latter 
+certainly would not, have been undertaken. It was because the 
+coloniesweresupposedtobeprovincesoftheBritish Empire, that 
+this expense was laid out upon them. But countries which con- 
+
+
+
+784 
+
+
+
+Adam Smith 
+
+
+
+tribute neither revenue nor military force towards the support of 
+the empire, cannot be considered as provinces. They may per- 
+haps, be considered as appendages, asa sort of splendid and shewy 
+equipage of the empire. But if the empire can no longer support 
+theexpenseof keeping up thisequipage, it ought certainly to lay it 
+down; and if it cannot raise its revenue in proportion to its ex- 
+pense, it ought at least to accommodate its expense to its revenue. 
+If the colonies, notwithstanding their refusal to submit to British 
+taxes, are still to be considered as provinces of the British empire, 
+their defence, in some future war, may cost Great Britain as great 
+an expense as it ever has done in any former war. The rulers of 
+Great Britain have, for more than a century past, amused thepeople 
+with the imagination that they possessed a great empire on the 
+west side of the Atlantic. This empire, however, has hitherto ex- 
+isted in imagination only. It has hitherto been, not an empire, but 
+the project of an empire; not a gold mine, but the project of a gold 
+mine; a project which hascost, which continues to cost, and which, 
+if pursued in the same way as it has been hitherto, is likely to cost, 
+immense expense, without being likely to bring any profit; for the 
+effects of themonopoly of thecolony trade, it has been shewn, are 
+to the great body of the people, mere loss instead of profit. It is 
+surely now time that our rulers should either realize this golden 
+dream, in which they have been indulging themselves, perhaps, as 
+
+
+
+well as the people; or that they should awake from it themselves, 
+and endeavour to awaken the people. If the project cannot be 
+completed, it ought to be given up. If any of the provinces of the 
+British empirecannot bemadeto contribute towardsthe support 
+of the whole empire, it is surely time that Great Britain should 
+free herself from theexpenseof defendingthoseprovincesin time 
+of war, and of supporting any part of their civil or military estab- 
+lishment in time of peace; and endeavour to accommodate her 
+future views and designs to the real mediocrity of her circum- 
+stances. 
+
+
+
+785 
+
+
+
+To return to the Electronic C lassies Series, go to 
+http://www.hn.psu.edu/faculty/jmanis/jimspdf.htm 
+
+To return to the Adam Smith page, go to 
+http://www.hn.psu.edu/faculty/jmanis/adamsmith.htm